=Carefully to Tread= =Part 2=

Buffy doesn't bother knocking this time she just enters quietly. She finds him sitting in the same spot, still clutching the nearly empty bottle.

"Spike, we need to talk." She approaches him cautiously.

"Not sure we do, luv." He says, his voice a touch more gravelly than usual. "Think we've said everything, yeah?"

"No, Spike, we haven't said nearly enough." She squares off with him and he doesn't respond, only stares.

Buffy studies him. She can see that he's been crying. And she admits to herself why. Why he said no, why he walked…or ran…away. Her eyes are open. Why hadn't she understood this before? He's said 'it' so many times she's lost count.

He's in love with her.

Buffy looks at him and notes the fear in his eyes...and the longing. She realizes for the first time that the fear bothers her more than the other. She walks towards him and crouches down at his feet; sitting a few inches from him. He straightens up, preparing for who-knows-what, but looks over her head, unable to meet her eyes at such close proximity.

"Spike." Buffy reaches a hand towards his leg, but withdraws it. "I'm…sorry." He turns to her, unsure if he heard her correctly. Is the Slayer apologizing for something?

"For what?"

"For not...believing you." She thinks she sees a smile forming on his lips, but it vanishes.

"Don't apologize for that, Slayer, because you've always believed me. You just didn't want to." The honesty in that statement stings. She can't even think of how to respond, but he doesn't give her the opportunity.

"If you want to apologize, apologize for something you've actually done. Apologize for bein' too hard on yourself. Apologize to Dawn for not letting her in. She's your sis, and she loves you more than anythin'…more than anyone."

"More than you?" She asks softly and the question startles him into silence. He swallows and then shakes his head and looks away.

"What do you want from me, Buffy?" His voice is slightly above a plea, but it effectively fills the room.

"Nothing." She matches his tone.

"Well that's bloody obvious, isn't it?" The bitterness takes both of them by surprise, him more so. He sighs. "I'm not going to…to do…what you want me to do."

"And what is it, exactly, that you…think I want you to do?" She lifts her chin. He runs his gaze along the length of her body and then meets her eyes with the most openly pained expression she's ever seen.

"You want me to help you feel…something." She doesn't respond, but he hears the rapid thump of her heart beat in his head like a war drum. "I won't. I can't."

It's these last words that confirm what she's been denying all this time. Spike is just a man. A man in love...and she's been using him a like an emotional crutch with no regard for his feelings at all.

It had been all too easy for her to pretend he didn't matter, that he was incapable of being hurt by her actions. It was almost an afterthought for her to follow him out into the street and suggest…what she had suggested.

But now.

Now she sees that there is more man in this being than monster and she can no longer deny that it has been this man that she's turned to when she's been at her lowest.

Buffy curls her legs up, moving closer to him…close enough to touch…and rests her hands on her knees, her chin on her hands, and looks up at him with eyes wide open.

"Spike." He responds to his name on her lips with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before landing in hers. He doesn't recognize this look. It isn't loathing. Not hate. Not disgust, it's…almost…it's like…

"Spike, I'm sorry; for everything. For not telling them the truth, especially Dawn. You're right, I-I should have told her- at least." She looks at the peeling paint on the wall. "I guess…I guess it was easier telling you." She looks back over to him and can see the thought forming behind his eyes.

"Yes, it was partly a total disregard for your feelings, and I was so wrong for that, but Spike…" She sighs. "It's also because I knew you wouldn't push." He rolls that around in his mind, but doesn't interrupt this rare experience: the Slayer opening up to him. To him! Buffy watches him for a moment and then summons the courage to finish what she now realizes she's started.

"I'm really attracted to you." Spike's eyes widen at the admission but then he frowns. She half-expects a snarky remark, but he stays quiet. "I think you know that. And it would have been so easy for me to get caught up in that...mutual...lust...but it wouldn't have been fair to you. You…you care for me and-"

"I love you." She stares at him for a moment before she nods.

"I know that now," she whispers. Spike laughs softly.

"Yeah? What tipped you off?" She smiles and rolls her eyes. Ok. She can do this. This isn't going to be so bad. She looks up at him again; noting the faint smirk on his lips, and is suddenly very nervous. He seems to pick up on it, because the smirk is wiped away cleanly.

"Now that I…get it…what I want to know is why."

"Why?"

"Why do you…feel…that way, I've never given you a reason to." Spike looks at her so intently that she silently gasps. He sets the forgotten bottle down and slides off the chair onto the floor, sitting across from her. He reaches for her hands and she doesn't pull away. He glances up into her eyes and she sees more of the man than ever. Shy, polite, charming. Beautiful.

"I told you why, Buffy." His tone is full of light reproach, a result of having to repeat the oft-sung phrases in an attempt to assure her of his devotion. "You're the first person in over a hundred years to treat me like a man. You're the first," he swallows audibly. "You are...the first one, the only one, to help me remember what it's like to be alive, to feel alive. You…your energy. Your sunshine. Your life, Buffy, you're my life because all I've ever known is death." He rubs the backs of her hands lightly, sending pleasurable chills throughout her body. Electric.

"You gave me back my life, Buffy." He smiles and shrugs, shaking his head as if it is the world's most commonly known fact. "How could I not love you?"

Buffy feels the tear slide down her cheek. She swallows and looks away until she feels his hand brush it lightly away and turn her face back to him.

"I'm in love with you." His voice is barely above a whisper. It is intimate and powerful. "I don't want anything from you, really I don't, nothing that you don't want to give me, but…I think you…feel…something for me too." He pauses to search her eyes. "Am I wrong Buffy? You can tell me I'm wrong, and I swear it'll be okay. I'll still be here for you and the bit. I just can't be…with you the way you asked me to be…I couldn't have that part of you and not have all of you. I would…it would...kill me."

Spike's fingers catch more of her tears. They long to linger on her skin a little longer, and Buffy finds herself wishing that they would.

"Spike."

"Buffy, believe me. I…I would never push you into something you don't want. I would never hurt you. I just…want to be allowed to love you. Please. Don't ask me not to love you. I don't think I could stop even if I wanted to."

Oh god. How…how does she merit such tenderness? She, Buffy - the epitome of battle-weary soldier; a cold and distant killing machine. How can she accept this fragile gift and not shatter it beneath her stylish-but-sensible boots? She doesn't know what to do with another person's heart. It's like holding a newborn baby. You have to be very careful and know exactly how to protect it without smothering it. She's no good at subtleties, at niceties. She's bitter and jaded and oh so tired. She wants the warmth and light and protection of that place, not the endless fighting and the apocalypse du jour. And yes, she knows it's selfish to want to skip out on her duties, but she had been done. Done. Finished. Resting and peaceful and calm, with every assurance that life and her friends and family would go on happily without her.

But now she's back, and thrust into that world that she once fought so hard to preserve and finding that it doesn't hold the promise it once held. Is she expected to fall back into line, to resume her regularly programmed life as a superhero and not have any of this affect her? Is she expected to feel all warm and fuzzy towards these people that tore her out of Heaven?

She's forgotten how to open up, how to let go and feel...something. Anger, joy, hungry, sleepy. Tired...she knows tired. Knows it intimately. But love? Sharing love?

What does she know of that? How can she let a man into her heart when she's lost the key?

And Spike…Spike is so unlike any man she's ever known. He is a fierce warrior: proud and deadly. He is a sensitive poet: wounded and open. He is her worst enemy and, quite possibly, her best friend. He knows her better than anyone. Better than she knows herself. More importantly, he loves her. Really loves her, no conditions. No demands, other than allowing him to give her this precious miracle.

She realizes that she's come to rely on him the way she never thought she could. And it isn't a fairytale; it's ugly and real. It's life with all of its warts and demons. He pulls no punches, calling her on whatever he sees her trying to get away with. He tells her in no uncertain terms when she's behaving like a spoiled brat. And although she may resent it at the time, his words always resonate within her; striking a chord inside that says 'he's right.'

Spike has become the one. That one person, in the entire world, that she can be herself around without fear of recrimination or fear of being lionized. Without being expected to behave a certain way; as if things were normal. As if she didn't feel like falling to the ground in tears at any given moment. His quiet, and sometimes not-so-quiet, strength is what has sustained her in those rare moments of reflection.

What would she do without his strength, his passion…his ridiculous humor? His love?

Buffy knows that if she continues to push him away, taking everything he offers and giving nothing in return, that it will only be a matter of time before he grows tired. Before he stops caring…stops loving her. And, oh god, she doesn't want to him stop. Does she? No! She never wants him to stop loving her.

"I don't want you to." The words spill from her lips without preamble and Spike's mouth drops open. He stares at her, a look of pure incredulity on his face.

"What?" His voice fails him.

"I…I don't want you to stop, Spike."

"What do you want then, luv?" Buffy removes her hands from his and buries her face in them. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs. Spike slides over next to her and pulls her into his arms. "S' ok, pet…let it out. I got you. Shhh." He runs his hand over her back in soothing circles, kissing her hair. He silently memorizes the feeling of having her in his arms for the first, and maybe the last, time.

"I love you Buffy." He whispers into her hair, gently rocking her in his arms. "I'll always love you. Always. Shhh. S' alright, luv."

Buffy's fingers curl around his arms as she grabs on to him, burying her face in his chest. She is overwhelmed with the sense of being protected and loved. She fears that she'll never want to leave this safe haven. And why would she ever leave? Because it isn't right? No. It feels very right. It's because she's always been afraid of what others might think or say. Everything that Dawn said is true. She has been a coward.

She pulls back from him and hears the soft, involuntary sigh he makes in protest. Buffy wipes her face with her hands and finds Spike's fingers helping her own. She looks up into his eyes and a wave of emotion bubbles up inside her. He must see it in her eyes because he has the most amazing expression of wonder on his face.

She reaches up a shaky hand and traces the scar on his eyebrow with her fingertip. Spike just watches her, afraid to move. Afraid to speak or even to breathe. Buffy flattens her hand against the harsh outline of his cheekbone; so severe and so pretty, his face is. Her eyes roam all about it, taking in every detail. They are mere inches apart, so close that Spike can inhale her exhalations.

Buffy gazes into his eyes and decides to let go; to drop the stone wall that she's been hiding behind and show him what's inside her. When she does, she sees the tears form in his blue depths. She smiles. She cradles his face in her hands and slowly pulls his head down to hers. Just before their lips meet, he turns his head.

"Buffy, I told you…I can't." He rests his head on her shoulder.

"I don't want you to, Spike. I don't want to use you." She whispers into his ear, caressing the nape of his neck with slender, shaky fingers. "I want…I want to be with you." He looks up, pulling back enough to see her entire face.

"Buffy?" His voice is tight, strained. She smiles again and tilts her head, regarding him.

"You were right, Spike. Dawn was right…I do…feel for you." The joyous look on his face takes her breath away. She feels a great weight lifting from her shoulders. "You're the only one I've been able to talk to since I came back. You're the only one that can get me to open up; the only one that can make me laugh…make me smile.

"I don't know why I didn't see it before. Even last year, you were the one that was always there for me. I sometimes wonder where we would be today if I hadn't…" She looks down. "I don't know if…if we're meant to be…together, Spike. And I'm not sure if I'm ready for the big R word, but…" She gazes into his eyes which are now flooded with tears. "I do know that I need you, William. I need you and I care for you. I do. I can't promise anything, but please…please don't turn me away. Give me a chance?"

Tears fall unchecked from both of them as Spike takes her face in his hands, wiping away the clear liquid as quickly as it appears while she returns the favor. His gaze falls on her mouth. His eyes ask hers for permission and then he leans in and softly brushes his lips against her. He smiles against her and moves back, studying her expression, smoothing away the damp strands of hair from her forehead. Her breathing is hard, her heartbeat speeding along in her chest.

The kiss, however brief, had been full of more promise than she realized any kiss could be. She wants more, but she is also afraid of the emotions it is stirring inside her. This is more than need, this is desire. The force of it disorients her; she has to close her eyes.

"Are you alright?" The timbre of his voice is suddenly smoky and deep. She can only shake her head, partly to clear it. She looks up at him again and has to clear her throat before she can speak.

"No. I'm…" She pulls back and moves to stand. Spike quickly gets to his feet, concerned with her retreat. "This is more…intense…than I thought it would be, I-" She won't look at him, but he moves in front of her, willing her to meet his eyes.

"Buffy, luv…what is it that you want? What are you so afraid of?"

"You. This. Us. I dunno." She's exasperated. He moves a lock of hair behind her ear and she looks up into his eyes.

"I'm here, pet…if you need an ear." He smiles at her tentatively. She struggles to return it, sighing deeply.

"I know." She says softly. "You always are, that's the problem." She smiles a small smile. He returns it, though he isn't sure how to take that last comment. Problem? She sees the confusion in his eyes and laughs a little. "I don't mean it the way it sounds. I just mean…" She leans against a nearby pillar.

"You. And me. It's…well, it's crazy is what it is." She laughs a little as he smiles.

"Yeah…slayer…vamp…" He reaches over and wipes an errant tear from her cheek. She instinctively closes her eyes and leans into his touch, which causes him to linger a little longer. When she opens her eyes, he is inches away from her face. His eyes, which are the most startling depth of blue she's ever seen, are staring into her very soul. Seeking answers to questions he's afraid to ask, she supposes.

How does he manage to look inside her like this, she wonders.

As if reading her thoughts, he smiles. "You're so beautiful, Buffy. Do you know that?" She closes her eyes and leans her forehead on his chest, inhaling the indefinable essence of him. He kisses the top of her head, his fingers entangling in her hair, and relishes the silky softness. She sighs, shaking her head.

"I don't know what you're seeing, Spike, but I don't feel so very beautiful. Not these days." He lifts her head, thumbs caressing her temples, and catches her gaze.

"This, what you're going through, it won't last, luv. I promise it won't. It'll get better." He shakes her gently by her shoulders, but she turns her head away. He cups her face in his hand, a veil of hair separating his palm from her skin. He turns her head back to him. "It won't last. Give it time. And I'll do anything…anything…to help you. You know I will. No matter what."

She frowns at the meaning behind his words. Does he still thinks that she means to take and not give?

It's her turn to run her fingers through his hair. His hands drop to his side as he falls under her spell. She takes the opportunity to touch him. His face. His neck. His chest through the thin cotton. When she comes back to his face, she traces his lips with her fingertips. He trembles under her touch.

She parts her lips slightly in invitation, and asks him with her eyes 'Please.' He agrees to her request and lowers his head, capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

The flame ignites again and Buffy has no desire to quell it. She opens herself more to him and feels him respond in kind. The kiss climbs in its intensity, more than either had ever dreamed it could. He slips his arms lightly around her back as hers travel up his body and around his neck. He moves one arm languidly up her back and into her hair, cradling her head with the barest of touches. His hand continues to move forward and he caresses her face as he kisses her, learning the contours of her passion.

It's Buffy that comes up for air, but both of them are panting. This is so much more than she'd anticipated. So much more than she thought she could feel. And it's all for him. She regards him with something akin to awe in her eyes and he can only watch her watching him.

"I want you." She breathes.

"I want you." He doesn't move, though. Just watches her watching him.

"I need you. Not just...not just something o-or someone, I need you."

"You have me, pet." He says, desperate for her to understand that he belongs only to her. "You know you do. Even if you only want me just for tonight."

"And what about tomorrow night?" She looks up from feathery eyelashes. He smiles.

"If you'll have me." His voice drops an octave. His breathing is shallow, the echo of her heart pounding through him.

"I want you." She buries her fingers in his now unruly locks.

"We, uh, established that, yeah." She laughs softly. He tries to quell the shaking in his muscles caused by her proximity. He closes his eyes in an attempt to calm down and she places airy kisses on his lids. She hears the soft 'oh god' in his breath.

She stands on her toes and kisses his forehead. Slipping her arms around his neck, she whispers into his hair. "Let me make love to you, William."

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