Title: LOVE’S SECRETS

Author: Kur

Disclaimer: I only own the plot. But you already know that so…

Rated: NC - 17

Summary: While reading an old Slayer's diary, Buffy not only finds out her true feelings for Spike but something else.

Thanks: to Pattyanne for being such a great friend. (I wouldn’t have the courage if it hadn’t been for you) To my beta Cathy for all her sweet words, for her patience and for the lovely title for this story.

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LOVE’S SECRETS

_ Giles? You’re back? – Buffy asked in surprise as he came into the shop, - I mean, you’re back!

She was about to hug him when she stopped still, her arms crossed over her chest. - Is this something you’re playing at? An English game to shatter my heart, or what?

_ I thought you were going to be glad, - he smiled, as he placed his belongings on the couch, - After all, you didn’t want me to go in the first place.

_ And you did it all the same, so? Look, in case you came back ‘cause a huge amount of guilt, I’m...

_ I didn’t come back because of that. I know you can handle yourself.

She stared at him, for what seemed like hours, before bursting into a deep laugh. _ _Handle..., sure, why not? You don’t know how I really handle it and I guess you wouldn’t even care to know. Anyway, do you know Riley has a wife now? They both are smart-asses and kicking asses, as well. Over me completely. Which I guess is ok. After all, kinda hate the guy sometimes, you know? No, you wouldn’t. I never told you that, of course. Lots of things I’ve never said anything about, I guess, - she whispered, looking at the floor.

His eyes brows raised interrogatively. He wanted to ask; he was desperate to ask. He could feel her pain under the words; the suffering behind the glare in her eyes; the longing to unwrap her emotions and set them free once and for all. But he remained silent; too terrified to listen to something he wouldn’t like to hear, mostly about him; about his influence over her.

_ Sometimes I feel I’m a bitch or a monster, if you prefer. After all, I’ve spent so many years fighting them that maybe something of them has stuck in me, - she couldn’t help laughing bitterly.

He finally swallowed the knot in his throat, picking up courage to reply. _ I think I can listen to whatever you want to share.

_ You think? Well, thank you so much for your support. I don’t really need it, you see. I’m perfectly capable of screwing everything up myself.

_ You didn’t push him away. It was his choice. He just couldn’t deal with it.

_ You mean that I put him through a hard time ‘cause I felt superior to him?

_ Of course not!

_ Kidding, - she slapped his shoulder softly. _ He was always trying to patronise me. Or maybe he felt he wasn’t good enough, that his demon part wasn’t enough for me, if he’d had one, I mean.

_ What are you talking about? -Giles sat on the couch, his hands rubbing his temples as if he was suffering from a sudden, violent headache.

_ Nothing, - her hand waved in the air. _ Besides, I don’t really care. Really, - she assured him with strong conviction. _ I felt a little bit envious, I think. Or maybe it had to do with my self- pride. You know, he managed to get over me. ME! I guess that made me believe I wasn’t that special.

_ You are special.

_ I know, - she couldn’t help but smile at the shock in his eyes. She’d never accepted compliments before in such a willing way. _ I mean, I’m sick and tired of pretending that one day I’m going to have a normal life as an ordinary girl. Besides, how lame is that? Who wants to be ordinary, anyway? Everyone wants to be special.

_ Yes, that’s true, - he agreed in a whisper. Silence fell on them for almost five minutes, until Giles finally jumped from his seat and grabbed the big leather bag that lay beside him. The noise of the zipper was one of a metal worm scratching the bricks of an empty house. Buffy shuddered at the noise, putting aside images as well as known noises that sounded alike.

_ I brought this, - he gently pulled out an old box from the bag. It was big and dirty and Buffy couldn’t help an image of Giles digging in a tomb in an old English cemetery, collecting odd tokens for her, from jumping into her mind. _ The Council found it in an old house. What? - he asked as she jumped on her feet.

_ Nothing, - she muttered quickly. _ I’ve been a little bit jumpy lately, that’s all. Please, tell the tale, Giles.

_ Well, then. The whole thing was very strange, really. They said that if that fellow hadn’t stumbled and fallen in that cellar they wouldn’t have found it. But the floor was made of wood, old and rotten, and it cracked under his weight.

_ And the box here is important because...?

_ They think it belonged to a Slayer. In fact, a Slayer nobody knows a thing about. That was why they were searching the house. The Council supposed it was her home.

_ A Slayer nobody knows about? You mean an English Slayer? But you’ve told me about her. The way she was killed... - she shuddered again at the thought. That particular tale had never been her favourite topic.

_ But, if you remember correctly, all we knew about her was her rising and her fall. What’s in the middle? How did she manage to perform her duties at that time? Who was her Watcher, if she had any? Where did she live?

_ She was kind of an aristocrat, I recall, - she didn’t notice her hand moving slowly over the box as if it had cast a spell on her.

_ She was of a wealthy family, that’s all we know. There are certain records of her life but they stop three years before her death. What happened to her in those years?

_ Maybe she just left. I could understand that, you know, - the sadness in her voice made him shiver. _ Perhaps she went away. To Paris, that’s it! – her mood switched again and Giles frowned deeply. _ I mean, it was near the whole “vive la vie” or whatever.

_ Maybe, - he took out a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned the box thoroughly.

_ Look! “A. K.” Maybe it was her name? Or maybe it belonged to an old woman who happened to keep her savings in that box and forgot about telling anybody before she died. I mean, it was probably safer than a bank.

_ English banks have always been safe! Even at that time!

She stayed serious for a moment just to burst into a rough laughter at the next one. He was truly amazing!

_ Ok, ok. I apologise for being so “yank”, ok? Anyway, the carving on the top is really beautiful, don’t you think? Look at those silver and gold threads on the letters. Let’s see if it’s unlocked, - she said, praying for it to be.

A sudden gasp escaped from her lips as she finally opened the lid. On a deep red velvet core, there was a book, a thick old book, beautifully carved with a figure that had the shape of a gothic monk, like those you can see at the porch of old cathedrals. The hood of his long gown fell onto his face, hiding him from common eyes, and his hands were clasped together as if he was praying or waiting for something with extreme patience.

Buffy opened it at random with fingers that shook too much. She could feel her heart beating so heavily in her chest that it was nearly painful.

_ It seems to be a journal. A Slayer’s journal? For Christ’s sake, Giles! Do you know what that means?

He only nodded, overwhelmed by a fearful and respectful emotion. Suddenly he found himself listening to the words Buffy had begun to read in a slow, whispering and bewitching tone.

“September, 26 Th., 1881. I saw him tonight. He was standing in a corner, under a lamp. The light shone on his fair (no, not fair. Honey, that’s it.) hair. And his eyes! As those of the wild cats you can see only in books. They were blue and yet, they were green and a little bit grey as those infinite skies in Yorkshire when the rocks melt with the horizon at dawn. Although he was dressed in black, he stood out so well against that dark corner! It reminded me of a poem, I cannot place right now. But at that moment the words came to my mind as if someone was whispering them in my ears. I must stop this. He is forbidden, I know. But I cannot help myself from thinking of him. All the way home I thought of him. This longing, these odd feelings; what is this I am not able to restrain my heart from? Oh my dear Lord, help me. Help me, please.”

_ Are you sure this belonged to a Slayer? – she asked, a little amused, - I mean, it seems like a teen’s journal with a pompous style.

Giles nodded his head, smiling a little. _ A.K. Her name was Alexia Kellington. She WAS a Slayer.

Suddenly his eyes opened widely as if he’d been struck with a revelation. _ Those three years... Maybe she did know somebody. Maybe...

_ They ran away, - Buffy finished the sentence with a delighted tone. _ What? Romantic stuff, wow!

He sighed as he continued wondering. _ “Forbidden”, she wrote. Was he married? It’d certainly explain...

_ A demon, - she stated firmly against his frowned eyebrows, - It’s more suitable. You know, the whole Slayer thing. So let’s see if we can find more clues. The following date is October 2^{nd. “Another party”, - she read before giggling, - well, at least she had more social life than me. Ok, ok. I’ m reading, see? “Stephen insisted all afternoon and I could not refuse. Lord and Lady Welling, he said. We MUST be there. I have no choice. I wish I could have been out in the streets looking for a clue.”}

_ Wait a moment. Who is Stephen, by the way? Her Watcher? Her brother?

_ Her husband? - her eyes shone playfully,- Maybe she was cheating on him! That’s why the other one was forbidden. Well, at least at first but then...

_ Have you been watching soap operas? Your mother liked them, - he excused the look on her face. _ Come on, she even sat down with Spike to watch them. How pathetic is that in a vampire, anyway?

Buffy didn’t answer. Every time his name appeared in a conversation the void in her heart seemed to grow in such a painful way that it was physically unbearable. She didn’t want to even think about that ‘cause it’d mean she’d have to analyse it, and she was definitively not in an analytic mood when it came to Spike stuff. ‘Cause, after all, she had chosen the right path, hadn’t she? Leaving him, getting away from his evil being was the right thing to do. Then why...?

_ Let’s go on with the reading, ok? - she asked eagerly, brushing off the thoughts. _ So, where was I? Yeah. “I am so glad I went! Or maybe not. I am more confused and certainly much more scared. I can’t recognize myself and yet, I don’t care at all.

“And that’s more that I can say about me.”

“He was there. I nearly fainted when I saw him. I’d cheated on myself all the way to the Welling’s house; something in my heart hoping for him to be there at a dark corner, something in my mind commanding me to stop and forget the whole thing. But he was there and I’ll never be able to explain the happiness and the joy that fact brought to my heart. When the band started playing he crossed the hall to ask me for a dance. My heart was pounding so strongly that I couldn’t even listen to the music, not even his words. My mind screamed “NO” but in spite of that I found myself in his arms against all my beliefs. How could I ever explain what I felt when his hand touched mine? When he stared at me with those magnificent blue eyes? I was so aware of his nearness; too close for everything that is correct. Yet, I couldn’t care the less. My mind erased all people as if they had been vanished from the place just to leave us alone. It was him; he was all I could look at and he was perfect. This is insane! I shouldn’t have written this down. I’ve got to find an explanation, some spell. Or maybe this is a spell! Or I’m possessed! I must control myself! I must tear up these odd emotions that I can’t resist”

_ Wow! – Buffy took a long breath before exhaling it loudly, - He really was dragging her in, wasn’t he? I mean... What’s that?

Giles was holding a long silver chain he had taken from the bottom of the box. It had a beautiful locket at the end of it, as well as a golden ring.

_ It’s a locket, very Victorian, don’t you think? , - he didn’t realize he was whispering with a thread of stupid respect.

_ If you say so, - Buffy ignored the gooey comment and rubbed her hands in anticipation_ Well, open it then!

As much as he struggled with the lock of the little piece he wasn’t able to make it work. It seemed broken in some sort of way. As if it had had another part joined to it a long time ago.

_ Maybe it’s rusty. Damn it! I want to see him! By the way she writes, he’d have to be quite a hottie.

The door opened before Giles could begin his homily. Buffy thanked Willow silently.

_ Well, are you two going to spend the whole evening here whispering secrets to each other? There is certain research that we have to do, remember? Talk about a bunch of things. You know, the evil trio and that stuff.

_ Oh, come on! - Buffy put the book and the locket in the box again, a little bit annoyed for the interruption. _ There’s not going to be such a thing as researching but a lot of babbling about the wedding and then Anya’ll hide bride magazines in the magic tomes and Xander’ll shout at her and Dawn is going to giggle all the way.

Willow smiled and nodded but insisted on them to join the rest at the shop. Buffy snorted softly. All she really wanted right then was to keep on reading. She knew that there was something in those pages that would help her with her own entangled emotions. Obviously the former Slayer had been as confused as she was. The difference between them was that she let the confusion scare her in such a way that she ran away from it as fast as hell. Apparently the former Slayer had jumped into it, not afraid about the consequences. In matters of the heart she wasn’t as brave as she was in battle. In matters of love she felt insecure, it was a battlefield in which she wasn’t that sure about her own victory. “Better retreat; not get scarred”

How had she managed to survive through hours of listening to Anya talking about the bride gown, the honeymoon, the first sex night once she got married and all the other sex nonsense she’s always chattering about? Research was nothing but a whole hoo-ha.

Thank God it was over. A quick patrolling thing, avoiding certain parts of the cemetery, -in fact avoiding one in particular, - and she was ready to go home and sink into the old pages of the journal again.

_ Dawn? - she called when she listened to the sound of the TV as soon as she closed the front door. God, did that little girl pay any attention to anything she asked for? Homework, TV, and bed at nine. Perfectly clear. At least it sounded like that in her own ears. _ Dawn! What have I..., - her angry voice dropped dead at the sight of Spike; the words entangled in a sharp knot in her throat as he rose from the couch where he’d been sitting. His blue eyes barely gazed at her before returning quickly to Dawn.

_ Think it’s time for me to leave, nibblet. Now that you’re not alone, I mean, - he merely whispered, a sound that made Buffy’s spine shiver. _ See you.

He put on his leather duster as he moved towards the front door. Buffy muttered a soft “bye”. He didn’t even reply.

_ Well, what did you expect? Him dancing the “Oh, I’m so happy to see you again” dance? After the way you ditched him? And what did HE expect? After that entire demon thing? Dealer of dangerous stuff and taunting all the way at Riley’s face only ‘cause I happened to be naked by his side? He’s evil, he’s a pig and he’s disgusting, - she shouted under the hot shower but the words seemed to be spoken by somebody else. They never reached her own core and she found herself sobbing under the water, a painful sense of loss grabbing her heart like the sharpened claw of a tiger. _ Enough!

She dried herself with furious hands, got dressed in the same way and went downstairs even more pissed. Staring at the microwave she considered a mug of hot cocoa would calm her enough to sit down and read but that only made her feel worse. “Not hot cocoa. Bad drink for big baddies” _Nothing then, - she said in a hoarse voice.

Ten minutes later sitting with crossed legs on the bed; she sipped from the mug filled with cocoa turning the pages slowly.

“October 11 Th. – Mary, well, LADY Mary now, has just arrived from her honeymoon and came right away for a short visit. All I can tell is that she’s extraordinarily changed as if she’d grown up at incredible speed. It’s not that, though. I know it well , since she’s no longer a girl but a woman. It’s all over her, as a glowing cloak of happiness. She didn’t spare any details about that issue and, as much as it shocked me and made me blush as if I’d sunk in hell itself, I couldn’t help myself from drifting away as images of blue eyes flashed in my mind. I never thought I’d be that naughty. I can’t recognize myself anymore. Before leaving she couldn’t restrain herself from asking about Charles, that fellow she introduced me to last summer. The simple question caught me on the raw. As much as I’d always wanted to have an ordinary life, mine is far away from that. No single man out there would ever be able to understand what I am, who I am. He’d have to be like me and that’s impossible, I’m afraid. And yet...yet, that’s not quite true, is it? Of course it is. He doesn’t count. He must be erased. ”

Buffy put the mug on the floor trying to catch a wide yawn in her fist. Her swollen eyes prayed for mercy but she was so wrapped up in the story that she couldn’t help but sinking into the book again. Trying to read, she found herself thinking of Riley. He finally had found a good woman for himself; somebody not stuck between two worlds he would never be able to understand in a complete way. A woman he could take care of, weak enough for him to help her fight those battles. No super powers in the middle to make him feel like an outcast or less special. Their strengths were equal; their lives were equal. Taking care of each other, simple mortal human beings. There’s nobody out there for her either and yet... it wasn’t actually true, was it? Spike had always been there for her to lean on. He’d never tried to become a knight in shinning armour ‘cause he knew damned well she’d take care of herself, something Riley never understood. “Don’t think about him. Read, read, just read”.

“October 15 Th. – Another ball, another dance. Under the moonlight at John’s house. It’s wrong, I know, but somehow it’s meant to be. Maybe it was the moon, so suitable for both of us. I lost myself in his arms. I’d feel his lips, his breath, brushing against my neck. Fear mixed up with an incredible and powerful desire I couldn’t deny. His face nuzzled my hair, his hands wandered about my back. Fear faded away and I abandoned myself to the strong feelings that ran through my body and my veins. Tickling skin and boiling blood as my body pressed eagerly against his. I was terrified by the intensity of my emotions and yet I felt as if I’d reached the Promised Land. Now that I’m alone again, I’ve come back to my senses. I need to control myself and there’s only one way I can get rid of this. I know it well. If only my heart wouldn’t shatter into pieces at the mere thought of it! If only I could pick up the courage... he’d be no more.”

Buffy shut the book hastily. The words hammered in her head as if she’d written them all. Memories of Spike’s hands, lips, unneeded breath, assaulted all her defences, destroying them as she buried her face in her pillows. Tears kept on falling down her cheeks, even after she sank into a deep sleep.

Standing behind the counter at work, she stepped aside a little to look at the customers who sat down at the tables. As much as she’d tried to silence it, a male voice kept on whispering in her head. “A normal job for a normal girl”. How many times had she tried that? Every time it turned out to be a complete failure, and every time she just kept on trying, against that undeniable fact. Her hand moved to the chain hanging from her neck. That morning, after two aspirins and a cup of bitter hot coffee, she took the locket and without even thinking about it, she hung it around her neck. All morning, when she thought she wouldn’t be able to stand people anymore, her fingers played with the chain and the golden ring as the words of the former Slayer mixed with those Spike had told her in that very place. “Who am I kidding, anyway? He’s right, as usual. I hate him more when he’s right. If only I could trust him enough... No, probably he’d steal the money or worse. Deal with nasty things and then I really would have to kill him” But sometimes, sometimes, she dreamt that he could take care of her. He had that annoying way of taking care of her, where he kept trying for her not to notice it. Always behind her when she’s patrolling and never getting in the middle of her own battles unless there were too many demons for her to handle them all. Always one step ahead, with her sister’s issues, with her issues; always witty and comprehensive. And the look in his eyes! Nobody had ever looked at her like that, not even Angel. So much love, so many emotions that would sound dull and empty if they were put into spoken words. Why couldn’t she pick up the courage to put aside all her restraints and let herself be happy, at least for once? Responsibilities, she always lied to herself. The real problem with her was that she was terrified of being loved. Not because she really believed he’d ever leave her. She knew damned well it would take a stake for him to do that. No, it was her; she thought she wasn’t worthy of being loved; sometimes because she felt she was nothing, and other times because she really thought she was above them all. “You’re beneath me” Was he? She was, she really was beneath any love skill and that hurt so much that being alone was so much better. Till those moments when it took all her will not to throw that stinky uniform on the greasy floor and fly right to his crypt, right to his arms, right to his soft accented voice whispering loving words. Her wet eyes swept the place once more. Unpleasant customers eating unpleasant food in an unpleasant way. “You don’t belong here.” Of course I don’t. Where the hell do I belong then? “You’re not happy here” But I’m not happy anywhere. Yet, that’s not true. Allow yourself to leave. Cut the leash you have put on your heart. Scream loud; he will hear you. He’ll save you. Do it!

She ran away to the restroom and threw up the coffee and the aspirins while tears burst into frantic sobs. Leaning against the cold green wall, her mind taking notice of the coldness of it, she slipped to the floor where she curled up, a knot of trembling, painful flesh.

Two days off for the wedding, a happy occasion for all of them. Buffy gazed at Xander with distant eyes. He’s going to marry an ex – demon. One thousand years old; one thousand killings in her rucksack and yet he didn’t give a damn about it, as he’d always done when it came to HER boyfriends. Anya was human now. A soul spares everything? Erase the slaughter and the pain, the tears and suffering? A soul... If only he... No, it wouldn’t be the same. Angel had a soul and in spite of that fact he was as coward as she was with love stuff. Leaving, for her to have a normal life. He should have known better. Someone like her would never be able to have a normal life. She’d believed that lie and took the wrong path only based on his words. Did he really love me? Doesn’t take guts to stay by your beloved’s side? He’d have helped me, as no one would have. He understood my world and yet it was too much even for him. Or maybe I was too much for him.

Sighs and the millions of stars twinkling their glowing eyes above her heartache, demons hidden in their caves, loneliness of rows of damp grass and cold tombstones and the chilling voice of the wind announcing a storm. Buffy wrapped herself in her leather coat, too thin for warming up her skin. I could wear a blanket around me and yet I would be freezing. He’s cold; his skin was cold but she burnt like a fireplace every time he touched her. She even burned only with a look of his eyes. He never knew it, though. She never allowed herself to show him that. Too much power on the other side of the court if she’d done that, it would have been so stupid! But was it really stupid? Another question, no answers.

And there he was, avoiding her again, as if she wouldn’t be able to notice it. _ Hi, where are you going? “Stupid”.

_ Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be far away from you as soon as you step out of my way, - Spike said with that annoying smirk of his, piercing her heart with every word.

_ I thought we...

_ We? – he’s laughing now, a low, husky, sad? laughter, - there’s no we as I recall.

_ William...

_ Don’t. Don’t you ever call me that sodding name again! - his voice had changed to a threatening one. _ You don’t deserve it. William, - he snorted, - what bloody hell do you know about him, anyway?

He passed by her quickly as if he was afraid of catching some disease. Gulping back the tears, she struggled hard to shrug off her deep feelings of helplessness.

The coldness got stronger as she walked back to her home; the icy water running through her veins sending shivers down her spine as she desperately ran the two blocks that would allow her to jump under the hot shower where she’d hide from the accusatory looks of her sister. Nibblet. He certainly knew how to eat in small bites. It’d been delightful when it was to turn her on. Now he’d chomped on her unmercifully.

Not hot cocoa for her that night. No reading, either. Maybe she’d sleep the pain off. She turned the light on at four in the morning unable to even close her eyes. One saucy smile, again please. One leer of yours. They’re gone. Vanished by her own words, by those arrogant and coward and deceitful manners of hers, cheating on her stubbornly, as usual. AS USUAL. No thinking anymore. She reached out to catch the journal again. Didn’t stop to consider that particular reading would awaken all the pain and sink the knife deeply into the wound. One hand held the book; the other clutched the chain as a life belt.

“October 26Th - So much time! No parties, no dancing. Nothing but this void in the middle of my chest. A burning and freezing void that threatens to tear me apart. I dream of him every night and I wake up shivering and crying. My hands shake and I can barely listen to someone’s words. My dear Mary came once more, a brief visit. She left so quickly! Perhaps she wasn’t able to resist too much time far away from her husband and her home. Envy choked me. I crave him, that’s the terrible and undeniable truth.”

Who on earth made her read this book? Giles, the righteous and yet ignorant Giles. Too busy with England trips and “you’re strong and you’ll manage yourself quite well”. Don’t you see I’m sinking in an abyss here? Can’t anybody see it? It’s so fucking there! It shows through me as if I’m made of crystal. Shattered crystal; only slivers covered in blood hanging from the edges of my soul. William saw it, though. But wait; don’t deserve to call him that, he said. Well, maybe. After all, I used that name when I dumped him. But yet, he’s referring to something else, I guess. William, his human name. It reminded her of a night at the Bronze when she was able to take a peek at his past life. William, who could love so deeply that he’d risk his own heart, his entire existence. A poet, a sensitive, tender and gentle soul, which was humiliated enough to be sent to hell in a rush of cruel words and burning tears. William wearing a mask of fangs and cocky attitude, hiding behind arrogant remarks and yellow eyes. Threaten the world; get rid of those who had ever looked at you in a despicable way, those who made a mockery of your sensitive and humble heart. William, loving with his entire soul, holding her hands, counting the exact days she had been gone. William beaten down and still keeping his usual big mouth shut. William beaten down by her own self-hatred and still helping her. William, always waiting for a crumb within the depths of his blue eyes. Drowning in her. Desperately.

Buffy squeezed her eyes trying to force her to sleep; the book squashed against her chest.

Thoughts ran savagely in her mind, though. She couldn’t chain them as she usually did. And they jumped like crazy puppets, like wild lions long caged, full of blood lust.

Angelus, no soul, trying with every thread of his being to get rid of her, torturing her, killing those she loved. Spike, no soul, caring and loving his girlfriend enough to form a truce with somebody he hated. Spike, no soul, opening his undead heart to be whipped and treated as a disgusting bug. Spike helping her, always there for her sister, even for her friends. Spike, no soul. William’s soul standing in a corner, chatting and watching soap operas with her mother, sipping hot cocoa with little marshmallows, enjoying the pleasure of spicy wings. He didn’t even need a chip to be changed. Sometimes, William managed to set himself free from his captor. Of course, he’d never be as he used to. Spike had ruled over him for too long. She’d seen him, experienced him, tasted him. Under a spell, two years ago. No soul, no beating heart. Deep love and wedding plans. All ruined by running after a lie. A human lie; a lie that had never been worth the try. Worth enough for her. As he was. Why don’t you try to put the pieces together again? Is his love big enough to forgive me? Icy bitchy queen, you deserve to be alone. You’ll always be alone. Cold, in the light, where he’ll never be able to reach you.

In the end it all went so wrong! Where happiness should have ruled there was only sadness and devastation. Xander left Anya at the altar! And you’re surprised? Isn’t he your friend, after all? Good for great escapes; the best of her influences, apparently. And Anya! Buffy’d never seen someone crying that much. When she thought the poor girl had gone dry, more and more tears had come down from her swollen eyes as an eternal waterfall. Empathy, she understood so well the meaning of that word at that moment! Her own heart was hanging on the edge of a cliff after seeing Spike with that freak. Jealousy wasn’t even enough to explain the whirlpool in her body. Holding another hand, dragging that “girl” out of the house. Lies, tons of them. “I’m evil. Going to my place” That, however, wasn’t a lie. Going to a wrecked place, destroyed by her hands, that bomb, yet going to crawl onto somebody else’s body. His hands touching and discovering hidden secrets; his eyes sinking into dark ones, not green, not hers, somebody else’s eyes. His scent for other nostrils to be filled with, floating on somebody else’s skin. Wet mouth and wise tongue and incredible lips. Moving on; he’d done that and she couldn’t but hate him with all her heart. Then, why had she had that urgent need of running after him to be soothed by tender caresses and gentle, wise whispers? He’d know how to erase the agony, that pain she was sharing with that weeping demon. A pain that was impossible to bear anymore. She ran away, this time to the nearer cemetery, a place to hide, to be alone. Against a tombstone, its cold marble as cold as her heart, as her flesh, as her entire existence.

The only light in the dark place was that of the cigarette every time he took a drag.

Green. From all the colours of the whole galaxy, she had to wear green. Night was going to be long. There was a time in which it didn’t hurt to be awake. Now, it killed him.

He should have killed her a long time ago. It wasn’t that he had never tried. It wasn’t that he had become an incompetent blighter. He wasn’t a failure, either. He’d just never tried his best; it was as if he had always done things at half speed when she was around. It was since that remote night at the Bronze, the very first time he saw her. She was dancing; her body waved in a sensual way, her arms stretched upon her head, hypnotising him, pulling him into a nightmare, into an abomination, into something he’d sworn to himself would never happen again. But it did. The same pain, the same emptiness after her death. That void that couldn’t be filled by rage or wrath, damn cripple as he was now.

What were the words his mother had told him? His demon mother, actually. “A limp, sentimental fool. It’s who you’ll always be. “ Damn right she was. Had he staked her for all the other nasty and painful things she’d said or only for that particular one? He’d been that way since... forever. A weak, responsible, pathetic human who couldn’t even see the unkindness, the meanness, the cruelty hidden inside those who surrounded him. Till it was too much. Turn it into a demon. Then unleash it. Make them pay. Do you like railroad spikes? Here you’ve got one. What? Does it hurt? Better. And by the way, how does it feel? Being hurt, being hurt so badly that you can’t bear your own skin on your own body. It’s a pity there’s no one around to see YOUR humiliation, isn’t it? Writing awful poetry with your bloody brains, that’s it. Till there weren’t any brains left, till rejection threatened him again. Wasn’t she supposed to love HIM? Not Daddy. Only him. Her child.

William the “limp, sentimental fool” Bloody, running away from those who were supposed to be his family only to find grace and heaven. Heaven. He’d lost it twice, no, three times.

_ I need another sodding bottle. The strongest bloody thing I can find. Shitloads of alcohol running through my dead veins. Bugger! – he cried out as he stumbled into a pile of debris. Thank her for that too. She and that dozy ponce of ex boyfriend she had. Not even a telly to get rid of the thoughts. _ Here! No, what’s this? And why the hell don’t you use your eyes, wanker? – he shouted at himself, angrily. A radio. Dawn had given it to him when his big mouth had said something about his missing TV. A little bit of music wouldn’t hurt, I guess. Nor old Jack D., he muttered taking a long draught as he turned the radio on.

_ A bunch of crap, that’s it, - he turned the dial to and fro trying to find something.

_ ... an old song. You’ll enjoy it. I bet you do, - the voice was full of enthusiasm.

_ Yeah, mate. Old stuff can’t be bad.

“In the night, in the darkness, love can grow and love would die.

Such a strange situation, I thought I heard somebody cry.”

_ Well, that won’t be me, - another draft.

“I found love, inspiration, we’d time, so much to share.

And she wasn’t there”

Draft. Snort. Draft.

“There’s a voice in the night, crying in the night,

Can’t you hear it? Can’t you hear?”

_ Nope. I’ve shut the voices off long time ago.

“So much pain, persecution, disillusion and despair.

I think I need someone to care.”

Fingers pricking the arm of the green chair and the bottle trembling in an unsteady hand.

“All my dreams are gone forever,

Can’t you hear it? Can’t you hear?”

A smoke. I need a drag. And another draught. Longer this time.

“You tell yourself don’t be lonely, don’t be scared

All those voices in the night.”

Bloody woman and bloody radio. Those voices. Only one that I wasn’t able to hear. Only one I’d given my sodding immortality to hear. Are bottles smaller nowadays? Probably she’s dancing and smiling now. Radioactive. Green, for Christ’s sake! She should pay, for dragging him into a forbidden thing. For breaking a promise to that distant voice he couldn’t save.

“A time will come when you’re lonely,

And you’ll be just another voice in the night”.

_ Of course she’ll be lonely. As bleeding hell. And you’re a frigging Nancy! Useless tears and useless strength.

He rose from the armchair staring at the ceiling with wide wet eyes.

_Why did you have to leave me? Why didn’t you scream instead of crying? WHY?

The bottle smashed against the radio with a shrieking noise.

_Why haven’t you come for me after all this time? After all I’ve done? For you, I was looking for you. This is punishment, right?

Sobs, deep and powerful.

_ I deserve it. Don’t you think I deserve it? BITCH! You...and...and...her.

The radio died against the floor.

_ Sorry, sorry, sorry! I loved you so much. “Despair, disillusion”, - he sang in a hoarse tone. _ “everything will be all right”. BUT IT ISN’T! I love her. And look at me now. Look at me...

He collapsed into the hard floor still clutching his cold fingers around the neck of the bottle.

She’s going to catch a cold. She’s pretty sure about it. All night outside, under the rain, and the whole day checking addresses and that awful demon that had dared to... prick me? It pricked me with a needle or something. After a hot shower and a coffee she crawled on her bed, picking up the journal from the bedside table. Why can’t I get tired of this story? It only makes me feel all weepy and gloomy. Curiosity, a terrible thing.

“November 6th. – Oh, help me, help me, help me! I almost did it! I surprised him at Carboy’s Alley. He froze at my sight and I took advantage of it, ready to do what I had to. But I’ve been so clumsy lately that I stumbled and we both fell to the ground. He was under me and it would have been so easy to vanish him forever! My traitorous mind couldn’t think of anything but the shape of his body pressed against mine, his powerful chest, his taut stomach. His eyes locked with mine and his tongue licked his lips and I couldn’t help but jump to my feet and run away as if every single demon from hell were chasing me across the streets of London. And here I am now, crying and my chest is burning, my whole body is burning and I can’t stop from shaking. Having him like that, so close even in that awful situation. His scent. His scent is an intoxicating poison, which was made to muddle creatures up. His long thighs, his arms, those eyes! He’s driving me mad and I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to continue with this. I think one night I’m going to explode. He knows it well and, certainly, that’s what he’s looking for.”

I feel so dizzy now. Empathy again? No, no. Bet I’ve got a fever. And a terrible headache, which probably would boil my brains for good. Better go downstairs and take two aspirins and maybe something to eat, as well.

Willow was there, talking and being nice as usual and all she could do was stare at her as an oaf with a drooling opened mouth. Suddenly Willow was gone and she was somewhere else. A house, a party where everybody around seemed to walk slowly only to flaunt their diamonds and their expensive clothes. Strange clothes, though. Long dresses, silk and velvet and laces, and gold. Odd.

There she was again sitting on the couch of her own living room while her friends looked at each other in awesome silence. All of a sudden she was in her room (that really looked like her bed) and yet she was sitting in a chair, between a plant and a little table, holding a glass of...wine (it smelt like it) and a man was there, his eyes hidden behind stupid glasses and this girl... She knew this girl. She was a demon. No, she couldn’t be. They were talking and his face was gleaming with ecstasy and next she was turning around, her lips a thin line of disgust and his face had turned into grey and tears, tears...

_ Don’t cry, Buffy, - Willow held her hand, trying to comfort her with slow whispers. _ Everything will be all right, you’ll see. We’ll find the demon. The antidote is...

_ It’s too strong..., the demon I mean.

_ Xander’s gone for help, don’t worry.

Two hands, big hands, shaking him unmercifully. His swollen eyes, his heavy head refused to wake. Why in hell couldn’t he die peacefully? Xander? The big whelp? Wasn’t he supposed to be all rolling and shagging in a posh and DISTANT place? Probably he’d taken Anya for a honeymoon at Sunnyhell motel. Jerk.

_ What happened here? Something did a good job with this place. And with you, by the way. Ok, I need your help now. So you better get to your feet and... You’re drunk!

A wild, hoarse laughter escaped from Spike’s dry throat. _You’re such a smart-ass sometimes. What do you want? What happened? Anya doesn’t like married orgasms now? Where are my fags?

_ Buffy was attacked by a demon. Willow thinks...

Spike sniggered at him and lit a bent cigarette_ Buffy was attacked by a demon, - he repeated landing on his chair. _ Why should I care?

Xander looked at him with killing eyes. He shouldn’t have come. _ I need your muscles. That’s all.

_Well, that’s straightforward. Nothing that I like more. Unless it comes from you and... I won’t help. Know what? Why don’t you ask the bloody soldier to help you? Yeah, I reckon you really like his human little ass. Sod off now. I need to sleep.

_ What part didn’t you understand? – Xander grabbed his arm, losing his patience, - BUFFY needs your help!

_ No, she doesn’t. She’s never needed it. Besides, I’m an evil thing, - his blue eyes scowled at Xander, - so...

_ Look, if I didn’t need you I wouldn’t be here. Do you want me to beg you? ‘Cause if that’s what it takes... and as far as I...

_Yeah, you’ll do everything for her, don’t you, pathetic wanker? Even grovel. Really makes me feel sorry for you.

Why was he wandering in the woods after all he’d said? The little and distant voice in the night had made me? It’s been some time ago. Why are you haunting me now? ‘Cause this love? Why would you care? Would you like me to kill her instead? Did you like it when I did it? I did it twice. I could have done it three times but no. I had to fall to my knees again. It was different now. Nothing is the same no matter what. It hurts, you know. You were so brave. Why can’t she see it? Why can’t she give me a chance the way you did?

A green dress and long black hair. Who was she? The hall was fully crowded but in spite of that she was able to see him standing in a dark corner. Honey hair and blue eyes but no face as if he were made only of hair and eyes that floated in the air, shinning bright under the lamps. His hands holding her waist tightly, his breath and his lips fondling her neck and a sharp pain as fangs pierced her skin and a loud shout came through her mouth as her sister cleaned her sweating forehead with a wet cloth. He was going to help. Was he really? Willow handing her a mug filled with a dark liquid and Spike standing in the threshold, all dressed in black as usual but his hair was different, his voice... He was saying something and his BLUE eyes flared with something that looked like rage and sadness but she couldn’t reply. Her tongue, her lips were as numb as her arms when all she wanted to do was to reach out and touch him, hug him and not let him leave. Why had all of them brought her back to this living hell? There was no such thing as happiness here. Even Spike was far away. “Every night I save you” Save me now. I’m choking here, I’m drowning, remember how that is? She’d pushed him aside and there’s no right for her to protest in any way. She couldn’t stand herself. She couldn’t stand the rest of them. They should pay for sticking their nasty fingers in her life, well death, again.

Startling how you can get all evil, trying to kill everybody and they understand and forgive no matter what. Buffy pushed the red plastic ashtray across the counter, smiling at the fat couple with a plaster face. Why can’t I do that? Forget he’s evil, forget or forgive. “Give, forgive, you’re full of love”. A dancing, primal Slayer had said that to her across hot flames. Forgive..., who? Maybe him or myself. He had forgiven her so many times. He’d given her chance after chance, looking at her through bruised eyes, through loving eyes, holding back his own needs, jumping into that violent whirlpool of sex SHE had proposed in an abandoned building. Shock was etched in his face, shock and love, and need. They’d stumbled and fallen and yet his arms were still holding her, all his self wrapped around her, buried inside her. Won’t leave you, won’t leave you. If this is what it takes..., if this is what you want. But I want something else, though. I know you can be different. I can be different.

_ Dawn, I’m home, - she shouted from the hall as every night she came back, terrified to find him there.

_ Ah, well. Come on in then. There’s no need for you to stay at the door. Coward.

That girl never stopped from amazing her. It might be her past self as an energy ball or something. Reading minds should never be a bonus track in any sister. Buffy followed her to the kitchen, shuffling her feet. Dawn’s head pointed at the two slices of pizza that remained untouched on a plate.

_ I’m not really hungry. I think I’m going to...

_ You never eat these days. You live on coffee, - she leaned her cheek on her open palm staring at Buffy with squinted eyes. _ Sometimes I so want to slap you.

Buffy fidgeted in her seat, stumped for a while. Well, that was certainly a twist in her sister’s relationship.

_ Look at you, all miserable and brooding around. Remind me of Angel, yew! , - Dawn grimaced at the sudden sound of his name. Buffy had almost forgotten her sister’s rejection towards that particular vampire, mainly because she seemed all loving and tender when it came to another bleached one. _ Why don’t you just accept it? You could be happy. Well, HE could be happy and that would be a hell of a difference, you know. I want him back the way he was.

_ The way he was? What are you talking about? I don’t need...

_ Oh! - Dawn’s hands hit the table, making Buffy jump. _ You can be so annoying sometimes. Just like him, drunk all the time when all I want is him to take me to the cinema as he used to.

_ He took you to the cinema? – she couldn’t do anything but stutter with a little bit of envy and a huge amount of surprise.

_ Well, yeah. Now you’re going to rush to his crypt and stake him for that? Buffy, you weren’t here for three months and he took care of me all the time. It wasn’t that I really needed him to do it, you know. But I let him just ‘cause I knew what it meant to him.

She was not going to ask. She didn’t want to know. She took a deep breath, unable to take her eyes from her fingers crushed against the wooden surface. They would have been at her ears instead. She tried to swallow but her throat was sore, as she’d eaten dozens of thorns.

Had she come back from the dead just to be lectured like a little girl about the marvellous paths of love? Even her little sister knew more of them than she ever did? Apparently. God, it hurt. She had to get out of that kitchen, away from the next words that would spring from her sister’s mouth. Get out to the safety of her own room, if only she could feel her legs, her rubber legs now, and didn’t feel a revolted stomach, which she assumed it had to do with the floating smell of pizza, laying beside her as crisps of dry, old blood.

_ Buffy, he LOVES you. He really does. God! I’ve seen him crying! I’ve seen him missing you as an orphan child missing the warmth of a loving mother.

Since when had her sister become a poet? William was a poet. Everybody said he was awful, though. History records and all that.

_ He’s..., - she cleared her throat a few times before being able to speak, - he’s evil. I can’t trust him enough to...

Dawn chuckled sadly. _ You can’t trust him? Buffy, you had trusted him with our lives! My life, mom’s life. Did you forget all the times you left us at his crypt for him to look after us? Well, I certainly don’t. Having to bear them watching Passions? That’s a thing I’ll never forget!

Buffy couldn’t help a little smile. Was it only for her mother’s memory? She doubted it. Giles had mentioned that same fact. Awesome how things and words came over and over again just to tease her not-to-steady heartbeat.

_ I’m tired and I really don’t want to talk about him. It hurts, Dawnie, - she managed to get down from the stool. Retire. Hide. You can’t hide from yourself, you know? Don’t matter how hard you try to run.

_ Do you want to be miserable as Xander is, just ‘cause you don’t have the guts to be happy? - her sister’s fingers were a searing iron pressed on her wrist. _ Give him a chance, Buffy. You’d be surprised, believe me, - she stated before stepping aside, grabbing the bag she had left under the chair.

_ Where are you going?

Was she leaving her alone after all she had said? That’s really amazing. Cut somebody’s heart with hot scissors and let it rot in the desert for beasts to feed on it.

_ I’m sleeping over at Janice’s. I told you this morning.

Yeah, sure. Why not? She’s going to stay awake all night, sinking in her own unbearable thoughts, digging in her misery, burying her in it. Or maybe she would sink into another’s misery, a former Slayer’s misery. That would be better. If the pain belonged to somebody else, she could stand it better.

“November 9th – Trapped against a wall and yet free at last! How could I ever think I’d be able to live without him! He’s meant to be. To awake me, to set me free. He’s the key and if for my freedom I have to be doomed, then I will be!”

Buffy rubbed her eyes. The silence in the house was intolerable. Maybe she could turn the TV on. No, that’d lead her mind to him. Wasn’t that really pathetic? Every single and dull thing reminded her of him. How can that be? Oh, God. She had been trapped against a wall! No, he had been. By her. As much as she had tried to deny it the following day, she had wanted him to be like that for all the days to come. He could be so tender when she dropped the violence for a while. In those moments she had been so exhausted to stop him. His hands knew how to touch her, slow and gentle, as they followed every curve, every side of her body. His breath blowing on her stomach, kissing her skin, melting her down. She didn’t want his tenderness. It hurt as if her chest were going to crack like a nutshell, spreading all sorts of conflicting emotions - pain, joy, weakness, fear, love and hate. His voice whispering his love, her voice screaming nasty stuff, erasing all the good things he wanted to say. Why couldn’t she just give in to his embrace? It takes guts...Oh, yeah, tons of them and she was too weak, too frightened to let somebody, whoever he might be, have a tiny bit of power over her heart. It’d be so easy to be broken into pieces. Love had never been a garden of joy. Who could guarantee her it would be different now? His words, his simple and overwhelming words? What really scares you is the chance to deal with an equal, with someone who understands what you are, who you are, and accepts it without running away.

Spike squeezed the packet of cigarettes in one hand, grabbing the bottle of beer. How many on the beer count? Lost it, mate. No band was playing that night at the Bronze; instead a bunch of ballads sounded one after the other, as nails hammered into everybody’s hearts. Or, perhaps, only into his heart. Dead as it was it hurt like hell. What had he sung to her that horrible and shameful day? “If my heart could beat it would break my chest”. Hope it did. I would be a pile of dust and bye, bye agony. Welcome whatever it is out there. Hell, just like here, mate. Why the bloody hell do you think you are still around? You’d had a lot of chances to get rid of yourself. Remember Paris, remember that awful night in Bucharest?

Here you are still, no matter how lost and miserable you felt at that time.

There was a couple snogging in a couch beside his. He turned round his face. The girl that was leaning against the rail of the balcony gave him a huge smile. He sighed and took a long draught. Some solace wouldn’t be bad.

_ Well, finally! , - Xander crashed onto the couch next to him, Willow standing near with a particular look in her eyes.

The girl frowned at the unexpected company and went away. Damn it! You weren’t going to do anything, anyway, you poof!

_What are you doing here? Can’t I be alone? Bugger! Every time I turn round you... I’m not going to help, no matter what.

Xander’s hand waved at Willow’s face demanding something. She pulled something out from her bag, a black plastic squared thing. _ What’s this? - Xander demanded in a loud, scraping voice. Man, why didn’t you get married? Anya’d have certainly known how to ease that anxiety. _ I mean, I know what this is but...

_ You’re a complete jerk, aren’t you? What is this? I know what this is, - Spike echoed scornfully, - Tell you what. Come back when you got a bloody noggin, nit.

_ It’s a camera we found outside Buffy’s house and we wondered if you..., - Willow explained before he had the chance to walk away.

_ If I what? - his hand was so tight around the bottle that he’d have probably been able to read the label if it had been written in Braille. He’s so tired of all that stuff. He wasn’t the only evil creature around. Flipping hell, he could even see the pair of vampires dancing under the spots as if they’re alone in the universe. Not to mention the demon girl that was making a pass to the shy boy who was sitting in the furthest dark corner, in that precise moment.

_ If you knew something about this? – Willow asked in a weak voice.

_ Oh, come on! – Xander rose to his feet, his face so near that Spike could smell the burger he’d had for dinner. _Just tell us what you’re up to! Isn’t your obsession enough proof? I really...

Spike didn’t remember the chip, the searing and blinding pain that would severe his brains in two halves of pounding, green flashes. His fist hit Xander’s jaw with full strength, sending him to the floor. _ I... don’t...know..., - the bottle crashed with a loud sound that pierced his ears as thin, heated needles; blood seeping from his nose as he fell to his knees. Willow reached out to hold him. She’d never believed in Xander’s theory in the first place. Of course Spike wasn’t a trustful guy but when it came to matters dealing with Buffy, well, she knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. She had seen him; in fact, she had talked about it with Tara in those long nights after Buffy’s death. It was painful to watch him gazing at the TV, lost somewhere within his deep thoughts. It was so clear in his eyes, in the way he spoiled Dawn even though all their recommendations were against it. Xander never knew Spike left a flower every night at Buffy’s grave before taking care of Dawn. They’d seen him one night after college and Willow couldn’t help the tears and a certain feeling of pity for that weird creature.

_ I’m sorry. You know I am. Please, forgive us - she really wanted him to accept the apology. Her heart sank at the sight of his wet yellow eyes. There was so much loss there, so much pain. A pain that had nothing to do with that chip in his head, an agony that might have killed better than his fangs.

He nodded and with a grunting sob he managed to rise to his feet again, leaving them behind, half-walking, half-running. He needed desperately to find something to ease that sizzling spark in the middle of his chest. He thought he was going to puke as beer ran hastily to his throat only to recede backwards to his belly like a tidal wave. Get rid of this scorching feeling that’s slashing my ribs as electric wires.

Magic would work; tons of it. There they were, Anya and a friend of hers, talking, in fact whispering to each other, glazing at him with hawked eyes while he leaned on the counter, his legs of not much help after that punch. Remember kittens? The nails of your claws’re all broken and splintered, mate, and they’ve flown in the air as bloody darts, straight to your heart. He knew exactly how a pincushion would feel, sore and pricked, full of holes from where the last threads of hope would seep like burning pus. In moments like those he certainly knew what it meant to be world-weary. And that friend, wasn’t she the demon that had played with them at Buffy’s birthday? He hadn’t placed her that night, which wasn’t pretty surprising, actually. Her features weren’t what you could keep in your mind for the rest of your life. Now, she was looking at him, a half-hiding smile waving on her lips, a little arrogance in her look as he squinted his eyes, digging in his tired brain. Flashing under the gas lamps were diamonds and silk and a haughty attitude and his guts twisting in anguish as the words slammed against his cheeks as heavy blows. “You’re beneath me”. Oh, my God, wasn’t it hilarious? He could see in front of his eyes the trail of skewered heads he had left behind his path as milestones, which would always be there as a reminder of the innocence she had squashed with those words that night. What exactly was he doing there, anyway? Looking for a spell to make feelings stop, delivered by rejected ex demon one, and wrapped by “I’m the queen of rejection” and current demon two? He’s truly pathetic. He was about to leave when Anya stopped him, a smile curving her lips, a bottle of scotch dancing in her hand, Cecily making the best exit of her life and him only clenching his fists and jaws just not to follow her and rip her head off or maybe spike her brains with anything he could have at hand.

_ I can’t..., - he sputtered, - can’t stay or drink a bloody thing more tonight.

Suddenly he was sitting on a bench, sipping from a glass. He was really trying to listen to Anya’s words but images and phrases were flailing wildly in his mind. Next, she was so near that her face was a blurring spot and, did she really want what he thought? Why not then? “The end of this freak show”. The end of the whole self-pitying show. If I let her do it, if I actually give her... Don’t give a damn, mate, she’s as lonely as you are and you HAVE to move on. Console, remember consolation? And despair, disillusion, someone to care, his mind sang out of tune. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change roads, or, if it was, at least late was better than never. Or what is your next step, Big Bad? Get yourself so drunk and passed out that you’ll lie under an open sky? Not only a burning hand after that, I tell you. A whole smoking, flaring body. World-weary, yeah.

Anya’s lips were wet and salty with tears and her hands were moving on his shoulders. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to his lap. His hands were just about to slip under her red sweater when the slight clinging sound of the chain around his neck hitting the buttons of his shirt made him jump to his feet, stepping backwards, crashing against the shelves behind him, sending all sorts of things to the floor. Among the books and the pieces of broken china he could see a black, plastic object. Well, well, well, I wondered what the soddin’ whelp would think of THAT?

_Speaking of the devil, - he almost choked with a loud laughter as the entrance door smashed against the wall with a sharp sound. The sight of HER froze him half way.

_ What are you doing here? – Buffy asked rudely.

Spike just ignored her, turning to Xander instead, pointing at the camera lying on the floor. _ So, mate, what now?

It was really amazing how calm he felt. No guilty stuff bulging at his temples to make him fidget. After all, they were the monsters there, weren’t they? All right and human, all uptight and repressed. A perfect pair of bloody liars. “What are you doing here?” I was just going to shag. What do YOU think about THAT, baby?

Buffy was shocked. He had ignored her as if she’d gone invisible again. To make matters worse, there’s something in the air that was making her feel dizzy as if she had been all day riding on a swirling roller coaster. There’s something in Anya’s eyes. She looked bewildered. Her eyes went from the floor to the camera, from Spike’s face to her hands, from Buffy’s face to his mouth. She never looked at Xander, though. Screaming doubts oozed like thick mud from Buffy’s chilling chest.

Out of the corner of his eye Spike noticed the suspicious thoughts sailing in her green eyes. Oh, my God, she knows! What the hell? It’s not that I’m betraying something sacred here. She LEFT me, ditched me as a useless dirty pair of stinking panties. Never forget that, mate. So why in hell do I want to hug her? Why in bloody hell do I want to erase the pain in her eyes? Sod off now to your cold and dark and safe hole, duffer. As I told you before, there’s nothing here for you, anyway.

It had been such a perfect exit. He never counted she was going to run after him, grabbing him by the sleeve of his coat.

_ What the soddin’ hell do you want now?

Having her that near made his entire body ache. He didn’t turn round though. As long as he could keep on gazing in the distance everything would be ok. But her warm body, the softness of her skin... He shut the thoughts out with a desperate coldness. He had no idea if it was his imagination but her voice was slow and trembled as leaves waving under a heavy rain.

_ You weren’t with Anya, were you? I mean, you two...,- her stomach was sickened by the mere idea. She swallowed the tears, the scorching knot in her throat. _ You weren’t.

Spike closed his eyes so tight that when he opened them again little black dots danced in front of them as crazy dwarves in a freaking circus. _ What do you care?

He merely whispered as if he had blown a feather in the air to see it flicker. Take out “what” in that question, love, and just let your heart answer me, he begged silently. “Can’t you hear what I’m trying to say?”

The smell of tears falling down slowly made him whirl around. Not the sound, no, the smell. He held her so tightly that he thought that their bodies were going to merge into a new shape. Buffy leaned against him for a while, breathing heavily. His scent was powerful, a strange mixture of leather, cigarettes, alcohol and... manhood. Was she ever going to forget that scent? Her entire body had ached for it, for him, for his arms. His perfect, long, strong arms. His hands were moving now, slowly, up and down her spine, up and down with an hypnotic rhythm. She was so frightened. Terrified, actually. But I want this. Oh, my God, I WANT THIS, her mind sobbed painfully. Her heartbeat was a drum, stroking against her ribs like wild thunders. His lips were now on the top of her head and he was whispering in a hoarse, deep voice. The floodgates of her pent-up emotions were crumbling away. Soon, she was going to be so naked that he was going to be able to look at her even under her skin. She pushed him aside and ran away so fast that it seemed that she’d sprouted wings. For a sick moment she was sure she was going to faint as black flashes pulsed in front of her eyes, the air too cold in her mouth, freezing her lungs.

A hot shower, a cold one and after that a hot one again. Or a Valium, or why not the whole drugstore? I need to stop this; I’m going to die. Again.

_What happened? Please, tell me what happened! - Dawn opened the door hastily when she heard the profound sobs at the porch.

_ I’m a monster! I’m... - Buffy fell to her knees just in the threshold _ I..., - the words jammed in her throat and she couldn’t spit them out. They were choking her.

_ You met him, you ran away and it’s killing you, - Dawn looked at her from above as a cold distant tower looks onto an ocean. She finally kneeled down to help her sister. _ You love him, don’t you? That’s what takes the shit out of you, isn’t it? “How could I? The mighty queen of everything that’s right”, - her voice was hard and sharp like knives, - Damn it! I’m sorry. Come, you’re going to have a bath, a long one, and maybe I’ll bring you a nice cup of cocoa

_ NO! No, please..., - Buffy tried to get rid of the helping hands.

_ Don’t be stupid! - Dawn took her by the waist, helping her to climb the steps as she had become a crippled idiot. _ There’s not going to be any kind of cookies involved, I promise.

_ When did you grow up? – she never knew how she managed to chuckle.

_ Since I spent a whole year talking to someone who treated me as a human being. I’m sorry for that but...it’s true, you know, - she kicked the door of the bathroom open.

_ Did he really take you to the cinema? – she tossed her clothes off, wrapping in a green robe while her sister opened the taps. The sound of running water was incredibly soothing.

_ Yeah, a couple of times. No violence. Only stupid stuff, mostly romantic stuff, actually. He likes it, no matter what he says about it, so it wasn’t that I was torturing him or anything. Most of the time we stayed here, playing cards or watching the television. Kind of stuff that didn’t need too much of a conversation, you know. He wasn’t particularly chatty in those days, which was a little scary. I mean, you know him... Well, there it is. Hot and steamy and relaxing and scented and... I’ll get the cocoa.

Buffy slipped into the water with a deep sigh. Every sinew in her body cried out in pain, not to mention her soul. She didn’t stay long, though, afraid of being forced to answer to her sister’s words. “You love him, don’t you?” Fifteen minutes later she was sipping from the mug and looking at her sister, who was sitting at the corner of her bed, with an obvious intention: the final and big chat.

_ What’s this? – Dawn lifted the thick book in her hands.

_ A journal. It belonged to a Slayer back in the 19th century.

_ Old stuff, ah? Have you read it?

_ Actually I’m just in the middle of it. It’s quite... ,- she hesitated a little. Interesting wasn’t an appropriate word to describe it and yet it was rather suitable. What about heart breaking, or painful, or.... _ Awakening. I mean, it seems she was involved in a certain relationship that wasn’t exactly the normal stuff for... No, wait. It’s pretty normal stuff. What’s that? – she jumped at the sound of the door downstairs.

_ Willow probably. And Tara, - she giggled, cupping her mouth with her hand as if she had told a big secret not to be known by anybody. _ See, they allow themselves to feel. You should do it too. Ok, ok, too much for tonight, isn’t it? I better go to bed. School and everything.

_ Thank you, Dawnie. I’m better now. I am, really, - she gave her sister a hard hug.

Of course that was another of your huge lies, wasn’t it, great pretender? Now jump into that book of yours and learn something about courage. You’ll need it if you want to keep on going with the big charade.

Pacing, fists against walls, cigarettes and choking draughts were his way of living those days. Well, un-living. Why don’t you just leave? Get the hell out of here. Go where, exactly? Look for Dru, the burnt bitch, maybe? Or why not big poof? Why did he always have to look for somebody, anyway? Be ALONE!

He lit a cigarette, lying on the sarcophagus now that the bed was gone, staring blindly at the ceiling. Immortality meant loneliness? She should have told me that and I’d have declined the offer. Effulgent my ass. Only a dim light in a damp, sordid corridor, crowded by rats that nibbled at his ankles. He certainly should be hired by a zoo or a circus. Come and see the utter freak, former creature of darkness, now toothless, brainless, worthless.

Two days had passed from that sobbing show in the street and there he was, sometimes with a hell of a hangover, sometimes completely passed-out, others awake as if somebody had glued his eyelids and set them open forever. He hadn’t even taken a bath. I stink, really. Wasn’t it supposed to be that way, though? You’re dead, mate. Dead meat usually stinks.

Leaving was an option? Well, maybe the better one. It wasn’t that he had a profound, long, loving relationship here. Only plain, tough, rough sex no matter how he’d tried to turn it into a mockery of love. A good ending for a bluff, for lies. It’d been ages since he’d made love actually. Dru... she had her own twisted ideas about it, mad as a hatter as she was. In fact, more than a hatter. Old Daddy’s teachings. He had only caught up with her. Before that he’d experienced bliss. Mine, yours and soft, wet, smooth skin. Greenish eyes sparkling with desire and long black hair slipping among his fingers like shinning threads of a midnight sea. Sliding inside her had always been a blessing. Every thrust had pushed him nearer to Heaven. Even when they got wild, heaven had always been the final stop. Sleeping curled up against her hot, sweated body, snug against it as a kitten looking for its mother’s warmth; that’d been Heaven as well. So close, so near, so complete.

Buffy had never allowed him to hold her, it was as if she was afraid that her skin would flake at his touch. Or maybe that closeness would make her accept something about feelings. What feelings, mate? She had bloody USED you and you’re still trying to swallow that hard pill. Why don’t you just LEAVE?

After a long bath. That could only be performed at Clem’s house, den, actually. And I’m not quite in the mood to bear him now. Giles’ house was empty. He’d break into it, fill the tub and... She chained you there, she laughed at you there. What the hell? It’d been a habit after all and right now he needed desperately to erase her scent from his skin. I’ve dealt with worse stuff in the old days. You know, blood and more blood and more and more...

“November 30th – I’ve become such an indecent person! Fifteen days after that rose, after that poem and no signs of him, which made me sulk along the house or hide in my bedroom unable to listen to Stephen’s chat. But tonight! I don’t think I’ll be brave enough to write this down. I’ll try though, because I want to read it and read it till my very last day. I ran into him at Gaunt St. and I did what all my years of training forced me to do. I jumped at him but it was a lie, you see. A perfect excuse for what I really wanted. A fight meant having his hands on me, feeling his touch. Rough I know, a little bit twisted, maybe but... He’s such an extraordinary fighter! A big cat moving with infinite grace and so fast! That first night I met him, he’d reminded me of a poem. It’s Blake’s, The Tiger. “Tiger, tiger, burning bright in the forests of the night”. I remembered it while I was trying to stake him or at least threatening him to do so. He slammed me against the wall so hard that air escaped from my lungs in a long, searing rush. He pinned down my hands, snarling loudly, his fangs shinning brightly under the street lamp. His face came near, blurring in front of my eyes, till I finally felt his long teeth nuzzling the skin on my throat. And then I whispered it, straight in his ear and I couldn’t believe I’d said such a thing. He froze against me; I really could feel his body stiffen. He looked at me for a strange and long minute before kissing me. It was rough and wild and bruising and even though I wouldn’t have changed it for anything sweeter. I can still feel his tongue ploughing into my mouth, his hands on my breasts. I wanted him so badly! As I’ve never wanted anything else in my life. I want him now. I know I should be punished for this and maybe I will be. But I don’t care. I don’t and if he hadn’t stopped (I really don’t know why, actually, but he stopped and ran away with such a fearful look in those beautiful eyes) I would have gone till the end of it. I crave him and it’ll be that way till the day I die.”

Buffy’s eyes were so wide opened that she felt them stirring her face as if she was slowly turning into stone. What did you whisper to him? What? The pages ran into her cold fingers as windmills. Words blurred and waved, happy, happy, happy, proposed, love, married? MARRIED! A married Slayer? MARRIED TO A VAMPIRE! How unthinkable, unbelievable, outrageous was that? And happiness! She’d been HAPPY! HE had made her happy! Her fingers reached the chain in her neck, her eyes staring at the gold ring hanging from it. A wedding ring.

Why the fuck did Giles give me this? He knew! What does he want? Do I fit somewhere? Why everybody can be touched by happiness? Because they dare to jump at it. Because they dare to jump into it. Because they just allowed themselves to FEEL. She put on her clothes, rushed downstairs and flew along the streets, without even noticing she was holding the book against her chest as a shield made of paper and words. All she had in mind was shouting at Giles’ face till she went completely mute.

The place was as silent as a graveyard. Facing the door she tried to control her breath and she burst into hysterical laughter. Can I get more stupid here? Giles is gone! Can’t you remember a fucking thing these days? So what’s that light? Burglars, sent to her so she’d be released from that twisting ache in her guts.

The door was opened. Nobody seemed to be around. Nothing out of place; only the dim light of the lamp next to the couch. Buffy left the book on the table and went upstairs, sneaking as if she had become one of the shadows of the house. There’s nobody here, either. A slight sound came from the living room and she ran downstairs only to become a marble statue at the view. Spike was standing beside the table, barefoot and shirtless, his unbuckled and unzipped black jeans barely hanging round his hips. One of his hands was on the lid of the book and he was so hypnotised by the sight of it that he didn’t pay attention to the footsteps coming down the stairs. Buffy took notice of the drops that shed from his wet, mussed hair. They were like black tears in the half-lit room. Finally he raised his eyes. Confusion and suffering mixed with a gigantic quantity of surprise.

_ Where..., - he spoke so softly that it seemed he was blowing or maybe taking small breaths, - where..., how..., Giles got...this?

Buffy didn’t want to reply. A terrible and shocking sensation beat at every muscle in her body and it had nothing to do with running thirty blocks as a hurricane.

_You’ve had a bath, - it was the silliest thing she’d ever said in her life but it worked, as she released her throat from words just to make more room for air. She never knew how he managed to smell so good all the time when all the vamps she killed smelt like trash and rotten rats. It had always wondered her, that thing. His scent, powerful and manly, enough to disturb her in so many ways. Disturbed as she was now at the mere sight of him standing there, quiet and almost a marble statue. Motionless. He looked so harmless, wet and...innocent.

_I’ve got no shower at my place.

Wasn’t that stupid? Standing half-naked in front of her very eyes, listening to every nerve in her body crackling like logs in a fireplace and yet, unable to make a move. He’s terrified of even trembling. His eyes forgot the book and followed the patterns of light and shadow on her face, on her coat, that yellow one she was wearing that night... The night she left you. Her heavy breathing was a rasping sound that cut his flesh into pieces but it was still a blessing. Silence would have been oppressive as the walls of a damp dungeon. Her hands moved and clenched on some chain that hanged from her neck. Her little hands, so wise, so warm... I want you. I want you so much! If only..., if only we could do it all over again, would you give me a chance? Words, things she’d said to him rattled in his brain. “Like you’re God’s gift”. Yes, of course, but the question was; how many times do you get a God’s gift? Twice? He looked down at his shaking hands and bit his lower lip, feeling dry and empty as never before. Empty of words, which was a landmark in his entire existence.

Buffy’s eyes went from the book to his face and then to his hands. The silence was so complete and overwhelming that she just wanted to scream. He looked beaten to his knees; no Spike’s old spirit flowing around. Was it too late then? He’d given up and she was too weak to bring him back to her. “You’d be surprised, believe me”. Oh, God, help me here.

Her eyes went once more to his fingers, his clever long fingers, sailed across his flat, taut stomach and reached his mouth. She took a step forward and froze when he raised his head vigorously.

_ You don’t need to get narky, you know? I was just... I’m leaving, - he’d made his mind up just in that moment. He couldn’t bear one more minute near her warm body, near her scent.

It was all around him; everywhere he went he could smell it no matter how he’d tried not to. She seemed to float along the whole city so leaving had become an option after all.

_ No, - she gasped or maybe groaned as tears filled her eyes and he became only a pale and shapeless figure beside the table. The ring she was holding burnt her palm like a scorching poker. Please, give me a chance. Teach me how to love, how to be brave. Suddenly something in the depths of his blue eyes made her realise the true meaning of his words. Leaving..., leaving town, leaving her. Giving up, too tired to keep on trying, too tired of trying to melt down a heart that was made of solid stone. A harsh laughter was bubbling in her tongue like buzzing bees. Him, leaving her! HIM! She certainly had fallen into another dimension. What had he said once? “Love is blood screaming inside you...” The voices in her head were yelling so loud that she wondered how in hell he wasn’t able to hear them. So I love him? I love him. He’s going to leave me and I’ve just sussed it out NOW? How much more of a jerk can I be? She took another step this time blocking his run-away to the bathroom. I’m sorry, Big Bad, but you’re SO mistaken!

_ You’re not leaving me. You are not, - she spelled the words out like lashes. Her hands reached his chest and followed him backwards till he hit the wall. He stood there staring at her, his arms along his body, immobile and static, scared of allowing himself a slight thread of hope. Please, be gentle. Please, don’t make me stop you. Not again. Her fingers were now tracing his sharp cheekbones, his lips, his eyelids, as if she’d turned into a blind woman trying to figure out his identity. Her mouth was so near, soft and wet and hot but he couldn’t move even after her tongue forced his mouth open and plunged into it. His whole body stiffened and he wasn’t able to do anything but to expect some sort of tough, fighting movement. Her tongue, moving inside his mouth, was tender and caressing as if she were discovering him for the first moment. He dared to touch it with his own, slowly at first, then stroking passionately but still unable to raise his arms, waiting for a sign that it was not just a dream, a phase that would turn into a nightmare if he permitted himself to believe it.

Her sweating palms were on his chest again and then they were on his back, on his sides, trailing his ribs like the keys of a mute piano. What was going on there? He’d always been so active, full of energy and mischievous looks and smirks and replies and now he was acting like a shy kid or... Maybe he didn’t want her anymore. She broke the kiss for a while. His silver skin, pale and smooth as silk, gleamed with trails of gold under the lamp. His eyes were dark and she couldn’t read them as the shadows cast a veil on them.

Spike swallowed hard. He did see the unspoken fears in her face. How could she think he didn’t want her? He craved her. With a deep moan he finally raised his arms, grabbing the lapels of her coat, pulling her to his body. His kiss was so tender, his tongue licking her lips, his blunt teeth biting them softly. He tasted her in every way possible and Buffy couldn’t help the tears that watered her eyes. She fought them back, pressing her body against his cold stomach, feeling his undeniable erection. Oh, my God, and I thought I could be away from him? How could I? No matter now, just feel, feel, allow yourself to be alive. Her hands left the hollow of his back, cupping his well-shaped ass, pushing him closely as she rubbed against him in urgent motions, smiling when he groaned inside her mouth and thrust her stomach even harder. Well, finally you’re awake, my Big Bad? Better help me get rid of the clothes, then. Perhaps she’d whispered it loud ‘cause the next thing she was aware of was him pulling off her coat in a hard, unsteady way. One of his hands ran under her blouse, looking for her breasts. His fingers fastened on her nipple, twisting it, caressing it, teasing it.

She couldn’t but break the kiss again only to take a long breath before diving in his chest, biting his nipples in reply. A heavy growl made his entire body quiver as her hands abandoned his ass just to travel to his cock, running down it with deliberate slowness.

_ So you’re going to kill me after all, - he managed to say between long unneeded gasps before she captured his mouth once more, this time with an urgent and demanding desire. Her whole soul was shouting for him to take her just there, even in full clothes.

But he wasn’t going to do that. Oh no, love. Torture her a little here, as a reward for all those long nights you’ve made me feel like a beaten dog looking for some shelter from a ravaging storm. How long are you planning to stretch this out, mate? You’ll explode in her hands. Oh, my God. Weren’t you torturing her? She was devouring him now. “Spike devour me!” But that was another time, another thing. Obscene, she had said. Not real, she had said. She was real now, so real, knelt, as she was, a fervid experience he’d never expected, not from her. A kneeling warrior, full of strength and power, pushing him to the verge of a swirling cliff. His head hit the wall and his hands tried to seize her but she was as elusive as a dream.

Buffy felt him flapping under her touch, under the scratches her nails were tracing on his muscled thighs, on his calves, on his firm ass. She’d have been grinning as a madman if she hadn’t been so busy driving him crazy. This was her way to show him how much she’d missed him, a way to claim him; her battle against any defences he could still be holding. His muffled voice told her about her victory, the quivering of his entire body offered a surrendering flag. Feminine power. Mine, all mine and you’ll never be able to deny it. I own you, I can make you do what I want. Not to use you, never again, she promised him with no words, just a huge self-proud smile and wide green eyes.

_You’re still alive..., - it wasn’t a question but a mischievous statement. She giggled briefly when he finally moved, nearly ripping her blouse off. There was a clattering sound as the buttons hit the floor along with the chain and its locket and its wedding ring, tickling at her thoughts only for a brief moment before she let them go as he unfastened her leather pants, his tongue licking and biting her nipples ravishingly. One now, then the other as if he couldn’t decide, his hands taking off the rest of her clothes, lifting her from the floor, walking towards the couch.

They never had a real bed. But this was better as Giles’ bed would raise shy and awkward feelings she didn’t want to experiment with right now. Not to mention painful memories of a murder... Brush that off, she obligated herself as he sat on the couch holding her tightly on his lap, never releasing her breasts, her wet, wisely caressed breasts. Her fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him to her and then they sailed on his chest, on his knees, his powerful and strong thighs. Spike shifted their bodies, placing her on the velvet surface, never leaving his feverish journey along her neck, her arms, her shoulders. I wish I could have three, four hands to touch you everywhere at the same time; five mouths to worship you as you deserve. Never enough, nothing enough. I love you and even that is not enough.

Buffy’s body arched and trembled beneath his hands. “You’re beneath me” Now, I am and there’s no other place I’d like to be. He was seductive and gentle and she could feel both of his halves, human and demon, adoring her with mouth and tongue, with long fingers and faded whispers. Her nails ran down the perfection of his back, on the sharp shoulder blades, like those of a tiger when it walked across the jungle in that elastic and graceful way. “Tiger, tiger, burning bright...” The poem sprang to her mind and she couldn’t help a silly smile. Wasn’t she right, that former naughty Slayer she’d probably inherited all those feelings from? I crave him, she’d written down. Buffy hugged Spike with such strength that he couldn’t help a choking groan. Before the night is over, you will not only groan but also scream. And maybe shout. Now, just now, tell me you love me, tell me, please. The heels of her feet caressed his calves in long, rhythmical movements. He was so soft and cold and pale as a moon landscape, her own personal moonlight glittering on the waves of her blood.

How was that song? Spike’s mind wandered incoherently. “In the night...love can grow” Damned it if this wasn’t love. Her touch was so different from that she’d used every night at his crypt! And if it isn’t, well, I’m not going to think about it. Let me believe it for one night, for only one bloody night. He kissed her deeply, filling her mouth with words and gasps while his hands trailed along her trembling stomach, her navel, pushing further the dam of her emotions.

Buffy cried when he released her mouth to follow the path of his hands. His fingers slipped between her legs and she could only spread them wider, closing her eyes firmly when they traced her as he only knew, hard and gentle, replaced then by his wise tongue, his cold long tongue reaching places that made her feel that she was in a free-fall of eternal pleasure. Her nails gripping his shoulders were hot sizzling needles. Why in hell had she rejected this bliss? He knew her by heart; he had always known her, not only in a physical way but also in her mind, always one step ahead. She felt fragile as porcelain in his hands and as awesome as it sounded, that didn’t scare her. “Do you trust me?” Oh, yeah, I do. You’d never hurt me, not you. Porcelain; she cried and bent her spine when the rush of the orgasm shattered her nerves. She was nothing but slivers of porcelain, shinning china on a green velvet surface.

Spike raised his head and his eyes glared at her face. Her eyes were shut and there was a smile in her lips that had nothing to do with the orgasm. She’s glowing with a secret ecstasy. Wonder what’s in that head of yours, love.

_ Come here, - her whisper was low and hypnotic as the hot flames of a firestorm. Her legs bent around him while he slowly crawled on her body. Oh, Big Cat, sensual and dangerous and...mine. All mine, her mind chanted while she arched vehemently to let him slip inside her. Slowly, moving with unbearable waviness, shuddering and moaning. I love you, I love you. You’re so warm and I’m made of wax. Old and tired wax for you to mould at your entire will.

Buffy’s legs were an iron grip above his hips as if she was afraid he’d melt in the thin air like a ghost. She’s going to burst into millions of burning stars that would float across the universe as a sign of her bliss. Her mouth assaulted his, bit his low, erotic lip with possessive intensity. Butterflies were teasing her veins, running wild along her flanks, pushing her to a brink with each powerful thrust.

_ Moonlight on a raging sea, - she murmured without even noticing, looking at the blue, flickering surprise in his amused eyes. That smirk, oh, how I missed you. Her hands grabbed his face, pulling him to her mouth in a bruising kiss that softened the moans of pleasure and delight. _ I love you.

The words slipped from her when the spasms of orgasm made them both cry and arch and hold each other with a sturdy grip. Complete, I feel complete. And warm and cared. Is this heaven? It’s so alike... Who would have known that in the middle of hell you could find such a blessing spot of heaven? I love you, she’d said. She had and it didn’t burn a hole in her guts; she didn’t want to take it back. It’s so strange not to hear him saying that. He hadn’t said it and she opened her eyes just a bit to spy on him. His face was buried between her breasts, his cold breath sweeping up the drops of sweat that slid on her skin like salty tears. Or..., she gently made him raise his head. His beautiful eyes glowed with a washed shade of blue. His tears told her more than anything his words could ever express. Buffy kissed his eyelids, his long dark eyelashes. Wet and cold as the rain at night, his tears. “I’ve seen him crying” A soulless creature crying for me. How odd was that? She couldn’t help thinking about another creature as soulless as that who was hugging her. She grimaced and fidgeted at the uncomfortable memory. So out of place, such a traitorous thought. Don’t think about the past. Leave it behind. You, you don’t cry for me anymore. I’m here, with you and I’m damned if I will ever let you go. I’ll never leave you again.

_ So, I guess you’ll take another bath?

_ If you let me chain you in the tub this time, - he teased eluding the desperate voice within his throat trying to ask what he didn’t want to ask in that moment. We’ve time, mate. She’s here and she’s going to stay. He’s completely sure about that fact. She wasn’t that coward. Maybe a little, he admitted but not after what she’d said. She’d stand for it. Perhaps with arms crossed over those delicious breasts of hers, fully naked, while she performed a charade of blind fury. Well, ok, that’s a fantasy. How many times had he fantasized about that?

_ I think you already had your revenge at that, - one of her nails was sketching the length of his spine. Spike shivered and pulled up to look at her with a playful smile.

_ Well, then, let’s have this bath together. We can chain to each other and then to the taps. You know...

_ Evil, - she tried to sound harsh and offended. She even frowned but failed utterly. A wide smile curved her lips and she couldn’t but giggle loudly when he lifted her in his arms, walking towards the bathroom. For a brief moment she almost believed he had chains hidden somewhere. But, of course, and to her shocking disappointment there weren’t any. Only a glittering spark of a necklace on the basin. Hot water was running fast while her fingers picked up the small chain. It looked familiar. Painfully familiar. The other part..., the other part had hanged from her neck till it had fallen to the floor an hour ago. Maybe it’s Giles’. Maybe he’d found it somewhere, in a smaller box he didn’t remember. Tell me it’s not what I’m thinking it is. Tell me I’m wrong. “Tiger, tiger...” The world couldn’t be upside down from one second to the other. Their gazes locked upon the swinging and silvery gleams of the locket.

_ Do you like it, love? It’s yours then.

Spike couldn’t believe his ears. He’d actually given her his most precious treasure? The only and last link of his memories? Let her go. It’s time now.

_ Mine?

He sounded so innocent. He didn’t know she knew! How could he? That muddled look in his eyes at the sight of the journal. Oh, my God! HER HUSBAND..., IT WAS YOU! She cupped her mouth with a trembling hand while her stomach fluttered and entangled with millions of hot wires. A Slayer, his wife. Where does that place me? Am I a replacement? Some sort of twisted and sick copy of that other Slayer of his? Yeah, he’d killed two of her kind. He’d tried hard to make his body count rise to the amount of three. “I’ll kill you on Saturday” Dizziness threatened to send her body to the tiled floor. Her hand reached out for some support.

_ What? What’s going on? – his voice was distant and frightened. She found herself sitting on the couch again and as much as she tried to get out of there his grip on her waist was an anchor. Escape, that was all she had in mind. The velvet seat was a searing reminder of the bliss she’d experienced there. A painful reminder of her words. I love you. Why hadn’t he laughed or growled with a cry of victory? Another Slayer falling at my feet, either to kill her or... But he’d cried; she’d seen his tears.

_ Love, please..., talk to me. You look peaky and you’re so cold. Let me...

He raised from the couch, his eyes never leaving her pale figure, and picked up the yellow coat. His eyes were pulled to the ground as the locket fell to it again with a strange and clattering sound. Spike’s trembling fingers picked it up slowly. The swinging chain hypnotised him dreadfully as if it had become the rope of a gallows pole. He could almost feel it strangling him, choking him in a slow agony. The book; it wasn’t Giles’. She..., she had read it? My God, even I never took a peek at it. I never dared. All her secrets, all he’d respected... Respected enough to bury it with her when she... A sudden revelation struck his forehead like a blow from a giant. Horrified he didn’t notice the profound growl that was escaping from his lips, sorrowful, a shattering grief digging at the very core of his undead being. They had profaned the only thing he’d kept as sacred in his mind. For Christ’s sake, what for? WHAT FOR?

_ Where the fucking hell did you get this? – this rage, this forgotten rage, that I won’t be able to control... _ TELL MEEEEEEE!

Her green eyes were so opened, so shocked, that they seemed to be the only feature in her face. Her lips moved but no sound escaped from them, only desperate gasps. He looked like a God of vengeance; a demon made of clenched fists and flaring golden eyes. Buffy sank deeply into the couch at his sight. He wasn’t only furious; his fangs flashed under the lamp and a thin thread of spit seeped from his opened mouth. It terrified her. The sight of primal rage. A walking chaos, a seething one. Talk before he kills you. Just say it, please.

_ Giles... gave it to me. He..., he..., the Council found it..., found it in a... - “STOP STUTTERING!” – in a basement.

The gold of his eyes nearly set the whole place on fire. He roared and laughed with an outrageous, tuneless noise. _In a basement? He told you... Oh, my God!

Buffy couldn’t believe her eyes. One moment he was the image of wrath, then a convulsive figure of pain and grief. Knelt on the floor, naked and crying his eyes out, in such a state that she oscillated between sorrow and fear. Up and down, up and down; my life is a never-ending ride on a seesaw. Finally, her arms surrounded his body, quivering under the complete vibration of his muscles. Empathy; again. Sobs escaped from her own cold lips while she tried frantically to get what he was muttering. Cemetery..., grave. No, please, I’m not listening to this. Giles, how could you?

At last, she managed to place him on the couch, wrapping his bent shoulders with her own coat. It was small and looked on him like a doll’s cloak.

_ ...and I buried her with that box. I put everything in there and buried it with her, - Spike repeated in such a soft voice that it seemed to be coming from upstairs. _ ‘Cause it was our secret, nobody would have ever begun to understand. Nobody would have ever accepted that... I never read it. It’s tempting but I never read it. ‘Cause she wouldn’t have liked it and I thought that if I did it..., if I did it... It’d be like raping her, you know? Violate her and..., - his voice broke down.

_ Shh, shh, - the only sound that slipped from her mouth was that constant soothing whispering. So many questions she had! Searing questions that burned at the doors of her chest, nearly scalding the hands that, crashed at their surface, struggled to keep them shut.

_ I..., I’m sorry for..., I thought... You know, - his eyes were wet and wide as those of a missing child looking for his mother. “As an orphan...” So lost, so lonely, full of shame and a desperate plea for forgiveness; it wrung her heart wretchedly. Her lips kissed his eyelids, as ethereal as imaginary dragonflies, then followed the bridge of his nose till they finally found his mouth. Please don’t reject me. Let me take care of you. Let me console you, erase this sadness from both our hearts.

Spike’s hands clung to her waist. He’s falling into that old grave he’d long ago climbed out from. There’d been a voice in the night, after all. His voice, calling, shouting for somebody to save him. Some consolation. Tons of it you need, mate. Drown yourself in her. Let her kiss you, taste you, show you that everything is not lost. Let her be your safety net, tonight at least. As he’d been for her when she hated herself enough to be screwed by a fiend. Him. What am I now? How can she love me now? It can’t be...

He broke away from her; his lips were such a thin line that they had almost disappeared from his face. He was about to ask, to put into spoken words the emotional whirlpool spinning wildly in his heart. She pulled him in with a soft tone.

_ Do you love her? Do you still love her? – so many unspoken doubts danced in that small or maybe huge question. Doubts and an appalling terror to listen to him saying...

_ No, - was that her restrained breath escaping like a leak of hot water from a pipe or was it his? A fag, I need a fag before I break my fingers like frozen sticks. Back again on the couch, sitting on the edge of it, he finally lit the cigarette with shaky hands. _ It’s so long ago. I know what you’re thinking here, - his gaze was dark and cloudy, - but you’re wrong. That night..., that night she died, I swore I’d never fall in love again. Who could have told me I’d failed in that as well? I love you, Buffy, and it’s nothing to do with the Slayer thing. Or maybe it has. How could I love you if I didn’t love that part of you either?

_What about Dru then? – she forced the name out. It felt bitter and foul as an old brew.

He shivered and shrugged his shoulders. _ I loved her. In such a different way! With her..., I was only one thing. With her..., I didn’t betray what I really was. She saved me..., twice. She took me beyond everything, taught me everything. And I learned, and I was safe. Safe enough not to fall again, safe enough to...

_ To kill Slayers..., - she stopped abruptly and the silence stretched between them only to be broken by the distant sound of a howling siren, a bark. Then nothing.

He was staring at the dead body feeling dizzy and empty. That Chinese girl who had the guts to use THE TITLE! If I kneel beside her now, if I look into those dead eyes, really look into them, would I find you? Your lineage, your memories... Has she really got your memories? Is there anything of you in there? I don’t feel a thing. I DON’T! Why on earth don’t I? “Naughty, wicked Spike”. You don’t know how much! You will never know how much! Come here, have a taste, have a taste ´cause this is aphrodisiac and I really know what I’m talking about. Have a taste of this evil and empty creature that is roaring inside of me, choking me with a rough and delighted laughter. Laugh at my lost heaven and welcome to the game. The true game and you’ve lost, missy. And I don’t give a damn. You see how we’re shagging just in front of those dead eyes of yours and I’m laughing, laughing, laughing... and bleeding, bleeding, bleeding...

Spike’s bleached head nodded ten times before he’d speak again. _ Maybe. All I was at that time compelled me to. I had left my family to pursue a dream that ended in a bloodshed nightmare. Alex’s blood, - had he really named her? Had he really pronounced her name aloud? - I don’t..., you don’t want to know, - he grimaced and twisted at the memory, - but when I found her..., my first thought was that it was a massive punishment for having forgotten our true natures, - he crashed the butt on the table. _I travelled across Europe and you don’t want to know what I did, ‘cause the pain never receded, you see. It’s always there like the blood, her blood, that covered me entirely, - he lit another cigarette, his eyes locked on his feet, - Of course, that wasn’t true. Only a delusion I couldn’t get rid of even after buckets and buckets of soap water. I had betrayed my nature and the only bloody way I’d get rid of that was... So, yeah, I killed them, wasn’t that the true game after all? Slayer, vampire, they fight, one dies. And then, there was you. And I lost my way again. Another punishment? When you died... Oh, my God, when you died!

Buffy forced herself to come out from that sort of refuge the corner of the couch had turned into, just to place a hand on the nape of his long neck. He seemed to be so far away. She felt as if she were walking on her tiptoes along a sharp ridge. _ You’re not only one thing. You’re not only a demon, - she stated intensely. She’d figured it out, how long ago? Always. Yet, she’d had to read that book to finally accept it. Must I feel jealous or thankful here? I’ll decide it another day, now there’s something I really want to know. _What did she say to you? What did she whisper to you that night?

Spike shook his head, confused and extremely tired. The lump in his throat and belly had developed into a mass of metal spiders, scratching at his guts with prickling claws.

_ She found you in the street and you had a fight. And then she whispered something in your ear and you kissed her, - she explained hastily, a little bit ashamed of herself. Curiosity killed the cat, you know? But a glad memory wouldn’t be bad. It seemed so ‘cause the corner of his mouth trembled a little before he allowed himself a steady smile.

_ I was going to bite her. Well, not really. It’s all a bluff or... Anyway, she... - he stopped sharply and his smile changed to one of those lovely smirks of his. Buffy’s heart skipped a beat, - You’re a naughty girl, you know? Ok, ok, you don’t need to hit me so bloody hard. I don’t remember the exact words... Ok! – he laughed now. Two more lost heartbeats, - “If feeling you inside me means that I’ve got to be bitten, well, just do it then.” Too much for a Victorian girl...

Buffy giggled and his eyes stared at her in wonderment. Wasn’t she the image of beauty? Cheeks all flushed and lips lifted in a half smile that made her whole face glow. Even her green eyes were gleaming with insolent sparks and her breasts, oh, her breasts. The way they move, slowly, up and down, mesmerising movements of tiny waves, calling him, bewitching him as the songs of mermaids do. His fingertips ached with the urgent desire to be touching her. He was about to move when she took his face between her hands. _ This is weird. I mean, you and me. But somehow... I came here to kill Giles or maybe to make a good scene. ‘Cause it scared me, you know. Well, not scared me. Enlightened me, the reading... It seemed that everything in that book was happening to me. I know that maybe you don’t want to hear this, but... she made me understand. I wanted you to know that, -she whispered before kissing him softly. Kisses like footsteps of a fairy, small and sparkling with golden drops of nectar. Fingers like the wings of the fairy, tickling lightly, causing his muscles to tremor under their flapping touch.

He sighed, a long and deep sigh that expressed more than simple words. All his heart was in that sigh, all the love he felt, everything she meant to him. Forgive me; forgive this rage I can’t control sometimes. This’s what I am, who I am. She was pushing him down gently, her palms opened on his shoulders, without leaving his mouth, his eyes, his cheekbones.

This was so much better, being able to touch him, to taste him, without having to handcuff him. “Do you trust me?” How could you trust me? Never scared of me staking him in the heat of the moment. I tied him up and yet... Don’t think about that now. Enjoy..., enjoy..., enjoy his perfection, this chest, this stomach, this love. Yours and his.

Buffy’s sleek hair caressed the shaking muscles of his stomach like thousands of little feelers. Oh, it tickles, in a good way. He couldn’t but smile at the memory; his eyes still closed. Her fingertips groped his flanks, delineated his ribs, his hips while her tongue danced along the muscles of his abs, sank on his navel, delineated the sensitive skin of his groin.

_ Oh, yes, love, - he’d become a fountain of sighs. Drowning in a melting and falling sensation. To belong. And that idiotic, rapturous purr vibrating in his chest... I’m a total poof and guess what? I don’t bloody care.

Buffy’s mouth switched directions and then she was playing with his fingers, biting and licking the tips of each one. He protested for a brief moment. She sucked all of them with a sensual and provocative slowness. _ Stay still or I’ll go home, - she threatened as she followed the lines of his veins, the upper arms, his stretched neck, the soft and delicious earlobe. His mouth; she loved his mouth; clever and dangerous, smooth and wet and hers to play all night long with those lips. Her legs straddled him and suddenly she just stopped, staring at him with dark eyes. _ Promise me something.

_ Anything, pet. I won’t fail this time. I mean...

_ I know. Promise that if that chip of yours stops working someday and something happens to me, you’ll never, ever, turn into such a monster.

He pulled up and kissed her roughly. _ Nothing will happen to you, love. Nothing.

_ But if...

_ If ..., I’ll be no monster but a pile of dust, so you don’t need to worry. Do you really think I’ll stay in this bloody world again if...

Bruising kisses weren’t what she had had in mind. But she couldn’t help it. This love she felt, it burned and consumed her blood, her mind, her very soul. Blood screaming inside you.... Us.

I knew you were going to shout my Big Bad, my Big Cat, my love.

Fin