This story takes place after the season 6 episode of Buffy, “Normal Again”. It does NOT fit in the same continuity as the Spike & Cerberus or Watchdog series…

Dawn gestured with her hands as she spoke, regaling her companions with her big story of the day while they made their way through the alley.

"So then I told him that if he touched me again, I'd cut off hi-"

"I don't think you'll be cutting much of anything, girlie-girl …" said a menacing voice behind her.

Dawn held her schoolbooks tightly to her, instinctively using them as a shield, as she spun to face whatever trouble she had managed to get herself into this time. Her friends, not so used to danger, did the sensible thing -- they dropped their things and ran. Seeing that the man who'd been following them really wasn't a man at all, and also wasn't alone, she belatedly realised she should have run too. Except now they had her surrounded. Noting their big shoulders, big claws, and very big teeth, she wished -- not for the first time -- that she could use her existence as "The Key" to transport herself out of there. She could send a hellgod home, but she couldn't magic herself out of a jam. How fair was that?

Spike had gone to the bar to drink himself into a stupor, but found that he was somehow too depressed to even try. The fact that Clem had found him and tried to cheer him up hadn't exactly helped. So now he was just wandering around aimlessly, wallowing in self-pity, sending little old ladies scurrying as he muttered to himself about killing things.

As he walked, he realised he smelled something both familiar and somehow out of place. He took a deep breath, sorting out the scents of rot and other unmentionables. Moments slipped by, along with the a few other pedestrians that were in a hurry to be away from odd fellows who sniffed the air like a dog while they themselves were doing everything they could to keep from breathing the foul air/ breath. Alleys weren't so abandoned as movies liked to make them out to be, although he thought they should. The average John or Jane Doe off the street seemed to like to think they were immune to danger if it meant they could get where they were going faster.

And apparently Dawn had seen fit to join the ranks of the "in-a-hurry".

Dawn was trying to decide whether screaming would get her help or just get her dead when a familiar bleach-blonde mop bobbed into view, a ways behind one of her assailants.

"This a private party, or can any bloke join?"

The demon turned halfway, glaring at the vamp. "Go get your own food!" it snarled at him.

Spike sauntered up, his footfalls echoing as he walked on the wet asphalt. He wore his "game-face", twisted into an obnoxious smirk.

"See, now, the way I figure it, I am. This li'l chippie 'ere, belongs t'me. But I'm willin' t'share."

The rest of the demon gang shifted their focus to the vampire, their growls all sounding as if they came from one throat. One of them perked up, squinting at Spike.

"Hey, I know that guy!" he told his comrades. "That's the vampire that's been helping the Slayer!"

As one, the pack of demons began to move towards Spike. Dawn took the opportunity to make a hasty exit, thinking Spike would do the same as soon as she was clear. Spike knew how to take care of himself. She didn't give him a second thought as she ran home.

Dawn didn't stop running until she was beyond her front door. Once inside, she slammed the door shut and locked it. She leaned against the barrier and sank to the floor, gasping for air. When she came to her senses, the first thing she noticed was the tapping foot in front of her. Slowly she lifted her gaze from foot to head, flinching as she met the angry eyes of her sister.

"Uh, h-hi, Buffy …" she managed weakly.

"Where have you been?"

Dawn scowled. She looked at the clock on the mantle. "Buffy, it's only 6!"

"It's also winter, Dawn. As in 'vampires can be out earlier'."

Dawn stood up, bristling. "I was just over at Claire's, studying with the gang! Like I usually do on a Wednesday!"

"You left there 45 minutes ago -- I called."

"Sandy, Janet, and I went for ice cream. It was on the way back, I didn't think it was a probl-"

"That's the problem, isn't it?! You never think! You think just because it's early, it's safe? That vampires are all having dinner at 5:30 like all the normal families? Well, yeah, actually, they might be -- and you would be it! Or did you forget they like to eat out? And hell, even daylight isn't exactly safe!" She crossed her arms and scowled. "After all, sunlight doesn't seem to keep Spike from going about during the day …"

Dawn's eyes widened, "Oh-m'god!" She raced to the widow and shoved the curtain aside so she could see out. Not seeing what she wanted out that widow, she went to one on the other side of the door. Nothing there, either.

Buffy grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?! You're getting a lecture, dammit, and you'll listen if I have to tie you up and --"

Dawn grabbed both her sister's arms, her grip like iron, startling Buffy. "He's out there still!"

Buffy saw her younger sister's eyes brimming with tears, and her heart softened with concern. "Authoritative Parent Buffy" was replaced by "Concerned, Mothering Buffy". She cupped Dawn's cheek in her hand.

"Shhh, it's okay, calm down. Who's out there?"

"Spike! He was helping me escape from some demons, and I lost --"

"WHAT?!? Demons? What demons?! I thought you were at the ice cream parlor, not with Spike!" Determined, she stomped to the door and started to unlock it. "When I get my hands on him, he'll wish he were dead! … Or more dead, anyway …"

"Buffy, no, you got it all wrong!" Dawn stepped in front of Buffy, reflecting for a moment that doing so was something akin to stepping in front of an angry bull. She swallowed back her fear and told the whole story.

The knife went through muscle, cracking bone. 143, Spike thought. Another sank deep into his back, and the weilder twisted it a little. 144. He had given up struggling -- he was too weak to even stand, now. He counted the wounds they dealt him like they were sheep, part of him wondering if it would help him go to sleep so he didn't have to feel it. If only they would hit him on the head hard enough to knock him out. Sometimes it really sucked being immortal. The demons thought it was fun having something to slice and dice that didn't die on them. He wondered how much longer it would be before they grew tired of this game, and just beheaded him. Judging by their child-like laughter, he didn't think it would be any time soon. He wondered idly if a vampire who bled enough could die, or if they just lay there, suffering the unbearable hunger while unable to do anything about it.

"Hey boss!" cried one of the guards, whose duty it was to make sure no one caught them having fun.

They had taken turns, being guards and having fun, all save their leader -- who, of course, got to have the most fun, non-stop. The boss seemed rather irritated at the interruption.

"WHAT?" He growled, not bothering to look at the other, but instead going back to carving his initials on Spike's chest.

"There's company comin' -- a girl!"

The leader grinned, baring teeth like daggers. "Heeeeyyyyy, looks like we didn't miss supper after all!" He sprang to his feet and raced towards their prey, his followers close behind.

Spike moaned as he tried to sit up. He prayed Dawn hadn't gotten it into her fool head to come back for him.

"Ooooooh, I love it when men chase after me!" quipped a familiar voice.

In fear, Spike found the strength to get up and stumble towards the voice. As badly as the demons had hurt him, the mortal Buffy wouldn't stand a chance, even if she was stronger and faster than other humans.

"On second thought, you're all not exactly men, are you?" she taunted them.

The demons were almost upon her when they fell to the ground, one after another, each with a crossbow bolt through a vital part of his anatomy.

Spike looked up and saw the Scoobies on a rooftop overlooking the alley. Buffy also had a crossbow in her hand, having no doubt taken at least three of the demons out on her own.

Relief flooded through Spike, washing away the fear. Unfortunately, relief couldn't keep him standing. As his head struck the ground, he was sent into blissful darkness, away from the pain of his body …

And his heart.

Their foe vanquished, the Scoobies climbed down the fire escape while Buffy made her way to their fallen comrade. Seeing him lying there like that, covered in blood, his face bruised and swollen, reminded her of when he had been tortured by Glory. He had let the hellgod almost kill him, rather than betray her sister Dawn. She had kissed him then, softly, to tell him that she had finally seen good in him. That he had proven he had some humanity still in him. That was the day she had started to make room in her heart for him. She'd never realised, though, just how much space there he would eventually claim.

When they'd fought the final battle against Glory, Spike had promised her he would protect Dawn till the end of the world. And he had valiantly tried to keep that promise. The others has told her of how, when she had died, the vampire had been inconsolable. He blamed himself for her death. He'd also continued to look after Dawn, to keep the promise that he'd failed to keep once, even though he no longer had any reason to.

Except that he did have reason -- she'd just never given him enough credit. He loved Dawn as if she were his own sister, maybe even as a daughter. And he'd changed. He might try to kid himself into thinking he was evil, but he'd come to do good for decency's sake, not just to impress her, as he once had. He was becoming more and more human every day, and she'd refused to see that. Even when she'd given in to her growing attraction to him, she still had insisted he was just a monster, refusing to admit to the presence of the man within. The man she was coming to love, however much she might deny it.

She reached a hand out to him, softly caressing his cheek. A drop of water fell on his face, and she looked up in confusion, thinking it had started to rain. She felt a drop rolling down her own face, felt the warmth of it, and realise they were tears. She wiped them from her eyes, hoping the others didn't notice.

Gently, she lifted him into her arms and got to her feet. When she turned, Willow, Xander, Anya, and even Tara, stood there silently, cringing at the extent of the vampire's injuries. There had been no love lost between Xander and the vampire, but it seemed she saw something like pity in his eyes. Anya's face was strangely void of emotion; Buffy guessed the ex-demon was uncertain what she should be feeling. Willow held a hand to her mouth, clearly shaken by the sight. Everything Spike had done to them before, to frighten and threaten them, now seemed a distant memory. He had proven himself an ally, and a friend. Tara looked upset, being more accepting of the vamp than the others from the start. She hadn't had much opportunity to see the dark side of him. She also seemed to be sending Buffy silent sympathy; of all Buffy's friends, she was the only one who knew of her and Spike's trysts.

As they walked down the alley, Xander stopped to pick up something -- a leather coat. Spike had taken it off before the fight. Xander thought it would comfort the vampire to know it wasn't filled with holes, the way Spike's body now was.

The Scoobies took Xander's car back to Buffy's place. No one said a word. Xander thought of making a crack about not wanting the vampire's blood all over his seats, but decided tonight Spike had earned a break. He pretended not to notice how tenderly Buffy cradled the vampire in her arms as he eyed them (or rather, her and her empty arms, which he knew weren't really empty), as she sat in the backseat with the vampire still in her arms, in the review mirror.

The ground felt considerably softer than it has a moment ago. Spike flinched at the touch of a hand, bracing himself for the feel of another blade sinking into him. Instead, he felt the touch of a cloth and warm water, gently rubbing at his skin. The scent of blood was overpowering. He found that he was starving, with a hunger unlike any he'd ever known. He was also in agony, with a hundred and some-odd aches all over his body. His eyes were swollen shut, so he couldn't see where he was, but as cohesive thought returned to him, he was able to venture a guess. Sifting past the scent of blood, he was able to confirm it. He was at Buffy's.

"D-Dawn?" he croaked, his throat dry with an insatiable thirst.

"Shhhhh …." The Slayer told him. "She's fine, thanks to you. How do you feel?"

Spike laughed, then flinched in pain. "Like a b-bloody pincushion!" he gasped.

"Spike …" She stopped cleaning the blood for a moment, her hand paused on his chest. "Spike, I just want to thank you for saving Dawn. I … I'm having a hard time taking care of her. Mom always seemed to know what to do, y'know? And Dawn listened to her. " She sighed and went back to her task. "Anyway, it helps to know that you're still protecting her."

He reached for her hand and clasped it. He wished he could see her beautiful face, but holding her hand, having her touch him, helped him feel better. "You're a good mother, Buffy," his voice was weak, but sincere. "Dawn's at that age; you're mum wouldn't have any easier a time of it. But I'll do my best to help you, like I promised. I failed you once; I won't fail again. Till the end of the world." He smiled. "Besides, I like Dawn. She's a good kid, brave and clever. Like you."

He couldn't see her, but he could swear she was smiling. He could feel it, like the warmth of the long-forgotten sun.

And then the smell of blood grew stronger, and he went mad with hunger. Something was pressed against his lips, and the copper nectar flowed across is tongue. He sucked at the source like a hungry babe, his hands grasping and holding it to his mouth. For long moments, blood and his hunger was all there was in the world.

As his hunger ebbed, he realised it was an arm he was clutching like a life preserver. Buffy's arm. His eyes, now partially healed, snapped open. She was sitting there beside him, her eyes closed, her slight form starting to sway. He pushed her arm away from his lips and sat up, ignoring the pain. He took her in his arms, frightened she had given too much.

She still breathed. Her eyelids fluttered open. She smiled, and wiped the blood--her blood--from the corner of his mouth with her thumb. He still looked like hell warmed over, but he seemed a bit stronger now, and well on his way to healing.

"Feel better?" she asked him.

"Why did you do that?! I could have drunk you dry!"

She sat up, showing him that she was all right herself. "You're still too weak to fight me, even now. I just thought you could use a bit of Slayer blood to help you heal faster -- it's the all-natural energy-boost, ya know, better than any power bar!" She winked. "I wasn't going to let you have any more than I could spare and still keep my wits about me."

"You didn't look like you had your wits about you just now -- you looked like you were going to fall asleep!"

She blushed and looked away. "I-I wasn't sleepy … It' just …"

Then he realised where he had seen that look before. She got that look on her face when she … really liked the way he made her feel. When he did … stuff.

He turned her head to look her in the eye. "Don't do that again. I don't care how good it feels! You have a bad habit of not wanting to stop even when you know something isn't good for you." He could tell by the look in her eye that she knew what he meant.

"I also tend not to know when something is good for me, until it's gone." She ran a hand through his hair. "I tried to tell myself that you were a monster still, and that being with you was wrong. I was afraid that, if you were a monster and I loved you, that made me a monster, too. I thought that was why you could hit me, before. But when I learned I didn't come back wrong, then that made things even worse, because I thought I was just using you to feel alive, and that I had some sort of … of fetish, or something."

He raised a brow at her, and she blushed.

"Well, okay, maybe I do. Like you said, every Slayer has a death wish. We like it rough and dangerous. But I realise now that it's more than that. I was so caught up in my own fears, that I didn't see that you were right. You have changed. And so have I. Neither of us is perfect, but I'm not the hero I thought I was. I do have a martyr complex.

"Ever since I got back from heaven, or wherever I was, I've felt slighted. I was denied my reward for being the Slayer. Part of me wanted my friends to feel sorry for what they'd done. I was feeling sorry for myself. You kept trying to make me face reality, and I resented you for it. I resented that someone who had been my enemy could be right, while I was wrong.

He let her keep talking, not saying a word. He wanted to hear her say these things, but as much for her as himself. She seemed to be on a fast-moving train of thought, now, quickly approaching a destination she'd been avoiding for far too long, but hopefully would be much happier once she'd reached it.

"I wanted to keep you as the monster, because that meant I was still the hero. But things aren't that simple. I guess they never really were. Life was so much easier when the world was good versus evil. I knew who I was and what I was supposed to do with my life. And I knew that I would die doing it. I didn't know I would come back.

"Mom died, and suddenly I had all these other responsibilities, thing I had to do besides being the Slayer and saving the world. And then Giles left, and I had no one who I could look to for guidance but you. And I was too prideful to do that. Can you forgive me?"

She was crying now. He drew her close, wincing only slightly, wrapping her in his arms, stroking her hair. "It's all right, Buffy. I've changed, but I'm not perfect either. You have plenty of reasons to hate me, to not trust me. I may not be evil, but I'm not exactly a hero, either. But you'll always be my guiding light, Buffy. Angel has his soul, and you're mine. You make me a better person."

He pulled back. He kissed her on the forehead, then lifted her chin. "I know you don't love me. It's all right, Buffy, I'm still here for you. As a friend or however you need me. And if you need comfort, I can still do that -- no strings attached. I don't expect you to still be there in the morning. But if you want me to go, I'll do that to." He wouldn't have been able to say those words yesterday, but now that she'd gone so far, he couldn't help but be taken there with her. Now that she had been able to admit the truth, it had somehow freed them both from the hurt that made them obstinate, made them act exactly the opposite of how they should out of a childish need to be petty. "I just want you to be happy, whatever it takes, and if I'm making you miserable, th--"

She silenced his lips with hers. His pain melted away, her kiss breathing new life into his undead frame. Her hands were gentle as the caressed him, pushed him back against the bed. Her bed.

She stopped, panting. "That's what I'm trying to tell you … I do love you. I know that now. I might not know much else, but I do know that -- and I'm ready now to let the rest of the world know too."

He stared at her a moment, unbelieving. He wondered now if this was a dream, like every other time he'd heard her say those words. Except the pain in his body told him he was wide awake.

She moved her hands down his frame, covering his neck and chest in soft kisses. The hunger in her lips was unmistakable.

"Um … love? Willy Wonka's not exactly open for business just now …"

She furrowed her brow. "… What?"

"You know …" He gestured down with his eyes. "He hasn't got any … candy ready for sale."

Understanding made her eyes go wide. "Oooooooh!" Then she pouted, disappointed.

This was exactly why he wasn't letting her have her way with him. For all her talk, he was afraid she might not feel so loving in the morning, once her lust was spent. He couldn't bear to see resentment or contempt in her eyes again. Love was a prize too hard won to spend it so wantonly.

"Maybe we could just lie here a while, love? Just talk?"

She smiled and cuddled up next to him, still caressing him lightly with her fingers. She kissed his shoulder. "Tell me what life was like before you were … changed. When you were William. What was your family like?"

He smiled. "Only if you promise me something."

She perked her head up, smiling. "What?"

"From now on, you call me William, instead of Spike."