“Are you hurt? You’re not moving well.”

She tensed at his voice and gave a small sigh as she turned to face him.

“Yes, I’m hurt. So, please, just go.”

He was poised on the threshold, one hand on the door, his eyes fixed on her.

“I need to speak to you.”

“I-“

“Please,” he pleaded, his eyes shining with emotion, “It won’t take long.”

Something in his eyes stopped her from dismissing him- that and she had never seen Spike so quiet, so unlike his usual brash self. He took a step forward into the room and shut the door behind him and she found herself pulling her dressing gown around her tighter, arms crossed in front of her as she waited for him to talk. His gaze dropped to the floor and he ran a hand through his hair. She frowned, slightly unnerved by his quietness.

“Spike?” she prompted.

His eyes raised to hers, shining blue, filled with pain.

“’m sorry.”

She went completely still, watching him, her heart in her throat. He glanced up at her and then continued.

“I know it doesn’t mean anythin’...but I am. Wish I could take it back, you know.”

“It hurt.”

His eyes locked on hers and flooded even more with pain.

“I know. Never meant to hurt you. I just...” he trailed off, one hand moving to his chest, “I just wanted to find something to make it stop.”

He looked at her once more and she was floored by the raw emotion in those startling blue eyes.

“It hurts, Buffy. Seeing you...being near you...I still want you and I can’t make it stop.”

She bit her lip as it trembled and struggled to keep her gaze on him.

“I know I should go, but I just can’t. I feel like...like I need to be around you, even if it hurts.”

He gave a choked laugh and dropped his eyes to the floor.

“You should have just let him kill me. Would have made things so much easier for everyone.”



“No!” she gasped out, unable to stop her instinctual reaction to the thought of him not being here.

He raised weary, pain-filled eyes to her, searching her face for confirmation.

“I...I’m not ready for you not to be here.”

He nodded slowly, as if not quite comprehending, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He looked completely at a loss and she felt the same, tightening her arms around herself. She sighed and looked at him, studying his bowed head.

“I never wanted it to be like this,” she whispered.

“I know, love. It was me. Can’t switch the feelings off.”

“I know,” she sighed and they shared a tiny smile.

She fell silent but after a moment’s thought, spoke up again.

“Spike,” she called, and he raised those pained eyes to hers once more. If she hadn’t been convinced already, those eyes would have made her decision for her. She owed it to him – to both of them – to talk this thing out.

“I know we have to talk. But I…do you mind waiting?”

He raised an eyebrow in question and she glanced at the shower.

“I really need to wash up. But...will you wait for me? And then we’ll talk.”

He just stared at her for a long moment and she smiled slightly, amused at the sight of a speechless Spike. Finally, he shook of his daze and nodded. He moved towards the door but halted as she spoke.

“You can wait in my room.”

He turned a surprised look on her and she smiled wryly.

“As long as you behave.”

He gave her a tiny smile and then with a nod, left her alone.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


He was in Buffy’s room, her inner sanctuary...and he couldn’t sit still. Just knowing that she cared enough to hear him out had him on edge, watching for the other shoe to drop. Because Buffy, his Buffy, couldn’t really want to be anywhere near him now, after what he had done. He grimaced and shook the memory away, hating himself for being stupid enough to think a quick tumble with Anya would ease his pain. It did neither of them any good- he knew that as soon as their eyes met across the room as he was leaving. They were just as broken, as torn up inside as they had been before. Even more so, maybe. He had almost wished for death when Xander had been hitting him. Had wanted it like he’d never wanted it before. Anything to make the ache that he got whenever he thought of Buffy go away.

He sighed and shook his head again: he really was turning into a ponce. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed but almost instantly changed his mind, feeling that it was somehow sacrilegious. He found himself instead wandering around the room, taking in all the silly girly features of the Slayer’s bedroom. His eyes fell to the New Kids on the Block poster and he gave a little smile. Those precious few minutes of conversation about their respective décor had warmed him more than she ever could have imagined. Given him hope- only to have it dashed to pieces when she fled from him once more.

He smiled, more bitterly, and moved on, running his fingers over the dresser. Pausing for a moment, he leant against the dresser and just breathed in the pervading scent of Buffy - as if he didn’t know it well enough already.

Then there was a noise downstairs and he frowned, straightening as he heard a familiar - and not necessarily welcome - voice.

“Buffy?! I found Warren.”

It was the Whelp.

“Well, my face found him.”

He had a feeling deep down that this was not going to go well and he glanced at the window, tempted to make an escape before the boy could find him. But then he dismissed it, knowing that he might not get another chance to talk to Buffy if he left now. He froze as he heard footsteps on the stairs and pressed himself back against the dresser, as if he could hide in it.

“Buffy?!”

The sound of the shower was still strong and he frowned, knowing that this would not look good to the boy. He had left the door to Buffy’s room ajar and wished he hadn’t now as the footsteps moved towards the door. He let out a sigh as Xander pushed the door open and took a step forward, freezing when he spotted him.

“You!”

He saw the instant anger wash over the young man’s face and edged a tiny bit away from him.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Look,” he started calmly, “M’just waiting for Buffy. She told me to-“

Before he could finish, Xander had him by the collar and was shoving him hard against the dresser, toppling some of its contents to the floor.

“Why can’t you leave her alone?!”

“Look, I just came to talk.”

“You shouldn’t have come at all!”

He remained silent as the boy got up in his face, his eyes full of hatred.

“After what you did...”

“Look, mate, know I did wrong-“

“How dare you touch her?!”

He didn’t know who Xander was referring to now – Buffy or Anya – and sighed as he realised there was no way he was going to be able to calm him.


“How dare you?! You’re just a disgusting thing and I can’t believe she let you anywhere near her.”

“Xander.”

His eyes flew to the door and he gave a small sigh of relief as he saw Buffy in the doorway, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on her friend.

“I found this thing snooping around your room.”

He could have sworn he saw Buffy roll her eyes but thought that was too much to hope for.

“Xander, let him go.”

The boy only just seemed to realise he still had him by the collar and he released him, flashing a look of pure hatred.

“Buffy-“

“He was waiting here because I asked him to.”

“But...Buffy...why would you do that?”

She sighed and took another step into her room.

“We need to talk, Xander, that’s all,” she explained, throwing a glance at him, “We’re overdue for a talk.”

“You’re not going to forgive him, Buffy?”

“That’s between me and Spike, Xander. We just...we need to make some things right. And I think you need to do the same.”

“I don’t have anything to say to him.”

“I meant with Anya.”

Xander fell silent, completely deflated at the mention of his ex-fiancée.

“She hates me.”


He couldn’t but help at snort at that and the boy rounded on him, glaring at him, fists clenched.

“You think it’s funny?”

“You really think she hates you?” he countered, “Wish the Slayer could hate me if that’s what hate’s like.”

He threw a glance at Buffy but she looked away awkwardly, tightening her arms around herself even more. He turned back to the boy and rolled his eyes.

“Woman loves you. Wouldn’t be hurting so much if she hated you, would she?”

“Why did she let you anywhere near her then?” the boy bit out, but he could already see him wavering, desperate to believe what he was saying.

“Probably seemed like a good idea at the time,” he answered with a shrug, “Probably helped by the amount of whiskey we got down us.”

“But...you.”

“Look, mate, it was just a case of two hurting people, right? Wanted a bit of comfort. Didn’t help none, but we didn’t know that.”

His eyes flicked to Buffy and he saw her watching him intently, taking in his words. His gaze moved back to the boy and he saw the pained confusion on his face.

“It was you she wanted. I was just a poor substitute. Just like she was a poor substitute for what I wanted.”

He didn’t dare look at Buffy and kept his eyes on her friend.


There was a long silence and he watched the indecision play over the boy’s features. Buffy stepped forward then and placed a hand on her friend’s arm, drawing his gaze to her.

“You need to go to her,” she murmured, “Make things right.”

“She doesn’t want to see me.”

“Well, you did say she made you sick,” Buffy pointed out and her friend blanched.

“Buffy, I didn’t mean-“

“Well, you better hope so. Because that’s a real kick in the gut, you know.”

“Buffy, I-“

Xander reached out for her but she stopped him with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry about me. We’re good. Worry about Anya. You need to make things right, before it’s too late.”

“She doesn’t want to know.”

“You have to try. She has to see that you love her enough to keep trying,” she said, her eyes flicking to his and back to her friend again, “I’m not promising you a happy ending, Xander. But you have to try or you’ll just regret it.”

The boy nodded and drew the Slayer into a clumsy hug. He pulled back and glanced at him and then moved to the door. He paused though and turned back to Buffy.

“Buff, I forgot. Warren’s up to something. He’s got mega-strong.”

“I’ll deal with it.”

He nodded and with another glance between them, shut the door on them.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Now that she was alone with the vampire, she could not ignore the look he was giving her: a look full of hope and love. She met his gaze for a long moment and then turned her head, unable to bear it any longer. She smiled and moved to sit on her bed, raising her gaze to his.

“I’m sorry about Xander.”

“He’s got every right to be angry,” he answered, leaning against the dresser, those bright eyes fixed on her, “So have you.”

“I’m not angry,” she admitted softly, “I’m...disappointed, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are. But it doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen.”

“I know,” he sighed and then growled lowly, hitting the dresser, “It was so stupid! If I could just take it back-“

“You can’t,” she spoke up and he stopped, pained eyes finding hers again.

“God, Buffy-“

“But being sorry for it is a good start.”

He fell silent, studying her, his eyes piercing.

“Those things you said to the Whelp...”

She raised her head and gave him a ghost of a smile.

“Knew you weren’t going to let that go.”

“You know me,” he answered softly with a tiny shrug, his eyes never leaving hers.


She smiled gently and gave a little nod.

“So...” he continued in a low voice, “Does it mean something that I’m trying to make it right?”

“It does. But it doesn’t mean...It’s not that easy, you know that.”

He fell silent and she flicked her gaze to his before dropping it to her clasped hands.

“You can’t just... It’s not that easy.”

“I know.”

“I trusted you. And now that trust has to be rebuilt.”

She could feel his eyes on her and she forced her gaze to his. His eyes were shining once again with that mixture of hope and love.

“I can be patient.”

She raised an eyebrow and smiled widely and he shrugged embarrassedly.

“For you, I can be patient.”

“I can’t...I can’t promise you anything.”

He nodded in understanding and smiled wryly.


There was a long silence and then he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Well, guess I better let you get dressed... ’n go deal with Warren.”

“I guess so,” she sighed, meeting his gaze with a soft smile.

“You need any help?”

“No, it’s fine,” she got out immediately, before adding, “But thanks anyway.”

He nodded and glanced at the door once more, but still did not move. His eyes found hers once more and she forced herself to hold his gaze.

“I do love you, Buffy. Know you don’t want to believe it...and I know I didn’t exactly show it yesterday...but I do. An’ nothing’s going to stop that.”

“I know,” she whispered, a tremor going through her at the intensity of his words and his bright gaze.

He finally relented and nodded, pushing himself away from the dresser. He moved to the door but paused with one hand on it.

“You take care, Slayer.”

She nodded and gave him a smile.

“And if you ever need me, you know where I am.”

“I know. Thank you.”

With a tiny smile, he nodded once more and left her room, shutting the door behind him and leaving her feeling a mixture of bemusement and affection.


THE END