=Carefully to Tread=

The music swells and carries them towards each other, the promise of what's to come exhilarating and terrifying them simultaneously.

I touch the fire and it freezes me.

I died…

I look into it and it's black.

…so many years ago…

This isn't real, but I just wanna feel.

"What?"

Spike pauses, his face hovering inches from his destiny. The flash of pain shows so briefly in his features that Buffy doesn't have time to interpret it. She tilts her head and, for scant seconds, he feels the pull of the inevitable before he disengages.

He steps back.

"No. Buffy…no." His voice is heavy with emotion. The pain of that one word, 'no,' weighing on him like an anchor. Buffy, her eyes half-closed with expectance, freezes mid-motion. She looks up at him and he retreats even further. He throws up his shield against what he knows will be her attack.

"No."

She blinks once…twice, confusion knitting her soft brow. Then the tears begin to collect in her unfathomably dark eyes. Hazel was never a color associated with the night until she mastered it and made it her own. Spike's unnecessary breath catches as her arsenal of beauty threatens him. The dim streetlight rises above the call of duty to cast her in the most flattering light. She looks like an angel to him; dark and troubled and falling; looking to him to break that fall. Break it or perhaps hasten it.

"But I thought…"

"That I wanted this? Wanted you?" The strength in his voice is betrayed by the tremble in his limbs.

"Yes." She doesn't say it, she breathes the word. It's a prayer, a plea for help; for penance. She takes a step towards him and the sounds of stringed instruments fill the air with a melody so sweet, so melancholic that it makes him shiver. He doesn't want this. Not like this.

You said that I was your…everything.

"You are, Buffy-"

You said, since you'd met me, nothing's been the same.

"Buffy, please. Don't. Not like this."

I stand before you an empty shell, trapped in a personal Hell and I ask you to give me what I need to survive.

He squeezes his eyes shut just as hers open wide to release a torrent of tears. The muscles in his jaw clenching as his nostrils flare.

Buffy wants so badly to forget. Or to remember. Just to feel…something. She reaches for him in a moment of desperation and, only sensing her movement, he counters it, staying just beyond her reach. She stops, on the brink of collapse at the rejection from the one…person…she thought understood.

I need you…to make me feel alive.

He opens his eyes and a wall of emotion breaks over him. He opens his mouth to speak and nothing comes out. Not a sound. His mouth snaps shut and he begins to slowly back away, shaking his head. There will be no 76 trombones, not for them.

His pace quickens as he stumbles backwards, eyes locked in hers; registering her fear. Her confusion. He turns quickly and breaks into a run, disappearing into the night and leaving her there alone and numb. Just like him.

"Buffy?" Dawn's small voice calls Buffy out of her staring match with the empty space that Spike had occupied only moments ago. She turns, lethargically, to her sister and can't think of a thing to say to her.

'Are you alright?' 'Where is everyone?' 'Let's go home.'

All perfectly legitimate things to say, but all she can muster is "Hey." Barely. Her voice is caught in another conversation.

"You…you alright?" Dawn, sensing more than the two feet of distance between them, approaches her cautiously. "I, Buffy…I didn't know…what they had done. What they had planned. I didn't know." Buffy looks down, unable to meet Dawn's eyes. She realizes that this is the first of many conversations she will be forced to have now that Xander's demon has toppled her fragile house of cards; eliciting the truth in the most painful way possible.

Her world hasn't just fallen apart. It has imploded.

Her friends, the ones she'd died to protect, had robbed her of her reward. And even the sacrifice of saving them from that knowledge has been negated in one rock-opera moment.

"I'm…fine. Dawn, we should...let's-" Her thoughts are fragmented. This isn't the right scene. It's as if the script is a last-minute rewrite. Spike. She should talk to him. And say what, exactly? She'd just asked him to give her something to sing about; to love her without the possibility of having it returned. And she wants to, what…to apologize?

She can't love him. She can't love anybody. And no one should be able to love her, all torn and broken and empty. But she knows that he cares and to think of what she'd just said…sang…to him. He doesn't deserve that.

Dawn's eyes, so innocent even with all that they've seen, dance around her face nervously. She doesn't know how to react to Buffy these days. And now…

"You wanna go home?" She half-smiles.

"Yeah." Buffy awkwardly places her arm around Dawn, feeding on her warmth and vitality. She suddenly feels like a vampire herself. "Let's go home." They walk slowly, arms around each other's waists.

"Where's Spike?" Her quiet question startles Buffy. She wonders if her thoughts have betrayed her. She shrugs.

"Dunno. Home, I guess." That comes out much more nonchalantly than she thought she was capable of.

"We should thank him."

"For what?"

"For saving you. All of us."

"Huh?" Buffy stops and looks at Dawn.

"Buffy…that song…you were dancing. Out of control, I saw it. We all did. And then he stopped you. He was the only one that could." Dawn's voice begins to tremble and tears form in her eyes. She'd come close to losing her sister a second time. That's two times too many.

"I…" Buffy frowns. Dawn is right, Spike had saved her life. Again. And probably everyone else's as well. Again. She swallows hard and looks at Dawn. "Let's go find him." Dawn's face moves from confusion to joy in one fluid motion of flawless skin.

"OK." She smiles and takes Buffy's hand. They speed walk to the crypt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike had thrown his duster on the floor when he'd gotten home, heading for a half-empty bottle of Glen Livet he'd nicked from the store. Even with the promise of the smooth, amber liquid he knows that he is three bottles short of really being able to lessen the dull ache in the center of his chest. This liter or so of relief would do little to soothe the lump in his throat, much less anything else. But he's out of options.

He knows what she wanted. He just can't fathom it; the idea of being in her arms…touching her skin.

He shudders when he thinks of what he walked away from. A dream. But they've been…close. Not friends, never that, but close. They have an understanding. He's been her sounding board, in addition to being her punching bag, and he's found a sort of peace in that role.

Perhaps one day it will turn into…no. Of course it won't. It will never be what he wants it to be. She will never allow herself…never lower herself to…

Spike grips the neck of the bottle, near to the point of shattering it. He grits his teeth, stretches out his neck and exhales a deep, slow breath. He pulls the cork out of the bottle and tosses back a stiff shot or three, setting it on the ratty coffee table as he falls into his favorite, and only, chair.

Better. Soon to be much better, if he can get his hands on some more. Yeah, that's what he needs, more. He picks up the bottle again.

"You're good to me, you are." He caresses the smooth glass, which feels warmer than it should. Softer. "You don't mock me or tell me I'm evil and all that rot, do you now?" The bottle answers with a sloshing sound as he spins the liquid inside; mesmerized by the mini-whirlpool. He takes another swig and clutches the bottle to his chest, cradling it like something precious.

The sob catches him off-guard. He hadn't even noticed the tears on his face. He wipes his cheek with his hand and looks at the clear wetness with something close to surprise. He closes his eyes in disgust and runs the hand through his hair. The tears are undaunted, however, and they fall unheeded. He doesn't care enough to stop them. There's no one here to hide them from anyway, and he's done denying the truth. She'll never love him.

It's not that she's ashamed to tell anyone what she feels, it's that she doesn't feel it and she is ashamed that he does. He laughs. It's a sorry sound, halfway between a sob and a chortle. His tears ignore the humor; the irony of his situation. It's through this dim fog of self-loathing that he hears the soft knocking at the door. He chooses to ignore it, but the visitor comes in anyway.

"Sp-…Spike?" Dawn's melodic voice draws him out of his stupor.

"Bit?" He cranes his head towards the door. "That you?" Dawn steps inside the crypt followed by Buffy. Spike, surprised as all hell, stands up and nearly topples the bottle off its precarious armrest perch.

"Something wrong?" He approaches them, immediately sober. "Is Sweet still here? You need me to take care of him for you?"

Buffy can't help it, she smiles. "No, we-" She looks at Dawn for back-up. "We came to thank you."

He tilts his head, easing back from his tension, and stands there perplexed. "For?"

"The…saving…of…me. Of us! Everyone. All of us." She finishes lamely. Even Dawn groans.

"Spike, what you did back there. That was good." Dawn gingerly approaches him. "Thanks for stopping Buffy from becoming toast."

Ah, so that's it. The niblet wanted to come over and big sis escorted her. Spike is okay with that, as long as they leave. Right now.

"S' nothing." He doesn't offer anything more and turns back to his bottle of comfort. Maybe they'll take the hint. He's unsure how he is able to stand in the same room with Buffy at this moment. Perhaps Dawn is the buffer, none of the emotional electricity threatening to strike at the two of them. Not right now anyway.

"Ok, well…we just wanted to do that, so…" Dawn and Buffy back away to the door. When Spike doesn't respond, not even to turn and look at them, Dawn shrugs and opens the door. Buffy lingers a moment, wanting to say something…anything…that will make what she'd said earlier go away. Instead she silently follows her sister through the door and back out into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They walk across town in silence; Dawn stealing occasional glances at her sister who is so obviously somewhere else.

"Buffy?" Buffy looks at her and realizes she's been giving her the silent treatment.

"Sorry. I'm just…it's been a hard day." She offers a wan smile.

"Yeah." Dawn answers quietly. She wants to ask so many questions. What was Heaven like? Was their mother there? Does she really hate it here and want to go back? Buffy knows that these questions are out there; she can read them in Dawn's eyes. In an attempt to answer them and assuage some of her fears, she quietly slips her hand into her sister's and gently squeezes.

Dawn smiles, her lip trembling.

Buffy stops and pulls her sister into an embrace.

"I'm sorry Dawnie," she whispers into her hair. "I…I don't mean to be so distant."

"Buffy…god…what are you talking about? What you've been through…what you're going through…god…" Dawn buries her face in Buffy's shoulder, the tears finally taking over. They stand on a corner a few blocks from their home and make peace with each other, at last, through tears and touching; long overdue hugs and whispered apologies. Finally, Dawn pulls back, wiping her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell anyone? How could you carry that all on your own?"

"I didn't want to hurt anybody." Buffy replies quietly. Dawn huffs.

"Oh please…they pulled you out of Heaven, they deserve whatever they get." Buffy is surprised by her sister's tone.

"They…they thought I was in Hell."

"Then they're stupid." Dawn retorts. "Why the heck would they think the Slayer would be sent to Hell?" Buffy shrugs. She'd been avoiding that same question. "And they didn't tell me anything…nothing. Me or Spike." Buffy looks down at the mention of his name.

"Buffy?" Their eyes meet. "You don't know what we went through, when you were gone; Spike and I. I couldn't have survived without him."

"I know." She smiles a small smile.

"And I think I helped him too. He was a mess. I…I don't think he wanted to be here anymore."

"Well…" Buffy sighs. "Sunnydale has played host to a lot of his less than shiny moments."

"No, I don't mean Sunnydale." They stare at each other for a few seconds before Dawn's meaning becomes clear to Buffy. She frowns, shaking her head.

"No, Dawn, he wouldn't have…I mean he didn't…"

"Buffy. You didn't see him. And if you don't think he would have done it, then you really don't know him. He stayed for me, probably because you asked him to. Right?"

"No. Dawn…I did ask him to protect you, but he lo…" She pauses, the word stuck on her tongue.

"He loves me? Yeah, I think he does, but…god Buffy…he loves you. He really loves you."

"I…I guess." Buffy's voice is suddenly gone. It's not possible for him to love her, but then how do you explain everything that points to the opposite?

"What happened back there, after the big show-stopping number? I saw Spike walk out and you ran after him. Did you guys fight?"

"No…we…no."

"Did you catch up with him?"

"Yes." Dawn frowns at her sister's tight-lipped responses.

"Buffy…what's going on between you two?" Buffy's eyes widen enough to tell her that she isn't off-track.

"What do you mean? Nothing's between us. There is no 'us'."

"Buffy. C'mon. This is me. I'm not stupid or blind. There is something between you. I know how he feels about you, and you seem to be…warming up to him."

"I'm not. There's no warming…o-of anything." Buffy withdraws a little from their newfound closeness, her defenses resurrecting before Dawn's eyes.

"Buffy how can you be around him, knowing how he feels, and not feel…something…too?"

"Dawn, he's Spike."

"Yeah, I know who he is, do you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She bristles.

"I mean, do you really know him? 'Cause I do. And I love him so much sometimes I think I'm going to explode. When I think of my family, who my family really is? I think of you and mom…and then I think of Spike. He's family to me, Buffy. He loves us both and you…you he worships. And I don't understand how you could…how you could be around him and not feel it."

"Feel what?" Buffy's discomfort level with this conversation is through the roof, but she is too interested in what Dawn is saying to back down. Of course she knows Spike. She knows all about his twisted allegiances, his insane devotion to whatever he deems worthy. She knows all about his fantasies, having been the center of them for some time now. She knows what incredible evil he's capable of. She knows him. Doesn't she?

"Feel what." Dawn mumbles to herself. Sometimes Buffy is just so thick she wants to slap her. "Feel it. His love for you. God! I frickin' feel it. We all do, although some of us are in some wicked denial. Xan-der." Buffy snorts, she can't help it. "It's the real deal, Buffy."

"Dawn, Spike is a soulless...evil...demon-y vampire with a chip that keeps him from harming humans. He's..he's incapable of real love. Now, I admit, he's loyal and protective…but that doesn't make him safe. He's dangerous. Very dangerous and I don't like the idea of you feeling all connected to him. You spend too much time with him. And it's not good. It' s not…not safe. It's not right. It's-"

"Geez, Buffy. You have issues."

"I have issues?"

"Are you talking about me or you? You think you spend too much time with him?" Buffy's mouth hangs open, as she is struck dumbfounded.

"I…I dunno. Do I?"

"Um, I'm going to go with no. I think you need to spend lots more time with him. You need to get to know him…I mean really get to know him, 'cause I don't think you do. Not really."

"Oh and what do you propose I do, Dawn, huh? Hang out with him and go catch a flick? Go for lattes at Starbucks? Date him?" Dawn smiles at her sister's choice of words. "What?"

"I never said anything about dating him, Buffy; I just said you should get to know him. Let him in a little."

"I do. I did."

"When?"

"He…he knew."

"He knew what?"

"Where I was. Where I'd been." The look on Dawn's face makes her instantly regret what she's just admitted.

"You…you told him? About being in…"

"Yeah," she whispers. Dawn turns away abruptly and starts down the street. Buffy follows a few paces behind. Dawn stops and turns back, fresh tears showing.

"You told him…but not me?"

"Dawnie…I…like I said, I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't want you guys to feel guilty…for bringing me back."

"But I didn't have anything to do with that, Buffy!"

"I know, Dawn, I know and I'm sorry. I just…I couldn't do that to you. Make any of you feel guilty."

"But you told Spike. Why him?"

"I…he was…convenient, I guess." Dawn takes two angry steps towards her sister.

"What?" her face distorts with her disbelief.

"Spike was there and he listened and I knew he wouldn't tell anyone if I asked. I just needed to get it off my chest and he was there, so…"

"Oh…my god…Buffy. I was wrong, I was so wrong, you don't care for him. Not at all!"

"I…what do you mean?" Buffy closes the distance between them.

"If you were protecting us by not saying anything, you certainly didn't have that problem when you told Spike."

"Why should I? It's Spike." Dawn's fists clench.

"God…Buffy! What is wrong with you? Yes, it's Spike! Spike who worships you. Spike who'd die...again…for you. Spike who almost died for me. Spike who stayed here all summer and fought next to people that hate him. Spike that looked after me. Spike that broke down when you left, for weeks, and wouldn't feed. Spike that just saved your life a few minutes ago. Spike. Y'know, Spike? That guy that's in love with you?"

"He's not a guy, Dawn he's a…a…"

"A what, Buffy. What are you going to say? A monster? He's not. And he hasn't been for a long, long time. And if you took your head out of your ass long enough, you'd see that. And you'd also see that you do have feelings for him. You're just too chicken to admit it!" Buffy turns her head away.

"Dawn, I…the others…they'd…they wouldn't understand. I don't even understand." Dawn moves in front of her sister, making her face her.

"Understand what?"

"How I let this happen." Buffy's shoulders drop dejectedly. She stares off into space as her voice loses it fire.

"What's happened? Are you saying…do you have feelings for him?" Buffy's silence answers in volumes. "Buffy, he isn't Angel." Buffy's head snaps toward her.

"I know that, Dawn. This has nothing to do with-"

"Sure it does. You screwed up with Angel and people got hurt. You're afraid to make the same mistake again."

"Ok, who are you and where is my sister?"

"I'm serious, Buffy."

"I know you are and that's why this conversation stops right now. Spike and Angel are nothing alike."

"Glad you noticed." Dawn crosses her arms for emphasis.

"Of course I noticed. For one thing, Angel has a soul." Dawn rolls her eyes.

"You know, I keep hearing a lot about that and how it's supposed to make you better or whatever, but it didn't stop him from walking out." Buffy's jaw clenches as she bites back her initial response.

"He did what he thought…was…best. For everyone."

"Spike would never leave, Buffy. He stayed even when you were gone. Angel didn't even call to see how I was doing." Buffy takes a few moments to think about that. She sighs, reaching up and running her hand down the length of Dawn's hair.

"I love you."

"Love you too, but don't change the subject." They both smile.

"Take this." Buffy hands Dawn a stake.

"Why?" Dawn looks nervously at her sister, unsure of her intentions.

"I want you to go on home. Straight home. It's pretty quiet tonight, while the rest of Sweet's spell or whatever wears off, but take this just in case."

"You're not coming with me?"

"No. I have…Spike and I have some…things…to talk about." She swallows hard.

"O-ok." Dawn takes the stake and moves away slowly. "We'll talk when you get home?" She's suddenly nervous for her friend.

"Sure." Buffy says, offering a smile of reassurance. Dawn breathes a sigh of relief. Perhaps Spike is safe for tonight. "I won't be long." With that she turns and speeds away. Dawn walks the remaining blocks to the house.