A/N: So, I don't know exactly what this is, but I just finished watching Buffy for the first time, and now that it's over I feel the need to write… Anyway, I'm up to continuing this as a story/drabble series if people would be interested in reading, so let me know! Also, this takes place after the end of the TV series.

Enjoy =).

She was maddening.

Spike slammed his fist into the rough wall, barely noticing the pain of the impact.

She haunted him - the longer he stayed away, the more she entered into his thoughts. He couldn't shake the memories of her passion, her wit, the feeling of his lips against hers on that one last night they had shared before the most recent apocalypse. Before he had died. Again.

He knew that being here, being where she was, was a bad idea. Still, he was keeping his distance from her, just watching her from afar. It made him smile to see her in charge of all the newly activated Slayers, to see her confidence in her new role. However, the situation reminded him of when he had fallen in love with her years ago and was confined to watch from the outside, unable to be a part of her world. He hated that he was forced to be that silent observer again, to be her shadow, doomed to love but never to touch.

Logically, Spike knew that he could go to her. He would tell her about how he had been resurrected; they would have a good laugh and reminisce about the good old days back in Sunnydale before the destruction of the city, but then what? What place did he have in her life now? She had moved on, had found a new life for herself. And here he was, hanging out in a crypt in a cemetery that was nearly the spitting image of his old one back in Sunnydale.

This is how it was supposed to be.

He was a creature of the night; she was the Chosen One, the embodiment of good.

Spike punched the wall again, feeling the rough rock tear his skin. He didn't care. Compared to his emotional pain, the physical discomfort seemed inconsequential.

It was a bad idea to come back to her. But he had needed to see her, had needed to know that she was okay. And, even if he didn't want to admit it, there was something that drew him to her so strongly that it was impossible to resist.

She had said she loved him.

She hadn't meant it.

He raised his fist to attack the wall again, needing to express some of his frustration through the only means available to him.

A crash sounded at the entrance to the crypt, startling him. He froze and listened intently. With the number of Slayers wandering around, he wasn't too eager to run into the pointy end of a stake before he could explain about his soul. As miserable as his existence could be, he had tried the dying thing and it wasn't nearly as fun as it sometimes sounded.

He heard a moan of pain. Clearly, whoever was invading his space was injured.

With a sigh of frustration, Spike silently cursed himself for falling so hard for a human that he had to go get a soul with a guilty conscience that was currently telling him he had to make sure the intruder wasn't dying.

Stealthily, he crept towards the entrance, careful to keep to the shadows just in case the injured person had brought a healthy Slayer friend.

The sight that met his eyes nearly stopped his heart - in a figurative sense since his heart had stopped beating centuries ago. "Buffy?" he whispered before he could stop himself.

The figure looked up. It was unmistakable - the blonde hair, those beautiful eyes. It was her.

"Spike?" she asked weakly, her voice weak. Her eyes searched for him, but he could tell that the pain was clouding her vision. "Spike?"

"I'm here, pet." Spike rushed to her side, all thoughts of being cautious or staying away from her fleeing at the sight of her crumpled on the crypt floor clutching her side. "What happened?"

"You're dead," Buffy muttered. She was barely intelligible and he could tell that she was fighting to hold onto consciousness.

"Have been for a while," he joked lamely, hesitating before laying his hand on her arm, carefully moving it aside so that he could see her wound. Even the slight contact made him draw in a sharp intake of breath, remembering vividly the last time they had touched, the time when she had said those three words he had always wanted to hear. "It's a bad one," he told her, taking in the sight of the blood staining her tattered shirt around the stab wound in her side. "But you've had worse." The smell of her blood intoxicated him - he could always smell it, even through her skin, but it was stronger now.

"How..?" she tried to ask, her eyelids fluttering frantically to stay awake.

Spike chuckled, a forced sound, as he willed his face to stay human. "Didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you? We vampires are really good at…" he paused to pull off his black shirt and rip a strip off the bottom to use as a bandage, "...not dying. So are you, come to think of it."

She didn't respond. Glancing at her, Spike saw that her eyes were closed. He sighed heavily and gritted his teeth. Her wound, well it was bad and likely very painful, was nothing to worry about as long as he stopped the blood flow - her Slayer healing powers would take care of the rest. No, his reaction was born of the frustration of being here, of being with her, and still knowing that this was it. These were the only situations he would ever get to see her - in battle or in pain. Never in love.

With deft fingers, Spike treated her wound, carefully peeling the fabric of her shirt away from the stab wound and then winding the makeshift bandage around her torso. Despite the intense temptation, he restrained himself from touching her more than strictly necessary - he refused to take advantage of her. He wasn't that man, not anymore.

Then, the blood flow staunched, he picked her up carefully in his arms, holding her slightly away from his bare chest and trying to keep his thoughts far away from the sensation of holding her, of seeing her vulnerable like those night where he had held her as she slept. He put her down on the flat surface of the central tomb, and then, resolving to watch her all night in case she showed signs of further distress, he retreated into the darkness.

That was where he belonged.

…

Buffy felt herself slowly coming back to consciousness. With a groan, she forced her eyelids open, but immediately regretted it as waking up immediately reminded her of her fight from last night, the one that had obviously wounded her badly if she still felt this sore after a night's sleep.

The sight above her was unfamiliar - she was not anywhere she recognized. So, where was she?

Pondering that question, Buffy tried to sit up, but immediately felt a stabbing pain in her left side - it was fitting. After all, she had been stabbed. More carefully this time, she managed to swing her legs over the side of what appeared to be a raised tomb, her fingers gripping the edge as a reaction to the pain of moving.

She was in a crypt.

As soon as she realized that, memories came flooding back.

A vampire - a powerful one. Not as powerful as she was, but powerful enough to get a lucky shot in just before she staked him. Wounded, she had crawled to a crypt, a crypt that had reminded her of Spike's old place.

And Spike had been there.

Buffy frowned - that couldn't be right. Spike was dead. She had watched him die, watched his sacrifice. But she clearly remembered his touch last night, his words… Shaking her head, she forced herself to stop thinking about him, to move on. It was clearly the pain creating a state of delirium and making her see things she wished were true.

With a hiss of pain, she jumped down off the tomb, her hand automatically going to her injured side. Her palm grazed fabric - fabric coarser than the shirt she was wearing. Curiously, she looked down, her eyes widening as she saw the black fabric wrapped around her torso.

Spike.
It was impossible.

Hardly daring to hope, Buffy looked around the tomb. "Spike?" she called tentatively.

There was no answer, and Buffy had to fight to contain her sudden flash of disappointment, even though she had known it was impossible. If he was here, he wouldn't be hiding from her. There had to be another explanation.

Moving carefully to make sure she didn't reopen her injury, Burry left the tomb, forcing herself to forget about Spike and to focus on everything she had to do.

The Slayer didn't have time to drown in emotion.

…

Spike watched her leave with a heavy heart. When she called out to him...it had taken everything he had not to respond, not to run to her side and take her in his arms and kiss her.

He wasn't the one for her - he knew that. But it still hurt to see her walk away.

Please review and let me know if I should write some more on this!