Buffy felt a deep, anguished ache in her chest, as if her heart literally split in two at his words, although she knew deep down that there was no way she could blame him for speaking them. They were the very words that she had sought to draw from his lips.

They were the least that she deserved.

What reason did he have to trust her, after the way she had treated him? He had begged her, pleaded with her specifically *not* to hurt him in that single devastating way – and yet, that was exactly what she had chosen to do. She had, as he said, deliberately set out to take even his very love for her from him.

*Well, you got what you wanted,* she told herself bitterly. *Happy now?*

“Spike,” she tried again in a quiet, broken voice, her aching heart spilling out her words with an openness she had rarely offered to the blonde vampire, who was often painfully open and vulnerable to *her*. “I’m *so sorry*. I was wrong…I thought that was what I wanted – for you to get over me and stop wanting me – I thought I *knew* what I wanted, but I was *so wrong*! I – I need you, Spike! Please! I *love* you!”

“Do you need me, or do you love me, pet? Because you do realize that there’s a *difference*, right?” Spike remarked in a flat, painfully blank tone, drawing away from her and half-turning so that he was no longer facing her. The raw pain and desperation in her voice was like a knife through his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to turn and take her in his arms and soothe it away.

But he could not do that. Not now.

Buffy shook her head, her emerald eyes wide, deep and sorrowful, yearning for a response from him that she feared she would never receive again. “No there’s not,” she whispered. “Not for me.”

“And therein lies your problem.”

Buffy just stared at him, confused, shaking her head slightly..

“You’re scared because I’m suddenly talking to you like this – ‘Spike’s never done this before, maybe I’ve actually bloody pushed him too far,’” he assessed in a hard voice tinged with anger and disgust. “so now you think you’re losing me and you’re willing to call the craving, the desire you’ve got for me *love* – and the bloody ironic thing is that’s what scared you out of your mind to begin with -- to think you’d sink so low as to love a thing like me.”

Buffy could not tell if the cold, disgusted tone of his voice was aimed at her and her betraying feelings, or himself for having accepted so little from her for so long.

*But he’s wrong! I *do* love him!* she thought, bordering on panic. *I have to make him see…!*

“No, Spike…”

“Just let me finish, pet,” he snapped, and Buffy immediately stopped talking.

In spite of her intense need to make him understand what she was feeling, the epiphany of sorts that she had had over the past week -- the least she owed him at this point was to listen – no matter how wrong she thought he was.

“I thought you loved me, too, Buffy,” he continued, his hurt now evident in his voice. “But obviously you don’t. Or you couldn’t have done what you just did to me. You don’t hurt someone you love – not like that.”

“I didn’t mean to, Spike…Spike, I love…”

“Don’t say that,” he snapped, glaring up at her furiously. His words came out slow, emphatic and even as he stepped closer to her, his eyes suddenly boring into hers with a blazing truth of accusation. “Yes you bloody well did! It was your goal from the start, wasn’t it? To *hurt* me so bad I’d run, so you’d be able to take the coward’s way out!”

“You deliberately set out to *hurt me*, Buffy. It was your goal. So do *not* soddin’ tell me that you…” He stopped suddenly, looking away, before his voice could break over the longed for words that now were a source of nothing but devastating heartache.

He tried again, lower, with more control, “Do not tell me that. Because I can’t believe it.”

Buffy was silent, her eyes focused on the floor at her feet. She had no argument, no defense.

“See, that’s the thing about solitude, pet…been spending a bit of time on my own this past week…and it’s bloody amazing how clear my thinking’s gotten without you filling my head up with your vicious little games,” Spike informed her calmly, and Buffy flinched as much at the even, matter-of-fact tone of his voice as at his actual words.

Spike went on, not acknowledging her reaction if he noticed it, “And I believe I’ve had a bit of a revelation about *love*, pet…you can’t tell how much you love someone by how much you trust them – it’s how much *they* can trust *you*.”

He was silent for a moment, allowing her to take that in. Buffy frowned slightly, struck by the thought, and thinking it through, slowly realizing what he was saying, before he went on to explain.

“I loved Dru for over a hundred soddin’ years. Would have given my bloody unlife for her a thousand times over. But did I trust her?” He shook his head with a soft, sadly ironic laugh. “No,” he admitted quietly. “Couldn’t. She was unpredictable in the worst of ways – littlest bloody thing could set her off – and I always knew that if her precious Daddy came back, I’d be second fiddle to him. Didn’t even take *him* to take her away from me. First bloke come along to pay her a bit of attention managed to catch her eye.”

He paused for a moment, shaking his head before he concluded with a sort of distant sorrow, a regret for a past that was long lost, beyond changing, the pain of which had faded considerably with time, “She never really loved me. I can tell – by how easy it was for her to hurt me.”

Buffy’s gaze was fastened on the floor; she was unwilling or unable to raise her eyes to meet the fiery sapphire gaze she knew was boring into her, making the silent accusation that she knew to be true. How many times had *she* hurt him, without hesitation or a second thought?

“I on the other hand -- *did* love her,” Spike went on after a moment, looking away again. “I would’ve done anything for her. And it didn’t matter how bad she hurt me, how well I knew that I was nothing more than a – a *convenience* to her…”

Buffy flinched at the clear hurt in his voice over that painful word, the one that she had used herself to describe him more than once.

“…just someone to take care of her in Angelus’s stead,” Spike finished softly. After a moment, he added, “I knew it. But it didn’t make me love her any less. *She* could trust *me* to lay down my life for her – to do whatever it took to make her happy – for longer than I *should* have loved her – though she never once in a hundred years managed to prove that she loved me as much.”

He looked up at her again; she could feel it, though she still could not look at him, as he added softly, “You know it *is* possible to kill love, Slayer.”

The words sent an icy shiver down her spine, and she felt the aching sobs of despair rising in her throat – but fought them back. She did not have the right to cry over the pain she had caused him -- not when his eyes were dry and tearless.

He had given Drusilla a hundred years – was it possible that she had killed his love already, in a single night of cruelty?

When he spoke again, there was a surprising gentleness to his mildly sarcastic voice, as he said, “And forgive me if I’m crossing a line, here, Slayer – not like we’re ‘talking buddies’ or anything like that – but I’d dare say you still loved Angelus, at least for a time. With or without the bloody soul.”

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, automatically – but somehow…could not.

She knew it was true.

“Takes quite a bit to make love stop, Slayer. Real love – takes a lot of hurt to take it out – but it *is* possible,” Spike went on. “There’s no way you trusted the bloody git – not after some of the things he did to you and yours – but you still loved him. Don’t deny it.”

Buffy was silent for a long moment, as he gave her time to respond if she felt like it.

“I wasn’t going to,” she whispered sadly, shaking her head.

Spike turned his head and regarded her for a moment, taking in her bowed head, dejected expression, and red, tearful eyes, a slight flicker of sympathetic pain in his eyes the only indication of the regret he felt for drawing up the most painful events of her past. Finally he looked away again, nodding slowly.

“See – you loved him, whether you could trust him or not. And for a time – until he managed to go too far and kill that love – he could trust you still, though you didn’t know it. You couldn’t kill him – because you still loved him.”

“So you see, the conclusion of the matter,” Spike said, his voice rising slightly, shifting the oddly intimate tone of the conversation as he raised his eyes to hers again, “is that you *don’t* have to have trust to love someone, pet. You don’t.”

“But to love someone you can’t trust – it hurts, pet. It bloody well hurts – and it never ends well.”

The calm, distant sound of his voice sent a sense of cold foreboding down her spine, though she knew that it served only to mask the pain he was feeling. Because it also spoke of the decision he had made – the decision to reject the pain that seemed to be all she had to offer him.

Her desperation showed in her eyes as she suddenly moved closer to him, closing the distance between them and taking his arm in a strong but gentle hand, turning him to face her.

“But you *do* still love me,” she half-asked, half-stated, her low, intense tone revealing just how much the answer mattered to her.

He did not pull away from her hand, but did not look up to meet her eyes either, swallowing back a painful knot of emotion that had risen in his throat, as he blinked back the tears that formed in his crystal blue eyes, determined not to break down in front of her -- not again.

“Buffy,” he whispered his aching admission, shaking his head slowly, “I can’t help it. No matter how hard I try.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, a wild, desperate hope building inside her. “Then let me show you, Spike!” she insisted in a pleading, urgent tone, as the tears she had not wanted to allow herself somehow managed to escape anyway, streaking her face. “Please let me show you that I know the truth now! I know you really love me – and I love *you*, Spike. I do. Please just give me a chance to prove it to you…”

“Not that easy, pet,” he shook his head resolutely, with an effort drawing his hand, albeit reluctantly, out of her hand and taking a step backward. His voice softened as he repeated, “Never that easy…”

“It doesn’t have to be easy!” Buffy insisted, her voice trembling with a passionate intensity that drew his eyes up to hers, despite his determination to keep that distance between them. “I don’t care how hard it is! I’ll do whatever it takes to show you, Spike…”

She paused, holding his gaze with a desperate, pleading intensity, taking both of his arms in her hands as she added in a softer voice, though just as certain, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this past week, too, Spike – and I’ve realized something important. Love is a *choice*, Spike it’s not just about feelings…”

A harsh bitter little laugh left the vampire’s lips, and he shook his head in disbelief. “You’re telling *me* that love is a choice,” he stated flatly.

Buffy flinched, but bravely persisted, “You’re right, Spike. I was scared of what I felt. You told me a long time ago. So – I chose actions to prove to myself – that it wasn’t true. That what I was feeling – for you – was not – not real. It wasn’t fair to either of us, but especially to you. I hurt you in ways that disgust me to even think about it now – and you still stayed by my side, Spike…”

She edged in closer to him, feeling him tense under her touch, his jaw setting in determination to resist her, not to allow her to make him give in, though she could sense his desire, knew that he was close to breaking down.

“I’m done running, Spike,” she informed him in a voice that was quiet and steady, with only a slight tremor from her tears, seeking his gaze until he met her eyes. “I’m ready to face the truth – and what I feel for you – it *is* real. And I *choose* to love you – if you’ll let me. *Please*.”

Spike was silent for a long moment, reluctantly lifting his downcast eyes to search hers. There was a reserve in his intent gaze, a hesitance to yield too much to her too soon – but she could see the traces of hope in his eyes, the yearning desire for her words to be true.

After a long moment, he looked away again, visibly choking back a sob that rose in his chest, before he replied in a haunted, trembling whisper, “I want to let you, Buffy – I do – but – how can I possibly know – that this isn’t just – just another bloody test? How can I know you’re not gonna change your mind, or get scared and pull another runner on me – or just decide that you need an extra laugh today, so why not make the joke on Spike again?”

Buffy flinched away from the bitter accusation in his voice, but did not look away, did not back down. She knew she deserved every word, as painful as it might be to hear them.

“Because I would never do that to you again, Spike. I’ll spend as long as it takes to make you see how sorry I am for that…” she began, an imploring note to her heart-felt apology.

“I never thought you would have done it to begin with,” Spike pointed out quietly, sounding suddenly so very tired, as he sighed wearily, “but I was wrong. It’s easy to *say* the words, love – not so easy to prove it.”

“I don’t care how hard it is,” Buffy insisted. “Please…please, Spike – give me a chance. I love you so much – please…”

Spike was silent for a long moment, and Buffy held her breath, her heart pounding with apprehension and hope in anticipation of his response. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even, cautiously restraining the emotions he obviously felt in spite of himself.

“A chance, Buffy,” he conceded with a nod. He looked up at her, crystal clear, painfully expressive blue eyes meeting hers honestly. “I *do* love you, Buffy – couldn’t stop – not ever – but I can’t let you keep hurting *both* of us like you’ve been doing…”

“I know, I’m not…”

“Buffy, please,” he cut her off gently but firmly, raising a hand between them and pushing her slightly back to create a little distance, while still holding her gaze firmly as he went on.

“I want to believe you – I do – but it’s hard to accept it…hard to trust…after – everything. It’s gonna take time, love…no promises, not overnight…”

“Okay…I know…” Buffy nodded, excitement and relief showing in her suddenly tear-filled eyes. “I promise I’m gonna make this up to you, Spike! You won’t regret this, I promise! I love you so much, and I’m gonna prove it…”

As she spoke, she leaned in impulsively, raising her head toward his in preparation for a kiss.

To her surprise, and hurt, he drew back quickly, holding her gently at arm’s length.

“No, Buffy,” he said in a soft, firm voice. “No more. I won’t let you use me, and I won’t let you use yourself that way to convince me.” He paused, allowing her to process that, searching her eyes to be sure she understood, before continuing, “It’s easy to say you love me – easy to use your touch to make it feel like you do – proving it’s another story altogether…”

“I will, Spike…I’ll prove it,” Buffy assured him, her voice quiet but firm and certain, as she bravely met his eyes in spite of the tears that filled her own. His rejection of her kiss hurt – but she understood it perfectly. She had used her touch as a weapon against him for far too long. “I’m going to make you see that things aren’t going to be like they were before, I promise.”

Spike nodded his acceptance of her words slowly. “No promises, Buffy,” he reminded her. “Don't promise something you don't know if you can give. A chance -- that's all this is. I can’t go through – I can’t…”

His voice trailed off and he looked away for a moment, before focusing his solemn, certain, pain-filled eyes on hers. "We're not going back to the way things were -- ever. I can't do that again. None of the bleedin' benefits you're used to, pet...they only complicate things. I'll be your friend as far as you'll allow me to be -- but I can't promise you when -- if ever -- I'll trust you to be mine."

Buffy bravely held his gaze, though fresh tears welled in her eyes, then fell, as she reminded herself again that this "probationary status" -- these hard and fast ground rules -- were the least that she deserved from him after what she had done to him.

She was lucky that he was forgiving her at all.

She nodded slowly, accepting his terms. "I'll earn your trust again, Spike. I will."

He was quiet for a moment, only nodding once in acknowledgement of the words he was not sure if he could believe -- not yet. He hesitated, fighting back his emotions, before finishing in a trembling voice, “I'm sorry I can't offer you more, Buffy -- but I just can’t let you do it again. All I can offer you is this -- just a chance.”

Buffy looked up at him, her expression softening with affection and remorse as she realized anew just how badly she had hurt him. Truth be told, she had no idea how she was going to do it -- if she even *knew* how to genuinely love anymore -- but if she didn't, she would learn.

And she would make it right.

Though she longed to seal the conversation, the generous concession he had just made her, with a tender kiss, she satisfied herself with simply raising a gentle hand to brush away a lone tear that had fallen to streak his face, accepting the small token sign of his acceptance, when he allowed her the brief touch. Her voice was tender, yet tinged with a determination that gave them both hope as she replied.

“Then that’s all I can ask.”

Without another word, she turned and headed toward the door -- well aware that in some ways she had already gone far past wearing out her welcome at the moment. Tears of mingled relief, gratitude, and fear that she would not be able to do what it would take to win back his affections, streamed silently down her face as she reached the door -- and stopped for a moment.

She half-turned, not facing him, as she said softly, "Next time I'll knock."

Spike did not move, did not respond at all -- he did not trust himself to. As she quietly closed the door behind her, he tried to force back the deep, aching sob that had been building in his chest throughout the entire conversation.

Couldn't.

In the safe solitude of his own home, without the fear of allowing the person who had dominated his heart, his thoughts, his entire life for the past two years to walk over him and break his heart again -- Spike finally gave vent to his emotions. He collapsed into his chair, his hand raised to cover his face as he allowed himself to break down, his mind already racing over the entire conversation again, analyzing it -- his heart committing it to memory and wondering desperately if there was still a chance for them...someday…

...and wondering if by giving her the chance she had asked for, or by sending her away at all -- he had just made a terrible mistake.