Author: Tiana

Reviews: Yes and please and thank you.

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Spike, Buffy or any other BTVS characters. But if anyone's offering, I'll take Spike.

Summary: Set in the middle of Season 6, around Dead Things. Buffy's POV. None of the bad things of the end of the season have happened. Buffy and Spike - can they be together? Does he need a soul to love her? B/S all the way, baby.
 

1. Patrol

Sunnydale Cemetery, 10:15 p.m.

I can't stand it. I really can't. Why do I want something, someone I just shouldn't have? Want is not a strong enough word... I crave, desire, need. When he saunters up to me and cocks that eyebrow, I experience a feeling that no one has found a name for. It consumes me. He is everything I shouldn't have and everything I can't live without tied up in a delectable leather-wrapped package. So, naturally, I punch him.

"OW! Bloody hell, woman! I didn't even say anything to you!" Spike lost all his swagger as he checked his nose for damage.

"Well, you were thinking something! And it was wrong! I TOLD you ...it can't happen again." My certainty wavered by the end there, but maybe he didn't notice.

"What's that, luv?" Reassured that I didn't break his nose, the glint is back in his eye. He did notice.

"You know what, and you're not dragging me into this conversation again. We are done. Can we just get back to patrolling?"

"Fine, luv. I don't know what you're talking about, but I'll drop it. Let's see if we can dust some more of my old friends and family to make the evening extra special." Sarcasm. There's a shocker from the mouth of Spike.

The rest of the evening passed without too much incident. A couple more vamps made the mistake of crossing our paths, but all in all, a pretty quiet evening. Now, the part that makes me weak. Saying good night. As we finish our lap of the last cemetery near my house, I turn to Spike. Better do it quick and above all, avoid eye contact. I duck my head, letting my hair slide and cover my face a bit. "Alright, then. That should do it. Good night, Spike." I turn towards home, attempting a quick getaway.

I fail.

"Hey now, Slayer. What's the rush? The night is young and so are we... well, you are, anyway. Surely we can find some more fun ?"

I pause, but I don't turn around. It's not a good idea to make eye contact, Buffy. I'm chanting it to myself, no eye contact, no eye contact. " We're not having any more of that kind of fun, Spike." My voice is quiet, restrained. I hope he can't hear how my breath is catching in my throat.

"Never said anything of the kind, now did I? Guess your mind is the one wandering down that path, eh?" He's smirking, I just know it. I can hear it in his voice. "I was thinking of some pool down at the Bronze. Or maybe darts, luv. They just put up the boards and you're awfully good with pointy things."

"Spike..."

"Slay... Buffy. Can you turn and look at me, luv?" Damn him. Just when I am thinking I can write him off as sleazy, he turns all Prince Charming again. I turn a little, look at him out of the corner of my eye. Maybe that doesn't count as eye contact...

"Just come with me to the Bronze for a little while." He stops, looks down for a minute, his brow creases, and then his eyes are back on me. Oh man, there it is. Eye contact.

Huge sigh. I crack under the power of those baby blues. "Okay. But no funny stuff, I mean it, Spike." I start to walk off quickly, forcing him to trail behind me "I AM awfully good with pointy things..." My voice pitches higher. "...and if you don't stop looking at my ass, you will find yourself on the business end of one!"

"WHA...! Alright, fine..." He runs to catch up with me, probably wondering how I knew what he was doing. It's because I know him, know him very well.... and it's exactly what I would have done in the same situation.

2. Pointy things

The Bronze, 11:30 p.m.

"Something to drink, Slayer? I'm gettin' a beer." I give him a look. He knows I can't hold my booze. And let's not forget, beer bad.

"Just a Coke. Uh.. thanks." It always throws me when he's nice. He acts like just a regular guy instead of the vampire I know him to be. I just shake my head. Stay strong, Buffy. Evil. Soulless. Thing. He is not the man for you. Hell, he's not even a man. Get a grip! And stop talking to yourself! He's back!

"Your Coke, luv." He hands it to me, gently brushing my fingers as he does. I wonder if he did that on purpose just to see me quiver the tiniest bit. The look on his face confirms that he did. " I got us the first lane over here seeing as it is your first time... playing darts, I mean. That way any stray darts have less risk of injuring an innocent bystander."

"Ha Ha, Spike. Do you really think I will miss that big board? I've been throwing knives since I was 15, I think I can handle darts. Now... move out of the way. " I grab a hold of the tip of the dart, and wind up, preparing to throw it just like a knife.

"No no, pet, you're scaring the locals." People did seem to be backing away a little bit. "This way...." He takes my hand, releases the dart and rotates it so I've got my first two fingers and thumb on the shaft just below the flights. I'm so distracted by his cool touch on my suddenly hot little hands, that I don't realize he is now behind me, his chest lightly pressed against my back as he reaches around. He's got his hand around my hand on the dart. "You hold onto the shaft very lightly, don't grab it. Just lightly hold it with the tips of your fingers.." He's moving my fingers and I think I'm starting to get dizzy from the proximity. Did he just say shaft? Mind! Out of the gutter! " Now look down the shaft and line it up with where you are shooting. That would be the bulls eye, luv."

I swallow hard and whisper ,"Yeah, I figured that." Where is all my tough talk now? I'm just putty in his hands. His firm cool hands that are all over my.... what is he saying?

"...release and then follow through with your arm. And there you have it. Darts 101." Whoops, I missed the middle part of my lesson. I peek at the guys in the next lane, deciding to copy them and try to fake it. Slayer skills should help me somehow, right?

"Right, right. Okay." He can totally tell I wasn't listening. Why does he have to know me so well?

"Here, I'll guide your first throw. Just relax." RELAX? He's standing directly behind me, one hand wrapped around mine and one... where is the other one? On my HIP! And I'm going to relax? I have to act like he is not having any effect on me. Deep breaths, slow the heart rate. Try not to fall into that thick leather smell, that oh-so-Spike way of smelling like the night air, cool and crisp and a bit dangerous. Just makes me want to breathe him in. But first, relax. "Slayer! Hello, slayer strength a bit of a problem here. Relax!" I was clutching the dart so tightly my fingertips were white. I let up. "There we go, now bend at the elbow and throw..." He guides my arm in a fluid motion and the dart ends up just outside the bulls eye. I'm following through like he said, so my left arm is now pointing towards the dart board and his arm is stretched the length of it, hand still on my hand. I don't think I can move. He slowly bends my arm back with his and turns me toward him, still holding my left hand. His eyes are the deep blue of the night sky. "Not bad, luv. Not bad at all..." he says it low and syrupy, nearly purring. I don't know if he means the throw or something else entirely, and I'm not going to ask. I quickly pull my hand out of his and take two steps back. I back into the tall table with our drinks and nearly topple it. Trying to recover, I turn and grab my Coke. The glass is sweating from the heat in the bar, little drops of moisture running down the sides. I feel the same way. He's still looking at me when I bring the glass to my lips and slowly sip. I'm watching him over the rim, trying desperately to break eye contact, but failing miserably. Finally, mercifully, he looks away, saving me. Then he moves closer, reaching past me to get his beer. "Shall we play, then?"

Oh yes....

3. Bulls eye

The Bronze, 12:45 a.m.

I'm laughing hysterically. I didn't remember Spike being this funny before. Of course, this could all go back to the fact that my Cokes became rums and Coke awhile back. I'm not drunk though. I'm just giddy. I'm finally starting to forget my worries. Just for tonight. Willow is home with Dawn and I'm out with my man... my mortal enemy! Mortal enemy! He is not my man. He was my plaything, my toy and it was wrong wrong wrong. I wish he would stop staring at me. Maybe it's because I'm just laughing and having my own internal conversations. "What are you lookin' at, mister?"

"I would tell if it wouldn't get me staked, luv. I prefer to un-live a bit longer yet..."

"Awright, Spike, I'll give you one Get Out of Staking Free card. Tell me what is on your mind."

"That's a loaded question, Slayer. How 'bout I take the card and redeem it a later date, when I really need it?"

"Well, okay, if that's the way you want to do it... Now where were we... I remember, I was kicking your undead British ass at darts! I thought this was some kind of English sporty thing. Why am I so much better at it than you, old chap?" I know what I am doing and I just don't care. I like getting him riled up.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that and just let my darts do the talking, eh luv?" He locks his eyes on mine as he throws at the board. Bulls eye. We're playing Cricket, one throw per turn, and all he needs now is a 20. I need a double bulls eye to win. I step up to the line. I've just got to win. Slayer pride and girl power and all that stuff. I squint down the dart, lining up the bulls eye. I pull my arm back and just as I release, I feel a hand lightly pinch my ass. The dart swerves and I miss the bull completely, landing three inches to the right. "Oi! Luv, that guy just grabbed your arse. Want me to go after him?"

I spin around and don't see anyone but him behind me. I close my eyes to a sliver and grind out, "Your turn." I know he did it and I could bitch him out, but I'm not giving him the satisfaction. We'll see how well he throws with a distraction named Buffy at his side. With practised ease, Spike spins the dart in his hand and then lines up his shot. I wait for his arm to start moving forward. I stand on my tiptoes and suck his earlobe between my lips for a split second. His reaction is immediate and the dart ends up stuck into the wall above the board. "Bloody hell!" He turns on his heel to give mea lashing and I'm standing there sipping my drink.

"Oh, is it my turn, now? Bad luck, that... I'll get a different dart since that one is too high for me to reach..." I grab a dart, set my drink down and move to the line. " Spike?"

"Yeah?" He's still stuck somewhere between mad and completely aroused by my recent actions.

"Wanna place a wager on this game? I win, I pick the prize. You win, you pick..."

"Pick anything?"

I turn to look at him. I am truly out of my mind tonight, but it really feels damn good. "Anything."

"Abso-bloody-lutely, Slayer." I know he is really hoping I'll miss now. He naturally assumes his choice will be more to his liking. Little does he know what I've got in mind... I've got to stop kidding myself. He's not my man. Ha. Tonight, he is whatever I want him to be. I turn and focus on the board, aiming ever so carefully. I give him a warning look over my shoulder. He shows me his hands, proving they are nowhere near my ass. I turn back to the board and close my eyes. When I open them, I am completely focused and I throw. Double bull.

"Oh, bloody hell. Guess the party's over."

I slam the rest of my drink and take his hand, dragging him towards the back door. "Guess again."

4. All Wrong

Alley behind the Bronze, 12:55 a.m.

I drag Spike through the back door and without a word, slam him against the brick wall in the alley. He is startled to say the least. I've got one hand on his chest, holding him at arm's length as I make eye contact that is turning my insides to jelly. "Buffy?" I think I'm scaring him a little.

Good.

"Look, Spike. Like I've said before, this is all wrong between us. I can't love you, I just can't. And believe it or not, I don't want to hurt you. But I do feel something. Something visceral, something deep. It draws me to you..." My eyes break from his and light briefly on his lips. Back to the eyes. "..and if I wasn't a little tipsy right now, I wouldn't be telling you any of this. My life is screwed up as it is without admitting that I can't get you out of my head. Out of my heart." His eyes are softening as my grip on his shirt loosens a bit. " I feel tears welling up in my eyes without permission. "And I'll admit it, since I seem to be spilling my guts all over this filthy alley. I want to surrender to you. I want to." I take a deep breath. He opens his mouth, hoping to get a word in. "No, don't interrupt. If I stop talking, I won't start again. " His mouth clamps shut again. He's never heard me reveal this much before. " I would give you my body." A small smirk plays with his luscious mouth. " I would give you my heart." My breathing is rapid and he is unsure what to do, I can tell. " But I cannot give you my soul . We match in everything but that and the rest don't mean a thing without it." He closes his eyes and leans his head back on the alley wall. "Spike, I'm sorry. I don't know how to express how sorry I truly am." I'm silent for a second.

"But the fact of the matter is, I won our bet. And I intend to collect on it." His eyes slowly open and I see they are wet. I start to lean towards him, pulling him in by his shirt. I smile ever so slightly. "Can we just enjoy tonight? Make it last forever, so I don't have to decide what to do in the morning? So I don't have to turn away from what I feel?" I press my lips together for a second and look into his eyes as I get closer still. I slide my lids closed and gently touch my moist lips to his. Stars explode behind my eyes. At first, he doesn't move. I know he doesn't know what to feel about what I've said. I exert a little more pressure on his lips and he gives way. His hands come up from his sides and clutch my hips, pulling me tight against him. The kiss deepens as our tongues dance together. I let go of his shirt and rest both my hands, possessively, on his chest. I want him more than ever, even though I've just broken his non-beating heart. I feel like such a bitch, but he's got no soul. Can a vampire really change without a soul? Maybe some, but enough? He still treads the dark side, and while I dance there myself, it can't be my whole world. I need more. Enough! Stop with the analyzing, Buffy. Kiss him. We keep kissing til I'm sure my lips are bruised. I pull away and look at him. "Let's get out of here." He nods wordlessly. I pull him down the alley towards the street. We walk about two blocks in silence before he takes an unneeded breath and opens his mouth. His mouth is set tightly.

"Slaye... um... Buffy?"

"Yeah."

"I love you."

"I know."

"Good. I'm leaving town tomorrow."

I stop so suddenly, he gets a step or two ahead of me. "What do you mean? Where are you going? When will you get back?" I catch up and turn him towards me.

" I mean, I'm packing it in. I can't be around you and love you like this anymore. I don't know where I'm going and I don't know when I'll be back. Or if I'll come back. If I wasn't already dead, I would say you were killing me. I've offered you everything I've got and it is not enough. I can tell it hurts you too and I swore to myself I would never hurt you. It will be better for both of us this way." He starts to walk again, his shoulders are tight and I sense his mind is made up. We walk for awhile in silence again and I trail slightly behind him, watching him walk. He lopes like a wolf, but still, I sense his feeling of defeat. His head hangs a little lower. We arrive in front of his crypt. I step in front of him, back to the front door. I can tell he expected me to head for home.

"Spike... I don't want you to leave. I really don't. But I can't tell you what to do. I can't give you what you want no matter how much love you feel." My heart aches with these words. We were having such fun earlier.. and now all this pain. "Make love to me tonight. " He stops studying his feet and snaps his head up to meet my eyes. I'm smiling weakly at him. "Make me feel what you feel."

5. Slow Motion

Spike's crypt, 1:15 a.m.

He reaches past me to open the door to the crypt. I step backwards into it, leading him into the dim room. A few candles are lit, near to burning out. He comes in, closes the door behind him. And he just looks at me, raking me with his dark eyes. I can just barely see his face in this light, the angular cheekbones casting shadows on his cheeks. His hair catches the flickering light. There is something very solemn about him... the way he looks at me, the way he moves. Neither one of us makes any sudden movements, afraid to break this quiet spell. The looseness brought on by drinking is gone. Our moves are taut and intentional. He moves around behind me and gently pulls my suede jacket, grasping the lapels and peeling it back. I feel it smoothly slide down my arms and off. I hear his duster drop to the floor with a dull thud. He leans in and brushing my hair aside, lightly kisses the back of my neck. I feel it all the way down my spine. He breathes in my ear, "Come with me. Downstairs." I feel hypnotized. I nod and let him lead me away from the door.

Spike slips down the ladder to the lower part of the crypt. I start to descend slowly. It's very dark, which doesn't seem to affect him the way it does me. As I am reaching the last few rungs, I feel him around me. His hands are on the ladder, surrounding me as I reach the ground. I turn slowly inside the circle of his taut arms and try to look up at his eyes. There are a few candles sputtering down here, too, but it's so dark. The flames flicker a little bit and I catch a brief glimpse of his eyes. I see so much emotion there... pain and love and some other indefinable thing. It shakes me to see it. He is mere inches from me, I can feel his breathing on my face. The breathing he doesn't need to do, but seems to be too strong a habit to break. He leans toward me so slowly I'm not sure he's moving til his cool lips meet mine. I blink several times, and then melt into his mouth. Just as I start to respond, he pulls away. I nearly moan out loud, my eyes still closed as I feel the proximity of him disappear. Everything I said to him earlier is out of my head. I just want him tonight. The rest of the world can keep spinning, but we are separate from it down here. Time is ours to toy with. I finally open my eyes. He is across the crypt, lighting new candles. He does it slowly, moving from area to area, until there is a soft golden glow throughout the crypt. The warmth of it makes him look alive. Spike takes the match from the last one and brings it to his mouth, pursing his lips to blow it out. He looks at me again, and I feel it like a physical force. His look is solid and pulsing. I start taking steps towards him, not really aware of my legs, just my need to be closer to him. Now.

"Buffy." He just breathes my name out. And in it he speaks volumes. He loves me, he needs me, he wants me, he misses me already. He is in pain. I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to get the pain out before it drowns me. I close the gap between us quickly now, putting my hands on the sides of his face, and pulling him to me. We kiss. Soft, then harder, more frantic. The strength of a Slayer and the force of a vampire battling it out with our tongues. I want to bite him, devour him, lick him head to toe. I just can't get enough. His hands are running down my back. I shiver at their cool touch on my steaming hot skin. He pulls away a little and I think he is leaving, it's too much. But no, it's not that. His hands have found the ties that are holding my top on. He slowly pulls the one on my lower back. I shiver as his cool hands trail across my spine. He takes one of the next ones in his left hand and the next in his right. Pull. All the while, he is planting small kisses on my lips. He reaches under my hair at my neck with both hands and pulls the last tie, painfully slow. The bow comes undone and he brings the ends around front and down, pulling the scrap of black fabric down my now completely exposed torso. Goosebumps run up my arms and down my back, making my breasts tight. His fingertips graze the nipples and I feel myself getting wet. He is worshiping me with his hands and his eyes. The frantic feeling we shared minutes earlier has faded again. Our world is revolving in slow motion and he and I both are going to savor every last bloody second of it.

He puts one arm around my back and starts to pull me towards him. I fight back a little bit, stopping him with my eyes. It's my turn. I reach for the top button that is done on his slate blue button-down. I undo it carefully. I kiss the hollow in his neck that is now more fully exposed. He moans in his throat very quietly. Next button, another kiss. Lightly blowing on the wetness, causing him to twitch and grab onto my shoulders. One more button, and I can get my hands inside his shirt. I run up his chest, using my nails ever so lightly. And then my hands slide back down. Pop pop. The last two buttons are removed suddenly and I fling his shirt open. My hands come to rest on his tightly carved abs as I look up at him, a slightly devilish smirk on my face and in my eyes.

6. Slower motion

Spike's crypt, downstairs 1:30 a.m.

Spike smiles very slightly back at me. Takes both my hands in his, lifting them up to his mouth one at a time, kissing the back of each gently. He flips the left hand and kisses the palm, places it around his neck. Then, he repeats this gentle act with the other. My fingers lace into each other on the back of his neck. The cool skin there can do little to quell the heat issuing from me in waves at this point. Spike grabs me around the waist and lifts. My legs wrap around his waist and I can't keep my lips off his any longer. With the balance and grace of a night predator, he backs steadily towards the bed, never losing his grip on me or my hungry mouth. He stops just short of the bed and I unwrap my legs from his waist and stand in front of him. I feel his hands slip from my waist to the front of my suede pants. His hands run from my skin to the smooth brown fabric hugging my hips. I feel him doing things down there somewhere in the distance. A voice in the back of my head reports his actions, but I barely hear it. I am too busy with the kissing. Dear God, I don't remember him being quite this good a kisser before. If I had a religion to swear off of, I would, just to spend endless hours kissing this devil. But there is more in store than kissing. The voice is telling me this as I feel my pants start to shimmy down my hips like I'm shedding my second skin.

OH, the kissing stopped.

I open my eyes and my mouth to protest, but Spike is not there. I look down and see the top of his blond head. He's kneeling down, pulling my boots off. Rolling my socks down my feet. I'm lifting my feet to help him, the voice in my head reports. I wouldn't know, I'm still thinking about the kisses. My body cooperates without my brain's permission. He tenderly pulls the pants all the way off and I'm standing there bare except for my black panties. I feel Spike's hands on my ankles and then a wet kiss somewhere below my knees. The feel of his palms slowly sliding up my legs and his kisses that follow the trail upwards is almost more than I can stand. In fact, it is literally more than I can stand. In the course of him ravishing me, I've ended up with my back to the foot of the bed. I collapse onto the bed in slow motion, I feel like I'm melting ever so slightly around the edges. I notice the crisp fabric of his coverlet and randomly wonder at the fact that he's washed it recently... for me? I smell fresh flowers from a detergent bottle and I can't help but smile. The smile spreads across my face and I slowly open my lust-filled eyes halfway. He is standing at the end of the bed, watching me wriggle on his bed. His hands are on his belt, pulling it back to undo it. I sit up and scoot up to him on my knees. I break the silence.

"Let me do that." I whisper, stilling his hands. For some reason, it is imperative to me at that moment that he knows how badly I want him. I usually hide this information from him as long and as well as I can, never giving him that power over me. Just like everything else since I walked in his crypt tonight, I'm doing this different. I take one end of the belt and pull it out of his pants, enjoying the way I slightly jostle his waist as the belt slips around his jeans and off. I put the belt down next to me on the bed, wondering if I might want it later. I reach for the button on his jeans with both hands. I push my fingers down inside his waistband as I work the button. He inhales sharply at this contact so near his obviously swollen erection and throws his head back. I undo the button and pull the zipper down an inch or so... and stop. He flings his head down to look at me and I point to his feet. Boots. From my perch on the bed, I watch him unlace the boots and throw them away with his socks. Better. He stands back up and I think of something I saw on TV once. What the hell... I lean in towards his pants and grab a hold of the zipper with my teeth. The metal sound rasps louder than ever as I know Spike is holding his non-existent breath, taking in the show. My hands are around his hips on his ass. This has not escaped his attention either. As I get the zipper down near the bottom, I hook my hands around his waistband in the back and tug. The leather squeaks a little, it is cool like his skin under my hands. I release the zipper and push his pants down as far as I can. The proximity of my mouth and my hair just brushing against his cock finally crack his veneer. He pushes me back on the bed suddenly, crawling the rest of the way out of his pants as he drags me up the bed with him. He is completely naked now. I'd long since learned he didn't bother wearing anything under those tight pants. I want my hands on every part of him at once. His skin is like carved stone, but more supple. I trace the lines and edges of his muscles, amazed again at the spareness of him. There is nothing wasted, nothing extra. He is finely toned at every turn. Perfect.

7. Mapping

Spike's bed, 1:50 a.m.

Spike meets my eyes briefly as he pulls me onto the soft pillows at the head of the bed. In that passing, second, as the candles on the bedside table cast a warm glow on his features, I see a look in his eyes that makes me nearly weep. A look so vulnerable, so wide open. I didn't know he was capable of it. Then, the lust that is warming him from the inside out takes back over and darkens them to midnight. He kisses me on the lips once and I want him to stay forever. Instead, he slides down a little, kisses underneath my chin and then the hollow of my neck. He traces my right collarbone with the tip of his tongue. I shiver. He hasn't even touched me anywhere else and yet I feel like I'm drowning in my own moisture. He knows it too. I see him smile. I feel myself smile in response, though he does not see it. The hands he had placed on my shoulders are sliding down my arms. He moves down with them, kissing the inside of one elbow and then the next. I have never had a man document his love for every square inch of me like this man. Man? I shake my head slightly at my slip. He's not a man, but ohhhhh... In my distraction, he's shifted over to my breasts. Spike lightly kisses the place between them. Then he takes the right in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it like a piece of candy. His left hand is cupping the other breast, lightly brushing that nipple to attention. I realize suddenly that I've stopped moving. Not even sure I'm breathing. I'm afraid if I touch him, he will stop. Break the spell. And I don't want him to stop. I've got my hands tangled in my own hair stretched above my head and my eyes are glazed over a bit, alternately looking at the ceiling in supplication and watching the top of his blond head and strong hands map me. I hear a moan and it takes a second to realize it was me. Spike knows though. He lifts his head from the right nipple and blows a bit of cool air on it right as he pinches the left. The moan escalates dramatically as goosebumps run screaming over the expanse of my exposed skin. "Too much, luv?"

Ohhhhhh... wait, he's talking to me. I breathe out "No... no... not too much. " My voice drops an octave.. "Just right." I'm starting to itch inside my skin. The slow worship is taking its toll on me. I want it to last and last... and I want to feel him in me this second. He does not ask my preference and I am at his mercy. And to my shock, I like it. It's almost like... I trust him. But that can't be it. I don't trust Spike..... do I? Back to that thought later, he is on the move again. His tongue is tracing the line from between my breasts to my belly button, pausing for kisses to mark the route. I start to tense up as I know the destination of this road. Of course, I knew it all along, but now the anticipation is getting painful. His smooth hands are tracing the curve of my body, leaving my breasts, in at the waist, back out at the hips. His thumbs press in at my hip bone as his mouth reaches the blond curls at my apex. My legs are so numb I don't even realize he's spread them, the width of his body slowly forcing them apart as he slid down. He's still moving and I have definitely stopped breathing. This night is nothing like the others. No frantic desperation, no quelling of sorrow in a frantic tussle in the bed. Just this.. this memorization. Before he leaves. Oh god, he's leaving. Oh GOD! His tongue has found my clit. Just visiting, though. He lightly licks it, just making it swell a bit more. Then he runs his tongue down my lips and back up the other side. And then that cool heaven darts inside. I hear a low wail, a groan somewhere outside me, but again, it turns out to be me. My body is shimmying side to side, trying to alternately escape and aid this attack on my arousal. He just keeps it up, relentless. The same pattern over and over, til tears are squeezing out of my tightly shut eyes. I'm definitely breathing now, breathing so hard I threaten to burst. Rapid, short breaths as I try to regain my balance, my sanity. As my noises bounce off the walls of the crypt, I realize Spike is so so quiet. I've never been around him when he's been like this. I worry despite myself and my writhing pleasure. I'm also not sure how much longer I can take this... oh god, not much longer. I feel the low ripples in my pelvis begin. I pant harder and then I hold completely still for just a split second, willing it to happen. Spike can sense the orgasm coming and he shows not one lick of mercy, literally. He dedicates himself to the clit, knowing its sensitivity is sky-rocketing. The repeated pressure there forces a scream from me as the waves crash. HARD. This is no localized orgasm, this is head to toe, fingertips to my knees and beyond. The voice in my head reports I am not just screaming in an unintelligible manner as I've done in past encounters.

I am screaming his name.

8. Tears

My heart is pounding as I realize what I was doing. Talk about revealing yourself. I was just screaming Spike at the top of my lungs. It's not like he wouldn't notice. I'm starting to regain feeling in my legs now and becoming aware of Spike's location. After I regained my stillness, he moved up a little and his blond head is lying below my breasts, looking off into the darkness. I swear I feel moisture on my stomach. Is he crying? No... he couldn't be. I've never seen Spike cry in my life. I've seen him come close, but never let the floodgates open. I wonder if he cried when I died? I never thought to ask. Too wrapped up in my own problems with the clawing my way out of the grave, ripped from Heaven and so on. But right now I am sure of it. He's shaking ever so slightly. I feel this chasm open in my chest. _I've_ caused this? It's my fault? I still feel all wiggly and satisfied and he's drowning. It can't go like this. "Spike?" No response. "Spike... please."

I can't tell if he didn't hear me the first time or just was trying to compose himself. Finally, a muffled voice. "Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

I forget how fast he can move. He saves his vampiric skills for fights most of the time. Before I can blink, his mouth is on mine. I taste salt on his lips and my fears are confirmed. I grasp his hair in my hands to keep him there. I kiss him soundly, roughly, gently, savagely, tenderly, trying to erase the memory of those gentle sobs from this supposedly evil thing. His tears are drying as I feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against me. I release my clutch on him ever so slightly, pulling our lips apart so I can meet his eyes. They are nearly black and until that moment I had no idea how much he is controlling himself. He wants me so badly, but he is waiting for my approval. "Spike, be in me. Be in me now."

Again, with the lightning fast reflexes, I am stretched fully by his thrust and one of those moans rolls off my tongue and right into his mouth as he kisses me again. He does not move for what seems like years. It's as if the very act of being inside me, with me, is what he craved all along. His welcome into my being is like a climax. I think he puts me on too high a pedestal, I fear the height from which I can fall. God, it never occurred to me that this was something I feared. I fear disappointing Spike?! I've always been so derisive of him, made him feel so unworthy. But in some ways, it is the way he makes me feel so worthy that scares me. I could disappoint him and this love that burns would burn itself right out. And I must admit.... whoa.

He's started to move and it is rocking my world. I'm so wet and swollen from his previous actions and my nerve endings are still on fire. It burns and thrills all at once. His slow, methodical thrusts, almost all the way out and then back in suddenly. I feel my body jerk each time on impact, as if he is trying to plant his lust, his passion, his love so deep inside me it can't get out. Hide it away so the world can't kill it with questions. I wrap my legs around his back as high as I can, deepening his access to my very core. I unconsciously closed my eyes when he started to thrust, trying to lock the sensation in by eliminating other distractions. But then I realize there is one "distraction" I don't want to miss. Right as Spike is going to thrust back into me, I open my eyes and find his eyes locked on mine. I feel a hitch in his movement, almost surprise. He is used to watching my face during sex while I look away or close my eyes, not getting an invitation into my feelings through my eyes. His eyebrows knit together briefly as he looks at me. I am confusing him endlessly, something I seem to excel at. Maybe it's because I am so good at confusing myself. His eyes were so tender, I caught him unaware and saw the raw emotion there. I may have been wrong before about his not being able to love. I just don't know. I do know that I am starting to have trouble thinking straight. His rhythm is accelerating. My eyes are urging him on and I start to moan and step up my breathing. I let go of his hair and reach back with both hands to grab onto the headboard. I hear a slow, low sound from his mouth. Finally, after all this silence. I hold my breath to hear him and realize it is my name. Not slayer, not luv, not pet... Buffy. He murmurs my name between breaths, like a chant, like a spell. Over and over again. He's driving me around the bend, over the edge with my own name.

9. Anti-climax

Spike is getting louder and louder with my name. As he comes closer and closer to climax, I realize something is changing. His voice is becoming more ragged and those eyes I am locked into are swimming in front of me. I think he is starting to cry again, but I then feel the strange sensation of moisture dripping out the sides of my eyes, running down into my hair. It's me. I'm weeping. Spike's eyes re-focus on me sharply and I can see he is afraid he's hurting me. I see that he will stop immediately if so. His eyes question me and his mouth opens slightly as he breaks the litany of my name. I shake my head and smile weakly at him. I've lost my voice suddenly, and so I simply mouth to him "Keep going." He crosses the inches between us to kiss my left temple and then my right. Tasting my tears. He thrusts with renewed vigor and every entrance forces a cry from my lips. I am offering my own voice to the heavens to mix with his. His voice, which has roughened like sandpaper. Just as I feel the moment building to its point, Spike reaches down between us and presses on my clit. The heavens explode above me and I cry out as he roars his arrival. I feel the cool sensation of him coming inside me and I'm sure there is steam coming off us from the chemical reaction. I'm mewling like a kitten as he collapses slowly on top of me, his body losing all coordination in its pleasure. I swear I hear sizzling as his chilled skin kisses against mine, cooling the length of me just as I was sure to combust.

It was never like this before. Thoughts are swimming in my head as I stumble towards unconsciousness. It was feral and wild and it made me pant like an animal, but it never made me cry. His love burned into me with such power that it pressed tears from my eyes. Those eyes that have now slipped closed. He loves me. All the times he said it before and I never once believed it. Never once allowed myself to be loved. I lazily rub his back, not even sure if he is still with me. He may have blacked out already. His breathing has stilled - a sure sign he is sleeping. I kiss his cheekbone, lightly lick his earlobe. Whisper with my last act of consciousness: "I love you too..." I can tell him again in the morning....

Spike's bed, pre-dawn.

I roll to one side and my arm reaches out for him. And reaches... all I feel is something sharp-edged... paper? I feel my heart skip and catch in my throat. I'm afraid to open my eyes as the whole evening rushes back over me. The heartbreaking things I said to him, the way he looked at me when he told me was leaving, our mutual worship of each other's bodies, the mind-shattering climaxes, slipping off to sleep with love in my heart and my love resting on my chest. I'm sick as his words run through my head at breakneck pace. *packing it in.... love you like this anymore... don't know where I'm going ..don't know when I'll be back... killing me... swore to myself I would never hurt you...*

I am suddenly nauseous. I was so wrong about him. So wrong. I know with stomach-twisting certainty that he is gone. When I open my eyes it will be true. I fight it. My fingers are clutching the paper I find. It is firm... an envelope. I sit up in the bed and confirm what I already knew. Looking around, I see he is not here. I don't even have to call his name. I feel his absence. I look down at the envelope in my hand and realize I've never seen Spike's handwriting. It's beautiful. I'm sure he thought that would be very inappropriate - that the Big Bad would have perfect penmanship. I laugh in spite of myself, hearing him deny it in my head. The laugh is hollow though. It says "Buffy" across it in dark black ink. I flip the envelope over and study the back. It is sealed with a red wax seal... a W in the middle. I am struck by this. He kept this stamp from his days as William? Why am I learning all these things about him after his disappearance?

This time the laugh is cynical and sharp. The voice in my head has become much less friendly. Because, Buffy, you didn't want to learn those things beforehand. They would have made him seem human to you. He was easier to fight off as long as you kept him evil. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a red candle on the bedside table, partially melted and lying on its side. It strikes me that he wrote this letter while I was sleeping. Right here next to me. My hand goes to my forehead as I am suddenly convinced beyond a doubt he kissed me goodbye there. I see him leaving the letter and pressing those soft lips to my brow, though I was sound asleep when it happened. I have to know what the letter contains, but I'm so afraid I'm shivering. I take a deep breath, shuddering a bit, and slide my fingers under the flap of the envelope.

10. The Letter

My hands are trembling as I break the seal on the letter. I gingerly pull the sheets of parchment paper out of the envelope. I lay the envelope aside on the pillow where I found it and unfold the pages in my hands.

"Buffy,

I couldn't leave without saying goodbye, luv. At the same time, I couldn't bear waking you. I was afraid one look into your eyes and I would lose my nerve. It kills me to walk out the door with your heavenly body tangled in my sheets, your golden hair spread on my pillow. It's like I dreamed it. But as you told me, you don't love me. You can't love me. You can't love THIS me. I know you have affection for me. I saw it in your eyes last night, Slayer. For a brief shining moment I thought it was love. But I cannot fool myself. Not anymore.

Indulge me, pet. My mind has wandered into the past while I write, sitting inches from you, listening to your gentle breaths. Let me tell you a few of the things I've never had the nerve to say.

I think I loved you from the day I met you. That night I saw you dance. No, not in the Bronze, out in the alley against that vamp. Didn't even need music. Kill you, yeah, I wanted to kill you then. Didn't mean I didn't like you. Lucky your mum showed up with that axe the first time I got a chance at your soft throat.

Dru knew it. I fought it. I never told you why she finally left me. She could smell the humanity on me. I loved a human, whether I knew it or not. She said the Slayer was all around me, covering me. Dru may be a complete loon, but she always had the sight. Rather than run to the bloody ends of the Earth to burn the humanity out of me, I went straight back to the scene of the crime. Sunnydale.

You know a lot of the rest, pet. I won't bore you with history lessons. When I first realized I loved you, I fought it with every evil ounce of my body. Love the Slayer? Bloody hell. Waking to the love I felt for you was difficult to say the least. You started to trust me that year, though I didn't know why. I tried to earn that trust, but still never expected it. But that's you. You're special. And when I let you down in the end... well, that was the lowest point of my existence. If I could have died over and over just to keep you from dying, I would have. I would have greeted the sunrise every day for a century just to have your light stay in this world. I cried and cried. Don't tell anyone, though they did see me break down when we saw your body. With every bone in my body broken from the fall, I cried for you, luv. I cried for me. Like I told you, I saved you every night after that. In my head. I was faster, more clever, stronger , and in the end you were there. Alive and in my arms.

Little did I know or even think that one day you would truly be in my arms. You know the Scoobies never told me 'bout the plan to bring you back, right? Saved their necks every other night for that whole summer and they didn't trust me one bit. All of 'em knew that I would rather see you stay dead than come back wrong. Or suffer again. Probably the first selfless feeling I ever had. But you came back. My heart burned that night. Now that you were back, you would know I was a failure. And yet, you never reproached me. Never told me I should have been faster, more clever or stronger. How could I not love you?

Believe it or not, I want love. Not just shagging and fighting and your grudging participation in both of them. I just... well, you deserve to be with a man you can love. You deserve better. I've told you before, not very well, but I have tried. You are better than the dark life I tried to drag you down into. I thought if I could just contain, maybe dim the blazing light that is your soul, you wouldn't miss mine. One of many of my bloody brilliant plans that didn't work. What right did I have to try and snuff that light? My bleedin' right as a creature of darkness? I thank my stars every night that I was a fool. A fool to think your light could be swallowed up by my darkness. I was all wrong in my thinking. Better that I should step out of the dark. But how?

No one has made me feel like a man in over 100 years... hell, not ever. I was a bloody ponce in life. But you, you make me feel it. When I've got your golden skin against mine, I want to live. I haven't wanted to live... well, again, not ever. I thought I was so bloody happy as a dead thing for a century. I killed, I drank, I rampaged over half the world. And it was all rot. Bloody rot. Why would you love this thing? A killer. It's what I am. Or was... Maybe I can be more than what I am, though. It is this belief that takes me out of your warm embrace on this cold morning, pet. I'm leaving to become more. To become something... someone you can love. Someone you deserve. So, I'll admit I shaded the truth to you earlier.

I will be back, Buffy.

Take care of yourself and the Bit.

My love,

Spike "

11. Home again

Spike's bed, morning

I wake from my disheartened sleep with puffy eyes and tangled hair. I know he's gone. It's the first thought in my head. My resolve is desperately trying to kick in. His departure is like another death, another loved one gone. I've been through this pain before. Come on, Buffy. You're the Chosen One. Get the fuck up and get dressed. My right hand still grips the letter he left me. I gently lay it out, smoothing the wrinkles and folding it back up. I tuck it back into the envelope and turn it back over, lying it in front of me on the bed. I stare at it for a few seconds before I get up and start looking for my clothes.

As I rummage around on the floor, I start to notice a few of Spike's things are missing. Drawers hang open on the ratty dresser he found... clothes hanging out. The spot on the table where he leaves his lighter and cigarettes is empty. A black bag he kept weapons in is gone, but most of the weapons lay strewn on the floor. Guess he had to pack in something. I realize how well I know his place. Despite the disgust with him and his lifestyle I threw in his face at every turn, I know this dark, dusty place like the back of my hand. Or rather, I knew the man who dwelt here. The clothes he wore last night are gone from the floor. And wait, so is my shirt... I smile despite myself. Just like Spike. I can see him now with that little scrap of fabric tucked in his back pocket. The smile fades as the reality of the moment comes back to me. I find a black button-up shirt in his drawer and put it on. I bring the sleeve to my nose and inhale. There it is, his scent. Leather and copper, dark and crisp.

I stand at the foot of the bed, staring at the site of our lovemaking. And that is what it was... lovemaking. I feel my eyes burn again. I snatch the letter from the bed and tuck it into my waistband. I scramble up the ladder and find my coat by the door. To my shock, his duster lies there next to it. I pick it up and lie it gingerly across his chair. It is the most encouraging sign yet that he will actually return. I slam the door behind me and run from the scene as fast as I can, trying to dry the tears on my face with the wind.

I slow as I reach the house, hoping hoping hoping I can get in the house and up to my bedroom before Dawn wakes up. Last thing I need is for her to see that I've been out all night... and crying. I start to head for the front door and think better of it. I look at the tree in the yard. One I always think of as "the tree Spike lurks behind." My Slayer strength kicks in as I shimmy up it and scramble up the porch roof to my window. It creaks a bit as I open it, but I think I'm home free. I crawl in and look around. My door's closed, I think no one knew I was gone. I pull the letter out and slip it under my pillow. I throw my coat on the floor, peel off my pants, and start to un-button Spike's shirt... but no. I'm keeping it on, just a little longer. I get under the covers of my bed and snuggle into his scent for a bit more sleep. Things will look better when I wake, I'm sure of it.

THUMP THUMP "Buffy!" THUMP "Buffy??"

"Huh... wha? Dawnie? Come in..."

"My God, you're alive! Buffy, do you know what time it is? " Dawn goes to the curtains, flinging them open and the light blinds me. I try to peer at Dawn through the hand shielding my eyes.

"No, what time?"

"It's 11:30! Are you gonna sleep the day away?"

"11:30. Wow. No, honey. I'm sorry. I'm getting up. Just had a rough night."

"Yeah, I never even heard you come in. Is there a new oogly-boogly to research?"

"No.... just the same old thing. Vamps." I sigh deeply, wishing the "same old thing" was still in his crypt waiting for me. Damn, what am I gonna tell Dawn about Spike? She'll notice he's gone... well, she won't notice immediately, I'll have time to come up with something.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you wearing one of Spike's shirts?"

12. Caught

Buffy's room, 11:30 a.m.

*gulp* "Uh, what?" My mind is struggling to catch up. Shit shit shit. I wasn't ready for this.

"Buffy, you are wearing one of Spike's shirts. Why?"

"This old thing? Uh, this is mine. Not Spike's" Did I convince her? Pretty lame. I doubt she's buying.

Dawn rolls her eyes. "I'm 16 years old, Buffy. I think I can tell a man's shirt from a woman's. And I've seen Spike wear that very shirt!" Her voice pitches higher. I've wounded her teen pride for the millionth time. Damn.

I take a very deep breath and look at Dawn. I've got to start trusting her more one of these days. And she will eventually find out he's gone. "You're right, Dawn. It is Spike's." I just let that statement hang in the air, looking at her with eyes pleading for understanding. Understanding what, I'm not quite sure yet.

She cocks her head slightly, studying my reaction. I see a light slowly begin to creep across her face. Wham, there it is. The dots have officially been connected. "BUFFY! Did you... did he... omigod!" She shrieks. I flinch.

"Dawn, wait. Calm down. Dawn!" Dawn has jumped onto the bed, crosslegged. "Tell me everything!!"

"First of all, uh, no. Don't get carried away, sweetie." She doesn't even really hear me. Dawn is still lightly bouncing on the bed. Spike has been so many things to her... crush, protector, big brother, villain, father figure, hero.... I wasn't sure what her reaction would be. She was not thrilled when he chained me up that time, but then, neither was I. How things have changed.... I smile wanly at the turn of events. She is truly happy about us being together. Weird. Her hands are flailing around a bit. "Earth to Buffy! Tell me what happened!"

"Dawn. Please." I swallow. This is going to be hard. I've never verbalized my feelings for Spike. To anyone. I'm not sure I can do it. Better start with the bad news. But which one is the bad news? She feels my seriousness and I can see her deflating slightly.

"Buffy? What's wrong?" Her wide eyes are staring at me. She reaches over and touches my arm. "Are... are you okay?"

God, my sister is not a child anymore. Even she can see I feel shattered. My eyes are wet.

"Buffy?!" There is panic. Fear. "Is... he okay?"

The memories of the morning roll through me. Quietly, "he left." Pause A whisper, "he's gone." The floodgates come crashing down, the dam bursts and the sandbags are not holding. My sudden tears freak her out even more as she leans over and crushes me with a tight hug .

"But... but why?"

"He loved me. He left because I told him I could never love him in return." Her arms twitch around me. She leans back slowly, loosening her grip, her wide eyes lock on mine.

"Buffy, if you don't love him, why the waterworks? And why the shirt? I'm confused. And is he coming back? " I can see the threads of Dawn's life unraveling further. How much more change can she take? How much more loss? And why can't I stop crying?

13. Little Sis

Buffy's bed, 12:30 p.m.

We've been talking for almost an hour. I feel so free all of a sudden. A huge weight is lifted. Dawn has listened to me spill my guts about the whole sordid affair. She hasn't condemned me, questioned my motives or made me feel evil. All the things I feared. Of course, she likes Spike. Others are not so fond... especially those he's tried to kill before. Naturally.
I so want to be a role model for her. I protected her from my life these last few months, hoping she would learn how to act from someone with more sense. Turns out I was stupid. No substitute for big sis in her mind. I'm not just her sister anymore, I'm pretty much the only family she's got. Naturally, I leave out a lot of details. She IS still my little sister and I'm not giving her sex tips, especially not the kind Spike and I shared. I tell her I felt so sad when I came back. The world was too much for me. Spike helped me forget all that, made me feel safe, indulged my need to feel. I admit I used him. Not my proudest moment. I tell her I finally believe his love for me to be true. And then I reveal the terrible timing of my revelation about my feelings for him. And I actually say it out loud, for the first time.

"...I love him, Dawn."

"Oh, Buffy." Tears have long since formed in her eyes. She never expected the story to end so good and bad all the same time. "But he's coming back, right?" I can see that losing another person in her life is threatening to release the welling tears. Her young mind is probably eight steps ahead of me, seeing us as a family, living happily ever after. And her vision is being threatened by him leaving. He has to come back. It's hard to believe I'm only 22... talking to her makes me feel 50. All I see her are the obstacles to happiness. She looks right through every difficulty and complication, digging for that little bit of goodness and hope. I realize that is why she likes Spike. She can see right through his big bad facade. And he likes it, as loath as he would be to admit it. That's why he loves his "little Bit."

I nod. My voice is starting to fail me. "His letter said he would, Dawnie." I brush a hair away from her face. "We just have to trust him to keep his word." She nods in response. We both look down at the bedspread, wondering what to do next. Finally, I speak. "Dawn, it's Saturday. Let's go out and do something. No sense in staying cooped up here on a beautiful day. Be my date for the day." I screw up my courage and give her a smile. She echoes my smile and pats my hand. reassuringly.

"Of course, Buffy. I'll get lunch going. You get dressed." She leaps from the bed and I hear her clatter down the stairs. Every move from that girl is so big - all arms and legs. I can't help smiling. I can get through this. As long as the sun is shining, I can pretend he's still around. I'm going to focus on making it up to Dawn. I didn't really tell her everything, but enough. She is young and wants to believe in love. This talk would be substantially harder with any other Scooby. Let's not get into that, just yet. First, a shower. Slowly, reluctantly, I unbutton his shirt and hang it carefully in the closet. I want to keep it nice. He'll be back for it.

14. Truth be Told

A month later. Buffy's house, 7 p.m.

My head is killing me. I massage my temples, trying to lessen the pounding. I knew that talking to Xander about Spike would be the hardest, that's why I waited so long. But whew, I really underestimated the extent to which Xander dislikes "Deadboy". After two hours, the best I could do was make him promise not to stake Spike when he comes back. I guess some would call that progress. I groan and sprawl back on the couch. I can't believe how hard this has been. After talking to Dawn, I decided it was time for Buffy to stop with the lying and begin with the truth-telling.

Anya was the easiest to tell. She just wanted details on the orgasms. Like how long did my legs go numb for and would I tell Xander how Spike did that thing with his tongue. Egad, no! The hardest part was getting her not to tell Xander til I got to him. I can still hear her now, "But Xander and I like orgasms and you and Spike clearly do too. Shouldn't he be happy for you? We've got things in common to talk about during our double dates." Ha.

Talking to Willow and Tara was fine. Tara had an inkling about me and Spike already and Willow wasn't completely shocked. Willow is so great she is even forgiving him for trying to kill her... twice. They seemed willing to accept my love for him and his for me. Naturally, they are worried. Not quite sure what it all means and if it will end well. Join the crowd, ladies.

Giles didn't take it very well, but at least I got to do it over the phone. I could practically hear him cleaning those glasses over and over, massaging the spot between his eyes as I talked. He doesn't approve, but in line with the Buffy standing on her own two feet theme, he supports me. As with everyone else, he offers to stake Spike if he hurts me. Do they forget that I'm the Slayer? If there's any staking to be done, Mr. Pointy will be first in line.

I can't decide if I should call Angel. We don't talk anymore. He's out of my life, and though I still hold a bit of love in my heart for him, I haven't called. You can't really expect the ex to sign off on me dating his soul-less childe, now can you? I do feel like I should tell him, though. Arghhhh. At least all this torturous discussion of my relationship with Spike has passed the time. I wish I knew where he went. I just have no clue when he'll get back. He could be halfway around the world. And what does he mean when he says he wants to be more than he is? Is he taking anger management courses or what?? Hypnosis so he can kick the habit of craving human blood? I hate not knowing.

Well, the night is still young. My conversation with Xander has already put me into a sour mood. Might as well put a cherry on the angst sundae. I reach for the phone and dial up Angel Investigations.

"Angel Investigations. We help the helpless. Can we help you?"

"Cordelia?"

"Yeeessss.... who is this?"

"It's Buffy."

"OH! Uh, hold on, okay?" *click* I flinch a little and turn to look at the receiver. She's acting strange. And putting me on hold? Nice music, though...

*click* "Buffy?" His voice sounds incredulous.

"Angel! Is everything okay there? Cordy acted a bit weird just now."

"No, no. Everything's fine. We've, uh, just got a client here." He does not sound normal. I hear loud music in the background... is that the Kinks? I hear the distinctive chords of "You Really Got Me" but no words.

"ANGEL! Are you guys doing Karaoke???"

15. Karaoke?

"Karaoke? Are you kidding, Buffy? Of course not. " He covers the phone and I hear urgent whispers, replies and a door slam. The music is muffled now. "So, uh, what can I do for you?"

"Angel, you are acting seriously weird. What kind of client have you got there? A music demon? Hey, if you are all singing involuntarily, watch out . We had a... well, an incident awhile ago. And well, let's just say there was singing, dancing and spontaneous combustion. Not of the good. Even Spike rattled off a few numbers."

"Spike? Really? Well, that is something."

I'm really starting to think Angel drank some bad blood. I've never mentioned Spike's name before and not heard a growl from him. He actually sounds interested. Interested and nervous. Whatever.

"Well, speaking of Spike.."

"Why? What do you.... I mean, what?"

"Angel, settle down. I have to tell you something about Spike." I can't believe I'm doing this. I should just hang up, pretend I dialed in my sleep or something. Yeah, sleep-calling. Happens all the time. Right? *sigh* "Well, things have changed with Spike lately."

"He didn't get the chip out, did he?" Now, there's the familiar reaction to Spike. Suspicion, anger. All the fun ones.

"Nooo.... it's just. Angel, I don't know how to break this to you easy, but I wanted to let you know. SpikeandIareinvolved."

"Huh? You and Spike are what? You said it too fast, Buffy."

"Spike. And. I. Are. Involved."

"Involved in what? Is there another apocalypse?!"

Holy crap. Was he always this thick? "SPIKE AND I ARE DATING!" Whoops, didn't really mean to yell that. "Only, he's not here right now, so it's weird..."

Silence.

More silence.

"Ange..."

He cuts me off, "Are you trying to tell me that you are WILLINGLY going out with, with Spike?"

"yeah."

His voice takes on stranger quality than before, as if he is trying to talk through clenched teeth. "Can you hold on? Thanks." Clunk. I didn't even get a chance to say anything. He's obviously put the phone down on a table or something. I can still hear sounds. More urgent whispers, voices rise , the music cuts off, the door slams and he's back. "I'm back. Buffy, are you out of your mind? How can you trust him? What drove you to him?"

I'm starting to wonder why I called Angel in the first place. He's sounding like a cross between a Dad and a jealous ex. I guess he does have the qualifications for the latter, but still. I didn't call to be lectured.

"It's a long story, but Angel, you just have to trust me. I..." I'm not telling him I love Spike. I'm tired of explaining it to everyone. There's only one person I want to say it to and he's not around. "I'll be fine. We didn't really tell anyone and I hated leaving my friends in the dark. I hope you'll respect my wishes. He loves me, Angel. He won't hurt me." No response. "Um, I should go...."

"Buffy... don't hang up. Thanks for trusting me with this. I know it was hard to call. I can't believe it myself, but I'll try to respect what you've asked. You must really care for him. But if he hurts you...."

"I know I know. Take a number." I smile despite myself. "See ya." *click*

I did it. I told every person in my life about my love for Spike except for the very subject of my affection. And really, didn't Angel take all of that a little too well? No yelling or anything. Huh. Maybe he's starting to mellow in his very much older age. Huh. And where the hell is Spike, anyway? I flop back on the couch. Sleep now, think tomorrow.

16. Spike Pays a Visit

Angel Investigations, Two Hours Earlier

Cordelia leans at the front counter, chin perched on one hand as the other flips through case files. She mutters to herself, "Demon... Demon... Demon. Same old, same old. Oh wait, here's a warlock. Purple robes, so not a good look..."

WHAM. The front door slams open, smacking the wall.

"Anyone home? Angel, you big poofter, where are you?"

Cordelia's mouth opens wide, and her chin slips off her hand. Nearly knocking herself out on the counter, she takes a few seconds to recover. "Sp... Spike?!..... ANGEL!"

Angel comes flying out of his office, papers flapping in his hand. "Cordy? What's wrong?"

She just points at the blond vampire, now flopped down on one of the couches in the lobby, feet on the coffee table, smirking. "Why, Angel, I see you haven't changed one bit. Funny thing that... I have."

With one swift motion, Angel swings over the counter and strides to Spike, picking him up by his duster's lapels. "What the hell are you doing here?" he grinds out.

Spike puts his hands up in surrender. "Hey now, game face and everythin'. Didn't know you still cared."

"You have three seconds to explain yourself , Spike. What are you doing here? Is something going on in Sunnydale?" He shakes him once, hard. "Is Buffy okay!?"

"Oi, mate! Put me down, eh? I'm not here to fight ya. Well, unless you want to, of course. I never get tired of disrespecting my elders..."

In a warning tone, "Spike."

"Oh, right. Listen, I want to talk to you. It's.... uh... well, it's personal. Can we not do this in front of the bird?" Spike points a thumb towards Cordelia, who is just standing there behind the counter, files forgotten.

"Spike, is Buffy okay? We're not moving til you tell me the truth."

"Really the purpose of my visit. She's fine, I hope . I haven't seen her in three weeks. Been out and about...."

"Spike, I don't know what you're talking about, but we'll talk about it downstairs. Cordy, stay here, okay?"

"Uh yeah. You betcha." She watches the two vamps head for the freight elevator. Once they head down to Angel's living area, she returns to the files. "Never a dull moment, that's for sure... oh my god!" She holds up a piece of paper. "We drag a Sherak demon out of their crawlspace and these people never paid! Oh, we'll just see about that..." Cordelia moves to the computer, typing furiously.... listening for sounds of furniture breaking downstairs. It's really quiet. Maybe a little too quiet...

17. Game face

Angel Investigations, basement

Angel pushes Spike ahead of him. "Sit down, Spike."

"Enough with the pushing, Peaches. I already said I'm not here to fight you."

"And you'll just have to forgive me for not believing one thing you say, Spike. I've known you too long for that."

Spike flops down on an overstuffed chair. "Yeah, well, I've changed, alright. I mean, look at you, all broody and... good. YOU've changed. Why can't I?"

Angel sighs, and takes a position opposite Spike, at the foot of his bed. "Can we cut through the crap and get to the point? We both know I'm different because of the soul. What are you doing here? And PLEASE don't say you are here to ask for my help." Spike takes a sudden interest in his hands, fidgeting briefly. "You have got to be kidding."

"Well, see. The way I see it is this." Spike's bottled up energy propels him from the chair. He begins to pace back and forth. "You help people... you even help demons, sometimes, I wager. Not the point, though. I only need one thing from you."

"And I'm sure you've got some "bloody brilliant" reason why I should give it to you?" drips Angel sarcastically.

Spike pauses in his pacing and grits his teeth. He sets his jaw and turns to Angel. "The fact of the matter is this, mate. I'm in love with Buffy. She says she can't love me without a soul, so I'm looking to get one. And who better to ask than the Great Poof Avenger himself, eh?" Spike tries a smile, hoping it will keep Angel from attacking. Wrong.

WHAM. CRACK!

[ Cordelia lifts her head upstairs. "That's more like it. It was getting kind of eerie down there." ]

Spike picks himself up from the floor, holding his head. He looks back to see that his flying body cracked the wall. He turns back in time to see Angel coming towards him, fast, game face on. The conflict is plain on the blond vamp's face, as his demon fights to take over, ridges beginning at his forehead. Spike shakes his head, fighting back the transformation. "Hey, that last part was a joke, Peaches... trying to lighten the mood and all.." He ducks, as Angel's fist disappears into the wall. " If you'd just settle down..." Struggling to remove his left fist from the plaster, Angel swings with his right, just missing Spike, but succeeding in getting that one stuck in the wall, too. Spike ducks out and comes around the back of Angel, who is helpless to defend himself. He growls and thrashes as Spike circles behind him.

"Tut, tut. Quite the temper, Angel. These old walls can't take your little rages. " Spike decides to talk quickly, as Angel will definitely get his hands out soon. Very soon. "At least I've got your attention for now. I'm not making this up. I love the Slayer." A growl emanates from Angel. "She's not your bloody girlfriend anymore, Angel! It's not your right to protect her from any bloke that feels something for her." Pause. "Besides, I won't hurt her. I won't. I love her too much." Spike's voice loses its usual cockiness, a change Angel seems to pick up. He's quiet for a few seconds. Then, with one huge growl, he rips his hands and half the wall out to get free. He turns on Spike, expecting him to be standing there, glaring at him, looking all cocky.

He couldn't be more wrong. Spike is sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes on the floor. When he looks up, the pain in his blue eyes is a physical force, so strong it pushes Angel back a step. He shakes off the game face and just stares. Angel knows that look. He had the same one when he walked out of Buffy's life forever.

18. The Talk

Angel pauses, trying to decide what to do with this Spike. He seems sincere, honest even. This is not the Spike he knew for a century. Could he really love Buffy? And if he does, could that love change him this much? He smiles the tiniest bit, well, it sure as hell had its effect on him. Angel reaches a tentative decision and takes a seat across from Spike. He leans his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands.

"Alright, Spike. I'm listening. For now. If I so much as smell betrayal on you or ANY clue that you are just trying to find a new way to hurt her, I will kill you without blinking and sweep the dust into the sewer."

Spike blinks. "Hmph. Reckon that's a a big step for you, Peaches. Listening and all. The threatening to kill me, that I'm bloody well used to." Spike studies his hands for a minute, turning a silver ring around his thumb, collecting the thoughts that are threatening to tear him apart. Somehow, he wasn't quite prepared for Angel to listen to him. Thought he might fight him, that Angel might let something slip he could use. Now the poofter was acting halfway civil to him. Vampire loving a slayer... The Slayer. Guess he can relate. "Alright then, mate. The fact of the matter is, I love this girl. It came to me in a bloody dream and woke me in a cold sweat. Sure as hell didn't want to love her... wanted to kill her. But then again, love and death have always been bedmates for me." Angel's eyes narrowed. "Down, down, Angelus. I don't want to kill her anymore. Loving her... and having her return that love would be enough." Angel snorts. "I know, what the hell would a creature like Buffy do with an evil bloodsucking fiend, eh? That's what I'm here for, though. I want to win her love, but first I have to win a soul."

"It's not something you get at the carnival, Spike. You may recall the circumstances I got mine under."

"Yeah, yeah. But I don't want a bloody curse. What the hell would I want a soul for if I can't.... can't..." Spike swallows as he sees Angel is not fond of the direction the conversation is taking. "can't talk about this with you." He stands up and starts pacing again. "What was I thinking! Angelus is going to help ME get a soul. Help me get the love of a woman so incredible it burns me just to touch her. So strong she makes me want to..." Spike trails off as he sees the muscles in Angel's jaw twitching. "Listen, I've been all over, in every demon bar and hole in the wall in this town for three weeks. Been in plenty of bar fights and all I've been hearing is "Angel, Angel, Angel." You want a soul, better talk to Angel. You know better than anyone that I would just about rather stake myself than ask you for anything. But that's how much I love her. I love her so..." Spike's jaw clenches "so bloody much I am HERE. Here in front of my grandsire, asking for his help." Spike flops back on the bed, sure his staking is imminent.

Angel struggles in his mind with the choice in front of him. Helping Spike. Not at the top... or even bottom of his list of things to do. Help Spike get Buffy?! Never. But look at him, he's suffering. Well, he deserves to suffer. He thinks of Spike and Dru together. When he loves someone, he loves them beyond all reason. Beyond all limitations. Buffy deserves that, even if it is Spike. He might just help her live beyond the typical Slayer lifespan. And with a soul, Spike will change. I don't think Spike realizes what a soul will do to him, good and bad. The guilt... And if I help Spike, I will have taken the bloodlust away from a killer. I would be doing... a good thing? Angel sighs. What a position to be in. Without looking up, he says quietly, "I will help you." Spike bolts upright. "On ONE condition...."

"Name it."

"You're going to have to sing..."

Spike blinks, cocks his head at Angel. Sounds like his grandsire has bloody well lost his mind...

19. Enter Lorne

"Sing? Bugger all, Angel, did you say I would have to SING? I don't sing. Well, I did, but I won't. Last time there was singing... that didn't end too badly, now that I think about it. But anyway, what the bloody hell are you going on about?" Spike is clearly agitated by this turn of events as he gestures wildly at Angel.

"Spike, settle down. You're the one going on about it. I have a friend here.. a demon. Name's Lorne. He reads people when they sing. He also has some serious connections in the demon world, including ways to the Powers That Be. Powers that you will have to visit to have a chance at what you want."

Spike stops. "Powers that Be? Are these the wankers that have set you on your mission to save the world, strike against all evil and such rot? 'Cause I'm NOT signing onto their little crew. I'm nobody's 'noble warrior.' "

"Tell me about it, Spike. No, the Powers that Be are not that simple. I have no way of knowing if they will help you at all. Or what they will expect. Getting to them is in no way easy. And getting anything FROM them is even harder. But you said you loved her."

"Damn... well ... bloody... right... I do." Spike sets his jaw and his shoulders. "Let's get on wit' it, then. Where's this Lorne?"

"Follow me." Angel and Spike return to the elevator and the lobby. Cordelia looks up, expecting Angel to be covered in Spike-dust or at least for someone to be bloodied up. When they both arrive intact, she returns to staring. They walk past her to the stairs of the hotel.

Spike leans over to Angel, "Something wrong with that girl? I don't remember her being so quiet before. All screechy and loud, she was. Has she gone daft?"

Angel looks back at Cordy. "Nah, she just can't believe you are still in one piece."

"Hey! Who's to say it would be me torn apart ? I can take you in a fight, Peaches."

"Spike, can we stick to the subject here? Lorne! LORNE!! " Angel calls up the stairs and there are steps on the stairs above. Lorne reaches the landing in a yellow silk robe over his sky blue pajamas.

"Bless my stars and garters, tall dark and loud! Whatever is it? I was just going to have a soak. And who's this? Friend of yours? Same sun allergy, I see."

"Lorne, this is Spike. Spike, Lorne." Spike nods to Lorne, still taking in the flamboyance of the green-skinned demon.

"Spike, it's a pleasure. Or is it business? Angel?" Lorne comes all the way down the stairs, goes in front of Cordelia, snaps his fingers to bring her out of her staring stupor.

"Business. Sort of. Spike and I used to... well, kill together."

"Oh, THAT Spike. Heavens. Thought you two didn't get on too well nowadays."

"We don't. But I've decided we can help him. Just this once. Provided you don't mind reading him? I need to know he is being truthful."

"'Ey, I told you..."

"Spike, you can't be trusted and you know it. You'll have to sing."

Spike mutters and kicks at the couch near him. "Better not be some poofter song or I won't do it."

"Bloody, lorry and lift, your accent is to die for, Spike! Let's go pick a song." Lorne, unfazed by the tension in the air, takes Spike by the arm and drags him into the next room where his Karaoke machine is set up. "Good thing my club is blown up or I wouldn't have this thing lying around . Let's rephrase, not a good thing my club is blown up, but good to have the accompaniment. Hmm... now when Angel sang last, he did this number...."

Spike erupts in laughter, doubling over immediately. When he stands up, tears are running down his face. "You got Peaches to sing? Can't believe I soddin' missed it. Bloody scourge of Europe doing Barry Manilow. Oi, it's too much. Gotta sit down." Spike sprawls into one of the wooden chairs, still shaking with laughter.

"And let me tell you, hon." Lorne drops his voice. "He may wield a mean axe, but he can't carry a note in a bushel basket! My ears!"

Spike grins. At least Angel has SOME friends worth knowing.

"So, let's see. We need to pick you a song. Tell me what brings you to our fair city. Certainly not the beaches..."

" A girl, mate. Hell, THE girl. I love her. I've come to see Peaches 'bout getting a soul so she can love me back."

"Oh, the classic soulless vampire loves girl, girl can't love vampire due to evil tendencies story. Hear it all the time..." Lorne laughs. "I've got the perfect song. "

"yeah?"

"Yeah, perfect for someone leather-covered and angst-filled like yourself. I'll assume you've heard of the Kinks?"

A grin cracks Spike's face. "Bloody brilliant, mate. Dead on accurate."

20. Open Foot, Insert Mouth

Angel Investigations, 9 p.m.

Meanwhile, in the lobby:

"Angel, what is he doing here? And why is he STILL here? We're not helping him, are we? I mean, come on..."

"Cordy, we are helping him. It's what we do."

"But why? We should stake him! He's an undead, bloodsucking vampire!" Cordy's eyes widened. "Who is NOTHING like you 'cause you are all soul-having and uh, fighting the good fight. Yeah! That's it." She swallows as Angel gives her a look. "And uh... what are we helping him with, again?" She looks down, shuffling papers, hoping to have her foot surgically removed from her mouth at some point.

"He's in love, Cordy."

"Yeah, with that whack job Drusilla. Why would we help because of that?"

"No, it's not Dru. He loves someone else, someone human." He looks away, through the open door where he can see Lorne and Spike laughing about something. He speaks much more quietly. "He loves Buffy."

"Hello? Over here, mister. I don't have that super-vamp hearing. What did you say?"

Angel turns back and puts his hands on the counter, looking at the floor. His jaw twitches and he looks up at Cordy. "He loves Buffy."

"WHAT!?! Buffy? The Buffy? Your Buffy? Of course, it must be, who else would name their daughter Buffy... But Angel, he told you that? You don't actually believe him, do you? He wants to kill her, he always has!"

"Yeah, but with Spike, wanting to kill someone is just one step away from loving them. Apparently, he's taken that step. And he's ready to take another one.... a big one... to win her love in return."

"And that is the thing we are going to help him with? Angel, are you out of your tree? Too much time in the dark ? Let him suffer! Why should he have that when you couldn't?"

Angel has resumed his study of the floor. " 'Cause I know what it's like, Cordy. I know what it feels like to not be able to have the woman you love." His eyes are on hers when he says this last part, and Cordy starts to wonder if they are still talking about Buffy.

She blinks a few times and then looks over towards Spike and Lorne. "So, uh... okay. Point taken. What' s the big step he wants to take?"

"A soul. He wants a soul." Angel walks toward the other room to see how the song selection is going, leaving Cordelia's jaw on the table. She picks it up and follows him.

"Angel, baby, come for the show? Spike's going to give us a good number, I can tell." Lorne fiddles with the knobs on his karaoke machine, taps the mike to see if it's live and hands it to Spike.

Angel leans against the doorframe and Cordy peeks around his shoulder.

"Bloody hell, you're all going to watch?" Spike growls and hands the mike back to Lorne so he can whip off his duster.

"Wouldn't miss it." Angel gives him a smirk.

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but I'm not doing Barry Manilow." Spike takes the mike back.

"You told him, Lorne!!" Angel stands up and glares at the demon.

"Sorry, babe, just slipped out." He winks at Spike and reaches for the Play button.

An unmistakable guitar riff begins and Spike looks at the monitor for his cue.

21. Spike Sings

Angel Investigations, 9:05 p.m.

Spike closes his eyes and brings the mike to his mouth. As the guitars continue, the drums start to pound and Spike starts nice and low:

"Girl, you really got me goin'
You got me so I don't know what I'm doin' "

Cordy's eyes are bugging out of her sockets at the sexy voice pouring out of the blond vamp. Not to mention the sleek black figure he cuts in leather and a half-buttoned shirt. She swallows. Angel turns to catch her eye and she quickly blushes. Angel crosses his arms in front of him. Meanwhile, Spike continues, speeding up as the song really kicks in...

"Oh yeah, you really got me now
You got me so I can't sleep at noon"

Lorne claps and laughs at Spike's customizing of the lyrics. Naturally Spike "can't sleep at night", so he changes the line to something more appropriate for a vamp in love.

"You really got me
you really got me"

Spike is really getting into the song now, forgetting his audience, he moves seductively, roughly like he's onstage with thousands of screaming fans.

The phone rings in the background, and Cordy turns away to grab it.

"See, don't ever set me free
I always wanna be by your siiiiiide"

Spike drags out the note, wishing he could sing this to Buffy.

"Girl, you really got me
You got me so I can't sleep..."

Cordy comes running back, grabs at Angel's arm and whispers in his ear. Angel glares at her, then Spike, and turns away into the lobby. Spike starts to come out of performance mode, wondering what the deal is. Lorne shrugs at him, gestures to keep singing. Spike just watches through the open door at Angel, who has grabbed the phone and seems very intent on the caller. Spike can't hear the conversation over the continuing blare of the music. Angel waves at them to close the door. He stage whispers, "Close it! Be quiet!"

Spike replies in the same loud whisper, "Wanker!" and slams the door. He and Lorne shrug at each other.

"Don't know what got his knickers in a twist, but you were doing great! You ever think of performing?"

"Come on, mate. Me?" Spike kicks at the nearest chair, stuffs his hands in his pockets.

"No, really, here, take my card. If I ever get the club back up and running, I want you to come by and favor us with a few numbers." Lorne pulls a business card out of his robe's pocket and holds it out to Spike. Just then the door slams open and Angel is standing there. Spike can see the phone is lying on the counter out in the lobby.

"Turn. Off. the. Music."

"Sodding wanker, we were talking! Don't you bloody knock!?" Spike yells in reply.

Angel stomps over to the karaoke machine and yanks the plug out of the wall. "Just stay in here and be quiet til I'm off the phone. It's B...bad news from one of my clients. I'm not done with you." He storms back out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Bloody poof's gonna break his own door. He always like this?"

Lorne sighs and hands Spike the card. "Pretty much. Not Mr. Sunshine, I'll tell you. Literally, of course, but you know all about that. So, let's talk about what I saw." Lorne takes a seat and gestures to the one across from him. "How long have you been in love with the Slayer?"

Spike sinks into the seat. "Damn, Lorne, how did you do that?"

"It's what I do, hon, it's what I do."

22. Decisions, decisions

Angel Investigations, 9:15 p.m.

"This love hasn't been easy for you, hon. The pain you are feeling, it's just shining through you."

Spike sighs and shakes his head. "Tell me about it. The way I..."

Angel whips the door open. "Lorne? What did you see?"

"Well, don't beat around the bush there, Angel pants. I'll tell you what I saw..." Angel glances at Spike, who has slumped back in his chair, eyes on the ceiling. He CAN'T be blinking back tears, not Spike. Angel shakes his head and turns back to Lorne.

Lorne gets serious. "I saw a true love so blinding, I had to make sure I was reading him right. He's the real deal. He loves her more than... well, more than I thought possible without a soul."

Spike brings his eyes down to Angel's. "Just like I told you. Now, where are these Powers that Be?"

Before Angel can answer, Lorne chimes in, "Oh heavens. Why are we bringing them into it?"

"Lorne, I'm here to get a soul. I'll do whatever it takes. Angelus here says the Powers are the ones to go to. And that you are the chap to get me to them."

"A soul?? The Powers?? Ay. I had no idea. Thought I was just checkin' for a love vibe. Are you sure about this? I can't promise anything. Heck, if I can even get you to them, they might just snap their fingers and turn you *poof* to dust."

"Don't have a choice, Lorne. I can't go back like this. I haven't seen 'er in three weeks. Feels like three years. I lost her once and I won't, I won't let it happen again. I HAVE to get this thing done."

"But why the soul? I have to say, I saw goodness in you. Even without a soul."

"'Ey, don't go shouting that from the rooftops, mate. I still have some bit of reputation to save... Anyway, it's what she wants. Way I see it, she must need a little more man in her monster. And a soul is just the ticket. If you loved her like I do, you would risk it all in a second to give her what she needs. So?"

Lorne sighs, rubs his hands together and shakes his head. "Hon, I will. I'm not happy about it, but I will. I suppose the sooner, the better?"

Spike nods.

"Let me go get decent. We'll leave in ten minutes."

"I'll be here." Spike stretches out, closes his eyes and tries to relax in the chair. After a few quiet minutes, he opens an eye. Angel has now taken a seat nearby. "And what are you lurking about for?"

"Just thinking, Spike. Thinking of how we were... how we are... how we are going to be if you succeed. Hard to believe."

"If I didn't know better, I would think you believe I can do it, Angelus." Spike snorts a short laugh.

"I do."

"Come on."

"No, I do. No secret that I don't like you. Never really liked you and your attitude and impetuousness. But if there's one thing I've never been able to doubt is your ability to love. To devote yourself wholly to another. Now that I've seen you with my own eyes and heard Lorne's reading, I see that devotion for Buffy. You'd kill for her. Actually, better yet, you DON'T kill for her. 'Cause she wouldn't like it. It's not that chip anymore that keeps you from feeding. It's her. So yeah, I think you'll make it."

Spike's mouth is slightly open. "Angelus, that is the most I've ever heard you say. Uh. Thanks, mate. For everything." He stands up and starts to head for the door. He stops by Angel's chair, but never looks at him. "I'll do right by her." And then he walks out to see if Lorne's ready.

"Damn right you will." Angel scowls in the near dark. "I'll be there if you don't."

23. Meeting at Frank's

Los Angeles, outside Frank's Bar, 1:30 a.m.

"Are you sure this bird is even in L.A., Lorne?" Spike and Lorne stand outside the door of Frank's, preparing to visit the 17th bar of the night. All bars that cater to the demons, vampire, witches and other mystical types of the city.

"I have it on good authority from a Sheerak demon that she's here, hon. Somewhere. She's not leaving bread crumbs, you know." He pats Spike's shoulder. "We're going to find her. I can feel her power near here. And they make a mean Sea Breeze here at Frank's. I don't know 'bout you, but I am positively parched."

Spike tosses his cigarette to the ground and grinds it out with his boot. "I sure as hell hope you're right. I'm gettin' bloody tired of this searching. "

"Not the picture of patience, are ya, dear? Not to worry. I think this could be it." Lorne pushes the door open and the pair walk into another dark, smoky room. Another room full of creatures that the citizens of L.A. have no idea exist. Or at least, hope they don't. Spike pulls out another cigarette and puts it between his lips.

"See her?"

"Not yet, let's go up to the bar." Lorne walks up and greets the bartender in a familiar way, leaning in for a talk as Spike surveys the room. His eyes flit over the inhabitants, mentally cataloging their identities. He mutters, "Vamp, vamp, Gorlack demon, warlock, Corpular demon... hmm. Lady with blue skin." He is frozen as the blue-skinned woman across the room seems to have heard him. Her eyes lift and lock on his and he suddenly feels naked. As if she is looking into and through him at the same time. She stands up and he realizes she is tall and willowy, at least six feet. And she is coming towards him. For some reason, he is both comforted and terrified. He swallows, the cigarette still dangling from suddenly dry lips. "Lorne." Lorne continues to chat animatedly with the bartender. "Lorne. LORNE."

"Huh, you say something there?" Lorne glances over his shoulder at Spike. "Is something wrong? You've got a look on your face that could dry paint. And let me tell you, that's not..."

"Lorne, stop talking. Is that her?" He gestures towards the tall woman making her way towards them. The crowd is parting for her.

"Her? Where?" Lorne turns and shrieks like a schoolgirl. "It IS her! Ka'jiin ! Over here!"

Spike's eyes widen. "What are you doin..." His words drop off as he sees a smile crack the face of the woman approaching.

A voice like liquid coats him with her words. "Lorne. It has been too long." He hugs her and Spike just stands there. He is sure this woman can read his mind and knows his every deed, past and present. She is powerful, indeed.

"And your friend? Spike? You seek me because of him?" He blinks. He was right. Her questions are statements. She already knows why they are there. Ka'jiin turns her eyes to him. Beneath long black lashes, her eyes are a stunning mix of dark blue and silver. They are like planets, swirling bodies of water and land. Spike feels he is seeing the universe in their depths.

"Yes, yes, we're here for Spike. Guess you've been picking up the vibes, Ka?"

" I could feel you for hours, my dear. I'm glad to see you. He seems a bit startled. Perhaps I went too deeply into his mind for our first meeting?"

Lorne shakes Spike a little, who seems to snap out of his stupor a bit. "Oi, I feel like someone's been scratching around in my skull, Lorne."

"Sorry, sweets, I should have warned you. Ka'jiin here likes to take a bit of a tour before agreeing to help someone. It can be... uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? Hell, I've lost my appetite. Maybe permanently." Spike fumbles in his pocket for his lighter. Ka looks at him and he sees the smallest movement in her eyes. A trail of smoke wafts from his now-lit cigarette. "Uh, thanks. "

"My pleasure, Spike. Or would you prefer William?"

24. In Her Eyes

Frank's Bar, 1:45 a.m.

The trio of Lorne, Spike and Ka'jiin sit around a table in the corner of Frank's. Still a bit queasy from Ka'jiin's tour of his inner self, Spike is nursing a cold beer. Lorne and Ka are catching up on old times...

"Oh Lorne! The stories you tell. It is so refreshing to not be cowered in front of. You make me laugh. And no one makes me laugh." Like the sound of bells, her laughter rings.

"Why do people cower? Is it the brain-scratching thing you do, luv?" Spike looks up at the blue-skinned creature dressed all in black.

Her liquid silver eyes fix on him, unsettling him once again. "William, I am one of the ancient powers. I spend time on Earth by choice. Most inhabitants of this planet, those that are aware of my existence, have a healthy fear of me." Her eyes darken into nearly black orbs. Spike swallows and shifts in his seat.

"Uh, right then. I see." Spike looks at Lorne, clearly uncomfortable.

"So, Ka. While it has tickled me to no end to see you after all this time, you do know we seek you with a purpose."

"Yes. You wish to gain audience with the Powers that Be. You wish me to arrange this." Ka turns her lightened eyes to Lorne and Spike lets out a breath. "It is not a simple task, Lorne. I have seen the reasons in William. However, I would like him to tell me. What you ask is not without danger." Both turn to Spike. He sits up straight, feeling those ever-changing eyes on him again. They make him twitch. "Why do you love her enough to risk your very existence? You are immortal. Why face the Powers?"

"It's quite simple, Ka. If I can call you that." She nods, her sleek black hair brushing her shoulders. "I love her. I know you've seen it inside me. I can't believe it myself. I didn't know a thing like me could experience an emotion so pure. But she is the most bloody incredible woman I've ever known. Power, beauty, a spirit like no other. What being a vampire did to me in over a hundred years she has undone in four. I thought love was made up of blood and darkness. I... I know differently now. Her light... her soul. It burns me when I look at her. I want to be with her as long as the fates allow." Spike's confidence in the face of her unsettling gaze begins to grow. "I've lived long enough to risk the Powers. If they kill me, at least I will fall to dust knowing I tried. That I tried to be what Buffy needs. And if I succeed, I will savor every second of my time with her. Love her like she's never been loved. But if I don't even try, I may as well greet tomorrow's sunrise and let her find someone who deserves her." As if to punctuate his speech, Spike swallows the rest of his beer and slams the mug down, rattling the table. Ka continues to stare at him for endless seconds, then closes her eyes. Lorne flinches a little, hoping Spike has not been too defiant.

Her lashes flutter and she reveals her blue-silver orbs again. "I will take him. William's love is a force I can respect. It is an ancient power like my own. I only hope the Chosen One knows the nobility of the warrior that fights for her."

"She will, luv. She will."

"Then, let us begin. I sense your urgency. Lorne, this is not a journey you can take. My blessings on you. May we meet again during your time on Earth."

"Thanks, Ka. You're a doll. Spike, watch yourself. And good luck."

Spike reaches across and shakes Lorne's hand. "You're a right good mate, Lorne. Thanks. I'll keep in touch as long as I don't have to mess with the poofter."

"You bet. And remember, come on back. I want that voice in my club. When I have one!"

"Right. So, let's go, eh?" Spike stands up. Ka nods but remains seated. She raises her hands and murmurs words in a language long forgotten. They vanish in blue light and Lorne is suddenly alone.

He raises his glass. "Here's to hoping we meet again, friend." He tips the glass and finishes, stands up and heads into the night.

25. The Powers

Spike blinks. A second ago he was in a dark corner of Frank's. He squints at the incredible brightness of his new surroundings. All is white. He can see no walls or openings or shadows. Just white. He feels a hand on his shoulder.

"We are here, William."

"Here? Where? I can't see a bloody thing. Creature of the night, right? It's dark at night..." Spike holds his hand up to shield his eyes and look at Ka. If possible, she looks even less human. Her skin is glowing. "Uh, Ka? You're glowin', luv."

" I know, William. I also must tell you something else. I was not telling you the truth before."

"What?! You're not going to take me to the Powers? Bloody hell!"

"Remain calm, dark one. We are here. You are in the presence of the Powers."

"Where? I don't..." Spike whips around but they are clearly alone. He turns back to Ka and takes a step back. Waves of light are rolling off her and yes, she does appear to be floating. Her eyes have turned black again and as he looks into them, he has the sensation of falling. "You? All this time, you were the Powers?"

"Yes."

"Does Lorne know that?"

"No, he knows only that I am a mystical force with links to the Powers. You will not reveal my true identity."

Spike realizes he doesn't need to promise he won't. As if a switch has flipped in his head, he won't be able to tell.

"So, where do we go from here?"

"The granting of a soul is not a simple task, William. You must face trials. Your reasons must be pure. The trials will test both your strength of body and spirit. You must be strong in all ways to survive them. This will be the last time I ask you this. Are you ready to face the trials?"

"Ready and willing, luv." Spike smiles. "I'm ready for some action finally."

"May your love fortify you, William. I am not permitted to aid you, but I do wish you well. If you survive the trials offered here, there will be but one more step to your soul. I cannot tell you any more." Ka's eyes begin to swirl black and silver and Spike braces himself. She raises her hands and begins to chant. The room begins to darken and Spike feels his center shifting. He starts to lose consciousness as the room turns black. The last thing he sees is the silver of Ka'jiin's eyes before he drops to the ground.

26. The Trials Begin

Spike shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain. He looks around and realizes he does not recognize anything. Ka'jiin is gone, the white room is gone and he is sprawled out on a cold stone floor. As he lies there trying to regain his mobility, he realizes something else is gone. His chip. It is as if a voice has whispered this truth to him. He is sure of it. And he is very very hungry. He sits up suddenly as he hears a small noise.

He is not alone.

Spike stands up, wobbling a bit and looks around. He can smell her before he can see her. Somewhere in the dark corners of this cell, there is a human. And her blood is singing to him. Thrumming in his brain. He puts his hand to his stomach and one to his face. The ridges are there, his fangs are extended. The demon inside is telling him how nice it would be to have that warm blood coursing down his throat, listening to the fast beating of her heart growing slower and slower. Just like old times. Spike shakes his head, willing the ridges to go away. The trials have clearly begun.

He paces, muttering to himself. "If I don't seek her out, I can't be tempted. I know she is on that side of the room, I'll just go over here and stay here." He stomps to the corner and throws himself down, back to the wall. He can hear her breathing, her whimpering. God, her fear is intoxicating. His demon is clawing at his insides. He puts his head in his hands. "I can't kill her. I can't. What would Buffy say? How is she going to love a killer like me? 'Course, I'm already a killer... one more victim can't hurt, right?" Spike throws his head back against the wall and bellows, "Bloody hell! No!" He stays in the corner, twitching. Somehow, Ka has made him feel like he hasn't eaten in days. Of course, maybe he hasn't. No way to know how long he's been out.

Minutes pass. Spike has shoved the demon down and sits quietly. His entire body cries for blood. For strength. For anything but this sitting still in the dark with that girl's heart beating in his brain. It's like a bird's heart, beating twice as fast as a human. "Maybe just a taste? I wouldn't have to kill her..." Spike's demon licks its lips but is quickly squelched. "No, no, no. I can't use her for food. I may not have a soul yet, but I know I can't do that. Tasting innocents is definitely wrong. They're not going to give me a soul if I rip her throat out." The mental image causes his demon to writhe. Spike squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to stop hearing her breathing, feeling her heartbeat. "Sod it all, if Buffy was here, she would keep me away from that girl." Spike leans back again, keeping his eyes shut, thinking of Buffy, picturing her smile, her silken hair in his hands... and growls in frustration as his stomach growls first. "How do they expect a starving vampire to ignore an obvious easy meal?" He stands up and stomps halfway across the room, hearing the girl's heartbeat increase. His game face pushes to the front as he nears the girl, he can almost feel her soft flesh under his hands. He stops. In his mind, that flesh is now Buffy's. Buffy is the girl in the corner, cowering in fear of an animal. He roars and drops to his knees.

He spits out, to whoever, whatever, is listening, "I. am. not. an. animal."

He stays on his knees, struggling for dominance over his base instincts. His earlier thoughts run through his mind... if Buffy was here. He mutters to himself, "What if Buffy was here? What would she be doing if she found this human girl trapped with a vampire. First, she'd bloody well stake the vamp." Spike smiles, despite himself. "Not an option. But then what? She would help the girl. Help her escape, tell her to run." He shakes his head. It can't be that simple. He stands up very slowly. His human face is back in place. And he takes a step closer to the girl. The demon screams for her blood, but he remains calm. Right, simple. Dim light from somewhere above catches her face. She crouches down in the corner. She is young and her brown eyes are wide in terror. Spike's face wavers. Her blood would be so pure, so delicious. No. He smiles at her. She reminds him a little of Dawn, of his little Bit. "Come on now. Stand up." He puts out his hand. She doesn't move. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Her voice rings clear, wavering in the darkness. "You... you're a monster. They told me you were a monster. And not to trust you. They said you would kill me." She tries to make herself smaller, her eyes darting around, looking for possible escape.

"Now, I'm sure that's what you were told. But it's not true. I'm not going to kill you."

"But you ARE a monster." She states it flatly.

Spike's jaw clinches. Bloody bint is not making it easy to rescue her. From himself. "I am a vampire. But I will not hurt you, I swear. I... I am going to help you. We should find a way out of here. I may not be the only thing here wanting to kill you."

She stands up slowly, hands clutching the wall. "See, you do want to kill me." Spike is still several steps away from her and she has yet to see his face.

"Listen. I swear on... on... hell, I don't know what. Just believe me. I could have killed you when I first woke up and I didn't, now did I? I won't hurt you. " His demon is feeling the frustration in Spike and is feeding on it. His face starts to change and his teeth begin to sharpen.

"O-okay. I guess." His face relaxes back into human guise and he moves closer to her. She is going to trust him? His blue eyes are gentle on hers. She smiles a little, eyes still wet with fear. "You don't look like a monster."

"Don't let that fool you. Not all monsters look like the ones in storybooks. Remember that. Now, let's find a way out of this hole." He takes her hand, as he notices a change in the air to his left. "Over here, I think." Her warmth is thrilling. Her scent is coating him. Her blood would taste like... no no no. Spike grits his teeth and drops her hand. "I think there is an opening up there." His night vision serves him well, as he detects a darker area about six feet off the ground.

"How are we going to get up there?" Her voice is shaky, looking around the room. It is so dark in the far corners. Maybe they are not alone.

"I'll jump up and if it's a way out, I'll pull you up... you have a name?" Spike cocks his head at the frail girl standing there, with her arms wrapped around herself. Trying to stop shaking. He thinks perhaps she is in some kind of shock.

"Ye..Yes. It's Sarah."

"Alright, Sarah. Just stay right here while I check it out." Spike turns away and feels a warm hand on his arm. He shivers. It would be better if she didn't touch him.

"Um... what is your name?"

"Spike. Or you can call me William." He is unsure why he said that last bit. Trying not to scare her?

"William is a nice name. Um, William?"

"Yes?" Spike looks at the opening and back at the girl.

"Don't leave me, okay? I... I'm scared." Her eyes are welling up. She looks around her and shakes some more.

"I won't. Just wait here." Spike grimaces at his sympathetic feelings toward this waif. He turns back to the wall and jumps up, grabbing the edge of the opening and pulling himself up into it. He crawls ahead a bit, it does appear to be a tunnel of some sorts. About ten feet in, he feels something scratchy in front of him. A wooden door? He pushes, but it does not budge. He turns around and lies on his back. Kicks the door several times until he hears a crack. Now he can just see out. A hallway. Perfect. He pries the boards away until the opening is big enough for him to get through. He puts his arm through when he has a strange feeling in the back of his head. A twinge. What is that? Sarah. He promised Sarah. But he'll move faster without her... He hears her voice in his head and he growls low and angry. Damn it. He turns and heads back down the tunnel. His blond head pops out of the opening and he hears Sarah gasp.

"Oh, God. I thought you left me here."

"Promised I'd come back, didn't I?" Spike is gruff with her. Doesn't like the role of "hero". Leave that to Angel, Angel and his soddin' soul. Spike sighs. "Reach towards me, Sarah, and I'll pull you up, 'kay?"

She stretches her fingers as close to him as possible. He leans out of the opening a bit and grabs on. Again, the warmth. He can feel the pulse in her wrists as he pulls her up and into the tunnel. He swallows. Awkwardly, they untangle and make their way back to the tunnel. He looks out.

"Looks clear. Let's go." Spike hops out and helps Sarah crawl through the broken boards. They head to the left, sliding slowly along the wall. This place seems like an old dungeon of sorts. They reach a large door made of wooden planks, reinforced with iron. It is standing ajar. Spike pushes it slowly open and they slip inside. The room was an armory of sorts, at one time. He grabs an axe from the rack on the wall and swings it, testing its balance. Sarah shrinks back. "Now, now. Not going to use it on you. Don't know what other beasties are lurkin' about, now do we?" Spike spies a short sword. "Here, take this. Ever held a sword?" Sarah takes it carefully and shakes her head. "Now, you've got to hold onto it. Like this." Spike adjusts her grip, again feeling her tender flesh under his and swears under his breath.

"What's the matter, William?"

"Just a bit thirsty. Not to worry." He stands very still. "We've got bigger things to worry about now."

27. The Trials Continue

A small squeak escapes Sarah. Spike mumbles, "Bollocks. Where the hell did they come from?" His eyes shift right to left, and then he looks over his shoulder, taking a count. Ten vamps in full game face surround them. "Ka's having fun with me, I see. Makes the beasties appear out of nowhere." He yells to the ceiling. "Not playing quite fair, luv!" He pushes Sarah behind him and whispers, "Stay behind me."

She manages to breathe out, "Are... are they vampires?"

"Yes, that they are." Spike's mouth twists into a smirk. "Don' worry. I know just how to handle these types." A few vamps move closer, low growls emanating as they smell the fear on Sarah. "Been itching for a fight, boys. All I've been doing for hours and hours is talking. " Spike mimics them with a growl of his own and stalks closer.

"Tired of talking. "

He launches himself into the air and knocks one vamp down with a spin kick. As Spike lands, he swings the axe and decapitates the next one. Sarah gasps as it explodes into a cloud of dust. Spike has just enough time to realize that she has obviously never seen a vampire dusted before. More move in and Spike punches, kicks and slashes his way through three more. Suddenly, he realizes the warmth of Sarah has moved away. He whips around to see her being dragged away from him by a young, dark-haired vampire, his hand muffling her shrieks. "Oh no, you don't." Spike drops his axe, leaps at the vamp and tackles him, knocking Sarah down in the process. The vampire releases his grip on her and she scrambles a few feet away. Spike and the vamp roll in the dust until Spike finds a broken axe handle on the floor. A smirk plays on his face as he grabs it and surprises the young vamp with a stake to the heart. He finds himself suddenly on the floor when his foe turns to dust. He looks up in time to see another vamp lunging towards Sarah on the floor. She scrambles backwards, but is no match for the vamp's speed. He is on her in one motion and going for her neck. Just as his fangs pierce her skin, her panicked eyes find themselves looking into Spike's. She looks down to find herself covered in the dust that once was her attacker.

"Th...thank you, William."

"Think nothing of it. Just stay here. Use this if you need to."

Spike gives her his makeshift stake and turns to face his remaining foes, flinging his arms wide open. "Come on now, don't be shy. I don't know 'bout you tossers, but I'm having a grand old time." The smell of Sarah's blood from where the vamp lightly pierced her skin awakens Spike's demon. He goes into game face and licks his lips. "Not one of you is having a taste of the girl, so get used to the idea." The four remaining vamps look at each other, and decide for a full frontal attack.

Sarah screams, "Watch out!" as Spike disappears under a pile of undead enemies. The pile is quickly scattered as Spike roars into full strength and stands back up. One vamp is knocked across the room into a wall and slumps to the ground not far from Sarah. Spike snaps up his axe from the floor and quickly separates the nearest vamp's head from its body. He punches a vampire with stringy blond hair while kicking another backwards. Spike snaps the handle on his axe and throws the sharp end right through the heart of the stumbling one.

Finally, he shoves the blond vampire against the far wall. "I said you wouldn't get one drop from her and I meant it." Spike stops and his eyebrow shoots up. 'Hmm, you smell something?" He wrinkles his nose and backs up just as the vamp flares up and burns to a crisp. Spike drops his lighter back in his pocket and turns to check on Sarah across the room. She is staring at him, her mouth hanging open. The vamp he knocked out is lying only a few feet from her, and he is starting to move again. Spike shouts, "Sarah, move!" She snaps out of her stunned state and looks around. Seeing the vamp waking up near her, she looks at the stake she still clutches. Her lips set in grim determination, she raises it above her head with two hands and plunges it into the chest of the vamp, who goes to dust immediately. The stake clatters to the floor as she covers her mouth with both hands.

Spike is by her side within seconds as she starts to cry. He puts his hands on her arms and speaks quietly, "Well done, Sarah. Knew you could take him. Hey now, look at me. S'alright now." She continues to sob and Spike looks a bit lost. Finally, he sighs and pulls her into his arms, holding her like a child waking up from a bad dream. Which is pretty close to the truth. He rocks her gently, whispering "shhh, shhh" into her hair. After a few minutes, Sarah is just sniffling, so he sets her back away from him. "Think we can get out of here now, little one? Don't know 'bout you, but all this dust is making my eyes itch." He smiles at her and is rewarded with a small one in return.

He pulls her to her feet and Sarah kicks at the nearest pile of dust. "Serves you right! Trying to bite me!"

Spike laughs, a deep chuckle. "Didn't you know you were so spunky, bit." An image of Dawn flashes in his head at this endearment and he realizes it's not only Buffy he misses. Misses the kid, the one he thinks of as his own little sis. This girl is just a bit younger, but has that same spark. Sarah wipes her eyes and looks around on the floor. "What are you looking for?"

"My sword. I want it. There!" She grabs it up and Spike can't help but smile. He leans over and picks up his axe, hefting it easily in one hand. He turns to his charge.

"That's a girl. Let's go." Spike leads her to the door and they lean out, checking the hall. They head out to the left as it appears they are alone again. Sarah pulls back slightly and Spike turns to her.

"William?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For saving my life. You... you are a vampire like they were but you killed them all. You could have just let them have me."

Spike shrugs off her praise. "Well now, I was just getting a little attached to you is all. You callin' me a monster and everythin'. Made me positively nostalgic for good old Sunnyhell."

"But I was wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"You're not a monster at all."

Spike stops and looks at her. "That's what I've been trying to tell them, luv." Spike looks at the floor, and says quieter, "That's what I've been trying to tell them." His eyes seem far away for a second, as if he is remembering something from the not-so-distant past. He snaps back to the present and gives Sarah a lopsided smile. "Thanks." He turns and starts down the hall again, gesturing for Sarah to stick close behind him.

28. Retribution

Spike slowly works his way down the hall, listening for who knows what and wondering where he is leading the scared girl shadowing him. Every few steps, her hand grazes his arm. He turns to her, "You know I have no idea where to go, right?"

"Um, well, yes. I suspected."

"How did you end up in that dungeon, anyway? I have an idea how I got there."

"I don't really know. I remember going to sleep in my bed at home and when I woke up, I was there. These voices told me that a monster was coming and that he would kill me. And that he wouldn't look like a monster, but he was evil just the same. And..." Sarah looks off in the distance, letting the words hang in the air. She looks slightly glazed, as if she has not accepted the reality of all that she has seen in the last few hours.

Spike pauses, pulling her into a small room off the hallway. He checks it for other inhabitants. A small window high in the wall casts blue moonlight down on them. "And?"

Sarah continues to look away and then down at the floor. She clears her throat. "And that I should never trust him, even if he tricks me into thinking he is good. That I should kill him.. She looks up, her shimmering brown eyes searching his face "...kill you if I got a chance." She holds her breath.

Spike laughs shortly, startling her. "So, luv, you're just waiting for me to be distracted? Is that it? Not a good idea to tell the enemy your plan, you know."

"I... I think they're wrong, William. Wrong about you. They must have made a mistake. You haven't even touched me if you weren't trying to protect me."

"But what about their warning, 'Don't trust him.'? Other people have made the mistake of trusting me before, Sarah. I'm not to be trusted."

Sarah straightens up, and again, he sees Dawn in her serious face as she studies him, looking for clues in his eyes, his face. "I can see that, William. I see that it was true once. You've got a look in your eyes that I've seen before. My older brother, he made mistakes. He got in big trouble. Something tells me you have been in more trouble and made bigger mistakes, but still... Tom is sorry now. He regrets his past. He is still my big brother. That's what I see in your eyes." Spike hesitates, not sure if he wants to ask the thin girl with these eyes, these eyes that have obviously seen too much, even before tonight.

"I see regret." She smiles shyly at him. "Am I... right?"

Spike leans back against the wall, looking down at the slip of a girl in front of him. Her long straight hair is messed and tangled around her head, her t-shirt and what he now recognizes as flannel pajama pants are wrinkled and dirty. He does not know why they put such painful insight into one so young. His eyes burn as he sees how sad her eyes are. The sadness is buried deep and he is suddenly enraged that the Powers would put her through this night.

"You're crying."

His hand goes to his face and comes back wet. "So I am. Regret. I never felt regret before, Sarah. But this year.. the last few years... it's been creeping into me. At first, it was like a disease to me, a killjoy. I'm a killer. I won't lie to you. I've killed many people in my time on this planet. I don't deserve to be here. I should have died a hundred years ago and saved the world the trouble I've caused."

Her hand with its pink painted fingernails touches his wrist. "Are you sorry for it, William?" A pain shoots up his arm where her hand rests. He flinches.

"It was my way, bit. I was a demon. Still am, though I don't much feel like it or act like it lately. Guilt is a very foreign emotion to me. It makes me queasy and weak and I hate it. Act like a nancy boy, I feel so bad sometimes. " Spike's eyes drop to his feet.

Sarah clutches his arm tighter now, and Spike wonders at the strength of her little hand. "Do you remember everyone you killed, William? All of their faces?"

Spike studies the floor and mumbles. "I think so, but... wait, why are you asking me this?" He lifts his blond head to peer at Sarah. Her questions have turned in some way. Her voice has grown edges. A cloud must be blocking the moonlight, as the room is nearly dark. The light returns and casts its blue light on Sarah's face. Spike gasps. It is no longer Sarah that stands in front of him, but another young girl, this one in a long nightgown. Her dark eyes gaze into him. Her face. Oh god, her face. She pushes her long hair back and he sees the telltale puncture marks on her neck. No. no. no. It can't be. Spike tries to stumble back away from her, but her grip on his arm is too strong. He knows her, knew her the second the light passed over her delicate features.

He killed her.

"No no no no no..." Spike can only say the one word as he struggles with her iron grip on him.

The voice is biting, harsh now. She is maybe 12 years old, but her voice has the pain of ages in it. "Do you remember me, Spike? Remember me, sleeping in my bed when you and that woman snuck in and dragged me out the window? Tore me from my family, my life to play your twisted games? Dragged me through the night, her laughter terrifying me more than anything else? She treated me like one of her dolls, braiding my hair, petting me and talking to me with nonsense words. Finally, she let you kill me so you two could move on to your next victim. Do you remember how I struggled, kicking at you? Do you remember how you didn't even flinch, how you just drained me dry? DO YOU!!?!" Her voice, angry and screeching, reaches its height as Spike crumbles to the ground, his wrist still trapped in her grip, bones crushing. Tears pour out of his blue eyes, his entire face crushed in grief.

The images of Drusilla toying with this girl are vivid. How she stroked her beautiful hair, murmuring. "Pretty doll, pretty. Eyes like stars, she has." Her name. Her name was, is Jessica. Oh God, she was so innocent.

A sudden slap snaps him out of his reverie. His free hand goes to his cheek as he looks up. The steely eyes that greet him belong to a woman, not a girl. She is tall and thin with curly black hair, and she wears a silver evening gown. She scowls at him and he sees the blood on her neck, the drops staining her satin dress. "Look at me, you animal." Her voice is deeper, scratchy. The fury is palpable as she winds up and slaps him harder. His neck snaps back as his memory flashes to her death. In an alley, Dru standing over a man in a dark suit. Him dragging this woman away from her date. His evil smile as he kissed her and then sucked her dry. Leaving their bodies in a heap. The blood pooling beneath them. He never knew her name. "You never gave me a chance to fight. Never gave a thought to my life, you bastard!" She releases his wrist and backs up. Spike's hands drop to the floor, limp. He looks up at her and tries to speak, tries to find words. Suddenly, his face explodes in pain, his cheek splits as her foot connects with a soundly placed kick. He falls backwards, cracking his head on the stone floor. Stars swim in front of his eyes.

He feels a presence above him and opens his eyes slowly. "I.. I'm sor...." His voice cuts out as a booted foot lands on his throat, pushing down hard. A young man stands above him, sneering. "Not so tough now, eh?" He leans down, bringing his face closer to Spike's. "I was young, you fuckin' wanker. I never got to even find out about life 'fore you took it." The man's clothing and accent show him to be one of Spike's earlier victims. When he was the most foolhardy and cruel. Blood stains his throat, his arms. He brings his fist back and punches Spike in the eye, bloodying the skin below it. Again and again, he punches him. Spike never fights back, tears still running down his face. Regret is not a big enough word for the feeling that swallows him as his body is beaten.

* * *

Hours, days, weeks later, Spike lies in an awkward mess of blood and limbs. He has no idea how many of his victims have been through this room or how long he has been here, taking their punishment. He tried everything, apologizing, crying, begging for forgiveness and they continued to torment him with their words, their fists, their every bit of anger and bitterness. He long ago gave in to them, absorbing it all. He now understands the extent of the helplessness his victims felt. He cannot move, his face is smashed nearly beyond recognition, his blond hair stained red by his blood. He snorts, and then winces in pain. It's not even his own blood. Blood he drank, pig's blood. He doesn't have any blood of his own. It is quiet in the room. No one stands over him or kicks him or screams at him. The silence is deafening. The moonlight is casting shadows on his nearly naked body, his clothes ripped from him by angry fingers, scratching the skin underneath.

He hears the door creak open slowly and he lies still, bracing himself for more. He still has no interest in fighting back. He has come to realize he can never accept enough punishment to atone for his past deeds. The soft padding of bare feet approaches him from across the room. He tries to open his eyes, but they are swollen shut. He can hear the breathing, the heart beat of someone drawing closer. It sounds like they stop by his side and a rustle of clothing tells him they have kneeled down next to him. A small voice breaks the silence, "William?"

Spike's lips are split and bloody, but he croaks out a name, "Sarah?"

"Are you sorry now?" Her voice is flat, without inflection.

The girl he protected, the one he allowed himself to worry about. She must hate him now, too. From a well he thought was long dry, fresh tears rise to the surface.

"Oh god, yes. Yes." His voice is cracked, barely recognizable, devastated by emotion. He tenses, waiting for her blow to land. She certainly has her chance to kill him now, as the voices predicted.

Instead, a soft warm hand reaches out and strokes his hair, sticky with blood.

"I believe you."

29. Back to Buffy

Meanwhile...

Buffy's House, 7 p.m.

I hesitate on the stairs, thinking about having dinner tonight. I hear the voices of my friends in the dining room. I slip down the stairs so I can just peek in on them. The subject is me, again.

"Is she coming down to eat tonight or what? Goddess, she's getting so thin." Willow sighed, pushing her fork around in the mashed potatoes on her plate.

"Huh, you're one to talk. You're barely eating yourself."

"Dawnie, you know I'm just worried."

"We all are, Will. She just sits up there all the time when she's not patrolling. Not really lovin' the Angsty Buffy action figure." Dawn takes a last drink from her glass of milk and starts to clear the table. "But what can we do? We can't just make him re-appear." She sits back down and gives Willow a pointed look. "Or can we?"

Willow laughs nervously and casts her green eyes over to Tara, who steps in, "Now, Dawn, honey. I don't know if that's such a good idea." Tara looks back and forth between the two girls, her lover and her surrogate little sister. "Willow is trying to cut back."

Willow cuts in, voice a bit shaky, "Yeah, and I don't even know if I could do anything, Dawn. I mean, maybe I could cast a locating spell..." She hesitates and looks at Tara. I know all of their little tiffs lately have been over magic. Too much of it, for the wrong reasons. I hear them in the other room when their voices rise. 'But it's probably not a good idea."

I can't stand it. It's been six weeks since he walked out of my life on that chill morning and they are debating whether it's a "good idea" to find him. My love. I let out a small noise of frustration and stomp back up the stairs. I hear them calling after me.

"Buffy? Buffy!!" Willow is at the bottom of the stairs. I keep going, turn the corner to my room and slam the door. Slayer strength, I always forget. The doorframe rattles and several trinkets in my room tip off their shelves. I lock the door and throw myself back onto my bed. My little island. I wasn't that hungry, anyway. I close the book beside me on the bed and toss it on the bedside table, just as I hear quiet knocking on the door.

"Uh, Buffy?" It's Dawn. I feel bad for not spending much time with her lately, but I'm just so sad. I'm better at being alone when I am this way. Besides, her chatter interrupts my angst-y songs.

"Dawn, I just need to be alone, ok? I'll come talk to you later, I promise."

"Buffy, are you sure? I'm sorry if we upset you. We're just worried." About me. It's unspoken, but I know it. My worry has nothing to do with me. It's all for him.

"Me too, sweetie. I'll come by and tuck you in later, 'kay?"

"Fine." I can tell she hesitates outside the door for a minute. She must be worried if she let me mention "tucking her in" without whining about being too old for that stuff. I hit the button on my CD player remote and resume listening to my song du jour.

"...Now that you're gone things will never be the same again.
There's not a minute that goes by every hour of every day
You're such a part of me
But I just pulled away
Well, I'm not the same girl you used to know
I wish I said the words I never showed..."

I clutch my pillow to my chest and lie back on the bed. God, this song just kills me. It could have been written for me. And Spike.

"I know you had to go away
I died just a little, and I feel it now
You're the one I need
I believe that I would cry just a little
Just to have you back now
Here with me...."

The tears flow easily as I think of how it would be if he just swaggered in that door. Reminding me of why I love him with those deep blue eyes...

"I never will forget that look upon your face
How you turned away and left without a trace
But I understand that you did what you had to do. .."

I sigh. The look in those beautiful eyes on our last night was so pained, so tormented. How could I let him suffer like that? Why? What was I so afraid of? Stupid scaredy Buffy. Kills demons and stakes vamps, but is scared of a little love? I punch the pillow in frustration. Time to kill something evil and make me feel better. I stand up, tuck my favorite stake in my waistband, pull on my boots and punch the button on the CD player as I stride by, silencing the words that dredge up so many painful memories. I fly down the stairs and past the crew in the living room now. They jump. "Going patrolling. Be back in a little bit." Out the door before they can get any words out.

I run down the street, heading for the cemetery. I don't want to be followed by their questioning words and faces. I reach the gate of the cemetery... His cemetery... and let a little smile cross my face. I take a deep breath and I smell wet grass and freshly turned earth. Smells I know. Smells I've come to know intimately in the six years I've walked these grounds. Smells that recently have meant a release for all my frustration and despair. I pull the stake out of my waistband and start walking. Ironic that killing vamps helps me feel better about missing my vampire love. Of course, nothing about our relationship makes sense, so why should this? I hear a noise behind me, a twig snapping. The smile returns to my face. I keep walking, acting like I heard nothing. He's coming up behind me now. Just as my slayer sense tells me he is within a few feet, I spin into action, knocking him flat with a twirling kick to the head. The newly risen vamp's burial suit is still covered in the dirt of his grave.

"You might as well just toss those clothes, mister. Grave dirt is really hard to get out of fine fabrics. Listen to me on this one, I know." As he opens his mouth to answer me, I jump on top of him and drive the stake home. "Oh never mind. Laundry's not really an issue anymore, I guess." I look down at my now dusty tank top and mutter, "Not for you, anyway." I wipe myself off and resume patrol. One down, untold numbers to go... One more night to fill with purpose as I wait for him to re-appear. Re-appear. The conversation I overheard at home comes back to me. Could Willow really make him re-appear? Or at least find him? I feel so stupid for not thinking of it earlier. I was just basking in my misery and not exactly being pro-active Buffy lately. But can I ask her to do this? I know about the magic issues she's having. Could one spell really be that bad? As I decide to call off patrolling early and head home, the real reason I hadn't asked Willow to find him slips into my head. I'm afraid she won't be able to find a trace of him. That he's met his end out there somewhere. That truth would just about do me in. Without that knowledge, I can just hope for the best. It's been long enough, though. I tuck the stake away and increase my pace back towards Revello Drive. This can't wait anymore. I need to know. Now.

(Author's Note: The song is by Michelle Branch, titled "Here with Me")

30. Searching...

I fly through the door less than half an hour after leaving, startling the inhabitants of the living room again. I swear, they're a pretty jumpy bunch. Guess living in Sunnydale can do that to you. I stand in front of the couch, blocking the TV.

"Willow." I lock eyes with my dear friend.

She swallows. I've barely spoken since my declaration of love for Spike and I can tell she's nervous. "Uh, yes, Buffy?"

"I need your help."

She sits up straighter. "Of course, Buffy. What can I do? Should I warm up the leftover chicken? Hungry from the slaying?" She starts to get up.

"Right, uh, help me in the kitchen. I'm starved. Yum yum." I rub my stomach, looking back and forth between Dawn and Tara. They are studying me like some kind of lab specimen. Guess my behavior has been seriously of the weird lately. I gesture for Will to follow and we head for the kitchen. I see Tara and Dawn exchange a look as Willow quickly gets up and trails me.

She heads right for the fridge, opens the door. "We've got some chicken breast left... and..." I gently close the door. Willow stands still for a second and then turns to me. "We're not here for snacks, are we?" I swear, I think I'm making her sweat. What kind of look is on my face? She slowly sinks down into one of the bar stools. "What is it, Buffy? You're giving me the major wiggins."

I stand across the kitchen island from her, eyes locked. "Will, you know how I feel about Spike."

She nods.

"I love him. I love him more than... more than I thought I could. I want him back. He left because I didn't love him, but I do. I do. What if he's out there getting beat up or... or... or worse on my account." Slow tears are running down my cheeks and Willow reaches across the counter to take my hands.

"Oh Buffy." Her eyes are shining. She hates to see me suffer. Still hasn't gotten over her guilt about taking me from Heaven.

"We have to find him. I want it all to stop. The crying fits and the lonely Buffy in her bedroom. I want him. Right here." I jab the counter for emphasis.

"On the counter? Buffy!" She opens her eyes in pretend shock at my suggestion. I can't help but laugh through the tears. "I had no idea the naughties involved unsuspecting kitchen surfaces!" Her smile is a balm on my wounds. The old Willow. Happy, quirky best-friend Willow. So glad to see her visit, hope she stays.

"Out of the gutter, young lady." I waggle my finger at her disapprovingly. Funny how nice it is to laugh when you are devastated. Takes the edge off in a most inappropriate way. I let my mouth settle back into a line and look at her, more serious.

"Will you find him for me?"

Willow settles down from her giggles as the air grows thick again with my need. "Are you asking me to do a spell, Buff?" She seems nervous, but also something else. Proud?

"Would you? I have to know if he's still alive. Well, you know, not of the dusty variety." My eyes plead with her. I hate to put her on the spot, but I need that Willow. The one who comes through with the big answer when you need it. Boy, do I need it.

Her eyes dart back towards the living room, hearing Tara's laugh over something she and Dawn are watching. "Buffy, just once, okay? I think this is a good reason for me to use magic, it's just that we've been... y'know..." she gestures weakly toward the laughter.

"I know, sweetie. We should tell her. I don't want to cause any bad vibes between you two."

She nods, swallowing. "Tara?" She calls, a little too quietly to actually be heard. "Tara?" A little louder, and Tara answers.

"Yes?"

"Can you come in here for a sec, sweetie?"

I see her lightly graze Dawn's hair, whispering something to her before coming to us in the kitchen. She looks back and forth between us, sensing the emotion. Her hand rests lightly on Willow's shoulder, a gesture so simple and intimate. I want that with someone, preferably a particularly delicious blond vampire. I shake my head, I'm so easily distracted. I look up at Tara since Will has apparently swallowed her own tongue. "Tara, I've asked Will to do a simple locating spell for Spike. Will you help?" She pauses, looking down at Willow. Her gestures indicate she is really worried about Willow. I'm not exactly sure why, but I guess she has her reasons. Willow is getting pretty handy with the spells. I continue, trying to break the awkwardness, "I was thinking you could do it together? For the extra double wicca boost?" I smile brightly at the pair. Neither can help it. They giggle at me.

"You haven't smiled like that in weeks, Buffy. Still, I know you are serious or you wouldn't ask." Tara runs her hand through Willow's red hair, looking into her lover's eyes. "Are you up for it?"

"You know it." Will smiles and I want to jump up and down. They're going to find him for me. Yay me! Everyone off the playground, Buffy's on the mood swing again. Up, down, up. I shake my head. Must get stable. Must get Spikey. I smirk. I look up and realize they may have been talking to me just now, as both witches are looking at me expectantly.

"Oh! Uh, what did I miss?"

"Whew. Good thing I haven't been reading thoughts lately, Buffy. I'm blushing just looking at ya." Willow stands up and waves me after her. "No time like the present, right? Upstairs, I think." We start to parade up the stairs. Halfway up, I hear a voice.

"Where are you guys going?" I turn and Dawn is standing at the bottom of the steps, hands on hips, eyes sparking a bit.

"Just up here."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, duh, Buffy. But why?" She claps her hands as the possibility strikes her. "Are you doing magicks?" She starts to scramble up the stairs. My looks stops her. "What? Oh come on, please?"

I look at Tara and Will. "What do you think?"

"Well, it's a pretty simple spell, Bu..Buffy. I guess it wouldn't hurt for her to be exposed to it." Tara smiles down at Dawn.

I stare down at my sister. She is getting taller every day, I swear. And older. I sigh. "Okay, come on." She starts to squeak in excitement. "But, not a WORD during the spell, you got it?" Again with the eye roll. Those things are going to detach one of these days.

"Okay, okay. I'll be quiet." She flies by us and heads for Will and Tara's room. By the time we arrive, she is perched in a chair by the window, trying to contain her excitement. I would think magic would freak her out after that spell to bring Mom back, but she is back into it. I glance at Tara. I think their friendship has helped her see its good qualities.

"Where should I be, Willow?" She and Tara are placing a semi-circle of white candles around the bed.

She straightens up. "Actually, Buffy, what we need is something of Spike's? Do you... have anything?" Her brow furrows, she assumes I don't since I was never that sentimental with him before.

I stand still for a second. "Um, yes." I head back to my room and go to the bed. I keep the letter under my pillow. But no, I don't really want to share it. It's really mine, not his now... The closet. There it is, right where I left it. I pull the black shirt out I came home in that morning. That horrible morning. I pull the fabric to my nose and inhale deeply. His scent is fading, but I still pick up a whiff of him. Dark and sensual, it goes straight to my knees. Reluctantly, I drop the shirt from my face and take it to them in the other room. When I get back, the candles are lit and Tara and Willow face each other, Indian-style, on the bed. "Where?" I hold out the shirt and Will takes it, laying it between them. She and Tara have already shifted into some other zone, so I just back away, leaning against the dresser.

Tara starts the chant. Words in some lost language. Willow joins in and I feel the air in the room growing more electric. My hair starts to whip around my face and I notice the same of everyone else. Dawn's eyes are wide as saucers as the wind in the room picks up, swirling the gauzy curtains and tipping over small knick knacks. The two wicca are staring into each other's eyes as their hands reach down to touch the shirt between them. A hum fills the room as their chanting grows faster and more unintelligible to me. I forgot how unnerving the magic can be. Just then, they pick up the shirt together and then touch hands. A bolt of white light shoots up at the ceiling and both their heads throw back. And just like that, it's over. The room goes still.

They slowly break their grip on each other's hands, but not on each other's eyes. My eyes dart back and forth between their faces, searching for something. When Tara finally looks at me, I don't like it. It is not the something I want to see. She reaches out to me, but I back away, my eyes growing wide, my head shaking. "Sweetie..."

"No! NO!" I back towards the door. It can't be.

Willow speaks quietly, "We couldn't find him, Buffy. I... I think he's gone."

31. And searching...

"Buffy! Wait!" Willow jumps up, grabbing my arm before I can escape the room. Suddenly, the smell of incense and candles is nauseating. I feel dizzy. This can't be happening. It's too warm in here. I think... I think... am I going to faint? I don't faint... I'm Buf..... * thunk *

* * *

Sometime later...

"Ohhhhh..." I moan, trying to swim out of unconsciousness. Out of dreams, nightmares... I'm in my bed, I think...but why? What... oh. Oh God. A fractured cry escapes my mouth and I hear something move in the room. It's Willow. I open my eyes and I see that Willow is in a chair next to my bed. She looks startled by my outcry. "Will?" My voice cracks like I haven't spoken in days.

She comes and sits on the edge of the bed. "I'm here, Buffy. You were scaring us." Her cool hand brushes the hair out of my eyes. "You were out for awhile and then you started tossing and turning, but wouldn't wake up. Dawn and Tara went to bed after I promised to wake them if you came to. Bad dreams?"

I nod. I can't even remember passing out. I can't remember EVER passing out before tonight. "The worst. Is he really... gone, Will? He can't be..."

She hesitates. "Will?" I struggle to sit up. Why won't she make eye contact with me? "Will." Her eyes dart at mine and I see it. She is hiding something from me. I've known Willow for six years and she has never been able to hide anything from me. Terrible liar. Her eyebrows knit together and I know there is more. I pull her arm and she takes a deep breath, turns to face me.

" I... don't know, Buffy. He could be, but that spell... the one I did with Tara... it is... well, limited."

"What do you mean, limited? It didn't look everywhere??" I can't decide if it's panic or hope that is welling up inside me.

Willow looks over her shoulder at my door, which is slightly ajar. She puts her finger to her lips and heads for the door. After gently closing it til we hear the lock click, she comes back to the bed. "Buffy. That spell was powerful, yes. It searched very far and wide." She checks over her shoulder again, making sure the door is closed.

"There is another spell, though. One that checks under all the rocks, you might say. It's darker. It's, well, it's dangerous. But if that spell doesn't find him, nothing will. It will check the places that humans do not go. That humans cannot go."

I am trying to absorb what Will is telling me. I don't know if it's the fog of just waking up or the unnerving calm that has taken her over, but I am scared by her words. "Dangerous? Why ? Tell me what you are talking about, Willow."

"It's okay, Buffy. Stay calm, I will. The spell Tara and I did, it basically throws out a web. We use the essence we absorb from the item, the shirt in this case, to guide it. When we pull the web back, it brings back the location of the source of the essence. It's not an exact thing, but it would tell if he was out there and whether he was near or very far. We didn't feel anything in the web. Came back empty."

I am so not liking where she is going with this. I start to open my mouth, tears threatening. She holds up her hand, effectively silencing me.

"Wait. Let me finish. But there are reasons we may not find him with that spell. And steps to take to search farther, steps Tara may not even know about or...want to know about. I've read about these kinds of spells, where you use something stronger to search with, more than just an item of the person... more worm on the hook, sort of." She stops. "Something the missing person truly loved."

I freeze. Me? She means me. "Let me get this straight, Will. You want to do a spell in which something Spike truly loves acts as, like, cosmic bait?"

"Exactly." She studies my face, obviously searching for my reaction. " I mean you, of course."

"Yeah. I figured. I guess there's a downside to this?"

"Not necessarily, but there is risk. If I do the spell, I have to kind of channel your essence and use it to search with. It becomes... you become the web. If he is out there, the tie between you should be strong enough to find him, to... latch on. And when I pull the web back - pull you back - we will know if he was there."

"Willow, I've known you for a long time. And you're majorly no good at hiding things. And you are so stalling. What is the danger, exactly?"

She looks down and studies her hands. "I... could lose you... your essence... if I'm not strong enough to get you back. I have to kind of send it out there, " She makes a wide, sweeping gesture. "to look for him. It will call to him. So if he's weak or lost or even in some kind of alternate dimension - which can happen, hello, remember vamp Willow? - we will get a... 'signal.' I'm sorry, Buffy, but magic is not a science. There are very few hard and fast facts. Very few things that are simple. If it all works, I'll feel him. The way I feel him will tell me if he is near or distant, but that's about it."

"But it will tell if you if he's still kicking, right? Still out there being Spike?" I know I am out of my mind, but I want to do this. I can't stand the not knowing any longer. A red light flashes in my head. Lose me? She definitely said she could lose me. "What do you mean you could lose me? You mean, like, poof, I'm gonesville?"

"It won't happen, Buffy. I'm strong enough. I know I am." She sets her shoulders and firms her mouth into a tough line.

I look at my red-haired friend, assessing her objectively. Recently, I've felt it... there is a certain *something* about her. Power? I think it is power. This must be what is freaking out Tara. But wait, "Is there danger to you, Will?"

Her eyes leave mine, gazing out the window into the dark. All of a sudden, she looks older to me. Kind of otherworldly. "I have to tap back into a deeper power, Buffy. And I have to do it alone. Without Tara." She comes back to me, her eyes re-focusing. "I'm not scared, though. I can definitely handle it. In the great scheme of things, this is no big. I won't even need to amplify my powers with anything. I can work this, Buff. Trust me."

I wonder at this girl in front of me. The girl who didn't want to be the "big gun" in our battle against Glory. But she was. She always comes through, always. I do trust her. With my life. Guess I have to in order to agree to this, huh? I also see why we can't bring Tara into this one.

"I do, Will. I'm ready. Are you ready?"

"Absolutely. Not here, though. We can't be interrupted during the spell or it could go haywire. So... where?"

I ponder the possibilities. Somewhere quiet, no distractions, but pretty safe. Got it. "Spike's crypt."

"Perfect, I've got what I need for it in my bag. Let's go." We slowly slip out of the house. I'm not sure if Willow casts a spell to keep Dawn and Tara sleeping and I don't ask. Best not to know. We start walking down the empty street, crossing from darkness to pool of light and back again as we pass under the streetlights. I look up at the moon. I can tell it is not even midnight yet. At least I wasn't out _that_ long. Willow is very quiet. I glance over at her. "You sure about this?"

She doesn't break stride. "Yep." Her answer does not invite discussion. We quickly reach Spike's crypt and I pause at the door. "Is it locked?"

"No, I'm just... it's not easy to go in here. I've only been back a few times since... and it's a bit too weird. But, in we go..." I push the door open and we head downstairs. I don't look around too much, so as not to awaken memories.

Will quietly goes about her work, setting out a circle of red candles. Weren't the other ones white? I try not to think about it too much. Once they are lit, she finally looks at me again as she stands in the center of the circle. "Ready?" She smiles and I see her sweetness. But there is no forgetting she is a witch, big time, and this is serious business. I step slowly forward and enter the circle, facing her. I nod once. She takes ahold of me by the upper arms and drops her head. First, it is very quiet but then I realize she is... talking? I don't know if she is actually speaking, but there is a sound coming from her. Her grip on my arms is tightening. The air in the room is starting to spark. Suddenly, her head snaps up and her eyes meet mine. Only her wide green eyes have been replaced by black. Before I can react, she is inside me with those eyes. I feel a queasy feeling in my gut and start to feel my knees buckle. She holds me up, not with her arms, but with those eyes. I am lost in them.

Suddenly, I am on the floor and Willow is there with me. We are both on our knees and she still has my arms in a death grip. I look around. Most of the candles are half-burnt. "What the..?? How many times am I going to black out today? This can't be good for a girl...." I look back at Willow. Her eyes are green again, but there are dark circles under them. She is exhausted. I can't tell what happened exactly, but I guess it's over. I feel like I dreamed about him. Is that even possible? I look down at myself. Still here, one Slayer, fully intact. "Willow?"

She blinks rapidly, seeming to come out of a trance of some kind. Finally, her grip on my arms releases. Her hands fall to her knees. "Buffy? Whoa. That was something.... you okay?"

"Yes. So...?"

She smiles. Oh God, she is smiling. My heart rate triples. I reach over and clutch her hands.

"He's out there. It wasn't easy, Buffy. He's somewhere... somewhere strange. It's why we didn't find him before. He's gotten involved with something not of this world. And I don't know where he is, exactly, but I found him. I found him!"

I pull her to me and hug her as hard as I can. She squeaks, "Buffy! Ribs!" I let go, but I can't seem to stop laughing and crying. I only heard the last three words, really. She found him. He's alive. Well, as alive as he gets, anyway....

32. End of the trials

Meanwhile...

It's dark. His eyes drift open slowly, but the darkness is nearly complete and he can't make anything out. He thinks about sitting up, but the waves of nausea force him back to the ground. Wait, he's not on the ground anymore... it's softer. A bed of some kind? Before he can guess where he is or why, he drifts away again. His dreams have been strange and disturbing lately, but they are at least a respite from the pain of broken bones and internal injury.

This dream seems different. Something is reaching for him, seeking him... long black threads whipping around, looking for something to latch onto. He cowers a bit, hoping to avoid them. Then he feels it... feels her. Buffy? The idea of her is soothing, he wishes it was real. Her presence is very strong in the dream, the black threads form into her fingers as they run down his body. One word slips out, "Spike." He tries to react, but he has little strength. He raises one hand to meet hers and then, as quickly as she arrived, she is gone. He is alone. In the dark.

Spike awakes in a cold sweat. More alert than the last time he awoke. The dream of Buffy was so vivid, so very real he has to look around to make sure she is not in the room. Hmm. This room. It is not where he blacked out with little Sarah being so gentle to him. He can just make out the walls of the room, covered in some kind of fabric, nearly black. Part of the reason the room seems so dark. That, and the lack of windows. Awfully considerate of whoever brought him here. Spike pulls himself up on his elbows on the bed. He is lying naked under a soft cotton sheet. He looks down at his battered body. Most of the visible wounds are healed, just the internal ones are still knitting back together. He looks around the room, something is very odd about this space. Finally, it hits him.

There are no doors. None visible anyway. He shakes his head, trying to focus. No doors? Must be Ka'jiin at work. She who needs no doors. He chuckles.

"Good to hear you laugh, William." He jumps. And then regrets it, holding his side where the ribs still ache. He turns toward the voice to see Ka'jiin standing at the foot of his bed.

"Bugger all, Ka. You scared the living hell out of me. Can't you wear a bell or somethin'?"

"I am glad that the suffering has not damaged your spirit, William. Many others could not survive their own past."

"I'm not like the others."

"Indeed. One of the reasons I elected to help you."

"If this is how I feel after you've helped me, remind me never to get you right pissed, luv." He scoots up to sit against the headboard, wincing all the way.

"Let us discuss the trials. When you awoke in the room with Sarah, what was your first instinct?"

"To drink. I was so hungry. And I knew I could since you knocked out the chip."

"What prevented you from feeding on her?"

"Dunno. Reckon I felt sorry for the bit. Knew it wasn't right to eat her, so defenseless and all."

"You ignored your own hunger and craving for blood because you felt it was the wrong thing to do? You wished to preserve her life?" Again, she asks questions she knows the answers to.

"Yeah, go figure, luv."

"When you escaped the room, you took Sarah with you. Would it not have been easier if you left her?"

"True, true. But she was right terrified. I couldn't just leave her there. Made a promise to her."

Did Ka smile? Couldn't be. "And against the vampires. You did not let them kill her."

"Couldn't have her myself, not giving her up to some group of wankers that wanders in."

"You fought admirably, William. You saved her several times with no thought to your own risk."

Spike nods. Her praise is unsettling. He is more accustomed to insults.

"And the last, William. There was the true test. All those people and their hate, their anger. You do realize you could have fought back at any time? Prevented the suffering? Naturally, you would have failed the test, but you would have saved your body and mind the pain."

Spike looks directly into Ka'jiin's planetary eyes. "Ka, I thought I was bloody well clear when I met you. Didn't come to fail. Besides, I deserved it. All of it. And more."

Ka clasps her hands in front of her, nodding slowly before regaining his soft blue eyes with her hard silver ones.

"William, in your first trial, you battled yourself. And won.

In the second trial, you battled others. And won.

But in the last trial, you had to be stronger than ever to survive. Because the only way to win was not to fight at all. Rather, you had to accept your past. To grieve your sins. To seek mercy from those who had no call to offer it. To suffer as you made others suffer. And by surviving, by not fighting back, by feeling sorrow, by craving forgiveness, you won."

Spike grows uncomfortable under her gaze. "...so, I get the soul, then?"

"William, as you may remember before we started this process, I told you that surviving the trials would be required, but that there would then be one more step before your soul was granted. You must now face this last step. The last condition for your soul."

Spike sighs. "And what's that, luv?"

"The Chosen One... your chosen one... must love you. If she can see the man inside the monster, I will bring that man forward and bury the monster. I will grant your soul."

"Bloody hell."

33. Ka'jiin's farewell

"Love me?! That's why I came here in the first place, Ka!" Spike struggles to stand up and face the blue-skinned creature, but is forced to sit back down on the bed, clutching his ribs. He looks up at her from beneath angry brows, and grinds out, "She can't bleedin' love me without a soul. She said that to me when I left. It was why I left! Now you want me to toddle home and ask her to change her mind? Have you ever MET Buffy?!!"

Ka'jiin stands silently, gazing down on Spike with implacable eyes. "Are you finished, William?"

He scowls at her. While he is not really finished, he decides not to push his luck with the powerful Ka. He nods.

"Very well. I have observed you throughout your trials. I have also observed The Chosen One."

"You've been watching Buf-" Ka raises her hand and his words die in his throat. He swallows. She is powerful.

"As I was saying, I have observed The Chosen One. I have visited her mind and heart, seen her past and present. She is a noble warrior. She is indeed capable of great love. But while she battles the spawn of evil every night and has faced numerous apocalypses, she has one great fear. It is love. How do you know her words to you were not born out of this fear? She has suffered loss and betrayal and much of it has been at the hands of love."

Spike raises his hand, seeking permission to speak. Ka'jiin pauses, blinks and he regains his speech. "But, Ka, I promised her I would not return until I was better. I promised to change. I can't go back just like I left, a soulless thing."

"You believe you have not changed through these trials? Are you a fool, William? You came to me with a spark of humanity building inside you. Your love for Buffy fueled this spark and now that you have faced these trials, that spark is a raging fire within you. How can you say you have not changed? You have done what many consider impossible. You have struggled and fought against your demon nature to be better without the benefit of a soul to guide you. How many vampires without souls would have spared Sarah? Or not sacrificed her to his fellow vampires to save himself? How many would have allowed countless humans to unleash their rage on him and feel grief at past deeds?

You must help The Chosen One with her struggle now. When you left her, she feared the power of the love you bore for her. She retreated from it. She must now recognize your struggle to be good. She must accept you as you are, for a soul is not a cure-all. It will guide you in decisions and help you overcome your demon more easily, but it is not a salve for all wounds. It alone will not make her love you. Her love must exist before it does.

Her place in this world is larger than even she realizes. With your help and your love, her quest will be strengthened beyond measure. You have acted as a souled being for some time, William. Let her see this. Be brave as you have been these last few weeks.

She needs you."

Spike stares at Ka in disbelief. "Needs me? Didn't seem that way when I was there."

"It is not always easy to recognize the need for someone until that someone is gone, William. She feels your absence."

"How do you..? Oh right, been watchin' her. She alright?" His brows knit together in concern.

"She is alive, William. To learn more, you must return."

Despite his anxiousness to see Buffy again, Spike is suddenly nervous about walking back into her life. "What if she hates me for leaving, Ka? I told her I would, but I'm not sure she believed I would walk out..."

"You are stalling, William. I will not allow it." She lifts one hand of long blue fingers and gestures down his body. "You are healed to your former condition."

"Bloody..." Spike stands up quickly, trying out his newly repaired bones and muscles. "That's a right handy skill to have, luv."

"You cannot tell The Chosen One what I've told you here. She must come to this love freely. You may speak of your trials, but the details of our personal encounters will be... blurred for you. I must protect my identity."

"I won't remember these heart-to-hearts, luv?"

"You will recall the content of them, but not my part. I will construct an alternate memory for you that does not include me. Know this, William. I am the Powers. I have seen many creatures in my time on this planet. You are unlike all others. It has been a true pleasure and I have very few of those."

"Aw, c'mon." If Spike could blush, he would have turned crimson. "Been a right pleasu... wait a bloody minute. Never had one woman cause me this much pain aside from Buffy, Ka! Even so, never have met a bird like you. Reckon I never will again. S'pose I can get a ride back to L.A.? Left my motorcycle at the great poof's."

The tiniest of smiles touches Ka'jiin's face. This vampire before her has shown her the potential of all creatures, good and evil. She will miss him and she does not miss anyone. "Naturally, William. It is time for us to part company. You have fought valiantly. Go forth now."

"Thanks, Ka. For everything, even the aggravation." He nods to her briefly, a sign of respect. She raises both hands and he feels the world tipping on its axis again. "Hate this part..." Everything turns black.

Ka'jiin stands alone in the empty room. With a small smile, she nods to the spot Spike last occupied. A sign of respect for a vampire like no other. Her work nearly completed, Ka and her surroundings vanish in a blinding white light.

34. Seeking

"Soddin'..." Spike comes to in Frank's bar, his head down on the table in front of him. He sits up and looks around, wondering why his sudden appearance did not draw attention. No one pays him any mind and he senses Ka's hand in this trick. He rubs his head, thankful he won't be taking any more of her special trips. He wanders up to the bar, realizing he is starved. Apparently, his hunger for blood was completely controlled by Ka'jiin in the alternate world he has visited for the last few weeks. Now, he needs some of the real stuff, not the mystical kind.

"'Ey mate, something fresh, eh?" Spike allows his game face to flicker across his features as he talks to the bartender, who nods and turns around. He reaches into a fridge and retrieves a clear glass bottle full of dark red liquid. Pours Spike a glass and takes the money he slaps down. Spike sips the liquid and smiles. "Could get used to this. Nicer quality than the butcher's blood back in Sunnyda..." His words fade as he realizes what he is saying.

Sunnydale.

Buffy.

He takes the glass and slams the contents, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaves the bar immediately, his mind locked onto the idea of seeing Buffy soon. It's before midnight, so he should have time to reach Sunnydale before sunup. Thankfully, his motorcycle is right where he left it. Since it has been weeks, he again realizes he has Ka to thank for its presence. He points to the sky, "Nice work there, luv. You think of everything." He hops on and hesitates, "S'pose I could stop by and tell the poof how it went...." He smirks. "Nah. Not over yet, anyway..." Spike kicks the engine to life and peels out down the street, pointed towards Sunnydale. And Buffy.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Sunnydale. The cemetery, 11 p.m.

I really hate waiting. It's been weeks and weeks since Spike disappeared. And here I am, as usual, on patrol. I just can't stand to mope around the house anymore. Gotta keep busy. Gotta keep slaying. And oh look, here's the first lucky contestant of the evening.

"Slayer!" I roll my eyes at the new vamp. Like I've never heard that before.

"Don't you guys even try for originality anymore? It's always, "Slayer!" and then grrr and then a feeble attempt to jump me. I mean, really. Bo-ring." Naturally, this vamp reacts to my constructive criticism by going all grr and running at me. I check my manicure on my left hand as I stake him with my right. This is getting too easy. Nobody's a challenge. In slaying or anything else for that matter. I miss the challenge of Spike. The push and pull, the teasing, the tempting. God, it made me feel so invigorated. So.... alive. How could someone that's been dead for over a hundred years make me feel my blood pumping, my heart racing like never before? Why couldn't I see how good he was for me before he left? I don't have to hide anything from him. He knows me. Knows what I do and why I do it. Oh great, the crying again. You'd think a girl would run out of tears after awhile. I'll just finish this lap before I do what I really came out here for.

After a few more vamps meet their timely ends, I find myself standing here. The scene of the... crime? No... but the scene of so very much. Spike's crypt. I sigh and steel myself. Every night since Willow told me he was still out there somewhere, I've come to his crypt. To the site of our lovemaking. When he first left, it was too raw for me to be here. Now, I find it somehow comforting. I let myself go into the past and relive our moments here, hoping that I won't have to live on the memories forever. They are a sore substitute for the real thing. I sigh and push the door open. I take a deep breath, inhaling the musty scent of earth and... Spike. Everywhere, I turn in this place he called... calls home, I see him, smell him, taste him. His duster, still on the chair near the door where I laid it, waiting for him to walk in and snatch it up. When I see it there each night, I know he is still gone. I finger the black shirt I am wearing - the one I wore home that cold morning. Tonight, I just felt the need to have it on me again. The crisp cotton brushing my skin, the faint scent of him still touching it. It is like a security blanket, one I can wrap myself in. If I close my eyes, I could almost pretend he is there, around me. But he is not.

I slip through the upstairs of the crypt silently, afraid of disturbing... who? The dead? I shake my head. Old force of habit to move quietly. I drop down the stairs and find myself soon standing at the foot of the bed. Untouched since that morning I ran out of here in tears. Rumpled and lovelorn now, the sheets reflect my own disarray since he left.

I kick off my shoes and crawl onto the bed. I cross my legs and sit up at the head of the bed. Finally, I pull the letter from under my shirt, where it has been tucked into the waistband of my jeans at the small of my back. A place he used to love to rest his hand. I sigh. God, Buffy, depressed much? It is worn around the edges even though I've been as careful as I can be with it. Slaying is rough on precious documents and I can see where it got a little bent tonight. I press the pages out on the bed, smoothing them as best I can. And then I read it. Again. For the millionth time. I wonder if he knew I would cling to certain phrases like a life raft.

"...I saw it in your eyes last night, Slayer. For a brief shining moment I thought it was love." I always curse myself at this point. It WAS love, only I was too much of an idiot to realize it. I drove a stake through his heart in all but the literal sense that night.

"...I think I loved you from the day I met you...." I let a smile touch my lips. Love at first sight? But first the required years of trying to kill me, I guess, before he realized it. Welcome to the world of the Slayer.

The section about my death is always the hardest and not for the reasons you might think. I was ready to go - didn't really have that whole death wish thing going on, but I knew it was time. I knew it was the right thing to do. But when I read those words. Oh, it hurts. How he cried, how he wished he could have sacrificed himself for me, how he saved me night after night after night when I was gone. I don't know how I could be so blind. He stayed. He looked after Dawn, put up with the Scoobies and he stayed here. I was dead and there was no reason to think I wouldn't stay that way. And still he stayed. If that isn't enough to show his love... to show that even without a soul, he is better than many humans. Stupid stupid Buffy! I grimace. I berate myself for my prejudice. And that's what it was, prejudice against him. Assuming he could not change, could not strive to be better than he was. Turns out he's different than most vamps. Maybe different than all of them. For the first time, I realize that even without the chip, he probably wouldn't feed. He loves the hunt, but I think he's lost the taste for the kill. The thrill of fighting demons and other vamps fills that void for him. I know that feeling. Skin gets itchy and you can't sit still. Gotta slay.

I snap out of my thoughts and return to the letter in my hands. I realize I am clutching it very tightly. I loosen my grip and continue to read. The words swim in front of me. I've read this letter at least once a day since he left and it doesn't get easier. It makes me sad, happy, furious and frustrated all at the same time. Finally, I get to the end. And there it is...

"I will be back, Buffy." I read it over and over til the words blur together. He will be back. But when?

I lay back on his bed, staring at the rough stone ceiling of the crypt. I sigh deeply and hold the letter above myself, studying it. Not reading it, just looking at it. The slope of the letters, the dark black ink, the crisp parchment paper, the creases and bent corners. I take my left hand and trace the letters gently, picturing him writing these words. It must have been hard for him. He sounds so sad. Mostly my fault, too. I frown, my fingers stilling. I'm really getting tired of waiting for him to return. Tomorrow, I'm going to find him. I drove him out of Sunnydale and I plan to drive him back. But first, tonight, I'm curling up in his bed... for at least a little while.. in his shirt and nothing else. Just him and me, like it should be. I get up and shuck everything else off me, finally crawling under the covers with only his black shirt wrapped around me. I fold the letter back up and tuck it in the envelope. I put it on the pillow where he should be. After a few silent minutes, I feel my lids getting heavier. I rest my hand on the envelope as I slip away into sleep.

* * *

On the road to Sunnydale, 3 a.m.

After a brief pit stop to down his last packet of blood, Spike hops back on the bike. Not much longer now to Sunnydale. His stomach is in knots and it has nothing to do with the slightly less than fresh blood he drank. Seeing Buffy again after almost two months.. or something like that. Time has kind of blurred through Ka's hijinks, but two months seems about right. Spike's brows knit together, wondering if Buffy is still waiting for him. Maybe she thinks he's gone for good this time? Or she just doesn't care? He shakes his head. Can't think thoughts like that. "I bloody well love her enough for both of us. Just gotta make the bird see that."

After ten more silent miles, Spike sees the outskirts of Sunnydale come into view. He skids to a stop at the Welcome to Sunnydale sign. Rather than hit it, he hopes it is true. That he is welcome in Sunnydale. He peels out once more, zeroing in on Revello Drive.

Spike sits on his silent motorcycle across the street from Buffy's house, looking at her window. Somehow, despite the impossibility of it, he is out of breath. He decides he is actually nervous. Scared, even. It's 3:30 in the morning and Buffy's window is dark. "Should I wake her? Maybe not the best way to re-enter her life, making her cranky. But, sod it all, I've got to at least see her." Spike swings his leg off the bike and tucks his hands into his jacket pockets. Not the same as the duster. He strides across her lawn, silent as the moonlight, and shimmies up his tree. Taking another pointless breath, he peers into her dark window. Her bed is made. And she's not in it. Spike leans closer to the window, disbelieving. This is not the way it was supposed to go. He leans back against the trunk of the tree. "Maybe she's asleep downstairs, on the couch. Figures." He hops down from the tree and hesitates at the front porch. The curtains are drawn. "Don't want to wake the whole bleedin' house to see her. Waited this long, guess I can wait til the morning. Slip over to talk to her after the Bit goes to school. Make a break from the sewer and hope she lets me in." He smiles wryly as he pictures the scene. Buffy demanding explanations for why he was gone so long as he slowly burns to a crisp. Spike stares at the front door a few seconds longer and then decides to go with his plan. Except for the crispy part. He returns to his bike and sits there quietly. "Nothing for it but the crypt, I guess. Get a few hours of sleep 'fore I visit her." He starts up the bike and rumbles down the street, heading for his dusty home...

35. Deja vu

Sunnydale Cemetery, 4 a.m.

Spike strides through the cemetery, heading for the crypt he calls home. As he draws nearer, his pace slows slightly. He looks around, wondering why things feel different... the air. He smells the air. "Nah, couldn't be. Why would she be patrolling so late? She musta been by earlier. Just going bloody crazy..." He shakes his head and reaches the front door of the crypt. It's closed. He presses his palm to the door and stops again, remembering the last time he crossed this threshold.

Every step had been torture, leaving Buffy behind in his bed. Warm and sated, she was like a drug to him, calling him back with her languid limbs tangled in the bedsheets as she slept. The letter on the pillow next to her, his words waiting for her to wake. That was the longest night of his life. First, for all the best reasons and then for the most painful reasons. Once he came out of his post-climax stupor, he had lain awake, watching her sleep, wondering if he could really go through it. If he left... would she lump him together with the other lovers that left her? He told her he was leaving, but maybe she didn't believe him. Would it be a shock? Would she even care? Yes, she had looked at him in a way that night he'd never seen. But then again, was he just seeing what he wanted to? He had quietly slipped from the bed to get paper and pen. And he had poured his heart out on that paper. For once, she could not interrupt him, tell him his love wasn't real. She simply slept as he scratched along. And when the letter was done, dawn was only an hour or two off. He had to hurry. But still Spike lingered there, memorizing her face, her position. Golden hair spread on the pillow, sun-kissed arms and legs intertwined with his rumpled sheets. Her peaceful breaths, in and out. He resisted the urge to touch her again, to grab her into his arms and never let go. Instead, when he sensed he had no further time, he got up. Dressing quickly, grabbing a few things and shoving them in a bag, including the shirt she wore that night. The smell was intoxicating. He had to smile as he took it. She would curse him lightly for this transgression. He stood by the bedside, melting the candle wax to seal the envelope. He pulled his seal from the drawer and pressed W into it. A symbol of his former self. As he laid the envelope down, he wondered what she would think of it. Probably think he was a sentimental git to keep something of his humanity all this time. Never made sense to Dru or anyone else that he kept that damn seal. But he did. Spike took it with him this time too as he swiped his cigarettes and smokes from the table. One last look. He gently laid the letter on his empty pillow and before he could stop, gently pressed his lips to her forehead. She stirred slightly and he froze, then pulled back quickly. Nothing. She was still sleeping. Without another look back, Spike silently moved up and out of the crypt. Crossed the cemetery at a run, knowing he had maybe an hour to get out of town on his motorcycle before he would have to find shelter. Only when he reached the bike did he feel the tears racing down his face.

Spike takes his hand from the door, the shock of memory shaking him a bit. "Snap out of it, man. In the past now..." He pushes the door wide open and stands there. Two things strike him immediately. The moonlight pours in and gleams on his duster. It is there, lying across his chair. He cocks his head. Not where he left it. But the second thing, the one that turns his knees to jelly, is the scent on the air. Sunlight and Ivory soap, jasmine and a certain indefinable something.

Buffy.

Spike looks around. No sign of her. Maybe she just came by earlier tonight to check on things? The scent is strong and recent. He steps all the way in and closes the door behind him, plunging him into near darkness. The scent only gets stronger now that the smells of the cemetery are muffled. He lets his fingers drag over the duster, greeting an old friend. Other things call him though. He drops his bag and stalks slowly toward the source of the scent. Below. It is coming from below. Spike's mouth goes dry and he wonders at his... fear? Anxiety? He wants to see her so badly, wants to believe she is here. What if he is hallucinating all this? Why would she be here, in his home? He reaches the opening to the lower floor and again hesitates. He breathes out, "Turned into a bloody ponce. What the hell am I scared of?" He slides down the ladder, facing away from his bed. The power of the scent nearly drops him. This is no hallucination. He turns slowly, time beginning to crawl.

The scene is as he remembers it. Her golden hair splayed on his pillow. Her nearly naked limbs twisted in his bedclothes. The letter on his pillow, her tiny hand touching the edges of it. Spike is frozen in place. Did he never leave? Is this the same night? Was it all some fevered dream? But wait, something's different. The shirt. She's in one of his shirts. And her hair is slightly longer. And god, she's even more beautiful than he remembered.

Spike slips to the dirty ground on his knees, whispers, "She's waiting for me." He wonders if Ka slipped his soul in him when he wasn't paying attention. He's not sure his heart has ever ached this much with love. Hardly seems possible without a soul.

When he is slightly recovered, Spike stands up and moves closer to the bed. He thinks about waking her, looking into her eyes, but decides he wants to save this moment a bit longer. Everything is perfect right now. In slow, smooth motions, he strips himself of his clothes and stands on his side of the bed. He reaches over with a hand that is almost shaking and pulls the letter out from under her fingers, laying it on the bedside table. Her hand slowly withdraws to her own pillow. She stirs, but does not wake. With the grace of a cat, Spike slips into the bed, under the sheets. He can feel her warmth and it calls to him like a Siren's song, drawing him nearer and nearer. Risking all, he takes her hand in his and rests it on his chest, covering it with both of his own. He can feel each finger burning into him and he half expects to find the impression of her hand there in the morning. She makes a small sound, but again does not wake. Spike lets his eyes slip shut, and for the first time in two months, he allows himself a small smile as he drifts to sleep.

36. Reunion

Spike's crypt, 7 a.m.

I am having the best dream. I'm lying in my bed at home, not sleeping, just lying there, wishing for something. Sleep? No. Him. I'm wishing for him, waiting for him.

Spike.

Luckily, this is a dream, so it is not a replay of every night for the last two months. Every night in real life, I toss and turn, watching the moon through the window til it passes out of sight. Hoping he will appear, but somehow knowing he won't. But in this dream, reality does not interfere. And there he is, in my window.

The moonlight silhouettes him and he takes my breath right out of me. He slouches there in his own special way, his body screaming sex. It's a hot night and I'm wearing very little. He slinks his way into my room through the window, but says nothing. I sit up on my elbows and watch him, study him through heavy-lidded eyes. We don't have to talk in my dreams. Prevents fights, simplifies feelings. He is still just a figure in shadow as the moonlight outlines him, but does not reveal his features. His platinum hair catches the light. He reaches down to his waist and slowly pulls his tight black t-shirt over his head. Spike's alabaster skin gleams in the dim light like marble. My eyes rip down his chest. My gaze is so forceful, I'm sure he can feel my eyes traveling down to his sharply defined abs. I look up, but I still can't see his face. He can see mine clearly though, as the light bathes me. I smile at him, drawing him closer. He moves towards me silently and I see that he is barefoot. Only his black jeans, riding low on his hips, conceal the rest of him. I'm hungry for all of his body, but the heat and my lust conspire to keep me motionless, content to let him come to me. I remember the night he left, the way he scaled my body, laying claim to every inch of it. He reaches the foot of my bed and stands at my feet, watching me. I can almost see the gleam in his eyes, the half smile playing on his lips.

As Spike usually does, he reads my mind and reaches for the fly of his jeans. In slow, steady movements, his jeans slide off his frame and he is gloriously naked in front of me. I smile again, in silent appreciation. His hand reaches down and touches my bare foot. I swear there is a hiss as his cool fingers make contact with my superheated skin. I realize the hiss came from me. I can suddenly imagine the heaven of his whole body against mine, bringing down my body temperature in this impenetrable heat. His other hand encases my other foot and I squirm a little. It feels so good.

I half-wonder why his body has not taken on this heat that hangs in the air, but then I decide I don't care. Let someone else worry about the dynamics of vampire temperatures. I've got more important things on my mind. His cool hands slide up my legs and I feel him watching my expression. I still can't quite make out his face, but I feel his gaze. My eyes roll closed as I try to deal with the feelings coursing through me. The goosebumps start to rise on my skin and I shiver. He stops with both hands on my hips and I hold my breath. He is looking at me and finally, I can see him. He is mostly in shadow, but I see those eyes, dark in this light, but warm and searching. I greet them with my own. His lips move to mine and I close my eyes just as they touch. The kiss is like ice cream on a summer day, quenching and decadent. I press my hot palm to his chest and am sure it is branding him, each finger leaving its mark on his pure white skin...

...God, that dream felt so damn real. I can almost feel him, his smooth chest under my warm little hand, each finger trying to claim him as my own. I lay very still, willing the dream to continue, but knowing I have lost it for now. The sensations still run through me and I struggle to consciousness, picturing my hands on him, wishing... I shake my head slightly. I must still be sleeping and I am starting to have really vivid dreams, because it still feels real. The cool skin, the firm chest. Hands encasing mine. Hands? My own hand twitches, testing the reality of this feeling. There are definitely hands wrapped around mine... and mine is... on something cool... stone? No, more pliable. But wait, my hand is moving, and I'm not moving it. Suddenly, there is a cool, moist sensation on the back of my hand.... With a sense of worry and confusion, I dare to open my eyes a touch.

My heart stops, my breathing catches and my eyes widen. He is there, he has my hand in his own and Spike... SPIKE is kissing the back of my hand. His eyes are still closed. I look around, the night coming back to me. I came here to remember that night, to pretend I was in his arms again, to read his letter and I fell asleep here on his bed. A mournful, fitful sleep til my dream started. And now, now... I choke a bit as the emotions tumble over each other trying to reach the surface. He reacts to the noise and the eyes I've dreamt about for two months rest on my own. His eyes of deepest blue, water calm and still. He moves my hand away from his mouth and looks at me. My face betrays my shock at seeing him.

" 'morning, Buffy." He leans over and before I can react, touches his oh-god soft lips to my mouth. I jump as if shocked at his contact and finally snap out of my daze.

I whisper, "Spike?" I sit up a little and turn my head at him. "Are you real?"

And oh, he smiles at me. Those eyes crinkle in the corners. "Very real, pet. See?" He presses my hand back onto his chest, proving his solidity. His head cocks to the side as he studies my expression. I know I am gaping like a fish, but I just can't help it. I've been waiting for him all this time, but I never thought I would wake up in his arms. All the scenarios I imagined were simpler, more straightforward. Should have known better. Spike is never predictable. My mouth twists into a smile as I realize how happy I am with a capital H. Now, it is his turn to look surprised. I realize I don't give him many smiles. Wow, we've got a lot to talk about. If he's changed half as much as I have since he left...

As the seconds tick by, I realize we can't just stare at each other all day. I open my mouth to speak, but I'm at a loss. All the speeches I practiced for when I saw him sound trite and contrived. I clamp it shut again and just look at him. He watches me like a man who hasn't seen water in weeks, and he is drinking me in gulps. I open my mouth again. My eyes drift down to his chest and I see my hand. Seemingly of their own volition, the fingers have intertwined with his and are clasping tightly. This is new. I smile and I hold his hand... and he must be confused beyond all reason. Finally, only the simplest of phrases seems right.

"I missed you." He says it just as I do, our words tumble over each other and I have to laugh. Suddenly, the strangeness lessens and I feel myself grow stronger. My words growing taller in my mouth, fighting their way out. I see him open his mouth again and I shake my head. He stops, looks at me quizzically before falling silent. "Spike. I did miss you. Let me just talk for a minute so I don't lose my nerve, okay?"

He nods, his rumpled hair making me weak. I want to wrap my fingers in it and.... wait, talking here. Buffy, get a grip.

"I'm sorry I drove you away. I was just afraid. I thought about you a lot." I dip my head, a bit shy all of a sudden. "We're talking mega-thinking about Spike." I peek up at him, half-expecting a bit of a taunt or tease from him. I am dead wrong. His face is tender, his eyes soft and welcoming. Something is seriously different about Spike and it's all starting to freak me out a little bit. I sit up, my hand slipping from his. I face him, still wearing his black shirt. The one that makes me feel safe. Safe and loved. I absently stroke the hem of it as I study this... man in the bed with me. "Are... are you okay, Spike? You seem... different. Where did you go? What happened? How did you get back?"

He holds up his hands, asking for mercy and chuckling. "Whoa, luv. One question at a time. There's no rush. First off, you didn't drive me away. I left. It was my decision, so no guilt." He gives me a pointed look, demanding my agreement. I squint my eyes at him a bit, but I nod. This new Spike is so... I don't know yet. It's just a new Spike.

"I've done and seen a lot of things since I left, luv. I will tell you all about them. But first things first." The twinkle in his eyes and the little upward twitch of his lips make my stomach flip flop and the nerve endings in my skin come to life. A smile comes to my lips without my bidding.

"You do things for that black shirt that I never did." Spike reaches up and lets his fingers slide down the edge of the collar. When his fingers skip over the fabric and reach my skin, I shiver. All his fingers come to rest on the skin exposed below my throat. I can feel the pulse there racing. His hand slides up and cradles my chin, my cheek. I lean into his cool palm a little bit. My body responds to him automatically before my mind can process his actions. "Buffy. Love?" I realize my eyes have drifted closed, but his question causes me to open them again. I meet his eyes, the pools swirling and darkening. "We've got a lot of talking to do, I know." Again, I nod. It's like I've forgotten how to speak. His love has struck me mute. His eyes look all around my face, at my hair, my ears, my neck, my shoulders and back to meet my eyes. I'm on my way to a meltdown. "S'pose we could talk later? Bugger all, Buffy. All I've wanted to do is touch you for eight weeks." His quiet words stun me with their quiet ferocity. His thumb strokes my cheek softly and his eyes are intensely focused on mine as he waits for my permission.

My mind races with the hundreds of reasons this is a bad idea. I have no clue where he's been for two months. For all I know, he's chipless and fancy-free. I should tell him how I feel, see how he feels. We should talk. We should really... yeah, talk. Hmm... Let's see, what would he say in this situation? *Bloody well tired of talking.* I smile wickedly, decision made.

In my new silent way of answering questions, I lunge forward, taking Spike's head in both hands and planting a fierce kiss on his mouth. He is slack for a moment, as I have surprised him. I love that. In a split-second, he's recovered and I feel his hands slide into my hair, holding me to him. We slide into each others' arms, and I half expect to hear a click as we fall into place together.

37. Trust

Spike's hands are everywhere, I feel the cool touches soothe my neck, my arms, my hips. I explore the sculpture that is his naked form with my warm grasping hands. I hear my name on his lips as he finds all the hollows and hills of my body as if he is discovering them for the first time. He reaches for the shirt I'm wearing and I fear he will rip it off me in one movement. I still his hands with my own. He hesitates, looking at me, a little... fear, maybe... in his eyes. He wonders if I've changed my mind. I smile, out of breath from our frantic passion, to reassure him. I reach for the buttons and start undoing them. I whisper to his concerned expression, " I like this shirt and I'd like it to stay in one piece."

He chuckles quietly and covers my hands in his. "I'll be gentle, luv. One of my favorite shirts, too." His lopsided smile warms me. Spike's nimble fingers replace mine and work the buttons quickly. His fingertips graze my flesh and I feel a shock run down my spine. The anticipation is driving me crazy. With all buttons undone, Spike's hands move back up to my neck. He places them both on the expanse of skin just above the swell of my chest. He holds them still there, almost as if he is making sure I am real, that he can touch me. Satisfied, his hands begin to gently slide apart, spreading out and pushing the shirt wide open. My head lolls back as his hands move up to my shoulders. He pauses there, his thumbs pressing into my skin. I feel his mouth kissing the hollow of my neck and I can't help but moan deep in my chest. He pushes the shirt further down my arms, pinning them at my sides. I want to touch him but am somehow thrilled that I can't, that he has this brief power over me. Not like the Slayer to give power away like candy at Halloween, but I find I can't help myself. My mind alternates between the mind-numbing sensations coursing through my body and this thought. Finally, one word forces its way to the front of my spinning brain.

Trust.

Dear God, I trust him. "I, Buffy, trust Spike."

Abruptly, all motion stops. I was already immobilized and Spike freezes, hands on my arms and mouth kissing the skin just below my ear. My eyes widen as I realize what happened. I was so rattled and aroused and out of my mind with lust, that I just said that out loud. Just barely, not even a whisper, more of a breath. His vampiric hearing passed the test. He heard me. Spike pulls back a bit, his soft lips leaving my neck, and he tries to meet my eyes. I look down. If possible, I feel more naked now than he is. Not at all true to Buffy form to blurt out such statements. My thoughts dart around in my head, desperately looking for reason, for any reason in what I said. The only one I can find is that I meant it. I just didn't mean to say it, swear it like a solemn oath. I, Buffy, trust Spike. Like a vow. A promise. The reality of my feelings for Spike are multiplied by this realization and the weight of them is nearly paralyzing. The silence in the room as I perform my self-examination is starting to get weird. I muster up my courage and lift my eyes, looking at him through my lashes first and finally straight into those bluest of blues. I try to read what I see in their depths, but it is confusing. I see that my statement has rattled him. Big time. There is undeniably love there, also worry, gratitude and pure unadulterated fear. Fear? Seeing so much fear in Spike's eyes is unsettling to say the least. My eyes shift back and forth, studying his. Also, he's not talking, which I find even more unsettling. Then, it hits me. How could I be so stupid? He's afraid because I don't think he trusts himself. Nobody trusts vampires, he knows this. I've come to him for help, counted on him to protect Dawn, but he knows I've never really trusted him. And by the look in his eyes, the idea of him failing me, of betraying that trust is enormous and terrifying. But maybe there's something else, too. I'm no mind-reader and I have to calm his fears somehow. His arms have dropped away from mine. I shrug the rest of the way out of my shirt and I sit there, fully exposed, wide open to him. He seems unsure of what to do. I reach up to his temple, brushing my fingers there and into his curled up hair. So much nicer loose like this, free. He won't meet my eyes, so I try another route.

" I didn't mean to scare you, Spike. It's true, though." I take one of his hands in mine and press our palms together. He barely reciprocates as his eyes dart away. "What's wrong?" I'm sure this is the first time Spike and I have ever been in bed, completely naked and... talking. Wonders never cease. He straightens up and we face each other.

"Buffy, I have to tell you something." His eyes meet mine briefly, but then drop away again. I still see fear and I don't like it. Where's my Spike, who never would have allowed me to say that I scared him? Would have denied it big time? "You won't like it, I'll wager. But there are extenuating circumstances, so please, luv, don't jump to conclusions." My heart is starting to pump and I'm getting a queasy feeling in my stomach. What is going on?

He takes a very deep, yet completely unneeded breath. He acts so human I forget he no longer is.

"The chip is gone."

Wham. Like I was hit with a sack of hammers, I am knocked flat, completely struck dumb. Without really thinking, I pull back, begin to scramble away from him, a parade of emotions plowing through me. No chip? Is this the old Spike then? Is this what seems different about him? Is he back to kill Buffy and her friends, like old times? Oh God. My throat goes dry at this thought. Have I lost him? My mouth opens and closes, searching for words, searching for reason. He takes my hand in his, but I pull it back. Anger decides to step forward, as it often does in our relationship.

"That is why you left me alone for two months?? To get your CHIP out?!" My voice pitches higher. "But why, Spike, why??"

His anger rises to meet mine like an old sparring partner. "Bloody hell, Slayer! 'S not why I left, not what I was trying to do, it just... happened."

"It just HAPPENED!?" I'm starting to lose control and also be very aware of my nakedness. Hot tears are threatening to course down my cheeks at any second. I begin to struggle to my feet. I have to get out of here. He takes a hold of both my wrists. My eyes meet his, sparks flashing. "Let g-"

"Buffy. Wait." I squirm. His eyes are pleading and his anger is already dissipating. Very unlike Spike. I know I can bust out of his grasp, but there's a large part of me that desperately wants to stay, to hear his explanation, to hope I can believe it. I struggle in a purely token fashion and look at him expectantly. He look slightly surprised that I've tacitly decided to listen. I've changed too.

"Luv, it's not like you think, okay? Didn't ask to have the chip removed, but it's gone. I went to see some mystical types in L.A. and this was one result." I'm skeptical. Why would some magic bigwig just zap Spike's chip? To what end? His words raise more questions than they answer for me.

"Buffy, believe me." My eyebrows are scrunched up as I look at him. He gives my wrists a gentle shake. His eyes plunge into mine and I feel myself go all jelly belly. He speaks slowly and deliberately. "Believe me." I really want to. "I haven't had the chip in weeks. Haven't hunted or fed on any humans. Don't intend to. I think you knew before I left that I've buried that part of me. Can't be the man you want if I'm out hunting defenseless humans for snacks, now can I?"

I finally find my voice again. "Spike, it can't be all about what I want. What if I piss you off - are you going to take that out on an innocent? I mean, hello, you're a vampire!" He sighs. Here we go again.

"There's more to it than that, Buffy. I don't want to anymore."

"Don't want to what?"

"Kill humans. Sure, still want the blood, but I've lost my taste for the kill. Rather protect them like I'm some damn Scooby." I sit and try to process what he's saying. Is it even possible for a vampire to not want to kill humans? After a few moments of tense silence, he speaks again, quietly. "Did you mean it, luv?" He seems very subdued. "Did you?"

"Did I mean what, Spike?" I'm exasperated and upset. I wanted to see Spike, fall back into his arms, not worry about him without a chip. Nothing goes to plan in Sunnydale, I should know that by now.

"Do you trust me?" Oh. Did I mean that.... I did. God help me, I did. It was right there in my head, carved in stone like a truth of the ages. One I hadn't noticed before. My anger begins to fade, forced out by my love for him. Love. Huh. Still takes some getting used to, though I've told the world, well, my world, anyway. He takes my hesitation the wrong way and this time, he begins to pull away. I do the only thing I can.

"Yes." He stops. Looks at me with a little less fear, a bit more wonder.

"Without the chip?" He braces himself, waiting for the blow that never comes.

"I hope I never regret this, Spike. But yes. With the chip, without the chip, I trust you. I think I have to."

He cocks his head. "You have to? What d' you mean, pet?"

"I can't be with you like this anymore, " I gesture between us, reminding us both of our unclothed state. "if I don't trust you. And I... I can't NOT be with you like this. If there's anything I learned in two months, it's that I can't NOT be with you. Nearly killed me." I try to stay somewhat matter-of-fact, but my emotions betray me. Tears trickle down my cheeks. He smiles at me, brushes the tears away with his thumbs. I smile back. We are like two goofy lovesick teenagers, only I'm the Slayer and he's a century-old vampire. Close enough.

"Feel the same way, pet. Kills me to be away from you." I keep smiling, basking in his words like a cat in the sunlight.

I reach up and touch his head where I imagine the chip was, allowing myself to run my fingers through his bleached locks. "What does it feel like? To not have the chip?"

"Must admit, not that different. Couldn't hurt humans before and now I just don't anyway. There's still a demon inside me that wants to kill and feed. Difference is, I'm stronger than it, stronger than that hunger now. Besides, I find that other less-deadly activities hold plenty of appeal." He leers at me suggestively and I have to laugh. I love being with him. I know the Slayer should never laugh when bloodlust is the subject, but I can't help myself. Plain old lust kicks bloodlust in the ass. Yay, lust! I giggle, feeling naughty and happy and all tangled up in him. Trusting Spike. This is new for me, but it fits. I've got millions of questions. I know I should ask more about how the chip was removed and by who, plus what else happened, but it sounds like research and I'm not in the mood for research mode. We can talk more later. Spike's back and right this very second, I only have one question for him.

"Spike?"

"Yes, luv?"

"You're not leaving again, right?"

"D'you want me to?"

I smile. "No."

"Good, 'cause I'm not going anywhere." I squeeze his hands in mine, a grin spreading across my face. Wow, I can hear myself telling the gang now: 'So, remember how I told you I loved Spike, the vampire that has tried to kill us all repeatedly? Well, he's back and he's got no chip, how 'bout that?' Should go over real well....

38. History lessons

Spike's crypt, 7:30 a.m.

We pick up where we left off. I decide to shut my brain off for once and just enjoy this moment. And only this moment. Yes, Spike is back. Spike has no chip. And Spike appears to be a little different, but change is good, right? Questions, questions... why did he go to L.A.? Hmm, L.A., don't suppose he talked to.. "Angel!"

"Oi, luv! Rather you not scream his name when I'm in bed with you, eh?" Spike straightens up suddenly and I am so sorry I distracted him. He was doing such an interesting thing with his tongue. I have GOT to stop blurting things out.

"No, no... I'm sorry, Spike. It's not like that. I just... well, I just realized that you went to L.A. Which naturally leads me to... well, y'know."

Spike shakes his head. He and I both know my idea of 'not thinking, just doing' is turning into a flop. Might as well just have the 'talk'. He cocks his head to the side and studies me for a minute. "Buffy, luv? If we're going to talk now, you'd better cover up. Too bloody distracting like this." He gestures at my naked body and I can't help but blush.

I pull the sheet up and cover my breasts. "You too, Spike." I smile at him. He is still not used to my flirtation, my willingness to engage in playfulness with him. 'Course I haven't mentioned the L word in our brief chats yet... He slips under the sheet too. His leg brushes mine and I get that warm feeling down low. Yum. Buffy! Talk, must talk. Talk is important. Talk is good.

We both lie down, facing each other, propped on our elbows. The proximity to his lips is a bit distracting, but I'll manage. For now.

"You're right, Buffy."

"I am? I knew it." I pause. "About what, exactly?"

"Saw the poof in L.A."

"You did! You did? Um, forgive me for being on the thick side, but don't you pretty much hate his guts?"

"Oh hell, yes." Spike grits his teeth a bit at the thought.

"So, not a social call, I take it?"

"No, definitely not." Spike hesitates and I see the muscle in his jaw twitching.

I wonder where this is going. Definitely not just a friendly visit between those two. Spike would never willingly go to Angel, unless he needed something he couldn't get anywhere else. And what would Angel have that no one else could.... "oh."

"Oh?" He looks at me curiously.

The lights have just clicked on. Acting different. Went away to 'better himself'. Saw Angel. Angel, the vampire with a... "soul. You went to him about a soul??" Despite reaching this conclusion on my own, I am still fairly shocked. And so is Spike.

He recovers fairly quickly, "I... did."

My mind boggles at the thought. Spike? William the Bloody... seeking a soul? After all his derision of Angel and his brooding and his do-gooder ways. This is all so weird. I'm having trouble formulating a question. So, I go for the obvious. "Did you get one?"

Spike laughs, shortly. "Oh, Buffy. This is one of the things I love about you. Right to the bloody point." He brushes the hair out of my eyes, lets his fingers linger on my cheek for a moment. "The truth of the matter is... no. I didn't. I tried. Tried really bleedin' hard... but I am still the same old Spike." That tinge of fear is back in his eyes. It's almost like he expects the party to end soon, and that he won't be invited back. He is trying to hold onto every moment. What is he scared of? He looks so tired. I've just noticed. What has he been through in these two months?

"You... you don't seem the same to me, Spike." I don't know how I feel about this news. Would Spike with a soul be better? I thought I couldn't love him without it, but I was so very very wrong. So far to the wrong. I drove him away. Am I... relieved that he didn't get the soul? Would it change him too much? God, this is so confusing. "You seem... like you've... suffered. Have you?" I reach over and take his free hand in my own. Again, my tenderness is throwing him. He is having as much trouble as I am finding the right words.

"Not nearly enough, Buffy. Not nearly enough." He shakes his head. This conversation could not get any more strange. First off, we rarely talk this long. And second, he's acting so un-Spike. Almost like he feels guilty or something. Another unfamiliar behavior.

"Okay, I'm confused. Let's just stop this conversation now before it gets more on the wacky track. What exactly happened to you? Start from the beginning." He looks at me, unsure. "Please?" I squeeze his hand. He nods, takes another one of those deep breaths that I find somehow charming. We both sit up and face each other on the bed. I cover myself with the sheet as requested, smirking a little at him as I do.

'Alright then. You know the beginning, I left that morning after I wrote you the letter, after that night with you. I want you to know, Buffy, I never wanted to leave you. Never. I just wanted you to love me the way I loved you. And once you admitted you couldn't, I had to leave. Had to try something, anything. Believe me, I never wanted to visit the mighty poofter, but every place I turned in L.A. led me back to him. So, I swallowed my soddin' pride and went to him."

I want to interrupt and tell him how I feel, but I've just had another revelation which totally sidetracks me. "Oh, Spike. Wait a minute. Spike! Was there karaoke??!"

"Wha-? How the... when did you... did he TELL you?"

"There WAS karaoke! You sang?! What kind of twisted game was Angel playing at?"

"Uh, he's got a demon friend who can read your mind and heart while you sing. But how the hell did you know about it? Thought you didn't know where I was?" Spike is genuinely confused.

"Well, I didn't know it was you. I just now put two and two together. I called Angel to... talk to him and he acted really weird. He was even less talkative than usual. And I heard karaoke music in the background. Holy crap. You were there?"

"Yeah, I was there. He didn't tell me you called, 'course. Wanker can't be THAT helpful... Anyway, Lorne, the demon, he read me when I sang. Also offered me a job, but that's another story. So, the poof let him help me. Didn't much like the idea of me loving you or wanting a soul, but I have to give him credit. He still helped. Plus he threatened to kill me, but I've grown used to that."

My eyes are just about bugging out of my face. This story is already mind-blowing and I get the feeling we're just getting started...

"So, then, Lorne and I head out to look for this bird he knows. Lorne's a good bloke, don't know why he's friends with Angelus, but sometimes there's no accounting for taste. We find this... don't know what, not human, but her name was Ka'jiin. Says she can hook me up with the Powers that Be. She does some chanting and poof, I'm somewhere else. And I don't mean somewhere else in L.A. I mean, somewhere ELSE. Total other world, alternate universe, something." He stops as he sees a new reaction on my face.

"That explains it," I whisper. I look down, working out the details in my head. That would be just about right... I look up when I realize Spike is waiting for me to continue. He looks at me quizzically. "I... uh... well, I asked Willow and Tara to find you. With magicks." His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"You were looking for me? And the witches helped?" For someone who is not easily stunned, I am doing a bang-up job on Spike tonight.

"Of course, Spike. I missed you. I... mentioned that. I was getting worried, so I convinced them to do a locating spell. Figured I could bail your butt out if necessary and bring you back." I smirk at him and he allows my comment to pass. "Only... they didn't find any trace of you. Nothing." I study my hands for a few seconds. Even though I know it's not true, I remember the feeling. The throbbing emptiness I felt when I thought Spike was gone. Dust. I feel drops hit my hands and I realize I'm crying. I look back up at him, eyes shining. "I thought that was it, Spike. Thought you were gone for good." His eyes are gentle, probing the emotion in mine, a bit wondering at this Buffy, I bet. Not the same girl he left.

"I'm right here, Buffy. See?" He takes my hand and presses it, palm flat onto his chest. The silken skin cools me. "Like I said, not going anywhere."

"I... I know. Just, that night, I was... it was bad. But then Willow came to me and she did another spell. Don't tell anyone, but she tapped into something dark, I think. She kinda projected me, y'know, astrally? Sent me looking for you. And I found you. Only for a second. I wasn't even sure what happened, but Will explained it. Said you were somewhere otherworldly, but that you were still alive... or er, undead. "

"Buffy, you could have been lost forever. Did you know that?"

"Yes."

"Yes? And? Why would you take such a risk?"

"It was killing me not to know... when they told me they couldn't find you..." I look away, off into the darkness before snapping my eyes back to his. "I just had to know. And hey, I'm the Slayer. Danger is my middle name. Also, Anne."

Another smile pulls at his mouth. He is just delicious. "I felt you. I thought it was a dream, Buffy. But still, it kept me going, luv."

I lean forward and gently brush my lips against his. The motion is almost involuntary. His lips demanded kissing. "So, what happened after you got zapped to another world?"

"Quite a lot, actually.... let's see, first there was this little girl..."

39. Apologies

Spike's crypt, 10 a.m.

I can't believe what I am hearing. Spike tries to gloss over details in his story, to spare me pain or him, I can't tell. I pry them out of him. I have to know it all. Every last painful detail. If someone is going to suffer this much for me, I should have to hear it. To try and feel some of it. He tells me about protecting Sarah and I am moved. Just like he looks after Dawn. But the story of his past victims. Of how they tortured and beat him and.... I shudder. I know he did unspeakable things to him and he deserved retribution, but I still can't believe he was able to take on that much punishment and survive. They punished the man when I know the demon was responsible for their deaths. Spike is clearly still wracked with guilt from these encounters. Guilt. Without a soul. It is only one thing I don't understand out of countless details. I hate to see him suffer, but I also know he has to work through it. It is this process that will separate him from his past. Only now do I see the web of faint scars on his body. I reach out and touch one as his tale winds down. He flinches, not from pain but from my sudden touch, sudden warmth. Telling this tale has left him raw, exposed like a live wire. Every sensation, every emotion, every memory is heightened to the point of pain. We are both crying at this point, tears flowing absently. I continue to trace the scars on his perfect body, one after the other. My fingers trying to undo the violence that caused them. I can almost feel the memory of each scar as I trace it, the violent tearing of skin, Spike's borrowed blood welling up there. I hate the thought of it. He cannot resist my touch, cannot pull away. I make my attempt to reverse time, to take away these marks of his past. But of course, they remain.

I take his left hand in mine and turn the palm over. I uncover a scar where someone sliced open his hand. I trail my index finger the length of it. I can feel him twitch. I look up, "Does that hurt, Spike?"

He whispers back, "No, luv. It's okay." I return to my solemn duty, taking his right hand and finding a matching slice on that palm. As I touch this scar, I have a flash of last year, just before I died. In the Winnebago, Spike saved my life - not for the first time - when he grabbed the sword of one of those wacko knights right before it stabbed me. His hands were sliced open when the knight pulled the blade free. He did that for me and I never even thanked him. And he never spoke a word about it, either. It is memories like this that are forming a twisting knot of remorse in my gut. Things with Spike could have been so much better so much sooner. I lean down slowly and kiss the scar on his palm, saying softly, "I'm sorry."

"For what, Buffy?" Naturally, Spike's confused, he's no mind-reader.

"Lots of things, Spike. Lots of things." Seems only fair. He's been forced to repent his sins. I should do the same.

"I'm sorry for not seeing the good you have been doing. For not recognizing how much you've changed. I'm sorry you are never thanked for your hard work, never invited to sit down and join us, never made to feel welcome. Sorry for being a bitch to you whenever the mood strikes me." I smile wryly at this and he can't help but smile back. "For never defending you to my friends. I'm sorry you had to leave, sorry you suffered so much and sorry you had to go through it alone. Spike, I'm sorry for more things than I can count, more than I can say. Maybe over time, I can just show you."

Spike stares at me. This is very nearly the most I've ever said to him at one time. Certainly the most revealing and kind things I've ever said. He opens his mouth to respond but apparently finds words inadequate. He reaches out with one hand and slides the fingers through the hair that frames my face. I've never understood how those hands can be so very gentle. His gesture is so intimate, so careful. Since he's come back, he acts like he's afraid to move too suddenly, too sharply, like he'll pop this bubble we're in and it will all turn out to be a dream. That's the way I feel, too. Inside this dark crypt, my world is simple. His love for me is of the good and there are no distractions to feeling it wash over me. I feel safe. He cocks his head, examining my face. It feels like he is trying to learn every bit of it, like I'm a mirage that will soon turn to vapor in his hands. But I'm not. I'm very real and I really really want him.

"Spike."

"Luv?" His blue eyes are penetrating.

"I still want to know the rest of what happened, but can we finish this conversation after?"

"After what?"

"This." And I tackle him. I take him completely off-guard and he ends up on his back beneath me, my legs straddling his waist. Good old Slayer skills, useful in so many household situations. Surprised, he tries to move slightly and I squeeze tighter with my thighs, shaking my head at him. He stills, staring at me with wonder. He starts to talk, "Buf-" but I bring my finger to my lips to shush him. "No, please. Let me do the talking for awhile." Time to show Spike how I've changed during his absence. No more pretending I don't want him, that I don't feel him every minute of every day on my skin. No more using him with no thought for his feelings. I liked to pretend before that it didn't matter what I did because he was Spike. Just Spike, an evil, bloodsucking vampire. I pretended not to notice when he saved my life, when he protected my sister, when he fought night after night by our sides. Well, I'm noticing now. Noticing the moonlit quality of his skin against my bronze. Noticing the way his bottom lip is just begging to be kissed. Yum. I reach down and touch his skin. He quivers a bit as I run my finger down the strong column of his neck. I lean down and let my tongue follow the same path, very, very slowly, ending in a kiss against his jugular. He twitches and I hear a low rumble in his throat. His hands snake up around my hips, pressing fingers into soft flesh, willing me to continue. I pull my head back and then repeat the action on the other side of his neck. His fingers press deeper.

"You like that, Spike?" I whisper in his ear. "Should I continue?"

"Hell yes." I snatch his earlobe in my teeth and nibble lightly before tracing the edge of his ear with my hot tongue. "Jesus, luv." I let both my hands slide into his platinum locks. I take a firm grip of his hair.

"Spike. Look at me." His eyes, which had slipped closed, open slowly. God, I could drown in those pools. I regain some of my composure and stare steadily at him. I squeeze my thighs together around his waist and my hands in his hair. His eyes snap to alertness. "Did I mention how much I missed you?" The tinge of fear in his eyes fades to mirth and I am treated to a devastating smile.

"See, I missed that smile." I smile in response and lean forward to touch my lips to his briefly. "And, ooh, these lips..." I start to pull back but I have to go back for seconds. We kiss hungrily, tongues diving and tangling. I finally pull back, slightly breathless.

"Also, I missed these ears..." My tongue swipes down the edge of each ear, suckling the lobes.

"Oh, and this hair. This bleached out hair. Missed it." My hands slide through the curls, mussing it just the way I like it.

"I missed these eyes, these cheekbones, this nose." I stroke the bones of his face with my thumbs, following with my lips.

"Mmm, this neck. I missed this." I bite my way down his neck and I feel his grasp on my hips tighten and perhaps, his control start to slip. He growls.

"And damn, baby, I missed that growl." I snap up and bite his bottom lip, holding it between my teeth for a second. Spike's eyes are widened in surprise and darkened by extreme arousal. I was right, he's starting to lose it.

"Cor, pet... I... don't think..."

"Shhhhh, " I press one finger to his mouth. "Don't think, just listen. I'm trying to tell you something and I don't like to be interrupted. You know that. Now where was I? Oh yes, I hate to leave this neck but there's so much more. I missed these shoulders." I kiss each one.

"And these arms." I grab his left arm, releasing its grip on my hip. "I mean, look at this arm. Honestly." The skin glows silver in the dim light of the crypt. The sharp shadows outline the muscles of his arm as I drag my hand the length of it. I reach his hand.

"And Spike, I can't begin to tell you how I missed these hands." I kiss the palm. "So strong and supple. But more to the point, I know what they can do to me." I turn his hand over, maintaining eye contact the entire time. I bring his hand to my mouth, sliding his thumb into my mouth. I twist around it with my tongue before pulling it back out slowly. Spike's mouth is hanging open. "These hands can make me quiver." I take the index finger next, slowly drawing the entire length into my mouth. I suck gently on it before pulling it back out. My smirk is positively evil. Spike closes his mouth and swallows hard. "These hands can make me cry for mercy..." I take the middle finger in one slow swallow, sliding my teeth along as I withdraw it. "They can make me scream." I smirk, looking at him through my lashes. By the time I am done sucking on his fingers, his eyes have turned storm cloud dark. His fingers are clutching my hips so tightly, I know there will be ten little bruises in the morning.

"And, oh my, this chest. Delish." I splay my hands on his chest, gently caressing his ripped muscles, grazing his nipples and eliciting a pleasured gasp, on my way down to his incredible... "Abs. I mean, honestly. How can these be more sexy? Rhetorical, hon. Shh. I just want to... well, I think you're getting the idea." Reaching his abs brings my hands in very close contact to my own dripping wetness where I've straddled him. I run my index finger up my slit and it comes out glistening.

"Wanna taste, Spike?" With a growl, Spike bolts up and grabs my hand, holding it motionless in the air. I am shocked and aroused and loving every second. He takes my finger and gives me a taste of my own medicine, so to speak, only he does the actual tasting. My index finger slides between his lips and I feel his cool tongue bathe it, licking off my juices. I shudder, feeling a spark of electricity below my waist. As my finger is pulled from his lips in slow motion, I find myself watching, my mouth slightly agape, as he licks his lips. After a few seconds of mesmerization, I remember that I am supposed to be in charge. Showing Spike how I feel about him. Right. Yeah. I am starting to sweat in his presence, tiny beads slipping down my back. I tilt forward, pressing my hands into his shoulders to hold him to the bed. I press my lips to his, I can still taste something musky, which must be me. I talk into his mouth, my hazels locked on his dark blues, "I wasn't done yet, Spike. You interrupted my little journey. I also missed..." Without warning but with full use of my innate Slayer speed, I lift my hips, slide back and slam back down on his fully erect cock, impaling myself in the process. We both moan and scream all at once at the incredible and sudden sensation. I am filled to the hilt. Spike is once again driven senseless by my behavior. I've never released his eyes and the parade of emotions that flit across their landscape turn me to jelly. I am reluctant to move at first. "I missed this too, Spike. I missed feeling you inside me, knowing you were as close to me as possible. Feeling my heart beat on your chest, my breath on your skin. Being in you, you being in me. Didn't know how right it felt til you were gone." I feel tears tickling my eyes. Can't believe how much I'm crying lately. "I'm sorry for that too."

"Buffy?" Spike's voice is fractured. I realize how tight the muscles are in his neck, his arms, even his abs are contracted.

"Should I move now, sweetie?"

He nods.

"Getting ready to lose it?"

Another nod.

"You realize the moving won't actually help with that, right?"

He nods again.

"Don't care, right?"

"Right." His voice is stretched thin. A normal man would have exploded awhile ago. That's why I've got Spike. I gingerly lift my hips, letting him about halfway out before dropping back sharply. I repeat the motion time after time, my pace relentless. He gasps over and over, clutching at me like a man drowning. His cool hands sizzle against my super-heated skin. I angle my hips so every thrust pounds against my swollen clit. My own sighs of pleasure echo in the dark crypt.

As I feel the moment growing, I smile at him, taking a moment to kiss his lips. He matches my smile right before he bellows like a madman. I feel him tense up and the whole world screeches to a halt as his cool seed fills me. I twist my clit and collapse under the shockwaves that rock me from navel to knees. I bonelessly slide down onto his chest, my head resting right upon his unbeating heart. I plant a kiss on the silent spot. I mutter in my near-sleep, "Missed this too..." as his taut arms wrap around my back and hold me to him.

40. In the Moment

Spike's Crypt, Noon

I stumble out of sleep, smiling a sly, satisfied smile. Mmm, that was the best dream I've had.... oh god, again with the subconscious confusion. Not a dream at all. It's such a pain my Slayer skills do not extend to a more alert morning Buffy. My cheek is still pressed into Spike's chest. I can't tell if he's awake without moving and I'm reluctant to... what if my moving causes it all to end? Get a grip, Buffy. Reality here. Moving can't cause him to go poof, unless I had a stake right on his heart, which I don't... and rambling now. Just move. I lift my head a bit and I feel him stir ever so slightly. Without the telltale breathing changes, it's impossible to tell when he is asleep or awake. I push myself up and look on his face. My mind struggles to catch up as my eyes drink in the sight in front of me. So much has changed in the last few hours. And there he is, his face unlined, at rest. He is incredibly beautiful to me. I better not ever call him that, might insult his manliness. But God, how can I be expected to stand looking at those lips without kissing them. Whoops, guess I can't.

"Mmm, luv. One of my favorite ways to wake up." Spike snatches me around the waist and rolls me over. He presses his lips to mine, harder. Not the only thing getting harder. I squirm a little to confirm that Spike's mouth is not the only part of him fully alert. He moans deep in his chest.

I pull back from his kiss briefly, widening my eyes in pretend innocence. "Well, better get going. I can see I've disturbed your beauty rest." I squeak a little when he growls. "No? Don't want me to go?" I smile at him.

"You're not going anywhere, ducks. I've got plans. Schemes. Evil plots. And you are the subject of all of them." He snaps at my lip, tugging the bottom one into his mouth. As it slips out again, he looks at me. Those blue eyes never get old. They just blaze a trail into me. "You game? I know that vampire stamina may be a bit too much for such a sweet young thing like yourself...." He loves to bait me, dare me, tease me. I give it back in spades.

"Perhaps you've heard of me, Spike? Vampire Slayer? Anything you can do, I can do better. Longer. Harder." My smirk is matched my his.

"I say we should test that theory, luv."

"Bring it on, blondie." And yum, he does. After kissing me 'til my lips throb, he slides down my body, visiting some favorite places, but clearly one track in his thinking. I wiggle around, hardly able to contain myself. I just want to burst out of my skin, spontaneously combust, something. Spike's cool hands are the only thing keeping me from bursting into flames, I'm sure of it. They slide around my waist and then around my back. He lifts my ass with them, raising me to his soft, soft lips. I throw my head back as his lips gently kiss the inside of one thigh, then the other. Heat is issuing from me in waves at this point. He touches that slick cool tongue to my slit and tastes me. I whimper slightly and he lifts his head., cocking that eyebrow at me.

"Want I should stop, luv? Need a break?"

I bite my lip and shake my head. Words have escaped me. A common effect of his tongue, I've noticed. Magic tongue. Should ask Giles... no, better not. Can only imagine that conversation. 'So, Giles. How's London? Spike does this thing with his tongue...' Nah. Oh oh oh. The tongue is at work, shut UP, Buffy. I look down to see his blond head between my legs right before I gasp out loud. For the first time, but not the last. His mouth is working overtime. I can feel the path of his tongue over and over, his pressure on my clit seems constant. I start to breathe harder as he hits the right rhythm. I feel my feet go numb. As the sensation creeps up my body, I start to cry out. Finally, with one furious drive, Spike flings me over the edge. I howl in pleasure. Just as the ripples are starting to dissipate, I taste Spike's lips on mine. My eyes open sleepily to his glinting ones.

"Not getting tired already, luv?" He kisses my cheeks, my chin and starts to work his way down my neck. I moan and work on an answer to his question. The difficulty of stringing words into sentences is incredible.

"No. Not tired." There, that was eloquent. He brings out my talkative side with that tongue.

"Good, good." With that, I feel his fingers slide into me. I shimmy up the bed, trying to escape the intense sensation, bordering on pain. The nerve endings are raw from my recent orgasm. I take deep breaths, trying to relax into it. It starts to work as his fingers slide effortlessly in and out of me, dripping. I move with him, anticipating the feeling of fullness. But his fingers are not enough, now that I am not out of my head, I want more. I think I can manage to say that.

"More, Spike." There.

"More, pet? What do you mean?" He knows damn well what I mean. His thumb slides up to press on my clit with every thrust of his fingers. I feel a third slide in. "Like this?"

I nod because it really does feel amazing, but then shake my head. "More of you. Want you."

"Cor, I love driving you nearly speechless, Buffy. Your wish, my command." His fingers withdraw and I emit a low whine. "Is this what you want, darling?" His head is brushing against my entrance. I try to slide onto his hard cock, but he holds my shoulders. "Is it?"

I nod furiously. What, he wants me to talk again? "Yes, dammit. Spike, I want you inside me. Now." My low voice, nearly a growl, gets his attention. My eyes are blazing.

"I love a strong woman, one that knows what she bloody well wants." He slides into me slowly, tantalizingly slow. I feel every centimeter of him pulsing inside me. Finally, he is fully enveloped and I shudder in extreme contentment. He is like a missing piece of me that I've finally reclaimed. Spike is studying my expression very curiously. I don't know what my face is telling him, but I am not hiding anything. My whole range of emotions are on display in this wholly unguarded moment. He squints at me a little, as if he is trying to make out something in the distance, only I'm right in front of him. His scrutiny makes me nervous. I wrap my legs around his back and squeeze, pushing him deeper than I thought possible. This gets his attention. His eyes widen slightly as his focus leaves my face and seems to go back to the electricity coursing through him, through us. I release him from my grip and he starts to slide out and then back in, slowly. I want to curse at him, go faster, go harder, but I know what he is doing. He is drawing us both deeper into this moment, letting the physical sensations be fully wed to the emotions edging right to the surface. I feel my control slipping as he works in and out of me, increasing the pace and the force in the smallest increments. I join him, matching every thrust so we are meeting in the middle. Equals. It's just like a battle, only more tender, less with the trying to kill each other. He kisses my lips, my neck, my shoulder, never losing the rhythm. I constantly search for his eyes - anytime he leans away to kiss a part of me, I feel cold. I want the blue fire in them. Finally, as we both feel the inevitable building, our eyes lock. I whisper his name as the hum of my body threatens to drown out conscious thought, willing him to not leave me, not to look away. There is a tenderness infused in that one syllable, an intimacy he has never heard from me. He is frozen in the moment. I know our bodies continue their ruthless pace, but everything else seems like slow motion. He opens his mouth to say something to me, but just then the climax hits us both, as if scripted. We've never had a moment quite like it. I scream like never before, full of pent-up fear and love, worry and passion. I wail like a banshee as his deep roar shakes the bed. As we start to come down, I find I can't stop. I moan and cry and clutch for him. I am sobbing so hard I hiccup and my chest heaves. In between sobs, I realize Spike's face is near mine, concern in those sweet blue eyes. I try to smile, kissing his lips in an attempt to allay his fears.

"Buffy? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

I hiccup again, calming down a bit more. "No, no, Spike. It was... I just felt so much. I started to lose control and... I... it all came to the surface." I stroke his cheek lightly. I whisper the next part, "I thought for awhile there I would never find you again, never see you, never feel you again.. And now, here you are, flesh and blood." I'm still shaking. I can't believe the words that are just flowing out of me like water.

"Bloody hell, pet. I promised to come back. I'm sorry. I... didn't even let myself believe you would miss me, to tell you the truth." He takes one thumb, brushes the tears off both cheeks. He is still inside me and I realize I could live and die like this. I slowly wrap my legs around the backs of his, maintaining our full body contact. I can't seem to get enough of him. He takes my waist in his hands and rolls us over so I am resting on top of him. His arms tighten around my waist, holding my body against his. He, too, is hoping to savor this moment. I wiggle very slightly and he smirks.

"Of course I missed you, Spike. I wondered where you were the whole time... in fact, I still have some questions about that. We got... distracted before you could really finish. How did you get back from this alternate reality you were in?"

"It's a bit hazy for me, luv. I remember blacking out after... And well, waking in some strange room. While I was out was when I dreamt about you coming to find me. I wasn't sure I was going to make it at that point. Vampires can't really bleed to death, but I figured maybe in that world I could. A normal person would've." I can't help but shiver at his words. The image is disturbing. "Then, I remember a voice. The bloody Powers that Be never did show their faces. If they have faces. Just voices. Told me all sorts of mumbo jumbo and basically said, even though I survived their trials, I wasn't....ready for the soul. That if I was a very very lucky vampire, I may just get it one day, but not today."

Something about what Spike is saying seems off. His eyes drift from mine and the flickers of pain in those eyes worry me. I am ready to kick some Powers ass. "After all that? But Spike, you passed every test they put in front of you! How could they be so cruel..."

"Eh, well. Powers that Be are not like us... don't bother with reason and logic and all that bollocks. Just do whatever gets their rocks off, I reckon. Turned out to be torturing a vampire that day." Spike shrugs. Something definitely seems off in his story, but he did say he was hazy... Besides, mystical powers and stuff. Big time heavy.

"Are you... disappointed?"

"Disappointed? Not really the word, luv. I was royally pissed. Wanted to rip something apart. Something not human, 'course." He looks at me, making sure I believe him. He never said he lost the taste for a good fight. And I'm happy to hear it. Best sparring partner I have. "But the Powers don't really respond well to violence. I had no choice but to accept their terms."

"Terms? What do you mean?"

"Oh, I just mean, accept what they said, luv. No soul for the Big Bad." Just like with Willow, I know when he is hiding something. And he SO is. I squint at him a bit, trying to decipher just what he is not telling me. He runs his hands up my back, tracing the hollow of my spine. My nerves are alive with his touch and again, most of the words in my head become scrambled. He cranes his neck up a little to bump his lips against mine. "Tired yet, luv?" I feel him start to harden inside me again and I can't help but smile. Unbelievable. I never stuck around long enough before now to learn just how much stamina he does have.

"You're insatiable." I somehow know this is some kind of diversionary tactic, but it's an awfully good one. Can't seem to keep my mind on anything but his touch.

"Truer words were never spoken, Buffy." I feel his proof start to move inside me and I moan. I'm going to be so sore later and it's going to be so worth it...

41. Finally

Spike's crypt, 3 p.m.

I roll over, reaching for Spike. I reach and reach. Nothing. My eyes fly open as I don't find him with my searching hand. I sit up suddenly, my heart racing. There's a noise upstairs in the crypt. I grab the sheet and wrap it around me, jumping from the bed. I slip into the shadows beyond the ladder. If whoever or whatever is up there did something to Spike, I will... well, I'll do what I do. I hear footsteps approaching the ladder. Glancing around for a weapon produces a dagger, which I clutch tightly, waiting. Good old Spike, weapons always lying around. Dark boots appear on the ladder. A dark form reaches the bottom of the ladder and I fly into action, tackling the figure to the ground, knife to his throat.

"Whoa, luv! 's me!" I jerk back, lifting the blade from Spike's neck in relief. I sit back, straddling his waist. I look to the side and see a white paper bag he must have dropped when I hit him, its contents spilling out . He was bringing me something? Food. Spike, who doesn't need to eat, was bringing me food. I start to laugh. He sits up on his elbows, studying me. Must think I'm cracking up. "Uh, Buffy? You okay there, pet?"

I look down at this... man. There is no doubt, he is a man to me. Not a vampire, not an enemy, not a demon, not a crutch. He is a man. Full of feelings, notably a love for me. A love I doubted, questioned, derided. But it's true. He loves me. So much. I feel a warmth in my belly spreading outwards, making my thighs tingle. "I'm just fine, Spike. Sorry to tackle you... I just woke up and you weren't here... and then I heard noises. Anyway, where were you?" I'm still smiling at him. He likes it from the glint in his eyes and the way his lips are twitching up.

"Thought you might be hungry. Nothing to eat here, so I went out." He says this nonchalantly, as if it were easy for him to wander out into broad daylight and get me a lunch without being burnt to a crisp. "Besides, I don't really mind when you tackle me, luv."

I shake my head at him. Always makes me laugh. "Just went out, eh?"

"Well, I went down really. Sewers and a quick dash. I put the rest of the food in the fridge for later. Uh, if you're here later, that is. Know you probably have to leav..."

"Shhhh." I rest my hand over his mouth, effectively silencing him. "Thought I was the only one who rambled. Making you nervous, Spike?" My other hand traces circles on the bare skin exposed above the open buttons of his shirt. He twitches a bit.

"Uh, no. Just figured you'd be on your way soon." He tries to set his jaw, showing his toughness, his acceptance. His eyes betray him to me.

"Is that what you want, Spike? You want me to leave?"

His voice drops to a sharp whisper. "No. I don't."

"Well, me neither, so it's settled." I press a quick kiss to his lips and flash another bright smile at him. He cocks his head at me. Woman of mystery, that's me. "Now, what did you bring me? I am starved. Girl can work up a real appetite with you." I wink and stand up, holding the sheet around me and grabbing up the bag and its contents. Spike stays on the floor, watching me. I walk back towards the bed, studying my lunch... dinner? Don't even know what time it is. Tuna salad sandwich on whole wheat bread. I glance at him. He just watches me. I peel back the bread and a smile stretches across my lips. Pickles. How did he know this is my favorite sandwich? I peer in the bag and see a huge bunch of red grapes. Plus two chocolate chip cookies and a bottle of water. I set all the food down on the bedside table and walk slowly back to Spike. I reach my hand down to him and he gives me one of those devastating grins. My knees wobble a bit and as he takes my hand, I feel the electricity shoot up my arm. I pull him to a standing position in front of me.

"Did I do okay, luv?" He knows. He knows he has surprised me again. I fight the smile and lose.
I take his chin in my hand and lean closer, my breath warming his face. "You did great. Thank you." My kiss presses into his soft lips and I remember all over again why I'm here, underground, in a dark crypt with a vampire named Spike. My eyes shut tighter as I let the feelings wash over me. I love him. Hard to believe how long it took me to realize that and yet now it feels like I've loved him for years. So why can't I tell him? I guess I'm scared. Pretty sad. Not scared of bloodsuckers or gooey demons, but love? Eek. The Slayer package has nothing to do with emotional stability. Every guy I've loved has let me down... what if he does the same? My chest burns at the thought, my breathing constricts. He picks up on it immediately. Our lips break contact and I make a sad little noise, missing him immediately.

His eyes search my face wordlessly. Spike senses my emotional turmoil and for once, he decides not to try a full frontal attack. He takes my hand in his and starts to walk toward the bed. I stutter step a bit, following him, the sheet falling away from me and trailing onto the floor. My head is swirling. We stop at the side of the bed. I crawl in, slowly, my nudity having its effect on him. I hear his unneeded breathing accelerate. I look over my shoulder and Spike is nearly naked himself. Once his clothes are discarded, he slides into the bed with me. I marvel again at the sculptural perfection of his body. We lie on our sides, facing each other. He just keeps looking at me and that inner warmth suffuses my every inch of skin. I'm radiating heat like a small sun. Spike moves into orbit next to me, taking my reflected warmth as his own. His hand rests on my hip. I slide my hand under his arm and let my fingers curl around his side.

"Hungry, luv?" I nod. For someone with a witty comment for every slimy beastie, I go rather wordless with Spike. Again. He takes his hand from my hip and reaches for the grapes, twisting one off with a flick of his thumb and index finger. As it comes closer to my mouth, I part my lips slightly. He slides the grape in, letting his thumb follow it between my lips. I close my moist lips on his thumb and watch him as it slides out. The heat between us increases palpably as he feeds me the succulent grapes. I bite one before it gets fully in my mouth and the juice slowly drips down my chin. I swallow the grape and as Spike leans closer, I hold my breath. His tongue gently but firmly licks the sweet liquid up my chin and off my lips. I tremble as the same tongue pushes in between my lips, meeting little resistance. I go to meet him with my own tongue and the juices mix in our mouths as we press harder, then gentler, tasting and twisting. "Cor, you are delicious." His husky voice grabs my attention.

"It's the grapes, Spike."

"What grapes?" Grabs my earlobe in his teeth, tracing the edge with his tongue. "Just as sweet right here." He adjusts his position and licks my neck, then presses his lips there. "And here." He returns to my mouth, his tongue darting out to wet the bottom lip. He is moving in slow motion to my eyes. Just before our lips meet again, my eyes slip closed. I am completely lost in the kiss. I still can't believe how my whole body reacts to his lips. Tremors. His movements remain slow and languid, relaxing me. I remember how tired I am, how exhausted I've been for so long. Worrying and loneliness took its toll and is starting to catch up with me. And Spike, he should be sleeping for weeks after what he's been through. I feel him reach down and move the grapes, dropping them on the bedside table. His arms reach under and around me, pulling me closer. My warm, limp body molds itself to his. He turns slightly so my head rests on his chest. I let my arm slide across, holding him to me. We cling to each other, comfortable and at peace. His left hand travels in a winding path up and down my spine. I feel myself start to drift. Just as I think he is already asleep, I feel his arms tighten slightly. "Buffy." I lift my head, thinking he is asking me a question with the whispering of my name. Spike's eyes are closed. He was merely assuring himself I was here. That I was in his arms. And I realize it is the only place I really want to be.

"Oh, Spike." I pause. I feel him stir at my words as I study his face, those sharp features dissolving into his soft soft lips. The next words are coming out of my mouth before I can edit them, remind myself of my fear. Just as I begin to speak, his deep blue eyes flutter, opening to meet mine. "I..." An electric shock bridges the gap between us. "...I love you."

42. Aftermath

I hold my breath. I said it. I said it to HIM. And.... and... I don't regret it.

Wait.

I don't get the expected reaction from Spike. His eyes darken on mine but then the lids drop on them and he goes completely limp. His arms slide off my body and flop down onto the bed.

"Spike?" I sit straight up, looking at his face. So intense a moment ago and now completely slack, eyes closed, mouth set. Panic. That is what has risen in my chest. He's not breathing. Dammit, Buffy, he doesn't breathe! "SPIKE?!" I shake him. Too hard probably, but hey, he can take it. It's no time for kid gloves. I slap him across the face. Normally, this would get one hell of a reaction. Nothing. The red bloom begins to grow on his cheek where I struck him and I feel terrible. He must have had some blood before he came to bring my lunch, that's why his skin is flush. I keep shaking him, but there's just nothing. No reaction. God, he can't be dead. He's a vampire, already dead. I can't check his pulse, his breathing. But he's not dust, so he's still... undead or whatever he is. I need help. I sit back on my heels, looking him over. No visible signs of injury. Something magical? Some weird side effect from his visit to the Powers? This is so not my specialty. I get up and scramble around, looking for my bag. There. Cell phone.

"Will?"

"Buffy! Hey! We were wondering what you were up to... you okay? I thought you were heading over to... uh... Spike's crypt, but I didn't... I told Dawn you were supposed to be gone, but I was starting to wor-"

"Willow!" I interrupt. "Please. I'm sorry to go AWOL and now to call out of the blue, but it was, well, he's back. Spike's back. But something's wrong with him, Will. I need you. Can you come to his crypt?"

"Wha... he's ba... when? Oh Buf-"

Fear pitches my voice higher. "Please, can you come now?" She recognizes something in my voice and I hear Willow switch to resolve face.

"Be there in two secs, Buffy. Hang in, okay?" I nod, then realize she can't see me.

"Yes. Hurry?"

"You bet." I flip the phone closed and look over at Spike. Still motionless, arms splayed. I feel a bit dizzy, but then look down at myself. Then at him. Naked! We are both completely, totally naked and Willow is on her way. Yikes. In the scheme of things, it's no big deal, but still... I grab up my pants and shirt, slipping them on as fast as possible. I fly up the ladder to check the front door of the crypt. After unlocking it, I slide back down the ladder. Now for Spike. I snatch his black jeans from the pile on the floor and start to work his feet in and yank them up. I want to be gentle, but I also want him dressed and he's not helping. Finally the pants are on and I dig for his shirt. Rolling him over, I manage to get his arms into the sleeves and pull it around him. He's like a rag doll and it's freaking me out more and more. As I'm working the buttons, I hear a voice calling. "Buffy?! Where are you?"

"Down here, Will!" I hear her bang into something and remember it is pretty dark up there. She reaches the ladder and I turn around to see her feet appear. I breathe a sigh of relief. She ducks down and a flash of red hair and her face appear suddenly. Quickly, she hops down the rest of the way.

"Buffy?" She is reaching towards me. I shake my head pointing at him 'til her hand touches my face and comes away wet. Both my hands go to my face. I had no idea I was crying. I wipe hurriedly and gesture at Spike.

"He...he just blacked out or something. I... don't know what caused it." She pulls her wide eyes away from my face and turns to Spike. I manage to spill out most of the story to her between gasping breaths. It is suddenly difficult to breathe smoothly. Naturally, I leave out a lot, but she gets the idea.

"The Powers have incredible magicks, Buffy. I guess it could be some kind of side effect. They obviously messed with him a lot from what you've said. It's hard to say what's the matter - he's pretty much catatonic, which I wasn't sure vampires could do, but... well..." She gestures towards his immobile form. My arms wrap around my chest, trying to create warmth. The cold is penetrating.

"Do... do you think he'll wake back up?"

"Honestly, Buffy, I can't... we need to get him back to the house. I can try a detection spell. See if there is magic around him. Please, don't worry. We'll fix it. We'll fix him, okay?" She's trying to give me the old stiff upper lip routine, but I'm too shaky. I love him so goddamn much and he's in a coma. Vamps don't have comas and I put him in one somehow. Logic Buffy tells me I didn't do anything, but Panic Buffy wins.

"Okay, let's get him there. Only, it's not dark yet."

"I've got the car at the edge of the cemetery. If we can just make it there..."

"Done." I lean down and pull Spike's arm around my shoulder. He's heavier than I expected. Probably my lack of sleep and food slowing me down. I glance over at the table where the lunch he brought me sits and sigh. Such a sweet gesture, gone to waste. Willow slides under his other arm and we take the sewer exit in the lower level rather than try the ladder. Twenty minutes later, we manage to get inside my house with a still-smoking Spike. Even when the blanket slipped outside my house and his hand began to singe, he made no movement. Finally, we lay him out on my bed. Dawn is over at her friend Janice's, thank god. I can't handle the explanations. I arrange his arms and legs so he doesn't look so... so... gone. I start to shake as images of the couch downstairs and another body flash into my head. No, NO. I can't go to that time right now. Spike needs me, here. Not in the past. I take his hand in mine and brush his temple with the other before looking to see what Willow is doing. She's gone. To her room, I guess, to get supplies. I lean closer to the immobile vampire, searching for any twitch of movement in his eyes, his mouth. Still no. I press my lips to his, wishing for a reaction, for those cool lips to part and meet mine. I sit back. I whisper to him. "Spike. Please wake up. For me?" I squeeze his hand. "I... meant it, y'know." My fingers slide through his platinum curls. "I do... I do really love you. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you. I just want you to wake up, okay? Everything else will work out, promise." I hear a small noise behind me and glance quickly over my shoulder, eyes wet again. Willow is standing in the doorway, arms full of bottles and candles, frozen. Guess she heard me.

"I... I'm sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to hear... it just sounded, I mean, you told me, but wow. You love him. You really do."

I nod. "Fix him?" I manage a smile of encouragement. She nods back and moves into the room. After a brief set-up, she sits on the edge of the bed next to Spike. I stand up and move back a few steps, arms crossed. She closes her eyes and murmurs to herself. The candles she lit burn higher and brighter as the hum grows in the room. Willow's hand reaches out to rest on Spike's chest as she continues to chant quietly. I blink. I swear there is a... glow around Spike? Yes, we have definite glow. All around the edges of his body, a white light begins to shine. Brighter and brighter. My best friend the witch, sitting right next to him, doesn't seem to be noticing the glow and I'm not sure if I should say anything. Suddenly the light flares brighter than ever and I am forced to cover my eyes with my forearm. As quickly as it appears, it vanishes. I lower my arm and see that the candles are out and Willow is sitting very still by the motionless Spike. She looks over at me and mouths one word: "Wow."

"What... just happened, Willow? What was that light?" She turns back to look at Spike, who is still not moving.

"I... wow." Her green eyes are dilated and her face is flushed as she turns back towards me.

"You said that."

"Sorry, Buffy. I just felt... pure magic. See, the glow is proportional to the amount of magic at work. And uh, major glow there, you might have noticed."

"So something magical is happening to him? Is it bad??" Somehow this revelation is not really relaxing me.

She shakes her head. "I... whew... um, I don't think so. It didn't feel evil. I don't think I could do anything to stop it anyway. It's big-time, generated by a powerful force. See, the strength of the magic is directly related to the witch or whatever that performs it. This was no amateur night." I look helplessly back and forth between the two of them. Willow can't do anything with magic, I can't do anything with Slayer strength. So what now? Wait? See if he ever wakes up or slowly turns to dust in front of me? These are not great options. He's been out for over half an hour and I'm already completely out of sorts. I'm not sure I can wait. But what else can I do? I look at Willow, helplessness shining in my eyes. She stands up and wraps her arms around me. I collapse into her hug. She looks over her shoulder at Spike, who, of course, has not budged.

"Buffy, let's go downstairs and get something to eat. You look really pale. I'll think of something, okay? I don't think he is in danger right now."

I strain against her a bit, wanting to just sit by him, but my lightheadedness tells me she's got a good idea. Besides the grapes, I haven't eaten in 24 hours. And I have been... active. A small smile touches my mouth as I think of rising and falling in his arms. Those arms... I wish they would move. My lack of answer doesn't stop Willow, who slowly pulls me out of the room. I keep my eyes on him 'til we reach the stairs and head down.

* * * * *

Meanwhile...

Spike comes to in the all white room.

"Bloody fuckin' hell." He holds his head and stands up. "What the...? Not this again." He straightens up and looks down. Not naked, that's interesting. "Guess she's a modest bird. KA!!!" He roars for the blue-skinned creature who is certainly behind this unscheduled trip. A voice lilts from directly behind him.

"William." He jumps and turns to face her.

"Dammit, can you not do that? And what am I doing here? I was fine... I was with Buffy and she -"

"She declared her love."

"Yeah! She did! Perfect bloody moment and then I'm here all of a sudden. Again. I'm not jumping through any more hoops for your amusement." Spike's eyes flash as his fists clench and the muscles in his arms twitch in anger.

"Be calm, William. I have brought you here to finish what we started." She raises her hand and he feels his nerves calm.

"What d'you mean?"

"The soul. William, you are here to receive your soul."

43. Redemption

"Oh."

"Did you think I would not follow through on our agreement, William?"

"Our agreement ? When did you become the one giving me the soul? I thought you were just a messenger for the ruddy Powers. Anyway, it's just... I... didn't really expect Buffy to love me. Meaning I didn't expect to get the soul." Spike paces back and forth in front of Ka, hands running through his hair.

"You're not sure you want the soul." Ka's words have no questioning to them. As usual, she simply states the truth. She smiles at his other comments but ignores them for now.

"She loves me. Without it. Maybe I should just leave well enough alone, eh?" Spike stops and turns to her, brow furrowed in thought. "What if the soul makes me like Angel... all broody and annoying?"

"William, every soul is a unique entity. Yours will affect you in a way like no one else's."

"But you don't know if it will be good or bad."

"Good and bad are relative, human terms, William. They hold no sway over me. You must decide for yourself what is good and what is bad."

Spike paces again in the unnervingly white space, wishing he had a cigarette. Ka'jiin remains motionless, watching the blond vampire.

"William."

He continues to pace. "Yeah?"

"You came to me for a soul. You wanted the soul so Buffy would love you. Was there any other reason?"

Spike's eyes narrow. "What are you gettin' at, luv?"

"Do you want your soul back?" She pauses. "Do you miss your humanity?"

Spike comes to a full stop, facing away from Ka. He looks at the floor, turning her question over in his head. His mission to get a soul has been so driven, so one-track. All for Buffy. Now he could have it, and she didn't seem to need it to love him. Did he need it? Did he want it?

Finally, Spike turns to face Ka'jiin, hands twitching. Her silver blue eyes focus on his. He reels at her intensity but then straightens his shoulders and matches her stare with one of his own.

"Ka, I love Buffy. And now, she told me she loves me. It's all I ever wanted. The soul was only a means to that end. With that logic, I should say no, I don't want the soul. Seems that I may be enough for her just like this. Only..." He drops his gaze to study his boots.

"Only?" She awaits his reply, though she knows it.

"Only... I'm not sure if it's enough for me anymore. She is willing to love a monster, a killer. I... don't want her to. I want to give her more, even if she doesn't demand it. She deserves it. And maybe, just maybe..." He stops, swallows. "Maybe it's something I want now. A new leaf, a new start. With her by my side." Spike looks at Ka, defiantly, blue eyes blazing in newfound certainty.

Ka does the unthinkable and smiles at him. "William, I am to be an impartial party in these matters, but I must tell you, you are remarkable. Unlike any other. A noble vampire... before he has a soul. It is simply not found in this world. Your soul will make your struggle easier. The bloodlust will be dulled, your conscience will rise up and aid in your decisions. Your demon will be suppressed. Many things will be different, and you will learn of all of them in time. Is your decision made?"

"Won't make me weak, will it? Still be able to fight and all?"

"You will still be a vampire with all the strength and speed that brings. Are you ready?" Ka begins to raise her arms.

"Wait!"

She lowers her arms, studying him. "Yes?"

"If I'm here, what is going on with Buffy? Did I just vanish? We were... y'know, together."

"William, I simply removed your essence to bring you here. I left your physical form in the physical world."

Spike looks down at his hands. Seemed real. "What, so I'm there, only brain-dead or something? Bloody hell, Ka! Is Buffy okay?!"

"She was... disturbed by your disappearance, William. It was necessary."

Spike moves toward her, a glint in his eyes. "Show me."

Ka remains still, wondering at the vampire's boldness in approaching her this way. "Be still, William." Her hand immobilizes him. "I will allow you this one transgression." Her eyes swirl to black. "You are full of passion and I recognize this, if I do not truly understand it. It is what makes you fascinating to me. You may see her before we continue." Ka gestures at one wall of the white room and it fades away, revealing Buffy's room. She is on the edge of the bed, her lips pressed to the mouth of a comatose Spike. Spike's eyes widen.

"How did I get...?"

Buffy leans back and whispers, but her voice reverberates through the white room. 'Spike. Please wake up. For me?' She pauses, her hand in his. 'I... meant it, y'know.' Her other hand strokes his hair. 'I do... I do really love you...'

The image fades back to white. Spike growls, looking at Ka.

"'Ey! How could you do that to her? She thinks I'm dead... or something. And... she still loves me..." The realization is clearly having its affect on Spike as he appears newly stunned. His voice drops to a whisper. "I promised I would not leave her again."

"Does this change your decision?"

"Absolutely not." Spike hastily wipes a stray tear from his eye. "Can't believe I'm soddin' missing out on her telling me again. Let's have it, then. I've got to get back to Buffy." He stands up straight, chin lifted, facing the blue-skinned woman.

"Very well. You have met the conditions and passed the trials. Despite this visit, you will still not be able to remember my part in granting your soul. Goodbye, William."

Before Spike can reply, Ka'jiin raises her arms, the sleeves of her black robe sliding down to reveal her shimmering blue skin. The eyes that have seen untold years begin to swirl blacker as an unidentifiable string of sounds begin to emanate from her. Spike feels himself falling into her eyes, the blackness swallowing him whole.

But then, a light.

Faint, a pinhole of brightness. Growing nearer and glowing stronger. A spasm of fear passes through Spike as his memories of sunlight burn him. But this light, though brighter than the sun on a summer day, does not burn. It warms. The light reaches him, pushing out the blackness. It enters him, fills him, emanates from him. Spike feels the layers of darkness peeling away. The light grows stronger and the heat now does begin to burn. Spike feels the warmth coursing through him, faster and hotter. The darkness is a memory. He wonders if he will suddenly combust, the pain, the heat is growing. He begins to fall. His entire body tightens, he clutches the sheets in pain, head flailing back and forth against the pillows. Passing thoughts wonder at the soft cotton beneath him. Finally, Spike goes limp, the warmth fading, but not disappearing. Never disappearing, it takes up new residence in him, deep within. His eyes open and his hands unclench. Buffy's room. He's in her room. His hand goes to his chest, half expecting his heart to beat. He feels alive again for the first time in over a century. A small smile passes over Spike's lips before he blacks out again, his body exhausted by the new arrival of a soul.

* * * * *

Meanwhile...

I pace around the kitchen, a half-eaten sandwich in my hand. Willow follows with her eyes from her perch on a bar stool, a spellbook open on the counter. Periodically, I cast my eyes to the ceiling, thinking of the occupant of my bedroom, wondering if he is okay, listening for any sound. Nothing. I turn to start my next lap around the room and nearly run right into Willow, who now blocks my path.

"Buffy."

I throw the sandwich on the counter and grab Willow's hands. "What is it? Do you have an idea?"

"No, but honey, I... I'm still thinking. Can you... umm..."

"I'm distracting you."

"Well, yes, but I understand, it's just that..."

"I get it. I'll go check on him. I can't eat anymore, anyway."

Willow glances at the partially eaten sandwich and sighs. "Right. Well, go. I'll come get you if... when... I think of something. Okay, sweetie?"

I nod. "Okay. I'm sorry I'm not much help in the research area, Will. I just can't think straight with him... with him like that."

"I get it, Buffy. I'll call, I promise."

I manage a small smile and squeeze Willow's hands before leaving the room. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I take a deep breath and start up. The emotions inside rise up, a battle between the anticipation of seeing Spike again and the fear of seeing him in his current condition. I reach the top of the stairs and stop again in the hall. When I turn the corner, I will be able to see him again... lying there...

I set my jaw and take the last few steps, his body coming into view on my bed. The light of the lamp on the bedside table casts a warm glow on his face, calm and still. My face drops. I had so hoped it would be different, that he would be different when I got here. I walk up to the edge of the bed and stand, my eyes sweeping over his entire form. Up from his feet to his waist, his chest, his hands.... wait. His hand. His left hand is on his chest, right above his heart. It wasn't there before. I run the replay of Willow's spell through my head. Her hand was on his chest, and his was by his side. And then we left him. So, there's no way... I sit on the bed and grab Spike's shoulders.

"Spike?" No response. I shake him a little bit. "Spike!?" My voice has taken on a pleading quality. I just want something, anything. If he moved once, he might move again. I take his hand in mine, feeling so helpless. I bring his cool hand to my lips and press against it. "C'mon, Spike. You're in there somewhere. Come out. I... I need you." I lay my head on his chest, spent. I don't know how much time passes, seconds, minutes. I just rest there, waiting. My eyes start to drift, sleep sneaking up on me. Mental, emotional fatigue taking its toll. The world starts to blur around the edges as I fade. In the space between consciousness and sleep, I feel arms slip around me, squeezing. Mmm. One hand goes to my hair and strokes it gently. Moments later, I feel lips against the top of my head. At least things are good in my dreams...

44. In My Arms

"Buffy..." A deep voice whispers my name.

I jerk to full alert. I start to sit up straight, but something stops me. Arms? Oh god, there really are arms around me. For the second time in the space of a dozen hours, I wake from a dream to find the reality ten times better. From wishing he was here to finding his body against mine. A strangled cry slips from my mouth as I turn my eyes from the arms circling me to the source of the voice. His blue eyes twinkle back at me from a now fully animated face, lips stretching into a smile. He opens his mouth to speak again, but I am on him in a flash.

My lips attack his. You would think I had not tasted him in months, instead of hours. The fear that was twisting my insides is replaced by a flaring passion at his return. He responds, but with slightly less fervor. With concern, I pull back to look at him. He smiles, but I see it now. What happened to him? He is exhausted. Beyond tired, more than I have ever seen him. Well, he did just wake up from an unexplained coma, maybe I should give him a sec.

"I'm sorry... are you okay? I was so... it was so... what happened?" My lack of eloquence brings out another smile as I notice the shadows under his eyes. "Oh, sweetie..." My fingers reach up to his face, gently brushing his cheek. His smile grows and a small chuckle rumbles in his chest.

I stop and look at him quizzically. "What is it?"

"Still not used to you calling me things like "sweetie," luv. Got so used to "pig" and other... less kind nicknames."

"Oh... I can stop..." My eyes spark a bit, playing with him.

He grabs my hand. "Never. Don't ever stop." His sudden intensity is encouraging, a sign of him feeling more like his old self. "Buffy."

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I left you. It wasn't my decision, but still... I promised. Never want to, never will break a promise to you, pet." His eyes are pained; he is really upset.

"I know, I do, honey." I grin. Now that I've started, I can't stop. I see why he likes to use all those endearments for me. It's fun. I'm splashing around in this newly discovered freedom like a kid in a pool. "I never blamed you... but I still don't know what happened to you."

"Well, I had to make one more unscheduled visit to the Powers. Just yanked me out of my body, as you noticed. Not the most comfortable of feelings, luv. I would have warned you if I could." His eyes deepen in concern as he studies my face, sees that I, too, am tired.

"But why? Why did they take you again?"

Spike falls silent. Looks at me like he's never seen truly seen me before. The love shining from his eyes is pouring over me. I feel a tingle down below my waist and I'm sure he can smell my fast-developing arousal at his gaze. He sits up, pulls me on top of him so that I am straddling his waist. My face is mere inches from his.

Finally, he speaks.

"The soul, luv. They gave me my soul."

I stop breathing, stunned into silence. My mouth opens but no sound comes out. My eyes dart back and forth on his, trying desperately to process this information. He has a soul now? I get to love him and he has a soul? Right now, he has a soul? Spike with a soul? The questions tick off in my head as Spike watches the thoughts sprint across my face.

I manage to come up with a few words. "But I thought... what changed?"

His full bottom lip stretches as a smile fills his face, his cheekbones carve the air. "You, luv."

"Me?"

"You. Powers left me with one obstacle after the trials. Told me I could have the soul on one condition."

"Which was?"

"Your love. Buffy, I needed you to love me to get the soul. But I couldn't tell you. I... still can't believe you do. Without a soul, you loved me."

"They were waiting for me to say I loved you? God, Spike, I loved you before you left the first time. The very first time, when you actually left, body and all." It's my turn to stun him. "I can't tell you how sorry I am that I didn't tell you. I didn't know how to handle it." I pause. "It scared me."

"Well, pet, I can understand you being scared of me, evil vampire bloke and all."

"No no, not scared of you. Scared of how I felt. Scared of the love."

"Oh." Spike cocks his head, hands absently stroking my arms. "You loved me then? You mean, the look in your eyes that night was..."

"The real deal, pumpkin." I grin and he can't help but chuckle again. The vibration in his chest passes through to mine and the pleasant sensation only widens my smile. "I don't want to dwell on the past, ducks." I outright giggle after trying out one of his super-British endearments. He shakes his head at me.

"I did love you." I punctuate my statement with a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"And I do." I touch my lips to his cheek.

"And I will." My lips graze his, feeling the cool softness I crave. I pause, pulling back a little, meeting his eyes again, relishing the fact that he is speechless for the first time in his undead life. "Sweetcheeks."

We both laugh and I realize how good this is. How right it feels to lie here in his arms, our laughter shaking us, tears of happiness trickling down my cheeks. I've cried so many of the other kind of tears recently, these refresh me like spring rain. Washing away the grime, the sadness, the past full of struggle and pain.

I feel a heat building between us, our contact exciting our nerve endings. It looks like all my questions about his soul are going to wait just a bit longer. His hands, once stroking my arms, are working up and down my back, stroking slightly harder. I lean closer to his face, still giggling.

My eyes flutter upwards to match his and the sound dies in my throat. His eyes are deeper than ever. I actually see something different there. Something new. I am fascinated but can only wonder that a soul would change a man's eyes. Eyes, windows on the soul? Too cliche, right? Huh. I keep moving, my eyes not budging, showing him my love in their shining depths.

Finally, contact. A hiss, as our lips meet and eyes slip shut. I shiver as the sensation runs screaming down my body. He feels so right. I am keenly aware of every point of contact between us and I decide it is not enough. I reach down and rip his shirt wide open, buttons flying. Our lips separate and he actually gasps. I pull back to sit up and smirk at him. My arms cross in front of me, my hands gripping the hem of my tank top and pulling it off in one quick motion. His expression is shifting from surprise to something much more... sinister. Only sinister in a very good way. I put my hands on either side of his head and ever so slowly, lean forward, rolling each inch of our bare skin together. My breasts crush against his firm chest and I shiver slightly with the sensation, as his cool skin hardens my nipples instantly.

I reach his face but go right past his kissable lips and whisper into his ear. "That's better. I'm just going to have to keep you much closer so you don't run off again." I take his earlobe between my teeth and nibble lightly before tracing his ear with my hot tongue. He growls. God, I love that. Funny how all the things that make him a vampire, those things that used to freak me out, now cause electric shocks to run through me, cause my skin to come alive.

Spike leaps into motion so quickly, my head spins, along with the rest of me. I open my eyes and he is above me, my hands up by my ears, held down by his. And I thought he was too tired. Ha. I guess he found the energy. Vampire stamina. I grin at him and he cocks his head at me.

"Good to see you smile, pet. At me, no less." My smile only grows as he releases my hands. His cool fingers trail down my breastbone and I twitch under his weight. I feel his thighs tighten around my waist, holding me still. He brings each hand to his mouth, wetting the tips of his fingers lightly. I watch his every movement, see his tongue dart out, his fingers returning to my skin, tracing my breasts in ever tightening circles before pinching the nipples lightly, then harder. I arch my back off the bed, pressing my pelvis against his, muscles straining. He's definitely not tired if the bulge in his pants is any indication. This thought must pass across my face like a telegram.

"Like what you feel, luv?" I nod. He's not the only one that can take charge of a situation. I sit up abruptly, startling him. I take full advantage of it and pivot his body so I land on top again. I take both his hands in one of mine and hold them above his head.

"Spike. Honey. If I didn't make it clear before, I missed you. And I aim to remind you how much if you'll just cooperate. Plus there's all the terrible guilt for what you went through on my behalf. Won't you please let me make it up to you?" I widen my eyes and blink innocently at him, enjoying the disbelief on his face. Clearly, he is still getting used to the idea that I love him, honestly, truly and all the way to forever.

"Well, I'm not one to disappoint my lady. Only I can't promise to just lie still, luv. I'm more of a participator than an observer, y'know." He winks at me.

"Wouldn't have it any other way... my love." His slow smile melts me into his arms once again.

45. Climax
 

I feel Spike stir slightly under me. Reluctantly, I shift off him and roll onto the bed, wondering what time it could be. We lost track of time in the midst of getting reacquainted, but it's clearly been a few hours since we both fell asleep. The sun set long ago and I see moonlight trying to shine through my curtains. The same curtains that were pulled tight to protect against the sunlight a few hours ago. I smile a bit as I hear Spike mumbling. He's not quite awake yet and I hear him murmuring my name. I press my lips to his ever so lightly and he smiles in his sleep, curling back up and going slack again. He is really so tired, I can tell.

I slip from the bed, desperate not to wake him just yet. I go to the window, pulling the curtains open a bit, letting the moonlight pour in, gently filling the room with a blue glow. Turning back to the bed, I study my lover, correction, my love. Big difference, that. I can barely keep myself from running back to touch him, kiss him, make him mine all over again. The sheet covers him from the waist down, rumpled around his naked body. The silvery light catches every sharp edge of him, casting shadows across his abs, his chest, his sculptural arms. He looks more like marble in this light than any other. His head moves a bit and his face comes into the light. I have to hold back a gasp at the beauty that is Spike. His hair is silver-white, his features detailed in shades of blue and gray and black. And better still, I know what courses through that still body. A love held in an undead heart, warmer than most humans know. A soul, young and fresh, filling him from the inside out with newness, rebirth. Kindness, wit, sensuality... god, I love him. Somehow, in my wacky life, it seems appropriate that our "relationship" began with him trying to kill me and vice versa. And yet here we are. I trust him, I love him. I never would have believed it. I smile wryly. How things do change.

I turn back to the window, gazing into the darkness, feeling the slight chill through the window on my bare skin. I know that when the sun comes up in several hours, things will begin to change even more. The "real" world, the world that revolves outside the orbit of Spike and I, will begin to intrude again. Questions will be asked and I will be forced to explain how I could love him. How could I not? At this point, it's like asking me not to breathe to not love him. I'm drunk on it, living on it, breathing it in gulps. I lean forward, pressing my forehead against the cool glass, willing the world to stay away a bit longer.

With a quiet born of a hundred years of night, his arms slide around my waist and pull me to him. I never even heard him move. I relax into his body, my head moving back to rest against his shoulder. He kisses my cheek lightly. "You okay, luv?" His velvet voice sends shivers down my spine.

I turn inside his arms, finding his dark eyes with my own. "Never better." He sees something in my eyes that makes him hesitate.

"What is it, Buffy?"

I finally break eye contact, sighing deeply. I gesture weakly at the window. "The world, Spike. The world is coming in a few hours."

His eyebrows knit together as he studies me. "Help me out, pet..."

I smile wanly. "When the sun comes up, Spike. I'm scared things will change. The world may not be ready for us... for us as US, y'know?"

"Can I tell you something, Buffy?" I nod. He brings one hand up, pushing hair out of my eyes and gently tucking it behind my ear. Reaching around me, Spike yanks the curtains closed again. "The world can bloody well kiss my ass." He grins at me and I can't help it, I laugh. And laugh. It feels so good to laugh, I let go a bit and enjoy it. I flash a big smile at him when I recover.

"So, we'll face it together, right? Tell 'em to kiss our collective asses?" I smirk at him.

"That's the plan. Think it'll work?" His eyes dance as he wraps his arms around my back, tickling my bare skin.

I reach up to his face, fingers splayed on his cheek, thumb brushing across his lips. I stretch up to kiss him, and breathe out my answer, "Yes. More yes than ever before." I look down briefly, then back up at him. "I believe you and I... you and I can do anything, Spike. I know that sounds totally cheesy, but I think it may be true." I dart my eyes down, feeling suddenly shy in front of him.

He lifts my chin with one finger, his eyes deadly serious. His voice sounds almost choked as he whispers, "Buffy, it is true. You and me, luv. Do you believe it?"

I don't trust my voice, so I nod. I cannot believe how the emotions threaten to swallow me whole when I'm with him. To think I wanted to kill him, that I didn't believe in him for so long. And yet, he put everything on the line just for me. Changed his very nature for me. I shake my head in disbelief.

He looks at me curiously, "Is it yes or no, luv?"

"OH! It's yes, Spike. Sorry, I was just thinking... I still can't believe all you did. The trials, the soul... it just boggles the mind. No one's ever loved me like that."

"Well, it just goes to show that those other men were complete wankers. 'Cause now someone does." His small smile makes my heart flip flop. I shiver a little bit and realize how chill it is in the room when you don't have any clothes on. Spike runs his hands up and down my arms. "Pet, you're freezing! Let's get back in bed."

"Oh, sure, I bet you say that to all the girls." His wolfish grin makes me giggle as I let him pull me back toward the bed. I reach out and pinch him on the butt and he actually jumps. Spike's blue eyes squint back at me.

"Why, Buffy, you little vixen!"

I widen my eyes as innocently as I can manage in the circumstances. "Who, me?"

"I don't see anyone else in here with her hands on my bum."

"To be honest, it was just one hand, but I can fix that." I reach around him with both hands and squeeze the body part in question. With lightning quick reflexes, Spike grabs me up and tosses me unceremoniously on the bed. I bounce once and then lie there, watching him. His eyes have gone dark and he spends just a few more seconds looking down at me, tangled in the bedsheets, cheeks flushed. I see the muscle in his jaw twitch as he maintains control of his desires a bit longer. I tempt him terribly by squirming a bit.

Finally, he crawls into the bed, taking both my hands in his. He holds our hands by my waist as he kisses my inner thigh. The wetness of his tongue makes me twitch. He uses his body to urge my legs further apart and I feel his mouth move closer to my slit. His tongue darts in, cool heaven, and I moan low in my throat. Repeated over and over, the movements of his tongue drive me toward the edge, but he doesn't let me go. Every time he pulls back, I want to scream. As the pattern continues, I begin to whimper. I bite my lip as he looks up to me, my eyes pleading with his for release. He moves up slightly, pressing his lips into the soft skin just below my navel. Up he comes, closer to my face, his body slowly covering mine as he keeps both my hands in his, pulling them slowly above my head. Stretched out underneath him, I feel every bit of my skin taut and waiting. I don't have to wait very long. He shifts between my legs, I feel his firm cock nudging at my entrance. He knows that I am fully ready for him, but still he lifts an eyebrow at me. Our hands locked together, this is the only other contact between us. I can't take anymore. I lift my eyebrows at him in return and wrap my legs around his back, urging him in. The muscles in his back tighten as he fights my Slayer strength. Oh, so it's like that. "Slow and easy, eh?" He nods, still silent. "Talk to me. I want to hear your voice."

He swallows and I see the muscles in his throat, tight and visible. A small shiver runs through his body. "I want you so badly right now, Buffy, I'm afraid to talk. I'll lose control."

"Then lose it, hon. Never hold back. I can take it. I want it. I'm the Slayer." I wink at him and I see some of the tension fade. My voice drops to a husky whisper. "Now, Spike. Come to me."

It's all the encouragement he needs. He slides all the way in slowly, but steadily, not stopping until he can go no further. I strain against his hands, absorbing the sensation. Our fingers, laced together, tighten their grip. We lock eyes, silent messages telegraphed from their depths. I feel us building it, building the connection, brick by brick, that will keep the world from tearing us apart. Reinforcing the layers of pain, of time and trust, of love and finally, of belonging. I've been adrift for so long now, not so much anchored to this world, as much as stuck here. The love and well-wishes of my sister and friends not penetrating the fog. He was the only one. Not a friend, not a relative. Just Spike. Slowly, I started to see why I came to him. He was honest, he touched me somewhere unreachable by everyone else. He didn't force me to be cheerful, to pretend everything was okay. Most of the time, he was happy to just be with me and I with him. Little did I know that all the things that happened between us - the violence, the years of fighting - would eventually dissolve into this burning love. I was just slower to reach it than he was. And god, he did love me. Loves me still. Clutches my hands and penetrates my eyes and body with that love. I wonder how much of what I am thinking he can see in my eyes. What I see in his lets me think that he understands quite enough.

He moves slightly, gently pulling almost out of me and back in again. He sets a rhythm and I join him in it. Slow and purposeful, weaving a spell of silence around us. The only sound the gentle rustle of the sheets, the slide of skin on skin, my long breaths. My breaths grow shorter and shorter as the rhythm brings us closer and closer to climax. Our grip on each other's hands remains strong. Holding to each other like two drowning souls, refusing to go under. Willing ourselves to go on, together. When the height finally reaches us, tears well to my eyes and I let them roll freely down my cheeks. He thrusts once more, sealing the moment. I cry out, one clear call pulled from my own depths. His deep moan matches it in intensity and ferocity. Our hands come down from above our heads and release. I wrap my arms around him and his go around me tightly, pulling me against him on his side. I blend into his body, letting him borrow my warmth as I drift to sleep, the world forgotten.

* * * * *

I wake still in his arms, warmth filling the room from the early sunlight that makes the curtains glow. My eyes quickly look him over, making sure no sunlight reaches him. Welcome to your new life, Buffy. Make sure your love doesn't catch on fire in the morning. I can't help but smile a little bit at the strangeness of it. The smile fades as I realize it is really morning and I am really in love with a vampire. Am I crazy? Do I even care if I am? I turn a bit in his grasp, to see his face. At rest, Spike is an angel. Not the sappy, cutesy kind, but an archangel, a warrior. Blond hair, full mouth, lashes resting against his carved cheeks, a face full of strength, violence, devotion, love. Without permission, my finger reaches out, gently tracing his cheekbone, sliding down to rest on his bottom lip. The lashes flutter a bit as he feels my warmth on his face. He is still asleep, relaxed in my presence, but his mouth twitches up slightly. Mine. He is mine and I am his, heart and bloody soul. I can't help but grin. Even my thoughts are touched with Spike-isms.

With all the stealth I can muster, I begin to slip from his arms. The smile fades as my warmth moves away. I lean back and press my lips to that mouth, feeling the gentle curve, the soft flesh. He relaxes and lets me go. I spot a folded piece of paper just under the door. Looking back to make sure Spike is still asleep., I reach down to pick it up. Flipping it open, I recognize Willow's strong letters.

"Buffy,

I'll be in my room if you need anything. I came to check on Spike last night, but the door was closed... and well, it sounded like things were just fine."

"Seriously, I'm glad he's back in the land of the living. Well, you know what I mean. See you in the morning.

Will"

Chuckling to myself, I look up at my reflection in the mirror above the dresser and am appalled at the state of my hair. I touch it, attempting to make it lie down. A deep voice makes me jump.

"Looks great, luv. Come back to bed?" The bed appears rumpled but empty in the mirror. Of course. Vampire. I turn and there he is, leaning on one elbow and smirking at me. Guess I should know better than to think I could be quiet enough not to wake him. I take a few slow steps towards him as his eyes dance down my body in silent approval. Pulling up the covers, I slide back in, letting him gather me in and press his lips to my forehead. "Love you, Slayer," he murmurs into my hair.

"Love you too, Spike." My mouth finds his and my arms wrap around him as we fall into each other once again.
 

The world will just have to wait a few more hours for our debut.