Part Six

Inside Willy's, between a small pool of Xander's blood and a group of angry looking demon bikers, Buffy sat across from Spike as they drained their glasses.

When they'd first entered, Buffy had ordered several drinks at the bar, adding them to Spike's tab, before using Willy's private line to call Giles and then Xander.

From what Spike heard of Buffy's side of the conversation with his enhanced vampire ears, she was not angry. That had surprised him, but he was still wary when she first brought the alcohol to the table.

"If you're gonna stake me or tell me to get the hell out of town, could you do it now and save me the torment?" he requested, before adding, "Not that I don't deserve torment, o'course."

Knocking back her first swig Buffy had said, "I think we've had enough torment to last a lifetime. Several, in fact."

Spike nodded, grimly, but said nothing until Buffy threw him a meaningful look.

"What?"

"What you just said, did you mean it?"

"What?" he said again.

"About leaving. If I asked you now, would you?"

He paused to think about it before deciding, "Yeah, I would." And once more he was surprised, because Buffy didn't look happy about his answer. She didn't remark on it further, though. Just took another drink.

They were silent for a bit after that. Spike took his first sip as Buffy downed her forth, wondering if he should suggest she slow down.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, then.

He simply raised his eyebrows in question.

"You're worried I'm gonna get drunk and throw myself at you again."

Spike shook his head and set his glass down.

"You didn't-" he began, only to be cut off by Buffy insisting, "Yes, I did. I was big with the throwing."

"But it wasn't-"

"I know," said Buffy, interrupting again. "I'm not blaming myself, just saying it how it is."

That forced Spike back to silence. His lips pressed tightly together, he asked himself again why she wasn't angry. Perhaps she was still depressed? He got the feeling she was coming out of the blues at the end of last year but then, with what happened happening, and the loss of Tara – another good soul added to the list of many gone too soon – he wondered if she ever really got out of the slump. She didn't seem depressed, but maybe she just became a better actress in his absence.

"How come you're not asking me if I got the jacket on purpose?" he enquired, after a while. In truth, he didn't want to talk about it, but the question was driving him mad, locked in his head, and he felt the need to let it out.

Buffy shrugged in answer, but he knew that trusting him was not a topic she was nonchalant about. Still, he didn't call her on it.

"Where did you get it, anyway?"

"Clothing bin," he said. Then, when she didn't seem to know what he meant he added, "You know the big metal things – er, dumpsters? but not quite – that you put clothes and shoes in, for charity?"

"Right, yeah," said Buffy, before then letting a look of confusion overtake her again. "Why were you near one of those?"

It was Spike's turn to shrug. He was embarrassed about having to steal – and wasn't that a laugh! – but he knew she'd get the truth out of him eventually one way or the other.

Taking another drink he said, "Kinda stumbled into it, and I'd been wanting some new gear, jus' couldn't afford new stuff, is all."

"Oh," Buffy blushed, then said, "Sorry."

Taken aback, Spike now wondered if she was under an entirely new spell. "What the bloody hell you apologizing for, Slayer?"

But she was ignoring him, digging in her purse. Having retrieved a slightly torn twenty-dollar bill from the mess she kept in there, she then presented the note to Spike and said, "I didn't mean to make your bill so high."

Incredulous, he didn't make a move to take it from her. And, after the awkward moment went on too long, Buffy called over Willy and told him to take it off the tab before Spike could stop her.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Because you're broke," answered Buffy. "I know what it's like."

"No, not the money. This."

"What?"

"Bein'…" god, he hated himself for saying it, "Bein' nice to me."

Buffy looked at him, confused, before saying, "It's you."

"My point exactly."

Sighing, Buffy said, "I have no problem with you." And, at that, Spike stood up in disgust.

"You what?!"

"Spike, sit down, you're making a scene."

"Making a-? Bloody hell, Slayer. What's wrong with you?"

Yanking him back down into the seat across from her, Buffy said, "What's wrong with me is that you're freaking out."

Spike opened his mouth to respond to that, but then shut it again without saying anything. He was dumbfounded.

"I'm not mad with you," said Buffy.

"Well you should be!" Spike insisted, raising his voice again.

Glaring at him, she said, "I'm the one who gets to decide that."

"But how are you not angry?"

"I am."

"Come again?"

"I'm furious, just not with you. Like you said, you found the jacket. You didn't seek it out. You didn't make it."

"But-"

"But nothing," Buffy interrupted, "You were a victim as much as the rest of us."

Spike shook his head but, when it looked like he was going to stand up again, Buffy put a hand on his and carried on.

"It's not the first time either of us been controlled by a spell," she said, but the memory of all their happy wedding plans didn't make him feel any better.

"It seems to me," Buffy continued, "That we just keep ending up together."

"I'm sorry," said Spike, but Buffy ignored it and carried on.

"My first year of high school Xander got possessed by Hyena people and tried to rape me."

Spike's eyes went wide at the sudden revelation, and his nostrils flared, but before he could react verbally, Buffy hit him with the next bit.

"I fought him off, obviously, and when the spell was broken he lied and said he didn't remember anything about it. I forgave him. Y'know why?"

"It's what you do," said Spike trough gritted teeth, almost as if he was angry with her for her merciful nature.

"Because it was a spell," she said, "He wasn't in control of himself. And then, about a year later, he did a love spell. Had everyone after him, including yours truly. Under that spell I threw myself at him and-"

Buffy broke off at the murderous look in Spike's eyes, then quickly added, "And he turned me down. The spell wasn't for me, but did he want me, and he did say no, and I forgave him."

If anything, Buffy's tales had only made Spike feel worse.

"I didn't turn you down," he said, shamefully.

"But you did," Buffy reminded him. "Several times. It was me that-"

"No!" said Spike, almost yelling, before adding in a broken voice, "It wasn't your fault! The jacket… I took it, and I shouldn't have. It was me. I did that to you - again!"

He was crying as Buffy took hold of his hand and looked deep into his eyes.

"You didn't know," she said, "And I don't blame you."

"But you should. You should!" he insisted.

"No," said Buffy, firmly. "I don't regret what happened. I regret the way it happened, sure. But if sleeping with you is the worst thing that ever happened to me then I call that a win."

Hating himself for it, Spike cried harder. "You shouldn't make light of it. It was wrong."

"Yeah, it was wrong," Buffy agreed, suddenly serious again. "But it happened, and dealing with it is really all we can do now."

With doe eyes, Spike looked at her in total awe. After a minute, when he trusted himself to speak, he said, "What do you suggest?"

As if she'd rehearsed it, Buffy said confidently, "We finish our drinks, I go to sort things out with my friends, we all have an early night, a fresh start in the morning, and take things one step at a time from there on out."

And now, with their glasses empty, Buffy got to her feet and held out her hand.

Spike was impressed that she had got a lot better at having alcohol in her system. Reluctantly, he took her offered hand and stood up himself.

"Xander's not gonna let me stay with him anymore, I reckon."

"You let me deal with Xander," said Buffy, brushing it off. "If he really has a problem with it then we have room in our basement."

"Right," said Spike, forcing himself to ignore the cocktail of emotions her words induced. Not least of them, fear.

They walked half the way home in silence before Buffy broke it saying, "I've missed you. Dawn has, too."

"Buffy, I..." Spike began, but he was at a loss for how to finish the sentence. Finally, though, he came up with, "I've missed you, as well."

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"I spoke to Angel about you getting your soul."

That flattened him. Whatever Spike expected her to say, it hadn't been that.

"Yeah?" he said again.

Buffy had stopped walking, and was now looking him directly in the eye.

"Angel says no one else has ever done that. And I don't mean completed the trials. No one even started."

Spike was speechless, and not at all sure where she was going with the topic.

"It means a lot," she concluded, finally. "An what I saw of you today – even though I was blinded by magic, I could see how you love me hadn't changed. I…" now she struggled for words. "I think you actually love me more. Than without the soul, I mean."

Spike simply nodded.

"I could see that," said Buffy. "Although things were messed up, what we did, that meant something to you."

"Meant everything," he affirmed, so quietly she almost didn't hear him.

Looking heartened, Buffy said, "Yeah. I… it does."

What was she saying? he thought. He didn't dare to hope that, despite everything, he still meant… something to her.

He didn't ask, and they started walking again, but when they got to right outside the door Buffy said something else:

"I think we've got a long way to go, in sorting things out. But… I want to."

The End.