Even at the end, when he knew it was useless, when he was covered with sweat and blood and maddened by the mockery of her laughter, he still struggled to maintain his grip on the stake so that he could take her with him.

He slumped wearily against the garden wall, eyes glazing as she walked toward him.

Once he had watched Buffy in that same position as Angelus closed in for the kill. Somehow she'd miraculously pulled the rabbit from the hat and won thta bloody fight.

But there would be no miracle for him.

Morgan pressed her stake against his chest.

He'd lost so much blood it was hard to move; still he struggled to stand, willing himself to die on his feet.

She hesitated at the end, she cocked her blonde head curiously. "Aren't you going to tell me why, Spike?"

He made it erect at last; his eyes were on a level with hers. "Not the brightest crayon in the box, are we?" he managed.

"Now I wonder...was it for HER?"

"No," he grunted, then cursed himself.

"Oh, I think so." Morgan was laughing again, there was genuine amusement in those ice-colored eyes. "What a joke you are...William the Bloody!"

He lurched at her then, squandering the last of his strength. His hands closed on her stake, but they were slippery with blood and he couldn't maintain his grip. She twisted it away; as in slow motion, he saw it enter his chest.

"So long, Spike," he heard Morgan chuckle. "See you in hell."

Why does that sound so sodding familiar? Spike wondered.

And then he was gone, down into darkness. He saw streaks of color, heard cries and moans, even what sounded like a child singing.

Then the dark closed tight around him; and he saw and heard nothing more.

It grew larger and larger, filling his mind until his eyes opened wide to see it.

He was lying on what seemed to be a moor...he could see bracken and purple heather. The sky was overcast and gray, and a light breeze was blowing. Spike shook his head, trying to clear it.

"If this is hell, it isn't what I expected," he said aloud.

"It isn't."

Standing quite close was a badly-dressed little man, wearing the most deplorable hat Spike had ever seen.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Spike demanded rudely.

The little man shook his head. "Already told you, hell hasn't a thing to do with it."

Spike was startled. "Here, you're not telling me I'm in heaven?"

The little man snorted. "You?"

"Yeah, I figured," Spike said quietly. "So, you going to answer my questions, or not?"

"Some of them," his companion nodded. "But I only want to explain things once; so it'll have to wait till we get there."

"Get where?" Spike asked. There was no change in the scenery anywhere; just the rolling moorland stretching in all directions.

"Just head east," the other gestured vaguely. "I'll go on ahead. Better make it snappy!"

"What?" Spike could hardly believe his ears. "You want me to...here, get back here!"

But the little man was gone.

Spike let loose a stream of curses. They relieved his feelings but did nothing to assuage his predicament, so he started walking in the direction the little man had claimed was east.

He walked for what seemed like hours.

"Sod it all," he muttered, "maybe I'm moving in circles!"

He stopped suddenly, and yelled "Hellooooo!"

Not even an echo answered him.

Spike sighed, and kept walking- largely because he didn't know what else to do. After a time, he noticed he was climbing up as the moor swelled to a gentle rise.

"At least it'll offer a bit of a view," Spike spoke aloud, encouraged. "Should be able to see for miles in all directions!"

In the event, he saw nothing at all.

After toiling up for another long stretch, he finally round the crest of the hill.

And crashed right into the last person he'd ever expected to see...

Again.

"Spike!" yelled Buffy.

"Buf...Summers!" shouted Spike.

"What are you doing here!" they screamed together.

Buffy regained a semblance of composure first. "I saw Whistler when I woke up on the moor," she explained. "He told me to walk due west, and..."

Spike's groan cut her off. "This pillock Whistler, he wouldn't be a short chubby bloke dressed like a cartoon, would he?"

"I resent that." Whistler was suddenly standing beside them, munching on a cheese sandwich. "I have my own sense of style."

Buffy uttered a surprised squeak, while Spike swore loudly.

"Here, you stand still for half a tick!" he ordered. "We've got questions, you know!"

"First, where are we?" Buffy jumped in hastily. "This isn't... heaven, is it?"

"Nahh," Whistler went on chewing.

Spike lost what little patience he had. "If it's not heaven, and it's not hell, then where is the bleedin' place?"

Whistler finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on his pants. "Limbo."

"We're in limbo?" Buffy looked around dubiously.

"Part of it," Whistler confirmed. "There's lots of different parts. You just ended up here temporarily, until you decide."

"Decide what?" Spike prompted.

"What you want to do. Here's the story, kids..."

"Here, I'm 127 years old," Spike objected.

"Compared to me, you're a kid," Whistler smirked. "Here's the deal. Normally the Slayer here would be whisked right into heaven."

"But? Blotted her copybook, did she?"

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy ordered. "Whistler, why am I here? And, why is Spike, of all people, here with me?"

Whistler sighed. "It's the old problem of balance, kid. The forces of good really took a hit when you went down for the count."

"But, what about the new Slayer?" Buffy asked in a tiny voice.

Whistler looked her in the eye. "There isn't one."

"What?" Buffy cried. "But when one Slayer dies, another is called! "

A sudden thought gave her pause. "We ARE dead, right?"

"Oh yeah," Whistler agreed. "No doubt about thta. But, a Slayer was already called to replace you, a long time ago. Remember?"

"Kendra," Buffy murmured.

"Yep. One replacement Slayer per customer. To get another, Faith would have to die, and since..."

"Since she's a psycho fugitive, she's not exactly active on the slaying front," Buffy said bitterly.

"You said it, kid. And a Big Bad is baout to make some major moves."

Spike had a chilling sense of what was coming next.

"That's why you both get another option," Whistler said slowly. "You can join your pal Kendra in heaven. Nice place, you'd like it."

"Or?" Buffy asked steadily.

"Or- stay as you are. Go back to earth, and try to help out."

Spike watched the Slayer closely, fascinated as always by the shifting emotions on her face. So absorbed was the vampire that he almost didn't notice that Whistler had turned his attention to him.

"You're a different story, Spike. Things got more of a twist, you might say."

"No, I sodding well wouldn't," snapped the vampire. "How can I when I don't even know what you're going on about?"

Whistler pursed his lips. "Normally, you'd be in hell by now," he said bluntly. "But, there's certain ...see, you're a problem. I won't lie to you, you've done major bad in your time, but you've also done some good. Now, the two don't balance, not by a long shot. But if you want, you got a choice."

"A choice?" Buffy glared at Whistler. "Choice to do what? And what do you mean, go back to earth?"

"Well. That's the tricky part." Whistler rubbed his nose. "You can't just go back like nothing happened. 'Cause you're both, you know, dead. The power to restore life is rarely granted."

Spike scowled. "Are you saying that we've got to be reincarnated or something?"

"That's one way," Whistler conceded. "But that takes too long; things are getting urgent. So you decide, here and now, if you wnat the third option. We've ruled out resurrection, we've put the kibbox on reincarnation. That just leaves..." he paused expectantly.

Spike and Buffy looked blankly at one another.

Whistler shook his head sorrowfully, like a disappointed teacher stuck with a particularly dim class.

Then he began to...whistle.

Spike's jaw dropped. "This is no time to fool aound, you tell us..." he broke off at the sight of Buffy's stunned face.

"That...that's the theme from..."

Whistler nodded sympathetically. "Kid, it's the only choice we got. Sorry."

"WHAT choice?" Spike yelled, feeling he was ready to explode with frustration. "The theme from WHAT?"

Buffy's lip trembled. "It's the theme from...from Casper, Spike. Don't you understand? We're going back as..."

It hit him with the impact of a sledgehammer.

"Ghosts!"

Now that the cat was out of the bag, Whistler tried to cheer them.

"It's not so bad, kids," he promised. "You can walk though walls! And float objects in the air, even materialize once you get some experience under your belts. It's all just a question of practice!"

Spike was dubious, but figured anything had to be better than hell.

Buffy was more vocal. "If we're ghosts, how're we supposed to fight the Big Bad?"

Whistler shrugged. "You'll think of something; you were always very resourceful."

"How long do we do this ghost routine?" Spike demanded.

Whistler rubbed his chin. "Pretty much forever."

"What? " Buffy squeaked. "No!"

"It's like this," the demon explained. "once we get things set up, we'd like to get some use out of...I mean, no point going back for a brief time, huh? So you decide, knowing you'll be ghosts..."

"Forever," Buffy supplied.

Whistler considered. "Until Judgment Day, anyway. THEN you can go on to heaven; and Spike here...well, if he's fixed the balance, he gets to go too. If not..." Whistler jerked his thumb down.

Spike thought hard. One thing he was sure of...he REALLY would rather put off going to hell. He nodded.

The Slayer wavered; but he'd been around her enough to recognize the essential selflessness of her nature, and in the end she opted, as he had known she would, to go back and help.

"What're we all standing about for?" Spike was impatient; he'd seen enough of limbo. "If we're going to do the haunt thing, let's go to it!"

Whistler says we can only return on one of the high festivals," Buffy said testily. "On Samhain, or Lammas, or..."

"Beltane." Whistler was suddenly there; in that inexplicable manner of his. "It's Beltane, a fine time to start something new. Good luck, kids!"

His voice faded, and once again Spike experienced the velvety darkness with its vivid streaks of color, the same unintelligible voices, the bright light.

"Oof!" He landed on something soft...he opened his eyes to stare down into the Slayer's pretty face.

"Unh, get off me, Spike." She pushed at him with her little hands.

He moved reluctantly. Ghost or no ghost, he found he had the same physical reaction to her that he'd always had in the past. He pulled his coat closer around him.

"Isn't that your crypt over there?" Buffy pointed. "I think we're in the graveyard."

"Yeah." Instinctively he held out his hand to help her to her feet, realized what he was doing, and hastily dropped it.

"What do you say, Summers? Should we head into town, or.."

"Spike!" Buffy clutched his arm, and he found himself staring at a simple granite cross containing the inscription 'Buffy Anne Summers- The Chosen One.'

"That's my grave." Her voice sounded strange as she stepped closer. "That's where they put me...after Morgan killed me."

"Come away, Buffy!" Spike ordered, in something approaching panic. He did not want her thinking about Morgan; or about the circumstances of her death.

By mutual consent they headed into town.

"Spike," Buffy murmured as they passed the Sun Cinema, "I never heard of that movie." The marquee advertized a film titled 'Hellblazer.'

Spike shrugged. "I don't suppose you've heard of every new movie out there."

Buffy ignored him. "That used to be a sporting goods store over there- but now it' s a bakery."

"What's your point, Slayer?" Spike snapped.

Buffy turned to him, eyes filled with fear. "What's going on, Spike? What day is this? What YEAR is this?"

They stared at the newspaper, stunned. May 1, 2013.

"Twelve years," Buffy whispered.

Spike reached for her hand, remembering something he'd once heard- that earth time was different from time in other dimensions. He had gone after Morgan within one day of Buffy's death, but somehow the seemingly brief interval they had been in limbo had expanded.

"Let's go to your house, Slayer," he suggested. He kept tight hold of her hand, for she was trembling so violently he was afraid she'd break down if he didn't.

The House on Reviello Drive still looked much the same. Through the dining room window, Spike and Buffy could observe Joyce, seated at the table with another woman.

"That's Sheila Rosenberg," Buffy said softly. Then, "My mother looks happy. Doesn't she?"

Joyce and Sheila were evidently planning a vacation together, studying travel brochures. From scraps of conversation they could overhear, it appeared that, following the deaths of both Buffy and Willow's father, the two women had been drawn together by loneliness and had become good friends.

"Spike," Buffy began soberly, "do you think everyone has forgotten me?"

He opened his mouth to say, "Of course, you ninny, everyone's expendable."

Instead, to his horror, what came out was," Never, Slayer. Just because the first grief passes, it doesn't mean we forget the ones we loved. Your mum still thinks about you, but now it's more about ...happy times, not sad ones."

"I guess that's better," Buffy admitted. "But I'd hate to be forgotten."

"Forgotten? You? Not bloody likely, Summers!"

That brought out a half-smile; and Buffy remarked as they turned away, "I wanted things to stay exactly the same. But I guess that everything changes."

"Not everything," Spike managed as they turned a corner and stood stock-still.

The sign painted on the front of the small store-front building read 'Angel Investigations.'

Buffy was shivering more than ever; with a muffled curse Spike drew her into a darkened dorway across the road.

She raised her brimming eyes to his. "He must have moved back to Sunnydale," she said brokenly. "After I died."

The sound of the door opening made the both tense as a tall, dark-haired couple emerged.

"Cordelia. And Wesley." Buffy said softly.

Cordelia and Wesley walked together, shoulders touching. The two shades flowed after them, easily keeping pace.

"Sunnydale Museum of Natural History." Spike stared at the tall gothic building.

"I fought a mummy girl here, once," Buffy remembered.

And Angelus and Dru had killed the museum director, Spike recalled, but didn't mention.

Wesley and Cordelia hurried into the side entrace, where a security guard opened the door, then locked it after them.

"Now what do we do?" Buffy asked gloomily.

Spike remembered Whistler's instructions; and took a tighter grip on her hand. He stepped forward resolutely- right through one of the thick stone walls. It was a curious sensation, almost like falling into a pool of water.

"Ohhh," Buffy's eyes widened, "that was ...sort of..."

"Neat," Spike supplied.

They smiled happily at one another; then Buffy thought about what they were there for. They drifted hastily through three floors of the dark and silent museum, until, at the top, they heard voices.

"Up here," Buffy urged, pulling him toward an oak door with a brass plate that read 'R. Giles, Executive Director.' They didn't pause or bother to open it, but instead flowed right through into a book-lined room with a conference table and thick burgundy drapes swathing the long windows.

It was a handsome room; but Buffy's attention was immediately focused on the six people who sat at the table.

A dark-haired woman who looked vaguely familiar glanced up to ask, "Is there a draft in here? I feel a chill."

Buffy clutched Spike's arm. "They mean us!"

"So? Not a lot we can do about it, is there, pet? And you can stop hissing in my ear, because they can't hear us, either!"

"Oh," Buffy realized her mistake; but kept staring at her friends.

Of them all, Giles had changed the least, she decided, her hungry eyes devouring his dear face. The years between forty-six and fifty-eight had wrought fewer changes than those between twenty and thirty-two.

But the others...already there were streaks of gray in Xander's dark hair, and her heart clenched as she wondered how they'd got there. Yet he looked obviously handsome in a way he hadn't in high school.

Wesley had some gray hair too; well, he'd be in his forties by now.

The women had changed too, but mostly for the better. Cordelia was more beautiful than ever; and Willow had retained her elfin features and bright red hair.

Buffy frowned as she studied the third woman..."Spike, it's Amy! Amy Madison! She must have finally got de-ratted!"

Amy was speaking, "But Giles, we can't hope to mount a raid on the place."

"We have to do something," Willow leaned forward determinedly. "Angel has saved all our lives; and we can't just leave him in Morgan's hands."

"Well duh!" Cordelia said snappishly. "We want Angel back as much as you do; without him, we're unemployed!"

"Yes, Cordy, let's keep our priorities straight." Xander said icily.

Wesley glared at Xander. "Please have a care how you speak to my fiancee!"

"Hear that?" Buffy said excitedly. "Wesley and Cordy are engaged!"

"That must be the longest engagement on record," Xander was still sniping. "What is it, six years? Or seven?"

"You should talk!" Cordelia retorted. "You've never even been engaged! And it's only four years; the first three we were just living together."

"Really, we do not have time for this," Giles reproved them. "We're in the midst of a crisis. We don't know Morgan's plans for Angel; but we must assume she means him harm."

Buffy pinched Spike's arm.

"Bloody hell! Watch it, Slayer! I may be dead, but I still have feelings."

She paid no mind. "Did you hear? Morgan has Angel! She's the vampire who killed me."

And me, Spike thought.

"What do we know about Morgan? " Willow asked expectantly.

Giles cleared his throat. "Here's what Xander and I were able to discover- Mary Morgan was a former Slayer."

"What?" Amy jerked to attention.

"To be specific," Continued Giles, "she was one of the two Slayer kills credited to Spike."

He'd known it was coming and managed to keep his face impassive, even when Buffy stiffened and dropped his hand.

"Did he...you know, grrr?" Willow made her vampire face.

"Yes. Or allowed another vampire to turn her. At any rate, she then became a powerful and deadly master vampire."

Giles placed a thick manila folder on the table. "She just calls herself Morgan now. I've been tracking her for twelve years, ever since ..."

He stopped abruptly, and Ripper showed plainly behind his eyes. "Until now, I have failed to destroy her."

"WE failed," Xander corrected. "I swore on Buffy's grave that one day I'd put that bitch in the ground. And I will."

He did not raise his voice and his cold expression never altered; but something about those quiet words made Spike shiver.

Wesley paged through the folder. "Impressive. You've charted every kill she's responsible for, her patterns of movement, even her known associates."

"Never mind that," interrupted Cordelia. "Look, I know you guys want revenge for Buffy, and that's fine. But this has to be less about killing Morgan and more about saving Angel!"

There was a long silence and Amy glanced cautiously at the redhead. "Willow?"

The witch sighed. "Cordelia's right; we have to save Angel first."

Xander broke into a storm of protest that, for the first time, gave Buffy a glimpse of the boy he had been.

Giles said, cutting off the tirade, "I thought you shared our feelings, Willow. It's been..a long road; and you've been beside us the entire way. If your sentiments have changed..."

"They haven't!" Willow exclaimed. "Losing Buffy was the worst thing that ever happened to me- worse than my injury! I want Morgan dead as much as you do, but you know if Buffy could come back she'd tell us to go get Angel!"

Giles nodded reluctantly. "You're right."

Xander shook his head stubbornly. "I'm not letting Morgan go! If Angel has to die so we can take her out..."

"Xander." Willow eyed her friend steadily. "You know what Buffy would say, what Buffy would do."

"I'm not so sure," Buffy muttered. "I mean, I really want them to kill Morgan!"

Spike stifled a chuckle. Then he remembered that she knew the truth about Mary Morgan; or at least some part of the truth, and his heart sank.

Xander was still staring resentfully at Willow. "I've devoted my life to hunting Morgan! "

"He has," Giles confirmed. "He's been the best assistant I could hope for. I've spent my life fighting demons; and Xander will carry on my work."

"We all will, Giles," Willow said earnestly. "Including Angel! That's why we need to save him."

Xander and Giles allowed their eyes to meet; then Xander sighed, and his broad shoulders slumped.

"Okay, Will," he said, "You win. But someway, sonehow, I swear I will destroy Morgan!"

Willow's relief was evident.

Giles removed his glasses. "Tonight is Beltane; the vampires will be celebrating. We'll launch a raid tomorrow, just before midnight when the majority will be out hunting."

"Thank you, Giles," Wesley said softly.

Giles nodded to the other Watcher. "We'll meet here at sundown tomorrow. I think that's all for tonight."

Xander darted forward. "Will, shall I carry you downstairs to your car?"

"No thanks," Willow answered politely.

Amy was less polite. "She's not an invalid, Xander. She drives that car better than I do!"

With an odd lurching movement Willow stood erect, grasping an elegant silver-topped cane.

Buffy gasped. "Will, your leg!"

Where Willow's left leg had been was now a prosthetic. But she moved briskly to the door with scarcely a trace of a limp.

"Sorry, Will," Xander apologized. "I didn't mean to be Mr. Protective."

"It's okay. After those months in a wheelchair, I swore that once I could walk again I'd never let anyone treat me like an invalid. We'll kick some demon ass tomorrow, and I'll be there!"

Buffy's eyes filled with tears as she watched Willow and Amy leave. Automatically, she started to drift after them.

"Wait!" Spike hissed. "I think it might be better to stay with Giles and Xander!"

"Fine!" Buffy snapped. "You do that; I'll meet you back here later!"

She floated out; and Spike was left feeling strangely bereft.

He tried to convince himself that he didn't miss her. "Not so bad...can put off things a bit longer. Mary Bloody Morgan...Dru used to call her Bloody Mary. At least she did at first. Until...That's going to be one hell of a showdown, that is. All the better to put it off."

But it didn't work. He didn't much fancy admitting it; but he'd been more pleased than not to discover he was a ghost. He'd been certain he was instantly doomed to eternal hellfire.

Instead, he was still around, in a manner of speaking. And still with the Slayer. Two sources of contentment- though he quaked at the thought of the explanations she was going to demand.

Xander and Giles finally were ready to leave; but Spike decided not to follow them, reminding himself that Buffy would be turning up.

He waited impatiently as the clock ticked away the hours.

The thought slid insidiously into his mind- what if she didn't come back?

What if she'd been so disgusted by what she'd heard that she decided she was better off without him?

Her fingers brushed across the back of his neck; he yowled, jumping nearly a foot.

"Stop that!"

Buffy looked at him strangely. "Relax, it's only me."

He said grumpily, "It's about time! I've been hanging around this place for hours!"

"It hasn't been that long," Buffy protested.

He opened his mouth to tell her that it had seemed an eternity; then shut it when he realized how needy he would sound.

"Guess what?" she burbled. "Willow and Amy live together, in Amy's old home at the edge of town. She inherited it when her father died. It's a regular witches' wonder in there! And they bought the magic shop in town; they have a mail-order business all over the world."

"That's fine. But it has what, exactly, to do with Mary Sodding Morgan?" Spike snapped, exasperated.

Seconds later, he understood he'd made a major error.

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine, Spike, let's talk about Morgan."

"Um, did you know Xander has been Giles' assistant for a decade?" Frantically Spike tried to buy time.

It didn't work.

"So Morgan was one of the Slayers you fought," Buffy said accusingly.

Spike swallowed hard, but there was no hope for it.

"It was a fair fight, Summers," he insisted. "She'd been tracking Drusilla; and would have staked her if I hadn't..."

With frightening clarity the scene was vivid in his mind...Morgan down, bleeding from his bite, but he'd done no more than mark her for his kill.

Dru's childlike treble, "Mayn't I have her, Spike? Miss Edith wants to play!"

He shook his head, and Dru's dark eyes had shone with tears. She began to whimper.

"All right, ducks," he said hastily. "Just for a little while; and then call me and I'll kill her. It's best that way."

But Drusilla never saw the larger picture; she only knew how much she liked the taste of the Slayer's blood. She'd gone ahead and turned Mary Morgan, not grasping that a turned Slayer was...

"Powerful," Buffy supplied. "How badly did she hurt Drusilla?"

"Almost killed her," Spike muttered. "But I managed to save her..." His voice trailed off.

Buffy nodded; and said no more.

He stood it as long as he could.

"Buffy?"

He hardly ever used her name; it made her look at him.

"I'm sorry."

Her jaw dropped. "Sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry you fought her; or sorry you made a gift of her to your loony girlfriend?"

He met her eyes defiantly. "Both. But this is true- Mary Morgan came after us. We were broke, up against it; couldn't afford her protection money."

Spike laughed harshly at the shocked expression on Buffy's face. "What- you think all Slayers are incorruptible? Mary Morgan had quite a nice racket going; lived pretty well off the vampires and demons who could afford her blood money! Besides, " he glanced away deliberately, "I've always been afraid to die."

The admission hung between them. Her expression softened slightly.

"And is it as bad as you thought?"

Spike shook his head ruefully. "Takes some getting used to, pet, but I'll adapt."

He cringed as the word left his mouth- first he'd called her Buffy, and now 'pet.' What was the matter with him?

But she gave him her little half-smile. "We may as well spend what's left of the night here. That couch looks like a comfy place to sleep."

"Sleep?" Spike was startled. "Since when do ghosts need to sleep?" Even as he spoke, he realized that he did feel tired.

Buffy shrugged. "I'm sleepy; I guess we need to rest sometimes, anyway."

She settled herself on Giles' green-patterned couch, and patted the edge. "Want half?"

"That isn't half," he argued. "More like a bloody third!"

She gave an exaggerrated sigh and slid over a couple of inches. "There!"

Spike took off his leather duster and used it to cover them.

"Good thing I had my coat on when I was killed," he said thoughtlessly, then flinched. The last thing he wanted was to start her asking questions about how he'd gotten killed.

But she was already almost asleep. "Mmmm, I'm glad they buried me in this white dress; it's absolutely gorgeous!"

He smiled; no matter what befell her, she was still so essentially feminine.

They fell asleep in one another's arms.

Xander woke them early when he unlocked the office door.

"He looks so unhappy," Buffy said softly, watching her friend.

To Spike, Xander didn't look unhappy as much as grim.

"Oh Xand," Buffy cried out, "I wish I could help you!"

Xander stopped, staring hard in their direction.

"Think he sees us, pet? " Spike asked,scarcely daring to move.

"I...I don't think so," Buffy's voice was uncertain. "Whistler said it would take practice, and we haven't practiced."

But Xander continued to stare for one long slow moment. Then, almost reluctantly, he turned and left.

"Close call," Spike remarked.

Then he saw Buffy, eyes closed, tiny hands clenched.

"What the bloody..."

"Shh, don't interrupt my concentration. I'm trying to materialize!"

"What for?" Spike flopped back onto the couch, grinning lazily. "You could give your mates a scare; that might be fun, but with my luck, your Watcher would do an exorcism on me."

"But Spike, Whistler said in time we could actually become corporeal! We could talk to people."

Spike yawned. "I don't want to talk to those blighters."

"We could feel the fresh air and sunshine," Buffy added.

Spike was unimpressed. "I've gone over a century without sunshine, and I don't fancy I'll miss it now."

"We could take a shower! "

"Pet, we're ghosts, we don't get dir...wait, did you say shower?"

Buffy beamed at him. "Wouldn't that feel good?"

Now that Spike thought about it, a shower would be a pleasure, even for a ghost. Esecially if he got to share one with her.

He sternly ordered his mind back on track. He'd come too far, been through too much, to be distracted by a little thing like seeing the Slayer naked.

NAKED?

Did that mean, could it mean, that while they were corporeal they could SHAG?

Not that she ever would.

And even if she would, it wouldn't be with another vampire.

And even if it was, it wouldn't be with him.

Still....

"You're right, pet! We need to practice!"

She smiled in delight at having won her point; and at the end of another hour they were pleased to find they could each achieve a silvery outline.

"Which," Spike pointed out, "nobody could tell for bloody certain was us!"

Buffy laughed happily. "But we're making progress. Next we have to try to make ourselves heard. What if we try rapping on the table or something?"

"Sounds like it belongs in a third-rate horror show," Spike complained. "House on Haunted Hill or something."

"Well, I'm going to try it." Buffy insisted.

Spike suggested she try it in a less isolated part of the museum; and they drifted through the wall and floated down the stairs.

"This place looks great," Buffy said, admiring the displays. "Giles really fixed things up."

"From what I was able to gather, pet, it was Xander who did most of it. Giles is utterly absorbed in his demon research these days. It's Xander who does the grunt work."

"I hope he has something in his life other than work," Buffy sighed.

"Why's that, luv?" Spike could have kicked himself the moment the words left his mouth. Bad enough he'd taken to calling her 'pet' but 'luv'?

But she was still fretting over Xander. "Because I don't want him to be alone. I don't want anyone to be alone. Willow and Amy have each other. And Wesley, Cordelia, and Angel have made...a sort of family, in a way."

I remember, Spike thought somberly. Once upon a time it was Angel and me, and a dark-haired enchantress who talked to dolls and sang to the moon.

But he knew he no longer missed Drusilla; and sometimes he wondered if he ever had. Or was it just as Buffy said- that more than anything, more than dying, Spike had feared loneliness?

Spike acquired a firm grip on Buffy's hand. It was rather like holding a cloud; but it was better than nothing.

"Wonder what happened to Anya? Or Olivia?" Buffy mused. "Willow and Amy have been together for a decade."

"How'd she lose her leg?" Spike asked curiously.

"Morgan," Buffy flared angrily. "They went after her about a week after my death; and she...she..."

His hand tightened. "Easy, luv. They were lucky to survive it- against a Slayer turned."

"I know," Buffy agreed quietly. "They were all hurt; but Xander somehow got everyone out alive. And Willow manages fine now."

"Seems blooming to me," Spike offered, feeling a sudden urge to drive the anxiety from her eyes.

As he'd hoped, the Slayer brightened. "Yes, they're very happy, she and Amy. And they have this little black kitten they named Ripper! Isn't that cute?"

Spike grinned, pleased to see her smile again.

"It's funny," Buffy continued. "Willow and Amy grew up together; but they were never really close. Who'd have thought they'd end up a couple?"

"You never know about these things, luv," Spike advised. "People can fall in love suddenly- after years of togetherness. Sometimes it's just that the timing has been wrong! Like...like..."

"Who?" she asked, wonderingly.

"Wesley and Cordelia!" Spike seized on them with relief.

Buffy giggled. "That's so weird. But Cordy always liked him, even when the rest of us thought he was a wimp."

"You don't fight demons for years and stay a wimp," Spike reminded her.

"Speaking of fighting demons, how do we help them against Morgan?" Buffy asked expectantly.

Spike frowned. "Depends on whether Angel still has his soul."

Buffy gasped. "You mean, he might have lost it?"

"Morgan didn't kidnap him because he's such a soddin' great detective," Spike growled. "What do you know about Beltane, lu...uh, pet?"

"It's one of the big Magic festivals," she answered eagerly.

"Yes, that's part of it," Spike acknowledged. "It's a time of...well, passion. Vampires often choose their consorts then."

"Ohh, we're too late!" Buffy wailed. "Wasn't Beltane last night?"

"It lasts three nights for vampires." Spike informed her. "We may still have time."

"You think Morgan wants Angel to be her consort?"

"Seems likely, luv. Women always seem to go for the dark, broody type."

Amazingly she giggled. "He does brood a lot, doesn't he?"

"That he does, pet. Now me, I make the best of things! When I got this bloody chip in my head, did I go all dark and agonized and 'Oh lord help me make amends for the evil I have done!' No, I did not!"

"Well, you should have!" Buffy retorted.

He cocked one dark eyebrow. "Why? Would it have made any difference?"

She gave him her patented little frown. "Difference in what?"

Spike glanced away. "Doesn't matter, does it? Let's make a plan for tonight."

Early evening found the six friends and two ghostly observers once again assembled in Giles' office.

"I can't think why it's so cold in here," Amy complained.

Xander looked annoyed. "Never bothered you before."

"But now it does." Amy got up and began prowling the room. She stood by the long windows. "That chill isn't coming from here."

"I feel it too." Cordelia huddled in her cashmere sweater.

"It's quite warm outdoors," Wesley commented thoughtfully, "and heat rises, so the office ought to be..."

"Here!" Amy stopped by the couch, inches from Spike and Buffy.

"Hello, Amy," Buffy said in a normal tone.

Amy frowned. "There's something...odd here."

"Let me see." Crdelia jumped up and hurried over. "Do you smell something?"

"See? I told you we have to shower," Buffy hissed in Spike's ear.

"Stop that, pet! We do NOT have a hygiene problem! We're ghosts, not zombies."

"There's a faint scent of...vanilla," Cordelia decided. "And leather. And...cigarettes?"

"She's making that up!" Spike was outraged. "I haven't smoked in..."

"A full moon!" Giles exclaimed. "There's a full moon this evening; that may affect our mission."

"Where will Morgan be holding Angel?" Cordelia asked, moving back to the table.

"No doubt he'll be at the Bronze; the Beltane festival is a rather important one to vampires," Wesley explained. "Even for a former Slayer."

"It's just like Spike to turn a Slayer," Xander said coldly. "Bleach boy never played by the rules."

"Still, I'd have thought Spike was smarter than that," Willow put in. "Guess not."

"Oh, thanks bunches, Red," Spike snarled.

"It WASN'T the smartest thing you ever did," Buffy pointed out. "Not the dumb thing they think you did- turning a Slayer. But the dumb thing you REALLY did- handing her over to Drusilla."

Spike bit his lip to hold back a protest. He didn't see how he'd ever make her understand his devotion to Dru, his weakness where she was concerned. For months after they'd parted, he'd still been convinced that he couldn't survive without her; that the loneliness he feared would come crashing in to drown him.

That was the reason he'd taken up with Harmony; that and his discovery that she'd gone to high school with the Slayer and her friends. It didn't, couldn't work, of course. They'd split up; and he'd drifted back into the orbit of the Slayer.

And Buffy kept him sane. She kept him so preoccupied with his resentment of her, of all she was and all he wanted, that he never really felt alone...

"I fell in love," Spike said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, I know," Buffy nodded vigourously. "Drusilla meant so much to you; guess it all comes down to what you told me once, 'Love isn't brians, it's blood.'"

Spike's jaw dropped; but he realized there was nothing he could say without revealing everything.

"They're leaving now," Buffy said suddenly.

Xander was on his feet, distributing weapons and rapping out orders. "Giles and I will go in from the roof, Wesley and Cordelia from the back, Willow and Amy in front. "

"Well, who bloody died and made him General Bonaparte?" Spike wondered.

"I did," reminded Buffy. "Xander always had a good grasp of strategy; he'd have done well in the military."

Spike snorted. "That whelp would have been court-martialed within the week! The ideal military model was your soldier boy Riley Fish..."

"Finn," Buffy corrected.

"Yeah, the big brainless type. Only too pleased to have some higher-up do his thinking for him. Can't imagine what you ever saw in him!"

"He was nice," Buffy argued, defensively. "He loved me, and I loved him."

"Which is why you never even gave him a thought until I brought him up," sneered Spike.

"You take that back!" Buffy was furious.

"Why should I? The soldier boy was a real thrill, I could tell. I bet you only shagged him to disguise the fact you had nothiing to talk about!"

"That's not true!" Buffy yelled.

"C'mon, pet, admit it. Riley was so boring you never wanted to talk to him anyway!"

"He was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was not! Ohh, you make me so mad, you..."

"So what if I do? At least I don't make you yawn!"

She gave him a smoldering look; then flounced off after Giles.

One look at her face convinced Spike that it might be better to make himself scarce for awhile.

"I don't care; I was bloody right!" he told himself stoutly, drifting after Willow and Amy. "She forgot all about that soldier boy; yeah, very forgettable, that lad was. What's more, she knows it!"

Still, he drooped unhappily; why had he been the one to drag the git out of the murky past? Of course he knew the reason- jealousy had always been his downfall.

The Bronze was packed with demons as well as vampires; evidently Morgan had expanded her rule beyond the local vampire population. Spike frowned, he didn't mind taking on any sort of demon; but he did like to know something about them first.

Then he remembered- he couldn't really jump into the fight unless he somehow materialized.

Suddenly uneasy, he looked around for Buffy and found her in the middle of the dance floor.

For one moment the years rolled back; and he was once again concealed in the shadows, watching the Slayer dancing with her friends. But even as he watched, she stiffened and stared at the stage.

Spike followed the direction of her gaze.

Angel, shirtless yet clad in black leather pants and vest, sat beside Morgan, shimmering in a magnificent green gown. The pair of them were ringed by a vigilant circle of vampires.

The music was loud; Spike turned to survey the crowd, noting that all Buffy's friends were in position.

He turned again to look at Morgan; and nearly yelled aloud.

Buffy was on the stage, whispering in Angel's ear.

Morgan scowled angrily, and pulled her silk wrap closely about her bare shoulders. She got to her feet, pacing restlessly to the edge of the stage.

That's when Xander made his move, rappelling down from the catwalk above the stage, fighting his way to Morgan with his favorite crossbow in his hand.

He almost made it. Even as he reached the stage, Wesley and Cordelia were there, staking the vampires nearest Angel.

Willow and Amy were casting; a thick fog enveloped the stage.

Spike arrived just in time to see Xander loose the bolt; and Morgan seize her nearest guard and use his body as a shield. He disintegrated into a pile of dust and Morgan stood facing Xander, with the remaining bolt targetted at her heart.

"Xander," Wesley said tensely.

Angel's arm was locked around Cordelia's neck as he held her hard against him.

"Drop your weapon," he ordered Xander, "or I'll snap her neck."

For a long, nerve-stretching moment, no one moved.

Then the crossbow clattered to the ground.

Spike didn't wait. He whirled, grabbed Willow, and shoved her roughly toward the door. He couldn't manage to put much force behind the push; but he hoped she'd get the hint.

It was too late for Amy; he could see a green-skinned demon already twisting her arms behind her back.

But Giles was still on the catwalk...Spike floated up to the ceiling.

Giles had been struggling with a flame-thrower, angling it to get a clear shot at Morgan...but there was no way he could pull it off in the few minutes remaining before the demons captured him.

Spike kicked over the equipment.

"Blast!" Giles bent to retrieve it as the first vampire climbed up.

Spike kicked him off the ladder into space. For this two things were responsible- he took the other vampire entirely unaware, and in recoiling from the kick, he lost his balance and slipped.

But Spike had no quarrel with success. Giles was tugging desperately at a small air-vent.

"Here mate, I'll give you a hand," Spike said urgently, keeping one eye peeled for approaching vamps.

Together they wrenched open the grate; and Giles crawled into it. Spike merely floated through the wall to the other side.

To be met by a tearful Buffy.

"She has them," she wept. "Morgan."

"She doesn't have Giles or Willow, pet," Spike said firmly, hoping it was the truth. "And together they've got more brains than any ten people."

Buffy continued to cry. "Stop that!" Spike said sharply, as Giles made his way down from the roof. "Crying won't help anything!"

She gave a funny little strangled gasp; then stopped her sobbing, though tears continued to roll down her face.

He looked at her, half-regretting his harshness.

Finally she whispered, "I couldn't help him, Spike."

"Angel?" he asked with a stab of jealousy.

"Xander," she replied sadly. "I couldn't...stop...Angelus!"

Spike grabbed her. "Forget that now...get ready!"

Willow's car screeched to a halt next to Giles. He wrenched open the front door and tumbled into the passenger seat as the two ghosts flowed into the back.

Willow floored the accelerator. "How'd you get away, Giles?"

"I escaped through an air-conditioning vent," Giles explained. "Just tore out the grating and climbed out. I suppose it was the adrenaline."

Spike snorted. "Adrenaline! It was me!"

And then he felt her lips, whisper-soft, brushing across his cheek.

Stunned, he turned to stare at her.

She had never before kissed him; not since that one night when the witch's spell had gone mad and his world had been turned...

"Turvey-topsy." He said it aloud, hearing the sense of wonder in his voice.

Her face fell. "I just wanted ...to thank you, Spike. For saving Giles."

Willow drove like a rocket to the house she shared with Amy.

"We'll be safe now; there are very powerful wards all around this place," she promised, unlocking the door.

"I don't think we need to be concerned," Giles assured her. "They'll have returned to their Beltane celebration by now; they won't be worried about us."

Willow disappeared into the kitchen. "I 'll make coffee; then we'll delve into the books."

Spike suddenly found himself fending off an assault from a half-grown kitten who seemed to take exception to the vampire's presence.

"Shhh, Ripper!" Buffy scolded the kitten, who was snarling at Spike.

"What ails that cat?" Giles demanded irritably, looking up from his spellbook.

"I don't know," Willow said worriedly. "Maybe he misses Amy?"

Giles grunted. "I say we go back during the day. That will be our best chance."

"No, Giles," Willow said earnestly. "Tomorrow's the final night of Beltane; and everyone'll be distracted! That's the best time."

"Distracted by what?" Giles asked curiously.

"Basically, it's one huge orgy," Willow told him. "What I thought...suppose we do an augmentation spell? To exaggerate the natural effects of Beltane?"

"That sounds feasible," Giles admitted. "But we'll also need a protection spell- to avoid getting caught up in the frenzy?"

"We'll be protected to a degree, but not entirely," Willow warned. "Just remember to focus on the main goal."

"Killing Morgan," Giles and Spike spoke in unison.

Willow frowned reprovingly. "Saving our friends. If that means we have to let Morgan go, THIS time, then that's what it means!"

"I've hunted her for years," Giles said flatly. "Ever since..." his voice trailed off.

Willow did not back down. "Like I told Xander, it's what Buffy would want. If she could be here...if she could come to us from anywhere, what do you think she'd say?"

"Fry Morgan," Buffy muttered.

Spike forced back a chuckle.

But Giles sighed in defeat. "Very well, Willow, we'll rescue the others. Although perhaps Angel..."

"Not now, Giles." Willow got wearily to her feet. "We need to grab a few hours sleep. The guest room is the first door on the left, just down this hall. And there's an adjoining bath. I guess I'll see you in the morning."

"What about us?" Spike groused.

"We can sleep in the den." Buffy led the way. "The couch opens into a sleep-sofa."

"They use this room if they have an extra guest. " Buffy explained. She slid beneath the covers.

"What guests do they usually have?" Spike asked, gingerly easing in beside her.

"Only Michael," Buffy admitted. "He's Amy's best friend from high school. He joined a dance company and travels a lot; but he visits Amy three or four times a year."

"A regular menage a trois," Spike said gleefully. "Wouldn't have thought the little witch had it in her!"

Buffy sat up in bed and glared at him. "You're a pig, Spike!"

"What? It's natural to want sex, Slayer! And don't act all prissy; I seem to recall you allowed a go or two, back in your college days!"

"Oooh, I hate you!" Buffy screamed, lauching herself at him.

They wrestled pointlessly for a minute or two; then he got the upper hand. In one swift motion he pinned her arms above her head; and kissed her hard.

She went completely still.

"Uh-oh," Spike thought. "Now I've done it! She already hates me, she..."

He opened his eyes and got a distinct shock. "...wants me."

Buffy's eyes were shining, her lips moist.

"Spike?" her voice was tremulous.

He kissed her again, lingering to explore her rosebud mouth. He broke the kiss and stared at her, waiting.

"Oooh," Buffy sighed blissfully. And reached for him once more.

They kissed with growing eagerness now that the fear of rejection was gone.

The Slayer's sea-blue eyes were wide. "Spike, I felt that kiss! Really felt it, all the way down to my toes. Do you think we're learning to materialize?"

He blinked, surprised. Then he saw that he could indeed feel her- the tiny perfect body in his arms, the velvet of her lips, the silky softness of her hair.

He swallowed. "You're here, pet."

She looked down at herself, awed. "It's true. I'm ...here, and real. And- so are you!"

He didn't expect to sleep, could not possibly sleep.

He was too happy.

Yet somehow, towards dawn, reassured by the closeness of her small form, he drifted off.

When he finally woke it was late in the afternoon, and she was gone.

Panic set in; he fumbled awake and out to the kitchen...to find Giles and Willow lingering over coffee. And Buffy, fluffing her long hair to dry it.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" he yelled, grabbing her.

"Taking a shower," she said, wincing and rubbing her arm.

"WHAT?? With Giles?"

"No," Buffy giggled, suddenly comprehending his jealousy. "With Willow. You're the possessive type, aren't you?"

Too late he remembered his resolve to treat her casually until he tested the depth of her feeling for him. It was done though; he couldn't take it back.

"Get used to it, Slayer," he growled. "I don't want you showering with other males! Is that understood?"

Buffy bristled. "You're not the boss of me!"

"Is that understood?" he repeated, menacingly.

She wavered in the ferocious light of his eyes. "Umm..."

"Slayer!"

"Okay, okay!" Buffy capitulated. "Geez, Spike..."

Before she could say another word he jerked her roughly into his arms and kissed her. He kept on kissing her, stroking her hair and holding her.

When he finally let her go, she smiled up at him mistily. "Spike?"

"Yeah, luv?" he asked huskily.

"Giles is about to go shower," she hinted demurely.

Spike studied her suspiciously. "You wait right here," he ordered.

She nodded meekly as he floated out of the room after Giles.

Much to his surprise, she was actually there when he returned.

"Spike! Now I can materialize at will!" She grinned and created a distinctive Buffy silhouette, even as he gazed.

"You try." she urged.

Without any hesitation, he obeyed her.

"I can see you!" she said happily, bouncing with joy.

He was more pleased than he liked to admit.

"Shh, here they come!" she warned, fading to an insubstantial wisp.

He was quick to follow suit.

They trailed Giles and Willow back to the Bronze.

"Maybe we should split up?" Buffy suggested.

"Oh no you don't, pet. You stick to me like glue, understand?"

When she hesitated, "Get it??" emphatically.

"Okay! I will. Look, they're going back down that vent."

Sure enough, Giles and Willow were re-entering the Bronze the same way Giles had made his escape.

"Should we materialize?" Buffy asked anxiously.

"No!" Spike said emphatically. "First, let's find everyone."

Back stage they quickly discovered Xander and Wesley, tied together as if awaiting a summons.

"Are they okay?" Buffy looked at them with concern.

"Yeah." Spike slapped Wesley's face; and the former Watcher regained consciousness with a loud groan.

"Quick! Untie him!" Buffy ordered, loosening the bonds so that Wesley could slip free. Swiftly the former Watcher cut Xander loose.

"Uhhh," Xander was groggy. "Where's Amy? And Cordelia?"

"Why don't we find out?" Wesley said determinedly.

Xander upended a small table and broke the legs off.

"They didn't leave one for me," Buffy complained, as her friends stowed the stakes somewhere on their persons.

Spike snorted. "The last thing we need is a floating stake, luv!"

He caught her hand, pulling her after the two men- out into the frenzy of a vampiric Beltane.

Instantly he felt his senses quicken- the scene was like something out of Dante.

"Spike!" Buffy cried out. "Look- it's Cordelia!"

It was indeed Cordelia; she was naked,dancing sensuously in the center of the stage.

At a front table sat Angel, beside a magnificantly dressed Morgan....and a drugged-looking Amy.

In the background, dozens of vampires and demons were writhing in an orgiastic frenzy; others among them were feeding upon a few luckless humans.

Buffy immediately headed for the main table.

Spike seized her blonde hair and hauled her roughly back.

"Oww!" Buffy yelled, glaring at him.

"Where do you think you're going, pet?" he glared back at her.

"Morgan can't be killed by a ghost," he added, as she seemed disposed to argue. "You help Amy."

She hesitated, then did as he ordered.

"Amy," she whispered in the witch's ear. "Amy! Willow needs you!"

The glazed eyes cleared slightly.

"Willow?" Amy repeated groggily.

Angel laughed harshly. "Don't worry about your lover, girl.

She'll join us soon enough!" Buffy was careful not to look in his direction. "Amy...please! Try, for Willow's sake."

Amy's right hand dropped to her side....fingertips tracing tiny patterns.

Morgan frowned. "There's a chill in the air," she complained.

Spike found himself standing with Xander and Wesley as Xander raised his crossbow.

"Soon as I get a clear shot," Xander said softly.

"Wait! What about Amy?" Wesley protested. "You might hit her."

Xander's lips tightened. "This time- I won't let anything, or anyone, stop me!"

"We'll just see about that," Buffy murmured in Spike's ear.

She floated over to her friend; and the air around them shimmered slightly as her outline slowly took shape.

Xander lowered his crossbow. "Buffy?" His voice was filled with wonder.

And someone else had seen.

Angel was on his feet, staring in awe at the apparition.

"Buffy," he whispered.

"It's a trick!" snarled Morgan. "She's not there...I killed her myself! And I killed the vampire when he sought to avenge her! SHE'S NOT THERE!"

Angel turned his dark eyes on Morgan's beautiful face. "You...killed Buffy," he repeated, thickly.

His huge hands reached for her, fastening relentlessly around her throat.

But Morgan was a Slayer turned. She held her own, locked with Angel in a parody of a lovers' embrace. Gradually she forced him back; and then down.

Xander was still staring at Buffy in bemusement, weapon dangling uselessly.

"Buffy...I couldn't...save you..."

"Dematerialize, pet!" Spike yelled at Buffy. "So he can deal with Morgan."

Buffy started...immediately she began to fade.

"No!" Xander put out his hand to keep her. "Don't leave me again!"

Willow, breathing hard, reached his side. "Xander, there's nothing there!"

With a tremendous heave, Morgan flung Angel halfway across the Bronze.

Then she turned towards Amy.

And Willow screamed.

The sound galvanized Xander; he whipped up the crossbow and fired.

The bolt flew straight and true, embedding itself in Morgan's heart.

"NOOOOOO!" she shrieked- and disintegrated into ash.

Willow rushed over to Angel, clutching a canvas tarp she'd found backstage. She threw it over him, just as Amy's spell took effect and the stage burst into flame.

"Bloody hell!" Spike muttered.

The remaining vampires, who's been milling about uncertainly and staring at the pile of Morgan's ashes, now panicked and began kicking and slashing to get to the exits.

Then- the sprinkler system came on.

"Giles!" Buffy exclaimed admiringly. "It's holy water!"

Spike nearly jumped out of his skin. "It's WHAT?" he shouted.

"It can't hurt you, remember? You're dead!"

"Oh, right." Spike calmed down, feeling a bit sheepish.

"Sometimes I forget, too," Buffy confessed.

Under the tarp, Angel began stirring as the sprinklers all stopped.

Most of the vampires and demons had fled; the few remaining would never threaten anyone again.

Wesley had wrapped another tarp around Cordelia; she was now sitting groggily alongside Angel on the floor.

"What did they do, drug us?" she asked.

Amy grimaced. "It was part of their Beltane ritual. I feel like I could sleep for a year."

Xander still stood, staring at Morgan's ashes.

"I thought I saw her, Giles," he said shakily. "Angel did, too. Looking just as she did when...just as she did twelve years ago."

Giles nodded slowly. "Maybe you both needed to see her, Xander. To remind yourselves what we fight for."

"I needed reminding," Angel said quietly. "When I'm drugged, my demon takes over. But I was able to beat him by focusing on her."

He left with Wesley and Cordelia, while Willow led a wobbly Amy to the car.

Spike waited tensely, wondering what Buffy would do.

To his surprise, she opted to return to the museum.

"Why here, pet?" he asked, concerned.

"Xander lives in the director's apartment on the top floor," she told him.

"I know," Spike nodded. On the first night he'd discovered that Giles had chosen to keep the apartment where he'd lived for so many years, turning the director's rooms over to Xander.

"I just want to check on him," she said enigmatically.

Spike shrugged; he knew he'd go wherever she did.

Xander's apartment was just down the hall from Giles' office. The rooms were spacious and could have been attractive, but they had the impersonal look of a hotel suite.

"How long has he lived here?" Buffy asked suddenly.

"Over eight years," Spike responded, knowing what she was thinking.

Buffy wandered around - remembering the cheerful clutter of Xander's basement back when they were all still together. The starkness of the place depressed her.

Then she heard Xander's footsteps; he walked in, staring at the large picture above the fireplace that was the only personal thing in the living room.

With a start, Buffy recognized that picture. One day shortly before the fatal meeting with Morgan, Riley had driven them all to Venice beach: Xander and his demon girlfriend, Willow and a young wicca with whom she was enamored, and Buffy.

Xander stood watching the beach-front artists sketch the tourists, and finally approached the best of them.

The woman had drawn the three of them in pastels- Xander looking serious for once, Willow with a wide, elfin grin, Buffy with her little half-smile.

It was this picture to which Xander lifted a glass in salute.

"Thank you, Buffy."

Buffy clutched Spike's hand tightly as they made their way to Giles' office with its comfortable couch.

"Do you think Xander will be okay?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah, luv. He's let the poison out by killing Morgan. Now, he can have a life again."

"What about us?" Buffy inquired, settling onto the couch.

"We'll have to be content with our unlife," Spike smirked, eyeing her hungrily.

She sat up abruptly, frowning. "About that, Spike...what did Morgan mean when she said...SPIKE! How. Did. You. Die?"

He'd known it was coming. "Uh, Morgan killed me," he offered weakly.

"I know that! But what were you doing, fighting her?"

"I...um..." his mind was a complete blank. "I just wondered...if I could take her. I mean, YOU couldn't," he said snidely.

She was studying him intently. "So, your challenging her had nothing to do with me?"

"NO!" he practically shrieked. He plunged in, recklessly. "You really think I'd challenge a Slayer-vampire to avenge you, Summers? When you've tried to kill me more than once? I'd have to be sodding crazy! Crazy, or some lovesick fool..."

Horrified, Spike heard the damning words come out of his mouth. He hadn't just said that, had he?

Her huge sea-blue eyes widened in surprise.

He had.

Spike groaned aloud, and turned his back, wishing for a stake to end his misery. Then he remembered that a stake wouldn't help him anymore.

"Spike?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Stubbornly he refused to turn around. He'd just managed to ruin his life...right, his death...and he'd be damned if he'd give her the satisfaction of gloating over his humiliation.

"Spike!" An edge in the soft voice. "Look at me!"

Defiantly, he swung around to face her; and found, to his amazement, that she didn't look angry. Or disgusted. Or upset.

Instead her pretty face was glowing, almost as if...

"Buffy?" He took a single step towards her.

SHE HELD OUT HER ARMS TO HIM.

With a loud whoop, Spike hurtled forward and landed- hard- right on top of the Slayer.

"Ooof!" she said good-naturedly. "I knew it was a mistake to materialize so soon."

Frantically he pawed at her. "I hurt you, didn't I? Oh pet, I'm so sorr..."

Her kiss cut off the rest of his apology.

Spike's mind reeled...she was KISSING him now?

She was; and so enthusiastically that for several long minutes he could think of nothing else.

Finally, she broke the kiss? "Spike? What's the matter?"

He shook his head, bemused. "You know something, pet? It's a lot better to be a ghost than a vampire!"

"Is it?" she giggled.

"Oh yeah," Spike said eagerly, " I really LIKE being a ghost!"

She kissed him again. "Then maybe you should dematerialize," she suggested wickedly, "since you like it so much."

"Oh no you don't!" He grabbed her, relieved when she stayed reassuringly solid in his arms.

She twined her arms around his neck. "being real has its advantages."

Spike said nothing, being fully occupied with exploring just how real they were.

Later- a long time later- when they were tired but far too happy to sleep, he said "Know something, luv?"

"What, Spike?" she inquired, snuggling closer to rest her small blonde head against his shoulder.

He kissed the top of that head. "Just...when we were in limbo, it was like a big soddin' moor. Not what I thought it would be, at all."

"Mmm," she assented sleepily, "I know."

Spike looked down at the girl in his arms, stroking her long hair possessively.

"Yeah, pet," he smiled. "But what you don't know, what I was wondering...Limbo doesn't look the way I thought it would. And... neither does heaven."

He paused just long enough to kiss her again.

"In fact, heaven looks a lot like....the Sunnydale Museum of Natural History!"