It was dark in the alley but he was still able to see clearly. He was watching her. Her hair was longer. He noticed that first. Her beautiful soft blonde hair- longer. ‘What else had changed?’ he wondered.
‘Quit that', he thought to himself, ‘you are here to observe only. Watch only. Be only’.

So he watched her.

He was always watching her. Hell, he felt as if he had been born watching her. Seeing her from afar, never really being able to touch her, inside, where it mattered. God it ached, hurt so deeply sometimes. He moved forward, making sure to lean in the shadow, quiet as a mouse, his breath hardly stirring the air as he sighed. The darkness of the alley was like a crypt. He felt the rough, cold texture of the brick beneath his palm as he pressed it against the wall. Resting his forehead against the back of his hand, he forced himself to think clearly. Taking in deep breaths, he needed to clear his thought, become more rational-logical. But the smell of the alley, the dank feel of the brick, the darkness, all overwhelmed his senses and reminded him of a place he wanted to forget- a dark cold place-a place of fire and ice.

He looked up and noticed that she had moved out of his line of vision. Cautiously, slowly he walked to the corner and peered around to find her. Holding his breath he saw her, patrolling about fifty yards away. Not a care in the world. He smiled inwardly, good. He didn't want her to know yet. It was too early. There were so many things to process- all that had happened to him, all that had happened to her, all that would happen to them both-he needed more time.

Unfortunately, that was one thing he didn't have.

Stepping out from around the building he swiftly followed her steps, his feet making light impressions in the cool wet ground, no sound could be heard. With his coat billowing around him as he moved, the impression of gliding was acute. He tried to stay in the dark-as much as he hated it- for he knew she must not see him yet, not yet- but soon. He could watch and follow till then.

He would relish that look. The first time she saw him. It had been so long and he had worked through so much grief and anger-how is it possible he still wanted to shock her? But he knew that he would. How could she not be shocked? The summer months had brought about many changes.

She stopped abruptly. He was musing so much he almost missed it. Quickly, as not to be seen, he darted behind a nearby oak. Why had she stopped? There was nothing here. He would feel it if there was-wouldn't he? Cautiously he looked around. She was just standing there, quietly. She was facing the east, her back to him. Her head was tilted to one side slightly, almost as if she could hear a sound that wasn't there. But he knew that there was no sound to be heard, except the pounding of his heart, and she would have to be something other than what she was to hear that.

So he waited. Waited for her to move, to sigh, to breath, to show some sign that she was still there...still in this world- she was too quiet. And then he saw what had consumed her attention, the first muted colors of dawn.

His heart quickened. Time slowed. The sky began changing from soft blue grays to pale oranges and warm yellows, beautiful but still too faint to express their true color. He moved from behind the tree and began walking slowly towards her. It was time. Time she knew the truth.

The sky brightened. Pale pinks and grays being washed away by strong oranges and yellows.

And still she hadn't moved.

He was close now, within an arms length and he stopped. Waiting. The sun was almost up, the hills in the distance its only obstruction from reaching the park and spreading its pure light within. In a few minutes, even the hills would not be able to hold. He had precious little time left. It was now or never. Slowly he raised his arm, wanting only to touch her lightly on the shoulder, when suddenly she moved. Turning slowly, having sensed his presence all along, she looked.


"Spike?" she whispered, since her lungs could hold no air. "You came back."

He didn't know if the question was a shout of joy or a wail of despair, so quietly was it phrased. Dropping his arm quickly, he paused and took a deep breath. Glancing from her to the sunrise behind and back, he waited. It would be ok now. She had to see. She had to know that he was ok again. But when he raised his eyes to hers he saw no panic for him. Did she not care, was she not even surprised a little? The sun had no effect on him anymore! Wasn't that cause for rejoicing or even relief? But as his eyes drank hers in he let himself see her-really see- for the first time.

And he froze.

A cold searing chill racked down his spine. Stumbling backwards, he almost fell in his attempt to get away- to move beyond the sheer horror. Glancing so quickly from her to the rising sun that he thought he might become dizzy, he stopped retreating and fought down the revulsion. She was still Buffy to him-still his love.

As the last of the hills beyond gave up their golden treasure, he sprang into action, his choice long ago taken from him--love did that to you. Whipping off his coat, he quickly wrapped it around her and swept her up in his arms. He ran for the nearest shelter, the empty warehouse he had left only moments before.

As he ran with all his might towards freedom and the protective darkness, his mind reeled at what he had just discovered. ‘How?!’ ‘Why!?’ his mind screamed. What could have possibly happened? Weeping inside for tears that could never be shed, for lives broken apart, for love never fulfilled he ran through the warehouse doors just as the bundle in his arms began to release small puffs of smoke.

Smoldering still, Spike set Buffy down and unwrapped her.

"How?!" was all he could whisper as he looked at her, tears forming in his eyes. The paleness of her skin, the darkness of her eyes, the bright redness of lips garishly adorned with color to cover up the deadness of white. “How?” he softly repeated
"She thought it was what you would want" was her only reply, softly, quietly spoken as if each word was ripped from a soul long tortured.

"I loved you, you know. I couldn't even admit it to myself. But she knew, when she came back for you and found you gone- she knew. Dru came back and the choice was taken from me. She said she was giving you a present, what you wanted. I'm sorry, God I'm sorry I couldn't stop her!" Buffy collapsed on the floor, sobs overwhelming her.

"I can't live like this. I walked out there this morning to end it all. Where did you come from, why did you stop me?" she looked questioningly into his eyes.

His heart breaking, Spike leaned down and wrapped her in his arms, pressing her closely to him. God it felt so good, so right.

"Love, I'm sorry about Dru. I came back because I was given a gift-a gift I fought hard for. One I wanted to share with you.” He lifted his right hand and gently caressed her hair, stroking her to calmness.

“I have a soul. I'm human again." Spike shuddered as he felt her sobs intensify. God! What was he to do now?

Buffy kept on crying, pressing herself closer still, holding him tighter, her cheek rubbing against his in comfort. Nestling closer until her lips lay gently against his neck, she felt him softly stroking her hair in comfort.

"Buffy, we'll work this out. Do you hear me? I know I human now, but I love you, have always loved you! We'll work this out somehow, we can still be together- Buffy?"

Spike stilled, a memory trying to resurface. Something wasn't right here. Should Buffy be crying like this?

As Spike felt the two sharp stinging pricks on the side of his neck, a sinking feeling bloomed in the pit of his stomach. As he felt the hot wet liquid slide down his neck to soak into his shirt, he quietly screamed inside for the loss of his Vampire hearing. Because with it, he might have heard the softly spoken, "I know" before it was too late.