Spike was not sure if his trembling legs would hold his body up, as the golden goddess before him slowly closed the distance between them. His longing eyes were focused not on the vision of feminine beauty that was her body, completely exposed to his perusal – but rather, his gaze was fastened on her eyes, searching, hoping, though scarcely daring to.

“Buffy,” he whispered, barely audible, as she reached him, her hands moving to rest gently on his hips. “Buffy, love…please…” He was shaking his head, and he closed his eyes, swallowing hard as he struggled vainly to keep some hold on his emotions. “Please…”

Buffy frowned slightly, lifting one hand to tilt his chin up slightly, her solemn emerald eyes seeking his averted gaze. “What?” she gently pressed him, her hand falling back to his waist, sliding around behind him to pull him closer to her. “Please what, Spike?”

He did not open his eyes, despite her efforts, and kept his arms awkwardly at his sides, refusing to touch her, yet -- though he did yield to her hand and allow her to raise his head. The pain she saw in his expression nearly took her breath – and she knew that had she been able to see those unbearably expressive eyes, it would have broken her heart, as he whispered his achingly desperate response.

“Don’t…don’t ask me to do this. If you don’t mean it, Buffy…I don’t think I could…I would…” He hesitated, before he finished on a soft, barely heard breath. “It would break me, Buffy…please…”

Her hands froze on his waist, her body going very still, and Spike held his breath, his heart sinking with every moment that passed without a response to his poignant plea.

*Here it is…she doesn’t mean it…she’s gonna back out…*

“Spike,” she whispered finally. “Look at me.”

After a moment’s consideration, the vampire looked reluctantly up, his wide, tearful eyes desperately searching hers for some sign of falsehood, any indication that there was some ulterior motive behind the tenderness she was showing him in this moment.

“I mean it, Spike,” Buffy assured him, holding his gaze unflinchingly, her hands unconsciously pulling him nearer to her. “I *really* mean it. I – I do have feelings for you. I don’t know if it’s love – yet – but I know this. I *want* you to make love to me, Spike. I’m tired of the games, too.”

He studied her face for a long moment, his shaking hands slowly moving to rest at her waist, as his hopes began to rise, and he began to allow himself to believe the words he had longed to hear for so long. He could see no trace of deception, no guilt or sign of secrecy, in her eyes; heard nothing but sincerity in her soft, longing voice. Perhaps, finally, she had realized what it was that she really wanted, and was ready to accept it.

Or perhaps -- he was only seeing and hearing what he wanted to see and hear.

“Buffy,” he said softly, in a trembling, earnest voice, “I – I love you…so much…” The words were an honest declaration, and a desperate plea, as he laid his emotions bare to her mercy once more, and silently begged her not to use them to crush his heart.

She was silent for a long moment, though she did not look away, did not attempt to withdraw from him, as she had so many times before at those words. There was a wealth of mingled emotions in her wide, open eyes, as she opened her mouth to speak, hesitating over her response.

“I know,” she whispered, in a tone of compassion and affection, with a note of apology that she could not return the sentiment – yet.

But her words actually meant much more to him than she had expected them too. He did not expect her to tell him she loved him – not yet. There was no way she was ready for that. But just the fact that she was finally willing to acknowledge the depth, the truth of what he felt for her – to admit that it was *real* -- that he really loved her – said so much, and filled his heart with joy and relief.

It was enough that she was giving him what he had asked for – the chance to *love* her.

When she took his hand and led him toward the bed, he followed her, his heart in his throat, his breath coming hard and fast with anticipation, as his mind raced with wondering what this would mean for them.

But then, she had released his hand, and lay down on the bed, gazing up at him with a tenderness, a warm invitation in her eyes that stole all other thoughts from his mind, as she waited for him to accept the gift she had just offered him.

“Buffy,” he whispered, shaking his head slowly in disbelief that it was real, that this was actually happening. “God, you’re so beautiful, love…” His voice held a near-reverence, as he lowered himself onto the bed beside her, a single hand trailing lightly, barely touching across the silky skin of her golden stomach.

“Spike!” she gasped, her head rolling back as his hand reached the part of her body that was now aching, throbbing for his touch. “Oh, *Spike*! The way you touch me – God, I want you!” There was an awe, an amazed disbelief in her breathless voice, her words ending in a little cry of pleasure as his fingers found their goal – only to steal away again, offering her only a torturous temptation – a mere hint of what was to come.

She had offered herself to him this night – and he meant to take his time, to make the most of the gift.

A frustrated whimper of need rose in her throat, as he gently tipped her head back with his hand, his lips finding hers and slowly, thoroughly kissing her, as his hand slid down across her shoulder to gently knead the smooth, firm flesh of her breast. As he deepened the kiss, his thumb rubbing slowly in a circle around the hard peak of her nipple, her lips broke away from his as she gasped for breath.

“Spike – need you…” she moaned softly, a desperate need in her voice as her hands fell low on his back, sliding down to cup his buttocks, tugging him urgently on top of her, and toward the source of her need. “…please…need you…inside me…*please*…”

A low chuckle rose in the vampire’s throat, as a slow smile of pride and pleasure spread across his face. The reminder of how easily he could affect her, how much he could make her need him, gave his confidence a healthy boost that it needed at the moment.

“Patience, pet,” he murmured in a voice like warm honey, as he drew back slightly, rising up off of her on his knees, to trail his hands slowly, seductively, down her sides, and back up again. “This is about me – loving you…not about the bloody act itself…you asked me to…so I’m gonna show you, love…”

“Show me what?” Buffy gasped, breathless and desperate already, a note of frustration in her voice at the sweet torture of his hands, all over her, but not touching any place that she actually *wanted* him to.

His smile widened slightly, as his eyes found hers again – and once again she lost her breath.

“Love,” he repeated softly, a bemused expression on his face, as if he had already stated the answer, as he lowered his mouth to kiss her again.

Spike took his time, gently, thoroughly exploring her body, his hands and mouth slow and worshipful as he did everything in his power to prove to her what she so often tried to prevent him from revealing – the depth of his love.

Many nights he had longed for this, had attempted to take things in this direction. But at the first moment that she began to feel his tenderness, his adoration – anything besides the raw, animal passion and shock of feeling that she believed she had sought him out for – she would withdraw, attacking with words or fists, until he had reached a point where he never dared to attempt such intimacy anymore.

Until tonight.

She had asked him to make love to her – and he was going to show her all the things he’d been feeling, all the powerful emotions she had forced him to suppress, for the last two long, aching, lonely years.

He drew it out, wanting to savor every moment, using only his hands and mouth to pull her gently to the edge of fulfillment, then easing back from it, again and again, until she begged him, pleaded for release – pleaded for the connection and intimacy that she had refused him so many times.

And – because he *did* love her – he could not withhold it from her for long.

Finally, he raised up over her, his own throbbing, longing member hovering over her sodden, desperate core. He was completely still for a long moment, and her wide, hazy eyes sought his out in a silent, urgent question, wondering desperately why he was waiting, when her need was so great, when she was hovering on the edge of explosion.

Once her eyes were focused on his, he smiled softly, his adoration clear in every facet of his expression, as he whispered slowly, tenderly, emphasizing every word, “I…love…you…Buffy…” as he plunged downward, burying himself inside of her heat.

The strangled cry of shock and pleasure that he heard in his ear only increased his own pleasure, and he let himself believe that it was as much due to his words as to the increasingly urgent motion of his body, driving intensely deeper inside her, seeking the completion, the full acceptance, that she was offering – desperately hoping that she would not withdraw it now, once she had given it.

If she did – he knew it would kill him.

“Spike…want you…I need you…God, *Spike*…!” Buffy gasped, her hands clutching at his back, clasping him to her in a desperate embrace that spoke of her need…and…possibly more?

“Love you, Buffy…love you…” he whispered, as with one final thrust that brought a hoarse scream of fulfilled pleasure from the Slayer’s lips, he emptied himself inside her, and they collapsed on the bed, clinging to each other, gasping for breath, and shaking from the intensity of their union.

As the haze began to slowly pass, Spike raised his head from her shoulder, his eyes seeking hers, anxious, uncertain. She was smiling softly up at him, a look of utter contentment in her shining emerald eyes.

“Buffy,” he whispered, swallowing back a hard knot of tears that had risen in his throat – though he could not tell if they were caused by happiness or sheer terror. “Buffy, I love you so much…”

He could see a wealth of confusion in her eyes, watched with a sinking heart as her smile faded slightly. But then, she opened her mouth to speak – and some glimmer of something in her eyes told him beyond all doubt what it was that she was about to say.

“Spike…I lo…”

The soft whispered words were gently cut off by trembling fingers against her lips. She looked up to see the fear, the uncertainty in the vampire’s eyes, as he shook his head slightly.

“What?” she mouthed silently beneath his hand, a gentle concern in her eyes.

He was silent for a moment, his breath coming hard and fast as he struggled for the courage to speak – to stop the words he had longed so desperately to hear.

“Buffy – if you say it…please…” His voice broke slightly, and he lowered his head, closing his eyes, struggling for control of the rampant emotions coursing through him and threatening to consume him.

Her hand rose to gentle brush away a tear that found its way past the barrier of his closed eyes and down his cheek. “Spike…” she whispered again, with a tender urgency, not comprehending why her yet unspoken words would cause him pain. “…*what*?”

He swallowed back a sob that rose in his throat before drawing in a gasping breath in preparation to speak. His eyes still closed, his head still bowed, he whispered softly, “If you don’t mean it, love – please don’t say it…*please*…” He paused, dropping his head to her shoulder for a moment, trying to regain his composure.

Her hand rose automatically to rest at the back of his head, stroking comfortingly through the tousled blonde curls, her eyes wide and staring at the ceiling as the impact of what he was saying hit her – the gravity of his simple plea.

After a moment, he raised his head and continued softly, with a bit more control, though still not looking at her, “You asked me…earlier…what I was afraid of.” He was silent for another long moment, before troubled, fearful blue eyes suddenly met hers, and she found that she could not look away as he went on.

“It’s this, Buffy. It’s us – sharing this – you…saying it…and then…waking up…and you’re…you’re…” His hoarse, aching whisper trailed off, and he looked away again, the pain of the scenario he feared – had lived through so many times – overwhelming him again.

“Gone,” Buffy finished for him in a soft, compassionate whisper.

He nodded as he lowered his head to press his face against her shoulder again. “Please,” he whispered, broken, desperate, “please, Buffy…please don’t…”

She was silent for a long moment, considering. Finally, her hand at the back of his head stilled, gentle fingers tugging slightly to urge him to look up as she spoke.

“Spike,” she whispered soothingly. “Hey…Spike…”

He reluctantly looked at her, his eyes wide and filled with a desperate hope mingled with terror.

She gave him a soft, reassuring smile, as she whispered in a voice of tender, compassionate reproof, “Do you trust me or not?”

He studied her expression for a long, breathless moment – before nodding slowly, a soft, barely audible whisper escaping his lips.

“I do.”

She nodded slowly in approval, her smile widening slightly as she held his gaze, warmth and affection in her own. “Then listen to me, Spike,” she instructed gently but firmly, her hand shifting from his hair to tenderly caress his face.

“I -- *love* -- you.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, then slowly filled with tears of joy as he drew in a shaking, gasping breath – and his shoulders began to shake with sobs of relief, of powerful joy and other emotions that he could not have named, as he collapsed into her embrace, his head buried in her neck.

No other words were necessary, as the Slayer just held him close to her, gently soothing the fears that had been consuming him, cradling the vulnerable vampire in her arms, until he fell into an exhausted but peaceful and utterly sated sleep.