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She'd slammed the door shut on her fierce run out, and Spike was left alone in the room.

Questions and doubt, they filled him up to bursting. Her words echoed in his mind on high speed, repeating, repeating, repeating...

*"I love you."*

He'd never seen someone with so much fear in their eyes the moment she realized what she'd let slip. Spike had froze, his eyes disbelieving and he was sure, frightened, too.

Buffy had thrown on her clothes in a whirlwind of speed and haste. Spike had never seen a human move that fast before.

But he'd been aware of very little in the following moments. Not until she slammed the door and he heard the sounds of her quick footsteps pounding down the stairs, then through the front door, had he realized...

Spike went to his dresser, planning on tossing on pants then rushing after her. He had to catch her before she got too far.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he glanced absently at the door, his hands slowed, the button on his Levis closing in delay.

He shook his head, and bent to grab up a T-shirt; he stared at it.

Spike didn't know if he could go after her.

He swallowed, a painful ache making itself known in his chest. He shouldn't... Christ.

He loved Buffy, more than he did anything... but he couldn't tell her. Everyone he'd ever had touch his heart had left him. Dawn, their mum, Dru... In some way or another they'd left; he couldn't lose Buffy like that.

He couldn't curse her, he couldn't let himself be... vulnerable- He-

Spike choked on something, and released a rushed breath, pulling his shirt on in a blink. His eyes trained on his shoes in the corner and he strode to them, quickly put them on, then looked around the room in a hurry for his coat. It lay on the floor half beneath the bed.

He could not let his fears rule him, not in this. Not with Buffy. She was leaving him right now, and she might never be back if he didn't stop it. If he didn't... He loved her. He didn't know if could tell her.

Did he deserve her if he couldn't tell her, though?

Spike let his fist fly into the unmade bed, misery and frustration running through him; crumpled sheets lay already mussed beneath his hand. It was where he'd had Buffy spread and relaxed, soft and alive in his arms not ten minutes before. How had a moment of happiness like that disappeared so quickly?

How come he'd let it be ruined by not reacting to her confession? And then worse, letting her leave?

Spike hated himself, for one pure moment, he literally wanted to plunge a stake through his own heart; and it ached badly enough to beg for the dusting. He threw on his coat instead.

Growling at his selfishness and stupidity, all fears that stubbornly followed him even as he raced to the door went ignored.

Spike bounded through the hallway, past Stevo's room, and was halfway stumbling down the stairs when he flew into Blake.

The brunette's worry was tangible. He grabbed Spike quickly by the shoulders and held him with great strength to meet the vampire's eyes. "What the hell happened? Buffy just ran out of here-"

"I know!" Spike shoved him off and pursued the girl in question, his gut clenching in sync with the sound of thunder outside the windows. There was a strong storm coming, he could feel it, smell it.

He was at the front hall when Stevo's angry form stopped him short. "What's going on Spike?"

The vampire bit back a snarl. "I'm a bleedin idiot, I'll explain later." He had no intention of doing that, but it would serve him right any penance he might have to face for hurting his girl.

*She's mine. And now she thinks...* He knew he'd made her doubt... Made her possibly believe that she didn't mean as much to him as she did. Buffy was his world, but she might not know it.

And she was gone now because she was doubting his feelings in their complete; anyone would. *Fuck me.*

He pushed past the towering man and saw three others standing in the kitchen doorway. He barely spared them a glance before reaching the front door and opening it.

He heard Stevo's steel edged voice at the same frighteningly accurate moment lightning splintered the sky. "She was crying, Spike."

The vampire slammed the door, hating himself all over again in a blindingly cruel moment of unwanted knowledge.

He might very well have closed off the same girl who'd come so far in healing herself, and opening up to him.

He might lose her forever if he didn't find her damn bloody soon.

***

She didn't have her bag, just the clothes on her back. No phone, no book, no music- Just her. The rain that was starting to drip from the sky like cold tears made her shiver- Or maybe that was due to the feelings lancing through her.

Buffy had run until she was out of breath. The rain which had threatened to fall for almost ten minutes with loud growls of thunder and bright flashes of blue-white light as warning was finally keeping its word. Her clothes would soon be heavy.

She could go to Grams' place, but the idea held no appeal. Nothing really did except moving for as long as she could, in a direction away from him.

She'd never forget the look of utter shock on his face. She was sure she'd worn something similar to it; after all, she hadn't planned on telling Spike she loved him. Yet that look, combined with her own wretched fears, had sent her sprinting off.

He hadn't come for her. She wasn't sure he would.

She realized the graying sky would provide cover from the sun, but Spike had not even given a thought to feelings of this caliber, of love, judging by his surprise and the fear she'd noticed in his eyes of azore blue. He was shocked, and Buffy didn't even know how she'd said it, how the words had formed on her fearful lips. She shouldn't expect him to come after her. She'd run from him again.

The girl shook her head so hard it hurt. Raindrops splashed onto her hair and wet it again. She loved Spike more than she did herself, would offer up her life if asked to preserve his immortality, and she'd never regret the moment she'd set eyes on his arrogant form at the library so long ago.

But she shouldn't have told him. Not knowing if he felt the same for sure was better than knowing he didn't.

Buffy thought she'd seen his love for her before... she'd imagined it, clearly. It had all been wishful thinking, a trick of light to the heart's eye. She'd trusted it. She'd believed...

She'd been played.

Buffy fought off the tears that were starting again. She'd only just gotten them to stop, but now her breaths were becoming ragged, and her lungs burned like her eyes. She blinked repeatedly in an effort to gain control, stopped and wiped her face, but ended up sobbing all the same. She clenched her teeth, pounded a foot into the dampening earth as her hands covered her cheeks. Her heart was breaking, she was sure this is what that felt like. Her throat was closing up, making the rawness caused from the night before more distinct.

Buffy cried, feeling like a child as she remembered the moment in the basement like it was yesterday. She had been so sure, knowing and secure, feeling his love for her through silence.

God, she'd never been more wrong.

He cared for her, maybe very much, but he didn't love her. What man who loved a woman would let her run from him after the confession? What kind of woman let herself be so vulnerable and blind?

She was wretchedly embarrassed, and cruelly, abundantly unsure of if she'd now ruined everything.

Buffy leaned heavily against a tree as more tears poured uselessly forth, and she worked to keep her knees straight. She was tired, inside and out, and she could still feel his touch on her skin. It was pain and pleasure at once, the memories frightening in their clarity.

She heaved in several uneven breaths. She had to get a grip...

It was no use. She needed more time before she could calm down. Buffy looked around, seeing the bank of the heavy flowing river through blurry vision. It was fast and rushing, the current harsh. She knew this part of the water was rough and deep, flowing out to become a nearly bottomless lake that no one had bothered to measure the depth of.

She felt rather like the river now; disquieted, frigid, unsteady- Her heartbeat was as rapid and uneven as those waves, and Buffy had the sickening sensation she was drowning.

Then all of a sudden, in fifteen seconds of disaster, she was.

A shove, almost too quick to be felt, and a blur out of the corner of her unfocused eyes, and Buffy was falling. She toppled down the sloping ground like a thrown sack of potatoes, tears forgotten and replaced by slapping pain as her body hit hard, muddy ground. Rocks met her lower back and one kneecap.

She yelped when her body met the icy water. Water that quickly started fighting with her, pulling her below its surface and splashing into her vision, her mouth.

She coughed and flailed, trying to react in coordination and swim; the current wouldn't let her. Luckily- if you could call any part of this circumstance lucky -she was a person who floated rather than sank. Buffy treaded active water and tried to stay above the waves, but the current kept tugging her roughly back and forth, downstream. She hit boulders at their edges, grappling with wet stone to try and hang on; her grip always slipped.

The rain started pounding down. Buffy was fighting just to keep her head above water, swimming was impossible and the winds were hitting this area particularly hard. Her face and bones chilled as she battled with the river, she could just start to feel her fingers going numb.

She was going to drown. The water kept getting in her mouth and the floor of the river wasn't touchable at all. Panic was settling in; Buffy fought it almost as hard as she fought the river. She screamed and hoped that her voice would last, but she tried not to waste breath on terror alone.

She couldn't die. Not like this. Not with Grams still here, alone in MayBell. Not with Spike here- Even if he didn't love her. He would never forgive himself for not coming after her if she died. She knew how protective he was about those he cared for, and she might not be the love of his life, but she was important to him.

Buffy realized it didn't even matter if he didn't love her. She couldn't live without him. If he cared for her, that would be enough. If she survived this, anything would be enough. And Grams needed her. And Stevo was going to teach her how to pickpocket. And Dylan had found a picture of the Gem. And Spike was still in danger from Flora. There were so many reasons why Buffy couldn't die yet. She just couldn't.

Oh God, she had run from him again- The exact thing she'd promised she would never... do again...

She was running out of breath, and time. Another wave crashed over her head.

***

Spike followed her scent through the downpour. He'd been at this for almost fifteen minutes, the rain only having gotten worse, and he was ready to howl like a fucking werewolf.

She hadn't gone home. That worried him. Her scent had led him on a curving, seemingly blind chase, and still no sign of her.

The sensation of being lost wouldn't abate. He didn't know where she was. He knew the location, he knew how to get out of this part of the woods, he knew how to get to town from here, the library, his house. But Spike felt utterly lost without knowing where Buffy was.

It was like trying to follow the north star without actually seeing it; you saw the moss heavy on the trees, even had a compass, but the star wasn't shining. A cloud hid it just like the ones now covering the sky, as a thick, gray blanket of shadow.

Spike ran his hands through his hair as her scent seemed to stop. He circled like a bloodhound, but couldn't find another place where the scent picked up.

He was going to have to retrace his steps. There was nowhere for her to have gone unless she'd sprouted wings, and Spike certainly would have seen Rex flying around if that were the case-

A shout was suddenly cut off in the distance. The noise was rusty, the word forming a plea, and the voice just too familiar for him to ever mistake.

Spike bolted. To his right, he ran along the top of the riverbank. His leather duster flapped in the wet wind and his boots threatened to slip in the mud on the ground. He heard her shout again. Her voice was soft compared to the thunder and the rain, but he heard it clearly.

He tripped up then skidded to a hasty halt when her voice came back to him again, cut off even quicker than the last time, but closer, louder.

Anxious blue eyes scanned the area, up and around, down-

Spike slid along the bank and grappled with muddy, rocky terrain the next instant. He stumbled and jumped, using one side of his body for balance against the wall of slimy land.

She was in the river. Buffy was fighting waves and clinging to a bent tree branch that stuck down into the water, near a jagged boulder. She was hauling herself up, trying to climb the branch or the rock, Spike wasn't sure. His mind was reeling.

His fingers dug into the side of the steep bank, booted feet rushing on slippery terrain. Spike hurried towards her. His heart felt like it had wrapped itself into a knot. "Buffy!"

She turned her head, and the desperate, shocked look on her face nearly sent him to his knees with regret. She hadn't thought he'd come for her.

Spike ignored the gut clenching pain that realization caused, and sped sloppily towards her, making a vow that when they got out of this, when she was safe again, he would spend the rest of his unlife making sure she knew that he'd always come for her.

Always.

But he couldn't touch her. Spike met the thick trunk of the dying tree she was holding onto, between clashing waves and slick earth, its rotting bark their only lifeline at this point. The river was violent, and Spike wanted Buffy out of there before it swallowed her whole.

He wrapped his arm around the trunk and leaned out with his other, reaching for her. "Can you grab my hand?!"

Buffy's hair clung to her face, but a chilly wind whipped it out of her eyes. She clung to the branch which was her connection to land, and reached towards Spike's straining hand. Their fingers just barely touched, of course, like some sort of sick joke. Just slightly out of reach.

A wave came and pushed her further away; she grappled with the branch. Coughing, her chin pointed towards the sky as water splashed her neck, Buffy started working towards Spike again, pulling herself up the branch.

He suddenly reached her in grabbing, frantic intensity. She was hauled roughly from the river and tossed backward, over his shoulder to reach a thicker branch of the rotting tree. Buffy gasped, but didn't have time to be shocked because just as quickly as he'd thrown her over his shoulder, Spike was climbing up the riverbank's edge on all fours.

She thought she heard him shout through the rain and the pounding in her ears. Buffy dug her nails into the wet leather of his coat and prayed that vampires had the same agility that cats possessed.

Sure enough, it seemed they did. At least hers did.

Within thirty seconds they'd scrambled up the bank and reached the edge of the forest. Spike hauled them the last three or so feet and flopped unceremoniously onto the flat ground. Buffy quickly rolled off of him, coughing and taking in jittery breaths.

Now they were safe, but her heart rate wasn't calming. Spike lifted his head, fighting for breath that didn't matter as he crawled closer and enveloped her in his arms. He hugged her tight, and she him.

She buried her face in his shoulder, eyes shut tight. Her breathing started to relax, her body felt like rubber, every muscle cold and shivery, her body huddled into his. Spike's palms ran over her form in rushes, as if feeling her would prove she was really there. She pressed herself in closer and allowed the rain to cover them without a thought to the mud or the freezing temperatures in her bones.

Her skin was soaked, every fiber of her clothing, too; but she was okay. The man she loved was here, he was alive in his own way and holding her against him like it was the only thing in the world he could possibly do. She needed this always, his chilly warmth that somehow comforted and heated her, the feeling of his arms around her. Buffy needed his smiles and every stupid argument.

"Please don't leave me."

Spike pulled his head back so quick she almost lost her balance on his chest. Buffy righted herself and then felt the grip of his fingers on her jaw, directing her stare to his.

He said, "I love you."

She blinked in rapid succession as disbelief and wonder hit her with those words. It was like an hourglass had been turned on its side, so no threat of time-running-out remained.

He saw every nuance, every flicker of emotion in her eyes, and kissed her hard and desperate. When he pulled back a mere second later, his voice, filled with ardor and promise and conviction, rang clearer than the thunder overhead. "And I will never bloody leave you."

A tear fell. She couldn't help it, didn't try. She simply hugged his soaked body to hers, and just like that, reassurances were no longer needed. Buffy found that she had finally come back home.
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END NOTES: Thanks everyone for your reviews and for still reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The river scene was something that had spurred me to write this fic to begin with, I've had it in my mind for a while.

I hope you enjoyed! Reviews are encouraged! :)





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