“So what do you think? Do you think she’ll like it?” Dawn’s voice was a bit insecure, as she glanced uncertainly up at the face of the blonde vampire, who was staring into the open gift box on Dawn’s bed with barely disguised shock.

Dawn rarely got to see Spike anymore, and missed him terribly. So, when she had walked down the stairs to see him standing, a bit awkwardly, in the foyer, she had wasted no time in hustling him up to her room to show him her gift for her sister.

“I think she’ll love it, Bit,” Spike replied, his tone strangely non-committal and almost distracted as he reached to take the butter-soft, rich leather jacket from its box.

Dawn’s attempt to grasp the jacket away from his hands before he could touch it came just a moment or two too late, as he lifted the jacket and turned smoothly away from her, examining the rich garment closely. His eyes narrowed when he saw the security tag on the sleeve, and he gave Dawn a piercing look that made her look away.

“Yeah, Bit,” he said dryly. “Nothing says, ‘Happy Birthday, Sis – I’m turning into a bloody delinquent before your very eyes’ like stolen goods as birthday gifts.”

Dawn took the opportunity he provided by turning to face her to snatch the jacket from his hands, glancing anxiously toward the bedroom door as she urgently shushed him, smoothing the leather and carefully replacing it in the box before turning to face him again, eyes large, damp with unshed tears – the picture of broken innocence and vulnerability.

“I just wanted Buffy to have something nice for her birthday. Since – since Mom – we – we haven’t been able to – to afford…”

“No, Bit,” Spike said firmly, cutting her off – not about to buy the line of bull she was selling. “Don’t use your blessed mum’s memory to bloody guilt trip me…”

“Speaking of ‘bloody guilt’,” Dawn shot back without hesitation, her arms crossed defensively over her chest and her eyebrows raised in a challenge, “like *you* can talk, anyway! You’re the one who helped me break into the Magic Box last year!”

“That doesn’t count!” Spike objected hotly. “Last year, I was…” His words broke off suddenly as he realized that he wasn’t really sure how best to respond.

“Evil?” Dawn smirked, rolling her eyes to show her opinion of Spike’s old standby claim. “Oh, yeah, I forgot.”

Oh, yeah. He was evil. *Right*.

If he was evil then she was a smurf on crack.

“I’m *still* evil,” he insisted, grateful to grasp at the change of topic that allowed him to escape what was obviously a losing argument, at least for the moment.

Oh, he knew that he could have proven his point, given the right setting and enough time – or at the very least managed to scare the girl back onto the straight and narrow where her sister wanted her – on another night, when his mind was more clear.

When it was not utterly focused and consumed with thoughts of her older sister downstairs, whom he was *not* supposed to be thinking about like that! Not anymore!

Yeah. At a moment when he was not thinking of Buffy, he would have been able to win that argument.

*Right, then…Bit’s won this one,* he acknowledged with a weary sigh.

“Be careful, Bit,” he warned quietly, resignation in his voice. “Just don’t want to see you get into trouble.”

Outside on the front porch, unbeknownst to the pair talking in the upstairs bedroom, the vengeance demon Halfrek did her work.

“Anyway,” Spike added matter-of-factly with a little shrug. “I was going to say that I was too bloody pathetic last year to care *what* it was, so long as I could do something to convince myself that I wasn’t turning into the Slayer’s bloody lapdog. I was so bleedin’ consumed with her – had to prove to myself that I was still bad. If I couldn’t eat people, well – I’d just have to settle for a little breaking and entering with corrupting a minor on the side.”

Dawn laughed in surprise at his incredibly frank words, assuming that he was at least partially joking, not looking at him as she closed the gift box and headed toward the bedroom door – completely missing the look of horror on Spike’s face at his unintentional confession.

“Well, convince yourself you’re still bad, and don’t tell my sister how I got her present,” Dawn told him dubiously as they headed for the stairs. “If she says anything about the tag, I’ll just say they must have forgotten to take it off.”

“Right, Bit,” Spike replied distractedly, still puzzling over why he had said what he had. “Wouldn’t wanna get you in trouble – or ruin Buffy’s special day. But we *will* be talking about this later!”

“Right!” Dawn snorted as they neared the bottom of the stairs. She registered the sight of her sister heading toward them, in a clear path to meet them at the base of the stairs -- but somehow still could not seem to keep her mouth from blurting out what it was already headed toward saying.

“Like you care to talk to me at all anymore. You’re too busy screwing my sister!”

All three froze completely as their paths converged at the bottom of the stairs, staring at one another in shock.

Spike could not believe that Dawn had just said that to him.

Neither could Dawn.

“Actually, no he’s not, unfortunately,” Buffy replied flatly, not seeming overly perturbed by her sister’s words. “Not for weeks, now, in fact. Which kinda sucks.”

Dawn stared at her sister, aghast at her words.

Of course, Buffy had not really said anything that Dawn had not already known. Buffy had made it perfectly clear to her sister and her friends that, due to something *she* had done – which she had thankfully not gone into detail about – Spike had broken things off with her, weeks ago…and she was not very happy about it, in fact was desperately trying to win him back.

Still…somehow, hearing it…

“Buffy, please! Hearing you say that is just – disturbing. You were sleeping with Spike – now you’re not – you hate it. Got that. Could do without the visual,” Dawn informed her flatly, adding not quite under her breath, “It’s weird enough my sister being with someone I used to crush on, and *still* think is incredibly hot…”

Suddenly her eyes grew wide and panicked, disbelieving at what she had just said, as she looked frantically at Spike to gauge his reaction to the words she had not intended or meant to say.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, thrusting the package in her hands into Spike’s hands and turning to go immediately back up the stairs.

Just at that moment, a commotion was heard heading toward them, and a moment later Anya appeared around the corner from the kitchen, stalking furiously toward the door, Xander following close behind her.

“But, Ahn…I didn’t mean it like that! Haven’t *you* ever wondered?” he asked her in a pleading voice, taking her arm and turning her around. “I mean – it’s pretty scary thinking that our kids could turn out half demon or something…and how permanent is this whole human thing for you, anyway? Do we really *know*?”

“Why should it matter?" Anya demanded, her voice higher than usual with the pain his words had caused her.

"You know what’s ‘pretty scary’, Xander Harris?” she shot back, green eyes narrowed and blazing as she jerked her arm out of his grip and placed her hand on the doorknob, pausing only to answer her own question, “Knowing that I’m about to promise to spend the rest of my life with someone with the emotional maturity of a six-year-old, and that I’m not gonna *live* another thousand years to give him time to grow up to my level!”

With that, she stormed out.

Xander stood there for a moment, jaw dropped in shock at her words, his anger visibly rising as he suddenly followed after her, yelling across the lawn, “Oh, yeah? Well you know what *else* is scary about you, Anya…?”

The slamming door hid the rest of his words from Spike and Buffy, who just stood where they had stopped at the staircase, staring at the door where her friends had just been.

Then Buffy shook herself out of her shock and headed for the door, alarm in her eyes. This could not be happening -- not to Xander and Anya. Their relationship was the light at the end of her tunnel -- the one that made it clear that love *could* survive, no matter what.

"You guys," she said urgently when she stepped out onto the lawn to see them standing facing each other in a furious staredown of sorts. "Calm down for a minute..."

Neither of them even seemed aware she was there.

"You make me feel so incredibly stupid all the time, Xander," Anya was declaring in a voice of raw anger and hurt. "You're always putting me down -- hushing me -- telling me '*humans* do it this way' or 'that way' -- if you don't want to be with *me*, Xander, then find some perfect little human girl who's a thousand years younger than me and has been human all her life!"

She paused, before added with an anguished glimmer of tears in her eyes, "Except don't! Because I love you and it would hurt and I'd miss you too much! Just -- just why can't you just -- love me for *me*?"

"Because you're not *normal*, Anya!" Xander snapped, his eyes widening in shock at his own words as Anya flinched in hurt. "I'm so freaked out because I don't know *what* you're gonna say or do to embarrass me next, and I don't know if I can live up to what you want after a thousand years, and I just don't know if this is gonna last!"

Anya stared at him, wide-eyed with hurt, speechless.

And that said a lot in itself.

Xander's voice was softer, but sad, and still tinged with that stunned note of disbelief that he was even saying these things out loud. "I don't know if I can love you like you deserve -- because I don't know if I can *love*, period, Anya! I'm just like my father -- everyone but him's always said it -- and someday I'm just gonna end up hurting you like he hurt Mom!"

There was complete, stunned silence for a moment as they all took that in -- and suddenly, both Buffy and Spike felt as if they were intruding on a very private moment.

Except that -- it *wasn't* private. It was out in the open for everyone to see and hear.

“Something is seriously wrong, here, Slayer,” Spike said in a low, calm voice that was still weighted with an ominous note.

“You’re telling me…” Buffy said softly, still staring at the terrible little scene, her mind racing as she tried to process what was happening. “Is it just me or is everybody being a little – well…”

“Brutally honest to the point of self-humiliation?” Spike finished for her. “Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Truth spell?” she guessed.

“Red.” He nodded grimly.

Together the vampire and the Slayer headed back into the house and toward the kitchen, where Buffy had last seen Willow, sitting at the counter with Tara and shyly making small talk with her former lover, who had fortunately seemed every bit as happy to see Willow as Willow was to see her.

They made it as far as the stairs before Dawn stopped them, apparently recovered from her humiliation.

"Can we do presents now?" she asked too brightly.

Buffy's eyebrows raised in a concerned, skeptical question. "You're okay?"

"Well, no," Dawn shrugged matter-of-factly. "But I figure presents are distracting and I'm getting so nervous that you're gonna find out where I got your present that I just want it to be over with."

That was even *more* confusing to the Slayer, who frowned. "Where did you get it?"

"Ammmphh..." Dawn covered her own mouth and headed back up the stairs, stopped by Buffy's hand that caught her arm and whirled her around.

Even as she pulled her sister back onto the main floor, Buffy looked at Spike and repeated her question, "Where did she get it?"

"Nicked it from Barney's," he replied immediately.

Dawn let out a frustrated little sound that was almost like a growl before she snapped in anger and disbelief, "Spike!"

"Well, I couldn't help it, Bit -- I *really* couldn't help it," he clarified pointedly, alarm in his eyes.

Suddenly, a very frightening thought occurred to Slayer and vampire alike, who exchanged a look of alarm.

"We've gotta get this spell off," Buffy declared to him, before glaring at her little sister. "This is not over. We just have to figure out whatever's making everybody tell their deepest darkest secrets and stop it..."

"And other people's too," Dawn muttered. Then, her eyes widened as something clicked in her head. "Wait a second -- Buffy..."

"No time, Dawnie," Buffy snapped, angry and scared at the realization that her sister had been shoplifting, but wanting to get whatever dark magic her friend had done this time out of the house before she handle it. "We'll talk later. Go to your room," she instructed as she released the girl and headed for the kitchen.

"But Buffy..."

"*Now*!" Buffy nearly yelled, turning to face her sister again with eyes blazing with fury.

"Fine!" Dawn snapped in tearful frustration. "I hope you humiliate yourself! I hope you say so many stupid embarrassing things you can never show your ugly stupid face again!"

Buffy did what she always did when Dawn went into brat-kid-sister mode.

She ignored her.

Spike and Buffy entered the kitchen just in time to hear Willow say with a strange calm, matter-of-factness – not overly emotional, just stating a truth that she ordinarily would never have spoken aloud,

“Sometimes I miss you so much I think I’m gonna die. I need you so much, Tara – Baby, I just need you so much…”

Buffy stopped in the doorway, hesitant to go on, a part of her not wanting to interrupt the scene, although she knew that it was a magically created scene, and that Willow was most likely the one who had created it. That same part of her cringed slightly, expecting Tara’s usual rebuff to Willow’s usually-more-tentative advances.

What the blonde witch actually said startled her.

“Me, too, Willow – me, too,” Tara whispered, an aching hurt in her soft grey eyes. “But I’m just so scared that if I give myself to you again – you’re just gonna try and change me again the next time something doesn't go your way. Your need to control everything around you just terrifies me, Will. I’m afraid to trust myself to you just to have you change it to suit you and – and eventually change so much that you lose *me* in the process…do you understand?”

Willow nodded, tears in her eyes, shining with her regret and sorrow over all she had lost.

“That's just it, Tara. I just – I’m just so scared that I’m gonna lose you. That’s why – why I…I just…I never had -- *any* of this, growing up…friendship…love…confidence…all the things you’ve given me…and I’m so scared of losing it…I was just trying to hold onto you, Tara…”

“It was trying to hold on to me that made you *lose* me, Willow,” Tara pointed out softly, her hand crossing the island between them to rest on the redhead’s trembling hand.

There was a moment’s silence before Willow asked in a trembling whisper, “*Have* I lost you?”

Tara was silent for a long moment, and Buffy knew that had she been in control at the moment, not forced to utter the truth by whatever magic was affecting them all, she would have been a bit more evasive – not made herself so open and vulnerable.

As it was, the timid blonde simply shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. “No,” she whispered.

Buffy stood frozen in the doorway, Spike at her side – neither of them willing to interrupt the scene playing out before them – because whatever was causing the utter honesty that was occurring, what was being said was *true*, and real – and probably needed to be said.

*Maybe this whole thing isn’t *all* bad,* Buffy thought wistfully.

Suddenly, her eyes widened with realization, and she looked up at Spike with dawning inspiration. He was steeling himself to interrupt the tearful reunion gearing up in the kitchen, though he was clearly reluctant to do so.

Buffy took him by surprise when she grabbed his arm and pulled him with her back out of the kitchen doorway and into the relative privacy of the hall.

“Buffy – what…?” he objected, slight irritation in his voice as he pulled his arm out of her hand.

“Spike,” she interrupted, her voice intense and earnest as she met his eyes, “whatever this is – whatever’s happening – it’s making everybody tell the truth – how they really feel – what they really think, even if it’s embarrassing or hurtful or makes them vulnerable to say it…right?”

“Right,” he replied slowly, hesitant to go along with her, glancing back toward the kitchen. “But it’s bloody dangerous, pet. We need to…”

“I love you.”

Spike stopped immediately, doing a bit of a double take, his eyes widening as he focused on her, his lips parting in shock. In spite of his defenses, in spite of the fact that he did not want to soften to the feelings he could not deny for her, he felt a lump rising in his throat, a dull ache in his chest – and had to look away.

“Buffy,” he whispered in a voice of gentle reproof, aching with hurt and uncertainty, shaking his head. “You can’t…we have to…”

“Spike,” she interrupted softly. “Please…I can’t lie to you right now, so whatever I say, you know I’m saying it because I mean it…I…*love*…you.”

Spike did not move, did not respond for a long moment, as the two of them stood there in silence, trapped by his indecision. Suddenly, Buffy watched as his jaw set with determination, and he looked up at her with something akin to defiance in his challenging eyes, as a soft but piercing question left his lips.

“Why did you do it?”

Buffy could not hold his gaze, alarm rising up in her, a sick feeling in her stomach at the knowledge that she would not be able to withhold the truth from him -- and that was why he had chosen this moment to ask her.

But then – did she really *want* to hide the truth, anymore? No matter how painful it was?

No. Not from him.

“You can’t tell me it was for my own good,” he went on softly. “What you did hurt me more than anything anyone’s ever done to me, Buffy, bloody well broke me – and you had to know that it would. I’ve loved you for so long – you’ve been my whole bloody world – can’t live without you and you knew it. So don’t say it was for me, because I know better.”

He winced slightly, and she knew that he had not wanted to say so much.

At least perhaps his own involuntary honesty would serve to make her own that much more convincing to him.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” Buffy reminded him softly, raising uncertain, vulnerable eyes to his, full of a deep remorse for the pain she had caused him, as she opened her mouth again, taking a deep breath, pausing as she tried to put the swirling thoughts in her head into words.

She needn’t have bothered; the words pretty much came pouring out on their own.

“It wasn’t for you. It was for me,” she admitted quietly. "I was so scared, Spike. So -- *terrified*. I came back so messed up, I hated myself and everyone around me -- and I was so mad at you -- I *wanted* to hate you, for -- for loving me, when I couldn't love myself. Except -- I *couldn't* hate you," she said in a soft voice, barely over a whisper, her tearful eyes focused on the floor at his feet. "Not ever."

“I needed you, loved you so much -- being with you was the only time I ever felt anything but miserable, and I was starting to think that if I *had* to be living in this world again, there was no way I could live without *you* --but I was scared too. I was too afraid of what everyone would think of me – what loving you would make me – but I wasn’t strong enough to end it myself. So I tried to make you do it.”

She was silent for a moment, and he knew instinctively that she was fighting whatever it was that was making her pour her heart out so freely – but she lost the battle.

“It was wrong – but I thought that I could somehow prove to us both that what I was feeling for you wasn’t real – that what you felt for *me* wasn’t real – and get past it…except….it *is* real. It’s – it’s *everything* to me, Spike – and I just…I just can’t…I wanted to…to end it…but now, I’ve – I’ve done it, and – and all I want is to…”

Buffy paused, swallowing back a sob that rose in her throat, trying to regain control, before she finally echoed the words her friend had spoken in the kitchen a few moments before.

“Have I lost you, Spike?”

The words came out in an aching, terrified, breathless whisper, saying without words that if his answer was yes, it would devastate her completely.

He wanted to say yes.

He wanted to tell her that she could not treat him the way she had, ever again – he would not allow it. He deserved more – better – he could and would find it, without her. There was no room for that kind of a risk in his life anymore; his heart simply couldn’t take it.

But the truth was – his heart couldn’t take being without her.

Against his will, the truth came out in a whisper, accompanied by a slow, simple shake of his head.

“Never. Couldn't. I'll *always* love you, Buffy -- always.”

A moment of still, stunned silence followed his heartfelt, tender confession, while both of them took in the powerful impact of what he had said.

And then, the Slayer broke down.

Tears of relief, sorrow, happiness and shame, myriad mingled emotions poured from her eyes as she moved forward instinctively to put her arms around him, forgetful of the rules he had set in place for the cautious advancement of their relationship-that-wasn’t.

The powerful wave of emotion that swept over him at her long-missed, tender touch was almost too much for the vampire to bear. He wanted it so badly – needed her, desperately – and yet…

He was terrified.

He knew that she was telling the truth – knew that the spell would not allow her to lie at the moment – and still, there was a part of him insisting with alarm that this was dangerous, emotionally deadly, trusting himself to her arms once more.

He could not do it.

Gently, but firmly he set her off of him, pushing her back and stumbling past her toward the front door.

He couldn’t do this.

He had to – to not be there.

“Spike?” she whispered, confusion and hurt in her voice as she turned to face him, but did not follow him.

If she had learned anything, it was to respect his boundaries – his right to *not* have her touch him.

“I can’t, Buffy…I can’t,” he told her in a voice that trembled with unshed tears, pausing at the door for a moment, the handle in his hand, as he shook his head with sorrowful resignation.

And in the next moment, he had disappeared into the night.