Dawn had provided an ecstatic welcome when Xander and Willow brought Buffy and Giles home that afternoon. Dinner had been a family affair, with everyone there, even Anya. Giles and Buffy had barely spoken to each other, but no one really noticed, too busy asking questions and listening to Giles, the consummate storyteller, recounting their various adventures and describing the world that had very nearly become their permanent home.

It wasn't until the front door closed for the last time, a couple of hours after Dawn had reluctantly gone to bed, that the two of them finally faced each other again.

“I'll get the linen for the couch.”

Momentary surprise, instantly controlled, showed in Buffy's face. “You're not well enough to sleep on the couch. You get Willow's room tonight. She's staying at Xander's.”

He nodded and then seemed to make some effort to lighten the situation. “It's good to be back.”

She almost smiled. “Yeah, it is,” she agreed.

For two hours Buffy tossed and turned, got up and looked out her window, then tossed some more. Then she dressed and went out to patrol. About halfway along her normal beat, she made a decision.

The crypt door was closed, but not locked. Buffy opened it and stepped inside. It was nothing like his old one. He hadn't even bothered to try and make it a home. It was a very old one, maybe from last century, and as neglected as his previous one.

“Spike?”

“Heard you were back.”

“Where are you?”

He stepped out of the shadows, dwarfed by the statue that rose up behind him: a Victorian mother and infant.

“Thought you were dead…or something.”

Buffy half smiled. He was still Spike. “Yeah, well. Not dead. Giles and me…we're good at surviving…unless there's a prophecy or a god involved, I guess.”

“So…you two did a little bonding on your little adventure?”

“Depends what you mean by 'bonding'.” She was well aware of the innuendo in his voice, and she hadn't forgotten his earlier suspicions about them.

He regarded her for a minute. “Well, I can see you haven't exactly been shaggin' like bunnies…but something's changed. Unless of course you've come sniffin' around because you need to scratch that old itch again…?”

Buffy actually smiled. “You're still disgusting, Spike.”

He looked at her with his clear blue eyes, still as easy to read as they always had been. In a way, it had been one of the things that had drawn her to him. He was easy: no complications, no reverses…at least not at first. He was what he was and he made no apologies for it…and he saw what she was, after she came back, and he didn't care.

“You come to say hello, or goodbye, Pet? I haven't eaten yet tonight, so…”

“Definitely still a pig. And whether you get anything to eat tonight depends on what…or who, it is.”

Spike drew out a cigarette and lit it up. “I can't keep anything cold here, now can I? No power. No telly and no bloody microwave, either,” he drawled. “Clem keeps a supply for me.”

Buffy's eyes narrowed. When Spike started making a point of looking laid back and unconcerned it almost always meant he was anything but.

Her tone softened. “Are you okay?”

He threw the barely-smoked cigarette down and ground it into the floor. “Depends on what you mean by 'okay'. I'm stuck in this draughty wreck of a crypt, wondering if you're dead or alive, and the idiot carpenter-boy decides they don't need me to patrol with them. I'm starting to wonder if it's time to move on, and Red comes to see me, tells me you're back and alive. Then she tells me to leave you alone. 'Things have changed', she said.”

Buffy shrugged. “Things are different. But then, things have been different between us for a while now…”

Spike's expression grew bitter and impatient. “Since that little episode in your bathroom, you mean?” She looked up at him, and he was surprised to see that the memories of it were still able to make her look fragile, even after all this time. That only made him more frustrated.

“Anybody think something actually happened,” he snapped. “Grow up. You know and I know that it would never have happened if we hadn't had…something…and if you'd been able to make up your bloody mind what you wanted!”

Buffy stood her ground, her eyes filling with long-unshed tears. “I know that,” she said quietly. “I've never denied it. Funny, up until now you've never denied that what happened was still wrong, either.”

He put his head back, frustrated, angry, hurt.

“Was Red right about you two?”

“If she said that Giles was the first man I've ever truly loved, then yeah, she was right.”

Vampire and Slayer stood staring at each other, both just as shocked at her statement; both for very different reasons.

When his wits returned, Spike sneered. “He's old enough to be your old man.”

“And you, Spike? When was your birthday again? Oh, yeah, Willow looked you up for me…did I tell you? You let yourself get vamped because you were this scared little guy who wrote poetry and lived with his mother until he was forty years old. Am I close?”

“Bollocks,” he growled. “He's an old man. I'm not and I never will be. You want a daddy, not a real man.”

Buffy hit him, hard. “I know you're only saying all these things because, somehow, you know what I'm saying is true. Don't do this, Spike. You're better than this…now.”

Spike opened his mouth to speak, but Buffy went on.

“I'm sorry, William. I'm really sorry. I was going to go through with tomorrow. I even came here tonight because I had to know. We had something, you and me. I don't know what it was, but it was something and I missed you for a long time…after.”

Spike's lips parted and his eyes grew brighter and brighter.

“The thing is, even though I truly had feelings for you, I knew that half of them were wrong, and the other half even I couldn't explain or give a name to. I still can't. I know that now. I mean, right now…for the first time, I really understand. And I'm really, really sorry. I wish I was as smart as Willow, or as all-knowing about relationships as our resident vengeance demon, but I'm not. Let's face it: I'm the Helen Keller of relationship understanding…of any kind of relationship. I didn't mean for any of it to happen the way it did and I didn't mean for you…” She stopped, emotion making her voice too hoarse.

“Bloody Slayers,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “The only creatures I know who can kill you without killing you.” He frowned and cleared his throat. “So the sodding Watcher finally owned up, did he?”

“Owned up?”

He laughed, perhaps the unhappiest laugh Buffy had ever heard. “Like you said, Luv, you're as blind as a bat, and sometimes as dumb as one. What did you think I used to make him go to pieces back when I threw my lot in with that useless Adam git?”

Buffy frowned. “He was already feeling left out. You made him feel useless, made him feel like I didn't want…him…any…more. *Oh, God.*”

“Yeah, now you're getting it. Silly bint. I was the only one who could see that the stupid old bastard was eating himself up because he had no reason to stay, no reason to be your other half any more. All that crap about a mid-life crisis…he almost had himself believing it too. But old Spike knew better. A few words here, a few there and he was hittin' the bottle just to anaesthetize himself enough so that he didn't have to face the truth…or feel the pain.”

“My other half?”

Spike shook his head. “You still don't get it?” He was about to tell her in even more blunt terms, but she raised a trembling hand to still him.

“I get it. That's why you thought we were…and why you told me he didn't mean it that time: when we were eavesdropping on that conversation he had with Willow after she brought me back…”

He lit up another cigarette, this time because he needed it. “Red deserved to get her arse kicked, and old Rupes did right to do the kicking, but he never said anything I wouldn't have said in his place.”

“You…you wouldn't have brought me back, either?”

He shook his head, ash flicking off the tip of the smoke in his mouth. “Don't be too hard on Red, though. She's never really going to grow up, that one. She'll still be a little girl looking for someone to love her when she's ninety. Family of hers really did a number on her.”

“I didn't come here to talk about Willow.”

His head tilted to one side. “All right. I wouldn't have brought you back for the same reasons your sodding sugar daddy wouldn't. Happy now?”

Tears flicked from Buffy's lashes. “I'm sorry, William,” she said softly.

“I know,” he said, but she was already gone, racing back to the man she loved.

Spike went across and rested his forehead on the wall of the crypt for a long moment, then turned and slid down it until he was sitting in the dust, head resolutely up but shrouded in shadow, and drawing on his smoke just as though he still had lungs to fill with the acrid smoke. It was a long time before he dropped the butt and bowed his head.

When Buffy got back to the house, Giles was up, pottering in the kitchen.

“Patrol?”

She nodded. “Kinda. Couldn't sleep?”

“Not really.”

“Me either. Do you…what are you going to do, today?”

Giles looked up from the canister of tea he was opening. “I hadn't given it a great deal of thought, actually. Dawn tells me the rest of my belongings are still in the attic. I suppose I should bring them down, do some washing…sort everything.”

Buffy stood watching him for a moment. He was shaved, but he was wearing nothing but black pyjama bottoms. Not even a robe. Not so long ago he'd have died before letting anyone see him dressed…or undressed…like that. He looked beyond wonderful…but somehow, the newly smooth face seemed only to add to the distance between them.

When Giles realized what she was looking at, he apologised. “I think young Dawn might have boxed up all of my things from the bathroom, the living room…even that closet I was using, when they realized we weren't coming back. I wore these the night before that patrol. They were in the box Willow found, along with the books I was reading, my sneakers, some mail and magazines, my shaving kit and a number of other personal items. Unfortunately they were the only nightclothes in there. And none of you are quite my size.”

Her expression made it clear she was enjoying the view. “No complaints here. So have you had breakfast yet?”

He shook his head and looked up at her inquiringly, very much the Giles of old, except for the naked chest…

“Just tea so far. Do you want some?”

A short time later they sat in silence, sipping at their scalding hot drinks. When they were done, Buffy took the cups back to the kitchen and Giles went upstairs to the bathroom to shower and dress.

Giles stepped out of the steaming shower and reached for the lush, dark blue towel hanging on the rack just as the door opened.

“Dawn, you must learn to knock. I'm in he—”

But it wasn't Dawn.

“Buffy?

“I brought you some clothes. They're new. I got them when we were at Xander's.”

“When you bought that dress?”

She nodded.

“With my money, I take it?”

She nodded again, watching his lithe body as he snatched up the towel and wrapped it around his hips.

“I'll drop by the ATM when I can and get enough to pay you back. Dawn and the others kept everything just like we were both still here, except for my job at the school. Apparently I got fired for taking too many days off to spend with my boyfriend…”

At his incredulous look, she shrugged. “The guys thought it would be easier if I got fired: way, way less explaining and lying about why I wasn't around.”

He peered into the large shopping bag she gave him while she was talking.

“Wear everything, okay? I mean it…and don't shave…”

Giles looked up to ask her what she meant, and found that she'd already slipped away…

When he finally emerged from the bathroom he wasn't sure if he felt like an utter prat or not.

Dawn, rubbing her eyes and staggering toward her morning ablutions, stopped short and stared through slitted lids.

“Is that you, Giles?”

“Good morning, Dawn.”

“Still stuffy. Yep. It's you.” She shuffled past him without opening her eyes any further.

Giles chuckled to himself as the bathroom door closed behind him, and headed for some breakfast feeling better than he had in many days.

When he reached the landing he realized Buffy was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. She was wearing the green and white sundress and the white sandals again, and this time her hair and her face were beautifully done, so that she looked radiant in the morning light.

He came down very slowly, wondering what kind of bombshell might be dropped on him at the bottom. Had she already dressed to visit the bloody vampire? Could she not wait any longer?

At the bottom of the steps, Buffy was watching Giles' descent, or more accurately watching his body move in the black shirt, designer jeans and black boots she'd bought for him. And he was wearing the silver hoop…

She swallowed as he sped up for the last few steps, the relatively tight, beautifully fitting jeans accentuating every contour as his legs and hips moved.

“You did it,” she managed, staring at the stretch knit black shirt, and the perfect way it sat on his hips, among other things.

Still distracted by his disgruntled thoughts, Giles didn't get it. “Did what…?”

“You wore everything. God, you look good.”

That floored him. “I do?”

Buffy stood on tiptoe and removed his glasses, folded them and put them in his breast pocket.

“You do,” she confirmed, drew his nonplussed head down, and kissed him on the mouth.

“Oh, God, do you have to do that before breakfast?” A voice croaked at the top of the stairs.

Buffy lifted her head and grinned as Dawn passed them on her way to the kitchen, still not particularly awake.

“Get used to it, kiddo.”

Dawn kept going. “Not today. I'm going to Janice's after breakfast…thank God.”

When their eyes met again, Giles' were incredulous, which made him blunt. “What happened to your 'date'?”

She shrugged. “Cancelled.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that…well, not exactly just like that. I mean I found out last night where I wanted to be today and with who…with whom,” she corrected before he could do it.

“Last night?” He asked, deadpan.

She nodded. “I went to see Spike.”

“Ah.”

“What 'ah'? There is no 'ah'.”

He looked away. “Yes. Fine. No 'ah.' What on earth would make me think there was?”

For the first time the possibility that something was wrong penetrated Buffy's haze of happiness and contentment.

“You think something happened last night? That I couldn't wait to go and throw myself at Spike again the way I did last year? Even after…” She paused to stop her lip from trembling. “After everything that's happened, you thought…?”

His jaw tightened. “How can I know what to think?” He said tightly. “Tell me when I have ever been in a position to know who you are or understand what you want? *When...*? Before you died, you had nothing but contempt for everything that Spike stood for…and I come back and find you've not only been shagging him the entire time I was away, but to do so you've neglected your sister, your calling, satisfied yourself with a job far below your abilities and shunned your friends to the degree that you didn't even know how much of a mess they'd made of their lives, until it was far too late.”

Buffy's colour waned and then flooded back, flushing her cheeks. When she spoke her voice trembled despite her obvious attempt to control it. “Why are you doing this?”

Giles lost patience. “Doing what?” He demanded roughly. “How long, Buffy? How long am I to dance on a string until you're ready to decide whether or not I'm to be a part of your life, or just some damn tool to be taken out like one of my books whenever you need support?” He snorted and started quoting: 'Research for me, Giles. Supervise Dawn for me, Giles. Mind the neutered vampire for me, Giles.' 'Nurse my sick boyfriend who tortured you here, for hours, for fun, and we won't even think about the fact that he killed…” He stopped, breathing hard.

“Are you done, now?” She asked in a very still voice, then turned and fled out the front door.

He stood staring after her for the longest time, then sat down slowly on the bottom stair and lowered his face into his hand.

When Willow returned to the Summers household, it was with the very real expectation of seeing some Buffy-Giles cuteness in action. However, when she let herself in, the house was silent.

Dawn had obviously gone to visit friends, but there was no sign of Buffy or Giles anywhere downstairs. She smiled to herself. Maybe…

But when she reached the door to her room it was open and only one occupant was present, sitting in her newest favourite possession…a large cane chair by the window.

“Hi.”

He didn't look up.

Willow moved silently across the room to stand behind the chair.

“Giles…?”

The tawny head half-turned. “Willow?”

“Are-are you sick again?”

The head shook silently.

“Something's wrong?”

“No apocalypses are imminent.”

“*Giles…*”

“I'm sorry, Willow. I'm just…not quite feeling myself at the moment.”

“Buffy's not in her room. Do you know where she is?”

He looked her straight in the eye. “I haven't the faintest idea.”

Willow frowned. She could feel that he was completely out of balance, and it wasn't just from the dimensional displacement or his illness. Something was very wrong with his spirit.

“Giles, let me in. I want to help,” she said very softly.

He looked out the window again. “I'm an ass,” he said simply. “And a fool for believing in dreams.”