Special thanks to Chris who pushed it today to get this out. We've betaed until we should get fired!

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Voices in the Dark 3
 

Buffy was at the refrigerator, loading in three more jars of blood when Spike came upstairs barefoot, rubbing his hand through his newly-spiked and two-toned hair. Her jaw went slack.

"Who are you and what have you done with Spike?"

He stopped and stared at her, as a smirk started tugging at the corner of his mouth. His hair was freshly cut. The old white-blond color was confined to the tips of a brown hair shaft. It was a little longer than he normally wore it. Hard to believe anyone's hair, even a vampire's, could grow that much in two months. There was more brown than blond.

"What the hell have you done to your hair?"

"Me? No, not me. Bit did it. What? Don't like it?"

Buffy's tilted her head and pursed her lips. "You look like a guitar player."

"Yeah?" He grinned.

"From Seattle."

"Oh, grunge. Well, it's a thing."

Shrugging, Spike walked to the refrigerator and peeped in. Buffy reached up and touched his hair. Drew her hand back. "Hmmph. What's in it?"

Spike went to the bookcase and picked up a bottle that looked like Elmer's Glue, silently handing it to Buffy.

"This is glue," she said, turning it over in her hand.

"S'not. It just *looks* like glue. It's for your hair. You rub it together with other stuff, too. Clever, eh?"

"If you were gonna do it, why didn't you put it back the way it was?"

"The Nibblet liked it this way. She cut it, too."

"Dawn has you so whipped," she said in exasperation. "She's given you a makeover. But - well, okay, I'm kinda getting' used to it. Not so eighties. I like." She squinted. "I think. You changed," she said taking in the looser sweat-shirt.

"Yep. More sweats. Clem brought 'em by. New uniform for the former Big Bad. Dawn's had gotten a bit tight. Couldn't even wear the shirt anymore without feelin' like I was in a straitjacket or somethin'," he said easily.

"As one who has hallucinated the whole straitjacket thing, I get it." She eyed the sweats. "Gray again."

"Well, yeah. Sweats are gray," he said flatly

His lips had tightened, and he sounded miffed. Buffy chose to ignore the mood swing.

"Not all sweats," she pointed out.

"All *my* sweats. Only poofs wear - "

Somehow this conversation had headed off to take up residence in a life of its own. She hoped it would do it in the next county. Deciding to capitulate graciously, she changed the subject.

"Okay, okay. I'm done making with the criticism," she said in apology. "So, what'd you do all day? Play guitar?"

Buffy winced. Now where did that come from?

Spike blew out a disgusted breath. "Fine. If you don't like it, toddle off to the five and dime and put my bleedin' hair back the way it was. Or shave my soddin' head. It's not like I can see it or anythin'."

"Five and dime?" She frowned, momentarily forgetting that they were headed toward another argument.

"Drug store. Oh, wait." His tone became sarcastic. "Let me put it in words you can understand. Hold on. Almost got the slayer translation. Yeah, that's it: Target."

"Oh."

Spike threw himself into the chair and switched on the TV, turning the sound up a little louder than usual. Fuming, Buffy straightened the refrigerator and slammed a couple of mugs around for no reason except her own frustration.

This was gonna be a long night.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Buffy leaned against the table. The television was still on. She wasn't watching it, and she suspected Spike wasn't either. The few times she'd looked over at him he'd seemed preoccupied. And he was still mad. Obviously. He hadn't said a word to her in two hours. The television flickered with the only source of light in the room. What had happened to the ritual candle lighting?

"You know I'll never go to Africa, right? Or really anywhere," she said conversationally.

Spike's mouth tightened as he dug his fingers into the arm of the chair.

Noticing the fresh onslaught of tension, Buffy sighed. "You know, you barely tolerate me these days."

Spike's jaw dropped slightly. Turning his head in surprise, he looked into her soft, sad eyes.

"What? You think I wouldn't notice? Hello, self-absorbed here, but not so completely unobservy." She went on quickly, glad to have finally gotten his attention. "You never look me in the eye anymore, unless you're mad at me. We barely talk. Not that we'd done much of that for a while, but - anyway, I yell, you yell back. And then, it's like this."

Buffy laughed ruefully as she looked down at his whitening knuckles. "See, you're doin' it again. Makin' with the strangle-hold. One of these days, you're gonna put your fingers right through the arm of that chair."

He continued to look at her in astonishment as a muscle spasmed in his jaw.

"I know I was horrible to you. Knew it even then. It was killing me to know I was hurting you like that - hurting *me* like that. The asylum was looking *really* attractive. Nice vacation spot for over-worked, death-challenged slayers."

As his eyes began to redden and itch, he swung his head back around in the direction of the tv. The naked honesty in her eyes was more than he could bear.

"I know you don't love me anymore," she said softly. "And I get that. Kind of a match made in hell - or the Hellmouth anyway. But could you at least try to like me a little? I'm not going anywhere, you know. Not until you're better. Not unless you ask me to."

"I'm not askin' you for anything," he grated out.

It was a vague answer, but it was better than the silence. She sighed. "Okay. Just thought we could talk."

He turned back to her with hardened eyes and got up out of the chair, barely leashing his rage. "Oh, so now you want to talk. What is it you want to talk about, Buffy? Because if you want to talk, rather belatedly I might add, I'm sure I can oblige you and listen," he said curtly.

Buffy took a deep breath. "I meant, talk *together*."

"Oh, to each other, you mean? Instead of *at* each other? Fine. Me first then. Why are you here?"

"What?" It was Buffy's turn to look at him in astonishment.

"You heard me. I don't stutter. Once again, then: Why are you here?"

"I thought - "

"You thought what? That we could throw a pity party? No thanks. Got a lot to sort through."

"I thought you might need me."

"I needed you *before* I went to Africa. Clem's good enough for an ex-Big Bad like me. He's calm, good. Being with him doesn't dredge up - Oh, sod it. I don't need your pity, Buffy. I'll get through this. S'no worse than being in love with you was."

"So you *don't* love me anymore. See, that makes it easy. We can be friends."

Spike stalked over to Buffy. His voice was breaking, as his eyes glistened with angry tears. "Friends? We'll never be friends! We'll -"

The triumphant look on her face confused him. He stopped and thought about what he was saying. And in his mind, he finished it.

You'll be in love till it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends.

He tilted his head to one side and looked at her in puzzlement.

She smiled. "I love you, Spike."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"So what? You were gonna get the chip out and come after me? Start killing my friends?"

Spike got up on one elbow and looked over Buffy's naked shoulder to catch a glimpse of her expression. "Well, not kill all of 'em," he confessed. "I was gonna turn Red. Vamp her. Do it up right."

Flopping over on her back, she looked at him with narrow eyes. "You've got a thing for Willow?"

"Always thought she'd make an interestin' little demon," he teased.

Turning back over in a huff, Buffy muttered, "Well, you were right on that one."

Spike laughed silently as he kissed her shoulder. "And besides, didn't go to Africa to get the chip out anyway."

Buffy froze. "What?"

"You assumed I went to Africa to majick the chip out. Didn't."

She turned over, sitting up in surprise. "You didn't?"

"Nope."

"But I thought - "

"And that," Spike punched a finger at her nose as her eyes crossed involuntarily, "is your biggest problem, Slayer. Always thinkin' the worst." He held her eyes solemnly. "I realized that night I hurt you that you deserved better than a soulless demon. However, since you *do* need a little monster in your man, I decided it was the soulless part had to go."

"You went to Africa to get a soul?"

"Yep."

"For me?"

"Well, it started out that way, but I got over it. No, Slayer, I got it for me. And as I told the Bit, it's a bloody nuisance sometimes."

Buffy snuggled in closer and sighed. "Good thing there were no strings attached. Like hidden - clauses."

"You mean the sex thing." He grinned mischievously. "Nope, no strings attached. When I set out to do somethin', I do it right."

"Oh, yeah. You do." She turned back over with a glint of amusement in her eye. "Do it again."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

They marched through the door, Dawn reaching into a sack, and Buffy winding up for the pitch.

"Ow!" Spike looked at the t-shirt and jeans he was suddenly holding. "What the hell - "

"Find your boots. Get dressed. We've got trouble," Buffy said in a hard Slayer-like voice.

Spike took a deep breath, looking at each of them in turn. He jumped up and started to come out of the sweat pants. At Buffy's throat clearing, he looked at Dawn guiltily and headed downstairs, delivering a running monologue the whole time.

"Somethin' else gone to bloody hell, has it? Can't leave a simple vampire in peace, can ya - neither of you?

"Well, what is it this time? Nest gone out of control? Is it that soddin' Naxos demon Clem keeps natterin' on about? Thin-lipped bloody Slayer doesn't ask for help until the apocalypse is comin' down. And now you're even draggin' the Bit into it. Guess I'll be expected to save her, too!"

Dawn looked at her sister and grinned with delight.

"Blah, blah, blah." Buffy rolled her eyes at Dawn, whose widening smile was threatening to split her face wide open. "Less talk, more dressage. And yeah, it's the Naxos. Six of 'em. *And* a spell to open the Hellmouth. Can you say 'Apocalypse Now?' Oh, and there's a few vampire worshipper-type flunkies. You know the kind that say 'yes, master?' Old minions of yours maybe?"

Spike appeared at the top of the steps, pulling his belt into place with a puzzled look on his face. Buffy didn't know if she'd ever get used to the white tipped ends on brown hair, but the short, spiked grunge look seemed to suit him.

"Jesus, Slayer, couldn't you have figured this out sooner? Who you got doin' research now? Monkey-boy Harris? And who's backup?"

"Figured if we've got you, we're pretty well covered."

"Oh, right." He rolled his eyes toward heaven. "I'll be spot on if you want me to talk 'em to death. This is the fastest I've moved in months - I need a nap!"

"Get over it! We've got vamps to slay and demons to kill!"

Spike stared at her as the slow wolfish grin spread across her face. In spite of himself, he felt himself matching it as the old blood lust surged.

"Bloody hell! For puppies and Christmas then."

"Kittens and hugs," sang out Dawn.

The Slayer and the Vampire looked at Dawn.

"What? I can't say something cool?"

They rolled their eyes. Dawn stormed out of the crypt.

Buffy smiled a secret smile at Spike. "Good to have you back."

"And it'll be good to have you *on* yours. That is, if I'm still here when we're done," he sighed dramatically.

Buffy grinned. "Well, I might have exaggerated a little."

"What? How little?"

"Well, two of the Naxos demons split town last night."

"Yeah?"

"And the vamps aren't your old minions, they're some of Harmony's rejects."

Spike was shocked. "Can't believe any of those lack-wits lasted this long."

"And the spell?"

"Yeah?"

"Bad translation. Probably won't do any more than give the Hellmouth a hickey. It's kind of a dry run for Dawn," she explained.

"Hmm. Won't take long then. You tricked me, pet. Got me all dressed and pumped up."

"Yep. Can't keep a good vamp down."

"Doesn't sound like it's gonna be much of a night for slaying though. Say, you got any vids at your house?"

"Dawn probably neglected to take back a couple. Or six."

"Movie later? Popcorn? Snog a bit?"

She shrugged. "Why not? But I've got work tomorrow."

"S'okay. I'll get you to bed on time."
 
 

THE END