Buffy woke with a jerk from her nightmare; she had been kissing Angel when a huge demon stepped up behind him and swallowed him whole as he screamed her name. Oh, God, she thought, not a nightmare . . . it was real. Buffy tried to focus, tried to remember where she was.

Buffy looked around the room trying to determine exactly where she was. From her position lying on her side in the bed, she was looking over a nightstand at a dresser against the wall. She saw her tattered shirt in a heap on the floor along with her shoes and some other clothing, but she could see little else. Lifting up to get a better look around, she felt a weight across her middle. Buffy stopped moving as it all came back to her. She was at the mansion on Crawford Street and it was Spike’s arm across her. He was holding her back against his front as they spooned together in sleep. He started to stir when he felt her wake up, but she laid her arm over his, interlacing her warm fingers with his cool ones and held his arm in place across her middle. Snuggling back against him, she prayed silently for him to stay where he was; she didn’t think she could stand being alone just yet.

When he settled in against her and let out a small sigh, she closed her eyes again and relaxed into him. She had no idea how long they had been asleep. The room was dark. No shit, Sherlock: vampire = dark. They could have been here an hour or a day, she had no idea, but she was still exhausted and just wanted to rest a little while longer.

Buffy thought she was dreaming again when she heard her name being called. It sounded far, far away. She couldn’t wake up enough to figure it out and hoped it would just go away. She didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to move, didn’t want to face a day knowing that she had sent the love of her life to hell, with his soul intact, no less. Just want to sleep. Sleep good, she thought as she drifted back into the fog.

Suddenly, she felt Spike’s hand yank out of hers and his hard torso pull away from her back where she had snuggled against it. There were many voices now “BLOODLY HELL!” , “BUFFY!”, “OH GOD!”, “GET AWAY FROM HER!”; all close to her, all much too loud. She willed herself to open her swollen eyes and clear her foggy brain to see what was going on. She rolled over to find Xander on top of Spike on the bed beside her. He was struggling to put a stake through Spike’s chest, while Spike tried to push him away.

Buffy yelled, “NO! XANDER, NO!” throwing herself at him. They both tumbled to the floor on the other side of the bed. Buffy leapt to her feet and pulled Xander up by the front of his shirt. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked angrily.

“Spike! Spike was . . . he was . . . attacking you!” Xander stuttered the accusation out.

“Noooo,” Buffy dragged the word slowly across her tongue. “He was not attacking me.” Buffy suddenly realized that Xander wasn't alone - Willow, Oz, and Cordelia were standing in the doorway of the bedroom, looking on.

“Then what’s going on, Buffster? Where’s Angel? What’s Spike doing here? Where’s Drusilla? What’s Spike doing here, with you, in bed? Why are you wearing his T-Shirt? What the HELL happened here after I left with Giles?” Xander was suddenly angry with Buffy.

Spike was now standing at the end of the bed and Buffy moved to put herself between him and the others in the room. “Angel is gone.” It was barely a whisper. Tears stung her eyes and she willed them not to fall.

“Angel’s gone where?” Xander pressed her.

“He’s GONE, Xander! DEAD! No more! History! Sucked into a HELL DIMENSION with his SOUL firmly intact! Is that what you want to hear?!” Buffy had gotten pretty pissed off herself.

There was an audible gasp from Willow. “His soul . . . intact?”

“Yes, at the last minute . . . it was too late . . . I had no choice, I had to . . . had to . . .” Buffy was going to lose it all over again; she wasn’t ready for these questions. Spike stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. She closed her eyes and leaned back into his chest to steel herself before she started again. “I had to kill him to close the portal. Angel's gone.”

“And Drusilla?” Xander prodded.

She could feel Spike stiffen behind her and wished she could give him some strength as he had done for her, but she just didn’t have any to give, so she answered simply, “Dusted.”

“Angel’s gone . . . so you find the next best undead thing and fall into bed with him?” Xander asked with disgust as he eyed Spike.

“OI!” Spike exclaimed.

Buffy slapped Xander across the face. “Wow, Xander, you gonna' need a parachute with that leap? 'Cause you have no idea what's going on here!”

“Well, why don’t you explain it to us Buff, because it looks to me like you’re sleeping with the enemy, AGAIN.” Xander held a hand on his cheek where she had struck him, trying to stop the throbbing that was radiating to all parts of his head.

“Spike is not my enemy. He’s . . . he’s . . . he’s a . . . a friend, an ally.” All her friends looked at her incredulously. Spike? A friend? An ally? Had she lost her mind?

Buffy kept on, un-phased by their gaping mouths. “If it weren’t for Spike, I’d be dead right now – or worse . . . much, much worse than dead! Dead to the power of TEN, would I be right now. He saved me! Twice! He helped me stop Angelus! And that was before he got his soul!”

The small room erupted again with everyone talking at once.

 “What the bloody hell, Slayer!?”, "His Soul?”, “What?”, “How?”

Buffy looked at Willow. “Spike was fighting with Angel when you did the spell to restore Angel’s soul, it got them both, Will – I saw it.” She turned around to look into Spike's face. His brows were pinched together, his head tilted, questioning her, his blue eyes boring into hers. “Can't you feel it?”

Spike suddenly turned away from her and walked back to the farthest wall, his hands holding both sides of his head in utter frustration. "Arrrggh, you bloody white hats!" he yelled, turning back around and advancing on Buffy with vampire speed. Stopping just inches from her, he poked a finger at her chest and yelled, “TAKE. IT. THE. HELL. BACK. I don’t want a bleedin' soul! I’m not Peaches. TAKE IT BACK!”

“I don’t think we can, Spike.” Willow stepped back away from Spike and Buffy as she spoke, afraid that he might attack her right there, soul or no. “You got your soul back at the same time Angel got his, from the same ritual and now Angel’s gone . . . I don’t think we can undo it, you know? Because, ummm, Angel . . . gone?”

“It’s ok Spike, all you have to do is fuck the Slayer one time and that pesky soul will scamper right off. Apparently, she doesn’t have a problem screwing the undead. It looked to me like you were half way there when we walked in, anyway,” Xander said scornfully.

Xander had pushed Buffy too far this time, but before she could even react Spike was past her and had lifted Xander up off the floor by the throat.

“You need to learn to hold your tongue, Boy, and show the Slayer the respect she deserves, because you haven’t the slightest bloody idea what you’re talkin' about,” Spike snarled.

Xander struggled to breathe beneath Spike’s grasp, but Spike held him firm. “I ought to rip your head off and eat your brains. Oh, wait! No brains in there, huh, scarecrow?”

“Spike.” Buffy laid her hand on the arm that was holding Xander prisoner. “Spike, let him go.”

“Not until he apologizes to you.”

“He can’t talk, Spike – it’s a small problem we humans have. We have to be able to breathe to form words.” Buffy spoke calmly, and tightened her grip on Spike’s arm just enough for him to feel it.

Spike relaxed his grip on Xander’s throat only slightly, but Buffy firmed her grip on his arm further and pulled it away, leaving Xander bent over and gasping for breath.

“Sorry,” he finally croaked out.

“Doesn’t sound like you really mean it, scarecrow,” Spike said, his voice low and threatening.

“I mean it, I mean it! I’m sorry!” Xander rushed the words out.

Pulling Spike further away from Xander, who was still bent over and gasping for breath, Buffy turned her attention to the others. “How's Giles?”

Willow brightened at the change of subject. “He’s fine, Buffy, I mean he’s gonna be fine, just, you know, conked on the head and tortured and all . . . . but no, fine, really! Don’t worry.”

Buffy addressed her three friends still near the doorway. “Guys, could you do me a favor and pick up some pig's blood from the butcher and drop it back by here later?”

“Bugger that, Slayer . . . . again, not Peaches here. Not drinking no soddin’ pig's blood when there’s lots of happy meals still walking around.”

Buffy turned to face him. “Spike, are you planning on staying here? In Sunnydale, I mean?”

“Don’t suppose I have any pressin' engagements elsewhere,” he retorted.

“Then there will be no walking meals, happy or otherwise.” Buffy’s eyes locked with his, daring him to defy her. After several seconds, Spike blinked first, lowering his eyes to the ground and, with a small nod, gave in to her demand.

Turning back to her friends she said, “Ok, that’s settled then, if you guys will do that for me, I’d appreciate it.”

“What are you gonna do, Buffy?” asked Willow looking between the two blonds. “I mean, you know, will you, umm, be here when we get back?”

“I don’t know, probably not, I need to go home in a little while and have a Slayer to Freaked-out-Mom talk and then check on Giles . . .”

“Well, umm, it’s just that, you know, not really feeling the love here . . .maybe you were wrong about that soul thing.” Willow looked warily at Spike who instinctively shifted his body language to his best “Big Bad” look; hooking his thumbs over his belt buckle, squaring his shoulders, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips together.

“Spike’s not gonna hurt you guys are you, Spike?” When there was no answer from behind her, she turned to him, again issuing the challenge with her eyes locked to his. “Are you, Spike!?” she repeated.

Bloody demanding bitch, he thought as he held her gaze, Bloody beautiful demanding bitch. His mind flashed back to the kiss when she was standing against him, shackled and seemingly helpless, but not really helpless at all - brave, strong, her lips soft, giving, but also demanding. He thought about just that morning, just a few minutes ago really, when she was snuggled against him; her heat warming him, comforting him like he’d never felt before. His cock started to harden in his jeans from the memory of her body next to his . . . bloody hell!

He moved his eyes to the three standing near the door. “Nah, won’t be turning your little friends into sodding Scooby snacks, Slayer. Except maybe scarecrow boy; he’s not welcome here until he learns some respect.” He turned a hard glare on Xander who had finally caught his breath but was still massaging his throat where Spike had held him.

Buffy knew she wouldn’t win an argument over Xander with Spike right now, especially since she pretty much felt the same way at this point. “Fine, then, that’s settled. You guys can go on. I need to talk to Spike a few minutes, then I’ll head home myself and catch up with you later.”

As the three near the door turned to leave, Spike heard Xander mutter under his breath, “Talk . . . riiight.” Before anyone knew what was happening, Spike buried a fist in the drywall next to Xander’s head. Although the others hadn’t heard Xander, Buffy had, and she didn’t interfere with Spike this time.

Spike was standing nose to nose with Xander, blue eyes locked on brown, one fist buried in the drywall by Xander’s head, the other pressed into the wall on the opposite side, barring Xander from moving. “You know, even without a soul I had more compassion for my mortal enemy than you do for someone you call a friend, you git! She killed the man she loved last night, sent him to hell by her own hand!”

“She killed the monster she loved last night, not a man!” Xander retorted, his anger overwhelming his fear. “And now she’s fallen in with another monster when the old one isn’t even cold yet! Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

“And if she has? What are you, jealous?!” Spike watched Xander’s face carefully for a reaction to the words and, although it was only a quick emotion passing behind the younger man’s eyes, Spike saw it and knew he was right. “That’s it, idn't it?! You’re just sodding jealous that the Slayer wouldn’t have you, you fucking wanker. You’ve no bloody right to judge her, she’s the Slayer, she’s a WARRIOR." Spike articulated the world carefully to be sure the brainless git understood. "She saves this world, including your sorry ass, every fucking day and she can love whoever she bloody well wants to. It’s not up to you!”

Spike suddenly pulled away from Xander, showering plaster dust down on him as he pulled his hand out of the drywall. “Now sod off before I do something that she’ll regret.”

Xander quickly followed the others out of the room and Spike slammed and locked the door as soon as Xander had cleared the threshold. Buffy let out a breath that she wasn’t aware she had been holding and all her energy seemed to drain from her body with the air. She collapsed back onto the bed, lying on her back, her feet still on the floor, her arms crossed over her face, eyes closed as she willed herself not to start crying again. “Well, that was pleasant . . . as in not!” she tried to sound angry, but it sounded more like disappointment than anger.

Xander’s words rang in her head, “She killed the MONSTER she loved . . ." and the tears she had been holding back started falling again. She turned on her side, hugging her knees to her chest in an effort to make herself as small as possible as the sobs began wracking her body again.

Spike sat back on the bed and pulled her to into his lap, she buried her face against his chest, unable to stop the tears. Her heart felt as if it had been pulled, still beating, from her chest, and it had been one of her best friends that had stuck a knife in the open wound and twisted.

Spike rocked her, trying to soothe her with gentle words and caresses. Soon, his words had changed into a lullaby. As he sang softly to her, he wondered how it came back to him so easily, the lullaby his Mum used to sing.

As the tears flowed freely down his face, Spike realized that he hadn't thought of the song in over a hundred years. He wondered if it was getting his soul back, William's soul, that made him remember. The words of the old lullaby never meant more to him than at this moment, as he rocked the heart-broken Slayer in his arms.

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