“I’m not ready for you to not be here,” Buffy said.

    Spike was stunned, flattered, far too hopeful, and scared to death. More to death. The way Buffy looked at him – the way she’d looked at him earlier this evening, making sure he was okay – made him chime with something he couldn’t name, and didn’t want to. But the glimpse he’d caught of her on her date this evening... she’d been herself again, the little girl with the flirtatious laugh. He didn’t want to take that from her... or rather, he wanted to be the one to give it to her, but if he couldn’t.... “And the principal?” he asked. “How does he fit in?”

    Buffy looked confused, then pained. “I don’t have time for that,” she said. “We don’t.”

    Spike nodded and looked away. It had nothing to do him. Unless it did. God, it was confusing. He’d gotten his soul to please her, and realized once he’d got it that she deserved nothing more than for him to stay away from her. To his annoyance, he loved her more than ever, and it hurt even worse. Madness, to earn back his soul.

    As if she knew what he was thinking, she asked, “Spike? Your soul....” Her voice quavered a little on the word. He looked back at her, to find her eyes burning into his skin. He swallowed. “Is it... like Angel’s?” He shook his head, confused, but she continued, “If you... were to find happiness – in whatever way – would you lose it?”

    He realized what she was asking, and his mouth went dry. “Which answer do you want to hear?” he asked. She looked down, and he leaned back to look at her properly. His tone very gentle, he went on, “Which one hurts less?”

    “Neither,” she said. “Both. Either answer would be hard. But I need to know the truth of it.”

    He hesitated. If he told her he was off limits, she’d be free. It was what she deserved. But if she didn’t want to be free.... He debated for a long while. Ultimately, he realized, it wasn’t his decision. That was the kind of thing Angel would do, decide what was right for her without her input, and manipulate her with a lie. He couldn’t do that. “It’s there,” he said finally. “As far as I know, it’s never going anywhere. Even if I want it to,” he added, unable to hide the slight ruefulness to his tone.

    A moment later his skin hummed as he felt her hand on his forearm, warm even through the black denim. He closed his other hand into a fist and tried not to gasp, or cry, or indulge in all the other wildly inappropriate emotional responses he’d been battling with ever since he’d gotten that burning spark back into his being. Her touch made it flare like a torch. When he was exhausted and in pain from being tortured by the First, her hand in his had done little but warm him comfortably, make him secure. But now, feeling for the most part all right, it was overwhelming. Then she made it worse. She snuggled up against his arm, her head cocked like a child. “Don’t leave me, Spike.”

    He nearly groaned. He’d been aching to hear those words – or words like them – for years. He fought twin impulses to run out the door, and catch her up in his arms and crush her to him. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” he said softly. He forced his hand out of its fist and placed it gently on hers. “Be whatever you need me to be.”

    She laughed, rather hopelessly. “Just be here,” she said. “That’s all I know right now. I need you here.”

    He closed his eyes, basking in the miracle of the moment. “Then I’m here,” he said. They let the moment linger, hands clasped, her head on his arm, he didn’t know how long. The clock ticked, the crickets chirped, the night sank deeper outside. One of the potential girls came downstairs for a drink from the kitchen. She didn’t even look at them, but Buffy sat up anyway, the moment shattered. She stood up, clearly ready to go to bed.

    “I don’t know what the First has planned for me,” Spike said softly.

    Buffy gazed at him. “We’ll deal.”

    He looked up. “Is it worth it?”

    She paused. “You’re worth it,” she said.

    Spike scoffed, softly.

    “You are,” she said.

    He only believed it because he believed in her. But he couldn’t help but ask. “Why do you think that?”

    She considered him. “Which answer do you want to hear?” she asked.

    He didn’t know. He didn’t know what would hurt the least.

    She lightly touched his shoulder in farewell. “Goodnight, Spike.”