Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable.” ~James A. Garfield

“Why don’t you recite a poem for us, Spike? I’m sure we’re missing out.”

“Xander, that’s enough.” Buffy couldn’t believe she was actually defending Spike, but really, sometimes Xander didn’t know when to drop it. She usually enjoyed spending time at Giles’ place, but recently it had become more of a chore than a break from dorm-life. If Willow had been there, they might have been able to distract Xander between the two of them, but Willow was at the library with a study group. That left Buffy and Giles to deal with Xander and Spike’s sniping.

Well, to be fair, it was more Xander’s doing.

“Buffy—”

“Dead horse, Xan. You’re beating it.”

“She’s quite right, Xander.” Giles spoke before the young man could protest again. “We’re all tired of hearing you bait Spike.”

Buffy spared a glance for Spike, who looked like he was about ready to come unglued. She wasn’t sure she could blame him. The truth spell had seemed like a good idea at the time. They would find out everything that Spike knew, make sure he wasn’t hiding anything else to save his own skin, and voila. They had their own inner window into the Initiative.

The problem came in when Giles tried to break the spell. It wouldn’t break.

Giles said all the right words, sprinkled the right powder, but when Willow asked Spike how he was feeling after the spell was over, the vampire had snarled, “Bloody useless. What do you think?” Spike’s surprised look indicated to all of them that he hadn’t intended to say that. “What did you do to me?” he demanded.

Giles flushed, flipping through his spell book. “I took the spell off.”

“No, you really didn’t,” Spike shot back. “It’s still there. I can feel it.”

“Maybe if you do a reversal spell,” Willow ventured.

“No more spells!” Spike objected forcefully. “You lot have done enough.”

“Perhaps just something to take the truth spell off,” Giles suggested. “Willow might be right. A general reversal spell should do the trick.”

“Wait a minute,” Xander objected. “Why not leave it on?”

There was a pause as everyone considered that idea. “No way,” Spike said. “Would you want to be stuck like this?”

Giles shook his head regretfully. “We don’t know what it would do, Xander,” he said. “Besides, I assure you. Having someone around who can only speak the truth would not necessarily be pleasant.”

“For instance, has anyone told you that you’re beginning to look like the business end of a mop?” Spike asked, the expression on his face letting everyone know that he was prepared to use the truth like a knife.

Xander glared at him. “Hey! I happen to like my hair, and I do not look like a mop!”

“Ignore him, Xander,” Buffy said. “Giles, do you need us to pick anything up at the Magic Box?”

For her part, Buffy had no desire to hear the truth from Spike’s mouth. In fact, the less time she had to spend with him, the better. Ever since Willow’s spell, things had been uncomfortable. The sad fact was that Spike—although definitely evil—was a very good kisser. And hot. He was really hot.

Giles scribbled down a few items and handed her the list. “If you could bring those over tomorrow, I would appreciate it.”

“Sure thing,” Buffy promised.

Buffy had done her part. She had purchased Giles’ magic supplies and delivered them, and her Watcher had done the reversal spell.

And still nothing.

Giles had said that he was sure the spell would wear off eventually, which had left Spike fuming. “Eventually” wasn’t soon enough for him, and Buffy couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit sorry for him. After all, how many times had a quick lie saved her skin? That, and every time someone asked a question in Spike’s vicinity, he felt the need to answer—truthfully, of course.

When Willow asked Giles if he thought she should try conjuring again, Spike commented that she should probably get herself under control before she tried any more spells because the last one had nearly gotten them all killed. When Anya had asked Xander if they could leave, Spike had stated that she was just trying to lose herself in a man because she didn’t know what she really wanted now that she was human.

Xander had asked Buffy why she hadn’t killed him already, and Spike suggested that Xander was too scared to do it himself. That he liked having someone weaker than him around to take potshots at.

Xander had grown red-faced and angry at that, turning to stare at Buffy. “Why haven’t you dusted him yet, Buffy? He’s worthless, a complete waste of space. This is Spike! William the Bloody! How can you let him walk around when he got his name from killing people? When he’d still be killing people if not for that chip?”

“That’s not true.”

The words had sounded like they had been dragged out of Spike one at a time. All eyes were immediately focused on the vampire, and Xander, seeing the alarm in his eyes, asked, “What’s not true?”

Buffy had watched Spike struggle against the spell—struggle and lose. “That’s not how I got my name.”

“Xander, that’s enough,” Willow said. “It’s not important. Spike can’t hurt anybody, and it wouldn’t be right to hurt him.”

“No, I want to know how he got that name if it wasn’t by killing people. So, you’re saying that people called you Spike because you’re such a nice guy?” Xander asked.

“No,” Spike said, obviously trying to say as little as possible.

Xander raised his eyebrows. “Then you’re saying you got the name William the Bloody by being a nice guy?”

“No.”

“Xander,” Buffy said in a warning tone. “This is stupid. Who cares where his name came from?”

“I do,” Xander replied. “I want to know. How did you get the name William the Bloody?”

Spike’s face had twisted with the effort, but it was to no avail. The spell was still strong enough to compel him to speak, and speak the truth. “It was for my bloody awful poetry.”

Xander probably would have kept on asking Spike questions after that, but Buffy had stepped in. Not that she hadn’t been curious, but Spike had looked about ready to explode, and she had felt—a little sorry for him.

Just like she felt a little sorry for him now.

It had been four days, and the spell was still going strong. Spike was looking more and more like he was ready to do something nasty—like rip Xander’s throat out, chip or no chip—and Xander didn’t show any signs of ending the teasing.

Buffy had the sense that Spike had been right on the money. Xander liked being able to dish out the ridicule, probably because he’d taken so much of it. Still, it didn’t make her feel very good about him.

Not that she minded doing her own share of tormenting Spike, but that was because he was Spike, and it was kind of fun. Now it was more like picking on the slow kid. Buffy had never been the sort to torment an easy target, not unless they deserved it.

While Spike might deserve a little bit of it, this was getting a little out of hand.

“Let’s go, Spike.”

He favored her with an impartial glare, his blue eyes sunk deep into their sockets. “What the bloody hell for?”

“Because I’m ready to patrol, and I have the feeling that if I leave you with Xander, you’ll probably end up killing him,” Buffy replied.

Spike cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? So?”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Come on, Buffy. Spike’s impotent now.”

“Hey!” Spike protested. “Pick a different word.”

“Shut up, Xander,” Buffy said, although there was little heat in her tone. “Just because it’s going to kill him, doesn’t mean Spike won’t try and take a piece out of you.” She looked over at her Watcher. “Do you mind?”

“No, you should go, and it might be a good idea for…” Giles paused, rephrasing his words slightly to make it sound a little less patronizing. “It’s probably a good idea for you to have company.”

Buffy nodded. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” Spike replied, obviously relieved to have a question he could answer honestly without embarrassing himself further. “Right behind you.”

~~~~~

Spike figured he was in hell. It was the only reasonable explanation. Sometime during the last few weeks, he’d died, and now he was in his own personal hell. Even the fact that he was outside, away from that annoying git, Harris, didn’t make him feel any better.

Probably because he was still stuck with the Slayer.

The worst part was that Spike couldn’t help but remember what it had been like to hold her, touch her—kiss her. Maybe he’d thought about shagging Buffy before draining her dry, but his fantasies had certainly not included getting married.

They had fought the entire time, of course. Pissed each other off about every five minutes. At the same time, they had been in love.

Manufactured love, Spike reminded himself. It had been a ridiculous spell. Once the spell was gone, he and Buffy had gone right back to hating each other.

And now Spike found himself at the mercy of another spell, not even able to control what came out of his mouth most of the time.

He strode along beside Buffy, hands shoved deep in his pockets, the silence almost comfortable. Neither of them seemed inclined to talk, and Spike couldn’t say that he minded the silence. It was easier when he could keep his mouth shut these days.

“If we let you go, would you promise to stay out of trouble?” Buffy suddenly asked.

“Yeah,” Spike replied. He would definitely promise to stay out of trouble. Whether or not he actually managed it was a different story altogether. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you staying with Giles isn’t working,” Buffy replied bluntly. “Xander’s going to get himself hurt.”

“Right,” Spike ground out. “Because he’s not asking for it.”

She shot him a look. “That’s not what I said.”

Another silence fell, this time not so comfortable.

“What am I doing out here, Summers?”

“You’re getting a chance to stretch your legs and get away from Xander, and I get to patrol and kill demons,” she replied. “Call it a win-win situation for both of us.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you ask me to come along?” Spike pressed.

“Because I thought it might make things more interesting.” She smiled at him sweetly. “With any luck, any demons I run into will go after you, which should make things easier for me.”

“Thanks so much,” Spike replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The first cemetery they passed through was deserted. Spike was a little disappointed. He’d always enjoyed watching Buffy fight, and if he couldn’t partake in the violence, watching it was the next best thing.

It was the only good thing at the moment.

He was honestly tempted to end it all. The chip was one thing, but the spell was the final straw. If it didn’t wear off soon, Spike figured he probably would find a way to stake himself. Or maybe he’d just meet the sun.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t.” Spike could hear the weariness in his own voice, and he hated it.

He could feel her hesitate. “Okay.”

The silence stretched out, and Spike waited, silently counting in his head. He didn’t believe for one minute that Buffy’s curiosity wouldn’t get the better of her.

“Would you kiss me again?”

“What?” Spike asked, stopping dead in his tracks and staring at her.

Buffy immediately lost her nerve. “Never mind.”

“No, you don’t,” Spike said, jogging the few steps to catch up with her since she’d sped up. “You don’t ask a bloke that sort of question and then just drop it.”

“I can if I want to,” Buffy said. “It was a stupid question, and I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget it.”

“Fine,” Spike grumbled.

It was Buffy’s turn to stop. “Would you kiss me?”

“Why?”

“Because when we—kissed, with the spell? It was nice. I’m sure it was just the spell, though, and if I kissed you now, you would probably be a horrible kisser. So if I kiss you now, I can get over it.”

It was the most ridiculous explanation Spike had ever heard. Although, there was a sort of twisted logic behind it. Under the spell, they had been in love, so it only made sense that they’d enjoyed kissing one another. Now, without the fake feelings the spell had wrought, they would probably hate it, and they could forget it ever happened.

Of course, the way Buffy had put it, Spike had everything to prove, since he was most certainly not a bad kisser. He’d had over a century to practice, after all.

The idea was rather appealing. While he might not share Buffy’s certainty that trying again would solve the problem, Spike remembered what it had felt like, and it certainly hadn’t been all that bad.

It had been pretty damn good, actually, and with the way his life had been going lately, Spike could use a taste of something sweet.

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“Really?” Buffy asked. Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“You think I want anybody to know that I voluntarily locked lips with the Slayer?” Spike asked. “That would be a quick way to get myself killed.”

Looking partially mollified, Buffy nodded. “Okay. So how are we doing this?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Do you need me to spell it out?”

“No!” Buffy shot back. “Just—come here.”

A smirk played around the corners of Spike’s lips. “Ordering me around is not going to do you much good, pet.”

“Don’t call me ‘pet.’” Buffy sighed. “Please come here.”

Spike moved so they stood toe-to-toe. “How’s this?”

“Fine.” She looked up at him. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“Are you kidding?” Spike scoffed. It did feel a little scary, though. If she’d asked if he was scared, Spike would have had to tell her the truth. That he was a little bit scared because this felt big. Monumental. Kissing her while not under the influence of a spell, and not just before killing her.

Spike had noticed that she had refrained from asking any questions that would cause him further embarrassment. Buffy could have grilled him on his poetry, his past, any number of things that would expose him to ridicule. She’d done nothing of the sort, and Spike couldn’t help but wonder why.

Not that he was going to ask.

When it appeared that Buffy was going to make him take the first step, Spike bent his head, his lips touching hers tentatively. She made no move to shove him away, and he deepened the kiss slowly, becoming more sure of himself when he felt her respond.

He’d been half-tempted to let her keep her little fantasy that he wasn’t nearly as good as she remembered. The temptation had lasted for only a moment, however, because Spike wanted to be sure that she remembered this. In fact, if she ended up comparing every other guy unfavorably to him, that wouldn’t break his undead heart in the least.

Soon enough Spike’s only thoughts were of Buffy—her lips, the hand that clutched at his duster, the smell of her hair.

It really was too bad that she was the Slayer and he hated her, because he was certain that he could lose himself this way.

When Spike finally broke the kiss so Buffy could catch her breath, he tilted his head. “So? Was it really that bad?”

Buffy looked a little stunned, her lips swollen. Then her eyes widened for another reason entirely. “Oh, shit.”

Spike glanced up, over her shoulder, and he realized that they were surrounded by a group of unidentified demons. “Bloody hell.”

~~~~~

If Buffy had stopped to think about it, she might have realized that she and Spike had moved into a back-to-back position. Even though they fought with one another constantly, give them a common enemy, and they were a synchronized fighting force.

Of course, that was one of those things that Buffy didn’t care to examine too closely.

“What are they?” she asked him.

“No bleedin’ clue,” Spike replied.

Buffy could hear the note of fear in his voice. She couldn’t blame him. Spike had no way to defend himself, and there were more than a dozen—way more than she could take on by herself. “Okay. We need a plan. Do you have a plan?”

“Run for it?”

“Can we get through?”

“If we both rush them at once,” Spike replied. “Might be able to break the line.”

Buffy took a deep breath. “You’d probably better let me go first. It’ll make it easier.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Buffy was fairly sure that Spike didn’t like the idea, but he was smart enough to know that she was right. By going first, she’d take the brunt of the impact, and it was less likely that the chip would fire and incapacitate him. “Here goes nothing,” she murmured.

Buffy rushed the circle of demons only to smack into an invisible wall, bouncing back into Spike’s chest.

His arms tightened around her reflexively, preventing her from taking a fall. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know!” Buffy exclaimed. “But it’s solid.”

Spike released her, walking towards the demons purposefully. They weren’t moving—hadn’t moved since Buffy had first seen them, in fact, and she wondered what the heck they were doing.

Spike pushed against a wall that wasn’t supposed to be there, and Buffy started getting really nervous. Whatever else the demons were planning, they wanted to keep her and Spike in one place. The Slayer was prepared to deal with demons, even lots of demons, but she didn’t know what to do about invisible walls.

“This isn’t good.”

“No kidding,” Buffy replied, her sarcasm beginning to set in with the panic. The panic only grew when the air began to glow with blue fire. Buffy could only assume that the light outlined the perimeter of the barrier. “What are they doing?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Shouldn’t there be chanting or something?” Buffy asked. “When Giles and Willow do spells there’s always chanting. And candles.”

Spike moved closer to her, dropping into a fighting position out of instinct, although there wouldn’t be much he could do if it came down to a fight. “Not everyone needs that kind of stuff,” he said absently, focused on the emergency at hand.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something to stop them?” Buffy asked a little desperately.

Spike gave a short bark of laughter. “What would you suggest?”

The fiery blue walls started moving in on them, edging ever closer, forcing both of them into the middle of the circle, ever closer together. “I don’t know, but I really don’t want to be here when those walls close in on us.”

“It’s not looking like we’ve got much choice,” Spike replied.

And then blue fire was upon them, and the world disappeared.

Chapter Text

“Most truths are so naked that people feel sorry for them and cover them up, at least a little bit.” ~Edward R. Murrow

Spike shoved the limp form off his body without even looking to see what he was pushing at. His head was aching so badly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to open his eyes.

“Oof!” Buffy’s voice was as irritable as he felt. “Spike!”

“Sorry,” he muttered, although he wasn’t sure that he meant it. “Bloody hell.”

“You’re telling me,” she said.

Spike opened his eyes reluctantly, seeing Buffy sitting up, her head resting on her knees. “Are you okay?”

“Give me a minute.”

“Sure.” He pushed himself up off the ground, looking around warily. Then, with a growing sense of unease, Spike said, “Buffy?”

“What?”

“Is the sun out?”

“What? Yeah. I—” Her eyes flew open, and she stared at him. “You’re not on fire. Why aren’t you on fire?”

“How the hell should I know?” Spike asked. He looked up at the sky, the pale yellow sun glowing steadily in an aquamarine sky. “Don’t think this sun works like ours.”

“Okay, if this sun doesn’t work like ours, where are we?” Buffy demanded, pushing herself to a standing position. The ground was spongy under her feet, and she had to fight to keep her balance.

Spike was a little more careful as he struggled to his feet, trying to ignore his pounding head. “Best guess? Another dimension of some sort.”

“But why?” Buffy asked, her voice nearly a wail. “Why us?”

“I don’t know!” he snapped. “I’m as lost as you are, Slayer.”

Buffy glared at him, and then she sighed, breaking eye contact and looking around. “We just need to figure out where to go. There has to be a way to get back to Sunnydale.”

Spike didn’t bother telling her that the people he knew that had gotten sucked into other dimensions didn’t often return.

Okay, no one he knew who had gotten sucked into another dimension had ever come back.

They were definitely not in Sunnydale anymore. The ground cover resembled moss more than it did grass, and the plain was devoid of trees or any other foliage as far as his eyes could see.

And Spike could see pretty far.

Wherever they were, it wasn’t good. His chip would prevent him from feeding from Buffy, but while hunger wouldn’t kill him, it could kill the Slayer. Thirst would do it first, though, and it would do it within days if they couldn’t find a source of water.

Spike didn’t like to think too hard about his desire to keep the Slayer alive. He told himself that it was merely because two heads were better than one, and if Buffy died of something as trivial as lack of fluids, it would mean that he would never get a chance to kill her in a fair fight. One thing Spike could say was that he’d always taken a Slayer in a fair fight.

“We need to find water,” he said. “That should be the first thing.”

Buffy gave him an odd look. “Why?”

“So you don’t die of dehydration,” Spike replied shortly. “Trust me, it’s not a pleasant way to go.”

“I know, but why would that be your first thought?”

“Because I don’t want to see you dead.”

That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He had meant to reply that he wanted to kill her himself, but Spike knew the truth when he heard it. While a part of him still wanted to see the Slayer dead, a (slightly) larger part of him didn’t.

“Oh.” Buffy’s expression turned speculative. “I forgot about the spell for a minute.”

“Yeah, I did, too.” Spike took a deep breath, testing the air for any scent of water. The air was strangely pure; Buffy’s scent was the strongest, and nearly overwhelming with so few odors in the air. “I think we should go this way,” Spike said, pointing east.

At least it would have been east if they were still in Sunnydale and the sun was near its zenith.

Spike expected her to argue with him. Instead, Buffy just shrugged. “Lead the way.”

~~~~~

They had been walking for hours. Okay, so Buffy didn’t know whether they had been walking for hours or not, but it felt like hours. She was just relieved that she’d worn her tennis shoes rather than her boots. Walking over this ground, for hours, in heels would not have been fun. Somehow Buffy didn’t think that Spike would be a gentleman and carry her.

He’d been amazingly—civil. That was the word. Not quite nice, but not his usual irritating self either. Buffy wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

She sighed. At least it wasn’t too hot or too cold. The balmy temperatures meant she wasn’t terribly uncomfortable.

“Think we’re getting closer,” Spike announced.

“Good,” Buffy muttered. “Because I’m ready to drop.”

“We get to a water source, you can drop all you want.” Spike sniffed the air again and altered his course a degree or two.

Buffy was shocked when she saw the oasis. It appeared out of thin air almost. One minute there was ground and sky and nothing else. The next minute there was a stand of trees growing tall and wild.

All of the colors in this strange world seemed off. There was the gray-green moss on the ground, the butter-yellow sun, the aquamarine sky. The trees with their purple leaves spreading out like huge ferns. Buffy could hear the sound of water, of birds—even feel a cool breeze caressing her skin.

After hours of the eternal sameness, Buffy couldn’t help but break into a run.

Spike shouted out behind her, “Buffy! No!”

She felt his hand grasp her arm just as she hit the edge of the trees, and then everything disappeared again.

“Buffy? You okay?”

Spike’s voice brought her around, and she blinked, not noticing any appreciable change from having her eyes open to having them closed. “Spike?”

“Yeah. You alright?” he asked, more insistently this time.

“I think so.” She felt his hands help her sit up, and she looked around, seeing nothing. “What happened?”

“Your little stunt got us both dropped down a hole in the ground. Haven’t you ever heard of a mirage? The whole thing was a bloody illusion,” Spike replied, sounding annoyed. “I wanted to wait ‘til you were awake to look for a way out.”

Buffy frowned. “Can you hear that?”

“Of course I can bloody well hear that,” Spike replied. “It’s water, innit? I told you we were getting close.”

“Are we underground?”

“Yeah. Told you we got dropped down a hole,” Spike said. “Here.” Buffy felt him grasp her upper arm, hauling her to her feet with surprising gentleness. “It’s this way.”

“How do I know it’s safe to drink?” Buffy asked.

“You don’t,” he said shortly. “I can’t tell if it’s going to kill you or not, but it smells fresh. You’ll just have to hope it doesn’t make you sick.”

Buffy allowed him to lead her closer to the burbling sound she’d heard. Spike took her hand and put it into the tiny trickle flowing out of the rock wall.

That’s what she assumed was going on, anyway, since she couldn’t see it very well. Her eyes were beginning to adjust, though, and Buffy could just make out Spike’s pale flesh and glowing yellow eyes.

As the water hit her hand, Buffy realized how very thirsty she was, and she filled her cupped hands, drinking greedily.

“Easy,” Spike warned her. “Won’t do to make yourself sick.”

She slowed marginally, not replying until her thirst had eased. “How are we going to get out of here?”

“I don’t know.” He paused. “I really wish you’d stop asking me questions I can’t answer.”

“Does it hurt?” Buffy asked.

“No. It just makes me twitchy. ‘I don’t know’ is as much the truth as anything else.” Spike sighed. “Do you want to stay here and wait while I explore, or do you want to come with me?”

“Come with you,” Buffy said immediately. There was no way she was going to let him leave her down here alone, although she trusted him to come back for her.

The thought hit her then that she trusted Spike.

Not like she trusted her friends, of course. She wasn’t stupid. She trusted Spike to help her get out of this mess, though, and that was saying quite a bit.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be alone in an underground cave, either,” Spike observed. “You filled up, or do you want another drink?”

Buffy took the opportunity to get one last drink. “Let’s go.” There was a moment’s pause as they both considered how best to proceed. Hand in hand seemed like the easiest solution, but that was also rather intimate.

She didn’t argue when Spike took her hand, though.

“You never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Was the kiss really that bad?”

Buffy had almost forgotten, but the memory came rushing back to her as she followed Spike down a corridor so dark not even his pale skin was visible. The kiss hadn’t been bad. That much was for sure. For a moment, she was tempted to lie—to tell him that it was the worst she’d had.

It didn’t seem quite fair when Spike couldn’t lie, though. Still, Buffy wasn’t above taking unfair advantage. “Was it bad for you?”

His growl told her that he knew exactly what she was doing. “No.”

“How good was it?”

Buffy felt his hand leave hers, and without that contact she lost all sense of direction. “Spike!”

“It was good, alright? Are you happy now, Slayer?”

She felt the hot flush of shame. Spike really had been amazingly civilized to her, and here she was picking at him. “It was good, Spike. The kissing part wasn’t just the spell anyway.”

Silence fell, and Buffy realized that she couldn’t sense him. She couldn’t even hear him. Spike didn’t need to breathe, and he could stand as still as stone and then vanish without a sound. “Spike?”

Buffy felt something cool and smooth slip past her cheek, and she shuddered convulsively. “Spike, this isn’t funny.” Whatever had brushed her face suddenly tightened around her neck. She had time for one muffled squeak, and then Buffy found her air cut off completely.

Even with Slayer strength, Buffy found herself incapable of pulling the smooth tentacle off her neck. She struggled feebly, beginning to see colored lights dance at the edge of her vision.

Just as suddenly, the grip on her neck loosened, and Buffy dropped to her knees, drawing in a gasping breath. She heard Spike snarling above her, and then his hand clamped down on her arm.

Buffy was still trying to catch her breath, even as Spike hustled her on. “What—”

“Don’t try to talk,” he ordered. “Not until I get a look at you.”

She didn’t think she could talk. Her head ached, her throat felt crushed, her lungs burned. Buffy let Spike pull her along, trying to focus on her breathing.

The light that hit her eyes didn’t do anything for Buffy’s headache, and she shut them tightly.

“Bloody, buggering—” Spike broke off his cursing abruptly. “Sit.”

Buffy let him steer her to a hard surface, and she slid down. “It has to be bad if you’re being this nice to me,” she croaked without opening her eyes.

“Shut up,” he ordered, not unkindly. “That thing really did a number on your throat. It’d be better for you not to talk until it’s had a chance to heal.”

As much as it hurt to talk, Buffy was inclined to take his advice. She leaned her head back against the wall, starting when she felt something cool and wet descend on her bruised throat.

“Hold still. It’s just a wet cloth.”

Buffy risked cracking one eye, realizing that Spike had taken off his duster and the red button-down shirt he’d been wearing. She could smell the mineral tang of the water right under her nose, and she realized that he’d wet his shirt and put it around her neck. “Spike…”

“Told you to shut your gob, didn’t I?” Spike asked. “Do as you’re bloody well told for once.”

Buffy closed her eyes again, not wanting to analyze the underlying fear in Spike’s voice. “’kay.”

After a day like she’d had, it was no wonder that Buffy dropped off to sleep almost immediately.

~~~~~

Spike waited to be sure that Buffy was asleep before he began his exploration of the cavern. He didn’t like the way he’d reacted to her near-strangulation.

Spike touched the welts on his face gently, testing to see how badly he’d been hurt. He’d been pissed as hell when Buffy had turned the question around on him, knowing that he had no choice but to answer honestly while she wasn’t under the same compulsion. Spike had broken contact, as much out of a desire for some distance as a need to scare her. His senses were good enough that he had no trouble knowing exactly where the Slayer was, and that there was another water source nearby.

As angry as he’d been, Spike hadn’t meant to nearly get her killed.

He was still a bit stunned over what he’d said earlier, about not wanting her dead. Although he wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, Spike had known it was the truth as soon as the words passed through his lips. Not that he liked her, mind you, just that he didn’t particularly want her dead. There was a difference.

The tentacles had come out of the stone so quickly that Spike hadn’t had any time to fight them off. One had wrapped around his face, and the second around his shoulders. The only good thing about the attack was that Spike was now fairly certain that while he might not be able to hurt humans, demons were fair game.

It was an exhilarating thought.

The cavern was large, about a hundred feet across and fifty feet wide, lit naturally with the phosphorescent rocks lining the walls. There was a spring trickling out of the wall and a large pool bubbling in the middle. There was water for Buffy, but Spike knew he was going to have to find a source of blood soon.

Actually, they were both going to need to eat. Spike wasn’t sure why he was worrying about Buffy. She certainly hadn’t been all that concerned about feeding him in the recent past. Still, he supposed he could justify it by saying that they were going to have to work together if either of them wanted to make it out alive.

Spike’s predatory instincts, sharpened with hunger, allowed him to catch a faint whiff of fresh air. There was an exit to the outside world close by, although everything he’d seen so far indicated that staying underground might be the smart thing to do.

He glanced back at Buffy, considering his options. If he left while she was sleeping, Spike knew she would be vulnerable to attack. At the same time, he might be able to find food, which would put the Slayer even further in his debt.

Something he had every intention of capitalizing on.

~~~~~

Buffy woke slowly, her whole body stiff. She opened her eyes warily, wondering if the previous day’s events would turn out to be nothing more than a very strange dream.

No luck there.

“’Bout time you woke up,” Spike said, his voice holding an edge of sarcasm. He was standing with his back towards her, letting the stream of water from the wall run over his forearm. “Thought you were going to sleep the day away.”

She scowled at him. “How long have I been out?” It still hurt to talk, but she could tell that there had been a vast improvement.

“Few hours,” he replied. “I found food.”

Buffy perked up at that. “Where?”

“There’s an exit close by,” he explained, gesturing blindly at the pile of tiny fruits he’d laid on the ground near her. “Found those growing by the entrance.”

“What about you?” Buffy asked, eyeing the strange fruit suspiciously. There was no way to tell whether it was poisonous before eating it. She couldn’t even make Spike try it first.

“I got something.”

“What?”

“An animal. Looked like a cross between a pig and a deer.” Spike shifted uncomfortably, refusing to look at her. “I’d have brought it back with me if there’d been any way to cook it.”

Buffy decided to risk the fruit. She was starving, and it didn’t look like she was going to have any other options until they got out of this place. She took a bite of one, quickly finishing it off once she’d gotten past the first taste. It was a little like a strawberry. “So are we leaving?”

“Don’t think that’s a particularly good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I think we might be safer here for now.” Spike turned to face her for the first time since Buffy had woken, and her eyes widened. There was a livid bruise across his left cheek, and the arm he’d been soaking looked like it had been chewed on.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Had to fight something for my dinner,” Spike replied. “Don’t think they’ll come where it’s light, but there are nasties in the corridors between the caverns.”

“What about getting out altogether?” Buffy asked. “Back to the surface.”

Spike shook his head. “There’s no water on the surface. Everything here is underground, from what I’ve seen. We go up, we starve.”

Buffy really didn’t like the sound of that. Spike was talking like they were never going to get back to Sunnydale. “Spike, we can’t stay here. Giles is going to come looking for us, and if we’re underground, they’re not going to find us.”

“We don’t know that.” Spike’s expression was as serious as Buffy had ever seen it, and she didn’t recognize him. With a sinking feeling, Buffy realized that Spike was worried. Really worried. Like they wouldn’t get home again.

“You’re saying that this is the best place to wait it out.”

“Something like that,” he responded. “Just think that it might be smart to stay where there’s water.”

Buffy frowned. “We’re both going to need to eat. I appreciate the fruit, but it’s not going to last me very long.”

“Tighten your belt then, luv,” Spike snapped back. “Looks like neither one of us are going to be eating real well for a while.”

She glared at him. “I didn’t get us into this mess.”

“Didn’t you?” Spike asked. “I’ll bet you my last fag that those demons were after you, not me, which means that you did get us into this mess.”

“I didn’t ask the demons to send us to another dimension!” Buffy protested. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“Like you aren’t a target just by being the Slayer,” Spike sneered. “You were the one they were targeting. I was an innocent bystander, and now I’m stuck here with you.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing innocent about you, Spike.”

He snarled. “I sure as hell didn’t deserve this. Death, maybe. But not this sodding chip, or the bloody truth spell, or being saddled with you.”

Buffy was pissed off, mostly because Spike could make her angry faster than anyone else she knew, but she couldn’t think of a good comeback. Not when blood dripped down his arm onto the mossy floor, or when his still-damp shirt laid beside her because he’d used it to soothe her bruised neck. Or when she could still taste the fruit he’d picked, apparently at the risk of life and limb.

Okay, so maybe Buffy was just pissed off because she was being forced to be grateful to Spike.

“Fine. What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say thank you.” Spike sat down on the ground several feet away, still nursing his hurt arm. “And if you’d be honest with me, that would be nice.”

“I’ve been honest with you. How have I not been honest?” Buffy replied, confused.

He snorted. “You only tell the truth when it suits you. The rest of the time, you bury your head in the sand, hoping you don’t have to face reality.”

Buffy opened her mouth to argue, and then she realized that there was nothing she could say, not when Spike couldn’t lie.

Chapter Text

“The truth is always exciting. Speak it, then. Life is dull without it.” Pearl S. Buck

Spike was bored, although that wasn’t anything new. Ever since he’d gotten the chip, life had been dull. Well, once he’d gotten out of the Initiative and found himself on Giles’ doorstep anyway. About the only thing that had broken the monotony had been the Slayer and their squabbles.

He hadn’t been terribly surprised when Buffy insisted on seeing the exit for herself. Spike had been tempted to let her go alone, but she was disadvantaged in the deep darkness of the corridors, and even breaking off one of the phosphorescent crystals didn’t help. The glow died as soon as it was separated from the wall.

Buffy had been all set to go off on her own, however, even without the extra light, and Spike—for whatever reason—wasn’t ready to let her go alone. He told himself it was just because he’d have to save her later, but he knew it wasn’t the truth.

Spike was getting really good at recognizing the truth.

He noticed that Buffy was suddenly being very careful about what she said to him. Even while talking about further explorations, she had refrained from asking him any questions that might result in something she didn’t want to hear.

Truth hurts. Spike had known that for a while now.

They had been attacked not ten feet away from their own hidey-hole. This time it wasn’t the thing with tentacles that had attacked the two of them, or the monster that had been nothing but teeth that had gone after Spike and his meal, but something amorphous that had threatened to suck the heat and the life right out of the Slayer.

Spike, being a vampire, was apparently immune.

It was a dilemma, that was for sure. Here, there was water and food, if they could get to it. There was light, and safety within that light. Should they manage to make their way back to the surface, however, Spike knew that they probably wouldn’t face the dangers of life underground, but they would be without anything to eat or drink.

Buffy was right. They would have to brave the dangers of the dark again if they wanted to eat, and Spike knew that it would have to be sooner rather than later. He wasn’t hungry right now, however, and Buffy wasn’t in danger of dying, so he didn’t particularly care whether or not she was comfortable.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Spike rolled from his back onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look across the floor at the Slayer. Her earlier nap had obviously taken the edge off her exhaustion, which meant that the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements were preventing her from falling asleep again. He watched as she turned over for the fifth time in as many minutes, grunting a little as she tried to get comfortable.

“Get over here.”

The words were out of his mouth before Spike could pull them back. This was stupid. They were enemies. Okay, so maybe they were allies for the moment, but he could watch her back without being nice. Spike wasn’t nice. He was evil. The Big Bad. The thing that went bump in the night.

At least, he had been once upon a time.

“What do you want?”

“I want to help.” He cursed under his breath. If he’d had his way, Spike would have ignored the question, thinking better of his offer.

Buffy sat up, watching him with a guarded expression. “Okay.”

“Look, I’m used to sleeping wherever I can,” Spike said. “You’re going to be more comfortable over here.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, apparently unwilling to risk another question. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said instead.

“Suit yourself,” Spike replied, telling himself that he was not disappointed in the least. Buffy could suffer if that’s what she wanted.

He rolled over, turning his back to her and closing his eyes. His instincts were telling him that it was night, and that he should be up and about, not sleeping. Spike wanted to be hunting, and he considered trying the corridors again. They would have to fight their way through at some point.

“How’s your arm?”

“Better.”

That was the worst part about the spell, Spike decided. The always telling the truth part was sodding awful, of course, but the fact that he couldn’t even ignore a question was the worst. He couldn’t even pretend to have gone to sleep.

“Can I see?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, rolling over to face Buffy again. Spike let her see his arm, the multiple lacerations along his forearm where the thing’s teeth had gotten to him.

Buffy ran gentle fingers along the untouched skin carefully. “It looks better.”

Spike just raised an eyebrow, wondering where she was going with her inspection. “Do you think we’re going to get out of here, Spike?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly—because there was no other choice. Spike might have tried to spare her that truth if he could.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. “What you said, about being stuck here? I’ve been thinking about that. What if we can’t get back to Sunnydale?”

“I don’t know,” Spike repeated, propping himself up. “Don’t have a bloody clue.”

Buffy gave him an inscrutable look. “I’m not sorry about the chip.”

Spike scowled. “Yeah, well—”

“But I’m sorry about the truth spell,” Buffy forged on. “And I’m sorry you got roped into this. You’re probably right. Maybe you deserved death, but you didn’t deserve all of this.”

Feeling marginally friendlier now that the Slayer had at least acknowledged the fact that he’d had a really bad few weeks, Spike sat up to face her. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for saving my life.”

He shrugged, uncomfortable with her gratitude. It reminded him of just how twisted this whole thing had gotten. “Couldn’t very well let that thing kill you,” Spike muttered. “Your friends would probably just leave me here if they found out.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “Can I ask you a question?”

The last time she’d asked him that, Buffy had requested that he kiss her. Spike just raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if she’d ask without giving her any encouragement.

She huffed impatiently. “Come on, Spike. I really won’t ask if you don’t want me to.”

“Sure you will,” he replied knowingly. “Moreover, if you ask, you know I don’t have any choice but to answer. You’re just worried you’re going to hear more of the truth than you can handle.”

Buffy grimaced, a little dismayed. “You said you didn’t want to kill me anymore,” she stated.

Spike’s lips quirked. He was amused. The Slayer was trying very hard not to ask a question and yet still get the information she wanted out of him. “I did say that.”

“And you saved my life.”

“I might’ve. Then again, maybe you would have rescued yourself,” Spike replied,

“Why?”

“You being dead isn’t nearly as much fun as you being alive.” Spike felt a surge of elation. That wasn’t the whole truth, but apparently the spell was beginning to weaken. It was the truth, though. Fighting with Buffy had always been fun.

She frowned. “That didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Times change.”

“Does that have anything to do with why you came back to Sunnydale?”

“Yes.” The word was a hiss, the bare minimum he could get away with. Spike really didn’t want to tell her what Drusilla had said. It would put him even more at the Slayer’s mercy than he was already, if that were possible.

Buffy apparently decided to take pity on him. “What’s the worst part about having the chip?”

“Being helpless,” Spike said immediately. “And why are you asking me all these questions?”

“Because I can’t sleep, and I’m bored,” Buffy replied. “Talking to you is the only thing there is to do.”

“You could go for a swim,” Spike suggested, knowing exactly how Buffy was going to react.

At least, he’d thought he knew exactly how she was going to react.

“Only if you promise not to look.”

Spike let out a short bark of laughter. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m evil, Slayer. What makes you think you can trust me?”

“I don’t know.” She gave him a thoughtful look. “I honestly have no idea why I trust you.”

Spike blinked. “You trust me?”

“Well, not in a blind faith kind of way like I trust Willow or Giles,” Buffy replied. “I trust you to keep your promises, though. You helped me out with Angelus and Acathla.”

“Had a good reason for that,” Spike reminded her.

She shrugged. “Yeah, and you have a good reason now.” Spike couldn’t really argue with that. Buffy continued, “Promise not to look, and I’ll do the same.”

Spike snorted. “Now you’re forgetting something, pet. There’s nothing in it for me.”

“Yes, there is,” Buffy replied. “You get to stay undusty.”

~~~~~

Buffy risked another cautious glance at him as she pulled her clothing over still-damp skin. Even without the benefit of soap and shampoo, just being able to rinse off some of the grime had been nice, and as far as she knew, Spike had kept his promise.

Okay, so technically he hadn’t promised not to look, but he’d kept his back to her while she’d bathed as far as Buffy could tell.

“Your turn,” Buffy announced. When he didn’t move, she winced, guessing that he was asleep. Thinking back, the Slayer wondered when Spike had last slept.

“You going to make me the same promise?”

Buffy frowned as he rose. “About what?”

“Not looking,” he replied with a smirk.

She could feel her face turn red. “Like I’d want to,” she scoffed, grateful that she didn’t have to tell the truth. Ever since the spell—the kisses—Buffy had been hyper-aware of how hot Spike was. Not that she hadn’t noticed before that, but it had become even more apparent to her since then.

“Suit yourself,” Spike said, shrugging out of his duster, letting it drop on the ground. He pulled his t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion, leaving Buffy momentarily stunned.

Oh. Wow. It was about the only coherent thought that passed through her brain.

She was snapped out of her confusion when his hands went to his belt buckle. “What are you doing?” she squeaked.

Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Getting cleaned up. You said it was my turn.”

“Oh. Right. I, uh, I’m going to try to get some sleep,” Buffy announced, moving as far from the pool as she could and turning her back to him. She heard Spike chuckle, and then heard the twin thuds of his boots as they hit the ground.

She tried to ignore the speed of her heart rate, tried to breathe deeply and ignore the fact that Spike was getting naked not twenty feet away from her, and if she just turned a little…

No. That would be wrong. Spike hadn’t invaded her privacy. Of course, he knew she would stake him, and Buffy didn’t have to worry about that.

Listening to the sounds of the water splashing was strangely soothing, though. Buffy could hear him humming under his breath, and so she was half-asleep when she rolled over, not really thinking about what she was doing.

When she heard the sloshing, and a brief curse that seemed to indicate that something had gone wrong, Buffy opened her eyes. It was only to be expected.

Buffy remembered the picture of Michelangelo’s David, mostly because it had been in one of her history books, and the pictures had always been the best part of history. The names and dates did nothing for her.

Too bad she couldn’t say the same for Spike.

A naked Spike.

What made it worse—a lot worse, actually—was the fact that he could be nice. It was a lot easier to hate Spike when he wasn’t leading her to water and saving her life and taking care of her bruises. When they weren’t having civilized conversations that involved their feelings.

If Spike had merely been a pretty, evil vampire, Buffy could have gotten over it. After all, Angelus had been pretty, and she’d had no problem killing him, once she figured out that Angel wasn’t coming back anyway.

It was just that Spike wasn’t entirely evil.

“Like what you see?”

Strike that. Spike was totally evil.

Buffy quickly turned so that she had her back to him again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please, Summers. Do us all a favor and be honest for once.”

It was the disgust in his tone that had Buffy sitting up and facing him. Spike was facing her, naked and rather obviously unashamed. “Why would I want to do that?” she asked. “Your ego is big enough already.”

The pleased smile on his face told Buffy that Spike had caught the buried compliment. “Like you don’t have an ego the size of the moon?”

“What are you talking about?” Buffy asked without thinking. Belatedly she realized that she might not want an honest answer to that question.

Spike reached for his pants and tugged them on. “You’re the Slayer. You have to believe you’re the best, that you’re better than everyone else, because if you don’t believe, neither will your friends. And if you don’t believe, you’ll die that much sooner. That’s the way it works when you’re a predator. You have to believe you’re going to win.”

“I’m not a predator,” Buffy objected.

“No?” Spike asked, tipping his head to the side, giving her a sharp look. “Then what do you do after dark, Slayer, if you’re not hunting?”

She wanted to argue with him. Buffy wanted to tell Spike just how wrong he was, but she found herself incapable of doing so. Spike wasn’t far wrong.

“You do what you have to do to survive, pet,” Spike said, his tone softer. “We all do.”

“Even you, Spike?”

“I came to you, didn’t I?” Spike asked.

Buffy shook her head. “You could have gone somewhere else. You could have, I don’t know, found some of your old minions.”

“And if they found out I couldn’t hunt?” Spike asked, a melancholy note in his voice. “They’d have killed me right off. Knew that you wouldn’t if you agreed to help me out.”

“You’re saying you trusted me.”

“Yeah.”

Buffy wondered how they’d gotten here. A few days ago, she would have said that she hated Spike more than anyone else in the world—with the possible exception of Parker. Now? Not so much.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Spike suggested. “We’re going to have to make another run for it tomorrow.”

Buffy nodded, knowing that he was right. Both of them were going to have to hunt if they wanted to eat. If they could find a way to have a fire, so much the better. Up until now, Buffy could tell herself that there would be a portal opening up any moment. That Giles and Willow would find them and bring them home.

The gnawing in her belly told her that even if it was soon, they needed to get serious about their survival, because they could be here for a while.

Maybe forever.

No. Buffy wouldn’t let herself think like that. She gave an involuntary shiver.

“You cold?”

Spike’s question startled her. “Huh?”

“You cold?” he repeated patiently. “You were shivering.”

Buffy sat up again, glancing over at him. He’d moved closer to her, so that he was only a few feet away, his duster hanging from one hand. Spike looked torn, as though he had no idea what to do next, but he wanted to do something.

She could relate to that.

“I’m not cold,” Buffy replied, which was true. The dark corridors were cold, but the well-lit cavern with the warm pool of water in the center was a comfortable temperature. Buffy supposed that Spike wouldn’t know that, being a vampire and all. He probably didn’t feel the temperature at all.

“Right.” Spike glanced down at his feet, then back up at her. “This is bloody ridiculous,” he announced.

“What is?”

“You and me,” Spike replied. “I’m used to sleeping on a hard surface, and you aren’t. Only makes sense that we share my coat.”

It was the last thing she had expected to come out of his mouth. “Okay…”

Apparently that was enough encouragement, because Spike dropped down beside her. “So, uh…”

Buffy realized that she was pretty much going to have to sleep on top of him in order to get any sort of benefit from his coat. Then she realized that he’d been offering himself as a pillow with the comment about the hard ground. “Right.”

She met his eyes, and in that moment, everything changed. No, that wasn’t true. The truth was that everything had been changing, and this solidified it. Maybe what made it okay was the fact that Spike looked just as bewildered about all of this as she was.

Buffy watched as he settled himself, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Gingerly, she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling him pull the duster over the both of them, his arms coming around her.

It turned out that Spike was right. She did sleep better when she was sleeping on him.

Chapter Text

“The truth which has made us free will in the end make us glad also.” ~Felix Adler

Giles rubbed tired eyes and considered the ritual again. It had been four very long days since Buffy had disappeared, and he thought they might finally have the answer.

No one had known what to think when Buffy didn’t return from her patrol with Spike. Xander had immediately jumped to the conclusion that the vampire had something to do with her disappearance, but Giles hadn’t been so sure. The chip would have prevented Spike from harming her, and somehow Giles just didn’t think Spike was involved.

They’d done a sweep of the usual cemeteries, and had found a strange blue residue on the ground in one of them. It had taken a day and a half to identify the substance. Giles supposed that it only made sense that Buffy would get herself in trouble on a routine patrol. She did have a tendency to attract strange phenomena like a magnet. Who knew that she would get caught in the Andraseks’ annual ritual?

Well, Buffy and Spike, Giles was assuming, since the vampire hadn’t shown up on his own.

Not that anyone knew much about the ritual, only that it opened a portal, and no one who had gotten caught up in their magic had ever been seen again. That meant that Giles had to figure out where they had sent Buffy—something no one had seemed to know—and then he had to figure out how to get her back.

In the end, Giles had been forced to call Angel for his assistance. Angel had gone to speak with some oracle, who had given him the name of the dimension. Then, Giles had started calling in favors from everyone he knew who might be able to help him create a portal that would not only open in the right dimension, but would open where Buffy was located within the dimension.

It wouldn’t do him any good to create a door if his Slayer was on the other side of the world.

“I brought the supplies, Giles!” Willow announced, coming through his door, a paper sack in her arms. “Are we going to do the spell here?”

Giles nodded. “We’ll have to clear the room as much as possible. It might be better to have more space, but I don’t know where else to do this.”

“I think we’ll have enough room if we shove everything against the walls,” Willow replied, setting the bag down on his desk. “When are we doing this?”

“Immediately.” He put his glasses back on and straightened his shoulders. Giles didn’t want Willow to know how worried he was, knowing that other dimensions often had different timelines. They could get Buffy back moments after she had left for her—or it could have been years where she was.

Willow seemed to grasp that without him saying anything, however. “Time is of the essence, huh?”

“Yes. Precisely.”

They worked in harmony, quickly setting up the protective circle that would act as the portal. Giles didn’t want to admit that he was also more than a little concerned about something nasty coming out, but there was really nothing he could do about that other than to have a weapon at the ready. If all went as planned, they would have the Slayer back, and she would be able to take care of anything else that came through.

Assuming that all went well, that she was in one piece, that she was strong enough to fight.

“I think we’re ready,” Willow said.

Giles glanced at her. Dark circles made her eyes look bruised. He’d finally sent Xander home a few hours ago, knowing that the boy would be more of a hindrance than a help in a situation like this. Willow had worked tirelessly, however, and he knew it would have taken a lot longer to come up with a solution if she hadn’t been helping.

“Right. You might want to stand back, and take the crossbow.”

Her eyes widened, but Willow did as she was told, taking a firm grip on the weapon and backing up into a corner of the room. “Ready,” she squeaked out.

Giles began the chant, speaking the words with little difficulty. Languages had always come easily for him. So had magic, when you got right down to it. Not that he would ever be more than a petty sorcerer, but he had talents that the children didn’t know about.

He preferred to keep it that way.

The circle began to glow, pulsing with light, and Giles could feel the power begin to move through him. He kept his voice steady with some effort, looking at the stuffed pig that sat in the middle of the circle. The general idea was that the personal item would allow the portal to open near the Slayer’s location in the other dimension.

Blue fire streaked the air, and Giles could feel the wind rush past his face. He shut his eyes against the glare and wind, continuing with the spell from memory, shouting out the last word.

The wind and light both died suddenly, and he opened his eyes to see both Buffy and Spike crouched in the center of the circle. Giles only had eyes for Buffy, though, and he quickly assessed her condition, trying to determine if she was hurt.

She was dirty, her clothing was torn and stained, but when she straightened, Giles could see grace and strength in her movements. Physically, at least, she was fine.

He also noted that Buffy’s first concern was obviously for Spike, because her eyes sought the vampire before she even glanced at him. “Spike?”

“I’m good,” he replied, standing.

They were both thinner, Giles saw. Thinner, and somehow wilder—both of them. There was an almost feral light in Buffy’s eyes that he didn’t remember ever seeing before.

“Buffy!” The cry came from Willow as she flung the crossbow aside and went to embrace her friend. “Are you okay? I’m sorry it took us a few days to figure out how to get you back. Giles and I have been working on it non-stop, I promise. Are you really okay?”

“I’m fine,” Buffy said absently, looking at Giles. “A few days?”

“It’s been four days,” he acknowledged. “How long for you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Spike?”

“Longer than that. Weeks? Months?”

Giles watched their easy exchange, the way they seemed so attuned to one another, and he wondered what had happened. Obviously, quite a bit had changed. “Are you well, Buffy?”

“I’m good,” she said. “Really. Although, I could murder a hamburger. Food was a little scarce where we were.”

“I’ll call Xander,” Willow offered. “I know he’ll want to see you, too.”

Giles didn’t miss the way both Spike and Buffy seemed to stiffen at that. “Yeah, sure, although I don’t know if I’m up for a big reunion scene right now. I really need to get into some different clothes.”

“You got any blood in the fridge?” Spike asked.

“Of course, Spike,” Giles said. “Go ahead.”

Spike and Buffy shared a long look. “Think I’ll take off after that.”

“If you want,” Buffy replied.

“Don’t want to be here when Harris shows up.”

“Okay.”

Giles waited until Spike was in the kitchen, heating up his blood, before pulling Buffy aside. Willow was still on the phone with Xander, giving him explicit instructions on what kinds of food would be best to bring. “You’re going to let Spike go?”

“He can’t hurt anyone, Giles,” Buffy said quietly. “He should be able to make his own choices on where to live.”

“What happened, Buffy?”

“Spike kept me alive, Giles,” she said. “That’s what happened.”

“I’m off.” Spike was staring at her, his expression inscrutable.

Buffy pulled away from her Watcher. “Okay. I’ll see you?”

“Soon. Promise.”

With that, Spike was gone, and Giles saw how his Slayer’s eyes stayed on the door. “You two seem to have reached a truce.”

“We had to,” Buffy said simply. Then she looked at Giles, and a little of the girl he knew came back into her eyes. “So, how bad do I look?”

Giles smiled and spoke the truth. “You look wonderful.” And with that, he did what he’d wanted to do since she appeared, and pulled her into his arms.

~~~~~

Buffy stared at the ceiling. It had been two days since she had seen Spike, and she missed him horribly. She supposed it only made sense since they hadn’t spent more than five minutes apart over the last few weeks. Even after the truth spell had worn off, their conversations had been more honest than any Buffy had had with anyone.

She’d known immediately when the spell had worn off. They had been curled up in the cavern she’d come to think of as “theirs,” under his duster for warmth. Not that she had really needed the warmth. Buffy knew she would have been fine without it, but she wouldn’t have been as comfortable.

“Did you hate the spell that much?” she had asked him.

“Which one, pet?”

“The one Willow did. You know which one.”

“I—” Spike had stiffened behind her. “Yeah, bloody awful, it was.”

Buffy had known in that moment that he was lying to her, and she’d started to pull away, only to have Spike tug her closer. “No, I didn’t hate it,” he murmured in her ear. “Hated when it was gone. Felt like I’d lost something big.”

“Me too,” Buffy had replied.

She thought that exchange had occurred about three days into their stay, but she couldn’t be sure. The days had begun to run together so that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. Neither of them had a watch, and after a while, Buffy had realized that she didn’t even know how long they had been there, how long they had been underground.

It was strange to realize that she hadn’t even missed the sun.

When she had asked, Spike had said, “Don’t know how long it’s been. Probably should have been keeping track somehow, but it didn’t seem all that important.”

Buffy swallowed hard. It had been so easy there. There was only her and Spike and staying alive somehow. Her friends, her Watcher, none of them had been there. It hadn’t even really mattered that Spike was a vampire, except that it meant she didn’t have to worry quite so much about him. Buffy could trust him to pull his own weight, and even hers on occasion.

She had missed her friends, of course, and her mom and Giles and showers and real food—but it hadn’t been such a horrible place to be.

Now they were back in the real world, where it mattered that she was the Slayer and Spike was a vampire. Where they couldn’t be together, because it didn’t work that way here.

Not that they were together. At all. Except that they had been, every day.

She missed him. So much.

“Buffy?”

Willow’s voice breached the darkness, and Buffy winced. “Sorry, Will,” she whispered. “Am I keeping you up?”

The lamp flicked on. “It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep.” Willow’s concern was evident on her face. “Are you okay? You’ve been…” She trailed off. “You haven’t said much about what happened.”

“That’s because there isn’t much to say,” Buffy replied. “It was just Spike and me, underground, trying not to get eaten.”

Willow sat up, tugging her comforter up around her shoulders. “Was it bad? With Spike?”

“Strangely not,” Buffy said. “He’s actually a pretty handy guy to have around when you need to rough it.”

“Then what’s wrong, Buffy?” Willow asked.

How could Buffy tell her? How could she explain what it had been like to feel, for just a few weeks, that everything was so incredibly easy? Hard, too. There had never been enough to eat, and the bathroom facilities sucked, but it had all been so clear.

There was living, and there was dying. And there had been nothing in between.

“It’s different here, Willow,” Buffy said with a sigh. “It was—it was like taking a really long vacation from my life, and now I just have to get back into the swing of things. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Willow said. “But if you want to talk…”

“I know,” Buffy replied.

But Willow wasn’t the one she wanted to talk to.

~~~~~

Spike had found a cozy little crypt with easy access to the tunnels. It was perfect for his needs, although he couldn’t help but wonder if his needs hadn’t changed a bit. He couldn’t help but wonder what Buffy would say, and whether there was any way he could ask her to come here.

Not that she would now that they were back in Sunnydale.

On the off chance that things wouldn’t change, however, Spike had done his poor best to make the crypt comfortable. He’d done this sort of thing for Dru before, and even for Harmony. Spike could survive with very few creature comforts, but he’d do anything for the woman he loved.

Yeah. He could admit it. Spike, Slayer of Slayers, was in love with the Slayer. He could see the irony.

It had hit him out of the blue. They’d been foraging as best they could, relying on Spike’s sense of direction to navigate the dark corridors between the well-lit caverns. They had remained in the first one, even though they’d gradually had to go further and further to hunt for food. On one expedition, they’d managed to find a grove of trees.

Spike had nearly been struck dumb by the strange beauty of that place. Buffy had slipped her hand into his as they had stopped to drink it in silently.

They should have been paying more attention, because it only made sense that in a place like that there would be other living creatures. The thing that had attacked them bore a passing resemblance to a big cat, although the jaw had been all wrong for that. Spike had instinctively put himself in front of Buffy, and it had gone straight for his jugular.

Not that it could have killed him, but getting your throat chewed on was never comfortable.

Buffy had been on its back in the next moment, almost snarling as she wrapped her arms around its thick neck. Spike had gripped it by the muzzle, trying to prevent it from going anywhere while the Slayer broke its neck.

It had finally gone limp on top of him, and Buffy had wrestled the creature’s body off of him, ordering him to stay still. Spike had obeyed, thinking that she had sensed some new danger. Instead, she had simply wanted to be sure he was unhurt before she allowed him to move.

“Are you okay?” She’d asked, running her hands over his arms and chest.

His duster had taken the worst of it, and Spike had smiled. “Just fine, luv. Don’t you worry about me.”

“I’ll worry about you if I want to,” she said. “Hold still. That thing cut your neck.”

That’s when it had hit him. He loved her, and he was seriously buggered.

Now they were back in Sunnydale, and it appeared as though everything was back to business as usual. Not that he’d expected anything different, of course. They’d been in a different world then. This was a real world. This was where they belonged.

Spike just didn’t know why he felt so out of place.

He turned over in his big bed, unable to sleep without the warmth of her body snuggled next to him.

Spike squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He was really, seriously buggered.

~~~~~

Buffy was daydreaming her way through the Scooby meeting. Giles was talking about some big threat, but he hadn’t yet said anything about how she was supposed to kill it. Once he got there, she’d pay attention, but for right now she was thinking about Spike and how she was going to find him so they could go kill the big threat together.

She missed that—killing things together. They’d gotten really good at it.

Okay, killing things and kissing. They were really good at that, too.

It had been the day after that first night they’d slept together, and Buffy had said, “You know, kissing is what got us into this mess.”

Spike had given her a sardonic look. “How so?”

“Well, we were kissing when the demons showed up,” she pointed out.

“Not sure where you’re going with this.”

“If kissing got us into this, maybe it will get us out.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” He gave her a dirty look. “Look, if you want to snog, say you want to snog, but don’t go giving me some stupid excuse for it.”

Buffy huffed. He always had to make things difficult. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Buffy knew he was telling the truth. The spell was still in effect. “Why don’t you know?”

“Because if you’re going to make up some excuse for why it’s so horrible, then I don’t really want to kiss you.”

“I have never said that it was horrible!” Buffy protested.

Spike looked her straight in the eye. “There isn’t a spell on us. This isn’t to prove some silly theory you’ve got about how the spell made you think you liked getting kissed by me. If we do this, it’ll be because we want it.”

“I want it.”

That’s all it had taken. They had kissed, and done some serious making out, but it hadn’t gone any further than that. Buffy knew that they would have had sex if Giles hadn’t brought them back when he did. Even now she couldn’t help but wonder how it would be.

She was pretty sure it would be good, if the kissing were any indication.

“Buffy!” Giles’ irritated tone told her that this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get her attention.

“Sorry,” she apologized, bringing her focus back to her Watcher. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you would be so kind as to—”

The door banged open and Spike marched in. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, his tone snide.

“What are you doing here?” Xander asked. “I thought we’d gotten rid of the Chipped Wonder.”

“Xander, don’t.”

Every eye was suddenly on Buffy. “What?” Xander asked, a little startled that she’d spoken up for the vampire with a barb that mild.

“Just don’t, Xander. Nobody thinks it’s funny,” Buffy said. “There’s no point to your baiting Spike.”

“There’s every point!” Xander objected. “He’s Spike!”

“He kept me alive,” Buffy replied. “So just drop it already.”

Xander actually looked a little chastened by that, and he slumped back down in his chair, muttering a little under his breath. Giles and Willow were both looking at her strangely, and Buffy stood. “What did you need to get, Spike?”

“The rest of my stuff.” He was looking at her again, and it was like it was just the two of them again. Like they were the only people in the world. “Few things. Shouldn’t take me long.”

“Do you want to help me kill something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Spike went about gathering his things, and Buffy turned back to her Watcher. “So what were you saying about killing this thing?”

“Uh, the usual means should do it,” Giles replied. “I was just saying that you might want company, but it appears that you have it.”

“We’re good.” Buffy gave her friends a bright smile, determinedly ignoring the way Willow was looking from her to Spike and back again with an alarmed expression on her face. They were probably going to freak when they realized that Spike wasn’t going anywhere, and that Buffy didn’t want him to.

“Be careful, Buffy,” Giles warned her.

She smiled. “Always.”

~~~~~

It was a relief to be out from among them, Spike thought. A relief to have Buffy on his right, a familiar presence that he’d missed over the last few days. The world felt crowded now, with more than just the two of them.

“I haven’t seen you,” Buffy commented.

“Didn’t know you’d want to,” he replied.

He heard her sigh. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Being back.”

“Yeah. It is, a bit.”

They walked in silence, the night air cool around them, the stars overhead shining brightly. Spike realized that he’d missed the stars, just like he would miss that strange, beautiful world where the colors were all wrong.

“What are we supposed to do now?”

Spike didn’t bother asking what she meant. He knew, and they had given up lying to one another. Even being back in Sunnydale didn’t change that. “I don’t know. Guess it’s back to normal, yeah?”

“You know what I miss most?” Buffy asked.

“No.”

“It being easy.” Buffy stopped, staring at him. “It was so easy, Spike. I wasn’t the Slayer, and you weren’t a vampire. It was just Spike and Buffy. Now it’s all different.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it have to be different?” Spike demanded. “We’re still us, aren’t we? Still fighting things that go bump in the night. We were a team.”

“We were a team,” Buffy emphasized. “Now—”

“We could be a team,” Spike insisted, cutting her off. “I could watch your back, keep you alive. That hasn’t changed. You still need someone watching your back.”

She shook her head, but he could see that she was weakening. “The chip—”

“The chip doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Spike nearly snarled. “What I feel for you.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. You had to bloody well see it,” Spike snapped.

“I didn’t know if it was just—” She stopped. “So what now?”

“What do you want me to say?” Spike asked her.

Buffy glanced away and then back at him, her green eyes luminous. “I want you to tell me the truth.”

“I want you. I can’t sleep without you there. And I want it to be like it was,” Spike said. “I want us to be…”

“An us?” Buffy took a deep breath. “So maybe now would be a good time to tell you that I missed you, too?”

His lips found hers, and it was all so simple, so real, so right. They wanted each other, they made a good team, and they watched each other’s backs.

Maybe it didn’t mean happily ever after, but it was pretty damn close.