Three months passed, and gradually, the Scoobies began to adjust to the tragic events that had played out among them, taking one of their number from them forever, and leaving them irreparably changed.

With Spike’s help, Xander began to adjust to his new existence as a vampire. They had managed to return his soul to him before he did much damage. The only crime he had committed was the torture of Spike, encouraged and enforced by his sire – and being a vampire himself, Spike recovered rather quickly, so it was not all that great of a burden on his newly restored conscience.

Spike quickly discovered the best places to find bagged blood, and shared that knowledge with the fledgling Xander, whom he had taken under his wing, serving as a surrogate sire, in place of the one he had lost.

Xander missed her most, perhaps, having known her the longest, but Spike quickly became his best friend, and having a lot of experience with death himself, especially of late, Spike was able to help him with that as well. Giles was a bit quieter, withdrawn, following the loss of the girl who had begun to feel like a daughter to him, and Jenny mourned her young protégé as well, but they had each other to help to ease the pain of loss.

Of course they all grieved for Willow, would probably always grieve for her to a certain extent – but slowly, over time, they began to fall back into the normal patterns of life.

All except Buffy.

She threw herself fully into her slaying, consumed by the anticipation of the kill, seeking out the moment of release, when she could do it right, and for just one instant, forgive herself for the fatal mistake she had made in trusting Angel, the mistake that had cost her best friend her life.

Of course – that elusive instant never lasted long enough.

Almost every night, Spike helped her with patrol, claiming that he needed a spot of violence to stave off the boredom that came with his new no-killing-humans rule. In reality, he was too afraid to let her patrol alone. Buffy had not been herself since losing Willow, not even close, and he was afraid that, left to her own devices, she would do something stupid and reckless and get herself killed.

And that was not something that Spike would be able to live with – not anymore.

He was completely, thoroughly, hopelessly in love with her.

She rarely said much while they patrolled, preferring to focus her attention on the work of slaying, and Spike did not try to push her to talk. Honestly, he was more than a little afraid that if he tried to press her to open up about what was bothering her, he would end up at the end of her rather eager stake. No, it was enough for him just to be allowed to watch her back, to keep her safe. Someone had to, when she seemed to have such utter disregard for her own safety. Her guilt and sorrow over Willow’s death left her hardly caring if the night’s patrol left her alive or dead.

But Spike cared.

And much to his relief, finally, one night, her fragile shell shattered around her – and he was there to pick up the pieces.

There was a fierce fight in Restfield Cemetery, with a gang of about a dozen large, rather skilled vampires. Spike and Buffy both had to exert all of their efforts just to hold their ground, as the vampires came at them, and just kept coming.

They were down to two. Although he was exhausted, Spike kept fighting valiantly, aware that Buffy was just as tired as he was. If the one he was fighting managed to get him down and go after Buffy, he knew that she would not be able to take on both, not at this point.

He finally managed to get in the killing blow, knocking the vampire back against a headstone and plunging his stake through the heart of his foe before he could move. Breathing heavily in an old reflex response to the exertion, Spike turned to check on Buffy and saw that she had already subdued her foe, holding him pinned to the ground on his stomach with one tiny boot pressed against the back of his neck, her stake held ready in her hand.

She stood, frozen to the spot, just staring down at the struggling, snarling vampire.

And that was when Spike remembered, and understood.

He had been barely conscious when Willow had died, but he still remembered this particular pose. As they had carried him out, he had glanced over at Buffy, hoping to reassure himself that she was winning – and she had been. She had Willow pinned to the ground in exactly the same fashion as she now held this much less familiar foe.

Only this time, she seemed unable to land the killing blow.

Spike slowly approached her, studying her face with concern, watching carefully for any sign that she might be about to do something sudden. When he came within a few feet of her, he noticed with dismay that her face was streaked with tears as she stared down at the vampire that should have already been dust. She had been transported back to a different time and place, lost in a memory, and desperate to do something differently.

But it was already done.

Silently, wanting only to break her out of her painful reverie, Spike brought his own stake down, dropping to a crouch as he plunged it downward, straight into the heart of the writhing vampire at Buffy’s feet. As the monster disintegrated into dust, Buffy’s foot came down heavily, and she stumbled a step or two.

Spike started to rise to his feet, but before he could stand, Buffy was upon him, throwing him to the ground on his back, pulling him up, and slamming him down again hard, glaring into his eyes with tearful fury.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snarled.

“What I wish I’d done months ago,” Spike whispered, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting her furious gaze, his own blue eyes soft with compassion for her. “Wish I could have spared you, love…wish I could have…”

“Shut up!” Buffy’s voice was high-pitched, almost panicked, as she shook him again. “It was my job! It’s what I was supposed to do! I had no choice!”

“That’s right, love…that’s all true,” Spike assured her, his voice soft and soothing. “You had to do it…”

“I had to…I had to…” Buffy was sobbing now, her head lowered as her hands fisted in his shirt went slack. “I had to k-kill her, because…because I didn’t save her! I could have saved her! I could have listened when she told me about A-Angel, and…and I could have saved her! She’s dead…because of me!”

Cautiously, Spike raised his hands to rest on her back, running gently up and down in a comforting gesture. “It’s all right, love,” he murmured, soothing her. “You couldn’t have known. Wasn’t your fault. It’s all right.”

She collapsed against him, overwhelmed by her grief and guilt, the situation she had found herself in that night, so physically similar to the events of Willow’s death, drawing her pent-up, self-directed anger and pain to the surface and causing them to overflow. Her shoulders shook with sobs as she buried her face in the red fabric of Spike’s shirt, worn soft from much use.

Carefully, Spike wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, at the same time shifting up into a sitting position, bracing his back against the headstone behind him, so that he would be able to see any approaching threat before it was upon them. Even as he did, he kept whispering to her, gently shushing her, holding her close and comforting her.

After a long while, the Slayer’s sobs subsided, and she looked up at him, apology in her eyes before it was on her lips.

“I hurt you,” she whispered.

Spike shook his head, giving her a warm, reassuring smile. “No, you didn’t, love. Barely touched me…”

“Yes, I did,” Buffy insisted, nodding, her eyes wide with guilty realization. “Or I mean…I will…and I did…and…and I probably will again.” She sighed, lowering her gaze in defeat. “I…I’m not sure I know what I mean.”

Spike laughed gently, running his fingers through her disheveled blonde hair, pushing it back behind her ear, out of her face. He understood perfectly what she was talking about.

“Those things I saw, Buffy – you aren’t going to do them now. They don’t matter anymore. And the things you did before, well…I was lying and scheming against you at the time, so I s’pose we’re even, yeah? As for the things you might do, later on down the road? Well, I might do some things, too. Nobody’s perfect, love, soul or no soul. Can’t rightly expect yourself to be, now, can you?”

Buffy shook her head slowly, still not appearing completely convinced. She slowly raised her eyes to his – and they widened in stunned recognition at what she saw there, the warmth of love and affection that she already knew he held for her, but had been doing her best to ignore these last few months following Willow’s death.

Now, lying here on the ground, in his arms, his heart and soul an open book before her – it was impossible to ignore any longer.

“Forgive me?” she whispered, a pleading note in the two simple words, as her eyes drifted between his eyes and his lips, slightly parted.

“Always,” Spike replied without hesitation, his eyes following her gaze.

Buffy leaned in closer, almost without meaning to, before looking up at him, troubled. “What if…what if we mess it up?” she whispered fearfully. “What if we make the same mistakes you saw…?”

“We won’t,” Spike assured her firmly. “That future…well, it’s in the past. Never gonna happen now.” He paused, a soft, ironic smile playing over his lips, lighting up his eyes. “We’re free to make a new one, then, aren’t we, love?”

Buffy hesitated, uncertain, before slowly returning his smile. “I…I guess we are,” she whispered.

“Can’t know what’s gonna happen,” Spike shrugged. “But I know I love you…and I know this…this thing between us…’s too bloody amazing to just let it go without trying.”

Buffy’s smile widened, the tension in her shoulders relaxing some as she leaned in closer, her lips barely an inch from his.

“That’s all we can do,” she whispered, nodding slowly, “is try.”

Spike raised his head just slightly, closing the distance between them and covering her mouth with his, drawing her in closer when he felt her respond to his kiss.

They had been through so much together, as enemies, and then as friends, and now – as something more. Neither had any idea what would eventually be the fate of the new, fragile relationship they were beginning – but both knew that it was worth the effort to give it a try.

After all the pain, all the suffering and loss – the Slayer and her vampire embarked upon a new start, that night in the cemetery. The future was uncertain, but they had the present, and they were determined to make it theirs.

Starting over had never felt so good.