The moon hangs in the sky, full and bright and there are hardly any clouds. If this was a movie there’d be backing music and wind rising. It’s all kinda romantic.

The kiss between Buffy Summers and Spike doesn’t stop, but does linger. When he finally pulls out of the embrace, Spike holds her in his arms. He’s slightly confused what brought it on. Buffy looks at him and then stammers back.

“I know. That came out of nowhere. Let me…” She stops talking and takes a deep breath. She has it all in her head, or at least she did until that kiss. That really, really, actually quite excellent, kiss. She shakes her brain back to normal. “We had that thing, back before you had a soul, when I was in a real dark place, and it was unhealthy – on so many levels.”

She looks away for a moment and then doubles back, staring at the silent vampire. “But it wasn’t you. Not the now ‘you’ with the soul. And I’ve grown too, I hope.” She screams a guttural grunt. “I am making a royal mess of this.”

Refocusing and trying to find the words, Buffy continues, hardly breathing between syllables. “What I’m trying to say is, I realised we’ve never really given us a shot. And if you’re up for it, I’d like to.”

She takes his hands in hers and smiles at him now, a bright, hopeful smile. Spike knows he should be happy. This is what he’s been waiting for. So he surprises her and, most of all himself, when he pulls away and takes a step back.

“Slayer, I… I don’t know.”

Buffy looks up at him, in quiet shock. “What?”

Spike turns now, the words going through his head and to his mouth, words he’s clearly been preparing to say for quite some time. He looks at her, almost angry. “I mean, now? I’ve pined for you for ages. But I was starting to get used to the notion of us as friends. Feeling okay on my own. And now you do this?”

Buffy gives a goofy grin, but then goes serious. “‘This’? You say that like I repossessed your car. I’m not trying to mess with you, Spike.”

“Are you sure?”

Now, it’s Buffy’s turn to get angry with him and her face changes suddenly. “Okay, I know you didn’t just…”

Spike raises his hands – he doesn’t want to fight. But he has an opinion and needs to share it. “Not on purpose. I’m not accusing you of trying to hurt me, pet. But think about it. When did you want me? When I was soulless. A naughty secret. A rebellion against everything you were supposed to be.”

Off her empty look, he continues. “Talking of blokes who pined after you, Xander was your mix-tape puppy for years and you couldn’t be less interested – until he took up with your sister.”

Buffy sighs and hits her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I should never have let you two move in together.”

But, if Spike hears her comment, he doesn’t stop. “After that, Angel. Again. But not Angel when he was a boring private eye in LA who would’ve played house with you. Mad God Angel. And long before… a girl – when you’re clearly not gay.”

Buffy gets annoyed now, but not at the vampire. “Xander! That boy overshares like it’s his job!”

Spike stops for a moment, silence again in the air. Then he turns to her. “Are we detecting a pattern here, Slayer? Seems to me you always want what you can’t have. I say yes, then what? A month later you get bored and develop a sudden desire for Andrew? Willow? Giles?”

His tone is quick, but harsh. Buffy doesn’t say much else. She stares at him, hurt and then, turning, agrees. “No. You’re right. This was a bad idea.” Then, she’s gone, flipping over a wall and leaving Spike standing in the middle of the cemetery, alone and confused.

He puts his hands to his face. He feels stupid. Talking to himself, he looks at the stars and sighs. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty much a moron.”

A short time later, back in the apartment he shares with Xander, his roommate has just given his expert opinion on his moment with Buffy. Spike is not amused, yelling back.

“You told me you gave her the same bloody speech in Tibet!”

Xander nods, gestures loudly. “I was in love with someone else. You, on the other hand, are single and available and in love with her. From where I’m standing, it seems she rather courageously broke out of her pattern of dysfunction to reach out to you. And at her moment of greatest vulnerability, you slapped her down, confirming her worst deep-seated fears about male abandonment.”

Spike once against grumbles under his breath. “I am such an idiot.”

Xander places a hand on Spike’s shoulder and looks him in the eye. “No. You’re damaged. Not unlike her. I’ve been covering this in therapy. Did you ever consider that what you said to her applies to you, too? Except you gravitate towards women who are incapable of having a healthy relationship: crazy Drusilla, self-hating Buffy. Harmony.”

Spike tells him he doesn’t need psycho analysis, from Xander of all people, but Xander has a point to make.

“Look, I get it. Love means risk. Putting your heart in someone else’s hands can get you hurt. Bad. But that’s what love is. What I’m going through right now is rough, but I don’t regret one second of what I had with Dawn. Even if that’s all it’ll ever be… it was worth every ounce of pain.”

Spike hears the words and turns towards the door. “I’ve got to go after her!”

But Xander stops him. Buffy needs space. “Whoa there, cowboy! You just poked the bear. Whatever you say now will be viewed as further poking and likely met with violence. Give her some time to breathe.”

Spike starts to explain, leather duster in hand, that he can’t just leave the Slayer out there all upset, especially with flesh golems on the loose, but before Xander can say anything or comment more, a crashing sound shatters the peace and a hulking form comes careening through a window, glass smashing all around him.

Xander and Spike cover their faces with their hands and are stunned when they look back around – and see Andrew Wells in front of them, superhero muscles still in effect. Xander whispers his friend’s name, partly because of the look and almost certainly out of jealousy.

“Sorry. Still getting the hang of my powers. I can’t fly, but I can jump great distances. It’s all very Golden Age Superman.”

He stands up to his full height, showing off his superhero stance with his hands on his hips. But he has more to report. “But no time for talk. A grave crisis has arisen, that only a crossover event of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes can stand against! In other words, I need your help, Superfriends!”

A few minutes later, across the hall in the girls’ apartment, Andrew stands before the group with his friends: his demonology student Julie and his blind date, Wiccan leader Clive. He looks at the group and explains his appearance. “Please try not to be distracted by my rippling physique and superhuman abilities. I drank a potion that turned me into my ideal self. As one does.” He turns to his allies. “These are my friends. Julie and Clive. They’re part of a Coven in Oakland because San Francisco is so over.”

He then recalls what happened at the Bacchanal. “We were attacked by a nasty demon lord and his flesh golems. He was after the potion. We fought him off, but he’ll be back.”

Giles nods. This adds up with the theories that the others have come up with. “The Sculptor. Andrew is right – given time, he could create an endless supply of homunculi from any dead flesh. We must stop him while we can.”

Buffy tells the others about earlier that evening, minus the smooches. “Spike and I fought his goons at that eco-friendly cemetery. Cleaned the place out but the boss man wasn’t there.”

“Then he’ll be somewhere else that gives him ready access to materials,” Giles offers. “A mystic search of slaughterhouses and meatpacking plants seems in order.”

“Giles and I will be busy with combat spells,” Willow tells Clive, smiling. “We could use someone to unravel the reanimation magic. If I give you a temporary power boost, are you up for it?”

Clive smiles, a huge grin on his face. “Are you kidding? Working with Willow Rosenberg? It’s every Coven’s dream!”

Across the room, Spike and Dawn both wish to talk to Buffy about their various disagreements earlier, but Buffy dismisses them when they ask if they can talk.

“No and no. We’ve got business to handle.” She then turns away from them, avoiding their eyes and yells for info. “Andrew! Point me towards something I can stab!”

An hour and a half later, and the Scooby Gang is starting to regret this one. They’re at a meatpacking warehouse, South of the market district. Inside the large space, the Sculptor stands on a walkway, yelling, as the Scooby Gang all try to make their way through his flesh golems. As Willow uses magic and Dawn and Xander use blunt force, Buffy, armed with the Scythe, looks at the mound of flesh before her in disgust. “Okay. If the Doublemeat Palace didn’t make me vegan, this ought to do it.”

“Stupid meat. Flesh is my medium!” the Sculptor roars. “This entire city feeds my work. YOU WILL DIE FOR MY ART!”

Clive and Julie are huddled in a safe part of the warehouse, flicking through Willow’s spell book, but Julie is having difficulty. She tells Clive that the magic is not working and Clive looks up as a shadow looms over them. He thinks the golems are too big, and the pair shudder as one of the creatures, featureless form grasping for them, comes near.

Andrew has overheard them however, and, keeping his eyes on his friends, launches at the golem and rips it apart with his bare hands! “Well, if size is the problem, I’m the solution,” he says, landing on his feet and pulling the flesh apart until it lays there, twitching on the floor, like a limb disconnected. “And, um… let’s not make that my catchphrase, okay?”

As he turns to smile at Clive, the bigger pile of flesh that’s in the centre of the room, suddenly and horribly, grabs Andrew and pulls him inside itself. Clive yells his name, as Andrew sinks from view.

Spike, swinging for the creature with a sword, stops for a moment as the mass stops fighting him and starts to wobble, quivering like jelly. “What the bloody..?”

And then, with a triumphant cry and shouting the word “GROSS!” loudly, Andrew rips himself free from the creature, the flesh sprawling, blood everywhere.

Willow realises his intentions and yells orders at the others. “Andrew’s splitting it in half! Help him!”

Now that the pieces are smaller, Clive and Julie begin again, and this time, the spell works, sending back the creatures until the flesh just stops, falling to the ground with a satisfying splash. Dawn raises her hand to her nose instantly, the smell of rotting flesh hanging in the warehouse’s air.

“Looks like the puppet master’s scattered,” Spike says, looking for the Sculptor. He’s vanished from the walkway. Willow floats down behind him, gently landing on the floor without a sound.

“But we disarmed him. It’ll take him a while to build up the raw materials for a new army. I’ll try to track him in the meantime.”

Andrew turns to his friends. “Are you guys all right?” Julie is full of praise and smiles, declaring the whole thing ‘awesome’. Clive approaches Andrew. “You saved our lives! I don’t know how to…”

“Thank me? I have an idea.” With a quick move, Andrew lowers Clive back and kisses him, full on the lips.

Xander turns, surprised, and asks if his friends have noticed Andrew’s new interest. Giles looks back and is non-plussed, sarcastically complaining at him.

“Yes, I’m quite aware it’s the summer of love for everyone but me. Now be quiet. I need to help burn this decaying flesh before we catch the plague.”

Clive breaks away from the kiss, breathless. “That was welcome, but surprising. I wasn’t even sure you liked guys.”

Andrew looks him straight in the eyes “Me neither until now. I decided it’s time to take a good look at myself. Really be honest about who I am and what I… Um… Clive… Did you just get heavier?”

And suddenly, Andrew realises, the potion is gone and his body has reverted to pre-superhero proportions. He finds he can no longer support Clive in his arms, and tumbles on top of him.

Disappointed, he looks down at himself. “I’m back to…”

“Your old self,” Clive tells him, still smiling. “Whatever the potion empowered you to accomplish, you did it. Beating the monster, I guess.”

As they get up, Clive smiles, but Andrew takes a step back, pulling his hands away, covering up his bare flesh, embarrassed. “I… Did I just..?”

Xander appears behind him, wraps his arms around his friend. “Hey, sister, way to do it for yourself! Dare I say that was fabulous? I don’t know when you kicked down the closet door, but can I just say, BRAVO!”

He looks at Andrew’s face, wonders why he’s not smiling. “Not that it comes as a surprise to anyone, of course. I just thought you were on the way down low. But it’s a new era, right? Who even cares? You’re here, you’re queer, and I am totally used to it!”

Andrew pulls away from Xander, turns around to the group and stammers his words out, heading straight for the door. “I have to go.”

After he’s gone, Xander turns to Clive and Julie. “I overdid the support?”

Clive smiles a tiny smile and makes a gesture with his hand. “Little bit.”

Across the warehouse, Spike now approaches Buffy. He instantly apologises for his mistake earlier that evening. Buffy, looking at Giles and Willow destroying the meat, and concerned for Andrew following his revelation, smiles at him.

“No… Don’t apologise. If Andrew can take an honest look at himself, I should be able to and… I kinda have been. You were right.”

She steps closer towards him so he can see her face in the light. “I was being impulsive. And stupid. We’ve worked so hard for so long to get where we are. To something important. Something real. Friendship. And I know ‘just friends’ is supposed to be a bad thing, but there’s nothing ‘just’ about it. You mean so much to me, Spike. You’re one of the few people in this world I can count on.”

“Not just to be there for me, but to be honest with me. Like you were at the cemetery,” she says, moving her hair behind her ear as she does. “I mean, do you know how many guys would’ve used that as an excuse for a roll in the hay, and only brought up the complications after?”

Spike looks down at the ground. “Um. Yeah. That would’ve been wrong, wouldn’t it?”

Buffy smiles, and moves even closer. Her hand is on his arm now, and he has no idea when it got there. “What I’m saying is, I love what we have here. And it would’ve been stupid and thoughtless to risk that by rushing into something. So I’m sorry. You did the right thing. And thanks.”

She goes quiet, looks up at him with hope. He’s searching for his words carefully.

Spike stares at her in silence for a moment. “Pretty speech, Slayer. Every word you said is right and true. Just one problem.” He turns for a moment and then copies her movements, looking her in the eyes and ensuring contact. “I’m in love with you.”

Buffy and Spike don’t remember getting home. They just get there, back to his place and slam open the door. They don’t let go of each other, their mouths meeting, hungrily and passionately. Buffy kicks the front door shut. Then she throws Spike against a wall, and the action figures and books on a shelf go tumbling to the ground.

Next door, trying to distract himself, Giles turns up the volume on the video game he’s playing. Xander however, hears a crash from his apartment and yells out in horror. “No! Not my maquettes!”

Dawn turns, chuckling. “You don’t know that’s what it is.”

“I know the sound of my maquettes shattering!” They race to the wall and try to listen.

Dawn’s not convinced. “Come on! That doesn’t sound anything like…” And then, ears against the wall, she looks up at Xander and he looks down at her. Then he yells, really loudly at Buffy and Spike.

“You can go back to shattering-maquette sounds!”

Dawn giggles in embarassment. “Oh my. Do you think this is some kind of Three’s Company thing, where we assume something dirty and they’re really just making sandwiches?”

Xander listens again and turns to her, gives her a straight answer immediately.

“No. That sound is definitely something dirty.”

Across the room, voice now raised in anger and frustration, Giles yells ferociously, throwing his console controller to the floor in rage. “I’m glad you find this amusing. I, for one, cannot abide this selfishness one moment longer. Does it even occur to them there are other people sentenced to years of forced celibacy!”

Dawn tries to looks sympathetic. “Try to cut them some slack. They’ve been alone a long time.”

“Yeah, and come on, how much action did you really get when you were old?” Xander immediately regrets the question however and changes his tactics. “Uh, that is, there’s so much in life that’s more important than sex. There’s, well, for example… Dawn, help me out…”

“Climate change?”

Xander turns, unamused and whispers at her. “He can’t fix climate change. I’m trying to give him something to do.”

Dawn thinks aloud. “I don’t know. It really depends on his interests? Developing magic talents? And academics. And, um, tweed?”

“THANK YOU FOR MAKING IT INFINITELY WORSE!” Giles yells at them both now, his temper rising and he storms off, heading for the door and the presumed safety of his own apartment.

As he slams the door behind him, Dawn sighs at Giles’ mood. “Poor little guy.”

Xander picks up the controller Giles discarded and hands it to Dawn. “When I was his age, I cruised through years of celibacy, no problem. I got really good at Dungeons and Dragons.”

Another noise from next door, this one even louder, has Xander and Dawn instantly turn to the nearest wall. “Y’know what, I think they are making sandwiches, if you know what I mean.”

“I actually have no idea,” Dawn replies.

“Neither do I, but it sounds filthy doesn’t it?” Now he picks up the other console controller. “Can I interest you in a game of Pimp Slap IV?”

Dawn grins. She intends to kick his backside. “Ring the bell. School’s in session.”

Across the hall, Buffy sleeps, exhausted, in Spike’s arms. He’s not asleep, but he’s staring at her, in love. But at the same time, he’s annoyed with himself.

“Stupid sod. Afraid to fall asleep because she might not be here when you wake. You’re already the luckiest man in the world. Just be bloody happy. Nothing could ruin this.”

He nestles his head against the sleeping Slayer, and, in a few minutes, is just as asleep.

He finds himself dreaming. A couple, dressed in modern clothing, walking home. The woman has perfume on and the scent of alcohol and sweat cling to the young couple. Their hormones are wild, pheromones causing his pulse to quicken. It’s clearly date night.

He sees something approach them and then sees the reflection. It’s him. William the Bloody. And the dream becomes a nightmare, splashed in an ocean of crimson, as Spike rips his teeth into the woman’s throat, her date strewn on the floor, lifeless.

Spike is then awake, vampire face across his features and he screams in horror.

He feels the bumps on his forehead and realises, looking down at Buffy, where he is. But he sits on the end of the bed for a moment, unsettled and concerned. He mumbles to himself, not willing to wake the Slayer.

“Easy. Just a dream.” Then he puts his head in his hands, and whispers to himself, trying to convince his guts. “It was just a dream…”