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"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.





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