She laid on the ground, curled into a ball, her head in her hands as the last sign of defeat. Sobs escaped her frail chest and shook her so hard she thought she might turn inside out, and then she realized that she was terrified of how she felt. "Frail," that was the word, it was the way she felt when her father had stormed off one night and something in her gut knew he wasn't coming back, it was the way she felt when Angel had turned into Angelus and handed her own heart back to her on a platter, and again a year later when he twisted taking the last shreds of hope she held onto and cutting them to pieces into a noble act of love. It was how she felt when Parker Abrhams told her she was nothing more than a good time, the way she felt when Riley got into a helicopter and left the country without a second glace, it was how she had felt when Giles told her he was leaving indefinitely. And now it was the way he had made her feel.

Spike was never supposed to get up and walk away. Whenever he left her, she had always known it'd only be a matter of time before he came back. Even when he left after the abusive portion of the relationship they shared had come to an end, she knew he'd left for her, to do something for her, and she was right. He was supposed to be the long-haul guy, the one who could deal with all the pieces others had left her heart in and help her figure out how to stick them back together.

More sobs echoed through her hollow chest and made her cough so hard she thought she might vomit. It was then that she could hear his voice promising that he'd be the one. All those times he'd sworn up and down that she couldn't get rid of him if she tried, and yet here she was, all alone, wrapped up in his duster just to remember his scent.

It had been three and a half years since he had given his life, or more correctly, un-life, to the hellmouth in order to save the world she fought so hard to protect. She had felt terrible afterwards, she shut people out and ran from any sort of authentic conversation with anyone, even Dawn. She couldn't understand why he was taken from her just as she was ready to move on, to let him love her and love him back with everything she had. But somehow she dealt with his death, if not for herself then for her friends and sister. A huge part of her ability to deal with the whole situation was because she knew he'd been taken from her, he didn't choose to leave like all the others had, and he had loved her until his dying day, just as everyone before him had promised and then turned their backs on. Then, she got the call from Andrew, and before she knew what was happening, she was on a plane to the City of Angels preparing herself to see a non-corporeal edition of the love of her life. Within moments of getting off the plane (a red-eye, of course), she found herself in his arms, half-dazed and half-elated. It was a full five minutes before she even had the opportunity to ask how he was holding her, if he was supposedly "all ghosty." After a long explanation from a lot of different mouths at once, she found that they had found the correct spells to being Spike back to his normal, cold-blooded self.

With this memory fresh in her thoughts, her mind began to wander, as it always did when she was at an extremely low point like this one, back to the day her world had burned to ash and left her to try to build something new.

---ONE YEAR EARLIER---
Buffy thought that she had learned to appreciate his love from the experience of losing him for what she had assumed would be eternity, and so did all of her friends. Giles, and even Xander had been happy to see her and Spike together, if for no other reason than the way her eyes shined when she looked at him. They were perfect for some time after his unexpected return into her life, but old habits die hard and before either of them knew what had happened, they were back in the familiar routine of Buffy taking Spike for all he had to give, and then some. Before she could stop herself, she was right back in the position of cold-hearted housewife, while Spike spent more and more time trying to please.

One morning, before the sun came up, Buffy came home from patrolling alone (for the third time that week), to find all Spike waiting for her in the living room, all of his belongings packed into suitcases and bags that were lying around his feet. Tears were welled up in his eyes long before she walked into the room, and before he spoke she knew what he was going to say.

He took a deep breath, "Buffy, I'm leaving."

She could hear her heartbeat echo at lighting speed in her ears, she knew he could hear it, too. Her bottom lip was quivering, she knew it. She bit down so hard on it that she drew blood, and finally found the courage to look at him him. She opened her mouth to speak but only a tiny gasp could be formed, she leaned against the wall to steady herself because she wasn't so sure she could trust her legs anymore.

"God this isn't easy, pet. And don't look at me like you think it is. I don't want to hurt you but ----" he continued, as the tears he'd been fighting began to fall.

"No, of course not," Buffy interrupted. "No one ever WANTS to hurt me. And I'm sure it's so hard for you Spike, you know, tucking your tail between your legs and running as fast as you can as soon as things get rough!"
"Oh, I didn't mean it," she thought almost immediately after the words escaped her mouth, but the rejection she felt led her to stand her ground, the best a woman in her situation could.

"Buffy," Spike started cautiously, knowing she was going to interrupt again.

"Just go," she responded in an icy tone with her eyes lowered to the ground. He assumed she'd been saving daggers to shoot at his back on the way out, but the truth was that she was just too afraid that if she looked at him, she'd beg him to stay; and she wasn't about to beg another man, intent on leaving, to stay.

Buffy was still curled up on the floor with dried trails from her tears stained on her tan cheeks, with a bottle of cheap vodka cradled against her chest. She knew that most of these tears were for herself, tears of self-pity and apathy, and it made her sick. She couldn't even remember the last time she felt like the warrior that her calling depicted her as. He still called, every now and again, somehow that comforted her, but she never answered. She couldn't imagine talking to him after she became this messy excuse for a human being.
The little girl inside of her blamed Spike for who she'd become, because if he hadn't left her, she never would have felt as worthless as she did right now. At times when she felt like this, she'd give in to the anger that she felt toward him and scream at the sky for letting him lie to her and make her believe that he'd be there for her. The adolescent in her was filled with self-loathing and the knowledge that she pushed him away, and would whisper inside her own mind things like, "no one could spend forever with me. They think they can, and then they realize that I really am 'insufferable.'" Last but not least, the woman in her would beg her to stand on her own feet, and reason that if she could just get up and be herself again, Spike would come back naturally. Unfortunately, this was harder than it looks on paper.

From time to time, Buffy would get a spurt of enthusiasm and start piecing her life back together. Drinking less was her first priority, because that alone brought her a world of problems that included, but weren't limited to, one night stands, random lines of cocaine, self-injury, and sloppy slaying. She'd muster up all the belief in herseld she could, and vow to stand up and be the person she knew she was meant to be. She'd fly into fanciful thoughts of Spike swooping back into her life, apologizing and begging for her forgiveness, and her friends would be at the sidelines, telling her how proud they were of her. These flights of hope were usually short lived and led her to feel even worse and indulge even further in the undesirable behavior she had been exhibiting lately. Buffy couldn't pinpoint exactly when self-destruction became a regular part of her routine, and she honestly didn't care to.

That night, already plenty intoxicated, Buffy went to the bar. She danced and met up with a few young guys from the college who were drooling at her feet. She hated how it made her feel to play this role, but any attention was better than sitting at home thinking about how inadequate a mate she was. After a few lines of coke with the four of them, she picked the one most pleasing to the eye and brought him home to show him what a "real woman" could do. After their brief experience, she went to the kitchen to make herself a drink, she took out the cranberry juice and put it on the counter, turning around to grab the bottle of vodka from the top of the fridge. She started to pour the vodka, but before she finished, the room went black.

*ding* *ding* *ding*

Buffy awoke to a pounding headache and the doorbell sounding more like the bells of Notre Dame than the tiny button attached to the front door. She looked around, confused at first, then realizing she was lying on the kitchen floor in a pool of vodka that must've spilled when she passed out. She cursed and pulled herself together, not even bothering to ask who was there before letting the front door swing open.

"Hey Buffster," Xander said, in a soft, almost childish voice as he entered the foyer. Following him were Willow, Kennedy, Giles, and Xander's new girlfriend, Melanie.

"Hey guys, what's going on? Is Dawn okay?" Buffy asked, almost frantically.

"She's fine, Buffy. We just wanted to stop in and catch up, ya know?" Willow smiled.

"Oh. Okay. Couldn't you have picked a less early time of morning to catch up?" Buffy replied dryly, half-joking and half-bitchy.

Giles cleared his throat before looking up at her from over the frames of his glasses, "it's two o'clock in the afternoon, Buffy"

She felt about as big as a cockroach, "of course it's two o'clock in the afternoon Buffy. Stupid, stupid Buffy." she thought, closing her eyes tightly and feeling her cheeks flush immediately.

Just as Willow was about to speak again, footsteps were heard coming down the hall from the direction of Buffy's bedroom. Before Buffy could realize what was happening and even try to prevent it, the man she'd brought home last night padded into the fully occupied living room in just his jeans.

"uhh, I didn't know you had, ermm, roomates," he stammered, looking especially quizzically at Giles.

"I don't," Buffy interrupted. "These are my friends, I forgot we had plans. Um, guys, this is...."

"Think Buffy, he said his name was....Adam? No. Avery? No. Andy?.....oh no."

"ummm..." she continued.

"I'm Jason," the young man finished for her, smiling weakly when she shot him a look of thanks. "I was just on my way out, ummmm...Buffy, I had a great time last night. I'll call you?"

"Okay," Buffy said quietly, knowing she hadn't given him her number but hoping he thought she had.

He let himself out quickly leaving her alone to face a room full of disappointed eyes. Giles was the first to speak.

"I think it's clear that we're concerned, Buffy. And I don't think it's necessary to tell you that I believe you are making incredibly destructive decisions!" he said, sharply.

"Buffy," Willow started. "It's not that we don't get it, you know, the pain. But we've all been there and lived to talk about it and help eachother through it. I'm scared that if things keep going the way they are, you won't."

"This isn't about blaming you for your feelings, it's about us wanting to help you get through them." Melanie offered with a small smile.

"Are you kidding?" Xander spoke up, his face red. "Of course we want to help, but this is completely about blame! Buffy, I've known you for years, and respected you for all of them, what do I have to look up to now? huh? The whore you've been acting like?"

That was all it took for the waterworks to make their appearance. Buffy had been able to hold her tears back for Giles, Willow, and Melanie's attacks on her character, bur a "whore?" Tears were pouring from her big green eyes before anyone even had the chance to give Xander a scolding look for his harsh words.

"Go," she managed, between choppy breaths that continued to catch in her throat. "Please, just go."
She couldn't even look at them, he friends, knowing what her mess was doing to them.
"I'm sorry, I thought I could fix this, but I can't. I love you, but I can't, okay? Please just go." And with that, Buffy got up and fixed herself a cup of coffee.

On Willow's cue, Melanie and Kennedy proceeded to wait outside while Willow, Xander, and Giles made their way into the kitchen behind Buffy. Seeing the puddle of vodka on the floor and the obvious cause of it, Willow started to cry, and moved in to wrap Buffy in a bear hug.

"I just don't want to lose you Buffy...I can't see you this way. I know how much Spike meant to you, how much he means to you," Willow cried, catching her breath and looking at Buffy with her teary eyes. "I love you, Buffy. Whatever comes at us, we can beat it, as long as you don't push me away. We made it through Angel, we made it through Oz, we made it through Riley, we made it through Tara, and now we have to make it through Spike."

"Willow, you just don't, I mean, you can't understand. I can't do it, I tried for you guys, I really did..." Buffy trailed off, looking at the floor ashamed.

Giles held her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm sorry," Xander said. "But I'm not going to stand here and kiss your ass. I love you as much as anyone Buff, but this isn't you. He's destoyed you and you're letting him eat away at the last pieces of yourself you have left. I will not stand by and watch you become all the things you said you'd never be. I can't stand it."

Buffy could hear his words as he actually said them, and then she could also hear her mind twisting them around into a new sentence that read more like, "Buffy, I can't stand you. You're half the woman you used to be, I don't support you."

It was times like these that terrified her, times when she could feel her mind playing tricks on her, but didn't have the will to stop it. Giles, Willow, and Xander continued to talk at her, but she was too focused on her slowly slipping sanity to really hear what they were saying.

Spike walked along the strip, kicking papers and various litter out of his way as he went. He'd just left a pub on the corner where women had thrown themselves at his feet, feeling sickened by the thought of touching anyone but his goldilocks. At the mention of his nickname for her within his mind, tears threatened to spill over his bottom lids and onto the shaggy bit of a beard he'd begun to let grow on his once clean-shaven face. Why couldn't she just have listened to him, why couldn't she just stand up and be Buffy?

He'd heard about her from a million sources, from random bints in the bar who were jealous, to stupid blokes who'd known her in a way that made Spike's blood boil, down to her best friends and accquaintences, who'd come to him for advice on helping her. "Damned if I know how to set the girl straight," was always his casual response, whilst inside he wracked his brain for any way to make her stand on her own two feet. That's what it really came down to for Spike, he saw his slayer turning from a powerful goddess into a broken piece of a girl who was hanging off of his arm, and he knew right then that he had to leave.

She'd begun her old tricks almost as soon as she believed he was really back, taking advantage and losing touch with him; but those were all things he could take in stride, seeing her lose parts of herself to become what she thought he wanted was what really fueled his decision to leave. He knew Buffy blamed herself and her selfish actions for his leaving, god, she never could understand that he'd take anything from her, as long as it was still authentic. He'd never be "that guy," the one who leaves when the going gets rough, but he thought it easier to allow her to believe that was why he was leaving. He'd rather her hate him any day if it made getting through everything easier. If she was going to be the hero he'd fallen in love with, she had to do it for herself.

Spike's tears were more than prevalent by now, and he could hear passerby's whispering. Everyone in this town, it seemed, loved everyone else's business. He'd quickly become known throughout the area as the "deep poetic guy who's girlfriend really pulled a doozy on him." Normally he wouldn't have minded what people thought of him, but the image they'd built up for him had women in a craze, and he never wanted Buffy to think that he had moved on. He looked around and made his way across the street into a skanky club that had a reputation fit for a convict, taking his jacket off and checking it at the door, he lit a cigarette and parted the sea of people to form a path to the bar. Lights flashed in all directions and the bass pumped so deeply that he almost felt like he had a heartbeat, he scanned the crowd quickly before taking a seat and ordering himself a few shots of Jack. The hair on his forearms stodd on end and he knew what that meant, she was near. Before he had the chance to spin around on his stool and search the crowd for her face, he heard a small gasp from behind him and turned aroudn to come face to face with the girl who occupied his every thought.

She was a sight, allright. Maybe if it were another girl, anyone but her, he'd have thought about how perfect her body looked under clothes that barely covered her tiny curves. He stared into her eyes, she had far too much make-up on them, and instead of the familiar gleam he remembered, they were red and glossed over, a result of far too many drinks in one evening. Her hair was up (except that one strand above her ear that he found terribly irresitible), and maybe it was the lighting, but it looked like she had dyed it darker. He looked down to see her outfit, a halter with no back and one of the strings coming loose, a jean skirt that barely covered her ass, and stilettos that looked like they could kill a man if she stepped the wrong way.

"Spike..." was all she could manage, feeling immediately embarassed at her choice of clothing.

"Hey pet," he smiled a crooked half smile and cocked his head toward her. He wanted to pick her up and clean her face off, to tell her she was beautiful without all that junk all over it. He wanted to take her home and put her back in jeans and one of those button-down shirts she used to fancy, to let her hair fall loose around her shoulders and curl just a tid bit at the ends. He wanted her to be his Buffy, but instead, he let her run the show, silently hoping she'd jump into his arms and beg him to fix everything.

Tears had already formed in the corners of her eyes, but she promised herself she wouldn't let him see her cry. She just wanted him to pull her into his arms and save her from the mess she had made of herself. She needed him to tell her to knock this "bloody stupid" behavior off and let him back into her life. Instead she said, "how've you been?"

Spike took a deep breath, despite the fact that he didn't need to, sighing silently to himself, "she's going to be stubborn about it then." He decided to give in and try to break down the walls that had been built between them the past few months. After a moment of hesitation, he said, "Let's go talk...," feeling more like a lost little boy asking a question than a master vampire telling his slayer to come with him.

She nodded weakly and followed him to the coat counter, he retrieved his duster, and waited for her to get her coat.
"I didn't bring one," she told him after he raised an eyebrow in her direction, waiting for her to check out a jacket. Without hesitation, he pulled the duster over her shoulders, making both parties feel butterflies in their stomachs at the contact.

While they were walking to her apartment, not much was said between them, both of them becoming incredibly fascinated with the sidewalk. Just as Spike was about to speak, a huge bloke was blocking their path. Without thinking, Spike pulled back his arm to throw a punch, but Buffy reacted faster and stopped him.

"Where's my money, Buffy?" the guy demanded, in a husky tone that Spike could tell he'd practiced for hours at home.
"Charlie, it's...I'll get it okay, can we talk about this another time? Privately?" she shot him a pointed look, making sure he knew that she didn't want Spike to know who he was or why she owed him money.
Charlie smiled a smile that Buffy knew meant nothing good for her before he swung, catching her bottom lip with his ring. Keeping her hold on Spike's arm, tightening her grip when she felt him try to break free after Charlie had hit her, she looked up at him with defiance in her eyes as he spoke,

"No, you stupid cunt, we cannot talk later! I want my money, no games this time princess," he said in a quiet voice that was still somehow deafening. Off of the look on Buffy's face he continued to belittle her, and then said the one thing she'd hope he'd keep to himself. "Or is it that you don't want your little boyfriend to know his bitch is a coke fiend."

He looked over at Spike cooly and spoke, "hey man, lose her while you can, everyone and their brother has passed this gate."

That was it, Spike broke free of Buffy's grip and knocked the tough-guy out with one punch. With tears in his eyes he looked over at Buffy who looked even more worried than before, with a steady stream of blood running along her neck from the busted lip Charlie had given her.

"This is what you do now, luv? You throw your knots in with blokes like this and get yourself beat up on?" he shrieked, not caring that his voice was shrill and obviously filled with emotion. "Bloody hell Buffy! Guys like this will kill you and not think twice about it! And hey, while you're at it, after you get drunk and high and beat up on by a dealer, maybe then you can wait on the boulevard for someone to pick you up and make an easy thirty bucks, oh, and maybe we'll find you a pimp to beat up on you, too!" he spat at her, his voice seeping with a brilliant mix of sarcasm and pain.

"I can take care of myself, Spike," she whispered, feeling more ashamed than she'd ever felt in her life.

"Right you are, pet....I saw you really doing a swell job of that when he was punching you in the mouth," he replied, dryly. "I see you've been doing well then Buffy, I guess this life is really working out for you then...hell I think it's exciting, what fun is an ancient calling only delivered to one girl in all the world anyway, it's so blase." he shrugged, hating himself for being so harsh, and hating her for making him be.

"Fuck you, Spike!" she looked up at him with mascara running down her cheeks. "You left me! I have to deal with things and sometimes I'm not so good at it. Do you know how bad it hurts? Do you even care? No, all you care about is coming around here and judging the choices I've made in your absence. You think I don't know that this is wrong?" she gestured to herself, and her outfit. "I can't do it anymore, Spike! I can't make ANYONE stay, I'm that impossible! So go ahead and pat yourself on the back, you were right, I'm not the person you fell in love with, you took her with you when you left me and just left this shell!" she took a choppy breath and continued, "Oh, and why don't you call Angel and Riley, too...you know, just to let them know that you're in the club now, and you realize you made a terrible mistake wating your time with me. So yeah, fuck you, Spike. You did this to me!"

He was taken completely stunned. She lumped him into a category with Angel and Riley, men who had ripped his princess' heart out and stomped all over it until it was flat, and she considered him one of them. He'd never wanted to hurt her so badly, and he never wanted her to think she wasn't good enough to make him stay. Spike stepped toward her, slowly and silently wrapping her into a bear hug as it started to rain. There they were, she was where she wanted to be, he had her where he wanted her, and the rain poured down in sheets as if baptizing the moment for them. Where they'd go from here or what happens tomorrow is of no concern, she was his again and he was hers again, if only for a footnote in time.

Spike smiled and kissed her hand at the door in front of the apartment he used to call home.

"That's all my sugar?" she smiled, teasing him a bit.

Spike sighed heavily, he hoped she didn't have the wrong idea about their time this evening. Not that he hadn't loved her company, but he wasn't willing to rush in blindly. He had a lot on his plate now, number one priority was killing, not without proper maiming, that Charlie guy.

"Buffy.....this doesn't mean..." he started.

"I know," she said, her smile fading just enough for him to notice.

"Right, I'll call you first thing tomorrow then, okay doll?" he offered.

"'kay, goodnight," she responded.

---

One the walk home Spike had a million and one thoughts running through his mind and he couldn't grab a hold on a single one of them.

What if she gives up completely and I never get my Buffy back?...She's got herself in a lot of trouble...How am I going to explain that I left because she was becoming half of me rather than the woman she'd always been, not because I lost any love for her?...Will she understand that I need her to be able to stand on her own two feet?....I can't believe she let that bastard lay a hand on her...Did I do the wrong thing?...How much money does she owe him?....She's really losing her way...It's my responsibilty, I did this to her...No I didn't, she did it to herself...When did my slayer become so broken?....I should talk to Giles...Her friends don't know jack about her....She was beautiful tonight....I should've dressed her lip up good and proper....She's gotta fix herself, if I fix her, I'll still be a crutch...

With all of these thoughts running a mile a minute, Spike found one thought that never left eh back of his mind, a scene that would play itself over and over again behind his eyelids.

"Buffy I'm leaving," he'd cried like a nancy and felt no shame in it.
She had looked up at him with the saddest eyes in the world before averting them to the ground in front of her and turning herself off to him, once again. He could feel the floor burning from the red she saw in that moment and did as she asked, just incase she decided to let out a little anger in his direction.
Once he finished loading the car with all of his belongings, he took one look back at the place he'd made home with the only woman for him. He'd assumed she'd learn again to stand on her own two feet and be the slayer he'd come to adore, he thought she might stake him, he waited for her to bounce back and find some other sucker to be her new main squeeze.

Spike had mentally prepared himself for anything that seemed even remotely possible for her to do after their break-up; promiscuity, maybe...alcohol abuse, a further stretch...cocaine? never. She'd promised that she only used blow four times in the past 6 months, which really wasn't even enough to call her a "recreational user," but it was the point that this was Buffy, she of the high and mighty, that was the subject of his debate. He figured that dealer must've used the word "fiend," to intentionally hurt her in front of him, not because she actually was one. Spike decided they'd tackle the blow issue before they even touched alcohol or one-night-stands, it'd be the easiest to get her to give up, because she was so terribly ashamed of having done it in the first place.
"There you go again, Spike, you should know by now that she won't let you save her," he sighed, knowing he was thinking far too much in advance.

--THE NEXT AFTERNOON--
He made his way to her place around 1:00pm, standing on the stoop with flowers he'd stolen from a street vendor on the way over. After she buzzed him in, he made himself comfortable on the couch while she put the flowers in a vase. In jeans and a white cotton tee that streched just the right way over her breasts, she was beautiful. He tried to remember the last time he had smiled the way he was goofily grinning at her now, but figured it better of him to ignore the memories that hung heavily in his mind whenever he was within reach of her.
He settled in for "The Price is Right," turning when he realized she had come back into the room. Sliding down the couch and allowing her to choose how close or how far to sit from him, Spike gestured with his blue eyes to the empty seat next to him.
She sat, leaving abnout 6 inches between them, realizing that he never took his eyes off her, as she leaned back against the couch, he reminded her that they had a lot to discuss and should get to it. Smiling almost childishly, she said,

"Yeah, but...." looking uncertain for a minute, "later, 'kay?"

Spike raised an eyebrow, "I won't let you put this off, luv. Let's just get it done and over with. I know what you're toying at," he felt his jeans tighten at the knowledge of what she was toying at.

"God, I've missed you," she said softly, blinking away tears and smiling sweetly at him.

"I know princess, I know. And I've.....missed isn't even the word. But you can't trick me out of this conversation, even if you are throwing extra puppy eyes my way," he smiled, unintentionally playing with the strand of hair that never seemed to belong to the rest of her hairstyle.

"I just, I don't know Spike..." she continued.

Next thing he knew she was in his arms and they shared one of the most passionate kisses since their first, neither one of them knew who moved first, who had leaned just that much more than the other, and right now it didn't matter. Falling into eachother, they made love for nearly three hours, lying on the floor afterwards there was an air of comfortable, yet tense, silence. Both of them knew that this had opened a whole new can of worms and they had to tread carefully, Spike was worried about her stability, Buffy was worried about his intentions, and their fears pulled them to reach out for eachother a little quicker.

Willow saw Buffy sitting at their table early Sunday morning at the java house for their weekly cup of coffee. It was a tradition they had started the week Spike left, because Willow was so concerned with getting Buffy out of the house and interacting with people. She made her way over slowly, winding throughout the mess of scenesters and elderly people scattered all over in the tiny coffee bar, making a mental note of how nice Buffy looked today.

"You look great," she said, with so much enthusiam it could have seemed like a guilty lie to anyone who didn't know the red-head. "Didja kill a big nasty or something last night?" she joked, knowing all to well that her joke might turn out to be a half-truth.

"Nope, this is the result of a non-slayage-related closet cleaning. And maybe I'm just in a good mood," Buffy chirped.

Willow eyed her, almost suspiciously, "Um, that's great! It's just been awhile since you've been so awake in the morning I thought maybe something extra good had happened."

Judging by the smile on Buffy's face, she backtracked a little bit, "Oh! Something good has happened? What is it?"

"Spike and me are talking again. I think it's going to be my chance Will, you know, to make everything right again," she said, the excitement in her voice impossible to hide.

"Really?" Willow's voiced squeaked at the mention of Spike. "That's great, Buffy, really. Have you, uh, told him how life has been recently?" she skated around the issue, not wanting to ask if she told Spike how she had completely de-moralized herself in the wake of his absence.

"That's the thing, Will, he already knew. I mean, that doesn't mean I get a clean slate or anything, but it's going to make talking about it a hell of a lot easier since he already knows. I guess I'm still scared, to tell him a lot of it, but he knows and he's still talking to me, so I guess that's good right?" Buffy asked, her voice rising just enough for Willow to see that she needed assurance.

"Absolutely. I just don't want you to get hurt. Not that I think Spike's going to hurt you, I just want you to go into this with a clear head. I just don't want you to rush into this and find out that you're still not ready to committ." Willow said, waiting for Buffy's response.

"I'm completely ready to committ, why does everyone keep saying that? Ever since he came back, I've been ready to be his," Buffy replied, sharply and a little defensively.

"Okay, okay. I just.... Buffy, he doesn't want you to need him in order to be okay. A person isn't ready to committ to another until they can be happy with themselves first, which obviously you aren't," Willow said, preparing for an explosion.

"I hate that. I hate that everyone keeps saying, 'love yourself before you can love anyone else,' that's stupid. Love is depending on someone to hold you up and holding them up, love is being only a half of somethign great, rather than whole by yourself. I just don't see things the way other people do," Buffy said, letting her guard down.

"I know you don't," Willow smiled a slight half-smile in her best friend's direction. "You see things the way you want to, you always have, Buffy. And in a lot of cases, that's good, it's saved yours and a lot of other people's lives....but in a relationship you have to see things the way an outsider does or you're never going to be able to fix what's wrong."

That hit Buffy the wrong way completely, who was Willow to tell her how to fix her relationship? "You just don't get it, you can't. I'm tired of trying to do things your way, or Xander and Melanie's way. I'm doing things Buffy-way, and if I fuck up...ugh, nevermind. I have to go."

Willow crumbled, "Buffy wait! I just want things to be good for you. I'm scared that the two of you will start drinking together instead of helping eachother stop, I'm scared that you'll start sleeping together before your hearts are ready...I just..."

Buffy spun around, "We are sleeping together, or we have. Maybe it's wrong Wills, but guess what? I don't care." She stormed off before Willow had the chance to remedy the situation.

Willow looked at the ground and whispered to herself, "that's exactly the attitude that got you in trouble in the first place."

---

Spike sat in the living room/dining room of his one bedroom apartment, twisting a piece of one of Buffy's scarves between his forefinger and thumb. His cell phone rang three times, before he even considered setting down his beer to see who it was. He knew it'd be her, and he honestly didn't know what to say or do. He was lost in his thoughts, absent-mindedly watching some stupid reality show on t.v., trying to shut off his own words echoing throughout his mind.

Sleeping with her was the wrong thing to do, I know neither of us are ready to be together again, but she'll never see it that way....I'm going to have to tell her that this doesn't mean we're together again....she's going to be so mad, she'll tell all her mates and they'll think I'm using her, convince her to move on and lose me....It's never going to be "just sex," never....I can't hurt her, maybe I should just go back to her and work it out from there....no, that's no good for either of us....

More often than not, Spike arguments and inner monologues never offered him any sort of solution, if anything, they confused him even more. The phone rang again, he sighed and stumbled over the the counter to snatch it up from it's dock.

"...'lo?" he answered.

"Hey," he heard Buffy's voice sounding rather chipper on the other end. "I was thinking maybe we could do something in a little bit, you know, if you want to...unless you're busy, 'cause I'd totally understand....maybe go out or something?" she spoke fast and stumbled over a few words, clearly nervous that she was out of line.

He smiled at how utterly adorable she could be when she wasn't even trying. "Sure, ducks. But Buff, just because we're spending more time together..."

"I know," she cut him off dryly. It was becoming an automatic response of hers everytime he tried to bring up the subject of the two of them to her.

He grabbed another beer while he got ready to go out. He inhaled deeply before lighting a cigarette, maybe she really just didn't want to hear him say that they weren't getting back together right away and she really did understand, but knowing Buffy, she probably had fancy ideas brewing her her head all afternoon about skipping hand in hand into the moonlight. On his way out the door, he ran back to his dresser and pulled out 5 one-hundred dollar bills and stuffed them into the pocket of his duster, figuring maybe they'd run into that Charlie character and he'd be able to pay off her debts for her.

Walking up to her door he felt those old familiar feelings of self-loathing creeping into the back of his mind, reminding him that she was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of girl that he didn't deserve. Shaking them out, he waited to be buzzed in.

"Hi......" he began, taking in the image in front of him. She had on white high heeled sandals that matched her toenails and accented how tan she was, as his eyes moved upwards he took in those legs, god he loved her. A brown skirt ended at the knee on one leg and mid-thigh on the other, due to it's cut, and a fancy white tank top that dipped low enough for him to admire her collar bone and the necklace he'd bought for her gracing her neck. Her eyes were shining, with just enough make-up to make them look even greener than they already were, and her hair was up in a lovely style that he couldn't describe if someone were to offer him a thousand dollars to do so, "you look.....i don't even know."

"Well I hope it's the good kind of 'i don't know,' not the kind you give when your mom asks where her good perfume is," she said, matter-of-factly.

"It's always the good kind when it's you, luv," he smiled, offering her his arm as they made their way down the hall.

His inner-self was screaming, at his outer-self at this point, dammit you ponce, you're all 'mr. determined to find out exactly what and whom she's done in these past few months' until you catch sight of her. One look at those legs and you're imagining all the ways you could wrap them around you instead of teaching her to stand on them.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, doll. I was just admiring your legs," he added with a wink.

After dinner at Demorino's, Spike favorite corner resturaunt, they headed off to an ale house he spent a lot of time at since they'd broken up. A woman was on a makeshift stage, reading some spoken word from a tablet in her hand when they walked in and made their way to the bar.

"Is it a poetry bar?" Buffy whispered, feeling awkward at the tiny cafe, as she was used to loud bars with pumping music and people screaming just to be heard by the person next to them.

"Yeah, something like that. I've grown to like it here, the people are really nice and it's just a nice atmosphere," Spike answered, ordering a jack and coke for himself and, "a cosmo for m'lady,"

Buffy wondered if Spike had ever read here, if he had read poems about her here. She got lost in romantic visions of him declaring his love for her to small audiences when a girl came from around the corner and wrapped her arms around Spike's shoulders. He looked uncomfortable and stiffened at the touch, which comforted Buffy, but only for a minute.

"What, you can't introduce me to your friend?" the girl said to Spike, with a drawl to her voice that made her ten times more attractive than she already was.

"Oh. Sorry....Rachael, this is Buffy," he offered, smiling slightly at Buffy before he said, "and Buffy, luv, this is Rachael."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, but took Rachael's hand anyway. Rachael leaned in uncomfortably close to Buffy and said, "I've heard a lot about you," with a sneer.

Buffy could feel her cheeks and ears flush before she even had a chance to realize what Rachael had meant. She was about to get up and go to the bathroom, just to calm herself down a bit, but the lights had already dimmed and someone was getting up to read. Buffy found herself lost in her thoughts as Spike ordered a pint of whatever was on tap for himself and a long island for her.
"He thinks I've just been whoring myself around, he must, or else his friend, or whatever she is, wouldn't have said that...

Two hours and a few drinks later, Spike excused himself and Buffy from the company of the self-proclaimed sophisticates surrounding them and they made their way down the strip. His arm was slung loosely around her hip, and her hands dangling freely at her sides, it was clear that she had something to say.

Spike sighed silently and cast a quick glance in her direction, "Out with it, poppet.....what's got your knickers twisted?" he smiled, letting her know she could tell him.

"I don't know Spike, it's just.....that girl, Rachael....what have you told her about me?" she half-asked, half-demanded.

"Her? Nothing much, all she knows of you is that I was recently in a relationship with a lass named Buffy and I'm not ready for any other females in my life," he said, quoting himself.

"Well then how did she...." a group of four vampires was suddenly in front of them, cutting Buffy's question short, "....nevermind."

"It's rare that I see you guys traveling in packs in this town," she said casually gesturing to the buildings above them and meaning Los Angeles as a whole, and forgetting about Rachael for the moment.

"We're on an assignment," sneered the smallest of the bunch.

"Really? Well I wonder what kind of wrath you'll have to endure when one of you has to go back to class and tell the teacher that the slayer ate all the homework?" god my quips really need some conditioning, she thought as soon as the words fell from her lips.

"Give us the money, Slayer. Charlie got capped, he was dippin' into the boss' pocket and eye-in-gay-el ain't gonna settle for knockin' you into next Tuesday for it," the small vampire spoke again.

"Eye-in-who?" Buffy said, trying to commit the name to memory, if there was someone in this town who had humans and vamps doing all their dirty work, she really should know about it.

Spike already knew the rest of the name, and throwing the five hundred dollars he'd brought along earlier that night at the ground for the vampire lackeys to scatter for, he grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled her in the opposite direction.

"What the hell are you doing? You just paid them, without even a fight or so much as an argument," Buffy protested, wondering why Spike was so sudden to pay the vampires off.

"We've got a bigger problem, luv. We're going to Giles' flat and havin' this out, but I want to tell you first," Spike said, still rushing her down the sidewalk.

"What? Don't tell me where we are and aren't going," she pulled her arm from his grasp, stopping, "tell me what's got you so....shirty, does it have to do with mention of this 'eye guy' or whatever his name is?" she said, smiling at the memory of a spat they'd shared so long ago.

"Aingeal," Spike repeated the name pronounced 'eye-in-gay-el.'

"What about him?" she asked, clearly not threatened.

Spike sighed, knowing he was not going to get her to sit down or relax for the news he was about to give her, "'k, tell me pet, does it sound like any name you've heard before?"

She wrinkled up her nose, "no, it sounds lame."

Spike chuckled for a moment before regaining his serious demeanor, "Aingeal, it's Gaelic for," he took her hand and softened his voice, "Angel."

The realization took but a fraction of a second to set in before Buffy realized what he had just revealed and the tears were flowing before she even had a minute to try and stop them.

"Let's get to Giles', eh?" Spike said, cradling her head against his chest.

---

Without knocking, Buffy and Spike burst through Giles' front door to find Giles, Willow, Kennedy, Xander, and Melanie sitting around and looking through dusty volumes like in the old days.
Giles jumped up immediately, cross in hand, lowering it when Spike hissed and backed away. "I'm terribly sorry, I thought you were someone else," Giles began, knowing he had to get Buffy know that Angel had once again lost his soul and become Angelus, or as he was now going by, Aingeal.
"Something's wrong with Angel," Buffy blurted.
"Yeah, the bloody ponce has lost his soul and changed his damned name again," Spike said, still receiving odd looks from Xander and company.
"Yes, we're aware. Willow had a visit from," Giles cleared his throat, "um, Drusilla, earlier today."
Spike's nerves went numb, "She's with Angel...here?" he asked, almost dumbly.
"As far as we know, the two are working together, not to destroy the world however, but to rule the undesirables of the city, both mortal and immortal," Giles answered, knowing this was a difficult moment for the two blondes standing before him.
"How'd he, lose it?" Buffy asked, nervous to hear the answer. It was hard for Buffy to see Angel with anyone but her, even though she didn't want him back at all.
"I'm not sure Buffy, this is all incredibly new information, there are a plethora of possibilities....for now, I advise you both to be on guard at all times, I imagine you'll both be subjects of interest to them," Giles warned.
"We should...stay together," Buffy knew she was treding into new waters, not knowing how Spike would react, since they 'weren't back together.'
"Yeh, your place?" Spike agreed.
Willow smiled quickly at Buffy from over Giles' shoulder as she and Spike made their way out the door.
-

With a quick turn of the doorknob to her own house, Buffy rushed in with Spike close behind. She could tell he was holding his emotions about Drusilla and Angel deep within himself and she wished she could do the same, but she had sniffed the entire way home.

"He slept with her before, right?...Spike...he slept with her before?....so it wasn't her that he lost it to?" she asked nervously, not sure how he'd react.

"Yeah, Buffy, they slept together plenty of times," he replied blatantly, a bitter tone prevalent in his answer.

Buffy looked up at him, almost afraid to make him lash out by mistake. At that same moment he chose to look down at her and fell into her big green eyes, taking note of how, with the salt water welling in the bottom, they looked like black lagoons with a beatiful green brim.

"I need you, Spike. Don't shut down on me now, k?" she whispered, looking down. She felt ashamed to be so honest with him, knowing that he wasn't ready to experience such heavy words with her again.

"K, princess," he said, half-heartedly, hoping he could keep his word.

---

"Aingeal is Gaelic, which makes complete sense, considering Angel's Irish heritage...but why not his given name? Why not Angelus?" Giles wondered aloud, not really speaking to any of the four seated in front of him.

"You know, I think it's pretty childish of Angel to change his name every time he turns evil, like a comic book character or something....except he doens't even come with a costume or anything, we can all still tell it's him...even if we only saw his shadow, cas...his hair," Xander rambled, trying to make light of the incredible fear that gripped his entire self.

Melanie took his hand, nervous herself. She had never seen any of the group this scared before...they'd apparantly been to hell and back, quite literally, and one vampire shook them all this much? "Weird," she mumbled, shaking her head when everyone turned their attention to her.

Willow kept looking over her shoulder and around the room, she knew Angel had snuck into her own bedroom last time and wasn't about to lose any fish this time. A pang of guilt hit her gut like a pound of steel, realizing that whilst she was worrying about losing fish or being scared to her wit's end, Giles was dealing with the loss of Miss Calendar all over again. Without a second thought, Willow was on her feet, standing behind the older gentleman with a reassurring hand on his shoulder.

"We miss her, too, Giles. And everyone's going to do a better job this time. Buffy's less jaded than last time and Spike's here to help as well," Willow offered, trying to believe that everything would be okay. Her mind immediately shot back to their earlier argument and Buffy's childish sentiments. Drawing a deep breath, she squeezed Giles' shoulder just ever so slightly tighter.

"Less jaded? If she's what you'd refer to as 'less jaded' now, what was she doing then? Acting in kiddie porn and shooting smack all at the same time? The girl is an alcoholic, a ho, and is slowly developing a close relationship with coke!" Kennedy shouted, clearly overwhelmed by the denial and intense emotions flying around the room. "Sorry to be the logical one, but the slayer I met, the Buffy who harshly trained me on how not to give in to weaknesses, would've spit on herself now."

"Kennedy," Willow started.

"She's right, unfortunately, we need a back-up plan. The only reason Buffy seemed to be doing well now is because she had Spike standing by her side. We all know that if he breaks down or rolls out, she's all 'hell on wheels' again," Xander said, shrugging his shoulders. He didn't want to appear to care less about Buffy, but truth be told, that's how she had treated all of them since Spike had left her. They could beg her to stop all the terrible things she'd been doing to herself and she'd talk about how she had nothing, clearly reinforcing the fact that without Spike, nothign mattered to her...least of all the concern of her longtime friends. He couldn't believe it at first, now he just couldn't believe that they even wanted to bother with her anymore, after she'd so easily dismissed them. Willow said she was just hurting too badly to invite them into herself, Melanie said he should be more understanding because judging didn't help anyone, but Kennedy had been on his page since day one.

"It's clear that something needs to be done on all fronts, both with and without Buffy's assistance," Giles broke in, clearly uncomfortable with the way his slayer was being spoken about, true or not.

---


"I want to steal the sunshine Angel," Drusilla murmured from the neck of a victim freshly killed.

"Now you're just stealing lines from bad songs of the late 90s, Dru. Buffy and Spike are our last concern in this town, we've got business to attend to and I thought you understood that well before we came here," Angel hissed.

"Mmmmm," Dru purred, knowingly. "Daddy wants to take his sunshine and my prince and keep them all to his self. Well jus because you tell them a different name doesn't mean that they can't see inside," she sang, tapping the place where his heart chose not to beat.

"I don't want anything but for them to stay out of our way, since that won't be the case, we'll deal with them when the time comes, but until that point, we're staying away. She'll come to us, she can't help it, besides, from what I've heard, she's been making some pretty big debts with my people in this town, so we've got nothing to worry about," Angel smiled, taking Dru's hand.

Pulling her hand away as if she'd touched a hot stove, she shreiked, "When did money matter more than blood Angel? When? Currency is currency, but I prefer mine hot and crying, not green and worthless!"

"Really lady?" a lackey said from behind Angel. "Cas I prefer mine the opposite," he smiled as he struck Angel in the back of the head with a piece of piping, "and Aingeal ain't paid up as promised." He smiled wickedly as he approached Drusilla, thinking she was just a normal groupie vamp that he could have his way with. She smiled, knowing she'd tear him to shreds before Angel even had the chance to start stirring.