*********************************TRApPeD*********************************

Forty: Walk Away

By Annie

2003-06-17

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Day Thirty-Six.

8.42 p.m.

Angel stumbled to the side from the fist connecting with his jaw. He took the second blow, averting it with one arm and then he retaliated by kicking his leg out, hitting the bleached blonde in the center of his torso and having him fly two yards back; almost crashing into the counter, but missing it by a mere inch.

Spike was on his feet the next instant, throwing himself forward and making Angel tumble backward as the formers shoulder connected with his ribs. For a minute or two they were simply pummeling each other on the floor; both taking hits to their faces and Angel beginning to bleed from a cut just below his hair line, Spike from a wound on his right cheek.

Angel suddenly laughed and they took a breather as Spike shoved him into the hard floor before getting off of him and to his feet.

"What's so bloody amusing?" he grumbled, Angel following his lead and standing as well; brushing the dirt off his black attire the older gave a shrug.

"You haven't changed," he then replied and Spike cocked an eyebrow. "In all the time I've known you, you've never changed. Are you saying now's any different?"

"Yeah, I bleeding well am," Spike stated; a tone of desperation in his voice which he couldn't hide and Angel observed him for a moment, then said:

"She doesn't love you. You HAVE to know that. I do, Spike. I know HER and she would never..."

"Crossing a line," Spike warned with a glare of mixed emotions.

Rage, pain, disbelief and knowledge; knowledge of the fact that Angel DID know her, better than he did.

"You should walk away," Angel nodded, as though he knew what was stirring the others mind; then he added: "before something happens that'll make you hurt her."

"I could never..."

"Please," the former interrupted sarcastically. "Don't try this act on me, I taught it to you, for crying out loud! There's something you want from her, and I'll be damned if I sit back and let you destroy her life."

"No, mate," Spike shook his head, "that's what YOU do. Mind games and sick, twisted pranks have always been YOUR bloody calling card, NOT mine."

Angel looked away.

"I can't control Angelus," he murmured and Spike took a step forward, then said:

"And I can't deny how she makes me feel."

At that Angel turned his eyes back in the others.

"I don't think I'M the one crossing lines here," he then grumbled and Spike huffed.

"I'm not you," he stated. "I never was... no matter how I bloody tried," he added, voice rather lowered and Angel blinked. "All that's in the past," Spike continued. "All of it... I'm willing to put it all behind me."

"For her," Angel filled in and Spike straightened his posture slightly, as a confirmation. "You're a fool if you think you're what she needs," Angel grumbled. "A wolf in sheep's clothing." Spike gave him another glare at that right before Angel added: "Over my dead body."

Moving forward he placed a perfect punch to Spike's right cheek, hitting the already soar wound and the younger let out a cry before clenching his own fingers into fists - and so the fight was once again on.

***

8.54 p.m.

Okay, stay cool, Buffy thought. Don't let him know how much you've... missed him. How... weird it was to sleep alone last night. How you've been pretty much thinking about him every two seconds since...

The sound of a brawl - furniture much likely being turned over as well as body parts being hit by other body parts - made her pause for a second, staring at the doors of his crypt which she was now facing, thinking that there was no way these sounds could be coming from where they were obviously coming from - behind those very doors, and then she moved forward. Pushing the first one open she raced through the other, coming to a sharp halt in the doorway as she stared at the scene before her.

The two delivering the punches didn't notice her presence and she practically gaped. Not only because someone whom she hadn't expected to see in a long time was fighting with her currant... But because this currant was seemingly furious over something. She hadn't seen either one of them this angry in forever and finally she stepped forward and rushed up to them yelling:

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey!"

Getting her arms between them and then pushing them harshly away from the other she looked first at Angel and then at Spike with a frown of dislike.

"Would you mind telling me exactly WHAT is going on?" she asked both of them, again looking from one to the other.

"Bloody hell!" Spike suddenly exclaimed and she almost jerked before she turned her head back to him questioningly. He took a step forward, reaching up his hands and gently brushing his fingers around the deep cut in her forehead. "What happened? Are you okay?"

She couldn't help but smile a little at his obvious concern, looking up at him she then nodded.

"I'm just great, apart from the massive head ache," she assured and he furrowed his brow.

"Did Adam do this?" he asked and she frowned again, wondering. Spike clenched his jaws together tight and stepped away from her. "I saw him earlier... he told me that he'd had a run-in with you... Had no bloody idea it was a heads-to-heads sodding run-in. If I had, I swear he wouldn't be standing right now!"

Angel suddenly smirked and when Spike saw it he glared at him.

"What is it now?" he demanded and the former once more shrugged nonchalantly.

"You've gotten better at this," he merely replied and Spike was about two tenths of a second from throwing himself over his grandsire again when Buffy slid her fingers cautiously over his wrist and further across the back of his hand, calmingly.

Spike looked down at her and then turned with a hardened expression on his face, though his fingers lightly graced hers as well before he walked a few steps away.

"So," she said, "what started this?"

"A bite from Drusilla?" Angel quipped and Spike turned back around.

"Buffy, I bloody SWEAR..." he began, the annoyance making his voice unsteady, but she shook her head.

"Have you got a better answer?" she then wondered and he gave Angel an icy look before he met Buffy's gaze.

"He was meddling," he replied. "And - I sodding hate the sight of him," he added, muttering, and Angel shook his head with a roll of his eyes.

"I didn't come here to pick a quarrel," he then assured and Spike's eyes once more grew tough as nails as he took a step forward.

"Watch it, love," he said, gaze still locked in the other vampire's though Buffy turned her head to look at the one speaking. "It's when he gets that soothe tone in his voice that you know you'd do best at watching your back."

"Yeah, I guess the years we spent on the road were a tough lesson, even though you DID learn it?" Angel grumbled, taking a slow step forward as well.

"I didn't spend those years with you, I spent them with that demon resting just below the surface," Spike shot.

"I think I remember just as well."

"I bet you do," Spike nodded. "So what makes you more deserving in life than me?" he then added and the meaning of those words had Angel stiffen before a cold smile graced his lips.

"Life? Now, there's a philosophy all in its own, isn't there? Do we live, or merely exist?"

"Us vampires?" Spike asked, reflecting the smile of the other and the latter nodded. "Do you wanna have one of those tedious discussions, mate? Bloody hell, let's give the Slayer a treat? Eh? Be like the good old times."

Buffy swallowed. The air was moving with the two creatures, rippling from their words.

"All I'm saying is - what defines us? Our actions, I'd say," the dark- haired stated and Spike tilted his head slightly to one side before he retorted:

"And you've had about a hundred years worth more experience than me in the field of 'existing'," making Angel smile again.

"But you forget," he replied, "that over the past one hundred I haven't killed a single human being."

"That makes us even, then," Spike nodded.

"Drop the act," Angel murmured. "Tell her."

Buffy frowned, deeply this time, turning her eyes on her lover. He gave her a glance and a dismissing head shake, but he could hear her heart beating hard in her chest now. He could have killed Angel right then and there; in that moment it was all he wanted to do. If there was any being on this planet that could crash whatever it was that was forming between him and this woman - it was his grandsire.

"Stop this," Spike tried, eyes still in Angel's.

"I'll leave once you've told her," the latter promised. "Tell her whatever it is that you're planning and I'll leave the staking to her."

"Is that how easily you say good-bye, brother?" Spike wondered, his voice all but surprised and Angel smiled again, this time bitterly.

"It's how much I know you're 'love' is worth," he then replied, adding a low: "Brother."

They stared at each other, the moment dragging its feet in the dust of the floor, and then they both moved forward again. This time Buffy was faster than either of them and once again she was in between them, pushing them away from each other. Both stumbled, Angel almost tumbling over a sarcophagus standing behind him, and Spike going back-first into the kitchen counter.

"Okay, that's enough!" she said, voice firm and they looked at her as she continued: "I see one more display of testosterone poisoning and I will personally put you BOTH in the hospital... Anybody think I'm exaggerating?" she finished, looking first at Spike and then at Angel.

They didn't respond and she took it as a sign that they had gotten the message.

Pausing for a moment to try and straighten out the situation she then walked up to Spike. He met her gaze and she drew a small breath, knowing that what she was about to ask of him was something that would be extremely difficult for him to tolerate.

"I need to speak with Angel for a minute," she finally got out and she could see the flicker of impatience in those two blue eyes digging into hers searchingly before he ground his teeth.

"Why?" he asked and she gave him a look.

"Spike, please," she murmured and he observed her for a few moments before his expression finally softened slightly.

"If that's what you want I bloody reckon I can't stop you anyways," he then muttered with a small shrug, about to turn away from her when she slid her hand into his and stopped him, catching his gaze again she held it steadily.

"Thank you," she said and he smiled a weak smile, pulling his hand away from hers and walking into the kitchen area.

Buffy turned her head to Angel and gave him a meaningful look to follow, and then she walked up to the doors leading out of the crypt. He did as she wanted and soon they faced each other in the cold light of the moon, the stars sprinkling the night with their everlasting beauty.

Had she not been in this predicament she might have actually enjoyed them. Now all she could focus on was the fact that this was probably ruining a part of her life she wasn't sure had even been truly formed yet, and that someone who meant the world to her was responsible for it. She didn't want to listen to what she suspected was going to come out of Angel's mouth, but knew that she had to.

"Exactly what was that - in there - going to prove? Huh?" she asked, the aggravation becoming clearer with every word, even to her.

Angel merely eyed her in silence and she shook her head at him, throwing her arms out to her sides before she began pacing before him.

"Fine, don't tell me. You don't have to, if you don't want to," she sighed, stopping and running her hands through her hair.

"You seemed torn up in L.A," Angel finally stated. "Like something was bugging you..."

"So, what - you thought you'd come here and de-bug me?" she asked and he smiled a little. "What made you think thrashing Spike would help me in that regard?" she added, leaning against the wall of the crypt and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, for starters, I'd have figured that to be the best part of YOUR day," he replied. "Up until now, that is."

She blinked, then sighed for the second time.

"Yeah," she grumbled.

"He's not good for you," Angel stated and she deterred from meeting his gaze. "You know he's not."

She didn't respond for a long minute and then she looked up and into his eyes as she replied:

"Not always."

"And that's why I came," Angel said.

She furrowed her brow, unfolding her arms and straightening her posture before she inquired:

"What gives you the right then, to tell me what to do?"

"I came because I was worried, I came 'cause I wanted to make things better..."

"This is NOT a good start," she muttered.

"You don't know him, Buffy," Angel tried and she shook her head again, disbelieving. "You don't know what he's done, what he's capable of..."

"Oh, I don't know?!" she practically exclaimed. "I've seen him do things that should have me hating him for the rest of my life! I know what he is, Angel..."

"But do you know WHO he is?" the vampire retorted. "Do you know how he used to get himself into pistol fights and duels simply for the fun of it? Has he told you about all the children? The families? The innocents, Buffy."

"YOU have killed, just like he has!" she said.

"Yes," Angel nodded. "And I know what it does to a person who can actually feel something to remember, to regret... to repent every single day... I swear to you, you can't trust him. He has no emotions in him. Whatever he's doing with you, he's doing it for himself."

She looked at him now, seemingly taking the words in and then she said:

"He's changed."

Angel stared at her, trepidation evident on his features before he took a step closer.

"I never would've thought he'd be able to get to you," he said and she blinked. "Do you have any idea how many women he has seduced? How many women he has TURNED? He's a master when it comes to this sort of play, and I promise you, you're nothing but a piece of whatever puzzle he's designing here!"

She looked away from him and he adopted an understanding expression as he added:

"This isn't a new concept, is it?"

At first she didn't know what to answer him, but then she met his gaze once more and said:

"I don't need you to save me from my own choices."

"I didn't say that you did," he shook his head. "But I wanted to help you make the right one now. I don't know why you've let your guard down... you just can't let it stay that way."

"I can't help the way I feel... when I'm with him," she mumbled and Angel's eyes widened slightly at this revelation.

"You have to help it," he said. "'Cause whatever he's showing you - it isn't real."

"Please..." she murmured. "Try to understand..."

"What is there to understand?!" he exclaimed and she almost jerked at the harsh sound of it. "He's set his mind at having you on your knees before him, and you practically ARE! I... I can't stand to see you like this."

"Like how?" she wondered.

"Haven't you heard what you've been saying? You're defending him, Buffy! How did it ever go this far?!"

"Angel, I know what you see is really different from what I see," she replied, surprised at how calm she was. "I've already been over everything you've just told me a number of times over the past month and every time I've gotten the same answer out of myself: there's no use to worry over not yet spilt milk. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself. If the day comes that sees me face Spike in a not so friendly way, I'll be able to handle it," she finished and Angel looked at her for what felt like a very long time before he nodded.

"You really care about him, don't you?" he asked, voice lowered and she wasn't sure how to reply to that question, so she gave a small smile and the vampire returned it tentatively. "Yeah... I saw how you looked at him."

"Did you notice how HE looked at ME?" she inquired and at that his smile turned into a smirk before he grew serious.

"One word of advice," he said. "Don't trust him too well. He's brilliant at this."

She looked at him, then smiled before she asked:

"Wasn't that more like nine words of advice?"

"In two sentences," he nodded, smiling back before he added: "I'll see you."

She nodded.

"Yeah, you will."

They parted, Angel walking off into the cemetery and Buffy proceeding up to the door of the crypt. Pushing it open she walked inside and through the second one before she stepped onto the floor. Spike wasn't there and her heart began to sink.

What now?

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Forty-One: Intermission

By Annie

2003-06-20

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Day Thirty-Six.

10.20 p.m.

Spike looked out over the glittering lights of a city which he had come to regard as something of a home. He had never belonged anywhere, but yes, how bittersweet it was to finally belong in the last place on Earth he actually should.

He had roamed the globe for a long time. He had seen it in bad days and good, in pure defeat and in glory, in hate and in love... He had been part of it all. He had been a spot of shame for so long; he didn't want to be cause of that feeling for her. Anything but shame. Anything but regret. He didn't want to instill that in someone who had, for the very first time, made him think of what he was.

He couldn't count the hours he had drifted off into musings of why he did what he did after she had said those things about "killing with a purpose". It WAS his nature, it WAS a part of him that he couldn't sidestep or get out of the way... But it was also that side to him - that violent side to him - that had been quietly pushed back.

Sure he wasn't exactly good at controlling it. He still felt the urge to kill. But she had made him focus all of it on something better than the mere taking of life. She had given him a purpose. Without her...

He closed his eyes and sat down on the grass covering the slope he was currently on. Then lay down on his back and opened his eyes again, looking up at the stretch of white dots high above his head.

To most, he supposed, the fact of him even existing would be as hard for their brains to process as the fact that those soft twinkles in the sky - seeming so reachable - were in fact a billion miles away, and that what they were gazing at in awe was something which had been sent through space ages upon ages ago.

He was dead.

Yet he walked.

Un-human.

He wondered what he was to her. What did she see when she looked at him? Why had she given herself to him? And how could she sleep in his arms and not care? DID she even care about what happened to him? Was this all some kind of a game to her? Or a test? Of what? His ability, his trustworthiness? Or was she simply using him - to get to Adam?

Or did something in her care?

Angel's voice kept ringing in his head.

"You can't seriously think you're what she needs."

Angel had done the noble thing. Angel had walked away in recognition of the hopelessness of a relationship where they could barely touch each other in fear of taking it one step too far and rendering him soulless. Angel had loved her enough to let her go.

But I'm not noble, Spike thought, sitting up and pulling his legs up, resting his elbows casually against his knees as he once more took in the view of Sunnydale. I'm selfish. I want her.

He straightened his back slightly at the sudden sensation of being watched overcoming him. Then he sighed.

"Didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?" Angel asked and Spike got to his feet, turning to face the approaching vamp.

"You said what you bleeding well wanted to say," the bleached grumbled. "Leave it be and get the bloody hell outta here."

"I wanna know what it is you want from her," Angel merely replied.

"You couldn't possibly understand," Spike murmured.

"I couldn't?" Angel asked, skeptically.

"No, you couldn't. You couldn't control Angelus, and Angelus wanted nothing but massacre and death... Even for her. I have no soul... but I look at her and all I wanna bloody do is protect her," Spike stated and Angel once more found himself staring at a being he had dealt with for such a long duration of his own existence, as well as that of the younger, that he was too certain of what he believed to be convinced. "Why did you come here?" Spike now inquired.

"I need you to realize that what you're doing with her is bound to..."

"No," Spike interrupted. "Not buggering HERE-here, in Sunnydale here. Why the hell did you come back?"

"Buffy and I... We left things sorta hanging in the air and I didn't wanna leave them there," the dark-haired answered.

"Why did you come see me, then?" Spike demanded and Angel smiled that shadow of a smile which was one of his more infuriating traits, before he replied:

"You know why I did."

"To make me bleeding leave her," Spike murmured and Angel smiled again, making Spike really want to punch him in the nose. "What had you figuring it was me? With her?"

"It was subtle," Angel replied. "The way she glanced up at me, and then away, when she told me about you - helping. How self-conscious she got when I asked to know more... And, yes, the minor detail of your scent - all over her clothes."

"Once upon a time," Spike mumbled, "you knew me better than myself. Look at me. Bloody look me in the eye. My love IS worth something."

"I'm glad some of what I said to you took hold."

"You sodding can't..."

"But I CAN!" Angel cut him off, taking the steps between them in the blink of an eye and grabbing the other by the collar of his T-shirt before practically lifting him off the ground. "I can, 'cause that girl down there is more precious to me than you could even imagine! I will NOT let you damage her!"

Spike giggled, shaking his head barely noticeably as he hung by his grandsire's clasping grip.

"You look at her and you feel so damn good," the younger then murmured. "You hold her and you feel your heart beating... With her you have a dream, a future. With her you're whole, in one bleeding piece at last - after what feels like eons of minutes. After a lifetime of something that is probably just that." Angel released his grip and Spike went down on his knees, looking down at his hands before up at the figure of someone he had once considered the model by which he wanted to mold himself. Perhaps now even more so. "You can tell that what she does to you is gonna have a too large impact on you than you'd even like to admit to yourself... but in the end you have to see it for what it is. Embrace it. Go with it. And that's when it gets truly amazing. When you give yourself to her. When she looks at you and accepts you. THAT'S when you know that no matter what comes it'll be alright, as long as she's there, as long as she rests her eyes in yours just like that. You gave all of it up. I don't bloody get how you could bring yourself to, when you KNEW that she..."

He trailed off. Angel's face was tight and mournful, making Spike wonder if he had gone too far.

"I couldn't give her what she wanted," the former finally said, voice lowered and hoarse.

Spike furrowed his brow.

"You still love her?" he asked and Angel met his gaze before he sighed.

"A part of me will always love her," he then answered. "But I released her... She released me."

"Then be bloody content with that," Spike grumbled, a trace of a plea in his gaze and Angel observed him at the sight of it.

He had never seen anything like it in the blue eyes of his grandchilde before. He realized, in that moment, that this was a fight he was destined to lose. It wasn't in his hands anymore. In fact, it never had been. It had been vain of him to actually believe that this was something he could ever influence.

"I still think she deserves better than you," he muttered, his gaze brightening just a little as he added: "Or me."

He took a step back, then gave a nod and turned around, beginning to walk away.

Spike watched him, then said, voice low:

"Thought you said it wasn't gonna be easy."

Angel paused, turned partially to him, and smiled a small smile yet again before he raised his eyebrows meaningfully. Spike frowned, questioningly, and followed the vampire's movements as he once more began to walk away, the darkness of the grove swallowing him and the second he disappeared a new form moved out of the shadows.

"Buffy," Spike practically whispered.

***

One hour earlier.

Buffy stood indecisive of what to do.

Why was it that when she really wanted him to be there, he wasn't. And when she absolutely needed him away from her, he was practically leashed to her back? Well, she supposed there hadn't been much of the not-wanting-him-near lately... but still.

She just had a tiny feeling creeping down her spine of what this was actually doing to him, what he was doing to himself by distorting the whole situation into something that it really was not!

"I have to find him," she grumbled, swirling around and rushing back out through the door.

Okay, logically, where would he be?

Ten minutes later she threw open the door to Willy's and stepped inside. Three demons were seated along the bar, another five scattered amongst the tables; their heads all turned as they could sense her presence. They looked away in their own time as she fearlessly walked through the room.

He wasn't there, but she couldn't simply leave, that would do nothing but create questions that would in turn surely stir up some idle gossip and that was the last thing she needed. No, she had to state a case and so she strode up to the owner of the joint and leaned against the counter as she said:

"I need information."

Willy gave her one of his more nervous glances and then he shook his head.

"I-I don't want any part of that no more, Slayer," he replied, taking to glancing about the room before clearing his throat and picking up a dirty piece of cloth, beginning to clean the already immaculate bar counter and scooting her arms off it.

She straightened her back and gave him a look.

"I'm real serious here," Willy more or less whispered, leaning forward a little. "There's a rumor going around that snitches go in ditches, and I ain't planning on taking a vacation there quite yet. In a real long time, in fact," he added, rather conspiratorially and Buffy eyed him at that.

"Adam," she muttered and Willy's eyes widened before he began fidgeting with the cloth once more.

"You go 'bout your business," he encouraged. "And take it far away from here. Okay?"

She sighed, then nodded.

"Fine," she murmured, turning and leaving the way she had entered.

She decided to head to the mansion where he had stayed with Angel and Drusilla, and maybe that old factory deserved a stop as well... But first - the Bronze.

She was about to take the back door into the club when a voice made her stop and turn back around.

"Hey," Riley said silently.

"Hey," she replied.

The quiet settled uncomfortably between them and she hesitated before she grumbled:

"A friend of mine was taken... a few nights ago. By YOUR men... They were gonna hurt him and we had to break him outta there... I just... Where were you? You said that you'd be there if I needed you 'cause we have a common goal in this fight, but..."

"I was sent out on a mission," he cut her off gently. "I heard about what happened. I'm sorry, it never should've..."

"But it did."

"Yeah..." he trailed off, looking at her. Then he drew a small breath and said: "I've been offered another of those... Away from here. I'd have to leave Sunnydale, probably for good."

She stared at him. This was sudden.

"What do you mean?" she inquired, completely stumped and he took a step forward as he repeated:

"I've been offered a mission with a special op's force. It'll take me out of Sunnydale, probably even the States... indefinitely."

She frowned, still not registering and he took another step forward, stopping right in front of her and saying:

"I'm gonna accept it... Unless... you can give me a reason to stay."

She blinked, his words finally reaching her and she realized that he was saying he was going to leave. Leave to not return. If she didn't tell him that there was a chance. For them.

She found herself eyeing him. Looking at his face, by now familiar. Into his eyes, in search of what to say. She didn't have to look for very long. She smiled a small smile and he returned it tentatively as she stepped the last pace separating them and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

He closed his eyes and held her back, but they opened again as she said:

"I hope you'll be happy. Whatever happens."

He looked down at her as she stepped out of the embrace and gave him a look of both regret and appreciation.

"Take care of yourself," she then added and he swallowed.

He hadn't actually expected this. Saying good-bye had for some reason not been in the plan, but he also came to understand that he wasn't surprised, not deep down.

"You take care of yourself, too," he agreed and she smiled again. "Alright, so... I'm going then," he mumbled, hesitating for one moment as he let his eyes rest in hers, and then he turned and began to walk away.

She looked at his back for a few seconds before she grabbed the handle of the door she had been about to open when Riley had interrupted her. Stepping inside the music hit her and as she walked into the club she could already tell that who she was looking for wasn't there. Sighing she trotted toward the front entrance and back out onto the streets.

When had it begun? she wondered. When did it all really begin? In the basement he had said that he had wanted her from that first moment that he saw her... But she hadn't wanted HIM from the first moment she saw HIM, had she?

She stopped, turning her head to the side and finding herself looking into the alley where that first meeting had occurred. She swallowed, then couldn't help but smile a little to herself.

Okay, so it had been his attitude that got to her that night. The arrogance, the strength, the complete lack of fear and that dangerous gleam in his azure blues that let her know exactly how serious he was in his statement. He wasn't only GOING to kill her, he actually KNEW that he could pull it off.

How many times hadn't he come close? If her mom hadn't intervened that very Saturday he WOULD have done what he so boldly had proclaimed that he would. And there were other times... She wondered what had stopped him. She wondered how long he had felt something more...

He was a complex being, that was for sure, and she might never fully know him. But she knew now that there was something good to the bad and he showed it to her so without restraints that she had to let it charm her, had to let it in. Looking back she had to marvel at it, though. A year ago, or two years, she wouldn't have thought a creature so cold, so merciless and clearly in so lack of respect of anything could harbor actual gentleness, could have such a tender way of looking at her - often when he thought she couldn't see.

Spike. He had taught her something about life. Never say never. Life will merely turn around and bite you in the butt for even thinking you could know better.

Wow. Spike. Really?

Yes. Really.

She broke down the, with boards, nailed over doors of the mansion and stepped inside. It was as it had always been and suddenly she was brought back to the time after Angel's return from his own, personal hell dimension. How she had loved him, cared for him, and what a torture it had been not to be able to be close to him. Seeing him again, seeing him in the same room as Spike, had made it clear to her that Angel was her past. No matter what happened with Spike. Angel would always be one of her closest, she had no doubt in that. He knew her inside out. She loved him so much, but she didn't think she was IN love with him anymore.

She glanced around at the large fire place, at the tattered old couch still standing before it, and then she smiled for a second time.

She had said good-bye to him right there, right below the mantle, and then she had placed the ring he had given her there as some sort of symbol to herself that he was gone, and that she had to move on.

She walked up to the spot and kneeled by it.

Stroking her hand over the rough stone surface she closed her eyes and suddenly she had the most overwhelming feeling. She opened her eyes, looked down at the place her hand had graced with its touch, and then she rose. Turning around she ran out of the mansion and didn't stop as she set her feet on the course of the hills beyond the city.

She knew where he was.

Finally slowing down as she entered the first large grove she took a steadying breath and kept walking.

What was she going to say to him?

She supposed it all depended on what he would say to her.

She walked for another five minutes and then she could see the trees up a head clearing, as well as the growing glitter of city lights from a far. She stepped onto the soft, tall grass covering the slope beyond the last grove and immediately her eyes rested in his. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at him.

All of it was madness. All of what she was feeling was insanity. But it seemed she had let it all slide since the first caress from him, and it seemed she had stopped really caring ever since he first told her that he loved her.

Approaching him slowly she could hear but one thing.

His voice as it softly whispered her name.

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Forty-Two: Come Un-done

By Annie

2003-06-26

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

Day Thirty-Six.

10.35 p.m.

He was still on his knees as she came to a slow stop before him. Looking up at her he seemed as the worshipper before his shrine, in frail prayer for a sign that he was not there in vain.

She met his gaze for the longest stretch of minutes, her heart beating hard in her chest as though to let her know that she was still alive, in spite of her already feeling as though she was floating somewhere out of herself; and then he broke eye contact, turning himself over to his right to sit down in the manner he had been seated before Angel interrupted his musings.

Buffy swallowed; observing him for a moment and then she carefully claimed a spot beside him.

"It's hard to believe the things that live down there," she finally broke the stillness residing between them, referring to the what lie spilled out and twinkling in the dark night before them; and though he didn't look at her, he nodded. "It looks so beautiful from up here... You couldn't imagine all the... death."

Once again there was quiet and she had to clench her teeth together to keep herself from turning her head to him; she had the most overwhelming notion that if she did she would burst into weak, girlish tears, and that when he asked her why she was crying them she wouldn't have a good enough answer to give him. She kept her gaze on those city lights, on that veil of beauty that lie over cruelty and pain, over loss and grief, over that cycle of life taking place on the streets far below.

"I met this man," he suddenly said and she blinked in un-called for surprise at the soft sound of his voice breaking through her thoughts; and she did turn her head to look at his profile as he continued to speak, but she didn't cry as she listened to his story. "I met him on the road from Venice to Rome and he was driving a carriage drawn by two really old and dusty, from the dirt of the road, I 'spose, donkeys. They were grey, I remember... with white patches around their noses. Dru was just getting sickly 'round that time and I didn't know what to do... I asked him for a ride thinking he'd make a good enough meal for the both of us - the donkeys would suffice as well... and he smiled. I remember that smile 'til this day. So open, somehow. Like it wanted to tell me how welcome I was to just sodding step right into his world, you know?"

She nodded slowly, twisting herself a little where she sat so that she could eye him without straining her back. He was still faced forward as he continued:

"On the back of the carriage he had two barrels - wine, I'd come to find out - and three bales of hay. He told me I should put Dru on the latter ones, and I did... She kept murmuring my name, but my human one... William, William... Over and over. It was driving me clear outta my bloody head 'cause then she'd suddenly open her eyes and when she looked at me she whispered 'Spike' instead... I don't know why. I never asked her why. So, the man offered me to sit next to him up front and I thought why the hell not, it'll make everything easier. Save me the surprise-from-behind approach. So I jumped up and sat down in the driver's seat beside him. It was really hard, made of two old boards. He told me - later on - that he hadn't the heart to pluck them down and replace them with something more comfortable 'cause his son had made that seat for him; his eldest, he said. And he had moved away to another country with his bride and they hadn't seen each other in eleven years... That really got to me, for some reason.

"Anyways, Dru fell asleep, and I praised my lucky star for it, and I was trying my best to figure a way that I could attack without setting the donkeys off in a fright - carriage and all, when the man turned to me and said that I didn't look Italian. And I really had to buggering smirk at that. And then I answered that I was Englishman and he raised his eyebrows, then chuckled before asking me what I was doing so far away from home... And then he glanced over at Dru before asking me if she was my wife. I told him she was without a second thought and he nodded that that was a good thing. But that I shouldn't be travelling with her if she was taking ill. I replied that I might have just the cure for her, getting ready to make my move when he asked me if I thought the seat was comfortable and then he told me about his son. He looked at me for a little while after that; he had brown eyes, almost black... They were keen... friendly... observant. Then he asked me if I was running from something, 'cause that was what his son had been forced to do."

Spike paused, looking at his hands for a few moments before he raised his eyes to the sky. The memories seemed to have gotten the better of him and Buffy watched him as she herself grew thoughtful, as well as curious to know what the point of this tale was.

Finally he began to speak once more.

"I told him that in a way I was... running away. I didn't tell him that what I was trying to escape was who I once had been... We talked for hours after that. About simple things, grand things, it didn't matter. He told me about his life and I fabricated the life I thought he'd want me to tell him about... But the interesting conversations were about philosophy, art, the world and the people in it... We drank from the wine, he shared it willingly... He read a lot, he confided. He even wrote gibberish in an old notebook that he carried around with him and I smiled and showed him mine, which made him smile as well. We thought alike, mortal and living dead. Soul and demon. That night was the first night in a very long time... well, actually since Dru and me parted with Angel about ten years or so earlier, that I felt truly at peace. Like there was something right in the world..."

He trailed off, and when he this time fell silent for several minutes Buffy couldn't take it, she had to ask:

"And the moral of this story is?"

"For a night this man made me FEEL like a man for the first time in thirty- two years. But that didn't stop me from killing him. That didn't stop me from having Drusilla bloody drain him. That didn't make me think two seconds about whether or not I should kill his two much beloved pet beasts of burden. I killed them, all three of them, Buffy. With no bleeding remorse..."

She stared at him and he turned his head to rest his eyes in hers. She was evidently shaken, and he sighed.

"The moral of this story is that you can't trust me. I'm not good for you, love. In the end, who knows, I just might end up being something that I've been for a hundred-and-twenty-three years, without being able to stop myself," he grumbled, looking away from her and she furrowed her brow slightly before she reached out a hand and placed it gently on his arm.

"If I believed that, I wouldn't be sitting here," she said and he glanced at her. "Spike... Do YOU believe that? Really?"

"I don't bloody know," he muttered, shaking her hand off and rising to his feet. "YOU don't know me," he added and she raised her eyebrows.

"I want to..." she mumbled and he shook his head.

"I don't think so," he disagreed. "My story isn't something I could tell around bedtime, it wouldn't give you any sweet dreams... it wouldn't make you hold me in sodding high regard. I'm a monster, Buffy. How could you ever...?"

He trailed off, his expression growing tight and she looked up at him before she got to her feet as well.

"What did Angel say to you?" she asked and he ground his teeth, then shrugged.

"Nothing that I hadn't already thought of myself," he then replied and she took a step forward.

He took one back and then raised one hand slightly, as if to fend her off, keep her back.

"Don't," he said. "Please..." She furrowed her brow. "I need to be alone for just... a few... a little while," he mumbled, his eyes suddenly bare and vulnerable.

She met them, seeing the underlying seriousness, and she suddenly realized what he was trying to do.

"No," she replied, taking another step forward, stopping right before him and he looked down at her with growing frailty before he put one hand up and let his fingertips stroke her left cheek.

"I could never hurt you," he nearly whispered and she shook her head, reaching up one hand and taking his.

"Then don't go anywhere," she then said and he closed his eyes, leaning forward slightly he rested his forehead against hers and she closed her eyes as well.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and moved her face to the side of his throat and he cautiously held her back, burying his nose in her soft locks and breathing her scent as a human would breathe the air.

No, he could never leave her. He could never walk away.

They stood embraced for a long time and then they slowly pulled apart, looking at each other and both soon smiling a little. Buffy turned and sunk down on the grass again, Spike not late to follow her lead and they once again found themselves gazing at the view of Sunnydale.

"What did the man write?" she suddenly asked and he turned his head to her, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "In his 'notebook'," she elaborated and Spike looked away, beginning to fiddle with the straws of grass beneath him with his right hand as he answered in a not so uneasy voice:

"Poetry, if I remember correctly."

She frowned deeply this time as she studied him for a short while, then she asked the inevitable, and he had to wonder what had EVER possessed him to actually mention something so personal, had he really thought that she wouldn't fit the pieces together?

"So what did you write in yours?"

"Mine...?" he tried the oblivious road, but it took him nowhere as she merely gave him a look not to play coy. He grumbled under his breath, then said: "Short stories... a lot of those, actually. But mostly... Bloody hell."

She smiled brightly at his discomfort and he gave her a murderous look, which only lead to the former broadening further.

"You're a poet?" she then inquired, trying to keep the tease out of her voice, but this discovery was simply too unbelievable for her brain to fully process as it was, having it be completely serious would make it not short of impossible.

"Shut your gob," he growled and she smirked.

"Sorry," she said, stripping her face of any sign of merriment and clearing her throat.

Looking away from him she couldn't keep a tiny smile off her mouth and he saw it as he watched her profile. He couldn't do anything but mirror it as he thought of what a shock this must have been to her.

"I WAS a poet," he then confessed and she turned her head back to him, clearly interested and very curious, and so he continued: "When I was human. I was a sodding pathetic excuse for one, though. Poet, I mean... But I perfected my skill," he shrugged and she looked hesitant before she asked:

"Can I read it? I mean, some of it...?"

"I've burned most of it," he replied, not meeting her gaze now and she didn't know whether to push further on the subject, or simply let it lie.

She chose the latter.

"Spike," she then said, voice low and he nodded, not looking at her. "If I was sick... dying," she continued and at that his head swirled to her, his eyes widening with questions and she shook her head calmingly. "I'm not," she reassured. "But if I was... Would you turn me?"

He blinked.

"Not even if you begged me," he murmured and something dark drew across his features which had her furrow her brow again.

She wasn't entirely sure from where the question had emerged. But once she asked it she had known that it had been in the back of her mind for a while now. Where he would stand if his bite wouldn't kill, but bring another sort of life to her... If he would lose her if he did not use the gift that was his to give.

She hadn't been expecting anything but the truth, whatever that may be, and she had obviously gotten it. It was a relief, but she got the feeling there was more to it. That look on his face, in his eyes... He looked positively heartbroken.

"Why?" she wondered as a response to his previous statement and he was quiet for such a long time she grew uncertain if he had heard her or not.

Then he spoke.

"Because of my mother," he said, voice coarse and she stared at him. "She was sick... when I got turned. I went to my house... I went there to save her. To make it so that she'd be with me forever. But after I'd..." He paused, and Buffy felt herself grieving with him as she could read his face and its display of emotions. "She wasn't my mother anymore," he murmured. "So I killed her all over again."

Buffy didn't know what to say, then thought it best to stay quiet and instead she reached out a hand and locked her fingers with his. As he turned his eyes in hers she tried to look as supportive as she could and his gaze softened, which made her feel a pulse of happiness that she had succeeded.

Then she got herself moving and crawled so that she could ease herself in between his legs and rest her back against his chest. He hugged her and then moved backwards, taking her with him, as he made it so that he could rest his back against the trunk of a thin tree a few feet behind. Once that was done he kissed her tenderly on top of her head and she closed her eyes, relaxing fully as the sense of him enveloped her.

It was tentative, but strong, as it filled her and she drew a deep breath of his scent.

She could fall asleep here. She could fall asleep and dream sweet dreams in his arms for the rest of her life. It didn't matter to her anymore who he had been, because in this moment she was so sure of who he was.

"I'm falling in love with you," she whispered and she could feel his abs tighten as he stiffened.

She opened her eyes and had the most incredible rush of adrenaline pour through her as she understood that what she had just said would change everything. She had taken a step, and there was no way she could go back. Not ever. The dice was tossed and there was no telling what the outcome would be. But then, she had always been in this - with him - on a win or lose basis and so this wasn't very different, was it? No. But she had just raised the stakes to the sky.

Turning herself around she met his gaze and held it. He stared at her now, quizzical and disbelieving.

She smiled at the sight, her heart pounding furiously in her chest, but this time she didn't need it to tell her that she was alive - she had never had that feeling so strong within her ever before, as she had it in that very moment. She pulled herself up and put her face before his as she repeated:

"I'm falling in love with you."

He kept on staring and then his eyes had a familiar warmth gently flow into them before he asked silently:

"How do we fix that, then?"

Her smile broadened.

"We'll just have to wait it out," she mumbled. "But I think it just might take a long, long time."

"Ah, a fair warning?"

She giggled, then nodded.

Moving her head forward she kissed him softly, enjoying the feel of his lips against hers, and then she ended it in the same fashion before she turned around and lay back down in her previous position.

"We could find a spell," Spike said and she raised her eyebrows, though he couldn't see it, in wait for him to spin further on this solution. He did. "A time-spell, so that we could go back to the time before we got trapped and somehow bleeding prevent it from ever happening. Then we wouldn't be sitting here, we wouldn't be starting to depend on each other... we wouldn't be falling into anything and everything 'd be the way it always was... None of this would've ever had to have happened. We could do that," he finished and she smiled contentedly before reaching out a hand and for the second time entwining their fingers.

Then she said:

"Yeah... we could do that."

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*********************************TRAppED********************************

Forty-Three: Belief and a Side-Order of Something Good

By Annie

2003-07-03

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

Day Thirty-Six.

11.58 p.m.

They walked slowly back to his crypt. They were silent because both of them thought they had too much to say to the other and they weren't exactly sure of how to get it all out, how to begin. They were comfortable in the quiet though, and they kept stealing glances at the other; sometimes their eyes would meet and neither would be able to hold back the small smile immediately rising before they looked away from each other again.

Buffy wanted to hold his hand, wanted to walk close to him and not have to pretend anymore. But she knew that that was impossible, Adam's spies would surely be out and if they saw them...

She decided not to think about that anymore. They would get Adam, they would box him in, and they would stop him. Right now, this moment, with Spike, was too important to brush off simply because they couldn't risk a smile or two... a friendly look... a brush up of ones arm against the others. She loved the stillness. And falling for him, for his seeking and knowing gazes, and his warm and open smile, for his passionate and demanding kisses and the way he made her feel whenever he was close to her... strong, cared for and safe - it was easy. It was the easiest thing she had ever done, now that the words had been uttered and she had to realize that it was too much to hold back.

Spike looked at her and his whole body ached with something it hadn't truly been under for such a long time that it had - that HE had - forgotten what it felt like: actual and real happiness. That was why he kept looking away from her, because the feeling was overwhelming. And because if he kept his eyes on her when their gazes locked - and she didn't look away either - he would say to hell with all that had to do with Adam, and he would pull her to him and walk with his arm proudly wrapped around her for the rest of the road they still had up ahead of them.

He loved her, so terribly much, and she was beginning to feel the same. This woman, so full of life and grace and goodness, was falling in love with him. He had hoped; and he had needed to believe, but had he ever dared to? He didn't think so. If he really had then this feeling within him wouldn't be so unfamiliar, so new. Glancing at her again he felt his heart do an odd jump in his chest, he shivered from the sensation as he looked at her for as long as he dared before once more turning his eyes forward.

The crypt crept into view and Buffy felt one side of her wanting to rush forward and finally have walls around them, and his arms around her; but then another part wanted to slow down their steps even further. A gnawing worry was taking a seat at the nape of her neck and the chills it sent out weren't pleasant. She drew a small breath. There were so many what ifs still left to solve, so many left that simply couldn't BE solved. They frightened her a lot more than the deadly threats she faced every night.

To need him...

He was everything that she should loathe and despise; he stood for everything that was wrong in her world; although she found herself having to smile at that thought. Because the truth was: it didn't apply anymore. He HAD been those things, but now... he was so much more. And she knew that she had been granted the chance to see him in a different light. In an entirely different light. And she could see it reflecting in his gaze whenever he looked at her now.

He loved her, and she was beginning to return those emotions in a way she never would have dreamed that she would. That she could! But whenever she looked at him her heart leaped and she needed to smile and that was undeniable. God, he made her feel so good.

They both came to a stop before the doors of his home and they exchanged another look, bidding each other to take the first step. They stood there for nearly ten seconds of growing impatience and then they both smiled sheepishly.

Spike gave a small shrug before he walked the few paces and opened the door for her. Her smile widened just a tad as she followed in his footsteps and proceeded through the doorframe. She walked through the small hall and through the second door, listening to him now following her and as he closed the latter she turned to him.

He tilted his head slightly to one side, eyeing her in the quietness, and she let another smile grow onto her lips before she took the steps dividing them and stopped right in front of him. She paused, holding his gaze, and then she carefully slid her fingertips up the fabric of his T and under the hems of his duster. Making it glide down from his shoulders and to the floor in a heap, the shirt he had been wearing going with it.

He was staring at her, the warmth in his eyes being reflected in hers as his hands began to unbutton her jacket. It went the same way his duster had and he slipped his fingers under her sweater, sliding his hands over her stomach and she closed her eyes, lifting her arms up so that he could get the sweater off her.

She gently got his T off him in the same manner and then she stepped into him, placing a tender kiss against the place of his heart right before his arms locked tight around her and she moved hers up to link them behind his neck. Resting her forehead at the side of his throat she felt how all the tension began to subside.

He brushed his cheek against hers and she tilted her head back, meeting his gaze before closing her eyes again as his mouth locked with hers and the kiss deepened languorously. She moaned softly and cautiously pressed herself closer to him.

They got the rest of their clothes off as lazily as the former ones and their kisses joined with Buffy's breathing was the only thing erupting the silence keeping reign around them. They wouldn't have had it any other way and when they finally sunk down on their improviser of a bed they were more one being than ever before. Their movements dragged out and yet hungry as they explored the familiarity of the other.

Spike entered her, filled her.

Their eyes locked and refused to leave the others as they began to make love.

***

Day Thirty-Seven.

4.34 a.m.

"And then what?" she asked, voice low as she rested her chin against his shoulder, her right hand placed on his stomach and her fingertips making little circles without her mind really having anything to do with it.

She had been engaged in eager listening for the past two and a half hours, to the story of him.

"Well, Dru was weaker than ever before and I knew the cure was to be found here, so I threw her into the DeSoto and brought her where I knew she'd heal... Bleeding terrific idea, wouldn't you agree? Brought me here, brought me to you..." Spike smiled a little at the memory. "Brought me to change my whole bloody existence," he then finished. "Had I known, I never would've sodding come," he sighed and she smirked, giving him a small push with one arm before directing her eyes up at him.

"So, if you'd known this would happen you'd have chosen eternity with Drusilla?" she then asked and he raised his eyebrows as he moved his head to be able to meet her gaze.

"Don't tell me you feel threatened by that old bird," he murmured and Buffy smiled again, pulling herself up so that she could rest her head in her left hand, supported on her elbow, before she replied meaningfully:

"You didn't like me seeing Angel, did you?"

"Pet, Dru is something completely different," Spike disagreed and now it was Buffy's turn to raise her eyebrows. "When I was with Dru... I felt twice as lethal. She made me feel invincible. Strong, dangerous. She fed me her crazed fantasies and sooner than later I believed in them 'cause I bloody believed in HER. It made everything easier... Guess you could say, where Angel was kinda my mentor, Drusilla was my guiding star, my influence... my lack of conscience," he grumbled the last part and Buffy slid one hand in a comforting gesture down the side of his cheek, making him turn his gaze back in hers. "But up until now I've never known love. I've never felt it the way I feel whenever I'm near you... You make me wanna be a better man, Buffy."

She blinked, his words clearly getting to her and he smiled a little again, reaching up a hand and placing it by her cheek.

"I've never regretted any of the things I've done," he said, voice gentle but with a trace of bitterness in it, and sorrow. "I was glad that I did them 'cause God knows I would've died of boredom in London if I'd been forced to live my life that way. I had something in me that had to be freed, and Dru let it out of its cage. I loved the thrill... And that was enough for me. Now... I can't go back. And I dunno where I'm headed if I can't be what I'm made to be. I'm at a loss, Slayer."

"No," she then said, shaking her head. "Not at a loss at all," she added, moving her hand to the one of his still on her cheek and then making it so that their fingers entwined. "You have me," she stated and his eyes lit up in that extraordinary way again. "And now you have ME to believe in YOU," she said firmly. "'Cause I do," she mumbled at the taken expression on his face. "I believe in you," she then finished with more feeling and the pause that followed seemed to make the air thicken before she leaned forward and kissed him tenderly.

He returned it, his hand squeezing hers, and when she pulled back he looked almost confused before he shook his head.

"I don't understand how this can be happening," he said and she smiled at that, then grew serious as he added: "Angel told me he doesn't think I deserve you... And he's right. What did I ever do to deserve this?"

Buffy carefully loosened her fingers from his and then slid her hand up his chest to the place graced with a kiss earlier, then she answered him.

"You opened yourself up."

He looked at her for a few moments, almost in awe and with his love for her so clear in his eyes that she could feel it drill through her skin.

"Come here," he then murmured, pulling her to him and holding her in a tight embrace, her arms going around him as well.

"I want to hear more," she whispered and he smirked.

"Haven't I done enough of the talking for one night?" he inquired and she smiled as well. "I'd bloody well say so," he added before giving her shoulders an encouraging squeeze. "Your turn."

She blinked, then giggled.

"Well, first of all, before I was a Slayer I was a very normal girl," she said, drifting into memories of her childhood and she began to tell them to him.

She wasn't sure how to best reveal to him what kind of person she had been in Los Angeles before she found out who she actually was. Before she knew what she was... She had been such a careless, naïve little girl back then. Popular to boot, sure. With a posse of friends. She had been her old schools Cordelia, all be it perhaps not quiet as vile as Cordy had been to her. Well, fifteen year old Buffy Anne Summers hadn't had too many things on her mind except for boys, shoes, boys, those cute little bags with fluffy pink feathers on them, boys and how best to be elected homecoming queen. Steven Adler had been her dream date back then. A jock, her version one-point-five on the Richter scale of dead-sexy.

She giggled.

"I guess you can imagine who my version is today," she then said, the cheerfulness in her voice made him laugh as well, meeting her lips as she had pulled up to give him a deep kiss and he enjoyed it for the while it lasted before she placed herself in her previous position and continued with her story.

She told him about her first slay. How her instincts had slowly taken over and how shocked she had been. How long it had taken her to fully accept her destiny and how she then had had to cover it up from her parents. How they had split up after she burned down her high school gymnasium, which had been filled with vampires, and how her mother had decided that they should get out of L.A and move to this adorable and quiet town a few hours from the big city. Sunnydale.

"Of course, my first few days here told me exactly what kind of place this was," she said. "I had Slayer tingles down my back everywhere I went and once I began to dig into a series of inexplicable murders - caused by two odd looking puncture wounds on the victims throat as well as massive blood loss - well, then I met Giles and Xander and Willow and everything rolled on from there."

"So, which moment has been the hardest so far, as the Slayer?" he asked and she grew thoughtful.

"I think I'd have to go with feeding you your icky blood," she finally stated and he heard the playfulness in her voice, which made him tip her over and begin to tickle her fiercely.

She was screaming for mercy before he stopped and she was still laughing softly to herself as she sat up and then gave him a friendly glare. He moved one arm and slid his hand up her back, then down again before moving it to her waist and making her lie down next to him.

They looked up at the ceiling, and then Buffy said:

"One of the absolutely hardest parts about being the Slayer is having to see my friends get hurt. I mean, I know they wanna help me. I know they NEED to help me, and I'd be the same way... But every time one of them gets abducted or nearly drained or threatened by giant bugs or nearly sliced and diced I just can't help but think that it's partially my fault for getting them into that situation."

Spike was quiet for a short while and then he replied:

"But that's stupid. It's not your fault any bloody way you look at it, love. Do you think evil would rest if you didn't exist? There has to be good fighting evil, otherwise there's... nothing. What I'm trying to say is that even if you hadn't ever come to Sunnydale your friends 'd be in as much trouble. MORE, even. And how many times haven't you SAVED them? They'd probably BE abducted and drained and sliced and diced if you weren't here. I dunno 'bout the giant bugs thing, though," he finished and she smiled at his last input before she sighed.

"I suppose you're right," she muttered. "But it's still hard, you know?"

"Yeah," he grumbled, turning his head to look at her.

"You were right, though," she suddenly mumbled silently, eyes still on the ceiling. "In the end I'll be fighting alone - to protect them."

His arms glided around her as he moved to lie on his side, kissing the one of her shoulders closest to him before he murmured:

"I won't ever let you stand alone."

"Promise?" she asked, turning her head so that the tips of their noses touched and he smiled as he nodded a little. "In a way," she added, looking back at him as she continued: "you're really a blessing." He raised his eyebrows questioningly and she smiled, finishing: "I don't think anyone's ever understood me better than you do. Of course, that was one of the worst sides to you when we were sworn enemies and all... that you kept crashing into my life making all these observations about it when you weren't even an eligible part of it!"

He laughed at that.

"I'm so glad I was able to make you at least a bit uncomfortable," he then stated and she smirked, rolling him over so that she could straddle him and his eyes grew slightly as he looked up at her.

"So how big is that bad in you?" she asked, leaning forward until their chests scraped together and he bit his lower lip as he met her gaze. "How badly does it wanna surface?" she demanded and he closed his eyes as she moved her hips back and over his already throbbing erection.

"If you think you can sodding torture me into telling you anyth-..." he began, opening his eyes again and having the sentence cut short when he met her meaningful gaze as she rose to her knees and moved as though she was getting off of him.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her back down to sit on his stomach and she smiled triumphantly.

"I don't know," he answered her, practically growling, though he couldn't help but smirk at her pleased expression. "I don't know how hard I'd have to fight if the chip ever did come out..." He suddenly wavered and she furrowed her brow, about to ask him why he had gotten a look of remembering something on his face that had made her feel as though that something had to do with her when he continued: "All I can say is that I know I'd be able to control myself. And I wouldn't kill."

He knew it was true. When she said what she had earlier, as she declared her belief in something better in him, all his will to go out and hunt had scattered. He knew he would never do anything to disappoint her. Not ever. And so...

"There something I have to tell you," he said slowly, sitting up and making her move to the side of him as he faced her.

She frowned, quizzical to the gravity on his features.

"I've lied to you," he confessed and she felt like a rock began to build in the pit of her stomach.

If it was allowed to keep growing she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to move again. A thousand premonitions of the horrible things he could say was coursing through her head. That he had been toying with her, that his emotions weren't real and that now that she had actually made it clear that he had gotten her where he wanted her he could cut her loose, that Angel had been right and that now that she was down on her knees before the bleached blonde he had already lost interest in her.

Spike could see how she was tensing up and he thought it best to get this over with as swiftly as possible.

"When you asked me what Adam had said that he'd give to me in return for my favors, I lied when I said that he'd give me money," he admitted; and the hesitant and anxious look in his eyes showed his emotions in a way she had scarcely been able to read on him before as he continued: "He promised me he'd get the chip out... I dunno why I didn't wanna tell you. I really can't explain why I didn't just tell you... I just..." He trailed off, then his gaze grew earnest as he finished: "I'm sorry."

She observed him, then she suddenly began to laugh.

He stared at her, swallowed hard and decided to wait for the outcome of this outburst.

She dried her tears nearly three minutes later, one hand clasping the aching spot of her stomach before she threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around him in a hard hug. He hugged her back, relieved but yet confused.

"Apology accepted," she whispered in his ear before she pulled back to look at him, a tentative smile forming on his mouth as well.

She was so relieved that she couldn't find words for it. He had lied, but now he had told her the truth and the fact that he had done that made it all the more obvious that she was right in trusting him.

Her eyes suddenly grew slightly.

That was the first time she had actually given voice to that thought in her head.

She did trust him. Well, of course she trusted him... falling in love with him would otherwise be completely out of the picture. But... it must have snuck up on her because she had no idea when she had started doing so. At the rather wondering look on his face she smiled once more, warmly, and then she kissed him with everything that she felt inside in that moment.

Suddenly there was the sound of something harshly throwing open the first door of the crypt and Buffy had barely enough time to grab a sheet and tumble down behind the sarcophagus before the second door flew open, and through it, filling the doorway with his shadow before taking the step inside, came Adam.

Something told Spike that the look of pure fury on the formers face did not bode well.

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