Strolling between the headstones in a dark cemetery the following night, Giles led the routine patrol with Buffy, Kennedy, and Amanda. The newest Potential, a young Chinese woman, also accompanied them.
"It was uh, extraordinary good luck, of course." Giles explained, referring to when he miraculously managed to avoid being decapitated by one of the Bringers who were murdering Watchers in London. "And–and, uh, training— years of training. Chao-Ahn, keep up. You're new here, Chao-Ahn, so take note. Remember about training. But I honestly feel the largest part of it was instinct. Instinct, and–and reflexes. There's a sort of wary watchfulness I've developed over the years. It's like another sense—"
His lecture was brought to an abrupt end when, out of nowhere, he was knocked to the ground by none other than Spike.
"Spike!" Buffy called out, worried.
"Hey!" Spike and Giles exclaimed simultaneously, scrambling away from one another.
"You're not in pain." Giles observed, still speaking in unison with Spike, who said at the same time: "You're not the first."
"What?" Giles asked, confused.
"Anya said you were the first. Said you were evil. You're supposed to be all go-through-able." Spike stood upright, joining Buffy's side.
Hauling himself onto his feet, Giles stared at Spike with dumbfounded irritation. "Then what the hell did you tackle me for, you berk? What's that supposed to do?"
"I, uh, I didn't think of that." Spike confessed sheepishly.
"More importantly, you just hit me. Why didn't your chip go off?" Giles demanded.
Spike bowed his head slightly, averting his eyes. "Yeah, well..."
"Well, uh, when Hel and Spike were at the Initiative..." Buffy intervened, trailing off and glancing sidelong at Spike for assistance with her explanation.
Spike looked over at her. "There was a choice."
She redirected her gaze to Giles. "Right. Either repair the chip, or remove it."
"You had it remov– you removed the chip?" Giles blurted in disbelief, eyes wide.
Buffy smiled tentatively, trying her very best to look innocent. "Yeah."
"Had to make a choice." Spike interjected.
"It really is okay." She added.
"What's a chip?" Amanda inquired, utterly lost.
"They removed the chip?" Kennedy remarked, incredulous.
Chao-Ahn posed a question in Chinese, her words unintelligible to the English-speakers around her.
While everyone else continued patrolling, Spike made his way back to the house. Sauntering into the kitchen through the back door, he decided to brew himself a tea. Then, mug in hand, he set out in search of Hel. He found her in no time at all, sitting alone at the dining room table.
She was huddled over her first cup of coffee, her mind miles away as she stared vacantly at the mustard-yellow mug clasped between her slender white hands. Her dark hair was not yet tamed, tumbling past her shoulder in bed-head curls. She wore a pair of black and white striped pyjama shorts and one of his button-up shirts, which was much too large for her.
Wordlessly, Spike took the seat opposite her. Together they sat in companionable silence, sipping from their mugs.
Buffy, Kennedy, Amanda, Chao-Ahn, and Giles returned shortly. The Potentials filed into the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before bed, while Buffy and Giles separated from the group to have a private discussion about the state of their makeshift army in the living room. At around eleven-thirty, Xander and Willow dropped by the house for a visit, not long after the Potentials had gone to bed.
Hel indulged in a quick shower, then joined the Scooby gang in the living room and stood by the round table piled high with ancient texts. She was painfully bored after only a few minutes, regretting her decision.
Spike arrived mere moments later, leaning against the door jamb. He saw her before he saw anything else in the room.
His eyes raked along her body, starting at the loose black curls that fell freely down her back and moving downward from there. Her arms were crossed, folded under her breasts. She wore a black satin, spaghetti-strap camisole with tiny buttons down the front and a low, lace-trimmed neckline. The hem was tucked into the high waist of black leather trousers that clung to her legs and hips like a second skin. The pair of wedge-heeled, black leather sneakers laced up on her feet added about an inch to her height.
In his periphery vision, he noticed her watching him. In spite of knowing he had been caught, his eyes took their sweet time trailing back up to meet her gaze. Spike held her stare boldly, raising an eyebrow as if issuing an unspoken challenge.
Hel raised a daring eyebrow in return. Then, she turned and strode away from the group, through the opening that led into the kitchen.
He followed her from the room, cornering her in the narrow corridor connecting the front foyer to the kitchen. "Just out of curiosity, exactly how much longer are we gonna continue ignoring what happened the other night?"
She stopped dead in her tracks, turning to face him. "I don't know what you mean."
He took one step closer and she took one step in reverse, her back bumping against the wall. He braced one hand beside her head, his fingers splayed flat and his arm forming a barricade. "We kissed, Hel."
She made the grave mistake of breathing deeply, and inhaled in his distinctive, familiar scent. Subtle, but thoroughly intoxicating. It made her want to bury her face in the crook of his neck and inhale deeply, to taste his skin and feel his hands on her.
Hel swept a stray strand of dark hair out of her eyes with one hand. "It didn't mean anything. I was bored. You were a distraction. The sooner you accept that, the better." The lie rolled off her tongue with incredible ease. Deception had always been one of her strong suits, a skill she inherited from her father. "It won't happen again."
"We both know that's not true, luv." Spike countered, not be so easily dismissed.
She rolled her eyes at his arrogance. "Don't hold your breath."
"You know I'm right."
"Are you always so full of yourself?"
"Yes."
She rested both hands defiantly on her hips. "You're wrong."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"I don't think so." He whispered hoarsely, his blue eyes burning into her own.
God, that voice of his... That voice did things to her. Unspeakable things.
Her resolve, though weakened, held steadfast. Hel stared right back at him, standing her ground, and kept her lips sealed.
"Tell me the truth." He crooned, his gaze flickering down to her lips and back up to her eyes. He leaned in closer, aligning his head with hers. His lips brushed against the pale column of her slender throat, and Spike could feel her pulse racing beneath his lips. "No more games." He breathed.
"Or what?" She muttered, feeling as though her very knees were about buckle under his seductive influence.
"Or—"
"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" Came Xander's familiar voice.
Spike immediately dropped his arm, backing away from her. "I had a muscle cramp. Uh... Hel was helping."
"You had a muscle cramp? In your... Pants?" Xander inquired sceptically.
"What? It's a real thing."
Clearing her throat awkwardly, Hel slipped past Spike and disappeared into the kitchen.
Before Spike could follow her, Xander grabbed his arm and brought him to a halt. "Tell her." He stage-whispered.
Spike frowned at him in confusion. "Tell her what?"
"You know what."
When Spike continued to stare blankly and say nothing in reply, Xander sighed.
"Tell her that you're in love with her, and that you always have been. Tell her that there's no point in wasting time, because things happen and then it's too late."
Spike scoffed, "She doesn't love me. She's not that stupid." On that dismissive note, he swaggered away with characteristic disregard.