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The Friday between Michael's attack and the weekend following was a long one for Spike. He spent a majority of it in his car, keeping an eye on Joe before biting the bullet and abandoning post to make it to Bandoni's garage on time. Jack called Buffy while he was gone, to check up; she stayed in that day.

She stayed in Saturday, too, though Spike didn't know it. All he knew was that Joe was stuck at his father's body shop working nonstop over the weekend. Shaun was with him most of the time. Larry, too, except for one absence Sunday afternoon. He returned within an hour, truck bed loaded, edges of furniture poking out from beneath the cover of a tarp.

No one had said anything, but Spike gathered Buffy risked doing business with Larry again, prior to Michael's attack, likely mollified by promises that Joe would behave himself. Seeing the evidence this weekend, followed by all lack of uproar from either of Larry's sons eased Spike's initial reaction to the conclusion.

Sooner or later, he knew this vigilance would meet an end. He couldn't be there every moment he wanted on Sunday due to work; fear had to be quelled. He didn't shadow Joe for nearly as long Monday either, but Jack came in handy again, letting Spike know Buffy was still alive and answering her phone.

The boy suggested he ease up on the 007 routine, pointing out the fact the sheriff was well aware of the situation. Spike already knew this, had been told before. He even saw Al drop by the Gregory house on Friday. It was unlikely Joe would bother anyone, especially Buffy, ever again.

Once Tuesday rolled around, Spike did manage to relax to some extent. Convinced Joe was actually less of a maniac than Michael O'Henry, and holding faith in Al's intimidation tactics, he managed to pass the Gregory residence only once on the way to work.

He considered it an improvement. As long as he knew neither Joe nor his brother were skulking around town, and Michael was still under strict police observation, he could calm himself enough to act like a normal human being. Or as close to normal as he ever got.

If Buffy was safe, Spike felt steadier. He wouldn't call her again, because Thursday brought about terrible circumstances that provided a viable excuse, but he knew she was all right. Panic had begun to wane.

He merely struggled to keep from missing the sound of her voice.

***

On Tuesday afternoon, Buffy left work early and braved the school. It was the fourth week in January, and the ground was covered by the same frost that hung in the air and made it crackle. Every breath she took clawed gently down her throat, but she still spent time outside the building hoisting her will before abandoning the cold.

Students wouldn't get out quite yet. She might have come earlier if it hadn't taken her so long to process the situation. After her phone conversation with Spike and more heart jarring contemplation, she spent a majority of this slow paced weekend at home or at the store with Anya, clearing her mind. Analyzing choices, getting rest; turns out, none of it could make the following task any easier.

Robin Wood dreaded this meeting, too, and the look on his face when she finally reached his office confirmed it.

"That happy to see me, huh?"

"Usually, I am," he sighed. "Come in, Buffy. Close the door while you're at it."

She did. Then, seated across from Robin, staring over his very official desk, she absently wondered how lonely hers would seem once she cleared it out. Buffy shook her head. She wasn't looking forward to that.

"I know why you're here. And I have to say, I believe you're making a mistake."

"I know you do."

"I'm aware that I suggested you take some time off, but I'm beginning to regret it. The kids are going to need you more than ever following this incident."

Buffy smiled sadly.

"I don't think a sabbatical is necessarily going to help you in any way," he added, "and it certainly won't benefit the students."

"I'll still be around," she promised. "I'm hoping they'll understand, once word gets out, which it always does. I'm not leaving because of them." She met the principal's eyes. "And a sabbatical isn't what I was going to propose."

Robin frowned, then it dawned. He sat back heavily. "You know both boys are expelled."

"They're not the problem."

"Then why do you want to leave so badly?"

Buffy felt guilt slide into its rightful place, but it paled in comparison to the aching need for peace. She had pushed her endurance too far in the past, asked too much of herself on many occasions; this was not a situation where she could risk falling apart. Where she could put in less than her all. "I don't want to leave. I need to. Just... for now."

"How long is 'for now?' I will need to hire somebody else, if you're planning a lengthy absence." Robin stared at her dejectedly. "You are the best guidance counselor this school has ever had, Buffy. If you leave, it will ripple through the student body."

"These kids are tougher than you think," she said. "Besides, I won't be far. And if..." Here was the hard part, the scary possibility which hollowed her out. "If you hire someone new before I'm ready to come back, then I hope he or she is good at their job." *And doesn't mind sharing the responsibility,* Buffy thought, because she would never abandon these kids, and her store would always remain open to them.

"I can't change your mind?" he pleaded. "Maybe give you three weeks, even a month?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

Robin sighed again, his face crumpling in resignation. "Then I guess there's nothing left to discuss."

Buffy took her cue. She rose to her feet. "I'm grateful for the opportunity you gave me. I'm not giving up on these kids, or even on myself. I just need to set aside some responsibility for a while."

"I guess I can try to understand that," Robin conceded. He abandoned the barricade of his desk and walked her to the door. "Will you be cleaning out your office today?"

"No, I think I'll come back." She stepped into the hallway. Overhead, the final bell of the day rang and doors sprung open all around. "If that's okay?"

"Of course. You're always welcome here, Buffy," he said. "And remember, you will be missed."

Her smile was forlorn. Nodding a final goodbye, not trusting herself not to start crying, Buffy walked away.

She took her time from that point on, meandering through the school with bittersweet objectives. She didn't plan on leaving until the moment struck her. She wanted to say goodbye to the teachers and other staff.

During her journey from classroom to classroom, starting with Biology, Buffy ran into many a friendly, youthful face. Students she knew well asked her how she was, what she was doing there on her day off, and openly needled for advice, as usual. No one knew about the hectic drama of Thursday yet, but it was only a matter of time until they found out.

She received a hug from Penny, the only teenager Buffy bothered telling she had resigned. It was a somewhat tearful goodbye filled with half explained reasoning, salvaged by the girl's vow to start invading her antique shop on a regular basis.

Buffy kept reminding herself to breathe after that. She marked off a mental checklist as she traveled the school, receiving handshakes from some of the fellow staff, and tepid farewells from others. Reassured, overall, that her absence would be felt keenly, just as Robin had claimed.

She was passing the gym when she bumped into Clem, coming out of the boy's bathroom. She noted the uniform and smiled, a moment of butterfly fluttering in her chest; Spike would be arriving soon.

"Buffy, hey! I heard about everything that happened on Thursday."

"You did?"

"Yeah. That Roger guy's not a real friend," he whispered conspiratorially, "but between us, he's a great gossip. Mr. Wood only just told him everything today."

Buffy rolled her eyes. It definitely wouldn't be long before the student body found out. The town would be abuzz by tomorrow.

"So, how are you?"

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

"That's good! I was really worried when Roger told me. I mean, I know you're made of tough stuff and all, but jeez, an ice pick!"

Buffy smiled tightly, resisting the urge to rub her neck. "I'm with ya there."

"That Jack Winton kid's pretty top notch, though, huh? I mean, how he stepped in and everything. That was pretty heroic!"

"It was."

"I don't know many men who would do something like that. Well, except for Spike, of course, but Jack's just a kid!"

Buffy nodded softly.

"It makes sense. What with both having such similar backgrounds, don't ya think? Though Jack's been a bit luckier in that respect."

She frowned, curiosity pricking like a thorn. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Jack's been... adjusting. He's had an easier time shucking the bullies than I ever did, and certainly more chance than Spike had."

Buffy lost curiosity in place of genuine interest. "You... You were bullied, Clem?"

The kind man who talked a lot went quiet for a moment. His voice was heavier when he answered her, remaining so until he spoke of other people again. "I was. When I was little. It was hard, but I've managed to do okay for myself. I have friends now. It took me forever to hook Spike, though. Think his history had a lot to do with that."

Buffy bit her lip, resting against the wall and nervously crossing her arms. She lowered her voice. "Does Spike ever... Has he ever talked about what he went through? I mean, I know it happened. I met one of the people who did it, but... I don't really know any of the details."

After Buffy asked her question, she wasn't sure she wanted to know the details. Sudden tightening in her chest and apprehension creeping along her spine argued she didn't.

But Clem was already talking; and the inner need to know more, understand more, raised its head to offer steadfast support. Just barely.

"He's talked some," Clem replied. "Not a whole lot though. Private type of guy, Spike. But I'll tell you one thing, it was like pulling teeth getting him to hang out with me. I think he developed a pretty bad inferiority complex after everything. Huge hermit for a while there. Huge. Ya know, the kind of person that hides from society?"

"Yes."

"He didn't like anyone. Or maybe he was just afraid, but Spike never pursued things he liked to do either. He certainly didn't have many hobbies when we started hanging out."

*He had one hobby,* Buffy thought. A hobby of watching a girl he claimed to love, in secret.

"Sad, when you think about it," Clem went on. "Guy didn't feel... worthy, I guess is the right word. Spike told me once that after moving here he was pretty invisible. Suppose after a while, he just took the roll on fulltime. Got his heart broken some years ago, too, which didn't help." Clem shrugged. "He was dealt a bad hand, poor guy. Barely talked at work either, but then that changed. Might've had something to do with you, Buffy."

She jerked back. Her heart was already twisting into knots from Clem's story but now it was pounding wildly like a doorknocker in the wind. "Me? Why- Why do you say that?"

"I know you two dated. I know it ended, too, I'm sorry to hear. But Spike began to act differently 'round the same time you got the guidance counselor gig, way before he and I started hanging out." Clem rolled his eyes quickly. "Two men laughing over mop buckets is fine, but work is work. Watchin' soap operas, now that'll build a friendship. Spike's a cool guy."

Buffy nodded absently. "I, um..." She gestured to herself, unable to say what she was thinking. Unable to speak in a non-emotional way about anything involving Spike. She latched onto something else Clem had said. "I'm not actually going to be working here anymore. I'm taking a break."

He looked saddened by the news. "Oh. I'm sorry, Buffy. That blows."

She smiled quietly.

"You'll be missed."

"Thanks." She tucked her hair behind her ears, pointing at his uniform. "Do you need to get to work?"

He smiled, tugging his collar away from his chest. "You bet. I'm sorry to cut the conversation short, though."

"It's all right."

"I'll see ya 'round, Buffy." Clem began to smile, then stopped. He lowered his voice and asked, "Uh, do me a favor? Please don't tell Spike anything I told you. I wouldn't want to get a reputation as a gossip, like some people."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"Thanks." The man sighed in relief, nodding goodbye. He waved cheerily, his steps easy beside a rolling janitorial cart.

Buffy turned, realizing she now faced an empty hallway. The students had all filed out. She could hear laughter in the distance, smell the familiar scents of cold air and salt. The floors were sprinkled with it, evidence of what ice remained outside, courtesy of last week's storm. Another token of January's esteem for Wisconsin's semi-wilderness.

She headed towards the parking lot, staring at the tile beneath her shoes. Clem's voice started to echo through her mind. Every word felt like a solidification of things she hadn't known for certain, but somehow suspected, in the very back of her heart. Behind hurt and mistrust and uncertainty, even behind fear, compassion hid. Understanding lived.

Hope survived.

Buffy shut her eyes on a sigh of release, then stopped suddenly when she bumped into a wall.

She knew almost immediately that she had been wrong. It wasn't a wall, but a person. "Oh, I'm sorry, I-"
The woman looked up, realizing second who the person was. "Spike."

"Buffy," he gasped, stuttering in shock. He stopped and drank her in like he could do nothing less, but fought the urge all the same. Suddenly he was looking away, at the walls, the ground, his hands; anywhere but her face. It appeared he'd forgotten some rule and was desperately trying to make up for ignoring it, while Buffy experienced a sense of déjà vu. "What are you doin' here?"

"I came to see Robin," she admitted. She was breathing fast but didn't attempt to stop it. Her heart felt different now. So much different than it had all the other times Spike was in front of her ever since she found those pictures. Lighter.

More open?

"You came to- Oh. Right." Spike stepped back, realizing just how close they were standing. "Discussin' what happened?"

"Sort of. I've... I've decided to take some time off."

He finally met her eyes, worry evident. "Time off? From the school?"

"Actually, more like... quitting. For a while."

"You're lettin' those wankers who tried to-" His jaw muscles ticked. "You're lettin' 'em run you out of town, s'that it?"

"No. That's not it. They're both expelled, Shaun and Michael."

He swallowed thickly enough that she could see it. "Then why?"

So confused, so uncertain that question. He was actually upset she was leaving, and Buffy didn't know why. Spike didn't visit her office anymore. He'd given up two days a week just to stay away from her. "Why do you care?"

"Because this is what you love," he exclaimed, making her blink in surprise. "This is what you're made for. You make a bloody difference. You see in these kids what no one else does, make 'em feel wanted, needed. "

She looked down. "Like they're not invisible?"

"Exactly..." His voice trailed away, and forced composure settled into the lines around his mouth. Resignation, awareness creeping through like water trickles over a frozen ravine. Spike sighed. He looked away again.

"I'm not going far," she said weakly. "Students can still visit me at the store, and I'm not saying I'm giving this job up indefinitely. I just need a break." Buffy twisted her hands together, pausing briefly. "I haven't given myself that in the past when I've needed it, and I learned the hard way. These kids are too important to me to risk giving them anything less than my best."

Spike turned, searching her face blatantly and for so long Buffy was beginning to feel naked. Somehow it was an unthreatening sensation, and she didn't experience any urge to cross her arms or turn away.

"You sure this is what you need?" he murmured.

"I wouldn't leave if I wasn't sure."

A moment passed where neither said a word. "Fair enough," he sighed. Then, "What did Wood do when you told him?"

"He was upset. He wanted me to stay, but..." She shook her head.

Spike nodded shallowly.

"I know what you did for Jack," she blurted. "How you taught him to fight."

His eyes bulged. "Bloody hell!"

"Don't worry, I'm not mad," she placated, snaring the panic in his eyes, stalling it. "I know why you did it. Maybe, at the beginning, before I took this job I would've been upset."

She paused meaningfully, and Spike's fear turned to suspicion, which turned into uncertainty. "But now you're not?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. I can't be. Jack was going through hell and you made it easier on him. Kept him safe without letting him cause more trouble for himself. You protected him."

The following quiet finished what she couldn't say. "I won't fault you for that." Spike saw it, heard its echo. Comprehension came slower. He cleared his throat and nodded brusquely, even if his voice was softer than he'd like it to be. "Kid's learned a lot. He protects himself now."

"But you're there for him." Her big green eyes overflowed with honesty, luminous as ever and lined with kindness Spike hadn't expected to receive. "You were there on Thursday, after everything."

He nodded, then thought about it for a moment. "How'd you-"

"I have caller ID. You went over to his house to check on him when you heard there was a fight, didn't you?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Then you called to check up on me."

"But it was just that," he muttered intensely. "Just a call."

"I know." *But it was more than that,* Buffy thought to herself. More because he cared enough to bother, and even more because Spike was telling her the truth. His fear was plain, but it had been just a call. A harmless phone call from a far distance. Something that posed more risk to his peace of mind than her own.

Only there was no more fear, no leftover belief claiming he might hurt her. That he might follow her without her knowledge. Such concerns had fallen away long ago. What Buffy felt here and now was a kind of comfortable anticipation. Something easier, something that spoke of healing.

"Are you busy right now?" she asked softly.

Spike shook his head. "No. I mean-" He gestured to his uniform, peeking out from behind the leather wall of his coat. It had been a while since she'd seen either on him. "S'posed to start workin' soon. Just got in, but m'not used to bein' on time so I have a few minutes."

She bit her lip. "Can you... Would you mind driving me home?"

Spike nearly fell over. "M-Me? Drive- What about your car...?" The same instant he realized his own stupidity for questioning her, recent memories secured an answer.

"Can't drive without tires," she joked.

Spike grew tense, which was rather amazing considering how wobbly his knees felt. "Right." He cleared his throat. "I'll drive you."

"You sure?" she asked. "You won't get in trouble for leaving?"

"No, 'course not," he said, uncertain whether he told the truth. "Wood won't mind."

Buffy began making her way down the hall again, towards the exit. "What about Roger?" she smirked.

Spike stayed at her side. His heart leapt into the air as he smiled back. "He's got Clem to pester. Won't bother with me."

"If I didn't know better I'd say he wants to be Clem's friend."

"Why's that?"

"I talked to him just before I ran into you," she said. "Apparently Clem found out about the... incident, from Roger. I didn't know he was a gossip."

"Neither did I," Spike muttered. "Git's never spilled anyone's secrets to me, that's for sure."

"I'd count myself lucky." They shared dual grins of amusement. A comfortable quiet settled on their journey to the parking lot. They couldn't avoid passing her office on the way. Buffy tried not to stare at the door too hard, ignoring her name on the gold plate entirely as she watched her shoes.

"Have you cleared it out yet?" Spike asked. He sounded unsure of the question.

"No. I told Robin I wanted to come back and do it, but..." Buffy shrugged tightly as they left the vacant office behind.

Spike added nothing. It was easy to see she didn't want to say the words, admit she was scared or hurting, needed to avoid the task. He wondered how long it would take her.

They were tugging their jackets closer to their chests a moment later, when frigid air took the place of comfortable, manmade heat. Lumpy snow piles wrapped around the parking lot like a picture frame. Dry beads of salt crunched under their shoes. A lonely DeSoto awaited.

The seats were still warm when Buffy sat down, letting Spike close her door before settling against cushy leather. Mother Nature hadn't had time to cool the vehicle yet. Buffy was grateful when Spike closed his door quickly to block out the chill.

He wasted no time in turning the key in the ignition. "So, how'd you get here if your car is..."

"Out of commission?"

He scoffed ironically. "Yeah."

"Cab. Took it from work." Buffy shrugged, turning a smile on him as they curled out of the parking lot. "It's been a while since I rode in one."

"How was it?"

"Smelly." She wrinkled her nose. "But familiar. Remember how I told you it took me a while to get my license?"

Spike threw her a shy glance. "Yeah."

"Well, whenever my mom couldn't drive me to school during the winter, or I was running late, which had a tendency to happen, I'd call a cab. It was fine taking my bike or walking when the weather was nice." She gestured to the window glass, and the white landscape surrounding them. "But not when it was like this. I always wore shoes I couldn't afford to ruin in the slush."

Spike chuckled quietly, more breath than sound. "Friends never offered you a ride?"

"Oh, no, they did sometimes. I wasn't always wasting my allowance," she laughed, "especially after I met my first boyfriend. He drove everywhere."

Spike nodded to show he'd heard. Amusement faded.

Buffy faced the windshield again. She glanced carefully at her driver, pretending to study her lap where she folded her hands. Squeezing them, Buffy took a deep breath. Rejuvenated tension made her aware of her own pulse, of the way the air in the car felt thick with artificial heat and the dead silence of Spike's thoughts. She wondered, not for the first time, what he made of her request. He hadn't put up so much as a token protest, hadn't hesitated in providing her with a ride home. He merely proved he kept his word, again.

She remembered Christmas Eve. What he'd said. When he found her stranded on the side of the road with frozen fingertips and little more than determination backing her first attempt at a tire change. He told her he would always be around, that she could always call, and he wouldn't cross the line ever again.

Evidently, Buffy was right in assuming things hadn't changed, but the way he refused to utter more than quick responses or short questions made it obvious where he felt he stood.

He didn't know what to make of her asking this favor. Spike had forgone questioning it, choosing to remain respectfully distant as he opened the car door for her instead. She didn't know if the silence was for his benefit or her own.

Just when they reached the halfway point between school and her house, and Buffy was about to ask if the radio worked, Spike flipped it on. She froze while he fiddled with dials, keeping the volume low, eventually landing on a station playing top hits from the nineties and now.

No heavy metal, no punk rock, no underground beats. Buffy failed to subdue her smile. "Suddenly develop a thing for Train?"

He turned as if she'd shouted, gaze wide and stunningly unsure. "Not... No. Can't say I have."

She grinned, remembering the dinner, the CD player, Red Hot Chili Peppers. "That might change if you keep listening to this station."

Spike watched her wave at the radio face. Something warm had erupted in his chest the moment she spoke, talking about a band he loathed but knew she liked. They'd had this conversation before. "Put it on for you," he admitted, then tacked on: "Doesn't mean I'll be brainwashed anytime soon."

*We'll see about that,* she wanted to say. The moment passed before she could harness her courage, and Buffy let it. Another song started, the former fading into a dance beat currently on a rage through the states. Buffy changed the station.

Spike sent her a visibly grateful look.

"Not a fan of that one."

"Thank God," he said, and they both laughed.

The radio became the chief narrator of their winter drive, spitting out fragile melodies and lyric variations. Buffy let herself relax. She allowed the music to be enough, because as she twiddled her thumbs and stared out the window at fields blanketed with snow, words seemed too small. Talking about what she felt equated to trying to discern one language by referencing the dictionary of another. Unreliable as she was with getting her meanings across in English, Buffy chose to stay silent.

Spike's own mind wandered towards hopeful notions that may skewer him before the day was over. They remained sadly, consistently unpromising.

He couldn't guess what pressed her to ask him for a lift home; she could have easily taken another cab. She could have petitioned Wood, or even Roger. Spike would think anyone offered better company than him; and further peace of mind, if nothing else.

It was what he would have thought anyway, before they bumped into each other. Before she neglected to run away cursing, and addressed him with a very strange question on her smiling lips.

Smiling. Spike threw a heavy glance out his peripheral. He hadn't believed he would see that smile again, yet Buffy proved him wrong today. Now here they were, alone together for the first moment in what he could only describe as a lifetime of distance. She teased him from the passenger seat of his old car while he marveled. These days, Spike wouldn't have dared hope for such a moment.

He wouldn't have hoped for so many things before meeting her. Buffy opened something up inside him Spike didn't realize could be unlatched. Even when he no longer deserved to be treated with friendly manner, she did that, too. She was acting as if they were two ordinary people, respectful and kind to one another, despite the heaping of baggage in between.

He swallowed, staring hard at the road. They weren't far from her house. To be welcomed onto her property again would be a gift, even if he was only dropping her off. A reassurance that he wasn't the demon she believed him. The entire situation already rattled Spike like a pond in an earthquake, and he tried to tell himself it all didn't mean anything. Maybe it showed she was willing to work on trusting him, just a bit, but it certainly didn't mean anything more; it probably meant much less.

So, with effort, he kept his mouth shut. The quiet bothered him, though, and time was blinking away. Music couldn't stand high enough in this crowd of two. Minutes soon found themselves past, eaten up despite the slick streets. It was a short drive even in this climate.

He couldn't help himself when they finally reached that dead end road he knew so well, that she knew even better. Black barked, snow laden branches created a twisted, gaping canopy overhead. The finish line, a forest bunched together in the windshield frame, stood tall as mountains. Spike saw the turn coming, felt this miracle trip creeping away like lost opportunity. "Do you..."

She gazed at him patiently.

Spike looked to the gas pedal, easing up. "Do you know when you'll go back to get your things?"

"From where?"

He paused. "Your office.

Buffy frowned. "Oh." It was her turn to stare at the floor. "No. I told Robin I wanted to come back, which is why I didn't get everything today. Plus, the no car thing, but... now I'm not sure."

"You're not?"

She shook her head. Spike made the turn into her driveway. Nothing but footprints and a set of tire tracks marred the smooth, snowy sheet blanketing her front yard. Buffy's eyes were trained on it, filling with uncertainty and pain. A chill crept along his skin. It was pain he'd caused, because he was desperate enough to bring up the damnedest decision she'd made in a long time.

Spike squeezed the steering wheel after putting the car in park. He expected her to hop out, which by all means she should, if not for all the other unspoken reasons then because he'd just taken it upon himself to act like an ass.

Buffy surprised him and remained still. Softness returned to her cheeks as she said, "I know the whole thing doesn't make sense, but I don't think..." She swallowed her emotions like tablets. "I don't think I should go back until I'm sure. Until I'm ready. I don't know why, it's just... there."

Spike allowed a deep breath. "Think the kids would like to see you from time to time, Buffy."

"I know. Which is why they can visit me at my shop. They know it. They all did over Christmas break."

"That's 'cause you're good at what you do," he said plainly, making her look up again. "You're someone they need in their lives."

Her eyes grew quickly damp, shimmering with gray radiance from a half lit winter sky. She held it all in. "I'm not so sure... but I'm still here."

Spike wanted to argue, wanted to tell her he didn't think she should leave. Again. And again he knew he'd lose the battle, because this was something no one else but she could mend. A feeling only Buffy could come to terms with.

Then he remembered what she'd said, how she didn't want to put pressure on herself and break. How she learned in the past not to take on what felt heavier than she could bear, lest it all come crashing down. He knew from conversations had today and months ago that Buffy did not want to give the teenagers in this town anything but her very best. Anything but her everything. If she was unsure she could continue doing that right now, even if Spike had all the faith in the world in her, then perhaps she deserved a break.

He didn't have to fully understand it; he just had to be there, if she wanted him. "I can get your things."

Buffy's eyes were made darker for the shadows around them, black leather reflecting off widening pupils. She got very blinky. "You can what?"

"Get your stuff, from your office, drop it all off." He lost his nerve and started speaking chin inclined, fixing all attention on words alone. "Won't rifle through anything, if that's a notion. You have my word." He glanced at her stunned face, then wished he hadn't. "I could just leave it at the shop, f'you like. Wouldn't have to come by your house."

A gentle line gathered between her brows. "You'd do that?"

Spike finally found bravery. He nodded and looked up, courageous, frightened.

She waited an hour, it seemed, before answering. He wondered if she would, or if she may just ignore the issue altogether and leave. They'd been parked in front of her house for a while now, and Spike didn't know what could keep her sitting beside him on a smoky old bench seat asides from this.

"Okay."

He stopped himself from balking. "'Okay?'"

"Yes. I... I would appreciate it."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Spike."

"But-"

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?" she teased, instantly shutting him up. "It would be easier. You get that."

He nodded. "'Course."

"And you don't have to bring it to the shop. Here is fine." She broke away, embarrassed. "There's no rush, either. I know you're not working at the school as much as you used to."

Spike shifted imperceptibly.

"Jack told me you dropped two days a week," she murmured, "to make time for your new job."

"Jack told you that?"

She nodded. "He's like a little bird tweeting between us."

"Guess so."

"Only good things on this end," she swore. "He's definitely in your corner. I think you made a friend for life."

"He's a good kid."

"Yeah, he is."

Silence returned, fresh as the frost. Spike refused to switch the heat off, knowing it would serve as incentive for Buffy to leave if winter seeped through the cracks. But somehow, even with toasty air fanning through the interior of the car, a chill was settling.

"You try hard to stay away now, don't you?"

What a question. He felt it rattle from his toes to the top of his scalp. Spike couldn't answer right away. Buffy lifted one knee onto the seat so she could face him completely. She waited.

Words scratched his throat. "It was hell at first." He looked into her eyes. "But not why you're thinkin'."

"Oh?"

"I stopped... following you when we started seein' each other, before I even knew it was goin' somewhere." He shook his head. "After a time, realized I didn't want to do it anymore. Already knew how you'd feel about it, knew it wasn't right. 'Sides, it paled in comparison to spendin' an hour with you." He lowered his voice, steadied it. "After you found out, the need to see you never went away; but it was different then. Wasn't because I thought it was as close as I'd ever get anymore."

He stopped again, his words falling to a husky waver. "I've missed you more than I can bloody bear it, but following you isn't somethin' to fix that. I won't hurt you. Didn't want to then, and I won't do it again."

She swallowed thickly. "You said most of that before," Buffy whispered.

"Meant it. I'd never do what I did, now. Still no way to say sorry for it, other than to leave you be. Stay away."

"Maybe you don't have to try so hard."

A scowl pinched his brows together. "How's that?"

"Maybe," she breathed, "you don't have to try so hard anymore... to avoid me."

He froze. In the abrupt stillness Buffy felt her nerves rise like the sun, heating her skin. She looked away from him, from the shock absorbing her into twin blue eyes. She remembered how Spike had quit for her, his bad habits and his job two days a week. Now, he was due back, and she was holding him up.

Buffy reached for the door handle.

He said her name. She stopped.

"Do you mean that?" Calm he didn't feel poorly masqueraded his voice, and she could hear the trembling.

Staring at her shoes, she said, "I meant it," and left the car.

Spike watched until she disappeared inside. Just before closing her front door, Buffy waved to him. A timid smile was his farewell.

He couldn't move. After a minute or two he obtained control of his hands again, and drove off with deep breaths shaking him from the inside out. The feel of the heat blasting was too much. He rolled down his window and flew along the back road, frigid air cutting across his cheeks.

Spike looked out at the barren fields, the setting sun; for once this icy landscape didn't match a thing he felt inside. His eyes were damp and he was warmer, lighter, than he'd been in weeks.





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