He found her leaning against a headstone next to his crypt.

"Slayer."

"Spike," she whispered, still staring up into the clear night sky.

Sitting next to her on his own headstone, he lit a cigarette and pondered the mysteries of the slayer.

Pain radiated out from her—almost palpable in its strength. Even now, hours later, he could nearly taste it. Any other time, it would have filled him with glee, but now—now was different.

Ever since that blasted spell, everything he had known had changed.

Oh, Spike tried to act as if all was the same; that he was still a demon and death and destruction was still his motto. But it wasn't and hadn't been since he tasted the sweet juices of his mortal enemy. That night—when he was so in love with everything that was Buffy Summers—was etched into his dead heart for an eternity.

She burned him.

And still did.

So, when she had entered the Watcher's home hours before—tired, sad and reeking of the soldier boy—his demon had screamed to reclaim her— to make sure she understood that unlike his poof of a sire, he never freed what was his.

Obviously, the demon didn't understand 'do thy will' spells.

Even now, hours later, he could discern the boy's seed in her scent. Underneath the sludge of the sewers and decrepit scent of the two demons she had fought and the half dozen vampires she had already slain that evening, the mortal was still there.

And yet, here she was—sitting next to his home—waiting for him. The first time since their frenzied coupling nearly two months before, she had sought him out.

He couldn't help but wonder why.

"You know, Spike—you really should set up house somewhere safer," she said quietly, still staring into the night. "They're always around—especially in the sewers and graveyards."

Tossing his cigarette, he pushed himself off the rock and faced her. "Worried about me, pet? I'm touched."

She just shrugged.

"Slayer—"

"You know, out of the four men I've slept with, you're the only one who hasn't betrayed me."

Spike found himself chuckling. "That's because you didn't trust me to begin with, Slayer."

She finally turned her head and looked straight at him. Her eyes intense as they met his—almost as if she were trying to see inside his heart or mind—looking for answers that he knew he didn't have.

"Maybe," she said after nearly a minute of silence. "You know, no one knows about what happened with us that night. I kept telling myself that it had to do with the spell. That somehow I was still feeling it—even though it had been broken. That when you touched me, it was the spell that made my skin come alive—not that it was you and I together. On our own."

"Slayer—"

She snorted, sliding off the headstone. She walked over to him and lifted her hand to touch him. He nearly flinched as her hot fingers traced his scarred eyebrow. "Why don't you stay at my mother's? You can't hurt her—she actually likes you. You'll have a warm bed, a microwave and refrigerator and cable TV—so you can catch up on Passions," she said, chuckling softly. "And you'll be safer."

Bloody humans, he thought to himself. Why did this happen to me? It was so much easier when I could just eat them and walk away—not have to care about them.

"I'll think about it," he finally answered as he backed away from her touch.

A flash of hurt crossed her face as she dropped her hand. Before he could question his actions, he grabbed her elbow and yanked her towards him. His arms held her tight against him as he stared down into her eyes. His demon screamed for him to do something and finally he just gave in and smashed his mouth against hers.

She instantly opened her mouth as a small moan escaped her lips. As their tongues battled, he desperately tried to imprint himself on her—to wipe the taste of Riley out of her mouth and mind. She was his and it was just a matter of time until she realized it.

Breathless, she broke the kiss and looked up at him—her eyes filled with tears.

"Thank you," she said as she pulled out of his grasp.

"For what?"

She leaned over and picked up her slaying bag and slipped it over her shoulder. "For not betraying me," she whispered as she turned around and walked away.