Part Five

"So… you're saying that the big bad sucking energy from Sunnydale isn't in hellmouth at all?" Buffy clarified, trying to understand what Willow was saying. Willow, Xander and Spike had shown up at her doorstep half an hour ago. They had spent the time since then awkwardly explaining that they had discovered what had been causing the recent reenactments. "And that it's actually coming from the temple that Willow raised last summer?"

Willow took a deep breath but prided herself for not tearing up again. "Yes."

"Okay," Buffy accepted easily. "So what do we do?"

"Well, we need to replace the barrier. It's actually a fairly simple spell." Willow held out a paper. "Here's a list of the ingredients we're going to need. I have most of them, but there's a few that I was hoping you might have here."

Buffy took the paper and read aloud, "Sage. Caraway. Cinnamon?"

"At least the spell's going to smell good for a change," Xander pointed out.

"Hey, don't all my spells smell good?" Willow asked in mock offense. Buffy crinkled her nose.

"That nasty tea you made me with the demon's blood last year? Not so appetizing."

"In my defense," Willow said. "That wasn't technically a spell. And you also didn't even drink it the first time, so no complaining."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "It's not my fault it smelled so bad it made me want to stay in a mental institution."

"Hey, Will, you know what you should do," Xander began. "Make a spell that'll be a permanent air freshener. You could market it, make millions."

As Xander continued on the theory of air fresheners, Buffy turned to glance at her sister. Dawn was sitting awfully quietly on the couch beside her, and Buffy got the feeling the proximity to Spike was disturbing her. Buffy thought it was a cruel twist of fate that the sexual assault scene appeared to have affected Dawn much more deeply than it had even Buffy herself. She turned her gaze to Spike. He was seated on the edge of the couch, next to the table lamp, and the light was casting his sharp features into high relief. Maybe, Buffy thought, if she could get Spike and Dawn to talk, maybe he could make her feel better about the whole situation. Because Buffy sure wasn't helping. She was far too screwed up and confused herself to offer any advice.

"Here Dawn." Buffy handed her sister the ingredients list. "Can you go make sure we have all of these?"

Dawn nodded and silently took the paper, heading towards the kitchen.

"Oh, uh, Spike?" Buffy asked as soon as her sister was out of the room. She was immediately caught off guard by the way her heart leapt when his blue eyes turned to her. This was not the time to sort out her crazy love life, though. "Can you go help her, make sure she knows what everything is?"

He frowned a little, but complied.

"Hello, Dawn," he said quietly. Dawn jumped.

"What are you doing here?" she asked darkly when she realized who it was. She turned back to the spice rack.

"Big sis asked me to come… make sure you knew what all the spices were." He stood awkwardly near the doorway.

"They're labeled. In English," Dawn pointed out dryly. She pulled the cinnamon jar down and placed it in with a small pile of other spices on the counter.

"I can see that," he said quietly, and looked down at the floor.

"Buffy, I want to leave Spike here at your house tomorrow while we're at the bluffs."

"What?" Buffy turned to Willow, sure she had heard her wrong. "You don't trust him home alone?"

"No, it's not like—okay, maybe it is like that." Willow sighed. "When we leave him alone, he has a tendency to…"

"Hurt himself," Xander finished for her, his voice low.

Buffy frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, the usual," Xander said. "Knives, sunlight, crosses…"

Buffy looked between her friends in shock.

"Well, not lately," Willow hedged, trying to downplay it. "He's been okay for at least two weeks now, but…  I don't know how long Xander and I are going to be tomorrow, and I don't want to take any chances."

"You want me to baby-sit a 200-year-old vampire?" Buffy asked incredulously.

"Actually, he's only 122 – but, yes." Willow nodded. "I mean, you don't work on Fridays anyways, right? So you'll be home."

Buffy nodded reluctantly.

"You can go tell Buffy that I am still capable of reading English," Dawn said when after a few moments Spike still hadn't left.

"Are you all right, Dawn?" he asked seriously.

"Of course I'm all right," she said annoyed. "Now go tell Buffy—"

"Something's wrong," he insisted, pushing off the doorframe to take a cautious step forward.

"Everything's wrong!" she exclaimed. "But you can't fix any of it, so just go away."

"Your sis sent me in here for a reason," he said. "She wouldn't even talk to me unless she had a bloody good cause, and even then she'd try to find a way around it. But she asked me to come in 'ere, so I figure she wants you and me to have a little chit chat."

"I have nothing to talk to you about." But she did. And there had been a time when she would have curled up next to him and tearfully told him everything, confessed all her fears and doubts. But that had been before he had been the cause of them. Before the Bathroom. Before the Soul. Before fucking up her entire life, no matter how inadvertently he had done so.

Spike paused a beat and then turned to leave. "All right, then."

"Wait." Dawn took a deep breath, and wondered if maybe, maybe she could give him a second chance. Maybe he could tell her that that stuff in the bathroom hadn't been real, hadn't really happened. She wanted to beg him to tell her a joke, make her laugh again. She wanted to throw her arms around him, let him cradle her head against his broad chest.

"Yeah, pet?" He looked back at her and Dawn felt tears well up in her eyes. He wasn't her Spike anymore, if in fact he ever had been. His chest was not so broad now. The vampire before her was broken, crushed and she knew he could never again be to her what she needed.

"Nothing."

"So all we're missing is caraway, right?" Xander confirmed, and Willow nodded. "Okay, Buff. We're going to stop by the store on the way home and then we'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

Buffy nodded, and watched as Xander, Willow and Spike walked back to the car. She was lost in thought about the next morning. Wondering how she was going to pass more than fifteen minutes in conversation with Spike. As much as she dreaded it, half of her was looking forward to it. Maybe, finally, they'd be able to talk and sort their baggage out. Not all of it, because Buffy alone had enough relationship baggage to fill a 747, but maybe enough to make their next encounter less awkward.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Next morning

"You can talk to me, you know."

Spike looked up from the bookcase, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Can I now?"

"You don't have to act like I'm some kind of leper," Buffy said, watching him closely from her seat in the armchair. He had been carefully avoiding her ever since Willow and Xander had dropped him off over an hour ago.

"No, not you, pet," he assured her softly. "Just figured as you didn't want me here in the first place, might as well stay out of your way."

"Well, yeah," she agreed. He was perceptive as always. But she watched as he turned back to the bookcase, not quite shielding the pain on his face. "Spike, come sit down, okay?"

She hated how he looked at her with those desperate blue eyes. It was as if anything from her, the smallest crumb, made his life worth living. She couldn't deal with that kind of responsibility, with that kind of love.

"Spike, I'm stupid."

He frowned slightly. "Not following you, love."

She sighed loudly. "I'm stupid. I don't know what I'm doing with my life, or with Dawn or my friends or anything. I'm confused," she admitted. "And I can't see straight about anything."

He leaned forward, listening but not judging. The same way he always used to, back when no one else could hear her.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. With anything anymore." She shook her head. "Like Dawn, she's having problems and I try to help, but I can't. And my own life's so screwed up, what's my advice worth anyways?"

She took a deep breath and continued: "And I don't know what I'm supposed to do with you. Especially with you." This was the hard part, but she needed to say it, needed to make him understand. "You came back and… I knew I was supposed to be angry. You broke my trust and you hurt me and if I'd been worth anything as a slayer I would have staked you right then and there. But I didn't. I couldn't."

She fingered the cuff of her long-sleeved shirt as she spoke. "And when you came back I wasn't angry. I was as confused as I'd ever been, and I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to forgive you, and part of me never could. Part of me couldn't even forgive myself for all I'd done."

She continued, still avoiding his intense gaze. "Every day since that night in the church I find myself wishing that I had stayed, that I hadn't left you there. I mean, look at me, ungrateful Buffy. A vampire goes off and gets a soul for me, and what do I do? I completely abandon him. I didn't even see you for like a month and…"

"Pet," he interrupted gently. "You didn't owe me anything. You still don't."

"I know, I just…" She stood up and paced across the living room, her back to him. "I just wish I wasn't so scared. I wish I could be… I don't know." She shook her head and headed for the stairs. "I'll be right back."

"A family reunion?" Brian repeated.

Dawn caught the surprise and disappointment in his eyes and then remembered she was trying to avoid eye contact. She focused on the long line of lockers. She wondered idly if the bell had already rung, because everyone else seemed to be in class. "Yeah, um, big deal, you know. Family and all."

"All weekend?" he asked. "You can't get away for a few hours? We can cut the dance short if you have to."

"No, it's uh… out of town," she said. "In Birmingham."

"Alabama?"

"Yeah, that's, uh, where my family's from," she said, pretty sure that he could see straight through her lie.

"Oh, okay," he acquiesced. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah," Dawn said softly. She followed him with her eyes as he walked away.

Buffy splashed her face with cold water, trying to stave off the tears she had felt forming in her eyes. She looked up at herself in the mirror. God, what did he even see in her? She felt her fist tighten around the tap. A stupid little twenty-one year old girl, lost adrift in this chaotic world. Blind and stupid. And why did everything have to be so hard, anyways? Why was one part of her drawn to him – why did one part of her remember the tenderness he had shown her, and wonder how much more tender he'd be now with his soul? Why did she still remember the fire, the sparks when their lips touched?

And if she had to remember all of that, why did another part of her have to remember the violence and the darkness? The beatings and the handcuffs and the attempted rape and the screaming and how he didn't stop. Why didn't he stop? Why couldn't he have just fucking stopped?

She felt a snap and a spray of water and it brought her back to the present. She looked down in horror as she realized that she had snapped the faucet clean off of the bathroom sink. Damnit. Now water was spurting straight up, making her bathroom into some kind of fantastic fountain.

She tried shoving the faucet back on, but it didn't stick when she let it go.

"Spike!" she called out.

"So here we are," Xander said, standing next to Willow as they took in the temple still rising above the sandy Sunnydale bluffs.

Willow nodded hesitantly, her heart speeding up at the proximity to the very spot where She. Almost. Ended. The world. If it had been a happier memory, one of coming home after a long absence, she would have started pointing out the sights. Oh, look, here, that's where I stood while I was trying to channel all of the world's energies through me. Oh, and look, there's where I tried to smite you down, Xander. And, right here, here's where the world didn't end because you were stupid and brave enough to stand up to crazed maniacal Willow.

She took a deep breath and took the round white tablecloth from Xander, spreading it unevenly over the sand.

"Where do you want these?" Xander asked, holding up a bag full of candles.

"Just put them in a circle around the center of the blanket here." Willow took out a bowl full of the carefully mixed spell solution and placed it in the center of the cloth. She sat down cross-legged on the sand and started meditating to clear her head before beginning.

Xander touched his match to the last of pure white candles. Once it was burning on its own, he blew out the match. He looked up at his friend, squinting in the brightness of the sun.

"You ready?"

Willow hesitated only a moment before nodding.

Spike immediately raced up the stairs. As soon as he noticed the slayer, face and hair splashed with dripping water, fighting an epic battle with the bathroom faucet, old snarky Spike wanted to come out to play. It was all he could do to push down the smirk and caustic comment boiling under the surface.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"Um, wrench. Wrench would be of the good." Her wet hair sprinkled water across the bathroom as she nodded decisively.

"Where is it?" he asked. It had been at least a year since he had last looted her house and things had probably moved since then. He cringed slightly at the memory of stealing from her of all people.

"Basement," she said. "No, wait… um, kitchen. Junk drawer."

"Junk drawer?"

"Yeah, it's the second one on the left from the fridge. Or is it the right?" Buffy frowned. "You know what, you hold this down and I'll go get it."

Spike approached the sink again and reached for the broken faucet, their hands brushing against each other as they traded places. Their eyes met with a jerk, both shocked by the sensation of each other's touch.

"Spike," Buffy said hoarsely. She cleared her throat. "We need to talk."

"Sure, pet." He glanced down at the spurting faucet. "But you couldn't have picked a better time?"

"I'm sorry," Buffy said, looking up at him. Their hands were still touching and her face was so close that he could feel her breath. "Not that it matters anymore." She looked down. "I just… needed you to know that."

"Buffy, you've got nothing to be—"

"I know you feel like I do," she cut him off. "You don't have to hide it anymore."

The meaning of her words came crashing down on him like an avalanche. He dropped the faucet, letting the water spurt up into the bathroom, and backed away from her quickly, panicked.

"Buffy," he pleaded. "Please don't do this."

"Let yourself feel it," Buffy said, advancing on him. Spike tried to back out of the bathroom, but banged instead into the door. It slammed shut behind him. He was reaching around to grab the handle when Buffy caught his shoulder in her slayer-strength grip.

"I know you love me."

Willow suddenly stopped chanting and she opened her eyes.

"Is it done?" Xander asked, watching her glance around in confusion.

"No…" she said, frowning. "Something's wrong… oh." She sighed in relief. "The candle just went out."

Xander pulled out his matchbox. "Ready to go again?"

Willow closed her eyes and nodded.

Spike found himself slammed onto the floor, his head banging against the tiles. He tried to inch away from her, but it was no use. Buffy was already on top of him, pinning his arms and legs down with her own. He forced himself to look up into her flushed face.

"Buffy, stop this," he pleaded. "You can stop. Please."

She savagely grabbed his shirt and ripped it down the center in one jerk of her hand. "Let yourself feel it. Let yourself—"

"Stop!" Spike yelled but to deaf ears. Her fingernails tore down his now-naked chest, drawing blood without intention. "Buffy, stop!"

"You love me," she insisted.

"No, Buffy, please…" Spike begged, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. So this is what it felt like. So this is what he had looked like to her, desperate and raging, like a deranged animal.

"I know you felt it," she said desperately. "When you were inside me."

So this is the monster he was and would always be.

"What happened with Brian?"

Dawn frowned at Theresa. When her teacher's back turned, she whispered back: "What did you hear?"

"I heard he's taking Kathy Reynolds to Homecoming."

"I thought she had a boyfriend."

"I guess they broke up last night. I thought you were going with him, though."

"I had to cancel," she whispered.

Theresa looked at her like she was crazy. "What were you thinking? He's such a hottie."

Dawn frowned. "I didn't think he'd get another date in, like, not even an hour."

"You never going to get another chance like that, you know," she said. "How many other senior boys are going to ask you out, like, ever?"

"Buffy, don't!" He struggled desperately beneath her, trying to get any kind of hold, any kind of leverage, but she was too strong, too damn strong… "No…" he trailed off. Tears ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the tiled floor beneath them. "Please, Buffy, please. Please, stop!"

From above him, she ripped off the rest of his shirt, sending it flying across the bathroom. Spike distantly felt the spray of cold water on his chest from the forgotten faucet.

"Let yourself love me," she commanded desperately. She reached down with one hand and jerked open the fly of his jeans. The button popped off and clattered against the wall. This wasn't happening, Spike told himself. This wasn't possible. This was a nightmare or something. This wasn't—

He watched helplessly as she ripped off her own pants, managing somehow to do so without giving him even an ounce of leverage with which he could have escaped this terrible scene.

"Buffy," he continued pleading. "Buffy, please stop. Please."

"Shit!" Willow cried out in the middle of her incantation. Xander, who had once again stopped paying attention as soon as the Latin part had started, immediately jerked to attention.

"What is it? Will, what's wrong?" he asked, panicked.

She shook her head, her light red hair tossing behind her in the wind. "Sorry, Xan, I'm a little on edge." She gestured towards the candles. "They blew out again. I'm going to have to start all over. Next time I try to end the world, remind me not to do it on top of a hill, okay?"

"You're going to feel it," Buffy reached down to stroke him. It was all pain and suffering and nails and… Spike felt his tears come harder when it was enough. She grinned down at him. "You're going to feel it again."

This shouldn't be happening. The thought ran over and over in his mind. It shouldn't be going this far. None of the other reenactments ever went further than they had in real life. It should be over by now. It should be over, but it wasn't. It wasn't. New tears streamed down Spike's face as Buffy forced him into her.

It was the most horrible feeling in the world. He tried to throw up, but he couldn't even do that. He tried to break free, but she still had him pinned too tightly. He tried to cry out to her, but his voice wouldn't sound. There was nothing. Nothing left for him but the perverse rhythm she was setting and the cold water sprinkling over them.

"Will, look, it's working!" Xander called out and Willow opened her eyes. Before them, with a low rumble that was almost mechanical, the cursed temple was sliding back into the hell from which it came.

Willow couldn't help but smile. She bit her lip as she watched it slowly disappear into the sand in the bright morning sunlight. "We fixed it," she said. "We really did it."

Willow stood up and Xander slung an arm around her back. He kissed the top of her head. "I knew you could do it."

All color drained from Buffy's face. Despite her ugly, perverse position she found herself paralyzed. Straddling Spike's hips, feeling him in the depths of her body… She stared down at him in abject horror.

Spike knew now why it had gone this far. Because it would have. Because if he had been stronger than Buffy, if she hadn't been able to stop him, it would have gone this far, all these months ago. The answer to the age-old question was finally here. Would he have actually done it?

Yes.

Nothing, not a soul, not forgiveness, nothing could save him from the fact that he would have done it. He would have hurt, would have raped, this beautiful, strong, shining woman he loved so much.

He shoved Buffy roughly off of him. She sunk, still in shock, to the floor.

Without looking back, Spike ran.

Buffy found herself lying prostrate on the bathroom floor right where he had left her. She struggled quickly to her feet, tripping over her own jeans in the process.

"Spike!" she called after him, pulling her tattered pants back up over her hips. She heard footsteps run down the stairs. She took another breath to yell for him, but suddenly heard the front door slam.

Willow stared at the disappearing temple, unable to completely conceal a grin as the steeple sunk underground. She looked at the magic circle of candles, and her cinnamon-flavored brew. "There's some perfume for you, Spike."

 "What was that?" Xander asked, his arm still slung around her shoulders.

"Oh, nothing. Just something Spike said." She smiled. "I think he's wrong."

He snorted. "Because that would be a first."

 "Spike!" Buffy yelled as she ran for the front door. "Spike!"

She yanked it open but all she saw was the sunlight pouring in. Suddenly she remembered that the remnants of his shirt were still scattered in the bathroom. She glanced desperately over to the living room. His blanket was still there, draped mockingly over the back of the couch.

"No," she said in horror, clapping her hand over her mouth. She turned back towards the door and stared out into the bright sunny day. "No…"

finis

Okay, now that's it's over, here's my official plea for feedback. Tell me what you liked, what you hated, what you wish I'd done differently, why you're ready to kill me for ending it like this… My address is cerdd_gwen@hotmail.com or leave a review here at fanfiction.net.