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So what’s a man to do when he finds himself suddenly buried inside the love of his life? He could spin them round and use the wall behind him for leverage, drawing on the desperate passion of the moment. He could take the few steps that would place them on the bed, making the moment as tender as it should be. He could move them over to the chair, letting her have all the control she seemed to need. Hell, he could even just sink them to the carpet and go at it like crazed rutting weasels.

Or, apparently, he could do nothing except stand there with a look of confused awe on his face.

Well, who could blame him? He’d been expecting her to hit him, not shag him. Which brought Spike back to his initial question of what to do, and added another question to it… Why? He desperately struggled to hold onto his fleeting thoughts as the beauty he held, began moving around him. He needed to get control of the situation, and he needed to do it now!

Snapping out of his stupor, he took them over to the bed and eased them down onto the comforter, deciding this was where he would have the most control. He didn’t want to begrudge Buffy her control, but he needed to do this right if there was any way he was going salvage any kind of future for either of them.

“Buffy, not that I’m complaining,” Spike uttered as he managed to pry his lips from the determined kissed and feisty nibbles Buffy planted along his lower lip. “But, what are you…”

“You said to do something about it,” Buffy explained. Giving him a hard, questioning look. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” She asked, her eyes changing from their earlier certainty, to confused hesitancy.

Spike lost his tenuous grasp on the tiny shred of hope that Buffy had done this for the right reasons. A long sigh escaped him as he sank forward, resting his weight onto his forearms. He let his forehead drop to the bed next to her as his lips caressed the tender curve of flesh between her neck and her shoulder.

“Why did you think that, luv?”

“But...I thought you,” Buffy’s tremulous voice grew more confused and her movements ceased. “But, I felt you… your body… it…and, and mine…but, everyone… I just wanted…”

Buffy had just disjointedly given Spike all the information he needed, and he cursed every bastard who’d ever laid a finger on Buffy. From her father who punctuated his words with his fists, to Riley who’d probably fallen for her unwitting siren's call. Each one had used her form, in one way or another, to communicate their feelings. Whether it was anger, contempt, or love. Her body had essentially become her only means to controlling her world, her best way of connecting. That was why she’d been so damn desperate for Angel’s touch after the rape. She'd had no idea how to connect.

And suddenly her disappearing act made a lot more sense. She’d become so dependent on the physical part of her world, she must have been terrified when she no longer felt she had any means of control. So she left, in search of that control, that power, again. And now she’d learned to wield that power well.

So, the question now was, how does one de-program someone who doesn’t even realize they’ve been programmed? Spike almost laughed as that thought emerged. He’d answered the question just by asking it.

“I… I just wanted…”

“You wanted what?” Spike began, his head popping up to look her fully in the face. “To show me what you want? Hmmm… let’s see now, you’ve made no overtures of love, so that rules out lovemaking. That pretty much just leaves mindless fucking as the other option. Right then, best get busy,” He finished matter-of-factly, as his body started doing just that, in hard, detached, movements of an automaton performing its assigned task.

His actions had the desired effect, as within a minute Buffy began to react. She’d tried flipping them over, so she would be in a position of control, but he hadn’t let her. Spike simply squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to keep himself from caving in and gathering her tenderly into his arms.

“No…Spike stop, this isn’t…this isn’t what……stop it!”

Spike froze, and pulled back a little as he looked at her. He put on his best expression of confusion and cocked his head to one side. “But, isn’t this what you’ve been wanting? To connect?”

Buffy looked stricken for a moment, then looked away.

“No,” Spike commanded, “Look at me, Buffy!”

When she failed to respond, Spike took her face in one hand and gently turned it toward his own. When she still kept her eyes averted, he whispered softly, “Please look at me.”

When she finally met his eyes, he could easily see the fear and questioning in their depths. ‘Now! Tell her now, you dolt!’ His brain screamed at him.

“I… I though you…wanted me,” Buffy whispered.

“God, Buffy, of course I do,” Spike grinned, as his thumb gently caressed her cheek. “I’d have to be a bloody eunuch not to. But, not like this,” Spike said, as he rested his forehead against Buffy's forehead.

“I, I don’t under…” Buffy frowned.

“Buffy," his voice a pleading prayer, "What I want, is for you to feel love, real love. I want you to love life, and every moment in it. I want you to be happy, and healthy, and whole. I want you to be the woman I know you were destined to be. *That* is what I want. And this," Spike's gently surged deeper into Buffy, "has nothing to do with any of that."

Buffy blinked up at him a few times, before opening her mouth to reply. But before she could form any words, Spike brought his index finger to rest on her mouth.

“Shhh,” Spike effectively silenced her as his lips replaced his finger in a gentle caress of a kiss before he withdraw from he and then rolled them over, bringing her to rest across his chest. “Didn’t say it to get anything back from you. Rest, it’s been a long day,” Spike said as he placed a kiss on the crown of her head.

He could feel that her brow was still marred with confusion. But eventually he felt her begin to relax, and her breathing slowly evened out until she finally slipped into sleep.

**********

Buffy scanned the book of sonnets Angel had given her for her birthday. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“You really like it?” Angel asked hesitantly.

“Of course I do. It's sweet and thoughtful and.... full of neat words to learn and say like 'wilt' and 'henceforth'.” Buffy answered. She’d never considered herself a big scholar, but she liked literature and it was a very thoughtful gift.

“Then why'd you seem more excited last year when you got a severed arm in a box?” Angel gave her a half grin.

“I'm sorry,” Buffy distractedly apologized. The whole situation over her powers had her off-kilter and now she’d insulted Angel’s gift. It was a banner week all around. “It's just, suddenly there's this chance that my calling's a wrong number, and... it's just freaking me out a little.”

“That's understandable,” He conceded.

“Angel, what if I have lost my power?” Buffy’s fear and frustration colored her voice.

“You lived a long time without it. You can do it again,” Angel assured her.

“I guess.” She didn’t feel as confident. “But what if I can't? I've seen too much. I know what goes bump in the night. Not being able to fight it...” Buffy closed her eyes and suppressed a shudder. What would she do without being able to fight? Without being able to control the fight?

“What if I just hide under my bed, all scared and helpless? Or what if I just become pathetic? Hanging out at the old Slayer's home, talking people's ears off about my glory days, showing them Mr. Pointy, the stake I had bronzed,” Buffy pouted.

“Buffy, you could never be helpless or boring, not even if you tried,” Angel smiled.

“Don't be so sure.” Buffy hesitantly proceeded, “Before I was the Slayer, I was... Well, I, I don't want to say shallow, but... Let's say a certain person, who will remain nameless, we'll just call her ‘Spordelia’, looked like a classical philosopher next to me. Angel, if I'm not the Slayer, what do I do? What do I have to offer? Why would you like me?”

Angel appeared to consider that thought a moment. “ I saw you before you became the Slayer,” He softly confessed.

“What?” Buffy blurted, clearly not expecting him to say that.

“I watched you, and I saw you called. It was a bright afternoon out in front of your school. You walked down the steps... and... I loved you.”

“Why?” How could he have loved her without even knowing her?

“Because I could see your heart. You held it before you for everyone to see, and I worried that it would be bruised or torn. And more than anything in my life I wanted to keep it safe... to warm it with my own,” Angel finished.

And with that thought, Buffy began to wonder if maybe she could make it. Even without her powers. As Angel enveloped her in his comforting embrace, she thanked him for his support. “That's beautiful. Or taken literally, incredibly gross.”

“I was just thinking that, too.”

Buffy suddenly leaned back, when the voice she heard no longer matched the body she held, only to see she was mistaken. It did match. It was Spike who was now holding her.





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