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

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Chapter 8: Wiping the Slate

Buffy was grateful that Spike hadn't brought up their kiss. She wandered through the graveyard with a sort of aimlessness. There wasn't much going on recently in the undead and demony category, which left her all sorts of time to consider the oddness that was her life. Part of the oddity consisted of her live-in vampire completely ignoring the fact that they had shared a steamy, scene-stealing kiss. It really wasn't fair.

If he had said something, she would have been perfectly justified in shooting him down, telling him that it was the music, it would never happen again, etc. The fact that he hadn't said anything made her wonder if something was wrong, if she'd finally gotten to the point where just kissing a man was enough to cure him forever. If maybe he was only in love with her because he thought she was unattainable, and now that she seemed within reach, he didn't want her anymore. Or maybe she'd done something wrong. And it wasn't fair, because she wasn't supposed to be having these kinds of thoughts where Spike was concerned.

On the other hand, if she went to him and demanded to know what he was thinking about, why he hadn't said anything, that would give him the idea that it had meant more than it had. And it hadn't meant anything. He'd been standing there, looking all sexy and vulnerable, and his blue eyes had been so deep, she'd lost her head. So he was gorgeous, so he really wasn't all that evil, he was still a vampire. A vampire who was living in her house whom she had absolutely no business kissing. She knew all of that, but it didn't mean she wasn't thinking lusty thoughts. Because, as Dawn said, he was a complete hottie. And he could be sweet. And—

Buffy stopped herself right there. She couldn't think things like that, it just wasn't right. So no more thoughts of Spike.

Suddenly she found herself surrounded by a group of vampires. "Where's Spike, Slayer?" one of them snarled.

"Who?" she asked with a frown.

"Your pet vampire. Where is he?" another asked with a smirk. "We heard he'd been laid up. Needed to be put out of his misery."

Buffy's face hardened and she took a tighter grip on the stake that she'd grabbed. "If anyone's going to be putting Spike out of his misery it's me, not some sorry excuse for a vampire gang."

There were growls all around at that insult, and then they attacked. They weren't all that special, as vampires go, hardly a challenge for the Slayer, even five at a time. Still, the fact that they were actively looking for Spike worried her, and as she dusted herself off, she made a mental note to talk to her roommate.

~~~~~

Spike rubbed a tired hand over his face as he waited for his blood to heat in the microwave. He hadn't slept since that kiss with Buffy. It had been everything he'd ever dreamed it would be, all heat and passion, Gone With the Wind and the rising music. But it turned out his legs weren't the only things that were broken. Numb from the waist down took on an entirely new meaning when even Buffy couldn't inspire him. So he'd ignored their little moment, feeling entirely certain that Buffy would be doing the same thing, and hoping that it wouldn't come up again. Because he certainly couldn't do anything about it.

"Spike?" The vampire shut his eyes and wished as hard as he could that she wouldn't want to talk. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?" he muttered, thinking his life could hardly get worse.

Buffy gave him a strange look and then said quietly, "I ran into some of your friends tonight."

"They give you a sympathy card to deliver?" he asked, his tone one of biting sarcasm.

"No, but they were looking for you. They said they wanted to put you out of your misery." She reached out and touched him on the arm. "You want to tell me why they'd want to do that?"

He gave a short bark of laughter. "Why do you think? I'm a vampire who's betrayed his own kind to help the bloody Slayer, and now I can't even protect myself. Vampires are evil, luv, and they aren't nice to anyone. Like soddin' wolves, they'll kill one of their own if it's not fit to live."

"Don't say that," she ordered.

"Why? 'S true, innit?" He stared at her. "Look, Buffy, appreciate the concern, but I could do with a little space right now. Don't feel like seein' or talkin' to anyone."

"Even me?"

"Specially you, pet," he replied with a little smile. "Do me a favor and tell Dawn to wake me up when she gets home tomorrow. I'm supposed to help her with an essay she's doin' for school." With that, he drank the rest of his blood and escaped up the stairs, feeling Buffy's eyes on his back. And he went back to bed and tried to sleep, only to dream of failure and falling and being chased by things from which he couldn't run.

When he woke, it was nearing sunset and Dawn had obviously not woken him up, which was odd. She had to do an essay on the Industrial Revolution for her history class, and Spike had seen parts of it first-hand, which was why he had offered to help out. He lay there for a minute, bracing himself for the struggle it would take to get out of bed, finally working up the energy to pull the braces on and get himself upright. It took more energy and more effort every evening, until one day, he knew, there would be no getting him up at all.

He swung himself across the hall to Dawn's room, peering in to see no evidence that she'd even come home from school that day. From there he peeked into the Slayer's bedroom, seeing that she was absent as well. He worked his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, finally calling out to both of them, hoping to hear a reply, but the house was silent and empty. Worry began to prick at his brain, and he decided to call the Magic Box to see if they were there or if anyone had seen them recently.

He let the phone ring about a half dozen times before finally hanging up. There was no way the shop had been shut down this early in the evening, and even on the off chance that it had been, someone should have answered the phone. Worry blossomed into fear, and he made a quick decision to go check things out for himself.

Spike was fully cognizant of the fact that if any of his "friends" caught him out after dark on his own, he'd be dust before he could so much as blink. But Buffy and Dawn might be in danger, and he would rather die (in a manner of speaking) trying than to sit and wait, hoping that they would be safe.

Not bothering with his duster, which was too awkward with the crutches anyway, he set off as quickly as he was able for the shop. He avoided the short-cuts he might have taken a year ago, sticking instead to the well-lit streets, hoping that he would escape unnoticed.

Unmolested, he reached the door of the shop with a heartfelt sigh of relief. As much as he wouldn't have minded finding himself dust, and his sorry excuse for an unlife over, he couldn't afford to be maudlin as long as Buffy or Dawn were possibly in danger. And as he opened the door to see the Slayer's sprawled figure, it seemed that his fear had been valid.

Spike didn't bother with the lights; he didn't need them and he was too worried about Buffy to pause even for a moment. Releasing the tension on the braces, he sank down to the floor with a complete lack of grace. "Buffy," he called quietly. "Wake up, luv."

She started to stir almost immediately, and he gave in to both his relief and his feelings for her by stroking her blond hair out of her face tenderly. "Come on, pet, time to wake up now."

Green eyes opened to stare at him with a total lack of recognition. "Who—who are you?"

The vampire pulled his hand back from her face, his eyes mirroring her confusion. "It's me, Spike. What happened?"

She shook her head. "I don't remember anything." The look she turned on him was one of pleading. "You know me?"

Spike was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that something had gone seriously wrong. If he had to make an educated guess, he'd say that someone had cast a spell that had either done exactly what they wanted it to or had gone terribly awry. If the first, it was probably an outsider, an enemy. If the second, then all evidence would probably point to one of the witches. Though considering the Sweet debacle, it could very easily be one of the others. "Yeah, Buffy, we live together." Realizing how that sounded, he amended. "Well, I stay in your house. Bit of a difference there."

"What happened?" she asked, her voice shaking a bit.

He hesitated, and then admitted, "Don't know, but let's wake the others and we'll see if we can't find out."

"You're hurt," she said, reaching out to touch him as she saw the braces on his legs.

"Doesn't hurt," he replied, turning his head away. She seemed to sense his reluctance in accepting her help and so didn't offer, instead turning her head away so as not to see his embarrassment. Once he was on his feet, however, she flipped on the light switch, and they both watched as the others woke.

They were all disoriented, coming to consciousness slowly, and if the situation had been less serious, Spike would have had a good laugh at their positions: Giles drooling on Anya, Willow cuddled up with Xander. He couldn't help but wonder what they might have thought, what explanations they would have come up with if left to their own devices.

There was no time for such thoughts, however. Dawn was obviously frightened, and as the Scoobies and the Watcher began to realize their predicament, voices were raised and questions asked. Spike's first concern was Dawn, though, and he and Buffy moved immediately to her side when she let out a distressed whimper. "'Sall right, Niblet," Spike said quietly, trying not to startle her. "It'll be fine."

She looked up at him, her blue eyes distressingly trusting. "You know me?"

"Sure I do, pet," Spike replied as gently as possible. "I was s'posed to help you with that essay today, right?" If he was hoping he could jog her memory, he was sorely disappointed since all he got was a blank look. Buffy put a comforting arm around her sister, and Spike turned to see the rest of the crew arguing in distressed tones.

"Hey now!" he called to the room at large. "That'll be enough of that." The vampire was pleased as they immediately looked over at him. "You lot alright?"

"We are not 'alright,'" Giles said, with more than a hint of distaste in his tone. "None of us have any memory of who we are."

Spike couldn't resist a smirk. He was firmly on the high ground. "Well, lucky for you I know who all of you are." He named them off one by one, pointing to each in turn. "Rupert Giles. Anya. Tara. Willow. Xander. Buffy. Dawn." He lifted an eyebrow at Giles' faintly skeptical look. "Check your pockets then if you don't believe me."

They checked their pockets, all but Dawn and Anya having some kind of identification. Anya found confirmation with the key that fit the cash register and the receipts that had her name on them. Tara, Buffy and Willow had their student I.D.'s and Xander and Giles had their driver's licenses. Dawn found her name on her necklace. "Since you seem to know who we are," Giles grudgingly admitted, "perhaps you would be so kind as to tell us who you are."

All eyes turned to him, and Spike realized that he had placed himself in the strange position of being the leader. "Bloody hell," he murmured. This wasn't what he had in mind. "I'm Spike," he finally said. "Got worried 'bout Buffy and the Bit and decided to see if I couldn't find them. Looks like you lot got caught up in someone's spell."

There were strident objections to that by Giles and milder arguments from Willow and Xander. Spike rolled his eyes. "Look around, you gits," he ordered. "Strike you as a regular shop then?" He muttered several other, less-than-complimentary comments, low enough that no one heard him. "First rule of order is to find out what happened. Chances are someone is either using this as some sort of weapon or one of you lot screwed up a spell." He snorted. "If I had to guess, I'd say it was that last."

He might have gone on, trying to find some clue that explained what had happened to all of them, but a large rock crashed through the front window. "Come on, Spike! We know you're in there. Come out and maybe we'll let your friends live."

"Bloody hell," he muttered. Last thing he needed right now was a bunch of bloody vampires.

"Why do those men out there want to hurt you?" Willow asked.

He sighed, swinging himself to the window and peering out. "Go away, you soddin' wankers," he yelled back. "Slayer's in here and she'll stake your arses." The only response he got were jeers. "Look, long story short, they're not happy with me because I'm hangin' with the Slayer and they think I'm an easy target."

"Slayer?" Tara asked. "Who—who is that?"

This was entirely too much. How was he supposed to explain the whole of the Sunnyhell madness to a bunch of people who hadn't a clue as to who they were? "She's the Slayer," he replied shortly, pointing at Buffy.

At just that moment, two vampires crashed inside, one through the window and one through the back door. The rest of the lot screamed, but Spike grabbed the stakes that sat on a nearby shelf and tossed one to Buffy. "Catch!" he called, and was relieved to see that her body remembered what her brain didn't. Some fancy footwork from the Slayer and a couple piles of dust later and they managed to get the rest of the riffraff out the door, Buffy leaning on it to prevent any more vampires from entering that way. Spike quickly slammed the window grate down by releasing the catch, hoping that would keep the rest of them out for the time being.

"Why do they want you so bad?" Xander asked suspiciously from his position on the floor. "They're vampires. They should be just as pissed about the rest of us helping Buffy as they are about you. What makes you so special?"

Spike couldn't believe that Harris would choose this particular moment to get all logical on him. "Because I'm a traitor," he replied. At their blank looks, he rolled his eyes. "I'm a bloody vampire, you git. I help the Vampire Slayer. You see why they might take exception."

In spite of the fact that he had just spent the past fifteen minutes reassuring them, telling them who they were, helping save them from what threatened them, they all drew back from him in fear. Buffy took a tighter grip on her stake. "Why should we trust you then?"

And suddenly they were all looking at him not only in fear, but also in suspicion. "Because I want to help you," he said, unbelievably hurt. "Didn't have to come here tonight, you know, risking my life for you lot just by walking out the door. I was worried."

"You mean you want to eat us," Willow said. "I can't believe we're listening to a vampire. I think we should get out of here, maybe go to the hospital. They should be able to help us."

"Perhaps you should leave," Giles suggested, a hint of threat in his voice. "I don't see how you could be of any use to us anyway."

Spike looked over at Buffy, desperately hoping that he might see something resembling compassion on her face. Because it wasn't just their words that cut, it was the looks on their faces. Losing their memories had simply pulled aside the façade of pity, leaving only disgust and misgiving in its wake. At least Buffy looked uncertain, but she didn't seem to be in any hurry to drop the stake or stand up for him. "Fine," he said softly. "I'll just be on my way then. Why I thought to help any of you lot is beyond me."

He headed deliberately for the front door, figuring Buffy would most likely gladly step out of his way. Spike was tired. He was so tired, and all the weight of his hundred-odd years hung on him like stones. He had no doubt that it would be over quickly. "Wait!" It was Dawn's voice behind him. "You can't go out there. They'll kill you."

"That's the point, Bit," he replied, knowing that she wouldn't really recognize his pet-name for her. "It's time I end this."

"But you're the only one who knows what's going on," she protested. "I don't want you to go."

"Dawn's right." This time it was Tara. "Besides, Spike could have hurt us at any point, and he hasn't lied to us yet. We can't just let him go out and get killed. He wouldn't stand a chance against all of them."

He wouldn't have stood a chance against one of them, Spike knew, but he appreciated her words. They soothed the wounds that the others' suspicions had made in him. "Tara and Dawn are right," Buffy said softly. Turning to him, she asked, "Is there another way out of here?"

"The basement," he replied. "There's a trapdoor that leads to the sewers."

"We can go out that way then," Buffy said, ready to turn and lead the way.

Spike shook his head. "Won't work, pet. I won't make it down those ladders. If they think you're in here, they'll hold off storming the place for a while. Best get the rest of them to safety."

Buffy shook her head. The fight with the vampires who had gotten in had energized her and given her a new confidence. Spike had called her the Slayer; apparently the Slayer was a superhero. And heroes did not let guys who were trying to save their lives die. "The rest of you go on. Get to the sewers and make for the hospital. Spike and I will follow as soon as we can."

Spike was about ready to argue, but a steely look from Buffy was all it took to convince him otherwise. "She's right," he finally admitted grudgingly. "The rest of you go on." When no one moved, he shifted his face, showed a little fang. "Go!" They went.

He and Buffy sat in silence, her back holding the front door closed. "What happened?" she asked softly.

"What do you mean?" he asked. He was leaning on the door next to her even though Spike knew he wouldn't be much use in keeping the door shut; there was too much risk in him getting overbalanced.

"Your legs. What happened?"

"I fell."

It was an inadequate explanation to say the least. "Come on, Spike. I know I'm supposed to know this already, but you're a vampire. Aren't vampires supposed to be, I don't know, hard to kill or something?"

He looked over at her, his blue eyes blank and unreadable. "We're immortal, Buffy, not invulnerable. And before you ask, I should have healed by now."

"Oh." Buffy regarded him with the eyes of a nearly impartial stranger. Who was he, this vampire who had come to check on her? Who had been worried for her sister and claimed to sleep in her house? "Why were you hurt then?"

"I made a promise," he replied quietly, and Buffy knew that was all he was going to say on the matter.

There was another long pause, and then Buffy broke the silence again. "Are we—you know—dating or something?"

"No," he said, not looking at her. "But I think we might be friends."

Considering this, she said softly. "I'm sorry about earlier, about not trusting you. But I don't know you."

"I know," he said, and gave her a wry smile. "And if you did know me, you still probably wouldn't trust me. Story of my life, really."

They sat in silence for a long time. Spike might have been restless, but he had learned to wait over the last months, learned how to be patient. The Slayer, however, had none of that, and she was natually inclined to action. "We can't just sit here all night," she finally said.

"Why not?" he asked, surprised. "Once sunrise is close enough, they'll leave well enough alone."

Buffy shook her head. "Let me rephrase that. I'm not going to sit here all night. Besides, we should help the others if we can. You don't know what's in the sewers."

Spike did know; that was the problem. He figured the rest of them could probably take care of Dawn, but Buffy was right. Without any knowledge of what they could be facing, they were much more vulnerable. "Fine. What's the plan?"

He could see a renewed respect in her eyes as he indicated his willingness to allow her to call the shots. "Okay, stakes kill vampires, right? Do you know where we could find something more long-range for you to use?"

Excitement began to kindle in Spike's head. "Yeah, Giles has crossbows and the like in the training room. I'll look around and see if I can find holy water too. Should be some around here."

He returned a few minutes later with a loaded crossbow and several extra bolts stuck through his belt, plus a few glass vials of holy water in his pockets. "Good," Buffy said eagerly. "Now, if you could get behind something, you could shoot at them as they come through the door, and I'll stake them." She grinned at him. "This could be fun. You do know how to shoot that thing, don't you?" she asked, glancing at the crossbow.

"Don't worry, luv," he said, a sparkle in his eyes that had been missing for some time. "I won't hit you."

Their camaraderie was an easy one, and as Spike stood behind the bookcase, waiting for Buffy to give the signal, he couldn't help but feel a sense of joy. This was what he had lived for: the fight, the excitement, fangs and fists and sod all else. This was life. At the Slayer's signal, he called out, "Hey! Why don't you poofters come in and get me! Sent the rest of them away, so you've lost your meal. Come on and take me if you think you can."

His sharp ears caught muttered arguments outside the door. Apparently, they were afraid it was a trap, and they weren't eager to die. He looked over at Buffy and cocked one scarred eyebrow, and she grinned back, letting the door swing open slowly and scurrying off to one side so they wouldn't see her. Like mice who recognize the trap but find the cheese too tempting to pass up, two of the vampires crossed the threshold warily. Spike waited until they turned and then let loose a bolt from the crossbow, dusting one neatly. Buffy was on the second in a moment, and he too was dust.

The next bolt missed its target by less than an inch, lodging in the vampire's shoulder, but Spike grabbed the vial of holy water and slung it as hard as he could, breaking the glass on his face and blinding him, Buffy using the moment of disorientation to stake him as well. The last two were through the door and on top of Spike in a moment's time. Buffy pulled one away and was fighting with him even as Spike was trying not to let the other vampire kill him. The git finally fell on the stake that he was hanging onto for dear life, and he looked over to see Buffy sprawled on the floor, a dazed look on her face.

Concerned, he struggled to his feet and reloaded the crossbow, even as the vampire aimed a kick at her stomach. But whatever had floored her passed, and she grabbed his foot and gave it a vicious twist, pulling him to the floor and straddling his waist, a stake poised above his heart. "I'm only going to say this once," she grated out. "Spike is my concern. If anyone so much as lays a finger on him, I will make them wish they had never been born. You can tell that to your friends." And then she got off of him, snarling, "Run."

Spike watched in amazement and narrowed his eyes as she turned to look at him. "Buffy?"

"Yeah, I'm back," she said, smiling, but it didn't quite reach her eyes, and he couldn't help but compare this Slayer to the joyous girl she'd been a few minutes before. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he said shortly, turning on his crutches to close and latch the door of the shop.

"Look, Spike, I know you think you're useless right now, but you did a good job tonight." Buffy had no idea why she was trying to comfort him. This was Spike, the guy that had been her mortal enemy. And she was really starting to like him. "If you hadn't shown up, I shudder to think what would have happened."

He shook his head. "You would have figured it out, Slayer. And chances are those wankers wouldn't have bothered to make an appearance without me around."

She sat down on the steps, elbows on knees and chin in her hands. "We were all here because Giles wanted to tell us he was going back to England. As in, permanently."

"Oh." Awkwardly, he sat down next to her.

"You don't seem surprised," she noted. "Did you know he was leaving?"

"Not as such, but I saw it coming," he admitted.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's you, Mr. Perceptive."

He wasn't sure he should bring it up, but he thought it necessary. "You know Willow was probably the one doin' the spell."

"I know," she replied. "There really isn't anyone else who would have done it. It was probably a mistake."

"Even so, one of you could have gotten hurt, luv," he said.

She looked over at him. "What's your point?"

He sighed. He screwed up and he was in the doghouse for the next few weeks; one of the Scoobies screwed up and it was forgiven and forgotten in moments. "Glinda will leave over this, you know. She's been worried about Red for a while now, and they were fighting about magic a few weeks ago at Halloween."

Buffy rubbed her eyes tiredly. The last thing she wanted to deal with right now was anyone else's problems. Her own had come crashing back down on her shoulders, leaving no time to think of the others. "Okay, again, what's your point?"

"I think you should ask Tara to come live with you," he said. Before she could object, he continued on. "I've been thinkin' about movin' down to the basement for a while now, 'specially since the pipes got fixed. She'll need a place to stay, and you could ask her to help out 'round the house, cookin' and such, instead of rent. That'll take some of the burden off your shoulders, and Dawn really likes her, you know."

"And you really like her too," Buffy said, with a small smile. "She's the only one I know who can get you to shut up with a look."

Spike shifted uncomfortably. "She's a lady," he finally said in explanation. "Reminds me of your mum, in a way."

He winced even as the words came out of his mouth, hating to bring up a painful subject. "You're right," Buffy replied softly, not yelling at him as he thought she might. "She's got a presence about her that's really soothing." She gave him a measuring look. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"Not much else I can do, luv," he responded.

Buffy didn't say anything to that, but simply reached over and laid her hand on top of his where it rested on the floor. There were sounds from the basement then, and she moved away from him, but not before giving his hand one last squeeze. And it felt like a kiss.

She met the others, making sure they were fine, getting a status report from them, finding out that they'd met up with a vampire in the sewers. "Xander staked him," Dawn supplied. "It was so cool."

Xander shrugged it off and looked over at Spike, who'd made it to his feet, but said nothing. Dawn caught his eyes as well, but she headed straight for the vampire. "Thank you," she mumbled into his shirt front, her arms tight around his waist.

"Didn't do much," he replied, managing to get one arm around her.

She looked him straight in the eye. "You could have been killed tonight just trying to check on us. I told you you weren't allowed to die."

"Sorry, I'll remember that next time." Spike looked up and saw that Buffy had pulled Tara off to the side and was speaking in low tones, while Giles stood apart from the group, already pulling himself away. "When's the Watcher leavin'?" he asked Dawn softly.

"Tonight," she replied in the same tone. "Buffy was really upset earlier. She totally told him off for taking off like he is." Her gaze turned inward. "Dad did the same thing."

He tightened his grip on her slightly, offering what comfort he could. Telling her without words that he wasn't going anywhere, and her grateful look warmed him. "I should get Dawn home," Buffy said to Giles and the room in general. She looked over at him, resentment still present in her eyes. "Do you need a ride to the airport?"

"No," he said, unable to meet her gaze. "It's all arranged."

"Right." She looked back at Spike, who stood silently with Dawn. "We should go."

Xander stepped in. "We can give you guys a ride back to your place. It's a long walk, especially after a night like this."

Buffy and Tara's eyes met, and a quiet understanding passed between them. As they turned to go, Giles' voice stopped them. "Spike."

The vampire turned to look at the man who, hours before, was ready to feed him to the wolves. "Watcher."

"Take care of yourself."

It was as close to an apology as he was likely to receive, and part of him wanted to spit it right back in his face, much as he had Giles' suggestion a few years previous that he might be meant for bigger things. But he had changed, and there was a part of him that recognized he was different, special even. That maybe he had something more to give. That same part that refused to admit he might have already given everything he had. "You too," was his response, the reply of an older, wiser vampire. And he followed his girls back out into the night.

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