After she and Spike had been shown to their rooms, Buffy's exhaustion caught up with her. She merely kicked off her shoes, then collapsed into bed. She was just beginning to doze off when a soft knock was heard at her door.

"Mmmmf," she whined, then sighed and got up to open the door, revealing Tara on the other side.

Buffy's brows wrinkled in confusion. "Tara? What's up? Is everything okay?"

Tara nodded. "Oh yeah, everything's fine. I just, um, well I've been trying to talk to you about…that thing you asked me to check up on..?"

Flash of recognition. "Oh! Oh, yeah, come on in, Tara." Tara walked in and Buffy closed the door behind them. They walked over to the bed and sat on the foot, facing each other.

"Well I guess I'll just get right to it. I've double-checked everything." Tara smiled warmly, "There's nothing wrong with you."

Buffy's face remained expressionless. "Then why can Spike hurt me?"

"Well, I said that there was nothing wrong with you, but…you are different. Shifting you out of…f-from where you were…funneling your essence back into your body, it altered you on a basic molecular level. Probably just enough to confuse the sensors or whatever in Spike's chip. But it's all just surfacey physical stuff," she quickly reassured. "It wouldn't have any more effect than…a bad sunburn."

Buffy looked down as it sunk into her brain. No…it can't be that… "I didn't come back wrong?" she asked softly.

"No you're the same Buffy. With a deep tropical cellular tan," she finished with a smile, hoping for some levity.

Buffy looked back up at Tara, tears shimmering in her eyes. "You must have missed something. Will you check again?" she asked tremulously.

Tara frowns in concern. "Buffy, I-I promise, there's nothing wrong with you."

"Well, there has to be!" she whispered desperately. "This just can't be me, it isn't me." She began to weep softly, it's just too, too much. "Why do I feel like this? Why do I let Spike do those things to me?"

"You mean hit you."

Buffy met Tara's eyes then, with a look of despair that Tara had never before seen in her. "But more importantly…why do I do those things to Spike?" her voice cracking on his name.

Tara's brows knit in confusion. "Oh…Oh! Hmm…really…" as she realized what she meant.

"He's everything that I'm supposed to hate…everything that…I'm supposed to be against." Buffy could no longer hold in her tears, and they began flowing freely down her cheeks. "But the only time that I ever feel anything is when…when I'm with him!" She looked back up to Tara almost desperately. "Don't tell anyone, please."

"I won't," she assured her.

"Oh, they way they would look at me…I just c-couldn't…" she choked back a sob.

"I won't tell anyone. I wouldn't do that."

"Why can't I stop?" she whispered. "Why do I keep letting him in?"

"Do you love him?" Tara asked tenderly.

Buffy could only stare back at her.

"I-it's okay if you do. He's done a lot of good, and…and he does love you. A-and Buffy, it's okay if--"

"It's not!" Buffy cut her off. "It's wrong. I'm wrong," she says forcefully. Then her shoulders begin to slump forward in defeat. "Tell me that I'm wrong, please…" she leans forward into Tara's lap, sobs overtaking her. "Please don't forgive me, please…please don't…"

Tara didn't know what to say, didn't know if there was anything she could say to help her friend. She'd never seen someone so distraught, and she didn't need to see her aura to know that Buffy was at the end of her rope. So she simply let her cry, stroking her hair in an effort to bring some kind of comfort. After several minutes, the tortured crying had almost stopped. Almost.

Buffy slowly sat up, wiping at her face. She refused to meet Tara's eyes. If she saw the pity she knew would be there, she didn't think she'd ever stop crying. "I, um…I'm sorry about that," she said, voice rough with emotion.

"Buffy…" Tara tried to reassure her.

"No…really. I'm okay. I think…I think I just need to take a hot bath," she said dully as she stood up from the bed.

Tara followed her. "Well, okay. If you're sure. I mean, I could stay here if you needed to talk. I really don't mind…"

"Thanks. But it's really not necessary. You should get some rest, too. I'm sure we have some long researchy days ahead of us," she said lightly, though her back remained turned, as she was rummaging through her suitcase and removing her toiletries.

Tara frowned, not convinced for one moment that Buffy was okay, but not knowing what else to offer besides her presence, which Buffy made clear was not wanted. So she simply walked out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

As soon as Buffy heard the latch click into place, she deflated, sighing heavily and sinking down onto the floor next to her bag. She wearily ran a hand over her face. She was exhausted. Too much emotional stress for one day. She wasn't sure if she had the energy for that bath. She shifted uncomfortably in her clothes, dirty and damp with sweat and…other things. Nope. She definitely had the energy. She got up and removed her clothes, piling them on the floor at least three feet away from her clean clothes.

The bathroom was wonderful. Everything was spotless porcelain and the tub had Jacuzzi jets in it. She couldn't wait to try those out. However, in her current state, Buffy thought she might fall asleep in said tub and drown, so she opted for the shower instead. She turned the water on and waited until it was steaming before she stepped in. Oh yeah. She could get used to this. Even after thoroughly scrubbing her body and hair clean, she stood under the hot spray for a good ten minutes, letting the water relieve the tension from her body.

By the time she got out, she felt like a new woman. She even felt like some of the weight had been lifted off her shoulders by telling Tara about her and Spike. She wiped the condensation off the mirror and stared back at her reflection. She was still too thin, and she had dark circles under her eyes. But still, she felt…almost good. She smiled slightly, running her hands through her hair, fingers combing back the wet strands, and she caught a glimpse of the faint rings around her wrists. She ran a finger lightly over the one of her left wrist. Just a pink line, hardly visible, and surely gone by tomorrow morning. But the memory of how she got them…Buffy closed her eyes as an involuntary shudder went through her. She said she would never trust him, yet made no move when Spike slipped the cuffs around her wrists. And, oh, the things he did to her. And then, when she had bound his hands, holding them above his head while she slowly rode him, teasing, until he could take no more and snapped the metal chain that constrained him, roughly flipping her over and--

"Arg!" Buffy shook her head sharply, as though that would erase the memories. She looked back at her reflection, and rolled her eyes. "I'm like a freakin' heroine addict or something…" she muttered, irritated at herself, yanking one of the fluffy white bath towels off the rack on the wall and rubbing her skin dry. She walked out the door roughly toweling her hair dry, and was greeted with the sight of Spike sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows resting on his knees. Of course.

She sighed heavily, tossing the towel onto the bathroom floor behind her, uncaring of her nudity. She turned to face him, hand on her hips.

"What are you doing here, Spike?"

"Came to see if you were all right," he replied softly.

Buffy rolled her eyes, heading towards her suitcase and retrieving her hairbrush, and began detangling her locks. "I'm fine."

Spike sighed, standing up. "No. You're not."

"God! Why are you being like this?" She threw her brush into her bag. "Since when are you so pushy!"

"I'm not being pushy! Time was not too long ago you would've answered the question without shutting me out!"

"I'm not shutting you out. You were never in--"

"Oh, that's bollocks and you bloody well know it!" Spike suddenly exploded. "We used to talk. We used to be some kind of friends, god forbid."

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. Spike stalked up to her, staring her down until she looked back up at him. "We stopped talkin'…the minute we started shaggin'," he said, more calmly now. "If you want the truth, it started before that. Started with that kiss behind the shop, after the song and dance numbers."

Buffy closed her eyes, momentarily lost in the memory and his close proximity. When she opened them, Spike was looking at her with a thoughtful gaze. He raised his right hand and laid it against her face, fingers gently stroking her temple.

"You shut me out of here…" he lifted his left hand to her chest, laying his palm over her heart, "…the minute you let me in here," he finished softly.

Buffy could not help the shudder that went through her body at his touch, and also his words. She took a deep breath in an effort to steady her voice.

"What makes you think I let you in at all?" Her words were harsh, but she made no move to step away from his hands.

Spike closed his eyes as he felt the stab of pain go through him. That shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. But he still couldn't answer her question with any convincing, so he posed one of his own. "Are you gonna look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't, luv?"

Buffy held his gaze so steadily he felt a jolt of fear go through him. She was actually going to say it, say that she never let him in, not ever.

But she never said a word. Instead, she lifted herself on her toes and leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to Spike's, maintaining their eye contact. Spike's panic left him so suddenly that he couldn't help the sigh of relief when he felt her warm lips on his. He tentatively kissed her back, first the top, then the pouting lower lip. The way she kept her eyes locked to his both unnerved and thrilled him. Only when he swept his tongue across the seam of her lips did her lids drift closed, even as her mouth opened. Her tongue came out to dance with his, and Spike knew that this was by far the gentlest of kisses they'd ever shared.

He brought both hands up to cup her face, and slowly extricated himself from the kiss. Buffy's brows knit slightly in confusion, and she opened her eyes to gaze into his questioningly.

"Buffy. What. Is. Wrong?" he whispered urgently. When answered only by the clenching of her jaw and the averting of her eyes, Spike sighed deeply, pressing his forehead to hers. "Let me in, luv. Please. Let me do what I can for you, besides just make you forget."

"You don't--" Buffy choked out, before sniffing and clearing her throat. "You don't make me forget, Spike," she whispered as she once again raised glittering eyes to his. "You make me remember."

"What do you mean, pet?"

"You make me remember…what it's like…to feel. To feel anything that's…good. And it makes me so sad," she choked back a sob, "because when it's over everything just becomes hard and cold and bright again," she finished in a rush.

Spike honestly didn't know what to say or do to make things right for his girl. So he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead, and wrapped his arms around her, feeling her hot tears streak down his chest. He slowly began leading them backwards, toward her bed. When he felt his knees hit the edge, he turned and guided her to lay down. He pulled the covers over her, then stood before her as she stared at him with tear-rimmed eyes. Slowly, he pulled his shirt off over his head, then shucked his jeans onto the floor. He went around to the other side of the bed and climbed under the covers, scooting over to her and pulled her into his arms. Buffy sighed, sending a hot stream of air across his chest, making him shiver. They lay that way for such a long time, her head pillowed on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around her, that Spike was sure she had fallen asleep. Just as he was about to doze himself, he heard her begin to speak.

It took him a moment to realize it, but she was telling him about…everything. What she remembered of heaven. How much she missed her mom. How worried she was about supporting herself and Dawn. How worried she was about Willow. Wondering if she would live to see thirty. How happy she was for Xander and Anya, and how guilty she felt for being insanely jealous of them. How he was the only person she'd ever known who could annoy her so thoroughly on minute and make her laugh the next.

Spike lost track of the actual words being spoken after a while, and instead focused all of his other senses on her. He watched the play of emotions across her face. Listened to her giggle when she was remembering something funny. Smelled the salt of her tears when she remembered something she'd rather have forgotten. Felt the heat rise in her skin as she thought of something they'd done together, whether it was fighting or other things. And throughout it all, Spike knew that something between them was changing. Maybe not drastically, but something had been set in motion, and it was something he knew he would fight for fist and fang to keep it going.

Eventually Buffy's words became softer, more slurred, till they were finally half-dreamt murmurs. Spike idly stroked her hair as she fell deeper into slumber, lulling himself in the process. Neither actually remembered falling asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy awoke feeling safer than she had in a long time. She was warm. She was laying on an incredibly comfortable bed. She was wrapped up in covers and various strong limbs, pressed against an equally strong chest. She peeked through her eyelashes to see the room filled with the soft blue light of pre-dawn. She looked up into Spike's deceptively angelic face. In slumber he held the countenance of the Greek Endymion. She reached up her free hand to stroke his chiseled jaw and cheek, down the side of his neck and over a sculpted shoulder, then around to travel the smooth planes of his back, and over the silken skin of his ass. His muscular thigh was slid between hers, pressing firmly against her sex.

Her eyes once again drifted closed as her hand continued its journey over his body, and she felt rather than saw Spike stirring to wakefulness. His eyes too remained closed, yet his lips moved unerringly to the crook of her neck, pressing sleepy kisses to her hot skin. His hands, too, found their targets, one slipping down her back to cup her ass, pulling her more firmly against him, the other caressing up her stomach to tease across one breast, rubbing the nipple lightly before pinching it firmly.

Buffy began to sigh and moan softly, her own hand reaching between them to grasp his cock, stroking it gently. Spike made a sound that seemed a cross between a groan and a growl, and squeezed her breast once before sending his hand down between the top of his own thigh and Buffy's dark curls, parting her flesh to stroke gentle, lazy circles over her clit.

She cried out softly, then wrapped her arm around Spike's shoulders, sliding her knee up over his hip, even as he shifted down slightly. As soon as the tip of his cock touched her heated entrance, he began to press gently into her, as she pushed onto him. They both sighed as he was fully sheathed inside her. They kissed softly, and began a slow but steady rhythm, gently rocking together and apart, barely moving at all. The feelings coursing through their bodies were so intense, so unadulterated, that little else was required to bring them to shuddering release.

Their positions had barely changed since their waking, save for Spike still being nestled inside of her. He once again settled his head in the crook of her neck, tightening his arms around her as she stroked his back.

He had just about dozed off again when he heard her giggle softly, her chest bouncing against him. "Wha's funny, luv?" he mumbled.

"I was just thinking," he could hear the grin in her voice, "that we really can do that in our sleep."

Spike couldn't help it, and had to join her in the giggling. He was just too content not to. "So it appears, pet. Go back to sleep."

"Plan on it," she sighed, and then quickly followed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt like they had only gone back to sleep a few moments before, when Spike and Buffy were awoken to the sound of a hesitant yet steady knocking on her door.

As sometimes happens when you're sleeping so well you just know you had to have missed something, Buffy was startled into waking and shot straight up to a sitting position, sending an equally startled Spike sprawling onto his back.

"Who is it?" she called out loudly if groggily, earning her an irritated glare from the vampire next to her, as he sat up on his elbows.

"I-It's Tara," called the voice from the other side of the door.

Buffy's sleep- and sex-addled brain followed roughly this train of thought: Tara. She knows already. More sleep for Buffy. Yay. "Come in," she yelled, and promptly flung herself back onto the mattress, curling up against a more than slightly shocked Spike, and burrowing under the covers.

For her part, Tara reacted very well to the sight which greeted her. There was only a temporary loss in motor skills and speech ability, which were both quickly overcome as she remembered that, one: she was standing in the very wide open doorway, and two: she had come up to Buffy's room for a reason. She closed the door and approached the bed, trying not to blush as Spike settled back against the headboard, settling his arm loosely around Buffy's shoulders.

"Um, B-Buffy?" Tara took the muffled "huh" as an acknowledgement of her existence, and continued. "W-Well, it's, um, eleven-thirty. In the morning."

"Mm. Huh?!" Buffy once again shot to a sitting position, clutching the covers to her chest. Her eyes searched the room for the digital alarm clock sitting on the dresser, it's glowing numbers confirming Tara's statement. "Oh, wow. I don't know when I last slept so much!" she exclaimed, unable to keep the joy of a good night's sleep from her voice.

Tara smiled warmly. "I'm glad. I told everyone to let you sleep in, but after eleven they were getting kinda worried about you. I told them I'd check on you."

"Thanks, Tara," Buffy said through her yawn. "We'll be down in a second."

Tara glanced shyly at Spike, who still lay passively on the pillows. "I'll tell them." Then she turned and walked out, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Buffy dropped the covers and stretched her arms above her head, groaning and arching her back. She turned to look back at Spike, but whatever she was about to say died on her lips as she took in his awed expression.

"What?" she asked, as his eyes locked on hers as though he couldn't believe what he saw in them.

"What??" she repeated, laughing slightly as his expression changed from awe to joy, a slow smile spreading across his features.

"Wh--aiee!" she squealed as he pounced on her, knocking her back to the mattress and covering her neck, shoulders, face, and lips with fevered kisses.

It was…slightly longer than a second before they made it down to the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My sincerest apologies to all the readers of this fic. I must admit to having abandoned not only this story, but also my other fic, "The Marching Razorbacks," as well as the half a dozen other fics I have started but not yet published. My life right now is not very fan fiction-friendly. I'm going to school full time, working full time, and my two and a half year relationship with my boyfriend has been of the rocky. I can't give you any ideas of when I will get to the next chapters of any of my stories, but this chapter has sat on my disk three-quarters finished so I decided to go ahead and write the last two pages. In the meantime, I thank all of you who have read and reviewed, and ask for your further patience. And to those of you who were concerned for my state of living, yes, I am still alive. ;-d

Lata,
Coquine (coquinespike@yahoo.com)