“If I could keep my innermost Me/Fearless, aloof and free/Of the least breath of love or hate,/And not disconsolate/At the sick load of sorrow laid on men;/If I could keep a sanctuary there/Free even of prayer,/If I could do this, then,/With quiet candor as I grew more wise/I could look even at God with forgiving eyes.” ~Sara Teasdale, “The Sanctuary”

Xander opened the apartment door for Anya and let her precede him inside. “So, what do you think?”

“You want to get this apartment?”

“I think so.”

“And you want me to move in with you.”

Xander wondered why that sounded almost like a trick question. “If you want to. I just thought it was the next step.”

Anya spun slowly, looking around the apartment. “This place is beautiful, Xander.”

“You like it, then?”

“I love it!” With a squeal of delight, Anya threw her arms his neck, giving him an enthusiastic kiss that Xander was loath to break off.

“Not here, hon,” he whispered into her ear. “We’ll christen the place as soon as I put the deposit down.”

She pulled back. “Promise?”

“Definitely.” Xander had the check written. He’d just been waiting for Anya’s opinion before finalizing the rental. “We’ve got to make a stop by Spike’s place. I have something to drop off.”

“What are you doing for Spike?” Anya asked as they walked out of the apartment.

The manager was waiting in the hallway for them, and Xander handed her his completed application and a check. “Thanks for meeting us today.”

“I’m always happy to help,” the manager said cheerfully. “I’ll call you within the next couple of days to let you know when you can move in. You did say that sooner was better than later, right?”

“That’s right.” Xander smiled. “My current living situation isn’t great.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

He waited until they were in his car before replying to Anya’s question. “I have some documents for Dawn. Spike wanted to get her into school as soon as possible.”

“Why?” Anya asked. “Wouldn’t it be safer to keep her home?”

Xander shook his head. “No, not according to Spike. He wants her to be as normal as possible, to fit in with everybody else.”

“She’s a big ball of energy,” Anya replied. “How is she going to do that?”

He grimaced. “Well, from what I’ve heard, she’s taking the whole being a normal teen thing to heart.”

~~~~~

“But why can’t I wear that?” Dawn demanded.

Buffy was finding new respect for her mother’s struggles years ago over what she was going to wear. Dawn had to have more clothes, since whoever or whatever created her hadn’t seen fit to create an entire wardrobe. Although Joyce had run out and grabbed a few things on Sunday, this was the first chance they’d had to do any real shopping.

And Buffy was finding it to be more of a chore than she ever found shopping to be.

“Because I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to spend one hundred dollars on a pair of jeans,” Joyce replied patiently.

“Spike has the money,” Dawn replied, sounding exactly like a bratty teen.

Joyce smiled. “Spike was kind enough to help you out. Do you really want to take advantage of that?”

Buffy was amazed at how her mother managed to lay such a big guilt trip even though she’d said so very little. Dawn’s shoulders immediately slumped, and she sighed. “No, I don’t.”

“The last pair you tried on looked really good.” Buffy was trying to be helpful, remembering how important it had been for her to have the right clothes—still was, now that she thought about it. “And I really like that shirt.”

Dawn looked down at the red t-shirt with the silver abstract design she wore. “You think so?”

“It looks fine, Dawn.” Joyce shifted slightly in her chair. “Why don’t you go change? I think we’ve exhausted our options here.”

Buffy waited until Dawn had disappeared back into the dressing room. “Was I ever that much trouble?”

Joyce smiled. Buffy recognized that expression as “mother knows best,” and she suddenly knew what Joyce’s answer would be. “Oh, sweetheart, you were more trouble than that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You were worth it.”

Buffy leaned against her mother’s arm. “Are you guys okay with this?” She didn’t need to specify what she was referring to; she knew her mother would know.

“It did change our plans,” Joyce responded, keeping her voice low. “But I think we’ll make it work. We’ll have to for her sake.”

Dawn emerged from the dressing rooms just then, the clothing she’d selected hanging over one arm. “Okay, I’m ready,” she announced.

“Good, because I’m getting hungry,” Buffy said.

“That reminds me. Rupert promised to make dinner tonight. You and Spike are welcome to join us, Buffy.”

“I’ll give him a call and ask,” she replied. “I think he had talked about looking for Dracula this evening.”

“Dracula is real?” Dawn asked, suddenly breathless with excitement.

Buffy bit back a sigh, remembering that Willow’s reaction had been similar. Of course, if she was being honest with herself, she’d been rather excited to know that the famous vampire was not a myth, and only Spike’s presence had caused her to hold back.

“Yes, he’s real, and no, you’re not going to be seeing him. The only vampire I want you getting close to is Spike.”

Dawn shrugged. “Fine by me.”

The way she said it told Buffy that the girl someone had created to be her little sister already had a crush on Spike. Not that she could blame Dawn, exactly. But teenage crushes ranged from harmless to serious pain in the ass, and she didn’t know Dawn well enough to tell which way it was going to go.

So it was probably a really good thing that Dawn would be living with her mother and Giles. Of her friends, she didn’t think anyone but Willow had ever had a crush on her Watcher.

Buffy was in the middle of paying for Dawn’s new clothes with Spike’s credit card when she noticed Joyce putting a hand to her abdomen. “Are you okay?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Joyce nodded. “The baby’s kicking. I think that he or she is going to be very active.”

Buffy realized with a strange sort of longing that she would never experience that—she would never be pregnant. Not only did being the Slayer preclude motherhood, but Spike couldn’t have children.

And she suddenly remembered the same sharp disappointment that had hit her when Angel had told her—vampires couldn’t have children, not the normal way.

She met her mother’s eyes, and Joyce’s expression went soft as she put a hand on Buffy’s arm, a gentle gesture of understanding.

Buffy smiled, feeling the sadness fade. She had made her choice, and she still felt that it was worth it.

~~~~~

Spike opened the door for Xander and Anya, ushering them inside. “Thanks for making the pickup for me, Harris.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” he said. “I was in the area.”

“Why would Xander need to pick up the documents? You still have the ring don’t you?” Anya asked.

“I do,” Spike replied patiently, not minding Anya’s questions. She was blunt, and she tended to let you know exactly what she was feeling. He found it refreshing. “But this is the sort of trade that I’d rather not make too often.”

“I’m not going to get into trouble, am I?”

It was the first time that Xander had asked the question, something that Spike appreciated. The truth was that Spike could have easily made the exchange on his own, but the young man had wanted to be involved. Spike didn’t mind giving him a job to do, and Xander had been in the area.

“These are as legitimate as fake papers get,” Spike replied.

“But they’re fake.”

“No one will ever know.”

“Let’s just make sure no one ever does.” Xander glanced around. “Where’s Buffy?”

“Shopping with Dawn and Joyce. Something about Dawn needing clothes.” Spike shrugged. “I was just happy not to have to go along.” He looked from Xander to Anya. “You two got a hot date tonight?”

“Xander promised me orgasms.” Anya was as blunt as ever, and she eyed Xander with an expression that indicated he’d better hop to it if he ever wanted to have fun again.

“I’m supposed to meet up with Buffy for dinner. Not to rush you out of the door, but—”

“We’ve got things to do,” Xander said. “You’ll call if you need anything?”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t precisely a lie; Spike had every intention of calling Xander if he needed a carpenter. He just wasn’t sure when that would be.

Spike headed to the Summers’ residence as soon as Anya and Xander were gone, the sheaf of papers tucked inside a manila envelope. He had experience in creating identities from scratch, although he’d never had to make up a packet for a teenage girl before.

Buffy greeted him with a kiss as soon as he walked in. “Thanks for coming.”

“You okay?” he asked, concerned.

She nodded. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

“I thought you liked shopping.”

“I like shopping for myself.” Buffy handed him his credit card. “And although Mom assures me that I was worse than Dawn, I don’t remember.”

Spike chuckled. “I’d believe it.”

“Spike!”

“Remember how you were when we first met?”

“I apologized for being a bitch, Spike.”

“You did, but I think you get my point.”

Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder. “Are we hunting tonight?”

“Dracula likes young women,” Spike said softly. “So, yeah. I’d say we hunt the bastard down. He likes ritzy places, and he’s good at illusion. It’s going to take some work to find him.”

“What business does he have with you, Spike?”

“We had a run-in not that long after my soul got anchored. There were words exchanged, and I pissed him off some.”

“How badly did you piss him off?”

“I killed his favorite bride,” Spike admitted. “She pissed me off.”

“Oh?”

“She killed a kid.” It wasn’t as though Spike hadn’t done the same. He’d run with the Scourge of Europe for nearly twenty years before he was cursed with his soul, and he’d killed his share of children.

And every single one of them weighed on his soul.

Buffy pulled him close, pressing her lips to his cheek. They had been together long enough now that she knew when he was feeling guilty. “We’ll find him and kill him. It’s what we do.”

Spike just hoped it was that easy.

~~~~~

It was the second night that Quinn had gone searching for Dracula. Sunday night had come and gone with no sign of the famous vampire, although she’d managed to kill a few fledglings.

Now that had been satisfying.

“If I were Dracula, where would I hide?” Quinn murmured.

“Are you looking for me?”

Quinn whirled, so startled that she looked into Dracula’s eyes. “You…”

“Me.” He glided forward. “You were looking for me. How interesting. Can it be that you seek the darkness? There have been others of your kind who have.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Quinn tried to back up but found herself unable to move. “Let me go.”

“But you were the one looking for me.” Dracula ran a finger across her cheek, a slow smile forming on his pale face. “Yes, I think you’ll do.”

Inside, Quinn was screaming, even though she was frozen in place. She had never been so frightened in her life.

~~~~~

Buffy stopped cold. “Spike? Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah, I am. I think we might need help.”

“I think you might be right.” Buffy sized up the castle that had risen from nowhere. “And we’re going to need more firepower, too.”

“I’ll tell Wes.” Spike pulled out his cell phone, while Buffy started around the perimeter. She couldn’t see any guards, which concerned her. She doubted that Dracula’s fake castle was unprotected, and she would feel more comfortable if she knew what those protections were.

She rejoined Spike after a few minutes, after satisfying herself that she’d obtained as much information as she could from the outside. “How long?”

“Ten minutes.” He rocked back on his heels, surveying the castle with a jaundiced eye. “I should have known old Drac would cook up a place like this.”

“Where did he get it?”

“Gypsy magic,” Spike spat. “The wanker is full of tricks and illusions.” He turned to face her, his blue eyes intense. “Don’t look in his eyes, pet. That’s how he pulls folks in.”

“Got it. Don’t look in his eyes.”

The sound of footsteps caused them both to turn. Wesley and Willow were walking towards them briskly, and the ex-Watcher carried a black duffel bag over his shoulder. “I brought weapons.”

“Thanks, Wes.” Spike started digging through the bag as soon as Wesley had set it on the ground. “Willow? You armed?”

“I’ve got my mojo.” Willow held up a stake. “And this.”

“Good enough.” Spike looked at Willow and Wesley. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Buffy. Don’t look in his eyes. He’ll get his hooks into you.”

“Got it,” Willow said. “No looking into Dracula’s eyes.”

“Are we ready?” Wesley asked.

“Let’s go.” Buffy headed towards the castle, wondering if the illusion would hold up once they stepped inside—and wondering what would happen once they killed Dracula.

Surely the illusion wouldn’t hold up once the vampire responsible was dust.