Spike was laughing.

It was a rough, croaky, humourless sound, but it was clearly laughter. It echoed through the basement, cutting into the silence.

But then the laughter stopped, and turned into a choking cough that made his whole body shake. His face contorted in pain as the movement opened up the wounds on his chest and back, and blood spilled down onto the worn grey sheets.

"Huh, well that's bloody ironic innit?" Spike managed to say when he finished coughing, wincing only slightly as he pushed himself up so that he was leaning against the wall. The stone felt hard and cold against his back. He looked over at Buffy, where she stood staring at him.

"Ironic? Not really the word I would've used," Buffy replied, watching him. This hadn’t been the reaction she’d been expecting, and a glance to her friends behind her told her that they were equally as surprised.

They were all gathered around him as if he were some close family member on his deathbed, yet there were no looks of grief on their faces. Instead, they sat nervously with looks of shock, boredom and a little nostalgia.

"Poetic then," Spike murmured as a reply, running a shaky hand through his hair. It was poetic justice in it’s finest. Poetry. With that thought, Spike got the strange feeling that life had come full circle. He coughed out another half laugh, wincing once more as pain shot through him at the movement.

"You understand what I'm saying Spike?" Buffy asked him, stepping slightly closer. "This poison's going to kill you." There was no menace or anger in her voice, but no unhappiness either. She spoke purely with the intent to make him understand, because his reaction didn’t feel right to her.

Spike snapped at her, "I got it Slayer," but his expression remained neutral. He wasn’t lying; he understood. This was the end. "Poison, Killer of the dead, only one cure," he listed off, shortening what she had just told him. "So how long?" His eyes darted around the room, waiting to settle on whoever held the answer.

He’d never been afraid of death. Most vampires fool themselves into thinking they are invincible, but never him.

“If you’re looking for fun, there’s death, glory and sod all else, right?”

"A day maybe, two if you’re lucky," Giles said, unsurprisingly speaking up before Buffy could. He moved further towards Spike, where he sat on the cot in Buffy's basement, and stood next to his slayer. "According to the records, your condition will deteriorate rapidly towards the end, your temperature will rise and you may experience hallucinations." His mind flashed back to Angel. "Then, as your temperature continues to rise, you will eventually..." He trailed off but Spike finished the sentence for him.

"Burn." He hadn’t needed to be told. He could already feel the heat inside him, itching to consume him.

Giles nodded. "From the inside out." He paused. "The only cure is... to drain the blood of a Slayer." He spoke calmly, his voice lacking any feeling, but when he spoke of the cure his eyes got darker and his voice firmer, his attempt to indicate to Spike that it definitely wasn’t an option.

"Of course it is," Spike muttered, that fact being the very thing that had made him laugh earlier. The 'Slayer of Slayers' now needed slayer blood to save him. If that wasn't proof that someone higher up must be messing with him, he didn't know what was.

After another moment of tense silence, Spike nodded thoughtfully and once more surprised them all.

"Right then," he said, his voice determined. He slowly twisted his legs down and his body around so that he sat sideways on the cot. Then he began to push himself up, ignoring the sharp white-hot pain rushing through him. He fought through it.

At his movement, Willow, Tara and Xander also all stood up, unsure of what was going on. Giles took a quick step towards Buffy and ended up standing slightly in front of her, in a protective stance.

Buffy was the only one who didn’t react. She stood still, watching the vampire, frozen in place, waiting for something to indicate what was coming.

Spike looked up at them all with their slightly fearful expressions and noticed Giles' forward stance.

"Oh calm down,” he told them, inwardly rolling his eyes. “I look like I'm in any state to get in a fight with her?" he asked, eyebrow raised perfectly over a swollen eye.

At least they all had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Not like I even want to," Spike added under his breath, and then half-growled as he slipped back down to a seated position.

"So what are you doing?" Giles asked suspiciously, watching him carefully.

No one moved to help.

"Getting out of this basement.” He once more began to push himself up. “I'd rather be outside for this, and I need a fag." The statement ended in another choking cough, but Spike fought through it and managed to finally get himself to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he forced his legs to work. They protested, more pain, more heat. He ignored it.

"Outside for what?" Willow spoke up when no one else seemed like they were going to. They were all suitably confused.

Spike looked to Buffy and stared in her eyes. She met his gaze fully and something passed between them. She wasn't sure how, but she knew in that moment what he was going to ask of her. She nodded, before he even said anything.

"How far?" She asked quietly, trying to come to terms with it. She wasn't sure what she felt about this.

"Just outside'll do," Spike told her, and Buffy nodded again.

"Does anyone want to fill us in on what's going on?" Xander asked before silence threatened to settle once more. He wasn't sure why he was even there; he didn't much care. Although he could feel bad for Spike, he wouldn't shed a tear over his being gone.

Spike didn't answer. Instead, he began to make his way up the stairs, struggling with each step. He felt too hot, and he hated it. His head was thumping, and his body hurt all over, a dull ache from the poison mixed with stinging from his wounds from Glory. The heat was the worst, he decided. Pain, he could deal with. He had been in pain before. But this heat… It wasn’t a gentle heat that warmed your insides. No, this was burning, white hot flames eating away at him.

Only once Spike had made it up the stairs and the door began to swing close behind him, did Buffy answer Xander’s question.

"I'm going to stake Spike," she said finally, emotionless.

Then she turned and followed the vampire upstairs.

"What? That's it?" Dawn said, her voice getting higher and louder with each word. "You're just going to stake him?” Her eyes flew back and forth between Buffy and Spike. “You're just going to let her stake you?"

Dawn had been listening at the door to the basement, and had been ready to pounce when they came upstairs. She followed them to the kitchen, hot on their heels, voicing her protests the whole way.

"M'gonna be dust soon anyway,” Spike replied. “It’s the closest I'm gonna get to going down fighting." And if it was all going to be over, it was going to be by the hands of a Slayer, not some anonymous demon who for some reason had it in for him.

"But you're not fighting, you’re just giving up," Dawn told him, her eyes running sadly over the wounds still clear on his body.

"It's poison 'bit. The only cure isn't an option, so this is it." He leaned against the kitchen wall, putting his weight on it. The pain subsided when he stopped moving, but the heat was still there, a burning reminder in his chest.

Dawn was silent for a second, and then she spoke up again. "You can have some of my blood and some of Buffy's. Those monks said I'm made from her. If we give you enough each then you won't need to..." Her voice trailed off as her chest hitched in a sob.

To Buffy’s surprise, Spike protested to Dawn's idea before she could. "Can't do that 'bit. Aside from the fact it's too dangerous and that I'm not risking my sorry hide for yours, your blood is mystical. Who knows what you loosing that amount of blood could do. Don't want to be opening portals, not with that bint still around."

Dawn nodded, knowing there was no way she could argue. Instead, her eyes began to fill up. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Spike replied quickly, firmly, noticing the guilt that lay heavy in Dawn's eyes.

"But it is." She was trying to hold back the tears from falling freely, but it wasn’t working. Droplets trickled down her face, making her skin glisten.

"Dawnie, no, of course it isn't," Buffy said. She walked over to touch her in a reassuring gesture, but Dawn stepped back, barely looking at her sister.

"Glory wouldn't have taken you if it wasn't for me. She wouldn’t have tortured you, and you would have been strong enough to fight back when you were attacked. You were protecting me, and that's what it got you...It's all my fault." She sniffed, rubbing at her eyes and willing the tears not to fall.

Spike again jumped in before Buffy could, being the unlikely one to comfort Dawn.

He grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. "It is *not* your fault. You didn't poison me. Someone else did. Likely would've still managed it if I weren’t in bad shape. That, or someone some other time would’ve. I've pissed off a good lot of people. Sooner or later something like this was going to happen. Wasn’t you’re fault, alright?" He kept his voice low and even, almost a demand over a reassurance.

He held her gaze evenly until she nodded eventually. He nodded back, squeezed her arm in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, and then let go.

"Right then," he said as he turned his attention from Dawn to Buffy. "Grab your best stake, Slayer. Let's get this over with."

He moved to go out to the back porch, but Dawn stopped him, wrapping her arms around him gently, all too aware of his wounds. He tensed, uncomfortable, but forced himself to relax and pat her back.

"Thanks for everything, Spike. I'll miss you," she whispered to him, and he wasn't quite sure what he'd done to deserve it. He nodded though, and she let go, her eyes red and puffy from tears. Then with one last glance at him, she disappeared upstairs, not wanting to cry anymore in front of them.

He watched her go and listened to her loud footsteps on the stairs, a confused look on his face. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, he hadn’t really been expecting anyone to be upset over his dust.

Buffy’s friends had already showed they didn’t care, which was unsurprising, and he expected that Giles was secretly pleased, glad to get rid of another vampire that had showed interest in his precious Slayer. Buffy was all business on the matter, emotionless, and although he knew Drusilla and Angel would both get a pull and know he was gone, he was sure that neither of them would be that sad.

"I didn't realise how upset she'd get," Buffy murmured whilst trying to decipher the emotions on Spike's face. Her voice echoed his thoughts, stuck on the little girl who seemed to be the only one who would be affected by the end of his existence.

Years of murder and mayhem, and it would end with a teenage girl crying over his dust. It was too hard to comprehend.

"Me neither," he muttered, then shook his head, clearing the thoughts in it.

He gave her a small smile, turned and left the kitchen, limping as he did. The after-effects of Glory's torture were still evident and were worsening with the effects of the poison that had entered his system only a day later.

Buffy stood, watching the door after him. She tried to force her feet to move, but they were stuck in place.

Giles finally came up from the basement and informed her that the others had left already. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked.

Buffy shook her head slowly, eyes still on the door. "No, you can go. Thank you," she mumbled, lost in thought. She could see Spike's silhouette through the door, as he moved to the steps and sat down.

Giles laid a hand gently on her shoulder, pulling her attention away from the vampire. "Are you okay, Buffy?"

"Just thinking." She turned to look at him finally, drawing her eyes away from the door. "Spike's been trouble I haven't needed for years.” She took a deep breath. “He's annoying and a complete pain in the butt, but he... “She shook her head, knowing that going down that road wouldn't help her with what she was going to have to do.

"He has been some help recently. And with what he did for Dawn and you. It's rather surprising really. However, you are still the slayer, Buffy. And he is still just a vampire."

Buffy nodded slightly, and Giles gave her shoulder a squeeze then left. Her own voice echoed in her mind, as clear as the bruises on the vampire’s skin.

‘What you did, for me and Dawn. That was real. I won’t forget it.’

Ignoring it, Buffy muttered to herself, her voice firm. "Right.” She nodded. “Just a vampire."

She wondered if she kept saying it whether she could start to believe it.

Buffy pushed open the back door, her stake tucked safely into her pocket.

Spike sat on the porch steps, leaning against the railings. The moonlight shone down on him, and with the light from the cigarette held loosely in his hand, it lit up his face and highlighted the cuts and bruises that marred his skin. He was putting his whole weight on the railings of the steps, leaning heavily.

She had completely understood his reason for asking her to stake him, didn’t question it. She hadn’t even needed to hear the words. Buffy knew that if she were in Spike’s position she'd feel the same. She wouldn't want to die with some poison or some disease slowly taking over and stealing all her control, and neither did he. It wasn’t a fitting end for a fighter.

Buffy watched him and briefly considered killing Spike now. She knew it would be easier to catch him unawares, stake him in the back and get it over with.

She wouldn't have to look into his eyes, watching as he turned to dust beneath her, and he wouldn't have to look at her as she pulled her hand back and dug the stake into his heart.

Her hand went to her pocket. Wrapping her fingers around the wood, Buffy took a gentle step towards him, fingers twitching, ready to pull out the stake.

But she remained still. She couldn't do it. Not like that. And not yet.

With the stake still in her pocket, Buffy walked over, sitting down on the porch next to him, echoing a moment from weeks before.

Looking back now, that moment had seemed so much simpler, despite the vampire at her side. She hadn’t realised then how much worse she could feel. The worry over her mother hadn’t turned to heartache over her loss. Dawn had been nothing but an annoying brat, and she didn’t have a suffocating fear that she was going to loose her. Things with Spike were simple then, and it was easy to hate him. Things were different now.

She looked over to him, expecting him to say something. He was perfectly still and quiet, so unlike him. It surprised her that she’d never noticed how much he was constantly moving or talking until he stopped.

Spike was staring out at the sky, seemingly at nothing. The cigarette dangled from his hand, the ash gathering, threatening to fall from the end, yet he didn’t lift it.

She opened her mouth to say something, say anything to break the silence, but before she could, he finally turned to look at her. "You get the stake?" he asked, his voice void of any emotion.

Buffy nodded, her fingers once again going to her pocket. Mr. Pointy had been her weapon of choice. She never used it anymore, too worried about loosing it in a fight. It was a present from Kendra and special to her. For some reason it seemed like the right one to use.

She pulled it out and showed him, forcing a smile. "It's my best one." It was an attempt to lightening the mood, but it seemed to only make everything more real.

"Guess we better get this over with." Spike lifted the cigarette and took a final long drag, then moved to stand up.

Buffy stopped him. "No. I mean... we don't have to rush. Unless you want to. Giles said the poison is going slowly, was only a small dose. There's no hurry," she said, trying to delay the inevitable. She wasn't sure why but she wasn't ready for this yet. She put the stake back into her pocket.

He looked at her, head tilted, a question in his eyes, but he stayed sitting down. She shrugged at his look and added "And hey, my bedtime isn't for hours." It was another attempt to lighten the mood, and this time it worked.

Spike smiled. "Fair enough. Well, you just let me know when it is, and we'll make sure you’re all tucked up safe.”

Smiling briefly, Buffy stared at him, her expression turning serious.

"Why aren't you more upset about this?" She half meant to say it in her head, but it spilled out, loud and clear. His smile disappeared as quickly as hers had, but the anger she expected didn't come.

Instead, he spoke with resigned certainty. "Being upset in't going to change anything." He sighed, and his fingers twitched with the urge to light up another cigarette.

"But I could. My blood could." She knew it was stupid to put the thought in his mind, but she had to know. It made no sense that he wouldn't even suggest that he try to fight for her blood or take Dawn's offer for half of their blood each. He'd jumped in and said no straight away before she even had a chance to think about it. "Didn't it even cross your mind that you could drain me? You'd still live then."

He spoke immediately, without a hint of hesitation or doubt in what he was saying. "And you wouldn't. So what would be the point of that?"

She stared at him, eyes wide. Although the pain he took for her and Dawn was still clear in her mind, and the marks were still clear on his skin, she couldn't quite believe her once enemy was now willing to die for her. "You can't be serious? You'd rather die than see me die?"

"I love you," Spike said simply, as if it explained everything.

And maybe it did. It effectively silenced her, and Buffy got lost in thought again, trying to understand the vampire sitting next to her.

‘I couldn’t live her being in that much pain. I’d let Glory kill me first. Nearly bloody did.’

After a beat, she spoke, her voice quiet. "I gave Angel my blood when he got poisoned."

His own eyes quickly widened for a second at the unexpected statement.

He'd seen her scars, and he knew Angel had drunk from her. A vampire bite didn’t just leave a scar, it left a mark, a hint at ownership and an indication of power over the person who held it. It hummed under the skin in her neck, just like he knew the Master and Dracula had taken bites, too.

It hadn’t surprised him, not much, but he had never known the reason behind Angel’s bite.

He didn't comment, so Buffy continued, stumbling over the words. "He got poisoned too, by Faith and I tried to get her blood but I couldn't so I gave him mine. I ended up in hospital, but I survived...obviously, and so did he."

Once more Spike didn't comment, and Buffy stared at him again. She wasn't sure why she'd told him although part of her had expected him to jump in and ask her to do the same.

What worried Buffy most was that she wouldn’t know what she would do if he did.