***************************************

They’d ducked into the first empty house he saw; no car in the driveway and the garage holding nothing but trash and a few forgotten boxes. Owners had left, like most everyone else on the block. The collective denial of Sunnydale residents could only last so long.

Spike kicked in the front door, only to find it unlocked. Disappointing. He deposited a cagey but unresisting Nikki on the sofa, then checked the rest of the house. Once it was secure – as secure as a beige suburban split-level could be – he returned to Nikki.

Standing now, she rubbed her fingers together, seemingly fascinated by the sheen of blood on them.

“Ought to get cleaned up. Probably a bathroom nearby …” He took her lightly by the arm and suddenly she was pressed up against him, all against him, breathing warm and vibrant into his startled face.

“Why clean up? Isn’t this your poison?” She lifted her hand to his lips. His mouth opened before he could help himself.

She ran her fingertips along his bottom lip, pleased with the result. “You did the same for me, remember? What’s that they say about turnabout?” A desperate laugh. “My mind’s not what it used to be.”

He licked his lips, tantalized by the blood and her.

“Ever thought about turning a Slayer?”

God, had he.

“That would be something, wouldn’t it? Unprecedented, your Mr. Giles would say. You’d be a king among your kind. Bet you’d love that.”

“When you’re well again,” he said unsteadily, “I’d like to continue this conversation.”

“Would you? I wonder if you’ll even be around, then. It’s lights-out for the good guys, or hadn’t you noticed? Not like you qualify.” She shimmied closer, so that he could feel every sweet-sinful curve of her.

“Pretty soon it’s all going to be gone. Going to be a big sign hung on this place, ‘Under New Management’. And you, my boy – you could really go places.”

“Not your boy,” Spike managed. “That’s Robin. Remember?”

She flinched, and the spell seemed momentarily broken. Swaying slightly on her feet, she stared at him. Spike took the opportunity to guide her none too gently down the hall and into a tiny half-bath decorated with seashells and stained glass.

“Let go. Let go! I can walk, damn it!”

“Got no doubt about that. Just wanting to make sure you go in the right direction.” She jerked around to face him and he studied her. “Back to yourself again?”

She was silent. Spike looked into her eyes – fathomless, unreadable. He sighed. “There you go.” He reached around where she stood next to the sink and turned on the faucet. In response, she shoved him out of the room.

“Not my bloody fault women find me irresistible!” he shouted.

She slammed the door shut behind him.

He wandered the house; keyed up, aroused, more shaken than he’d like to admit. He didn’t know what to make of this; when he’d been the First’s bitch it had been a complete thing, no in-and-out or memory of his actions. Maybe Nikki was stronger than he was (maybe?) or maybe this was due to what Giles had postulated – the weird unintended features of messing with Slayer mojo. And no one had yet explained why she need blood to survive.

He paced for a while, thinking of Buffy and the others. He hadn’t seen Dawn, before they dashed out of there. That was worrisome. He picked up the phone on the end table – the telco hadn’t given up, then. Good. And when he dialed the Summers home Dawn picked up. Good, again. She sniped at him but eventually Buffy got on the line. In short words they exchanged information, agreed to talk again in a few hours. When Spike hung up he felt abruptly alone.

Behind him, Nikki spoke.

***************************************

He looked very human right now, Nikki thought. All fretting and troubled and she wished she were in the mood to savor it.

“I can’t go back,” she said when he turned. “Not tonight. I’m not safe to be around them.”

Spike nodded. “Suppose you’d know better than anyone.” He sat down on the couch, and after a moment she joined him.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

They were beyond prevarication now; whatever her feelings for him she would deal with him straight. He’d earned that much.

“Been feeling – off, ever since this morning. Dreamy, just waiting for something but I couldn’t say what. Until those Bringers appeared and then I knew.” He waited. “It felt so right, all that death. The blood spraying all over the place, all over me. It was ecstasy. It was – well, you know.”

“What happened this morning, Nikki?”

Strange, to hear her name roll off his tongue. She’d always castigated him for using it, but tonight she could find no fault. Not with him, at any rate. She supposed it should rankle, him suddenly the voice of reason while Nikki fought to explain herself.

But she knew it wasn’t like that, not really. Whatever mess she made, he’d scramble to salvage it. And that was the bitter pill to swallow: that he cared for her, and that even after everything she could accept that.

“It came to me. The First did. As my husband.” She exhaled slowly. “Neat trick.”

“Yeah, it’s got a hell of a repertoire.” She lay her head back on the cushions and Spike shifted away, like he did; afraid that his nearness itself was an insult. And it probably was but Nikki was pretty well past that, tonight.

“After he – it – left, that’s when it gets a little fuzzy. I was…a passenger, I think. Along for the ride.”

“But you remember it? All of it?”

Nikki shrugged. “I was there, wasn’t I? Remember every gory detail. Remember having the time of my life.” She paused. “This one, at least.” Beside her, Spike murmured something.

“What was that?”

“Said you didn’t deserve this. None of it.”

She sighed, rose. “Yeah, well. Bad luck seems to be making the rounds these days. You got shafted too, from what I can see. That soul pinches a bit, huh?”

He rose as well, so that they were eye level. “Quite a pair we make.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Quite.”

They stood awkwardly, until Spike gestured. “Cable box upstairs. Mom and Dad’s room, I’m figuring. Feel like a bit of telly?”

***************************************

They spoke of a hundred random things that night, bathed in the glow of the television set. Snapshots of conversation that spanned the gap between living and dead, murder and resurrection.

"Chao-An trusts you. She was practically hugging you at the end there."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm."

"Well, when she turned up at the house I taught myself a bit of Mandarin. Been meaning to for a while."

***************************************

"You ever see the Ramones? Live, I mean."

“…The Ramones.”

“They used to play CBGB, you know. But most of ‘Leave Home’ was recorded at The Roxy in –"

"Are you trying to make small talk?"

" Forget it, then. Was just wondering."

"Fine."

"Fine."

***************************************

"What's the story with you and the kid, anyway?"

"Bloody hell, which one now? If it's that sodding Kennedy again, I swear I'll --"

"You'll what? You’re about as scary as a puppy these days. And lately your bark is worse than your bite.”

"I --!"

"Anyway, I meant Dawn."

A very careful, very civilized pause. "Oh."

"Well?"

"I hurt her sister. She hates me. Simple as that."

"But she didn't always, did she?"

"No. No, she didn't always."

***************************************

"I don't get why they make such a big deal about it -- the whole vampire-with-a-soul garbage. Doesn't make much of a difference to me."

"That’s refreshing."

She propped herself up on one elbow. "What does it feel like?"

He thought. "Once, my ex -- she was a bit off -- had one of the minions bake a pie. 'Cept she had 'em use African rhino beetles as filling. Dunno, she had a vision about crawling armies with the armor of midnight or some such."

"Does this story have an end?"

"She's so pleased with herself and when I get back to our place, she's itching for me to have a slice of this pie. Nice flaky crust -- had to hand it to the minion -- looks like mince to me. Take a huge mouthful and then I see what it is. Downright vile experience, and I've had a few of them. Anyways, that's what the soul feels like, mostly. Rhino beetles settling themselves in my gut."

"How very...poetic." Nikki grimaced.

Spike brightened. "You think?"

“Noble, honest, forthright –"

“All right, now –“

“I bet you help little old ladies cross the street. I bet you have a secret job as one of those Salvation Army Santas.”

“Oi! I’m the Big Bad, I’ll have you know!”

"Kind of cute, when you think about it. Spike and his soul."

"Will you stop?"

"I wonder what it looks like. I think it looks like a little glowing ball, right…here." She poked him sharply between his ribs.

Spike began to protest, then glared at her. "What? Why are you laughing?"

Hand over her mouth, she shook her head as she tried to stifle the giggles.

"What? Tell me, you bloody woman!"

"This little light of mine..." she sang. "I'm gonna let it shine..."

"Shut up!" He sprang from the bed, incensed.

"This little light of mine...I'm gonna let it shine....Every day, every day --" And she kept singing, laughing, even as Spike tackled her and they rolled across the bed. He was smiling too now, playful, in spite of himself.

She made a show of fighting, to please them both. But she lost interest when he looked up at her from where she had him pinned, happy because she was happy. If just for the moment. His hands were around her wrists, but loosely, and for once he didn't seem dogged by the memory of the subway.

Her voice fell to a whisper, and as Spike watched the play of her mouth his eyes darkened.

"Now some say you got to run and hide.
But we say there's no place to hide."

She bit her lip. Spike released her wrists, his hands drifting up until his fingers entwined with hers.

"Don't stop."

Hard to cast her mind back for the words, when he was gazing at her with that peculiar mix of reverence and regret and wonder and...

Wanting.

"Some say the time's not right,
But we say the time's just right.
If there's a dark corner in our land,
You've got to let your little light shine."

His eyes had closed, and when there was silence again he arched his forehead until it met hers. Something glistened, she saw, beneath his lashes.

“Spike…?”

He froze.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, wasn’t thinking –" Panicked movements as he struggled out from under her. He was about to bolt from the bed when she lowered her mouth to his.

Part 14: Love Spreads Her Arms

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