Title: To Be Loved

Disclaimer: See previous chapter.

Notes: Starts same night

Thanks to Squirl, who always asks me to write, and always wants it to be this story, hope I didn't dissapoint dove. maybe one day I'll be able to finish this in time


Angel Mansion...

Angel has been standing on his balcony perfectly still for three hours, 42 mins and 19 seconds. Watching the moon inch by inch as it glides over the heavens, ever so slowly. Because watching the moon and counting the seconds is better. Better then thinking about...Her...Him...them...and every other thing that gnaws at his soul, rips at his heart.

He closes his eyes and stops counting the seconds and sighs 'Why wasn't I here? Why did these meddling...Powers send me away. When I could have saved her Well, he didn't save her, OF COURSE he couldn't SAVE her! He's a monster! So are you It's not...the same. I've changed So, has he. No. YES, can't you feel it? It's absurd! He can't change! He's a fool. Fool for love. Something Angelus could never do!

"Why!" He growled fiercely if not quietly.

"Why what, Angel?" Weasly's calm and gentle voice startled Angel.

Angel whips his head around and sees Wesleys concerned look, and tired eyes staring intently at Angel.

Angel looks ashamed and sighs, "Sorry, bad thoughts."

Wesley nods, "Buffy?" Wesley has no problem saying her name to Angel. It's this engrained, detached training that Wesley has that almost puts Angel at ease. No tears, and melodrama. It's comforting to not deal.

Angel nods, "Among other things."

Wesley pauses and then nods in understanding, "Spike."

Angel says nothing, but growls and turns back to the moon.

"I must say, Angel. I'm quite fascinated by Spike's reaction to the situation. It's rather unheard of. A vampire feeling such emotion for the loss of a human. Let alone, a slayer."

Angel says nothing and continues to stare. Wesley lost in his own thoughts and ideas continues on.

"I'd really like to interview Spike. I must confess a great deal could be learned from such a creature. I dare say this could change everything we know-"

"It changes nothing." Angel's abruptly interrupts Wesley. Forcing Wesley to recoil ever so slightly , similar in a way when his ideas were shot down by the council or even more so, his father.

Sighing, Angel grimly continues, "Spike is simply...Unique. The rest are just monsters."

Wesley's eyes soften at the meaning of that statement and decides to say nothing more. He stares toward the same moon as Angel and begins to lose himself in his own thoughts and fascinations.

Casa de Summers...

Tonight he was faster. Tonight he was stronger. He bolted up the tower, leaping over steps, swinging over under and around bars like a wild animal. Yet...even then he was too slow, Dawn had already been cut, Doc held a cruel smile with excited eyes, and the portal was spreading shifting flowing and growing. Bolts of energy were striking sunnydale and demons from forbidden dimensions were spewing forth, hungry and ready to shred through this new unknown world.

Spike was furious, rage and pain were pulsating through his very core. In mere moments he was upon Doc viciously ripping into him, tearing at his flesh, pulling off his limbs and just simply shredding him too bits. He shakily rose from the puddle of goo and turned to his bit.

Fear shining in her young blue eyes, "Sp-Spike. Cut my ropes. I ha-have to jump." Tears spilling over, "We have to stop this."

Spike, covered in dripping gore, approached her with determination. Without saying a word, he ripped one of her bindings off and brought her wrist to his mouth.

Dawns eyes widen in confusion, "Spike! What are you doing! Let me go!" Tears spilling, "I need to go."

Spikes true visage came forth and he sank his teeth into Dawns already seeping wound. Pain racks his body, almost crippling him as he grabs the banister next to him to steady himself. Face contorting with such immense pain his skin seemed as if it would split in half. Finally he dropped her wrist after just a few pints. Fatigued Dawn fell against the banister

Spike's trembling hand strokes Dawns young face, fingers sliding down her face and resting under her chin, he gently lifts her head to face him. She looks so confused, hurt and filled with fear.

Spike smirked, gently "See, Nib. You're human. Because that soddin hurt. Now, I'm gonna go, pet." He jerks his head toward the portal. "Got me a world to save, don't I."

"Spike, No!" Dawn shrieked, gaining a resemblance of strength. "It's gotta be me. I'm the only one who can stop this!"

Spike smirked, as the portal evolved and destruction spread. "Don't think so, pet. It's all about the Blood." He rubs his stomach absently, "Gotta enough of that. Love you, Dawn. Tell your sister the same."

And then he leapt, straight into the massive blue vortex and as it engulfed him, he could feel his atoms rip apart, his essence tear apart. He regurgitated the blood and it began to spread throughout the portal, making it weaker and small. All the while he was trapped inside the core of this energy, ripping apart at the seams .

"Bugger." He grunted in pain. He looked around at a brightly blue tinted world. The scoobies battered and broken were pulling themselves together, staring wide eyed at the quickly degenerating vampire. He desperately searched for Buffy, scanning the rubble and carnage around him till his eyes fell upon her...his slayer. He smiled, not a bad last sight he felt. Then he noticed. She was saying something to him, desperately trying to get him to understand.

"Can't hear you, pet" His voice is weak, his life is ending. And she tries yelling, needing to tell him but all he hears is burning energy searing around him. His limbs are ashing, his skin is breaking apart.

"Can't hear..."And he was gone.

Next thing he knew, Spike was free falling about a hundred feet in the air.

Filled with panic, arms failing, "Bloody buggering hell!"

The ground was zooming towards to Spike, or more accurately Spike was about slam into the ground.


And then...collision.

It took a moment, or maybe several but with a groan and some effort, the master vampire began to move.

Growling he raised his head and began to push himself up, but suddenly he froze as soon as he realized where he was. A slab of stone was placed in front of him, secluded in and off the beaten path deep in the woods. There it was

Buffy Anne Summers...

"It changed nothing"


"Stop pillock, couldn't even..."

...She Saved the world, A lot.

He was close to breaking down, even in his dreams he couldn't-

A decayed and rotting hand shot of the grave and grabbed his throat.

He grabbed the arm and tried his hardest to pull it off. Choking out a simple "Aw, hell"

Buffys rotted, worm infested head began to break the surface of grave.

"Sod..ing Night..of...the Sl.. ..slayers"The grip was getting tighter, making it hard for him to even attempt to speak.

She broke free and was now in clear view, her skin began to regenerate, gray's became pink, lifeless eyes regained their soul.

A look of demand and pure determination was planted on her face.

"Spike. Don't let them do this!"

And that's when the vampire's eyes snapped open.

His breaths were heavy and hard, and the blond vampire was sure if he had a beating heart it'd burst out of his chest. It's only the calming scent of his nibblet that brings him back to his surroundings. Back to the basement, not her grave, his nib curled around him for protection, instead of the slayers dead fingers wrapped around his throat.

He was clamy, cold sweat covered his entire body, shaken by this and so visceral dream. Running a hand over his face all he could think was, 'Bloody hell, I need a cigarette.'

He looked down at his little Dawn, a faint smile forming on his lips, then kissed her forehead and gently untangled himself from her tight embrace. Slowly and carefully as possible he tried to scoot over his ward, only for her to stir.

"Spike?" She murmured sleepily.

"Shh, pet. 'm gonna smoke a fag. Be back in a bit. Go back to sleep." He brushed her hair with his fingertips and she just nodded into the pillow drifting back into her too few good nights.

Using every once of agility he possessed he bounded up the steps without a single creak making his way through the kitchen, then out to the back porch.

The night was cool, sky was clear and blanketed by an infinite amount of stars, and the moon ….the moon was bright. It..is not comforting to the the Master Vampire. He feels bruised, tired, and confused. He drops on the steps rather then sits and slumps against the railing. Shaky fingers pull out his pack, placing the pack to his mouth and pulls the cigarette. It takes a couple tries but he finally got the spark and lit up.

Usually these dreams end in tears, and overwhelming self loathing. The need to be faster, the desire to be better, the hope...the hope that he could actually save her and she would embrace him. Longing for a moment that their histories are just that, and for a brilliant effulgent point in time he would be a man again. Because so far, being a demon just hasn't worked out.

But tonight...tonight is different. The dream beat him, battered him, and perplexed him. Never once has her grave been in his dream. And a returning angry zombie Slayer isn't exactly Spike's chance to be a hero.

'What could it mean?' He whispered inside his thoughts, 'What could it mean, what could it mean, what could it mean.'

It felt all too real, his throat hurts, his body aches, and too few events make Spike slow down and reflect. He closed his eyes and dropped his head. Spike wonders idly if he just stayed there and let the sun come, this never ending plague would just stop. He could go to hell and it would just be fist and fangs and fighting for the rest of eternity. It would be easier, he'd be thrilled, non-ending violence and all this effort would stop draining him. These dreams would go-

"What did she mean?" He whispered out loud.

"What did who mean?" Cordelia's voice softly crept on Spike.

Spike sighs wearily but smiles, the cheerleader has been a surprising source of calm and comfort for the vampire. Though also a disturbance, every time he's in her presence or thinks of her, some dueling voice appears and reminds him of how beautiful she is. It was distracting and a slight agaisnt his feelings for Buffy, but he can't seem to stop himself from seeking her comfort.

Taking an unnecessary deep breath, Spike slowly exhales with a soft, "Bad dreams, pet." And turns to give her a rueful look.

Cordelia's eyes grow big and she gasps, "Spike!" quickly she rushes to his side. "Your neck." She tentatively reaches to towards his neck,"Who did this to you? Was it Xander, because I kick that idiots ass."

Spike swiftly grabs her hand and bunches his eyebrows in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Confusions mars her face and then she explains as if talking to a child, "Spike...your neck is bruised...like bad."

"Bloody 'ell" He whispers, a myriad of thoughts and emotions passing over his face before settles to focus on a non-sequencer. "It wasn't the whelp, but I don't need you to fight dough boy. I can handle him m'self."

Cordelia reered back with a rude look and "Eh", holding up her she flicks the air, as if to say "leave that attitude at the door"

"Come on, get up, sulkypants. We're going inside. I want to take a better look at that bruise and you have a story to tell." She got up from crouching position and sauters off into the kitchen. When Spike didn't immediately follow, and haughty and demanding "Uh, NOW!" could be heard from inside.

Spike jumps quickly, almost in a panic before he shakes his head bemusedly for his foolishness, "Bloody chit. Gonna be the undeath o' me." Regaining his composure he swaggers himself right on inside.

Spike enters the kitchen and sees that Cordelia has already pulled a chair out for him and was busy warming up some blood. He plops down on the chair and fringes nonchalance, but he fidgets like an over hyper child brought down to the principles office. The Dream shakes him and he's barely had time to ponder it's implications, let alone the fact that it somehow bruised him. All he can do is focus on the silent beautiful creature in front of him. And scrowl, at the fact that he describes her as beautiful, scrowling even more when he realizes that it makes him scrowl.

Cordelia keeps her back to the former blond menace as she watches the blood spin in circles within the microwave. The nights have been restless for the seer, she was used to the noise of L.A , the big lights, big stars and never ending days. It wasn't just the possible missed acting opportunities, malls, beaches, and the glitz or glamour she long for. It was the people, she was connected to the city of angels, she felt their pain and agony for days. A whole world of people that she needed to help, and now she can't. Now she was back to the quiet yet deadly world of the hellmouth. Feeling without purpose, and so far...without visions.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP the microwave loudly reverberates through the silent room and breaks any remaining tension.

Cordelia gets the blood and turns to Spike, "Ok, Bleach boy, what's the deal?" She walks to Spike and hands him the blood

He takes the blood and begins to sip it, suddenly feeling tired, "Had a bad dream s'all. Was being choked...guess I did to myself."

"Hmm, maybe but unless you have dainty little girl hands I don't think that's the case."

Spike couldn't even hold back his surprise, "What you mean, Pet?"

Cordelia shakes her head in disbelief, "Spike your neck isn't just bruised. It's a hand print." She reaches out to Spike's neck, he jerks back and stills. The cheerleaders hand stills for a moment and she gives him a demanding look before she places her hand around his neck. They both feel a thrill they try to stifle.

"See, it fits my hand pretty well." Her eyes shine with doubt and confusion. "Did...Dawn do this?"

Spike sputtered, "What?! Don't be bloody ridiculous. She couldn't even bruise the whelp in her state now...Well maybe the whelp."

The former cheerleader stifiled a smirk, letting a glare form on her features, "Seriously, Spike. What happened?"

The bleached vampires face became stone, "Nothing. It's...it's bloody nothing."

A perfectly raised eyebrow from Cordelia indicated her lack of belief. "Spike...you don't have to lie to me. I'm...and even i'm having a hard time saying this, I'm your friend. I'm not one of them. You can talk to me."

Spike stared silently, his face is unmoved but his eyes...his eyes vibrant with emotion, a thunderous blue swirling over her words. He learned from Angelus that family has no meaning, from demons that friends can't be made, But Joyce and Dawn chipped away at the first notion, and now this cheerleader, this former Queen bitch who gave up status for helping...the hopeless. Which is exactly what he feels like at the moment. Utterly hopeless to understand these dreams, this grief over Buffy, and attraction to the women in front of him.

He opens his mouth slightly, testing the waters of his mettle, and she desperately tries to not focus on his lips. "I feel..." He losses his words for a moment and looks away, face tense he turns back, "I feel so human right now, it makes me bloody sick."

Cordelia's eye brows shot up, not exactly what she was expecting, but she'll go with it. "Yeah, well feelings are kind of a bummer."

Spike's hand slams down on the table, jolting the seer, "Well, that's the bloody problem init? I'm not supposed to have feelings, specially over a slayers death. And these damn scoobies, I actually...I kinda..you know if something happened to Dawn, im not sure I wouldn't greet one the next day, and that's sick. I shouldnt feel this way, every human and demon says it."

"Spike, if you were one to follow what others believe you would have dyed that hair a looooong time ago."

Spike dulls back, indignant, "Lay off the hair cheerleader, I'll have you know Billy Idol stole this look and it did wonders for him."

"Yeah! Like 18 years ago." Cordelia snapped back with a grin.

Spike snorts as a grin creeps up. "Yeah, well after the Reagan era I gave up on trying to blend in, with you bloody happy meals. Swatches...ridiculous."

Cordelia smiles and crosses her arms, "Ok, distraction time is over, Spike" uh oh real name, she suddenly and annoyingly becomes serious, "Seriously, what kind of dreams cause you to get bruised? Because it sounds like we might need to hit the books, or better yet, have Wesley and Willow hit the books and tell us whats going on."

Confusion marred Spike's scarred brow, "Who said the dream caused my bruise, pet"

"Duh, you had a bad dream and then you wake up with lady finger tattoos, not hard to put two and two together, I'm not just another beautiful face with a smoking hot body, you know."

Spike's look took on a leer, "No pet, you definitely got it all, can't deny that." The leer melted into stoic focus, "I've been having dreams about-"

Spike was halted by a piercing scream from the basement, and cries for the vampire. "Nibblet." He sighed, "More bad dreams" He rushes to the basement door ready to get away from serious conversation and comfort his girl.

"Spike!" Cordelia called out before he disappeared, stopping him in his hasty tracks. "We'll talk about this later right?" At Spike's lack of a confirmation, she continued " I'm not one of them...you can talk to me" He turns to her, letting a tiny genuine smile grace his lips.

"'We will, pet. We will." And disappears into the darkness.

Cordelia sits there, satisfied and tingly, letting his Pet shiver its way down her body.

Joyces Bedroom...

Sitting cross legged on the bed, resolve face planted firmly on, with an ancient book in her lap Willow squees with success, "Aha! I found it, baby" She turns her excited glee towards her partner, "It'll take time, and we need a whole lot of hard to get materials, but I can-we can do it. We can bring Buffy back."

Tara so full of sweet nature, caresses Willows arm in support, "That's great Willow." A moment of doubt crosses the witches face as she bites her lip nervously "That's fantastic."

And Tara really hopes it is