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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here it is folks, the idea that set up home in my head, months before I worked up the nerve to put finger to keyboard. This idea has been screaming at me since long before I made my smutty debut and I’m so glad to have finally written it down. This is my baby... my own personal gripe fic, and my attempt to right the Spike bashing wrongness of series six!

Beta’d by Dawnof me

I hope you enjoy your trip into the Spuffy loving land of denial that is my brain, and thank you to dawnofme, amyxaphania, maryperk73703, ssddgr and dragonflylady for your help and encouragement to bite the bullet in the first place. *hugs and kisses*

“I’m sorry.”

Of all the words to leave Buffy’s mouth tonight, those were certainly the least expected.

Spike inhaled sharply and stared in confusion at the sincerity that overshadowed her features. “What the bloody hell for?” he asked, incredulous that she felt the need to apologise to him. Surely he must have misheard her. What on earth could she possibly feel the need to repent for?

“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did," she said, visibly struggling to articulate her thoughts. “Since I’ve been back, my friends... I know they’re worried about me but I just can’t—they make me feel so...” Buffy’s words faded away and she ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation. “God, I’m no good at this talking thing.”

Slowly, Spike raised her hand to his mouth, dropping an affectionate kiss against her knuckles. “You’re doing fine, sweetheart,” he said. “Take your time. We’ve got all night.”

Encouraged by the patient resonance of his voice, Buffy inhaled a deep breath and started again. “You’re the only one who’s kept me sane since the resurrection. Willow and Xander are constantly asking me if I’m okay. If I forgive them for what they did. And every time they ask, I’m forced to put on a fake smile and act grateful when all I want to do is curse and scream and make them tell me what the hell they were thinking by bringing me back!”

Her lips curved into a sad smile, and she gently squeezed his hand. It was important that she get this out. The anger she felt towards her friends was like a white-hot ball of fire. It constricted her throat, preventing her words of umbrage from reaching fruition. If she was to positively move on with her life, there could be no more secrets between herself and the extraordinary vampire.

“You don’t pressure me or try to change me into something I’m not. It feels like I’ve spent the last five years on a pedestal and now everyone expects me to be fun Buffy again, as if my unhappiness is an inconvenience to them.” The bitterness in her tone was unmistakeable as she gamely forged ahead. “When I’m with you... I don’t have to pretend anymore. You see me, Spike. As much as I may hate it at times, you see right through my act. And that means so much more to me than I can ever say.”

Spike listened to her heartfelt speech in astonishment as unforeseen words of gratitude poured from between her lips. It was only when his vision became impaired that Spike noticed the moisture that brimmed in his eyes. Tears had become his constant companion over the summer, and noticing that he was crying was no longer any more note-worthy than recognising his hunger or the routine setting of the sun.

Swallowing hard, Spike stroked his thumb over the back of her hand and blinked against the tears that threatened to spill over.

“You’ve got nothin’ to apologise for, love.” Spike’s tone was subdued and he looked away as if ashamed. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this God-awful situation in the first place.”

Bewilderment washed over the Slayer as she absorbed his uncomfortable demeanour. Spike had previously confessed that he felt responsible for her death. At the time, Buffy was too numb to respond effectively, but recent events gave her unique insight to the inner workings of his mind, and the need to correct him was imperative.

“It’s like I told you the other night, pet. If I’d been faster or smarter, if I’d just done something—anything different...” A deep sigh escaped from his lips, and Spike continued hesitantly, his shoulders visibly shaking under the weight of his words. “If I’d got your little sis down from there, you wouldn’t have had to jump in the first place... I let you down.”

“Spike! That’s not true, you—“

“I promised you, Buffy,” he interrupted. “I swore that I would protect her.”

“And you did!”

Spike shook his head, adamant in his refusal to believe her words. His mind was overcome with fragmented images of that fateful night. He could see it all so clearly. Dawn, bound and helpless atop the tower. The catastrophic breach of that hell-bitch’s bloody dimension portal, and Buffy... God, Buffy—

“Christ, pet,” Spike gasped and raised his head to meet Buffy’s concerned gaze. “Seeing you there, lying in the light where I couldn’t reach you. I wanted to dust... I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to hold you and wait for the sun to burn me up, leave this piece of shit town for the bloody vultures to pick over.” In the overwrought recesses of his mind, Spike knew it was unwise to mention her sacrificial death, but the floodgates had opened, and he was unable to impede the torrent of emotions that swept through him. “I couldn’t face the thought of a world without you in it. I don’t even know who dragged me away that mornin’.” Spike paused as a shudder wracked his tense body. “Truth be told, pet, I don’t remember much of those first few days. I just wanted to get blind stinkin’ drunk and forget.” A solitary tear won its bid for freedom and coursed down his cheek. Spike swiped at the offending moisture and gave a self-depreciating shrug. “Didn’t work though, every bloody time I closed my eyes I pictured your face. Every night... every night I saved you.”

His shoulders hunched as Spike retreated further into his haunted memories. “I visited your grave,” he whispered. “Each night—after patrol, I’d walk by and hate myself even more, knowin’ that I could have stopped it, knowin’ it was my fault. If I’d gotten your sis away from that bitch—if I hadn’t bollocksed everythin’ up.” The expression on Spike’s face was pure, unadulterated anguish as he berated himself for his misconceived failure. “If I’d done as you bloody well asked of me, then you wouldn’t have had to jump. And then your stupid, soddin’ mates wouldn’t have raised you... and you wouldn’t be hurtin’ so much now. It’s my—”

“Spike, look at me.” Buffy brought her palm beneath his chin forcing his eyes to meet hers. “You protected my sister with your life. You stood up to Glory. You did as I asked. Dawn’s alive. You took care of her and you kept taking care of her when I was... gone.”

Buffy couldn’t bring herself to use the word, dead. In light of the progress she’d made this night, that term seemed almost malevolent. An ominous portent that threatened to draw her back into the vacuous oblivion of despair.

Buffy sighed, gazing into the vulnerability that swam in his eyes. “The First Slayer told me that death is my gift. I think a part of me knew my time was up, even before I stepped foot on that damn tower. I can’t explain how, Spike, but I knew I could trust you to take care of her if I...”

Buffy’s thumb traced the angular contours of Spike’s face as he swallowed hastily in a valiant effort to fight back his tears. “Dawn told me what you did over the summer. How you stayed with her... helped her cope. How you patrolled with my friends and kept them safe.” Buffy paused as she considered their recent song and dance extravaganza. “And have you forgotten that you saved my life the other night?”

“From Sweet?” Spike shrugged, dismissing his significant role as he cast his gaze downwards, refusing to meet her eyes. “If I hadn’t stepped in, then someone else would have.”

“Nobody else even tried,” she whispered, desperate to make him see reason. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be a big ol’ pile of ash!” Buffy’s brow furrowed as she considered the irony of a vampire saving the Slayer from a dusty fate, and chuckling, she shook her head. “You were the one who did all that stuff, Spike. You. Face it, somewhere along the line, the Big Bad has turned noble. Sounds like you’re officially a white hat now.”

The look of alarm that flashed in the vampire’s eyes was almost comical, and Buffy’s lips curved into a wide smirk. Mimicking his position, the Slayer tilted her head to the side and burst into riotous giggles at Spike’s admonishing growl. “Ooh... Angel’s gonna be pissed, ” she said in a singsong voice.

As was often the case, the mental image of the Great Git wearing a face like a slapped arse brought an instant smirk to Spike’s mouth. Buffy noticed the involuntary action and her lips broke into a knowing smile.

“I’m not soddin’ noble,” Spike murmured, kicking at the ground impetuously. “I’m a vampire, not a bloody white knight.”

“Really?” Buffy fought to stifle her amusement. “Well answer me this, Spike. How many vamps would sit through an evening of chick flicks just to make the Slayer’s kid sister happy? How many would let Dawn paint their nails just because she used the kicked puppy routine?”

Spike frowned and hid the aforementioned fingernails within his clasped fist. Okay, maybe the chit had a valid point but still...

“I’m curious,” Buffy said, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “How many times did Dawn make the big bad vampire watch Titanic, anyway?”

Spike groaned as her well-chosen words pulled him out of his maudlin state of mind. “God, pet, don’t bloody remind me! What is it with you birds and that DiCaprio poof, huh? I swear if I have to hear the Niblet spoutin’ off about the purity of their soddin’ love bollocks one more time...” He took in the self-satisfied grin on his girl’s face and shook his head in reluctant defeat. “Sneaky bint.”

“Made you smile.”

“That you did, love.” Spike reached up to remove Buffy’s hand from his cheek, enfolding it in his firm grip. A rich chuckle fell from his lips and he was taken aback by their surprise role reversal. “Least I got the Bit to watch Passions with me. Reckon that’s something.”

“Oh, yeah,” Buffy said, sniggering at his indignant glare. “That show’s definitely something. ”

“Oi, watch it Summers.” Spike replied, as reluctantly, his lips quirked into an enthusiastic grin. “That show’s a bloody classic! Emmy winnin’ material, that is.”

She blessed him with an indulgent smile. “So what’s the excuse for the Sex Pistols CDs lying around her room then?”

Spike snorted in disgust. “What can I say, love? That girl has no bleedin’ taste. Got sick of listenin’ to that pathetic excuse she calls music, so I figured I’d expand her horizons.”

“Did it work?” Buffy asked, already knowing the answer.

“Did it hell! That chit’s more bloody stubborn than you are.”

“Hey!” she replied, “I am not stubborn, I’m just... set in my ways.”

“Uh, huh.” A teasing smirk curled Spike’s lips as he raised a scarred eyebrow in silent rebuttal. “Sing me another one, pet. That one’s got bells on.”

Buffy relaxed as the playfulness returned to Spike’s eyes. Their effortless slip into familiar banter had visibly diminished the tension in his tightly coiled body, and the Slayer felt a sense of achievement at this seemingly arduous feat. “You did a good thing, Spike. You took care of Dawn when she needed you most.” Angling her body towards him, Buffy placed her hand on his arm, and even through a layer of black leather, her touch warmed him, branding him as hers and hers alone. Teasingly, she licked her lips, and a spark of mischief shone in Buffy’s eyes as she flashed him a smirk that rivalled his own most sinful offering. “Just think of yourself as her Big Bad Babysitter.”

“Oi!” Spike’s shout of protest splintered the ambient silence of the night. “Less of the bleedin’ cheek or I’ll show you just how bad I can be.”

The musical lilt of Buffy’s giggle was enough to make Spike’s long-dead heart thunder in his chest. He watched with undisguised awe as she threw her head back, highly amused by his indignant objection. This was a Buffy he’d never had the privilege of interacting with before. Throughout their relationship, her smiles and jokes were reserved for her friends, not the annoying soulless vamp in the background. How things could change so fundamentally in such a short period of time, he would never understand. But one thing was certain, for the bestowal of these few cherished moments, Spike would be eternally grateful to a God who had long since forsaken him.

”She really loves you.” Buffy’s voice was little more than a whisper, and Spike detected the sudden increase of her heart rate. He watched, transfixed, as her cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of pink and something unreadable passed over her eyes. Hurriedly, Buffy averted her gaze and released her affectionate hold on Spike’s arm. Despite her heart’s cautious inclination to hazard a relationship with another vampire, her Slayer mentality wasn’t quite ready to take that final leap of faith. Spike considered her abrupt withdrawal, and studied her with such intense scrutiny that Buffy could feel his eyes on her despite her refusal to meet his all too perceptive gaze.

“Buffy?” Spike’s tone was laced with insecurity and he swallowed audibly as he decided how best to voice his suspicions. “What… How do—”

“I wanted to kill myself,” Buffy froze, eyes widening in horror, as her words caused a palpable shift in the air around them. Where they came from she didn’t know, but in her haste to avoid Spike’s anticipated question, the Slayer blurted out the one secret that remained concealed from him.

She knew his preternatural senses would detect her body’s traitorous reaction and hoped to distract him before he could quiz her further. Granted, confessing her suicidal considerations was very much not of the good, but the words had erupted from Buffy’s mouth without conscious thought and it was impossible to take them back. So yeah, in hindsight, probably not the best move, but at least it was out there—at least he knew. Nervously, she watched as Spike’s sun-deprived features adopted a considerably more ashen tone, and a look of sheer panic flared in his eyes as he silently regarded her.

“The first night,” Buffy continued quietly, unable to meet his worried gaze. “I dug my way out and everything was so chaotic... I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t want to be here, I just wanted to get back.”

Upon her disclosure, Spike’s good humour disappeared instantaneously as an iron grip of terror constricted his heart. His useless lungs felt paralysed at the thought of losing his goddess for a second instance. He’d barely survived her death the first time. If she left him again, there was no power on earth that could keep him rooted to an existence without her by his side. He entertained no delusions that he would see Buffy again in whatever afterlife awaited him. When his time was up, Spike was headed for an eternity of the hellish torment he’d so liberally dished out over the years.

Of that he was certain.

He’d try his damnedest to endure for Dawn’s sake, but deep down Spike knew the sweet lure of oblivion would prove insurmountable... even if Buffy was guaranteed to haul his sorry arse up to heaven and kick his unworthy self from one side of those pearly gates to the other.

“I climbed back up Glory’s tower.” The Slayer’s eyes were dull and distant as the memories of that dreadful night played through her mind like a macabre slide show, and a bittersweet smile tugged at Buffy’s lips as she remembered her sister’s pleaded words. “Dawn talked me down, told me I had to be strong... that she needed me.” A sudden shiver wracked her petite frame and Spike reached out his hand to move her blonde tresses away from her face. She offered him a tremulous smile and took his hand in hers. Carefully, Buffy laced their fingers together and gained enough strength from the simple connection to continue her divulgence.

“The tower was collapsing around us but all I could think about was jumping. I thought I was in hell... I didn’t want...” Shaking her head, Buffy raised her eyes to meet Spike’s watery gaze, “It was all so clear the first time. The portal was open and my blood would close it. The math was simple enough even for the brain of Buffy to understand.” She gave a self-depreciating shrug and a small smile curled her lips as optimism returned to her voice. “And on that bizarre note of extreme unthinkyness... am I seriously trying to tell a vampire about the significance of blood?”

Spike couldn’t help the small chuckle that burst from his throat as he remembered the speech he gave to the annoying whelp all those months ago.

Blood is life, lackbrain. Why do you think we eat it? It’s what keeps you going. Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead.

“Blood is life.” Spike said, mimicking his internal discourse.

Buffy smiled sadly and pictured her sister clinging desperately to the unstable structure. “With Glory, I died so that Dawn could live. But that night—she wouldn’t have made it down the tower on her own. I had to save her. She needed me.”

“Still does,” Spike said, as her words caused an ominous shadow of foreboding to cloud his brain. “Niblet needs her big sis, pet.” Spike was hesitant to ask the question at the forefront of his thoughts, but he needed to be sure, as much for his own peace of mind as hers. “Buffy, do...” he paused, unable to disguise the anxiety in his voice. “Christ, pet, you don’t still feel that way do you? I mean, you wouldn’t...”

Shaking her head, Buffy squeezed his hand and searched his eyes, marvelling at the concern that swam in their depths.

“No, I don’t,” she said, her voice even and sincere. Determinedly, Buffy met his gaze, willing him to see the certainty of her words. “I found something worth living for.”


Chapter End Notes:
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review. I really appreciate it :)



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