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 18: Miracles

"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,/or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off./I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,/in secret, between the shadow and the soul...I love you without knowing how, or when or from where./I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;/so I love you because I know no other way/than this: where I does not exist, nor you,/so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,/so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep." ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII
 

That was not the first time Buffy had had that particular dream. She had found that in 48 hours it was possible to dream and to imagine a myriad of possibilities, both good and bad. The Slayer couldn't help but wonder if the dream wasn't more a glimpse at a possible future than her own fears, particularly because the doctors kept murmuring words like "miracle" and "impossible." The first they had used to her face, the second had been in muttered whispers when they thought she wasn't listening.

There had been those first few seconds in Spike's apartment when she had scrambled to find a pulse, and for one brief, impossible moment thought there was none. And there, under her fingers, was a thready beat that frightened her even more for its weakness.

It seemed entirely possible that Spike would die in her arms in the long wait for the ambulance.

The paramedics had arrived and stabilized him, however, and that was when they started exchanging glances they didn't think Buffy caught. She understood all too well, though. Spike should have been dead or turned, and he wasn't.

Of course, the why-question came to mind, but Buffy didn't care to explore it in depth. Gift horse, mouth much?

The thought of having to live without him ran through her mind like a constant mantra. That, and all the things she'd done to Spike, said to him, over the course of their relationship. Regrets that she would carry to her dying day.

There was the objective part of Buffy that knew she could live without Spike. Not well, perhaps, and it wouldn't be fun, but it was doable. The other part of her heart, the part that remembered so well what it had been like to lose Angel, and recognized this love as the deeper, more mature one, knew that losing Spike could kill her.

Or make her more careless with her own life. Which, as the Slayer, was about the same thing.

Buffy remembered asking Spike how he had killed those two Slayers, and his take on what made her different. He had not included himself on the list of people who tied her to life, and yet he was her anchor. Losing him would set her adrift.

It was, in short, a reminder. A reminder that Spike was right, that life was short, that people are lost all too easily, and you can't squander what time you do have.

It was also a reminder that she loved him as much as life.

Buffy hitched her chair just a little closer to Spike's bed and took his hand, trying to rub some warmth back into it. The doctors had been whispering "miracle," but Buffy had seen the looks on their faces as more time passed and he didn't wake.

"Come on, Spike," she whispered. "You've got to wake up for me. You really think I can do this without you? You got this far—"

She might have gone on talking to him until she fell back asleep or he woke up, but a cautious knock on the door interrupted her. "Come in," she called, her hand automatically reaching for the stake she had at her back.

An older man, older than Giles, poked his head in, and then entered. Buffy was a little surprised to see him wearing a clerical collar, and she suddenly wondered if he knew something she didn't know. Did random clergy come to give last rites to just anyone?

"You must be Buffy," the man said, smiling warmly. "I'm Father Michael. I don't know if William told you about me or not."

He was wearing a cross, so he was obviously not a vampire. Buffy shook the hand he offered her. "I don't think so. Did—I mean, do you—"

"I heard about the attack, and I wanted to come see your fiancé," Michael explained, glancing at the ring on her left hand. "I promise, I don't know any more than you do, and probably less."

"Oh, okay," Buffy said, moving slightly away from the bed so that the minister could approach. The man laid a hand on Spike's forehead, as though checking for a temperature.

Conversationally, he said, "You know, I've grown quite fond of William over the past couple months. He has a good heart and a sharp mind." Michael smiled. "But I'm sure you know that by now."

"I'm finding more out every day," Buffy replied. "How—how did you meet?"

"William came into my church and asked me to pray for your mother, I believe it was. We began talking, and have continued our discussions. I find myself fascinated by him, and by his past."

"You know?"

Michael smiled at her startled tone. "It came out. I heard he'd been injured, and I was honestly thankful to hear he was in the hospital, rather than having him come to my door in the middle of the night."

"Yeah," Buffy said softly. "That would be bad."

"Do you mind if I pray for him?" he asked.

She hesitated. "I—if you want. I mean, I don't know that I believe—"

"That's the beauty of praying for someone else," Michael replied, giving her a calm smile. "It does not rely upon the other person's participation."

Buffy finally nodded. "Sure. I mean, it can't hurt, right?" She paused at the door, having no idea what one did while another prayed, and finding it easier to be out of the room. "The doctors keep saying that it's even a miracle he's alive."

Michael smiled. "Then I will choose to believe that William will make a full recovery, as I have never seen half a miracle."

Buffy nodded, and then ducked outside, leaning heavily against the wall. The clock indicated that her mom and Giles would be there in just a few hours to relieve her. She hadn't left since they'd brought Spike in, and while Joyce had urged her to go home and rest for a while, Buffy hadn't wanted to leave him. She had, however, promised that she would allow them to relieve her later in the day.

Father Michael emerged from the room in less time than she'd thought it would take. "I'll be keeping William in my prayers, Buffy."

The only possible reply to that was "Thank you," although she had no idea of its efficacy. Then, she went back in to wait.

~~~~~

Spike woke slowly, becoming aware of a voice speaking to him. For a moment he considered retreating back into darkness, but something in her words caught at him. "Spike? You gonna wake up for me?"

When he finally managed to open his eyes, Buffy's face was hovering at his side, a bit fuzzy. "Hey there. How are you feeling?"

Spike had the sense that it was a loaded question. "Bit thirsty," he managed.

"Oh, right," Buffy's face disappeared and then reappeared in moments, holding a glass with a straw to his mouth. Spike sucked greedily. "Easy," she warned him after he'd consumed half the glass, pulling it away. "Do you remember what happened?"

Spike frowned. He was obviously in the hospital. They had been there enough in the past months with Joyce for him to recognize the décor (or lack thereof) right off. Had he been ill? Perhaps, but he'd taken all his medicine as per the doctor's instructions. No, that didn't feel right. The last thing he remembered was coming back to his apartment. He and Buffy were supposed to go out on patrol together. There had been a knock on the door—

"Dru," he said, finally remembering. "What happened?"

Buffy gave him a serious look. "That's what I was going to ask you," she replied. "I got there, Drusilla was draining you, and I staked her. I was hoping you could fill in the backstory."

Spike hesitated, trying to recall. It was all a bit hazy, really. "Uh, was waiting for you for patrol. Somebody knocked on the door—" Now it was coming back to him, and Spike found himself flushing at his own stupidity. "An' I told 'em to come in. Thought it was you."

Buffy frowned at him. "That was stupid. You nearly got yourself killed."

Spike winced. "'m sorry, pet. I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't," Buffy replied sharply. "You're just lucky I got there when I did. From what the doctors said, I should be calling you Miracle-Boy."

"Buffy, I'm sorry." Spike could see the ravages of worry on her face, and he felt a pang of guilt. The Slayer had enough to worry about without him doing something stupid, like accidentally allowing Drusilla into his apartment. He watched as anger warred with relief in her eyes, and she finally allowed relief to win.

"If you ever do something that stupid again, I will kill you myself," Buffy warned him. "I almost lost you."

"I'm sorry, luv," Spike repeated helplessly. He felt like a stupid git. How many times had they warned Dawn about inviting people in without knowing who was at the door? It was an elementary mistake, one he should not have made.

"Oh, God, Spike, I almost lost you," Buffy said, laying her head on his chest.

Spike brought his arm around to embrace her as best he could with the IV line in the back of his hand. "Buffy, luv, it's okay. Made it, didn't I?"

She sat up, wiping her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. "Yeah. You did. I love you," Buffy said fiercely. "Have I told you enough?"

"Don't mind hearin' it again," Spike replied softly. "I love you, too."

They clung to each other until the nurse came in and medical personnel began to swarm around the now-conscious patient.

Buffy couldn't take her eyes off him.

~~~~~

"Hey, Mom?" Dawn called. "Can I get a soda?"

"Sure, sweetie," Joyce replied. She began digging in her purse for her change wallet, but Giles beat her to the punch, pulling a few quarters out of his pocket.

Dawn gave him a bright smile in thanks and went to the soda machine that had proven so distracting. "Come right to Spike's room, Dawn," Giles warned. "You remember which number?"

The girl rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, I remember. And I'll be careful," she called, knowing that would be the next command. Seriously. It was like everybody thought she was two.

It was a relief, though—knowing that Spike would be okay. When Buffy had called from the hospital to tell them he was awake, she had thought that her mom was going to start crying from sheer joy. Giles had broken out in relieved laughter, and Dawn had finally felt like she could smile.

For a while there, Dawn had wondered if she would ever want to smile again.

Spike was going to be okay, though, and the entire world seemed like a better place suddenly. Like it was somewhere Dawn actually cared to live.

Dawn fumbled one of the quarters, and she bent to pick it up from where she'd dropped it. As she stood up again, she found herself face to face with a tall, thin man in a hospital gown. He was jabbering at her, repeating "I've found it. Thank you. Thank you. I found it. I found it."

She found herself backed right up against the soda machine, the crazy guy continuing to advance on her. "Okay, it's time to go back." Dawn recognized the intern who came to her rescue immediately as Ben, the guy that had been around when her mom had been sick. He gave her a look of surprised recognition. "Dawn, right? What are you doing here?"

Dawn watched as he pulled the patient back, staring in fascination at the tattoo on his forehead. "Uh, Spike got hurt. I was just getting a soda before I went to see him."

"That's your sister's fiance, right?" Ben asked. "Is he okay?"

Dawn nodded quickly, scooting out from under the watchful eyes of the crazy, hoping that he didn't start screaming about the Key in the middle of the hallway. Soda seemed like a very bad idea all of a sudden. "Yeah, he's okay now."

Ben frowned, the repetition finally catching his attention. "I found it. Thank you. I found it." Dawn backed away from the recognition she saw in the intern's eyes.

"I gotta go."

Ben nodded. "Yeah. Look, stick close to your sister, okay?" he called.

"Sure."

Dawn took to her heels, walking quickly down the hall, finding herself really wigged. She nearly ran into Giles and Buffy where they were standing in the hallway, talking. Buffy looked happy. Really happy. Which faded as soon as she caught sight of her little sister.

"Dawn? Are you okay?"

Dawn figured she probably looked as freaked out as she felt. "I'm fine. I just ran into this crazy guy, and—" She stopped, seeing the look on Buffy's face, and feeling like a jerk for ruining Buffy's happy moment.

Buffy could see Dawn deflate, and she quickly reached out to give her sister a hug. "It's not your fault, Dawnie. Was anyone else there?"

"Ben, the intern," Dawn said. "I think it's okay. I mean, I don't think anybody knows. The crazy guy just kept saying, 'I found it' over and over."

Buffy didn't feel reassured. "Did you notice anything else, Dawn?" Giles asked. "Did anything stand out to you?" The Watcher was thinking of possible responses they might make, clues they might get to Glory.

"He had a tattoo on his forehead," Dawn said helpfully.

The information was helpful, but not comforting. "He has to be one of those knight-guys, Giles," Buffy said. "What if they find out?"

"If he's here in the hospital, he can hardly pass along that information to anyone," Giles replied. "Still, I think it best we get Dawn home."

Dawn looked from one to the other. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Buffy took one look at her sister's face and knew that explanation would never work. "Fine, the guy that saw you belongs to some organization that isn't real happy about the Key. It doesn't matter because he's crazy, and no one is going to find out what he knows." She sighed. "Still, I think it's a good idea if we get you home. There's no sense in you hanging around here where someone else might recognize how special you are."

The last comment was said with a patented big-sister smile that indicated "special" was not something you should aspire to. And yet, Dawn couldn't take offense, since Buffy was hugging her in the next minute. "I needed to get some sleep anyway."

"Can I still see him?" Dawn asked.

"Sure." Buffy glanced over at Giles. "Do you mind giving us a ride home?"

Her Watcher shook his head. "Not at all. I'm sure Joyce doesn't mind staying with Spike."

Dawn took that as her cue to go in to see Spike. He was sleeping, but there weren't a lot of machines attached. Besides being in a hospital bed—and looking a lot paler than normal—he looked like his usual self. She heard Buffy call her mom from the doorway, and Dawn sidled closer to the bed, wondering if she could touch him.

She found that she needed Spike's reassurance—both that he was okay, and that he would take care of her.

As she took his hand, Spike's eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at her. "Hey, Bit. What are you doin' here?"

"I came to see you," she replied. Now Buffy was calling her from the doorway. "Just a minute," Dawn called over her shoulder, turning back to Spike. "Are you really going to be okay?"

"Right as rain in no time, luv," Spike promised her, sensing that Dawn was scared, and not for him. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Dawn replied. Buffy was calling her more insistently now, and she bent to give him a peck on the cheek. "I gotta go."

Spike watched her dash out of the room, and he rummaged for the controls to the bed. The doctor had been pleased at his progress, but they still wanted to keep him overnight for more observation. The worry in Dawn's voice told him that he didn't want to spend any more time here than absolutely necessary, and leaving suddenly seemed a necessity.

"What do you think you're doing?" Joyce asked as she came back into the room.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "'m leavin'. Something's up."

"Something that you really won't be able to anything about," Joyce replied, settling in next to his bedside. "Buffy told me the doctors wanted to keep you another night." Spike regarded the IV in his hand, thinking about pulling it out. "Don't even think about it," Joyce warned him.

"I'm not stayin' here," Spike said adamantly. With his touseled hair and pale skin, he didn't look very imposing, but there was a glint in his eyes that told Joyce it was fruitless to argue.

Joyce sighed. "We'll talk to the doctor. If he agrees, we'll get Rupert to come back and pick us up."

Somehow it didn't surprise her when Spike was released, although he ended up going home with her. His pleased expression seemed to indicate that's what he'd been after all along.

~~~~~

Amid the doctor's parting instructions had been a firm injunction against strenuous activity and the order to drink plenty of fluids. Even if the doctors weren't entirely happy to see him go, Spike was feeling pretty good. A little light-headed maybe, and his neck stung if he moved too quickly, but he felt good.

In fact, Spike had the feeling that the doctors didn't want to see him go just because they didn't like their little miracle walking away. They wanted to know what had kept him alive, what made him different.

Spike didn't particularly care; he was just happy to be breathing.

Joyce sent him upstairs as soon as they got back to the Summers' residence, and Spike curled up next to Buffy on her bed. She squirmed once, moaning a little in her sleep, but she soon stilled and lay quiet next to him.

Though he hadn't thought himself tired, not after sleeping for two days, Spike quickly drifted off.

When he woke again, they had shifted positions so that Buffy's head was on his shoulder, her arm thrown across his waist. "Hey."

"Hey there," he greeted her, letting out a contented sigh as she cuddled up next to him. "Missed you."

"Missed you more," Buffy replied. "I kept having this dream while I waited for you to wake up, you know." Spike was quiet, waiting for her to continue. "It was like the Slayer-dream I had before Drusilla showed up. You had gotten turned, and then you dusted yourself because you thought I didn't love you anymore."

Spike's arms tightened around her. "'m so sorry, luv," he murmured. "I never wanted to worry you like that. You've got enough on your plate—"

"That's not the scary part of the dream, actually," Buffy said, as though he hadn't said anything. "The scary thing was that you loved me even as a vampire, and I didn't believe it until it was too late."

Spike let out a breath. "Wouldn't have blamed you, Buffy. Not with Peaches, an' all. But you're right. I would love you even if I were dead."

"I get that now."

They lay silently for a while, until Spike said tentatively, "You killed Dru?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

He swallowed. From Buffy's tone, Spike sensed that she really was. That in spite of everything she had some understanding of what it meant to him that Drusilla was dead. The crazy vampiress had, after all, been his dark princess for over a hundred years. "'s okay. Last tie, I s'pose."

"What about Angel?"

"Angel doesn't count," Spike replied, though there was humor in his tone.

Buffy smacked him gently on the chest. "Be nice." She sat up suddenly. "Oh! I have something for you. I almost forgot." She sprung up from the bed, and Spike missed her presence immediately. "Here you go."

He recognized the sheet of paper immediately, even though he'd forgotten its existence in the midst of all the trauma. "Did you read it?"

"Yeah," Buffy said. "I'm really sorry, Spike. I found it while the paramedics were loading you up, and I just grabbed it without even thinking. And then, later, I glanced at it."

Spike pushed himself into a sitting position, taking the paper from her with a shaky hand. "Then you know what it says."

"And I just want you to know that no matter what, I love you, and I think it's beautiful."

Spike thought he'd prepared himself for disappointment, but he had to choke back the lump in his throat. It was fine—it didn't matter if he'd gotten a rejection notice. After all, he'd just nearly been turned, and he was alive, Buffy had agreed to marry him—it really didn't matter.

He unfolded the sheet and read silently, casting a betrayed look at the Slayer once he'd gotten past the first sentence. "You made me think—"

Buffy was grinning at him. "Fooled you. You should have seen your face, Spike."

"You—" Spike was staring at the words, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. There, in plain English, was the notice that his manuscript had been accepted for publication, and wouldn't he please have his agent call to set up a meeting?

"I'm sorry, Spike," Buffy said, realizing how freaked he'd become. "I just—you really should have seen your face."

"They're takin' it," he whispered.

"Well, they should," Buffy said with a wide smile. "It's good."

"They're goin' to pay me for it."

"And again with the duh."

"Buffy, I—"

She wasn't certain that it was the best technique for getting Spike's brain jump-started, but she met his lips with hers anyway. Spike getting published seemed like something worthy of being celebrated with a kiss. When Buffy finally pulled back, they were both breathless, and Spike suddenly let out a whoop of joy.

They both discovered that Spike was perfectly capable of strenuous exercise, nevermind the doctor's orders.

~~~~~

Joyce heard the commotion upstairs, although she was unperturbed. They sounded happy enough, and after the stress of the past few days, she wasn't going to complain about a little noise—even if she had a very good idea about what was causing it.

Dawn dashed into the kitchen moments later, frowning. "Mom! Buffy and Spike—"

"Why don't you try this sauce, sweetie?" Joyce asked complacently, holding out a spoon.

Dawn looked outraged. "They're going to scar me for life!"

"I doubt it," Joyce replied. "Besides, if I know Spike, he'll be down in about fifteen minutes once he smells dinner. Works like a charm every time."

"Less than that," Spike said from the doorway. "Sorry if we disturbed you, Bit."

Buffy bit her tongue, wanting to point out that it was Dawn who had disturbed them, by banging on the door. "Spike has news."

"So I gathered," Joyce said, watching in amusement as Spike blushed slightly. She took the letter he held out and broke into a bright smile. "William! This is wonderful! This definitely calls for celebration."

It was a bit of luck that Joyce had decided to do spaghetti, which was easily altered in order to feed a crowd. Buffy called the rest of the gang, letting them know that her mom was making dinner and that Spike was feeling up to visitors after all. When Giles arrived with the champagne Joyce had sent him off for, the party was complete.

The sense of relief was nearly tangible.

~~~~~

"I knew you'd get an offer," Tara said later, resting her hand on Spike's arm. Willow and Buffy were talking animatedly, and Anya was obviously trying to convince Xander that it was past time for her nightly orgasm. Dawn sat next to Spike on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder. The girl could hardly be persuaded to leave his side.

"'s nice to know you have faith in me, ducks, but I wasn't nearly so sure." Spike chuckled, the grin he'd been sporting all evening not dimming one whit. "A bit unbelievable, innit? Me, a published author."

"You gonna autograph a copy for me, Spike?" Dawn asked, looking up at him. "It would be really cool to show everybody at school."

Spike gave her shoulders a squeeze. "For you? Anything. Still not goin' to quit my day job, though. One book does not an author make."

"I thought you said they wanted to negotiate for another manuscript," Tara replied, smiling at his blush and stammer. "And that you'd already started one."

Spike had, but that wasn't something he'd shared with anyone, even Tara. "How—"

"Woman's intuition," Tara replied mysteriously. "I know how much you love writing, Spike. It only makes sense that you'd have started something else right away."

Dawn tugged on his arm. "Can I read your book, Spike? You let Tara and Buffy read it."

Spike frowned, trying to remember if there was anything in there unsuitable for young readers. "Uh..."

"I'm sure Dawn's mature enough," Tara said.

"Of course I am!" Dawn insisted. "I'm mature."

"Which is why you ruined my favorite shirt by spilling ketchup on it," Buffy said, drifting over close enough to hear their conversation.

Dawn's eyes widened. "I so did not."

"The lavendar one I haven't worn for two weeks?"

Dawn hid her face in Spike's shoulder. "Protect me?"

"You can't hide behind Spike forever," Buffy warned her. "And you have to sleep some time."

Spike pushed Dawn toward her sister, saying, "Better to face up to your misdeeds, Bit." Buffy immediately went on the offensive, tickling Dawn unmercifully. Spike and Tara watched with big grins on their faces, and Spike caught sight of Giles and Joyce standing in the doorway.

Spike's smile turned speculative, watching Giles place a gentle kiss on Joyce's neck while no one was looking—or so they thought. Wouldn't be long now before the two of them started sneaking around like a couple of teenagers. Which would be quite entertaining.

The grin that graced Spike's face then could only be described as evil.

~~~~~

When the next big excitement hit, Buffy and Spike weren't around to see it. Spike had made the sly suggestion that Giles take Joyce out for a night on the town, since she was back to her old self. He'd also deliberately mentioned that they needn't return that night.

Spike's teasing had been rewarded by pained looks from both of them, but neither had tried to chastise him for it. After all, it hadn't been so long ago that they'd thought they might lose him, and Spike was taking full advantage of their indulgence.

Of course, with Joyce and Giles out, that left he and Buffy to stay with Dawn while the others went to the Spring Break party at the college. Both girls had school work to catch up on, however, and Spike alternated between answering Dawn's questions and writing. It was a cozy, normal evening. Just what the doctor had ordered.

Once Dawn had gone up to bed, Spike and Buffy moved the party out to the living room couch, where they began another kind of normal activity. Things were rapidly getting more heated—buttons had been lost—when someone knocked on the front door.

"Ignore them and they'll go away," Buffy muttered between kisses. She could tell that Spike was finally back to full form and had no desire for the smoochies to end.

"What if it's an emergency?" Spike asked, gasping as one of Buffy's hands moved below the belt.

"Don't care," was her rebellious reply. "As long as the world's not ending, I have the night off."

"Buffy!" Xander's voice came through the door. "Buffy! There's something really weird going on."

Buffy and Spike tried to get up and untangle themselves at the same time, landing them both on the floor in an ungainly heap. "Bugger," Spike hissed. "Just a minute!

"You okay?" Buffy asked, extricating herself from the tangle of limbs and reaching down to give him a hand up.

Spike huffed. "Fine. Bloody hell."

Given the fact that this was the first time they'd been able to have a chance at intimacy since before Drusilla's arrival in town, both the Slayer and her fiancé could be forgiven for being irritated at the interruption. "What?" Buffy demanded, seeing Xander, Anya, Tara and Willow lined up on her front porch.

The four of them took in Buffy and Spike's disheveled states and had the grace to blush. "Sorry, Buffy," Xander said sheepishly. "For, uh, you know—"

"We're sorry we interrupted your orgasms, but we have a problem," Anya said bluntly. "A robot problem."

Spike's eyebrows went straight up. "A robot?"

"Like the one Sophomore year of high school?" Buffy asked.

Willow flushed. "No, a little different, actually. It—she was female. She kept saying she was looking for Warren, her boyfriend."

Buffy sighed. "Okay, as far as threats go, I'm not seeing this one as serious. Certainly not serious to—interrupt."

"Well, she did toss a guy through a window," Tara said apologetically.

"Even if she said she was sorry," Xander added.

Spike gave an exasperated little laugh. "Well, it's a sight better than rampagin' vampires, I s'pose."

Buffy leaned back against him. "Tons better," she agreed. "I don't think there's really anything we can do tonight."

"I can start looking into Warren's tomorrow," Willow volunteered.

"That would be great," Buffy replied, obviously waiting for the others to leave. "So we'll see you in the morning."

Anya tugged on Xander's arm. "We should let them get back to having sex. We haven't had any tonight."

"Thanks for sharing, An," Xander said with a pained smile, giving Buffy and Spike a little wave. "We'll get out of your hair."

"Much appreciated," Spike said wryly.

When they had all trooped out, Buffy hid her face in Spike's shoulder. "Now what?"

"We go right back to what we were doing."

"Mom's going to be home any minute!" Buffy objected.

Spike's face said it all. "Wouldn't expect Joyce till morning, luv. Chances are she'll try to sneak in early an' pretend she got home late."

"Then we've got plenty of time."

There wasn't much talking after that.

~~~~~

"I still think you should be resting today," Joyce said, glancing over at Spike as she unlocked the gallery. "If you're not feeling—"

"'m feelin' fine," Spike insisted. "An' if I stay at home for one more day, I'm goin' to go stir-crazy."

Joyce laughed. "Fine. By the way, thanks for watching Dawn last night."

"Did you an' Giles have fun, luv?" Spike asked with a sly grin.

Joyce returned his look with a coy one of his own. "I could ask you the same thing."

Spike laughed. "You could, but a gentleman doesn't kiss an' tell."

"Neither does a lady," Joyce replied. "And besides, it's not nearly as fun to tease you since you don't seem to be disturbed."

"What's disturbin'?" Spike asked with a charming smile. "I just like to see the two of you happy."

Joyce's smile turned thoughtful. "I am, Spike. I don't think I've been this happy since—well, since long before the divorce. It's new."

"Sometimes new is good," he acknowledged.

They worked together in contented silence for the next few hours, Joyce working on the displays up front and Spike taking care of the books in the back. "I wonder if Buffy got that robot taken care of," she commented after a while.

"Dunno," Spike replied. "Figure she'll call an' let me know when she figures it all out."

"Didn't you contact an agent the other day?" Joyce asked.

Spike came out of the office to lean against the doorframe casually. "Yeah, an' he says he wants to meet soon, in L.A. Told him it would be a couple weeks before I could get free. Did say if the book does well, I'll need to think about publicity an' such."

"And what do you think about publicity?"

"Not much," Spike said. "Don't like anythin' that takes me away from Buffy."

"I think you would probably survive," Joyce replied, and then put a hand to her forehead.

Spike stepped forward, concerned. "You alright, luv?"

"I'm fine—it's just—"

Spike caught her as she tripped. "I'm takin' you to the hospital."

"I don't think that's necessary," she protested.

Spike smiled grimly. "I think I'll let the doctor tell me that. You'll recall what happened last time you didn't listen to me 'bout goin' in?"

Joyce sighed, sick to death of hospitals. "If you insist."

"I think this time I have to."

It's the little decisions that can save someone's life—and the little moments in which lives are lost.