Spike stared at the tiny hand clutching his arm and then let his gaze drift up to the deep green eyes he should have been able to trust.

"Spike, please. I can explain." Jinx's voice held just the right amount of pleading mixed with a hint of tears. He wasn't buying it for a second.

Prying her fingers off his arm he simultaneously reached behind him opened the door.

"Leave…..Now"

Shoving Jinx's protesting form out the door he turned back to the interior of the apartment and focused on Willow. She was on the couch with Buffy, rocking her and whispering some kind of soothing rot.

"You too, Red."

"I can't just leave her…."

Spike wasn't sure why Buffy chose that moment to speak and he didn't really care.

"It's okay Will, we need to talk……alone. I'll be fine. No worries. K. Go check out the shopping. Find me a new ice cream spot."

He felt his mouth curve in a sardonic twist at the sight of Buffy trying to reassure Willow. She still thinks no matter what she's done I won't hurt her, She thought wrong.

Spike held the door open wider as Willow passed through it.

"When should I…"

Willow's question was lost as the door closed in her face. Spinning around Spike strode quickly across the room and perched on the edge of the coffee table inches from Buffy's face.

"There now, just the two of us. Cozy isn't it. What shall we talk about?"

At Buffy's blank expression Spike continued his montage.

" Hmmm now let's see. We could discuss world politics and it's effect on the economy. Unfortunately I'd lose you in seconds with that. Something more your speed maybe. I know the newest boy band bubble gum pop hit….. No that would likely give me a bloody aneurysm. "

Tapping his chin Spike let the placating tone drop from his voice and replaced it with one of pure menace.

"I know how about we discuss exactly what possessed you to fuck soldier boy, rip out my heart, lie to me and then chase me halfway across the country with some harebrained scheme to ask for my help"

At a small squeak from the slayer, Spike realized he was crushing her chin in his hand. He couldn't remember reaching for her. Dropping the offending limb, Spike made a show of wiping his digits across his jeans. Disgust rose in his voice and he had trouble pinpointing whether it was for her or himself.

"Tell you what, when we are done with that, we can make a good long list of reasons why there is no bloody way in hell I will ever touch you again…… You start."

On the outside Spike displayed a practiced air of nonchalance. Leaning back on the table he propped one foot on his thigh and waited. On the inside it was a whole different story. Every muscle in his body was vibrating with barley controlled tension. His mind was in a constantly shifting pattern of denial and acceptance. He desperately wanted to smoke…. or pace….. or do anything really…. anything but be here…..with her. Searching his psyche for something to calm, Spike latched onto the apathetic peace he had been clinging to since walking out Buffy's door.

For the first few days he hadn't felt anything, not rage or misery, just a black empty, detached feeling. He had let Jinx lead him wherever she wanted to go. It took more than a few weeks for his sense of self to reassert itself. With it came the agony of loss and a renewed determination to escape. A broken heart was a powerful motivator, when choosing a new home. He had found himself staring out over the Pacific ocean one night, trying to find just one moment of peace. When it occurred to him he didn't need to run anymore. The revelation had come in a series of tiny broken seconds of clear consciousness. He would make himself never love her again. Never speak to her, never see her and most importantly, never touch her again. The idea had freed him, as long as he erased her from his mind then he could feel nothing. That was all he really needed to stay sane…… nothing.

Apparently someone had forgotten to give Buffy the memo. Her presence was not part of the plan. It was a hell of a lot easier to remain aloof when the object of your disdain was somewhere else. Not sitting in front of you, trying to coax some kind of articulate sound past her throat. Spike cursed every deity he could think of regardless of their side in the good /evil battle. Finding that lacking, Spike did the one thing he found most difficult. He waited.




Buffy picked absently at tiny fluff balls on the green comforter Willow had tossed over her. Anything to prolong the inevitable. There had been three days to plan her confession and she had used every second of them. Unfortunately in her scenario, Spike was falling into her arms and professing his undying love. Not watching her with a cold calculating look, that she was pretty sure was designed to eradicate her presence from his sight. She hadn't seen it since in years and even then it was tempered by his love for Dru. Now he had nothing left to ease the simmering rage and desire to hurt. She had systematically beaten all that was good out of him.

Congratulations Buffy, you made him into the vampire he always wanted to be.

That was the thing, her biggest fear, the reason she hadn't told her friends, the obstacle that kept her from truly giving in.

He was evil, undead, disgusting, a thing…….convenient. No matter what she threw, he took it and always came back for more. His love had been unconditional, hers was not. She had never been able to get past the knowledge that he was, for all intents and purposes, a vampire. How could she give herself freely to him and then turn around and kill his kind. Loving him went against every ethic she had.

Buffy let her gaze rise from the blanket to study the man in front of her. He seemed casual, but she could see the tension in his white knuckles as he gripped the table. The man in front of her.

That was the issue that kept her from running out the room, had in fact kept him alive all these years. He was so much more than a monster, capable of so much more than death and destruction. In some ways he was the most human person she knew. The evidence of that was nestled securely in her body.

Nothing made sense anymore, hadn't in so many years, she honestly wondered if there had had been a moment of clarity. She had been living by a certain set of rules for so long she hadn't realized they were a prison of her own making. Right and wrong, good versus evil, when had all the lines blurred to gray. It occurred to her that her actions had long ago swerved off the path she was chosen for and her mind just hadn't been willing to make the same detour. She felt a slight shift in her reality as the weight of her chosen one responsibilities lifted slowly away. Up until now she had been thinking by a slayer's rules. That had ceased to be the necessary means of survival, she had to live by a new code. A mother's.

Buffy observed the storm of emotions processing in Spike's eyes, that was something he could never quite hide from her. They knew each other to well, right or wrong, they were connected. Somewhere under that wall of indifference was the Spike she knew. He may never love her again and that was something she would have to accept, but she would be damned if her child was going to suffer because of her actions. Decision made, she leaned forward and looked right into the tempest of love and hate swirling in his eyes.

" This is the last time we will ever have this conversation. I screwed up. I have no excuse, it happened. As far as ripping out your heart, well consider it paid back. Jinx made no secret of just how long it took you to find another warm body. I did not lie to you, you chose to believe what other people told you. The only blame I am taking is that I didn't force you to listen to me. Why am I here? The baby needs you. Simple as that."

Peeling his hand off the table Buffy placed it on her stomach and held it there with her own.

"You want a reason, it's right here. No matter how much you hate me, this the only chance you are ever going to get."

Spike stared at his hand pressing against Buffy's stomach. Somehow in the turmoil of her arrival he had neglected to realize the implications of the situation. The baby. This wasn't about her, or them, or prophecies or even Armageddon. She was right, after all the destruction and pain he had relished in creating in this world. This was something else. He had one chance, his only chance, at creating something pure. His demon screamed at the injustice of it but his heart rejoiced at the concept.

Standing, Spike twisted her fingers in his and pulled her towards the bedroom.

"Where are we going?" All the bravado she had thrown at him was now swiftly fading from her voice.

Spike turned and looked at her, he had never realized how young she was or how utterly frightened. Cupping her face in his hand, he reached up with the other and slid her hair away from his goal. Leaning down he nibbled lightly along her neck, and was rewarded by the slight shiver coursing through her limbs. He could make this easy on her, but the dark part of his heart refused to let that happen. Shifting into his vampiric countenance he brought his head up so she would have to meet the beast head on. He was through denying who he was.

"I don't want your blood all over my couch. It'll put a cramp in my entertaining."

"Well I'm not going in there. That's where you and her……you know. Forget it, not going to happen."

Spike ran agitated fingers through his hair. Women. She's fine with the whole draining dry, might end up dead bit. But, oh no, don't let it be in the bed I screw another woman in, that would be taboo.

"You didn't seem to have an issue with my bed, when you were snuggling up to my blanket"

"That was your……..oh gross. Now I need a shower. Where's the disinfectant?"

Spike watched her move away, her need for immediate cleanliness apparent by the way she was now rubbing ineffectually at her hands.

"Sure the bathroom would work. Easier to clean up too."

"WHAT?……NO……I am not going to cramp myself in a bathroom with you so that you can save your precious upholstery. Find somewhere else"

So much for scared. He mused. The bitch is back.

The prospect pissed him off almost as much as it excited him.

"Fine….. miss holier than thou, How about the bloody kitchen?"

"No."

"That's it. Just no."

"Would you like me to say it slower?"

He'd had enough.

"Well where exactly would her royal pain in the ass, like me to rip out her throat."

"Find me a hotel…….make that a nice hotel……with room service"

"You have got to be fucking kidding me. Do you honestly think I am going to put you up in some swanky resort, just so I can do what I should have done the first time I met you?"

"Well maybe if you had worked a little harder on the killing part instead of the following me around with puppy dog eyes part, we wouldn't be here. But seeing as you didn't….. deal. And just so we're clear, your not supposed to be killing me. Would you like me to right that down for you. Your memory seems to be slipping."

Spike stared at Buffy. She had her feet firmly planted and her hands balled in fists on her hips. The effect was slightly diminished by the protruding weight of her stomach, but not my much. She was not going to give an inch.

"BLOODY HELL"

Spike grabbed her elbow and proceeded to hustle her out of the apartment. He was going to have to pick his battles and there were much bigger ones coming than this.

"Where are we going?" Buffy panted behind him, minutes later, as they neared the underground parking garage.

Spike glanced back over his shoulder and afforded himself a smirk at her obvious discomfort.

"To get a room."