“We offered you power.”

Buffy felt like snorting; so she did. Power of a demon. That might have been where the Slayer line had originated but she was going to make damn sure that wasn’t where it ended. Not that she was pessimistic about her chances of survival, or anything.

The cave she stood in was dark but all the colours were just a little too vivid, more like a comic than reality. The Shadowmen stood and watched her, faces devoid of any kind of emotion. She wanted to hate them for what they had done to the First Slayer but she couldn’t. They didn’t seem to understand what they had started when they created the Slayers. No one could understand, not unless they were the Chosen One. Or Two.

“Tell me something I don't know,” Buffy spat, tired and hot.

Really, she just wanted out of the place but she couldn’t go back empty-handed. They were nearing a serious apocalypse – not that any were particularly laughable – and she needed something, anything, that might show her a way to stop it.

The ringleader nodded and took a step towards her. Instinctively she took a step back and readied herself for an attack. His race remained impassive and after a momentary pause he stepped into her again, pressing his cold and wrinkled hand against her cheek.

Glimpses of confusing images flickered through her mind. She saw destruction and ruin entwined with a bright golden light. The scene shifted dramatically to a drab street, rain lashing down, weapons clashing in the darkness. Men screaming. A path of fire streaming down from the sky towards a figure that stood triumphantly, sword raised. A huge town square bathed in sunlight, Giles standing at a podium in front of a crowd of thousands; giving an impassioned speech. Rows of people strapped to beds, screeching. Vials of blood. A large symbol displayed on dozens of walls – a half-eclipsed sun.

Buffy stumbled backwards, gasping. Her mind reeling from the things she had seen. None of them made sense. None of them.

Still struggling with her breath she looked at the Shadowman. “What does it mean?”

“Your debt has been paid,” he said simply. “It is time for you to leave.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

She didn’t get an answer. Instead she got shunted through time and space. And being shunted is never nice. Buffy’s legs gave way and she toppled to the ground on her ass.

Letting out an annoyed grunt, she let her brain recover from the portal-lag, before standing up. She seemed to be in a dark, but fairly clean, alleyway. The bastards hadn’t even returned her to her house. The PTB’s sure liked to stiff her. Hmm, maybe should think about rephrasing that…Buffy thought, starting towards the entryway of the alley.

The Slayer still had no idea what the images she had seen meant but she guessed if she told Giles and the gang that they’d be able to come up with something. She just hoped it was worth it. Being away from the house was not a good idea this late in the game. The First could attack at any minute and Buffy had to be there to protect the Potentials.

Buffy exited the alleyway and came out onto a fairly non-descript street. People were walking up and down, some arm-in-arm with cotton candy, laughing and shouting. It seemed like there was a carnival in town. Buffy didn’t remember reading any announcement about it but she had been a little preoccupied lately.

She was still feeling a little hot from her stint in the desert from Hell, so she removed her jacket and tied it around her waist. The turtleneck she wore was more than enough protection against a Sunnydale night breeze.

Buffy didn’t know where exactly she was but she decided to go left and see where it took her. The town wasn’t all that big, so it wasn’t like she could get lost. Or so she thought.

The further she walked the more she realised she had no idea where she was. Nothing looked familiar, none of the street signs or shops. Buffy halted on the corner of a fairly busy street trying to get her bearings. Sweat was trickling down the back of her neck and she was getting anxious to make it home.

Just as she decided to turn back and go the way she had come, something caught her eye. Across the other side of the street a man was kneeling in front of a little girl, smiling. Revellers from the carnival were walking up the middle of the road whistling and being generally obnoxious but for some reason Buffy’s eyes were fixed on the man.

A low tingle began at the base of her spine and shot up suddenly like a firework.

Vampire.

Instantly Buffy started across the street, shoving past the crowds and receiving grunts and calls of annoyance. She ignored them and kept her gaze on the vampire and the little girl.

She had nearly reached them when the vampire’s features morphed into his true face, eyes fixed on the girl. Buffy leapt forward as he leaned towards the child. Her Slayer instincts kicked in and she grabbed the demon’s neck and twisted his head clean off. She hated to do it in front of the girl, but there hadn’t been enough time for subtlety.

As the vampire turned to dust the girl screamed suddenly and loudly, drawing even more attention than Buffy had already generated.

The Slayer held her arms out towards the girl. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“You killed him! You killed him!” The girl stumbled away from her.

That was when things got really bad. People began to crowd around, murmuring and staring at Buffy.

“Oh my god,” a woman said. “Someone call the police! Now!”

Buffy shook her head, hands up. “No, listen, see – he was a vampire.”

“H.F.H!” A guy shouted, stirring the crowd up. “She’s one of them!”

“No, you don’t understand –” Buffy started.

The crowd began to shout and heckle all at once, their faces turning fearful as they looked at her. So many people had gathered around, pressing in around her, she began to feel claustrophobic. Someone screamed. Buffy took a step back and knocked into a beefy guy. They were hysterical and she couldn’t do anything to placate them. So, instead, Buffy tried to push past them to get as far away from the place as she could.

“She’s trying to get away. Someone, grab her!” A man yelled.

Buffy shook her head. “Now, look, let’s calm down.”

She turned around and a heavy fist collided with her face. The hit came completely by surprise and floored her. A collective gasp came up from the crowd as she looked up at them, blinking. There was a moment of silence and then they all seemed to lunge at her at once.

Buffy kicked out at them in defence, shattering someone’s kneecap with the force. She was panicking and she knew it. The group got even more enraged. Someone kicked her hard in the ribs.

People were chanting,“Get her, get her!”

Dozens of pairs of hands forced her to roll over and the beefy guy from before kneeled on her back, bringing her hands up behind herself. Buffy shot her head up backwards and broke his nose. He fell off of her like a ton of bricks. She started to get up but then two or three people threw themselves on top of her bodily and she kissed ground.

“Get off!” She screamed, throwing herself around wildly, all Slayer training going out of the window in blind panic. “Get off!”

A hand grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her head up and then slammed it back down on the pavement. Pain shot through her head and her vision blurred. She could smell the rancid sweat of the crazed people lying across her, holding her down. Then there were sirens. The hand that held her hair slammed her head down on the pavement once more, as if for good measure. Spots appeared in her vision.

And then the weights seemed to be lifted from her. Dazed, Buffy looked up to see the crowd moving back slightly. She sighed in relief. That’s when a pair of handcuffs were slapped across her wrists and tightened painfully.

The Slayer was rolled onto her front and found herself staring into the faces of two cops.

“There’s been a mistake…” Buffy started, head throbbing.

The cop brandished a long metal stick. “You’re under arrest.”

He pressed the stick into her side. Buffy felt a sharp stab and then she passed out.

Buffy sat on a mattress in a small cell, wondering how the hell this had happened to her. The cell was painted industrial white and there was nothing in the room save for the mattress and a tray of some kind of food over in the corner. Buffy found it a little weird that the mattress seemed to be embedded into the floor so that when she lay down on it she was level with the ground. She decided it must be some new thing police stations were trying.

Standing up she began to pace restlessly, trying to figure out what she was going to tell them. Oh, hey, guys? It was a vampire. Yeah, creature of the night. Okay, no hard feelings. Bye. She had a feeling that would work out real well.

The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. Sometime between her passing out and waking up in the cell her boots and jacket had been taken from her. She also had to wonder when it became standard issue for cops to knock people out. Buffy pressed her hand to her side where it still stung from being stabbed with whatever the hell kind of weapon the cop had used on her.

Annoyed, she strode up to the door and banged on it loudly. It was reinforced but she was pretty sure she could break out of the place if she needed to. However, by the ink stains on her thumb the Slayer had to guess they’d taken her prints. So busting out was going to have to be a last resort.

The sound of a key turning in the lock made her take a couple of steps backwards and a second later the door swung open. A man in a rumpled grey suit stepped into the cell. His hair was dark and neat, skin tan, stylish glasses perched on his nose. The eyes behind the glasses stared at her easily. By the way he stood and the way he held her eye contact, Buffy could tell he was a man very much at ease with himself. Good for him she scowled.

“Am I allowed to leave now?” She asked, petulant.

The man looked at her a moment before chuckling. “Leave? I don’t think you realise the gravity of your crime, Miss. You won’t be leaving.”

“What crime is that?” Buffy folded her arms and tried to look unfazed.

He gave her a ‘are you kidding me?’ look. “That would be the crime of first degree murder, Miss. It’s illegal in America, you know.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I didn’t murder anyone.”

“We have over fifteen witnesses who will say differently,” he took another step into the room, hands against his hips. “I doubt we’ll have to rely on a confession.”

The Slayer turned her back on the man and closed her eyes. In all her years of being the Slayer she had never been so seriously caught up in the law. Her carelessness had brought her here but she had saved the girl’s life, so it had been worth it.

“You don’t have a body,” she noted, staring at the wall.

The detective cleared his throat. “We have remains.”

She turned around as she heard rustling. He held in his hand an evidence bag and within that bag was a small glass vial. Filled with dust. It took a lot of effort for Buffy’s eyes not to bug out. What the…?

“That’s…a nice collection of dust you have there,” she said brazenly. “I don’t think it’ll hold up in court.”

He snorted. “It’s all the proof we need, Miss.”

“What the hell does that mean? And stop calling me Miss.” Buffy moved towards him, annoyed.

“You might want to take a step back, Miss,” he held a hand up. “And I would gladly call you by name if you would tell me what name you answer to. We didn’t find any identification on you. Which is, by the way, a violation in itself.”

Buffy didn’t even bother to question what he was talking about. Things were getting just a little too weird. “My name is Buffy. And you would be?”

“Detective Coleman.” He replied. “What is your last name, Buffy?”

She eyed him reproachfully. “I never got my rights read to me. I may have to file a complaint.”

Coleman laughed humourlessly. “Buffy, we don’t take very kindly to murderers around here. I’ll let you in on a little secret. As far as we’re concerned – you have no rights.”

Buffy felt like punching his perfectly sculpted jaw. It was bad enough she’d had demon essence force-fed into her and then been beaten up by a vigilante mob, but now she had to deal with this asshole? Nuh uh. No fair. Being accused of murdering a vampire had to be one of the PTB’s most screwed up and totally not funny practical jokes ever.

The detective shrugged slowly. “Having said that, you do get a call and will have a lawyer appointed to you if you can’t afford one. By the looks of you, I’d guess that was the case.”

B-itch! Buffy hissed inwardly. “I’m not guilty of anything. All you have is a pile of dust and a group of insane people who, by the way, assaulted me.”

“Citizen’s arrest. They were perfectly within the law,” he smiled.

Buffy was seething. ‘Citizen’s arrest’ my ass. Detective Coleman motioned her to follow him outside the cell. She did so gladly. Confined spaces were not a favourite thing of hers. She found herself in a narrow corridor. The walls were white. Of course. She had to say this for the place; it was spotless. There were a couple of guards at the end of the corridor standing by the exit of the cells. A phone was attached to the wall a couple of feet away and Coleman and a uniformed police officer escorted her to it.

Buffy frowned as she got a good look at the device. It still looked basically like a phone, but maybe one of those fancy video ones? It had a screen and you didn’t seem to have to pick up the receiver to dial. She guessed the police funding had gone up what with all the crimes in Sunnydale.

With Coleman watching her every move Buffy typed in the number of her house. ‘Invalid number’ flashed up on the screen. Grunting, she typed the number in again this time slowly and carefully. The message came up again.

“We don’t have all day, Buffy.” Coleman sighed, leaning up against the wall.

Buffy ignored him and decided to try Willow’s mobile. The message flashed up again. She tried Xander’s. Same thing. What the hell?

“The phone is broken,” she announced, pointing at it accusatorily.

Coleman rolled his eyes. “It’s working perfectly fine. If you can’t remember the numbers, the call the directory and get the numbers that way.”

He spoke to her as if she were a little child and typed in a three digit number that made the screen turn a bright shade of red and then revealed the face of a young woman, smiling fakely.

“How may I help you?” She asked, looking right at them.

Buffy, feeling self-conscious, cleared her throat. “Uh, I want to call the Summer’s residence.”

“What town?”

“Sunnydale, California.”

The woman nodded. “One moment. I’m sorry, there is no such listing.”

Buffy shook her head. “There has to be.”

“There isn’t,” the woman replied, still beaming. “Can I call someone else for you?”

“Rupert Giles.”

At this Coleman and the officer burst out laughing. Buffy eyed them, suspicious. The operator rolled her eyes onscreen, then she disappeared and the screen read ‘disconnected’.

“Way to piss off the Directory, Summers,” Coleman said still laughing. “That is your name, right? Buffy Summers. Call it a wild guess.”

Buffy scowled and pointed at the phone. “She’s grossly negligent. I have the right to a phone call.”

Coleman rolled his eyes. “Since you’re clearly inept at using simple devices, just tell us who you want to contact and we’ll contact them for you.”

“Like I trust you.”

“You’ll have to,” his eyes hardened.

Buffy sighed. “Like I said; Rupert Giles.”

Coleman grunted. “Right. Sure. And I’d like to contact Holman Winters.”

“Who?”

“Give us another name or stop wasting our time.”

“Fine. I’ll give you a list. In case you’re too inept to use the phone. Willow Rosenberg. Xander…Alexander Harris. Robin Wood.” She enunciated carefully. “Got that? Need me to write it down?”

Coleman glared at her but spoke to the officer. “Escort Miss. Summers back to her cell.”

“This is ridiculous!” Buffy told him as the officer gave her a rather impolite shove down the hall. “I’ll sue. I’ll sue and I’ll totally win!”

She was pushed inside the cell and the door slammed shut behind her. The sounds of the bolts being drawn across made her wilt and she dropped down onto the mattress morosely.

The Slayer sat at a table in an interview room barely bigger than her cell. The fact that she had gotten used to thinking of it as ‘her cell’ in such a short time worried her. She rested her elbows on the table and cradled her face in her hands. She was tired and sweaty and worried for her friends. The fact that her lawyer was taking his or her sweet time to get to the police station was just making matters worse, and it also gave Coleman a chance to try and make her slip up “off the record”.

The detective sat across from her, eyes scanning her face for something she clearly wasn’t giving him. He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair, and leaned forward towards her. She could smell his aftershave and it managed to remind her that she probably stunk.

“So, why’d you do it? H.F.H looking for another ‘hero’?” Coleman questioned, as if genuinely interested.

Buffy just looked at him, blankly.

“And tearing the guys head off? That…well, it would take some considerable strength. How’d you manage that?” He asked.

She sat up straighter and held her hands out. “Want me to demonstrate?”

“Threatening me isn’t going to help you now, Summers.”

Buffy sighed. “Whatever. I thought you were going to call my friends.”

“We found several Alexander Harris’, none of whom reside in Sunnydale, and the only Willow Rosenberg we could come up with lived in Montana,” Coleman shrugged. “We left a message on the off chance she migrated out of the state without telling you.”

She glared at him. “That’s not my Willow. My Willow lives here. And Xander too. How dense can you guys be?”

“Not according to the database.”

“Well the database is wrong!” she half-yelled, filled with frustration.

Her lawyer chose that moment to enter the room, a little sheepishly. He was a lanky guy in a cheap looking suit – rumpled collar, tie skewed – with light brown hair that stuck straight up and kind green eyes. As he turned to her a polite smile lit up his face and he held out his hand for her to shake. Warily, Buffy shook the guy’s hand and when he sat down beside her she noticed he had a few shaving cuts on his jaw and a cleft palate operation scar.

“I am Norman Wagner, I’ve been appointed to Miss. Summers’ case. And I would like to request that my client and I have some time to discuss her situation in private, as she is rightly entitled to,” it came out sounding rehearsed and nervous.

Coleman rolled his eyes and muttered something beneath his breath before standing up and leaving the room. Buffy sighed and let her head drop to the table, closing her eyes. What a day, what a day.

Norman opened up his briefcase and fiddled with some papers. “You didn’t say anything...incriminating, did you? They really shouldn’t have had you in here without me. I’ll file a complaint.”

Buffy had the distinct feeling that filing a complaint in this police station was akin to sending junk mail. It would go straight in the bin. She glanced over at her state-appointed lawyer and tried to keep an open mind. Maybe he was the best damn lawyer America had ever seen and he just took these kinds of cases because he was that kind of guy! Never mind that he barely looked old enough to have graduated law school.

“Does threatening to rip a detective’s head off count as incriminating?” she asked sarcastically.

“Oh…my. Well, uh, have they been treating you as they should?”

She laughed at that and Norman gave her a questioning look. At his prompting she proceeded to tell him exactly how they had been treating her. When she was done he looked very concerned and earnestly announced he would be filing two complaints that very day.

Pulling a notepad and a pen out of his briefcase, her lawyer asked her to explain her part in the crime. This was where things got trickier. She couldn’t exactly say that yes, she had killed that guy, but he was a vampire and she was a vampire slayer. If she said that she’d probably find herself locked up in an asylum again. It would be hard to completely deny the killing though, what with all the witnesses. So, Buffy settled for saying nothing at all. Norman didn’t seem to understand what she hoped to gain by not talking to her lawyer as it was his job to get her free.

When she still said nothing he informed her that her case had already generated substantial media coverage, and though her identity hadn’t been disclosed yet it would likely be leaked very soon.

“And that’s another thing – you’re not in the system. Everyone’s in the system but you’re…not,” Norman’s brow furrowed. “Have you lied about your name? Why weren’t you carrying your I.D Card?”

Buffy looked sideways at him. “I left all my I.D at home.”

“And your home would be where?”

“Revello Drive.”

He wrote it down. “Never heard of it. Listen, Buffy, you need to start co-operating with me and with the police. This is a serious charge. One of the most serious you can get. They’re even sending someone down from HU to meet with you and to make sure you get life in prison. And those guys are persuasive.”

“I didn’t kill a man,” was all she said.

He looked grave. “There’s a lot of witnesses who will say otherwise.”

“That’s because they don’t understand!” She blurted out.

“Understand what?”

“…nothing. Nothing. Anything I say at this point is going to make me sound like a crazy person. I understand if you want to quit,” Buffy murmured and rubbed her forehead. She could feel a headache coming on.

He shook his head and gave what he probably hoped was a reassuring smile. “You underestimate me, Miss. Summers. A lot of people do. I need this case to prove myself and…and I will.”

She reached over and patted him on the shoulder, noticing his flinch.

Norman stood, chair scraping across the floor. “I’m going to give you a few minutes to think about some things and I’ll try and contact your friends for you, okay?”

“God bless you, Norman Wagner.” Buffy deadpanned.

He looked more than a little perplexed by her but simply nodded and left the room. The Slayer moved her neck around in circles to remove the cricks. Since it didn’t look like she was going to get out of the station anytime today she put her time to good use. Reaching over for Norman’s pen and pad, she wrote down descriptions of some of the things she could remember being shown by the Shadowmen, this way she could tell them to Giles before she completely forget them. When she was done she folded the paper and stuffed it into her bra.

Buffy glanced down at the notepad, paused, then drew a picture of a stick man with stink lines coming off of him. She labelled the drawing “Coleman”, leaving it in the middle of the table.

Then she got back to worrying.

She hadn’t eaten properly in ages so when the police officer brought her “dinner” she had wolfed down the mashed potatoes and dry meat quicker than she had thought possible. She left the peas. Wasn’t quite that starving yet. Buffy had had a personal vendetta against peas ever since she got one stuck up her nostril for six hours. When she was a child. Of course.

Norman was still somewhere in the police station filing his complaints and other paperwork. He was waiting for the H.U representative to show. Buffy didn’t even know what H.U was, but if they were going to try their hardest to get her thrown in prison then she disliked them.

Regardless, she could tell her lawyer was frustrated with her for not confiding in him. He kept telling her she was doing herself no favours. Buffy knew this but she also knew that if she told him that the guy was a vampire, that would do her no favours either. Outright lying didn’t seem to be a viable option either due to the amount of witnesses.

She kind of wished Giles was here to bail her out. She wasn’t proud of the fact but there it was. Buffy could handle the fighting side of things but the details, the planning, the intellectual things? Weren’t exactly her strong point. No matter how many times Giles told her she was a lot brighter than she gave herself credit for.

As she sat waiting for god-knows-what to happen the Slayer pulled out the piece of paper she had stashed covertly earlier. She glanced over her messily written list of things she remembered the Shadowmen showing her.

Bright light.
Giles – big crowd.
People strapped to beds. Looking spooked.
Partially eclipsed sun painted on wall.

She still couldn’t make any sense of it. If it was meant to show her The First’s plan Buffy couldn’t even guess what was going to happen. Quickly, she stuffed the paper back in her bra when she heard the door to her cell opening.

An officer stepped aside to let Norman through. Buffy gazed at her hands. He sighed and surprised her by sitting on the floor opposite her.

“Any recollection of what occurred yet?” He asked her.

She sighed. “If I told you, you’d send me in for psych evaluation.”

Norman looped his arms around his knees. “Try me.”

Buffy looked up at him and saw he looked at her with genuine concern and interest. It had been a long day, filled with assholes like the Shadowmen and Coleman, so seeing a non-judgemental face was a welcome sight. She still didn’t think she could simply come out and say what had happened but maybe she could discuss other aspects of the investigation with him.

“…I want to know when it was decided a pile of dust equals a body,” she said, holding her hands out. “I mean, that’s crazy.”

“About fifteen years ago.”

Her brown creased. “Wha – huh? Really?!”

Norman nodded. “Fifteen years ago it was decided that ashes were about as much proof as a dead body. Assuming they’d been tested and shown to be human remains, that is.”

“I’ve…never heard of that.”

“Really?” Norman looked surprised. “It was all over the news. Can’t imagine you were too old though, so maybe you weren’t that interested in body remains.” He smiled.

Buffy rubbed her forehead. “Look, Norman, those ashes…they’re not human ashes.”

“They’ve been tested and found out to be a positive humanoid match.”

“No, look –” Buffy clenched her fist, then relaxed it. “Okay, maybe technically it seems like human remains but…it isn’t.”

Norman looked her in the eyes. “They are 100% humanoid remains, Buffy. There’s no getting around that. So, maybe you should tell me why you killed him?”

“Because it’s my job!” She yelled before she could stop herself.

Norman jumped a little and looked very taken aback.

Well played, Buffy. She let out a sound of aggravation and dropped her head into her hands, pressing her forehead against her knees. Everything was coming out wrong and now he probably thought she was some kind of psycho.

The lawyer stood, stretching his limbs. He was going to leave. She was sure about it. Not that it really mattered – she was digging herself in deeper all the time with or without a lawyer. She still couldn’t believe she was in this situation. All because she wanted to save a little girl. Save someone’s life and get thrown in the cells for it. Lovely.

Norman rubbed the back of his neck, worriedly. “What do you mean by that? Are you affiliated with H.F.H? Because if you are…”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Buffy sighed, closing her eyes. “I don’t know what any of these abbreviations you people keep using mean. H.F.H, H.U – it’s all Greek to me.”

He threw his hands up. “Come on, Buffy! I’m trying to help you here. If you’re not a member of that group then what did you mean when you said it was your job to kill that man?”

“He wasn’t a man!” She bellowed, looking up at him. “I killed him because he was going to hurt that little girl!”

“What do you mean? She was his daughter. And he, by all accounts, was a good father. Not the kind of man to hurt a little girl.”

“He was a vampire!”

Buffy regretted screaming it as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth. Could she get any stupider? This was when the shit really was going to hit the fan. There would be straight jackets and morphine injections, padded cells and doctors in white coats. She shuddered.

However, Norman simply said one word. “So?”

The Slayer blinked, confused. “So…what do you mean ‘so’?! He was a vampire! A bloodsucking fiend!”

“Oh, Buffy, come on. Haven’t we moved past such prejudice?” He shook his head and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “He had a right to life just like you and I.”

Buffy gaped at him. “He was Undead!”

Before Norman could say anything the cell door was yanked open and he was called out by the officer. He left and the door slammed closed behind him. The Slayer sat on her weird mattress, awash in a sea of confusion. Firstly, the fact that Norman seemed to be aware of vampires…okay that wasn’t too hard to believe in Sunnydale…but that he seemed to be some sort of ‘vampire sympathiser’ was too weird. It certainly wasn’t the reaction she had been expecting from him.

All Buffy could think was that she was in deep shit with very few options of pulling herself out of it. She was in shit quicksand. A very dangerous and smelly place to be.

The door opened again and Norman stepped in. “Buffy, the H.U representative is here to see you.”

He moved into the room, stepping aside to reveal the man standing behind. Buffy stared at him, stunned.

It was Spike.

Buffy launched herself at the vampire who still stood rooted in the doorway of the cell. She barrelled into him, throwing her arms around him. This lasted for about the duration of one second in which time she realised what she was doing and with whom. She pulled back, looking him over and shaking her head with disbelief.

“Spike! God, I’m glad to see you. They’ve had me in here for days. Okay, hours…but still! And for slaying! Can you believe it? What…what are you wearing? And hey! Your hair! It’s…brown!”

And it was. It was combed back in its usual style but Spike’s hair was a dark shade of brown. The clothes he was wearing were decidedly un-Spike too. Loafers, dark slacks, white shirt – sleeves rolled up, light blue tie and a suit jacket thrown over one arm. He was also carrying a briefcase.

What the crap?

Then something struck Buffy rather late. “Oh! Oh god! Is this like a mission to bust me out?”
Norman made a sound of alarm.

“Uh, I mean, no, I must be confused…” The Slayer winked covertly at Spike.

But this didn’t seem to register with Spike. In fact nothing seemed to be registering with him. He was just staring at her vacantly, lips parted, the very embodiment of a human statue. Or a vampire statue.

“…Spike?” Buffy reached out to him, concerned.

He took a step back, shaking his head. She frowned and asked him what was wrong but he still didn’t speak. Norman stepped up beside her asking all sorts of questions about if they knew each other and if that was the case, then how. They both ignored him. Eyes locked on one another.

Spike swallowed, blinking. Then he lunged at her. His hands wrapped around her neck and he shoved her up against the wall of the cell. Buffy let out a cry of surprise and grabbed at his hands as he tried his best to throttle her. A vein was bulging in his neck and his eyes were fixed on her. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so angry.

“What are you?” He yelled.

Buffy could hear a ruckus going on in her periphery but that wasn’t really the main source of her concern at present. She dug her nails into his wrists, attempting to pull him off of her. She wasn’t sure how he expected her to answer when he was almost crushing her windpipe.

The Slayer’s instincts kicked in and she lifted her foot and planted it in his gut with full force. Spike flew backwards, hitting the wall opposite - hard. Buffy sank to the floor gasping and holding her throat.

She looked at him, rubbing his head and trying to sit up, and an overwhelming feeling of betrayal washed over her. Spike had attacked her. Had tried to kill her. Her eyes stung and she stood, fully intending to flee the room since the door had been left open as Norman rushed to get help. She no longer cared about subtlety.

Spike, however, had other ideas. He rushed her again. Buffy sidestepped and his trajectory sent him crashing into another wall. She turned and grabbed the back of his shirt. Spinning him around she threw him into the cell door. It slammed closed with a horrible click of finality.

“What the hell are you doing?” She yelled, voice a little raspy.

Spike clambered to his feet, clothes looking a hell of a lot less neat. “I’m gonna ask you again; what are you?”

“The Slayer who’s about to kick your ass!”

He pointed at her accusatorily. “You can’t fool me. Since I can touch you, I’m goin’ to guess your just one of its lackeys. Well, if you think by wearing her face I won’t kill you – you’re sorely mistaken.”

Buffy stared at him, completely gob-smacked. At first she didn’t even understand what he meant but then she got it. He thought she was working for The First. In fact he had probably thought she was the First at…first. She didn’t understand why he would automatically jump to that conclusion but she had to reassure him.

“No, Spike,” Buffy held her hands up. “It’s me. It’s Buffy.”

“Bullshit!” he yelled, shaking his head. “You won’t fool me. So, let’s just have at it, shall we?”

Before she could say any more he let out a battle cry and charged at her again. Buffy rolled her eyes and dodged him, kicking him in the back as he sailed past. He tripped and crumpled to the floor.

She danced backwards away from him. “Will you stop running at me, you…you jerk! It’s me. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spike rolled onto his back and looked up at her. “Maybe because she’s been gone a long time and last time I looked - Slayers age.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you being all vampirey? You know, all ‘I’m immortal so a day feels like eternity to me’? Because, what-ever. If you start brooding about the fragile nature of humans like a certain other VWAS I’m kicking you out of my basement.”

Spike looked like he was going to shout again, then paused. “VWAS?”

“Vampire With A Soul,” she explained, helpfully.

“Oh. Right.” He nodded. Then he looked offended. “HEY! I’m tryin’ to kill you, here! You might look like her and…talk like her but you…you aren’t her.”

Buffy threw her hands up. “I am her!”

“Are not!” Spike stood, crossing his arms.

“Am too!” She riposted. “I think I know better that I am her than you know that I am not her, her being me with me being Buffy is her…she…I? What?”

He was looked at her curiously. She much preferred this look than the one where he looked like he wanted to choke her to death. That look was not a good look on him. As he regarded her carefully Buffy took the opportunity to do the same. The brown hair had thrown her completely. It still did, really. It made the blueness of his eyes seem deeper. The colour of them matched his tie, she realised. Spike in a suit – that was a sight she never thought she would see. But…she was kind of glad she had. Put an already hot guy in a suit and you pretty much have hotness personified.

Or, room temperature really. So, so, off track, Buffy. And also referring to yourself in third person. Maybe a psych evaluation would be a good thing…

“Why should I believe you?” He asked finally, a strange tremor in his voice. He sounded almost hopeful.

Buffy shrugged slowly, looking him in the eyes. “Because I believed in you. Least you can do is return the favour. And, you know, maybe not choke me again.”

Something in him seemed to crack and his eyes looked shiny. For a moment Buffy thought he was going to cry, which was always alarming. She never knew what to say when Spike got emotional. He was always so open with what he was feeling and she was the complete opposite. She crouched down in front of him, still a little cautious.

“Hey, its okay, I’m here. I’m in prison for murder and I’m here. What’s wrong with that?” She smiled, reaching out and putting her hand on his shoulder. “But what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad because I am – you trying to kill me, aside – but why?”

“Buff…Buffy,” Spike managed. “God, don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

He shook his head in amazement. “How long you’ve been gone.”

“Uh, not exactly,” Buffy pulled a face. “But I guess a few hours, huh? I didn’t mean to worry anyone. Or to make you turn to the bottle. Of hairdye.”

Spike grabbed her shoulders suddenly, gaze intense. “Buffy, you’ve been gone thirty years.”

Thirty years.

Buffy couldn’t help thinking what an odd figure that was. It wasn’t as pathetic as say a mere ten years but not anywhere near as dramatic as a hundred. She also couldn’t completely comprehend it. Thirty years passing by without her knowing it seemed very wrong to her and she didn’t believe it. It crossed her mind that maybe she was in an alternate dimension. That would make sense considering how much seemed to have changed. However, she thought it was a much simpler explanation.

“Spike, don’t dick me around,” she stood and stretched. “I’ve been through too much crap today to pretend I understand your British humour.”

He stood too and shook his head. “Not joking. Haven’t seen you since you jumped through that portal almost thirty years to this day.”

“That was about five hours ago!”

Spike swallowed. “Maybe where you were.”

And that phrase reminded her of a conversation they’d had a year ago. Where she had told him about how it had felt longer when she was in heaven than the 147 days he had professed it to be.

She looked him the eyes and saw that he wasn’t joking. He really meant it had been thirty years since they’d last been in a room together. Yet to her it had been only hours. Everything had changed for him and yet she remained the same. Pretty much reversing the usual vampire/human relationship.

A feeling of panic started in her gut and she felt nauseous. He was a completely different Spike. One who had brown hair and wore suits and worked for something called H.U. One who, now that she studied him close, wore a wedding ring on his left hand.

Buffy took several steps backward, recoiling. Moulding herself into the corner of the cell furthest away from him.

He noticed her gaze. “Right. Yeah. About that…”

Married. Married?! How could he be married? How could Spike have gotten married in the five hours they had spent apart?

“You’ve got to understand, I…we tried…Willow, she –”

He was trying to get an explanation out but Buffy held a hand up to him. Willow. Willow and Xander and Giles and Dawn! Thirty years had passed, thirty years in which everything and anything could have happened. They would be so different. They’d look different. Smell different. Feel different.

She was still trying to figure all this out when Coleman and two uniformed officers burst into the cell with Norman flapping his arms and babbling behind them. Coleman grabbed her shoulder and shoved her face-first into the wall, yanking her arms behind her back. Buffy knew what he was doing but didn’t even try to stop him; she was still too caught up in her whole life being turned upside down.

Spike held his hands up. “There’s no need for that. There’s been a misunderstanding!”

They didn’t listen to him. The two officers were trying to usher him out of the cell but he was shoving them off and making them considerably angrier. One of them even brought out the stick weapon that liked to knock people out.

Coleman screeched at him. “Put that away!”

The officer looked pissed off but did as he said.

“We’re going to have you for this, Summers,” Coleman hissed in her ear, as he cuffed her. “You’ve sealed the deal by attacking H.U’s top man.”

Top man. Buffy looked over her shoulder at Spike who was trying to calm down the officers but then breaking into swear words and insulting them when it didn’t work.

Norman was shaking his head erratically. “No, he attacked her!”

“Shut it, Wagner.” Coleman spat.

Spike held his hands up like an Evangelist preacher. “She’s a Slayer!”

The whole room went silent then and, to Buffy, seemed to halt. Nobody moved, as if posing in a freeze-frame. Coleman broke the stillness by backing away from her in what she supposed was fear. The two officers pointed their evil knocking-out sticks at her.

“Somebody get the Slayer restraints!” Coleman shouted.

One of the officers scurried out of the door as Buffy turned around to face the room. Coleman took another step back. Spike took a step forward. Norman just stood rooted still.

The lawyer spoke, confused. “Then why did she kill that man?”

“Because he was a vampire,” Spike said eyes still locked on her.

“So?”

Buffy laughed bitterly. “So? It’s kind of my job description, Norman. I slay vampires. I’m a Vampire Slayer, hello!”

Norman frowned. “Slayers haven’t been called ‘Vampire Slayers’ for over ten years.”

“She doesn’t know that,” Spike said softly.

It was pretty much then that everything seemed to sink in. How it wasn’t just the people around her who had changed but the world itself. How her calling seemed to have become obsolete and how she really didn’t know anything anymore. She’d become an outsider. Like a caveman stumbling into the modern day world, killing without thinking, completely unaware of how societies rules had changed.

Coleman turned to the vampire. “And how exactly do you know that? You’ve got about five seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

That’s what she wanted to know too. She wanted to know what the fuck was going on and she wanted to know how she could get back her world, her time.

“She’s been in a parallel universe a…a holding place, a waiting room if you want, for thirty years. She doesn’t know how the world has changed,” Spike answered Coleman but his eyes were for her. “Buffy’s still living by 2003’s rules and laws, or lack thereof.”

“Bullshit!” The detective snorted.

Norman looked intrigued. “That would make her a…time traveller!”

“Is that such a stretch of the imagination, considering how much has changed in the past few decades?” Spike asked them.

Buffy wondered how much exactly had changed in the years she had supposedly been gone. It had only been thirty years. Only thirty years she scowled, self-deprecating thirty years is a long time. Too long. But she still found it hard to believe that in thirty years vampires had seemingly become on par with humans in the right to ‘life’ stakes. No pun intended.

Coleman snorted. “I can’t believe you, of all people, are defending her with this crock of shit. Wagner mentioned you seemed to know her. Is this true? Sounds like a conflict of interests to me. We should get someone else assigned to her case.”

Buffy and Norman both jumped when Spike grabbed the man around the throat and slammed him up against the wall. It seemed thirty years had turned Spike into a serial neck-grabber. The cop’s eyes bugged out but he said nothing.

“Listen to me, you tosser!” Spike whispered coldly to him. “You’ll do nothin’ of the sort. In fact, you’ll release her into my custody. She’s the Council’s problem now, you got me?”

“She’s a murderer! She’s not above the law.” Coleman spat back.

The vampire growled. “I think it’s fair to say she has a set of special circumstances. She’ll be tried by the Council and H.U, if she’s tried at all. They own her. Not you.”

Buffy didn’t like the idea that she was owned by anyone but if it got her out of the god-awful cell she was willing to let it slide. And when she was free she would get the hell away from this place and this Spike and find Giles. He would know what to do.

The officer came running back in holding a pair of handcuffs that looked about five times thicker than normal reinforced cuffs. He moved towards her. Buffy had had enough of this shit. She pulled her wrists apart and snapped the cuffs as if they had been made of elastic bands. Then she waved her now free hands at the cop. He halted where he was.

Buffy, now adorned with some fetching handcuff bracelets, turned to face Coleman who was eyeing her with disdain. Spike let go of his neck grudgingly and the detective straightened up, rubbing his neck.

“I’m going to need official word from the Council,” he croaked. “I won’t release her until they fax the appropriate documents through. That’s final. Try to take her before and I won’t have any qualms about bringing out the wooden bullets.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Little melodramatic, but I’ll play nice. For now. Get them on the phone and while you’re at it get Miss Summers a coffee and a few of those nice donuts you fellas love so much.”

Coleman glared at him, practically radiating ‘fuck off’ as he and the other two cops sloped out of the room. They left the door open, perhaps in some sort of show of good faith. Or maybe they really did trust Spike. Which was new: the whole Spike being trusted and respected part.

“God, this is just…wow,” Norman flushed, rubbing his face. “I just…wow. I’d like to take this opportunity to ask you to keep me on as your lawyer, Buffy. I’d love a chance to represent you at the Council Trial.”

Spike shook his head. “I don’t think so, fledge. If there’s a trial she’s getting the best lawyers –”

“Thanks, Norman. I’d like that.” Buffy nodded to the boy.

“Oh, thank you. Oh. I’m going to have to call my boss to let him know what’s going on. This is…really, this is groundbreaking stuff!” Norman practically sang as he ran out of the cell.

This left the vampire and the Slayer standing face to face on opposite sides of the small cell. She’d always felt that Spike knew her better than some of her friends but now he was almost a stranger. In that moment Buffy had never felt more alone in her life.

“Buffy –” he started.

“I’m going to find Giles,” she interrupted. “I need him. He’s…he’ll fix this.”

Spike looked down at the floor and rubbed his forehead. “There’s nothing to fix, Buffy.”

“I need Giles.”

He looked up, forehead creased. “I don’t know how to say this. I’m not good at this type of thing. A lot of time has passed since…we…Buffy, we lost Giles.”

“Lost him.” Buffy blinked, her body going still. A small laugh escaped. “Well, we’ll have to find him then. I’ll find him.”

Spike shook his head, slowly, eyes sad. “He’s gone. So is Dawn.”

“Gone?”

It was all she could think to say. And the look in his eyes said it all. Gone. Dead. Dawn. Giles. Both dead. Both of them.

Buffy figured her legs must have given out because suddenly she was on the floor, slumped against a wall, and she didn’t know what was happening. Her vision skewed for a moment or two and she went deaf. She literally couldn’t hear anything. It only lasted for a second but it seemed to stretch on.

Then Spike was shouting something. It might have been her name. She wasn’t sure. She blinked, staring at him but not really seeing. Nothing was making sense and her brain couldn’t understand what was going on. The things around her, the people…they were all wrong. Inherently wrong. This wasn’t where she was supposed to be. She wasn’t supposed to be in a world where her sister and Giles were dead.

They weren’t supposed to be gone.

“Buffy,” Spike murmured softly, hand on her arm.

He was crouched in front of her now. His eyes roved over her face, concerned and distressed for her. She looked at him and didn’t know if he was really Spike. He looked like him and sounded like him but he must have changed. Everything changed. Even immortal things.

She looked away from him. “How…?”

He swallowed and sat down next to her, leaning his back against the wall. “With Giles it was old age. He clung on a long time for a human. Stubborn bastard,” Spike chuckled sadly. “Dawn was taken before her time. A stupid…useless accident.”

“What happened?” Buffy asked, staring at the wall in front of her.

“She was coming home from the cinema one night, crossing the road, and a car hit her. Mustn’t have seen her. It was late and she was rushing for the last bus. It was…it was all wrong. Just wrong,” he closed his eyes and sighed. “That was seven years ago. Giles passed away three years before that.”

Buffy didn’t know how to respond to that. She had asked simply because she thought it might help her to make sense of things. But there was no sense to be made. Death was always nonsensical and in the space of a few hours she’d lost two of the most important people in her life.

Spike looked at her sideways. “I can’t pretend to know what this all feels like to you. Coming back after so long and coming back to this. It’s been seven years for me and I still think I’m going to see her stroll into the house like she owns the place. And for you it’s been no time at all since you last saw her face. I envy you that, at least. Sometimes I find it hard to remember everything I should. I think to myself…what colour were her eyes? I can’t remember.”

“Blue.” Buffy said.

A look of relief flickered across his face. “Blue.”

The Slayer and vampire sat side by side for a long while not talking. Buffy could feel his eyes on her from time to time and she thought that perhaps he had forgotten things about her too and wanted to commit them to memory. Her mind was focused completely on Dawn and Giles. She would never see them again and that left her feeling empty. She really didn’t think she would cry yet. She thought she was still in the numbness stage of grief. So it surprised her when a tear slipped down her cheek.

Buffy turned her face away and blinked rapidly to stop herself. She wasn’t ready to cry. There were things she needed to know now more than ever.

“Willow? Xander?” Her voice almost trembled.

“Willow lives in Montana with her wife, Xander’s in England. He married a Slayer, which surprised no one.” Spike smiled. “They’re both fine, Buffy.”

She nodded, taking it in. Married. Both of them married. Just like Spike. Three of her friends married and two of her loved ones dead. God, it was too much to take in. Far too much.

Buffy dropped her head into her hands and pulled her knees up against herself. She just wanted things to go back to normal. She wanted to be back in her house crowded with Potentials, Xander complaining about girls pinching his butt and Giles giving them all a lecture about vacuuming. She wanted that back so badly.

Something occurred to her suddenly. “Xander married a Slayer? Does that…is Faith…?”

“No. She’s fine. There’s sort of a long story behind that,” he said softly. “But I think we should just concentrate on getting you out of here.”

Buffy looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t have anywhere to go anymore.”

“You can stay with me.”

She laughed bitterly then and looked at him. “No, I can’t.”

“You can and you will. Chances are the Council are going to want you under some kind of supervision. Better I act as your guardian then one of their ponces,” he looked back at her and paused. “If you want. I mean, I won’t…I’ll understand if you don’t want me around. Too confusing and the like.”

The Slayer shook her head. “Being around you doesn’t confuse me, Spike. I’m used to you being around, remember? If anything I’d think it would weird you out to have me around.”

“It’s been a long time, Buffy, that’s true. But there hasn’t been a day in those thirty years that I didn’t think about…” he blinked and looked surprised. “I...I’m going to find Coleman and see what the hold up is. Be back in a bit.”

With that he stood and fled the room pretty fast. Buffy looked at the empty doorway. She thought about leaving. Just running the hell away from this place, this whole entire fucked up world. But what she had said was true. She didn’t have anywhere to go anymore and Spike had been right: there was nothing to fix here. This was how things were now.

She rested her forehead against her knees and cried. For Dawn. For Giles. And for herself.

When Coleman walked back into her cell he did not look pleased. Buffy stood up and faced him. The detective said nothing as he gestured to the door. The Slayer looked at him a moment, full of resentment, then strolled past him with her head held high. She walked down the corridor and was let out of the cells and into the main body of the police station.

Spike and Norman stood at a counter talking to the police officer on the other side of it. When he saw her Norman gestured her over. The officer released her possessions – her jacket and boots – back to her and Buffy pulled them on, gratefully. It was too warm for the jacket, really, but she felt cold.

She was made to sign a bunch of forms and so was Spike as he was taking official custody of her. As she was waiting to be let out she looked down at her wrists. The handcuffs were still attached to both, the broken chains dangling past the sleeves of her jacket. Buffy tucked them in discreetly.

Eventually the three of them were escorted to the exit and she was freed. Stepping out of the police station Buffy gazed at her surroundings. With the newfound knowledge of all the years that had passed she looked at things more carefully. Essentially, everything looked much the same. After thirty years Buffy would have imagined so much would have changed.

“No flying cars,” she mused walking down the steps of the station.

Spike smiled. “We’re still working on that one.”

Norman frowned. “Flying cars?”

“Before your time, boy,” Spike replied, then frowned. “Or, the notion of it anyway. Technically, it would be after your time. Probably. Having said that…why am I still talking?”

Buffy glanced at him. “A question I ask myself all the time about you.”

Spike shot her the finger, grinning. She smiled back for a moment as they crossed the road. Norman still looked entirely bemused by the pair of them but he soon excused himself informing Buffy he would call her tomorrow to resume his legal counselling. Spike scoffed at that but Buffy just thanked the lawyer.

This left Buffy and Spike walking through the car park in awkward silence. Buffy didn’t have much to say anyway. She was afraid to ask for more information about how things had changed. Still reeling from all that she had already learned the Slayer wanted to remain ignorant about the rest of it for as long as possible.

When Spike came to stop beside a sleek looking silver car Buffy’s eyebrows rose. It didn’t seem his style at all, but then his style had changed. From what she could see, cars hadn’t changed all that much. The lines were a little sleeker and it looked prettier but still. Not too much of a difference.

Spike placed his hand on the driver door and seemingly unlocked the door without the use of a key. He saw her look. “Scans the hand, makes thieving a decent ride a bitch. I speak from experience.”

Buffy just nodded, walked around and got into the car. She practically sank into the seats and actually let out a sigh. It felt so comfortable. Spike got in and pushed a button on the controls.

The Slayer nearly jumped out of her skin when a contraption came down over her head and fastened across her. It was just like a rollercoaster safety guard and she couldn’t budge it. So much for cars not having changed too much.

Spike placed his finger on the controls and the car started up. Buffy assumed it had started anyway, it was silent but the dashboard was lit up.

Spike pulled out of the parking lot and started down the road. Buffy, still a little wary of the newfangled ‘seatbelts’, stared out of the window at the skyline. Now that she looked properly she noticed everything seemed a little newer. The houses were still in Spanish style but they looked as though they had been fairly recently built and she spotted a single skyscraper in the near distance. That was certainly new.

“Whole town was rebuilt,” Spike told her as if reading her mind. “Called New Sunnydale now. Not very original but there you have it.”

Buffy tore her eyes away from the scenery to him. “Why?”

“Long story,” was all he said.

Buffy sighed. “I guess filling in thirty years is going to be one long story.”

Spike nodded. “I suppose it will. We’ll have to get Andrew down. He’s bound to have recorded the last thirty years in vivid detail.”

“Some things never change,” she smiled softly.

“Yeah, that little git is still pointing his lens at anything that moves,” he chuckled good-naturedly. “It might actually be worth giving him a call. Problem is once you get him on the phone he won’t sod off. But I’ll brave it for you.”

Buffy’s eyes skated over his profile. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Spike’s gaze remained fixed on the road and he suddenly seemed distant.

His statement seemed to run deeper than she knew but she didn’t press him on it. It had been a long day and she was too tired to delve into whatever issues Spike was having. She figured if he wanted her to know then he would tell her. After all, it had been thirty years for him and maybe he didn’t want to confide in her anymore. He had his wife for that.

Her eyes fixed on the silver band wrapped around the finger on his left hand. She was suddenly reminded why going to stay with Spike was such a horribly bad idea. She couldn’t stay with him and his…wife.

“I can’t do this,” Buffy blurted out suddenly, struggling with the restraints. “Just pull over and let me out.”

Spike did a double take trying to keep his eyes on the road. “You what? Buffy, you’re in my charge. What’s wrong?”

“Just say I escaped, okay? This is…it won’t work. Let me out and I’ll find somewhere else to go.” Buffy pulled on the restraints. “God, why won’t these stupid things open? Or lift or whatever? Stupid futuristic seatbelts of annoyance!”

He pushed a button on the dash and took his hands off the wheel, turning to face her fully. Buffy was about to start yelling how she really didn’t fancy being involved in a car crash today just to top things off, when she noticed that the car seemed to be driving itself.

Buffy gaped. “What the crap?”

“Auto-drive. Actual driving is a dead art form,” Spike rolled his eyes. “Brings me almost to tears, really. Now what the hell is wrong?”

She took a second to marvel at the technology before responding. “I can’t stay with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” She threw up her hands, giving up on freeing herself from the evil car that was holding her captive. “Because…you’re…you’re married, Spike. You’re married. That’s a whole new realm of weirdness and awkwardness and I can’t deal with it.”

Spike reclined back in his seat, sighing. He rubbed his brow and closed his eyes. “I was married, Buffy. I’m not anymore.”

She looked at him unsure what to do or to say. Buffy felt a strange feeling come over and she realised with shame that it was relief. She was relieved he was divorced. That was a horrible thing to think but it was how she felt. She didn’t know Spike’s ex-wife; the very fact that he had an ex-wife was hard for her to accept. She was still going by her Spike and her feelings towards him. Thirty years hadn’t passed for her, not even thirty hours had passed since she’d last seen him.

“Then why do you still wear the ring?”

He shrugged slowly. “Because I’m a pathetic sod, that’s why. Because I always have been when it comes to love.”

Buffy looked straight ahead, awkward. “You still love her?”

Just asking the question caused a lump to form in her throat. She knew that when Spike fell in love he fell hard. And if he had loved this woman enough to marry her then chances were he was still in love with her and probably would be for a very long time. Maybe even an eternity. Buffy clenched her jaw and took in a deep breath.

“I do,” he nodded. “Losing her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through. All these years have passed and we still haven’t found a cure. It makes me sick to my stomach.”

She frowned. “Cure for what?”

“Cancer.”

Buffy turned to him, eyes wide. “You mean…she…died?”

“Five years ago.” Spike confirmed. “What with Giles and Dawn and then her…it’s been a tough decade.” He looked down at the floor.

Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat, suddenly feeling horribly guilty for her previous gladness of Spike’s break-up. The mention of Giles and Dawn made her look away. It still hadn’t sunk in completely. She’d lost two of the most important people in her life and Spike had lost three. The world had truly gone to hell in the years she had been gone. Nothing was right here.

“I’m sorry.” She managed to utter without looking at him.

Spike cleared his throat, voice raspy. “It’s fine. You didn’t know. And you’ve got enough problems of your own. You don’t need mine too. Point is, Buffy, I want you to stay with me. It’s the best place for you right now. There’s no obligation for you to stay once the Council and H.U decide on your situation, though. I’ll let you go.”

He pressed a button on the dashboard and took control of the car again. Then he added with a rueful chuckle. “Not that I could keep you if you wanted out. Never could keep you.”

Buffy looked at him out of the corner of her eye and saw a tightness around his eyes. Vampires didn’t age, as a rule, but Spike definitely looked weathered. With all the crap that had happened to him of late it wasn’t surprising. Time eroded him just like a statue, still looking essentially the same but a little bit rougher around the edges.

When she looked around again Buffy saw they were no longer in Sunnydale, or at least not that she recognised. It was a much more rural area. Few houses, a lot of open land. It was strange to a girl who had grown up in the city. Spike turned onto a dirt road. It was long and winding and took them to a house that stood alone; neighbouring houses could only be barely seen in the distance. Buffy wondered how long she they had been in the car and whether she was losing time. It would make sense considering all that she had been through today.

“Where are we?” She asked, looking around.

“My house.” Spike answered. “Just outside the borders of New Sunnydale. When they rebuilt the town they made it even smaller; if you can believe that. Lot more space for green land. Trying to make it look all nice for the mass of tourists that flock there. Get rid of its old negative reputation and so forth.”

Buffy just nodded dumbly and tried to process all this. Spike pressed another button and the seat restraints lifted mercifully. He climbed out of the car and Buffy followed suit.

Spike’s house was a bungalow. She guessed he had no need for an upstairs – closer to the sun and all that. The design was simple; it looked to be made of strong brick. A house that would last. She could see how that would appeal to an immortal.

Following him up the porch steps Buffy noticed he had a porch swing similar to one her house had. He opened the door to his house in the same manner he had opened the car – placing his hand on the door and getting scanned. Buffy guessed being a thief in this day and age was not an easy feat. Not that she was all for making criminal’s lives easy or anything.

The Slayer followed him inside and into the hallway. It was a pretty plain hall with a long rug on the floor and nothing much else. Spike dropped his briefcase and slung his jacket on the floor carelessly. Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This was his house. He could do what he liked.

He led her into the living room. It wasn’t how she imagined a house of the future would look like. For one thing it wasn’t all glass and steel and the whole minimalist look. Not that she thought Spike would go for the ultra modern style but she hadn’t exactly expected this, either. The room looked…comfy. Plush carpet, large leather chairs that looked like you’d sink into them if you sat, a coffee table, a modest size television embedded into the wall. There was a fireplace and several shelves of books on two of the walls.

The room smelt of tea and the musk of books and of a room that was lived in. It reminded her of Giles’ place. The thought suddenly made her remember and she sucked in a lungful of air.

Trying to distract herself Buffy made her way over to the fireplace upon which she noticed sat one framed picture. When she got nearer she knew her suspicions had been true. It was a picture of Spike and, she guessed, his wife. The woman stood next to him, head laid against his shoulder, an easy smile crossing her lips. Spike’s arm was wrapped around her waist and he too wore a half-grin. She was pretty. Brunette with dark eyes and tanned skin. Maybe with some Italian or Spanish in her somewhere. Buffy’s eyes, however, were more draw to the third person in the picture. A dark-haired girl who was nestled into Spike’s other side.

Buffy turned to the vampire who stood behind her. “Who’s the girl?”

“That’s Mya. My daughter.”

“Your WHATter?!” Buffy exclaimed.

Spike stepped around her and picked up the picture of his family. “Daughter. She’s just turned sixteen. A bloody handful, too.”

Buffy stared at him and felt like she’d been dealt another blow. A kid. He had a kid. Spike, of all people, had a child. A wife, a child, a house in suburbia, a job, a car – he’d been truly domesticated. What was next? A white picket fence and a dog called Fido. Buffy did a quick scan of the room looking for chew toys or a dog bowl but found none.

Despite the very fact that Spike had a child was shocking it was also, as far as she knew, impossible. So she suspended her disbelief momentarily to ask a pressing question.

“Spike, you’re a vampire. I kind of thought that meant you were lacking…” she groped for the right word, flustered. “…you know, the baby-making necessities.”

He smirked and looked at the picture a moment more. “That much is still true. Although there are exceptions to every rule. We got Mya when she was six years old. She’s adopted.”

Well, that answered that question then. Before she could ask any further questions she was interrupted by a melodramatic shriek.

“I’m what?!”

Buffy turned to her right to see the girl standing in the doorway, hands pressed against her cheeks and mouth wide in the universal sign for shock. The Slayer could tell that this was Mya; she still looked quite like her photo. Long wavy dark brown hair falling around her shoulders, cool blue eyes with long dark lashes framing them, tanned skin and a bone structure that was almost as gorgeous as her father’s. God, Spike is her dad…

“That’s really funny, no, really,” Spike snorted at her.

Mya shrugged easily with one shoulder, her lips melting into a smile. “I got my wit from you, father.” She replied mockingly. Then her eyes turned to Buffy, appraising. “Hi.”

“…Hello…” Buffy managed while studying the girl probably a little too intently. She was just so amazed that Spike had a daughter and now that daughter was standing only a few feet away.

Spike cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. “Mya, this is…this is Buffy.”

The girl opened her mouth; brow creased, then closed it upon Spike’s look. Mya then turned her gaze back to Buffy with a newfound interest. In fact she seemed to be studying her just as hard as the Slayer had previously done to her. The two women locked eyes and both laughed nervously.

Mya spoke first. “How is this possible? I mean, you are the Buffy, right?”

“I guess I am,” she nodded, smiling. “Unless it’s suddenly become a really popular name. Which I can’t see happening.”

“Dad?”

Spike placed the picture back on the fireplace. “Remember I told you she went away? Well, she came back. With a slight delay of thirty years.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I see... but she looks exactly like she does in those pictures you have.”

“You have pictures?” Buffy asked, surprised.

Spike mumbled to himself and slumped down onto the couch. The Slayer didn’t prod him further although she wanted to. Spike had pictures of her? It wasn’t the most shocking revelation – not by far – but it meant something to her. What exactly it meant she wasn’t sure of yet.

Mya came closer, a quizzical look on her face. “Thirty years, huh?”

“S’what I’ve been told.”

“Was it some kind of other dimension? One where time goes slower than ours?” She asked.

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “I guess. You know about that kind of stuff?”

“Yeah, my Aunt taught me all about it.” She nodded.

Spike looked up, catching Buffy’s eye. “She means Dawn. She called her Auntie Dawn.”

Buffy sat down quickly in the armchair opposite him before she fell down again. Just the mention of her sister’s name brought it all back to her. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths trying to control herself. It would do no good to lose it in front of Spike and his daughter.

His daughter.

She thought she might be hyperventilating and possibly feeling a little faint because when she opened her eyes the room was moving in a way that made her feel more than a little sick.
“Are you okay?” Mya questioned, her voice sounding slower and deeper.

Buffy looked up at her. “No, I’m really not.”

Spike stood again and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Give us a few minutes, would you? Go do that thing you like to do.”

“What thing?” Mya frowned.

“I was tryin’ to be subtle, dearest.” Spike threw his hands up. “Kids these days have got no tact, I tell you.”

Mya rolled her eyes. “That was subtle, huh? You could have just told me to sod off like you do when you’re watching soccer. Jeez.”

“It’s football!” Spike protested.

“Whatever!” She strolled out of the room and disappeared.

Buffy and Spike looked at each other and he was the first to look away. She sighed and looked at the floor. She wanted to ask about Dawn and Giles and everyone else but then she thought if she did she might just scream. And that wasn’t an option. So instead she tried small talk.

“She has the American slang. Bet that pisses you off.”

Spike chuckled and walked over to the fireplace, leaning against it. “Not too much. I’m used to it now. She has quite a way with English swear words, though. So it’s not all bad.”

Buffy smiled politely. “Was your…her mother American?”

“Yeah, Californian girl born and raised.”

She nodded. “Just like me.”

Spike looked anxious. “S’pose so.”

“I didn’t mean…” Buffy trailed off, clearing her throat. “What was her name?”

“Claire.”

“Claire. How did you meet?”

He looked at her openly, finally. “Buffy, do you really want to know all this?”

“No,” she replied honestly. “But then again I don’t want any of this to have happened. I want it all to be back as it was. I know that’s selfish of me.”

Spike shook his head. “No, it’s understandable.”

“Spike, I want you to be the same guy I left back at my house a couple of hours ago. I don’t want you to have been married, to have a child. I can’t help it.” She stood, turning away. “I don’t know if I can’t deal with this. I mean your daughter was just standing a couple of feet away from me. You have a daughter, for god’s sake, and it’s freaking me out!”

He replied wryly. “It freaks me out too, sometimes.”

“Spike.” Buffy scowled.

He sighed and threw up his hands. “I don’t know what to say, Buffy. I don’t know what to do anymore than you do. I never thought I’d see you again. We thought you were dead.”

“You got over it soon enough.” She turned back to him.

He pointed at her, face grave. “You don’t get to say that! You don’t know what I went through. I didn’t even look at another woman for fifteen years. And I didn’t go looking for love, it found me.”

“Yeah, well,” Buffy stepped closer, facing him down. “I’m sorry if I’m finding it all a little hard to grasp. You try missing out on thirty years of all your friend’s lives!”

“I know it’s hard for you but it’s hard for me too! Seeing you again, out of nowhere, it was like…I can’t even describe it. If you think that this is easy for me then you are dead wrong. You may have lost the past thirty years but I wanted to lose them. For a long time every day for me had to be endured, not lived. I came this close to taking a nice long summers day stroll so many times I lost count. I would’ve bloody done it too if Harris and the Bit hadn’t stopped me!” Spike exclaimed, jaw tight.

Buffy searched his face, silently; when she spoke again it was softer. “Xander?”

“Yeah, well,” his shrugged wearily. “Some things change in years past. I won’t say we’re best mates or what have you, but we’re alright with each other now. Most of the time.”

“Wow,” she said, trying to diffuse the fight that was waiting to happen. “Miracles do happen.”

He nodded, simmering down. “I’d say so, considerin’ you’re here.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” She almost smiled.

Spike did break out into a crooked grin for a moment before he let out a pent-up breath, running a hand over his hair. He murmured something about needing a cigarette and in that moment he was the same Spike he had always been, just lacking the coat. She found herself walking towards him and he looked mildly surprised when she put her arms around him. Buffy buried her face in the junction between his neck and shoulder and just closed her eyes.
For a moment he stood unmoving in the circle of her arms but then he wrapped one arm around her and his free hand stroked her hair gently. And for a short while Buffy forgot and it was good.

She didn’t think she would sleep at all. When Spike showed her to the guest bedroom and told her she should get some rest she had insisted emphatically that that wasn’t going to happen. She had only lain down on the comfy bed – embedded into the floor just like the one in the cell – for a moment, and yet she woke up three hours later.

And when she woke up she had forgotten. It only lasted a moment; the relief. Then she remembered and it all crashed down on her again. Weary, Buffy sat up and looked around the room. It was quite bare. The walls were the colour of coffee stains, the flooring wooden. In one corner of the room sat a computer on a desk littered with papers.

She stood and walked over to it, eyeing the computer. It looked a lot like the computers of her time. Clearly Bill Gates had run out of ideas in the past thirty years. Buffy picked up a pile of papers and was surprised to see they were sheets of poetry. Poetry by many different poets but all love poems. Buffy turned her attention to the one on the top of the pile.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

that this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

“I see you found dad’s ode to geekness,” Mya said suddenly, from the doorway.

Buffy jumped and whirled around to face the girl, papers still clutched in her hands. The girl just smiled and took another step into the room. That overwhelming weirdness hit Buffy again. This was Spike’s daughter. Okay, so, technically speaking she wasn’t his biological daughter…but he had raised her. She called him dad. It was odd. More than odd.

The Slayer cleared her throat. “I didn’t know he liked poetry.”

“Only since forever,” she said simply. “He’s putting together all his favourites. I have warned him he’s one step away from wearing a beret and owning bongo drums.”

Buffy laughed, setting the papers back down on the desk. “I’d like to see that.”

“I, however, would really not.” Mya grinned and wandered over to the desk, letting her hands skim over the papers. “This must be weird for you.”

She nods slowly. “That it is.”

They looked at each other for a moment, neither of them sure what to say next. Buffy bowed her head and looked down at her bare feet. They were incredibly dirty and she imagined the rest of her was too. She didn’t want to even imagine what her hair looked like.

“Is there a shower I could use?”

Mya brightened up. “Of course. I’ll show you where it is. Do you have any clothes to change in to? It’s really too hot for a sweater.”

“No, I haven’t got anything.”

Ain’t that the truth? Mya ushered her out of the room professing she could borrow some of her clothes, as they were practically the same size and build. Buffy waited as Mya went into her room to get the clothing. When she came out she handed the Slayer a towel, jeans and a tank top.

The designs of showers hadn’t changed much either. To turn on the hot water or the cold there were simply a button for each. There was also a button in the middle and Mya informed her that if she pressed that the shower spray would come out at optimum temperature. Buffy had no idea what that meant but when she was left alone to bathe, she decided to be wild and impulsive and she pressed the middle button.

The shower beeped and started. The water came out at what could only be described as perfect. Not too cold. Not too warm. Buffy sighed and stood beneath the spray, hoping to wash away the day.

It hadn’t even been a minute when she heard a knocking on the door.

“Buffy?” Spike called.

She spluttered beneath the water. “What?”

“Oh. Nothing,” he replied. “Just checkin’.”

Buffy frowned and heard his footsteps retreating. She shrugged to herself and returned to washing her hair. After ten minutes of soaking herself at ‘optimum temperature’ she turned the shower off and towelled herself dry. After staring anxiously at the pile of Mya’s clothes she finally pulled them on. It was all kinds of weird but she had nothing else and they actually fitted her.

When she left the bathroom she was could hear Spike humming in the kitchen and listening to the radio, the sounds of pots and plans clattering, and then Mya laughing hysterically. The Slayer paused outside the room for a moment, collecting herself, before hovering in the doorway.

Spike was at the cooker frying some bacon, a dishtowel thrown casually over his shoulder as he belted out his rendition of ‘Born in the USA’. Mya stood beside him slicing up onions and occasionally joining in with envious air guitar skills. Buffy smiled.

Mya turned and caught sight of her. “Buffy! Hey, we’re making you food. I had to remind this guy here that we humans actually have to eat. Figured you must be starving.”

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded and at that precise moment her stomach rumbled. “Thank you.”

Spike turned away from the stove. “I’m making bacon. You like yours well done, right?”

“Right.”

She wondered how it was he remembered that. In fact, she wondered how it was he even knew that in the first place. Maybe he paid more attention than she realised. Still, to remember it thirty years on…strange. But good strange.

Spike nodded, smiled, and turned back to the stove. Mya skipped over to her, long hair bouncing behind her and linked their arms. Buffy was a little surprised but she let herself be led away and outside. Mya took her into the backyard which was enshrouded in darkness; tiny lanterns lined the sides of the huge garden, and they sat at a table just outside the back door. The doors were actually like huge windows, that slid, so when she turned and looked she could see back into the bright kitchen and at Spike burning the bacon and cursing.

The grass was cool and damp beneath her bare feet and Buffy sighed, enjoying the feeling of it against her soles. When she looked up she found Mya watching her with curiosity. The girl looked down, embarrassed to have been caught.

“You’re…not what I expected,” she said quietly, gazing at the tabletop. “Not that I know what I expected. I never thought I’d meet you.”

Buffy nodded. “I could say the same about you.”

Mya laughed. “Yeah, gotta be a shock.”

“Slight understatement,” Buffy laughed with her. “But I’m glad. I’m glad he’s happy.”

She looked up. “He’s not, you know. Happy.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say to that and even if she had thought of something she would have been interrupted by Spike opening the sliding doors and stepping out into the backyard carrying two plates of food.

“Dinner is served,” he announced jauntily. “I went for a bit of the old full English breakfast – but in a dinner kind of way.”

Mya quirked an eyebrow. “That made total sense.”

“Why do you always have to sass me, hmm?” Spike set the plates down.

She shrugged with one shoulder. “’Cos you make it so easy?”

“Charming,” he rolled his eyes and sat down next to Buffy.

The Slayer watched the two of them, interacting as if they’d known each other for years. And, of course, they had. It reminded her a lot of the way Spike and Dawn had been with each other. She tried not to dwell on that too much, though.

Instead she set to work on the burnt bacon and the rest of the food. Devouring it unapologetically.

Spike sent Mya off to get them drinks of some kind and when she was out of earshot he spoke. “Buffy.”

“Yes?” she looked at him.

“I’ve been given permission to work from home for the next couple of days. To get you up to speed on everything,” he explained gently. “If you’re up to it that is?”

Buffy set down her knife and fork. “I’ll have to be.”

Spike nodded. “If you need anything just ask.”

“Got a time machine?”

“Sadly lacking in that department,” he replied, pausing. “But I do happen to have a whole freezer of ice-cream in various flavours. I’ve heard it’s the next best thing.”

Buffy smiled a little. “Ice-cream is good. Although not such a good idea right after eating burnt bacon.”

“That’s not burnt! It’s ‘well done’.”

Mya appeared with drinks. “He lacks cooking skills. But he does try.”

“Oh, sod off the pair of you,” Spike grumbled good-naturedly.

“So, Buffy,” Mya sat back down. “What was my dad like thirty years ago?”

Spike shook his head. “Oh no. Let’s not even go there, I think.”

“And yet I think we must.” Mya beamed.

“Buffy’s had a long day and –”

“He’s…he was a good man.”

Mya snorted. “Christ, what happened?”

“Oi!” Spike protested. “What is this? Pick on Spike day?”

Buffy’s lips curved up in a smile. “There, there.” She patted him on the head.

Spike pouted and the expression made Mya crack up which, in turn, made Buffy laugh. And maybe it was too soon to laugh. But, really, it had been thirty years. And so she laughed.



** The poem is an extract from one of Pablo Neruda's poems.

It was still strange waking up in Spike’s house. It was still strange that Spike even had a house. She was so used to him living with her, not the other way round. In fact she was so used to it that when she awoke the next morning she actually started to make her way down to the basement, bleary eyed and half asleep still. It was only when she walked straight into the coffee table, hitting her shin painfully, and flying over it headfirst into the couch that she remembered she wasn’t at home.

Scrabbling up quickly, now fully awake, Buffy looked around and was relieved to find that no one had seen her nosedive. When she was content that she hadn’t been rumbled, the Slayer sat down on the couch and fussed over her aching leg.

“Stupid future coffee tables,” she mumbled to herself.

It was still early and no one else was up and she was glad for that. She needed a while to compose herself. Both superficially and the other stuff.

“Woah, Buffy it’s you!” Mya announced as she bounded into the room. “I thought we had a birds nest in the house.”

The Slayer patted her hair self-consciously. “Hey!”

“Sorry,” she grinned, slumping into an armchair, looking perfectly coiffed yet still dressed in her pyjamas. “Sarcasm is kind of a tradition in my house. I was raised on the stuff. Does a body good.”

Buffy was still smoothing her hair down. “You could go easy on guests.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just I’ve been told so much about you I kind of feel like I already know you. But I’ll be on my best behaviour now.” Mya held up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute.

This interested the Slayer. “Spi…your dad talked about me?”

“Uh huh,” Mya picked her nails absently, legs flung over the armrest. “But then everyone did. You were like the woman, the legend - Buffy Summers! Perfection personified. Kind of a relief to see you get bed head like the rest of us.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m far from perfect.”

“I see that now.”

“Hey!”

Mya chuckled. “Sorry, I can’t help it. I do have an incredibly snarky Brit for a dad, you know. Dry sense of humour and all that.”

“Mmm, I think I like my humour wet.” Buffy paused. “Forget I said that.”

Mya nodded. “Gladly.”

They looked at each other a moment and then the girl broke the spell by clicking the TV on. Buffy actually found herself interested in what was on, looking for any kind of clue as to what else had changed in the years she had been gone. She was hoping for a news show or something else useful. So, of course, a rerun of Friends was on. Granted, the picture quality was so high she could see Ross’ nose hairs but really. The future was shaping up to be much like the past. Except for the important things.

And one of those important things was coming through the door right at that moment. Spike slammed the door closed behind him, calling out “I bought strawberries! I’m officially a nancy.”

Buffy turned to look over the back of the couch as he entered the living room carrying brown grocery bags. Woah to the domesticity. And, also? Spike was wearing shorts. Spike. In shorts. Spike had legs! Well, obviously she already knew that but Spike didn’t show his legs. And yet, shorts. Shorts and a T-shirt and sneakers to be exact. In fact it looked like…

“Enjoy your jog?” Mya asked, nabbing the strawberries from him when he held the pot out to her. “Your disgustingly healthy lifestyle still appals me, by the way.”

Spike was sweaty. Buffy noticed that now. He had sweat patches on his chest and his hair was slick with it. And that was weird because why did vampires even sweat? She’d never really thought about it before but it confused her now. The Spike in shorts thing had thrown her completely off her game.

He nodded. “It was alright. Some old dear pinched my bum, though. I’m really sick of getting sexually harassed by women. And men.”

“You poor, poor man.” Mya scoffed, biting into a strawberry.

Spike turned to Buffy and held out a bag to her. “I, uh, got you some clothes. Since you can’t keep wearing Mya’s stuff. Don’t want you to look like a pre-teen Spice Girl now, do we?”

“Uh! How dare you?” his daughter complained.

Buffy took the bag from him and peered in briefly. “Thank you.”

“I think I got the right size. I was getting some looks browsing around the women’s section, so I was in and out as fast as possible.” Spike ran a hand over the back of his neck, and the movement made the sunlight glint on the face of his watch.

And something very important occurred to Buffy.

“You were just out. In the sun?” She sat up straight.

Spike glanced at Mya who looked curious. “Yeah, see that’s one of things I wanted to talk to you about today. The changes and –”

“Vampires don’t die by sunlight anymore?”

“No, they do.” He sat down on the armrest of the couch. “If they’re not wearing the proper protection.”

Buffy frowned. “Protection?”

“It’s…well, basically it’s like sun cream –”

“But for the undead.” Mya chimed in.

“Right. But a lot stronger and it’s not a 100% cure or anything, you can only be outside for half an hour…an hour tops, before you start to burn.” Spike explained slowly. “And you have to be covered head to toe. I’m slathered in the stuff everywhere. I can still find it sometimes, days afterwards, in all my nooks and crannies…”

Mya scrunched up her face. “Um, ew?”

“Seconded.” Buffy paused, thinking about all this. Not the nooks and crannies. Well, maybe a little. “So, you can…walk in the sun? Watch the sunrise?”

“I can.”

Her eyebrows rose and she blew out a breath. “That’s got to be…well, it’s great. For you.”
Spike smiled, remembering. “Yeah, you should have seen me the first time I tried the stuff. Scared shitless that it was all a crock then…it was amazing. You should’ve seen it!”

“I’d have liked to,” she said softly.

The looked at each other and then it just happened. It all clicked back into place and it was Old School Spike and Old School Buffy and nothing had changed. They were back to where she had left it.

Mya stood up. “I’m going to go do that thing I like to do. That thing I like to do when my dad is eye flirting. ’Scuse me.”

Both Buffy and Spike looked away in different directions as the girl made a bolt for it. Spike laughed nervously, muttering about his daughter as Buffy shifted awkwardly on the seat.

“She terrorises me,” Spike said finally. “Teenage girls are not my forte.”

Buffy shrugged with one shoulder. “I wouldn’t say that. You were a good babysitter.”

“Dawn was more like a mate, though.” He said.

She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about her. You said you bought food? I think the future decrees I should be fat.”

Spike rose and picked up the grocery bag, handing it to her. “You have got thirty years of eating to make up for. So, in your standards that amounts to about three plates of dinner.”

She picked up an orange from the bag and threw it at him. He caught it expertly and bit into it, zest and all. Then he instantly regretted it and spat out the chewed up orange, gagging noises following shortly after. Buffy laughed at his showboating and the consequences of it as he stumbled off to shower.

Then she sighed to herself and walked back to the guest room to get changed into the clothes Spike had bought for her. She chose a plain skirt and top that didn’t do much to flatter her figure and were a little loose but they weren’t all that bad. At least he hadn’t gone the Buffybot route of a pink skirt. That would have been more than a little freaky as well as a fashion faux par. Not that she really knew what the fashion was now but it seemed pretty similar to what it had been before. Buffy would have thought they’d all be wearing silver one-piece bodysuits. Or maybe she’d just been secretly hoping that. She’d rock a silver bodysuit hard.

When she had dressed and finger-combed her hair she left the guest room and went in search of Spike’s room. She wouldn’t try and deny that it was anything other than nosiness. She wanted to know what Spike’s room was like, so she passed Mya’s room where she could hear the girl singing along to something on the radio, and found the only other room in the house.

Glancing around she pushed the door open and stepped in. She could hear a shower running and guessed that Spike had an en suite bathroom. His room was probably the largest in the house, which she guessed was fair enough. The walls were painted a nice shade of blue that Buffy wouldn’t have guessed was to Spike’s taste. But then, she didn’t know his taste anymore. And maybe his wife picked it out. Best not to go there.

His bed was the centrepiece of the room, a modest-sized double bed with dark blue sheets. There was a nightstand next to it on one side and she walked over to it. On the nightstand was a picture of Spike, his wife and Mya standing by a lake on what seemed to be a family holiday. But there were two other people in the picture. One was Dawn. She looked older and more beautiful. Standing with her arm around Spike and Mya, looking content and relaxed, smiling easily. Buffy’s gaze lingered on her for a long while before she regarded the man in the picture. She didn’t know him. He was tall with dark hair and an athletic build. Pretty in a college boy kind of way. But she didn’t know him. She put the picture back down on the nightstand.

There were a lot of shelves in Spike’s room, all full to the brim with books of all shapes and sizes. In fact, the books were now piling up on the floor where he had run out of shelf space. Buffy had known Spike liked to read but she didn’t realise he was a Giles in the making. Walking over to the shelves she glanced at the spines of the books casually, without much interest. A lot of the books were poetry or prose but then she started to notice a change. Magic books. Books about dimensions. About portals. About the Watcher’s Council. About Slayers and their heritage. Buffy picked up one of the books about dimensions and opened it up. Several pages had been dog-eared. She scanned the pages briefly. She didn’t understand much but what she did understand was that Spike had been researching the portal that the shadow puppets had opened up.

“Never did find a clue on how to get you back,” Spike announced from the doorway of the en suite.

Buffy jumped, nearly dropping the book in the process, as she turned to him. He had a towel wrapped tightly around his waist and another thrown over his shoulder, hair dripping wet. He looked mildly embarrassed and also regretful.

She put the book back on the shelf. “It means something that you tried.”

“It doesn’t, you know,” Spike sighed despondently, sitting on the corner of his bed, head bowed. “Not when it’s my fault you’ve been gone all these years.”

Buffy cocked her head at him. “Your fault? Is this one of those times where you’re being all noble and blaming yourself?”

“No,” he watched as his toes jumped up and down erratically. “This is one of those times where it was my fault. The exchange.”

She folded her arms. “The exchange. What was the exchange?”

“You for a demon.”

“You didn’t find the demon?”

“No, I found it.”

Buffy sighed. “Spike, stop being so cryptic. What happened? Why was it your fault?”

He blew out a long unnecessary breath and stood up, face serious. And it suddenly seemed absurd to her that they were about to have a conversation about this when he was dressed only in a couple of towels. Spike seemed to notice her gaze because he folded his arms over his chest and lifted his chin.

“I killed it. The demon,” he said softly. “And that’s why you couldn’t get back. It invalidated the exchange. In fact…we thought that it meant…that because I’d killed the demon…we thought it meant I’d killed you too.”

Buffy’s balance wavered for a moment before she righted herself. She didn’t know what to do, what to feel. She went through the emotions – anger, upset, confusion…but she settled on something else. She settled on sympathy. Not for herself. But for Spike. For what he must have put himself through. For what her friends no doubt put him through. To have thought his actions had ended her life – his earlier comments about trying to off himself became even more clear now, and his upset when he thought she was the First.

Spike turned away, pale back rippling. “I was stupid. I was reckless. And it cost you everything.”

“Spike –”

“I understand if you want to go,” he said flatly, still not looking at her. “I won’t tell the Council.”

Buffy took a step toward him but stopped. “I don’t want to go and I don’t blame you. You weren’t stupid. Tell me, Spike, if you hadn’t killed that demon would it have killed you?”

“Not the point.”

“It is the point,” she replied. “It’s the whole point. First rule of slaying – don’t die. You didn’t die.”

Spike whirled around to her, throwing his arms up. “But you did! I mean, you could’ve have. And you lost thirty years because of me!”

She shook her head. “Not because of you. Because of them. The Shadowmen and their games. They took those years from me. Not you. You tried to get me back. I could never blame you.”

“Dawn, Giles…both gone and you never got to say goodbye. That’s my fault. I should’ve been more cautious. I should’ve –”

Buffy held a hand up. “As I recall, the last conversation we had before I jumped into that portal, I told you –”

“’You keep holding back, you might as well walk out that door’,” Spike interrupted. “I remember. Played it over in my head a thousand times. A thousand thousand.”

“I told you to act. And you did.”

Spike looked away. “I don’t think Giles ever forgave me. Not sure any of them did. I sure as hell didn’t.”

Buffy took another step towards him. “Spike…I’ve missed thirty years, and that’s still sinking in with me. I’ve lost Giles. I’ve lost Dawn. And I don’t think that will ever sink in. But one thing I am sure of? I’m glad you’re here. You’ll never know how happy I was to see your face in that cell.”

“And you’ll never know how happy I was to see yours,” he countered, eyes searching hers.

Buffy smiled slowly and though he didn’t return the smile Spike seemed visibly relieved. As though a giant weight had been taken from his shoulders. She was sure he still blamed himself in part and that he always would no matter what she said. Hearing her say she didn’t hold him responsible meant a great deal to him, though.

Buffy wanted to hug him but she couldn’t. She didn’t know if it was okay. They’d hugged once but twice? That might be going into territory she wasn’t sure either of them could deal with. All through the past year – or her past year, anyway – she’d come to him for counsel, for guidance…but they hadn’t been physically close for some time. And now with Spike’s wife and his daughter things had become infinitely more complicated. She didn’t know where the boundaries were anymore.

Were they friends who touched? Who hugged? Were they just exes? That seemed too distant. Too cold. She wanted to be his friend. But there was something else there, even now. Even after it had been thirty years for him Buffy could swear he still looked at her with the same glimmer, albeit fainter.

“One thing doesn’t make sense to me,” Buffy frowned. “Why thirty years? Why keep me there for thirty years?”

Spike shrugged with one shoulder. “That’s something I’ve been wondering too. Probably the only way to find out would be to ask the ‘Shadowmen’…did you say? What was in that portal?”

“Just three scared guys. Kind of an anti-climax, actually. They tried to force feed me demon goo. I think it’s needless to say I won’t be going back there to question their methods.” She walked over and sat down on the bed before realising that maybe it would be impolite to do so, and stood up again.

Spike used the towel that was draped around his shoulders to dry his hair, fluffing it up amusingly in the process. “Demon goo?”

“Essence of a demon or whatever,” Buffy shrugged. “I was a bit busy trying to get out of the chains and screaming to take much note of the details.”

Spike shuddered. “Chained? Just like…”

“The First Slayer. They created her. I guess they were the First Watchers.”

He poked the corner of the towel into one of his ears, trying to get out any remaining water. “Sounds like. I’d ask if they told you anything useful, but I guess it’s a bit late for that anyway.”

“The First still exists, though, right? I mean you thought I was…”

“Right. Yeah, it’s still around. Haven’t seen one of its manifestations for a while but every now and then it’ll crop up and try and taunt one of us lot. Bit pre-school, now that I think about it. But in a really evil way.”

Buffy smiled briefly but soon turned serious. “But, I mean, you guys must’ve won? I still see a world. You stopped the apocalypse?”

“Barely,” he murmured. “With a little help turning up at the last moment.”

“What help?”

“We lost some people that day,” he said, skilfully avoiding her question.

A sense of foreboding dread filled her. “Who?”

“Some of the Potentials, Wood was touch and go for a while too but he made it,” Spike looked at her solemnly. “Anya didn’t.”

Buffy sat back down on the bed then, no longer caring if it was impolite. “God. I didn’t…I mean, we weren’t that close…not as close as we should’ve been but…”

Spike just nodded. Buffy hurt. She sat in silence for a few minutes. There had been too much loss. Though Anya hadn’t been one of her closest friends she still considered her a friend. And she couldn’t even begin to imagine what Xander had gone through. Just as it occurred to her to ask about him Spike spoke again.

“I was dead for a while too,” he told her, then paused. “Deader.”

Buffy looked up at him, alarmed. “You died? You died died?”

“Burnt to a cinder. Painful, that.”

She stood and her legs wobbled a bit. “Then…I…how are you…?”

“Got brought back,” Spike rolled his eyes as if it were all so commonplace. “Happens to us all at some time, it seems.”

“Willow…?”

“Christ, no,” he walked over to his dresser pulling some clothes out. “She’d have no reason to bring me back. In fact I wager they were all glad I’d buggered off. No, I was brought back from the dead by a Texan urban cowboy.”

Buffy frowned. “O-kay.”

“The story lacks some punch, I’ll admit.”

“I get the feeling there’s more to it.”

“Isn’t there always?”

She tilted her head and regarded him. “And I guess from that reply you aren’t going to tell me?”

“All in good time,” Spike turned back to her, holding a pile of clothing. “But I tend to think you need to know about the big things first.”

“These aren’t the big things? You dying isn’t a big thing?”

“Not in the grand scheme of it all,” his eyebrows raised. “The whole world is a very different place, and you’re up for first degree murder. That takes priority for me.”

Buffy took a breath and nodded. “I guess knowing how vampires are now up there with humans would be good.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I thought it might be.” She started towards the door. “I’ll be in the living room.”

Spike dropped the clothes down onto the bed. “And I’ll put some clothes on and then we’ll start.”

“Funny, you used to say the exact same thing thirty years ago. Except back then it was ‘I’ll take some clothes off…” Buffy mused as she walked out of the room.

Spike was afraid. Constantly afraid. Of her. It was ridiculous, but there it was. He was afraid of Buffy Summers. Not afraid of her in the traditional scream and run sense, that probably would have been easier. He could scream and run quite well.

No, he was afraid of what he would say, of what he might do to screw things up. He didn’t know how to be around her. He’d just gotten used to being without her. Well, no, that wasn’t exactly right. He’d never be ‘used to’ the absence of her. He used to see her sometimes, when she wasn’t there. For a time he thought it was her ghost. And then he realised it was just his own insanity.

The strangest of things would remind him of her. Tequila, for example, or Bette Midler. Spike laughed aloud to himself. He was sure Buffy would like to hear that. His laughter stopped abruptly as his thoughts turned serious again.

To say he had missed her would be the biggest understatement in the world. He didn’t miss her, he craved her. Not in the carnal sense. It was deeper than that, so much deeper. He would physically hurt from thinking of how it was his fault she was gone. How it was his fault he was without her, how Dawn didn’t have any family left at all. Spike would refuse to acknowledge Hank Summers as her family. In fact, he’d told the man so when he’d shown up one night shamefaced and sozzled.

But he was getting off track again and Buffy was waiting for him. He pulled some jeans on and glanced at the door. Buffy was waiting. That, in itself, was a miracle. He’d gone looking for her in the past couple of days just to make sure she was still there. Calling out to her when she was in the shower and making himself seem like a complete moron. He didn’t care though, he was trying to get used to saying her name aloud again. It had been a long while since he’d discussed her with Mya, and anyway it wasn’t the same as calling out ‘Buffy?’ and getting an answer. That was still very much new. Or old, depending on how he looked at it.

And, bloody hell, was it awkward. He was insanely happy she was alive and that she was around but it was hard to know how much of that happiness he should show. He was never sure how much to say or whether it would be alright of him to touch her. He wanted to touch her. Whenever she was close his fingers would tingle with the urge but he didn’t know if that was okay. He didn’t know if it was okay for Buffy, or for Mya.

His daughter was another big reason he didn’t know how to act around the Slayer. He didn’t want her to see the gravity of what he felt for the woman because although Spike had discussed it with her, he’d left things out obviously. And hearing about your dad loving another woman and seeing it were two very different things.

Spike was proud of Mya, though. Of how she was handling it all. In fact, she was probably handling the situation a lot better than he was. She wasn’t hostile towards Buffy as Spike might have feared. He was grateful for that. She was so mature for her age, not that she got that from him. That was all Claire.

Spike slipped a white T-shirt on and wandered over to the nightstand. He picked up the photo on it and looked at his wife. He missed her something chronic, the grief of losing her still fresh. Five years was almost nothing to a vampire. Spike sat down wearily on the bed, picture in his hands. He’d put her through so much shit, he didn’t know why she’d put up with it.
They’d met in Rome on one of his visits to see Dawn who’d been studying over there. A chance meeting, as all great meetings are. They didn’t meet in a bar or in a bistro, nor by some romantically crafted fountain or what have you. The first time he saw Claire was when she threw up on him. Needless to say, it wasn’t love at first sight.

She’d stumbled out of a nightclub as drunk as a badger up a tree and hurled all over him as he’d been out on one of his skulky creature of the night walks. He cursed like a sailor at her and, to his immense surprise, she returned it. They spent a good twenty minutes – in the middle of a Roman street under the moon and stars – calling each other all sorts of names.
Eventually Claire’s drunken state had gotten the better of her and Spike, now a little bit taken with her, offered to walk her home. She declined the offer and promptly fell flat on her face. So, instead he carried her home.

Spike smiled at the memory and set the picture back down. It hadn’t been easy for either of them. Spike felt the need to tell her about Buffy right at the beginning, he thought that only fair. To his surprise, she stuck around. Even through the nights when he didn’t come home. He did that sometimes. Not for anything untoward, just to be by himself. Claire understood and Spike was thankful for that, thankful for her.

Spike cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair, gathering up his nerve. He was annoyed at himself for being so scared. After all, it was only Buffy. Only Buffy. Spike snorted to himself. As if she could ever be described as ‘only Buffy’.

Still, as he stood and left the relative safety of his bedroom he could feel a small tremor in his hands and he scowled. It shouldn’t have been this hard, it should have been easy. He shouldn’t be thinking about how to react to her, he should have just been reacting. Over the years he had grown more cautious, though, he wasn’t the same vampire she had left behind all those years ago. He had responsibilities now; he couldn’t just rush over and grab her.

But god, she was beautiful. Just as he remembered her – which, of course she would be – sitting on the couch and looking around the room curiously. Spike halted in the doorway and watched her. Buffy yawned and threw an arm over her eyes casually.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d been watching her when she spoke.

“You ever going to announce your presence?”

Spike jolted and stepped into the room. “I’m here.”

“Really? Wow,” Buffy removed her arm from across her face and locked eyes with him, smiling. “You haven’t lost any of your stealth.”

He stood in the middle of the room unmoving like a lemming.

Buffy sat up straighter. “Uh…aren’t you supposed to be telling me something?”

“I missed you,” he blurted out.

Spike regretted it as soon as he said it. The look on her face was one of confusion and he wasn’t surprised. He was confused as well. Hadn’t he just been thinking how ‘missing her’ had been too trivial for the depth of his strife? God, he probably sounded like some teenage wanker.

“Er, what I mean to say is –”

“I missed you too,” she replied, smiling softly. “Those few hours without you were utter heartache.”

Spike let out a breath. “Sure, mock the guy from the future. Or…are you the girl from the past?”

Buffy shifted over on the couch. “I like to think we’re people of our presents. Time-wise and not gift wise. ’Cos that would be strange. Although, hey, gifts are nice…”

Spike laughed and walked over, sitting down in the armchair opposite her instead of next to her. “You have a way with words.”

“It’s my talent.”

“One of many,”

Buffy put a hand to her heart. “You’re too kind.”

“It’s my talent.”

She smiled and pulled her legs onto the couch, getting comfortable. He cleared his throat again, leaning forward and starting to speak. He hadn’t even gotten the first word out when the Slayer jumped, interrupting him and announcing she had something for him. When she started rifling around in her cleavage, Spike’s eyebrow arched.

“I’m sure that’s a very nice gift but…”

Buffy shot him a glare as she pulled a rumpled up bit of paper from her bra. Spike frowned. She handed it over. It was still warm from being close to her heart. He unfolded it. It was a scrawled list.

Bright light.
Giles – big crowd.
People strapped to beds. Looking spooked.
Partially eclipsed sun painted on wall.

He looked up at her.

She shrugged slowly. “I guess none of that makes much sense but I thought I’d ask.”

“No, no it makes sense.” Spike looked back at the paper. “But how…?”

“The Shadowmen. They showed me…things. Images. All a blur, really. There was more but that’s all I could remember.”

He nodded. “Well…I guess it’s easier to explain the last one first. That logo – eclipsed sun…that’s H.U’s logo.”

“H.U. People kept mentioning that at the police station. That’s where you work, isn’t it? What is it? And why did they hire you?”

He folded his arms and answered defensively. “Because I’m a very hireable prospect, that’s why. Not many people can say they’ve got a couple of hundred years of experience on their CV.”

“Experience of what? Maiming?”

“Of being a vampire,” Spike replied. “A vampire who turned ‘good’ of his own accord. They head-hunted me. H.U stands for Humanoids United.”

Buffy snorted.

“Crap name, good intentions.”

“The path to hell is paved…”

Spike waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. They fighting for equal rights for vampires in all areas of society, so I consider them the good guys. I wouldn’t work for them otherwise.”

She pulled a face. “Spike…vampires are evil, remember?”

“So I’m evil?”

“Well, no, but you were.”

He shrugged. “Some vampires are evil but then again so are some humans. I’m under no illusions - vampires are conditioned to commit acts of evil. But there are some things you should know.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, firstly, they’ve developed a blood substitute. Vampires are all put on a register and are issued rations of it to get by on every month.” Spike explained. “So, that means they’ve got no excuse for chowing down on a nice neck.”

Buffy’s eyebrows rose. “A blood substitute? Like meat substitute…but for blood?”

Spike grimaced at the comparison. “I suppose. Willow and Andrew developed it. She must have enjoyed being stuck in a lab with him for over a year.”

“Willow and Andrew!”

“Yeah, they do the odd bit of work for the H.U and the Council,” Spike nodded. “If they need something magical they’ll call Willow. Something geek? Call Andrew. For this they needed both. And a team of about three hundred people working non-stop for a year and a half.”

She took a moment. “Okay, what else is there?”

“Vampire’s are fully acknowledged under the law – both as criminals and as victims. Hence your spot of bother,” he told her. “They’ve got equal billings as humans on matters such as employment, immigration, adoption, crime and marriage.”

Buffy sighed. “See, there’s the thing. I don’t get it. Vampire’s are considered dead so –”

“Not anymore. Not dead. ‘Undead’. It’s been decided that vampires are still, essentially, humans. They just happen to have a demon living in them. In fact, some psychologists are arguing it’s just a severe form of split personality disorder.” Spike chuckled.

The Slayer’s eyes bugged in disbelief. “You are kidding?”

“I’m not. The old rule of – ‘you can kill a vampire because the person they once were is no longer in there’ doesn’t hold any weight anymore.”

“So…I’d…I mean, in terms of today’s laws I’m a…killer. A serial killer.”

Spike let out a breath, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t look at it like that, Buffy. Those slayings were committed before the new laws came to pass, you won’t be held accountable for them.”

“But I will for the vampire I killed when I came back.”

“I’m working on getting you off on that, trying to find a loophole…annoyingly, time travelling Slayers aren’t in any of the books. But I’ll find a way. The Council will understand. And so will H.U. I hope. It’s the man’s family that might kick up a fuss.”

She looked down at the floor. “He had a family. I thought he was attacking that girl.”

“You weren’t to know,” Spike wanted to go to her but didn’t. “You didn’t know any different, it’s in your instincts to slay vampires. It’s in your blood.”

Buffy locked eyes with him suddenly. “And now none of that matters. I’m a vampire slayer, Spike. This kind of makes me redundant. I don’t understand how this all came to pass in the first place. How did everyone find out about vampires and demons?”

“About the time we caved in the whole of Sunnydale, leaving behind a big crater. Attracted a bit of attention.”

“What!”

“In the battle against The First.” Spike told her. “I wore this necklace thing that caved in the Hellmouth and burnt me up to ashes.”

Buffy’s frown deepened. “A necklace.”

“Sounds less impressive then it was. Well, I mean, the necklace was god-awful but the whole battle was actually quite thrilling. For a violence lover like myself, that is. You’d have loved it,” Spike beamed.

She gaped.

He cleared his throat. “Right. This has got to be…a lot.”

“Yeah…that’s what it is.” She nodded. “You destroyed the whole of Sunnydale?”

“I did. Quite an achievement. Done my fair share of damage over the years but taking out a whole town? That was new.”

“All those people, Spike…”

Spike’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. Buffy, no. The town had been evacuated. People felt the Big Bad brewing. There was no one left but us. And the Turok-hans. And The First.”

“The Turok-Whas?”

“Ancient kind of vampire. Strong, rabid and much less pretty than the kind you’re used to.” He paused. “So, anyway, I destroyed the town and that sort of made the world’s ears perk up. Demons fleeing all over the place, not bothering to hide themselves…people couldn’t pretend anymore. It was all out in the open, for better or worse.”

Buffy looked at him, waiting for more.

Spike didn’t disappoint. “And, of course, it was for worse. People went mad. Demons went madder. And I missed it all. What with the being dead, you understand. I was mightily pissed off about that.”

“So…how did we get from that to…this?”

“With a long struggle. With treaties and talking and all that political bullshit. Oh, and the help of a handsome and debonair spokesman for vampires,” Spike grinned.

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “You?”

“Yes, me! Don’t have to sound so dubious, you know.” He grumbled. “Of course I was a ghost at that time but it didn’t seem to –”

“A ghost!”

Spike’s brow creased. “I didn’t mention that? Oh, well. Sod this. I need tea laced with something a lot stronger. I’m forgetting things in my old age. Tune in for more exciting exposition when I return…”

“So, where was I?” Spike questioned as he sat back down in the armchair, cup of tea in hand.

Buffy huffed impatiently. “Spike the friendly ghost?”

“Righto,” he sipped his tea and set the cup down on the table. “So I came back from the dead as a ghost. That lasted a few weeks and then I got turned corporeal again –”

“How?”

“That’s not really important, Buffy.”

“Spike, don’t you think I should decide whether it’s important or not?”

He paused. “I got brought back by a man called Lindsay McDonald.”

“Who’s he and why did he bring you back?”

“He was a lawyer and I don’t know.”

Buffy eyed him. “Spike.”

“It’s the truth.” He shrugged. “I told you it wasn’t important. Anyway, blah blah big battle blah blah bollocky blah. Then for a while – there was nothing. I mean, not nothing just not a lot. Patrolled as normal but no apocalypse, at least not ones I knew about.”

She leaned forward. “But who were you with?”

“With?”

“Yeah, were you back with the gang? Willow? Xander? Giles?”

“Oh, no. No. They’d all gone their separate ways.”

Buffy was surprised. “They’d split up.”

“Yeah. No hard feelings, an amicable thing. All just needed to go off and find themselves or whatever. I made my impromptu resurrection know to them…eventually…but we certainly didn’t have a reunion party or any such thing.”

“So, you were alone?”

“Yeah. Near enough. Visited Dawn every now and then, just to check up on her. She wasn’t too fond of me for a long while but we worked it out.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

“You know why.”

Buffy swallowed. “I told her that wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was,” Spike replied then sighed, rubbing his forehead. “So, one night on a routine patrol I was approached by a woman.”

“Is this a story I want to hear?”

He rolled his eyes. “She was government. Told me they were starting up a branch to keep the vampires in check. And she wanted me to be the poster boy for vampire redemption. You can imagine how many ways I told her to shove it.”

“Why you, why not –”

“The chip. The chip in my head. They were interested in it. They wanted to put a chip in every vampires head, effectively castrating them. Didn’t seem to matter that I didn’t have it anymore.” Before she had a chance to say any more he continued. “Anyway, they did. They made a chip and stuffed one in every vampire they could find on the register.”

“Register.”

“Yeah, to keep track of vampires. Like a census.” Spike took another sip of tea and turned to gaze out of the screen door. “It worked for a while, too. Vamps couldn’t bite anyone. Didn’t stop vigilantes staking ’em though. But it didn’t take for long. That’s when H.U came in. They rallied for vampires; they wanted to help them not to just contain them. They went to court stating that the chips were a breach of Vampire Rights.”

“Vampire Rights,” Buffy spluttered. “That’s…still a weird concept for me.”

Spike smiled lopsidedly. “Me too. But I like it. Anyway, they won the case and it changed everything. Suddenly vampires had rights. The chips came out and instead they worked at developing vampire’s consciences.”

Buffy shook her head. “Vampire’s don’t have consciences.”

“I do.”

“You have a soul.”

“I had a conscience before then, Buffy. I just didn’t listen to it. I felt a lot of things you claim a vampire can’t feel because they don’t have souls. Love, for one thing.”

She drew in a breath. “In the visions the Shadowmen gave me I saw people strapped to beds. And…I think there was blood. What was that?”

Spike looked down at the piece of paper. “My guess would be that was when we were developing the blood substitute. A few vampires had adverse reaction to some of the earlier samples, but they were all volunteers. Hell, I guinea pigged for it too.”

“So, who started H.U?”

“Just people. People and vampires. Like a lot of great things it had humble routes,” he shrugged. “They were looking for more workers and I got asked. And I said yes.”

Buffy eyed him. “Very sought after.”

He grinned. “Can you blame them?” the grin wilted. “Not everyone liked the idea of vampires having rights, though. There was rioting. Murder. Assassination attempts on me and the others. And then there was Giles.”

“Giles?” she sat up straighter.

“Yeah, Giles,” Spike looked weary suddenly as he drank his tea. “He was against us. He didn’t think vampires should have rights. ‘That way leads to the darkness overcoming us all…’ were his exact words, if I recall.”

Buffy shifted in her seat.

He looked at her. “You agree. I knew you would. Its okay, Buffy, it’s not in you to trust vampires. I know that.”

“No. I’m just picky with the vampires I trust.”

He smiled a little. “Yeah. Anyway, Giles made a lot of big speeches in Sunnydale Square so that’s another thing to tick off your list of visions. He rallied a lot of support. Nearly managed to bring H.U. down. He’s a bit of celebrity amongst humans and a figure of fear amongst vampires and other demons.”

Buffy looked down. “So, that’s why people kept laughing when I wanted them to call him.”

“Buffy…”

“I can’t talk about Giles anymore,” she looked up and locked eyes with him. “But I…Spike…where’s Angel?”

Buffy winced when Spike looked like she’d punched him in the gut. She’d noticed he’d been carefully avoiding bringing up the subject with her but she had to know. If Angel was dead too, she had to know.

He stood and scooped up his car keys and for a moment she thought he was going to leave. “He’s in custody.”

“Custody? He’s in prison!” Buffy stood up quickly, relief that Angel was still alive washing
through her and mixing with the worry. “Why?”

“Because he wouldn’t stop fighting.” Spike refused to meet her eyes.

Buffy’s lips parted. “He’s in jail for slaying vampires?”

He nodded slowly. “After the laws came into effect killing vampires constituted murder but Angel didn’t care. He still went patrolling every night. They branded him a serial killer and he’s serving two life sentences in an H.U prison.”

“Spike…”

“I’ve got clearance,” he started for the door, pulling a blanket off the couch as he went. “I’ll take you to him.”


+ + +


Buffy followed Spike down the long white corridor, watching the material of his T-shirt sliding against his shoulder blades. A guard walked in front of the vampire, escorting them. The sound of their combined footfalls was loud against the emptiness of the place.

The doors to the cells were all made of heavy duty steel and there were no windows just small compartments that unlatched when necessary. This meant Buffy couldn’t see into any of the cells and for that she was glad. She didn’t want to know. She just didn’t.

She was already feeling enough dread as it was. Angel. Angel was locked up and she didn’t know how long he’d been there either. It was all so strange and so frightening because she knew if she lost her case that it could be her fate as well. Two supposed champions of the light thrown in jail for doing what they’d thought was right. Buffy still wasn’t sure how Spike could have gone along with this and why he hadn’t tried to get Angel out of jail.
So many unanswered questions again.

They suddenly came to a stop outside of one of the cell doors and Buffy’s heartbeat felt like it increased tenfold. Spike nodded to the guard and he left, going back the way he came. The vampire turned to her, face worried and again she was struck by how he seemed to have aged.

“Buffy…” he breathed softly. “I just want you to prepare…he’s not the same Angel you knew…”

She spoke evenly, “Spike, open the door.”

He nodded and took out a credit card sized key-card and swiped it through the door. Buffy waited and then nearly crapped herself when a loud buzzing noise blasted through the corridor. Spike sighed and placed his hand on a panel by the door. It scanned his fingerprints and then beeped. The door unlocked. Buffy’s breath seemed to disappear.

He pushed the door open and stood aside for her.

Buffy took a shuddering breath and stepped into the doorway of the small cell. Her eyes fell on the figured sitting slouched on the bed reading a newspaper. All she could see of him was his legs, his bare feet and his hands.

Angel made a sound of annoyance. “Just leave it on the…”

His hands suddenly tightened on the paper and after a moment he lowered it, looking at her with shocked brown eyes. Buffy’s expression mirrored his albeit for a different reason. Because Angel had aged, he’d aged in thirty years almost as if…

As if he was human.

Buffy stood and stared and it was all she could do. Well, no, that wasn’t true. She could run. She stumbled backwards and hit the side of the doorway. The pain brought her mind some clarity and she clutched onto the wall as if was her buoy and she was drowning in the ocean. And, god, did it feel like that.

Angel sat up, dropping the newspaper, and slung his legs over the side of the bed never taking his eyes off her. His hair was streaked with grey, creating a salt and pepper effect that Buffy had always thought looked kind of neat. His face was lined in a way that said he had truly lived and Buffy thought that was kind of ironic.

He stood and he looked frailer to her, definitely leaner and without that supernatural grace he had once possessed. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, unsure, eyes still watching her. Buffy’s nails dug into the wall but she too couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“I thought…you were dead,” Angel managed eventually, voice soft with disbelief.

Buffy’s throat was dry and she had to clear it to speak. “I wasn’t.”

“I see that.” A tiny smile started at the corner of his lips and then expanded into a grin of joy. “Buffy!”

He came towards her, arms outstretched, and though Buffy wanted to turn and get the hell out of there she couldn’t. She couldn’t because it was Angel. He was still Angel. And so, when he gathered her in his arms in a hug full of happiness and relief Buffy let him and her hands clutched at his T-shirt as if holding on for dear life. The warmth she felt radiating from his body was strange and didn’t seem right at all and when she pressed her ear up against his chest and felt his heart beating it was all just too much.

Buffy pushed him away suddenly and stepped back. Angel stumbled into the wall and winced, followed by a look of worry. “Buffy, it’s me.” He looked at her earnestly. “It’s Angel.”

“You’re alive,” it came out sounding like a dirty word, which she didn’t understand at all.

“Yes,” he nodded and straightened. “I’m human again.”

“…How?”

He took a step towards her but stopped when she tensed. “I shanshued.”

“You…what?”

Spike stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder at his grandsire even as he spoke to her. “It was a prophecy. The vampire with a soul would become human again if he was enough of a champion. So, naturally, when it happened it stroked Liam’s ego something fierce.”

Angel scowled but it was playful and that was new. “Don’t call me that, William.”

Buffy glanced back at Spike as he shrugged and smirked. They were acting differently with one another. There was still the sarcastic jibes but it was all in a very brotherly way. It was freaking weird. Not weirder than Angel being human but still weird.

“A prophecy,” she uttered. “A…you’re human. God, what else has changed? How much more can there be!”

Spike placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

She watched him as he turned and left, walking further down the hall. The very fact that Spike had been considerate enough to leave them alone let her know he really had changed a lot in the past few years. Then again, everyone had it seemed. Everyone but her.

“Buffy.”

The Slayer turned back to face this new Angel. Or should that be old? A thought occurred to her. “How old are you?”

“Nearly 300? I don’t know, I lost count.”

“No, I mean…”

Angel crossed his arms over his chest, his shirt sleeves riding up to reveal tanned forearms. The rest of him was still pale but his forearms were sun kissed. She figured out why when she saw the tiny window above his bed, a barred window. The bars spaced far enough apart to just about get your arms through. He had done just that for the simple pleasure of feeling the suns rays upon his skin. Buffy felt a deep ache in her chest for him. Angel was confined, imprisoned, when in reality he had finally been freed. Freed of the darkness.

“In human years I’ve just turned fifty.”

Buffy nodded slowly, trying to remain blank and not go nuts. “Fifty. That’s…well, that’s the new twenty right? That’s what all the magazines are saying.”

“Actually, twenty is the new twenty. Fifty is just fifty,” he smiled warmly, a smile that lacked the usual hint of angst his smiles always held. “And yet, I see you haven’t aged at all. How is that possible, Buffy? Where’ve you been all these years?”

She shrugged slowly, awkward. “I went into a portal.”

“I know.”

“And when I came out thirty years had zipped by.”

He nodded. “Like that time I went to hell.”

“Kinda, ’cept without the torture. Well, there were some chains involved and getting hit by a stick but I guess that doesn’t compare…”

Angel let her ramble as he always had until she trailed off. “It’s good to see you again, Buffy.”

“It’s good to be seen again.”

“Kind of ironic, though,” he sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. “We waited all those years to be together. I wanted to shanshu so I could be with you and then I did and you were gone. And now…now I’m old. And you’re not. And –”

Buffy put a hand up. “Angel, please. Everything is hitting me all at once. I just found out about Giles…about Dawn…”

“Oh, Buffy,” he stood up again and came towards her.

And despite her earlier reaction to being held by him, she let him hug her again. This time she was half prepared for the warmth of his body and she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead against the base of his neck.

“I can’t do this.” She said, her voice muffled.

Angel stroked her hair gently. “You can. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“I don’t want to be strong. I just want to go back.”

“There is no back to go to, Buffy,” he murmured. “The world has changed and there’s no going back on that. No matter how much you wish there was.”

Buffy pulled back to look into his soft eyes. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” he smiled at her. “But you’re still in shock. There are a lot of things about this world that are still good.”

“Name one.”

Angel glanced at the doorway. “You’ve still got him.”

Buffy turned to look and found no-one there, but she knew who he meant. “No, I don’t. He’s different too. He has a kid, Angel! A kid!” she whispered it conspiratorially.

“Mya’s a good kid.” Angel shrugged. “She doesn’t call me Peaches or Forehead, which I like.”

Buffy nearly smiled but then it dropped. “He’s changed. Everyone is different. Even you. I thought…I thought I could count on you being the same as you always were.”

“And what was that?”

“You know; stoic and mysterious and a vampire type guy,” she pulled away from his arms. “And now you’re all human and locked up and Richard Gere-like.”

Angel laughed. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Buffy looked up into his brown eyes and he really was still Angel. Still her first love. Still able to make those butterflies rise up in her stomach and speed up her heartbeat. Angel’s smile faded, the creases around his eyes lessening. He stepped into her. He smelled of warmth and musk, beyond that the smell of cheap soap. His thumb and index finger rested upon her chin and tilted her face upwards towards his.

Angel whispered. “I’m stuck in here, like this, till I die. You’ve got another chance at life. A real chance.”

“No, I’m gonna get you out of here, Angel.”

“You can’t.” He said matter-of-factly. “And even if you could where would it get me? I’m old, Buffy.”

“You’re not that old!”

Angel smiled sadly. “Too old for you.”

“Hey, I like men to a have at least a hundred years on me,” Buffy reached out and took his hand. “I will get you out of here.”

He shook his head. “Don’t. There’d be no point. I’d just do it again. I can’t not slay vampires. I’d kill them until they kill me. And that probably wouldn’t take long.”

“I’m the Slayer, Angel. I slay vampires too. I’d take care of you.” She squeezed his hand. “And, hey, if not I might be joining you in here anyway.”


He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I dusted a vamp when I first came back and now I’m up for first degree murder. It could only happen to Buffy Summers, I swear.” Buffy paused. “Well, and you. I guess.”

Angel groaned. “Shit.”

“You cussed!” Buffy’s eyes widened. “So, you’re a cusser now?”

He looked blank. “I’m Irish.” He said as if that explained it all. “Buffy, if you’re wanted for murder too then…is Spike harbouring you?”

“No, he’s not.” Spike announced as he stepped into the room. “I got permission from the Council and H.U. to watch Buffy until she goes to trial. And its likely Buffy will be found innocent.”

Angel nodded. “Because of the circumstances.”

“Exactly.”

“You’ve hired the best lawyers?”

“No, Miss. Stubborn here insisted on taking on a rookie just because he was cute.” Spike rolled his eyes.

Buffy protested. “Hey! I don’t think he’s cute. It’s just, he was nice to me.”

“Oh, Buffy,” Angel tsked.

“Don’t ‘Oh, Buffy’ me. You two don’t need to patronise me,” she folded her arms across herself. “I think Norman is a great lawyer. Really. I feel very confident in his abilities.”

Angel arched an eyebrow, or tried to anyway. “Norman.”

Spike laughed a little, then glanced down at his watch. “We should be going; the guard will be back in a minute. I’ll let you two fall into each others arms.”

He gave a small wave and drifted out of the room, a small line of tension running through his shoulders that Buffy noticed. Since when had it been in Spike’s humour to joke about Buffy and Angel’s track record? She didn’t know and the look on her face must have been one of puzzlement because Angel sighed.

“He’s always been insecure,” was all he said.

Buffy frowned. “But he moved on. He got married, Angel.”

“I know, but moving on completely is a hard thing to do. I think both of us know that.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She reached out to touch him but her hand dropped before it made contact. “I meant it. About getting you out.”

He smiled. “I know you did. But worry about yourself first, Buffy.”

“I’ll come back again. To visit.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Angel turned to look at the barred window. “I think it’ll make it harder to be in here.”

“When has anything between us ever been easy?” She asked.

He turned back, the light from the sun dancing on his face. “I’m glad you’re alive, Buffy.”

“And I’m glad you’re alive, Angel.”

Buffy smiled and managed to hold it as she turned and walked out of the door, the guard closing it behind her. It was only then that her face crumbled. She leaned her back against the wall taking a moment to compose herself. A pair of shoes appeared in her line of vision.

“You alright?” Spike asked, voice low.

“Let’s go,” she said.

He nodded and they left.

Buffy followed Spike across the brightly lit courtyard. He had a blanket thrown over his head and no one seemed the least bit interested. The vampire wandered over to the shade one of the large buildings provided and peaked out from underneath that blanket. Buffy stayed in the light just to prove that she could.

The large courtyard was actually more of a town square she realised, and she had seen it before. In her vision. This was where Giles had stood and made his speech. Three large buildings stood on each side of the square, the one in front had a large symbol across it – a partially eclipsed sun. H.U’s Headquarters. It had to be.

People bustled through the large open space, rushing to or from work, or wherever else people always had to be. There were no pigeons around scavenging for food, which Buffy found odd.

“Why didn’t you try and get him out?” She asked finally, unable to withhold the question any longer.

Spike sighed deeply. “There was no way, Buffy. He had no case for bail…he had no case period. He confessed to everything and showed no remorse.”

Buffy shook her head. “Not what I meant. Why didn’t you break him out?”

“You say that like its easy,”

“Because it is.”

Spike gritted his teeth. “No, it’s not. Not when you have responsibilities.”

“What about your responsibility to Angel?”

“I had a wife and child to think about,” he growled, eyes glaring. “I wasn’t about to go on the run. Angel knew that, he never even asked me to.”

Buffy scowled, looking away from him. “So you let him rot in there. He’s finally human and now his life is nothing. He’s locked up and alone. Do you even visit him? Does any –”

“Every week.”

That surprised her enough that she couldn’t remember what she was going to say.

Spike shifted the blanket over his head, still somehow looking dignified. “Don’t judge me, Buffy. Don’t judge me because I didn’t risk everything to help a man who did nothing but fuck with me for most of my life.”

“That was Angelus –”

“They’re the same person!” He spat, voice rising. “They’ve always been the same person. I know you don’t want to believe that and he doesn’t want to either, but that doesn’t stop it being true. He’s different now, that I know, and yeah, we get along for the most part. We’ve worked together, fought together, but there’s still a long way to go before I’d call him a friend. And I’d never endanger Mya’s safety for him. Never.”

Buffy bit down on her lip to silence herself. She didn’t know what she was going to say but whatever it was she knew she didn’t have the right. Spike’s first priority was his daughter, she should have guessed that, but it still all felt too out of place to her.

When she did speak again her voice was hushed. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He veered out of the shadows, pulling the blanket up higher.

Spike’s car was parked in one of the bays just ahead and they made their way slowly over to it. Out of the corner of her eye Buffy caught movement and turned to look in that direction. What she saw took a moment for her brain to decipher but when it did her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open slightly.

Propped up against a wall of a building that faced the square, still entirely in view of everyone, were a couple. A couple who seemed to be having sex.

Buffy grabbed Spike’s arm and yanked him over to her, making him cry out as the blanket slipped and he nearly got singed. She apologised quickly, eyes still rooted to the couple, and pointed at them.

Spike pulled his arm away from her, adjusting the blanket and looking thoroughly annoyed with her. “Yeah? What? You know ‘em?”

“Spike! They’re…they’re having sex!” She spluttered quietly, aghast.

“Oh, horror of horrors,” he drawled, starting back towards the car. “Not sex! How very unnatural and naughty.”

She skipped after him, continually glancing back. “They’re in the middle of the freaking square!”

Spike turned to her and his lips parted. “Oh, yeah. Forgot about that. Sex is a lot more open, pardon the pun, these days.”

“No shit,” she gaped, leaning against the car and staring at them. “So everyone just goes around doing…that…here?”

Spike laughed and opened the door, sliding into the relative shelter of the car, door open. “Not always here. Sometimes the park, or the cinema. Although that pisses people off no end – all the grunting during the film.”

“It’s only been thirty years and the world has gone mad!”

“Mad,” Spike rolled his eyes. “It’s not that different. Even back then sex was everywhere; it was always building to this. And who cares? Not hurting anybody. Of course, takes the thrill out of public sex but…”

Buffy grimaced. “It’s kind of gross.”

“That’s why you can’t tear yourself away?”

“Uh, I so can,” She turned away, but it was clear she wanted to turn back. “See. Me. Not looking. Still think it’s gross”

Spike smiled. “Don’t act all high and mighty, love. It’s not like you haven’t tried your hand at the public shag.”

Buffy opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her face instantly flushed and she turned away from him, only really succeeding in turning back to the rampant couple. Muttering for Spike to shut up she got into the car and fastened the weird seatbelt. He laughed and closed his door, starting the car up.

It was the first time they’d really brought up their past with each other and Buffy wasn’t sure if that meant it was okay to talk about them, about how it had been between them. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to bring it up. Maybe it was best left in the past. Even if it still felt like the recent past to her.

“So,” Spike said, pulling out of the bay and turning onto the road. “You goin’ to visit Angel? Sure he’d prefer your visits than mine. ‘Specially since I’m thrashing him at chess.”

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “Chess?”

“The game of true intellectuals. Hence my winning.”

“Maybe we should both go,” she suggested. “Keep his spirits up.”

Spike snorted. “Or not. I don’t fancy sitting in on that awkwardness.”

“It wouldn’t be awkward.”

“Oh, of course not,” he accelerated, swerving around another car. “You two making google eyes at each other while I watch on – happy to blend into the wallpaper.”

Buffy sighed. “I really don’t see that happening. There’d be no google eyes. And if there were it’d be a ménage a google.”

Spike laughed and turned a corner, the tension in his shoulder almost non-existent. The laughter lines creased around his eyes. Buffy felt the peculiar need to reach out and touch those lines. So she did. She reached out and traced her fingertips along his face. Spike jerked the wheel unexpectedly and the car veered through traffic madly, causing a cacophony of car horns to blare at them. The brakes screeched and they came to a halt at the side of the road. Buffy’s eyebrows were raised as Spike turned to look at her.

He cleared his throat and smoothed his hair. “Well, let’s…get home.”

Spike turned back onto the road without another word and Buffy settled herself into the chair, looking out of the window. That had obviously been a monumentally bad idea. It wasn’t the right time for touching yet. She wondered, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye, if it ever would be the right time.

The pulled up in front of his house and went through the motions of getting out of the car and acting like nothing had happened. Buffy followed him into the house, stretching. It felt like it had been a long day, but in reality only a few hours had passed since she’d awoken.
Spike tossed his keys down and threw the blanket off his shoulders. Loud pop music could be heard drifting from Mya’s room. Spike made a face and walked up to his answering machine, pressing a button.

Buffy turned, shocked, as she heard the voice that rang clear through the speaker.

“Spike? Spike are you there? Pick up the phone!...argh. Fine. I got a message, from Sunnydale. From the police. They said they had Buffy. This can’t be right? I mean…I phoned them and they said you took her! I’m coming over there right now. You’ve got some explaining to do, mister!”

There was a loud click and then Willow’s voice was gone.

Spike turned and looked at Buffy. “Well…she’ll be here in about half an hour then.”

“But…” Buffy trailed off, still dealing with hearing her friend’s voice. “Doesn’t she…the police said something about a Willow Rosenberg living in Montana…is that…?”

“That’s the one.” Spike sighed slumping down into the couch. “Plane travel is a lot faster these days.”

Suddenly a loud erratic knocking came from the front door.

Buffy’s eyes widened as she irrationally panicked, looking to the vampire in the chair for help. He sat upright.

“Guess she left that message a while ago, then…”

Buffy gaped because she didn’t know what else to do. She took a step towards Spike who stood slowly, as if tired, as if weary from the day’s events. He looked at her, perplexed. Most likely he didn’t understand why she was quite so scared to come face to face with Willow. Buffy wasn’t scared of Willow, not exactly. She was just scared to see what had become of her best friend, of how much she had changed.

“Buffy,” Spike murmured, voice soothing as he came to stand in front of her. He surprised her by taking her arm. “It’s just Willow. She’s still Willow.”

Buffy looked down at his hand on her arm. “She’ll be different.”

“We all are,” he slid his palm down over her hand, taking it. “But we still feel the same about you. Come on.”

The Slayer dragged her heels for only a moment before allowing him to pull her towards the door. She gripped his hand tightly, a zigzag of cowardice running through her, before dissipating. It was Willow and she was not the stuff of nightmares.

Spike cleared his throat and spoke loudly, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, you secretive vampire guy!” Willow’s voice crowed from the other side of the door.

Buffy was at least partly relieved that she sounded like the Willow she knew and loved.
He smiled in amusement before unlocking the door and opening it slowly to reveal the witch. The first thing that struck Buffy was the red of Willow’s hair, the Slayer had half expected to see some wizened old woman but then she realised her mistake. Thirty years had passed and that meant Willow was in her early fifties. Hardly over the hill. The woman who stood before her, agape, was still very clearly Willow – she looked essentially the same as she always had, except she held herself more confidently and there was a look behind her eyes that said she had lived. Also, there were some wrinkles.

Willow’s hair was tied up in a braid that trailed down her back and she wore a light summer dress and flip flops, sunglasses perched atop her head and large bag slung over her shoulder.

It was only when Spike cleared his throat loudly that both women blinked, realising that neither of them had said anything. The redhead shifted on her feet and opened and closed her mouth, unsure.

Buffy said the only thing she could think of. “Hi Willow.”

“Hello Buffy,” Willow replied, her voice hesitating around the name. As if it was a name long forgotten.

“No one goin’ to say hello to me?” Spike smiled wryly.

Willow’s eyes turned to him reluctantly, then her face grew annoyed. She smacked him hard on the arm.

“Ow!” He yelped, holding the arm. “That is not how to say hello to old friends!”

She dropped her heavy bag on the floor and gave him her ‘stern’ face. Just seeing it made Buffy want to smile. She was still Willow. It was such a relief.

“Buffy comes back from the dead and you don’t tell me!” Willow was indignant.

Spike gave her a look and shrugged with one shoulder. “She came back from the dead before and you didn’t tell me.”

Oh, touché. Buffy watched them squabble over her with a strange sense of detachment. She heard the slamming of a car door and the sound of feet on gravel. The Slayer turned her gaze over Willow’s shoulder to the man approaching. His head was ducked down to shield from the sun’s rays, he wore sunglasses and his hair was long and wavy around his ears. He wore faded jeans, boots, and a pinstripe shirt - untucked, slightly creased, sleeves folded halfway up his forearms. It was only when he looked up that Buffy saw the stubble dusting his chin and the thin strap of an eye patch peeked out from the sunglasses. Her lungs seized for a moment. Xander.

He came to an abrupt halt several steps behind Willow, his lips parted and he whispered something she couldn’t hear. The sunglasses made it near impossible to decipher his reaction but she guessed it was one of disbelief.

Willow turned around and Spike looked up at the newcomer. Xander wavered where he stood as if not in control of his body.

“Buffy…” he uttered, then as if a switch had been flipped, he bounded up the path towards them, pushing past Willow and scooping the Slayer up in his arms. “Buffy! You’re…here. God. You’re here!”

Buffy hesitated a moment before wrapping her arms around Xander. He felt solid, built, safe. He felt like Xander. His cologne was fresh and masculine and all very grown up. Which, she guessed, he was now. Grown up. His own man. He pulled away to look at her face, removing the sunglasses from his face. She could see, now that she was close, the crinkles by the sides of his eyes, the smile lines around his face. Just like Willow’s.

Buffy look at the two of them in turn.

Willow smiled. “I guess I should have done that. It was just…I thought the police had made a mistake and now you’re here and I…I don’t know what to say. Me. The rambler. Without anything to say. And yet, now I can see that I am rambling again. I’ll stop.”

“Please don’t,” Buffy smiled, a warm feeling seeping over her.

“What happened? How come you’re here?” Xander asked, hands still holding on to her arms. “How is it possible?”

She paused. “It’s…a long story. You should probably come in.”

The Slayer stepped back to make room for them to come in, Spike scooped up Willow’s bag and disappeared out of the room leaving the three friends standing in the living room in a triangle, silent.

“So, this story…” Xander’s eyebrows rose.

Buffy shook her head. “I can tell it later. I just want to look at you.”

“Would you like me to do a twirl?” He asked, corner of his lip quirking upwards.

“That would be good,” she grinned. “Been working out, Xand?”

His smile widened. “Way to flatter an old man, Buff.”

“You’re not old. You’re rockin’ the maturity.”

Willow tilted her head. “And you’re…not. How come? It’s totally unfair.”

Buffy looked down at herself. “Portal.”

“Hell dimension?” Willow asked, brow creased with worry.

“Hellish, yeah,” Buffy shrugged. “But not hell. It felt to me like I was only gone a couple of hours.”

Xander let out a breath. “Coming back to this…jeez.”

Spike stepped into the room and they turned at his entrance. He paused only briefly before walking slowly towards them, confident, his eyes sweeping over Buffy and Willow and resting on Xander.

“Harris,” he said.

Xander tucked his hands in his pockets. “Spike.”

It was all very manly.

“Bit of an old school reunion, eh,” the vampire noted. “’Spect you lot have a bit to talk about. I’ll stay out of your way.”

“No,” Buffy said, catching his wrist as he made to leave. “It’s your way too, you don’t have to stay out of it.”

Spike met her eyes, confused, then his gaze ticked to Xander and Willow as if to say your friends are watching. Like it mattered. Like it mattered if she touched his arm in front of them. It didn’t matter to her now. It was so small in the grand scheme of things.

She let go of his wrist but held his gaze. “Stay, please?”

“Yeah, Spike, stay.” Xander stepped up. “So I can kick your ass for not telling us Buffy was back.”

Spike snorted. “I’d like to see you try, old man.”

“Stop it,” Buffy demanded. “No one will be kicking any ass. I wasn’t ready to see you guys. I was dealing with…everything. Thirty years. Spike having a kid. Giles and Dawn…”

Willow’s bottom lip wobbled. “Buffy –”

“It’s been hard,” she acknowledged. “And it’s going to get worse. So, I guess now’s the time to tell me, guys. What big revelations do you have to make?”

“…I’m married…” Willow offered.

“Me too,” Xander reported.

Buffy waited a few moments. “Is that it?”

Xander chuckled. “We’ve always been the dull ones.”

“Hey, I’m a super powerful witch,” Willow protested. “A dull super powerful witch.”

“Work in construction, assistant manager,” Xander shrugged. “Own my own house in England. Live with Sarah, my wife. Got a dog. Oh, and a hamster.”

Willow’s turn came. “I live in Montana. Very Brokeback Mountain, I know.”

“Huh?” Buffy questioned.

“Oh, right. Never mind,” she laughed. “Anyway, I live there with my wife. Her name is Connie.”

Buffy looked at the light in her friend’s eyes. “At least the future got something right.”

Willow smiled and moved towards the Slayer, engulfing her in a hug which Buffy gratefully returned. It wasn’t long before Xander ambled in and they did the whole group hug thing. And it felt good. It felt right.

Spike moved around behind her and walked over to sit on the couch. Buffy walked over and sat next to him and Willow and Xander took that as a sign to sit in the armchair opposite, Willow in the seat, Xander on the arm. They all sat in silence, unsure of what was to come next.

Spike’s hand twitched next to the remote. “…Passions is on in five…”

Spike did the dishes because he didn’t know what else to do. It kept him occupied, kept him away from interfering because no matter what Buffy said this was a time for her and her friends. The three of them sat out on the porch, at the table, talking as the darkness descended upon New Sunnydale. They’d been talking for hours with no sign of stopping. He could hear them through the open sliding French doors. Buffy had filled them in on her spot of bother and Willow and Xander had been outraged and sympathetic. They’d laughed, they’d cried, they’d sat in silence remembering old – or not so old in Buffy’s mind – times.

Mya had joined them now. She was being chased around the lawn by Harris as they played a game of one-on-one football. She’d always gotten on well with Willow and very well with Xander. Not that the pair of them had bothered to visit much. They’d met on a few occasions over the years, friendly enough, and Spike didn’t expect nor want more. They had always been Buffy’s friends, not his.

Spike could hear the chink of glasses, the cicadas in the distance, and the sound of Mya’s radio all drifting in from outside. And he was apart from it all. On the inside looking out. He blinked, annoyed with himself, he had dishes to do. He set upon the task with renewed determination. Until he heard his name.

“So, Spike’s your handler, huh?” Willow asked voice low and curious.

There was a pause before Buffy spoke. “I guess so. He’s in charge of making sure I don’t go all Harrison Ford.”

“It must be strange.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“I meant for him,” Willow responded.

Buffy said nothing as though not sure what she should say. Spike didn’t blame her. It confused the fuck out of him. He cleared his throat and set to work drying the dishes with the towel.

Willow spoke again. “He’s a good man now.”

Spike stopped, fingers wrapped around a plate; face the very picture of controlled surprise. Out of all of the Scoobies he supposed Willow was the one who didn’t loathe him quite so much, which was strange considering he’d tried to kill her the most. To know that she thought that about him made him feel…well, he didn’t know how it made him feel. Just that it made him feel something.

Of course, it was the Slayer who went on to shock him further.

“He always was,” Buffy breathed softly, voice carried to him on the breeze.

Spike turned to look at the open doorway. They were out of sight and all he was greeted with was the dark night sky, seemingly a void as big as a chasm. He took a step towards it.

“Oh yeah, he was real good when he was ripping out people’s throats,” Xander stomped up onto the porch, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Xander!” Willow snapped.

“I’m…going to go check on dad,” Mya said, voice small.

Spike’s jaw tightened, fists clenching.

“Mya, I didn’t mean…” Xander trailed off, sounding genuinely sorry.

The vampire turned his back a fraction of a second before Mya came in through the door. He heard her slide the door shut, sealing off the noise from outside. Spike closed his eyes, forehead creased. Mya knew about his past, of course. She knew everything about a vampire’s nature. But they didn’t talk about it. They never went into details about what he’d done and to whom. It was something they kept tucked away. Tried for normalcy as best they could.

She came up behind him quietly and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. Spike could feel her heart beating against his back. His daughter. His Mya. She loved him and he wasn’t even sure why but he was more glad for it then he could have expressed.

“Can we kick them out?” she asked.

Spike laughed.

+ + +

“I can’t believe you said that with Mya standing right there,” Willow glared at Xander, shaking her head in mild disgust.

He held his hands up, plopping into the vacant chair around the table. “I know, okay? I lack a brain. It just…sort of came out.”

Buffy sat opposite him and couldn’t think of a thing to say. She wanted to tell him off. To be mad. And, she was. She was mad but she was also sad for Xander, because even after thirty years he still wanted to hurt Spike. He still hadn’t learnt that Spike was about the best ally they’d ever had and that, yeah, he’d done bad things, but he’d also done good things. Great things. Buffy didn’t doubt that given another thirty years Spike would go on to do more. He had the capacity to be the real thing. A true hero. Way, way better than her.

Xander laid his hands palm down on the small table. “It just pisses me off that vampires get it so easy. I mean, they’re evil. We all know this.”

“Spike isn’t evil.” Buffy said, lifting her eyes to lock onto his.

“He’s not exactly a saint either, Buffy,” Xander leaned back, chair creaking. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s helped out. He has. And, yeah, he hasn’t sucked neck for a lotta years but there’s something there. Underneath the surface. Like he could just go at any minute, you know?”

The Slayer’s eyes darkened. “No. I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Forget it,” he said quickly, looking away.

“No, Xander, I really want to know.” She leant forward on the table. “Give me your insight.”

He nodded slowly, then shrugged. “Fine. It’s the same with every vampire. It’s their nature to kill. Spike was one of the worst. It’s gotta be there all the time. That want. How do we know one day he isn’t just going to revert back to William the Bloody?”

Buffy felt a deep anger rise in her. “I kill. I kill most nights. So, how do we know I wouldn’t just reach across this table and snap your neck?”

Xander’s mouth opened and he blinked, stunned.

Willow shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. “Buffy! God, what is wrong with you two?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Buffy sank back into the chair, face impassive. “You can no-more know what a human might do one day, than you can Spike.”

He pointed a finger at her. “So you agree with the law, then? Vampires are the same as humans?”

“I never said that,” she said easily. “I’m not talking about vampires plural. I’m talking about vampire. One.”

Xander snorted. “Doesn’t that make you a hypocrite?”

“Oh sweet Gaia…” Willow muttered to herself.

“What’s so special about Spike?” Xander questioned, pissed off.

“I know Spike. I know I can trust him. He’s earned that trust from us all.” Buffy announced.

He shook his head, annoyed. “Not me.”

“Xander, what about your eye?”

Buffy looked at Willow, intrigued. She hadn’t mentioned it before. Xander’s eye patch. She hadn’t wanted to bring up what was probably a sore point but it had surprised her upon first seeing it. Just in the grand scheme of surprises in the past few days it hadn’t rated quite as high as it might have. Xander had lost an eye and she felt guilty for not taking the time to ask him about it, not taking the time to barely even notice it. What kind of friend did that make her?

“What about it,” Xander grunted, shifting uncomfortably.

Willow looked at him pointedly. “Without Spike you’d have lost them both.”

“How…did that happen?” Buffy asked softly.

Xander looked at her and the look was one that made him look suddenly old and tired. “Caleb. A psycho friend of The First.”

“I’m sorry, Xander,” Buffy told him, reaching over to place her hand on top of his.

“For what? Wasn’t your fault.”

“For not being there.”

He shook his head; a falsely brave smile curved his lips. “Also not your fault.”

“It wasn’t Spike’s fault either,” she assured him. “And I want you both to understand that. He told me about the exchange.”

Willow and Xander looked at one another but neither of them said anything. It was clear to Buffy that they still blamed Spike for her disappearance and that they probably always would. It would do no good to remind them that they too had both made mistakes, serious ones, and been forgiven. They would never forgive.

Willow sipped her drink. “Buffy, I like Spike…sometimes. It surprises me, but I do. And I think he’s a great father to Mya and he’s good at his job and he fights on our side. Which is also good. So, that’s what I have to say.”

“Thanks, Will.”

“If you need somewhere to stay, Willow’s place is always open,” Xander offered glibly.
Buffy shook her head. “Can’t. Gotta stay with my handler.”

“It’s the handling part I’m worried about.” He grumbled.

She rolled her eyes. “Xander, I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself. Besides, he got married. I think it’s safe to say Spike isn’t interested in handling me in that way.”

“Once you go Buff, you don’t go back.” He pointed at her then paused. “I don’t mean buff in the naked sense.”

“Thanks for the clarification, Xander,” Willow smiled.

The Slayer looked over at the doors that led back into the house. “In any case, I like it here. It’s peaceful. And Mya’s great. It’s…a good place for me right now. ’Sides, kinda hoping Spike can get me off this murder charge.”

Willow nodded and Xander sighed slightly, looking off into the distance forlorn. Buffy sipped her drink and tried to search for something, anything, upbeat to say. There was nothing to say. So they sat.

A minute or so later the screen door slid open and Spike stepped out onto the porch, the light from the house flooding around behind him and shrouding him in shadow. She could barely make out the features of his face. In his hand he clutched a paper.

“Hate to interrupt but I just got a fax,” Spike declared. “We’ve been summoned to meet with the Watcher’s Council tomorrow.”

Buffy gave him a look of severe scepticism that made him almost laugh. They stood in the lobby of a small office complex. Wandering over to the unattended front desk they saw a small sign that read ‘Watcher’s Council 1000 B.C – Present Day. Please Ring Bell for Assistance.’ This time Buffy turned to glare at him, sure he was playing a practical joke.

“This is the Council Headquarters?”

Spike smiled and gestured to the bell. “Find out.”

She paused, debating, and then pressed the bell quickly. Buffy took a step back and looked around worriedly. Spike’s smile widened. He hadn’t smiled so much in the past few years and all it took was the return of the Slayer to get him grinning. All it took. Like it was such a small thing. It wasn’t, it was a large, vital thing. Maybe everything. Or maybe he was just a sentimental tosser.

He cleared his throat and leaned against the desk, watching her. She had dressed in jeans, trainers, and a white T-shirt – items hastily borrowed from Willow’s wardrobe. Spike vowed to take her shopping properly. She’d always liked shopping, he remembered. Her hair was tied up tightly in a ponytail and wisps of it fell around her face, blowing in the air-conditioned office.

Buffy turned unexpectedly and caught him looking. She smiled nervously. He returned the nervy smile and quickly averted his eyes, hands tapping against the desk in embarrassment.

“Where’s my assistance? I need assistance!” Buffy complained.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Americans. No bloody patience.” He pressed the bell again just to placate her.

She folded her arms and leant her back against the desk, looking at him sullenly. He beamed at her. The Slayer rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that flitted across her glossed lips.

Spike leant towards her and whispered conspiratorially. “Where’s your hotshot lawyer then, Summers? He’s supposed to be here.”

“Norman is probably running late,” she replied not rising to the bait. “I’m sure he’ll make it. He’s never steered me wrong so far.”

He bit back a laugh at that and settled for smirking. The Slayer flicked a v sign at him and it was glorious. He’d missed the banter a lot, he realised. Spike didn’t have many friends who he was so at ease with. A lot of the time he was working or spending time with Mya and that didn’t leave much time for a social life. That and the fact that he was a vampire put great limitations on his free time to be hip and meet new people. He snorted at the very idea.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said suddenly, stepping up closer to him.

He glanced at her, confused. “For what?”

“Xander. For what he said.”

Spike sighed and shifted awkwardly. “He’s protective of you.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“No,” he nodded and looked away. “But I understand it. I even agree with some of it. I have a past. A bad one. I can’t – I won’t – forget it. If I do, I might go back to that.”

She shook her head rapidly. “Not. Gonna. Happen.”

“You trust me.”

“Of course,” Buffy smiled.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he said, eyes downcast. “All I ever did was make things hard on you. Hurt you.”

She shrugged easily. “More than mutual. And I like to think we got past that before I stepped into The Land Before Time.”

“There were cartoon dinosaurs there?”

“Well, no,” Buffy’s brow creased then she saw his amused look. “Hey, don’t be glib.”

Spike held his hands up. “Never again. Anyway, you don’t need to apologise for Harris. He’s a wanker and I know that. But he’s not all bad.”

She tilted her head and her eyes roved over his face in a thrillingly intimate way before she spoke. “You still manage to surprise me, thirty years on.”

“More than mutual,” he arched an eyebrow. “Long may it continue.”

It was at that moment that a woman shuffled towards them in a demure-looking trouser suit, brown hair falling around her shoulders and heels clacking on the linoleum floor. She looked put out, annoyed, and generally huffy. Spike liked that in a woman. And Valerie was a nice enough sort once she had a couple of glasses of wine in her.

She sighed as she came to a halt in front of them. “Spike, what now?”

“That’s not a nice tone to take, Val,” he stood up straight. “And anyway I’ve been summoned. So there.”

Valeria huffed and turned to look at his companion. “And you are?”

“Buffy Summers, murderer at large,” she scowled.

“Cool,” Valerie turned and started off. “Follow me.”

Buffy frowned and looked at him. “Watchers say ‘cool’ now?”

“Welcome to the world of tomorrow,” Spike drawled.

Spike followed Valerie and Buffy stuck by his side, their footfalls loud in the empty lobby. They were led through some heavy double doors and to an elevator which the Watcher opened using a key card. They all piled in and the button was pressed for the 4th floor. Buffy didn’t know it but the whole office complex didn’t belong to the Watchers. Only the 4th floor.

Spike stood at the back of the elevator, the two women standing in front of him. The view this afforded him was more than welcome. Valerie glanced over her shoulder and gave him a look that told him she knew exactly what he was doing. Spike feigned innocence.

The elevator doors slid open and the office before them was revealed. Desks in neat little rows, pristine white floors and walls. A potted plant in the corner. Identical looking people on phones, tapping away at their computers. The monotony of it all made him want to fall asleep. Valerie walked down the centre of the room towards a door. The door to the head honcho’s office. Spike knew it very well.

He fell into line with Buffy and they walked along together at a casual pace.

“Dun dun dun dun…” she murmured her rendition of the funeral procession.

Spike hesitated then reached over and touched her arm briefly, as if it would help ease her nerves. She looked at him and he faced forward. Buffy opened her mouth as if to say something but by that time they had reached the door and Valerie had knocked and they were going in.

The boy behind the desk looked up at them, face blank. He looked no more than sixteen years old, with spiky brown hair and wide brown eyes, skin bright and clear with youth – not one to suffer from acne, this teen – his sideburns were rebelliously long and he wore a hoop earring in on ear. His clothes were simple too. Grey T-shirt and Spike was guessing jeans, as was his usual style. Scruffy white trainers were peaking out from under the desk.

Buffy looked around the room, confused, then said: “I’m confused.”

“Well, you are blonde,” the kid drawled in an accent similar to Spike’s, standing.

“Uh, hey!” She folded her arms. “I’ve killed for less. Okay, maybe not killed. But severely maimed.”

Spike nudged her with his elbow and murmured. “Not helping your cause here, love.”

“The kid is rude,” she retorted.

“The kid is your boss,” the boy said, coming around the desk. “Cain Travers.”

Buffy’s face paled. “Any relation to Quentin Travers?”

“He was my grandfather.”

She cleared her throat. “Oops?”

Cain walked over to stand in front of them, eyeing her. “Buffy Summers.”

The Slayer gave an adorable little wave. “Hi.”

“Not bad,” he nodded then turned his gaze to Spike. “Not too bad at all, Spike. Don’t know if she’d made me seek out a soul, but I wouldn’t say no to a bit of fun.”

Buffy looked comically outraged. “Hey!”

“Hello Cain,” Spike smiled. “Still a wanker of epic proportions, I see.”

Cain shrugged easily. “Takes one to know one, mate.”

“Can you guys talk about masturbation at a more suitable time? Like, say, never?” Buffy requested.

“Hmmpf,” Cain snorted, folding his arms. “So, let me see if I’ve got the story here straight. You were the Slayer thirty years ago, and then you jumped into another dimension, and stepped out thirty years later and murdered a man. Correct?”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “He was a vampire.”

“Same thing,”

“Is that so?” Buffy asked, eyeing him. “Well, kid, hate to tell you this – but it’s your Council which was so dead set on training me – and countless other girls – to kill vampires. I guess that makes you technically responsible for those ‘murders’.”

Cain grinned broadly. “The Watcher’s Council is not legally responsible for any of the actions carried out by its operatives. You signed a contract agreeing to just that.”

“I…I did not!”

Cain arched an eyebrow. “You did. I’ve checked the archives. The contract also mentioned the possibility of a company car if you served us for twenty years.”

Buffy gaped. “Uh…”

“Oh, Buffy,” Spike looked at her. “You didn’t?”

She threw her hands up. “Hey, I was fifteen! I wanted a car! Dammit. You know, technically I’ve been working for you guys longer than twenty years…”

“Nope, there’s a time dimension clause,” the leader of the Council informed her gleefully.

“Crap.”

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes heavenwards. “Well, that’s that loophole buggered then.”

“As if you were ever going to pin this on us,” Cain sneered walking back over to his desk and sitting on it. “But I’m sure you’ll have no trouble getting out of this one.”

Spike glared at the man. “You’re not goin’ to help her at all?”

“Well,” he paused, thinking. “From what I’ve read she’s a decent enough fighter. Bit rebellious. Not easily controlled. I’m not sure we want to put that kind of image out there, let alone be seen to condoning her murderous ways.”

Spike clenched his fists. “Bastard –”

“Let me finish, William,” Cain held a hand up. “Nevertheless, she is a Slayer. She is ours. And we don’t like to lose our property. At least not unless we want it lost.”

Buffy pointed at him. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed her. “In any case, I’ll have to give it a think over. I’ll call you in a couple of days with my decision. In the mean time you can piss off.”

The Slayer opened her mouth to spit back a diatribe but Spike gave her a warning look and she stopped herself, grudgingly. It was as they were turning to leave that the door to the office flew open and Norman ploughed in looking thoroughly windswept.

Spike sighed as he apologised for his lateness, running a hand over his fine brown hair, green eyes flicking from Buffy to Spike to Cain and then back. He shook the Slayer’s hand and greeted her politely, then did the same to Spike. The vampire had to admit the kid had good manners. Apart from the whole being late thing.

Norman loped over to Cain and offered him his hand. The boy looked at the hand blankly.

Norman cleared his throat and smiled nervously. “So, what did I miss?”

Spike rolled his eyes.

“Nothing much,” Buffy shrugged. “’Cept I’m screwed.”

The lawyer looked instantly concerned. “No, Miss…Buffy, you’re not. Have some faith.”

“Yeah, B,” came a voice from behind them. “You can never have too much Faith.”

Faith was slouched against the doorframe making bad posture look good. Buffy had the distinct impression that she would make a very appealing silhouette. Not that she spent a lot of time thinking about Faith’s silhouette, but maybe more than she should. As it was the Slayer in front of her wasn’t shrouded in shadow but was rather more bathed in sunlight from the office’s window. The rays glinted off her wavy dark hair.

Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt her look was a lot more understated than it had been the last time Buffy had seen her. Her arms were toned with sinewy muscle, just enough for it to look killer. Buffy had always had ridiculous beanpole arms that she found very unbecoming. Buffy looked down and saw that Faith wore flip-flops on her feet and what looked like an anklet. Buffy looked back up to meet the Slayer’s eyes, an eyebrow raised.

The most shocking thing wasn’t the flip flops, however, but rather the fact that Faith didn’t seem to have aged.

“Faith,” she said.

“Buffy,” was the reply.

The dark-haired woman straightened up and stepped into the room. She glided around Norman and Spike, acknowledged Cain with a glance, and then came to stand directly in front of Buffy. Her eyes ran over her a bit more intimately than Buffy thought she liked. Then Faith smiled and held a hand out to her. Buffy looked down at the hand, hesitated, and then took it.
Faith’s hand was cold and smooth and as they shook hands Buffy could feel that the other woman’s strength hadn’t waned at all with years gone by, in fact it may have grown.

“Aw, hell,” Faith pulled on her hand and wrenched her towards her. “C’mere, B.”

Buffy just about stopped herself from decking the brunette instinctively. When Faith drew her into a tight hug, slapping her on the back, her eyes widened considerably. She smelt of soap.

A moment later she’d stepped away grinning. “Heard you were back. Shoulda guessed I couldn’t get rid of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Buffy took a step back, awkwardly. “You’re still around after all these years. Thought you’d be vamp bait a long time ago.”

Faith tilted her head. “I was.”

“Huh?”

She laughed then and turned to Spike. “Told you! I told you she wouldn’t be able to tell. I’m good.”

Spike mumbled something to himself and then cleared his throat. “Nice to see you again too, Faith.”

“Spike,” she nodded, slugging him casually on the arm.

Buffy looked at then each in turn. “Wouldn’t be able to tell what? What’s going on?”

“Buffy,” Spike said carefully. “Faith is a vampire.”

Buffy went rigid suddenly, taking a step backwards away from the Slayer. The Slayer…vampire? The Vampire Vampire Slayer? The Vampire Slayer Vampire? She didn’t know and didn’t much care at that moment. All she knew was that Faith had been turned and it hurt. It hurt her to lose somewhere who, if not exactly a friend, had been on the right path to redemption.
Buffy turned away, trusting Spike to watch her back.

“Oh, cheer up, B.” Faith huffed. “It’s not bad. And chill, ’cos guess what? I’m…a vampire with a soul!” she said in a melodramatic voice.

Buffy’s head whipped around quickly. “What?”

“Yep, I’ve got a soul and fangs. Hey, I guess that makes me your type.” Faith smirked.

Spike arched an eyebrow. “Missing a certain other criteria she likes.”

Faith looked him over. “Sometimes a girl can get a hankering for something different.”

“Hey, do you mind not discussing my preferences right now?” Buffy demanded trying to collect her thoughts. “You’re a vampire.”

“…with a soul!” Faith added in her best Vincent Price voice again, then cleared her throat when she saw the look on Buffy’s face. “Yeah, I’m a vamp. Got bit one night on patrol, woke up and found myself chained to Spike’s bed. Not as fun as it sounds.”

Buffy turned her death glare on to Spike. “Oh really?”

“I found her and chained her up to stop her hurtin’ anyone,” Spike explained.

Faith folded her arms. “And then the bastard cursed me.”

“Cursed…like Angel’s curse?”

“The same one,” Faith nodded. “But I was never a good girl, even with a soul. So it didn’t stop me slugging him the moment he set me free.”

Spike shot her a look. “And nicking my car.”

“It’s the least you could do,” Faith replied.

Norman flounced up to stand in front of her blocking her view of Buffy as he said enthusiastically. “I’m Norman Wagner. You know Miss. Summers?”

“Hi Norm,” Faith looked him over, amused. “Yeah, I know her. We were the Chosen Two. Girlfriends.” She looked over at Buffy with that look that the other Slayer had always tried to not read too much into.

Cain waved a hand to attract attention from where he was sitting. “You know, this is really touching and everything, but will you all get out of my office?”

“Aww, Cainy not liking the world not revolving around him,” Faith pouted at the boy and blew him a kiss. “I’m about ready to blow this scene anyway.”

Buffy scowled and muttered to herself. “You’re always ready to blow something…”

Faith locked eyes with her and grinned before striding out of the room. Buffy cursed her new vampiric hearing abilities. She looked at Spike who shrugged and started for the door.

“Uh, Buffy?” Norman stood in the middle of the room looking very lost.

Buffy sighed. “Apparently I signed a contract that means the Council are all bastards. They won’t help me. Probably.”

Norman turned to Cain. “May I see this contract?”

“Oh, must you?” Cain griped.

“Yes, he must,” Buffy said sternly then looked at Norman. “Get to work, Norm. I’m proud of you. Go team Buffy! Etc.”

He looked flustered and Buffy gave him the thumbs up and then turned and fled the room to find Spike.

He was waiting just outside the door with Valerie who was giving him a lecture on ‘his Slayer friends’ traipsing mud all over the floor. Spike rolled his eyes and told her he’d see her around and then started off. Buffy jogged to catch up with him and resisted the strange urge to link arms. Faith was no where to be seen. So it was about that time.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Buffy berated.

Yes, it was Buffy shouts at Spike time.

“Because,” was all he said.

“Oh, well, great.” She groused and walked faster, jabbing her finger at the elevator button several times.

Spike came to stand beside her. “You have to find these things out in your own time, Buffy. If I told you everything in one go your head would probably explode.”

“Right, cos I’m stupid. I’m stupid Buffy.”

“No, because you’ve had a massive shock,” Spike said softly. “And there are more to come.”

“Like what?!” Buffy threw her hands up and stepped into the elevator. “What more could there be?”

Spike stepped in after her. “Like I said, you’ll find out in your own time.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t my own time. I’m never going to be in my own time ever again,” she sulked.

The elevator doors swished shut and the silence filled the small space as they moved down. Spike, as usual, was the first to crack and he started to whistle to break the lack of sound. She bumped him with her hip in her way of telling him to shut up. He didn’t.

“What was Faith doing here anyway?” Buffy asked sullenly.

Spike stopped whistling. “Handing in reports, I expect.”

“Reports?”

“Yeah, Slaying Reports,” He told her. “In some cases Slayers are still used to kill vampires. Vampires who have no intention of abiding by the laws. They get the order from the Council and H.U. – then they slay, and then they write up a report. Same goes for other demons.”

Buffy gaped a little. “There’s paperwork now?!”

Spike laughed a little. “’Fraid so.”

“Great,” Buffy groaned, rubbing her forehead. “Wait. Faith still works for the Council, even though she’s a vampire?” the doors to the elevators opened.

Spike nodded and they stepped out. “She’s a valuable asset to them. A vampire with Slayer strength? They weren’t going to let that one pass.”

“Oh, so Faith is ‘special’ now. Excellent,” she stomped through the lobby. “And I bet you two get on like a house on fire. What with chaining to the bed incidents and your…lack of scruples!”

Spike feigned shock. “I have plenty of scruples, thank you. And yeah, Faith’s alright.”

“Alright? She tried to kill me a bunch of times!”

“So did I and I’m alright too,” Spike pushed the door of the lobby open and motioned her through.

Buffy shoved past him. “She tried to seduce my boyfriends! She did seduce one!”

Spike paused. “Okay, I never did that.”

“Yep. First Angel, then Riley. And I bet she tried it with you too!”

Spike shook his head. “No, she never did. I feel almost insulted, actually.”

Buffy scowled at him and strode across the parking lot to his car. She had always sort of wondered what would happen if Spike and Faith ever met. They were so similar in so many ways. It was bound to have been interesting. She didn’t like that she had missed it. That Faith had known Spike longer than she had. It was so wrong on so many levels.

And speaking of…

“Fancy an adventure?” Faith asked, head stuck out of the driver’s side window of Spike’s car.

The vampire’s eyes widened. “Out. Get out of my car. Now.”

“Down boy,” she smirked, eyes twinkling. “I was thinking B and I could use some catch up time. Girls only.”

Buffy gave the woman a look. “What makes you think I’d go anywhere with you?”

“’Cos I’m going slaying. And you look about ready to pop.”

Buffy had to admit the idea of pummelling something’s face in did sound like a really good idea. Then again, slaying had got her in a hell of a mess recently. And the prospect of slaying with Faith again wasn’t on the top of her ‘Ten Thing Buffy Wants to Do’ list. Especially not a fanged Faith. Just as she was about to speak Spike beat her to it.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said.

Buffy looked at him, surprised. “It does?”

“Need to get some aggression out. And I’d rather it was on some bad guys then me.”

“You have changed,” Buffy said wryly.

Faith grinned. “Well, alright then. Get in, B. Let’s go find us some naughty demons.”

“Here. Take this.” Spike dug a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “It’s a slaying permit.”

Buffy looked at the card. “Could have done with this earlier.”

He shrugged and Buffy tucked the card in the pocket of her jeans. A little warily she walked around the car to the passenger door and slid in. Faith immediately revved the car loudly.

Spike managed to yell, “Bring her back in one piece!”

And then the dark-haired Slayer pressed down hard on the accelerator and they shot off at breakneck speed. Buffy’s eyes widened and she gripped the door handle hard. This suddenly seemed like a bad idea.

“Where are we going?” Buffy yelled above the blaring radio, whilst keeping her death grip on the door handle.

Faith glanced at her, a curve of a smile hinting at her lips. “The Labyrinth.”

“That place with David Bowie?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” Buffy mumbled. “What is this place and why are we going there?”

“Holding cell for all sorts of nasties. Well, more like a whole jail but whatever,” she shrugged. “Bad guys who are waiting on execution, caught by the cops, slayed by…well, us.”

“Why don’t the police just slay them? Since they’re so in the loop now.”

Faith smiled. “They don’t have the authority. Only a Slayer does. A visit to The Lab always cheers me right the hell up.”

Buffy sighed and looked out of the window. “You need a hobby, Faith.”

The town of New Sunnydale whizzed by looking all very normal, all very not thirty years in the future. The houses were no longer designed in a Spanish style, she noted, more modernised but nothing she would deem ‘futuristic’. Such a letdown.

Faith fiddled with the radio, berating Spike’s taste in music and Buffy found herself silently agreeing with her. Even after so many years he was stuck on those old British rock bands.

Finally Faith found a song that she deemed the perfect song for their outing. It was ‘Man, I Feel Like a Woman’. Buffy rolled her eyes when Faith cranked it up even louder and began to wail along with it. Faith a country fan? The undead thing was easier to believe.

“Come on, B!” She whooped. “Sing it!”

Buffy just gave her a look and she shrugged with one shoulder then began to bounce along to the beat, one hand on the steering wheel. Buffy feared for her own safety. Death by Shania.

Despite herself Buffy could feel her feet itching to move. She suppressed it and the song ended, Faith grinning cheerfully to herself.

“So how long you been rooming with The Saviour of Vampire Kind?” She asked, casual.

Buffy shrugged. “Couple of days.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Faith smirked. “Just like old times, huh?”

“What would you know about old times?” Buffy glared.

“Heard a few things, a lotta things actually,” she said. “I just had to know why Spike was suddenly such a broody Angel-a-like. So, I wasn’t too surprised when I was told you two had a thing.”

Buffy resisted the urge to stick a stake in her. “You say that as if you knew Spike before the soul.”

“Met him. Once.”

“He never said,” Buffy replied, almost growling.

Faith smiled. “I was shorter, blonder and a lot flatter up front at the time.”

“Ah, when you stole my body.” Buffy scowled. “Misty water-coloured memories.”

“…of the way we were.” Faith nodded.

Buffy shook her head in scorn but couldn’t help but wonder what had gone on between Faith and Spike on that first meeting. And on every meeting since then. She wasn’t sure she believed Spike’s assurance that Faith hadn’t thrown herself at him. So she asked.

“Did you try and jump him too?”

Faith answered matter-of-factly. “When I was you? Yeah, a little. He was in to it.”

Buffy folded her arms. “No. After.”

Faith turned and looked at her. “No. Dude was broken, you know? There’d been no point.”

The Slayer didn’t know what to say to that.

“So, are you and Spike making up for lost time or what?”

Buffy threw her hands up. “How is that your business, Faith?”

“So that’s a negative,” She took a sharp left. “Sucks to be you.”

“Whereas being an undead ho is so much better”

Faith laughed. “Glad you agree. We’re here.”

She screeched the car into a vacant parking bay as Buffy goggled at the building through the windscreen. Like a lot of things in this future Sunnydale, it didn’t look very impressive.

It just looked like another fairly large office complex, from the outside at least. Of course Buffy knew that not everything was what it seemed. So, as Faith climbed out of the car she followed suit but was on the ready for trouble.

The vampire stomped across the road in the bright sunlight, carefree. Buffy figured she had on some of the Vamp Sunscreen. But Spike had said that didn’t last longer than an hour and they had been out for at least thirty minutes. The Slayer hoped Faith knew what she was doing.

She caught her staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” Buffy snorted, looking away. “So, how exactly does this work?”

“We go in. We find the Slay of the Day, we get rowdy. Then we bail,” Faith shrugged easily. “’Course he’ll probably put up a fight. I damn well hope.”

They came to the entrance of the building and Faith opened the door but motioned her through with a courtly wave of her arm. Buffy eyed her suspiciously and slipped through the doors into the lobby. The dark-haired vampire stepped in behind her. There was a set blast doors in front of them. Heavy duty blast doors. And yet, Buffy could still hear the sound of an enormous roar.

She turned to Faith, wide-eyed. “Faith, what the hell do they keep here?”

“All sorts of things,” she grinned wickedly. “Big bads.”

“I thought we were here to slay a vampire…”

“We are,” she nodded and started towards the doors. “But, hey, if something else gets in our way…”

Faith placed her hand onto a scanner and the doors slid open.

+ + +

Spike looked at Norman steadily. “She was fifteen. That contract can’t have been legal.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Norman nodded. “Except for the fact it’s a contract of magic. The Council is something that was…apart from the laws that governed the world at the time Buffy signed it. The contract is binding because the fact that Buffy was a child at the time holds no weight in matters of magic. The Slayer’s power is rooted in magic, in demon energy. Being fifteen doesn’t matter. If it did, then Slayer’s wouldn’t have been called into their power at such a young age.”

Spike pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, it would hold up in court?”

“Yes,” Norman sighed, sipping the cold coffee.

Spike leaned back into the couch and shook his head. If the contract had been null and void then they could have at least pinned the murder charge on the Council, on the fact that Buffy was an instrument of The Council. Barely more than a puppet. She wouldn’t like the comparison but she’d grit her teeth and bear it if it got her off the charge.
The image of Angel as a puppet flittered through his mind for the barest second, nearly making him grin, before it was replaced by frustration again.

“So, what can we do?” Spike asked, watching the young lawyer. “How can she get away with this? Dozens of people saw her do it. They have the ashes. Before I knew it was Buffy…when I was sent down to be the H.U. rep on the case, I thought it was an open and shut case. There’s no way she’s getting away with this.”

Norman looked as worried as Spike felt. “All I can do is keep looking through the laws for a loophole. If The Council steps up to help her then she could still have a chance. If we can make them understand about Buffy coming from thirty years in the past then obviously she can’t be blamed for following the rules from back then…”

“But?”

“But then what’s to stop every loony saying they travelled forward in time and didn’t know the rules had changed?” Norman scribbled down a few notes on a piece of paper. “We’d have to get strong evidence that Buffy was trapped in that other dimension for thirty years.”

“And how do we do that? I mean, she hasn’t aged in thirty years, is that…?”

Norman shook his head. “Could be magic. Anti-aging spells. She does have a phenomenally powerful witch as a best friend. That’s how the courts would look at it.”

“So, again, I ask what can we do?”

“Well, if…if we can’t count on The Council’s backing –”

Spike snorted. “Which is more or less a given.”

“- then all we can do is damage control. If Buffy shows a modicum of remorse for killing him then she might have a chance at a lesser sentence.” Norman bit his lip.

“Lesser? What, a life in prison? Rotting away like Angel?” Spike threw his hands up in disgust. “She wouldn’t, you know. She wouldn’t show remorse. It was her job. It’s all she knows. Slaying vampires is in her blood.”

Norman paled. “Maybe not telling everybody that would be a good idea too.”

He stood up and paced the room. “What can I tell her?”

“That we’re doing all we can,” Norman said gently. “I think she’d understand. I mean, I, uh, I don’t know Buffy very well but she seems…I think she knows you’re doing all you can.”

Spike looked at him sharply. “And it’s not enough. It never is. I always let her down.”

Norman shook his head. “I don’t think she’d see it that way.”

Spike grunted and turned on his heel marching into the kitchen area to make himself a coffee. He slammed every cupboard door in a fit of infantile annoyance and felt much better having done it.

The noise did bring Mya out of her teenage slumbering coma and she padded into the kitchen bleary-eyed and in pyjamas.

“Having a tantrum again?” She yawned, gulping milk straight from the carton, when Spike only growled in response she spoke again. “Who’s the guy in our living room?”

Spike stirred his coffee viciously. “Buffy’s lawyer.”

“Oh,” Mya leaned her back against the counter. “I think I scared him. I don’t think he’s ever seen a girl in her pyjamas before.”

Spike tried to remain grumpy but chuckled a little at that. “Where are our wonderful guests?”

“Willow suggested they hole up in a motel,” Mya responded. “I guess she thought you didn’t want Xander around after his whole superiority diatribe last night.”

Spike nodded then frowned. “Mya, who the hell uses the word ‘diatribe’?”

“Me, obviously,”

“How did any child of mine turn out to be such a geek?”

Mya shrugged. “I guess I had to make up for your complete lack of brains.”

“Ah, right,” Spike nodded. “And in doing so you had to lose out on the style, charm and abs.”

She snorted. “The price I pay. Where is Buffy?”

“Out with Faith.”

Mya’s eyes widened. “Wow, okay. I thought you told me they didn’t exactly get on?”

“They don’t,” Spike sipped his coffee. “But they have more in common than they think. It might be a good idea for them to get together more often.”

Mya smirked. “Yeah, you would think that.”

Spike rolled his eyes and tried not to show that he’d been thinking exactly what she’d accused him of thinking. Okay, so he was a much more mature and responsible and suit-wearing Spike but he was still Spike.

Norman shuffled awkwardly into the kitchen pointedly not looking at Mya as he cleared his throat, fiddling with the handle of his briefcase. “I’m going to go back to the archives, see if I can find something. Anything. If you or Buffy needs to get in contact with me I’ve left my card on the coffee table.”

“Okay, cheers mate,” Spike nodded. “I appreciate what you’re doing for her.”

Norman inclined his head slightly and then turned and bolted out of the door. Spike shook his head and smiled. He really was a dopey git. But he was a dopey git with a heart of gold and Buffy had a soft spot for those sorts.

Mya nudged him with her elbow. “So how is the case going?”

“Not good,” Spike sighed. “Not good at all.”

Mya paused for a moment. “Well, if worst comes to worst you could always go on the lam. You and Buffy – the Bonnie and Clyde of the generation. It’d be a tale of two misfits just trying to make it in a world that wants nothing to do with them.”

Spike arched an eyebrow.

“Or, it could just be really hot,” Mya shrugged.

Spike looked up as Buffy trudged in through the door. So much for his hi-tech security. She looked exhausted, hair messy and clothes creased and dirty. Must have been a hard slay. For a moment Spike’s mind wandered to other possible explanations for the dishevelled Slayer’s appearance. Then he told his mind to shut up.

She padded into the living room and looked at him. He remained seated on the couch, bare feet up on the coffee table, arms thrown over the back of the chairs.

Then he spoke, “My car?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” she grumbled, slinging herself down into the armchair.

Spike smiled and turned back to the TV he was vaguely watching. “You get on alright? Looks like you had it rough.”

“Only with you,” Buffy said slyly.

He cleared his throat and shifted on the couch. “What was it? A vampire?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, trying to work the cricks out of her neck. “But there’s other stuff in there. A lot of other stuff. Big stuff. Insanely huge…stuff.”

“I’d make a remark about size mattering but I don’t want to be cliché,”

The Slayer snorted and they both turned their attention back to the TV. The TV was safe. Well, it was usually. There was that one time it got possessed with the ghost of a vengeful electrician…but Spike was getting off-track.
He still had to think up something to get Buffy off the charges. He was racking his brains and coming up with nothing. He thought maybe he ought to pay Angel a visit. He might be of some help.

Buffy scooted forward on the chair and leaned towards him. “I guess Norman didn’t find anything wrong with the contract?”

Spike sighed. “No. It’s foolproof.”

“Well, if there’s one thing The Council is good at its trapping people,” Buffy shrugged dejectedly. “Maybe I should ask Willow to open a portal in the time space continuum or something.”

Spike glared at her.

“I’m kidding!” She put her hands up, innocent. “When did you lose that little thing we like to call ‘a sense of humour’?”

“’Bout thirty years ago.”

She went quiet, then. Didn’t know what to say. And neither did he.

“Wow, cheery in here,” Mya suddenly appeared, gathering keys and a phone up and throwing them into a bag she had slung over her shoulder. “You guys should get a camera. It’s really a Kodak moment.”

Spike sat up. “Where you going?”

“Melissa’s. Staying over. Don’t miss me too much, party people.”

And with that she was gone.

Leaving the vampire and the vampire slayer suddenly very alone in the house. Their eyes met simultaneously and then both flicked away. Spike felt immensely stupid. She was Buffy, for Christ’s sake, not some girl he had a crush on. There were more serious matters at work here anyway.

“We haven’t found anything of help, yet,” Spike admitted, his voice sounded echoed to his ears.

Buffy seemed to accept that a little too easily. “You will.”

“And if we don’t?”

“If you don’t…” she paused then shrugged. “Then you don’t.”

Spike tilted his head. “You don’t seem too bothered.”

Buffy slumped back into the chair. “Spike, I’ve missed thirty years of my life. Two of the people I loved most in the whole world…they’re gone. Everything and everyone has changed. Being charged for murdering a vampire? Really doesn’t compare.”

“They’d lock you up, Buffy. They might even execute you.”

She smiled sadly. “Have to find me first.”

Spike growled lowly to himself. Angry and feeling useless. He stood up and walked to the patio doors, sliding them open he stood and watched the dark garden. The sun had set quite a while ago. Spike absently wondered where the time had gone. Faith’s sun block would have run out a long time ago, so they must have been in The Labyrinth a long time. No wonder Buffy looked so tired. And the first thing he’d asked about was his car. Spike shook his head in self disgust.

Suddenly she’d stepped up beside him, watching the darkness just like him. She leaned slumped against the door and took in a deep lungful of cold fresh air. That was the thing about night time. The air always seemed crisper, cleaner and newer. Like a clean slate.

“So. You. Me.” Buffy bumped him with her hip. “A house to ourselves. Mayhem, mayhem, mayhem. What will we get up to?”

Spike turned and looked at her. “I was thinkin’ of doing some hoovering.”

She laughed loudly. “Jesus, Spike, what happened to you?”

“What? If I don’t then the place gets dusty as hell,” he folded his arms defensively. “And then Mya gets ill. Or, well, she did. When she was little. Look, it’s a force of habit for me, alright?”

Buffy eyed him. “When the kids are away the vampire and Slayer will play.”

“Play what?” He asked cautiously.

“I don’t know, Parcheesi?” Buffy scoffed, backing into the house and pulling her hair free from the band. It tumbled around her shoulders and she smoothed it down self-consciously.

Spike scowled mockingly. “Don’t take that tone of voice with me, young lady.”

“That’s kind of kinky, even for you.” She noted, amused.

“What can I say? I’m a deviant,” Spike deadpanned, moving back into the house and around her into the kitchen. “Drink?”

“Many.” Buffy nodded.

Spike snorted, remembering times past. Slayer couldn’t handle her drink but she kept on trying. He shook a bottle of red wine at her and she pulled a face. Spike shelved the wine and went for the spirits. Brandishing a bottle of vodka the Slayer gave him the affirmative nod. He chuckled and grabbed a couple of glasses, walking back over to the living room area. Sitting down with a sigh he poured a measure into each of the glasses.

Buffy walked over, bypassed the glass and scooped up the bottle taking it with her as she sat opposite him. He laughed and held his modest tumbler up to her in a gesture of a toast.

“To my impending imprisonment!” Buffy announced cheerily.

Spike shook his head, looking at her. “To the lost and the found.”

Buffy looked back at him, perplexed, but raised her bottle admirably. She downed a large quantity of the bottle in one go and Spike had a feeling she’d regret it in the morning. Still, she was an adult. If she wanted to get utterly bug-shagging drunk then that was her decision. Besides, it was interesting to watch.

“I wish she was here,” Buffy said.

“Who?”

“Dawn.”

Spike paused for a few long moments. “Same here.”

“She…had a good life though?” Her voice sounded very small.

He nodded. “Had a degree. Good job. Boy who doted on her.”

Buffy laughed sadly. “Wow. She had it way better than me.”

“Oh, I don’t know ‘bout that. You had the boy who doted on you, at least,” Spike said softly, smiling slightly.

She looked right at him then. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

The silence that hung between them was heavy and Spike didn’t know if it would be okay to tell her that she still had a boy who doted on her. He was a bit of a pathetic, good-for-nothing boy but he’d still do anything for her. He didn’t say it though. Surely she knew.

Buffy looked down at the bottle in her hands, head bowed. He couldn’t bear to see the look of sadness on her face. So he stood abruptly and slapped his hands together, making her jump.

“Know what? Forget the sodding hoover,” Spike pointed at her. “Me and you, we’re going out.”

Buffy’s brow creased. “Spike, I don’t think…”

“It’s play time, remember? Get your glad rags on, Slayer.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I don’t have any –”

“Oh, will you just come on!”

“Alright Mr. Bossy Pants…” Buffy stood up and walked out of the room to get changed. He could still hear her call, “But just remember, you ain’t my daddy.”

Spike said nothing to that but several interesting visuals came to mind.

“You’re taking me to a cupboard?" Buffy deadpanned. “A cupboard in a deserted museum, no less. Thanks Spike! Best date ever!”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Not a cupboard. A room.”

“Ooh a room,”

“Oh, shut it you,” He motioned to a panel on the wall by the closed door. “This room will tell you all you ever wanted to know about the history of this lousy planet. More than you’ll want to know, in point of fact.”

Buffy folded her arms and leant against the wall. “The room talks?”

“It talks, it shows, it’s all very hi-tech.”

She glanced at the door sceptically. “You know, as fun as that sounds –”

“I’ll set it to the year you went through the portal. That way you won’t have to hear about all the tedious stuff – ice age, Victorian era, holocaust, yada yada yada…” Spike began punching in numbers on the panel.

Buffy snorted. “Yeah, I bet those events were real tedious at the time.”

He ignored her as he was imputing whatever data the talking room needed. Buffy looked him over and shook her head. He was a hard one to figure out. He always had been but now even more so.

The room made a beeping sound and a light lit up green. Spike pulled on the door handle and it swung open. He motioned to her to go in. To the pitch black room.

The Slayer stood up straight and arched an eyebrow. “Oh, okay, a darkened room. Now, this is more promising.”

Spike gave her an insistent push into the doorway and she grumbled as she stepped inside with him close behind. Then he closed the door. And nothing happened. Buffy stood in the darkness and could see nothing, could hear nothing. She reached out for Spike and found his arm, clutching it protectively.

“Spike?”

“Give it a minute,” he said quietly. “Thought it might be a good idea for you to see what happened to the world after you left it. I can only tell you so much.”

As he said that the room lit up so suddenly and so brightly Buffy had to shield her eyes for a few moments, as she blinked and squinted. The room was empty and about the size of a ballroom. It was painted an ugly industrial grey.

She was about to make some scathing remark about the future’s idea of entertainment when a holographic figure suddenly appeared before her. It was a vision of a man, pleasant looking if a little plain. Buffy could see right through him.

“Welcome to the year 2003,” he smiled slightly. “And beyond.”

And then he was gone. Replaced by images of war and rioting, blackouts and terror. All very moving in its own way, but no more so then watching a show on The History Channel. She wasn’t personally connected to the events, she didn’t witness their effects firsthand and so she felt a sort of detachment from it all.

Then Buffy watched as Sunnydale appeared around her, sunbathed and beautiful-looking. The Sunnydale she remembered – minus the monsters. The scene flickered and in its place was a giant crater. Buffy stood at the edge of it, looking down into the chasm.

“Mysterious circumstances caused the small Californian town of Sunnydale to collapse in upon itself, taking the largely deserted houses and businesses along with it,” a disembodied voice announced.

Buffy kept her eyes on the image as she said. “Mysterious circumstances, huh?”

“That’s me,” Spike replied.

The image flicked again and showed dozens of demons and vampires descending into neighbourhoods, all running from the Hellmouth and it’s destruction. A vampire ran right past her and Buffy nearly tried to deck the hologram instinctively. Spike and she stood right in the middle of the rioting around them, watching it unfold but unable to do anything. These events were past and Buffy was about thirty years too late to help. That bothered her more than she liked.

The images shimmered and she saw the police getting involved - both sides suffered, human and demon. This fighting took place all over the world by the looks of the scenes that changed around her.

Suddenly it stopped.

Buffy was about to speak when a group of men materialised in front of her. They stood in a line, all dressed in suits, faces serious. She recognised only a couple of them. The President of the United States and the Prime Minister of the UK who Giles was always bitching about. She figured the rest of the men were world leaders too.

“The world leaders united,” the voiceover guy said again, confirming her suspicions. “They revealed to the world that Supernaturals and Humanoids were indeed very real. Many months of negotiations amongst themselves and the leaders of the Supernatural communities resulted, finally, in a truce of sorts. New laws were laid. Alliances were forged. And the world became a new place.”

Buffy snorted.

“The organisation Humanoids United was formed,” the voice continued. “Fighting for the equal rights for Humanoids. A synthetic blood was created, meaning Humanoids – referred derogatorily to as ‘vampires’ – no longer had to resort to violence to keep their condition under control.”

Buffy arched an eyebrow at Spike. “Condition. People really think being a vampire is a ‘condition’?”

Spike put a finger to his lips and then pointed at her to keep her eyes front. She turned back and Giles stood in front of her. Buffy’s lips parted in surprise. He stood only three foot in front of her, at a podium, his eyes looking directly at her. Buffy’s hand reached up to touch him before falling in remembrance.

Giles wasn’t really here. She could see through him to the grey beyond.

The voice spoke again. “In the year 2006, there was a massive uprising against the new status of Humanoids, a large portion of the Human community of the United States – the world even – were against instating equal rights. They led a campaign of hate and violence against all Humanoids, indiscriminately. Even going so far as to murder hundreds in cold blood. This so-called ‘war of terror’ was led by one Rupert Giles and his followers were many,”

Buffy couldn’t believe the way Giles was being portrayed here. Vampires weren’t humans, they were demons. Demons to be slayed. To keep the world safe. That’s all Giles had wanted to do and this was what he got in return. Labelled a racist, of sorts. It made her feel nauseous.

“What follows is a portion of perhaps Rupert Giles’ most infamous speech, addressed to a crowd of thousands in New Sunnydale Square. Right outside the Humanoids United headquarters…”

Her Watcher braced his hands on the podium and stared out at the crowds in front of him. Buffy and Spike now stood in the middle of the square, part of the thousands who had come out to watch him.

Giles spoke, his voice strong with belief. “Never let anyone tell you different. Vampires are not human. They are the things that kill humans. Things that burrow into their bodies, cast out their soul, steal their minds and their memories and pervert them. If they look like a loved one just remember this – they are the thing that murdered your mother, father, sibling or friend. They took their life in a violent and vicious manner. They do not love you. They are incapable of it.”

Buffy shifted on her feet, the fingers of her right hand brushing against Spike’s leg. He stood straight and unmoving beside her. She glanced at him covertly out of the corner of her eye. He watched the image of Giles with a blank face. As though he were trying very hard to keep any emotion from his face. It was then that she realised he knew she was looking at him, so she looked away.

Giles faded away and Buffy watched as dozens of people were arrested for killing vampires. She looked out for any sign of Angel but saw none.

The voiceover went on to talk about the integration of vampires into society and Buffy watched the unfolding images carefully. Vampires marrying, corporate business-vampires, adoptive vampire parents. She half expected to see a chorus of little choir boys singing ‘We love vampires, they rule!”. It was all very, very surreal. They didn’t walk around in game face in the images or anything but just knowing that the man hugging the little girl was undead creeped her the hell out.

Soon, however, the walk through history broadened it’s horizons to talk about other events that the world had undertaken in the years that Buffy had been vacationing in The Funnest Dimension Ever.

She saw wars and sadness, people in suffering. Floods. Earthquakes. She saw pain. And Buffy thought, with a tinge of sadness, that the world really hadn’t changed all that much. And then she saw other things. One day in 2012 it rained flower petals in Dubai. Buffy saw the invention of the first flying car. And then the failure of the first flying car. Spike nudged her at that point and she grinned. She witnessed the leaps and bounds made in prosthetic limbs – sadly not bionic – and the new treatment given to burns victims so that their scars were barely visible at all. She saw Presidents come and go, saw cities all over the world build and economise and prosper. She saw the first tourist on the moon. And then the second tourist on the moon. And then the third. They couldn’t get enough of the damn moon.

Buffy turned to Spike. “So, has the future decided whether aliens do exist?”

“No,” Spike smiled. “Although there is a theory about vampires coming from another planet. So, you could be standing next to one right now.”

She shrugged one-shouldered. “They may have a point. I do remember some probing…”

Spike shook his head and laughed as she grinned and jostled him gently.

“2033 - present day,” the voiceover announced. “Thank you for stepping through time with us. This tour is updated daily. Please come again.”

The room plunged into total darkness again. Buffy decided that the whole plunging darkness thing was a design flaw of the talking/showing room. She felt Spike’s cold hand take her arm as he shuffled her in the general direction of the door.

She reached out and placed her hand against his back so she knew exactly where he was. And also because he had a nice back. After a bit of fumbling around – not the fun type – they made it out of the room and back out into the museum proper.

“How long were we in there?” Buffy asked.

Spike looked at his watch. “I want to say 30 years, but it was actually about an hour and a half.”

She tilted her head. “So, we’ve still got time for other things?”

“Like what?” He scanned her face with suspicion.

Buffy grinned. “Nothing ‘untoward’, don’t worry. It’s just after all that depressing history I feel like I should have some future fun. The future does have clubs, doesn’t it?”

Spike paused, smirking, as he said. “Oh, it really, really does.”

+ + +

When Spike got them to the front of the line of a clearly very popular club, Buffy was a little impressed. When he got them a round of free drinks she was even more impressed. Obviously being H.U’s ‘top man’ had benefits. The club he had brought her to was nameless – very chic – and also kind of enormous. There were three floors to it and they were currently propped up against the bar of the middle floor.

Buffy could see over the balcony to the floor below which was really just a huge dancing space, full to the brim of futuristic dancers doing futuristic dance moves. When she saw one guy attempting the robot she just smiled. The music blaring through the neon-blue painted building was some machine-generated techno-pop thing. Clearly not to Spike’s taste as he squinted in mild pain and nursed his half pint.

Buffy downed the last of her interesting alcohol drink and eyed the bottles of bright blue liquid behind the bar. Spike had explained to her that it was a relatively new type of beverage which was capable of sinking a small elephant, or a tiny Slayer, in one gulp. By the looks of the half dozen people dozing on the plush couches – and in one case the middle of the floor – she was inclined to believe him.

The dance beat was beginning to call to her. She elbowed Spike to get his attention and he pulled a face at her. When she inclined her head in the direction of the dance floor he shook his head sullenly.

“Okay,” she shrugged. “I’ll find someone else to dance with. Don’t wait up –”

Spike darted around in front of her as she tried to move away. “Sorry, love. Can’t let you do that. Have to keep an eye on you at all times.”

Buffy smiled slowly. “Well, you can watch me from up here.”

“Not my idea of fun,” he replied looking down at the floor of dancing people.

She stepped into him. “And just what is your idea of fun these days, Spike?”

He shrugged one-shouldered. “I’ll let you know when I find that out.” He said darkly.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Balderdash!”

Spike started, and looked at her surprised. “You what?”

“Balderdash,” she repeated a little less enthusiastically. “I don’t buy it. Your whole moody, ‘my life sucks’ vibe. It does not. You’ve got Mya. A job. Magical sun block. And, now you’ve got me. Which totally rules.”

He smiled slightly and looked down at the floor. “I s’pose so.”

“You know so,” Buffy reached out and took his hand. “So, are you gonna dance with me, or what?”

Spike paused a moment. “How in hell am I supposed to dance to this?”

She pulled him towards the stairs. “I guess I could just dance on you.”

Spike overtook her and started down the stairs. “Right then, I’m in…”

Buffy grinned and let him lead the way.

When Buffy woke up upside down she just had to wonder why for a long moment. Her head was kind of hurting due to all the blood rushing towards her brain. She groaned and sat up on the bed. She then proceeded to flop over onto her front, sighing. She had no idea what time it was but going by the rather loud mambo band that seemed to be performing in her head she knew it was too early. Something was tickling her foot. She kicked at it and heard a loud curse. Buffy opened her eyes partially, frozen. Tried to recall the last time she woke up in bed with the not aloneness and sadly found it harder to remember than it should have been.

The bed moved beneath her as her companion turned over and then a sharp swat against her foot made her brave a look. She lifted her head and looked down at her feet. All she saw was a mop of bright blonde hair. Oh. Of course.

For some reason Buffy was sleeping the wrong way up, her head at the end of the bed and her feet up against the headboard. That was the least of the confusion, though. Firstly, she kind of wanted to know how she’d ended up in Spike’s bed. She suspected it was down to the copious amount of liquor she’d consumed. Thinking back on it now Buffy vaguely remembered the sensation of being carried. He’d carried her?

The Slayer closed her eyes and rested her forehead down on the mattress. She so did not want to come to terms with the implications of being in Spike’s bed. She knew for damn sure nothing had happened, she’d have had to be stone cold drunk not to remember that. Besides, there was the whole fully clothed state of them both. Unfortunately.

Just as she was contemplating the right kind of action – flee or stay, she felt the bed move again. Buffy closed her eyes instinctively. A moment later and her skin began to tingle with the sensation of very light fingertips tracing the arch of her foot. She fought not to squirm away and stayed put. The finger tip found its way around to the curve of her ankle. And then it was gone. Just like that.
Buffy frowned. A lot.

“You used to be ticklish there,” Spike spoke suddenly.

Buffy jumped, blowing her cover. She flushed. “Not nice to exploit my weaknesses.”

He yawned and she turned and watched as he rolled onto his back to look up at the ceiling. She prodded his chest with her foot and he looked at her.

“I’m…”

Spike arched an eyebrow. “…Buffy?”

“Duh,” she snorted. “I’m…kind of…in your bed?”

He kept the eyebrow arched. “Is that a question?”

“Stop trying to be clever. It doesn’t suit you.”

He half-smiled, eyes sleepy. “The only thing that looks good on me is you, eh love?”

“Oh yeah. Well, that and tight pants,” she replied.

He laughed at that and closed his eyes. She smiled and did the same. Buffy felt strange. She had an odd warm feeling building in her stomach and it felt very much like laughing. That moment mid-laugh when nothing else matters and everything is just okay. Only lasts a while and it’s rarely ever noticed but that’s what it reminded her of.

“Spike?”

“Buffy?”

The Slayer rolled onto her back and then sat up to look down at him. “Since I’m stuck here. I mean the future not, like, your bed or anything…anyway. Since it looks like I’m here for good, if I don’t get thrown in the slammer for the murder of innocent vamps and the coffee tables of the future don’t kill me –”

“There a question in there somewhere?” He pulled himself into a half-sitting position against the headboard.

Buffy scowled. “I was getting to that. Taking into account the previous rambling…would it be okay for me to…stay?”

Spike frowned. “Stay?”

“Here, I mean,” she said awkwardly, looking down at her ticklish feet. “Obviously not here in this – your – bed. God, no. Not that it’s not a nice bed – ’cos it is. I just mean here with you. Oh, what am I even saying? Of course it’s not okay! You have Mya and you’re widowed and I’m being an asshole! Just ignore me, okay? Okay. Good. Let’s not –”

“Buffy,” Spike reached out and placed a finger on her lips to silence her. “You even have to ask?”

Buffy shrugged and nodded simultaneously.

He smiled. “Okay, then I’ll have to answer. Stay forever. No, forget that, stay longer than forever.”

She smiled against his finger and that’s when they both seemed to realise he was still touching her. Spike’s hand dropped quickly but Buffy caught it and kept hold of it. She studied it closely. His long thin fingers, the deep lines on his palm. He had a scar on one of his knuckles. She’d never noticed before. Little things she never paid attention to.

Buffy looked up and found Spike looking at her curiously. For a short while things seemed to stay just like that. Both of them sitting on his bed, his hand held in hers, their eyes searching.

That was when Mya burst through the door.

“Dad! You’ll be glad to – Buffy!” Mya screeched to a halt. “Uh…I guess you actually will be glad to Buffy.”

Buffy quickly let go of Spike’s hand and jumped up too fast, her legs tangling in the sheets and nearly throwing herself headfirst off the bed. Instead she just about managed to catch herself and try to look dignified and not at all guilty.

“There’s no Buffying!” She announced.

Mya’s shock turned to a slow smile. “Uh huh. I was going to let you know there’s a message from Cain Travers on the machine but you know what? It’s not that important. You two have…a nice time.”

She gave a little wave and then backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her. The sound of running footsteps and barely suppressed laughter could be heard for several moments. Buffy turned to look at Spike. He was already climbing out of bed, clothes rumpled and starting for the door.

“Well, come on!” He motioned to her. “This could be it.”

When Buffy finally freed herself from the sheets the door was wide open and the vampire was long gone. She huffed and leapt off the bed after him. Trotting down the hall towards the living room she could hear Cain’s voice drifting down the hallway.

“…busy to answer my call, you bastard? Fine. I’ll keep it short and obnoxious – just like you, Spike – I’ve reached my decision on our dear Slayer. Fact of the matter is, she broke the law. No getting past that. However, she does have a bit of a legend to her. Could benefit The Council in some way to have her name associated with us. Scare all those little leeches who’re thinking ’bout rising up against us. So, here’s the thing,”

Buffy stepped into the living room and Spike glanced at her then turned his attention back to the answering machine.

“Summers will stand trial but it’ll be a trial run by us and by H.U. If you’re dear girl is crafty enough to plead her case against H.U. and win, then she’s in the clear. The Council will lend our support.”

Spike turned to Buffy and grinned. “See, I told you. It’s all goin’ to be –”

“But think on this, mate. H.U. are goin’ to want to see her go down for this. And they’re going to appoint their top man to the case…”

Buffy locked eyes with Spike.

“…and he’s going to have to argue the case for her execution or indefinite imprisonment. Hang on… aren’t you their top man?”

Cain hung up, laughing.

It was too early in the morning for this. He was a vampire, he didn’t do mornings. And, yet, here he was – rifling around his office and cramming everything that didn’t belong to the company into a box. Too bloody early for removal work.

Spike grabbed a picture of Mya and placed it carefully in the box, followed by a tattered stuffed pig Dawn had left with him on her last visit. He didn’t know why she’d been carting the thing around with her but he kept it nonetheless. He was just emptying the contents of his drawers when the door to his office swung open.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little rash?” Michael asked jovially. “Just because I didn’t call you’re throwing a hissy and leaving?”

Spike rolled his eyes and carried on packing. Michael was a colleague who he tended to get on with well enough. Nice enough bloke, for an American. Decent sense of humour and enjoyed a smoke. Good back up if Spike ever needed back-up – which he rarely did – but the vampire never did remember his surname. He was all tanned skin and blonde hair. Californian surfer type.

Michael frowned, leaning against the door. “Okay, what are you doing?”

“Leaving,” Spike said simply.

“Mmm hmm. Any particular reason?”

“I think I can guess this one,” came a female voice floating over the man’s shoulder. “A girl. A Slayer. One from his mysterious past who just so happens to have gotten herself charged with murder. Right, Spike?”

Spike gritted his teeth. “Oh how I’ll miss you, Luce.”

Lucy Porter glided into the room to stand in front of Michael.

They looked like polar opposites. Her hair was a dark, dark, brown and her eyes as blue as Spike’s. She was tall and slender, skin pale. Not a vampire but could have been mistaken for one by the untrained eye. Spike had always had a fairly love/hate relationship with her. Fairly light on the ‘love’ side of the equation. They argued often but had never come to blows. Yet.

“So you’re giving up everything for her?” Lucy folded her arms. “How romantic. How chivalrous. How stupid.”

He shoved a dried up fruitcake from the Christmas party in the box then thought better of it and lobbed it into the bin. “The bosses are goin’ to make me take this case. I can’t. I’m never goin’ to argue against Buffy. So this is the only thing I can do.”

“Take a second to think about this, you dumbass. You leave H.U. then you no longer have their authority to have this ‘Buffy’ under your observation. They take her away. You lose anyway,” Lucy pointed at him. “And, hello, but what makes you think they’ll assign this case to you?”

Spike threw the box down on the desk. “Because I’m the best.”

“Yeah, right,” Lucy snorted. “I’m way better than you. The only reason I haven’t got your job is because I lack a penis.”

Spike arched an eyebrow. “And a brain.”

“Screw you, William.”

“Doesn’t matter now anyway, Porthole. I’m leavin’ so you can have my job.”

“I don’t need your hand-me-downs.”

Michael raised a hand. “Hey, I’m pretty good too.”

They both glared at him.

“Fine,” he snorted.

Spike slumped down into this chair behind his desk and turned to look out his window. All of it – his. His office. His career. All of it, gone. There was no way he could side with H.U. on this one. Buffy was always going to be his cause to rally to. He doubted the head honcho’s would just let him side with ‘the enemy’ and then welcome him back into the bosom.

Shame. He was just getting used to the place.

Lucy shook her head. “You’re serious. Just like that, you’re gone? For, what, some murderer you knew thirty years ago?”

“I don’t have to justify myself to you,” Spike said darkly, eyeing her.

“Seriously, man,” Michael took a step further into the room. “This girl must be pretty awesome to leave this place.”

“This awesome girl murdered a man.” Lucy chimed in.

Spike turned back to the window, watching the tree sway outside. “She’s a Slayer. They were made to kill.”

“So, that makes it okay?”

“Like I said,” he watched leaves fall. “I don’t have to justify myself. Or Buffy. Not to you. At least, not now and not here.”

Spike stood, did up the button on his suit jacket and looked at her. “I suppose I’ll see you in court then, Luce.”

She folded her arms and regarded him for a long moment. “I suppose you will.”

A long, tense silence enfolded them.

“So, no one’s going to even entertain the idea that I might get this case then?” Michael asked, eyebrows raised, looking between them. A beat. “No? Okay then.”


+ + +


“This could be good,” Norman said in-between sipping his tea.

Buffy sat down opposite him. “How’d you figure? Spike getting me executed does not strike me as good.”

The lawyer shook his head. “Not that part. The part about it being an H.U./Council trial only. Not having it be public is good news.”

Buffy shifted in her seat. “Because the public would think I’m a killer?”

“I didn’t say that…”

“Didn’t have to,” She replied, looking away. “Thing is, Norman…I kind of don’t want to go to prison. I’d like to really not go to prison, please.”

He smiled slightly. “That’s what we’re working on, Buffy.”

She looked back at him. “Do we…do I really have a chance though? Be brutally honest, Norman. Do I have a hope in hell of getting out of this one?”

He placed his tea down on the table. “You always have hope.”

Buffy sighed, looking down at her bare feet. “Not to rain on your hope parade but I’ve never had a lot of it in my life.”

They said nothing for a while. Just sat there, thinking. Buffy was wondering where Spike had got to. After hearing Cain’s message he’d practically ran out of the door. Nearly got himself fried in the process before he remembered it was bright sunlight outside. She had a feeling he was going to do something stupid and now she was regretting not running out after him.

Norman shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “Having Mr. Spike on your side will help your cause.”

“That’s gotta be the first time anyone has ever said that,” Buffy nearly smiled.

“He’s got a good public persona,” Norman told her. “A high position job in a company primarily dealing with rights for Humanoids. If he’s on your side then it can only make you look better.”

Buffy patted her hair self-consciously. “I am looking kind of a mess.”

“Oh, no that’s not what I meant at all…I…” Norman began gesturing frantically.

“I know, Norman, I know,” she grinned. “I just like playing with you. Oh! Not in the sexual sense of course! Not that I’m saying you’re gross or –”

“No! No, I wouldn’t…oh what are…oh…”

As the two of them dug themselves deeper into the Crater of Embarrassment, Spike entered and saved the day. Sort of. He flung the blanket from his head and Buffy stood to ask him where he’d been. When she saw the box of stuff he placed on the floor a feeling of dread spread over her. Norman stood too, face red.

Spike looked between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“NO!” They both screeched.

There was a pause.

“Mmm hmm,” Spike took his jacket off and threw it to the side with the blanket, as he walked slowly towards them. “An impromptu meeting with the solicitor or something more sinister? Should I be jealous?”

Norman squeaked.

Buffy folded her arms and huffed. “Yes, we’re secret lovers. What the hell did you do?” she looked at the box.

Spike shrugged casually and slumped down into the couch. “Quit.”

“Spike, no,” Buffy shook her head. “Go un-quit!”

“I’m not taking this case, I won’t argue against you,” he replied, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m done. Nothing more to say on the matter. Who fancies a shandy?”

“Spike!” Buffy stomped over to him. “I’m not letting you give up your career for me!”

He looked at her. “It’s not about you letting me do anything, Buffy. I make my own decisions these days. And you’re not about to change my mind.”

“Sorry to interrupt…but do you have any idea who might be taking up the position of Buffy’s prosecution?” Norman asked sheepishly.

Spike turned to him, sighed. “Probably Lucy Porter. Right man-eater, very good at her job. Nice legs too.”

“Hey!” Buffy protested.

Spike arched an eyebrow. “What? It’s alright for you to get jiggy with Norm here but not for me to notice women?”

“There was no jigginess!” Buffy scowled. “And anyway, you do realise that I’m totally screwed now, right? Without you working for those H.U. people I haven’t got a chance in hell of winning.”

Spike held his hands out. “What did you want me to do? I’ve got a bit of conflict of interests here.”

“They will have to take Buffy into custody,” Norman announced.

The Slayer turned away and walked slowly to the patio doors. There she stood with her back to the two men.

Spike spoke to Norman. “Anything we can do about that?”

“Not really, no,” Norman said. “Not unless another H.U. rep or a Council member is willing to have her under house arrest like you did.”

Spike glanced at Buffy who still faced away then turned back to Norman with a thoughtful expression. “Not sure this’d be allowed but…I think I know just the candidate.”


+ + +


Faith hated that phone. Still, it continued to ring. And she continued to lay face down on the mattress she called her bed. The ringing didn’t stop. Groaning she rolled onto her back and slapped her hand about searching for the fucking thing. She grabbed something big and hard, brought it to her ear and only then realised it really wasn’t the phone. Throwing it away she searched again and found it finally.

“Hello? Spike?” She rasped. Listening a moment she sat up and frowned. “You want me to what?”

“You want me to what?” Buffy glared at Spike, arms folded.

He stood slowly. “It’s just until you’re cleared.”

She shook her head. “No. Not Faith. Anyone but Faith.”

“There is no one else,” he held his arms out. “Not unless you fancy shacking up in a nice cosy prison cell. Maybe we can get you one next to Angel.”

Buffy stared at him stony-faced. “I’ll probably end up there anyway.”

She watched as his face fell and she felt bad about it. Felt bad about being the cause of that expression again. Buffy would bet before she came back Spike hadn’t had that look on his face in a long time. The look that said, ‘you’re breaking my heart, you bitch’. He never said it, though. Well, maybe once.

Norman cleared his throat and they both turned to him. “Uh, it’s best not to have a defeatist attitude, Buffy.”

“Easy for you to say,” she sighed, slumping down on the couch. “You’re not the one up for first degree murder. And also, not having to room with Faith.”

Spike slumped into the armchair across from her. “I dare say he wouldn’t mind that particular roommate.”

“My taste in living arrangements side,” Norman said awkwardly, “We do have a chance of winning this case. I intend to give it my all.”

Buffy smile slightly. “I know you do, Norm. I appreciate it. A girl couldn’t ask for a better lawyer.”

Norman nodded and gathered up his briefcase announcing that he was going to go home to study practically every book known to man to try and find her a way out of this. He advised she get a good night’s sleep and that’d he’d see her at Faith’s apartment the next day. Buffy fell into a mood again at the very mention of the other woman’s name. When Norman had left and she remained sitting there - the very picture of despondent - for quite some time, Spike finally spoke.

“Why’d you hate her so much?”

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “You are joking, right?”

“No, I mean, I get she did things to you,” he said carefully. “But then so did I. So did Angel. And you like us. Well, me. Mostly me, I think.”

She couldn’t help but crack a smile. “That was different.”

“How?”

“You guys are trying to redeem yourselves.”

Spike tilted his head. “What’s to say she isn’t? She still fights evil. She was in prison because she chose to go there. They wouldn’t have had a chance in hell of catching her or keeping her in there if she didn’t want to be.”

Buffy locked eyes with him. “I know that.”

“So then…what?”

“It’s just not the same.”

He regarded her. “It’s because she had a soul, isn’t it? When she did all those things. And you can’t understand how. You think having a soul is the be all and end all.”

Buffy shrugged. “So what if I do.”

“We all do bad things and good things, regardless of souls,” he explained.

“If you’re soulless you have no conscience,” she retorted. “She had a soul. She had a conscience. She had no excuse. You and Angel didn’t have consciences.”

He shook his head. “You know I don’t believe that.”

“And you know I do.”

They said nothing for a while. Buffy looked him over, wanted to commit him to memory. This new him. This essentially same him. The hair was darker, the clothes smarter, the attitude calmer. But boiling beneath the surface was still the guy she had always known. She was pretty sure he wanted to get into a full blown philosophical debate with her right then, full of British swear words and erratic gestures – as had always been his way – but he didn’t. He simply raised one eyebrow for a moment then nodded slowly.

“Fair enough,” Spike said.

The Slayer smiled. “We’ll never see things the same way.”

He shrugged. “That’s the beauty of it.”

“Always arguing?”

“Gets the blood pumping.”

“Your blood doesn’t pump,” she pointed out. “It’s not even yours.”

Spike folded his arms. “Possession is nine tenths of the law, Slayer.”

Buffy grinned. “Slayer, huh? You don’t call me that much anymore.”

“Just when you’re acting like one.”

She motioned towards herself. “Acting like one? If I was, you’d be dust by now, pal.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

He shook his head, smiled. “You don’t, though. I’ve picked up some new things these past years. I reckon you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Oh you do? Care to wager on that, Mr. Vampire?”

“I’m unemployed, I shouldn’t wager.”

Buffy’s face became still. “I’m still mad about that, by the way.”

“Deal with it.”

She stood, folded her arms. “I kind of want to kick your ass now.”

“In my old age my hearing is going, was that ‘kick’ or ‘lick’…?” He smirked, slouched in the chair.

Buffy shook her head and didn’t rise to the bait. Instead she turned and walked up to the patio doors, pulling them open and stepping outside. The wooden deck outside felt hard beneath her bare feet. She stood and admired the view of the garden. The sun was shining brightly and she heard Spike come up to the doorway behind her, staying in the shadows of the house.

He spoke quietly. “Be nice to Faith.”

“Maybe,” Buffy replied.

“Try.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “I guess you won’t miss me messing up your house.”

“Like how I used to mess up yours?” Spike smiled.

“Things come full circle.”

He shrugged. “I get the feelin’ this won’t be the end for you.”

“And if it is?” Buffy asked, suddenly afraid.

Spike tilted his head. “If it is…”

Buffy watched as he stood up straight and lifted his arm up, holding his hand out to her. In doing this his arm exited the safety of the house and entered the sunbathed garden. Buffy stared in morbid fascination as Spike’s arm began to smoulder.

“If it is,” he continued easily. “I’m comin’ with you.”

It took her a second longer to react, her eyes fixed on his outstretched hand. Then something in her snapped into action and she rushed at him, shoving him back into the house with hard force.
“What the hell are you doing?” Buffy growled as Spike caught his balance.

He answered distractedly, studying his scorched arm. “Making a gesture. It’s my thing.”

“You’re an idiot.” She fumed madly, walking up to him and grabbing the arm to inspect it herself.

“Ow, hey!” He yelped trying to pull away. “Leave it!”

She kept a firm hold of his wrist and looked up to meet his gaze. “Don’t. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Likewise,” Spike raised his eyebrows. “So we’re agreed then.”

“Agreed on what?” she frowned.

“No more mopey attitudes, we’ll make it through this and then we’ll fight and yell some more and it’ll be like old times.” He decided.

Buffy shook her head and dropped his wrist. “I hate your gestures.”

Spike grinned and turned on his heel, walking out of the room he called back to her. “No you don’t.”

The Slayer scowled and then nearly smiled. Bastard.

She went to pack her few belongings, ready to move in with Faith.

Buffy didn’t know how long it was they waited for Faith to show up, standing outside her door clutching trash bags of borrowed and new clothes, but it was pretty damn long. An hour passed and Buffy gave the door a helping hand in opening. Much to Spike’s displeasure. Funny to think he used to be a varied breaking and entering offender himself.

Faith’s apartment was empty. Still. Void of life. Not surprising really, but still somewhat sad. The girl didn’t even have a bed, just a mattress on the floor. There was no couch, no furniture of any kind. Just a TV, a fridge and a few belongings scattered around the place.

Buffy gave Spike a look.

He had the good grace to look sheepish. “I’m sure she’s in the process of…renovating?”

“Yeah,” Buffy dumped her bags in the middle of the room. “I think she should start by tearing the place down and rebuilding it.”

Spike laughed softly and looked around. “Play nice, Buffy.”

“Can’t promise that.”

“Give it a trial run?” he looked her in the eyes.

She saluted him. “Aye, aye, boss.”

He hauled up her bags and she watched as he moved them to one side of the room, clearing a path for her stuff. He began looking around the apartment for something but she didn’t know what. Eventually he sighed and walked over to one of the windows, pulling the blind up he opened it. It was so stiff he had to exert some force.

“Sweet fresh air,” Buffy mused, the stale smell of the apartment immediately lessening. “Where could she have gone? It’s bright daylight.”

Spike spent a moment looking out the window, feeling the sun on his protected skin. “Maybe she didn’t come back last night.”

“More than likely.”

Spike glanced at her over her shoulder. “Girl likes to have fun. Nothin’ wrong in that.”

“Sleeping around isn’t exactly right, either.”

He turned around. “Says who?”

“Jesus and Santa Claus,” Buffy responded off-handed as she began to explore Faith’s belongings nosily.

Mostly it was CD’s and old newspapers and magazines. She came across a silver bracelet with her name engraved on it and wondered who had given Faith such a thing. Buffy crouched down and still fingering the bracelet looked up as the door swung open with a creak.

“Settling in?” Faith folded her arms loosely and looked over the rim of her sunglasses at them.

Buffy stood slowly and let her eyes run over the vampire. Tight jeans, scuffed brown boots, a dark red tank top. She carried in her arms a brown bag.

Spike took a step towards her. “Sorry to impose. It’s good of you to do this for her.”

“Her is right here,” Buffy said, assuming a defensive pose.

“Isn’t she just,” Faith walked into the room, around Spike, past Buffy towards the fridge. “I went out to get some stuff to eat.”

Buffy followed her with her eyes. “Mmm blood. Yummy,” she said with distaste.

The muscles in Faith’s back tightened visibly, her shoulder blades jutting out, as she began to pull things from the bag. Normal things. Carrots. Apples. Juice. All very human things to eat.

And very obviously for her and not Faith.

Buffy opened her mouth but nothing came out mostly because she had no idea what to say. Spike shot her a look of strong disapproval and went over to Faith, helping her unpack. The Slayer was met with both their backs and nothing more. She felt incredibly embarrassed and also like a heinous bitch. This was Faith. Faith was not her best friend, Faith had done a lot of bad things to her in the past…but Faith was letting her stay. She had to be at least civil.

“Spike, you should get back to Mya,” Buffy said as levelly as she could.

He turned around, looked at his watch. “I can stay a bit longer. Get you settled in.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“You’re sure?”

Faith leaned against the wall, taking her sunglasses off. “The girl will be fine. I’ll give her the grand tour and then we’ll roast marshmallows and have pillow fights, ‘kay?”

Spike mumbled something underneath his breath but made his way out. As he walked past he gave Buffy’s arm a soft squeeze and then left and she watched his exit. A long moment passed and the Slayer turned back to the dark-haired woman who stood across the room from her.

“He’s protective,” she found the strange need to explain.

Faith shrugged with one shoulder and went back to unpacking the food she had bought. Buffy felt about as awkward as she’d ever felt in her life. She shed her jacket and draped it onto…the floor. There was nothing else to drape it onto. Then after a moment of deep breathing she walked up beside Faith with an expectant look upon her face.

Faith glanced at her then away before doing a double take. “What? I got somethin’ on my face?”

For once, not Buffy thought but didn’t voice it.

“Thanks for the invite,” she managed to croak.

Faith sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Spike pretty much saved my life a bunch of times. I couldn’t say no. Even if I really, really wanted to.”

Buffy scowled. “Well, thanks anyway.”

They said nothing for a while and Buffy pondered again at how crappy this situation was. She reminded herself to never room with Faith again. And what with prison looming that probably wouldn’t be an issue anyway.

Faith seemed to read her mind. “You think you’ll get off? The charges, I mean.”

“Spike and Norman seem optimistic,” she answered distantly.

The vampire cocked her head. “And you?”

Buffy sighed and shrugged slowly. “I’m…not really thinking about it. Blocking it out. I’m sure it’s the worst thing I can do but...”

“But it’s easier that way,” she nodded. “Keep your mind off it. Willow and Xander are around right? That should help.”

Buffy nodded slowly. “I haven’t seen all that much of them. I should make more of an effort…I’m being an asshole. But…but all I can do right now is try and keep things simple. I’ve got a lot to find out about. It’s hard to be around people I used to know so well who I don’t really know at all anymore.”

Faith paused. “Makes sense,” was all she said before kicking off her boots and slumping down onto her mattress.

“I wish it did,” Buffy said softly to herself.

+ + +

“So, what’s the plan?”

Spike continued to stare at his beer bottle as he answered his daughter. “For what?”

“Getting Buffy off.”

He did look up then, eyes wide. “What?”

Mya frowned then made a face. “Eww, dad. Off the murder charge. Ack, scar me for life why don’t you.”

“Oh,” he breathed, looking back down at his beer.

In truth he had been wondering the same thing. About the murder charge. And nothing else. At all. He honestly didn’t know what to do. Sure, they more or less had The Council’s backing but that wouldn’t be enough. They needed something else, something more. They’d need excellent character witnesses too. Which wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Buffy had killed that vampire and they had a dozen or so witnesses to the crime, plus bodily remains.
And they had Norman Wagner, wonder lawyer.

This was all going down the crapper.

“Well? Helloooo?”

Spike met her eyes. “I don’t know.”

Mya’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. Okay. I thought you’d have an ingenious and devious plan.”

“I’m useless.”

“You are,” she nodded. “But you’re also resourceful. You’ll come up with something.”

Spike smiled. “How’d you know?”

“’Cos I pretty much rule.”

Spike’s smile widened and he was granted an equally bright one from his girl. Still, he couldn’t help but wish he had more faith in himself. This was going to be far from easy. Nothing with Buffy was ever easy. He should have remembered that. He remembered everything.

He wished she was with him right then. Sitting across from him and pretending not to care that she was in trouble. The house was already beginning to feel empty without her.

“She’s very pretty,” Mya said.

He blinked. “Who?”

“Buffy, duh.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “Right.”

She sat down on the arm of his chair. “I wouldn’t…I mean, you can…it’s alright that you still love her.”

And there it was. Someone had said it and it was his daughter. He didn’t know what to say, what to think, how to act. He and Buffy were always very much just him and Buffy. No one else had ever really been involved, been privy to what went on with them. He’d never really had anyone to talk to about her, about what he felt for her. For that person to come along and for it to be Mya seemed strange and unusual.

Spike looked away. “Mya, it’s complicated.”

“It always is. Deal with it.”

“Why do you act like an annoying know-it-all?” Spike asked.

“I learnt it from my dad,” she grinned.

He grunted, sipped his beer. “I think it’s bed time for you.”

“It’s six o’clock, I’m sixteen, so you can go to bed but I’m staying right about here,” she flopped down onto the couch next to him.

Spike sighed and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re the boss.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

“Strangely, yes.”

“Mwhahahah.”

“…Now that was just unattractive…”

+ + +

Buffy slept on Faith’s mattress with Faith snoring next to her and looked up at the ceiling. She sighed.

“This is just unattractive.”

Spike was annoyed. He often was annoyed but never more so than right then. Sitting in a prison cell, pretending to concentrate on a game of chess he didn’t really care about, with a former vampire who was being no help at all.

Angel sighed. “I don’t have an answer.”

“Fat lot of use you are then.” Spike grumbled, looking in the general direction of the tiny barred window.

He glared. “You think I don’t wish I knew what to do? Buffy’s in trouble. I want to help. She was my world for a long time.”

Spike snorted to himself and wished this whole big mess would just go away. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Buffy was back and it should’ve been the best thing in the world ever. It was, but it was being marred by this whole trial issue. He could find no way out of it. It was completely unfair. Hadn’t the Slayer had more than enough of her fair share of bad karma? If only he’d reached her before she ran into that vampire. But then how could he have? He’d thought she was dead. Everyone had. Still he found a way to blame himself. It was his fault she’d been stuck in the portal in the first place. His fault that he’d had to live without her for thirty years. His fault that she’d never see Dawn and Giles ever again. Everything was his fault. This wasn’t a martyr complex either; it was just the cold hard truth. He’d always had a habit of ballsing things up, ever since his days of being a meek and mild human prat.

It seemed a leopard really couldn’t change his spots. Or his failings.

“How is Buffy dealing with this?” Angel asked, moving a piece on the board.

Spike shrugged with one shoulder. “She’s not. Far as I can tell. Just hopin’ it will go away.”

“She hasn’t changed then,” Angel replied wryly.

Spike looked at him then. “Not a bit. I know it shouldn’t surprise me since it hasn’t been thirty years for her but…it does. She’s exactly how I remembered her.”

He rested his chin on his hand. “Seemed shorter to me.”

He laughed a little. “Your failing human memory at work.”

Angel pulled a grouchy face and waited on Spike to make his move on the chessboard. He’d be waiting a long time because the last thing on Spike’s mind was chess. Instead they sat there in silence, thinking.

“It seems to me,” the dark-haired man said slowly. “That if you can prove Buffy was in another dimension where time moved differently, H.U wouldn’t be able to hold her accountable.”

Spike frowned. “And how in hell do I do that?”

Angel shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“You know, I think you are highly overrated.” Spike pointed at him.

Angel nodded. “But still better than you in every way.”

“’Cept chess,” Spike pointed at the board. “Checkmate.”

+ + +

“Holy crap, look at your hair!” Mya pointed at the picture, mouth wide.

Buffy pulled a face. “Hey, what about it?”

“Talk about mom hair.”

“I knew it!” She cried in despair.

“It was not mom hair,” Willow patted her on the shoulder. “It was just…practical.”

Buffy’s eyebrows rose. “Great.”

The three of them sat cross-legged on Faith’s floor, lack of chairs making it the only option, with a pile of photographs Willow had rescued from Sunnydale. Sunnydale of the past that was. Buffy had to admit it was nice seeing pictures of them all as they had been, as she remembered them. The pictures of Dawn and her had made her go all quiet until Willow had quickly changed them for pictures of Buffy and her mom hair.

Mya touched a picture of a very young looking Xander pulling a goofy grin and pointing at the camera. “Wow. Xander with two eyes.”

“It was quite an achievement,” the man in question announced as he came over, handing them mugs of coffee.

“Oh. No. I just meant…” Mya trailed off. “I meant nothing. Not a thing.”

Xander eased down next to Willow. “Glad to hear it.”

They all sipped on their hot coffees and Buffy smiled. It was nice to have them here. Just the other day she had been saying to Faith how she wasn’t ready to have them around but here they were and it was nice. She could handle the nostalgia trips in short bursts. Besides, with Mya around things were unlikely to take a heavy turn. Buffy had been surprised to see the teenager at her – or, rather, Faith’s – door without her father. It was just like how Dawn used to run away to Spike’s crypt without telling her. Only the other way around. The thought made her sad again.

“Do you guys have any pictures of dad?” Mya asked over the rim of her can of Coke.

“Um,” Willow frowned, pawing through the pictures.

Buffy set her mug down on the floor. “Spike wasn’t big on the posing for group shots.”

“Oh! Hey! There he is. Kind of,” Willow held up a picture. “If you squint and turn it on a ninety degree angle.”

In the forefront of the picture were Buffy, Dawn, Willow and Xander. They were in the Magic Box. Giles must have been taking the picture. Anya was barely in the frame at the register. And there in the corner was Spike sitting on the stairs, scuffed boots prominent, duster draped around him, leaning his chin on his hand. His face was only partially in view but there was enough to show he was incredibly bored. Buffy smiled.

“Holy crap, look at his hair!” Mya took the picture and stared at it. “It’s blonde. No, it’s neon. Did Billy Idol mind my dad being such an embarrassing rip-off?”

“Actually, he stole his look from Spike,” Buffy said and when they all looked at her she shrugged. “Allegedly.”

“Ah ha, here he is again,” Willow handed over another picture. “From Xander’s almost wedding.”

Xander shook his head. “Thanks for that.”

She pinched his cheek. Buffy and Mya huddled in close to view the picture. To her surprise it was a picture of Spike talking to her. She could remember the exact conversation as if it were yesterday. He liked it when she was happy. That’s what he had said.

“When…who took this?” She asked, looking up.

Xander shrugged. “We gave out a bunch of disposable cameras. It was a clever idea I came up with.”

“You stole it from Sam, remember?” Willow said innocently.

He glared. “Yes thanks, Will.”

“Can I just say one thing?” Mya paused for a moment. “That dress is really ugly.”

Buffy tilted her head. “It made me glow.”

“Like Kryptonite,” Xander nodded.

“Or radioactive slime.” Mya offered.

Buffy ignored them and looked down at the pile of photos scattered across the floor. Photos of them all. She saw Riley, Tara, Cordelia, her mother. Anyone that had ever meant anything to her. Now this would be all she would have. Photos. She had no idea what Riley was doing or if Cordelia became an actress. Maybe Oz cast out the wolf within. Was Wesley still with the Council? Did Robin avenge his mother’s death? She knew nothing. And she asked nothing.

“Buff,” Xander said softly, breaking her trance. “You need a place to stay, just ask.”

Buffy shook her head, tried for a smile. “Have to stay with my official Council handler.”

“Living with Faith…jeez,” Willow grimaced. “Gotta be hard.”

She shrugged. “So far, no drama.”

“Good. And, you know, if you felt like perhaps bedtime was a Kodak moment…you’d make an old man very happy,” Xander said, eyeing the single mattress.

Buffy pulled a face. “Thank you for the nightmares.”

“Seriously, Buff, I bet Faith’s not afraid to go over to the dark side.”

Willow shoved him. “Hey. There’s nothing dark about it.”

“Ow,” Xander protested.

The Slayer smiled. “Pervy Xander gets punished.”

“And not in the fun way,” Willow nodded.

“Hello, children present,” Mya raised a hand. “Please I beg of you to stop with the Slayer sexual innuendo stuff.”

From across the room, somewhere under a pile of blankets, Faith’s muffled voice yelled. “Yeah, shut the hell up!”

+ + +

“Note to self: keep only daughter on leash.” Spike said loudly as he entered Faith’s apartment. It was now mostly empty except for Buffy and his daughter still sitting on the floor with the pile of pictures, chatting lightly.

Mya looked up from the floor, perfectly at ease. “Father of mine, hello.”

Spike waved. “Mya, what a surprise. Finding you here. I was just stopping by but this is even better.”

“I live to brighten up your world,” Mya smiled.

“Don’t you just,” Spike beamed, then turned his gaze to Buffy. “How’s it goin’ here? With Faith?”

Buffy stood, stretching. “It’s…incredibly awkward. But I’ll deal.”

Spike nodded. “Good. I went to see Angel.”

“Oh.”

Mya looked between them. “So, what’d he say? Did he come up with an ingenious plan?”

“No, his forehead may be large but that’s not an indicator of his brain mass,” Spike sighed, walking further in.

Mya shook her head. “You’d think immortality would give you people time to become problem solvers. Lucky for you I’m here. And I’ve come up with an idea.”

Spike arched an eyebrow in Buffy’s direction but spoke to Mya. “Oh, really. Do tell.”

“It’s simple, really,” Mya stood up and gestured towards them both. “You and Buffy should get together and brainstorm.”

“Brainstorm what?” Buffy asked, walking towards the fridge and retrieving a Coke.

“What you can do. About the impending jail…thing,” Mya waved a hand half-heartedly.

“I have no ideas. I’m idealess,” Buffy responded. “I’m really not all that useful, you know. ’Specially now I can’t even slay. I’m pretty much without use.”

Spike nodded. “And everyone knows I’m just a pretty face.”

Mya clapped her hands together. “Sounds perfect! Let’s say tonight, at our place. I’ll make myself scarce. It’s a date! A studious, totally professional date! Excellence!”

Spike turned to Buffy and rolled his eyes as Mya grinned at her own brilliance.

“Maybe Willow should be here for this. She’s usually good with ideas,” Spike said as he watched Buffy sit down on the arm of the couch.

Buffy nodded. “She is. But then that would defeat the object of your daughter’s diabolical plan to get us alone together.”

He slugged his beer and pointed at her. “Good point.”

“And yet, here we are. Doing exactly as she planned. What does that make us?”

“Automatons.”

“Idiots.”

“Just plain sexy?” Spike offered.

Buffy nodded. “I can work with that.”

They both grinned and Spike settled into the armchair. Mya’s motives may have been a little skewed but he had to agree that maybe this would be a good chance to try and come up with ideas to get Buffy out of the mess she was in. You put Spike and Buffy in a room together and they’re bound to come up with a plan! Or, maybe just destroy the room. But he had no plans on doing that. None whatsoever.

“What’re you thinking?” Buffy asked.

He blinked. “Wondering what to do.”

“We could get some Super Soakers and have a water fight,” she smiled then frowned suddenly. “They do still have those, right??”

“Buffy,” he said warningly.

She sighed. “Yeah. I get it. This is serious.”

“Once we clear your name of murder, we can fight with water. And pillows,” Spike told her. “But until that time – we should keep our minds on the task at hand.”

Buffy pulled a face. “Water and pillows? Weird. Anyway, I think its simple enough – he was a vampire, not a human. Ergo – no murder charge. The End.”

“Buffy,” he said again in that same tone.

“Oh, fine,” she huffed sliding down onto the couch and folding her arms. “What do you suggest?”

He sat forward and looked her in the eyes. “We have to prove you were in that dimension for thirty years. And…I have no idea how to do that.”

Buffy sat forward too and rested her chin on her hands. They both sat like that for a long while, looking at each other across the coffee table. Buffy was drawing blanks on ideas and finding herself much more drawn to the colour of his eyes. She’d never seen eyes like that anywhere else.

Spike spoke suddenly. “We’ve obviously got the testimony of people who knew you who can say you went missing all those years and haven’t aged. Me, Willow, Xander…but that’s not enough. That doesn’t prove you weren’t in this dimension all that time. If only someone who was in that place could testify for you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Buffy nodded. “’Cept there was no one there. It was just an empty desert. Just me and the Shadowmen of Doom.”

His eyes brightened. Making her stare at them even more. “Maybe we could get one of them to –”

“Oh yeah, Spike. I’m sure they’d be real keen to traipse out of their little sandy getaway to give evidence for me in court,” Buffy sat back, slumping into the couch.

Spike wasn’t about to relent though. “Why not? From what I’ve researched they’re not evil beings. They created the First Slayer, what’s to say they won’t help?”

“They tried to force-feed me a demon.”

“Okay, that was…misguided,” he nodded. “But –”

“Misguided? Spike! Demon! Down my throat!” Buffy threw her hands up.

Spike nodded. “I know! But they were doing it to help! To make you stronger so that you could face the First Evil, right?”

Buffy said nothing.

“So – misguided, but not evil.”

Buffy snorted. “Even so, I really doubt they’d take time out of their busy chanting schedule to be character witnesses for me. I’m just one Slayer.”

“You’re the Slayer. And if they wanted to help before…”

“Against the ultimate evil, Spike,” Buffy pointed out. “Not the evil of a courtroom.”

Spike grunted and slumped back in his own chair. It was slump-fest. They both stared at each other now, frustrated and angry. Not at each other, but at the situation itself. Buffy shook her head and stood, walking over to the kitchen, just to get away. Spike watched her the whole time.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he said quietly.

Buffy leant against the counter with her back to him. “I know.”

She stared at the tiles on the wall and thought about his idea. Even if they could get the Shadowmen involved somehow, what’s to say it wouldn’t take another thirty years to get them out of the portal? By that time she’d be totally old and in jail. Or dead. And there’d be no point. Besides, the Shadowmen were mystical beings who didn’t care about her and her trivial human problems. Also they were kind of mean.

She was so busy thinking about all of this, all this mess, that she didn’t hear Spike walk up behind her. Only realised he was there when he placed his hand beside hers on the counter, his chest brushing against her back. She turned rigid for only a moment before she relaxed. Moved her little finger just enough that it touched his.

Spike spoke softly. “I was never the brains of the group.”

“No,” Buffy looked down at the counter. “But I liked your brawn.”

He laughed, his lips close to her ear. “Really?”

“Yeah. It was good brawn.”

Spike laughed again and Buffy pressed herself into the counter to stop moving backwards into him, or worse, turning around and facing him. She couldn’t look at him when she felt like this. She didn’t even know what she was feeling. Spike would know, he always knew, and she couldn’t let him work it out before she herself did.

“Buffy,” he said in a low, rumbling voice.

She stared at the tiles. “Yeah?”

But he didn’t say anything.

Instead they stayed silent and Buffy could hear her breathing getting a little too erratic. He would hear it; he would hear her blood pumping. He was made that way.

Just as she thought about making an escape, he leaned down and placed a kiss upon her shoulder.
Buffy blew out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding; his lips were cool through the material of her shirt. Almost as soon as he had done it he was apologising for it. She didn’t understand why. She didn’t see what he had to be sorry for. When he made a move to leave she hitched her little finger onto his to stop him. He still could have gone if he had wanted to. He stayed where he was. Right behind her, like he always had been.

She leant back into him giving in to the urge to do so. Her back against the solidness of his chest with his heart not beating and hers beating too fast. Spike sighed softly and she closed her eyes, content to just be near him.

It occurred to her that in her time, at her house, surrounded by Potentials…they could never have done this. Not just because they never had many moments to themselves but also because they were constantly being judged, being monitored. As if they were children. As if they couldn’t make their own decisions. Buffy resented that. Sure, they had a history. Part of it was a bad, terrible history. This she could not deny. Nor did she want to. However, the more important fact was that she had moved past it. She’d moved past the things…the mistakes…they’d both made. And her friends would never have understood that. At least here, in this future, she was free to pursue…whatever the hell it was she wanted Spike to be to her. It was just between the two of them.

She trusted Spike. Even after their past. That had to mean something. A big something.

“Your mind’s going a mile a minute,” Spike whispered in her ear.

She opened her eyes. “How do you always know?”

“I don’t,” he was smiling, she could tell. “I’m just a good guesser.”

Buffy grinned. “What am I thinking now?”

He paused as if thinking. “I don’t think I can repeat that without getting arrested for lewd conduct.”

Buffy laughed warmly and then quieted, voice serious. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Gotta keep your modesty intact.”

She smiled but shook her head. “No. I mean for everything.”

“It was nothing.”

Buffy did turn around to face him then, trapped between the counter and his body, their faces close. She looked him in the eye and saw that he meant it. He really thought that everything he had done for her since she came back, and probably before then, was nothing.

“It was everything,” she placed her hand on top of his on the counter, his skin cold and smooth. “So, thank you.”

Spike’s gaze ticked down to their hands and then back up to her face. “Anytime,” he said rakishly.

And there it was. He still didn’t get it. Still thought she was being…what, polite? He should have known better. For one thing, she was rarely polite and for another, he meant something to her.

“I want you to know that I’m proud of you, Spike.”

He frowned then arched an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For doing something good with your life. For fighting evil and for looking after Mya. For being a friend to Angel, for helping Faith and…for looking out for me,” Buffy said, looking at the floor because she couldn’t look at him as she said perhaps one of the most important things. “For everything.”

Spike seemed to be uncomfortable with the attention because his feet shifted as if he was going to move away. Buffy looked up and he looked more scared than uncomfortable. Like he was scared of her, of what she might say next, or maybe that she was toying with him.

“Spike,” she said, he started to step backwards but she caught his tie in her hand and pulled him back into her. “Don’t.”

Reaching one hand up she traced her finger along the sloping line of his cheek and then drew the tip along his bottom lip slowly. He had such soft lips, so betraying of his tough guy image. Or, once tough guy image.

“Buffy,” he murmured.

“Come here,” she whispered.

He didn’t move. Just looked at her, unsure. So, she took action. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so sure she wanted this now, but she did know. Hand still firmly holding his tie she pulled him closer. Their foreheads rested together and Buffy closed her eyes, feeling at home for the first time since she had arrived in this brave new world.

Spike’s hand moved slowly up her arm to rest on her shoulder. “You’re vulnerable, we shouldn’t –”

“Don’t even,” she opened her eyes.

“Buffy, you’ve been gone for thirty years, everything has changed,” he looked flustered.

Something occurred to her. Something she hadn’t wanted to think too deeply about.

She tilted her head, watching him. “Do you not…want to?”

He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated and that was enough to shake her confidence completely. She let go and pushed past him.

“God, how stupid am I? Of course you wouldn’t,” she started to flee.

“No, Buffy –”

“I’m an idiot,” she kept going. “I have to just leave and –"

She never did get to finish what she was saying, because at that moment Spike grasped her by the shoulders and slammed his lips down upon hers.

Before Buffy could even really begin to realise that Spike was kissing her he wasn’t anymore. In fact he was halfway towards the front door trying to make his getaway. She frowned and ran after him.

“Spike!”

When he didn’t stop she sped up and slammed the door closed just as he was starting to open it. He turned to her and the look on his face stopped her. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him looking quite so confused and so…sad. He looked utterly devastated and she didn’t understand why.

“Where are you going?” She asked carefully.

Spike shrugged. “I have to work this out.”

“Work what out? Us?”

He shook his head. “No. How to get them to drop the charges against you. It’s the only thing I can think about right now.”

With that he pulled the door open again and practically ran through it. Buffy looked out at the dark night sky and at his back getting further and further away. She hesitated for a moment and then went out after him, walking fast on bare feet and with a slight warm breeze blowing around her.

“So, that’s it? You kiss me and then you run,” Buffy called out after him. “Don’t you think we need to talk about this? About all of this?”

Spike didn’t turn back to look at her, just continued towards his car. “I need to find that useless lawyer of yours and form some sort of contingency plan, Buffy. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!” She yelled, coming to a stop.

Spike too came to a stop, back to her. He sighed heavily, car keys jangling in his hand. Buffy hated this, hated that she was apparently such a burden on him. She didn’t mean to come back and make his life complicated again. She didn’t mean to come back to this at all because she had never wanted to leave in the first place.

He did turn and face her then, shoulders dipped. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“You are?” Buffy asked, voice low.

“It…just makes things harder than they need to be,” Spike said then pulled a face. “I don’t mean harder as in literally harder, what with –”

“Spike, don’t.” She folded her arms around herself, eyes facing the ground. “Let’s just…go back and –”

He shook his head. “Can’t. Gotta go see a man about a murder charge.”

“Will you just forget about that for one second?” Buffy threw her hands up.

Spike’s jaw tensed. “Will you just remember that for one second? It is a life changing event you know.”

She shrugged. “It’s not important to me.”

“Well, it is to me!”

“If I go down then I go down,” Buffy replied easily. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.”

Spike glared at her. “With an attitude like that we’re not goin’ to get anywhere.”

“We? This is me, Spike. You won’t be put in jail, I will,” she pointed out. “I don’t know why you care so much.”

His glare deepened. “That’s a stupid thing to say.”

“From a stupid girl. A girl who is stupid enough to believe that vampires are evil and that they’re not human. A girl who thinks they need to be slayed. A stupid little Slayer. That’s what I am. What I’ll always be,” Buffy said. “And it’s what I’ll say in court.”

Buffy lifted her in chin in defiance.

“Only maybe not the stupid part,” she added.

Spike looked at her, face blank. “All of us evil. Need a good kicking. A good staking.”

“Spike,” Buffy scowled. “I don’t mean you.”

He frowned. “Well, what’s the difference? I’m still a vampire, Buffy. A suit and a tie doesn’t change that.”

She sighed. “You’re different. You always have been.”

“I’ve killed. I’ve enjoyed killing, I’ve bloody revelled in it, in fact.” Spike reminded her. “So how am I different at all?”

She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to justify what she felt. She just knew that when it came to vampires she had to slay them. Spike was different, he just was. There wasn’t any particular reason for it. She knew he was different and in some ways he always had been. He’d loved Drusilla, actually loved her. Something she had thought vampires were incapable of. But she had been wrong. Believing that of all vampires was a pretty big step though and one that she couldn’t easily take. Didn’t think she ever would take. She’d seen too much of the evil and the hurt their kind had spread.

You couldn’t change a whole species. Not in thirty years.

Spike smiled bitterly. “I guess the silence says it all.”

“Anything I say you won’t believe,” Buffy shrugged. “You’re so intent on running away from me.”

“I don’t want to make things any more –”

“Complicated. You said. You seem to be forgetting it was you who kissed me, not the other way around.”

“That was a mistake.”

Buffy paused, then looked away. “Thanks.”

And there it was. This was a mistake. All of it a mistake. She shouldn’t have even been here, at least not like this. She should have been older, living on a farm with a dog named Yorkie and a modest herd of sheep. That or dead. She shouldn’t have been here intruding on Spike’s life, messing up the calm he’d worked so hard to achieve. It was against the natural order of things. She had stepped out of his world for thirty years; she couldn’t just step back in.

That much was now very clear.

“Buffy,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean…there’ll be time for all this after.”

She looked back at him. “Maybe I should just go back into that portal, save you the trouble.”

Spike stared at her for a long moment before he threw his head back and let out a short burst of laughter. It wasn’t happy laughter. He shook his head and clenched his fists. Buffy watched him as he seemed to be fighting an internal struggle but she didn’t know what for. Maybe he wanted to hit her, maybe he wanted to just leave. In the end he settled for kicking the shit out of his car. His foot lashed out viper-quick and slammed into the passenger door of the vehicle, causing the metal to screech and tent inwards.

Buffy jumped and the car alarm screeched into life.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Spike growled through clenched teeth.

It was her turn to be angry. “Well, I did. Face it, Spike. If I wasn’t here things would be so much easier for you.”

“Yeah, great!” He snarled. “It would be so easy. So easy to be stuck here wondering what happened to you for the rest of my life, wouldn’t it?”

She scowled and turned her back on him. She didn’t know what to say to him, she never knew what to say. He was always the guy with the right words. She was inadequate when it came to conveying how she felt.

Buffy heard his feet crunching on the gravel and turned around to see him stalking off into the night. “Hey! Where are you going? We’re fighting here!”

“I’ve got things to do.”

She ran after him and around in front of him, halting his steps. “Hello, we’re in the middle of something. You can’t just run away.”

“Like you always did, you mean?”

“Oh. I see.” She folded her arms. “So this is about the past.”

Spike shrugged. “All we have is the past.”

Buffy blanched. “Right.”

And there it was again. She was past, they were past. He’d moved on. He’d married and had a child and here she was – the same insecure bitch-monster Buffy. How she could have expected him to want to be around her for anything – even friendship – was beyond her. It was presumptuous and foolish. Knowing Spike he’d probably concocted some ideal image of her he’d had in his mind and she’d come back and sullied that. After all, she’d never been near perfect.

“I’m…I’m going to go back home. To Faith’s, I mean,” she said evenly, turning on her heel.

Spike let out a grunt. “Buffy, please. I’m saying everything wrong.”

“I think I understand you well enough,” the Slayer trudged back to his house to retrieve her shoes, car alarm still wailing loudly.

She stepped into the empty house and proceeded to search for the missing footwear. Spike didn’t follow her in, for all she knew he’d gone. She knelt on the floor by the couch and just closed her eyes for a moment. Had to gather herself up, keep it all in. A kiss between them meant nothing anymore, obviously. He had changed and she had not.

Buffy left the house and found that he hadn’t gone. He stood leaning against his car, which he had managed to silence.

“Let me give you a lift.”

She shook her head. “I feel like walking.”

“Buffy,” he said wearily. “I just…”

She continued on past him.

Spike grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. “Listen to me. I just don’t want to fall into old habits.”

Buffy looked him in the eyes as she shook her arm free. “I get it. I gotta go.”

“Obviously you don’t get it,” he snorted, darting around in front of her as she tried to leave. “I…still feel…things for you, Buffy. Things I cannot begin to deal with. Not until all this is sorted.”

She tilted her head and studied him for a long while. He felt ‘things’ for her. What in the hell did that mean? That sounded more like something she’d say than the ever-poetic Spike. It was very clear what he didn’t mean though – he didn’t mean love. She shouldn’t have expected it after all this time. She’d never really wanted it from him in the first place.

“I gotta go,” the Slayer moved around and past him, feeling his eyes watching her the whole time.


+ + +


Buffy was still mid-way through decided exactly how big of an idiot she was as she walked home, not paying much attention to her surroundings, when she heard footfalls behind her. She tensed up slightly but continued on guardedly.

“Buffy Summers,” a voice sing-songed.

Sing-song voices usually weren’t a good sign.

She turned around slowly and carefully, raising her fists in a defensive gesture. Ready for even the slightest inkling of attack.
The man stood in plain sight, in plain clothes and was overall fairly…plain. Tall, broad chest, greying blonde hair, with a familiar look about him. And a nice smile, for an old guy.

“Who’re you and what do you want?”

He shook his head but the smile remained. “Don’t recognise me? Can’t blame you. Not all of us have aged as gracefully as you, Buffy.” The man took a step forward. “The name is Riley.”

He held his hand out.

“Riley Finn.”

Spike watched as Mya stirred her tea around and around. He sighed, leaning forward in the worn armchair. Norman paced the room anxiously, his way of trying to figure out a solution. There wasn’t one. This whole thing had no solution, it would end badly. That was plain to see. And Buffy didn’t care.

Or at least she didn’t seem to but she’d always held her cards close to her chest. He used to be able to read her better but maybe too much time had passed and he’d grown complacent. Or maybe he was just an idiot.

That seemed more likely.

“Faith says she’s not there,” Willow announced as she hung up the phone.

Spike looked up, brow creased. “She left ages ago.”

The literal truth of that statement hung in the air for a long time before anyone spoke.

“Great,” Xander scowled. “She’s probably in trouble.”

Spike knew he blamed him for this too. He was right. He should have insisted on giving her a lift home. But when it came to Buffy he never could insist on anything.

Mya shrugged. “Or maybe she just needs some time. Things have gotta be tough on her.”

Willow nodded. “She always did like to be alone when stuff got too much.”

Spike shook his head and loosened the knot in his tie. Maybe the reason she liked to be alone when faced with difficult times was because she felt she had no one to talk to. He’d always been there. He still was and she should have been able to talk to him. He’d messed it all up by kissing her.

He always messed it up.

“Anyway,” Mya cleared her throat. “We can help by figuring out this court case thing.”

Norman stopped pacing. “You’re right. We have excellent character witnesses, we have The Council’s backing, we have…”

“We have nothing,” Spike muttered.

Xander stood up, looking out of the window of the hotel room. “Buffy will pull through, she always does.”

“We can’t rely on hope,” the vampire scowled. “She’s got nothing!”

Xander whirled around. “She’s got us!”

The fire in the man’s eyes was something Spike hadn’t seen in a long time. Funny how it took Buffy’s return to get everyone to wake up. Xander looked as though he wanted to punch Spike and Spike was glad. It meant he still really did care about Buffy. And Buffy needed all the help she could get.

Mya stood up, putting herself
between them. “Xander’s right. She has all of you and from the way I heard it, you guys always pulled through.”

“That was a long time ago,” Spike looked down at the floor. “And all the evidence is against her. We never had to face the law. It was demons and monsters we were good against.”

Xander shrugged. “If that’s what you think then why don’t you just leave this to us?”

“Xander,” Willow warned him. “Let’s all just calm down. The Council still has a lot of power and if they’re willing to back Buffy then she has a good shot.”

“H.U has a lot of power too and they’ll fight it to the end,” Spike reminded her.

“I guess you’d know,” Xander slumped down into a chair. “Being one of them.”

Spike snorted. “Firstly, I quit and secondly - am I supposed to be ashamed? They’re the good guys.”

He gave him a hard look. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

Willow held a hand up. “Guys, can we not? This isn’t about H.U or ethics or whatever. This is about Buffy.”

“But, essentially,” Norman spoke but he seemed to be deep in thought. “It is about ethics. Buffy killed a man.”

“She killed a demon.” Xander protested.

“A man protected by our laws and rights. We have many witnesses to the murder. Buffy doesn’t deny it.”

“She thought he was trying to hurt a little girl.”

Norman nodded. “And perhaps that’s where we start. We offer Buffy up as a protector. Trained to be a protector for many years. She has the great need to save people.”

Willow nodded too. “Yeah! That’s right. Buffy is all about the saving.”

“Maybe that would justify her assaulting the guy, but not killing him,” Spike noted. “And none of the witnesses will testify that he was doing anything wrong. Just playing with his daughter.”

Xander shook his head, angry. “That girl was not his daughter.”

“So, they weren’t related. That means nothing. It means less than nothing.” Mya said steadily and he ducked his head.

“The only way Buffy has a chance with this is if we can prove she was in another dimension for all those years,” Spike sighed. “And we can’t prove that.”

Willow frowned then brightened. “Unless…unless we show them.”

“Huh?” Mya contributed.

Spike watched her, understanding. “You mean we open the portal?”

“We open the portal.”

+ + +

Buffy gave a closer look to the man in front of her, sceptically. The longer she looked at him the more she saw it. The broadness of shoulders, the laughter lines around his eyes, the gleaming white teeth and all-American smile. The soft grey sweater he wore matched the speckles of grey entwined in his once golden hair, the battered jeans and sneakers…it was so Riley. It was older Riley but still Riley. And, god, he was so tall. Too tall.

He let his hand drop. “Buffy, it’s me.”

“I…know,” she managed. “I just didn’t expect to see you here.”

Riley smiled earnestly. “I could say the same thing to you.”

She didn’t know what to say. It was Riley and he was here and that was strange and not expected at all. But then nothing ever was. He took a step towards her and she found herself stepping back, not entirely sure why. A slightly hurt look flashed across his face.

He stepped back. “It’s alright. You’ve been through a lot. But, hey, I don’t see a single grey hair on you. Lucky for some.”

She touched her hair self-consciously then looked away. “How come you’re here, Riley?”

“Things are brewing in Sunnydale,” he shrugged, looked up at the starry sky.

Buffy folded her arms. “Things are always brewing in Sunnydale. What’s happened now?”

He looked down at her. “You.”

“What does that mean?”

“We heard about the trial. About what you’re up against,” Riley told her.

She frowned. “We? We who?”

“H.F.H.”

Her frown deepened. It rang a bell. People, ever since she had come back, had been mentioning that name. It was always floating around in the background. A casual mention here and there. Now that she thought more about it she realised she’d seen it written too. Graffiti all over the town. Just the way the word was spoken made her believe it couldn’t be a good thing. She wanted to know what it was. So she asked.

“What’s that?”

Riley pushed his hands into his pockets. “A group. We call ourselves Humans For Humans.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just a name but we are a cause. A worthy one.”

She looked at him, tilted her head. “A cause for what? Human supremacy? Death to all other species?”

“We believe that vampires are not humans,” he replied. “It’s a view I thought you shared.”

She shifted from foot to foot. “I do.”

Riley inclined his head. “We could help, Buffy. This crime you’re on trial for…it’s not even a crime. That vampire was evil. You did what was right.”

“And you could help how?”

“Join us, patrol with us,” he said quietly. “And we’ll keep you safe.”

Buffy looked at him. “So, in other words…go underground? Hide for the rest of my life?”

“Can you honestly tell me you’ll ever stop being a Slayer? That if you’re proven innocent of this, you wont just go right out again and stake another vampire? It’s who you are. It’s what you do,” he said.

She looked at him for a long moment. “You’re right.”

Riley smiled. “So, are you in?”

Buffy considered it. In a world where very little made sense maybe Riley’s group would be like stepping into the past. Fighting vampires, doing what she’d been destined to do. He was right; she didn’t think vampires were humans. They were demons. They were evil.

“I can’t,” she said.

But she owed it to her friends, to Spike, to everyone, to try and fit in with this world. She had seen that some vampires had the capacity for good. Spike, Angel, even Faith. If they were capable of suppressing their demons then maybe, just maybe, one day other vampires could be like that. It wasn’t something she was terribly optimistic about happening but the very fact that there was a slight possibility of it gave her enough pause. H.U. seemed to be pointing things in the right direction and maybe it would be right of her to step back and let them do their thing. Make no mistake; if any vampire even looked like they were slipping into their old ways then Buffy would be there in a heartbeat. But maybe the future deserved the chance of being slay-free. If vampires weren’t killing anymore then no new vampires would rise. Their numbers would decrease and Buffy would have a lot less to worry about.

She could see the positive in that.

“Buffy, I know you’ve had feelings for vampires in the past,” Riley said. “But you can’t deny they’re demons.”

She shook her head. “I’m not. But not all demons are bad, Riley.”

“They kill people, Buffy! Vampires kill people.”

“Yes. They do. People also kill people,” Buffy replied. “If I see a vampire harming someone, I’ll kill them. But I won’t go vigilante. I can’t. I have people who need me and who I need.”

Riley folded his arms. “Spike.”

“Not just Spike.”

“Giles would have –”

Buffy held up a hand. “Giles is gone.”

Just saying it out loud made her feel cold inside but it was something that she needed to do. Her Watcher was dead and she’d never see him again. She’d never see him smile; never see him clean his glasses again. The little things. The important things. It was hard to acknowledge but she did.

Riley at least seemed to understand that she wouldn’t be swayed by talk of Giles and wisely decided to let things be.

He let out a breath. “If you change your mind…”

“I won’t but thank you. For offering. It’s good to see you, Riley.”

He smiled sadly. “It’s nice seeing you too, Buffy.”

“You look good.”

“No, you look good,” he laughed. “I look old.”

Buffy smiled slightly. “You wear it well. How’s Sam?”

“She’s dead,” he said softly, looking at his shoes.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Buffy touched his arm gently. “I didn’t…”

She trailed off and they looked at one another in silence for a long moment.

He rocked on the balls of his feet, looking around. “I better go.”

Buffy nodded, letting go of his arm. “Me too.”

Riley Finn gave her one last charming smile and then turned and walked off into the darkness. Probably to patrol. Like she felt the craving to do. Instead she carried on home. This time.

When Buffy shifted on Faith’s lumpy mattress and opened her eyes she really didn’t expect to see Spike. So, naturally, there he was. Instinctively she threw the blanket up over her head to hide her bedraggled state. God, could the guy be any more unfair? Coming over without any warning and then watching her sleep? They had words for people like that. None of them flattering.

“Please go,” she murmured.

The chair he was sitting on creaked as he moved. “I was worried about you.”

“So you decided to sit right there and corner me before I even had a chance to brush my hair. I’m thankful for your concern,” Buffy closed her eyes and buried her face into the mattress.

“Where were you?”

“I was with my ex.”

There was a sound. “Angel?”

“No,” was all she said.

“…Riley?!”

She turned on her side to face away from his general direction, still safely hidden under the covers. “Well it sure as hell wasn’t Parker.”

There was silence and not much else. Buffy opened her eyes and waited patiently for some sign he was still there. That was the problem with vampires – they could move so quietly, you’d never know. Eventually he let out a useless breath and she heard him stand up. She thought he’d question her more about Riley but then maybe he knew all about him. Them being from opposing groups and all. Just like old times.

“We’re going to open the portal.”

Buffy threw the blanket off. “You’re whatting the what!”

“Willow’s going to open the portal,” Spike replied, looking out of the window, hands in pockets. “Demonstrate where you’ve been.”

She sat up. “Sure, manipulating time and space sounds like a real good idea. It worked out well last time!”

He turned and looked at her then and there was a hard expression on his face. His jaw tight, he spoke. “Then come up with something better, Buffy. Make a suggestion. Help. Do something.”

She looked at him and then had to look away, smoothing her hair down she crawled up and out of bed, plodding to the kitchen area. It was day time and she had no idea where Faith was but she must have let Spike in. Buffy reminded herself to kick Faith for that. She was grouchy in the mornings. And afternoons. And often the evenings too.

“Or don’t,” he muttered to himself, returning his attention to the view out of the window.

Buffy stopped where she was and glanced over her shoulder at him. His posture was rigid, uptight, very reserved. Completely not Spike. In that instance he reminded her of Giles. Giles disappointed in her. She quickly looked away, blinking several times. It was not a good idea to think of her Watcher. Or Dawn. It led to nothing but confusion and hurt and she couldn’t go there. She had to push it back. Save it for another time. When that would be she didn’t know. Just not now.

“Is that why you came here?” She asked, opening the fridge.

“What?”

She pulled a carton of milk out. “To tell me about the portal.”

“No.”

Buffy got some cereal from the cupboard. “Then why?”

“I didn’t have a reason, Buffy.” He said softly. “I just miss seeing you.”

Buffy’s hands halted in the motions she was performing and her spine straightened. She looked down at her toes, cold on the bare kitchen floor. She wished he wouldn’t do this. One minute he was kissing her, then telling her they were in the past and now this. She had the brief fleeting thought that it was exactly how she used to treat him. God, things were confusing.

The Slayer lifted her head but said nothing.

“It’s still a novelty that you’re here at all,” he finished, still looking outside.

She continued making her cereal, awkwardly. “You’ll get bored of me soon enough.”

“One thing you never will be is boring, Buffy.”

She shoved a spoonful into her mouth. “Thanks, I guess.”

Spike turned on his heel to face her. “What did Riley want?”

“To say hello,” she swallowed the cereal. “And invite me to join his vigilante group.”

He didn’t look surprised. “What did you say?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I said I’d totally love to and that you’d be my first slay.”

Spike folded his arms. “The way you feel about vampires, I’d understand…”

“There are more important things,” she said ambiguously.

He nodded. “Get dressed. I want to show you something.”


+ + +


When Spike pulled up outside a very ornate looking cemetery a dull ache appeared low in Buffy’s stomach and she didn’t want to get out of the car. Spike looked over at her and must have seen something on her face because he reached over and touched her hand lightly before getting out. Grudgingly, Buffy unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the passenger door, stepping out into the bright Californian sunshine. She glanced over at the vampire shielding his eyes as he walked up to the gates. It was still strange to see Spike in the light. At least without the Gem of Amara on his finger and him punching her in the face.

He pressed a button on the wall and the wrought iron gates began to open inwards slowly, granting them access to the graveyard. Buffy hung back beside the car, warm breeze shifting the floaty skirt she was wearing. She felt wrongly dressed to go and pay a visit to the dead. She didn’t want to go in. She really didn’t.

Spike stood waiting for her patiently. Sighing, she looked down the road and wondered if it really was that far to walk back home. Shifting on her feet Buffy shook her head and walked slowly towards where he was. He pulled an encouraging face that really served to only make her feel worse. This was a bad idea.

Once she had reached level with him he started to walk and she followed a couple of steps behind. The cemetery was the kind with lots of greenery, trees that would probably look all nice and serene if it wasn’t for the fact that this was a place of death. She hated cemeteries. The pathway they walked was gravel that crunched beneath her stupid sandals.

Spike clearly had a specific spot in mind and he moved with a purpose. Buffy began to drag her feet and fell back a little further. They came to a sort of tunnel that held plaques on both sides. The walls were white marble, the plaques polished silver. Each plaque held just a name and nothing else. She noticed Spike instinctively ran his hand along one particular one but carried on past it without looking. Buffy did look. Claire Pratt. All she could think for a moment was Spike’s last name is Pratt? And then she pushed it out of her thoughts and continued on.

Spike came to a stop near the end of the tunnel. His gaze fixed on the plaques in front of him. With a sense of dread Buffy came to stand beside him. There were three names on the wall that she recognised. The most important three names she would ever know. Joyce Summers. Dawn Summers. Rupert Giles.

“Thought it best to keep ’em together,” he said.

Buffy remained fixed on the names. “Yes.”

She didn’t say anything else, couldn’t think anything else to say. To think that these had all been people she loved unconditionally and now they were just names on a wall. They’d all died needlessly. Not that there was ever a need for it. The last time she’d seen Dawn she had been helping to open the portal that took Buffy away from her life for all those years. Now she’d never see her again. And she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d spent with Giles. It had all gotten jumbled up. She was angry at herself for not remembering.

She was already starting to forget things about them. Could barely remember the scent of her mother’s perfume.

Buffy turned abruptly on her heel and paced quickly back the way they had come. She heard Spike calling her name but didn’t respond, just kept walking, her sandals slapping loudly on the cold floor of the tunnel. Soon she was outside and making her way back through the main cemetery, kicking up gravel as she went.
The Slayer felt the overwhelming need to run. She couldn’t handle cemeteries in the daytime. At night they were nothing but a place to hunt demons but by day they held too much significance, peppered with the cloying scent of human grief.

She reached the gates and came to a stop, holding onto one of them with a death grip.

Spike appeared beside her. “You alright?”

“Why…” teeth gritted she spoke, “…why did you bring me here?”

“Thought you might like to see them.”

“That’s not them,” Buffy replied.

He nodded. “No, it’s not. Still. I find it helps.”

“Well it doesn’t help me,” she looked at him with hard eyes. “I’m not like you. I can’t deal with this. I need to keep it…away.”

Spike put his hands in his pockets and sighed. “They’re gone, Buffy. You have to accept that and work through it. I want to help.”

She moved away from the gate and towards the road. “I don’t have to do anything. They’re dead, Spike. I’m well aware of that, okay? Just leave it.”

He pressed the button on the wall to shut the gates and the followed after her, walking towards his car. He seemed to realise eventually that she wasn’t heading for the car and instead came to a halt as he watched her plunk down on the curb. Spike paused for a moment longer and then sat down next to her, car keys jangling in his hand.

“You’ve lost a lot of people in your lifetime,” Spike acknowledged. “People you love. So have I. It never gets any easier.”

She looked down at her toes peaking through her sandals. “So, how do you…deal? Keep on going? ’Cos I keep thinking – If just one more person I care about gets hurt, gets…gone…I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Spike nodded. “And you’ll always feel that way.”

“Great,” Buffy muttered.

“It’s part of what makes you human,”

She looked sideways at him. “Don’t you mean humanoid? I mean, that’s what you are now, right? And you feel things. Things a demon shouldn’t feel. You care when people die.”

“I think you’ll find most species tend to care about death,” he replied. “Even vampires. Or yeah, if we’re being pc, humanoids. The ability to take the hits, weather the storm, and still see it through to the end – that’s what makes you what you are. And me. All of us. Whatever. I’m getting sentimental now and that’s never a good look. Shall we go?”

Buffy nodded. “Yes, please.”

He stood up and offered her his hand. She took it and stood. She didn’t let go and he glanced at her questioningly for a moment before starting back to the car.

“Anything gets too much…with Faith, or the trial or anything – you let me know, okay?” He said to her as he unlocked the door and opened it for her.

She slid onto the seat. “Sure.”

He gave her a look that clearly said he could see right through her. He knew she wouldn’t confide in him about how scared and confused she was. Buffy wished she could, she wished she could share that vulnerable side of herself with him or with anyone but she couldn’t. She never would. She just wasn’t made that way.

Spike got into the car beside her and pulled away.

Almost immediately a loud buzzing sound filled the car and Buffy frowned in annoyance. Spike sighed and shifted around on the seat strangely.

“What is that?”

Spike kept his hands on the steering wheel. “My phone. Sod it, let it ring.”

“I’ll get it. Where is it?”

“In my pocket. Just leave it.”

“It might be important.” She reached over and slid her hand across his thigh.

Spike jumped violently and the car swerved to the left. “Buffy! Hang on; I’ll put it into auto drive.”

“Spike, I’m getting it,” she pulled the phone from his pocket and pressed the answer button, holding it to her ear. “Hello, Spike’s phone.”

“Oh…hello,” a somewhat confused male voice said on the other line. “Is Spike around?”

Buffy reclined in her seat. “He is. May I ask who is calling?”

“Yeah…it’s Michael. From work.”

Buffy looked at Spike who was eyeing her warily. “Michael. From work.”

He held out his hand for the phone and she gave him a bright smile and slapped the handset into his palm. Spike held the phone to his ear and said hello. Buffy could hear a muffled conversation from the other end of the phone.

The vampire glanced at her but spoke to Michael. “…Buffy…yes…oh, shut up. What do you want?”

Buffy tried to figure out what was being said but gave up about halfway through and instead turned and looked out the window.

“Bloody hell. Yeah, alright. Cheers.” Spike hung up the phone and placed his hands back on the steering wheel.

She didn’t look at him when she said, “Let me guess; they can’t do without you and they want you back. For the record I think you should do it. Go back. It seemed like you really liked –”

“Buffy, it was nothing like that. God, I wish it was in comparison,” he sighed staring straight ahead. “He was giving me some warning. The trial…or the preliminary meeting, it’s the day after tomorrow.”

Buffy turned and met his eyes. He looked worried, really worried.

Buffy sat in front of Cain Travers and tried to keep the petulant look from her face. It wasn’t easy but she just about pulled it off. Spike had told her to dress up nice for the arrogant teen. She hadn’t been able to keep the petulant look from her face that time. Still, she had taken his instruction and made a little effort to look more presentable – like a valuable employee. Spike had decided she needed to make a good impression when Cain had summoned her for the meet. The vampire said she’d need all the help she could get. Buffy didn’t like to admit he was right.

The boy was leaning forward on the desk, not looking very impressed. “In order for me to back you 100% in this, you’re going to have to give me somethin’ in return.”

Buffy snorted, not missing his implications. “Yeah. Never gonna happen, kid.”

“Not remotely interested,” Cain sneered. “I’m talkin’ commitment. Need to know you’re loyal to us.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You’ve quit in the past. Disowned us, if you will,” he held a hand to his chest and looked at her. “That hurt.”

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “Oops?”

“Fact is; The Council doesn’t know you aren’t just goin’ to drop us like a sack of shit once we save your arse. We need your word, Summers.” He sat back comfortably in his chair, the desk separating them.

She nodded. “Sure. Which word would you like? I’ve got lots. Some of them even have more than one syllable.”

“You’re playing a game that you’re in no position to win, love.”

Buffy knew he was right and knew that if Spike was with them he’d have been saying the exact same thing. Telling her to go along with whatever Travers wanted. She needed to shake the attitude and start trying to dig herself out of this hole she’d somehow gotten stuck in. If that meant being nice to this little prick, she guessed she could do that.

“You have my word,” Buffy said simply.

Cain eyed her sceptically. “That’ll do. For now. There’s somethin’ else I need from you too.”

“Of course there is,” she replied, keeping her scowl to a minimum.

“I need to know what you can do. I’ve read the Diaries but they’re just words. I need to see it. You’re older than most Slayers,” he smiled. “You might be rusty. I need to know I’m investing in something I can actually use.”

She didn’t like the phrasing. Didn’t like the suggestion that she was just something he owned, a tool to do his bidding. Except really, that’s all she was. Just another weapon. Still – she could go along with it, for a little while at least. She knew when to be defiant and when to feign allegiance. He had said before that he’d support her in the trial but if she really wanted him to help all he possibly could she’d had to do as he asked and prove her worth.

“What do you want me to do?”

Cain’s smile widened. “I’m glad you asked.”


+ + +


Cain took her to a building on the other side of town. The Council’s one floor office was obviously too small for what he had in mind. The thought didn’t fill Buffy with a lot of confidence. When they pulled up outside the large brick building in his ridiculously fast car, she took a breath and got out. Cain didn’t bother to lock the car and instead bounced up the steps to the front door, beckoning her to hurry up.

She sighed and followed at a slow pace. He pushed the door which opened readily. Buffy followed him in, wearily. As he closed the door behind her she took in the big empty space. The wooden floor was polished and marked with lots of different colour lines arching in all directions. She recognised that the place had once been used as a gym. Now it was just the shell of a gym. The place looked like it hadn’t been used in a few years, at least. The insanely huge windows kept the place brightly lit and Buffy watched dust motes fly through the beams of light streaming through the glass.

“What is this?” She asked.

Cain took a step in. “Time for your test to begin. I will be takin’ notes so behave yourself, girl.” He went to stand in one corner.

As Buffy was about to question further and possibly punch him in the face a girl appeared from a side door. She went to stand over the opposite side of the hall. She was dressed simply in sweats and a tank top, barefoot. Long chestnut hair pulled back tightly in a ponytail, her dark eyes met Buffy’s and she bowed.

Buffy wasn’t surprised. Of course it would be a fight. It always was. She shed her jacket and tossed it aside along with her boots. Tight jeans and a halter neck top weren’t the best fighting garb but she’d worn worse. She’d never forget that one time with the cat-suit.

“Begin,” Cain said.

Then he was promptly forgotten.The girl ran across the floor, which was at least the length of a basketball court, at full speed. Her gaze was focused and intent. Buffy wondered, as she approached, what she was. There was no way Cain would put a human up against her. So she must have been a vampire. Or a demon of some sort. A shifter maybe. She had no more time to think because the girl was only a few feet away now and leapt up in the air quite unexpectedly.

Buffy just managed to dodge sideways as a slender foot hit the air where her face had previously been. The Slayer rolled over the floor and up into a standing position, turning back to her attacker.

The girl had followed her movements and was on the offensive again, coming after her with several sharp punches aimed at her face and torso. Buffy blocked each one fairly easily, the impacts on her arms were hard though and she had no doubt she would bruise. The girl was strong, whatever she was.

She was also fast because she’d dropped down and swept the legs out from Buffy before she’d had time to react. The Slayer tumbled ungraciously to the floor and the girl was on her before she had even recovered. She straddled Buffy and landed a hard punch to her cheekbone that Buffy didn’t appreciate. When she tried again Buffy sat up and head butted her with as much force as she could muster.

The girl toppled off her and hit the floor with a thud. Buffy sat up and rubbed her own forehead – it hurt like a bitch. Head butting will do that to you. She stood up and then reached down and grabbed the girl by the front of her top, pulling her up she spun her around and let go. She hit the wall bodily and slumped down onto the floor, unconscious.

She took a deep breath, letting her heartbeat slow. Her head was throbbing. Without looking at him she said. “We done?”

“Hardly,” Cain replied.

“Figures,” Buffy pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail with the band around her wrist.

She waited for her next opponent whilst looking at the girl she had already defeated. For some reason she seemed familiar…or similar, if that even made sense. She couldn’t place it, so she didn’t even try.
From the same door the first test had come from came the second test. This time there were two. Both female, again. Both dressed like they were ready for a fight. Both faces cold and without hate, just ready. Like any good fighter.
One girl had long red hair, the other blonde. The redhead stepped forward and motioned her to come and get them. Buffy smiled and shook her head, returned the motion. You come get me.

It all just felt so stupid. She shouldn’t have to do this kind of thing anymore. She’d proven herself a long time ago. Still, she readied herself in a defensive stance and kept her focus. It wouldn’t do to get arrogant.

The redhead’s lips quirked in a smile and she nodded. The two of them approached slowly, cautiously. Good for them. Buffy watched them like a caged tiger. She was the predator here, not the prey. As she expected, they split up and walked around her in a circle, one always in front of her and the other always behind. It was a rookie move. Or a classic, depending on how you looked at it.

Buffy remained patient. Making the first attack would be a mistake. It was what they wanted and Buffy didn’t like to give people what they wanted. Just ask Spike, she thought.

As she knew they would, they got impatient. They were young. Had to learn that timing is everything. Red jumped her first. Of course. Buffy let the girl land on her back but instead of falling to the floor as planned; she simply used the girl’s weight to toss her over her shoulders. She collided painfully with Blonde, taking them both down.

As they scrambled to untangle themselves and get up, Buffy waited. Red looked embarrassed, her skin flushed. Blonde looked pissed. Buffy remained expressionless. The redhead took a step towards her so they were less than two feet apart.

“Show us what you can do,” she taunted.

Buffy tilted her head. “I think I just did.”

She didn’t like that. The girl lashed out at her and Buffy jumped backwards out of reach. The girl didn’t give up easily though. She followed her with a quick succession of jabs. A couple caught Buffy in awkward places such as her shoulder and ear. The ear hit actually hurt quite a bit. Buffy had had enough of Red. She reached up and simply shoved her in the chest backwards. Red stumbled back, shocked at the straightforward manoeuvre. Buffy took that opportunity to slam her foot right into her stomach. The force sent her flying several feet through the air before gravity took effect and she impacted with the hard floor, skidding across it.

Buffy didn’t have a chance to see if that had floored her for good because Blonde’s fist was suddenly in her face making her see stars. She couldn’t see for several moments and so blindly ducked the next blow that was coming, hearing the air whistle over her head as the fist missed. Buffy ran forwards and rammed her head into the girl’s midriff, continuing forward and taking the girl for the ride. She slammed her back into the wall as hard as she could and Blonde screamed out in pain. Buffy figured that’d be the end of her but instead she got a double fisted punch to the spine for her trouble.

The Slayer grunted as her legs fell out from under her in the pain of the hit. She landed on the floor on her knees, wheezing. Blonde, still half screaming, swept her foot up and kicked Buffy underneath the chin. The force of the blow snapped Buffy’s head back sickeningly and her body followed the momentum, arching backwards until her back struck the floor. Her neck felt like it had cracked. She fought back the bile rising up her throat and managed to roll onto her front.

She was met with the sight of two pale feet with toenails painted blue. She rolled her eyes up and saw Red had recovered. Oh, joy.

Buffy rolled sideways out of the way just as the foot slammed down on where she had been. Shaking aside the rising nausea and the minor issue of a possible broken neck, Buffy dragged herself to her feet and stood to face them. Blonde was scowling, Red smiling. She guessed that summed them up.

Buffy wanted to hate them but found she couldn’t. So she settled on breaking their faces. It was only right. They rushed her together this time. Teamwork at it’s best. Buffy lashed out both fists simultaneously with pinpoint precision at the last moment. Both hit their target - the girls’ noses.

As they comically tumbled to the ground in unison Buffy noted that she’d never had that move actually work before. Cool.

She stepped forward and placed a foot on Red’s chest as she tried unsteadily to sit up, wheezing through her broken nose.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Buffy said, panting. “Stay down. Live. Whatever you are.”

The girl laughed bitterly at that but didn’t try and rise again. Blonde had already given some signal that she’d surrendered.

Cain clapped and brought attention to himself. “Nice. I’m seeing potential.”

“Potential?” Buffy growled. “How about you come over here and I kick your ass?”

“No,” he said simply. “But I do have another fight for you.”

Buffy instinctively walked to the end of the hall furthest from the doors her other opponents had come from. She had her back to the wall to keep her eyes on the door. Her neck obviously wasn’t broken but her head was throbbing and her vision was a little cloudy in one eye. She spat on the floor and it came out bloody, with what looked like a fragment of tooth. Not good.

“What’s next? Three?” She said, not caring about appearing petulant anymore. She’d earned it.

Cain smiled. “Not quite.”

Buffy watched as the doors open and girls emerged. Lots of girls. All filing out in a row one by one and all ready to kick her ass. As the other half of the hall started to look a lot more crowded Buffy began to feel like Uma Thurman against the Crazy 88.

Finally the door swung shut which a swish.

Buffy didn’t count them exactly but she was guessing there were at least fifteen maybe twenty girls down there, all different heights, different ethnicities and probably different shoe sizes. They all looked remarkably toned and ready for battle though. And as she looked down at these girls she realised what she had been feeling all through the fights. The familiarity, the similarity. They were all like her.

They were Slayers.

She stopped. “How?”

“Took you long enough,” Cain rolled his eyes. “Your Rosenberg, that’s how. Her and your old gang, that is. Who’d have thought all it would take was a spell to give us a real army?”

Willow. So…this was how they’d won against The First. The Potentials had become the Actuals. It all made sense and at the same time didn’t. There was supposed to be only one. Buffy thought of Faith. Obviously it was possible for there to be more than one but…this many? She couldn’t get her head around it.

Cain cleared his throat calling her attention back to him again. “Question is; are you ready to take on this lot?”

Buffy looked away from him and into the eyes of the girls in front. They didn’t know her, didn’t care to know her. They’d been given orders to destroy her. Orders they would follow because they knew no better. Buffy didn’t want to fight them but she would, if it meant living.

“Can we get on with this?” She scowled, readying her fists and running through strategies in her head.

Cain nodded. “As you wish.”

The girls took that as their signal. A hum of energy filled the gym and then it happened. Twenty Vampire Slayers ran towards her and Buffy watched them come. As with all dramatic moments in her life it happened in slow motion. She could tell these girls were young and none too experienced but they were still Slayers and they outnumbered her greatly. Her outlook on this situation wasn’t exactly sunny.

She took a few deep breaths and didn’t even flinch as they approached. In a second they’d be only a couple of feet away. She tried to think something profound but her mind went blank and all she could hear were their feet pounding on the floor and her own breathing.

And then.

And then.

Nothing.

They all came to a sudden and unnatural stop. From the way they all seemed to turn around Buffy guessed something must have happened. She blinked and everything seemed to pop into real time again. She heard voices and confusion. And then she realised what she’d heard in her peripheral hearing a moment ago. She’d heard the word “Enough!” shouted loudly and violently. Shouted by Spike.

The sea of girls parted and she saw him there, standing in front of the door of the gym as it swung shut. To say he looked angry wouldn’t have done it justice. He looked like anger.

“I was just about to say that,” Cain protested.

Buffy’s fists were still raised in a Judo pose and only then did she lower them slowly.

Spike moved so fast he actually blurred and Cain was up against the wall with the vampire’s hand around his throat. Gasps slipped out from the Slayer’s mouths but none of them rushed to stop him. Buffy didn’t blame them but she needed the asshole. As she pushed through the girls towards the vampire and the boy she heard Cain gargle “I was about to stop them! Get off me, you knob!”

Spike’s only reply was to squeeze his windpipe harder.

“Spike,” Buffy placed her hand on his neck-choking-arm (her theory about him being a neck grabber now firmly enforced). “You probably should let him go now. His face is turning purple.”

He glanced at her and dropped the teen who promptly sat on the floor, holding his neck and coughing. The vampire turned to her and reached up. Buffy was wary of any choking but instead he held her face in his hands and looked her over, concerned.

“I’m ookay,” she said.

Spike nodded and let her go, looking back to Cain. “I take it she passed your moronic tests?”

“With flying colours,” Cain narrowed his eyes at the man. “We’ll do all we can for her. I’ll personally see to it.”

Buffy breathed a sigh of something resembling relief.

“You had bloody better,” Spike growled then turned to Buffy. “Let’s go and get you patched up.”

Buffy picked up her jacket and boots. “Can there be ice cream?”

“And beer.”

“And explanations as to how there is an army of Slayers now?”

“Bloody hell, exposition again?!”

The door swung shut behind them, cutting off the sound of Cain’s ragged breathing and the Slayer’s gossiping.

“Ow!” Buffy winced, pulling away “Hey!”

Spike rolled his eyes as he placed the antiseptic on the small cut above the Slayer’s eye. The girl could withstand the army of hell without so much as a twinge but antiseptic? He’d found her Achilles heel.

She sat up on his kitchen counter, with him between her legs. It wasn’t nearly as filthy as it sounded. His mind was focused solely on cleaning her wounds and looking over her bruises. He didn’t notice the softness of her skin or the way her hair stuck to her neck lightly with sweat from the fight.

“Should you be doing that?” Xander asked carefully.

Besides, they weren’t alone. So there’d be none of that sexual tension here. In fact, they were far from alone. Harris was leaning defensively again the fridge; arms folded and eye watching them closely. Willow and Mya stood behind the Slayer and the vampire, also watchful and concerned for the bruised Buffy.

Buffy didn’t seem too concerned for herself, however. She sat there merrily spooning ice cream into her mouth and batting away his hands when he got too antiseptic happy.

Spike didn’t look at Xander when he spoke. “What’d you mean?”

“Cleaning the blood,” he replied. “Might make you hungry.”

Spike almost told him that it wasn’t Buffy’s blood that made him hungry but refrained from doing so. After all, there were children in the room. Instead he took a breath and answered calmly.

“I just ate.”

Xander remained sceptical for a moment then straightened up. “I can’t believe The Council. Don’t those guys ever learn? Beating up your own people doesn’t tend to encourage a happy workforce.”

Spike shrugged. “The Council is old fashioned. They need empirical evidence of loyalty, of strength and skill.”

“Boneheads.”

“It was a piece of cake,” Buffy swallowed a mouthful of Rocky Road. “Even though nobody bothered to tell me someone had formed a Slayer Club.”

Willow smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“I’ll deal. Must’ve been a pretty big spell, Will.”

She shrugged. “In a way, yeah. Once I had the Scythe it wasn’t really about me or my power though, it was about the Slayer’s.”

Buffy nodded. “Where is this Scythe now?”

“We think Faith pawned it to get a new tattoo,” Willow said brightly.

“Good to know we look after the sources of our primal power,” Buffy glibly said.

Spike cupped her chin and tilted her head up to look at her neck. It was swollen and bruised and generally looked painful as hell. She’d taken a heavy hit and he wished he’d gotten there sooner. Tailing Cain had proven harder than he’d imagined. The kid was swathed in so many protection spells – not to mention the insanely fast ride – that it had taken a while.

Buffy shifted on the counter, letting him look. “So…The Council controls all the Slayers still?”

“No,” Willow shook her head. “Cain has a tiny fraction of them. To keep things in Sunnydale…quiet.”

“So the rest of them are just, what; running around?”

“Not exactly,” Xander grinned. “We look after them.”

Buffy blinked. “You guys?”

“Hey, don’t make that sound so shocking,” he protested. “We’re not like a formal organisation or anything but we’ve got outposts, we’ve got safe houses. A few schools dotted about. People who train them and look out for them. It’s how I met Sarah.”

Willow smiled. “Seduced her with his carpentry skills.”

“I made her a bow and arrows,” Xander beamed proudly.

Mya grinned. “Aww, a gift of deadly weaponry. Nobody ever gives me sharp pointy objects.”

“It’s the way to a Slayer’s heart,” he explained sagely.

Buffy smiled softly. “One of them. So, who trains the girls? I mean it was hard enough with the Potentials but hundreds of Slayers? Is it hundreds?”

“Thousands,” Spike murmured. “At last count.”

Her eyes widened.

“I do,” Willow told her. “And Faith. Giles and Angel did for a little while, before…”

“And dad,” Mya piped up.

Buffy turned her eyes down to look at Spike who was still examining the bruising around her neck. “Ah, Spike in a room full of Slayers. His dream come true.”

“Was only ever interested in one Slayer,” Spike responded matter-of-factly, tilting her head back down and releasing his hold on her.

The whole room was silent for a moment but he didn’t much care as he stepped away and began replacing the creams and plasters into the First Aid kit. The moment passed and Willow and Mya began fussing with Buffy, making sure she was okay and trying to steal some ice cream.

Xander stood apart from the girls, watching them fondly for a little while. Then he looked at Spike for long enough that it made the vampire look up to acknowledge him. He walked past him and out the patio doors. Spike understood. He sighed and put the kit away before following Harris out into the rapidly darkening garden, closing the sliding doors behind him.

They stood on the back lawn side by side, neither of them looking at the other. The silence lasted a few seconds before Xander spoke.

“If she’s convicted, get her out of here,” he said lowly.

Spike glanced at the boy. He still thought of him as a boy, sometimes. The years had roughened him, given him deep wrinkles around the eyes. The eye patch cut the symmetry of his face harshly and grey hairs were beginning to show in his long and unruly hair but Spike still saw the stupid and foolhardy boy from Sunnydale.

Xander had never trusted Spike entirely and Spike understood that. It must have taken some considerable effort for him to ask that of the vampire. Buffy was one of his best friends and a girl Spike was sure Xander had always held a torch for. To ask him to protect her was a big thing for Harris. Never mind that he would protect her anyway, with or without the request from the boy. Xander didn’t need to know that.

“I will,” was all Spike said.

Xander turned to meet his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something else but they were interrupted.

“Hey,” Buffy called gently.

They both turned to face her. Leaning against the now open sliding doors, she looked worried. Like maybe they were about to start a wrestling match and not the kind involving oil.

“What’s up?”

Spike rolled his eyes at her. “Nothin’s up. Just watching the sun set with my honey-bunch.”

He started back up to the house.

As he moved to get around her she placed a hand on his chest to stop him, then she looked over his shoulder at Xander and then back at him. She still looked worried.

She tilted her head. “Were you talking about me?”

“Self-involved much, Buff?” Xander grinned. “I was just warning the vamp to keep his hands to himself, is all.”

Spike nodded. “He doesn’t like me grabbing his arse. Or so he says.”

The Slayer didn’t look amused as she spoke to her friend. “I don’t need you to do the big brother routine, Xand. I’ll see who I want to see. Spike or not.”

“That’s fine, I’d just prefer not,” he said.

Spike would have preferred not to have been in the middle of this conversation but nobody seemed to care what he preferred. Xander’s cover up for their real conversation was working a bit too well. Buffy gave him a hard look and Spike cleared his throat, drawing her attention.

“We have bigger problems,” he reminded her. “The trial. It’s the day after tomorrow, Buffy.”

She sighed. “I’m aware of that, Spike. What do you want me to do? Norman’s doing all he can, I’ve been to see Cain. Now it’s up to the jury to decide. Is…is there a jury?”

“No jury. It’ll be a small hearing with a member of H.U prosecuting and Norman defending you. Cain will sit at your table as a representative of The Council and your defence. There will be an independent judge and he or she will decide your sentence,” Spike explained to her.

Buffy looked a little wary. “So my life is in the hands of one guy in a wig?”

“There’s no wig…but yeah,”

Xander stepped up beside him. “Are we allowed to be there?”

Spike looked at him. “She needs character witnesses, so yes. There might be other members of H.U or The Council too. You know the types – bored suits who need a bit of entertainment.”

The Slayer swallowed and nodded. “What’d you say, Xand? Wanna defend my character?”

“Any day,” he said simply.

She smiled and glanced back into the living room. “Will?”

“Of course, Buffy.”

Buffy nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”

She stepped aside and let Xander pass but when Spike tried to follow she stopped him again and moved outside, sliding the door closed behind her. He took a step back and waited for her to say whatever it was she had in mind.

“Willow once told me that three is a magic number,” Buffy began, looking at the ground as if slightly embarrassed. “It’s important to the balance of things. Bad things happen in threes; things come back to you threefold, there are three Robocop movies…”

Spike tilted his head and frowned.

“…I guess what I’m trying to say is…everybody needs three people who’ll vouch for them. I’ve got Willow and Xander, I’m kind of in need of a third,” she looked directly at him then. “Will you…I mean, I know I haven’t exactly treated you right in the past, which is an understatement of a huge nature, but –”

“Buffy.” He interrupted.

She paused. “Yeah?”

“You know I will.”

She seemed to visibly relax. “I hoped you’d say that. I just…I know things are weird between us at the moment.”

“Things are always weird between us, love,” he reminded her. “But this is much more important than sex or the past or any of it.”

“More important than sex?” Buffy questioned, wryly.

He half-smiled. “Sort of.”

She left it at that and turned to go back inside, the movement pulling a wince from her. She rubbed a hand across the slope of her neck; the bruising there had already begun to turn that ugly yellowish colour. She’d be right as rain soon enough but at the moment she still hurt. Spike hated to see her that way and gave half a thought to slapping Travers across the room the next time he saw him. He doubted it would have gone down well at the trial.

“You should get some rest,” he proclaimed. “I’ll give you a lift back to Faith’s.”

Buffy stepped up into the doorway. “Can I use your shower first? I’m gross and stinky. I really don’t feel like using Faith’s shared bathroom and being spied on by the pervert from No. 67.”

He imagined Xander inside carefully constructing a voodoo doll of him and smiled.

“Yeah. Of course.”

+ + +

Buffy stood in the shower – which was on the optimum temperature setting – and decided that at least the future had good bathing facilities. She must have been in there for at least twenty minutes just trying to soothe her aching bones. The stiffness in her neck had vanished completely and she felt almost as good as new.

She could hear muffled voices from down the hall and she guessed it was time to get out of the shower. Buffy sighed and turned the miracle machine off before towelling herself dry and redressing in her clothes. It kind of defeated the logic of washing but at least she felt a little better.

The Slayer took a while combing her hair with what she guessed must have been Mya’s comb. She knew why she was procrastinating. She didn’t want to go back to Faith’s. The other Slayer hadn’t been too bad to live with as it turned out but the apartment was a mess and sharing a mattress with the other woman wasn’t really a good time either.

Buffy placed the comb back where she had found it and took a deep breath, looking at herself in the mirror. She supposed she should feel lucky. Even Faith’s place was likely to be better than prison. It was odd to think she might be in prison in a few days time. Or dead.

Her mind flashed to Angel. She imagined him sitting in his cell. Buffy wanted to get him out of there so damn bad but she’d have to get herself out of trouble first. Banishing those thoughts from her mind she left the bathroom and walked slowly down the hall to the living room.

Spike was slumped on the couch watching television. He seemed to be alone and Buffy guessed the voices she had heard were Xander and Willow leaving, Mya was also suspiciously absent.

Not that she minded, really. Sure things were awkward between them but like he had pointed out earlier – they always were. Buffy watched him for a moment longer. His eyes were fixed on the screen, his limbs loose and relaxed. The blue shirt he wore was rumpled and the top button was undone, tie hanging around his neck untied. He looked exhausted. She felt exhausted. They were old fogies.

“I know how to clear a room,” Buffy announced herself, stepping into the room.

Spike looked up and away quickly. “I think you’ll find that’s my talent.”

She inched further in slowly. “Xander didn’t say anything did he…?”

He grunted. “No.”

“Even now he’s trying to…I don’t know, be my guardian or something? It’s weird and not at all civil,” Buffy declared, dropping into the armchair.

“Thinks he knows best,” Spike said simply. “Maybe he does. He’s the one who sees everything, after all.”

She frowned. “Huh?”

“Never mind.”

She pulled herself into an upright sitting position and braced herself for what she was about to say. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked at the screen. “For what?”

“For just messing stuff up for you,” Buffy chewed on her lip. “I mean, I get what you said the other night. About us being the past. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard for me to get that it’s been years for you. For me it was less than a year since we were…involved like that. And even less time since I last saw you. I guess I just need to catch up. Stop pretending like you haven’t changed. Like everything hasn’t changed.”

Spike locked eyes with her. “I didn’t mean –”

“Spike, it’s cool.” She shifted in her seat. “It could be a good thing. A clean slate or whatever. Now that there are so many Slayers and not that much need for them. Assuming I don’t get taken to the kink.”

“Clink,” he corrected her. “Buffy I…it might have been years for me since I last saw you but I wanted to see you every day. It’s not like I forgot you. Not once.”

She smiled softly. “You moved on. You got married. Had a kid. I’m happy for you. Happy that you found that. I never could have imagined you as a family man but now that I see it…I see it’s perfect for you. It’s what you were meant to be.”

Spike shrugged, looking pensive. “What are you saying?”

“That I don’t want to hold you back,” she said and then looked surprised at herself as though she had finally voiced something she hadn’t known quite how to word before.

Spike started to say something then stopped, took a moment and spoke. “You’re right. I have changed. And one thing I am now? Is not a man who will be held back.”

Buffy considered that. “So, what does that mean?”

“I decide what I want to do,” he replied, turning back to the TV. “No one dictates to me anymore, Buffy. Not even you.”

“Okay, what do you want to do?”

A wry smile pulled at the corner of his mouth but he didn’t say anything. Buffy watched him carefully. This Spike was so much more cryptic than he used to be. Or, at least very private. He seemed to keep what he was feeling to himself when Buffy really could have done with knowing. She guessed it was her own fault. Karma or whatever.

Nodding, mostly to herself, she stood. “I guess I better get back. Norman’s coming by later to go over things.”

“Oh, right.” Spike stood. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Buffy’s laughed as she made her way to the door. “Don’t make promises you won’t keep.”

He followed closely behind. “Keep sayin’ things like that and you might give me the wrong idea.”

“Which would be what?” She opened the door, letting the muted sunshine in.

Spike grabbed up a blanket and threw it up over his head. “Let’s go.” He stepped outside.

Well, of course. This was un-sharey Spike. Of course he wouldn’t tell her. She sighed and followed after him. They got in the car and pulled away in silence but it wasn’t long before Spike was prattling on about the trial yet again. He had to realise how nervous the whole thing made her and going on and on about it wasn’t helping. She just stared out of the window and watched the town go by for the most part. Buffy could feel Spike’s anger at her apathy but if he was going to be close guarded about his emotions then she could be too. It was childish, she knew, but she had never announced herself as being particularly mature.

“So, you’ve got nothin’ to add I take it?” He muttered.

Buffy glanced at him. “Not really. I mean…there’s no way I can prove to those guys that I’m a good person. I don’t even really know if I am.”

Spike snorted.

“I’m serious, Spike. I mean – I fight demons but…is that a good thing now? Vampires have rights. That makes me a bad person,” she shrugged. “And then there are the other things. The things that make people good. Family. Friends. Boyfriends. I suck at all of those. You know that.”

He shook his head. “I was never your boyfriend, love. As for family and friends, I’d say you have a pretty good lot.”

“Had,” she corrected him, looking out of the window again to cover the way her face fell. “Dawn and Mom are dead…I don’t even know about dad. Giles is gone and Willow and Xander have outgrown me. I look at them and they’re still Xander and Willow but…more, you know? More than me.”

He opened his mouth to protest but she continued.

“And I never treated any of them right, anyway. All I did was get them all nearly killed. A lot.” Buffy took a deep breath and blinked several times to clear her eyes. “People are better off not knowing me.”

“Bollocks,” he said firmly.

“It’s true and you know it.”

“Right,” he shook his head. “You know, you annoy the hell out of me Summers.”

Buffy looked at him then, scowling. “Thanks.”

“You didn’t nearly get them killed. You saved them. All the damn time. Without you they’d be dead a hundred times over. That or worse – living mundane little lives, working at Pizza Hut and wearing braces at the age of 50.” Spike snorted again and took a sharp left.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Spike.”

“Your mum doted on you,” Spike said pointed at her briefly. “You think she’d have been better off not knowing you? You think Dawn would have been? She’d be either a blob of energy or dead at the hands of Glory.”

“She’s dead anyway!” Buffy yelled suddenly.

Spike blinked, voice lowering. “But she had a good life.”

“Yeah,” Buffy laughed bitterly. “Getting kidnapped at least two or three times a week and hating her sister for ignoring her. Cutting herself. God. She didn’t even know who she was.”

He looked out the windscreen. “She figured it out.”

“And then she died.”

“That’s the thing about humans.” Spike replied. “But she was loved and she loved. She missed you every day. I can tell you she was proud to have you as a sister. Then there’s Willow and Xander - they have got to be the two luckiest geeks in the world to have met you. Giles? He got the daughter he never had. As for your terrible taste in boyfriends…well, that part is true.”

Buffy choked up a laugh, this one genuine, but had to look away as her eyes started to get watery again. “Yeah, I mean look at you.”

“Ah, I was never your boyfriend remember,” he smiled.

She almost smiled herself. “Maybe it’s all true what you said. Maybe it isn’t. But that judge isn’t going to know either way.”

“We’ll tell them.”

She shook her head. “People don’t always believe what they’re told.”

Spike turned to her and raised his eyebrows, eyes widening. “Then we’ll show them.”

“That I have terrible taste in boyfriends?”

“No, that you changed people for the better. That you’re one of the good guys…” Spike’s eyes were lighting up.

Buffy frowned. “And how in hell are you going to do that?”

“You’ll see. It’ll either work tremendously or sink like a lead balloon filled with elephant dung.” He pulled out front of Faith’s building and threw on his blanket in one move. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

She got out of the car. “So, you’re not going to tell me?”

“About elephant dung?” They walked into the apartment building.

“No, I’m an expert in that subject,” she climbed the stairs. “I meant your decidedly shoddy plan.”

He followed after her, watching the view. “It’s not shoddy. Just risky.”

“Just like the old days.”

“Exactly.”

Buffy turned the corner of her hall, tired and still aching from the beatings the other Slayer’s had instilled on her. Maybe she really was getting old. Or maybe she was just sick and tired of getting the crap beating out of her. Either way she needed sleep and lots of it.

As they reached the apartment Buffy’s heart sank.

Scrawled across the door was one word written in a deep red.

Murderer.

Buffy didn’t look at Spike as she spoke. “Yeah, I’m one of the good guys all right.”

Buffy sat at the long table, hands folded, legs crossed and eyes barely propped open. She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night and she was sure it showed. She’d stayed awake mostly out of self-preservation. Whoever had written the graffiti on Faith’s door knew where she was and what she had done. She’d be damned if they came back to catch her napping.

Of course Spike had wanted her to move somewhere else, until she pointed out she had nowhere to go. It was either Faith’s place or jail. It was a tough choice but she eventually settled on the vampire’s lair. She doubted the vandal had enough muscle to take on two Slayers. Especially since one was already dead. Spike had wanted to stay too but after a lengthy debate – some might say argument – he reluctantly left.

Now she was paying for the lack of rest. Sitting in possibly the dourest room in the world with her freedom hanging in the balance, Buffy Summers kept dozing off. It was not a good impression to make.

Norman nudged her sharply with his bony elbow when her eyelids began to droop again. She grunted and pulled herself into an upright sitting position. He gave her a look of grave disappointment but she was too tired to be ashamed.

She’d tried to dress well for the occasion but her mind had been a little addled when putting together her outfit, so she could only hope she looked respectable. Spike sat in the row of seats behind her looking the epitome of respectable. Dressed in a sharp grey suit and shiny shoes he was like a Ralph Lauren model. She tried not to look at him as it just made her feel worse about herself. Xander and Willow were sitting alongside Spike trying not to look nervous and failing greatly. In turn, they made Buffy feel even worse, so she kept her eyes to the front.

In her line of view now was a solitary man sitting across the table, dressed in a suit, dark hair parted to the side and slicked down with gel. Buffy estimated he was in his mid to late thirties and the lines around his mouth indicated he liked to smile and to laugh. Today he was doing neither. Instead he sat before her and Norman and the prosecution looking slightly annoyed.

“I won’t be kept waiting forever, Mr. Wagner,” he said firmly.

Norman nodded rapidly. “Yes, sir. I do apologise for –”

Cain Travers – the reason they were all waiting – swept open the door and marched through the room. He was dressed in a suit also, an expensive one at that, but the effect was rather ruined by the large sunglasses sitting on his face. He slumped down next to Buffy smelling of smoke.

“Sorry I’m late,” he removed the glasses and set them down on the table. “Had to avert a mystical war and all that.”

The man did not look impressed. “Evading another ex-lover then, Mr. Travers, I presume.”

Cain just smiled.

Buffy wished they would just get on with it. All this prolonging was making her more and more nervous. And tired. The small gathering of people in the room seemed to agree with her because they began to make small sounds of irritation.

The man at the table stood. “Thomas Heaton, Chief of Human and Humanoid Justice.” Then he sat.

Suddenly the woman on the other side of Norman stood. “Lucy Porter, Representative of Humanoids United.” And then she sat.

“Erm,” Norman practically jumped up. “Uh, Norman Wagner, Defence Lawyer.”

As Norman sat Buffy realised with a panic that everyone was waiting for her to do the stand up/sit down routine. She looked at her lawyer wide-eyed and he gestured for her to get up. Awkwardly she stood, her chair squealing across the floor way too loudly.

“Buffy Summers…” she looked directly at the judge, looked him right in the eye as she continued. “Vampire Slayer.”

Thomas Heaton barely blinked but there was a hushed murmur that ran right through the room and Norman practically slapped his head and yelled “D’oh!” She paused for a moment and then sat down. Cain stood up next and did his bit and then they all settled in silence for a few moments.

“The main body of the trial shall take place tomorrow,” Thomas said, eyes scanning those on the other side of the table. “Today is merely for formalities. We’ve addressed who we are and why we are here. Now, the incident that took place.”

His voice rose a level. “Let it be known that Ms. Summers is charged with murder in the first degree. She is charged with taking Mr. Joseph Edward Dawson’s life on February the 18th 2033 in an unlawful killing.” He turned to look at her. “How do you plead?”

Buffy was wide awake now. “His life had been taken long before I got there.”

Another murmur through the room.

“Not guilty will suffice for now, Ms. Summers,” his tone was warning. “Now. Both the defence and the prosecution will have the chance to call witnesses to speak. There will be no limit on the amount but I do ask you to keep them relevant. This trial and in turn, this room, is magick-proof. No manipulation of the forces of nature may take place here.”

Buffy guessed that that meant the opening of the portal plan had gone out the window.

Norman cleared his throat. “May we put in a request to indulge in the use of one supervised manipulation of the laws of physics?”

Lucy Porter looked at him with a confused glare.

Thomas just blinked again. “Hand in a formal application at the end of this meeting and I will review your request.”

“Yes sir,” Norman nodded.

“Are there any further questions?” He asked.

Lucy Porter held up her hand. “H.U would like to request that Ms. Summers be kept in proper confinement until she is sentenced, as she poses a real threat to society.”

Buffy wanted to turn and scowl at the woman but managed to keep a blank face, she could however hear Spike muttering a string of words about his former colleague.

Norman spoke up. “That is not necessary. She is already under watch by an operative of The Council, as is accepted in the guidelines of a private trial.”

“We believe that Ms. Summers was previously acquainted with The Council’s operative and therefore we do not believe she is being monitored as well as should be,” the woman countered. “Her guardian is biased.”

Thomas held up a hand. “Due to the nature of this trial, Ms. Summers’ appointed guardian is qualified for the task at hand. Unless you can prove to me that she has neglected her duties, I will let the defendant remain where she is.”

Lucy paused but then shook her head and Buffy had never been so relieved to be stuck with Faith as in that moment.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Thomas stood up. “We will begin the trial tomorrow at nine. Do not be late, Mr. Travers.”

And with that the scary judge man left and the hushed court suddenly got a whole lot louder.

+ + +

The four of them stood outside the “courthouse”, which was really just a plain looking building in the middle of the town. Buffy was feeling incredibly depressed and the expressions on Willow and Xander’s faces were not helping. Spike was trying for calmly neutral and mostly succeeding. Xander cleared his throat. It was the third time he’d done it in the past five minutes and yet they still all stood in uncomfortable silence.

As they had been leaving the meeting the only words exchanged had been stiff “that went okay” and “you’ll be fine” kind of remarks. That and a scowl or two thrown between Lucy Porter and Spike.

“So what’d you want to do now?” Xander asked finally.

Buffy knew he was addressing her. “You mean on my last day of freedom? I’m drawing a blank.”

“It’s not your last day of freedom!” Willow’s brow creased as she protested and shifted from foot to foot. “But we could keep our spirits up with booze and hookers, if you want.”

Spike shook his head. “Booze not a good idea.”

“Oh, but hookers are?” Buffy folded her arms and looked at him.

“Always.” He replied easily.

She slugged him daintily – by her standards – on the arm. “I think I just want to sleep. A lot.”

Xander nodded slowly. “That makes sense. I know I’d totally spend my last hours on earth sleeping.”

Willow shoved him quite hard. “It’s not her last hours on earth, jerk!”

“Hey! Joking, here!”

Buffy smiled softly. “Joking is good, as is sleep. I think I just need to rest.”

Xander and Willow seemed to accept that and after a little while they left, although Xander did want to escort her home. No doubt to keep her out of Spike’s clutches. If Spike even had clutches any more. She still wasn’t sure about that. Since he was the only one with a car he had the great honour of driving her home.

“I think we’ll be alright,” Spike said suddenly, eyes on road.

She wondered what he meant for a moment.

“Heaton seems neutral enough,” he added, glancing at her. “So we’ve got as good a chance as any.”

Buffy looked out of her window and closed her eyes, tired. “We?”

“Okay, you.”

She said nothing and Spike sighed loudly. Buffy kept her eyes closed and let the steady lull of the car calm her. She didn’t know how long they’d been travelling when she heard Spike turn the radio off. The car was plunged into silence and she felt herself slipping into sleep.

The next sensation she felt was one of being carried. Still half asleep she tightened her arms around what must have been Spike’s neck and turned her face into his chest, smelling the scent of his fabric softener. Spike was a peach blossom man. Go figure.

When she next drifted into some kind of consciousness she was laying on something soft. Slowly she opened her eyes and her eye line was almost level with the ground. She recognised the raggedy floor boards as Faith’s and rolled onto her back. The movement made her catch sight of a figure to her side and she turned sharply. It was just Spike.

He was leaning on the window sill and had managed to pry one of the windows open. I t took her a moment to realise what he was doing. He was smoking. Head sticking out into the open air, arm casually resting on the handle of the window, smoke escaping his lips. He’d removed his suit jacket and undone the top button of his shirt but the tie remained. His hair blew in the wind a little, longer than it had been back in her day.

Still, she was so surprised to see him smoking that she couldn’t help but think how much like her Spike he looked. Almost as soon as she thought it she knew that wasn’t right. He was always her Spike, always and never.

“I thought you’d given up,” she said.

He didn’t seem startled that she was awake and answered casually. “Could say the same about you.”

“Don’t start.” Buffy rolled onto her back again, looking at the ceiling.

She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep or how long Spike had been watching over her but the sky was beginning to show the first signs of dusk. He finished his cigarette and remained leaning partially out of the window. Maybe he didn’t want to be anywhere nearer to her. It wasn’t like she could blame him. She wasn’t very nice to be around any more, hadn’t been for a long time if she was honest with herself.

“You can go now,” she said quietly. “I won’t sleep again.”

“I don’t want to.”

Something about the way he said it made her turn her head to look at him. He was looking outside, the thousand yard stare. She watched as he blinked, threw the butt of the cigarette out of the window and closed it. Spike turned and caught her eye and stood up straight.

“Not till Faith’s back I mean,” He said almost like an afterthought.

Buffy propped herself up on her elbows. “Right.”

Spike wandered off and away from the window and didn’t seem to know what to do with himself now that she was actually awake. If it had been anyone other than him she might have made small talk but Spike was not someone she just chatted with. It was just not something they did. But then maybe that was something she should change.

“So why did you stop? Smoking, I mean.”

Spike shrugged. “Mya, mostly. She has asthma.”

Buffy nodded. “Oh. Speaking of Mya, won’t she be wondering where you are?”

“Called her, she’s with a friend of mine,” Spike replied, walking over to the fridge and looking inside. “You hungry?”

She watched him. “No. Are you?”

It was a loaded question to ask a vampire. He looked over his shoulder at her, eyebrow arched. She just smiled back. He rolled his blue eyes and laughed a little as he shut the fridge.

“I don’t get hungry anymore,” he turned back to her.

Buffy nodded. “’Cos that’d be wrong.”

“Best things always are,” Spike gave her a look she hadn’t seen in a while and then walked back to the window, where he seemed to feel safest.

She looked down at her feet, not because they interested her particularly but because sometimes it was hard to look at him. When she looked at Spike she saw all the bad things he had done, all the bad things they had done, all the good things, she saw a vampire, saw just a really hot guy. It led to all sorts of confusion.

“How are you?” He asked.

Buffy smiled at her feet, which was an odd thing to do in itself, the question was such a simple one. Or it was supposed to be. There was nothing simple about what was going on with her at the moment. She didn’t know how she was. She knew she should have felt some strong emotion – fear, worry, defiance. And she did. She felt all of those things in small ways, leading to a jumble.

She glanced at him. “Ask me in thirty years.”

“I just did,” he returned, smiling.

Buffy smiled too and shrugged. “Honest answer? Hella confused.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“No, but it is very, very annoying.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Suits you then.”

Buffy looked up at him then and arched her own eyebrow. “My, bitchy this afternoon aren’t we?”

He shrugged and said nothing.

“If I’m so annoying why did you love me?”

“’Cos I’m a masochist?” He offered.

Buffy looked back down. “Well, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. So that should be a relief.”

“Maybe I want you in my hair,” Spike replied. He frowned. “Not literally. Well, maybe a little bit. Only in the fingers running through hair sense though.”

“Maybe?”

He grunted and pushed away from the window walking over to the mattress, he croached down in front of her. “Buffy, of course I want you in my hair – life, I mean. Damn you and your sodding hair mentioning.”

Buffy laughed a little and looked into his eyes. “In what way do you want me in your life, Spike? I need to know.”

“In what way do you want to be in my life?” He countered.

She shook her head. “Uh uh. Not fair. I asked first.”

He smiled and reached across to touch her face, cold hand against her warm skin. The touch was very gentle, very soft, like he was doing it as a comforting thing rather than anything sexual. A friendly touch. She guessed that answered her question.

“You said ‘did’,” Spike said softly.

Buffy frowned. “What?”

“You said ‘why did you love me?’” He searched her face with his eyes. “Instead of ‘why do you love me?’”

She reached up and took his hand away from her face. “It’s been a long time. I don’t know how you feel.”

Spike smiled, looked like he wanted to laugh.

Buffy let go of his hand and gave him hard eyes. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not. I just love that you didn’t just take it for granted that I’d love you to the end of time. That you actually thought I might be over you,” He looked way too happy.

She folded her arms. “So?”

“So, that’s one reason in a list of many of why I could never get over you,” He chuckled and stood up. “You don’t realise how bloody terrific you are.”

Buffy was a little stunned. She didn’t know if it was possible to be a little stunned but she was. It was the most she’d ever heard Spike say about his feelings towards her since she’d dropped back out of the portal and he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She noticed suddenly that he was retreating, picking up his jacket and making his way to the door.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

Spike turned to her, hand on the door handle. “Got to go get Mya.”

“You can’t just leave after saying something like that!” Buffy protested scrambling up to stand. “And you said you’d wait till Faith got back.”

Spike smiled, eyes sparkling as he pulled the door open. Faith appeared in the doorway, keys in hand. She blinked, looked at Spike, shrugged and stepped in.

“Hey fang-boy,” she greeted him.

Spike nodded. “Fang-girl. See you tomorrow, Buffy.”

Without giving her a chance to say anything else Spike was gone and Buffy was left standing there in day-old makeup and messy bed hair. Something must have shown on her face because Faith’s eyebrows rose and she promptly made her way to the fridge.

Buffy sighed and tried to smooth her hair down; walking to the window she caught sight of Spike making his way to his car. He sure was a sneaky bastard.

“Evil.”

It was just a word. Didn’t mean much without any context. In this case the context was; “If you could describe Buffy Summers in one word what would that word be?” It was hard not to take that personally. The evildoer in question just blinked and remained silent.

The woman who sat across from her several feet away had a quiet kind of rage in her eyes. She didn’t look at Buffy, kept her gaze on the person who had asked the question.

“Evil,” Lucy said, drawing the word out. “Why?”

The woman almost snorted at that but didn’t. “She’s a murderer. Moved quick but easily, like it was nothing at all. Used bare hands to just tear…she killed him. And it was nothing to her.”

Well, that wasn’t strictly true, Buffy thought. A slay was just a slay but it always meant something to her. This woman was seeing things from the view of an outsider, which she was. She’d merely witnessed the event, she didn’t understand the context. Again, it was all about the context.

This was the third witness testimony they’d sat through and all the accounts were pretty much identical. This woman held a little more venom but she had nothing new to add.

Norman shifted on his chair next to her and Buffy glanced at him, seeing a barely suppressed trembling of his hands. She wondered if he was nervous for himself and his big day, or nervous for her. She hoped it was the former.

Lucy tilted her head, sympathetic eyes on the witness. “And, in your opinion, on the day of the incident was Joseph Dawson doing anything to warrant such a violent attack?”

“Not a thing,” the woman shook her head slowly. “Playing with his kid, far as I could see. Just normal.”

Lucy nodded. “Thank you. That is all.”

Heaton nodded back from his position at the head of the long table and scribbled something down on his notepad. Buffy wondered if it was something good, something bad, or just a note to remind himself to pick up milk on the way home. She’d probably never know. Especially if it was about milk.

“Cross-examination?” was all he said, without looking up.

Norman cleared his dry throat. “No.”

Buffy looked down at her hands. They were slightly tanned, nails long but not tacky, fingers slender. Hardly the hands of a brutal killer. She didn’t know why that occurred to her at that moment but it did, and it was made all the more ridiculous because that’s what she was. A killer. A killer of evil things.

Heaton tented his fingers together, looking at the lawyer. “Do you have any points to make on any of the statements made, Mr. Wagner?”

“We, the defence, do not dispute that Miss. Summers killed Mr. Dawson,” Norman said, voice steady. “There were many witnesses and Miss. Summers has confirmed the act. It is not our main focus.”

Heaton arched a wry eyebrow. “Perhaps Mr. Dawson’s family would disagree.”

“I simply meant we do not dispute the manner of his death,” Norman’s cheeks flamed but he continued. “Our argument is that Miss. Summers cannot lawfully be held accountable for a crime she didn’t know was a crime.”

A soft murmur ran through the room. This was new information to the small audience who sat at the back of the room. Heaton already knew the case they intended to lay out, as did Lucy Porter. Buffy looked at her and caught her rolling her eyes. They locked gazes for a moment and both looked away.

Heaton nodded once. “Okay. Let’s proceed then. Would the defence like to call someone to speak?”

“We would,” Norman stood. “Cain Travers.”

The head of The Council stood and walked around the table to sit in the seat the female witness had just vacated. The hot seat. The young man had actually arrived on time to court this day and was dressed in a smart and expensive looking suit, face shaven and hair freshly cut. Buffy was impressed but he had yet to open his mouth and still had time to mess things up.

“Proceed.” Heaton leaned back comfortably in this seat.

The lawyer was focused on Cain. “Tell me, had you ever heard of Buffy Summers before you met her?”

Cain’s gaze flicked to the Slayer. “She’d been mentioned to me. Her name bandied about when I was a child.”

“A child? What age would you say?”

Cain shrugged. “Seven? Eight?”

“And how old are you now, Mr. Travers?”

“Eighteen.”

Norman frowned. “So, why on earth would you have heard of Buffy Summers when she herself, now a woman of age twenty two, would have been…what…twelve?”

Cain shrugged again. “She was talked about in past tense. Written about in the Watcher’s Diaries from the past.”

“How far in the past?”

“Decades. Thirty years, to be precise,” he smiled a little.

Norman scratched his chin. “Thirty years ago? How can that be possible if Buffy is only twenty two?”

Cain leaned forward on his elbows. “That is the question.”

Heaton cleared his throat. “Do you have any of these Watcher Diaries to present to us?”

Norman reached down and picked up five battered black books with dark red spines. Buffy vaguely recognised them. They must have been Giles’. He handed the books to someone who walked them down to Heaton. The man took the books but did not look through them, just motioned for them to continue.

“So, we can only assume that the Buffy Summers we have here today is the same Buffy Summers of yesteryear,” Norman gestured towards her then looked back to Cain. “But is there any way to prove it?”

Cain nodded. “We have photographs –”

“Hardly conclusive,” Lucy interjected.

“- and then there’s the DNA sample,” Cain beamed as the woman’s face fell.

Buffy looked up and felt her brow pinch together. DNA? The Council had her DNA? Why did that make her feel dirty and wrong? She shouldn’t have been surprised but she was. Still, if it could get her out of this she’d deal with her issues later.

Norman held up a small metal tube and passed that to Heaton along with what looked like a lab report.

“We can verify with that sample, plus the fingerprints we have for Miss. Summers thirty years ago and up to present day that she is one and the same,” Norman turned to her full on then and smiled a slightly wolfish grin. “And I think we can all concede Miss. Summers does not look like a woman of fifty two.”

Buffy felt as though she should flutter her eyelashes and blush instead she remained sitting upright, eyes focused on Heaton.

Norman returned to Cain. “The Council, your organisation, employed Buffy when she was fifteen years of age?”

“We did.”

“To do what?”

Cain shifted in his chair. “To slay.”

“To slay what?”

“All manner of demons.”

Buffy shook her head slightly. He didn’t want to use the ‘v’ word. Didn’t want to seem politically incorrect. Never mind that it was her life on the line.

Norman nodded. “What was her specific job description?”

Cain sighed. “She was recruited to be a Slayer. A…Vampire Slayer.”

The very word sent more whisperings running through the room than before. Cain tugged at his collar uncomfortably. Norman straightened his notebook and pen, adjusted his tie.

“She was trained to slay?”

The Council leader inclined his head. “Yes.”

“How long was she in your employ?”

“Eight years,” Cain replied. “Until she disappeared. Now that she’s back, her contract resumes.”

Norman tapped his fingers against the tabletop. “Eight years. I think it’s fair to say that eight years of training to kill and, indeed, killing would naturally affect a person. To be told constantly that it’s your destiny to slay. Your very duty.” He picked up a piece of paper and read from it. “Into each generation a Slayer is born, one girl in all the world, a Chosen One, one born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires.”

He let that sink in for a few dramatic moments, taking a sip from the glass of water on the table before him. Buffy watched his movements, calm, collected, confident. Was this really the same Norman? She felt oddly proud of him. Doing so well at her murder trial. Go Norman!

“That was your mission statement?” He asked.

Cain paused. “Yes. A long time ago.”

“And Buffy Summers was this one girl?”

“Yes. At that time, she was.”

Norman turned slightly to face the rest of the room. “Of course, we’re now all aware of Slayers. There are thousands of them but back in the late 90’s Miss. Summers was the only one. Only a young girl herself, she was shouldered with protecting the world. Fighting the good fight, so to speak.”

Buffy wasn’t sure he was right to paint her as the impressionable girl forced into slaying by an influential cult. Maybe it was partly true but she had never been as much of a victim as he was making her out to be. The Council had once had power over her, sure, but not any longer. She could have given up slaying and left the world vulnerable to attack but she hadn’t and that wasn’t because of the Council. No, in the end it was because of her. She couldn’t have left innocent people to fend for themselves, not when she had the power to protect them. Buffy was selfish in many ways but not when it came to risking her life for others.

However, Norman was playing on that a little, too. Making her out to be a noble, virginally pure guardian. She wasn’t that either. She was often bitter, often bad-tempered, self-righteous and spiteful.

The people in the room didn’t need to know that, though.

Her lawyer gestured widely with his hands. “In fact, I think it’s fair to say we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for this woman. It’s very well documented in The Council and even in our Government’s records that Buffy Summers saved the world. A lot.”

People began talking quietly again as Norman handed several reports to the guard to give to Heaton. Buffy assumed they were the records he had spoken of. The Slayer didn’t like to be whispered about as though she was some kind of circus attraction. She longed to turn around and be reassured with the sight of Willow, Spike and Xander behind her. She wouldn’t though. She had to keep her attention on Heaton, on Lucy Porter, on her potential executioners.

“Miss. Summers’ moral character notwithstanding,” Heaton said suddenly and the room hushed. “She killed a man – her past deeds are, indeed, honourable – but nothing changes that. Why should she not be held accountable?”

Norman blushed a little. “For one simple reason, sir.”

“Which is?”

“Buffy Summers did not know the law had changed. Did not know that slaying humanoids was murder.”

Heaton tilted his head. “And how is that possible?”

“Because, sir, Buffy disappeared from our world thirty years ago.”

“Disappeared?” Heaton’s eyebrows rose, voice amused. “Where did she vanish to?”

Norman shifted from foot to foot. “Another dimension.”

Lucy Porter barked a laugh. “Another dimension? Let me guess; The Twilight Zone?”

A ripple of laughter. Buffy felt her fists clench. These people could believe vampires were human but they couldn’t believe in dimensions. She bit her tongue and tasted blood.

“How do you propose to prove this, Mr. Wagner?” Heaton sat forward.

Norman stood ramrod straight. “With your permission, we’d like to open a portal to another world.”

The room erupted into loud protestations and curious questions, excitement and dread filling the air.

Lucy snorted. “Yeah, right, as if –”

“Granted.” Heaton said simply.

Lucy blinked, lips parted. “But…”

“We will adjourn for a short break,” Heaton stood. “And then Mr. Wagner will take us to another world.”

Spike sat on the steps of the ‘courthouse’, hidden in shade. The sunlight lit the town square beautifully, if you liked that sort of thing. Increasingly, he found he did. He sat quietly smoking a cigarette, foot tapping in a soft rhythm again the concrete step.

He’d left the Slayer inside talking with Xander and Willow. He’d felt slightly out of place, as he always did with them. No doubt he wanted to help Buffy and tell her it was all going to be alright but she had her friends, he was surplus.

So he sat and he smoked.

As far as he could tell it was actually going considerably better in there than any of them had thought. Who knew Norman actually had stones? Spike smirked and blew out a stream of smoke. Still, if he knew anything about Lucy Porter – and he did – she wasn’t about to let them have it easy. The trial was still in its infancy and could turn into a squalling brat at any minute.

Speaking of…he wondered if Mya was done being upset with him yet. She’d wanted to come and watch the trial but Spike didn’t think it was a good idea and she had school. So when he left her that morning she’d been sulking. Now, though, he wished he’d brought her along so he wouldn’t feel quite so out of the loop.

Spike snorted to himself, still feeling sorry for yourself. Knob.

“Filthy habit,” Buffy commented from the wide doorway of the courthouse.

Spike looked over his shoulder at her. “Break over?”

She shook her head and stepped out into the bright sunlight, walked across to his shady alcove. “Nah. Just needed air. Breathing is good.”

“Always seemed a bit redundant to me,” he smiled, looked straight ahead. “How’d you lose the Scooby Retirement Gang?”

Buffy sat down next to him, shrugged. “Ran. Ran like the wind.”

He laughed and she smiled. He loved her smile, didn’t see it near enough. He looked away before she’d notice he was staring at her and she looked down at the ground. The Slayer had dressed up for her day in court. Willow had taken her shopping and the result was a sleek trouser suit. Her hair was clipped up, a few strands artfully escaping. The look did it for him a bit.

Buffy reached across and fingered the lapel of his suit jacket. “Nice suit.”

Spike shrugged, secretly thrilled.

“You just dress like an Armani model every day to make me look bad,” she nudged him with her elbow.
He stubbed his cigarette out and glanced at her. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

She beamed. “Aw, shucks.”

“You’re in a bit of a good mood,” Spike commented.

“For someone on Death Row?” She tilted her head, watched his face.

He shook his head. “No. For Buffy Summers.”

She gaped and shoved him lightly. He laughed and almost shoved her back before restraining himself. It would no good to be found rolling around on the court steps with the Slayer. Even though it sounded like his idea of fun.

“You know, you kind of started a conversation the other day that you neglected to finish. In fact, I may even be inclined to say you ran away from said conversation like a little girl…” Buffy watched him, eyes amused. “…if I were a meaner person.”

Spike shifted. “I start a lot of conversations. Sociable man that I am. You’ll have to refresh my ailing memory.”

She arched an eyebrow but said nothing and neither did he. He figured he ought to just confess his feelings to her but, truth was, he couldn’t. Thirty years ago he’d be pouring his undead heart out to her. He’d changed since then. Closed off a little. Learnt to protect aforementioned undead heart. Because if there was one person in the whole world who could break his heart in an instant it was Buffy Summers.

He wasn’t ready to give her the chance, yet.

Besides they were in the middle of a murder trial and now was hardly the time for flowers and hearts. If they made it through this there would be plenty time to talk things through. When they were ready. When he was ready.

They sat there for a few more minutes in steady silence before Willow and Xander joined them. Wordlessly the pair sat down. Willow beside Buffy and Xander, surprisingly, beside Spike.

“Is anyone else thinking this is a way too beautiful day for a murder trial?” Xander asked, slipping his sunglasses on.

Buffy nodded. “Wanna skip court and go get an ice cream?”

“Sounds good,” he smiled.

Willow bumped shoulders with the Slayer. “We’ll all get sundaes when you’re a free woman.”

“All that fudge and syrup plays havoc with my hips,” Buffy complained.

Xander arched an eyebrow. “That’s because you’re supposed to eat it, Buffy, not dance with it.”

Spike drowned their banter out with his own thoughts. His mind couldn’t really get past the idea that Buffy might be put in jail, or worse, and he’d lose her again. He couldn’t bear that. Spike glanced over at her. She was smiling softly at Xander, at something he had said. She played the part of carefree girl very well. He knew that underneath that surface she was a mess of nerves, of insecurities.

Therein was the true Buffy Summers. Infinitely breakable. Always wary.

“It’s starting again,” Norman announced, peeking out of the doors.

It certainly was. Time for it to start again. The three friends exchanged looks but Spike remained sitting as they stood up slowly, stretching their limbs. They started away until Buffy stopped and looked back for him.

She took a step back to him and halted in the sunlight. Spike didn’t look at her, couldn’t. He still had to collect his thoughts, store them away so he could get back into the courtroom frame of mind.

Buffy turned to her friends. “Give us a minute.”

The pair looked concerned but after a moment Xander nodded and they made their way back inside, leaving Spike and Buffy alone on the steps. Spike closed his eyes and bowed his head as he felt her come up behind him.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

He laughed gently. “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?”

She said nothing and he wondered if she had gone. Then her hand rested on his shoulder and he opened his eyes and looked up at her.

And it occurred to him them. He didn’t know why exactly it was that moment when he realised. When he realised that he had never expected to look up at Buffy Summers again. Had never expected to look at her at all. Hadn’t thought he’d hear her laugh again or scowl.

Now she was here and he was caught unprepared and dazed and stupid and all those things he had told himself he would never be again.

All this occurred to him now, at the worst moment possible. At the moment when he had to go back in that courtroom and be professional and intelligent. When all he really felt like doing was staring at her endlessly, just to reaffirm that she was actually here.

“Spike,” she crouched down beside him.

He blinked, looked away. “I’ll be right in.”

She looked at him a little while then nodded and stood. And left.

+ + +

When Spike crept back into the courtroom as quietly as he could Willow was already mostly finished setting up a space for the spell. He dropped down into his seat directly behind Buffy and tried to look composed and calm. He didn’t know if it worked. No one was looking at him anyway, fascinated with what the witch was doing with some sage and candles. It was all very 1960’s pothouse. Or that’s what it reminded Spike of.

The good old days.

Willow turned to Heaton. “I’m ready to start.”

“Then, by all means, begin,” he replied.

Willow sat cross-legged on the floor and began to speak in a foreign tongue. Everyone in the room watched with rapt attention, except Spike. He’d seen the witch do her thing before, many times, and so his eyes remained fixed on the back of Buffy’s head – another thing he’d seen many times but never seemed to get bored of.

He wondered if she could feel his eyes on her and decided that even if she could she wouldn’t look back. She never looked back.

Willow’s voice rose in a crescendo as she got closer to opening the portal. Spike barely heard her. He was thinking too hard and too much and that was never a good idea. His brain wasn’t big enough, wasn’t clever enough for all that. He was a man who spoke his feelings, who yelled them, who put them into every action and every look and every expression. But he hadn’t done that for years and all that had been bottled up, had been twirling around and around inside him, something akin to a tornado, ripping him up inside. He wanted to open his mouth and scream it, scream what he felt.

Except he didn’t exactly know what he felt.

Just that it was big and important and something he hadn’t felt before, or at least not for years and years. As though it was something long forgotten and he had to relearn how to let himself feel it.

Spike opened his mouth, not sure what the hell he was about to do or say. Before he got that far Willow interrupted him.

“Open!” She shouted in English, hands raised high.

It was loud enough and jarring enough to make him blink, close his stupid mouth, and watch expectantly. Seconds ticked by. Nothing happened. It was kind of an anticlimax, he thought, but restrained himself from voicing.

Xander frowned. “Well, that was sort of an anticlimax.”

Spike rolled his eyes.

Willow looked sheepish. “Uh…open, please?”

The portal didn’t open.

“I am a gigantic idiot.”

Willow sat on Faith’s floor, knees pulled up to her chest, head in hands. She was taking this really hard. Buffy had listened to her self-deprecation ever since Heaton had drawn the day’s proceedings to a close. Lucy Porter practically had an orgasm because of the not-success of the portal opening.

“Will, that’s not true. You’re actually quite short,” Xander knelt down and patted her shoulder. Off her scowl he added. “And slender.”

Buffy closed the door to Faith’s apartment. She shed her jacket and pulled her hair free from the clip it had been bound in all day.

Xander looked at Buffy for some kind of help in consoling the witch but Buffy just shrugged, not entirely sure what she could say to make the redhead feel better.

The man scratched his chin absently. “I mean, it’s not like Buffy’s whole defence rested on you opening that portal.”

Willow gave him a very pointed look and Buffy rolled her eyes. Xander always knew the exact thing not to say. Not that she was much better, of course. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the way the trial would go from here. Despite Xander’s little comment, her defence most definitely had rested on that portal being opened. Norman had tried to assure her that they still had plenty of things on her side but Buffy knew he was worried. Extremely worried. Personally, she was kind of taking it in her stride.

She’d like to be able to say it wasn’t like her to be so detached from something so important; but it was. She’d been this way for a while now.

“I’m sorry, Buffy.” Willow sounded pretty distraught. “I don’t understand what went wrong.”

The Slayer crossed the room to her friend. “Its okay, Will. We’ll be okay.”

But then it wasn’t really about them. It was about her. It was her life, her freedom on the line. Buffy managed a slight smile that she hoped was reassuring before she turned back to the ‘kitchen’ of Faith’s apartment. She was suddenly starving.

“It was probably just performance anxiety. Everyone gets it. Not…not that I’d know,” Xander slipped an arm around Willow’s shoulder.

Willow shook her head. “No. No way. I’ve done bigger spells. Under more pressure.”

With the sparse ingredients in the vampire’s apartment Buffy just about managed to scrape together enough to make a sandwich and set about that task as her old friends mulled over what had happened. Buffy found herself wondering why Spike wasn’t here, trying to tell her it’d be okay. Then she remembered he had a daughter and a whole other life and she should stop being so goddamn self-centred. Still, he had fled the courtroom pretty fast and with barely a goodbye.

Buffy frowned as she picked up her wholesome yet non-fattening sandwich. It wasn’t like Spike to at least tell her not to worry. Shrugging, she bit into the sandwich. He’d been acting strangely all day, anyway. Maybe it was his time of the month.

“Things not go well, I take it?” Faith muttered coming up to the side of her, yanking a cupboard open.

Buffy hadn’t even realised the vampire was at home. From the way her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail – a rare sight – and the loose cord pants she wore, Buffy guessed she had been sleeping in the corner on her mattress. Buffy really needed to retest her spidey-sense.

She swallowed the food. “Portal didn’t open.”

“Bummer,” Faith slammed the door shut, bag of blood substitute in hand. “Wasn’t that like the one thing you had?” her voice was casual, disinterested.

Buffy nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Sucks,” she replied in the same tone, barely awake.

The Slayer nodded again and watched in disgusted fascination as the vampire bit into the bag and gulped down the room-temperature synthetic blood. She didn’t even vamp out, just used her normal blunt teeth. Buffy found that odd but was too busy watching to comment. Faith glanced her way and saw she was being studied.

“What? You thirsty? Plenty to share,” she arched an eyebrow.

Buffy pretended to consider this. “Nah, I’m good. So nice of you to offer, though.”

“I’m all about the niceties,” Faith turned her back and finished the blood. She tossed the bag out of the window. Buffy was torn between being appalled and amused. The vampire spun around, wiping the remainder of the liquid from her lips.

“Are Pinky and the Brain goin’ to be here all day? A girl needs to change.”

Xander looked up at that. “Don’t let us stop you.”

“Dude, I told you. You got to see all this one time. Never again. I’m sorry, I know it’s hard,” Faith looked at Buffy and murmured. “Probably literally.”

Xander heard. “Hey! I’m a married man.”

“Someone better tell your wife she married a pervert,” Faith smiled wickedly.

Xander stood and pulled Willow up by her arm. He tried for indignant. “Fine. We’ll be going then. Buffy, it’ll be fine. We’ll come up with something.”

Faith folded her arms. “Yeah, with Xander on the case how could you lose?”

“Shut up, Faith.” Xander huffed and the two of them made a slow exit. Buffy glanced at Faith. The vampire looked back at her. Buffy was pretty sure she had ushered her friends out because she knew Buffy didn’t know what to say to them. That could be called considerate and Faith had never been that.

“What?” Faith shrugged offhandedly and walked away, pulling her tank-top over her head and tossing it away. It landed on the windowsill forlornly.

Buffy said nothing, instead she decided to be a good girl and finish her sandwich. She walked over to the window and looked out, just to keep herself occupied. Faith left the apartment – sans top – to use the shared bathroom.

Buffy thought about tomorrow. Heaton had said it would be the day for character witnesses. That meant Willow, Xander and Spike would have to try and convince him that she was a good person. With the way she had been treating them lately she didn’t know if it was going to work out well or not. Presumably Lucy would be able to call people to speak out against her as well. Buffy was so looking forward to tomorrow.

“Thinking ’bout making a break for it?” Faith asked and this time she did make Buffy jump.

The Slayer turned around to face her.

“’Cos if you do, as your guardian, I’d have to jump you,” she explained.

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t give you the excuse.”

Faith laughed a little and crossed the room to a heap of clothes on the floor. She had a threadbare towel tied tightly across her collarbone, her long dark hair clinging together in wet clumps.

She turned back with clothes in her hands. “So what went wrong with the spell? Willow choke?”

“Don’t know. Just didn’t work.”

“All foreplay, no climax.” Faith wrinkled up her nose. “Hate it when that happens.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and turned back to the window as Faith got dressed.

“You know,” Faith was saying. “Way I heard it…that spell to open the portal? First time you did it, didn’t you need puppets or something? Maybe that’s the missing ingredient. Kermit and Fonzy.”

Buffy rolled her eyes then straightened up and spun around. Faith was pulling her shirt over her head but the Slayer barely noticed. “Faith! When did you become a genius?”

“Don’t know.” She snorted, smoothing the shirt down.

“The reason the spell didn’t work? Willow didn’t use the Shadowmen’s tools. She just went straight for a generic portal opening spell. But this isn’t a generic portal. It’s steeped in Slayer lore, in something much deeper than classic magick,” Buffy’s eyes lit up and she gestured at Faith. “D’you see?”

“Uh, no.” Faith slid a belt through the loops on her jeans and buckled it.

The Slayer frowned. “We proably need that Slayer’s kit. Damn it!”

“What?”

“Well, it must have been buried when Sunnydale got caved in.”

Faith tilted her head, brow creased. “Wait. Do you mean that big-assed bag that Robin had?”

Buffy nodded then stopped. “You knew Robin?”

“I came to Sunnydale a little after you’d gone on your long vacation. Met him, had him, you know how it goes.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Point is; he carried that thing with him everywhere. Belonged to his mom. He had this whole thing about his mom.” Faith pulled a face. “I’m bettin’ he’s still got it. Probably stashed it away somewhere safe.”

Buffy’s face lit up. “Faith, I could kiss you!”

The other Slayer didn’t look entirely adverse to that idea.

“But I won’t,” she added.

+ + +

“It’s definitely worth a try,” Spike nodded, even though Buffy couldn’t see him down the phone.

Oh, he had video calling but she hadn’t mastered the art of it yet and any attempts to do so usually resulted in him talking to a fuzzy image of her cleavage. He didn’t really mind this but she seemed to.

So, it was old-fashioned phone talking for now.

“You know where he is?” She asked.

Spike sat outside on his patio steps, toes pushed into the cool grass of his back yard. “No. Could find out, though.”

“You’ve got contacts?” Buffy said, voice mildly excited. “You’re like James Bond. The suit. The contacts. The…suit.”

Spike laughed. “No. I’ve got a copy of the phonebook and some time on my hands. How many Robin Woods can there be? Not too many mums that cruel.”

There was a shuffling sound. “Right. Well, I could do the phonebook thing too…Maybe with you. I mean, I could come over.”

Spike closed his eyes and rubbed at the deep creases in his forehead. “It’s probably better if you get a good nights sleep. Leave this to me. It’s about time I did something useful.”

“Oh, okay,” she paused. “But you are useful. Just to let you know. You have many uses.”

“Good to know.”

“I didn’t mean that in a ‘I’d like to use you’ way!” Buffy replied a little too quickly. “Oh, god. I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.”

Spike laughed deeply this time.

“I’m sorry,” she added, sounding sincere and also extremely embarrassed.

He looked out into the starry night. “You’ve got no reason to be. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

There was a long pause and neither of them hung up.

“Buffy, you should hang up now.”

“Right,” still she paused. “’Night, Spike.”

“Goodnight, Buffy.”

The line disconnected, beeping in his ear. He sighed and put the phone down. He buried his toes deeper in the grass. Rubbed his hands along the wooden steps.

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Mya asked from the doorway.



Spike didn’t look back at her, kept his eyes fixed on the darkness before him. How could his daughter, his teenage daughter, be wiser than him when it came to love? She seemed to know better than Spike did what he felt for Buffy. It disconcerted him, to have someone so easily read into what he was feeling. No one had been able to ascertain his feelings. No-one. Not since he’d closed the open and honest part of himself off.

“It’s not that easy,” was all he said.

And that was that.

“If you could use one word to describe Buffy Summers, what would it be?”

It was pretty much the same question Lucy Porter had asked one of the witnesses to Buffy’s slay.
Except this time it was asked by her own lawyer, Norman, to one of her best friends. She hoped she would come off sounding a little better this time.

Xander sat across the room from her looking nervous but still dignified. He was dressed in a crisp new shirt and tie, his long hair combed back and his face freshly shaven. Buffy thought he looked very handsome and probably trustworthy. Which was good.

He paused to consider his answer. “Brave.”

“Brave,” Norman repeated, shifting from foot to foot where he stood by Buffy.

“Yeah,” Xander nodded. “I mean yes.”

Norman stepped away from the table and towards him. “How so?”

“She’s it. I mean…what I’m trying to say is…people talk about champions, talk about protectors of all that’s good and merry, well, Buffy is it. Being the Slayer gave her strength and speed, sure, but I think…no, I know that even if she had none of that, none of that power, she’d still be doing what she’s always done. Helping people. Saving the world,” Xander gestured to the courtroom around him widely. “There’s no one braver than her.”

She’d kind of always known she was Xander’s hero but it still tugged at her heart to hear him say it. He’d always thought of her as invincible, powerful, the whole Amazonian package. Despite the shortness. And the many flaws in her character he often seemed to choose to ignore. He’d liked the ideal and, sometimes, she liked being that for him.

It made her uncomfortable to be put on such a pedestal now though. Especially when she knew she wasn’t “it”. Whatever it was.

Norman was smiling. “You’re a good friend of Buffy’s?”

“Best. Best friends,” Xander nodded, looking at her.

“How long have you known her?”

He shifted. “Seven…nearly eight years.”

“She a good person?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

Buffy wasn’t sure he was right there either but she was glad to have such a supportive person on her side. She needed all the help she was going to get. Especially since Spike hadn’t shown up at court today. She’d tried not to take it personally but then realised that was ridiculous since today was all about her and her wickedness and he hadn’t turned up.

She refused to believe something bad had happened and settled on the fact that he had found something more important to do. He’d certainly seemed quick to get rid of her last night on the phone. Maybe he had finally decided to sever all ties. She wouldn’t blame him but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Buffy was trying not to dwell on his absence but it niggled at her more than she would admit. She needed her friends behind her, needed her team, and Spike was part of that team. At least she’d thought he was.

God, she was so self-involved. She just hoped he was alright. And not on holiday in Bermuda or something. That would make her mad in a primal slayer way.

“Buffy’s saved my life a bunch of times,” Xander was saying enthusiastically, “Which, I guess, isn’t that great for humanity because I’ve never done too much to progress the world and all…but I really appreciated it.”

Buffy almost smiled through her melancholy. Almost.

Norman did smile politely. “Saved your life from what?”

“Vampires, mostly,” he said. “And I know we’re not supposed to use that term now but, back then, that’s what they were called.”

Her lawyer nodded. “Your life was often put in danger by Humanoids?”

“Only every day. Or night, I guess.”

Norman turned to the court. “This would have, of course, been before the fully synthetic blood was developed that tamed Humanoids appetite for blood.”

As he turned back to Xander to continue to quiz him on Buffy’s fine moral character, the Slayer looked around the courtroom. There were more people in attendance today. As if the word had got out. She recognised no one in the crowd and kind of resented them coming to watch her hang herself.

Hopefully not literally.

Buffy felt Willow’s hand pat her on the shoulder. The redhead was sitting behind her, waiting her turn to blow Buffy’s trumpet. Buffy figured that if she was thinking of things in those terms then she’d surely spent too much time around Faith.

“He’ll be here,” Willow whispered.

Buffy did not turn around, content to pretend she simply did not know who the woman meant.

“Before these murder charges were brought against Buffy, when was the last time you saw her?”

Xander looked down. “About thirty years. I couldn’t say exactly.”

“Did you miss your friend?” Norman asked.

Buffy wondered what in hell this had to do with her moral upstanding-ness but decided Norman at least appeared to know what he was doing. Sometimes.

“Every day,” Xander replied.

“Thank you, Mr. Harris.”

And that was that. Xander nodded and went to sit back behind Buffy and beside Willow. They were given a few minutes to compose themselves before Willow was called to sit in front of the audience and talk about Buffy. The Slayer figured it must be a pretty hard subject. Not one she’d have picked for her mastermind question round, that’s for sure.

Buffy drifted in and out of listening, knowing she really should be paying more attention but found she couldn’t. She remained detached and silent and solitary and no doubt painted an unsympathetic picture to those around her. She wished she cared.

She was vaguely aware of the sound of the courtroom door creaking open and footsteps on the floor, some late gawker she decided. Buffy fixed her gaze upon her fingers which rested on the table in front of her. She needed a manicure.

A chair squeaked behind her and Xander let out a little choked cough – even Buffy could smell the stench of cigarette smoke now permeating through the room, so she didn’t blame her friend. Some people just needed a new addiction. A less stinky one.

“Does Buffy hate humanoids? Or ‘vampires’?”

The question drew her attention back to Willow and Norman. The redhead’s face crinkled in a frown of mild confusion.

“No, not hate…”

Norman frowned this time. “But she kills them.”

Willow sat up straighter. “They killed first. She only killed vampires when they killed or attacked other people. It was her job. It was how she was told to be.”

He crossed his arms. “So she doesn’t have a personal vendetta against them?”

“No.”

“In your opinion, Ms. Rosenberg, could Buffy conceivably live amongst humans and humanoids without ever taking the law into her own hands again?” Norman leaned forward.

Willow nodded. “Totally! Um, yes. She knows the laws have changed and she respects that. Buffy would not attack a humanoid unprovoked. Hey, she’s dated them!”

Buffy cringed inside. She just had to bring that up. Willow locked eyes with her then blushed and gave an apologetic look.

Norman stroked his chin, all intellectual. “Dated them. Buffy Summers has been intimate with humanoids?”

“Yeah. A lot! Oh, no, not a lot of humanoids. No, she’s not loose or anything! Just the two guys. I think,” Willow flushed.

Buffy’s eyes widened, she thinks?!

Norman gave the court an amused little smile. “I think we get the point, Ms. Rosenberg.”

There was a slight chorus of laughter and Buffy sank deeper in her chair.

“So, Buffy Summers has cared for humanoids? Has, perhaps, even loved them. Hardly the feelings of someone who might, say, have a prejudiced or racist attitude to one aspect of our culture,” Norman nodded finally. “Thank you, Willow. That’s all.”

The witch gratefully stood and walked back over to Buffy. She hesitated a little for a moment and then sat down. Buffy didn’t have to question why because Heaton was putting the call out for Buffy’s third and final character witness.

“William Pratt,” he called, looking down at the papers spread out in front of him.

Buffy was expecting an audible silence so she was more than a little surprised when a voice piped up right behind her.

“Here, boss.”

She turned to look over her shoulder. Spike rose slowly from the chair, black duster unfurling around him. Buffy’s mouth may have gaped a little. He didn’t look at her as he stepped out and walked around to the front of the court. Buffy’s eyes automatically followed his progress and she heard when Lucy Porter let out a little choke of surprise.

Spike sat on the chair, slouched, a pleased little smirk on his face.

He was dressed all in black and his hair was dyed white in stark contrast. And he was Spike.

Her Spike.

“What is your relationship to Buffy Summers?”

Well, that was a loaded question. Buffy was intrigued to find out what Spike’s answer would be, in fact the only thing that was intriguing her more at that moment was Spike himself and his sudden flashback to the past look.

He looked at Norman, eyebrow raised and took a moment to fashion a reply. Buffy folded her arms and watched with interest.

“That depends,” he replied loosely.

Norman tilted his head. “Depends on what?”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of different relationships with the Slayer,” he shrugged with one shoulder. “Started off as enemies, then allies of a sort, then…more.”

“More?”

Spike smiled. “I’m not bashful but it’s not really something I think she’d appreciate me sharing with a room of…suits.”

“You were lovers?”

He paused and nodded once, slowly. “There was love involved.”

Norman inclined his head. “So, you had a sexual relationship with Miss. Summers.”

Spike rolled his eyes and then nodded again. Buffy’s cheeks burned with adolescent embarrassment. It suddenly felt like everyone was looking right at her. She sat up straighter, determined to at least look like she didn’t care.

“And you are a humanoid, is that correct?”

Spike grinned. “Yeah. In my day we called us vampires.”

“And you say that Buffy Summers was your enemy?”

“Yeah. She was the Slayer, as in Vampire Slayer, I was the vampire. I didn’t particularly want to die, so yeah, enemies,” he said it all very casually.

Norman folded his arms loosely. “Did you ever provoke an attack from Buffy?”

“Only as often as I could,” Spike grinned. “I did love a good goad.”

“This was before the blood substitute?”

“Before that, yeah, but more importantly – for me – before the chip that got stuck in my brain by the government,” he said.

Norman held up his hand. “Ah, yes. It was well documented. It was an early, and entirely inhumane, way that was first used to try and control the humanoid population.”

“Mmm hmm. And guess who the guinea pig was?” Spike’s lip curled with distaste.

Norman turned to face the court. “And yet, the chip was not the only stopping point to your battle with Miss. Summers.”

“Oh, the soul. That old thing,” Spike chuckled. “Yep, that did put a bit of damper on my taunting of the Slayer. Still I kept a hold of it, just in case it comes in use again some time.”

“Still, you could have simply done nothing. You didn’t have to become Buffy’s ally, so why did you?”

He cleared his throat and straightened up in the seat. “What you see sat in front of you now is a pale portrait of what I was back then, back before I changed. Back when all I wanted was to kill and wreak havoc. Most of you know me as I am now. I wear suits, I have a daughter, and I have – or had – a fairly important job. None of this would be possible without Buffy. And if that sounds like an exaggeration or a schoolboy crush to you…then that’s because you don’t understand.”

“You were bad and then became good?”

Spike laughed. “That’s an oversimplification. I wasn’t bad. I was evil. I killed without remorse and I loved it. Lost count of the number of humans I ate.”

The courtroom seemed to shudder as one, as though the idea that vampires considered humans to be food was better left forgotten.

Norman seemed very interested, eyes focused intensely on the vampire. “If you had never met Buffy, what do you think might have happened to you?”

“Well, I’d either be a pile of dust, or doing what I’d always done. Killing, maiming, torturing,” Spike held out his hand. “There’s a lot of blood on my hands but there’d be a lot more if it weren’t for Buffy.”

She locked eyes with him and he didn’t smile but she saw it in his eyes. Buffy felt warm inside, not the burning fiery passion of want, but the soft heat of respect and genuine caring. She cared for Spike and he cared for her.

Norman nodded. “She saved you?”

“In ways she doesn’t even realise,” Spike nodded.

Norman smiled.

“But, I’m sure you’re all extremely bored of hearing what a noble and righteous warrior Buffy is,” Spike shrugged and Norman’s smile slipped. “’Cos the thing you need to realise about her is, yes, she’s got strength and speed and skill. She is the Slayer. But she’s also Buffy Summers. She’s human. She’s fragile in all the same ways everyone else is. She gets hurt. She argues, she loves, and she falls flat on her arse as much as you and I do. And her heart breaks. She’s lost her friends, her family. She’s just like you.”

Buffy looked away, down at the table.

“So, when she sees a vampire, she doesn’t see this,” Spike gestured to himself, easily. “She sees what we don’t like to acknowledge anymore. She sees this.”

Buffy heard a collective gasp and looked up. Spike had changed into game face. His forehead creased and protruding, his eyes yellow with pinpricks of black for pupils, and his teeth sharp and long. Buffy wondered what the big fuss was about until she realised that she hadn’t seen Spike shift faces ever since she’d come back. She hadn’t seen any vampire in anything other than their perfectly human visage, apart from the one she had killed upon her arrival.

Norman looked around then back to Spike, a bit worried. “Uh –”

“Buffy sees us as monsters. That’s what we look like, there’s no denying that. She hasn’t had the time to learn the new rules. She’s fully capable of blending into this world,” Spike continued, still wearing his vampire face. “I mean, she puts up with me, one of the worst vampires of all time. Look me up, try the name William the Bloody. Chances are I’ve eaten one of your ancestors. And liked it.”

Buffy glanced at Heaton at the end of the table. He was smiling wryly as if he was enjoying the way Spike was going about trying to change the spectator’s minds. He seemed to have a lot of respect for the vampire. Buffy figured it was a pretty risky idea and Norman seemed to agree as he flapped about trying to find something to say.

Spike folded his arms. “So, you all just remember, before we were all prettied up to fit in with your ideal, we looked like this. We still do. We had dark intentions. We still do. But we contain ourselves, for the most part. Back then, all those years ago, Buffy protected you against us. When she killed Joseph Dawson she thought she was protecting a little girl. I’m sure that’ll be no consolation to his family, but she was trying to help.”

He shifted his face back to its smooth, handsome guise. “It’s all she’s ever tried to do – help.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pratt.” Norman piped up, hands clasped nervously in front of him.

“It’s Spike,” he stood. “Nice chattin’ with you. Must do it again sometime.”

He walked around the desk and Buffy watched him. He didn’t stop to sit back down behind her; instead he kept going until he reached the doors, pulled them open and strolled out. Buffy blinked. Spike sure knew how to make an entrance and an exit.


+ + +


When Buffy herself exited the courtroom she exhaled deeply. Things were so tiring here, so complicated, so hard to understand. The whole trial thing was exhausting her and all she’d done so far was sit back and look petulant.

Xander and Willow were nattering around her, mostly about Spike’s appearance which had certainly shaken things up a little. Buffy wondered where he had gone. She found herself wondering about him a lot these days.

“She’s got serious woe face,” Xander was saying.

Willow nodded. “Woe is she.”

Buffy blinked and tried a smile. “I’m just tired.”

Willow slung an arm around her shoulder. “We’ll take you home.”

“No, I think I’ll walk for a while.” She nodded. “Stretch my legs and other murderous limbs.”

Xander leaned in and hugged her quickly and warmly. “We love you, Buffy. Remember that.”

“What he said.” Willow squeezed her arm.

They left sadly and that, in turn, made Buffy sad. She didn’t want to push them away but she still felt so displaced. They had wives and lives and other things that rhymed and she didn’t. She had no life here. She certainly didn’t have a wife. She had nothing.

Buffy walked leisurely away from the courthouse, half expecting to be mobbed by an angry crowd. She passed unscathed through the streets. Nobody paid her much attention, only one guy staring at her chest. Until he realised there wasn’t much there to stare at.

She thought about Spike’s words as she walked. How he had said she thought of them as monsters. That was true, for the most part. But not him. She didn’t think of him as a monster. Not any more. In ways, she thought him more human than she was. He may have been dead but he wasn’t as cold as her. His heart didn’t beat but he loved deeper than anyone she’d ever known.

“Hey, babe! Want a ride?” Shouted the most annoying Californian Surf-dude voice.

Buffy ignored the car that had pulled up alongside her. This was obviously another thing that had not changed in the years she had been gone. She dug her hands in her pockets and carried on, thinking.

“Don’t be like that!” He continued.

Buffy idly considered staking the ‘dude’ but figured that wouldn’t help her case too much.

“Aw, come on!”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Back off before I hurt you.”

“I like the sound of that,” the voice switched to a distinctly British accent.

She turned to face the car and halted, folding her arms defensively over her chest, as she glared at the driver. “And since when do you do American accents that well?”

“Lot of practice doing Americans, I expect,” Spike smiled easily.

Buffy arched an eyebrow which caused him to laugh lightly. She noticed he had changed his clothes since his courtroom appearance to a white t-shirt and blue jeans. The hair was still blonde but mussed up considerably. He motioned her over and she approached slowly, as though still annoyed.

“Need a lift home?” He asked.

She shook her head, peering in his window. “Feel like walking.”

“What a coincidence. So do I.” He killed the engine and stepped out, locking the car.

Buffy unfolded her arms. “You’re gonna lift me home like that?”

“I’m a master at the piggyback,” he shrugged. “Or I might just walk with you.”

“Probably wise.”

They started off down the street and Spike walked at a slow pace with her, not too close but not too distant. It was weird to just walk with Spike. Not on patrol. Not during one of their screaming arguments. Just walking. Weird.

They didn’t speak much. Buffy ribbed him about his hair but didn’t mention that she was secretly quite happy to see it. He told her about his efforts to contact Robin, which had proved fruitless so far. They didn’t talk directly about the trial and she grateful for that.

On the way they stopped off in a bookshop to buy Mya something she needed for school and it all felt incredibly domesticated and Buffy didn’t mind. Doing normal things were good and doing them with Spike seemed to be good too.

“You should go out tonight,” he said as they left the shop.

Buffy frowned at him. “Go out where?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “Out. To a club or whatever. You could take Faith or someone.”

She pushed her hair back behind her ear. “Why?”

“Just to get out, Buffy. It’s not good being shut inside all the time,” Spike shifted his shopping bag from one arm to the other. “You’re young.”

Buffy smiled a little. “Okay, dad.”

He snorted. “Oh, fuck off. I’m just sayin’.”

“I know.” She sighed. “But I’m kind of in the middle of a murder trial.”

He shrugged. “All the more reason. No trial tomorrow. You can’t let it rule your life. Have some fun. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

“You never go out.”

“We’re not talking about me.”

“Well, why not?”

Spike shook his head. “’Cos I’m not half as interesting.”

“Some people might disagree,” she looked at him sideways. “I know what you’re trying to do. Getting me to go out with Faith. Have a night of female bonding and girl power! I’m too old for that, too tired.”

He snorted. “Too old. Yeah.”

“Besides, a night of bonding with Faith would probably turn into bondage.”

Spike looked at her. “I’m seeing no downsides here.”

Buffy shoved him lightly. “How about a compromise?”

“Partial bondage with Faith?” He asked.

“No,” Buffy breeze past that. “How about you and Mya come round and have dinner?”

Spike paused. “Will you be cooking?”

“Hell no.”

“Okay then.”

“So how come it’s okay for you to invite people over to my place without my permission and I have to cook?” Faith asked as she set the plates down on a crate she’d stolen to use as a table.

Buffy smoothed out the blanket on the floor. “Faith, I wouldn’t call buying food from a Chinese takeaway and putting it on a plate 'cooking'.”

“Missing the point, B.”

The Slayer shrugged. “I like to think of it as our place.”

“Oh yeah? That mean you’re gonna be contributing to the rent anytime soon?”

“Only with my sunny smile and chipper disposition.”

Faith snorted. “That don’t pay the bills, B.”

If Buffy were to be perfectly honest, she did feel guilty not paying anything towards her board to the other Slayer. She didn’t have a job and couldn’t get one due to the whole murder trial thing.

Faith padded around barefoot, hair tied up in a tight ponytail, as she kicked bits of junk into one corner and cracked open a couple of windows to air the place out. Their mattress had been pushed to one side and covered up too. Buffy was weirded out that she was now referring to it as their mattress.

Luckily there was a knock at the door and Buffy could brush that terrifying thought away. She skipped up to the door and pulled it open. Mya barrelled into her giving her a warm hug. Buffy was a little surprised but returned the embrace, albeit a little less tightly. The girl had made an effort and was dressed up, looking beautiful and way beyond her years. She stepped in and Spike appeared a second later. He was dressed in a black shirt and grey slacks. His hair was back to being brown and Buffy eyed it, surprised.

“Hair dye of the future is much improved,” was his only explanation.

He smiled and she returned it. They hovered in the doorway a moment before Buffy remembered she was supposed to let him in. Yet she still didn’t move. Spike arched an eyebrow and then stepped towards her, no doubt hoping she’d move back. She didn’t. He halted awkwardly.

“Uh, Buffy?” Spike shifted from foot to foot.

She blinked. “Right. Sorry.”

Mya appeared at her side. “He has that effect on women. Of a certain kind.”

Spike folded his arms. “What kind would that be?”

“Slayers, mostly,” Mya grinned.

Buffy flushed and turned away. “There was no effect.”

Faith gave Mya a wry look, which the teenager duly returned. Buffy felt as though she’d been ganged up on. Spike seemed to find it all slightly amusing as he walked into the main body of the apartment. Buffy went back to straightening up the ‘table’.

“You look nice, Buffy.” Mya said, sidling up to her father. “Doesn’t she, father dearest?”

“She is nice.”

Faith pulled a face. “Yeah, the girls a peach.”

“The girl is right here,” Buffy turned to them, hands on hips. “And your dinner is getting cold.”

Faith sauntered over to the food. “I slaved over a hot stove for all of you.”

“A stove? Whatever, Martha Stewart.” Mya slumped down onto the floor by the crate.

Buffy arched an eyebrow in Spike’s direction. “The kids are still down with Martha?”

“She watches the History Channel an unhealthy amount,” Spike explained.

“Cooks who are crooks amuse me.” Mya added.

Buffy sat down beside the girl. “It takes all kinds, I guess.”

They started on the meal. Buffy and Mya being the only humans in the group had the majority of the share, whereas Spike and Faith had a little to create the illusion they didn’t just want to suck everyone’s blood. Faith was kindly sharing some of her blood substitute with Spike and while Buffy was grateful she just hoped it didn’t mean Faith would find her supply short and go looking for her meals elsewhere. Such as Buffy.

“I saw Angel today,” Faith announced suddenly. “Went to see him, I mean.”

Buffy looked at the woman who sat opposite her. “How is he?”

“He’s alright. Worried ’bout you, but okay.”

The Slayer looked back down at her plate. “I should visit more.”

“I think he gets you’re kind of in the middle of something at the moment,” Faith tapped her fork against the crate. “’Sides, he gets to see me. So what else does he really need?”

Buffy glared at her hotly and both Mya and Spike laughed, Faith grinning at her to show how much she loved riling up her fellow Slayer. Buffy shook her head but ended up smiling softly, too. It was pretty weird to be sitting with Spike and his kid and Faith and just enjoying being a part of it. Even if she seemed to be the butt of everyone’s jokes.

“So, dad really had that insanely glowing hair back in the day, huh?” Mya eyed her father across the crate.

Buffy laughed. “He really did.”

“God, here it comes.” Spike shook his head and looked down. “You gave your word you wouldn’t mention the hair.”

Mya tilted her head. “Haven’t you learnt my word means nothing?”

“Well, that’s it. No more watching The Notebook and braiding each other’s hair ever again!” Spike replied.

Her mouth gaped in mock surprise. “But, father, it’s a classic love story which has really stood the test of time!”

“I don’t care. I will never again watch Ryan Gosling get fat and beardy in the name of love. Never!”

Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise and amusement, meeting a similar look from Faith. The two Slayers watched the banter between father and daughter and exchanged a genuine, if brief, smile. Buffy’s mind wandered to Dawn and her mood fell. She looked down at her food and pushed it around the plate with her fork.

She had the horrible and sudden feeling she was going to cry.

Buffy bit her lip and concentrated on studying the wood grain of the crate, or the weaving of the blanket they all sat upon. She didn’t understand why it was hitting her now but she missed Dawn and Giles fiercely in that moment.

“Buffy?”

She blinked and looked up, eyes probably looking embarrassingly watery. It was Spike who had spoken. He looked concerned. Now she was hideously embarrassed. She took in a deep breath and plastered a fake smile onto her face.

“Yeah?”

He paused a moment, regarding her. “I know you don’t want to talk shop…but I think I might have tracked down Wood. Could be good news in getting the Slayer’s kit.”

“Oh. That’s good,” she nodded.

“Yeah…” Spike sighed and looked away.

Buffy winced inwardly. She should have shown more emotion, positive emotion. After all, it was a big deal if they could get the portal open. It could save her. Spike and the rest of the gang were trying so hard to help her but she couldn’t even help herself.

It made her question her motivation for this dinner. What was the point of this little get-together if she was in prison or, worse, dead? Was this a last supper? Was she subconsciously saying goodbye to them?

Mya and Faith looked awkward at the sudden cool atmosphere. They didn’t get it. It was often like this between Buffy and Spike. Even when they were friendly they were only minutes, only moments, away from a fight.

“Wood? Robin Wood? Your ex, right Faith?” Mya piped up.

Faith shrugged with one shoulder. “Kind of. Oh hey, he tried to kill your dad once!” she delivered it like it was the best news ever.

Buffy and Mya both turned sharply to look at Spike. He returned the looks easily as if waiting for one of them to ask.

“Why?” They both spoke simultaneously.

“Why’d you think?” This question was directed at Buffy with not a little scorn.

She held his angry gaze. “You. You killed his mother?”

“She was a Slayer. It’s kind of what I did."

Spike stood up and turned his back on the table, stalking over to one of the windows.

“She was the Slayer on the Subway?” Buffy’s curiosity got the better of her.

“That’d be the one.”

The room went silent.

“Sheesh,” Mya took a gulp of her coke, hand shaking just a little. “Who knew murder could be so awk-ward.”

Buffy admired Mya so much in that moment. To hear about her father’s past crimes, horrible, terrible things and to be able to see past it. To see the Spike he was now, without his past deeds tarnishing him. Buffy wished it was that simple for her, that easy. Or maybe it wasn’t easy at all, maybe it was incredibly hard and Mya was just a better person than her.

Faith cleared her throat. “I’ll talk to Robin, if you want. He’d probably at least take my call.”

“Thank you, Faith.” Spike said without turning around.

Buffy knew what he was thinking. That even Faith was trying to help, trying to make a difference. Whereas Buffy was sat on her ass doing nothing. She looked away from him, down at her hands. They had no adornments, no jewellery. No wedding ring. Not like him. Not like her friends.

When she looked up, however, she noticed his left hand no longer showed the simple silver band.

Before she had time to process that Faith stood up and began clearing the plates and glasses away. Buffy knew it must be serious if Faith, of all people, was clearing up. Mya cleverly roped herself into helping Faith wash the dishes, to get out of the tense atmosphere.

Buffy stayed sitting on the floor by the stupid makeshift crate table feeling pretty stupid herself. She thought about leaving but considering she lived there that would be pretty stupid too. So she sat.

Spike continued to peer out of the window. Buffy wished they could just hit each other and sort it out like they always had; with a good bout of violence. Except they couldn’t do that. He’d matured, he had a daughter to set an example to and Buffy knew it wasn’t really all that healthy. Still, it had been easier than this. This silence.

Buffy gave herself a mental mind slap and stood up. She walked the couple of steps over to stand directly behind the vampire. He didn’t acknowledge her.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Spike paused. “For what?”

“I’m sorry you think I don’t care.”

He turned slowly to face her. “Do you care?”

Buffy looked at him for a moment. “I care, Spike.”

“It doesn’t seem that way.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m not like you. I don’t – I can’t – wear my heart on my sleeve. That’s not me.”

Spike folded his arms and leaned against the windowsill, eyes sweeping over her. He watched her for a while not saying anything and it made her incredibly self-conscious. In the year before she’d stepped into that portal he’d almost made a habit of avoiding looking at her. Now he was memorising her. She shifted from foot to foot, unsure. She didn’t know if her statement was satisfactory to him but it was the truth.

“Okay,” he said finally.

Buffy was a little surprised. “Okay?”

“I know you’re a private person. I know you keep it all bottled up. That’s fine. As long as I know it’s not all for nothing. That you want to be here. With me.” Spike spoke softly. “With us.”

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out and she had the odd sensation that she was going to cry again. Buffy looked away from him and blinked, trying to keep herself in check.

“Buffy, it’s alright,” he whispered, moving towards her. “If you want –”

“CAKE!” Faith called out suddenly, walking towards them with plates in her hand.

Buffy took a big step back away from Spike as Mya followed the female vampire back to the ‘seating area’. Faith shoved a plate at her.

“I’m not really hungry…” Buffy started.

“Oh please, you’re like one big bone. And not even the good kind,” Faith slapped the other plate into Spike’s resistant hand.

The Slayer glared. “Gee, thanks.”

“It took me hours to bake this cake,” Faith pointed at each of them in turn. “So you better eat it and like it.”

Spike arched an eyebrow and picked his slice up. “I didn’t know you baked, Faith.”

“It came out of a box!” Buffy exclaimed.

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” Faith gave a sympathetic look and took a plate when Mya handed her one. “Eat up, kiddies.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and half-heartedly ate her cake. She still couldn’t believe she’d been on the verge of bursting into tears with Spike present. God, how unbearable would that have been? And to have Mya and Faith witness the meltdown too? She’d never been so relieved to have Faith there to interrupt at the most inappropriate time.

Spike was trying to catch her eye, so she looked anywhere but at him. It seemed like the mature thing to do. He had wolfed down his dessert and set the plate on the sill of the window. Faith gave him an impressed look and followed suit. Weird how the vampires had the biggest appetite. Or, maybe not weird, just scary.

“You know what this not-at-all-uncomfortable shindig needs? Alcohol! I’ll just go down to the store. Hey, kid, you’re with me,” Faith gestured to Mya.

Spike took a step forward. “I don’t think that’s –”

“Girl’s gotta learn the fine art of a beer run sooner or later.” Faith grabbed Mya’s arm and pulled her along.

“I haven’t finished my cake.” Mya protested wide eyed.

Faith ignored her. “We won’t be long. But long enough, okay? Later!”

And with that she’d pulled the door open, wrenched Mya out with her and slammed it shut. Spike stood looking at where the vampire and his daughter had been standing only moments before, mildly stunned.

Buffy picked at her dessert. “Wow, that was subtle. Then again we are talking about Faith.”

Spike turned to face her slowly, a look crossing his face. “Let’s talk.”

If her life had been a cartoon Buffy would have gulped. Instead she set her plate down on the windowsill next to Spike’s and nodded once.

Spike stood in the middle of Faith’s apartment and watched the woman before him, her face running the gauntlet of emotions – fear, embarrassment, bitterness, calm. She settled on this, on this calm and controlled look that he’d seen so many times before. The look that said she was preparing for battle, preparing to fight. Spike didn’t want to fight. He just wanted to talk. For Buffy, that was one and the same.

He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets, unsure how to start. This conversation had been a long time coming and now it was here he was uncertain of what to say. She was a tricky one, this girl. He knew that saying the wrong thing would cause her to hoist her defences up even higher and he wouldn’t have a chance to say what he needed to say, to hear what he needed to hear. He had to be careful. She was like defusing a bomb. It had to be a delicate and careful process with a hint of danger involved.

In the past he might have started by saying something designed to annoy or enrage her. He’d got a litter wiser since then and realised making a Slayer angry was not good for his health. Even if it did tend to lead to great sex. With Buffy, anyway. She was interesting like that.

In any case Buffy robbed him of deciding what to say first because it was she who spoke.

“You want to talk, Spike,” she folded her arms. “Talk.”

Spike almost smiled. She was so defensive. He’d never met a girl so unwilling to talk about how she felt. He’d never tell her but he kind of liked it. It was refreshing and excruciating and frustrating all at the same time. She’d always been a bit of an enigma. Had a persona usually reserved for skulking in the shadow Angel-types, men wearing dark clothes and darker expressions. And here she was – this girl with blonde hair and girly clothes and tiny fists and so much courage. She was brave and afraid at the same time. Spike loved that.

“I do want to talk. But mostly I want you to talk,” Spike said, taking a step closer but no more. “You close yourself off. I know this. But it’s just me and you now. So, it’s time you said something. Anything. About what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Buffy looked at him, hazel eyes locked on his. She still had that expression on her face. The expression that said she was thinking very carefully about what she said next. Didn’t want to give too much away. She sighed lightly and looked away over her shoulder to the view outside the grimy window. Spike waited. He would wait until she was ready. It’s what he did.

She let her folded arms fall down by her sides and walked towards and around him. Spike didn’t follow her with his eyes, remained facing the windows. He could hear her pacing barefoot behind him in the kitchen area.

“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking,” she said finally, so soft he nearly didn’t catch it.

“Buffy,” Spike closed his eyes in annoyance. “I do. I always want to know.”

“Even if it’s not what you want to hear?”

“You don’t know what I want to hear.”

“Sure I do,” she replied, voice close. “You want me to say that I want you to save me.”

Spike scowled and did turn to face her then. She was only a couple of steps away from him. She didn’t look angry. She looked impassive. As though they were discussing the weather. It made him pause.

He shook his head slowly. “You really think that?”

“I think you want me to need you.” Buffy shrugged, going for casual but he saw it for what it was. That she was afraid and trying not to show it.

“That’s not true.”

“You don’t want me to say I need your help?”

Spike gritted his teeth. “I do want you to admit you need help. It doesn’t have to be mine, Buffy.”

She tilted her head and regarded him as he’d done to her so many times. Her eyes were sad and he looked into them deeply. Buffy looked down to avoid his gaze. She seemed at a loss for what to say. He waited.

“I could…” she clenched and unclenched her fist, studying the floor. “I could never ask.”

Spike frowned. “Of course you can. Buffy, these people love you. Willow, Xander, even Faith in a way…”

“But not you.” She looked up, locking eyes.

“Buffy –”

“No,” The Slayer held up a hand. “I don’t know why I said that. That’s so not the point. The point is they’ve grown up. They’re different. I stayed being the same useless person. They’re not the people I used to know. They’ve lived great lives. I’ve never gotten out of Sunnydale!”

Spike threw his hands up. “You think that matters?”

“It does matter, Spike!”

“No it bloody doesn’t!” He replied, yelling back. “So, they’ve gotten married, moved houses, and got jobs - so what? They’re still the same people. They still care about you and want to help you. But they need to know you want that help, Buffy. ’Cos if you keep this up they will leave. You’ll have no one.”

Buffy gestured open-armed at the room around her. “Maybe that’s better. It’d sure be simpler. I’m a Slayer, Spike. I’m supposed to be alone.”

“Well, that’s bollocks.”

“Well, thanks.” She huffed and turned her back on him.

Spike felt like kicking her, instead he counted to ten before speaking. “The reason you’ve survived this long, the reason you’re so strong, so unbeatable is because you surround yourself with good people. Willow and Xander are good people. Dawn and Giles were good people.”

“And they died,” she said quietly.

“Everyone dies, Buffy,” he replied. “They certainly didn’t die because of you.”

Her shoulder line turned rigid. “I wasn’t here. I could’ve changed it.”

“No. You couldn’t.” Spike took another step towards her. “They died and that’s a terrible thing, worse because you weren’t here, but you’re in no way to blame. It’s alright to miss them, you should miss them. I miss Dawn and I don’t have anyone to talk to about her.”

Buffy didn’t reply and didn’t turn around, standing stock-still facing an empty wall. Spike didn’t know if touching her was a good idea but then he’d always had a stubborn streak of stupidity, so he reached out and placed his palm on her shoulder blade. When she didn’t immediately pull away Spike took it as a good sign.

“She was young,” Buffy said almost inaudibly. “Way too young.”

Spike nodded. “When you’ve lived a hundred years that tends to be true of most.”

Her shoulders dropped beneath his touch and Spike could see, could actually see, the weight this girl carried upon them each day. It was too much, far too much for one person.

“I don’t mean to seem ungrateful,” Buffy said, switching topics without warning and making it hard for him to adjust. “I’m not. I’m really not. It’s just somewhere along the line…I stopped being the girl who shared with her friends. I became the girl who protects her friends. From everything. Even me.”

He studied the way her hair curled around her ear. “They don’t need protecting from you.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” she stepped away from his reach and turned to face him. “I hurt people.”

“You help people.”

Buffy smiled sadly and the sight of it nearly cracked his heart in two. “I killed that little girl’s father. He might’ve been a vampire but he was still her dad. In…in another world, another life, that could have been you. I could have taken you away from Mya.”

“No, Buffy. You can’t think like that.”

“But I do think like that, Spike,” she shrugged, looked down and kicked her feet against the floor. “I don’t know how you can side with me. You’re a vampire and you want vampire rights. I killed an innocent one.”

“There’s no such thing as an innocent vampire, love,” he reached out and grabbed her arms. “Just like there’s no such thing as an innocent human. And you were just doing your job. You’d no idea things had changed. You believed he was goin’ to hurt that girl so you reacted to stop that. That’s what makes you a hero.”

“I’m not!” She snapped breaking out of his hold, angrily. “I’m not a goddamn hero, Spike. How can you, of all people, say that?”

Spike let his hands drop. “’Cos I see it every day.”

“Yeah, because the way I treated you was so heroic.”

“Even heroes aren’t perfect, Buffy.” He smiled.

She let out a sound of intense annoyance. “You. Don’t. Get. It.”

“Oh, I get it. I know more than you think,” Spike replied, face serious again. “I know that you think because you’re moody, selfish, sarcastic, self-righteous –”

Buffy scowled. “This going somewhere?”

“– and cold, that you’re not a hero. But none of those things matter. Like I said, heroes aren’t perfect. They’re all incredibly flawed soppy gits. What makes you one is that you don’t want to be a hero, but you still are.”

“No part of that made sense,” she replied.

“You’re a good person. As a bad person, I can tell.”

Buffy sighed. “You’re not a bad person, Spike.”

“We could have this argument all night.”

“We were always good at that,” she ran a hand anxiously through her hair. “I’m good at being difficult.”

Spike nodded. “Don’t I know it.”

“I think they’ll see that. The people in the court. Heaton. He’ll see it. He’ll see what everyone sees when they look at me, Spike; a stupid blonde girl with too much attitude.” She walked slowly over to the kitchen, leaned wearily on a counter. “He’ll see all those things you said I am. All the bad things and none of the good. I won’t win.”

He leaned on the other side of the counter, face-to-face with her and she didn’t shrink back, just watched him tiredly, eyes blinking slowly. She may have been a mere girl at twenty two years of age but behind her eyes she had grown old, her spirit had weathered so many storms.

“You won’t win if you do this alone,” he conceded. “If you pretend like you don’t care whether you live or die. You’ll lose, then.”

Buffy flexed and released her hands, looking at them. “I’ve gotten kind of used to doing things by myself.”

“That a good thing?”

“I guess not, Dr. Phil.”

He tilted his head. “I bet if I was Texan you’d listen to me.”

“Nyah, I wouldn’t count on it, besides Dr. Phil is from Oklahoma.” One corner of her mouth lifted in a vague impression of a smile. “Tell me honestly; even if I do everything you say…do I have a chance of winning this case?”

Spike rested his chin on his hand. “Yes, I think so. If you do everything I say. Let’s start with a striptease.”

“That was one time,” Buffy growled but it was playful.

“We’ll see,” Spike smiled. “But you can win this. You have to at least try.”

She gathered herself for a moment. “I can do that.”

Spike nodded. They remained like that for a long while, silent and resting, watching each other. Spike didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching Buffy. If she did try, if she did work with her lawyer and her friends and him then he had to believe they could win the trial. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate and so he didn’t.

It was Buffy who moved first – but not away from him. She reached out her hand to brush a strand of his hair behind his ear. He’d stopped gelling his hair a while back, content to let it get as messy as it wanted. Besides, Mya had told him he was clinging to misguided youth by using hair products. He hated to tell her that as a vampire he’d be forever young. Although, he didn’t feel it a lot of the time.

Buffy’s fingers were warm against his face. He’d missed the touch of a woman, missed it more than he realised. It wasn’t even a sexually charged gesture, just a simple, almost casual, touch. But it had been so long for him.

“What do you want me to do?” She spoke softly, warm breath on his face.

The direct question surprised him but not in an entirely bad way. He had several things running through his mind to answer the question. Buffy waited and he could hear her heart beating steadily. He must have taken too long to formulate a response because the Slayer’s face frowned and she clicked her fingers in front of his face sharply.

“Hello, Spike? I’m talking about the court case.”

Now he felt like an idiot. If he could blush he was sure he’d be flaring up good and proper at that moment. He cleared his throat and nodded a bit too rapidly. Buffy watched him with confusion and mild curiosity, as though she was perhaps beginning to realise what track his mind had actually been on. So, naturally, he had to say something quick to distract her.

“Strategy! Yeah, uh, we need to talk to Norman. About that. Strategy.”

She gave him one last look of interest before switching back to her usual placid expression. “Okay. I’ll call him in the morning.”

“Good. Christ, I wonder what’s taking Faith so long,” he stood up straight and rubbed the back of his neck, still embarrassed. “If she’s turned Mya into an old drunk, I’ll stake her.”

Buffy remained leaning on the kitchen counter. “If I recall correctly, Faith’s favourite activities to do with teenage girls is to take them to a really seedy club and dance a lot.”

“Well, that’s fine for you two, more than fine, but not my girl!”

“Relax,” Buffy smiled. “I’m sure Mya is dancing with the nice boys. And girls.”

Spike glared at her. “She’ll be doing nothing with anyone, nice or not, till she’s at least thirty. Possibly forty.”

“Whoa, get a grip, controlling father! The girl is hot. She’ll be dating in no time and you can’t stop her,” she pointed at him. “Trust me. I know.”

He folded his arms tightly. “Let’s just hope she has better taste in men than you, then.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she grinned at him. “I think I did okay.”

Spike didn’t know what to say to that and so he instead walked to the apartment door, pulled it open and looked out into the hall. There was no one in sight. He closed the door and turned back to her. She had moved back to the ‘dining area’ and sat back on the floor by the crate. Spike walked over and sat next to her, at a polite distance.

She eyed him from the corner of her eye. “You’re a good dad.”

“I’m the best. I have a mug that says so,” he replied, wryly.

“I mean it. I wish my dad had been more like you,” Buffy tapped her fingers against the crate.

“Oh god,” Spike sighed. “Please don’t start to think of me as a father figure. That’s too depressing.”

“And incest-y.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, thanks.”

Buffy laughed. “Just throwing that in there.”

“It’s good that we’re close enough to share incest jokes, really.” Spike’s eyebrows rose and he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

When Buffy said nothing more he turned to look at her, surprised to find she was staring straight at him. When she didn’t look away or say anything Spike laughed nervously. She didn’t laugh.

He turned away. “What a day –”

“It is good,” Buffy interrupted.

Spike arched an eyebrow. “The day?”

“That we are close,” she amended. “I never thought…of all the people in my life, I never thought it’d be you.”

“What would be me?” He asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

Buffy shrugged slowly, looking down at nothing. “The one I count on.”

Spike’s breath left him in one long exhalation. It wasn’t like he needed to breathe but at that moment he felt like he was suffocating. He had no idea how to react. Buffy looked up and must have seen something on his face because she smiled reassuringly and he knew she didn’t expect him to say or do anything.

He loved her.

But he didn’t say it.

“Are you all done in there?” Faith suddenly called from outside the door.

Buffy replied. “We’re done.”

Buffy watched Lucy Porter stride across the courtroom confidently. The Slayer had made an effort today to listen and absorb what was being said and what it would mean for her. She’d also made an effort to look like an upstanding member of the community. She was wearing heels, a skirt and a neat blouse and had applied just enough make-up to resemble a ‘respectable kindergarten teacher’. Xander had informed her of the resemblance. He seemed to think it was a good thing. Willow and Spike had said nothing but had nodded their approvals.

She just wished she’d had a pair of glasses to complete the look. She’s always wanted glasses, damn it.

“While it is true that a Slayer is – or was – primarily instructed by The Council, in the past when Buffy Summers was allegedly in her slaying peak, a Slayer always had a Watcher.” Lucy stopped by her desk.

Buffy could see where this was going. She steeled herself against it. It would do no good to show the lawyer how much this was going to hurt her.

“Buffy Summers’ Watcher was none other than Rupert Giles,” she said an octave louder, letting the courtroom digest this with predictable shock. “A name which we are all, unfortunately, familiar with.”

Buffy’s fist clenched involuntarily and she forced herself to relax it. Norman had tried to prepare her for this. Giles’ name would be dragged through the mud and she just had to deal with it. Having an outburst would not do her any favours.

Lucy gestured with her hand towards the Slayer. “Miss. Summers was mentored by Rupert Giles for seven years. As her Watcher his responsibility would have been to train and guide her. I don’t think it’s too much of a leap to say that she would have been influenced by him –”

“Objection,” Norman stood. “How can the prosecution possibly know what will and won’t influence my client?”

Heaton arched an eyebrow at Lucy.

“It’s a reasonable assumption,” she argued. “And I would like to read a few passages from Mr. Giles’ diaries to back it up, if I may?”

Heaton nodded slowly. “Proceed.”

The lawyer nodded in reply and picked up a tattered leather-bound book. Buffy remember it vaguely, remembered Giles’ scribbling in it, forehead creased in concentration.

Lucy cleared her throat. “‘Buffy shows great potential. She is able to dispatch vampires with veritable ease, using her surroundings to her advantage. Unfortunately she shows a streak of recklessness and unpredictability also. I fear she could stray. Such strength in such a young girl has the power to corrupt and distort a person.’”

Buffy frowned. She had never read Giles’ diaries because they were private and, though largely about her, she supposed she’d never really wanted to know what he truly felt about her.

“And on another occasion Mr. Giles writes, ‘She is so angry. She kills with such vigour and violence and rage. She has suffered much and I hope this is just a phase, for her sake and ours.’” Lucy looked up and let that soak in.

Buffy shifted in her seat, uncomfortable and irritable. These writings had to be taken out of context.

She looked back down at the book. “‘Today Buffy set fire to a vampire nest. It was done coldly and her face was untroubled, calm. I still do not know why.’”

Buffy’s nails dug into the palm of her hand.

“‘I fear for her sanity. She is so angry all of the time. She pushes away people who love her and instead chooses to spend her time with monsters. She goes out slaying every night, alone, coming back with that expression on her face. An expression of controlled loathing. I wonder, is it them she loathes? Or is it us?’”

Lucy turned to her as she said that. Buffy returned her gaze. The lawyer walked closer to her, still holding the book, she read again. “‘The end of days approaches. Buffy doesn’t trust her friends, her family, even me. She accused us today of not watching her back. Instead she chooses to align herself with a vampire! A dangerous and unpredictable one at that. I don’t know how it has come to this.’”

Lucy set the book down and turned to Heaton. “So, it would seem that having a Watcher with such strong anti-humanoid views turned Miss. Summers from a normal girl to a bitter and angry killing machine.”

“Objection!” Norman’s bolted up. “The accounts of a personal diary does not necessarily represent the full – or even a fraction – of the picture.”

Heaton inclined his head. “You are correct, Mr. Wagner. Miss. Porter – do be careful.”

“Of course,” she smiled slightly.

Buffy hated her. The Slayer sat up straighter as the lawyers returned to their seats. Lucy Porter remained seated only briefly as she straightened up some papers on her desk, then she stood, a sheet in hand.

“In the past, Buffy Summers was associated with Rupert Giles. Rupert Giles was a known racist. It’s well documented, as we all know. Now, it was noted in an earlier testimony that Miss. Summers had ‘dated’ humanoids,” Lucy stood in the centre of the room. “We know one of those was William Pratt. The other humanoid she dated, however, was not disclosed.”

Buffy looked at Norman, eyebrows raised. He looked back at her unsure. They had pretty much known Giles would be used against her but neither had considered Angel.

“His name is Liam, surname unknown. He is better known as Angel. Or Angelus.” Lucy held up a picture of a young looking Angel. “Some of you may know him. He has killed hundreds, maybe thousands, of humanoids and humans. Even after the laws were passed instating equal rights he continued to ‘slay’ law abiding humanoids. He is currently serving multiple life sentences in a high security prison for murder and hate crimes.”

She picked up another sheet from her desk and Buffy watched her cross back to the middle of the room with a sense of dread.

“Another little side note about Miss. Summers? It’s not only humanoids she has dated. I have a photo here dated just a couple of weeks ago of Miss. Summers and another one of her ex-boyfriends,” Lucy lifted the picture.

Buffy groaned inwardly. It was a grainy, but nevertheless clear, picture of herself and Riley Finn. The prosecution had hired someone to follow her? It shouldn’t have surprised her but it did and it annoyed her that she hadn’t been aware of it. Norman turned to her sharply, clearly caught unawares. She had failed to mention her little chat with Riley to him and he clearly wanted to know what was about to happen. He didn’t have to wait long.

Lucy pointed to Riley. “The man in this photo seen talking with Miss. Summers is one Riley Finn. He is ex-military and currently a prominent member of Humans For Humans.”

Several utterances of disgust and curses rose from the spectators behind her and Buffy looked at Norman apologetically. He wasn’t prepared for this.

The lawyer showed the pictures again to the court before placing them in front of Heaton and walking back towards her desk as she spoke. “So, Buffy Summers was mentored by a tyrannical anti-humanoid Watcher and was involved with two murdering vigilantes. Both of whom she is still in contact with. I think it’s fair to say Miss. Summers has a type.”

Norman started to object but Lucy made a gesture and withdrew the statement, but it had already been said and that was the whole point. The lawyer sat back at her desk, content.

Heaton paused a moment, looking at the photos of the men. “Mr. Wagner, do you have anything to add?”

“No, sir.” He said.

“Let’s adjourn.”

+ + +


“Well, I’m screwed.” Buffy pushed her lunch around her plate. “I’m Buffy the Screwed Slayer. McBuffy the McScrewed.”

Willow shook her head. “No, you’re so not.”

“You never mentioned Riley,” Xander pointed out.

Buffy shrugged. “It didn’t seem important. It was like a five minute conversation. Norman hates me now.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s your lawyer,” Willow replied.

“Exactly. I’d hate me if I was my lawyer.” Buffy sighed and put her fork down, looking around the diner. “Where’d Spike go?”

Xander pulled a face. “He split.”

“He said he’d be back,” Willow added.

The Slayer nodded but didn’t know what to think about that. So she moved on, thinking about her friends who were actually around. “I know this is a weird time to say it – over a frankly disgusting plate of hummus – but I want to thank you. Both of you. For still caring.”

Willow smiled. “Of course we still care, Buffy.”

“We’re caring types,” Xander confirmed.

“I mean it. Thank you.”

They both smiled and Buffy spontaneously gave in to the urge to lean across the table and double hug them. She sat back in her seat just as a huge leather bag was slammed down on the table. Right on her plate of hummus. Buffy looked up at Spike, annoyed.

His attention was on Willow. “Slayer’s kit. Faith wrangled it off Wood. Think this might help with the portal?”

“It couldn’t hurt!” Willow opened the bag and started digging through it. “I think I can still remember how…”

Spike smiled. “Good. We could do with some good news about now.”

Buffy couldn’t help but notice the way he said ‘we’. It surprised her how much she was starting to like it. As though they were all in this together. She guessed they were. She felt an overwhelming love for her friends right then.

Willow was still rooting through the bag and she placed a book down on the table and left it there. Buffy picked it up, casually. It said nothing on the front. She opened it and on the first page it said “The Slayer’s Handbook”. Buffy was surprised. She had heard about it but had never read it. Buffy figured maybe now was the time so she kept it aside. Spike noticed but said nothing.

“That lawyer woman is pretty scary,” Xander noted, eating his fries absently.

Spike dropped down into the seat beside Buffy. “Porter’s all mouth and no trousers.”

“She wears a skirt very well though,” Xander observed.

“Looks good out of it, too,” Spike agreed.

Buffy turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?”

“Great legs,” Spike replied easily.

“Oh, really?”

Spike finally seemed to realise she was a bit irate. “What?”

The Slayer scowled and slumped back in her chair. Men were so stupid.

Xander cleared his throat. “Um, anyway, Norman’s gonna be able to counter all her arguments, right?”

“Oh yeah, no doubt,” Spike murmured. “She’s got some key weaknesses as a lawyer. I’ll help him find them.”

“I’m sure you will.” Buffy grumbled looking out of the window.

Spike started to say something before Willow interjected. “So, I’m going to go and see if I can do a dry run for the portal spell! The sooner I get it up and running the better!”

“Okay. Be careful,” Buffy said.

Willow nodded, standing and picking up the hummus-stained bag. She carried it awkwardly, waddling down the aisle and out of the diner. Xander finished off his fries.

“She’s under a lot of pressure to get this right,” he told the Slayer. “If she can’t do it…”

Buffy shook her head. “If she can’t it doesn’t matter. I don’t want Willow to feel like she’s my only hope. Even if she is.”

Xander leaned forward on the counter. “She’s getting older, Buff. She wants to get this right; she doesn’t want to let you down. Don’t get me wrong, I want her to help you but…not at the expense of her health. I won’t let her hurt herself for this. Magick tends to take its toll on her these days.”

“I understand.” Buffy said. “If it gets too much then she stops. That’s all there is to it.”

“She won’t.”

“I know. But you’ll stop her.”

“I will.”

Buffy nodded. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

Xander smiled softly and Buffy returned it.

Spike looked between them. “So…what’s wrong with saying a woman has great legs?”

“Oh god!” Buffy stood and edged past him to get out. “I’ll see you later, Xander.”

Spike watched her go, confused, then turned back to the man. “I was just asking!”

Buffy punched Spike in the face. It felt good. He stumbled backwards, a slight smile on his face. Buffy smiled back. She had missed this. Not just fighting but fighting with him.

He danced backwards barefoot and beckoned her to come to him.

They were using the old gym that Cain had used when squaring Buffy up with the Slayers. Spike had decided that she needed to let off some steam before court the next day and Buffy had actually agreed with him for once.

She had tied her hair up out of her face and watched him wait for her. Her heart pounded from the exhilaration, her Slayer sense screaming at his presence and his intent.

“You scared, Slayer?”

She frowned playfully. “Of what, Spike?”

He pulled a face like that had hurt his feelings and she grinned. He motioned for her to come closer again. She took a slow couple of steps in his direction. He was good at anticipating her moves and so she approached cautiously, anxious not to give anything away.

Buffy had always had the edge on Spike when it came to a bare-knuckle fight but she could see his style had changed slightly. He was still all about the crude-but-effective street fighting but he had a calm now, a poise, that showed he wasn’t about to rush in and make a mistake. He held himself differently, loose but ready, mind alert.

Buffy came to stand within five feet of him. She didn’t bother with a defensive stance and neither did he. In fact, if anyone were watching it wouldn’t have looked like they were about to throw down. Both were just enjoying the moment.

Just enjoying being themselves.

It was Spike who moved first – lunged for her. She sidestepped easily, sure that was all that was required. Instead Spike circled around behind her insanely fast and wrapped his arms around hers, interlocking his hands in front of her. The movement crushed all the air out of her and pinned her arms to her sides. Buffy let out a grunt of surprise.

She couldn’t use her arms. But she still had legs.

Sweeping her foot up in a backward arc Buffy landed a solid kick right between Spike’s legs. He yelled in pain and she felt a little guilty. Until he shoved her hard in the back. She tumbled to the floor face first, hitting her elbows and knees painfully. Now she didn’t feel guilty at all.

Buffy rolled onto her back just in time to see a foot hurtling towards her face. She rolled again, quickly, missing the impact by mere seconds. Buffy flipped herself up onto her feet and parried a quick succession of hits from the vampire. She was good at blocking but he was fast and a couple found their mark.

During the barrage Spike left himself open to a swift kick in the gut, so naturally she took the opportunity. The force of the kick sent him careening through the air a good eight feet before he crash landed, skidded across the polished floor and slammed hard into the wall.

Buffy winced for him and followed it with a smirk. “Gotta hurt.”

Spike scowled up at her and pulled himself to his feet. He strode towards her, the movement a little stilted probably due to the residual effects of the earlier groin injury. Buffy met him in the middle.

She moved to punch him but he slapped her fist away and grabbed her wrist wrenching her arm outstretched as his other forearm landed across her neck. Spike pushed her in this position until her back hit cold brick, his arm exerting pressure on her throat.

From this close his eyes stared back at her and despite what they were doing there was no maliciousness in his gaze, no bloodlust that she could see.

With one hand pinned to the wall Buffy slung her free arm up to catch him across the face but Spike anticipated the move and simply released her, leaping backwards. Buffy’s fist hit empty air but she was free and that was important.

Spike didn’t relent for long though, coming at her with a kick to the ribs. She moved aside a little too slowly and the hit glanced off her side. It threw her off-balance and she tumbled to one knee. Even as she was rising Spike’s arm went around her neck and he wrenched her off her feet.

For one brief moment she was hanging and his arm was the noose. And then he released her. Or, threw her across the room, to be exact.

She landed on her side in a sprawl of limbs. Her head cracked loudly on the floor from the impact.

“Gotta hurt,” Spike said.

Buffy wasn’t an unreasonable woman. But he totally had it coming now. She slowly sat up, looked at his gleeful expression, and she rose calmly. Spike noticed her expression and his smile grew a little doubtful.

“Buffy –”

He didn’t get to say any more because she had leapt the distance between them and hit him bodily. They tumbled to the floor in a tangle and a string of curse words.

They scrabbled about trying to assert dominance less like a vampire and a Slayer and more like two kids in the schoolyard. Buffy elbowed Spike in the face and he growled in annoyance and pain, reaching up and grabbing her ponytail he yanked her hair hard. Buffy yelled and kneed him in the ribs.

He bucked up and threw her off of him, leaping on top of her and trying to pin her down with his knees. Buffy didn’t take well to being held down and so sat up and head butted him.

Spike fell off of her allowing her to reassert her rightful place on top. She was sure there was something Freudian in that but decided not to give it too much thought. No, she was more interested in something else. Something important.

“Show me, Spike.” She held him down by his shoulders.

Still slightly dazed he frowned at her in confusion. So she punched him in the face.

“Show me.”

Still he did nothing.

She hit him again. “Show me”

When again he disobeyed she made a move to strike him again. This time he stopped her fist before it connected, holding on to her wrist. Spike looked her in the eyes.

“You can show me,” Buffy said quietly.

He blinked. Regarded her for a long moment. Then he obliged.

His fangs slid out from beneath his lip, his forehead creasing and protruding, his eyes bleeding to yellow.

Buffy smiled.

As if something had been unleashed in him Spike went into vamp mode. He started by flinging her off him. Buffy landed on her ass and keeled over onto her back on the floor. She grinned at the ceiling. Things were about to get fun.

Spike appeared in her line of vision. He growled and she laughed. His brow creased further in confusion at her mirth and then he just reached down, grabbed the front of her T-shirt and dragged her to her feet.

Still holding onto her shirt he pulled her close, their faces inches away. Buffy’s breathing was the only sound in the empty gym. Spike shoved her backwards. She stumbled but didn’t go down. Spike rushed at her and she landed a snap kick to his chin.

The force drove him backwards and while he was still recovering she aimed a flying kick at his chest. Again he was pushed backwards, arms pin wheeling. Buffy didn’t relent. She kicked up at him again but this time he grabbed her foot and twisted. The Slayer flipped over in mid-air to go with the momentum and to avoid serious injury to her ankle.

Spike didn’t let go of her foot and as she dropped to the floor ungraciously he pulled her along, dragging her along the dusty floor and seriously messing up her hair. He spun around and let go of her ankle at the last moment so she slid along the floor with such force and speed that when she smashed into the swinging doors of the gym she actually crashed through them into the hallway beyond.

Buffy could hear Spike approaching and so she did the most logical thing. She kicked the door as hard as she could. It must have been well timed because it ricocheted off of Spike and back at her. She stood up, feeling a little woozy and pushed through the door back into the gym.

Spike had been floored. He was still lying on his back. His eyes were closed. Either he’d been knocked out or he was pretending to be. Buffy, knowing Spike, was betting on the latter.

“Don’t play games, Spike.” She breathed, stretching her limbs and keeping a distance.

Spike cracked one eye open. “Come play, Slayer.”

That comment was probably the closest Spike had come to flirting with her in a long time and she loathed to admit that it did affect her. She folded her arms and pulled a defiant face. He laughed and stood up, dusting himself off.

“Want to call it quits?” He asked.

Buffy let her arms drop to her sides. “Never.”

“Didn’t think so,” Spike smirked.

They circled each other for a short while before Buffy lost all patience and aimed a punch at his nose. Spike jumped backwards out of reach and kicked up at her, his heel striking her on the cheek. Buffy hit the wall, face burning with pain, and glared at the vampire. He grinned and bowed.

The Slayer called him to her with a quirk of her finger and Spike came running, as usual. He rushed at her, fangs bared, hands reaching for her throat. She grabbed one wrist, turned her back on him and elbowed him in the nose with as much force as she could muster. He called out in anger and she flipped him over her shoulder letting him tumble like a ton of bricks to the wooden flooring.

Before he had a chance to get up Buffy pinned him to the floor with her foot against his windpipe. Not that he had to breathe but it still had to hurt.

“Give up?” She asked.

Spike grinned up at her, yellow eyes flashing. “Not even remotely.”

He placed one hand on her leg and attempted to remove it. Buffy didn’t bunch an inch. Spike raised his eyebrows and then punched her in the back of her knee. Her leg predictably buckled and she fell, knee colliding with his chest. Buffy doubted Spike had foreseen that she would land on him. The way his rib broke and the corresponding yell of curses that erupted from his lips alluded to his surprise.

He punched her in the face to knock her to the side and then flipped himself up to a standing position. He held his ribs, wincing, and aimed a kick at her head. Buffy scooted backwards on the floor out of his range. Spike waited for her to stand and then they ran at each other simultaneously.

They collided viciously, Spike ramming her in the chest with his shoulder and careening them backwards. It was clear his intention was to slam her into the wall so at the last moment Buffy kicked her legs backwards, braced herself against the wall and pushed.

The result was that the couple fell to the floor but at least Buffy was on top where she liked to be. They had a brutal few minutes kicking, punching, and scratching the crap out of each other before Spike broke free and rolled himself up and away from her.

Buffy stood up too and was rewarded with a nice punch to her face. Spike’s nail caught her lip and tore it. Blood trickled down her chin.

First blood.

Spike’s nostrils flared but other than that he didn’t react to it. Or he had trained himself not to.

Buffy punched back at him and hit him in the nose. Blood for blood. Only fair.

He ran at her again and she tried to kick him away but he caught her leg, fingers digging into her thigh, and wrenched it up over his shoulder. Buffy was short and it hurt like hell. So she screamed.

Then she kicked her free leg up to his other shoulder, interlocked her feet behind his neck and twisted. The force might have ripped his head off or broken his neck had she not been holding back just a little.

Instead it simply spun him over in a cartwheel and they both dropped to the floor in various states of disarray.

Buffy got up first, legs screaming in pain.

Spike rubbed his neck and blinked up at her; then he laughed. “Bloody hell, that was amazing.”

“Slayer.” Buffy explained simply but felt a little pride build up inside her.

Spike stood slowly, moving his head from side to side to work the muscles in his neck. “Let’s finish this, pet.”

Buffy noticed the nickname but didn’t comment. “Stop talking and come get me then.”

“You’re the boss,” he said lowly, eyes roving over her.

The vampire aimed a kick at her torso which she slapped away easily and parried with a hit to the centre of his chest. The strike would have seriously winded a human but Spike was not human and had no need to breathe, so he simply grabbed her arm, wrenched it up behind her back and pushed her face first into the wall.

With Spike pressed up close behind her and cool brick against her cheek Buffy came to the conclusion that she hadn’t felt as good as this in months, maybe even years. She’d always loved fighting, being a Slayer that was expected, but even more than the fighting she loved seeing Spike as he was meant to be seen. Without the suit, the tie, the responsibilities and the heartaches. Just a man. Just a vampire.

His lips brushed across the soft skin behind her ear and it was then she realised she hadn’t been struggling against his hold at all. She fully intended to break away until the grip on her wrist softened and his forehead dropped down to rest on her shoulder.

They stood like that in silence.

Buffy didn’t know what he was thinking about but she knew they would probably be dark thoughts, tangled up in self-loathing and guilt. Maybe he was thinking about the night she had disappeared. Maybe he was thinking about their nights together and how they descended into violence and insults. Or maybe he was thinking about what was on TV tonight. She’d never know and he would never tell her.

He didn’t tell her anything anymore.

She thought about asking him if he was okay. Perhaps being this close to her and fighting with her had triggered the vampire instincts in him. Maybe he wanted to bite her. And even as this crossed her mind she disregarded it. She trusted Spike completely. He wouldn’t bite her. Not because he didn’t want to but because she didn’t want him to and that mattered. What she wanted had always mattered to him.

What he wanted had never mattered to her. Until now. So she asked.

“What do you want, Spike?” It was a simple question, spoken softly and without malice.

Buffy was aware the question could be taken a number of ways and from the way Spike went perfectly still behind her she guessed he was struggling to find an answer that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. But she was tired of running. She just wanted to know where she stood. Where they stood.

He lifted his head from her shoulder, voice close to her ear. “I don’t know.”

It was an honest answer, she could tell that from the slight waiver in his voice and the way his hand slipped from her wrist. Buffy turned slowly to face him. He was still in game face and the vulnerable look on his face contrasted sharply to the fangs and dark pinpricks in his eyes.

Buffy reached up and took his face in her hands.

“Okay,” she smiled for him. “When you do know, you know where I am.”

She stroked her thumb across the ridge of his brow and then released him. She walked quickly away, footfalls echoing in the silence.

In the interest of equal rights the trial took place after dark the next day. The room was packed with barely an empty seat in the place. A great deal of those seats were now occupied by vampires. Vampires from H.U. but still, vampires. Spike didn’t think this was a good thing. It was Buffy’s first day on the actual “stand” so to speak – hence the large turnout.

Everyone wanted a look at the accused.

She stood and walked slowly to the chair placed at the front of the room. Buffy’s movements were unhurried as she sat and turned to face Heaton. He spoke but Spike didn’t listen. His gaze was fixed on the Slayer. His body still ached from their battle the day before. She bore no bruising on her face and didn’t visibly appear damaged at all. If Spike were a lesser vampire he might feel a bit insulted. As it was, he was content to just look at her.

She sat in front of a room full of judging faces and she didn’t falter. Since she had decided to take this thing seriously, to invest in winning this trial, Buffy had shown grace and poise under great odds. It just remained to be seen whether she’d be able convince them she wasn’t a cold blooded killer.

She looked anything but that tonight. Spike guessed that was the point. Put a beautiful blonde girl in front of a court and, had there been an actual jury, she may have gotten through it on wholesome looks alone.

Buffy sat with her hands resting on the arms of the chair, eyes gliding over Norman and Lucy, over her friends, alighting briefly on him before she returned her attention to Heaton.

Spike was incredibly confused about her. That was nothing new, of course, but it grated on him a little. That so much time could pass, that he could grow as a man in so many ways and yet when it came back to Buffy Summers he was still an indecisive fool.

He wanted her but he didn’t want to be hurt by her again. And he didn’t want to hurt her, either, which he knew he was fully capable of. He had the niggling doubt that the only reason she was interested in him was because he was a tie to her past. It made sense that she’d want to latch onto the person who had – in appearance at least – changed the least in thirty years. It was better for him to just be cautious, not to rush.

Spike didn’t want to take advantage or be taken advantage of.

And yet. And yet there was a little part of him that whispered so what.

Faith cleared her throat in a very unsubtle way to let him know he was staring. He blinked and looked at the vampire beside him. Why she had shown up was a mystery to him. As far as he knew the woman tolerated Buffy and vice versa, nothing more and nothing less. Faith turning up at the courthouse could be down to one of two things – either she was here to support Buffy or she was just bored. He didn’t like to judge but he figured it to be the latter.

Having said that, he’d noticed the two women had been getting on better of late. They’d both deny it but he sensed some sincere affection for each other ran beneath the surface of all their snipes and scowls. They had, after all, been close in the beginning. Or so he had heard.

Spike had always gotten the feeling that Faith admired Buffy; put her on a pedestal of everything she could have been and wanted to be. Over the years they hadn’t spoken much about the blonde Slayer, mostly to spare his feelings he was sure, but what had been said had never contained any real malice. Faith had always spoken of Buffy with slight nostalgia, fondness even.

In a way, Buffy’s connection with Faith was the most complex and profound relationship she had ever had. Spike smiled as he imagined her face were he to speak this thought aloud.

“Buffy, the last recorded sighting of you was over thirty years ago. Can you tell us where you’ve been during that time?” Norman asked as he rose from his seat.

Spike’s attention snapped back to the matter at hand instantly.

Buffy shifted in her seat. “I don’t know exactly. I went through a portal, landed in a desert…kind of pre-anything, if you know what I mean.”

“Not really,” he frowned. “Can you describe it?”

“Lotta sand, couple of trees, some big rocks. Whole lotta sand,” she shrugged and then took a moment. “And there were men there.”

“Men? What did they say?”

Buffy smiled slightly. “They spoke a different language but I understood. They told me they had watched over the First Slayer.”

Norman tilted his head, rubbed his chin. “So it’s possible you went back through time?”

A few people in the room laughed lightly and Spike felt his fist clench.

“I guess so,” Buffy said, ignoring them. “To me it seemed like only an hour had passed but here it was…a lot longer.”

“Time moved slower there?”

“I guess so.”

Norman nodded. “Comparing recent samples of your DNA with samples taken by the Council thirty seven years ago, you are undoubtedly the same Buffy Summers and yet you most certainly do not resemble a fifty two year old woman. This, alone, proves that something…out of the ordinary happened to you.”

Buffy almost smiled. “It often does.”

“Coming back after so much time had passed must have been disconcerting.”

“I didn’t realise at first. I didn’t think I’d been gone long. It was only after I was told thirty years had passed that I realised I really wasn’t in the same Sunnydale I’d left,” the Slayer looked down at her hands. “I always was kind of slow on the uptake.”

Norman sat on his desk, arms folded. “That must have been a shock. More than that, a frightening situation to be in.”

“It…it was.”

“And in regards to the killing of Joseph Dawson – you don’t dispute that it happened?”

Buffy shook her head, eyes level with his. “I admit it. I slayed him.”

“Why?”

“I thought he was going to hurt a little girl.”

He paused. “What gave you that impression?”

“He had changed into game face.”

“You mean his canines were elongated and his pupils altered?”

Buffy inclined her head. “Yeah, if you wanna get technical. Plus, he was a vampire and in my experience they feed and they kill, nothing in between.”

Spike winced at that comment as the vampires in the crowd scowled and hissed. Faith arched an eyebrow at him and he turned back to the proceedings.

“And what is your experience with Humanoids?” Norman recovered quickly.

“I’ve been a Slayer for seven years. I’ve seen hundreds of people killed, injured and drained dry for food. I’ve been attacked, I’ve been hunted and I’ve had people I loved murdered,” Buffy looked out over the crowd. “I’ve seen too much death at the hands of vampires to apologise for trying to prevent another.”

Spike looked around the courtroom at the other vampires. To his surprise, there were varying degrees of emotions – anger, resentment, confusion and even perhaps some understanding. Older vampires, vampires who were around before the Big Change, were probably partially accepting of her stance. They remembered times past, how things were, how things easily could be again, and how the Slayer was just doing her job. Even if she did always ruin their fun.

Norman was starting to look a little nervous. “You’re obviously referring to a time before the blood substitute was developed and Humanoids became productive members of society.”

“That is true,” Buffy folded her legs and looked contemplative as she scanned the vampires in the crowd. “And I’m curious to see how things have changed. If it’s all true, if I never see a rogue vampire again then that’s great. Big vacation for me. I’ll hang up my stake.”

Norman took a breath and let it out. “Right. Obviously you had no idea the rules had changed. Had you known that Joseph Dawson had never harmed anyone, would you have taken the same action?”

“Maybe not,” she acquiesced. “But maybe I would have. If I thought for one split second he was going to hurt that little girl I would have done what was necessary to stop him.”

The lawyer took a step closer. “You feel inclined to protect people.”

“It’s kind of my thing,” Buffy agreed.

Norman smiled at the glib remark. “You feel, though, that given the opportunity you could live by the rules and laws that govern society today?”

“I think I could.”

“You could live alongside Humanoids without resentment?”

Buffy pulled a face. “Well, I’m living with one at the moment and we haven’t fought once.”

He glanced over his shoulder and then gestured towards Faith who, as many eyes turned to her, seemed almost to blush. The brunette sank down into her seat and seemed very interested in the toes of her boots which were perched up against the poor sod in front’s seat.

“That would be Faith Lehane, Council Operative and fellow Slayer?” Norman asked, turning back to Buffy.

She nodded. “That would be her.”

“And we’ve heard that you’ve had relations with Humanoids previously.”

Buffy paused and carefully controlled the look that passed over her face. Spike knew that she had been leery of discussing her relationships with a group of judgemental strangers but he also knew that if it came to that or prison, she’d just have to lose the inhibitions.

“Yes.”

“Were these relationships serious?”

She bit her lip. “Yes.”

“Did you love these men?”

Spike gave a reassuring look as her eyes flicked to his. He hoped she understood that he would pass no criticism on what her reply would be. Buffy looked back at Norman as she spoke.

“I did,” she said softly. “I still do.”

Spike was very aware of Faith turning to gage his reaction but he did not care. He sat rigidly still, eyes fixed on the woman and the lawyer at the centre of the room. He tried, really tried, not to think too much about it. He didn’t need to overanalyse things and there was no point in blowing such a simple remark out of proportion.
But, Christ, it was anything but simple.

“You’re still in contact with both of your previous partners?”

“I am, yes,” she said not looking at him.

Norman nodded to himself. “And also to Riley Finn, it would appear…?”

“No, not really. I’ve spoken to him once.”

“Were you aware he was a member of an Anti-Humanoid terrorist group?”

Buffy shook her head. “No, not until he told me.”

“What did you discuss at the meeting in which Miss. Porter so graciously caught on camera?”

“He wanted me to join his cause,” she said matter-of-fact.

“Your answer?”

“I said no,” Buffy gestured to her friends. “I have more important things in my life than being a vigilante.”

Norman seemed to like this answer. Spike’s gaze turned to Heaton and how he was receiving this. The man kept his face expressionless, his eyes trained on the Slayer with interest but still the picture of neutral. He was clearly very good at his job and while neutral wasn’t the best outcome they could hope for, at least he wasn’t placing the noose around Buffy’s neck quite yet. Spike shuddered at the picture his own mind had conjured up.

The lawyer picked a book up from his desk, it was old and worn. Spike recognised it as the Watcher’s Diary Lucy had used earlier to evil effect. He sat forward in his chair, eager to hear how Norman might turn it around.

“As we all know by now, Buffy’s Watcher was Rupert Giles. His crimes against the Humanoid populace is well known and not remotely disputed by myself, however I think it only right to note that many of the passages read by Miss. Porter were taken entirely out of context,” Norman turned to Heaton. “And therefore ultimately useless in ascertaining a true picture of my client.”

Heaton arched an eyebrow. “Please, do enlighten us.”

Norman adjusted his tie nervously. “Yes. Previously, Miss. Porter read aloud this passage; ‘The end of days approaches. Buffy doesn’t trust her friends, her family, even me. She accused us today of not watching her back. Instead she chooses to align herself with a vampire! A dangerous and unpredictable one at that. I don’t know how it has come to this.’ Now, to me…insinuating that my client trusts and relies upon a Humanoid does not reflect negatively on her character.”

The man turned to the court. “What Miss Porter failed to mention, also, is that the Humanoid mentioned in this passage is none other than William Pratt – A very respectable and upstanding member of the community. To imply that this is a damaging relationship reflects badly upon Mr. Giles, not Buffy Summers.”

“I should also like to read aloud an earlier paragraph from Mr. Giles’ diaries, one that Miss Porter neglected. ‘It is early in my relationship with Buffy and we are both still adjusting to our roles but I have never met a Slayer like her. She is so unfocused. Being the Chosen One seems to be a heavy burden upon her shoulders. She would prefer to date and to dance and even to study than patrol and slay vampires! Repeatedly she has stated to me her desire to be ‘a normal girl’, whatever that may be. This is a young woman who believes she belongs in the shopping mall or at the prom, not in a graveyard slaying demons.’”

Spike watched Buffy’s face throughout all this. He knew she had never wanted to be the Slayer, had resented it upon many occasions in fact, but he had never really understood why. After all, having strength and agility above most creatures had always appealed to him greatly, and he loved the Slayer part of her unconditionally. Normality, to him, had always seemed so boring, so mundane…but to Buffy it was what she had always wanted.

Norman paused for effect. “Buffy, this seems to indicate that you never wanted to be the Slayer.”

“I had no choice,” she concurred. “Back when I was first called all I wanted was to be the girl I was before. Popular, cute, a little ditzy…but it was what I wanted.”

He placed the book back down. “And now?”

“Now…I’m kind of…at peace with it,” Buffy said honestly. “There’s no ‘cure’ for being a Slayer, so I’ll be one till I die. I can’t help that and I’m okay with it now. I resented the hell out of it at the beginning. Now I choose to accept that that’s who I am and who I’ll always be.”

Norman turned to the court. “And, as we all know, Slayers are still very valuable to us. They are superior law enforcers, peacekeepers – important members of our society. It’s likely Miss. Summers, now fully informed of the current laws, would continue to be an asset to us all.”

Spike knew that to be true but he also knew that right about now Buffy was questioning the validity in the statement. Even after all the lives saved and the apocalypses averted, she didn’t have a lot of self worth. Not in these matters, anyway.

“That is all,” Norman inclined his head towards Heaton and crossed the room back to his seat.

Heaton waited a moment before he spoke. “This session is adjourned until this time tomorrow night. Then the prosecution will cross examine the defendant.”

Heaton left swiftly as the crowd stood and before the door had even closed behind him the onlookers began whispering and murmuring. Spike remained the only person not on his feet. Except for Buffy.

They locked eyes and he offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She held his gaze for a moment before she visibly wilted, all the fight gone out of her. She’d been putting on quite the show.

Spike stood and went to her.

Buffy was being watched carefully, watched by kind brown eyes that had always watched her with just the tiniest bit of caution. Those eyes were wearier now but no less cautious. Angel knew it was best to keep quiet when Buffy was in “one of her moods”, which was not a term he would ever tell Buffy he used. The Slayer in question was pacing the room intently. Not that there was much room to pace. The cell was small and she couldn’t help but think that she could have an identical one soon enough. The thought did nothing to sooth her nerves.

She didn’t know exactly why she was here; just that she felt the need to spend some time with her old love. When she had explained it to Spike – and why she felt the need to explain it to him she still did not know – he hadn’t griped about it and gotten insecure as he might once have. He seemed to understand better than she did why she would choose to spend possibly one of her last free nights on Earth with Angel.

Being on the stand at her trial was a whole different ballgame than just listening to others talk about her. Answering Norman’s questions hadn’t been especially difficult but she knew that Lucy Porter would pull no punches and Buffy couldn’t even retaliate with a few of her own. The real kind.

The Slayer had never been good at expressing herself without the help of violence and general ass kicking, and she had no real ease with words in general. This lack of social graces could turn out to be her undoing. Suddenly she felt like Leo on the Titanic, sinking because Kate Winslet wouldn’t share the damn door.

“Buffy, you’re going to your special place again,” Angel said with slight worry in his voice. “Come back to us, stay away from the light.”

She stopped pacing and turned to him. “Considering I’ve actually been to heaven that joke is in totally poor taste.”

He shrugged an apology. “What’re you thinking?”

“That Kate Winslet needs some manners,” Buffy replied glibly.

“Who?”

Buffy shook her head. “I’m just thinking about the trial.”

“Is that all?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Is a murder trial not enough?”

Angel shrugged again and stood up from his bed, folding his arms. “For most people, yes. For Buffy Summers? Not nearly. Tell me. I might be able to help.”

He was right, of course. He was Angel and he was always right. If there was one emotion he could always recognise on her it was angst. Mostly due to the fact that he had been the cause of it for such a long time. Buffy wandered over to the barred up window and glanced outside. It was raining.

The other ‘issue’ she was thinking about was Spike. How could you discuss your current love interest with your previous? Buffy thought it was better not to. She had no one to talk to about how she felt but then that was nothing new. She could go to Willow or, egad, even Xander but they had grown past all that. They were married, they were stable, they didn’t need to hear about her melodramatic relationship dramas.

“He loved Claire,” Angel said as he came to stand beside her.

Buffy turned to him sharply.

The man beside her stared straight ahead out of the small window. “Spike falls hard. I always thought that was a weakness in him. I see it’s a strength now. He loved Claire and a part of him always will. Just like a part of him will always love Drusilla. And you.”

She looked away. “Angel –”

“He still loves you, Buffy. If anyone can see that it’s me,” he continued. “And you may see Spike as this new man – a confident and assured man. He makes a big effort to appear to be. He’s not.”

Buffy placed a hand on his arm. “Angel…we don’t have to talk about Spike. That’s not why I came here.”

“You need someone to talk to these things about.”

“Maybe, but it’s not right for me to come to you with this.”

Angel smiled softly. “I think we’re past that now, Buffy.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. A mixture of emotions swirled around in her stomach, although that might have been the spaghetti from earlier, and settled on being okay with it. She was older. Angel was a lot older. Things had moved, the Earth had shifted, and they no longer felt the same. It was strange that it would all settle itself this easily.

Only Buffy could consider skipping through thirty years in another dimension whilst Angel turned human and was thrown in jail as things settling themselves ‘easily’.

“But Spike’s feelings have never been the issue, have they?” Angel turned to face her fully. “It’s what you feel that’s the enigma.”

She sighed, resigned to having this conversation. “Yeah, to me as much as everyone else.”

“That’s not true.”

“Actually, it is,” Buffy replied slightly miffed.

He chuckled lightly. “Buffy, can you honestly say that you don’t know how you feel about Spike?”

“Yes!”

Angel’s forehead creased in disbelief. “You love him.”

“I love a lot of things. Puppies! Ice cream! Bette Midler!”

The creases deepened. “You’re comparing Spike to Bette Midler?”

Buffy turned away from the window and her shoulders dropped. “No. I do…I feel for him in that way but I can’t say it, Angel. I don’t know why I can’t say it to him but I just…can’t.”

“You used to say it to me all the time.”

She scowled at him. “Did you really just boast about that?”

Angel grinned. “I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard to be the sensitive and understanding ex. Look, the answer to this is simple. Tell him. Maybe not with words but tell him somehow, Buffy. He’s pretty conflicted at the moment.”

The Slayer looked at him. “Spike’s spoken to you?”

“It seems I’m the go-to-guy.”

“What did he say?”

Angel sighed and walked to the other side of the cell. “Let’s not go schoolyard. You two need to talk to each other, not me.”

Buffy sighed and turned back to the window.

+++

Spike sighed and wondered when exactly it was his daughter became the adult and he the child in their home. Mya absently lifted up his legs and placed them on the coffee table as she finished off vacuuming the living room. They had a vacuum that did the work on autopilot but ever since it had gone berserk one time and chased Mya around the room she hadn’t trusted it.

His daughter had already done the dishes and taken the rubbish out and Spike had felt guilty about it; but not guilty enough to actually help. He was a terrible role model, he knew, but at present couldn’t muster enough energy to worry about it.

As she switched the vacuum off and stored it away Spike watched with disbelief as she got out polish and a duster and set to work on the coffee table, brushing his legs back off it.

“Okay, what’s the motivation behind this?” He asked.

Mya glanced up. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you want to go to some party or something? Because I’m going to say no.”

She laughed. “I’m already going out tomorrow night, dad.”

“You are not.”

“It’s cool you think you have a say,” she grinned, polishing with vigour.

Spike sat up straight and tried to look authoritarian. “I forbid it.”

“Oh, relax. I’m just going to stay around Melissa’s house. And it’s for you anyway.” His daughter finished off the table and moved to the TV.

He folded his arms tightly. “How’d you work that out then?”

“With me out of the house you can invite Buffy over.”

Spike sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “Mya!”

“Don’t ‘Mya’ me!” She said with her back to him as she cleaned. “Having your wonderfully mature but nevertheless youthful daughter around can mess up your mojo to no end. And god knows you need all the help you can get.”

Spike snorted. “Firstly, I resent that. I have the stuff. Ask the legions of women I was entangled with before your mum. Secondly, ‘mojo’? Did you really go there?”

Mya turned to him, long hair flying over her shoulder. “In response; you think telling your daughter that you were some British lothario is a good idea? What kind of example does that set? And, yes, I went there. I thought mojo would be a term someone retro like you would understand.”

The vampire quirked an eyebrow. “Retro is just a fancy word for old.”

“Exactly.” She replied with an identical eyebrow manoeuvre.

Spike gasped in mock outrage before standing up and making his way to the kitchen. He needed caffeine. No, he needed alcohol but caffeine would have to do. Mya continued to drone on – mostly about how she was much more knowledgeable about women than he was but Spike tuned it out.

The vampire was trying not to think about Buffy, simply because there was so much riding on how well she defended herself against Lucy Porter tomorrow night. Spike knew, despite all his past barbs about the lawyer’s job skills, she was good. Very good. And that was very bad for them.

Things would have been so much easier for him in the past. He would have just bumped off Porter and taken to the road with the Slayer. Now, though, he had responsibilities and a conscience. Pesky things, those. So they were left with winning it the hard way.

He’d spoken briefly to Willow earlier in the day and it seemed like her progress with the portal wasn’t progressing much at all. It was sods law that of all the years for the witch’s power to go on the frits it had to go now.

It seemed like the outcome rested solely on Buffy’s shoulders once again. He just hoped it wouldn’t break her.

“You keep frowning like that and you’ll wrinkle,” Mya noted as she appeared beside him.

Spike turned away and poured the hot water from the kettle into his mug. He didn’t want her to see him this way. “Don’t think so. I’m immortal. I’m going to look this good forever.”

She was silent for a moment. “You can pretend like this doesn’t bother you but I’m not stupid, dad. And Buffy isn’t my mom and she never will be but you love her and she loves you. I see that and you should too.”

He said nothing, all expression draining from his face as he stared at the wall. His daughter lingered a moment longer behind him.

“Anyway, I’m done being the interfering Parent Trap daughter,” Mya spoke with false playfulness as she walked away. “The rest is totally up to you.”

And that was the problem.

Buffy was running late for what could be the most important day of her life and it was all Faith’s fault. The vampire had pressed snooze on the alarm clock and Buffy had snoozed. Being a Slayer her sleeping patterns could be as bizarre and anti-social as the vampires she had been assigned to stake. She’d slept through most of the day, determined to look half decent and well rested for the trial that evening. Now she was too well rested and thoroughly bedraggled. Faith, of course, was far from apologetic.

She watched in a bemused state as Buffy hopped around the one-room apartment getting dressed. She didn’t seem to understand that a murder trial was kind of a big deal, even though she’d had her own.

As Buffy cursed the other woman’s name, whilst simultaneously combing her hair, there was a knock at the door. The Slayer ignored it and started to screech about the fact there was no mirror. Faith replied with some half witty retort about being a vampire as she sauntered over to the door. She was dressed in nothing much at all but that had never bothered the girl when she was alive, so it stood to reason she wouldn’t care now she was undead either.

Buffy was rooting around under the mattress looking for her earring when Spike entered the apartment. She came up empty-handed and settled her rising anger by punching the wall. A puff of plaster dust plumed up and over her black shirt. Buffy looked down at herself. The shirt was ruined. She stood up slowly and calmly, picked up one stiletto shoe and turned to face Spike and Faith. Her eyes were all for Faith.

“I am going to kill you now,” she said as though talking about the weather.

The Slayer leapt at the brunette, shoe heel poised for her heart, and would have hit her mark had Spike not bravely intervened. He caught Buffy around the waist and swung her away from the smirking woman. Setting her back down on the floor he blocked her view of the other vampire.

“I came to offer you a lift,” he said, arm still around her waist. “But I can see you’re not ready.”

Buffy gave him a look to end all looks and dropped the shoe on the floor. “It’s her fault.”

“It always is,” Faith shrugged and slumped back down on the mattress, lighting a cigarette.

Buffy stepped out of Spike’s reach. “I look like crap. I can’t go.”

“It’s your trial, Buffy. You sort of have to.”

She sighed and turned her back on him. She walked over to her bag of clothes and started sorting through them. Nothing was right for a court case. She had picked out the shirt specially. She’d even ironed it.

“Uh, I don’t mean to rush you –” Spike started.

“Fine!” Buffy stood up and unbuttoned the shirt as she strolled over to the window.

She had to push on the glass twice to get it open as she viciously shrugged the shirt from her shoulders. Both Spike and Faith watched wide-eyed and in another situation Buffy may have found it funny. Instead she held her shirt out of the window and began to wave it angrily back and forth, shaking the plaster dust from it.

“This is an omen, by the way.” Buffy informed them.

Faith arched an eyebrow. “A blonde in a bra waving her clothes around? Yeah, I’ve seen that one a few times.”

The Slayer pulled the shirt back in and slipped it around her shoulders. “Shut up, Faith.”

“It’s not an omen,” Spike came up to her as she buttoned her shirt. “You’ll do fine. And if not then the cleavage may distract Porter.”

Buffy looked down at herself and saw she had left one too many buttons undone. She promptly adjusted that and smoothed her shirt and skirt down with her hands, then combed her hair through with her fingers. “How do I look?”

“Like Buffy Summers.” Spike smiled.

Buffy picked up her bag and jacket. “Isn’t she that girl that kills Humanoids?”

“Let’s go.” He advised as he opened the door for her.

They walked swiftly in silence down the hallway and stairs and out into the open air. The sky was just turning dark and Spike could move around without his magical sunscreen. Buffy headed towards his car in the lot but Spike was dragging his heels.

“Hello, I’m late girl here,” she turned to him and grabbed his arm pulling him along. “Dillydallying is not permitted.”

Spike smiled a little. “Dillydallying.”

“Less of the mocking, more of the driving,” she reached the passenger door and let go of the vampire.

Buffy waited for him to move around to his side of the car and get with the driving. Spike just stood rooted in place; looking at her. She looked back. Vampires just didn’t seem to get the whole ‘time is of the essence’ thing. She started to tell him just this but something in his eyes made her stop.

His fingers played nervously with the car keys in his hand. “I know we’re in a rush…”

Buffy nodded but didn’t say anything.

“…and this is really the wrong time to say this.” He sighed and came to stand beside her, leaning against the car. “But I’ve got to. Never could keep my mouth shut.”

The Slayer nudged him in the ribs playfully. “You want to say something? Just say it. It’s only me.”

“Only you.” He laughed but not like it was funny. “Only you and me. Right. I’m too old for all this…dillydallying.” He looked at her and smiled wryly.

Buffy’s eyebrows rose. “And again with the mocking. You know, I don’t have to stand for this. I have feelings too!”

“You do?”

“Hey!” Buffy slapped him on the arm and shook her head. “If you’re just gonna pick on me I think we should go.”

“I love you.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Right, let’s go.” Spike made a hasty journey around to the driver’s door.

Buffy turned and looked at him over the car roof. “Hang on a second, you can’t just –”

“We’re going to be late.” He opened the car and slid in.

Buffy paused, mouth agape. Vampires! They were so sly! That was all she had time to think because Spike did something totally tacky next. He beeped the horn. At her!

“Anytime tonight, Slayer.” He called from within the car.

She scowled and got in, closing the door. “After my murder trial we are so talking about this!”

“And there’s a sentence not many get to utter,” Spike said with mirth before he peeled out of the lot at the speed of light.


+ + +


Buffy was finding it hard to concentrate. This was nothing unusual but considering she was on trial for murder she should have been making a bit more effort. It was all Spike’s fault. As usual. Telling her he loved her right before she had to go in and be interrogated by the bitch of a prosecutor was not his best move. The fact that she had been late hadn’t reflected well on her either. The smirk Lucy Porter had given her as she’d skidded into the room after sprinting down the courthouse’s corridor really sealed the deal on Buffy’s heinous mood.

She did her best not to look embarrassed and surly. She had woken up less than an hour ago and felt grimy and unkempt and totally and completely unprepared.

Lucy Porter looked like she’d just stepped off the catwalk, hair slick and clothes stylish and flattering yet still professional. Buffy wondered if it was a prerequisite that all H.U staff had to look and dress like supermodels.

Buffy had just settled herself down in the seat – the stand – when the lawyer rose from her desk and took two steps towards her and halted.

“Are you ready to proceed yet, Buffy, or do you need a few minutes?” The undercurrent of amusement and scorn was not lost on anyone in the courtroom.

Buffy sat up straight and locked eyes with her. “I’m ready. And it’s Miss. Summers.”

“Of course,” Lucy smiled easily. “I’d like to begin by asking you why you murdered Mr. Joseph Dawson in cold blood, Miss. Summers?”

Buffy felt like she’d been slapped in the face. She guessed that was the point. She showed no outward shock at the directness of the question asked; she simply blinked and took a moment. She vaguely heard Norman objecting to the question but Heaton waved his protestations away.

Buffy focused on Lucy Porter. “I killed him because I thought he was going to hurt a little girl.”

“That would be Mr. Dawson’s daughter, seven year old Jane Dawson. What gave you the impression that her father would harm her?” She asked.

Buffy knew what the lawyer was doing. Purposely using the move evocative selection of words to ask the question. She had known today was going to be tough but they had barely started and Buffy figured she was in trouble and it was going to only get worse.

“I saw him –”

“Mr. Dawson?” Lucy interrupted.

Buffy almost scowled. “Yes. I saw him lean toward her –”

“Jane Dawson, his daughter?”

“Yes,” Buffy ground her teeth. “And his features had shifted. I thought he was going to bite her.”

Lucy frowned delicately wrinkling her brow. “What gave you that impression?”

Buffy hesitated. “Well…it looked…that’s how it looked.”

“That’s how it looked to you?”

“Yes.”

“And yet Mr. Dawson and his daughter were attending a carnival that night. A carnival with many people in attendance and none of these people thought it looked like Mr. Dawson was going to bite his daughter. So why did it look that way to you, Miss. Summers?”

The Slayer paused. “It just did.”

“It. Just. Did.” Lucy turned to the courtroom, back to Buffy. “Well, if that’s not a good enough reason to tear a man’s head from his neck in front of his seven year old daughter then I don’t know what is!”

Norman stood up abruptly, chair scraping across the floor. “The defence object!”

“Tone it down, Miss. Porter,” Heaton said calmly from the end of his table.

Lucy inclined her head. “Certainly.” She turned back to Buffy. “But that was how you killed Mr. Dawson, correct? You decapitated him?”

“Yes,” was all Buffy could say.

People in the courtroom reacted to this and Buffy tried not to hear, no to look, to focus only on the woman in front. She did not look at her friends, did not look at Spike or Norman, just kept her eyes on Lucy Porter. The lawyer looked right back, she didn’t look afraid or intimated and Buffy had to give her points for that.

Lucy held out her hands. “Would you please describe how you did that?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell us step by step the manoeuvres undertaken to decapitate a man.”

Buffy did glance at Heaton then, who just nodded. “I…I placed both hands on the sides of his head and…twisted.”

Again the court reacted and Buffy saw the satisfaction in Lucy’s eyes.

“It must take an extreme amount of strength to rip a man’s head from his body with only your bare hands,” she said.

It wasn’t phrased as a question so Buffy didn’t make the mistake of trying to answer it. She knew that Lucy wanted her to trip up, to say something that would incriminate her further. So Buffy kept her mouth shut.

Lucy arched an eyebrow at her silence, perhaps a mark of respect at having underestimated her. Or maybe not. “Miss. Summers, how many Humanoids would you say you have…slayed?”

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.

“You didn’t keep count.”

Again Buffy said nothing.

Lucy walked over to her desk and glanced down at a piece of paper, looked up. “Well, The Council did. Somewhat. There is a total of two hundred and seventeen ‘slays’ noted by your Watcher Rupert Giles in reports to Quentin Travers – the head of The Watcher’s Council at that time. That, of course, does not count any slays undertaken after you turned your back on The Council and went mercenary for four years –”

Norman stood again. “Again, we must object at the phrasing. Buffy Summers was never a mercenary, as that implies she was paid by the highest bidder – she never received any monetary gain in her role as a Slayer.”

Heaton nodded. “Do be careful, Miss. Porter. Use your words wisely and accurately.”

She apologised and turned back to Buffy. “Two hundred and seventeen known casualties at your hand, Miss. Summers.”

Buffy looked back at her.

“How do you answer for them?”

Norman must have been getting whiplash at the speed he stood up but he was determined. “Mr. Heaton! Miss. Summers is not on trial for any of those incidents. They took place before the new laws came into effect and she cannot be held liable for any one of them, if indeed those figures are accurate at all in the first place.”

Heaton nodded his head. “Alright, Mr. Wagner. Take a seat. Miss. Porter…” he sighed as if disappointed. “We are here today to question Miss. Buffy Summers on the murder of one Mr. Joseph Dawson. Her work as a Council Operative prior to that is not up for discussion.”

“I was just trying to ascertain the scale of the defendant’s crimes –”

He held up a hand to stop her. “They were not crimes, Miss. Porter. That is the point. Focus on the matter at hand, I will not warn you again.”

The lawyer looked appropriately cowed but Buffy did not think of it as a victory. She had still managed to plant the seed in the courtroom’s mind. The figure was ridiculously lower than the actual truth, Buffy was sure, but to the suits in the room it was hideously high. She was a mass murderer and now they had a figure on which to think on. Two hundred and seventeen innocents killed. Never mind that not one of those had been innocent. Buffy was the guilty one now.

“Your main argument is that you did not know the laws on the killing of Humanoids. I do not hold with this…excuse. Ignorance is not a valid argument for murder,” Lucy said, her eyes hard and Buffy could see that behind all the bitchery she really did believe that she was doing the right thing. “You say you were in…another dimension? We have absolutely no proof of this. You disappeared from records for thirty years, this much is true. But many people go missing. Go underground. I hardly believe they’ve all been travelling dimensions.”

A few of the spectators tittered under their breath.

Lucy looked her over. “Your lack of ageing seems to partially lend credence to your admission. That is until your remember that one of your closest friends is an incredibly powerful witch. Glamour spells, anti-ageing spells, can be undertaken by a mere Level Five Witch. Willow Rosenberg’s proficiency is well above this, is this not true?”

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never tested her. She always did well on Pop Quizzes, though.”

Lucy scowled at her as low laughter circled the room again. “You deny Willow Rosenberg has performed any such spells on you?”

“I do.”

“Then it is very telling, that that same powerful witch was unable to open the so-called portal to your alternate dimension, do you not think?”

Buffy gestured to the witch in the audience. “She’s still working on it. It’s a spell steeped in Slayer lore and one I can’t begin to comprehend. I’m no expert on Magick.”

“I think Miss. Rosenberg cannot open the portal because it simply does not exist”

Buffy nodded. “Okay. You’re entitled to think that.”

Lucy’s mouth gaped just a little. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Willow will open the portal, she just needs more time.” Buffy said much more confidently than she felt.

The lawyer regained her composure. “And yet your time is running out, Miss. Summers.”

Norman started to object but Heaton raised a hand and then stood. “And so has our time. I presume you have not finished with the defendant Miss. Porter?”

Lucy shook her head. “Not nearly.”

“Then we will reconvene tomorrow morning,” Heaton buttoned up his suit jacket and turned to the lawyers. “I would like to see Mr. Wagner and Miss. Porter in my office immediately. The rest of you are free to go.”

Buffy wondered if that statement would be true for her for much longer