Disclaimer: I don't own them. Don't sue.

Spoilers: I suppose through BtVS S5, but I'm doing some rearranging.

Summary: This is a sequel to "The Great Advantage of Being Alive." If you haven't read it, this one really won't make any sense. In any case, Spike's trying to find out what it means to be a man, and to fight at Buffy's side. Buffy's struggling with what it means to be the Slayer. Dawn wants to know if she's real, and Glory just really wants her Key back.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Archiving: The Sandlot, The Crypt, and anywhere else that already has my stuff.Otherwise, ask and it shall be given to you.

A/N: The title comes from a Pablo Neruda poem. The line actually goes "all the graces of the daybreak" but I liked my pun.
 

Chapter 11: Racing Time
 

"in time of daffodils(who know/the goal of living is to grow)/forgetting why,remember how/ in time of lilacs who proclaim/the aim of waking is to dream,/remember so(forgetting seem)/in time of roses(who amaze/our now and here with paradise)/forgetting if,remember yes/in time of all sweet things beyond/whatever mind may comprehend,/remember seek(forgetting find)/and in a mystery to be/(when time from time shall set us free)/ forgetting me,remember me" ~e.e. cummings
 

Spike didn't get very far. He had just reached the front door when he heard Joyce calling to him. "William? Are you leaving?"

"Uh, was just headin' out," he replied, turning to face her. "Is there something you needed?"

Joyce had an uncertain look in her eyes that Spike had never seen before. "I just wanted to let you know that the doctors want me to go to the hostpital for more tests. I'm going to stay the night tomorrow. I was wondering if you would be willing to help Buffy with Dawn." She looked over at Buffy, who had come to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. "I know you're both busy, but..."

"You don't have to ask," he assured her. "I don't mind a bit, luv."

Joyce gave him a fond smile. "I know. Thanks, William."

He shrugged. "'s not a big deal. Maybe I'll close early tomorrow an' keep Dawn company."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that," she replied, then sighed. "I think we'll probably have to postpone your birthday celebration though. This is when the doctors could fit me in, so I didn't really have a choice."

He shrugged, uncomfortable. "Doesn't matter. I'll still get older."

"And that's worth celebrating," she assured him. Joyce gave him a kiss on the cheek, looking over at her daughter. "Don't stay up too late tonight."

Buffy hadn't known that her mom was going into the hospital for tests overnight. Up till this point, she could imagine that it was going to blow over; she could believe that her mom's illness was an aberration. The sense of having that illusion ripped from her produced an almost-physical sense of pain.

When Spike turned to leave again, Buffy called him back to her. "Spike..."

He paused before turning, having no desire to stay, to feel her retreat from him again. He was tired, too tired to hash this out tonight. What he really wanted to do was to go home and down a couple of drinks to dull the pain. "What?"

"Please."

Spike had never been able to resist a woman's tears, even as a vampire. Well, he hadn't been able to resist the tears of the woman he loved anyway. Dru had bent him to her whim with a whimper and a pleading look, and he found himself in much the same position with Buffy now. "Bloody hell," he muttered, pulling her roughly into his arms.

Her body stiffened and then relaxed, and Spike wondered at his ability to be strong for her. Not that he didn't appreciate the opportunity, but the Slayer's willingness to lean on him was still surprising. "'s goin' to be okay."

"You don't know that," she replied, pulling back, a touch of anger in her tone. His words sounded too much like a promise when the future seemed terribly uncertain.

He gave her a small smile. "'Course I do. It'll be okay because you're strong, an' you can handle anything anybody throws at you."

Buffy shook her head. "Spike—"

"And I'll be right here, luv," he said. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "About earlier. It's just—"

Spike shook his head. "It's fine, Buffy. I know it's hard for you, me havin' been a vampire. It's pretty much opposite everythin' you are, so I can understand you bein' upset."

"No, it's—I just didn't expect..."

Spike released her as she trailed off, turning away. "Buffy, 's not that I'm proud of it really. 's more a matter of rememberin' the moment. It was—" He broke off. There was no way the Slayer could understand that kind of darkness, no matter where her power might come from. "It doesn't matter anymore."

But it did matter, Spike was sure of it. It mattered because he'd been happier at those moments than he'd ever been before, than he might ever be again. The moment of victory had been so sweet, he wasn't sure anything could ever compare.

"I love you," Buffy said, a little desperately, needing to be reassured that this didn't change anything, that it would all be okay.

Spike looked over at her, a little surprised. "I love you too, pet." He sighed. "I should go. You want me to meet you at the hospital tomorrow? An' if you want, I can stay tomorrow night, take Dawn to school in the morning."

"That would be helpful." They shared a brief goodnight kiss, and Buffy could feel the distance that had sprung up between them in the space of a few minutes. It felt like the Grand Canyon.

~~~~~

Spike should probably have headed home after that, but he knew if he did he'd end up drinking alone. There were times he hated the responsibility that sat on his shoulders. Someone had to open the gallery, make sure Dawn was eating something nutritious when Joyce wasn't up to cooking, go over inventory—the list could go on. It wasn't really anybody's fault but his own; he'd taken it all on willingly, and most days it felt good to know he was needed, wanted. Other days he wanted to blow it off, to go back to the days when life was a series of moments strung together on an endless string. Each day the same, each day a little different.

Those were the days when he had looked upon humans with amused condescension and an endless hunger. He missed that sometimes.

He needed to hear that he wasn't crazy, though. That there wasn't still a part of him twisted with evil. The way Buffy had looked at him had done away with all her reassurances of acceptance in one fell swoop. So, he went to the only person who might understand.

Giles greeted him at the door, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. He looked as though he might have already started on a bottle himself. "Spike. Is something wrong?"

He hesitated. "Not really. Can I come in?"

"Of course." The other man stepped aside to allow him entrance, and Spike could see the remains of a glass of brandy on the desk. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yeah, if it's not too much trouble. I hate to drink alone." Spike took the offered glass with a murmured thanks and then savored the first taste. He didn't drink as much as he used to; it was a luxury he could hardly afford, and so he lingered over the flavor.

Giles gave him a knowing look as he settled himself on the couch. "Did Buffy ask you about your history with the Slayers tonight?"

"Yeah." Spike looked rueful. "Didn't go quite as well as she'd hoped, I think." At the other man's expression, he shrugged. "Don't think she wanted to hear what I had to say, an' she didn't much like the way I said it."

"What did you say?"

"She doesn't have a death-wish yet. That's the short version."Spike was quiet for a while. "Is it wrong to remember things we've done that we shouldn't an' think about how good they were?"

Giles considered the question, recalling the conversation he'd had with Buffy when Eyghon had been hunting him. He didn't recall his misspent youth with pleasure, but he could remember the way being possessed had felt. He'd told his Slayer that it was "an extraordinary high."

"I don't believe so," he finally answered. "In some ways it's an acknowledgement of how far we've come to remember how good it was and yet not pursue those activities any longer." Giles gave Spike a long look. "Your remembering frightened her, I suppose."

"Don't know if 'frightened' is the word I'd use," Spike replied. "Think disgusted might better fit the bill. I was all set to leave after that when Joyce stopped me." Concerned for the other man's feelings, he asked, "Did you know—"

Giles raised his glass in explanation. "She told me earlier tonight. I have to be at the store for a while at least tomorrow, but I'm planning on going over later. And Buffy? How is she taking it?"

"'Bout as well as might be expected," Spike replied. "She's worried, of course, but that's her. Anybody would be."

Giles sighed and knocked back his glass. "I'm afraid it won't be much of a birthday for you, Spike. I am sorry about that. Normally, it's Buffy's birthdays that are miserable."

Spike shrugged, dismissing Giles' concerns much as he had Joyce's earlier. "'s better than last year," he pointed out philosophically. "An' it could always get worse."

"I suppose so," Giles agreed. He sighed a little in contentment. Things had been so busy lately that he hadn't had the time he had last year for their friendship. Not that he was neglecting any of his duties, but things were different now, with Spike having his own place and the Magic Box becoming the central meeting location for the Scoobies. The times were rare when they could sit together and have a drink.

"You know," Giles began, entering into Watcher-mode without even thinking about it. "It would be good to hear the accounts of the Slayers you killed. That's information that the Watcher's Council would dearly like to have. It's not something that comes easily."

Spike sighed, resigned to sifting through his past as though on an archaeological dig. Old bones was all it was, things that held little meaning now except for tired old historians. So much of his life seemed to have very little real meaning. Killing the Slayers meant something, on the other hand. "Long as I don't end up some lab rat in an experiment."

"Off the record then, for now," Giles promised. "From the beginning."

Spike looked over at him dubiously. "There's a little more to it than the battle," he warned. "'s about motivations and love too."

"The beginning," Giles insisted. "I want to hear the whole thing."

Spike couldn't help but remember that Buffy hadn't even asked for the whole story. Giles knew that context was everything, however. "Right. Well, you have to know what Angelus an' me were together. It's a bit complicated, but it helps to know."

Giles nodded, leaning back into the couch cushions, ready for the story, ready to get lost in the past. It had always been a reliable escape, and now, when worry pressed down hard, he could use a few moments respite.

~~~~~

Dawn, oddly enough, was wishing she'd gone to school. Joyce had given in almost immediately when her youngest daughter had pleaded for the day off, unable to refuse her anything. In some ways, Joyce felt guilty for being sick. She knew it placed a lot of pressure on both her girls, as well as Spike, and she had a well-honed maternal instinct. She hated having them worry about her.

Joyce was the one who should have been doing the worrying, rather than being worried over.

So Dawn had gotten her wish to stay at the hospital with Buffy, but now she was finding herself bored and unhappy. At school, at least, she would have had other things to think about. All she had to distract her were the dubious qualities of daytime programming and her sister's glum expression. Not that Dawn was feeling all that chipper, but still, you'd think Buffy would make the effort.

"Here." Buffy handed her a soda. "You doing okay?"

She shrugged. "I guess. Is mom going to be alright?"

"I hope so," Buffy said, not wanting to lie or to make promises she couldn't hope to keep. "You sure you want to wait? You could probably go to the Magic Box or hang at the gallery with Spike."

Dawn shook her head stubbornly, in spite of the fact that she'd just been wishing she were elsewhere. "I'll wait until Spike gets here. Maybe then." Frowning, she looked over at her sister. "What's a CAT scan exactly?"

"I don't know," Buffy replied, wishing she better understood what was going on herself. "It's some kind of x-ray I think."

Dawn lifted her eyebrows. "Well, where do they get the CAT from? Did they test it on cats or something?"

"Dawn—" Buffy paused before beginning her lecture, realizing that her sister was probably as worried as she was. She put an arm around the younger girl's shoulders and pulled her close.

There were several more hours of waiting, watching the people pass them, wandering to the lounge to watch ridiculous programming. When Spike finally came in, Dawn gave him a relieved smile and a hard hug.

Spike put his arms around the girl, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "How you doing, Sweet Bit?"

"Okay." Dawn gave him a hesitant smile. "I'm glad you're here."

"I am too," Buffy said quietly.

Spike met her eyes and a little more tension flowed out of him. "Wouldn't be anywhere else." They embraced, Spike's face buried in her hair. "How's she doin'?"

"I don't know. She just came out from the CAT scan. Would you mind staying with Dawn while I go see her?"

"Yeah, sure," Spike replied. He watched her heading off and sat down next to the girl.

Dawn laid her head on Spike's shoulder. "Spike?"

"Yeah, luv?"

"Is mom going to be okay?"

Spike sighed, not wanting to lie to her but wanting to offer comfort all the same. "I hope so, Dawn, but I don't know. We never know 'bout these things."

"What about your mom?" Dawn asked. "What happened to her?"

"She was sick," Spike confessed softly. "An' she wasn't gonna get better."

"Oh." Dawn thought about that for a minute. She wasn't stupid. She'd heard a few stories about Angelus and what he'd done to his family when no one thought she was listening. It wasn't hard to imagine what Spike might have done. "Do you ever wish—" Breaking off, Dawn remembered that Spike was a lot older than he looked and that his mom would have long been dead, no matter what he'd done.

"All the time, Bit," Spike sighed. "You can be as old as dirt, but it doesn't mean you don't love your mum." He glanced up as Buffy came out.

She gave him a wavering smile and pulled him off to one side, speaking quietly. "The doctors said they found some kind of shadow. They're going to do a biopsy, like now. Mom said she wanted to see you beforehand."

Spike nodded, standing. "Right then. Be right back." He wandered into the room where Joyce was waiting in a hospital gown. "Hey, Joyce."

"William." She relished the feel of his strong arms around her in much the same way she'd appreciated her daughter's embrace. In the last year Joyce had come to love Spike like a son. She was consistently impressed by his courage and his heart. Knowing that he would be with both her girls gave her the peace of mind she needed. "I just wanted to wish you happy birthday."

He gave a little laugh. "All I want is for you to be healthy, luv. 'm easy to please."

Joyce smiled at him. "I know I don't have to ask, but you'll look after Dawn, won't you? Buffy needs you too, but Dawn..."

"You know I'll look after both of them," Spike replied. "You're all my girls."

"I'm hardly a girl," Joyce protested.

Spike gave her a look. "Don't forget I was born about a hundred years before you, Joyce." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll see you after."

There was more waiting to be done. Neither Buffy nor Dawn were willing to leave the hospital before the results of the biopsy came back, and Spike wouldn't leave them. He wanted to be there too, also.

Medical technology still amazed him. Sure he'd seen ER and all that. He'd even watched a few of the older medical dramas back when, but having never needed medical services himself, Spike hadn't thought too deeply about what they could accomplish. It hurt to think that his mum would have been easily cured in this day and age. It hurt to think that he was here and she wasn't.

So he amused Dawn by making comments about the people on Jerry Springer and keeping an anxious eye on Buffy. There still seemed to be a bit of distance there, and Spike wondered if it were a gap that could ever be bridged. Could the Slayer ever accept what he had been?

Dawn fell asleep after a while, the adolescent need for sleep overwhelming her defenses. Spike looked over at his Slayer and offered her his hand across the girl's still form. He didn't try to tell her it was going to be okay; he knew by now that she didn't want his reassurances and could barely bring herself to rely on his strength.

It was a fragile strength at best, Spike supposed, when compared to the Slayer's.

"Miss Summers?"

The doctor's appearance had Buffy pulling her hand from Spike's rather abruptly as she stood. "Yes? Is—"

"Your mom is fine," he assured her, moving away from Dawn's sleeping form. Spike, after a moment of hesitation, rose to follow. "They're moving her into recovery now."

"Do we have the results yet?" Buffy asked quickly.

Dr. Isaacs hesitated. "I—why don't we go over here and sit?"

"No!" Buffy's voice was louder than she intended, and she felt Spike's hand on her shoulder, a steadying presence. Without thinking, she leaned back into him. "It's just that I've been sitting all day. I don't really want to sit anymore. Can you—just tell me?"

The doctor looked at the young couple. He hated giving out news like this. "Your mother has a low grade glioma. It's a brain tumor, and it's on the left hemisphere of the cerebrum. In your mother's case, it looks like that's where it started, which means it hasn't spread."

Spike could feel Buffy tremble against him—one tremor before she held herself rigid again. He half-wondered if the strength she was gaining from her intensive training wasn't making her more rigid and thus weaker. She was so sure of her own might she couldn't understand the strength that came from accepting others' help.

"Is there anything we can do?" Spike asked quietly.

Dr. Isaacs shook his head. "Not until we know whether the tumor is operable. I'm afraid that, due to the nature of Joyce's illness, her symptoms may progress rather rapidly."

"Symptoms?" Buffy asked, a touch of alarm in her voice.

"A number of things might present: loss of vision or appetite, loss of muscle control, mood swings, and so forth. Even if we aren't able to go in surgically, your mom still has a real chance, much better than even ten years ago." There was something in the doctor's words that caught both their attention.

"A chance?" Buffy asked, feeling Spike's hands tighten on her shoulders. "What's a chance?"

"Nearly one out of three patients recovers from this condition just fine," Dr. Isaacs assured her confidently. "Now, I have a few questions for you..."

Buffy zoned out, extremely grateful for Spike's competent presence. She could hear him answering all the doctor's questions with ease and knew she didn't have the answers the doctor needed. After a while, Dr. Isaacs disappeared, and the Slayer pulled herself out of her thoughts with new determination.

She wasn't capable of just sitting around and waiting for the doctors to figure out if they could operate on her mom. There had to be another way. She dealt with magic every day, didn't she? Surely there was something she could do—some spell she could use. Anything other than doing nothing.

"We should get Dawn out of here for a bit," Spike said. "The doc seemed to think your mum wouldn't be up for a while now. Might be good to get out of this soddin' place for a few hours."

Buffy nodded. "You go, and take Dawn with you. I don't know—keep her busy."

Spike frowned, giving her a concerned look. "Where are you goin'?"

"I'm going to do something. There has to be a healing spell or something I can use to help Mom." Buffy pulled away from him, looking around for her jacket.

"Buffy, people get sick. I don't think a healin' spell is goin' to help," Spike replied.

She turned to glare at him. "That kind of attitude isn't helping."

"'s not a bloody attitude!" His voice, though low, held the impression of shouting. "'ve been where you are now, luv, an' sometimes there's nothin' you can do but wait. 's the way life is."

"Not my life, Spike," Buffy replied. "Or are you forgetting which one of us is alive through magic?"

"Never," he said, anger coloring his tone. "But, Slayer, 've watched people get sick. 's part of bein' human. Like it or not, there's a real world that you're a part of, an' things like getting sick are natural consequences of life."

Buffy jerked her arm from his grip. "Just take care of Dawn." Her tone made clear that it was all she thought him good for, and Spike pulled back as though he'd been slapped.

Spike watched her go, his jaw tight with anger. Shaking it off, he went to rouse Dawn, a gentle hand brushing back the hair from her face. "Come on, Bit," he said. "What do you say we get out of this place for a while?"

~~~~~

Buffy felt bad about their argument moments after she'd left the hospital, but she was holding onto her anger with both hands. She needed to be angry right now, even if that little voice in the back of her head kept insisting that Spike didn't deserve it. Anger felt better than the fear that was threatening, and so she was going to be mad.

Of course, that meant she was angry and guilty.

It helped that when she arrived at the Magic Box she found something else to distract her. "Wait. How did she manage to get the stuff she needed for a really nasty spell?" Buffy looked around for damage, expecting to see that at least one broken crystal ball.

"Giles sold it to her," Anya finally said after they had all tried to dance around the issue.

The Slayer pushed aside her disappointment over the gang's earlier unanimous discouragement of the healing spell and concentrated on the matter at hand. "Fine. I guess the question now is what is she going to do and how are we going to stop her?"

"We've managed to decipher the symbols on the bloodstone, and it looks as though it will be a cobra." Giles pulled off his glasses and cleaned them on his handkerchief. "We're still working on the rest of it."

Buffy sighed. "Fine. I'll go see what I can do about stopping demon-lady. Spike's got Dawn, so he should be able to keep her out of trouble."

"Buffy, the last time you went up against the demon-chick, you got pretty well beat," Willow pointed out.

The Slayer shrugged. "Last time I wasn't prepared."

"And this time?" Xander asked, giving her a doubtful look.

"This time I will be."

Buffy turned to leave and was stopped by Giles' voice. "Buffy, Joyce—" He stopped, uncertain. While his Slayer was aware that he and Joyce had been seeing one another, Giles wasn't certain that she knew of the depth of their feelings.

"She should be awake later tonight if you want to see her," Buffy said quietly. "I know she'd probably appreciate that."

Giles watched her go and then frowned. "Oh, bloody hell."

"What?" Xander asked as the others watched him in concern.

Giles sighed. "Today's Spike's birthday. It keeps slipping my mind."

Tara and Willow winced in unison. "Looks like Buffy's passed her birthday curse on to him," Willow observed. Tara just looked thoughtful, and made a mental note to visit him later.

~~~~~

"You hungry, Bit?" Spike asked, leading the way into his apartment.

Dawn shook her head. "Not really. Well, maybe a little."

"I'll make us some sandwiches then." He busied himself in the kitchen, trying not to think of his altercation with Buffy. Spike tried to rationalize it, knowing how upset she was about Joyce's illness, how worried she was about Glory and Dawn's safety. It wasn't working.

Spike honestly didn't mind putting up with Buffy's occasional selfishness, or her propensity for leaving him out of things unless she needed him specifically. In all actuality, Spike found most of her quirks—and bad habits—cute. He had, after all, spent over a century with an insane vampire who demanded he cater to her every whim. It was second nature at this point.

But for her to even suggest that he would sit back and let Joyce suffer if there were another way, that was just too much. That she would dismiss him out of hand... Well, Dawn and Joyce were his family, no matter what else might happen.

"Are you and Buffy fighting?" Dawn asked from his couch, where she had spread herself out.

Spike put the finished sandwiches on a couple of plates and handed one to the girl. "Why, pet?"

She shrugged. "It just makes my stomach feel all funny when you guys fight. I mean, you're so good together. It's like—" Dawn broke off, afraid to say it. Spike filled some indefinable function in her life: part older brother, part uncle. He completed her family, at least in her mind. "It's just that it would really suck if something happened."

"Nothing's goin' to happen," he assured her with a smile. "I loved you before I ever loved your sis, yeah?"

"Really?" Dawn stared at him with big eyes. "Spike, what's wrong with mom?"

Buffy hadn't told him not to say anything, so Spike decided to use his best judgment. "Your mum's sick," he said finally. "An' the docs are goin' to do everythin' in their power to make her better."

"What if they can't?"

Spike didn't bother trying to tell her not to think about things like that. Tell a girl like Dawn not to worry her pretty little head about it, and that's just what she would do, thinking things were much worse than they actually were. "You want the truth, Bit?"

Dawn hesitated, realizing that Spike was asking if she wanted to be protected. He was asking her if she wanted to be treated like an adult. Dawn wasn't sure she did, even though she was always protesting that she wasn't a child. "Yeah."

Spike watched as her chin came up bravely. She looked so much like her sister in that moment it made his heart ache. "She's got a brain tumor. The doctors don't know yet if it's operable or not, but if it isn't they can treat it other ways. Got some information on that before we left today."

"And if they can't treat it?" Dawn asked. She wanted him to be able to tell her that she would be taken care of, that he wasn't going anywhere.

Spike didn't want to think about it. He'd already killed his own mother; he had no desire to watch his surrogate mum die. Guilt threatened to swamp him again, but he pushed it back. He had other duties to attend to. Other hearts to try and mend. "I don't know, Sweet Bit, but I'll tell you this much. I'll be dust before I let anythin' happen to you. 'm not goin' anywhere."

Dawn looked at him, as though gauging his sincerity, and then gave him a smile heart-stopping in its sweetness. "I love you, Spike."

"Love you too." He watched as she suddenly rose, heading over to her pack.

"I just remembered I brought your present," Dawn said, glancing back at him over her shoulder as she rummaged around. "Mom has a cake too. I think Giles was supposed to pick it up. Maybe we can still have some later if they let Mom come home tonight."

Spike smiled bemusedly, knowing that Dawn was probably spilling all the secrets behind the surprise party, but it didn't really matter. He'd already spent his birthday in his own way, talking to a priest and confessing to his girlfriend that he still relished some of the memories of being a vampire. Even so, he took the small package with its slightly off-center wrapping showing every ounce of appreciation he felt.

Really, his and Dawn's relationship was refreshingly uncomplicated.

"So you can write," she explained when he'd pulled off the paper and sat staring at his gift. "It's just—I like to journal, you know, and you said you liked to write, so I just thought..." Dawn trailed off, uncertain of his reaction. He looked like he was going to cry.

Spike ran fingers across the soft leather cover of the journal. "Mom gave me the money from doing chores and stuff," Dawn said quietly. "So I paid for it myself."

He raised his head, his eyes meeting hers. "Thanks, luv. It's—it's perfect."

"Really?" Dawn asked, unsure. She wanted to point out that he looked like he was going to cry, but figured that probably wouldn't be the best move.

"Really," Spike said. "Had a journal a bit like this when I was your age, an' older. I always had somethin' to write on with me."

Dawn leaned forward, showing more interest than she had all day. "What were you like when you were my age, Spike?"

He made a face. "I was an utter ponce, pet. You don't want to know."

She thought about some of her interactions with the kids at school and wanted to know more. "But you're cool!"

"There's a hundred years between now an' then, luv." Spike sighed at her eager expression. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this. Besides, maybe he could lose himself for a while in the better memories of his past. "What do you want to know?"

Dawn gave it some serious consideration. Spike was giving her carte blanche with his past, and she wanted to know something good in case she didn't get to ask another question like this. "Tell me about what you were like when you were my age."

Spike sighed. At least he wasn't quite as big of a ponce then as he had been later. He'd yet to make a fool of himself over a woman, anyway. "Right then," he said. He started earlier than Dawn's age, not wanting to remember to the dark time after his sister's death. His thirteenth birthday had been the happiest time he could remember, before his sister's death, his mother's illness, and so he painted a picture of a golden day in his history. One perfect moment that would remain forever unsullied, whatever might have come after.

~~~~~

Buffy had managed to find Glory at the only place in Sunnydale where she was guaranteed to find a cobra: the zoo. Unfortunately, she'd gotten her ass kicked again and the snake demon still managed to rise. Buffy was fairly certain that it wasn't a good thing.

She decided to head back to the hospital to check on her mom (and score some free medical supplies).Buffy wanted to be with her mom when the doctors gave her the news, but she needed to let Giles know that the giant snake was loose. "Giles, it's me," she said, cutting off his standard greeting.

"Buffy? Are you alright?"

"No, I'm really not," she replied, sighing, putting the ice pack on her arm.

"Where are you?"

The concern in his voice came through the line clearly. "I'm at Sunnydale Memorial."

"Are you badly hurt?" Giles demanded. "Do you want me to come?"

"No, I'll be fine," Buffy replied. "It's just—I wanted to let you know that the snake demon is loose. I should really be here when the doctors give mom the news. Have you seen Spike or Dawn?"

"As far as I know they're still out, probably at his apartment," Giles replied. "Do you want me to call him?"

Buffy hesitated. "Yeah, you'd better warn him. Maybe he and Dawn should join you just in case."

"I'll call." Giles listened to the click on the other end of the line and wondered why Buffy wasn't calling Spike herself.

~~~~~

Spike was teaching Dawn the intricacies of Texas Hold 'Em when his cell rang. "Yeah?"

"Spike, Buffy called. Glory's managed to conjure a snake-demon that could be heading your way."

Somehow that news didn't surprise Spike at all. It only made sense that a gigantic demon would be on the loose and after Dawn. It was just par for the course. "Safety in numbers?"

"That's what Buffy and I were thinking," Giles replied. "Do you think you can get Dawn over here?"

"Not a problem, Rupert," he replied. "We'll be right over." Spike hung up the phone and looked over at Dawn. "Get your stuff, Bit. We've got a situation on our hands."

Dawn started shoving her books back in her pack. "Are you going to have to kill something?" she called after Spike. He was rummaging around in his bedroom, and emerged after a few seconds in a worn leather jacket with a big sword in hand.

"If I'm lucky," he replied, a manic gleam in his eyes. "That would make this a good birthday."

Spike didn't actually want to run into a giant snake demon, not when he had Dawn with him. Of course, just because he didn't want to run into a demon, didn't mean it wasn't going to happen. They were still about fifty feet away from the DeSoto when he spotted it coming towards them. "Oh, bloody hell."

Dawn saw the demon, and her eyes widened. Spike watched as the monster flicked its tongue out a few times and seemed to be staring right at Dawn. When it turned around and started heading the other way, Spike knew it was bad news. "Soddin' buggerin'—" He cut off his curses to toss his cell phone and keys at Dawn. "Call Giles! Tell 'im exactly what's happening an' let him know I'm takin' care of it."

"What are you going to do?" Dawn yelled after him.

"Goin' to kill a great bloody snake!"

The running and training he did on a regular basis paid off that night. He lost himself in the movement, the feeling of feet pounding on pavement. When he lost the trail at one point, he stopped, waiting for some sort of direction. If he concentrated, Spike could just catch the musky odor that he'd smelled earlier. After a moment's hesitation, he started chasing the scent.

In spite of the demon's head start, Spike was gaining on it, and he put on another burst of speed. He swung the sword with a battle cry, and the metal bit deeply into scales and flesh.

Not deeply enough, however, because the snake turned on him with a hiss. Spike saw the fangs and started to think he was in over his head.

"Honey, you know you aren't supposed to get started without me."

Spike turned to see the Slayer, who was set on facing the snake with nothing but her bare hands. "Didn't think you'd show, Slayer."

"And miss the chance to kill a great big snake? Are you kidding?" Buffy glanced over at her boyfriend. "Low?"

"If you'll go high, luv."

With twin cries, they attacked, Spike's sword slicing deeply into the belly of the snake. Buffy used the distraction to start punching, and it wasn't long before it stopped moving. Buffy was still punching, and Spike moved to pull her off after a few minutes. "Hey, luv. That's enough."

She didn't respond right away and Spike tugged a little harder, suddenly very tired. "Come on, Buffy-luv. It's dead. We should go see about Dawn."

The Slayer finally got off the snake, gasping a little. "Why did you leave her?"

"Because the giant snake knew what she was, that's why," Spike snapped. "Kind of gave it away when the bloody thing took one look at the Bit and turned tail. Figure it was some sort of bloodhound for mystical Keys."

Buffy sighed, wiping a sleeve over her forehead. "Right. I'm sorry, Spike. I just—"

"How'd you know where I was?" he asked, his tone sober.

She shrugged. "I caught a glimpse of you running when I was headed back towards the Magic Box. I was going to stay until Mom woke up, but I got to thinking and..." Buffy rubbed at her forehead. "I'm really sorry about earlier. You were right, about the spell, it's just—"

"You didn't want to believe it," Spike muttered. "I know, Slayer. I wouldn't want to believe it either, were I you. I love your mum, and you know I'd do anythin' to help."

The tension relieved, she went and put her arms around him. "You do already. You've been making dinner and helping at the gallery and watching Dawn. I honestly don't know what I would do without you. And I know I've been a little bit of a bitch lately—"

"A little bit?" Spike interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I've been exceptionally bitchy. I've just been—"

"Worried," he finished for her. Spike kissed her forehead. "You're not the only one who's worried about Joyce, luv. Giles an' I are concerned too, an' not just for your sake. You forget that you're not the only one in this, Buffy."

"I know," Buffy said quietly, thinking of the other person that was in this as well. "I need to get Dawn and head back to the hospital. Mom will be awake by now, and—"

Spike nodded. "I'll drive you both over, an' wait for you."

"You have an early day tomorrow," Buffy objected. "And you've had a long day today. Giles said he wanted to come over."

Hurt flashed through Spike's eyes. "You're right. I'll drive you over an' you can get a ride home with Rupert then."

Too late Buffy remembered that he was supposed to spend the night. "Spike, I forgot. I promise I'll make it up to you."

He shrugged. "'s nothin', pet. You're a bit sore anyway. Probably better we don't share a bed. Neither of us get much sleep when that happens."

"Spike—"

"We should go." His tone told Buffy that the discussion was over. She'd managed to hurt him again without meaning to, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was a particular talent of hers or if Spike was simply easily bruised.

Buffy somehow thought the blame could be laid at her door.