It was a quiet night for Buffy Summers as she patrolled. She moved swiftly and silently among the gravestones, her eyes constantly roving. However, that night it was as if she was looking without really seeing. She wasn't in it that night, her mind wandered elsewhere.

It was well after midnight and with the lack of dustings she could have easily gone home and called it a night but she didn't want to. She couldn't go home yet. She couldn't face them all over again.

Despite orders to get to bed on time Dawn would still be awake, awaiting her return home. Making sure that it wasn't all some sort of sick dream, her sister being alive again. Or else Willow would hurry up to her as she walked through the door, asking how things went and asking one too many times if she needed anything.

It got so old.

She was so tired of being treated as if she was somehow mentally unstable, as if she might crack at any given point in time. She knew they talked about her behind her back. In their hushed tones, as if somehow she'd become deaf during her absence from the world of life and couldn't hear them. They wondered if she was okay. They hoped she'd snap out of the stupor she'd been in ever since she came back. Buffy knew they were expecting thanks for what they'd done for her. She gave them their wish. From her lips came a sweet lie, the thank you they had desired. The credit they had wanted for pulling her out of Hell.

If only they knew the truth, Buffy thought with a humorless smile as she twirled the stake in her hand.

She vividly recalled waking up abruptly in a closed casket underground. It was like being an infant ripped from its new mother's arms. She was lost, helpless, terrified. Claustrophobia had never been a problem for her. But it was then. The casket was in too close all around her. She panicked when she realized just how soon asphyxiation would come. She remembered the fierce struggle to break out of the ground. However, it wasn't any better when she was free. The world was too loud, too bright, too violent. Being among the living was her Hell.

Only Spike knew the truth of it all. Only he knew that she'd been yanked from the loving embrace of what she believed to have been heaven. Only he knew that she now lived in Hell. Her friends could never know. It'd be a secret. She could never put the weight of that kind of knowledge on their shoulders. They'd only been doing what they thought was right. They'd brought her back out of love, thinking she was suffering the horrors of some Hell dimension.

She told Spike because she'd wanted to get it off her chest. She wanted someone to know, someone who wasn't involved in the process. She just wanted someone to understand what she was going through. It was enough. Maybe there were other reasons for telling him that she didn't quite understand yet. But for now…it was enough.

A gentle breeze began tugging at her clothes and hair as she walked on. She let her feet carry her without really paying any mind to where she was going. She found herself outside of Spike's crypt. Then, without thinking, she knocked.

"I already told you this crypt is occupied, so you can piss…" Spike flung open the door. "…off," he finished quietly. He looked positively flabbergasted at the sight of Buffy standing there before him.

"Expecting someone else?" Buffy asked quietly. She was uncomfortable with the look of genuine concern for her on his face.

"What? Oh!" Spike exclaimed suddenly remembering the unfriendly greeting he'd accidentally given her. "Had a demon come by last night, looking for a place to hide out, thought he might have come back…come in then," he said standing aside.

She felt his eyes on her back as she walked inside. Everything looked the same inside. The same beat up old armchair and TV, the same dank and dusty crypt. Spike shut the door behind her then turned to face her.

It was obvious he was uncertain how to go about talking to her, especially after her little confession to him outside the Magic Shop.

"So…how are you holding up, Slayer?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I keep getting asked that in some way, shape, or form everyday. I'm fine. I'm getting better. It's not as if I have a choice."

"Is that why you're out? Getting away from them all breathing down your neck?" Spike asked, giving a small, knowing smile.

Buffy nodded. "I mean, I know they all mean well but I'm just getting sick of it all."

"So you're still not going to tell them the truth?" Spike asked.

Buffy's eyes flashed as she moved towards him. "No," she snapped. "And you promised me…"

"I know," Spike cut her off, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I know. I keep my promises Buffy. You should know that."

"I know you do," Buffy sighed running her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry I snapped. Look, I want to thank you for what you've done. Taking care of Dawn like that…protecting her while I've been…"

"Dead," Spike finished for her.

Buffy stared off over his shoulder considering the word for a moment. "Dead." She repeated firmly. "Anyways…it means a lot to me."

"Hey," he placed his arms on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "There's no need to thank me, Buffy. I don't mind. I'd do anything you ask of me," he said, eyes softening.

She wasn't used to that look. She was more used to the look of intense lust and need in his blue eyes. But lately she'd just been seeing the compassion in them…it overwhelmed her to know that he could care.

Before she knew it she'd kissed him softly on the lips. She looked up at him, his surprise was very obvious. Before he could say anything she kissed him more forcefully than before, with need. It didn't take him more than a moment to respond in kind. She placed her hands on his chest and backed him up against the wall.

She'd been so numb. She just wanted to feel.

His body was pressed against hers as she buried her hands in his hair. His hands began to roam her back. He began to kiss her neck, trailing his lips and tongue all down the side of it. Buffy felt alive.

Then suddenly she snapped out of it. She realized in shock just what she'd been doing. How close she'd come to making a mistake. She pulled away quickly. Spike wiped his mouth and looked at her in confusion.

"Buffy what…"

"Please Spike…don't say anything. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen," Buffy said quickly, trying to make it to the door.

Spike walked after her grabbing her arm. "But Buffy…"

"Spike!" Buffy interrupted him, raising her voice. "Please. I don't want to get into this. It was a mistake. I'm not ready to deal with this kind of thing. I'm just starting to rebuild my life I can't do this! Let's just…let's just pretend this never happened," she suggested desperately, yanking her arm out of his grasp and opening the door.

"Pretend it never happened?" Spike demanded incredulously. "Buffy it did happen and I think there's something to be said for it."

"I didn't mean it," she said quietly. She turned back around to face him.

"I think on some level you did, pet," he tilted his head to the side giving a very familiar, knowing smirk. She shouldn't have been surprised. Even if he had good qualities this was still Spike, the same Spike that had been obsessed with her. "You can't deny it."

"I don't know what I meant. I don't really understand why I did it. I don't really even understand myself yet," she replied in all honesty. "But I just know I can't deal with this now, Spike. I don't need this right now. Please…can we just forget about it, pretend it didn't happen?"

The pleading, desperate look in her eyes must have resonated with him. Maybe he felt a bit guilty. Either way he wiped the smirk off his face and gave her a slight nod. "If that's what you want…we can pretend it never happened."

"It is," Buffy said nodding. She started to walk out the door when she paused and looked over her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she added.

She shut the door behind her and walked home. That night she truly felt alone in the world.