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Part 21 The first streaks of dawn were coming in the stained-glass window, striking the face of the living man lying on the table, making him open his eyes for the first time. He blinked his eyes a few times, saw Giles, Joe, and Willow standing by smiling - and he burst into tears. Racking sobs shook his body as he rolled onto his side into a fetal position. He cried and cried, not noticing when Willow and Cordelia sidled out together uncomfortably, heading towards Joe's study. It was a small but comfortable room, somewhat reminiscent of the library. It held a plain wooden desk on one side, a couch opposite it, and two armchairs. Every wall was lined with bookshelves, and every shelf was covered with books. Xander sprawled in an overstuffed chair, while Oz spread himself out on the couch. When the door opened, Xander leaped to his feet and Oz sat up straight, self-consciously brushing off the couch where his shoes had rested. Both relaxed when they saw who it was. "Hey, what happened?" asked Xander. "It worked. At least," Willow replied, "I think it did." "The sculpture sort of woke up and came alive. It did look like Angel," Cordelia said. She sat down heavily on the couch. "Yeah," Willow put in. "The only problem was, it didn't act much like Angel." "What did it do?" asked Oz after a pause, when it had become clear that no more information was forthcoming. "It started crying." answered Willow, going to sit on the arm of the couch near him. "Hard." "And then we left," Cordelia said. "I have no idea what's going on up there now. I just didn't feel like staying. Do you think we did the wrong thing?" "I don't know." Willow responded. "I guess I kinda feel like he would want his privacy, or something." No one said anything after that. The teenagers sat brooding for what seemed like hours, until Giles opened the door. They all jumped to their feet, asking questions, which he ignored. "Please, quiet down, all of you! Yes, the ceremony worked, Angel is human again, and I'll tell you all about it on the way home. Shall we go?" Part 22 Late the next night, as he had arranged, Giles heard a knock on the door. He opened it holding Buffy's letter. He took in the dark stranger lurking in the shadows; then, unexpectedly, handed him the letter. "Here. You have the right to see this now." The man in the doorway hesitated, then took the letter. "Will I want to read it?" he asked in a low voice. "I didn't say you would like it." Giles said a little sharply. "I said you had the right to see it." The man acknowledged this with a shrug and a half-smile. "Well, Giles? Aren't you going to invite me in?" Giles looked keenly at him. "No. Call it a test." The man laughed without mirth, and calmly walked into the room. Giles' eyebrows twitched. "Neat trick, huh?" the man said. "I can also cross running water, wear silver, go to church, all kinds of fun stuff. But you know what's best of all? I no longer have this weird compulsion to pick up every grain of rice after a wedding!" He gave a self-deprecating grin as Giles was startled into a short laugh. The man glanced around the room to his reflection in the mirror. "Ah, that's the best of all," he said contentedly. "Well," he considered, "that and lobster, with a light wine. Taken at noon. Outdoors. And look! I got a little sun today!" He held out his arm and almost chortled. Giles smiled, convinced. He offered his hand to the young man, who took it in a firm grip. "Giles, I owe you my life," he stated evenly. "Tell me how I can thank you?" Giles had had his answer ready for a long while. "You can go find my slayer and bring her home." The man looked puzzled, and Giles gestured toward the piece of paper in his hand. "Read the letter." The dark-haired man sat down and brought the lamp closer. He read the letter silently, then read it again. He folded it up and somberly handed it back. "I'll do it." He said. "I knew you would," said Giles. "Thank you, Angel." "No, not that." The said man impatiently. "Didn't you and the priest tell me that this was my chance for a fresh start? My name's Adam. 'Angel' seems a bit pretentious now, but I can certainly qualify for 'made of clay.'" He flashed his trademark half-smile. "Adam, then. It fits. How much do you remember?" "I remember everything," Adam said bleakly. "I remember Jenny Calendar, and Drusilla, and almost killing Buffy, and - yeah, I remember it all. "I also remember waking up in that church looking up at you and Joe. The nearest I've ever been to heaven was waking up then, with the sun in my face." He fell silent and expressionless. Giles said softly, "Yes, I remember." Angel - no, Adam, he corrected himself, had awakened lying in full sunlight, and had started sobbing as if his heart would break. This time he had had no merciful spell of amnesia to dull the pain. He'd been like a newborn baby, only laden with the guilt of centuries. Father Joe had baptized him right away, to cleanse him from original sign, and had christened him "Adam Christian Angelus." "Christian" was to keep him safe from evil; "Angelus" was because, although his past was forgiven, it would remain part of his personality; and "Adam" to show that he was just as human as everyone else, made from dust and clay. Giles came out of his reverie and said again, "It fits." Both men were silent for a moment, then Adam stirred. "So where is she?" he asked. "I really don't know. The letter was postmarked from New York, but letters from some of the surrounding towns go through that post office, so -" Giles left the statement hanging. "Don't worry about it. I can find her," Adam said confidently. "There's more," Giles said. He removed his glasses and wiped off a lens. "We think she may have, uh, had some dealings with Spike. He is mentioned in the letter, and also there was the... um, the tutu incident." He blushed, then swallowed and continued. "Apparently, Buffy and Spike had collaborated on a plan to ruin your-uh, I mean Angel's scheme and kill you. Him. I asked Buffy's mother about it, you see." "I remember," Adam said, absently rubbing the back of his skull. "He came after me with a crowbar. And you don't have to refer to me in the third person. I am Adam now, but Angel is still with me." He looked up with a twinkle in his eye. "The tutu line was pretty good," he admitted. "Yes, I was rather proud of that... at the moment." Giles said, slightly discomfited that Adam remembered even that. "Actually, I would rather like to forget that moment, if you don't mind - as you should." Adam nodded, his dark eyes preoccupied. He stood to leave. "Thank you, Giles. And don't worry. I'll find her." Part 23 Buffy's nights were slowly blending into one another. She got into a routine: wake up, contemplate killing Spike, then put down the stake and wonder why. Get a needle, drain off a little blood, fill a shot glass and put it on the table. Pour herself some cereal. The crinkle of the cereal bag always woke up Spike, who would crawl to the table bleary-eyed and pound down the shot of slayer blood. After that, he would be cheerful and as full of life as the undead can be. Then they'd go out, usually go somewhere different each night, always ending up at the park. Spike, because of a century-old habit of robbing his victims, had plenty of money to spend... so they spent. They went out for Chinese (Buffy ate, while Spike drank tea and eyed the waitress), they went to see the Statue of Liberty, the stores - and then they went to Central Park. This became their favorite haunt. It started the first night they went there, when Spike had wanted to kill a street person and Buffy hadn't let him. They had been arguing about it, yelling at each other nose to nose, when they were interrupted by a gang of three hulking tough kids that reminded Buffy of Larry. Two had knives and one carried a baseball bat. "You're trespassing on our property," the leader told them through a mouthful of broken teeth. "But I'll let you off this time, if you pay me the fine!" Buffy, incredulous, said, "You have GOT to be kidding!" She glanced at Spike. "You want to take it, or shall I?" "I got it," he said. He calmly told the kids, "First of all, this has just become our turf, not yours. Second, you're not nearly intimidating enough to pull off something like this, and third -" his face morphed into vampire guise, "-I am!" They began to back away slowly. "What are you?" asked one. "Hungry!" Spike answered with a toothy, monster's grin. They ran. Spike's face switched back to human, and looked disappointed. "Bugger," he said quietly. "I was feeling a little peckish!" Buffy just glared at him. Another night they went to see "6 Days, 7 Nights." Buffy always enjoyed a nice, uninterrupted ogle at Harrison Ford, and she was just sitting there enjoying the movie when she felt Spike's arm creeping around her shoulders. She shot him her usual glare, and he smiled at her in a way that decades of women must have told him made him look especially cute and innocent. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "Just flirting," he said. He saw her face and chuckled. "With death, it looks like." Buffy advised him in a furious whisper to keep his filthy undead hands to himself, to which he responded with a wounded look. "My undead hands are clean," he defended himself. "Literally, I've washed them. Metaphorically, I haven't taken a life in weeks!" Buffy still glared. "What about Drusilla?" He shrugged. In actuality, the memory of his dearly departed raven-haired raving whacko had begun to fade. In fact, he was finding the slayer much more entertaining to live with than Dru had ever been. True, he missed living blood - sometimes, that is; he neglected to tell Buffy about the wino he'd fed lightly from a few nights earlier. After all, he hadn't killed the man, so why worry the slayer needlessly? - but by and large, he was forced to admit, his life was much more interesting now. He didn't always have to walk on eggshells like he'd had to do with Dru; the slayer was certainly strong enough to take anything he could dish out! Plus it gave him a heightened sense of well-being, knowing how close she came to staking him every evening when she woke up. He always woke before she did, and lay there waiting to see if this would be the night. He'd be ready if she ever did strike, but she hadn't yet. He glanced at the diminutive but fierce-looking blonde beside him and whispered, "I don't count Drusilla. Do you?" Buffy looked at him oddly and turned her attention back to the movie, carefully ignoring his arm still around her. What on earth was he playing at, she wondered. Was he planning to attack her in the cinema? Or was he just leaning close for the kill? Was this some new sort of power play, trying to get her off guard? That was it, she decided. He just wanted the upper hand. She smiled grimly. If this was the game he wanted to play, she could play it too. And come out ahead. Part 24 The next night they walked through the park again, and as usual, got attacked. This time, it was by a guy alone, who seemed badly in need of his next drink. The huge pimply-faced thug walked up to them fearlessly, evidently thinking that the petite blonde and her slender companion looked like easy marks. "What do we have here?" Alcohol fumes drifted through the air as he spoke. "Looks like a slutty little cheerleader and her skinny little boyfriend. Let me have your money and I might let you live!" Spike bristled about being called little; he asked Buffy, "Come on, let me kill him! Just a little!" "No, Spike," Buffy said reluctantly. "I think I really want to beat this one up and hurt him. Just a little." The guy laughed. "Little girl, if your limey boyfriend is too much of a pussy to take me on, what makes you think you could?" Buffy shook her head in wonder at the man's stupidity. "Listen, you medieval-minded moron, he's more of a man than you'll ever be!" The guy swung at her. She ducked, and came up grinning. The guy never had a chance. A few seconds later he was bruised, crouching on the ground with blood coming from his nose. "Lucky shot," he growled. "Bitch!" "You know, I would not say such things if I were you," Spike remarked conversationally. He could smell the guy's dripping blood and it was driving him crazy. He looked pleadingly at the slayer. "Can I please hurt him now?" "Just don't kill him," Buffy said. "Remember our deal?" He nodded. She grinned mischievously, running her hands through her hair. "But if you want to bite him, I can look away." She turned her back. Spike fell upon the guy. A few minutes later, as they were walking away leaving the guy unconscious but alive, "I owe you, slayer." She grinned, feeling oddly comfortable with him for the first time. "Yeah, you do, don't you?" "Seriously. Thanks for defending me." She looked at him in surprise; she'd thought he was thanking her for letting him feed after so long. "Uh, sure. Likewise." In a long moment, in which Spike's heart would have been pounding loudly if it beat at all, he held out his hand to her. Blood rushing to her face, she looked at his hand, then up at his carefully expressionless face. She took a deep breath and put her hand in his. She felt the cool smooth skin against her palm. "Let's go home, Spike." She said. Together they walked back to the library. Part 25 Buffy's days and nights became increasingly filled with Spike. She thought of him almost all the time, telling herself it was normal for people who spent all their time together. Her morning meditations on "to stake or not to stake," gradually turned into contemplations of the lines of his body as he relaxed in sleep, the arch of his eyebrows, the shape of his lips. She thought of it as the predator's preoccupation with the prey, or as "beating him at his own game;" she didn't recognize her feelings for what they were. Until the morning he kissed her. She hadn't been able to get to sleep after they came home near dawn. For some reason the vampire hours she was keeping were beginning to irk her as the summer wore on, and she was restless. She rolled over and looked at Spike. The dim light from the windows in the next room fell on his face, highlighting his cheekbones but leaving his eyes in shadow, and shining on his platinum hair. On impulse, Buffy reached out and traced the line of his jaw with a feather-light touch. In a sudden movement, his hand caught hers, and his eyes opened. They stared at each other for what seemed like a very long time. Slowly, Spike turned his head and pressed a kiss against the inside of her wrist, and then let go of her hand. She pulled it in quickly. "Good night!" she said, and rolled over to fake somnolence. Spike cursed mentally. What the hell was going on with him? He had been prepared, as usual, for today to be the day she struck him with the stake. He hadn't been prepared for her gentle touch on his cheek, or for his own response to it. He remembered her tender expression when he had opened his eyes. His new plan of keeping her off balance did seem to be working; he just hadn't been expecting to lose his own equilibrium as well! Spike sighed and tried to go back to sleep. Breakfast the next evening was tense. Buffy woke up and, ignoring her usual ritual of Spike contemplation, poured her cereal. He got up and reached for the shot glass, but it wasn't there. He looked at her questioningly. "I've been thinking," she said, carefully avoiding his eyes. "We've been here for how many weeks now? Never mind. But every night we go to the park, we get attacked, and I don't let you kill the mean people because you get my blood instead. That doesn't make sense. Why should I bleed myself every night, just to save the lives of people who make a habit of hurting others?" Spike realized that her last comment could apply to himself just as well as to any of the park people, and he felt an unfamiliar emotion: shame. He sat down heavily. "Listen, Slayer, I -" "I'm not finished!" she said. She took a few bites of cereal while he waited patiently. She chewed and swallowed, then said, "This deal isn't working anymore. I've decided to leave." Spike felt like she'd punched him in the gut. "Uh, where do you plan to go?" "I don't know yet, but I think I've drained every last drop of fun out of living with a vampire, feeding him every night, and oh, God, I'm even using vampiric metaphors! Plus I've read every book in the place!" Spike's eyebrows lifted. "I doubt that," he said. There was a long silence, while he considered the plan that had been niggling in the back of his mind for the past couple of days while he lay awake wishing he could get her out of his mind so he could sleep. It wouldn't have been quite so bad if he hadn't known that her sleep patterns were disturbed, too. He flattered himself into thinking it was because of him, but in truth he didn't know how she felt about him. The power game they had started playing had grown and metamorphosed - and backfired. "So, tonight when we go out, you have my permission to feed if you want to. You're just not getting any more of mine!" Buffy broke the silence. His answer stunned her. "No." "What did you say?" "No. I'm not feeding on anyone." "Are you nuts? You'll die without a regular supply of blood!" "And you don't want me to die?" His tone made her look up, into his dark eyes. She said nothing, and looked away again. He crossed over to where she was sitting, and very gently lifted her face so he could see her eyes. He caressed her cheek tenderly. "Buffy," he whispered. Her eyes widened at his use of her name for the first time. She stood up and tried to back away. "Um, Spike, I -" He didn't let her escape. Instead, he leaned down and softly kissed her lips. His quick reflexes blocked the punch she aimed at his chin, and he planted a kiss on her fist. Gently he lowered her back into the chair and sat down next to her. "Buffy, I think it's time for us to discuss our options." Part 26 Giles' phone rang shrilly, and he got up swiftly to answer it. He thought it might have been Adam, calling to say he was in New York; he was not prepared to hear Buffy's voice... and he was certainly not prepared for her request. "Give a vampire back his soul? Buffy, where are you? What are you talking about? Whose soul?" "Spike's. I want to know the ritual to give Spike back his soul." Very quietly, as if she'd muffled the phone, he heard her say, "He's mad. I don't know if he'll do it or not." "Buffy, who are you talking to? What is going on?" Giles was angry. Except for her letter, he hadn't heard from her at all since she left. He hadn't known where she was, what she was doing, or anything. The tone of his voice made it clear to her that he wasn't giving out any information until she came up with some answers. She sighed. "I'm all right, Giles. I'm not ready to tell you where I am yet, but I really need to know if I could perform the ritual, or if I need someone else, or what? I know Willow did it on Angel, and it worked. I just want to know if it's possible to do it on Spike too?" "I - I don't know." Giles managed to say. His mind whirled with the various implications of what she didn't say: where is she? Where is Spike? Does she know about Angel? Has he found her yet? "Let me ask around and get back to you. Uh, how can I reach you?"" "Tricky, Giles. I said I wasn't ready yet. I'll call you back tomorrow night. I have to hang up now, the lib - uh, there's someone waiting for the phone. Bye!" An intercom announcement almost drowned out her last sentence, and she hung up hurriedly. Giles hung up his telephone, dumbstruck. He had recognized the voice of the woman on the intercom! He hadn't heard it in a couple of years, but it was unmistakable - as was the gist of the announcement she had made: "Attention, ladies and gentlemen, the library will be closing in five minutes..." Giles leaped to his feet, found his address book and dialed an out of state number. "Uh, hello? May I speak to Linda, please? Yes, I'll wait. "Linda? This is Rupert Giles. Yes, yes, fine, thanks. How - How are you? Fine, good, good. Yes, I know it's been a long time. Listen, I need your help with something. You remember that photo I showed you a few Christmases ago, of the new slayer I was assigned? Good. Uh, Would you recognize her again? I have reason to believe she might be there now. If you see her, call me back. Yes, I'll be here. Thank you!" He spent a tense few minutes waiting for the phone to ring. When it did, he snatched it out of the cradle. "He-hello? Yes, it's I. She is? Thank you, Linda! She's with whom? A man who resembles... uh, who is Billy Idol?" He scowled at the reply. "Well if you're just going to laugh at me... No, there is nothing wrong with my musical tastes! Yes, Linda, yes. Thank you for your help. Good-bye." The next morning, Willow and Xander found Giles alone in the library brooding. "Morning!" Willow said cheerily. "I got your message last night, but I got in too late to call. What's up?" "I got a call from Buffy last night," he told her. "She says she's all right, but she didn't tell me where she was. I found out from another source." "Angel? I mean, Adam?" Willow wondered. "So where is she?" Xander demanded. "Has he found her yet?" "Uh, no. At least, I don't think so, or she would have mentioned it. She was in the New York City Library, apparently with some gent who resembles Billy Idol, whoever that is." "Oh, my god!" Willow said. She and Xander looked at each other in horror. "Uh, who is this Billy Idol?" Giles asked. Willow went and fired up the computer, finding a website dedicated to the rock star. "Well, if it helps, Giles, here's his picture," she offered. "Which means she's probably with -" "Spike," Giles finished. "What on earth..." he dropped his head in his hands. Willow cast a concerned glance at her friend, then went to Giles. "Giles, what's wrong? What did Buffy say?" she asked. "She asked me to tell her the ritual to give a vampire back his soul," he said. "Specifically, Spike's. I told her I would ask you about it and get back to her. She's calling me again tonight." "She wants to give Spike back his soul?" "Why?" Xander demanded. "Why doesn't she just kill him?" "Perhaps there are other issues, Xander. After all, we know very little about her situation since she left." Giles said. "Yeah, right. Hey, maybe she hates him too much to kill him, and wants him to suffer guilt and pain like Angel did." Xander brightened at the thought. "Or maybe," Willow thought out loud, "Maybe she doesn't WANT to kill him." She caught the questioning looks of the other two and explained further. "As far as she knows, Angel is dead. Maybe she's starting to like Spike instead?" "Willow, that's sick. Twisted, even. Why would she want to date another vampire guy? I mean, you think she'd learn her lesson." Xander opened Willow's purse while he spoke, and rummaged through it. He found a box of tic-tacs and helped himself to some. "And anyway, New York isn't even the hellmouth! How could something like that possibly happen in a place that doesn't even have a hellmouth?" "I'm sure I don't know. But if the slayer wants a vampire to get his soul back, for whatever reason, it's not really our place to, uh, refuse. Willow, do you think the ritual is possible for Spike? If he and Buffy are, um, spending time together, it might be safer for her if we -- " "Oh, sure, I get you," Willow affirmed. "Well... I could try the ritual here, but I have no way of knowing what kind of effect it'll have so far away. I think it would be possible, but there needs to be some sort of connection there, where Spike is. I think I can..." she stopped talking, thinking furiously. "Yeah, I think it would be possible. All I need is the same stuff as before, and some basic information about Spike. Can I borrow some of your books, maybe your... watcher journals?" she wheedled. She'd been itching to get her fingers on those journals for a long time. Giles smiled indulgently. He was biding his time until the Watcher Council would allow him to tell Willow her destiny. Meanwhile, it certainly wouldn't hurt her to have some exposure to the materials, premature as it might be. He nodded. Part 27 Buffy was out walking in the sunlight. Once again she hadn't been able to sleep. She went out to feel the sunlight, to look around at other people - ones who didn't attack her in the park, for a change - and to spend some time on her own away from Spike, so she could sort through her strange and unfamiliar feelings towards him. She walked aimlessly, and thought hard. The first thing she decided was that this had nothing to do with Angel. Thought he had been her first love, he was gone now. She still felt sorry, but no longer felt any guilt. If Angel - her Angel - had known the true situation, he would have thrown himself onto the sword and into hell of his own accord. Buffy was beginning to accept his loss, and even beginning to think about plans for the rest of her life. Her early days with Spike had been an uneasy truce, but they had gotten to know each other much better, and had both grown and changed as a result of their time together. She knew she had a much better sense of humor about the burden of being who she was, and she knew that he had also changed. The Spike she'd met last fall wouldn't have even thought about making the deal they had made, and certainly wouldn't have shown any discipline regarding when and on whom he fed. She had never been so shocked in her life as when he had suggested the restoration ritual last night. Had stood by while she made her phone call to Giles, and had explained later that, since he was already living an "angelic" lifestyle (she smiled sadly at the expression) and not killing anyone, getting his soul back would only make it easier for him. He'd have his own conscience to answer to, instead of just the wishes of his roommate/guardian. An "ally," was how he put it. She shook her head in wonder at the thought that he'd be willing to go through all that just to be with her. By this point in her thoughts, she was sitting alone on a park bench, enjoying the fresh air, the sunlight, and not getting attacked by gang members or winos. She closed her eyes and let the sunlight fall on her face. She smiled, stretched, opened her eyes - and screamed as loud as she could. And ran. She burst into the basement lounge at the library, startling Spike awake and into his game face. He changed back when he saw it was she, and looked curiously at her. "What's wrong, luv? You look like you've seen a ghost!" She collapsed on the end of his sofa and struggled to maintain her composure. "I think maybe I have," she said. She took a few long, shuddering breaths and began to calm down. Spike put a tentative arm around her, and when she didn't object, drew her close. "It's all right, baby. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it," he stroked her hair. She shook her head. "You don't understand. Spike, the ghost was Angel. I swear I saw Angel out there in the park just now. Standing in front of me in the sunlight!" She rested her forehead on his shoulder and sighed. "I went out to the park to spend some time by myself... well, and to think about 'us,' and there he was. Maybe I'm going crazy. I didn't think I was still hung up on him, but maybe I am if I've started seeing his ghost outdoors in sunlight." On an impulse, and to give Spike some reassurance, she kissed his neck where it joined the shoulder. Spike's body stiffened and she drew back, afraid she'd offended him. "You're right, pet," Spike said in a very strange voice. "It's much more natural to see him indoors under florescent lights!" He drew away from Buffy and moved aside so she could see. She took one look at the dark-haired man standing in the doorway - and then the two men got treated to a sight that few people have ever seen: Buffy, Vampire Slayer Extraordinaire, fainted dead away on the floor. Part 28 Spike caught her before she hit the floor and laid her down gently on one of the couches. He sat down at the table and glanced up expectantly. "So, Angel... how was hell? I see you got a tan." Angel stayed in the doorway. "Hello, Spike. May I come in?" "Sure, sure," Spike gestured expansively around as if it were a mansion. "So you still need an invitation, do you?" "Not really. I was being polite," Adam responded with a half-smile. He came in and sat across the table from Spike. "First time for everything, I guess," Spike commented. "Spike, what's going on?" Adam cut right to the chase. Spike gave him a sharp glance. "What, do I look like I owe you anything? I rather think you're the one with all the explaining to do!" A rustling sound behind Spike told them that Buffy was starting to return to herself. Spike got a bottle of water from the little refrigerator and went to her. "Here, pet," he said as she opened her eyes. "Feeling better?" She groaned. "Spike, is Angel -" "Yeah, he's here, luv," Spike told her grimly. "If you feel up to joining us, we were just about to start story hour." Buffy caught sight of Adam sitting calmly at the table and straightened. Her eyes took on that measuring expression she wore when she hunted. "Yeah, I'm fine." Her voice, like her expression, was hard. She took a third chair, carefully choosing the end of the table away from Adam's right hand. She was familiar enough with Angel's fighting patterns to know that he always struck with his right fist first. "Buffy," Adam said softly. "It's good to see you again." His eyes shone with strong emotion, but the rest of his face was expressionless and his body was relaxed. He took in her new "look" and filed it away mentally to ask her about later, maybe on their way back to Sunnydale and safely away from Spike. Her hair was flat and brittle-looking above pale skin. He might have seen her in the sun today, but he'd bet she didn't see much of it. There were dark circles under her eyes and she was very thin. The skin at her wrists was almost transparent; the veins were visible and blue. Her arms - he raised his eyebrows - her arms were covered with needle track marks! "Thanks," she said shortly. "So, story hour, huh? Can't wait. You go first." "Buffy, what -" Adam started to ask, but Spike interrupted. "Tsk, tsk, you heard the lady, Angelus. You go first." His eyes were threatening. "Maybe you can start with what you're doing here... with a heartbeat." Adam sighed. Fine, he'd play it their way. He gave them a quick summary of his experiences. He explained how his soul had been in torment and his body burned away, when Giles, Willow, and the rest had called his soul out of hell and given it a new, human body to inhabit. He told about his baptism and his new name, and ended his tale with Giles' direction to find the slayer and bring her home. "So that's why I'm here," he finished. "It was pure luck that I saw you in the park just now and followed you here." "Yeah. Sure was lucky!" Buffy muttered. She glanced at Spike who seemed, somehow, even paler than usual. "Your turn. Tell him." Spike's usual bravado was gone. In a dull, flat voice he told his story. He addressed his story to Adam, but kept his eyes mostly on the slayer. "I had made a deal with the slayer to help her kill you, in return for letting me go free with Dru. I'd had enough of watching you and her together; also, I didn't really want the world to end. So..." and he told about his shock upon seeing Buffy on the airplane, of Drusilla's death, of the agreement that he wouldn't hunt in New York as long as Buffy kept him fed. "And that's the way it's been until a couple of days ago, when I realized I'd fallen in love with her." Adam was thunderstruck. This he hadn't expected. "You - you love her? The slayer?" "Yeah, what of it?" Spike said irritably. "You did, after all." Adam looked at Buffy, whose eyes were locked to Spike's. She took Spike's hand in hers for a moment, then looked at Adam with expressionless eyes. Adam sighed. "Yes, I did," he said, watching her. "Buffy, there's a flight leaving in two hours out of LaGuardia. If you pack your things now, we can be in Sunnydale by tomorrow morning." Buffy had been examining Adam while he talked. Now she spoke. "So Cordelia made the body for you, huh? She certainly is..." her eyes raked up and down his frame, "...observant." Her voice had a bit of a jealous edge to it. "I've no complaints about it," Adam said, smiling. "It's close enough to the one I had that I barely notice the differences. Also when I get a sunburn now, it only turns pink instead of to ashes!" Spike muttered "Show-off!" under his breath. Adam either ignored his or hadn't heard. "Do you need any help packing?" he asked Buffy. "Listen, Angel, aren't you rushing things a little? What makes you think I'm going back?" Spike smiled; she really was his kind of girl. He chimed in, "Yeah, 'Adam,' at least give the lady a choice! Why don't you take your sunburn and your soul and your bloody heartbeat back to Sunnydale and leave us alone!" Buffy rounded on him. "And what makes you think I'm staying here? You guys are both such, such, guys! At least give me a choice!" "That's what I said, pet!" The tension of the discussion had finally gotten to Spike. He stood up. "But then, there's really not much of a choice, is there? Gee, does the slayer stay in a strange city with a bloodsucking demon-fiend, or does she go with her old boyfriend - who is NOT a bloodsucking demon-fiend anymore - back to her friends and family and do what she's good at? Oh, the dilemma! Which one should she choose?" He pushed violently past Adam's chair and left the room. Part 29 "Wow," Adam commented. "He seems upset." Buffy gave him one of her "no DUH!" glares. "Well, think about it, Angel; you took his last girlfriend away from him, too!" He looked down. "Oh. That's true." He looked up again. "Buffy, can you ever forgive me for... the things I did after we... for the uh - " She cut him off. "Hey - no problem. It wasn't really you, after all. I mean, you're really a whole different person now, aren't you? Got a whole new name and everything. Guess I should start calling you Adam now, huh?" He smiled, and reached out to gently touch her cheek. For a moment, she closed her eyes and submitted to the caress, then suddenly backed away. "Listen, Ange - uh, Adam, I really don't want to rush into anything here." He started to speak, but she kept talking over him. "Or maybe I should be more specific and say I don't want to rush away from anything here." She emphasized the last word and looked at him meaningfully. She sighed. "Please understand, I just need some time to think." She stood up. "I'm going out for an hour. You stay here. Please? And when Spike comes back, try not to kill each other. If you do, I'll have a special stake for the survivor, and I don't care if he has a heartbeat or not!" She turned on her heel and left. She found Spike pacing moodily in the entranceway, glaring out at the sunlight. "I thought you'd gone," she said. "Yeah, luv, I'm just going to strut right out this door and go for a walk!" He glared at her, then back at the sunlight outside. "Oh, yeah. Sorry," she offered. Getting to business, she said, "I left him downstairs and asked him not to kill you. If you go back down, please refrain from killing him as well. I'm going out for a while." "Yeah, better order those airline tickets before they run out of seats and then you'd have to stay another day!" he sneered. "Fine, I won't kill your precious lover. After all, isn't that your job?" She slapped him across the face as hard as she could, and marched out the door into the sunlight before he could react. Brooding, he watched her walk across the street away from the library and out of sight. Spike went back down to the basement lounge and sat down across the table from Adam, who hadn't moved. He reflected that he was getting pretty good at these awkward silences. "Spike, I'm sorry about Drusilla," said Adam. The icebreaking comment intrigued Spike, who raised a quizzical eyebrow. Adam continued, "It's just that - well, I was a soul-less monster, and I was just doing what soul-less monsters do." "Monsters like me, you mean," Spike stated. Adam had the grace to flush. "I didn't mean that," he said uncomfortably. "You're right. The way I treated you was unconscionable. Of course, the fact that I didn't have a conscience might have had something to do with it but doesn't excuse it." He looked up again with a pained expression. Spike wasn't sure what to say. "Right, well. Dru's dead now, so it hardly matters, does it?" "I guess not. What does matter is Buffy." "Yeah, what of her?" "I want to take her home." Adam told him evenly. "Yeah, well, I want to keep her here. Guess it's up to her, isn't it?" Spike shifted his weight in the chair. "Might be different if that bleedin' ritual works, but as it is I think we both know which she'll choose." He was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "Damn." "What ritual is this?" Adam said suspiciously. "The Romany re-soulling curse, what else?" Spike told him. "Didn't you know? She called her Watcher last night to ask him about it. I thought he would've told you." "I haven't contacted him yet," Adam told him. He leaned forward. "Tell me." Spike rolled his eyes. He still felt a bit silly even talking about it, but, "Things have been, uh, tense between us for a couple of weeks, so yesterday, she threatened to leave. I told her how I felt and asked her to stay; even offered to do that restoration thingie if she wanted me to. So she called Giles last night to ask if it were possible, because she knew it happened before. With you." Adam looked away. "Yeah, it did work. Willow did it, with a couple of others. But Spike, you're three thousand miles away! How could it work here?" "That's what the Watcher was supposed to find out for us." Adam rose to his feet. "I was supposed to call him this morning anyway. Let's do it now, and see if there's any new information for you about the restoration ritual. But let me tell you something, my friend: it HURTS!" "I can live with that." Spike recalled his first few days in the wheelchair and shuddered. He leveled his gaze at Adam. "Why do you want to help me with this?" Adam's eyes took on a faraway look. "Living with the soul and the demon constantly striving against each other was the hardest thing I've ever done. But it sure beat living without the soul! The gypsies meant it as a curse, and it was, but it also turned out to be a blessing. If I could do that for you, I would. Might make up for how I treated you." His voice lowered. Spike glanced at him. "Thought we agreed Dru didn't matter now." "I wasn't talking about Dru this time," Adam said. "I meant you. I'm your sire, the one who took away your soul in the first place. I'd like to try and give it back." "Much obliged," Spike muttered, embarrassed. "Fine, let's go call Giles." Part 30 When they got upstairs to the pay phone, there was already someone on the phone, and another woman waiting to use it. They got in line behind her. Spike tapped his foot impatiently. The woman was holding a child over her shoulder, full in Spike's line of vision. Casually, he checked around and, when he saw no one was watching, slipped on his vampire game face and smiled toothily at the toddler. Seconds later he stepped forward and took the woman's place in line as she hurried away trying to calm her frightened, hysterical child. "Nice." Adam said, amused. He'd seen the whole thing. The guy in front of them hung up and left, and Adam stepped up and dialed. Rupert Giles sat down and rubbed his eyes. The last five minutes of his life had been a whirlwind. He seriously regretted having even answered the phone when Adam called! His end of the conversation had consisted mostly strangled sounds and gasps. Finally, when he got his wits back, he asked, "Adam, just let me get this straight. You found Buffy. She's been living with Spike. Drusilla is dead, and Spike is in love with Buffy. Do I have it all?" "Don't forget about the deal they made that Buffy would keep him fed if he stopped hunting others," Adam reminded him. "Oh yes, of course," Giles sighed, taking off his glasses. "How could I forget that?" His mind was spinning - or was that the room? "Adam?" He called. Then a new voice came on, but still one he recognized. "Giles, this is Spike. You've heard the whole story by now. Any word on that ritual?" This, Giles thought, was the dizzy limit (sometimes his mind came up with expressions that his mouth would never say). "Spike? What ritual?" He asked, stalling for time. He was fairly certain that if Spike knew Buffy was planning to curse him with a soul, she might be in great danger. "Come on, Mister Librarian, don't play dumb with me," Spike growled. "You told the slayer you were going to look into it and let us know if it were possible. Well, with Sherlock-bleedin'-Angelus-Holmes here she's not even around, so you'll have to tell me. Is it possible?" "Uh, yes," Giles said, startled into a reply. "Good." Spike said. "What do we need to know?" Shaking his head in wonder at the thought that Spike actually wanted the ritual performed, Giles told him. "Good," Spike said again. "See to it. I'll handle things on this end. And Giles? No loopholes this time, mate. Just in case? Right." He hung up the phone and grabbed Adam's arm. "Come with me, chum. We have a job of work to do before she gets back." Giles carefully rested the telephone back in its cradle. Quickly, he picked it up again and dialed. "Willow? It's Giles. Can you and the others meet me in the library in an hour or so? I have news." Willow arrived in the library red-eyed. Concerned, Giles asked her, "Are you all right? You look... upset." "Yes. No. I'm fine. Well, I'm not fine in the sense that Oz just broke up with me, but I'm fine in the sense that I still want to help." Willow explained carefully, and blew her nose. "Oh. I'm sorry. But I'm glad you're here," Giles was pretty sure that covered all the bases. "Where are the others?" "Xander and Cordelia were on their way over. They should both be here any time." "And any time, my dear Willow, is now!" Xander announced from the doorway. "Oh, hi. Where's Queen C?" asked Willow. Xander grimaced. "She decided to go to the mall instead, this afternoon. I think she's taking a break from all things vampiric for the summer." Willow gave a ladylike snort. "Wish WE all could!" "So, um, what are we doing?" Xander asked. Giles told them about Spike's call. "Willow, are you ready? Can you do it this afternoon?" She nodded. "Yeah, I figured out how to do it. I just need a couple of assistants." "You have them. Let's, uh, 'just do it.'" "Why, Giles! You've been watching television! Good for you!" Xander applauded.
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