This is part 1/2 of the Buffy version.

SUMMARY: What's going on in that noggin of Buffy's as she finds

herself drawn to Spike? And how will it all end?

-------------------------

We trade blows, knocking each other all over the house. My thoughts

start to blur as I focus on the fight, and I realize it's been a long

time since I've been in a fight as demanding as this one is.

I pursue him into the room I've just knocked him into, and--did he

just call me a little lost girl? I'll show him a--

And then I'm picking myself up off the ground, and I realize he's

used the chandelier to kick me in the face.

"She doesn't fit in anywhere. She's got no one to love."

From the floor, I can see him striding over to me. Oh, no, Spike.

It's not gonna be that easy.

I get to my feet and get set. I'm through with the punches; I just

grab him by the arms and throw him across the room. He breaks right

through a banister and lands on an old staircase, which makes the

most satisfying crunching sounds as Spike struggles to regain his

footing.

And I hope he doesn't think he's the only one who can get away with

name-calling.

"Me? I'm lost? Look at you, you idiot! Poor Spikey. Can't be a human,

can't be a vampire. Where the hell do you fit in?"

I advance on him as I taunt him, although every fighting instinct I

have tells me to wait for him to come to me. I should let him give

himself away so I can block him, but I don't really see the point.

He's out of breath and looking a little ragged, and I don't even have

a scratch on me. Let him take his best shot.

Turns out his best shot isn't so great, and it occurs to me that his

heart doesn't seem to be in this anymore. I duck his next punch

easily, and get in that stomach blow I tried to land earlier. He

doubles over, and I grab his arms and throw him again, this time

demolishing the fireplace on the far wall of the room we're in.

I can't resist trying to hurt him the way he went out of his way to

hurt me tonight. He thinks there's something wrong with me? Pot.

Kettle. Black.

"Your job is to kill the Slayer. But all you can do is follow me

around making moon eyes."

I wait for him to deny it, to find some way to turn it all back on

me, like he always does.

"I'm in love with you," he says, barely holding himself up to look at

me as he says it. He actually doesn't sound any happier about it than

I am.

Well, if neither of us wants to be here, why are we doing this? He

doesn't want to love me, and I don't want to be loved. Spike, I'm

about to do you the biggest favor. I'm about to give you a way out.

"You're in love with pain. Admit it. You like me," I pause, letting

him get up so I can say the rest to his face, "because you enjoy

getting beat down. So really, who's screwed up?"

"Hello? Vampire," he responds, as if I've forgotten. As if I could

ever forget.

He throws another punch, but I block it, a little too easily. I

counter-punch, but he manages to grab my arms.

"I'm supposed to be treading on the dark side," he shakes me, and his

fingers dig into my arms so hard I'm sure it'll leave bruises. I feel

him throw me across the room, and I land against the wall on the far

side of the room.

Plaster rains down on me as he grabs me by my clothes, and then I'm

flying across the room again. I roll to a stop on my back, and open

my eyes to see him standing over me. He grabs me roughly by the

lapels of my jacket and holds me up, off the ground. I can feel his

hands shaking.

"What's your excuse?" he asks me in a voice I don't think I've ever

heard from him. It's raw and dark, and he's so insistent, demanding,

that my anger flares again.

I reach up and push against his face with my palm. I just want to

force him to let go of me, but I'm a little shocked at my own

strength when I see how far he flies across the room. For the first

time since the fight began, I can feel how out of control I am.

Spike gets up, and I've lost all my finesse. I could incapacitate him

in any number of ways, end this fight nice and clean.

But I find myself launching my body across the room, hitting him

square in the chest and knocking him back. We roll away from each

other as we land, and we both get to our feet.

Spike makes the first move, closing the distance between us almost at

a run. He drives me back, into the staircase, pinning me there. I

feel a wave of panic as he starts to choke me, and then he laughs.

He laughs.

I punch him to wipe the smirk off his face, which works, but I get a

punch back for my trouble.

He pulls me away from the staircase, looks me in the eyes, and

everything starts to change.

I want him.

Not because of the fight. Well, sorta because of the fight. I'll

admit that to myself even if I can't admit it to him. But I've wanted

him ever since the first kiss. It never went away, no matter how much

I wanted it to.

"I wasn't planning on hurting you," he says, and I can see just a

hint of sincerity under the sarcasm. "Much," he adds, which should

disgust me, but it doesn't.

"You haven't even come close to hurting me," I reply, just to be

contrary.

"Afraid to give me the chance?" he asks, and I'm not sure whether he

can tell how right he is, or not. I've got to get away from him,

before he can see. Spike can see right through me, and if he sees

this, I'll never get a moment's peace from him again.

I pull away from him and throw him to the adjoining wall, more to

break the lock he's got on my eyes than anything else. Now, let's see

how he likes it when the tables are turned.

I shove his back against the wall, and his eyes find mine again. He

starts to say something, but I can't hear him anymore. All I can hear

is the voice in my head, a voice from the past telling me to take

what I want, to stop denying myself.

There's no turning back this time. I'm not running away. I have to

know what this is like, what he's like, why he won't get out of my

head.

I just want this one night. Just this one night, and then I'll be

done.

I stop him mid-sentence with a kiss. He shows no surprise, as if he

knew where this was going all along.

I can't get close enough to him. Our bodies are pressed against each

other, but I'm still clutching at him, hooking my arms around his

neck and squeezing him to me.

We're still throwing each other around the room, but we don't stop

kissing. We struggle with each other--remnants of the fight, maybe. I

lose track of who's pushing who up against the wall.

Doubt flits in and out of my mind, but every time he touches me, he

chases it away.

Why should I not do this? I want to do this. He wants to do this. The

chip still works on everyone but me, so who else is going to be

affected? No one ever needs to know.

Couldn't I have this one thing, just this one thing that's mine, and

that's exactly the way I want it? I'm so sick of everything being

decided for me, everything being about 'destiny' and 'duty'.

His arm is strong around my waist, and I feel him lift me off the

floor.

I push away the last glimmer of uncertainty as I hook my legs around

his hips. He's using both of his hands to hold me up, but I can sense

that he'd still wait for me to commit first, to be the one who goes

past the point of no return.

Our lips don't even separate as I reach in between us to remove the

last things holding us apart. My fingers find the buckle of his belt,

the zipper on the front of his jeans, and they just seem to fall open

under my touch.

The slit down the side of my skirt is a godsend all of a sudden, and

I fling its billowing fabric aside. Then I use all the leverage I can

to move us closer.

I can feel him, right before he enters me, and the last part of me

that believes I can still take it all back dies.

I pull my face away from his, because I need to see him. I can't

believe what he's giving me, how nakedly the emotions play over the

sharp angles of his face. I can see all of what this means to him,

what a gift he feels I've just given him. It's too much, and it's

also not enough.

Just for a second, I'm not sure I can do this. I'm not sure I can

handle him, his intensity, his honesty. It's violent and sweet all at

the same time, and I can't take it.

But my body takes over, and I feel myself moving against him. I try

to keep watching him, but his mouth takes mine again. His tongue

moves in and out of my mouth, matching the rhythm we've already set,

and I start to feel dizzy.

My legs feel weak, and my hands clutch at his back to keep me upright.

Spike senses that I've lost control, and he turns us so my back is

against the wall. It feels solid behind me, and I relax against him.

He takes over the pace, driving into me with such force that I have

to reach my hand back and brace myself to keep my head from banging

into the wall.

I can feel how close I am, and I know I've never been this close this

fast before. I break my mouth from his just long enough to cry out,

and my voice sounds strange as it echoes back to me. Like sobs, cut

off as he interrupts them with his kisses.

And then, oh God, I can feel it. I can feel my muscles clenching, my

whole body tensing. My head falls back as it overtakes me, and I can

feel his face against my chest, holding me close to him, protecting

me as I surrender completely to what he's given me.

I feel the oddest falling sensation as I start to regain my senses,

and I suddenly realize we are falling; Spike must have lost his

balance.

We fall for what feels like forever, but then we land, together, my

body covering his. We're both gasping as I bring my face to his,

close enough to kiss, but we don't. We just...look, and I've never

felt more exposed to anyone in my life.

I can feel him, inside me, and I start to move over him. I feel my

strength coming back, and I can see his is leaving him. I want to see

him at his most defenseless, as he's just seen me. I know I won't

understand this--him--until I do.

He reaches for my head and pulls me into another kiss, which he

combines with a half-hearted attempt to roll me onto my back. Oh, no.

Not this time. I'm in charge.

I brace my hands on his shoulders and push him into the floor, hard

enough that anyone else's bones would crumble under the pressure. He

looks at me in surprise, as if he thought he would forever hold the

upper hand where I was concerned.

No, for once, Spike, it really is all about you.

I slide my hands down his chest, sitting up as I go. I shrug out of

my jacket, tossing it behind us. It feels like I'll never need it

again, like I'll never leave this time and place.

My shirt follows it, and then my bra. His hands dance up and down my

arms, as if he's afraid to touch the skin I've just bared to him. I

take his hand in mine and guide it to my breast. I have to know how

he'll touch me.

It's nothing like I would have imagined; he's gentle and possessive.

His fingers brush over my nipple and air rushes into my lungs. I arch

my back, pushing against his hand, and he makes a noise I can't

describe. It's not a growl and it's not a moan, but some weird

combination of the two.

When did I let him take control of this situation?

I start moving again, faster, taking him deep inside me, then letting

him go almost completely before I start again. I can tell from the

look on his face that I've taken him by surprise. He almost

looks...shocked.

His head tilts back, and he's saying my name, over and over until he

doesn't have the breath for it anymore. He starts to push his hips up

to meet me, and then I feel it. He's pulsing inside me as I look down

at him and I feel powerful, fulfilled.

His hands grip my arms and it hurts. Something about the combination

of pain and the feeling of him moving inside me pushes me through an

invisible barrier, and I'm lost again. Lost and soaring high above

the world, far from the suffocating burdens I've carried for so long.

I fall to his chest, gasping for breath and clutching the fabric of

his shirt in my fists. I feel him stroking my hair while the other

hand holds my shoulder in that way I've grown too used to.

And that's how I fall asleep. For awhile, anyway.

-------------------------

The second I move to get up, his arms hook possessively around my

back.

"Spike, I should go. Dawn's at home, and she'll--"

"You've got half the population of Sunnydale living in that house

with you. She's safe, I know it. I can feel it. Just...stay."

"Have you slept at all, or have you just been lying in wait for me to

wake up and want to leave?"

"I don't sleep during the night, love. I've been watching you. You're

sexy when you're asleep, you know."

I can feel the heat on my face as I struggle to resist him. This was

just supposed to be a one time thing, and now I'm supposed to go.

"Spike, I can't--"

"Yes, you can. That's what this is all about, love. You can do

whatever you want, with me."

He let me go, as if to illustrate how free I am as far as he's

concerned.

He slips out of his jacket and the blue button-down shirt as he looks

at me, and I realize how odd it is that he's still almost fully

clothed. I feel like I've learned him inside and out, but the clothes

make him seem oddly hidden from me.

I reach out to yank at his shirt where it's still half tucked in, and

he raises his arms so I can pull it off him. I settle next to him,

pulling at his jeans, sliding them over his hips and legs, sighing in

frustration when I have to tug off each of those ridiculous boots of

his before I can get him out of his ever-present uniform of black.

"That's a little more fair, don't you think?"

He gives me an evil look and hooks one finger under my underwear.

"Doesn't seem fair to me, pet."

Wasn't I supposed to be leaving? I wonder if I should be looking

around for my clothes instead of taking more of them off, but that

thought doesn't even seem relevant now that he's looking at me.

I start to push at the fabric, but he grabs my arm and stops me.

He nudges me onto my back and moves over me, his knee settling in

between my legs. He slides slowly down my body, kissing my

collarbone, my breast, and then my stomach before his teeth close

over the fabric around my hips.

I feel him pull downward, growling as he passes by places where I

imagine he'd rather linger.

When he's done, I feel him kiss my ankle, which is strangely sexy. He

kisses his way further up my leg, pausing when he reaches my knee. He

takes my calf in his hands and pushes it gently toward the ceiling,

and I wonder what he could possibly be up to.

His mouth closes over the hollow on the back of my knee, and then he

pulls away, blowing a stream of air over my skin. I shiver with the

exoticness of it; no one has ever been so attentive to every inch of

my body.

I get a picture of what we must look like in my mind's eye, and it's

everything I've ever promised myself I wouldn't be. I try to pull my

leg away from him, and the thought of leaving comes back into my mind.

"Shhhh, love. It's okay. Relax," he whispers against my skin. His

hand runs lightly over the inside of my thigh, and just when I'm sure

his hand is about to settle between my legs, he pulls away. I can

feel myself trembling, shaking against him as he continues to nip and

kiss at the back of my knee.

My head falls back and my eyes close, and it feels like the only

places still alive on my body are where he's touching me. But he's

lingering in the same place, and my impatience is growing. I need him

everywhere, to breathe the life back into me, to awaken me in a way

Willow's spell just hadn't.

I pull at his shoulders, clumsily grabbing at him, and he lifts his

head, giving me a long, searching look.

"Tell me what you want," he says, his hand still teasing my thigh.

"Spike, I--I just need--"

"All you have to do is say it. Say it, and I'll do it."

I can't. I can't even think, and he wants clear instructions out of

me?

I gulp in some air and try to pull a sentence out of the images

flashing through my mind. Basic words arrange themselves into a

group, and then I just have to find the courage to say them out loud.

"I want," I begin, and I'm afraid to finish. I'm afraid to say it,

I'm afraid to mean it, and I'm afraid he'll laugh at how stupid I

sound.

"It's okay," he tells me, and takes my hand into his.

"I want you inside me again," I say quickly, before I can change my

mind. I feel him lift my hand to his mouth, and he kisses it, like

he's congratulating me.

"How, love?"

Of all the most irritating, infuriating--

"Now," I said, and then added, "Right now."

I pull him toward me and my leg hooks over his shoulder. I feel the

muscles in my hip strain as we test the boundaries of my flexibility.

His face is level with mine again, and I'm not even sure how he's

holding himself over me.

I watch his eyes as he enters me. He moves slowly, kissing me when

he's filled me completely.

"Do you want to know what you feel like?"

He whispers the words against my lips, and then dips his tongue into

my mouth before I can answer.

"Yes," I reply, as soon as he lets me.

"You're warm," he begins, whispering into my ear, and sucks on my

earlobe when he pauses. "You're so warm, I think I might catch fire.

But I wouldn't care." He kisses my neck, and then I hear his voice

rumbling against my throat. "I can feel you surrounding me, holding

me inside you. It kills me to pull away, even though I know I can

come right back."

He illustrates his point by pulling almost all the way out, and then

slowly flexes his hips to fill me again.

"Tell me what I feel like," he says, and I feel my heart start to

race.

No, I can't possibly do that.

I can't--

"You're strong," I hear myself say, "and so hard, and so deep." His

eyes roll shut, and I continue. "I want to feel you moving inside me,

hard and fast until you make me scream."

Okay, maybe I'm not very good at this, but it seems to be good enough

for Spike.

Because suddenly, he's moving over me, moving with such force that I

have to brace myself against the ground with both hands to keep us in

place. The muscles in the leg I've hooked over his shoulder are

screaming with pain.

There's something about this angle, about the way the circular

motions of his hips push him into me, and I'm close again. I'm so

close, and I start to whimper in anticipation.

"Look at me," I tell him, and his eyes, wild and feral, bore their

way into mine. "Change," I order him, and I watch as the confusion

plays over his face before he understands.

I hear the beast within him growl as his face contorts and his fangs

descend. There's something about seeing both sides of him, seeing all

of him while he's inside me, and it sends me over the edge.

I scream so loud, it sounds like someone's trying to kill me. It

feels like he's trying to kill me, because I'm not sure I can take

much more of this and still come out of it the same person I was

before.

I idly wonder if he'll take advantage of my unguarded neck and bite

me.

He doesn't, but part of me wishes he would. Not to drain me

completely, just to taste me. I want part of me inside him, the way

he's inside of me.

"Bite me," I whisper into his ear.

He doesn't respond right away, but catches my mouth in a kiss just as

I feel his climax coming to an end.

I slip my leg off his shoulder, and we both roll to our sides. He's

lying behind me and we're pressed together. His arms surround me, and

his left leg moves over mine, possessively.

"Why didn't you--"

"I wasn't sure you knew what you were saying, love."

"I didn't mean for you to turn me."

"I know. I just wanted you to be sure."

"Is it...weird, that I asked you?" I'm not sure of anything anymore.

For all I know, I've breached some kind of vampire etiquette.

"Not at all, pet. I just didn't want to get myself staked." He

nibbles on my throat with his dull, human teeth.

"I'm tired," I said, and punctuated it with a yawn.

"Go to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up. I'll just tell you

all the things I'd like to do to you as you drift off."

"Spike! You--"

"I still haven't tasted you, pet, and I'm not talking about your

blood. I'll do things you've never even thought of. There are so many

positions we can try, and some of them will let me get so deep inside

you...I'll make you scream until you can't talk, until you can't

think of anything but what I can do for you."

I can feel him, against my back, how ready he is to do all the things

he's telling me about.

"Maybe I'm not as tired as I thought," I say, and I turn enough to

look at him out of the corner of my eye.

He tilts his head and looks at me, and then he rolls me onto my

stomach. It catches me off guard, and I'm not able to block him

before he's pinned me.

"How're you gonna get yourself out of this one, Slayer?"

His hands firmly hold my hips as he pulls us out of the wrestling

hold he's put me in, and I'm on my hands and knees with Spike behind

me.

I should protest, this seems so...bad.

But now that he's inside me again, it doesn't feel wrong at all. His

hand slips around to pinch one of my nipples, and then it slides down

my stomach until he finds what he's looking for. His fingers move in

slow circles, lighting me on fire and carrying me away again.

Just when I can't take it for one minute longer, I feel his fangs

scratch across my back, hard enough that the skin breaks. His tongue

laps at the blood filling the cut, and the whole world explodes.

Again.

-------------------------

I want to kill him.

Of course, maybe I should thank him. My one night of Spike insanity

is truly over now, all the depravity, the things I still can't

believe we did.

That line about how the only thing better than killing a Slayer is f--

I can't get out of here fast enough. If he thinks he can just pull me

back into the gutter with him, he's severely mistaken.

This was one night. Now the sun is up, I've stopped with the crazy,

and I'm done with this.

I don't even look back at him before I climb out of the wreckage of

the house we knocked down.

-------------------------

"Back so soon, Slayer?" he asks me as I throw open the door to his

crypt.

"I came to thank you."

"The Bit has already seen to that. She thanked me after they took

care of her arm at the hospital."

"She was glad to have you there. Things have gotten so complicated

for her, and you've been her only constant."

"I've barely seen her since you got back."

"But she still knows you care about her."

"I'll always care about her."

"Well, that was all I came for."

"You sure about that, pet? Sure you didn't come here for another

taste?"

"Why do you have to ruin everything?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing, pet."

"I'm leaving," I announce, and it occurs to me that I should probably

at least start to walk toward the door.

"You'll love me someday, you know," he calls after me, but I keep

walking.

-------------------------

I spin the stake in my hand as I walk through the graveyard, and I'm

looking for a fight.

Any fight.

I just need to get my hands on something and kick it senseless.

I look longingly toward Spike's crypt, and I know if I walked in and

told him I needed a fight, he'd oblige. I know he said he was done

letting me kick him around, but I'm pretty sure that's not strictly

true.

What I'm really afraid of is that I won't feel like fighting at all

once I'm around him, and that we'll find another way to drown my

sorrows.

Well, no.

A movement behind a gravestone about twenty feet away catches my eye,

and I wonder if the green, scaly demon I see there thinks I haven't

noticed him. I decide to keep walking and let him jump me, which

should make the fight a little more interesting.

I can hear the demon stomping behind me as it goes from one hiding

place to another, trying to sneak up on me.

Why won't he just get on with it?

Finally, I feel him grasp my shoulders and try to roll me to the

ground, and it's begun.

I let him throw me to the ground, but I use the momentum he's given

me to roll in a different direction. I pop to my feet behind him, and

I punch him in the small of the back. The force of the punch makes

him fall to his knees, and I start to circle around him.

Before I can get there, Spike appears from behind a tree and jumps

onto the demon. Spike's in game face, and I could swear he yelled

something about 'getting my back' while he was airborne.

Spike wrestles with the demon until he's got the demon's arms pinned

behind his back, and then he turns toward me.

"I've got him, Buffy. Take care of him!"

I don't move, I just stare at this spectacle of overactive

testosterone syndrome, shrug my shoulders, and roll my eyes.

"Are you all right? Did he get you?" Spike's voice is full of

concern, and he snaps the demon's neck, ridding the world of him in

one smooth gesture.

"Buffy, you're not answering me. First you let him sneak up on you,

and then you let him keep the upper hand once he's jumped you. Are

you injured?"

"I'm not injured and I'm not impaired. I'm perfectly--"

And then I burst into tears.

-------------------------

"What's wrong, love? Can't you tell me?"

His arms are around me, and the front of his shirt is soaked where

I've been crying into it.

This is the last way I wanted things to end up.

"Come with me," he says, brushing my hair away from my face.

"That's not going to fix anything," I choke out between sobs.

"It's not like that. You shouldn't have to do this out here. Let's go

back to the crypt and you can tell me all about it."

"If you try anything--"

"If I try anything, you have my permission to stake me."

With his arm around my shoulders, he leads me back to his crypt. I

choose not to protest when he leads me down the ladder and into the

bedroom he's made for himself.

He walks me to the edge of the bed, and the gentle pressure of his

palm against my back encourages me to lie down.

I curl into a ball on top of the covers, and I don't even flinch when

Spike arranges himself around me, pulling me into the circle of his

arms.

"Shhhhh," he whispers into my hair. "It'll be all right."

Something about his gentleness sends me back into the kind of sobs

that take over my whole body. I can't take in enough breath, and I

start to cough. It only makes me cry harder.

Spike stays next to me, his chest hard against my face.

"Is it Red, pet? Is it the witch?"

"No," I manage to say in between coughs. "It's nothing like that."

"You don't have to--"

"I can't make it," I say, and it sets me off again.

Spike kisses me on the top of my head, and he waits a beat before he

answers me.

"I know things seem hard, Buffy, but you have to keep trying. You

shouldn't come out here, waiting to lose a fight so you can go back

to--"

"That's not it. I would have won that fight. I just wanted to use it

to get out some of this, this, whatever it is."

"What happened, love?"

"I told you. I can't make it. I followed the instructions in the

book, and it didn't work. I failed."

"Are you messing about with magic?"

"No," I whine at him, annoyed that he doesn't just know what the

problem is. "I tried to make it, the way Mom always did around

Christmas. And the fudge, it just didn't work. It was a mess, a

great, big, gloppy mess."

"Forgive my confusion, but all this is over a sodding pan of

chocolate?"

"No, it's about me being a failure. I'll never be Mom, I'll never be

able to do what she did. I miss her so much, Spike. I miss her so--"

I'm crying again, clinging to him, and his arms squeeze me so tightly

I have trouble breathing.

But it feels good. It feels right.

-------------------------

When I open my eyes, I realize I've woken up next to Spike for the

second time this month.

He's actually dozing this time, taking in slow, unnecessary breaths

and still holding me in his arms.

"Spike," I whisper, shaking him lightly, but he doesn't stir.

I guess that's why they call it 'the sleep of the dead'.

"Spike," I said, pulling out of his arms and shaking him harder this

time.

"In awhile, love. I'm too tired right now. Just give me a couple of

hours."

"I want you to be conscious when I leave, so I can say goodbye."

Spike sits up, completely awake.

"Goodbye? What do you mean by--"

"I don't mean goodbye. I just need to go," I tell him, and hesitate

before I finish my thought. "But I will never forget this."

I lean over and kiss him on the forehead, and his eyes shut while my

lips touch his skin.

He doesn't fight me when I pull away from him and stand up, and I

can't bring myself to look back before I ascend the ladder to start

my way home.

<hr>

What did they do to me?

The last thing I remember, Spike and I were confronting Warren and

his geek pals.

Now, I'm on the floor, choking on my own blood.

"Stay still, Buffy. I'm going to get you out of here," I hear Spike

say, and I figure his plan is better than anything I'm coming up with

at the moment.

I feel him wrap something around my left arm, some kind of bandage,

and he ties it tightly. I whimper in protest, and he squeezes my

shoulder--so like when he used to kiss me--to comfort me.

"I'm sorry, love. I have to stop the bleeding before...before we go."

"Where are they? Did they get away?"

"This is my bloody fault," I hear him say to himself. "I'm no use to

you in a fight against humans."

A memory of Spike, screaming with pain from the chip as he lunged at

Jonathan, comes flooding back to me.

"Are you okay? Did they get away?" I try to sit up, but his hands

hold me down.

"I'm fine. And they did get away, for now."

I throw my head back in frustration, an action which rewards me with

a shooting pain down my neck when my head hits the ground.

"What's wrong with me?"

Spike hesitates, and I wonder how bad the injuries must be for Spike

to try to keep it from me.

"You've--you've lost a lot of blood. And your arm is broken. I think

you bit down on your tongue when it happened." He brushes the back of

his hand against my cheek, and I can tell he's sugar-coating it.

"Tell me all of it."

"Blasted stubborn wom--" His voice breaks off, and I can hear how

close to crying he is. "That...whatever it was...they used on you, it

tore your arm to ribbons. I think your arm's broken in a couple of

places, and I can see the bone, down here, near your elbow." He

cleared his throat before he continued, "But the rest of you seems

all right. I think you ducked away from the worst of it."

"Why did they run?"

"I think they were afraid of what I'd do to them, love."

"Spike, I--"

"Whatever it is, we can talk about it later. I'm getting you to the

hospital."

"How?"

I watch as he slides one arm under my knees and the other around my

back, then lifts me from the floor.

"The hard way."

I'm starting to feel sleepy, but something tells me that being

unconscious is exactly what I don't need.

"Spike, I don't feel--"

"Don't worry about anything. I'll have you there before you know it,

and they'll patch you right up. You just wait and see."

Suddenly we're moving much faster, and it occurs to me that he must

have started running. My good arm finds its way around his neck, and

it's not just for stability. I push my face into his chest, wincing

after getting my first good look at my injured arm.

"I'm sorry, Spike."

Spike's face is a study in confusion as he lets himself look at me

for a second.

"What are you--"

"For everything. I had no right to drag you into...all that stuff,

last month." It sounds lame, the way I've said it, but I hope he'll

understand what I mean.

"Don't think about that now. Just keep talking to me. Keep me

company."

"I was so scared, Spike. Scared I was doing it all wrong, that we're

nothing but violence and pain to each other. But when I saw you,

ready to die for me...again..."

"Buffy, don't. I don't think you--"

I smile a little against his chest as the familiar thought comes to

mind.

I'll tell him just this once. Just this once, and then I'll be done.

And for the first time, I understand how much I don't mean that.

"I love you, Spike."

------------------

end (of Buffy version)