Author's Chapter Notes:
Hi guys, thanks again for the reviews and for still reading! And, as always, i hope this chapter is enjoyed!
"M'not..." he started, his voice intent, deep, even as it was hesitant. "M'not human... You know that now. And... bleedin hell Buffy there's just so much to explain about that." Spike stood up, scoffing with ridicule at himself. He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to work out a way to explain... everything.





Buffy chewed her lip, eyeing him; his back was turned to her.





Tired. Tired and hurt. He was jumpy, too; his clothing was bloody and his body was marred. She was aware of who, what, he was. And she knew things she hadn't known before because of that book- If it was as accurate as its pictures.





Of course, she knew she didn't know all, but that's what he needed to tell her. Teach her.





Spike looked up when she grasped his hand. Buffy smiled at him, softly, understandingly. She tugged and he came closer. "Here, why don't you clean up and then I can listen to everything you have to say."





He nodded after a moment. Then she pulled him behind her as she headed for-





"Uh, Spike?"





He smirked softly. "Through the livin room. Bedroom's up the stairs, down the hall, second door on yer left."





She nodded, then pulled him all the way up to his bedroom.





Buffy's first reaction to his directions was a nervous tickle along her spine, knowing exactly to where they were headed... just the two of them.





But then her brain kicked in and she remembered that he was hurt, they were going to have a DISCUSSION- and nothing more. Plus, his clothes were undoubtedly in his room, and he needed to change into something not covered with dirt and blood.





When they reached the door, she looked back at him as his hand stretched out from behind her to open it. She preceded him in, and heard a click when the entryway closed. Butterflies would have begun dancing in her stomach- As a matter of fact, they were JUST starting the steps to the mambo when, all of a sudden, a tiny little head of fur poked out from under the bed and mewed.





Her eyes widened, and really, she should have been prepared because she'd seen Spike adopt the kitten, but she hadn't been ready apparently. Because the first thing she did was smile like a loon and go straight for it, grasping the little thing in her hands. "Spike, you didn't tell me you had a kitten."





If he detected any deceptiveness in her tone, he didn't show it. And Buffy didn't need to look at him to know he was embarrassed.





He glanced at her with the feline, his cheeks almost turning pink despite his undead makeup, and Spike had to admit, that as long as she didn't tease him, the sight of her rubbing noses with a now purring kitty cat made him smile. It was a very begrudging smile, of course, because he was a demon... not supposed to have fuzzy feelings like that.





But Buffy wasn't going to bust his balls about anything. All she seemed to care about was the little animal and how cute it was.





She sat on the bed with her, rubbing the feline's belly as Spike went to his chest of drawers and retrieved some fresh clothes. Then he turned to face them, a smile still present.





Cat belly-up, and Buffy scratching her fur while a contented purr could be heard, was a nice sight. Spike glanced down as his grin grew, then he looked up again and tried to diminish it, with no luck. "I'll hop in the shower real quick, just to get this muck off."





"Okay," she replied. Her eyes hadn't left the kitty. "We'll be fine out here."





Spike had no doubt.





He shook his head in amusement, then entered the connecting bathroom and shut the door behind him.


***




Buffy's brain was on two things while she was alone. One, the furry little thing in her lap purring louder than a truck engine; and two, how this forthcoming conversation was going to go.






She wasn't sure if she should start out with questions, or just let Spike start off where he wanted to; but how would he know where to begin if she didn't ask him stuff? Would she be asking the right questions?






How could she? She was thinking in circles.






She shook her head softly. The book had left her with knowledge. Hopefully, accurate knowledge. Now all she needed was to pinpoint her main inquiries.






Which left her with... everything.






Letting out a sigh that started from the tips of her toes, Buffy inwardly silenced herself. She needed to relax. This was no doubt much harder for Spike than it was for her. HE would be explaining himself, HE would be telling his... life story? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that she had to be patient...






And not let him get away with keeping crap from her.






She wanted to understand him. All of everything she could know, she wanted to.






God, that word was getting italicized way too much in her brain. EVERYTHING was a whole lot to take in and tell, how much could she learn in one night? How much could he explain?






She looked up when the sound of the shower stopped. It had been the background music to her over-thinking and inner pep talk for five minutes now.






Well, one thing was for sure, she sucked at pep talks.






Chewing on her bottom lip, Buffy gave herself one rule. The ONLY one she could get herself to adhere to right now that made any sense.






*Stay calm, and no matter what, don't freak out.*






Suddenly, the bathroom door opened, and there stood a blue-eyed, bare-chested... God.






Buffy's eyes rounded. She took in the sight of a shirtless, hair tousled, water running down ripped abs Spike. Her mouth ran dry.






Arms lined with corded muscle, chest and abdomen chiseled like stone, his skin was clean and his hair no longer tinged with dirt or blood. The few battle wounds she saw did nothing to steal from his beauty. A scratch here, a bruise there, he stood tall and mouthwatering. Powerful.






The glimpse that was caught when she had lifted his shirt to inspect some bruised ribs not long ago was nothing like the full effect. She'd barely registered his body then in the middle of her concern, but now... He looked like you could throw a bolder at him, and it would bounce off. Handsome, strong, and leaving her speechless.






While she ogled, Spike gently toweled his face and neck. Apparently he'd removed and reset the bandage on his head, because Buffy noticed it when he turned around to toss the towel back into the bathroom.






Her gaze was then pinned to his back. She hadn't known a back could be beautiful, but his was. Lined with muscle, sinewy yet strong looking, smooth alabaster skin...






He turned around.






Evidently, her jaw had dropped open at some point. "You're catchin flies there, love."






Eyes shooting up to his grinning face, her mouth snapped shut. Buffy fought down the heat in her cheeks with every ounce of control she had over such things, and then looked down at the kitten in her hands as a distraction.






Spike was smirking now, a very pleased expression on his gorgeous face. She could feel it like she felt his stare on her body. "What's her name?" Buffy asked.






The smirk got wider, though she didn't dare look at him to confirm.






"She doesn't have one." He debated forgetting about putting on a shirt, wanting to forget it now. Buffy's blush was just lovely.






She looked at him, and he could see the switch in her eyes when she turned from skittish to resolute. She stared right at him and asked, "You didn't name her?"






Spike shook his head, smiling into her unwavering eyes. "Nope. Blake likes to call her 'Princess,' though. I personally think it's too..."






"Girly," she finished.






"Yeh." He went for that shirt. "You can name her if ya like, sweets. I've just been callin her 'furball' mostly."






Buffy scoffed with amusement, inwardly grateful and yet disappointed too when he threw a T-shirt on over his head. "How original," she said.






The air became quiet then. With only one set of calm, even breaths and one heartbeat to sound. No more words or small talk came to mind or could be said. Buffy's gaze slowly, silently, lifted, to meet shyly with his.






Spike didn't notice when he stepped closer, to sit beside her on the large soft bed, breathing in her scent as he took an unnecessary breath to calm himself. The aroma she emitted had him wanting to inhale deeper, even as the hair on the back of his arms and neck stood up, his nerves tingled.






She brought out the calm and jittery, the stability and the animal inside. Spike broke eye contact as he heard her breathing speed up, her pulse skitter and jump. Best not to think about her being so close... so trusting and near, he decided, because then he wouldn't be able to stop himself from touching her.






Her voice, tentative and quiet, broke the silence. "I went to the library."






He looked at her in question, and she continued. "After I left I-I... went to the library and I grabbed all of the books on vampires I could find."






He didn't have a chance to laugh or balk, which was probably good considering he didn't know which he would've done. Only his gaze changed, widening, before she spoke again. "I learned a lot of what I'm sure is... well, crap. And also some things that I think are... real. But I just... I've got a lot of questions but I don't really know how to ask them and I'm sure some of them will sound really dumb so I think it's best if you just-"






Spike cut her off. Not with words, not with a hush, but by brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was halting and tender. Then she finally noticed the way he was staring at her, not so guarded or bewildered as a moment before, but warmer. Just warm.






She sucked in a tiny breath, one that sounded louder to her than it actually as and felt like a deep gasp in her throat. He was sitting so close and looking at her like she was someone to be understood, someone that he already GOT. He stared as if she was the sun and he wanted to go blind. And Buffy was a second away from locking up into stone or shooting into his arms.






Then Spike nodded as he said, "Alright. I'll start, yeah? And you can slip a question in any time you want."






She swallowed down the desire to touch and be touched by that unnamed emotion in his eyes, and caught her breath. "Okay," she murmured






And then it began.






***





The history lesson started, the facts. Like a list of tragedies or fairytales no one would believe. No one would understand and actually judge as true.



Who could look at Spike, and actually trust him when he explained that he was born in the late seventeen hundreds, died in eighteen-twenty, and was therefore, over a century old. Over TWO centuries old if you included his human years, which Buffy did.



"H-How were you turned?"



She didn't make inquiries very much, mostly let him explain things so she could understand it all clearly. He was slow, deep speaking and straight forward. But she did ask a few things, all in all. The first was that last question.



And he told her, of how he'd been... heartbroken, and then changed into a creature of the night.



Someone named Cecily, a woman who had brushed him off when he'd laid himself out for her to either skewer or hold. She'd gone for the knife.



And Spike- or William, the man he explained he'd once been before becoming a vampire -had felt crushed that night. He'd run into the streets a broken man, and in doing so, he'd died at the fangs of a vampire named Drusilla.



Dru, as he first referred to her, had apparently been- in Spike's words -his salvation. At least, he amended, that's what he'd thought her to be at the time.



Buffy quickly brushed aside the nasty emotion that welled up in her stomach as he began talking about this woman, his lover who had been his everything. She who held his making in her blood. Spike began with explaining all that she was, her mental instability and visions, her talking to the stars; and what she had become to him. How she'd taught him things, been his beloved partner and his cherished love to care for.



He spoke of her like she'd once been the moon and the stars. And to him, Spike explained, she had been.



But she wasn't anymore. He clarified that severely, smoothing over a painful thing inside Buffy that had begun growing and kept up its pace with every word uttered about Drusilla.



To possibly change the topic, or maybe just to continue with the explanation of who he was and what, Spike went back to the night of his turning.



Evidently, he'd had a sister and a mother. His father had passed on when he was younger. And the night he'd died, something had become very clear to Spike.



"Most vamps, when they first wake up, go after their families." He told her about how, as he was sure many of her books had already explained, vampires were cruel and generally evil. They were soulless and bloodthirsty, and one of the first things they want after waking up undead, is to cut off all ties from their former life.



But Spike couldn't do that.



"Not only did I not want them dead, but I couldn't even fathom turnin em," he said. Saying why, at Drusilla's urging as well as his 'against nature' feelings, he'd fled his home. There was no need to stay, his mum and Dawn were just fine without him, they had people to look after them and help from many friends, if needed.



And he believed he could no longer be a part of their lives following his death.



After which he'd stayed with his maker, his beloved sire, and about fifty other vamps. It was a nest, a sort of a family, Spike explained. Buffy was a little wigged about that last point.



But then her mind rewound, and she focused onto something she knew Spike was going to get to, but Buffy couldn't help from asking about herself. "Most vampires are soulless? That means, no conscience right?"



Spike shook his head in the negative.



Buffy frowned before he could utter a word, and added, "They're cruel and bloodthirsty, you said it yourself."



Spike look down at his clasped hands, then looked up again to meet her confused sweet eyes filled with trust. He swallowed. "They are. But not MOST of em, love. ALL."



A beat. A moment of pure silence, the air heavy and Buffy's face uncomprehending.



Slowly, her eyes blinked to reveal them newly aware, her fingers clenched into fists and Spike heard her pulse skip over itself several times.



Then, "Oh."



It was from then that the conversation changed. It went from simple- as easy as the basic facts of how he'd become what he was could be told -to something darker. Weightier and not so simple, not so nice.



"I didn't hurt my family, but I hurt a lot of other people. And even now, I don't regret a single kill."



Her voice shook. Her lips trembled over the word: "Kill?"



Spike averted his eyes, not being able to stand the judgment he saw in hers. He'd seen it a thousand times before in other people's, in the stares of hateful enemies and weak victims he'd torn apart. The only difference was, he hadn't cared until now.



She asked him, her voice soft and grainy, "You're a killer?"



Spike's only answer was in his gaze, the truth, and hidden beneath the blue was the preparation for her reaction.



But nothing could have steadied him enough when she jumped off the bed and turned her back on him, staring at the wall; more questions came.



How many did he kill, was he like the books had said, was he a torturer and a bloodthirsty animal who enjoyed seeing people in pain. Did he kill people by sucking their blood as she'd learned, or did he just feed for fun? What was the worst thing he'd ever done, did he steal things off his victims? Did he kill them in front of their families?



He'd cut off her angry rambling of questions, explaining that he'd done just about everything you could deem sick, and cruel, and evil, in only twenty years time.



He'd gotten nicknames. There were books written about him and Drusilla, the things they'd done. He was notorious for torturing, had been called 'Spike' after only three years of being a vampire, because one of his most favored torture methods involved railroad spikes.



Buffy's face had looked angry and closed off at this point. Her mouth was compressed and her eyes fire lit.



He rose, trying to keep the self disgust from his own face. He was still a demon, he didn't give a shit about the people he'd hurt, the only thing which managed to make him feel like dirt was the look on Buffy's face and knowing it was well deserved. "You'd get sick from seein just a glimpse of what I used to do to girls your age."



She visibly flinched. Deprivation was the only thing he could feel, guilt that he wasn't used to scalded him like hot oil inside. She wouldn't look at him, and all he could seem to do was keep her looking away because a butterfly does not deserve to be put in a jar. And Spike didn't even deserve to see her fly, unless it was away from him.



Buffy raised her head when he came closer, her eyes green shards. What she was hearing and what her mind knew of him did not compute.



If he was a cruel monster who liked to kill and torture, bring pain to people and watch with a smile, then why was he the way he was now? If he didn't care about anybody, then why had he cared at all about her? Why did he have friends, why didn't he kill his mother and sister all those years ago?



If he was as evil as he said, then why the fuck-



"Why do you have a cat named Princess?"



The question was beyond random. Spike actually blinked in confusion, his body only a foot away from hers, and frozen. He was almost too thrown to ask, "What?"



Her lips thinned and a scowl pinched her forehead. Buffy stepped closer, her arms crossed and her eyes daring. "I said, 'Why do you have a cat named Princess?'"



Buffy could see the plain puzzlement on his face and decided that was good. It meant he wouldn't talk as much. "You're so soulless and without a conscience, right?"



He nodded, still looking lost.



She smiled, mockingly. "Right. Then why did you take in a stray kitten? I saw you that night, Spike, outside the library. I knew very well you picked up that cat and took it home."



His bafflement was clear, but Buffy decided to fuck up his thought process a little more. Because she wasn't buying the past "William the Bloody" tale. It may be true, but "used to" were the key words in every single thing he told her; and therefore, every sin and murder and gory pursuit.



"And why, if you don't give a damn about people, do you have friends? You seem to be close with them, I thought soulless demons would be a more solitary animal. No?"



His silence was yet again, her answer. Buffy continued. "Hmm. Interesting. And if what I read about soulless demons not being able to love is true, then what about your sire, Drusilla?" Buffy swallowed hard before she went on, the name of the other lady leaving a burning emotion behind she didn't have time to consult. "Did you really love her, or was it all just lust? Because you sound pretty sure that you did love her, and care about her. I thought vampires weren't supposed to be able to do that."



"And then we've got one more thing. Why the FUCK would you treat me the way you have?" Her voice rose, her temper coming out to play with the betrayal she felt. She was horrified, she was guilty of caring about a man who'd been a heartless monster; but that wasn't the whole story either. He wasn't the same. "Why would you let me cry on your shoulder? Why would you argue with me in the rain like some scene out of a cheesy romcom, and save me from bad dreams? Why would you bother listening when I told you everything about my mom and grandfather? Why the hell would you treat me like you care?"



Her tirade left him effectively fish mouthed. She stepped close to him, her chin high and her eyes flaring. "Was it all just crap, Spike? Was it all a cruel game?! Because if it was you sure fooled me!"



His jaw closed, clenching tight. And he knew she could see the emotions inside him as clearly as possible without spelling them out. He let her, and she read his eyes, wondering just how long it had been since he'd last killed a person. Buffy snapped one more time. "When was the last time you killed a human being? Or tortured someone? Fed?"



He was quiet, his useless lungs working hard as his nostrils flared.



They stared in silence, until finally, Buffy backed off with a scoff. It was an airy sound filled with triumph and disbelief, her heart danced in her chest and her mind cleared just a little bit. "You're not quite the same vampire you were before, are you Spike?"



His teeth ground together and he glared down at her. The things she was saying... "You're deluding yourself, pet."



The growl with which he spoke should have scared her.



It didn't. "How long?"



"For a long soddin time, alright?!"



"Why?"



Spike swallowed hard, his eyes left hers for a second. He needed to breathe but he didn't, and his heart wasn't beating but his chest felt tight. He had sworn to tell her everything... "Because I made a promise... to my sister."



The answer wasn't as much of a shock as it might have been to someone else. Buffy knew Spike. He wasn't your typical soulless vamp, as she'd pretty much just proven, and the fact that he'd made some sort of vow not to kill because of family was a very solid explanation.



She urged him to continue, still standing even as he sat back down. Slowly, he spilled it. Each word sounded like it was pulled from him against his will, but slowly, it became easier to tell her about the family he'd lost forever ago.



His mother's name was Anna, and Buffy could tell from the way Spike talked about her that he'd loved her very much. It was a hard guess that he would have been a momma's boy, but evidently, he was.



He was also a big brother at heart. He described Dawn fondly, and it was easy to picture the beautiful brunette with a bright smile.



Spike quickly, like ripping off a band-aid, got to the part about how he had left them for twenty years before finally returning home.



"I used to... I used to get letters, from a bloke I paid to keep an eye on them. He was a young kid, only 'bout sixteen when I found him, and he didn't even know what I looked like. I just gave him suitable locations to leave or send the letters."



These notes and updates kept Spike away, but still watchful over his loved ones. He'd never heard of a problem, and so had stayed gone for years until finally, something went wrong.



At the time, his relationship with Drusilla had been dwindling, he explained. Things had been going rough and Spike still knew that he would have stayed with her and been her lap dog forever if she'd let him; but then his mum got sick.



She'd never been weak, or frail, and the news had shocked him. He hadn't been afraid of much after being turned, but when the report had gotten to him, he'd headed straight back home with fear in his undead heart.



He'd left Drusilla, he'd gladly left that bloody vamp nest, and he'd set out to find his mother and turn her before it was too late.



He'd rather have her forever and cold, than gone and in the ground.



His homecoming didn't go quite like he'd planned, however.



Dawn had ripped him a new one when he'd gotten back. In the middle of the night, she'd made his ears bleed before even letting him in. She hadn't yelled so much as cried and called him names.



Because when Dawn was hurt, evidently, it was heard. Spike explained to Buffy how his little sister had both hit and hugged him all in one "welcome home" hurrah. And she'd demanded an explanation as to why he'd left, where he'd been, and why he was suddenly back after twenty years.



And why he hadn't aged a day.



"Did she freak after you told her what you were?" Buffy asked halfway into his story, worrying about what Dawn's receiving had turned into after she'd learned how he'd changed.



Spike's eyes got distant, and Buffy saw his throat muscles move, a reflective look appearing on his expressive face. "No," he said. "She didn't. She... she hugged me."



Dawn, loving person that she was, had apparently taken her big brother back in with the hope and understanding of someone who just wanted their family back. Her mother was dying, and she'd missed William every second he'd been gone. The un-detailed note he'd left upon his leaving didn't explain very much other than that he had somehow changed, and could no longer stay in their lives.



And when he returned, fangs and all, all Dawn could do was trust him against what intelligence told her, and accept who he had become.



Even with the bloodshed and the torture and the killing. Dawn wasn't happy about it, she was crying the entire time Spike explained what being a vampire was for him, what these past twenty years had become, and how he'd only paused in the violence when hearing about their mother's ailing health.



It was then that Spike told his sister of what he wanted to do.



"She wouldn't let me turn her. And now that I think about it, I'm glad she didn't."



Dawn had put her foot down, exclaiming that she wouldn't curse her mother to such an existence. Away from light, forced to drink blood, fighting a demon's impulses. Even if she were to turn out like her brother had, still able to love despite the evil inside, there was a chance that everything would go wrong, and Anna would become NOTHING but a monster.



And then, she swore Spike to a change. She made him promise her, from then on, no matter what happened, that he would not leave again.



A teary eyed face, pleading and command in her voice. She'd made him swear to change. It was obvious, Dawn had said, that he wasn't the same as other vampires were, that he still had a heart somewhere inside. Maybe not for strangers, but for those he cared about. And she knew he cared about her, and their mother; so she had asked for a promise.



That was when everything reversed itself. He stopped torturing, maiming and killing for the fun of it. He broke off from his demon contacts and holed up back in London, near home, and his malicious days of being "William the Bloody" and "Slayer or Slayers" had come to an end.



Well, mostly. He still had to feed, and Dawn had actually come up with a solution to that dilemma.



Criminals and thieves. Those who did no good to society and only hurt other people. They could be his food source, she'd decided, but advised him to try not to kill them. It still didn't sit right with her, as Dawn was as good as they come, and so Spike had vowed to start playing catch and release.



The few times he did slip up and drained a man completely, became times Spike actually felt disappointed, because he knew Dawn would be hurt. But when he told her about it, especially at the beginning- when he was still adjusting -she'd understood. She told him how she knew it was difficult, and she didn't expect perfect, which is why he was feeding off of the humans who could give a demon or two a run for their money when it came to cruelty.



Spike realized, while telling Buffy his story, that it still managed to surprise him, what Dawn had done about his vampire nature. She'd not denied it, or him, but instead had worked around it. She'd brought back some light into his nocturnal existence, and though talking about her and his mum hurt like a bitch, doing so after all these years actually felt... like a sort of release.



Of course, the fact that it was Buffy listening, and she'd moved back onto the bed, closer to him, made things easier, too.



"So," she said softly, resting a hand over his and succeeding in striking that spark between them to life, "Did you tell your mom about being a vampire?"



Spike's eyes turned sad. He looked at her, and Buffy swallowed hard. Trying to stay strong, gathering herself together, she exhaled steadily. The pain in his voice and eyes had been cutting her down since he'd started talking, and she didn't know how she could feel suddenly so protective of him and no longer worried about who he used to be.



Knowing he'd quit being a horrible, torturing evil vampire because his sister had asked him to... It went along with the things Buffy knew about him- The things which contrasted directly with who he'd apparently once been, the pain he'd once caused people for his own pleasure.



She knew he was telling her the truth on his sins, on his demonic play which had lasted twenty years and landed him in history books. She also knew he was being honest when he told her that he'd never told his mother what he was. She died two days after he got home, and he'd held her hand while Dawn had held the other.



Buffy resisted the urge to hug him close as a lone tear slowly slipped down his cheek. Anna had smiled to see him home, and she'd either been too weak or too relieved to notice that he didn't look twenty years older.



She left the world smiling at her children, each clasping one hand as she drifted off to sleep. Painless and quiet.



The loss was still acute, though. Buffy could see it in his eyes, in the way Spike's lips pressed into a hard line. She reached up to wipe away the teardrop on his face, and he glanced at her too quickly for her to say anything he would hear. He was in another place.



Then he went on. And he told her about how the coming years with Dawn had actually been the best he'd known, even better than the bloodshed and his time with Dru. Forty years of being with his sister- if not in public -and having a part of his true family back, and being loved in return, had been better than any violence.



It wasn't long before his sister was married, she'd had a suitor looking out for her for some time, and it had turned out to be a love match. The man died first, many years later, and Dawn had never born children, but she lived a long and happy life. Spike was a secret to the rest of society, as he couldn't be recognized as her brother anymore with the whole immortality thing, but that never stopped them from being close.



When Dawn got much older, Spike had started to feel her leaving him. Death was getting closer every day, as she was no longer growing, but aging. And he missed her still, like his mum, as he always would.



Spike had known, even as he sat by her side the night of her death, that she wouldn't want to be turned. He'd known it much sooner actually, and if he'd thought she might consider it, he might have offered to do it years before. He didn't want to live without his little sister. It wasn't supposed to be the older sibling watching the younger pass on. The big brother was always supposed to protect.



But the idea of her being a vampire did not sit well. He didn't want to see her grinning with blood around her mouth, and he loved her too much to curse her to that.



So he'd stayed, holding her hand like they'd both done with their mother, until the moon rose and she took her last few breaths.



It wasn't when he'd heard her heartbeat fade away that Spike had crumbled. No. She'd left him a letter, and instructed him to read it, but he hadn't wanted to take his eyes from her. He'd waited until she was gone.



It was a list of things she loved about him, even as a vampire, and the things she knew their mother loved about him, too. She wrote to stay strong after she was gone, and to please also, stay good. To live for her and try and enjoy the immortality. It was a gift, if not with some consequences, but a gift all the same. He was a special man who would one day find what he most wanted, but only if he kept plowing on even in the hardest times. And she would always be with him, in his heart, at his side, and their mother would be right there with her. No matter what.



Spike explained to Buffy that he'd basically broke down after that. For a whole month he'd been on a drinking binge, which was a couple of weeks longer than the one he'd been on after his mum had died.



He'd had no one. Spike moved out of the neighborhood he'd grown up in, but stayed in London, and he'd watched Dawn's funeral from a far, in the shadows hidden from sunlight.



It didn't take Buffy long to grab him, around the neck, and haul him close. She didn't know if he wanted this kind of comfort and she knew he didn't need her tears.



But she had to feel him in her arms. His pain was clawing at her and she couldn't stand it. When he seized her tight, and murmured her name reverently in what sounded like relief, she swallowed down her emotions. He needed her strength right now. He'd done this for her before, now it was her turn.



"How you can stand this, I don't..."



He seemed to be talking to himself, the words a whisper; Buffy heard anyway. She asked, "Stand what?"



"Just bein in the same room with me, now that you know everythin I've... Now that-"



He cut himself off, holding her tighter as if he was afraid he'd brought attention to a fact she'd missed, and now she would leave him. Buffy pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. "Everything you've done is in the past, Spike. And you stopped it because you made a promise to your sister."



He looked at her with piercing eyes, awe and something else like disbelief wading in the blue of his eyes. Then he clenched his jaw in strain. "Buffy, m'not a changed man. M'still a demon, I don't regret what I've done and I could do it all again if it weren't for-"



"Your promise," she strongly broke in. "And you might not have a conscience, but it's what you DO that matters, Spike."



When he was silent, staring at her like she was something that had fallen from the heavens, Buffy felt a blush cover her cheeks. She'd been appalled... she still didn't like the facts of his past. But it didn't matter now. He no longer hurt people, he was no longer a man without a heart.



She didn't think he ever had been. "At least," she added, "it's what matters to me."



Spike stared, in shock in wonder, and she looked at him like a saint forgiving a sinner. She leaned in and hugged him again, and he gripped her back. Holding, cherishing, wanting- All at once.



It took him a minute to realize that she was trying to pull back. When he did he immediately released her and then worried about the questioning look in her eyes. She met his, and asked, "What'd you do with the letter?"



Ah. The letter.



Of course she'd be curious. He knew she wasn't trying to get a glimpse of it, she'd never request something so personal. But he understood why she was asking about it. Her mother and grandfather had died suddenly, in a fire, and not much was left behind after; except for the necklace Buffy wore even now, and a pocket watch of her grandfather's. She kept both and cherished them, and she wanted to know if Spike had felt the same about his letter, or if it was too painful a memory to keep.



The message Dawn had written moved with Spike over the years, wherever he went he had it somewhere safe. And at some point, he'd stuck it in a book, a very old one which he coveted; that way both hiding the letter from his own eyes, and keeping it safe.



He remembered the last time he'd read it, back at the MayBell library, a little over a month ago.


Chapter End Notes:
Honestly, I just want to say thank you for every review. I love them, and the nicest thing is that nobody HAS to send them, but some make it to me anyway. I appreciate them very much. Constructive criticism is always welcome, too.

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