Yes, ladies and gentlemen, TQ has gone mad with "Crush" fever! This is the third response to "Crush" that I've written since Tuesday, and my wrists are about ready to fall off! I've become an unstoppable ficcing force! But luckily, I think I've finally exhausted my creativities on the subject. To quote our boy after he killed the teacher in "school Hard," "I feel better!"

Title: Black and White 1/2

Author: Theory Queen

Spoilers and Summary: Picks up at the end of "Crush"; Buffy gets her worldview pried open by an "Angel" crossover. (You know, I positively love that green-skinned host of Caritas!)

Distribution: TQ's Fanfiction Place, if I ever get it updated; otherwise, ask first please.

Disclaimer: They all belong to Joss. His universe is my playground!

Black and White

Spike watched the door close on Buffy's icy eyes, then, after a long moment, walked away. He headed back to his crypt and threw some things together, tossed them into his car. He pulled out and headed toward the highway, trying to pretend his heart wasn't broken. Again.

As he neared the on-ramp, he saw a slight figure standing under a streetlight, thumb out to hitch a lift. He looked closer. "Bloody hell," he muttered as he pulled over. He leaned across and opened the door. "Niblet, what the hell are you doing?"

"Spike? Oh, thank God it's you. I'm running away." Dawn got into the car. "Where are you going?"

"L.A."

"Really? Me too! Want to give me a lift?"

Spike sighed. "Shut the door, then." He pulled out again, and as he got onto the highway heading north, he asked her why she was running away this time.

"I want to go see my dad. He lives in L.A." she said. She fingered the fringe on her bag and then clarified, "I need to know if he even knows who I am." Spike nodded. It was valid reasoning. "And I'm really pissed at my sister," she said.

Spike's mouth quirked. "Makes two of us," he said.

Dawn said quietly, "I know." He looked over sharply, and she defended herself. "I'm sorry; I know it's none of my business, but I overheard her telling Mom and Willow what happened tonight between you and her. And I just got so mad at her I had to get out of there. She had no reason to treat you like that!"

"Well." Spike said. He was somewhat surprised to have such a loyal, if pint-sized, defendant.

"And if it was up to me, you'd be welcome in our house anytime."

Spike grinned. He couldn't help himself. Invited back in so soon! "Thanks, Bite-size." He looked over and tossed Dawn a wink, and she smiled, pleased with herself. Spike turned on the radio and nothing more was said until they neared the long series of L.A. exits. Spike turned the music down. "Right then, where am I dropping you?"

Dawn gave him the address and thanked him for the ride. She scribbled down her father's telephone number and handed it to him, "just in case." In case of what, she didn't make clear, but Spike nodded gravely and put it carefully in his pocket.

Dawn got out of the car and waved to him, then headed up the ramp to the entrance of her father's apartment building.

She didn't see the three tough-looking teenagers that saw her and started to follow her in.

Spike did. He had already put the car in gear and was preparing to pull away when he saw one of them grab Dawn. He hesitated a long moment, then swore and turned the key off. Getting out, he called to the boy, a tattooed specimen with long, greasy hair. "Hey, I wouldn't if I were you. Don't you think she's a bit young?"

Greasy-hair let Dawn go, and she cast one frightened look back at Spike and took off running towards the building. Her captor started swaggering toward Spike. "Well, well, well. What have we here?"

"Looks like a fairy," said one of Greasy's pals. He was wearing a t-shirt with a bow-tie at the neck.

"Yeah, well, at least I look normal," Spike shot back. He grinned and shifted into his "game face," and continued, "For a vampire, anyway." He expected the kids to run away in fear, but they only smiled.

The third member of the group was small and slight, with mouse-brown hair and a pale complexion. "No, actually, you don't," he said. "Most of the vampires around here look a lot tougher than you!"

"Let's teach him a thing or two!" Greasy suggested, and they pounced. Mousey and Bow-tie held Spike's arms while Greasy punched him in the face a few times. Spike tried to resist, but the pain kicked in and he bellowed. He couldn't get away, either; the other two held him so tightly he couldn't budge without hurting them - and himself. They finally shoved him to the ground and Bow-tie got a good wind-up and kicked him in the face... and everything turned a very dark shade of red.

"...okay?" He heard someone ask. He tried to speak, but only managed a weak grunt. The light, gentle voice went on. "I'll help you. I have a place you can stay for as long as you need to. You got beat up pretty bad, but it doesn't look that serious. Bloody, but no actual damage."

Spike blinked open his eyes slowly. He couldn't see the girl; she was silhouetted in the light of a streetlamp. She was fair-haired, that was all he could see. It looked like she was wearing a halo. Oh, wait, she was still speaking. "...take you there? You can come back for your car in the morning." Spike managed a nod, and somehow managed to get to his feet and stagger to her car.

The building was dim, but he sensed there were a lot of people inside. He looked a question at the blonde woman behind the wheel. "It's not a shelter," she said. "It's a place for runaways, and well, other people who have nowhere else to go. My name's Anne; I run it."

Spike thought fleetingly of Dawn, wondering if she'd been able to work anything out with her father. If not, she could come here too, he decided drowsily. Neither of them had anywhere else to go. He made it as far as the cot in Anne's office and collapsed.

"Morning!" Anne's light, cheery voice woke him up. He felt like he'd only slept five minutes, but the sun was streaming in the windows... the sun. He opened his eyes in alarm, only to see

A cross?!

"Wha-" he exclaimed, scrambling back away from the cross and the sunlight.

"Good morning. Spike, isn't it?" Anne said. "Didn't recognize you last night, all bloody and all, but I do now." Her firm grip on the cross never twitched.

" 'Ave we met?" Spike asked, puzzled. She looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. Certainly not from his last trip to L.A.

"Well, not formally. But you did have your fangs in my neck one time," She explained, still in that cheerful tone. "I was a member of a sort of cult at the time, that worshipped vampires, and there was a fight and you and your friends were -"

"Locked in the bomb shelter," Spike said, disgusted at the memory. "I remember now. You were the first one up the stairs." He shook his head. "Are you planning to kill me, then?"

Anne shook her head. "I don't think so, but you have to explain a few things to me."

They spent most of the morning with Spike telling his story about the chip, about Drusilla - because Anne remembered her too - and about what he was doing in L.A. now.

"Drusilla's in Los Angeles?" Anne said wonderingly. Then, "You want to see Angel?"

"Dru's teamed up with our other old crony," Spike spat the word bitterly, "Darla. And the two of them are out to drive Angel off the deep end - make him evil again. And if he goes evil again, he goes after the slayer again. So I'm here to help him stay good. Mind if I smoke?"

Anne gave a surprised laugh, and waved permission. Spike lit up. Anne laughed again. "You mean Buffy, the slayer, right?" The name gave him pain. He nodded tightly. "And this would be because..." she trailed off, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

"I'm in love with the slayer," he told her. Hell, why not? It was bound to become public knowledge soon anyway.

Anne smiled again. "Let me get this straight: Drusilla left you. You went back to Sunnydale and got an anti-killing chip put into your head. You fell in love with Buffy, and now you want to help Angel stay good so he doesn't go down there and kill her. Mind telling me just why you don't stay down there with the woman you love, and defend her there?"

Spike hung his head and ground out his cigarette. He got to his feet and started pacing. He didn't want to tell her, a complete stranger, but suddenly his throat was all crowded with words and he felt like he had to tell her or burst. He choked on parts of the story, almost breaking down, but swallowed the lump in his throat and went on to the end. "She said she wanted me out of town and out of her life. So I came up here to see if I could do her some good without annoying her with my bothersome presence. So do you know where I can find Angel or not?" he asked abruptly.

Anne nodded slowly. "Hyperion Hotel," she said slowly. "He should be alone; he fired all his help. I talked with Cordelia a week or so ago; I had a problem for them to solve. Something about some local cops beating on my kids, but they already had a case of someone getting bitten by a demon and growing a third eye on the back of her head."

"Oh, a stash demon. I know them. They like to see what's going on. She just has to bathe in the ocean at midnight, cut herself, and do a little chant to get rid of it. Well, and skewer the extra eyeball. So Angel's flying solo these days, is he? I'll have to swing by there and see if he's willing to have a chat." Spike leaped to his feet and started on his way, then stopped.

Anne pointed to the window. "Um, daylight?" Spike sat down again sheepishly. Anne smiled. "Not to worry. There's a sewer entrance right out the back. You can get out that way."

Spike leapt to his feet again and followed her pointing finger. Then he stopped and stuck his head back in the door. "Uh, Anne?" He sounded tentative. "Listen, thanks for taking care of me last night. And, um, I'm sorry I bit you that time." Then he was gone.

Finding his way via sewer to where he had left his car proved something of a challenge, but he finally managed to recognize the smell of the neighborhood. Aha! He lifted the manhole cover, shielding himself from the sun with it. Bingo. There was his car, not fifteen feet in front of him. It was noon, though, and the sun was directly overhead. Damn. He waited. And waited. Had the sun ever moved that slowly before? He waited; lifting the cover every little while to make sure his car was still there. He saw no sign of the gang that had beaten him up the night before. He wondered how Dawn had fared.

Oh, hell, he'd waited long enough. He carefully pulled the sleeves of his shirt down over his hands so they wouldn't burn, and made a run for it.

His car was locked. "Aaaargh!" he screamed in panic and pain. He skipped around the car, trying all the doors. His hair was smoking by the time a slender white hand reached over and pulled the button up so he could throw himself into the dark shelter of the vehicle.

"Sorry, Spike. I was asleep," Dawn said in a very small voice.

Spike sat still in the back seat, panting, and trying desperately to keep his temper under control. He knew if he gave in to his rage, the pain of the chip might well kill him. When he was slightly calmer, he turned to Dawn. "And can I ask just WHY THE HELL were you sleeping in my car?" He yelled.

"Dad didn't recognize me," she confessed. "I went in to get him to help you against those boys, but he didn't even know me. And when I came back out again, you were gone and so were they. So I decided to wait in here. I just locked it in case they came back."

Spike sighed. It did make sense, he had to admit. And he was oddly flattered that she'd gone running for someone to help him, rather than just running away as he'd thought. "All right, kitten," he said. "I'll take you to Anne's, and then be on my way to see Angel." He dropped her off with a promise to be in touch later than night, and drove off toward the old hotel.

"Dawn! Dawn!" Buffy called. She knocked on Dawn's door and opened it when she got no answer. "Dawn?" She noticed in passing that the bed hadn't been slept in, but her eyes were drawn to the note on the bed. "Mom!" she called in a panic, running out of the room with the note. "Mom! Dawn's gone again, and I found this on her bed. It hadn't been slept in!"

Joyce gasped. "Oh, no, not again!" She took the note and read it aloud:

"I've gone to see Dad. Maybe he can help me make some sense out of all this. If he even knows who I am. Don't worry about me. Glory shouldn't be able to find me in L.A. -- Dawn. P.S. Buffy, you were way too mean to Spike!"

"Oh, Buffy, no!" Joyce sat down, her heart fluttering.

"I'm going to L.A." Buffy decided. "Giles or Willow can stay here with you in case Glory comes back." Or you have a relapse, she added silently. "I'll call Giles and give him the heads-up, and I can be on the two o'clock bus." She put her arms around her mother. "It'll be okay, mom. I'll find her and bring her home. She'll be fine."

Joyce nodded shakily as she took deep cleansing breaths. Buffy reached for the phone.

Angel wasn't at the Hyperion. He wasn't at any of the dozen demon bars or vampire hangouts that Spike knew about, either. He was just about to give up when he drove by a seedy looking, run-down building with a sign outside that caught his attention: Angel Investigations. He screeched to a halt outside the shaded building and ran in the door. As his eyes readjusted to the dimness, he stared at what he was seeing.

A bald young black man was pulling a ruffled blouse over his head. "Oh, I don't know if it goes with my shoes," he said in a shrill falsetto. "But then again, my shoes don't always go with each other, either!"

His audience of one, a black-haired young guy in glasses, laughed appreciatively. "She'd kill you if she heard you, Gunn. You know that, don't you? That giant fire-breathing demon in the sewer would be nothing to her if she caught you!"

Gunn laughed, then caught sight of Spike standing just inside the shaded doorway. "Uh, Wes? We got company."

Spike raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "Sorry, mate. I think I must 'ave the wrong place!"

Gunn grinned. "Oh, this?" he took off the blouse. "We were just making fun of our coworker, that's all. What do you need?"

Wes rose and approached Spike. "Yes, is there anything we can help you with? We specialize in paranormal rescue and... and... situations."

Spike's mouth quirked. He recognized the man's accent, and instantly knew whereabouts in London this Wes was from. "Yeah, well, I have a situation. Missing person. Missing vampire, if you want to get technical. I'm looking for Angel."

"Well you're not going to find him here," Cordelia said, sweeping into the room. She snatched her blouse out of Gunn's hand. "Angel's working on his own now..." she looked up to see who their visitor was, and squealed, "Spike?!" She made a dive for one of her desk drawers and came up holding a cross in one hand and a stake in the other. "What are you doing here? What do you want with Angel?" She demanded.

"Love the hair, Cordelia." Spike kept his voice even. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt him this time. I just want to find him and keep him from doing something stupid."

"It's too late for that," Gunn said. "Angel's been doing stupid things for weeks. So you're a vampire, huh?"

"Spike," Wesley said the name thoughtfully. "Not William the Bloody, surely?"

Spike nodded, puzzled. "So how do you know me? Are you a Watcher?"

"Um, not exactly. At least, not anymore," Wesley equivocated.

"They sacked him," Cordelia said matter-of-factly. "Then Angel sacked all three of us, so we're working by ourselves now, and Angel can carry out his wiggy plan of vengeance all by his lonesome."

Spike came cautiously into the room, keeping his distance from them. "Do you lot know about Darla and Dru?" At their nod, he continued, "Did you know their plan is to make him crazy enough to turn evil again? Yeah. Dru came and visited me last night. Invited me to come back and join the party, even. Not really my scene anymore, though, so I decided to find Angel and make sure he stays on the white-hats' team."

Wesley frowned. "Spike, if you don't mind my asking, why isn't it your 'scene'?"

Drawing in a deep, sustaining breath, and wondering how many times he was going to have to explain this to people, Spike told them about the chip, and about how he had been killing demons with the Sunnydale crew for money. He said nothing about his feelings for the slayer.

"Huh." Suddenly, Gunn leaped at him, smashing a fist into his face and knocking him over. Spike roared and went vamp-faced, crouching to attack Gunn - and then yelled in pain and clutched his head.

He got himself under control again, then glared daggers at Gunn. "Now, that wasn't nice!" he growled.

Gunn was actually ashamed. "Hey, I'm sorry, man. I just didn't believe you before. I don't usually hit people what can't defend themselves!"

"Right, then," Spike said, still glaring at Gunn. "Where can I find Angel?"

Buffy knocked on her father's door and waited. A woman in a bathrobe opened it, cautiously. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"I-I'm here looking for my dad. Hank Summers," Buffy said.

"Oh, no, not another one! Now look here, you leave before we call the police!" the woman yelled at her.

"Wha- Isn't this where he lives?" Buffy asked, bewildered. She looked closer at the woman. "Weren't you his secretary?" she accused. Then, realizing, "Did my little sister come here earlier?"

"I don't know who that girl was, or who you are, or how you know that I was Hank's secretary. I just want you out of here, or I will call the police!" and she slammed the door in Buffy's face.

Guess that's that, Buffy thought as she went on back down the stairs. She fished in her purse for her cell-phone and dialed the Agency's number. The operator came on and informed her the number had been changed, and then, wonder of wonders, told her what the new one was.

She dialed. A man picked up the telephone. "Gunn's Investigations?" he said. There was the sound of a scuffle, then Cordelia's recognizable voice came on. "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless?"

"Cordy, it's Buffy. I need help. Can I talk to Angel?"

"You could if he were here, but unfortunately for you, Angel hasn't seen fit to drop by at all in the last several weeks!" Cordelia's voice held more than a little resentment.

"Please, where can I find him? I need his help; my little sister's lost up here and I don't know where to look."

"Buffy, what are you trying to pull? You don't even have a sister." Buffy waited. Cordelia sighed. "All right, fine, you might be able to find him at the old Hyperion Hotel; that is, if he's not out killing all the lawyers."

"Oh...kay, thanks," Buffy said, and hung up. Killing lawyers? She shook her head, bemused, and waved down a taxi. "Hyperion Hotel," she told the driver.

It was deserted when she got there. The door was unlocked, though, so she went in. Walking around, she recognized a little of Angel's touches here and there. She smiled appreciatively at the battle axes hanging crossed on the wall, looking incongruous in this once-luxurious hotel. May as well check the place out while I wait for Angel, she decided. She explored most of the upstairs, finding which bedroom Angel slept in. She closed that door quickly and went on. Below, she found what used to be the workspace; there were scattered papers on the floor that Angel had never bothered to pick up, and empty desk drawers hanging open. Mystified, she picked up a few of the papers... then dropped them again as if she'd been burned. Darla. Naked. Pictures of Darla naked, and drawn in the style she remembered so well from Angel stalking her. What was he doing, drawing naked pictures of Darla? She heard a car pull up outside and she ran up the stairs, not wanting him to see her until she'd got herself composed again. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he must hear it, and she tried to calm herself. Angel strode in angrily, and Buffy was about to say his name when she saw who was with him.

Oh, God. Spike. What was Spike doing in L.A? She sank down on the top step, just out of their sight, and listened.

Spike stayed at the Agency most of the day listening to Angel's ex-employees fill him in on what had been happening. He was surprised they seemed to trust him so easily; then again from the sounds of it, he wasn't the first demon to be on their side. When the sun went down, he left. A few minutes later, Spike pulled up behind a long, shiny black convertible. He nodded grimly; that looked about right to be Angel's car. He glanced across the street at the large brick building and shrugged. No accounting for taste! He got out and sauntered over to the front door.

Security guards caught him before he'd gone fifteen feet into the lobby, and held him at stake- point. "State your business," said one.

"I'm here to see Lindsey McDonald," he announced. "Or his pretty partner."

"Do you have an appointment?" Spike shook his head. "What name should I give?" the guard asked, holding up his walkie-talkie.

"Spike," the vampire stated. "Tell him Drusilla knows me." The guard complied, and less than two minutes later, Spike was ushered upstairs to Lindsey's giant corner office and seated at a table across from the pair of young lawyers.

"So you're Drusilla's old friend," Lilah commented after the introductions had been made. "Tell me, Spike, what brings you to L.A."

"Invitation," Spike said. "Dru told me about the party that she and Darla are throwing for Angel and invited me to come along." He winked at the pretty woman and said, "I can never resist a party, doll."

"So what brings you to Wolfram and Hart?" asked the young man. Spike explained that he hadn't been able to find Angel, Darla, or Dru since he'd arrived the night before. Lindsey was silent for a moment, then invited, "Why don't you tell us why you want to find Angel? Because I'll be honest with you, Spike; he's not a popular vampire around here." Spike cocked his head curiously.

Lindsey went to the window, looking out over the nightscape of the city as he explained. "He locked Darla and Drusilla in a wine cellar with the entire Special Projects Division. Or Division Head begged him for help, but he said he didn't care, and locked the door behind him when he left. Your friends left me and Lilah alive to be liaisons between them and Wolfram and Hart; they killed everyone else."

"Damn!" Spike sounded impressed. "That sounds more like Angelus than 'angelic.'"

"Wolfram and Hart has a keen interest in Angel," Lilah explained. "He is destined to be a key player in the coming apocalypse; what isn't clear is which side he's going to be on. We're interested in whatever might help him decide to work with us rather than against us. If you think you can assist your lady friends in making up his mind -" she smiled sweetly at Spike " - we'd be happy to tell you where to find Angel." He nodded curtly.

Lilah and Lindsey exchanged glances. "He's in the basement," Lindsey said shortly. "We caught him trying to sneak into the parking garage again, so we placed him in a safe place until we can figure out what to do with him. One of the guards will take you to him." He stood up and left the room with Lilah, stopping to tell the guard at the door, "Take our guest down to the holding cell; he wants to visit a friend." The guard mumbled a question and Lindsey said, "No, no! Of course not! Spike is free to leave whenever he wants to." Then they were gone.

The corridor leading down to the holding cell was ill lit and lightly scattered with debris. Spike tripped over something, and the guard steadied him. "Careful, now. I thought you vampires could see pretty good in the dark?"

"Not all of us," mumbled Spike. The arrived at the cell and Spike looked in and grinned. "Allo, Angel," he greeted.

Angel, lying in the corner with his eyes shielded by his forearm, jumped to his feet. "Spike," he hissed malevolently. "What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too, precious," Spike taunted. He asked the guard, "So are you going to let me in so we can talk? Or shall we just exchange pleasantries here in the hallway?"

The security guard fumbled through his keys. "Uh, I don't have the right set with me, I'm afraid. Listen, uh, 'Spike,' you just stay here and I'll be right back. You can visit through the bars until then." He headed back up the hallway.

Angel growled. Spike laughed in his face, then produced the keys from his coat pocket where he'd stashed when he bumped into the guard. He unlocked the barred door. It swung wide and Angel stepped out warily. Spike told him, "Oh, relax, Peaches. Just show me the quickest way out of here." Angel frowned, but started jogging back up the corridor. A tunnel veered off to the left and Angel took it, Spike closely at his heels. It came out in the parking garage, the first floor of which contained an opening to the sewers. Together they lifted the grate and slid down, Spike carefully fitting the grate back over their heads.

"My car's out front," Angel panted as they raced through the tunnel.

"I know. I parked behind you," Spike said. Angel shot him a dark glance, but made no response. Spike couldn't resist the urge to pick on him a little. "Honestly, Angel, a convertible? In Los Angeles? You must have a death wish just like someone else I know!"

Angel growled, then started climbing the ladder that led up to the street. Halfway up, he stopped; Spike was just below him. "Spike, why are you here?" he demanded. "Why did you let me out, and what do you want from me?"

The irony of that last question preoccupied the younger vampire for a moment; seems he'd been asked that a hell of a lot lately! He shook it off and answered, "Listen, why don't we talk about it after we get the hell out of their hands! Believe it or not, I'm not actually here to cause mischief this time. Now can we get a move on?"

Angel grunted suspiciously, but kept on climbing. "Follow me to the hotel."

The two black cars pulled up outside the hotel at the same time. Angel got out and stalked into the building without looking at Spike close behind him. Suddenly, he rounded on him. "Now can I have some answers before I beat them out of you?"

"You'd have fun trying!" Spike sneered.

Angel gave him a dark half-smile. "You're right. I would. Now talk! And make it quick."

"Fine," Spike said, sitting down on the front steps and stretching out his legs. "Let's see... Chip in my head. Can't kill. Dru and Darla planning to drive you 'round the bend, make you go all evil again. I came to help. You, that is. There now, that quick enough for you?"

"Sure. Why?" Angel wondered.

Spike got up and began pacing. "Well, not to be rude or anything, Angel, - and mind you, I'm not too keen on you the way you are - but you're a royal prick when you're evil."

Angel was so bewildered he was almost amused. "So you came all the way up here from Sunnydale to keep me from being a prick?"

Spike meandered back toward the door. "I know, I know. Too late. But maybe I can help you before you get any worse and lose your soul or summat." He grinned.

In an instant, Angel had him backed against the wall with his forearm pressed against Spike's throat. Spike tried to cough, but couldn't get enough air. "Now listen, William" Angel growled. "The only thing I need help with is taking down every single lawyer Wolfram and Hart has employed. Darla and Dru are secondary. The state of my soul," he let out a harsh bark of laughter, "is the least of my concerns at the moment. At this point nothing would make me happier than a law firm bloodbath!" Angel let up on Spike's windpipe and patted his cheek - a little too hard.

Spike massaged his throat. "Thought only Buffy could give you a happy like that," he said innocently.

Angel leaned closer to Spike, and took out Spike's pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He drew one out and lit it, then carefully replaced the pack in Spike's pocket. "Buffy has nothing to do with it. Nothing to do with me. I've got more important things on my mind than schoolgirls. If you want to help me kill lawyers, I'd be grateful. If not, then get out. Now," he blew smoke in Spike's face. "Get out before I set you on fire too."

Spike shrugged and went out. Angel stomped around muttering for a few minutes while he finished Spike's cigarette. Then he grabbed his coat and left again.

Buffy sat on the top step, stunned. Her thoughts went spinning in spirals, with snippets visiting her conscious mind briefly, then spinning away. She could hear her own voice the other night; "Angel has a soul," and "Angel was good." She shied away from the memory of Spike's protest, "I can be, too." All thoughts of finding Dawn had disappeared from her conscious mind, and she did not move for a long while. "Buffy... has nothing to do with me."... "bloodbath...more important than schoolgirls"... "help me kill lawyers"...

She couldn't stop a few tears from sliding down her face. She stood up to leave, when suddenly Spike came marching purposely back in. She sat back down and watched silently. He made his way to the telephone, but got distracted by the sight of Angel's drawings on the floor. He picked one up. "Bloody ponce," he scoffed. He went to the telephone, muttering as he dialed, "Always playing stalker, obsessing over one little blonde or another. 'Kill the lawyers,' my ass! Idiot!" He paused to listen to it ring on the other end. "Cordy. What's the address of that bar you lot told me about? 11250 Elm. Right. Got it. Yeah, I got another call to make, then I'm heading out there. Right, then." He wrote down the address on the back of Darla's portrait, then hung up. He dug a slip of paper out of his coat pocket, and dialed the number scribbled on it.

"Anne? I wake you? Sorry. Listen, is Dawn there? Well, wake her up."

Buffy froze. Spike knew where Dawn was? She began to plot his horrible, painful death as she listened. Dawn evidently came on the telephone, for she heard, "Hey, squirt. I got a stop to make and then I'm heading back to Sunnyhell. If you want a ride back, have Anne drive you to 11250 Elm Street. It's a bar, but I heard they let all kinds in. What? No, you little moron. I've got business there. Right, see you then." He hung up the phone and sauntered out.

Buffy dug out her cell phone again and called another cab. When it arrived, she jumped in. "11250 Elm," she said. "Fast."

She didn't anticipate the traffic jam.

Spike arrived at Caritas before any of the others did. He recognized the host from Wesley's description, and collared him, shoving him into a chair. He sat down on the other side of the small round table. "Name's Spike," he introduced himself. "I already know who you are; you're going to help me with a few little problems."

"Of course I will if I can," said the host politely. "But you'll have to sing first." He gestured toward the stage.

Spike shook his head. "I don't have time for that. Here, listen." Quietly he sang a few bars of an old Jethro Tull song he'd always liked. "There, that do you?" He asked.

The host looked staggered. When he found his voice, which didn't take long, he shook his head slowly from side to side. "Oh, my, Spike, you really do have a passel of problems, don't you?"

"Can you help me or not?" Spike demanded.

"Maybe. What do you need to know?"

"If he goes bad again, can I protect the slayer? That's what I need to know. What I want to know is, do I ever have a chance with her?" Spike's voice was strained.

The host looked sorrowfully at him. "I'm sorry I can't answer that last question; it depends on things beyond your control. But if you don't end up having a chance with her, you won't be able to protect her. She's already turned you out once. The only other way to protect her from Angel, would be to go through her Watcher. Be honest; he's a trustworthy fellow."

Spike's shoulders slumped. "Right, then. Guess that's that."

The host reached over and patted him heartily on the back. "Oh, cheer up, Spike! You'll get your answer tonight, one way or the other! Besides, you're destined for great things! All you need is a chance to prove yourself. Oh, here are your pals." He indicated the entrance, where Cordelia and Wesley were standing, looking for him. The host waved them over. "Oh, looks like you guys are going to need a bigger table!"

"No, really, this should be fine," Wesley said, as a couple of waiters pushed two sizeable tables together.

The host smiled disarmingly. "No, trust me. There are more on their way." He smiled toward the entrance, where Anne and Dawn looked nervously around at all the demons. He beckoned to them. Anne saw them and smiled in relief as she and Dawn joined them.

"Wow, this is weird," she exclaimed, eyeing the clientele.

Dawn stared around with wide eyes as they were seated. "Spike, what is this place?"

Cordelia answered for him. "Demon karaoke bar. See the green guy? You sing karaoke and he reads your soul, your future - all that stuff. By the way, who are you? Aren't you a little young for the bar scene?"

"She's with me," Spike and Anne both spoke up simultaneously.

"I'm Dawn Summers," Dawn said. "Buffy's sister."

"Buffy doesn't have a sister," Cordy said.

"Long story," Spike explained. "She does now."

"Oh! Well I wish I'd known that when she called earlier!" Cordelia said.

Spike choked on his beer. "She called you? Where is she?"

Dawn slipped away from the table and was gone before they noticed. She approached the green- skinned demon host. "Uh, excuse me?"

He turned. "What can I do for you, miss?" he asked politely.

"They said if I sang karaoke, you could tell me my future. I'd like to do that, please."

The host smiled at the endearing young girl and gestured toward the stage. "Of course, my dear. Make your selection, then come tell me and I'll announce you," he said.

Meanwhile, Cordelia explained about Buffy's telephone call. "Oh, she's in L.A. I think. She was looking for Angel to help her find her little sister. I didn't know what she was talking about, but I sent her over to that dingy old hotel anyway."

Spike started to get nervous. Was Buffy there when he and Angel had their chat? He sincerely hoped not; he really didn't want to be the one to puncture ALL her illusions!

"Where's Dawn?" Anne asked suddenly. They looked around frantically, then the host got up to speak. "Oh, there she is. Wonder what she'll sing?"

The host introduced Dawn and she stepped up to the microphone, white and shaking. She tipped the microphone down to her level and everyone winced at the loud, shrill feedback. She spoke, and even amplified, her voice barely audible.

"Th-this song is for, um, my sister. And a f-friend of mine who, um, loves her." The music started, an upbeat, older bubble-gum pop tune. As she started to sing, a dull red flush crept up Spike's neck. If anyone hadn't known his feelings for Buffy beforehand, they were sure going to find out now! He winced at some of the lyrics: "Every heartbeat bears your name/ Loud and clear they 'stake' my claim/ My red blood runs true blue..."

Buffy stormed into Caritas, and stopped short. Oh. My. God. Demons everywhere she looked! An especially well-dressed green demon with red horns stood by the stage, smiling and tapping his feet to the rhythm of...

Dawn? Singing?! Her eye was caught by a sudden movement in the audience, and she groaned. She'd know Spike's trademark bleach job anywhere. Oh, he was so dead! She stomped over to him and grabbed him by the back of the shirt, lifting him up out of the chair and half-choking him. "Hi, Spike. Want to tell me what you're doing here with my little sister?"

"Ah, Buffy! So good of you to join us," Wesley said smoothly. "Would you like a drink?"

"Wesley?"

"God, Buffy, put him down already. You're blocking my view," Cordelia complained. Startled, Buffy dropped Spike back into his chair, where he promptly turned his back on her and finished off his drink. He hunched his shoulders defensively.

Only then did Buffy take note of the words Dawn was singing: "Classic case of boy meets girl/ Moving in the same direction/ you're not asking for the world/ I'm not asking for perfection/ Just a love that's well-designed/ for passing the test of time..."

"Oh, God!" Buffy appealed to the ceiling as she sank down into a chair. She glared at Spike. "Did you put her up to this?"

He snarled, "Yeah, right, like I knew you'd be here! Slayer, when are you going to learn that not everything that goes wrong in your life is my bleeding fault!" His voice rose to a yell towards the end, and he sat there and seethed.

Anne broke the awkward silence. Awkwardly. "Um, nice to see you again, Buffy."

Buffy blinked a moment, then recognized the girl. "Lily? What are you doing here?"

"Uh, it's 'Anne' now. Remember? I run a runaway shelter on the other side of town. Spike brought Dawn to me this morning after her father threw her out. And I've heard of this place, but never dared to check it out before."

"Anne. Right." Buffy had had it. Things were just too damned weird. "I don't believe this. Here we have a bar full of demons - every one of which is making my skin crawl - And who do I find here? A vampire, no surprise, but a Watcher? And you, Cordy? And 'Anne,' you who bears my name, you and I went to hell together for heaven's sake. What, did you miss it all that much?"

"Buffy, lighten up, will you?" Cordelia said. "Not all demons are bad. Heck, Doyle would have loved this place."

"Doyle? That Irish guy I met last time? You mean he was a demon?"

Cordelia nodded positively. "Oh, yeah! He was a demon, all right. And the best friend I ever had. He's dead now, though, but he died saving my life, and Angel's."

"And there are a lot worse things in this town than demons and vampires," Anne said. "You shouldn't be so judgmental, Buffy."

"And don't forget that Prio Moto demon that Angel killed by accident. He was fighting on the side of good." Wesley put in.

"Yeah, and what about Oz being a werewolf?" Cordelia reminded her. "And didn't I hear that Xander's dating Anyanka now?"

Buffy scowled and sank into a chair, feeling betrayed. She didn't say anything, but listened to Dawn finish her song.

"Every heartbeat bears your name/ Loud and clear they 'stake' my claim/ My red blood runs true blue/ Every heartbeat belongs to you!" Dawn finished singing and smiled shyly at the thin applause the demons gave her. She made her way back to the big table, then stood stopped dead at the sight of her sister's cold eyes drilling holes in her. Buffy clapped, rhythmically, mockingly.

"Very nice, Dawn. What a great selection. Amy Grant was bad enough, but that song? I never even liked it when it was popular!"

Dawn's chin went up. "Why? Strike too close to home?"

"I'll tell you who's going to be close to home, sis, and that's you! Till you're 80!" Buffy was livid. "Honestly!" She mimicked Dawn's singing. "'Loud and clear they stake my claim! My red blood runs true blue!'" As she spoke, the host stopped in the middle of introducing the next singer. When Buffy sang, he stared at her and left the stage without even finishing his sentence. Buffy continued, "Geez, Dawn, why didn't you just hold out your neck to everyone here and put on a 'Please bite here' sign?"

"Oh, don't be so hard on her, Buffy," the host interrupted. "She was only doing it for you." He put his hand on Dawn's shoulder and addressed her. "That was really pretty, Dawn."

Dawn asked him hopefully. "Can you tell me anything?" She caught Buffy's look and explained, "He tells your future if you sing karaoke."

"Well, all I can tell you is that your sister holds the, ahem, "key" to your future. It's tough when a hell-goddess wants to use you to open a demon dimension, but the situation's not impossible. But it's really up to Buffy." The host turned to Buffy and said, "Now, then. Vampire slayer with a whole helluva lot of emotional baggage. Usually the slayers don't carry much; they keep their personal interactions to a minimum. But you're different; you like to live in the world, have friends, the whole works. But that kind of stuff leads to being hurt, and being hurt makes it awfully hard to open up. All that baggage... Buffy, it'll be your undoing - and your sister's - if you don't lose it soon.

"You'll have to realize that not everything is so black and white. You'll need to recognize grey areas - and that sometimes they're grey because it's a transition from black to white! You're not going to be able to fight this hell-goddess on your own, you know. You'll need some help from someone stuck in one of the 'grey areas.' Someone who'll do anything to prove himself to you. And what do you know? I happen to know of someone who fits that description!" He smiled cheerily at Spike, who dropped his eyes.

Buffy was utterly creeped out. How did this demon know everything about her?

"Oh, you sang, just now. When you sing, you bare your soul, and then I can read it," explained the host, catching the thought in her head.

He caught the next one, too, and shook his head firmly. "No violence in Caritas, Buffy. House rules."

Buffy sighed and gave up. "All right. What do I do? Open up my mind, or Glory's going to open up a demon dimension using my little sister?"

"Well, that's essentially it. You've been stagnating in your little black and white world, Buffy. You have an opportunity for growth here, and an opportunity to save your sister's life as well. Not to mention the world. What's it going to be?" The host gave her one final, encouraging smile, and went back up to the stage to introduce the next song.

Buffy was silent. Around her, the conversation picked up again; Anne asking Cordelia and Wesley about someone named Gunn; Wesley asking a question about Doyle, and Cordy, with great fondness and some sorrow in her voice, answering it; Dawn asking Spike where he'd been all day.

That question jarred Buffy out of her reverie. She knew where Spike had been: with Angel! The pain of that overheard confrontation washed over her again and she put her head down on the table. Spike watched her guardedly, with concern. Finally, he sighed and said, "Hey, I should be getting going. It's a bit late for Bite-size to be up anyway." Buffy looked up suspiciously. He continued blandly, "Cordelia, you guys keep in touch. Oh, and I'm sorry about last year. Anne - thanks for keeping track of the short one. And for the rescue last night." He stood up and tapped Dawn on the shoulder, interrupting a huge yawn. "Well, come on, Sprite."

"Wait a minute. Where do you think you're going?" Buffy demanded.

"I'm giving Dawn a ride home." Spike stated. "Told her I would." He took a deep breath and offered, "Give you one, too, if you like. Up to you."

"You're..." she shook her head, confused.

Spike stepped close to Buffy and asked her quietly, "Were you there today? At the hotel?" She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Bugger," Spike swore. "Listen, Buffy, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there. Not till I got here and talked to Cordelia. I'm sorry my sire's such a prick."

Buffy smiled bitterly. " 'And you came all the way up here to keep him from being a prick'?" She quoted Angel.

"Well, if he turned bad again, you know he'd come after you. I came up here to try and keep him from going bad again. It was the only thing I could think of to protect you, and it would still get me out of Sunnydale like you wanted."

"Spike? Are we going or not? I'm tired," Dawn interrupted their intensely whispered conversation.

"Yeah, kitten, I got you. Be right there," he replied absently. Then, more softly, "Well, Slayer?"

"Spike," Buffy said, with a softer expression than he'd ever seen before, "I'm sorry. And I'd really like a ride home. Please," she added as an afterthought.

Spike smiled. "Come on, then," he said. His tone was brusque, but his eyes were shining. "Good night, you guys."

"I call shotgun," Buffy informed her sister as they left. Dawn shrugged, yawned, and stretched out on the back seat without a word. She was asleep before the engine started. Buffy called her mother on her cell phone to let her know they were on their way home. She neglected to tell her that Spike was giving them a ride, though. No need to worry her even more, she decided.

An awkward silence descended after Buffy made her call, lasting until they got back onto the highway. "What did Anne rescue you from?" Buffy asked finally, her curiosity getting the better of her nervousness. Spike explained what had happened with the three kids. This led to other questions, and he ended up explaining all that had happened from the time he'd picked up Dawn until she'd seen him there in Caritas.

Silence fell again, but this time a more comfortable one. Buffy broke it after a while. "You could never me just 'me in a dead shell,'" she told him. Those were the words he'd used to her two nights ago. "You'll always be annoying, irritating, and infuriatingly Spike. Even if you do turn good, there's no way you could change that much."

Spike grinned, his teeth glinting in the light of a passing streetlamp. "Still not seeing the difference, luv, between me and you." He glanced at her, then started counting off on his fingers, "Annoying, irritating, infuriating..." He laughed as she punched his shoulder and the car veered to the left. "Hey, watch it! I'm too young to die, even if you're not!"

"Hey, I do not have a death wish," Buffy said sharply, thinking he was starting a fight.

He simply nodded approval. "Good," he said softly. "I want you around for a while. Even if you never do give me the chance I asked for... I like knowing you're not dead."

Buffy didn't know how to respond to that, so she said nothing. But after a while, her hand stole closer to Spike's hand that was resting on his knee, and she curled her fingers gently around it. "Thank you," she said in a subdued voice. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze and released them.

It was close to three o'clock in the morning when they finally pulled into Sunnydale. Spike veered alarmingly toward the WELCOME sign, but Buffy screeched and he laughingly pulled back onto the road.

Joyce was still awake when they arrived at the Summers house. Spike carried Dawn through the door and up to her room without her waking up. When he came back down, both Joyce and Buffy were open-mouthed. "Oh, that," he said. "Dawn invited me back in, on the way up to L.A."

Joyce started to protest, but to Spike's surprise, Buffy came to his defense. "Mom, Spike actually helped us a lot. Go easy on him; he took good care of Dawn." Joyce thanked him warily and then headed up to bed herself.

Buffy went to the door with Spike. "Thank you, Spike. I owe you one."

"Slayer, you owe me at least a dozen! But you can pay me back real easy." Spike said with a leer.

"Ew! Spike, you don't mean -"

"Kidding, Summers! God, can't you take a joke?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Go on, get out of here." She gave him a playful shove toward the door.

"All right, all right, I'm going! You know where to find me if you need me." And Spike went out the door and headed down the walk...

"Spike! Wait a sec," Buffy called. She ran after him, reached up and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thanks again," she said breathlessly. "Now, go home before you fry." She went back into the house and Spike strode the rest of the way to his car with a spring in his step.

He went to bed at dawn, resolving to be awake later in the afternoon when Buffy would show up.

He knew she needed him.

END