She didn’t know when exactly he’d moved them from their position on the floor to his bed in the lower level of the crypt. It didn’t matter to her, though. The few thoughts that crossed her mind throughout the night had been so strong and consuming that there was little room for her to think about anything else. She wasn’t even aware of the amount of time she’d spent in his arms, sobbing herself to exhaustion, releasing her heart from its self-inflicted constraints. It all had made her tired, desperately so. She felt like she hadn’t slept in weeks, which, she mused, was probably pretty accurate considering her post-postmortem insomnia.

Realizing she must have dozed off for a while, she began to stir. Her eyes felt dry and scratchy, and she could feel the drenched cloth of Spike’s t-shirt under her cheek as proof of her breakdown. Her entire body, she realized as she shifted a bit, felt sore and stiff from hours of not moving. Spike had had her wrapped securely in his arms the whole time, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other stroking her hair while her head rested on his chest. A part of her took comfort in the safety he’d provided her, enough of her to allow him to continue doing so for a while after she woke up. Eventually, though she admitted to herself the position was comfortable, her muscles demanded movement.

Placing her hands on Spike’s chest, she gently pushed herself back, glancing at his face to see if he was awake. He was.

“Hey, pet,” he said softly. He offered her a bit of a smile.

“Hey,” she responded with a raspy whisper. Her throat was a little rough from crying. “What time is it?”

“Few minutes before dawn. You’ve been asleep for hours.”

Frowning, she looked at the dark stain on his shirt, touching it and feeling the evidence of her tears. He seemed to understand the unspoken question. “Didn’t help you to stop…”

She found herself looking into his eyes, as she often did. She could always read him the best when she looked into his eyes. Usually she saw his lust and passion, and every now and then the love he had for her would force its way to the surface for a fraction of a second. In that second, she’d look away from him, and either hit him or run away. Sometimes both.

But now, looking into his eyes, she could see underlying sadness and understanding, but most of all, love. He made no attempt to hide it, and for some reason, she made no attempt to push him away. Maybe it was because of what she’d done to him. Or maybe it was because of what he’d done for her in return. Or maybe… she didn’t let herself finish that thought, instead began to push herself out of his arms so she could sit up. She felt him tighten his hold on her for an almost imperceptible moment, before releasing her altogether. Gingerly, she stretched her legs and arms out, rolling her neck to relieve some of the tension there. Rubbing her eyes for a moment, she finally looked back to Spike.

“How did you know? The things you said last night… about me… how did you know?”

Seeing her perplexed expression, he shrugged. “I recognize in you a lot of the things I see in myself.”

Buffy frowned. “I’m not like you.”

Spike chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head. “No, pet, you’re not. Not in the way you’re thinking anyway. I’m meant to be in the shadows. You’re meant for the light. But the one thing we have in common is that neither of us is in one or the other.”

She said nothing, but he knew she understood him. Giving her a reassuring smile, he tentatively took her hand. “You see? We’re more alike that you think.”

In that moment, she felt herself truly connect to Spike in a way she’d never connected to anyone before. Her heart warmed, and her eyes felt fixed on his. Electricity seemed to spark from their joined hands, and she felt it go up her arm and throughout her body. She knew exactly what she felt, and exactly what he was feeling. For an instant, she wasn’t alone. And it terrified her. Jerking her hand away, she stood up, ignoring the protest of her stiff muscles at the quick movement, and stepped away from the bed. Away from Spike.

“I am not like you.” She spat at him, shakily.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Both seemed shocked at the sudden change of mood. Once her words settled in, Spike was quick to act. In a flash he was off the bed and right in front of Buffy, glaring resolve in his eyes.

“Neither of us can help the things that were done to bring us here. I didn’t ask for this chip in my head and you sure as hell didn’t ask to be brought back. And now we’re both stuck in this bloody limbo, but you won’t even admit that to yourself, will you?”

He took a step closer to her and continued, not giving her a chance to respond. “There is nothing I can do about this chip. It’s in my head for sodding good now. But you…”

He looked down, a moment of clarity striking him. “You could make it out of this,” he whispered, too quietly for her to hear. Looking up at her, he gave her a pleading look. “Buffy…”

He reached out a hand to cup her cheek, but she jerked away from him the instant their skin touched, solidifying the need for what he was about to do. Nodding solemnly, he returned his gaze to the ground, speaking softly, but firmly. “Don’t come to me again until you tell your friends about us.”

Buffy paled at his words, not believing she’d heard him right. “What?”

He looked up at her determinedly. “You want to atone for what happened in that alley the other night? This is my price. Tell your friends about us. Until then, don’t come around.”

The world slowed around her. It felt like everything was at a standstill. She couldn’t tell her friends about her and Spike. There was no way they’d understand. They’d only judge and look down on her. But what was there to understand, anyway? She and Spike didn’t have anything together. So why did the thought of never being with him again make her feel like she couldn’t breathe?

Her mind was running in circles, he could tell from the way she was looking at him. He knew that it should give him hope that he was doing the right thing, but he was terrified. Still, he held his resolve, not allowing her to see his indecision. After moments that felt like hours, she nodded and walked away.

He stayed motionless until he heard the door to his crypt shut with a squeak. Closing his eyes slowly, he let air flow through his nostrils and into his lungs, trying to calm himself. Opening his eyes, he walked over a table that held a bottle of Jack Daniels and a table lamp. Stopping in front of the bottle of alcohol, he smiled humorlessly. He reached a hand toward the bottle, but quickly changed its direction, grabbing the lamp and smashing it against the wall with a roar. Paying no mind to the shattered lamp, he grabbed his bottle of JD and took a long pull of the fiery liquid. He made his way over to the bed and plopped down. He took another swig of his whiskey as he sat, deep in thought.

That night had been the best of his life. To hold her, to be able to comfort her. She’d actually slept in his arms. But the second she was reminded of what was holding her back from him, she pushed him away, and rejected his attempt to help. She was beyond the point of anyone holding her hand through this. She would have to figure it out for herself. He hoped to whatever god would listen to him that he’d done the right thing. He prayed that it wouldn’t blow up in his face.

~*~*~*~

A/N: Hey guys. I wanted to thank SpikesKatMac, Inzey, and Kim Adams for reviewing the first chapter :) You guys really made my day!