A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beta, Immortal_Beloved :)



The moment seemed to stretch on forever as Buffy stared across the water into the piercing eyes of her former lover…supposedly dead, yet standing right there in front of her, undead as ever.

“Spike,” she whispered under her breath, too low for the others to hear her.

And then, the moment shattered.

The platinum-haired figure on the far shore suddenly vanished, slipping away into the shadows. Buffy blinked, startled, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. He was somehow alive, in spite of all she had heard to the contrary, and *here*, so very close…and he was running away? Was she really losing him again so quickly?

*Not if I can help it…*

“*Spike*!”

Ignoring the startled cries of the Slayers accompanying her, Buffy stood up in the boat, and, without hesitation, dived over the side into the icy water. The others tried to call her back, confused and fearful, but she swam for all she was worth, wide, powerful strokes carrying her swiftly toward the distant shore.

***********************************

Spike did not know what else to do.

What else *was* there to do when confronted with what was either an apparition or one’s beloved who was about to get close enough to see the pitiful state to which he had been reduced?

He ran.

A part of him was desperate to stop, to go back to her…but the greater part was terrified that she would take one disgusted look at the wreckage that was left of who he had once been, turn, and walk in the opposite direction. A picture filled his mind of her face and the overwhelming pity that would be her *best* possible reaction…and he simply could not stand it. Conflicting voices cried out in his head.

*Can’t let her see…can’t let her know that I’m not the hero she remembers me as…*

*But I need her! I need her so much…*

*She’ll leave me. She’ll hate me. She’ll be so disgusted and awkward and won’t even be able to look at me…can’t stay…can’t face her…gotta run…*

*Buffy, *Buffy*, I need you…please, please…*find me*…*


***********************************

Buffy reached the shore, soaked and freezing, but already running as her feet hit the ground. The voices of the other Slayers, now rowing frantically toward the bank and calling for her urgently, were distant…and utterly insignificant to her.

All that mattered was getting to him.

“Spike! Wait! It’s me…Buffy! Spike!”

A brief flash of white gold gleaming in the moonlight drew her, and she rushed in the direction from which she had seen it, calling out his name breathlessly every few seconds. She did not know why he was running from her, why he would not want to see her, and a part of her spoke up in warning, reminding her that finding him might not be the blissful reunion she was hoping for -- not if he did not want to be found by her.

*Doesn’t matter, don’t care. He’s *here*. He‘s *alive*…have to find him…have to *know* it’s really…*

“*Spike*!”

***********************************

He heard her calling for him, and the mere sound of her voice sent a bolt of agony through his chest that nearly dropped him to his knees right there, sucking the unnecessary breath from his body. After so long without her presence in his life, the knowledge that she was really there was overwhelming.

Spike longed to turn around and run the other way -- but his shame and uncertainty kept him running.

The invisible barrier around Rayne’s property stopped him in the middle of a clearing with no trees or anything nearby to serve as cover.

Panic built within him as he heard Buffy’s voice drawing nearer and nearer. She could only be a few hundred feet away now. Any moment she would catch up to him. In useless frustration he pounded the barrier with his fist, only realizing after he had done it that the shower of sparks that fell from it would only serve to pinpoint his location for the Slayer who was seeking him.

He whirled around toward the sound of her voice, peering through the darkness, trying to spot her.

“Spike! Spike, please, wait!”

The pleading note, the catch in her voice, tore at his heart, and for a moment he just froze, longing to go toward that sound.

Regardless, at this point…there was nowhere else to go.

**************************************

Buffy’s steps slowed to a halt as she entered the clearing and saw that the white-blond head she had been following had stopped moving, and her quarry was now facing her, standing stock still in the center of the clearing. In the clear, bright moonlight, the piercing blue of his glittering eyes was obvious, even from a distance.

As she slowly moved toward him, it occurred to her for the first time that it could be a trick -- a deception of some sort, designed to trap her. Ethan Rayne was, after all, a very talented sorcerer.

Her hand moved subtlely to hover over the battle dagger she wore on her belt, though she did not touch it, as she cautiously approached the still form. He did not speak, did not move, as she neared him, and his familiar, painfully dear features came into focus.

“Spike,” she whispered. “Oh, God…Spike…is it you?”

He did not respond, though by now she was near enough to see the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed reflexively and finally moved, taking a hesitant, jerky half-step backward, only to take it back again.

Her voice was hoarse, raw with longing and pain, and she barely recognized it as she whispered the question that filled her heart, the question whose answer would elate or devastate her.

“Is it you, Spike? Is it really you? Are you -- are you real?”

****************************

*Are you real?*

Spike could not stop staring at her, could not take his eyes from her wide, pleading gaze. Now that she was within his sight, he found that running was impossible. She was *here*, only a few short feet away…and he wanted nothing more than he wanted to be in her arms, to be *hers*.

“Are you real?”

He didn’t know what he was going to say, how he was going to respond, until the words had already left his mouth, aching and awestruck and haunted with memories of past love and present torments.

“I…I don’t know…but…but *you* are…aren’t you…It’s you…Buffy, Buffy, love…”

His words seemed to spur her forward, and she moved more swiftly toward him, her wary hand forgetting her weapon as she reached cautious, tender fingers upward toward his face, her fingertips brushing his cheek as he whispered her name in a voice that was thick with tears.

“Oh, Spike…Spike…” she whispered.

Tears filled her eyes, her heart swelling with a beautiful hurt as he leaned unconsciously into her touch, her hand cupping his cheek as his thick, dark lashes fluttered closed, forcing out tears as they did. The longing, the sheer need in his reaction touched a chord deep within her, and suddenly she could no longer stand to not have him in her arms.

*************************************

“Spike, oh, my Spike…”

*My Spike…*

*Hers.*

Spike felt something within him break as the Slayer’s strong arms suddenly embraced him, drawing him close to her. For a moment he felt his body instinctively tense in preparation for the pain it had come to expect with every touch; but then, he relaxed into her arms, his own arms wrapping around her, holding her close to him with a desperate intensity.

His face fell to rest in the crook of her neck, and he breathed in deeply, taking in the sweet, familiar scent of her for the first time in far too long. He felt her hands running slowly up and down his back and gloried in the sweet simplicity of her gentle touch.

They were both perfectly silent, too stunned for words, or questions, or tears.

For this intense moment, which neither of them had ever expected to have, it was enough simply to *be* in the other’s presence.

For that moment, the agony of the deception he had discovered mere hours earlier did not seem to exist. The slave compound, Giles’ betrayal, even his prolonged torment at Siron’s hands, seemed very far away, almost as if they had happened to someone else. It was almost as if all those things were nothing but a terrible nightmare, and he had awakened to find himself right where he had always wanted to be, where he belonged.

In his Slayer’s arms.

***********************************

Buffy was holding him, touching him, but she could hardly believe that he was there.

“Spike,” she whispered almost fiercely, running her hands over his body just to reassure herself that he was really real. “Oh, Spike…my Spike…”

Some tiny part of her mind was worrying, wondering how he had come to be here, *alive*, when she had believed him to be lost to her forever, and why, if alive, he would be *here*, so near to a demon slave ring’s headquarters; but, her heart was simply too overwhelmed by the beautiful shock of receiving him, back from the dead, to allow her mind to think too hard about it just then.

It was enough just to have him with her.

Just to be here, in his arms…where she belonged.

***********************************

Spike was blissfully lost, so deeply consumed with the scent, the feeling, the presence of the Slayer that he loved, that he almost didn’t hear it at first.

“Buffy, there you are!” a vaguely familiar female voice breathlessly declared as rapid footsteps stumbled to a halt beside them. “You gave the girls a scare…”

Spike jumped, looking up with apprehension at the girl who now stood a few feet away -- and his eyes widened with recognition. It was the Slayer he had helped to escape from Siron’s lair…the girl who had stayed by his side until he was safe…

*Safe…that’s a bloody laugh…*

…in Giles’ care.

Melinda, wasn’t it?

Just as he remembered her name, her eyes met his, and her face lit up in a brilliant, delighted smile. “Spike! Man, what are *you* doing here?”

And in that instant, faced with this link to his painful past and the present that had been swallowed up in Buffy’s embrace…the agonizing truth closed in on Spike again.

**********************************

Buffy felt Spike’s body tense in her arms at the same moment she heard Melinda’s voice beside her. She drew back, regarding the vampire with a concerned frown. Concern quickly became alarm when she saw the expression on his face.

Spike’s eyes were wide, terrified, and he was shaking his head slightly as he stared at the pretty black girl. A tremor began to go through his body as he began to fight to free himself from Buffy’s embrace.

“Spike…Spike, what is it?” Buffy whispered, bewildered by his reaction.

“What’s the matter with him?” Melinda asked anxiously, reaching out a hand to touch his arm, jumping back, startled, when he jerked it away. “Spike?”

“No,” he choked out, not taking his eyes off the confused young Slayer. “No…no…”

“Spike…it’s okay,” Buffy insisted. “Spike, look at me!”

But he did not seem to have heard her. Frantically he tore himself out of her arms with a frantic shove, pushing her away from him so hard that she stumbled backward a few steps before regaining her balance.

“Spike…wait…Talk to me!”

Buffy protested as he began to back warily away from where she stood beside Melinda. Cautiously but quickly, aware of how fast he could move when he wanted to, Buffy edged closer to Spike, wanting to stop him before he fled as he seemed poised to do. As she moved toward him, however, he shied away from her, clearly terrified.

“Spike…calm down…what’s wrong?”

He did not answer, only took a couple more backward stumbling steps before apparently realizing that he was not going to get far that way and turning to run as fast as he could away from them. That was the first time that Buffy noticed the large stone structure in the distance, eerily illuminated by the bright moonlight. A sick sense of dismay filled her as she realized that it must be Rayne’s slave compound.

*Why is Spike…why would he…?*

Her mind refused to complete that troubling, terrifying question, which had several possible answers, none of which could possibly be good.

“Spike!” she cried out, starting after him.

“What the heck?” Melinda wondered aloud behind her. “What in the world is he even doing here?”

Buffy suddenly froze in her tracks, her eyes going wide as the girl’s words reminded her that it had been Melinda’s presence that had set off Spike’s mysterious reaction. Without hesitation she spun around and stalked back across the clearing toward the confused girl. Melinda’s eyes went wide when she saw the fierce expression on the older Slayer’s face, and she took a wary step backward as Buffy reached her.

“You know him,” Buffy stated, not asking.

Melinda blinked. “Yes.”

“How?”

“It’s…it’s a long story…”

Buffy smiled, though Melinda thought uneasily that it was not really a very nice smile, as she spoke again in a commanding voice that put use to her full authority as the original Slayer.

“Tell it anyway.”