Prologue

"The final tests are back. They don't know if she will ever walk again," Joyce told everyone, then promptly fell into one of the lime green chairs of the hospital's waiting room. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed; for her daughter, for the bruises that covered her and for the prognosis that would forever alter the course of her life. "And she still won't eat. Until she does, she has to stay here."

Giles would have moved to comfort her, but he was too busy trying to comprehend it all for himself. He walked away from the sobs and headed toward room four-eleven. Buffy's room. The place where she was resting as comfortably as could be expected. It was never meant to happen this way. She was stronger than any other Slayer he had read about and she was smart on her feet, not apt to make mistakes. Nevertheless, here she was, lying in a bed with an IV tube in her hand and an untouched meal on the tray in front of her. He sighed and lifted the lid on the tray. "Buffy, you need to eat."

"I won't walk again, will I?" She didn't look away from the window. Outside, rain beat hard against the glass, making it impossible to see anything, but she stared at it. "I can tell by how the nurses look at me and whisper to one another. My hearing is still fine, you know? I hear what they say. It's such a pity. She's so young. She won't have a life. They're right."

"You mustn't think like that," Giles told her, opening the carton of milk and sticking a straw into it. He held it out to her and slowly sat it back on the table when she made no move to take it. "You can't go home until you start eating."

"I don't want to go home," Buffy mumbled without inflection.

He lifted the plastic fork and knife and began sawing into the dried up piece of meat that the hospital liked to call pepper steak. "What would you like to do then? Stay here and be an invalid?"

"Why not? That's what I am, isn't it?"

"Certainly not. Think about your mother. She's been worried sick about you and you can go home as soon as you show them that you'll eat."

She turned to face him and shook her head. "Home? There are stairs in my home, Giles. My room is at the top of those stairs. I'm not going to crawl around like some kind of slug to get there and I'm not going to let my mother try to carry me. I don't want to go home."

Giles slammed the fork down and shoved the table out of the way. Gripping her shoulders, he forced her to look at him. "You are not going to give up. Do you hear me? You are a Slayer and if they say you can't walk again, then you show them that you will. You heal faster than anyone does, Buffy. A bone breaks and it's fine within days. You get a cut and it closes within hours. This will not beat you."

Buffy shoved him away angrily, ignoring the pain in her back. "You don't know anything. You aren't the one lying here telling your legs to move. You aren't the one who was slammed over a headstone so hard that it ruined your back. This didn't beat me, Giles. Those vampires that did this beat me."

"You're alive! They didn't beat you."

"I'm alive?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Where am I alive at, Giles? My spirit is dead, my soul is dead, my hope is dead and my legs are dead. Who cares if I can still breathe?"

"Buffy—."

"Get out."

"Buffy, please—"

Buffy reached for the table, grabbed her tray and threw it across the room, barely missing his head. "I said get out," she told him through clenched teeth as pain seared up her back. She only felt it from the waist up. From the waist down, there was nothing and she never wanted to feel pain more in her life.

Giles turned and walked out the door, bumping into a nurse who was rushing to see what the problem was. He heard the woman try to soothe Buffy, heard Buffy swear at her, and then he walked slowly down the hall. Nothing would be the same again.

Part One

Two Months Later

Buffy sat silently in her seat as Joyce drove her toward their house on Revello Drive. The smell of flowers was threatening to choke her and one of the balloons from the bouquet that Willow had brought her kept hitting her in the back of the head. It floated into the front seat and Buffy grabbed it, squeezing it with all of her strength. It popped and Joyce shrieked, yanking the steering wheel to the right and hitting a curb. Buffy dropped the ribbon that the balloon had been attached to and stared out at the road, not even flinching when Joyce barely missed hitting a speed limit sign.

Joyce clutched her chest as soon as she got the car under control. Her first instinct had been to shout at her daughter, but one look at her pale face and dark eyes had silenced her anger. Instead, she reached out and touched Buffy's hand. The girl jerked away as if she had been burned and crossed her arms. Undaunted, Joyce patted her leg and spoke softly. "I wasn't supposed to tell you this, but your friends are at the house. They want to throw you a surprise party."

"And you let them?" Buffy snapped, glaring at her mother briefly. "Thanks, I'm fucking thrilled to know that people will be there to gawk at me."

"You won't take that tone with me, Buffy, and you won't use that word in my presence."

"Whatever."

The rest of the drive was traveled in an uncomfortable silence that wasn't broken until Joyce turned into the driveway and Buffy groaned. There was a colorful banner hanging on the front porch and Xander and Giles were putting the finishing touches on a ramp that ran halfway down the sidewalk. As Buffy watched, the front door opened and Willow and Anya came rushing toward the passenger side. "Great. Just ... fucking ... great."

Joyce was already out of the vehicle, pulling the wheelchair from the backseat, but she heard and cleared her throat. "I meant what I said."

Buffy took her seatbelt off as Willow yanked the door open. "Hey, Buffy. It's so good to see you in street clothes. Those hospital gowns are so depressing."

"And you look good," Anya supplied, taking the blanket that Joyce held out.

Xander laid his hammer down and made his way to the vehicle. He exhaled tiredly, and brushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead. "We're not finished yet. I don't think it's safe to push her up the ramp. I'll just carry her in."

"Okay." Joyce closed the chair and lifted it, heading toward the stairs.

"Mom!" Buffy called angrily. "Hello? I think I should have some say. I don't want to be carried!"

Xander shook his head and reached into the car. "You're outvoted and out optioned."

Buffy closed her eyes as he hooked his arms under her legs and around her back. She couldn't bear to look at him. She couldn't bear to look at any of them and see the pain in their eyes and the pity that they tried to hide. Their Slayer was gone, replaced by the wisp of a girl who was being carried by her best friend ... carried instead of walking tall beside him, where she should be. She opened her eyes in time to see Giles and immediately looked away. He had stopped hammering and was watching her intently.

And his disappointment in her was written on his face.

Once inside, Joyce ushered Xander into the living room, where she had put blankets on the sofa. Buffy looked back, over his shoulder, at the stairs and her throat constricted. She used to run up and down them, taking them two at a time. Now she would be lucky to ever see the top floor of her house again. Xander put her on the sofa and pulled a blanket around her legs, then he patted her head. Buffy pushed his hand away angrily. "What am I, your puppy?"

"Sorry, Buffy. It's just good to see you home." Xander glanced at her, then at Willow, who motioned him to go outside. "Well, I'm going to go finish that ramp."

"I'm going to watch," Anya said quickly. "I bet he'll strip down to his wife beater before the day is done."

Rolling her eyes, Willow sat down in a chair beside the couch. "Some things never change."

"And some do," Buffy said, trying to shift into a more comfortable position.

"Do you need some help?" Willow got to her feet and reached for Buffy, offering her a hand to pull up on.

"Did I ask you for help?"

Willow stood upright quickly and then moved back to her chair. "I'm sorry."

"God, if one more person tells me that they're sorry, I'm going to scream."

"Buffy, it's just that—"

"That what? You're sorry you can walk? You're sorry I can't? You're sorry you weren't there to help me? You're sorry I'm a Slayer? Get over it, Willow. I don't care."

The redhead's chin quivered and she got to her feet, hurrying into the kitchen to help Joyce. Giles had tried to prepare them, going so far as to rent a video about dealing with paralysis victims. Buffy's attitude wasn't rare. It was actually common and Willow couldn't hold it against her. It didn't make it hurt less though. As she stepped into the kitchen, she saw Joyce leaning against the refrigerator, sobbing softly. "Miss Summers?"

"Oh, Willow!" Joyce dabbed at her eyes with a paper towel and tossed it in the trash. "Does Buffy need something?"

"I think she's doing better than you are." Willow crossed the small distance and gave the woman's hand a squeeze. "Have you told her yet?"

"No." Joyce patted the younger girl's back and then stepped away, busying herself at the coffee pot. "How do I tell my child that I can't afford the kind of care that she needs? How do I tell her that insurance won't pay for someone and I can't quit my job or we'll lose what little the insurance does cover?"

"Well, the offer still stands, Miss Summers. I can take a semester off from school and take care of her while you work and travel for the gallery."

"No, Willow. Buffy's a handful. You've seen how she is coping with this."

"I love her. I think I can handle it."

"It's out of the question, honey. You're only nineteen and you have studies and a life to live. I'll think of something."

"What about Giles?" Willow pulled one of the stools away from the island and clasped her hands. "I know he offered to help."

"He has a new business to maintain. If it folded, he would lose everything." Joyce poured herself a cup of coffee and pulled a soda from the refrigerator for Willow. "I don't know what to do."

"Xander would do it if he and Anya weren't together. You know how jealous she is of Buffy and how Xander used to feel about her."

"I know. I wouldn't allow him to put his life on hold either. You've all been such good friends for Buffy." Joyce blew her coffee and took a small sip. "I'll call some agencies and see if I can find some cheaper nurses. Until then, I'll just have to take the time off. Maybe Hank will pitch in."

"Why would he? He didn't even come to see her. This is so awful." Willow took a small drink of her soda and burst out crying. She glanced nervously toward the living room and stood, walking out the back door until she could collect herself.

Joyce walked into the living room and glanced at Buffy. She was sleeping peacefully on her back, one arm thrown aimlessly off the sofa and the other over her head. Asleep, she looked young and vibrant. It was only when she was awake that you could see how dead and vacant her eyes were. Her legs weren't the only things taken from her ... her will to live was gone as well. Joyce pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled the cover up over her.

There had to be an answer somewhere.

♥

"Spike." Giles bumped into the vampire when he walked into his house. "What are you doing in my house?"

"You didn't uninvite me." Spike said with a shrug, then flopped down on the sofa. "And there's a movie on I've wanted to see for months."

Giles glanced at his television and his eyes widened. "You ordered pay per view?"

"Is that what it's called?"

"Did you pay for it?"

"No, you did." Spike lifted a credit card off the table and held it over his head.

Giles snatched it and grabbed his wallet, shoving the card in one of the empty slots. "How did you find this? I only use this for emergencies."

"This was an emergency." Spike shrugged and lay back, stretching out like a content kitten. "Angelina Jolie gets bare assed naked in this movie. That's an emergency."

Giles shoved his wallet back into his pocket and stalked into the kitchen. He frowned when he yanked the refrigerator door open and several bags of blood fell out. "Spike, why is there blood all over the place?"

"It's not all over the place, mate. It's in your refrigerator. Put it back if that's what I heard hit the floor. It doesn't grow on trees you know."

Giles hefted one of the bags and stomped back into the living room. He tossed it, smacking Spike on the side of the head. "You have a home now. Go there."

Spike grabbed the blood bag and bit into it, ignoring the sounds of disgust that came from Giles. He drained it, fired off a belch and glanced up at the man. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"These vampires I knew way back when have taken to stalking me. They go into my crypt and break things, rough me up and threaten me, then they rough me up some more."

"Why don't they just kill you?"

Spike's eyes widened. "You'd like that wouldn't you? They're keeping me alive because they have this crazy notion that I would make a great gopher. They plan on beating me into being their minion and to hell with that!"

"And why don't you fight back?" Giles perched on the arm of his recliner and scratched the side of his face. "You can defend yourself against demons."

"I can't, okay?" Spike motioned him away and looked at the television again. "Now leave me alone."

"Why can't you fight back, Spike?"

"Because if I do, then I'll be on every demon's hit list that comes to this town. These vampires are connected. They have their finger in everything."

"So what are you going to do?"

Spike shrugged, then hollered at the television when the dark haired Angelina Jolie graced the screen. "I'm thinking I'll stay here. At least until this mess blows over and they find someone new to pick on."

"Oh, christ!" Giles went back into the kitchen and fumbled around for an icepack. His head was already aching from all the hammering he had done that day. Spike being there was just enough to add insult to injury.

"Hey, Giles?"

"What, Spike?"

"How's the Slayer doing?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious." Spike replied, muting the television with the remote. "Word on the street is, she got it pretty bad."

Giles came into the living room and dropped into his chair, placing the icepack over his eyes. "Word on the street is right. She's in a wheelchair."

"Broken legs?" The blond asked, studying the man intently.

"You could say that." Giles lifted his head and glanced at the television when a woman shrieked loudly. "She's in the chair indefinitely because some vampires injured her spine severely. They don't know if she'll walk again."

"Bloody hell!" Spike shook his head and picked at his torn jeans. "She's paralyzed?"

"Yes."

"Forever?" He glanced up at Giles.

"We don't know." Giles moved the icepack and glared at Spike. "Why? Do you want to laugh now?"

"The vampires who did it to her are the ones after me too. They were bragging about it to me. They didn't know they had paralyzed her, but they knew she was hurt. If the Scooby Gang hadn't shown up when they did, they were going to turn her."

Giles swore softly and put the icepack back over his eyes. "She's not handling it well."

"I didn't either when I was crippled." Spike grinned when a woman on the television was brutally shot and killed. "I wanted to take it out on everyone. I wanted to cripple everyone and make them all feel what I felt. No one knows what it's like to be confined to a wheelchair until it happens to them. You're mad and you're pathetic and you can't help it."

Giles listened carefully to every word the vampire was saying. Spike had been crippled for months. He had been exactly where Buffy was emotionally and was describing everything the Slayer must be feeling. An idea began to form in the back of his mind. The vampire needed a place to stay. Somewhere safe and private, where the other demons would not find him. Joyce needed someone to look after Buffy when she was working or had to go out of town for her gallery. Spike was harmless, unable to bite anyone and unable to hit anyone. It had potential.

It had the possibility of Buffy staking the annoying vampire. She could still use her hands, after all.

"Spike, I have a proposition for you." Giles leaned forward and put his icepack on the coffee table.

"Look, I know that this movie is dead sexy and stuff, but I'm not that kind of man. Thanks anyway. I'm flattered."

"Not that kind of proposition, you stupid blighter." Giles reached toward the television and flipped it off. "Another one. I think we may be able to help one another out."

♥

"Absolutely not!" Buffy shouted, rolling her wheelchair around the couch and toward the kitchen. "I would rather die!"

Joyce glanced at Giles, then followed Buffy through the house. "It's only for a few hours a day. Spike will stay in the basement and only come out to make sure you're comfortable and have breakfast and lunch. I'll take care of everything else, honey."

"No!" Buffy bumped the island in the middle of the floor, bounced back, and found herself stuck between the stove and the sink. She swore loudly, yanked her wheels back and almost flipped, causing Giles to jump forward and grab her. "I don't need your help!" She cried, grabbing a glass from the dish drainer. She rolled to the sink, locked her wheels and leaned forward, struggling to fill her glass.

Giles watched her for a few painful seconds and moved forward again. He was pushed aside by Spike, who had been listening from the doorway of the basement. The vampire unlocked Buffy's wheels, rolled her away and snatched the glass, filling it with cool water. He held it out, waiting patiently for her to take it.

Buffy smiled gratefully at the blond, took the glass, then threw it at him, hitting him square in the chest with it. Spike caught the plastic glass before it could hit the floor. He filled it under the tap, smiled down at her and did the same to her, soaking her t-shirt. Astonished, Buffy could only stare down at her soaked body.

Spike filled the glass again and sat it on the countertop. "If you get thirsty enough, there it is. If you throw this out, you can just suck on your shirt to keep from dehydrating." He turned to look at Joyce and nodded at her. "The basement is fine, Joyce. Thank you for the fresh linens and the refrigerator." He turned his gaze back to Buffy. "I think this is going to work out just fine."

Buffy watched him walk out of the room and down the stairs and shook her head. "You can't leave me with him! He'll kill me!"

"He can't harm the living, Buffy," Giles replied, trying to give her a hand towel to dry her face with.

Snatching the towel, she threw it on the floor. "You think that stops him from striking a match and setting the house on fire?"

"He needs a place to live as much as you need someone to look after you." Joyce told her, picking up the towel and wiping at her daughter's face.

"I don't need anyone!" Buffy cried, wheeling backwards and successfully maneuvering around the island. "You saw what he did to me! He's only here to make fun of me!"

"He's staying," Joyce replied, using the 'mother-tone' that she had not used since Buffy was injured. "And I won't hear another word about it. Do you understand?"

"Fine." Buffy spoke through clenched teeth. "But whatever he does to me is on your conscience, Mother!"

Giles could only shake his head as she rolled out of the room. A few minutes later, he heard the television come on and he moved to lay a hand on Joyce's arm. "Perhaps you should explain the financial situation to her. Perhaps if she knew, she would be more cooperative."

"She knows. I told her everything." Joyce sat at the table and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "If it's possible, I think it made her hate me more. For failing to keep her safe, for failing to provide what she needs, for failing to keep her family together."

"She doesn't hate you." Giles poured two cups of coffee and sat one in front of her before he pulled out a chair. "Buffy has always been self sufficient, Joyce. She has been stripped of who she was and what she was capable of. Imagine that. Imagine how hard it must be to go from being stronger than five men, to being as needy as a newborn."

Spike poked his head out of the basement suddenly. "Whoa, newborn? Is she wearing those adult diapers? I don't change diapers."

"No." Joyce motioned for Spike to join them. As soon as the vampire was seated, she spoke again. "Buffy isn't completely helpless or reliant on others. She can still use the restroom, but you'll have to wait outside in case she falls. I had rails installed and she's got great upper body strength, so she can get around in there and take care of her business."

"Oh. Good, cause I'd hate to have to quit on the first day."

"You should get fired after what you did!" Giles snapped, then lowered his voice. "I better not hear that you are being mean to her."

The vampire pointed at the front of his soaked shirt. "Hey, if she can still dish it, she can still take it. I don't plan on letting her run over me. If I don't make that clear right off the bat, she'll won't let me help her." Spike glanced at Giles and then toward the living room. "Great upper body strength, huh? Have you made sure that it's a stake free zone around here?"

Part Two

Joyce lifted Buffy from the tub and sat her on the towel that was spread over the toilet. Buffy quickly pulled the edges over her lap and grabbed another towel from the sink, wrapping it over her hair. "I can do it myself."

"I want to help you, Buffy," Joyce said softly and lifted a third towel, rubbing down her daughter's feet and legs. That was the first time that Buffy had spoken to her since the Spike fiasco in the kitchen and the silence was beginning to ache. Her hands were tied as far as work and taking care of Buffy was concerned and she had no other options. And it had pushed her even further away.

Cringing, Buffy swallowed her pride and allowed her mother to dry her off. She blushed slightly when her mother kneeled before her and lifted her feet, putting them into her panties. Joyce urged her to put her arms around her and pulled her upward, sliding her panties into place. Buffy felt tears of humiliation burning behind her eyelids as Joyce lifted her nightgown, slipped it over her head and then picked her up and moved to put her in her wheelchair.

Holding Buffy firmly around the waist, Joyce paused before she sat her in the seat, enjoying the only physical contact Buffy allowed her to have since she had been injured. This was as close to a hug as she was allowed. "When you were little, I had to beg you to take a bath. Your grandma let you watch Jaws and you were convinced that a shark was in the tub."

Buffy had her arms around her mom's neck and she relaxed a little. "I remember. You used to promise to make me popcorn if I would let you wash my hair."

"If I offered to make you popcorn, would you quit giving me the silent treatment?"

"If you tell me that you're going to get rid of Spike, I'll-"

"I can't do that, Buffy." Placing her in her chair, Joyce stood and ran her hands through her hair. "Do you understand that I have to work to provide for us and keep our insurance? As it stands, the parts that the insurance didn't pay are through the roof. There is no one else and Spike can't hurt you."

"Can't hurt me?" Buffy narrowed her eyes. "He can damn well drive me crazy though! I hate him!"

"My hands are tied. I'm out of options."

"Well, one day when you come home to find me hog tied with a million railroad spikes through me, you'll realize how many other options there were." Buffy wheeled herself out of the bathroom and down the short hallway into the living room.

Spike was folding up the blankets that constituted her bed on the sofa and he turned to look at her. "Your mom said for me to carry you upstairs. I'll bring you back down when she leaves tomorrow."

"I don't want to go upstairs," Buffy replied, grabbing the blankets he had folded and tossing them to the floor. "I want to sleep here."

"Pick those back up," Spike told her, sitting on the arm of the sofa and crossing his arms.

She lifted her chin defiantly and stared at him. His cheekbones caught her attention as he ground his teeth back and forth and she was struck, not for the first time, by how good looking he was. His black t-shirt clung to his chest and she rolled her eyes, willing herself not to go there. Ever since Willow had done the marriage spell, she had found herself 'going there' more and more. Especially since she had been injured and had nothing but time on her hands. "You pick them up."

"I didn't throw them in the floor. And don't you roll your eyes at me, Slayer!"

"Put them back on the couch, Spike. I'm sleeping here."

Spike got to his feet when he noticed Joyce in the doorway. She was listening intently to them and he shook his head slightly, telling her not to intervene. "I'll tell you what, Slayer. I'm going to go into the kitchen and see about my dinner. If you want to sleep here, you remake the bed. If you don't, I'll carry you upstairs."

"My bed was already made here, asshole. Remake it!" Buffy cried, grabbing a knickknack off the table. She drew it back to toss at him, but he caught her wrist and twisted, forcing her to drop it. "You bastard!"

"Let's get something clear right now. You don't give me orders. You don't throw things at me and you don't treat me like you do the other people around you because I'm not going to take it like they do. I'm going to give as good as I get, Buffy."

"My mom won't allow you to mistreat me."

"Your mom won't allow you to mistreat Spike either," Joyce replied, coming into the room all the way. "This has to work out, Buffy. It has to."

Spike took Joyce's elbow and led her toward the kitchen. "Don't worry, Joyce. It's going to work out. I've been putting up with her venom for a while now. I'm immune."

"We'll see about that!" Buffy shouted. She rolled toward the sheets on the coffee table and pushed the table out of the way. Rolling back and forth in front of the sofa, she smoothed the sheets in place and then retrieved the blankets. Once her makeshift bed was back in order, she pulled herself out of the chair and struggled to get her legs up onto the couch. After several attempts, she finally won the war and flopped back, totally out of breath.

Spike watched from the doorway and applauded noisily. He walked into the room and leaned over the back of the couch, smiling down at her. "Now, was it worth it? You went to all that trouble to keep me from taking you up the stairs for nothing. You didn't hurt me at all and all you succeeded in proving is that you can do more for yourself than I thought."

"Piss off," Buffy growled, rolling away from him. She almost rolled off the sofa and he caught her, pulling her back in place with one arm. "Get off me."

"Joyce wants to know if you want a snack."

"I want you to go to hell."

"Sorry, ducks. Free cable television, warm shelter, a nice lady who can actually carry on a conversation and you to keep me entertained. I think I' ll stay here. Hell can wait."

Buffy glared at him for a few long seconds, then turned toward the television. The remote control was lying on the coffee table, quite a few feet away. "Get me the remote, Spike."

"What was that?" He had leaned over the couch again and was watching her closely. "Did you want to ­ask- me to do something for you?"

"I said get me the remote." Buffy sighed and waved toward it. "It's all the way over there."

"And over there is where it will stay unless you rephrase." He smiled sweetly when she glared up at him. "You decide."

"Spike, Roswell is going to be on in three minutes!"

"So?"

Buffy swallowed her pride and glanced back at the remote. "Will you please get the remote control and give it to me?"

Spike nodded and made his way around the sofa. He grabbed the remote and handed it to her. "God forbid you should miss Max and Liz acting out the Buffy and Angel torment hour."

"Hey!" Buffy growled, turning on the television. "We did not brood and mope all over the place. And we didn't fight it and whine so much."

"Yeah, you keep believing that." Spike raised his eyebrows and flopped into the recliner near the couch, throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically. In a high pitched voice, he wailed, "Oh, Angel, you are so dashing in your leather and the envy of every other hormonal teen girl in the Bronze and you're mine, mine, mine." Then he sat up and exhaled, looking pained. "Oh, Buffy, my heart, my soul, my loins ache for you, but no, we have to fight it. We can't give in." He leaned back again and whimpered, "But, but, Angel, my forbidden fruit, my demon boytoy, who will I shag now?" Sitting up, he looked pained again. "Please, Buffy, don't mention that to me. Don't remind me of what I can't do. Remain celibate, Buffy. If nothing else, let our one night teach you that sex is evil and bad. And it messes up your hair." Spike stood and bowed, "Ta-da."

Buffy watched him for a second, too stunned to say a word. When he fell back into the chair and stared at the television, she cleared her throat. "What the hell are you doing?"

"The cable isn't working in the basement yet." He shrugged.

"Oh, wonderful. I have to put up with you at night now too?"

"Sod off, it's starting." Spike waved his hand at her, silencing her, and leaned his head back.

Buffy frowned, but focused on the television instead of him. Instead of his blond hair, his smooth skin and piercing blue eyes. No matter how many comments he made or how many opinions he had about where the show was heading, she did not reply. By the time the show ended, she had no clue what had happened, but she did know that Spike was going to be an interesting installment in the house. Maybe it was the medication, maybe it was the fact that he was so annoying or maybe it was the fact that he stood up to her without a moment's hesitation.

Whatever it was had her attention.

And she hated it.

♥

Cool air blasted her in the face and Buffy propped herself on one elbow, glancing over the arm of the sofa in time to see her mother close the front door behind her. She blinked several times, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and looked at the clock. It was after eight. Five months ago, she would have been walking to her first class of the day at UC-Sunnydale. Willow would be beside her, probably quizzing her on the content for a test and Buffy would have been half listening and half contemplating her hair and wardrobe.

Five months ago, she would have gotten up on her own, walked to the bathroom and taken care of her business. Now she had to roll there. Reaching for her chair, she pulled it as close as she could, locked the wheels and crawled up into it. Her legs made a disgusting dragging sound and Buffy squeezed her eyes closed, unable to look back at them dangling behind her. After several attempts, and almost tipping her chair over, she made it in and rolled down the hallway.

Her mother had safety rails installed in the bathroom and with her extra strength, Buffy had no trouble hefting herself out of the chair. She used the restroom quickly, then moved back to her chair. As she fumbled for her toothbrush and cup of water, she stared at her reflection. Her hair needed to be bleached again. There were dark roots at least two inches long and she could use a trim. Her features were sunken and her eyes appeared to bulge, contrasted against the pale skin and dark bags that had become commonplace on her face.

She brushed her teeth and studied her reflection again. Her shirt was pulled to one side, twisted from her attempts to get into her chair and her collarbone protruded grotesquely, threatening to break through her thin layer of skin. Glancing downward, she lifted the front of her shirt and stared at her stomach. It shocked her to see her ribs so visible and her stomach curving inward. It had been five months since she had seen herself nude or really looked at herself in a mirror.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed water on the mirror, momentarily blurring her image and giving her a chance to escape without seeing it again. She rolled back down the hallway and into the kitchen. Her mother had moved most of the snack food to the lower cabinets and Buffy opened and closed several, looking for pop tarts. She found an empty box and tossed it across the room and into the trash, when Spike cleared his throat behind her.

"You're supposed to wake me up," he said, walking into the kitchen. His hair was sticking out everywhere, he had no shoes on and he pulled a light blue T-shirt over his naked chest as she watched. It matched his boxer shorts, which depicted beach scenes.

"Nice ensemble," Buffy said, not bothering to stifle her giggle.

Spike ignored her and pushed her out of the way. "What do you want. Eggs? Toast? I can probably even make an omelet."

"Pop Tarts are fine," Buffy replied, wheeling around to watch him sort through the cabinets. She studied his back, drinking in the cool muscular lines that she had never been able to see under his coat. Her gaze lowered, roaming the curve of his backside and then the toned muscles of his legs. When they had made out, under the marriage spell that neither spoke of, she had been shocked to feel how hard his body was. Now, she was seeing it for the first time and it was causing her to replay that night in her head. He was a really good kisser. Really good.

"Slayer?" Spike asked for the third time. "What the hell are you looking at?"

"Oh, uh, your boxers. I was wondering why a vampire would wear underwear with beachballs, sandcastles and a big yellow sun." She spoke rapidly, blushing a little. She couldn't possibly tell him that she was admiring his body. "Oh, that's right, you aren't a vampire anymore."

"I stole them from Giles and yes, I am a vampire. It's probably a good thing you're no longer a Slayer, right? I might be in trouble if you were." Spike shrugged when she didn't reply and grabbed a box of oatmeal from the pantry. "You like this, yes?"

"No, not really."

"Today you do. This can't be that hard."

Buffy sighed and rolled away, making her way to the living room again. She busied herself with flipping through the TV Guide and listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen. Pots and pans banged, his bare feet slapped back and forth on the linoleum and it was accentuated by a swear word every few minutes, usually followed by 'Slayer' or her name. She grinned, wondering how this had become her life and how she could find it funny that a vampire was cursing her name.

The smell of something burning assaulted her senses and she frowned. The smoke detector went off suddenly and she jumped, tossing the TV Guide onto the sofa. She rolled herself into the kitchen quickly and stared at the smoke boiling from the pan on the stove. Trying not to giggle, Buffy watched Spike fan the smoke out of the way and climb into a chair to yank the battery out of the smoke detector. She lost the battle and snorted when his boxer shorts fell low, exposing half of his ass.

"Laugh not, Slayer." Spike ignored his boxers as he stepped off the chair and lifted the pot off the burner of the stove. He lifted the lid, slammed it back on quickly and shuddered. "You're the one eating it, not me."

Still chuckling, Buffy shook her head. "Even a Slayer can't digest rocks. What did you do to it?"

"I cooked it." Spike picked up the box of oatmeal and shook it. "This is instant, right?"

"Did you add enough water?" Buffy lifted the lid herself and craned her neck to peek over the rim. As soon as she did, she slammed it back on tightly. "Why is it black?"

"I was supposed to use water?" He grinned sheepishly. "I thought since you like chocolate milk so much, you'd like the flavor."

Buffy wrinkled her nose and shook her head in disbelief. "You boiled oatmeal in chocolate MILK?" And how did he know she loved chocolate milk?

"What do I know? My food usually comes in O positive! Or it used to, back in the day." Spike glanced at Buffy pointedly. "It burned anyway, so now what?"

"I'm not hungry," Buffy replied, clutching her wheels and propelling herself forward. Despite how cute he was in his morning wear, he was still an asshole.

"Not so fast." He caught her chair and blocked her, not letting her through the door. "I have a job to do here. I intend to do it well. Now, you're supposed to eat twice a day and stay out of trouble until your mom gets home. You're going to do just that."

"You can't make me do a damn thing." Buffy tried to roll past him, but he gripped the chair tighter and locked the wheels. She struggled, trying to push him away, but he pinned her wrists to the arms of the chair. "Let me go!" With all of her might, she tried to will her legs to kick him, to lash out in any way possible, but they didn't comply.

Spike waited until she stopped struggling and shook his head. "See there? If you would eat a decent meal every now and then, you might have a little strength. As it is, you couldn't fight off a newborn baby."

"I hate you," she growled through clenched teeth.

He winked at her. "And you can't do a thing about it."

Using every ounce of her strength, she wrenched an arm free and let her fist fly. He caught it right before it connected with his jaw and held it firm. She shrieked again, yanking on her arm and said, "You just wait until I tell my mother about this."

"About what? Me trying to feed your bony ass? Or about how you wouldn't cooperate with a damn thing?"

Buffy pulled her arm loose and shoved him away, barely causing him to move an inch. "I hate you!" She screamed again, her voice breaking this time. "I hate you so much it kills me."

Spike stood and stared down at her. "No. What's killing you is the fact that you can't walk. Now, roll on out of here and let me clean up this mess."

"I hope the blind falls off the window and you fry." She rolled away fast so he wouldn't see the hot tears that were blinding her.

Spike waited until she was out of earshot and glanced at the dirty pans on the stove. "Fry? Hmm. Maybe that's easier than boiling."

♥

Buffy's stomach growled loudly and she clenched her jaw, hoping that Spike had not heard it. It was almost four in the afternoon and she had not eaten or had anything to drink for the entire day. A glass of cola sat on the coffee table; condensation making a million beads of water roll off the sides. She eyed it for several seconds, then looked at the sandwich that was beside it on a plate. He had given her eggs and toast that morning after the oatmeal fiasco and had taken it away, untouched, at noon. He replaced it with a ham and cheese sandwich at one-thirty, then flopped into the recliner beside the sofa and stayed there, staring at her intently.

"Why don't you watch television instead of me?" Buffy asked finally, tired of having to concentrate on the carpet or the walls to keep from looking at him. The remote control was on the table beside his chair and she wasn't itching to get close enough to him to retrieve it.

"Because, watching you wallow in self pity and starve is far more interesting to me than what's on the telly at this time of day." He leaned forward and pushed the plate of food toward her. "And you're more fun to listen to, with the stomach noises and all, but I'm pretty tired of hearing it now, so why don't you eat?"

Her stomach rumbled again and she looked away, glancing at the clock on the wall. Her mother wouldn't be home for at least another hour. "I would rather faint from dehydration than touch anything you make for me."

"Is that right?" Spike leaned back in the chair and shrugged. "Fine. Could you hurry and faint though? You might fall out of your chair and I could use a good belly laugh at your expense."

Buffy bit her lip and backed her chair up, rolling it around the sofa and out the door. She rolled into the bathroom, pulled herself up on one of the rails and moved to sit on the toilet. As she turned, she saw him leaning against the hallway wall, watching her closely, and she shoved her chair back through the door and slammed it. For several seconds, she didn't move, and then she pulled herself up beside the sink and turned the water on. It was hard to support her weight with one arm, but she was finally able to wrap one arm behind the faucet and bring handfuls of water to her mouth.

Spike pushed her chair, which had toppled onto its side, toward the door and knocked lightly. "Your chair is right here when you're finished, okay?"

"Go away," Buffy called, letting herself drop down to the floor and scooting back to lean against the tub. "I'm not coming out until my mother gets home."

"That could be a while. She said she had a lot to do today," Spike replied and moved around to sit in her chair, ready to wait her out. The minute he sat down, he was taken back to a place that he didn't want to go to. The minute he felt the soft seat mold around him, felt the leg supports behind his calves and laid his hands on the wheels, he was repulsed. He stood quickly and ran his hand over his face. "Come on out now, Slayer. Your mom told me not to let you sit in your chair all day."

"I'm not in my chair, freak."

"If I have to take the hinges off of the door, I will." Spike ran a hand over the hinges and nodded. "It wouldn't be hard. It would only take me a couple of minutes."

"You wouldn't dare," Buffy snapped. "I am a woman and I need privacy and if you just broke in here-," She heard him click something that sounded like a pocket knife, then heard loud squeaking as he began to work the bottom hinge loose. "Spike!"

"Just a minute, Slayer, and you can talk to my face."

"Just turn the fucking door knob," she shouted, throwing her hands in the air. She waited until he swung the door open and then she shook her head. "You're not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?"

"Your mouth is getting too big for your muzzle," Spike told her, and leaned to pick her up. "Why are you on the floor?"

"If ignorance is bliss, you must be orgasmic." Buffy shook her head and pushed his hand away. "Where else should I be? Standing in the shower? Standing at the sink? I'm pretty limited in options, just in case you failed to notice."

"I didn't fail to notice. I've actually been there, in case you failed to remember."

Confusion wrinkled her forehead and then Buffy gasped. "I put you in a wheelchair."

"I was there."

"That's why you took this job! Poetic justice for you to get to see me in the same boat!"

"No, I took this job because I needed a safe place to stay and I'm willing to put up with your ass to save mine."

"It's that bad, huh?" Buffy made eye contact and held it. "What? Are you hiding out from demons? Some big bad monster want you for his plaything? You owe money to someone? Or wait, maybe the demon world finally realizes what a liability you are and they want to nuke you. Am I getting warm?"

"It's vampires," Spike told her, rubbing his palms up and down his thighs. "And I don't want to talk about it."

"You're running from vampires? That's kind of pathetic." Buffy smiled cruelly at him. "You'd think you could take on your own kind. Wimp."

Spike cupped her jaw and leaned down, a few inches from her face. "You'd think you could take on my kind. You are the Slayer after all." He watched her face cloud and continued, "Those vampires who did this to you are the same ones after me. If you couldn't take them in your peak, then what in the hell makes you think I can take them with the way I am?"

"Why don't you just leave town?" Buffy shoved his hand off her face and pulled herself to one side, trying to get away from him.

"And do what, Slayer? I can't just take food when I need it anymore. I can't bite anything. I have to buy my dinner and to do that, I need money. And I'm not leaving this town until those idiotic soldier boys fix my head." Spike gripped her under the arms and pulled her upright, holding her in front of his face as he stood. "The chance of me surviving out there the way I am is zero. I can still fight a demon, hell so can you, but I'm not like them anymore and they want to make me pay for that."

Buffy said nothing. He stared at her for a few more seconds, then stalked with her to her chair and put her down. She watched him lean against the doorjamb and for the first time in months, she felt sorry for someone other than herself. He was just as crippled as she was. The chip in his head, or wherever it was, had left him just as broken as the vampires had left her. Sure, he could walk, but the thing that set him apart, the thing that made him a vampire, had been stripped away. Just like the thing that made her a Slayer had been stripped away. For the first time in her life, she relied on others for everything. She was dependent on ­him- during the day and he was dependent on the safety of her home.

She cleared her throat and started to roll away, then paused and glanced back at him. "People shouldn't have to be in a wheelchair."

"Is that your way of apologizing for putting me in one?"

"No." Buffy shook her head and clutched her wheels tighter, hating him for making her feel anything at all. "I said people. You aren't a person. You're a thing and you're a broken thing."

"You should talk." Spike brushed past her. "I'll be in the basement if you should decide you need something."

Buffy watched him go, hating him for walking, hating him for standing up to her and hating him for saying what no one else would say to her. And hating herself for respecting that he could do that.

And would.

♥

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Tara asked, watching as Willow began to light candles. "I mean, the human spirit isn't really something you want to mess with, you know?"

"Buffy has no spirit. You said yourself that she's hollow inside." Willow lit the final candle and blew out the match. Motioning Tara to sit down across from her, she took a deep breath. "It has to work."

"We've been doing it for three days and it hasn't worked yet."

"We didn't have all the ingredients, that's all."

Tara sighed and took the hand that Willow held out. "I just think that it's wiser to let her heart and soul come to terms with her body's limitations on its own. You can't manufacture closure and magick can't resolve feelings, Willow. Not really."

"Tara, we're just opening her up to her unresolved feelings and letting her admit it to herself. That's it. She's in denial about her disability and she 's not willing to accept that she needs help. We're just going to open her mind to all the possibilities. It's going to be okay." Pulling several petals from a wilting rose, Willow dropped them into a bowl and used the thorny stem to stir the concoction she had mixed. "Are you ready?"

Nodding, Tara dropped a strand of Buffy's hair into the potion. "Wilting rose and candlelight, open up her mind tonight, make her recognize her fear and let her strength begin right here."

Willow used a dropper to add vanilla into the mixture and spoke softly. "I offer the sweetness of vanilla and rose, to call upon the one who knows, shine a light into the dark and let the truth speak to her heart."

"Willow!" Tara cried, leaping to her feet. She grabbed a book off the bed and flipped the pages. "You aren't supposed to speak to her heart! You were supposed to shine the light into the dark and let it show her where to start."

"Oh no." The redhead took the book and stared at the spell. "What do you think will happen?"

"Nothing," Tara said quickly, closing the book. "You did it wrong so nothing should happen, but-."

"But?"

"Well, we asked for her to recognize her fear. Those are matters of the mind. When you get her heart involved, it can confuse it. Confuse the magick."

"Confuse it how?"

"Well, if she wants to care about someone again, and stop pushing them away, and is scared of that, it will be less scary now. We've given her strength to admit her pain and the feelings in her heart. At least to herself."

"Tara?"

"Yeah."

"The rose isn't wilted anymore." Willow held it up what had been the dying flower, turning the stem in her fingers to show the deep crimson petals on the full bloom.

"Oh, boy." Tara took the rose and sniffed. "It smells like vanilla."

"Buffy's favorite scent." Willow bit her bottom lip and glanced at the photo of Buffy on her nightstand. "Next time I want to do magick, please turn me into a toad."

"You got it."

Part Three

Joyce half expected to find a pile of cinder, smoke and ash when she pulled into her driveway. She breathed a sigh of relief to see that her house was still standing and stepped from the car carrying two bags. One was full of Chinese take-out, Buffy's favorite, and the other was full of plasma for Spike. Giles had taken it upon himself to secure Spike's blood, ordering it from out of town. He had explained how important it was not to leave any sort of trail to Spike back to her door. If the vampires who were looking for him found out that she was having blood delivered from one of the butchers in town, they could piece it together. This way, no one would find out at all.

She balanced her bags and opened the front door, nervously glancing around the foyer as she stepped inside. After Buffy had mentioned railroad spikes and mutilation to her, she had been compelled to speak to Spike about his previous hobbies. She had regretted it immediately, since he held nothing back. Joyce was happy that she didn't see her daughter's body parts dangling from anything and cleared her throat. "Buffy?"

"In the living room," Buffy called.

Joyce began to walk around the corner and met Spike coming out of the kitchen. "Oh, Spike, hello. I brought home Chinese food."

"Mmm." Spike grinned at her and took the bags. "Did you happen to bring me home the cook?" The woman paled and her eyes widened, causing Spike chuckle loudly. "Relax, Joyce, I was kidding."

Joyce smiled, still looking perplexed, and walked further into the living room to see Buffy. She noticed the uneaten food immediately and frowned. "Have you eaten today?"

"No," Buffy replied and sat up further on the couch. "I haven't eaten at all and I haven't had anything to drink either. And that, MONSTER, tried to take the hinges off the bathroom door when I was trying to have privacy."

Joyce glanced up at Spike. "For future reference, the door doesn't lock."

"The door doesn't lock? That's all you can say?" Buffy shouted, pushing herself into a complete sitting position. "Mother, he came into the bathroom not knowing if I was half naked or using the restroom or anything else."

Spike shifted uncomfortably and clutched the bags tighter. The little bitch was really going to try to get him fired. He shook his head and spoke up quickly. "She told me she was going to stay in there until you got home and I didn't know how long that would be."

"Spike, why don't you take those bags into the kitchen for me?" Joyce asked, not taking her eyes off Buffy. She waited until the vampire had left the room and then cleared her throat. "I spoke with our insurance company today. Given our situation, they would be willing to pay for care for you."

"Good. Fire Spike." Buffy flopped back and crossed her arms. "I refuse to stay with him."

"Buffy, the only way they will pay is if I have you institutionalized. I can do that because I can't physically take care of you like you need or afford home care. It's an option."

"You want to put me in some home now? Some sterile facility with horny orderlies and mean nurses who let you sit in your own piss for days?" Reaching for her chair, Buffy's voice rose. "I told you I can take care of myself! I don't need anyone."

She forgot to lock her wheels and when she put her weight on the chair to pull herself into it, it tipped to one side, causing her to fall off the edge of the couch. Joyce grabbed her shoulders before she fell completely and pulled her upright, shaking her angrily. "No, I don't want to put you in a home, but I want you to be safe, Buffy. I want you to have someone here who can make sure that you are getting enough to eat and haven't fallen. Either you help me out here or--."

"You don't want me here. I know that now more than ever." Buffy yanked her arms loose and fumbled to pull her chair upright. "Go ahead, put me away. Then you can forget me just like dad did! You can't take care of me, right? That's your reason? Well guess what? You never could."

Buffy managed to get herself into her chair, knocking over the coffee table in the process. She rolled toward the dining room and her voice rose. "You never could take care of me. You never stopped to ask me why I was bruised and bloody half the time. You never asked me why my clothes were always torn and why I had bags under my eyes. You never noticed the pain that I was in, inside and out, and when you finally did, you kicked me out! Go ahead, do it again!"

"Buffy!" Joyce had risen to her feet and was walking toward her daughter with her hands out, as if to pull her into her arms. "You can't believe that. I never wanted you to leave, honey. Never."

There was a knock at the door and Buffy rolled her eyes. "I don't care what you do with me. Put me away, leave me with Spike, or toss me out again. I just don't care."

She rolled away, leaving Joyce standing with tears streaming down her face. Spike, who had listened from the kitchen doorway, followed her into the makeshift office that her mother used in the back of the house. Buffy realized he was behind her and stopped rolling. "What do you want?"

"I want to know why you're such an ass, but wait, I've always wanted to know that. So that's not new." He stepped into the room and flipped on a lamp that was on one end of a computer desk. "What I want to know is when you're going to stop thinking with legs that don't work and start thinking with your head."

"I don't want to hear this." Buffy closed her eyes and pressed her fingers over them, begging her emotions not to betray her and make her sob. "You don 't know anything about it."

"Yes, I think I do." Spike leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. For several seconds, he collected his thoughts, and then he spoke again. "I sat in your chair today when you were in the bathroom and I couldn't take it. The minute I sat down, I remembered vividly what it felt like to be stuck there. I remembered how I hated everyone around me who could walk. I remembered how I hated myself for not being strong enough to get up and most of all I remembered how it felt to feel like you weren't good enough. Weren' t worthy enough to be alive anymore."

"You should feel like that all the time," Buffy snapped angrily. "After all, you are a freak, just like me."

"And your friends?" Spike didn't flinch and kept talking instead. "You're pushing them all away to make it easier for them to leave you. You're afraid that they're going to run out on you and you can't catch up." Spike saw the tears begin to roll down her cheeks and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a role of paper towels. When he went back into the room, Buffy was sobbing, her breath hitching in the back of her throat. He ripped one of the towels loose and handed it to her, kneeling beside her chair. "I don't like you and you don't like me, but this is the hand that we've been dealt. Now, you can accept that and get over it or you can pack up your things and go to a hospital with horny orderlies and if you think my cooking is bad-."

"What do you know about hospitals?" Buffy blew her nose loudly and mopped at her eyes with her sleeve.

Spike glanced down at the floor, wondering if he should tell her the truth. She was the type of person who would most likely laugh at him and call him names. Deciding to tell her just enough, he shrugged and said, "Well, you know, I was a mortal once and one thing you can guarantee is the fact that hospital food is going to suck, no matter how much time passes."

"I don't want to have to go away." Buffy's voice broke again and her chin quivered. "I've lost everything. I don't want to lose my home too."

Spike watched her, hating the fact that he was going to have to hug her. She was staring at him like she expected it and if he wanted to keep the 'job', he would have to make sure she stayed there instead of some facility. If there was going to be a truce, he would wave the white flag, but this would not become a habit. Absolutely not. Shifting closer to her, he patted her on the shoulder uncomfortably, then slid his hand around her back. He felt her lean her head against his chest and gritted his teeth. This was not happening.

Buffy sniffled against him and pushed him away. Spike was pulled from his thoughts and looked up at her, still kneeling beside her chair. "So, what's it gonna be, Slayer."

"I hate this," she said softly, staring at the tissue in her hand. There was a big difference between being trapped with a demon and being trapped inside yourself and Buffy was facing both. Hate was putting it mildly.

"I hate it too." Spike looked at her distastefully. "Being cooped up here with you all day and night isn't exactly my idea of a good time, but I can just about guarantee you that it's a lot better than the other alternatives that either of us have."

"Buffy?" Willow suddenly poked her head around the doorway and gave her a smile. Her features fell immediately when she saw the tears on her friend's face and she stepped into the room. With her purse, she slapped Spike over the head and pointed at Buffy with her free hand. "What the hell did you do to her?"

Spike caught her purse and yanked it out of her grasp. "I didn't do a damned thing, Red."

"It's okay, Willow." Buffy dried her face and nodded at her. "It's fine. What's up?"

Willow glared at Spike, causing him to throw his hands in the air and walk out, then she pulled a chair up beside Buffy. "How are you feeling?"

"You came here to ask me that? You could have just called. It's dark out and without a Slayer in town-."

"Right, I know." Willow exhaled and ran a hand through her hair, wondering how to broach the topic of another possibly spell gone awry. "So, uhm, do you feel any better about, you know, what happened?" Buffy stared at her blankly and Willow fidgeted in her seat. "Are you happier or anything?"

"Do I look happy at all to you?" Buffy held up the tissue in her hand and pointed at her legs. "Do I look jovial in the least?"

"Well, no, but I was just curious."

"And you came here to ask me that?"

"And to see you."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?"

"Do? Me?" Willow felt every bit of the nerve she had built up start to diminish. "I didn't do a thing. Mmm mmm, no way. Nothing at all."

Spike stepped into the room and put his hands on his hips. "Are you doing some kind of magickal mojo on her, Witch?"

"Spike, quit eavesdropping!" Willow got to her feet and pushed him out of the room, closing the door behind him. She took a deep breath and went to her seat again. "Buffy, let's just say, hypothetically, that if you do start to feel a wiggins, don't ignore it. Let me know."

"You did do a spell!" Buffy tossed her tissue angrily and rolled her chair as far away from Willow as she could. "You ­would- use magick to deal with me. You can't accept me this way so you have to try to change me."

Willow's face flushed red. "You would think that. You have absolutely no faith in me as your friend at all. I want to help you, Buffy, but I'm not going to let you keep doing this to me. You can't keep making me feel bad for wanting to help you."

"Then go. It's simple." Buffy turned toward the door. "Spike!" The door opened immediately and she shoved the blanket off her legs. "I want to go to my room now. Please?"

Spike nodded and brushed past Willow, lifting the Slayer from her seat. He paused before he got out the door and glanced back at Willow. "You can't fix everything. Some people are better off with friends instead of sorcerers."

Buffy said nothing as Spike carried her back through the house, past her mother and Tara, who watched them as they made their way up the stairs. She turned the knob on her door and flipped the lightswitch. She noticed that Spike was staring around her room and pointed toward her bed. "Just put me on the bed."

Spike nodded and sat her on the edge of her bed. "Do you want me to bring up your chair?"

"No. Just leave me alone, okay?"

"How about your dinner?"

"Please. Leave. Me. Alone."

Spike turned on the heel of his boot and left the room, leaving her door open. Walking down the stairs, he paused at the bottom of the stairs long enough to watch Willow and Tara leave, then glanced at Joyce. "She wants to be left alone."

"She needs to eat."

"She needs to learn that she gets what she asks for." Spike walked around her, into the kitchen, then turned and came back. "And just for the record, telling her that you were going to have her committed was a really low blow."

"I-I-."

Spike held up a hand and interrupted. "No. There was no excuse for that. She needs to know that people are not going to take the easy road out of her life, Joyce. No matter how intolerable she is, you have to tolerate her and be there." He took a deep, unneeded breath and nodded toward the kitchen. "Dinner?"

Joyce followed him into the kitchen, pondering what he had said. "I was only trying to scare her into complying."

"Scare tactics don't work. Especially on a Slayer." Spike rammed a knife through the tip of his blood bag and emptied the contents into a mug.

Joyce regarded him for several seconds. When she spoke again, her tone was thoughtful and her eyes had misted over. "You know, Spike, granted, I haven' t been around many vampires or demons for that matter, but speaking with you like this, I wonder why there needs to be a Slayer." Joyce opened the cartons of Chinese food and dipped several spoonfuls onto a plate.

"Because we're evil." Spike stuck his cup into the microwave and turned to face her, shrugging indifferently. "That's how it works."

"Well, I think there is an exception to every rule. You're the exception." Joyce lifted her plate and nodded toward her office. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go over some paperwork."

"Of course." Spike waited until she was securely confined in her office and pulled a plate from the cabinet. He filled it with contents from every container and grabbed a glass of juice from the refrigerator before he made his way up the stairs.

The door was open and he paused, staring in. She seemed to be asleep, lying on her back with her arms tossed over her head. She was still on the foot of the bed and her legs dangled over the side. He put the plate on top of her dresser and gently tugged the cover down on her bed. Lifting her slowly, he positioned her in the bed and pulled the cover up, then put the plate and drink beside her bed so she could reach it.

He decided to bring her chair up and left the room. Joyce sidetracked him, asking him to retrieve a box of paperwork from the basement, and when he finally found the time to take her chair, the plate of food he had left was empty and Buffy was snoring. He pushed her chair close to her bed, locked the wheels and lifted the dirty dishes. Shaking his head, he growled low in his throat, cursing himself for keeping a slayer, of all things, alive.

Joyce cleared her throat behind him and he walked toward her. She pointed at the plates. "What happened to her getting what she asked for? I didn't hear her ask."

Spike chuckled. "There's an exception to every rule, just like you said."

Part Four

Spike awoke to the smell of coffee percolating and glanced at the small windows in one corner of the basement. The sun was just rising, casting shades of orange and gold, and he was tempted to peek out, then thought better of it. No use longing for a glimpse of something he would never get to fully enjoy again. Damn the Slayer for taking the Gem of Amara, he thought as he grabbed his bag, a tattered duffel with small holes all over it, and dug through for a fresh shirt and jeans. He frowned when he realized that he had nothing left in the bag, and glanced at the washer and dryer in one corner of the room.

With a sigh, he gathered the few articles of clothing he owned and tossed them into the washer, setting the temperature on hot so it would get all the grime out. His favorite black jeans were newly torn at the knees and his button down shirt was now buttonless, thanks to the last run in with those vampires who were hellbent on making him a minion. He had stolen one pair of pants from Xander and one from Giles, but he had tossed the Xander's when he realized that they were 'homeboy' style, with a crotch that hung halfway to his ankles. And the ones that he had taken from Giles were the ones he had worn yesterday.

He heard Joyce walking around in the kitchen and glanced down at his attire. The beach scene boxers that Buffy had made fun of made his legs look even whiter, and the light blue T-shirt was extremely baggy over his thin body. It would probably be rude to walk around Joyce this way, but he shrugged and walked up the stairs, figuring he was bad and rude and he may as well make that clear from the start.

Joyce was standing in her robe, stirring a cup of coffee and staring at the back door, almost as if she was contemplating walking out of it and not coming back. She heard Spike step in behind her and quickly dried the tears on her face before she turned to face him. "Good morning, Spike. I hope I didn't wake you."

Spike studied her intently, taking in the bags under her eyes and the tear tracks on her cheeks and shook his head. "You did, but that's good. If she's going to start staying upstairs, I need to get up when you do so I can hear her better."

"I could buy one of those monitor things." Joyce grabbed another mug from the cabinet and handed it to him. "Should I do that?"

"I don't think so." Spike shook his head and glanced at the box of hot chocolate on the counter. Deciding to forego blood for the morning, he filled his cup with water and stuck it in the microwave. "I think you should keep everything as normal as possible. If you start making a fuss then she' ll fuss back. Don't give her a reason."

"She woke up last night and called me to come to her room. She didn't even mention the argument we'd had. She only wanted me to help her into the bathroom."

"I noticed that there are no rails in that bathroom." Spike took his cup from the microwave and dumped a packet of cocoa in it.

"Oh, I have them, but Giles has been too busy working to install them. And to be honest, I didn't expect her to go back upstairs."

"I'll get them put up today." Spike took a sip of his drink and watched her closely. "She probably didn't mean everything she said to you last night."

Joyce nodded and put her cup in the sink. "She did mean it. And she was mostly right."

Spike raised his eyebrow. "You want to put her away? You view her as a burden?"

"Not about that. She was right about the fact that I should have figured out a long time ago what was happening in her life. I haven't been a good mother."

"Not every mother has a Slayer for a kid. There really wasn't a parenting handbook for that."

Joyce blushed and chuckled a little. "You found my box of parenting books in the basement."

"Yes, and no offense, but you really should get better reading material around here." Spike finished his cocoa and put his empty mug beside Joyce's in the sink. "Look, you have to deal with her injury the same way you dealt with her being a Slayer."

"Get drunk and kick her out?"

"You did that?" Spike stared at her in shock when she nodded. "You kicked her out after her friends had been injured, her psycho-lover had taken her watcher hostage and she was being hunted by the cops?"

"I told you, I'm a bad mother."

For once, Spike was speechless. He crossed his arms and watched as Joyce left the room to get ready for work. He had been with Buffy when she told her mother about being a Slayer. Of course, he had laughed at the time. Laughed at the woman's reaction, enjoyed Buffy's discomfort and took pleasure in the fact that the Slayer's entire world had fallen apart because of one night with Angel.

But he wasn't laughing now.

♥

Buffy shifted uncomfortably against her sagging pillows and rolled her upper body, snuggling deeper into the bed. Her mother's alarm clock had jarred her from slumber a half hour before and she had been unable to doze again. Not that she wanted to fall back into her dreams at all. For what felt like the entire night, she'd dreamed about the vampires that had injured her. She dreamed about being surrounded, fighting for her life, trying to run away, and then being slammed against one of the headstones.

In some of the dreams she cried and screamed, trying to tell herself that she could outrun it, outrun the crippling blow, but the outcome was always the same. Her lying on the ground, the world slipping in and out of darkness, and a voice calling from the sidelines just as fangs pierced her flesh. The voice was familiar, but she couldn't place it. It could have been Xander, since he was the one who had reached her first, but she wasn't sure.

Fragments of a conversation clung to her subconscious and she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to make sense of the jumbled words she was recalling. She could remember someone saying her name and then voices rising in anger, but she had no idea what it was about. And if it had been Xander, then why was he having an argument with the vampires and how had he won? She would have to call him and ask him how he had come to find her and what he had said to stop the vampires. She made a mental note and sighed, trying to force herself to sleep again. The more she slept, the less time she would have to spend thinking about her lack of a future.

She was in a partial sleep state when Joyce walked into her room and stopped beside her bed. Buffy could feel her staring and contemplated letting her know she was awake, but she remained still. Her mother brushed her hair away from her forehead and kissed her temple. "I'm sorry, Buffy."

Several minutes passed, punctuated by the sound of Joyce's heels on the stairs, her muffled good-byes to Spike and the sound of her car starting before Buffy replied. "I'm sorry too, Mom."

"You should probably tell her, not me," Spike spoke up from her doorway.

Buffy rolled quickly, causing a sharp pain to shoot up her spine. "Ow. You shouldn't do that, you know? Eavesdropping is wrong."

"So is talking to yourself." Spike shrugged, then regarded the look on her face. "You still have pain?"

"You're still here, aren't you?" Buffy asked through clenched teeth. She waited for the ache to dull and swallowed hard when it did. "And yes, I still have pain sometimes."

"Why?"

"I'm guessing because my back was hurt, Spike." She pushed herself up and rolled her shoulders, trying to stretch out the muscles that were throbbing.

"It happened so long ago, and with you being a Slayer and all, it shouldn't still bother you. Have they checked you out for muscle and nerve damage? Sometimes the trauma to the spine can be ..." He trailed off, lost in a sea of thought.

"Listen to you! You sound like a physician's home reference guide. When did you get your medical degree, Spike?" Buffy asked sarcastically.

"Eighteen seventy," Spike said absently, not even thinking of what he was saying. He was too busy pondering the pain in her back and the implications it could have.

"Yeah, right. You're a doctor. Tell me another one."

"What?" Her chatter pulled Spike from his thoughts and he realized what he had said.

"You're a doctor?"

He ran a hand over his hair, nervously ruffling it out of place. "Oh, I was kidding."

"I figured, and if it wasn't so farfetched, it would probably be funny."

"Why is it farfetched?"

"Look at you! Bleached out hair, raggedy clothes and a cockney accent from hell."

"I have never been 'cockney'."

"You've never been much."

"I was a mortal once."

"And I'm sure the term loser could apply to that too."

"I thought we had a truce," Spike pointed out.

"When did I agree to a truce?"

"I have things to do today. I don't have time for this." Spike pulled her cover back, ready to lift her and put her in her chair. "Do you need to use the restroom?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll take you downstairs. I've got to install some of those safety rail things in the bathroom on this floor."

Lifting her, Spike carried her out the door and down the stairs. He deposited her on the toilet, then stood for several seconds, watching her pull herself upward on the counter. He was tempted to ask her how she managed to get her shorts down alone, but thought better of it. "I'll just go get your chair."

"No," Buffy said quickly, holding herself up with two rails.

"No?"

"Well, I ... could I ... Uhm, I don't want to be down here alone so when I'm finished, can I sit up there and watch you put the rails in?"

"You want to watch me install rails?" Spike was stunned when she nodded. "Fine. Whatever."

He pulled the door closed and walked into the kitchen. He got her a glass of juice, toasted several pieces of bread and took it up to her room, then returned to the bathroom door. "Are you almost ready?"

Buffy finished securing her hair in a ponytail and smoothed a few flyaways into place. She was out of breath, partly from wriggling in and out of her shorts on the floor, but mostly because doing everything she had to do was almost impossible in a room built for people who walked. Just brushing her teeth was daunting enough considering how high the sinks were. Luckily for her, her mother had a full length mirror on one wall, so she could check her hair from her current position on the toilet.

And she had no idea why she was worried about her hair at all. It's not like she cared to impress anyone, right? Pulled back this way, exposing her darker roots, she looked like a brunette again. She studied herself, narrowing her eyes, then opening them wide. She definitely liked blonde better. The darker growth made her look paler than usual and didn't really bring out the greens and grays of her eyes.

"Buffy?" Spike knocked again.

"Oh, come in." Buffy took a deep breath and waited for him to open the door.

Spike pushed the door open and looked her up and down. "You look human again."

"Shut up!" Buffy snapped, trying to camouflage the glee she felt that he had noticed her appearance.

He lifted her and headed up the stairs, wondering if she would be willing to tell him about what had happened after her mother had forced her out of the house. Ever since Joyce had told him about it, he had been curious about where Buffy had gone and what she had done. Sitting her in her chair, he lifted the tray that fit across the handles and snapped it into place, then put her breakfast down on top of it. "I'll be across the hallway."

Buffy nodded and began to pick at the toast he had prepared for her. "Okay."

"Eat that, Slayer. We are not going to have a repeat of yesterday."

"I don't like toast." Buffy peeled off the crust and pushed it aside, eyeing it warily.

"You are worse than an infant." Spike snatched the plate and put one hand on his hip. "What will you eat? Should I get you some bird seed? You certainly eat like one."

"I'm still full from my late dinner. My mom gave me Chinese food."

"Your mom didn't give you a damn thing. I did."

Buffy's eyes widened and she gasped, not believing him for one second. "You brought that up here?"

"What? Are you going to say it wasn't good now?"

"I was going to say thank you," she replied seriously, then sipped her juice.

"That's it?" Spike watched her closely, waiting for her to insult him, then rolled his eyes. "You're welcome."

Buffy watched him walk out the door and set her glass down on her tray. If he brought up her dinner, he may have been the one who had turned down her bed and put her under the covers. She had been sleeping soundly and barely recalled it at all. It had been the smell of Sweet and Sour Chicken that had woken her up entirely and she had realized that someone had put her to bed. She had just assumed it was her mother. Why would Spike bother at all when it wasn't his responsibility?

She heard him tinkering around in the bathroom and rolled out into the hallway, watching him intently. He was wearing those loud shorts again, the ones with the sun and sand castles. He was kneeling with his back to her, laying out various screws and pieces of railing and she watched him, studying his movements. He didn't look at all like a demon right then. His feet were bare, toes curling to support his weight as he squatted on his knees and fumbled with a sheet of instructions, and his appearance was anything but frightening. The shorts, the bare legs and the bed hair made him look normal and sexy. ~ I did not just go there! ~

"Bloody hell!" Spike shouted suddenly.

Buffy jumped in her seat at the sound of his voice. At the sound of his very familiar voice saying a very familiar phrase. She ignored the fact that he had stood and was hopping around the small bathroom. All she could think about was the fact that her dream suddenly made sense. Spike had been the man she heard when the vampire bit her. He had shouted 'bloody hell' and then argued with them, telling them something about seniority. Then he had lifted her, cradling her against his chest until Xander shouted her name.

"Slayer, I just rammed a screw through my knee!" Spike tapped her on the arm and pointed at his bloody leg. "Where does your mum keep the band-aids?"

She was oblivious to anything he had said after he had shouted. It was beginning to make sense. The vampires were after Spike because of *her*. She stared into his face and whispered, "It was you."

"What?" Grabbing a roll of toilet paper, Spike pressed it against the hole in his knee and glared at her.

"You stopped those vampires from killing me, didn't you? You saw what was happening and you ran up and made them stop. That's why they want to get back at you, isn't it?"

Spike stared down at the floor, unsure of what to say. She was absolutely right. It was bad enough that he had taken to hunting demons for food and violence, but when he had intervened and prevented them from killing the Slayer, he had broken every demon code there was. He had lied, pretending that he was still the big bad and wanted her for his own. He had claimed that she was responsible for the chip in his head and that if anyone had earned the right to kill her, it was him. They had finally backed off, leaving him to it. He had lifted her, intent on taking her to Giles' place, but he had heard Xander shout for her and knew she would be safe with him.

How was he supposed to know that one of the vampires had stayed behind to see the Slayer catch her death?

That night was the first of a series of beatings that he had endured for her. Because he had turned on his kind and saved her life and he made no apologies for it.

Buffy touched his arm tentatively. "The first-aid kit is in under the sink."

Saying nothing, he retrieved the kit, sat on the edge of the tub and began to rummage through it. He was painfully aware of the fact that she was watching his every move and concentrated hard on securing the bandage on his knee. Once it was in place, he closed the lid and stood, rolling a towel to put under his legs to keep from having the same accident twice.

Buffy shook her head when he went back to work, turning his back to her again. "Don't you think I deserve an explanation?"

Spike sat up straight and sighed loudly, not looking at her. "Don't you think I've been looking for an explanation since it happened?"

"You saved my life, Spike. Why?"

"I'm not going to talk about this."

"If you don't, I'll draw my own conclusions."

"Just don't color outside the lines," he mumbled absently, trying his best to ignore her.

"Did you know I was paralyzed and would be miserable? You did it to spite me, didn't you?"

Spike stood abruptly, tossing the railing in his hand against the wall. "You would think that!"

"What am I supposed to think? That you did it out of the kindness of your heart? You don't have kindness! You did it to punish me! Just admit it. Say it. Say that you wanted me to go through life alone and miserable and half dead and unwanted because I did it to you! You should have let me die!" Buffy began to sob and rolled herself back, going into her bedroom. She slammed the door as hard as she could, causing it to splinter at the hinges, and rolled toward her bed. She knocked the tray off her chair and leaned forward, resting her forehead against her comforter and crying softly.

Spike opened her door and walked slowly into the room. "You wouldn't have stayed dead. They were planning on turning you, you know?"

"Go away."

"You wanted an explanation and there it is! I didn't want you to be a vampire. You think I damned you into that chair? You don't know what damned is, Slayer."

"I said get out!" Buffy screamed at him, reaching for something to throw at him.

He caught her arm as she tried to throw her phone at him and pinned her wrists. "You think being in a chair is hell, don't you? You think that being stuck on your ass is the worst feeling in the world. Do you want to know what's worse? Knowing that there is a sunrise out there that you can't see because it will kill you. You don't forget how it feels to have sunlight on your face. You don't forget how clouds look like cotton balls and the sky changes colors like a prism. It stays with you and every day that you don't have it makes you want it more."

"And so does knowing what it feels like to walk! You think I can just forget that?" She shouted, her face flushing in anger. Her hands shook as she ran them over her face, and looked away.

"So you would rather be a vampire?"

"I would rather be dead!"

"Then you are a fool!"

"Fine, I'm a fool." The reply came with no inflection.

Spike let go of her and put her phone back on the cradle. "Admitting it is the first step."

Buffy watched him stroll toward the door, then looked away when he paused and turned to face her. He cleared his throat and stepped back toward her. "And just for the record, you aren't alone. I know that I'm not the best company in the world, but I'm here."

He waited for her to reply and when she didn't, he went back into the bathroom and began working again. His mind wandered the entire time, replaying the things that Joyce had told him that morning and the things that Buffy had said to him. The more he thought about it, the more he began to realize why she was so screwed up. People had a habit of abandoning her. He had been there a couple of days now and only Willow had stopped to visit. Her father wasn't around, Giles wasn't around and most of all, Angel had not been around. Surely he had to know what had happened to her. News traveled fast in the demon world.

As he installed the final rail, he stood and surveyed his handiwork. He was about to go and tell Buffy that he was finished and ask her if she wanted lunch, when he noticed her sitting in the hallway watching him. "Slayer, you are a lot of trouble."

"Did you only do it because they were going to change me?" She watched him closely, her eyes betraying the pain she felt.

Spike walked into the hallway and squatted down in front of her. He knew that she needed to hear something more, something good, anything to make her life seem valuable. He shook his head and spoke slowly. "I did it because of who you are. I did it because I wanted to. I guess I figured the world would be really boring without you in it."

"Are you sorry you did it?"

"No." His eyes met hers and held and he was stunned to feel something in his heart tugging at him. "And don't you be sorry that I did it."

"Spike?" Buffy leaned forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's really hard to have a serious moment with you when you are wearing this outfit."

His face broke into a grin at the same time hers did. "Yeah, well, it's hard to have a serious conversation with someone who thinks Max and Liz are a super couple."

"Max and Liz are a super couple, dummy. And at least I don't think that 'Passions' is the best hour on television."

"Hey! Attack me if you want to but don't you dare attack my soap!"

"You're pathetic." Buffy laughed lightly, then paused, realizing that she had let her guard down and actually enjoyed his company for a split second. "I-I-."

"You like me." Spike shrugged and winked at her. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. No one can resist me."

"You mean repel you." Buffy smiled easily and listened to him grumble about her needing to have the last word all the time. She watched him pick up the spare parts, ribbed him about the fact that there were spare parts at all, and then rolled into her bedroom when he went down the stairs to find them some lunch. She went to her window and raised the blind, staring out at the noonday sunlight that filtered through the trees in her yard. Spike was right. She would have missed never seeing the sun again.

He was right about a few things.

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

She liked him.

Part Five

Buffy chewed on a potato chip thoughtfully and pondered the popularity of the Jerry Springer show. Before she had been injured, she envied the couch potatoes that could stay up to date on talk shows, soap operas and current events, but as the second fight broke out on the television, she flipped it off and shook her head at Spike. "Daytime television leaves a lot to be desired."

Spike watched with satisfaction as she finished off her sandwich and dabbed her face with a napkin. "Enjoy your lunch?"

"Yeah, it was good." Buffy threw her napkin into her plate and rolled toward the kitchen.

Spike followed behind her, leaning against the counter as she tossed the bread crust into the trash and put the plate in the sink. "I could have brought that for you."

"I get kind of tired of sitting there. Even rolling myself from room to room beats sitting in one spot."

"Aren't you exercising?"

"Yeah, funny. I walk on my hands on my treadmill every single night."

Spike frowned at her and crossed his arms. "Doesn't Joyce stretch you out and massage the muscles in your legs and back to keep the blood flow stimulated?"

"No."

"You're kidding, right?" He studied her closely and shook his head when she shrugged indifferently. "Slayer, you have to do that!"

"No, I don't."

"You can cause permanent damage if you don't."

"I already have permanent damage."

"You don't know that. Your mum said that the doctors gave you a fifty/fifty chance. And you are making it an eighty/twenty chance by not exercising." He spun on his heel and walked back into the living room. He pushed the coffee table to one side of the room, grabbed a blanket from behind the sofa and made a pallet on the floor. Turning to see Buffy behind him, he unhooked her tray and reached for her. "Come on."

"What?" Buffy smacked his hands away. "You can't possibly think that I am going to let you---" She was momentarily silenced by Spike lifting her under the arms and laying her out on the floor. "Spike, no! Put me back!"

Spike kneeled down and lifted her foot and leg, pushing her foot upward toward her body several times. "This simulates walking, the pressure that I' m putting on it is like taking a step."

"Would you put me back in my chair?" Buffy rolled her eyes when he lifted the other leg and repeated the process. "Spike, I can't feel a thing you're doing."

"It's not hurting you then, is it?" He wiggled his eyebrows and then began pushing her leg toward her chest, leaning against it to add pressure. "This will help with your back pain too. I imagine that the pain is being caused by a severe lack of stimulation."

Buffy flushed angrily and tried to sit up. Being in this position, having him touch her in any way, was just too much. It made her very aware of the fact that no man would ever touch her in desire again. "This is ridiculous! You don't know what you're doing."

"Yes, I do. You forget that I was here once." Spike pushed her back down on the floor and laid her leg down, then began kneading her thighs.

"Ack!" Buffy sat up again and leaned over her legs protectively. "You forget that you're a vampire! Wounds heal faster on you."

Spike tugged her upward and forced her to look at him. "And you're a Slayer. Seems to me that we're just about alike when it comes to healing. Now lie back and hush."

Buffy flopped back, her head thumping the floor lightly. "Oww."

"Your fault." He rubbed his hands together and began massaging her thigh again, frowning when he felt how thin it was. "Your leg feels like a chicken bone."

"That's it," she cried, pulling herself into a sitting position again.

"Yes, that is it." Spike moved behind her and pushed her ponytail to one side.

She opened her mouth to protest, then moaned when his strong hands began to massage her shoulders and neck. He rubbed hard, causing her arms and fingertips to tingle as he worked away the tension she had from using her upper body so much. Buffy felt him urge her forward and she leaned willingly, propping herself on her hands.

He trailed down her spine, massaging with one hand, and feeling for damage with the other. Playing it carefully, not wanting to alert her to the impromptu exam he was giving, he cleared his throat and spoke softly. "Your mum and I had a talk this morning."

"Really?" Buffy exhaled and leaned more, letting him move even lower. "About what? Ooh, that feels good right there."

Spike grinned a little, then frowned, remembering what Joyce had told him. "She told me that she kicked you out of the house after she found out that you're a Slayer." Buffy tensed immediately and Spike paused, "We don't have to talk about it."

"No, it's okay. She did kick me out. And I was a Slayer, past tense." She wished that she could pull her knees up and rest her head on them; instead she picked at the fibers of the blanket and tried to concentrate on the feel of his hands. "I guess she couldn't handle it. She just gave up or something."

He used his thumbs to massage circles at her shoulder blades. "You know, I don't think she's planning on giving up again."

"Last night she—"

Spike cut in quickly. "Last night she gave you an ultimatum that she regretted this morning. She wouldn't send you away."

"Whatever." Buffy rolled her head as he moved to her neck again. "God, I didn't know how sore I really was."

"Where did you go? When she made you leave, I mean."

"I went to Los Angeles. I got a job at this really greasy diner called Helen's Kitchen and I worked all the time. I ate when I had money and I slept a lot." She closed her eyes, remembering the lonely hotel room that she barricaded herself in. "I cried a lot too. I don't like being alone."

"Not many people do." Spike pushed along her spine again.

Buffy had relaxed completely and when he pressed at the middle of her spine, pain shot through her back and she cried out. It was almost unbearable, hard to breath, hard to sit still and most of all, hard to endure. She felt hot tears behind her eyes and shook her head, oblivious to the fact that he had moved around her. "Stop!"

"I have stopped." Spike was kneeling next to her and gripped her hand, shocked at how pale she had become. He had felt something in her back, a large knot, and when he pressed it, she had immediately reacted. "Do you have pain medication?"

"Upstairs. Pills," Buffy hissed through clenched teeth.

He let go of her hand and rushed up the stairs. As he ran back down, someone knocked at the door and he opened it, ignoring whomever it was. He raced back into the living room and grabbed her glass of juice. When she had downed the pill and taken several sips of her drink, he spoke softly. "Are you okay?"

"I think so." Without thinking, Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder and exhaled loudly.

Spike wrapped his arm behind her and took her glass with his other hand, then lifted her and laid her on the sofa. "It's okay, luv."

"What is going on here?" Giles asked suddenly, making his presence known for the first time.

"I was giving her a massage and she had a pain." Spike grabbed the blanket off of the floor and pulled it over her.

Giles looked the vampire up and down, taking in his very casual attire and removed his glasses. "Can I speak with you in the kitchen, please?"

"Fine." He looked down at Buffy and said, "If you need anything just yell."

Giles poured himself a cup of coffee as soon as they entered the kitchen. As he added sugar and cream, he glared at Spike. "What were you doing touching her?"

"She told me that her mother doesn't massage her. I thought—"

"Your job here is to cook for her and make sure she doesn't injure herself. Not touch her in any way."

Spike stared at him for several seconds and then his eyes widened as realization dawned on him. "You can not possibly think that I would take advantage of her current situation and—"

"That's exactly what I think. You are, after all, a demon. You may be living with a family and you may be awake during the day now, but you are still a demon." Giles took a sip of his coffee and looked the man up and down again. "And what are you wearing? That is hideous apparel."

Spike glanced down at his clothing and bare feet, unable to argue the point that the man made. "I stole them from you."

Giles' eyes widened and he choked on his drink. "Oh. In any case, that isn't the type of thing to wear around a woman."

"My clothes are in the wash and I don't exactly have a big selection."

"Fine, fine. I'll come by at sunset and take you to buy something less . blinding, and more appropriate for your job here." Giles poured the contents of his cup down the drain and started out of the room. He paused beside Spike and leveled him with an icy glare. "And don't put your hands on her again."

Spike stood in one spot until he heard Giles speaking with Buffy, then he stomped into the basement and shoved his clothes into the dryer. A part of him couldn't blame Giles for thinking the worst, but another part of him was livid that the man would even consider such a notion. After all, a vampire wanting a Slayer? That was unheard of!

Unless he had inherited some of his sire's traits.

That was just what he needed on top of everything else.

♥

Buffy awoke to the smell of lasagna and stretched her upper body. Her back ached, reminding her of the horrible pain she had experienced earlier and she sat up slowly. "Spike?"

"Just a minute!" Joyce called from the kitchen.

"Where's Spike?" Buffy asked, as soon as her mother came into the room.

Joyce pulled off her oven mitts and sat on the edge of the couch. "Giles and Xander came by and picked him up. They're taking him to the mall to buy clothing."

"Why?"

"Apparently, Mr. Giles came by this afternoon and wasn't pleased to see him walking around barefoot and in 'shameful under garments'." She brushed Buffy

's hair off her cheek. "Did you sleep well?" "I took a pain pill. I slept like the dead."

Joyce regarded her daughter's features, recalling the rest of what Giles had told her that afternoon. "Honey, is Spike good to you?"

"Sure. He didn't get on my nerves much today." Buffy stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and stared at her mother curiously. "Why?"

"Nothing. Just making sure." Joyce tilted her daughter's face, forcing her to look her in the eye. "If he was doing anything that made you uncomfortable or scared, you would tell me right?"

"No, I'd stake him if he did what you're implying, Mom."

"I've never been good at subtlety, have I?" Joyce chuckled and stood up, smoothing down her slacks. "Dinner will be ready in about five minutes. Let me help you into your chair."

Buffy held her arms up and smiled. "Don't drop me."

Joyce shook her head and lifted her, holding her in a bear hug. "Precious cargo, baby. Precious cargo."

As Buffy ate her dinner, she pondered what her mother had suggested. Spike would never, ever even look at her in a remotely romantic way. No one would. She was crippled, had really bad hair lately, and nothing going for her other than the fact that she used to be a powerful Slayer. Definitely not qualifications that would get the men lining up.

Or one vampire.

With really great hands for massaging.

♥

Xander nudged Giles with his elbow as a woman with a dress that looked like saran wrap walked past them. "Do you feel as out of place here as me?"

Giles watched a man with a purple mohawk buy a dog collar and then stepped back as he walked past, the sound of his pants squeaking throughout the store. "Fear has pretty much eclipsed all other feeling right now, Xander. What is the name of this store again?"

"Punk Town. I dunno, maybe I could be punk." Xander grabbed a pair of plastic pants with safety pins all over them and held them in front of him, ignoring Giles' mumbled comments. "Did you see that woman with the pink hair earlier? She wanted me. She wanted me to wear that leash she bought and be her loooove puppy."

Spike walked up with several bags and grinned. "That wasn't a she. That was Thomas. He's actually a Huan demon, very aggressive lovers, I've been told."

"Oh god." Xander turned crimson and laid the pants down. "All the attractive people in this town are demons!"

"You found him attractive? Why, Xander, I'm shocked." Spike tried his best to look scandalized.

Giles glanced at the vampire's bags and shook his head. "Shopping with a vampire! I have reached a new low."

"Really, Rupert?" Spike slung his bags over his shoulder and fell into step with the two men. "I would think your all time low was the time you were a Fyoral demon."

"You're right." Giles nodded seriously. "I had to rely on you for help."

"Are we finished yet?" Xander asked as they stepped on the escalator. "I've got Anya shaped plans later tonight."

Spike nodded. "I'm ready."

Halfway down the escalator, Spike noticed a gift shop with several stuffed bears and candles. He was so engrossed in staring at the window, that he did not notice the gang of vampires that were riding the other escalator upward. They passed each other without incident and Spike stepped off, heading for the gift shop.

Giles sighed heavily. "I thought that you were ready, Spike."

"I'll be right back." Spike gave his bags to Xander and walked into the small store. Five minutes later, he came out and looked at Giles, who was seated on a bench. "I need thirty dollars."

"What on earth for? Haven't I spent enough on you tonight?" Giles nudged the bags with his shoe.

"It's not for me, you ponce. What would I need in there? It's for the Slayer." Spike held out his hand. "Some of us haven't forgotten that she is stuck at home tonight."

Giles rolled his eyes, but handed over his credit card. As soon as Spike walked back into the store, he looked at Xander. "Why is Spike buying Buffy a gift?"

"He's not. You are." Xander took a bite of the candy apple he had just picked up from the food court.

"You know what I mean. They hate each other."

"Maybe she threatened to kill him and he's making a peace offering." Xander shrugged and then swore loudly when his stick broke and the apple rolled across the floor. He tossed the stick quickly and pretended it hadn't happened.

Spike joined them, carrying a brightly wrapped package and grabbed his bags again. "Now, I'm ready."

A burly demon watched them leave. He stepped forward and crushed the apple under his boot and smiled as he looked at his companions. "And here we thought that this night was going to be dull. Boys, we just found ourselves a good time."

♥

Buffy glanced up from the television when she heard the door open. "Spike?"

"Yeah, it's me," he called, dropping his bags beside the door. He pulled his duster off and hung it over the stair railing before he walked into the living room. "How's your back?"

"It's fine." She muted the television and looked up at him. "I don't think you caused it. I hope that doesn't disappoint you."

"Hah, funny." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Do you have pain a lot?"

"It comes and goes." She shrugged so softly it was barely noticeable.

"I see." He mentally filed that away and glanced toward the darkened kitchen. "Where's Joyce?"

"She went to bed early. Headache." Buffy pointed at the television. "There's a good movie starting in ten minutes."

"Good by whose standards?" He grinned, but sat down on the sofa.

"Hey!" Buffy rolled back and grabbed a pillow, tossing it at him playfully. "I have excellent taste in movies!"

Spike put the pillow behind him. "What is it?"

"'The Bodyguard.' Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner."

"Oh, bloody hell! Chick flicks are awful."

"What's your favorite movie?"

"'Hellraiser.' 'Friday the Thirteenth.' 'Halloween.' 'Nightmare on Elm Street.'"

"I rest my case." Buffy giggled and shook her head. "So, how bad was shopping with Giles?"

"Not too bad. He paled a little when I took him into that punk store, but he was fine."

"You took Giles into Punk Town? I wish I could have been there for that!" She laughed again, then frowned when she remembered where she was sitting. Running her palms over the arms of her chair, she sighed and shook her head. "They don't actually have wheelchair friendly shopping at the mall."

"I got you something, actually." Spike bit his bottom lip, watching as her face brightened considerably.

"From Punk Town?" Buffy tried to remain calm, but her heart slammed in her chest at the thought of him buying her something, regardless of where it came from.

"Would that be so bad?" Spike stood and walked into the foyer to retrieve her package. "Oh, dammit! I left it in Giles' car!"

Buffy rolled back, about to tell him that they could call him, when something shattered the front window and rolled across the floor. The flaming liquor bottle landed right in front of her and she screamed.

Spike rushed back into the living room and saw the fire. He grabbed the bottle and threw it back through the window, then yanked the blanket off her and smothered the small flame that was burning the rug. He looked at her, making sure she wasn't hurt, and the bottle flew through the window again.

"Oh god, Spike!" Buffy shouted, when the bottle shattered and the fire spread along the floor, following whatever flammable liquid was inside.

"I have to get you out!" Spike scooped her up and motioned Joyce, who had come running down the stairs, toward the door.

Joyce snatched it open and yelped when she saw a vampire, completely morphed, staring back at her. Spike kicked the door shut and laid Buffy on the floor. "They can't come in! We have to put this fire out."

♥

Xander noticed that Spike had forgotten Buffy's package halfway across town and Giles had turned around. Xander was humming along to the radio when they turned onto Revello Drive. He was the first to notice the movement in Buffy's front yard and the first to see the smoke billowing out of the broken front window. "Giles, do you still have that supersoaker in the trunk?"

"Yes." He stopped the car halfway down the block and stepped out.

Xander met him at the trunk and grabbed a stake and the watergun. "I do hope you had it blessed."

"Always." Giles grabbed the crossbow and headed toward the Summer's house.

They moved as one, keeping close to the shadows. As soon as Buffy's lawn was in sight, Giles kneeled down and quickly dusted two of the vampires. It caught the attention of the others and Giles nodded at Xander. "You move as fast as you can, get the water hose turned on and feed it through that broken window. We have to worry about the fire as well."

The vampires were advancing fast and Xander nodded. "Not before I smoke these." He aimed and fired, sending a steady stream of Holy Water into their faces. As he pumped and sprayed, he moved around them closer to the house.

The vampires began to howl as the water burned them and Giles did a quick count. There were seven in all. Xander had effectively sprayed all of them, causing a momentary pause. He used that to his advantage and reloaded the crossbow, quickly dusting another and taking the odds down to six against two.

Xander moved fast as he got closer to the water spigot and heard voices inside Buffy's house. He turned the knob and grabbed the hose, trying to toss it through the broken window. A hulking vampire tackled him, knocking the water gun out of his hands and sending him sprawling. Xander clawed for it, trying hard to stretch far enough to retrieve it, but the vampire kicked him in the gut. He rolled onto his back, pulled the stake from his pocket and held it upward when the demon lunged for him. A plume of dust fell around him and he grabbed his gun again, just in time to spray two vampires that were advancing.

Rolling fast, he grabbed the hose, which was gushing water and fed it through the window. He heard Giles scream at him, felt hands grip him from behind, and was tossed through the air like a rag doll.

Inside the Summer's home, the fire was crawling up the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen. Joyce hacked roughly, using the fire extinguisher she had retrieved from the kitchen. Spike had one as well, but wasn't bothered by the smoke. He heard Joyce choking beside him and pushed her away. "Get out of here! I can get the rest!"

Joyce nodded and turned. She made her way back toward the front door, blinded by the smoke. "Buffy!" The spot beside the door was vacant and she screamed again. "Buffy, where are you?"

Spike looked over his shoulder, trying to see what was happening, when he heard Buffy coughing behind him. He spun, just in time to see her crawling toward the water hose. "She's here! Get her to fresh air!"

Joyce stumbled into the room and gripped Buffy under the arms, dragging her into the kitchen. She opened the back door and pulled Buffy as close as she could without making it possible for the vampires to grab her. Together, they lay side by side, both coughing so hard they could barely breathe the clean air. Finally, Buffy wheezed out, "Giles. Xander. Front yard."

"What do you want me to do, honey?"

"Put me in my chair, Mom. Give me my crossbow." Buffy pulled herself upward and tugged at Joyce. "Please? Just open the front door and let me do something!"

"No." Spike spoke up from the doorway, his face covered with ash. "It's too late."

Part Six

"Too late?" Buffy fanned the smoke, trying hard to see Spike's face. "Giles? Xander? Are they—"

She heard loud coughing coming from the living room and craned her neck to see. Relief flooded through her when she saw two silhouettes appear in the doorway. Her mother got to her feet and turned the kitchen light on and Buffy latched onto Spike as he lifted her and sat her in one of the kitchen chairs. Bathed in the light, Xander and Giles both looked as if they had been hit with a car. One side of Xander's face was bloody from a gash in his forehead and Giles had a nosebleed and purple bruises along one side of his jaw.

Clearing her throat, Buffy glanced at her friend. "Xander, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine." He took the icepack that Joyce held out to him and allowed the woman to mop at the blood with a towel. "For about thirty more minutes. After I call Anya and let her know what's happened, she will kill me."

"Why?" Buffy cringed along with him as her mother checked his head.

"It's fine." Xander held a hand up to Joyce, then looked at Buffy. "We had a ten a.m. picture taking session in the morning."

"I'm sorry." She bit her lip and looked at Giles, who was massaging his forehead with his fingertips. "I'm sorry, Giles."

Giles glanced at her, squinting to see her clearly since his glasses had been broken in the fight. "It's fine, Buffy. It wasn't your fault."

Spike spoke up for the first time. "It was mine." He had been leaning against the island in the middle of the room, watching the others, and as he spoke, he headed toward the basement door. "They must have seen us at the shopping mall and followed us here."

"Spike." Buffy watched him open the door and take a step inside. "Where are you going?"

He stopped walking and sighed. "It's me they want. As long as I'm here, they'll keep coming."

"You said you would help me," she quietly pointed out.

Spike turned on his heel and came back into the kitchen. "Did you see what they did to your house?" He shouted at her, leaning over her. He pointed to Xander and Giles. "And what about your friends? They're lucky to be alive, no thanks to me."

Xander stood up abruptly and walked out of the room, mumbling something about calling Anya.

"They want me too!" she yelled back at him. "It's not just about you and you said you would help me! You gave me your word!"

Spike pushed away from the table and looked away. "I'm a vampire. My word doesn't count for much."

Giles leaned against back in his chair and watched as the vampire headed back toward the basement. He noticed Spike's closed off expression and cleared his throat. "I have something to say."

Buffy looked at the floor, trying to focus on the linoleum through her tear-filled eyes. Spike stood in the doorway of the basement, his jaw clenched tightly as he waited for the man to speak.

Taking a deep breath, Giles collected his thoughts and said, "This was no one's fault. The threat of these vampires finding out Spike's whereabouts was always there. This rather unfortunate occurrence has not changed the fact that Buffy still needs to be cared for and Spike still needs a place to stay."

"I can't stay here," Spike growled, his face masking into that of the demon inside of him. "Just because they have to be invited in doesn't mean I'm safe." He pointed at Buffy and Joyce and shook his head. "It doesn't mean that they are safe. They will come back and who knows what they will do next."

"They'll come back with you gone, too. What would we have done if you weren' t here tonight, Spike?" Joyce asked. She knew her daughter well and she knew that Buffy *needed* him to stay. The change in her in just the past few days was remarkable.

"You would have gone to bed without almost being burned alive." Spike forced the demon away and walked back into the kitchen. "There is nothing we can do. They know where I am. Unless I leave‹"

"Fine! Just leave! Go! Everyone always does!" Buffy shouted and pressed her palms down on the table, almost as if she had forgotten she was paralyzed and was going to push herself up. Her hands made contact with the wood and she hissed in pain, snatching them away and examining her flesh. Both palms had cuts in them, but her left one had a piece of glass wedged just below the skin.

Spike beat Joyce to where Buffy was sitting and took one of her hands in his. "You're hurt."

Buffy snatched her hand away. "You don't work here anymore."

"Just let me see it." He reached for her hand again, only to have her glare at him.

"I'd tell you to bite me, but you can't." She squared her shoulders and stared the blond vampire in the eye. "And, Giles, I want you to perform that uninvite spell on Spike. If he wants out, he's out for good."

Giles' eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. "Of course! That's it! A spell!"

Xander came back into the room with the ice on his head. He moved aside as Giles rushed past him and grabbed the phone, then he turned to speak to Joyce. "Uhm, Ms. Summers, I can't find Anya and my mom won't come and get me, even though I told her I'm practically comatose. Could you maybe give me a ride home? I'd ask Giles, but those vampires took out their frustration on his car as they ran away."

Joyce nodded. "Of course."

"Mom!" Buffy held up her hands. "Could you help me first?"

"I've got it," Spike told Joyce. "You get him home."

Buffy watched her mother walk away and then glared at Spike. "You aren't touching me with a ten foot pole."

He smirked at her, turned as if he was going to walk away, and then spun and lifted her from her seat before she even realized it. Without the use of her lower limbs, all she could do was punch him, but after two attempts, she stopped and settled for scowling at him as he walked up the stairs. Spike took her into her bedroom and sat her on the bed. "I'll be right back."

"Thanks for the warning," she called after him. The second he disappeared around the corner, she broke down. It would be unbearable without him there every day. Since he had mentioned leaving in the kitchen, she'd had a dull ache in her chest. It wasn't logical, it wasn't wise, but she needed him. He had to stay.

Spike took the first aid kit from under the sink and waited for a small basin to fill with warm water. He glanced at where his reflection should have been in the mirror and slumped against the sink. The prospect of leaving after he had made so much headway with Buffy would have been unthinkable if the circumstances were different. He felt at home here and he had not felt that in ages. And he was a fool to let himself believe that he would ever fit into her world.

The basin overflowed and he dropped a towel onto the floor, then made his way back to her room. She was still in the same position, with her hands cradled in her lap, but her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs. He pulled a chair from under her vanity, sat before her, and put the bowl in his lap. Saying nothing, he took the hand with the glass still in it and dipped it into the water.

Buffy watched as he used a pair of tweezers to work the glass free. Fresh blood flowed and she groaned when he pressed his finger against the small hole. It didn't hurt badly, but the contact of his cool flesh against hers reminded her that this could be the last time he touched her at all. Another sob caught in her throat and she didn't even bother to choke it back.

"I don't mean to hurt you." He glanced up at her, then back at her hand, loosening the pressure he was applying.

"Then don't go." She put her free hand in the bowl on top of his. "Please?"

Spike put the tweezers on the night table and brushed his thumb over her cheek. "You'll be fine. Your mum will get someone else."

"I won't be fine. I can't do anything! I couldn't even help Giles and Xander!" She took a deep breath. "I want *you*!"

"Buffy, anything that I can do for you can be done by someone else."

"No." Her voice cracked again. "Aren't you listening to me? I. Want. You."

Spike felt her thumb on the back of his hand, massaging small circles, and he glanced down at it. Surely she couldn't mean that in the literal sense. She was saying that she wanted him to stay, not that she wanted him. He felt her take the towel he had draped over his shoulder and then her hand was on his cheek.

"Look at me, Spike," she whispered.

He raised his head and she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his lightly. For a split second, he was too stunned to react. She leaned closer, running her hand up his shoulder and behind his neck, increasing her pressure. Spike relaxed against her and opened his mouth, letting her tongue dance across his as he inhaled the sweetness of her skin.

Buffy heard footsteps on the stairs and pulled back, coloring slightly when she realized how bold she had been. Spike sat upright, and busied himself with washing off the last of the blood, as Giles stepped into the room. He dried Buffy's hand absently and pretended to study the wound, anxious to do anything other than make eye contact with her.

"I have wonderful news." Giles smiled proudly. "Tara and Willow are on their way to do a hallowing spell. We're going to put a ward on the house and make it impossible for any demons to step into the yard without an invitation."

"Can demons be in the house?" Buffy glanced at Spike shyly, then back at Giles. "I mean, can Spike stay?"

"Yes, his invitation will stand as long as he is inside when the spell is performed." Glancing over Spike's shoulder, he watched as the vampire carefully applied ointment to the cuts and began wrapping the wounds on her hands. "Buffy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just a few scratches," she replied with a shrug. "You should go make sure that mom gets in the house okay. I don't want her outside alone when she gets back."

"Right you are. I'll go watch for her." Giles turned quickly and retreated down the stairs.

Spike secured a final piece of tape on her hands and wiped his own with the towel. A million different thoughts ran through his head, none of them making any sense. She had *kissed* him. Not a thank you kiss, not a friendly kiss, but a kiss full of passion and heat. His lips were still numb from it, but his mind was racing.

"Spike?" Her eyes searched his face, silently begging him to relent. "Will you stay?"

Standing, he glanced down at her, trying to weigh his options. Outside this house he faced the threat of his own kind, but inside he faced the threat of the Slayer, a vampire's worst enemy. In her given state, she couldn't do much damage to him physically, but mentally, she could destroy him. She was reaching out to him because he was the closest thing she had to reach for and if he allowed her to do that, she would wind up resenting him for it. No, he had to leave. Leave the house, leave the town, leave *her* before it was too late.

"Please don't say no," Buffy pleaded.

He let his gaze wash over her face, taking in her pouty lips, her trembling chin, and finally locking on her clear green eyes.

It was too late.

♥

Buffy awoke the next morning to the sound of a saw and hammering. She glanced at the clock and sighed, wondering why anyone would be using power tools at such an ungodly hour. Then she remembered everything: the damage to her house, the vampires attacking Giles and Xander, and most of all, the kiss she had given Spike. He had reciprocated, she was sure of that, but he had walked out of her room without even saying a word afterward and she had cried herself to sleep.

She had been wrong to assume that he would welcome her advances. She was crippled, unattractive, and capricious. He had every right to just walk out on her. It wouldn't surprise her in the least if someone came up and told her that he had packed his things and gone during the night. That thought caused another wave of panic and she sat up. "Mom!"

Willow, who was at the foot of the stairs watching Giles and Xander tear down the wall that had been burned, heard Buffy calling and walked up the stairs. She rapped twice on her friend's door, then stuck her head in. "Hey, Buffy. Sorry about all the noise downstairs."

"It's fine. Is Spike still here?" Buffy asked casually.

"Yeah, but he's down in the basement helping your mom get some paint and stuff ready for the walls. Ooh, good news -- it didn't mess the floor up much. Of course, your mom will have to get new carpet, but the wood wasn't really damaged. Just the wall." Willow took a much needed gulp of air. "And we did the spell at dawn and tested to see if we could throw something into the house."

Buffy digested everything Willow had said. "And could you?"

"Nope. To coin that lady in Poltergeist, which Tara and I were watching last night, 'this house is clear'. Nothing's gonna hurt you guys." Willow bowed dramatically, hoping to draw a laugh from Buffy. When she heard no laughter, she stood back up and glanced at Buffy, who was fingering her cover. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just tired." The slayer ran a hand through her hair and then glanced down at her clothing. "Ugh, could you maybe go and help Spike maybe so my mom can help me into the tub?"

"Sure," Willow replied and headed toward the door, pausing before she was in the hallway. "Hey, are you hungry? I brought donuts, just like I used to in high school when we were doing research."

Buffy's stomach rolled and her heart ached at the memory of bounding through the double doors of the library and seeing her friends with their noses buried in thick books. "No, thank you." She shook her head. "I don't want anything."

Willow shrugged and headed back down the stairs and into the basement. Spike and Joyce were both digging through boxes and she cleared her throat. "Ms. Summers, Buffy wants to know if I can take over here and you would come help her with a bath."

"Oh, sure." Joyce glanced at Spike. "The paintbrushes are brand new and I'm fairly certain that they are in one of these boxes on bottom." She indicated a row of boxes underneath a set of shelves.

"I'll keep looking." Spike nodded and continued his search through the box in front of him.

Willow joined him and rifled through the box that Joyce had been going through. She watched Spike out of the corner of her eye as he put his box on the floor and grabbed another one. "So, Spike, how's it going here? Are you and Buffy getting along?"

Too well, he started to reply. Instead, he shrugged and tried to look indifferent. "We lock horns occasionally, but for the most part, things are okay."

"Is she eating and stuff?" Willow pushed her hair away from her face and pretended to be engrossed in looking for paintbrushes. She was trying to segue into asking if Buffy was acting weird at all. The rose that she had us ed to do the spell with Tara was still in full bloom and it had not even been put into any water.

"She eats like a bird, but you can tell that just by looking at her." Finding nothing, Spike swore and grabbed another box.

Willow spotted the paintbrushes in the bottom of her box, but continued to move the contents around. "How is she acting? Is she treating her mom any better? I mean, is she more agreeable?"

Spike stopped what he was doing and stared at the wall opposite them, wondering if she was getting at what he thought. "Does this game of twenty questions have anything to do with the fact that you did *another* spell?"

"Ooh! Found them!" Willow yanked the brushes from the box and waved them triumphantly. "I'll just take them to Joyce."

"She doesn't need them yet." Spike caught the red-head by the arm as she started up the stairs. "I need to know what you did to her." He silently added, because she kissed me last night and it made me weak in the knees, but I knew there was something more to it.

With a small sigh, Willow sat down on the stairs and looked up at him. "I was worried about the fact that she wasn't resolving the issues she has. She wasn't facing her paralysis and stuff and I opened her mind."

"Opened her mind?" Raising an eyebrow, Spike crossed his arms. "Is that it?"

"Well, no." Willow felt herself blushing and glanced down at her shoes. "I got a little confused with the wording and got her heart involved."

"I'm not following," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, wh-what Tara said is that if the spell worked at all, Buffy will have the strength to confront her fears and admit the truth to herself. She can admit what's in her heart, but we don't know that it worked." She remembered the rose and frowned suddenly. "Only I think it did."

"Bloody hell!" Spike wagged his finger in her direction. "The next time you want to do a spell, do something that doesn't involve your friends. Because as much as I am loathe to admit it, what happens to people around here happens to me and you don't want me on your bad side."

"Are you threatening me?" Willow asked, raising one eyebrow.

"No, I am promising you! The next time you want to do something witchy, how about you stick to the stuff that you can't muck up."

Willow gasped and shot to her feet. "I just spent all morning making sure that you have a safety net here, so I'd be a little less quick to criticize if I were you!"

"Safety net? Willow, you and your stupid tricks have made a mess of everything." Spike stopped talking before he said too much and pointed up the stairs. "Go on, give Joyce the paint brushes."

"What are you not telling me?" She eyed him suspiciously. "What have I made a mess of?"

"Go away."

"Can I fix it?"

"If I so much as smell incense on you or even think that you have done another spell with her on your mind, I will‹" He paused, rethinking the death threat he was about to issue. "Nevermind. Don't do a thing because you could just make it worse. Leave it like it is and don't screw around with her emotions or her feelings again. I mean it. She's strong enough without you interfering and if you were any kind of friend, you would have known that."

Spike crossed the room and sat on his bed, turning his back to her. She lingered for a full minute, then turned and went up the stairs. He sighed and laid back, putting the pillow over his head to drown out the sounds coming from the living room. For the first time, he admitted to himself that a part of him had wanted the Slayer's feelings to be real. A part of him had wanted that kiss to mean that she realized how lonely he was and was reaching out to him, inviting him into her life.

He had wanted it badly. That was the only logical reason that the truth was bothering him so much. Willow had caused it. Whatever she had done wrong with the spell had to be the reason that Buffy had grown so fond of him. He had definitely noticed a change in her. The previous day, when he had massaged her back, she had engaged in very civil conversation and seemed to enjoy his company. It had carried over to that night, when she had invited him to watch a movie with her.

Now it was all explained.

Except for the parts about his own feelings. Why had he been so bothered when he stumbled onto the vampires killing her in the first place? He should have been thrilled. He should have taken off his shoes and danced all over her bloody body, but instead, he stopped them and made sure Buffy was safe. Why? What made him try so hard to help her and to see to it that she was fed and comfortable? He could tell himself that it was to save his own life, but he could have easily left town and avoided the trouble.

He would have to tell Joyce that he would stay on until she could find someone else and until then, he would have to see to it that he didn't give Buffy any false hope. Since there would be no spellcasting to reverse it, he would have to make her feelings go away on his own.

He was evil.

He could do it.

♥

Joyce was pleasantly surprised when Buffy asked to wear one of her old sun dresses. Her daughter had explained that it was easier to do what she needed to do in the restroom if she wasn't wearing shorts or pants with snaps and zippers. Joyce helped her dress and stood back to watch as Buffy grabbed a big round brush from the vanity and began drying her hair straight. Smiling, Joyce left her to her business and turned to go down the stairs.

Spike met her at the top and said, "Can I speak with you privately?"

"Sure." Joyce took him into her bedroom and closed the door. "Is everything okay?"

"I don't think so." Spike ran his hand through his hair and shifted uncomfortably in the stiff new shirt he had purchased the night before. "I'm officially giving you notice to find someone else to care for Buffy. I'll stay until you do."

Gasping, Joyc