Buffy stared into the bathroom mirror, grimacing slightly at her red-rimmed eyes and the tear stains that had fallen onto the front of her blouse. Of course, she reminded herself, it was nothing compared to the wreck she would have been had Giles rejected her apology. After all this time, so long having rejected *him* -- it would have been what she deserved.

"Are you all right, Buffy?"

Spike's soft, concerned voice, a bare foot or so away from her, startled her, and she jumped with a little shriek. Once again, she had not heard or sensed him coming, and the lack of reflection he cast in the mirror had given her no warning of the fact that she was not alone in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, automatically, stepping back away from her and dropping his gaze to the floor -- just as she had known that he would do.

Spike seemed to have a tendency to try and take responsibility for any problem or thing that went wrong onto himself almost without even thinking about it. He was quick to apologize, something that must have been trained into him by previous masters.

She hated it.

She turned to face him, thinking with a sense of guilt and sadness that his current behavior was not completely due to his previous training. She was well aware that before her cruel rejection after that first night they had spent together, prior to the savage torture she had left him to endure at her husband's hands -- Spike had seemed much more secure, confident, than he did now, even as a slave.

Oh, he had been careful of how he treated her, wary of punishment and maintaining a much higher level of respect for her than he ever had in his pre-slavery days. But there had been a sense of comfort between them -- a sort of familiarity that he now seemed to be avoiding at all costs.

*And why shouldn't he?* she thought with self-disgust. *That familiarity got him nothing but a slap in the face for the comfort he tried to give me, and a beating on top of that!*

She did not even know if it was really possible at this point -- but she wanted to make it right.

She slowly closed the distance between them, putting her hands on his arms when she reached him and seeking his gaze as she said softly, "Spike."

She felt him tense under her touch, and when he looked up hesitantly to meet her eyes, she could see a measure of fear in his, reminding her again of how recklessly she had played with his emotions, using him for her own comfort, with no thought for the confusion and pain she caused him in the process. She could tell that as a result of the mixed signals she had given him, he now had absolutely no idea what to expect from her.

A slap, or a kiss – both were “rights” she had exercised before, and he had none of his own.

The warmth in her eyes made him relax a little, and he finally focused his eyes on hers, waiting for her to speak. When she did, there was affection and gratitude in her voice. “You were right…about Willow…about Giles,” she told him. “Thank you.”

He shrugged slightly, seeming a bit uncomfortable with her praise, but there was a hint of pride in his eyes, and his mouth turned up just slightly in the beginnings of a smile, as he replied humbly, “ ‘S nothing. Just trying to help.”

“Well, you did,” she stated simply. “And I’m grateful. I really am.”

He was quiet for a moment, his open, expressive eyes making him much too vulnerable to someone as careless with his affections as she had been. He was obviously touched by her words, not used to being thanked for anything anymore. After all, whatever he did for her was no less than his duty, wasn’t it?

He smiled at her, grateful for the small consideration. “You’re welcome,” he said softly, a little shyly.

The look of devotion in his eyes brought a lump to Buffy’s throat that made it hard to speak, but she made herself anyway. There were things that she needed to say – and that Spike needed to hear.

“I – I never thanked you,” she said in a hushed voice, trying to hold back the tears that rose to her eyes unexpectedly. “For – well – if it wasn’t for you – I’d still be with him,” she pointed out quietly, dropping her gaze as she thought back with shame and pain of fall she had allowed Riley to do. What she had allowed him to do to Spike was the worst of it, but by far not all of it.

“You – you helped me see – that I had to leave. That I – I didn’t deserve that,” she finished in a halting, trembling voice. “You – were a friend to me, Spike. When I had no one. And that means – so much…” Her voice broke off when she reached the point where another word would have had her in tears.

Slowly, cautiously, with a sort of reverence, Spike gently shifted his arms under her hands so that *he* was holding *her* arms instead, steadying her with his gentle touch. “I couldn’t have done anything else, love,” he whispered, lowering his head with his voice, his mouth so close that his breath gently rustled her hair.

“I – I’d do anything for you, Buffy.” There was an aching vulnerability in his tender admission that made her tears spill over down her face, as she allowed his tentative hands to draw her closer to him.

He was a little scared, and not at all sure that he was doing the right thing, but she was crying, emotionally overwrought from the events of the past few days, and instinct took over as he took her into his arms. He was reassured when she leaned her head against his chest, accepting the comfort he offered, and he began to relax a bit, daring to lightly run his fingers through her hair, whispering comforting shushing sounds into it, relishing the feel of her in his arms.

After a few moments, she pulled back from him, looking into his eyes, her own troubled and tearful, and the guilt she felt was clear there. “I’m doing it again,” she said with self-directed frustration and anger in her voice. “You’re the one that’s been beaten and abused and – and treated like garbage, and I’m the one who’s bawling like a baby and taking comfort in *you*. Again.”

He shook his head in dismissal of her concerns, as he protested earnestly, “No…no, love. I – I *want* to be able to – to do whatever you ask me to, Buffy. I want to – to be what you need.”

The heartfelt sentiment only reminded her once again of how cruelly she had treated him, taking what she needed and casting him aside when she was through. She had hurt him terribly – and the open, eager expression in his eyes told her that she could easily do it again if she was not careful.

Slowly, giving him a warm smile through her tears to reassure him, Buffy pulled out of his embrace. “What about what *you* need?” she asked him softly.

His tentative confidence, that was only a response to her insecurity and need, faded suddenly as he lowered his eyes, uncomfortable. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered with a self-conscious little shrug.

Buffy reached a gentle hand to lift his chin, bringing his eyes back into line with hers, gazing into them searchingly for a long moment before she spoke intently. “Yes. It does.”

He swallowed hard, emotion that he was struggling to conceal obvious in the set of his jaw, his wide, uncertain eyes, though he did not say a word.

When he did not respond, she went on in a tone that was gentle but left no room for argument. “You deserve so much more than what I’ve given you, Spike. I – I don’t want to use you. I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been a friend to me, and – and that’s what I want to be to you. If you’ll have me.”

Spike’s mouth opened in protest, no doubt to insist that there was no question of whether or not he would have her, but she raised her hand to stop him, not finished yet.

“I want you to feel comfortable with me, Spike,” she told him, meeting his eyes with an arresting gaze that refused to let him look away. “I want you to feel like you can look at me if you want to…talk to me if you want to…and not be afraid of me.”

Once again, he averted his eyes, uncomfortable with the kindness and consideration he was not accustomed to.

“Spike, look at me.” Buffy’s voice was slightly impatient, but not unkind, and he reluctantly did as she asked. “I told you once that I wouldn’t hurt you,” Buffy went on, her voice softer with tears and memory, her eyes honest and open as they met his, bravely facing her own failures. “And then I did,” she admitted, pausing for a moment before she added earnestly, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Spike.”

He shook his head, pulling away from her hand still on his face. “No,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t your fault. If I’d have…”

“It *was* my fault,” Buffy interrupted him, firmly overriding his attempts to take the blame onto himself. “And I’m sorry.” She paused before adding emphatically, “And it *won’t* happen again. I promise, Spike.” She looked deep into his eyes as she gave him her word. “I will never hurt you again. You don’t have to be afraid of making me mad, or getting punished, because it won’t happen.”

She reconsidered slightly, then, with a pensive tilt of her head, as she amended, “Well, I might get mad. I mean – back before the whole world went insane – I think everything we ever said to each other made us both furious.” She laughed with a certain fondness at the memory. Then her eyes grew serious, though she was smiling, as she added, “But I won’t hurt you. I might yell and scream and generally be a bitch – but if I do – I want you to feel like you can just yell and scream and cuss me out in British right back.”

He could not help but laugh softly at her frank but quite accurate assessment of the way they had always treated each other before, but in spite of the honesty in her eyes, telling him that she meant every word, he could hardly imagine talking to her, treating her, the way he once had.

So many things had changed so much -- *he* had changed so much – since then. He could see in her eyes that she meant was she was saying, and really intended to keep her word this time, and it made him want to dare to hope…

But hadn’t she *intended* to keep her word the first time?

Buffy could see the doubt in his eyes, mingled with the faint beginnings of hope – and she couldn’t really blame him. She had done nothing thus far to earn his trust. “I know it’s hard to accept right now,” she conceded. “But I mean it. And I’ll *show* you I mean it, no matter how long it takes. I want to be there for you, , Spike,” she said earnestly, her eyes full of affection as they met his, her hand rising to gently stroke down the side of her face. “You’ve been there for me.”

Her tender words and touch took his breath, as he stared back into her eyes, longing to believe in what she was offering, which was so much more than he had hoped for. At any rate, he *knew* what he could offer *her*.

“I always will be, Buffy,” he assured her, his voice thick with emotion. “I always will be.”


Most of the morning and early afternoon was spent in catching up with the friends from which Buffy had willingly estranged herself before; now, she was desperate to know all that she had missed in their lives due to her foolish mistake. She was more grateful than she could express that they had forgiven her so easily, accepted her back so freely.

She listened with rising interest as Giles talked about his recent travels around the country, giving lectures and gaining support for the growing abolitionist movement. The things he said began to raise a lot of questions for her that she had not given much thought to before – questions that she did not feel comfortable asking in front of the whole group. She did not want to risk offending the vampires who were with her Watcher, who seemed more his friends than his slaves.

Which, she thought, should not have surprised her. After all, she would not have expected Giles to own slaves himself when he was so adamantly against slavery. What *did* surprise her was the fact that the vampires were with him at all. Her Watcher had never advocated cruelty in any form, but just because he did not want to see creatures that had been made helpless abused and mistreated, did not mean that he wanted to make them his best friends.

She really hoped that she would get the chance to talk privately with Giles.

After their talk upstairs, Spike seemed less fearful around her – but apparently *only* around her. When she urged him gently to sit down with the rest of them, instead of just standing, as if waiting for a command, he obeyed, but he took the nearest seat he could to where she sat, and remained very attentive to her. He did not take part in the conversation, just sat there, watching carefully in case she needed something.

Buffy was acutely aware that the others were noticing his subservient behavior to her – and they were not liking it. Her friends were obviously uncomfortable with his attitude toward her, but they mostly tried to ignore it – with the exception of Tara, who was looking more upset by the moment.

Giles’ vampires spoke openly with her friends, but regarded Buffy warily, as if she might be dangerous. Apparently, they were taking their cue from Spike’s careful behavior, reading it as a sign that the Slayer might have a tendency toward anger or violence. They did not seem genuinely afraid however; Buffy got the impression that they felt very safe as long as they were in the presence of her Watcher.

It was the reaction of said Watcher that bothered Buffy the most. He kept trying to draw Spike into the conversation, and Spike kept avoiding it, keeping his attention focused primarily on Buffy, seeming uncomfortable and nervous anytime anyone else seemed to focus on him. With every moment that passed this way, Giles’ manner with Spike became softer, as he tried to coax him out of the shell he had built around himself – and his manner with Buffy became cooler.

With dismay she realized that he must somehow hold her responsible for Spike’s behavior.

She *really* needed to talk to her Watcher alone.

The conversation continued around her, but she began to zone out of it a little, as she tried to think of a way to get Giles away from his faithful followers, and Spike away from her, so that she could talk to him alone. But she knew that Spike would be reluctant to be left behind, and the vampires in Giles’ care, while clearly more secure than Spike was at the moment, still seemed fairly attached to the older man.

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted as Giles spoke, a little sharply. “Buffy,” he said, his tone cool and his eyes narrowed slightly. “May I have a word with you in private?”

She felt her heart leap up into her throat, choking her, suddenly terrified at the hard expression on her Watcher’s face. Apparently, it was not going to be as difficult as she had thought to have that private conversation with him. She should have been that direct about it, she thought ruefully.

Problem was…suddenly she wasn’t so sure she *wanted* to have this conversation.

Giles did *not* look pleased.

But there was nothing to be done about it. As her Watcher rose from his seat without another word and stepped toward the front door, like a child in dread of her punishment, Buffy slipped out of her chair and followed him with slow, dragging steps, wondering with an almost panicked feeling what exactly Giles had on his mind that was important enough to him to interrupt the conversation for.

She had the uncomfortable knowledge that she was about to find out.