In all her years, four to be exact, of having this huge weight on her shoulders, of protecting the world, of killing the things that went bump in the night...

All this time and the prospect had never crossed her mind that something like this could happen. It just didn’t fit the logic of her town. Therefore, there was no other emotion for her to feel but shock and numbness when the person only a few feet away shot his first bullet into the air.

Time, as cliché as it sounds, seemed to slow down, as if she was watching the special effects of some movie. The individual holding the gun, the out-of-control look on his face, and the first student that was shot.

It was all like a time bomb.

She could only gape as victim number one began to drop; everyone’s screams were muted as her eyes focused on the victim’s face. But the instant his body hit the floor, everything rushed into place.

Buffy Summers was suddenly very aware of the panicked body of students rushing around her, and of the fact that the shooter was about to fire again. It was her instincts that finally made her run forward. Those few seconds she’d wasted were precious, and she didn’t want to have to think what could happen because of how she had let the astonishment take over.

“Get down!” She ordered loudly at the others before he could fire again. Most of them did, and the bullet was a stray.

That’s when Buffy saw her. She knew now what those few seconds had cost her.

Faith stood there, not in distress, but with a look of annoyance and rage on her face. Buffy’s eyes widened a little. Faith thought she could take this guy out on her own.

Faith and Buffy had never been close. If she had any enemy at the school, it would have to be Faith. Well, her and Cordelia Chase. But not even her human enemies deserved to die.

Faith heatedly started walking toward the shooter, her intent to stop him.

Don’t try to play the hero in this, Buffy’s mind begged the brunette.

“Faith, no!” She yelled, and the slow motion set in again, as Buffy found she couldn’t move fast enough. Two bullets were fired, one right after the other. The shooter’s empty smile began to fade into a look of shock.

She watched as Faith fell, a look of pain and regret on the brunette’s face as her eyes locked with the Slayer’s. The noise seemed to die down to Buffy, though it really only got louder. But she didn’t have time to take the death in, not completely.

The next thing she knew the shooter raised the gun to his own head, probably troubled by what he’d done. With her full momentum, Buffy ran forward and tackled him to the ground. The gun slid across the floor and everyone backed up from it as if being near it alone would get them killed.

The boy, because no real man could do this, the boy she now had pinned beneath her began to cry and yell things she couldn’t understand.

She had no pity for him, not in that moment, and she almost questioned why she had even stopped him from ending his life. He’d ended another, after all.

Everything went more quickly after that, making up for the moments where everything had slowed down. Before she knew it, the police had come, and the boy was gone.

Her stomach twisted in impossible knots as she let her eyes travel to the two victims. The first she recognized as Xander Harris, a pleasant guy who always had a few jokes ready, but someone she had never really gotten to know. He was alive, though, and getting help for the bullet wound.

She let her eyes finally move to the inevitable scene.

Faith wasn’t moving. Her glassy eyes were widened slightly, unblinking. Blood had pooled inside her moth, and a few drops were now dried at the corner of her pale lips. The blood had stopped spreading around the floor now, which meant she was no longer bleeding. No longer alive.

A few of Faith’s friends stared helplessly, and others screamed in anguish and fear. And Faith’s boyfriend William “Spike” Emerson was now at her side, her head cradled in his lap as he tried to soothe life back into her. Life that wasn’t there.

Buffy could only stare weakly, her eyes wide as she let the situation sink into her mind. She gripped for the wall behind her, and held forcefully as she watched the pain in the eyes surrounding her.

She should have been able to stop this. It had only been a teenage boy.

It was only a school shooting.

She’d saved the world, took down the Master, fought every type of creature imagined.

And yet she hadn’t been able to save a life from a simple school shooting.

The monster this time was nothing but a man. Nothing but an insecure, scared little boy. And she had let him get away with injuring one and killing another.

She noticed Giles in the hallway now, staring at her with concern in his eyes, and her own began to fill with tears. Without warning, she took off down the hallway, not looking back.

---

His eyes were empty.

She had noticed that. She hadn’t paid attention to the preacher, or Faith’s parents who said a few kind words about their daughter and then returned to their grief. She didn’t know why, but she found herself watching Spike.

He hadn’t cried at all the day of the funeral. He hadn’t risen his gaze from the coffin either. And not once did his expression change, not even when they lowered Faith into the ground.

Giles was at her side, and he had already done plenty of reassuring to let her know it wasn’t her fault.

But it was her fault. She could have stopped this.

Buffy looked confused for a moment when people began to walk away, and then realized that it was over. Most were leaving, and even Giles said his goodbye to her, but Spike stayed.

The sky was darkening now, and there wasn’t much daylight left to go on. She needed to try and hurry him out before anything got to him.

She went over and stood by his side, and he took in a shaky breath.

“Listen, Sp-”

“You say you’re sorry and I’ll kill you,” he said quietly, but with all the venom he could muster. She had expected some type of hostility. There had never been anything but an extreme dislike between them, after all. But his words made her hesitate for a moment.

There was a long silence, before she finally replied.

“Well, I am,” she said calmly, and he gave her a dangerous look.

“Really?” He asked, his tone cold. “Don’t give me that shit, Summers,” he said with all the hate he could find within himself. “You never cared about me. You certainly never cared about her. You let this happen.”

Buffy had blamed herself, sure. But when other people implied that she was the cause of a death, she tended to get defensive.

“How the hell is this my fault?”

“I’m not stupid. And I’m not blind. This town isn’t like others, and you’re not like other...well, you’re not like anyone. Things happen and you have a way of being there. Things go wrong and you save people. Yet, for some reason, there have been two times where you’ve allowed someone who was close to me to die.”

Buffy stared at him, her eyes narrowing and her anger becoming more apparent. “You know that wasn’t-”

“Whatever,” he mumbled. “You let Dru die, then Faith. Then you go and save the bastard that killed Faith.”

“That’s because he was going to kill himself.”

“Does it matter? He murdered someone, and then wanted to end his own miserable existence. Would’ve been a bloody gift to the world..”

“No,” she said simply, but firmly, and he just turned his head away, taking a deep breath. With another of his comments still tugging the back of her mind, she added, “And I didn’t let Dru die.”

He wasted no time in trying to prove her wrong.

“That mugger did something to her, and instead of helping me get her to a hospital, you went after him. That’s what the police are here for, Summers.”

Buffy let herself return to the memory. It had been a little over a year ago, during their junior year. Drusilla and Spike had gotten caught in the alley with a vampire. Spike had been beaten pretty bad, and Dru had been bitten and thrown to the side before Buffy had even found them. And when the vampire took off, she’d gone after it, telling a passerby to call the police, which he did.

“I did what I had to do,” Buffy said through clenched teeth.

“Whatever,” he said again, shrugging to dismiss her. But he didn’t seem to mind much, or he was just ignoring her, as she continued to stand there, staring at the freshly covered grave.

As long as the silence lingered between them, Buffy let her mind travel to the years before. She and Spike hadn’t met until middle school, and he’d teased and picked on her up until the ninth grade. That was when she’d gotten tired of it and punched him in the nose.

She hadn’t known at the time that she was a newly-called Slayer, so when she had sent Spike soaring back a few feet, that had surprised her quite a bit. Soon, Rupert Giles, her Watcher, had brought the news. One girl in all the world...

The Chosen One.

Since then, both teenagers had avoided each other whenever possible, and brought each other down whenever they were around each other. After Dru’s death, his dislike for Buffy had fully turned into hate. Of that she was sure.

Buffy had no doubt that the “relationship” between Faith and Spike had been based on nothing but what happened behind the bedroom doors. It was easy to see that he had cared for Faith and that her death was cutting through him. But she had always wondered whether the feelings went any further than that.

“Did you love her?” Buffy asked quietly, breaking the silence.

He didn’t look up. “Faith?” He asked and she nodded. “I could have,” he said finally, quietly as if he was ashamed for not caring about her more. “She was more like a best friend than anything, I guess. And Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t leave now, you’re going to become the first girl I’ve ever hit.”

She clenched her jaw a little, but didn’t move. “Can’t do that,” she told him, seeing that the sun was now completely set.

“Why’s that, now?”

She studied him for a moment, lips tight. “Because,” she began quietly. “This isn’t like other towns,” she told him, repeating his earlier words.

He raised an eyebrow and let out a cold laugh. “What, are you my protector now?”

Her expression didn’t change at all as she continued to look at him. “You need to go home, Spike,” she said softly. Without thinking, she attempted to gently pull him away from the grave. He roughly shoved her away. And boy, if looks could kill…

“You need to stay the bleeding hell away from me,” he said dangerously. She bowed her head when he turned away from her, and by the time she looked back in his direction, he had disappeared from the cemetery.

She expelled a shaky breath, not wanting to let time catch up to her yet.

Finally, Buffy looked down at the grave with a long sigh. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Her words, along with the emotions of the day, began to drift through the night, leaving her drained and once again feeling nothing but guilt.

And after a long pause, she walked through the cemetery, making sure to let no vampire walk that night.

She didn’t need any more deaths on her hands.

Every ounce of guilt that made itself known, every tear that threatened to drop, and every time she wanted to curse the bleached idiot for blaming her. She channeled all of it into pure rage.

She was letting the Slayer out to play, and giving it all the fuel it needed to kill. There wouldn’t be any more bodies in this town.

Not tonight. Not after so much had already happened.

It was later that night, the night of the funeral. Just five short days after the shooting. After Spike had left the cemetery, Buffy had nearly fallen into a state of tears and self-pitying. That was until her first demon showed up.

She’d already found and killed two demons and three vampires throughout town.

And it had only been two hours since Spike left her alone.

But her energy was beginning to wear down, and she had no anger left to put out. She was completely drained.

Thoughts of “what if” and “what now” continued to dance through her mind, threatening to bring her to tears yet again.

What if she had been able to stop the killer sooner? What if Faith hadn’t died?

Where do I go from here...?

If it were up to principal Snyder, they would’ve been back in school the day after the shooting. Parents fought him on that, and he settled for the not-so-happy medium of allowing students about a week to recuperate.

But she didn’t know how she was supposed to go back and face everyone. She realized that, like Spike, the students had probably all counted on her to be their savior, to take him down before he’d even had a chance to bring his gun out.

Even if they hadn’t expected quite so much from her, they had all seen her save the killer from ending his own life. They wouldn’t understand that it was something she had to do. They wouldn’t see it as saving a life.

They would see it as saving a murderer who deserved to die.

As she thrust her stake into the heart of her last vampire of the night, she slumped against the side of a building, putting a hand over her eyes and willing it all away.

These past few days had been draining her completely dry, and she felt like there wasn’t anything left.

Funny how much a death could hurt when it wasn’t even of someone she was close to.

After a moment, she finally let her hand drop from her face, letting out a long sigh as she stepped away from the brick wall. She surveyed her surroundings, realizing that the fights of the night had led her to an alley not to far from the Bronze.

Feeling like she just needed to go and relax, she concealed her wooden weapon and started for the club.

-----

She couldn’t believe how much a place could change within a matter of five days.

The Bronze was usually crowded, loud, full of life.

Now, there were less than half the people that were usually there. There was no live band, as there usually was. And the people that were there all had places to sit, blankly staring off into nothing.

No one looked over when she came in, despite the fact that the door opening and shutting was practically the only form of noise there was.

She recognized most of the people here as her fellow classmates. Some sat at tables, some on the couches, but hardly anyone spoke.

The entire scene screamed of death and pain.

It wasn’t that everyone there was mourning over the loss of Faith. Some hadn’t even known her. And while Faith usually respected those around her, she had never been incredibly nice to everyone. Some were without a doubt experiencing loss, sure. But what upset them more was the fact that a shooting had actually happened.

They were all so used to dealing with strange occurrences, unexplainable beings. So when a mortal man became the object of their nightmares, it had brought them to a place where they hadn’t been before.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Buffy began to make her way over to the bar when she noticed none other than Spike sitting there.

She hesitated, almost turning around to walk out. But then she simply shook her head and continued over.

She smiled at the bartender and ordered a Coke, then turned to Spike.

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” he said with a chuckle, and she jumped slightly. She thought that he hadn’t seen her yet. “A bloke might think you’re the stalkin’ type.”

She sighed at the slur in his voice and the beer in his hand. When her own beverage was set down in front of her, she glared at the bartender. In Sunnydale, being as small as it was, it wasn’t that hard for a minor to get a beer if they wanted to. Sometimes they’d run you out, but when it wasn’t crowded and it was late, you could most likely drink to your heart’s content. Turning back to Spike, she stated the obvious.

“You’re drunk.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, luv.” She raised an eyebrow at the pet name, then shook it off.

He sighed when he finished the one in his hand and then looked ready to order another. “I don’t think so,” Buffy said, and he turned to glare at her.

“Please,” he said simply. “You’re not my mother.”

“Nice comeback, Spike. Did anyone ever tell you that somehow you get even less intelligent when you’re drunk?”

He rolled his eyes at her retort and shrugged. “Doesn’ matter how dumb I sound. Still smarter than you.”

She shook her head a little and drank some of her Coke. They fell into silence for a good while, both of them getting lost in their distant stares. Finally, Buffy spoke again.

“How are you? I mean besides the whole drowning your sorrows thing,” she asked quietly.

He let out a humorless, cold chuckle and looked to the ceiling for a moment. “I feel like I just lost someone I cared greatly about, and that the bastard that killed her gets to go on living.” He paused, looking at her to make his point. “You?”

“Look, I know this is hard, but-”

“Don’t feed me that crap, Summers,” he said in a low voice. “You don’t know a bleeding thing. You sit up on your high horse, thinking that you’re better than the rest of us. Then pretend to care when we get hurt.”

“You’re not even making sense, Spike,” she pointed out with a sigh.

“My point is, you don’t know what real pain is. You ever lost anyone? Ever had to watch someone you love die? You haven’t ever had to go through what we go through.”

She felt herself getting angrier with each word he said. “Pray tell, who is ‘we’?”

“People. You give yourself a pat on the back for a job well done when you think you’ve helped someone. Truth is, you can’t help hurting people when you’ve never hurt a day in your life.”

She had to bite the side of her mouth to keep from saying anything at first. Finally, when she felt herself somewhat calmed, she replied.

“First of all, I experience death every night after the sun goes down,” she said, not caring if she was giving away anything of her calling at the moment, but also thinking he’d forget by tomorrow anyway. “Second of all, you don’t have to watch someone die to know what pain is.” She paused, shaking her head. “Get up.”

“What the...bloody hell, no,” he said angrily.

“I said, get up,” she said again, standing up. “I’m going home. And I don’t want you getting killed tonight only to have your ghost come back and haunt me.” She looked toward the bartender who had paused with a strange look on his face and an eyebrow raised. “Get up,” she said, looking at Spike again.

He glared at her and stood up, opened his mouth to yell at her, and then nearly passed out. Stumbling for a moment, he tried to regain himself.

Before he could, Buffy was pulling on his arm and practically dragging him from the club. They were outside the doors when Spike was finally able to pull away. Buffy raised an eyebrow at how strong he was even while drunk.

Maybe I’m just having an off night after fighting all those demons, she thought and shrugged it from her mind.

“Listen. I don’t have to do a damn thing you bleeding ask me to,” he yelled, taking a step back and nearly crashing as he did so. “The only reason I’m going home is because I want to,” he said with an almost childlike tone, and she raised an eyebrow but put her hands up in surrender.

“I’m still walking you home,” she told him firmly.

“Like hell you are.”

“Shut up.” Her voice held some anger this time and her look left no room for argument. “You want to get killed? Too bad,” she said simply.

Rolling his eyes, he pushed her arm away when she tried to help him again. “I can walk, woman.”

It took all of two minutes before he began to stumble and Buffy found herself with his arm around her shoulder as he leaned on her to walk. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll-”

“Trust me. I won’t.”

“Ha bloody ha,” he muttered.

It wasn’t long before they reached his house. However, it took longer for Spike to find his key, and Buffy found herself growing tired of standing outside the house.

“Why don’t you just knock so your parents will let you in?”

“Parents aren’t home,” he mumbled absentmindedly. “Da’ is usually out of town. Mum’s working at the hospital a lot lately.” He looked to her for a moment. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m waiting for you to open the door,” she said with that ‘don’t argue with me’ tone of hers.

Finally, he pulled his key out of his jeans pocket and struggled with it before finally getting the door open.

Buffy was ready to walk away when he began to fall before he could even get inside of the house. With her Slayer speed, she rushed forward and caught him before he could hit the ground. She expected him to start trying to stand up on his own, and sighed when he didn’t move at all.

“Spike?” No answer. “Spike?” Looking down at him, she realized that he was now unconscious. “Damn it,” she muttered. With the strength that she had, he wasn’t all that heavy at all, but it still felt strange for her to be carrying him. Once inside the door, she shut it behind her with her foot and started up the stairs, which surprisingly, was a little harder than she thought it would be.

Finally, she was upstairs, going from door to door in the hallway to find his room. He was starting to come to, groaning a little bit. Ignoring him for the moment, she found his room and carried him over to the bed.

It was more than tempting to just throw him on there and leave, but she sighed and gently helped him onto the bed. She wasn’t able to see very well in the darkness, so she went over and turned the lamp on his desk on.

He groaned a little bit and looked over to her, rubbing at his eyes. “I’ve been hit by a truck, and now I’m in hell,” he muttered.

“Not exactly,” Buffy replied, sitting back down.

Spike briefly wondered how in the world a tiny thing like her could have carried him up the stairs, but it left his brain almost as instantly as it came.

“You need anything?” She questioned.

She expected him to be his usual stubborn self and refuse, but to her surprise, he asked her to go downstairs and get him some aspirin.

She was halfway back up the stairs with what he’d requested when she heard a loud noise and hurried back up. She arrived in time to see Spike, boots, duster and shirt now off, with half of his room now all over the floor. If the look of pure anger was any hint, then he wasn’t feeling to happy at the moment.

He didn’t look over at her, though she was sure that he knew she was there. He stood not too far from his bed, one of his fists clenched tightly. “You okay?” She asked softly, not afraid, because she knew she could take him if it came down to it, but a little worried for him. He didn’t answer, and she walked over to him.

When she reached out to hand him the water, she jumped and yelped slightly when he angrily knocked the glass from her hands.

She found herself with his angry gaze on her now, and despite the knowledge that he couldn’t hurt her, she still found herself backing up a little. “What the hell are you doing?” He demanded.

“Me?! I’m not the one throwing a temper tantrum!” She said loudly, feeling tension grow in her stomach. Her back hit the wall and he moved forward, harshly hitting the wall on each side of her head. Feeling trapped wasn’t a feeling the Slayer liked, but for some reason, she didn’t fight.

“You think that you can make me forget how all of this is you fault?” He demanded. “That you can just come in here, pretend to care and take care of me, and I’ll what? Turn to you for comfort?”

“Look, I was just trying to help,” she yelled angrily.

Oops.

Yelling. Huge mistake.

She found out that Spike was really drunk.

Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders, harshly brought her a little away from the wall, and then slammed her back against it. She winced in pain, and she briefly wondered where all of her own strength had gone, and why Spike was able to hurt her with a simple shove. Must be really angry, she concluded.

Once again he had his hands on either side of her. “Shut. Up,” he said dangerously.

Somewhere, despite her better judgment, she found herself arguing with him again. “You can’t just keep blaming all of this on me! I never-”

She found herself suddenly interrupted again. Which wasn’t so surprising, because Spike never let her get a complete sentence out.

No, the surprise was that he was using his mouth to shut her up. But in the form of kissing, not yelling.

Still in shock, she didn’t return the kiss. She never got the chance before he suddenly pulled away. With wide eyes, she waited, not having a clue as to what he was going to do.

She got her answer when he none-too-gently pulled her to him and crashed his lips upon hers with a brutal kiss.

The weird thing was, she actually found herself kissing him back.

There was no way that she wasn’t in an episode of the Twilight Zone right now. No freaking way.

He was drunk; she knew that. But she also knew that he’d sobered up enough to know what he was doing.

And everything inside of her said that she needed to pull away. She didn’t love him. She didn’t even like him.

He was the one to pull away, first, though, needing to breathe. There was a brief, almost non-existent moment of tenderness when he rested his forehead against hers. And before she could react at all, she found herself harshly pushed against the wall again. She winced a little, but as he moved back toward her, she saw the sadness in his eyes. The utter pain and anguish of losing yet another that he cared for.

And when he began to kiss her again, his hands now moving to the hem of her shirt, all thoughts of breaking away diminished.

He needed this.

He’d probably regret it tomorrow, and hate her until the end of time. But right now, this was the only form of comfort and apology she could offer him.

And maybe she needed it to.

She would let him have tonight.

She could feel the aches before she even opened her eyes. Honestly, she expected to wake up in her own bed, feeling the aftermath of a bad fight.

But when she opened her eyes, it all came rushing back to her.

She was still at Spike’s house. Still in his bed.

Still unnaturally close to the still-sleeping, broken man next to her.

Realizing where she still was, Buffy slowly sat up, cringing slightly at how the ache seemed to continually build instead of get better. It shouldn’t have surprised her, though. Last night was not the picture of a gentle, honeymoon lovemaking.

It had been about him getting his comfort, sure. But it was obvious at points that it had also been about his anger against her.

Luckily for her, she was the Slayer. Otherwise her few occasional bruises would have been worse.

What bothered her more was the fact that he hadn’t known that she could take it. And while Spike was angry, she knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone. Especially not like that. Which led her back to last night, the points where he’d shown he had strength as well. Shrugging it out of her mind again, she was determined to not let it bother her.

Holding the sheet over her chest, she ran a hand through her hair and let out a quiet sigh.

Hearing a soft groan, she turned to look over at him. He was just beginning to wake up. And if the small whimper that escaped him was any indication, Buffy knew he was feeling the pains of his inevitable hangover.

It didn’t surprise her. In fact, she had prepared after he had passed out the night before. Reaching over, she picked up the glass of water that she’d gone to get a second time and the pills.

“Here,” she said softly, holding them out as he turned over. He seemed startled for a moment, most likely forgetting anyone had even been there.

He stared up at her for a long moment, and it all came rushing back to him.

“Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered, eyes wide, but took the glass and pills. He stared at her through narrow eyes for a long time before he finally took the pills and put the cup on his nightstand.

Silence. And more staring.

This was something she hadn’t prepared for. The awkward silence.

And more staring.

“How much do you remember?” She finally asked.

“Pretty much all ‘f it,” he answered with a long sigh, but at least he wasn’t freaking out like she thought he would.

Maybe he hadn’t been as drunk as I thought, or at least, sober enough to remember.

But she could see it in his eyes. Last night had meant nothing, and he probably just wished she would leave.

But she knew that the same thing was probably reflected in her own eyes.

For some reason, he was all with the quiet. Which probably meant he was feeling somewhat guilty for being so rough the night before. Sighing, she realized she needed to make this a little easier for him.

“Want to turn around? I need to get dressed,” she asked him in a bored tone with a raised eyebrow, which he returned.

“What’s the matter, pet? Not like I didn’t see it all last night.” He smirked slightly and she rolled her eyes. Why was he making jokes about this instead of shoving her out of the house? He was being incredibly calm for a man that blamed her for the death of those he loved.

“Turn around or I’ll pull your eyes out of your head, Spike,” she said flatly. Sighing, he dropped his head back on the pillow, pulling the blanket over his head as she got out of the bed.

She had to bite her lip to keep from letting out a cry of pain, not wanting him to feel guilty for it.

That was weird.

She wouldn’t have cared a few weeks ago how guilty she made him feel. But he had gone through so much, that she didn’t feel like adding anything to the weight on his shoulders. Closing her eyes tightly, she pulled her jeans on, buttoning them up, and then pulled her shirt down.

“Done now,” she mumbled. He brought the blanket down, but she didn’t notice as she picked up her shoes and socks. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she brought her foot up to put them on and cringed as a shot of pain went through her.

“What’s wrong?” His voice startled her, and she looked back to him with slightly wide eyes.

“What?”

“I suppose you don’t make those faces every time you put your socks on. So what’s wrong?” He smirked slightly, then. “Worn out, pet?”

“No. And nothing’s wrong,” she mumbled, and looked away as she finished putting her shoes on.

He sighed deeply, annoyed that she seemed to be acting like normal, bitchy Buffy.

“Was I that...” He trailed off for a moment, a look of guilt crossing his face for a moment. He hated her, and sometimes he really felt like he wanted to wring her neck. But he didn’t actually want to hurt her. “Was I too hard?” He asked finally.

In truth, he hadn’t been. That wasn’t the problem. He hadn’t been gentlemanly; that was for sure, but it hadn’t been unbearable. “No,” she answered, shaking her head. “It was just...a lot, but not too much,” she told him, but he didn’t look convinced.

Suddenly, his eyes widened in realization. “Bleeding fu...” He let the curse die on his lips as he stared at her. “Last night was your first, wasn’t it?” He asked. But his tone wasn’t teasing or trying to victimize her like he usually would. He sounded shocked and a little alarmed.

“What?” She said, a little too defensively. “No, no. Of course not. Please...”

“Buffy,” he said flatly. “Were you...”

She sighed, looking away for a moment. “Yeah. A virgin,” she answered for him, then looked back over. “Does it matter?”

“Does it...Hell, I may hate you, but...Bloody hell...I wouldn’t want to...A girl’s first time hurts anyway. And I...bloody...”

“Spike,” she said, cutting him off from any further rambling. “Don’t worry about it. Buffy’s a big girl. She can take it.”

He didn’t look like he believed her. “Does it hurt too much?” He asked, knowing that he had used the night before as a way to take out his anger on her as much as he had wanted to just feel something besides pain.

“No,” she told him. “I promise. I’ve felt worse.” When he only continued to stare at her, she rolled her eyes. “What?”

“Well...you’re a girl.”

“Really? I never noticed,” she said sarcastically.

“I’m just saying,” he started irritably. “Don’t chits dream of roses and satin sheets for their first time?”

“I suppose most normal girls would,” she replied with a shrug. It’s not like she hadn’t wanted that. Quite the opposite. But she was the Slayer. No daydreaming for her.

“And what...?” He prodded

“Well, I gave up on trying to be a normal girl a long time ago,” she muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Bloody hell, you’re in high school, your whole life’s ahead of you. Enlighten me, Summers, why can’t you have a normal life?”

She looked over to him, suddenly very aware that he was poking into her personal life instead of threatening her to get out of the house.

“Why do you care?” She retorted. “You got what you wanted last night. We don’t need to make this any weirder than it is by pretending that we care. I don’t, and I know you certainly don’t.”

He glared at her, his eyes darkening a little bit. “No, I don’t. But I figured that I should probably try to make you feel a little less like a whore.”

He watched as she pretended that the comment didn’t bother her, but he caught the flash of pain. “As I recall, you’re the one who threw himself at me.”

“And you were the sober one that let it happen,” he retorted. “Bloody hell, just leave. Last night didn’t-”

She rolled her eyes, then cut him off. “Yeah, I know. You still hate me. You still blame me for the things gone wrong. I’m not stupid, Spike. Last night wasn’t you having a change of heart. I knew that as soon as you started it. You think I expected you to wake me up with kisses and promises of forever?” She snorted slightly and stood up, looking around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “I know the deal, Spike. You needed it, and I gave it to you. Nothing more. It meant nothing. I get it. And if you think it bothers me, then-”

“Then once again, I ask, why the bleeding hell are you still in my house?”

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither wanting to admit that their words to each other were actually hurting a little bit. Without saying anything else, Buffy turned from his bedroom and started out.

When he heard the front door slamming, he was left to stare blankly at the wall. He had to wonder why her saying that it meant nothing had hurt him at all. He wasn’t ready to break out into tears over it. But it had caused him the smallest amount of hurt.

But why?

“Bloody hell, I’ve still got to be completely drunk,” he concluded and sank back under the sheets.

-----

By the time she got home, her enhanced healing had kicked in on overdrive, and the ache that had been there before was nearly gone.

She would honestly have to say that was one of the only perks of being the Slayer.

Slowly, she opened her front door and carefully made her way inside.

“Well good morning.” She winced at her mother’s tone and shut the door before turning to face her. Buffy opened her mouth to speak, and Joyce simply held up her hand. “Where were you?”

“A friend’s,” she lied. Spike was definitely not a friend. “She was a friend of Faith’s and needed someone.”

“Is there a reason you couldn’t have called?”

God this was the last thing she needed right now.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said with a sigh. “I just didn’t get the chance until late, and I didn’t want to wake you up.

Joyce sighed, moving to go into the kitchen. “One day, you’ll learn Buffy,” she told her and Buffy rolled her eyes a little.

“Can I just go up to my room?” Buffy asked quietly, not wanting to her mom to continue with the reasons as to why she was such a bad person.

“Fine.”

Without waiting for Joyce to say anything further, Buffy quickly moved up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Sitting down on her bed, she stared blankly down at the floor as she let the events of the night before and that morning catch up with her.

She’d had sex. With Spike of all people.

And she didn’t regret it.

The only thing she regretted was the fact that it had been her first time, and it hadn’t been what she’d always dreamed of.

Now, her not regretting it is not to be confused with her liking him. Even though she would have had the previous night go exactly the same, she still couldn’t stand him.

Yet she had felt the tiniest pang in her heart when they’d agreed that it had meant nothing. So tiny that she almost didn’t notice it.

But she did. And it was seriously wigging her out.

She’d realized that their long, silent battle of hate had changed. While she wasn’t going to fool herself into thinking he liked her, she knew that things wouldn’t be the same as they had always been before.

“Surely you knew. You protect all of them. Is it not your job to know things such as this?”

Buffy stared at the strange woman who was speaking to her, and even though her feet told her to run, and her brain told her to speak, she could do neither.

The creature, because she knew that even though it appeared to be a woman, it was not. And even though Buffy knew something was off about this woman, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Buffy knew that there was some type of disfigurement about this creature, something that made it immediately known that she wasn’t human. But even though it was staring her straight in the face, even though the answer was not hard to see, she couldn’t bring her mind to form why this woman was so different.

The woman, who seemed to be quite pretty, was staring at her with eyes that never once seemed to blink as she waited for an answer. And even though Buffy had no clue what this woman was speaking of, she found herself answering anyway.

“I didn’t know this was coming,” the Slayer finally answered softly. “How could I have?”

“Human,” the woman replied in disgust, as if the very word was a disease. “How could you not have? So clouded by your own repulsive, mortal emotions that you never see the answers right in front of you.” The woman, creature, began to walk around the Slayer in a slow circle, and Buffy noticed that her walk was stiff, cold, always ready for battle. “You should have been shown the way long before. You’ll know soon enough.”

“What-”

“You presume that you can simply speak when I have not willed you to do so?” The woman demanded, barely keeping her hold on calmness. “How clever they must have thought themselves to be,” she said, seeming to completely change direction from her previous speech. “Hiding what is rightfully mine, that which has been mine since before time even began.” She looked to Buffy, tilting her head. “Would you give it back? When time had done what it needed to, would you hand it over?”

“I don’t...”

“Understand,” she finished for her. “Of course you don’t. You’re nothing but a mortal, I should have remembered. Nothing but what you always were.” She turned then, walking a few feet away before suddenly turning back.

Her head tilted and her eyes moved to gaze at Buffy’s stomach. “You would be wise to not let such things happen. Otherwise I would have to take you instead.”

Buffy looked at her confused before looking down at her stomach. She let out a cry of pain at seeing a knife deeply planted into her abdomen. Pulling it out, she watched as the blood-covered metal fell to the ground with wide eyes. She clutched the wound in pain, but quickly looked up when she heard the sounds of a baby crying. However, when she looked up, she was no longer in the empty room with the woman.

She found herself in a dark alley, no baby around, but Spike standing less than ten feet away from her.

“Spike?”

“Damn it,” he said with a sigh, looking at her stomach. “I told you to be careful, Slayer.”

“How did you...” She trailed off. For some reason, she was just noticing that he was a little different. He was still Spike: platinum hair, black clothes...

But now there was a black, leather duster. Something he didn’t own, or at least had never worn before. Why was this even important?

“Buffy?” He called loudly, pulling her out of her thoughts. She looked up, and suddenly found the need to squint her eyes. She could see Spike pretty clearly, but there was a blinding light of all different colors surrounding her. It was bright and busy, but yet was calm and quiet. It was peaceful.

What the hell was going on?

“Spike-”

“There isn’t enough time,” he said, sadly shaking his head. Suddenly, he changed topics, looking at her fatal wound and looking on the verge of tears. “I did this.” Looking up, he met her eyes and the most painful sensation swept through her.

With a soft cry, Buffy sat straight up in bed, gasping for breath as she tried to bring herself back into reality. Finally, it sunk in.

Another Slayer dream. The last time she had one of those was a little under a year before. These things never led to anything good.

Not knowing when she’d see Giles, she was determined to put it out of her mind until she did.

-----

“Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Buffy stopped walking and closed her eyes, hoping to block reality out for a few more moments. Finally, she turned around to face the owner of the voice, her face blank.

Tommy Wells and his group stood less than ten feet away, surrounding one of the trees outside the school. Tommy and his friends were all people that hung out with Faith, and sometimes Spike would join them.

It was the first day back at school. She had just hoped to get there, be practically invisible, and get through the day without any remarks.

But she knew it was only wishful thinking. She had saved the man who murdered a girl. She was the enemy now. At least to them.

“Tommy-”

“Don’t,” he said suddenly, his eyes hardening as he glared at her and took a step forward. “Were you in on it? I knew you never liked Faith, but did you actually just let him kill her?”

Instead of replying, Buffy tried to keep her anger in control, and then turned around and began walking toward the building.

“Hey!” He yelled, but she didn’t stop. She could sense that he wasn’t following her though. “You’re going to pay for letting her die, bitch!”

Keeping her eyes forward, she tried her hardest to ignore the looks she was getting from all around her, but looked up when she sensed someone in particular.

She hesitated for a moment when she found herself only a few feet away from Spike. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she realized she couldn’t read his thoughts. He was usually easy to understand, but now he seemed so empty.

That’s my fault.

Keeping her eyes down, she walked past him and to her first period class.

-----

Lunch was even worse.

The second she walked into the cafeteria, the talking stopped and all eyes were on her. The occasional whisper was heard, but nothing else.

She could only stand there for a minute before finally starting to walk to her table. The glares continued and the noise didn’t get any louder.

“Bloody hell, would you all quit gapin’ and just eat?” Her eyes widened a little at the unexpected voice, and she turned to see Spike just entering the cafeteria. When no one made a noise, still, he let out a frustrated growl, picked up the nearest tray, and threw it into the wall.

Gasps could be heard, and immediately, everyone took their eyes off of the blonde girl and began to eat and talk again.

Spike briefly looked at her before turning around and walking out of the cafeteria.

She thought about going after him, but she realized that, one, that would only lead to badness. And two, she shouldn’t give a crap what he was going through anyway. She’d done her part.

------

He didn’t know where he was headed until he found himself sitting on the bleachers by the field.

As he rested his elbows on his knees, hands folded under his chin, Spike shook with anger as he tried to calm himself.

All day long he had to watch as every bloody member of Sunnydale High gaped at Buffy Summers.

At first, he didn’t want it to bother him. The chit deserved every hateful glare and word that someone could throw at her.

And then, as the day wore on, it did bother him, and he didn’t understand why.

Of course, he figured, it was because of Faith. The more the students stared at Buffy, the longer they kept Faith’s death in the air, which was painful enough. But then that would lead him to thoughts of Dru, which would make his heart ache even more.

So his outburst in the cafeteria had been nothing more than him being irritated that the other students just wouldn’t let it go.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he’d felt sorry for the blonde bitch.

Not at all, he told himself once more.

----

Of course, it’s what she should have expected. Tommy had said she would pay.

So when she was walking from the parking lot, from telling a friend goodbye, to go see Giles, she shouldn’t have been surprised when Tommy and his friends suddenly showed up.

“Look, I don’t have time f-” She didn’t have the chance to get a word out before she felt the sting of his fist connecting with her cheek. Of course, it didn’t hurt much. But it was the fact that she hadn’t quite been expecting it.

“Shut the hell up,” he told her, quickly backing her into a corner, a place she didn’t like to be as his friends surrounded her. “You should die just like she did. Unfortunately for you, I don’t have a gun.”

“Don’t you mean fortunately for me?”

“No,” he replied with a smirk. “Now I get to do it the slow way.”

She probably could have fought him off. That was, if he had been alone. She did after all, have the strength of many men. But that strength didn’t help too much when every single one of his friends found a way to hold her back, each doing all they could to make her helpless.

And the truth was, it was seriously slowing her down.

And each moment that she found herself trapped was enough time for Tommy to hurt her again. And again. His punches weren’t entirely painful, but they were enough to keep her from escaping for the time being.

And suddenly, she found herself free, and Tommy was a few feet away from her.

A few meaning he was more than ten feet back, staring with wide eyes. When Buffy turned to see who had pulled Tommy off, she raised her eyebrow in surprise upon seeing Spike.

“Shouldn’t hit a girl, mate,” he said dangerously, all the emotions of the past few days catching up with him. He went forward, intent on beating the whelp to a bloody pulp. But a small hand on his arm, firmly holding him back made him stop. He looked down at Buffy, his eyes clearly telling her to back off.

“He’s hurting, too, Spike,” she reminded him. “Just...let it go,” she said softly.

He clenched his jaw, pulling his arm away from her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. With a hard glare, he turned from her and angrily walked toward the parking lot to find his car.

Buffy looked over to Tommy, her own glare in place now. “Touch me again and I swear-”

“I get it,” he said quickly. Shaking her head, Buffy walked away.

She had a watcher to talk to.

After all, she needed to know what the riddles in her dream meant.

Her hand stilled once more as she tried to build the courage to do what she came to do.

It really shouldn’t have been this hard.

But she kept thinking that he would blame her just like everyone else would.

“Come on,” she mumbled to herself. “Just go in there, don’t be jumpy, and don’t ramble.”

Finally, she reached forward and grabbed the door handle, pulled it toward her and walked in. She let it shut softly, not wanting to disturb him if he was sleeping.

When she turned, however, she was greeted with the surprised, but welcoming eyes of Xander Harris. Buffy smiled in relief, glad he wasn’t glaring at her like everyone else. She briefly took in the sight of his hospital room, the amount of sunshine, the television that was playing.

“Well, if anyone had ever told me that Buffy Summers would not only be in the same room as me, but by my bed, I would’ve told them how crazy they were.” He smiled, and she returned it, sitting down in the chair next to the hospital bed.

“Hey, Xander,” she said softly. “How are you?”

“Surprisingly well. I always wondered what it was like to be shot. Of course in the movies, they always make it seem really sexy,” he said jokingly.

“Was it?” She asked, the light conversation being a relief to her emotions.

“Sexy? Pfft,” he mumbled and rolled his eyes with good humor. “I was more thinking painful.”

They both shared a small laugh, and Buffy was glad that they easily settled into conversation with a guy that she hadn’t ever taken the time to talk to.

After the moment sobered, she took a deep breath and released it. “I am sorry,” she said finally, and he looked confused.

“Huh? About what?”

“That guy-”

“Warren Meers?” She had never actually known the shooter’s name.

“Yeah,” Buffy said uneasily. “When...I saw him raise the gun...I had time to stop him, I-”

“Okay, Buffy,” he said, immediately cutting her off. “You can blame yourself eight ways from next Tuesday, and it still won’t be your fault. You’re not the one who brought the gun to school. You’re not the one who shot me. And, Buffy...” He hesitated for a moment. “I heard about Faith. You didn’t do that either. What you did do was save a life.”

She laughed a little bitterly, though she had nothing against Xander.

“I saved a killer,” she corrected him, and he sighed.

“Buffy, if anyone should have a grudge against him, it’s me. And I don’t. Look, the kid had issues. He hasn’t had the best life, and I’m sure he’s feeling guilty. He didn’t deserve to die.” He paused, giving her a small smile. “You did the right thing.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, smiling before looking down at the floor.

“Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t feel guilty about this,” he told her, causing her to look up. “We..I know that you’re different from other people. It’s not hard to see when someone like you steps up to save the day over and over again. What happened wasn’t your fault,” he assured her.

She nodded her head. “I know,” she admitted softly. “I just like to think that there was something I could have done.”

“The ‘what ifs’ will kill you, Buffy. Gotta let it go.”

“I know,” she repeated with a soft smile. “Thank you. If there’s anything I can do...”

“Actually, there is,” he told her, looking a little uneasy. When she stayed silent, allowing him to continue, he did so. “My best friend, Willow...”

“Willow Rosenberg? Red hair?”

“Yeah,” he said with a soft smile. “She...I know this has got to be hard on her. She came to visit me the first day. But it just about killed her, and she hasn’t been back since. She called the other day. But I just want to make sure she’s okay. Could you just talk to her? Make sure she knows that I’ll see her the second I’m out of here? Watch over her?”

Buffy smiled and nodded slightly. “Of course.”

-----

This was certainly the day for bravery.

And she didn’t know how she felt about the visit she was about to make.

Angry, sad, guilty, confused...

She didn’t think simple words like those would sum up the chaotic emotions swimming through her mind.

She told the man at the front who she was there to see, and he gave her a strange look. He had even asked her if she was sure. Of course, she wasn’t sure. But she had simply nodded her head.

Now here she was, standing in front of the cell of Warren Meers.

The man who had haunted her guilt-filled mind since the shooting.

“If you’re here to tell me what a screw-up I am, my parents have beat you to it,” he said flatly before finally looking up at her.

She kept a blank face and ever so slightly shook her head.

Suddenly, realization dawned on his features. “You,” he said, standing up. “You...”

“Stopped you from killing yourself,” she said with the slightest trace of bitter in her tone. “Unfortunately I couldn’t stop you sooner.”

He looked down, and Buffy made herself calm down some. He looked guilty.

That was a start.

“It’s not something I wanted to happen,” he said finally. Buffy thought of a thousand ways to reply to that, but kept her mouth shut. “My dad had been all over me that morning. He was usually passed out before I went to school. But he was still up and just...he just kept saying things. He has this gun at home. He uses it a lot, to scare me, you know? I don’t get scared. I know he won’t do anything. And sometimes I just never cared one way or the other.”

He stopped for a moment, and Buffy wasn’t sure if he was going to continue. “I’m listening,” she said, her voice holding as much compassion as she could muster. Though it took all she had to not just walk away.

“He got out the gun, like he always does. Started waving it around, making a big fuss. And then he started to pass out I guess. Whatever it was, he was getting tired, weak...enough for me to take the gun. Mom was actually home; she hardly every is. She’s an alcoholic, too. But she...it’s not like he is. Mom tries.”

“She tries so hard that she kept you in a house with an insane father?” Buffy asked before she could stop herself.

“Hey, she did try, alright? You’re strong, so maybe it’s hard for you to understand what it feels like to be helpless and weak. She felt that everyday.” He stopped, trying to get control of his own temper. “I took the gun with me, so he wouldn’t hurt Mom. I’d done it before. But while I was at my locker, this jackass that comes by my locker every morning came by again. I don’t...I don’t know what happened. One minute, we were just yelling, like always. The next...I had the gun out...and...”

“So why did you aim for Xander?” Her tone wasn’t cold or accusing, but she was really trying to be understanding.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I wasn’t aiming for everyone. I was just...so tired. And before I knew it, I’d shot at him. And then I panicked. And Faith was just coming toward me, and I don’t...I didn’t think...I just freaked out and pulled the trigger.”

Buffy stared at him for a long time before nodding. “You realized...you killed a girl, Warren.”

“I know,” he replied, staring hard at a spot on the floor as he leaned against the bars. “My lawyer was just here. He said I should plead innocent on grounds of temporary insanity.” He paused, watching her reaction, but she kept her face blank. “I’m pleading guilty,” he finally said. “I know what I did...I need...I want to pay for it.”

Buffy just nodded, not trusting herself to say much of anything right now. “Why did you come here today?” He asked suddenly.

She sighed, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know. I guess I just felt...it’s kind of like closure for me, I guess.”

“What exactly are you looking for closure on?”

“My guilt,” she told him. “I blamed myself for what happened. Me visiting you was a way to tell myself that I wasn’t...” She trailed off.

“That you weren’t the monster,” he finished for her, smiling sadly to let her know that he didn’t take offense to it. He knew what he’d done.

“Yeah.” She sighed once more, and then turned away, slowly walking down the row of cells.

“Buffy?” She turned around upon hearing her name, and raised her eyebrow in his direction. His brave front was down now, tears were building in his eyes, and he looked completely lost. “They want to charge me as an adult,” he told her. “If...If I don’t get the death penalty,” he faltered on the words, and she figured the chance of death was the cause for his fear. “...if I don’t...I’ll probably get life in prison...or some long term. Would you...” He trailed off for a moment. “Would you come and visit me sometimes?” He asked, and she realized how small he looked, staring at her as if his fate lay in her hands. “I know...it’s not what I deserve. And you don’t have to. But...”

She stayed silent and still for a while before finally nodding her head softly. A soft smile appeared on his face and he looked down, nodding his own head.

With a blank gaze, she turned from him and left.

-----

She was glad today was a Saturday. Because with all the visits she was making, she was going to need a long night’s sleep.

She knocked on the door, and jumped slightly in surprise when it was immediately opened and Spike’s mother, Anne, appeared in the doorway. She smiled sweetly and then looked as if she was trying to remember who the blonde was.

“Wait...Oh, Buffy Summers, right?” She smiled a kind smile which Buffy returned. “I remember you. We met a few times, school functions and whatnot. How’s your mother, Joyce?”

“She’s doing well, thank you,” Buffy replied. “And yourself?”

“Just trying to make it through the day,” she answered with a laugh. “I was just on my way out the door to the hospital,” she explained. “Will is up in his room, if you’d like to see him.”

“Thank you.”

“You know...I really should thank you,” Anne replied. “He’s taking...all of this really hard. Especially after what happened with that girl, Drusilla. I know that you and my son never really got along. But it means a lot to me that you’re here to talk to him.”

Buffy smiled a little. “He’s a good guy,” Buffy replied. “I just want to help out.”

“Well, thank you so much,” she repeated, then walked past Buffy to get to her car. “I’ve got to go before I’m late. Good-bye, Buffy!”

“Bye,” Buffy said with a smile, and then with a sigh, turned to walk inside and face her biggest enemy of the day.

-----

“Spike?” She called softly as she knocked on his door. It wasn’t completely shut, so it slowly slid open to reveal Spike sitting on his bed, headphones on. She stood there for a moment before he realized she was there and turned them off.

“Buffy?”

“Sorry, your mom said I could come up.”

He glared at her, then said flatly, “I’ll have to talk to her about that, I guess.”

“What’s your deal?”

“Wh-”

“Don’t. You know, I’m trying to be all with the helpfulness here and was seeing if there was anything I could do for you. And then you, Mr. I’m Too Good to Be Polite, you have to get grouchy the second I-”

“You let her die,” he said simply.

“Damn it, would you stop!” They both seemed a little stunned by how much force was behind her yell, making the silence seem all the more quiet. “I didn’t kill her,” she said softly. “It wasn’t my gun. It wasn’t...it’s not my responsibility to see the future and know every time some maniac brings a gun to school. So back off.”

He stared at her for a long time, his hard glare still in place. But suddenly, it melted and he let out a deep sigh. “Bloody...I know that,” he said, expelling another breath. “I don’t...it’s not your fault.”

Where was this coming from? According to him, it had always been her fault before...

“Wait...I think I just heard you say-”

“Yeah, what of it? Don’t read into it or anything. I’ve been able to do some thinking. He had a gun. Even if you had reacted right away, he would have shot you down. There’s nothing...” He trailed off, looking to the ceiling and taking a deep breath. God this was hard. He’d been blaming her for so long. “You did the right thing...saving his life and all.”

She stared at him, eyebrow raised. After a long silence, she dared to venture further. “What about Dru?”

“You did what you thought you had to,” he said with a clenched jaw. Realizing how hard this was for him, she decided to back off some.

“Is there anything you need?”

“My own bloody gun to put to my own bloody head?”

“Spike-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Kidding, Summers. But maybe you should just...leave,” he said, but without any venom in his voice this time. “This is just too strange. Things...ever since we...”

“I know,” she said softly. “I’m not trying to make this harder. I just...”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t particularly like you, but I don’t...I know it was never your fault. But just because we shagged doesn’t mean things between us are going to get all butterflies and roses. This is as far as we go. Alright?”

She nodded slightly. “Yeah. I know.” She turned to walk out the door, but looked toward him once more. “Spike...thanks. For today. In the cafeteria and with Tommy. I just...Thanks.” Nodding, she turned and walked out.

And as he wondered why there was still a storm of raging emotions inside him, he looked toward his empty doorway. “You’re welcome,” he whispered to the empty air.