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Spike had been out when Buffy returned from school that day, and when he got home, he found her sitting on the couch, staring at the wall. Her face was red and splotchy, making it obvious that she had been crying.

"Are you all right, pet?" Spike asked, walking over and sitting beside her.

Buffy wiped at her eyes, trying to smile. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. Wanna talk?"

"You don't want to hear about my problems, Spike."

"Sure I do. And it helps to talk things out, you know."

Buffy looked at him, the softness and concern on his face making her want to open up to him, even if it was just a little. She'd always held things in, tried to make herself be strong, but at the moment, she wanted to be vulnerable. "It's not even really my problem, I guess. I just…Mom just called."

Spike frowned. "You two had a falling out at some point, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that's not what this was about. She just called to tell me that my best friend from junior high and part of high school got sentenced to life in prison today. I haven't really spoken to her since, well, pretty much since she started on the path that led her to prison, but…she used to be my closest friend, you know? We were like sisters. To think about her now, rotting away in some jail cell—even if she did kill a guy—is hard."

"Your mum say what happened?"

"Yeah. There was this guy she started hanging with in high school. He was older than her by a lot, and everyone thought they were having some sort of illicit affair. She already had a rep for being, um, less than chaste. But I don't think they were. She told me it wasn't like that, and I believed her. Her parents were horrible, and she was just so desperate to have some sort of parental love in life that she looked past what a sleezeball this guy was. I remember one time when we were first friends, she spent the night at my house. My mom came in to say goodnight, and she hugged both of us. When she hugged Faith, well, she held my mom so tight that for a moment I didn't think she was going to let her go. Even then as a kid, when I didn't really understand how rough things were for her at home, that made my heart hurt for her. She was desperate just to have some hug her, to show even that much affection."

Spike had taken her hand while Buffy was talking, noting that it was shaking. Buffy didn't pull away. "This bloke she fell in with—he the one she killed?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. According to the news, it was for him though. He'd gotten into some sort of trouble, and someone was going to turn him into the cops. Faith killed the guy before he could say anything. Wilkins—the bastard—of course went and said that he had nothing to do with it, and that Faith was just a 'very unstable girl.' Tried to pretend that she had some freaky obsession with him, and that he barely even knew her. But then when the truth started coming out, he disappeared—probably left the country. He was everything to her—she killed for him—and he just threw her to the wolves."

Spike rubbed her hand soothingly, and Buffy had the sudden urge to curl up in his arms and beg him to make all the hurting stop. The gentleness in his eyes made her believe for a moment that he could. But she pushed the thought away as foolish. "You know what really gets me?" Buffy said after being quiet for a moment. "I feel like I could've helped her. That I should've paid more attention to her spiraling downward in high school. That maybe if I'd been less caught up in my own drama-rama I could've saved her."

"Sometimes you can't save people, Buffy. No matter how hard you try or what you do, some people are just going to keep going down that self-destructive past."

"Why?" Buffy asked, the tears coming again. "Why can't I save the people I love? Why do I just get them killed instead?"

"Get who killed? This Faith girl isn't dead, is she?"

Buffy paled and snatched her hand away from Spike. "I didn't say anything about anyone dying."

"Um, yes you did, pet. You said 'Why do I just get them killed instead?'"

Buffy pulled her knees up to her chest. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Buffy, you need to…"

"No! God, I've done the talking, and the therapy, and none of it fucking helped, all right! So why don't you just mind your own damn business!" Buffy got up and went into her bedroom, slamming the door and leaving a stunned Spike on the couch.

*** *** ***

Several hours later, Buffy reemerged from her room. Spike could tell that she'd been crying for probably the whole time she'd been in there, and he couldn't bring himself to be upset at her for her earlier outburst.

"I tried to kill myself."

Spike looked up sharply. "What? Now?!"

Buffy giggled, although it sounded almost hysterical. "No. After…after graduation. You mentioned earlier about my mom and me having a 'falling out.' That was why. I tried to kill myself, and she sent me to a mental institution. I was there for about a month, and then I came here and went to school. Sorry for my freak attack earlier, but I guess all of this just stirred some stuff up. You're not mad at me, are you?"

Spike tried to absorb what she'd just told him. He'd known she had some badness in her past, but he wasn't quite expecting that. And to top it off, he had a feeling that what she'd just told him was only scratching the surface. "No, kitten, I'm not mad."

Buffy smiled, a little too brightly. "Great. Hey, I'm starved, and I really don't feel like cooking. There's a great pizza place nearby that delivers. Wanna splurge a bit?"

"Buffy…"

"Spike, really, I'm fine. I just want pizza, okay?"

Spike knew that pushing her anymore tonight wouldn't be a good idea. He'd known that Buffy was emotionally fragile despite her attempts to convince the world around her otherwise, but now he realized more to what extent that fragility went. And if there'd been a suicide attempt, well, trying to force things out of her probably wouldn't be a good idea. "Pizza it is then. My treat."

"You don't have to…"

"I know, but I want to." Spike gave her a grin that made Buffy forget for a moment that she'd even been depressed. "So, Miss Summers, what do you like on your pizza?"

*** *** ***

Buffy and Spike sat on the floor of the living room, the mostly-empty pizza box between them. "So," Buffy asked, wiping grease off her fingers with a napkin, "How exactly did you end up with a nickname like Spike anyway?"

Spike swallowed the bite of pizza he'd been chewing. "Oh, that. From torturing my victims with railroad spikes," he replied casually.

Buffy gaped for a moment. "You are kidding, right?"

Spike did his best evil smirk. "Would you sleep better with me in the apartment if I said yes?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You are such a freak. And you're not going to tell me about the nickname are you?"

"Nope."

"Jerk," Buffy muttered, reaching for another slice.

"Oi! Heard that."

"I meant you to." Spike's napkin flew from his hand across to her, bumping lightly against her forehead before tumbling to the ground. "Hey! I upgrade that jerk to a, um, super jerk." Spike raised an eyebrow, and Buffy couldn't help but start laughing.

Spike smiled, loving the way she sounded when she laughed. It was a sound he rarely heard, and it was beautiful. "Think you could hand me my napkin back?" he asked.

"No way. This thing is a weapon in your hands, mister," Buffy replied, wagging the rumpled paper napkin at him.

"Fine," Spike said with a shrug. "I'll just wipe my hands on your carpet."

"Oh no you don't!" Buffy replied, throwing the napkin back at him. "There. Just greasy hands off the carpet."

They went back to their dinner, and after a moment, Buffy put her half-eaten pizza slice on her plate, her mood obviously becoming somber again as she picked at the toppings. "Something wrong?" Spike asked.

"I…I was thinking about Faith," Buffy said. "She doesn't get to do this anymore. She's in a cell right now, all alone in the world. She can't sit with a friend and eat pizza and goof off. Even if she manages to make parole in who knows how many years, she'll never be the same. Her life is ruined. Forever."

"That isn't your fault. There's nothing you could've done. Nothing. You didn't force her to listen to that guy, and you certainly didn't put the weapon in her hand and set her off to kill anyone."

"It's just, well, what if I had done things differently? What if I gotten my mom to let her stay with us, given her a chance at a normal life? Would she be in prison right now? Or would she be here with us, laughing, too?"

"You can't beat yourself up over the past, Buffy. It's useless—nothing about it will ever change. Just wasted energy."

"But what if there's something in your past so bad that you can't help but beat yourself up over it, Spike? Then what? What if there's something so horrible there that it tears at you constantly, shadowing everything you do until you just can't stand it anymore? How can you live with that?"

"This isn't just about Faith, is it?"

Buffy stood up. "I'm going to bed. Can you clean up?"

"Buffy…"

Buffy didn't listen to him, only going into her room, shutting him out again. Spike sighed and started cleaning up what was left from dinner.

*** *** ***

He could hear her crying. It was soft, muffled, but he could hear it nonetheless. Spike sat on the couch, willing himself not to go to Buffy. She obviously didn't want him coming into that part of her life, despite the small bit of opening up she'd done.

As the sound of her tears got louder, Spike couldn't take it anymore. He went into her room without a word, getting into the bed with her and wrapping his arms around her. Buffy stiffened for only a moment before she let herself be held, sobbing against Spike's chest. He smoothed her hair, murmuring soft words to her until the tears died down and she fell asleep in his arms.

*** *** ***

Spike woke when he felt Buffy scrambling to get out of his embrace. She sat up, a wild look on her face, and he wondered for a moment if she was going to hit him. But then realization seemed to set in, and she relaxed a little. "Didn't expect to wake up next to you," she said. "Made me a little…disoriented."

"I noticed," Spike replied, sitting up as well. He tried to push down his hair, knowing it had to be a mess.

Buffy's tongue darted out to lick her lips as she saw him run his fingers though his sexy, tousled curls. She shook her head, pushing those thoughts back to the part of her mind marked "denial" where she had decided to keep them. "I'm really sorry about last night, Spike. I don't know what got into me."

"Your friend got sentenced to life in prison, Buffy. That entitles you to a little bit of freaking out." Spike gave her a soft smile.

"Still… Thank you for being so nice to me—and for helping me fall asleep. You didn't have to do that."

"Sure I did. What sort of friend would I be if I just left you in here by yourself to cry all night?"

Buffy smiled, looking down to escape the intensity of his eyes. "I…I know I was a bitch at first, but I'm glad you're here, Spike. And not just because I have groceries now."

"Even if all I was to you was a little more money coming in, I'd be happy to be that. And hey, I found out yesterday that Devon is officially out of the Dingoes, and I'm officially in, so I should be able to help out more with the bills now. They get booked fairly regularly."

"That's great!" Buffy said, looking back up at him. "And not just the bills thing, although yeah, that's gonna be nice, but that you found a band to play with."

"Yeah, I'm happy about it. And they're willing to look at some of my songs and think about adding them to their shows, so that's a plus for me, too."

"You write songs?"

To Buffy's surprise, Spike blushed slightly. "Some. I…I could use a lot of work on them, but some are decent."

"I'm sure they're better than decent," Buffy said, playfully slapping his arm. "Think maybe you could play some of them for me sometime?"

"Maybe," Spike said.

"What, so you're willing to play them in front of a room full of strangers, but not me?"

"Exactly. Your opinion means much more to me than a stranger's."

"It does?"

"Well, yeah. I care what you think."

Buffy looked at him for a moment, wondering when exactly he'd gone from someone she barely tolerated to a friend. He'd shown her a softness below all his tough-guy exterior, and she'd found it impossible not to warm up to him. She glanced over at the clock, frowning at the time. "Dammit, I missed my first class."

"You probably needed the sleep," Spike said. "I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"Yeah, but it was with Walsh, the bitch professor from hell." Buffy sighed. "I better get ready before I miss the next one, too."

"You sure you're up to it?"

Buffy forced a smile. "I'm fine, really. Yeah, hearing about Faith got me all wigged, but I'm good now."

Spike didn't believe her for a second, but he didn't want to do something that would cause another breakdown either. "All right. I'll go back to the couch and let you get ready then."

Buffy nodded. As Spike stood up, she said, "Thanks again for everything last night. That…meant a lot to me."

"Just glad I could be here," Spike replied before leaving her alone in the bedroom.

*** *** ***

Sorry this one's so short, but it was sort of draining to write. Leave me a review and let me know what's on your mind.





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