Chapter 4: Trust

         The party was going pretty good. They were about an hour into it when Spike noticed the demon girl urging Xander to do something. The whelp looked pretty apprehensive about it, but eventually caved in. He walked up to Spike and pulled a book out from one of his pockets.

         “Hey.” Xander greeted him a bit nervously. Spike gave him a questioning look.

         “I uh…well, see….um, Anya and I got this for you. Dawn helped us pick it out. She thought you’d like it.” Xander said as he held the book out to Spike.

         From the other side of the room Dawn saw the exchange and quickly walked over to see Spike’s reaction.

         Spike was looking down at the book with an unreadable look on his face. Dawn smiled widely.

         “You like it? I saw that you had all of these poetry books up here the other day. So I figured, hey, the guy likes poetry. I even marked the page of one that I thought you’d like.” Dawn said proudly.

         “Er, thanks.” Spike said a little awkwardly. He did like poetry, but he didn’t know how he felt about the Scoobies knowing about his softer side. He was a bit shocked when Xander didn’t make any jibes at him though.

         “What, no wise cracks about me bein’ all soft and poofy like?” Spike looked up at Xander.

         “Well, I won’t lie, it is tempting. But strange as it sounds, I kinda respect you now.” Xander said nervously.

         “No need to get all mushy on me, mate.” Spike teased.

         “Shut up.” Xander said, pushing him on the shoulder good-naturedly. Spike chuckled and opened the book to the page Dawn had marked for him. He grinned when he saw the poem. He gave Dawn a nod of thanks and cleared his throat, looking directly at Buffy.
 

“Of dark and light, mysteries cried out
look here, look here and learn of fear.
Unutterable deeds of men does shout
For mankind to shed but a single tear.

Past and present coalesce.
Single minded passions run
till bowed they angrily acquiesce
to that which foul deeds are done.

As the hawk does stalk the dove
elusive dreams shatter with morn.
And over all the triumph of love
the seeds from which hope is born.

what is love without the pain?
And what is light without the dark?
To savor the sun there must be rain,
'ere we come home, must embark.

Of fear and pain our estate
inherent from the opened locks.
but worth the cost to fill our plate
With the final content of Pandora's box.”

        “Wow.” Buffy breathed. The rest of the gang was making other comments of approval, but Buffy and Spike weren’t paying attention to anything except each other. Buffy was smiling and Spike loved it. It was a real smile, not those fake ones she had gotten used to wearing since she came back. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled back at her.

        “Remind you of anyone, luv?”

         Buffy answered him by grabbing him by the shirt and kissing him passionately. He didn’t even notice when he dropped the poetry book on the ground.

         “Wow, that’s hot!” Anya remarked, fanning herself with her hand. The others stood slightly slack jawed, but none of them could truly be shocked. They all had suspected as much.

         “Xander, why don’t you kiss me like that anymore? You used to kiss me like that.” Anya grumbled with her arms crossed.

         “Well, I …uh, well…” Xander muttered, unable to reply.

         “Guys…?” Dawn tried to get Buffy and Spike’s attention when they did not break the kiss.

        “Guys?” She said a bit more forcefully. The couple apparently had forgotten there were other people in the room.

        “GUYS!!” Dawn shouted again when they started to get a little indecent. The couple broke off suddenly, realizing again that they had guests. Buffy was blushing furiously.

         “So…uh, cards anyone?” Spike said as he swaggered a bit from the intensity of the kiss. Dawn laughed at the goofy grin Spike had plastered on his face.

         They played cards for hours, Buffy and Spike kicking the other Scobbie’s asses. When they all got bored (and the majority of them bankrupt) they tossed in their cards, trying to figure out what else to do.

         “Tell us what you were like when you were human.” Dawn asked Spike.

         “What?” Spike looked at her incredulously, like she had grown a second head.

         “Well we heard some stuff when identity crisis chick was messing with you. Now we’re all curious.” Dawn explained. Spike looked appalled.

         “No way nibblet!” Spike protested. Then Dawn did something Spike dreaded. Something that always made him cave in. She gave him her puppy dog eyes.

         “Pleeeeaaase Spike?” She pouted. Spike growled in annoyance, trying to look away from her pleading eyes, but the damage was already done. He looked around at the Scoobies waiting for ridicule but he only saw curiosity in their faces.

         “Yeah Spike, tell us about our favorite neighborhood vamp.” Buffy added, giving her own version of puppy dog eyes. Now he was really done for. Spike sighed in defeat and disgust.

         “Fine! Why not? S’not like my dignity isn’t ruined already.” Spike grumbled as he sat down in his armchair. The rest of the Scoobs made themselves comfortable, waiting to hear his story.

         “Well uh…” Spike swallowed audibly, raking a hand through his blonde hair. He sighed and sat forward resting his elbows against his knees, preparing to spill all.

         “Well it’s like this; I was born William Walden III. My father was an upper class prat who was the president of a prominent bank in London. I forget which one. Anyway…my mum was a nice lady. Distant, but nice. She was the typical upper class bint; her father arranged her marriage to my Da, the richest man in London at the time. She was about 16 when she gave birth to me…” Spike paused to grab a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. If he was going to tell his sordid nancy-boy past, he was gonna look cool when he did it.

         “So anyways, by the time I was 25 or so, I fancied myself a poet. I had all sorts of opportunities for careers at the time, my Da offered me a position at his bank, and I could’ve attended Oxford to become a doctor, that sort of thing. But back then, being the little prat that I was, I figured that poetry was my forte, so I began to write the most God-awful stuff you could ever read, whilst attendin’ parties and such, as was the proper thing to do in those days. I fell in love with a bint named Cecily. She was the most popular girl, the one that all the gents tried to woo. ‘Course, me bein’ the bloody fool I was, I figured I had a chance to woo her with my words. I was writin’ a poem about her durrin’ one of those parties, tryin’ to describe the feelings I had for her.  So anyways, this wanker takes my poem from me and reads it in front of everyone, just as Cecily entered the room. Everyone knew that I had a crush on her, so she was real embarrassed like, and fled the room. As I went after her, I heard some of those wankers say some things they would regret later on…” Spike paused to take a drag on his cigarette and gauge the reactions from the gang. Everyone remembered what those people said to him when the First morphed into the people from his past, but they were all listening intently, none of them reaching for a stake or making fun of him, so he continued.

         “Right, so anyway, I went after her and found her bein’ all distressed and ladylike fanning herself. She asked me if the poems were about her, and I said yeah, and she got all flustered like. I told her that I loved her and that I was a good man and all that rot, but she rejected me…. She….she told me that I was nothing to her. That I was beneath her.” Spike said as he flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot. He kept his gaze steady on the ground, not wanting to look into the faces of his friends. Spike had to bite back a chuckle at that last thought. His friends. William the bloody has human friends. Still, even if it did make him feel like a nancy-boy, he liked having them as his friends. It made him feel needed. The First Evil proved to him that his greatest nightmare was to not be needed. Well actually that, and Buffy’s death. It was a close tie. Pushing back these thoughts, he continued.

         “So after having my heart broken mercilessly, I stormed out from the party, tearing my poems to shreds. I ducked into an alleyway and sat down. That’s where Dru found me…” Spike said as he took another cigarette out, lighting it. He inhaled the smoke and blew it out again before continuing.

         “You all can probably guess what happened next. She said the right words to me and next thing I know, I’m wakin’ up inside a coffin. Now keep in mind I didn’t have control of my demon back then…I was no better than a blood thirsty newly risen vamp. But Dru and Angelus were there, waiting for me. That’s one of the differences between minions and Childer. Sire’s come for their Childer. They are there when you first awaken, to teach you, to train you. Dru was pretty worthless in the teaching department, so Angelus was kind of my surrogate Sire. The rest is rather unpleasant, specially for a PG-13 audience, Lil’ bit.” Spike glanced at Dawn. Dawn just rolled her eyes.

         “When did you start to control your demon?” Dawn asked, ignoring him. Spike let out an exasperated sigh and sat back in his chair, taking another drag from his cigarette.

         “Didn’t take long. The day or so I was like an animal. It took a little while for me to balance out the demon, and take control of it. After that, I found I had quite a knack for irritating Angelus. Drove him off his bloody rocker at times. He’s tried to stake me so many times I’ve lost count.” Spike chuckled at the memories.

         “What did you do to him?” Xander asked eagerly, excited to hear new ways at tormenting Angel. Spike laughed at the boy’s curiosity.

         “Well, lets see…” Spike paused, conjuring up memories. “About a month after I was turned we were hiddin’ out in Yorkshire, England. I caused a stir in London by killin’ off those blokes at that party. The whole town went nuts, formin’ a bloody riot. I was havin’ the time of my bloody un-life rilin’ up that lot. But Angelus, the wuss he is, made us hide out in a soddin’ coal mine in Yorkshire. Chapped his hide somethin’ fierce, that did. He damn near staked me, again. The bloody fool was goin’ on about how I was ruin’ his soddin’ reputation.” Spike snorted.

         “How did you get the nickname ‘Spike’?” Dawn asked.

         “Do you really need to ask that, nibblet?” Spike gave her a ‘you know why’ look.

         “Are there any stories without mayhem, blood and torture?” Buffy asked pointedly.

         “Er, yeah actually…”  Spike scratched his head nervously. Then he grinned as a memory surfaced. “Alright kiddies, this one could be considered a horror story for some of us.” Spike grinned conspiratorially at Xander.

         “There was this one time in Paris, the four of us were looking for a good time. This was around…oh, 1890 or so. There was this new nightclub we’d heard of called ‘the Red Windmill’, or as you’d know it, ‘Le Moulin Rouge’.  We’d been prattling around Europe lookin’ for some good hunting grounds. Dru said that ‘the pretty lights ’ and ‘dancing faeries’ were calling to her, or some such rot. Anyway, we found the club and got in. Now durrin’ those times a dance like the ‘can-can’ was practically scandalous, so I was havin’ a good ol’ time. Angelus, bein’ the damn stick in the mud that he is, was getting bored and insisted that we leave. By that time the drinks that we ordered came, so we drank. I just had some bourbon, whilst Angelus always did like the stronger stuff. He had Absinthe. Pretty much that’s a mixture of Opium and Vodka. The prat loosened his collar considerably after that. By the time he was on his third shot he was out on the dance floor kickin’ his legs along with the bloody ‘can-can’ dancers!” Spike laughed, barely able to finish his sentence. The gang was snickering at the mental image.

         “Oh, but that’s not all. Then the git started to sing horribly to whatever song they had playin’! I think that had to be the worst of it, he’s a bloody awful singer! The git sounds a cat in heat mixed with a dying cow!” Spike laughed as he grimaced at the memory, whist the Scoobies were practically in stitches, laughing. Harris was wiping tears from his eyes from laughing so hard.

         “Oh man, I am so going to have to bring that up next time I see him!” Xander commented.

         “That is so cool that you went to the Moulin Rouge! Is it anything like the movie?” Dawn asked eagerly.

         “The new one? I wouldn’t know platelet, I haven’t seen it.” Spike shrugged.

         “Oh! We are *so* gonna have to rent it! Can we Buffy, please?” Dawn begged.

         “I guess. We could have a movie night. We haven’t done that in a long time.” Buffy commented.

         “Cool!” Dawn squealed in excitement.

         “Oi! Then there was this one time I caught peaches tryin’ on Dru’s dresses…” Spike started to say, but Buffy cut him off.

         “Maybe another time, for that story Spike. It’s way past your bedtime Dawnie. We should get going.” Buffy said as she stood up.

         “Do we have to?” Dawn whined.

         “YES. It’s past midnight, and you have school tomorrow.” Buffy said.

         “School sucks.” Dawn mumbled as she rose to her feet.

         “Well, I suppose we should all call it a night then.” Willow said as she and Tara stood, as did Xander and Anya. They all picked up their’ messes, throwing the trash into the grocery bag they had brought, as Dawn gathered up the cards and chips from their poker game.
 

Earlier, when Dawn had suggested that they played poker, Spike had been pleased when he
saw Buffy blushing several shades of red. He knew that she was thinking the same thing that he was. "Does that last one involve stripping?”  When she had looked up at him, he raised his eyebrows suggestively, which caused her to duck her head and blush even more. She had been so flustered that she nearly hit the roof when Dawn had suggested that they play strip poker, jokingly of course.

         “We’ll see you around Spike, and welcome to the gang.” Willow called out cheerfully as she headed to the door.

         “Later Red.”

         “Bye.” Tara said shyly as she followed Willow. Spike nodded and gave her his sexiest grin, which caused the shy witch to blush as she scrambled out the door.

         “See ya around Jr. You up for a game of pool sometime?” Xander asked.

         “Sure, if you’re in the mood for loosing your money.” Spike replied. Xander just glared at him in mock annoyance as he left.

         “Good bye Spike. I hope you don’t kill us now that we trust you. That would be bad.” Anya replied a little too cheerily while smiling.

         “Er, right. I won’t.” Spike replied awkwardly, shaking his head as he watched the demon girl join Xander and the others outside his crypt.

         “I’m just gonna tuck Dawn in, then I’ll be back for patrol. You up for it?” Buffy asked.

         “Always luv.” Spike purred with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. Buffy blushed, his double entendre not lost on her.

         “Right, patrolling.” Dawn said, disbelieving. Nothing was lost on her. “G’night Spike. Love ya.” Dawn said, kissing his cheek. Spike scratched his head nervously at her show of affection.

         “Er, right….’night, nibblet. Don’t let the bed vamps bite.”

         “What am I, five?” She retorted as she joined the rest of the scoobs outside.

         “I’ll be back in an half hour. See ya then.” Buffy kissed him and walked out the door. Spike stood there for a couple of minutes and stared at the door that the group had just exited minutes ago.

         “What a bloody strange week.” He said out loud, fingering the amulet around his neck.

         Two weeks later, since Willow and Tara had given Spike the Amulet of Brytanor, Spike had started to keep daylight hours. It wasn’t too difficult since he didn’t sleep much during the day anyway, but now thanks to the amulet, he could do other things instead of being holed up in his crypt all day, and had no need for SPF blanket. Buffy had bought him some sunglasses, and Dawn had gave him some suntan lotion. He was a bit apprehensive about going out into the sun at first. Who wouldn’t be after one hundred and twenty seven years of avoiding it? So it took him some time getting used to. But now he loved the sun… aside from the one unfortunate day where he sat outside too long and got a nice sunburn. He thanked whatever Gods for vampire healing, or else he would have been one crispy critter for a whole week at least.

         Then last week he realized he could get a job, now that he could go out in the daylight, and had a reflection. They had gotten past the obstacle of a birth certificate, Green card and all of that legal paperwork thanks to Willow. Since her absence from magic she had reverted back into ‘hacker’ persona, so the job of getting Spike legal documents was a much-needed project for her. When all was said and done, Anya had hired him at the Magic Box, mostly for grunt work, but soon the group learned that he had quite an extensive knowledge of magic- black magics mostly- and demons.

         It had almost unnerved the group a little to find that there was a loophole in the chip that he could have used all of this time. The chip didn’t go off if he used magic, and he knew some pretty nasty spells. When questioned why he didn’t use them, he simply replied with a shrug: “I never did like usin’ that hocus pocus stuff. That was Angelus and Dru’s obsession. I figured it was like cheating, and what’s the fun in that? Give me a good ol’ fashioned brawl any day.”

         After that the group trusted him even more. He was truly accepted into the core of the Scooby gang, and it wasn’t just because he was now Buffy’s boyfriend. Spike was still reeling from that alone. He was the happiest he had ever been, and he didn’t care how much of a sap that made him. He accepted it now. He really was a nancy-boy, ‘specially when it came to the Summer’s girls.

         Dawn was the more manipulative of the two. All she had to do was turn those puppy-dog eyes on him, and he basically did whatever she wanted.

        He wasn’t just Buffy’s willing slave, apparently.

         One day he was pleasantly surprised by Buffy. She led him into her room with a secretive smile on her face.

         “What’s this all about pet?” Spike asked.

         “I kind of have a little surprise for you.”

         “Just as long as it’s not long, pointy and made of wood.” Spike chuckled.

         “Well, actually, it is made of wood…” Buffy smiled sweetly as she pulled open the third drawer of her dresser. Spike peeked in. It was empty.

         “Uh, luv?” Spike said questioningly. “The drawer is empty.”

         “I know. It’s for you.”

         “An empty drawer? Awww, luv, you shouldn’t have.” Spike teased, not getting why she was giving him an empty drawer.

         “You dork, it’s for you to put your clothes in. ‘Cause, you know, you spend the night over here all the time, and it really makes no sense for you to run back to your crypt every morning to get some clean clothes.” Buffy said, slightly fidgeting under his gaze.

         “Is this…. A relationship thing?” Spike questioned.
 

Spike was still a little lost when it came to relationships with humans. He had never been with a human, so little things like having a drawer for your clothes at your girlfriends house was kind of confusing for him. Their’ first date had been interesting to say the least.

         “Yeah.” Buffy replied.

         “Then I love it.” Spike grinned and kissed her.

         “Eww, get a room!” Dawn teased from Buffy’s doorway.

         “We have a room nibblet. You’re the voyeur here.” Spike teased back. Dawn curled up her nose, turned and went into her room, turning up her CD player.

         “She plays that bloody song all the time!” Spike growled in annoyance as the music filtered through the paper-thin walls.

         “Well whose fault is it for buying her the CD and the CD player, daddy vamp?” Buffy grinned. Spike glared at her.

         “It’s sickening how she manipulates me. Who ever heard of a soddin’ master vampire bein’ manipulated by a 16 year old girl?” Spike grumbled in what he hoped was a menacing voice, but it was far from it.

         “Blame it on the Hell-mouth, honey.” Buffy replied with an impish grin as she swatted his rear-end playfully.

         “Mmm, pet, don’t start somethin’ you’re not gonna finish.” Spike warned with a lustful gaze.

         “Is sex all you ever think about?” Buffy asked.

         “Only around you, luv.” He chuckled as he advanced toward her, pulling her into his arms.

         “Spike, you know we can’t start this now… later, tonight.” Buffy meekly tried to push him away as he nuzzled her neck and began purring. That always sent tinglies down her spine and made her stomach do flip-flops.

         “You started it, luv.” Spike reminded her as he placed kisses on her neck.

         “And I’m going to stop it too. Dawn’s in the house, we can’t do this now.” Buffy reminded him. There had been an unpleasant incident about a week ago when Buffy and Spike had lost track of time, and didn’t realize that Dawn had come home from school.
 

Dawn entered the house, and once she heard the growls, moans and other pleasure-filled noises coming from upstairs, she turned right around and sat on the front porch, waiting outside until they were finished. Spike had found here out there when he went out for a cigarette. She wouldn’t look him in the eyes, and had turned a deep shade of red, similar to the color of Willow’s hair. After that, they had to learn how to keep their’ hormones in check.

         “Alright, luv. I’ve got to stop by the butchers and pick up a few pints. I’ll grab my clothes on the way back.”  He said, giving her a swift kiss and heading out the door.

         “Bye.” Buffy called out after him.

         “Be back in a few nibblet.” Spike yelled to her over his shoulder as he went down the stairs and headed to the door.

         “Can I come with?” Dawn jumped off her bed and ran down the stairs to meet him in the hallway by the door.

         “What for? I’m just going to the butchers and stopping by my crypt.”

         “Yeah, but that new store ‘Four corners’ is across the street from the butchers, and I have been dying to go check it out. Please Spike?” Dawn pleaded, flashing him the dreaded puppy eyes. Spike sighed in defeat.

         “Bloody fantastic. Manipulated by a sixteen year old girl.” Spike mumbled to himself. “Go ask your sis. If it’s alright with her, you can come.”

         Dawn rushed upstairs, and he could hear the girls talking in Buffy’s room. After a few seconds of debating, Buffy agreed, Dawn squealed in excitement and came bounding down the stairs.

         “She said yes!” Dawn said happily as she pulled on her jacket. Spike pulled on his duster and opened the door.

         “Bye Buffy!” Dawn called out as she walked outside.

         “Be back soon, luv.”

         “Bye guys!” Buffy called back as the front door closed behind the two.

         “Oh my God, wait until Christy sees me wearing this at the Bronze tomorrow night!” Dawn squealed happily as she glanced inside her bag from ‘Four corners’. Spike had been reluctant to go into the ‘girly’ store, but Dawn dragged him in using her secret weapon. Spike was even more horrified when Dawn had handed him her purse and told him to sit in a chair and wait for her to try on dresses. He was left sitting in the chair, scowling at her purse.

         After she had tried on four different dresses, she came out of the fitting rooms wearing a short burgundy little red number that made her look like a Goddess. Spike’s first reaction was to jump out of the chair, demanding that Dawn go right back into that stall and take off the dress, because “No bloody way in *hell* was she going out in public wearing something like that.”

        The dress was way too sexy for a sixteen year-old girl, but Dawn had sweet-talked him into it, using her puppy dog eyes. Spike relented, swearing under his breath that Buffy was going to stake him for buying it for Dawn.

         “Yeah, yeah, just don’t let me catch you rubbing up some guy wearin’ that thing. If I see a guy touch you, chip or no, I’ll rip his throat out, got it?”  Spike swore as the two walked outside into the afternoon sun, to the butcher’s shop.

         “Geez, over-protective much?”

         “I can’t believe I’m bein’ manipulated by a sixteen year-old girl…” Spike mumbled beneath his breath. That one sentence was becoming his mantra lately.

         “Come on, you know you love me.” Dawn smiled at the flustered vampire.

         “Love to eat you.” He glared at her as he opened the door to the butcher shop, ushering her in first.

         “Right. That’s why you buy me expensive dresses and my favorite CD’s and…” Dawn started to prattle off, but Spike interrupted her.

         “I get the bloody picture!” Spike sighed as he ran a hand through his tousled hair.
 

Buffy preferred the ‘tousled look’, instead of his usual slicked back appearance. Whenever he slicked his hair back, she tousled it the first chance she got. After awhile, he just kept it styled that way. Besides, he liked how she called it the ‘just got shagged’ look.

          “What can I get for you?” The butcher behind the counter asked.

         “Four pints of the special, mate.” Spike said, and the butcher quickly glanced up at the mirror angled on the ceiling above them. He glanced at Spike in confusion upon seeing his reflection, but nodded his head anyway.

         “I’ll just be a moment.” The butcher smiled politely as he went into the back.

         Both Spike and Dawn turned to glance at the front door when they heard it open, and a tall, burly looking man walked into the butcher shop. The man looked for all the world like a redneck logger, complete with a dirty red flannel vest, tattoos up both burly arms and spit cup for his tobacco wad in his stained yellow teeth. Dawn instinctively curled up her nose in disgust. This man reeked of chewing tobacco and whiskey.

         The three stood there, waiting, and Spike glanced back at the redneck when the man appeared to be annoyed with waiting. The man charged up to the counter and pounded viciously on the metal bell to get the butcher’s attention.

         The butcher appeared from around the corner, his dingy white apron smeared slightly with blood.

         “Can I help you sir?” The butcher asked from where he stood. He suddenly looked apprehensive when he recognized the man.

         “Can a guy get some service around here? I need a dozen steaks and a rump roast.” The redneck ordered gruffly.

         “I’ll be with you in just a minute, Tony.” The butcher replied and disappeared around the corner again. The red neck grumbled in annoyance. Thirty seconds later the redneck was pounding on the bell again.

         “Can I get my order sometime today?!” The redneck shouted. Before Spike could stop her, Dawn opened her mouth.

         “Wait your turn, the guy said he’d be done in a minute.” Dawn said.

         “I wasn’t talkin’ to you little girl.” The man practically growled.

         “I’m not a little girl.” Dawn glared at the man.

         “You shut your yap kid, before I shut it for you.” The redneck glared back, pointing his finger at her. Spike was seething. No one talked to his nibblet like that. He was fighting really hard to keep his anger in check.

         “Piss off you over-grown Neanderthal.” Dawn retorted.

         “You little bitch!” The man shouted as he lunged for Dawn. Spike quickly grabbed the man’s hand and crushed his wrist in his vice-like grip. The man shouted in pain.

         “I suggest you apologize to the lady, mate.” Spike glared at the man, his voice cold and deadly.

         “Fuck off!” The man shouted and swung wildly with his other fist, but Spike anticipated it and ducked, then bobbed up and slammed his fist into the redneck’s face, sending him flying back into the wall, a good 10 ft away. The man lay there, unconscious.

         “Spike…the chip.” Dawn gazed up at him in confusion. The realization finally struck Spike. He just hit a human and he didn’t have a migraine. He looked down at his hands.

         “Bloody hell.” He whispered. He glanced back over at Dawn.

         “Are you okay nibblet?” He asked, noting the worried look on her face.

         “Yeah. Are you?”

         “I think I’ve had better days…” Spike said, glancing at the ‘over-grown Neanderthal’, lying on the ground.

         He heard a paper bag being set on the counter, and Spike glanced up to see the butcher, looking over at the redneck.

         “You do that?” The butcher asked Spike.

         “Yeah, mate. Sorry ‘bout the mess.” Spike replied. Then to his shock, the butcher smiled.

         “Thanks. I’ve been wanting to do that to him for months.” The butcher motioned to the unconscious logger.

         “Er, your welcome… I think.” Spike said as he dug out his wallet to pay for the blood.

         “No charge.” The butcher waved off Spike’s money and handed him the bag.

         “Thanks, mate.” Spike nodded his head in thanks and left the shop, opening the door for Dawn on the way out.

         “Bloody hell. Bloody fucking hell…” Spike paced around the upper level of his crypt as Dawn watched on.

         “Are you going to be okay?” She asked from her perch on top of one of the sarcophagi.

         “No. I’m not. This is not good. This is bloody not good!” Spike continued to pace, running his hand through his hair for the thousandth time.

         “Spike, we should get back. Buffy will start to worry about us.” Dawn said, glancing up through one of the windows. The sun was starting to set.

         “I don’t know what to do… I can’t go back there, she’ll stake me. She won’t trust me….Oh, bloody hell! They won’t trust me either! Bloody buggering hell! I’m fucked.” Spike swore as he dug through a chest in the far corner. He stood when he found what he was looking for: his bottle of bourbon. He tore off the cap and downed nearly half of it in one gulp.

         “Spike, calm down! It won’t be that bad! It can’t be!” Dawn pleaded with him.

         “No, it’s worse. Buffy won’t love me anymore. The only reason she loves me is because of the soddin’ chip! It’s the only way she’ll trust me!” Spike downed another third of the bourbon. He paused when a thought suddenly struck him.

         “I know! I’ll find some more of those Initiative buggers! There has to be some more of the blokes out there somewhere…” Spike started to get lost in thought, rambling on about finding the initiative, or loosing everything he had with Buffy and the gang.

         “Spike, stop it!!” Dawn shouted, tears springing to her eyes. Spike stopped his litany cold, and walked over to her.

         “Nibblet, don’t cry, I’m sorry. I’m just scared, that’s all.” Spike apologized, and then a pained look crossed his face. He took several steps back from her. Dawn saw his face slip into a stoic mask. Something had snapped inside the vampire. His entire body tensed up.

         “You should go nibblet. Before it gets dark. You shouldn’t be hanging around a demon like me.” Spike said as impassively as he could, his voice devoid of emotion. In reality it was tearing him up inside. For the past month he had been living in a fantasy world of sorts, in Buffy’s world. Here he could pretend that he was human. He could walk in the sun and look at himself in the mirror, thanks to the witches. Now everything was crumbling down around him. The feelings of trust and love he had with Buffy and the Scoobies had just turned to dust right in front of him. They’d never trust him now. Why should they?

         Spike looked down at his hands.

         Over a hundred years of violence, death and destruction were caused by his hands. Why should any of the Scoobies trust him, now that the chip was gone? He could see himself in their' eyes now. He was a monster.

         “I don’t want to go.” Dawn said stubbornly.

         “I said go.” He repeated coldly.

         “But..”

         “GO!!” He erupted, shouting at the top of his lungs. Dawn squeaked in surprise and quickly bolted out the crypt door, the white bag from the store flailing behind her.

         Spike hated himself. He hated that he was so harsh on her. He hated that she trusted him, when she shouldn’t. He hated that this was happening. He hated that his world was pulled out from underneath him like a rug. The world where Buffy loved him was as good as a fairy tale now.

         “Did you really think it would last, you git?” Spike asked himself out loud. The bitter answer welled up in his throat, choking him. He knew the answer. Oh, how he knew the answer. It was all too good to be true, and he knew it from the moment that Buffy and the gang accepted him.

        He downed the last of the bourbon and tossed the bottle carelessly away. It shattered against a concrete wall.

         “Why the fuck does this shit happen to me?” Spike glanced around his crypt in despair. This place wasn’t home to him anymore. Buffy and Dawn’s house was home. This was just a place were he kept his stuff, now.

         “A bleedin’ fairy tale, that’s what you’ve been living, mate. Looks like it’s time to crash back into reality.” Spike said bitterly. He looked around his crypt and realized with a broken heart what he must do. He went down to the lower levels and picked up his duffle bag, throwing his clothes, and various items into it. He lifted up the corner of his mattress pad and pulled out a small brown leather journal from underneath it. He flipped open the cover, and looked at the picture that he had stuck there not long after his party.

        Dawn had given it to him. It was a picture of all the Scoobies, Buffy and Dawn in the forefront, standing outside the Magic Box.

         With a heavy heart, Spike sat down on his bed and flipped through the pages of the book, filled with his journal entries and scant tries at poetry. He had to admit, he had gotten better than he used to be in his human days, but it was still pretty sucky. At last, he came to a blank page, and tore it out. He scribbled a note for Buffy and lay it down on his bed. He went to toss the book into his duffle bag, but stopped. He opened up the cover of the book and took out the picture, dug out his wallet and placed it in there. Placing the wallet back into his pocket, and tossing the book into his bag, he stood and made a quick sweep of the crypt, checking to see if he forgot anything.

         Sighing, he zipped up the bag and shouldered it, then climbed the ladder to the upper level. He grabbed the blood out of the fridge, and headed to the door. Glancing back as he opened it, he whispered to the empty room:

         “I’m sorry, Buffy.” He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

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