Spike fished the cell phone from his pocket as quickly as possible, hoping that the blanket had insulated the ringing enough so that it hadn’t woken Buffy. “Give me a mo’,” Spike whispered into the gadget before extricating himself from the bed and slipping out the door. “Hello?”

“Oh my god!” Dawn’s excited squeal echoed through the phone and reverberated in his head several times.

“Christ, Bit, could you tone it down a couple dozen decibels?” Spike moaned.

“Oh my god,ohmygod,ohmygod! So who is she? What’s she look like? You better have one hell of a story Spike, or you are *such* a dead man!” Dawn eagerly rambled.

“Dawn, we are not now, nor will we *ever* have this discussion!”

“Awww, come on Spike,” Dawn pleaded. “I’m gonna learn everything anyway, so you might as well just tell me now.”

“Not as long as I’m still breathing,” Spike shuddered as he realized that very soon, either he or his father was going to have no choice but to talk to Dawn about just that subject.

“Pppfffttt, whatever. I bet I know almost as much as you do, anyway,” Dawn insisted in that haughty little tone she was getting so good at, causing yet another shudder from Spike.

“If you did, there would be a lot more missing people in Sunnydale these days. Trust me on this one, Bit… that kind of knowledge isn’t the kind you want just yet. Now, to what do I owe this displeasure?”

“Well, I was wondering if you were planning on making it home sometime today. I was supposed to go to the mall with Cindy an hour ago and your dad has a meeting in 45 minutes,” Dawn informed him.

Damn. No what was he going to do? He wasn’t comfortable leaving Buffy alone. Her emotional state was too fluctuant and fragile from everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. He would either have to take Buffy home, or bring Michael here. But, Dawn couldn’t drive, and if his father brought Michael, then he’d find out about Buffy. That only left Xander or Willow, since raising Michael thus far had put a serious dent in his friends list. But, was Buffy ready to see either of them?

“Listen Dawn, give me 5 minutes and I’ll call you right back,” Spike said, and then hung up without waiting for a response. He made a quick call to Willow, and begged her to do him a quick, no questions asked, favor and bring Michael to him. He then called Dawn and told her Willow would be there soon to pick up Michael, and to have everything ready that he would need for at least today and tomorrow. With a heavy sigh at what the next 48 hours would likely entail, Spike went back inside and tried to figure out how to warn Buffy about her impending ill-timed reunion with her son.

He was still pondering his dilemma when the knock came 10 minutes later. Spike opened the door, fully expecting to see the petite redhead with Michael in her arms. And apparently Tara hadn’t expected him to be on the other side of the door either.

“Oh god!” Tara blushed furiously. “I, I’m sorry. I had no idea! I mean, I didn’t know you’d…I mean, I didn’t know Buffy’d… Um, I’ll just come back,” She said, looking down at the pavement next to her, reminding Spike that he was still clad only in his jeans.

“No, no! No need to rush off, this isn’t what it looks like,” Spike stepped outside the room again. “Uh, Tara, right?” He asked, and was treated to a silent nod. “I’m sure Buffy will be happy to see you. Just give me a moment to wake her. She had a rough night.” With another confirmatory nod, he left the still blushing girl standing outside.

After a few moments, the door was opened and Tara stepped into Buffy’s room. She shut the door behind her as Spike sat on the bed next to a mostly dressed Buffy and asked if she wanted him to step outside for a while. Buffy appeared to waffle for a few seconds, before nodding a yes. Spike gave her a quick peck on the cheek and grabbed his cigarettes and lighter before leaving the two women alone.

Fifteen minutes and two cigarettes later, Willow pulled into the motel parking lot next to his car. He could already read the confusion and anger that was starting to spill off of her as she pulled Michael out of the car seat. She silently walked up to him, and stopped about a foot away. She put on her resolve face and quirked an eyebrow that broached no arguments, and simply waited for his explanation.

Spike smiled his most charming smile, hoping it would diffuse some of her anger. Michael seemed inclined to help as he smiled and bounced on Willow’s arm, and with a gleeful call of “Pi!”, the boy reached his arms out to Spike. Willow however, did not hand the boy over. She continued to stand firm and wait for her explanation. Damn, he probably should have at least put a shirt on before walking out of the room.

“You can quit giving me that look and hand him over. This isn’t what it looks like, Red,” Spike informed her, with as much indignation as he could muster. Unfortunately, at just that moment, Tara popped her head out of Buffy’s room.

“Spike, we’re ready for you to come back in,” Tara called out to him.

Spike groaned at Tara’s choice of wording, knowing full well how Willow would interpret the statement.

“WE?! There’s a *we* in there? And you want me to believe that this isn’t what it looks like? And you have the nerve to expect me to leave Michael here while you and your *we*, do…whatever…you’re doing in there?!?” Willow turned on her heel and began to march off. Spike tried fervently to explain, but Willow wasn’t listening to anything he was saying as she tried to buckle a now crying Michael back into his car seat. Her frustrated fumbling was halted by a calm feminine hand placed on her forearm.

Tara gave Willow a shy little smile, before quietly speaking, and Spike could only hope that Willow would at least hear her out. The girl had surprised him when she’d come strolling up and calmly took control of the situation.

“I’m Tara,” She began with due seriousness. “I was just here checking on my friend. Spike kind of rescued her from a bad situation yesterday, and I wanted to make sure she was ok.”

Spike looked on with interest as Willow’s resolve began to melt.

“Besides,” Tara said leaning in and stage whispered, “I have a feeling that I could never compete with Spike’s ego for his attention, although it looks like someone managed to do so at some point,” She smiled at Michael as she let him wrap his fingers around one of her own.

“Oi!” Spike protested, before he caught a quick wink from Tara. Sneaky little thing, she was. And it seemed to be working too, because Willow was now giggling and nodding in agreement.

“So *now* can you hand me Michael, before he busts someone’s ear drums?” Spike asked as he walked up.

“Alright, but I better get a full explanation later, buster!”

“Thanks! I promise, as soon as I can, I’ll give you the whole scoop,” Spike said, and he took Michael and the baby bag that accompanied him, and asked Willow to pop the car seat into his car.

“Spike,” Tara called to him as he neared the door to Buffy’s room. “Just tell Buffy I’ll come back tomorrow, ok?”

“BUFFY?!” Willow screeched. “Buffy’s in there?!?!” She asked as she quickly made her way toward Spike and the door he’d been head towards.

Spike moved faster, and met her half way. “Willow, she’s not ready.” His stony look told Willow that there was no arguing this point.

“But she’s ready for you and Michael?” She argued anyway.

“Willow…” Spike began, only to be greeted with the sight of his father’s car pulling up into the parking lot. “Great!” Spike said, throwing up his free hand. “Why didn’t I just send out a homing beacon? Maybe hire a skywriter. Is Xander behind you? Or maybe Hank?”

“Spike, I think you better explain yourself!” Giles exclaimed as he stepped out of his car. “It’s bad enough you failed to tell us your extended plans for the evening, but then you have Willow bring Michael to this…this…dubious establishment? Is *this* what you’ve been doing instead of looking for Buffy? Have you even been going to class?”

The situation quickly devolved as Willow apprised the elder Giles that Spike had found Buffy and failed to tell any of them. All while a very confused Tara looked on in silence. As the arguments reached the point of explosion, a very loud growling shout suddenly silenced them all.

“Both of you listen to me *very carefully*,” Spike seethed. “Yes, Buffy is here. But the last 24 hours have been packed with truly spectacular, grade A, hell. In fact, she’s already scared the hell out of me once today and I’m damn well terrified of what I’m going to find when I go in there after her hearing this mob. If you lot go storming in there right now, we’ll be damn lucky if all she does is pull another runner. She is not, I repeat, NOT ready for you. I will bring her home if, and when, I think she is ready.”

With that, Spike turned on his heel, and stormed inside the room. He slammed the door behind him and the bolt audibly clicked shut. The stunned onlookers remained stunned for only moments, before deciding to proceed as planned and headed for the door.

“No.” Tara emerged from nowhere and stood between them and the door. “Look, I don’t know who you are, and I’m sure that you have really good intentions, but Buffy really has had a rough time. A lot of things have come up that she needs to deal with. She will come around. But right now, she needs time and I think Spike really is the best one to help her right now. So, you are going to back off and accept this because you want what’s best for her, right?”

The pair looked a little saddened, but grudgingly accepted Tara’s proclamation. She stood firmly ensconced between them and the door, until finally they gave up and Tara watched them walk to their cars. She watched the older gentleman drive off, as the woman moved the baby seat from her car into Spike’s car.

“You’re Willow?” Tara asked, as the woman walked back around her car. The woman nodded. “I’m Tara, Buffy’s friend. I know you don’t know who I am, and I probably just kind of ticked you off, but I don’t suppose I could get a ride from you? The bus that goes by my dorm won’t be here for another 15 minutes.”

Willow looked hedgy for a moment, but then nodded her acceptance. Tara climbed in the little car, and gave Willow directions to the university. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Tara glimpsed back at the little hotel room and sent as much positive energy as she could muster to the three occupants currently inside. She had a feeling that they would need all that they could get.

Chapter 21

“Stupid, sodding…” Spike loosed his tongue as soon as he’d slammed the door, despite having Michael in one arm. “Just pretend you didn’t hear that, ok nip?” Michael looked at him curiously and mimicked the nodding that Spike was doing. “That’s my boy.” Spike beamed, and got a return grin. “Well, let's get you reacquainted with your mum, shall we?” Spike turned from the door, only to find the room devoid of said person.

“Buffy?” Spike called to the emptiness, and was met with only silence. There were no other windows, and he knew she hadn’t gone out the door, which only left the bathroom, and the door was closed. “Bathroom again then. Do me a favor nip and stay in here,” Spike said as he pulled the comforter off the bed, and tossed it on the floor before setting Michael down. He quickly rummaged through the baby bag and pulled out a couple of small toys for him as well. Then closed the space to the bathroom door.

It was only as shut as a door that had been previously kicked in could be. Spike pushed against it, expecting it to easily give, but there seemed to be something holding it closed. “Buffy, it’s just me. Let me in,” Spike ordered, adding a belated “please.” He was met with only silence.

“Buffy, please. Don’t think I can handle a repeat of this morning. Really need you to open the door.”

After a few more seconds and Spike debating if he should kick the door for a second time, the sound of some shuffling and the door creaking slightly open signaled her acquiescence to his request. He slowly stepped into the room, to find Buffy turned away from him, staring out the bathroom window.

“Get out,” she quietly demanded.

“Just let me see that you’re…”

“I want you gone. I trusted you. I thought…” her strained voice trailed off. “Get…out…”

“Buffy, I didn’t intend for Willow to find out it was you, and I sure didn’t plan on dad following her. And either way, it doesn’t matter. They’re gone, and I won’t let them in until you’re ready.”

Buffy lifted a hand up to the window and slid her fingers gingerly across the glass. It seemed like she was seeing something precious on the other side, if only she could just break the barrier between her and the prize on the other side.

Whoa! Break…glass… not a good thing. Spike came up behind Buffy, put his hand gently on her raised arm and slowly slid his hand up until it rested on top of her hand. With a gentle squeeze, he pulled her hand back from the glass. She offered no resistance, but suddenly she spun around and faced him and started beating earnestly on his chest.

“Stupid, useless, bleach brained, jerk,” She sobbed out, punctuating each word with a blow to his chest. “Why.. won’t.. you.. leave?” She stopped hitting, and simply dug her nails into his pectorals, as she hiccupped out, “I’ve tried and pushed and screamed…”

“Ssshhhhh…” Spike folded her into his arms. “Not going anywhere, love. Gonna see this all the way through.”

“What if I don’t want to see this through?”

“Then this’ll take a lot longer than I planned,” Spike countered, earning a small snort that he could almost take for a laugh.

“So what now?”

“Now, we go back out there and…”

“Pi! Pi! Pi!” A babbling interrupted Spike’s reply, as it’s source crawled up to the open bathroom door.

Spike heard Buffy’s sharp intake of breath and felt her body go as rigid as stone. Spike pushed Buffy back far enough to see her response. As her eyes widened, a shaky hand came up to cover her mouth. He steadied her for a moment, then turned and swept up Michael into his arms, and turned back around to face Buffy.

“Michael, do Uncle Spike a favor and say hello to your mum,” Spike glanced between the child and Buffy. Michael seemed to ignore him and banged on Spike with the toy in his hand. “Hey, now, none of that. Michael,” Spike chucked the little boy under his chin, “mum.” Spike pointed toward Buffy, who still stood stunned.

Michael looked at Buffy a few seconds, then pointed at her with his toy and proudly proclaimed, “Mum, mum!” Then he returned his attention to his toy.

Spike held his breath and waited. The next step was Buffy’s to take.

“He…he knows who…” She left the question unfinished.

“Who you are? Sure, why not? The nip here knows his mum, his dad,” Spike was interrupted with a chorus of “da,da,da,da,” from Michael. “Though he uses ‘da’ for your sis too,” He finished. “Had lots of pictures around. Knew one day you’d be back. Felt it was only right that he knew.”

“What does he call you?” Buffy softly asked.

Spike gave her a half smirk, before he turned a comically serious face to the boy. “Who’s the most handsome, smartest, coolest guy in the world?”

“Pi, pi!” Michael replied automatically.

“You brainwashed my son to call you Popeye?” Buffy asked, looking very confused.

Spike rolled his eyes. “No! It’s ‘Pi’! He just says it twice, like everything else,” Spike defended before realizing what Buffy had just done. She’d claimed Michael. It was a small step, but a step none-the-less, and it brought a smile to Spike’s face and an idea to his head.

“Did you hear that, Michael? You’re mum’s little man. What say you pop over and say hello to her?” Spike said, as he handed Michael to Buffy. She tried at first to step back from him, but Spike persisted until she had no choice but to take the hanging child. She fumbled a little at first, but then seemed to find her proverbial footing. Michael cocked his head to the side, in a move that he clearly had learned from Spike. After a second he smiled at her, then promptly hit her in the nose with his toy and started rambling off, “mum,mum,mum,mum.”

“Hey, now!” Spike intervened, and took the toy from Michael, as Buffy brought a hand up to her offended nose. “Think your mum’s had more than her share of that. How’s about giving her kisses instead? Kisses?”

At the recognized command, Michael leaned in and planted his little baby sized pucker on Buffy’s cheek, causing her eyes to once again go very wide. Her hand slowly moved from her now forgotten nose, to her freshly ‘kissed’ cheek. Spike watched as she blinked a few times at her son. He could almost see the carefully placed walls starting to crumble.

“You know, it’s usually customary to return a kiss from a handsome fellow,” Spike prodded, and hoped he was right in pushing while the opportunity presented itself.

Buffy looked a little panicked for a moment, but then looked down at Michael’s little head. Ever so slowly she leaned in, and placed a gentle kiss to his little forehead. As she did so, her eyes rolled shut. Spike watched, entranced, as Buffy took a slow, full, breath, filled with the scents of her son. She rolled her cheek to the side and pulled him into a real hug, as small tears began to leak from her eyes.

And in that moment Spike knew… his Buffy was coming back.

Tbc…

Happily 22 – The Holy Dark

**********

Spike had spent the last several days talking to Buffy and getting her reacquainted with her son. It was definitely a one step forward and two steps back, sort of process. She would start to open up, he would point it out, and she would shut down. It was maddening to try and get her to feel, when she didn’t want to. Or at least, when she didn’t think she wanted to.

More than once they had dissolved into shouting matches. He’d never had to exercise as much restraint over his tempter as he had the past couple of days. Every time he thought he had managed to breach the walls around Buffy’s heart, she would throw the crumbling pieces at him. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

And now it all appeared to be wearing on Michael. Not that he could blame the tyke. Hell, he’d pretty much been uprooted from his routine, taken away from his home, and forced to room in a seedy little hellhole with a couple of people who were alternately hugging and shouting.

“Why won’t he stop crying?” Buffy shouted in frustration, as Spike continued to bounce the very unhappy child.

Spike’s hand absently rubbed his head, as he tended to do when things were getting out of hand and he couldn’t lash out. As much as he didn’t want to rush Buffy, he really needed to get Michael back to the house.

“He needs to go home, Buffy. We all do.”

That did it. He could see her gearing up to explode.

“We talked about this! I am *not* going back to the house!”

“You can’t have it both ways, Buffy. You won’t go to the house, and Michael can’t stay here, so what the hell am I supposed to do?

“What about Giles? Or Dawn?” Buffy fished for reasons to get Spike to stay.

“What about me?” Spike argued. “Or for that matter, what about you? They aren’t his mother, you are!”

“I can’t be his mother,” Buffy whispered, looking down at the carpet.

“Oh bloody hell, we are *not* going back to this again,” Spike insisted, as he set Michael down on the blanket.

“I didn’t ask to be a mother, Spike! I didn’t ask for any of this!”

“And I did?” Spike shouted. “If memory serves, I didn’t have much choice in the matter! But I gave up most of my life to take care of the one you left behind!”

“I never had a life!” Buffy vehemently protested. “I’m eighteen, Spike, and I never had a life. Never had a childhood. All I ever wanted was to be a normal girl, in a normal family. To be the person I was before everything was ripped away from me.”

“You *can* be, Buffy. Come home…for Michael.”

“Spike, I’m…I’m not good for him.”

“Says who?” Spike demanded.

“Everything I’ve ever read,” Buffy looked up, her eyes begging him to finally see her point. “I’m too young. I’m a walking disaster. I can’t remember what it’s like to have a non-dysfunctional family. I’m a mental basket case. I’m nothing more than a broken little girl trying to push through what’s left of her life. Why can’t you see that?”

“Because that isn’t what you are,” Spike tenderly answered as he walked up to Buffy and took her face between his hands and looked into her eyes. “You are not broken. You’re just a bit lost, and I’m doing my best to help you find your way.”

Buffy’s face clearly displayed her doubt, as Spike tried to will her to clear a path through the fog she’d enshrouded herself in.

“Buffy, please come home with me?”

Buffy’s breathing sped up a little, and Spike could see her wavering.

“If I say no?” Buffy quietly asked, drawing a deep sigh from him.

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

“If I go back, everything changes. Between everyone and everything. I was just beginning to think that I like things the way they are now,” Buffy finished rather shyly.

“Buffy, we can’t stay here forever.”

“Then just stay one more night?” Buffy softly pleaded.

Spike leaned his forehead against Buffy’s, feeling his resolve fade. With a final sigh, he nodded his agreement. He would stay tonight.

He knew she would make the same request tomorrow.

After a few moments, Spike broke away and went over and picked up Michael, who had obviously cried himself to sleep during the argument. He carefully changed the tuckered tyke into a sleep shirt, and set him back on the blanket. Having finished the task, he turned back to find Buffy had also changed, and was already crawling into bed.

As he settled himself in bed next to her, Buffy quickly curled herself into his form. Molding her curves to his own, the same way she had done the last several nights. As if nothing had ever been amiss. As if the entire world consisted of nothing more than this tiny little bed.

But it did. In fact, a big part of his world now consisted of the little boy sleeping not too far away. As he watched Michael stir slightly on his makeshift bed, he felt his heart warring with his mind. He had more than just Buffy to think about. He had to do what was best for both Michael and Buffy.

He’d brought her past the immediate crisis, now it was time for her to move on. As long as he stayed here and gave in to her, Buffy would never confront the world she feared. She had to take the next step, and for her to do that… he couldn’t be here.

**********
Buffy walked into the library, dismay turning into surprise and even a little happiness, as she heard Giles talking to Angel. She hadn’t seen Angel in what seemed like forever. It faded all too soon as she caught the end of their grave discussion. She could only stand in stunned shock as she heard Giles pronounce her fate to die at the hands of The Master.

As she considered her fate, an edge of hysteria took over and she found herself unexpectedly laughing, drawing shared looks of concern from Giles and Angel as they followed her out into the main art of the library.

“So that’s it, huh? I remember the drill. One slayer dies, the next one’s called,” Her voice tinted with false cheeriness. “Wonder who she is? Will you train her?” She questioned Giles. “Or will they send someone else?”

“Buffy, I…”

“Does it say how he’s going to kill me?” She hesitantly asked. “Do you think it’ll hurt?”

Angel tried to pull her into his arms, but Buffy quickly backed away, yelling at him not to touch her.

After a moment of composure, she turned back around to face the two men, now finding Giles and Spike staring back at her as her mind continued spilling over with questions. “Were you even going to tell me?”

“I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to…that there was…some way around it,” Giles explained.

“I’ve got a way around it,” Buffy nodded. “I quit!”

“It’s not that simple,” Spike softly chided her.

“I’m making it that simple!” Buffy shouted. “I quit. I resign. I’m fired. You can find someone else to stop The Master from taking over.”

“I’m not sure that anyone else can,” Giles reposted. “All the signs indicate…”

“The signs?” Buffy repeated, incredulous. Consumed with momentary rage, she began picking up scattered books and throwing them at him as she screamed out, “Read me the signs! Tell me my fortune! You’re so useful sitting here with all of your books. You’re *really* a lot of help.”

“No, I don’t suppose I am.”

“I know this is hard…” Spike butt in.

“What do you know about this? You’re never going to die!”

“You think I want anything to happen to you?” Spike bit out his retort. “You think I could stand it? We just gotta figure out a way…”

“I already did,” Buffy insisted. “I quit, remember? Pay attention!”

“Buffy, if The Master rises…” Giles began.

“I don’t care!” Buffy cried, as she ripped over the silver cross necklace that hung around her neck. “I don’t care,” She said a little more calmly as she looked up at her watcher, trying to explain to him what she was feeling. “Giles, I’m eighteen years old. I…I don’t want to die…”

**********

As Buffy emerged from the dream, she was filled with confusion. Usually by now, Spike would have her firmly encased in his comforting arms, shushing her cries, and pushing away her fears. But not this time. She couldn’t even feel him in the bed, so she sat up and searched the room for him. She found him standing next to the small dresser.

He was packing.

“You’re really leaving?” Buffy asked, a tremor entering her voice.

“Told you, Michael needs his home,” He answered, head bowed to his task.

“But, you promised you’d stay…”

“Promised I’d see this through, and I will. I’ll always be here when you need me,” Spike answered, his determined look firmly in place.

“I need you now!” Buffy pleaded, her panic clearly showing. Her only answer was a defeated sigh from him as he continued packing.

“Why?” Buffy begged. “Why now?”

“You,” Spike answered with a sad smile, as he looked up at her. “You need to suss out for yourself what it is you really want. Need to be the one to take the next step in your own life. Me being here now isn’t helping that,” He finished as he tossed the bags over his shoulder. Buffy watched in silence, as Spike bent over the bed and gently picked up the sleeping baby and headed for the door.

“Wait…please…” Buffy desperately called out to Spike as he reached for the doorknob. But he paused for only a moment, before he opened the door. As her heart sank in her stomach, Buffy realized that he wasn’t going to stop this time. Anger and panic took hold of her, and she desperately searched her brain for something to say, something that would hurt him as much as he was hurting her.

“If I do?” Buffy asked hesitantly. “Decide that I can be the mother he deserves?” He paused in the door, and looked back at her, his face shining with hope. And there it was, the reaction she needed. He’d just given her complete control of the situation with that look, and she was going to milk it as much as she dared. “What if I want him back?” Buffy finished in a pointedly cool tone.

Spike took a long hard look at the child sleeping soundly in his arms. Buffy could almost feel the pain radiating from him at her insinuation. After several moments, he breathed out a resigned sigh, then turned and walked out the door, his final words ringing in her ears.

“He’ll be right where you left him.”

**********

She spent the day trying to erase his arguments from her mind. Trying to convince herself that the path she’d chosen was the right one. She was too young and too damaged to be the mother that Michael deserved; to be the person Spike thought she could be.

She’d considered all the things they’d talked about, and she found herself to be more confused now than before. She wanted to be the woman Spike believed she was. But she didn’t see how she could ever become that person. She wanted to start life over, forget everything that had ever happened up until today. But she still wanted to keep some of the memories and feelings with her.

They hadn’t all been bad. Painful maybe, but not really bad. Some were even good, but they had been few, and often too far between. Could she really make a life from the meager scattering of happy memories? Could she make herself the person she wanted to be? Take the love that had once been given to her and return it, without destroying everything and everyone in the process?

That troubling question was the last conscious thought running through her mind as she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

**********

“Buffy!” Joyce alarmed voice broke through the pensive cocoon that Buffy had enveloped herself in as she studied the girl in the beautiful prom dress, staring back at her from the mirror. The normal girl who had a life to look forward to.

“There’s something on the news…Willow!” Her mother urged her.

Of course she’d immediately gone to see her closest friend.

“I’ve seen so much,” Willow said. Still in obvious shock at what she’d witnessed, as she sat upright on her bed, hugging her knees to herself. “I thought I could take anything. But Buffy, this…this was different.”

“It’ll be alright,” The slayer assured Willow.

“I’m trying to think how to say it,” Willow replied, confusion coloring her words, “To explain it so you’ll understand.”

“It doesn’t matter as long as you’re ok,” Buffy insisted.

“I’m not ok,” Willow sadly shook her head. “I knew those guys. I go to that room every day. And when I walked in there…it…it wasn’t our world anymore. They made it theirs, and they had fun,” Her face scrunched in angered disgust. “What’re we gonna do?”

“What we have to,” Buffy told her, a resigned resolve sliding into place as she made her decision. “Promise me you’ll stay in tonight, ok?” It was more command than question.

“Buffy?” Willow called after her.

She turned back from the door, a little surprised as she saw a smile start across Willow’s face.

“I like your dress,” Willow finished.

Buffy had almost forgotten it. The semblance of normality she’d been relishing only a short while ago. She smiled at the complement. “Take care,” was the last thing she said before leaving her friend for the last time and headed straight for the library to weapon up. She knew what she had to do. She wasn’t a normal girl. She was here to make sure that those like Willow had their normal world. To protect them and the one’s she loved.

She was the slayer…the chosen one.

**********

“That was incredibly stupid,” Giles stated the obvious. “Now, in addition to having my anger and Buffy's threat to deal with, you have a plaster wall to repair, and quite possibly a broken hand. Honestly, I’d have thought you would have learned to deal with your frustrations in a more constructive way by now,” He said as he removed the ice pack to inspect Spike’s bruised and bloody knuckles.

“And I’d have thought you’d have learned by now that I…know……”

“Hmm? What is it that you think you know?” Giles asked, looking up at his son’s face, and then turning to see what had drawn Spikes stunned attention.

“Buffy?”

“Hi guys. I’m home.”

Chapter 23
“Buffy?” Giles immediately rushed to embrace her, but she quickly held a hand up and flinched a step back. The dramatic reaction froze him in place, but he couldn't contain his relief at finally seeing her. "Buffy?"

"Just…just give me a little bit. Please?" She asked.

"Of course, Buffy, of course. I'm just so relieved to see you," He finished with a smile. “Judging from Spike’s outburst when he returned this evening, I had feared we might never see you again!”

“Well, Spike said something that got my attention.” Buffy looked squarely into Spike’s eyes.

Spike racked his brain. Hell, he’d said a lot of things. The last of which was….

“No.” Spike’s jaw ticked as his face lit up with anger.

His simple statement was parroted by both Buffy and Giles, who were both seemingly confused by his response.

“No. You can’t have him.”

“I can’t….” Buffy fished for a moment before she appeared to realize what he meant, and her expression turned to steel. “What do you mean I can’t?”

“Know why you’re here Buffy. You think I’m going to let you tear his world apart to spite me, you've got another think coming.”

“Spike, let’s just calm…” Giles interposed.

“You can’t stop me!” Buffy asserted.

“Buffy, please, let’s all…”

“Try me.” Spike was now nose to nose with Buffy.

“If everyone will just shut up for one moment…”

“He’s my son and you can’t keep him from me!” Buffy’s voice dripped with venom as she returned Spike’s daggered stare.

“He’s my son too!”

“He’s NOT your son!”

“He IS my son!”

“HE’S ANGEL’S SON!”

“ANGEL MADE HIM MINE!”

“Oh dear…”

Buffy blinked, stumbling back a step or two. After a second, Spike’s brain finally processed the Pandora’s Box he’d unwittingly opened.

“Bloody, buggering, fuck…” Spike breathed out, his eyes opening wide in shocked realization.
For several interminable seconds, no one spoke.

“What?” Buffy’s question was followed by silence. “What do you mean, ‘Angel made him yours?”

More silence.

Spike stared at the floor, never looking up at her. No answer seemed forthcoming. Giles was staring at the ceiling, as if reading something written there.

“What…do…you…mean?” Buffy ground out each word as she menacingly imposed herself in Spike’s personal space.

“He means just what he said,” Dawn broke the silence from her position halfway up the stairs. She now had the undivided attention of all three adults in the foyer.

“Dawn, perhaps it's best if…” Giles began.

“Yeah, cause that’s working out really great.” Dawn’s eye roll punctuated the mock assertion.

“Best if what? Why won’t anyone tell me what the hell Spike is talking about?”

“Because they never planned to,” Dawn replied. At the apparent shock sent her direction from Giles and Spike, she quickly added, “Hello! Teenager. You don’t want me knowing something; don’t write it down in your diary.”

“It’s a Journal, not a diary.” Spike indignantly answered.

“Whatever.”

“What? Look, if someone doesn’t start speaking English…”

“That would be me. Because apparently I’m the only one here who can act like an adult.” Dawn asserted. “Angel gave Spike the twins. I believe the words were, ‘They’re yours now. Take care of them.’, though I’m pretty sure that included you as well.”

“I…I don’t understand. How? Angel was… was killed instantly. That’s what everyone said. He couldn’t have…he couldn’t have told Spike that.”

Buffy was obviously becoming confused and panicked. Apparently this was not quite the homecoming she’d been expecting.

“Buffy, perhaps we should all sit down a moment.” Giles suggested as she visibly wavered and began shaking. She looked to be a moment away from collapse.

“Giles, what does she mean? Angel died instantly, you said so!”

“I will tell you everything, just please, come sit down.” Giles pleaded.

“Spike?” Buffy’s eyes spoke volumes to everyone in the room. They visibly pleaded with him to confirm the story. Make everything clear. Put everything back into the perspective it had been when she first walked back in the door.

“I’m sorry,” His only urgent reply to her pleading, searching, stare. “God, what have we done?” He asked no one in particular, his hands fisting through his hair. “What have we done?”

**********

Buffy numbly made her way to the couch. It’s warm familiarity welcoming her. For a moment, she could forget the world and drown in the memories of this couch. The games played while sitting there. The arguments that took place by it. The stories shared. The kisses stolen. The hugs given. All held within its deep comforting softness.

“Buffy, what do you remember of that day?” Giles began.

“We’ve been through this before.”

“Yes, but I’m old and I forget, please tell me again.”

Buffy sighed heavily, and pulled on memories she’d tried to forget, and hold onto deeply, at the same time.

“It was foggy. Really foggy. Jenny was complaining she couldn’t see a thing. Traffic was at a standstill. We couldn’t move at all. Angel and I were in the back seat. I was so tired, and Angel suggested that I lie down and take a nap. He said he would wake me up if we started to move. I told him… I told him I was going to forgive Spike. I can’t even remember why I was mad at him, now. But I told Angel that I was going to forgive him. He said that would make him happy. And that’s the last thing I remember. I fell asleep in his lap. The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital.”

“You are certain you don’t remember anything else?” Giles prodded.

“No! I don’t remember anything else! Everyone asked me a hundred times then and I'll tell you the same thing now…I don’t remember anything else!”

Giles held his hands up in acquiescence.

“Very well, I just wanted to make sure what you remembered before I tell you the rest of what happened.”

“The rest of what happened?” Buffy echoed haltingly.

“Buffy, you should know that however misguided I might have been, I only meant to shield you from further pain. When you awoke with no memory of what happened, I alone made the decision that you would never know what I’m about to tell you now…”

Chapter 24

Curious. That was the third time his phone had registered his son calling him, however, each time he answered, he was only met with silence. Surely everything had gone well at the appointment today. Yes, Angel was likely just so caught up in the emotion of seeing his children, that he was likely rendered speechless. Then again, if anything of concern had been discovered, that would explain it as well. Perhaps he should call Jenny and check on things. Yes, that would definitely be a good idea.

“She’s not arrived yet, you say? No, no, that’s not necessary. I will try to reach her again later. Thank you.”

Curiouser and Curiouser. Jenny should have been at work by now. Perhaps they’d been delayed at the office. Yes, he’d check the physician’s office and see if they’d been delayed there.

“Never arrived? Really? Caught in traffic? But that was… What accident? No, I’ve not been listening to the news. Dear lord, do you think… Yes, I’m sure they are fine. Thank you for the information.”

Locating the small radio that sat alone and neglected in his office, he switched it on and was immediately met with a news alert.

“Again, authorities are speculating that there are numerous vehicles involved in the interstate pileup, and that they are having a lot of problems just getting to the area due to the low visibility conditions. Police are urging everyone to please remain where they are and to avoid driving at all until visibility improves. They are saying that at this time they don’t have any names or descriptions yet, so please keep the telephone lines to the police station clear, so that anyone needing police or medical assistance can get through to them. We will keep you posted as more information becomes available.”

Quick calls to the high school and the house proved equally disturbing. Buffy had not yet arrived at school and no one was answering at the house.

There it was again. Angel’s phone number. He quickly answered the phone, only to be met with silence.

“Angel? Son? Are you there? Hello? Are you injured? Is anyone hurt? Hello?”

Just as he was about to hang up, he heard it. A faint whispering, as if from a very great distance.

“Help…”

“Angel! I’m here! It’s difficult to hear you. Can you tell me where you are?”

“Highway. Pinned. Can’t….can’t see… mom… Buffy… hurt, won’t … wake up. “

“Are you alright? Can you see anything to tell us where you are?”

“Can’t….see. I’m not…help Buff…..”

“Angel?”

“Angel, are you there?!”

Blast! Now what was he to do? Ring the station and tell them his wife, son, and daughter were all injured and trapped somewhere on the highway? Well, it would at least let them know to look for them.

“Yes, that is what I said. Blue, correct. Yes, he said they were injured. Pinned. Thank you, I’ll try to do that.” Bloody pillock. He was actually supposed to sit on his arse and not worry about them? He had half a mind to try and locate his few contacts with the police, but then again, if they were already tied up trying to help, he might be interfering with someone helping his family. Blast!

He was pulled from his thoughts by his phone ringing. This time the school.

“Rupert Giles. William? Fine, Spike, what… Yes, I just recently heard about it, how did you hear…ah, of course. Well, I can’t tell you much, just… You do?”

William had a feeling. Jenny may not have been his mother, but he’d certainly acquired some of her otherworldly gifts. And when William or Jenny had a feeling…

“I’ll be there momentarily to pick you up. No, I don’t want you driving in this. I realize it is starting to lift, but I fear time and space are of the essence here.”

Not even bothering to explain to his secretary his sudden and urgent need to leave, he simply grabbed his keys and ran down the hallway and to his car.

The fog seemed to sense his urgency as well, and was rapidly clearing and thus enabling him to accelerate as fast as he felt he could prudently do so. William had a feeling. A bad feeling. Couldn’t say what. Wouldn’t say what.

As soon as he arrived at the school, William came running down the front walk. The young man silently slid into the front seat, his brow furrowed. He said only one word.

“Hurry.”

They drove in silence. The police had closed all access to the highway and were waving vehicles away. Ominous clouds of smoke guided them toward the worst areas. From nearby roads, they could see what appeared to be a solid mile of twisted and mangled vehicles. Some unidentifiable as to if they had been car or truck, or even what color they might have been. And somewhere in there, his family was waiting for help.

“We’ve got to get up there.” His son stared at the melee ahead of them. His expression one of simple, unwavering, certainty.

“I doubt they’re going to let us walk up and…”

“Too busy worryin’ about the injured to notice two newcomers,” William muttered as he stepped out of the car and walked toward the highway. He really had to give it to him, when William had a purpose, there was no stopping him.

It only took him a second to catch up to his son. “Behave as if we belong here.”

“We do.”

As predicted, police and medical personnel were all very busily trying to shuffle injured and dazed people off in one direction or another. Most of the people appeared to have only minor injuries. Many of them were sporting cuts, bruises, and bandages to their head or legs. More than one official tried to direct them to the nearest medical team to be cleared. They walked for what seemed like hours, passing a couple of horrible scenes where cars almost seemed to be fused, and medical staff were all trying their best to save a life. But still no sign of Jenny’s car.

“Maybe they were able to leave?”

“No. They’re here. I can feel it.”

“Really, William, this is no time for your bloody…” But he seemed to be entranced on one particular group of cars that was surrounded by uniformed officials. The vehicles were so enmeshed it was difficult to tell what two of them even were. And one seemed to be quite firmly contained underneath a large commercial truck.

William began walking slowly toward the twisted wreckage.

“Rupert?”

He searched for the source of his name, finally spotting Jerry, one of his contacts from the police department who had been very instrumental in helping them with both Hank and Warren Mears.

“Rupert, were you in this mess?”

“Actually, um, yes, we were following the children to an appointment when all this, um, happened.”

“Everyone ok?”

“Well, I can’t really say. I haven’t been able to locate Jenny. Angel and Buffy were with her. Have you seen them?”

“Can’t say I have. What kind of car’s she driving?”

“Oh, God!” William’s voice cut clearly through to him.

“William?”

“That’s her car.” He shouted back as he sprinted toward the twisted hulking debris.

He tried to follow, but was quickly grabbed by the shoulders by Jerry.

“Your family was in a blue sedan?”

“Yes,” he tried to step around the man.

“Rupert, you don’t want to go over there.”

“If my family is there, that is exactly where I want to be.”

“Giles! Listen to me…”

He threw the man off and half ran to stand next to his son. There were people everywhere. There were some trying to cut the vehicles apart with large machines. Others appeared to be half inside two of the vehicles, checking on people trapped in them. It was organized chaos.

“Are you sure that’s your wife’s car?” Jerry asked from behind him.

He wanted to tell him it wasn’t. That the torn and crushed blue metal was not Jenny’s car. That would mean that they were not inside that nightmarish spectacle. But he couldn’t.

“Yes.”

“Maybe you should sit down somewhere.”

“Are they alive?” He had to know. Surely they must be or they wouldn’t be working so desperately to get to them.

“Look, I can’t really tell you anything at this point.”

“ARE THEY ALIVE?” He shouted.

“Two of them, yes. For now.”

He felt his gut tighten in revolt. Two of them? One of them was dead? Who? Who was alive? Who was left? He looked in question at the man, but couldn’t form words. He couldn’t get his mouth to move over the dryness that consumed it.

“There are two people in the back seat who are still alive. But both are bad. They both have major head injuries. We can’t even get to the woman to see the complete extent of her injuries. Hell, we didn't even know she was in there until we heard her making noises. At least now we can see her head and shoulders. They’re both pinned in pretty well. Mike tells me that the guy is in and out, but they’re afraid to cut anymore.”

“What do you mean they’re afraid?”

“He’s crushed Rupert. Bleeding inside. We're trying to get a special suit here in time, but…time's running out and they’re telling me that if they cut anymore away from him, he’ll bleed out. And the way they're in there, we can't get to her until we get him out.”

He dropped to the pavement. This can’t be happening. Why was this happening? Hadn’t they endured enough? He’d lost one already, and may still lose them all. This can’t be happening.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said he’s in and out?” William spoke up.

“Yeah, he’s talking some. Keeps telling us to help 'her'. Is it Buffy that was with them?”

William nodded. “How is she?”

“Can’t say, can barely see her.”

“Can we talk to him?”

“I don’t think that would be…”

“Jerry...” He was standing again. “My son is dying.” He looked the man in the eyes. If what he was saying was true, he shouldn’t need to say anymore.

The man nodded. “Give me a second, ok?”

Jerry jogged over to the chaos of people. He could see him gesturing in their direction. And then they all turned and looked at him and William. Their faces all read of grim resolution. They seemed to confer for a moment, before nodding in agreement. Jerry jogged back over to him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

He didn’t even dignify that with a verbal response.

“Ok. But it’s…”

“I understand.”

The man nodded. Then lead them to the car.

He was utterly unprepared for what he saw. And what he couldn’t see. Everything was out of place. The car was barely recognizable. They had cut pieces away to make more room and to try and rescue everyone. And there, amongst it all, sat Angel. His head leaning against the blood covered seat. His face so badly bruised and swollen, it hardly even looked like him. The medical personnel had inserted IV’s and a young man stood next to the car, squeezing a bag of fluid into the tube.

“Angel? Son?”

His eyes opened. As much as they could. His face was so swollen. Blood seemed to be coming from everywhere.

“Buffy…”

“She’ll be fine.” He prayed.

“I won't.”

“You will. They are going to take both of you to the hospital in a moment.”

“Liar.”

“Son…”

“Heard them… talking. Know… what’s… happening.”

“Listen to me, you ponce!” William stepped up. “Don’t you fucking give up! They’ll figure a way out and you better be alive when they do!”

“Shut up… Spike.” Angel groaned.

“Make me!”

“They’re… yours, now…….Take care… of them.”

“No! Don’t you put that on me! You bloody well better live through this!"
"One… good… day…"
"Don’t do this, you bloody berk!”

“She knows… Spike... She…knows.”

“Angel, you should save your…” Giles voice shook with emotion.

“Thank you.” Angel’s look told him everything. Years of life and words passed through that wordless communication. Everything he’d ever longed to hear. Everything he didn’t want to hear until he was an old man. Then Angel broke off and looked at William again.

“Swear…”

An equally silent, yet enormous, communication went between his two sons. Until finally William nodded.
"Ang… Angel," Buffy's barely audible voice came from somewhere in the wreckage, followed by a low moan and then a slightly louder one. "Ang…"

"Yours… swear?" Angel's voice was getting weaker.

“Till the end of the world.”

Angel smiled as much as he could, and then his body relaxed and his expression faded to nothing.

His son was gone.

He was roughly grabbed and pulled back as emergency personnel crowded back in and shouted orders at each other. It felt like both seconds and hours until someone finally said to move in. The machines started back up again, and metal screamed as it was ripped apart. Finally, he watched as they carefully moved Angel out of the wreckage.

"Watch her head, looks like his legs are supporting it," One of the fireman said, as his friend Jerry returned to stand next to him.

"They'll take them both to the hospital once they get her out of there," Jerry informed him. A cry from Buffy interrupted the moment as the workers appeared to ease her head down, and it brought a critical thought to Giles' head, making him reach out in urgency as Jerry turned to walk away.

"Jerry, Angel and Buffy, they're, uh…" he trailed off. There was no Angel and Buffy anymore. "Buffy… she's carrying twins," he finished.

"She's pregnant? Jesus, man, I… This day just gets better and better. I'll tell them, Rupert, but… their focus right now is just on getting her out of there alive. How far is she?"

"Seven months," William answered, from where he was sitting on the road next to his feet.

"Christ, Rupert, she could… Fuck. I'll be right back," Jerry walked away.

Giles watched as his friend conferred with a couple of the paramedics at the car, at one point he pointed to the sheet covering his son's body, then pointed to him. One of them spared a glance at him for a moment, before nodding his head and shouting some orders he couldn't hear to another paramedic. Metal continued to scream its objections as the machines kept cutting away. It was an interminable process that kept stopping and starting, as more and more of the wreckage was pulled away.

"That's it! She's loose!" Someone finally shouted. Suddenly there was a rush of activity as a dozen people flooded in around the car. William jumped up, but Giles grabbed him tight before he could run over to the wreckage.

"Let them do their job. They can't help her if you're in the middle of it," He held fast, as William struggled to get free. After several seconds, William seemed to relax slightly, but never took his eyes off the scene. Just when Giles thought he could let go of his son, he heard a scream come from the commotion, Buffy's scream. Giles eyes closed in a silent prayer of both thanks that she was alive and a plea that she stayed that way, as William renewed his struggle to free himself of his grip and rush over to Buffy.

"Let me go!" William screamed at him. "I have to… I need to… She needs…"

"William," Giles was trying hard to hold onto his son, but William was no longer a child, and his mental and emotional states were lending him enough strength, that he wasn't sure he could hold him much longer. Thankfully, the paramedics were wasting no time in trying to load Buffy into the ambulance while they worked on her, all the while his son continued to scream and curse at him to let him go to her. "William! William!" He started shouting himself, as his son's struggles began to overpower him.

"SPIKE!" He let go of his arms, and took his son's head in his hands in his tightest grip, forcing his son to look at him. "SPIKE!" He repeated, and shook William's head, hoping to get through to him. It seemed to work, as it drew his son's gaze back to him finally. "You can't save her this time!"

He watched as William's eyes darted to the ambulance as its door slammed shut, and the siren began to sound. He shook William's head again, gentler this time. "She's alive, Spike. She's alive." He looked deeply into his son's eyes, seeing the fear and desperation shining back at him. He pulled his head into his shoulder and hugged him tight. "She's alive."

He held his son firm, as he felt the emotions wrack William's body as he allowed himself to take comfort in his arms. He would allow himself time later, but right now they needed him. He knew what his son was feeling. He had felt it before, and would feel it again, and he would very nearly give his life to have had his own father's strong arms there. He could do this for them.

Finally, after several moments, he heard someone clear their throat, and looked to see that Jerry was standing next to them. He raised a brow in unspoken question.

"Thought you'd want to know, she's alive. She's pretty critical, head trauma, looks like a few broken bones, hard to tell how much internal damage, but they think she has a chance. They're taking them to Memorial," Jerry finished.

"Thank you, Jerry. We'll leave directly."

"One more thing, they ah… they think the babies are alive. Thought you'd like to know," He clapped a hand onto Giles' shoulder. "I'll have Bob drive you to the hospital, you shouldn't be driving right now." Jerry squeezed his shoulder, then turned to walk away.

"Jerry?" Giles called.

"Yeah?"

"My…" His breath caught before he could get the word out. "My wife?" His voice broke.

"Once the crews free those who are… alive… I'll make sure we get her out of there. I'm truly sorry, Rupert."

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, as he heard his friend call to his coworker, Bob, and gave him instructions to take them to Memorial.

"You ready, sir?" Bob asked as he approached them.
He opened his eyes and took in the sight of the wreckage one last time. Noticing that William had lifted his head and was doing the same. Leaving would make it final, make it real. He wasn't ready for that yet.

"Yes, I believe we are," He lied, turning himself and his son away and pushing them forward one step at a time.

Buffy sat there stunned, letting Giles' words wash over her. As painful as it had been, everything she had known about Angel's death had been a lie. A beautiful lie Giles had designed to protect her from the truth. Had he thought her that weak? That fragile?

And Spike had never told her the truth.

"Buffy?" Giles prompted. "I know this is quite a lot to take in, but…"

"You lied," Buffy softly spoke. "You lied to me?"

"I had hoped to spare you of the pain of knowing what Angel went through."

"You think me so weak? That I couldn't handle that he wasn't instantly killed. That even though he was in agony, his only thought was for me? That the love of my life spent his dying breath giving us away?" Her face crumbled as she spoke.

"Weak?" Giles seemed aghast at the thought. "Buffy, your strength has only been remarkable. You've had so much pain in you young life, I simply sought to spare you what little I could."

"Good job, thanks for that." Buffy growled out. "God, I trusted you! All of you! And you all lied to me. You didn't trust me to deal with anything on my own!" She was not near the point of shouting.

"Yeah, cause you've done a bang up job of it, haven't you?" Spike's anger got the best of him.

"And you! Is that was these last few days have been about? The fact that you think you own me? Or was it just obligation? Is that what I am? An obligation? All that talk about promises should have clued me in, huh? Oh wait, I didn't know anything about that, did I. Because no one told me!"

"I wanted to!" He shouted back, before turning to Giles. "Told you a hundred times, it wasn’t right not telling her. She deserved to know. No, that'd be selfish you said."

"It was! You know damn well you had no altruistic motive to telling her, it was all about you, William."

"Did it ever occur to you that I needed to tell her just as much as she needed to know?"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about! It would have torn you both apart."

"Everyone, shut up!" Buffy shouted.

"Me too?" Dawn's voice cut through the sudden silence.
"Dawnie…"

"It's Dawn," she bit out. "Not that you ever saw me as anything more than a baby you had to take care of. You want to talk about obligation? At least Spike took care of his obligation. What's your excuse?"

"Dawn, I can't take care of anyone. I can't even take care of myself. But these people can. They can take care of you, and love you, and you can have everything that I will never, ever, get to have."

"And what about my sister. My real family. Do I get to have that, too?"

"Dawn, all I can do is give you pain and loss and grief. Everything I touch falls apart into spectacular hellish crap. There is nothing good I can give you. But here, you can live. Really live. For me."

"Dramatic much?" Dawn snorted.

"What?!" Buffy asked, incredulous.

"You really do think the world evolves around you…" Dawn crossed her arms and stared at Buffy.

"Revolves…" Giles corrected automatically.

"Whatever!" Dawn stomped her foot. "You think you're the only one that has lost someone? What about Giles? He lost his wife… again! And his son, and Gabriel. We all did. But the rest of us also lost a sister, a daughter, and the girl that poetry boy over there thinks is the reason for his entire existence."

"Oi!"

"Shut up, Spike," Dawn replied, eyes rolling dramatically.

"The point is, we all lost a lot of people. And then we had to deal with losing you too, while we were all trying to put our lives back together."

"It's not the same," Buffy quietly asserted.

"No, it's not. I get that. But do you think that they do? When you won't tell them any of it?"

"And what are they going to do about it Dawn? Pat me on the head? Talk about how poor little Buffy can't handle anything? Send me to therapy? So that what, they can tell me I'm insane and making it all up?"

"Break any glass lately?" Dawn smirked.

"You told her?" Buffy spun to face Spike, she couldn't keep the hurt from her voice. But Spike looked as shocked as she felt.

"Of course I didn't tell her!" He defended.

"Tell her what?" Giles asked, now also looking confused. "What's this about glass?"

"You think I didn't know?" Dawn indignantly replied. "Buffy, I was there too when we were with dad." Then she gave a stoic look of pride to each person. "None of you think I know anything, but it seems to me that I'm the only one who knows everything."

"Dawn…" Giles voice was full of caution.

"Fine, whatever. But know this. All this talking solves nothing. She doesn't understand if it doesn't involve pain. You all keep forgetting that. Even you, Buffy," she finished before she turned and stomped back up the stairs.

Silence followed Dawn's pronouncement. Buffy felt as though she'd been sucker punched.

"She's wrong, pet," Spike softly offered.

"No, she's not," Buffy met his eyes.

"She is!" He insisted. "When you were with Angel, was that pain, or did it make every moment seem like the whole world could just melt away because every single second was the best moment of your life?"

"Stop it," Buffy whispered.

"And Whitebread? Is that about the pain? Or is it about getting rid of the pain the only way you can think of, for just a little bit?"

"Spike, please," Buffy pleaded.

"What about me? Was that about pain? Or was it about feeling something, anything, other than that gaping whole inside, because the pain just makes it bigger?"

"You're right, Spike. It wasn't about pain. But whatever it was, it wasn't about love. Not for me. I told you, I can't love." Her voice held an apology, that her words didn't.

"Bloody hell," Giles breathed out. "William, how could you?"

"It's Spike, for fucks sake! And if memory serves, wasn't me that instigated it." Spike fixed her with an accusing smirk.

"William!" Giles shouted.
"I can't do this…" Buffy turned to go.

"Buffy, stop!" "No, don't!" The two voices occurred simultaneously. But she didn't hear either one. All she felt was a strong determined hand grab her arm. She reacted on instinct, one hand grabbing the wrist and applying pressure and leverage in just the right spot, as the elbow on her now free arm cracked the offender in the face, sending him crashing to the floor. She stepped back, and that was when she saw him. Giles, on the floor holding his nose, as blood seeped between his fingers. Her eyes went wide with shock and despair. This gentle soul had never hurt her. Not really. He had never given her anything but his love and caring. And now… he looked, frightened?

"Oh, god!" Buffy covered her mouth, as tears started spilling forth. What had she done? She started to back away from him.

"Buffy?" Spike was edging closer to her. Soon he would be upon her, and he'd try to tell her it wasn't her fault. But it was. "Buffy, please, god, please, don't run. Not again."

"I can't do this, Spike." It felt like she was falling apart. Torn in so many directions. To many feelings, all at once. It was too much. "It's too much."

"Please, don't leave?" God, she was going to give in if he kept up. She shook her head, because it she said anything…

"Please, Buffy, I don't think I could handle losing you. Not again." Great big tears were now trailing down his face, and it was her undoing.

"I need some time, Spike."

"Time?"

"Everything's changed. I've changed. I… I need time to think, about everything. To find out what it all means. I need time. Can you give me that?"

Spike's eyes were openly pleading, as he locked eyes with her, but he said nothing. She could see his emotions warring within him; doubt, fear, resignation. Finally, he closed his eyes and slowly nodded his head.

She turned and walked to the door. As she stepped outside and closed the door, he softly spoke one last time. He probably didn't think she would hear it, but she did.

"We'll be right here where you left us. Again."

Twenty Six – It's Not A Cry You Can Hear At Night

Chapter 26

It had been a couple of weeks since she'd walked out of the house, leaving everything behind once again. She had told Spike that she needed time to figure everything out. In truth, she just wanted time to forget. She couldn't change the past. Although, apparently the past itself could change. What she wanted was time to do what she did best, move past it all and move on. To that purpose, she had thrown herself back into her studies and was set to finish the semester with scores on her finals that were meant to impress.

And then there was him. Riley had approached her the first day she was back at class. It hurt to look at him, with the bandage on his nose and the slight limp as he walked up to her. He'd asked her if she wanted to get coffee later. She couldn't bring herself to say yes. At least not the first six times he'd asked her. But then, she'd decided that moving on meant just that, moving on. But damn if every time she smiled at Riley it didn't make her feel a little bit like she was punching Spike.

For his part, Spike seemed to be giving her time. She hadn't seen him at all since that night, but she had asked around a bit and found that he had returned to school, too. That meant he was avoiding her. Good. She'd half expected him to come pounding down her door the next day, and the next, and the next, telling her more things she didn't want to hear and begging her to come back to the house. To rejoin the life she'd left behind. But he hadn't. It hurt a little, that thought, that he hadn't come beating her door down.

So, here she was having coffee with Riley at the Espresso Pump. Making time. Moving on.

"And then I sprouted big green horns and turned into an alien space cowboy from Mars," Buffy vaguely heard Riley say. She smiled and nodded. Wait…

"What? Mars?" She asked, clearly confused.

"Look Buffy, if you have somewhere else to be that's fine…"

"No!" She cut him off. She really needed to get her head together. "I'm sorry, it's just, you know, finals week brain drain. I'm sorry. Won't happen again. You have my undivided attention."

"Really? Because, I'm thinking your attention is pretty focused on something else. Or maybe someone else?" Riley asked gently.

Buffy allowed her eyes to close for a moment, as she tried to focus and process her thoughts. She'd known he had come by the motel the day she had practically tried to kill him. She had wondered when he would get around to asking about that.

"Buffy?" Riley's warm hand covered hers, offering a sweet and gentle caress and she wanted to do nothing more than melt into his touch and let his big arms just wash everything away. "I think we need to talk."

"I thought we were?" What else could she say? He didn't think she was going to just start explaining her life story here in the café, did he? Not that she would anyway. The past was the past. She had worked really damn hard to put it there and make sure that it stayed there. Right up until she'd maimed Riley and spent the next several days with Spike dredging everything back up.

"Listen, can we go back to my place? I get the sense this isn't the best place for this discussion?" Riley squeezed her hand.

Huh, that was interesting. She need to stop thinking so loud.

"I think that would be a good idea." Ok, she really didn't. There was a good chance he really wanted to talk; which, in point of fact, she did not. But she grabbed her things and walked with him back to the dorm anyway.

"So," Riley started. And apparently finished.

"So," she replied. She wasn't really good at the whole talky thing. And again, past in the past. Not digging up ghosts today. Nope. Not going to do it.

"I'm sorry," Riley finally said. That caused her eyebrows to reach for the sky.

"You're sorry?" Buffy asked, clearly confused.

"For scaring you that day. When you, ah…" He vaguely pointed towards his nose.

"God, no, Riley. I'm the one who should be apologizing." Tears welled up in her eyes, but didn't fall. "I shouldn't have over reacted like that. I could have hurt you more than I did, without even thinking…" She trailed off.

"Buffy, can I ask you something?" Riley hesitantly asked, but his eyes were boring into her.

Panic began to grip her slightly. What was he going to ask? What did he know? Too many variables, too many risks. But, she gave a slight nod.

"What happened?"

Oh, if that question wasn't a loaded gun. A bomb. Make that a nuclear bomb. How the hell did she answer that?

"Um, I smashed your instep, crushed your testicles, and broke your nose?" Buffy asked. Evasion was always a good tactic.
"No," Riley sighed. "I mean, yes, that did happen. Incredibly effective moves, by the way…" he moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, then thought better of it and ran his hand through his hair instead. "Which brings me back to the question. What happened, Buffy?"

She stared at him for long minutes. He stared back. So many thoughts crossed her mind. Would he want to know everything? He was a Psychology TA, of course he would. Why couldn't everyone just leave the past where it was? Finally heaving a big sigh, she answered.

"Does it matter? It's in the past, where I'd like it to stay."

That apparently caught him off guard, as he visibly flinched a little at what she'd said. She wasn't sure what to make of that little tidbit of information. It took him a moment to answer her question.

"I tried to tell myself that it didn't. That one day you would let me see the real you. All of you, and that you'd stop holding back."

"And now?" Buffy asked, more tremble in her voice than she intended.

"Now?" He huffed out an uneasy breath. "I think that maybe whatever it is you think you left in your past, isn't."

"I don't understand…"

"Buffy, whatever it is, you didn't leave it in the past."

"So what, now you're going to psychoanalyze me? Whatever happened to just being my boyfriend?

"Am I?" Riley asked, a slightly jealous edge to his voice.

This! This, she could handle. This, she could work with. Because gods did she need to be out of this conversation right now. Switching gears easily, she put on her best kicked puppy dog look, and moved from her position against the dresser, to put her hands on his chest, as she cut her gaze up through her eyelashes.

"How could you ask me that? I thought that you…." She left the sentence hanging. Let him fill in the blanks. It works better that way.

"Buffy, why was Spike at the motel with you? What is he to you?" Riley gently pushed her back to look her in the eyes as he asked.

"The biggest pain in my ass," Buffy replied with an eye roll that would have impressed Dawn.

"Is that it?" He pushed.

Was that it? Yes? No? Maybe? God, why did they all have to do this? Why did everything have to be so damn hard and complicated. Why can't things ever be simple? She thought that things were starting get that way, and then she had to go and mess everything up when all Riley wanted to do was surprise her on the quad. But no, she had to break his nose, just like she'd probably broken Giles's nose. All because he'd simply grabbed her arm. She had hurt him. Hurt them. Hurt them all. Hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, God it hurt so much. Why did everyone want it to keep hurting? She couldn't stand it. Needed it to stop. Stop hurting, just for a little while.

"I'm here with you, Riley. Right now. Not Spike." She began to caress his cheek, as her other hand slid down his arm to his hand, and pulled it up around to her waist, squeezing her eyes shut as she pulled his head down for a kiss. Riley was hesitant at first, and she thought he might break the kiss and protest that she hadn't really answered his question. But then, she felt him start to give in, as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her in close, and she let herself melt into those arms. Arms that didn't know all her secrets. Arms that couldn't see through her façade. Arms that didn't try to make her face the demons that haunted her past and her dreams. Arms she could simply lose herself in and be that normal girl from class.

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

He'd almost stopped her when she pulled him in. He probably should have. She hadn't really answered the question. But then, she felt so raw and open, and it was all so familiar… letting her fall into his arms and let him take her away from it all, whatever "it all" was, for a little while. He'd known he shouldn't, but something in her seemed to need him. But need wasn't the same as love, was it?

That was another thing. He'd tried saying it, but she'd stopped him. The more he tried, the more frantic she became, until she had almost become like a wild animal trapped under him. She'd flipped them over then and taken control of the whole thing, and after that point any word was cut off with a kiss that could only be called desperate. Her pace became frenzied and feral, and conscious thought wasn't really his strong suit at just that moment. When she'd started pounding on his chest with her fists, not hurting so much as…desperately trying to dig a hole in his chest? That got his attention. When he noticed she was crying, well, that really got his attention.

At first, he didn't know what to think. He'd called her name a couple times, but it was like she wasn't even there. When he finally managed to catch her hands and stop everything, he shook her and said her name a little louder than he probably should have, but shed looked so…lost. When she finally looked at him, actually at him, she'd just collapsed on his chest in a sobbing heap, saying, "sorry" over and over, until she fell asleep.

So he ended up spending the night with his arms full of a sleeping girl. He'd had no idea what to do for her, but he thought he might know someone who did. The problem was, every time he thought about that, he'd wanted to hold her just a little tighter. Spike knew whatever it was that she was holding back. He knew whatever was responsible for whatever it was that happened tonight. It also didn't help that the guy was in love with her. So why the heck was he trying to find the guy? As he spotted said guy in the library, he really wondered if he should have asked himself that question earlier.

He walked up to stand in front of Spike, who was sitting at a desk next to a window in what appeared to be a last minute cram session. However, despite staring at the guy for quite some time, he hadn't even acknowledged him. But, he had time.

"Enjoying the view?" Spike finally said, without even looking up at him.

"Do you always open with a line about homosexuality, or are you trying to tell me something?"

"Don't flatter yourself, cardboard; tall, dark, and boring 's not my type." Spike still hadn't looked up at him.

"I'm guessing more like, small, blond, and enigmatic?" That got a reaction. Spike very carefully put down his pencil and leaned back in his chair, and gave him a carefully guarded look.

"Enigma, eh?" Spike laced his fingers behind his head, and get him a smug look. "Domestic bliss, not so bliss?

He sank down in a chair as he wondered exactly what the heck he should tell this guy. Everything? Nothing?

"She won't let me in," He finally settled on, figuring Spike would know what he meant.

"Did you try dinner and a movie? Little candle light? Maybe some effective foreplay?" Spike smirked.

He gave the guy a withering stare. Spike knew what he meant, and that answer didn't even dignify a response.

"Look, what do you want me to say, here? Already told you it's not my story to tell."

He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. What had he expected him to tell him? Maybe if he knew… Yeah, and what the hell was he going to say? That she'd broken down in the middle of some really hot sex and started half-heartedly hitting him while she was crying her eyes out? Yeah, that would be really tactful.

"Something's wrong." He'd leave it at that and see where it went. It didn't take long for Spike to take the bait, as he sat upright and gave him a hard look.

"Something happen?" Spike asked.

He figured he give him a dose of his own medicine and ignore him a while. Apparently that cool façade didn't last long when it came to Buffy. But it didn't slip for long, either.

"Kicked your arse again, did she?" Spike leaned back in the chair again.

"No, that I could deal with," he sighed out. "What happened last night, that was…I don't even know what that was."

He noticed Spike's face twitch, and he obviously clenched his teeth, as the muscles of his jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes. After a moment of what appeared to be the guy getting control of himself, his eye's opened again and focused intently on his own.

"I am not your bleedin' Dr. Laura, you bloody berk," Spike slowly spoke every word, and then started to gather the books scattered around on the desk. Definitely a sore spot. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"You not feeling it in the sack, mate; I suggest you try asking her next time," Spike said, as he roughly shoved his things into a bag.

"Kind of hard to when she turns into a weeping mess before crying herself to sleep and then takes off in the middle of the night, and then avoids me all day." Ok, that was a much as he was giving him.

Apparently, it was enough. Spike froze mid shove for a moment, and then shoved the whole thing away from him, as he roughly sat back in the chair and put his head in his hands. A few moments later, Spike was producing what could best be described as a hysterical giggle. Now, Riley was debating if perhaps this guy was just as traumatized as Buffy. Whatever the hell was going on, it was way bigger than either one let on. And now that weird giggle was sounding suspiciously like a weird sob. Then it abruptly stopped, as the guy leaned back and sucked in a deep breath before blowing it out slowly.

"Tell me how to help her?" Riley asked.

"Can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

"Are you always this fatalistic?" He couldn't help asking.

Spike laughed. "Wasn't bein' fatalistic, mate."

"Sure sounded like it."

"More like stupid, blind, idiotic, no-chance-in-hell, perpetual hope." Another sigh. "But, I meant what I said. She doesn't want to be saved. Not now, anyway."

"I don't believe that. But, it would explain why she wouldn't let me say it," He trailed off. "Doesn't explain the whole trying to beat a hole in my chest while she was apologizing the whole time." And now he had Spikes undivided attention again, judging by the curious look he was giving him.

"Bloody hell." It almost sounded like a prayer, and there was that look of hope Spike mentioned. He watched the guy as he seemed to be reliving something in his mind. He silently wondered if he knew he'd let a tear slip. Probably not, or he guessed he'd be furiously making excuses about having something in his eye. Yeah, this guy was just as wounded as Buffy. He just wished he knew what the hell it was so he could help her get around it.

"You know, most people would be, I don't know, shocked or perplexed if I told them that. Kind of like I was when it happened. So, you want to tell me why you look like I just answered a prayer?"

Spike barked out a short harsh laugh. "Everything's like a bloody dance with Buffy. One step forward and twelve steps back. 'Cept I think it's getting closer to one step forward and five steps back if what you said is true."

"So that was a good thing?!" How the hell was that a good thing? "Look, I don't know what this big secret is, but it's pretty obvious that whatever it is damaged the hell out of both of you. Whatever this thing is… Jesus, if I have to say or think that phrase one more time, I'm going to rip my own tongue out. She can't go on like this. No one can. It has to be fixed."

There was that creepy hysterical sort of giggle, sort of sob, again. "Fixed? How do you fix twelve years of living through the nine kinds of hell most people can't even bring themselves to read about? How do you save someone who doesn't think they need, want, or deserve to be saved? How do you move on, when your past is bloody well drowning you?" Spike softly finished.

The Spike got an odd look on his face. To Riley, it looked like Spike suddenly had a very confusing thought. Spike's little rant made way more sense to him than it probably should have, and apparently some part of it hadn't ever occurred to Spike. Sadly, it also told him that no matter how much he was in love with Buffy, he wasn't going to be the one that ended up with her. These two people's worlds were so wrapped up in each other, they practically had their own gravitational field. And just what the hell was he supposed to do now? Help this guy? This guy who somehow held the key to Buffy? To the door he would never be able to open? Maybe he could help him. Some day. But not today.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," Riley said, as he got up and walked away.

Maybe, he could help Buffy; but he wasn't helping Spike.

Twenty Seven - It's Not A Cry You Can Hear At Night

He walked in and demanded that they talk. She'd told him she wasn't ready to talk, but he'd simply said, "Too bad," and then tried to pick a fight with her, right then and there. She'd been goaded into asking what the heck he expected her to say to him, and that nothing he could say would make this whole thing any better, and then she'd tried to walk away. He'd grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving, confessed that he knew all that, but that he just wanted her to hear him out. It had taken almost everything she had not to flatten him right then, but she hadn't; instead, she'd simply told him to take his hand off of her, and stood there waiting for him to explain. Not that it really mattered.

"Buffy, I think, when this thing started, it was just some stupid, immature game. I wanted to even the score after you let Dracula bite you," he started.

"I did not *let* Dracula…" She seethed, only for him to interrupt her.

"I know," He paused a moment. "On some level I know that. But I was still spun! I don't know, I … I wanted to know what you felt. I wanted to know why Dracula and Angel have so much power over you," His face, pleaded with her to understand."

"You so don't get it." She was only getting more exasperated with him.

"I wanted to get it, Buffy. I wanted to get you." He was getting more earnest. She was getting more incredulous.

"So this is my fault? Hey, gee, Buffy's so mysterious, I think I'll go out and almost die. I think I'll go and let some other w..." She couldn't finish that thought.

"This isn't your fault. It's mine. I feel like hell for what I've put you through. It's just... these girls…"

"Vampires. Killers." She corrected him.

"They made me feel something, Buffy. Something I didn't even know I was missing until…"

"I can't. I can't hear this," She said, turning away from him again.

"You *need* to hear this," He grabbed her arm yet again, forcing her to face him.

"Fine. Fine! Tell me about your whores! Tell me what on earth they were giving you that I can't." Incredulous couldn't even cover what she was feeling right then. After a moment he answered.

"They needed me." Boy, that was not what she'd been expecting to hear.

"They needed your money. It wasn't about you." The retort was somewhat satisfying, but not much.

"No. On some basic level it *was* about me. My blood, my body," he sighed. "When they bit me ... it was beyond passion. They wanted to devour me, all of me."

"Why are you telling me this?" It was really more a plea for him to stop, than a request for an explanation.

"It wasn't real. I know, it was just physical. But the fact that I craved it ... that, that I kept going back ... even if it was fleeting, they made me feel like they had such... hunger for me." Now he was pleading.

"And I don't ... make you feel that way?" Realization was beginning to dawn on her. His silence answered the question for him.

"How on earth can you compare me to that?" Now she was getting angry. Very angry. "How can you tell me you understand what those vampires are feeling? You aren't a passion to them, you are a snack! A willing, idiotic snack!"

"No, I know exactly what they feel when they bite me, because I feel it every time we're together. It's like the whole world falls away. And all there is, is you."

"And you think that I don't feel the same way about you? How dare you tell me what I feel?" She turned to walk away again, but he apparently had a big problem with taking hints. Even obvious ones.

"You keep me at a distance, Buffy." His voice seemed urgent then. "You didn't even call me when your mom went into the hospital." What the heck had he expected from her?

"Oh, I'm sorry. You know, um, I'm sorry that I couldn't take care of you when I thought that my mother was dying." God, he had some nerve!

"It's about me taking care of *you*!" That pleading was back. "It's about letting me in. So you don't have to be on top of everything all the time."

"But I do. That's part of what being a slayer is." He so didn't get it. She couldn't *not* be on top of everything all the time. "And that's what this is really about, isn't it? You can't handle the fact that I'm stronger than you."

"It's hard sometimes, yeah." Now *he* was looking at her like she was the one who didn't understand. "But that's not it."

"Then what? What else do you want from me, Riley? I've given you everything that I have, I've given you my heart, my body, and soul!" She gathered her anger around her like a shield. What more did he want from her?

"You say that, but I don't feel it. I just don't feel it." His flat, abrupt tone told her he was serious. And that really kind of pissed her off. She was trying. She was giving him everything she had. But apparently it wasn't enough for him.

"Well, whose fault is that?" She bit out, then decided to lay it all out for him. "Because I'm telling you, this is it, this is me. This is the package. And if it's so deficient that you need to get your kicks elsewhere ... then we really have a problem," she finished, quiet and calmly. She'd made sure to look him in the eyes as she'd said it, ensuring he understood just how serious she was, and then looked away, giving him a moment to process that.

"They want me back, Buffy ... the military," He paused. "It's deep undercover, no contact with civilians. Transport's leaving tonight."

"Tonight?" Talk about being spun! "When were you gonna tell me about this?"

"I'm telling you now." His calmness was unnerving her.

"Are you going?"

"I don't know. If we can't work this out..."

"Then what? This is goodbye?" Was he really leaving her? Tonight? All he did was shrug in reply. And damn if that didn't piss her off even more! After everything that had happened, he was going to pull this kind of crap on her!

"You are unbelievable. You're giving me an ultimatum?"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes you are! You expect me to get over it now or you're gone!" How the hell could he do this to her?

"I don't, Buffy! That's not what I meant."

"Well, I have heard enough. I will not take the blame for this." She needed to get away from here. She couldn't listen to anymore.

"I'm not asking you to!" He grabbed her arm again, and she almost swung her free hand around to punch him in the nose. But she didn't.

"Let go of me!" She sent him a clear look of warning and jerked her arm free.

"Or what? You'll hit me?" Was that sarcasm?

"Go ahead." He held his arms out in clear invitation. "Come on, do it!" He wanted her to hit him. Practically begged her to beat on him. Did she want her to punish him? Is that what he wanted?

"Get out of my way." She wasn't going to hit him. Not that she didn't feel like it, because she definitely did.

"I'm serious, Buffy, hit me. Hit… me..." He got right up in her face, practically daring her to do it.

She wasn't going to take the bait. Wasn't going to give him whatever it was he felt he needed. In fact, what she was going to do was walk away before she really did beat him into the ground. She slowly stepped around him, keeping eye contact before she turned and grabbed her jacket.

"I'm leaving, Buffy." He paused. She froze. "Unless you give me a reason to stay ... I'm leaving tonight."

This wasn't the way this was supposed to go. But if he wanted to leave so bad, then she sure as hell wasn't going to stop him. He'd already made his choice. Now she was making hers.

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

A knock at the door abruptly ended the dream, giving her little precious time to process it. Then again there wasn't a whole lot to process, was there? Riley didn't feel like what she could give him, was enough; and it was tearing him apart. She glanced at the clock, noting it was already late into the morning. She quickly slid on a her plain cotton robe and headed for the door. There weren't a lot of people who knew where she was living, and with the exception of maybe Tara, she wasn't sure she wanted to see any of them right now. She peeked through the peep hole in the door and sighed. Between the dream and what had happened the other night, Riley was probably the last person she wanted to see right now. She sighed again, leaning her forehead against the door.

"Buffy, please let me in. We need to talk."

"I'm not ready to talk to you." The words were just as true now as they were in the dream.

"Please, just hear me out." A tear slid down her face. Sometimes she really hated the slayer dreams. Deciding that she couldn't escape fate, lord knows she'd tried, she opened the door and stood back in silent invitation. He took the invite and walked in, stopped next to the small desk in that occupied one corner of the room. She shut the door and turned to face him, half expecting him to start talking about Dracula.

"Buffy…" He started.

"I'm sorry." She interrupted him quietly. Which served the purpose of shutting him up before he could start telling her what she already knew was coming. Maybe she could speed this along? Skip the whole grabbing and wanting to hit him part?

"I'm sorry that I can't give you what you need from me, Riley." Gob-smacked was a good description of his current look, which made it easy to keep going. "I know you feel that I don't let you in. That you don't feel like I'm giving you everything."

She wasn't going to cry. She knew how this ended, but she was the one who was going to control when and how. "But this is it, Riley. I have nothing else to give. I can give you what I have, but I don't have in me what you want." She paused a moment, time to close the deal. "I think it would be best if you let me go. You deserve more, and…" She offered him a smile filled with sadness and regret that she'd dragged him into her world. "What I can give you isn't going to be enough for you."

Shocked wasn't too strong a word to describe the look on his face. But then, he did something really weird. The shock turned to what looked like acceptance. And then he had his own sad little smile.

"No, Buffy, it isn't enough for *you*."

And now it was her turn to look shocked. Somewhere in this little prerecorded Technicolor session, the needle had scratched across the record and everything was going all wonky.

"What?" Was all she could manage in her temporarily confused stupor. A state that made it handy when he gently approached her and suggested she might want to sit down.

"Look, there's a lot I don't know about you Buffy; but, there is one thing I do know. You deserve more than this, and you definitely need more than this. Pretty sure you want it, too."

He'd paused. She guessed he was waiting for her to object. She could oblige him.

"What I want doesn't change what is," she offered. Which garnered her a small but exasperated sigh as he ducked his head down and look at the floor.

"Spike wasn't lying," he sighed out.

"You've been talking to Spike?" She couldn't keep the tremor from her voice. Oh god, how much had he told him? Why had he told him anything? She looked up to see Riley looking at her with a very pained expression. Oh god, he knew. He knew everything! Suddenly she needed to be anywhere but here.

She tried to scramble up and looked around wildly for her purse. She needed out of here now. But before she could spot the bag, Riley was suddenly there and had ahold of her shoulders trying to stop her from leaving. She violently jerked back automatically, trying to get away, but he held her firmly. Her training kicked in swift and violent, throwing her arms up inside his, loosening the hold enough that she could swing them out and slam her cupped palms over both of his ears as hard as she could, temporarily stunning him, and giving her enough time to make a break for the door. Just as she was yanking the door open, a dead weight hit her and it, slamming it shut again and pinning her to the door. Instinct took over and she began clawing and kicking at anything she could, screaming senseless words and pleas like a wild animal caught in a trap. And then just as quickly as it had hit her, the weight was gone; allowing her to wildly scramble away.

"Oh my god," she vaguely heard a faint voice say from behind her. But she kept scrambling. There, a door. If she could get to it. Her brain barely processed her name being called over and over, a little more urgently each time. And then he was there in front of her, on the floor between her and the door she'd been heading for, her name still rolling out of him over and over. Her brain desperately searched for an escape. She looked for anything she could use as a weapon. Seeing nothing, she scrambled backwards toward the corner, not knowing anywhere else to go, she just needed to get away. For whatever reason, he didn't follow her. He was sitting on his haunches a few feet away from her. He was blocking any escape, but at least not moving towards her. All she could do was sit there, trying to practically climb inside the wall, while he sat there staring at her, still calling her name.

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

"Oh my god." A dark realization came over him as he watched her devolve into a wild and feral state. She'd stunned the hell out of him with the smack down, but he'd recovered just enough to know that the wild state she was in could get her hurt if she ran out the door, so he'd stopped her. He hadn't expected this…this wounded wild animal that was clawing towards the bathroom. He tried calling her name, hoping that would break through whatever fog her consciousness was currently in, and pull her back to reality and him, but it didn't seem to be working. All he could think of was to put himself between her and that bathroom door. Dropping himself to her level, he did just that, still trying to pull her back from wherever she was. She'd looked around wildly, still scrambling and had ended up backed into the corner, clawing at the wall while keeping him in her sight. He backed off and sat on his heels, hoping it would calm her down a little.

It worked to some extent. After a couple of minutes, she quit trying to claw into the wood paneling and settled for watching him from the corner of her eyes as her body shook with violent tremors. He sat on the floor, crossing his legs in front of him and contemplated what to do now. Some part of him had thought Spike had been exaggerating when he'd said Buffy had been through nine kinds of hell. Sure she'd had some sort of breakdown the other night, but before that she'd been so strong and independent. She'd seemed so self-reliant and self-aware, so… hungry for life. That just didn't fit with what Spike had said.

Yeah, she'd been distant and then there was the whole breakdown the other night, but that didn't fit with what he was seeing now either. Something told him that was related to some whole other issue. There weren't a lot of things that could turn a human being into something this wild and wounded. And this level of reaction usually meant recent, like days or weeks; but she'd been here and in his bed for a couple of months, practically drowning him in her need.

Spike hadn't been lying; she was drowning. But how deep was the water she was drowning in? This kind of trauma was deep and dark, and at least a little old. She'd had enough time to do some serious self-defense training, the kind that took time to get this good at. He was sure it would be days or maybe weeks before his hearing would return to normal, much less his broken nose.
It was old enough that she'd reclaimed her sexuality; hell, developed a serious hunger for it. Not one for a lot of words, she practically screamed a need to be touched and to be physical, like it was the only way she had to communicate, her only way to…

And suddenly something else clicked into place, and he groaned. Jesus, how much *had* this girl gone through? Was it all the same person? Spike said it had gone on for twelve years. A relative? Parent? With that kind of time frame, at least some of it certainly was. She'd been raised in a violent physical world. One that she still lived in whether she knew it or not. She'd never developed any other way to interact or understand her world. And now what Spike said about her breakdown being a good thing was making a little more sense. No wonder she was one step forward and two steps back.

So what all was he looking at? Years of physical abuse, which never came without mental abuse; rape, pretty violent if her current state was any indication; death, Spike had mentioned that the guy she was in love with had died about a year ago. If he was Spikes brother, he was probably somewhere close in age. Dying young usually meant either very violent or very sick, always tragic. Parental violence usually meant single parent, either death or divorce, which meant more loss. That would explain the closing off. Was there more? Wasn't that enough? Hell, one of them would be enough to keep a person in therapy for ages.

But until today, he'd had no clue that "whatever this was" involved this level of hell. She's seemed as normal as anyone else. So, how did she get to this level of ok, and still have not learned to cope with all of these things? Because the woman in front of him was absolutely not coping. Had no one gotten her any help? As intent as Spike was on "saving" her, he couldn't imagine he'd never tried to get her help. But then, hadn't he said she didn't want any? That she didn't think she needed or deserved any?

And that was when the epiphany hit him, as everything snapped into place. It suddenly all made a lot of very scary sense. This creature in front of him was the real Buffy. This was what she'd been hiding from him, from everyone probably. This is what's left when the mask falls away. She'd never faced what had happened to her. As more trauma occurred, she'd just added it to the pile. Instead of learning to cope with everything, she'd simply pushed it to the side and kept going, dragging it all along with her without even realizing it.

The problem with the monsters in the closet is that if you don't slay them, they keep coming back. And the kind of monsters she was fighting? If she didn't kill them, then they were going to kill her.

So now what? He looked back over at her. She was still hugged up against the wall, but her posture was a little more relaxed. Had she fallen asleep? He hoped so. If what he suspected was true, she probably hadn't slept well in years. Should he move her? If he woke her, she might or might not be lucid. If she woke up in the corner, the confusion might send her right back into her feral state. He approached her slowly, making his body ache with the coiled tension with which he was holding his muscles. The closer he got, the more certain he was she'd fallen asleep. More gently than he thought himself capable, he picked her up and moved her to the bed. He pulled a blanket up over her, and then grabbed a chair and started his vigil.
How she was in the morning would determine what happened next. If he couldn't get her to willingly face her demons, then he was going to have to take her somewhere that could. She'd probably hate him forever if he did; but, she couldn't go on like this. It was killing her.

And he had a sneaking suspicion that it was killing Spike, too. That gravitational field was looking more like a massive black hole. Could they escape it, or had their failure to face everything sealed their fate? Now who was being fatalistic? He was beginning to understand Spike, now. He'd jumped into the event horizon willingly, knowing that neither of them might every make it out alive, but hoping that against all odds he could pull them both out.

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

She awoke slowly, coming to consciousness with her head feeling a bit like it was full of cotton. A little too much pressure, and not exactly certain what had happened. She was in her bed, that much was clear. What she didn't remember, was going to bed. She started probing her memory to see what she did remember. That was when flashes of images and feelings came flying back at her, and she started to scramble back. She would have fallen flat in the floor if someone hadn't caught her. She froze. They'd caught her again.

"Buffy?" His voice cut through the fog.

"Riley?" She looked up at him, unsure if she was hearing things. Please let it be him.

"It's me. I've got you. You know where you are, Buffy?" He asked.

She looked around and sent up a prayer of thanks that she was in her dumpy little rat hole room, and it was Riley holding her, and not… She closed her eyes and banished that thought.

"Must have been some dream." She gave him a watery smile.

He lifted her back onto the bed, and then handed her a glass of water.

"How long have you been here?" She asked, after drinking most of the water.

"What?" He leaned in a little closer and turned one side of his head slightly towards her, like he was having trouble hearing her. The implication of that slammed into her full force and she started to panic. What had happened here?

"Buffy, breathe!" He held his hands up in clear surrender. The action drew her attention to him, and helped to focus her just a little.

"Come on, just breathe in and out, Buffy. You're safe, no one is going to hurt you."

She followed his lead as he slowly breathed in his nose and blew out of his mouth. Bringing her heart rate and panic level down about six levels. Once she'd finally calmed enough to settle back on the bed, he sat back in his chair and let her finish calming herself down. Which unfortunately gave her lots of time to think while he stared at her. She was still having a hard time sorting out exactly what had happened. As she continued to breathe and definitely not focus on how intently he was staring at her, she tried to piece out the events. Dream. Talk. Talk about… her breath caught… he knew. And she'd tried to get away, but he'd grabbed her and she'd… her breathing was ratcheting back up again…

"Buffy, slow your breathing down." He was breathing with her again.

Refocusing. Ok. Ears. Escape. Door. He'd slammed the door shut and then it all got fuzzy after that, because suddenly she was right back….

"NO!" She screamed out angrily, balling the blanket under her into her tight fists. Not going back there. Not reliving any of that again. At least she wasn't in panic mode anymore. The anger made it better. Helped her focus. She deliberately focused her breathing and senses and told herself to calm the heck down.

"Buffy?" His soft voice broke through the silence of the room.

She opened her eyes to look at him. He knew. She looked up at the ceiling, cursing the cosmic fates that had so cursed her life. She sank back into the bed, and for several seconds tried to figure out how to proceed.

"How much did he tell you?" She asked, unable to keep the anger and hurt out of her voice.

"He didn't," came the simple reply, causing her to snap her attention to him. "Only thing he ever said was that your boyfriend died about a year ago."

She drew in a deep breath. That was all he knew? No, the look on his face earlier clearly indicated her knew way more than that.

"Please don't lie. I can tell that you know…" he breath hitched again. "He obviously told you more."

"No, he didn't." He assured her. "Kept saying it wasn't his story to tell."

That gave her pause. If Spike hadn't told him, then how did he know? She groaned as she internally smacked herself upside the head. She'd practically told him herself. If her addled brain was any indicator, she must have given him one heck of a show.

"Will you tell me what happened?"

He might as well have asked for the moon and stars. She shook her head.

"Have you told anyone what happened?" She nodded. "Did you tell the police?" Another nod. "Anyone else?" She thought about it. Had she told anyone else? "No."

"What about the rest?" She gave him a sideways look. He'd guessed about the attack because she'd gone mental on him. But if Spike didn't tell him anything, then what did he mean by 'the rest'?

"Was it your mother or father?" He asked. His resolute expression clearly communicating he wasn't budging until she answered. What she couldn't figure out, was why she was answering him.

"It was my dad."

"All of it?" Again, with the resolve face. She just shook her head in response.

"Buffy, I can go on playing twenty questions, and something tells me it's the only way I'll get any answers, but this would go a lot quicker if you would just tell me."

She shook her head again. He sighed.

"Right. Father, but not all. Is he the one who…?" He left the question hanging, but she couldn't help flinch at the word he didn't even say. She shook her head.

"Then I'm guessing you had lots of 'accidents' as a kid. The kind that ended up with lots of visits to the hospital?" She nodded.

"But he never…?" She shook her head vehemently.

"Did he let someone else? Without your permission?"

How did she answer that one? Images and feelings of old Mr. Buchannan flashed back though her mind before she quickly shut them down. She nodded.

"More than one?" She shook her head. "More than once?" She shook her head again. "Did he help?" She shook her head vehemently again.

"Buffy, God, how do I say this? What I saw here, was this something separate from that?" She nodded.

"Jesus, Buffy," He whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling.

"What I saw, this was violent. Caged animal, scared for your life, kind of violence. Did they try to kill you?"

Again, how did she answer that. They had beat her and pounded her head into floor until she'd blacked out, twice, and then left her to die in a pile of trash in an alley. She nodded.

"Before your boyfriend died?" She shook her head. Then decided to correct him.

"Fiance. We were engaged." Another sigh.

"Was he sick?" She shook her head. "Accident?" She nodded, and then just kept nodding. Finally she fell over on the bed as she couldn't hold back the tears any more.

"Is there more?" He still pressed.

She shook her head. She couldn't go any further. No more. He'd already guessed enough. The rest didn't matter.

"Buffy, you said you haven't told anyone else about what I saw here. Does that include Spike?"

She froze for a moment, going slightly stiff. And apparently Riley saw that and didn't like it.

"Did he do this to you?" His voice practically dripped with venom. She remained frozen. She hadn't told Spike. He'd seen. "I'll kill him!" Riley shouted.

"NO!" Buffy bolted upright. "He didn't do it, Riley! He didn't…. he didn't have anything to do with what happened."

Riley visibly took a moment to calm down as he sank back down in the chair.

"Have you told him what happened?" She shook her head again.

"He's the one who found me. After. He got me to the hospital."

"How did he know where you were?" Riley asked with confusion.

"Didn't. He was buying cigarettes. As he was leaving, he happened to see them when they were dumping me in the alley." She wrapped her arms around herself.

Riley looked up at the ceiling as he slowly breathed in and out. She wondered if he was praying or cursing the same powers she cursed when she did that.

"And the black hole gets bigger and bigger," he mumbled. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Buffy, have you ever talked to anyone about all this?" She shook her head. "Not even Spike." Again, she shook her head.

"He tried. He always tries. But…" she trailed off.

"You can't figure out how to tell him?" She nodded.

"Because you never learned." He was looking at her earnestly. "All you've ever known is the physical world, and how it interacted with your body. It became the only way you knew how to talk because it was the only way that anyone ever talked to you."

"Did Spike tell you that?"

"No," he looked confused. "But, I'm betting he told *you* that. Didn't he?" She nodded.
"That's what the other night was about, wasn't it? When you broke down? You realized what he said was right, didn't you?" Riley probed. She nodded.

"Buffy, I want to ask you something, and I want you to be straight with me. Can you do that?" He gave her a piercing look. She nodded.

"Have you ever seen a counselor to learn how to deal with all of this?" She kind of nodded a moment, but then changed and shook her head.

"I'm taking that as a no?" She nodded.

"Jesus, Buffy, no wonder you went native earlier. Did you ever face *any* of the stuff you went through?"

"Of course I faced it! I did what I had to and moved on!" She was getting a little of her fire back.

"No, you didn't. You did what you had to do, yes; but you haven't moved on Buffy. You just realized two nights ago that your body is the only way you know how to connect. You never talked to anyone about all of this, because then you'd have to say it out loud. Give it meaning. Face how it made you feel. Accept what happened and actually deal with it. What happened here today? This isn't what happens when someone has learned how to deal with their past, Buffy. This is what happens when someone buries it inside and never faces it. It hides inside you, and it burns and tears you apart until you can't hold it in anymore and then it comes clawing its way to the surface."

"You're wrong."

"No, I'm not. Buffy, think about it. Did you ever seriously face any of it, or did you just try to forget it? Did you really face it? Or did you turn your back on it?"

She let her silence answer the questions for her.

"You know you can't go on like this, right? It will kill you in the end, and it will poison everything and everyone around you."

"Why do you think I've tried to leave them all behind? Everyone around me dies!" She broke down again.

"Buffy?" He asked. Oh hell, she hadn't meant to say that. She couldn't look at him.

"Buffy, who is 'everyone'?" She shook her head. She couldn't do this anymore.

"Please go."

"Not until you talk to me."

"Didn't you just say that I don't know how?" If felt a little good to throw it back at him.

"Who is 'everyone', Buffy?"

"I can't!" She was pleading with him now.

"Who?" He pressed.

"All of them!" She screamed out. "Mom, Jenny, Angel, Gabriel. All gone, because of me!"

Well, that did it. He looked pretty thrown. She'd finally gotten him to shut up.

"How?" Or, maybe not.

"Was it all the same accident?"

"What do you want from me?" She begged.

"I want you to face it, Buffy! I want you to meet it all head on. Stop running from your demons, Buffy. Face the monsters and kill them all!" It seemed like he was almost begging her, by the time he finished.

"Who are they, Buffy? Tell me." She shook her head again.

"Who is Jenny?" She couldn't stop the tears. "You said your mom and then Jenny. Who's Jenny?"

"A…Angel's mother." She took a gulping breath. "We were living with them when…" She couldn't finish.

"When the accident happened?" He guessed. She nodded.

"Gabriel?" He pressed.

She met his eyes. Her own eyes wild, pleading, begging, as she shook her head so hard that she thought her brain might rattle.

"Angel's father?" He asked. She shook her head less vehemently.

"I can't. Riley, I can't. Please!"

"Brother? Spike and Angel's brother?" She kept shaking her head. "Your brother?" She was trying to look away from him, and kept shaking her head. "Your dad?" Couldn't he understand. She can't do this.

"Who is Gabriel, Buffy?" He had moved around to the side of the bed where she was trying to escape, blocking her way. "Who is Gabriel, Buffy?"

She continued shaking her head, and now her whole body was shaking, as she tried to avoid him.

"Who… Is… Gabriel?" He was in her face now, close to shouting.

"HE'S MY SON!" She screamed, as she shoved him away with every bit of strength she could muster, send him flying back to land hard on his ass.

"He's my son," she crumbled into a heap on the floor next to the bed.

"You have a son?" Riley's small voice betrayed his shock.

"In point of fact, she has two," Spike said from the doorway. "Think it's time we all had a chat."

Riley watched as Spike moved around the room with quite purpose. Spike disappeared into the bathroom a moment, to reappear with a small towel in his hand and a cup of water. Then the guy opened the mini-fridge in the corner, popping ice cubes out of the tiny tray from the freezer compartment into the towel. After setting his items on the dresser, Spike turned and stared at Buffy for a long moment, the longing in the guy's face was so evident it was almost painful for Riley to look at. But then Spike ran a hand through his hair, schooled his face and knelt in front of Buffy, just a little outside arms reach of her. He got the distinct sense that Spike had done something like this for Buffy before.

For some reason, that thought made him a little angry. How the hell could the guy watch her go through this without getting her help? How could anyone have?

Spike was talking to her now as he was inching closer to her. At some point he had retrieved the ice and set it next to him on the floor. And then Buffy was in his arms, as she continued crying. He watched as Spike picked up an ice cube and began rubbing it on the back of her neck as she continued to cry. It seemed to be relaxing her a little, as the sobs that had been wracking her body were quieting down to a more modest level of crying.

"No, don't." He looked straight at Spike to see if he had heard him. He had, and was shooting him a glare.

"She likes it. Helps calm her down, you git."

"She doesn't need to calm down, she needs to face it!"

Spike just sighed and closed his eyes, but didn't stop with the ice.

"Look, man," Riley began. "I know she's been though a lot…"

"You have NO idea what she's been through!" Spike growled.

"I managed to draw a pretty good picture from what I could get her to tell me!" He was almost shouting now.

Spike looked at him with a wary eye, as if trying to judge if he was bluffing or if he really knew as much as he thought he did.

"Besides, you don't know everything, either. Her words, not mine." It almost felt good to throw that little jab at him. And it had worked. The guy was now looking hurt and a little confused as he stared at the wall.

"Reckon I don't at that," Spike finally replied. "No one does, except her."

"Why the hell didn't anyone ever get her to someone who could help? Any of the stuff I heard could break a person, much less all of it."

"Tried," Spike looked him straight in the eyes a minute, before looking back down at Buffy. They both realized she'd cried herself to sleep. Spike gently cradled her closer, and then stood up and moved her to the bed. Riley watched as he smoothed her hair away from her face, again with that look. That black hole was still swallowing him.

"Look, Cardboard," Spike said, walking around the bed, "I don't know what all you got her to tell you, only caught the last bit…"

"You're not making me like you any better, Spike." That got him a frustrated sigh from the guy.

"She tried, okay. Kind of hard when either no one believes you, or your dad has enough influence to make sure that no one else can get close enough to do anything. Besides, if you didn't know her, would you have believed even half of what you think you know, or would you think she was all sack of hammers, because there's no way all that happened to one person?" Spike gave him a hard look.

The more he thought about it, the more he mentally conceded that the guy might have a point. And now he had one more piece of the puzzle. Of course she didn't just have an abusive dad, she had the kind of monster that knew how to make sure he could keep her under his control. He'd had no idea about all of this, and she was his girlfriend. If she walked into somewhere and laid out everything he'd pulled out of her today, they probably would have thought her delusional or even schizophrenic. She really had done what she had to do and pushed everything away.

"Last person told her she couldn't help her if she didn't tell her everything," Spike sank down in the chair Riley had been sitting in earlier. "Buffy was afraid if she did they'd lock her away, or do something so she couldn't see the baby."

Riley sat there processing that a moment. It was mostly irrational, but not completely. Hadn't he thought about it earlier? A son. Buffy had a son. Two, according to Spike. That alone blew his mind. And one of them had apparently died at some point. That bomb went off in his head, sending a wave of pain and sympathy through him. This tiny little woman in front of him was all kinds of amazing.

"Buffy has a son." Maybe if he said it out loud he could wrap his brain around it more.

"Two, mate." Came the reply from across the room.

"But one of them is…" He didn't finish the sentence. For a long time he didn't think Spike was going to either, as he listened to the silence that hung in the room.

"What did she tell you?" It was a very weary sounding voice for such a young guy. Heck, they were all too young for any of this. And he suddenly had a little more empathy for Buffy, because he didn't want to say everything and he hadn't been front row for any of it.

"Mostly just shook her head yes or no to my questions. So far, I've pieced together that her mother died. She was raised by her father who beat her for years, and let a friend of his use her at some point. A pretty violent rape by at least two people who also tried to kill her, after which you found her. Then an accident that killed your brother and mother. And now, at some point she had two sons."

"'Bout sums it up, yeah"

"Were they a result of the rape?" It would make sense that she had walked away from them if so.

"No," Spike's voice held an edge of annoyance. "The twins were courtesy of my brother, who was apparently too stupid to figure out how to use a welly proper."

"What happened? How did they die?" Curiosity got the better of him. Had she given them up for adoption? Before or after one of them died?

He watched as a myriad of emotions played over Spikes face, as he stared at Buffy. So many emotions for such a simple question: worry, regret, fear, anger, sadness, even a small smile. Maybe it wasn't a simple question. Spike leaned his head back and closed his eyes, then took a deep breath and blew it out.

"Little over a year ago, Jenny, Buffy, and Angel were headed to an appointment. Supposed to have one of those ultrasounds to check on the twins. They were on the Interstate when the fog rolled in…"

"That big pile-up last year?" He remembered hearing about that at the time. It had been horrific judging by the pictures on the news.

"They were in the middle of it. Car was rear ended. Guy couldn't see them; was goin' faster than he should have. Hit 'em so hard they ended up wedged under the truck in front of them. Decapitated Jenny, crushed Angel and Buffy. Both were trapped. Couldn't get to Buffy till they got him out. Couldn't get him out without killin' him."

"Jesus." Riley breathed out.

"Watched him die, my dad and I." Spike was looking straight at him, and it sent a little shiver through him to imagine what that must have been like. After another breath, Spike continued.

"Buffy was in and out through the whole thing, mostly out. By the time they finally pulled her out, she'd been in labor and bleedin' inside. Rushed her to surgery; delivered Michael and Gabriel. Doctors said she nearly didn't make it. Gabriel only made it about 24 hours; combination of the trauma, blood loss, and being early. Michael pulled through, though. Buffy ended up in a coma for five days; when she woke up, she didn't remember anything."

Ok, so this was bordering on the absurd, and yet making sense in the "can't make this stuff up" sort of way.

"After that… she just wasn't the same. Like she was there, but not. Went to the funerals, but she wasn't really there. Far as I know, today's the first time she's acknowledged Gabriel even existed. Could barely get her to take care of Michael, wouldn't speak to her sister, or anyone else, except what she had to. One night she just scarpered off. Left a note that we'd all be better off without her." He was stroking her hair again.

"You've been raising her other son?" It was really more statement than question. Of course he was.

"Angel's parting gift." Spike continued to stroke Buffy's hair, as a sad smile spread across his face. "Gave them to me and made me swear to take care of them. Like I would have had a bloody choice; they're part of her."

Boy, that black hole had one hell of a gravity well. These two were so far in they were practically fused together. He also had a little more of a grip on, and maybe a little respect for, the man across from him. Oh, he still hated him. But there was a chance that he might be able to make her happy and maybe even save her from herself. Or to be more accurate, they just might save each other.

He'd been right about her not facing her demons. Hadn't faced any of it, and when it had become too much to ignore, she'd run from it, literally.

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

Her consciousness came swimming up slowly, again noting that she was in her bed, in the same spot she had been, and it was nice and quiet in her little home sweet hell hole. She breathed a heavy sigh. A dream. Not a slayer dream, just an everyday nightmare where all of your deepest darkest secrets were suddenly out in the open. That would have been awful had it been real. How would she have moved forward after that?

She supposed there was a lesson in all of it; there usually was. This one seemed to be chock full of them, though. Riley would be leaving because she wouldn't let him in. Funny thing was, dream Riley had helped her despite knowing she couldn't give him what he wanted. He'd been right, she hadn't really faced anything. She'd only ever slayed the demons in her dreams, because for the longest time it had been the only place that she could. But now…

Where did she even start? Things were such a mess. Did she do what she needed and then really move on? Give everyone the life they deserved? Did she go back and face all of them? Face…him, and everything else that might mean? Right now… she was going to start with the hottest shower she could stand.
She opened her eyes, to see Riley sitting in a chair next to the door, head dipping slightly as he nodded off. Whoa, boy. She looked behind her to the other side of the room and confirmed that Spike was sitting in a chair by the bed, not napping. She closed her eyes and sank back into the bed. Not a dream. This was actually happening. Great.

"Why won't you people just leave me alone?"

There was silence for a moment. She almost wondered if they'd heard her.

"Why do you think?" That was Riley.

"I don't know, you just like making my life a living hell? Cause I haven't had enough of that."

Someone snorted, but she wasn't sure who, but thought it was probably Spike.

"So, you ready to talk?" Riley again.

"Didn't you say I didn't know how?" She needed to get new material.

"Time you learned, isn't it?" Spike answered.

"What do you want me to say?" She turned and stared Spike straight in the eyes, daring him to answer the question. For once, he didn't rise to the challenge. He broke off the stare without a word.

"How about you then? How do you picture this going?" She stared at Riley now.

"Doesn't matter what I think, Buffy. What matters is how you need this to go."

"I'm thinking out the door would be nice." She plastered on a fake smile.

"No, that's how you *want* it to go, not how you need it to go." Riley grinned. Why was he being so cheery about this?

"Buffy," Spike piped up again. "Iowa may be a bit thick, but he's not wrong. I think… think it's time you had a little peace. Don't see that happening until you make peace with everything. Bloody hell, I'm not saying any of this right!"

"And how do I do that?" Her voice was little more catty than she'd intended.

"Face it." Riley's voice was far from catty. It was solid. Sure. "Claim it. All of it. Say it out loud. Feel it. Accept it. Own it. Or it will continue to own you."

Feel it? Isn't that what she'd done all along? Kind of hard not to feel when someone is beating it into you. When every bit of you physically hurts from head to toe.

"I don't mean literally." Stupid psych majors. "Don't shut yourself off. Feel everything you didn't let yourself feel then."

"Say I do? Say, Buffy's a slobbering idiot who runs around crying about her feelings? How exactly is that going to help anything?"

"Can't live with all that poison inside." Spike was looking at her again. "Gotta let it go."

Now she was the one who couldn't hold his stare. He was right. She wanted to let it all go. But then what? The pain had bolstered her for so long, she wasn't sure she knew how to function without it.

"I don't think I can." She looked back at Spike again. Pleading for him to understand. She wasn't sure what else she could really say at this point.

"What's stopping you, Buffy?" Riley pressed.

"I don't know how." Her eyes were starting to fill. Damn tears.

"How to what, Buffy?" Gods Riley was being a pushy bastard today.

"Any of it. Feel. Let go. Let someone in." She looked at Riley. Maybe he would understand. He was being so damn stoic though.

"I had to build walls a long time ago to keep everything out. Keep me safe. I've wanted to break them down, but they kind of took on a life of their own. Self-repairing. They didn’t just keeping everything out, they kept everything in. Every time I thought I was starting to create an opening, something would happen and the cracks would get smaller and vanish. And it got a little bigger and a little stronger."

"You don't have to do it alone, Buffy. That's what help is for." Riley was sounding a little frustrated.

"You don't understand!" She looked wildly between Riley and Spike. "Everything that is me, is inside here. If I tear it all down and everything comes spilling out, what if… what if there's…" She met Spike's eyes again. "What if there's nothing left?"

Spike closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. Did he finally understand? When his eyes opened again, she couldn't escape the intensity of his stare as he leaned towards her.

"You've never seen how strong you are, Buffy. How much you care. How you love. How beautiful you are, inside and out. Everything about you is amazing; and no matter what happens, there will *never* be nothing left inside."

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let him in. Wanted to let herself try to be happy. To be the person he thought she could be. She just didn't know if she could. And she couldn't bear to hurt him if she couldn't. He was her constant, her north star. If she lost that…

"I don't want to hurt you." It slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

And yet, judging by his face, she'd done just that. He was pulling back now, away from her. She didn't know how, but somehow she'd just screwed everything up again.

"Oh for the love of…" She heard Riley talking, but could stop looking at Spike as he withdrew.

"You two really are hopeless; you know that, don't you?" Buffy suddenly decided there was a lot of lint on the cover that needed to be picked off.

"Look, I don't know your whole story, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to. What I do know, is that you two are drawn together like some sort of binary star. You couldn't escape each other if you tried. And all of this stuff that happened, it's like a black hole that is sucking you both in. Neither one of you can get out without the other because you're tied together. If one goes, the other does too. So what're you going to do about it?"

She glanced up at Spike briefly. Was it true? Granted, it was an epic nerd reference, but it made a sort of sense. She saw Spike briefly glance back at her. What was he thinking?

"Stupid, stubborn, pigheaded…" Riley stopped his tirade and gave a couple of very audible deep breaths.

"Spike, have you *ever* told Buffy, point blank, that you're in love with her?" Spike looked up and straight into her eyes. She stared right back at him.

"She knows how I feel about her."

"Not what I asked, Spike."

"No, alright? Never said it. They're just words. Tried to tell every other way I could think of." Spike was still staring into her eyes.

"Tell her."

Spike looked behind her to Riley, a question on his face and what looked like… worry? Why was he worried?

"God, you're as bad as she is. Tell her, Spike."

She waited. He looked at her. She wasn't sure he was going to do it. He was right, she knew. Had used it against him, and let it comfort her at different times. He was taking so long. Did he still love her?
"Buffy," He started. He left it there for a few long seconds. "I love you. Been in love with you as long as I can remember. Nothing will ever change that."

Her breathing was coming a little faster. It was one thing to know it, to hear others say it. It was a whole other thing to have his look her in the eyes and say it himself after all these years and all the hell they'd been through.

"Great. Now… Buffy, have you ever told Spike point blank you're in love with him?"

What? She turned and looked at Riley. Had she ever told Spike… in love with him? Was she in love with him? She loved him, yes. With all of her heart… and maybe a bit of her soul… and, oh god.

"This is…" Riley's eyebrows were practically in his hairline with his shocked expression. "You didn't know?" He asked, his voice holding more than a little wonder. "You had to know, hell *I* knew! How did you not… you didn't know?"

She turned back around to look at Spike, who was studiously looking anywhere except at her. Could she be? In love with him? Was she?

"Oh, God…" Again, it slipped right out of her mouth before she could stop it. It got his attention, because now he *was* looking straight at her. She had a feeling what she said next would change everything forever.

"Oh, God…" Again, it slipped right out of her mouth before she could stop it. It got his attention, because now he *was* looking straight at her. She had a feeling what she said next would change everything forever.

What did she say? What could she say? Was he right? Was she in love with Spike? She loved him, absolutely. He’d been the one sure thing in her life ever since that day he showed up at her door asking for cream of tartar so Jenny could make a pie. The same day Angel had first spied her in the alley, and seen the bruise on her cheek. Spike had come by the next day after she got home from school and knocked on her door until she’d finally given up and opened it, telling him to go away. He’d been stubborn even then, insisting that she let him in. She’d been just as stubborn, and refused. He’d lifted her hair from the side of her face, tucking it behind her ear, and then ever so gently run his thumb over the bruise on her face, despite the fact she’d covered it pretty well, he’d known it was there. He didn’t say anything, just smiled as he stared into her eyes. She’d eventually told him she had to finish her chores and shut the door on him. He came by every day after that, pounding on the door until she opened it. Some days he just smiled at her, looking at her as if he could divine the secrets she kept by staring at her. Others, he would sit on her front porch talking about his day until she would finally come out and talk, if just for a moment.

Then Angel started doing the same, sneaking moments with her when she took the trash out each evening. More dangerous, since any moment her father could have seen them. And yet, he seemed like he couldn’t care less. For as much as Spike had become her best friend, who watched over her, who waited every day to make sure she was ok, who she knew cataloged every new bruise or scratch; Angel seemed to never see the marks after that first night, like they never existed. And that was part of what drew her to him. With Angel, she could pretend they didn’t exist.

And yet looking back, Spike had given her equal attention while silently acknowledging each and every mark. To Angel, she was flawless. To Spike, the flaws were part of what made her beautiful. And at the time, she’d adored that Angel saw her as flawless. She’d needed that. She needed the friend she had in Spike to give her strength; she’d needed the love of Angel to keep her sane. Angel would take charge of everything but her. Spike would unknowingly give her the strength to keep going. Together, they’d given her the hope she needed that someday she could start living, because some day she just knew her life would really begin, and then… then it would really be something.

She’d done what she had to do. What she needed to do. Without Angel, she didn’t think she would be here. She’d needed him like she needed air to breathe. Just in a different way than how she’d needed Spike. She’d loved them both in her own way, but she’d been truly “in love” with Angel. Why? Because she’d needed to be? No, it wasn’t that simple. She couldn’t reduce the love they had together to something so simple. There was something much more complex to it, that she just couldn’t really describe, even to herself. Something that on different levels made her follow her heart to Angel. It hadn’t even been a choice at the time. It just was. And then it wasn’t; because Angel was gone.

And now? Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? Looking back, on some level she thought she probably had known his feelings for her. She hadn’t ever really admitted it until Giles had confronted her that night that seemed like a lifetime ago. She’d certainly known it since then. Felt it will every fiber of her being. She’d let it calm her and soothe her when she’d felt so lost and alone. She’d tried to let it fill her when she’d felt so empty, but the void had been too great and swallowed her whole. Suddenly Riley’s reference about a black hole finally had context. Spike had been trying to pull her out of it, jumping into the void with her to try and set her free from it. Only, now that she thought about it, he’d jumped in that day 12 years ago when he’d seen the monster she lived with, and came back the next day anyway. That day he’d ghosted over her cheek and sweetly smiled, his gaze so intense she’d had to run from it. She could still see it now in her mind. She’d seen the same look a hundred times or more since that day. Always the same look. That sweet smile, as those blue eyes burned into her own as if he could reach into her soul with them and take away her pain, or at least share it. At some point she’d stopped letting him, stopped meeting his eyes when he had that look, because she was absolutely certain that if she let him, just one more time, she’d fall into them and be lost forever. She’d fall… she’d…. fall… in…

“Oh, God… Spike…”

**********

The silence stretched on for an eternity. He watched as a myriad of emotions played across her face. Her mind seemed to be running a mile a minute, as she stared off into space. After what seemed like forever, he started to worry that she’d gone into some sort of fugue state. Her eyes darting back and forth, seeing something visible only to her. As the silence stretched into minutes, he glanced worriedly over at cardboard. He also looked a little worried, and was starting to make his way over to them, but told him to give her just a little longer. She was obviously lost in thought, but the question was whether she would come back to them. Had that simple question finally done the impossible? Had that one thing been the thing that finally broke Buffy Summers?

And what if she did come out of it? What then? What if her answer was that she wasn’t in love with him? What if she never was nor never would be? Could he live with that? Could he continue on, keeping his promise to Angel and himself all the while knowing she’d never love him? Would it be enough? For him? For her? What if she left again? What if she took Michael with her?

He’d been patient all this time, certain in his own certainty that someday she would say it. She would realize it, and she would say it. He knew she felt it, and that some day, she would say it. Had he been foolishly hoping that he’d seen it there, in her eyes? That in those moments, she’d felt it, and returned it?

What if she said yes? What if she did say she was in love with him? Would she mean it? Or would she just be saying it because they’d forced her hand? She was a survivor, and as he’d recently discovered, she was a capable strategist. Would she say it just to get them to leave her alone? Would she say it because she thought it was what he wanted to hear? Would she say it because she thought it was in her best interest? Would she say it at all? Would she mean it if she did? Could he take that chance? Could he…

“Oh, God… Spike…”

And suddenly she was back. He met her eyes, and she met his. He tried to read what was in them before she could say whatever she was going to say. Because whatever it was, it could very well change everything, forever. But what he saw in that instant was shock. Whatever she was going to say, she had shocked even herself.

He kept looking at her, sure that eventually he could see it. Whatever “it” was. And she kept looking at him. Like she was seeing him for the first time. He hadn’t expected to see that there.

And that was when he made up his mind.

Just as she started to speak, he placed a finger across her lips, silencing her. He saw the question in her eyes. What was he doing? Why had he stopped her? Why wouldn’t he let her speak?

“No.” Panic, there was panic in her eyes, now.

“Not here. Not now.” Questioning again. What did he mean?

“I’m giving you control, Buffy. Whatever it is, you can tell me when you’re ready. But not now. Not this moment.” Understanding slowly mixed with the confusion in her eyes.

He kept looking at her a moment longer, lost in those eyes. He could drown in those eyes. He smiled. When she let him look at her like this, really look at her with her looking back at him, something ethereal happened, like he could almost feel her heart and soul entwine with his own. She didn’t let him do this much anymore. Would this be the last time?

Something changed in her eyes just then. Was he fooling himself? Wishful thinking? Seeing what he wanted to see? Time would tell. It was up to her now.
He dropped his finger and broke the gaze. He stood up and made his way to the door, grabbing his coat along the way. Cardboard seemed to be lost in confusion, looking back and forth between him and Buffy, trying to figure out what had just happened and probably why he’d gone and done something certifiably insane. Just as he stepped through the door, he paused. He glanced over his shoulder, and left her with one last thought.

“I didn’t say it, because I expect you to say it back, or to get anything from you. It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with who and what you are, how you try, everything about you. I said it because I meant it. I love you.”

And with that, he closed the door behind him and was gone.

“Okaaay, what the heck just happened here?” Riley’s voice broke the silence that followed the sound of the door latching shut.

“Buffy?” He said, coming the rest of the way around the bed until he was face to face with her. “You still with me, here?”

“Oh, God…” was all she could say.

‘Yeah, you keep saying that. Are you planning on finishing that sentence and then, maybe, I don’t know, moving on to another one?” He plastered on a hopeful smile.

She stared at Riley for a long time as she contemplated what to say. She was at a loss just then. She kind of assumed that epiphany’s had that effect on people. Riley must have understood that on some level, because his smile turned from hopeful to accepting as he nodded.

“You *didn’t* know.” It was a statement of fact. “And… now you do.” Also a statement. “Well, that was… unexpected.”

He moved to the chair Spike had occupied minutes before.

“Ok, so, not exactly the breakthrough I had hoped for tonight, but I guess it’s… something.”

Boy, was that an understatement. And led to a question of its own.

“Why?” She looked at him. Why had he done it? Pushed them to this point?

“Why is it something?” Riley’s confusion was apparent in his wrinkled forehead.

“Why did you make him say that?”

“Is that what you really want to know?” He countered her question with another.

“Yes?” She answered and asked at the same time. “Maybe?”

He smiled.

“You mean, why would I try to get my girlfriend and another guy to admit they were in love with each other?”

She nodded. Then decided that was only part of it.

“Why did you come here today?” Resolve was creeping its way back into her voice.

“Which one do you want me to answer first?” He grinned.

“Both.” That got a little chuckle from him.

“You don’t ask much, do you?” He laughed again.

“Honestly?” He began. “I came here because I wanted to help you. After the other night, I went looking for Spike. I guess I thought that maybe he could help me understand what was going on in that head of yours. But all he would tell me was that somehow that whole episode was somehow a good thing… a step in the right direction, I guess.”

He looked at her then. She gave him a look that she hoped would tell him to keep going. After a second, he did.

“Between that and the time you kicked my butt in the quad, I had a suspicion about what you might be dealing with. But I had no idea…” He paused to take a deep breath. “I had no idea…” He paused again. “God, Buffy, I had *no* idea.”

He looked at her. Hard. His eyes held a little bit of what looked like awe. His eyes and that look, it was almost like looking at Angel again. She broke the gaze and stared at the floor.

“As for Spike? Well, I think that maybe I was just hoping that if I could get you to break out of what ever had this hold on you, then you could take off the mask and let someone in. Let someone close. Be a part of your life. I was hoping that could be me, but on some level I really knew it wouldn’t be.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw that sad little smile again as he was looking at her.

“Then, when he showed up today, I knew. You didn’t love me. How could you? You were in love with him. And he was drowning in you. Seeing you two… I don’t know, I just… knew.”

His face turned serious, as he sat forward and looked at her in earnest.

“Now, my turn.” He paused a long second. “Are you ready to take your mask off? Let someone in?”

Well, was she? It was a huge risk. What if she let someone in, and then…

“If I do? You have no idea how many times I’ve let someone in, only to… I don’t think I’m meant to be happy.” She whispered out.

“I don’t believe that,” He asserted. She gave a short bark of a laugh.

“If you’d lived my life, you would.”

“Does Spike believe that?”

She really didn’t have to think about the answer to that.

“Spike believes…” How did she end that sentence? Spike believed that she was the strongest person on earth? Spike believed she could bounce back from everything? Spike believed…

“...In you?” Riley finished the sentence for her. It brought the tiniest smile to her.

“Yeah. He always has.”

“Why do you think that is, Buffy?”

She smiled a little more. She didn’t really mean to, but there you go. “Because he loves me.”

And that’s when it hit her. Somehow saying it out loud made it so much more… so much *more*. She felt tears starting to fill her eyes and looked up at Riley.

“He loves me,” emotion began to choke her, threatening to spill out of her. “He loves me… oh God, Riley, he loves me…” Suddenly there were big strong arms around her, holding her and rocking her back and forth as tears rolled down her face. “He loves me.”

Riley continued holding her for a few minutes, then set her back at arm’s length, still holding her firmly, as the tears started to subside a bit.

“And?” Riley prompted.

She stared at him a moment, trying to figure out what he meant, when it dawned on her what he was prompting her for.

“Say it, Buffy,” He urged. “Out loud, Buffy. If you believe it, say it. Make it real. Hear it. Feel it…”

She felt her face crumble as the words forced themselves out of her, as if they had a will of their own.

“I love him.” Great big engulfing sobs started spilling out of her in buckets now, as she gulped for air between breaths, intermixed with a litany of “I love him” repeated over and over.

Riley was holding her again, and soothing her as she finally let the walls crumble away. Just a bit. She hoped it was enough. The question now was… where did she go from here?”

Buffy found that once she’d gotten all that out, she was sort of at a loss for what to do now. Should she go after Spike and let him know that she was finally ready to say what he’d been waiting to hear? Then what? Fall back into the same routine? Pick up like nothing ever happened. She didn’t think that was necessarily a successful plan of attack.

Plan of attack? Since when did she need a plan of attack with Spike? Since she decided to take one last risk on following her heart, that’s when.

And why was Riley just sitting there watching her pace back and forth in her own room? Shouldn’t he have left by now? What else did he want? Was he expecting her to make some other big revelation?

She stopped and turned to face him, assuming her best ‘I’m in control’ pose, with her arms crossed and one foot planted slightly forward, toe tapping impatiently.

Which seemed to amuse him for some strange reason.

“Something else you’re expecting to happen, Riley?”

“Just enjoying watching you try to figure out your next move,” he grinned, crossing his own arms in a gesture of ‘I’m not buying the attitude’.

That unsettled her just a bit. Was she really that readable? Had she pulled off too much of her mask?

“Well?” He asked.

“Well, what?” She parroted. That earned her an eye roll from him.

“So what are you going to do now?” He clarified.

Wasn’t that the million dollar question.

“I don’t know!” Buffy said, flopping down and back on the bed in frustration.

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sure, why not. Seems to be the order of the day.” She opined.

“Look, the way I see it, you could run off after Spike and try to pick up wherever you guys left off…”

“There was nowhere that got ‘left off’,” She snarked.

“Are you certain about that?”

Huh. That was a hell of a question. Had she missed something? Did Spike tell him that there was something?

“What makes you say that?” She looked over at Riley, one eyebrow cocked in clear disbelief.

“What makes you think there wasn’t?” Riley cocked his own eyebrow in challenge.

“We just weren’t ever like that.” She insisted.

The silence that followed made her look over to see if Riley heard her response. Now he had the look of disbelief. Which made her wonder…

“Did Spike tell you something I don’t know?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

Riley snorted. Snorted! “He's not exactly the chatty kind. So, you mean to tell me that you guys have never dated? Kissed? Slept together?”

Buffy was going to immediately deny any of it, but then, that wasn’t *all* exactly wrong, was it?

“As I was saying…”

She shot him a look of warning. Which made him smile again. Why did he find all of this so dang funny?

“You could do that. But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Ok, now he had her attention.

“Go on.”

“Buffy, you got to this point for a reason.”

“And why is that, oh wise one?” She rolled her eyes and looked back up at the ceiling.

“I’m serious, Buffy. Look, I get it. You did what you had to do. You felt like you didn’t have any choice but to push everything aside and keep going. And sure, that might work for a little while, but it’s not a long term solution.”

“Riley…” She really hoped he picked up on the warning in her voice. She didn’t like the direction this was going.

“Hear me out,” He urged. “You can’t keep doing the same thing over and over. You’re just going in circles and all it is doing is digging you deeper and deeper into a hole. Eventually, you won’t be able to climb out of it. And it’ll be sooner rather than later. You need to see someone.”

“I’ve tried, OK?” She sat up, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “It doesn’t help. They just sit there and stare at me like I’m some sort of freak, waiting to hear my freaky little story, so they can probably tell me I need some freaky little medicine to get rid of my delusions. Think about it, Riley… if I had walked up to you one day and told you my life story, would *you* believe even half it?”

“I get it. I do. But let me talk to some people…”

“NO! You will NOT tell anyone else any of this!”

“Not what I meant.” He held his hand up in a sign of surrender. “I just meant let me do some general checking and see…”

“NO.” That was all she was going to say.

“Ok, ok.” Once again with the hands up in surrender as he leaned back in the chair. “But you need to talk to someone, Buffy.”

“What about you?” It was a last ditch effort.

“Me?!”

“Yes, you!”

“How am I qualified to do anything other than shake my head and say, ‘hmmmm’?” Riley demonstrated his point.

“Look Riley, I know you just want to help, but trust me on this. I tried it. More than once. Different people. I’m not going down that road again.”

Riley huffed out a breath as he stared up at the ceiling. Buffy contemplated if she was going to stay in the little room much longer, she should put some posters or something up there, as much as everyone kept staring at it. Maybe some Zen sayings or something. Couldn’t hurt anything.

Buffy began wondering around the room, straightening up everything. There was a cup of water sitting on the desk with a hand towel next to it. Pillows, chairs, blankets, her… everything just needed to be put back in place.

“Buffy?”

“Hmmm?”

“You said that Spike didn’t know everything?”

She stopped, but only for a moment.

“No one knows everything.”

“Except you.”

She nodded. No need to say anything more.

“So why not talk to Spike?”

“I talk to Spike all the time.” Well, she had at one point, anyway.

“But he doesn’t know everything?” Riley gently pressed.

She tossed a pillow a little too hard towards the bed, overshooting it by a little and sending it right by Riley’s head. Ok, so she’d thrown it. What caught her off guard, was that Riley caught it.

“Tell him.”

“What?” She asked, barely loud enough for her own ears to pick up.

“All of it. Tell him everything.”

“I don’t think… It’s not something I can just…say.”

Riley seemed to consider that for a moment.

“Write it down.”

“Write it down?” Buffy asked.

“Write it down. Put it in writing. Type it out. Write a poem. Draw a picture. Ok maybe not that. Put your story in words. Heck, write a book if you want, just… write it down.”

“You want *me* to write a story?”

“Yes, *your* story.”

“And then what?” Buffy asked. “Give someone my manuscript?” Buffy asked, half joking.

“Sure, why not?”

“Sure! Why Not! I’m sure it would make the New York Best Seller’s List. ‘No Happily Ever After’ by Buffy Summers.”

Riley let a laugh slip before he caught himself and covered his mouth. She gave him her best hairy eyeball. To his credit, he managed to get control pretty quickly.

“Just… write it down, Buffy. One line at a time. Write one page. Then the next, and the next. Then when you think you’re ready, give it to him. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s not about creating a masterpiece. It’s about you getting it out, giving it life, and letting it go.”

She rolled the idea around in her head a bit, but everything seemed kind of muddled. She glanced at the clock. It was late. Or rather, really early. No wonder she couldn’t think straight. Maybe what she needed was to not think for a little while.

“I’ll think about it,” She said. “Tomorrow. But right now, I think what I need is to take the world’s hottest shower and sleep. It’s been a long, long, day.”

“That’s an understatement.” Riley replied as he stood up and walked toward the door. “You’ll consider it, though?” He asked, reaching for the doornob.

“I’ll think about it.” She conceded.

Riley nodded, then opened the door.

“Riley?!” She called after him. A little more urgently than she’d intended.

He froze in his tracks, and after a second turned to look at her.

“Thank you.”

He smiled, a sad little smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He nodded. And then he left.

The shower felt long overdue, and she let the scalding spray and steam wash away the tension and tears, while providing the healing warmth and clarity of rejuvenation.

She quickly dried her hair, applied her lotion, brushed her teeth, and got dressed for bed, letting herself get lost in the familiarity of routine and then settling into her sheets to let sleep claim her.

Her mind had other ideas.

Thoughts and feelings raced around her head. Moments from the day. Moments from her life. All surfacing and screaming to be given breath while stealing her blessed sleep.

Maybe Riley was onto something.

Kicking off her covers, she slid her feet into her fuzzy slippers and shuffled over to the little desk in her room. She rifled through her books and papers until she found a notebook that was mostly empty. She wasn’t really one for writing stories, but maybe if she just started writing….

And so she did. Letting the storm inside spill forth on pen and paper, until sleep’s blessed oblivion finally claimed her.

He found her there the next evening. She was sound asleep at her desk, mouth slightly open. There might have even been a little snoring involved. In a cute and girly sort of way. He’d wanted to give her enough time to sleep and think about what he’d suggested, but not enough that she would revert to her mask and lose any ground she’d gained. Apparently she’d done more than think about his suggestion, if the pages of notebook paper scattered around the desk were any indication. Page after page of what appeared to be… free form poetry?

Where has my father gone
The gentle man who once was here
Who carried me up to bed each night
And tucked my hair behind my ear
Who laughed as he tossed me high in the air
The one who always hugged me tight
And brushed away all my tears?

There is someone now who wears his face
Hugs are gone, no words of love
Now iron hands have taken their place
Where is my father, he isn’t here
Just an empty shell with a mask of his face
Filling itself with cigarettes and secretaries
Whiskey and beer…

He wasn’t sure what he had expected her to write, but that wasn’t it. And yet, scanning through the pages, this was raw powerful emotion that had Buffy written all over it.

Fear... I feel it rolling off of them in waves.
People who previously wouldn't give me the time of day
Now scramble to get out of my way.
I didn't plan it this way. It just kind of happened. I just… snapped
No more pansy little thing that takes whatever is given to her.
I've definitely moved into want, take, have, territory.
I hear the whispers as I stalk by; the big cat, surveying her territory.
Beautiful. Enigmatic. Fucking scary as hell.
Good. A little more fear. It feeds me. Infuses me. Fills me with energy.
Pushes the bounds just a little bit more.
I see the look in their eyes. The guys. They want to reach out and touch
But they know that if they do, they risk having their arm snapped.
That's the problem with touching the flame, you tend to get burned.
And burned they will be.
It's pure power, knowing that I can draw them in.
Feed my hunger. Feel beautiful. Feel wanted. Feel.
And for someone who never had an ounce of power before in their life
It’s a hunger that is insatiable. And one that I can feed at will.
They want to be the one who conquered. But that’s not going to happen.
I’ll conquer them first.
And it feeds the fear. And it feeds the power.
And it's absolute ambrosia that flows over the tongue and fills each nook and crevice
But it never fully satisfies.
But satiety is over rated, and being filled is a hell of a lot better than being empty.
So I let the predator come out to play. She won't go back in her cage.
She's tasted freedom and will die before she surrenders it.
She's drunk on the power, the adrenalin, the rush. She loves the challenge.
The hunt.
The kill.
Most people move down on the food chain. I’ve moved up.

Aaand, that was both scary and hot at the same time. And made probably a whole lot more sense that he was comfortable acknowledging at just that moment. He continued looking through the pages for one with a little more pathos to take his mind off of over thinking that last one.

It seems so long since last we met
Though time has never dulled a single moment.
And with every passing day of the year
I never fail to feel you oh so near.
You weren't the only angels
I've borrowed all too briefly,
But certainly you are the ones
Whose presence I miss the most.
Sometimes I let my mind wonder
To things that have been
That never were
That never will be.
But only for a moment
For that world is done and gone.
Though I also know
That you've never really left.
Because I still hear your gentle whispers
Sometimes clearer than my own thoughts.
And my heart sings with the clarity
That it is your gentle wings
That have guarded the angels I now borrow.
For every now and then
A whisper makes it through.
Or I feel the gentle kissing glance
Of angel's soft and downy wings
And I know without a single doubt
You're thinking of me too.

Hmmm, pathos for sure. But not quite as developed as some of the others. It had the saccharine flavor of trying too hard, like a tween writing an dirge to her true love. But some of these were something he’d almost expect to hear at open mic night down town. And that thought suddenly gave him an idea. Maybe he couldn’t get her to talk to one person behind closed doors, but… maybe he *could* get her to talk to a crowd, in the semi-comfort of creative anonymity?

He scanned through the rest of the things she had written. Looking for just the right one. There was one she’d titled “The Basement”

Dingy, dinged, white boxes line the wall
machines holding the laundry that was supposed to be clean
White stone walls, holding back dirt and sound and safety
Cold that turns to white hot searing burning
Floor that tastes of dirt and salt and blood
Darkness that fades to darker black with each and every crack

The more he read, the more he knew he shouldn’t. He set it aside. Maybe one day she’d let him finish reading it.

He flipped through the rest, pages of poems with names like, “Four Times the Bell Tolled” which he’d assumed would be an Edgar Allen Poe inspired short about the four people he’d learned about. He’d been very, very, wrong.

One called “Chocolate” that was an oddly touching little ode to who he assumed was Angel. It had definite potential for what he had in mind. Another titled “Lapis Lazuli” that was and interesting, geological metaphor heavy, tribute to someone. He could venture a guess who. It also had potential, but still not quite what he was looking for.

Here…yes… this was the one. If she could do this one, she could do anything. And it was powerful enough, with plenty of metaphor to appeal to a bunch of poetry types. Now all he had to do was convince her to read it.

**********

“You can’t be serious?” Buffy was brushing out her mess of a mane

“Buffy, this could be perfect for you. It’s a chance to get rid of all of this stuff you’ve been bottling up.”

“Yes, because I’ve always wanted to open myself up and spill out my secret feelings to a room full of random people so they can judge me. Riley, how can I ever thank you enough for finding just the right place to do it.”

“That’s just it Buffy, they aren’t there to judge you. And they’re all spilling out secret feelings to a room full of random people. They expect it. Buffy, I’m telling you they’ll love it.”

“I don’t know, Riley….”

“Look, just give it one shot. One try, that’s all I ask. Just go in and listen to a few of them. Then, if you don’t think I’m right, we’ll leave.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” She was pretty sure he had a few fingers or toes crossed too.

“Fine,” She started, “BUT, and there is a really big ‘but’, if I see anyone at all that I know…”

“uh huh”

“OR I get a weird vibe…”

“mm,hmmm”

“OR I start to think this whole idea is full of…”

“I get the idea, Buffy.”

“I will leave, with or without you.”

“Understood.”

She sat down with a sign of resignation.

“So, what time does the Titanic set sail?”

Riley told her to quite fidgeting for about the hundredth time, but she just couldn’t help it. What if someone who knew her walked in? What if someone recognized her name? What if everyone laughed at her?

“Relax Buffy, I’m fairly certain most of these guys could make William MacGonagall sound good.”

She was pretty sure that was supposed to make her feel better. If she had any clue who William MacGonagall was, it might help. However, as each person stepped up to the microphone and recited their poetry, she thought maybe she understood. At least a little. Some of the stuff was pretty ok. She’d dabbled in reading poetry back in high school. Angel had even given her a book of love sonnets after he caught her reading Brontë.

The more people got up and read, the more Buffy began to feel that maybe she could do this. She made another scan of the crowd, just to check for the fortieth time, or so, that she didn’t recognize anyone. Riley had kept pointing out how accepting the crowd was of each poet’s efforts. Even the really bad ones were getting cheers and encouragement. Not as much as the good ones, but it was something. The herd of waiting performers were beginning to get a bit thin. It was now or never.

Oh God, what if she forgot the lines? A little voice inside reminded her that the lines were inside her, and had been for a long time. There was no such thing as forgetting an integral part of yourself.

Riley gave her hand an encouraging squeeze as she slowly stood and made her way toward the stage, as the emcee issued a call for any else that wanted to speak, because they still had a few slots left. Don’t look back. Don’t look around. Don’t look back. Don’t look around. She walked up to the emcee and leaned in to give him her name and information. Her hands had gone as cold as ice, so why were they sweaty? He nodded and took the stage.

“Alright folks, settle down. We’ve got a pleasant surprise for you. Now, this is her first time with us here, so please, everyone give it up for the brave new voice of Annie Winters!”

Buffy slowly crept up the steps, and made her way to the microphone. The lights pointing at the stage were bright and slightly hurt her eyes, that had long adjusted to the dark interior of the bar. She found that slightly comforting, because it kept her from seeing the faces of all the people who were now all probably staring at her.

She took a deep breath. Then another. She closed her eyes, trying to see the words on the page she’d written. Until that little voice crept up again. No, don’t see it… feel it. Feel the words, Buffy. You can do this. One more breath, and she began to speak.

A sea of raw emotion
screaming, boiling, churning, rolling,
beating, pleading, needing to be set free.
Partially hidden behind a wall of opaque glass
Only the smallest hint escapes through tiny cracks,
desperately pounding, rushing, trying to escape.
But the cracks always seal over;
and the glass becomes thicker
emotions harder to express.
Another self stares through these eyes,
beating useless fists against the glass wall,
desiring to touch the outside flame of true existance
not this hidden life that others-
cannot fathom of its greatest depths:
full to exploding,
yet ceaseless void.
It wants to destroy the wall-
the one so tired of holding back the tide-
but, the wall will not crumble
no matter how willing to do so.
The storm rages and beats against it
and yet it only briefly falters;
it was built to last forever,
to withstand the greatest devastation,
and every time the storm tide carves a hole
it is self-repairing
automatic
unstoppable
against its own will.
For I made this wall so perfect,
this prison so complete;
no hope of ever escaping,
My soul shall never be
free.

She exhaled, the words finally having finished flowing from her. She’d done it. And now, the silence was deafening. She turned to leave, when suddenly she heard a roar. It startled her. What was… who… it was the crowd. And they were cheering… for her? For her! Her hand came up to her mouth, to stifle the cry before it could escape. Not knowing what else to do, she gave a little bow and a wave, and left the stage as quickly as her legs would carry her, beating a quick path back to Riley and their little table in the back.

She collapsed into her chair, her knees giving out as she reached it, and flopped her forehead down on the tabletop. She felt Riley’s strong hand between her shoulders, and was grateful for the support. After a few more breaths, she regained her composure and sat up to see Riley’s goofy smile shining brightly at her in all its 100 watt glory.

“So how do you feel?” He asked

“Now that the whole wanting to vomit has subsided?” She asked. “Oddly, I don’t know, is buzzing a feeling?”

He laughed a second before stifling it. “See! I told you, this could be exactly what you need.”

“I don’t know. Once is one thing… more than that….”

“Alright folk, we have one more for you, tonight, unless anyone else wants to take our last spot. He’s a semi-regular folks, so you know the drill... What’s that?... Oh, even better. This is highly unusual, as we don’t get many in our little joint who are willing, but it’s my understanding he going wing it this evening! Give it up for William the Bloody!”

Buffy decided that was probably a good time to leave. She’d done what she came to do and satisfied Riley’s strange request. She gave Riley a nod of her head towards the door, and he seemed to take the hint. They got up and started to make their way towards the exit. They’d only made it steps when the poem started.

The Slayer

No. God please no. Her body froze instantly and her eyes closed of their own volition as the words washed over her.

She walks with heroes, cloaked
in the darkness of the soul.
Her heart wrapped around her, engulfing
her in invisible armor.
Vampires born of blood and relishing violence, are
reduced to so much dust in the wind.
Monsters feasting on the flesh of the young, hands covered in slime,
are left in a heap, broken and bleeding.
Even those who fancy themselves hell gods in the guise of human beings,
will be locked away in prisons, until their rotting hearts cease to beat.
And monsters of the human kind, having fortified themselves with
the first and oldest evil of misogyny and base bragging, of stones
will be cleaved from stem to stern and all points north,
the two halves no longer part of the whole.
Even death itself, having
kissed her countenance more times than I can count,
attempted to make her it’s imperfect lover, lost
its grip, as she forges forward, day by day
She walks with heroes, cloaked
in armor bearing scars that serve to strengthen, and
shine, building the perfect armor, fitting
like a second skin, her heart and soul better and brighter than fire.
To us, she may appear a tiny slip of a woman,
the one girl in all the world, she
alone with the strength to stand, against
the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.
She is the one
The one thing that I’ve ever been sure of.
The Chosen One,
The Slayer.

The drive back to her motel had been mostly silent. After his performance Spike had all but vanished into thin air. Riley had apologized profusely from not seeing him, even though she assured him she didn’t blame him. After that? Silence. Right up until she was getting out of the car.

“Buffy?”

Ugh. Was he going to apologize again? How much more did she need to reassure him she was ok?

“Riley, look…”

“Just give it one more chance.”

Well, that wasn’t what she was expecting him to say.

“Are we talking about…” She left the question hanging in the air.

“Open mic. The bar. Getting it all out.”

Hmm.

“I don’t know, Riley…”

“Buffy, just stop for minute. Think back to earlier tonight. That feeling you had right after you got off that stage. How did it make you feel?”

So many words began popping into her head. Shocked. Relieved. Surprised. Overwhelmed. Elated. Satisfied. Free.

Wow. Where had that one come from? And yet, she couldn’t quite deny it either. Even if only for a little while, it had given her a feeling of being free.

“What if… what if…he’s…”

“So what? If he is? Isn’t that why you were writing it down? To tell him everything?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know he was going to…”

“Hear it?” Riley interrupted her.

“Respond,” She finished.

He seemed to think about that for a moment.
“So, you can talk to him, but he can’t talk to you?”

“Not exactly what I would call that.”

“Really? Because now that I think about it, metaphors aside, I think that there was a whole conversation going on that the rest of us didn’t understand.”

Buffy smiled. He was and wasn’t wrong.

“No metaphor, no conversation.”

That got her a confused look. He seemed to think about it for a while. She watching him start to say something and then stop. She decided that it was good time to finally get out of the car.

“And on that note…”

“So, Tuesday? Same time?” Riley looked at her, hopeful.

Could she? Would she? In a box, with a fox? Or potentially a Spike?

“Tuesday. Same time.”

**********

Tuesday came a lot sooner than she thought it would. She had decided that perhaps she would go with one of the things she’d written that were a little less soul revealing, just in case he was there again. So far, neither she nor Riley had spied him anywhere. She’d checked the open mic sign up sheet a few times, and hadn’t spotted his name, either William or Spike, anywhere on it. Thus far, they’d made it through most of the list with no sign of ‘William the Bloody’ showing up. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse about getting up and reciting her piece.

“Alright everyone, this next one made quite the first impression here on Saturday, so we’re excited to see her back. Let’s see what she has for us tonight. Will she be a new favorite? You tell me! Get ready for Annie Winters!

And there went the butterflies again as she walked up on stage. Right up until the moment she could no longer see anyone, closed her eyes, breathed deep, and let the words flow.

Every slap, every hit, every punch, every blow
Reminds me that there is more than just me.
A call to duty that I can not ignore.
I am a guardian, a protector, a soldier.
I am my sister’s keeper.
A fighter in the battle to be free
From fear, from hate, from oppression.
And she will be. Oh, yes, she will be.
Every slap, every hit, every punch, and every blow
Is one more that she will never feel.
One less bit of pain that she will never have to take
Because I will take every single one you throw.
Until that day, so very soon, when time is one my side…

The words went on, freeing themselves from her in a stream a conscience. Until finally, there were no more. She waited only a moment before the audience gave its approval. Even on the way back to the relative safety of Riley, she wasn’t sure that had been the right one to recite, but it was over now.

The next performer was already beginning and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stick around, or leave. Riley seemed to sense her dilemma and suggested they go ahead and leave. It was then that she realized that she was disappointed that he hadn’t been there. As they were leaving, she paused at the door to put on her jacket against the chill in the air outside. And that was when it happened.

And she shall rise
Like the sun in the east, she can not be caged
No curse of man, nor celestial will
Could ever keep her from her course.

She turned, and there he was on the stage, his eyes piercing through the crowd and straight to her, as if she were the only other person in the room

And she shall rise
Like the ocean tide that bows only to the moon
No creation of mortal ever made
Can contain the ebb and flow of blessings from her bounty.

And she shall rise
Like the warrior goddess Sekhmet, with fire in her veins
No villain who stands before her
Can help but tremble in the presence of her might.

And she shall rise
Like the phoenix, who is from ashes reborn
No trial of fire or flame or time
Can do anything more than renew the magnificence inside her.

And she shall rise
For she is all of these and more
The warrior, the phoenix, the sun, the tide, the goddess
The only constant in the universe unwavering - mother, maiden, crone.
And she shall rise

**********
And so it went. Every Tuesday and Saturday she would work up the nerve to recite something she’d written. And every Tuesday and Saturday, Spike would use his stealth and speed to jump onstage at just the right moment and recite a reply.

When she performed ‘Where has my father gone’, he answered with ‘A tribute to mothers’ that almost had her feeling like she’d been wrapped in the warmth of her mother’s arms again, or Jenny’s, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been talking about his two mothers or hers.

When she recited ‘Chocolate’ she thought than she had him fair and square. How was he going to respond that that one? He called her bluff with one of his own about chocolate sauce that had the whole place laughing and falling out of their seats over his double entendres.

When she broke out ‘Letter to my angels’, he replied with ‘And the angels replied’. ‘Lapis Lazuli’ had been complemented by ‘Gold’. And her tentative recitation of ‘Frozen’ had been tenderly answered by ‘The fire within’. Riley was right. They were having whole conversations, without anyone being the wiser. And if she cared to admit it, she was beginning to think that Riley’s plan was working.

This evening she’d read ‘Predator’, a darker piece she’d written about how much she’d wanted to do nothing more than just feel something, anything. She’d been locked away inside until everything seemed like a foreign world encased in ice. She’d worried a bit about how Spike would respond to that one. When he took the stage, she was prepared for his anger. What she got was ‘Conquered’, a highly metaphoric, yet sensual, exploration about trust and surrender that had left her, and more than a few others in the room, needing to adjust their clothing for better comfort.

She was almost out of compositions now. Only a few of the darkest ones were left. Ones she could never share in this kind, or any other kind, of venue. Come Saturday, she had nothing left to perform. But she did have something left to say. The question was… how was she going to say it.

The battle was raging fiercely. All around her ubervamps were charging in groups at all of the newly awakened slayers. For their part, they were kicking butt and taking names like they were born to do this. But then, they were, weren’t they? And there were losses. Cho-Ann had been drained in a flash. Amanda, Dawn’s friend, had gone down right in front of her; lifeless before she even hit the ground. Her neck had been snapped. And yet, they all fought on. Even when The First had taunted her using her own face, she’d still known they would win. Somehow. With that knowledge, and a good deal of slayer power and healing, she’d fought to her feet and jumped right back into the fray. If only that thing around Spike’s neck would do whatever it was supposed to……

“Oh Bollocks!” She caught, just above the din of the fight. And then a more urgent, “Buffy!”

“Spike!” She called, dispatching another ubervamp as she turned towards the stairs, where she had last seen Spike fighting. He appeared to be captivated in a strange beam of light, bright as the sun.

Suddenly, intense beams shot out from Spike’s chest in all directions. She stood watching in awe as the light arced around the cavern, disintegrating wide swaths of vampires as it went, reaching every nook and crevice of the cavers with deadly and comprehensive precision until it had dusted every single one of the ubervamps.

She ran to Spike’s side, concern on her face as she recalled Angel’s warning about the potential volatility of the amulet. It appeared warranted when the light failed to shut off once the vampires were dusted, and appeared to be no actively destroying the cavern entirely, is the tremors and crashing rocks were any indication.

“I can feel it.” His voice held an edge of amazement, drawing her attention back from the cavern to him.

“What?” She wondered.

“My soul.” He replied. “It’s really there…” He sounded like until that moment, he hadn’t been entirely sure. How could he have doubted? “It kinda stings,” He added. Was he in pain? Did it hurt, whatever this was? Despite the thought, she couldn’t help stare at him in awe at what he and his soul had done.

And then the cavern shook again. They were running out of time. The entire thing was going to collapse in on itself, and as extensive and deep as these caverns and the hellmouth went, who knows how much of the area would go with it. She vaguely heard slayers telling each other to get out, to head for the bus. Even Faith was screaming at them to run.

“Go on then.” Spike told her, as another violent shake sent earth and rocks crashing towards the hellmouth. Did he expect her to leave him there? Now? After all….

“No! No! You’ve done enough! You could still…” She pleaded before he cut her off.

“No! You’ve beaten them off; it’s for me to do the clean up!” He urged her to leave.

“Buffy, come on!” Faith screamed at her as another shake threated to throw her to the floor and then crush them all where they fell.

“Gotta move, lamb. Thinks it safe to say: school’s out for bloody summer!” Another tremor, and entire ledges and slabs of stone fell into the deepening crater below them.

“Spike!” She couldn’t manage more than that single pleading word of urgency.

“I mean it! I’ve gotta do this!” His voice and face broached no further argument as he seemed to steel himself against the power flowing through him.

All she could do was watch him, in all his glory, determined to face this through to the end. This vampire. This friend. This man.

And suddenly, she knew. She couldn’t let him go without telling him. She needed to tell him as much as he needed to know.

She placed her hand in his upheld one, interlacing her fingers with his. He resolve seemed to fade for a moment, as he first glanced at their hands and then at her. As if simply the gesture itself had already said the words. It was fitting then that their joined hands burst into flames. Even the light itself was acknowledging the event and what was passing between them. Sure, it hurt like hell. But wasn’t that love? Hadn’t he said that? That it burns and consumes?

And then he was looking at her that way. She’d seen that look before. His head slightly tilted, eyes drinking deeply, smallest bit of smile at the corner of his mouth, all with a look that said she was like she was food for the starving, water for the thirsty, and salvation for the dying. And she knew. She knew all over again in that very moment that she loved, was in love, with him. She met his eyes and looked deeply into them for a moment, and told him.

“I love you.’ She poured every bit of tenderness laced with conviction that she could into those three gentle words.

For a fraction of a second, she saw it. His acceptance. And then it was gone. Replaced by something else. Something she hadn’t been prepared for.

“No. You don’t. But thanks for saying it.” Thanks and denial. He though she didn’t mean it. That she’d told him out of pity for the dying man. And he was grateful for it. Oh, god…

And then the cavern shook so violently, it threw her backward, separating their hands even though she tried desperately to hold on.
“Now GO!” He commanded.

And she did.

She ran like the devil was chasing her. Her mind was racing a million miles a minute. Playing and replaying over and over the last few minutes. His glory. His conviction. His determination. His happiness. His love. His denial.

Once she stopped running, and but came to rest just beyond the edge of the crater. She climbed down and stared into the abyss that lay before her. He’d done it. He’d killed all the ubervamps, collapsed the hellmouth in on itself, and buried it under God knows how many feet of rubble. All thanks to the strength of his soul. That he’d gotten for her. So that he would never hurt her again. So that she would see him as something other than a monster. So that he would be loved.

And she had.

And he’d died, certain that she didn’t.

**********

She woke from the dream gasping for air, her sheets soaking with sweat and tangled around her in knots as if she’d fought them in her sleep and lost the battle. She hadn’t had a slayer dream in weeks. Not since that fateful day in her room when Riley confronted her and demanded to know the truth that was her crazy life.

This one had been intense. So, so, intense. It had all felt beyond real. Even now, she caught herself rubbing the right side of her abdomen where she’d been run through with a sword in the dream; making a mental note of a faint itch at the spot.

She disentangled herself from her bed and stood up. Then she started pacing. What did it mean? What was this dream trying to tell her? If she took it at face value, she was going to overcome the odds, but in the end Spike would be dead. Gone, like the others; another sacrifice on the Buffy alter. One last soul to appease the fickle gods so that she could finally be free.

But the dreams weren’t always face value. Slayer dreams were as much feeling and image as they were metaphor. They could be outright, but there was always subtlety as well. A hidden catch or larger lesson that spoke to more than just the obvious truth. They weren’t just ‘monster of the week’, they were life and all the little connections in between.

The larger lesson? She could do this. Things had always looked bad. She’d resented her life. Resented her calling; all of the callings. She hadn’t asked for any of them. She’d burnt out and become nothing more than shell, walking through life doing what she was supposed to and feeling nothing. But now, she felt like she was waking from a too long sleep. Head still feeling all big and stuffed with cotton. Dazed and slightly disoriented, but starting to get her bearings. She would come out of this. Wounded, having lost people she cared for, but alive and at peace, and ready to face the world and really actually move on with her life.

The nuance? That was the trickier part. There was the scythe. A tool that she’d used to overcome. Also a source of power that she shared with everyone would could receive it. One that could ultimately set them all free and tip the scales in their favor for the first time in, well, ever. The wound. Very nearly mortal. Even The First Evil had thought so. She’d almost let herself succumb to it. But she didn’t. She’d faced herself down and stood back up.

‘And she will rise.’

The words of Spike’s poem danced in her head.

And then there was Spike. The metaphor was strong with this one throughout the entire dream. The passionate fighting, throwing himself all in. The light, the soul, the determination to see it through to the end. The tenderness, the fire, the look… *his* look. His brief hope when she’d finally told him that she loved him. Her complete and utter certainty that she’d tried to pour into those three words, when she’d finally given him what he wanted and said ‘I love you.’ His sadness and certainty that she didn’t mean it. Leaving him behind to die alone, happy that he really and truly had a soul; his last thoughts and words confirming his status of being unloved, and yet still determined to save her while dying a hero’s death.

The metaphor was strong, but so was the surface. She would come out victorious on the other side of her life. But whether Spike went out in a blaze of glory at the end of his here’s journey, or completed his journey, wounded but alive and victorious, to start another journey with her once the battle was over, was up to her.

She couldn’t wait any longer. She’d have to tell him. But she couldn’t just come out and say the words. He would never believe it no matter how much she meant them. She would have to find the right words and say them the right way at the right time. Before there was no time left. And damn if she didn’t know what they were or how to say them. She glanced at the clock. She’d better figure it out pretty quick, because it was already Wednesday and on Saturday, she was going to make sure that Spike didn’t get left behind in a cavern, dying alone, and –in his mind- unloved.

She should be glad to have had the extra day from Tuesday to Saturday. Unfortunately, it hadn’t really helped her. She seemed to have writer’s block when it came to how she was going to tell him. With all of the other things she written, the feelings just seemed to take over her hand and words wrote themselves. She knew what she was feeling, so why wouldn’t the words write themselves? No matter how much she tried to make them come out, they just wouldn’t. Was it some sort of sign? Had her taken a clear dream and put her own spin on the meaning?

No, it was there. It just wasn’t coming out. What was she going to do? Riley would be there any minute to…

A quick knock as the door opened had Buffy cursing herself.

“Guess I asked for that,” She deadpanned.

Riley quickly cast a glance behind him to see if she was talking to or about something else.

“Sorry. Case of speak of the devil and he shall appear.”

“Um, I’m not quite sure how to take that?” Riley half smiled.

“Not personally? It’s not you, it’s me?”

That didn’t seem to make him look any happier.

“See! That’s my problem! I can’t say anything right! I’ve been working on this stupid thing since Tuesday and you know how many words I’ve got? Zero! That’s how many! Z-E-R-O, zero! No matter what I try, the words just don’t come out. And anything I do write, sounds like something off of Roger Rabbit.” Her initial gusto had deflated like a balloon until she visibly caved into herself in frustrated defeat.

“Maybe you’re just trying too hard?” Riley helpfully suggested. “I mean, the rest of it just kind of came on its own, right?”

“So, what, I’m just supposed to sit back and wait for my brain to figure out what to say?”

“Well… yeah.”

“No! No, no, no, no, no, and no! I can’t say ‘no’ strongly enough here.” Buffy started pacing back and forth across the narrow room. “I have to do this right! If I don’t say this just right, Spike is going to die again thinking that I didn’t love him.”

“Um, Buffy, am I missing something? When did Spike die?”

“Of course Spike died, he’s a vampire.” Buffy tossed out off-handedly. “But he died closing the hellmouth, and at the last minute I said it.. I told him I love him.” She was now looking squarely at Riley. “And he didn’t believe me! The stupid insufferable idiot said I don’t love him. How could he not believe me?!” She asked resuming her pacing.

“Buffy? Are you feeling ok?”

She paused to once again give him the look that asked if he’d gone insane at some point.

“No! I’m not feeling ok! In less than an hour I’m supposed to go on stage and tell Spike that I love him. The dream was pretty damn clear. If I don’t get this right, he won’t believe me. I’ll move on with my life and never see him again. And he’ll never know I meant it.”

“Dream?” Riley asked, looked slightly less confused.

“Yes, the Slayer dreams.” She waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“Slayer dreams?” He repeated her words.

“Yes! The Slayer…” she stopped mid-sentence. “Oh… I never… oh.”

“Are we talking like, the band Slayer?”

All she could do was stand there fish mouthed, trying to figure out a way to tell Riley the long, long, story of her secret life as a Slayer. In the end, she settled for direct.

“My whole life, I’ve had to battle monsters, and most of the time I lost. But in my dreams, I’m the Vampire Slayer, The Chosen One, the one girl in all the world with the strength and stamina to defeat the monsters. And I do.”

“Ok, that makes a sort of sense, as coping mechanisms go. But that doesn’t explain why you’re acting a little weirded out right now.”

“The dreams, Riley… they always have a meaning. It’s my brain trying to make sense of everything and showing me what I need to do, right?” She paused to see if he was following her. He appeared to be, so she proceeded. “I had a dream Wednesday morning, and in it I finally told Spike that I loved him. Only, I was too late. We were all about to die and he needed to know so I told him, and I meant it, I really did, but he didn’t believe me. And it means that if I don’t get this right and tell him now, then he won’t believe me.”

Riley looked to be processing everything she’d said. She hoped he understood.

“Wow. Um, ok, I’m really not sure how to respond to that.” Well, at least he was honest.

“Me neither, and that’s the problem!” Buffy flopped down in the chair again.

“Ok,” Riley said again. “Do you want to skip tonight? Try again Tuesday?”

“No,” She was sure of that much. She had to do it sooner rather than later. “I can’t let it be too late again.” She looked up at Riley, hoping to convey her urgency.

“So you do it tonight.” Riley knelt down in front her to, so that he was eye level with her.

“I can’t! I haven’t written anything!” That almost sounded dangerously close to a whine to her own ears.

“You will.” He seemed so confident.

“And if I don’t?” She hesitantly asked.

“You will.”

“How can you be sure?” How *could* he be so sure?

“Because it’s you,” He smiled. “Buffy, you are like no one else in the world. Your passion is like a fire that burns so bright it blinds. And yet, sometimes you are so certain about what you want to do, and you have that calm that makes everything else around you melt away. You can do this, Buffy.”

She smiled. In another time and another place, if she had been a different person, she could have loved him. In time, if she tried, they could have maybe even been happy. But she was who she was. This wasn’t their time. And he place wasn’t with him.

“I’m sorry,” The words slipped out, as her hand cupped his cheek.

His hand came up to press gently against her hand on his check, as hundreds of emotions played across his eyes. Finally, his other hand cupped the back of head, as he pulled her forward and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

“I know,” He replied. “Now, let’s go tell assface you love him.”

Chapter 39

She walked in behind Riley this time, more than happy to let him take the lead. In fact, maybe she would give him even more room and bigger lead. Yeah, that’s it. Take it nice and slow. Feel out the place a bit as she walked in.

“Buffy?” Riley’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Hmmm?” She looked at him. He was smiling in a way that made her think she was somehow amusing him.

“You’re blocking the door.” Ok, now he looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh at her.

She looked around, and noticed that she was in fact blocking the door and everyone was now looking at her expectantly.

“Sorry, I, um, thought I heard my car alarm,” she smiled apologetically at the growing group behind her and proceeded to quickly catch up to Riley.

“Your car alarm?” Ok, now he was starting to laugh. “You don’t even have a car, Buffy.”

“Oh, shut up, you. What was I supposed to say?” She took off her jacket and threw it over her shoulder. For some reason it seemed really hot inside the club tonight.

“Take it easy, Buffy.” Riley put an arm around her shoulders and started steering her toward a table in the back. “You’re just here to enjoy the evening and say a little poetry, no big deal.”

She shot him a withering glance, which instead made him smile even wider.

“What if he’s not here?” Panic suddenly gripped her.

“Buffy.”

“No! What if I get up there and by some miracle I find the right words, and he’s not even here to hear them?”

“Buffy.”

“I mean, this is like a once in a lifetime thing…”

“Buffy!”

“Oh God, what if I’m too late?”

“Buffy!”

“What if he’s already gone and he never knows I…”

Riley grabbed her head and pulled her to him, and planted a firm kiss on her lips that she hadn’t been expecting. It felt… odd. Not that he wasn’t a good kisser, Riley’s lips were pretty talented, but it just felt odd. Awkward even. Like a kiss that wasn’t meant to be a kiss. A kiss that didn’t want to be a kiss. His kisses had never felt like that. She opened her eyes and looked at Riley in confusion as he ended the kiss and pulled back just a bit and smiled. Wait, he was smiling?

“Sorry. You were rambling and I couldn’t get you to stop long enough to tell you that I saw the owner let him in through the back exit.” He was still smiling. She was still confused.

And then his words sank in. Oh, God. She turned around in her seat looking frantically for him, and for the first time since their little publicly broadcasted tete-a-tete had begun, he wasn’t hard to find. He was standing across the club, looking straight at her. His face held an expression she had never wanted to see again. One that was straight out of her dream.

”No. You don’t, but thanks for saying it.”

She turned back to Riley, horror written on her face.

“Do you know what you’ve done?”

She whipped back around to look for Spike, but he had vanished. She suddenly felt very much like she was drowning, like she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs because they weren’t working.

“No, no, no, no.” She looked back at Riley, only he was a little blurry now and… “Oh god… he’s gone… Riley, he’s gone. He thinks… He’ll never know…”
Hot angry tears came now, searing paths down her face that felt like they would leave scars there. Riley’s hands cupped her face and he looked deep into her eyes and said three very simple sounding words.

“Go… tell… him…”

As the words sank in, she finally understood them. And without a second thought, she took off. She pushed her way through the growing crowd like she was the Slayer after a vampire. She hit the door running, her senses suddenly keen and searching for their target. There! She willed an extra burst of speed into her legs as she saw him, his car just feet ahead of him.

“Spike!” She shouted for all she was worth.

He froze.

As she neared him, she slowed until she was just a few feet away from him, and then suddenly her legs refused to carry her any further. He was still facing away from her. Why hadn’t he turned around? Was she too late?

“Spike?”

Suddenly he whipped around, his coat flaring around his legs before settling around him like armor.

“Don’t!”

She wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected him to say, but that wasn’t it.

“Look, I don’t think I’m up for a round of ‘Kick the Spike’ right now, so why don’t you run back to Iowa in there and resume you’re snogging. I’ll just be on my way…” He finished as he turned back toward his car.

“Spike, wait!”

“Buffy, please, just… go.” Spike strained words floated over his shoulder toward her, and then he took another step… And another… And another… And one more…

It was now or never.
“Three little words”

He froze, hand outstretched, keys poised to slide into the lock.

”Three little words, that’s all they are,
But if you say them with the wrong person, place, or even time
They can split you open and flay your heart
With a sharpness and precision that rivals even the sharpest knife.”

“Buffy….” His voice was a whispered, tortured plea.

”Those three little words have started wars, launched ships,
Carried soldiers through battle and lovers through life.
They’ve inspired poets, made bold the weak, made weak the strong,
And sounded the beginning and ending of countless lives.”

He was looking at her now, and look of both pain and confusion, but also a tiny spark of hope.

”Three little words, carry the weight of the world,
With the power to give and take away the living part of life.
They hide from us, jump out at us, assault us, and wash over us,
Filling us with unending joy, or leave us bleeding salt from our eyes.
Three little words that can mean so many things,
And be said in so many ways, with each having a different meaning.
They can be accepted and rejected, heard but not felt, and felt but not heard.
And the harder I try to find the perfect way, the more I realize I’ve run out of time.”

Of their own free will, her feet began taking her closer to him.

”Because three little words are what you really need to hear,
But if I say them out loud, I can’t be sure you’ll believe
Because your heart will say ‘yes’, but they’re coming from me,
So your brain will say no, they’re just three little words filling out this rhyme.”

She stopped now, just a breath away from him, looking straight up into his eyes.

”But these three little words are coming from my heart and my mind,
And my soul, and my dreams, and hell, even the Slayer is begging you, please,
Hear these three words, and believe them inside, without any doubt,
That I mean every one of these three little words, and I always will for the rest of my life.

His face held a myriad of emotions. Awe, fear, wonder, fear… Was she too late? Had her words been enough to make him believe her this time?

She waited. He swallowed hard, and then cleared his throat as if he was going to say something important.

“Pet, you do realize you didn’t actually say…”

She grabbed his face and not too gently pulled it down to hers until they were nose to nose, locking eyes with him so there could be no doubt here.
“I. Love. You.” She enunciated each word as she said it, and then pulled him in and kissed him. This was no ordinary kiss. She poured every bit of fire and fear and love and need and her soul into this kiss. If lips can sink ships, then hers were going to launch one. She tried to tell him everything she needed to say and everything he needed to hear without actually saying a word. It was an apology, a plea, and a promise, all rolled into one. The question was, would he accept it?

A cacophony of cheers, mixed with whoops, whistles, and clapping interrupted her thoughts, bringing an abrupt end to the kiss. She felt her cheeks flaring red hot and wasn’t sure if it was due to the apparent audience they had, or the kiss itself. She was still clutching his face tightly, afraid that if she let go he might slip away from her again.

“When did we get an audience?” She whispered, resting her forehead against his.

“Guessing they followed us out.”

“Hey, William! Got a response?” Someone from the crowd called. Starting off a chant of, “William! William! William! William!” Until he finally put a hand up in the air, instantly silencing the crowd. He took hold of her shoulders, and pushed her gently, holding them apart, and then stared into her eyes for the longest time. It was a soul gaze, but not one that let her see into his own soul. So she let him. She opened her heart and mind, hoping that he would find what he was looking for, what she wanted him to find.

When the crowd started to get a bit restless, she saw the look in his eyes change, but she still couldn’t quite read it.

He took a deep breath to begin, and she knew that whatever he’d seen, it had made up his mind. And whatever he was about to say, was going to be her moment of fate.

Chapter 40 –

His hand was still held high, a sign to the gathered crowd that he was about to answer. He was still looking at something behind her, eye’s lock on it so intensely that she had to look and see what it was. She followed his gaze and quickly found the source of his attention standing right behind her… Riley.

She quickly looked back to Spike, and her mind flew back to the kiss in the bar when Riley tried to stop her anxiety fueled rambling. No. No, no, no, no... Didn’t he believe her? She saw his eyes flash from Riley to her and back twice, two sides obviously warring within him. She grabbed his face again, tried to force him to look into her eyes, and said it again, “Spike, I love you. Please tell me you believe me?”

He took her hands in his, stepped back a single step, bringing her hands down to his chest, but not letting go of them. His eyes held more questions than answers, and she was terrified of what he might say next. And then, she saw it…

No, you don’t, but thanks for saying it…

Oh, no. She’d waited too long. She’d said it all wrong, somehow. He was leaving her and he would never know she’d meant every word she’d said.

A moth to the flame, following instinct
Keeping the sun and moon in sight to fly straight,
Spun round and round by confusion, traveling in narrowing circles,
Until the torch it circles scorches and sends it spinning away,
Only to be drawn back to the fire once more.
A willing slave, this moth, to the flame,
Possessed to follow the sun that isn’t the sun,
But rather a flame that burns,
Traitorous wings carry it ever closer,
Until eventually the torch consumes and burns ‘til nothing’s left.
Is this the sun I see, or the flame?
Reaching out with tendrils of beauteous fire,
Seeking a companion to touch its beautiful face,
Can the flame love the moth? Or the moth the flame?
Or are they both just fools,
Too lost in the beautiful dance,
Of life giving heat and light,
to recognize the kiss of death upon them?
The flame will go on, but the moth, now reduced to ash,
For one brief moment beheld the flame...and died.

He dropped her hands. She could see a tears in his eyes briefly, before he turned to walk away. He stepped to his car, unlocked the door, and turned to slide inside. Before he did, he looked at her a moment, and spoke once more.

“Buffy?” She met his eyes. “Thanks for saying it.”

No, you don’t, but thanks for saying it.

He slid in his car and drove away. The crowd started to filter back toward the bar, as she stood there staring after his car as it departed. She would not cry. She wouldn’t let him see how much it was killing her inside that he was walking away. So she stood there. Standing like stone, until she could no longer see his lights.

And then the world faded to black.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Riley wasn’t sure what he thought was going to happen tonight, but as he stood there holding an unconscious Buffy, he was pretty sure this wasn’t it. What was he going to do now? Should he find Spike and tell him that the kiss he’d seen was nothing? Tell him Buffy was in love with him? Try to talk some sense into the guy? And why wasn’t she coming around? She’d been out for five minutes already. Was something wrong with her? Maybe he should get her checked out? Better safe than sorry? Or maybe she’d just had too much stress lately and he was over reacting…

Buffy stirred. Ah, ha! Over reacting! He mentally congratulated himself for not acting on his impulse. She seemed to be slowly clearing the fog as she looked up at him like she was a lost child, trying to find her mother.

“He’s gone, and it’s all my fault… again…” she whispered. He helped her stand up, and gave her assurances that nothing tonight was her fault; but, as he tried to steer her toward his car she only managed a couple of uncertain steps, wobbled again, and then slipped back into unconsciousness.

Ok, hospital it was.

As soon as he walked into the ER carrying Buffy, who still had yet to wake up, he was met with a cacophony of people shouting questions, and names. It was obvious everyone there knew who she was, and he was a little shocked and offended at some of the questions. They couldn’t seem to process that she’d simply fainted twice. He heard someone bark orders for a CT of the head, and the nurses were looking at him rather sternly, as if he was somehow responsible for her unconsciousness. He decided that taking a seat in the waiting room was probably the best course of action. After a while he thought he should maybe call her family, but then realize he had no way to contact anyone and he didn’t know where any of them lived. And he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to talk to Spike at the moment, because if anyone was responsible, it was him. So, he decided to wait, and see what the doctors found out. If it was simply too much stress, he’d feel like an idiot for alerting everyone.

Hours passed. Finally, a doctor wondered into the waiting room and asked him what his relationship to Buffy was? He wasn’t sure how to answer that, but figured ‘Boyfriend’ was as good as any, so that’s what he told him. The doctor asked if he was aware of Ms. Summer’s medical history, which he responded with, “Not really.” The doctor nodded at that. He asked if they had been together very long? The line of questioning was beginning to concern him.

“Is something wrong with Buffy?” He asked, wondering what this doctor was trying to get out of him.

“No, no, nothing like that. She is a bit dehydrated, but she’s awake now and answering questions. She seems to confirm your story that she fainted and I can’t seem to find any indications that something else other than what you say occurred, but with Buffy we always like to be extra thorough to make sure nothing was overlooked. There were some other findings that I’ve discussed with her, so we are going to keep her overnight for observation, but barring any complications she should be able to go home tomorrow morning. Is she living with you?”

“No, she has her own apartment.”

“She probably shouldn’t be alone for the next few days, just to make sure she’s safe and doesn’t have any more episodes,” the doctor instructed.

“But, you’re sure there’s nothing wrong?” He asked again.

“Son, may I ask you a question?” The doctor glanced over his glasses.

“Sure.”

“What are your intentions with Ms. Summers?”

“No offense, doctor, but I don’t really think that’s any of your business.”

“None taken. If I seem a bit forward, it is because we here at this hospital have had the unfortunate pleasure of getting to know Ms. Summers quite well during in her young life thus far. We know all of her family and friends by name. So, when a strange young man with a recently broken nose and a knee splint carries her in here unconscious, and none of her family or friends are here, and I don’t see any damaged chairs or equipment caused by a certain young man with anger control issues, and you don’t know much of anything about her, we have to err on the side of caution and do what is in her best interest.”

“I assure you, I have nothing but respect for Buffy.”

“Good. Then I suggest you have a long and honest discussion with Ms. Summers. You can see her now. She’s a bit weak, but otherwise physically healthy, and just in need of some fluids and perhaps a few more calories. But she shouldn’t be alone right now. Anything more, you’ll need to discuss with her.”

Ok, that wasn’t cryptic at all. Anything more? What they heck did that mean? He pushed open the door the doctor had indicated was Buffy’s room and walked inside. Buffy was laying in the hospital bed, looking a bit pale and her tiny form was swallowed by the bed, giving her an almost fragile appearance. She looked over at him, and her eyes pleaded forgiveness.

“Buffy?” He wasn’t sure what she was wanting him to forgive her for.

“I’m sorry,” was all she said.

“Buffy, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Riley, I think you should sit down,” She said with a quiet calm that was disconcerting.

“OK, sitting down. Buffy, what’s going on? Why did the doctor say I needed to talk to you?”

“Riley, I’m pregnant.”

Whoa. Ok. Not what he’d been expecting to hear at all. They’d always been careful and never done anything unprotected.

“But, we were…”

“Careful? Yeah. But, careful didn’t prevent,” She heaved a trembling sigh, “Didn’t prevent Michael and Gabriel.”

“How far?”

“They think about eight to ten weeks.”

Eight to ten weeks. Not long after they started seriously dating. Right around the time that she’d broken his nose. And if that didn’t give him a sinking feeling. He really needed to talk to Spike. How exactly does one go about asking a man if he slept with the girl you love while she was dating you? Guess he was going to find out. But for now…

“Buffy, no matter what happens, I want you to know…”

“Riley, don’t…”

“I love you. No matter what.”

“I’m sorry,” Was all she said in return.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next couple of days had been carried out in relative silence. Buffy seemed closed off more than ever. He’d gotten her back to the hotel, and sat with her. He got her bottled water and tried to coax her into eating some food occasionally. He’d contemplated what their future might hold. Could she be happy with him? He’d always wanted a family, he just didn’t think it would be this soon. But he could definitely be happy with her. If she’d let him in. He was beginning to understand what Spike had meant when he’d said he thought Buffy had died with Angel. He was beginning to think maybe she’d died in that parking lot at the bar. Could he bring her back to life?

He wasn’t sure, but there was one person who had more experience trying. He needed to talk to Spike.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Spike was sitting on the hood of his car, smoking a cigarette, when Riley found him. He took a deep breath, walked up and stood in front of him, and prepared to ask him how to help Buffy.

“Did you sleep with her?”

Ok, so he was going to get around to asking him how to help her, eventually. He needed to know and he wasn’t about to ask Buffy in her current state.

“Don’t see that it’s any of your business, mate,” Spike answered him coolly, but he noticed a slight tick in the muscle of Spikes jaw.

“When you took her back to the hotel after she broke my nose. Did you have sex with her?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Spike answered, standing up and snuffing out his cigarette. “Got better things to do.” He said as he walked around and started to get into his car.

“She passed out, you know. After you left.” Riley said, walking around to the side of the car. He noticed Spike paused a moment, but only just. Spike was fiddling with his keys now, looking for the right one to start his car.

“Had to take her to the hospital.” Another pause, then keys slid into the ignition.

“Good thing she has you to take care of her then.” He started the car.

“She’s pregnant.” The car idled while Spike eyed him with cold hatred.

“Mozel tov,” Spike pulled the gear shift into reverse. “Bit of advice,” Spike slammed the shifter back into park, pulled out his wallet and thumbed through it. Then held out a condom to him. “Learn how to use it.”

“I did. Every time.” He replied. That earned him a dubious glare.

“What’re you trying to say?”

“She’s eight to ten weeks. That’s about the time you were at the hotel with her. Did you have sex with her?”

He watched as several thoughts seemed to play across Spike’s face. Suspicion? Confusion? Maybe he was wrong. Buffy hadn’t said yes when he’d asked her several weeks ago, but she hadn’t exactly said no, either, when he had pressed her about her relationship with Spike. Then he noticed Spike rest his head back on the seat of his car, his eyes closed as he seemed to be warring with himself over something, and Riley knew.

He didn’t mean to do it. It just sort of happened. His right hand shot out and punched Spike hard in the jaw.

To his credit, Spike took it in stride. He turn the car off, opened the door, and stepped out in exceedingly calm fashion. But Riley could tell that every fiber of Spike’s being was coiled tight and ready to spring.

“I’ll give you that one. But try that again, and you won’t live to regret it.” Riley was a big guy, but somehow, he didn’t doubt that Spike could make good on his threat if he pushed him far enough.

Riley held up the condom Spike had given him.

“How long has this been in your wallet, Spike? Or do you usually have more than one?”

Spike squinted at him a moment, as if deciding how to answer that question. Then something seemed to just flip. All the tension seemed to drain from him and he hung his head in resignation.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree here, you don’t know what happened.”

“So why don’t you fill me in? In general terms.”

“One minute we were fighting, and next thing I know she... Always dreamed of the moment when I’d…but when she… I never wanted it… Not like that… Couldn’t let either of us finish what she started. Wouldn’t have been right… Not like that.”

Riley didn’t know if he felt better or worse knowing what happened. He knew exactly what Spike was talking about. The problem was, that still didn’t preclude the possibility.
“You do know that just because you stopped, doesn’t mean that it can’t be yours.”

“’M not an imbecile. But it doesn’t exactly place the odds in my favor.” Spike’s retort held only a small bit of snarkiness to it.

“Would you say those odds are higher or lower than mine since I used one of these every time?” Riley asked, once again holding up the condom.

“What exactly are you playing at, here? Seems to me you’d be happy to have a sprog or two with Buffy. Little white picket fence back in Iowa somewhere?” Spike’s deflection caught him off guard.

“Honestly? Yes! I’d love to! She’s an amazing woman; and when I’m with her, it’s like the whole world just melts away… But she doesn’t love me.”

“Could have fooled me,” Spike bit back.

“Were you always this thick, or did you have to work really hard at it?” Riley asked him. “She finally tells you what you’ve been waiting to hear, and you shoot her down. I don’t know what it is you’re afraid of, exactly, but you need to figure it out.”

Spike seemed to be contemplating that, but didn’t offer a response.

“You said once that you thought she died in that accident.” Spike nodded. “I’m not sure she didn’t die in the parking lot when you drove away.”

Spike’s eyes squeezed shut, and his breath caught.

“So how do we bring her back to life?” Riley asked.

“I don’t know! If I did, do you think I’d be standing here like some useless sod, talking to you?” Spike’s anger started edging up. That was good.

“Fair enough,” Riley answered. “But we need to figure it out sooner rather than later. Because in a few months, one of us is going to be a dad.”

Spike nodded his head, but said nothing. He was leaning against his car, seemingly turning things over in his mind. Spike huffed out a breath, ran his hands through his hair. He looked at his watch, then ran his hands over his head again.

“Need to go. Need to get my head clear.” He abruptly got back in his car and turned it on, and backed out of his spot.

Riley put his hand through the window onto Spike shoulder, making sure he had his attention.

“Talk to her, Spike.”

He gave a short nod, and drove off.

Chapter 41

He drove for what seemed like hours. His mind racing faster than his car, and yet never settling on any one thing. He was hoping the drive would let him get everything out of his head. Stop thinking for a bit and surrender to the mindless task of keeping his car between the lines. He drove and drove until the car stopped, and he found himself sitting outside of Buffy’s hotel room, staring at her door. It was now or never.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The knock at the door was soft and unexpected. She didn’t anticipate anyone coming by tonight. She peered through the peep hole in the door, and instantly recognized the shock of white hair standing in front of it. His head was down, hands in his pockets, like a child caught coming home too late and having to knock because the door was bolted. She leaned her forehead against the door, contemplating if she was going to open it.

“Know you’re there, pet,” his soft timbre reverberated through the door.

She stepped back, and opened the door, giving him a silent invitation to come in. He accepted it, and walked into the middle of her room. She took her time closing the door before she turned to face him.

“Buffy, we need to…”
“Spike, I need to…”

They both began at the same time.

“Ladies first,” Spike deferred to her, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Ok. Um. I just… I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About everything. How I’ve treated you. How you’ve always been there for me. How I can tell you almost anything, except what you needed me to say. What you said the other night. And you were right. I’m sorry… and I… I understand. Why you said what you did. I… understand…” she trailed off.

He wasn’t looking at her. Which was not like Spike at all. Usually he was all about looking people in the eye, it was one of the things that made Spike, Spike. So why wasn’t he looking at her?

“Suppose you’re a step ahead of me then. Not sure I understand myself what I said or why I said it.” He still wasn’t looking at her. “What does that mean?” He finally looked up, and she could read the confusion as clear as words written on paper.

“Does it have to mean something?” She asked.

“Suppose not.” He left the answer handing there, and for a long time, neither of them spoke. But he wasn’t looking at her anymore, either.

“You, uh, wanted to say something?” She broke the silence.

“Don’t know where to start.” He briefly looked up at her, and then she saw his eyes slide down, looking at her stomach, before looking down again.

He knew. Of course he knew. It was Spike.

“Riley told you?” She already knew the answer, but his nod confirmed it. What had Riley been thinking? Didn’t he know how much this would hurt Spike? Was that the point? Hurt Spike like he’d hurt her?

“What are your, uh, intentions?” He asked.

Like she knew? At the moment she was just trying to get through each day. But for some reason, that question was making her really angry. He’d left her, in the parking lot, and now he was questioning her about what she planned to do?

“Not really any of your business anymore, is it?” She hadn’t meant to put so much venom behind it.

“Might be.” And now he was looking her square in the eyes. What the hell did that mean?

“What I do is none of your concern anymore. You left. Remember?”

“I didn’t know you were… I didn’t know.”

“Neither did I! Why should that even matter?”

“Because it might be mine!” The words exploded from his lips unchecked, and he let them hang for a moment before adding, “Or did you forget?” His eyes were practically boring into her sole now, in that way that only he could do.

“What are you talking about, we never…” Images and memories flashed before her eyes. The day she’d hurt Riley when he snuck up on her, and Spike brought her home. They’d fought and then she’d… “Oh… Oh, God,” she returned Spike’s look, with her own shocked one. “But, you didn’t… I mean, I, uh… that is we, uh... we didn’t… Oh, God.” She started pacing back and forth.

“Doesn’t make it impossible, just improbable.”

“Exactly!” She stopped and pointed at him for emphasis. “Improbable!”

“But not as improbable as Cardboard being wrapped in plastic every time.” He gave her a pointed look.

Buffy slumped down in the chair at the desk, and put her head in her hands.

“Could my life get any more complicated?” She mumbled.

“Don’t think it’s wise to tempt fate, pet.”

That elicited a small laugh. Fate certainly did seem to love answering her questions, and not in a good way.

“So… What are you planning to do?” He asked again.

“Honestly?” She looked up at him. He was watching her intently now. “I haven’t even thought about it. Right now, I’m just getting through each day and hoping I’ll wake up and this will all have been some really strange, bad dream.”

He seemed to take that in, and nodded his understanding.

“I uh. I guess I should go.”

That was unexpected.

“Yeah. I guess you should… go.”

He stood up, and headed for the door.

“Buffy?” She turned around to face him. “If you need anything?”

“I’ll, um, let you know.”

He nodded, and left.

She sunk back down in the chair and wondered how in the heck she was going to tell Riley.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………

As it turned out, Riley already knew. She’d planned this big speech in her head for a week and had just started into it, when he interrupted her and asked her why she thought he told Spike in the first place? He’d seemed a little upset when she told him she thought he’d done it to rub it in Spike’s face. Not that he could blame her. The thought did cross his mind initially.

“What am I going to do, Riley?” She asked

“You’ll get through this, Buffy. You’re strong. Probably the strongest person I’ve ever known. I can’t tell you the future. But I can tell you that you’ll figure it out.” She gave him a bit of a watery smile.

“Now, let’s go get you some food. Pretty sure you need to eat something other than ramen,” He said, as he stood and took her hand to lead her to the car.

“Give me a minute, ok? Need to attend to nature first.” He let her go and watched her head to the bathroom

He was standing at the door when Buffy’s shaky voice came to him moments later.

“Riley, can you take me to the hospital?”

He turned to her trembling, and frightened face. He didn’t think, just acted. He scooped her up and took her to the car and got her to Memorial in record time.

Chapter 42

“Spiiiiiike! It’s for you! Some guy named Riley,” Dawn screamed across the house.

“Bit, anyone ever tell you that you could have a future as a scream queen?”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Dawn rolled her eyes and held out the phone to him.

“’lo?”

“Do we know a Riley?” Dawn asked Giles as he walked further into the living room.

“Can’t say I know the name. Did he say where he was calling from?”

“Wait, wait, wait… we DO know a Riley! Well, Spike does anyway. He’s…”

William dropped the phone and made a beeline for the door without so much as saying goodbye to them.

Giles could hear someone on the other end of the line calling out, “hello?”

“Yes, hello?... This is Rupert Giles, who am I speaking to?... His father, yes… Mmmhhmmm… Memorial?...Yes, of course. I’ll make sure he gets there. Thank you.”

Giles hung up the phone, issued orders to Dawn to stay in the house, and ran out the front door, hoping to catch his son. He was more than a little shocked to see him sitting in his car, keys in hand and ready to turn the ignition, but seemingly frozen, his forehead resting on the top of the steering wheel. Ordinarily, he’d have considered himself lucky to still see William’s tail lights, so he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that he was still sitting in the driveway. Then again, William had been acting rather oddly the last week. Nothing overly obvious, just subtle differences. Like being far less meticulous about his hair, and he’d seemed distracted, off in his own world much of the time, even though he’d been spending even more time than usual with Michael. Something was definitely off with his son, he just wish he knew what it was.

“Move over,” He said, pushing back on William’s shoulder indicating for him to sit up. “I’ll not have you driving in his condition.” The look on his son’s face perplexed him even more. He seemed conflicted, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to argue or not. Giles opened the car door and gave him another shove, then slid in as William slid over. He hadn’t driven William’s car in quite some time, but had to admit the roar of the old engine held an allure. The feel of the raw power gave him a sense of control, master of fate, when in reality he was simply driving.

“Is it Buffy?” He asked, as the old car flew down the highway.

“Need to ask?” Was the only reply he got.

“Not really, no.” The rest of the drive was in silence. He’d no sooner pulled into a parking spot, than William was already out of the car and running. He watched a moment as William stopped just before the doors however, as if something was preventing him from entering. Curiouser and curiouser. After a few moments, William resumed his trajectory through the doors. Giles felt very old just then. Too many visits to this place. Too many bad memories. And if his son’s behavior were any indication, they were about to add another one to the list.

He walked into the ER to see William and a taller young man arguing. That is, if their gesticulations were any indication, as they seemed to be quite guarded in the volume of their conversation.

“Rupert?” He turned to greet the familiar face of Dr. Stanford, the affable physician who had been in charge of the Sunnydale Memorial ER for as long as they had been coming to these impromptu visits. “Wish I could say I was glad to see you.”

“Indeed, I’d hoped I wouldn’t be seeing you again anytime soon.” He replied as they shook hands. “How is she?”

“As well as can be expected,” the doctor responded. “She’s stable. Dr. Edison is in there seeing her now. I have to say, when young Mr. Finn there brought her in several days ago, and none of you were filling up my waiting room, I was a bit concerned. Wasn’t too sure what to think. But… when he brought her in here tonight, he seemed genuinely concerned. Then when he asked if we had information to contact you… well, I think maybe I misjudged the fellow. He’s been standing outside her door since he got off the phone. Kind of reminds me of someone else who used to do that.”

Giles took note that another doctor had now come out of Buffy’s room and was talking to William and whom he could only assume was “young Mr. Finn.” If he didn’t look too closely, he could certainly imagine it was Angel and William. Angel being the stoic guardian and William practically vibrating with pent up energy ready to explode.

“Since I don’t see an orderly hauling anything broken to the bin, I take it you and William just got here?”

“Yes, quite. Came as soon as we got the call. So, what exactly happened?” He asked the good doctor.

Dr. Stanford seemed to size him up for a moment, then gave a sideways nod toward the two young men standing in the hall talking to the other doctor. “I suggest you talk to them.”

“I do believe I will.” He replied. Dr. Stanford gave him a pat on the shoulder and a parting word, “Take it easy on ‘em, Rupert, they have their reason’s to be worried,” and then left.

He studied the young men a moment as the other doctor disappeared down the hallway toward the nurses station. It was like going back in time, with a tall, dark, muscular young man staring in the window, and William pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. It felt a bit like history was repeating itself in an endless loop. He saw the moment William’s demeanor changed, and knew instantly what was coming. He managed to reach him just as William hefted up the chair. He grabbed his arm in a vice like grip, stopping him from destroying yet another defenseless piece of furniture.

“William,” Was all he said. His son seemed to shake off some of his frustration and with painfully slow and deliberate moves put the chair back down. Only then did he release his arm.

“And you are?” He turned and asked the young man that bore a striking physical resemblance to Angel.

“Finn, sir, Riley Finn.” The young man offered his hand to him and he took it. At least the boy had manners.

“Rupert Giles,” he introduced himself. “Now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, I suggest that you and William tell me exactly what’s going on, and why I am standing, yet again, in Sunnydale Memorial hospital waiting to hear news of what’s going on with the young woman I’ve come to think of as a daughter, but for some reason I’ve been told to ask you two instead?”

He noticed Riley and William give each other what could only be a knowing look, but neither of them started talking. He’d really had enough if this. He dropped all pretense of civility and grabbed both of them by the shirt front, then pushed them both against the wall. Hard. He gave them a slight shake, for good measure.

“Someone better start talking, or so help me…”

“She’s pregnant,” Both of them answered at once.

He released them both. Well. That was assuredly not what he’d been expecting to hear. Not so soon after her fateful gestation, or the events revealing it. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then began cleaning the glasses as he asked the next question.

“And who is the father?” He held his breath and steeled himself for the subsequent answer.

“He is,” They both replied. Feet shuffled a bit as each of the young men stared at the floor, while Giles put his glasses back on. “We’re not, exactly, sure,” Riley finally answered.

“I see.” What else could he say?

“And how far along is she?”

“Ten to twelve weeks,” William answered.

He nodded, processing this new turn of events.

“And we are here because?”

“She’s having… complications,” Riley supplied rather hesitantly. “I thought Spike should know since...” He trailed off a few moments before finally finishing, “I thought he should know.”

Giles pulled his glasses off again, pinching the bridge of his nose against the headache starting to build.

“Have you both completely lost your minds? Riley, I can’t speak for you; but, William, I taught you better than this. Buffy is a vulnerable, traumatized, young woman. For either of you to take advantage of that is beyond reprehensible…”

“Christ, what is it with you people? She… used… me! Not the other way ‘round.”

“I’m sure you were complaining the whole time, right?”

“You know what…”

“Both of you, stop!” Giles held up a hand to silence them.

“In my defense, I didn’t know 12 weeks ago, what I know now.” Riley threw out there, before being silenced by a glare from Giles.

“What did the doctor say?”

“He said right now, it’s a threatened miscarriage. Half will go on, half won’t. We should know in the next several days, maybe weeks, which half this is,” Riley explained.

“Is there anything to be done?”

“Said the only thing’s to rest and wait,” William answered, starting to sound quite weary.

“Are they releasing her?”

“Yes. They just have to finish some paperwork,” Riley answered.

“I presume she will return to her room at the hotel?”

“It’s what she wants.” Riley answered once again.

“Will you both be staying with her?”

“We can split…”

“No.” William’s resolute voice interrupted.

That caught him off guard. He’d expected William to supply him with a litany of reasons why he couldn’t leave Buffy’s side. If the look on Riley’s face were any indication, he’d also been expecting a different answer from William. And judging by William’s expression, it appeared even he was shocked by his own answer.

“I can’t,” William met his gaze and all he could see was pain and confusion. “I just… can’t. Not again.” His son turned and abruptly walked down the hall and out the doors.

Once William had vanished from sight, Riley spun and put his fist into the wall. It would seem this young man had more in common with his son’s than he thought.

“Feel better?” He asked.

“Not really,” Riley answered, pulling his now bloody hand out of the wall and trying to flex his fingers.

“Let’s take you to see Matilda and get some ice on that.” He started walking toward the nurses station. “You’ll thank me later,” he added.

As they sat in the lobby, Riley’s hand wrapped in a towel and a large ice pack, a comfortable silence settled in. Giles knew he should go check on the whereabouts of his son, but if William didn’t want to be found, it would be a pointless endeavor. At least now he had some context to William’s odd behavior of late. It still didn’t quite add up, he would have thought William would be elated at the prospect of a child with Buffy. Then again, if he genuinely thought Riley to be the father… well, he’d not exactly reacted well when Angel had been the father, either.

“I was so close,” Riley’s thought broke the silence. “I really thought they would… Now, it just feels like they’re hurtling toward the ending of Romeo and Juliet, and no matter what I try, the ending will stay the same.”

“Oh? How’s that?” That seemed like a strange turn of phrase for a young man he had presumed was in love with Buffy given the possibility that he was the father of Buffy’s child.

“They need each other. Like they need air. But all these…things…get in the way,” Riley answered.

“Am I to understand, you actually want Buffy and William together?”

“Want?” Riley laughed out. “Hell no!” He paused a moment. “Do they need to be together? As much as they need to breathe. More, maybe.”

Giles sat back in his chair and contemplated the young man before him. He wasn’t sure what to think of him, but if anything, he felt a bit of sorrow for the young man. He could have liked him in another time or place.

“So, William’s really his name?” Riley seemed to ponder out loud. “Knew it had to be some kind of Billy Idol, bad boy act. Couldn’t imagine some kid’s parents naming him after the dog.”

Yes, he definitely could have liked the young man.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..


Days passed. Each evening, Riley would call and tell Giles that there was no change. Each day, William completely avoided talking about Buffy at all. Each day, William’s appearance and behavior deteriorated more and more. If anyone even mentioned her name, William would simply walk out the door and not return for hours. He’d come home covered in cuts and bruises from an obvious fight. He’d let his bleached hair grow out into a disheveled mess of curls and dark roots with bleached tips. Not altogether unflattering, but highly unusual for William to be so unkempt. He had a sneaking suspicion that his son was trying to disengage himself from Buffy. Had his son come so close to having his heart’s desire, that this new fear was more than he could face? Was he preparing to recreate himself again, without her in the equation?

But, it didn’t seem to add up. Even when she was pregnant with Michael and Gabriel, William’s primary concern had been for Buffy. Was this new, more personal, focus a step too far for even William to contemplate a potential loss? No. They’d all come so close to losing Buffy so many times, and each time it was William who had been the one to charge through the doubt and fear to reach her. He’d always kept faith that she’d make it through anything. So why now? Even if the child were lost, Buffy would recover. Indeed, as long as she made it through whatever fate handed her, he knew William would always be there to support her through anything. As he further contemplated William’s odd behavior and his perpetually knit brow, this last thought brought a terrible dawning of realization to him. He had a feeling that something more was quite amiss and that William may be the only person aware of it.

“Son, might I have a word with you?” Giles asked. Dawn, always the clever girl, took that as her cue to retrieve Michael from his high chair and retreat elsewhere. William put his fork down and looked at him pointedly.

“I have a choice?” He asked without looking up.

“No.” He gave William a slightly apologetic smile, though William never looked up to see it.

“Know what you’re going to say. Save it.” William told him, as he picked his fork up again and stabbed rather roughly at his breakfast.

“Why have you given up?” He watched as his son froze mid bite, then put his fork back down.

“Since we moved here you’ve never given up on Buffy. You always knew she would come through, even when the rest of us had abandoned all hope. Until now. Why?”

William seemed to think about the question for a moment. As if unsure exactly how to answer.

“Don’t know,” He sighed. “I can’t…Just know it’s all slipping away. Can feel it. Everything slipping away…And I can’t… can’t be there… Don’t think I could… Don’t know…Alright? I don’t…know.”

Giles was now fully alert. Had William been so disconnecting himself that he’d chosen to ignore his intuition? If Jenny had taught him anything, it was that some people were more observant, more perceptive, more receptive, and could put those subtle pieces together in ways that made the rest of them look like idiot children. William was one of those people.

“Why do you feel like she’s slipping away?”

“Don’t know. Just… know it’s coming. Soon. And I can’t...Not again.”

Blast! William had already integrated the change of preposition from it to her.

‘Specially when I’m the one who…”

William was staring off into space now. He didn’t like this turn of events. Had William done something? Did he know something the rest of them didn’t?

“The one who what?”

“’S mine, you know? Knew it as soon as he said how far along she was.”

“William?”

“Was the best and worst moment of my life. It’s all my fault. If I’d just left her there that day. Let her go…”

Blast and damnation! Now it all made bloody sense. How could he have missed it? He’d been an‘idiot child’ indeed to miss that William was unconsciously mourning Buffy and her child.

“William? You said it was coming soon. How soon?”

William just shook his head.

“Don’t know…‘s just all…fading.” He was still staring off into space, his brow even more knit than it had been the last few weeks.

Bloody hell… This wasn’t good. Last time William had a feeling this strong...

“William?”

No answer.

“Spike!” The shout of his chosen name got his son’s attention. It always did. He was standing at the back door holding his son’s coat out to him.

“We going somewhere?” William asked, clearly confused.

“Yes. I just hope we’re not too late.”

He’d abruptly shoved a reluctant William into the car and taken off with haste. The closer they got to Buffy’s place, the more agitated William seemed to get. Thankfully, Buffy’s hotel was the next stop. As he pulled into the parking lot, he as much felt as saw the change in William’s demeanor. The nervousness seemed to dissipate as a quiet alertness settled over him. He pulled into the spot in front of Buffy’s door. William sat as still as stone for long moment, eyeing the hotel door. Then got out and walked up to it in agonizingly slow steps. He followed, hoping his deduction had been wrong. Before he’d met Jenny, he’d thought only simpletons believed in such nonsense; but, over the years he’d come to understand that there were assuredly people in this world who could perceive things on a level that others could not. William had perceived something, whether he knew it or not. He just hoped that he’d misread what it was William had perceived.

William knocked hesitantly, but no answer came from within. After a few terse seconds, William reached out as if to try the knob but froze just short of it, as if he was afraid to do so. Giles managed to find an opening in the curtain wide enough to afford him a narrow view of the interior, and could just make out a delicate looking foot with pink toenails lying motionless on the floor.

“Kick it in. Now.”

William paused only a moment before something seemed to shift inside him. Then he stood back a step, obliging him with a forceful kick that sent the door and frame splintering apart. They’d been wholly unprepared to face what they found inside. Giles immediately grabbed the phone and dialed 911. He quickly answered their questions and then set the receiver down on the desk as the pesky twit kept trying to ask him more and more questions.

He turned back to his son and Buffy. They were too late. So much blood. She had obviously tried to reach the phone. A few more feet and she would have. He watched as William silently cradled Buffy’s limp body to him, gently rocking back and forth. He cursed every god that ever toyed with their fates, bringing Buffy into their lives, only to tear those lives from them just as surely as they’d torn her own life from her.

Within moments, paramedics came running in. Taking in the scene, with grave looks and graver demeanor, they set about trying to check Buffy for any signs of life, but William wasn’t having any of it. He kept holding her, like a child terrified of the dark, clutching onto a favorite stuffed toy or blanket. The paramedics were urgently trying to convince him to let them take her so they could try to resuscitate her, but he wouldn’t even acknowledge their requests.

He knew the pain his son felt. Felt it rising up again inside him after so many years, as memories surfaced of holding his own wife, William’s mother, as she slipped away; silently pleading for her to stay with him just one more moment, one more day. Even now he remembered how his arms ached after he finally let them take her body away.

“William...? Spike...? Son…?” He placed one hand on his son’s shoulder, and the other on one of his hands holding Buffy. “They need to see to her, Spike. It’s time to let her go. You need to let them take her.”

William seemed to stare completely through him for a moment, but finally seemed to register the words. He nodded silently and stood up, Buffy still in his arms, and placed her on the gurney as carefully as one would put a sleeping child to bed. As he pulled his arm from under her head, the smallest noise escaped from her, and then an small agonal gasp. William backed away and stared, dumbfounded, as the paramedics sprang to renewed life.

“Holy….”
“I’ve got a heartbeat!” One called.
“I’ll be damned…”
“Let’s see if we can get a couple lines in her.”
“Load her up. We’re runnin’ hot!”

“Hope you fellows believe in miracles,” The first paramedic called as he shut the ambulance doors. “You just witnessed one.”

Chapter Forty Two –

Riley arrived at the ER just in time to see Spike pick up the metal trash can next to the door and throw it 30 feet, sending out a primal scream with it. He spotted Giles standing calmly nearby, as if this was something that happened every day. He slowed his pace, and edged around Spike as he continued to pound or throw anything that wasn’t apparently bolted down or fighting back.

“Is she…?” The word died in his throat before he could get it out.

“They’re working on her now.”
That was a relief. That meant there was a chance she’d be ok. Giles had called and given him the gist of what had happened, so when he’d seen a really weird looking Spike throwing things, he’d assumed the worst. Speaking off weird looking…

“What’s up with Spike’s hair?”

Just as Giles was about to answer him, a perky red head bounced out the doors and straight up to Giles.

“Here you go, one coffee, sans yummy goodness. I also brought Spike some coffee, for when he finally runs out of steam. Oh, hey, Riley! Want some?” She held up a styrofoam cup, “I can get more. Looks like Spike may be at it a little longer.”

“Do I know you?” He thought that maybe he did, but wasn’t too sure.

“I’m in the dual credit class with Dr. Walsh. So, coffee? Yes or no?” She help up the cup in her hand once again.

“No. But, thanks.”

“Hey, Riley,” A young girl with dark hair came walking up behind him, holding a small child with equally dark, but wavy, hair.

“Uh, do I know you?” He asked.

“Nope. But I’ve read aaaalllllllll about you. I can see why he thinks you look like Angel. I think you’re actually a little taller, though. Here, hold Michael for a sec? Thanks!” The girl said, shoving 20 pounds of squirming, frowning, toddler into his hands, then shifted a large bag around to her front and started digging through it.

“Let’s see… Spike’s nasty cigarettes he thinks is hidden,” She handed the half crushed pack to Giles, who set it on the picnic table that was chained to a column next to him. “Thermos of Earl Gray,” She handed that to Giles as well. “Lunch box full of sandwiches, including an avocado, lettuce, and tomato for you, Willow. Oh, and I didn’t know what Tara wanted, so I packed the same,” She held out the lunch box to the red head.

“Perfect. Thanks Dawn!” Willow took the lunch box eagerly.

“Did you pack anything with meat?” A dark haired guy surfaced from the same direction the girl had come from.

“Xander, I told you three times already that I packed you a roast beef. Oh!” The girl turned towards Giles again, and held up the bag. “And obviously I brought Spike’s go bag like you asked.”

“You people realize this isn’t normal, right?” Riley asked, looking around at everyone.

“Depends on your point of view.” The guy, Xander, answered. “When you’re Buffy adjacent, we call this Tuesday. You’ll get used to it.”

Riley looked over to Giles, who had the grace to swallow the smile that he’d been wearing.

“Alright, now. Willow, why don’t you go see if they have an update. Take Xander and Dawn with you. And Michael, if you will?” Xander promptly grabbed the boy from him, and set off inside with the others.

“Michael? As in, Buffy’s son, Michael?” He asked. He didn’t really think the boy looked like Buffy much at all.

“You’re aware Buffy has a son?” Giles asked, looking surprised.

“I’ve learned a lot of things in the last 3 months. He doesn’t look much like her.”

“No. He quite favors his father,” Giles offered.

“So, who are all these people?” Riley felt a little sheepish for asking. “And why are they here? And why is everyone so…is ‘chipper’ the right word?”

Giles let out a great sigh, and looked to Riley like he was about 10 years older just then.

“These people are Buffy’s chosen family. Willow and Xander have been her closest friends since she was a child. My second wife, Jenny, I, and our son’s, moved next door to Buffy’s father when she was twelve, and her sister, Dawn, was seven. They moved in with us just over two years later. Each one of them has just as much right to be here as you or I.”

Riley nodded. And noticed that Spike was now sitting against the wall, inhaling a cigarette as fast as it would burn.

“And they’re, chipper, as you call it, because they’ve seen time and again just how strong Buffy is. They’ve all been here before and though they’ve no idea the nature or circumstances this time, they have no reason to believe it to be different than any other time.

"And if it is?" He couldn't help asking.

"Then they’ll need each other to get through it,” Giles answered.

Giles held up a finger, indicating to Riley to give him a moment. He walked over to Spike, held out the cup in his hand. Spike appeared to glance at it a moment, and then took it and slugged it back like a shot of whiskey, crushed the cup, and threw it to the side. Giles appeared to say something to Spike, but Spike just shook his head and kept smoking.

“Giles?” A girl came bounding out the door. This one he knew. He’d seen her with Buffy a few times. Tara, that was her name. “Oh, hi Riley! Have you seen Giles?” He pointed at Giles and Spike, still talking.

“Giles! The doctor…” Was all she had to say before both Giles and Spike were suddenly right there and pushing through the door. Riley followed after, and melded into the crowd that was following. The doctor pulled Giles aside and was talking to him quietly, and briefly, before heading back behind closed doors.

“They’re taking her to surgery now. We probably won’t know more for a couple of hours.”
The crowd dispersed. Giles waited until it was just the three of them to continue.

“He said they’re giving her blood and fluids as fast as they can, but they’ve been unable to slow the bleeding. They’re hoping an emergency D & C will sufficiently slow it down, but they may have to take more… drastic… measures.”

Riley turned to gauge Spike reaction to the news, and found he was now sitting in the hallway, with his back against the wall, staring off into space. No.. he wasn’t staring into space, he was staring at his hands. And for the first time, he could see that they were covered in blood, as was most of him.

"Geez, that's a lot of blood." The words came out of him mouth before he could stop them.

“Know how many times I’ve washed her blood off my hands?” Spike asked.

“Isn’t once too many?”

“Too right, there. Feel a bit like Lady M. Just keeps coming back. ‘Cept this is real. Least her’s was all in her head. Guess killin’ people will do that to you.” Spike mused.

“Maybe you should go clean up?”

“She needs it. Took it from her. Can’t just wash it away. Watch it circle down the drain? Watch it aaalllll just slip away…”

“Giles?” Riley backed away from Spike, and looked at the older man with no small amount of concern. “I know I compared them to a Shakespearean tragedy; but, this is going a little far don’t you think?” Between the hair, the obvious tracks of dried tears, the blood and the creepy babble, he was more than a little concerned about Spike’s state of mind. Not to mention someone might come along and mistake him for a victim, or a perpetrator.

“Riley, a moment, please?” Giles headed back down the hallway to the door.

“What about Spike? I’m not sure we should…”

“Willow?” Giles called out, interrupting him, still walking toward the exit.

“I’m on it, Giles!” Willow’s voice answered.

He followed the man out the door, and stood next to him. When nothing seemed to be forthcoming, he decided he’d start.

“Giles, Spike…”

“Has been incredibly traumatized today. When he kicked in that door, he found her…” He didn’t seem to be able to finish his thought. “Buffy's body, lying in a pool of her own blood. And, he believes that he caused the death of the only girl he has ever truly loved.”

“But on the phone you said…”

“We were too late. Even the paramedics indicated she was...gone. William refused to release her. He wouldn’t even let them put her on the gurney. Put her there himself. And when he did…” The pause seemed to stretch forever.

“I don’t how or why, but by some miracle Buffy is alive.”

“But, that’s a good thing, right? Shouldn’t he be, I don’t know…I mean, not celebrating, of course, but… maybe… cautiously optimistic?”

“Riley, you have to understand...Buffy died. Alone and helpless, bleeding to death, miscarrying his child. Whether she lives another hour, or another eighty years, he will never forgive himself.”

He really hadn't thought of it that way. But he could see his point. And knowing what he did about these two...

"And I'm afraid that at this point, I really haven't any idea how to help either one of them," Giles confided.

But, didn't the universe owe these two something by this point? If they ever got through this intact, it would be a love story even Bronte or Tolstoy couldn't come up with, or Victor Hugo. One poorly told, less understood, and with more plot twists than anyone could possibly believe...and probably one that no one would ever know.

But first, they had to get through this. Come on universe.... give them one more chance....

Chapter 44 -

Who knew waking up could take so much effort? She was pleasantly surprised to be waking up at all. She’d thought for sure that she was going to die right there, in the floor, alone, hoping for one last miracle. Her last conscious thought had been to say a little prayer to whatever deity would listen that Riley showed up early to check on her, because if he didn’t…

She’d been so terrified when she’d been woken by excruciating pain, only to find that she and everything around her looking like a scene out of ‘Carrie’. She’d immediately tried to get to the phone, but as soon as she’d tried to stand, she’d passed out. There was no telling how long she laid there before coming around again. She’d tried getting up again, but her limbs felt like lead and wouldn’t support her, so she resorted pulling herself toward the phone, but it was a fitful journey of gaining inches, just to pass out again. She’d almost gotten to the phone after what felt like hour just to get a few feet, but any further effort just resulted in more pain and less consciousness, and so she finally gave up and hoped against all hope that Riley would get there in time, as the unbearable pain, the consuming fatigue, and freezing cold overwhelmed her. Even shivering from the cold seemed to make the pain worse, like she was being ripped apart on the inside. And all she could do was lay there, tears falling, the wet carpet squishing against her with any minute movement, fighting not to pass out again, and failing.

She really didn’t want to die, and sure as hell not like that. She’d been through so much and now *this* was going to take her out? There was so much she still wanted to do, to feel, to say, to love. She wanted so bad to see Michael again and smell his little baby smell, touch his soft little baby hair, and kiss his forehead. She wanted to see Dawn and tell her how beautiful she was going to be when she grew up, and that she should do everything she herself had never been able to do, like really enjoy life. And Giles, she needed to tell him thank you for being the father that her own could never be no matter how hard he tried, not that he ever did. And Riley, who never asked for everything he’d stumbled into, and yet did everything he could to help her.

And Spike... she’d initially hoped he would somehow miraculously show up. Wasn’t that what he did? Some divine intervention always seemed to put him in the right place at the right time. But she hadn’t seen him since he’d been by weeks ago. Which she couldn’t understand. But she wasn’t going to press him. It was his choice to be part of this or not. Obviously, he’d chosen not. And that hurt... a lot. More than she’d ever thought it could. No, Spike wasn’t going to be there this time. She couldn’t save herself this time either, so all she could do was hope and pray that Riley would make it. And when it felt like he wasn’t going to make it in time, she sent up a silent plea to everyone in her short life to please forgive her for all the pain she’d caused… especially Spike…

And now, here she was, fighting against bone weary exhaustion to make her brain swim up to being awake. She could hear the beeps and whirs and whoosh that told her she was once again in the hospital. Thank goodness for small miracles. Riley must have decided to come by early for their daily visit and chat session. She was alive. And right now, that was all that mattered.

It took a lot of convincing to get her eyes to open up, and she was rather pleased there weren’t blinding lights or sun streaming in from the window. She recognized the little ICU, and half expected to see Spike sitting there when she managed to glance around a little. Instead, the man who’d been so caring and patient for the last six years was sitting in the chair, his head bobbing a bit as he seemed to be fighting not to fall asleep. She tried to say something but her throat was dry and horribly sore, and all that came out was a raspy squeak. It was apparently enough, as it brought Giles to full attention.

“Buffy?” He asked, as if maybe he wasn’t sure she was really awake. She nodded as much as she could. Even that took a lot of effort. She was so tired. She felt like she could sleep for weeks, and even that might not be enough.

And then he was there, kissing her on the head and holding her hand as if she were a little girl again, letting her father hold her and wipe away the pain and tears of a skinned knee.

“Dear girl,” He said, and kissed her forehead. “You simply must stop doing this. I don’t think I can take many more of these episodes before I’m in the cubicle next to you,” he teased her. She tried to laugh. Really she did. But all she could manage was a sort of huff.

“Sorry,” Was what she tried to say. God her throat hurt. She hoped he understood what she said.

“Buffy, there’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Everything.” It came out raspy and crackled, but better. Unfortunately the force she’d put into saying it made her cough as well, which did nothing to help her throat. Nor did it help her pain. It felt like every single muscle fiber she had was exceedingly sore. Her mind wandered back to waking up in the ICU what seemed like so long ago, but was really just a couple of years ago. She wasn’t sure if she hurt more then or now, as the fatigue and the pain brought out a fresh set of tears.

Giles quickly summoned a nurse, who checked her over, and gave her a couple of sips of water through a straw, explaining that they’d intubated her on the way to the hospital and she’d been on the ventilator for surgery, and so her throat would be sore for a while. She didn’t remember it being like this before. But then, she’d been out a while after the attack, and for several days after the accident.

“So…tired.”

The nurse explained that even with all the blood they’d give her, she was still severely anemic, and it was going to take some time before she felt like running any marathons. She tried to laugh again at that. It almost even sounded like a laugh. A short one. Because it hurt like hell to laugh.

“Giles?”

“I’m here, Buffy,” He answered.

“Thank you.” It was all she could manage, but she met his eyes and hoped he saw everything she couldn’t say.

“Buffy, you needn’t thank me for anything.” He was back to holding her again. “It’s been my privilege to care for you and Dawn these years. I just hope you’ll allow me to be part of your life again.”

“Stupid.” Was all she could manage through the emotion he was drawing out of her.

“Yes, I have been. I’m so sorry, Buffy.”

“Me. Been so stupid.” She spoke through the tears.

“You’ve been many things over the years, but stupid is not one of them.”

“So stupid. About everything. Everything… my fault.” Her throat was really beginning to hurt too much to talk now.

“Buffy,” Giles backed up and sat on the bed next to her. He smoothed her hair and looked at her with such love and determination. It reminded her of the dozens of times Spike had done the same thing. “We’ve all made mistakes, myself included. It’s part of life. But if it is guilt you are looking for, Buffy, you’ll get none from me… only respect and support.”

He hugged her gently. She’d really have to thank him more when she could actually move. Or talk in complete sentences.

“How long… been here?”

“A little less than 24 hours. You were in the Emergency Room a few hours and then surgery. You’ve been here in the ICU since early this morning. Once they said you’d stabilized I sent everyone home for some rest.”

“Everyone?” As in… everyone? They all knew?

“Relax, Buffy.” He must have read her mind. “They only know you had some sort of accident that caused you to lose a lot of blood. What you decide to tell them in the future is up to you.”

She really had to say a bit of thanks to them at some point too. Even though she hadn’t spoken to any of them in over a year, they still apparently showed up when she needed them without even knowing why she was there.

“Riley?” He’d told her about meeting Giles when he’d brought her here a couple of weeks ago, and was keeping him updated on their unending waiting game.

“Asleep in the waiting room last I checked. I think his first encounter with our rather unorthodox gathering was a bit overwhelming for him.”

She could only imagine. She could practically see his confused expression after calling Giles and then having everyone show up and camp out, waiting to hear news of her fate this time.

“Spike?” She couldn’t help but ask. Over the years, the staff had given up even trying to make him leave. Now he was nowhere in sight. But if Giles and the others had been here, then Spike knew…

Silence. That was never good.

“Giles?”

Silence. Why wasn’t he answering? Did Spike hate her now? Was that why she hadn’t seen him since that day at the hotel?

“Buffy, Spike… I don’t quite know how to say this.”

Oh God, he did! He hated her. She’d waited too long. Said it all wrong. Done everything wrong. She turned her head away from Giles, unable to stop the tears as they spilled forth.

“He’s not himself right now, Buffy.” He had taken his glasses off and was pinching the bridge of his nose. A familiar mannerism he used when he was frustrated or wasn’t sure how to explain something difficult. “When he found you…” Giles trailed off, breathing in and out slowly as if trying to get control of himself.

That, she wasn’t prepared for.

“Thought… Not Riley?” She asked.

“No. Not Riley. Buffy, I’m sorry I didn’t put it together sooner. But once I realized what William was sensing, we came immediately.”

“Don’t… understand.” What was he talking about? God, she was so tired. It took everything she could muster to stay awake now.

“William hasn’t been himself for weeks now.” He was looking directly at her, now. “I don’t know how, but I think that somehow, on some level, he knew what was going to happen. Without even realizing it himself, he was in effect mourning your… passing.”

Still not making sense. She needed to sleep so bad. Maybe that would make it clear.

“Not… dead...” He words were starting to sound a little slow to her ears. So very tired.

“Your were. By the time we got there and William found you…” He took a few more calming breaths. “We were too late.”

But if she died, then… “But… I’m… ?”

“Alive?” He asked. “Thankfully, yes. And I can’t explain it. William was holding your… you, and refused to let the paramedics have you. Even after I convinced him to let them take you, he insisted that he be the one to set your…you… on the gurney… and when he did, somehow… It was nothing short of a miracle, Buffy. ”

Spike had found her...

Not in time...

Exaggerating...

Couldn’t have… really… died…

Could she…?

She stopped fighting the fatigue and let sleep take her.

Chapter 45

“So… are you, and Sam headed back to South America? Or… is it classified?” They continued walking down the lane in front of The Magic Box.

“Nepal,” Riley answered after a brief pause.

“Sounds fun.” What else was she going to say?

“I’ll send you a postcard.”

Sure he would.

“Buffy…”
“Riley…”
They both began at the same time.

“By mission parameters, I'm done here. But I have authorization to take the Doctor out… You want me to do that?”

“Do I want you to… How can you ask me...” Was he really suggesting that? “I’m sleeping with him… I’m sleeping with Spike.” The statement sounded odd to her ears.

“I had actually noticed that,” He replied. And was that a grin?

“And then you come back ... and did you wait until your life was absolutely perfect and then send that demon here so you could throw it in my face?” Him, with all the gadgets, and the wife, and…

“Look ... you think this was easy for me?” He seemed to indicate maybe it wasn’t.

“Yeah! I think it was a rollicking adventure, fun for the whole family!”

“I was terrified about seeing you again.”

Sure he was.

“I'm sure my incredible patheticness softened the blow for you.” She only meant that to be a little catty.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge that anything at all was wrong.

“Riley, please don't patronize…”

“You want me to say that I liked seeing you in bed with that idiot? Or that blinding orange is your very best color? Or that that ... burger smell is appealing?”

“You smelled the smell?” Of course, he smelled the smell. People in Idaho could probably smell the smell.

“Buffy, none of that means anything… It doesn’t touch you.” He seemed genuinely earnest. “You're still the first woman I ever loved ... and the strongest woman I've ever known. And I'm not advertising this to the missus ... but you're still quite the hottie.”

“You know, it goes away after many bathings,” She lied. She was pretty sure it wouldn’t ever go away.

He laughed. There was the goofy Riley she remembered.

“This isn't about who's on top. I know how lucky I am right now. I love my work, and I love my wife.”

She believed him.

“I know,” She admitted. “I kinda love her too.” Who didn’t?

“So you're not in the greatest place right now. And maybe I made it worse…”

“No.” He really hadn’t. She’d done that all by herself.

“Wheel never stops turning, Buffy. You're up, you're down …” He was looking straight into her eyes now. “it doesn't change what you are. And you’re a hell of a woman.”

She should tell him…this was probably the last time she would ever see him. He deserved to know.

“Riley, that night... I never got the chance ... to tell you ... how sorry I was... about what happened between us.”

“And you’ll never have to…”

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

Once again pushing herself to break the surface of consciousness, she willed her eyelids to open and was greeted with another person, that wasn’t Spike, sitting in the chair across from her.

“There’s those gorgeous green eyes.” Riley smiled at her.

Riley.

“Sorry.” She needed to tell him. Before he left, this time.

“That wasn’t exactly the greeting I was looking for; but, hey, beggars can’t be choosers.” He smiled. That goofy smile that always made her smile. Even if doing so took some effort. At least now it took less effort than when Giles had been there.

“Still sorry.”

“Buffy, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m just glad you’re alive.” He was holding her hand now. “All of us are.”

All except Spike apparently.

“Buffy?” Riley prompted her. “Care to share what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

No. She really didn’t.

“It’s… hard to explain.” Maybe he’d accept that and leave it alone.

“Fair enough. You can’t bottle these things up though, Buffy. Hard as it may be for either of us to talk about… Why don’t you try?”

Of course he wouldn’t leave it alone.

“Do I have to play twenty questions again?”

“No.” She took a deep breath. And then another. And then one more.

“Buffy?”

“It’s… stupid, really.” She cleared her throat and tried to reach for the cup of water. Riley grabbed the cup and held the straw for her.

“Go on…”

“It’s just…” She took another sip. “He’s always been here... when I woke up.”

“Spike?”

She nodded.

Riley huffed out a breath and seemed to be debating what to say.

“Told you it was stupid.”

“No. No, it’s not. It’s just… ”

“Stupid? Childish? Selfish? Any other -ish’s I’ve missed?”

“Not what I was expecting,” He corrected her.

“Oh.” What else could she say? She wasn’t exactly ready to talk about… that… right this moment.

“I get it. I do. It’s something familiar…”

“He hates me, doesn’t he?”

Riley seemed shocked at her question.

“Buffy, Spike’s not exactly firing on all cylinders at the moment.”

“He’s not himself right now.” Giles’s words sang in her mind.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we should talk about this later. You’re still pretty weak, and the nurse made some not so vague threats on my life if I did anything to upset you.”

“Riley?” She put on her best resolve face.

“What did Giles tell you?” He seemed to be hedging the question.

“It’s kind of fuzzy.” She wasn’t exactly sure how much was real and how much maybe she had dreamed.

“Understandable. Tell me what you remember, and maybe I can help bring it into focus.”

What did she remember? There wasn’t much to tell.

“Not a lot. I think… I think he said he figured it out because of Spike somehow?”

He seemed to consider that but didn’t seem inclined to anything.

“What else?” He asked.

“That it was Spike who got to me? But…”

“But?” He pressed her to go on.

“I think he said that I died? That can’t be right.”

Riley sat there silent for a while.

“That isn’t right, is it?” She asked more emphatically.

He got up and paced as much as the confined space would let him.

“Riley?”

He stopped and turned to face her, but he was glancing between her and the nurse sitting just outside her little room.

“Riley?!” He was beginning to freak her out a little.

“I don’t know, Buffy. I mean, I went by your place earlier to get some of your stuff that I thought you might want, and…” He seemed to trail off.

“And?”

“I mean, Giles said they were too late, but I thought maybe he was being dramatic or exaggerating or something, but…” He trailed off again.

“But?!” This was getting annoying.

Riley eyed the nurse again.

“But what, Riley?!”

“It looked like a crime scene, Buffy. Like a… a gruesome homicide or something happened in there. I don’t even know how a person can lose that much blood and still survive…” He seemed to be getting agitated. Like he was the one having to spill his innermost secrets.

“Look at me…” He held out his hands. They were shaking. “And I just saw the aftermath.” He resumed his pacing. “I can’t even imagine what Spike felt like when he kicked in that door and saw… ” He stopped and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I can’t even imagine.”

Ok, so he had a point. But, Spike had seen worse, and still he’d always been there. If she let him.

“But this isn’t the first time Spike’s found me half dead. Another 15 minutes in that alley and I probably wouldn’t be here today. Or 10 more minutes in the car when…” She stopped short and had to take a few deep breaths. She would not cry. “So, not exactly the first time he’s been through this.”

Riley sat in the chair again and took her hand, holding it with both of his. He looked at her earnestly for several seconds. She could tell he was turning his thoughts over in his head, trying to find just the right way to say something. She wished he would just say it, whatever it was.

“Think about it, Buffy. What’s different this time?”

“You want me to think? You tell me I might have died, and you want me to think?”

He smiled and made that little half of a laugh that only he could do so well. It made her want to smile. But she didn’t. She was thinking. What was different? It wasn’t too hard to guess.

“Me.” She answered. “It’s me. All the times I’ve been here before? They were because of something that was done *to* me… out of my control. This? Was because I was using others. Him. I used him. And you. I used you. I… I deserved this. That’s the difference.”

She was beginning to feel the insistent pull of sleep again. She chanced a sideways look at Riley to check his reaction. He was giving her that look. The one that meant he was upset but his manners wouldn’t let him say what he wanted to.

“Ok, first…”

Or maybe he was going to say it. She steeled herself for his words.

“This isn’t some sort of punishment for something you think you did. And second, no one deserves this, Buffy. No one. And third, no one blames you for any of this.”

“He does.”

That did it. He looked a little gobsmacked. Why were these little conversations so tiring?

“Is that what you think?”

“Why else wouldn’t he be here?”

“What do you want me to say, Buffy?” Riley stood up and began pacing back and forth, pausing for emphasis as he spoke. “That Spike can’t even bring himself to face you? That he isn’t in love with you? That you should forget him and finally, really, move on? You think I want to stand here and defend him?”

“Riley, no, I just….”

“You know what? You’re half right, Buffy. All of this? It’s because of what was done to you.”

So she was right.

“The difference?” He paused, looking straight into her eyes. “Is that this time Spike thinks he’s the one who put you here.”

Oh.

“Yeah, big ‘oh’.”

She must have said that out loud. Hard to tell. Sleep was definitely going to win again.

“Buffy, I can’t answer if you really died or not. Maybe… for a few seconds, or even minutes, who knows? God knows there was enough blood…” He paused as a shiver ran through him.”But Spike thinks you were, and in his mind, he’s the one who killed you. And not just you, but...”

“The…” Sleep was definitely winning. It felt like just blinking to several seconds.

“Say it, Buffy.” She could feel he was holding her hand again. His tone was soft now, with an edge of sadness she didn’t remember hearing before.

“The what, Buffy? You aren’t the only one affected by this. Make it real.”

She felt something wet drop on her hand, and then another drop. She felt him bring her hand up and place a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, followed by something wet dropping on her hand. And then another drop followed it. Through her half-closed eyelids, she could just make out the telling trail of a tear on his face. And then she felt the telling wetness of her own tears.

“Baby,” She whispered. “Me… and the baby…” The fatigue was making it harder to get the words out, drawing out their impact on her both physically and emotionally.

She closed her eyes. She wanted to know more. But she just couldn’t force them open at the moment.

“Riley?” Her sleepy voice dragged his name out a bit.

“I’m here, Buffy.”

“You… would… have… been… ” Even with her eyes closed, and darkness taking over, the tears spilled faster.

“Shhh…” He interrupted, stroking her hair. “It’s ok. Sleep. I’ll be here.”

Chapter 46

So it’s true?

Dawn, you may not have noticed, we are in really big trouble. This is no…

Why did you not tell me?

Because you didn’t need to know!

Yes, I do! I need to know! I’m not a kid anymore!

Dawn, I am trying to protect you.

Well you can’t! Look around, Buffy! We’re trapped in here! Willow’s killing and people I love keep dying! And you can not protect me from that!

They just keep coming, I can’t take them all. Dawn… will you help me?

I got your back.

Dawn! I’m coming!

What? You think I never watched you?

I… I think it’s over, Buffy. The world’s still here.

Sorry to disappoint… Wait. Is… is that happy crying?

Yes, dummy! You think I wanted the world to end?

I don’t know… Didn’t you?

Dawn… I am so sorry… I’m sorry…

It’s ok, Buffy… It’s ok…

No, it hasn’t been. It hasn’t been ok... But it’s gonna be now. I see it.

See what?

You. Things have really sucked lately, but that’ all gonna change… and I want to be there when it does. I want to see my friends happy again. I want to see you grow up. The woman you’re gonna become… Because she’s gonna be beautiful. And she’s gonna be powerful. I got it so wrong. I don’t want to protect you from the world… I want to show it to you. There’s so much that I wanna show you.

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

It was easier to surface this time. Not nearly as much of a fight. She still felt like she was exhausted and sore and like all of her limbs weighed a ton, but at least she was as exhausted or as sore. She opened her eyes, expecting to find Riley, but the person standing next to her was definitely not Riley. Unless he’s lost a lot of weight and had a sex change.

“‘Bout time you woke up.” Her sister was standing there, staring at her, with her arms crossed. Everything about Dawn practically screamed annoyed and pissed off teenager.

“Sorry. Who knew losing most of your blood could be so exhausting?”

That earned her one of Dawn’s world-famous eye rolls, which brought the smallest smiles to her face. And then suddenly she had her arms full of Dawn hugging the breath out of her.

“You know, if you want attention, there are much better ways to do it,” Dawn’s chiding sounded only half-hearted. “I’ve heard you can even do it without losing a single drop of blood or getting a concussion, or skull fracture, or a broken leg, or…”

“I get it, Dawn,” She interrupted.

“Do you?” Her sister sat up and looked at her seriously. “Really? Seems like you’re pretty convinced otherwise.”

“It’s not exactly like I do it on purpose.” She retorted, only a tiny bit of cattiness in her voice.

“You mean, like leaving in the middle of the night and never calling or writing or telling us you were even alive?” Dawn crossed her arms and put on her best righteous angry look.

Ok, she deserved that.

“Sorry…” Dawn seemed to deflate a bit and put her arms back down to her side. “I’m just really ang…”

“No, you’re right,” She interrupted her. “I did do that, and I shouldn’t have. I was overwhelmed and couldn’t really think about anything, my mind and my heart and my emotions were in such a bad place, and... it took me a long time to really get my head together. Still kind of working on it.”

“Buffy? What happened?”

Whoa boy, she was jumping in there with both feet, wasn’t she? And she sure as heck wasn’t ready to discuss the complexities of her love life with her fourteen-year-old sister.

“It’s complicated.”

“Kind of gathered that. What with you being in here for some mysterious accident and Spike being all insano guy.”

“What?” What did that even mean?

“You mean no one’s told you? Huh… I’d have thought at least Riley would have said something. Gotta say… I’m diggin’ the new boyfriend. ” Her sister interest seemed to be piqued, the question was, why? And speaking of…

“Where is Riley?” She was a little more hurt than she cared to admit that he hadn’t been there when she woke up. He’d said he’d be there.

“Oh, when we got here he was like, passed out cold, so Giles told him to go home and get some sleep. But he was all, ‘I told her I’d be here,’ so Giles sent him to grab some food from the nasty cafeteria and then he was still in here when Riley got back, so he sat down in the waiting room and totally crashed. He’s still asleep out there. We didn’t have the heart to wake him up.”

Well, that made her feel a little better. Sort of.

“How long have I been here?”

“Mmm… a couple days and change. They said that they were going to move you to a regular room here in a little while though and that you might even get to go home tomorrow evening if everything looks good. Whatever that means.”

Home. And where was that exactly? She somehow doubted the Sunnydale Arms would be welcoming her back from the sound of things. Which meant she would need to find a new place.

“You’re not coming home. Are you?” He sister was back to being angry.

Home. Could she go back? Should she?

“Good to know where we really stand,” Dawn bit out and turned to leave.

“Dawn, wait!”

The urgency she put into the request made Dawn stop and spin back to face her, with all the fury Dawn could muster pouring off of her.

“Yes.”

“Yes… what, Buffy?”

“Yes. I’ll come home...”

Dawn erupted in a series of squeals and jumps and shouts, which brought the nurse running in, and shortly after Giles, followed by Riley, appeared at the edge of her little room. Once the nurse determined that everything was ok, she reminded everyone that there were other patients and to either remain quiet or leave.

“That is, if… if it’s ok with Giles?” She quietly added.

“Giles, please? Please, please, please, please, please?” Dawn was begging urgently, but quietly.

“And what, precisely, is it you want me to agree to?” Giles asked warily.

“Buffy wants to come home!” Dawn’s voice was creeping up in volume.

Giles looked at her, his look clearly questioning if Dawn’s statement had been correct. Riley, on the other hand, had a worried frown.

“Guys, can you give Riley and me a minute?”

Giles seemed to take that in, and put his arm around Dawn, guiding her, despite her protests, out of the small room.

“You’re upset.” It was more a stated observation, which almost sounded like a question.

“Not exactly sure how I feel,” He answered, looking like he might actually be a little confused and conflicted.

“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” She asked, unsure herself.

“You tell me.” He answered.

Was this it? The moment when she told him thanks for everything and sent him on his way? She wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

“I think… that I can’t go back to the hotel. And I need to… reconnect... with my family. But… I’m not ready to not have you here, either?” Ok, so that should have been more statement than question.

Riley seemed to consider that for a while. A long while. So long it was making her uncomfortable and worried.

“I can live with that. For now. But, Buffy? At some point…”

“Yeah. I know. I just…” She stopped. She really didn’t have words to say the right thing at that moment. I would all come out wrong. So she settled on something else instead.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you… for everything… or to say that I’m sorry… for everything…”

“And you’ll never have to…” He smiled.

She swiped at a tear that threatened to spill.

“I’ll go get the others,” Riley offered.

Moments later, he returned with Giles and Dawn in tow.

“Giles… I think… I think that I’m ready to come home… if you’ll let me?” She asked.

He paused a moment, then let out a breath she hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He quickly stepped forward and leaned down to hold her gently in his arms.

“Of course, you silly girl. I can think of nothing better.”

And then Dawn was there again, hugging both of them.

She chanced a glance a Riley. He was still standing near the doorway, a facsimile of a genuine smile covering his face. However, in her heart, she knew… it was a smile that signaled the beginning of an ending, and honestly, one that was going to hurt more than she wanted to admit.

“How are you?” Riley asked in that innocent yet probing way he always asked such questions when talking to her lately.

She’d been calling him whenever she felt a bit too cooped up, and ask if he’d like to get coffee or something. Sometimes that was what they would do. Other times he would just take her out driving along the coastal highway and let the wind and the scent of the ocean just wash over them for miles. But he always asked.

“Oh, you know, fine.” Was her usual answer.

“No really, Buffy, how are you?” He never would accept her answer. Sometimes she would change the subject and talk about something… anything... and other times she would just leave the question hanging. He wouldn’t press further. He’d probably figured out a long time ago that the more he pushed her, the more she pushed back.

“You have to talk about it sometime Buffy, you nearly died.” Apparently, tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights.

She just gave him a look that said she was well aware of that fact.

“Do I have to start taking you back to open mic night?”

“No.” It was a simple, contrite, response.

“So…?” He pressed. Stupid Riley.

“So… not the first time.” She defiantly finished.

“I’m aware.”

That earned him a snort. He had no idea.

“Guess this makes, what, the fifth time?”

Huh. Ok, maybe he did.

“How did you….” She left the question hanging.

“One of your writings,” He supplied. “I didn’t read it all.” He glanced over at her, presumably to gauge her reaction. “Just enough to realize it wasn’t what I thought it was, and to recognize what it symbolized.”

She was staring out at the ocean as it weaved in and out of view for a long time. She didn’t really feel like going into a lot of history today.

“How do you feel about almost dying, again?”

She knew he would keep at it once he started. Might as well give him what he wants.

“Honestly? I don’t really think about it.” She said, looking to gauge his reaction. He seemed a bit perplexed.

“It doesn’t bother you? That you died? Almost died?” He corrected himself. “That you almost bled to death?”

“Honestly? No.” That seemed to alarm him.

“Buffy…”

“No, Riley, listen,” Best to stop his line of thought before it went too far. “It’s not like you’re thinking. I care if I live or die, yes. But, I learned a long time ago that any day could be my last, so I needed to grab and hold on to everything I could, while I could, no regrets. I also learned to do whatever I had to do to survive because I knew that one day all of the hurt, and the pain, and the abuse would be over. I knew that one day, I’d be able to escape it all and really start actually living.”

He seemed to consider that for a while. A really long while. Long enough that she was able to lean her head back on the headrest and just let the wind sweep over her, carrying away all her thoughts.

“And now? Are you still waiting for the day you escape?”

Was she?

“Can I make a suggestion?” He asked.

“Does it matter if I say yes or no?” She asked, knowing his answer. He smiled.

“Buffy, have you considered that you’ve already escaped? That this life you’re living it… well, it’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time?”

Was it? Was this it? Was this life, or living, as it were? Was this what she’d been waiting for all this time?

“I think, maybe, you’ve been so busy fighting all these things from your past that you started ‘living’ life without even realizing it.” He added. “I mean, think about it, Buffy; you’ve been trying to cram an entire lifetime into a few years, thinking it was all you might have. But the real question is… did you take time and enjoy it?”

“Yes,” She answered without having to consider. There were moments that she cherished and could pull out of her memory to keep her going when things seemed so bleak. She’d definitely spent a lot of time embracing the spirit of joie de vivre.

“No,” She amended. There were so many things she’d taken for granted. Things she could have, should have, enjoyed more.

“There’s just so much… pain.”

Riley nodded. Not like he could argue with her on that point. Not now that he knew so much about her. Now that she’d unintentionally dragged him into her world.

“Not going to lie to you, Buffy; you’re life hasn’t been easy.”

“That’s an understatement.” Understatement of the century.

“But you’ve also experienced things that some of us mere mortals can only hope to find one day.”

“And that would be…?”

“True love.”

Oh. And now she felt like trash. Way to go Buffy.

“Don’t. I know what you’re thinking. And if you apologize again, I’ll make you drive the rest of the way back.”

“Feeling suicidal, are we? Gee that makes me feel so much better!” She teased him.

“I’m serious, Buffy. You need to stop apologizing. I made peace with what this is a long time ago.” His statement was so calm and easy; there was no way to doubt it. Still…

“Was that before or after the…” She paused, the word stuck in her throat. “Before or after?”

“Pregnancy? You can say it, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Say it, Buffy.”

“Do they teach you in psychology how to professionally torture people, or does it come naturally for you?” She bit out. It was only a little catty.

“It’s an advanced class, but Professor Walsh says I’m a natural.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

“Fine. Did you make peace with the fact I was using you before or after I got pregnant?” She aimed her arrow straight for his heart. Or his mouth.

“I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want to grow old with you and watch our grandchildren running around from our porch.” He slid his hand over to place it over her own that was resting on her thigh, and he squeezed it. “But I would also be lying if I said I didn’t realize a long time ago that you don’t love me.”

“I do, Riley. Love you.”

“I believe you.” He gave her that sad little smile and glanced over at her briefly. “But we both know you don’t love me the way you love Spike.”

She huffed out a breath. Spike. He just had to bring up Spike.

“Have you talked to him?”

Had she? Sort of. If you could call it talking.

“I live in the same house as him.”

“So is that a yes or a no?” Riley pushed.

“It’s a, I’ve tried.” She really had.

“But?”

“But… it’s a pretty one-sided conversation. He’s all insane in the basement. I say something, and he says a bunch of mumbo jumbo that makes no sense what so ever. One second he’s looking at me like I’m some sort of goddess and the next he’s telling me to get out and yelling about how he has to pay, then a second later he asks me to stay with him. I think… I think it’s almost worse when I’m down there.”

Riley seemed to think about that a while. She was glad for the reprieve.

“You know he blames himself, right?” Riley finally spoke.

“What? That’s ridiculous! How can he…”

“Buffy,” He interrupted her. “You probably don’t remember, but we talked about this before, in the hospital.”

She very vaguely recalled him saying something when she was in the hospital.

“Spike seemed pretty convinced that this was his child. Because of that, he thinks that you nearly dying was his fault.”

“But that doesn’t even make sense!” She interjected. “It’s not like he did this all by himself. I was there. In fact, I’m the one who…” How exactly did she finish that statement?

“Let me guess. He was trying to get you to talk, and you decided to take control of the situation?” Riley asked her.

She thought about it for a minute.

“Sort of. He was trying to get me to stop being afraid.” She left it there.

“Afraid of what?” Riley finally asked.

“Feeling.” She answered honestly.

Riley’s face seemed pensive.

“If you didn’t realize until recently that you were in love with him, then why did you…”

“You tell me. I don’t think even I know why I did it.” Buffy admitted.

Again with the pensive face.

“Control.” He finally blurted out. “You were trying to control the situation, On your terms.”

“Maybe, I don’t know. I just… I wanted to feel… something... anything. I knew he was in love with me, but…”

“But what, Buffy?” He pressed.

“I wanted to feel, something. Me! *I* wanted to feel. I thought that maybe if I… maybe I would finally feel. So I used him. Ok?!”

“You were trying to fill a void inside the only way you knew how?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you are annoyingly perceptive?” She asked.

“Just you.” He grinned briefly. “What did Spike do?” God, why wouldn’t he just shut up?

“You really want the details about how Spike and I…”

“What did Spike do?” He interrupted.

“He stopped.” She turned back to stare into the night sky. “He asked me a bunch of annoying questions about why I… and then he just… stopped.”

“So maybe he feels like he forced your hand?” He opined. “Maybe, he felt like he pushed just a little too far? Like he said or did something wrong? That if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have felt the need to take control. Maybe he feels like he should have had better control of the situation, or himself. Regardless, he sees it as his fault. Giles seems to think Spike can’t forgive himself. That he feels like his moment of weakness, cost you your life. Which, considering it seems to be his personal goal to save you, means he failed you. Epically.”

“Even if that were true, and I’m not saying it is or isn’t, that still doesn’t make any of this his fault. He didn’t cause me to miscarry and nearly bleed to death. It just happened.”

“No pregnancy, no miscarriage. No miscarriage, no bleeding to death.”

“But it was my choice! I jumped him! Literally!”

Riley seemed to suddenly choke on something and started coughing. After a few seconds, he was back under control.

“Be that as it may. He failed. In his mind. He failed to prevent it. And according to Giles, Spike somehow knew what was going to happen, not sure how that’s supposed to work, and didn’t get to you before it did. Double whammy. In his mind, he not only caused it, but he also let it happen.”

She considered his words. Spike couldn’t have known. Then again, Spike somehow just seemed to know a lot of things. He was always showing up at the right, or wrong, time depending on your perspective.

“So what do I do now?”

“Honestly? Haven’t got a clue.” Riley answered as he pulled into the driveway of Gile’s home.

“Psych boy doesn’t have all the answers?” She teased him.

“Not all, no. He thinks he failed you. That he doesn’t deserve the one thing he’s always wanted. Show him he’s wrong.” Riley finished.

“And how the heck am I supposed to do that?” She asked him.

“I have no idea. But I’m sure you will figure it out.” He answered.

“Then what good are you?” She affected a pout.

“None at all. I’m completely useless. You should completely ignore everything I said.” He gave her his best goofy smile.

“Liar,” She smiled, then climbed out of his car. She walked around the car to his door and leaned in. “Riley?” She started.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.” She leaned further in and kissed his cheek before standing up and taking a could of steps back.

He gave her a smile and a nod before backing out of the driveway and driving away.

He’d given her a lot to think about. Now she just had to figure out what to do with it. She was pondering that thought as she walked into the house, and was met with an obviously angry Dawn, holding Michael who was asleep on her shoulder.

“Hope you’re finally happy. He’s gone.” Dawn’s words practically dripped with anger.

“Dawn, what’re you…”

“Spike left.”

“Left?” She didn’t understand. ”Where did he go?”

“He moved out.”

Moved? Out? The words didn’t seem to be registering.

“There’s a note.” Dawn handed her an envelope. “We’re going to bed. Michael will be in my room since you don’t know anything about taking care of him and you ran off the person who was like a father to him. Hope you can sleep with yourself.” Dawn huffed before abruptly turning around and marching up the stairs leaving her standing there alone in the foyer suddenly feeling very lost and alone.

She slowly made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She crawled on top of it, curled in a ball and stared into space until sleep overtook her hours later.

Chapter 48

“So, you going to tell me what we’re doing here and why there’s an intriguingly eclectic mix of cars here? I mean, not every day you see a beat-up truck on its last leg parked next to a Ferrari, and a… is that a Diablo?”

“I told you,” Riley began. “You need to…”

“I need to see something,” She interrupted him. “Got that the first four times you said it.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re adorable when you roll your eyes?” Riley asked her, his genuine smile taking some of the edge off of her annoyance at his refusal to tell her anything about where they were going or why. She’d become more than a little anxious when they entered the warehouse district.

They walked in companionable silence through the large metal door that had been propped open, and proceeded down the dimly lit hall. The stench of body odor, blood, and dust got stronger and stronger as they went, as did the distinct noises of a small crowd raucously cheering and jeering at something. She really hoped Riley hadn’t brought her to a dogfight, or rooster fight, or whatever animals people sadistically pitted against each other these days.

Finally, the hallway ended in a massive room lit by high windows allowing the sun to filter in, along with the lights hanging from the high ceiling by long cords.

“Tickets?” A large guy bellowed from behind two of those crowd control barricades strategically positioned to ensure only one person at a time would fit through the opening that was left between them. Buffy watched as Riley fished two slips of paper out of his back pocket and handed them to the guy. The guy took his time looking them over and then handed one to Riley and one to her, with the instruction that they keep it on them at all times.

“Do I want to know how much those tickets cost, or how you got them?” She asked once they had passed the door guy and were handing on the outskirts of a modest crowd.

“Probably not,” Riley answered rather dryly. “But I think you’ll agree they were worth it once you see why we’re here.” A small roar from the crowd erupted, followed by lots of laughing and grunts of disappointment.

“Why are we here Riley?” She asked. “Please tell me you didn’t really think I would enjoy some sort of animal fighting thing?”

“Not animals. And I didn’t say you’d enjoy it, either.”

Okay. This was beginning to border on wigging out territory for her.

“Riley,” She began, unable to hide the rising panic out of her voice. “I don’t like this. You’re beginning to scare me. I want out of here now!” She finished with as much steely determination as she could muster.

Riley froze and stared at her. He stepped closer to her and took her face into his hands as he spoke earnestly, keeping his eyes locked onto hers. “No one’s going to hurt you, Buffy. You have my word. But there is something here you need to see because I think you’re the only one who can do anything about it.”

“Me?”

“Let’s just say that I think it’s time for you to fight some demons other than your own.”

He dropped his hands, grabbed her right hand, and began pulling her through the crowd of people. Some seemed to be leaving, while others were jockeying for a better position. Of course, Riley wasn’t exactly a small person, and a few of the people seemed to actually recognize him if the small talk was any indication.

They ended up with a nearly front row position next to what looked like a circle created by more barricades. The floor inside the circle was wet in spots and splattered with what she could only assume to be blood. Inside the circle, were two busty girls in crop tops and short shorts circling around with big pieces of cardboard with numbers painted on them. As soon as the showgirls vacated the circle, two guys hopped over the barricades. They were nondescript, fit but not bulky, not too short but not too tall. They looked to be pretty close in size and shape. One had a chin-length mop of brown hair while the other had almost a military style cut. Both had what looked like tape around their hands. One had on just a pair of basketball shorts while the other had only a pair of sweatpants.

The two guys danced around each other a bit and then suddenly they were both swinging punches at each other. She watched in fascination, unable to turn away even though she wanted to. The two went at each other like their lives depended on it. After only a couple of minutes, one was on the ground and the other was standing still. Finally, the one on the ground waved and the crowd around them once again roared as people began filing in and out again.

“You brought me to a fight?” She couldn’t help the incredulity in her voice. How on earth could he possibly think this was ok?

“I know, Buffy, but I promise you’ll see why soon.”

“There better be a dang good reason for this!” She warned him.

Just then the crowd noise died down, and Buffy turned around to see two more guys jump into the circle, bounce around, and then start swinging. This one lasted a couple of rounds, which were apparently about two minutes each, before one of them was knocked out cold.

Such was the cycle. Two guys go in, they fight until one conceded, the crowd shifts, barbie dolls circle with seemingly random numbers, and the crowd cheered them on. Periodically, a large guy would grab Riley and ask for “verification.” Buffy had learned this meant she was to show him her ticket, which he would inspect before handing it back and moving on.

“How can these people do this?” She wondered out loud, and the barbie dolls circled again. “And how can these other people just watch and cheer for two guys to pound each other into mush?”

“Probably one of the oldest sports in existence,” Riley answered. “All in pursuit of the oldest drug in existence… adrenaline.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” She retorted.

“I don’t know. Sometimes it feels good to test your limits and see how much you can take. Or give. No weapons, no fancy gloves or pads, two guys reminding themselves they can hold their own, and take a punch if they need to.”

“Please tell me you haven’t done this?” Buffy sent him a look that she hoped he understood to mean he was stupidity personified if he had.

He smirked.

“Not regularly, no, but… yeah, once or twice.”

She could only stare at him. If she opened her mouth some not so nice words were going to come out.

“First time was after I got my ass handed to me by a petite blond girl.”

Well, if that didn’t make her feel great. She’s emasculated him, and he’d come here to get his mojo back.

“Riley… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” He smiled sadly at her. “It was my fault. I was being an idiot and shouldn’t have…”

“Riley, you couldn’t have known.” She cut him off.

“I did.” He replied.

Her confusion must have been pretty obvious.

“I mean, I didn’t know the details, but the signs were there. I just chose to ignore them.”

She had the grace to look away from his guilt-ridden face.

“So yeah, I came here to clear my head and reassure myself I could still give as good as I got.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“Not too bad. Broke my nose just as it was almost healed, but otherwise, I was good. I won if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I wondered why it seemed to take so long.”

She glanced around, they’d apparently missed a fight as the Barbie dolls were circling yet again. This time though the crowd seemed to be thicker than the previous fights. No one was standing around the outside, and she was beginning to get a bit claustrophobic as all the bodies pushed in closer and tighter.

“Final fight,” Riley stated. “This is why we’re here, what you need to see.”

She turned back to the circle, leaning left and slightly up on her tiptoes to see around two guys now standing in front of her. She caught a glimpse of one of the fighters as he jumped inside the circle. A large guy with big muscles. He looked like he was right on the verge of being too muscled to really be a fighter. As he threw a couple of test swings, she revised her opinion. He was quick. This guy could do some damage. One thing she’d noticed, however, was that the fighters generally seemed to be pretty evenly matched. At least whoever fought this guy could probably also do some damage.

Judging by the crowd, the other guy had also jumped in, but they had all pressed forward and tighter and she was having trouble more than just glimpses. What was it she was supposed to see?

And then she saw it. The shock of platinum blond hair slicked back, attached to a small and wiry, but muscular, frame.

“Spike?” The name escaped her lips unbidden, as she stared at his bare back. This was far from an even match.

“Apparently he’s been a regular feature lately.”

“You knew where he was all this time?” Buffy spun around, turning her fury on Riley.

“Suspected!” Riley held his hands up a sign of surrender. “I’ve suspected he might be a member since the day I told him you were pregnant.”

That earned him an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Call it a hunch,” He non-answered. “Anyway, after he disappeared I figured where else would a self-doubting pain in the ass who’s hell-bent on punishing himself, go?”

She turned back to watch said pain in the ass. The fight seemed to be going on and on forever, and Spike was taking one hell of a pounding. Then one particularly bad series of back to back punches finally sent him to his knees, and for a moment she thought he might tap out. Then again, who was she kidding? It was Spike. Tapping out wasn’t even a possibility. Right as it looked like the guy was about to deal a knockout blow, Spike’s hand shot up and caught the punch and held it off. As he stood up, Spike twisted the guy’s hand and arm around to an awkward angle and then brought up his right fist and nailed the guy in the jaw. He then dropped the guy’s hand and whipped around and nailed the guy with a vicious left-handed spinning back fist. The guy dropped like a rock. Spike slowly started stalking around the circle, watching him, waiting to see if he was going to get up. She could see that Spike’s face was a mess and bruises were already beginning to form on his chest and ribs. When it became apparent the other guy wasn’t getting back up anytime in the near future, he slipped over the barricade and disappeared through the crowd.

“I…I don’t… why?” Was all she stutter out as she turned back to Riley.

“Why what, Buffy? Why would he come here every couple of weeks? Why would he purposely have them put him up against a bigger opponent every time? Why would he keep letting them beat him to a pulp for three times longer than any of the other matches when he can clearly end it at just about any time? Why do you think, Buffy? It’s not exactly rocket science.”

Her chagrin got the better of her, and she looked away, crossing her arms.

“Why did you bring me here? What do you expect me to do?” She asked.

“Here’s a crazy idea, how about you talk to him?” Riley replied.

“He’s not talking to me, remember? Doesn’t want to see me him, ever, remember? The note was pretty specific,” She said, staring down at her shoes.

“So, what, you just give up? Like he gave up on you when you disappeared?” Riley retorted.

“Spike didn’t…” She started to answer him before his point hit home.

“So what’re you going to do?”

“What can I do?” She answered, sounding a bit more desperate than she intended. “I don’t even know where he lives, or how to contact him.”

“I do,” Riley said, intently staring into her eyes.

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

She was having some serious deja vu as she walked along the sidewalk next to the very run down mission-style building that had apparently been converted to studio apartments sometime in the last century, judging by the wrought iron decorations, fixtures, and really dark colors. He couldn’t have picked a more crypt-like place to live in Sunnydale if he’d tried. Finally, she found apartment twenty-seven. It was now or never.

“Once more unto the breach,” She mumbled to herself as she knocked on the door. She waited patiently for him to answer. Then she knocked again. After the third time knocking, she decided he wasn’t going to answer and turned to leave. It was a horrible idea anyway. What could she possibly say to him? He was an adult and perfectly capable of making any stupid decision he wanted to. If he wanted to beat himself up over things he had no control over, that was his choice. Dummy.

She’d gotten almost twenty feet away from the door before Riley’s words about giving up on him replayed in her head. She huffed out a breath and marched back to the door and beat on it hard enough to rattle it on its hinges, throwing in a kick for good measure before she stood back, crossed her arms and stared determinedly at the tiny little peephole.

Apparently, he got the message. She heard a lock click open and the door flew open, an obviously angry Spike standing in the doorway, his own pissed off look matching her own.

“Note wasn’t clear enough?” Spike asked.

“Oh, it was clear. I just don’t care.” She answered with a half grin.

“Nothing new then?”

Ouch. That stung, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. She’d known he’d start slinging arrows and barbs, just not so soon.

“At least you finally learned something from me. Took you long enough.” She saw the slow burn in his face turn into a raging fire. Now he was really angry. He sucked in a deep breath, preparing to yell at her. The effort caused an involuntary flinch, and she saw a flash of pain for a split second before he suppressed it.

“Cut the act, Spike,” She rolled her eyes as she pushed around him and turned to face him, her arms crossed, inside his apartment. “I know you’ve got some huge bruises on your chest and back, and I’d be shocked if you didn’t have a broken rib or two.”

Spike fish mouthed a couple of times, clearly surprised, before getting control of himself. He silently pushed the door shut and then slowly turned to face her. He seemed to be waging a war in his head. “How’d you find me?” He finally asked, pushing off the door and heading for a shelf in the kitchen area. He pulled down a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He quickly filled it, before shooting it, and then filling it again before he turned to face her.

His right eye was mostly swollen shut, and what was visible was bloodshot. That whole side of his face was one giant bruise. There was a small gash on his cheekbone that was held closed by three butterfly tapes. He was wearing a loose tee and jeans, his arms and feet bare.

“See anything you like?” He teased, his trademark flirty swagger easily slipped out almost automatically before he visibly recoiled and then looked down at his glass a moment and once again downed the liquor in one shot. “’Course not.” He stared into the now empty glass once more, as if expecting to see something, before setting it on the counter next to the little sink and then staggering over to the small table. He pulled out a chair and sank into it with a heavy sigh.

“Whatever you’ve got to say, say it, and get out.” He feigned indifference. At least she hoped it was feigned.

“How are you?” Whatever she’d been planning to say, that sure wasn’t it.

He laughed. A genuine laugh that was cut short by a much bigger flinch than the one she’d caught earlier. “Appreciate the concern, but I’ll live. Few days time I’ll be right as rain. Thanks for stopping by. Do lock the door as you leave.” His eyes shot daggers as he stared at her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” She challenged him softly as she walked up to the table and pulled out the other chair and sat in it. In turn, Spike practically shot out of his chair and stood several feet away from her. That also hurt. He couldn’t even be within a few feet of her? Did he really hate her that much?

“Hate you?” Spike asked, his face seemingly incredulous. She must have said that last part out loud. “You think all of this,” he waved at his face before spreading his arms indicating his apartment, “Is about hating you?”

“Isn’t it?” She asked. Riley had told her that she would need to keep talking to keep him talking. “Not that I’d blame you if it was.”

“Think you’ve got this all backward, pet,” He said. “You should be blaming me.”

“So you do hate me?” She asked again.

“Are you daft? No! I don’t hate you!” His voice was edging close to a yell. “But you should be hating me!”

“Spike, why on earth would I hate you?” She asked, standing up to face him on his level.

“’Cause it’s my…” He started to reply before she cut him off.

“No! You do not get to do that!” She was also getting close to yelling. “You don’t get to play the martyr here. It wasn’t your fault, Spike!”

“It was!” He shouted. “Sooner you figure that out, the better!”

“God, you are so stupid!” She was also shouting, now. “How on earth can you possibly think that anything that happened was your fault?”

“Because I wanted it to happen!”

He seemed to realize the words that had clawed their way out of his mouth, as he recoiled with a look of disgust and looked away. He crossed to the kitchen area in three strides, grabbed the whiskey bottle and sloppily filled the glass before slamming the shot back, then slamming the glass back on the counter.

“I wanted it to happen,” He repeated so softly it was almost a whisper.

To say she was stunned was the understatement of the century.

“You wanted me to die?” She asked in a voice so small, she felt like that scared little girl sitting in her baby sister’s room clutching her daddy’s golf club.

He giggled at that, as sound so mirthless it was chilling before it seemed to morph into a sob that shook his whole body a couple of times before he stopped it.

“’Course not you silly…’course not,” He finished.

“Then what…” She began but stopped as she realized what he meant. “You… You wanted me to…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence as the horror of his confession washed over her.

And suddenly everything made a lot more sense. Him staying away once he found out. Not coming to see her while everyone waited for the inevitable. Not coming to see her in the hospital after.

“And now she finally gets it.” He mumbled. “Welcome to the party.”

“You really do hate me,” She said, more to herself than him.

She’d thought at first that he had been angry with her. She’d been the one to jump him in the hotel room. She’d assumed he felt angry and trapped. That she had forced his hand before he was ready. That he’d hated her for losing what he’d wanted. Apparently, that was what he’d wanted all along.

“Do you even know me?” He asked, once again looking at her like she was crazy. “How could you possibly think that I could ever hate you?”

“How could I not? I thought you loved me! And I was crazy enough to think that you might want the baby!”

“I did!” He shouted as he whipped around to face her, the wet trails on his face gave evidence to his sincerity. “I did.” He repeated more quietly, as he glanced down at his feet. “More than you know.”

What was she supposed to say now?

“Spike? I don’t... I don’t understand. Please, just…”

“Knew it was mine,” He said, turning back to the rapidly emptying bottle on the counter. “Knew it the day Cardboard told me.” He started to pour another shot, but apparently changed his mind. “Wasn’t sure what to think at first. Came at me kind of sideways, you know. Hadn’t thought of that day for weeks, and suddenly I’m a father?”

She heard what sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. After a moment he continued.

“Drove all over town trying to figure out what it all meant. Still wasn’t sure you meant what you said. Wanted to believe it, but doubts creep in, you know?” He filled the glass but didn’t drink it. “Tried to decide if it was good or bad. Would you be angry? Feel trapped? Hate that your choices were taken away? Hate me? Or it? Too many complications, you know? Making a mess of what should have been the best day of my life.” He looked for a moment like he was going to take the shot, then continued again. “’S when it happened.” He swirled the whiskey around the glass. “Started thinking what if? What if something happened? Like the crash, you know? What if I had to choose between saving you or the baby? What if you both...died. Could I keep myself from following after you? What if you didn’t want me to have anything to do with it? What if you didn’t want me? Or it?” He paused. “Then I thought, what if you lost,” His breath hitched. “Be easier. No more complications cocking it all up.” He finally slugged back the whiskey. “Told myself it was just fear and doubt. Normal, right?” He poured another. “’Cept, couldn’t get it out of my head. More I tried not to think about it, the more I did. Then farmboy called and said you were at Memorial. Suddenly all I could think was how much I wanted it. Wanted it more than anything. Wanted both of you more than anything. Would have sold my soul if I thought it would make a difference. Realized then how much of a monster I was for thinking…” He couldn’t seem to finish his thought. He lifted his glass but paused. “How much of a monster I was.” He tipped the glass up and swallowed.

She wasn’t sure what made her do it. She stood from her chair,crossed to Spike, and took the empty glass from his hand. She ignored the shocked confusion and took his face into her hands, and looked him square in the eyes. Well, she would have if he didn’t have them screwed tightly shut.

“Spike?”

He shook his head slightly, a silent “no.”

“Spike, look at me… please?” She asked gently.

He screwed his eyes closed even tighter for a second, before relaxing slightly and opening them slowly to finally look at her. Unspoken questions spoke through his eyes. Did she hate him? Did she blame him? Was this it?

She wasn’t sure what to say, so she leaned in and kissed him. Gently at first and then more pressing. She felt a drop of moisture fall upon her cheek, though whether it was from him or her, she couldn’t say. As she pulled back, she studied his face. She could see the thoughts still swirling around his mind. She waited until he finally opened his eyes again.

“You’re not a monster. You had a moment of weakness, Spike, and you aren’t the only one who had those thoughts. It’s not your fault. None of it was your fault.”

“Buffy… I…”

“Shhhh…” She placed her index finger over his lips. “I forgive you.”

He bent his head down bringing his forehead to rest on hers, his breathing becoming irregular.

“Don’t…” He whispered.

“I forgive you.” She said more assuredly, placing another gentle kiss on his lips.

He shook his head again, another silent “no.”

“I love you, Spike.” She put even more certainty into her voice

He screwed his eyes shut once more.

“And I forgive you.” She was insistent now. Leaning in and placing a more insistent kiss.

“I love you.” She whispered, her lips only a breath from his. “I love you.”

She kissed him once more, soft but sure.

This time, he kissed her back.

Chapter 49

She kissed him once more, soft but sure.

This time, he kissed her back.

It was soft and tentative at first, almost as if he was afraid. His hands were very slowly finding their way to her waist, gently holding her in place. Then it began turning into something almost desperate. His hands and lips were clutching her to him like he needed this as much as he needed air or water. And then suddenly he was gone.

She opened her eyes and looked around in confusion, trying to figure where he’d gone and why. Had she done this all wrong?

He was standing a few steps away, his back to her, his head bowed as he took several noticeable deep breaths, as if trying to calm himself.

“Spike?” She took a tentative step towards him.

“You should go.” His words were half order, half plea.

“I think it’s best that I stay,” She answered him.

“Buffy... please…” Desperation heavily colored his voice.

“What are you afraid of, Spike?” She took another step towards him.

Long seconds passed. She was afraid he wasn’t going to answer.

“Me,” He finally said, almost whispering the answer over his shoulder, but never looking at her.

Damn, he was stubborn. Now what could she say? She’d given him forgiveness already. Why wouldn’t he take it?

“Why?” It sounded like a simple question; but, she suspected his answer was anything but.

He sighed deeply. Almost defeatedly. She took another step.

“Don’t!” He commanded, looking at her sideways over his shoulder. “Please don’t.”

“Was kissing me really that bad?” She asked with unintended defensiveness.

“Yes!” He whipped around to face her so fast that he overbalanced slightly and wobbled, the series of glasses of whiskey starting to take effect. “‘Cause when you kissed me just now, I wanted to do nothing ‘cept drown myself in you and forget the rest of the world even exists! And the last time I let that happen you ended up dead, Buffy!”

“Was only mostly dead,” She mumbled out, as she studied a piece of lint on the floor.

“Mostly…?” He was looking at her, almost dumbfounded. “Is this a joke to you? A game? Is that what this is? A game of kick the Spike?”

“No! Of course not…”

“There is no ‘mostly,’ Buffy!” You. Were. Dead!” He enunciated every word of the sentence as he invaded her space and stared down at her.

“I…” She took a few steps back, suddenly feeling the need for more space between them.

“Dead.” His voice held a sharp edge as he said the word while he took a step towards her. His eyes held a steely glint that said he was dangerous... predatory even.

“No pulse.”

She could hear the emotion beginning to choke him again, and oddly it was starting to choke her as well, but his face still screamed “predator.” She took another step backward and ran right into the table.

“No breath.”

He took another step. She had nowhere left to go.

“No life.”

She looked away from him.

“You... Were... Dead.”

He was just inches away from her now. She unconsciously leaned away from him while clutching the edge of the table for stability, but he leaned in and braced his hands on the table on either side of her body as he brought his mouth to with a whisper’s distance from one ear.

“And I let it happen.”

She couldn’t help it. She reacted on instinct. Her knee came up and connected with his groin with crack shot precision and then she shoved him away as hard as she could, sending him tumbling to the ground. She managed to stop herself somewhere between landing a furious kick to his midsection, and about to land one to his head. As he lay there half growling in pain, she sidestepped him and backed further into the room to take a moment and get herself back under control.

When she had finally mostly shaken off the effects of her adrenalin, she looked at him. Really looked at him. He had at some point retrieved the bottle of whiskey and was now sitting on the floor against the bed. He’d almost done it. Almost pushed her too far. Almost pushed her far enough to make her want to run and leave him there to wallow in his guilt and self-flagellation.

Almost.

A plan galvanized in her head. She took several purposeful steps until she was standing over him. He ignored her and tipped the bottle up to his lips. She reached down and grabbed the bottle, jerking it away from him and sent it shattering off to the side.

“Hey!” He looked at the remnants of the bottle, then glared back at her.

She turned and reached for one of the chairs, placed it at his feet, and pointedly stared at him as she sat down and crossed her legs and arms.

“Tell me,” She commanded.

“Tell you what?” He looked at her with confusion. His words were beginning to slur, and his head was starting to bob a bit with his words. She was surprised it had taken this long for all of the whiskey to hit him fully. She didn’t want to do this with him drunk, but then again it might be the only way for him to get it all out.

“Tell me how you let me die,” She answered. “You want to make sure I understand what a monster you are, so tell me.”

He looked away from her, the muscles in his jaw ticked, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

“Well, killer, you gonna take all night?”

He looked back at her, cold anger exuding from his eyes, but he remained silent.

“No?” She huffed out a scoff at him. “Should have kept the whiskey. At least then I could entertain myself while waiting for your sorry excuses.”

She could see the change in him when it happened. Nothing like offending his ego to get him going.

“Knew what was gonna happen,” He angrily bit out the words. “‘s what I deserved for thinkin’ might be better if...” He glared at the wall behind her. “Knew I’d lose you both an’ couldn’t…” He trailed off and left the sentence hanging. “Longer it went on, worse it got. Just felt it all slippin’ away… you... it…” He paused a few seconds. “Me.”

“Go on,” She prompted when he seemed to not be forthcoming with anything more.

“Tried ignorin’ it. Told m’self was just fear… nothin’ on earth stronger than you.” He stopped again.

“And?” She pushed.

“God Buffy, I wanted nothin’ more than you and...” His face crumbled as he brought his knees up and covered his face with his hands, and she could hear the sobs escaping.

“Finish it.” She felt like an ass for pushing him like this.

He gave a few shuddering breaths and then lifted his head again, and nodded.

“Couldn’t do it. Couldn’t see you, knowin’…” He trailed off, his words starting to slur more heavily.

“Knowing?” She prompted him more firmly.

“Knowin’ what was comin’. Knowin’, it was what I deserved. Couldn’t watch you… ‘cause if I watched you both... ‘f I watched you die… I’d break my promise. Tell everyone and everything to sod off and follow you.” He went quiet then, tears choking his voice off for a moment. “Couldn’t do that. Already broke the first promise, didn’t I? Tha's why you should take it back. Don’t… god, please, don’t forgive me.”

She was off the chair and on her knees pulling him to her, cradling his head to her chest. He wrapped his arms around her and clutched at her like a proverbial sinner clinging to Christ and begging for salvation. He broke down, his body shaking as he wept, begging her to take it back and not forgive him. Exhausted, emotionally spent, and drunk, he eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

Where did she begin? He’d internalized so much. So much guilt, and most of it not even his. He’d been her north star, her guiding light, and now he’d lost his way. Riley, or was it Giles, had been right. He didn’t think he deserved forgiveness, because fate had claimed her as the ultimate price for his moment of doubt. He’d panicked, and his fear and doubt had snowballed into this guilt until he blamed himself for random events. How did she even begin to make up for this? He’d blamed himself for her death when apparently he was actually the one that saved her.

And there it was. A tiny glimmer of hope. She just had to find the right words. She wasn’t sure how she was going to do that, because she and words weren’t always very mixy things. She tended to botch things up. But damn if she didn’t owe this broken soul her life and her love, and she was going to find a way.

She just needed a little bit of sleep first…

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

“Buffy, will you just stop a second and listen to me?” Willow urged as she followed behind her down the hallway. “Buffy, you have to stop doing this!”

“Doing what?”

“Killing Dawn!” She replied with more than a little apparent exasperation.

“Why?”

“Because this never happened! You never killed your sister!” Willow answered.

“Willow, I did this.” It was a simple statement of fact.

“In your imagination! None of this is real!” Willow seemed to be almost pleading with her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She replied as she resumed her course down the hallway of her childhood home.

“Buffy, why are you doing this? Leave Dawn alone!” Willow urged her. “Buffy, what is this?”

“My gift. This is what I do,” She replied. Why wasn’t Willow getting this?

“I’m not talking about this,” Willow said as they entered Dawn’s room. “I’m talking about this!” Willow clarified as they were once again standing in the Magic Box, by one of the bookshelves. “Right here...it happened. I know it's something small, but it's something. What?” Willow asked, as the simple scene of Buffy shelving a book repeated itself over and over.

“Don't go there, Will.” Buffy cautioned her as she watched herself shelve the book yet again.

“I'm not! You're the one who keeps dragging me back here. And you wouldn't be doing that if you weren't trying to show me something.” Willow explained.

“Do I?” She asked. Was she bringing Willow back to this moment over and over?

“Buffy, c'mon. It's your brain. Just tell me. What happened here?” Willow stared at her other self putting up the book.

“This was when I quit, Will,” Buffy confessed.

“You did?” Willow asked, seeming somewhat skeptical.

“Just for a second.” She gave the smallest of sad smiles. “I remember I was in the magic shop. I put a book back for Giles. Nothing special about it. And then, it hit me.”

“What hit you?” Willow asked her other self.

“I can't beat Glory.” She answered. “Glory's going to win.”

“You can't know that,” Willow insisted.

“I didn't just know it. I felt it. Glory will beat me,” She assured her.

“And in that second of knowing it, Will … I wanted it to happen.” The words came tumbling from her other self.

“Why?” Willow looked confused. Who wouldn’t be?

“I wanted it over. This is - all of this - too much for me. I just wanted it over. If Glory wins, then Dawn dies. I would grieve. People would feel sorry for me. But it would all be over. I imagined what a relief that would be. I killed Dawn.” The terrible details of her confession spilled forth.

“Is that what you think?” Willow asked.

“My thinking it made it happen. Some part of me wanted it. And in the moment Glory took Dawn … I know I could have done something better. But I didn't. I was off by some fraction of a second. And this is why… I killed my sister.” And there it finally was, all laid bare.

“I think Spike was right back at the gas station,” Willow said, apparently in a moment of revelation. “Snap out of it!”

“What?” She hadn’t expected Willow to say that.

“All this - it has a name. It's called guilt. It's a feeling, and it's important, but it's not more than that, Buffy. You've carried the weight of the world on your shoulders since high school. And I know you didn't ask for this, but you do it, every day. And so you wanted out for one second, so what?” Willow chided her.

“I got Dawn killed …” She reiterated once again.

“Hello! Your sister? Not dead yet!” Willow’s scoldingly retorted. “But she will be if you stay locked inside here and never come back to us.”

“And what if I can't?” Because she really wasn’t sure at all that she could.

“Then I guess you're right, and you did kill your sister,” Willow confirmed and then turned and walked away.

“Wait.” She called to Willow urgently. “Where are you going?” She really didn’t want her friend to leave.

“Where you're needed. Are you coming?” Willow’s question was equal part question and command.

Was she? Could she. She paused a moment to watch her other self shelve the book once more as Willow’s words spun around in her mind. Yes, she’d given up, and things were so out of control and messed up right now. But, Dawn was still alive, and that meant that she still had a chance. One tiny chance to overcome her guilt and fear and save her sister, and herself, in the process.

Yes, she was coming.

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

She awoke with a start and glanced around, half expecting to find Willow there with her. Instead, she found herself sitting on the floor of Spike’s apartment, his head cradled in her lap. His face a myriad of emotions as he dreamed whatever it was that Spike dreamed about. It didn’t seem to be a pleasant dream, whatever it was.

She had to hand it to her subconscious. The slayer dreams may have started as a defense mechanism for a small defenseless little girl living in a real world nightmare, but they had undoubtedly evolved as she had grown. They hadn’t been about just her for a while now. She vividly remembered the feels she’d had within the dream, how absolutely certain she had been that she had already caused Dawn’s death. Her younger self would have probably taken this dream as reinforcement that death was indeed her terrible gift to others. But now, in light of Spike’s confession, she understood only too well how all-consuming guilt could be when faced with so much loss. And hopefully, now she also understood how to help him.

“You’d have made a hell of a slayer if you’d have been a girl.” She said as she watched him dream, mentally cataloging every movement of his face. “Then again, I can’t imagine not having you as a vampire fighting at my side,” She said, as her fingers absently combed through his unruly hair, and leaned her head back to rest on the end of the bed. “Now we just have to get you back to being the man I know you can be.”

But first, just a little more sleep.

Chapter 50

He woke with a jerk, confused and dizzy. It took him a few seconds to realize he was on the floor in his flat, and not in Buffy’s motel room. He looked at his hands, half expecting to see them covered in blood. And then his head made him abruptly aware of what it thought about the mass quantity of alcohol he’d consumed.

“Oh god,” Spike groaned, holding his head as it felt ready to explode. He sat up slowly, willing his head to stop spinning and prayed to any deity that would listen that his brain didn’t start leaking out of his ears because it felt like that was a possibility at the moment. He managed to stand on shaky legs and stumble his way to the sink. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water and drank it down, hoping it would get rid of the cotton mouth.

“I’d offer you some hair of the dog,” a sleepy voice mumbled behind him. “But, I sort of killed the dog.”

He tried to laugh at that, but the best he could do was a slight huff.

“Too bad, don’t get paid again ‘till Tuesday.”

“Do you really need it?” He was pretty sure she didn’t mean to sound as accusing as she sounded.

“Yeah, well, not all of us get Slayer dreams to help us cope, now do we?” He turned to face her, holding onto the counter for balance. Try as he may, he didn’t think he could drag out his usual swagger right then even if he wanted to.

“You could try talking to me,” Buffy suggested.

He looked at her hard just then. Was she serious?

“Think you already sang that song, love. How about you pick another?”

“Ok, how about this one: Snap out of it!” She said, pushing herself up off the floor and was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What?” She was definitely approaching dangerous territory now.

“You heard me,” She shrugged. “Snap out of it. Move on. Build a bridge and get over it.”

He glared at her. He couldn’t decide if she’d gone around the bend, or if he had.

“Can I ask you a question?” She seemed curious.

“Do I get a choice?” He asked, sinking back down in the floor, leaning against the cabinet.

“Nope!” She cheerfully responded.

He waved at her indicating to proceed.

“Do you think you’re the only one who had those thoughts?” She asked him.

“Don’t rightly care what anyone else…”

“Do you think I didn’t have those exact same thoughts?” She asked, cutting off his reply.

“Buffy…” He started to try and tell her how that was different.

“Let me guess?” She interrupted him again. “That’s different?”

“Bloody right, it’s different!” He was getting a little pissed off that she kept cutting him off.

“So, it’s ok for me to have doubts, fears, and think things would be so much easier without all new and exciting complications? Be frustrated beyond all belief that we were so close to finally, finally, actually communication and moving forward, when of course, of course, I had to be pregnant! Because my life just wouldn’t be complete without yet another exciting way to screw everything up! But it’s not ok for you to feel that way?”

“Yes!” He shouted but then paused. “Wait…what?” He wasn’t quite sure he followed all of that. “Bloody buggerin’ hell, my head…” he pressed the heels of his hands to his temples, hoping the counterpressure might do something.

“Spike, this is nothing more than guilt. Misplaced at that! You did not do this. You didn’t cause any of it. We all have those thoughts, Spike. All of us. You, me, Riley, heck probably every person ever with a surprise pregnancy.”

“You don’t understand…” He mumbled out.

She laughed. Really laughed. Long and loud and hard, and it only increased the pounding in his head.

“What’s so bloody funny?” He asked, feeling damn weary just then. He was really wishing that she would just go so he could just crawl into his bed and forget all about this damn day.

“Here all this time I thought you were the one person in this world who really knew me,” She said, as the laughing died down to a steady giggle. Normally he would have thought it adorable, but right now it felt like little icepicks jabbing into his brain. He couldn’t think of a good come back at that moment, so he settled for glaring at her.

“You really think that I don’t understand about guilt? About thinking that you’ve caused the deaths of everyone around you? Of the people you love most? That the only thing you can do right is hurt the people around you?” Her voice and expression had softened by the time she got to the end of it.

Ok. Well. Maybe she had a point. A small one.

“Spike?” She called his name, more softly and reverently than he’d heard her say it in a long time.

He looked up at her. She was smiling at him for some reason.

“Can I ask you another question?” She asked gently.

He nodded.

“Who found me in that alley?” She asked, just as gently.

He peered at her for several long seconds before finally answering. “Know where you’re going with this, Buffy.”

“Whose idea was it for you and Angel to check on me every day at the shop?”

“Not the point, love,” He replied.

“Who found the car? She asked, still soft but resolute.

“Paramedics.” He countered.

“And got you and Giles there in time to…” Her breath caught. “Got there in time to say goodbye?” She got down on her knees at the foot of the bed.

“Buffy,” He leaned his head back against the cabinet, hoping she took the cue to stop.

“Who held me every night when I had nightmares about Angel?” She moved a little closer to him.

“Stop,” He quietly urged.

“Who took care of Michael and Dawn when I couldn’t?” She inched even more toward him.

“Buffy, please,” He put a little more urgency into it, looking away from her.

“Who picked me up in the quad when I completely lost it?” He could feel she was even closer now.

“Stop!” He was through asking, eyes closed, still not looking at her.

“Who helped me understand my affinity for broken glass?” He could almost feel her breath now as she spoke.

“No more!” He ground out. “Stop!” He turned to face her again, finding her just inches away from him.

“Who helped me see myself through his eyes when all I could see was a broken and shattered person?” He could definitely feel her words against his skin.

“Buffy…” He closed his eyes, begging her to stop.

“Who found me at the motel just in time?” She finished so softly, it was almost a whisper.

He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. His vocal cords didn’t seem to be working proper.

She put her hands on either side of his face and turned it towards her. She held him there for what seemed like forever until he finally opened his eyes and looked at her.

“All you’ve ever done, Spike, is bring me back to life.”

It suddenly felt like all the air had gone from his lungs, his heart had stopped beating, his mouth was a desert, and none of his muscles would respond. Couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. His head still felt like it was about to explode, but whether that was the whiskey or the overload she’s just sent his brain into was anyone’s guess. And then reality came crashing back in.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He tried to wrench his head free while pushing her back away from him. He managed to push himself back up to stand, and then took a few steps away from her. It was always easier to think when there was more distance between them.

“So,” Buffy stood up and made her way back to the bed, sitting on the end again. “It wasn’t you who came to my house every day, and kept me sane? And it wasn’t you that noticed every single bruise and mark and acted like none of it even touched me?”

He started pacing. He really wanted to get out of this room that was getting smaller and smaller by the second.

“It wasn’t you that spent countless hours listening to me talk about everything my dad did, and then getting me to talk about my mother, or heck even Angel, so I’d be happy again? It wasn’t you that convinced me those idiots couldn’t touch the real me? That Angel still loved me? Brought him back to me? Tried every single day and night to get me to feel something again after they all died? After I came back? Taught me I am so much more than the sum of all the things that happened? Gave me life?”

Suddenly he was stopped in his pacing when he bumped into a tiny little immovable wall that was standing there, arms crossed, staring up at him with fire in her eyes. No, make that a blaze.

“It wasn’t you that willed me back to life?”

He could only stare at her in confusion. Is that what she thought? That somehow in those moments he’d held her lifeless body, pressed her heart to his own, silently begged and pleaded with her to come back to him, that somehow his will had called her back to life? As beautiful as that thought was, he knew it wasn’t true.

He brought his left hand up to caress her cheek, and his skin hummed with the contact as she nuzzled into it briefly.

“Not the way it works, pet.” He smiled sadly at her. “Me wishing it had nothing to do with you coming back.”

She smiled. And it slowly grew. Though, he wasn’t sure what he’d said that have been funny. And then she cocked that eyebrow of hers in that infuriating and adorable way. What was so damn… bloody hell.

“Dirty pool, love.” He smiled.

“Learned it from the best.” She smiled even wider. He couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I missed that,” She was suddenly very serious.

“What’s that, love?”

“You. Smiling and laughing. I missed my best friend. Is he coming back, because I really could use one right now?”

He took his hand back and ran it through his hair. Too many thoughts were suddenly trying to run around his mind, and it was already protesting loudly that it was tired and ready to bore an exit hole through his skull.

“Maybe. Right now, think I need some time, and sleep.” What else was there to say?

“Sounds like a plan! It’s still really early, and I’m not loving the idea of walking back to the house alone in the middle of the night.” She answered.

“Oh. Yeah, right. You, uh, want me to call a cab? Not exactly driving condition at the moment.”

“Actually, I was hoping I could stay,” She asked hesitantly, as she walked over to the bed and sat on the edge.

Oh.

“Sure. Yeah. You, you, uh, you take the bed.” He looked around. “I’ll take the, uh, comfy chair.”

“Actually,” She was looking at him with such open vulnerability. Something he rarely saw from her anymore. “I was hoping you’d hold me?”

He tried to read her intent. Normally it was an easy thing to do. But with everything the way it was, he just wasn’t sure anymore. She didn’t seem to be expecting anything other than what she’d asked, but…

“Yeah. I can do that.” He let out a shaky breath as she climbed to the middle of the bed. He climbed in next to her and held his arms open. She curled around him, molding herself to him, laying her head on his shoulder and her legs slightly covering his. He folded his arms around her and held her as she drifted off to sleep, allowing himself to fully take in this moment. The feel of her wrapped around him, trusting him as she slept. And then he allowed sleep to claim him once again.

Chapter 51

“You left him there?” Riley still seemed perplexed.

“Do I need to put it in ASL? Ancient Etruscan?” She’d called him up and asked if they could go for a drive. He’d readily obliged, asking as they headed out what had happened, and she’d already told him everything a dozen times.

“I just… can’t wrap my head around it.” He answered from the driver’s seat. “You got through to him, you snuggled, and then you just… left?”

“You’re really having difficulty with this.” She didn’t get what the problem was. “What was I supposed to do? Jump him? Take advantage of him? He was hung over, Riley.”

“No, no, I get that. But maybe you could have, I don’t know, stayed and talked with him once he woke up?”

“What more was there to talk about?” She’d got him to understand he wasn’t responsible. “He said he needed time and sleep, so I gave it to him.”

Riley smiled and shook his head, but never took his eyes off the road.

“You really are adorable,” He finally said. “And clueless.”

“Hey!” She protested.

“I’m serious, Buffy. Think about it. Did you ever ask a guy to give you some time?”

“Yes.” She hesitantly answered, wondering where he was going with this.

“Did you mean it? That you really wanting time and then everything would be all better?”

She stared at him. He really was getting to be a little too perceptive. What happened to the nice, clueless, handsome guy that she could just pretend everything before had been a bad dream? Oh right, she’d dragged him into said dream.

“I’m betting you were using “time” to try and avoid facing things? Am I right?” He asked.

“I’m sorry,” She answered. Suddenly trying to forget what they had been talking about and needing once again to apologize for dragging him into everything.

“I know,” He answered. “But, am I right?”

“Yes,” she conceded, looking out into the endless night sky.

“You think Spike’s any different?” He asked.

Was he? Did he really ask for time just to get her off his case and let him keep trying to move on? And that thought suddenly filled her with more than a little dread. Was he still trying to move on? Had he finally given up?

“Let me answer that for you,” He interrupted her thoughts. “He’s not any different. He’s confused and still trying to wrap his head around everything and probably wants to just forget any headway you two made because it would be a whole lot easier than fixing things between you.”

“But, I thought we did fix things?” She asked, confused. Hadn’t they?

Riley laughed. A genuine, full on, no holds barred laugh.

“You really are adorable, Buffy.” He smiled over at her. “So, what? You think now you two just fall back in line like none of the last year and a half happened?”

“No!” She only sounded a little petulant. “Maybe?”

“Buffy,” He pulled the car over onto the shoulder and put it in park, then turned in the seat to face her. “Can I ask you something?”

Oh no. Curious Riley was usually not of the good. She didn’t want to tell him no, but she also didn’t want to say yes.

“What are you afraid of?” Apparently, he didn’t need a yes or no.

“I’m not afraid of anything!” Her voice didn’t seem to sounds as certain of that as she would have liked it to sound.

“Try it again with less panic this time,” He smiled.

She sighed as she looked out at the void of darkness. What was she afraid of? Why had she left the other morning without even waking him up or saying goodbye? She hadn’t even left him a quick note or anything.

“Buffy?” He gently prodded.

“Honestly?” She turned and looked back at him. “I think… I’m afraid I’ll hurt him. That I don’t know how to start all over with all of this stuff between us.”

He seemed to think about that for a while. It gave her some time to think as well.

“How did it feel, Buffy?” She quirked an eyebrow in question. Which part? All of it? The fights? The crying? The kissing?

“When he was holding you?” He clarified. “No obligations or expectations, just you two holding each other and sleeping?”

She hadn’t tried to think about it too much. It was… confusing. She really hadn’t expected anything more, just wanted him to hold her. To feel the strength and tenderness of him wrapped around her. To be able to hold him without some horrible reason driving her to seek comfort. Just wanting to feel him, and have him feel her. She’d thought maybe he might feel how much he meant to her, without feeling obligated to give her anything more. Not that he wouldn’t if she asked him.

“You’re smiling,” His statement broke through her jumble of thoughts. “So… how did it make you feel?”

“I don’t know if I can describe it,” She answered honestly. “You know I’m not good with words. It was…” She trailed off again, allowing the same feelings to wash over her. “It’s not something I can really put into words.”

Riley nodded, seeming to somehow understand what she meant. He turned back around and put the car in drive. He pulled back onto the highway and kept driving without asking her any more questions.

She leaned her head back against the seat, letting the cool night air wash over her. As the gentle hum of the road and the soft vibration of the engine purring as Riley drove lulled her into relaxation, she allowed the fatigue and tension melt away and she drifted off to sleep.

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

“The last time I looked in on you two, you were fighting to the death. Now you’re back to making googly-eyes at each other like nothing happened. Makes me want to heave.” Spike aimed his barbs at her and Angel.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She hedged, studiously toeing a rock next to her foot.

“Oh, yeah. You’re just friends.” Spike smirked.

“That’s right,” Angel answered him.

“You’re NOT friends. You'll never be friends. You’ll be in love till it kills you both. You’ll fight, and you’ll shag, and you’ll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you’ll never be friends.” Spike pointed to his head. “Love isn’t brains, children, it's blood.” He brought his hand down to his chest over his heart. “Blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love’s bitch, but at least I’m man enough to admit it.”

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

A hand on her shoulder woke her from her slumber, her head slowly swimming to the surface in confusion. Another slayer dream, but it was interrupted before she could finish it, much less process it. She’d think about it later. Right now sleep was calling her back.

“Buffy,” The hand shook her a little more insistently.

She opened her eyes, seeing Riley’s soft blue-grey eyes staring back at her, and smiled.

“We’re here,” He smiled back.

She stretched languidly, enjoying the relaxed feeling.

“Five more minutes?” She asked teasingly. Much as her bed was calling her, she really didn’t want to go back in and rejoin the effort of trying to fit back into things at the house with Giles pointedly trying not to make her feel nervous about everything while Dawn did her best to criticize everything she did or didn’t do. It was going to be a long hard road to repairing that relationship.

“Sorry, think it’s time for sleeping beauty to finally wake up.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but his smile looked as little more rueful than usual. Sadly accepting something. What had she missed? Had she said something in her sleep?

That was when the background behind Riley clicked in her brain. They were not at her house. She quickly glanced around confirming her suspicion. Yep. They were at Spike’s apartment. She leaned her head back on the seat again with a groan.

“Buffy?” Riley was trying to get her attention.

She rolled her head to the side, knowing he was going to say whatever it was whether she wanted him to or not.

“I want you to know… you’re the first girl I ever loved.”

“Riley, don’t…” Fear climbed inside her as she got the distinct feeling she knew what was coming, and she wasn’t ready for it.

“Some part of me always will love you,” He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “And I’ve done everything I can to help you…”

“But?” She’d closed her eyes, not wanting to see his face as he spoke. She wasn’t sure she could hold it together if she did.

“But it’s time for you to take the next step...on your own. I can’t do this for you. And as much as I want to be there for you… you don’t need me. Not anymore.”

“What if I can’t…” She started to plead with him.

“You can.” His voice seemed so sure. Why wasn’t she as sure as he was?

“I don’t know what… how…”

“You do, Buffy. Just go in there and let your heart do the rest. It’s like open mic night. Stop over thinking it and just let it come.”

She cracked one eye open and peered at him. “You do remember how that ended, right?”

“I do,” He didn’t cover his flinch before she caught it, he gazed away and didn’t look back.

She stretched her arm across the seat to take his hand in hers, and gave it a squeeze, drawing his attention back to her. She wasn’t good with words, but she hoped he could read what she was trying to tell him.

“I…”

“Don’t.” His breath caught. “Don’t apologize. Our time together was… I’ll never forget it. And I don’t regret it. Neither should you.”

“I don’t. Just…”

“Not even that, Buffy. Even with the way that everything turned out, for a little while you made me the happiest man alive. But now it’s your turn. Go. Let yourself be happy.”

She squeezed his hand even more. She understood, even if it did feel like a huge part of her life was coming to a sudden end. And some part of her was already beginning to understand that it meant a new part of her life was about to begin. And it wouldn’t be happening without Riley.

“Thank you.” It was simple. Elegant. Honest.

He smiled and stared deeply in her eyes for several seconds, before suddenly turning away. He cleared his throat and suspiciously acted like something was in his eye.

“Well, what are you waiting for? That door isn’t going to open itself.” He gave her a watery smile.

With one last glance at him, she pulled the car door open and stepped out. She turned and closed the door, wishing she could find the words to thank him for everything he’d ever done. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing would come out.

“It’s ok, Buffy. I know. The future’s yours, now. Make it what you want.” He offered her one last smile, put the car in gear and backed out. She stood there watching tail lights fade in the distance. A sense of deja vu washed over her, remembering the last time that happened and thinking her life was over. This time, however, she hoped it was just beginning.

Chapter 52

Well, time to begin the rest of her life. And every journey begins with a single step they say. So why weren’t her feet moving? Traitorous feet! She closed her eyes and focused her breathing. She could do this. They could do this. Could they do this?

“Planning on standing there all night?” Spike’s annoyed voice cut through her thoughts and brought her back to the present. He wasn’t looking at her. God, this could go so many ways, and most of them led to badness.

“Right then. Never mind me,” He said, pulling his Zippo out of his pocket to light the cigarette perched between his lips. She watched as he took a deep drag and held it in, seeming to relish the smoke and whatever sensation he got from it.

“Why do you do that?” She asked, genuinely curious. For the first year, he tried to hide his smoking. Now, however, not so much.

“Do what, luv?"

She nodded her head and looked straight at the cigarette.

"Smoke?" He pulled the cigarette away from his lips and looked at it, a frown crossing his face as if he hadn’t really ever thought about it.

“Don’t rightly know. Suppose it started as a way to help me focus. Give me something to do with my hands besides ripping my hair out.”

Well. That didn’t go the direction she thought it would.

“And the whiskey?” She really wished her mouth would check with her brain before saying these things.

His eyebrows shot up, and he looked straight at her, “Seriously?”

She didn’t answer.

He sighed.

“What’re you doing here, Buffy?” He asked, tossing the cigarette onto the sidewalk as he toed it out with his boot.

“I… that is, we... “ She began, suddenly unable to make her mouth say any meaningful words.

“Look, Buffy, you don’t have to say anything,” He interrupted.

“I don’t?” Wait, why not?

“I get it,” He nodded. “Just needed a bit of cold comfort is all. Glad to be of service. Now… If you’ll excuse me…” He turned to walk back into his apartment.

“You’re a dope, Spike!”

He froze, then turned and looked over his shoulder at her, a deadly look if ever she’d seen one.

“You heard me! You’re a dope! A great big dopey dope!”

“Buffy, luv, don’t take this the wrong way but,” He turned to face her. “Are you stoned?” He asked, clearly incredulous that she’d called him a dope.

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? Make it easier to ignore?” She retorted.

“What in bleeding hell are you going on about?” She wasn’t sure if he was angry or confused.

“You, you dope!” She answered. “I came here tonight to apologize and to tell you that I want us to start over and that I want the rest of my life to be with you. But you’re being a dope, so now I’m not so sure!” She was on the verge of yelling at him in her annoyance.

Now he was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. Crap, had she actually said that she wasn’t sure? Way to open mouth and insert foot, Buffy!

“Argh, I’m doing this all wrong.” She covered her face with her hands. Why couldn’t she ever get things right?

“That’s a bloody understatement,” Spike answered.

She looked up to see him turning back to his door again. “Give us a shout when you finally suss it all out, yeah?” He called to her.

“I have sussed it all out, Spike, that’s what I’m trying to tell you!”

“Buffy,” He sighed, “I don’t know what it is that you think you’ve sussed out, but I doubt it’s…”

“We’ll never be just friends, Spike,” The words flew out of her mouth in desperation as the dream came into focus in her mind’s eye.

He turned to face her once again. His face seeming skeptic of what she might say next.

“Not that we aren’t friends. You’ve pretty much always been not just my best friend, but the most honest, most caring, and no matter what happened I could always depend on you. To tell me when I was being stupid, or that I was right, or to save me when I couldn’t save myself. I don’t want us to ever lose that.”

“You don’t?” He asked hesitantly, almost crestfallen.

“You’re not friends. You’ll never be friends.”

“But we’re not just friends. We’ll never be just friends.” She smiled as the irony hit her that she was using his own words on him. Except, they weren’t really his, were they? Riley was right. It was all inside her if she’d just listen.

“You’ll be in love 'till it kills you both.”

“We’ll be in love until it kills us both, Spike.”

“In point of fact…” He started, the tiniest of smiles turning one corner of his mouth.

“You’ll fight, and you’ll shag, and you’ll hate each other 'till it makes you quiver, but you’ll never be friends.”

“We’ll fight, and we’ll shag,” His eyebrows shot up at her use of the word, and she couldn’t help the tiny giggle. “And we’ll hate each other until it makes us quiver.”

Actually, she had a little quiver just then.

“But we’ll never be just friends.”

Suddenly her feet seemed to have a mind of their own again as they carried her closer and closer to Spike, who was standing there staring as if he couldn’t believe the words she was saying.

“Love isn’t brains, children, it's blood.”

“Love isn’t brains, Spike, it's blood.” The rest just seemed to spill out naturally. “Screaming inside you to work its will.”

It was like she was under a spell as she closed the last distance between them and leaned her head up to finish. She took his head in her hands, a palm gently holding each cheek.

“I may be love’s bitch, but at least I can admit it.”

She was all in. She leaned up on her toes and kissed him, pouring every last cell of her being into the kiss.

It only took a moment before she felt him responding. Hesitantly at first, his hands coming up to circle her waist. Then deeper and deeper, she could feel him pouring himself right back into her. Finally, he broke the kiss but continued to hold her tightly against him.

“Think you’ve got the list bit backward,” He grinned. “If anyone’s love’s bitch it’d be me.”

“Who do you think gave me the idea?” She grinned at him brightly, drawing another confused look from him, before she leaned in and kissed him again.

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

God, she was glorious. All passion and heat and glowing and pressed up against him in the most delicious way he’d always fantasized, and kissing him like she could pour her soul into him with just that one kiss.

He’d been initially curious when he’d heard the car drive up, only to see her and the giant oaf making all sorts of eyes at each other. And then she’d climbed out and he’d left her standing outside his door.

He’d watched her stand there. Was she warring with herself? Was she here to finally tell him she’d chosen Captain Crew Cut? Was she here to say her final goodbyes, and then wait for her dashing lug to come and scoop her back up?

He’d thought that maybe, just maybe, they’d both put all their cards on the table. He’d fallen asleep holding her. No worries. No what next. Just being there with her in his arms of her own accord. And then when he woke up the next morning, she’d scarpered off. Brushed him off and left him yet again.

Well, if she was here to send him packing, he could save her the trouble.

Except, then she’d gone all righteous on him like he was touched in the head. Maybe he was. And then she’d started in on the whole “never be friends” bit, and as addled as it sounded, hearing her use the word “shag” and all, it had made a clear bit of sense. And now he was back to the part where she kissed him.

‘Love’s bitch,’ eh? Well, he couldn’t argue, he was at that. And here he was, ready to give it one more go in the hopes he’d read everything right. If the second kiss were any indication…

Christ if she kept that up he was going to teach her a new appreciation for the word shag!

“Buffy?” He pushed her back to arm's length. He had to know. Really. Did she mean it?

She just smiled up at him. Eyes shining like the sun. Was he imagining this?

He pushed her away and let go of her, scrubbing his hands across his face. Needed to slow things down a bit and clear the air.

“Spike?” Her voice somehow held both fear and certainty. Of what he couldn't tell.

“Not out here,” He said, stepping back a few feet and opening the door to his flat, waving for her to enter.

She looked at him, eyes full of questions, but complied. He took a deep breath, blew it out, and then followed her in, shutting the door behind him.

They both faced each other and then started to speak. After a second of what looked like internal debate, she indicated for him to start.

“Buffy, I’ve wanted you for so long. Dreamed of holding you every day as I did the other night. I’ve held out hope for so long, watching you go after others, waiting and think that the next time, I’d be the one. But it never was. So, don’t take this the wrong way but you can’t blame a fellow for being a little gun shy.”

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked him. Apparently not getting the message. Then again, he hadn’t exactly given her the message, had he?

“I mean… A man has his pride, Buffy. I can’t do this. Not unless I know that you really mean it. I can’t keep jumping in the deep end just to find out you’re not even in the bloody pool.”

She seemed to consider that for a moment. Bollocks. Had he just cocked it all up? Well, if he had, better to do it now than after, right? Maybe?

She turned away, and he felt his last shred of hope tear.

“Did I ever tell you that I don’t believe in 'happily ever after'?” She asked, her back turned to him, making it impossible to figure out where she was going with this. He racked his brain. Had she?

“Sounds familiar,” He answered honestly. Suddenly wishing for a little alcoholic lubrication for wherever this was heading.

“When I was a girl, my mother used to read me fairy tales. Stories about princesses and their princes coming to carry them off, where everything was beautiful and everyone got their 'happily ever after'.”

He sighed. “Go on.”

“And then she died.” She paused for a few seconds. “For so many years, I wanted that so badly. Wanted my prince to ride in, slay the dragon, and carry me off on his noble steed and together we’d be happy and free. Happily ever after.”

She was wandering around his flat now, her small and delicate fingers tracing over everything she came across.

He may not have any liquor, but he needed something to drink. He filled a glass with the tap, wishing for all he was worth it was whiskey instead.

“I thought for the longest time that Angel was my prince and one day we would ride off into the sunset, getting our happy ending.”

He damn near choked to death on his water at that. She definitely was going to be the death of him. He set the glass on the counter and backed away, choosing to watch her as she moved about the room.

“And then when I was laying there pinned to that freezing cold floor in that laundry room, knowing with every bone in my body that Warren and Tucker were going kill me, I knew. There was no such thing as happily ever after. There was no prince coming to rescue me. No kiss to wake me from my nightmare. They were all just… dreams. Fairy Tales meant to fill the heads of silly little girls with things that could never happen.”

He could only look at her dumbstruck. He remembered, now. She’d said it in the hospital room when he’d given her the ring back.

“And then I woke up. In a hospital. They said you’d found me just in time. Not my prince. You. I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t get my head around it. I needed my prince but he couldn’t find me. You had to find him for me.” She looked at him and smiled. “And I thought, maybe… just maybe, there might be a happily ever after.”

Was she expecting him to say something?

“And then he was gone. No more prince. No more happily ever after. All the beautiful stories shattered in an instant. But there you were, picking me up once more.”

He had the grace to bow his head as looked at him again.

“So I stopped believing in fairy tales. Decided that there was definitely no happily ever after. Not for this girl. I could beat all the odds, defy death, slay all the demons thrown at me here and in my dreams, but there would be no happily ever after. Not for me. Not ever.”

“Not that it isn’t riveting, but I know the tale, Buffy. Memorized the music and all.”

“Ah, but you don’t know the ending.” She smiled sheepishly. “See, the princess in this story was blind. Too many accidents. Too much confusion. Too many threats to the kingdom by outside forces. Treason from inside forces. So all the time she’d been looking for her prince, she had no idea that he’d actually been standing right next to her all along. Even when he’d rescued her, even when he’d kissed her and brought her back to life, she still didn’t really realize that her real prince had been there with her the whole time. It took her a very long time and kissing a lot of frogs, and an annoyingly insightful psychology TA, to help her learn to see again.”

“And the ending is...?” He asked cautiously.

“Well, as much as the princess had loved all the other princes, she realized that none of them had really known her or loved her like the one who had been there all along. So one night, she finally went to him and told him how much of a fool she’d been, and how she’d been so selfish, and stubborn, and blind. And she begged him to give her just one last chance. Because deep down… like way deep… bottom of the ocean deep, she really did still believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny possibility that happily ever after really might actually be possible,” She paused a second, then turned to face him. “But only if it’s with you.”

He blinked, trying to process everything she’d said. She’d certainly taken a circuitous route, but he thought he got the long and short of it.

“Buffy, are you…”

“You know,” She stared at him, again seeming to war with herself. “I had this idea in my head that we’d start slow… get to know each other. Do the whole dating and movies thing. But the more I think about it, the more I realize we’d be going backward. So… can’t we just skip all that awkward stuff of trying to ignore what’s right in front of us?”

“So,” He paused, waiting to see if she was going to keep going, or let him finish, but she seemed to be waiting for an answer. “What is it you’re wanting?” Dare he hope? No, better that thought should be left unconsidered than shot down. “What are you saying, luv?”

“I’m saying, Spike, that I’m in love with you. God, Spike, I’ve been so blind. Can you forgive me? Because I don’t want to wait any longer. I want the rest of my life... to be with you. Only you. Always... you.”

He closed the handful of steps between them and hauled her into his arms, crushing his lips to hers in what was probably the most ecstatic kiss he’d ever had in his life.