Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Something shifted that night in the cellar, where Spike led her to all the bodies he’d sired and buried. 

Maybe more than one something. Several factors that had led up to it, anyway.

First was the part where she couldn’t bring herself to believe Spike was guilty. She couldn’t live in a world where she’d be forced to kill Spike for murdering and feeding again, and so she had her already tired and worried crew search as hard as they could for some evidence to prove he was innocent.

Second there was the fact that… though Spike had initially denied doing anything evil, he’d called her up the minute he started to doubt himself. Confused and newly ensouled and probably still offended that Buffy had called him out on anything, but he found a phone and called her and confessed to the sins he could barely remember.

Buffy had never had anyone, anyone so freely and meekly admit their wrongs to her before. 

The fight in the cellar with all the newly risen vampires… that was pretty run-of-the-mill. Spike losing it and hearing and speaking to voices who weren’t there, that was something she’d just come to associate with his shiny new soul.

But it was the fact that insane, murderous Spike needed only a drop of her blood to come back to herself that started the shift, in Buffy’s mind. The way that he bared his chest to her and begged her to kill him, with the proof of his wrongdoings now dust at her feet, and her arm still bleeding from the cut he’d delivered. 

And she couldn’t kill him. This wasn’t a man who deserved to die. This… this was the Spike she never thought she’d see, but which a corner of her heart had always longed to know.

A good man. A confused, lost, guilty man, certainly, but one who recognized the wrong, one who was trying to amend his evil ways, one who deferred to her judgement and reached for the light, however timidly.

“There’s something playing with us,” she told him, and her heart ached a little at the desperate way he whipped his head around, as if trying to see who’d been pulling his strings.

“What is it?” he asked, voice still trembling, tears still sliding down his cheeks. “Why is it doing this to me?”

“I don’t know,” she said. 

He reached out a shaking, aimless hand, and gripped her shoulder tightly. He scooted close, and she watched in amazement as he leaned himself against her, letting his tears flow more freely. “Help me,” he begged. “Can you help me? I don’t know why I did this. Or… how I did this. And I’m… I need help…”

And she hated how timid and scared he sounded, but this… this was new, too. Help, that she could do. It was sometimes all she knew how to do. She couldn't love and support and say all the right things to the people who needed it… but if he asked her for help, of course she would help him.

She shifted so she could wrap her arms around him, heart pounding wildly as she drew him close to her chest, and cast her eyes around the room just as he had a minute ago.

“I’ll help you,” she said softly.

Spike clung to her tightly, and she tightened her hold on him in turn.

“We’ll find out what’s doing this, and we’ll stop it,” she said, voice more firm, hoping that whatever it was could hear the threat in her tone.

And as Spike wept against her chest, holding onto her like a child being soothed by its mother, Buffy realized that what it was that had shifted.

Spike was hers, now, in a brand new way that he never had been before.

And there was nothing, nothing, that would cause her to end his life now, nor would she let anyone else do so to him.

***

“This thing’s gotten closer to Spike than any of us,” Buffy said, casting her eyes around the room… at Dawn and Willow, who had recently had a rough night of being teased by this thing, and at Xander and Anya, who would probably be next. 

To say nothing of herself. She wasn’t afraid of ghosts, but the idea of someone loved and lost suddenly coming back and talking to her as a mouthpiece of evil…

“And if you want to understand it…” Willow said slowly.

Buffy shrugged. “I’m gonna have to get close to Spike.”

Xander shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Buffy said. “Whatever this thing ‘from beneath us’ is… it’s bad. And it’s only getting worse.”

Her gaze drifted over to Spike again. He was just sitting in that chair, exactly where she’d placed him, holding a blanket tightly around his shoulders. Like he was completely traumatized. 

Her heart twisted as she heard again his desperate “help me,” in the cellar earlier that evening. Spike wasn’t supposed to be lost… Spike always knew exactly who he was and what he was doing, even if his plans were never very well thought out. Or he was too impatient to follow through on them.

She looked at the others with a start, realizing they’d all been watching her quietly with sympathetic looks on their faces. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Willow said quickly. “So, um… what’s the plan for tonight?”

“Well,” Buffy said slowly, and looked at Dawn. “I guess yeah, he is gonna be staying here. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure,” Dawn shrugged, not meeting her eyes, and infusing her voice with as much teenage snark as she could. “Why wouldn’t it be okay with me?”

“He’s not gonna hurt you, Dawn,” Buffy said gently. “I won’t let him, okay?”

Dawn didn’t answer, and Buffy sighed, and looked at Xander with a weak smile. “So, you can start letting out that closet to other potential roomies, because he’s probably not gonna go back there.”

Xander nodded. “I’ll bring his stuff over tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Buffy whispered. She watched Dawn walk Anya and Xander out the door, and turned back to Willow. “What do you think about all of this?”

Willow shrugged, and looked at Spike behind her. “I think it’s scary, having your head messed with like that. Which is what… Tara kept trying to tell me, when I was trying to remove all our painful memories.” Her voice wobbled for a minute, but then she drew a breath and said, “So, I think you’re right to try and help him.”

“I don’t want to kill him,” Buffy said. “I don’t even think I can.”

“Which is why I didn’t suggest it,” Willow said, with a quick smile. “I know you’re a give-second-chances-to-murderers type of gal. And being in that latter camp, I’m fully on board with it.”

“Thanks, Will,” Buffy said quietly. “That means a lot.”

“But… um… you are gonna really keep an eye on him, right? Maybe bring back those chains that were so fun when he first came to you with a chip in his head?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Buffy smiled. 

“Okay,” Willow said, and was definitely still nervous, but she gave another quick smile, and squeezed Buffy’s hand as she stood up. “Good night, then.”

“Night,” Buffy murmured, and turned her gaze back to Spike, absently listening until both Willow and Dawn were in their respective bedrooms before she stood up, and moved towards his chair.

He raised cautious, resigned eyes to her, just like he had in the cellar. He was still just waiting for her to put a stake through his chest— hoping for it, even, and her heart was breaking at the sight. “Stop,” she whispered, laying a hand on his head. “I’m not gonna kill you, Spike. End of discussion.”

He didn’t answer, but his eyes closed, and he inhaled slowly, leaning into her touch the slightest bit. He looked so tired… he’d looked tired for so much of tonight. She found that her thumb was rubbing his forehead distractedly, and his eyes opened again, and focused on hers.

“What now?” he murmured, through lips that barely moved.

Everyone kept asking her that. Everyone always asked her that, and she usually had some kind of an idea… but right now she didn’t know. She was torn between the Slayer part saying she needed to tie him up, make sure he didn’t harm any of her family, and the Buffy part… who was saying the opposite. 

She made up her mind, though, watching his eyes blink ever-so-slowly as they watched her, waiting for her answer. She didn’t care if some evil ghost thing was baiting him into hurting people; Spike was too broken and too exhausted to wreak any more havoc tonight. There was no need for chains or ropes or anything else until morning. 

She backed up until her legs hit the couch, and sat down slowly. “Come here,” she said gently. She needed to see if he would. Needed him to come to her, rather than going to him, or pulling him with her.

He was still sitting in the exact same position as when they’d arrived home. Still wrapped up in the blanket like he’d freeze to death without it. Still slowly blinking at her like it was too much effort even to do that. But Buffy just watched him, waiting, until his legs slowly unfolded, and he stood up, and shuffled over to her. 

He perched gingerly on the couch next to her, and Buffy tugged the blanket away from his shoulders. He let go at once, and she wrapped it around her own shoulders, holding the corners in her hands, and opened one arm like a giant, fluffy wing.

And Spike made the tiniest whimpering noise she’d ever heard, and shifted closer, laying his head gingerly against her shoulder, and relaxing entirely when she wrapped her blanketed arms around him. His eyes dropped shut at once, and she felt him growing heavy against her at once. 

“I’m gonna fix this,” Buffy murmured, hugging him close and laying her head on his. “I’m… probably gonna have to tie you up, just so you know.”

He just hummed, as if in agreement. 

“But not tonight,” Buffy whispered. “Just sleep now, okay?”

“Dangerous,” he muttered. “Shouldn’t be near me…”

“I can take you,” she said, still in a whisper. “No offense, but you could never take me when you were trying, Spike. You’re not gonna have better luck when your heart’s not even in it.”

He just nuzzled her shoulder slightly in response, and was silent again. And for a long while, an immeasurable amount of time that could have been hours, and could have been minutes, Buffy just sat there, with the blanket wrapped around them both, feeling his solid weight in her arms as he slept. He was breathing gently, which was an enormous comfort to her, and there was no doubt from any part of her brain that this was the right thing to do in this moment. To sit here with him, guarding and protecting, being a safe haven for him to rest in. 

She tensed slightly when she heard someone coming down the stairs, and Dawn paused on her way to the kitchen, and stared at them. 

“Hi,” Buffy decided to say. “Everything okay?”

“I was just getting some water,” Dawn said, staring at the Spike bundle in her arms. “So when you said get close to him, you really meant it, huh?”

Buffy glanced down, at his dark, dark eyelashes skimming his cheeks. “He needs me,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Dawn said. “Well. I don’t think anyone’s arguing that.” And she continued on her way.

And still Buffy sat with him, until she realized that she was starting to drift off as well. She gave him one last squeeze, and carefully let go of the blanket. She didn’t think he’d wake up, but she was still gentle with him as she stood, and moved him to lie on the couch where she’d been sitting. 

She spread the blanket over him, and pressed her hand over his, before backing away to sit in the chair across from him, keeping her vigil over him until the sun rose. 

***

She’d spent so many years trying to get Spike to leave her alone. When he’d taken off to apparently get his soul, she’d tried to tell herself it was a good thing, that this was what she’d always wanted, this would be better for both of them in the long run.

But then he’d come back. And everything had changed. And every day even more things were changing. After she’d brought him to her house, it seemed like things were changing every hour.

So when he was snatched up and locked away in some cave with a feral vampire guarding it, she was struck with the panicking thought that she’d never lost him before.

It was a horrible, horrible feeling. And it didn’t stop until she found him.

And all the fear that had gripped her heart the past several weeks, the worry over what the First was doing to the vampire she knew was changing into someone amazing, the pain that had come with fighting that Chaka Khan demon…

It had all disappeared into nothing when she’d found Spike in that cave, and his hand had gripped her shoulder. Testing her realness for himself. They’d stumbled home, slowly and painfully, both of them exhausted but not letting up their grip on the other.

She brought him home, tended to his wounds in the basement while he got probably his first good sleep in weeks, and was determined never ever to have that feeling of having lost him again. 

He was hers. Hers to protect. Hers to help. Hers to not lose.

And she couldn’t stop touching him. He was here. He was real. He was safe. If she lost contact with him for even a minute, she was sure he would disappear, become an apparition, or once again a prisoner that she couldn’t find.

She heard the basement door creak open, and a slow step on the stairs.

“Buffy,” Giles said, and she could hear the relief in his voice. 

“Hey,” she said without turning.

“You found him, I see.”

“I did.”

“And I’ve heard multiple reports of how magnificent you were tonight.”

“Thanks.”

“However, we need to think about what comes tomorrow. Tonight was a victory, but what’s to stop another Turok-Han from coming after us, or the First impersonating another girl?”

Oh. It wasn’t called a Chaka Khan. 

Buffy drew a breath, and gripped Spike’s hand with hers, so she could turn to look at Giles. “Did you and Anya learn anything from that… Eye thing?”

Giles took off his glasses to polish. “Nothing… nothing relevant.”

Buffy nodded slowly. “That’s okay. Thanks for trying.” She turned back to the cot. “So, um… it seems like it was a lot of work for the First to find someone to bleed for that… Turok-Han, so we’ve probably got at least a few days before we have to worry about another one coming after us.”

“Perhaps. Yes.”

“And as for the First impersonating one of us…” Buffy gave a helpless shrug. She and several members of her team had been fooled by it, Spike not least of all. If anyone was captured and quietly killed, the First could set up shop here for a good long while before it was noticed, just like it had done with Eve.

Buffy looked down at Spike’s hand that she was still gripping. She frowned, and laced her fingers with his.

“Touch,” she murmured. 

“What?”

“It can’t be touched,” Buffy said. “The First. So…” She drew another breath. “I think we’re all gonna have to get real comfortable with each other, real fast.”

***

She waited until the following evening to assemble them all, giving them a day to feel safer than they had, and to relax and not think about fighting. There would be plenty of hard work ahead, and they were all still so new.

Three more girls arrived on the bus that day, and Buffy wanted everyone to be in there when she announced her plan. 

Spike had woken up and been slowly introduced to the group, which was all super awkward, Buffy thought, because he was still reserved and exhausted and injured, and the new girls didn’t know how to react to a real live vampire, but, well, they would all just have to get used to it.

“Okay,” Buffy said, when she had everyone’s attention. “So, now you’ve all gotten a peek at the evil we’re facing. We know it can be defeated, but we also know it’s not going to be easy. It will be looking at the weakest among us, trying to find the defenseless, or any of us that aren’t ready to fight, and aren’t prepared to go on the defense. We’re going to start proper training now; exercises, weapons masterclasses, field trips to demon grounds. I’m the only Slayer here, and that won’t change until I die. But every single one of you in this room will need to learn to fight, and will need to be prepared to walk into battle, and to march when I say march. I know a lot of you came here to be safe. And you are safer here than anywhere else. But I can’t protect all of you, so you’re going to have to learn to protect yourselves. If we can save the world and stop this evil, then nothing else matters.”

She paused, watching them all to see how they’d take it. She could see some disgruntled looks from her “nothing else matters” comment, and fear on a lot of faces, especially the brand new girls. But everyone was still watching her, and even the girls who had argued against her crazy plan the other night weren’t saying anything now.

“This is war,” Buffy continued. “And I’ve already said that we are an army. But I’m not going to say we’re not here to make friends, and that we shouldn’t get sentimental about the people we’re fighting alongside. Every other person that you fight for, and try to stay alive for, will push you that much closer to victory. Don’t let it distract you, and don’t put any one person above the safety of the rest. But otherwise, we are going to be a family, and we are going to make friends.”

She watched them all again, and caught sight of Willow smiling encouragingly at her. She could feel Spike behind her, leaning against the wall, and knew he was backing her up, too.

“Okay,” she said. “So, uh… here’s the first kinda weird thing that I’m introducing. I don’t ever, ever want the First to be here without our knowledge again, posing as anyone or talking to anyone or deceiving anyone. The fastest and easiest way to guarantee that everyone you’re with is actually who you think they are… is to touch them.”

There were a couple of snickers from the group.

“I know,” Buffy said. “It’s gonna be weird. And a lot of us are still strangers to everyone else, or don’t trust everyone else yet. But it’s gotta be like this. All the time. Always. In fact, everyone right now, reach out and touch the person next to you.”

No one moved, except for Andrew, who clasped Dawn’s and Giles’ hands willingly. They both immediately shook him off.

“Come on,” Buffy said, and held out one hand to Molly standing next to her, and reached her other hand behind her.  “It’s gonna get a lot weirder than this, so if we can’t handle this exercise, we’re all in trouble.”

Molly giggled nervously, but took her hand. Behind her, Buffy felt the cool brush of Spike’s fingers against her palm, and she shivered before they retreated.

More snickers and awkward giggles from the group, but everyone did reach out and hold hands or poke or hug the person next to them.

“Good,” Buffy said, nodding firmly. “Everyone here is not the First. Say it with me.”

“Not the First,” the group chorused.

Buffy nodded again. “Every training exercise, we’re gonna start with that. Anyone who doesn’t have a bunk buddy is going to be assigned one. Trips to the bathroom are always gonna be in groups of at least two. Basically, we’re gonna try not having anyone be by themselves, at any time, but if you have to be, you’re going to confirm your realness the next time you see someone. Be prepared for the other person poking you to make sure if you don’t verify it first.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” one of the girls said, and it only took Buffy a second to remember her name was Chloe. “I mean, someone could overdo it, and be inappropriate about it. Being touched isn’t always comfortable for people.”

“I know,” Buffy agreed. “So you can set your boundaries, and let others know how much or little you’re willing to be touched. It does have to be something, though, so establish your do’s and don'ts with each other. If anyone doesn’t respect your boundaries, or makes anything weird or uncomfortable for you, you can come to me and I’ll deal with it. But as long as we’re at war, you are all going to have to be okay with some touching. That’s just part of it.”

Buffy heard Spike slipping away, and only turned for a second to see him heading toward the basement. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, because she hadn’t expected he’d be the first one to break protocol, but she also knew he was still tired and maybe just… needed to not be there anymore.

“Do we have to touch Andrew?” Vi squeaked.

“Hey!” Andrew said. “Just because I’m formerly evil doesn’t mean my feelings can’t still be hurt!”

“Yes,” Buffy said firmly. “Everyone. No exceptions. This is how we stay safe. The First has appeared to isolated people, gotten in their heads and made them scared and vulnerable, so this is a precaution against it, too. We can work on fighting Bringers and scary vamps and whatever else it wants to throw at us. But until we know how to defeat an entity that doesn’t have a physical body, the best thing we can do to fight against it is to make sure we’re not isolated. Any questions?”

There weren’t any, so Buffy nodded again. “Okay. Work on getting comfortable with each other right now, then, let people know what is a no-no for you and what’s okay. We’ll regroup in a little bit, and discuss what comes next.”

She turned as the group started chattering, and made her way to the basement. If Spike was laying down, he was going to be in so much trouble.

He actually was laying down… but he’d chained himself to the wall, and was staring at the ceiling with one hand under his head.

“Hey,” Buffy said. “Way to let everyone know you’re not gonna follow my orders.”

His head turned to her, a pained expression cutting across his exhausted face. “That’s not… you know I’ll follow you anywhere, Slayer.”

“You missed the ending part of my speech, where I said part of the way the First gets us is by attacking the isolated. And you just went and isolated yourself.”

“Buffy,” he said gently. “The First isn’t fooling me anymore. The trigger is still active, and your buddy system can’t stop that, even if you could find someone willing to play house with me. I have to be isolated. And I have to stay chained up, unless you’re there, unless you need me for something.”

Everything inside Buffy wanted to argue it. Everything in her screamed that it wasn’t fair that after all he’d done and been through, after the way he’d tried so hard, and hell, after their whole history together, he still had to be chained alone in the basement. 

But she couldn’t really think of another solution. It was true that everyone was distrustful of Spike right now and wouldn’t want to touch him, or be near him, or take trips to the bathroom with him. It was true that he still had a trigger that might be even more dangerous if he had a bunk buddy. She huffed, and sat down on the edge of his cot.

Spike tilted his head, and frowned at her, before pushing himself into a sitting position. “Hey,” he said softly. “You’re not… actually upset about this, are you?”

“I wanted you out of the school basement because it was killing you,” Buffy said. “You were alone then, isolated, and always in the dark.”

“Vampire, pet. All of that comes with the territory.”

“But at least when you were staying with Xander… before we knew about the trigger… you had a roommate. You got a chance to become all sane again, and you were sleeping in a real bed, without chains, above ground.”

“Buffy,” Spike whispered, and the chains clinked as he lifted his fingers to her chin. He smiled when she looked at him. “I’m in your house, pet. I’m being sheltered by you, and I know you’ll stand between me and them should I try to go on a murder spree again. This is the safest I’ve felt in… in years. Just being here. Knowing you’re upstairs. I’ll be all right. Promise.”

Her hand gravitated to his. “I’ll come check on you,” she said. “As often as I can.”

“I know you will,” he smiled.

“And… and if there’s anything, anything you need to be more comfortable, or to not be bored…”

“Just need to shut my eyes at present, don’t need anything beyond that until I’m healed up.”

“Okay.” Buffy bit her lip, her thumb rubbing over his hand. “Um… you can get yourself out of those chains though, right? If you had to?”

“I can.”

“And you’ll… come get me, if you need something?”

“Buffy.”

“Okay, okay.” She stood up, then looked down at his ratty blanket. She was about to ask if he was warm enough, before remembering that he was a vampire. She blushed and turned before she could ask anyway. “Um, have a good nap.”

She heard him chuckling softly as she darted up the stairs.

***

He took longer to heal than she would have liked.

She knew there were various reasons for that… torture wasn’t a fast thing to recover from, even for vampires, and he still had the weight of his new soul making him feel tired and guilty and only half-present all the time. 

Money was still tight, especially with all these new girls coming around, and she couldn’t afford to get him better blood than whatever they were practically giving away at the butcher’s. 

And he was alone. She hated that he was so alone. She didn’t know if that actually had anything to do with him getting better or not, but it did sort of make sense that if there was no one down there encouraging him to get better, he really had no motivation to fight any harder than he already was.

She was being pulled in a thousand different directions, what with her counseling at the school, and research, and more girls to feed and train and get up to speed, and the everyday maintenance of the house, and Dawn who still had to go to school and get her homework done.

She ached for more time to go down and sit with him. He needed a vacation, a real one, the kind where you could just sit and do nothing for hours and hours and hours, and would come back all refreshed and happy and tanned… if you were human.

As it was, she was just glad when he was well enough to come train some of the girls with her.

Even if… he still had some injuries that were bothering him. As evidenced by the way he winced in the cemetery when she’d thrown him on his back. 

But even though she knew that, she wasn’t really expecting to walk down the basement steps early the next morning to see Spike with his shirt off.

It startled him more than it did her, apparently. He was sitting on his cot, prodding his bare side, but his head whipped up to face her, and he clutched his t-shirt to his chest.

She smiled to hopefully ease the tension. “Hey. Sorry.”

“Wasn’t expecting you,” he said, his voice sounding strained. 

She kept her smile and took a step forward, cocking her head to the side. “So, this is the William in you, right?”

“What?”

“Blushing Victorian,” she said, taking another step. “When seeing an ankle was considered naughty? That soul’s really bringing out a whole new you.” 

His eyes were wide and terrified as she grew closer, and she frowned when he seemed to be getting more tense. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“Get away,” he whispered.

Oh. Great job, Buffy, start flirting with him and he thinks you’re the ultimate evil.

“Sorry,” she said, closing her eyes. “That was dumb.” She reached out, and squeezed his bicep. “Not the First.”

He let out a gasp, and then a rueful chuckle. “Oh.”

“That’s why we do that exercise,” Buffy said, with a more gentle smile as she sat next to him. “I should have done it before I said anything. I just, I don’t know. Forget with you, I guess. Maybe because you’ve made yourself an exception.”

He gave a tight smile, and then tried to put his shirt on again. He hissed in pain, and Buffy covered his hand with hers. 

“Leave it,” she said. “It’s okay.”

“Was just… checkin’ on my ribs.”

“Let me see?”

He shook his head. “Told you, I’m fine. Was just checking.”

“Okay. Let me see anyway.”

“Stubborn bint,” he muttered, but moved his hands away, and let her inspect.

His skin looked completely healed, like it had with the brief glimpse she’d gotten in the cemetery. But when she prodded it, he hissed and flinched. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s all right. Think they’re as healed as they’re gonna get. I’m just… waiting for the ache to fade.”

“Does it hurt more on your front? Or your back?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. Back is more tired… like all the muscles are strained. Think there’s internal bruising in the front.”

“I’m sorry.” She laid a hand on his stomach again, fingertips gliding over his skin like she could heal him faster by doing so. She thought of Willow, who grew herself more skin after the Gnarl had hurt her, and Buffy had been able to hold her hands and offer her strength.

She wished she could do that for Spike.

Spike was now sitting very still, shaky breaths leaking slowly out from between his lips. She was still touching his stomach, and she ran her hand around his ribcage, up his back to between his shoulder blades.

He tightened when she started rubbing her hand in slow circles, and she said, “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he whispered. “No.”

“Lay down,” she whispered back.

He obeyed, moving slowly, like he was afraid of disturbing her and whatever she was doing. He rolled onto his stomach, and Buffy applied more pressure, as she moved her hand up and down the broad planes of his back.

He made a whimpering sound, and she watched him bite down on his pillow.

“Good?” she murmured.

He nodded, still chewing on his pillow.

“Okay,” she said. “Just relax, Spike. Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

She shifted, bringing one knee up onto the cot so she could lean over him, and press both her hands into his back. She didn’t use her full strength— even the full strength of a regular human might hurt him when she didn’t really know what she was doing. But he could also take more than a regular human could, so she wasn’t too worried.

The thing about touching people all the time now was that it wasn’t so scary anymore, to just have her hands on his naked back, stroking and rubbing and pouring all the care and attention she could into this.

Not scary, but still charged. His skin seemed to burn wherever her fingers passed, and every inch of him that she touched poured comfort and pleasure back into her. 

She could tell he was suppressing most of his sounds. He liked making noise, he liked verbalizing his feelings. He had to show everything off, big and proud, and she knew he would be moaning uncontrollably if he wasn’t being so careful right now.

As it was, little grunts and groans and whimpers escaped from him every so often, and he buried his face more deeply in his pillow every time. But they delighted her, and she pressed harder, challenging him to make more sounds for her.

He was so beautiful, and while she didn’t doubt he’d known it before the soul, she wondered if he knew now. And if he knew that just touching him was a gratifying thing all on its own.

He chained himself up alone down here because he didn’t think anyone could stand touching him. Did they all know that they were missing out? Didn’t they realize that they should be so lucky to have a chance to just… enjoy him like this, hurting and humble, giving and taking in a way that wasn’t even overtly sexual?

Not that she’d ever let anyone else touch him like this, of course. She’d punch anybody who dared.

His sounds started devolving into sleepy hums, and Buffy eased up on the pressure. He was absolutely motionless beneath her, relaxed even further than she’d expected, and by the time he’d fallen completely silent, she was back to simply stroking him, her fingertips barely dancing over his skin.

She’d told Amanda that it was over, between her and Spike. Absolutely, seriously, definitely over. But she’d also said that it was confusing to be over.

And it was confusing. There still felt like too much history between them, too much distance between the worlds they lived in, and too many changes they’d gone through over the years, together and separately.

But also… there could be moments like this. Where all that mattered was taking care of him. And all that mattered to him was that she was there, that he was near her, even if they hadn’t talked much and he was asleep now.

She let herself slump over, leaning her cheek on his spine and wrapping her arms around him.

Everything with him was always confusing. But touching him was always so, so nice.

***

Buffy was relieved that, for the most part, everyone seemed to be integrating the touching policy very well.

Andrew was a problem at first, mostly because everyone tried not to be alone in a room with him so they wouldn’t have to be the one to touch him, and then because he was so frustrated that he didn’t get to join in that he went around poking everyone he could.

Buffy knew he wasn’t actually trying to annoy or upset anyone. He just really had issues with being excluded from things.

But Amanda seemed fascinated with him and was willing to touch his shoulder when needed, and Buffy took on the burden of being the designated Andrew-toucher when there simply wasn’t anyone else around who could stand it.

The snickers and dirty jokes were prominent at first, but eventually leveled out, and the weirdness of it wore off, until it just became second nature to reach out and brush your hand against the arm or shoulder of anyone you passed, murmuring “not the First” as if it were a mantra or a common greeting.

The only other problem, really, was kind of a surprising one.

“Willow?” Buffy asked, frowning as she looked at her best friend on the porch. “It’s late, what are you still doing out here?”

Willow jumped like she’d been found out, and slammed shut the book she was holding. “Oh,” she said. “Well, it… it can get so noisy in there, you know, and I figure, no point in trying to sleep as long as there’s still girls awake who are gonna chatter your ear off, and—”

“Will,” Buffy said slowly. “Are any of them giving you problems?”

Willow pursed her lips, and tried to grin through it. “What makes you think that?” she said. “Nothing I can’t handle, I mean, I’m older than all of them, and I have magic—”

“That you’re not using right now,” Buffy said. “I know you’re trying to be careful, even though you could take any of them down. I see Spike doing the same exact thing. Which means you can give it to me to handle, Willow. It’s okay.”

Willow blew out a sigh. “Let the record show that I am not tattling on anyone,” she said. “And I’m not coming to you to fix my relationship problems, okay?”

Buffy blinked. “Uh… this is a relationship problem? I thought it was about one of the girls being weird with you.”

“It’s both,” Willow said softly. “Kennedy, she’s… been hitting on me ever since she got here. And I’m flattered, really, and she’s sweet and all…”

“She’s a brat,” Buffy said flatly.

“Well… yeah, but she’s tried to be sweet to me. Except that I told her I’m still grieving my last relationship and also she’s only 17 and I feel weird about that. Anyway she’s… not taking the rejection well. She’s finding reasons for us to touch, a lot, or be near each other, or cuddle in bed, and it’s all under the pretense that we’re doing it to ward off the First, but she’s still trying to hit on me, and…”

Buffy gave a firm nod. “I feel a great responsibility to these girls,” she said. “I consider them under my protection, and any one of them should feel safe enough to come to me for anything they need or are scared about. But if Kennedy crossed a line then she’s gonna see what it feels like to have a Slayer put her back in her place.”

“Thanks,” Willow said softly. “Oh— but remember that I didn’t tattle on her. I would have handled it myself if I didn’t… think I might go all scary-veiny-Willow on her.”

“I know,” Buffy said. “I’ll tell her I saw her making unwanted advances on you.”

Willow gave a smile, that pure kind of “my best friend is the greatest” smile that Buffy hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

It made her feel more like herself again, to be able to repair her friendship with Willow just a little bit more.

***

As Spike became more involved in training with the girls, he seemed more comfortable to come up from the basement and loiter around, agreeing to the ritual of reaching out to touch anyone who passed, and letting them touch in turn. Buffy watched him carefully catalog everyone’s responses, however, and anyone who flinched or who eyed him with disgust or fear were never touched by him again.

He was quiet, and he was obedient, and while he slipped in some of his trademark snark while training with the girls, he followed Buffy’s lead to test how far he could take it, how much he could scare them or tease them or push them.

He never seemed to mind when his basement was used as a training room, and he had to find somewhere else in the house to spend the day. He smiled at Buffy whenever he saw her, and though he’d been violently awoken from nightmares his first few nights after coming back from the cave, those seemed to have dwindled now.

Buffy thought it was amazing, the way he could pick himself up when needed and force himself to be present in the world, helping where he could and being courteous and friendly to anyone who behaved the same with him.

Because she knew his soul was still plaguing him. She watched him, far more than he probably knew. 

And on an evening where his face was tight and pinched, his eyes hollowed and his words clipped, she made the decision to say something.

She found him on the back porch, staring out into the night, hands dangling between his knees. It was almost strange seeing him so still and idle, not even a cigarette in his hands to fidget with.

“Hey,” Buffy whispered, closing the door behind her. 

He turned his head to give her a welcoming smile, as she sat next to him.

“I have to go out later tonight,” she told him. “Giles wants me to track a Bringer and see what happens to him when the sun rises.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think they’re impervious to sunlight, pet.”

“Yeah, well, try explaining that to the guy who’s fascinated as to the reason why.”

Spike chuckled softly, but continued looking out into the night, and Buffy swallowed nervously. “Would you want to come?”

He was quiet for a moment, and then his fingers began cautiously traveling towards her hand. He squeezed her fingers, and let out a breath. 

“It’s me,” Buffy said.

“Yeah,” Spike whispered. He cleared his throat. “I’d love to, pet.”

Buffy nodded. “Well, it won’t be for hours yet. And, um, I know you’re supposed to be a creature of the night and all that, but I know you haven’t… been able to sleep in the day much, either. With your basement being such an active training area and all that.”

He turned to her, a puzzled frown on his face. “What?”

“Spike,” Buffy said gently. “Is today… not a good day?”

She knew the answer already. She knew there were days when the soul seemed like too much to carry, and he had to sit still and rigid and just wait for it to pass.

“I’ll be all right,” he said.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He turned to her again, watching her for a long moment, before shaking his head. “Not a good day,” he repeated in a whisper.

Buffy nodded. “And… that probably makes it hard to sleep too, huh?”

He opened his mouth, probably to reassure her again that he would be all right, but at her stern look he glanced away, and answered her question instead. “Yeah.”

Buffy nodded. His hand was still on hers, and she turned it over, and slid her fingers into his. She tugged him up, and she could tell he had questions, but he didn’t ask any of them as he dutifully followed her into the house, and up the stairs.

Almost everyone was still in the basement, and there were no questions as Buffy led him up to her bedroom. She closed the door halfway, then settled on the bed, leaning up against the headboard.

She held her arms out to him, and he looked at her for a long time, swallowing and pondering, but her lips were set in a firm line, and there was no mistaking her intention.

He shed his boots, and stepped towards her warily. He kept his eyes on her the whole time as he climbed up next to her, then draped himself across her, head leaning on her chest, and arms sliding around her waist.

One of her arms held him tight, and the other began petting his hair. And she knew he wanted to speak, wanted to ask if she was sure, if she didn’t think someone would barge in on them like this, if she had any intention of sleeping tonight, too, but he didn’t utter a word.

“It’s okay,” Buffy finally said, because he was still tense in her arms. “You need to trust me, Spike. It’s really okay.”

Trusting her, that he could do. Buffy watched in pure relief as his eyes dropped shut, and he let his muscles relax, falling asleep in the arms of the girl he trusted more than anyone in the world.

***

“Buffy?” came a soft voice, and Buffy opened her eyes to see her sister standing in the doorway. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and really had only been dozing… a brief glance at the clock showed she and Spike had only been lying here for about half an hour or so.

“Hey,” Buffy said, smiling and keeping her own voice soft. “What’s up?”

Dawn looked at Spike warily, and stepped into the room like she was approaching a sleeping dragon.

“Um,” she said. “It started raining, so Giles sent me up here to tell you that your mission to find the Bringer might have to wait until tomorrow night.”

“He’s from England. Doesn’t he have rain like, every day?”

“I know, right?” Dawn said, and shook her head. “British people are so weird.”

“Says the teenager studying demon languages.”

“I’m helping, it’s not like it’s my cool new hobby!” Dawn protested, and Buffy giggled softly.

Dawn looked like she was trying scowl, but a grin broke out on her face, too, and she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“So,” she said. “Speaking of weird British guys, um… is he okay?”

Buffy looked down at Spike. He was still curled on her chest, absolutely motionless and for the moment, peaceful. His chest rose and fell, not as frequently or as deeply as a human’s, but enough for Buffy to feel comforted in his undeadness.

“He was like… all stressed and tense today,” Dawn said. “He snapped at Chloe, which he’s never done before. He knows she doesn’t do well with being yelled at.”

“Well,” Buffy shrugged. “We’re all a little stressed and tense these days. Some days are worse than others, you know?”

“Yeah.” Dawn bit her lip. “He hasn’t touched me.”

“What?”

“The whole ‘not the First’ thing… if he sees me coming, he turns and goes the other way so he doesn’t have to do it with me.”

“Oh,” Buffy said quietly. “Are you sure he’s not just—”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Dawn said, and her voice raised for a second before she remembered to keep it soft again. “He’s avoiding me. He won’t look at me or talk to me, or…”

“He still feels a lot of guilt, Dawn. And you’ve seen how… uncertain he is about things, now. I think he just can’t take the thought of you scorning him, or something.”

Dawn chewed her lip, and eyed him impassively. “He doesn't seem to have that problem with you.”

“Well, that’s ‘cause I kinda elbowed my way through all the barriers until he let me hold him. He never would have come to me on his own. He didn’t, in fact. He stayed in the school basement until I found him and forcibly dragged him out.”

Dawn nodded slowly. “So, you forgave him. For everything he did to you. To us.”

“Yeah, Dawnie. I did.”

“Does that mean I have to?”

Buffy ran her hand over Spike’s hair. “No,” she said softly. “But I think it’s nicer, having him here and being able to talk to him rather than just hating him for things he’s trying to atone for.”

Dawn raised her eyebrows. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

“I know,” Buffy sighed. “I know. I’ve never been this pro-Spike before.”

“Is it because of the soul? Does it really make that big of a difference?”

“I know the soul never mattered to you,” Buffy said quietly. “I know you see Spike the same way with or without one. You once told me you were trying to understand what the big deal about it was, and… I can’t really explain it, because I haven’t actually experienced not having one before. I don’t really know what the difference is.”

“Well, he didn’t come back a totally different person like Angel,” Dawn pointed out.

“Yes, he did,” Buffy said, very softly. “He did. He’s changed on a deep, fundamental level, in ways he probably hasn’t even been able to see or grapple with, yet. This is still new and overwhelming for him, and he was thrust in the middle of a war before he had time to really see what all this meant for him. And it isn’t just that he’s more quiet and sad and careful now… though maybe all of that is here to stay, I have no idea. But every part of him, every cell, every aspect has changed. That’s what I do know about the soul. Even if we never see those changes on the surface.”

Dawn was quiet with that for a while.

“So, what?” she finally asked. “That makes him good enough for you?”

Buffy slowly shook her head. “I wasn’t ready for him before,” she murmured. “That wasn’t his fault. I’m ready for him now.”

“And he happens to have a soul,” Dawn muttered. “Convenient.”

“You don’t have to believe me. And I don’t have all the answers, Dawn. I don’t even know what I feel for him now, or what he feels for me, or if we take the time to get to know this new version of him and both of us will realize we just won’t work together. I don’t know. All I know is I need to get through this war, with all of my people safe and intact, and Spike is one of my people now. And he needs me… he needs me. He needs me to keep him afloat until he has time to figure out who he is. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Dawn was quiet again for a while, before she reached out a hand, and brushed her fingers lightly over Spike’s. “Not the First,” she said quietly.

Then she stood up, and left without another word.

***

Since they weren’t going anywhere and Buffy had no other plans tonight, she let herself slip in and out of dozes again, stroking Spike’s hair and holding him close to her chest until she felt him stir in her arms.

He blinked up at her, looking so innocent and trustful in the moment that she couldn’t help the way her arms squeezed around him. “Hey,” she whispered. She lifted her hand to brush a curl away from his forehead. “Feeling better?”

His hand slowly raised to hers, catching her fingers, and she saw that it was trembling. He raised his head, eyes fixed on hers, and said quietly, “You stayed.”

“Of course I stayed,” she said. “That was the point of this, right?”

He drew in a breath, and swallowed, then closed his eyes again and tucked his head under her chin. 

“Did you sleep okay?” she asked gently. 

“Yes.”

“Do you need some more?”

“‘M all right,” he murmured, but didn’t move away from his position against her neck.

“Okay,” Buffy said easily, and let her hand fall to his head again, smoothing back his mussed up hair. “Just take what you need, Spike. I’ll stay right here with you.”

***

Buffy first started noticing Spike wincing at every touch after only a couple weeks into their new “Not the First” regimen. She brushed it off at first, assuming that he was just wary of everyone, and feeling out of place or worried that someone would shy away from touching him.

But it began to get more frequent, with Spike giving little hisses of pain every time he nudged or was jostled. He didn’t complain, because of course he wouldn’t, and Buffy knew that as much as part of him craved all the fussing she’d been doing over him lately, there was a good part of him still ashamed at how needy he was.

So she kept quiet, and he kept quiet, until Giles took the bulk of the girls out on a retreat into the desert.

All but one girl. Chloe was having a harder time accepting her role as a Potential than most, and while Giles argued that she more than anyone could benefit from the guidance of a Slayer spirit, Buffy offered to let her stay behind, and take a break from all the craziness for a few days.

Apparently she didn’t need a break from Spike though, because as Buffy was descending the steps into the basement, she heard the girl’s frightened voice saying, “It’s been talking to me. And I know it’s the First, because I can’t touch it, but it can do this thing where it just appears to me and no one else, even if other people are in the room.”

“Yeah,” Spike murmured sympathetically. “Had a bit of that, myself. Was in complete isolation at the time, though. Lucky you’ve got a gaggle of girls around you to help drown it out, yeah?”

“It’s saying we’re not gonna win,” Chloe whispered. “That all it’s trying to do is take all of us out. And we’re not even Slayers, and even if we were… Slayers die too, right? That’s why there’s so many Potentials. Because so many of them die…”

“Look, kid,” Spike sighed. “Not gonna say it’s not a grim situation all around, and you’ve been dealt an entirely unfair hand. But, what? You can run out there and be killed, or go home and be killed, or stay here and try to make that thing hurt on the way down. And Buffy… she hates losing. You’d think she was bloody allergic to it. Not gonna let anyone die who doesn’t need to.”

“Why am I even talking to you about this?” Chloe asked desperately. “You’re part of all of this… and you’re like, stupid in love with her, so of course you’re gonna swallow any lies she tells you.”

“She’s not tellin’ any lies,” Spike said softly. “Hasn’t said anything to me. I’ve just watched her, and I know. Worst thing you can do is give up, or take it lying down. If you follow her, if you fight, there’s a chance you’ll make it through. A bloody good one, right?”

Chloe was silent, and Buffy made her way down the rest of the stairs. “Hey,” she said. “Chloe, I think Dawn and Andrew and trying to make dinner if you want to join them.”

Chloe was sitting next to Spike on his cot, knees pulled up to her chest. She shook her head, and said, “I think I just wanna stay here for a while.”

“Okay,” Buffy said softly. She reached out a hand, and touched the girl’s shoulder. “Not the First,” she said gently.

“My aunt died,” Chloe said, face pressed into her knees. “That’s who it appears to me as. When it comes. She was like my best friend and I saw her in her coffin and now she’s talking to me and telling me I’m gonna die.”

Buffy met Spike’s eyes, and he gave a helpless shrug. He scooted to make room for Buffy, chains clanking, and his knee brushed against Chloe’s leg as he did so.

He drew in a sharp breath through his teeth, clenching his eyes shut, and Buffy frowned at him as she squeezed onto the cot.

“Then we’ll fight it,” Buffy said softly. “That’s what we’ll work on next. It’s no good learning fighting and self-defense moves if it just attacks us with words and ghostly faces, right?”

Chloe lifted a frightened face to her. 

“When Giles was my Watcher he was into all kinds of meditation and concentration training,” Buffy said. “And Willow’s been doing a lot of that, too. I bet there’s something we could all work on to either tune it out, or stop it from getting in our heads. It’s not gonna win, Chloe. I promise, okay?”

Chloe’s eyes darted to something behind Buffy, and she whirled around, expecting to see the First standing there about to gloat or something.

But instead Spike was pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, his face screwed up in pain.

“Spike?” Buffy said. “Are you—”

“Ow,” he said softly.

“Ow?”

“Ow,” he hissed, more fervently, and clenched his jaw. “Ow, ow…”

“Spike, what’s going on?”

“The chip,” he gasped. “Been extra sensitive of late, but I thought it was just—”

He gasped, lurching backwards against the wall, writhing in pain as he pressed his hands to his head, and screamed.

Chloe leaped off the cot and stared in horrified fascination.

“Go,” Buffy said, pointing to the steps. “Get Willow.”

Chloe ran, and Spike’s screams subsided, but blood was now leaking out of his nose. He toppled to one side, head hitting the pillow with a soft whimper, and Buffy reached out a hesitant hand to touch his shoulder.

“It fired on its own?” she whispered.

“Guess so,” he mumbled. “God. You know, when I first got it, I learned right quick not to do things that hurt, because even the little zap of warning pain was enough. Never pushed through to let it get this bad, not once.”

His face contorted, and he pressed a hand to his head again, screaming and writhing in obvious agony, and Buffy couldn’t help the sympathetic tears flooding her eyes at his cries.

Willow and Chloe thundered down the stairs a moment later, and Willow blinked in surprise. “What’s going on?”

“His chip is firing on its own,” Buffy yelled above the screams, and then softened her voice when Spike went quiet again. “Do you know anything about his chip? Can you stop it, or…”

Willow gave a hesitant shake of her head. “I remember trying to research it at the time, but the Initiative was pretty tight-lipped about all that stuff.”

Clohe stepped forward, and handed Buffy a warm, damp towel. “Here,” she said. “Um, my aunt… liked having one of these when she had migraines.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said, smiling gently at her, and Chloe responded with the first smile Buffy had ever seen on her.

“I brought the phone, too,” Chloe said. “I don’t know if… you call ambulances for vampires.”

“Not ambulances, no,” Buffy said. “But I do know something I could try.”

“Who you gonna call?” Spike asked, and then closed his eyes. “God, that phrase is never gonna be usable again, is it?”

Chloe giggled, and Buffy shook her head. “Doubt it.”

“What do you need, Buffy?” Willow asked.

Buffy sighed. “I don’t know. Something for the pain? Nothing magic?”

Willow nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Chloe, you wanna help me?”

They went back upstairs, and Buffy sat by Spike, handing him the cloth. 

He immediately pressed it to his bloody nose, blue eyes staring up at her so calmly, like he wasn’t afraid of whatever was happening to him.

Buffy sighed, and punched in the number she’d memorized a long time ago, just in case. She held it up to her ear as she waited, and said, “Don’t worry, there’s gotta be a reason for this. Maybe related to your trigger, or the new soul…”

“Or maybe I wasn’t meant to last this long,” he said, still with that calm, unruffled tone. “One more thing you and I have in common, eh, pet?”

She reached her free hand out to his still-chained one. “Well, we’ll fix it,” she said firmly. “If I get an extended warranty on my life, so do you.”

***

She wasn’t sure her phone call had been successful, but only a couple hours later, a small squadron of soldiers showed up at her front door, ready to repair Spike’s chip… or to remove it.

He was already knocked out from drinking some concoction Willow had given him, and Buffy had instructed everyone to stay out of the basement until the soldiers were gone.

Spike was lying on a makeshift operating table, with soldiers moving around and getting things set up, and Buffy stared and stared, wishing she could ask what he thought, what he wanted…

Because she knew what her answer was. 

“Agent Finn said it was your call, ma’am,” the general told her.

Buffy moved as if in a dream to Spike’s side, reaching out a hand to grab his limp one, and squeezed tight.

She’d never thought it would come to this. That she would be the one giving the order for the very thing that had kept her from staking him for so many years.

But it was nothing more than a muzzle, and it was wrong, and she trusted the soul more than anyone else in her household did, apparently, including Spike himself.

“Take it out,” she said firmly. “I want it gone.”

***

The soldiers moved Spike back to his cot once they were done, and Buffy didn’t hesitate to carry him up to her bedroom, to let him rest and recover someplace more comfortable.

“Will he need his bandages changed?” Chloe asked from the doorway. “Or do vampires not get infections?”

Buffy smiled at her. “What they have is super-healing,” she said. “That bandage will be off in a couple hours.”

Chloe nodded, and Buffy eyed her carefully.

“You handled all of this extremely well today,” Buffy said. “I know you’re scared of the fighting and the death… but the medical problems and Spike’s screams of agony and a dozen soldiers tromping through our house didn’t bother you.”

“My aunt was sick a lot,” Chloe said. “She lived with us for my whole childhood, until she died. I used to help take care of her.”

Buffy nodded, and smiled. “You’ll still have to train,” she said. “Because you could still get Chosen at any moment. But I think we can find a place for you not in direct enemy lines until then, too.”

Chloe’s face lit up, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

***

When Spike stirred next to her on the bed, Buffy carefully set her book down, and turned to run her fingers over his face.

“Not the First,” she said gently.

His eyes looked groggy and disoriented, but they still fixed on her with calm surety. “Did I scream in my sleep at all?” was the first thing he asked.

God, the soul really had such an extreme impact on him. She smiled, and shook her head. “Nope,” she said softly. “My phone call went through. Bunch of soldiers showed up and asked if I wanted to repair or remove your chip.”

Spike drew a breath, and nodded. “Right,” he said softly. “Well, can’t say I’m sorry to have missed them, but I’d feel a lot more bothered if I didn’t know you were there watching that they actually fixed the chip and didn’t put in some other sodding—”

“It’s out, Spike,” Buffy said gently. “They didn’t put anything in. They took it out. You’re free.”

He frowned, and swallowed. His face stayed that way for a long moment, and her fingers kept tracing his face, waiting for him to arrive at his next question.

“Why?” he finally asked.

“Because you don’t need it,” Buffy whispered. “Because it was hurting you. Because I believe you can be good without some stupid government leash. Because a choice had to be made, and that was what I felt was right.”

He blinked, eyes welling up with moisture. “The trigger is still—”

“The trigger wasn’t stopped by the chip before,” Buffy said. “I said we’d fix it, Spike. I wasn’t just talking about this.”

“Oh,” he said, and his voice was broken as he curled on his side, instinctively moving nearer without actually touching her. “Buffy, I don’t… you shouldn’t…”

“Shh,” she murmured, taking him into her arms. “It was time, Spike. It should have been out long before it started breaking down.”

He reached out a trembling hand to grip her arm, and she let him weep silent tears into her chest.

***

“Buffy,” Principal Wood said. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Well, that kind of… came out of nowhere. 

“What?” she asked.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” he was quick to add. “I’m not saying you have to come to dinner if you enjoy having a job.” He laughed a little, and then his face went grave and he added, “I’m gonna have to draw up a little document saying I didn’t just say that and have you sign it.”

“Uh,” Buffy said, and remembered that he was probably evil and she had to find out more about him if he was. “Sure, I guess.”

“Great. I’ll… draw up the paperwork.”

It was a good thing it wasn’t actually a date or anything, and she didn’t have anything remotely close to feelings for him.

Because that whole exchange had Bad News written all over it.

***

Spike had had a long night, with fretting over Buffy’s maybe-a-date, and having to save Xander from his demon girlfriend, and the First plaguing Andrew.

And then he’d stayed up until late morning because she’d needed him. Because she’d sat on the couch and quietly talked to him, soothing his unvoiced fears about her having any interest in some shady principal. She hadn’t wanted to go. She wouldn’t have agreed if she didn’t need to find out more about him. He was the son of a Slayer and might be an asset to their team, even if he was weirded out by all the touching exercises and probably wouldn’t be around much.

And now Spike was exhausted. Everything was so much more exhausting these days, even if it was better than it had been. Even if he felt more sure of himself and his purpose here, even if everyone had more or less accepted him hanging around, and were kinder to him.

And yet his energy disappeared a lot more rapidly than it used to, and his very bones were aching with the weariness of an old, old man.

But just as he’d settled in to sleep, the basement door opened, and Buffy came down the steps.

He tried to sit up to greet her, but none of his limbs cooperated. They’d been all set to lay down and rest, and apparently they weren’t going to be on the clock again until that happened.

“Hi,” Buffy whispered. “Sorry, I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No,” he replied honestly.

“I have to go to work in a few hours,” she said. “And I should probably sleep, but I kind of… don’t want to? And the house is awake now, and I just… thought…” 

She’d started off by talking too fast, babbling nervously, but her voice got slower, like she was losing courage for whatever she wanted to say.

“Thought what?” he asked gently, wishing he had a bloody clue what she’d come down here for, so he could help her say it.

But he didn’t. 

“Can I just… be here with you?” she asked.

He swallowed. “Be here how?” he asked, his voice cracking even though he was whispering.

“Can I hold you?” she asked quietly. “Can I just lay with you, Spike? I know you’re going to sleep, and that’s okay, I just… want to not have to think about anything before I have to leave the house again. If that’s… okay.”

Oh, his sweet, beautiful girl. He could have cried at the rest she craved just as much as he did. Her depression was so much better than it had been, and he knew she wasn’t needing this time in the dark just because it was in the dark.

She just needed a break, and she’d chosen to find it with him, and he found himself nodding like an idiot before he could react any other way.

She timidly stepped towards his cot, and climbed in next to him. It was snug, and creaked loudly at the combined weight of two people, but she didn’t seem to care. She settled on her back, and held out her arms, and he draped himself across her chest, nestling in close.

Her hand fell to his back, and he was dangerously close to purring as she pet him, rubbing her palm up and down like she was claiming him. Or soothing him. Or soothing herself.

“Do you like it?” he asked. “Your work, at the school. Do you… enjoy going?”

She seemed surprised by the question, or maybe that he was talking at all. Stupid, stupid, why did he have to open his bloody mouth? She knew he’d been settling in for a nap and hadn’t expected him to start a bloody conversation with her. And she hadn’t wanted to think about all that stuff, had she?

It was selfish of him, to want to hear her voice as well as feeling her all around him. Greedy bastard that he was, he always had to take more than she offered.

“Yeah,” she said. “I do. I… I always feel weird that I’m not like, actually trained to be a counselor, and I’m just… telling them what I would want to hear in their situations. But I know how hard it is to talk to someone when you need help, and I… I’m glad to be someone the students feel safe talking to.”

“Bet you could be,” he said. “Trained for it, I mean. If it was something you wanted to do all professional-like.”

She laughed, kind of sadly, he thought. “You know I have a job, Spike. And you were the one who said I wasn’t a school girl. No, any actual paying jobs for me are always gonna be the ones any idiot could do.”

His heart screamed with fury to hear her talk about herself like that. He shifted restlessly, wanting to tear out the throats of whatever demons whispered such horrible things in her brain, but she hugged him closer, and murmured, “Shh. Don’t worry about it, Spike.”

His eyes were closed, but he could feel tears forming behind his eyelids anyway. He was so bloody tired, and he wished he wasn’t. He wanted to keep talking, wanted to goad her into believing in herself.

He wanted so much more for her, and he ached to provide it, but he was just so damn tired.

“Why’d you ask?” she said. “If I enjoyed the work?”

“You do so much,” he mumbled thickly. “Didn’t want… you to be forced to go to something you don’t really need, if you didn’t enjoy it.”

“Oh.” She paused, and then said, “But why ask right now?”

He sniffled, struggling to keep the tears back. Ought to tear off his stupid useless nose for signalling his crumbling emotions. “Wanted to hear your voice,” he admitted.

“Like…” Buffy swallowed. “Like, you… want me to keep talking? Even though you’re trying to sleep?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Don’t know why. And you don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “I want you to feel comfortable asking me for what you need. Even if it seems silly.”

He didn’t answer, just nuzzled into her neck, and curled more tightly into her, hating himself every second for doing so, but unable to stop himself from craving her nearness, her affection.

His Buffy. He loved her, he needed her so badly, and as much as he wished he could dig that part out of himself for her sake, right now he was too weak to do so. All he could do was cry out for what he needed, and she, in her mercy, would provide.

“Um,” she said. “Okay, well… I could tell you about the time I drank this cursed beer and turned into a cavewoman.”

He gave a soft laugh. “That why you always claim to not like alcohol?”

“Hey,” she snorted. “I’m trying to help you out here, you’re not allowed to bring up that day you got me drunk.”

“Regret that, you know. Should never have been so irresponsible with you.”

“That day was a really bad one for me, Spike. I… I needed the release.”

“Tell me about the magic beer.”

“Cursed beer. Xander was working at the college pub, and apparently his boss had this whole vendetta against all the arrogant students who would walk in acting like they were all that…”

Spike listened to her story with rapt attention, realizing that the flaw in his plan of falling asleep to her voice was that he could never feel sleepy while listening to her. Drinking in her words, and the lovely lilt of her voice, and the distracting way she’d started playing with the ungelled curls on top of his head.

But even if he wanted to stay awake forever listening to her, he also knew that… this was the only way he wanted to drift off. Listening to her, feeling her. He wouldn’t be leaving her or ignoring her if he succumbed to his weariness, not really. He’d take her with him into dreams, into his heart, and she… she would be his tether to the netherworld, the fantasy region of sleep.

“And my friends say I hit Parker with a big stick… which I wish I could remember… isn’t there a saying about that? To yell loudly and carry a big stick…”

He smiled, letting his mind start to drift until her voice was just a jumble.

“And it’s not that I don’t like alcohol. I like how it tastes, sort of, and I like how it makes me feel… except for the being sick part.” He roused slightly as she moved, rolling him to the side, so his head was on the pillow.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m kinda putting myself to sleep with my own boring story. So I’m just gonna… close my eyes for a little while here, okay?”

“My Buffy,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and clasping his hands, holding them close between their chests. “I’m your Buffy.”

His nose found her hair, breathing her scent in. “Will you wake me… when you come home?”

“If you like.”

“I wanna see you,” he said, tongue feeling thick and slow in his mouth, and he was unsure if the words were happening here or in his mind. “I want…”

“Tell me what you want, Spike,” she whispered, her breath fanning over his face. 

He was drifting, falling, and when awareness of her stole back in, he didn’t know if it had been minutes or seconds since she’d spoken. “You,” he mumbled. “Just want… you.”

There was a pause, and then her arms were around his neck, and his head was pressed to her heart.

“You have me,” she murmured. “I’m here.”