Spike took a drag on a cigarette as he sat on a stone wall at Memorial Rest Gardens. This was one of Sunnydale's quieter cemeteries, since nearly half of the dearly departed had been cremated. Not much of a chance of rising as a vampire when you already would fit in an ashtray.

Although he had been doing vampire patrols for months, Spike really wasn't in much of a dusting mood tonight. Honestly, he hadn't been in the mood for nearly a week—not since Buffy's miraculous return from the dead.

The blond vampire had, of course, wanted to see her, talk with her, take her into his arms and tell her how grateful he was that she was alive. Instead, he hadn't been able to even face her, because he had failed her. On that night back in May when everything came to a head, he had promised to defend Dawn with his life … and he was a spectacular failure.

Spike buried his face in his hands. He'd had a good run as a vampire, having survived the span of two human lives. At that point on the tower, he gladly would have died for Dawn and Buffy. Instead, he survived and had to watch his Nibblet suffer through grief all these months over the fact that her sister sacrificed herself so that the younger girl might have a real life.

"Spike?"

His head snapped back up. He had been so engrossed in his own thoughts, he hadn't heard her approach. "Buffy!" he spoke in a whispered tone, afraid she would dematerialize if he shouted her name.

"I've been looking all over for you: your crypt, Willy's, The Bronze, most of the cemeteries in town," the very-much-alive-now Buffy said. "I'd about given up when I decided to give this place a shot."

The Slayer hopped up on the stone wall next to Spike. He looked into her face. She seemed tired. She seemed unhappy. Spike asked the obvious: "Why were you looking for me?"

Buffy turned her head to look straight ahead and rubbed her arms, as if she were cold on this warm autumn night. "I thought you would come to see me after … after I came back. Everyone else did. But you stayed away. I wanted to find out why."

Spike snorted and then inhaled deeply on his cigarette. "Didn't figure you'd want to see me. He glanced over at her. "Sorry, luv. Said I would protect Dawn until the end of the world. Then, let a little old demon get the better of me. Mucked it up. Just like I mucked up everything I've ever done.

The young woman wrinkled her nose at him. "Listen, Mister, if there was any mucking up, it was me. I should have gotten Dawn out of Sunnydale long before Glory ever discovered she was the Key. I was overconfident. I thought I would find a way to beat her on my home turf. I was the Slayer. Hear me roar. I had too much hubert."

The vampire shot her a quizzical look. 'Who the hell was Hubert?' he thought to himself.

"You know … hubert," Buffy prodded. "Pride much? It was something we studied back in high school."

A smile crossed the vampire's lips. "Think you mean hubris, luv."

Buffy's face reddened. There was nothing like being bested in an allusion by a vampire. "Anyhow," she continued quickly to hide her embarrassment, "so, I try to make things right by stepping in for Dawn. I die. End of Buffy story. Except, it isn't. Why couldn't I have just stayed dead?" she said with a pout in her voice.

Spike was startled. He had assumed that Buffy would be thrilled to have another chance at life. "What do you mean, Buffy?" He snuffed out what remained of his cigarette butt on the other side of the wall and let it fall to the ground.

"I finally found peace. Do you know how peaceful it is to be dead?" she asked, not expecting an answer.

"Yeah," he said. "Reckon I do."

Buffy did a double-take. "What are you talking about, Spike? I thought you loved becoming a vampire?"

"Sure, after the first kill, and all that power built up within me," he answered with honesty. "Then, being the Big Bad was the best thing that ever had happened to me. But before. When I first woke up in that coffin and had to claw my way out … it was terrifying. Don't remember being dead, really, but still know I'd been at peace."

The Slayer stared at him. At last, someone understood what she had felt. "Yes! The peace. Everyone talks about death being harps and angels and all the people you knew who died before you. I don't remember that. I mean, I wish I could remember seeing Mom … and Kendra and Jenny and Merrick. But I don't. All I know for sure is that peace."

Spike bit his lower lip and looked sympathetically at her.

"What am I going to do?" she asked him, as tears started to crawl slowly down her cheeks. "Everyone is so happy to have me back. But I'm not happy to be back. Everyone expects me to go back to normal Buffy." She shook her head. "But what's normal for someone who's been dead for five months? How can I possibly pick up the pieces?" She started exhaling sobs. Her slight body trembled, and she looked very much a frightened little girl.

'Bloody hell!' Spike thought. He was flustered on his next move. He started to reach out touch her, but what if that made it worse? She might not appreciate the sympathy of a vampire. He was no good at this kind of thing. Then again, she had sought him out. And, Drusilla - he had comforted her many times when she was weak, right? It couldn't be THAT different…. He slowly extended his own trembling right arm and put it around her shoulders.

Spike half expected Buffy to punch him out. Instead, she buried her face in his chest and pulled her arms around his waist. He raised his other arm and embraced her tightly. "I'm sorry, Buffy," he whispered in her ear. "I'm so sorry you lost your peace. I'm sorry that we all were so selfish that we wanted you back, no matter the cost to you."

They sat like that for a long time, with Spike calmly rocking her, until Buffy reluctantly pulled away and broke the moment. "I guess I'd better get going," she said as she jumped down from the wall. "They'll be sending the hounds after me if they realize I'm gone. I had to sneak out my bedroom window as it was."

"Yeah," he said. "Guess so." Then, he jumped down from the wall, too. "Let me walk you back home."

"I'm capable of walking home on my own," she snapped, in a tone was harsher than she had intended.

Spike looked stricken as his lips tightened, and his head dropped. "I know you are capable. Just trying to be …" the words nearly caught in his throat "… polite."

'Oh, damn,' Buffy thought to herself. 'Now, I've hurt his feelings.' Less than a year ago, she didn't even think he had feelings. Now, she was worried that she might have crushed them. She took a step closer to him and touched his arm. "I … I'm sorry, Spike. That was a really stupid thing to say. I've been doing a lot of that to people this past week. The nicer they are to me, the nastier I get. Do you think maybe I left my soul back in the grave?"

"Naw," Spike said. "You care too much to be all soulless-like." He gently took a strand of her hair that had fallen into her face and brushed it back behind her ear.

"You care, too," Buffy pointed out. "And you don't have a soul."

"Look how long it took me to get there," Spike said. "Better 'n' a century. Having a soul gives you the shortcut to caring…. Not that I've become a bleedin' poof or anything," he added, in an unnecessary defense of his masculinity.

"Oh, I'm sure you are still a manly-man," Buffy said with a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I'm sure you can be just as big a pain in the neck as you ever were."

"Don't know about that, Slayer," he said, as the tension between them completely dissipated, and he broke into a broad grin. "Figure I was more of a pain in the neck when I was the Big Bad, if you get my drift." He gave her a sly wink, followed by a shrug.

Buffy groaned at the literal implication of his vampire humor and laughed out loud for the first time since … since who knows when. Then, much to Spike's astonishment, she slipped her soft hand into his. "C'mon, Big Bad, walk me home."

The End