A/N: The song in this chapter is Confessions of a Vampire from "Dance of the Vampires," which is, by the way, one of the worst musicals ever, though I hear it's mildly better in German. This song is kind of cool, though. I had to rearrange a lot of the song, because I couldn't use some of the verses (for obvious reasons, if you listen to it).

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Chapter 14: Confessions of a Vampire

Spike refused all her attempts at conversation, leaving them to walk in frustrated silence as they made the circuit through the usual cemeteries. After they’d dusted five vamps with no more than instinctual grunts and barked commands between them, Buffy finally couldn’t take it any longer.

“Do you really think I came back wrong?” she asked timidly.

The question was enough to stop him in his tracks as he turned and stared at her. “What?”

“You can hurt me. That has to mean I’m not human, right? I came back wrong.”

Spike shoved his hands into his duster pockets and tipped his head back, studying the sky for a moment before he sighed and dropped his gaze back to her. “Don’t rightly know, pet. Guess you’d have to ask the witches – once we find Tara, that is.”

Judging by the expression on her face, she’d been hoping for more comfort than that. Spike made a face as he wrestled with himself over what to say. “Still smell human,” he offered. He lifted one hand and let it run down her bare arm. “Still… feel human.”

Just as before, his touch sent tingles through her – only this time, it was a cold shiver of fear, rather than the heat of passion. “What if that’s why this is happening?” Buffy asked. “Us, I mean. What if… maybe I don’t have a soul anymore, and that’s why –”

“Bloody hell, Slayer. Of course you have a soul.”

“How do you know?” She looked up at him, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

That brought him up short. “Well – I don’t, really.” He met her gaze. “But I know you, Slayer.”

“No – you don’t,” Buffy insisted. “Or you’d know that I’d never let myself love another vampire.” It was her first line of defense against Spike – pick a fight whenever he got too close. Distract him, drive him away, anything to keep him from sneaking into her heart the way he had been doing pretty much constantly for the past four days.

“Bollocks!” Spike growled, grabbing her by the shoulders and backing her into a tree. “I’m not him, and you bloody well know it.” She stared at him, startled by the sudden violence, her eyes wide, but not with fear. It was almost funny, in a way – ever since she and Spike had been doing… whatever it was they were doing, she seemed to be spending a lot of her time with her back up against the wall.

“And what’s more – you’re with me, and it’s because of what I am,” Spike went on, pressing himself against her, the tree bark digging into her spine. “Don’t try to deny it. Don’t tell me you don’t get off on it.” Just as he had in the Magic Box, one hand dropped to her crotch, where her pants were still damp from her last orgasm. He leaned in, so that his voice was a low rumble in her ear. “Don’t try to pretend you don’t come when I bite you.”

The way he said it, with his tepid breath on her neck and his fingers massaging her through her pants, it was almost enough to make her come right there. Then, he jerked his hand away, releasing her from his grasp as he backed up, leaving her panting with unfulfilled need.

“Go on,” he scoffed, “tell me there’s anyone else in the world can do what I do to you.” She opened her mouth to protest, but the only answer she managed was a choking gasp. He nodded once, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter and less taunting. “No one understands you like I do, Slayer. Thing is, I don’t think you understand me.”

“You’re a vampire,” she replied, distaste evident in her voice as she pushed off the tree to stand on her own two feet. Now that his tone was gentler and he wasn’t playing on her rough sex kink, she was finding it easier to regain her defiance and avoid that whole “melting into jelly” thing that was so inconvenient. “Evil, soulless killer. What more do I need to know?”

“So, that’s it?” he snapped. “You just write me off?” He lashed out angrily, swinging his fist but aiming at nothing. “What do you want me to do, Buffy?” he demanded. “You want me to get a soul? Is that what it'll take? Or will you just find another reason not to be with me?”

She stared at him coldly. “It's not like I'd have to look very hard.”

He froze, returning her gaze with a disbelieving stare of his own. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Hmm, let's see,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her head in thought. “You tried to kill me and all my friends on multiple occasions. Or, how about you murdered two Slayers – not to mention the tens of thousands of innocent people you've killed. Are those good enough reasons?”

“No!”

Taken aback, Buffy said, “What?” She hadn’t really expected him to give in, but even he had to admit those were pretty good reasons… right?

“Yeah, okay, I tried to kill your friends,” Spike admitted, pacing in front of her. “But how many times have I saved their buggerin’ lives since then? Helped save the bloody world, didn’t I? Oughta count for something.” He stopped pacing and whirled to face her, pointing an accusing finger at her. “And yeah, I’ve killed Slayers. Same as you kill vampires. We were enemies. It’s just how the game is played.”

“You think killing people is a game?”

“Oh, and what you do isn’t?” he scoffed. “Tell me you don't enjoy it.” She started to protest, but he cut her off. “Not the big, once a year ‘we all go to hell’ bollocks, but this…” He gestured around them at the cemetery. “Patrolling, scrapping with vamps every night. You love it.”

Leaning in close, Spike murmured in her ear, “Could feel it, when you were fighting me.” He pulled back so that he was looking her in the eye when he said, “We’re the same, you and me.”

“We are not the same,” Buffy replied, pushing him away from her. “I don’t kill innocent people.”

“Well, all right,” Spike intoned in a dramatic, operatic voice, looking up at the sky again as the mournful background music faded in.

“No stars tonight
The moon must hide
Can't bear to see my face”

He held his hand theatrically over his face, before dropping it to his side and turning toward Buffy, who rolled her eyes.

“So many moons have passed
So many suns gone down
Too much blood under the bridge
Too many worlds turned upside down”

“Oh, please. This is ridiculous.” With an exasperated shake of her head, Buffy turned to walk away from him, but Spike caught her by the arm, forcing her to turn back to him.

“Buffy!”

“What?” she snapped. “You're not sorry you killed them!”

“No, I'm not,” he admitted, as the background music changed, becoming more earnest and sincere. “I can't be sorry, Buffy. It’s just… what I am. Haven’t got a soul to prove to you…” He shrugged. “Besides, sorry gets you nothing, doesn't make up for it. Can't make up for it, can I?”

Buffy gave him an annoyed look. “What’s your point, Spike?”

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him as he sang, savoring the sweetness of remorseless violence.

“So many victims washing on the shores
An ocean of pure tears,
So many pleas for mercy, howls of pain
Intoxicating fears”

When he opened his eyes again, Buffy was staring at him. “You're disgusting,” she said, punching him in the nose and wiping the expression off his face. “You – enjoyed it.”

“Course I did.” Spike caught her by the wrist before she could land another punch, and then responded with one of his own. “Vampire, right? You gotta understand that, gotta know what I was to see that I've changed.” He kicked her in the stomach, knocking her backwards against the wall of a nearby crypt.

“This? This is you…” She shoved him away with a grunt. “…changed?”

Ducking a roundhouse kick, he snarked back, “You started it, pet.”

He knew he had to keep pushing her – he needed her to accept him, demon and all, or it would never be the relationship he wanted. He sang forcefully as they continued to fight.

“I used my body just like a bandage,
I used their bodies just like a wound,
And I'll never know where they disappeared,
But I can see them rising up out of my memories now,
Just like the demons rising up from a tomb...”

Just as he hit the word “demons,” he slammed her down on a large flat stone monument and backed away. She sat up slowly, taking the opportunity to regroup as he spoke.

“No soul, but I’m haunted anyway, knowing what you think of me. It kills me, Buffy – trying to be good for you.”

She looked up at him, her anger softening, and Spike knew that what he was saying had started to affect her.

Crouching in front of the monument on which she was perched, he said softly, “Buffy, the only reason I’ve changed is because of you.”

Buffy shook her head in denial, but he knew he’d broken down her certainty. “The chip…” she said feebly.

“Not the chip,” he insisted, rising to pace in front of her again. “May not be able to hurt people, but I could’ve done a fair bit of damage, yeah? Get minions to bring me food, do the dirty work. Hell, could’ve set fire to the whole damned town if I wanted to.” He watched her eyes widen, as though she’d never thought of the possibilities, of the ways he could’ve gotten around the chip’s restraints if he’d wanted to stay the Big Bad. “Didn’t have to switch to bagged blood. Didn’t have to help you and your bloody Scoobies, patrolling, fighting my own kind. Did it for you, pet. Wanted to prove to you I could…

“But there's no way ever to apologize,
Repent or make amends,
No release and no redemption,
And the hunger never ends...”

Buffy was surprised to find that she was holding back tears as she watched him. Spike was naked, vulnerable, exposing everything of himself to her. The man, the demon, and everything in between. She began to understand his struggle, his inner chaos, the way his love for her had made him more of a man, but not enough to quash the demon within. She saw him trying to reconcile his two dueling natures, to be the man she wanted him to be.

And she found it echoed her own struggle – her desire to give in to him, to surrender to the emotions she could no longer deny, even when every fiber of her being vibrated with the wrongness of it. Her senses screamed at her, “Vampire!” and her slayer-trained mind called him a killer, a murderer, worthy of her stake and nothing more.

But he was challenging her to see him, just as he was, not as measured against the benchmarks Angel had left, not as the Council had taught her to see him. Challenging her to forgive what he had done in his past, to love him for who he had become… for who he still might be, with her by his side.

“Spike…” she whispered, standing up to approach him, but he was already propelled into the next verse, the music swelling behind him, drawing into the big finale.

“And when I grasped for life,” Spike sang bitterly, reaching out a hand to clutch the air.

“I always killed the things for which I yearned
I wish to be a flame and reduce to ashes
But I have never burned”

His head tilted back, his arms spread as he sang to the sky, “I long to fly in total freedom, and yet these chains keep dragging me down.” Then, he fell to his knees in front of her.

“I want to be an angel or the devil himself
But I am nothing but a creature longing for the things I can’t have!”

He held his arms out, bearing his chest to her as though expecting a staking, stripped of all pretenses. Just Spike, beautiful, passionate, tender, reckless and fierce. Her lover, her freedom, her protection.

Buffy’s hand shot up to cover her mouth in shock. She took a hesitant step backwards, and Spike deflated, certain he’d gone too far, frightened her away.

Then, without warning, she dropped to her knees and fell into his arms. Her mouth found his, capturing him in a desperate, fervent kiss, and he could taste the salt of her tears as she collapsed bonelessly into his longing embrace.