Buffy was halfway across the parking lot when he caught up with her. She didn’t acknowledge his presence for the first three blocks. It wasn’t until she stepped into the line at one of the seedy nightclubs and began to fish money from her purse for the cover charge that she gave him any notice. He caught her arm, pulling her toward him, and she shoved him. “Go away.”

Spike stepped closer to her and spoke to her in a low voice. “If you cause a scene I’ll humiliate you.”

“Your presence humiliates me,” she replied, but she allowed him to pull her away from the club and the promise of a stiff drink.

They walked next to one another, him gripping her elbow until they were out of the seedy downtown area and closer to the beach. Buffy closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar salty air of the ocean. It was nostalgic and she had missed it more than she realized. It reminded her of her mother. It reminded her of home. When they had been a real family, a mom, a dad, a bratty kid sister. Before being a Slayer had ruined it all.

“You want to tell me what happened back there?” Spike asked.

“Which part?”

“The part with your father.”

“Not really, no.”

“You hate him?”

“No, I just refuse to let myself be disappointed by him again.”

“You don’t think-”

“No, I don’t think. I don’t think at all.” Buffy paused where the pavement met the beach and kicked her shoes off. “It’s easier to just push them all away before they can go on their own.”

“I thought we were talking about your father?”

Buffy turned and looked at him. “We’re talking about people in general.”

“I see.”

“You know what? When you don’t sound like Angel, you sound just like Giles. Where did you go?”

“You’re one to talk! Where did *you* go? You’re not the same person you used to be. Not that it needs saying, but I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that abundantly clear.” Buffy stalked across the beach, clutching her shoes in her hand. “You know what? Stop following me. I’ve had all the rejection I can stand.”

Spike laughed. “If I’m following you how exactly am I rejecting you?”

“Shut up!”

“Is that the best you got, love?”

Buffy ignored him and continued toward the water. She dropped her shoes a few feet away from where the waves were gently lapping at the shore and stepped into the cool spray. It did little to calm her rising temper.

He sat down in the sand and watched as she paced back and forth in the water. She was doing a very respectable job of ignoring him and he allowed it to continue for several minutes. Finally, he said, “I want to talk to you about your journal.”

”It’s not a journal and it’s not mine. I gave it to you.”

“You’re in such a giving mood so where’s the necklace? My Christmas present?”

She stopped mid stride and turned to look at him. “I don’t take it off.”

“I thought it was mine.”

Instinctively, her hand went to the place between her breasts where the chain and charms rested below her shirt. She couldn’t imagine not having it next to her heart at all times. When she was scared, nervous, lonely, especially lonely, she would toy with it and it would be okay for a while.

“Can I at least see it, Buffy?” he asked.

Nodding, she stepped from the water and pulled it from the neck of her shirt. She kneeled in the sand in front of him and turned her palm up, letting it rest delicately there.

Spike watched her face as she traced the silver spike and heart, then looked up and met his eyes. Swallowing hard, he lifted the charms and studied them. “It’s perfect.”

Buffy smiled, a genuine smile, for the first time that night. “I knew you’d like it.”

“I wish I could have been there to receive it.”

Her smile vanished and her face clouded. She stood, stuffing it back into her shirt. “Nothing stopped you.”

“I’m here now.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m not giving it to you. I bought it for the man I knew in Sunnydale. The one who loved me. Wanted me. Died for me. He’s still dead to me.”

She made a move to grab her shoes, but he caught her arm and wrestled her down into the sand beside him. “The woman that I wanted, loved, and died for ... would never let demons kick her ass for the hell of it! She’d never run from her friends, from her little sister, hide inside a bottle when the going gets rough.” He tightened his grip on her. “The woman I loved wasn’t this pathetic.”

“Let go of me!” Buffy screamed, head butting him in the face. He fell backwards, holding his nose. Without thinking, she kicked him hard in the gut.

Almost as soon as her foot connected with him, she found herself lying on her back and he was advancing on her. She deflected his hands as he reached for her and twisted, trying to flip upright. The sand prevented that maneuver and she landed hard on her backside. His laughter infuriated her. Seeing red, she jumped to her feet and punched him hard, splitting the back of her hand open with the force of it.

The power of the blow knocked him backward and he tasted his own blood. And hers. The demon inside of him raged to the fore as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “There you are,” he chuckled. “Fair warning, baby, unlike your precious Angel, I won’t hesitate to kick your ass.”

“Unlike my precious Angel, you don’t stand a chance.”

Fury surged through his veins and he attacked, shoving her so hard that even the sand couldn’t stop her bones from jarring as she landed on her backside.
Grabbing her arms, her wrenched her upward, waited until she got her footing, and then knocked her onto her backside again.

“Why won’t you hit me?” she screamed at him as she got to her feet. “Don’t push me around! Hit me! Damn you, hit me!”

Spike ducked as she swung at him and tackled her around the middle. She clawed him as he landed on top of her and he growled. “If that’s the best you can do it’s no wonder you let them kick your ass. You don’t have a fucking choice.”

“You gone soft on me, Spike?” Somehow she managed to get her foot positioned just right and kicked upward, sending him flying into the air. He landed in the water, and slowly got to his feet. “Yeah, I’d say you have gone soft. Is that why you don’t want me? You can’t perform? You really do belong in Angel’s world, don’t you?”

Spike glared at her, trying to ignore the fact that the water was freezing. If he got within striking distance, he actually would hit her. And he doubted that he would be able to stop.

Buffy swallowed hard as she regarded the fury on his face, which seemed more menacing since he was bleeding, since his hair was sticking up on end. Hating herself more than usual, she bit her lip in an attempt to stop the tears that stung her eyes from falling.

For some reason ... Spike had not hit her once. She refused to even contemplate what it could mean. But did it mean that he did love her? No, she couldn’t go there.

He watched her as she took a step back and bent to pick up one of her shoes. The other was lying at the water’s edge and his skin tingled when she glanced from it back at him. Could that be fear in her eyes?

She had pushed him too far and if she didn’t leave now ... She took a step toward her shoe and he took a step toward the shore. The sudden movement made her draw up short and watch him closely. “I’m done, Spike. We’re finished. You go your way and I’m gonna go mine.”

“We’re not even close to finished.”

The icy tone of his voice was like a vise around her heart. They stared at one another, her eyes wide, his narrowed. Finally, she said, “Just let me get my shoe and go. They’re Dawn’s and she’ll kill me.” She stepped forward.

So did he. “Not if I beat her to the punch.”

“Don’t.”

He took another step forward and she held her ground. “When you invite someone to do something, it’s not right to leave before they get to.”

“Get to what?” Confused, her brow furrowed.

“You asked me to hit you and I never leave a woman wanting.”

He stalked toward her and Buffy dropped the shoe, turning to run. He caught her before she had made three long strides, lifted her by the back of her shirt and pants, then tossed her into the water headfirst.

Spike was standing before her, waist deep in the cold tide, when she broke the surface. He grabbed her, one hand tangled in her hair and the other seized her throat painfully. She pawed at him, trying to wrench free, but he shoved her under the water and held her there. Finally, he pulled her up. “You still got a death wish? You still want a demon to get the better of you?”

Wracked by a coughing fit, Buffy could only shake her head. She was kneeling before him, the water up to her neck, and almost instantly, her tears mingled with the salt water on her cheeks. "Please..."

Spike lifted her out of the water and carried her in his arms across the sand, stopping only to lift her shoes, which dangled from his fingers as he made his way toward Wolfram and Hart.


Part Nine:

For what seemed like an eternity, Buffy buried her face against Spike’s shoulder. The gentle rocking motion as he carried her across town was enough to relax her taut muscles. She sighed, pulling him closer, breathing in the rich aroma of salt water, flesh, and aged leather. As much as she found comfort in his embrace, however, she soon realized where they were heading and shook her head. “Don’t take me to Wolfram and Hart,” she said. “I need to be with Dawn.”

Spike didn’t change his course. “Tonight you need to be with me.”

She shifted her weight and easily slipped from his arms, feeling bereft as her bare feet hit the sidewalk. She studied him for several long, unflinching moments. “Our last night together was beautiful. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the last time I ever slept in your arms.”

“Who said anything about sleeping, pet?” He arched an eyebrow, a cocky grin breaking through his determined glare. "We're not fighting this anymore."

"We? Do you have a mouse in your pocket? *I* haven't been fighting anything."

He yanked her into his arms and stared down at her. "You're coming with me. I'm going to erase every second that we've been apart."

Buffy felt her body react instantly to his words, the familiar tightening in her womb, the flutter between her legs. She knew her face was flushed with desire and that her breathing had become ragged. Shrugging, she attempted to appear nonchalant about his words, but she could tell he wasn’t buying it. She took a step backwards as he moved toward her, shaking her head. “You wish.”

Gripping her hips, Spike yanked her against him, letting her feel his arousal. “I do wish, love. Every second of the day.”

She trembled, hating her body for betraying her as he ran his thumb over her hardened nipple. Without thinking, she leaned her head back, granting him access to her throat. He obliged her, nipping and kissing. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she held him against her, shaking with want, yielding with need.

"Please, Spike," she whispered.

He glanced down at her, saw the fire in her eyes, and pulled her toward an alley that ran behind a row of dilapidated warehouses. He noted the stack of pallets and garbage that littered every conceivable surface and picked her up, mindful that she wasn't wearing shoes. He stalked through the darkness and slipped inside one of the buildings. His face morphed, his yellow eyes scanning left and right. He saw a desk shoved into a corner and strode toward it.

Sitting her on the edge, he kissed her again, removing his jacket as he did so. He slipped it behind her, spreading it over the scratched wooden surface of the desk. Words were unneeded as he lifted the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. He could see a sliver of moonlight peeking around a bookcase and he shoved it out of the way, exposing the window. Turning, he could see her fully and let his face slide back to its human visage.

Buffy sat confidently, allowing him to look his fill. She watched him swallow, watched the way his jaw clenched and he adjusted himself before coming back to her. She opened her arms and he nuzzled against her ear, whispering how beautiful she was.

They kissed and there was a feeling of coming home coursing through Buffy’s soul. For so long she had been unnecessary, not really needed by anyone. As he yanked his shirt over his head and discarded his pants, she saw just how much he needed her. She lifted her hips as he eased her pants down and tossed them aside.

Naked, Buffy pulled him to her. Wordlessly, she unhooked the clasp of the necklace, his Christmas present, and put it around his neck. She let her fingertips brush across his chest, making sure it was straight, then she leaned forward and kissed the charm, then his cool flesh.

He was moved more than he would admit. His throat tightened as he stared down at her unshed tears that sparkled in the dim moonlight. “It’s okay, luv.”

“It will be,” she replied.

Spike felt his eyes bulge as she wrapped her small, hot hand around his shaft and lightly stroked him. He felt like a randy schoolboy as he thrust his hips, straining to feel more of her, all of her. He wanted to slam her backwards and mount her immediately, but that was not what she needed.

He did push her backwards, however, and rained kisses from her breasts, to her ribcage, to the soft, taut flesh of her belly. She lifted her hips, begging him silently to move lower. He greedily obliged and parted her flesh, tasting her desire, her passion.

With a groan, he gripped her thighs, digging his fingertips into her flesh. Buffy thrashed her head from side to side, moaning his name in a steady cadence. He brought her to the edge, then pulled back, watching as she whimpered for release. Finally, he gave it to her. Inserting one digit, then two into her slick passage, he felt her clamp down on him, saw her body tense. The sounds she made were music and it heightened his arousal ten fold.

Easing her to the very edge of the desk, he watched as she massaged her distended nipples, rolling them between her fingers. It drove him insane. For a while, he had entertained the thought of taking her gently, but his body rejected that plan and he plowed into her with everything he had.

Buffy gripped the edge of the desk. It had been so long, too long. He filled her almost to the point of pain, and she shook with the power of it. He held her legs against his chest as he pounded her, then without warning, he pulled her to her feet and pushed her over the desk, so that she was face down. He entered her again, this time he reached around her and massaged the part of her that had begun aching anew.

Within seconds, she shattered again, her voice hoarse and husky as she moaned his name and something about God. He pulled her up a little so he could cup her breasts and eventually joined her, spilling his seed deep inside her womb.

Spent, Buffy collapsed forward, all of her weight on the desk. She felt him ease out of her, kiss the nape of her neck, and heard him gathering their clothes. It took a second to realize that she had stopped shaking from the power of their passion, but instead was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. Her teeth actually chattered together painfully.

“You need to get dressed, pet. We need to go.” Spike held out her clothing.

On weak legs, she stood and attempted to dress. It was impossible between the shivering and the lack of desire to punish herself by pulling the frigid pants on. Spike finally took pity on her and wrapped her in his coat. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but it covered her completely, almost dragging the ground. He dressed himself, handed her the wet clothing, and picked her up again.

“I can walk if you just give me my shoes.”

“I’m not exactly sure where they are.”

Her eyes widened. “Those are Dawn’s!”

He set her back on the desk and prowled around. Finally he found them and held them out to her. “Impractical things, really.”

Slipping them on, Buffy was inclined to agree. Her legs were still weak from the intensity of their coupling and she couldn’t see four feet in front of her because the moonlight had dwindled to nothing. The heels may as well have been toothpicks. When she stumbled for the fifth time in a row, Spike lifted her again.

“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” she asked as he emerged from the warehouse and set out toward Wolfram and Hart.

“What do you want to know, pet?”

“What it means.”

“It means I love you, Buffy. It means that I can’t stop and I can’t stay away from you -”

“But you did.”

He sighed, moving past the pallets in the alleyway and emerging back onto the sidewalk that would lead them to Wolfram and Hart. “Are you coming home with me?”

“Are you going to leave me again?”

“I didn’t leave you!”

“You did.”

“I *died* for you. Granted, I knew what I was doing, but all the same, it’s not like I had a choice.”

“But you came back. You came back and you didn’t even *try* to find me. That’s the same as leaving me.”

Spike stopped walking and closed his eyes against the budding anger he was beginning to feel. He wanted to continue to bask in what they had shared, but apparently, she had other plans. “I’m sorry. I apologize. I was wrong. Now will you come home with me?”

As an apology, it was sorely lacking. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Bloody hell,” Spike growled as she struggled in his arms. He was forced to let her go and she pulled his coat tighter around herself.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow before I leave and give this back to you.” With that, she turned on her impractical heels and strode in the opposite direction.

He tried to count to ten so he wouldn’t strangle her. He made it to eight before he chased after her. “What the hell is wrong with you now, Summers?”

“I can’t do this.” She kept walking, looking straight ahead. “I don’t think I can ever forgive you for what you’ve done to me.”

“I was a soddin’ ghost! And then I was confused as hell when I finally did come back all the way and then I thought you had moved on with the Immortal and then-”

“Well, your reasons suck! I told you I loved you. You knew how I felt!”

“I didn’t think you meant it! Not really. I mean, you were hot and cold and then you’re saying it when you know I’m dying!”

“I said it without saying it the night you found me and I said it again without saying it in my kitchen when you told me it was the best night of your life and I said it yet again after you accused me of being with Angel and made your stupid punching bag with his picture and I stayed with you all night and it was perfect and I said it then, too!”

“You did not! And what the fuck is ‘saying it without saying it’.”

“It was in my actions.”

“The only action you had was when you said ‘hello’,” he gestured wildly, making air quotes with his hands. “to Angel by falling on his face and sucking wildly.”

“That was a peck! A simple peck!”

“Don’t ever do it again.”

She stopped walking. “Don’t tell me what to do! We are not a couple!”

“Oh yes we are!”

“We are?”

Spike raked a hand through his hair, swearing loudly. He grabbed her, yanking her toward him. She thought he was going to kiss her, instead he patted all the pockets of his coat until he found a pack of cigarettes. She snatched them before he could light one and tossed the pack away.

“If we’re a couple and you can suddenly tell me what to do, then I can too. You don’t smoke. I won’t date anyone who smokes.”

“I’m not asking you to date me. I’m telling you that this is it. You wanted me. You got me. Bad habits and all.” He retrieved the pack and stuck one into his mouth, only to have it snatched again by Buffy.

“I’ll go with you if you stop.”

“Shit!” Spike threw the pack over his shoulder and reached for her hand.

She took it and cringed. “Ouch. You really hurt my hand.”

“I did not. *You* hit me. Remember?”

“Are we going to do this all night?”

“Oh, I doubt we’ll talk much at all.”



Part Ten:


Dawn threw her purse towards the table in the condominium, but missed. Her belongings scattered all over the floor and she let loose a string of curses that caused Willow and Giles to blush. Xander merely clapped enthusiastically.

“Are you okay?” Willow asked, helping retrieve the items.

“No!” Dawn snapped, bursting into tears. “I used to defend him when Buffy would tell me he was a deadbeat dad. I mean, he’s the one who made us promise to do the traditional funeral again. The viewing, the piano, the stupid guestbook. He forced us to delay it when Buffy wanted to have it over and done with. No, Dad said to do it so people could come and now he says he won’t even be there tomorrow! We could have already been home!”

Xander helped her to her feet and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. I don’t much like the guy either.”

Someone knocked and Giles opened the door, hoping it would be Buffy. He was disappointed to find Angel on the other side. His interest was peaked, however, when he noticed several armed guards flanking him and more walking around in the parking lot. Giles stepped aside, allowing the vampire to enter and waited for the guards to do the same, but they merely nodded at him.

“I hate to keep dropping by unannounced, but I need to talk to you.” Angel said, then noticed Dawn’s tear stained face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dawn replied, drying her eyes. “Who were those men? What’s going on?”

“The demons that jumped Buffy went to a friend’s bar tonight. They were bragging about how they almost killed the Slayer. They were telling the other demons where Buffy is staying. It’s not safe for you here. I have a car waiting outside to take you to Wolfram and Hart.”

“What about Buffy?” Giles asked. “She’s not here.”

“Don’t worry. I just got a call from Wesley a few minutes ago. She’s already there.”

“Give us a few moments to gather our things,” Giles replied.

Angel caught Dawn’s arm before she left the room. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure. But do it while I pack. The last thing I want right now is to fight something that was strong enough to do that to Buffy.”

Angel studied her closely as she tossed her clothing into her bag, finally he sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About Buffy letting demons knock her around? No. About Buffy and Spike? No again. How about the weather?”

“Are you upset that Buffy and Spike are-”

Dawn shook her head. “She loves him. She’s loved him for a really long time and if that’s what it takes for her to smile and laugh and be happy again, that’s fine with me.”

“She was happy with him?”

“I guess. I mean, I don’t really know much about her relationship with him. She kept it a secret for a long time. I didn’t find out until after they broke up.”

“Shame does that to people.”

“She wasn’t ashamed of him. Not really. She was ashamed of her reasons for being with him. That’s all. Things were crazy when she came back from Heaven.”

Angel nodded, remembering the night he found out she was back. When he called, when he heard her voice and later that evening when he held her in his arms after thinking she was gone to him for good. “If I had known I would have helped her. No one told me, though.”

Dawn arched an eyebrow. “You won’t get sympathy from me, Bucko. YOU broke up with HER in case you forgot. Coming back from Heaven didn’t fuck with her nearly as much as that. Before Prom, too. I’ve never seen anyone cry so hard they threw up, but she did.”

He shook his head. “It almost killed me.”

“Some people would say almost doesn’t count, Angel.”

Angel stood. “Why are you pissed at me?”

Dawn slammed her suitcase shut and put her hands on her hips. “You talked to her all the time on the phone and in email. You couldn’t tell her he was back? You couldn’t give her just a little bit of something to be happy about?”

“I didn’t realize-”

“Don’t say you didn’t realize what they had because there is NO WAY Spike would have missed the chance to gloat about what happened.” She regarded him closely. “I’m not going to give you the gritty details about her life with him, Angel. Before he got his soul their relationship was abusive and ugly at times. Then other times he gave her exactly what she needed without question. He knows her better than she knows herself. After he tried to rape her he went a got a soul-”

“AFTER HE WHAT?” Angel yelled, his face morphing in rage.

Dawn realized too late that she had said too much. She stared at his blazing yellow eyes, remembering exactly what he was. “Forget it. She did!”

Angel stalked down the hallway, various ways to kill Spike rolling through his mind. He paused outside a door that was ajar, the scent of Buffy overpowering him. Her suitcase had never been unpacked. It sat on the end of her bed, open, with her clothing still folded neatly inside. It made him feel hollow, to see her things, to reach out and touch her shirt, her hairbrush, her nightgown.

He had given her up. Given her to a man who had tried to violate her, destroy her. And who had she become that she would let him and beg for more?

Dawn walked in behind him and watched him gingerly rearranging the clothing so the lid would shut. “Angel-”

“Don’t.”

“Just listen to me for a second, okay? That’s why he went and got his soul. I mean, that says something about him as a man, right? When you were Angelus ... all you thought about was killing her. Even without a soul, he knew deep down that he loved her enough to do whatever it took to be what she needed. That’s what he is right now. What she needs.”

“Can you get the rest of her things?”

“Yeah,” she replied in a small voice, still watching him.

She had a sinking feeling that she had said far too much.