"Sugar?"

"No, I don’t like mine sweet," Spike replied.

"What a surprise," sighed Giles.

Spike looked at him suspiciously as he accepted the cup of tea. If the Watcher’d had the opportunity, he probably would have put poison in it. Not that it would have done any good, but Spike kept his eyes on him anyway. It was good to be prepared. He preferred having only one person at a time after him, anyway.

Though who’s to say it wasn’t Giles the whole time? He’d had the chance. And in spite of his professorial air, the Watcher was probably one of the most dangerous men Spike had ever encountered. If he didn’t want Spike hanging around Buffy, he wouldn’t hesitate to remove Spike by any means necessary.

Spike recalled almost two years before, when he had briefly reunited with Drusilla and—Spike had tried to forget about it—chained and threatened Buffy. Love me or else. He had gone to the Magic Box, later, in an attempt to ingratiate himself with the Scoobies, and for a moment Ripper had surfaced. The glimpse had chilled Spike—frightened him more than Angelus ever had. More than Adam. Hell, he was scarier than Darla, and that was saying something.

"Looking to kill me, Rupe?" he asked pleasantly. Might as well discuss this like gentlemen and all. Probably went to the same schools, albeit a hundred years apart. Why, he could be my great-great grandson, thought Spike. Except for the dying a virgin part, of course.

Giles smiled at the suggestion. Actually, he’d been considering the many known methods of killing a vampire—stake through the heart, beheading, fire, sunlight, that curious poison with which Faith had infected Angel—and wondering which of them was the most painful. He thought he might like to experiment and find out for himself. Purely for scientific purposes, of course.

"I’m not really sure why you’d think that," he told Spike mildly. "Other than the fact that this morning I requested that you examine your motives before pursuing a relationship with Buffy, and tonight I find you making yourself at home in her kitchen. You seem to have reached your decision rather quickly."

"Our decision. I was invited here," Spike returned, a little pride tingeing his voice. Damned if he had to lurk on the fringes of the Slayer’s life any more.

"Spike, the only reason I am accepting your presence here is because Buffy asked me to. She has suffered quite enough disappointment, and I don’t want to see her hurt."

"We’re together on that one, then," said Spike evenly. "And don’t flatter yourself, Rupert…I’m not sitting here making nice with you because of the scintillating conversation either."

"We seem to be clear on that, then. But keep this in mind, William…no matter how civil I may be for Buffy’s sake…I have my eye on you."

***

"Dawn, I know this probably seems a little…strange to you?" Buffy suggested. Maybe she shouldn’t have voiced it as a question. Did Dawn need things laid out firmly, or brought up gently? Buffy wasn’t sure.

"Strange? Strange? How about insane? After what he did, how can you just let him back in? Like everything’s fine? Like it was nothing?"

Buffy sat on the bed beside Dawn and touched her back softly. She was surprised Dawn didn’t push her away. "It wasn’t nothing," she said quietly. "I don’t want you to ever think that. And I don’t want you to ever let a man treat you like that. But Spike—things were different between us right from the start. It wasn’t like any other relationship I’ve had, and it wasn’t very healthy."

"So that’s different from your other relationships how?" Dawn said skeptically.

Buffy stared at Dawn. She was trying to have a serious conversation, to let Dawn in, but her sister wasn’t making it easy.

She tried again. "Spike was the only one I could talk to after I came back. I relied on him and then it…became more. But I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of a relationship with him, and I was afraid of how everyone would react. I handled things badly some of the time. Well, most of the time. I hurt him. We hurt each other. And things happened. He thought the best thing to do was leave. But we’ve talked, and…we’re friends again, and are trying to handle things differently this time."

"Friends?" Dawn repeated. "So now you’re friends?"

"Yeah," said Buffy awkwardly. "Friends."

"And you’re just going to forget about—"

"I’m moving past it," Buffy corrected. "We’re moving past it."

Buffy waited to see if Dawn had any more questions. The cool way Dawn regarded her made Buffy a little uneasy.

"Dawn, I want you to be comfortable with this. Spike’s going to be around here. I know you two used to be close, and I don’t want to—"

The sound of breaking glass and a harsh shout downstairs cut off Buffy’s explanation. Spike! The two girls leapt up, and Buffy raced downstairs with Dawn at her heels. Twice in as many days Buffy skidded to a stop in her kitchen, this time transfixed by the sight of Giles kneeling on the floor, cleaning up the remains of a teacup, while Spike ranted and swore at…Anya? What was she doing there? Buffy hadn’t seen her in months.

"Bloody hell, haven’t you ever heard of knocking?" Spike demanded. "It’s considered the polite thing to do ‘round these parts."

"And you would know that how?" inquired Giles.

"Well, when I drop in to see Giles I usually don’t knock—I don’t really have to do that these days, after all," said Anya comfortably.

"These days?" repeated Spike. "You mean Fridays?"

"I mean since I regained my demonhood."

Spike looked at her in amazement. "Regained your demonhood? You’re a V.D. again?" He couldn’t help snickering under his breath. V.D.

"You might remember the preferred term these days is justice demon," reminded Anya.

"J.D. Yeah, that’s much better," agreed Spike dryly. "So when did this happen?"

"Oh, it was quite awhile ago. Shortly after my non-wedding. Before we engaged in the emotional comfort of intimate relations," she specified, to the horror of everyone in the room.

Spike glanced at Buffy apprehensively. He knew, from what Snacksize had told him, that she’d been terribly hurt by that. Even if at the time she’d looked at him like she wanted to kill him in the most hideous manner possible.

Buffy didn’t look especially happy now, for that matter. Her lovely mouth had thinned into a disapproving line, the way it did when he put his hand up her skirt right after she’d put her clothes back on and turned into a vestal virgin.

The Watcher didn’t look all that thrilled, either, though Spike didn’t know why he’d care. Probably just his priggishness coming out at the mention of "intimate relations." Been so long since he had any, he was trying to remember what the term meant.

"Nice to relive old times," Spike muttered, wishing everybody but Buffy would fly off and do something else. Fat chance. The Watcher and the newly re-minted Demon Girl were settling in at the table like they planned to stay all night. So much for his nice evening with Buffy.

"Yes, it is a pleasant way to spend time," agreed Anya. "We have so many fine times in common, all sorts of averted apocalypses and that kind of thing. So have you told Buffy about the bag of bones?"

Spike felt rather than saw Buffy swing her attention to him. Thank god he hadn’t told Anya about his soul; she had all the discretion of a bowl of rice pudding. He forced himself to laugh nonchalantly. "No worries there," he dismissed. He noticed Dawn slip from the room and regretted that she’d even heard the mention of that evil piece of business.

"Well, it’s not nothing; someone’s trying to kill you," pointed out Anya. Spike seemed to have gained the human tendency of sweeping inconvenient facts under the rug. She was surprised; he was usually quite blunt. "And apparently they want to scare you good first."

Spike sent Anya a killing glare. Him, scared? Well, justice demons weren’t chosen for their astonishing feats of mental ability, were they?

"Kill him how?" said Buffy to Anya sharply.

Anya smiled at her. This was nice, wasn’t it, the four of them? Kind of a double date, except for Buffy and Spike not being involved any longer, and Giles not being aware of his and Anya’s involvement. "I’m not sure, they didn’t leave a note. Probably they didn’t want Spike to kill them. Oh, did you smell the bundle?" she added to Spike.

Spike groaned. "Fine, I give up. No, I did not smell the bundle. The bundle is gone. No one can smell it."

"Why would anyone want to smell it?" asked Buffy, wrinkling her nose.

"So Spike could identify the person who left it for him. You know, vampire senses," Anya pointed out, tapping her nose helpfully.

Her voice grates, thought Spike. Had her voice always been so grating?

"I guess that’s what your little query earlier was in aid of," Giles said to Spike.

"What? What query? Speak English, Giles," Buffy exclaimed. Turning to Spike she added, "Why didn’t you tell me this? Have there been any others?"

A guarded looked crossed Spike’s face even as he tried to deny it.

"No, don’t bother, I can see there have been. Come on, we’re going to your place. I want to check this out," she told him, jerking her head towards the door. "You two stay here and keep an eye on Dawn."

"Fine, fine, I’ll tell you everything," Spike said in frustration.

"Damn right you’ll tell me everything," Buffy mumbled, disappearing off the porch with him.

"Well, that was a fun time! Wasn’t that fun, the four of us together? And we seem to be alone now," Anya pointed out to Giles with a big smile. Was it too big? She dimmed it a little. She was attempting to convey her amenable nature and how much she enjoyed spending time with his friends. Although she’d never really thought of he and Spike as friends. But they’d been here having tea together, so who knew?

Giles turned to her. "Anya, how long have you known about this sack of bones that was given to Spike?"

"Oh, I’ve known for a long time. Almost as long as he has," she said importantly. Spike had recognized her professional expertise and came to the right place. Even if she hadn’t been able to help him. "He came by the Magic Box to ask my advice on what the curse could be."

"Curse? There’s a curse involved?"

"Oh, yes. Apparently he’s in considerable pain. I think he’s expressing it with his hair. Did you notice his hair?"

"Yes, his hair," repeated Giles distractedly. "So he’s back, and someone’s put a curse on him, and he’s dating Buffy. Good god."

"He’s dating Buffy? Why didn’t he tell me? Nobody tells me anything," Anya complained. Just because she and Xander hadn’t gotten married, suddenly nobody came around to chat. It was kind of hurtful. Like they’d never really been friends.

"Tell me about it," sighed Giles. He hesitated for a moment. "Anya…do you understand why I moved back to England last year? I did it to help Buffy…to help all of you. She was just happy to tread water. And she can be so many things, but she would never be any of them with me there. I was supposed to be a rock to keep her stable, but I was more like an anchor, weighing her down."

"I’m sure she knows," said Anya soothingly.

"I don’t know…when I talked to her yesterday, she seemed so distant," Giles said with uncharacteristic wistfulness. He couldn’t bear to think of Buffy relegating him to that place in her heart with all of the men who had disappointed her. He had only ever wanted the best for her. It had been kinder to allow her to grow, surely, than to stand in her way.

"Anya, when I was here in the spring Buffy told me a little about her life. Things were very much confused at that point, of course—"

"What with Willow trying to destroy the world and everything," put in Anya helpfully.

"Yes, my dear, thank you—she told me some things that had happened and it sounded like a melodrama. Everything in everyone’s life spiraling downwards until it hit bottom. Was that an accurate picture?"

"Well, I—I don’t know exactly how—" Anya struggled to comfort him. She saw that he needed it, but wasn’t sure how to provide it. Lie? Wasn’t that was humans traditionally did in situations like this? But how could it help? It would just be false comfort. It wouldn’t help, really, because Giles was smart and would see through it. And her honesty would show him that she respected him too much to lie.

"Actually, everyone’s life pretty much went to hell," she told him frankly. "Not the good kind of hell either, but the kind with no fresh air, and lots of accordion music."

Ohh. Giles looked so masculine with his mouth hanging open. Most men would look like a trout, or possibly a bluegill, but Giles looked adorable.

"Went to hell?" he repeated faintly.

"Oh, yes. I always wondered why you left again, since things went so badly the first time. But now you’re back…and you’re going to be staying, right?" she asked hopefully.

"Went to hell, did you say?"

***

Buffy studied the stick figure. "A doll. Are you sure this wasn’t Drusilla? Because it kind of sounds like Drusilla."

Spike shook his head. "If Dru wanted to hurt me I’d be in chains by now, with a hot poker halfway up—"

"Okay, okay," said Buffy hastily. "That’s enough. No need for a diagram. Show me where you found it."

"Under there," Spike said, pointing to the good chair.

Buffy moved over to the chair and peered underneath, sticking her cute little ass in the air. Spike appreciated the view. Considering that a few days before he’d been waiting for her to come by and kill him, he was thrilled to be in the same room as her.

Of course, he always had been.

"Well, I can’t see anything here n—eww! A Twinkies wrapper!" Buffy stood, holding the crumpled plastic in front of her. "Clem’s, I presume."

Spike laughed. Really laughed. It was amazing to be with her, relaxed, open, without having to wonder when she’d turn back into Buffy Summers, Supergirl, who hated him and the things they did together and resented the fleeting moments she gave him.

"Yeah, that’s more his kind of thing than mine. I guess I should do some more cleaning, get rid of all the junk."

Buffy nodded absently, mind still on the task at hand. "Now, you said the bones are gone?" she asked. "What happened?"

"Well, I went out for…something, and when I came back they were gone."

"Well, how long were you gone?"

Spike considered. He was pretty smashed at the time, didn’t really have a great grasp of time. "An hour or so?"

"And what did you do?"

Spike was silent for a moment. A lot had happened to both of them since he’d slept with Anya, but he didn’t want Buffy to be reminded of it. Hell, he wasn’t eager to remember it himself. Wham, bam, hello guilt trip.

"I went to the magic shop to get a handle on how the curse was going down," he said finally.

Buffy felt a little chilled. A little disconnected. "So you went to Anya for help rather than come to me."

Spike reached out to squeeze her hand. "God, pet, I didn’t know how you felt about me. It was—it was nothing. I wasn’t thinking. She couldn’t help. If she was what I needed, she’d be here with me now, not you."

She turned her hand in his until their palms met. Returned his squeeze. "We’re not talking about the curse any more, are we?" she whispered.

He felt his heart flip over. "I guess not."

She gave him a shy smile. "Good."

***

It was late, and for a moment, when he first opened the door, Xander thought he was dreaming. He blinked, thinking he might wake up, or that his eyes would clear and reveal an empty doorway.

But when he focused again Buffy was still standing there, small and alone in the hallway.

"Buff—" he murmured in astonishment. She hadn’t been by his place since May. A few days after they’d seen Anya and Spike together. After that everything fell apart so fast, and then the next thing he knew Buffy had put Will’s things in boxes and suitcases and put them by her front door and told him to take them. She didn’t want them in her house anymore.

He glanced behind him; he wasn’t sure why. So she wouldn’t see Willow, and go ballistic? So Will wouldn’t see Buffy, and start to cry? "Buffy—"

"Is Willow here?" Buffy asked.

Where else would she be? Apocalyptics Anonymous? More likely she’d been back peering in the windows of 1630 Revello Drive. "Umm, yeah. It’s kind of late now, and I don’t like to leave her, so maybe I could stop by your place tomorrow if you need to talk?" he suggested gingerly.

"Actually, I’m here to see her," Buffy said with a small smile.

It took Xander a moment to absorb what she said. A wild smile streaked across his face as her meaning sunk in. It was the happiest day of his life; he thought his heart might crack open.

"God, god yeah, Buffy, come in," he said eagerly, urging her in. "She’s just—she’s in the kitchen, we had a midnight snack and she’s washing the dishes. Let me get her, I’ll go, I’ll get her."

Xander rushed out of the room, not noticing and not caring that he was becoming incoherent. A moment later he was back again, holding Willow’s hand and tugging her forward like a child, murmuring something Buffy couldn’t hear.

Willow stepped closer to Buffy, wonder on her intelligent face. It had been so long since Xander had seen her like that. It was like she was once again the sweet girl he’d always loved.

"Buffy," Willow breathed, moving forward suddenly to fling her arms around Buffy. Buffy drew Willow down to sit beside her on the couch, and Xander moved to join them, but Buffy turned her face up to him.

"Could I have a few minutes alone with Willow?"

He got up immediately. Of course, they would have a lot to discuss. He should have realized it; he was just so excited he wasn’t thinking. "Of course. I’ll just—just go finish the dishes," he said, heading back into the kitchen. He felt like skipping.

Buffy watched him leave. When she turned back to Willow, she found the redhead’s searching eyes hadn’t left her face.

She bent closer to Willow. Willow moved closer, too, eager to follow her lead. Buffy was relieved. That made things easier. When she spoke, it was right in Willow’s ear, as she tightened her hand over Willow’s.

"Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing to Spike?"