“Buffy Summers, come down to the front of the class.”

Without questioning Professor Walsh, Buffy rose from her seat and went to her. Riley was a few steps away, and he smiled encouragingly at her; she tried to reply in kind, but somehow couldn’t make herself. Just opposite from him, she noticed with some surprise, was Spike. He was leaning against the wall, his eyes following all her movements as she lied on the desk as Professor Walsh requested. When he pushed himself away from the wall and approached her, she could feel her heart beating a little faster with each of his steps. Silent, he held her lightly as he leaned toward her lips, and she let herself melt in the touch of his lips and hands. When her eyes fluttered open again, they were in the mausoleum they had hidden in a few days before when Willow had wished them engaged and in love. Even as she realized that, he smiled sadly at her.

“Did she say love?”

She was about to ask him what he was talking about when she noticed a little girl standing nearby and chanting what sounded like a nursery rhyme. She tried to talk to her, but soon the child had left, leaving only the memory of her words.

She woke up in a shock when Spike’s features morphed into a horrific mask.

It wasn’t that the class was boring, Buffy repeated to herself as Willow teased her about her little class time nap. It was just that she had a lot in her mind. She couldn’t be expected to pay attention all the time, not when so much was happening at once.

First, there was this dream. The chanting little girl, the box, the demon… it had to mean something. She would need to tell Giles about it. She wouldn’t mention the Spike part, though.

Then, there were the commandos, which she had noticed twice since Spike had told the gang everything he knew. Her prey was the same as theirs, demons, but she had felt more than a bit queasy upon hearing Spike’s detailed account; she was almost certain he had edited his tale. What was she supposed to think – or do – about them?

Also, there was Angel. Or rather, there wasn’t Angel anymore. Her trip to Los Angeles had made that clear. They had thrown accusations at each other, she had been shocked to hear that Spike had come all the way to LA to blame Angel about their failed-before-it-started relationship, he had seemed genuinely hurt, but in the end she had come back to Sunnydale with one certitude where before she had been so conflicted. Angel was her past, and despite her previous hesitations, she was ready to move on.

Then, of course, there was Spike. Spike who had claimed he felt nothing for her but had still needed to blame someone for the wrongness of the day after. Spike who lived with Giles, who would barely ever meet her gaze, who avoided talking to her as much as he could. Spike to whom she had been engaged for a few hours and whose stupid, ugly skull ring she still hadn’t returned. Spike who, despite what he clearly wanted them to believe, had seemed more than touched by the experience – but whether it was the soul or the engagement that had affected him most, she wasn’t sure.

The same Spike who would be accompanying her to Revello as soon as night fell.

She still wasn’t sure what to think about the situation. Giles and her mother had conspired behind her back, and she wasn’t so happy about it. She would have liked them to ask her opinion before deciding that Spike would live with her mother for a couple of days while Giles had a guest. She scrunched up her nose at that idea. Thinking about Giles having an intimate friend was just as bad as if it had been her mother. At least it wasn’t the two of them together, that one time had been disturbing enough.

Willow had her Wicca group to attend, and promising herself to study later Buffy decided to go to Giles. She had to tell him about her dream; it might have meant something. Or at least, the chanting little girl might have; the part about Spike kissing her… just a dream. It meant nothing.

Didn’t it?

Lost in her thoughts and memories, she bumped into a wall – or as close to a wall as humanly possible. Riley helped her pick up the notebooks and book she had dropped, his smile oddly reminiscent of her dream.

“I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz.”

His smile brightened a little at her words as he returned her last notebook.

“Nah, you were just daydreaming. At least you weren’t sleeping this time.”

Mortified, she realized he had noticed her little nap during class and desperately searched for an excuse. She could hardly tell him that she had patrolled late, could she? She was grateful when he changed the subject.

“Interesting drawing. I’d never would have thought you were into goth stuff.”

Confused, she wasn’t sure what he was talking about until he pointed to the cover of her notebook. Spike’s skull ring, badly drawn but recognizable, taunted her and she quickly turned the notebook upside down. Doodling certainly wasn’t any better for her sanity than dreaming was.

“I had…” she started, then hesitated. An encouraging smile pushed her to continue. “I had a question about that lecture on dreams the professor gave. Could you maybe…”

“Sure. We’ll have to make it short, but I have a few minutes.”

Wondering if she was making a mistake, she followed him to sit at a table in the foyer. All she needed to hear was that her dreams of kissing a certain vampire meant nothing, but she tried her best to keep her question general and reveal nothing personal. Startlingly enough, Riley seemed to think she was hinting that she had dreamed about him. Even more troubling than that, he assured her that dreams of that intensity certainly showed she had feelings for the other person.

Glowering, Spike crossed the room to the coat rack by the door and grabbed his duster.

“If you haven’t noticed, the sun is still up,” Giles pointed out with impatience.

“And when did that ever stop me?” Spike snapped back. “I don’t need anyone coddling me, not you, not Joyce, and I bloody well don’t need a babysitter.”

The watcher looked up to the ceiling  as he took his glasses off. “Who said anything about babysitting? You asked for a safe place to stay; we’re giving you that. It just happens that this weekend it will be with Joyce rather than me.”

Spike snorted and slipped his coat on. “In other words, I’m inconvenient and you found me a babysitter. Exactly what I was saying. Didn’t even ask my opinion. Well, fuck that.”

Just as he reached for the knob, the door swung open. Startled by the too close sunlight, Spike stepped back, making room for the Slayer to enter.

“Ready to go?” she asked, one questioning eyebrow raised. “You realize the sun’s not down yet, right?”

His anger renewed, Spike turned his glare back to Giles.

“So, not only did you arrange for a babysitter and didn’t tell me anything about it, but you also have a chaperone to get me there? What’s next, a leash?”

“They didn’t ask my opinion either,” the Slayer said coolly, just as Giles exclaimed, “That’s enough!”

Startled, both vampire and Slayer looked at the Watcher, who looked a second away from losing his temper completely, as he pointed an accusing finger at each of them in turn.

“Spike, you asked for our help, and we’re giving it to you. If you have a problem with being given a roof, blood, cigarettes and protection, please, by all means, leave. But don’t expect anything from us after that. Buffy, your mother certainly does not need your permission to have a guest, and the pouting act is getting old. Now both of you take a seat and wait for that bloody sun to get down.”

Pretending not to sulk, Buffy sat down on the sofa and after a few seconds, started telling her Watcher about a dream she had had. Spike hesitated, still annoyed by the way Giles had arranged things behind his back, and even more so by the cold words the other man had given him. What was certainly even more irritating was that Giles was right. After their initial reserve, they had offered him everything he could have hoped for when he had come begging for help.

And that was where things began to grate, he had to admit to himself. He had not expected so much. He had not been ready to accept so much. It was one thing to ask for help, quite another to realize just how much he needed. Now the idea that the woman he loved would accompany him like some sort of invalid so that someone else could see him at his weakest… the last shreds of his dignity were crumbling to dust. All he had left to save was appearances, and they definitely would be crushed if he ran away like a brooding child. Pointedly refusing to look at either of them, he sat down in an armchair across from Buffy and Giles and distractedly listened to them.

Half an hour later, the sun had finally set and his ‘bodyguard’ led him to Revello Drive. He tried to pretend, just to himself, that he wasn’t as defenseless as a kitten next to her; but he was all too aware of the grim reality, so he kept quiet. Hard to seduce a woman when all she saw in you was someone who needed to be protected.

“Spike… I have a request.”

The words surprised him as much as their quiet tone. She hadn’t talked to him like that since before their short-lived affair, with the notable exception of their engagement. And no, he wouldn’t think about that, not now, not ever. What could she want from him?

“My mom doesn’t know about us,” she continued after a second, still looking straight ahead. “I would rather like it to stay that way.”

The blow wasn’t unexpected, and he managed not to show any emotion.

“It’s not like it was anything to brag about,” he commented offhandedly, observing from the corner of his eye to see how she would react. Nothing that he could see and her voice was ice as she replied.

“Which is certainly why you went all the way to LA to tell Angel to his face, huh?”

He missed a step at that, and looked at her sharply. She knew he had told her ex and he wasn’t dust yet?

“Apparently, he had the impression that you were blaming him for what had happened. I really don’t get that, seeing how you claimed not to give a damn. Care to enlighten me?”

For an instant – a very short, very insane instant – Spike considered admitting everything. The lie that he didn’t care about her. The truth of his feelings. Then the meaning of their walk was flung back in his face as her mother’s house appeared in the distance. They weren’t patrolling as they had done so often in the past, two fighters, two equals. They were anything but equals.

Instead, he changed the subject. “I’m surprised you agreed to me staying with your mom.”

And surprised, he added silently, that Joyce had agreed to host him.

She gave him a long look, and he thought that she was going to repeat her question. Instead, she accepted the shift of topic.

“She was rather adamant about having you over,” she shrugged. “Kinda didn’t ask me what I thought of it.”

A pause, oh so short but still meaningful, and then she murmured: “Not that I have any real reasons to worry, do I?”

He looked at her, unsure of what to do with the comment; her face revealed nothing. They had arrived, and she pushed the door open.

“Come in, Spike. And don’t make me regret this.”

Be careful.

I will.

Are you sure

I’ll be fine, Mother.

Joyce looked up from the notepad, eyes twinkling as she gave Spike a mock-stern look. He replied with his most shameless smirk, and she rolled her eyes at him. Pushing himself away from the kitchen island he had been leaning on, he retrieved his duster in the hall and slipped it on, ready to go out; instead of going right away he changed his mind and came back to her.

Lock the door behind me, he wrote. And don’t open it for anyone.

She nodded, and he pocketed the notepad and pen, surprised when she reached for his hand and squeezed it. Again, she mouthed for him to be careful, and this time his smile was softer.

As he stepped outside and took his first few steps, he became intensely aware of what a bad idea it probably was, but he didn’t slow his steps. He was going to find the Slayer and offer whatever help he could – even if it was only a supportive presence.

The previous night, he had itched to go, for his own reassurance, and for Joyce’s. She had been asking him questions all day, wondering if the loss of their voices was caused by something demonic and whether Buffy would be hunting down whatever it was. It still seemed ridiculous to him how little she knew of her daughter’s activities, and he might have said – written – a bit too much. What was he supposed to do, lie to her when she had been so nice with him since his arrival?

At no time during the past two days had she referred to his problem, instead acting as if he were family visiting from out of town rather than an infirm given to her care. She had asked his preference for accommodations, guestroom or slightly safer basement, offered him hot cocoa, chatted about the gallery like they hadn’t done for what felt like an eternity. His fear that he would see nothing but pity from her had been quelled, his fondness for the lady increasing tenfold. Awakening to perfect silence had been strange, but he had lived through stranger things in his time. That was when her worrying had started, and it hadn’t stopped until an hour before when he had announced he would go out and make sure her daughter was safe. She hadn’t commented on the obvious and asked how he planned to do that when he couldn’t fight, but she had been grateful, and for that alone it was worth it to be out and risk bad encounters.

Finding the Slayer wasn’t any more difficult than it usually was. Convincing her to let him tag along was on the other hand surprisingly easy after a brief written exchange.

What are you doing here?

Your mum was worried. Told her I’d watch your back.

Fine. Since you’re here, you might as well stay.

He hadn’t expected her to accept so easily whatever help he could give, but he wasn’t about to complain. They started their hunt and he focused his senses, trying to detect anything unusual around them. It was good to patrol again with his Slayer, even if his role was nothing more than being there. From the quick glances and thin smiles she kept throwing at him, she enjoyed the company too.


It was nice, Buffy reflected as she kept looking for the Gentlemen, to have Spike by her side; it reminded her of the last summer. Nice not to have to talk and fumble for words. Nice to know he cared enough to have come out to help her despite his inability to defend himself. Her suspicions that he saw her as more than a shag were growing even more.

A hand on her arm, a pointed finger, and she nodded. There was their prey. Time for her to fight, and for him to hopefully stay out of harm’s reach.

It was hard to watch her fight and not be able to do a thing to help. No, not hard. It was hell. But I wouldn’t have given my spot away for anything in the world. Would have been nice to know already that I could fight demons and do my part, especially when the wanker showed up. But at least, I was with her.

Yeah, pathetic, I know. What can I say, there must be a bit of the bloody poet left in me, even after all these years, and I blame it all on him.

Full of revelations, that quiet night was. The one where she could actually be decent to me, all we needed was silence. The one where she worried about my safety, which became clear once the fight in the tower started. The one where the Initiative was closer to her than anyone had thought.

Can’t say I was too pleased when I saw the soldier boy fighting alongside her. First, that was my spot; second, I recognized him all too well. One of the commandos I had seen during my captivity. Not one of my tormentors, but it didn’t make much of a difference to me. He was the enemy, whether or not he was currently fighting on the same side as me.

I kept out of his sight. The last thing I wanted was to be taken again before I could warn the Slayer of who exactly was helping her. At some point, I noticed a box amidst the assortment of jars and remembered the dream I had heard the Slayer telling Giles about. I caught her eyes in the middle of her fight, showed her the box, and her reaction was clear enough not to leave a doubt. I crushed the box to splinters. She screamed. The fight was over.

I remained out of sight until she had exchanged a few words with the soldier and he had left. When I came out, she spoke faster than I could.

“Is he one of the commandos who caught you?”

There were so many words she could have used. Captured. Imprisoned. Caged. Neutered. Defanged. Tortured. Caught was one of the most innocuous ones. I told her that he was, and for a second, her gaze seemed to turn murderous; but I quickly convinced myself I had been wrong.

“How about we get back to Revello?” she suggested. “I could use a warm drink, and mom and Dawn will be glad to see we’re fine.”

I was thankful that she didn’t spell out that I needed someone to watch over me and make sure I returned there safely, but surprised at the attention. I really had no clue what was going on in her head. Much later, she admitted that since our short-lived engagement she had been thinking a lot about me, her feelings, us. But at the time, I couldn’t understand why she was suddenly so nice. The only reason I could think of was that she was expressing her pity for what had happened to me. It didn’t help as far as my ego was concerned, and it didn’t make for easy nights.