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Author's Chapter Notes:
You all still with me?
Chapter Twenty

"Spike?" Buffy asked later when they were snuggled and warm in his bed.

"Yeah, kitten?" he asked, stroking her back in the dark, her head tucked under his chin, her arm around his middle.

"When is your therapy appointment?"

"Monday at five."

"Can I go?"

He moved slightly so that he could look down at her, "You want to go?'

She nodded. "Do you not want me to go?"

"I don't think you can go in with me or anything—"

"That's okay. I just want to go and support you."

She could barely make out his face, but she knew the look he had on his
face. The look of awe mixed with adoration; the one that made her want to
weep.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You don't have to thank me. Even though this is for you, we're in it
together, you know what I mean?" she asked and snuggled back into him.

"I do. Thanks just the same."

"Spike?"

"Kitten?"

"Say you and I weren't step siblings. Say we had just met out in the world
somewhere like most people do."

"Okay," he said slowly.

"Say Drusilla was never in the picture and when I met you at fourteen and
you were seventeen . . . would you have felt wrong?"

"I don't . . . Probably would have felt a little fucked, yes."

"Three years isn't a much of a difference."

"It is when you're seventeen."

"What about all those seniors that dated freshman?" she countered.

He chuckled lightly, "Good point."

"The fact is, you weren't ‘sullying' me to be lusting after me at seventeen.
So we take age out of the equation completely."

"Is this how we're going to do it then? Process of elimination until there's no more problem?"

"Because there ISN'T a problem. The sooner you grasp that, the happier
we'll be. The more we'll be able to move on."

"Why are you with me?" he whispered. "You could be with someone that
isn't your step brother, that isn't . . . broken."

"Because I love you, that's why I'm with you. Spike, I'm scared."

"Of what, Buffy? Tell me what dragon to slay for you and I will," he
promised and caressed the side of her face.

"Your hang ups are my dragons," she whispered, fearful to tell him.

His hand stilled and dropped, "What?"

"Being here with you like this is . . . at the risk of sounding like every
romantic comedy, namely the one with Matthew Perry that I can't
remember the name – You're everything I never knew I always wanted."

"But," he supplied when silence fell.

"But I'm afraid of what will happen when Mom and Giles come home."

He started. "You don't want to tell them right away do you?"

She shook her head, "No. But we will have to tell them eventually and it's
that fear I know is written all over your face that scares me. Therapy isn't
going to work miracles overnight, Spike. So unless you can purge the guilt
and dirtiness you've carried with you for the past six years in a couple
sessions, I'm thinking we've got some work to do here." She moved so that
she was kneeling before him, hands on her thighs.

Spike propped himself up against his headboard and leaned over to his
nightstand, turning his lamp on. Both squinted for a minute as they
adjusted to the light. They stared at each other for a long time, Buffy
waiting, Spike thinking.

"You think I'm going to give up. Give you up," he stated.

"Yes," she said honestly.

"I won't."

"That's not something you can promise."

"How do you figure?"

"Because it's not real yet."

He looked indignant. "What do you mean it's not real yet?"

"I mean, Mom and Giles aren't here. We've been living in a bubble for the
past couple days Spike. In this bubble, the outside world doesn't exist. The
rules changed when Mom and Giles left. Like this," she gestured between them, "We're just Buffy and Spike. A couple in love. When Mom and Giles
come back; the dynamic changes again."

"Unless we tell them, you mean."

"No, not even if we tell them. It'll always be there Spike. We'll always be
stepsiblings as long as my mother is married to your father. We'll always be
their kids. Mom will always consider you the son she never had and Giles
will always consider me the daughter he never had. The question I'm
posing to you is: Will you be able to handle it?"

"Will you?" he asked in retaliation.

"I'm prepared to," she said resolutely.

His eyes narrowed, "Are you now? They're not here, remember? Easy to
say when they're not here and we're living in a ‘bubble'."

"I'm aware of the reality," she bit back.

"And suddenly you're cured of your own hang-ups?" He asked snidely.

She felt her anger bubble up inside her; she didn't appreciate his tone. "I
admit, I have my hang ups about it, I did from the get go when I realized I
had feelings for you, but they are fading faster by the minute every second
I'm with you." She shook her head, climbing off the bed and narrowing her
eyes at him, "You've been carrying yours around for a lot longer than I
have. You've had it ingrained in you how wrong it is; how dirty it is. Drusilla
fucked with your head, YOU fucked with your head. Your baggage is a lot
bigger than mine; you've got carry-on with your baggage. So don't start
getting snippy with me.
I'm trying to be honest with you and tell you how I feel. You're not the only
one that's allowed to be scared here Spike. I don't know a lot about
relationships seeing as how I haven't been in many – or any at all—but I do
know that it takes two. Seeing as how you're the other part here, you're
kind of the one I'm hoping to lean on to get through it.
I know there's a light at the end of this tunnel, but I'm allowed to get scared
once in a while and have doubts. That's where you come in. I'm trying my
best to be strong here for you. For us. But I can't do it on my own. And
what scares me is that I might have to." Her eyes welled up in tears and
she let out a growl of frustration. "God, I hate to cry!" she exclaimed. "This
is all your fault. I never cried until all this started and I don't like it!" She
swiped at her eyes. "I'm going to Doyle's," she said and spun on heel
walking away from Spike and trying to tamper down the tears that were so
insistent on gathering.

She hadn't gotten far down the hall when Spike's hand clamped around her
arm and he practically yanked her back to him.

Her eyes were flashing as she spun to face him.

"You want this to be a two way street? Then you don't get to run off to
Doyle every time it gets a little rough with us," he ground out.

She struggled to get her arm free, but Spike was having none of it. Instead,
he hauled her up to him and crashed his lips to hers, kissing her breath
away.

When he broke to let them both breathe, his hold loosened and he pressed
his forehead against her, panting for air. One hand cupped the back of her
head, keeping her in place while his other arm wrapped around her waist.

"Don't run away from me. I don't want you to run to Doyle every time
there's a problem. I'm glad you told me how you felt. Glad because . . . God,
Buffy, I didn't know. I didn't know and it shocked me, stunned me . . .
frightened me to know you were just as scared as I was. All this time I've
been leaning on you for support. I've been relying on your strength to get
me through and I realize that you need me to be strong too. That you're
afraid and for different reasons. You're afraid I'll leave you. I won't. I love
you. No, I can't promise that I'm not going to crumble a few times and
probably stumble and fall a few times on the way, but so will you. And
you're right. We have to do it together, not apart. I'm sorry I've been
leaning on you to get us through this, I'm sorry I've made you had to carry
me and my issues—"

She opened her mouth to speak and he put a finger to her lips.

"Don't. Don't make excuses for me or for you. We're both stumbling
through this and one of us cannot carry the load. I get that now. I get what
you've been trying to tell me. I was clinging to you, hoping that your
strength would rub off on me and make me strong. I can't do that to you,
though. How could I? That's selfish and unfair of me. If I'm going to be
worthy of your love Buffy then I have to carry some of this too. I can't
make you do it all on your own and expect you to be okay with it." He
stopped short and swallowed a sob. He cradled her face in his hands,
studying her tenderly. "You've never been in love before. And out of
everyone to fall in love with, you chose me. That knocks me on my ass
Buffy," he chuckled nervously. "I've been in love with you for years, and
you've just realized what it means to be in love and have someone love you
back. You've got that on top of Mom, Dad and me to think about—"

"Don't make me out to be some kind of martyr here, Spike. I don't want to
be one. I just . . . I just want . . . "

"Tell me baby, tell me what you want," he cooed, nuzzling her cheek.

"I just want you. I want your demons to go away, I want you to be
comfortable in your own skin. I want you to be comfortable and free loving
me. I want to be comfortable and free loving you. I just want you, Spike."

"You have me," he breathed and kissed her deeply, passionately. She clung
to him because if she didn't, she'd fall from the force of his love and passion.
And he let her cling to him.

He held her up, supported her, kept her from falling from the dizzying
effect he had on her.

She hoped to God that meant something.





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