"Well," he said when he could speak again, "that was fun."

He felt Buffy go rigid behind him. "Fun?" she squeaked. "You call that – is this some vampire thing?"

"No," Spike huffed a tired chuckle. "It's a sarcasm thing. Thought you'd recognize it."

"Oh." Felt her shift, setting the knife to one side. "Sorry."

"No worries, love," he said. "You ready for that break yet?"

"God," said Buffy. "You mean you're not?"

"I could pause, yeah," he said. Still leaned against her a little. She was warm. It was soothing. Also he loved her and she loved him and wasn't that a surprise that would take a while to really sink in. "One emotionally harrowing conversation, as promised."

"You didn't promise," she said. Warm breath down his neck, still uncomfortable like ants on his skin. "It was your idea."

Spike sat up a bit, tried to turn and face her. "Thought I owed you something," he said softly. "After being gone like that. I didn't know, love. I really thought –"

She put a finger to his lips and he kissed it, unable to stop himself even if he wanted to. "We covered that part already," she said. "And it's okay. I understand."

"Do you?" he murmured. Hated the pleading tone in his voice, but he couldn't stop that either.

"We were both thinking basically the same thing," she said, "or at least I was once I learned you hadn't been dead this whole time." She chewed her lip for a second, wrapped her arms around his waist. "Why don't you tell me how that happened – how did you survive that?" Felt her go stiff against him again. "You have to know, if we had known that you made it, we would never have just left you there. I wouldn't have let them. You know that, right?"

"Shh, love, I know," he said. "And as for how I survived – I didn't. Dusted right and proper, burnt up by the sun, there at the Hellmouth." He shivered a little, said, "I can still remember what it felt like."

"God, I'm sorry," said Buffy. "Angel warned me – he said they didn't know what the amulet did. I should have pressed him for more information, but…" She rested her forehead on his shoulder. "He's dead now, isn't he?"

"Yeah," said Spike. "Yeah, he is. I'm sorry. I know you… I know I can't take his place…"

"Spike, stop," she said. "You're not taking anybody's place. You're not some kind of… of substitute for Angel. I don't know any other way to say it than that."

"You loved him," said Spike. "Don't tell me you didn't."

"No," said Buffy. "No, I loved him, but… he was my first love, though. I… I outgrew him. Even if I didn't realize it right away." She leaned out to catch his eye. "Did you ever have a first love?" she asked. "When you were alive?"

Spike smiled. "Cecily," he said. "We never would've… it would never have worked… but yeah. Her name was Cecily and I was madly in love with her. Or… I thought I was. Looking back now…"

"It's like that," she said. "Looking back now… I don't know if I would have stayed with him much past a year or two – even without a curse to worry about. But when I was sixteen? Yeah, I thought he was the dreamiest." She laughed sadly. "So yes. If you're asking – yes, I'm sad he's gone. And I'll miss him. We were… friends, I guess? But you're not replacing him." She kissed his shoulder, and he shivered again. "There's no way the two of you could ever substitute for one another. You're too different."

"Load off my mind, there, sweetheart," said Spike. He sighed, looking at the marks on his hands. "Sometimes it feels as if I've spent my entire existence as a vampire collecting Angelus' leftovers," he said. "The ones he was finished with. Even Drusilla was never completely mine, did you know that?" He turned he hands over, looked at the backs of them, unmarred except for the gauze at his wrists. "She was always obsessed with her daddy, as she called him." Paused again. Said, his voice barely audible, "I loved her for a century and she was never really mine."

"I'm sorry," said Buffy. "Um. I have no idea what else to say to that," she admitted. "Can I ask you how you came back, instead?" She ran fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and he felt the tremor run down his spine at her touch. "Where – do you remember where you went? How long you were there?"

"No," he said. "No, as far as I knew, no time passed at all between… between dying and coming back. It was all the same moment, from my end. What we figured out later was, I ended up stuck inside the amulet itself. And then someone dug it out of the ruins – they tell me Sunnydale is a great bloody crater now?" At her nod, he went on, "They dug it up, and mailed it to Wolfram & Hart, and when Angel opened the envelope, out I popped. Only without a body. Something like a ghost, only not."

"Weird," said Buffy.

"Very weird," said Spike. "And then one day someone mailed me a package, which I couldn't open – I was walking through walls and all that, couldn't touch anything – and when Harmony opened it for me there was a flash and I was solid again. No idea how that worked."

"Wait. Harmony?" she asked.

"Angel's secretary," grinned Spike. "And terrible at it, too." His grin faded. "Or at least, she was. I don't know what happened to her, after… Anyway, after that came the gigantic snow job that kept Spike in Los Angeles, and a bunch of other adventures that mostly went pear-shaped whenever they involved me."

"So why did you stay?" asked Buffy. "If it wasn't going well for you."

He looked at his hands again, shifted on the cot. "Didn't have anywhere else to go," he said softly. "And they… told me what I wanted to hear. Or told me what they knew I'd believe," he corrected himself, voice bitter. "I admit it – they played me. Manipulated me no end, till I didn't know what purpose I had anymore. Nor my own arse from a hole in the ground, I imagine."

Buffy stroked the line of his shoulder, said nothing. Waited.

Spike sighed. "See – when I didn't have a body, I tried again and again to go to you and couldn't – kept getting yanked back to the law offices of evil. Then by the time I was solid again, I was so messed about in the head that I really believed you were better off without me. And there was supposed to be this prophecy, all to do with a Vampire With A Soul," he waved his hand, as if the letters were spelled out in lights on a marquee, "and no one knew if it meant Angel or me – probably it was a hoax all along and they were snowing Angel too."

He sighed again. "Either way. My being there threw a spanner in the works for Angel and his people, and he had enemies who would take whatever chances they could get to mess him about, and I fit in perfectly with their plans. So they got to me." God, even a year later it still left a foul taste in his mouth to know how easily he'd been fooled. "I made a perfect pawn and they used me like one."

Behind him, Buffy sighed too. "Sounds like my thing with Giles," she said. "The manipulating part, anyway."

"Maybe, yeah," he said. There was a story he wanted to hear more about, but…

"But you have a body now," she said, "and we need to fix it. And I'm still new to this whole emotions and talking thing, so – has this been enough harrowing and stuff for you?"

He smiled.

Buffy leaned out again so he could see her. "Ready to do the next part?" she asked. Voice all nervous and tentative.

Spike nodded, winced as the motion jarred his injured head. "Yeah, love," he said. "Yeah, let's get on with it."

---

Buffy took another breath and let it out slowly, noticed Spike shiver as her breath played across his back. "Okay", she said, "what the heck was going on with that first set of marks? You said something about water – I take it you're not thirsty?"

"Right," said Spike. "The four magic elements. Earth, air, fire, water. And Figg connected the soul in with the water part."

"Okay, so the element had something to do with you," she shuddered, "with the way you reacted, just now?"

"That's right," he said, "water is about, oh, dreams and subconscious stuff. Intuition. I guess it's about perception, too, because when Figg did it, he put the cord over my eyes and I lost everything, sight and sound and smell. When you took it off…"

"All that came back," Buffy guessed.

"Got it in one," said Spike. "Only, just now when you took the marks off, I thought I could already see and hear and all that just fine, so when they came back again, all hitting at once like that was too much. I got – no laughing, now – I got too sensitive for a bit."

Buffy smiled. Of course he'd worry about not looking manly enough for her, or something stupid like that. "Are you sure you're better now?" she asked. Moved to the camp chair again, now that he could sit up on his own.

Spike shifted his shoulders a bit, not quite a shrug. "It's not as… intense as it was," he said after a moment. "Everything is still sharper, yeah, but I'm getting used to it again."

"Okay," said Buffy, "what element comes next and what should we look for this time?"

"Fire," said Spike. Drew a line with his fingertip along the marks that were scrawled on his body, from throat to… well, to some point hidden beneath the blanket and she could probably guess exactly how far down they actually went.

"And Figg put the demon in with that, too," he went on. "As for what may happen… fire is about creating and destroying, about change… but I guess in a person it's mostly about appetites. What you want. What you desire. You want something badly enough, you create it, or you destroy or change something else to get it."

Buffy thought about it for a minute. "So… what," she said, "we should have lots of blood ready to go for you?"

Spike smiled at her – a smile she hadn't seen in close to two years. The last time they'd slept together. "Or lots of something else," he suggested, looking her up and down.

She turned her head away for a second so he wouldn't see the way her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "Um…" she started. "Should we…" but no, that wouldn't work either. She looked around for the belts they'd used on him before, but it looked like Xander had put them away once he was sure Spike wasn't going to vamp out on them again.

Great.

"Spike, I –"

"Slayer," he said fondly. "You already know what my demon wants, and you've already seen me when I wanted it mo– oh." His eyes widened, and he looked tortured. Horrified. "Oh," he said again. "You think I might – that I could –" he swallowed hard. "Buffy, do you think we should pin me back down?"

Oh, God. She'd been thinking of him vamping out and losing control of his hunger – she hadn't thought of the other possibility. Her mind flashed back to that awful night in the bathroom when everything had gone so tragically wrong. Flashed again to a basement not long after that, where Spike, mindlessly killing under the First's influence, had somehow stopped himself from attacking and draining her.

She ducked her head, fighting back yet another round of tears. She was getting thoroughly sick of the damn tears.

Made up her mind.

"No, Spike," she said softly. "I – you said… that night, you said trust was for 'old marrieds'," she said. "And once before that, you asked me if I trusted you and I said never." She looked up at him, at his eyes, so haunted by what he'd almost done. "We were both wrong," she said, putting her hand on his. "Love – for me anyway – if I didn't trust you I don't think I'd be able to love you. And I was wrong to say I'd never trust you, because I do."

He looked away from her quickly, and she had the feeling it was his turn to hide tears from her.

"You should probably still lay back down, though," she said. "I mean… if you're worried… that'll make it harder, since it's kind of a pain for you to get up and down on your own. Right now." She shrugged. "And either way it'll be easier for me if I have a straight line to – to cut along."

"Buffy, are you sure about this?" he asked. Laid himself down on the cot, every movement painful and slow.

"You stopped yourself from attacking me that night, Spike," said Buffy.

"After you knocked me into a wall!" said Spike, stricken. He started to tremble. Ducked away from her when she reached for his face.

"I only had to push you away once," she said. "You could have come at me again, and you didn't. And that was before you had a soul. After that? Even the First couldn't make you hurt me." She reached out again, and this time he held still, frozen in place and shaking as she stroked his cheek with her hands. "I trust you, Spike."

"Oh, God, Buffy," he breathed, eyes closing, overwhelmed. Nuzzled into her hand. "I don't deserve you."

"Too bad," said Buffy, "'cause you're stuck with me." Surprised, he let out another little huff of laughter, and while he was distracted she drew the blade down his body in one long, smooth stroke. Flipped the blanket back to expose him. The sigils went all the way to the top of his pelvic bone, stopping right at the hairline just above his cock.

Spike rolled his head back and let out a shout that turned into a roar as his demon came forward. Along with his usual game face and golden eyes, she was surprised to see the tips of his fingers crook and the nails lengthen into talons – she'd only seen that once before, in her dream with Drusilla, under the rubble of Figg's collapsing shed. Spike curled his claws into the edges of the cot, snagging the fabric as he roared again, the sound dying away to an angry rumble, deep enough she could feel it vibrating in her own chest. He looked at her, and his lip curled in a leer, one fang glistening as his tongue curled up and around. Bent one knee and started to lean forward, and she saw that he was already growing hard, his cock twitching as she glanced down and away.

Okay, that was a little unnerving.

But he didn't lunge for her. Didn't bare his fangs and snarl. Just sat up, slowly, eyes locked on hers and glowing as they caught the light.

"I can hear your heart, love," said Spike. Voice deeper than she remembered it, the way it sounded when they were in bed. Seductive. Wanton. "How it pounds for me… makes me think of the other times I've heard you like that. That pounding. The beating. The blood roaring in your veins. For me. Because of me."

He leaned in and Buffy froze as he nuzzled her ear, sniffed at her hair. "Do you know how long it's been for me, pet?" he asked her, voice soft and deep in her ear. "How long since I've had any kind of a shag at all? I've only had it once in the past year – had to make do with Harmony and she tried to eat me. I know you've at least had the Immortal… saw you, in Rome. Saw the way you danced. Your ass." One taloned hand came up, drew slowly down the front of her shirt. Needle sharp claws scraping along her skin through the fabric. "Your breasts. I love the way you dance. Even when it was for him, I loved watching you."

Buffy swallowed, didn't move. He started licking the side of her neck, little flicks of his tongue, tasting, teasing, and her eyes drifted shut. She took a shaky breath, said, "I never slept with the Immortal."

"No?" He tasted the hollow of her throat, brought his other hand up to move her shirt out of the way, licked and nibbled along her collarbone. The pinpricks of his fangs, so close to her throat… she swallowed harder when he spoke again. God, his voice. "The two of you never fucked?" he asked. Purred, really. "I saw the way you danced… you never spread your luscious thighs for him? Never let him taste you the way I have?" The hand at her front slid lower. Clawed fingertips dipped into the waistband of her jeans, scratching along just below her navel.

Buffy had to stop this. Didn't want to. She turned her head inward, moving his mouth away from her collarbone. It put her own mouth right by his ear when she said, "I didn't want to be just another notch in his bedpost."

His whole body shuddered in reaction, a reaction she knew and hadn't realized how much she'd missed. He changed form slowly as his golden eyes rolled back in his head, the talons on his hands the first to go. He nuzzled behind her ear again, and she actually felt the ridges of his face draw back and shift, felt his fangs retract and convert back to human as he nibbled the edge of her ear, the sensation going from pinpricks and tingles to blunt and gentle, tender.

"God, Buffy," he whispered, "want you so much." Rested his forehead on her shoulder. Dragged the blanket up to cover his lap. "'M sorry. Can't stop wanting you."

"It's okay," she murmured. "It's mutual." His head came up in surprise, blue eyes searching hers in wonder. "It is," she said, "just… not right now. Okay?"

Watched as Spike swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, taking a breath and letting it out with another shiver and a little wince. He straightened, put a hand to his ribs. "No, not now," he said after a moment. "Buffy? You're –"

"I'm sure," she said. "I'm done holding myself apart from you over stupid things like, like wondering what other people will think. The Scoobies." She looked down for a second, met his eyes again. "I thought you were dead, Spike. Now that I've got you back?" She shook her head. "Told you. You're stuck with me. I guess that means all of me."

Watched as his eyes grew hot, a golden reflection in their depths for the blink of an eye. He put one hand on the back of her neck, but stopped when she thought he would pull her in for a kiss.

"Spike?"

"I wouldn't stop with just one kiss, Buffy," he said with a rueful smile. "Barely hanging on as it is. Mustn't tempt myself more than this. Already bad enough, just sitting with you."

Yeah. Time for another break.

"Would it help," she asked, "if I told you seeing Carlo – the Immortal – was Giles' idea?" She sat up straight, scooted her chair back away from him and his wandering hands. "Or should I just tell you I need to pee?"

Spike blinked at her, surprised and exasperated, then started laughing as she blushed.

---

Your reviews feed me, as always. Please let me know if there are loose ends in this story that you especially want to see wrapped up in coming chapters. Many thanks.