Because He Needs Me
by DreamsofSpike


A/N: This story picks up right after Entropy, so obviously the Spike/Buffy part of Seeing Red did not take place for the purposes of this story...but otherwise, just assume that everything else from the end of Season Six happened just as in canon, with the exception of Spike going to get his soul...Hopefully I'll fill in some gaps and feel free to ask about it if something doesn't make sense...and if it's not a part of the mystery I'll do my best to *make* it make sense! J


40.  Facing the Past

*What was I to you? What *am* I to you, now?*

The almost painful vulnerability in those words, echoing through the Slayer's mind again and again, made her wary of putting him off, giving him some vague, unsatisfying answer – taking the easy way out.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, her mind racing with panic – and yet she knew one thing, beyond all doubt.

There was no option but to tell him the truth.

She sighed heavily as she placed her fork down beside her plate and forced herself to meet those open, searching eyes, still focused unwavering on her own.

"Could you have possibly asked a harder question?" she asked wryly, yet with a softness that kept the words from being hurtful.

Spike *did* look confused though, frowning slightly as if he was unsure of what the correct answer was to her question – and Buffy was reminded that while most of his basic language skills seemed to have returned to him, subtleties such as sarcasm and slang were still quite a bit beyond Spike's understanding.

"Never mind, Sweetie," she reassured him, shaking her head and giving him a slightly shaky smile – unbelievably nervous now, when faced with the prospect of having to fill Spike in on their painful, confusing past together. "It's just – it's complicated. I mean – what *haven't* we been to each other?"

Spike looked away from her for a moment, troubled and a bit embarrassed by his own failure to understand. "I – I don't know," he replied slowly, hesitantly. "I thought *you* did – that's why I asked you..."

Buffy's expression softened with sympathy, as she reached across the counter to take his hand in hers, and his gaze was drawn back up to hers by the affectionate gesture. "I – I'm really not sure I *do* know, Spike," she confessed quietly. "I mean – I'll do my best to answer that question, but – but I can't guarantee that you'll be happy with the answer."

She hesitated a moment, swallowing hard, steeling herself before adding in a cautiously even voice, "In fact – when I'm finished – you probably won't like me very much anymore."

Spike's puzzled frown deepened, and he shook his head slowly, arguing softly, "No – no, I – I don't think that's possible..."

Buffy's laugh sounded harsh in the stillness that seemed to have fallen around the two of them, and she took her hand from his, putting both of her hands over her face for a moment as her shoulders shook with bitter laughter that could have been tears. When she looked up, her eyes *were* glittering suspiciously, as she faced Spike again.

"We'll see," she answered simply. "Just – finish your blood first. You're going to need your strength for this day. And – and then come in the living room, and we'll talk. Dawn shouldn't be up for hours, so we'll have plenty of time."

Spike glanced down at her practically untouched plate of food, and then back up at her as she rose and poured her half-full glass of juice down the sink. "Aren't you going to eat? You'll need to be strong, too – right?"

"I'm always strong," Buffy's smile was painfully ironic, as she placed the glass in the sink and turned around to face him. "I just – don't feel very hungry right now." And with those words, she turned and walked out of the kitchen, hoping that Spike would give her a few minutes to ready herself for the difficult conversation she knew that they were about to have.

********************************

Spike hesitated, unsure of what to do next, once Buffy had left the kitchen.

His mug of blood was drained in moments, and although he had had several the past few mornings, he really did not have the appetite for more at the moment. Everything in him wanted nothing more than to toss the mug into the sink and hurry into the living room, dying for the answers to his countless questions.

But Buffy's reaction had been clear to him, and he instinctively knew that she needed a few minutes, before answering those questions.

And as always before, as far as Spike was concerned – Buffy's needs came first.

He sighed impatiently as he took the mug to the sink and rinsed it as she had shown him, before putting in the side of the sink that was already filled with warm, soapy water – and then turned around, leaning against the counter and looking toward the living room anxiously.

He was simply so confused.

His sire's blood seemed to have opened up a whole new world of understanding to him – but it was also a world of perplexing images, fragmented half-memories, and questions to which he had no answers. He desperately hoped that Buffy might be able to clear up some of his confusion.

The problem was – she didn't exactly seem as if she *wanted* to.

His first impulse was to let it go – do as she obviously wanted, and not push her for explanations.

But he knew that if he did not find answers soon, the wondering would drive him back to insanity.

When he could no longer stand the waiting – precisely two and a half minutes later – Spike finally took a deep, shaky breath, and made his way into the living room where Buffy was sitting on the sofa, her head resting in her hands. She did not look up as he slowly approached her, sitting down cautiously on the opposite end from where she sat, his wide eyes focused on her warily.

When she looked up at him, she smiled a little too brightly, and Spike could see that her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and still glistening with tears.

"Hey," she said simply, patting the couch beside her as she added gently, "C'mere. While you still want to – okay?" As he obediently slid across the couch until he was within her reach, she put an affectionate hand on his leg, and finished with a bittersweet smile. "Because once you've heard this – I'm not so sure you will."

Spike did not bother to argue with her, though he was pretty sure that there was nothing he could imagine that would make him *not* want to be near her. True, there were disturbing images in his mind now that he could not explain, and many of them involved Buffy – but after all he had been through at Xander's hands, and the way Buffy had rescued him, done everything she could for him to help him to heal – he knew that he could never reject her now.

"What do you – do you remember – anything?" Buffy asked, her voice halting and a bit uncertain. "About – about us...before?"

Spike hesitated, unsure of how to answer. "I – think so," he said finally, not looking at her. "I'm – not sure. There are – pictures – words..." He shook his head, momentarily at a loss. "They – don't make sense. I was hoping – maybe – you could – could help me understand..."

By the time he finished, his voice was barely over a whisper, and trembling as much as he was, when he looked up at her through tear-filled eyes.

"Buffy," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. "I have to know."

"Okay," Buffy began, her eyes wide and nervous as she looked away. "Um – where should I start?" she muttered, more to herself than to Spike.

He answered anyway. "Where did – where did *we* start?"

Startled by the slight edge to his voice, the faint note of the acute perception that had always been so much a part of who Spike was, before his ordeal, Buffy looked up at him suddenly – a slow smile spreading across her face with the fond memories that flooded her mind, of a look very similar to the look that was on his face just then – piercing and understanding, giving her the impression that whatever she was trying to hide at the moment was somehow laid bare to his eyes.

"Okay," she agreed with a slow nod. "I guess you might say 'we' started – in an alley, not far from here. You watched me kill a vampire – and then you told me you were going to kill me. On Saturday."

Spike's eyes widened in alarm. "*Why*?" he asked, aghast at the idea.

Buffy had to make an effort not to laugh out loud. "Did Angel explain to you what a vampire is?"

Spike nodded, his eyes still wide and stricken as he stared at her, still horrified that he had ever made such a threat.

"Okay," Buffy nodded again in acceptance. "What about – a vampire *slayer*?"

Spike's blank look was all the answer she needed.

"Okay...here goes..."

*****************************

Half an hour later, Buffy had managed to get through "The Story of Us", Buffy-and-Spike version, up to the point of her death on Glory's tower – or, more accurately, *off* Glory's tower. She did not think that she had left out *too* much – she had been doing her best to be as honest as possible – and now, she was beginning to feel more than a little exhausted, from the reliving of so many intense memories.

"You died." Spike's voice sounded more than a little stunned – as if the whole story had him in a bit of shock.

"Yes."

"But – you're here."

Buffy looked up at him with a little half-smile. "So are you."

There was a brief flash of self-deprecating amusement in the vampire's blue eyes, as he shrugged slightly and met her apprehensive gaze. "Yes. I am." He paused, taking in a breath as if to speak – and then hesitating. Then, all at once he blurted out, "I was in love with you – wasn't I?"

Buffy felt all of the breath sucked out of her in a single instant, the world spinning around her, as she tried to steady herself from the stunning blow that was that simple, profound question.

"D-do you – even know – what that means, Spike? To be – in love?" she stammered, aware that she was pitifully stalling. "I mean – we haven't – talked about..."

"I remember," he answered softly, his eyes focused on the floor, his body tensing slightly under her hand as he swallowed hard – suddenly seeming terribly self-conscious.

Buffy could not help asking, though her voice trembling with a rush of emotion. "*How*? How, out of all the memories that you've lost, do you still remember love?"

Spike was silent for a long moment, shaking his head slightly, as unaccountably, a tear streaked down his cheek from one downcast blue eye. Suddenly, he looked up at her, his eyes welling with a powerful emotion that took her completely off guard – overwhelming her with a torrent of love, pain, shame...all of the feelings that her relationship with Spike had inspired in her over the years, all at once – and to a level of intensity that was almost physically unbearable, as he answered in a breathless, tremulous whisper.

"How could I forget?"

Buffy found that even if she had had the words, in that moment, to respond – her throat had closed up on her, refusing to allow it, as tears coursed down her cheeks.

*Of course,* she thought with an overwhelming sense of love for this vampire that seemed to have the capacity to love beyond any human man she had ever known. *Of course, Spike would remember love. If he forgot everything else – he would never forget love...oh, Buffy, how could you have been such a fool? All those years – so much wasted...*

"You – you didn't want me...didn't love me...did you?"

Buffy flinched at the lost, fearful sound of his voice – suddenly terribly vulnerable, as Spike looked back down at his lap, obviously afraid to hear the answer that he somehow already knew. He had told her that he had regained snatches of memory – random words and pictures that, without her putting them together into the full story, were meaningless to him.

Apparently, she had told him enough by now to allow him to put some of the pieces together.

"I was stupid," she answered simply, not thinking about the words before they were out there. "I – I didn't know – I – should have..."

"I'm a monster."

Momentarily stunned to silence, Buffy's eyes widened in dismay before she finally managed to gasp out, "*What*?"

Spike would not look at her, and she suddenly realized that he was shrinking back a bit from her hand on his leg, trembling violently now, though not quite pulling away from her. "Y-you said so. Said I'm – an evil thing. Bad."

Buffy felt the sobs of guilt and anguish swelling up inside her at his words. There was no accusation in them – in fact, his voice sounded as if he felt that the blame rested with *him* -- but that only served to make her heart feel all the more condemned, for the way she had treated him in the months before he had been so irrevocably changed.

"Spike," she whispered, shaking her head as she turned to face him, reaching out her arms to take him in. "Spike, no...you're not..."

This time, he did pull away from her, backing away, fearful eyes fastened on her as he interrupted, shaking his head, "D-deserved it...didn't I? I was – I was – bad...that's why you – you couldn't l-love me...right? Because I was bad...couldn't feel...couldn't love...monster..."

With each cruel echo of the words she had spoken to him not so very long ago, Buffy's heart broke again. "No, Spike," she sobbed, tears streaming down her face as she took his arms in her hands, trying desperately to catch his gaze, though he kept his eyes emphatically averted, refusing. "No, please listen to me! It wasn't you – it was – it was me...I was the one who couldn't...who didn't...oh, Spike, I'm so sorry! I was the monster, Baby – I hurt you so much, and I'm so, so sorry!"

Seemingly heedless of her words, Spike momentarily resisted as she put her arms around him – and then just as quickly relented, clinging to her desperately with shaking hands, sobs to match her own torn from his throat with his tears, as he gasped out, "Please – please, Buffy – I know I'm not – I know I d-don't deserve – but – please – please, Buffy, please *love me*! Please!"

Buffy simply had no words – suddenly faced with the plea that had been mostly silent, all of the previous two years, but nevertheless, *there*, in every unnaturally noble gesture, every ill-received gift and token of his affection that he had offered her, only to have every last one cast aside, with no thought to his broken heart, his shattered feelings.

*All that time -- *this* is what he was saying...all he wanted from me,* Buffy realized with a fresh onslaught of shame at the truth. *So much pain – so much suffering, for both of us – could have been avoided...if only I'd have...*

Stripped of her preconceived notions of what Spike was – of the burning rage and resentment toward herself, and anyone who dared to love her in her broken condition the whole past year – of every last defense that had kept her from admitting the truth for so long – Buffy finally broke down, the truth spilling from her lips unfettered.

"I do," she sobbed out passionately, holding him close to her, although at this point he was making no attempt to pull away. "Spike, I do love you! I think – I think I always have – I was just too – scared, and stupid...I love you...I really do, Spike...I love you so much!"