By: Ally

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Spike and Willow do not belong to me, they belong to Joss. The lyrics and title belong to Bruce Springsteen.

Summary: A sort of songfic. Spike is drawn back to SunnyDale, and finds someone.

Spoilers: Up to Becoming, then I twist it.

Notes: *’s indicate thoughts.

Feedback: just call me a feed back whore.

Spike walked into his apartment just as the first haze of dawn was creeping over the horizon. He slowly made his way from the front door into the kitchen, shedding articles of clothing as he went, so that by the time he made it to the refrigerator he was only wearing boxers. Grabbing a bag of O negative from the shelf he quickly downed its contents, and tossed the bag over his shoulder and into the waiting trashcan. As the chilled blood hit his system, he felt the gnawing hunger go away. He went over to the small kitchenette and sat down resting his head on his arms. He flipped the switch on the radio sitting on the table, and a familiar tune filled the room.

*Tired? I’m bloody beat!* he thought. As the music of The Boss smoothed his frazzled nerves, he thought back to how this whole escapade had begun. It had all started about three weeks ago when he had returned to Sunnyhell. He didn’t know why he had gone back, he had given his word to the slayer not to return. Yet the whole while he was in South America he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Some unknown force was pulling him back to Sunnyhell. As Dru would have said, if she hadn’t thrown herself into the sun when her precious daddy went to hell, the town was whispering at him. Telling him to come back. So he did. There was nothing let for him in Brazil since Dru had poofed herself, and besides, he never gave up a chance to piss off the slayer. However upon arriving in the town, fate had an interesting hand to deal him.

As he drove the DeSoto through the seemingly deserted town as small knot of worry coiled itself in his still heart. *The bloody poof couldn’t have succeeded…* then he saw her. Actually he heard her first; the loud beating of her heart was like a series of fireworks in the still night. But then he caught sight of her, and a scene that could have stopped his heart, if it still beat. Her hair was a stream of red behind her as she rounded the corner, running at full speed behind her was a gang of about 15 vampires, and they were gaining. Every time she turned her head to look behind her, her hair would blind her and she would stumble. Not enough to make her fall, but enough to slow her down. Finally the last time she looked over her shoulder she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground.

A war was raging in Spike’s mind as he saw her fall. Who was he to turn on his own, he should just keep on going. But another voice in his mind reminded him that he sort of liked the red headed witch. Her fire, her spunk. Besides she could tell him what the hell was going on. With a surrendering growl at himself he pulled the car up beside her crumpled figure and opened the passenger side door. "Get in!" he shouted at her. He could see the warring in her mind. In a split second she decided getting in the car with a know enemy, would be better then getting ripped apart by a pack of ruthless vamps. She scrambled into the side seat, closing the door with a thud as Spike hit the gas, leaving the gang in a cloud of foul smelling smoke.

She directed him to an old warehouse, and as he slowed the car down she scrambled out before he could even park. It had taken a shit load of explaining and promises to convince her that he wasn't going to hurt her, and he just wanted answers. Finally, she had let him enter the warehouse with her. As he stepped in he had taken an unneeded breath. It had looked as if she, along with the other couple of inhabitants had been living there for several months. There were small piles of clothes and other items in little clusters all over the floor. She led him over to what was obviously her area, and had invited him to sit down. Unable to control himself any longer he bombarded her with questions. Which she had answered with a weak, flat voice. Devoid of emotion, except for the fact that it sounded weary and sad. As he had suspected the town was deserted. After the slayer had sent Angelous to hell she had run off. The remaining group had tried to keep up her duties, but slowly but surely they began to fall as the vampire population grew without the slayers presence. Of the original group she was the only one remaining.

Long after she had fallen into a fitful sleep he sat, thinking about all she had told him. She had watched each of her friends die, and yet she still fought on. Every night she went out, trying to dust at least one vamp. Doing this she felt honored her friends memories. But that night they had ambushed her. She staked two of them before she was horribly outnumbered. So she did the only thing she could do. She ran, and he, William the Bloody, had saved her. He still wasn’t sure what had made him help her, but he figured that’s why he felt the need to come back to this small Californian town. But since he was there he may as well help her he decided. So that’s what he’d been doing for the past three weeks. Every night he’d go out with her and they’d kill as many vampires as they could. Somewhere deep inside a voice chided him for starting to act like his poof-sire. But as he got to know the redhead better and better each night that voice became smaller and quieter.

And then the unexpected had happened. One night after patrolling he found himself kissing the petite girl, and rather enjoying it. He had loved the way her small frame fit against him. How her hair shined like fire when caught in the street light above them. At the moment her warm lips met his cool ones he could have sworn his heart let out a single beat. He had fallen for the girl and she for him. They had started back towards the apartment he had taken over hand in hand. He couldn’t have been happier, even without a soul. They had almost reached the apartment complex when the attack came. He had tried desperately to get her to run. But she refused; she fought the vampires that had attacked them with the ferocity of a tiger. He watched the fire inside her burn as intensely as the sun as she went after another vamp. And then it was gone. He had just dusted his last vamp and had turned to help her. There was nothing he could do, one moment she was there, her eyes sparkling with life, and the next she was gone, her neck snapped by one of the vamps. It was if something inside of him had died with her. In a blind fury he violently dispatched the rest of the attackers. But it was too late to save her. All he could do was hold her lifeless body and scream and cry. And when he could cry no more he took her and buried her with the bodies of her friends. And so for the past week, in an attempt to dull the pain, he gave himself a routine. Every night he would wake up, go dust as many vamps as he could, then go to her grave and tell her what had happened. And he would keep doing that until she was avenged, or until he himself was killed. She would have wanted it that way, and it was the only thing he could do to honor her memory and her spark of life that had survived more horrors then it should have.

As the song ended and drifted into another Spike pulled himself out of his memories, and flipped the radio off. He sat there thinking about the last line of the song, and something about it rang true in his heart. He and Willow had shared something bright and beautiful. It had consumed him wholly, but in the end it had only been a sadly sweet dance in the dark.