Fix You by Enigmaticblue

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures where the First is involved. In order to prevent the end of the world, Buffy asks Willow to do a spell that's supposed to fix everything, and Spike goes along for the ride.

Chapter 6: Getting Even

Willow sank into her seat next to Oz at the lunch table gratefully. Buffy had been a grouch all morning, and it was a relief to have a buffer. It was also nice to be able to have lunch with her boyfriend and her best friend all at once. They didn't get the chance nearly as often as she'd like.

"Rough morning?" Oz asked in a low voice.

"Spike and Buffy had a fight," Willow replied.

Buffy plopped down next to Willow. "I can hear you, you know."

Willow made a face. "It's not my fault you've been Miss Crankypants."

"No, it's Spike's fault," Buffy replied.

Willow raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you were the one who yelled at him.

"He yelled first," Buffy said stubbornly.

Oz raised his eyebrows. "I take it you guys aren't coming to the Bronze, then."

Buffy frowned. "That's tonight?" She made a face. "My days are all turned around."

Willow nodded. "Are you going to come? Xander has to work tonight, so if you don't, I'll be sitting by myself." She couldn't keep the wistful note out of her voice. It had been a long time since the gang had been together, and Willow missed the closeness they'd had in high school.

Buffy smiled. "Of course I'll come."

"And Spike?" Willow asked. "You could ask him, kinda like a peace offering."

Buffy sighed. "Yeah. I probably should apologize anyway."

Oz managed to look amused, even though his expression didn't change much. "I thought you said it was Spike's fault."

"It was," Buffy said. "But that doesn't mean I should have said what I did." She glanced down at her tray. "You know, I'm really not all that hungry. I'll see you guys tonight."

Willow and Oz watched her leave. "She's been like that all day."

Oz looked at her. "Big fight then?"

Willow shook her head. "Not really. I think that Buffy just doesn't like Spike not talking to her."

"Makes sense," Oz observed. "I don't like it when we're not talking."

"Me neither," Willow agreed. "Did you know what Buffy was talking about when she mentioned Veruca?"

Oz shrugged. "The only Veruca I know is the lead singer for 'Shy.' They play at the Bronze sometimes."

Willow searched his face, wondering if there wasn't a little more to it. "Okay."

He reached for her hand. "Hey. I know to watch out for her now."

Willow nodded, although she wasn't terribly reassured. She wondered how much of the future was immutable, and how much Buffy's knowledge would change.

~~~~~

Spike's intention, once he converted some of his treasure into cash, was to go looking for furniture, among other things. The problem was that every time he tried to make a mental list of things he needed, he remembered sitting on the sarcophagus with Dawn, or having sex with the Buffybot.

Spike remembered the shrine he'd made from the mannequin and items he'd filched from Buffy, chaining up the Slayer and her telling him that he hadn't a chance. Once again he saw Captain Cardboard come striding in, and Buffy believing the soldier's side of things without giving him a chance to explain.

The explosion, Buffy's face when she told him that it was over, when she told him that his feelings were real—for him.

Dawn's words when she told him how he'd hurt Buffy by sleeping with Anya.

Spike had thought he could come back here; it had seemed the easiest route, and he had liked the crypt. It had suited him and his needs just fine, but now...

There were too many memories, and few of them were good.

Spike ran his hand over the cold stone. Even with the soul, he was still a monster, but Buffy made him want to be a man—now more than ever before. The crypt was part of that image, and Spike wondered if it was such a good idea to cling to it. After all, they'd gone back in time to try to fix what had gone wrong.

Trying to convince Buffy to join him in the darkness hadn't worked, and Spike knew now that it had been the wrong tactic to use.

He looked down at the ring on his finger, and knew that it would allow him to join Buffy in the daylight—if that was what he wanted.

Spike looked around the interior of the crypt, and then turned his back on his memories, heading back out into the sunny morning.

There might not be any hope for his relationship with Buffy, but Spike could at least choose to make a fresh start for himself.

~~~~~

"Spike?" Buffy called, entering the crypt. "Are you here?" She'd already called her mom, and Joyce had said that Spike had left early that morning. He'd told her that he had a lot to get done, but Joyce had commented that Spike had seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

Buffy sighed, turning slowly to look around the crypt. So far, it didn't look like he'd done much with the place; she certainly couldn't see any improvements.

Wandering over to the trap door that led down to the lower level, she peered down into the hole. There was no light, which indicated that Spike wasn't down there either.

"What are you doin' here, Slayer?" Spike asked from behind her.

Buffy whirled, startled by his voice. She hadn't heard him coming, and she silently berated herself for letting down her guard in a cemetery. "Looking for you," she said, keeping her voice as even as possible.

Spike watched her evenly. "You need a partner for patrol tonight? Or are you here to rip me a new one again?"

"I didn't mean what I said, Spike." Buffy felt the same frustration well up again. She wanted to be able to talk to him, to be able to say what she meant without him getting angry or upset.

Buffy wanted to go back to the time when they could communicate through silence alone. Maybe she and Spike had gone back in time, but it was clear that they'd dragged their baggage with them.

He sighed, sounding a little exasperated. "I know. Let's forget it ever happened."

It wasn't what she wanted, but Buffy knew better than to argue when Spike used that tone of voice. He was really impossible to talk to when he was in a bad mood. "Fine. Oz's band is playing at the Bronze tonight."

"Yeah, he mentioned it the other day," Spike said. "You want me to patrol for you?"

Buffy frowned. How the hell could Spike be so obtuse? "Um, no. I wanted you to go with me. We can patrol later tonight. Or maybe let the Initiative deal with the things that go bump in the night."

Spike stared at her. "You want to what?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "For you. To come to the Bronze. With me." She spoke slowly and used small words so that Spike couldn't mistake her meaning. Maybe she should try to apologize again. "What I said last night—it didn't come out right."

"Yeah, I know." Spike scratched the back of his head, staring at the floor.

"So, you need any help getting this place set up?" Buffy asked, waving at the interior of the crypt. "Mom said you had a lot to do today."

Spike shrugged. "I changed my mind."

Buffy frowned. "About what?"

"About this." Spike shoved his hands in his pockets. "Found another place that'll be better."

Buffy was a little surprised, given how reluctant Spike had been to pay rent on a place. "Okay. Where is it?"

"You want to see it?" he asked.

"Well, duh." Buffy rolled her eyes. "It would be nice to know where to find you." She frowned. "But if you're not staying here, why—"

"Called Willow," Spike said, anticipating her question. "She said she thought you might be tryin' to get in contact with me."

Buffy smiled. "Are we okay?"

"Yeah, Summers. We're fine."

Buffy wished he sounded a little more certain about that.

~~~~~

Spike watched Buffy's face anxiously as she did a slow turn to see the apartment. "It's nice."

"It'll do." Although he could have had more windows, Spike didn't want to advertise the fact that he had the Gem of Amara. There were plenty of people who would be very suspicious if they found out that Spike, Slayer of Slayers, was living in a place with a southern exposure.

Besides, since it was a basement apartment, it was cheap, and he'd negotiated for a six month lease in case it didn't work out.

The place was reasonably spacious, however, and Spike could tell that it had been remodeled recently. He would miss the tunnel access, but with the ring it wasn't necessary. And if this place did work out—

Well, the Bit would be showing up in less than a year, and it was a lot safer for her to come here than to a cemetery, even during the day.

"It came furnished?" Buffy asked, plopping down on the dark brown, overstuffed couch.

Spike shook his head. "Found the furniture at a second hand shop."

"It's comfy." Buffy ran her hand over the plush fabric. "Which shop?"

"It's a demon shop," Spike admitted. "Best not to ask where they get their stuff most of the time."

Buffy winced. "Right."

"Not like I can do anything about it now," Spike defended himself. He'd debated, but it was cheap, and he didn't want to go back to the cave with the treasure any time soon. The more often he visited, the greater chance there was that someone else would find it.

She shook her head. "It's fine, Spike. It's not like you did anything wrong to get it." Buffy frowned. "Wait a minute. How did you get the money for this place?"

Spike held up the hand with the ring on it. "There was plenty where this came from. I only took what I needed, though. Save the rest for a rainy day."

Buffy leaned her head back against the couch. "I should probably let you know that we're going to have some trouble in a few nights with Neanderthals."

Spike frowned. "Literally, or figuratively?"

"Pretty much literally. There's magic beer involved." Buffy sighed, adding in a rueful voice, "Thankfully, I won't be drinking it this time, because that was not pretty."

Spike's eyes widened. He'd seen Buffy drunk before, and it had been highly amusing. At least until she'd freed his kittens. "You? What did you do?"

"Other than make a complete fool out of myself?" Buffy smiled nostalgically. "I don't remember, but Willow told me that I hit Parker over the head with a big stick."

"Too bad you'll miss the opportunity this time." Spike's mind was already working out a way to stick it to the wanker. While he hadn't cared the first time around, Spike thought it might be nice to teach the boy a lesson.

Or at least make it a lot harder for him to get laid.

"And there's the haunted house that's really haunted," Buffy said. "I'll have to warn Oz about the magic symbol."

"When's that?" Spike asked, sitting down next to her on the couch.

Buffy scooted over so she could rest her head against his shoulder. "Halloween. Want to be my date?"

Spike swallowed. "What?"

"Date." Buffy shot him a look. "Do I need to spell it out for you?"

Spike's eyes narrowed. "Do I have to dress up?"

Buffy grinned at him, and the pure delight in her eyes both warmed him and scared him to death. "Would you?"

"What if I said no?"

"Then I probably wouldn't go to the party," Buffy said.

Spike brought the demon forward. "Could go like this."

"You could." Buffy's hand came up to touch his cheek, and Spike felt his face shift back. "I'll probably still go as Little Red Riding Hood."

Spike smirked. "Then maybe I should go as the big bad wolf."

"Maybe you should." She pulled his head down gently, meeting his lips with her own.

He reveled in the tenderness of her touch; it took the sting out his dreams of the night before and the memories of his failures.

Even if he knew it would only last until Buffy changed her mind once again.

~~~~~

Buffy made her way through the crowd at the Bronze. Most Friday nights were packed, but the club seemed even busier tonight. She glanced over her shoulder to look at Spike when she felt the tug on her hand. "You want something to drink?" he asked.

"Sure," Buffy replied. "Diet Coke?"

"No beer?"

"A world of no," she said, rolling her eyes when he smirked.

Spike pulled away from her, and Buffy finished making her way to the table where Willow was already sitting. "Hey there."

"Hey!" Willow perked up when Buffy sat down next to her. "Was that Spike I saw with you?"

Buffy shrugged, trying to keep the smugness out of her voice. "Yeah. We made up."

Willow raised one eyebrow archly. "Really? Was there kissing involved in the making up?"

Buffy could feel herself blushing, and she knew that she wasn't going to get away with lying. "Maybe."

While making out had been a prominent feature of the afternoon, they had also spent time talking, working out a plan for the next few months. It was difficult to look ahead any further than that, but Buffy wanted to be prepared, and she had more information than Spike did. It was important to her that he knew what to expect as well.

Just sitting on his couch, though, talking idly, without having to worry about the next emergency, or a bunch of potentials...

She was finding being back here a little like taking a vacation.

Willow grinned knowingly, obviously sensing that there was good gossip at hand. "What else did you guys do?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter!" Buffy said. "We just went to see his new apartment and talked. It was nice not to rush to the next emergency."

Willow smirked. "Does that mean you guys are dating now?"

For a moment, Buffy considered lying, telling Willow that the kiss didn't mean anything. She remembered how well hiding her relationship with Spike had gone last time. "We're definitely doing something," she admitted. "It's a little complicated, though."

"Isn't it always?" Willow asked.

"Here you are, luv," Spike said, setting Buffy's drink down in front of her and a blooming onion in the middle of the table. Retrieving a bottle of beer from his duster, he pulled up a seat. "Didn't ask if you wanted anythin', Red."

Willow shook her head. "I'm good."

Buffy was quiet, wondering how much Spike had heard of what she'd said to Willow. "Is Oz playing every Friday night?" she asked, wanting to change the subject.

Willow nodded. "Pretty much. They have to work around the full moon thing, but that's not too hard." She scowled. "Veruca's band has been practicing after Oz's a lot lately, though."

"Don't worry about it, Will," Buffy assured her friend. "I'm not going to let her get her paws on Oz this time." She glanced over at Spike, hoping he didn't mind the foray into girl talk. He appeared to be happy munching on his blooming onion while listening to the music and the conversation, however.

"What if Oz wants her paws on him?" Willow asked, sounding uncertain. "I mean, it takes two, right? So if he wants—"

"He doesn't want," Buffy said firmly. "Trust me. Veruca is a skank."

Willow didn't look convinced. "But—"

"Oz isn't that kind of guy." Buffy was certain of that; if she could just keep Veruca away from him, she would be able to save Willow's relationship. She was there to fix things, and that's what she was going to do; it was just that simple.

She hoped.

~~~~~

Spike caught the disgusted expression on Willow's face, and he leaned in close to her. "Somethin' wrong?"

Buffy had gone to the bathroom, and Spike was trying to decide if he had the nerve to ask Buffy for a dance. She and Willow had danced together earlier, but he hadn't joined them. Spike had said that he wanted to save their table, but mostly he didn't want to risk another rejection.

Especially not after the afternoon they'd just spent together.

Willow had seemed to be okay with his presence, though, and so her change in expression had surprised him. Spike hoped that it wasn't anything to do with him.

"It's not you," she assured him, sensing his confusion. "It's that poop head, Parker Abrams. He just walked in."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He couldn't keep the delighted smile off his face. "Where?"

Willow frowned, puzzled at his reaction. "Over there," she replied, pointing. "In the red shirt."

He smirked. "Be right back."

"Wait. What are you going to do?"

Spike shrugged. "Just goin' to get another drink. You want somethin'?"

Willow shook her head silently. "No, that's okay."

Spike did exactly what he'd told her he would do and wandered over to the bar, ordering another beer. He paid, and then took the scenic route back to their table. Of course, that took him right past Parker's table, where he was sitting with a pretty brunette.

Spike stopped right in front of the table, acting as though he'd just recognized the boy. "You," he growled. "I don't believe you've got the nerve to show your face."

The girl looked startled, glancing between Spike and Parker, who was obviously confused. "Do I know you?"

"You bloody well should!" Spike exclaimed, raising his voice just slightly, so that it carried clearly. His timing was perfect to hit the break between songs. "You're the one that slept with my friend's little sister! Do you know how old she was, you sodding wanker? Fifteen! I ought to call the cops on you!"

"Hey, look," Parker said, rising from his chair, his hands raised in self defense. "You have the wrong guy. I would never—"

Spike stepped up close, making sure to invade his space. "The party last year? The drunk girl?"

The guilty look on Parker's face was enough to cause his companion to look sick to her stomach. Spike had no idea who the boy had slept with, but he knew the type. There was bound to have been a drunk girl at a party that he didn't know well. While he doubted that there'd been any girls that young, Spike had known the comment would get a reaction.

Knowing how gossip worked, it wouldn't be long before the rumor got around that Parker Abrams preyed on little girls.

Spike smirked inwardly. There were plenty of women who would go out with a guy knowing that he was a ladies' man, if only because they believed they could change him, but no one dated a pedophile.

"I thought she was at least eighteen!" Parker protested, and slammed the last nail in the coffin. The girl he was with rose and began gathering her things, and the patrons within earshot began whispering what had been said to those farther away.

Spike seized him by the collar and pulled him in close. "Next time, try keeping it zipped," he advised. "Or I might call the cops on you. I've heard about what they do to child molesters."

He released Parker hard enough to cause him to stumble, sprawling on the floor. Spike wandered away, keeping the pissed off look on his face long enough to get back to their table, where Buffy and Willow were waiting. He sat down, his expression challenging Buffy to get angry.

Instead, a slow smile emerged, and then both she and Willow began to giggle. "The look on his face!" Buffy gasped. "You are a bad man, Spike."

"The baddest," he replied, smiling smugly. "And don't you forget it."

Buffy shook her head. "You shouldn't have, but thank you."

The warm light in Buffy's eyes belied her words, however, and Spike couldn't help but be satisfied with his night's work. Particularly since Buffy would start giggling every now and then at the memory of watching Parker Abrams sprawled on the floor.

Buffy's laughter was music to his ears.