Disclaimer: Me? Own Whedon's characters? Ha! More like they (along with Whedon himself) own me!

A/N: This is my first story for the Buffy fandom but I was dreadfully bored in my three-hour night class the other day and this idea just wouldn't leave me alone.

M, if you're reading this, just know I am working on my other story still. Come on, we both knew this would happen eventually.

Spoilers for seasons six and seven.

~Rose

Time and time again Buffy had to save the world. She had stopped more than one apocalypse (how many people get to say that?). She'd been doing this for seven years; she certainly was not new to the game. What she hadn't experienced before was this much pain. It wasn't the physical type—that she could handle. No, this time it was different.

The light emitting from Spike and the amulet was near blinding. Buffy had never seen anything quite like it before and she had been doing this for a long time now.

She didn't know what was going to happen in the future—hell she wasn't even sure what was going to happen within the next few minutes—but she did know that everything was about to change. She doubted they were going to get out of there alive but she was damn well going to try.

The world was literally crumbling around them as the girls rushed to get out of there. Soon only Buffy and Spike were left in the hellmouth. All she could do was stare at him in fear for what this amulet was going to do to him.

"Go on then," he told her, wanting her to get out of there before she died as well.

"No," she told him, more emotion in her voice than she had intended, "No, you've done enough. You could still—"

He cut her off before she could finish. "No, you've beat them back. It's for me to do the cleanup."

More walls started crumbling around them as Faith shouted out for Buffy to get out of there. "Gotta move, lamb. I think it's fair to say school's out for bloody summer," Spike added.

All she did was say his name but Spike didn't remember ever hearing her sound so worried when it wasn't about Dawn.

He held out his hand to stop her from getting any closer as he told her, "I mean it! I gotta do this."

Buffy took one look at his outstretched hand and laced her fingers in between his. They barely even touched before their joined hands burst into flames.

The previous year when Xander had been the cause of the demon Sweet coming to Sunnydale causing them all to burst into song Broadway style, Buffy had sung about the fire freezing her; she certainly didn't feel cold now.

Thoughts of the champion in front of her filled her mind enough that she could forget the world was falling apart around them. There was only him.

They had spent the last three nights together and Buffy treasured those more than she should. She had been right there with Spike that first night when he said it was the best night of his life. The following two nights were right up there with it as well.

His words had moved her more than she wanted to admit. The way he had looked into her eyes and spoke those words that had given her so much strength was overwhelming.

"I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the one Buffy."

She had told him she didn't want to be the one. He then made her laugh and reminded her that everyone has crosses to bear. He was right; she was the chosen one—the slayer. That couldn't be helped. She just wished she hadn't let it consume her like she did.

Last night she had been a little more bold, seeking Spike out, knowing that she wanted to spend what might be their last night together.

"I'm sorry," he had whispered as she began to fall asleep in his arms.

"What for?"

"You know what for, pet."

She did. She knew exactly what he was apologizing for. They tried not to bring up the incident from last year. She hadn't forgotten, she couldn't forget, but he was a different man now than he had been then. She would never excuse what he did and she didn't want to sound like one of those girls, claiming that he had "changed", but he really had.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he told her, "but that's life innit. You act like a prat, make a wrong bloody call, and ruin what you had"

"You never had me Spike," Buffy told him even though she knew that wasn't really true.

"No one knows that better than I do luv," he replied sadly.

They shared a silent moment—just staring into each other's eyes—before Buffy reached out to lightly touch Spike's face. Moving even closer, Buffy lightly took his mouth with hers. The kiss didn't last long but it was by far the most intimate kiss they had ever shared. They had experienced countless passionate kisses during their brief period as "lovers" but this was different. This was soft and tender. It wasn't lust; no, it was much more than that.

"I love you," he said, gently pressing his lips to her hair. It felt so final.

Back in the present, Buffy and Spike's hands were still joined. In that moment she knew. Looking him in the eyes she softly said, "I love you."

His eyes softened. He wanted it to be true but he knew it wasn't. "No, you don't. But thanks for saying it."

There was another earthquake and Buffy was forced to let go of Spike's hand. "Now go!" he demanded as she sadly started running up the stairs. "I wanna see how it ends."

She knew she couldn't look back. She couldn't save him. That was the life of a slayer—save the world, no matter what.

She only wished she had believed her final words to him.

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