Chapter 17: Forever

All the Graces of the Dawn

By enigmaticblue <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rating: PG-13

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

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.

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.

"My love, if I die and you don't—,/My love, if you die and I don't—,/let's not give grief an even greater field./No expanse is greater than where we live./Dust in the wheat, sand in the deserts,/time, wandering water, the vague wind/swept us on like sailing seeds./We might not have found one another in time./This meadow where we find ourselves,/O little infinity! we give it back./But Love, this love has not ended:/just as it never had a birth, it has/no death: it is like a long river,/only changing lands, and changing lips." ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XCII

Spike knew as soon as he woke up. As the rush of blood and guilt and the sound of his own heartbeat had let him know he was human, now the absence of all three indicated another fundamental change. It was a rush, as it had been the first time he'd been turned, a feeling of power, of invincibility.

There was nothing and no one that could touch him now. Weakness was a thing of the past. Strength sang in his bones. He nearly laughed with the drunken feel of it.

And then he felt the weight of the manacles around his wrists, and he remembered. Spike suddenly remembered that this time he'd had more to lose than to gain from becoming a vampire again, and oddly enough, he still cared.

A hunger in his belly reminded him of another need, and Spike jerked on the chains with a growl. He was starving. The idea of blood, straight from the jugular, had him salivating in anticipation, even though he knew Buffy would never allow it.

Even though there was no way he could kill and hope to remain in her good graces.

Spike tugged on the chains again, wondering if he was going to be left to himself for much longer. From his surroundings and the smells he judged himself to be in the Slayer's basement. "Oi there! Slayer! You gonna let me starve to death?"

He heard her footsteps on the stairs moments later, and Buffy came into view, carrying a cooler. "Spike."

Her voice was cold, colder than it had been since—since they had come to an understanding. Possibly since he'd been a vampire the first time. Even though Spike wasn't precisely surprised at her reaction to his return to vampirism, hearing Buffy speak in that tone drove home how much had changed in such a short time.

Buffy gave him a tight little smile, and in that expression Spike could see the ravages of grief. "No. Willow and Tara are working on a spell to return your soul. Should be ready in no time."

She was lying. Spike could smell it on her, sense it in the slight increase of her heartbeat. "Haven't quite figured out how to bypass the loophole, huh?" He leaned back against the wall, waiting to see if she would relax around him.

"Not yet," she replied, and he could sense the uncoiling of tension. Spike wasn't sure what Buffy had expected of him, but apparently he wasn't acting quite like she thought he might. "It's just a matter of time, though."

"I still love you, you know," Spike said, almost conversationally. "Told you nothin' was gonna change that, luv."

"A vampire?" Spike asked with a sardonic smile. "An' you think he wasn't? Deep down inside? He still had darkness, pet. So do you." With inhuman grace, Spike surged to his feet. "I could make it so good for you. Take you on a ride like you wouldn't believe. 's like yin and yang now. The man you loved is still here, just stronger, faster—"

"More evil," Buffy replied. Her foot slid the cooler towards him so she didn't have to get too close. "There's blood in there if you're hungry."

"Cold pig's blood isn't gonna satisfy forever," Spike nearly snarled. "That stuff is disgusting."

As she turned, Spike could see his cross dangling from her neck, and he realized he wouldn't be wearing it again. "You promised me forever, Buffy!" he accused. She didn't turn. "Bloody hell! I love you! I won't hurt you!"

"Yeah." She managed a weak smile. "It wasn't too bad. He was in full vamp-mode, though. I don't think he even noticed."

Giles pulled her into his arms for a hug. "Technically, Spike would be a fledgling, Buffy. It takes time to learn control, from what I understand."

"Stubborn?" Giles asked. "Always. But stupid? No, I don't believe so. If there's even a chance—" He broke off, and Buffy knew her Watcher was grieving in his own way. They had all loved Spike—human-Spike, that is.

It was worse than when Angel had become Angelus. That had been bad, but it was nothing compared to watching Drusilla draining Spike, searching frantically for a pulse that couldn't be found, calling Giles to tell him that Spike was dead.

There had been a heated discussion over whether or not to simply make certain that Spike didn't rise, or to wait and see and then make a decision. No one had argued very hard for giving up. Tara had been the only one to point out—quietly—that Spike might not want to be a vampire.

At the time, Buffy hadn't really cared what Spike would want. He had somehow let Drusilla into his apartment, had gotten himself turned again. She was royally pissed off at him. Spike was the man who wasn't supposed to leave, and now he had gone, leaving behind a demon who wore his face.

Dawn had been nearly hysterical when they told her, of course, although Joyce had been more accepting than Buffy would ever have believed. When Buffy had commented on it, her mom had replied that she had liked Spike before he became human, so she didn't see how it could be too bad.

Buffy had replied that having a demon hijack your fiancé's body was about the worst thing ever.

So now Spike-the-Vampire was awake and insisting that he still loved her when everyone knew that vampires couldn't love. And even if they could, he had let Drusilla into his apartment. Surely that meant something. Did he want to leave her so badly?

"Is everyone else here?" Buffy asked, finally pulling away. "We really should figure out what we're going to do with him, and quick. If I know Spike, he's probably working on his great escape as we speak."

Giles nodded, pulling off his glasses and polishing the lenses briskly. "Yes, everyone's here. I'm certain we'll come up with a solution if we put our heads together."

Thirty minutes later, Buffy wasn't so certain. She stood by the fireplace, her arms crossed, in full Slayer-general mode. Joyce and Giles were seated on the couch, their hands surreptitiously entwined. Willow was in the armchair, with Tara at her feet, with Xander and Anya occupying a similar position on the other end of the couch. Dawn had been told to stay in her room, much to her dismay.

Of course, that just meant she was sitting on the stairs where no one could see her.

"Are you sure?" Buffy asked, for the third time. "You're sure you can't change the spell?"

Willow shook her head. "Maybe if I had more time, Buffy, but the spell—it's all about the dark magicks, and because it's a curse... Maybe if there was another way to give a vampire back his soul, but you're doing something against its nature, and against its wishes. That takes a lot of power."

"We both have power," Tara said gently. "But we don't have the kind of skill it takes to take someone's soul and put it back in, not without that particular spell." She hesitated. "Besides, it's not a good spell, Buffy. I think maybe you should talk to Spike. If he was willing, we could maybe work something out."

"He's not going to be willing," Buffy said definitively. "Vampires don't volunteer to get their souls back."

Willow gave her a reassuring smile. "We can still do the spell, Buffy. We just can't get rid of the loophole."

"We don't have an Orb of Thessula," Anya said matter-of-factly. "And those puppies are hard to find right now."

"Yeah, well, word got out that they could be used for re-ensoulment, and every vampire who thought someone might have a grudge started buying up all the ones they could find." Anya shrugged. "They always have one or two on e-Bay. I'll see what I can do."

Anya shook her head. "A few days maybe. It'll probably take that long to find one, and then you have to wait for the bidding to be over. After that, we can get it over-nighted if you're willing to pay for it."

The quiet question came from Xander, who was looking very uncomfortable with all eyes on him. "What are you talking about?" Buffy asked.

"What if Anya can't get the Orb?" he said. "Or what if the spell doesn't work on him? Or what if he gets loose before then and starts munching his way through Sunnydale? I'm not—I'm not suggesting that we stake him now, but..."

Xander sighed. "I'm saying we might have to. Have you thought about what he knows, Buf? Spike knows about Dawn. If he gets loose, or if the spell doesn't work, he could go to Glory."

There was a long silence. Joyce was the one who broke it. "Spike wouldn't do that."

"Spike's an evil vampire," Xander objected. "Sorry, Joyce, but I don't think there's much he wouldn't do at this point."

Joyce shook her head. "Spike might be a vampire, but he wouldn't hurt Dawn or me. He didn't when he was in town that last time, when Drusilla left him."

There was a strained silence as they all looked around uncomfortably at the vampire's name. "That wasn't the last time he was in town, Mom," Buffy corrected her. "He was here right before he got captured by the Initiative, and he was pretty intent on killing me. There's no way I could trust him."

"I think Xander might have a point, though, Buffy," Giles said gently. "If we are unable to return Spike's soul to him, it might be wise to have a back-up plan."

"Couldn't we just make a deal with him?" Willow asked wistfully. "I mean, he did help you stop Angelus. Maybe you could just ask him to leave town."

Buffy hesitated and then shook her head regretfully. "I can't, Will. If Glory wasn't an issue, then it wouldn't be such a big deal, but Xander's right about that much at least. I can't take the risk that he would tell her about Dawn."

"He wouldn't," Tara said. "I still think we should talk to him, Buffy. Maybe you could get his cooperation. Spike's talked about his mom. After he—"

"Spike turned his mom because he loved her." Buffy's voice was flat. "I'm not going to risk that happening with any of us."

"I want to see him." Dawn's voice cut across the room. She stood in the doorway, her pose unconsciously mirroring the Slayer's—arms crossed on her chest, glaring.

Buffy walked over to her sister and took her by the arm. "You're supposed to be in bed, Dawn."

"I don't want to go to bed," Dawn replied sharply. "I want to see Spike. You can't keep me from seeing him, Buffy."

"Go, Dawn." Joyce had come over to join them, and she ran a loving hand down her youngest daughter's hair. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but it's better if you don't see him right now, not until we get things settled."

Dawn's lip trembled. "Please, Buffy. Please. I have to! You don't understand! I—"

"Come on, Dawnie." Tara was there, putting an arm around the younger girls' shoulders. "I'll take her upstairs," she said to Joyce and Buffy. "I don't think I can be of much help down here anyway."

Tara led the girl up to her room and then sat with her on the bed. "Why can't I see him?" Dawn asked rebelliously.

"Buffy doesn't think it's a good idea," Tara said carefully. Personally, she thought that Dawn should probably be allowed to see Spike, if only to get a little more closure, but it wasn't her decision to make. None of these decisions were hers.

The anger drained out of her, and Dawn tried to stifle the resultant sob. "Why, Tara? Why'd Spike have to get hurt like that? It's not fair. I hate this."

"I know, sweetie," Tara murmured in reply, pulling Dawn's head down on her shoulder. Her own tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. She had somehow forgotten how bad new grief felt. "I hate this too."

Spike could hear the murmured voices above him, and he managed to catch snatches of conversation as he drained the bags of blood Buffy had left. Pigs' blood was soddin' awful, and it didn't satisfy, but it was something anyway.

He nipped that thought in the bud, wondering what had changed between now and being a vampire for the first time. It was a relief to be free of the guilt, of course. He couldn't be disappointed to lose that load.

The loss of his guilt was the only positive thing to have come out of getting turned again, as far as Spike could tell. The first time he'd been thrilled at the power, the strength. Spike had adored Dru, and he couldn't wait to show his mother. The idea of being able to offer her what was essentially eternal life had been a major bonus.

But turning his mother had backfired, and Spike knew now that if he were to turn Buffy or Dawn or Joyce or any of the others, they would cease to be the people that he loved. So that was out of the question.

Spike had some doubt as to his ability to control himself. Even if Buffy decided to take a chance on him—which seemed highly unlikely—what was to say he wouldn't eventually get tired of a diet of pigs' blood?

While he might have a number of sterling qualities, Spike couldn't kid himself that self-control was one of them.

If the Slayer did take a chance on him, who was to say he wouldn't let her down, make her stake him one of these days?

No, the first time he'd died, Spike hadn't had much to lose. If he were honest, anything would have been an improvement, especially when compared to the pathetic git William had been. This time, however...

Spike sucked on another blood bag thoughtfully as he listened to them debate giving him his soul. Seemed like they couldn't remove the happiness clause.

Snorting, Spike tossed the now-empty bag to one side. He wasn't Angelus. Spike knew himself well enough to understand that it wouldn't take a quick roll in the hay with Buffy to make him lose his soul. There had been moments with Joyce, with Dawn, even with Tara where Spike would have described himself as being perfectly happy.

Even so, with that little curse in place, Buffy would distance herself from him, and they certainly wouldn't be shagging anytime soon. Spike knew he would most likely lose the others' acceptance as well, with the possible exception of Tara.

He caught a bit of Dawn's interruption, knew she wanted to see him. They wouldn't let her come down, of course. Couldn't risk it. Like he'd hurt one hair on his Niblet's head. Spike had loved her long before he'd become human.

It was different now, though. Everything was different. And it hadn't changed for the better.

Spike listened as the voices upstairs faded, the number of heartbeats he could sense decreasing. They were all going home, going to research ways to leash the demon. He barked his laughter. It was ridiculous. Hadn't they learned anything at all from Angel? Demons couldn't be leashed. They could only be harnessed.

All the sounds in the house quieted. If he wasn't a vampire, Spike wouldn't have been able to hear the heartbeats. Two were slow.

For a half second, Spike thought it might be Buffy, come to visit. Perhaps she wanted to get a feel for the vampire that had replaced her human boyfriend. The scent that reached his nose as the visitor descended wasn't the Slayer's however.

Belatedly, Spike realized his face was still the demon's. It took a moment to remember how to change back, but his features smoothed out, the ridges and fangs disappearing. "Better?"

"It really happened, luv." His tone was gentle, soft as a summer's breeze, much like the one he'd used on Drusilla when she took a fit. "'m sorry."

Spike laughed, though there was little humor in the sound. "What else is new? Your sis's always pissed off at me for something or other. What about you?"

"Did you really let that vampire turn you?" Dawn asked, betrayal coloring her voice. "Did you want—"

Spike shook his head. "Never wanted this, luv. Not sure I exactly want it now. She—Thought she was your sister when I invited her in, an' then..." He trailed off, remembering. "Couldn't stop her."

The girl took another couple steps forward, and now she was almost within reach. The demon inside was desperate for firm ripe flesh only inches away, for sweet blood that ran hot. Spike could see the pulse throbbing in her throat, and he scented both her fear and her fascination.

He wanted to drain her dry, and the desire frightened him as nothing else did. As nothing else could.

"Better not come any closer, Bit," Spike said regretfully. "Don't want to hurt you."

"You wouldn't hurt me," Dawn declared boldly, but she stopped just out of arms' reach.

Spike smiled at her brass. He'd always loved that about her. "No, but I haven't had a real meal yet, an' I don't want to risk it."

She sat down on the floor cross-legged in front of him. "So, do you feel all evil now?"

Spike considered the question. "A bit. The hunger's there." That was an understatement. "You know what Buffy decided to do?"

"They're going to do the soul-restoration spell as soon as Anya can get all the ingredients," Dawn said.

She shrugged. "They're still going to do it, even if Tara and Willow can't figure it out before then. Buffy said she can't afford to wait."

Spike didn't like that idea much, mostly because of the curse. He would be on the outside but good then, able to look but not to touch. It was the worst form of torture he could imagine. "What if I agreed to leave town?" he suggested, trying to think of another solution. Spike had heard of places a bloke could go to get wishes fulfilled. Maybe there would be another way, either to get the soul back or get himself back to the way things were. Possibly even go back in time, fix things so he never let Drusilla in.

Dawn shook her head. "Buffy said maybe, if it wasn't for Glory. Everybody's scared that you're going to give us away."

"I'd never!" Spike said indignantly. "If I wanted to kill Buffy that badly, I'd come after her myself."

There was a long silence. "It's not going to get better, is it?" Dawn asked. "I mean, nothing we do is going to make this okay."

Spike could think of a couple things. If he could escape and then lie low for a while, work his way back into the Slayer's good graces, convince her that she could trust him. Either that, or he could leave town, find another way to get his soul.

The latter choice had one major flaw: he'd be leaving both Dawn and Buffy unprotected against Glory. As a vampire, he was in an even better position to protect the Slayer and the Key, but he wouldn't be allowed.

Solution number one also had a major—and probably insurmountable—flaw: Angelus. There was no way that Buffy would ever believe that an unsouled vampire could be good, could help her—could love her. Not after the Great Poof had done such a magnificent job convincing her otherwise.

Instead, there Spike would be, souled or not, just another burden. He would be one more thing that the Slayer had to worry about. In the end, there would be tears and drama and hurt on both sides, and it would end with Buffy asking him to leave.

Or staking him. While Spike was still absolutely certain of his love for her, he was uncertain of his self-control. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't snap the neck of the first wanker who pissed him off. That he wouldn't get so hungry he didn't catch a quick snack on the way home.

And there was one thing that Spike would not do in any incarnation—he didn't hurt the girl.

"Yeah?" Dawn had watched him think, and she wondered what kind of decision he'd come to, but he looked peaceful, if determined.

"You think you could get the keys to these things?" Spike asked, rattling the manacles.

Spike smiled, and it was the saddest expression Dawn had ever seen on his face. "She won't know. She'll think I escaped. 's why she wanted to do the soul-spell so quick, yeah?"

Dawn still hesitated. "'m not goin' to hurt anyone," he promised fervently. "But this is somethin' I ought to do myself, Bit. The curse is no good. I'll just end up losin' the bloody soul the first time I have a good moment. Your sister'll probably end up askin' me to leave. 's my right to do this my way."

It was, of that Dawn was certain. Spike had a right to determine his own future, to a certain extent. Of course, if he started munching on people, she would never forgive herself for unlocking him. "You swear?"

Dawn believed him, oddly enough. She thought there was an excellent chance that Spike would do exactly that. He would take care of things. Dawn decided that she didn't want to ask how he'd manage it. "Be right back."

Dawn had seen where Buffy had stashed the keys, unbeknownst to her sister. They were actually in a kitchen drawer, rather than underneath her pillow, which is where she would have kept them.

The littler Summers guessed that Buffy didn't think anyone would try and let him go, and if Spike made it to the kitchen, it was pretty much all over anyway.

"Do me a favor, Bit," Spike instructed. "When you go back upstairs, leave a bit of paper an' pen for me, yeah? Want to let your sis know what's goin' on. Then scamper on back to bed an' stay there. I want you safely tucked away."

Dawn stared at him wide-eyed, realizing that Spike was asking her to take those precautions for his sake, as well as her own. "Spike—"

"Ask me no questions an' I'll tell you no lies, Dawn," he said softly. "Just know it's better this way. Better that the Slayer can focus on takin' care of you an' Joyce an' the others. 'm not worth worryin' over."

Dawn blinked back sudden tears, somehow knowing that this would be the last time she'd see him. Biting back a sob, she hurled herself into Spike's arms, wrapping her arms around his neck in a death-grip. Spike awkwardly returned her embrace, breathing her scent in deeply, already feeling the ache of missing her. "I love you," she whispered fiercely, letting go and dashing upstairs.

Spike looked down to the floor next to him, where she'd dropped the keys. He waited until he could hear the faint echo of footsteps heading up the second flight of stairs before unlocking himself.

On the kitchen counter, he found the paper and pen he'd asked Dawn to leave out for him, and Spike began to compose a love letter.

Buffy found sleep to be elusive. There was a vampire in her basement who wore the face of her lover, and all she could hear were his words, "You promised me forever, Buffy...I love you."

What she hadn't told anyone was that a piece of her believed him. The Slayer had seen Spike's eyes years ago when she'd threatened Drusilla's life—he'd been terrified to lose her. Buffy couldn't quite buy that Spike didn't love, even as a vampire.

She was still attracted to him; Buffy still wanted him, even as a vampire. In fact, the danger made her tingle in a new way that was absolutely delicious. In the darkest recesses of her mind, Buffy could admit that the thought of going downstairs and having her way with him, while Spike was still chained up, was tantalizing.

Spike-the-vampire had promised her a ride like no other—and that she could believe.

If it wasn't for Glory, Buffy might have taken the chance. She might have told him to leave town and then have been surprised when he didn't. They could have fought and made love and in time he would either have convinced her that he could change—or she would have to stake him.

With Dawn as the Key, and Spike privy to the knowledge, the risk was an impossible one. Besides, there was her mother and Giles and the others to think about. Knowing that Spike had turned his mother didn't make her feel any better. Who was to say that he'd learned his lesson?

Buffy sighed and tossed the blankets off of her. Her hand brushed the cross she'd placed around her own neck, and she made a fist around it briefly. She had promised him forever, and now it seemed as though their time was up. It wasn't fair.

Padding downstairs, Buffy went to the fridge to find something to eat, only to have a folded piece of paper on the counter catch her eye. With a sense of foreboding, Buffy recognized the elegant handwriting inscribing her name. She opened the paper and read:

Whatever you might think, I never wanted this. I wanted to be with you, with your mom and sister, to get married. The first time I was turned, I had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Now, I've lost everything. I think Dru thought she was helping, but in reality she killed me as surely as if she'd just drained me dry.

It's not fair for you to have to make this decision, love. And it's not your right, it's mine. I've had my choices stolen enough for now. This time, I'm going to make the decision as to my future. If you gave me my soul back, the outcome would be the same, sooner or later. You'd have to stake me, or you'd end up telling me to leave, and that would surely dust me. Better to end this now.

Hope I'll see you on the other side, love. Maybe God will look favorably on a poor monster.

Buffy dropped the note on the counter, putting a hand to her mouth. Thinking furiously, she tried to figure out where Spike would go.

Buffy came to a skidding halt just inside the clearing. The sun was only just beginning to lighten the sky, but it was enough to see him. Spike was standing by the gravesite he'd pointed out to her, hands in his pockets and facing east.

He finally turned, his face grave in the gray light. "'s no good, luv. Could you ever love me as I am now?"

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, and then shut it again as quickly. She could not bear to do without him, and she couldn't take the risk of trusting him. It was a no win scenario to which she could see no solution. "'s better this way," he said gently.

"We can do the soul spell, Spike," Buffy pleaded. "We'll figure out a way to anchor it. It'll just take some time."

"An' if you can't, luv?" The vampire shook his head. "'m tired of this, Buffy. Tired of other people runnin' my life for me, makin' my decisions. I want to be my own man again. I don't want to lose you, not by inches. Can't bear to watch you slippin' away from me, luv."

"We can try," Buffy said desperately. "We can try, and I'll help. Even if you never have a soul, or if you lose it. You can promise to leave before you hurt me, and—"

"An' my bein' undead isn't hurt enough?" Spike asked incredulously. "We'll kill each other slowly, instead of quick-like. 'd rather have a down an' dirty fight with you right now, Slayer, except I don't much want to win. 've finally found my death-wish, Buffy. This way, you can grieve me an' move on."

Buffy stared at him. "What if I don't want to move on, Spike?" she demanded. "What if you're the only man I'll ever love?"

"That's not the way life works, Slayer," he replied. "You'll fall in love again eventually. Maybe this way, since 'm tryin' to take a demon out of the world, I could wait for you." Spike smiled, and the first rays of the morning sun lit him up from behind, forming a halo effect. "If I have my way, luv, I'll wait for you forever."

This time there was no miracle, no last minute save from the Powers That Be. This time the sun rose right on time, warming the chill morning air.