Sitting on the top step of the back porch, Xander felt as though he’d been waiting for Buffy for hours. The massive adrenaline rush that had aided his final, almost fatal attack on Spike had completely diminished, and he’d only just managed to stop shaking. He knew he’d made a terrible mistake. At the time, he’d wanted nothing more than to watch Spike dissolve all around him… and he’d been so close, until Buffy arrived, bursting into the room and causing him to miss. Now, all of a sudden, he was partially glad of it.

Buffy was furious, and rightly so. The last time he’d seen her this angry had probably most likely been when Dawn was in danger, or, ironically enough, at Spike. If she ever forgave him, he couldn’t think how to make it up to her. He was unable to deny it any longer - if Buffy’s reaction had been anything to go by, Anya was right. Whether she realised it or not, she had strong feelings for Spike, and almost losing him had definitely made it hit closer to home.

He stared at his hands, turning them palm down and palm up. His knuckles were bruised, bloodied, and aching, unsurprisingly, and he had Spike’s blood on his palms. He couldn’t even remember who had started it, but had a horrible suspicion it was him. The intensity with which he’d determined to kill the vampire scared him; he’d never been so completely blinded by rage before. Was this how Willow had been? he wondered. It was no surprise she’d been so fragile after her ordeal.

He heard the kitchen door open, and Buffy emerged; she walked straight past him, taking up a position in front of him, standing with her arms folded in a calm, collected stance. Xander was glad she’d taken time to cool off, rather than attempting to talk to him in her previous state.

She didn’t have a clue where to begin. Everything hurt too much. Of the two, Xander appeared to be the worst off, sporting far more bruises to his face than Spike, a black eye, and probably a fair few cracked ribs if the way he was sitting was any indication. Spike did have superior strength, and, as she’d suspected, it had been more dumb luck than judgement that Xander had won.

The silence between them was penetrating in the garden. Xander forced himself to look up at Buffy, his neck and shoulders creaking in complaint; he winced at the contempt in her expression as she looked back at him. His voice raw from yelling at Spike, and from lack of energy, he very cautiously asked, “Is he okay?”

Buffy sensed he was going sincere, for her sake if not Spike’s, but it didn’t stop her answer from being decidedly snippy. “Yeah. No thanks to you.”

Xander lowered his head into his hands. “God, Buffy… I’m sorry…”

“You really think an apology is going to cut it this time?” Her voice was calm, but there was no denying the anger underneath.

“No. I know it won’t. But I don’t know how to… what to do…”

“You can start,” she suggested, beginning to pace irritably, “by telling me where you get off just attacking him like that!”

Xander sighed heavily, pain shooting through his chest as he did so. “I don’t think I can explain, Buffy. It was like… I was reliving that moment when I found you in the bathroom… and when I saw him with Anya.” He shuddered. “And all I could think about was… was destroying him.”

“That’s no excuse,” she said. “I know he hurt you. He’s hurt us all at some point. But that’s just Spike, Xander; it’s who he is.” She ceased her pacing. “I know you two have never exactly been on the best of terms, and believe me, I’m just as disappointed in him for fighting back… but killing him wouldn’t have solved anything. That Magic would still be loose out there, only we’d have less chance of stopping it without Spike; Will would still be fighting it out of her system; Tara would still be dead… you and Anya would still be separated…”

She’d demonstrated enough; Xander got the idea. “God, I’ve messed up… The last thing Anya wanted from me was to behave around Spike… I let her down… but I just couldn’t stop it, Buff.” He didn’t even try to stop the tears that suddenly coursed down his cheeks. “Everything’s been so damn hard - with Will, with Anya. I’m just not strong enough for this. And I don’t understand; I can’t. This whole thing with you and Spike, it’s-“

“That’s not it, Xander,” she interrupted. “It’s not that you can’t. You just won’t. You wouldn’t even try.”

He knew she was right. Buffy always seemed to be right. Lately, he always seemed to be wrong. “I guess I didn’t want to,” he admitted. “I wanted to protect you, that’s all.”

“I remember when it used to be the other way around.” She sighed. “I don’t need you to protect me, Xander. What I do need is for you to trust me, and support me, no matter what my decisions are. It’s not that much to ask from you.”

“I know,” he said. “I was an idiot.”

Buffy looked at him defiantly; she was clearly not finished with him yet. It was time for some home truths. Everything she’d been wanting to say came flooding out in an emotional tirade. “You know the reason I didn’t tell anyone about me and Spike? Because of you. Because I knew you wouldn’t be able to accept it. Willow, I wasn’t sure about, but I thought she’d be okay with it; I knew Dawn would probably be happy for me. I only told Tara out of desperation, because I was confused and scared… scared that Spike was right, that I had come back ‘wrong’. I mean, why else would I be sleeping with him? As you so eloquently put it that day I got turned invisible, ‘nobody in their right mind’ would sleep with Spike, not unless they were a ‘moron like Harmony, or a nutsack like Drusilla’...” Off his look, she clarified, “Yes, Xander. I was already sleeping with him back then…” She paused. “I thought I was going crazy… Hell, I was going crazy, and I couldn’t tell anyone but Spike. And maybe it was a stupid thing to do, to let him into my life like that, but it happened. It happened… and I’m glad it did… despite the decidedly sucky outcome.”

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” he asked, everything starting to click together. She didn’t answer straight away. “That’s what everyone seems to think.”

“Everyone’s thinking wrong, then. I’m not in love with Spike.” She didn’t sound very convincing, even to herself. However, she’d promised herself that this was going to be her truth session, if she was going to get through to Xander, so she continued. “I do have feelings for him; I’m not denying that. After everything, it’s impossible for me to keep telling myself that I don’t. Maybe I’d even go so far now as saying I care for him - and I guess on some insane level I have you to thank for that - but I don’t love him.”

Xander seemed to accept this, but even if he didn’t, he wasn’t about to question her on it. “I understand. I can’t believe how much of a jerk I was when I found out… if I’d just let you explain-“

“Then we wouldn’t be here right now, I know. It’s the past, Xander; what’s gone is gone. It’s just unfortunate it had to get this far.”

“It’s just… when I found out… apart from the fact that I’m hardly Spike’s biggest fan, I couldn’t help remembering what had happened the last time you fell for a vampire, Buffy. It ended badly. I didn’t want to see you get hurt again… or hurt more… after all, Spike didn’t have a soul then.”

“Angel was different,” she said, ignoring the soul comment - that was something she was still trying to deal with herself. “And don’t you think I’ve made all the comparisons myself before now, hundreds of times?” He nodded numbly. “All that mattered was that Spike loved me. Even when I didn’t believe him, it was all that mattered…”

His next question surprised her. “Do you believe him now? He got a soul for you, Buffy.” It seemed he’d finally accepted it himself; either that, or he was too exhausted to argue any more.

She thought about it. That same phrase kept ringing in her brain, the one that had caused her epiphany on the stairs before pouring everything out to Giles - ‘You only hurt the ones you love, pet…’ “I believed him before now… I believed him when he hurt me…” Seeing that Xander was confused, she changed the subject. “It’s not your concern. Which is what I more or less came out here to tell you. My business is just that - mine. Not yours. Not Spike’s. Not anybody’s Mine. Just like yours is yours, and your problems with Anya, too. I’m staying out of it. I only wish you could have granted me that same courtesy.”

Xander’s apology was evident in his eyes, but he couldn’t phrase it in the correct way for it to sound as sincere as he intended it. He could only hope she realised. They’d reached a stalemate. Buffy could think of nothing more to say to him, and didn’t have the energy to spend all night reprimanding his ears off about what he’d done; Xander didn’t have a clue what to do next.

“If there’s anything I can do, Buffy… seriously. Just tell me.”

She looked thoughtful. He was being honest. “Oh, yeah, there’s lots of things you can do. First of all, you can apologise to Spike, and you can mean it.”

“I guess I deserve that…”

She nodded. “Second of all, as soon as you’re able to, you can fix the damage you did to the house.” Xander nodded; that made sense. “And lastly, you can be there for Will when she purges that Magic. That was going to be part of the plan, if I’d gotten a damn chance to tell you all…”

“You can count on it,” he assured her. “But what must she think of me, though? I just went and acted on the same kind of crazy impulses that she’s recovering from… and Anya looked so disappointed. God only knows what Dawn thinks of me.”

“They’ll get over it. We can work through this like we do everything else. That’s what we do best.” She looked at him. If they were going to stop the Magic, he was currently in no fit state. “As for you, you need to get yourself to the hospital and get yourself checked out. I’ll go tell Giles what happened and get him to take you.”

Xander nodded. “I guess you’re right. I’ll tell them I got beaten up on the street, or something.”

“I’d say that’s a good idea.” She walked past him again, back towards the house. As an afterthought, she turned at the doorway and added, “On the plus side, I think Spike has a lot more respect for you.”

He smiled in spite of himself. That sounded like Spike, all right…

While Buffy talked to Xander in the back garden, Willow and Spike were having a conversation of their own…

“Hold still!” ordered Willow, preparing to remove the stake from Spike’s chest. It was proving difficult because he continued to twitch, probably involuntarily.

“Easy enough for you to say,” he said. “You’re not the one who just stared Death in the face.”

“I know, but if you keep wriggling like that, you’re gonna be staring at him again…”

Spike looked thoughtful. “I like you - you’re sensible.” Willow smiled, amused, wondering how he managed to make light of even the worst situation. It was even more impressive for the fact that he was obviously in a lot of pain.

“Glad you think so. Now, do you want this thing out, or not?” He gave her a ‘what do you think?’ look, then braced himself, his palms flat on the floor. Willow tightened her grip on the stake. “Ready?” Spike nodded and gritted his teeth. Willow pulled as hard as she could; Spike howled as it dislodged, finally pulling free as Willow tossed it aside. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “There…”

Spike winced as the air hit the wound, and he was pretty sure there were splinters in there, too. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to believe in doing no harm, you seem to be bloody good at it…”

“Sorry…” she said, sheepishly. “This looks pretty deep, Spike.” She fingered it cautiously, then, averting her gaze somewhat shyly, she added, “Could you, uh, take off your shirt?”

He obliged while she figured out what to use for the best. When she turned back, she started at the sight of the bandages wrapped around his upper body. Fresh blood was seeping through from Xander’s attack having aggravated the earlier wounds. Spike had done as Buffy had asked, however, and grudgingly gotten Clem to change the dressings. There was now a neat, round hole through them where the stake had pierced his chest.

Willow unwrapped him tentatively and resisted the urge to ask about what he’d gone through to get the scars and burns. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Giving him fair warning, and attempting to distract him while she did so, she set about cleaning him up. “Good thing about that vampy super-healing, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Spike, breathing sharply through his teeth. “Xander came bloody close to finishing me off, though.”

Willow padded the stake wound thoroughly and started re-wrapping the vampire in fresh bandages. She couldn’t quite believe what had happened before, that she was repairing what might have been fatal damage, caused by her best friend, someone she’d known for over fifteen years. She didn’t exactly consider Spike a friend, but she didn’t have any problems with him on a personal level, and she certainly didn’t want him dead. He made life more interesting for everyone… and she didn’t want to contemplate what effect it might have had on Buffy.

She finished up with the bandages and shook herself out of her reverie. “There,” she said. “All done and good as new… sorta.”

“Thanks, Red.” Spike got up painfully from his position on the floor, intending to leave. Then he realised he could hardly walk and got as far as the - by now slightly dented - couch before giving up, crashing down to sit on it. Willow put the remaining supplies back into the First Aid box and went to sit next to him, not really wanting to be alone and knowing Giles was still busy comforting Dawn. At the very least, she could talk to Spike about something.

“So,” she offered, grinning slightly, “didja see your life flash before your eyes? I always wondered if that was true or not.

Spike smiled back weakly. “Sorry to disappoint, but no.” The smile fell again. “But… I did see Buffy… When that stake hit, I… I pretended it was her doing the deed. Made it seem more worthwhile, y’know?” Willow nodded sympathetically. Spike examined his hands, hands he would willingly have used to beat Xander to a bloody pulp not ten minutes ago. “Then… while I was out of it… I saw her cryin’. Like she was sorry I’d gone.”

Willow said nothing. Spike, after all this time, still doubted where Buffy’s affections lay. If only he’d seen the panic in her eyes when she’d thought him dead, he probably wouldn’t. “You… you really do love her, don’t you?”

He looked at her curiously. It was an honest question that he suspected she already knew the answer to. “Yeah. More than I think she knows.”

“Have you told her?” He was about to give her a pedantic reply - she knew he’d told her - when she added, “I mean, I know you’ve told-told her, but have you actually let her know how much? With actual words?”

He scoffed. “Like she’d give me the chance!”

“She might,” countered Willow. “Now you’re back. I… I think she missed you…”

“No, she didn’t. All she missed was having her own personal punching bag.”

“Well… that’s a start, right?” She offered a weak smile. Spike didn’t return it. “Why don’t you try, Spike? When this is all over, just… just talk to Buffy.”

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, Red, but Buffy and I aren’t big on the whole talkin’ thing. And the last time I tried that, I ended up…” He fought down a shudder. “I ended up… making it worse.”

Willow thought about it for a while. If there was even the smallest chance that Buffy returned his feelings, then Spike needed to see that for himself. Either he was completely blind, or she’d beaten him down so much he simply refused to believe she could ever love him. The circumstances of his disappearing weren’t helping matters, either. She tried a different tactic, playing on Spike’s inherent ‘badness’. “I bet you’re just scared, aren’t you?”

“What?” he asked, indignant. “No.” He said this with just enough lack of conviction for Willow to push with her reasoning.

“You are!” Spike shook his head exasperatedly, but she carried on. “You’re scared that she’ll laugh at you, or that it won’t make any difference.”

He was about to deny it, but then conceded that she was partially right. He sighed. “All right, I am… Well, something like that.” He explained, “Imagine it, Willow - I talk to Buffy and it makes absolutely no difference whatsoever. She won’t believe me; she hasn’t so far. She’s not going to just… fall into my waitin’ arms, is she?”

“I’m not suggesting she will, Spike. But… but if she realises how you feel, it might bring her around, and then… who knows? It’s worth a try.” Spike didn’t say anything, but it looked like he was thinking about it. “Hey, I got an idea!” she said, suddenly enthusiastic. “Why don’t you tell me, first?”

He looked incredulous. “Yeah, because that won’t be weird at all…” He obviously hadn’t lost his touch for sarcasm.

“No, I mean it,” she said, sitting cross-legged on the couch and getting more comfortable. “Come on. Tell me how you feel about Buffy. Then, when you tell her, it’ll be easier.”

He ignored the fact that she’d very subtly said “when” and not “if”. He conceded defeat. “Fine…” He didn’t meet Willow’s eyes, merely stared at the floor, or his fingernails, fidgeting. After a few seconds of thought, he started. “I love Buffy. I know that, you know that, she knows that. It’s wrong - I know it’s wrong - but I do. No matter what she does, I can’t stop… and I still keep hopin’ she’ll realise she loves me, too. She says she doesn’t, but… I’ve seen it in her eyes. I thought maybe the soul might change things, and all it did was make me needier, and Buffy hurt more than before.” Suddenly, he looked up again, staring at Willow. “She’s my whole life, Red. I’d let her be my death, if I had to.”

Willow could think of nothing to say except, “Wow…” Spike wasn’t finished, though; he was on a roll.

“Here’s something ironic for you. Dru turned me; I loved her, too. Buffy thinks I can’t love, but she seems to forget - I was with Dru over a century. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is. But the ironic thing is, in simple terms, I loved Dru because she made me what I am - and I love Buffy because she makes me feel like what I was.”

The ex-Wiccan stared at him. “Whoa… Spike, that’s it. That’s exactly what you should say to her.”

“You think so?” Willow nodded. “Well… all right. If I get a chance, I’ll… I’ll try and talk to her.” Then, a curious silence descended around them, as they both ran out of things to say.

On the stairs, Buffy had been witness to the end of their conversation. She’d entered the house through the dining room and was going to make her presence known, when she’d heard her name mentioned. Silently, she’d set up a vigil on the other side of the wall, where they couldn’t see her, and listened to Spike’s heartfelt commentary. Again with the making-everything-sound-like-poetry, she thought, as a tear rolled down her cheek. Damn vampire. Cursing him didn’t seem right, though, not now. She felt like she ought to say ‘thank you’. Just as she was about to make her presence known, the two started talking again.

Spike suddenly noticed that Willow appeared to be crying, and was making a bad job of trying to hide it when she saw him watching her. “What’s’matter, Red? I never thought you were the sentimental type.”

“S-sorry… it’s not that…” She sniffed. “I was just thinking about Tara.”

Spike had almost forgotten about that. “Oh. Yeah, I… I heard about what happened.” He’d done his fair share of listening over the past year, so he figured one more time wouldn’t hurt. “You want to, um, talk about it?”

She nodded meekly. “It’s just… you seem to… to love Buffy, so much, and it feels like… like I couldn’t even love Tara enough to stop using magic when she asked. And maybe if I had, she’d still be here.”

“Hey… that wasn’t your fault she died, and you know it.”

“It was, though… We’d just made up, and… and that’s why we were getting up late… if I’d just stopped the magic, then she wouldn’t have left and we wouldn’t have had to make up…” The sentence trailed off into tears.

“Willow,” he said, pointedly. “It was not your fault. Tara knew how you felt, didn’t she?” Willow nodded, biting back her sobs. “Well, then, she died happy.” His explanation wasn’t having the desired effect; all of a sudden, Willow pitched herself into his arms and gave him very little choice but to try and comfort her. At a loss, Spike conceded to mutter incoherently until she calmed down.

At which point, Buffy decided to emerge from the dining room. She was momentarily surprised by the image of Willow crying on Spike, but seeing his decided awkwardness at the situation, her surprise turned to amusement. She cleared her throat and folded her arms in assumed condescension.

Spike looked over as she said, “I don’t know, I leave you with my best friend for one minute…”

He let go of Willow, who stood up and wiped her eyes. “Oh, Buffy, it’s not… it’s… Spike was just-“

“Calm down, Will. I’m kidding.”

They both visibly relaxed. “Did you talk to Xander?” she asked.

“Yeah. He seems pretty shaken up by it, actually. I don’t think he knew what he was doing.”

“Try tellin’ that to the hole in my chest,” said Spike.

Buffy smiled. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Willow patched me up just fine. Should heal in no time.”

“Good.” She cast her eyes to the stairs. “I guess I’d better go tell Dawn everything’s fine, and get Giles to take Xander to the hospital. Talking of which, I’ve told him to apologise to you. Please don’t make it any harder.”

Spike had seen the effects of not provoking Xander. He didn’t want to find out what happened if he did. “You’ve got my word, pet.”

Buffy nodded gratefully. “Will, has Anya reappeared yet?”

She shook her head. “No, but I doubt she’s gone far. I think she was pretty close to a solution before, so I’m sure she’ll come back.”

“Well, when she does, tell her that I’ve spoken to Xander, and to save anything she needs to say to him until after we beat this thing, okay?”

“I will.”

With that, Buffy took a deep breath and headed upstairs. She knocked on Dawn’s door, and vanished inside. Willow and Spike waited, with some curiosity. Then, the door was flung open and the teenager emerged in a flurry of arms and brunette hair as she bounded down the stairs with Buffy in hot pursuit telling her to calm down. Before Spike knew what was happening, Dawn had attached herself to him.

“You’re okay!” she squealed. “You’re not dust, you’re okay…”

“Takes more than a little staking to keep me down, Bit.”

Dawn squealed again and squeezed him tighter. Spike shrugged and hugged her back, while Buffy and Giles watched from the bottom of the stairs. Giles never ceased to be amazed by the way Dawn could switch from crying hysterically to giggling without so much as batting an eyelid. It hadn’t quite registered what had happened until this particular moment, seeing Spike standing and obviously not dust. He was shocked by Xander’s actions; even though he’d been considering the same thing himself, he doubted, if the opportunity arose, that he’d go through with it. And now, seeing Dawn so happy to have him alive - and Buffy, to some degree - he realised he could never stick to his oath. In the back of his mind, it registered that their pizzas had probably gone cold.

Buffy smiled at her sister and Spike, slightly jealous at the ease with which Dawn hugged him, unquestioningly. They’d always had a special bond, one she never quite understood. She tore her gaze from them and looked to her Watcher.

“Giles, could you take Xander to the hospital?”

He nodded. “Yes. Of course.” He paused to watch Dawn as she finally released Spike. “I can’t believe he was even capable of this.”

“I know…”

As if on cue, Xander hobbled through to the lounge. He surveyed the various expressions in the room as he entered - Buffy’s was considerably less angry than before, now that she’d let off steam, Willow had come to terms with it after her initial shock (and he could tell she’d been crying, but that was too much to deal with right now), Giles looked disappointed in him, and Dawn held him in a contemptuous gaze. Spike was the only one, however, who would meet his eyes. The vampire nodded at him as he walked past, settling some kind of silent truce.

Xander stopped in the middle of the room, in full view of everyone, and looked at his adversary. “Spike.”

“Harris.”

“I just wanted to say that… I’m sorry it got this far… and… for starting the fight.” He meant it, and Spike could tell.

“Thanks.” He wanted to tell him that he was just as sorry for the Anya situation, but he wasn’t ready just yet. The boy had nearly dusted him and he deserved to make him squirm just a little longer. “You fight pretty damn well, for a human.”

Xander smiled very weakly to show he appreciated the strange compliment, then turned to Buffy. She seemed satisfied. “Okay, Giles. Let’s go.”

The older man nodded silently, not entirely sure what he should say to him, and led him out to the car. There was complete silence as they drove away, and then, suddenly, Anya reappeared, startling everyone. Dawn was the first to recover.

“Uh… hey, Anya…”

She looked around the assembled Scoobies. “Where’s Xander?” Casting a suspicious glance at Buffy, she asked, “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

Buffy laughed lightly. “No, Anya… Giles has taken him to hospital to get checked over.”

She visibly relaxed. “Oh, good… I… I wanted to tell him I’d overreacted earlier. I was still in shock from seeing him stake Spike.” Turning to face the accused, she added, “And since Spike is clearly not dead, I’ll assume I was wrong to not give him a chance to explain.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand, Anya,” said Willow. “Xander’s been through a lot this past month, what with me being all dependent and needy. And he didn’t know what he was doing, really…”

Anya nodded. “Well, at least both he and Spike are fine.”

Another silence filled the room. Then, seemingly randomly, Spike remembered why he was even there in the first place. “Buffy, didn’t you have a plan you were going to tell us?”

“Oh, yeah!” she said, also remembering. “But I think right now we all need rest, don’t you? I’ll tell you all tomorrow when we have Xander and Giles back here.”

Everyone agreed. Dawn, ever the voice of logic, said: “Where’s Spike gonna sleep?”

He and Buffy exchanged a glance; before she could dig herself into a hole, as he knew she’d end up doing, he rescued her. “My crypt, Bit.” He started to head towards the front door. “Sure I can manage to-“

“Spike,” interrupted Buffy. “You can barely stand. By the time you get to the cemetery it’ll be sunrise at this rate.” He knew she was right. Buffy thought things through. “Okay…Anya, can you stay with Will?” Anya nodded. Just in case Willow took it the wrong way, Buffy explained, “I know you’re doing better, Willow; you’re doing great… but I’m only thinking of you. Anya knows about magic; she’ll be able to help if you have… problems.”

Willow nodded. “I guess so…”

“The living room, I feel, is a write-off for now.” Everyone agreed on that. “Which leaves-“

“He can sleep on my floor!” interrupted Dawn, enthusiastically.

“No, Dawn. You are not having a sleepover with Spike…”

“But-“

“Big Sis is right, Nibblet… I don’t want Giles trying to stake me an’ all…”

Dawn conceded defeat, somewhat thwarted. “Well, where then? Your room?”

Buffy deliberately avoided Spike’s gaze - thus missing the fact that he did exactly the same - and said, “Again, no. Same reason.” There was only one other place he could go. “It’ll have to be the basement, Spike… sorry.”

He shrugged. “S’warmer than the crypt.”

Dawn was going to protest, but then realised it was futile. “I’ll go set up a cot and some blankets,” she said, heading off to find them. The conversation dissipated into general banter on what time to wake up, when Xander might be back, and where Buffy had been all day - she was remarkably unforthcoming as to her location, but they let it drop.

Dawn made the basement as comfortable as possible for Spike, and kissed him on the cheek before heading upstairs. Willow thanked him for being supportive earlier, and Anya merely smiled sympathetically, not knowing what to say. Eventually, Buffy and Spike stood alone in the remains of the living room. Together, they wandered through to the kitchen. Buffy opened the fridge and helped herself to a large spoonful of mayonnaise; Spike grimaced.

“What?” she asked. “Long and difficult conversations with people give me the munchies…” She put the mayo back in the fridge and turned to him. Spike stood with his back to the open door of the basement while Buffy stood opposite him on the other side of the room. They didn’t say anything. Buffy recalled the ease with which Dawn had hugged him when she knew he was okay. Why did she find it so difficult to do that herself? She was constantly thinking of possible repercussions, or whether or not it would be misconstrued. Staring at him from across the kitchen, she wanted nothing more than to pluck up the courage to go over and hurl her arms around him, just to let him know she was glad he was alive, too.

After a very long while, Spike finally cut through the silence. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Huh?”

“Before you went out to talk to Xander. You kissed me. Why?”

“Oh…” Trust him to bring that up. She was ever more certain he could read her mind. “Because… I was relieved he hadn’t dusted you.” Spike hadn’t really thought of what she might say; it had just seemed like an apt question at the time. As such, he hadn’t got a reply to her comment. “Very relieved, actually…”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Well… I’ve only just got you back from Africa, and-“

“Yes?” The glimmer of hope in his eyes was Buffy’s undoing. She couldn’t carry on that train of thought. She’d been about to admit that she’d missed him, that she couldn’t stand the idea of losing him again… but now, she couldn’t.

“And… I need your help. With getting the Magic back in the books.”

“I see…” he said, deflated. “Right. Well. Best get some kip.” When there was no reply from Buffy, he turned, hesitating at the top of the stairs. The conversation he’d had with Willow kept coming back to him - her advice to talk to Buffy, if she gave him the chance. It would be so easy to try now; all he needed to do was ask if she’d listen to him. But then, he figured, now really wasn’t the best time to pour his heart out.

He started when her voice emanated from directly behind him. “Goodnight, Spike.”

He turned back again to find her directly in front of him. She looked nervous. Just as he was about to say something, she surprised him a second time by moving forward and wrapping her arms around him. He responded immediately, returning the gesture and pulling her close to him with a relief that mirrored her own. He didn’t know what had caused this sudden show of affection (or weakness, perhaps,) but he wasn’t going to question it. Right now, it felt wonderful to have Buffy in his arms.

Buffy was beginning to see why Dawn did this so often. Heartbeat or no heartbeat, the man could hug. She almost didn’t want to pull away, but sleep was threatening to overtake and that would cause all sorts of embarrassment later. Regretfully, she extricated herself from the embrace and left the kitchen without a word, and without looking back.

Spike watched her leave, curiously. Then, to the empty doorway, he said, “Goodnight, Buffy.”

Due to the harrowing experience of the night before, everyone slept in late the next morning; Willow and Dawn, especially, had slept into the early afternoon. Giles had stayed with Xander at the hospital, and called that morning (to Dawn’s irritation as he’d woken her up) to say that Xander had been checked over and would be allowed out later that afternoon. Knowing how slow hospital discharge tended to be, Buffy gave them until the evening. After Giles’ call, she’d found it impossible to go back to sleep and had busied herself with attempting to clear up the debris of the lounge and surrounding rooms.

Most of it was a write-off, especially the stair-rail, which would probably need to be professionally mended. She figured Xander could probably fix the sofa and the broken coffee table. One of the chairs in the dining room had gotten overturned, but was still intact. The same was more or less true of the kitchen, although the varnish on the door had seen better days. Most of the carnage was, in fact, broken ornaments on the floor. Some of them, she noted, had been her mother’s favourites; she managed to retrieve most of the larger pieces of the majority of them, but some were definitely beyond redemption. Somewhat sadly, she’d had to throw them away.

The photograph that Spike had so lovingly admired - but Buffy didn’t know this - was about the only thing that was still intact, having managed to escape the battle by some miracle. Most of the other photos had ended up with their frames cracked or smashed, but at least they were easily replaceable.

Buffy finished sweeping up the smaller debris. She fought down a shudder at the memory of finding her best friend and her… whatever Spike was, seemingly frozen in time on the floor. She’d woken up hoping it was a dream, but the state of the living room proved horribly otherwise. With a sigh, she placed the salvaged ornaments on the mantelpiece with the photographs, and went to put the broom away. Dawn, typically, had left it out; it belonged in the basement.

Without thinking, she opened the door and headed down to put the broom away in its corner. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs when she remembered that Spike was still asleep down there, and tiptoed quietly past him as she put it away. Just as she was about to head back up to the kitchen, there was a soft, practically inaudible moan from the direction of the cot. Against her better judgement, and damning herself all the while, she walked over to see if Spike was all right.

For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be fine, and deeply asleep - although, with vampires, one could never tell. Buffy stood over him for a few seconds. He was silent. She was just beginning to think that perhaps she’d imagined it, when there was another moan, this time slightly louder. Sighing, Buffy pulled up a box of old school junk and sat down on it to watch over him, only for a while.

Spike had perfected a way of not letting the soul and his new conscience bother him during the day, by distracting himself. At night, however, the memories came as strongly as they had when he’d been granted the soul, and they manifested themselves as nightmares. By the somewhat anguished look on his face, they were obviously horrific - considering that they were hellishly recreated images of Spike’s own previous deeds, however, this was no surprise - and he began to roll around on the cot. Several times he almost fell off.

Buffy didn’t know what to do for the best. If she woke him, he’d probably be embarrassed that she’d seen him like it. If she didn’t wake him up, then she’d have no choice but to sit there and make sure he didn’t damage himself. Noticing that the blanket Dawn had procured for him had escaped to the floor, she conceded that ‘tucking him in’ was the best she could manage at this particular moment.

She covered him carefully so as not to accidentally aggravate his stab wound - she refused to refer to it as a stake wound - and then sat back again. He seemed to calm for a moment, sensing her presence while he dreamt. Then, the nightmare took hold again and his expression reflected it. The hollow, remorseful look on his face, the one she’d seen only briefly on his return, was mirrored even in sleep. It pained her to see him so helpless. Dreams were the one thing Buffy couldn’t fight.

Lately, Spike was making her feel things, things that she’d managed to ignore before he came back. Right now, she had more important things to deal with - such as what could be another impending apocalypse situation - than how she felt about Spike. That could wait until after they’d stopped the Magic.

Absently, not completely aware of what she was doing, Buffy brushed a stray and slightly blood-stained strand of hair away from his forehead; in the back of her mind, she realised she probably should have offered him the use of the shower, even if he’d refused. She doubted he’d want to go anywhere near her bathroom for a while, but at least the offer would have been there. She continued to absently run a hand through his hair while she thought. Remembering, against her better judgement, what had happened, it barely seemed like the same Spike. His ordeal in Africa had changed him far beyond the gaining of a soul.

She came back to reality with a mental bang and pulled herself out of her thoughts, looking down to find him sleeping peacefully again. ‘Let me rest in peace…’ she thought, with a smile. Their all-singing, all-dancing escapade had proven more than they’d realised. And maybe Spike had been right when he’d told her he needed her. Even when he didn’t know she was there, she’d calmed him. Buffy couldn’t help feeling slightly proud of that.

He opened his eyes, and she stopped her hand to save herself embarrassment, even though she got the distinct impression he’d been awake for a while. He looked up at her briefly, then closed his eyes again, and muttered, “Don’t stop. ‘Snice.”

“No need,” she said, removing the hand completely and returning it to her lap, “now the dreams have stopped.”

Spike opened his eyes again and sat up, looking confused. “Dreams? What dreams?”

“You don’t remember?” He shook his head. “Oh. Well, that’s probably for the best…”

There was an empty pause. “Xander back yet?”

“No. Not ‘til later, I think.”

“How’d the talk go with him?”

“I don’t know. He’s genuinely sorry, though. Actually, I think he’s shaken that he managed to… uh…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Stake me?” supplied Spike.

Buffy nodded. At least he was more comfortable with his near-death experience than she was. “How are you feeling?”

When Spike recovered from the fact that she still seemed to be concerned for his well-being (having put the first time down to the sheer shock of finding him like she did), he said, “Um… still smarts a bit. It’ll heal.”

“Oh, that’s it,” she said, remembering something that had been bugging her. “I meant to ask - why didn’t the chip kick in? And no cracks about Xander not being human…”

“I think…” pondered Spike, “it was because Xander wanted me to fight him. He just stood there and asked me to fight back, willingly, and it was enough to confuse the chip. The only other thing I can figure is that the technology’s gettin’ glitches after all this time.”

That made sense to Buffy. After a while, all technology, no matter how advanced it was, ended up with problems. Either that or the chip had always had that particular design fault and nobody had thought to find out. Of course, there was always the possibility that one day the chip would merely fail to work, having served its time - presumably, the Initiative were intending to starve to death any vampire they installed it in, and it had been an accident that Spike had discovered he could harm anything non-human. Buffy wondered briefly what might happen if Spike could kill again.

Spike broke through the silence. “How’s Red?”

“What?” asked Buffy, starting.

“I said, how’s Willow?”

“Oh… I don’t know, she’s not up yet. But I’m sure she’s fine. Thanks for… you know… being there for her. Last night.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said. “After she patched me up.”

“Yeah…” The air between them was getting decidedly awkward, and Buffy knew why. It was her fault. She’d hugged him last night, which, in Spike’s current emotional state, hadn’t been a good idea. She’d also kissed him. That definitely hadn’t been a good idea. She’d done what she promised herself she wouldn’t do when he came back - given him hope. Even though they’d more or less reconciled, and she was more than willing to offer her friendship - especially right now, when they all needed him - she got the distinct impression that Spike wanted more. He still wanted the love she couldn’t bring herself to give.

They’d both been staring at anything but each other for some time. The words Buffy had overheard the night before - Spike’s heartfelt confession to Willow about how he felt - were ringing through her ears. ‘She’s my whole life… I’d let her be my death… she makes me feel like what I was…’ Suddenly, it all made sense.

The entire time she’d been with Spike, it had all felt horribly familiar, for a reason she couldn’t figure out. But, sitting as she was with him in front of her, a memory struck from two years ago. When Willow’s ill-cast ‘I-will-it-so’ spell had gone awry, she’d loved him. She’d even agreed to spend the rest of her life with him, and it had seemed right… better than right, in fact.

She was constantly telling herself and her friends - and Spike - that she didn’t love him. What scared her was that she remembered what it felt like to love him, and she could sense that same feeling sweeping over her the longer he was around. Moreover, she remembered what it was like to have Spike love her, and, even under the influence of the spell, it was exactly the same. Everything was the same - they argued over pathetic, petty things, Buffy’s friends didn’t approve, and with a single kiss, she could forget why she was supposed to hate him.

Buffy was, essentially, scared. The part of her brain that kept telling her being with Spike was wrong no longer functioned. Being with Angel had overridden it because he’d had a soul. Now, Spike had a soul. He was ‘good’, too. For all intents and purposes, she had no reason to hate him any more, and that terrified her. She also knew that anyone who ever loved her - and anyone she’d ever loved back - had a tendency to leave. Her father. Her mom. Angel. Giles; admittedly, he’d come back, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he left again. Spike, so far, had been the only one who, despite leaving, had come back… but that didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t leave again. She had no way of knowing for sure if, by giving Spike her heart, he would mangle it like everyone else did.

What she’d told Giles was true - she wanted to love Spike. It was no longer a matter of not being able to; she was too scared to allow herself the luxury. Those ‘three little words’ were all he needed to hear… but to Buffy, they were like an automatic cue for him to walk away from her.

Her thoughts turned to the situation in hand. They all needed his help (and, more to the point, his deSoto to use in order to get everyone across town) in Buffy’s upcoming plan. She needed him to protect Dawn, as always. And Spike would agree, unquestioningly. And, being Spike, he’d inevitably end up getting himself hurt; in his currently weakened state, he could even get himself killed if he wasn’t careful.

They’d both been staring at the floor for some time, so they wouldn’t have to look at each other. Buffy suddenly got the urge to look up, hoping to examine his eyes. Undoubtedly, she could always see the love there (and dreaded it, more often than not), but she was searching for some flicker of doubt, anything that might indicate it was at all possible he could stop loving her. If she found that, if there was hope of him losing interest, then she wouldn’t have to worry about the fact that, despite all of her better judgement, she was starting to fall in love with him…

Just as she thought this, she tried to divert her attention elsewhere. Unfortunately, the only thing in her direct line of vision was Spike, who was still staring at the ground. Absently, she noticed the cut on his forehead, already healing, and it set off a chain reaction of thoughts. He’d got the cut in the fight with Xander. The fight with Xander had resulted in him being staked. It had started because Xander was still mad at Spike. It wouldn’t have started at all, had Buffy not told Spike to meet her at the house… and, if he did get himself hurt or killed when they fought the Magic, that would be Buffy’s fault, too.

Unconsciously, she began to reach out to the cut, not entirely certain why. Her fingers grazed it only slightly, causing Spike to jerk his head up in surprise at the brief contact. She recoiled immediately. Completely by accident, their gazes met, and she searched for that elusive flicker of doubt she was counting on to be her saviour. All she saw was her own reflection, the pain neither of them could fight, and love so deep she was drowning in it.

Buffy dropped her head, and suddenly, tears were trailing down her cheeks against her will. Spike, surprised by the sob she failed to conceal, looked briefly confused.

“Buffy?” he asked, softly, trying to get her attention. She didn’t answer, only shook her head as if to block him out. He tried again. “Buffy? Look at me…” When he still couldn’t illicit a response, he physically lifted her chin with one hand to force her look in his direction. “What is it, pet? What’s wrong?”

She blinked at him, then averted her gaze to her hands. “Don’t wanna lose you again…” she mumbled.

“You’re not going to,” he reassured her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His words apparently didn’t register. “They all leave.”

“Who all leave?”

“Everyone,” she said. “Everyone… they say they love me, then they’re gone.”

He understood, realising with some sadness that she was right. “Well… I’m not everyone…” Releasing her chin, he grasped both of her hands in his. Her flow of tears seemed to have subsided, at least for the moment, but her thoughts were still tumultuous as she looked at him again.

“God,” she said, looking him over with some curiosity, “I’m going to get you killed…”

“What?”

She scoffed at his stupidity. “You nearly died last night, Spike… because of me. And you could get hurt - badly - because I’ve asked you to help.” She wrenched free of his grasp. “Get out of here. For your own good…”

He almost laughed, had he not realised how serious she was. “Buffy-“

“I’m serious. I know, I said I needed your help, but… forget I mentioned it. I don’t need you for this.”

“But-“

“You said to me yourself, that thing skinned a vamp, for no apparent reason. I don’t want to risk it. Just… go to your crypt and stay there.”

“No. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m going to help. Whatever it takes.”

Buffy sighed; she knew she was never going to convince him to leave. “I can’t keep doing this - putting everyone at risk. That’s why a Slayer is meant to work alone. I’m going to get you all killed…”

Spike placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you will, one day. But it’s either us or you. Buffy, if you hadn’t had your friends around, you might not even be sittin’ here today.”

“Oh, yeah, and they all do it because they love me so much, right?” she asked, somewhat mockingly.

“No,” he said, smiling, “they do it because they’re bloody idiots with death wishes.” That raised a small smile. “I do it because I love you.” He cautiously moved the hand from her shoulder to her cheek. “Enough to risk everything…”

Tears stung her eyes again, as more memories of Willow’s spell came unbidden to her brain, with the familiar feeling of Spike being the be-all and end-all of her universe. Quietly, staring at him the whole time, still searching for even the smallest amount of doubt in his eyes, she said, “Say you love me again…”

Failing completely to conceal the hope in his expression, he wiped the single tear from her cheek with a thumb. “I love you…”

She stared at him numbly for several seconds. Then, before she knew what was happening, or what she was doing, she found herself leaning closer. Her lips brushed against his and she tasted her own tears (or were they Spike’s, too?) and blood from his split lip. The brief contact was all it took. He knew it was a bad idea, but he instantly responded in kind, pulling her closer, off the box she was sitting on, and practically into his lap. The kiss was of relief, from too long apart, and Buffy continued to silently cry, tears coursing down her cheeks as it deepened.

“Buffy? Are you up? Anyone?”

They broke apart at the sound of Giles’ voice calling from the front door, and Buffy leapt to her feet, looking at the door to the kitchen in a state of panic. She wiped her eyes hastily and scrabbled away from Spike, staring at him in brief horror before fleeing to the relative safety of the main part of the house.

Spike watched the open door, and listened to the distant voices in the lounge, in mild shock. Then, after a pause, he let out a quiet curse, punched the cot in frustration, and violently kicked the box into a corner.

Buffy straightened her clothes self-consciously as she entered the living room to greet Giles. Xander was with him, his left arm in a sling, but otherwise unscathed except for the bruises she’d seen the previous night.

“Ah, there you are,” said Giles. “Where is everyone?”

“Still in bed, I should think. It was a pretty rough night.” She headed to the bottom of the stairs and called up. “Dawn! Will! Anya! Scooby meeting in the dining room in ten minutes!” Neither Giles nor Xander questioned why she didn’t call for Spike, too, but they figured he could probably hear from the basement.

The three of them moved to the dining room to wait for the others. Buffy hovered by the door while the other two sat down. Eventually, the other three occupants of the house meandered downstairs to join them. Dawn, momentarily disappointed that Spike hadn’t appeared yet, cast a disdainful glance at Xander and sat as far away from him as possible. Willow smiled supportively, understanding that he hadn’t been entirely aware of his actions at the time, and looked sympathetic when she saw the sling. She sat next to him. Anya gave a nervous smile and sat opposite Giles.

Spike, as yet, still hadn’t emerged from the basement, and Buffy was starting to worry about him. She didn’t know what had possessed her to kiss him, but whatever level their friendship was at, she’d probably just ruined it. She decided it would be best to go and check on him.

“I’ll be right with you, guys. Let me just go get Spike.” There was a murmur of acknowledgement as she left the room, heading back towards the basement. She didn’t go down there, just stood at the top of the steps and called down. “Spike?” He didn’t reply, but she heard shuffling in the semi-dark. She sighed impatiently. “Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.” There was a crash, one that sounded distinctly annoyed, and then he emerged. He pushed past her without a word and headed towards the dining room.

She caught up with him at the threshold to the kitchen and grabbed his arm to stop him. He whirled around to face her, his expression hurt and angry. “Unless it’s a matter of life or death, Slayer, I don’t want to hear it.” With that, he wrenched his arm free of her grasp.

“I’m sorry…” she managed to say as he walked off, stopping him in his tracks momentarily.

Without turning, he said, “I know. But you’re only sorry for your own weakness. Next time you want some cold comfort, try somewhere else.” He turned slightly, adding, “I’m done. I’ll help you, but that’s it. You can either admit that you love me, or leave me alone.”

He walked off without another word, leaving a shocked Buffy in his wake…

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