Author Note: I know I have other stories waiting to be updated, but this one came to me in a sudden flash of inspiration, so here it is.

Jealousy

Spike and Buffy were stood together in her hallway, for the third time that evening. He kept trying to get her away from her other guests, but especially from Richard.

"What's a matter, Spike, you jealous?" her voice was teasing as she said it, but Spike's face was like thunder.

"Yeah, alright, I'm jealous. O'course I bloody am. An' you would be, too, if you felt like I did."

Buffy rolled her eyes, but that only enraged him more.

"You listen to me," he demanded. "If you loved like I did, an' I was the one screwin' you around, I'd be the worst bloody sod in the world. But it's okay, 'cause it's you doin' it to me, and I don' matter, right luv?

"If I chased around, flirted with, or even idly toyed with the idea of lookin' at another woman, you'd damn near cut my balls off. You can deny it, but I know you would. An' what's more, you'd have every right to. Even if you're never mine, you know you got me. I'm yours, now. No going back. You know I'm all for you, heart and…" he floundered, suddenly, as he remembered his heart and his body were all he really had to give, and she already had both. There was no soul he could profess to give her. No matter, he pressed on. There was a lot he needed to get off his chest, and he was just getting started.

"Point is, it'd be wrong o' me to do that to you. It'd hurt you, an' it would kill me. So, no. I wouldn't go after any one else. Not now. Not while…" his sentence trailed off again. Not while what? They weren't together. Not really. But while whatever it was they were doing continued, he would never do anything to jeopardize it.

Buffy looked stricken at his words, and had opened her mouth to respond, but Spike still wasn't done.

"I jus' wouldn't, okay? But things are different for you. You don't have to meet the same standard. Can do what you bloody like, you can.

"As long as I'm your dirty little secret," he continued, the word 'secret' dripping from his mouth like poison, "You can bat me back an' forth. Do whatever you damn well please. An' I'll take it, you know I will. But you can't expect me to like it, an' you can't expect me not to be upset when yer clueless little friends are running around trying to find you a new boy right under my nose."

Again, Buffy tried to say something, but she was now lost for words. How could she explain her actions, let alone try and justify them? It pained her to admit it, even to herself, but Spike was right. If he'd treated her the way she had him… she couldn't even think about it. It would never happen. What she was doing was worse than how Parker had just used and discarded her, she realized, and that realization stung harder than she could have ever imagined. She knew he felt deeply, but those feelings never really struck her like this before.

"Spike, I-" she managed, before the look on his face made her words die on her lips. Now that his anger had passed, he was looking regretful. Scared, even. Did he really think she would call things off just because he'd stood up to her?

Buffy shook her head, disgusted with herself, knowing he had every reason to worry. Hadn't she told him a million times they couldn't be? He had everything to lose in what they were doing, and was getting nothing but abuse for it in return.

Somebody, somewhere in the next room, cleared their throat, and Buffy suddenly became aware how quiet the house had gotten around them. Fear flooded her, as she realized that Spike had not been discreet in his ranting.

Looking around, she now saw her friends at the door to the living room, looking back at her, expectantly. Before they could say anything, though, Spike jumped in and tried to explain his words away. He said they weren't real. That they were a joke. But no one was the least bit convinced.

Dawn stepped forward, out of the crowd, and said to Buffy, "Did you really do that? Are you really using Spike?"

"No," said Spike, interjecting again. "She's just… it's not!"

Dawn was shaking her head. Her eyes were glassy as she spoke again, "How could you?"

The words cut through Buffy like a knife. All this time she'd only given half of herself to Spike, unable to stop herself from not giving in at all, but paralyzed enough by fear of shame and judgment from her friends that she wouldn't let him the rest of the way in.

This shame and judgment was worse. It was from Dawn, who Buffy had expected to be the one to understand, most of all. And it was for the fact that Buffy was with Spike in a perverse way that was hurting them both, rather than for the fact that she was with him at all.

As the silent tension of the moment stretched on, Spike started in vain to explain things again; to minimize his earlier points, and to excuse Buffy of any wrongdoing. Why couldn't he just give up? Why did he always have to try and make things better, even when there was no chance? Buffy both loved and hated him for his tenacity.

"I'm sorry," she said to Dawn, tears slipping down her cheeks, as she completely ignored everyone standing behind her. They didn't matter. Not in this.

"Spike," she said, then turning back around to him. "C-could we talk? In the kitchen, maybe?"

He nodded, a horrible look in his eyes again. Like a man about to go to the gallows.

Without another word to anyone else, they walked into the kitchen and shut the door.

The moment it was closed, he began his apologies.

"Buffy, I'm so sorry. I never meant for them to hear; for them to find out."

The slayer was taken aback. Rarely had she ever heard him say sorry, and never like this.

"I said I'd never hurt you," he continued, "An' now look what I've done. Couldn't even last a bloody minute, could I?" He shook his head, his narrow shoulders slumped. "I'll go."

"No!" said Buffy, so instinctively and forcefully it made him stand up straight again. "You're not going anywhere. And you don't need to be sorry. I started this. Me."

"Buffy-"

"No," she said again, interrupting. "You've said your bit, and you're right. I've been awful to you."

"I am a monster," he said, in her defense. But that excuse was getting old.

"I was the monster, Spike."

"Was?" he questioned, having picked up on the past tense of her statement.

"No more," said Buffy, and he all but deflated before her.

"William, I'm sorry. Doing this, it's killing both of us. I see that now."

"Don't," he said. "Please, don't."

"You don't owe me anything. You have every right to go out of here and never see me again, but…" Buffy swallowed. "But, I'd like to fix things."

Spike's eyes lit up, but they were still heavy with disbelief.

"I'm serious," said Buffy. "No more teasing. Let's do this right."

"But what about…" his eyes drifted to the closed door, silently finishing his sentence for him.

"Forget about them. I can't do it without you. I don't want to, but I will. If you don't want…?"

"Buffy!" he exclaimed, stepping closer to her than he had allowed himself to, all through the rest of the conversation. He got on his knees, at her feet. "Buffy, don't you know I want nothin' else but you?"

They were both crying now, as Buffy rested her hand on his cheek.

"Forgive me," she asked.

He gave her a weak smile, then rose to his feet again, their lips meeting.

The kiss was tender, like it had never been before between them.

Buffy tangled her arms around Spike, and he held her back just as much.

Then, when the kiss ended, her head nestled against his chest and rested there.

"Spike," she breathed, knowing what she had to do.

"Yeah, luv?"

It was easier, him not looking at her.

"I love you," she whispered, into the crook of his arm.