Et Lux In Tenebris Lucet (And the Light Shineth in the Darkness) by Enigmaticblue

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Chapter 11: Disappearing Act

It was amazing how much easier it was to get up in the mornings now that he knew that it was the chip's fault he wasn't walking yet. Perhaps it was because he'd never been very good at being patient, and waiting to heal required too much of it. Maybe it was because he had finally accepted that he wasn't going to get any better and had made his peace with it. And maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was now his choice, not some freak accident. He had chosen not to get the chip out in order to stay with Buffy. It was up to him to live with it now.

He'd had a hard time sleeping, and had decided that getting up to see Dawn and Buffy off would be a better use of his time than just lying in bed and wishing he could get to sleep. So he pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a blue collared shirt. "Normal people clothes" was what the Niblet had called them. It wasn't like he was trying to impress Buffy or anything, but there were days when it was nice to pretend to be something other than the Big Bad. And it didn't hurt his feelings any when he caught her checking him out.

Spike entered the kitchen to find it empty. He checked the clock, figuring that Tara had already left for class, and the noises from upstairs told him Buffy was awake and probably getting cleaned up. But the Niblet-

"Hey," she said, breezing into the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow. "Running a bit late, aren't we?"

She rolled her eyes at him and reached into the fridge for the juice. "I'm okay. I just forgot to set the alarm clock. Tara woke me up."

"Better eat something," he said. "Harris'll be here any minute now."

"And speak of the devil," Xander said from the kitchen doorway. "You about ready, Dawnster?"

"I gotta grab my bag," she replied. Spike stopped her before she could leave, handing her a package of pop tarts. "I'm not eating these, Spike. Do you know how many calories they have?"

"Then next time don't forget to set the alarm," he replied, not at all fazed. "You get up early enough, you can eat a healthy breakfast like you should anyway." Spike shook his head as she flounced out of the kitchen.

"We still on for tonight?" Xander asked, walking out towards the front door with the vampire, while they waited for Dawn to be ready.

Spike pretended to think about it. "Well, I don't know, Harris, what with my busy social calendar and all." He smirked. "Yeah, we're on. After I beat the socks off you, I'll move on to bigger and better targets."

Xander looked skeptical. "We'll see. I'd like to see you win at pool while trying to balance on those things," he said, pointing at the crutches.

The other man shrugged, levity gone. "Gotta try. Figure I could make some decent cash that way. Help the Slayer out a bit."

To his credit, Xander had ceased to be surprised at Spike's willingness to help Buffy, or even to question his motives. Finding out that the vampire had refused to even let her try to get the chip out had silenced him. Not that he was going to say anything nice about Spike, but he wasn't going out of his way to be mean either. It had actually been his suggestion that they go to the Bronze and play pool, see if Spike could really hold his own before he put any money on it. Besides, Anya was beginning to drive him crazy with her wedding obsessions, and he was feeling the need for a little "guy-time" even if it was with Spike.

Dawn came down the stairs then with her bag, and Xander got ready to open the front door, Spike standing back to avoid getting singed. "You'll come right home, Bit?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes again, but more because it was expected than because she was truly annoyed. "No, I'm going to go out and rob someone blind. Yes, I'll be home. I've got that essay to work on, and you promised to help me."

"I did at that." Spike watched as Xander pulled open the front door to reveal a short, slightly plump, middle-aged woman. "Can I help you?" he asked uncertainly.

She looked from him to Dawn to Xander and back to Dawn. "I take it you're Dawn Summers."

"Um, yeah," Dawn replied.

"I'm Doris Kroeger from Social Services. I was supposed to have a meeting with Buffy Summers?"

Spike shared a quick, panicked look with Xander before sticking his hand out for her to shake, giving thanks to the Powers That Be that she was blocking the sun. "I'm William. Buffy's upstairs getting ready but I'm sure she'll be right down." Turning to Xander, he mouthed, "Call Buffy." Out loud he said, "See you tonight, Harris. We'll work on that essay after school today, Dawn."

As she stepped inside, he pushed the door closed behind her. He needed William to make this work. He needed to not bollocks this up. "Would you like some coffee? There's a fresh pot in the kitchen."

She frowned slightly, but nodded. "That would be nice."

He watched as she looked around the house, and he knew she was taking mental notes. If he didn't tread very softly, he could end up ruining things for Buffy, and that's the last thing he wanted. "Can I pour?" he asked, taking down a mug.

As though realizing for the first time that he was crippled, she moved forward quickly. "No, I can get it." Ms. Kroeger finally smiled at him. "Do you live here?" she asked.

Spike moved over to the kitchen island and pulled himself up on one of the stools. "Actually, I do. While I realize how that must look to you, I assure you Buffy and I are only friends." He gave her his most sincere look. "If she hadn't been there for me after the accident, I don't know what I would have done. I don't think I would have made it."

Just then the phone rang, and he was relieved when it stopped after the first ring. "Then you've been staying here for a while," the social worker said, glancing around the kitchen. Spike was grateful that Tara had cleaned up before leaving.

"About six months," he replied honestly. "I didn't have a place to stay right after, and the doctors said it wouldn't be good to be on my own for the first bit. Buffy and I have known each other since she was in high school, and I knew Joyce quite well."

She looked interested. "You were friends with Mrs. Summers?"

"Yeah," and he didn't have to fake the wave of grief that washed over his features. "She was an incredible lady. Treated me like one of her own, really."

"I'm so sorry," Mrs. Kroeger mumured sympathetically. "I realize it must have been terribly hard."

"Hardest on Dawn," he said. "I know her grades and attendance slipped for a while, but I've been helpin' her with her school work, and we've all tried to make sure someone's there for her."

"Of course," Mrs. Kroeger still looked a little skeptical, but seemed to be wilting under Spike's sincerity. He wasn't a master vampire for nothing, but there were times he wished he could do thrall like Dru. Just look her in the eyes and have her go away without a second thought about the Summers. But he'd never had the patience to learn, and had always relied on his stunning charm. "So it's only you and Miss Summers, along with Dawn."

Spike silently prayed that honesty would actually turn out to be the best policy. "Tara's stayin' with us as well."

"There's another girl living here?" The woman was sounding more and more skeptical by the moment, and Spike was beginning to wonder if he hadn't ruined the whole thing.

"A friend of Buffy's from college," he explained. "She and Dawn are really close, and she's an incredible cook. Between the three of us, someone's pretty much always here for Dawn when she gets home from school and to make sure she's got a good dinner and the like."

"Oh." Ms. Kroeger had unbent just the slightest. "It certainly sounds like there are people who care about her." She hesitated, a look of guilty curiosity crossing her face. "Would you mind telling me what happened to you? The accident, I mean."

Spike froze. He hadn't thought she'd ask, couldn't think of what to say to explain. 'Well, you see, I fell off this tower in order to save the Bit along with Buffy and the rest of the world.' Not bloody likely.

"Actually, William got hurt saving Dawn's life," Buffy said from the doorway. She stepped into the kitchen. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I've been trying to study for finals this week, and our meeting completely slipped my mind." The Slayer gave silent thanks for Spike's quick thinking and Xander's phone call. It had given her time to compose herself and to come in confidently, rather than flustered.

Luckily for her, Ms. Kroeger had been completely caught by the first half of her entrance, disregarding the second bit. "You saved Dawn's life?" she asked Spike in surprise.

Spike didn't know what to say. While he had saved her life, he wasn't sure how to answer that question without sounding like a complete loon. "Oh, he's just modest," Buffy said, coming over to stand next to him. "Dawn was crossing the street and there was an on-coming car she didn't see. William pushed her out of the way. It's a miracle he's even alive."

"Oh, well," Doris Kroeger said, a little breathlessly. She wasn't a bad woman at heart, and she had a soft spot for good-looking men. Especially handsome men who were true heroes. And really, Dawn's absences had been declining this semester, and her grades were definitely improving, quite possibly due to the nice British man who was looking at her with such a charming smile. Really, they were all doing their best, weren't they? She asked Buffy a few questions, encouraged her to call if she needed anything, and left.

Spike broke out into a large grin once he was sure she was gone. "Bloody hell, I'm glad that's over with."

"I'll second that," Buffy muttered, leaning against the door as though preventing Doris Kroeger's re-entrance. She looked over at Spike. "Thank you."

"It wasn't anythin'," he replied, looking slightly embarrassed. Then he gave her one of his patented smirks. "Not even a social services dragon is immune to my charm."

Buffy gave him a mischievous smile. "She's not the only one." And she walked back to the kitchen, laughing quietly at the stunned look on his face.

~~~~~

The Slayer knew exactly what kind of near escape she'd had. She hadn't been lying to the Kroeger woman. She did have a final she was studying for, and she had let the appointment completely slip her mind. But she also knew that Dawn's rising grades and near-perfect attendance this last semester was due mainly to Tara and Spike's eagle eyes. Both of them had been more than willing to pick up the slack caused by her trying to be mom and Slayer and student all at the same time.

Buffy looked into the mirror as she brushed her hair, looking at the length of it. It would be nice to go shorter, she realized, something easier to take care of that would fit in with the busyness that was her life. Maybe she should get it cut after class, surprise everyone, be a little different. If she couldn't change her life, maybe she could change her appearance.

~~~~~

Spike put the cap on his pen and glanced down at the few remaining blank pages. Another block of time and he would fill the notebook completely. He'd have to see about having the Bit or Buffy pick up another one for him. The writing came more easily for him than he'd expected, the words flowing. There was more than a little blood and guts involved, but mostly he'd concentrated on his travels, on what he'd seen and done. The truth behind the Scourge of Europe, and more specifically, the Slayer of Slayers.

He'd thought about letting Buffy see it, but didn't think he would at this point. It wasn't as though he felt guilt for his past; there was no regret for being a vampire. It was what he was, and he revelled in the freedom it had given him, the immortality and the strength. But there was a small part of him that did not want Buffy to know some of the things he had done. He wanted her to know what he was now, not what he had been. Giles might be a better candidate. He would know how to put the information to good use, and Spike trusted him. Not that he liked him, but he recognized in the other man a sort of practical honor.

Spike shoved the notebook under his pillow. He only had a few hours until Dawn got home and he was supposed to give her a hand with her homework. Time for a bit to eat and a nap. He'd worry about locking the book up later.

He was in the kitchen, heating up his blood when he heard the front door swing open. Frowning, he swung himself out to the hallway. "Hello? Buffy, is that you?" There was no answer, and the door was closed. He shook his head, puzzled. Buffy had an afternoon class, and she usually didn't come home between. Dawn was usually the first to show up after school was out. He sniffed the air, but smelled only the normal scents of the occupants, breakfast, and blood.

Going back into the kitchen, he pulled out the mug and started drinking, the hunger in his belly easing. Having learned from experience, he rinsed it out and left it in the sink, going back downstairs for his nap.

Once he reached the basement however, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he knew there was someone down there with him. "I know you're down here," he called, trying to quell the tendrils of fear. If there was something down there with him, there wans't much he could do about it really.

Silence. "Come on," he taunted. "Not afraid of me are you? Show yourself." He heard a whisper of sound and felt something brush by him. "A ghost, huh? Go haunt the living. There's nothing down here."

"Nothing at all?" Buffy's voice whispered into his ear. And then her hand was brushing down his face, his arm. And he could smell her right there beside him.

"Buffy?"

"Whatsamatter, Spike? Having a hard time seeing me?" She laughed as astonishment registered on his features. "Well, you're not the only one. I wanted to change my appearance, but I'm not sure this was the way I wanted to go."

He reached out a hand to touch her, and found her solid, right in front of him. He just couldn't see her. "Slayer? What happened?"

She laughed again, sounding positively giddy. "Well, I went to get a haircut, and the next thing I knew-poof! Invisible girl. It's kind of fun, really." Her hand found its way to his chest, and he could feel her finger making patterns on the fabric. "Want to play a game?"

Spike watched as the buttons on his shirt seemed to unbutton themselves one by one, and he could suddenly feel her warm hands on his bare chest. "Let's see exactly where the feeling stops, huh?" He swallowed hard, feeling her hands move lower and lower, until he couldn't feel the pressure anymore. But from there, he could imagine what she was doing, even if he couldn't see it, and his imagination was running wild.

"Buffy? What are you doing?" he asked.

"Having a little fun," she replied. "Aren't you?"

Oh, he was. He couldn't believe that she was doing this. And her hands came back up to the part of his body that could feel, and he was getting really turned on, and he had no idea what he was going to do, because his hands were presently occupied keeping him upright-

And then he saw it. The notebook he had shoved completely under his pillow was now laying right on top of it. He pulled back from the Slayer's questing hands abruptly. "What are you doing, Buffy?" he asked coldly.

"Spike," she protested, her tone surprised. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" he asked, his tone sharp. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. "What's wrong is that you invaded my privacy and now you're playing games with me."

"Spike, it's not a big deal. I just wanted to see what you were so busy with. I didn't read any of it." Her tone was both defensive and light, as though she were a guilty child trying to play down her offense.

But his anger was heightened, not lessened. "You went where you weren't wanted, Slayer," he replied. "That's my business, not yours to play about with whenever you choose." He felt betrayed by her actions, angered by the casualness with which she toyed with him. He felt as though she were flirting with danger; coming onto him not because she wanted him but because she wanted to take a little walk on the wild side. And while he had told the truth, that he had no regret over his sacrifice, and no desire to be repaid, he hated feeling used. Used to protect her sister, used to protect the world, used when she wanted a little excitement.

"Get out, Buffy," he growled. And she must have sensed that he meant it, because he heard her footsteps on the stairs and then overhead. Angrily, he pulled his shirt off and then sat on his cot to remove the braces. Pulling out the metal box, he locked the notebook inside, something he apparently should have done earlier. And then, sighing, he laid down, closing his eyes, tired to the bone.

~~~~~

Xander came bursting through the front door, calling for Buffy. "Slayer's not here." Spike's voice came from the kitchen, and he followed the sound to its source.

"Have you seen her?" Xander paused. "Well, actually you wouldn't have seen her-"

"She's been here," Dawn said quietly. She and Spike were sitting side by side at the table, working on an assignment for school. Tara sat across from them, a thick text book in front of her and a highlighter in hand.

Xander looked around at the faces. All of them wore serious expressions, and no one was looking particularly satisfied with the situation. "What happened?"

Spike looked even more grim, but he maintained his silence, which was unusual enough that Xander noticed. But Dawn was the one to answer his question. "Buffy was giving me the wiggins. She was just-acting crazy. It's not like she was even trying to get visible again."

"Well, she needs to get visible," Xander replied. "Whatever did this to her is making things mushy."

"Mushy?" Tara asked, looking puzzled.

"The traffic cone that got hit started, I don't know, dissolving." He looked worried. "We need to find Buffy and get this figured out."

"Good luck findin' something you can't see," Spike muttered. Xander was surprised at his tone. Normally Spike would be the first out the door, but he didn't seem anxious to go anywhere.

"Oookay," he said. "Anybody else notice some bitterness?"

Dawn threw him a glare. "Buffy was really freaking Spike out, Xander."

"Right. Still, we have to find her." Xander was extremely curious as to how Buffy had managed to piss Spike off so badly, but the vampire wasn't talking, and it didn't look like he was going to.

Just then the phone rang, and Spike reached over to pick it up. "Yeah...She's not here...Dunno where she is, what do you want?" His eyes widened and narrowed. "I'll get her the message. Just say it." There was a long pause, and then he barked, "She'll be there."

Spike hung up the phone and looked over at Xander. "Whoever they are, they've got Red. Wanted me to find Buffy and let her know where they are."

Xander shook his head. "We don't have time for that. I don't-"

The phone rang again, and Spike reached over to pick it up. "Yeah...Buffy?" He listened for a second, and then apparently cut her off. "We don't have time for that, Slayer. Some wankers just called, said they have Red. Figure it's the ones what turned you invisible." He listened for a second and then listed the location for her. He hung up the phone and said calmly, "She's handling it."

Xander frowned. "What if she needs help?"

"She's an invisible Slayer, Harris. She doesn't need help."

~~~~~

Buffy entered the house as quietly as possible, feeling more than a little ashamed of herself. Her giddy-fest from earlier in the day was going to have consequences. Making up with Dawn wouldn't be too hard. It would require some groveling and probably the loan of her new shirt, but her sister was usually fairly forgiving. At least, as long as you begged appropriately and let her yell a little.

No, it was Spike she was concerned about. While the Slayer part of her brain impatiently reminded her that he was a vampire, and therefore it didn't matter that she'd gotten into his private notebook, the Buffy part reminded her forcefully that it hadn't been nice. Besides which, every time she tried to convince herself that he was an evil vampire without feelings, she remembered the way his face had looked when he'd realized he'd been paralyzed. His eyes the night he'd stopped her from burning to death. His quiet assurance when he told her he would stay with her rather than get the chip out. He had given up everything, or at least a chance at everything for her, and she hadn't paid him back very well at all.

He was out on the back porch, of course, smoke wreathing his head. "Hey."

"Welcome back to the world of the seen, Slayer," he said, his deep voice resonating in the darkness.

She tried for the light approach. "I was just wondering how long you were going to stay mad, because I figured I could just come back when you were done." The chilly silence that followed told her that might have been the wrong approach. Buffy bit her lip. "Can I sit down?"

He said nothing, but he did push himself up off the step and over so that there was more room for her to sit beside him. She took his invitation. "I'm sorry, Spike. I don't even know what got into me."

"I do." His flat statement sent off sparks of anger in her. She hated it when he thought he knew better.

"Then why don't you tell me," she challenged, gritting her teeth.

He looked over at her, his face half in shadow, making him look sinister. "You were feeling like nothing mattered. All the rules and regulations they throw at you, everything they say you have to do, all that's gone. Because who's gonna know you broke some rule if no one can see you? So you had a little fun doin' all those things you want to do when you can't get away with it, and you tried it when you knew you bloody well could."

Some of Buffy's anger drained away, leaving a faint aftertaste of irritation. How could he know her so well when she didn't even know? "How'd you work that one out, Spike?"

He caught her agitation and smiled sourly. "You ever wonder what it's like to be a vampire, luv? Aside from the whole blood lust thing when you first rise, you suddenly feel this power that's bigger than you could've ever dreamed of. But more than that, you figure out you're free. Free of every demand anybody ever put on you. You can do what you want, go where you want, and say sod all to the rest of the world."

Buffy's eyes opened wide in shock even as her face flushed with anger. "You're saying I was acting like a vampire? How sick is that?"

"Didn't say that," he replied, equally irritated. "I'm just saying you were feelin' pretty free with yourself and stopped thinkin' about what you should do for a minute. Started thinkin' on terms of what you wanted. That's all a vampire ever does, pet."

"I'm not your pet," she snapped. "Look, Spike, I'm sorry about looking in your notebook, but don't try giving me some crap story about how I'm just like you. We're nothing alike. We have nothing in common. You're a soulless vampire and that's all you'll ever be."

She regretted the words almost as soon as they came out of her mouth. Spike had done a lot for her recently, and he'd proven himself to be more than what he was. But they were out, and couldn't be unsaid, and by the tightening of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes, she knew she'd just managed to throw up a wall between them that might never come down. "Well, then, I guess this soulless vampire will just say good-night."

Buffy watched as he swung himself into the house, a constant reminder that he had given everything for her. Sometimes she hated him for not being able to hate him anymore. And other times she wished she didn't feel so guilty for liking him as much as she did. There were days that she hated her life.

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