She took her beer to a corner table before anyone could see the tears that got away from her again.

Giles. Gone. Turned. Evil.

Trying to kill Dawn.

Only stopped because Spike was a weird kind of vampire.

No more teasing Giles about his clothes, no more making references to American culture that he always said he didn't get but which she figured he knew more of than he let on.

No more knowing he was backing her up, with sword or ax or chainsaw or weird languages or dirty tricks or magic or just a shoulder when she got tired.

She blinked as a glass was put on the table in front of her. "Looks like you could use something a little stronger than beer," Spike said, putting his own glass of whiskey on the table as he sat down across from her. "And, yeah, I know it's a felony to buy intoxicating spirits for underaged people, but, hey, I'm evil."

Buffy couldn't meet his eyes. She poked at one of the ice cubes in the glass. "You knew."

"Knew what?"

"About Giles."

"Well, yes, considering he was with me when he woke up."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, right. 'Lovely evening, Slayer, by the way, your Watcher's been drained and turned into a vampire.'"

"It'd be better than finding out by him . . ."

"Trying to kill your sister. I agree. It's a classic, though, most people only find out their loved one's changed when he comes to kill them." He took a drink. "Don't think there is an easy way to find out."

"How did it happen? Who did it?"

"Dru. Lovely parting gift from her last visit."

Buffy glared at him. "Would that be the last visit where you threatened to kill her to prove your love for me?" She looked away. "I knew it was your fault."

"Right, it's my fault, everything's my fault. Get it out of your system now, Slayer, because we don't have time for the sturm und drang. Dramatics," he added at her puzzled look.

She drained half her whiskey in one shot, then coughed for a few seconds. She glared at Spike, expecting him to be laughing, but there was only a tired smile in his eyes. "What did you mean, he was with you when he . . . woke up?"

"I came back to the crypt one morning and found him lying on the floor, Dru's smell all over him. Saw what she'd done."

"Why didn't you stake him?" She winced at the following image: her Giles, being staked.

"I liked the idea of him as a vamp, pet. I'm evil, remember?"

"Then I'm going to have to."

"Yeah, he told me about your deal. He talked about you a lot the first few days."

"He did?" And she actually smiled.

"Well, when he wasn't going on about hunting and such like." Spike could have kicked himself for the way her smile faded away. "I don't know what he would have done if he'd been left to his own devices, either run completely amuck or stayed up to meet the sunrise."

"Fledglings will do that?" She was fascinated in spite of herself. "I thought they were all just jump up, grr, kill."

"You don't become a Watcher without being strong willed. No common fledgling, he. There's still quite a lot of Rupert Giles in there."

Buffy played with the glass. "Then why did he go after Dawn?"

"No soul, pet, and no chip. He is the ultimate practical man, and he was doing it to help you."

"*Help* me?"

Spike shrugged. "No Niblet, no Key, Glory takes her toys and goes somewhere else, you're free to take care of Joyce and yourself."

"He said that?"

"Well," he said with a smirk, "he didn't really say it, as he's currently got some healing from a broken jaw and fractured skull to do. But he's said similar before--and I understand wanting to make things easier for you." He stared at his own glass rather than meet her eyes.

"Am I supposed to be flattered by that?"

"You're supposed to deal with it as a reality and move on."

"Great, now I've got two psychopaths trying to prove their--affection by doing horrible things. I should have staked you a long time ago."

"Yes, you should have," he snapped, leaning closer. "Never leave functioning enemies behind you."

"So what's your excuse?"

"You know my excuse." He shook himself. "But you can't stake me now, Slayer."

"And why not?"

"Because I'm the only thing holding Ripper back. He wasn't going to kill her right there on the front lawn, he had a plan. He was going to give her to a lesser fiend from a hell dimension to take away and dispose of out of Glory's reach, just in case killing her here released the Key in a way Glory could use. I found his notes. He's doing magic, Slayer, black, dark magic that would condemn a mortal sorcerer's soul, and he's making arrangements with devils."

"He was going to . . ."

"He is possibly the most practical, ruthless creature I've ever met. Probably the best Watcher to ever come along, though you'd never get the Council of Wankers to admit to that."

Buffy barely heard. "Black magic."

"Don't get much darker than summoning fiends and offering deals. Well, there's the sacrifice of a sentient creature, but I don't think he'd rule it out if he thought it was the way to go."

"Giles isn't like that--" She broke off, eyes horrified as the reality sank in. "But Giles is dead."

Spike cursed the indoor smoking rules and the bouncer who would stop him lighting up, the human bouncer he couldn't fight, not and keep his cover. Vampires as a rule didn't hang out with the families of their victims; this kind of thing was what Angel should be sitting through, he was all redemption boy these days. Spike wanted to take Buffy's hand, comfort her, try to ease her pain. And the demon alternately howled in disgust at his weakness and chortled at the Slayer's grief.

Buffy stiffened her spine. "So, I've got a dark wizard vampire out there who is trying to kill my sister. Battle plan looks obvious to me." And the cost of that battle plan was equally obvious--if she killed what was left of her Watcher, Spike didn't put good odds on what that would do to her mind.

When a vampire sighed, you knew he meant it, since he had to work for it. "You can't stake him either, pet."

It was still the Slayer looking at him, not the girl. "Why not?"

"It was a bad plan, but it was a workable plan. If we're going to stop Glory, we're going to need the Watcher's brain, and that's still all there."

She sagged, resolve drained away. "I know," she whispered. "Everyone was kind of hoping he was off working on some super secret weapon or something, and he'd show up at the last minute to save the day. But he's not. He's just gone, and we're all that's left."

This time he did take her hand. "Buffy, he may be gone, but he's still working. The vampire Ripper"--Spike paused, wondering what Anne Rice would make of that as a title-- "has as little intention of letting Glory drop us all into hell as Rupert Giles the Watcher did. That's why we need to talk. We've got to come up with a plan that works, something that keeps Ripper from casting any more black mojo and keeps you from . . ."

"Keeps me from what?" She debated pulling her hand away, but left it be and didn't ask why.

"Burning yourself out trying to carry all your heavy loads by yourself."

"You're a weird vampire, Spike."

He raised his scarred eyebrow at her. "And you're just working this out now? No wonder they give the Slayers Watchers."

She did pull her hand away, so she could cover her eyes. "Yeah, well, I don't seem to have one anymore, do I?"

"Don't see him, if you'd rather not. I can do the go-between thing."

"No . . . no, I think I'm going to have to. So I can make my gut believe . . ."

"It's going to be a couple of days before he's up to sociability."

"Willow and the others said it was a nasty fight." She didn't sound upset, more like a fellow professional asking about something work-related.

"Yeah, it was, and it was due. He may have the brains and the magic on me, but I've still got the age and experience on him. I'm not his Sire, so I've got to be a bit more hands-on in teaching him respect. And I'll do it every time he forgets."

"Until he beats you."

Spike grinned. "If he beats me, it'll be because he's finally better than me. But that'll be a bit, yet."

"You must really love having someone around you can beat up that won't trigger the chip." She was studying the last ice cubes in her whiskey glass and didn't see the fleeting smile on his face.

"Oh, yeah, it's not bad. And don't think he doesn't enjoy finally being able to get some good licks in on me."

Something lewd in his tone made Buffy look at him suspiciously, but she shook her head. She let her mind go blank for several moments, letting all her grief and confusion drift away. Then she pulled the Slayer back over her mind. "Call me when he's better. We've got Glory to settle before anything else."

He took her hand before she could stop him and raised it to her lips. "Universe has got a grudge against you, love. Everything else can wait till we've got Glory settled and your Mum on her way back."

She only let herself enjoy the comfort for a moment, then pulled away. "Later." She blinked as he stood when she did.

"Later, Slayer."

Spike watched her walk away, and he saw her nod at a couch near the stage. He hadn't even seen Red and Harris when he'd come in, too focused on the Slayer, but she'd brought back-up. Smart girl.

Red looked nearly as grief stricken as Buffy, but Harris only had eyes for Spike, dark, angry, hating eyes. Spike stared back, telling his demon that there was work still to do but, yes, there were certain names that were high on the list of People who Needed to Find Out The Chip Didn't Work Anymore. Harris didn't back down, only breaking the gaze when Willow nudged him. And he didn't look back as he escorted the witch out after Buffy.

***

"Should we be doing this here?" Xander asked Buffy.

"The Magic Box is a public place, it's safer," she answered, keeping watch on both entrances.

Xander traced a pattern on the top of the counter. "I don't know if I can do this, Buff. My brain is yelling 'Evil vampire,' but my--my gut is going 'Except-- it's Giles.'"

"I know."

After a moment, he put his arms around Buffy, who rested her head for just a moment on his shoulder. "You're nice to lean on," she said. "You've got good shoulders."

Xander blushed, and Anya, behind the counter, fidgeted unhappily. "My shoulders," she muttered. "Mine to lean on." But she didn't say it loud enough for anyone to make a fuss over.

At the table in the corner, Willow and Tara were holding hands. "We've got protection spells up," Willow said. "He won't catch us again."

"Thanks, Will."

"Though he is good," Willow mused further. "I mean, if he's doing summonings and negotiating with dark powers and expecting them to listen to him--" She broke off as Tara nudged her arm and shook her head.

Buffy wasn't listening anymore. Straightening from Xander's hold, she stared at the door. "Vampires. Two of them." She glanced at Xander, who drew back into a corner, where two loaded crossbows waited. Buffy pulled Mr. Pointy out of her pocket.

The knock on the door startled everyone. "Uh, come in!" Buffy called.

The door opened slowly. Spike scanned the whole room, marking everyone's location before stepping in. "Evening, folks."

"Spike, you knocked."

"Formal occasion, pet." He glanced around once more, then gave Buffy a questioning look. She stared at the doorway behind him, then nodded. Spike nodded to someone outside, then stepped in and to one side.

Giles appeared in the doorway and paused, likewise scanning the room. He wore blue jeans and a pullover under his leather jacket; behind the glasses, his expression was slightly apprehensive. Tara and Willow only met his eyes briefly, Tara looking nervous and Willow uncertain. Xander looked back for a moment, then divided his attention between the two vampires, his hands resting pointedly near the two crossbows.

Then he looked at the Slayer. She stared at him, her jaw muscles tight. "Hullo, Buffy," he said softly. Buffy blinked rapidly, then turned away.

Giles nodded to himself before looking at Anya. "Hello, Anya. I do apologize for abandoning you and the store like this."

The ex-demon stood back against the shelves behind the counter, out of the easy reach of vampires. "The distributors keep asking where you are. And then there's the bank. Life does go on, you know--well, at least for some of us."

Giles couldn't help laughing. "I've always admired your work ethic." He reached under his jacket. "This should make things easier." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Xander put a hand on a crossbow and the two witches raise their hands. He pretended not to notice and pulled out a legal-sized envelope. As he handed it across the counter, he noticed the cash register--and the cross leaning against the cash drawer. Anya saw his gaze and raised her chin unrepentantly, then took the envelope.

"I've already sent copies to all the distributors and I called the bank," he went on. "You should be able to take care of anyone I missed."

"What is it, Anya?" Xander asked tensely.

She stared at the document she'd pulled out of the envelope. "Formal transfer of ownership and the lease of the Magic Box to me," she whispered. Then she frowned. "For the price agreed upon." She glared at Giles. "What price? I've negotiated with vampires before, what am I agreeing on?"

Giles blinked, then smiled again. "That was just a bit of legal misdirection. No price needed between us, Anya."

"I don't think so." She grabbed her purse and pulled out her wallet. "I have fifty dollars. Xander--"

Willow cleared her throat. "Um, in situations like this, one dollar is traditional, just to show that a transfer of something of value took place."

Anya held out a dollar bill. Giles hesitated, then accepted. She picked up a pen and added the words "the sum of one dollar" to the transfer statement. "There, everything legal and aboveboard. Except that dead men can't sign contracts. Stupid mortal laws. Thank you, Giles." She smiled brightly and almost leaned forward to hug Giles, catching herself partway.

"You're welcome," Giles said. "One less thing to worry about. I'm sure you'll do well. And thank you, Willow." The witch went pink with pleasure.

Xander didn't take his hand off the crossbow. "I'm sure you're glad to be rid of the place. Running a store would probably get in the way of the carnage and the whole plotting world destruction thing. Isn't that what all the unsouled, unchipped vampires want these days?"

Giles glared at him, and Xander flinched, but he didn't look away. After a moment, Giles took breath to speak. "I have no interest in the destruction of the world. That's why I'm here."

"So the whole screaming, mayhem, blood in the streets thing doesn't get you off, unlike some undead people we could mention." Xander glared at the smirking Spike and missed the expression that flickered across Giles' face. The Ripper look, they'd come to call it, a flash of viciousness and unholy glee.

"Personal proclivities aside, I don't particularly want to see the world overrun by hellbeasts and demons as Glory rips open the dimensional walls and saunters home."

Buffy turned slowly. "And to stop that you were willing to kill my sister."

Giles met her eyes without flinching. "Yes, I was. It would have solved everything."

"Everything except for the fact of you killing my sister." He nodded in resigned acceptance. Buffy clenched her fists. "You're not even sorry, are you."

"I did regret the grief you would feel, but I felt it was necessary."

Now she believed he was a vampire. "Were you always this ruthless?"

The look he gave her was calm. "Yes, actually, I was." He glanced around the room. "Where is Dawn?"

"As if I'd tell you!" Her heart ached at the familiar scolding glance he gave her.

"There are other beings looking for her. The whole point of this is to make sure Glory does not get her hands on the girl."

"She's somewhere safe."

Giles glanced around the room, obviously wondering who was doing guard duty if everyone was here. His eyes fell on Spike, who leaned against a bookcase.

"I would take the Slayer's word for it, Rupert," Spike said quietly. "Don't worry yourself about Dawn."

"I most certainly shall worry myself about the location of the magical crux of this upcoming apocalypse--"

"Leave it."

The humans in the room shivered as the vampires glared at each other. Buffy took a cautious step back, feeling rage and violence rolling off her former mentor. Spike never shifted from his casual pose, but his eyes were not something anyone who might be considered prey wanted to see. She heard a very faint growl from one of them, refusing to admit that it could be Giles who was acting the part of the wild, vicious demon.

There was no Sire-Childe dynamic between the pair of them to force Giles to submit to Spike. The memory of the fight on the lawn, though, still twinged in his mended bones. He could gain the upper hand any time he wished, just by setting off a binding spell before he made his move. If he went that route, though, he'd best be prepared to go the whole way and finish Spike.

He fondled that thought a moment, staking Spike, being free of him and his assumptions that he was the dominant one. Free of the companionship, the guidance in this strange new world, the respect from the others that having Spike behind him brought. Yes, he had power, and those vampires who knew him walked carefully around him. But he had no illusions that he would be perceived by anyone else as anything but a fledgling that was getting above himself.

For a while, at least, he still needed Spike around. Knowledge and magic were one thing, a century of experience was something else. For now, they were stronger as a partnership than apart.

He remembered the night before, when Spike had appeared in his bedroom and Giles hadn't thrown him out. The partnership had its perks.

He glared at Spike a moment longer, then carefully shifted his gaze just enough to show he was conceding the point. The notetaker in his mind jotted a memo to investigate wolf psychology.

Spike did nothing more than smile very faintly in acknowledgement of his victory. Giles turned away from the other vampire and looked at Buffy. "How is Joyce?"

Buffy blinked for several seconds, catching up with the change. "Um, OK." Giles gave her a painfully familiar look that said 'I know you speak English, could there be a few more words to that explanation, please?' She would have smiled at the familiarity if she hadn't been so close to crying. "They're going to let her try walking in a couple of days. The speech therapist says she's doing really well."

Giles closed his eyes and nodded. "Good, that's very good."

"See? Told you it would mend itself," Spike said quietly. Giles glared at him, but he just smirked.

Buffy looked back and forth at the two of them. There were sub-texty things going on, things that made her think of stuff she'd read in the books about how vampires related to each other. The two--the two vampires looked at each other the way two people who knew each other pretty darned well would look.

Giles muttered something too low for any but vampire ears to hear, Spike snickered, and Giles turned back to the Scoobies. "We have work to do. What do we have on Glory?"

There was little new information. Giles let it be cautiously known that denizens of other dimensions were interested in the outcome of the situation. Both Buffy and Spike twitched at that, but Willow leaned forward in fascination.

"So there are creatures in other worlds who keep an eye on things here? Do they keep watch? How do people find out the stuff about other dimensions, anyway?"

"Travellers, mostly," Giles told her. "Though few of them are willing travellers. Creatures come through as the victims of spells gone wrong, and scholars quiz them on the conditions of the places they come from."

"But you could go there willingly, right? They're not all icky nasty hell places, are they?"

Tara looked at her lover's eager face and frowned slightly. She took one of Willow's hands and held it in both of hers.

Giles smiled at her eagerness for knowledge. "I've never been to any myself, but from what I hear there are dimensions that are not inherently inimical to human life."

Spike pulled out a cigarette and toyed with it. "Still not nice places to be," he muttered. "And the trip is never fun."

Willow turned to him. "You've been to another dimension?"

"Yep."

"What was it like?"

The cigarette went to paper shreds and tobacco leaves in his fingers. "It's not in the tour guides, Red. Leave it at that."

Willow tried not to pout too obviously as she turned away.

"Most dimensions are smelly, nasty places," Anya spoke up. "Most of them don't even have chocolate."

"The horror," Xander murmured.

Giles glanced over to give him a smile at the quip, but the familiar easy tone was not matched by what was in the young man's eyes. Xander stared back at Giles with profound distrust and disillusionment. Xander couldn't hold the look long, and he shifted his gaze to Spike. Hatred was all that burned in the human's eyes then. Giles noted the way he leaned against the wall, his arms relaxed against his sides, hands less than four inches from the two loaded crossbows on tables on either side of him. His hands flexed occasionally, staying limber.

Gary Cooper, wasn't it, in "High Noon"?

"What else do we have on Glory?" he said, turning to the room. "For what it's worth, I believe we only have a few more days before the alignment occurs. If we can hang on till then, we should be home free."

"If," Anya murmured.

"Are we going purely defensive?" Buffy said, "or do we go after the bitch?"

"In her own form, she is fairly invulnerable. If we could find her human disguise . . . She was bound to a human form so that when it died she would likewise be destroyed."

Willow played with her hair. "I suppose it's too much to hope for that her human form's lying in the terminal ward at Sunnydale General."

Giles snorted. "No, I believe those who bound her thought that being human might teach her lessons in humility and compassion." Perhaps he should have tried to make that sound a little less cynical, he told himself as the children shared looks of dismay. But Spike was smirking knowingly, and Willow, interestingly enough, looked more thoughtful than outraged.

"So, um, we're looking for someone young?" she volunteered.

"Adult, though perhaps not much older than you folk."

"Even if she is invulnerable," Buffy said impatiently, "do we even know where she is? She must have minions and all that, and they have to sleep somewhere."

"Some sort of rallying point, yes," Giles mused. He glanced at Spike. "Perhaps a job best suited for you or myself."

Spike shrugged. "Send the lads out, let them have a look around."

"Good idea."

"The lads?" Buffy repeated suspiciously.

Spike grinned at her. "Just a few minions we've got sitting about."

"Setting yourself up as the new master of the area, are you?"

"There's probably things going on that you don't want to know about, Slayer."

"I see your lads out bothering people, and they're going to get staked. You tell them that."

Spike shrugged. "Fact of life on the Hellmouth, you could run foul of the Slayer. Cleans out the stupid ones."

"Vampiric Darwinism," Willow mused.

Buffy glared at her. "Can we save the thirst for knowledge thing for later, Will?"

"So where do we stand?" Xander asked quietly from his corner.

Giles glanced at Buffy before answering. "Spike and I shall begin inquiries into the location of Glory's headquarters. It would be very useful if we could get more information on the alignment we're waiting for, as well. Was there any reference to what specific form Glory was placed in?"

Willow shook her head. "The chronicles only refer to an infant. Kind of hard to track an infant."

"It seem so irresponsible of them," Tara said quietly. She blinked at the looks she got. "To create these human lives as the vessels for all this power. Couldn't they have turned Glory into a--a rat or something? And turning the key into a girl--poor Dawn."

Buffy leaned against a counter. "I don't think I'd care so much if the key were just a coat rack or something."

"Which is precisely the point," Giles commented. "Still, it would be nice to know where we could find Glory when she was in her vulnerable human form." The silence that greeted him reminded him that squeamish humans were in the room. Though Anya only looked thoughtful and Xander--Xander had the disturbed expression of someone who sees the absolute logic of a proposition and hates himself for it.

Spike straightened from his post at the wall. "Is that it for now?"

Buffy shrugged in frustration. "I guess so." She stared at Giles for several moments, then grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. "Wills, I'll be home in a couple of hours."

As the door closed behind the Slayer, Anya smiled at everyone in the room. "If that's the end of the meeting, then I have to close up the shop. My shop."

"I take it that's a hint," Giles said, amused.

"Yep," Xander said, "time for all the living and the dead to go home."

Spike smirked at him. "What, not going to invite us to stay for the milk and cookies?"

"Nope."

"I am not feeling the love here."

Xander rested his hand on a crossbow. "We can fix that," he said with a smile.

Giles put a hand on Spike's shoulder. "Spike, don't annoy men who are very good shots when they have crossbows to hand."

"Good point."

Xander blinked at Giles with a surprised, flattered look on his face, but he turned away before Giles could ask what he was thinking. He heard the young man's quiet mutter, though: "And it takes being the evil undead to let me know these things?"

Anya watched them all, her arms crossed. "Why are none of you going home yet?"

Tara smiled at her. "Because we hate to leave you, Anya."

"That all very nice, but I want to go home and play with Xander. Don't you want to go home and play with Willow?" The two witches blushed but didn't deny it.

Spike grinned at Giles. "So, Ripper, shall we go home and--"

"Do be quiet, Spike." He turned so his glare and muted smile would not be seen by the children. "Good night, everyone."

"Good night, Giles," Willow said with a smile. Tara nodded, not quite meeting Giles' eyes.

Anya ran her hand over the deed to the store. "Good night, Giles. And thank you for the store."

"You're welcome. I'm sure it's in good hands." Giles looked at Xander again. The young man seemed about to say anything, but he looked down at the floor. Giles waited a moment, then nodded to himself and headed out the door. Spike followed without acknowledging any of the Scoobies.

Out on the street, Giles took off his glasses and returned them to their case in his pocket. "That went better than I expected."

"Harris is not a happy boy," Spike observed, lighting a cigarette.

"No." Giles spared a moment for nostalgic sympathy. All Xander's male companions and role models disappointed him in one way or another. Though all men learned that eventually. "Willow was a pleasant surprise. She's a dear girl."

"That she is."

Giles heard the thoughtful tone of voice and glared at his fellow vampire. "Leave Willow alone."

"Why?" Spike asked pointedly. "I've had my eye on Red for quite a while. Exercising a prior claim, are you?"

"If you will. And we don't have time for those kinds of games just now. Besides, Tara would not give up easily, and I honestly have no idea of how much she's capable of."

Spike shrugged. "Wouldn't mind a matched set of pretty young witches around the place. Stupid hellgod," he muttered. "Why couldn't she bugger off to LA or something and bother somebody else? There's so much fun to be had, and we've got to save the bloody world again. Didn't you ever get tired of it?"

"Well, I must admit, the responsibilities can be daunting, but we have a sworn duty to protect the world . . ." He trailed off as he contemplated the inherent illogic of that statement coming from the mouth of a vampire.

Spike looked up at the night sky. "Oi, if you're readyin' a lightning bolt up there, it was him what said it!"

"Oh, yes, thank you, Mr. Save the World for Manchester United and all the rest."

The blond shrugged and grinned. "So, we're off to set the minions on the trail of the hellbitch, are we?"

"It seems the logical step." Giles looked around the empty street. "But not just yet. I'm hungry." He checked his watch. "Early, yet. Where would be the best hunting, the park or the college?"

"Park. Too many people out and about on campus just yet. Somebody's bound to scream, and then there's the Slayer tappin' us on the shoulder and going 'Wot's all this, then?'"

Giles chuckled as they strolled down the street. "And how many bobbies did you run afoul of?"

"Well, there was that poor sod who was sure he'd found Jack the Lad when he interrupted me having dinner on a whore in Whitechapel. But Dru convinced him of the error of his ways."

"Jack the--oh, the Ripper."

Spike glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Always wondered about your choice of nom de guerre, mate. Role model?"

"Not in the slightest." Giles picked up the pace, trying to leave behind the memories that both thrilled and repelled him. Demon summoning, along with the drug- and music-crazed sex, was one thing, but there was more than one memory of uncomplicated happiness that he didn't want to have cluttering up his mind just at the moment.

The park was quiet to mortal senses, but the vampires heard the movement of large creatures among the trees and bushes. Spike changed to his vampiric face and tested the wind. "A couple of necking couples over by the band stand, there's a drunk under the hedge over there, and --" He took a deep breath, tasting the air. "Horses? Who the fuck is riding horses around here, at this time of night?"

"Cordelia mentioned there used to be a bridle path through here, though it's not used much anymore."

"Hate horses," Spike muttered. "God damned things stepping on you and flicking their tails at you."

"Not one of the horsey set, were you?" Giles observed. "Not enough money or not enough social standing?" He smiled faintly at the glare he got. "Perhaps we can agree that if you don't bring up my youth I shan't bring up yours." He nodded at the hand gesture he got. "Agreed."

They walked through the park, ostensibly two men out for a walk, though they paid more attention to other people than was typical. Spike caught sight of a middle-aged woman in a waitress' uniform walking slowly along the path ahead of them. "How's that, then, Ripper? Chock full of home cooked goodness."

Giles' eyes were already flickering towards gold. "She'll do. I'll be picky some time when I'm not so hungry." He started forward, then turned his head quickly. "Slayer."

"Fuck." Spike locked on the location of Buffy's scent. "You go ahead, I'll distract the Slayer."

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten yet either." But the ridges were already shaping out of the human flesh.

Spike frowned at the way the demon was so quickly overriding Giles' control. He kept forgetting how young a vampire the ex-Watcher was. "I can wait. Go on. And mind the drips, you don't want the Slayer seeing what you've been up to."

Giles nodded, his attention more on his chosen victim than on his reluctant mentor's words. But little of the predator showed as he followed the woman around a curve of the path, perhaps just an extra spring in the step or the way he held his head.

Spike headed in the direction of the Slayer, fortunately the opposite direction Ripper had taken. He found her a hundred yards off, looking thoughtful but aware enough of her surroundings to feel a vampire approaching.

Buffy scanned the area before focusing on Spike. "So what brings you to the park, Spike?"

"Memories of meals past." He fell into step next to her. "Find anything interesting tonight?"

"Nope, nobody stupid enough to come within reach when I'm in a bad mood." She smiled at him brightly. "Till now."

He settled on his feet more evenly and smiled back. "I've got no objection to a bit of rough and tumble, if you're in the mood."

"Nah, beating you up is starting to be fun, and that's just a little too euw."

"Oh, but you'd make a great dom, love. Fit you up with some nice tight black leather, braid your hair back, give you a riding crop." He shivered happily. "There's an image that's going to keep me happy for hours."

Buffy shuddered in disgust. "Leave me out of your fantasies, Spike."

"Too late," he murmured.

She glanced at him and took a step away. "So . . . where's Giles?"

"Oh, he's off somewhere. I am not my brother's keeper."

Buffy blinked at a sudden thought. "So, is he really like your brother, since Dru, um . . ."

"You might want to go a little easy on the family metaphors, love. Considering how Dru and I got along."

"Oh, yeah, euw, never mind."

Though why Spike was sparing her the brutal truth about how vampire clan members related to each other, he wasn't sure. The look on her face if she figured out just how close Spike and her ex-watcher had gotten would be such a treasure.

They heard it at the same time, someone coming along the path.

"Vampire," Buffy muttered. She stepped out of easy reach of Spike and pulled a stake. Spike said nothing, his sense of smell already identifying the person approaching. He got ready to conduct a getaway, just in case.

Buffy went still when she saw Giles coming around a thicket of bushes. He didn't seem surprised to see her. "Hello, Buffy," he said easily. "Have you ever thought of changing your shampoo? It's really quite identifiable. That should have occurred to me before, you do hunt creatures who rely a great deal on their sense of smell."

Spike kept himself from smirking. Clever Ripper, put the Slayer off guard with a bit of the old-fashioned amiable babble. And maybe she won't smell that faint whiff of blood coming off you. No obvious spots, but you should have dumped that handkerchief you've got in your pocket. Not that discretion and tidiness were a normal concern of vampires after a meal.

Buffy stared at Giles, trying to force her mind away from memories of sharing patrols in this very park, making herself remember what vampires strolling through the park were normally up to.

"Having a pleasant evening stroll?" she asked, still clutching her stake.

"Yes, thank you, and yourself?"

"Nice quiet night, then I ran across people acting suspiciously in the park."

Giles glanced at Spike. "I didn't do anything," Spike protested.

"Somehow I doubt that."

Buffy glared at both of them, shifting her stance to keep watch equally. "Me, too."

Giles looked thoughtfully at Buffy a moment. "Spike, would you mind letting me speak to her alone?"

"I mind if she stakes you."

"I shall endeavour not to give her cause."

Buffy tapped her stake impatiently against her leg. "Isn't that kind of up to me, guys?"

Giles smiled at her. "Yes, it is."

Spike shrugged. "Whatever. If you're dust I get your car." He headed off into the darkness, lighting up a cigarette.

Buffy watched him go. "He listens to you."

"When it suits him. Little has changed in that regard."

"But in all the other regards . . ."

He shrugged.

They looked at each other for several moments, Giles standing at ease with his hands in his pockets, Buffy fidgeting with her stake.

"We had a deal, Giles," she said softly.

"Yes, we did."

"We'd make sure that when we died we stayed dead, and if it was too late we'd make sure . . ."

"I know."

She raised the stake, still watching him. He didn't move. "You're not even going to try and stop me?" She was poised to strike, breaths away from doing her job.

"No, I will try to stop you. I don't want to be destroyed," he added in an almost academic tone of voice.

"No, you wouldn't. My Giles, though . . ."

He nodded. "When I woke up . . . it was a near thing. I rather resent being grateful to Spike, but if I'd been alone . . ."

He wasn't looking at her anymore, but off into that other world only vampires saw.

"I've met the newbies," Buffy said softly. "Not known for their self-sacrificing tendencies. Not likely to decide they don't want to be vampires after all."

"But I remembered, you see." He glanced at her, then away again. "I remembered my calling, my oaths. I remembered you. But that's all they were, memories. The drives, the urges -- they came from somewhere else. The first week was painful."

Buffy clenched her jaw. "But you managed to get over it well enough to decide to sacrifice Dawn to some hellbeast."

He met her eyes again, and he became a different man, a being she'd seen traces of over the years. She realized why Spike called him Ripper. "I don't want to see the world destroyed. I will do my best to stop it."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what. We do what we have to. That's why we're here." His smile was the one he'd given her before, the one of shared sacrifice and weary understanding. She remembered Acathla and a choice that had come close to killing her.

"You're--you're a vampire. Vampires like blood and death and carnage."

He looked away from her. How much of this uncompromising face was demon and how much was an old self she'd never wanted to think too closely on? "Your point?"

"If you want to save the world, it must be for some nefer--nafer--"

That smile was back. The patient, amused smile that had gotten her through the SATs. "Nefarious?"

"Yeah. Some twisted purpose of your own."

"Spike didn't."

"Spike's weird."

"Yes, granted. I will confess that elements of my current psyche find Glory's plans--appealing. But the greater part sees the error of that view."

Buffy shook her head. "This isn't--how can you sound so you?"

"As opposed to the typical mindless fledge that crawls out of the ground? I'm not quite sure yet. It's a fascinating study."

"Is that all this is to you?" she snapped. "A fascinating intellectual experiment?"

"This is what I am now, Buffy. I can crouch in the corner and wail to the heavens or I can try to understand my new condition."

"Your new condition." She stepped away, and the Slayer lived in her eyes. "What did you have for dinner, Giles?"

His return gaze was calm. "Ask me again and I'll tell you."

She took a deep breath, but before she could ask Spike came around a bush at a run. He studied the two suspiciously, then shook it off. "Come here, you two, quick."

"Spike," Buffy frowned, "I'm not--" But Giles had already gone, and she wasn't going to be left out.

They followed Spike through a small grove of trees--Buffy hyper-alert for any possibility this was a trap.

"Up here," Spike whispered, crouching behind a bush.

Giles sniffed the air. "Horses, again."

Voices from the clearing ahead. Buffy peeked through the shrubbery. Three men, two horses. Two of the men wore metal armor with tabards, and chainmail veils over their faces. The third man wore the rags of the street.

"What's with the medieval recreationists?" Spike said.

"I've seen these guys before," Buffy whispered. "They attacked me, said something about me being the enemy."

Giles glared at the men. "These are the ones who attacked you?"

"Well, it was three last time, but they're dressed like it."

"How interesting." The voice was more parts Ripper than Giles.

Spike smirked. "Think a chat's in order, mate?"

"Quite likely."

"Um, guys . . . maybe we should find out what they're up to first?"

Giles began to straighten. "Oh, I intend to."

"Wait," Spike said, as one of the men in armor pulled out a sword.

Words became clearer. "So bright, so bright," muttered the ragged man. "Going home, not long now, going home."

"Do you agree, brother?" said the man with the sword.

The other nodded. "Yes, this one is lost."

The sword moved, and cut the ragged man's throat.

Two cold hands clamped down on Buffy's shoulders, and another went over her mouth to stifle her yell. She struggled but couldn't break free of the grip of two vampires.

"He's dead, Buffy," Giles said into her ear. "It's too late, he's dead."

Spike leaned in. "And these guys accused you of being the enemy?" If he sounded slightly admiring, no one commented.

The men in armor knelt beside the body, obviously in prayer. One gestured over the body, then they stood.

"May your soul know peace," said the one with the sword as he cleaned his weapon, then sheathed it.

Buffy started to climb to her feet, Spike not far behind her.

"Humans, Buffy," Giles said. "What do you plan to do to them?" Behind her back he glared at Spike and tapped his head. Spike grimaced and mouthed a foul word, but he settled back.

"We can't just let them wander around killing people!"

"I understand. I just wanted you to think about your options."

She gave the standard Buffy-accepts-something-obvious pout. "Can I at least ask them what the heck they think they're doing?"

"Oh, I think questioning is quite within the parameters." Giles straightened easily, attracting the armored men's attention. They drew their swords as he approached.

He stopped out of range and looked down at the body. "And what did this poor gentleman do to offend you so?"

"He was a lost one. We released him from his torment."

Buffy appeared at Giles' side. "By murdering him? And how do you know he was in torment, anyway?"

"His mind had been taken by the beast, we gave him mercy." The soldiers began circling. "You consort with the Slayer," the spokesman said to Giles. "Are you protecting the Key as well?"

Giles couldn't help glancing at Buffy, who glared back at him. "I'm doing my best to keep the Key from Glory."

"The Key must be destroyed. The Slayer stands in our way."

"Well, yes, that's her job. And I understand her reasons."

"I beat three of you guys all by myself," Buffy added. "There's only two of you now."

The soldiers glanced at each other, chain mail masks swinging, then they firmed their shoulders. "No matter. Our duty is clear."

Buffy heard a disturbing noise from Giles. Part chuckle, part growl. A quick glance over her shoulder showed Spike had vanished. She didn't know what he could do with the chip, but she didn't trust him. "Look, guys, Knights, as for me, I don't want to hurt you. But I'm not going to let you get to the Key. Can't we just focus on stopping Glory?"

"Our mission is to prevent the beast from ripping open the portal. Destroying the Key will fulfill our mission. We will offer any sacrifice for the cause." His partner straightened purposefully.

"Pretty big talk for someone who's outnumbered," said a mocking voice behind the soldiers. Spike stepped out of the bushes, hands in pockets but looking no less dangerous for it.

The soldiers glanced at each other and moved back to back, obviously ready to fight to the end.

"OK, time out!" Buffy yelled. "All you testosterone junkies just relax." Giles gave her a hurt look. "Deal, Giles." She took a careful step towards the soldiers. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want you to stay out of my way." The body on the ground caught her eye. "And I want you to stop killing innocent people."

The soldier's sigh sounded sincerely grieved. "We granted him a merciful release. The beast had stolen his mind and made her will his. We freed him from her slavery."

Giles studied them. "There was no option but killing him?"

"It is rumored there are ways to steal a lost one's mind back from the beast, but that is sorcerer's work."

His companion moved uneasily. "We should not be speaking with these. The Slayer is our enemy."

Buffy made a frustrated noise. "No, I am not! Unless you start swinging a sword at me again! We're after the same thing here, guys."

"Can't we all just get along?" Spike said plaintively.

"Shut up, Spike."

"Yes, do," Giles added. Spike smirked and flipped Giles off.

The first soldier let the point of his sword drop an inch. "Our mission is to destroy the Key. You protect the Key. There are no options."

Buffy loosened her shoulders and took a step away from Giles for maneuvering room. She saw him flex his hands casually and almost ordered him out of the battlefield. The knot in her gut tightened a half second later as she remembered why she shouldn't worry about her Watcher anymore.

She focused on the soldier. "We're not going to attack you. If you want a fight, you're going to have to start it."

The second soldier readied himself, but the first soldier lowered his blade completely. "We are out-numbered, Brother Ferdinand."

"Brother John! Our holy duty--"

"Is to fight the beast, not throw our lives away in impossible battle. Against the Slayer, perhaps, but not against her teacher and her vampire as well."

"Oi! What do you mean, *her* vampire!"

"Shut UP, Spike!" Buffy glanced automatically towards Giles, then forced her mind out of old habits. "You can't keep killing off the poor crazy homeless people. That's got to stop."

"It is more merciful to release them."

"Yeah, well, maybe he had some family somewhere that wouldn't agree."

Giles frowned. "They may be right, Buffy," he said softly.

"I don't care. They're people, if they're sick they need to be in the hospital! If you don't stop," she said to the soldiers, "you'll find out that it's not just the Key I'm protecting."

The soldier stiffened. "Is that a threat?"

Buffy cocked her head in surprise. "Well, duh. I've got people who keep an eye out for these kinds of things, and if I find out about a bunch of homeless guys showing up with their throats cut or something, I'm going to know who to come looking for. Call it good and go home and tell your boss."

"You have no right to give us orders."

"Yeah, I do. I'm the Slayer, and this is my town. Get the hell out of here."

The two soldiers hesitated, then backed towards their horses. They mounted and galloped away.

Spike sauntered over, grinning. "You're hot when you're threatening dire physical harm, Slayer." He put a hand to stop both Buffy's and Giles' reply. "I know, 'shut up, Spike.' Not original." He met Giles' annoyed look and only grinned harder.

Giles turned his glare in the direction of the soldiers' departure. "I found very little on the Knights of Byzantium, other than what we already know. Their sole purpose is the discovery and the destruction of the Key."

Buffy stepped closer to the corpse of the ragged man. "Poor guy. Just 'cause he was a little nuts . . ." Spike joined her and began going through the dead man's pockets. "Hey, stop that."

He ignored her. "What was that about the hellbitch taking his mind?" he said.

"It's one of her powers," Giles said. "She draws strength from devouring the minds and intellects of others. Apparently the mindless ones become her servants."

Spike settled back on his heels, a wallet in his hands. "This guy wasn't homeless before Glory got to him." He flipped it open to show several credit cards, pictures, and a wad of cash.

"Give it here," Buffy ordered. "And don't you dare take that money."

"He doesn't need it anymore, pet."

"I don't care, that needs to go to his family, give it here."

Spike sighed hugely and handed her the wallet. She was too busy looking through the various cards to notice him pulling off the corpse's watch and wedding ring. Buffy paused on one card. "He worked at Sunnydale General, he was a therapist over there."

"He's been wandering around like this for quite some time, given the state of his clothes," Giles observed. "I imagine his family has given up on him by now, this being Sunnydale."

"So I can have his wallet back," Spike said. He mostly dodged the kick Buffy sent his way.

"No," she said firmly. "I'll give it to the police, say I found it in the park."

"And if you think the cops won't take their share . . ." Spike muttered.

"Jerk." She started to walk away, then paused to give Giles an uncertain look.

"We'll be in touch," he told her. "We'll leave messages with Anya on what we find regarding Glory's location."

"OK," she said. She let herself look sadly at her mentor for a moment, then firmed her shoulders and headed off.

"Buffy, one thing," he called after her. She looked back over her shoulder. "I took the Orb of Thesulah from the shop. I'm using it as a paperweight again. I wouldn't waste time trying to find another one."

Buffy stared at him, licking her lips. Willow had torn the shop apart, looking for the Orb and accusing Anya of selling the thing. Anya had sworn she hadn't, though she admitted it was because no one had asked. It wasn't like there had been a pressing need to worry about vampires and their souls.

"If you were to find one," he went on, "don't bother using it. It would be far kinder of you to simply kill me. I doubt I'd survive long if you gave me Angel's curse."

"We weren't . . ." she started, but she knew she'd never mastered the art of lying. "It was just a thought."

He smiled ruefully. "I understand. But not a good one. Your Giles is gone. There's only me left."

She let her grief show for just a moment, then tucked away again everything that distracted her from her job. Without a word she turned and walked away.

"Make a lovely cricket ball, that Orb would," Spike said as he joined Giles. He was counting a thick wad of cash.

"Where did you get that?"

Spike nodded over his shoulder. "Didn't show the wallet till I'd taken my cut. Figured the Slayer would go noble on us, and I left enough for her to find so she could feel superior."

Giles shrugged. "It's getting late, I'm tired." They went on their way, leaving the body for whatever scavengers or city clean-up crew happened to come along first.

***

Hector Stevenson, the man killed in the park, had last been seen at the hospital several weeks before. Sunnydale being what it was, it was difficult to get a comprehensive list of missing people to compare to the growing list of mentally damaged folk who were appearing. When the available information was correlated, no one area showed a higher number of missing people being discovered crazy.

Spike sent Sammy, Fred and the girls out to look for centers of demonic activity. He himself took Willy's, looking for both information and more opportunities to re-establish his reputation as the vampire most likely to rip out your hipbones and use them as a planter.

Giles debated going with him, but he knew that was the bloodthirstiness talking. He made a promise to himself that if he checked four volumes of dark lore for mentions of Glory, then he would go out and find something to beat up. It was the technique that had gotten him through Oxford.

He was halfway through the third volume, which described Glory's influence over the mentally ill and brain damaged, when he remembered something from before Joyce's surgery. She had seen Dawn's dual nature, had known the girl wasn't her daughter. But as opposed to the other people who had seen Dawn for what she was, Joyce had recovered her wits. Perhaps she remembered that time, perhaps she remembered something of the influence Glory wielded over those whose minds were in altered states.

He hadn't seen her since the one visit anyway, and he did want to find out how she was doing. It was research, so he wasn't violating his personal bargain. Such sophistry had also gotten him through Oxford.

Once he determined that Buffy wasn't visiting her mother, Giles didn't bother sneaking down the hospital corridor to Joyce's room. He paused in pleased surprise in the doorway.

"Joyce, you're up."

Joyce looked up, startled, from where she sat in a chair near the bed. The magazine she'd been reading slipped from her fingers. Giles crouched swiftly to pick it up and return it to her.

"'Art & Auction,'" he read. "Keeping up with the business, are you?"

"Giles," she said, blinking at him. She looked at the doorway uncertainly.

"Are you expecting someone?"

"Oh, no, I'm just . . . hello."

He smiled back at her but remained crouched at her side, trying not to appear too intimidating. "I was wondering how you were doing."

She looked uncertain, then nodded slowly. "No, I don't suppose . . . that Buffy tells you." Her voice was much clearer, but she was obviously searching for the right word or making sure of how to pronounce it. "I'm . . . doing better."

"That's wonderful." He patted her hand and pretended not to notice the way she almost pulled away. He wondered if Buffy had spoken to her about him. "Buffy told Spike that you were going to be working on walking."

Her smile was tired. "I can stand by myself, but I'm still a little wobbly. I'm going to need a--a--oh, what is it, what the old ladies use." She held her hands out in front of her.

"I think you call them walkers here."

"Yes, a walker." She frowned as she said it. "Just like my grandmother."

"We call them Zimmer frames in England. I had an old aunt who said she was going out for a Zimmer race when she went out with her friends."

Joyce chuckled. "If I keep up with my exercises and physical therapy, I should be able to graduate to a cane in a few weeks. I may not even need that by summer."

"That's very good. And I shall dare your wrath and say 'I told you so.' Have they said when you'll be released?"

The frown reappeared. "Not very long. A day or so. Xander's been building a ramp on the front steps."

"You don't seem pleased."

"Buffy's been talking about leaving school to stay home and take care of me. I don't think she's been going to class, she's taking care of the house and Dawn and checking things at the gallery. She shouldn't have to do all that, she should be in school."

"I'm sure it won't be for long, only till you're reliably on your feet again. And it's better than planning your funeral."

Joyce blinked at him. "You used to be more tactful."

"Oh, um--yes, I suppose I was. But it's true." He saw her glance at the door again, as if afraid of--or hoping for-- an interruption. "I was wondering something, though, Joyce."

"Yes?"

"Before your surgery, you were able to perceive that Dawn was . . . different. Do you remember?"

"I don't--" She frowned in thought. "It's very blurry. I wasn't sure what was real. Why?"

Giles had long ago stopped underestimating this woman, so he told her the truth. "One of Glory's abilities is to steal the higher functions of people's minds. We've seen more and more damaged people. Most of them seem able to see Dawn's true nature, and they also seem to share an awareness of Glory. I was wondering if you remembered a connection to Glory, or at least an awareness of something of power."

Joyce folded her hands and stared off into her memories. "I remember . . . frustration. Impatience. Horrible longing. But it could so easily have been my own."

"No awareness of another being?"

She shook her head. "You say other people have seen Dawn and . . . reacted?"

"Yes, Glory has power over people with lessened mental abilities, and they seem to be aware of her search for the Key. They perceive Dawn's difference, but they are unable to do anything with the information."

"I don't care about Dawn's difference. She's my daughter, no matter if monks gave her to me or if I gave birth to her. I just hope I can help protect her."

For a moment, there was no sign of weakness in Joyce Summers. Giles dearly hoped she'd never find out about his plan to give Dawn to the hell beasts--or if she did, that he'd have a great deal of warning. Mexico was said to be a nice place for vampires.

"I'll not bother you any longer," he said, getting to his feet. "I'm glad you're doing so well."

She smiled faintly. "Check back with me in six months, though."

"I will. If only to say hello." As he turned to go, he saw a shelf of plants and cards. Among them was a small stuffed green monster, with horns and claws and as fearsome a snarl as something plush could manage. "Someone has interesting tastes in stuffed animals," he observed.

Joyce chuckled. "He's supposed to protect me."

He could picture Dawn presenting her mother with a fierce creature to protect her when no one else was about. When he took a step closer, though, he smelled Spike.

"I'll be keeping in touch with Anya," he said after the briefest of hesitations. "I hope to get even more good news about you in the future.'

Joyce smiled sincerely. "I'll make sure she has all the latest news. Good night, Giles."

"Good night, Joyce."

As he walked away, he wondered why he felt so annoyed. Was it that Spike had been visiting Joyce without Giles' knowledge? The two of them had spent time together over coffee and hot chocolate before now, so there was no reason why Spike shouldn't come to visit her in the hospital.

Perhaps it was because Joyce was obviously uncomfortable alone with Giles. He paused a moment to be honest with himself. Joyce had only ever known Spike as a vampire, she knew what he was like. Even before the chip, he'd been oddly respectful of her. Joyce had to be wondering about all the ways Giles had changed. Giles himself had to admit to conflicting impulses. The voice in the back of his mind whispered of helpless prey, of pain to the Slayer if her mother was killed.

He hadn't eaten yet, perhaps that explained his bad mood. He glanced around the hospital corridor, assessing opportunities. All the staff were going busily about their rounds, it was too early in the evening to sneak into a patient's room. Perhaps he could go down to the parking lot and wait for a solitary visitor to wander into a dark shadow.

He strolled towards the elevators. As he passed the staff elevator, the doors opened and a man came out pushing a cart of clean laundry. With barely a thought, Giles slipped into the elevator. The morgue was in the basement, surrounded by badly lit corridors and infrequently occupied departments. Dozens of places to stash a drained body.

The darkness was blissful to sensitive eyes, though the smells jangled on his nerves. Chemicals from the laundry, the scent of decomposing bodies drifting from that side corridor. The humans probably didn't notice the smell of decay, at least consciously. Which meant anyone down here would be nicely uneasy already. Less effort to bring the proper level of fear to the blood.

No heartbeats nearby. Giles debated, then headed towards the morgue. If nothing else, he could see if there were any proto-vampires in the coolers.

Two corners from the morgue, he heard voices. " . . . and stop coming to the hospital, damn it," said a man. "I don't want your kind here."

"Well, if you'd bother to speak to us when you're at home--" The voice was not quite human.

"I don't want to speak to you at all! Now go away! You have no business here."

"Her most sparkling sublimity was quite clear, we're to look everywhere."

"There's nothing for you here, there's no reason you need to speak to me. Now leave me alone."

The non-human voice sighed. "Very well, sir."

Giles heard a non-human heartbeat approaching. He paused at the corner and waited.

A gnarled demon with bad skin and wearing a hooded robe crept around the corner. It saw Giles and squeaked as it jumped. "Excuse me," it gasped. "I did not see you--" It frowned. "Or hear you. Or smell you. Ah. My apologies, Master Vampire, I'll just be on my way."

Demons in the vicinity of the morgue were so rarely up to any good. Giles moved to block the creature's way and looked down the corridor. He heard a rapid heartbeat in that direction and smelled anxiety. "What were you doing down there?"

"Nothing, most puissant one, nothing at all that need bother your most undeadness."

Giles glared at him. "That makes less sense than anything Xander or Willow have ever babbled." The demon started to slink off, and he grabbed the creature by the front of its robe. "Who are you, what are you doing down here, and who is that lurking down there?"

The demon actually straightened a little from its obsequious crouch. "Down there? There's no one down there. No one you need to worry about."

Giles smiled slightly and slipped on his fangs. "No one worth worrying about? Generally the best sort to invite to dinner. If they're not worth worrying about."

"Oh, you don't want to eat him, your most frightening pointiness. He is not at all tasty. You should eat me instead."

"That's very generous of you. What did you say your name was?"

"Smirg, my lord."

"Smirg. Nothing personal, Smirg, but I'm afraid I don't find you that appetizing."

Giles started down the corridor, Smirg on his heels. "I understand, my lord," the demon said. "I am unworthy of the notice of such a fearsome creature of the night. Especially such a clever *vampire*, who's thought of *hunting* in the hospital."

Giles turned to glare at it. "What are you doing? I don't need a herald going before me announcing my presence." He paused, then looked from the demon down the corridor. The heartbeat he'd heard earlier was retreating. "You were giving a warning. Who were you talking to?"

Smirg blinked innocently. "Talking to, my lord? Who would I be talking to?"

Growling, Giles grabbed its robe again. "Who was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, most scary snarling one. You'll probably just have to kill me."

"I distrust people who want me to kill them."

"Completely up to you, your illustrious bloodthirstiness."

"Why on earth are you talking like that?"

"Like what, most--"

He shook the demon firmly. "Stop that." The demon nodded. "Now, what are you doing down here?" The demon stared at him. "You can talk to answer the question. What are you doing down here?"

"I was visiting the corpses, my lord. I like corpses."

"I think you're lying."

"Most likely, my lord."

"I could hurt you a great deal, you know."

"Oh, yes, I know, my lord."

"And the longer I spend with you, the farther away whomever you were talking to gets."

The demon smiled. "Yes, my lord."

Kill him just on principle? Giles debated for several moments, then let the creature go. "If I see you again, I'll most likely kill you just for the hell of it."

Smirg straightened his robe. "Quite all right, my lord. Good hunting to you." It strolled away.

Giles went down to the morgue to make sure nothing out of the ordinary was going on, but all was quiet. He smelled traces of the man that Smirg had been speaking to, but everything indicated average human.

Annoyed, Giles waylaid a janitor and left his drained body in a laundry hamper.

***

Elsewhere in the Sunnydale night, Xander Harris mused with ironic fondness on the good old days of plain, unsophisticated vampires. How pleasant it would be to go back to those days. But only if he could go back as the person he was now. No way in hell would he do high school over again. Sure, bezoars in the basement and hyenas in the hall, but there weren't any gods wandering around.

His musings didn't distract him from watching for things that go bump in the night as he did his share of the patrol through the Riverview Cemetery. Nice place, Riverview. When it was his turn and if there was enough left to bother with, he wanted to be buried here, with a view of the water.

"Excuse me, young man," said a female voice from the shadows. A middled-aged woman carrying a dog leash stepped out from behind a bush. "Could you help me find my dog?"

Xander stared at her. "That's a new line."

"Excuse me?" She blinked harmless brown eyes at him, her expression a mix of confusion and worry. "Have you seen a dog? A lhasa apso? He just slipped the leash and ran off after something."

"Well, no, haven't seen any dogs. I might smell a rat, though."

"There's no need to be rude." She glowered at him and turned to walk away.

Xander took a step after her, but at least it was a suspicious step. "Where'd you last see your dog, ma'am?"

"He was over by that mausoleum." She turned quickly, the dog leash looped in both hands and fangs showing through her grin.

Xander ducked as she tried to throw the loop over his head. "Yeah, Harris, tell the universe you miss vampires." He scrambled away, yanking the stake out of his back pocket.

The vampire hesitated. "Who are you? The Slayer's a girl."

"Yeah, well, I'm a close personal friend of the Slayer, so there. Gotta say, nice routine with the lost dog bit."

She grinned. "It's not a bit."

Barking broke out behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Xander saw a small, white, shaggy dog running towards him, little canine fangs bared.

"Oh, now, come on!"

He barely dodged the teeth trying to latch onto his ankle, avoiding the vampire's claws by inches Reaching down, he snagged the scruff of the dog's neck and threw himself back against a tree. "Back off, fangface, or the mutt gets it!" He held his stake against the dog's heart.

"No!" the vampire yelled. "Don't hurt Maxi!"

The dog snarled and wriggled, trying to get free. "Knock it off, dog," Xander said, giving the thing a shake.

"Maxi, stop it!" the vampire ordered. The dog went limp.

"OK, then," Xander said, catching his breath. "Here's where we stand. You're a vampire, and you want to kill me. I don't want you to kill me, and I've got your dog. Where do we go from here?"

"Give me my dog and I won't hurt you."

"Eeenh, try again. I give you your dog, and you jump me."

"Well, you don't think I'm going to let you stake me, do you?"

Xander smiled. "What a happy world that would be, if the vampires let you stake them." There was something inherently wrong with negotiating with vampires. "Alternate deal. You disappear and I let the dog go and I go in the other direction." He saw the way the vampire grinned. "And if you think I won't be watching my back, you're wrong. There's a Slayer around here somewhere, and I don't think she'd fall for the poor doggie routine."

The negotiations were madly interrupted by the arrival of a horse crashing through some bushes and galloping towards them. The vampire jumped towards Xander. Just as he brought his stake up in self-defense, she grabbed the dog from his hold and ran away. Xander ducked behind the tree as the horse ran past. It stopped not far away, tossing its head and pawing nervously. It wore a saddle and bridle, but the reins hung loose.

Xander crept towards it. "Easy, big fella," he said, flashing on memories of old western movies and cowboys. The horse turned its head and looked at him. "That's it, it's your old buddy Xander. Damn, you guys don't look so big on TV. Where'd you come from, huh?"

He reached out very carefully to touch the sweaty black flank. Snorting loudly, the horse jumped away, then reared, lashing out with heavy front hooves. Xander yelped and dove out of the way, scrambling for the cover of the bushes. The horse shook its head violently, then ran off into the darkness.

"Hi-yo, Silver, away." Xander headed back the direction the horse had come from. Not too far along, he heard the sound of heavy breathing and snarls--and laughter? Vaguely familiar laughter, that made his spine crawl. He ducked back into the bushes and crept along till he found the source of the sound. "Oh, god, no."

It was one of those Knights of Byzantium guys, in full armor with his sword out and swinging--at Spike. A Spike who danced with the blade, spinning just out of reach, ducking under the point, circling around to force the soldier to follow him. He was in full game face, and he was having the time of his unlife.

Xander had forgotten how elegantly Spike could move. When he fought demons, more often than not the fight was something close to balanced. This was Spike at play, utterly confident, completely in control of the movements. He used the skirts of his duster almost like a matador used his cloak, flicking a corner into his opponent's face and letting the leather sweep around his legs as he turned. At one point he got behind the soldier, and he kicked the man in the back, just hard enough to knock him stumbling off balance.

"Come on, mate," Spike grinned, "don't tell me you're all done. I haven't had a dance like this in years!"

There was not the slightest flicker of discomfort on his face as he hit the man. Maybe, Xander thought, the Knight wasn't human. But his gut knew better. His gut recognized a personal apocalypse when it stood up and flashed unchipped vampire fangs at him.

Spike, free, unleashed, the Big Bad in name only no longer. Xander only wondered why he was starting with some hapless dude in chainmail.

The soldier got his feet under him and his sword pointed towards the vampire. Spike strode towards him easily. "So your whole raison d'etre is to find and destroy the Key, is that right, mate?"

"We shall find and destroy the Key and save the world from the Beast," came the voice from behind the chainmail veil.

"Well, you might want to go a little easy on the word 'we', there, mate. I think your brothers in arms are going to have to go on without you."

The soldier firmed his shoulders. "When one falls, a hundred shall rise."

Spike grinned, showing all his fangs. "Bring 'em on, I love it when I get my meals delivered."

He dove in, playing no longer. He backhanded the sword blade out of his way and wrenched the weapon out of his victim's hands. The solider screamed as bones broke. Spike laughed again as he yanked the veil from the man's face and pulled him back against his chest.

"Well, you're serious about all this, aren't you," Spike said, looking at the tatoo on the man's forehead. "How about this, I won't let you die with your life's work unfinished."

"What?"

"I'll tell you where the Key is."

The man stared at him, and Xander got ready to charge.

Spike looked around carefully. "The Key that everyone's looking for is . . ." He leaned down and whispered in the man's ear. The soldier struggled wildly to escape. Spike chuckled, yanked the man's head back and sank his fangs into the neck.

Xander froze, staring. He kept remembering things--Spike wrapped up in a blanket and shivering that Thanksgiving, the vampire tied up in his ratty easy chair in the Basement of Doom, the Scoobies sneering with various degrees of cruelty over how low the Big Bad had fallen. His mortal sub-brain was now suspecting that they were all in a great deal of trouble.

Spike finished and pulled away from his victim with a satisfied sigh. "Blessed are the pure in heart," he said, "for they shall see God. Give Him my regards, mate." He dropped the body on the ground.

He stretched happily, then searched his pockets till he found his cigarettes and lighter. He was just lighting up when he paused, then looked around. He sniffed audibly, his search closing on the bushes where Xander hid. He smiled cruelly and sauntered over. "Are we playing hide and seek, then? I thought white hats disapproved of hiding."

The terrified primate in the back of Xander's head screamed at him to flee. Instead, he stood up and stepped out of cover. "Yeah, hiding's kind of girly."

Spike pouted. "What, aren't you even going to run?"

Xander met his eyes. "Not from you."

Spike chuckled with a full-fanged grin. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

Xander moved out into the open, moving away as Spike walked closer. "So, how long have we been among the fanged set again?" he asked.

Spike shrugged. "A few days now."

"I'm hurt. You said I was high up on your list of people against the wall come the revolution. And here you are eating somebody you just met. You're fickle, Spike."

"Well, it's not something you want to hurry over. We've been so close, you and I. You deserve my best effort."

Spike gave no appearance of hurrying, strolling along with his hands in his pockets. Xander kept moving, trying not to have any trees or mausoleums behind him. The plan had been to meet up with Buffy and Willow half an hour after entering Riverview. The girls should be looking for him by now. Then Xander could step back and watch Ultimate Slayer SmackDown and he could take home a little box of Spike ashes, just so he'd know for sure that, ding dong, the Big Bad Vamp was dead.

"You're going to wear yourself out, pet," Spike observed. "I thought you said you weren't going to run."

"I'm not running, I'm maneuvering."

Spike stopped and just looked at him. The fangs and ridges disappeared. "This isn't any fun."

"Well, gosh, Spike, I'm just so sorry that I'm not making killing me more of a blast for you."

"Kill you? What makes you think I'm going to kill you?"

"Hm, let me think. 'When I get this chip out, I'm going to suck your eyeballs out with a straw, whelp.' Or, everyone's favorite, 'When I get this chip out, I'm going to kill you all.' It's kind of been a trend in our relationship, the death threats and all."

"Oh, but if I kill you, then it's all over."

"Yeah, death is kind of like that."

Spike smiled again. "Not always."

A whole new horrible realm of possibilities opened up to Xander. Before he could say anything, he heard voices in the distance. Buffy and Willow.

He took a breath to yell, then a cold hand was over his mouth and a hard arm held him tight.

"We're not done with our chat yet, pet," Spike purred into his ear.

Xander tried to dig in his feet, but Spike had little trouble dragging him into a convenient mausoleum. The little nattering voice in the back of his head wondered why these places were always nearby and always unlocked. Maybe it was one of those super secret vamp-powers, find and unlock mausoleums.

Spike pushed Xander up against the wall, hand still across his mouth. Xander glared and debated biting that hand. Smirking, Spike leaned against him, resting his chin on the hand over Xander's mouth.

"My, what big brown eyes you have, grandma," he said softly. He felt the lips under his palm try to twitch into a sneer. "All the better to hate me with."

Voices came from outside, the Slayer and the witch. The two men went still, listening.

"I don't know, Buffy," Willow said pensively. "What if we mess it up?"

"Oh, come on, Wills. I think you'd look cute as a blonde. We could try a strawberry blonde first, just to see."

Xander closed his eyes in dismay as Spike shook his head. "The fabled Slayer," he said softly, "on the hunt for evil and the right color rinse. The night trembles in fear."

Xander snorted in amusement, though he tried to look disapproving right afterwards. The girls moved off, still discussing colorful things.

Spike removed his hand, but kept his weight on his arms resting on Xander's chest. "I don't fancy Red as a blonde. Too bland. What do you think?"

"She'd be too pale--and I'm not discussing Willow's hair color with you."

They stared at each other, Xander trying to lean as far away as he could, even with the stone wall behind him. Spike smiled genially. He leaned completely against Xander, resting his body against the other man.

"You're warm," he observed. "Comfier than that easy chair you tied me into, too."

"Get off me, Spike."

"I think someone isn't quite understanding the power dynamics here." He snuggled in closer.

Xander tried his damnedest not to twitch. There was not enough cloth between his skin and Spike's. He felt the cold of Spike's body leaching the heat out of his. Then there was the whole casual way the bleached wonder had turned him into his own personal lounge chair. Spike must have been on tiptoe, because their bodies matched all the way from shoulder to thigh. And the blue eyes watched him with lazy hunger, like he was the last doughnut in the box and Spike was deciding if eating him was just being greedy or not.

"Make up your mind already, blondie. I had plans tonight."

Spike grinned. "You're going to mouth off to Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates, aren't you, boy."

"Depends on how soon I get there." He flinched, though, as Spike leaned in towards his neck.

"White knight's not as calm as he wants to think," Spike whispered. He ran the tip of his tongue slowly along Xander's jugular, chuckling at the shiver. "You're afraid of me again. It tastes wonderful." He pulled back to study Xander's face, but he looked less pleased. "Damned hellbitch."

"Huh?"

"If I have fun with you, Slayer comes gunning for me, Glory has an open field on grabbing Dawn and strolling home. Tisn't fair."

"Poor baby. So does this mean you're not going to kill me?"

"Sorry, I know it's a disappointment."

"So I'm just supposed to forget you shoving me around and threatening me and--and licking me."

Spike grinned. "I won't be hurt if you don't want to forget."

"You do know I'm just going to go out there and tell everybody that the chip is gone, don't you?" Xander knew there was some plot going on, but be damned if he could see it.

Spike sighed. "True. Which means it'll be open season on Spike after all." He leaned closer, till his nose almost touched Xander's. "Guess I've got no reason not to play with you after all," he purred.

Xander couldn't help swallowing hard. Especially when Spike ran a lazy finger down his throat to his collarbone. The cold touch burned. "Let me go, Spike."

"Why?"

And nothing came to mind. No reason whatsoever why the unchipped vampire with nearly two years of grudges should let him live. Xander laughed briefly. "I've got nothing. Damn," he sighed. "I would have liked to say good-bye to Anya."

Spike stared at him. "That's it? That's all the fight I'm going to get out of you? You may be a pathetic loser, but I thought there was more spunk in you than that." He threw his hands up and stepped away. "I don't think I want you any more."

Xander didn't think for a moment that Spike meant it. He wasn't about to ignore the opening, though. "Then I guess I'll go home."

He actually got to the door before a leather-clad arm reached over his shoulder to hold the mausoleum doors closed. "I don't remember saying you could leave," said the soft voice in his ear.

Xander turned, and this time he didn't care that he was nose to nose with a smiling vampire who liked to play with his victims. "You're either going to let me go or you're going to kill me. I can't beat you, not in a serious fight, and me trying just gives you a happy. So let's just cut to the chase here, Spike. Make up your mind and stop fucking with me."

The smile was lewd. "I have not yet begun to fuck with you, Xander. Though I'd like to."

"No. Way. Kill me or walk away. Decide, right now."

Spike ran a connoisseur's eye along Xander's neck, then shrugged and took a step back. "Killing you fast would just be no fun. So I guess you win."

Xander didn't believe a word of it, but his escape route was clear. Spike held his hands up and took another step away. Xander put a hand on the latch of the door.

"I always did like the way Red screams."

Xander went still.

"The way she struggled and squirmed when I found her in the dorm that night . . ." Spike chuckled. "Her girlfriend's rather nibblesome, too. Be easy to lure Red in if the lovely Tara was help--"

Xander grabbed the lapels of Spike's duster and slammed the vampire against the wall. "You take one step towards Willow, and I'll--"

Spike grinned at him. "You'll what?" He took hold of Xander's wrist and began to squeeze. Xander tried to pull away, and Spike easily tugged him in close. "That's what I like to see. Thinking of me and Red, that gets your blood going, gets that fire burning in your eyes. I don't want you all accepting of your fate, I want you snarling at me."

"You have no idea," Xander growled, staring him in the eyes. "No more shit, Spike. What's going to happen here?"

Spike relaxed and eased his grip on Xander's wrist. Xander tried to yank free, but Spike didn't let him get away. "I'm not going to kill you, Xander, but it's got nothing to do with being worried about the Slayer. It's got everything to do with not causing any distractions while the hellbitch is out there."

"So if Glory weren't around . . ."

The fangs appeared in a gnarled grin. Cat-yellow eyes gleamed in anticipation. "If Glory weren't around, Demon Girl would be calling around in the morning to find out why you didn't come home."

If anything, Xander felt calmer having it stated flat out. "And when we finish Glory?"

Spike ran his tongue along his fangs. "Watch your back."

Xander nodded. "I'm not surprised. But what's stopping you, really? If I hadn't seen you tonight, I'd have no idea you'd gotten the chip out--and how did you do that, anyway?"

"Oh, please, as if I'd tell you. I told you the truth. Glory comes first. We finish her first. And you can't tell the Slayer about the chip."

"Why the hell not? I'm not going to let you wander around everyone with no leash on." He saw Spike's grin. "That night at the shop. Were you . . ."

"Amusing myself with picturing the looks on everybody's faces if I grabbed someone for a late night snack? Yep."

"My god, you and--and Giles together could . . ."

"Call him Ripper, it's easier on the psyche." His expression became serious. "But we didn't try anything, did we? I've got Ripper convinced--for now anyway--to work with your bunch to settle this. But if you go tell the Slayer about the chip, she's going to get distracted at the wrong time. You're going to need me helping keep an eye on Joyce and the Niblet. You think that's going to happen if Slayer knows I'm back in the game?"

"Not in the slightest." Xander looked at the hand wrapped around his wrist. The long fingers didn't go completely around, but Spike wasn't even trying hard to hold on. "Let me go."

Spike thought a moment, then let go. Xander took a step back and rubbed his wrist, trying to erase the sensory memory of those cold, strong fingers. "So what we're looking at here is a deal. I don't tell anybody about the chip and you don't kill me--right now. Until we get Glory settled."

"That about sums it up. And I keep an eye on Joyce and Dawn while making sure Ripper doesn't get creative again."

"Deals with the devil."

"Better the devil you know than the devil who wants to rip the world a new one."

Xander thought for several moments, weighing honor and practicality. "Could Giles really have done it? Given Dawn to some creature in another dimension?"

"Yes. He's never told you the half of what he can do. He's not learning new things, he's just getting back into practice. Him and that chaos mate of his must have gotten up to a lot of mischief together."

"I'm not used to being nervous about Giles."

"Don't you worry about him, I've got him under my eye. I don't work the mojo, but I know what I'm seeing."

"So you watch Joyce and Dawn and Giles, and I don't sic Buffy on you."

"That's it. You watch everybody else. We get Glory tidied out of the way, then we can pick up where we left off."

Xander didn't flinch from Spike's leer. "Right, we pick up at the point that says there are no good vampires, and the Slayer's job is to kill them."

"Just like the good old days. You try to kill me, and I don't have to pretend to be part of your little gang."

Xander smiled. "Try to kill each other whenever we see each other, just like God intended. That'll be nice."

Suddenly Spike was behind him again, arm around his shoulders holding him tight against the chilly body. "And you'll have time to work on those reflexes," he whispered in Xander's ear. "You don't want to make it easy for me." A fang nicked his ear and cold lips nibbled on the wound. "You do taste good, Xander Harris. You'll give me a good run when it's time."

Then Xander was alone, with the bronze doors of the mausoleum clicking closed. Shaking, Xander reached up to his ear, then looked at the blood on his fingers. He sat down on the sarcophagus near the wall, apologizing absently to the occupant. He was going to need a few minutes before he could risk seeing anyone.

"Xander Harris, idiot or brave man?" he muttered. "Find out on the next episode of All My Vampires."

***

Three days after her visit from Giles, Joyce Summers went home. Xander drove the Land Rover, as Buffy was bouncing a little too much for reliable command of a vehicle.

She hung over the back of her seat to talk to her mother in the rear. "And we've moved your bed down to the dining room for now, until you can handle the stairs. Don't worry, we packed everything up real careful. And there are nice heavy curtains on all the windows, so you'll have privacy."

Joyce only blinked at her daughter. "That's very nice, dear."

Xander glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "That's what happens when you've got a Slayer for a daughter. She sees a problem, she slays it."

"Obviously." Joyce looked over at Dawn, who sat next to her mother clutching the bags of personal effects and prescription drugs. "How are you, sweetie?"

"I'm fine," she shrugged.

Joyce raised her arm carefully and put it around Dawn. "I know you are. My brave baby." Dawn burrowed in tight, hiding her face from the others. Buffy blinked several times, then took the hand Joyce held out to her.

Xander kept his eyes on the road, letting the Summers women have some privacy. Weird, though, his allergies didn't usually show up till high summer, but here he was all sniffley in the spring.

"Here we are," he announced, turning onto Revello. "La Casa Grande de La Senora y Las Senoritas Summers."

Joyce looked out nervously, remembering the modifications. "Xander, I thought you were putting in a ramp."

He beamed with pardonable pride. "Yep, from the front walk up to the porch."

"But I don't see it."

Buffy bounced out of the car and ran to the back to get the wheelchair. "He did such a great job, Mom! He moved some of the bushes, put the ramp in at a 90-degree angle, then it turns to go up to the porch. You can hardly tell there wasn't a gap in the railing before."

"But--I was expecting . . ."

Xander held Dawn's door for her as she hopped out. "Some plywood nailed any old how to the front steps? Not from the Xander Harris Construction Company."

Joyce looked at him sternly. "It must have cost a fortune."

"A fortune? A fortune? You have no idea how sloppy construction accounting can be. A few dozen yards of concrete, hardly enough lumber to qualify as scrap . . ."

"Xander . . ."

"Honestly, Mrs. Summers, the foreman at the site happened to mention that lost and damaged materials made a great tax write-off, and if said damaged materials disappeared instead of taking up space in the dumpster, he saved money. And he was very helpful with the design when I said I was working on a wheelchair ramp."

"I'm fairly sure that comes under the heading of kickbacks or bribes."

"Probably," he grinned.

Buffy appeared at her mother's side with the wheelchair. Joyce glared at it. "I know the walker's back there. I can manage that."

"You can manage that on level floors . Ramps, by definition, are not level.." She shook the chair pointedly. "Come on, hop on out." A fleeting look of panic went over her face. "Um, if you're up to it, of course--"

"It's all right, honey." In no way did Joyce regret being home mostly under her own power, but her daughters looked older than their years. Even without the Slayer complications, having to take care of an invalid mother was something they shouldn't have to deal with so young. "The chair will be fine." She climbed carefully out of the car and sat in the chair.

"And it's not like you're going to need it that long, right?" Dawn said. "You're going to be walking in no time."

Joyce took Dawn's hand as Buffy pushed her up the walk. "If I keep up with my physical therapy, probably so."

"Can I help?"

Buffy concentrated on turning the chair onto the ramp without jarring Joyce. "She might need someone who can catch her if she loses her balance. I don't think you're that strong, Dawnie."

"I will need someone to help me keep my balance, someone to lean on," Joyce added quickly, seeing Dawn's face close up. "And someone to be stern when I don't want to do the exercises."

"I can be stern," Buffy protested.

"Yeah, right," Dawn muttered. She pouted dramatically. "Dawn, do the dishes, Dawn, do the laundry. I think I need a fairy godmother to get me out of the cinders."

Buffy stopped pushing to glare. "I am not an ugly stepsister!"

"Well, it's not like you're my real--"

Xander, who had been bringing up the rear and pretending not to listen, reached around to put a finger on Dawn's lips. "Ixnay on the e-kay, OK?"

She stared at him. "Huh?"

"Oh, come on, Buff, you never taught the Dawnster pig Latin? Neglecting your sister's education, here."

Dawn pouted. "Considering my education came from--"

"The California Public School System," Xander cut in, "I'm not surprised you've got big gaps in your knowledge." He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to catch up.

She stared at him for several moments longer, then her eyes went big. "Oh. Oh, yeah, education in the public schools, severely lacking." She looked around the empty street and all the innocent houses. "But why make a big deal of it?" she whispered. "There's nobody here."

Buffy looked grim as she likewise scanned the street. "Nobody we can see, anyway. Good catch, Xander."

He shrugged and tugged at an imaginary hat. "Just doing my job, ma'am."

Buffy resumed pushing the wheelchair. "I'm sorry, Mom. I was hoping not to worry you about all that."

"Too late." She looked at the break in the rail where the ramp met the porch. There were decorative posts on the corners and the paint matched perfectly on the railing that came down the edges of the ramp. "Xander, this is lovely. It looks like it's always been here." Bushes to either side of the ramp disguised it from the street.

Xander blushed. "Not much else I can do, but I can build things." He slipped past the wheelchair and went to the front door. "And I can open doors."

Joyce reached out to squeeze his hand. "Thank you. Buffy, wait a moment. I want to look around." She didn't say anything out loud, but she'd doubted if she'd ever see her home again. The grass had been cut, but the girls had let the edging go. Something to look forward to, getting the lawn back into shape. "Buffy, what happened to the hedge over there?"

"Um, over where, Mom?"

"Over there, it looks like something went through it. And there's a hole in the grass."

Buffy stared at Xander, who looked utterly at a loss. "Um, well . . ."

"There was a wreck a couple of weeks ago," Dawn said. "This guy on a motorcycle came through the hedge and ended up over there."

"Oh, my word, was anyone hurt?" Joyce gasped.

"I don't know, Willow said I was a ghoul for trying to see."

"We couldn't decide if we should fix it ourselves or wait for you," Buffy added.

"Well, I didn't like that border anyway."

As Buffy maneuvered the chair to go through the door, she leaned towards Dawn. "Nice save," she whispered.

"It's those mystic Key powers, you know."

"For fibs?"

Dawn smiled innocently.

Joyce gasped when they entered the living room. A banner reading "Welcome Home, Mom" hung on the wall, with Willow and Tara waiting beneath. There were even balloons.

"Oh, girls--and Xander--you shouldn't have."

Buffy leaned down to hug her. "Sorry, we're really glad to have you home."

Pizza was ordered and ice cream was eaten, all the food that hospitals frowned upon. Joyce wandered around the rooms, reassuring herself that all was well. She smiled at a poster board schedule in the kitchen for things like laundry and dishes and bathroom cleaning. A side section was labeled "Number of Times Dawn's Done Buffy's Work."

She reached for the ballpoint pen hanging from a piece of twine tied to a thumb tack next to the schedule, but she couldn't get her fingers coordinated enough to hold the pen properly. "Damn," she muttered.

Tara brought in a pile of plates from the living room. "Is there something I can get for you, Mrs. Summers?"

"No, no, dear, I was just trying to write something, but . . ." She sighed and gestured with her useless hand.

"My great grandpa had a stroke. He used to ride horses, but they said he'd only be able to get around with a cane."

Joyce frowned. "How old was he?"

"72. Six months after he was out of the hospital, he was back on horseback and he rode to the doctor's house so he could laugh at him."

"That's good to know. What happened to him?"

Tara looked at the floor. "Well, um, he fell off a horse a few weeks later, broke his hip, and died of pneumonia in the hospital."

Joyce stared at her for several moments, then began to laugh. "I'll remember to be careful," she said once she wiped her eyes.

Buffy poked her head in. "Hey, Mom, movie choice time, 'Singin' in the Rain' or 'Sleepless in Seattle'?"

"'Singin' in the Rain', I think. I love Donald O'Connor."

"Cool." They followed Buffy back to the living room. Willow sat by the VCR with a video cassette in either hand. "'Sleepless,'" Buffy said with a grin.

Joyce blinked. "But--"

On the couch, Xander clutched a pillow closer to him. "'Sleepless in Seattle,'" he said, forcing a grin. "Great movie. Uh, this *is* the director's cut version where they all get captured by terrorists and Bruce Willis and Arnold swoop in to save the day, right?" He ducked as Dawn swung another pillow at him.

"Nah, it's neither," Buffy said. "Mom picked that old Gene Kelly one. We'll save the uber-chick flick for a time when there's less testosterone in the room."

Willow ejected the tape she'd just put in. "Mean Buffy. But 'Singin' in the Rain' is cool. Debbie Reynolds is cute."

"Is that Princess Leia's mom?" Xander asked, smacking Dawn back with his pillow.

Joyce shook her head as she carefully sat down. "Among other things, yes. This also has Donald O'Connor doing 'Make 'Em Laugh.'"

"Oh, yeah! Plus that whole 'Moses supposes his toses are roses--'" Xander broke off. "Not that I have that big a knowledge of musicals or anything. It might have been on the late show one night." He huddled back in the corner and made a mental note to hang out with more male type people.

The cheery opening of the classic movie began playing, just as a knock came on the door. Buffy started to her feet, then paused, looking around the room. "Everyone who should be here is here. Anya's coming over after closing the shop, right?"

Xander checked his watch. "Which isn't for another half hour, yet, then she'll need to do the books."

Buffy pulled a cross out of an endtable drawer as she went to the door. She went up on tiptoe to get a look through the windows, then settled back on her feet with a thump. "It's only Spike."

She reached for the doorknob. "Buffy, wait--" Xander started.

Buffy paid no attention. She opened the door and stared at the vampire on the porch. "And what brings you by, Spike?"

Spike tried to look harmless. "Came by to pay my respects. And the respects of someone who might not be quite so welcome."

"Less welcome than you? That's kind of hard to believe."

Joyce tapped Xander on the shoulder. "Would you help me up, please?"

He quickly turned from his tense observation of the action at the door. "Oh, sure." When she was on her feet, though, she headed towards the door. Xander followed anxiously.

"Hello, Spike," she said when she reached the door.

Spike grinned. "There you are, all safe and sound and on your own two feet." Then he frowned. "Should you be up?"

She chuckled. "No, not really. Come in, Spike."

"Mom!" Buffy protested, as Xander squeaked.

Joyce gave her daughter the "who pays the mortgage here?" look and stepped back to let Spike enter. She swayed faintly, and Spike leaped forward to catch her elbow. He beat Xander by a hair, and the two men glared at each other..

"Thank you, gentlemen," Joyce said. She headed back to the couch and let those follow her who would. Spike stayed at her elbow, his hand an inch from her arm.

Xander helped her balance as she sat down. Buffy grabbed Spike's arm and yanked him to one side. "Don't be getting ideas, you. Just because she invited you in doesn't mean you're welcome here."

He bit back his first remark. "What's it going to take for you to believe I am no threat to Joyce or the Niblet?"

"Honestly?" She made sure to meet his eyes. "Seeing you dust. How else could I be sure?"

He nodded grudgingly. "You're right. But until that day, I'm on your side on this."

"I don't like having you in my house. I don't like having you anywhere near my mother or my sister."

He glanced over at the others, who were watching the movie while pretending to ignore the tense conversation in the corner. He smiled faintly, though, when he saw that Xander had taken the chair that faced him, and the human was making no bones about keeping an eye on the proceedings.

"I see you haven't fixed the damage my bike made to your front lawn," he finally said. "Sorry about the flowers, I didn't have time to go around them."

Buffy looked away. "You said you were here for him, too. Where is he?"

"Home with his books. He didn't think he'd be welcome near the fam."

She didn't deny it. "Thank you for stopping him," she muttered. "I still don't trust you. If you didn't have the chip, you'd be just like all the other mad killers. You just don't want the world to end and cut off your soccer games."

He took several moments to get his voice under control. "If all I cared about was stopping Glory, the easiest thing to do would have been to let Ripper play out his hand. You think the chip is the only reason I stopped him?"

She didn't look at him. "You want to stay on my good side . . ."

He stared at her a moment longer, then turned on his heel and walked to the couch. He knelt next to Joyce. "You ever need anything from me, you've got it, right, love?"

Joyce patted his knee. "Right. And thank you. For everything."

He paused, wondering what she knew about things he'd done. But if Joyce knew about Ripper's play for Dawn, Spike was certain she'd already have dusted the ex-Watcher. He kissed her on the cheek and stood.

"You're not staying?" she asked.

"Sorry, love, places to go, atrocities to organize."

Joyce glanced at Buffy and didn't say anything else. "Thank you for coming over, Spike."

"Get better soon." He squeezed her hand and headed for the door.

"Good night, Spike!" Willow called around her handful of popcorn. He waved as he let himself out.

Xander let his breath out. "Yay, he's gone."

"What's with you?" Willow asked. "It's just Spike."

"Yeah, Spike, the bleached blunder, the evil dead."

"The chipped evil dead," Tara added.

Xander took his nerve in hand. "Yeah, about that--" He looked at Joyce, who was looking after Spike with a faintly sad expression. A mom-type expression. Spike had laid his figurative sword at her feet, then walked away in the classic fashion. "I've always wondered if there was a battery we were supposed to change in the thing."

Dawn giggled from where she was guarding the pizza box. "I think it's more like the Energizer bunny. He keeps--"

Xander raised a finger. "Don't finish that, I beg you."

Willow shook her head solemnly. "I don't think he's the big bass drum sort, anyway."

Buffy perched on the arm of the sofa next to Joyce. "Mom, what's with you and Spike?" She kept her voice down so that the others could watch the movie.

"He's a nice young man, I enjoy talking to him."

"But he's a--"

"A vampire, I know. I remember Parent-Teacher night. Even if I didn't understand it at the time. And I remember when you brought him to the house and told me he was in a band. He sat in that chair and acted exactly like an uncomfortable guest. We made small talk, Buffy. He didn't seem anything like--" She paused and gave Buffy an apologetic look.

Buffy sighed. "Like Angel, that night he came over and told you . . . Yeah. But that was because he wanted my help, so he behaved himself. He knows I can kick his butt."

"And you still can, can't you?"

"Oh, yeah, I can lay a major ass-whupping on him anytime I want."

Joyce stared at her. "Where did you learn to talk like that, young lady?"

"Um--Willow's a bad influence."

Joyce shook her head. "And then he came over, so broken hearted over Drusilla. He wanted someone to talk to."

"Yeah, after he kidnapped Willow and Xander, which nearly got Cordelia killed. And, Mom, I told you how he was getting all freaky stalkerish over me."

"Yes, that's true," Joyce admitted. "I keep forgetting that. But it was very kind of him to visit me in the hospital."

Buffy nearly fell off the couch. "He did what? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want you to get upset. You have so much to worry about just now."

"Yeah, like the fact that vampires are visiting my mom in the hospital when I'm not there to protect her."

"They never bothered--" Joyce bit her lip.

Buffy's stomach tightened. "They?" She'd been torturing herself with trying to think of a way to break the news to her mother. She didn't know if Joyce and Giles had ever become friends, band candy night very much notwithstanding, but there was a bond. "Was--was Giles with him?"

Joyce nodded slowly, and she put a hand on Buffy's leg. "I'm sorry, dear. I know how much he means to you, how much you've depended on him."

Buffy stared at the weave of the upholstery until she was sure she wasn't going to burst into tears. "That's--gone now. That's not Giles, that's just something wearing his face." She looked up quickly. "If he shows up here, don't let him in."

"No, I won't," she said after a moment. "He's very close to what he was, but--he frightens me a little. Do the others know?"

"Yeah, they know. It's been hard." She watched the TV screen, where Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds sniped at each other in Debbie's cute little roadster. "You know what I like about this movie?"

Joyce pulled her down to sit next to her. "What's that, sweetie?"

"Everything." She put her head on her mother's shoulder, her warm, recovering, home-at-last mother.

It was late when everyone finally went home. Joyce made it to the end of the movie before exhaustion took its toll. Buffy and Dawn helped her get settled for the night, ignoring her complaints about how she should be able to manage simple things by herself. Buffy reminded her that Slayer hearing meant that any calls for assistance would be heard and that Joyce was not to worry about a thing. Joyce tried to give instructions for getting up in the morning and getting ready for school, but sleep silenced her mid-sentence.

Dawn paused at the doorway to watch for a few moments. Carefully she counted the ins and outs of the breath, making sure everything was even and wishing she had super hearing too so she could listen to the heartbeat.

Buffy squeezed her shoulders. "Come on, let's let her rest," she whispered. "You need to get up in the morning."

"I know. I just . . ."

"The hospital wouldn't have let her leave if she wasn't ready. She's going to be here in the morning."

Dawn looked at her. "Promise?"

The two stared at each other, seeing the fear in the other's eyes. Then Buffy nodded firmly. "Promise."

Knowing promises were lies, Dawn accepted it anyway. She silently warned the universe that she was the Key, darn it, and the universe better not mess around with her if it knew what was good for it.

They got ready for bed, but Dawn sat up and stared out her window long after she heard the noises from Buffy's room that were not, nor ever would be, in any way related to snores. Out there in the dark, the undead hunted and an evil goddess searched for her missing Key. An ailing mother had no bearing on that world. What was important was making it through to the morning side of the dark.

She'd changed her clothes before she really thought of it, and the