Three days passed. Three days of pure agony for Buffy. Her body was sore, but her spirit was broken, obliterated right before her eyes. She spent the first day in the infirmary, ignoring the people who visited as she watched the door for the one person she wanted to see the most. The second day was spent sobbing on her bed, coming up for air only to retch into the toilet when Dawn forced her to eat soup. By the third day her anger at him was a silent partner and she wore her scorn like a painted mask, glaring out at the world through narrowed eyes.

Angel brought her pizza that night. He didn’t wait to be invited into her home when she opened the door, he slipped past her, putting the food on the table and holding up a video. “Legends of the Fall. I thought you could show me what they hype was about.”

Buffy shook her head, silently declining the offer. She walked past Angel, back out onto the balcony where she had been sitting for hours. He followed her, noting immediately that there was an unopened bottle of cognac sitting on the ledge. Taking a seat next to her, he pointed at it and said, “What are you doing, Buffy?”

“It’s a war between me and the bottle. A battle of wills. One of us is going to win eventually. I can’t figure out which one, though.”

“Let me simplify it.” Angel picked up the bottle and broke it against the wall, letting the glass drop to the floor. “Problem solved.”

“There’s always gonna be another bottle.”

“You can always count on me to help even the playing field.”

“Have you heard from him?”

Angel stared out over the city, wishing there was something, anything, he could say to lessen the blow. “No.”

She nodded. It was the answer she had expected, but it still burned her to the bones. “I’m going home. My plane will be leaving in the morning.”

“You are home. He’ll come around, Buffy. You didn’t see him fall apart that night. He does love you.”

“I did see him. I know he meant what he said. It’s over.”

Angel knew better. “It’s not over. You’re hurting right now and he’s mad as hell that you went back out and risked your life, but it’s-”

“I’m the Slayer, Angel. Risking my life is as natural as breathing.”

“You agreed to share that life with him. That means he has some say in what you do with it.”

The truth in his comment caught her off guard. She sighed. “I can’t keeping fighting about this. I really can’t.”

“This hasn’t been a fight about whether or not you’re a Slayer. I know what you are, who you are. This is a fight about you refusing to let other people help. We don’t want to keep you down, Buffy. We both just want you to let other people in the game.”

“By putting me in another department.”

“I thought about it and you don’t have to move to another department. You can stay where you are if that’ll make you happy. But I won’t sit back and watch you exhaust yourself again. There will be rules this time. You won’t go out every night and when you do go out you won’t go alone. Slayer or not, you have to lead by example and the people who look to you for guidance need to see that you recognize them as team members.”

She shook her head and sighed. “Thanks for the offer, but I just want to go home. He’s not-”

“Get dressed,” Angel cut her off. “Lorne asked me to bring you over tonight. Half of Wolfram and Hart is there singing their hearts out for him. You’ll have fun, you’ll sing, and maybe Lorne will be able to tell you whether you should stay here or not.”

“He’s gonna say what you want him to say.”

Angel stood, pulling her with him and ignored her blunt comment. “And for God’s sake, brush your hair. You look like hell.”

She actually smiled a little as she made her way to the bedroom and unzipped one of the many suitcases she had packed earlier in the day, pulling out a pair of low rise jeans and a black, sparkly shirt that clung to her like a second skin, baring most of her stomach. After brushing her hair for five minutes, she decided that the weird curling thing it was doing was actually pretty cute, so she sprayed it and let it hang loose. Finally, she added her necklace, the B and the S that Spike had given her, and the earrings her mother had given her for the nineteenth birthday. Happy that she looked presentable, she made her way back to the living room, stopping only to zip into her boots.

“Wow,” Angel said, checking his watch. “Do you have a magic wand back there?”

“I clean up nice.” Buffy hooked her own watch onto her wrist. “Is there any way at all for me to get out of this?”

“Nope. Let’s go.”

“You brought over a movie. We should watch it.”

“I brought it to break the ice. I don’t like Brad Pitt and I knew you wouldn’t want to watch it.”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

“We’re going.”

“Damn.”

Wolfram and Hart was indeed buzzing with their co-workers. Fred was on stage, singing a twangy old country tune that was vaguely familiar to Buffy. Wesley and Gunn were sitting at a table closest to the stage, stomping their feet and clapping their hands to encourage Fred, whose face was a neon pink with embarrassment. She wasn’t a bad singer at all. Buffy found herself loosening up a little, glancing around the room at the people she had come to know and regard as friends, maybe even family for a few of them. Matilda waved at her and Davies moved away from the bar, giving her a quick hug and telling her how much he had enjoyed their ‘assignment’. She thanked him for his help and shook hands with the new guy, Stone, that Davies introduced her to.

The bartender smiled down at her. “Back again, Songbird? That was beautiful the other day.”

“Thanks.” Buffy climbed onto the barstool and stared longingly at the bottles behind the counter. She knew what she wanted, but she fought the urge. “Could I get a water?”

“Sure thing.”

Angel sat next to her and followed her gaze. “So many people look at those bottles and see salvation. They see a release from whatever is bothering them, but it’s temporary, Buffy.”

“I know. But I still want it.”

“You probably always will. You had a problem with alcohol after Sunnydale. A major problem.” He held his hands up when she quickly turned to look at him. “You did. We all know it, even you. But you did something about it.”

“Spike did something about it,” she corrected.

Angel was about to reply when Lorne came up to them and put his arm around Buffy. “Hey, gorgeous!” To Angel, he said, “What’s new, Suzy Q?”

“She’s gorgeous and I’m a Suzy?” The vampire shook his head. “That doesn’t sound fair to me.”

Lorne only shrugged and spun Buffy’s barstool around so he could hug her properly. “You scared the beejeezus out of me, kitten. I thought you were a goner.”

Buffy hugged him back. She liked him. A lot. “I would have gone out alone and been too distracted by Jameson to focus on the demon and the En Kindle. You actually saved my life.”

Lorne waved away her gratitude. “All in a day’s job. So, what are you going to sing for me tonight?”

Eyes widening, Buffy glanced around the packed house. “Are you kidding? I’m not singing in front of all these people. I may have been tipsy as hell last time, but I knew it was just you and your bartender.”

“These guys?” The Host made a sweeping motion with his arm, indicating the crowd at large. “They love you. Even if you sucked, which you absolutely don’t, they’d still enjoy it because it’s you.”

“No can do, buddy. Stage fright. It’s what dashed my parents dreams of that piano playing career they had nurtured since birth,” she replied honestly. “I tend to freeze up and forget what I’m doing. It’s not pretty. I may even ralph.”

“*You* have stage fright? Fearless Slayer. Able to face down the devil in dark alleys, but you can’t hold a mic and sing? Whatever.” Lorne pulled her off the stool and tugged her along behind him. She attempted to resist, but he jerked even harder, ignoring her protests. He left her at the base of the stairs that led to the stage and grabbed the microphone from the stand. “I have a real treat for you guys. Buffy sang for me, just me and Mikey over there, the other day and we haven’t stopped talking about it since. She’s incredible and she’s going to sing you a little something tonight so give her some love.”

“God! Don’t build me up!” Buffy cried. “I suck!”

Lorne caught her before she could rush away and easily lifted her up onto the stage, depositing her on the piano stool. Everyone was clapping, cheering wildly and he leaned down as he adjusted the mic stand. “Just close your eyes and let me in. Even without singing to me you’re sending off some serious vibes. Let me see what’s happening and I can help.”

“Gah,” Buffy groused. She exhaled and lifted the lid of the piano as her coworkers practically raised the roof. She leaned a little closer to the mic and plastered a smile on her face. “Don’t listen to him. You’re all gonna run in a second.”

They disagreed and clapped some more. She took a deep breath, wondering what to sing, but her fingers found the keys on their own and the first chords of ‘Unchained Melody’ filled the room. Her parents had danced to it at their wedding. She had begun playing it for her father when she was only six and they’d sing it together all the time, even without the music. And at the moment, it seemed to fit.

“Oh, my love, my darling,
I've hungered for your touch a long, lonely time,
Time goes by so slowly and time can do so much.
Are you still mine?
I need your love, I need your love, God speed your love to me.”

She was so lost in song that she didn’t notice the silence that descended in the bar. She didn’t notice the amazed looks that passed between their co-workers or the way Lorne studied her, leaning forward to catch every note she hit with perfect pitch.

And she didn’t notice Spike, standing in the corner, unable to take his eyes off her.

“Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea
To the open arms of the sea
Lonely rivers sigh, "Wait for me, wait for me"
"I'll be coming home, wait for me!"”

The song flew from her, like a bird that had been caged for too long. Her soul wrapped around the words, aching, bleeding, begging for something that seemed lost; the innocence of her childhood, the peace of Spike’s arms, the promise of a better tomorrow. The same hands that killed demons so easily, glided effortlessly over the keys, creating a haunting melody that seemed to wrap around the hearts of everyone who heard it.

Buffy finished the song, holding a high note, and her fingers stilled.

The applause took a second to come and when it did it was thundering. The color rose rapidly to her face and she absently thanked everyone, shutting the piano and standing. When she turned, Spike was at the top of the stairs, waiting for her. It was too much. Angrily, she hopped over the side of the stage and made her way through the crowd, accepting the pats on the back and the glowing praise that people were heaping on her. Angel tried to catch her, to tell her that it had been amazing, but she shook her head. “Don’t.”

“Wait!” Lorne, drying his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt, chased after her and caught her on the sidewalk in front of Wolfram and Hart. He pulled her around to face him and said, “You’ve got two roads going in opposite directions and you’re about to take the wrong one.”

“Speak in smaller words. Can you please?”

“There’s nothing in Italy for you.”

“But-”

“Go talk to him.”

“He left *me*.”

“Pride is a cold companion, Buffy. If you push him too hard he *will* let you go.”

She glanced back at the bar and saw Spike emerge. His eyes found her and he started across the street toward them. Lorne let her go and cupped her cheek. “You love him. And I’ve seen him sing, sweetie. He had stains of you all over him, even before you came here. You belong together. It won’t be easy, but you’ll make it if you’ll listen to him.”

Lorne leaned down, giving her a quick hug. When he pulled away, Spike was stepping up onto the sidewalk next to them and The Host gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he jogged back across the street, drawing more than a few shocked glances.

Buffy turned and headed into Wolfram and Hart, knowing that he was behind her. The place on the wall that Spike had hit had been patched, but not painted. Dawn had given her the sordid details and it hurt her heart to see it, a visual reminder of his grief that night. She glanced down at his hand, which looked none the worse for wear. She stepped into the elevator and moved into the corner, arms crossed over her chest. She could feel his eyes on her, but he said nothing at all. Neither did she.

Inside their apartment, they both moved in opposite directions. She went to kitchen and he went down the hallway, to their bedroom. She took a bottle of water from the fridge and when she turned, he was standing a few feet from her, holding her plane ticket. “This is your answer to our problems?” he asked, his voice low.

She opened the bottle and took a drink, not meeting his eye. “I didn’t know if you were coming back.”

“Does it make a difference that I did?”

“Did you? Or are you here to get a few of your things and leave again? I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what *you’re* doing. Every single time something happens you run.”

“*I* run? I was gone for one night! You were gone for three days!”

“I had some thinking to do.”

‘Well, I hope your thoughts will keep you company.”

He tilted his head a little, studying her. “So you are leaving.”

“My flight leaves in about six hours.”

Nodding, he laid the ticket on the counter. “I’m not going to beg you to stay.”

“I didn’t expect you to.” But she did. She expected him to wrap his arms around her and tell her that he loved her and plead with her not to leave. Maybe that’s the problem, she thought. Maybe she expected too much of him and not enough of herself. Swallowing her pride, she said, “I was really worried about you.”

“You looked really worried up there playing Liberace on stage. Just another secret you kept from me, innit?”

“Lorne made me. I didn’t want to.”

“It was beautiful. I was impressed.”

That caught her off guard. “Uh, thanks. Listen, are you okay?”

“The woman I love nearly died. Again. Now everything she owns is packed in our bedroom. How do you think I am, love?”

“I didn’t almost die. If you had stayed around to hear about it you’d know that apart from a couple of cracked ribs and a few burns, I was fine. Exhausted, but okay.” She took another sip from the bottle, more to have something to do than from thirst. “I wiped out the En Kindle clan, killed their queen. They’ll never come back or hurt anyone else again.”

“But they claimed something precious in the end, didn’t they? Was it worth it to lose us?”

Tears welled in her eyes at the finality of his words. “I don’t want to lose us.”

He fought the urge to go to her, to capture those tears before they could drop onto her cheeks. “But you did.”

Buffy followed him when he turned and went back to the bedroom, her heart pounding so hard that it hurt. She watched as he moved one of her bags and opened his closet, pulling a fresh shirt off the hanger. “Please talk to me.”

“I’ve talked it to death, Buffy!” His voice was sharp, his tone final. “I can’t be the only one who gives in this relationship anymore. You take and take and take from me until I have nothing left.”

“I have given you every piece of me.”

“Except the Slayer.”

“What?”

“You trust me with your body and your heart. You even let me rub against your soul, but you don’t trust me with the Slayer.”

“I was going to let you bite me the other day!” Buffy shouted. “How is that not trusting you? A Slayer willingly letting a vampire feed from her!? Giles would shit!”

“I am talking about the fact that you refuse to let me to take care of you.”

“I don’t need someone to take care of me!”

“Exactly. And that makes me want to that much more. I can make you scream in pleasure, but I can’t make the Slayer put her weapon down and trust one of us to pick it up. It’s the one part of you that I can’t reach, that I can’t tame and that kills me.”

Buffy gave in to the tears and angrily swiped them away. “I accept that you drink blood and that your face changes when you do. I accept that I’m never gonna see you in the sun and that you’re not going to get old when I do. I accept that you’re going to live a million years past me and you’re gonna move on and find someone else one day. I accept you because I love you. Why can’t you accept me?”

“I have no control over anything you so *graciously* accept of me except for one thing. When you die? I’ll burn, Buffy, right out there in the sun next to your grave. I tried to do it every day that you were gone in Sunnydale and I couldn’t. When it happens again, I *will*.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“What do you want me to do?” Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks. “Do you want me to tell you that I’ll never fight again?”

“The same way you told me that you’d stay inside and not go out again? The lies roll of your tongue far too easy these days.”

Giles had said basically the same thing when he’d heard what she had done. He reminded her that she had promised him she would do nothing and questioned her integrity. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t care, but I had every intention of keeping my word. But then I realized that the En Kindle had been in the cave with Miles that night and I knew I had to grab the chance to take them out.”

“Alone.”

“Davies was -”

“You sent him away and did it alone, Buffy! I’m trying to get you to understand something and you refuse to try. We’re a team, me and you. I need you to let me in, let me know what you’re doing, not as a co-worker, not as your friend, but as the man who loves you. Don’t you think I deserve that?”

“You weren’t here.”

“How about all the times before?”

“It was *one* time! I didn’t tell you I was going after the demon that attacked Miles. How long are you going to hold that over my head?!”

“Until you admit that you’re cutting me out of your life. If you won’t admit it to me at least admit it to yourself.”

“I don’t mean to. Spike, I asked you a few days ago if you thought Angel was intentionally keeping us apart. You *let* me work myself into a stupor. You *let* me alienate you and do it all myself. And you didn’t-”

“I’m not your fucking keeper! I don’t want to be!”

“You don’t act like it! Stay inside, Buffy! Don’t go alone, Buffy! You’re not in the right department, Buffy! Tell me what you’re doing, Buffy!” She shook her head. “You’re over protective.”

“Because you continually let me down.”

Her face crumpled a little. “That really hurt.”

“This is getting us nowhere.” Spike pulled a pair of pants from the closet and said, “I’m going to take a shower.”

She watched him go, her heart hurting so much it took her breath away. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she replayed their conversation in her head and came to a stunning realization. Angel had been right earlier. She had asked Spike to share her life and then cut him out of part of it. She always did that. She had let Angel into her Slayer life, letting him help her, but she had never done the human things with him, not really. She never asked him to come home and meet her mother as her boyfriend, they never did normal couple things. With Riley, he had gotten into her Slaying life and her human life, but he was never able to get her heart. And Spike had everything. Her heart, her soul, her body and mind, but not the Slayer. He was right. The Slayer held him at arm’s length and worked alone, fought alone and in the end, would died alone.

Buffy refused to accept that.

Standing, she yanked her clothes off and walked into the bathroom. When she quietly slid the shower door open, she found him leaning his head against the wall, his back to her. She swallowed hard when she realized that his shoulders were shaking. She stepped in and lightly touched him on the back.

Spike turned, rubbing his face and stared down at her. “Buffy-”

“You’re crying.”

“I am *not* crying. I got soap in my eye.”

She glanced at the soap, which was on the top ledge of the shower and very dry. “Right.”

“So what if I was?” he asked, following her gaze. “It doesn’t make me less of a man. You already did that to me.”

The comment aggravated her to the limit, but she brushed it aside and stepped forward, hugging him. She was beginning to think he would push her away when he finally gave in and hugged her back, resting his head on hers. They stood that way for a few minutes, then she looked up at him. “I’m ready to lay my weapon down.”

His jaw tightened and he pinned her back against the wall, holding both of her hands above her head. She didn’t fight him, didn’t struggle and he lowered his head, kissing her hard. Growling a little, he deepened the kiss and let her arms go, lifting her behind the thighs. He felt her wrap her legs around him and moved his hips, slamming into her. She cried out, her body unprepared, and he lifted her a little higher, using his mouth on her breasts, suckling her nipples until they were hard pebbles against his tongue. She gasped and he lowered her, impaling her fully again, and moved to her neck, licking and nipping at her flesh until she was tingling with need.

Buffy felt her body respond, ignite at the place they were joined and she pulled him a little closer, letting him know that she was ready for more. He angled her and thrust forward, hard, punishing. Frantically, she clutched at him, grinding against him, trying to find friction for her aching clit, but he purposely kept her from release and she was reduced to begging him, pleading with him to let her come. Every minute that passed inflamed her need, weakened her on some primal level.

She wasn’t aware that she was crying again until he kissed her, whispering that it was okay. She moaned when he reached between their bodies and ran his thumb across her aching center, pushing her to the brink of orgasm, then over the edge. Her release hit hard, and she cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders. He pounded against her, his palms on her ass as he lifted her and pulled her back down again and again.

Buffy twined her arms around him, listening to the sounds of their bodies slapping together. She kissed the side of his face, his neck, his mouth, whispering that she loved him. He came, growling her name. They stayed that way for a while, until Buffy eased her legs down, forcing him to slip from her. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. He held the shower massage out to her and she used it to wash away the traces of their coupling.

The water cascaded over her body, between her legs, and he swallowed hard, his body reacting to her every move. His cock sprang to life again and he saw her glance at his swollen member, then at his face. Taking the shower massage, he hung it and turned back to her, motioning for her to turn around. She did, shivering when he put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her forward. She leaned down, bracing her hands on the wall when he entered her again, this time from behind. The grip he had on her hips was almost painful, and she could tell that it would bruise, but she didn’t complain, she relished the sting of it.

It was quick this time. He pumped against her, frantically, and within minutes, his eyes were rolling as he spilled his seed deep inside her. He could hear her heart pounding, feel the way she trembled and took mercy on her. He was not a selfish lover and she had not joined him in release. Slipping from her, he pulled her around and rinsed her again, then he hit the stopper on the tub and turned the shower off so the water flowed from the faucet instead. It pooled at the feet, hot.

It would take a while for the big, round garden tub to fill so he kissed her again, massaging her breasts. He took his time, kissing the column of her throat, then the valley between her breasts. Finally, he turned the water off and sat back, hissing at the warmth, then beckoned her forward. He didn’t have to ask twice. She braced her legs on either side of him and he buried his face against her quivering mound. She threw her head back, gasping as he took her to the places that only he could take her, that only he had taken her.

A while later she sat in front of him in the water, her back against his chest, her head resting under his. He had wrapped his legs around her to keep her in place and was trailing a soapy rag over her stomach. She fidgeted a little and he felt her shiver. “Cold, love?”

“I passed cold. I’m heading for freezing.”

Reaching up, he turned the hot water on and pulled the plug. He rinsed away the soap, then helped her to her feet and rose behind her. Her flesh was dotted with goosebumps so he wrapped her in the only towel he had brought into the bathroom and hugged her, trying to rub away the chills. “Come on.”

The bedroom was cold, even to him, so he pulled the cover back for her and lit the gas logs in the corner. When he turned back to the bed, she was burrowed beneath the cover. He smiled a little and opened the drawer where she kept her nightclothes. It was empty. He swore, silently, and turned to look at the mound of luggage she had packed. It didn’t sit well with him and he felt his temper bubbling back to the surface.

“Spike?” Buffy had poked her head out from under the cover and saw the look on his face. “Please don’t start throwing suitcases again.”

“I wasn’t,” he told her, even though the thought had crossed his mind. “Do you want me to ring someone to come and get your things, take them down for the cab?”

She sat up, holding the cover against her bare chest, unable to believe her ears. “You want me to go? I thought I just proved to you that I -”

“You proved that I can have your body and that you want mine. What about the rest?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Spike nodded. “Are you sure? Because if you lie to me again-”

“I won’t.”

He enjoyed making her squirm. It was so out of the ordinary for her to be the one groveling. He had to clamp down on the smile that was threatening to erupt. “I don’t know, love. I can’t trust you.”

“What!?” Cold forgotten, she leapt from the bed and stalked toward him, not catching the gleam in his eyes as he watched her. “You could trust me with your life! I love you more than I have ever loved anyone and for you to say that-”

“Shut up.” He put a finger over her lips and let the smile come. “You really are beautiful when you’re pissed. That’s why I try to keep you mad.”

“You’re not funny,” she snapped as she pulled him down for a kiss.

“I know, baby.”

“I love it when you call me that.”

*~*