Part 8
 

Buffy jumped off the bed, "What the hell did you do?"

Spike ignored her outburst. "Well, thanks for giving me the second chance, Slayer. Who died and made you judge, jury, and executioner?"

"Spike, what the hell is wrong with your legs?"

His long legs stretched out in front of him, black and charred. His upper body was unmarred, but his legs were grossly burnt. In some places, Buffy could clearly see the white of his bone standing out in the black skin.

He shrugged, "What's it look like? They're burned."

"I can't believe you did this. What's wrong with you?!"

Spike jumped off the bed too and glared at her. "What do you think is wrong with me?"

"Is this some sick way to get attention? To get pity? To get back into my bed?"

"Yeah, you would think that, wouldn't you Slayer," he said coldly.

"What am I supposed to think? You have a very sick and disgusting problem."

"Why not? I'm just a sick and disgusting thing, aren't I?"

"Why do you keep hurting yourself?" Her voice had softened and she didn't look so angry anymore.

"Everything about my pitiful existence hurts, Slayer. To you and your friends I will always be a monster, first and foremost. To the demons and the vampires, I'm just the Slayer's neutered lap dog." Spike paused then finally admitted in a low tone, almost too quiet for Buffy to catch, "I'm alone."

"I don't understand what that has to do with torturing yourself."

"Why do you give a fuck, Slayer? Can you be honest with me and yourself for once in your bloody life and tell me why you give a fuck?"

"Because this isn't the Spike I know."

Spike snorted, "Good one, pet. But you don't know me at all and never have."

"Yes I do," Buffy insisted.

"What do you know about me? You know that I loved Drusilla and used to kill a lot of people and now I'm a worthless vampire who is good for baby sitting and scratching an itch? There's a lot more to me than that!"

Buffy was silent for several seconds. He had a point; he'd basically outlined everything she did know about him. "Then tell me about yourself."

Spike studied her face. He might as well tell her whatever she wanted to know, because there was no way in hell he was staying in Sunnydale after this. Maybe he'd go back to Europe, or maybe he'd torment the poof in L.A., or maybe he'd take a walk in the park -- in the middle of the day. He snickered at the thought of the screaming children watching the vampire go up in flames.

"I don't like being alone, Slayer. I'm not a loner. I like to love and be loved. But guess what? Nobody has ever loved me back. Not Drusilla, not Harmony, certainly not you. The Niblet loves me, I think, but that's no thanks to you. I used to have purpose, Buffy. I murdered and maimed and cut a swath across Europe. I didn't just feed off their blood, I fed off their fear, their awe, their tears. But most importantly, I thrived off Drusilla, and even Angelus to an extent, because they gave me what I really needed.

"Now I don't have any of that. I don't have the blood, the fear, the awe. I don't have respect. I don't have Drusilla, love, or attention. My life revolved around you, and for you I'm nothing more than a convenience that can be discarded at will. Well, I'm tired of it!"

Spike stood panting after his impassioned speech, his eyes not moving from Buffy's face. For her part, she didn't know how to respond.

"This, Slayer," he motioned at his now slightly shaking legs, "this is pain I can control. I can tell it when to stop and start. And it's about the only control I have left. So just leave me alone."

"Spike, I..." I what? I didn't know? I'm sorry? Buffy didn't know what to say.

"Just leave, Slayer. I'm tired." When she didn't move he took a step towards her and roared, "Get the fuck out!"

Buffy spun on her heel and climbed the ladder. Spike collapsed on his bed and started to sob.

///////

Spike let himself cry, not trying to stifle the tears or choke back the sobs. There was no point in that. He cried for a past that he couldn't change and wouldn't regret. He cried for Drusilla. He cried for his failures and his successes. But above all else, he cried for Buffy, because he knew he was never going to see her again. And he knew that she probably wouldn't even miss him.

Buffy heard his sobbing. She stood in the upper part of his crypt, her heart aching, tears of her own falling from her eyes. She had never heard anybody sound so agonized, so lost. She had never heard anybody cry as if their hearts were literally breaking. She supposed she had never seen anybody's heart break.

Finally his tears slowed and she only heard an occasional snuffle as he moved around. Curious to see what he was up to and concerned that he was going to hurt himself again, she carefully looked down into the crypt, straining her neck. He wasn't hurting himself.

He was packing.

Buffy's mouth fell open. He was leaving. She couldn't let him leave, but she didn't know if it was really fair to stop him. If she did she had to start treating him differently. She couldn't expect him to stay here if she planned on treating him the same as before.

Buffy closed her eyes; it wouldn't be fair to stop him. She slowly backed out of the crypt.

Spike heard movement upstairs and paused, cocking his head to the side. When he didn't hear anything else, he shrugged and continued packing. God, he didn't want to leave Buffy. He wasn't lying when he said she was his reason for existing these past few years. Even when she was dead, she was his reason for existing.

Spike pulled on his clean pants and grimaced with pain. He was almost weeping again, it hurt so bad. But he couldn't walk around without pants, and he couldn't stay here. It was his own fault anyway.

Once he packed his meager possessions he headed for the sewers. He would stop by and see his lil Bit, and tell her goodbye. It wouldn't be fair to just run out on her. Maybe he'd even promise her that he'd write. By the time he got there and told her goodbye it would be dark, so from the house he'd go to the area behind the dump where he hid his car and be on his merry way.

When he knocked the on door, Buffy answered and seemed surprised to see him. "Oh..."

Spike arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Just came to see Niblet. Is she here?"

"Uh, yeah." Buffy realized he was probably telling her goodbye. She sighed, Dawn would not be happy about that. "Dawn!" She yelled.

Dawn emerged from the kitchen. "What? Oh! Hi Spike," she said cheerfully. "Long time no see. What's up?"

"Can you step out here for a minute, bit? I need to talk to you."

Dawn looked apprehensive. "Ok." She followed him out, "What's up?"

"Niblet, Dawn, I'm leaving town. Probably for good."

"What?" Dawn was outraged, "You can't!"

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because there's nothing for me here."

Dawn grabbed him and hugged him tightly. "I'm here," she choked out. "You promised to protect me, take care of me."

Spike gently patted her head, "I know. But you have Big Sis, you didn't need me here anymore."

"But I love you." Dawn looked up at him with large blue eyes, swimming in a sea of tears.

Spike gently kissed the top of your head, "I love you too. I promise, I'll write you, when I get where I'm going."

"Where's that?"

Spike shrugged, "I'll know when I get there. Now get back inside."

"Are you telling Buffy goodbye?"

Spike smiled, "I already did."

"No, you didn't," Buffy said from the door. "Dawn, go inside."

She released Spike, shot a dirty look at her sister, than ran up the stairs and into her room.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"Like I told Dawn, I'll know when I get there."

"You promised you'd take care of her."

"Well, I don't see how it matters to you much. You don't believe I have love, or pride, or dignity. I don't know why you would think I have integrity."

"I do."

"You do what?"

"I do think you have those things. I know you can love, I know you have pride and dignity. And I know you always keep your word."

Such a speech before would have warmed Spike's undead heart, but now it seemed like too little too late.

"But you still don't care," Spike stated.

She took a step towards him. "I do care. Spike, I don't want you to leave."

"Only because it's harder to play Kick-the-Spike when I'm not around."

She smiled slightly, "No, that's not it. I do care about you, a lot. And I can't imagine life without you. You're my partner, my lover, my friend."

Spike studied her face closely, looking for insincerity. He hardly dared to believe her, knowing that she was giving him all she could and fearing that she would yank it all away again.

"It's late. Almost time for Dawn to go to bed. Why don't you come in?"

Buffy looked him right in the eye, her chin raised, daring him to walk away. His legs ached and throbbed and his eyes started to water. He could hear everything around him, even the mice scurrying under the house. He could hear her heart thudding quickly. She was nervous. Maybe even scared.

She took another step towards him and he moved closer to her. It would be so easy to lean over and kiss her. So sweet. His hand came up and he slowly caressed her face. "I can't do this again, Buffy. If I come inside than you have to learn to accept who I was then and who I am now."

She nodded, "I will. I can."

"I don't want to be used anymore, Buffy."

She nodded. She just wanted him to kiss her and make things right again. She arched towards him and he lowered his head, his lips gently caressing hers. The kiss was full of questions and promises and Buffy grasped his hand then broke away. She put her lips against his ear and breathed, "Let me make love to you."

He followed her into the house, leaving his broken heart and tears in the cold shadows of the night where they belonged.