***Got some Buffy & Spike talk for ya.

CHAPTER 28

Two hours alone in the backyard with only a few stars and numerous insects as unwilling companions was enough to drive Spike back into Casa de Summers. Taking one last look at the partially visible blackness of space, the vampire wheeled around and bounded gracefully up the steps.

Mindful of the time of night, he gingerly closed the door, making sure to lock it, in the unlikely event that they were paid another unexpected visit by a vampire that didn't require a personal invite. He walked silently through the kitchen and listened at the entrance of the living room for signs of life. He heard the distinct pattern of two different heartbeats as well as the deep breathing of the same individuals. He crept into the room quietly and what he witnessed stirred his undead heart like nothing ever had.

Before him just in front of the couch bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, was Faith, curled in a ball. She slept on her side, her thin arms crossed over her chest, knees drawn to her elbows. Her head rested comfortably on the stomach of an exhausted slayer. Buffy's legs were crossed at the ankles and her right arm was draped protectively around Faith's shoulders while her other hand rested gently on the young woman's head. A true look of peace was etched upon the two women's nearly identical features and it was all that he could do not to cry at the beauty of it all.

His heart heavy with joy, the vampire addled over to the two women and sat cross-legged at their feet, marveling at the completeness of the scene. It was in this moment that he wished to die. Not out of grief, heartache, or apathy of his all-too-complicated un-life, but to catch glimpse of such a perfect memory was fleeting for him at best and why not die when he was at the pinnacle of his existence? It was doubtful that life would get any better for the likes of him.

Raising his knees to his chest and encircling his legs with his arms, Spike cocked his head to the side and studied the rise and fall of the two young women. They looked so peaceful and radiant, as if they were untouchable by the ills of the world. The things they had gone through were too much for women who had yet to reach their twenty-fourth birthday. If only I could take their pain away, he thought to himself and wiped at his eyes, refusing to tear up at the scene before him.

Spike didn't know how long he sat there, watching the subtleties of the two women in their sleep but the next thing he knew the warm sensation of familiar lips against his cool skin awakened him from the realms of a dreamless sleep.

"Morning, Mr. Undead Guy," Buffy cooed sleepily. Spike forced his eyes open and was greeted by the sight of his beautiful slayer, crouched in front of him.

"Hey, luv," he answered. Glancing around the room, he noticed the lights were off and that it was still dark outside. "How long 'ave I been out?"

"About twenty minutes, I guess," she replied and sat next to him. She sleepily lay her head against his shoulder and Spike automatically snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her into a protective embrace. The silence stretched between them, though it was not strained. Rather it was similar to the silent walk they shared back from his crypt a few hours ago. Finally, the peaceful quiet was interrupted by the hushed voice of Buffy.

"So, where'd you go?"

"Luv?"

"When you left earlier, where'd you go? I know Tara went out after you and all, but I didn't think she found you. At least she didn't say anything about it." She risked a glance up at the platinum blond and was rewarded by an unreadable mask.

"Didn't go nowhere, luv. Had a few smokes out back with the Tink is all," he said matter-of-factly, desperately resisting the memories that had plagued him.

The look on Dawn's face before he was thrown from the tower.

Buffy's crumbled body as the sun outlined her face-beautiful even in death.

The realization that being with him was killing Buffy.

Knowing that he was responsible for them not getting back in time to help Dawn…

"It's not your fault," Tara had said. But wasn't it? Hadn't he promised Buffy he'd protect the Niblet 'til the end of the world? Funny, that in the span of nine months he had welshed on that promise twice already, not quite the dependability Buffy was counting on. But what could she expect from an evil, soulless thing incapable of love?

"You still see yourself as evil and if anything bad happens, especially to the people you care about, it has to be your fault." Spike shivered as Tara's words continued to cloud his self-flagellation. She was wrong, it was his fault. His fault that Dawn had been taken. His fault that Buffy was hurting so much. Hell, he idly considered whether he was to blame for Joyce's death.

"…If you're looking for me to tell you how bad a person you are, or how this is your fault…you're talking to the wrong person." The vampire stiffened as he remembered the determination and assuredness behind Tara's words. Being the one to see through people was his job, yet the usually timid Wicca had cut to the heart of his insecurities in a matter of minutes. She had laid it all down on the line, speaking the truth like he usually did.

"Spike?" Buffy said. She had sensed the tension rip through her companion a few minutes ago and wondered what had the blond vampire so up in arms. The first time she had called his name, it was barely above a whisper, as she didn't wish to disturb the still sleeping Faith before them. This time as she called his name, Buffy nudged him in the ribs with her elbow before he finally snapped out of his malaise.

"Sorry, luv," he said absently. Still concerned, Buffy maneuvered herself in position to look him directly in the eyes.

"What's going on, Spike?"

"It…"

"And don't give me that 'it's nothing' bullshit," she whispered fervently. "Besides," her voice softened, "last time you said that, I had to stand and watch you playing the part of the undead rock star."

Spike stared at her for several seconds before breaking out into a halfhearted grin. "Thought you liked my little rock number, luv." His scarred brow arched suggestively and Buffy couldn't stop the heat from rising through her body and she sheepishly looked down, studying the floor.

"I did." It came out almost inaudibly and even with his enhanced hearing, Spike was barely able to make it out.

"You did?" He queried, obviously surprised.

"Yeah, I did. You weren't half bad with the singing," she said noting that it was his turn to study the floor under them. "Guess it's all that practice you have with the Sex Pistols and all."

Spike snorted. "I'll have you know, pet, that The Sex Pistols are, for all intents and purposes, legends."

"Of what? Lame names?" she muttered and was rightfully greeted by a sharp pinch on her leg. "Hey," she said indignantly before smacking his offending hand away.

"Serves you right, talkin' about greatness like that," he huffed. " 'Sides, you can't even make an informed judgment when you haven't even heard the bloody group play."

"Oh I have information, all right: Sex Pistols. 'Nuff said."

"Whatever. Bloody bint," he muttered under his breath.

"But that's not the point," she said, encircling his hand with both of hers. "The point was that you bared yourself to me sans the chains and it was…" she fumbled over what to say next. "Well, it was a once in a lifetime thing. And I don't mean in 'the summoning the Lord of the Dance demon from hell to take my sister as his bride' way. I mean it in the 'man singing to the woman he loves' sort of way." Buffy made sure that his ice blue eyes were on her when she had emphasized the word man.

Spike took in the sight of his sleepy-eyed slayer, not knowing what to think. The past day had been a bevy of emotional twists and turns that had them both still reeling, pleading for a much-needed break in the action. But fate was sadistic and he knew they would never get a reprieve as the world was always in peril and someone was always in need of saving. All he did know that, if possible, he would meet those demands by her side, if only she allowed him.

"We should get the baby bit to bed, luv," he said, motioning to the huddled young woman on the floor.

"Yeah, but where should we put her?"

"The Niblet's room is…" Spike began and immediately cursed himself for his brazen stupidity. Buffy's hands had tightened over his and Spike knew that despite the brave front, Buffy was still out of her mind with worry.

"Sorry, pet. Might insensitive of me."

"No. It's okay," she murmured and ran her hands through her hair. Dawn's abduction was just another worry on the list of evil's attempts at driving the slayer insane. It was a new tactic though no less effective than attempts at fresh slayer-ki-bob.

"Buffy," Spike addressed the slayer forcefully. The demand in his tone was enough to jolt her from the ever-increasing burden that she carried across her back.

"Listen to me pet and listen good. We are gonna find the Niblet. We always do. And you'll see; not a hair on her tiny head will be harmed. I swear to you."

"But what if he already has hurt her?" She expressed the thought they both feared.

"But he hasn't and we both know it." He hoped the false confidence in his tone was enough to convince Buffy that everything was all right. The small smile that crept up on her face let him know that she was forcing herself to believe it.

"We should get her into bed," Buffy whispered and motioned to Faith. Spike nodded his assent and walked over to her huddled form. He gingerly positioned his arms underneath her and was surprised when she rolled into his embrace. He lifted the slight girl into his arms like an infant and made his way toward the steps with Buffy closely behind.

"I guess Tara is staying here," Buffy remarked as she peeped through the window before securing the curtains. Spike glanced back at her and smiled before he continued the slow walk up the steps.

Nudging the door open with his hip, Spike casually navigated through the dark room of the missing teenager. He smirked as posters of N 'sync and several other abominable excuses for modern musicians littered Dawn's walls. Guess I'm gonna have to show Niblet what real music is, he mused before reality unceremoniously dumped a pitcher of ice cold water on his mental retreat.

Though he had told Buffy that Dawn was okay, he really didn't know that was the case. He hoped beyond hope that it was true but what if she was right? What if who ever it was that nabbed her had already done the deed and harmed her? Killed her? Or worse--turned her? The medley of thoughts that pervaded his mind caused his body to stiffen. The soft moan of the figure in his arms was enough to distract him from his thoughts. He placed Faith's head on the pillow and held her legs up enough to pull the covers from under her bottom. He affectionately covered her with the thin sheets and the comforter before gracing her forehead with a tender kiss.

"Daddy?" her sleepy voice called. Spike jumped at Faith's plea and he saw her eyes flutter open, barely able to focus.

"Yeah, baby bit?" He answered automatically, startling himself with the ease at which he accepted the title she had just addressed him with. May not have been her father, but I was her daddy.

"I'm scared," she said and her thin arms wrapped around his neck before he could do anything.

Not wanting to pull away from her strong grip, Spike settled himself onto the bed and enveloped her with his own embrace. "Scared of what, luv?" he asked while he stroked her hair.

"That you'll be gone. That I won't see you again," she sniffled into his duster. The pain and fear in her voice was enough to have tears prickling at the back of his throat.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," he assured, "I'm not going anywhere."

Faith's grip around his neck tightened for an instant before she relaxed her grip and her hands hung limply on his shoulders. "Promise?" she asked as sleep began to claim its hold over her again.

"Promise," he whispered in her ear and he hugged her firmly to his chest, afraid to let go.

I'm going to be a Daddy, Spike thought. Even if it wasn't in the biological sense, he was almost satisfied in knowing that this small woman would be his in everything but blood. A very small part of him was glad about the latter, considering that she wouldn't inherit his insecurities or penchant for evil. He could tell that all her traits were strictly from her mother. Her strength of character. Her resolve. Her stubbornness and somewhat flippant attitude, though he may have rubbed off a bit of the last two on her. The point was that Faith Summers was nothing but good. There was no evil in her and that was enough to let him know that she was not his.

Tara may think I'm not evil, he thought bitterly, but I am. Always have been, always will be.

"Daddy?" Faith called and it was evident that she was, for all intents and purposes, asleep.

"Pet?"

"You're a good Daddy and I love you," she said and kissed the spot over his heart before falling into the oblivious realms of dreams.

The tears that had been abated earlier cascaded down his cheeks and Spike didn't understand why. What she had said, though he wouldn't know it until later, was exactly what he needed to hear. He knew Dawn didn't see him as bad and neither did Tara. Even Willow, whom he had threatened on numerous occasions didn't look at him with a "Spike is evil" glare. Anya, well, that chit didn't care one way or the other. Truthfully, aside from the whelp, only Buffy really thought that he was still evil though her actions tonight had been a total one-eighty from her previous convictions about him. Still, he had tethered the line between man and monster but those eight words from the child he didn't know was his was enough to push him over into the right direction.

No, he didn't realize it now, but for Spike the message had implanted itself deep down in his core; he was a good man. And once he finally accepted that, nothing would ever be able to take it away from him.

***

Buffy had watched as Spike cradled Faith in his arms and whisked her into Dawn's room, laying her down on the partially made bed. The tenderness he exuded with her touched Buffy in a way she had never known. True, his affection had been there earlier but that was around other people. Then, of course, there was the fact that since then she had found out that Spike was Faith's real dad in every way, shape and form.

"Daddy?" She heard the young woman call out as Spike tucked her underneath the covers. The love with which she said it was too much and Buffy stifled a choked sob by raising her small hand to her lips. She lowered her head, tears threatening to spill for the umpteenth time before she left the two alone and went to her room.

The petite blond took several minutes to brush her teeth and rinse her face before she made it to her room. She softly closed the door behind her and immediately went to fasten the drapes, blocking any attempts of the moonlight from stealing a view of her solitude. How long had it been since she had returned? Three months? Five? Six? She really didn't know and didn't care either. All she knew was that she had felt more in the past day than she had in all those months combined. She was so despondent when she had returned save for the fleeting moments with Spike. Buffy had wrongfully assumed that she was devoid of even the basest emotions though, if anything, tonight had confirmed she did have the full compliment of emotions.

Buffy undressed quickly and wriggled into a half-shirt that was barely enough to cover her now bra-less chest. She slid under the sheets and sighed at the coolness of them on her warm skin. Her hands were laced behind her head as she stared blankly into the darkness above her.

Her mind was on overload and she couldn't help but long for the simpler times in Los Angeles when her parents were together and she was just Buffy Anne Summers; little Ms. Popular herself. It seemed like a lifetime ago and, in truth, it was. Six years, two deaths, a new baby sister not to mention the death of her mother and no less than five apocalypses later (throw in two vampire boyfriends) and where was she now?

"Lost," she whispered to the quiet shroud of darkness around her. She sighed deeply at her admission. So much nonsense (important, but nevertheless nonsense) cluttered her brain to the degree that she had no idea which way she was facing most of the time. It was by sheer luck (Or Spike) that she had gotten this far. Though it was a constant reminder of how normal she was not, the slaying was actually the part that kept her halfway on the road of sanity. The deluge of other things--bills, work, taking care of Dawn--the more mundane things of life that steered her clear into the median and swerving into a cow ditch.

How did Mom do it? She thought for the countless time. Though she hated it at times, Buffy felt that slaying was actually a godsend to her. Before it, she had had no clue as to what she wanted with her life and even now, when she thought about the possibilities of retiring from her slayer-hood, she still drew a blank as to what her life goal would be. She'd welcome the dusting of a vampire or lopping the head off a particularly nasty demon to dealing with teachers for Dawn or balancing the checkbook any day. But dealing with them both was something beyond difficult.

"It's not mission difficult, Summers, it's mission impossible…" she muttered to herself and laughed harshly just as her door opened discretely.

"Slayer?" Spike called, not too loud.

"Yeah?"

"You decent?" He asked seriously before adding a trademark sexually charged innuendo. " 'Course, not that I mind you indecent in the least."

Buffy smiled lightly at Spike's continual turn into the sexual. "What do you want, Spike?" she asked though her voice contained a hint of amusement.

Half-expecting some snarky comment, Spike was taken aback at Buffy's somewhat mirthful response. Taking it as his cue, he slid between the partially open door and its frame before closing it. He noticed the darkness of the room, only slivers of moonlight sneaked through the pulled curtains. Hands in his pockets he approached the bed, stopping at the foot before addressing Buffy nervously.

"I put Faith to bed," he informed but never took his eyes off her black boots.

"How is she?" Buffy asked and sat up. She didn't even notice as the covers pooled around her waist.

"Fine," Spike replied desperate now to find something interesting on the floor but failing miserably. Out the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of her pert nipples poking through the thin fabric of the shirt and it was enough to stoke the fire within that always simmered in his desire for her. "Sleeping like a baby." He finally managed to prevent his feet from taking root and slipped toward the window.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he reached for the curtain. She tried to keep the apprehension out of her voice but failed miserably.

His arm stopped short of the curtain and he let it drop to his side. "Bout to head back to the crypt is all. Don't wanna wait 'til good old Mr. Sunshine…"

"Stay," she said simply and Spike couldn't help but stare at her in amazement.

"What did you say?" he asked, not believing he had heard it.

"Stay," she repeated but with more feeling. To get her gesture across even more, she scooted across the bed and pulled the covers back partially. He saw her smile as she patted the empty space beside her and he couldn't help but to beam like a fool.

Wasting no time, Spike stripped off his clothes, his eyes never leaving the green spheres of the woman he loved above all things. He stalked over her, not bothering to hide his arousal as he slipped beneath the covers and drew her close to him. He kissed her fully on the lips, enveloping her touch, her taste, and her scent. The minty fragrance of toothpaste and that flavor that was distinctly Buffy's danced across his tongue as he lapped at hers in a languid ritual. His hands traced over the smooth curves of her body and though he knew every inch, every centimeter of her, he couldn't help but feel as if every time he touched her that it was, in fact, the first time.

As his hand cupped her thong-laced butt, Buffy moaned into the mouth of her cold lover. She draped her leg across his thin hips and pulled him closer, feeling his erection bounce expectantly against the lace of her panties. The familiar taste of Spike invaded her senses and it took all her willpower not to ravage him then and there. She didn't want that at all. She wanted what they had in the crypt, the slow, rhythm-filled dance in the forest. Not that she didn't like the way he pounded unmercifully into her flesh as if it was his duty to cripple her, no, she loved that. But if she was to change the dynamics of their relationship, things had to change. Of course, every once in awhile, the hardcore shagging wouldn't be too bad, now would it?

Spike read the deliberate motions of Buffy's flesh and knew that she wanted to experience the rightness of their lovemaking from earlier that night. It was taking a great deal of willpower not to just rip those silky panties away and shove his engorged cock into her like it was his only hope. But she didn't want that now and, for the most part, neither did he. Truth be told there was something even more precious that he wanted than her body at the moment.

"No," Buffy whined as Spike slowly pulled away from her. Her lips searched for his as her hands palmed at his naked flesh.

Spike had to fight the urge to acquiesce to her demands but he didn't want to just yet.

"Buffy," he said as he caressed her flushed cheek. "Open your eyes, luv." He grinned as she huffed before opening her lust-filled eyes to gaze at him.

"What's with the stopping?" she asked and stuck her bottom lip out for effect.

"None of that, luv," he said before leaning in for a quick kiss.

"Why not?" She stuck her lip out even further.

"Because…"

"Because?" She scooted closer toward him as her hand found his prized possession.

Although he was focused, Spike couldn't help but growl in satisfaction as her petite hand wrapped around his aching cock. He balled his fists tightly, clutching at the air before he was able to gently nudge her hand away.

"Spike?" Her voice was filled with a bevy of emotions. Lust. Confusion. Irritation. Disappointment. And fear.

His brow furrowed at the thought of the latter. Why would she be scared? He thought and dismissed the question just as quickly. He had already surmised earlier that the one thing she needed above all others was reassurance that he wasn't going to pull a disappearing act. And to her, turning down her sexual advances meant only one thing.

"It's not like I don't want to luv. There's not much I'd rather be doing than shagging you until the bloody cows come home." She visibly relaxed before speaking.

"And what would you rather do than that?" Her hand skimmed across his rippled abs, eliciting a guttural sigh.

"Well," he said and brought her hands up to his lips, taking the time to kiss each knuckle individually. "Numero uno on that list would be to make love to you until I died." Their eyes met and Buffy's lips parted in awe. The adoration on her face was a sight to behold and Spike thought that for a fleeting moment she was going to say the words that he so much wanted to hear. Instead, she leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. When she pulled back, she gazed into his eyes and Spike felt the chill up his spine at the foreign look she gave him. It was filled with something he had never been shown and he couldn't discern it.

"So what's number two?"

Spike snapped out of his wandering mind and focused on what he wanted to say. " 'S not near as interesting as the other two options, luv, but it's just as necessary. Maybe even more so."

"And that would be?"

"Talk."

"Talk? Is that some sort of slang for…"

"I want to talk to you. No, I want you to talk to me." He squeezed her hands for emphasis.

"Talk about what?" she asked cautiously. Don't ask me about Faith. Don't ask me about Faith. Don't ask me about Faith, the mantra repeated in her head.

"Us."

"Oh," she said and relaxed just a fraction.

They sat in silence for several minutes; both lost in their own thoughts, waiting for the other to speak. Though she had wanted Spike in every physical sense of the word, she really did want to talk to him as much as he did her. She had never gotten the chance to ask him about what was going on when he returned from outside. There was something about him that sagged when he had come in, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders just as much as she felt it upon hers. But where did she begin? She didn't have confidence to just blurt it out like he did. She wasn't the master of initiation that he was.

Unless it revolves around slamming my lips into to his to shut him up, she added ruefully.

Spike, too, was lost as to where to begin. He wanted to ask about Faith and what she and Buffy had discussed. He wanted to tell Buffy what Faith had said to him and if she knew why. But most of all, he wanted to ask her about them. True, they had discussed it earlier but there had never been a definitive answer though it was as good of one as Buffy had ever given concerning their relationship. Still, as insecure as he was, it did nothing to alleviate the doubts within that screamed at him to rid himself of her before she broke him completely.

"So," the sound of his accented voice cut through the silence and seemed to echo through the room. "What were you laughing about earlier? When I came in?"

Buffy sighed deeply and rolled over to her back though she kept a firm grasp on Spike's hand as she gazed at the familiar nothingness of the dark. Her eyes were adjusting and she could trace slight patterns from the ceiling unlike a few minutes earlier.

"Nothing. Everything. Why does everything have to be so hard?"

Spike sighed inwardly, thinking it was the same Buffy: pitying herself that the world gave her a raw deal. He knew it wasn't fair, but sometimes she aggravated him with her victim attitude.

"Thought we went over that earlier, luv," he said as evenly as possible.

"I know," she sighed and turned back to him. "It's just that, I just can't do it all by myself. I mean, there's the house to take care of. And Dawn, oh my God. I forgot what teenagers were like. I really don't remember being so rebellious…" she stopped when she heard a snort. "What? Something funny?" she asked defensively.

"Nothing. Just the sick little notion you have in your head that you weren't rebellious."

"I wasn't," she defied in a small voice.

"Bollocks. You are the Queen of Denial, aren't you, pet?" He saw her trademark scowl surface but refused to head for higher ground. "I mean, you are the most stubborn person I know…"

"And how would you know?" she asked indignantly, eyes blazing.

"Takes one to know one, luv. Takes one to know one." Her demeanor lightened considerably and she couldn't hold in a slight chuckle.

"Well-maybe I am just a little bit headstrong."

" 'Little bit?" he scoffed. "Yeah, and bloody Siberia is just a little bit cold. Face it, Slayer, no one is as obstinate as you are. I applaud your mother for not bashing you on the head with a crowbar at an early age."

"Hey," she shrieked and slapped him on the arm. "Not a good visual."

" 'S not like she didn't have it in her as my head can attest to. Almost brained me with that bloody axe. 'Stay the hell away from my daughter.' " He smiled wistfully at the memory. "Wish I could thank her for that."

"Huh?"

"Well, if it weren't for her parental masquerade as the bloody Calvary, we wouldn't have gotten this far."

"How so?"

"C'mon, luv. I had you dead to rights and you know it. Oww," he shouted after a less than playful shot to the ribs.

"Whatever," she snorted and turned her back to him. Not two seconds later, she was back to facing him. "That's such crap. I had you right where I wanted you."

"Oh, right," he rolled his eyes at her. "Guess you were waitin' for the moment after I cracked you with the two-by-four to spring your plan into action, huh?"

She frowned for a minute before cracking a smile. "Okay, so maybe you did have me there. But I so kicked your ass on Halloween."

Spike smiled and kissed Buffy on the forehead. "Yeah, you did. Kinda had me runnin' with my tail between my legs, you did." They were silent for a few moments, reliving the close calls they had, times where one or the other could have been killed. Why had it never come to that? Neither one would ever be able to answer that question and they didn't want to know the answer. It was much better just to speculate.

"It's not just Dawn and the house," Buffy started seriously. "It's everything. I was thinking before you came in that, as much as I complain about being a slayer and the hard choices I have to make, at least I know where I fit in when it comes to that. At least I know what I'm doing. I always complain about wanting a normal life and the more I think about it, if I did get the chance to have one I'd have no idea where to start. I mean, what am I good at? Slaying? Doubt there's many job openings for that in the real world.

"I just don't know how Mom did it," she sighed and unconsciously wiped a stray tear away. "Over and over again, she did it. Get up and get Dawn ready. Go to work. Get back and fix dinner. Deal with the teenager issues. How do I deal with those when I'm not too far removed from being a teenager myself? Yeah, I may kick ass and have more battlefield experience than most Navy SEALs will ever have but what about everything else, Spike? My social and professional skills are limited at best."

"C'mon, luv. It can't be that bad. I fancy you've got skills you don't even know about."

"Like what?" She propped her head up on one elbow. "Let's have a looksie at my domestic skills first. I can't cook. I suck at driving. I can't organize my bills if my life depended on it. Then there's the whole Dawn issue. We won't even go there. Now, on to my professional expertise. Let's see what we have behind door number two. I can't type and the only job I have had is working in a fast food joint I can barely stomach. Not much in the way of career advancement there, now is it?" She snorted in frustration. "Sometimes I think that the Powers have a twisted sense of humor. 'Let's bring the Slayer back and let her live longer than any other slayer. When she gets a certain age, why don't we take away her slayer skills and watch her fumble through the rest of her life with no clue as to what to do." She dropped her head in defeat only to feel Spike's cool fingers prop her chin up.

"Look at me, Buffy." He demanded. She was taken aback at the command in his voice but complied nonetheless. "Everything you just said is nothing but rot. You know what I see when I look at you?" She shook her head. "I see the strongest woman that I know. A strong, determined, selfless individual that does things because it's the right thing to do. Not because it's easy. No skills? You think you have no skills? What about you refusal to give up? That alone puts you ahead of fifty percent of the wankers in the world. You are bold and daring, willing to take a chance. That's another twenty percent out of the way. You keep a level head when everyone else around you is falling apart. Knock out fifteen more. That leaves fifteen percent of the world."

"And that fifteen percent has what I don't, right?"

"I'm not done, pet."

"Oh," she said sheepishly.

"Then you have friends and family…and me," he lowered his head before he raised it again. "Each and every one of us will do anything, even die-for you. How many people can truly say that?"

"You would die for me?" she whispered.

Spike stared at her and Buffy couldn't help to notice it as the most sincere look she had ever seen from him. Even when he'd said he loved her, each time, he kept a small shield up to deflect the pain he knew he'd feel. In that single moment, Buffy knew.

"I'd walk into the sun itself for you, Buffy." He said softly. "Without so much as a second thought."

Buffy didn't know what to say. The honesty behind his words was staggering. This immoral creature of the night would lay down life and limb for her but she knew it was more than that. He had done the same for Dawn and she surmised he had saved the Scoobies on more than one occasion while she was gone. The more Buffy thought about it, the more she realized how lucky she truly was. To have friends--no, they weren't even friends now; they were family--that she had was a one in a million thing. So maybe she wasn't well to do in certain areas, but her support system that was her family, not to mention the love of the former Scourge of Europe. His words helped her see the truth; she was so fixated on what she didn't have or what she couldn't do that she was blind to the things that she did have and the things that she could do.

Buffy leaned in and kissed Spike again, not for the sake of passion but for the sake of gratitude. "Thank you," she said after she pulled away, "for everything."

Spike nodded, as he didn't trust his voice to express it in words. The feeling in the kiss went well beyond lust, passion, and desire. It even surpassed love. That was the beauty of it; the kiss expressed all the things she couldn't, for all the things he had done that she had no words for. It reminded him of the one she had bestowed upon his lips after his torture at the hands of Glory. But considering his deeds since, Buffy had put even more of herself into it. For that moment, the kiss was enough to tell him that she loved him. She may not have been in love with him, but she loved him in someway. Guess that may have to do, he thought. In the end, even if they only remained friends, as long as she loved him in some capacity, it would be enough. It would have to be. And he knew that that love would be what would sustain him through the rest of his days.

***Next chapter: Buffy realizes a horrible secret that Spike has kept under lock and key.