Facing the Truth

When she reached Spike’s house, she was relieved to see that the blonde vampire had indeed gone home. It was her first chance to see the house since she and Eve had tried to escape. The vampires hadn’t done much damage to the house, thanks to all the time Spike had spent vampire-proofing the house. Other than the thoroughly thrashed condition of the lawn, the only other damage was three broken windows. Buffy could clearly see the light of several candles burning from somewhere in the kitchen.

She let herself in the front door, somewhat surprised to see that Spike had not locked it. He was in the kitchen judging from the light and sounds. Entering the kitchen, her relief for his safety was compounded by worry upon seeing his condition.

Spike was sitting at the table surrounded by the contents of his entire liquor cabinet. His eyes were focusing on the drawings on his refrigerator. He didn’t seem to care that he was naked from the waist up, or that he wasn’t wearing shoes, which was hazardous with all the broken glass on the floor. The shoulders that had been nailed to the wall were still seeping blood. The holy water had badly burned his hands, and he wasn’t making any effort to deal with his wounds. Just seeing his injuries made Buffy’s bruises ache in reminder.

Staring at him, Buffy accepted that the ache of her injuries was not the only one coursing through her veins. More than ever she realized how desperately she wanted him. She wanted him inside of her, part of her, even if he was the exact opposite of what was healthy and good for a Slayer. During the past several weeks, she’d seen the other side of Spike that few had ever dreamed existed. Together they formed a family with Eve, building a bond that connected them in ways she’d never expected. Eve was gone, and she’d think about that later. Spike was here, now.

She took a step forward and gripped his wrist as he reached for another drink. His dark blue eyes flickered up to her face. The air in the semi-dark room grew heavier. “Slayer,” he said in a slow controlled voice. “Let go of me or this unresolved sexual tension thing will be taken care of forever.”

“Then let it,” she whispered, breathing hard.

He jumped from his chair and pulled her toward him, her face inches from his. She could feel the anger and frustration in his frame, and she held herself motionless as is eyes devoured her. “This is not going to happen because I’m vulnerable. I am not going to leave you after on go. This will change everything.”

She stood mesmerized by the glitter in his darkening eyes. He was giving her a warning; he would not treat her like Angel or Parker had. He, the soul-less, would let her step back and walk away, now. It took her less than a second to arrive at her decision. “I don’t care,” she said leaning into him.

That was all the encouragement he needed, hauling her close and fastening his mouth onto hers. She kissed him back with all the pent-up energy and frustration she had. His blood was smearing on her clothes, but both were already beyond noticing. Hands wrestled as hers roamed across his flat chest and muscular back. His hands, seeking entry to her skin, grabbed the edge of her red top. They succeeded to rent a hole in the back, tearing the top into two pieces. Taking in all the warm skin he’d just uncovered, Spike groaned and swung her up into his arms.

“Daddy William,” the voice cheerfully called. “I’m going outside to play.”

Eve had run to the door and begun to open it when he remembered she was a vampire The light streamed in, and he shouted, “No!”

Bathed in the sunlight, Eve smiled as she dissolved into a pile of dust. The dust swirled in the wind, changing into a snow-white dove. The dove chirped and flew off into the light he could never touch.

Spike opened his eyes and expected to hear Eve’s voice waking him as it had for the past month. Instead he found an armful of sleeping Slayer in his bed. Her warm body was curled around him, matching the plains and valleys of his body. Feeling the change in him, her eyes opened, giving him a sated sleepy gaze.

Despite the dream, he grinned down at her. He certainly remembered the previous night’s activities and counted himself lucky that he hadn’t had a chance to get smashed before she found him. It was a night to remember, and, judging by the lovely red flush covering her body, she thought so to.

“Buffy, I can’t think of a more lovely way to wake up,” he said enjoying the sight of her naked form. He wanted to touch her, but he knew that if he did he wouldn’t stop there.

Seeing he was making no motion toward her, a flicker of doubt crossed her face. “Was I good?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“Better than good,” he assured her, mentally cursing Angel and Parker for making her ask that question again. “Anyone who would settle for just one time is out of their bleeding tree. Only a wanker would look at you now and not drag you off someplace.”

“So what’s your problem?” she asked mischievously smiling.

Sensing her spirits had been restored and that she would be accommodating, her ran a finger down her breast, scraping off some of his dried blood. “It’s morning love, and you seem be needing a shower.” He pulled her against him, letting her gasp at the contact.

“As if you don’t,” she pointed out, rubbing one of his nipples with her thumb.

“True, and since the power is still off,” he swung her up into his arms. “Showering together is necessary to conserve water.”

“All in the interests of conserving water, of course,” Buffy commented and moaned as he began to nibble at her neck.

“Course,” he agreed into her skin and carried her to the bathroom.

Two hours and lots of sex later, the power was still out, and Buffy was finally dressed in her thong and one of Spike’s multiple red shirts. Every time she tried to put any more on, Spike would remove all of her clothing, make love to her, and restart the process again. *Make love?* her mind said. *Is that what it was?* Pushing the questions to the back of her mind, she examined her new lover. He looked so edible in a black robe, which she knew had no clothing beneath it. Her hunger for him in that robe was so strong, she had to leave to clean the kitchen or she knew she would never walk out of that bedroom.

Closing all the shades, and lighting several candles, Buffy tried to clean up the glass from the vampire attack. How many hours ago had it been? Twelve? Eighteen? They’d had Eve then, and now she was gone. She caught herself staring at one of Eve’s many drawings on the refrigerator. Swallowing heavily, she tried to hold back a sob. She failed miserably wishing things could have been different.

Spike heard her, entered the kitchen, and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Don’t cry, pet,’ he said softly, kissing her hair. “It’s gonna be all right.” She felt him suddenly tremble and saw he was staring at the pictures too. His eyes filled with blood-red tears. “Bloody Hell,” he moaned, and the tears came crashing down.

Drawing closer, they cried together for a long while. Buffy was the first to recover, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “We’ve got to eat.”

Unwilling to let her go yet, Spike nodded and Spike stepped back a little. Looking down, he saw the Tarot cards strewn among the bottles of alcohol on the table. He almost lost it again, but Buffy grabbed up the cards and moved them out of sight into one of the empty cupboards. Steeling herself to the grief, she went to the refrigerator, retrieving the blood and milk.

Following her lead, Spike exchanged the various spirits for breakfast dishes as she found the cereal, Count Chocula. They sat down eating their respective breakfasts in silence.

Unable to remain silent any longer, Spike said, “Don’t tell anyone, Slayer.”

She wrinkled her nose at his return to her working name. “What? That there’s a big ole softy underneath the bad-ass vampire?”

He favored her a fangy grin, “That and us being a couple now.”

“A couple of whats? Is that what we are? A couple? Do you call all your girlfriends by titles usually used by people planning to kill them, or is it just me?”

“Yes, we’re a couple. Or at least I want us to be. And Slayer . . .er, Buffy, the second I call you by name in front of the Scooby gang, the game’s up.”

“Ohh, more secret identity. I get the picture. In the Slayer in public and Buffy in private. So who are you? Spike in public, and who in private?” She thought for a second. “Daddy William?” she suggested and instantly regretted it when she saw the pain flash across his face. “Never mind. Spike’s good.”

“Feel free to call on me in private as often as possible,” he purred, setting his hand on hers.

They laced their fingers together and gazed at each other for a few seconds. Before it became too intense, Buffy dropped her head to examine her cereal, “Why do you have this kind? It’s the only cereal in the house, and you have ten boxes of it. I know you didn’t buy it all for Eve.”

He avoided her eyes, and she took action. She stood, wrapping her arms around he neck, licking his earlobe. Still not getting a response, she bit down hard on his neck. Unable to resist any longer, he said, “Okay, already. I like the count. Okay?” She started laughing hysterically causing him to growl, “What’s wrong with that?”

She responded with more laughter, “You . . .cereal . . .count-” That was all she was able to choke out.

“It tastes good with the blood, too,” he said irritably. He was having difficulty staying miffed, her being so happy, sexy, and warm looking. Leaving rational thought behind, again, he grabbed the giggling girl and kissed her until laughter was the last thing on her mind.

Much later she awoke in an empty bed. Buffy reached out a searching hand and was surprised to find herself quite alone. A wave of terror swept over her. Had he turned her down in disgust like Angel and Parker had? Was this her third failed one night stand?

*Stop it,* she scolded herself. He doesn’t have a soul to lose like Angel did. And unlike Parker, Spike promised that today would change everything. It was Commitment with a capital ‘c.’ Spike was there for the long term, which, him being an immortal vampire, could mean the real century-type long term.

So if they wee a couple, and everything was all good, where was he? Dressing hastily, she scanned the dim candle-lit room. No one else in the bedroom. She walked to the living room; no one there either. Moving into the kitchen she immediately noticed something was missing. Pausing she tried to pinpoint exactly what it was.

The pictures. All of the pictures on the refrigerator were gone. Not a single drawing of Eve’s or Spike’s was still stuck up with duct tape. On an impulse, she opened the cupboard she’d put the tarot cards in that morning. The cards had disappeared too. She ran into the guest bedroom and despaired at the sight. The bed was perfectly made with new sheets, and all of Eve’s clothes were missing.

Panic began to set in. Where could Spike have possibly went with all that stuff? At that point it occurred to her to check the time. Peeking out a shade, she saw that full dark had set in. Spike must have left the house. Her mind began to race across places he might have gone when she caught a glimpse of a light in the backyard. He had to be back there. She ran out the back door and stopped short.

Spike was in his hedge-enclosed back yard. In fact he had built a little campfire using bricks from his walk as a fire circle and stakes as kindling. Everything Eve had used, pictures and clothes, was spread out on the ground. Oddly enough, Miss Edith was there, and he was in the process of tying her to a stake.

Sensing her presence, he spoke out loud in a far off tone, “I never liked this doll.”

Buffy stood beside him, and he ignored her, reaching for one of the pictures. He chose the one with the crosses and circles on it. “This one. It had everything on it. But I couldn’t see it.” He threw the picture into the fire, watching it combust.

Next he picked up the tarot cards “You had all the answers!” he yelled at the cards. “We could have saved her!” Violently, he tossed all the cards into the flames. They disappeared in a flash of light.

“Spike,” Buffy said carefully setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t you see?” He screamed at her, his eyes full of bloody tears. “I was the Tool the Voice broke on! I was supposed to save her! She wasn’t supposed to die!” He collapsed onto his knees, “I should have saved her. It was my duty. ‘Good done by evil hands.’”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Buffy said, crouching next to him.

“Yes, it was,” he hissed pushing her away. He grabbed madly at the nearest group of pictures and paused. It was Eve’s rendition of Buffy and himself. The lopsided picture of himself grinned at him sideways, and Buffy’s picture stared at him, it’s perfect face watching him earnestly. He turned to the real Buffy, and saw the identical expression on her face.

“We can’t bring her back,” Buffy said softly, her own grief rising up in her throat. She placed a gentle hand on his wrist, taking the pictures from him. “Don’t take all we have left too.” Her thoughts went back to Eve. Her innocence, her love, her joy, and the senselessness of her death. A tear slid down her cheek, but she knew Eve was gone for good. She embraced Spike, and they wept together unashamedly, joined by their shared grief. No longer a vampire and a slayer, but grieving parents.

When they finally had control of themselves, Spike stepped back and said, “I’m still going to burn the bitch.” His hand snagged Miss Edith by the hair. “I promised Dru I would do this. That’s even the stake I used, the one that got Eve. Kinda appropriate that she’ll burn on it like the witch she was.” Buffy knew he wasn’t referring to the doll only. He tossed the doll into the fire with all his strength.

Miss Edith resisted the flames for a long time somehow. Eventually she did catch on fire, and she shook in her bounds. After a long time, the fire engulfed her, dissolving into a pile of ash. Its energy spent, and not getting feed anymore fuel, the fire began to die out.

As the last ember faded, Buffy linked her fingers with Spike’s, “I think Eve would be happy.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

Spike glanced at her in confusion, “How so?”

“Her mommy and daddy are together at last. I think she’d be happy.”

“You really think so? I wonder if she knew about us?”

“Of course she did. She could see the future,” Buffy said. They had begun to head back indoors when Spike stopped.

“Hold here. Do you see that?” Spike turned back to the fire.

“See what?” Buffy asked, trailing after him.

“I’ll be damned,” he said reaching a hand into the ashes. He pulled out a small gold cross on a chain. “Dru put it on Miss Edith.”

“Eve’s cross!” Buffy exclaimed, remembering it as the one Spike had given Eve the night he found her.

“I wonder if it’s a sign,” Spike commented.

Buffy shot him a sharp look, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. Handling it carefully, he fastened the cross around Buffy’s neck. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Maybe it’s the future. What I wouldn’t give to know.” Spike curled his arm around her shoulder, avoiding the cross. They stood in silence, arm in arm, watching the starry night pass by.

“No!” he yelled, reaching for her. He screamed when he touched the burning sunlight. The bird rose from the dust, chirped, and flew off.

Spike sat up in bed. *A dream, again.* However, his hand still hurt. He examined it and saw the perfect imprint of a small cross burned into his palm. Looking down at Buffy, he saw she was slumbering peacefully. They hadn’t made love after the fire. Sleeping in each other’s arms was the remedy they’d needed for their grief. He must have touched her cross in his sleep.

Moving carefully, as not to wake her, Spike crawled out of bed, his senses alerting him to the fact that it was morning. So he couldn’t go outside. Well, that tore it because he was feeling especially restless this morning. He turned on a light to see if the power was back on. Nope. He stood by the guest bedroom and thought about Eve. She wasn’t there, and it hurt. He’d never see her little smile or her angelic face. Never could her little voice call to him in joy or fear.

Spike closed the door and locked it. He couldn’t stand to look in there anymore. If he didn’t do something soon, he’d go mad from this. Taking several candles, he climbed the stairs to the second story.

Buffy stretched in bed, noticing again that she was alone. It didn’t bother her this time because she heard noises from the upstairs, which meant he hadn’t stepped outside for a fatal suntan. Also that meant it had to be well into the morning. Fingering her new cross necklace, Buffy searched the various clothes on the floor and located her watch. It was about ten o’clock. She thought for a second and concluded that it was Sunday. It had been to days since Eve had, well, died.

It had also been two days since she had been to the dorm or her house. That probably signaled she had better go visit her friends and family in person, or they’d be sure she was dead somewhere. A phone call would not cut it. The power must have still been out, or Spike would have definitely turned on some lights.

Climbing the stairs herself, Buffy entered Spike’s main work-out room. It was a nice spacious room, its floor padded by some type of green mats. There were various implements of destruction and training scattered about, including (but not limited to) crosses, swords, knives, punching bags, stakes, and kerosene. The room was cast in an eerie glow from the six or seven candles situated at the edges of the room. Spike was at the center, full vamped out in the clothes he’d slept in, pummeling a dummy for all he was worth.

She winced as his foot connected in a particularly punishing spin kick that caught the dummy’s head. The head snapped off, landing neatly at Buffy’s feet.

Her applause shocked him into his human face. “That beats rats with the morning paper any day. Nice to see you still have it. Where did you learn that kick?”

“This ole thing,” he demonstrated it with graceful and deadly efficiency. “It’s called muay thai kickboxing. I don’t practice that tai chi crap Peaches is always harping. My teacher though I was a bloody fine student.”

“You had a teacher? I thought most humans who crossed you didn’t survive for a second meeting,” Buffy said in disbelief.

“He was a really old guy. Thought he was an easy mark. Found out different,” he grimaced. “So in exchange for not feeding him to my minions, he trained me.”

“Must have done a good job.” She hesitated, “Did you keep your promise?”

“What, not feeding him to my minions?” Spike gave her his most evil vampire smirk, “I ate him myself.”

“Oh,” Buffy searched for something to say. “I guess that settles any question of you having grown a soul overnight.”

“Personally, that whole soul-having thing is overrated. I can still kill people you know.”

“You can what?” Buffy exclaimed.

“I’m not saying I have. Just that I can,” he said in exasperation.

“How can you? I thought the Initiative stopped that.”

“There are a few ways to get around that can’t hurt humans thing. Doesn’t mean I did them.”

“Like how?” her voice was very cold.

“Like accidents. Hit one with a car. Jump off a building and land on one. Stuff like that. Let’s not forget things like bombs and other long distance stuff. I know this great guy who can make this awesome telephone fire bombs.”

“I can’t believe you can say anything like that,” Buffy said with clenched fists.

“Look, Slayer, I could just have people killed, even if I couldn’t personally do the deed. I have like what, a million minions who could have done in gobs of meals. I could have summoned some demons or something summarily nasty for the destructive hell of it.” He stood face to face with her, “Point is, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t need to. Keeps you from staking me. I like it here. Got over the suicide. I can stake and torture all the vampires and demons I’ll ever need. ‘Sides,” his blue eyes practically glowed. “I have me own little slayer.” His head came down on hers.

Breaking the kiss, she stripped off her outer sweater. “Okay, let’s play. You just told me you’re still all vampire, even with the head thing. Let’s go.” She raised her fists in a classic guard position.

“Wait, Slayer. You know I can’t hit back.”

“Duh, but you can still block and stuff. I haven’t had any real competition lately, Mushroom man not included. Besides, I can’t beat on you all I want without giving you any serious damage.”

Spike assumed his own guard position. “Fine pet, but if I get through your defenses and score a kill, you spend tonight here.”

“Deal,” she said, and her shoulders relaxed a tiny bit. That was the second Spike lunged and planted a kiss on her bare neck.

“Dead already,” he wasn’t grinning at her shocked expression. “If I had been really going to drain you, you’d be dead. Take this seriously.”

Her response was a right cross to the chin. She began to attack him in earnest, not holding anything back. Thrust, block, punch, parry, their battle ranged across the room. Buffy attacking, and Spike blocking everything she threw at him. It was a beautiful dance of flips, punches, and swipes on Buffy’s part set against the rolls, ducks, and leaps of Spike. He dodged one of her roundhouse kicks and tried for her neck again. This time she was ready, grabbing him in a converted judo throw, hoisting him over her head and letting his momentum carry him into the wall.

He rose to his feet beaming recklessly with his game face on. Spike beckoned her to bring it on. She complied handspringing over his head, and pounding on him with flurry of short palm strikes and jab kicks aimed at his torso. One of his arms snaked out and caught her left fist. Buffy swallowed hard, knowing she would pay for the mistake she’d just made. His body turned away from hers, allowing her to relax for a second, before his left leg collided with her face in that devastatingly perfect spin kick he’d been practicing earlier.

It was her turn to crash into the wall. Clearing the stars from her head, she realized had used his full strength behind that kick. That also meant that he had probably just gotten it form the implant in his head. As a matter of fact, he was suffering, curled up on the floor and clutching his head.

Grimacing with distaste, Buffy wiped the blood off her mouth. “Why did you do that?” she demanded crossly at the cowering vampire. “You knew that would hurt.”

He raised his head gingerly, “Had to see if I still had it. I did. Anyway, thanks to your mistake at the start, I already got you for another night.” He stood up carefully.

“I admit defeat, for now.” She agreed, letting him take her in his arms.

“Good.” Spike gave her a gentle kiss, cleaning the blood off her mouth. His arms tightened, and she pressed herself closer to him.

She stopped remembering what she’d come up to tell him. He gave her an irritated glance. “What now?”

“I needed to tell you I was going out.” She stopped his protests with a kiss. “I’m coming back, but I need to let the gang, and my mom, especially her, know that I’m still among the living.”

“As opposed to screwing the undead, luv?” he asked.

“That too. Will you be okay?” Buffy hesitantly inquired. His behavior over the past few days was strange, even for him. He was supposed to be the demon, so he shouldn’t have been grieving for Eve the way he was. Actually, Spike seemed to be taking Eve’s death harder than she was.

“Worried I’ll go all Angelus or something if you let me out of your sight?” he said blithely.

“No, worried about the Giles avenging Jenny’s death something. No concept of your own mortality and all.”

“Pet, I’m immortal,” Spike pointed out.

“Darn, forgot about that for a minute.” She snapped her fingers, “Forgot I was dating the most calm, level-headed undead demon on the block.”

Spike chuckled, “I got the point, Buffy.”

“Good. Like a stake through the heart, I hope.” Amid his groans, they shared a deep passionate kiss. Before it overwhelmed her, and she gave into what his hands were doing under her shirt, she tore herself away. “I’ve really got to go.”

Finding the gang was the easiest part of her day. Willow, Giles, Xander, and Anya were all at the Watcher’s house. They were worried, but not too much since when things had become to had for her to deal with before, Buffy tended to disappear. Like the time she’d died at the Master’s hands, or the time she sent Angel to Hell.

She gave them a short update on her status. Yes, she was moving back into her dorm room. Yes, Spike was fine with this (so she stretched the truth on that one). No, she wasn’t going to disappear for a few months.

It was Giles who asked the fateful question. “Are you okay, I mean, about Eve?”

Buffy’s mind flooded with images of Eve. She started to cry, seeing Eve’s face in her head. It was so hard to know that Eve was dead. Permanently, as in expelled from school permanent. Eve had been kicked out of life.

Willow came to her rescue. “Buffy and I are going outside now.” The rest of the group sat in uncomfortable silence after Willow drug the weeping Buffy to the porch. They sat on the swing, Willow holding Buffy’s hand and patting her hair over and over again, whispering, “It’s okay. It will all be all right.”

“No, it’s not. It hurts so much.” Buffy wailed, “I hate knowing she’s gone. I can forget it for a little bit. You know, pretend she’s at the house or something. Then I remember, and it all comes back.”

“Buffy, that’s the way if is. It shows you’re a normal person.” Willow stopped herself, “Well, maybe not a normal human, you being the Slayer, so that makes you superhuman, but the grief thing is normal and it’s supposed to happen.”

Willow’s best friend eyed her carefully, “You sound just like out Psych book.”

“I do? I should since I read the whole section on grief after Oz left.”

“I’m sorry I’m dumping all this on you. I thought I was doing so well. You should see Spike-” Buffy shut her mouth quickly.

“Spike!?” Willow’s shock showed through. “He’s grieving?”

How could she tell Willow without revealing too much, “Yeah. Alot worse than me. He kinda feels that he failed to protect Eve. And he seems to miss her.”

“So vampires can actually grieve. I thought they couldn’t feel grief either,” Willow said. “Wow, this puts Spike in a whole new light. Well, at least anything but sunlight.”

“Shh. He’d kill me if he knew I told anyone. Not literally, but you get the idea.”

“I got ya. A vampire secret. What are you doing tonight?” Willow asked, changing the subject.

Buffy hesitated a little bit. She wanted to tell the truth without lying too much. “I’m still gonna be at Spike’s. I am worried about him. He needs the distraction, and I’m afraid if I’m not there, he’ll do something incredibly stupid.”

It was Willow’s turn to hesitate. “How long are you going to stay there?”

“As long as it takes for the power to come back on. Once it’s on, he can distract himself with soccer and soap operas. I can go back to class without feeling guilty that two of my allies are dead within a three day period.”

“You sure?” Willow asked slowly. “Since when do you worry about Spike?”

A look of pain swept across Buffy’s face, “Eve loved him. Did you know that? He was everything to her. I’d feel so awful if I let something happen to him when I know I could stop it.”

Willow nodded, “I guess I see. So this is all because of Eve?”

“Yeah,” Buffy answered, glad she didn’t have to stretch the truth too far on that one. Without Eve, none of her and Spike would have happened. Then again, considering those kisses in the bathtub, maybe it would have. “Do me favor though. Don’t tell them,” she indicated Giles’s house. “I don’t think they would understand my view on this.”

“Have no fear. I am your private dumping ground for problems. Did I tell you that classes for tomorrow are already canceled? Even if the power comes on right now.”

Buffy smiled, “Now that’s good news. What do I tell my mom, though?”

Telling Mom was easier. Joyce just accepted her vague references to her slaying duties. Mom had learned by now that the less she knew about Buffy’s work, the better she felt. Buffy did mention Spike, only in the general sense of his existence as a member of the Scooby gang. Her mother didn’t even blink at this. The only comment was something about it being too bad that the poor heart-broken boy was a vampire. Mom had patted her on the head, gave her some cocoa and marshmallows, and told her to give them to Spike if she saw him.

Out of habit more than need, Buffy took the long confusing way to Spike’s house. It involved multiple turns and double-backs, so it was late afternoon by the time she reached the house. She calmly knocked on the door and waited for him to let her in.

Two strong arms reached out and pulled her inside. Her mouth was captured in a hard kiss which she returned with equal fervor, matching each stroke of his tongue with one of her own. Hands tore at clothes in a frenzy of need. Buffy dropped the bag her mother had given her on the floor when Spike carried her to the couch.

Tossing her on the leather, Spike sniffed the air, “Buffy, what did you put in that bag?”

“Mom’s hot cocoa,’ she groaned in disappointment as he walked away.

“That shifty Joyce. She knows I love this stuff,” he picked up the bag.

“So I gathered,” Buffy said dryly, admitting the mood was broken.

Spike took out the container and smelled it, “Now this I wish we’d let Eve have. Grandma Joyce’s cocoa.” Spike went silent, staring at the can in his hand.

Buffy came over to him, putting her arm around him, “Spike, I know it hurts.” Her eye caught the wall over the computer. “When did you do that?”

Hanging neatly framed on the wall were two of Eve’s pictures. The ones of Buffy and Spike in fact. While she was gone, he must have taken the drawings and framed them. It was set up like a scene from any normal family photo.

“Do you know what, Slayer? I wish we’d just taken a picture of her. So I could remember her face. I don’t want to forget her.”

“So you framed those.”

“It made me feel better. Your Psych book even recommended it,” Spike snapped at her.

“Willow read the same chapter. I am so out of the loop. You did a good job. It was a good thing to do.”

“I though so,” he said immodestly. “Kinda makes me feel closer to her. Still wish she could have tried the cocoa.”

“Will it make you happy if we make some now?”

“Sure, ducks,” he said perking up.

Before she headed to the kitchen, she stopped. “I forgot. No hot water.”

“Well that about tears it.,” he flung his arms out in frustration.

“I know you’re disappointed. Can I try to make if better?” She caught him in a kiss that got hotter and deeper with every second. She drew back. “I’m sure you learned something we could try with this cocoa over the past century,” Buffy wiggled suggestively at his brightening eyes.

Not bothering to answer, he pulled her into the bedroom. He did, in fact, have several ideas about what to do with the hot chocolate mix, involving licking every inch of her chocolate powdered skin. By the time they finished with their ‘meal,’ they need another shower together, and so it continued into the night.

“Daddy William,” Eve called out in a cheerful voice. “I’m going outside to play.”

Remembering his previously futile efforts, Spike called to her, “Eve, wait!”

She paused by the door, “Daddy William, you know you can’t stop it.”

“I know pet, but I wish I could. You were my baby,” he said in desperation born of pain.

“No, Daddy William. I always belonged to the Powers. They let me stay for a little while. It was all part of Their plan,” she said sweetly.

“You’re saying this was supposed to happen?”

“Yes. There was nothing you could have done. It’s the way it had to be. I was never really yours.”

He tried to absorb her words, “You were never mine?”

“I was always Theirs. They are my mommy and daddy. They sent me, and They took me back. I have to go and play now,” she said hopefully.

“Can I give you a kiss before you go?”

“Yes, Daddy William.” She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Eve,” he said with great difficulty.

Eve smoothed the hair on his forehead, sounding adult again and beginning to shine brilliantly with an inner light, “I know you do. They have picked you. The road ahead of you is very long and hard. Take care of the Slayer. She picked you too.” She turned away, her light dimming slightly. “A time is coming of such dark that it will destroy the world. It will take your combined powers to save it.”

He shook his head violently, “No. I’m just a demon in a stolen body. I am the darkness.”

At his words Eve stepped back, her light expanding to blinding proportions. “Evil done by good hands is still evil, and good done by evil hands is still good.” The light grew and grew, forcing him to cover his face with his hands. There was a tremendous flash of light, and he could hear Eve say, “Bye, now. Say bye to Mommy Buffy too.”

The light disappeared, and where she had been was that white dove. It chirped at him and flew away. He stood in silence, mentally repeating her often repeated prophecy, “Good done by evil hands-”

Spike woke up. For once he was not desperate in guilt or grief. His dream, if that was what it was, had relieved him of some of the pain. Perhaps he would never think about Eve without feeling the hurt, but it would no longer cripple him. Still, there was something he had to do.

Kissing Buffy gently on the mouth, he dressed in his robe and went to the living room. He entered Eve’s room, collecting her art supplies. Then he lit several candles and sat facing the framed drawings on the wall.

Closing his eyes, he said quietly to no one in particular, “Well, Eve, here goes nothing.” He chose a crayon and began to draw.

He could see her clearly in his mind’s eye. She was smiling; her dimples showing like they had when he told her a story. He could see her bright green eyes just bubbling with life. Those unruly black curls tumbled around her face, catching the essence of an angel. His hands remembered the softness of her young skin and the freckles that had peppered her nose. Reaching out with his mind, he could envision the aura she had unconsciously radiated. That haunting mix of innocence, experience, and unworldliness that drew him like a moth flying toward the moon it could never reach.

Spike opened his eyes, aware of Buffy beside him. He stared at his handiwork. It was Eve, a perfect likeness pulled from his memories and emotions to be placed on the paper. Buffy place a hand on his.

“Now we have a picture of her to go with ours,” she said in an awed tone.

“Yes,” he agreed, brushing a hand across the picture. Almost touching her. “‘The road ahead is long and hard.’”

“What was that?” Buffy asked in confusion.

“Nothing. Just a dream,” he thought for a second. “Or not. Eve said to tell you good-bye too.” He set her on his lap, holding the picture in front of them.

“I read someplace that when God closes a door, he opens a window,” Buffy said, gazing at the picture.

“Maybe,” Spike agreed. “I know something new is beginning.” He leaned his forehead on hers, delivering a soft kiss to her lips. The power chose that moment to come back on.

He blinked away the light. Buffy smiled at him with an equally bright smile. “Breakfast. After I eat the Count, we’ll hang up your new picture.” She laughed, and hopped off his lap.

Still holding her hand, Spike allowed himself to laugh too. Losing Eve hurt alot, but he had to move on. He had the Slayer and, whatever the Powers That Be threw at them, they would be finally facing it together. He gave the picture one last long look before setting it down, and following Buffy into the kitchen.

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