Pulling his duster back from his legs, the vampire's eyes caught the Slayer's. "To save someone's life." He replied, never breaking pace, his feet pounding solidly on the dust-strewn ground.

Or at least, that's what he had planned.

Even arriving two minutes earlier than they had before, they were still too late and Spike - tired of running - decided that he really should look after the Slayer as best he could, for the first time in several days.

And still, he didn't feel any better when he crawled back to his crypt, just before the dawn. If tomorrow never came and he was stuck in this day again, he decided that he would try and resolve things, try and get them sorted out, so he could have a night peace for once.

Try.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Morning, Anya."

"It was, last time I looked at my watch." Confused, the former demon looked at the vampire who stood in front of her, looking unusually calm. "Who are you and what have you done with the normal Spike?"

Spike chuckled. "I'm me, Anya." He reassured her. "I'm just going through a calm day. I did the completely loony yesterday and suicidal the day before. I thought everyone else deserved a break from my usual charming self...but don't worry, I'm still evil and everything..."

"Oh, I'd never doubt it." Nodding, humouring him, she smiled. While he was in a good mood, she may as well take advantage of him...

"Before you ask, luv," Switching the television off, he lit a cigarette and blew a light stream of smoke from his nostrils. "I'd say wear the dark red one. If the wanker has any kind of taste, he'll be slobbering all over you all night."

The girl's eyes darkened thoughtfully. "And that's good?"

"Definitely." He nodded. "Bloody hell, it even made me want to shag you senseless, so that qualifies as a shaggadelic dress and damn it to hell! I knew I shouldn't have watched Austin Powers again."

Anya's face lit up. Throwing her arms around the vampire, she hugged him tightly, startling him. "Thank you!" She squealed, pulling her rucksack up her shoulders and racing out of the crypt, not even stopping to think about asking how he knew.

Retrieving his 'Passions' mug from the top of the sarcophagi, he finished the trickle of blood inside it and deposited it carefully on the floor.

Now, he had to go and do some serious talking with a certain important person in his unlife, to see if she would agree that he was completely and one hundred percent ready to go to the nearest funny farm.

***

"This is crazy. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I know." Staring down at his hands, he sighed. "I try and tell myself that craziness like this isn't like what me and Dru had. But I've been around the whole Scooby gang for a year and a half now...I can't help it..."

The woman looked from her bedspread to the vampire before her. "When she was involved with Angel, I told him that I thought a relationship like that was..." She searched for the words. "Wrong. He was so old and she was..."

"Just starting out." He nodded in agreement. "Another part of the craziness, but it's not just that, Joyce. It's everything." His hand moved distractedly on the plush surface of her covers. "I can see what every relationship did to her. Angel...he broke her heart and she understood. Parker...he just wanted to hurt her." Grimacing, he turned his thoughts to the commando. "I hated Soldier Boy and not just for Initiative reasons. For once she looked like she had someone kind of normal and reliable...but we were all wrong, weren't we?"

Looking up at the Slayer's mother, he smiled sadly. "I only thought I would ever love one person, then I arrive in this pathetic little town and meet someone who wasn't afraid to face me. A Slayer with the wrinklies to match the attitude...someone who could whip my arse into shape if she wanted..."

Joyce squeezed his hand gently.

"I hated her for what she did to me and Dru. Blamed her. Didn't want her to see what she meant to me. Didn't want to let her know how bloody jealous I was of every one of those damned chums of hers."

"When did it change?"

Flopping on his back, across her feet, he blew out a sigh. Staring at the ceiling, he frowned thoughtfully. "Don't know when I started feeling that way, but I always admired her. She had guts, spunk and she was a bloody good fighter...what did it matter if she was lacking in the brains department?"

"That's my daughter you're insulting." Joyce chastised gently. Despite the absence of a soul in the demon before her, she could see the turmoil he was in over his feelings. It felt like she was just talking to a confused teenager, not a vampire.

Spike grinned wryly. "I know." Shaking his head, he turned to look at her. "The worst thing about sticking around this dump is that I've had to see everything she's been through. I know that you got the basic stuff, but being in the middle, seeing the hell she goes through...when she loves people, she does it so intensely that to lose them...it would nearly kill her, but she still goes on, for the others..."

In the hall, outside Joyce's room, a small, unnoticed figure sat on the floor, silently listening in on the conversation going on in the bedroom.

"There are nights when she's fought so bloody hard, I wish that she would just take a holiday or something. God knows, she deserves one after all the crap she's gone through...it's on nights like that I wish I could be the one to be waiting for her when she got in, to hug her and tell her that tomorrow, everything'll be better...she needs someone..."

The Slayer's mother made a small sound of agreement. "But this is Sunnydale...what are the chances of finding someone normal? Her best friend is a witch, she dated a vampire, then a fighter from a demon hunting unit...aren't there any boring, all-American idiots anymore?"

"If I could find one I trusted enough to take care of her," Spike sighed wistfully. "I would pay him to do it. If I can't take care of her and treat her like she deserves, I want someone else to do it. Superpowers not withstanding, she's still human."

A silence fell between the two, a soft whisper of wind moving through the room. Finally, Joyce spoke again. "You would find someone else for her to love, even if it meant you had to give her up, just so she could have some happiness? You'd be alone..."

"And I would be in exactly the same state as I'm in now." The sad smile returned to his lips. "I know there's not even the slightest chance that the Slayer would be interested in me. The whole Soulless demon thing is a no-go area, I s'pose."

He paused, sitting up. "You know," He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "This chip...if I ever got rid of it, I wouldn't kill her. I probably couldn't anyway, but now, I wouldn't even try. The World needs a Slayer like her."

"And you do too?"

He nodded. "I won't deny it, I love having arguments with her, having her kick my arse from here to next Tuesday, having her even paying any kind of attention to me...but the number of times this world would have gone under without her...its unbelievable."

Joyce smiled. "She didn't do it all alone." She reminded him fondly, proud of her daughter, proud of her daughter's friends. "And even you have helped her a lot."

"The Scoobies are a good bunch." He agreed half-heartedly. "But don't tell anyone I said that...and you know I'll be around the help her with that as long as she doesn't stake me, but I just wish that she had someone, a proper 'someone' to share it with. Everyone needs it. For those times when friends just aren't enough."

Laughing fondly, Buffy's mother patted the peroxide vampire on the knee. "So you did actually learn something in a hundred and twenty seven years?"

"Actually," Sheepishly grinning at her, the vampire couldn't help but laugh. "I learnt that from those bloody mates of hers."

"Well," Joyce agreed diplomatically, "At least you learned something and have the good grace to think and use it."

Spike flashed a wicked grin. "Don't you let that get round, okay? it's bad enough that I'm in love with the bleedin' Slayer. I don't want word spreading that I actually think about what I've learned on odd occasions. It would shatter what remains of my bad-ass reputation."

"Your dark secrets are completely safe with me." The vampire looked distinctly relieved and reached over to give her a peck on the cheek.

"You're a star, Joyce." He stated firmly. "A pure star." She blushed prettily, and swatted him away, amused. "You look after yourself, okay, luv? I have something I need to do...send the Slayer to Lockston in about twenty minutes, and I'll do a sweep with her from there."

The vampire headed to the window, pausing, as the woman in the bed called softly after him. "Spike...Happy Valentine's Day."

"Same to you, luv." He replied, ducking out of the window. "Same to you."

***

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Lighting another candle, Willow nodded. "I think I know how to weaken it, if you can just keep it at a distance..."

"Keep it at a distance...right...preferably without having my guts torn out or my head ripped off...I can do that..." Squatting down beside the witch, to glance at the spell books. "And the Watcher and your mate are safe?"

"They're locked up in Giles' apartment, working on a joining incantation. It's not as strong as this one, but I want to draw the main focus of its power if we are going to weaken it enough to destroy it."

The vampire could see the nervous set in the girl's slender shoulders. "You have no idea how glad I am that you all trusted me enough to do this spell." He murmured. "You're the strongest Witch I've met...dodgy spells not withstanding."

"And there was actually a compliment or two in there." Willow's smile had lost its nervous edge, her determination shining in her green eyes. "And I haven't done a dodgy spell in a long time!" She paused, thoughtful. "This'll stop anymore of these things coming after me, won't it?"

Spike nodded. "These things are tough to kill, but if a would-be meal kills one, that Witch will never be attacked again." He gave a muffled snort of laughter. "The Nyala are terrified of being beaten. They're not big on the revenge or taking chances."

"Sound like nice people to know." Mustering as much sarcasm as she could, she skim read the spells, sparing a glance for the distracted vampire.

"Whatever you say, Red." Straightening his legs, he looked around. The bitter, sulfuric scent of the demon was growing closer, tainting the clear night air. "Be ready, pet...it's almost here now."

As if on cue, the eight foot tall, scaled demon erupted from the wiry bushes, barreling towards the Wicca. Willow blanched as she laid eyes on the thing she had to weaken. Giles had told her they were human size.

*That* was not human size!

Vamped out, Spike tackled the creature, biting and clawing, as the young Witch started the incantation from the book, her voice trembling. The words seemed to blur together, a wind picking up around her, a storm with her sitting in the eye.

A flap on the creature's stomach dropped open, a mass of tentacles spasming out, groping their way towards the red head, in spite of all the vampire's best efforts to haul the demon away from her.

"Tarikina!" Softly at first, then with growing intensity and fury, the witch's voice screamed. Her hands dropped the book, stretching skywards, embracing the power of the elements. "Rayshon! Metala rayshon!"

Beyond the storm, Spike landed on the ground, thrown violently by the Nyala, but he forced himself to his knees. Only then, did he see what the Witch was doing, her eyes glowing an unearthly emerald. The wind shrieked around her, her hair dancing like flames, a ball of brilliant white light gathering between her upstretched arms.

The Nyala faltered for a moment, surveying the scene, then deciding she was worthy to be a meal, if not exceptionally dangerous, it lumbered towards her.

Over the wail of the ferocious wind, the red head's voice rose as several tentacles pushed their way to her, their hooked tips snagging her skin. As if throwing a ball, she thrust both hands towards the demon's body.

"Rayshon!"

The blinding orb of white exploded from her palms, smashing into the demon's gaping stomach cavity, amid the writhing mass of tentacles.

A spine-chilling scream of agony erupted from the demon's miniscule mouth, its entire body blossoming in gleaming, pure white flames. The screams only ceased when the flames guttered out, a pile of hissing ash dissolving into the ground of the graveyard.

Immediately, the young Witch slumped face-first on the ground, the effort of manipulating the elements exhausting her. Spike was by her side in an instant, carefully rolling her onto her back and examining her wounds.

Several deep cuts had been inflicted by the claws that decorated the tentacles of the now-dead demon, tiny pustules of its acidic blood clinging to her flesh.

Grimacing, he pulled them off as fast as he could. Those demons were particularly brutal. Like mini-leeches, their tiny ichor sacks would fuse to their victims' skin, eating away painfully at the flesh unless they were pulled out right away.

"What's going on?" Right on time, the Slayer stumbled onto the scene, finding a battered and bloody Spike, cradling an unconscious and bloodstained Willow.

"She did a spell to help me kill a demon." The pain in the vampire's voice didn't go unnoticed by the Slayer. "She needs cleaned up, pet. Can you get her to the Watcher? He'll know how to take care of this."

"Will she be okay?"

"She should be." Spike stood, the girl lifted in his arms. Depositing her in Buffy's capable and frighteningly strong arms, he raised a shaky hand to stroke the Slayer's cheek. "We both did it for the love of you...God knows why..."

Before the blonde girl could think of an answer, or shut her slack jaw, the vampire retrieved his duster from the nearby tombstone, where he had hung it before the fight, and disappeared off into the night, a small, satisfied smile on his face.

Shifting Willow's body in her arms, she turned and headed off swiftly in the direction of the Watcher's house, to find out just what the hell had been going on without her.

***

Staggering into the crypt, cool blood ebbed from slashes on the vampire's torso, every limb aching beyond bearability. His skull felt like it had imploded, his eyes so heavy he could barely keep them open as he pushed the door shut.

Leaning against the heavy panel, his feet skidded along the floor, his body sinking without a fight to the waiting ground.

Flopping down, the vampire found himself facedown on the ground. And he found he just didn't have the energy or the willpower to move, as he dropped into unconsciousness.

***

Waking up face-first in the dirt was bad.

Waking up face-first in the dirt, feeling like he had been hit by a train, then run over by a stampeding herd of cattle, closely followed by a battalion of tanks and foot soldiers was that little bit worse.

Clawing his way across the floor, his duster fell heedlessly off his body, his hands groping for alcohol of any description. Rolling onto his back, he wriggled uncomfortably until he was sitting upright against the chilly, stone wall and looked down at his body.

His T-shirt hung in tatters. Ripping it off with the strength he had left, a whimper of pain fell from his lips. Shoulders ached. Legs ached. Head ached. Chest ached. Groin ached. Everything bloody well ached.

Or was caked with blood.

Or both.

With the shredded remains of his T-shirt, soaked with the cheapest whisky in his stash, he swept at the cuts on his torso, hissing in pain as beads of burning demon blood burst and ate into his bare skin.

Pulling the duster across the floor with his foot, he groped painfully for a cigarette, his head lolling back against the smooth stone. With a sigh of relief, he lit up and inhaled a drag, his eyes half-closed as the smoke curled into his dead lungs.

A knock at the door made him groan. He had fought, he had the crap kicked out of him and now, they were going to make him do it all over again. Fan-bleeding-tastic.

"Bugger off!"

The door swung inwards, a familiar scent sweeping through the dank crypt. Not daring to believe it, one blue eyes cracked open, then the other.

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the coffin this morning." Buffy stood, bathed in the mid-morning sunlight, a small smile on her face. Noticing the blood staining the vampire's body, she crossed the crypt and squatted down beside him, muttering a soft curse under her breath.

Spike stared at her blankly. "What are you doing here? You're not meant to be here..." He attempted to rise, only to fall back with a hiss, fresh blood oozing from the wounds on his shoulders, the nearly- healed skin splitting open again.

Snatching the rag, playing the nurse as best she could, the Slayer dabbed at the uncleaned wounds across the vampire's shoulders. "I wanted to come by and say thank you for saving Willow. She's a bit disorientated, but Giles says she should be fine."

Letting his eyes sink closed again, savouring her awkward touch against his agonised body, her former arch nemesis exhaled a small sigh of relief. "I don't know what I would have done if she kicked the bucket." He muttered. Buffy's hand stopped moving, confused. "No one to nick nail varnish off...it would've been hell."

The Slayer laughed softly, moving the rag up to his neck, her knees straddling one of his thighs as she dipped closer. She didn't know how he could have managed to walk back to the crypt with the injuries she could see now. He had sauntered off, as cocky as ever the night before, not even looking remotely harmed.

"So that's why you did it?" A slit of a blue eye glanced at her. "You fought a massive demon, just to save Willow so you could steal her make up...I don't believe that."

"Didn't ask you to." A whisper of smoke trickled passed her. "Okay, I confess, I did it because I...er...want to keep the Scoobies alive for the day I get this chip out of me head. Yeah! That's it. I'm the only one that's gonna kill any of you so I had to save Willow cos she's a Scooby and no one kills any of the Scoo..."

His ramblings cut off in the sweetest way possible, the vampire's ice blue eyes shot open in shock. Buffy drew back from him, raising a hand to touch her lips, almost smiling. "I...I kissed you." She finally said.

One eyebrow raised, Spike slowly nodded. "I noticed that too...a lapse in concentration...that's what it was, wasn't it?"

Kissing him again, she shivered. While Angel had tasted of gentle darkness and Riley had – sadly – tasted of potato and nature, Spike was sheer masculinity and restrained strength, the flavour of nicotine and alcohol sweeping her mouth, as he tentatively deepened the kiss.

Drawing back, calm hazel gazed into amazed blue. "That wasn't a lapse in concentration." She replied quietly, her lips twitching up in a smile. "I heard you talking to mom last night. I heard everything..."

Spike's eyes fell. "Um...yeah...right..." Toying with one of the buttons on her jacket, the vampire's cheeks took on a very faint, pinkish glow. "Well..." Glancing at his watch, he forced a grin up at her. "Don't you have classes or something to go to? You don't have to stay and watch a vampire spontaneously combust from embarrassment."

"I wasn't thinking combustion from embarrassment." She murmured naughtily, her eyes dancing. There was the Slayer he had fallen for. The one who could taunt him and tease him just like that.

Brushing a light kiss over his bruised forehead, she got to her feet and retrieved her bag. "Wanna patrol tonight?"

Shrugging, he felt his mouth smile, even though he hadn't intended it to. He was in love and she had kissed him. His lips. And her lips. Their lips. If he hadn't been hurting from head to toe, he would have probably back-flipped his way around the crypt.

Stopping at the door, beams of sunlight picked up the golden highlights in her hair, as the wind ruffled gentle fingers through her loose man. "You know," She said, grinning at the dumbstruck vampire. "Mom always did like you more than Angel."

"That's cos he's a poofy great wanker."

The Slayer's eyes danced. "You know I'm going to have to beat you up for that, tonight, Spike?" Her tone suggested that beating up wasn't the only thing was going to take place and he was titillated.

"I look forward to it."

Pulling the door shut, the crypt was plunged into darkness again, leaving one very battered, blissed-out vampire sitting in a heap on the floor, smoking his cigarette and looking like every after-image of post-coital relaxation.

Tomorrow had finally come and damn, did it look like it was going to be a good one!



Back to the Character Index
Back to the Titles Index