Rating: This chapter, PG.



Recap: Instead of perishing in the Chosen battle, Spike lives, thanks to Buffy pulling the amulet off of him. However, his soul was lost. Hoping to recover it, Buffy and Spike travel to L.A., seeking Angel's help since the amulet originated from Wolfram and Hart. Meanwhile, Angel plays mind games with both Buffy and Spike, hoping to stifle their budding relationship. Buffy and Spike have argued as a result, and Angel has seemingly convinced Spike to leave.





A/N: (i.e., inane babbling.) I rewrote the next few chapters (plot and all) multiple times before I felt that I got it right. Hence the two-month delay. But trust me – the re-writing was needed. This chapter was originally reeeeally long, so I ended up cutting it in half. As a result of all these changes, the story is going to be longer than I estimated.

Minor canon note: I realize that the “Angel branch” of Wolfram and Hart isn’t completely set up until the first episode of AtS Season 5. In this chapter, the offices are under construction but still functional for the needs of the story. I figured they must have been doing something there for those 19 days between Chosen and Conviction, and taking advantage of their new resources would most likely be on that list.

*************

Part Eleven

On the way to Wolfram and Hart, the mood in the car was tense, much like the weather outside. Ranks of dark, heavy clouds were rolling in from the western shoreline, eclipsing the late morning sun. Buffy felt uneasy and out of place as she watched the last few rays of sunlight drift harmlessly across the back of Angel’s hand.

There were many things on her mind, but Spike was at the forefront of her thoughts. She couldn’t figure out why he had refused to come with them that morning – or why he’d refused to even answer the door when she’d knocked. Sure, they’d had a little scuffle the night before, but it was so minor compared to some of the fights they’d had in the past. Buffy had dismissed it after not much thought, certain that Spike would do the same. Yet he wasn’t here with her. This should be important to him – didn’t he want his soul back anymore? Buffy didn’t think Spike had it in him to let jealousy of Angel come between him and something he wanted – if anything, it would make him fight harder. What had changed so dramatically in the last 24 hours?

Angel was strangely silent on the matter, ever calm and collected as he navigated the streets of L.A. Buffy glanced at his profile, outlined by the fading sunlight, and wondered what he was thinking about and why he was so quiet. “This car is really something else,” she remarked, trying her best to break the uncomfortable silence.

Angel smiled as he shifted gears. “I’ve enjoyed it – especially the necro-tempered glass. That’s what keeps me from getting burned by the sun. It’s going to be in my new office as well. The whole building is equipped with it now.”

As the first few droplets of rain hit the windshield with a noisy splatter, Buffy bit her lip and sank down in her seat.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, glancing at her sidelong.

She shook her head. “No, it’s just – I wish Spike was here to see it, you know? I think he’d get a kick out of it.”

Angel cleared his throat and said nothing.

****

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Spike heard the rain pounding on the roof, intermingled with the clink of bottles and various demonic languages droning in the background. Only the real junkies could be found at demon bars after the sun came up – usually only the ones that were hiding out, passing through the city, or looking for “off-hour” business opportunities. Spike glanced over the scattered clientele, thinking that once upon a time, this place might have held a world of opportunity for him. Now it just made him miss the comfort of a real home with warm bodies inside.

He hadn’t meant to stay out after the sun rose. Really, he hadn’t. But when the edges of the sky began brightening with the promise of dawn, he suddenly found himself frozen in place, unable to rise to his feet and return to the hotel.

Spike hated that Angel had gotten to him the night before. Everything he’d said amounted to nothing but mind games, of course – Spike knew that, but the damage was done. Angel really did know how to get to him. Simple jealousy wouldn’t do the trick, but questioning Spike’s love for Buffy certainly would. Of all the things Angel could have said, that cut the deepest. But what to do about it, Spike didn’t know.

He couldn’t just leave her. It would probably be the right thing to do – the best thing for her – but he felt the tug of loyalty holding him in place at her side. What was he supposed to do when his heart and head were telling him two different things? It seemed like no matter what choice he made, Buffy was going to end up hurt.

A demon bartender sidled up to Spike with a refill on his bourbon and blood, speaking in the snakelike voice that was typical of his species. “If you’re interested, vampire, we’ve got a running tap of the fresh stuff in the back. My boys just brought ‘em in this morning.”

Spike thumbed the edge of his glass and didn’t reply. He’d smelled the humans long before, sweating and crying in the back rooms, their hearts racing as they struggled against their restraints. Spike had tried not to care. He bloody well shouldn’t care. Wasn’t that what being soulless was all about?

It would be all too easy to take the bartender up on the offer – sneak back and have a bite. No chip, no soul to keep him in check. And after that, he could stroll out into the nearest alley he could find and have another go. Bite whomever he pleased. Make them scream and beg for mercy he didn’t feel obligated to give. Spike could have the run of this town if he wanted. Angel was busy setting up shop in the belly of the beast – no worries there. And Buffy – well, she’d probably be better off without him anyway.

It’s all right in front of you, mate. Your old life. Just reach out and take it. How long has it been since you’ve had control of your life?

“You hear me?” asked the bartender. “I said there’s humans in the back. Fresh pickings. I’ll even cut you a deal.”

Exhaling a long column of smoke, Spike flicked his cigarette onto the bartender’s dirty apron. “This place have a sewer exit?”

The demon nodded.

“Good,” replied Spike, draining his glass as he rose. “Show me the humans, then. Fancy a bite before I leave.”

Two minutes later, Spike had slaughtered every demon in the bar. When he was done, he turned his back on the humans and stalked away, not giving a piss for their cries of gratitude when he freed them.

Didn’t do it for them anyway.

Truth was, he didn’t want his old life back. He wanted more than it offered. If he was going to take control of things again, this was how it was going to be – straight and narrow. Angel was right. Buffy deserved better than what he could offer, but that didn’t mean Spike was going to stop offering her what little he had. It wasn’t the size of the sacrifice that mattered.

Suddenly missing her acutely, Spike took to the sewers at a clipped pace, wondering if she would be at the hotel when he returned.

*****

Alone with Angel in his new office, Buffy felt very out of place. When she’d first heard of Wolfram and Hart, she’d pictured a small office building – instead she discovered a multi-million dollar corporation that stretched high into the sky, past the cast iron clouds that encompassed the city. Spike hadn’t been kidding when he’d mentioned that the firm was evil. You could feel the demonic oppression in the air, even outside the building. Her Slayer senses were all a’tingle, and she wanted very much to be elsewhere. But there was work to do first.

Angel wasn’t proving to be much help in the way of research. He seemed more interested in giving her the grand tour than in figuring out what Wolfram and Hart had to do with the amulet. Buffy had to practically drag him to find Wesley so that they could begin their work. Wesley had supplied them with enough books and codices to keep them occupied while he checked some other sources. Hours passed and book after book was dismissed as useless. Buffy was beginning to wonder if coming to L.A. had been a wasted effort.

Toward the latter part of the afternoon, Wesley swept into Angel’s office, looking very preoccupied as he flipped through the pages of a notebook. “I believe I’ve uncovered some information,” he said. “Quite by accident – or rather quite on purpose, depending on how you look at it.”

“Let’s see it,” said Angel, sounding unenthusiastic at the prospect. Wesley handed over the notebook, and Buffy sat up anxiously in her chair as Angel thumbed through the information. “Where’d you get this?”

Wesley cleared his throat. “When I went back to my department to retrieve that codex I mentioned earlier, I discovered that a note had been left for me. Within it were clues that led me to a scroll, kept under lock and key in the Wolfram and Hart archives. And when I say lock and key, I mean some of the most powerful binding magic I’ve ever encountered. It’s no wonder we’ve not been able to uncover anything concerning the amulet in these books. Someone has gone through a great deal of trouble to conceal it.”

“So what, they just let you access it without a fuss?” asked Angel. “How’d you get past the binding spell?”

“It didn’t prove much of a problem. You see, the note from my secret admirer was very informative,” replied Wesley with a tight smile. “What you have in your hand is a translation of the scroll I discovered in the archives, something apparently not intended for our eyes. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.”

“Think it’s a trick?”

“Oh, most assuredly. Still, it is our best lead, and to be perfectly honest, it confirms what I’ve feared since I was first informed of the situation.”

Shrugging indifferently, Angel handed the notebook over to Buffy. “There’s your answer. In black and white, appropriately enough.”

Buffy frowned. “But … Wesley just said he thought it was a trick.”

“Look, you asked for help,” replied Angel, “and this is what we can give you.”

She began reading. “Oh, damn – there’s a prophecy. I hate those things. Leave it to cryptic old men to write cryptic old prophecies for the next generation to scratch their heads over. But really – all I came here for was to find out how to get Spike’s soul back in place. Can you give me the Cliff’s Notes version?”

“Well, yes,” replied Wesley, “but I don’t think it’s quite what you were expecting. If the information in this scroll proves to be remotely accurate … well, I think it’s safe to say you have a problem on your hands.”

Buffy’s brow crinkled. “S’plainie?”

“The amulet is a powerful weapon, as you witnessed the other day. But according to this, it’s intended to be used only by someone blessed by the gods. A priest or something analogous, if you will. Spike, who is of course a vampire, would not be considered among the blessed.”

“But he wielded the amulet in the Hellmouth, didn’t he?”

“Yes, and at great risk to himself. I think it’s safe to say had you not ripped it off of him, not only would he have perished – but his very essence would have been trapped within the amulet itself. As it stands, only his soul was lost instead of his corporeal body.”

“What do you mean, trapped?” asked Angel.

“Think of it like a holding chamber for those deemed unworthy. To what end, we can only guess.”

“And Spike was unworthy because he was a demon.”

Wesley nodded.

“Wolfram and Hart intended for me to use that amulet,” said Angel, sitting back in his chair. “They meant for that to happen to me.”

“So … how exactly does Spike get his soul back?” asked Buffy in a small voice.

Wesley’s eyes dropped apologetically. “Well, that’s the rather unfortunate part. He doesn’t.”

Buffy blinked. “I’m sorry – what?”

“The scroll was quite clear on the matter, I’m afraid.”

He leaned over Buffy and pointed at a small paragraph in his notes. Her eyes flooded with tears as they flitted over words like unworthy and sacrifice. “I don’t accept this,” she whispered. “There has to be a way. You-you translated it wrong. That’s possible, right?”

“Possible but not likely,” said Angel. “Wesley’s good at what he does, Buffy.”

“Well, then the information is false. You both said you didn’t trust it. Who would trust anything from this place?”

“Why would someone lie to us about this?” asked Angel. “Spike doesn’t mean anything to Wolfram and Hart. I was supposed to wear the amulet. It was a mistake.”

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, Buffy,” said Wesley, “but I promise to keep looking into the situation as much as I can. You can keep those notes I’ve given you. I would suggest you give them to Mr. Giles to review. Perhaps he can lend a hand in researching the authenticity.”

“In the meantime, I think Spike should stay here with us in L.A.,” said Angel. “I can keep an eye on him here.”

Buffy turned to glare at Angel with such vehemence that he shrunk back a fraction. “No.”

“Buffy, I really think…”

“No.”

Glancing between the two of them, Wesley cleared his throat and inched toward the door. “Well, then. I’ll just leave you two alone to, um … yes, well I’ll just leave.”

Angel got to his feet and leaned forward against his desk, waiting until they were alone before he spoke. “Look, Buffy – I know this isn’t what you expected, but you’re just going to have to accept it. We’ve done all we can do.”

“Have you?” asked Buffy as she wiped at the corners of her eyes, looking anywhere but at him. She didn’t want him to see her crying. “Are you sure about that?”

“Newsflash – you’re not the only one going through something right now,” he bit back. “I said I would help you out with Spike, and I think you should accept the offer. I know how to handle him.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” she countered. “I’m not leaving him here. We’re going to figure out a way to get his soul back, with or without your help.”

“We’re? Tell me, Buffy – where is Spike? Why isn’t he here with you, if he’s so interested in getting his soul back?”

“We just … had a fight is all,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It wasn’t a big deal. He’s probably waiting for me to bring him news right now.”

Angel shook his head. “He wasn’t at the hotel this morning, Buffy.”

“What are you talking about? Of course he was. He just didn’t answer the door when I knocked.”

“No, Spike was gone.”

“What are you implying?”

“That he’s out there right now – soulless. And from what you’ve told me, without even that government chip to slow him down. Yet here, right in front of me, is a Slayer who can’t seem to get it into her head what he really is – what he’s going to stay.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fine – don’t. Have fun counting the bodies.”

“He hasn’t killed anyone, Angel, and he’s not going to. I trust him.”

“Do you know what he was doing right before I talked to him last night? Standing at his window, staring at a woman outside like he was ready to lunge at her throat. How do you know he didn’t after I left?”

“You talked to Spike? What did you say to him?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

“Did you hurt him?” she pressed. “Because if you did…”

“I didn’t lay a finger on him.”

“I’m supposed to believe that? Especially when you tell me he left?” Shaking her head, Buffy looked around for her jacket and purse. “Why didn’t you mention this before? I should have been out there looking for him – not here wasting time.”

“Fine, go look for him, but do it for the right reasons. Spike is a killer, Buffy. And you know what else? He has no concept of how wrong it is. It never even occurs to him. Is that the kind of person you want in your life? In your home with your sister and your friends? Have you forgotten what he is? What you are?”

Practically shaking in anger, Buffy turned and stalked toward the door. “Take me back to the hotel. We’re done here.”

*****

To be continued.

A/N: All of that extra prophecy stuff won’t figure into this story. It’s stored up in my head for a sequel if I choose to write one.

I would love to hear your feedback on this.

Part 12

When Spike emerged from the sewers a short distance from the Hyperion, he pulled his duster over his head, hoping to ward off the rain and any glimpses of sunlight that might come filtering through the heavy clouds overhead. The hotel appeared gray and imposing before him. He hurried up the steps and into the lobby, stopping short when he saw Dawn sitting at the front desk by herself. She glanced up from a magazine, looking surprised to see him.

“You came back,” she said, her voice even. She looked strangely grown up to his eyes, sitting there with her legs crossed primly at the ankles.

Spike shook the rain from his duster as he approached. “‘Course I did,” he replied. “You really think I wouldn’t?”

“Actually, I kinda expected you to pull a Hank.”

He lifted a scarred eyebrow. “Wassat?”

“Hank would be my dad,” she explained as she set her magazine aside. “He likes to come around and pretend he cares about Buffy and me – then he leaves right when we get used to having him around. It’s a thing.”

Spike caught on to what she was implying. “Bit, I’m not…”

“In or out, Spike,” she said, cutting him off. “Quit messing with my emotions – and with Buffy’s. Figure out what the hell you want, grow some balls, and go for it.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips at her colorful choice of words. “Here, aren’t I?”

Dawn bit her lip, shifting her eyes around the room as she sighed. “Yeah, I guess you are. So where were you?”

“I just needed to sort through some things in my head, is all.”

“Did you? Sort through them, I mean.”

He shrugged. “More or less. Where’s big sis?”

Dawn nodded at the suitcases that were in a messy pile by the elevator. “She called about ten minutes ago, telling me to pack everything up so we could leave when she got back. She sounded pretty pissed when I told her you weren’t here.” Dawn paused and grinned. “You’re so gonna get your ass kicked, by the way.”

“Like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked with a wink.

“Yeah – you kinda deserve it.”

“Probably,” he conceded. “Hey, can I ask you something, Nibblet? Gotta promise me you won’t go blabbing to your sis about it, though. Pretty sure she wouldn’t like the idea.”

Dawn propped her head up on her hands. “Promise.”

Thumbing the edge of her magazine, Spike mulled over his question for a long moment before he spoke. “How terrible would it be if I didn’t get the soul back?”

“Um, wow,” she said, lifting her eyebrows in surprise. “Care to elaborate?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said to me last night at the diner. You said you knew I’d lost my soul because I started looking you in the eyes again. What’s it going to do to us if I get it back? What’s it going to do to me and Buffy?”

“Do you really think you would change your mind about us that fast?”

Spike ran his fingers through his hair, glancing expectantly at the door. “You don’t know what it’s like, Bit, feeling all that guilt hit you. It never lets up, and there’s no room to really give attention to anything else. I didn’t like to make that big a deal about the soul when I had it, but there were times I didn’t think I was gonna make it. Only reason I stuck around was because Buffy asked me to.”

“Where did all this come from?” asked Dawn. “You weren’t talking like this last night. Then it was all, ‘Oh, bluddy ‘ell, if’n the Buff wants me soul back, I’ll fetch it straight’way, by jove!’”

Spike scowled at her. “I have never and will never say the words ‘by jove’, got that?”

“No, seriously,” she pressed, “what’s your deal? I’ve never heard you talk like this.”

“It’s just something that Angel said to me last night,” muttered Spike under his breath. He glanced at the door again.

“What, and you actually listened to him? I didn’t know you listened to anyone, much less Angel.”

“Sometimes you hear things, even when you’re trying your best not to listen. And it usually works out that those are the things that stick with you the longest.”

Growing quiet at his words, Dawn studied his profile for a long moment. “Would you really leave us?”

“No,” he admitted. “I’d still be there. You know, in a physical/geographical sense, but…”

“…you wouldn’t really be there,” she finished for him. “It’d be like it was before, when you wouldn’t even look at me.”

“I don’t like to admit it, but yeah. There’s definitely that possibility.” He glanced up at her uncertainly. “So what’s the verdict?”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I liked you better with the soul. I didn’t. You were an evasive asshole. I mean, you’re still an asshole, but at least you talk to me now.”

“Ta, Bit.”

“I really think you should talk to Buffy about this, Spike. If you’re having serious doubts about your soul, she needs to know. She puts a lot of stock in it, if you haven’t noticed. I think that comes with the whole Slayer package, like a free gift with purchase.”

Spike’s expression grew dark. “Kinda hard to talk to her when she’s off alone with Grandaddy Forehead.”

“Well, whose fault is it that they’re alone together?”

“Quiet, you. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Hmm, must have missed the memo. You’re not seriously worried about Buffy and Angel being together, are you?”

Spike leaned heavily against the desk and said, “She still loves him, Bit. I can’t compete with that.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Hey, wait a sec. Your soul didn’t suddenly materialize, did it? Because you’re being way lame, in case you didn’t know. Buffy’ll be back any minute, and after she kicks your ass around the room a bit, she’ll realize that she missed you like crazy all day. And then you’ll jump into each other’s arms, and I’ll have to excuse myself to throw up, and you’ll live happily ever after – with or without a soul. Blah-dy blah blah.”

Spike smiled. “And where does Angel fit in?”

“Duh. He doesn’t. And that was his choice, by the way. Don’t be stupid like him.”

“Right,” replied Spike, feeling minutely better about the situation. “Guess I’m worrying about nothing, huh?”

Dawn tilted her head to the side, mimicking deep thought. “Well, unless Angel changes his mind and decides he wants her after all. Then you might have something to worry about. Because let’s face it – he is kinda hot.”

Spike’s smile turned into a glower. “Okay, that? Didn’t help.”

Before Dawn could reply, Buffy came huffing into the lobby, the sound of her rapid footfalls echoing in her wake. Angel was a short distance behind her, his face carefully wiped of emotion up until the moment he caught sight of Spike. The two vampires stared at each other, shoulders straightening as they exchanged silent challenges.

“Hey, Buffy,” said Dawn, pointing at Spike. “Look who showed up?”

When Buffy caught sight of Spike, the relief she felt was obvious on her face, but it was quickly overshadowed with the same look of anger she’d worn when she first entered. “Are we all packed up?” she asked Dawn in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, but I don’t see why we have to go home so soon,” said Dawn. “I mean we just got here last night.”

Buffy ignored her and picked up her suitcase. “It’ll be dark in less than an hour, and it’s raining. Spike should be safe enough in the car. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Safe enough?” echoed Spike, breaking the staring match with Angel. “That sounds … adventurous. Let’s be on our way, then.”

“Buffy, I wish we could talk about this before you just run off,” said Angel, stepping forward.

“There’s nothing more to talk about,” she replied shortly. “If you change your mind about helping us, then maybe I’ll have something more to say.” And then she was gone, fleeing out of the front door and off to the car. Retrieving her magazine from the desk, Dawn smiled uncertainly at Angel before she followed her sister.

Spike turned and cocked an eyebrow in his grandsire’s direction. “Well, you two seem to have had a nice reunion. And to think I was worried about you being alone with her.”

A muscle ticked in Angel’s jaw. “I’m disappointed to find you here, Spike. When you left the hotel last night, I figured you had finally wised-up. Guess I was wrong. Did you take anything I told you last night into consideration?”

“You told me something last night?” asked Spike, feigning ignorance. “Sorry, mate. Guess I didn’t put much stock in whatever it was that you said. Well, I’m off, then. You have fun with your shiny, new office. I’ll be in Sunnydale, taking care of my girls.”

*****

In the car, Buffy felt like she was flying out of control. She kept one hand on her seatbelt and one on the door handle, even though she knew full well that it wasn’t Spike’s driving that was bothering her. The anxious feeling was borne of exhaustion and the fact that too many things were changing around her. She didn’t know what to hold onto anymore or where to place her trust.

The uncomfortable silence in the car was partially masked by the sound of the windshield wipers. Buffy stared at the drops of water streaking across her window. Part of her wished Spike would go faster, though he was already breaking the speed limit – anything to get away from L.A. and everything Angel had told her. But it seemed no matter how fast Spike pushed the car, the unwelcome thoughts were still right behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a shaky breath.

“Look, pet,” said Spike when he heard her sigh, “I’ve obviously pissed you off somehow, so let’s just have it out, then.”

Before Buffy answered, she glanced back at Dawn, who appeared preoccupied with her Discman. “It’s not you I’m mad at,” Buffy told him. It was a partial truth, but that also made it a partial lie.

“Like hell,” replied Spike. “Is this because I left the hotel?”

She didn’t answer.

“I just stepped out for a bit,” he explained. “Needed to think some things through. Not an easy thing to do with Angel breathing down my neck, telling me to walk out on you and forget about the soul.” He turned to meet Buffy’s surprised gaze. “Guess he didn’t fill you in on that little bit, eh?”

“He mentioned it, but I guess he left out a few details,” she said quietly. “So where were you exactly?”

“Found a demon bar, had a few drinks. Got caught off guard when the sun rose.”

She licked her lips. “So you weren’t…”

Spike bit the inside of his cheek in aggravation. “If you’ve got something to say, love, just say it.”

In the backseat, Dawn sighed impatiently and yelled over her Discman. “She wants to know if you were out killing people, doofus. Get a freaking clue.”

Swearing under his breath, Spike hit the brakes and guided the car onto the shoulder of the freeway, ignoring the frantic honks from passing cars. “What are you doing?” Buffy snapped. “You’re gonna get us killed.”

“Outside,” he ordered. “Wanna talk to you.” Cutting the engine, he jabbed a finger at Dawn and said, “You stay put.”

“It’s raining!” argued Buffy. She was answered only with his car door slamming in her face. She looked back at her sister questioningly.

“Go easy on him,” said Dawn. “Remember, he has to drive home. We’d never make it in one piece if you had to get behind the wheel, so no maiming the vampire.”

Shaking her head, Buffy unfastened her seatbelt and got out of the car. Spike was standing behind the back bumper, glaring at her. She looked away, unable to hold his piercing gaze.

“What’s this all about now?” he asked. “One day we’re all snuggles and promises, and the next, I’m under suspicion of murder because I went for a bleeding walk. So let’s hear it, Buffy. What’s really wrong?”

She stared at the wet ground and whispered, “Your soul is gone.”

Spike nodded sardonically. “Yes, love. I’m well aware of that. I was the one who told you about it, remember?”

“I mean it’s gone for good,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

He stared at her, blinking away raindrops, a million things going through his mind. Was it true? Had his little stunt with the amulet really cost him a part of himself? He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit relieved, but he was also angered by the news. Not only had he fought for that soul, but he’d gotten it for her because it was what she wanted. What was this going to mean for them? She was already implying that he was out killing people. The delicate trust she’d placed in him was apparently gone.

“Oh, I get it now,” he said, nodding slowly. “Spike doesn’t have a chip and now he doesn’t have a soul. He must be out snacking on the stragglers at the edges of the crowd, all behind the Slayer’s back.”

“Are you?” she asked, beginning to shake as the rain soaked through her clothes. “You snuck off last night, after we fought. How do I know what you were doing out there?”

Spike felt gutted. “What the hell part of I love you don’t you understand? Oh, still thinking soulless vamps can’t love, is that it? God, Buffy – are we really back here, at this same argument? Have I not proven myself even a bit in all this time?”

She still refused to look at him. “I think I just need to … take a step back. To reassess.”

“Reassess, huh? Sounds a whole lot like telling me to shove off. I expect you’ll be calling me William in the next breath.”

“I didn’t say that. I just…”

Spike wasn’t listening anymore. “Just get in the fucking car, Buffy. I don’t want to hear anymore. God, Giles and Harris are just going to love this.”

*****

They made it back to Sunnydale in record time, hitting speeds that made Buffy want to sink to the floorboards and hide. But she didn’t say a word to Spike about it. When they reached Revello Drive, he cut the engine and handed her the keys. “Rupert’ll be wanting these back,” he said, the first words he’d spoken since their argument on the side of the road. “Make sure he gets them, yeah?”

Buffy frowned at him in confusion as he got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. She quickly followed and called out to him when she realized he was heading down the street, away from her house. “Wait – you’re not coming inside?”

Spike stopped and turned to face her. “Don’t really see any reason why I should.”

“So you’re just leaving, then?” she asked in disbelief.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m just gonna find somewhere else to crash, all right? Not really looking forward to the torches and pitchforks in there once you tell them about my soul.”

“I don’t have to tell them anything.”

“No, either you tell them or I will. Because guess what, pet?” He placed a hand in the middle of his chest. “This is me, and I’m sick of apologizing for it – sick of watching you apologize to your friends for it. Accept me or don’t, but you need to quit pretending you’re okay with what I really am because you’re obviously not. That’s something you’re gonna have to figure out on your own.”

She wavered there for a moment, taken back by his words. Part of her wanted to smack him upside the head and drag him inside with her, but something made her hesitate. He was right, she realized. Deep down, she really wasn’t okay with what he was – not with the promise of his soul’s return gone. “Don’t go far,” she whispered, feeling lost and confused. “Promise me you won’t?”

Spike shook his head and muttered, “You really don’t know me at all, do you, Slayer?” And with that, he turned and walked away. Buffy stared at his retreating form, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Behind her, Dawn dropped her suitcase on the driveway angrily. “God, Buffy. Why’d you do that? I mean … he was really trying, and you just dumped him for something he couldn’t help.”

Buffy’s gaze dropped to the wet pavement. “I didn’t dump him.”

“Um, yeah. You kinda did.”

“No, I didn’t. I just told him I needed some time to think things through. Would it be too much of a cliché to say it’s not him, it’s me?”

Dawn stared in the direction Spike had gone. “So his soul’s really gone, then? As in not coming back?” When Buffy looked her in surprise, she added, “Yeah, I overheard your fight on the freeway. You guys were kinda loud.”

“We’re not completely sure if it’s gone, but yeah. Looks like it.”

“Well, good. I’m glad it’s gone.”

“You do remember what he is, right?” asked Buffy. “What he’s done in the past?”

“Oh, I remember. But he’s trying to do something about it. He’s trying to make himself a better person. He didn’t have to try when he had the soul – it just happened automatically. There’s not really much merit in that, if you ask me.”

Buffy sighed as she pushed her hair behind her ears. “I get what you’re saying, Dawnie. But what Spike really is, is evil. What he’s capable of…”

“No, listen to me, Buffy. You’re biased against soulless vampires and with good reason. But you need to realize that Spike is different. I know what he’s capable of, and I’m not excusing it. But if he’s genuinely trying to do the right thing, don’t you think you should give him the chance to prove himself?”

“I just…I need to think, okay?” said Buffy dismissively. “I haven’t decided anything yet. It’s not like I expected this to happen – any of it. Spike losing his soul or us starting a relationship. It all happened so fast.” She blinked back sudden tears. “And I’m so tired, Dawnie. I’m tired, and I miss him already. And now he’s gone.”

Dawn touched the ends of her sister’s hair. “So go after him.”

Wiping her face, Buffy stared down the street that Spike had disappeared down. “I don’t think I can.”

*************

To be continued.

Part 13

Over the next week, Buffy slept more than she ever had in her entire life. It hadn’t occurred to her how exhausted she was from the long struggle against The First until she finally allowed herself to stop and rest. Once her head hit the pillow, she simply couldn’t stay awake for the better part of a week. She didn’t want to be awake. When she was asleep, she couldn’t see how big and empty her bed was with just her in it.

She tried not to think much about Spike – and succeeded in doing so, for a few days at least. But when she finally reached the point when she couldn’t sleep anymore, thoughts of him plagued her waking hours. There was a familiar ache burrowing into her chest – something she hadn’t felt since he’d left Sunnydale last spring. She missed him. Not only that, but she felt as if she shouldn’t miss him – and she didn’t know what to do about it. When thoughts of him grew too much for her to deal with, she finally emerged from the solitude of her room and dared to venture downstairs.

The house had been bursting with activity while she’d been in seclusion, most of which she’d been happy to ignore. Andrew and Dawn spent much of their time planning a new and improved Watcher’s Council on a felt-board in the basement – Andrew claimed he was aiming for a less corrupt version of the Starship Federation. Outside, the new Slayers had taken to training with Faith during the day and patrolling in pairs each night to ensure that the tattered remnants of The First’s army were truly under control. Sometimes Giles accompanied them, but more and more, he stayed behind to help Willow continue the research on the amulet. They’d been playing phone-tag with Wesley for the better part of the week. Buffy resisted the urge to tell them they were wasting their time.

There had been no word from him since they’d returned from L.A., but the new Slayers had spotted him around town. He’d helped them once or twice on patrol, lending his strength and experience. Giles had informed Buffy of this rather tentatively. “I’m not entirely sure that he’s feeding,” he’d told her. “It might be a good idea to bring him some blood, so that he doesn’t, well … slip.”

Buffy could understand what had Giles so worried – after all, a hungry vampire didn’t always use the best judgment – but she was reluctant to go herself. She had enough faith in Spike’s restraint to send Dawn to him with some blood – during the daylight hours when no stray Ubervamp might cross her path. Willow did a locator spell on Spike, and blood was donated from willing parties in the house.

“Giles was right,” Dawn told Buffy when she returned. “Spike hasn’t been eating. He’s starting to get all gross and skinny. What’s up with that? I know Sunnydale’s still pretty empty, but he could have found a way to get blood, even if it was from a butcher in another town.”

Buffy had a pretty good idea exactly what he was doing. “I think he’s trying to prove something to me. It’s a trust thing. But I think I’d be easier to convince if he wasn’t avoiding me.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Um, hello? Earth to dorkus? You sent me with the blood, remember? Apparently you’re not much on confrontation either. You should go see him, Buffy. I know he hasn’t come by himself, but I could really tell that he misses you.”

Buffy didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure what to think of the situation anymore. All she really knew was that she missed him, too – so much that it felt like a part of her was gone. Everything else was starting to fade to gray.

******

Sometime after nightfall, there was a sudden burst of activity in the living room where the research was taking place. Willow was talking animatedly on the phone with Giles sitting beside her, scribbling notes as he listened in on the cordless. Neither of them noticed Buffy as she came down the stairs, so she ducked outside onto the front porch, trying her best not to bring attention to herself. They were talking about Spike’s soul again – and that was one conversation Buffy was happy to avoid for the moment. It only made her sad and confused – as if she felt she should think one thing, but was instead feeling something entirely different.

Hugging herself, she stepped to the edge of the porch and stared out into darkness. A familiar voice came out of the shadows behind her. “Hey there, stranger. Come to clock in some brooding hours? Got your timecard right here.”

Buffy turned around and smiled at Xander. “Hey yourself. I haven’t seen you much lately. You’ve been all avoid-y.”

“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say we both have. Guess we’ve had our reasons.” He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets as he came to stand beside her. “So I, uh, heard about you and Spike. Or at least, I heard a lot of girly gossip about it.”

Buffy offered a guilty half-smile. “Yeah – me and Spike. Sorry you didn’t hear about it from me. Things have been so crazy, and it all happened so fast. But hey – if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure he and I aren’t together anymore. I think I really messed things up.”

Beside her, Xander remained quiet.

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Oh, come on, Xan. You know what comes next. This is the part where you tell me he’s no good for me, and I’m better off without him. I could make the speech for you, if you’d like.”

Xander shrugged. “I guess I don’t really know what to say. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, you know? Ever since Anya died.”

Buffy jolted at his words. She’d been so wrapped up in her own problems, she’d completely forgotten about Xander’s loss. “How are you doing with that?” she asked tentatively. “You okay?”

“Not so much, actually,” he replied with a bitter chuckle. “I really miss her, Buff. I thought it would get easier over time, but I swear it’s getting worse.”

Buffy touched the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m so sorry, Xander. She was…”

“…amazing, I know,” he finished for her. “And I should have told her that every chance I got. I just didn’t. Toward the end, she and I were getting it all wrong. We were still in love, I think, but neither of us would really admit it. The trust was gone.” He ran his fingers through his tangled hair, shifting from one foot to the other as if something deeper was bothering him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course you can. Question-answering Buffy, at your service.”

Shaking his head, Xander let out an oh-what-the-hell sigh and asked, “Do you love him?”

Caught off guard by his question, Buffy’s lips parted but no words came out.

When she didn’t answer, Xander continued. “I’m asking you this because I like to think I know you pretty well. And call me crazy if you like, but it seems to me like you’re head over heels for that Spike loser.” He stared hard at Buffy. “You need to tell him that.”

Unable to hold his gaze, Buffy let her own fall to the ground, unsure how to respond. Her throat began to grow tight and ache, and she hugged herself, trying to fight back the sudden wave of emotion.

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Xander. “I don’t like Spike, and I probably never will. I’m not telling you this because I think he needs to hear it – but because you need to say it. If something happened to him, and I hear something almost did, you’d never forgive yourself for not telling him how you felt. Trust me on that. If I had told Anya – even if it didn’t go anywhere – at least she would have known that she was loved.”

“She knew, Xander,” whispered Buffy, finding her voice. “I know she did.”

Xander seemed to take a bit of comfort in that. He nodded as if trying to reassure himself. “So do you?” he asked after a moment. “Love him, I mean.”

Buffy face crumpled with the threat of tears. “Would it make me a bad person if I did?” she asked in a small voice.

“God, Buffy,” said Xander, expression softening. “No. Granted, it might indicate that you’re a glutton for punishment.” Buffy laughed a little through her tears. “But no – you’re not a bad person.”

“I think I do love him,” she said, wiping at her cheeks. “No – I know I do. I have for a long time, and I just haven’t wanted to admit it. When he got his soul, I felt for the first time like I could trust him enough to let myself love him. The soul was like a failsafe, you know? But when he lost it, the feelings didn’t go away. If anything, they got stronger. It’s like I could see clearly for the first time how hard he tries to do the right thing.”

“Like how Anya tried, I guess,” said Xander. “But Buffy – I have to interject the obligatory warning here. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? I mean the guy almost raped you. I don’t get how you can just overlook that.”

“I’m not overlooking it,” she said. “But I am looking at the whole picture. Spike knew that what he had done was wrong, without the aid of a soul, and did something about it. That’s what I can’t seem to overlook. And he’s still making the right decisions, Xander. Even when I’m not there to see them, apparently.”

Xander rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna like watching you date hi- … oh God, I can’t even say it. I don’t have to say it, right?”

Buffy smiled and leaned up to kiss Xander’s cheek. “Thank you,” she said, hugging his arm. “For trying to understand. You have no idea what that means to me.”

“Yeah, well – enjoy it. I’m feeling strangely generous after the whole Anya-thing. There might be an intervention later. With sharp, pointy objects.” He glanced down at her, a serious expression on his face. “I am trying to understand, Buffy – but don’t expect me to stop watching your back. Kinda comes with the whole friendship package. He hurts you again and…”

“He’s different, Xander,” she said, cutting him off gently. “You’ll see.”

Before he could reply, the door of the house opened, and Willow popped her head out. “Buffy, good news!” she exclaimed, holding up the amulet.

“Good news?” asked Buffy. “There’s such a thing?”

“You and Wesley were right,” said Willow, nodding animatedly. “The soul is so put-back-able. Wesley’s scroll had a good chunk in the middle that was fabricated – though some of it was authentic. Those Wolfram and Hart people must have planted it for some reason or another. But anyway, all it takes are the right words and poof! We’ll have weepy, broody, possibly crazy Spike back in no time. Am I good or what?”

Taken off-guard by the news, Buffy tried for a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She wasn’t as pleased or relieved as she thought she would be. “The best.”

Willow’s brow furrowed in concern. “Oh, hey – you don’t look happy at all. What’s wrong? Xander hasn’t been telling more of his bad pirate jokes, has he?”

“No, I’m happy,” Buffy assured her. “I mean, the soul belongs to him, and it was kinda my fault that he lost it.”

“You seem to have that effect on vampires a lot, don’t you?” said Xander. Both girls turned and glared at him. “What? I’m just sayin’. So, um, how soon can we do this restore-a-soul thing? ‘Cause I’m thinking the sooner the better.”

“Well, we don’t even really need Spike here to do it,” said Willow, turning to Buffy. “We could take care of it right now if you want.”

Buffy frowned and shook her head. “No. That doesn’t seem right. This needs to be his choice – like it was the first time.”

“What?” Xander blinked. “Huh? There’s a choice? Okay, hand in the air if you think that’s a bad idea. See that? My hand’s in the air. What might that be telling you? Willow, feel free to jump in and help me out at any time.”

“No, I think Buffy’s got a point,” said Willow. “It should be his choice. And you know, Spike wasn’t all that bad when he lost his soul. I was the one who told him it was gone to begin with. I kinda expected Angelus Mach 2. You know, all grrrr, I’ve come for your goldfish. But he wasn’t. He was just … Spike.”

“Uh, the same Spike that kidnapped us both and tried to put a broken bottle through your face?” asked Xander.

“Please,” scoffed Willow. “If he was all fang-y and evil, we’d know already. He’s not the greatest at subtlety. And you know, even though the soul’s gone, I really kinda think it might have changed him. Either that or Buffy did. It’s weird, but you can tell just by looking at him. Even his aura’s different.”

Xander frowned. “There wasn’t a yellow crayon speech involved in this ‘changing’, was there? Because I so have that under copyright.”

“I’m just sayin’ that he wanted to get his soul back,” continued Willow. “I guess I know what it’s like to suddenly lose a grip on your conscience. Getting it back was the last thing on my mind. That says something, you know? He really loves you, Buffy, if he’s still interested in changing.” With a smile, Willow handed the amulet over to Buffy. “So would you get going already? You know where he’s at, right?”

Fingering the glittering amulet, Buffy nodded with a thoughtful smile. She did.

******

Part 14

Buffy knew it shouldn’t surprise her that Spike had returned to the house she’d broken into the week before – the same house where they’d slept together in each other’s arms for the first time – where he’d told her in no uncertain terms why he loved her. No, she shouldn’t be surprised at all that was where he chose to go.

He didn’t answer when she knocked, so she let herself in, tightening her grip on the amulet for reassurance. Though it was dark outside, she’d taken for granted that he would be there, at the house. The sudden idea that he might be out caught her off guard, and she felt disoriented and lost, almost sick with the disappointment. But when she entered the bedroom, her troubled expression softened. Spike wasn’t there, but his clothes were lying in a pile on the bed. She heard the shower running in the background and her shoulders released the tension they’d been clinging to. It was a relief to know he was close.

She sat down on the bed and picked up his t-shirt. The cotton was soft and inviting to her fingers, and she held it up to her face. God, she had missed being wrapped in that scent as she’d slept. Her heart ached at the reminder. They’d only spent a few days sleeping together in the same bed, but it was long enough for her to become accustomed to him being there. Falling asleep without him had been difficult enough, but not even having him in the same house when she woke up was almost unbearable. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to take comfort in his quiet presence until it was removed entirely.

Inside the bathroom, the shower cut off. A moment later, Spike emerged in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped loosely around his narrow hips. He tried not to let it show that he was surprised to find her there, but he was so transparent, she saw it anyway. He was indeed thinner than the last time she’d seen him, but it appeared as if he’d at least eaten what Dawn had brought him. The muscles in his body were tense and rigid, as if he was bracing himself for some kind of attack, and there was a deep sadness about him, particularly in his eyes. He didn’t look at her as he grabbed his jeans off of the bed and tugged them on. He looked strangely vulnerable and tired to her eyes, and a self-defeated air hung about him. Seeing him that way made her want to cry – she knew that she was responsible for putting that look on his face.

It really hit her then – how much she loved him. She was almost dizzy with it, lightheaded and breathless with the newness of it all, yet somehow aware that the feelings were anything but new. Admitting the truth to herself was the only thing that had changed. Did he know? Did he have any idea the kind of feelings that were spreading through her limbs, down into her trembling fingers, making her legs feel as if they were about to give way? How could he not? If he would just look at her, he would see the adoration swimming in her eyes, brimming over like tears. But he wouldn’t look – couldn’t see.

This is how he feels, she realized. This is how he’s felt for years. The raw desire, not necessarily for sexual fulfillment, but just to possess and be possessed by the person you adore above all others. Looking at him, she suddenly wanted his hands on her body, his mouth and his tongue melding against hers, their minds at peace as they rested in each other as one body – she just wanted to be close to him again. But there was an unyielding wall between them, so tangible Buffy felt as if she could reach out and touch it. She could see it on his face, his body, and even on his lips as she watched him struggle with the decision of whether to be the first to breach the silence.

She took the initiative and spoke first. “Hey,” she said, handing him his t-shirt.

He took it from her, flashes of various emotions playing across his features, then vanishing into careful indifference. He didn’t reply until he had completely dressed himself. “Hey.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in,” she told him, trying not to fidget as she got to her feet. Look at me, Spike, she thought. Please look at me. “I just wanted to check on you, I guess.”

“Don’t you mean check up on me?” he asked in an even tone, letting the wet towel drop to the floor. “Come to search the basement for bodies, I gather.”

“I didn’t say that,” she said softly, “and I never thought it.”

“Yeah? Call me skeptical.”

She hadn’t been prepared for bitterness – especially not now, when her feelings for him seemed so delicate and raw. She resisted the urge to take a step back from him. “I came to see you, Spike,” she whispered, feeling the familiar sting of tears.

He finally looked up at her then, and she saw the cold retort die on his lips. Concern spread over his features, slowly replacing the anger with something softer. “You been cryin’?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Buffy shifted self-consciously under his close scrutiny, hating how vulnerable she was feeling. It would be too easy for him to hurt her right now – the wrong word from him would inflict more damage on her now than he’d ever done to her physically. “A little bit,” she admitted dismissively, trying to detach herself. “Earlier. I’m okay now.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Something happen? Bit didn’t mention anything she when she came by. Just brought the blood.”

She bit her lip and shook her head, unable to vocalize what she wanted to say – unsure how he would respond if she did. “I just…” she stuttered. “Well, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you a lot.”

Spike’s countenance shifted at her quiet admission. He wavered in front of her for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond or wasn’t convinced by her sincerity. “Have you now?” he asked at last, in a cool tone. “Sure you just didn’t miss the idea of me being there?”

“I missed you, Spike,” she insisted, her voice becoming stronger as she struggled to build walls of defense around her fragile emotions. “I think you should come home.”

Again he seemed to waver on the brink of uncertainty. His eyes became unfocused, the way they did when he was growing angry and emotional, and he seemed to see past her. “Dunno what to tell you, love. Not exactly my home, is it?”

Her breath hitched and failed her. Knowing she was about to cry, she turned away. She hated the idea of him seeing her like that, especially when he was acting so coldly toward her. “Sorry you feel that way,” she said, retreating back into herself. “Look, coming here was obviously a bad idea. I’ll just go.”

He sighed sharply. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, reaching out to catch her by the crook of her arm before she could slip away. “C’mere, you. Don’t run away from me now.”

A gentle tug later, she was in his arms, caught in the first real hug they’d ever shared. The press of his body was solid, unyielding, and wonderfully overwhelming. The embrace was like a physical manifestation of his unchanging love for her, and she allowed herself to relax and take comfort in it. Wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, she buried her face into his chest, and he absorbed her trembling into his body. When she felt his kisses in her hair, she knew she was forgiven, but she whispered, “I’m sorry,” to him regardless.

“Quit your crying, now,” he said, nuzzling her gently. “No need for all that. Missed you, too.”

“Then why wouldn’t you come?” she asked miserably.

“Didn’t know if you wanted me to. Thought it best to stay away while you figured things out.”

“Yeah?” she said, hiccupping into his neck. “Well, you’re an idiot.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Pots and kettles, love.”

Their foreheads came to rest together, and she let out a sigh as her tears began to slow. “I am sorry, Spike. Really. I got so lost there for a while.”

“Wasn’t all your fault, pet. Not the easiest situation either.” His hand came up and he touched her face, thumbing away the wetness on her cheeks. “Worked through what you needed to, then?”

Leaning into his touch, she nodded. “I think so. No – I know I have. No more running away, Spike. I promise.”

“What’s this, then?” he asked, taking her hand gently within his. The chain of the amulet was wrapped around her wrist. Seeing it, he glanced up at her questioningly.

“News,” she said, a smile brightening her face. “Good news, even.” Tugging on his hand, she sat down with him on the edge of the bed and told him everything Willow and Giles had discovered about the amulet since their trip to L.A. But when she came to the part about Spike’s soul, his response wasn’t quite what she expected.

“Right,” he said, his voice thick with disappointment. “I get it now. Guess that’s why you suddenly came ‘round to find me, huh? Got the guarantee of my soul back.”

“What? No. That’s not it at all.”

He chuckled bitterly as he shook his head. “You know what? Fuck it. If it’s what you want, just tell me what I have to do.”

Buffy tilted her head as she regarded him. “You don’t want the soul back, do you?” she asked slowly, suddenly realizing the truth herself. “Dawnie said some things when we came back from L.A., kinda hinting that maybe you didn’t. But you never said anything to me about it. How come?”

“I dunno,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s complicated, you know? It’s not that I don’t want the soul back, exactly. Belongs to me, and it’s important to you. I know you put a lot of stock in it. But then sometimes I don’t understand why I have to get it back. I feel like I don’t really need it to do what I have to do. But that doesn’t matter. It’s what you want, innit?”

“So you’d do it … just for me? Why?”

“Why?” he echoed in disbelief. “Because I love you, you daft cow.”

A laughing smile spread across her face. “I can tell. Especially when you call me names.”

“I’m serious, Buffy. I don’t think you get it. I love you. You make me want to be a better man. And if being a better man requires having a soul, then that’s what I have to do.”

“I’m not really sure that’s what having a soul means anymore.” She reached and touched his lips with the tips of her fingers. “I still love you without it, you know.”

He flinched away from her hand. Darted his eyes away. It took him a moment to find his voice. “Buffy, that’s sweet and all, but you don’t have to lie to me to make this easier. I know what I have to do. Done it before, haven’t I?” He reached for the amulet, but Buffy closed her hand over his before he could do anything with it.

“Please listen to me,” she said, staring him dead in the eyes. “I’m not lying. Don’t do this because you think I don’t love you without a soul.”

He seemed close to tears. “Please,” he said, voice cracking with emotion. “For a long time there, you could barely look at me with a soul. I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Spike, I love you. I love you right now, like this.” She put her hand on his chest. “I love you with the soul, and I love you without it. I love you now, fighting against your nature. You told me once you loved the way I try. Who do you think I learned it from? I don’t love you because you love me, or because of what you give me. I love who you are.” Spike started when he heard her echo the words he’d told her days ago in that very room. “I don’t care about the soul, Spike. I thought I did, but the more I think about it, the more irrelevant it becomes. I just want you.”

Her words hung in the air for a long time. She held his hand, rubbing slow circles across his palm with her thumb as she watched him take in what she’d just told him. His eyes were puffy and swollen with the threat of tears, and he was reluctant to look at her. It was obvious he didn’t believe her, though he didn’t say as much. “What do you want me to do?” he whispered at last.

“I’m not asking you to do anything, Spike,” she said, pressing the amulet into his chest, where it had once burned him. “Your soul is yours now – as it should be. You’re free to do what you want with it. It’s your choice. And Spike, I’m still gonna be here either way, okay? If you still want me here.”

He finally looked at her then, and gave her a scowl that clearly said, ‘Are you really that stupid’?

She pushed him back onto the bed and crawled over him, smiling as his hands came to rest on her waist, steadying her as she straddled his hips. His eyes were almost black in the dimness of the room, lidded with thick lashes, and she feathered light kisses over each of them, hoping to soothe away the tattered remains of his doubt. “I love you,” she whispered between kisses. “I know you don’t believe me, Spike, but I’m going to keep saying it until you do – no matter how long it takes. Worked for you, didn’t it?”

His eyes shined with a mixture of distrust and hope. “I’m yours, Buffy. You know that. Do what you want with me.”

“I don’t want some ‘willing slave’,” she said, touching the tip of her nose lightly against his. “We’re on level ground here. No one’s beneath the other.”

“If we’re all equal and whatnot, then why, pray tell, do you have me pinned to the bed?” He flashed her a mischievous smile, one hand curving against her hip. “Not that I mind.”

“This,” she noted, returning the smile, “is just for starters.”

Buffy lowered her face to his – first tasting his upper lip, then the lower – running her tongue along the sensitive skin she found there. They began to kiss in earnest – tentatively at first, trying to find a comfortable rhythm, then with growing hunger. Fisting her hair, Spike pushed her back, flat onto the mattress and rolled on top of her, molding his hands along the underside of her breasts. She moaned into his mouth, arching her hips up to press into his.

They stayed in bed for the rest of the night – kissing, touching, discarding clothing that got in the way. In the end, it seemed to both of them that as satisfying as the sex was, it was secondary to the intimacy and trust established by their union.

“Spike?” she asked, hours later as she tangled her fingers through his hair. He lifted his head up from her breast, his expression lazy but attentive. “Have you decided?” she asked, running her thumb over his lower lip. “What you want to do about your soul?”

He kissed the pad of her finger. “Yeah. Think I have.”

“Gonna let me in on that decision any time soon?”

He reached up to touch her trusting smile. And then he kissed her.

*********

The end.







A/N – I think it was important to leave the ending open. It’s not my intention for it to be anti-climatic or to leave the readers hanging. What was important to me was not whether Spike had a soul or not, but if Buffy could love and trust him either way. If you think Spike is more complete with his soul, then that’s how the story ended. If you think he doesn’t need it, then the story ended that way. Hope you enjoyed the ride. :)

I put a lot of myself into this story and would love to hear some feedback -- especially from you lurkers! (I see you!)