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Chapter One
 
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A/N: Many to thanks to dawnofme for her wondeful beta work. I've completed the story, and the rest will be posted once the chapters are all cleaned-up. Reviews are welcome and much appreciated.


“Ok,” Buffy said into the mirror and tried her best to put on a resolve face, “what doesn’t kill only makes you stronger, so let’s get this strength-getting started.” Any hint of resolve melted into uncertainty and sadness.

Two hours had passed since she ended her “relationship” with Spike. When she had walked out of his crypt, Buffy had expected relief to flood her system. Instead, she had experienced emptiness, a piece of her felt high-jacked.

“You were using him,” she told her reflection. She had to end things with Spike. Being with an evil, soulless creature had dragged her into blackness that threatened to engulf her. A twinge of guilt struck as she recalled the expression on his face when she had called him “William.” She had seen his heart shatter.

Why did she care if she hurt him? He was soulless, after all. Her laughter broke the silence of the room. No one could look into those eyes—those too-blue, penetrating eyes—and say that a vampire couldn’t feel. He was no thing--no creature beneath her.

Buffy pulled herself off the bed and away from the mirror on her nightstand. She walked to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. After rummaging, she found the black shirt and held it up to her nose, inhaling every bit of the smoke, whiskey, and earthy smell of her vampire. The scent took her back to the night, when in his impatience to have her, he had ripped her shirt and camisole to shreds. He had professed his love so many times that night, made her feel adored, wanted, desired, and safe—yes, she felt safer with a master vampire than she had since her return. How did she repay him? He won a punch to the nose and a few harsh words in the morning.

Her eyes glistened with tears as she fingered a hole in the shirt, probably obtained from a patrol with her. After all he had done for her—standing up to Glory, trying to save Dawn and then watching over her after death, and the countless times he was just there for her—she still treated him like gunk in the bathroom drain. Of all the people around her, Spike was the only one to let her be, never expecting her to be happy when she wasn’t and never demanding she return his love.

The tears fell down her cheeks as her eyes opened. After being abandoned numerous times, she had finally found the one who wouldn’t leave—who’d be the man she needed. The realization of why she kept him at a distance and treated him like nothing crept into her mind. If she pushed him away, he couldn’t hurt her. In doing so, she had wounded him deeply. She cringed as the images of his beaten and broken face bombarded her brain. He had only looked that terrible once before—after Glory had tortured him for information about Dawn. He hadn’t let her down then or since.

Her thoughts briefly jumped to her friends. What would they think of her? A smile spread over her face. Suddenly, what they thought didn’t matter. Spike did.

Buffy tossed the shirt on the bed and brushed her hair. A resolve face formed. She let out a deep breath and left to find her vampire.


Spike paced in his demolished bedroom. He kicked the rubble that littered the floor and muttered under his breath.

“Stupid bint—thinks she can just end things like that? Who does she think she is? I have feelings too, you know.” A low, harsh chuckle escaped his lips and echoed off the walls. His fist met the wall, causing a slight crack in the rock and a wide gash on his knuckles.

“That’s right,” he said, “I don’t have feelings. I’m an evil, soulless thing that’s too far beneath Miss Holier-Than-Thou Bitch to matter.”

His shoulders slumped. Spike’s anger twisted and faded until he became somber. After staring at his bleeding hand and watching the red nectar drip onto the ground, he walked to the bed and dropped onto the edge. The battered frame groaned under his weight and leaned to the side but was left unnoticed.

He clenched his jaw to keep the tears from leaking. “I don’t deserve her,” he whispered to the room. She treated you horribly, a voice reasoned with him. Spike shook his head and dismissed it.

Buffy deserved to be happy, to be in the light where she belonged. He tried to drag her in the dark and bring her down to his level. He should have encouraged her to be in the world and find that passion he always admired even in the days when he wanted her dead at his hands. Even though her friends were a bunch of wankers, he should have pushed Buffy to reconnect with them. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so ashamed of him.

“Bloody unlikely,” he laughed. “Always gonna be ashamed of me. A tarnish on her light, I am.”

Still, he craved her, desired her, and most of all, he loved her. He wished she could see that.

“I’ll have to show her—prove to Buffy I can be the man she deserves.” Spike leapt off the bed and scanned the room for his duster. Spotting it on the bedside table, he scooped up his second skin and slipped it on. He walked a few steps and stopped. Patting down his coat, Spike found his pack of cigarettes and put one in his mouth. He struggled with his Zippo—fingers not still enough to flip the lid—but he managed to light it and take a long drag from the filter as he thought of ways to open her eyes.

After grinding the butt into the ground, he hurried up the ladder but fell flat on the floor when he met a figure.

“Bloody hell, Clem! Don’t sneak up on a bloke like that,” he gritted out while wiping the dust off his jeans.

“Sorry, Spike,” Clem said with a slight grin. “I figured you knew I was here, vampire senses and all.”

Leaping out of the hole brought Spike beside the demon. Spike snorted a laugh when he noticed Clem’s hands full of beer and cheesy chips.

“I must have forgotten our date,” the vampire said. “I’m hardly dressed for such an occasion.”

“Well, there are some movie marathons on tonight, and I thought we could hang. But you must have something pretty heavy on your mind to have missed me, not to mention the chips.” Clem gave the bag a pat. “These puppies are extra saturated with the orange stuff.”

Walking past him, Spike grabbed a cup of blood off the TV and took a swig. He slammed it back down and said, “Yeah, I’ve got a plan going and some business to attend to.”

“What business?” Clem asked, opening the bag and stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth.

“Going to see a man about a girl,” Spike said. “Can you watch the crypt while I’m gone?”

Mouth full, Clem mumbled, “Sure.” After swallowing a bit, he added, “This girl wouldn’t happen to be the Slayer, would it?” Spike raised his brow, and Clem said, “Right.”

With a nod, Spike headed out the door. All he had to do was grab his bike, and he could be on his way to proving himself to Buffy. He halted at the spot where his ride should be. He walked back into crypt and saw that Clem had already made himself at home.

“Clem, did you see my bike when you came in?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I saw a vamp with it, and he said that the Loan Shark wanted to fix it up real nice for you.”

Staring up at the ceiling, Spike muttered, “Oh balls.” Louder he said, “And you didn’t think that seemed a bit dodgy?”

Clem shrugged. “Seemed alright to me.”

Spike sighed. “Train station it is then.”
 
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