Putting the Question
Chapter Five

For the second night in a row, Spike caught only a few hours of sleep. After his meal with Buffy, he had been both morose and murderous. He had headed out to patrol, meeting Gunn in Echo Park. Thankfully, the other man had realized pretty quickly that Spike wasn't in the mood to talk; an impression that was underscored when Spike ripped apart a Gwynnega with his bare hands. After that, Gunn hadn't said anything more than necessary, and they had headed back to Wolfram and Hart in the early hours of the morning.

Spike knew that he had kept going much longer than was needed on patrol, but violence was the only outlet that would help unspool the knot of emotions that was tangled up in his middle. This should have been his dream come true: Buffy, open with him, saying she had missed him, that she was happy he was alive, that she loved him and wanted a relationship with him. But what if they were just words? What if she was only suffering from her adjustment to 'normal' life, and wanted something to cling to, or more correctly, someone? He had done that before, and he didn't know if he could bear the thought of being everything to her, for a while, only to be cast aside as nothing.

When he opened his eyes, he stared at the ceiling for a few long moments. He was in new territory, and while he normally was one to just dive in and fight his way out, he didn't think that was the right strategy in this case. Because if he wasn't able to get through this, he'd be the one broken and blue.

With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed, feeling dazed from the lack of sleep and the questions that kept bothering him. He showered, and barely noticed what clothes he pulled on. He distractedly drank some blood, and then buried himself in work. Translating brittle, crumbling documents engaged his mind enough to get some perspective on his thoughts.

From Buffy's words last night, he got the sense that she was only now starting to figure out how she wanted to live her life. And she had seemingly decided that she had to have a relationship to make her life settled. She always seemed to be striving for love, comittment; in the years he'd lived in Sunnydale, he could remember only a handful of months where she wasn't involved with anyone, even if 'involved' was one way to describe their relationship at times. So, she wasn't used to being alone, and on top of the upheaval of being one of many Slayers, it wasn't surprising that she'd decided to latch onto a guy, any guy. Who better than the one who'd always loved her, no matter what? Heady stuff for someone who was always insecure when it came to love.

'But what about her words last night? About those moments right before the Hellmouth was closed?' his mind prodded him. 'She said she saw your soul--she said I love you!'

As much as his heart wanted to give in to the swell of feeling, his logic kept overruling it. He'd realized, in the last year, that his heart was so bruised that it only seemed to react in set patterns. Trying not to fall fast and deep was nearly impossible once he had started. So, he had started making his mind play a greater role in these times. And in this case, his mind was screaming at him to stay out of this. Let Buffy figure out things without him, make her stand on her own two feet, rely on her other friends.

'Then you're no better than Rupert,' his heart chided. 'That's just what he did. You'd leave her to those friends who weren't able to help her before, let her sink under all those responsibilities and burdens?'

"More than I've ever had," Spike grumbled out loud, before forcing his concentration back to the documents and the translation.

He dreaded the evening. Spending the night with Buffy and Angel wasn't his idea of a fun time in the best of situations, and this certainly was the worst of situations. He wondered how Buffy was going to act. Would she make a play for Angel since he'd given her the brush-off? What if Angel took her up on the offer? And why was he worrying about this? At most, he wanted to be friends with Buffy, and Angel and he had reached a tentative relationship in the last year. So wouldn't he want them to be happy together?

Spike shook his head as he headed to Angel's office, where everyone was meeting. The whole gang was participating in this one, so at least he'd have other people around. Of course, that could be a draw-back, too, he realized as he realized he was the last one to arrive.

Buffy gave him a look of longing and sadness, poignant despite its briefness. He felt his throat tighten, almost as if there were words that were prevented from being said. Things like "I love you and want you and will do whatever I can to make you happy." But instead of saying anything, he forced himself to break eye contact with Buffy and take in the other people in the room.

Fred looked sympathetic, and gave him a small wave. Gunn nodded at him, and Spike made his way over and sat next to him on the sofa. Wes had his normal blank expression, but Angel hadn't troubled to hide his emotions. He glared at Spike, and Spike wondered how much Buffy had talked to him about last night's dinner.

Thankfully, Angel only spent a few moments keeping them in suspense, before he started talking. "Spike," he said, his voice clipped, "give us all an update on what you've done to stop the Rite of Peesu-Brat from going ahead."

Spike moved forward, feeling exposed but trying to keep focused on the job. "We've patrolled the area the last two nights, and kept at least five girls from being rounded up. Based on my sources, they're still shy a few sacrifices, but they're determined and probably will be able to make their quota. So stopping the ritual itself is now the goal. What I'd suggest doing is an undercover operation. I've got a Spewriter who's willing to work with me. I'd come to the ritual, using Fred as a 'sacrifice,' saying I was bringing her in to pay off a debt to the Spewriter. Meanwhile, the rest of you would take up defensive positions on the fringes. At my sign, we'll attack the various leaders and prevent them from doing the spells that they need to cast at a specific time. It'll be about distraction and incapacitation, and then killing. Most of these demons are fairly peaceable, and they don't give us trouble otherwise."

Angel nodded. "I don't like the idea of Fred being the bait, though. Seems too dangerous for her. What about using Buffy?"

"Um, as the choice for potential sacrifice, can I just say that I can take care of myself?" Fred interjected.

Gunn shook his head. "Have to agree with the boss on this one. It's just too risky, Fred."

Fred stared at Gunn, her eyes narrowed. "You know what I'm capable of, Charles. I can do this."

Spike looked back and forth between Fred and Gunn. He got the sense that there was more to this than meets the eye, but before he could ask anything, Angel stepped in. "Look, Fred, we all know you're a good fighter, but in this situation, I think the Slayer would be a better choice. Buffy?"

Buffy had kept her eyes on the floor during the discussion, but at this point, she quietly looked up at Angel and said, "If Spike is all right with it, I'll do it."

Spike gaped at Buffy, surprised at how she hadn't immediately leaped forward to do what Angel had requested. When he realized that everyone was waiting for his answer, he quickly said, "Um, yeah, fine by me."

Angel pushed back from his desk and stood up. "All right then. Let's get going."

Spike followed the group out of the office and down to the parking garage. He chose to ride with Gunn and Wes. For a moment, it seemed like Buffy would choose their car, but after some hesitation, she sat behind Fred in Angel's car. Spike gave a small sigh when he climbed into the passenger seat of the car.

As they drove to the site of the ritual, he could feel Wes's eyes on the back of his head. He was about ready to say something, when Gunn casually asked, "You okay with all this, Blondie?"

Spike shrugged. "Got a job to do. I'll get it done, and then I won't have to see her again."

"Well, I was talking more about the way that Angel pushed you aside in there, but I'm guessing that's not what you were thinking about," Gunn commented dryly.

"Look," Spike said, his voice hard. "She's just a girl I once knew. And I've spent too long making something for myself here to throw it away for some girl who's never been able to make up her mind. First she wants me, then I'm disgusting. She's happy, then she's sad. Worse than a bloody see-saw. And I'm not willing to go for another ride and follow her halfway around the world."

Wes spoke from the backseat. "You're certainly very insistent about staying here."

"Yeah, how do you know you'd have to leave? Maybe the Slayer's willing to settle down," Gunn said.

"End of discussion," Spike said angrily. "You don't know what's going on, so you're just interfering where you're not needed."

"All right, Spike," Gunn said. But despite his agreement, Spike couldn't help feeling that Gunn wanted to press the issue. Spike sighed, and stared out the window, trying to project an anti-social vibe as they finished the drive to Echo Park.

The evening was cool and breezy, as L.A. in early November usually was. They gathered at the edge of the park, and Spike spoke quietly, refusing to let Angel take this over. "All right, Slayer's with me. Fred and Angel, take position on that ridge up there," gesturing to a rise covered with trees. "Gunn, you take position towards the south, and Wes, you're on the eastern boundary. When I give the signal, start taking out the demons at the compass points; they're the ones who will be casting the spells. The Slayer and I will take out the ones in the middle and will work on getting the sacrifices out of here. We'll send the girls up towards Angel and Fred, so you guys will need to provide some cover for them. Everyone good?" Answered with nods, Spike said, "Okay, let's go."

The others dispersed to their positions, leaving Spike alone with Buffy. He took a deep breath before speaking. "You gonna be able to do this?"

Buffy didn't say anything for a moment, then she lifted her chin and looked at him defiantly. "I know how to work with people I'm upset with. Otherwise, the First Evil would be running the show now, wouldn't it?"

Spike sighed, feeling embarrassment and regret. "I know that. I . . . " His voice trailed off, when he realized he just didn't know what to say. He muttered, "Come on, let's get this started," he said, holding up a trick set of handcuffs to bind her hands behind her. Buffy let him cuff her, but he could tell she was trying not to think about the other times he'd shackled her. Because he was certainly trying very hard not to think about the same thing.

He placed his hand on her shoulder and lead her forward, into the mass of demons. Buffy whispered to him, "Just how many are we going to have to take out?"

He said out of the corner of his mouth, "Six; two in the middle and four on the compass points. All the bystanders, innocent and otherwise, make it a bit tricky. But remember, it's just about keeping the ritual from being completed."

She nodded, and rolled her shoulders a bit. He marveled, as her muscles moved, at how small she was and how much strength she had. The more fragile she looked, the more focused she was on unleashing her power when she could.

They moved through the park, and without questions entered the area set aside for the ritual. Spike was amused to see that the demons had gotten a permit to use the park for the event. Spike made contact with the Spewriter he had worked with, and Buffy was lead over to join a large group of girls. Spike tried to make it look like he was hanging around, observing things. He stole a glance at his watch, and realized the spells would be starting in only a few moments.

Suddenly, Buffy was at his side. "What the hell are you doing?" he whispered to her.

She smiled weakly at him. "I told myself I wouldn't do this, but I just have to." She paused, and then looked directly at him. "I love you." Before he could respond, she quickly scampered back over to join the rest of the victims.

He stared after her, as his brain suggested several reasons for her actions. But before he had a chance to ponder the situation anymore, he heard a murmured chant begin, and realized it was time. With a lightning-fast move, he ran towards the nearest warlock and quickly started punching him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gunn come towards the ritual space, and he thought he spied Fred wielding a crossbow from the ridge. He heard Buffy's voice, directing the girls out of the area. But all his attention was focused on the crowd of demons swarming around him. Most of them were crap fighters, but going up against twenty-five assorted demons was still an undertaking.

He threw punches and kicks, feeling his blood sing each time he made contact. This was what he was about. Violence, terror, the shouts of "It's Spike!" And even better, he knew he was doing this to protect people. This was what he had missed out on when he hung on the fringes of the Scooby Gang. He'd never really been able to let it loose and not worry about losing the respect of the people fighting with him. Before, if he had acted like this, he'd have Xander screaming that he'd gone evil, or Willow threatening him with some spell. Now, though, he could unleash it, and just as easily, tuck it away and go back to W&H for a movie night.

This was what he didn't want to give up for Buffy.

As if his thoughts had drawn her to him, he realized the Slayer had moved into a position behind him, and was easily dealing with a group of assorted demons. Within a few minutes, their opponents had been knocked out or run off. With a grin, he turned to Buffy.

The Slayer was panting a bit, but she didn't even have a scratch on her. "All right, Buffy?" he said, the left-over adrenaline making him bounce on his toes.

She nodded. "Just fine. Wow, that was fun. Low-risk yet still a good fight. Like low-impact aerobics."

He chuckled a bit. "Glad to know we helped keep you in shape," he said, as Gunn, Wes, and Angel met up with them. "You lot all right?" he asked the others.

"Fred's organizing getting all the girls home. Most live in the area, so I thought Gunn and Wes could help her with walking or driving them home. I need to go back to the office," Angel said.

"Good," Spike said. "Slayer, you want to head back over to Wolfram & Hart with Angel? I better stay and help with the clean-up."

The smile that had been on Buffy's face dimmed considerably. "Um, all right, I guess. I probably should pack some."

"See you later, then," he said, and loped off towards the wooded area on top of the hill. He heard Wes and Gunn follow him after a few moments, and then Gunn caught up with him.

"Putting her out of your mind, or just running away from her?" he questioned.

"Sod off," Spike retorted, and Gunn wisely kept his mouth shut.

Spike groaned in relief when he arrived back at Wolfram and Hart. The clean-up had taken longer than he had thought it would, complicated by quite a few of the girls being traumatized by the events. Calming them down had taken a lot out of him, and considering he had barely gotten any sleep for the last two nights, all he wanted was his bed.

He pulled up short, when he reached his door, and saw Buffy leaning against the wall. "Slayer, it's late, and I'm tired. I know you're not leaving till tomorrow afternoon, so can we postpone the goodbyes till then?"

She pushed away from the wall and shook her head. "I'd rather not. In fact, I was hoping we could get out of here, go talk some."

"Slayer, you seemed to indicate last night that you were gonna wait for me to come running back to you. So why the puppy dog routine?"

She shrugged. "Lots of reasons. I've always sucked at being patient. Besides, I think I'm just taking a page out of your book: I'll be a nuisance until you pay attention to me."

"Is that what you think I did?" he said. "Decided to torment you until you had to admit you loved me? 'Cause it worked so well for me."

Buffy bit her lip. "Spike, I'm just asking for a bit of time. I know you're tired. If you give me this now, I'll leave tomorrow without insisting on the 'big goodbye scene'."

He grumbled, "Just trying to get me while I'm in a weakened state," but tilted his head and made an 'after you' gesture towards the elevator.

In the elevator, Buffy turned to him. "Is there some place nearby that we can get some coffee? Maybe something to eat?" He nodded, and that seemed to satisfy Buffy. They made the trip to the ground floor of W&H, and then down the block to a small coffee shop that Spike had discovered not long after he had become corporeal.

Inside, he pulled off his jacket and ordered just coffee, while the Slayer requested the breakfast special. He leaned back in the booth and sipped his coffee while the Slayer plowed into her food.

"You're hungry," he commented, as she used her toast to mop up the last of her fried egg.

She nodded. "I didn't eat much today."

"Not smart, Slayer," he said. "Need to keep your strength up. Was glad to see you had gained some weight when you showed up here."

Buffy finished the last of her home fries without replying to his comment, and set her fork down on the table. "I had an interesting talk with Angel on the way back to the office."

Spike sighed. "What did Angel have to say?"

"Not much. Pretty close to his usual spiel. 'I love you but we can't be together.' 'Spike isn't to be trusted, despite the good things he's doing here.' 'He really seems to be over you.'" She crossed her arms over her chest. "He seemed pretty convinced. And determined to convince me, too, that you could care less about me."

He shook his head. "I'll always care about you, Slayer. Just don't want to be in love with you. I don't want to walk down that road again."

"Well, he seemed to certainly want me to think otherwise. I think he was hinting around that I should just admit that what Angel and I had would always be the prize in the Cracker Jack box o' love. That someday, we could be together again." She leaned forward, propping her chin up on her hands, her elbows on the table. "What do you think, Spike?"

Spike stared at her, perplexed at the direction this conversation was taking. "What? You want me to give you advice about you and the Poof?"

"You know, that's the first time you've said something mean about Angel since I arrived," Buffy noted. "Up till now, you were rather civil to him. Yes, Spike, I was wondering if you could give me some advice. We are friends, after all, according to you. Or are you now starting to believe what you said before, that you can never be friends with an old lover?"

Spike shook his head, frustration and anger making his words clipped. "I only said that you and Angel could never be friends. That's not what I wanted for us. I want to be able to help you out, be an ear for you." He paused, and the anger took over. "But if you think I'm going to give you advice on you and that hair-gelled ponce, you're crazier than I ever was. No, thank you."

"Okay," Buffy said, picking up her spoon and stirring the last bit of her coffee.

A silence fell over the table, as Spike once again marveled at his inability to understand Buffy. At times like these, he realized that Dru, for all her insanity, was remarkably straight-forward.

"I didn't believe him," Buffy said quietly. She looked up at him briefly, and then back down at her coffee cup. "I think he knew how I felt, and he was making a last-ditch effort. For Angel, the thought of losing me to you seems worse than just losing me."

"He doesn't have anything to worry about," Spike said tiredly. "Did you tell him that?"

Buffy shrugged. "Does it matter? He knows how I feel, so it's irrelevant whether you reciprocate or not."

"And just how do you feel?" Spike asked in frustration. "You say you love me. But how? When? Clue in the guy who's been out of your life for the last year."

"It's not like it happened while we were apart," she said slowly. "I knew before the last battle."

"When did you know? When you were snogging Angel?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, actually. I mean, sure, kissing is always nice. But . . . I knew. He wasn't the one I wanted to kiss. And as soon as it was done, I knew who I wanted to kiss. But I wasn't about to tell Angel that I loved you, before I told you. And besides, I meant what I said to him. I needed to spend some time baking. And I've had that time, and now I know I'm ready to be a cookie."

"Huh?" Spike said, feeling thorougly confused.

"Never mind," Buffy said, waving her hand. "The point is, I know who I want. And yes, I knew a long time ago, and I could have picked a better time to tell you. But, Spike, you remember how it was," she said softly. "I kept telling myself that I'd talk to you after it was all over. Because if I didn't give myself something to look forward to, I didn't know if I could keep it all together." Her voice broke, but she continued. "So when we were in the Hellmouth, and we were holding hands . . . I realized that there wasn't going to be an 'after.' I had to tell you then. And I even know why you didn't believe me then. But please don't tell me that you still don't believe me."

Spike looked at her, at her green eyes, large and bright with unshed tears. She was biting her lower lip, and her hands were clenched together, resting on the table. He was just so amazed by the changes in her. It didn't seem possible that this trembling girl was the same stone-faced general that had lead her massively out-numbered and under-trained army of girls into a Hellmouth and come out on top. Yet despite her emotions getting the better of her, she was still looking directly at him, her chin raised, not giving any ground. She was holding fast, determined to make him believe her.

And God help him, he did.

Spike sighed deeply. "I believe you."

Buffy let loose a small squeak of surprise, but kept staring at him. Her stare unnerved him, and he quickly started speaking. "I'm not saying I want a relationship with you, mind. I'm just saying . . . that what you said, I believe that you mean it. And . . . and it's good to hear."

Buffy nodded slowly, before snapping out of her trance-like state. "Thank you, Spike."

At that, another silence fell between them, heavier and full of questions and emotions. He stared at the table, out the window, at the waitress who was skimming through a newspaper, anywhere but at her. Finally, he blurted out the first thing he could think of.

"So, what are your plans now?"

Buffy's mouth opened, then closed. "Um, I had thought some about going back to school. Don't need to worry so much about dying young, especially since I've already done it twice, you know, so school seems like a better investment now. I was thinking about studying psychology . . . I liked the class I took with Dr. Walsh, before she turned out to be evil, which I'm sure you remember," she said, her forehead furrowed. "Plus, I really liked my work with the students at the high school. So maybe I'll go into counseling. Most of the time it's just sitting and listening, and I can do both of those things pretty well. When I'm not babbling, I mean, like right now," she said with a grimace.

"No, I asked for a reason," Spike said. He was trying to put together the puzzle pieces. Maybe he hadn't been right, when he thought Buffy was latching onto him to keep herself from drowning. "Do you know where you want to go?"

"It's a bit up in the air right now. Dawn's pretty settled in England, and she's nearly eighteen. She'd like to stay with Willow and Giles until college, so if I wanted to, I could move back to the States and I wouldn't have to worry too much. I mean, more than I naturally would. I prefer it over here; I'm tired of all the rain. I was kinda thinking about Arizona, maybe Florida. Warm, you know."

"Not California?" Spike commented.

She shook her head rather emphatically. "San Francisco is too cold and rainy. Just like England, really. And as for L.A. . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she spun her coffee cup around on its saucer. "I was waiting till after I left here to really decide. But I thought that it might be uncomfortable to be so close."

Spike swallowed, and didn't ask for more information. He had a good idea what she meant. She looked up at him at this point, her eyes curious. "So what about you? Fred told me about how you were all ghost-like for a while, and then one day, bam, solid!Spike. Are you still stuck in L.A.?"

"Nope. Found that out pretty quickly," Spike said. "Just so you know . . . I didn't think of you immediately. But damn soon thereafter. And I was going to go haring off to Europe to find you, but I had to stay because of trouble here. Then, whenever I started getting ready to go, something else would come up. After a while, I started thinking that maybe it wasn't that I couldn't leave, but that I shouldn't leave. Maybe I was here for a reason."

Buffy looked at him with a steadfast gaze. "You've never really seemed to believe in fate or prophecies," she said. "What changed your mind?"

Spike shrugged. "Long story. Basically, I started realizing that being souled, like Angel, changed things around a bit in the cosmic scheme of things. And I wanted to get to the bottom of it all. Staying here in Los Angeles seemed the best way to find out what was going on. So I stayed."

"And you got over me," Buffy said quietly.

Spike nodded. "And I got over you."

"Maybe that was what you were here for," she said. "Maybe you had to bake, just like me."

"Still confused by the whole baking analogy, pet," Spike said dryly. "But if I have the gist of things, perhaps you're right. Had to spend some time finishing what I started in Sunnyhell, thanks to the Principal and all. Learn how to be my own man, finally." He flashed a small grin at her. "It's only taken me about a hundred and thirty years. Makes one wonder how those of you with shorter lifespans manage to mature at all."

Buffy grinned back at him. "Well, some of us are less mature than others," she said.

The grins felt good, Spike realized. They had run the gamut of emotions during their talk, and it was time for them to relax a bit. It had gone better than he ever would have expected, to be honest. He had expected Buffy to start insisting, after he confessed he believed her, that he had to still be in love with her. Yet though she seemed sad at his decision, she wasn't pushing him, wasn't trying to call the tune. Perhaps she really had started to grow up.

The waitress waddled over to their booth, and asked if she could refill their coffee, but after a glance at Spike, Buffy declined for the both of them. The waitress nodded, dropped their check on the table, and headed back to the counter.

"Well, I guess this is it," he said softly. "What time do you leave tomorrow?"

"Have a flight leaving LAX around 7," she said. "With security being what it is, not to mention traffic, I'll be leaving for the airport around four."

Spike nodded. "Well, come on, pet, let's pay the bill and shove off."

She sighed, and said, "All right. I'll take care of this one," she said, picking up the check.

"No, I can take it--have money of my own, you know. Got Angel to finally agree to give me a paycheck," he said with a smirk.

"Nah, I've got it," she said. "Next time I'm in town, though, you'll treat." She paused. "That is, if you'd like to have dinner with me, the next time I visit."

He chose not to think too much about how he was already excited for that future dinner, and answered her question with a joke. "As long as you keep in touch before you return, just so I know we're still on."

Buffy smiled a little, and then headed over to the register. They headed out of the coffee shop, and Spike noticed that dawn wasn't far away. He could smell the sun, feel that small itch in his bones that would grow more insistent, reminding him to seek shelter. But for now, he was happy to slowly walk back to W&H, Buffy silent at his side. They took the elevator upstairs, and Buffy said, "I'm going to go crash on the couch in Fred's office." She looked at him for a moment, and then, as if she was building up her courage, said softly, "Can I give you a hug? I know it's silly to ask, but I feel like it's the right thing to do."

Spike smiled at her. "Sure, pet," he said, holding his arms away from his body. With a quiet exhalation, Buffy wrapped her arms around his body, and he held her tightly. He closed his eyes, and remembered that dance he'd had with Harmony, when he had thought about how good it felt to hold a woman. Nobody had ever felt as good as Buffy felt to him right now.

All too soon, the moment was over, and she stepped away from him. "I'll be calling you soon," she said, pasting a bright smile on her face. "I'll call you at inconvenient times, and claim it's because I can't figure out the time change. But really it'll be because I want to annoy you."

He laughed a bit with her, but he could see the tinge of sadness in her eyes. He wondered if his own eyes reflected the bittersweetness he felt, too. "I'm looking forward to it, Buffy." He was struck with an impulse, and instead of questioning it, he went for it. He leaned down, brushed a kiss across her cheek, and said, "Bye, Slayer."

When he drew back, he could see tears in her eyes again, but they both ignored them. "See you soon, Spike," she said with another too-bright smile, before she turned and headed towards the lab.

Spike shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and slowly walked to his office. The burden of exhaustion he carried seemed light compared to the feelings that were dragging him down. But he was too tired to think about such things right now. Once in his room, he dropped his jacket on the floor, toed off his shoes, and then dropped face-down on his bed. He fell into sleep, and his last memory was of how soft her cheek had been beneath his lips.

End, Chapter 5

Putting the Question
Chapter Six

It wasn't until mid-morning of the next day that Spike's doubts started pummeling him. At first, he had managed to keep his thoughts off that pivotal conversation with Buffy. He had even managed to finally finish the translation he'd been struggling with, and had presented it to Wes and received a bit of praise for his work. He had been coming back from Wes' office, prepared to work on the next order of business, when he caught a glimpse of Buffy as he walked past Angel's office.

He didn't go inside; they had said their goodbyes last night, and really, what else was there to say? He had admitted that he believed she loved him, and she knew that he didn't want a relationship with her. They had parted as friends. There was nothing more to say.

His heart seemed to disagree with that assessment, and provided several choices as to what he could say. 'I love you.' 'I'm in love with you.' 'I want to be with you for as long as I can.'

He shook his head in frustration, nearly stomping his way back to his office. He made himself work on the most detail-oriented task in his inbox--an inventory of demons known to have frequented the Los Angeles area in the last six months, and their security risk--to keep his mind from wandering. Yet he still kept getting flashes of things. Like Buffy's eyes, when she was waiting for his confession. And her hands, playing with the coffee cup. The way her back arched as she executed a flip. The way her lips curved up into a smile, a real smile where her eyes lit up with happiness.

Spike groaned and leaned back in his chair. Before he could do anything else, a knock sounded on his door. Hoping for once that his karma was giving him a break, he called out, "Come in."

Gunn poked his head around the door. "Hey. Angel wants to take all of us, including a certain Slayer, out to lunch. You in?"

Spike shook his head, and tried to adopt a distracted manner. "No, I'm buried with work since I had to take all that time to prep for the ritual last night."

Gunn nodded slowly, and then said, "You're avoiding her again."

Spike looked up at Gunn. "No, I'm not avoiding her. We said our goodbyes last night, so there's really nothing more to say."

"Uh-huh," Gunn said, his voice skeptical. He stepped into the room, and closed the door. "You want to try that again?"

"Guess you're not buying it, huh?" Spike conceded.

"Not in the least," Gunn said. He crossed over and picked up the phone, and then said, "Yeah, Angel, Spike can't make it, and actually, I'm gonna stay and talk to him about an upcoming project I need some assistance on. Give the Slayer my regards."

He dropped the phone back on the cradle, took off his suit jacket and laid it on the sofa, then sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. "You ever know that Fred and I dated?"

Spike moved the stack of papers out of his lap and dropped them on the side table. "No, I didn't. Although I wondered what was going on between you two during the meeting yesterday."

"Thought you'd have picked up on that," Gunn said. He sighed. "We went out for about a year, I guess. And at first, it was great. Like something out of a movie. We were like two kids. But I had lived on the streets, and Fred had spent five years in Pylea. We had both grown up fast, so when we got involved, it was like some great first love. We were so disgusting together, that Cordelia once said if she was a diabetic, she'd go into sugar shock if we were around." Gunn smiled nostalgically.

"I'm guessing things didn't turn out so well?" Spike questioned, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"Nope," Gunn said. "We found out that a professor that Fred had idolized had been the one who opened the portal that sent her to Pylea. She wanted revenge, naturally, but I didn't want her to do it. I thought that it would break something in her, to take that kind of action. But she went ahead, and she was set to take that step. She had him open a portal, and was all ready to make him jump. And I stepped in, broke the guy's neck, and tossed him in."

"That was the end?" Spike asked in concern.

"We'd been having problems anyway," Gunn said. "But that put the proverbial nail in the coffin, if you'll excuse the pun." He leaned back on the sofa. "So you wanna tell me what happened last night? When exactly did you say these goodbyes?"

Spike slouched down deeper into the cushions of his chair. "She was waiting for me when I got back here last night. She asked me to go talk with her somewhere, and said if I did, she'd let me off the hook today. So we went to that place around the corner, and we talked some." He paused, and then went ahead and said it. "I told her that I believed her."

"Believed what?" Gunn asked.

"That she loves me."

Gunn sat up with a start. "What? Why the hell aren't you dancing for joy? Or, for that matter, dancing on the mattress? I thought that was what you wanted."

"That was what I wanted once! Not now!" Spike said angrily, before he got up and began pacing around the room. "If she had said that to me two years ago, a year ago, I would have thought I'd dust from the happiness. To finally know that she was mine, after all those years of wanting her, loving her . . . " He paused, and imagined how things might have turned out if things had worked out that way. Who knows where he'd be now? With Buffy, hopefully, but there were no guarantees. One of them, both of them, could be dead now. They could have broken up just as badly as they did before. But the idea that they could have been together still, happy, in love . . .

It was a sweet thought. Spike wrenched his mind from such temptation and resumed pacing. "I've worked too hard to put myself together this last year. I'm not about to throw that away by falling in love with her again, or admitting that I love her romantically. I do love her, but I want to love her like a sister."

Gunn leveled him with a look. "But you don't."

Spike shook his head in anger. "No, I don't. I do love her, and not in a sisterly way. Not the way I loved Dawn."

"So what do you feel, then?"

Spike slumped back into his chair. "I admire her and respect her. I enjoy talking with her. We've got such a history between us that we banter just as well as we fight together. I think she's one of the most beautiful people, inside and out, that I've ever encountered, and that's because of her flaws. They make her beautiful."

Gunn nodded. "So, all in all, you love her like a friend."

"I kissed her last night." Before Gunn could say anything, he rushed ahead. "It was on the cheek. She had just hugged me, and it seemed like the thing to do. And it was nice, you know. I . . . I feel like I lead her on, when I didn't know my own feelings." He laughed bitterly. "Looks like the tables have been turned a bit."

"So, you love her like a friend, but you're attracted to her, right?" Spike didn't reply, only nodded. "Okay," Gunn said.

Silence followed Gunn's words, and Spike closed his eyes, trying to unravel what this all meant. What if . . . what if he considered it? Told her he'd follow her once again, be willing to take on the challenges? What would happen? Would there be anything of him left at the end? Or would it end up, like he once predicted, with nothing of him left, and only her in a dead shell?

Gunn seemed to have been thinking in the interim, and suddenly said, "You know what I've realized about my relationship with Fred?" He didn't wait for Spike's answer before continuing. "I think that I didn't really love her. I was in love with her, I think. But I was also in love with the kind of person I was when I was with her."

"Sounds a bit muddled, mate," Spike noted.

Gunn shrugged. "Whoever said love was clear-cut? The best thing I can offer is something I read not too long ago. It was some discussion of divorce proceedings in a clan of Kantar-Llysten demons. The case hinged on the semantic difference between 'I love you' and 'I'm in love with you.' The findings of the court stated, in nice, plain language that the difference was this: 'I'm in love with you' indicates the emotional state of the speaker, how they feel about the other party and how they relate to their mate. 'I love you' indicates something that the speaker saw in the other individual."

Spike opened his eyes, and stared at Gunn. "'I love you' is unselfish, while 'I'm in love with you' is selfish?"

Gunn shrugged. "That's one way to look at it. More like you say 'I love you' without expecting anything in return, but that's not the case with 'I'm in love with you.'" Gunn assessed Spike. "You look like you've got some thinking to do. I'll leave you to it, then," he said, moving towards the door.

Spike recovered his wits enough to realize what Gunn was saying, and quickly said, "Wait, Gunn--"

The other man paused, halfway out the door. Spike looked at him, realizing that this man, so different from him, had become the only male friend he'd ever had. He almost said that, but halted his words and merely said, "Thanks, Charles," with a nod of his head.

Gunn smiled. "Just doing my part for romance," he said with a wink, before pulling the door shut behind him.

At the word 'romance,' Spike's brain froze up. Romance . . . was that what he wanted with Buffy? All his protests aside, did he want them to be a couple? He had been so focused on resisting her that he had made himself try not to think of the alternative.

'And why is that?' he thought to himself. 'I spent so much time insisting that I was over her. Was I just trying to tell myself that?'

Spike stood and once again began pacing around the room. He tried to be reasonable and consider things from different angles. Buffy loved him. She'd seemed more hopeful about her future than he'd ever seen her. She'd taken his rebuff well, and seemed willing to be friends with him if that was all he was going to offer her. All in all, it seemed like Buffy had finally finished the long process of growing up. She was baked, to use that stupid metaphor.

'Whereas you are half-baked if you're considering what I think you're considering,' he thought to himself. He knew that if he went to Buffy and asked her if it was too late, she'd say it wasn't. That they could have a relationship, and it'd be talks and laughs and sex. For a while. But what would happen if he disagreed with her? Or made her mad? Would he be left all alone when she finally left him?

He had spent a lot of time considering his past in the last year. Going over his decisions, his choices. It seemed that his life was lived reacting instead of acting. Poor Spike, always so emotional and sensitive, no matter how hard he worked to push most of his feelings deep down. The feelings just came out in different ways. In his love of the fight. In the obsessiveness of his love. In his wit and in his conversation. The feelings were all there. The time he had spent without form had forced him to start considering things. Looking at his actions, and seeing how another course might have yielded better results. This sort of pondering came more easily with his soul, but he'd never had the time in Sunnydale to work these things out for himself. He was just starting when the First made its last push.

He knew that he had changed in the last year. Had grown a bit more reflective, a bit more cautious. Tried to pause in non-fighting situations to assess the different outcomes. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? In a fight, he had decades of experience to carry him through any tight spots. But in the rest of his life, he really only had two years of knowledge to help him make choices. Was it wrong that he chose to hesitate instead of act?

Spike felt a pain in his hand. He looked down in confusion, and saw that his hand was half-buried in the sheetrock. In the midst of his pacing, he'd slammed his fist into the wall.

"Ouch," he said, frowning in confusion. Then, he felt his anger rise. What the hell was he doing? Who the hell had he become, that he'd sit around and brood and worry about what-ifs, when he could be hashing it out with Buffy right now?

With a start, he realized that he had avoided talking to her about what she would want out of a relationship, because he feared he'd accept her terms without question and go along. And inevitably, such acceptance would lead to becoming her faithful lackey once again. But maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to follow that pattern. Maybe there was a chance he'd be able to be her equal in this. He had painfully learned how to be his own man this last year. That was what Buffy needed: a man who didn't need her to complete him, but needed her to complement him.

He yanked his hand from the wall with a grimace, and ignored the blood and dust on his hand. Throwing open the door of his office, he stalked down the hall. His expression must have been truly threatening, considering the number of people who took one look at him and then stepped out of his way. Spike didn't care, though; his goal was clear. Find Buffy, talk to her, find out if she was willing to take a chance and go slow with him. Because he wanted to do this right, this time.

He checked Angel's office and found it empty, as he expected. Spying Harmony out of the corner of his eye, he made his way over to her desk.

"Harm, where did Angel take Buffy for lunch?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. They were doing lunch with Wes and Fred, and then Angel was going to take her over to Fred's to pick up her bags and then, off to the airport."

"The airport?" Spike said, checking his watch and realizing it was 2:30. Buffy had said she'd be leaving for LAX around 4. Did he have enough time?

Harmony was prattling away, but her words suddenly caught his attention. " . . . she seemed so sad, which is funny, since Angel isn't making her sad, you know?"

"What?" he said. "What do you mean, Angel isn't making her sad?"

"Duh, Buffy was so melodramatic in high school about Angel. 'Oh, I love him so much, but he's bad. Oh, he's killing people! Oh, I can't be with him, even though I love him.' So boring," Harmony said with an eye roll. "But now, it's like she's so incredibly sad, she can't even talk about it."

Spike looked at her in confusion. "Why do you think she's sad? How can you tell?"

"You just have to look at her, dumbass. She's sad because the man she's in love with is a dumbass. Gee, how coincidental that you, and the guy she loves, are dumbasses. Wait a minute!" Harmony said with a grin. "You're the dumbass she's in love with."

"Okay, okay, I know. Does Angel have his cell phone?"

Harmony raised an eyebrow. "Angel? Cell phone? We are talking about the vampire who last week said he missed telegrams?"

Spike groaned, and quickly grabbed Harmony's phone, punching in the number to Angel's cell phone. It rang several times, and he was nearly ready to hang up and try Fred's phone, when he heard a click and Angel's voice.

"Um, hello?"

"Angel, it's Spike. Don't let anyone know you're talking to me. Are you still eating lunch?"

He could sense that Angel was being guarded, and for more than the obvious reason, when he spoke. "Yes. We're just about done right now."

"All right. Tell me where you are, and then stall. Make the Slayer order dessert--she shouldn't be worrying about calories and grams of saturated fat. I need to talk to her before she leaves."

"Are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure," Spike said. "And don't even think about sending me to the wrong restaurant. I know what you tried to do to Buffy last night, and you're not gonna manipulate us out of seeing each other now."

Angel sighed heavily. "I know. She's given me hell for that. I can understand now why you didn't stake me, if this was what you'd have had to suffer through afterwards. We're at Limoncello--it's about six blocks down. You know how to get here?"

"Yeah--there's a manhole right by the back door of the place, isn't there?"

"Yes," Angel said. "Talk to you later."

Spike tossed the phone down, and said, "See you, Harmony," dropping a kiss on her cheek.

"Don't be a dumbass!" she called after him.

Spike moved slowly into the restaurant, looking for Buffy. He finally spied her, sitting at a table tucked away into a corner. She was alone, and finishing off what looked to be a massive chocolate dessert of some kind.

He paused, and just looked at her for a moment. God, she was beautiful. She had been all he wanted for so long that sometimes he couldn't help but wonder at how she was so many things, all rolled up in one package. And he loved all of those parts of her. Even the ones that annoyed or infuriated him or even scared him a little. She was Buffy. And he loved her. And he was tired of denying that. Tired of resisting his feelings and telling himself that he needed to stay remote and alone. After a year of hard struggle, he knew who he was. He was a man. And he was in love.

He casually strolled over, and said, "Dining all alone?"

She looked up at him, and he could see her eyes widen in surprise. "Spike? What are you doing here?"

He slid into a chair next to her, and said, "I was in the neighborhood. Where did everyone else go?"

Buffy stammered a bit. "W-Wes and Fred went back to the office. They walked. Angel went to get his car so he could take me to the airport."

Spike nodded. "But you've got a bit of time now, haven't you?"

She nodded, staring at him.

He cleared his throat, and tried to swallow the lump that was forming. "I know we said our goodbyes yesterday, but I was thinking . . . "

"Yes?" Buffy said, her voice confused and cautious.

Spike reached over, and took one of her hands. "Well, you see, I was thinking about what you've said to me while you've been in L.A. About how you love me. I don't know how I don't remember what happened when we were in the Hellmouth, but your love came as a bit of a shock to me. I know I've said I love you, but I think we both know that I didn't mean it in the same way you meant it."

Buffy ducked her head, and said "Yes," in a small voice.

Spike continued. "Like I said, I was thinking earlier today. Going back and forth on this issue. Because my love for you was changing a bit. Getting a bit . . . deeper. I kept telling myself that I couldn't throw away all the struggle I've gone through, to become my own man and stand on my own. I thought that if I admitted I love you, the same way you love me, that I'd be back to where I was before. But then, I realized something else."

Buffy was still looking down at the table, at the remains of her dessert. Her hand in his was like ice. She was so still, he wondered if she was still breathing. If he had ever needed a sign of how much she wanted this, him, here it was. And he didn't want her to wait any longer to find out his feelings.

"You know what I realized, Buffy?" he asked, using his other hand to tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

She shook her head, the tears in her eyes making them glitter. He smiled at her, and slid his hand from her chin to her cheek, cradling her face.

"I realized I think too much," he said, before he leaned in and kissed her.

Soft warm lips pressed against his own, still for a moment before coming to life under his. He felt her hand in his hair, tugging him closer, heard her small moan before he pulled away from her. A tear had streaked down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb.

"I, I can't believe this," Buffy said, smiling at him. "Oh, God, I love you so much." She leaned in to kiss him again, but then jerked back before making contact. "Are you sure? I mean, really really sure? Because there's lots of things I want if we're involved."

Spike sighed a bit, and dropped his hand from her face. "What kind of things do you want?" he asked, part of him hoping her demands wouldn't be too much for his new self-respect to take.

Buffy pressed her lips together at the change in his body language, but sat up in her chair. "First, I'd like to spend some time dating. Going out to dinner, spending time together, talking. Like normal people."

"Well, we're not exactly normal," he said with a frown.

She nodded. "I know. I want us to go patrolling together, too. I missed fighting with you. I mean, not with you with you, but together . . . oh, you know what I mean," Buffy said in frustration. "I want us to talk, about how we're feeling. I want to walk down the street with you holding your hand. I want to make out with you on that sofa in your office. I want to hear you call me your girlfriend."

"All nice things, pet, but what about what I want?"

She stared at him in confusion. "What, did you think it was only about what I wanted? Do you think I'm going to make the same mistakes twice? I want us to be in a real relationship this time, with all the good and bad stuff that comes with it. I don't want to be all selfish-Buffy. If anything, you're owed a lot of listening time from me. That's what I meant about talking and sharing, you dumbass!"

Spike couldn't help laughing at her words. He could see she was getting angry and frustrated with his laughter, but he couldn't help it. He was so happy he had to laugh. Because she got it. She thought they were equals in this.

And he just tumbled more in love with her than he ever thought he'd be.

"I love you, too," he said through his laughter, before pulling her in for a kiss. She was a bit stiff at first, but softened quickly. He pulled back again, and rested his forehead against hers. "I want all those things, too. I want you to work with me. I want to help you with your schoolwork. I want to overhear you chatting with your mates about how bloody wonderful I am. I want to live with you and argue about who pays the electric bill this month. I want you to complain I'm spending too much time with my friends, but secretly you're happy that I have friends. And I want to kiss you for a solid week."

Buffy sighed a bit, and said, "Everyone's going to think we're crazy."

Spike shook his head. "Nah. They'll say we finally came to our senses."

She giggled a bit, and pulled away, but not without latching onto his hand and holding it tightly. "I guess I don't need to worry about making that plane, huh?"

He sighed. "It's up to you, luv. You may have some things to take care of before you can move willy-nilly. I don't fancy the idea of moving back to the mother country, myself. I like Los Angeles. And if you missed it, I did kinda ask you to move in with me, at least eventually. So what do you say, Slayer? Want to give L.A. a try?"

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her propped-up hand. "Sure. Because you're here." A dazzling smile lit up her face, and she said, "Now, how about we go back to your place, and I make a few calls, and then we get to work on that week of kissing?"

He looked at her for a moment. He wondered if that was giving in to her too much, if this was just the first step down a slippery slope, back towards being love's bitch. Maybe he should insist that she go back to England, break the news, make plans to come back in a few weeks. A long-distance relationship for a few weeks would be taking it slow, and that's what they wanted, right?

But then Buffy lightly slapped his hand, and said, "You're thinking too much. Kiss me."

Spike couldn't help it. He grinned at her, and said, "Yes, ma'am." And they kissed until Angel arrived and interrupted them, only to go right back to kissing as Angel shook his head and left them there.

End, Putting the Question