Voices Inside My Head, Part 2 (Chapter 9 of Don't Stop the Dance)

Spike feels...remarkably calm as he sits on Buffy’s bed in the dark, anticipating the continuation of their earlier conversation.

She’s inside of me. He thinks. My heart. My soul. And now my bloody mind. He laughs and shakes his head. Buffy always amazes him. Without thinking, he searches his duster pocket for cigarettes.

“Right, mate,” he corrects himself. “Smoke in her room...that’ll win ‘er back.”

He feels something else in his pockets and pulls out the contents. It’s a CD, a soundtrack from a movie that he loves: Brimstone and Treacle. “Cor, I wondered where you’d gotten off too, luv.” He caresses the disk, and opens it.

Standing up, he crosses the room to the portable stereo and flips open the player’s lid. “Ugh...Limp Bizkit?” he whispers in disgust, eyeing the disk already inside. “Slayer, please.” He grabs the CD as if it was made of something loathsome and tosses the offensive object onto the floor, popping in his disk. He fumbles with the buttons and pushes play.

He’d been in this room countless times, but rarely alone. He looks at the photos of Buffy as a little girl. He smiles. I would’ve loved to watch her grow. The music starts and memories suddenly flood the vampire’s mind.

Children’s voices. Spike uncomfortably remembers his “Parish” phase, as Angelus had called it. William the bloody at his very bloody best. He is overwhelmed as the faces come back, one by one. Then dozens of impassioned Spanish Catholics he’d terrorized one fateful night so long ago. He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists against the black cloud that is descending upon his mind. Oh God, I can’t. I can’t, not now. Please.

He thinks of Buffy smiling up at him. The images recede. He gasps for a breath that he doesn’t need to take. He thinks to turn the CD off, but the music has changed. He doesn’t want to be defeated or weak, so he locks his jaw and listens. Nothing but music, no images come. All he needs is Buffy.

He begins to silently weep.
He wipes angrily at his tears and forces them to cease.
He walks over to the window, idly singing along with the man on the CD.
He stands and he waits.

Burn For You (Chapter 10 of Don't Stop the Dance)

There are strains of music coming from her door as she approaches. Not something she recognizes. “Make yourself at home , Spike.” Buffy smiles to herself as she tentatively puts her hand on the doorknob. She hears the music playing but there’s another sound that makes her pause...Spike’s voice. Buffy takes a deep breath and opens the door. It’s dark. She steps inside and closes it behind her. She locks and then leans against it, facing him.

Spike’s back is to her. The song fades out and he turns around. He can see her plainly in the light filtering in from outside. She sees him in shadow catching glimpses of his porcelain profile, his perfect mouth, as he turns to her. She almost thinks she sees blue fire in his eyes. A low moaning and rhythmic bass is coming from the speakers. Buffy doesn’t recognize the song. She starts to make a sarcastic comment about his antiquated taste in music, when he begins to sing again. Spike’s voice is low and smoky, matching the singer’s almost perfectly, but with his own flavor.

Now that I have found you
In the cool of your evening smile He smiles. She smiles coyly, eyes blushing.
The shade of your parasol
And your love flows through me She listens intently, her smile fading.
Though I drink at your pool He cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowing.
I burn for you, I burn for

You and I are lovers Buffy feels her entire body blush.
When night time folds around our bed
In peace we sleep entwined He slowly crosses the room towards her.
And your love flows through me
Though an ocean soothes my head She closes her eyes, her breath uneven.
I burn for you, I burn for

Stars will fall from dark skies She hears him in her head.
As ancient rocks are turning
Quiet fills the room He stops a few inches from her, his lips parted.
And your love flows through me He runs his hand lightly across her collarbone.
Though I lie here so still Her eyes pop open and she shivers.
I burn for you,
I burn for you
I burn...

The heat between them is molten. Not Dru nor Angel, Cecily nor Riley: no one from before exists to them now as anything other than figures from the past.

They’re so close now that Spike momentarily mistakes her heartbeat for his own, as if she had the power to restore him to life. His hands hang at his side, as he counts the variations of green and gold in her eyes. He is afraid to touch her again for fear that he may drop to his knees and beg her to take him back. Promise anything to hold her, to kiss her, just once more.

He stands still before her. Even with the admission outside, he’s not certain that she wants more than what they have: a friendship. He doesn’t want to risk this newfound closeness. He tries to convince himself that he can live with being just her friend.

Buffy is adrift in the sea of blue staring into her and genuinely fears that she may drown. The emotions emanating from Spike are palpable. She can feel the love he has for her penetrating every fiber of her being. She can also sense his confusion at her words earlier. It breaks her heart a little, for as drawn as she is to him, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to feel that deeply for him...or for anyone...ever again.

But here he is, as ever, following her lead. Why does she hesitate? She knows she loves him. She’s told her closest friends as much, and yet even they were left scratching their heads when she couldn’t say to what extent. The fact is that no one, not even Angel, has ever loved her as much as Spike. He loved her before he even realized it. She’d known it long before she’d ever admitted the possibility. No soul, no love? Bull. Buffy had known plenty of soul-having humans that were completely incapable of love.

Spike realizes with a shock that he is no longer locked into the slayer’s thoughts. She’s blocking me out ...retreating. So soon. S’ too soon. He lets out an audible sigh and it stirs Buffy out of her trance.

She becomes aware of him, presently, and notes the sadness creeping into him, replacing the rapture. She’s not ready to let go so she gently presses her lips to his and withdraws when he barely responds. He gives her a small smile, expecting her to say that she is tired and wants to turn in.

“You’d think we’d be able to talk by now,” she says, quietly smiling. “It’s always been hard for me...being alone with you.” She searches his face for indications of his mood. He gives none. She’s afraid, like before in the bathroom.

“Oh yeah?” he replies, his heart sinking. He tries to prepare for the pain he knows is coming.

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that, pet?” Please don’t say it, not yet.

“Because I’ve never known whether to kiss you or to kill you.”

“You could do both at once.” He inadvertently admits.

Buffy winces at the implication, but recovers quickly. “I could never kill you, not now.”

“What if you had to?” He backs up a bit to study her physical response to his question, a glimmer of hope creeping back into his soul, but he squelches it. He is thinking of the First and the trigger. He’s been wondering, lately, if Giles had been right and the Slayer’s feelings were clouding her judgment: her feelings for him specifically.

“If it meant saving the world?”

He nods.

“I would.” She says plainly. “And it would be the end of me.”

Spike’s confused, again, at her response. He tries to find bravado behind her words or behind her eyes and there is none. She’s telling him the truth. The first part hurts, but he is proud. The second part hurts, and he is frightened.

As if guessing his interpretation, Buffy continues.

“I wouldn’t do anything stupid.” She says, her voice almost a whisper. Spike feels enormous relief. “I’d want to, b-but I wouldn’t.”

“Why, silly girl, do you say such things?”

“Because-,” she caresses his face between her hands, wiping the drying tears. “I don’t want to live where you don’t.”

Spike, unable to stand it anymore, captures the slayer’s mouth and kisses her gently. He doesn’t want to appear forceful, but his craving for her is quite literally driving him insane. She allows him in, deepening the kiss and slips her arms around his neck. Spike almost begins to cry as his unbeating heart’s desire is unfolding. Theirs is not a kiss of rage and passion; it is a kiss of loving and longing. It is slow and languorous. He slides his hands around to her back, pressing her closer to him. She cannot get close enough. One hand slides up into her hair as he cradles her head. Buffy’s fingertips are massaging the nape of Spike’s neck. They are devouring one another.

Their tongues dance and it tells a story: an incomplete one. But the taste is so sweet that it’s intoxicating to the both of them.

After a while, the kiss becomes less intense and more soothing. They stroke and caress each other, playfully but carefully. Buffy actually stands on the top of Spike’s boots. They stop, foreheads resting against each other, breathing heavily.

“Why do you breathe?” Buffy’s always wanted to ask.

“I never learned to stop.”

“When you sleep you stop. I always found it...a little scary.”

“Oh, sorry luv.”

“Don’t be. You can’t help it.”

“I'm dead.”

“Not where it counts,” she places a hand on his chest. “In here.”

Spike smiles. “You watched me sleep?”

Buffy smiles. “Yeah.” It’s a whisper.

Spike’s not sure why, but everything in him is telling him to leave right now.

He lets go of her suddenly. She stumbles backwards.

“Spike?”

He turns from her, hands running through his hair. “I...I should go.”

Confused, Buffy tries to turn him around. He won’t budge and she doesn’t force it. “Go...wh-why? Is something...Did I do something?” At that, Spike does turn and the look in his eyes finally does break her heart. He is leaving.

“Why?” She doesn’t want him to tell her because she knows the answer: she was not worth staying for. They all leave. Everyone leaves.

Darkness (Chapter 11 of Don't Stop the Dance)

Author’s note: It’s amazing how quickly some of you have turned against Spike here. Have faith in me people. I have faith in Joss. I want to believe what I’m hearing through the grapevine. Call me silly. :]

Enjoy!

Darkness

Spike is in the eye of a storm. When he takes his hands away from his face, he can see her. She is standing on a precipice. In front of her is he. Behind her is the battle that is to come. He doesn’t know which is worse.

“Buffy, I-“ he’s desperate to find the words. He is afraid, truly, horribly afraid for the first time in his existence. He doesn’t want to leave, but everything within him demands that he does. He must leave and not bring her anymore harm. Never again. This isn’t safe. I’m not safe.

Buffy is on the verge of screaming. Why, WHY do they leave? Everyone leaves. Mom, Angel, Riley…wh-what is so wrong about me that they-

“S’not safe…you…me. S’not…can’t do it.” He mumbles, his head hanging low.

Buffy is awash in a river of salty tears. She cannot hear him; she is consumed by her own thoughts. Leaving. Leaving. Leaving.

Spike’ s heart, which was full of joy a moment ago, is now a lead weight on his soul. It is breaking, for the last and final time. He must leave the only thing he’s ever loved to keep her safe. Her and his little one. But when he looks up at her, he doesn’t see the sadness he expected, he sees…he sees…

“Buffy…love…Buffy…breathe.” Her sobs are shaking her frame and she is gasping for breath. Instinctively Spike closes the gap between them and takes her in his arms. He wraps himself around her, stroking her hair and whispering in her ear. “Breathe, baby…PLEASE…you’re scarin’ me.”

Buffy isn’t aware of what’s happening. She is grasping onto Spike’s leather, her legs are no longer holding her weight. He scoops her up and lays her on the bed.

“BUFFY! Stop this! Stop! Breathe!” He whispers in screams. He places his cool hands on her face, smoothing away the torrent of tears. He has never known his Slayer to be so affected. It shakes him to his very core. Any thoughts he had of leaving are quickly decimated and he is berating himself for having entertained them. He would not leave her. Not ever. Not even if she-

“Buffy…I’m sorry, babe. So sorry. Please…please calm down. I’m here. I’m here. I promise, I’ll always be here. Please.” She isn’t responding. Her breaths are coming in short hitches. Her eyes are wide open and she is staring past him.

Spike can feel his anger brimming. What did I do? Stupid. Stupid!

“Buffy,” he positions his face directly above hers. “Buffy.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I love you…I’ll never leave.”

Her eyes shift their focus from empty space to him. She blinks and fresh tears slide down her cheeks to the pillows.

“Yeah, that’s right, pet.” He continues to smooth her hair back, wipe her face. He ventures a small smile. She just blinks, staring at him as if he were something foreign, something unknown.

“I could never leave you, love” he confesses. “You’re my whole bloody world, remember?” Buffy swallows hard. Spike brushes his fingers down her throat. Her breathing is almost normal now. “Yeah, that’s it. Come back to me, baby.”

Buffy blinks several times and tries to speak, but only small sounds escape from her throat. She sits up a bit and Spike stays with her, soothing and comforting her with words and touches. He hands her a glass of water from her nightstand.

“Take a swig.” He’s gentle and smiling now, oblivious to the turmoil inside. It’s insignificant if it means deserting her now. Whatever she wants of him, he would gladly give with no thought of himself. Friend, fighter, trainer…whatever. He is hers to do with as she pleases. And he will never let anything harm her or those she loves as long is he is around.

“Y-you’re leaving.” She states softly.

“No. Never.” He takes the glass from her and holds her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“You said-“

“I was stupid, out of my bleedin’ gourd. Forget I said anything, ok?”

“Forget everything?”

“Yeah, I’m not leavin’ you and the nibblet.” He smiles in relief.

She smiles a small smile. “Forget everything?” He nods. “Even the part when you said I-I love you?”

Spike’s expression suddenly turns serious. “Not that, no.” He touches his forehead to hers. “Never forget that.”

They close their eyes and sit that way for a few moments. Hands clasped, foreheads touching, eyes closed. Buffy is the one that breaks away. She looks at Spike and he opens his eyes. She smiles and looks down bashfully.

“I’m…sorry. I must seem…so weak. I-“

“No…no-“ he interrupts her, placing his hand on the back of her neck. “You’re under a lot of pressure, Slayer. You don’t need some stupid git like me mucking things up even more.” She starts. “But if you want me around, I’m here for the long haul. We’ll fight together, you and me, wha’ever happens.”

“Whatever happens.” She smiles a warm genuine smile and it warms him like a steady fire. “And never forget I love you.”

“That’s right, never forget I love you.” He reassures her.

“No, William, never forget I love you.”

Buffy can’t recall ever noting the vast range of human emotions. She is sure that she is seeing a great many of them as her words sink into Spike’s brain. Never forget I love you. Whatever is racing through him ends up on his lips as the most radiant smile she’s ever seen.

“Wha’? but you…you said…”

“I said I love you. No ifs, ands or buts.” She cups his face in her hand.

“I…I…uh…mmmm” he closes his eyes as the tears threaten to spill. Dreamin’. Must be. He opens them again and, yes, she’s still there.

“Uhmmm…Buffy…I-“ Get it together man. “I thought…y-you said before…earlier…you weren’t sure.”

“I was sure, Spike.” She brushes away his tears. “I just wasn’t brave.”

“Bloody hell, slayer.” Spike is laughing through his tears. He places his hands on her hips. “You’re the bravest…most unbelievably beautiful…most courageous…most heavenly creature…ever-” He settles down and looks deep into her. She is obviously overwhelmed by his words, his exclamation. “Ever to walk this earth.” He finishes softly.

“Spike, I-“ No clever response. She is overcome with the incredible feeling of being loved, truly loved. It’s like the dam has burst on a vast river of goodwill and kindness and she is the sole recipient.

Spike has a look of complete awe and wonder and Buffy’s heart swells. “You love me.” She nods, smiling.

Yes. He responds to her without words. We can, love.

They smile into each other’s eyes. Buffy leans into him and their lips touch. The kisses this time are feather-like and soft like tears. They are honey kisses that last through most of the night.

At last, near dawn, they curl up on the bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Their intimacy is limited to kisses and thoughts, but it is as close as either of them has ever been to pure ecstasy.

They sleep peacefully, no nightmares to disturb them. No voices from the corners and recesses of their minds. They sleep the sleep of the forgiven.

They know that tomorrow they will wake up from the darkness and into the light and face the world together.

On Any Other Day (Chapter 12 of Don't Stop the Dance)

It is the light that stirs Buffy from her peaceful sleep. The softness of the bed, the filtered light, and the strong arms that are holding her – all of this adds up to not getting up.

She carefully turns in Spike’s arms and traces the outline of his jaw with her finger. His eyes are closed in deep slumber and she takes the quiet time to study him.

Even in sleep, his hands are holding her in a firm caress. She smiles inwardly and lightly brushes her lips across his. No response. Deep sleeper. She grins. I’ll have to test that sometime.

She traces her fingertip along his eyebrow when her eyes drift away from his face and over to the window. Her breath catches in her throat.

The first rays of the sun are sliding over the sill towards them.

She bolts upright, startling Spike out of his stillness.

“S-slayer?” His voice is deeper than normal, velvet-covered gravel. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and attempts to gauge the situation as she darts off of the bed and over to the window.

“Damn!” Buffy pulls the shade down with a little too much force and it snaps from the anchor, letting in more light.

“Hey!” Spike spins off of the bed and to the other side of the room. “What the-“ He stops as he watches her frantically trying to cover the window with a blanket, cursing under her breath. He exhales unnecessarily, placing his hands on his knees. He begins to laugh softly, at first, and then more heartily. At the sound of his laughter, Buffy spins around glaring at him.

“What’s so funny?” She crosses her arms, her jaw set in anger.

Spike is still chuckling until he looks up and his eyes meet hers. What he sees there is anger masking fear. Fear of what, though, he doesn’t know.

“That was stupid – you could’ve…could’ve.” She sighs. “We have to be more careful.”

All that Spike can do is smile. He crosses over to her and places his hands on her shoulders. Yep, she’s trembling all right. He runs his fingers back and forth across her shoulders, waiting for her eyes to meet his, and she begins to relax. Her arms hang down at her sides, and she finally does look up. He steps into her and places his hand on the back of her head, leaning it against his chest. His arms enfold her. Her arms circle his waist feeling the cool skin beneath his shirt.

Spike doesn’t say anything. He knows. She had been frightened for him. She’d seen the sunlight coming in and it had terrified her. If he needed any confirmation that last night, something he suspected had been a dream up until this very moment, is real: here it is. She loves him.

They stand that way for a few moments until she pulls back a little and looks up at him. He places a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He kisses her forehead and turns from her. She watches as he gathers his coat and goes to the door.

“See you in a little while, Slayer.” He smiles.

“Yep.” She smiles back. She is sad to have him leave so soon, but she knows that having them emerge together from her bedroom would only be fuel on the fire that is the Potential Rumor Mill.

She takes a deep breath, stretches and heads to the bathroom, grabbing her robe. She’s going to take advantage of being up so early by getting first dibs on the hot water.

“Aw yeah.”

------------------------

Spike, in the basement, cleans up and changes into a fresh set of clothes. His lips are afflicted with a permanent smile that periodically travels up to his eyes and back down only to repeat the trip as he recalls the last 12 hours.

He thinks of her smiling. I love you. He still can’t quite fathom it. He dresses absent-mindedly and heads up the steps. When he reaches the top, she is there. The smile is plaguing her as well, apparently.

“Hey again.” She blushes. Blushing for me? Oh man…

“Hey yourself.” He grins, his tongue curling against his teeth. Don’t kiss him…don’t kiss him...but so want to.

They are both snatched out of the moment by the sound of clanging dishes and voices coming from the kitchen. Spike winks at her, puts on his best I'm-just-hangin face, and strolls into the kitchen. Buffy follows closely behind, but she sneaks a glance, amazed at his acting ability.

They run smack dab into a 3-ring circus complete with giggling, bickering teenage girls, a yawning Willow and their…uh…hostage, Andrew with that damn video camera.

-------------

I'm So Happy I Can't Stop Crying (Chapter 2 of Don't Stop the Dance)

Author’s note: Takes place immediately after ‘Storyteller’.

~Xionin (perra_de_amor@yahoo.com)

Enjoy!

Spike straightens out his shirt and glances around again.

“Yep, Slayer did it.” He turns towards Wood. The principal’s back is to him as he walks away. “Right...nice workin’ with you too.” He mutters.

Buffy and Andrew emerge from the basement. If he didn’t know any better, Spike would swear that the boy seems to have aged 10 years. Maybe he’s sussed out that it’s not all fun and games. He muses.

“You alright?” He looks Buffy over, concern set in his brow.

“Yeah,” she smiles thinly. “We’re fine, he just...” She gestures to Andrew. “He needed a quick lesson in reality.” Spike relaxes and briefly places his hand in the small of her back, mostly for his own reassurance. He is careful not to do it in Andrew’s sightline, although Andrew isn’t really aware of the pair of them, he is so lost in his own thoughts.

The three walk back to the Summers’ home in relative silence. Spike steals glances at Buffy when she isn’t looking. She does the same. They are both wary at having a third person along, but it can’t be helped. Andrew follows behind, his head down. They reach the house and file inside, exhausted from their efforts.

The threesome enters in the midst of a heated conversation that hushes as soon as Buffy and Spike enter the living room. Andrew quickly disappears upstairs, off in another world, it seems. Spike walks to the bottom of the stairs and watches the boy retreat, a curious expression on his face. Several Potentials are sitting around and their eyes follow Spike’s every move. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Is there a problem?” Buffy crosses her arms and addresses the group. Recognizing the tone in her voice, Spike steps back and stands behind her, looking to the group for a response.

“No.” Kennedy’s voice is hard and cold as is her expression. She cocks her head in defiance. Buffy lets out a sigh and heads into the kitchen. Spike lingers for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the group and follows her slowly. Willow and Xander are sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Buffy, everything go as planned?” Willow’s voice is weary, but she puts on a cheery face.

“Yeah...uh...” Buffy winces at some sudden fatigue and rolls her head around in an attempt to stretch out her muscles. Spike, without thinking, slips his hands onto her shoulders and begins to knead. She relaxes and continues.

“I think we succeeded in closing the seal...for now, at least. May buy us a little time.” She casually places her hand on her shoulder on top of Spike’s. He kisses the top of her head and releases her, heading to the refrigerator.

This entire scene plays out in front of Willow and Xander and the fact that the blonde pair is so in sync leaves both parties speechless. Willows eyes widen at the display. Xander feels the sudden need to be in the other room. Spike pulls out a container of blood and reaches for a mug.

“I'm…uh…gonna go check on the…uh…girls.” Xander lamely offers. He exits quickly. Buffy sighs, tired of walking on eggshells, she simply sits next to Willow on the vacated stool.

“You must be pretty beat, huh?” Buffy nods at Willow’s question. “You hungry? There’s leftover mac and cheese.”

“Nah, I think I'm just going to head upstairs.” Buffy slides off of the stool and heads out of the kitchen, glancing quickly over her shoulder to Spike who catches her voice faintly in his head. 15 minutes, then come up. Buffy quietly leaves.

Spike looks down at his mug when he feels Willow’s eyes on him and he looks up at her. She has a look of pure incredulity. She is initially unaware of her glaring, but then her face suddenly reddens and she looks down at her hands quickly. Spike, his eyebrows furled, brings the cup slowly to his lips.

“Heard that, did you?” he asks just before he sips, never taking his eyes off of her. Willow’s eyes slowly rise to his.

“Uh huh.” She looks oddly guilty, but even more oddly she looks…miffed.

“Hear anything else lately?” Spike sets the mug onto the counter. He places both hands flat and lowers himself a bit more to her eye level. Willow blinks in slow motion and a thin smile spreads across her lips. If it’s possible, her face becomes redder still.

“Since you’re asking…” she turns her head towards the door. Confident that no one is approaching, she turns back to Spike. “I taught her that, y’know.”

Spike’s eyebrows rise in confusion for a moment, and then he realizes, his eyebrows reaching for the ceiling, “the mind bit.”

“Yes. I-it was for emergencies and…stuff.”

“And…stuff?” Spike dares a grin. Willow doesn’t return it.

“Well…yeah…stuff,” she’s a little unsure of where he is going with this. “How long-“

“-have we been…speaking…that way?” Willow nods to Spike that he’s finished the question correctly. “Started the other night…when, uh we-“ He’s not sure how much to reveal to the redhead. She nods in understanding, though.

“I know…I was in the kitchen when she told you to go upstairs and wait for her.” Willow once again looks down a little guiltily.

“So when you followed me, you’d heard her?” Spike knows that Buffy and Willow had spoken about whatever was happening between them, but he didn’t know how much they had discussed.

“Yeah, that’s why I had to ask you what was up. I mean-“ Willow’s eyes look around the ceiling, searching for something. “That was some heavy duty stuff I felt from you and Buffy…and Xander.”

“So…do you..I mean-“ Now it’s Spike’s turn to stammer for the words.

“Spike,” Willow hops off of the stool and approaches the newly souled, master vampire. “Make Buffy happy and we’re friends forever,” she says almost cheerily. Something dark then passes over her face as her voice lowers to a whisper. “Make her sad or hurt her in anyway…” She doesn’t finish. Spike feels a pressure, like an invisible something…a hand, maybe…squeezing his throat. It doesn’t hurt, but it sure-as-hell frightens him. His eyes harden to a darker blue and he smiles with new respect for the witch.

“Understood.” He says slowly. I would never hurt her or allow her to be harmed. Not while I unlive and unbreathe.

You’ve said that before. She responds. Spike winces and his eyes close momentarily.

He opens them again, determined. The two are standing inches apart as he leans down to look into her eyes. That was before…I would never. I could never. EVER.

“I would rather die.” He says aloud. Neither of them takes notice as Giles enters the room, just returning from his trip he places one bag on the floor, a smaller one on the stool. His movements are in slow motion as he quietly observes the two of them.

Willow slowly lifts her hand and it hovers over the place where Spike’s heart should be. He nods in permission and she touches his chest. A slow tingling sensation starts out from her palm, through her fingers and into Spike’s chest. He feels a pang of fear and then relaxes as the tingling turns into warmth.

Willow closes her eyes, her mouth opening slightly. He studies her face, her mouth and realizes he’s never been this close to her before. He’d never noticed how pretty she is. Not beautiful like the Slayer, but…genuinely pretty. Just then the warmth spreads through his chest and he is forced to close his eyes.

Willow gasps and mutters something under her breath. Spike’s eyes snap open as do hers as if answering. They stare into each other.

Giles’ first instinct is to interrupt whatever Willow is attempting, but he is learning to trust the reforming Wicca. Besides, he will intervene if things get out of hand.

Spike and Willow are both on a mound or hill of some sort watching a small but fierce battle. Several Potentials are in a heated fight against agents of the First. Spike attempts to move from the spot they’re in, but he is unable.

“You can’t move,” Willow says to him. “You can only watch.”

“Why are we here? What’s this for?” Spike turns to her, angrily.

“This is what’s coming, Spike.”

“I bloody well know that.”

“And will you be there?”

“What?”

“Will you be there when it comes down to this?”

Spike glares at her for a moment and then he hears Buffy’s scream over the din of the fighting. He turns toward the sound and he sees her exchanging blows with someone while her left arm hangs loosely at her side.

“Buffy!”

“She can’t hear you.” Willow is unbelievably calm in this maelstrom.

“Why are you showing me this?” Spike is furious and outraged with the witch.

“Will you be there…will you be able to watch this knowing…knowing” she trails off. “Will you fight with her? For her?”

“God, of course I will!” Spike is desperate in his fury. He wants to run to her aid.

“Even now?” Willow asks and Spike looks at her quizzically and then turns his head back towards Buffy.

Buffy is standing aside as Angel defeats two attacking creatures. He then turns to her and takes her in his arms, comforting her. They both cling to each other, checking each other over for injuries. Suddenly their eyes lock and Angel bends to kiss her. Buffy timidly returns the kiss at first, but then it deepens and they wrap their arms around each other. Spike’s mouth drops open and tears spring to his eyes.

“No…no no no.”

“Could you still fight for her?” Willow is studying Spike intently.

“No...I…yes…yes, of course, but…” Spike can feel his heart breaking.

“No buts, Spike. Could you fight for her?” Willow’s voice is outside of her, around her and larger than life. It humbles Spike’s rage into submission.

Spike swallows and then blinks, the tears streaming down his face, his eyes locked on the kissing pair. “Yes, I will fight for her and with her and by her side. No matter what.” He confirms in a crackling whisper.

Willow’s eyes widen and then she suddenly smiles. The scene before them dissolves and Spike finds himself standing in the front lawn, with Willow, in front of a quiet Summers’ home. Again he blinks, wipes the tears and looks at the redhead.

“I'm s-sorry I had to do that.” She says softly.

“Why did you?” He isn’t angry as much as he is confused.

“I needed to know. You need to be strong, Spike. For Buffy.” Spike nods and the tears begin again. Willow turns around and the scene shifts again. Buffy appears before them and she is smiling, crying, laughing…all at once. She looks broken but free…relieved.

“She does need you, Spike.” Willow turns back to him, but his eyes are on the Slayer. There are twin rivers of salty liquid flowing down his face.

Giles moves closer to the pair, his gaze fixated on Spike’s face and he places a hand on Willow’s shoulder. She lets out a long breath and her hand falls away from Spike’s chest. Spike stumbles backwards and he catches himself on the sink. He then notices Giles’ presence. Eyes darting back and forth between the two of them, he straightens up and clears his throat. He turns to the back door, opens it, and walks out, closing the door behind him.

“Willow?” Giles doesn’t know what to make of the scene he’s just witnessed.

“Hi Giles.” Willow mumbles slowly, still watching the door.

“What, may I ask, was that all about?” He gently turns the girl towards him.

“I-I showed him something that he needed to see.” Willow replies softly.

“Well...do you think it w-was wise to, er, use your magic thusly?” He asks gently.

Willow looks up at Giles and she suddenly seems unsure. “I think so, I dunno. I hope so.”

Upstairs, Buffy steps back into her room; her hair is wet from the shower. She is disappointed to find that Spike is not there waiting for her. She reluctantly dresses in a tank and loose sweats before heading downstairs to look for him.

She peeks into the living room and scans the scattered sleeping bags filled with frightened but agitated young girls, thankfully too distracted by the glow of the television to notice her.

Buffy turns into the kitchen where she finds a newly returned Giles. It is obvious that he and Willow are having another ‘talk.’

“Giles, Spike will be fine.” Buffy only hears the last part of Willow’s sentence before she interrupts.

“What’s this about Spike?” Buffy’s great fear is that her former Watcher will find out some twisted version of what has transpired between her and the blonde vampire in the last few days before she’s had a chance to explain.

Willow turns to Buffy, an explanation forming on her lips, when Giles intervenes.

“That’s precisely what I would like to know, Buffy.” His fatigue from travel shows in his voice, as does his determination to finish the conversation they’d begun over the phone.

---------

Spike walks away from Revello drive, in no particular direction, but his feet carry him to a familiar place. His hands continue to wipe angrily at the tears that refuse to stop their descent from his broken eyes.

“Oh God…why…do I keep bloody doing this to myself!” he mutters. Wandering over to the familiar gray slab bearing the name of the one woman that had ever treated him with a modicum of pre-soul kindness, “Hi Joyce.” He crouches down in front of the tombstone, tracing his fingers over the letters and numbers etched in the granite. “Wish you were here, luv. You could tell me what the bloody hell to do here.” Spike’s words are angry, but his voice is soft in despair.

“She said she loved me, but I-I…” He places his head in his hands and begins rocking slowly, back and forth, finally curling up in a ball in front of the stone.

“I was happy, Joyce…for a moment” he whispers. “I mean…it was a bloody dream come true, hearing those words come out of her mouth.” He sighs. “I don’t deserve her love…I know that. But…” He chokes out a sob. “I guess…I guess I misunderstood, didn’t I?” He uncurls and lays flat on his back.

“I read more into those words. She. Loves. Me.” He pauses. “but she’s not in love with me.” He lets out an exasperated and ragged breath, but he is calming in his rationalization.

“Her heart will always belong to Angel, won’t it, Joyce?” He turns his head towards the small monument. He brushes his fingertips in long strokes across her name, almost in reverence. “She misses you, y’know.”

“So does the nibblet.” He sighs, looking up at the night sky. “I miss you too, but don’t worry. She may not love me as I would like, but she needs me. They all do. I’ll defend them with every last ounce of my strength.”

“I promise.”

With that he closes his eyes, his hand tracing lightly on his chest in the place where his heart should be.

---------------------

Willow quietly slips out of the room as Buffy and Giles are locked in what seems to be a stare down, of sorts. It is the older man that breaks the stalemate.

“Buffy-“ he starts.

“Look…” Buffy sighs and plops down on a stool, her fatigue returning ten-fold. “Giles, we’ve had this discussion.”

“No, I’m afraid we haven’t, Buffy. Now I understand that you feel somewhat responsible for Spike, but I still strongly believe that you are allowing his…er…state to cloud your judgment.”

Buffy looks slightly stunned by his words. “His…STATE?” Her lips form a thin, red line to prevent her next thought from escaping her mouth.

“Er…yes…his souled state,” Giles offers weakly, attempting to gather his thoughts. It is clear that he has not adjusted to the change in time zone. He looks as if he’s been awakened from REM sleep…eyes unfocused…words disjointed. “I know that his having gotten a soul…has…affected your judgment of him.”

“My judgment of him? Giles, listen to yourself.” Buffy’s patience is making a hasty exit, stage left as she attempts to keep some semblance of calm in her voice. “I am not anyone to judge Spike, Giles and neither are you.” Giles squints his eyes as the deep ridges of his forehead express his disbelief and imminent anger at her statement.

“Not anyone to…dear lord, girl, I can’t believe your stupidity.” His voice is so low that, if you were sitting across the room you would think that they were having an intimate conversation on a pleasant topic. But the words are dripping with condescension and Buffy bristles in reaction.

“My what?” She straightens up.

“You’re incredibly arrogant, young lady.” She blinks at him. “You’ve known of Vampires for, what, 6 years and suddenly you’re an expert on the species? Lest we forget I’ve spent the better part of my life hunting and killing the blasted things…readying myself to train the Vampire Slayer…and now, what…I end up with a Slayer that not only has romantic involvement with two of them-“ He spits out the word. “But is now endangering much of the Slayer line, not to mention the lives of her family and friends, by having him in this house!”

Buffy shoots up so quickly that Giles steps back from her defensively.

“If I thought that Spike were a danger, Giles, I would stake him myself!”

“But you didn’t, did you Buffy? He was feeding and siring again, for the First, and you didn’t rid yourself of him.” Giles steps forward and squares off with his charge. “Instead you helped him. You brought him back here knowing that he had that blasted trigger. Knowing that, at any moment, he could rip your throat out. Or Dawn’s. Or Willow’s!”

Buffy is shaking, her anger brimming. She wants to hit something, crush something, but instead she balls her fists up so tightly that her fingernails draw half-moon circles of blood in her palms. The stinging cools her ire down a degree, but only one.

Giles sighs, knowing that this line of fire will not sway her. “You’ve made a decision that Spike is an ally, Buffy, and I won’t challenge that. But I do need to make sure that he is no danger to us all as a puppet of the First.”

“He isn’t-“ she interjects.

“Oh he bloody well is!” His temper begins to simmer again, but he abates it. “That is why I went in search of something…something that may be able to break the First’s hold on him.”

Buffy relaxes her stance and lets out a small sigh of relief. “A way to de-trigger him?”

“Yes…but only if he is willing.”

“He is.”

“Are you sure, Buffy?” He moves closer to her and places a hand lightly on her shoulder. It is an awkward gesture, but she appreciates the sentiment.

“Yes. He wants nothing more than to be free of it, Giles.” She steps around him and turns back, regarding how fragile he seems all of a sudden. Not the wise sage she once thought him to be. Just a man. A man with fears. And a man with secrets.

“Well…er…good.” Giles fumbles in his pocket for a handkerchief. Finding one, he dabs at his forehead and pushes his glasses up, turning to face her. “Tomorrow I will research exactly how this will work. Of course, I will probably need Willow’s, uh, assistance.” Buffy nods. She looks over to the back door. Three beats later, Spike enters.

His eyes lock onto Buffy’s and Giles becomes instantly uncomfortable and rigid. “We’ll talk tomorrow Buffy.” He turns his back on Spike and gathers his things. Turning back to Spike, partially “Spike.” Spike doesn’t acknowledge him. Giles leaves the room unnoticed by either of them. Spike slowly closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“Where were you,” Buffy asks softly. “Why didn’t you come up, did you-, did something happen?”

Spike smiles, but it is only with his mouth. “Nah, pet…just needed some air, is all.” He walks towards her, arms outstretched, and she steps into him. He folds her into himself and rests his chin on her head. “I’ll always love you, Buffy Summers.” He states simply…softly. She mmmmmm’s into his chest.

He smiles, but a tear escapes. Quickly, he brushes it away. “I’ll walk you upstairs, luv.” She tips her head back and the look of contentment on her face breaks his heart even more.

He kisses her forehead before she turns to lead them upstairs.

Buffy walks up to her door and opens it, walking through, her steps slowed by exhaustion. She is holding Spike’s hand as he follows her, but he stops at the threshold of her door, allowing her hand to tug at him for a moment until she turns back to him, perplexed.

He really wants to step inside, but to cross that line…knowing.

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice is weary, it snaps him out of his reflection. “What’s up? What happened downstairs?”

“Nothin’ luv…jus-“ he sighs and forces a smile. “Jus tired, is all.” But he still doesn’t move. He stands, as if frozen, just outside of his heaven: her room. Her world. Her.

He wants to feel angry, with the witch, with Willow. He understands with painful clarity what the phrase ‘Ignorance is bliss’ really means. If he could…if he…if only he could go back. A few hours even. Go back in time and not know the vision.

“S-Spike…” Buffy moves toward him slowly. He is staring beyond her and she wonders what the hell-“Spike, you’re all moody. Don’t tell me it’s nothing. What happened with you?” He suddenly notices her. “Was it Giles? Willow?” His eyes widen at the mention of the redhead. “It was Willow? What did she- did she hurt…”

“Pet.” He has to clear his throat; it’s so dry…parched. She crosses over to him, stopping just in front. Her eyes are so soft, her demeanor so gentle, so loving. Spike feels…bitter. He inadvertently takes a small step back. Buffy frowns and her eyes dart over his frame in an attempt to understand whatever it is that’s going on.

“Sp-“

“I-I should go, Buff” He is unable to look her in the eye.

“Go?” She reaches up to touch his face but he flinches. “Wh-Spike. What the hell is going on?” Her tone is slightly harder, her nostrils flaring as her impatience stirs.

“Look, pet, a lot has happened. Don’t misunderstand, I’m grateful-“

“Grateful?” Buffy huffs and steps back from him.

“I mean-“ he lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t think I could ever express how much it means to me, luv, being here with you.” She relaxes a little and smiles, but he continues. “I never thought…I didn’t think you and I would ever get to this place, y’know?” She nods.

“Spike, do you wanna come in here and we can talk ab-“

“No…no, bad idea, that.” He laughs nervously and ignores the lump of pain building in the back of his throat. She shrugs her shoulders in a question. “Let me finish.” She nods, leaning against the doorframe. Her expression is so full of love and patience that he almost gives in. Almost.

“Like I said, I never thought that we’d be in this place…that you’d let me get this close. And yeah, I’m grateful. But my eyes are clear, luv.” She tenses up and he runs his hand lightly down her arm and takes her hand. She looks down as her fingers lace through his.

“I’m here for you, Buffy, always.” She smiles, but doesn’t look up. “I’ll always love you…no matter what.” At that she does look up and she catches the tears in his eyes.

“Spike.” She breaks their contact and raises both of her hands to his cheeks, wiping the tears. “What’s this all about?”

“Luv…I know I’ll never be enough for you…and I don’t want you to settle…for less than you deserve.” His voice is faltering, the tears threatening to engulf him. Buffy really wishes that they were in her room and not halfway in the hall.

“Spike, why are you saying this? I thought we…I thought we were better.” She tries to make eye contact with him, but he refuses.

“We are…we’re better.” He chokes out a bitter laugh. “We’re better than I ever thought we’d be, luv. Better than I deserve.”

Buffy’s hands drop and she starts to speak, but no words come. She turns from him, back into the room, mumbling to herself and shaking her head. Finally, she turns back.

“What is going on with you!?” She is clearly annoyed. Spike is suddenly unsure and he shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What did they say to you down there? Huh?”

“S’not what anyone said, luv. I know you. I’m just saying that our friendship is important to me and I don’t want to muddy it up by doing something we’ll both regret later.” Maybe she’ll understand, now, and not see how much this is killing him.

“Our...friendship?” Buffy does a perfect impersonation of a codfish. “Is that what this is?” Her shoulders slump, defeated as the air leaks out of her annoyance.

“Not just that, luv,” he whispers. “You mean the world to me. I don’t want to risk hurting you again.” He pauses, taking a deep breath to prepare for his admission, “and…I…I can’t risk being hurt again.”

Buffy blinks once, twice and then her hands cover her face. The urge to walk to her and take her in his arms is bloody overwhelming, but Spike doesn’t move. Buffy calms herself and takes her hands down. The tears aren’t falling, but her face is wet.

“Ok. I understand.” She offers a small smile. He struggles to return it.

“Well…I uh…better” he gestures over his shoulder.

“Yeah…uh…I’ll see you…um…tomorrow.”

They stare at each other a few moments, neither wanting to move. Neither knowing what to say. Neither knowing what just happened. Spike turns to go.

“Spike?”

“Yes?”

“When did you fall in love with me?”

He clears his throat.

“The first moment I saw you, luv. All tough and soft, and fire and ice.” His posture and voice soften as his memories come flooding back. He leans against the doorframe and she takes a few steps towards him. Blue meets green as he continues.

“You…were…the end of me, Slayer. I came to kill you, but you did me in.” He chuckles. She smiles up at him, leaning her head on the other side of the doorframe. “You were…are…the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You melted and reformed me with one glance.” He reaches up and cups her face in his hand, his eyes misting again.

“And…” her expression saddens considerably. “When…when did you fall out?” It is almost a whisper, but he catches it. He straightens and brushes his fingers over her brow, which relaxes. He leans in and places a soft, chaste kiss on her temple. “You see when it comes to you, Buffy Summers” he whispers in her ear. “You don’t fall out.”

Before she can respond, he turns and walks down the stairs. She closes her bedroom door and sits on the floor against it, the tears spilling once more.

“Don’t ever fall out, Spike. Never fall out.”

Man in a Suitcase (Chapter 15 of Don’t Stop the Dance)

She slowly relaxes her body into the mattress and in the release of the tension she bursts into tears. Her body shudders with her dry sobs. Her mouth is open with a grotesque half-smile-half-grimace. Her throat is constricting, but no sound escapes.

She inhales sharply and the action causes her to cough. There’s a soft knock on the door.

“Buffy?” Dawn’s tiny voice seeps through the seams of the wooden door. “You up?” Buffy draws a pillow over her face. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“Just getting up now, Dawnie.” She holds her breath as another sob threatens to escape.

“You ok?”

She lowers the pillow. “I'm ok, Dawn. Didn’t get much sleep.” She lies. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Well hurry it up. Giles says he needs to see you...he and Willow.” Dawn’s voice trails off as she moves away from the door.

“Yeah, okay.” Buffy kicks the covers off, but it doesn’t ease her frustration. Annoyed with herself, she picks the discarded sheets up off the floor, balls them up, and tosses them back on the bed. Running her hands through her hair, she walks over to the window and peers out. Another Sunny day in not-so-Sunnydale. It should cheer her up, right? The sunshine.

It doesn’t.

In fact, it has the opposite effect. It only makes her think of the night. And the night represents something entirely different.

Last year, the night meant solace: a reprieve from the harsh realities of her life. False smiles given to her friends and family just so that they wouldn’t worry. False smiles given in reassurance that she’d forgiven them for pulling her out of Heaven.

The daylight that she’d once adored was a nightmare and the only way she could pull herself out of it was by turning to the only one that seemed to understand what she was going through: Spike.

Spike: the man that loved her.

Of course she never honored him by calling him a man then. She called him everything but a man. A monster. Soulless, heartless, cruel, evil, defenseless, ridiculous, neutered, laughable Spike. But he wasn’t that. Hadn’t been for a long time, many of those things. What he was was everything she didn’t want and everything she’d needed...so desperately...and she used him.

God, she used him like a tissue you soil and then discard. Used him like a bottle of alcohol you drain to forget your troubles and then toss out with the garbage. Used him like a confessional. Like a form of penance.

She treated him like a thing, like a ‘lesser than’. And now she expects him to be grateful for her? Of course she does, he always has been.

Grateful for every crumb she threw his way.

He begged for it every time she slithered away from the bed after fucking him six ways from Sunday until she was numb inside and out and didn’t need him to make her ‘feel’ anymore.

He begged her to stay, sometimes with words, sometimes with his eyes. And she had only laughed, or hit...mostly hit. And when he got to her, when she felt those heartstrings beginning to vibrate, she spat hate at him to validate her own warped, black and white view of the world.

Buffy turns from the window and goes to search through her drawers for something to wear. She looks up in the mirror and pauses at her reflection.

“Oh my God,” she says quietly. “I’ve lost him. I can never take it back.”

------------

Spike is lying on the cot, still dressed in last night’s clothes, but does it really matter? He hasn’t slept anyway. He’d heard her all night, in her room, wrestling with her nightmares.

He replays the recent events in his mind, including the searing kisses and the vision of Buffy in Angel’s arms. Both had changed his world inalterably.

He squeezes his eyes shut.

He knows Buffy better than anyone. He knows that every insult she pelted him with last year had held a grain of truth for her. No, she couldn’t ever love him that way. His eyes open to the ceiling.

It should be enough, but somehow it isn’t.

He chides himself with a snort and sits up. Running his fingers through his hair, he pulls his t-shirt roughly over his head and stands up, tossing it in the dirty pile. Grabbing a fresh one from a pile of clean laundry, he tugs it on. The sound of many, clobbering feet above his head brings out a groan.

I'm here to help and that’s what I’ll do. When this is all over, though, if I'm still standing… he lowers his head, placing his hands on the washer. I-I don’t know if this is the best place for me to be.

He turns and heads up the steps. He opens the basement door only to find Buffy standing on the other side. It’s a torturous form of Déjà vu. No smiles this time only two sets of anguished eyes.

“Mornin’” His voice is barely above a whisper as he takes in the sight of her. All of the emotion of the last few days sweeps over him like a tsunami, but he remains in control.

“Hey.” She replies with a weak smile.

“You sleep ok?” He asks, genuine concern in his voice. He wants her to tell him exactly how she slept, but he knows she’ll lie.

“Yeah,” she lies. “You?”

“Yeah.” Lies all lies, but they both agree to the farce.

“I was just coming to get you...Giles has something to talk to me about and I wanted...I wondered...if you could work with the girls down here.”

“Yeah...sure.” That’s what I'm here for.

“Great...thanks.” I don’t know how much of this I can bear. He looks so broken. How do I fix this? Can I fix this?

“No problem, luv.” He produces an actual smile this time, and she gratefully returns it. Suddenly they both break eye contact, looking around and down and about...anywhere but at each other.

“Well...just let me-“ he begins, stepping towards her.

“Of course.” She says nervously, stepping back out of his way. He brushes past her and she inhales involuntarily.

“Jus’ need to get a cuppa...something to stop my stomach from grumblin’-“ he mumbles, moving past her. Her arm jerks out and she places her hand on his arm and he stops, turning back to her.

“Spike-“ she dares to look up at him. “I'm...” Her face falls and he is so still that he looks frozen. Just then he flashes his white teeth and gives her the warmest smile he can muster.

“No need, pet.” He places his hand on top of hers and squeezes gently before moving away and into the kitchen. She watches him and leans back against the closing basement door. She needs to get away from him it’s too much.

She heads the opposite direction and out the front door to try a little sunshine therapy.

-----------

Spike straightens up the basement after his light workout with the Potentials. Attendance was poor, since they’ve made it clear that they’re uncomfortable around him for some reason. Not that anything’s changed, but he can feel something brewing.

Either way, he’s done his part for the day and decides to settle in for some reading. The girls have gone out for a while and the house is blessedly quiet. He scratches his head a bit and wonders what he’s in the mood for.

Too late, there she is. Buffy. He sighs, reaching under the cot for a small suitcase full of things retrieved from the crypt before he’d officially moved into Fort Summers. He slides the well-worn case out and pulls it up onto the cot.

It is old, very old. He doesn’t even remember when he’d gotten it. 1910? 1920? Somewhere around there. He clicks both locks open and lifts the lid. The smell of dust, age and paper hits his sensitive nostrils. He inhales deeply, closing his eyes.

Spike feels nauseous. He shakes the memory from his head, whispers, “I'm sorry, I didn’t know” as he does every time the memory of a kill comes to him. It’s a reverent phrase. Almost a Hail Mary.

Sifting through the contents of the case he shuffles through pages of poetry, some small trinkets and scraps of fabric, and a few bits of shells and stones he’s collected in his travels. Occasionally he pulls something out and rubs it through his fingers, reliving some pleasant memory, a small smile playing on his lips.

He muses over a tiny coin that’s been pressed flat. A memory of railroad tracks and a near decapitation breezes through his mind. He chuckles.

Digging deeper into the case, he peruses what’s left of his collection of books: Neruda, Moliere, Chaucer, Henry James, Dante, the Sonnets. That one stops him.

A lil’ Bard’ll do me.

He pulls out the leather-bound volume and flips through it gingerly.

The book falls open to one that he’s always loved and had once committed to memory. He begins to softly read aloud from the page when the words fill his mind and he closes his eyes, not needing the written word anymore.

His voice is low and soft as he whispers the poem like a prayer.

Spike laughs at himself, at the thought that when he’d first set this poem to memory, he’d had assumed he’d die and leave Cecily to mourn him. Little had he known that he’d be condemned to more than 100 years of walking with, and bringing, death with him wherever he went.

And if he dies today, who will mourn him? The Slayer? Well, yeah. She loves him, after all, and would mourn the loss of her friend...her comrade in arms.

But that is not the kind of mourning the poet in him wants. William always wanted to be the world to someone: to be Cecily’s world, the way she was his. The old Spike wanted to be Drusilla’s world. And the new Spike wants to be Buffy’s world, the way she is his. But she is more than his world. She is his galaxy, his universe.

His waking up and his lying down.
His going out and his coming in.
His ‘never’ and his ‘forever’.

She is his life and she will be his death. He knows this. Knows it. And welcomes it. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

But if he were to die, right at this moment. If one of the Potentials or the Scoobies decided to stake him in his sleep, would she know? Were he to be...just gone...would she understand what she meant to him? How she’d changed him? Would she know that he understood why she could never love him and yet that he was grateful for everything she’d done, every time she’d treated him like a man?

Spike sighs and puts the book back in the case.

He lets the thought slip away and tries to push it down inside and lock it in a box.

He glances over at the case and extracts a few sheets of blank, handmade paper. He pulls out a pen, closes the case and sits over it, placing the papers on top. He chews on the end of the pen, deep in thought. Looking down at the paper, he begins to write; Victorian penmanship scrawling across the surface like scrollwork in an ornate gate. He writes and reads, shakes his head and crumples up the first sheet, tossing it aside.

He begins again. This time the words flow out of his fingertips like water from a faucet. When they slow to a trickle, twenty minutes later, and end with a final droplet, he sits back and re-reads what he’s laid out for her.

He doesn’t notice the tears on his cheek, only smiles, satisfied with the clarity of what he’s written. He folds the papers, sealing them with a lock fold, writes her name on the outside and places it back into the case. He knows she’ll go through it when he’s gone. Knows she’ll find it and read it. Wishes he could tell her these things now, but he doesn’t want to create more confusion for them.

When he does die, it will be easier for her to understand and to accept without having to deal with his feelings for her. He’s fine with that, as long as she knows someday.

He slides the case back under the cot and leans back against the wall, closing his eyes. There’s more noise coming from upstairs and the sun is setting. He prepares himself for the night, because who knows what it will bring. The door opens at the top of the steps.

“Hey Spike, you down there?” Kennedy’s shrill voice jerks his eyes open.

“Yeah, M’here. What do you want?” It takes so little for her to agitate him.

“Buffy wants to know if you’re up for patrolling” she huffs.

“Yeah, I'm coming.” he slides off of the cot, grabbing his duster, and walks up the steps. Kennedy turns and walks away as he emerges from the basement. He hears Buffy’s voice coming from the living room and moves towards it, not quite ready to see her, but oh well...

He’s none too pleased to see Principal Wood there with her. He is turned so that he cannot see Spike approaching. Spike watches him watching Buffy as she explains something to a couple of the girls. Wood’s eyes move appreciatively over Buffy’s lithe body. Spike bristles, his jaw setting like stone.

“You wanted me?” Spike says a little too loudly to Buffy, never taking his eyes off the Principal. Everyone turns to look at him. He puts on his best smirk. Wood’s eyes turn cold as they glance over him, paying particular attention to his black coat. Spike can smell the hatred seeping from him. He nods. Robin returns the gesture. Buffy walks over between them.

“Spike-“ she says as all-business-and-nothing-personal-ly as she can. There is so much tension between him and Wood, she can barely breathe. “I want you to patrol with Robin and me.” Spike breaks eye contact with the man to glare down at her, a protest ready on his tongue. When he meets her eyes, however, he notes the pleading in them.

“Sure,” is all he can muster as a response. Her eyes twinkle in appreciation as a small smile curves her lips. If he could blush he would but he ducks his head instead, finding something incredibly interesting on his boots to stare at. The gesture is so endearing that Buffy momentarily forgets where she is and who is with her because she steps forward and places her hand on his chest.

“Thanks.” She says softly and smiles with her eyes. He looks up at her and smiles in return, happy to feel her touch again. Robin audibly grunts and then tries to cover by clearing his throat. Buffy nearly jumps back as her surroundings come back to her.

“Okay, then-“ she says walking over to the table and grabbing a few stakes. “Let’s go.”

The unlikely threesome head out the door and into the night.