Ravages of Spirit 1/1
By Denna at dennaseer@h <mailto:dennaseer@h>...
Rated NC-17 for sex, violence and language
Keywords: Buffy and Spike.what else could there be?
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon
and Mutant Enemy. I am not making a profit off of this. By the way, I love
feedback
Spoilers: Set after "The Gift"
Summary: Dawn has died instead of Buffy and the Slayer must find a way to
move on. Buffy POV.


Ravages of Spirit

Will I ever forgive you? I know you don't need my forgiveness, the same way
you never seemed to need my advice when you were alive.

I remember. I had told you my romantically tragic speech. I had told you to
live for me. I had nearly demanded it. The thing was, I wanted to go. In
some selfish way, I wanted to. And in fact, I needed to. The sky seemed to
scream for me and everything seemed so deadly quiet at the same time. And
then I went to jump off the pillar.

But that was when you grabbed my arm and with some kind of super human
strength born only out of desperation pushed me out of the way. You stopped
then and you turned around.

"No."

You had said it so simple and clean. There was no "I can't let you do it. I
love you." It was just that.

Then you jumped. And there I lay on that rickety platform nearly in shock
and feeling so weak I didn't think I would ever be able to move again.

Your voice reminded me of that wall you used to surround yourself with. I
went too far, pushed too insistently. Your coldness always put me off, made
me feel awkward and unfit. But I'll tell you something, Dawn. There is
almost nothing I wouldn't give to see that detachment in your eyes again,
that 'don't go there' compression of your lips. I would give anything to see
you alive again, to hold you again.

Well, I am talking to you. No, I don't see a ghost - and I am not insane.
But as I walk across the stone cold floor, I tell you how much I miss you,
how the void you left in my life can't be filled by anyone else and how much
I love you. I tell you that the Scoobies miss you too. That there always
seems to be an air of grief every time we pass your room. I tell you how
hard I'm trying to move on.

But I don't say what I really want to say. I don't ask you how you could
forfeit your life just like that, when you knew I was supposed to go. I
don't ask you whether you found out where your choice brought you. Maybe
you're burning in the pits of hell right now, like Angel was so long ago. Or
maybe you're in Heaven. Perhaps you reincarnated into a broom or something.
I really don't know. All I know is you did wrong, Dawn, and you died because
of it.

Why do I keep on thinking about it? Why sometimes, for a split second, I am
so angry that you died when I wanted to go. Why I constantly wonder why my
life has never been this empty.

I know there, that under that icy surface of yours that all teens hold
around their families, there was a blaze. You let me in sometimes. When Mom
died, when you found out you were the Key. But other than that, you never
let me in. Neither did I want you to. But now, with you gone, I keep
thinking about it. I feel like I am trying to find something - something
that you probably never could share.

I can't forgive you for making me think and leaving me without answers. For
leaving me alone.

Well, actually, I'm not that alone anymore. I found someone to talk to,
someone who is as willing to talk about you as I am, who has as much
memories to share. Someone who had no place in the world of fire that you
lived in. Someone who misses you too.

~

July 14th, 2001, 10:21 PM

The veil of smoke was grey, the hair a platinum blonde. Behind that foggy
mask, Spike's voice sounded smooth, richly accentuated with the notes of
amusement as he continued telling another story about a conversation he had
with Dawn. His lean body settled into his curved armchair. He crushed a
cigarette into the ashtray and his fingers moved slightly as if to reach for
another one - but he didn't.

"I keep on forgetting that I'm the one that can't get lung cancer here," he
said apologetically, interrupting his story. "Passive smoking a problem for
you, luv?"

"It's okay," Buffy said curtly, pacing around the room.

It wasn't that she minded an interruption. She found it faintly bothering
that, whatever Spike talked about, she liked to listen - and not only when
Dawn was concerned. Dawn had been the initial reason of all that. But
somehow, along the way, the situation had changed. And Buffy was not sure
she like how it was now.

She'd started meeting Spike several weeks after Dawn's death - the weeks
that were the worst. The weeks when she woke up at night with her fists
pressed to her eyes to get those horrible images of her nightmares out of
her head. But most of all, that horrible question that haunted her mind and
dreams every day and night. Why? What was there to make Dawn Summers,
pretty, young, straight-A student, give her life away? Was there anything at
all?

She had asked Willow. She had appeared to be worried, worried for her. She
had made a very subtle, almost non-existing question of a psych examination.
It had scared Buffy but had not ridden her of her doubts.

It was as she ran into Spike at the Bronze when a possibility of a way out
appeared distinctly for her.

She hadn't really talked to Spike after Dawn died, only when they needed to
fight a demon or something like that. She'd heard that Spike was doing well,
accumulating more money and power within the demon community. She had
answered a short nod of the vampire and realized that she was staring,
greedily, almost indecently, at Spike, at his composed, carefully blank
face, as if trying to read through him, trying to find in Spike's eyes
something that would mirror Buffy's own feelings.

"Can I visit you tomorrow?" she had asked on an impulse, without having
time to stop herself. "I'd like to talk."

A moment later Buffy had regretted those words, vowing fiercely that she
wouldn't forgive it if she even saw a shade of mockery in the vampire's
eyes, an unsaid question. What are you so desperate for, Blondie? But there
was nothing like that in Spike's eyes or his voice as the vampire said with
a shrug, putting another cigarette in his mouth.

"You know you're always welcome, pet."

Only later Buffy had realized she had never said what it was she wanted to
talk about. As if there was some other variant to her actions. It made her
feel strange, to know that there was another person who could tell her as
much about Dawn as she knew - who needed to talk as much as Buffy needed. It
made her feel elated at first - and angry, just a bit later, after she
already asked the question:

"Why did she have to die?"

"Maybe, because she lived."

Does that mean I don't live, she had wanted to say and never said it.

It was not the answer she wanted - especially not coming from an creature
like Spike, someone who had only known blood and death for a century and now
merely a helpless carcass that the Scoobies even pitied. Maybe, any answer
from him would make Buffy angry - because she didn't have one of her own.

The dependency she felt made her angry too. The way she kept meeting Spike,
time after time during the next few weeks, waiting for sunset almost
anxiously. Could Spike somehow hold for her more fascination that just the
things he said? Spike's face, with its sharp features and eyes of pale ice
had a weird effect on Buffy, both soothing for the pain that seemed to take
a permanent lodging inside her since Dawn's death -and paradoxically, made
her feel strangely restless.

She didn't want to be obliged to Spike. She didn't want to have anything in
common with Spike - neither her feelings for Dawn, her loneliness nor this
strange intimacy she sometimes felt. She didn't want to know that the only
man she could talk to recently was a demon on a leash.

"Why couldn't she just accept it? Why did she have to jump?" she had asked
him once.

"This you'll never understand, will you, Slayer?"

Buffy looked at Spike again, intently, as if trying to remind herself what
a proper state of things was. Spike met her gaze pointedly, continuing his
story. He had a curious manner of meeting someone's eyes, Buffy thought, as
if proving that he could handle the stare.

She wondered, inconsistently, how Spike could have cared for Dawn so much.
How he had never tried to hurt her or her mother for that matter all these
years.

"The Nibblet spent the rest of the day painting my nails and talking about
her ponce of a boyfriend, Kevin was it?" Spike finished his story.

"You never tried to hurt her, did you?"

The question was ugly, awkward and Buffy could barely believe she'd blurted
it out. It was so undignified, more humiliating for her than it was for
Spike. As if he cared. As if it mattered.

She saw Spike's lip part slightly, as if for a moment he was confused, and
then he answered deliberately.

"Sometimes I just can't follow that mind of yours, Slayer, asking me trick
questions you already know."

Buffy moved convulsively, a part of her wanting to hit Spike. But she also
felt another urge, another impulse, the one that was probably the best proof
to Spike's words. She went with that one. She leaned over Spike, putting her
knee on the armchair, and reached her hand to the vampire's face.

The phrase died on Spike's lips. Buffy stroked the lines of his face,
revealing the line of high cheekbone, the corner of a wide, ironic mouth and
the stare of ice blue eyes.

Spike's eyes were unblinking, calm, but the vampire's body was not so much
in control. Buffy could feel him trying to retreat deeper into the armchair,
as far as it was possible - as if an escape of Buffy's hand without taking
it off. He seemed to be desperately putting aside his body and mind's
impulses to her as Buffy ran her fingers over Spike's face.

It surprised her when her voice sounded hoarse and unsteady.

"Whenever I came here.did you think I ever wanted more from you?"

She knew she was incoherent, omitting parts necessary for understanding,
but she knew unmistakably that Spike understood.

"No. I thought you would never lower yourself to touch a #thing# like me."
Spike answered in a quiet, calm voice and raised his hand to exclaim his
point. His fingers nearly met Buffy's over his cheek. Nearly but not quite,
and this sent a pang of hunger through Buffy, making her want more.

Spike had a lively, derisive mouth; the mouth that Buffy used to see
clamped on a cigarette or curved in a distant smile. It seemed almost soft
from so close. Buffy felt another irresistible urge to touch it, to check if
Spike's lips were really so soft. She did what she wanted, pressing the tips
of her fingers to Spike's mouth. The vampire's gaze did not waver, just
became frozen, more controlled as Buffy's fingers wandered over his mouth
and then ventured further over his face, along the line of his jaw, over his
temple to his forehead.

Buffy sighed as a strange relief descended upon her. The tormenting
restlessness was going away. It felt right to do what she did, to feel
Spike's features against her fingers. It made her feel complete. Maybe, it
was what she needed all along, she thought. Maybe, it was the reason why she
came here, first of all.

But the relief didn't mean she was satisfied, that her need was gone as
well. In fact, it was more powerful than ever.

"I want you take off your clothes."

Her lips almost touched Spike's face. Her fingers traced the thin line of
his cheekbone. She knew Spike would do what she said. He had been wanted
this for so long, she knew. He couldn't reject her. He loved her.

Suddenly, a sting of pain pierced her wrist as Spike's long fingers clasped
onto it, pulling her hand away, not violent but inarguable.

Spike's hand was cool, gripping hard. Not so hard that Buffy wouldn't be
able to free herself, but maybe, enough to leave faint bruises on her skin.

"And why, exactly, would I do what you want?" Spike asked. He let Buffy go,
pushing her slightly away, and, unexpectedly, Buffy obeyed him, took her
knee away from the armchair and stepped back. She saw Spike smile. It was an
unpleasant smile that turned the corners of his mouth up but did not reach
his eyes.

"As difficult as it is for you to accept it, I'm not your whipping boy."
Spike's voice became civil, almost patient. "I don't belong to you, contrary
to popular belief. I'm not your nursemaid, let alone your dog."

"If I wanted to have you, you'd beg like a dog for me, you know that."

It was stupid. She regretted it as soon as she said it, but of course,
Spike was not going to let it slip. His laughter, cold and merciless, cut
through Buffy's nerves.

"Oh no, Slayer, that's not allowed. To have a passionate snog with the
helpless Spike-on-a-leash? Your reputation won't survive it. Not to mention,
your little Brat Pack will have a fit."

Buffy wanted to say that her reputation was her own concern, but bit her
tongue, as it would only rile Spike into more mockery. And it wouldn't be
true, anyway. Buffy had always been the reasonable one. She couldn't afford
to do anything stupid.

And why would she want to? She was good-looking, young and intelligent, she
could have any guy she wanted. She really didn't need Spike, did she?

She looked at Spike who settled back in the armchair and regarded Buffy
calmly, as if expecting something more. Buffy folded her arms across her
chest resolutely, deciding that there would be nothing. She'd already put
herself in a position awkward enough, a situation where she couldn't win
without losing as much.

"I'm glad we understand each other, Goldilocks." Spike said, standing up.
"You're a reasonable girl. And I think it's time for me to get a
well-deserved drink. Next time, when you come for a visit, make sure it'll
be a business talk."

Buffy deliberately did not look at him, instead studied the smooth texture
of the crypt wall. Yet she could hear clearly Spike's steps towards the
exit, the slight squeaky hinge of the opening door.

"Wait!"

She thought it was too late for Spike to hear, and even if it was not,
Spike wouldn't stop all the same. But she could feel the vampire stop just
inside the door and could sense Spike's expectant gaze on her. Angry,
nervous and even angrier because of it, Buffy walked towards him, making
Spike move back into the room. There was an unlit cigarette between Spike's
lips. He watched Buffy close the crypt door.

There was an attentive but unperturbed expression in Spike's eyes as he
observed Buffy come back into the middle of the room. Spike was silent and
Buffy knew she was the one to speak.

"What should I do?" She sounded almost resentful, with a note of
resignation in her voice. "To make you.go along?"

She didn't know if Spike's snort was about the awkward expression she used
or about the whole meaning of her words. She looked at the vampire with
almost defiance, biting her lip.

"What for, Slayer? Why do you need me to go along?"

"Because I want you." It was very blunt, but Buffy said it before thinking
or saying anything else. Somehow the whole situation was affecting her,
affecting her wits.whenever did she say or do so much without thinking? She
didn't know why it had to be like this, what Spike was doing to her.

She saw Spike move his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other,
and felt almost desperate for touching the vampire's face once more.

"And what if I don't want you?" Spike said, with something very harsh
underlining his words, something quiet, not amused and somewhat frightening.
"What if for me it's not enough that I want the pain to stop or the world to
fade away. It won't help you, Buffy. You won't get any closer to your
answers by fucking me."

Spike must've been right. It had to be about answers, grief, loneliness,
Dawn. What else? And yet somehow Spike's words hurt. Somehow the complete
and utter nakedness of his words pained her.

"I thought." She couldn't quite believe she was saying it, but the urge to
speak out overwhelmed her haughtiness. "I thought it wasn't just about that.
I thought that when I came here and we talked you.cared for me."

She saw Spike avert his eyes suddenly in that way he always did. She always
thought it was his equivalent of a human's blush. The look in his eyes was
very brief, gone almost immediately, and the cigarette, still unlit,
traveled to the other corner of his mouth. Buffy found it suddenly very
difficult to look at Spike's face, to expect a derisive smile appear upon
his lips, waiting for the retribution for what he'd just said.

Buffy turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. She felt hollow
inside, more than ever, not even angry anymore.

"I did." The words were very quiet, that at first she thought she hadn't
heard it. Spike didn't move, Buffy could feel it but she could also feel
that something had changed, an invisible wall separating them tearing down.
Hastily, in need to fix the achievement, and not letting herself think
again, Buffy turned back.

"If you take off your clothes, I'll take off mine, too."

There was a sparkle of humor in Spike's eyes, but not unkind this time, not
like before. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and dropped it into the
ashtray.

"You'll get the rotten end of the stick from this deal, Slayer. If you do
this, I'm not going to let you go, you know that. Think twice before you
jump on me."

"Shut up." She didn't care. She couldn't wait. Her fingers clasped the
neckline of his shirt almost feverishly and she froze, waiting for Spike to
take off his duster. Their eyes were locked on each other's as their hands
moved, discarding their clothes piece after piece.

It was slow. But Buffy's breathing was hastened, uneven, a draft of the air
against her bare skin chilling her and yet making her feel flushed, felt too
warm to touch.

She knew that Spike had been waiting for this moment for months, maybe even
years. She was reasonably sure that her body would please him. She couldn't
quite determine, though, what it was she felt as she looked at Spike as he
straightened in front of her. Was it a curiosity, unexpected, undignified in
her position? But wasn't she way past her dignity now?

For her whole life the only naked body she had experienced was big, strong,
athletic and towering over her. She was used to it and after spending so
much time with Riley's, she found a thrill at his new possibility. She felt
her heart speed up, making her feel young and vulnerable as she involved
herself in this dishonor. But she knew that if she was even going to regret
what she'd done later, she surely didn't feel regrets now.

Spike was more compact and thin than the others. His muscles were more
clearly defined in his smaller frame and they seemed more hard and concrete
than the soft warm flesh she knew. And Buffy found this even more enticing,
making her study Spike greedily for it. It was not boring. It was a proof
that Spike was real, that he was exactly the one she wanted.

"Now." Buffy barely recognized her own voice, so low and urgent. She
stepped towards Spike, covering the distance between them in one stride. "I
want to touch you."

This time Spike did not resist. Buffy couldn't see much of anything
anymore. They were so close that Spike's face blurred, white skin, blonde
hair and pale eyes. Buffy's hands were on Spike's face, cupping around it,
her fingers feeling unblemished softness of his skin.

She needed more touch, more contact, and yet was unwilling to let Spike's
face go. Their bodies touched below, his cock pressing against Buffy's belly
as she felt the man's erection harden to full extent. It made Buffy feel
glad and dazed, like she was drugged, and in desperate need for more. And
yet she was not sure what more there could be, what she could do without
relinquishing too much.

As if she already didn't relinquish more than was safe.

She felt Spike's hand on her temple, sliding into the mess of her hair,
pulling her head closer. And then Spike's mouth was on hers, tasting
cigarette in an almost familiar way, almost as if Buffy had tasted it
before. And so soft. Buffy felt Spike's tongue in her mouth and met it
unthinkingly, probably awkwardly, since they pushed and licked against each
other, hastily and clumsily. She knew her body moved in cadence with these
licks, her skin rubbing against Spike's. Her hands left Spike's face,
traveling over his shoulders, exploring the curves of his collarbones and
hollows of his chest. She withdrew slightly to take a breath and kissed
Spike's mouth, kissed all his face and buried her face against the vampire's
neck. She knew her motions were desperate, as unguarded as never before, and
Buffy thought it was all right. She had to get as much as possible before it
was all over.

And it was going to be all over soon, she knew it. It was all because of
her depression, all these long months of disorientation after Dawn's death.
It brought her this far, but there was a place where she had to stop.

She had to stop.

She was surprised at the wrenching pain she felt inside as she let Spike
go, but she did it, turning away, letting her hair cover her face. She
wouldn't be able to handle his stare, she knew that much.

"What's wrong, luv?" Spike's voice was soft, quiet. Buffy could feel his
intense gaze on her.

"Everything," she answered firmly. "Everything's wrong."

She was sadly triumphant on not letting any of the raw deprivation she felt
enter her voice. She was regaining control. Things were going to be like
before. She heard a faint sigh behind her and felt a shift in the air, and
then Spike's hands gathered her hair and pull it away from over her face to
behind her back.

The whisper against her ear was cool, and the feel of Spike's body pressed
to hers from behind was cool too. Buffy felt her resoluteness dwindle, drain
out hopelessly.

"No, it's right. Just let me show you how right it is."

"You want me to do it your way?" She turned slightly and Spike's eyes were
so close.

"How about we take turns?"

"Okay."

She agreed meekly, in a voice that was a mere whisper but it apparently was
all Spike needed. He took Buffy's hand, walked her to the armchair and
pushed her into it slightly. The texture of the couch was surprisingly
smooth against her skin making the contact almost unbearable. She stifled a
moan and had to stop herself from arching. Spike leaned over her, in
practically the same way Buffy had been leaning over him just a few minutes
ago, but Buffy didn't mind. In fact, she liked it better this way.

"Don't worry, pet. I won't do anything you won't like."

Spike's tone should have angered her, especially with the soothing notes in
it, as if Buffy needed his reassurance. But, maybe, she did. And maybe, she
liked how Spike said it. Spike's eyes were focused on hers as he leaned
closer, bringing their mouths together. The tips of his fingers were on
Buffy's skin, so swift and light that Buffy felt lost. She couldn't see what
Spike was doing and didn't know what to expect. A brush against her throat,
a light squeezing of her nipples, tracing the contours of her ribs and
abdomen. A hand sliding in between her legs.

Audacity of this touch shocked Buffy, but she was eagerly spreading her
thighs for him. Spike's rough palm lay against her there, still, and she
pushed into it, her moan into Spike's mouth sounding plaintive.

What had she done? She'd fallen. She knew it. She'd fallen worse than she
had before. Buffy didn't care. In fact, the thought of her fall, as creepy
as it was, made her feel proud, in a perverted way. She was breaking
everything truth she knew and she didn't give a damn.

She reached towards Spike when he broke their kiss. Spike's smile was brief
but not mocking. He bent to Buffy's chest, trailing kisses down to her hips.

Buffy knew what Spike was going to do as the vampire's lips touched her
belly and kept on going. A part of her wanted Spike's tongue inside her so
desperately. But a part of her, the one that sang with the realization of
irreversibility at finding her answers, made her act.

She heard a surprised, half-protesting cry of Spike as she gripped the
vampire and overturned him on the floor, getting on top. The impact was
heavy enough to make Spike gasp in pain. Remorseful, Buffy kissed his face,
trying to make up for it. She felt Spike squirm under her and relax,
chuckling slightly, the sound going through all of Buffy's body.

"This room is the worst place in my house for having sex, Slayer."

She placed a kiss on Spike's mouth, muffling the last words.

"There is no good place for having sex in your house. You live in a crypt."

She held Spike down effortlessly, kissing her way over the vampire's torso
and then, resolutely, she wrapped her mouth around the head of Spike's cock.
She heard Spike suck in a breath and felt triumph at being able to surprise
him, to do something Spike didn't expect.

Buffy knew what to do, in theory. She had been too shy her first time with
Angel and Riley felt too embarrassed to ever make her do something like that
for him. It turned out more difficult with the head of Spike's cock butting
against the back of her throat.

"Shh, easy, easy," Spike's hand was in her hair, stroking them, "Mind your
teeth, luv. You probably don't feel pain but I do."

Buffy settled into a kind of rhythm eventually, the sliding of her mouth
easy and slick with spit. It was a mess; she had to push her hair away from
her face to keep it out of her mouth but it still go there. But it was a
mess that felt real, something that made her feel real, too.

She let Spike's cock out of her mouth and moved, getting to straddle the
vampire's hips. Spike's pale face, the unnatural blonde of his hair stark
against the dark floor, looked dazed and lost in passion.

Once more, she was surprised with the swiftness and strength of Spike's
motions as the vampire sat up, holding her on his lap, his laughing eyes
close to Buffy's. "My turn."

Spike's arms were wrapped around her, rearranging her body as if she were a
doll in his lap. He released one arm and made indistinguishable patterns on
her skin as his fingers slipped past her hips. She moaned pitifully,
striving towards him. Spike's index finger pressed against her opening,
sliding inside slowly and confidently.

She was not prepared for so much pleasure as Spike touched something inside
her, as if a flower of warmth was blossoming inside her. She shivered and
thrust back involuntarily, trying to get more of this finger, tossing her
head back.

"Here, here," Spike whispered against her throat, kissing her into silence.
The second finger made Buffy feel even more pleasure than she ever thought
she could handle. She needed more.

"Please." Buffy whispered.

She rose on her knees, set herself against Spike's cock, and pushed him
inside of her, lowering herself slowly into Spike's lap. Spike's arms were a
solid cradle around her, holding her. She let out a small noise of euphoria
when she was down all the way.

"You're inside me." she gasped.

"Oh, you bet I am," Spike smiled, his voice light and affectionate. The
sound of it, the breathlessness sent twinges both painful and sweet through
Buffy. She took Spike's face in her hands and rose, slid down again, and
rose again, all the while looking into the widened, pleasure dazed eyes of
Spike.

She knew she was doing right for Spike, and she also found this angle sent
shivers of enjoyment throughout her body. She felt Spike's hands clench on
her thighs as the vampire was losing control.

"This is perfect," Buffy said, her voice a mere gasp as she continued
thrusting.

It was. He was. His face so clear and unguarded as never before.

It made her wince painfully as she saw something bitter sweep over Spike's
face, his mouth twitching slightly.

"Do you mean me, Slayer? Or are you talking to my cock?"

It hurt. It was unfair and it made Buffy feel like striking back, paying
Spike in kind, even as her body continued its motions.

"Why do keep on mentioning this? If you want to stop, just tell me."

"I'd rather be dead." And, before Buffy could register that strange answer,
Spike's arms tightened around her, laughter sparkling in his eyes. "You are
such a baby, Buffy, beneath all this. Let's stop talking nonsense. Kiss me."

She did, and felt relief flood her. A slow, lingering spasm of pleasure
going through her as she came, barely aware of the rigidity of Spike's body
as he froze in his own orgasm.

A few moments later they were stretched out on the floor, Spike's arms
wrapped around Buffy loosely. Buffy found out that with her head tilted up
slightly she could see Spike's pale profile and his dreamy, heavy-lidded
eyes.

She saw Spike reach for the cigarettes in the pocket of his duster and
sighed, providing an ashtray.

"Care for one, luv?"

"Nah, those things will ruin your lungs."

Spike shrugged and lit it up, inhaling it slowly and letting it out. The
comfortable silence went on for a while before Spike took his duster and
spread it out over them.

"How about doing it in bed next time?" Buffy asked, her voice unexpectedly
small and hopeful.

She heard Spike chuckle in relief and something she hadn't heard from him
in a while, contentment.

~

August 9th, 2001, 1:42 PM

There were no clouds in the sky that bright afternoon and the sun shone
down upon the Summers' home porch. Buffy closed her eyes briefly as the
light summer breeze gently moved her hair, enjoying the feel of the fresh
wind. She was seated comfortably on the steps, Willow sipping her lemonade
beside her. Buffy's hands idly played with the plastic straw of her drink
and she could feel the cold smoothness of the glass against her palm.

"Buffy?" Willow said, putting her drink down beside her and turning to
Buffy, a serious look on her face.

"Yeah, Will?"

"I know this is right out of the blue and everything, but I just want to
say.I'm proud of you. You know, I thought for a while after.everything that
happened, that I was going to lose you. But you're doing okay. You've been
taking care of everyone this summer and I want you to know you haven't let
any of us down. So.yeah, that's it."

Buffy smiled gently at her friend. Willow smiled back, somewhat shy and
embarrassed. Buffy was glad to have her friends around; they had kept her
calm and levelheaded at the beginning and they had never given up on her,
even when she wished they would.

"Thank you, Willow. You don't know how much that means, really."

"I like how you've been changing. I mean, a few weeks ago you were.I got
kinda of freaked out," Willow told her, "You look a lot better. Have you
been sleeping well?"

"I guess I've reacquired the taste of life," Buffy answered.

There was no point of denying the changes. The others would eventually find
out, and she wanted to be the first one to let her friends know. Buffy knew
how to do it. She was not going to lie anymore or hide, she knew it was
pointless.

Denial had brought her nowhere, just hurt her friends and betrayed the
people she most cared about. Buffy was not going to repeat those mistakes.
She was more experienced than she was before, much wiser.

And, the truth was, something told her they would understand her actions.
They probably wouldn't accept her doing it anymore but.

"Will, there's something I need to tell you. And I don't think you're going
to like it."

~

"Wow." Willow said, wringing her hands in her lap. "I.I had no idea. I'm
glad you told me but.wow."

"I know it's a lot, Will-"

"You're going to stop though, now that you told me. Right?"

"I.I should."

Willow took Buffy's hands in hers and clutched them. "This isn't good for
you, Buffy. Now that you're doing well, feeling better, you don't have to do
this anymore. Spike isn't good for you. I'm worried about what he might do
to you."

"Yeah, I know. I'm stronger than this. I should go tell him, then all of
this will be over." Her mind was suddenly filled with memories of the last
couple weeks. Spike's hand around her as she fell asleep, kissing her damp
shoulders from the rain, undressing her slowly as his eyes never left hers.

"He.he never tried to hurt you, did he?" Willow stammered.

"Not once." Buffy said softly, her eyes still lost in that other place.

"I want you to be happy, Buffy," Willow told her, her voice changing from
nervousness to a gentle, maternal tone. "Just do what's right, okay?"

"Okay." Buffy answered. She suddenly wonder what was right. Was merely
feeling anything that felt wonderful wrong? She wondered why she even slept
with Spike in the first place, even though her regrets did not number high.
She wondered what would happen if she didn't say no. What if her friends
never forgave her, abandoned her and always looked upon her with distrust
and betrayal?

No, she had to do what was right. Again.

"I have to go to Tara's now. We have a study date, but if you don't want me
to leave I won't-"

"No, Will, it's okay. I need to take a shower anyway."

Willow smiled at her once more and gave her a hug. "Remember, you're
stronger than this, you don't need to do this anymore. I love you, Buffy."

"I love you too."

When Willow was out of sight, Buffy got up and walked upstairs. Outside her
room, she suddenly felt weak and half-slumped against the wall, fighting the
tears that threatened to pour down her cheeks.

She'd lied to Willow. She did need what Spike gave her; she didn't know if
she was strong enough without it. She didn't know if anything was really
going on between Spike and her and she didn't know if Willow suspected
anything of the sort. But she had lied, anyway. She had only told her enough
so that she could alleviate her guilt. It made her feel cold and hollow.

Buffy stayed in the empty hallway until she couldn't cry anymore.

~

As she walked home from patrol, Buffy still felt as if the ground had been
knocked out from under her. She killed three vampires quickly and swiftly
and walked slowly back to her house. She pulled off her coat and put her
stakes away then trumped up the stairs. She remembered that the house would
be empty tonight again, Dawn at her friend's. She entered her room and
stopped still in her tracks, looking at the vampire who got up off her bed
with a small smirk and loving eyes.

"Spike, w-what are you doing here?"

"I thought you probably might have half an hour for me." Spike's voice
started in a reserved, quiet way as he moved towards Buffy, his smile a
careful, distant one. He took her in her arms and Buffy felt her resolve
melt away, burying her face in his neck. She thought to push him away, but
as Spike's clever fingers brushed through her hair and leaned away slightly,
looking into his eyes that hid nothing, she knew she couldn't. "Or maybe,
you'd have a couple hours for us," Spike continued, taking Buffy's face in
his palms, kissing her lips as they yielded to him. "Or the whole night?"

Slipping down on her knees and tugging at Spike's zipper, Buffy thought
that she knew what it was to fall. She thought briefly of Willow and telling
her that she would stop. She also thought that she felt better again. And
then she didn't think much at all.

~

August 10th, 2001, 5:38 PM

"Buffy?" Spike's eyes, drooping from his interrupted rest, blinked tiredly,
but his voice was warm at once, its sound making Buffy's heart sink. She
stood in the doorway of Spike's crypt, appeared there without knocking as
she usually did, and the sunlight wafting in through the door.

"Come on in, pet. But close the door would you, you're letting in-" He got
up off his armchair and took a few steps towards Buffy. That was when she
hit him.

Her fist slammed into Spike's jaw so hard that pain resounded throughout
her own wrist. It threw Spike against the wall, his face going blank and his
eyes wide and dazed. It all seemed to happen very slowly, as Buffy hit him
again, backhanded him, feeling the softness of Spike's lips split against
her knuckles. Spike's head rolled with the blow, falling on his face. Buffy
hit him again, this time with her open palm.

She saw Spike clutch at the wall, trying to stay on his feet. Part of her
mind wanted her to continue, to beat him worse than she ever had before.
Anger bubbled inside her, anger and pain. But another pain was stronger, was
settled deeper, and her intense emotions were draining her out. She raised
her hand again, and let it fall.

"You stupid bastard, Spike. Do you even know how stupid you are?"

She saw the involuntary protective stance of the vampire change slightly as
Spike stood up. There were slow trickles of blood crawling out of his nose
and a bruise was forming almost immediately on his jaw. His eyes were down
at the floor as he touched the trail of blood with his fingers.

"You're not going to ask me what this is all about?" Buffy asked bitterly.

Spike lifted his head, met Buffy's eyes, and spoke to her in a tone that
already knew the answers. "What's this all about, Slayer?"

There was no defiance in his voice, and Buffy didn't know if it disarmed
her, or made her feel even worse. She'd thought she'd feel better, after
hitting this stupid idiot, after letting out her anger. But now she just
felt awkward, disoriented. She felt nearly as disoriented as she had felt
after Dawn's death.

"Why did you have to do it?"

"Do what? What are you talking about?"

"Why did you have to let me be with you? You knew what it would do to me,
Spike, you knew. You knew that our.whatever it is we have, wasn't right.
Wasn't possible, and you let me."

"Why do you think I had any say in this, Buffy?" There was no hostility in
Spike's eyes as he spoke. "I warned you, you wanted this. You let yourself."

"I know that." Buffy said wearily. ".I told Willow. About us, I mean. I
told her I would stop, that I didn't need you. And just a couple of hours
later, I.I lied to her, Spike. I slept with you behind her back in my room."

Spike was silent and averted his eyes. It was a small gesture, those
wandering eyes with its distant look, and it infuriated Buffy. It made her
feel ravaged, empty inside. The way Spike looked at her had never looked
this detached, this lonely. As if he had nothing to expect from Buffy,
nothing to hope for.

"Well, I suppose you've come to tell me that our little affair is over?"
Spike asked.

The brittle, almost imperceptible amount of pain in Spike's voice made
something break inside Buffy.

"N-no."

"So," Spike's voice was very careful, his eyes so intent on Buffy she found
it hard to keep his gaze, "When will your Scoobies come for me? Y'know, so
they decorate my house with my ashes."

It was impossible to bear. Buffy turned away, pushing out the words with an
effort.

"Never. Only Willow knows. And.she won't tell. Besides, she thinks
it's.over between us."

She heard a faint sound Spike made, recognizing surprise in it and hardly
any relief, a very guarded sound. It made pain flood her, for everything
that was happening with them, for what they had both done.

"I don't get it, pet."

"The others won't know. You're safe."

"Why did you do it?" Spike's voice became urgent, almost desperate. Buffy
didn't want to think for an answer, there was only she could give so she
gave it.

"I couldn't stand losing.this.you." she said. "I need you.what you make me
feel. I can't take it by myself."

"They will know," Spike said painfully, "They won't forgive you."

"I can deal with them." It was a presumptuous thing to say but her only
hope.

"You're willing to lie to your friends," Spike started, his voice strong
and incredulous, and then fell down to barely perceptible, ".for me?"

Buffy shrugged, averting her eyes.

It didn't matter so much, what was going to happen between her and the
Scoobies, not now, anyway. Something.everything felt wrong. Somehow she'd
managed to mess up everything. But at this moment choosing to stay with
Spike was the one thing she didn't regret.

"You are one crazy, arrogant Slayer, you know that?"

She looked back to Spike, and saw his mouth curve upwards. It was a slow
smile, an awkward smile, as if Spike was out of habit of doing it. He
snorted blood and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, putting one
of them in his mouth.

She could hear barely restrained laughter in Spike's voice. Buffy thought
she had never heard anything better.

"If you do something, you go to the very end, right?"

"I." she said. "I don't know."

"When you're good, you're the best at what you do. Regular Superman you
are, except with a hell of a lot nicer rack. And when you're bad, then."

Maybe, she'd feel bad one day, Buffy thought. She was a criminal, a liar
many times, in the eyes of everyone else, including herself. She couldn't
care less now.

"That's why I love you." Spike finished.

"What?" she flinched. She had heard his declarations of love many times
before, but this was different. With a conviction she had never heard
before.

"I love you," Spike repeated. His body made a small movement, as if he
wanted to reach for Buffy but didn't dare, and Buffy felt pangs of hurt at
seeing it. She could never get used to how bold, how rash Spike could be at
moments, and how guarded, curled inside his shell he was sometimes.

Spike's eyes were agonizingly steady, with pride and shame beneath its calm
surface.

"You really do, don't you?"

"How many times do I have to repeat it for you, luv?" A small smile
flickered across Spike's lips. Buffy sighed, letting the pain go, and
wrapped her arms around him.

It felt right. It felt good, the lean long body in her arms, the soft, cool
smoothness of skin against her cheek, even the unlit cigarette in Spike's
hand that he had crushed between his fingers. Buffy held Spike until she
felt the vampire's body relax against hers and Spike's fingers clutch at her
clothes.

She caught Spike's mouth, kissing it, washed over by relief. She knew later
she would be able to relish all the other things that Spike's words implied.
But at this moment she just felt like she'd done something terribly
difficult, and done it successfully, and now she could rest.

She tasted blood on his tongue, probably the one she'd licked from Spike's
lips. She withdrew slightly and touched Spike's face carefully, wetting the
tips of her fingers in red.

"I'm sorry."

"You held back, didn't you?"

"Why would I?" She rolled her eyes mockingly, "I was mad at you. I still
am, if you want to know."

"I don't." Spike said, running his fingers across Buffy's cheek.

~

Will you ever forgive me? I watched you as you ran toward your end, jumped
off into that pool of fire and death. And I told you not to go, I told you
to live for me. I had told you there was a way for life not to be just a
means to an end. There was a way to live and still be happy. I told you to
protect what was dear to you, and to stay alive.

I'm sorry Dawn, I didn't know at the time.

It's too late for you now, but can you forgive me that it's not to late for
me?

I remember laughing at you when you told me Spike was in love with me. I
wish you were here. I wish you knew what has been happening for the last
couple months. I wouldn't laugh at you. You can laugh at me.