AN: Some dialouge taken from "Lessons" and "Beneath You."
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Spike sighed as he shut the door. He hung his head, and Buffy could see that he was leaning heavily on the doorknob, grasping it with both hands and using it to steady himself; it was as though he didn’t trust his legs to hold him, “How can she sleep?” he asked, “I haven’t slept…not really. Not in….” his voice trailed off and he shook his head. Buffy waited for him to finish, but he didn’t. He remained silent. He was at a loss. Clearly he’d forgotten. It had obviously been a long time since he’d had any rest at all.

Homer had told her as much. He needed to rest.

A painful memory came screeching out of the depths, and threatened to swallow her.

A darkened chapel. A cross. And, the smell of burning flesh.

“Can we rest now, Buffy? Can we rest?”

She’d frozen then, but not now. She couldn’t freeze up now. She owed him, so much.

“She can sleep because you’re here. You were her protector,” she said, smiling sadly, “And, you did a good job, Spike. She’s strong, opinionated, resourceful, and alive.”

Spike sighed, “Just like her mother.”

Buffy sighed, grateful that he wasn’t looking at her. She was nearly in tears looking at him. She hadn’t slept either, but she wasn’t sure if he would understand that she couldn’t sleep without him now, “Yes, just like her mother,” she admitted softly, “And her Daddy.”

“What do I do now?” his voice seemed far away, “I used to know…”

X’yxeth-

The Zazlak was the largest of the predators. It was at least twice his size, and very strong. It commanded respect from all the other beasts. If it were possible for him to kill this beast, his status among the animals would be elevated, and nothing else would dare to threaten his youngling.

As he crept into the lair, he could hear the roar of the thing’s breath. The urge to flee was nearly overwhelming. To quell his fear, he held his javelin tighter in his grip. If his aim were true, there would be no question what was ruler here.

The beast was asleep. Its black and green scales wound lazily around the fire pit of its cave. The snowfall forced the poisonous reptile to seek warmth. This was to his advantage. If he stayed near the mouth of the lair, the Zazlak would be forced into the raw elements. Although the cold did not affect the beast inside of him, his foe was quite different. The cold made it slow and dim-witted. It was his only advantage. And he would use it, to protect his youngling.

He stood at the mouth of the lair and let his beast howl.

The Zazlak turned its red eyes to the intruder. The warmth of the cave enabled it to move swiftly, expanding to its full height of twelve feet. It straightened its wings, preparing to take flight.

In order to take to the sky, it would need to leave its lair. When it got to the mouth of the lair, it felt the sting of the javelin that had found its mark.

The Zazlak was felled.

He could still feel the javelin in his hand; the wood, which had worn his fingers to bloody shreds with its splinters as he fashioned it, and stone spear had become a part of him, like a second skin.

It was familiar. He knew it. As long as he had that weapon in his hand, he knew what to do. It had never failed him. Never. But now, that certainty was gone.

“…I killed them, the monsters,” he whispered, “With my own hands.” Buffy watched his left hand drop to his side, and reflexively form a fist, as if it were closing around an invisible weapon.

Buffy felt a lump rise in her throat as a strange empathy came over her.

Like me and my stake…

“I killed them all,” he continued, “ because I could. She was so small. So small…and there was no one else.”

Buffy felt a pang of guilt. She remembered what Angel had told her about the years that went by so fast there, where he was. She remembered what Stephen had told her, and the anger he felt when he got back to his “Dad.” Anger he felt because he had lived in fear for years.

Did Spike feel that anger? Was he angry with her because she’d let him turn her away, not once, but twice? Was he angry with her for leaving him alone-again?

She knew she had to be patient. Giles told her to wait, to let Spike come to her. Let him tell her what he needed. But, he had spent so much time- maybe hundreds of years- alone. Maybe he didn’t know how to ask for help…because there was no one else.

He’d stepped up and been her hero when she didn’t know she needed one. It was time.

Buffy swallowed her fear…and stepped up.

Time to be his hero.

“Spike…?” she breathed, hoping that he would trust her enough to let her help. Her heart caught in her throat when he looked at her. The despair in those blue depths was almost unbearable. “What was it like for you?” she wondered, “How long were you gone?”

Thousands of emotions seemed to war inside him as he stared at her, and they all showed themselves on his face. They were all there.

Fear.

Hope.

Love.

Hate.

Sadness.

A deep, deep sadness wrenched itself from his heart, and made itself known in his voice as he spoke the words Buffy never thought she would hear, “Buffy, help me. Tell me how to live…here. I don’t know…How?”

Suddenly, she found herself rushing toward him, holding him. And strangely, as she felt him lean on her, as she led him to their bedroom, she felt a sense of happiness. A happiness so deep and so profound that she found it hard to keep from laughing. She couldn’t laugh. She knew he wouldn’t understand it, but she felt happy that he was letting her show him, in this small way, how thankful she was to him. In this small way, she was thanking him for things she had never thanked him for before.

She knew she could take whatever was going to come.

They reached the bedroom, and when Buffy opened the door she let him go, gently, and not a bit reluctantly.

Her heart ached as she watched him drift aimlessly into the room and sit on the bed that they’d barely had time to share.

She closed the door softly behind her.

He looked so meek as he sat on the bed. That was an image Buffy knew she wanted to erase from her mind. She wanted him to be strong, to be who he was.

But, who was he, now?

How could she make it better for him?

“Do you want me to…leave you?” Buffy’s throat tightened, even uttering the words; too many bad memories, “Let you rest?”

“No!” Spike hissed vehemently. Buffy was shocked by the rage his voice held. His eyes were full of fire, so intense that it took her breath away. The fear of losing her was clear in his gaze, it was shattering, his fear. He must have read the shock she felt, on her face, because, immediately his eyes fell, and he stuttered, “P-please don’t go.”

“All right.”

“Buffy,” Spike breathed raggedly, his eyes still on the bedspread, “you asked me how long.”

“I did,” Buffy whispered, as she walked to the edge of the bed and knelt in front of him, dreading the answer, “Do you want to tell me?”

His eyes remained hidden from her, “I don’t know,” he said, “How many years? Jonina…? How many…here?”

Buffy’s forehead creased a little, trying to discern his meaning. She bit her lip. How long was a year, where you were, Spike? Did they even have years? “Jonina looks…about eight,” she said.

Spike looked up, his eyes were questioning, “Is that long?” he asked.

“Sometimes.”

His head tilted quizzically, “ ‘Sometimes?’”

The familiar gesture made her want to laugh. That meant that the Spike she knew might still be in there. She smiled a little, “Sorry. I know it’s confusing,” she took a breath and nodded, “Yes. That’s a long time. But, I know you were gone longer. Weren’t you?”

“I don’t know. Before she came, it was cold, and dark. She helped me…survive. The beasts…and the cold…the death…”

Buffy took Spike’s hands in hers, and gave them a slight squeeze, trying to reassure him, “Go on,” she prompted, “I’m here.”

Spike’s eyes shone, and his voice was filled with awe as he spoke, “Yes, you are. The fire took you from me. It blinded me,” he held her hands to ground himself, to help him believe that she was real, “I tried to stop it, but I wasn’t fast. I’m not a quick study, Buffy…”

Buffy’s heart seized as another memory slid into place. Spike, lost and insane, in the school basement.

“I’m not fast. I’m not a quick study. Don’t you think I’m trying?”

“…You died, and then the cold took over. The beasts wanted to kill me, and I did not want to stop them. I wanted to die, Buffy. I tried to make them…But,” his hand left hers, and gripped at his chest, “the animal inside, it wouldn’t let me. I went on…didn’t think. Couldn’t. Until he came.”

“Homer?” Buffy asked.

Spike nodded, “He came. And, I couldn’t understand him. But, he was like you. The pounding, the sound…reminded me of you. He talked to me, even when I couldn’t speak. He understood me, and the beast, in ways that no one did. There was no one else. He brought her, and she made me warm. She brought me light. I knew I had to protect her, and I did.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Then, he told me you would come and take her from me,” Spike’s face crumbled as he relived the pain he’d rather have forgotten; he averted his eyes, overcome with shame, “ You came and took her. You took my light away, and, I hated you for it,” he choked, “Even though I knew it had to be, I still hated that you took the warmth with you. I’m sorry, Buffy.”

Buffy listened, silently taking it all in, and trying to reconcile it with what she knew. Homer had said that Spike was alone, and had been for years, long enough that he’d forgotten his own name, or even how to speak. She didn’t think it was even possible, but here it was, from Spike’s own lips.

What Homer and Giles said was true. And now, Homer was gone, and Giles was in Rome, so far away…

“I’m sorry, Spike,” she was horrified at what he’d been through, but she had to help him, “Tell me what I can do…to help you.”

“It was so much easier when he was here…” his voice was heavy with tears and repressed anger and hurt.

There were years of hurt that Buffy knew she’d never be able to touch. She knew that he would never let her in completely, because she knew that he saw her as one of the reasons he’d been put in that Hell. After all, she’d given him the amulet, when it should have been Angel.

She wanted to help, but all she could do now was listen. “…But now he’s gone,” Spike was saying, “Homer’s gone…and I’m so tired. I should have known. He’s family. Kin. I should have known, but now, I can’t protect her. Buffy, I don’t know how. I don’t know what…” his voice trailed off, despondent.

“Shh,” Buffy whispered, taking her hands from his and gently pushing him back against the pillow and bedspread, “you don’t have to protect her anymore. I’ll do it. You lie back and rest. You’ve earned it.”

Slowly, Spike’s body began to yield, and he reclined on the bed, sleep quickly overwhelming him. Buffy sighed, grateful that he could trust her enough to sleep, and began to get up from her knees. The slight movement awakened him, and he grasped her arm tightly, “No, Buffy. Don’t go!” he said, desperately.

Buffy stood there for a moment, looking at the anguish that was expressed by the lines on his face and in his eyes, and she knew that she couldn’t abandon him.

She nodded, and silently climbed onto the bed next to him.

She held him for a long time, thinking of all that he’d gone through. She knew that Giles would know more, and she would call him. Tomorrow. Liam might know something too, but right now, none of that mattered. What mattered now was keeping the people she loved- Joni and Spike- safe.

Nothing else was more important.

And, as Buffy felt Spike’s arm tighten around her waist, and listened as his breathing fell into that gentle, unnecessary, purr that was so familiar to her, she smiled.

She had succeeded, at least for now. He knew he was safe. Safe enough to let the world off his shoulders, and fall asleep in her arms.