DISCLAIMER:All of the characters appearing in this story belong to the WB. Song lyrics by Melissa Etheridge. Poem by Spencer.
RATING:NC-17. Some Buffy/Spike action
BACKGROUND: Season 4 story. 'Everyone Needs Therapy' follow up. Lots of decisions made here, not heavy on the fighting. They reach that stage in their relationship were they need to choose some stuff.Thoughts are cited with * * (This is my first song fic.)

"Bye Willow! I'm going out for patrol," Buffy called twisting her hair onto the top of her head.

"Got it. Who's on with you tonight?" Willow asked referring to the infamous Giles schedule.

"Spike," Buffy said very casually. "Anther night of head aches, arguing, and bickering." *And lots of kissing. Lots of touching and probably some crazy-naked sex. The usual. Whoa, gotta stop. Getting horny.*

"Buffy, Spike is actually been helping, lately," Willow mentioned.

"You could say that," Buffy admitted. "Though he was less trouble when he was the undead English patient." *Chained in the bathtub. Spike . . .chains. . . I so have to stop.*

"Hey, I made that one up!" Willow thought for a second. "It's okay because it is a cool one, so you can use it. Don't tell Xander. He wants to call Spike Deadboy number 2 still."

Buffy worked her way toward the door, "I really need to leave."

Willow stopped her, "I've been meaning to ask you something."

Turning back around, Buffy knew she hadn't escaped. A look at Willow's Resolve Face told her whatever Willow wanted to talk about had been thought on deeply. "Sure. What's up?"

"I'm worried about you," Willow began reluctantly. "Well, it's been three weeks since Eve died, and you were always at Spike's the month before that. Is there a reason you haven't dated anyone for almost two months now?" Willow raised her hand and started to sound like a parent, "Now I'm not accusing anything. No, this is not that kind of talk, but you and Riley had a thing for a while, and now it's like you don't care." Her voice got quieter as she tried to gauge Buffy's reaction, "I mean, you aren't going to parties or anything lately. You just kinda, well, patrol?"

If Willow hadn't been so right, Buffy may have been annoyed. Ever since she and Spike had gone all the way, every other guy was nothing to her. Her interest in drunk college guys at parties fell further now that she had her own man, regardless of the fact that he was undead. "I know I've been weirding you out. It's that, you know, first we lost Eve, and then Angel showed."

"Yeah, then the Vengeance demon beat up Spike, who started seeing the future, and last week the police came to interview us." Willow brightened as she reconsidered her argument, "Never mind then. Maybe its not weird." It looked like she was going to continue, but she checked the time, "Oh, no. I'm making you late. Go."

"Bye," Buffy rushed out the door.

On her way to the cemetery she mulled over the conversation with Willow. Willow had to know something was up, but she wasn't sure or ready enough to ask point blank. Besides, what could Buffy say? *Spike and I are screwing each other every night after patrol? I sneak to his house between classes when we don't have a patrol scheduled? He comes to our room when you go to parties? All the usual Buffy and the undead relationship stuff.*

If it could be counted as a relationship. She and Spike had sex, often, constantly, and continuously. *Wow, lots of long words there.* The rest of the time they basically argued and traded insults. She was the Slayer, and he was her personal vampire prophet. They liked each other fine, but love was not on the menu. Buffy wanted to eat steak, and he wanted to eat the waiter. She had no idea why they stayed together, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he was equally clueless. It was becoming more and more clear, in spite of what she'd told Angel, they did not have a realistic chance to make it right now. Let alone what would happen when or if they went public. Her friends would definitely flip, and she didn't even want to imagine what Sunnydale's undead community would do.

Arriving at the cemetery, she sat down morosely. It had to be all the sex, but . . .

She sighed and sat down on a gravestone and admitted it. Sometimes and more often than she should have, she found herself wishing it were something more, even though she knew it could never be more. He was Spike and always would be, and yet she was drawn to him in a way that defied explanation. It could have been his stubbornness, his loyalty (oddly enough); it could have been the way he felt everything as fiercely as she did. Who knew what it was, but she knew there were moments though when she was in his arms and never wanted to leave. She would have been happy to fall asleep in his bed and forget about everything else. Except she always had to leave, go back to her empty bed for fear of discovery. At least on patrol, they could be together without worrying about someone watching them.

Unbeknownst to her, someone was watching. Sharp eyes focused on her, but ran off at the approach of a blonde vampire.

Spike entered the graveyard to see his favorite slayer sitting on a headstone looking lost. The expression on her face was so forlorn. Whatever was going on in her head had to be gloomy, his new Seer senses told him.

The empathic powers he had inherited from Eve had certainly changed his outlook on things. Everywhere he went, he was aware of this constant chatter of thoughts floating in the air. At the start he'd wondered if he was going crazy, but he'd figured out how to block most of it out. It was not really gone, at least not for long. His control was coming. He had found he could concentrate and reach through the kaleidoscope of emotions and pick up the emotions of just one specific person. Sometimes when people felt really strongly about something, they could penetrate his shields. Touching also strengthened the power of the penetration, overwhelming him at times with their emotions.

Being with Buffy was like that. He could barely brush her skin, and he would know exactly what she was going through. It added a new dimension to their sex life. There was no comparison to feeling everything they did through his mind and hers.

Right now though, he stood silently examining his gorgeous girlfriend. Everyone, demon or not, was in complete agreement with that. It was an unalienable truth; the slayer was so beautiful.

And she was his. She was the reason he never left Sunnyhell. She was his enemy, her light perfectly matched to his darkness, the Tool to the Voice. He knew beneath that delicious body was a spirit that had proved indomitable in the face of every evil. The Slayer was a challenge, and he didn't want it any other way. *Stop,* he told himself angrily. *Wandering into nancy boy territory, again.*

He may have been the Slayer's current vampire boyfriend, but he was still Spike. In no way was he a slave to her the way his sire had been. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a deep kiss.

She kissed him back and tumbled them onto the ground. They rolled a few times while still kissing. Their hands roamed under clothes, her hands tracing his flat stomach and his playing with her nipples through her bra.

Finally coming up for the much needed air, Buffy said, "Hi."

"Hi," he replied smoothing her messed up hair with one hand.

She responded by flicking way some grass from his. "Okay, time to slay." She flung a stake past his ear, neatly dusting a newbie rising from a grave. Buffy climbed off him and retrieved her stake. "Any more?"

Spike tilted his head and carefully cracked his shield, which he could feel was a little worse for the wear now that he'd kissed her. Concentrating he 'listened' for hunger and savagery in the cemetery. He stood and pointed deeper into the dark, "That way. I'd guess ten or twelve."

"That many?" Buffy seemed a little surprised, "Nice to know. Every slayer should have her own vampire blood hound."

"Keep talking like that and this hound dog is gonna quit."

"Sure you will," She commented as she produced another stake from somewhere. "Back to the slaying part."

They headed further into the graveyard and ran into 15 new vampires. Had either of them been alone or with a different Scooby gang member, they would have never considered taking on a group this big. However, with the two of them working in tandem, it was not an issue.

"I thought you said ten or twelve," She said backhanding one and staking another.

"So I was off by three. What did you expect? You're always saying they're all the same. They sound the same to me." He ducked under the swing of one to ram his stake into its heart.

They continued their banter as they whittled down the number of opponents before them. She moved with a fluid grace that was the birthright of a slayer. Each kick and punch flowed together in almost a dance. Spike was rougher, depending on the strength and agility of his demon to take out the fledges. Every second of the battle, he was acutely aware of her presence fighting beside him, allowing him to instinctively anticipate her motions.

He staked the last one in front of him and turned to see she had already dispatched hers. While he had been able to monitor her progress, he was still relieved to she was unhurt and sensed her relief that he was similarly unharmed.

A strange tingle ran up the back of his neck. He looked around quickly trying to discern its source. The tingle was fading so he opened his shields to see if it would help. Instead of discovering the source to the feeling, he felt Buffy.

She walked toward him, "Are you okay?" Buffy gently touched her face, and a sense of her bombarded his mind. She was all flushed, her heart beating rapidly, and the adrenaline coursing through here. Her concern for him was a cover for the burning desire singing under her skin, a desire that only grew with the contact. The fire of her need built up his own to the breaking point.

Without thinking, he seized her and began to inhale her delectable lips. She kicked his legs out from under him and went down with him, mouths still connected. He peeled of her pants and underwear as she freed him from his jeans. Hands gripping her hips hard, he rolled them until he was on top and proceeded to slam into her. Buffy, worked up from the fight, matched him thrust for thrust, her head thrown back in intense pleasure. His fingers found her clit and pinched it roughly until she was whimpering crazily against his aggressive mouth. He sensed her reach the brink and pushed into her as far as he could. She exploded, sanity shattering like glass in the face of the pleasure. Her climax was so powerful it overcame his control and he came too.

They lay there for awhile entwined on the ground in the middle of the cemetery. Neither minded their half undressed state in their haze of contentment. Few things pleased him as much as lying next to her, listening to the cadence of her heart. A momentary calm washed over them, their tension drained. Spike cradled her him as he caressed her hair gently. Buffy smiled into his chest stroking his shoulders.

She faced him, gazing directly into his blue eyes. Spike stared back entranced by the depths he could see in hers. Her fire, her determination, her vulnerability, it was all there drawing him under her spell. The power of her passion joined with his and threatened to swallow him whole.

Equally entranced by what she was feeling, Buffy gasped out, "Spike . . . I-"

"Yes, luv?" He placed a soft kiss on her mouth.

"I've been thinking. About us," she said dreamily. "You and me-" She suddenly averted her eyes. The mood was broken. "Never mind." She pulled away and found her pants, putting them back on.

"No," he said after fixing his own clothes. He caught her arm. "What did you want?"

Pulling out of his hold, she sat against a headstone. "Forget about it. Thinking out loud again. It was nothing."

He could tell she had retreated back inside herself. That suited him fine because he had already done the same. Recognizing her mood as confusion, he decided to pursue the issue. "It's got to be something. I'm the one whose supposed to be feeling the nothing here, Slayer."

For a minute she wouldn't meet his eyes, and he wondered if she planned on responding. Finally, still not looking at him, she said, "What are we?"

"What kind of question is that? A vampire and a slayer," he replied.

The answering flash of emotion surprised him as she stood up her eyes blazing. "I know that. I meant what are we? Are we a couple or not? Are you my boyfriend or is this a casual dating thing?"

"Oh, that question," he said uncomfortably. It was one he had personally been unable to answer. Sure, he'd told the police woman he loved Buffy more than he would ever know, but he knew it was a Seer thing. It didn't mean now or later or how he would love her, it just meant that he would never know if he loved her. Or it meant he would love her and not know it. Or he loved her now and would die before he expressed it. Or he loved her like a sister. He forced himself to stop thinking about it. At this point in time, no matter what the Powers That Be were doing to screw with his life, he had no idea how to reply.

Buffy continued, "Are we in this only for the sex? Is this gonna get old, and we'll end it? Are we ever gonna go on real dates? Is this a real relationship, the kind that gets romantic and lasts more than a month? Do we ever get to tell anyone about us?"

He brought her close to silence her his a kiss. All that was more than he wanted to think about. He needed to feel her touch and her mind instead.

She pushed him away violently, "See? Is that solving anything?"

Unable to understand why she was acting this way, Spike asked, "Did something bring this all on?" It wasn't that he never asked himself those questions; he did. It was easier for him to ignore the questions as she had been doing until now. Neither had voiced their doubts or fears to each other, following a silent agreement to say nothing. Only their mutual unspoken rule had been broken.

"No," She said shortly and reconsidered. "Yes. Maybe." She relented, "Willow believes I'm acting all weird. I'm not dating or seeing anyone now. She's probably thinking I've given up on guys and sex."

"She's definitely wrong on that one," he leered.

She gave his shoulder a hard thwack, "I know that too. But the point is, all I do is patrol."

"And sleep with me," Spike pointed out.

"But Willow doesn't know that. All she sees is that I am butchering my former social life. I haven't been to the Bronze or a party in what, two months?"

"And what is wrong with that?"

"The 'wrong with that' is she's getting suspicious. She knows something is up. Anytime she tries to ask me, I put her off. If I keep it up much longer, she'll ask Giles or Xander to watch me all the time with her. And eventually they'll figure it out."

"So the long and short of this problem is, how do you lie to Willow," he scoffed. "I'm having trouble seeing a problem here."

"I don't want to lie," Buffy said.

"What's wrong with lying? It works.'

"Can we pretend that you have a conscience for a second?" Buffy rolled her eyes.

"So we tell her the truth? How is that a solution?"

"No, we don't tell her the truth."

He let out a sigh, "Well, you've got me now Slayer. If we can't tell her the truth, and we can't lie to her, is there anything else?"

"Yeah, we vague it up. Let her know I'm dating, but not, well, you."

"I see where this is going. You're all ashamed that I'm a vampire. Is there something wrong with telling your little friends about me?" He was getting all riled up.

"Other than your favorite pastimes being killing, murdering, and killing again. What's not to like?" she shot back. "And don't even start me on your friends. I don't see you rushing off to share the news."

"You have no idea what its like for me to be dating you. Your mates won't kill me and eat you. Mine will. And once they're done with us, they'll go after your friends too."

She stuck out her chin stubbornly, "As far as my friends are concerned, the last vampire I slept with went all evil psycho on us."

"I should have known you would bring 'Him' into this!" Spike raged, demon surfacing, "So now you compare me to him? Can I bring Dru and Harmony up too?" At this point they were standing toe to toe and were getting angrier by the second.

"Go ahead," she yelled. Grabbing his shoulder in frustration, her skin briefly brushed his.

The touch forced her emotions into his head. She was confused and upset, but not because she didn't care. All she wanted was for everything to be right between them.

He stepped back, controlling his demon again, "Wait. Can we start over?"

"Do I want to?" She looked at him defiantly and then relaxed. "Okay." She took a deep breathe, "Spike, I want to tell Willow about us, but not us specifically. Tell her I am dating."

"Fine. I don't care what you tell her," He stopped, thinking, "Scratch that. Tell Red you're seeing someone, but we're not ready to meet each other's friends."

"Can I say you know about my Slaying?"

"I'd have to know if I see you after you patrol." He stopped, "And tell her I am sure we are going to make it and am ready to move into the flowers and chocolate phase of the relationship."

"Really?" She asked, hope evident on her voice.

"Really," he confirmed, feeling a rush of contentment fill him with his last statement. He shook it off quickly and continued, "Is that enough? Whatever else you need to say you can make up on your own."

"If you're sure," She smiled and gave him a little kiss. "I'm sorry I brought up Angel."

"You should be," He drew her in for a much longer kiss. "But I forgive you."

"Good thing too cause if you didn't, I'd have to stake you." She snuck a look at her watch. "Shoot. I'm so late. I've got to get back to the room."

Kissing her again, he watched his girlfriend hustle back in the direction of the dorm. Once she was gone, he realized that none of the real questions had been answered.

The next morning, a Friday, Buffy sat idly looking at the ceiling in her Psych class, reexamining her meeting with Spike. Today, she decided, was the day to tell Willow. Not necessarily the gory details, but something. How would be the best way to do it? Maybe she could put it off till tomorrow.

She was interrupted by a knock at the class door and the entrance of a deliveryman. He carried a beautiful bouquet of a dozen red roses down the stairs to the front of the room by Professor Walsh. "Excuse me, Sunnydale Floral," The man identified himself. "I have instructions to deliver these to one of your students."

Professor Walsh frowned because she was annoyed to be halted in the middle of her lecture. She sighed heavily, "We were discussing interpersonal relationships. Who do you need?"

He consulted his clipboard, "Miss Buffy Summers."

All faces turned toward her with knowing smiles. Buffy, however, was wondering who could have sent the flowers. As she and Spike had said, they needed to keep the relationship on a low-key basis. Forcing herself to ignore the stares, She carefully wove through the students and walked to the front. "I'm Buffy Summers."

"Good, here you go." The man handed her the flowers and a sealed note. He fled the glare of the angry professor, leaving her to turn it on Buffy.

"I trust you are aware how much I dislike things like this stopping my class?"

"Yes, ma'am," Buffy inclined her head meekly, aware that Professor Walsh was an Initiative big shot, probably Riley's superior.

"In the interest of the lecture about dating, would you care to share the contents of your little message with the class."

Fingering the envelope, Buffy considered Professor Walsh's request. It was so high school to be talked to like she was caught passing notes. Then again, could it really hurt? Before the thought was even finished, she became uncomfortably aware of Riley watching her intently. It had to have been three weeks since she had strongly recommended he stay out of her life. He hadn't protested, but he made it clear that he still wanted her. *Not gonna happen.* Resolutely, Buffy shoved the note in her pocket, "Sorry." She used her most apologetic tone, "I have no idea who sent these. I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings." Without waiting for an answer, she beat out a hasty retreat from Riley and Professor Walsh.

Willow, who had been in the class too, pounced on her as soon as it was over. "Buffy Anne Summers. You. Flowers. Spill. Who is it?" She bounced up and down, "No, wait. What does it say?"

"Okay, okay," Buffy laughed and opened the note. She began to read out loud, "I know what you did last summer." She glanced up at Willow's horrified expression. "No, it doesn't say that. It really says: Dear Buffy, this was so you wouldn't forget to be vague today." That settled it. It had to be from Spike, even if this was strange for him.

"And?" Willow asked hopefully.

"And, there is a poem," Buffy admitted and read-

"Wow," Buffy said breathlessly. "Wow, romantic, but wow vague."

"Buffy," Willow rolled her eyes, "It's not vague at all. Don't you remember this from high school English?":

"Don't you remember in high school English the only time Buffy did real good was when she could read thoughts?"

"That's true, but this," Willow moved into teacher mode. "This poem is Spencer, and it has a really easy message."

"Avoid plants?" Buffy ventured.

"No pain, no gain."

*Too true,* Buffy contemplated. Spike must have been trying to boost her confidence for the talk with Willow. Since he'd never done anything like this before, he must have really taken their conversation to heart, or whatever counted for vampires. It was a very boyfriendly type action, to show affection to the entire public. She paused and forced a rueful smile; he had just forced her hand. She couldn't avoid telling Willow that she was seeing someone now.

Willow cleared her throat, "Uh-oh, Buffy's thinking hard. Come on, who sent this?"

"You know how you said I've been acting kinda funny?" Buffy started cautiously.

"Yeah," Willow replied thinking. "You've been secretive and guilty-faced lately. It's to see a boy!"

"Shh! The whole campus doesn't need to know!" Buffy shushed.

Lowering her voice, Willow said hurt, "I thought we were best friends. You have been seeing some guy on the sly, and you don't tell me about it?"

Buffy raised her hands in a peace gesture, "Look. I wanted to tell you, but-"

"But what? Who is he? Are you getting smoochies?"

"I can't tell you. Will, you've gotta understand," Buffy grabbed Willow's hand and plunked them on a bench. "I'm tired."

"So tried that you forgot to tell me?"

"No, I would really love to tell you. It's just that we're not ready. All my boyfriends have always gotten killed or maimed or went psycho. Dating the Slayer is hazardous to your health." She paused, "And if I brought him to meet my friends, would it help? Giles and Xander would hate him no matter who he was. Angel would love to get rid of him, and we aren't ready for that. He's not ready to be targeted as the Slayer's boyfriend yet."

"Does he know about you and the whole destiny thing?"

"Yeah, that's how we met. I was fighting a vamp," Buffy replied. It was true; Spike met her the first time when he tricked that huge vampire into fighting her before Parent Teacher Night.

"Really? He wasn't turned off by that? Maybe he's a keeper."

"Oh, definitely," Buffy said dreamily and then focused, "But I'm not sharing."

"Can you tell me anything? At least tell me you've seen him in the daylight."

"A couple of times," Buffy answered honestly, remembering Thanksgiving and when he had the Gem of Amara. Those times counted. "He has a job in the night shift though."

"Nothing wrong with that, most everything happens at night around here. But if you saw him during the day, it's okay," Willow exclaimed, "Not that I'm prying, but have you . . .you know?"

"Done it?" Buffy smiled, "Yeah."

"More than once?" Willow asked guardedly.

"Alot more than once. And having sex with me did not turn him into a homicidal maniac." *He was already there.* "No soul-losing either, which is a good."

"He's not secretly slaying vampires for a secret underground organization?"

"Nope, no secret vampire slayage." *He's been public for two months now.*

"Is he sensitive? Does he know how you're feeling?"

"He always seems to know. I'm the one who has trouble understanding him," Buffy admitted.

"Oh, Buffy. Sorry, cause usually the guy has trouble getting in touch with the girl's feelings."

"See, this is one of the reasons I didn't want to tell. I know when he's happy, but I don't know what's going on really deep down. I want to know, but I think if you guys hate each other, he'll close off totally." Buffy sighed.

"You're close to that stage," Willow commented. "It's that whole part where my pain is his pain. He hurts, you hurt." Willow stopped suddenly, "Are you in love?"

Buffy jerked her head back. Why did everyone keep asking her that? "No! I'm in the Like, alot. Boy plus Buffy plus love equals tragedy. So I'm not in love, deep in the like."

"So you like him, and you must be having great sex."

"Something like that," Buffy agreed.

"Do you want more than that?" Willow asked a question Buffy had been mulling over for some time now.

"I don't know. I mean, that would be love with a big L. Based on my track record, it's a death sentence. It would get him killed. And killing him would kill part of me."

Willow had no response for that.

Buffy shook herself, "Wow, hello pain. Time to change subjects. What are you doing tonight? Spike's patrolling with Giles so I'm free. Did you want to party or something?"

"Actually I have this Wiccan overnighter at Tara's. I'm working on some weird stuff so I need a mini coven."

"I guess 'Girls' Night Out' is out," Buffy said disappointedly when her heart was jumping for joy.

"Sorry. It'll last till Saturday night." Willow ducked her head, "Don't ask, it's a whole witch and moonbeams thing. Don't be mad, please. I figured it would be okay."

"No problem. You've been so good with all the weirdness in these past two months. First the Spike and Eve thing, and now this guy. You so deserve this weekend witch thing."

"You're okay with this?"

"Positive. I'm sure I can think of something to do," Buffy smiled at the roses.

"I'm due to tutor someone in math," Willow said. "See you Saturday night."

Willow left in a flurry of papers, and Buffy sat deep in thought. Spike had made an actual romantic gesture to her. While absolutely contrary to his nature, he sent her flowers with a poem. No one had done stuff like that before. Now she would have to return the favor in some equal way.

What to buy her vampire boyfriend? Clothes and candy were out. He had his favorite outfit, and candy didn't appeal to him. Spike liked sex, and lots of it, but it wasn't like she didn't get anything out of the bargain. He liked blood too, but he had a thirst for human, and she wasn't gonna beat someone up and give him that as a romantic gift.

Chewing on her lip, Buffy held one of the roses in her hand. A thorn pricked her finger; a little trickle of crimson blood welled up. Examining the rose, her finger, and the poem, an idea struck her.

Buffy grinned widely; it was too perfect. Now she had to call Spike. He was coming over tonight after he patrolled with Giles, and for once he wouldn't have to leave in the middle of the night to escape notice. They could stay together even after the sun rose. She left repeating the words of the poem, "Sweet is the rose, but it grows upon the briar."

Spike entered room 214 shortly after he finished his patrol. The room was dark, lit by one lamp in the corner. Searching for a few seconds, he didn't find his lovely girlfriend anywhere in the room. Then he caught sight of her sleeping peacefully in her bed.

Instead of being annoyed, Spike started to worry. He had been expecting a different atmosphere and greeting than the one he had received. When she called to tell him about the witch's two-day absence, he had been planning on an interesting evening, hopefully involving chains and leather. Had something happened to her? Could she be ill?

With a tenderness he could never show her when she was awake, he sat next to her on the bed and placed a careful hand on her forehead. Her skin was warm in his palm, and his worry got stronger. As he pushed several strands of blonde hair from her face, Spike examined her with a critical glare, trying to find a clue to why he had decided she was sick.

It was her color, he figured out. The usually tan complexion had an undertone of an odd paleness. Humans could come down with illnesses, he remembered, so it was a possibility that she was simply sick. This mental reassurance did nothing to alleviate the ball of concern that had taken residence in his undead stomach.

He began to wonder what he was supposed to do. Eve had never so he didn't have any experience in caring for the ill. Sleep, he'd heard, was good at that sort of thing. That's what he would do then; he decided not to wake her. His needs could wait until his Slayer had all her parts in working order.

Plus she looked so sweet, all soft and sleeping. While his demon protested, he couldn't deny the effect she had on him. If it had been anyone else, the slumbering girl would have been just another easy meal. But not her. Not his Slayer. Not caring how close he was coasting to the edge of an emotion suitable for the love-struck, Spike leaned forward, still stroking her hair, to kiss her forehead.

Her dazed blue hazel eyes drifted open and fixed him with a sated, sleepy gaze. In his dark blue eyes, she could suddenly see deeply inside him. She could practically feel him in her heart as she lay transfixed by the depth of emotion she was glimpsing. There was fear and worry in him, but beyond those there was a powerful backdrop of genuine caring devotion. It was so strong it stifled the demon hiding behind his eyes. Despite all he was and all she was not, now floating beneath the surface, Spike truly cared and worried for her.

That was all it took for her to know her own heart. Though it was the very antithesis of everything she had ever learned, ever been told, ever seen; she loved him with her whole being. Inhaling she whispered, "Spike?"

Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Spike pulled back and masked the emotions he'd been showing quickly. "Slayer. I- You told me to come." His tongue tripped almost comically, and she could have laughed if he hadn't been so sincere. "Never mind. You're sick," She watched his mood become rapidly more closed in. "I have to go."

"Oh," Buffy said, confused as to why he thought she was sick. Then she recalled the reason she had been trying to take a short nap. "Wait. I'm not sick. I'm only short a little blood."

Spike stood, anger filling his head. *Who dared touch my Slayer!?* "Who did it? I'll find them and then tear them to shreds!!!"

"No," Buffy said firmly, reaching under her blanket. "No one hurt me. Or at least, I hurt me." She indicated the roses on her desk with her head. "You sent me those roses so I needed to do a romantic special thing too." Grinning triumphantly she set a blood bag on the bedspread. "Ta-dah! Bagged Buffy. Personally heated to 98.6. I did it myself. Took me awhile, but I got a whole pint."

Taking the bag gingerly, he tested its weight. "I sent you a poem I didn't write myself and flowers," He took her wrist gently in his hand to see the angry red puncture mark from the needle she used, "And you draw your own blood for me?"

"That's it. I mean, how do you be romantic to a vampire? I thought leather and chains, but that's been done. Was this a good gift, cause you know I can't take it back."

"Trust me, pet. It's perfect," Spike replied delight dancing on his face.

"Could you drink it now? I had to sleep with that to keep it 98 degrees, the way you like it. I don't want to see all my hard work go to waste."

Not needing to be told twice, Spike put on his game face, pierced the bag with a fang and began to drink. The hot taste almost knocked him over. It was so strong and vital it shook him to the core, forcing a huge amount of energy into him. Even more it tasted like her every kiss, touch, and emotion concentrated into liquid form. She was erotically invading him from within by letting him feed on her blood.

When he saw her interested face, Spike became aware of how painfully aroused her blood was making him. The blood had also given his empathic powers an unexpected boost, and as a result a sense of all things Buffy flooded him. All at once she was everywhere around him, near him, in him. Spike tensed, fighting the need to jump on her and take her right there. He still had enough presence of mind to remember she was weakened from blood loss.

Seeing the indecision, Buffy made the first move, "I did one more romantic thing." She kicked back the covers to reveal her nude form.

That got a reaction. Tearing off his duster and shoes, Spike leapt onto the bed. He caught her in his arms and stared intently at her face, shifting back into human mode. Sparks of desire shooting between them, but holding back, both began to tremble. "I don't want to hurt you," He purred roughly into her ear.

"Don't worry," she planted a kiss on his jawline.

Her short statement was answered with a small kiss punctuated by his fingers capturing her bare nipples. She gasped at his touch and moaned when he rained kisses across her face and shoulders. Trying to be keep his restraint, he slipped a finger between her thighs. Arching up as he inserted on exploring finger within her, Buffy tried to catch his mouth for a kiss. Dodging her seeking hands, Spike fastened his lips to her left breast, his tongue sliding across the crest in a pattern both slow and arousing.

Inside her channel, he was caressing her silken walls with lazy, languorous circles that made her cry out and grind herself into his hand.

"Shh," he quieted her, teeth nipping her shoulder. "Only a little longer."

A little longer was much shorter because her inner muscles clamped around him and shot her into an orgasm. "Spike!" His name fell from her mouth while the waves of pleasure shook her.

Watching her shake around him, Spike allowed himself a smile. She was his in every way. It warmed him in a way he should have worried about, yet was beyond caring about now.

Buffy finally returned to her senses and tugged on his shirt, aware of his fingers still in her depths. He removed his hand from her and chucked off his dual shirts. Instantly feeling empty, Buffy decided she wasn't going to wait much longer.

She threw herself onto his cool body in a hungry kiss, coiling her legs around his waist. A rush of lust nearly blinded her when their lips met. Spike tore himself away and shoved her back down on the bed, intent on driving into her. He unzipped his jeans, stripping them off, in a flash, and she grinned in anticipation when his arms held her down possessively.

Instead of thrusting into her like she expected and like he was aching to do, Spike paused with great effort. He pinned her arms above her head with one hand. Staring into her bright eyes, he brushed the other hand down her body. The feather-light caress grazed her quivering flesh, paying particular attention to the distended tips of her breast and the indent of her bellybutton. The hand studiously avoided her thatch of curls, serving to frustrate her. She struggled briefly at the hand holding her down.

Every nerve in his body stiff, Spike continued to exercise the ragged remains of his self-control. If he took her now, close as he was, it would be over so quick. She'd bled for him and deserved much more than that. Her struggles were driving him insane, shaking her delicious body, so he took action.

He moved swiftly, letting her hands go, and grabbing her hips. Setting her on the headboard, he spread her legs and attacked her center with his tongue. With quick strokes he reduced her to pounding head against the wall. Slowing down as her wetness soaked his face, his tongue rubbed her clit with maddening slowness. Buffy began to beg, first in a soft voice, then louder, ultimately screaming, "Now. Please. Spike!" He complied, unexpectedly biting down on her clit. So unprepared for the touch of his fangs on her, Buffy snapped up against his mouth, climax overtaking her.

It was too much, he pulled her back down on the bed and entered her convulsing form. Slick and wet, he slid in with almost no friction. Through the throes of her orgasm, she focused on his face, seeing a desperate wildness in him. Here at the height of her pleasure, she could actually feel him inside and out. It would take very little to set him off.

Her muscles clenched involuntarily at his shaft, and that was all it took. He came shooting into her as he changed from human to demon. "Buffy!" He shouted hoarsely finding release at last in her willing body, losing himself in the wonder of her. He drew her tightly to him, inhaling her in a kiss. As she felt him filling her with his seed, for the first time she clearly felt his mind pierce hers. The pleasure he was feeling was so intense it literally forced her into another orgasm, following on the heels of her one less than a minute before. Catching her mind in the ecstasy he was experiencing, everything that was Buffy collided with everything that was Spike. Flying on the wings of his passion, Buffy offered her heart as they danced in a circle of rapture that seemed to have no end.

The rush eventually dissipated, and Spike held Buffy close, still immersed in her core. Buffy was practically crying for joy into his cool chest. She'd found it, love with him, her greatest foe. Curling up in his arms, she resisted the impulse to tell him she loved him. Ghostly phantoms of the same scene with Angel floated by her mind, Angelus talking about how naive she was to believe it was love when all it had been was sex. She tensed at the memory, and Spike reflexively tightened the embrace, holding her closer. Comforted by the knowledge that Spike was not leaving her, Buffy let herself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

When she woke up, she was still in his protective embrace. She listened to the slow, steady beat of his heart in her ear. A sheath of warmth enfolded her, buried in the soft planes of her lover's body while he breathed deeply in sleep.

Buffy blinked, noticing that something was wrong with her observations. Spike could not be warm or have a heart beat or breathe, the logical part of her mind said. The rest of her mind insisted the contrary, she was not imagining the breathing, the warmth, or the beating of his heart. It certainly felt real.

She tried to sit up, only to discover that she was somehow immobilized. Her body wouldn't respond to any of her commands. From somewhere inside her, she became aware of something stirring. It was hungry and began to thirst for the blood of her lover.

Concentrating, Buffy tore her thoughts away from the hunger and found she could move again. Buffy peered at Spike's face. He appeared relaxed, vulnerable almost, separate from the anger and pain that had marred his life. It served to caution her again that he was the Voice. He was oozing peace and contentment that urged her to crawl back into his arms.

Buffy reached forward to run her hand through his blonde locks. The feelings of peace and contentment redoubled, and Buffy was reminded of Eve. Eve had been an empath too, with the power to feel the emotions of those around her . . . and to make those around her feel her emotions as well.

This gave her pause, and Buffy understood what had happened. Spike was unconsciously projecting into her. Her thoughts from the night before flashed through her mind. During that last orgasm, she remembered his feelings mingling with hers.

He'd told her once that he had to set up barriers to keep others out of his head. Touch eroded them, and she blushed for the touch they had done could not have been more intimate. A thrill of joy rushed through her. She had gotten a taste of what he felt every day. Spike probably had no idea now that he had raised her to a height of bliss previously unimaginable. It was very likely that he did not even know she heard his emotions last night.

The happiness was squelched as she realized that she had woken up to what Spike was feeling about her at the time. He must not have known to put his shields back up, and the hungry thing she touched in him had to have been his unhappy demon.

The demon. Cradling her head in her hands, Buffy despaired at the revelation. Spike's demon was part of him; it had to be. It was subdued, yes, but she saw vividly saw herself offering her heart to him last night and not getting the same response. Perhaps Eve had given him a touch of humanity, and maybe it made him different that the other soul-less vampires. Yet did it matter in any way?

With a falling heart, Buffy knew the answer. For all Spike had become, in all the care and affection he had for her, it meant nothing. She may love him with true completeness; he might know her inside and out better than anyone else on earth, but he could never love her. Spike was a demon, and she was a slayer. The Voice and the Tool had no effect on that. The love she had was doomed before she could express it.

The pain cut through her like a bolt of lightning. The knowledge she would watch her gift of love wither and die almost shrank her soul.

Was it fair? Hadn't she sacrificed enough for the world? Didn't all of her losses count for something? Or perhaps she was being punished.

She gazed at her sleeping love. It wasn't his fault he was what he was. He had not had a choice in becoming a vampire or becoming the Voice. She, on the other hand, had had every warning in the book. How could she not have know? Slayers could not, should not love vampires. Angel had taught her that, but there she went, falling for someone even less suitable. Was she cursed to wish forever for things that would never be? Why did she feel like her love was making her loss her soul?

An unexpected wave of self-loathing hit her. Maybe she was losing her soul. It was her own fault. It had always been her choice, and she alone was responsible for bringing this blight on her soul.

Dressing quickly, Buffy rushed out the door. She needed to talk to someone, even if it was 5 a.m. She couldn't go to her friends with this one. Who could she tell?"

I was so sure one and one gave you one.
My noisy love is coming undone.
Now you leave like father,
Disappointed like mother,
And I know in my heart,
There is no other.

Spike woke at the sound of the door closing. He flung out an arm, instinctively searching, and was surprised to find Buffy gone. That was too strange. He was the one who had to flee her bed, as she had to flee his during the week when they feared discovery. Except that wasn't a problem since Willow would not be back until the night.

She had never done this before. He checked the time and pulled on his clothes. Where had she gone? Was she mad about last night? He had tried to be as gentle as he could and made sure it was for her until he couldn't stand it anymore. Could she even guess how hard it had been for him to last that long? Did he know how hard he had fought to keep from losing himself in her passion and strength? When he touched her, it was like he wasn't all himself; he held a part of her inside.

So where was she? He stood and his forehead suddenly clenched up. He knew what that signified, a vision was on its way.

Pain exploded behind his temples. Spike stumbled blindly toward the desk to find a paper and a pen. Unaware of his own motions, his hand sketched an image while his mind was buffeted by the power of the Gods.

The vision ended without giving him any concrete facts, only a warning of danger. He dropped the pen and didn't even bother to look at what he had drawn on the witch's book cover. The Powers That Be could go back to Hell for all he cared. He needed to find Buffy now.

Experimentally, he sniffed the air in the empty hall. Buffy's scent wafted in all directions like he had expected since she lived there. Inhaling again, he concentrated on his own scent and hers, mixing the two together in his mind. Buffy would smell like the both of them; he caught the trail he had been looking for. He was briefly tempted to reach out and find her by her emotions. If he did that though, he would be vulnerable to the entire campus. He could have to rely on his 'normal' senses. Spike ran down the hall and out the door, hunting for her.

"Father," The girl's voice said gravely. "I cannot remember my last confession, but I am afraid."

"It is okay my child. It will be okay," Father Paul soothed. "We all have fears. Why are you scared?"

"I have given myself to a man."

"Does he frighten you?"

"No, I frighten me. I am cursed."

"Nonsense child. God does not curse his children. That is reserved for the devil only."

"But Father, I am in love with the devil."

"The devil is not in a single person. He is a force, yes, but in many. Why do you think he is the devil?"

"Oh Father, he was evil."

"Was evil? How?"

"He is everything I am not. He hurt many, me and my friends. There is innocent blood on his hands. He feels no remorse for his deeds."

"Does he hurt you?"

"He can't hurt me anymore. I am the only one that can hurt me. He is good and sweet, but he is still the devil.

"Then how can you love the devil?"

"I don't know. I know I love him with my whole heart, Father," She began to cry. "I knew it was wrong. I fought it, but I cannot stop myself. I am damned!"

"Stop. God did not damn you," Father Paul stated firmly.

"Yes, he did," the girl insisted. "I have welcomed the darkness into my body and soul. What did I do to deserve this? Why am I losing everything that I am to love him?"

"God works in mysterious ways. He doesn't give a burden we cannot carry."

"I can't do it Father. Not again. I have blackened my soul by loving a monster," she was nearing hysterical levels now.

"There are no monsters," Father Paul tired to calm her. "There are simply people who made bad choices. They need only redemption."

Her fist slammed into the wire mesh separating them. The mesh bent several inches toward him from the force of her fist. "This is Sunnydale. There are monsters. They can't be redeemed or saved or shown the light. I fight them. I love one. He feels no sadness or mercy. There is not a single ounce of pity in him. The devil lives as part of him. He cannot be saved, and because I love him, I cannot be saved either."

He shook his head, "We both know that is not true. God loves us all, even the lowest and the least of us. There is no sin that cannot be forgiven.'

"Then can you forgive me Father, for loving a monster?"

"You do not need forgiveness. Our Father created us to love Him and each other, so love can never be a mistake."

"But why does love hurt so much?"

"Our Lord never said it would be easy. I believe a poet once said, ' For easy things that may be got at will, most sorts of men do set but little store. Why then should I account of little pain, that endless pleasure unto me gain.'"

Her sobs suddenly stopped, "No pain, no gain?"

"Precisely."

"Father, can you bless me if I don't have a sin to pay for here?"

"As you wish my child. I bless you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

"Thank you, Father." She left the confessional booth.

Spike watched Buffy carefully from a tree. She had been striding along, running almost, in a straight line. He froze when he was her enter a Catholic Church. It was one place he did not dare follow her. He may have become a kinder, nicer vampire lately, but he knew he was still susceptible to the holy items in there.

After thirty minutes, he saw Buffy exit the church and head for her room. He sprinted ahead of her, divested himself of his clothes, and resumed his previous place. She entered quietly as he pretended to sleep. He felt her crawl back into his arms and sensed a remarkable clarity of thought in her mind. Believing he was asleep, she placed a kiss on his neck and snuggled up to him, returning to sleep. Spike lay there for a long time, staring at her.

Outside, someone else had watched Buffy leave the church. . . .