They'd missed the bed, again - to be fair they hadn't tried very hard – and now they were both panting. Naturally Spike got his breathing under control first; it was mere habit anyway. He turned to look at Buffy, waiting for her to make eye contact. When she finally did he gave her a small smile.

"How about you hold me for a little while?"

"Uh, I should get going..."

She was obviously trying to come up with an excuse she hadn't used a hundred times before but couldn't seem to think of one, so she just shrugged.

"Why'd you want that anyway? We never do that."

Spike clenched his teeth.

"I mean it doesn't really go with your image, does it? The big bad, bringing chaos and destruction to the world, and now you want to *snuggle*"? Come on!"

She chuckled - and he exploded, fists and fangs, more deadly than she'd ever seen him, and the laughter died on her lips as she had to defend herself in earnest.

"What" - she hit him hard - "is fucking" - another blow - "*wrong* with you?!"

He kicked and lashed out, and she needed every ounce of slayer strength and slayer training to get the upper hand. She realized he'd never fought her for real before, full out, no holding back. When she finally had him under control she stared at his face beneath her, bloody and already bruising.

"Fuck you, Spike. You're completely out of your mind."

He turned his head, avoiding her gaze.

"Hey. Evil undead. Look at me."

Every bit of fight left his body. He just surrendered, obidiently looking up at her. She rolled her hips, but it didn't get the reaction she'd expected. She stared at him in shock as a single tear rolled from the corner of his eye and down his temple.

"What's wrong?", she echoed her own words from before - but it was gentle this time. Concerned. He didn't answer.

"You really wanted me to hold you. You were being serious."

Another tear, still no word.

"Why?"

He looked away again, and this time she let him, waiting patiently for him to answer.

"Because I have no sodding idea what that feels like."

Buffy stared at him, speechless, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Oh my god. Nobody has ever been gentle with you!" she finally managed, her voice hoarse.

His reaction made Buffy wish she could take back the words and swallow them unspoken: He was coming apart right before her eyes. And there was nowhere to run for him, nowhere to hide, no way to cover the complete and utter vulnerability her realization had caused. He'd never been this naked, this defenseless in her company. He didn't even cry any more. He simply went still. No word, no look, he wasn't even breathing. Could vampires go into shock? Why had Giles never told her that?

She got up, and he turned, still on the ground, his back to her.

"I don't need your pity, slayer. I get that you want it rough. That's fine with me."

"No! No, Spike, that's *not* what I want!"

He got up as well and faced her.

"Since when? All of a sudden you don't get off on beating me bloody any longer? Find your clothes and get bent. Or leave them and walk home naked, I don't care. Just take yourself out of my crypt. And don't come running to me when you feel like a little rumble. I'm done with you, slayer. I'm done."