The figure that lurked behind the dusty window pane clenched his fists together and took a wobbly step backwards. Did he really just see that? Was it only his imagination? Did Buffy really just... did she really... ? No, no, no. It couldn't be. Buffy would never do that. Not his Buffy. Especially with...

An angry sob escaped his lips, knowing that what he saw was real. He wasn't stupid. But why would she... ? How could she... ?

Angel let out a defeated sigh, as the tears welled up in his dark brown eyes. He fell to the ground, trying to come to terms with what he just saw. His Buffy was no whore. She would never let someone abuse her like that. Not unless they forced them self on her.

A light bulb seemed to go off in his head at this conclusion. That had to be it! Spike forced himself on Buffy. Because why else would she let him do those things to her? She wouldn't. Plain and simple. Especially not with the likes of him. Especially not with the man who kidnapped her. God knows what else he did to her... beat her? Raped her? The possibilities were endless. And disturbing at that.

His precious, pure Buffy was tainted. Ruined for him. Scarred and broken.

And he was the only one who could save her.

~~~

Spike sat at the desk, his chair facing the bed. In actuality, he was only about fifteen feet from where Buffy was sitting, but it felt like a hundred miles. She was leaning against the headboard, scribbling down notes in her makeshift journal. They hadn't said anything to each other since their... encounter together. Spike had immediately gotten out of the bed to make the situation a little less awkward, and had been sitting in a hard, wooden chair ever since. But he hadn't taken his eyes off of her. He briefly wondered if she could feel his eyes boring into her, even though she couldn't see him.

The sun was now setting, casting an orange-like glow across the small room. It was so quiet--too quiet, almost. Spike couldn't take the deafening silence any longer and decided to break it. "Buffy, are you alright?" he finally asked.

She flinched at the sudden intrusion of his voice. "Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah. Hence why I'm asking."

"Why, Spike? Why are you asking? Is it because you care? Because I really matter to you?"

He frowned at the hostility of her words. She continued to write though. Her hand never stopped moving, as the words flowed out onto the lined paper. "I want to know is all. You're awfully quiet."

"I'm writing."

"Maybe we should talk."

She snorted. "Please."

Spike stood up and slowly approached the bed. "I know that wasn't you, Buffy."

"No, it was Shania Twain."

He sighed. "I mean... that's not how you normally act. And I'm sorry if I upset you. I just--"

"Spike?" she interrupted.

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Bloody hell, woman. I'm just tryin' to make amends here."

"I don't want anything from you. Not your pity, your apologies, or your consolation. Understand? What we did is done. I made a mistake. I let my... something rathers... get the better of me, and I made a mistake. So let's just pretend it never even happened."

Spike would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit intimidated by her. This was a side of Buffy he hadn't ever seen. A side he didn't know existed. This girl was rough--more harsh. And he didn't like it. "Fine," he replied, after a few moments went by. "It's erased. Never soddin' happened, alright?"

"Good."

"Fine."

More silence filled the room and Spike shifted on both feet, hands in his pockets.

Buffy finally let out a deep breath and tossed her pen and paper onto the bed. "You know what? I lied. Let's talk."

"Uh, okay."

"And be honest with each other," she added.

"Of course."

Buffy swallowed and ran her hands through her blonde mane before speaking. "I don't know you, Spike," she began, leaning back against the pillows. "I know that you're British, had a really crappy past, and have exceptionally defined cheekbones. But that's all I know. I mean, I don't even know you're real name."

"It's William," he told her. "My name is William."

"Okay, William," she nodded. "One more thing to add to my steadily increasing list."

Spike sat down next to her, but not too close as to make her uncomfortable. He listened as she proceeded to talk.

"My point is, you were right. That wasn't me. I don't usually... do that kinda stuff. Hell, Riley waited almost two years before I finally gave him what he really wanted."

"You... you're not a virgin?" He had to admit, he was surprised.

"No, I'm not. I had sex with Riley two weeks before the accident. It was awkward and strange and I've been celibate ever since. And..." Her voice softened and the familiar blush colored her cheeks. "I had never, um, gotten off before. Until today."

When he saw her blush, he almost had to sigh in relief. Buffy was still in there--this was just a temporary exterior. Then he blinked a few times, realizing the confession she had made. "You never had an orgasm before?"

Again with the blushing.

"No," she admitted. "So what happened today was just a little too real for me. I mean, you kidnapped me, Spike. You threatened to kill me, and really haven't given me any reason to believe you're not going to go through with it. And what's really scary is that I don't know what it is exactly I'm scared of. You... or myself."

Spike was silent, not knowing what to say.

"I don't expect you to understand what I'm going through. To know that the only person you can depend on is one who wants you dead. To know that your life, your future, is in someone else's hands. And also not knowing. Not knowing when you're going to take your last breath. And not knowing why you're suddenly having ridiculous dreams about the one person you should be trying to run from." She sighed. "It doesn't make any sense."

"If it helps any, I dream about you every night."

Buffy arched a brow. "I've heard you talking in your sleep twice now. The first time you thought I was Drusilla, and the second time you were babbling about Bugs Bunny. So I'm not even going to ask because that just disturbs me on so many levels."

He smiled a bit, before returning to serious-mode. "I do know what you're going through to some extent," he explained. "I'm supposed to hate you. I'm supposed to kill you. But now all I want to do is kiss you."

"But you can't," she quickly stated. "You know, kiss me."

"Right."

"Because it would be bad."

"Very bad."

"And just because we kissed in my dream, doesn't mean I actually want to kiss you. It was just a dream."

"And just because we kissed when you drunk, doesn't mean you actually liked kissin' me. You were just drunk."

"Of course."

"Exactly."

Buffy paused for a moment and her eyes grew wide. "Wait a minute. What was that last part again?"

~~~

The sun had gone down hours ago, but Buffy and Spike didn't seem to notice. They had formed an unexpected bond after the fight they'd shared, and neither of them knew what to make of it. The awkward tension was gone, the sexual urges were repressed, and the bitter words were stored away for another day. The mood was comfortable and safe, and the stories they told spoke of refreshing memories and faded dreams that had been long since forgotten--until now.

"You're a spaz," Buffy declared, a smirk on her face. "I mean, who the heck wants to be a biochemical engineer when they're five years old? Fireman, teacher, baseball player, I get. But, jeez. Could you even pronounce that when you were five?"

Spike chuckled. "I was bright for my age. My father taught me well."

"My childhood fantasies sound so lame compared to yours."

"Why? What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"Don't laugh," she ordered. "But I wanted to be a ballerina."

"You'd make a beautiful ballerina, pet."

She frowned. "Sure. Just as long as I was in a room with no walls or any other objects I could crash into in all of my blindness."

"Guess that puts a damper on it," he decided. "But we were young. We couldn't have known life would get in the way."

"Yeah," she agreed, her mood darkening. "Life's a bitch like that."

"That she is."

Buffy sighed, realizing for the first time how intimate they were. Not physically, considering they both had at least a few inches between them, but emotionally. "This is new," she said, wrapping her arms around her body.

"What is?" he wondered.

"Us. This. I-I mean, I feel like I should be trying to bash your head in right about now, but I don't want to. And in some weird, twisted way... I feel almost liberated. Free."

"Free?"

"Yeah, isn't that strange?"

He thought for a moment. "Not really. I feel the same way."

"But I'm the captive here," she rolled her eyes. "I should feel all captivey. Not snuggly wuggly with the bad guy."

"Snuggly wuggly?" he said, incredulously. "Do us a favor, love, and promise not to use that phrase in relation to me again."

She laughed. "Seriously though. It's like, as much as I miss my house and my mom and dad... in a way, I don't. My parents fought constantly, I had people waiting on me hand and foot, I had no one to talk to." She sighed. "Not to mention, our maid had this really funky smell."

"You can't feel that way, Buffy. You had it made back there."

"No," she shook her head. "I really didn't. People don't understand what it's like to have everything handed to you. What it's like to never have to work for anything. It's almost... degrading. And I love my parents, I do, but they just don't get it. They don't know what it's like to be so alone. To feel so dead inside."

Spike knew that feeling all too well. To feel dead and empty. He never would have dreamed Buffy felt the same way. He assumed she enjoyed the attention and perks of having a rich father. What girl didn't? But part of him wondered how Buffy could suddenly view her current situation as a positive thing. She was being held against her will by a man she couldn't even see. How was that liberating? If anything, that was degrading.

"Spike?"

He shook his musings away for the time being. "Yeah?"

Her voice was small as she asked, "When you kill me... could you make it quick?"

Her question hit him like a fierce blow to the stomach. It was like the wind was knocked out of him and he suddenly felt sick. "Don't talk like that," he forced out.

"What do you mean?" She sounded honestly confused.

"You heard me. Don't bloody talk like that. End of discussion."

"Didn't mean to make you all grumpy," she pouted. "It was a fair question. I mean, you're going to kill me, right? That was plan?"

Yeah. That was the plan. Then he had to go and fall for her.

"Listen, Buffy--"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of the door being kicked open. Buffy and Spike both jumped into sitting positions and turned to face the intruder. Spike's mouth went dry.

Angel stood there, his arms crossed over his chest. And with a sneer curling at his lips, he said, "I've got a proposition for you."

Buffy gasped when she heard the familiar voice. A dozen different emotions washed over her: relief, regret, fear, hope, uncertainty. What was Angel doing here? How did he find her? And... what was going to happen now?

Spike was thinking along similar lines. Only the emotions he felt, solely consisted of 'stupid ponce' and 'oh, fuck'. There was no doubt in his mind that Angel was behind this now--how else could he have known? Nothing was indicated regarding Buffy's whereabouts at the cleaners. But somehow, Angel knew he had her and knew exactly where to go. He must've followed me, the son of a bitch.

Angel advanced on Spike, a bit of swagger in his step. "Nice place," he stated casually, eyes on Buffy the entire time. "Didn't mean to interrupt the cozy little chat you two had going there, but what can I say? I like to make an entrance."

"You mentioned somethin' about a proposition?" Spike said, standing his ground.

"Yeah, I did. Glad you were paying attention."

Buffy just sat there, wishing she could see what was going on. "Angel?" she finally whispered.

"I'm here, baby. I've come to take you home."

"Like hell you are," Spike spat.

"Hey, now," he remarked, arms up in defense. "Didn't come here to fight, you know. Just to talk."

"So talk, mate. Haven't got all day."

Angel's eyes narrowed at the shorter blonde man. "Alright. The deal is this: I walk out of here with Buffy and no one will ever know you had anything to do with this."

"How do you figure?"

"I'll say I found her on the side of the road or something. It won't be hard to make a story up. But if you refuse, I'm going straight to the police."

It was deadly silent, as the three of them waited for Spike's answer. He said nothing.

"Maybe this will move your decision making along," Angel sighed, and threw a suitcase at Spike's feet.

He flipped the latches and opened it, revealing an ungodly amount of crisp, green, hundred dollar bills. He swallowed.

"Does that help?" the taller man smiled.

Buffy sat anxiously in her place on the bed, wringing her hands together. She figured Angel had just offered Spike money to set her free, but so far Spike had said nothing in regards to this sudden turn of events. His lack of response was making her crazy. But what was making her even crazier was the fact that she wasn't even sure what she wanted his response to be.

"Well, Blondie?" Angel prompted.

Spike didn't look at him, didn't say anything. His mind was reeling and his heart was breaking because he knew what he had to do. What else could be done? The feelings he had developed for Buffy were only growing stronger by the day, and it was getting harder and harder to keep her here against her will. It just wasn't right.

So, Spike looked at it this way: he had learned a great deal during his time with Buffy--probably more than he had learned in his entire life. How to feel, how to laugh, how to live. They were all things that he never really knew how to do. And to make this a well-rounded lesson, there was only one thing left to learn.

How to say goodbye.

Lifting his head to look at Angel, he closed the suitcase full of money and handed it back to the man.

Angel was incredulous. "You're not seriously--"

"Take her and get out."

Buffy tensed, not expecting those words to hurt so much. Not another second went by before she felt Angel's hand curl around her wrist and help her off the bed. She noticed, as she stood up on wobbly legs, that his touch was cold and unfamiliar. And somehow, on some extremely fucked up level, this felt wrong.

But she had no time to puzzle out what she was feeling, because she was being lifted off her feet and carried out the door by Angel. No goodbyes, no fleeting touches, no nothing. She was gone--just like that. Spike was out of her life forever. And there was nothing she could do about it.

"Angel?"

Her voice was soft and scared, and it floated to his ears like a long lost caress. "Yeah, baby?"

I'm not your baby. "You didn't let me say goodbye."

Angel frowned, as they made their way out into the afternoon glow. The sun was warm and welcoming, in contrast to Buffy's usual presence. She seemed distant and removed--not like a girl who had just been rescued. "Excuse me? Why the hell would you need to say goodbye? He kidnapped you, Buffy. I saved you."

She suddenly realized how stupid she sounded and closed her mouth without answering him.

He decided to chalk that statement up to post-traumatic stress and instead of interrogating her, grabbed her close and held her tight. "I thought I lost you. You're okay, right? He didn't hurt you too much?"

"He didn't hurt me."

Relieved, he took her hand and walked her over to his car. A few minutes later they were on the road.

"What are you going to tell the police?" Buffy wondered.

"That he kidnapped you."

Her heart sunk. "But... but, I thought--"

"C'mon, Buffy. You don't think that whole crap about me finding you on the side of the road was really going to work, did you? And why should I cover for him? He's a monster."

"He's a man," she quickly corrected.

Angel glanced at her, worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay? He didn't, you know... brainwash you?"

Buffy sighed. "No. I'm fine."

"Good."

"Don't mention him though, Angel. Make something else up. Please? For me?"

"That's crazy talk. This guy needs to be behind bars."

She didn't respond. How could she convince Angel otherwise, without sounding like a deluded freak? Instead she asked him the one question that had been plaguing her mind since the day Spike kidnapped her. "Did you put him up to this?"

Angel slammed on the brakes so hard, that if Buffy wasn't wearing her seatbelt, she would have feared for her life. "How the hell can you ask me that?" he demanded, his voice full of raw emotion. "How can you think that for one second I would want you killed? I love you, Buffy. I saved you from him."

"You didn't just save me to be my knight in shining armor? It's not completely unheard of."

"I can't believe you're asking me this," he shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm sorry. I just..." She swallowed and put her head down. "I was kidnapped, Angel. Someone out there wants me dead, and I just thought maybe--"

"That maybe it was me? The one person who's loved you and been there for you since as long as I can remember? You're breaking my heart, Buffy."

She could tell that she was. He sounded genuinely wounded. And now she felt genuinely stupid. "You're right," she said. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

"He filled your head with that crap, didn't he?"

"No."

Angel grit his teeth together, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. But he said nothing more, and instead just listened to his passenger's steady breathing.

Buffy felt the sting of tears pierce her sad, green eyes as they continued their drive back home. It would only be a little while longer before she would be in her mother and father's arms again and life would go back to the way it was.

As she closed her eyes, one question stood out in her mind. Then why do I feel so miserable?

~~~

When the door slammed shut, Spike's legs gave out. For some reason, he just couldn't will himself to stand anymore.

Buffy's gone.

He slumped to the floor, as his back leaned against the side of the bed. He knew he should probably get out of town as soon as possible. He didn't believe for a second that Angel was going to cover for him. And as much as he wanted to believe Buffy would, she left without any acknowledgement whatsoever. Not even a goodbye.

So, why should she say goodbye? What did she owe him?

Absolutely nothing, that's what. Sure, she had warmed to him somewhat, but all she really wanted was to go home. And maybe things were better this way, afterall. No more Buffy, no more feelings he couldn't explain. Because maybe he wasn't meant to change. Maybe he was destined to be alone and bitter for the rest of his life. Buffy had brought out a spark of humanity in him--she somehow, with her charm and wit and genuine heart, had brought him to life. Made him feel real, whole. It wasn't something he'd ever felt before. He was used to the dead void in the middle of his heart.

But now she was gone. And that fire she had lit inside of him had burned out the second she walked out that door. He knew that nothing could ever happen between them--not really. She was rich and beautiful and he was scarred and broken. And the whole kidnapping and threatening to kill part probably didn't help matters.

Get a grip, you git. Buffy's gone and she's not coming back. And you better get the hell out of town if you don't want to spend the rest of your pathetic life behind bars.

He ran his hands through his hair and finally stood up, sparing the room an indignant glance. He then gathered the few items that were worthy enough to take with him, including the Care Bears sweater, and stuffed them into a bag. He decided he'd give Willy a call on his way out of town.

Fuck. Willy's gonna kill me.

He sighed and threw the bag over his shoulder. Just as he was about to open the door to leave, someone knocked on it. He figured it was Vince, wondering what the hell was going on.

Or the police, comin' to drag your sorry ass to prison, he thought. But he opened it anyway.

And promptly froze in place when he saw who was standing before him. With a sharp intake of breath, he finally let the name escape his stunned lips:

"Buffy."

"Stop the car."

Angel glanced to his right, a worried expression on his face. "Are you alright, Buffy?"

She shook her head softly. "Please. Just stop the car."

"Fine," he sighed, and pulled off to the side of the road.

They sat in silence for a few moments, before Buffy finally spoke. "Take me back."

Her voice was barely a whisper, and he almost had to wonder if he heard her correctly. "What did you just say?"

"I said take me back."

A little louder, a little clearer... a little more obvious that Buffy had gone insane. "No way!" he exclaimed, thrown by her words. "There's no way in hell I'm taking you back to that place. Are you crazy?"

She nodded. "I think so."

"You need help, Buffy. A doctor or something. You've been through a trying ordeal and... let's just get you home and--"

"Angel?"

His eyes were still wide as he stared at her. "Yeah?"

"Do you really love me?" she asked.

"Of course I do. More than anything."

Buffy ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. "I can't explain it," she began, knowing she was making the stupidest decision of her life. "I really can't. I just... there's just something about him. I don't know what it is, but I want to find out. And I don't expect you to understand. Hell, I don't understand. But if you really love me, you'll do this for me."

"Put your life in danger? Possibly get you killed? Not gonna happen."

"Angel, please. I know I'm taking a huge risk, but--"

"Risks are what almost ended your life. You're blind because of it."

"This is different."

"How? How is this different, Buffy? You're talking about going back to the psycho who kidnapped you."

She closed her eyes and put her head down. "I know."

"And you just expect me to turn around and take you back to him? Well, I won't."

"He made me feel something, Angel. I haven't felt alive since..." Tears were now threatening to spill. "I can't explain it, I can't. But I have to know."

His jaw clenched. "Know what?"

"If... if he can make me happy."

"And I don't?"

Buffy blinked back the salty droplets. "You're my friend," she told him. "I care about you, I really do. And I'm sorry we couldn't be more, but my heart isn't with you."

"But it's with him?"

"No. I don't know." She let out an exasperated sigh. "That's what I need to figure out."

Angel shook his head. "This is insane."

"It is. I'm not denying that. But... I need that feeling. The moment you carried me out that door, it faded. And I want it back."

"You're attracted to him," he stated, matter-o-factly. "You're attracted to him because he's dangerous. That's all it is, Buffy--lust. Nothing more. You can't make this kind of decision based off of that."

She absorbed his words and they rang true. Maybe Angel was right. What if Spike really did have it in him to kill her? What if all she was feeling was attraction and it got her killed?

No. She was smarter than that. She had felt good-old-fashioned lust before, but this went deeper. This was different. And she had to know.

"Maybe you're right," she finally said. "But I want to find out."

"Damnit, Buffy!" he shouted, smacking the steering wheel. He accidentally hit the horn, making her jump. Trying to reign in his raging emotions, he took a deep breath and counted to ten. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you," he whispered to her.

Buffy smiled softly, touched. Angel really did care about her--she only wished she felt the same way. "Spike won't hurt me," she tried to convince him. And maybe herself in the process. "I promise to call you in a week. If I'm wrong... you can come pick me up, okay?"

"And if you're dead?"

"I won't be."

Angel sighed. "I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this."

"I know it's crazy. But you just have to trust me."

"I can get into a lot of trouble, you know."

"Not if the police don't know. Just keep quiet until I call. We'll work everything out then. Please?"

He looked at her, the confliction clear on his face. "I love you, Buffy. And I want you to be happy." Holding back his own tears, he finished, "And if this guy can give that to you, I won't stand in the way."

Buffy's smile brightened, and she leaned over in her seat to hug him. "Thank you, Angel. You won't regret this."

As they turned around and headed back towards the hotel, Angel sighed. I certainly hope not.

~~~

I can do this. I can do this. Just knock. Get it over with.

"Are you sure you don't want me here?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. I can do this on my own. But thanks."

Angel nodded, reluctantly. "I'm gonna take off then. Call me, alright?"

"I will. Promise."

He leaned down and kissed her gently on the head. "Goodbye, Buffy."

"Bye, Angel," she smiled, the butterflies swimming in her stomach. She heard him head back down the stairs and they only started swimming faster. I'm on my own now. Angel's gone and it's just me and Spike.

God. How did I get myself into this? I should just tell Angel to take me home. This is too insane. I can't--

And then she was knocking. Okay. See? I knocked. Not so hard. Now all he has to do is answer the door and I can get this over with.

Shit. What am I supposed to say to him?

But before she could think, she heard the door open. She chewed nervously on her bottom lip, waiting for him to speak.

"Buffy."

Oh, god! Now what?! She opted with silence and continued to stand there and chew nervously on her bottom lip.

"Buffy, my god. What are you--?" Spike stood frozen at the door, unable to take his eyes off her. "Why did you come back? I thought I'd never see you again."

I can't do this. She finally opened her mouth to speak and said, "I forgot my journal."

Spike just stared at her. When her words finally sunk in, he took a step back. "Right," he nodded, crushed. "Your journal."

"Yeah." Oh, by the way, Buffy Summers? You're an idiot. Disappointed with herself, she put her head down and crossed her arms over her chest. When he didn't make any move to help her in, she continued to stand there dejectedly. "Can you--?"

"Oh. Of course," he replied, realizing for the hundredth time that she was in fact, blind. He reached out and wrapped a hand around her upper arm, gently leading her through the doorway.

Buffy practically melted at his touch. How could something that felt so good, be so wrong? she idly wondered, following his lead. She unconsciously leaned her body weight against him, desperate for the feeling to last.

When they finally reached the bed, Spike was reluctant to let go of her. She was so soft, so warm. So real.

Her hands wandered around the bed until she found the pillow, and pulled out the loose papers. She clutched them to her, all too aware of the fact that Spike's hand was still on her arm. "You can let go now," she said softly.

He dropped her arm like fire. "I'm sorry."

"Why did you let me go?"

Spike frowned. "You told me to."

"I mean before. Why did you let Angel take me away?"

"Because you're not mine to keep," he told her truthfully. "Keeping you here was wrong. We both know that."

"But it's your job. You're supposed to keep me here. You're supposed to kill me."

"It stopped being my job a long time ago," he whispered.

Buffy swallowed and sat down on the bed. "I'm supposed to hate you."

"Don't you?" he wondered, curiously.

"No," was all she said.

"You should."

"I want to."

Spike let a small smile surface, as he looked down at her. She appeared to be nervous and fidgety, while tapping her foot against the hard floor. "So, you've gotten what you came for then?"

"Yes."

He helped her stand up again, his touch lingering once more. "You should get back. Angel's probably waiting for you," he told her, his voice low and his lips too close to her cheek.

But she didn't pull away. She knew Angel probably was waiting for her. He wouldn't have left that easily--he still held hope that she would change her mind. And even if he had left already, she could always use Vince's phone to call him up.

She could still leave.

"I'll walk you to the door?" Spike offered.

He's so close. He could kiss me right now and I would let him. God help me, I would let him...

"Buffy?"

She shook herself out of her daze and nodded her head slowly. "Right. Angel waiting. Me leaving."

"That was the plan."

She sighed. "Yeah."

He walked her to the door as said, and held it open for her. She stepped out into the hall.

"Wait," he stopped her, before she could distance herself further from him.

"Spike, don't." She held out her hand to prevent his words. "Just don't."

"I can't even get a proper goodbye?"

"Do you really deserve a proper goodbye?"

His shoulders sagged. "No. I suppose I don't."

The tears began to well up in her eyes again, as the conflicting emotions battled it out inside of her. She came back to prove something to herself. So, why was she so scared to prove it? She knew that the second she walked out of this hotel for good, she would regret it. She would never know if Spike could make her happy.

Buffy already knew that he could make her miserable. She knew that he could make her burn, make her cry, and confuse the hell out of her. But could this man--so lost, so broken, just like she was--could he really make her happy?

"Spike, I have a confession to make," she finally told him, not letting herself think any longer.

He took a step towards her. "Tell me," he said.

"I didn't come back for my journal."

Hope shone through his eyes, but she couldn't see it. Instead he placed an unruly strand of gold behind her ear and whispered softly, "Then what did you come back for, love?"

Buffy's eyes fluttered closed and she whispered right back, "You."

Spike blinked, but didn't say anything.

"It's stupid, I know. I just--"

"Bloody right it's stupid."

Buffy flinched, not expecting that reaction from him. I go through all this trouble and he doesn't even want me here? "But... I-I thought--"

He took a step back from her, removing his hand from her face. This should be a good thing, right? Buffy had developed feelings for him, just like he wanted. So, why was her confession tearing him up inside? The thread of hope he had felt just moments ago faded as soon as the word escaped her lips. You.

"Spike?"

He sighed. "I let you go for a reason, pet. You shouldn't have come back."

"Excuse me?" she asked, incredulously.

It was silent.

Aside from the loud smacking sound that echoed through the hall.

Spike touched the tingling flesh from where Buffy had just slapped him. "You hit me," he stated the obvious.

Her bottom lip was trembling and her palm stung. It was a miracle it even came in contact with his face--she had never slapped someone while she was blind. But then again, she never really felt that anyone deserved it. Until Spike. "How dare you," she spat, eyes watering.

"Buffy--"

"How dare you make me feel these things. How dare you make me..." She swallowed, before finishing, "Care."

"I didn't plan this, you know," he explained.

"Yeah, I know that much. You planned to kill me, right?" she laughed derisively. "I mean, I risked everything just now. I risked my life, my future, Angel--all because of you. And what do you do? Throw it in my face."

"That's not what I'm doing!" he insisted. "I'm just tryin' to do the right thing here. You deserve better than this, Buffy. You deserve a life, and a future, and hell, even Angel! You shouldn't have sacrificed that for somethin' neither of us can explain."

Vince suddenly appeared at the base of the staircase. "You kids alright?" he wondered, taking a big bite out of a hotdog.

Spike nodded mutely and Buffy just stood there, taking in his words. Vince shrugged and went back to his desk.

"Let's go inside," Spike said softly, taking Buffy by the arm and leading her through the door to his hotel room.

She followed weakly. "I just thought you'd be happy," she finally said, when he shut the door behind them.

"I am happy, Buffy. God, I'm happy--I never thought I'd see you again. But that still doesn't make it right."

Buffy took a deep breath and leaned back against the door. "I don't know what's right anymore. To go back home, even though it drives me crazy? To stay here with my kidnapper and try to figure out what exactly it is I'm feeling for him? I just don't know, Spike. I feel so... lost."

He approached her then and she stilled. He had to let her know just what she had gotten herself into. "Can I kiss you?"

Her eyes widened. "What? No! Stop asking me that." She pushed him off of her and stalked towards the direction of the bed.

Spike grabbed her by the elbow and spun her around to face him. "What did you expect? Huh, Buffy? That you'd come back and nothing would happen? That we'd sit around and talk about our problems 'til the end of time? Not bloody likely."

"Not everything's about sex, you know," she told him, pulling her arm free.

"No, not everything. But this?" He pointed between the two of them. "This is. You can't be that naive."

"I didn't come back to have sex with you!" she insisted. "I just... wanted a friend. Someone who understands."

"We'll never be friends."

"We'll never have sex!"

He was close to her again. Buffy took a few steps back, until her legs hit the bed.

"I beg to differ," he purred, his voice the epitaph of seduction.

She couldn't help but shudder. "You're wrong."

"Often am. But not about this. You came back because, if you didn't..." His lips brushed against her ear and she closed her eyes. "You would never know how good it could be."

She shook her head, trying to ignore his effect on her. "I'm never going to know because it's never going to happen. Deal with it."

Spike pushed her down so she was sitting on the bed. She squeaked in surprise, as the mattress bounced beneath her weight.

"C'mon, love," he grinned. "One quick shag. I'll make it good for you."

"No!"

With one sudden movement, she was forced onto her back, her wrists pinned above her head. Buffy's heartbeat picked up and she could sense the familiar emotion bubbling inside of her--fear. Maybe I made a mistake? she questioned herself. Maybe Spike really is capable of hurting me.

Spike noticed her breathing pick up and the frightened gleam in her emerald eyes. "What is it, Buffy? Scared?"

"N-No."

"No point in lyin' to me, sweetheart. I can practically taste your fear." He lowered his head, so his lips whispered a kiss upon her trembling mouth. "Tastes good on you."

Buffy began to struggle beneath him. "Stop it! Get off me, Spike."

"What if I don't? I could take you right now and you'd beg me for more."

"You're sick."

"You came back."

She stilled then, her chest heaving. Realization dawned on her. "You're trying to scare me," she said. "You think I made a mistake."

Spike finally loosened his grip on her wrists. Then he let go completely and stepped back from the bed. "Didn't you?"

Buffy sat up, swatting her tangled blonde hair out of her eyes. But she didn't say anything.

"You came back to a very dangerous situation with a potentially very dangerous man," he continued. "You don't know me and you don't know what I'm capable of. I could've raped you just now and killed you right after that. Is that what you want?"

"What I want is to be happy," she countered. "I want a life I can actually live. You have no idea what it's like to be in that house, Spike. I'm trapped and smothered and lonely every minute of the day. My parents mean well, they do. But they just don't know what it's like to feel so dead inside."

Spike listened to her carefully, trying to discover what exactly it was that made her come back to him. And he found it in that last sentence. "But I do," he stated softly. "I know what it's like. That's why you came back."

She nodded. "I tried to explain, but you wouldn't listen. You insisted I just wanted to jump your bones."

"Well, that has to be part of it."

Buffy quirked a brow.

"Oh, c'mon. At least twenty-five percent."

A smile tugged at her lips. "You wish."

"That I do, love," he smiled back. "That I do."

"But it can never happen," she reminded him.

"What?"

"You know. The... sexy stuff."

"And why is that?"

"Because! I might be attracted to you, but I'm not a slut. So, what happened earlier? No repeat performances of any kind."

He rolled his eyes. "You really think sleeping with me would make you a slut?"

"Well, duh. It's not like we're dating or anything."

"So? This is the 21st century, pet."

"Doesn't make it right."

Buffy decided not to mention the fact that she probably would participate in the "sexy stuff" if the situation presented itself. There was just something about him that set her senses on fire. He made her feel beautiful and desirable. He made her feel free.

But those were things she would just have to keep to herself.

Spike sighed. The purely male part of him was frustrated and disappointed by her lack of willingness to get physical with him. But the other part of him--the part that rarely showed itself--was touched by her innocence and vulnerability. It was something rare and pure and it made his heart smile. "You're a hell of a woman, Buffy Summers."

Her head shot up. "I'm what?"

He leaned down to kiss her gently on the top of the head. His lips lingered there for a fraction longer than necessary, but he reluctantly pulled back. "You heard me," he said, before stepping away from her.

Buffy sat there, repeating his words over and over again in her mind. When she heard him disappear into the bathroom, she let out a breath of air she had been holding and closed her eyes.

And then she smiled.

She could hear the voices to her left. They seemed so far, but she could make out their words with perfect clarity.

Her voice grew softer as her pleas ceased. In no time at all she felt herself sink deeper and deeper into the darkness, unknowing of the fact that she would never escape it...

"No! No, no, please!" Buffy shrieked, her arms and legs flailing about. "He can't be dead! Let go of me! Let GO of me!"

"Bloody hell! Wake up, Buffy!" Spike shouted, shaking the tormented girl. She scratched at his arms and screamed at the top of her lungs. He had been with her for almost two weeks now, and never once had she had a nightmare like this. "Wake up!"

Her eyes opened suddenly, wide with terror and pain. She sat up, and Spike noticed that her entire body was shaking.

"God. Are you alright, love?"

Buffy looked around frantically, still only seeing the darkness. "Spike? Where are you? I-I can't see you..."

"I'm here, Buffy," he said, reaching out to touch her face. "Shh, it's alright. You were just havin' a nightmare."

"No, no, no. Not again," she cried, tears falling down her cheeks. "It wasn't a nightmare. Riley's still dead and I'm still blind. It wasn't a nightmare, Spike. I-It really happened. Oh, god, I can't do this anymore!"

And then she was crawling into his arms, wrapping her tiny body around his and sobbing into his shoulder.

Spike held her tightly, trying to give her the solace she so desperately needed. But part of him knew that nothing could be done to make her forget. He couldn't change the past and he couldn't erase her memories. What happened to her three years ago would forever haunt her, and he couldn't do anything but hold her close and let her cry. It could never be enough, but it was all he had to give. Words were meaningless in times like these.

Buffy continued to mourn in his embrace, still shaking from the dream. She hadn't had one so vivid in years. But the only thing different now was that she wasn't alone. And she never wanted to be alone again--it was always worse that way.

Sniffling back her tears, she lifted her head from the crook of his neck. She would give anything to see him right now. His eyes were blue, but how blue? His lips were soft, but what shape? She tried to draw an image of him in her mind, but nothing fit. Instead she reached out her still quivering hand, and cupped the side of his face. His skin was like silk beneath her palm and it was warm to the touch. "Are you in love with me?" she asked.

He froze, thrown by her question. Where the bloody hell did that come from? Swallowing, he answered her. "I don't think I'm capable of loving anyone."

She smiled, hand still resting on his face. "We're all capable of loving, Spike. The hard part is actually finding it."

"Why are you asking me this?"

Buffy shrugged her shoulders, and looked down almost sheepishly. "Sometimes I wonder if Riley knew that I loved him. What if he died and didn't know?"

"I'm sure he knew," he told her.

"But what if he didn't? I mean, I could die tonight and never know if anyone truly loved me."

"Buffy..."

"Do you know how scary that would be?" she continued. "To know that you lived a life without love?"

"Buffy, people love you. Your mum and dad. Riley and Angel."

She let out a deep breath. "I guess. I just worry sometimes. I don't want to die alone."

"Chin up, love. You're not going to die anytime soon."

"So says the guy who plans to kill me."

Spike scowled. "I'm not going to kill you."

"We'll see."

He frowned at that, hoping his little act earlier hadn't scared her too much. "I'm sorry about before, Buffy. I was just trying to..." He sighed. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," she said. "I don't care about that."

"Then what is it? You're actin' like it's the end of the world or something."

She shook her head. "It's just..."

Spike noticed her voice catch in her throat and the tears begin to swell in her eyes. "It's what, pet?"

"I... I just want it to go away. Can you make it go away?"

"Oh, Buffy..." He pulled her close again, as her tears fell. "I wish I could."

"But you can," she murmured into his shoulder. "Just for one night you can."

This caught Spike's attention and he took her by the shoulders, so he could look into her eyes. He knew her meaning all too well. "Not that way," he explained. "Not like that."

"Why not?" she sniffed. "Don't you want me?"

"That's not the point."

"Sure it is. You want me. I want to forget. So we have sex."

Spike growled. "That's not the kind of girl you are."

"No, but it's the kind of girl I can be."

She then leaned down and began peppering kisses along his neck, biting and nibbling here and there. He felt his cock jump in his pants at her actions, despite his better judgment. She ground her heat against him and he moaned under his breath.

"See? I knew you would like it like this."

Spike finally regained the control he still had left and managed to push her off of him. She landed next to him on the bed, her eyes wide.

"No, Buffy. Not like this."

She chewed on her bottom lip and looked down, as if a wave of embarrassment suddenly hit her. He noticed through the darkened room a hint of blush creep up her face. "I-I'm sorry," she said. "I... I'm just sorry."

Spike watched as she hopped out of bed and carefully made her way to the bathroom. It was really the only place to go when they needed to be alone.

He sighed and lay back down on the bed. What just happened? What made Buffy act that way? He assumed her dream had taken quite the toll on her and she did just want to forget, but he had never seen her behave so boldly before. Except when she was drunk, but that didn't count. And what prompted the question about love? And her fears about death? Something was obviously going on with her--Spike just didn't know what.

A few minutes later he heard the shower turn on. Shrugging, he switched on the television, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep anytime soon.

About a half an hour went by and the shower was still running. Then forty-five minutes. Then an hour...

Eventually Spike became worried and approached the bathroom door. He knocked lightly. But when there was no reply, he knocked a bit louder. "Buffy? You alright in there, love?"

Still no answer.

He knew that there was no shower curtain, so to open the door would be risking a lot. But somehow he felt that if he didn't open it, he'd be risking so much more. So when Buffy still didn't respond after the first three attempts, Spike slowly turned the door handle. "Buffy?"

He poked his head in and his eyes found the bathtub immediately. Buffy was curled up in a ball shivering, as the ice cold water pelted her from above.

"Buffy, my god," he exclaimed, dashing over to the tub. "What the fuck are you doing?" He quickly turned the faucet off and knelt down beside her. "Buffy!"

She stared straight ahead, teeth chattering. Her lips were turning blue and her whole body was shaking violently. She was naked, her arms wrapping around her legs, bringing her knees up to her chest.

Spike didn't waste another minute, before reaching for a towel and wrapping it around her trembling form. He stood her up on wobbly legs, ignoring the fact that she was standing nude before him. He had to practically lift her out of the bathtub and place her back down onto the cool tile. Her skin was wrinkled from the excessive intake of water and her hair was dripping icy droplets down her body.

"We need to get you warmed up," he told her, pulling the towel more tightly around her and leading her out of the bathroom. He quickly replaced the material with the large bed comforter and used the towel to dry her hair off. "Can I ask what you were doing in there?" he questioned, after a few silent minutes went by.

She didn't answer him right away. Her dry lips parted a couple of times, but no sound emerged from them.

"Buffy, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Finally, Buffy spoke. "It's all my fault. I just wanted it to go away," she said, her voice dry and raspy. "I just wanted to forget. To forget what I did."

"You didn't do anything, pet," he tried to explain. "And it's not your fault. Riley died because he made a bad choice. You're lucky to be alive."

"But I'm not," she shook her head. "Not after what I did. God, I must have ruined his life."

"I'm sure Riley's in a better place."

She shook her head again, but didn't respond.

Spike sighed. "You should get some warm clothes on you. You're shakin' like a leaf."

"Why do you even care?" she asked him. "Why do you care if I live or die?"

"We've been over this before, love. I care because I care about you. Don't know what you do to me, but I can't help but want to see you well. You've changed me somehow."

Buffy put her head down. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Changing lives. That's what I do best."

He looked at her, trying to see what she was hiding from him. He knew there was something. But instead of pushing the matter further, he stood up and approached the dresser drawers filled with her clothes. Picking out the warmest outfit he could find, he went back over to the bed to help her dress.

But Buffy was already curled up in the covers resting peacefully.

With a sad smile, Spike climbed into bed next to her and tentatively put his arm around her small form. Instead of pulling away, she nestled deeper into his embrace.

Whatever needed to be said could wait until morning.

Buffy groaned as the sun filtered in through a nearby window. A chill washed over her and goosebumps prickled on her naked flesh.

Wait. Naked?

With a squeak, she quickly pulled the covers up over her, shielding her nudity from any wandering eyes. It was then that she realized she was spooned up against Spike's chest.

But naked?!

It took a few moments for her mind to get back in touch with reality. Everything was hazy and blurred. But when the previous night's events finally graced her memory, nausea swept over her and she swallowed back her humiliation. What the hell had gotten into her? All she remembered was waking up cold and naked in the shower. And then Spike came in to save her.

That memory filled her with renewed warmth. The way he had been gentle and careful with her--the way he dried her hair and tucked her into bed. She sighed, unconsciously leaning back into his embrace.

But that still didn't explain why she was taking an ice cold shower in the middle of the night. It was like part of her mind had a huge, black void in it. As if it didn't want her to remember. She gulped at that. When your own brain wants to hide stuff from you, that can never be good.

Meanwhile, Spike was dreaming. It was a good dream. One that consisted of Buffy, warm and naked, spooned against him.

Thankfully, it only took him another minute or so to realize that he wasn't dreaming at all. Buffy was, in fact, warm and naked and currently in his arms. And in all honesty, he had never felt more content. He stirred beside her and she only leaned into him deeper, bringing a smile to his face. "Mornin', pet," he acknowledged.

She must not have noticed he was awake, because she stiffened. "Oh. H-Hi," she stuttered out.

"How are you feeling?"

Buffy blushed. "Stupid. And, well... naked."

"You fell asleep before I could get some clothes on you," he reminded her, arm still linked around her waist.

"I guess I was tired."

"I reckon almost freezin' to death took a lot out of you. Not to mention the nightmare."

She frowned at that. "Nightmare?"

"Well, yeah. Don't tell me you don't remember."

"Okay."

A beat.

"So, you remember then?" he inquired.

"No. But you told me not to tell you if I didn't."

Spike sighed. "Figure of speech, love. How can you not remember that? You were screamin' your soddin' head off. Then you spouted off some rot about death and love... and then you practically threw yourself at me. You don't remember any of this?"

Eyes wide with confusion and embarrassment, she shook her head. She was thankful that her back was turned to him--she knew she was blushing like crazy. "I-I don't remember any of that. I just recall waking up in the shower freezing my ass off."

"Right. Well, that came after. Had me worried sick, you did."

"I'm sorry. I must've acted like a total spaz. But... thank you for helping me," she said, gratefully. "You didn't have to."

"Don't have to do anything now, do I?"

"I guess not. But still--thank you."

He smiled. "Anytime."

Buffy shifted a bit under the weight of his arm, feeling an odd mix of awkwardness and comfort. The awkwardness coming from the fact that they weren't together like that, and the comfort coming from the fact that maybe she wanted--

No, no no. You don't want that. You don't want to be his girlfriend and you certainly don't want him.

She rolled her eyes at her brain.

Spike noticed her shift and promptly removed his arm, almost unaware of the position they were in. Buffy was nude beneath the covers, as they lay in bed together. And even though he was still fully clothed, it was still an extremely intimate position.

Strictly reserved for couples and lovers. Not for them.

With a reluctant stretch, he finally sat up in bed, careful not to pull the covers away from her. "Want some clothes?"

"Sure," she replied. "Clothes come in handy during times of nakedness."

He let a small grin surface as he searched the drawers for some of her clothing. "Almost everything's dirty," he grumbled. "I'll make a stop at the cleaners again today. In the meantime, put this on."

She sat up, holding the sheets to her chest, and took the item from him. "Carebears?" she smiled, immediately recognizing the material.

"Yeah," he smiled back. "It's comfortable, right?"

"Very. All sorts of comfy." Buffy disappeared under the covers to slip on the sweater, and popped back up a few seconds later. Her hair was sticking up from the static of the blankets, and she quickly matted it down. "So, are you going to the one in Sunnydale?"

"I was thinkin' about it. Don't have much of a choice."

She nodded. "Be careful. Angel knows and... well, just be careful."

"Always am," he said, grabbing his keys off the dresser. "You'll be okay?"

"Yes, I'll be fine. I'll go and take a hot shower and write a bit in my journal."

"I should be back in a few hours," he told her. "And I'll pick up some sandwiches for lunch."

"I'd like that. Thanks."

Spike turned towards the door. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" Something was nagging at him. It didn't feel right leaving her alone like this. But taking her with him was just too risky.

"I told you, Spike. I'm good. I'm great. Just go and do your thing, alright?"

"I know, I just..." He had an urge to kiss her goodbye, but quickly dismissed it. "Right then. I'll be back."

"Bye," she said.

"Ta, love."

She heard the door click shut and immediately flopped back down onto the bed with a sigh. Buffy didn't like being alone, especially in a strange place in the middle of nowhere. But she didn't want Spike to think she was incapable of taking care of herself. Sure, she was more vulnerable than most people, but she still had her pride.

Deciding she was too lazy to get up and take a shower at the moment, she instead reached under the pillow and took out a piece of paper and her pen. She instantly began scribbling away...

Just before Spike reached the door to the hotel, Vince stopped him.

"Where ya goin'?" he demanded, leaning forward on his desk.

"Out," he mumbled, in a hurry to get out and get back.

"Is the brat upstairs?"

"Where else would she be? And she's not a brat."

"Whatever, dude. You comin' back soon?"

He sighed. "In a few hours. And make sure... just keep an eye on her, okay?"

Vince grinned. "Not a problem."

Spike hurried out the door and into the morning sun.

~~~

"Tra la la la la la la," Buffy sang, writing away on her paper. "One banana, two banana, three banana, four... something, something, something, and I forget the words... tra la la la--"

She was cut off when the sound of the door creaked open. Spike's back already? That was fast... "Something the matter?" she asked, curiously. "I thought you said a few hours. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. And hey, I can deal with dirty clothes. Or we could just wash them in the tub like they did in the good old days. Then we can hang them up to dry and..." Her voice trailed off when she realized she was not only babbling, but Spike had yet to respond. "Spike?"

"Sorry to disappoint, sweetcheeks."

Her eyes grew wide when she recognized the voice. "V-Vince. Hi. I, um, wasn't expecting you."

"Blondie told me to keep an eye on you. Does that bother you?"

Yes! Go away, you big, scary guy! "No, no. I was just... surprised."

He grinned and closed the door. "But you like surprises, yeah?"

"Uhh... depends on the surprise," she laughed, awkwardly. A gulp managed to accompany the awkward laugh when she heard him getting closer. "I'll be fine, though. You really don't need to be here."

He crossed the room, and was suddenly leaning right over her. "I beg to differ, darlin'."

~~~

Spike hummed idly to himself, as he drove down the deserted dirt road. Mostly to get his mind off other things. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel in time with his humming, and he reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. "Bloody hell," he grumbled, coming up empty.

Luckily, there was a gas station right before his exit, so he pulled into the parking lot to buy a pack. Turning off the engine, he jogged inside. Before heading towards the counter, Spike decided to check out one of the isles and pick up some Tylenol. Snatching the small bottle, he quickly turned around but stopped in his tracks.

The row of condoms caught his eye. Yeah, right, you sod. Like you'll be needing those... But an image of Buffy grinding her small body against his flashed into his mind. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed a box. "Just in case," he muttered, and hurried off to the check-out counter.

"You all set?" a tall brunette asked.

Spike nodded and reached into his pocket for his wallet.

Only he couldn't find it. "Bloody hell," he groaned, double-checking each pocket again and again. Finally, he looked up at the woman apologetically. "I forgot my bleedin' wallet. Mind if I come back?"

"Whatever," she shrugged.

He nodded, and made a swift exit.

~~~

Buffy scooted towards the opposite end of the bed when she felt his presence above her. "R-Really," she insisted. "I'm fine, I swear."

"That you are," he leered, licking his lips. She really was a pretty little thing.

"I-I mean, I don't think it's necessary, you know? Spike just worries. And--"

"I think I like your mouth better when it's shut," he decided, staring at her perfect cherry lips. "Even though I could put it to much better use."

"I don't think so." She was definitely scared now. Blind, half naked under the bed covers, and with no one to save her--she was in trouble. With a quivering breath, she whispered, "Please don't hurt me."

"Hurt you? Baby, that's the last thing on my mind." He paused to reconsider this statement. Then corrected himself with a sneer: "Well, it's not the first thing, anyway."

Buffy didn't think twice before darting out of the bed. But she didn't get far, because Vince immediately clamped his pudgy hand around her upper arm and threw her back down.

"No!" she gasped, struggling to break free of his hold. "You don't want to do this."

He climbed on top of her, pinning her arms above her head and holding her legs still with his own. "Sorry, but I really, really do."

Meanwhile, Spike was speeding back in the direction of the hotel cursing up a storm. "Can't believe I forgot the fuckin' thing," he mumbled under his breath, turning into the hotel lot with a squeal of his tires. "Waste of bloody time this is."

Stepping out of the car, he slammed the door shut and headed inside.

"Stop it! Get off me, you jerk!" Buffy screamed, squirming in his grasp. Unfortunately, her attempts only seemed to encourage him.

"Yeah, that's it," he laughed. "Scream as loud as you want, peaches. Nobody's gonna hear ya."

Tears started to spill down her cheeks as she struggled. I'm going to get raped. Right here, right now, her mind was telling her. "P-Please... please stop this," she cried.

He answered her by ripping her Carebears sweater right down the middle.

"NO!!" she shrieked.

"Oh, yes."

Spike stopped at the base of the staircase when he heard the scream.

Buffy's scream.

Moving on pure instinct, he ran up the stairs two at a time and started banging on the door. "Buffy!"

"Stop it, stop it... oww!" he heard her cry.

"Fuck!" he growled. Instead of bothering with the keycard, he decided to put his police training to good use. Taking a step back, he ran forward and kicked the door down with all the momentum he could muster. It crashed to the floor and Vince jumped up off the bed.

"Spike, dude, I was just--"

"I'm gonna rip your fucking head off."

Buffy quickly pulled the covers back up and listened as Spike charged at the larger man.

"Get off me, man! I was just playin'!"

Spike didn't hear him and began pummeling his face with his fist. "You son-of-a-bitch. How dare you fucking touch her!" he shouted.

Vince finally regained his strength and pushed Spike off of him. But it wasn't long before he was tackled once more and Spike was reigning more punches to his face.

"Ow! You broke my fuckin' nose!" the man cried in pain.

Finally deciding that his work was done, Spike stood up and dragged a bloody Vince to his feet. "If I see your ugly face again, I swear to God I'll be breakin' more than that."

"You're kickin' me outta my own hotel?" he demanded, incredulously, red fluid dripping down his battered face.

"I'm kickin' you out of this goddamn town."

"But--"

Punch.

Vince went flying backwards and landed on the broken plank of wood, that used to be the door.

"Out," Spike seethed.

Getting the message, Vince scrambled to his shaky feet and hurried out the door and down the stairs.

Letting out a deep breath, Spike picked up the broken door and leaned it against the entryway the best he could. "We need to get out of here," he said quietly. "Vince knows where we are. There's no tellin' what he might do."

Buffy swallowed back the remnants of tears, but didn't say anything. She clutched the blanket to her chest, her eyes wide and glossy.

"Are you hurt?"

She nodded.

"Where?"

Her lips parted to speak, but nothing came out. So instead of telling him, she lowered the blanket.

Spike frowned and stepped closer to her, trying to see where she was injured. "I don't see anything."

Buffy blushed and carefully pushed the material of her sweater aside. "H-He bit me," she finally said softly.

He sat on the bed next to her, eyeing her chest. But the wound still wasn't fully exposed and he reached out a tentative hand to move the ripped sweater aside. "Can I?" he asked hesitantly.

She finally lowered her arms and nodded, trying to force back the rush of blood to her face.

Taking the soft fabric between his fingers, he moved it slowly to the right, eventually revealing the extent of her injury. There was a large welt on the swell of her breast that was already starting to bruise. Teeth marks were evident, along with traces of blood. Spike's own blood boiled and he had to clench his fists together to keep from breaking something. "If I see that bastard again, I'm going to kill him," he forced out, trying to keep control over his emotions.

"I'm okay," she lied, trying to ignore the fact that her breast was still exposed to him. "It just stings a little."

"God..." he shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Buffy. I should never have left you here alone."

"You couldn't have known this would happen."

He closed his eyes and re-opened them, then covered her chest back up. "I picked up some things last time I went out," he explained. "I have some bandages and alcohol."

"Okay," she nodded.

Spike stood up and went to retrieve the items. When he returned, he sat back down next to her, a little bit closer than last time. "Here," he said, reaching for her shirt again. "I'm going put some alcohol on it."

Buffy moved the material for him and joked lightly, "Couldn't he have chosen a more convenient place to bite? Although I'm sure you're not complaining."

He paused and glanced up at her. "This is serious, Buffy. I'm not doing this for the free view, you know. You're hurt. I want to help."

"I know. I was just... trying to lighten the mood."

He sighed and returned his attention to her wound. His eyes were fixated on it, his mind running with the possibilities of what could have happened had he not come back. Setting down the bottle of alcohol, he took his finger and grazed it ever so lightly against the surface of the bite mark. He felt her flinch, and couldn't help but notice her nipple harden beneath his touch. Swallowing hard, he removed his hand. "Uh..." He cleared his throat. "I'm going to put the alcohol on it now. It might burn a little."

Buffy nodded, also not oblivious to her body's reaction to him. "I've felt worse."

Taking that as his cue, he poured the liquid onto a cotton ball and dabbed the injured area as gently as he could.

She hissed and fisted the bedsheets tightly, as the burning sensation washed over her.

"You okay?" he asked, concerned.

"I'll live."

He then took a large white bandage and placed it over her wound. "That should do it."

She smiled softly. "Yeah. Thank you, Spike."

"You're welcome." His fingers lingered on the bandage longer than necessary and his voice lowered, "Just glad you're alright is all."

Buffy shifted on the bed and swallowed, unnerved by his nearness. This isn't supposed to be erotic in any way, Buffy Summers. He's just trying to help you. Get a grip! her mind scolded her, but that still didn't change the way her body was reacting to him. "Um, yeah," she replied. "I'm glad, too."

Spike noticed the breathy tone in her voice, and looked up at her with curious blue eyes. He saw the pink flush on her cheeks, signaling only one thing--arousal. Other parts of him picked up on this as well, and he knew that he should back away before he did something stupid.

But before he could move, Buffy raised her hand and rested it on his own--the one that had been lingering on her bandage. He swallowed and watched in fascination as she lowered both of their hands, so his fingertips brushed up against her rosy nipple. Spike sucked in a breath at the contact and his nether regions hardened in response. "Buffy--"

"I-I'm sorry," she quickly interrupted, dropping her hand. "I'm just being stupid a-and... stupid, and--"

"--I'm going to kiss you now."

She froze. "I... I-I thought I told you to stop asking me that," she stuttered, sensing him near her.

"I'm not asking this time."

The next thing she felt was Spike's mouth on hers--gentle and caressing. She knew she should pull away, but it was as if he was breathing life into her... and there was no way she could pull away from that.

Spike was hesitant at first. The kiss was nothing but a soft whisper filled with promises of more. He wanted to give her a chance to push him away, no matter how much he needed this. But she didn't, so he took what she was giving him and went with it.

Buffy gasped when he finally deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to tickle her lips. She invited him inside immediately and the kiss only intensified when their tongues collided.

It was hard now. Brutal and raw and absolutely wonderful. Spike cupped her breast with his hand and lowered her back onto the bed. She moaned beneath him, reaching out her hands and tangling them in his hair.

"Touch me," she whispered, pulling back to breathe. "Please..."

He groaned into her mouth, grinding his cock against the wet heat between her legs. Pushing her tattered shirt up all the way, his hand traveled from her breast, across her flat stomach, and down to her aching juncture. "You're so wet for me, Buffy," he said, before placing another kiss upon her trembling lips.

She swallowed hard and spread her legs wider for him. When his fingers found her clit, she gasped and arched up on the bed. "Y-Yes," she panted.

Spike pinched the hardened bud again, loving the way her eyes widened and her toes curled in response. "Mmm," he sighed. "You're beautiful."

Buffy was about to comment on that, when she suddenly felt his fingers being replaced with his mouth. Consequently, an "oh, god!" was all that came out.

Lowering himself between her legs, he immediately darted his tongue out to taste her. Sweet juices invaded his mouth, making the erection in his jeans harden even more. He wanted nothing more than to take her now, uncaring of the consequences. But instead he continued to pleasure her--continued to lave his tongue up and down her dripping slit and bring a silent scream from her parted lips.

"D-Don't stop," she pleaded, reaching down and taking his head in her hands to hold him there.

"Never, baby." He sucked on her harder, rolling her clit between blunt teeth and nibbling gently on the surrounding flesh. He felt her body tense, on the verge of exploding, and held her hips in place. Giving her swollen clit one last lick, she finally came, shuddering around his generous mouth.

When the sensations subsided, she fell back onto the bed with a gasp.

Spike lightly kissed the inside of her thigh, before crawling back up her spent body. "Did you like that?" he asked softly, running his knuckles over the surface of her tender cheek.

She let out a quivering breath and nodded her head.

He smiled. "Good."

Buffy felt him begin to roll off of her. She stopped him. "What... what about you?" she questioned.

"Nothing I can't handle, love."

"B-But, isn't it better if I... you know, handle it?"

Blush crept up her face and Spike kissed her nose. "Another time," he said. "Right now you need your rest."

She finally let go of him. "But you'll be back?"

"Of course." But before he turned around, he leaned over and kissed her hard, making her gasp. When he finally pulled back, a huge grin was on his face. "I'll never get tired of doing that."

As Spike retreated into the bathroom, Buffy touched her fingers to her lips. "Me either."

"We have to go, pet."

Buffy had fallen asleep in the time it took for Spike to emerge from the shower. She was resting beneath the covers, tossing and turning.

"N-No," she mumbled, eyelids fluttering. "It's not... I just..."

"Wake up, love. You're just dreaming," he tried, brushing a few strands of gold from her damp forehead.

It was his touch that brought Buffy out of her restless state. She opened her eyes cautiously, and smiled up at him when she noted his presence. "Spike?"

"I'm here. You've got to get up though--we need to leave."

"What? Why?" She yawned and stretched, finally sitting up in bed.

"I told you before. Vince knows about us. The police could be on their way as we speak," he told her.

"Do we have to?"

Spike frowned. "Well, yeah. Don't you want to get out of here?"

"I dunno. I don't mind it, really."

"So, what--you thought you'd come back and we'd make this our happy home? We're in a bleeding hotel room in the middle of nowhere. It's not exactly what dreams are made of," he explained.

"I didn't say that. I just..." She sighed. "Where else is there to go?"

"Don't know. Thought we'd play it by ear."

"Lovely," she grumbled.

"Hey, now. It's not like we've got much of an option. I'd like to take you home--"

"What? No way. You'll be thrown in jail the second you step foot in that town."

"So?" he countered. "I belong in jail, Buffy."

"No, you belong with..."

Spike glanced at her, but she stopped herself. "Well?"

Shaking her head, she began to climb out of bed. "Nothing. Let's go."

Buffy sat there for a moment, as she listened to him move about the room collecting their things. She had almost slipped and said something ridiculous. You belong with me. That wasn't really how she felt, was it? It was just her silly emotions getting the better of her. Plus, throw in a little Stockholm-Syndrome, not to mention the fact that he's an amazing kisser, and of course she would be questioning her feelings.

Oh, please. You know you're crazy about him.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to ask him, "Do you regret what happened earlier?"

He paused, mid-packing. "Do you?"

Buffy absently picked at the bedsheets, chewing on her bottom lip. "I'm confused," she admitted.

"About what, pet?"

"You. This," she said, gesturing between the two of them. "Pretty much everything."

Spike ran a wary hand through his platinum, blonde hair and sat next to her on the bed. "Buffy, do you want me to take you home?"

She swallowed. "I... I don't know. I mean, I miss my family and stuff, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to go back there yet."

"Why not?"

"Well, the whole freedom thing is kinda nice."

He put his head down and was about to stand up, but Buffy grasped his arm before he could.

"And because I'll miss you."

"That's nice, Buffy, but you don't have to sugar coat it," he sighed.

"That's not what I'm doing."

"What are you doing then? What the hell is going on between us?"

"I-I don't know," she confessed.

He stood up and ran his hands over his face. "This is so fucked up."

Buffy frowned at that. "It's not like I planned this, you know. It's not like I meant to fall for you."

"Well, it's not like I--" Spike stopped, realizing what she had just said. "Wait a minute."

She crossed her arms, almost defensively. "What did you think?" she asked softly. "I didn't want this to happen, I didn't. It just... did. And I don't know what to do."

He swallowed. "I didn't realize you felt that way."

"I came back, didn't I? I let you kiss me... touch me. You know I'm not like other girls. How could you not realize I had feelings for you?"

"Because I didn't want to," he said, sitting back down. "I didn't want to believe that I was someone you could care for or want to be with. I don't deserve that, Buffy."

"God, why does it always have to be about that?" she rolled her eyes. "I don't deserve to be alive, but I am. We both made mistakes in our life, but that shouldn't stop us from finding happiness."

"And being with me would make you happy?" he asked, almost hesitantly.

"I don't know, but I want to find out."

Spike couldn't help the elation he felt at her words. He smiled and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "This might not work," he warned her, pulling back to look her in the eyes. "You know that, right? I could be in jail by the end of the day. I'm a wanted man."

"I know." She put her head down for a moment before replying, "So, can we just pretend that you're not?"

"It's not that easy."

"Well, let's make it that easy." Her eyes suddenly lit up and she climbed over to him, straddling his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Let's get out of here. Let's just drive and drive. Far away--where no one could ever find us."

"Buffy, that's crazy."

"So? Let's be crazy then. Hell, we wouldn't be in this situation if we weren't crazy. You wouldn't have kidnapped me and I would have left when I had the chance."

"We can't, pet. What about your family? What about your life?"

"We can come back," she continued. "Let's just go. Please? Only for a little while. Let's just... get away from it all."

He sighed and rested his hands on her hips. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. Canada? I've never been there."

"Me either."

She smiled. "So, what are we waiting for?"

Spike didn't know what to say. He knew this wasn't right--he knew he should take her home and turn himself in. This girl was in his arms, asking for a fantasy he knew would only take them so far. Escaping reality was not the answer, no matter how appealing it may sound. And part of him wondered if he was even relevant to her in this fantasy. Was he just a means to an end to help her obtain this unreachable dream? Was she just using him to grasp onto a world she so desperately wanted? Spike didn't know. He wanted to believe that Buffy had honorable intentions and that he wasn't just along for the ride. But part of him also found that sentiment incredibly naive.

Then there was the part of him that just didn't give a shit, one way or another. He would do whatever it took to keep this girl in his life--to keep her out of harm's way and to hand her that fantasy on a silver platter, regardless of the consequences.

And that's the part of him that won.

"Alright," he finally whispered, resting his forehead against her own. "Canada it is then."

"Really?" she squealed, hugging him closer to her. "You mean it?"

"I mean it. But we have to go now--we've waited too long as it is."

Buffy grinned from ear to ear. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She then leaned down and kissed him hard on the lips. "You won't regret this."

Spike placed his hand behind her head, keeping their faces close to one another. "No," he smiled. "I don't think I will."

~~~

"So, how far away is Canada, anyway?"

Spike took a cigarette out from the pack he had just purchased. They were already on their way north. "What part of Canada, love?"

"Hmm... Niagara Falls," she decided, face alit. "I've always wanted to go there."

"I'd say about a day and a half's drive. Maybe more."

"And you have money and stuff?"

"Yeah."

"How much?" she wondered.

"Enough."

Buffy shrugged. "I have $1.22 in case we need it."

He glanced at her, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out through the open window. "I'll keep that in mind."

She sighed happily and leaned back in her seat. This is nice, she thought. A road trip to Canada with a man who made her heart sing. She didn't remember feeling this content in a long time.

Spike, on the other hand, wasn't exactly sharing in her enthusiasm. His mind was reeling with possibilities of what could go wrong and just how much time they had before something did. This was an incredibly risky adventure--and he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted it to continue. As much as he cared for Buffy, living a lie was not something he was prepared to deal with.

But before he could voice his concerns, her voice broke into his musings.

"So, what are you leaving behind?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know... family, friends."

"Oh." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No family. No friends."

"How is that possible?" she questioned, sadness in her tone.

"It just is. I mean, I guess there's Willy. He's really the only person I've ever considered a 'friend'. But other than him, there's no one."

"Did you guys grow up together or something?"

He nodded. "Yeah. We were mates back in the day. We sort of lost contact a few years ago when his girlfriend died, but we eventually started talking again."

"I get that," she replied. "After the accident, I lost touch with all of my friends, too. Unfortunately, it ended up staying that way."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She brushed her resentment aside. "It doesn't matter. It's not like we were close or anything. They were just people I discussed the latest fashions with. I never had any real friends."

"Why not?"

"I dunno. Most girls thought I was a brat, just because I came from a wealthy home. I wasn't though--all I wanted was someone I could relate to. Someone I could talk to."

Spike understood that feeling all too well. "Welcome to the club."

Buffy smiled, despite herself. "This is going to sound super lame and everything, but... do you think we met here on purpose? Like, fate or something?"

"It's a nice thought," he agreed. "Too bad I don't believe in all that rot."

"Why not?"

"It's just not somethin' worth believing in. But whatever helps you sleep at night, I s'pose."

She frowned, but didn't reply.

Spike sighed to himself, wondering for the hundredth time what he had gotten himself into. Tossing his cigarette butt out the window, he hesitantly reached out his hand and placed it atop of Buffy's. She responded by entwining her fingers with his.

A sense of security washed over him and he smiled. Because no matter how hopeless their situation seemed, Spike wanted nothing more than to believe that this would all be worth it.