A S/B shipper fic. This story takes DURING the finale of season 5, "The Gift"...

When you're dead, you have plenty of time to think.

Well, maybe Spike wasn't exactly DEAD, just UNdead, but he felt the principle was the same. If you don't have to sleep, it does wonders for freeing up your schedule.

Except that now his afterlife might very well be coming to an end. He, Buffy, & The Scoobies, were about to face down a god. At this very moment, the gang was getting what was very probably their last few hours of sleep.

He didn't feel much like doing that at the moment. Way he figured it, he was very likely about to set himself up for "The Long Sleep" anyway. He decided he would spend what time he had left enjoying a second to last overview of his life, being as how when it flashed before his eyes as he was dusted it would all go very fast. At least now he still had the option to slow-mo.

He started at the beginning, as someone once said, "a very good place to start." When he was William, not Spike, The Bloody. As in Bloody Awful Poetry. He'd like to think his poetry had gotten better in the last hundred years or so. He'd grown a spine, anyway. No more being everyone's doormat, their object of amusement. In the end, THEY had amused HIM.

Even Cecily, who'd loathed him as much as he'd loved her. And he DID love her. She was a goddess to him, just as Dru had been, and Buffy after her. It was WHY he did that puzzled him.

And then he thought maybe he knew. Each of his loves had, in some way, profoundly changed his life. Not that that was their purpose of existence-- far from it. They had affected him by simply being what they were; what happened to him as a result was almost an afterthought.

Cecily had been his muse, his inspiration. She set him to longing for better things. And she had been the first to kill him, if only figuratively, by crushing his heart under her finely-slippered heel. If she was to be likened to a goddess, she was the Maiden, representing his naive youth and the callousness of that age.

Dru at first thought would be the Crone, the taker of life, but then he thought better of it. She had killed hm first thing when she met him, and through that moment, he was reborn, into a cold killer. So she was, in fact, the Mother. Most would say she was the great love of his life because he'd loved her the longest-- still did, in a way-- and she'd loved him BACK. But was that love, he reflected, the love of lovers, or was it more familial? Did he love her of his own accord, or was it because of the bond that they shared, her hand in making him a vampire?

Then there was Harmony, but she didn't really fit into the equation. She was almost like an early version of the Buffybot, just a toy. He never loved her, only used, and she seemed willing to BE used.

It was Buffy, he realized, who'd taught him what pure love was. She had killed him too, if not in the way she had often intended. She was the Crone, the killer, after all, not Dru. It was because of his obsession with defeating her, making her his "Third Slayer", that he came back to Sunnydale rather than holing up in Europe. Brought him to where he was caught & "nuetered", having a chip implanted in his head that prevented him from harming humans. Effectively ending his life as a vampire. Making him want to TRULY die. In fact, one could say that simply meeting her had set him on the long road of his undoing, causing his relationship with Dru to fall apart.

So what was he now? Helping out his once-sworn enemies. Fighting other demons so he'd have something to scrap with. Falling in love with the woman he'd dreamed of killing. A woman who'd, at least untill recently, wanted to kill him just as much. Not that she'd fallen in love with him too, more like came to realise he was of more used to her unalive than dusted, as it were. And maybe even pitied him.

Once, and not so long ago, he wouldn't have settled for less than having her as his bride, and not because Willow's spell made her so. Now he would take pity; it was a far sight better than her hatred. He wondered if somehow WIllow's spell had not been fully removed from him. What he felt for Buffy had started as an infatuation, one he suspected stemmed from his obsession with killing her. Since the chip provented him from killing the Slayer, it seemed to make sense that intense hate would go in the only direction it could. Backwards. He knew it was no healthy love that made him feel the jealousy he did towards Riley. No healthy love would make him threaten to kill Buffy if she didn't comply with his wishes. No healthy love would have him pit Buffy against Dru. But then, if it had been really all THAT bad, he would have killed them both. Something stopped the moster in him, and it wasn't a soul like Angel had.

From then on, something changed. It was like he'd been in a cocoon since he'd met her, and that night what was growing inside him broke loose. Now, he could never hurt her. Now, he only wanted for her to be happy, whatever she decided. It was decidedly unevil of him.

But then, had he really ever been EVIL? He liked to say he was; after all, wasn't a vamp SUPPOSED to be? He certainley wasn't a nice guy. But then again, he wasn't outright malicious like Dru. He'd given her things to torture because he wanted her to be happy. He killed people, but a bloke had to eat, didn't he? And anyway, when you were already dead, dying didn't seem like such a big deal. He liked to fight becuase he's been such a weakling when he was alive. He was a bully because he'd been bullied so much before he'd died. No, he played at being the big, bad vamp, but really was just trying to get by, dealing with human emotions from a vamp's perspective. Not that he was good, but he was no Marquis Desode--or Glory-- either. And now he found himself doing nice things for no particular reason, not for money or to win Buffy's affections, but because it seemed natural to do it.

At that moment, Spike decided that good and evil was just convenient packaging, and wasn't really revelant at all. He also understood that somehow he'd always known that. And that he would continue to think of things in terms of good & evil because it WAS convenient. Now his head was hurting.

He studied the faces of the sleeping Scoobies. Like him, Buffy had affected each of them in a profound way. Here were his long-time enemies, yet they were the closest thing he had to friends. They were gathered here together in Buffy's name.

Giles. Her mentor, yet Buffy had definitley taught the old man a thing or two. Brought him out of his books and into the real world. Outwardly Spike and Giles didn't have anything but homeland in common, but Spike had to wonder if they might not have ben friends under different circumstances. He wondered how differently he might have turned out with Giles to guide him. And he also sensed that Giles had a darker side. That the man feared Spike's presence because he was afraid of that side being brought to light. Spike knew he had a talent for making people see things they would have rather left deep in the closet.

Then there was Willow, freshly OUT of the closet, so to speak. He could say he honeslty liked Willow; besides Joyce, the girl was the only one he could really talk to. It was odd how the two women could so easily put aside what he was and talk to him like he was nothing special. Just a mate. And if not for Buffy, the girl might not have found it so easy to talk to a vamp, or anyone else for that matter. Buffy brought her out of her shell and gave her the opportunity to use her talents. He was glad Willow had found Tara, although he felt it was a bit of a waste that the girl wouldn't be passing on her gifts. Still, Willow had a dark side of her own, one that needed Tara to keep it in line. He shuddered to think what might have happened it Glory had KILLED Tara.

Tara herself was sweet, he supposed, but he felt rather indifferent to her. He was glad he had been able to help her out when her family had accused her of being a demon, even if he had nearly killed her in the process. Buffy's influence on her was indirect; Buffy had brought Willow out of her shell, and now WIllow was doing the same for her. Sometimes the effects Buffy had wasn't so immediate to the eye.

Anya. Now there was a quandry. She had been a pretty nasty demon herself, yet association with Buffy had seen to her return to her humanity, and the Scoobies had welcomed her with open arms. Even despite the fact that she was irritating, often excrutiatingly so. At least her naivete' was good for a laugh, now and again. He wondered if there were some way he might become human-- it seemed to be the way to become accepted amongst the Scoobies, if Anya and Angel were any indication.

Although he had to admit that his most vocal opponent, Xander, seemed an amicable fellow, once one got to know him. Not that he wanted to live with the guy again or anything. But Xander, no matter how much Spike liked to egg him on (it was just so damn easy!), was someone Spike could respect. Practical, loyal, brave. That was Buffy's influence too, the bravery; it was always there, but she had helped the man find it.

Like she'd helped Spike find his heart.

His eyes rested on her. He watched her the rest of the night, drinking the sight of her.

They didn't speak a word to eachother as they made their way to Buffy's house to gather arms. It wasnot for lack of something to say. Spike had so much he wanted to say to her he didn't know where a to begin. HE also didn't think she would welcome it. Better not to upset her, and just enjoy what might every well be the last moments he got to spend alone with her.

When they reached the house, she started barking orders like the leader she was. Spike would have been only to happy to obey, but she had forgotten one very important detal. Spike had been uninvited.

He could have been smarmy about it, or gotten angry. But he didn't feel angry, accept maybe at himself for making her feel she needed to be protected from him. Instead he meekly told her she could just pass the weapons through the door.

She invited him in instead. He tried very hard to not make a big deal about it, so that she wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Tried to laugh it off. But he knew full well she could read the gratitude in his face. He just couldn't contain himself anymore; he had to say something.

"I know you've never loved me." He felt as if the world lifted a little from his shoulders, finnally admitting it to her. He wanted nothing but honesty between them, even if in the next moment she should tell him he was a loathsome git & to get out of her house. But he didn't give her a chance to say anything as he continued. "I know I'm a monster. "Another truth, the burden a little lighter. "But you treat me like a man... and that's..." His courage gave out. He smiled weakly and turned away, going on about what weapons to take, afraid his voice would break any second.

He was going to say, "and that's more than I could hope for or deserve." He knew she knew it herself already; there was no need to make things more awkward or embarrass himself by staring to bawl in front of her.

She spoke, and just the sound of his name, spoken for once in need rather than contempt, was enough to send him reeling. She told him she needed him to watch over Dawn, that only he could do it. He promised to gaurd the girl till the end of the world. And he meant it, not because Buffy asked him to, he realised-- well, not entirely, anyway-- but because it felt like the thing to do. This was his bit, his part in the grand scheme. And he had to admit, he liked the girl. Sometimes he thought, if he had lived out a normal life, that he would have been quite happy to have a daughter like Dawn. And friends like the Scoobies. And a wife like Buffy...

All the same, there was no point in wishing for what never was. He could only hope he could fulfill the role the fates had cast him in.

As the cold steel sank into his flesh, Spike knew he's failed. He kept on fighting, but somewhere inside him he had given up. Maybe even before he'd ever climbed the tower. But he'd made a promise to the love of his unlife, and he would fight with all he had rather than run.

The "old man" proved far stronger & more capable than he. Spike's eyes met Dawn's, saw the fear and denial there. How could he have lost? Spike wondered if her face mirrored his own, the shock, the despair. He wondered if she could see how sorry he was, not just for what would happen if the portal opened, or for having failed Buffy, but for her, for DAWN, that he couldn't save her, protect her.

As he was shoved off the platform, the cry of anguish that ripped from his throat carried the heartache and frustration of all men through the ages. He had failed. The world would see armageddon, Dawn would die, Buffy and the Scoobies with her, most likely, Glory would win, and all because of him. There was no one telling him this, no accusations. Just undeniable truth.

As he hit the ground, he thought there was never a time when he more regretted being immortal. If he had been mortal, the fall would have killed him, like he deserved.

No, like he wanted. He deserved to see the fruits of his failure.

The night ended both better and far worse than he would have imagined.

Dawn had been cut, the blood flowed, the portal opened. But instead of killing her sister, Buffy took her place and closed the portal with her own body. When it blinked out of existence, Buufy's body dropped to the ground like a stone, much as Spike's had done just a few moments before. Except that Spike had still been alive, after a fashion, and Buffy was quite dead. He didn't even have to be next to her to tell. Being dead, he could tell these things.

He dragged his broken carcass off the ground and staggered towards her with the others. The sun had begun to rise, but he didn't care. It could bloody well have his dust. It was only reflex that made him duck it. He sank to his knees, wishing desparately that he was wrong, that she would flutter an eye, twitch a hand. That her chest would rise and fall.

He began to sob, his cries echoing through the ruins like a banshee. He had failed her, and now she was gone. He knew now what hell was like. It wasn't being poked or prodded or peeled. It was having every ounce of happiness, every shred of hope ripped from you in the form of the one you loved most. It was being filled with a sense of loss that encompassed all sense of the word. Loss as in not winning. Loss as in not finding again. It was being filled with guilt, guilt because everything that went wrong was your fault, because others suffered for your inadequacies. Guilt because the grief you felt was as much for yourself as for the dead.

Dawn filled his eyes. Not the light of the sun. And in a profound moment he realised just how appropriate the girl's name was.

Till the end of the world. That was what he had promised Buffy.

The end of the world might have felt like it had come and gone for him, but for one special girl it was a new morning. He would make sure she lived to see thousands more.

With her help, he managed to drag himself into a nearby building. As they went, Giles stopped him a moment.

"Stay with Dawn while I..."

They both knew he didn't have to finish.

Out of the harsh light of day, a light that was merciless in what it revealed, Spike held Dawn. She sobbed herself to sleep in his arms. The other Scoobies made their way in soon after, reluctant to leave but needing to get out from underfoot of the authorities. No one spoke. No one tried to take the girl from him. When they were ready to take the bodies away, Anya and Xander rode with so the ex-demon could be looked after, as did Giles, who had to answer questions and handle the mortuary end. When each the men said their silent goodbyes to Dawn, they also squeezed Spike's shoulder. He wished he could say something, but he wasn't sure what he would even if he could find his voice.

Willow and Tara decided to take Dawn back to their place. Tara found some robes to cover Spike with so he could leave as well. They hailed a taxi & made their way back to the girl's place. No one suggested Spike go back to his crypt, nor looked at him askance as he followed. He would not leave Dawn's side no matter what they might have said, but it was a relief that he didn't have to fight them on it.

When they reached their destination, the two girls immediatley set to work covering the windows with heavy blankets. He carried a sleeping Dawn in, grateful for the care they took on his behalf.

He would have thanked him, but there didn't seem to be a need. Something had happened between them all. Buffy had connected them in death beyond even what she had done in life. He was accepted, and for what he was.

Dawn's gaurdian angel.