Spike fidgeted a little, kicking the sand with his boots. He knew that there was no place he could go. The sun had left burns on his hands, before he stopped. It wouldn't set for hours, and she just sat there, and talked about heaven of all things.

"Wherever I was. I was happy," she said tonelessly.

Spike didn't understand what she had experienced, couldn't understand that she still yearned for the contentment and completion she spoke of. Which was for the best, anyway. He threw away the cigarette and killed it with the heel of his boot, watching as she rose to her feet.

She appeared so vulnerable, in a way he hadn't seen before. Sad to the bone, sort of, as though she'd never be happy again. It was not the Slayer Spike knew.

Spike gripped his knees tightly. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to make her smile, wanted to see her strong the way he was used to. Why did she talk to him about this? But somewhere deep inside, where his unbeating heart was, he was happy too; happier than he'd been in so long, so many months, ever since Buffy jumped off the edge, into the rift, and was...gone. Spike admitted to himself that he was glad she was back, God help him. Yeah, like that'd ever happen.

Her last words as she walked away hung in the air. "They can never know."

And Spike knew that he would keep this secret to himself, no matter what the cost.

* * *

It was like he couldn't leave her alone. He just dropped by as though he was part of the family, and in some ways, Buffy assumed that he was. He'd protected Dawn, and for that he had her gratitude.

"Do you really think they won't see it, Slayer?" he said, his voice sounding neutral, and she hated the way he saw right through her. When did Spike become so perceptive? While she'd been dead?

"I'm not going to let them, and can we please not talk about this, Spike?"

"Fine. Suit yourself," he said and sat in the sofa, the duster folding around his wiry body like it was part of him.

Dawn was asleep. It was dark out, and she should really go to bed, too, but she found herself sitting next to him.

"You can't just sit here," he said. "They'll notice something's not right, eventually."

"Fine. They notice I'm not the happiest person on God's green Earth. They'll just have to cut me some slack. I was dead, remember?"

And no one except Spike knew what she'd been through. Why had she trusted him, of all people? Had she lost her mind while she was gone, too?

"I remember," he said and for some reason, the tone of his voice made her shiver.

* * *

And he did remember every single second she had been gone. Her being dead had left a hole inside him; a void that couldn't be compared to anything he'd felt before.

No wonder Angel was such a brooding stick in the mud if this was the way she made men feel. Spike rose and started pacing. He'd be damned before he'd become what Angel was. He wouldn't pine after some blonde bimbo who couldn't care less about him. But he knew he was only lying to himself. He'd cared about her for a long time. Long before he'd admitted it to himself, long before the...chip. He stopped pacing and watched her closely. What was it about her, anyway?

As though uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Buffy hid her head in her hands, and said shakily:

"I feel lost, Spike. I don't know what to believe anymore. I've seen things none of the others have. Not even Anya. Nightmares keep haunting me, about...what it was like before I died."

"What was it like before you died?" Spike asked and sat beside her again. He was so close he could smell her newly washed hair and the scent that was all Buffy. It was something sweet, something he yearned to taste ... He inhaled her scent, and closed his eyes for a moment.

"It was hell, Spike, and if I hadn't died..."

"Yeah."

He understood what she meant. If she hadn't died, she'd been grateful to Willow no matter what the cost. Willow would still have to pay, but he wasn't sure she knew that, or that even Buffy knew, for that matter. There would be consequences. Black magic was dangerous, and there was always a price.

"But I did die, Spike. My soul was torn to pieces by demons, worse than anything we've seen here on Earth. You can't imagine... "

She shuddered and without thinking, he put an arm around her, trying to comfort. To his surprise, she didn't withdraw; but then, she barely seemed to realize he was there.

"You know, Slayer," he interrupted. "I think I can. I have been on this Earth for a long time, and I have seen many things."

"Yes," she said and lifted her eyes to meet his. "I guess that's it. That's why I feel this connection with you. You actually know what it was like."

"Yeah," he said softly and turned away, pulling his arm from her shoulder reluctantly, looking at everything but her.

"What could have been so bad, it spooked a vamp, Spike?" she said.

"I don't want to talk about it." Still somewhere there was that voice that said: She trusted you. Why wouldn't you trust her? Come to think of it... What had he ever done to make her trust him?

Buffy's eyes narrowed.

"That's a really good question."

Spike bit his lip, and lowered his gaze. He hadn't been aware he'd said it aloud.

"Well," he said nonchalantly. "I'm just wondering."

"Whatever your plan is, you can forget it!" Buffy said.

"Give a guy a break, will you?"

She frowned.

"Look, I'm just asking what made you... You go from hating my guts and wanting to kill me to coming back from the dead and revealing a secret to me that could..."

"At best, it could hurt my friends a great deal," she interrupted. "At worst it could split us all up. It would probably kill Willow to find out where I really was when she pulled me back. Yes, what was I thinking? It wouldn't be the first time you'd pulled a stunt like that."

"Hey," he said and put his hand on her narrow shoulder. This time, she noticed, and watching him defiantly, she shook it off.

A tremor went through him. There was finally a spark of life in those green eyes.

"Hey," he repeated. "I won't tell them, Slayer, I promise." He looked back into her eyes. "I think ... I've taken care of Dawn all this time. I've not killed anyone for more than a year - well, except for a bunch of demons - and I think I've earned some of your trust. "

"If it weren't for that chip..."

"But now it's there, and it's not likely to ever come out," he hissed.

He didn't like thinking about it. How that chip had...made him impotent. He couldn't do anything, he couldn't get that thrill he needed so badly anymore. He didn't belong anywhere, except with Buffy's band of freaks.

"And if it does? Why should I trust you, you always want something in return!"

Spike could see her working herself into a rage, into a panic. And somehow, he knew that it wasn't him she was really angry with. He felt that hum of trust, that connection she'd spoken of. It was still there between them, but perhaps he should play along? He was the only one who knew how desperately she needed some kind of outlet.

He allowed rage to creep through him. He reminded himself of why he used to get so angry with her and why she could still bring out the demon. He allowed his game-face to form.

"Got you pissed off, now, didn't I?" she said condescendingly. "I should have known."

"There's only one price to pay for my silence," Spike said, a thrill coursing through his body. This was fun. She might not think so, but by god, he loved feeling the demon inside him awakening.

* * *

She knew it. There was always something with Spike.

 "What would that be?"

"A kiss," Spike said. "Just one kiss."

She laughed a short, high laugh. It sounded nervous even to her ears.

"You've got to be kidding me, Spike!"

"Is that too steep a price to pay for my silence?" he said. "Do you find me that revolting?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

The game face disappeared as suddenly as it had formed, and for some reason she knew that she had hurt him. That wasn't really what she wanted. She didn't know what she wanted from him, and the wounded look on his face got to her.

"It's not that I find you gross, Spike, but ... I don't think I'll ever feel that way about you."

"You'll never know," he said. "if you won't try. I'm asking for a kiss, not that you fuck me blind." He rose again, the duster billowing around him at the sudden movement. He shot her a shaky grin over his shoulder. "Not that I'd mind that either, pet. I love you. You know that. It's pathetic, but true."

She rose too, coming up behind him, very closely. She couldn't believe she was about to do this, but it was a small price to pay for his silence, and some part of her wanted to kiss him. Just to see what it was like.

Truth be told, Spike had helped them a lot. She couldn't find it in her to kill him and that was probably the only alternative. She knew what she would condemn his soul to if she did. She'd been there, before she ... continued elsewhere.

She made him turn around, and suddenly she knew why she was doing this. Riley was gone. Angel ... well, Angel would never be hers again, and Spike loved her. As long as that chip was in his head, he would never turn his back on her, and she needed to feel something good, something that wasn't hard, sharp and too bright, something that didn't hurt or break her heart. It was ironic that Spike, who had once been her worst enemy, would be the one to provide some kind of comfort in her confusion and pain. She'd told herself over and over to never get involved with a vampire again, and here she was, wondering if she had not been protesting too much.

She walked around him, watching his features closely. He was quiet now, with that apprehensive look on his pale face that he sometimes got when he wasn't sure what she might do. His eyes widened even more as she pressed her lips against his. At first, he didn't even move, and she slid the tip of her tongue across his lips. He let out a strangled moan. The sound crashed into her, and made her quiver. It was so unexpected.

Of course, his lips were cool and dry like Angel's had been, and sadness washed through her, but then the sensation changed. She could tell that it wasn't Angel in her arms and she was pleased when she realized she didn't really care. Spike was different. His lips were fuller, and the taste of him was another. He wasn't very tall, and he was wiry. Angel had been muscular and towering over her.

She slid her tongue across Spike's lips again, coaxing him, challenging him to respond, and his arms came around her. He was finally kissing her back.

She moaned in pleasure. It surprised her, that she would want him so much. Even though she consciously had decided to seek comfort with him, the intense need that crashed over her was a shock.

His body, pressing close to her made her tingle all over; the hard muscles molding against hers, the hardness of him pressing into her and his wiry arms crushing her to him made her so excited. She sucked his lips, encouraging him, and sneaked her arms around his shoulders. Diving her fingers into the blonde spikes of his hair, she realized it was softer than she had expected. The strands glided through her fingers like silk. Grabbing on tighter, she invited his kiss, participating with an enthusiasm she hadn't known she had. The pleasure washed over her, increasing the desire with each breath. She hadn't known she felt anything like this for him. She hadn't known. His hardening flesh dug into her hip and she lifted her leg, twining it around him, trying to get closer to that hardness, wanting him.

"No," he groaned, and tried to pull back. "Not this way."

A cold chill traveled up her spine and she tightened her grip around his shoulders. She wouldn't let him go.

"Yes, this way," she growled. "This is exactly what I want, Spike. Don't you dare leave me now! I'll never forgive you if you do."

He remained tense for a moment or two, but his cool lips claimed hers as he gave in to the desire she could see in his eyes. Relief flooded her when she realized he wasn't about to reject her. She had actually doubted it for a moment.

"Hell of a time for you to go noble on me, Spike," she complained as she pulled away.

"Hey, I'm hurt!" he said. "I've never forced myself on a woman in my life - or un-life! They beg for it, I'll have you know!"

"I bet they do," she said.

He frowned at her, as though he wasn't sure she was teasing or not. But she ignored him, grabbing onto his hand.

"Let's go upstairs, Spike."

He followed her silently, and she couldn't believe she was going to do this. If anyone had told her even six months ago that she would want Spike, she wouldn't have believed them, and if they'd said she wouldn't just want him but actually intended to act on it, she'd have knocked them out. Maybe that violent reaction should have told her something, she thought wryly.

She shut the door behind them and dragged him over to her bed. Now that he was in her bedroom, he seemed reluctant. Almost as though he were uncomfortable.

"What's the matter, Spike?" she whispered. "Can't put your money where your mouth is?"

"Oh, I can fuck you all right," he said crudely. "I'm just not sure this is the time and the place."

"Spike," she said warningly. "I want you. I've wanted you for a long time."

"Yeah? Well, I don't believe you, ducks," he said, and sank down on the bed beside her. "No matter how much I'd like to. I'm not stupid."

"I know you're not stupid. That's why I'm surprised you haven't seen through my act long ago."

She pushed him backwards on the bed, and he lay down, unresisting. The black duster draped around him, causing a pool of black in the darkness. She watched him, let her eyes roam his body. His face was a mosaic in shadow and light from the moon. The high cheekbones made him look almost gaunt, but he was certainly attractive. That wasn't exactly news to her, but the response her body gave as she looked at those angular features, the slender build of his body and the long legs; that surprised her. Her body responded by sending waves of warmth through her, tingling at the lower end of her spine, filling her with desire she could barely control. How could she have gone so long, not realizing how much she wanted him?

"Well, your punching me in the face anytime I tried anything fooled me into believing you meant it," he said wryly. "You'll forgive a bloke for taking a hint."

She winced. He was right. She had been pretty convincing. She had even convinced herself after all.

"Right," she admitted. "You've got a point."

"Yeah, no kidding," he said, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"I changed my mind."

"As women have been known to do. Why would the Slayer be any different?" he muttered and rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, Spike!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

She slid off the bed, and went down on her knees, pulling off his boots. They fell to the floor with a distinct thud where she dropped them. He wore a pair of black socks underneath, and she caressed the perfect, pale skin that was revealed to her when she pulled them off. Even his feet were beautiful, long and graceful, with a perfect valve. She bent forward and kissed the sole of his left foot.

He hissed.

"What are you doing, Slayer?" he said, pulling to get his foot out of her grip. "Got a foot fetish I should know about?"

"I'm tasting you," she said and wouldn't let go. He finally relaxed and she took her time, nibbling and licking him. He seemed restless, but leaned back on his elbows and allowed her to continue.

"Well, as long as you promise not to stake me for this after," he said, his tone only half-joking.

"I promise," she said, and continued kissing him, moving upwards, pushing the jeans up to be able to touch his ankle.

His skin was cool to the touch, but not exactly cold. She enjoyed his coolness. Rising to her feet she leaned over him, grazing her nails along the insides of his legs. He shuddered and a moan escaped his lips. He fell back on the bed as she continued stroking his inner thighs, reveling at his reaction. He hardened further, and she saw his erection press against the denim of the black jeans. She wanted to touch him there, but didn't, frowning instead.

"You're so passive, Spike," she said. "I never imagined you for a passive lover."

"I never thought you'd imagined me at all," he said, a spark in his eyes.

"Well I did. Now tell me, you're not like this all the time, are you?"

"You kind of took me by surprise," he admitted.

"Well, now that the first shock has worn off, perhaps you'd like to show me what a century as a vampire has taught you about women," she challenged.

"Oh, so that's what you want? A clever lover to fulfill your every whim, eh?"

She didn't reply.

"Well, I think I can do that," he said and grabbed her arms, pulling her down on him.

She yelped, and reveled in the feel of his body against hers. He was hard muscle everywhere, and strong, stronger than anyone she'd been in bed with - except for Angel. She knew that she would have to fight if she wanted Spike to release her and he had decided not to let her go. It thrilled her. How could she ever have thought she'd settle for anything less?

Spike rolled them both over, so he was on top, and Buffy shivered as he kissed her again, his tongue diving into her mouth, tasting her eagerly enough to let her feel his need and his aggression. He pulled back and she moaned in protest.

"Hush, love," he said. "Let me do this. I know how to make you feel good."

He rose over her, and pulled off his duster. Underneath, he was wearing a black sleeveless shirt that hugged his body, and showed off those sculpted arms perfectly. She reached out to touch him and he paused.

"Don't take it off just yet," she whispered, looking into his eyes.

There was a hint of amusement there, but also desire and something else. Pride? Defiance? Perhaps he was enjoying her worship? Well, she could give him that. She'd hurt him pretty badly over the years. She could let him see her awed at his beauty, at how incredibly attractive and sexy he was to her at this moment.

Willingly, she allowed her eyes to reveal all those things when she looked at him and reveled at the sight of the hard muscles in his arms, the high cheekbones and the hunger she felt when her gaze fell to his crotch. Her hands traveled over his torso and she scraped her nails across his protruding nipples. He moaned, and his head fell back, baring his throat and he shifted, fought the demon, and it subsided. She was almost disappointed. His game face didn't frighten her - it thrilled her. He had trouble staying upright, and she smiled as the duster slipped from his hands and onto the floor.

"What you do to me, Slayer," he whispered raggedly, and a surge of power shot through her. He wanted her so much; he was trembling.

Suddenly the need to feel his naked skin against hers was overpowering and she started pulling at his shirt, dragging it out of his jeans. He helped her and soon the garment fell to the floor.

"You're beautiful, Spike," she whispered. "So sexy."

"Lie back on the bed, Slayer," he whispered.

"But I want to touch you."

"Lie back," he repeated.

She fell on the bed, watching him intently as he stood on all fours over her. So close, but not close enough. Bending his head, he brushed his lips against the crook of her neck, licking her there, and then he sucked. Not hard, but he was sucking.

A shudder moved through her. He wasn't going to...was he?

"Relax, Slayer. I won't feed off of you. Unless you ask me..."

Allowing her head to fall to the side, giving him more access, she wasn't sure if she was giving him permission or not, but he didn't bite. He just sucked at the sensitive skin there, laving her with his saliva before going further down.

"Oh god," she moaned. "Spike."

"Shh."

Taking his time, he slowly moved down her torso, across her collarbone, nibbling lightly on the skin there. Arching her back, she tried to get closer to that teasing mouth, but he pulled away and continued dusting feather light kisses across her skin.

As he finally reached his goal, his lips closed around her nipple, sucking gently. It was as if he knew she didn't like it too rough. Not there. His tongue swiped over the sensitive skin, causing her nipple to harden and her breast to swell under him. He kept at it until she couldn't lie still, the pleasure coursing through her.

"Spike," she begged. It seemed her entire vocabulary had diminished to that single word.

He seemed to know what she wanted, because his hand covered her other breast, kneading it gently, making her moan with the pleasure that traveled from her tits, to between her thighs. She pulled her legs up, spreading them in an invitation and he moved in between them, without stopping his pleasuring of her. She shuddered as his hand left her breast, caressing across her stomach in slow circles, and dipping into her navel. The touch caused her to wriggle under him. She wanted him to touch her there. Now.

She tried wrapping her legs around him, but he shook them off and quit touching her, letting her know in no uncertain terms that he wouldn't be rushed. He didn't touch her until she laid her legs down with an annoyed groan. As she relaxed, he continued those lazy circles with his fingertips, gliding across her pubic bone, tangling in the curls, brushing lightly across the sensitized nerve endings at the top of her sex, but never close enough, never touching her where she was burning for him.

"Spike...oh god...Spike. Please." she pleaded.

He kept kissing her, licking her and then his hand finally cupped her, almost reverently.

"You want me there, love?" he whispered and lifted his head. His gaze seemed to penetrate her and she shuddered.

"You want me to touch you there?"

"Oh, Spike, yes."

And he finally did. He slipped one finger across her slit, brushing it lightly, causing her to moan and buck against him again, rocking her hips, wanting him closer, deeper-more! She was so wet, and so wanting. He spread her juices around, and the sensation of his fingers gliding across her clit made her sob.

"Damn you, Spike!" she cursed.

"I'm already damned, Slayer," he whispered and finally thrust his finger inside her.

"Oh!"

He finger-fucked her for a while, building the pleasure until she thrashed on the bed beneath him.

"So good...Spike...so good...so good!"

She couldn't stop her rambling. His touch was delicious, but not enough. He gave her more each time he pushed his fingers inside her, but never enough, never enough, making her climb toward orgasm so slowly, and she seemed to be on the brink at the same time. What was he doing to her? Where did he learn to play her like this?"

"More," she begged.

"More," he said. "You want more. You want another finger?"

"Yes!"

That wasn't what she wanted. She wanted him inside her, but she wasn't coherent enough to tell him. Was she? What could she say to get him to do what she wanted? And then the words came to her.

"Spike," she groaned. "Fuck me."

She felt him tense and she opened her eyes. His face was mere inches from hers, and he looked completely pole axed.

"Not yet," he said coarsely. "Not yet."

It was as though he hadn't expected that from her. Even though he was there with her, his finger buried deep inside her, moving enough to give her incredible pleasure, but not enough to bring her off. And still, he didn't think she wanted him.

"Damn it, Spike." she groaned. "I'm going to have to have a little talk with you when we're finished."

"Yeah, I suppose you might have to at that," he admitted. "But not now."

And she shuddered as he drove another finger inside her, moving downward, upping the ante, so to speak.

She nearly screamed when she felt his lips at the very top of her sex, less than an inch from her clit. He brushed his lips against her, kissing her, and then she felt the wetness of his tongue, circling that sensitive area, as he continued finger-fucking her. And it was so good, so good, she forgot what they had been talking about, forgot anything but the wonderful sensation of his tongue, licking her most sensitive spot, bringing her closer, and closer, making her tremble violently.

She dug her fingers into the sheets, bucking against him, but he followed her every move, licking her relentlessly, finger-fucking her until she couldn't take it anymore. She shouted her pleasure as the climax crashed over her, shrinking her world into that perfect pleasure, and she finally remembered why it was so good to be alive, so good, so good...

As she came back to herself she realized that she had Spike to thank for it.

"Better now, love?" he asked.

"Yeah, much better. Come here," she said and grabbed his shoulder.

"I think I need to leave..."

"Oh no, you don't." she said. "Look at you. All hard and wanting. Do you really think I'm going to let you go like this?"

"I can take care of that myself, Slayer. It's not like I haven't done that before."

"Well, you won't have to. Not tonight."

Not for a long time will you have to do it for yourself, Buffy thought. Not if I have anything to say about it.

She reached out and cupped him through his jeans. Helplessly, he arched into her touch and she saw him close his eyes in agonized pleasure.

"I bet that's uncomfortable," she said. "Those jeans are pretty tight."

"No kidding," he moaned. "But you don't have to do this."

"I want to, Spike. How many times do I have to say it?"

"I don't know," he groaned. "Until I believe it?"

"Fine."

She moved to straddle him and he lay there, with his eyes half-closed, his mouth swollen from her kisses. Leaning forward, she licked his lips, tasting her own juices there, and she deepened the kiss, as she opened the zipper of his pants and pulled them down his hips. His hard cock sprang free and she pulled away a little, watching it. He was long enough, and thick enough, but not overly large.

"Like what you see, Slayer?" he whispered raggedly, a strange vulnerability in his voice.

"Oh yeah. I like it much," she said and before he knew what she was doing she lifted herself and sank down on him.

He groaned in surprise as she clamped her inner muscles around him.

"Oh, yeah. I like what I feel too, Spike," she moaned and lifted almost far enough for him to slip out before sinking down on him again. She upped the tempo and he was helping her now, his hands around her waist, lifting her easily for each stroke, pushing into her with a wicked tilt of his hips each time he reached as far as he could go inside her. The rhythm of their joining increased and she let out a low moan as he hit that perfect spot deep inside her.

"Spike, you feel so good inside me."

"God, Slayer," he groaned. "I won't last. This'll never last."

Throwing his head back in pleasure, he shifted into his game face for real as his climax hit him, hard. He pulsed inside her. She came, too, fighting through her climax to keep watching him like that, the visage of his demon half exciting her more than she'd care to admit even to herself.

"You're wrong, Spike," she whispered into his ear as she leaned forward, relaxing on top of him. "This'll last forever."

He didn't reply. William the Bloody had passed out.