AN: Thanks so much to my beta, Mel! You're the best.

< --- >

The room hushed as Faith came in. “How'd the Bringer thing go?” one of the Potentials asked.

Faith grinned. “Five by five; they're chaining him up now. It's only a matter of time before we get him to talk.”

Kennedy glanced at the slayer, not entirely pleased. After Buffy had left the previous night, Faith had said she would be a better leader. As far as the Potential was concerned, Faith was only filling Buffy's shoes.

As the other Scoobies drifted in, the front door slammed. “Hi, everyone!” Andrew's voice called. Groans filled the air simultaneously.

Andrew toddled into the kitchen, heading straight for the cookies. Xander glared at Spike, who had followed Andrew in. “And you didn't dump him on a curb because?”

Spike snorted. “Tried, mate. Didn't work.” His annoyed look was soon replaced with a grin as he said, “Where's Buffy? Got a bit of info she might like.”

The gang shifted uncomfortably, but Spike didn't notice, merely rambling on. “Turns out, she was right! There IS somethin' down there, in the vineyard, and Caleb's only tryin' to keep it from her!” His grin broadened. “Be easy to get down there, but there's no need for all of you to go; Buffy and I'll go get the weapon or whatnot, and you can all stay here.” When no one said anything, he began to frown. “Where IS Buffy, anyways?”

Dawn cleared her throat. “She's, uh, not here right now.”

“When will she be back?” he asked, though his voice was lower this time. A hint of suspicion was in his eyes as he glanced at them. “Or is she not comin' back?”

Heads shot up in surprise at his accusing tone. Spike stared at them incredulously, before chuckling slowly. “I'll be damned,” he said, his voice quiet. “You mutinied, didn't you?”

“Well, it wasn't mutiny, but...” Willow started, but Spike cut her off.

“Then what would you call it?” he seethed, his gaze narrowing at the sheepish group. “You toss out the one person who's kept you all alive so far, saved the world countless times, died for you,” he added, his stare shifting to Dawn. Dawn swallowed and looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

Spike turned back to the group, enraged. “And this is how you thank her? You couldn't have talked it out? Do you even have a clue as to where she went?”

Anya shook her head. “Of course not,” Spike scoffed, about ready to rip their hearts out. “You ungrateful, miserable...”

“That's enough,” Faith cut in, glaring at him. “We've had enough speeches to last us a lifetime.”

Spike stared at her, before breaking out into laughter. Faith's glare intensified. Who did he think he was, coming in and yelling at them for a decision they'd made?

“So, you're the new 'leader',” Spike sneered. “I can't believe this. After everythin' you've done, Buffy let you back in, trusted you, and you turn on her because you can't stand the fact that she's got a plan and you don't?”

Faith's fist shot out, catching him on the jaw. Spike shook his head as he climbed to his feet. “You won't make it,” he told them. “Not without her.”

“We don't need her,” Kennedy retorted, looking smug.

She swallowed and crouched back at the look he was giving her. “You're all children playing with something you can't even begin to comprehend,” Spike said, his voice dangerously soft. “The one person who has stood by you through everything, risked her own life numerous times to save yours, has now been shoved out, because you don't like her method?”

He turned to the Scoobies, his voice still low. “Shouldn't have to remind you that she never signed up for this. She wanted a normal life, and instead, got stuck with this. Told me once that as long as she had you lot, she'd be all right.” He snorted at their dejected faces. They didn't deserve Buffy, any of them.

“She's probably out there takin' care of Caleb,” he added, glaring at Faith. “Doin' what a Slayer should be doin': fightin' the good fight.”

Her fist went forward once more, but he was ready for it this time. He caught her hand in his, crushing her hand in his. Only when she gasped in pain did he let go.

“When did she leave?” Spike asked quietly.

Willow swallowed. “Y-Yesterday.”

Spike swore, using words Faith rarely used, and headed outside. He sniffed the air, his stomach lurching as he caught a hold of her scent. Old, but still there. He could smell her grief, shock, and despair as she'd been told to leave.

Shaking his head, he followed her scent away from the house.

< --- >

She curled up, trying to stay warm. No one would look for her here, and this was the safest place she could think of. What better way to stay away from demons then to hide among them? She began to laugh at her logic, her voice rising to the point of hysterical. Her laughter soon turned to sobbing as she wrapped her arms around her knees, allowing herself to fall to the right. What had happened?

She'd been caught up in the excitement of finally laying a firm blow to the First, and ending all the misery. She gagged at the memory of Xander's face, so tired, so much pain...and then the argument.

Faith, it seemed, had been playing the cool girl, winning their attention. And Buffy? Buffy had been left to be the evil mother who made them do their stretches, eat their oatmeal, and reprimand them. Faith got to be their friend, and Buffy their enemy. Just like before.

Buffy hadn't learned their names simply because she hadn't. Hadn't wanted to get too attached, and hadn't had the time. She was also a horrid person at remembering someone's name. Robin should know; she'd messed up his name three times before getting it right. As long as they were alive, that was all that mattered to Buffy.

Once Buffy had realized what had been happening, she'd tried to turn the conversation around, ready to apologize and talk things through. That was when Dawn had asked her to leave. Her own sister, telling her to go. Buffy's heart had stopped beating as she'd stared at the girl she'd died for, before turning to the door.

Faith had half-heartedly tried to stop her, the others had glared at the dark-haired slayer, so Buffy had merely told her no. That final slam of the door behind her had caused tears to roll down her face. It was over.

She rocked back and forth on the floor, still sobbing. They had been right: Buffy wasn't the one they needed. It was Faith. Faith, who knew the girls and wouldn't put them at risk, like Buffy had. Faith, who would stand by their side and get them through it all. Faith, who would be the one to take Spike's hand and heart.

At the thought of Faith and Spike, she began to sob harder. From Angel, to Riley, now Spike, Faith would sweep in and take them all on a pleasure filled trip of happiness and hope.

She was so wrapped up in her misery that she didn't hear the door opening.

< --- >

From the heart-wrenching sobs coming from the downstairs, Spike knew he'd found her. What the bleedin' 'ell was she doing in his crypt, though?

He'd followed the scent steadily, and had discovered that it had led to the cemetery. It had gathered at Joyce's grave, and Spike had paid his silent respects before carrying on. He'd been surprised to find the scent getting heavier as he headed for his crypt, which had been padlocked.

Or so he'd thought. The padlock was laying in the grass when he arrived, and the door was slightly ajar.

He closed the door behind him and headed towards the sound. He pulled up the trapdoor and quietly made his way down into the bottom, which wasn't lit. Only with his vampiric senses could he see her at all.

Buffy lay on the floor near the remains of his bed, curled into a fetal ball. Her sobs wracked her small frame, or was that shivers from the cold?

Kneeling next to her, he pulled her into his arms. She gasped at the touch, fighting against him weakly.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “It's me. Buffy, it's just me.”

Buffy looked up, choking back a sob. “S-Spike?”

He tried to smile at her. “I'm here.”

She began to cry again, latching herself onto him. Spike held her, with no intention of letting go.

When her sobs began to cease, Spike pulled back to look her in the eye. “I know what happened,” he said softly. “Ungrateful wretches.”

Buffy shook her head, sniffling. “They weren't wrong, though. I-I was willing to risk them all to get Caleb. They're b-better off with Faith.”

Spike grasped her shoulders, shaking her slightly. “No they're not! Buffy, listen to me. You were right: there's somethin' down there that Caleb doesn't want you to have.”

“There is?” she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

Spike nodded, then rolled his eyes. She couldn't see him, it was so dark in here. “Yeah. Hold on a sec,” he said, standing. He searched around until he found a packet of candles in the corner. Within minutes, the crypt was illuminated in the glow. He turned, wincing at his first good look at her.

Buffy's hair hung each and every way, knotted and disheveled. Dirt coated her hands and face, and her eyes were red with tears. Her lower lip wobbled, and every now and then she would sniffle, her nose resembling Rudolph's.

Spike went back over to the distraught girl, gathering her in his arms once more. She leaned into his embrace, grateful that he hadn't followed Faith. And before she knew it, she'd voiced her thoughts.

Spike stared at her, surprised. “You thought I'd follow that...” He took an unnecessary breath, holding his opinions of Faith in check. “Why would you think that?” he asked, frowning at her.

Buffy closed her eyes. “Because she's fun. Because she's obviously got what it takes. Because she's better then me,” she added in a whispered tone.

Spike caught the last line, his frown deepening. She thought what?! “You listen to me,” he said, shifting so he could look her in the eyes. Once he had her gaze, he began. “She may be fun and games, but she doesn't understand what it means to sacrifice everything for the mission, and they're gonna realize that pretty soon. And no, she doesn't have what it takes. YOU do,” he said, smiling at her.

Buffy looked away, but Spike's hand reached out, cupping her face.

“Look at me,” he said, bringing her gaze back to his. “Not done yet. She is NOT better then you. She doesn't even come close,” he said forcefully.

“She surpasses me,” Buffy argued, but Spike shook his head.

“No, she doesn't. How could you even possibly think that, let alone believe it?” he asked incredulously.

Buffy bit her lip. “I wasn't talking about just slaying,” she said quietly.

Spike frowned, then let his mouth drop open as he realized what she getting at. She turned to look anywhere but at him.

He remembered when Faith had come down, flirting with him. That had been the day they'd attacked Caleb. Buffy had come down, an odd look in her eyes as she'd caught sight of the two of them. He hadn't been able to figure out her emotions at the time, but now he knew what they'd been: jealousy. Fear. Disappointment.

“You thought that'd I'd stay with Faith because I was attracted to her?”

Buffy cringed slightly at his words, a motion that didn't go unnoticed by Spike. “She's sexier then me,” she mumbled under her breath.

He heard her, however. He chuckled and leaned forward, whispering, “You let me be the judge of that, pet.”

He was rewarded with a small blush. “I knew what she was doin',” Spike remarked, snorting slightly. “The girl screams 'sex' like a billboard.” At Buffy's crestfallen look, he caught her chin with his finger. “Doesn't mean I wanted her.”

Buffy glanced up at him, hope flaring in her watery eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, leaning forward. “Let me tell you something, Buffy. I'm in love with only one Slayer, and it's not her. The slayer I'm in love with is strong in more ways then one, beautiful, graceful, and so many other things I can't name. She'll stand up for what she thinks is right, and she's my inspiration. Her kindness shines around her, and whatever she puts her mind to, she devotes her whole heart to. I've seen her at her best, her worst, and I know one thing: she's the one.”

Buffy's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but they weren't ones of grief. “I love you, Buffy,” he whispered.

She sniffled, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled her into his embrace, his fingers running through her hair.

“I'm glad you're here,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “I...I didn't want to be alone.”

Spike's eyes filled with tears at the thought of her alone, shunned by her supposed friends and family. “Never be alone. Ever. I promise.”

“Stay with me?” she ventured, so afraid of rejection.

He had to bite his lip to hold his own sob in. “Always,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He eased out of his duster and covered her with it. He then leaned against the wall, keeping her in his arms.

They fell asleep that way, wrapped up in each other.

< --- >

Buffy looked down at the sleeping warrior in her arms. He'd saved her last night. From her own despair, her fears and insecurities, and doing something stupid involving Caleb.

His voice echoed in her head. I've seen her at her best, her worst, and I know one thing: she's the one...I love you, Buffy...

Gazing at him in sleep, she knew that he was the one for her. She ran her fingers through his loosened hair, loving the feel of his curls in her touch.

He'd given her a gift last night: a purpose to keep going. She knew what she had to do now. She just didn't want to.

She dug around the crypt, finding a box of things Clem had left when he'd deserted the place. Paper and pencils were among them, and in no time she was writing a note for him to find.

She set the pencil down ten minutes later, sighing. She didn't want to leave him, but she had a mission. She had to take down Caleb, and take what he was guarding. She laid the folded note next to Spike, gazing at him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, memorizing his image in her head. This could very well be her last fight. Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead, then took a deep breath and headed up the ladder.

< --- >

Spike yawned and stretched, careful of Buffy sleeping next to him. The last thing he needed to do was wake her, after her emotional breakdown. He almost snorted at the thought. Wankers. He pulled her closer, inhaling her scent. A beautiful scent, like...leather?!

Spike shot up, fully awake. His duster lay in his arms, no Slayer under it. A quick glance around the crypt told him she was gone.

He groaned, letting his head fall back and crack against the wall. Great. Just great. It was daylight, so he couldn't follow her. Why did she always run?

Miserably he stood, taking his duster with him. A soft rustling sound had him turning in time to see a piece of paper fall from the duster. His name was written on the front, and it took him less then a second to recognize the handwriting. Hers.

Quickly he knelt, dropping the duster. With a sense of trepidation he opened it and began to read.

Spike read through it twice, before he set the letter down. He leaned against the wall and began to cry. For not realizing what she would do sooner, for not waking to stop her, for fear of her safety. More than those, he cried for the sincerity in her words.

She loved him, and for all he knew, it could be too late. He growled, wiping his tears away. “Not if I have anythin' to say 'bout it,” he said, hurrying to the sewers.

He tugged at the door. New tears rolled down his face. She'd blocked it from the other side. “BUFFY!!” he screamed, sliding down to his knees. She could be hurt, dying, or already dead, and he was stuck here, unable to help her.

“Yes?”

His head shot up, eyes widening at the sight of her. Bloody, out of breath, but with new life in her eyes. She was also sporting new weaponry.

“Buffy?” he breathed, afraid that the First had come to haunt him, tell him she was gone.

She smiled, heading towards him. Kneeling in front of him, she set the scythe to her right. “I'm here,” she assured him, cupping her hand around his cheek.

Stifling a sob, he pulled her into his arms, not caring if he was crushing her or not. “I couldn't help you,” he choked out.

“I had to,” she said quietly. “I didn't want you to get hurt.”

“So you said.”

She pulled back, still smiling. “I meant every word,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered, leaning forward. Their lips met, tentatively at first, before the passion began to build.

They broke the kiss, both panting. “Missed that,” she said.

“Buffy?”

She frowned slightly at his serious tone. “Yeah?”

“I think your speeches are very, VERY good.”

She began to laugh, and soon he joined in. Then they were kissing, and speeches suddenly didn't matter anymore.

THE END