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when I believe in you my soul can rest







"'Lo love."

She kept the wheelchair from moving, hands clutching at the brake lever as though it was her only lifeline. Her hospital gown was up above her knees. My knee she amended silently. Curiosity warred with her own sense of self-preservation. She wouldn't look at him, she couldn't.

"This isn't real."

A rough chuckle sounded behind the shell of her ear. He was so close. Once she would have been terrified to feel his lips at the edge of her skin but now? Now it was like the caress of a ghost. He might exist but he didn't factor into her reality.

Spike was truly the absent man.

She had allotted everyone a role in her life. Heaven had changed her in the short time she had been there. When she had been finished, she had been able to see the patterns that each demon or person gave off. It was like a ribbon of colour which followed them wherever they went. It was a distant memory, something that was only hinted at in the thin line between sleep and consciousness but she had known then. The purpose of things had made perfect sense when her heart finally stopped beating. When they forced her back into the earth and made her crawl out, everything had been chaos. She could no longer picture where everyone fit.

It wasn't until she nearly danced to death that things had fallen back into place. There was good and there was evil and then there was her. But the ribbons of colour had vanished.

Considering herself broken had made it easier to love Spike. She was damaged goods for a damaged monster and in the soft moonlight of a cemetery, she could pretend that it was normal, that loving him was acceptable.

But she had known even then that it wasn't. In the harsh light of day her friends, those firmly in the 'good' box, had rallied around her, surprised, disgusted, and more than a little disappointed that she didn't fit into either category anymore.

She had tried though. She took on the imagined role of the good Slayer and allotted her friends title roles that seemed to make the most sense possible. Xander was the soldier of the group, Anya the relief and sobering voice of reality and Willow… Willow had been her secret weapon. When everything else had gone to hell, Buffy had thought that she could rely on Willow to take on the responsibility, after all hadn't she done it before? So many times Willow had stepped up to the batting cage, to take on Adam, Angelus, the First. Perhaps she had pushed her too far. The battle to destroy the seed had changed her mind about everyone.

Spike was her greatest source of confusion. Even as she felt his unneeded breaths of air brush the nape of her neck, she wondered if perhaps he had come to kill her. He hadn't had a Slayer in years, decades really. Maybe tonight would be her last. Something released itself from her chest, fear flying out from that horrible knot of anxiety. Spike would understand her predicament.

He would help her end it.

"Glad I came, Slayer?" His hands fell on both of her shoulders. The left thumb had a heavy signet ring on it which scratched against her skin each time he moved.

"I don’t know. Should I be?" I need it to be you. I just wish it had happened before.

He laughed again and then he was spinning her around to face him. Abruptly his mouth closed shut. "Gods… I didn't think they could do such a thing to another Slayer…" Mindless of her shock, Spike reached out a hand to caress her jaw.

Buffy grabbed hold of it the second those cold fingers touched her too warm skin. "Don't", she bit out. "This isn't something you need to be concerned with."

"What the fuck are you talking 'bout?" He broke his hand free and then began to run his fingers through the hair that hadn't been shaved away. "You may have a heart of stone Slayer, but I –"

"Don't call me that either," Buffy said throwing her head to side. She gasped in pain as he untangled his fingers and then he was standing across the room.

"'M sorry". Spike didn't know what else he could say to the girl in front of him. There had never been a Slayer allowed to live after this sort of damage. The Council had always seen to it that the girls died a quick death. Nibblet did well to keep this quiet.

"What do you want Spike?"

"Don't rightly know," he admitted. "The lil' bit called me –"

"Dawn." Buffy interjected.

He nodded, eyes flickering onto the grey tile and then back to the left side of her face. He didn't hide his surprise at seeing the raw skin. "Suppose I can't call her that anymore now that she's got the Whelp's get inside of her."

Why couldn't he just leave me alone. "You're talking about my brother in law."

He ignored her, hands raking through gelled curls as though it would change what he was viewing. "Look," he said, lips pursing, " I came didn't I? That has to mean somethin'."

"I don't want you here." And she didn't. His presence made her wounds feel raw. She tried to push her way over to the bed but he was already there, lifting her small form onto the mattress. Her skin crawled at the feel of his too cool hands through the thin fabric. It had been years since they had properly touched and now she could never look at him that way again.

But he didn't seem to notice. Without thinking he was pushing her to the side and curling against her back.

She opened her mouth to rebuke him, tell him how unwelcome he truly was but his hands were already on her lips 'shushing' her into silence.

And then he was murmuring into that special place at the nape of her neck. "Not going to leave you, love. You can spit and hiss all you want. T'is my job to look after cranky bints like you, no doubt." He sighed against her and it was at once the most terrifying and amazing feeling. She wriggled herself up against him, no longer attempting to separate herself for dignity's sake. She had no pride anymore. Curling against a vampire couldn't ruin her reputation anymore. Warmth flowed through her when he didn't push her away. Instead that old leather coat was wrapped around her until she felt like she was in a leather cocoon.

"You know you can't stay", she whispered. "The nurses don’t like anyone coming in at night and they will freak if they see you in the morning."

"Hush pet, we'll be long gone before then." His hands tightened their hold around her as she struggled to flip around to face him.

"Wait… what are you talking about?"

Spike was silent now, his gaze so mistrustful even as his hands caressed up and down her back. Teeth that were far too white gleamed at her and then all she saw was his fangs.

"Why? I thought you forgave me." Her eyes were so heavy even as he licked a path up the side of her throat. She should've known that he would do this, but fear was pulsing as she considered her impending death. The old Buffy would have kicked and screamed until Spike let her go or decided to fight her for the privilege.

But now? Her arms went loose against him, fingers no longer trying to claw her way free. In the end it was always going to be him. Spike had been the only monster who could truly take her in a fight. She was only disappointed that it had ended in a graveyard somewhere. Slayers were meant to die in the open, not in a hospital bed.

"Just relax, love. I promise it won't hurt."

A sharp prick of fangs against her skin was all she felt before the world went dark.





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