Disclaimer: I own nothing except the original ideas that allow me to play with these characters.

Buffy was exhausted. The evening had seemed to go on forever and her emotions had run the gamut from adrenaline-fueled, terrified, guilty, hatred, relieved, and guilty all over again for different reasons. In the moment, it had felt right to take it all out on Spike. He had been asking for it just as much as she was giving it, and just like he had taken every bruising kiss, scratch across skin, and so much more, he had taken her punches.

After she had realized she was innocent, Buffy had first checked on Dawn and felt the relief of being home. Stripping off her clothes, she stood under the stream of hot water for a good long while before cozying up under her sheets, attempting to stop shivering from the cold and the idea of what could have happened, what she might have done. But then, as her eyes flickered shut, she remembered what she had done.

Her conscience alert again, she dragged herself out of bed and back into the dreaded alleyway to find Spike gone. The blood stains left no long trail, but she hit up all of the spots he might have been, his crypt, Willy's, finally landing back at her own house, behind his tree, but he wasn't there. With a promise that she'd look harder the next day, Buffy had fallen back into bed, her heart beating more fiercely than she'd like to admit.

The night turned into day, day turned into many, into weeks, and she had yet to find him. They all made comments, Xander about the solitude of the undead finally realizing they weren't welcome, Willow more curious, Tara and Dawn showing concern, and Anya with an odd sense of appreciation for him giving up and moving on. Buffy expected him to pop up eventually, at the Magic Box, the Bronze, on patrol, her house as he did most days, but when he didn't appear at her birthday party, her worry turned into panic.

Despite herself, Buffy patrolled more to find him than to slay the vampires and demons of the Hellmouth in which she didn't share a love-hate, complicated relationship. There was still no sign of him, and she had paid special attention to the tinglies that would appear at the back of her neck, waiting and hoping, squinting out into the darkness of her yard, but still nothing. She was three weeks in when she stopped by his crypt, at this point just to take a private moment to herself, as she had now grown accustomed.

Standing outside, the sound of movement in the crypt made her heart wrench with something akin to hope, so she didn't even mean to barge down the door in an aggressive way, so much as hopeful.

"'Allo there, Buffy. Doing ok?"

Stomach sinking, Buffy forced a smile at the wrinkly demon she had met during the disastrous kitten poker game. He had his arms up in a protective stance, but his voice was calm.

"Clem, fine. And you?"

"You know, same old-"

"Sure, sure. Well, actually, Clem, why are you here? Spike-"

"Told me I could stop in from time to time, keep an eye on things. Not sure when he'd be coming back, so he needed someone to keep things in order."

"But he will be? Coming back I mean?"

The look Clem offered was far too understanding for Buffy's liking.

"Said he would and I have no reason not to believe him."

"Would this be in demon years or more like human?"

Clem chuckled, his eyes softening.

"Can't imagine it'd be much longer. He seemed motivated to get back here."

Buffy sighed as she took this in. She was conflicted, as she was so often when it came to the vampire. Relief that he had left on his own accord and not from some violent action, anger that he had left at all, hurt that it had of course been because of her, but hope that he would be coming back. Sitting down on the couch she had so often glanced at with disdain, yet had somehow come to feel cozy and comfortable in a not singularly physical way, she put her head in her hands and tried to clear her thoughts. She, and this was difficult to admit to herself, let alone out loud, missed him very clearly in this moment.

"Any idea why he left in the first place?"

"Said he had to see someone about a girl. Had to give her what she deserved."

"Did he say what that might be?"

"Think you might have a better idea. Do anything particularly deserving lately?"

"Can think of a few things."

Buffy's tone was bitter and sarcastic. Frowning, Clem shook his head, a finger raising to his chin, which would have been comical had Buffy not been so disconcerted.

"Now that I think of it, he did mention something about a chip. How it wasn't good enough anymore, holding him back or something. Does that make any sense to you? I just assumed he meant of the potato variety, but-"

Cold swept through her, her stomach dropping, heart thundering with the realization of what he must be seeking. Buffy glanced up at Clem who had returned to his more relaxed state and situated himself on the opposite side of the couch.

It had been years now since she'd viewed him as anything more than an annoying, constant, somewhat comforting pain in the ass. In her mind, all she could picture was the face of the vamped out, bleached-blonde threat standing in front of her, snarling about how he couldn't wait to kill her. It was one thing that he could hurt her for whatever reason, but to be unleashed, and with renewed determination and motivation, he'd be unstoppable.

Leaping off the couch, Buffy rushed to the entrance of the crypt, stopping and turning back towards Clem as an after thought.

"If you see him, you'll let me know when he's back?"

"Uh, yeah sure," but Buffy could tell that it wasn't exactly a promise. His initial hesitance and failure to meet her eyes let her know that Clem had picked up on her defensive mode. It was with an odd sense of comfort that she realized Spike had at least one friend on his side. She just hoped he hadn't blown it by getting his chip removed.

Spike lay in the belly of the airplane, barricaded in place by the excess of luggage people assumed they needed to bring with them everywhere. His stomach called for blood, limbs ached, head swirled, undead heart broke, and yet, it was his newly restored soul that overtook his entire being. He had done it for the girl, to be better, to help her, to understand her pain, not just take it any longer. Lying in that alley, seeing the dead expression behind her eyes, he had realized the error in his tactics. He shouldn't have been dragging her into the darkness with him, and he couldn't ask her to bring him into the light with her, she was barely there herself anymore. No, Spike had to seek it himself, to deserve it, to deserve her.

Except now that he had it, the soul, something that had seemed so simple in the abstract, blinded him, shaken him to his core. It was a conscience he sought, the ability to fully appreciate the depth of human emotion, but all he found now was grief, pain, and it killed him to know that Buffy couldn't even feel that any longer.

He knew, he knew, he knew, he didn't deserve her at all, but here he was, flying back to Sunnydale because he had nowhere else to go. And didn't that just make him want to dust into a million little pieces.