Even her return to retail wasn't proving as traumatic as she might have thought. Buffy hadn't wanted to admit just how desperate she had been when Spike had offered her the job; desperate enough to grit her teeth and bear with it. He'd kept her primarily out of the public eye, though, letting her work at re-stocking and filling mail orders, only bringing her onto the floor when there was rush or he was tempted to kill Xander during the reconstruction work, chip or no chip. As a result, she was starting to feel somewhat comfortable -- and a lack of interaction with mummy hands certainly hadn't hurt.

The rebuilding was almost done and Xander onto a different job, finishing the last bits evenings and weekends. No blood had been shed between store owner and contractor, though Buffy had been forced to put herself physically between the two men on more than one occasion and threaten with bodily harm if they didn't behave.

With money coming in, Dawn cooperating with school, and Tara on the mend, life was looking good. Now if she could just get the political campaign out of the dining room.

As she and Spike came up the walk following patrol, the cars parked out front told the story. "Y'know, there is a possibility Demon-girl might win this thing," Spike said. "A lot of folks are talking about her."

"That's great, but it's only June; the election's in November," Buffy complained. "They're going to be here almost every night for almost five months."

"So tell Anya you need a break and she can find someplace else to hatch her plans for global domination."

Wishing it was that easy, Buffy mumbled her reply. "I didn't quite catch that, pet."

"I said, Anya’s paying for the use of the space, so it's a little difficult to throw her out."

Embarrassed, Buffy strode up the front steps, almost reaching the door before Spike caught her by the arm. "If you needed help, all you had to do was ask," he said.

You've already given me the job; I'm supposed to turn around and ask you for more money?"

"If you need it, yes! Buffy, you know what I've got is yours."

Spike was looking at her with an intensity that always made her want to turn away, the one that let her know she could take his words literally. It'd be so easy to simply take advantage of it, knowing that he'd do literally anything for her. He'd proved it often enough during the winter and spring, letting her take...

"No." It was probably one of the hardest words she'd said, but she didn't think there was really any other way. "I can't do that."

The look of hurt that covered his features was all too familiar, as was the hard mask that quickly followed. "I thought we were past that. Guess I was wrong."

"Spike, that's not what I meant. I can't take your money because..."

"Can't or won't?" He sounded genuinely angry. "Holding hands while walking through the cemetery doesn't do us a damn bit of good if you won't trust me. I thought..."

He turned away and started down the steps. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She hesitated, letting him get almost to the sidewalk before she started after him. "Spike!"

He stopped but didn't turn back, shoulders stiff beneath the black leather of his coat. She reached out, but pulled back before she actually touched him. "I just meant that I can't accept it because of me. I need to learn to stand on my own, not look to everyone else to solve my problems."

"In the mean time, you're going to keep on solving everyone else's problem, is that it?" He turned back, still hurt, still angry. "You don't need to take the weight of the world on your shoulders, Buffy. Let someone share from time to time, carry some of the burden."

"Just let myself go? That's precisely what I'm trying to avoid doing, especially with you. If we're going to try to make this...whatever it is that we have...work, I need to not take advantage of what you're willing to give."

Spike let loose with an exasperated sigh. "I don't feel like you're taking advantage."

"But I do. This is something I need to do for myself, Spike, something I need to come to terms with." This time, she didn't pull back, but reached out to gently lay her hand on his chest. "Please try to understand."

He didn't look happy at all, but he managed a bit of a smile. "I'll try." Leaning down, he gave her a brief kiss. "I'll see you at the shop tomorrow."

It was the first time since they'd officially begun seeing one another that he hadn't hung around after walking her home. Buffy couldn't help feeling annoyed at him being annoyed at her and began a fine stomp back up the walk. By the time she reached the front door, though, she was tired and leaned her head against the wood, one hand resting loosely on the door handle. She didn't want to go inside and put a smile on her face to greet Anya and her volunteers; she'd rather sit outside on the porch with Spike, talking and kissing until it was time to say good night.

And why the hell did coming back from the dead make her feel like she had PMS all the time?

Realizing she wasn't about to get the answer to any of these questions by standing outside, Buffy fixed a grin to her face and opened the door.

***

Spike slammed his fists into the bag that hung from the ceiling of the training room. The place was still a mess, the last piece of work scheduled to be done, but he desperately needed to work out the tension he felt.

I can't.

He'd tried not to show much her words had hurt him, but Spike knew he'd given the game away. Walking away was hardly the most subtle of maneuvers, but he hadn't wanted to start yelling, not with Anya and lord knew who else inside the house. They might openly be a couple, but Spike was definitely in favor of keeping certain things private.

It was good that she was trying to stand on her own two feet, but he wished Buffy would get over some of her pride. Why wouldn't she let him help? Okay, it'd been one thing when his source of income had been less than legitimate; hero types probably shouldn’t support themselves with black market funds, but what he had now was far removed from that. If she'd needed more money than what he'd offered her for the job, she should have told him.

Even as he slammed away, a sound niggled on the edge of his consciousness and he froze. Someone was in the front of the shop, moving around. Wondering if the intruder was natural or supernatural, Spike carefully made his way to the door, automatically dropping into hunt mode.

The noises continued, the sound of a chair being shifted. Spike slipped into the short corridor that led from the training room to the shop itself. There was nothing that sounded as if the intruder was going for the cash register, but he knew there were things in the shop many in Sunnydale would find far more valuable than cash.

He was about to step into the shop proper in an attempt to surprise whoever it was when he suddenly came face to face with Buffy. Both yelped and jumped back. "Give a fella a heart attack, will you? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Dawn's teachers had one of the in-school thingies, so she's got the day off." Her voice sounded a bit pinched and annoyed, her face wearing the tired expression he'd seen far too often throughout the spring. "I thought I'd come in and maybe we could talk."

This was a new development. Spike couldn't remember Buffy ever instigating a discussion about their relationship. "Of course we can talk, pet. Just wasn't expecting you."

He herded her to the research table, trying to gauge her mood. There were danger signs she was heading for one of those abrupt shifts that had plagued her since her return; the tone of voice she was using never boded good. Before joining her, he grabbed one of the bottled waters she kept in the store refrigerator. At the very least it'd give her something to do with her hands and wouldn't hurt too badly if she decided to pitch it at him.

As he'd anticipated, she played with the bottle for a minute before speaking. "I wish you hadn't left last night."

"We were heading for an argument and I didn't feel like providing entertainment for the lot inside."

"So you sulked away."

"I did not sulk," he snapped. Realizing he was more annoyed with the situation than he'd thought, Spike took a deep breath to calm himself. "I was hurt. I thought we'd gotten past all that."

"Past what? That I didn't want a hand out? If this year has taught me anything, it's that I need to take responsibility for my life."

"So you could consider it a loan, pay me back when you're able. Don't want you worrying about the bills, not with everything else."

She was frowning at him. "Where did you get the idea I was worrying about the bills?"

"Isn't that what you've been worrying about for weeks, if not months? Isn't that why you agreed to rent your dining room out to Anya?"

To his surprise, Buffy laughed. "Is that what you thought? I agreed to rent the space to Anya because Dawn pressured me into it. Problem is, Anya handed me the money up front, so it makes it a little difficult to tell her I need a break from the campaigning, especially since I used the money to pay off the rest of what Dawn owed various merchants due to her shoplifting habit."

He was at once relieved and feeling the urge to kick himself. Sheepish was probably the best course to take at the moment. "Didn't realize that."

She was smiling, which meant they might actually be moving for clear water. That was the way of it with the mood swings; she'd be fine until he said something that triggered the switch. "I think I figured that out."

Buffy leaned forward to kiss him and anything that needed to done in the store before opening was instantly forgotten. Soft and warm within his arms, she got his motor revving, his mind heading south despite his assurances to her that they could take it slow. Didn't hurt that her kisses were hungry, too, as if she'd grown tired of waiting. Hands roamed wildly, sliding under shirts and into waistbands and the only coherent thought that ran through his mind was whether or not she'd locked the door behind her on her way in.

That thought vanished as a particularly energetic move sent them tumbling to the floor, the crash of overturned benches unnoticed as they began to fumble with clothing, desperate for the feel of skin against skin. "So long..." he whispered, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in her neck.

"Too long," came the reply between pants. "Wish you hadn't gone last night."

"Wish I hadn't either." He was vaguely aware of clothing falling away, of the research table screeching along the floor as one of them kicked it. He couldn't believe her skin tasted even finer than he remembered. "Would have taken you upstairs, laid you down on your bed and loved you good and proper."

The moment he felt her tense beneath him, he knew he'd said something he shouldn't. His mind wasn't really functioning fully, though, so he kept kissing and touching, hoping this was just a momentary bump, that he could coax her back into the mood.

But she didn't return his caresses and then she was pushing on his chest. Caught off balance, he rolled to the side, which gave her the opportunity to scramble away, pulling her pants back up before grabbing for her bra. "We shouldn't be doing this. I thought we were going to take it slow."

Spike had managed to sit up, still trying to figure out exactly what had happened. "You were the one who kissed me."

"Which I shouldn't have done." Bra on, she was grabbing her shirt. "It wasn't supposed to turn into a grope fest."

"A grope...oh, bloody hell!" Spike was on his feet, fastening his own pants because clearly they weren’t going to go there at this point. "Please tell me we are not back to 'kiss me, then run away', because I've had more than enough of that, thank you very much."

"Maybe if you could keep your mind out of the gutter for more than two seconds..."

"I'm not the only one whose mind is running there. You were making your intentions pretty clear a moment ago." He grabbed his t-shirt from where Buffy had tossed it, pulling it over his head with enough force that he could hear the seams protest.

She was shaking her head. "I should have known this wouldn't work."

"That's it? You got frightened so you're going to run back to your little hidey-hole? I've gotten tired of the virtue fluttering routine. I love you, but a fellow can only put up with so much. For once in your life, will you make up your damn mind?"

"Excuse me, are we interrupting something?"

Both Buffy and Spike whipped around, startled by the sound of Giles' voice. He was standing in the doorway to the shop, keys in one hand, looking more than a little puzzled. Behind him was a woman of medium height, graying hair frizzing madly out from her head. She was staring at them intently, as if examining something.

Giles. The medium, aura-seeker, whatever the hell he said she was. This morning, before we let Buffy know what's up.

Spike knew he was so screwed. "Did I mention Rupert was coming back to town?"

Buffy gave him a death-glare. Yup. Screwed. "Giles, what are you doing here?"

Her voice was deceptively light, but Giles didn't look fooled. "Just a short trip back, primarily to see how the rebuilding is going." He moved to give Buffy a hug. "Doing some early morning training?"

When Buffy started looking at the linoleum, Spike stepped in. "Buffy's working here now. Dawn's off today, so she came in early."

Now the death-glare was coming from Giles. Just couldn't win. "How...interesting. We'll discuss this later, Spike. Since you're here, Buffy, I'd like you to meet Antonia Lefranc. She and I have worked together on several occasions."

Buffy greeted the woman politely, but with some caution. Clearly all her alarms were going off, which meant there was no telling how she'd react to Giles' plan. At best, she suspected there was some new disaster in the offing that Giles had come to let her know about; at worst...Spike didn't want to go there.

"Antonia, ah, reads auras and other energies. I brought her to Sunnydale so she could meet you." He took his glasses off and cleaned them. "She's also done a considerable amount of work on the Protocols of Osiris and I think she might be able to help you."

Buffy's face grew hard. "You mean you brought a Council shrink to poke at me?"

"Please," Antonia sniffed. "I have better taste than to work for them. Misogynistic, patriarchal, mummified old twats. Wouldn't know a mystical event if they tripped over it. Why don't they have a permanent team located here to study phenomena which one can find nowhere else in the world? No, wait; that would make sense."

Buffy's eyes had grown progressively wider during this tirade while Spike did his best not to laugh. Maybe Giles knew exactly what he was up to. As the woman turned grey eyes on him, though, he quickly sobered. "This is your partner, I take it?"

"This is Spike," Giles said, "although we're telling most everyone his name is William."

"Which do your prefer...no, 'young man' wouldn't be appropriate, would it? Rupert tells me you're a vampire, so I would imagine you're a bit older than he is."

"Um, Spike works fine." He had a sudden urge to wipe his hand clean on his jeans before shaking her outstretched hand.

"Hmm. Warmer than I imagined. I'd definitely appreciate the opportunity to do a reading on you before I go; I don't think such an opportunity will come along twice in a lifetime."

"Reading?" The tightness was creeping into Buffy's voice again. "What type of reading?"

"Why, of your energy patterns, of course. That's why I came; Rupert told me you'd experienced some difficulties following your resurrection and he wants to make certain everything is as it should be."

There was no possible way the woman could know what a minefield she'd just stepped into. Even if Giles had warned her, nothing could have prepared her for the sudden mood shifts as they happened. "Tara looked into the spell. She said everything's fine."

Buffy was wound so tight, she was nearly quivering, prompting a look of concern from Antonia. "I'm certain it is, but..."

"No 'buts'; it's fine."

With that, Buffy slammed out of the shop, the door rattling in its frame as from the force of her effort. "Well, Watcher, that was just lovely,” Spike said, reaching for his button-down shirt. “Couldn't have planned it better if you tried."

"She wasn't supposed to be here," Giles snapped. "What were you thinking?"

"It's not my fault! We had a bit of a fight last night and for the first time since I've known her, Buffy decided to show up so we could talk it out. I just...forgot you were supposed to be here."

"Gentlemen," Antonia inserted. "Might I suggest we let Miss Summers calm down before I attempt to talk to her again? I'd also like a chance to digest what I just saw...and do you think I could possible have some tea?"

"I didn't think you had time do to a reading," Giles said.

"Not a proper one. But given the amount of energy Spike and Miss Summers were putting out, it was hard not to get some preliminary data."

She reached down to right one of the benches and sat. Fixing Spike with a steady gaze, she asked, "Do you have any idea how long she's had two conflicting auras?"

***

Buffy slammed into the house, her anger still at about the same level as when she'd stormed out of the Magic Box. Did they think she was completely incapable of taking care of herself? Did they think she was so far gone they had to sneak around behind her back?

That was what hurt the worst: the betrayal. She did her best to be the Buffy everyone wanted, saving the world, dispatching vampires and other evil with quips and a smile, taking care of Dawn and being a good, solid support for her friends. She did her best and Giles and Spike went behind her back because they thought there was something "wrong."

If there was something wrong, why the hell hadn't Spike said something to her? He was the one who went for talking in this relationship, not her.

"Buffy? That you?" Dawn looked worried as she emerged from the kitchen. "What are you doing back so early? It's only ten after nine."

She wouldn't yell at Dawn. Dawn probably wasn't part of this...unless Spike had taken her into his confidence. "If Spike calls," she said through gritted teeth, "I'm not here."

Dawn lifted her eyebrows in surprise. "Maybe some breakfast would do you some good. Tara's down and I was making pancakes for her."

Tara. Tara would be good and calming and would tell her how this aura reading person wouldn't find anything Tara hadn't seen already. "Pancakes sound wonderful."

It was good to see Tara sitting at the counter, sipping at her orange juice. "I thought you were going to work," she said after greeting Buffy.

Buffy hesitated before answering. The store might belong to Spike and Giles, but Tara was very protective of it -- and had become somewhat protective of Spike, she noticed. "A change of plans," she managed. "I'm going in at the usual time." Assuming Spike hasn't decided to fire me. Score another one for the Buffster.

"Then you're going to be around all morning?" Dawn asked. "Great! You can help Tara and I fold mailers for Anya."

She couldn't win, that was all there was to it. "I thought those weren't coming until next week."

Dawn flipped the two pancakes currently baking on the griddle. "She managed to convince the printers that he should bump her ahead of a few other jobs. They arrived last night. I was going to tell you about them, but since you headed upstairs as soon as you got in..."

There wasn't actually a rebuke in Dawn's voice, but Buffy felt it anyway. She'd done the minimum required, smiling at everyone and making sure there wasn't anything desperately requiring her attention before she fled to the sanctuary of her room. "I had a headache," she mumbled.

Dawn made a disbelieving noise that had Tara catching on to the fact something was wrong...if she hadn't caught on prior to this. "Is it still bothering you?"

If she said yes, Tara would probably suggest aspirin or an herbal remedy, a soothing cup of tea and a nap to help chase the pain away. It was a tempting idea, tempting enough to convince Buffy to say her head was still hurting just as the phone rang.

Dawn slid the pancakes onto a plate and grabbed the receiver. "Summers' residence...Hi, Spike."

Instantly, the headache wasn't a fib; Buffy could feel the pounding at the back of her head. "Buffy?" Dawn continued, leaning against the counter so her older sister was in her sights. "She told me to tell you she's not here. Want to talk to her?"

"Dawn!" Buffy's protests were too late, though, as Dawn was already holding out the phone. Irritated, she grabbed the receiver. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Not calling about that," came Spike's voice. "It's about the other. I think you should come back."

She started to say she didn't want to discuss anything that had happened that morning, but then she could hear Giles' voice in the background. "I told you not to call her yet."

"And when the hell were you planning on telling her? This explains a lot," he answered back.

There was some further grumbling, but then Spike was speaking directly to her once more. "I know you're upset and we probably shouldn't have gone behind your back, but I think you should come back to the shop. There's something you need to hear."

It wasn't his words that convinced her something serious was happening; it was the fact that Spike and Giles were arguing about whether or not to tell her. If it wasn't serious, Giles wouldn't care.

She really did want to drink a cup of tea, crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head. A few hours of peace and quiet sounded like the sweetest thing in the world. "I'll come."

***

"I still say you shouldn't have called her," Giles complained. He was staring at the dregs of his tea from the Espresso Pump. Spike wished the line had been a little longer, that Giles hadn't walked back into the shop while he was on the phone to Buffy.

"Well, I did. Thought she should know." He was pacing behind the counter, unable to sit still. "I mean, Red botched things good and proper."

Antonia smiled at Spike. "Actually, Miss Rosenberg did quite an amazing job. If she hadn't been interrupted, I believe there is a very good chance she would have been able to complete the spell successfully. But you can hardly suggest she arranged for Hellions to smash the Urn of Osiris."

There was part of him that wanted to say "yes" because there was still a place inside that harbored anger over the decision to jerk Buffy out of heaven, that wanted to lay the blame for everything on someone. But the rational part of his mind also knew that having embarked on the course, Willow would have quite possibly endangered those who'd gathered to help with the raising, but not Buffy herself.

He hated when the rational part of his mind made sense. "Alright, so she didn't plan that. But afterwards, she kept expecting Buffy to be grateful and back to her old self."

"And you didn't?" Giles' voice was almost snide. The tension was getting thicker, which wasn't the happiest of developments.

Spike stopped pacing. "I knew where she'd been, remember? Why do you think I made sure we patrolled together as often as we did?"

"At the time, I thought you were attempting to continue your pursuit of her."

Spike leaned forward, hands resting on the glass. "Then why didn't you try to interfere?"

For a moment, he thought Giles might go Ripper on him, show that dangerous side he kept oh-so-carefully leased, pulling off his glasses as if in preparation for a pummeling. There was a flash, but then the watcher caught himself, deliberately reaching into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief and clean the lenses. "Because you were the only one she was willing to have around and someone needed to watch her."

There were any number of snarky responses Spike could have come back with, but he didn't utter a single one. It must have cost Giles to stand to one side and watch Buffy prefer to spend time with him.

The bell over the door rung, announcing Buffy's arrival. "We're not opening until noon?" she asked, referring to the sign Giles had placed on the door a few minutes before.

"I thought it best," Giles said. "I wanted to make certain we weren't disturbed."

Buffy already looked disturbed enough for all of them. "You said it was important."

Spike moved from behind the counter, reaching out to slide a hand into the small of her back as he drew near. To his relief, she didn't pull away. "Why don't you come sit, pet? You'll be more comfortable while we talk."

There was a moment of hesitation, but then she was letting him walk her to the table and settle her in a chair. She still had a skittish air about her, as if she might bolt at any second and he did his best to force his own nervousness down. Maybe if he appeared calm, it might help her.

Once she was settled, both men looked toward Antonia. "I'm afraid we got off to a bad start," she said. "I am not here to poke at you or 'fix' you. Rupert asked me to come because I have a talent for reading auras and energy patterns and I've done a fair amount of work with people who've had near-death experiences. He thought that might be useful in your case."

Her voice was calm and restful with a cadence that rose and fell in an almost amusing fashion. "I've known Rupert for many years; we were at university together, in fact. I have done several readings on him during our acquaintance and I could easily tell you some stories which would embarrass him."

"Antonia!"

"I'm certain Miss Summers has known you long enough that she realizes you're not a helpless old fuddy-duddy. I'm simply presenting my bona fides."

Buffy still looked as if she were poised to run, but a hint of a smile crept across her lips. Spike was certain that for all Giles' squawking, he wouldn't mind a little embarrassment if it would help the cause.

"As I was saying, I read auras and patterns. I'm not a healer; I just have a talent for seeing where things are...off. Most people who've had near-death experiences or clinically dead and revived suffer some lingering after effect. It's not always bad, either; I've met several people who were positively empowered by it."

"But they think that's not what happened with me." Buffy's hands were clenching and unclenching in her lap. Spike felt an urge to lay a hand atop them, try to offer comfort that way, but he was fairly certain she'd probably physically reject such a gesture. He'd take her out on patrol tonight if she let him, find some nasties that could help work off the tension that was winding her even tighter.

"Given what Rupert has told me and what I saw this morning when I walked in, no." Antonia offered an understanding smile. "Of course, lover's spats never present someone at their best."

And the woman had stepped in another pothole. "What did you see?" Buffy asked through gritted teeth.

"Now, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not terribly familiar with slayers, so I don't know if this is typical or expected, but I saw what I believe is your aura, which is full of bright, cheerful colors...and I saw a second web of energy almost directly on top of the first which is far darker. The two fields are struggling for dominance."

Given the way Buffy's face had gone pale, she understood exactly what that second web was. "Which one is winning?" she asked in a small voice.

"This morning? The darker one; but then you were very angry, which would make it easier to take control. If I were to do a reading now, I'm not sure which it would be."

"A reading? You mean, you can't just..."

Antonia shook her head. "It usually requires some concentration and I don't believe it's ethical for me to attempt without asking a person's permission. If someone's very angry, however, they can project a great deal of energy which means I See things without trying. This is why I don't care to be around angry people as a rule."

"And you saw that I have two auras."

"Yes, almost as if there were two separate beings in your body. I can't be certain unless I make a proper reading, of course."

"But you won't do that without my permission."

Buffy sat silently for a long minute before looking toward Spike. "Do I still work here?"

"Of course you do, luv." The question startled him a little.

"Good. I was worried that after..." She stood up abruptly. "I'm going to go finish up those mail orders. It's either that or go home and fold mailers for Anya."

She departed for the basement without another word. "This is why I suggested we not tell her immediately," Giles said once she'd departed.

"Oh, you think the news would have been better received in a day or so?"

"I think we might have found a way to present it to her that would have a more positive reaction that what we just saw."

"Given what I've seen in the last few months, that was positive." Spike pushed away from the table and rose. "At least she didn't storm out."

"She didn't agree to the reading!"

"She didn't say no, either!"

"Might I suggest that if the two of you get any louder, she'll probably be able to hear you quite distinctly and that won't help your cause."

Spike and Giles stopped abruptly at Antonia's words. "It's clear there is a problem," she continued, "probably mystical in nature."

"Are you sure?"

She signed. "That's the best I can do without a full reading, Rupert...and you that means preparation, meditation and the subject in a receptive mood. It also wouldn't hurt if I knew a little more about the circumstances surrounding her return. I'm afraid the Protocols of Osiris are not my usual bedtime reading."

Antonia turned an inquisitive gaze on Spike. "I know Rupert wasn't here. Were you involved?"

The question brought back the same twisting of the stomach he'd experienced that night when he'd realized the enormity of what the Scoobies had so blithely done. "No. They kept me in the dark."

He wasn't sure he liked the way she was considering him, as if she could read something into his lack of participation. "Do you want to discover what's wrong with her?"

"If it will help us figure out how to get her out of this pain, then more than anything."

She nodded. "If you can, try to convince her to let me do a reading. I make no promises, but it might help you to stop groping in the dark."

"I'll speak with her as well," Giles said. Antonia didn't say anything, but the way she cocked her eyebrow at him hinted that she didn't think this was a particularly good idea.

Whatever message she'd intended to communicate, it appeared that Giles received it. "It's probably best if I speak with the others this evening, get some more details on the spell. Tara, of course, though Anya might be helpful with her experience."

"They'll both be over at Buffy's this evening," Spike told him. "Anya's using it as her campaign headquarters."

"Campaign...?"

With a grin, Spike realized he'd happened to omit that piece of information in their phone calls. "Anya's running for City Council. Took offense at the idea the local political machine was registering illegal voters -- namely, demons and other such folk."

The look of horror on Giles' face was almost worth the drama of the morning. Almost. "She must be mad."

Spike shrugged. "Well, it is Anya."

"I don't think you understand the potential seriousness of the situation."

"I think I do. Been getting an earful from Buffy ever since Dawn brought it up. Dawn's currently acting campaign manager. Special project for school."

Giles reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I go away for a while and it all goes to hell. Very well. If you can keep Buffy away from the house this evening, I'll speak to Tara and Anya, see what I can learn. If you can think of anything else that might be helpful, I'd appreciate letting Antonia know."

That his chip no longer worked on the resurrected Slayer might fall into that category; Spike decided, however, that piece of information could wait...at least until Giles wasn't present.

***

There was a strange sense of déjà vu to patrol that evening, just as there had been throughout the day. That Spike had let Buffy spend most of the day in the basement, working on mail orders and staying well out of people's way was gratefully appreciated. She'd hesitated when he'd suggest patrol, not sure how good of an idea that might be after the events of that morning, but when Spike had mentioned there'd been reports of a new nest down by the docks, the opportunity to pummel something took precedent.

It wasn't until they were moving through the darkened streets of Sunnydale that Buffy realized where the familiarity was coming from. This was how it'd been in the days after she'd first come back, the two of them patrolling and Spike being, well, quiet. Spike was never quiet; it was one of the things about him that irritated her the most. Yet, he'd also been the only one who'd seemed to understand her need to simply "be" in those days and while there'd be jokes to make her smile, there'd also been many comfortable silences on her back porch or while walking through the cemeteries of Sunnydale.

The cynical part of her had put it down to his efforts to bring them closer together; she'd certainly gotten into the habit of coming to him when the noise and relentlessly cheery smiles of her friends had grown too much. But another part of her was grateful for his understanding, something she was only now starting to be able to admit.

"I'm not made of glass," she told him, the first words either had spoken in ten minutes.

The smile on his face was familiar as well. "Never said you were."

"So why are you treating me like I am?"

That brought him to a halt. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You. The way you're acting. All day, you've been quiet and understanding. All the way here, you've hardly said a word, which is so not like you."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster. "Thought you had some things to think over and I didn't want to interfere."

"You mean, about what that woman had to say? I don't need my aura checked, tuned up, or whatever the hell it is."

"Buffy, this is serious stuff. The idea that you might have two whatever they are does not sound good -- and no, I don't understand it myself. Doesn't make it any less serious."

She started walking again. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine. I didn't think you did, which is why I was being quiet in the first place."

She stopped abruptly and turned to find he was in her personal space. "So it's serious, but you're not going to talk about it? Then why did you call me this morning?"

"Because I wanted you to hear what she had to say. Look, we both know Red's spell didn't go as planned."

"So I came back 'wrong,' is that it?" She practically spat the words at him. "You seemed glad enough of that at the time, since it got you what you wanted."

She could feel the anger rising, fueling something dark that lurked inside. All her senses were tingling as she waited for him to speak, a little voice inside hoping he'd say the right words, the ones that would prompt righteously indignant anger and allow her to let herself go.

"This isn't about that," he replied, his voice infuriatingly calm. "But the fact that you're not registering human on my chip should be a clue that something's not lining up correctly."

She could still bring him to where she wanted him. "I'm not a demon," she challenged.

He met her words with a steady gaze. "Is that a fact?"

Suddenly, a memory was triggered, one that shouldn't have anything to do with him, but dealt with a dream, a white room and a man transformed. "What do you mean by that?"

Her throat was suddenly tight, threatening to cut off air. Spike seemed to sense the rising panic, his voice taking on a soothing tone. "I didn't mean you were a demon, luv, but some of your powers...there are legends about where those come from and I have to wonder if that's why..."

A scream cut off his words, coming from the direction they'd been heading. They were off in an instant, slayer and vampire speed making short work of the distance. Spike had promised her a nest and here it was. The victims were two women and the man who'd been with them. He was sprawled on the ground, clearly drunk and currently ignored by the five vampires, who seemed more interested in feasting on the women first. Not bothering with her penchant for bad puns, Buffy dived into the fray, stake in hand. She could hear Spike calling her name, but she didn't let that stop her. With everything that was topsy-turvy in her world, here was something she could understand. Vampires bad. Kill vampires.

Surprise let her take the first one, pulling him away from one of the women and driving a stake through his heart before he could even react. That only alerted the others to her presence and that of Spike as he caught up to her. After that, it was reduced to fists and kicks, plunging stakes and far too many near misses. Through it all, Buffy found her heart pounding wildly and the blood singing through her veins. Here she didn't have to worry about bills or taking care of others or how she was going to get the roof fixed or the property taxes that were coming up. All those fell away as she moved almost without thinking, caught in the moment, doing what she was meant to do.

Another cloud of dust and she felt it as if a charge had run through her, senses tingling, flashes in her muscles, straining for something that was just out of reach. Oh, yeah. This was good.

Spike had dispatched one of the others and was working on a second as the other remaining vampire dove for the drunken man who was starting to look around blearily. "Whass' happening?"

"Just a little clean up," Buffy said, launching herself at the vampire, stake held high. The vampire struck out at the last second, batting her away, but she tucked and rolled, twisting to she brought herself back in position. This time, the stake found its way home, coupled with a howl. Was it him or her? It didn't matter. "Run!" she shouted to the women. "Take him with you!"

For an instant, it looked like they'd ignore the second part and just look after themselves, but she saw the fear in their eyes and they grabbed the man, hauling him to his feet and moving as fast as their stiletto heels could carry them. Buffy watched them for only a second, then they were out of her thoughts and she was back to the fight.

There wasn't much of a fight left, just Spike and one vampire slugging it out. He'd lost his stake somewhere and was going at it with bare fists. "Toss me the stake!" he shouted, trying to maneuver himself into a position where she had a clear shot.

She could toss it to him, but where would the fun in that be? Her skin was itching now, buzzing and she wanted more. Ignoring his shouts, she lunged into Spike's opponent. Change partners and dance.

It was a short one, the stake easily striking its mark, silence suddenly filling the alley. Silence except for the sound of Spike's rage. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"You weren't having much success."

"If you'd tossed me the stake, I would have. The way you tackled him, I saw at least five ways he could have gotten hold of your neck!"

"Then you would have rescued me. Besides, he didn't."

"That's not the point! You shouldn't have..."

Tired of the talk, she shoved him against a wall and cut the words off with her mouth. The buzzing grew louder, her senses screaming vampire and sex. Right now, she knew exactly what she wanted and nothing was going to get in her way.

He was the one who broke the kiss, struggling back with deep gasps. "Buffy, what the hell is up with you?"

"You haven't figured out by now?" She grabbed his head and kissed him again, more demanding this time. Her hips were pushing against his, her free hand trailing down his chest toward his belt buckle.

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away, using the movement to cause them to trade places, her back now the one against the wall. "I figured out that the fight got you hot some time ago. But this, the blowing hot and cold..."

Her hands were wending their way south again. "I don't find this very cold."

"Buffy, stop it!" His hands grabbed her wrists, struggling to keep them away from belt. "This morning you were ready to go, then you froze up, practically told me it was over. Now, you can't keep your hands off me."

"And you're objecting?"

"Oh, believe me, there's nothing I'd enjoy more than to take you right here, right now. But I want to know if it's because you want me or am I falling into the 'convenient' category again?"

The sneer in his voice cracked something inside and she managed to jerk one of her hands free, letting it fly up to connect hard with his cheek. In flash he'd managed to capture it again, pressing her harder against the wall. There was little space between them, the only sound ragged breaths, both needed and unneeded.

When he kissed her, she arched into it, letting everything else fall away. Want. Take. Have. Spike was going be a good boy and give her what she needed.

He pulled his head away just far enough so he could look her in the eye. "I love you and I want you more than I've wanted anything...but if this is just your way of scratching an itch or indulging in a -- 'freak show' was the term you used -- let me know now because I'd really prefer to walk away from that little corner of hell."

The words hurt, slicing into old wounds. "You always came back," she taunted.

"Not true. I stayed; you're the one who kept coming back for more. I thought it was because deep down inside you had feelings, cared for me. Now I'm wondering if it's something else."

Spike released her, stepping backward. "I spent a century being someone's dolly; don't think I want to play that game again."

He was lucky she'd dropped her stake when she'd first shoved him against the wall; if she hadn't, she knew she would have driven it through his heart as she lunged for him. "That's it?" she demanded as she struck. "It's not the way you like so you're just going to walk away?"

"Doesn't seem to be the way you like it either, luv." He ducked her blow, their bodies falling into the old familiar patterns. "Used to call the idea of me touching you, much less getting it off in an alley, perverse and disgusting. Decided you needed to punish yourself some more? Find someone else to do it."

With that he broke off, moving quickly out of immediate range, though still near enough that she could hear that annoying voice. Then what he'd said began to register. "You're leaving me?"

"Thinking of cutting my losses, yeah."

It was as if all the energy, everything that had been fueling her, passed away with a rush. Buffy Summers screws up again and another man walks away.

He caught her before she hit the ground, cradling her in his arms. She grabbed hold of his coat, twisting her fingers in the leather. "Don't go," she whispered.

He didn't answer immediately and she felt the panic starting, the one that usually sent her flying away from him. This time, it caused her to hold on tighter, looking up for reassurance. "Don't go," she said again, her voice more frantic this time.

"I won't," he promised and she buried her head his chest. He was a constant. People came and went but Spike, no matter how irritating he could be, was always there. He was the one who stayed.

He was treating her like glass again, holding her gently and making little shushing noises to calm her, but this time it didn't bother her. Right now, all she wanted to do was hide and she knew Spike would happily stand between her and the world. "Buffy, luv..."

She looked up and found his face serious. This wasn't good. Maybe he was going to leave her anyway, tell her it was what was "best" for her. Her fingers curled tighter in the leather, catching skin and he winced. "I'd like you to think of doing something."

"Anything."

A corner of his mouth quirked up. "Oh, your timing sucks, pet. There's so much I could do with that offer. Now, though, I just want you to consider getting that reading done. Don't think even you can keep saying this is the way it's supposed to be."

She didn't want to; she didn't want to find out something was wrong with her besides Tara's molecular suntan. But she didn't want to feel this way anymore. "Yes."

***

Giles decided that of all the demons in his life, Anya was the most infuriating. "I don't understand your objections," she said for the fifth time. "The business community of Sunnydale asked me to run for City Council. What is wrong with that? And can I get back to my volunteers? I'm certain Dawn is doing a great job, but you know the troops do better when they can actually see the candidate."

"Mayor Wilkins built this town as a haven for demons," Giles said, his patience rapidly running out.

"I understand that -- Hellmouth, mystical convergence, all that. What I don't understand is why you keep bringing up Mayor Wilkins' attempt at ascension as if it's a reason I shouldn't run. Someone has to fill the vacuum of power. Why not me?"

"She has a point," Tara said.

Giles supposed he should be glad he was providing someone with entertainment; Tara had been doing her best not to laugh during the entire conversation but couldn't keep the smile from her face as she watched the exchange from the armchair she'd been settled in. That she looked greatly improved from the last time he'd seen her in the hospital, however, did not diminish his annoyance. "The fact that there is a power vacuum means there will be a power struggle. Given that the major players in this struggle happen to have been in league with Wilkins at the time he was attempting ascension should be a warning that they may well attempt otherworldly means of getting their way."

"It takes years to generate the type of support Wilkins had to have and the deals would have been with him, not his associates. I doubt any of them could do much against a vengeance demon at this point."

"There's another point."

"What? You're afraid my opponents are going to run an expose on the front page of the Sunnydale Press? 'Council Candidate Revealed as Demon'?" She snorted. "Please. This is Sunnydale. If I could bottle denial, I'd be rich...er."

Tara couldn't restrain herself any longer and began to laugh. Giles realized the discussion was going nowhere and the more he pushed, the more likely it was that Anya would dig her heels in further. He couldn't shake the feeling, though, that this was an idea that would cause trouble for them all, but most specifically her. Perhaps some research into the events of past elections might be in order.

Anya was looking at him, arms crossed in front of her chest, her expression clearly asking if this conversation was done. He wished it was. "Believe it or not, I did not ask the two of you in here to discuss Anya's budding political career. I was hoping we could discuss the details of Buffy's resurrection."

Tara's laughter stopped abruptly and the two women looked at each other warily. He wasn't surprised it was an area they didn't want to discuss; the only one of the group who'd shown any willingness at all had been Willow and that had been only to burble enthusiastically on about how great it was. That conversation had ended badly. "There's something wrong with her," he continued. "I know you looked into the spell, Tara, but I fear you have been mistaken with your conclusions."

"I thought it was a simple change, something that was just slightly off...and how did you know I looked into it?"

"Buffy," he said simply. "I brought someone with me from London who's read the aura of those who've had near death experiences. Buffy refused to be read, citing that you'd told her it was nothing more than a...'molecular sunburn' is the term she used."

"Did she...did the person read her?"

"Not formally, no. However, Buffy was sending out a great deal of energy, enough that Antonia is concerned there may very well be something seriously wrong."

For a moment, Giles thought Tara wasn't going to answer, given the way she was chewing her lip. "She doesn't register as human on Spike's chip. He can hit her."

The words were spoken softly, but they could have been screamed for the impact Giles felt. As he tried to digest this piece of news, Anya commented, "Well, that explains a lot."

Just as Giles began to ask what she meant, he heard the door the back door open. Hoping it might be Buffy returning from patrol, he started for the kitchen, only to be met by Spike, his arm wrapped around Buffy's shoulder. She looked worse for wear, eyes red and swollen, but there seemed to be no physical damage. "Anya, if you could get Dawn," Spike said, his voice quiet but intense. "I think she needs to put her sister to bed."

Without asking a question, Anya moved as Buffy muttered something unintelligible into the leather of Spike's duster. "Niblet will take care of you, luv. Giles and I need to chat, make arrangements." He looked back toward Giles. "We had a bit of a dam break as it were, but she's agreed to have the reading done."

Giles hated to think what methods of persuasion Spike might have used. "Buffy, are you sure?"

She nodded miserably. "I don't want to feel like this anymore. Can't connect to anyone, can't feel anything unless..."

That started up a fresh batch of tears and Spike pulled her closer, letting her cry into his chest. He was being terribly gentle with her, holding her carefully as he tried to calm her. Giles couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy; there was a time when he would have been the one to offer comfort.

Dawn appeared, followed by Anya. "Buffy! Are you okay?"

"Had some upset," Spike explained. "She needs some sleep, someone to sit with her for a while. Think you can handle that for me?"

Dawn nodded, her and Spike between them gently prying Buffy loose. "You're not going," Buffy insisted, reaching out to grab his hand.

"Not going anywhere. I'll be down here with Rupert and I'll come up to say goodnight in a while."

That seemed to satisfy her and she let herself be borne away. Before Spike could speak, Giles said to Tara, "If you'll excuse us, I'd like to have a word with Spike alone."

The moment they were on the back porch, Giles fired his first salvo. "How long has your chip not worked on Buffy?"

"Don't know when it actually stopped, but I've known since November. Found out when Buffy and I..." He shook his head. "It's just her. Works on other people, which is why Harris still lives."

"You could have said something this morning or earlier."

"Well, it's actually something I don't like to talk about!" he snapped. "Yeah, puts Buffy and I back on a level playing field, or so I thought. Doesn't change anything else."

He rubbed his hands over his face, one ending up running through his hair, releasing curls in its wake. "If Buffy's not reading as human for whatever runs this chip, something's off. There are lots of legends about the slayer power, that it's demonic in origin, somehow stolen from the vampires."

"Stolen? I've never heard that term used."

Spike managed a weak smile. "I think we've been reading different books and hearing different stories. Done a fair amount of research on slayers in my time."

Giles could see exactly where Spike was heading and it was unfortunately the same place he'd been heading. "What Antonia saw this morning is the slayer essence, what gives Buffy her strength and abilities."

"Which means it might be a separate entity which takes up with a girl when she's chosen. Makes some sense."

"It's appalling." Giles turned away, not wanting to walk down this road. Everything he'd been taught and read...they'd hinted at such a thing but so obliquely that the mind could easily ignore it.

"The Slayer's a tool for the Council, a lamb to be sent to the slaughter. Given that, do you seriously think those who came before gave a damn about the ethics of wedding a demon to the girl's spirit?"

Giles closed his eyes, but it couldn't shut out the problem. Instead, his mind showed him the image of the First Slayer, death and destruction to anyone who stood in her way. He'd tried very hard to forget that image.

"You'll probably want to stake me for this," Spike continued, "but Buffy's been indulging in her darker side since she came back, giving in to all the little things she'd never dream of doing in the light of day."

"And who's been helping her do that?" Giles demanded.

Spike didn't look a bit penitent. "Yeah, I'm a selfish bastard; had her where I wanted her...but it's pretty damn meaningless when her body's there but her mind's somewhere else. I love Buffy, all of her. Don't want to be just the way she makes herself feel alive for a few hours."

Giles did not want to hear this. "How did you convince her to agree to the reading?"

Spike looked at him for a minute. "We were down at the docks, going after a nest of vampires. Started arguing, then found the nest, took care of them. She was scary, Giles. Loved every minute of it. Reveled in it. When it was done, slammed me against the wall and tried to jump my bones."

Which sounded far more like Faith than Buffy. Had that been what drove the other slayer? An imbalance between her psyche and her powers? "And you gallantly didn't take advantage of her state."

"Nothing gallant about it. I'm tired of that game and told her so. Then she changed, asked me if I was leaving her and collapsed. That's when the crying started."

Before he'd left for England, Buffy had told Giles she intended to try and figure out her feelings for Spike. Giles had hoped she'd discover she didn't return the vampire's affection, prayed she'd at least realize the need to take it slow. To hear her practically begging Spike not to go appalled him beyond measure. "You must have found it gratifying."

A snort. "She's having a panic attack, afraid I'm going to walk out on her like every other man in her life. A good night's sleep and she'll be singing a different tune."

Giles attempted not to wince, realizing some part of her mind now included him in that list of men who left. "Have you considered the possibility that if Buffy comes back to herself, she might not care for you?" he asked, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.

"Of course I've considered it." He fixed Giles with a level gaze. "Have you considered what you're going to do if she does?"

Spike sounded so very sure of himself, though it was impossible to see how if earlier that evening he’d been driven to consider breaking it off with Buffy. Or perhaps he was certain he at least had a chance, more certain than Giles was that he didn’t. "I think I’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. First, we need to concern ourselves with making certain Buffy is taken care of."

There was no hesitation in Spike’s agreement; here at least was one point where they saw eye to eye. Giles might not like it, might worry that all he was doing was providing Spike with further opportunities to secure his place in Buffy’s life, but he also knew Spike would put all his energy into seeing whatever was upsetting her balance was fixed. Knowing he had an ally for better or worse, it was time to move forward. "I’ll see how soon Antonia can be ready to do the reading."

***

"I want you to relax," Antonia told Buffy, sitting directly before her the next evening. "Don’t try to think of anything, just let your mind wander."

Hopefully Buffy could relax; Spike knew he couldn’t. Looking around the living room, it didn’t look as if any of the others could either. Giles’ expression was grim, while Tara and Dawn sat close together and looked worried and Xander had cracked bad jokes until threatened with physical violence. That Giles had done the threatening was a sign of just how seriously he viewed the situation.

Even Anya seemed tense, gingerly chewing on a nail as she watched Antonia begin the reading. She’d offered no resistance to the idea it might be in Buffy’s best interest if the campaign workers took an evening's break from gathering. Anything, she’d said, was better watching Buffy continue to tie herself into knots trying to please everyone.

Buffy was clearly doing her best to relax, eyes closed and breathing in a slow, regular pattern. Did she really want to partake in this, Spike wondered, or was this just another exercise in pleasing the people around her? Both he and Giles had made it quite clear this was what they wanted her to do; hopefully somewhere in her panic of the night before, she’d realized it was necessary.

Unlike some rituals, there wasn’t much for observers to see; no powder or loud incantations, no flashing lights or sparklies to indicate progress. Simply everyone’s attention focused on Buffy and Antonia, carefully monitoring each change of expression on their faces.

After what seemed like an eternity, Antonia leaned back in her chair, looking drained. "I think I could do with something to drink…stronger than tea, if that’s possible, Rupert."

While Giles moved to fetch the drink, Spike watched Buffy as her shoulders slumped, head tilted forward, her hair hiding her face. There was tiredness in every line of her body, as if she’d just run a long hard race. No, there hadn’t been any showy theatrics with this reading, but it didn’t appear as if it’d been easy on either woman.

Antonia leaned forward again to speak to Buffy, her voice so low that even Spike’s hearing could barely catch the words. "We can discuss this in private, if you like, let you decide exactly what you want to share."

"I…" Buffy looked up, casting glances around the room. She took a deep breath and seemed to gather strength from somewhere inside. "I need them to know."

They were words to give Spike hope. Whatever the LeFranc woman had seen, Buffy wasn’t going to hide it in the closet, try to pretend it didn’t exist.

Antonia looked a bit surprised at the decision, but once she’d had a sip of the tumbler of whiskey Giles delivered, she began. "This is probably the most unusual case I’ve dealt with. For one thing, the people I usually read haven’t actually been dead and returned a few months later, but they also don’t usually wish to share what I’ve seen."

She took another drink. "Rupert, I hope you understand this better than I do. There does seem to be two separate patterns of energy inhabiting Miss Summers’ body; one appears to be her natural aura, while the other has a mystical signature. It is also darker and stronger, almost a primal force. It has to be part of the slayer abilities; I’ve never seen anything like it."

Spike caught Giles’ eye across the room. It was a confirmation of what they’d discussed the night before; that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

"It appears that the two auras are supposed to be integrated somehow, but aren’t," Antonia continued. "There are points where they seem to be attempting to mesh, but the results are somewhat discordant. There is also some evidence that dominance passes between the two from moment to moment; I saw at least six such changes during my reading."

Buffy was surprisingly calm during all of this, her hands folded in her lap. Maybe it was the knowing; maybe she’d known all along and was simply only now accepting. The others didn’t seem to be taking it quite as well. Giles looked worried, of course, but he’d looked worried since the evening had begun. There was no sign of jokes from Xander now. Maybe he’d finally realized what the consequences of the magic were.

If Dawn was worried, she didn’t show it. Instead, her face bore a look of grim determination Spike had seen her sister wear far too often. At her side, Tara seemed to have drawn in upon herself. Perhaps she was thinking of what she’d told Buffy when asked to investigate the spell, wondering how she had missed what Giles’ friend had seen.

Only Anya was difficult to read, her expression not much changed from when they’d began. That she made no comment was telling; it was unusual for Anya to pass up a chance to share her opinion on otherworldly matters.

"Do you have any suggestions?" Buffy asked, breaking the silence.

Antonia offered a smile. "As I said before, I’m not a psychiatrist and I’m not an expert on slayers. What I can tell you is that if something isn’t done, the mood shifts you’ve been experiencing are likely only going to get worse."

"But there is something we can do, right?" Xander shifted, sitting forward in his seat. "I mean, I know it’s not a monster we can fight, but there’s got to be something better than just sitting around waiting for Buffy to get worse."

"I certainly hope there is," Giles said. "Now that we know there is a specific problem, we have a place to start."

"It’s going to take a lot of research," Tara added.

"Hey, we excel at research. Research is one of the things we do best." Dawn gave Buffy a determined look. "And I am going to help. No arguments."

Buffy smiled. "No arguments here."

That inspired Dawn to hug Buffy, which in turn inspired Xander to turn this into one of the Scoobies' patented soggy group hugs. Tara was included, naturally, as was Anya. It was when Giles was pulled in that Spike decided he'd had enough.

The night was cool after the heat of the day, the sky clear with a light dusting of stars. Taking up his usual spot under the tree in the front yard, Spike leaned back against the trunk and considered his next move. That he'd been right when he'd taunted Buffy that she'd come back wrong wasn't necessarily something to make him happy; if what was wrong was fixed, where did it leave him?

He wanted Buffy to get better; there was no doubt about that. He'd never been able to stand seeing those he loved in pain and he'd help Giles move heaven and earth to fix this problem if he had to. It was what would happen after they accomplished her cure that concerned him. Would these tentative steps they'd taken in the last few weeks mean nothing? Once her energies were back in balance, he had to face the possibility she'd choose to walk away...and he'd come to realize that if she did, there was damn little he'd be able to do to win her back.

No, he wouldn't think about it now, not wanting to look forward to that future just as Giles didn't want to consider the possibility Buffy might actually fall for Spike. One step at a time, the way he'd spent most of his existence for the last century, dealing with the task at hand and not thinking about what came after.

"Spike?" Dawn's voice called from the porch. "Are you out there?"

For a moment, he considered not responding, slipping a little further into the tree's shadows so she wouldn't see him, but the gentle patter of feet down the steps told him she was moving in his direction. "Figured you'd be here," she said as she drew even with the tree. "Y'know, Mom once suggested we put an ashtray out here so you'd stop dropping cigarette butts on the ground."

Despite himself, Spike smiled. "Never meant to annoy Joyce."

"Nah, it didn't really bother her. If it did, she would have said something when you came over." Dawn leaned in. "And she liked you way more than she ever liked Angel."

"Still miss her?"

For a moment, Dawn's eyes moistened and she nodded. "Me, too," he confided.

The hug was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Another complication to the situation; if Buffy walked away from him, how would it affect his relationship with Dawn? That was something he definitely didn't want to consider at the moment.

After a few moments, Dawn recovered her dignity and stepped back. "Buffy was wondering where you disappeared to."

"You know how I feel about group hugs. Since I'm not really part of the group..."

"Yes, you are," Dawn insisted. "Buffy thinks so, too. She got upset when she looked around and realized you weren't there. That's why she sent me to get you."

That Buffy noticed his absence didn't surprise him; she'd done it before and even come after him. But he suspected that on those occasions it was as much because she wanted to escape her friends as curiosity about his departure. Sending Dawn to fetch him was a new twist, though, one he wasn't quite certain how to interpret as they headed back inside.

The group hug had definitely broken up, Xander sitting on the couch talking to Tara, while Giles and Anya had their heads together in the opposite corner. Spike was tempted to head in that direction, knowing it likely concerned shop business. But there was also Buffy speaking with Antonia LeFranc and there lay a more immediate concern.

She looked up at he approached. "You're not bailing?"

"Not unless you want me to."

A bit shyly, she reached for his hand. "No. I'd rather have you stay."

That was enough for him. Standing there with Buffy, listening as Antonia discussed her reading in greater detail, he knew they didn’t have the all answers. Feeling at bit bold, he released her hand and slid his arm around her waist. She didn't pull away, but gave him a smile before returning her attention to the conversation at hand.

No, they didn't have all the answers. But they did have a start.

Back to Episode 15: Registering the Dead

On to Episode 17: Exes and Other Catastrophes