Lieto Fine

I'm under your spell, so easily tortured
Not knowing how this could turn out 'til it's over
But you take away inhibitions I have in my heart
You give me all the things I needed for so long
So stop me now, even if it is love, even if it is love I feel...
Even If' by Lift

Buffy's eyes drifted open. At least she thought they did. Because there was not much difference between the darkness of the forest and the darkness of her eyelids. She stared down at the ground as if hardly believing it was there. Beneath her. Nausea suddenly reminded her that she had a body and she scrambled to all-fours. She wasn't sure if she could stand just yet. Scrambling forward along the hard leaf-strewn ground she stumbled over a pair of legs. Her own legs. No... His legs. They were his again, not hers. Her legs had been the ones climbing over his. Did that make sense?

She barely had time to ponder this before another wave of nausea hit her and she fought to move further away to where the grass was longer and pebbles didn't stick into her legs. As she reached the slightly softer ground her stomach decided it couldn't wait any longer and she began to wretch. She honestly didn't think she'd ever, in her whole life, eaten that much. With cold-sweat beading on her forehead, and bile burning the back of her throat, she sat up tentatively. Her hair swept around her face in curtains so that she could only see marginal parts of her surroundings, which was just fine with her.

The Slayer's mind kept dancing back to memories that she was sure were hers, only they weren't. They couldn't be. But seeing as she did kinda live them, weren't they part of her... really? No. That wasn't her that had done those things. Any of it. The killing, the sex, the tea-parties. None of it was her.

She touched a hand up to her forehead which was beginning to ache and discovered thick redness on her exploratory fingertips. She was bleeding. Carefully she probed the wound, deciding that it would probably need a stitch or two if she didn't want it to scar. And she didn't want it to. Unlike some, who shall remain nameless, Buffy the Vampire Slayer doesn't enjoy reminders of past battles tattooed across her forehead. Or tattoos of her embarrassing three-foot plummet towards earth.

Her pointed reminders of battle scars suddenly reminded her of her partner. Her mist partner. Who must have also fallen with her. For a moment she thought he'd left her, and she imagined killing him in a variety of ways, before remembering the limbs she'd almost tripped over a moment before. Buffy brushed her hair back from her face and turned around, feeling the muscles of her back aching as she did so. Sprawled against the floor a few feet away was Spike, his arm twisted under him at a painful angle. He wasn't moving. The only thing that stopped her from panicking -- other than the fact that she did not care about him -- was the fact that Vamps get dusty when they die, which Spike so obviously wasn't.

***

Spike woke with a roaring hunger gnawing at his insides. It felt as if a monster was sitting inside him, claws dug into his chest, and tearing at his organs. Which really... it was. He gasped, sucking in vast quantities of air. Air that used to be life. But now it just inflated his lungs before being pushed out by the dead-weight of his undead flesh. His eyes snapped open, yellow and fierce, and sought out something to sate the pain within his limbs. Anything to stop the desperate need.

He felt alone, surrounded by trees. They negative colour of his Vampire sight lit up woods around him, but only to a small degree. His left arm hurt, and was probably broken, but what attracted him to the break, more than the pain, was the blood. Soaking through his clothes, thick scented. Within a second of smelling it he knew that was what he needed. Knew it with an overwhelming feeling of certainty. And with that he began to seek it out. He stretched his Vampire senses out as he tried to target a warmer source of blood. But he didn't have to look very far. A steady thudding in his ears brought his attention to it. It took him a moment to realise that the noise was a heartbeat. A little longer to realise that it was not his own. Holding his arm to his side protectively, Spike turned around where he was crouched on the ground and stared at--

Yes Spike, its me. she replied, her voice tired. She didn't seem to be paying much attention to him. Which was good. If she had been then she'd have noticed the rapid change from demon to human mask that his face underwent at the sight of her. A cut on her forehead oozed blood down the side of her face sporadically. He found his eyes drawn to the wound, even as his brain panicked and told him to back off.

Are you... he licked his lips,

Buffy touched a hand to her forehead with realisation, Oh, its just a cut. she lowered her bloodied fingers back to her lap, not noticing Spike's eyes following them before snapping back to her face.

he said, after a pause, his eyes never leaving her face. He seemed mesmerised. It took her a moment to realise that he was not exactly staring into her eyes. He was looking at the cut. Covertly she flipped some hair over her face and turned it to the side.

Uh... How's your arm? she asked uncomfortably.

he answered simply, the blood on her forehead was still visible through the blonde sheet of hair. If he just tilted his head a little--

Spike? Are you all right?

Spike straightened, a guilty feeling trying to assault his gut before he banished it, Oh, yeah, I'm fine. He might be a Vampire, but he was no fledgling. He would not attack this girl. This Slayer. He could control himself. He was not a monster. That's kinda the problem isn't it? Not monster enough for Dru, not man enough for the Slayer. He really didn't fit in anywhere. Who says I want the Slayer anyway? he asked himself, angrily.

The question hung in his mind unanswered for an impossibly long time, his eyes cast upon a distant strip of grass as if it was very interesting. It was not as if the answer was a hard one. Or as if it wasn't on the tip of his tongue. But that it was an impossible one, that if voiced, could lead to him being staked. And that wasn't even the worse-case-synario . The blankness in his mind was more brought about by the deafening nothingness that came with only his own thoughts being in his mind. No longer did someone else's ideas pop into his brain at random moments.

Buffy shifting position was finally the thing that snapped him out of his mind. She had said very patiently watching him think, but now was getting bored. And more than a little uneasy. When he had first looked at her it was as if he wanted to devour her, all of her. As if he needed her to live. The heat simply coming from his eyes was sizzling. But now he looked at her as if she was very far away. He made her feel lost.

Are you sure your arm... her question trailed off. She just wanted to get some reaction out of him other than staring.

Yeah... Vampire healing.

She nodded, and nervously rubbed her own arm with absent-minded fingers. Forced out of his thoughts the bloodlust crashed down upon Spike again, making it hard for him to breath. Except for he didn't need to. He didn't breath. Undead and all. With that knowledge he stopped trying, but he still felt the burning in his chest as if he needed oxygen. It was devouring him from the inside. His eyes immediately fell back upon Buffy. And he didn't see the Slayer. His Slayer. He saw her blood. Warm, thick and pumping around her veins. He was starving for it. Starving for her. But he couldn't act on it. Couldn't touch her. She was a part of him now. Just as William was.

It didn't stop her from looking tempting though.

Buffy stretched out tired muscles as she tried to forget about the bad-guy who seemed to have disappeared for the moment. And also to ignore Spike and his wide eyes, that were on her again. She stretched first one, then the other, arm out in front of her feeling the bones slide against each other nicely. She rolled her head to one side, presenting her scalp to Spike as she rubbed the exposed side of her neck. Once satisfied that was all right she performed the same move with the other side of her neck.

Spike was glad he couldn't breath, because he would have been turning blue now from the lack-of-it he would be doing. Watching the tousled Slayer toss her hair was bad enough, but when she tilted her head away from him and rubbed her neck in a way that screamed invite' he wanted to leap at her right then. Her eyes were closed and her fingers just continued to caress the skin of her neck. The hunger inside him told him to jump. The lust inside him told him to move. The demon inside him told him that she wanted it. She was the Slayer, she knew what that gesture meant to Vampires. She was offering her blood to him. She wanted him to have it. If he had been more rational he might have seen through those base thoughts. But he wasn't.

Buffy heard a low growl emit from Spike, which was the only warning she got before attack. But it was enough. She had turned around fully, her arms outstretched to defend seconds before he smashed into her. His whole body seemed to have risen off the ground and flown at him like that of a big cat. She landed on her back, him on top of her, demon face looking down into hers. She didn't scream. Slayers didn't scream. Instead she took a split second to realise her predicament. Her arms were braced against his chest, the only thing holding him back from her neck. Her legs were pinned helplessly beneath his. He was growling down at her, as if the person she had known since he had entered Sunnydale had vanished and this beast was all that was left.

Buffy gasped, torn between turning her head to the side so as not to lock gazes, and protecting her neck. The second impulse won out and she stared up into his golden eyes, not filled with desire, or longing, now just with insatiable hunger.

she whispered, finding it hard to breath with his body crushing hers, Spike. Listen to me. he didn't respond, Listen. Listen, Spike. She wasn't sure why she was trying to speak to him, but she just felt that if she could distract him then she might be able to save herself. She had an idea, stemming from her memories, or his.

W-William? Listen to me. this at least seemed to break though to him, but not in the way she had hoped. If anything it seemed to make him more angry.

I'm. Not. Him. He snarled.

she tried to free her legs as she spoke.

William. William the bloody poet. I'm. Not. Him.

But once--

NO! I am not him. I'm the demon. The demon that took his body. I'm not him. Somewhere between the beginning of his protestations and the end Spike's human mask slipped back into place, and his pressing against Buffy's body became less urgent. His voice towards the end became almost pathetic, as if he was defending himself from a very old taunt. I'm not. he finished, almost sulkily.

Buffy breathed. Suddenly Spike couldn't meet her gaze, his eyes darted everywhere but there. Her hair, her forehead, her nose, her lips... Anywhere but her eyes. After a long silence he coughed.

I'm the one who should be sorry Slayer, jumping you like that.

Uh yeah... Buffy watched his eyes dart about, Said we were going to wait until after the battle before any of that stuff.

What stuff? Spike asked playfully, raising an eyebrow and instinctively locking gazes to gauge the level of disgust on her face.

There was none. And suddenly, as hazel met blue, both parties were aware of how close they actually were to one another. How much they were touching. Her hands were still against his chest, but she wasn't trying to push him away any longer. So they were just resting against his clothed flesh. His body was pressing down onto hers, and their faces were actually very close together.

Buffy broke the thick silence around them, and as if snapping herself out of a coma, burst into action. She pushed him off of her and leapt to her feet to keep the distance between them.

he said suddenly.

Buffy blinked, wondering if that was some kind of British sexual innuendo.

he said again, patiently. When she still didn't seem to understand he reached down into the grass and pulled up a glowing lump of clay.

he seemed smug, and she pretended it was about finding something, We have the weapon, where's the beast? He stood up and looked about the clearing with annoyance.

Buffy turned so that he was to her back and stared out into the blackness of the forest. If she glanced up she knew she would see a spattering of stars through the tree branches, but her body's equilibrium wasn't ready to be that shaken up yet. Spike waited for an impossibly long moment before repeating with emphasis,

We have the weapon, where's the beast? he glanced around emphatically, as if expecting something to just appear.

Buffy turned to him, her eyes narrowed, You just said that.

I know. Spike admitted after a few more seconds of searching with his eyes, I just thought that might be the line he was waiting for. he shrugged sincerely, Sometimes even I forget we don't live in a bloody soap opera.

For the love of... Buffy sighed and turned back to the forest. She was reluctant to move from where they were, but knew that it might come down to them searching for Kakeaner again. Great. Instead of putting forward the inevitable suggestion of moving she decided to delay time with a little Spike-bashing, You really thought that would work? God, Vampires are stupid. Though I guess it explains all the cheesy catchphrases I hear. Boy are they bad. You thought you could just say something and he'd appear? Poof?

Buffy found herself facing Spike again, her arms spread expressively. To answer her rant Spike pointed with his good arm towards a spot at her back. Buffy turned to be confronted by a rather large wolf less than ten feet away from her. Instead of panicking, she gritted her teeth and snarled back at Spike,

Don't. Say. A. Word.

Spike mimicked with amusement.

I said... Buffy twisted around on the spot to show Spike exactly how angry she was with him by glaring. Instead of seeing an annoying smirk on his face she saw concern just before he knocked her to the ground. Again. Seconds later a wolf leapt over the couple and landed a few feet away.

Buffy tried to scramble out from beneath the Vampire, What are you--

I just saved you! he protested.

Its immaterial, you jerk! It would have gone straight through me. Buffy snapped as she stood up again. Spike rose a few moments later.

he mumbled. Then after some more glaring on Buffy's part he produced the talisman, still glowing, in the hand of his good arm, Guess we use this now then. It sounded like a question even though he had intended it to be a statement.

Hang on... Buffy stalled, waving a hand as she ran off into the woods behind him. Spike stared after her for a moment before turning to eye the wolf. Except for now it was a leopard. Kakeaner's toneless eyes connected with Spike and the Vampire growled. He really wanted to kill this beast. There just weren't enough mounted animals these days. It had fucked up with his head, and there was nothing that Spike hated more than that--

Got it!

Spike broke eye-contact with the Leopard to glance behind him. Buffy was scrambling back through the undergrowth into the clearing with a battle-axe in her hands. Spike turned back to Kakeaner and his human mask melted away to reveal his Vampire face. He didn't need weapons to fight this thing. But let the Slayer have them if it gave her comfort. It wasn't like having Spike in the battle was going to give her comfort. He shifted his stance ever-so-slightly, pressing his wounded arm against his side where he hoped it would not hinder him too much. Once the Slayer had joined him by his side he raised the talisman in his good hand and waited.

Buffy breathed in, then out. It was nice to be able to watch an opponent for a while before a battle. She felt, rather than saw, Spike shift his position beside her. It was as if they were connected. And that connection wasn't as cliché as it sounded. Vampire. Slayer. She could sense him and he could sense her. This would hopefully be an interesting battle.

What are you waiting for?

The voice in both of their minds was a shock and they exchanged silent urgent glanced to check with the other that they weren't going crazy. Or if they were they were doing it together.

Throw your trinket. Make it so I can touch you. I long to tear your throats out.

See Spike... Buffy said with the air of someone giving a lecture,

Spike nodded, trying to keep himself feeling as light as Buffy obviously was. Forest air or something. But mostly he was trying to hide the way that the voice grated against his bones, through the marrow and along the joints. It wasn't the actual words said, he agreed that they were pretty pathetic, but it was the voice. The things it had said to him before, and the reminder of what it could do to him. Why was he just standing here? He should be fighting--killing it.

The Vampire pulled his arm back and threw the glowing talisman at the leopard, which sat completely still and let itself get hit. There was a white-gold flash that made the back of Spike's eyeballs burn, then gradually the world faded back into focus again. Slowly back into shape and colour. And there was nothing in front of them but forest. Trees, bushes and woodland animals. Nothing else.

Buffy blinked at the spot where the leopard had been sitting. She looked down at the axe she had barely had time to raise after Spike's sudden decision. Then she looked across at Spike, who was standing much the same as he had been before.

You blew it up. Buffy said thickly.

A heavy force smashed into her back, pushing her headfirst towards the ground. She hit it with a groan and a snap of at least one rib, the ambusher still holding her down. Blackness threatened to take over her vision, but only for the briefest of moments before the claws dug into her back. It felt like ten small knives being pushed into her flesh at once, and she knew once they started tearing she would be dead.

she heard Spike shout, though she couldn't tell where he was. Whether he was trying to help her or just sitting down to watch the show.

But she was The Slayer. And she'd fought worse things that an oversized cat trying to use her as a scratching post. Using her arms to brace herself against the ground, she rolled to her left with all her strength. The leopard rolled too, its claws unhooking, or tearing free of her skin. Somewhere in the back of her head she knew that she would have to get to a hospital after this. But she was holding that thought back for if she survived. Climbing to her feet, again, she saw Spike clutching the axe just above the leopard.

Or what had formerly been a leopard. Because now that it was material, Kakeaner did not look like he did on the packaging. Gone was the fur, which was replaced with graphite-coloured scales. Its eyes were almost all blackness, but for the peekings of red irises near the tear ducts. Its paws' were the most catlike thing about it, the retractable claws on full show. It had no tail, and the teeth poking obscenely from its mouth were not pearly-white, more greeny-grey.

Spike hacked at the beast as if it was a tree, the axe cutting into the dark-grey scales and revealing pink flesh underneath with an ease that was almost impossible. Or that was how Buffy saw it at least. Until she remembered, duh, Vampire strength. He was strong, but she was the Slayer. He could hold off the beast, she could kill it. As Spike moved away from the gargoyle-like monsters, sans wings, Buffy sped in.

A sweeping-kick to the side of the monsters head deflected his attention enough for her to move in closer and land her fists on the soft-spot under his jaw. As soon as her hand brushed against the scales of the creature's throat she went onto auto-pilot. Kicking and punching when her body told her to, hardly aware that it was her mind ordering her body to move in the first place. More than once the scales dug deeply into her bare hands and arms, inviting blood to the surface.

Spike watched the Slayer fight, torn between awe and annoyance at her skills. He smelt blood, and stood at the ready to jump in should she need him. But she didn't even seem to notice her wounds. He didn't blame her. That thing had done something to her that no human should have to experience. The crime against the demon, him, wasn't so bad. Because he was a thing damned anyway. He understood that. It didn't stop him wanting a piece of this demon's hide as well though.

Buffy gasped at the claws dug into her calf and, leaving torn ligaments and muscles in their wake. She fell to the ground, and immediately Spike was there. She would almost have thought that he cared, except for he didn't spare her a second glance, instead he advanced upon the demon, axe raised and his own bestial face showing. He roared and charged the animal, swinging the axe down to take off its head. Except for the thing moved and the axe only embedded itself in the beast's shoulder. Snapping around the monster launched itself at Spike and slashed open his forearm, with one paw before the other knocked him down. Blood dripped down Spike's arm and made the axe slippery in his grip. He tried to hack again but the weapon simply dropped from his grasp. Would he die now? When demons died there was no chance of heaven, only hell. Even if they had been good. Which Spike had not been, and was not, and never planned to be. Was this creature going to be the one to kill him?

Kakeaner was suddenly pealed away from his view, and his body, by a very pissed Slayer. She was holding one of her legs off the ground and Spike could tell it was badly injured, but still she stood.

Oh please, if anyone is going to kill him it'll be me. She leant down and picked up the axe from the ground, disgust only showing vaguely on her face at its state. Once she straightened she continued talking, her eyes never leaving the beast. And what were you going to do, decapitate him with your jaws? Cause, ew!

The beast growled, but if it was swapping insults with the Slayer, it was in a language she could not understand.

I find... Buffy advanced, the foot of her useless leg only touching the ground when it had to. The pair circled each other, she raised the axe in one hand, winced, then placed two onto it. Perhaps the sweep down was just supposed to be a random parry, a feint, but it struck home once. Right on the creature's neck. If blood fell she couldn't see it, but encouraged she swung again, and again, until he was lying on the ground, twitching. She moved forward and clinically dealt the killing blow. Only then did she finish her line that Kakeaner would never get to hear. ...axes get the job done a lot easier.

Buffy stared from the axe to the beast in disbelief, as if suddenly the Slayer part of her had disappeared and she was appalled by what she had done. Disgusted. But that quickly dissipated, or was hidden, and instead she held up the axe once more. Her nose wrinkled adorably and her eyes narrowed as she added for anyone who was listening. Ick... But not cleaner..

Spike stared at his Slayer, hair in disarray, cheeks pale from blood-loss, gashed all over her body, and he saw her. Properly. Powerful. Feminine. Killer. Lover. Girl. Woman. Everything that had dammed him as a man and cultivated him as a monster. She was beautiful. And he couldn't quite believe he hadn't noticed it properly before. He was broken from his sickeningly revelation by her speaking.

What are you staring at? Buffy complained as she inspected the axe. He quickly looked away as if he really was that blushing poet everyone mistook him for, Oh please, Spike, its hardly time now for you to get a little squeamish. she lowered her voice, I've seen what you've done.

Spike composed himself and stood, Guess its my turn now.

Buffy questioned, his voice duller on her ears as she listened to the roaring of blood around her head. Her damaged leg was going numb and the broken rib was making her chest constrict painfully as she breathed, What are you talking about?

My turn to die... Spike offered, his voice impatient,

She did remember, --I'm not going to kill you now.

Spike frowned, this conversation turning in an unexpected direction.

Well perhaps if you could help me to sit down instead of just standing there until I faint, I could tell you. she snapped, annoyed by having to ask for help in general, and specifically from him. Surprisingly Spike resisted the snarky comment that would easily had tripped off his lips and instead he moved forward to help. He pried her fingers from the axe and dropped it to the ground. Once the weapon had left her grip she seemed to crumble, as if it was her only connection to the Slayer strength she used to wield it. He caught her quickly enough as she sagged, her torn-up leg finally giving in. With one arm around her middle and the other held useless and broken at his side Spike helped the Slayer over to a tree, then lowered her to the ground so that her back was against the trunk and she didn't need to use bravado to keep her spine straight.

He knelt beside her, ignoring his wounded arm and the blood flowing from its extra wounds, instead reaching up and brushing blood-matted hair away from her face. She watched him warily, and it took him a while to realise why. As if the memory of it was a trigger, the bloodlust awoke again in him. But this time, with a scary simplicity, he forced it back down and instead pasted a gentle smile onto his face.

Good fight Slayer.

Thank you. she smiled softly. His hand lingered on her face until she spoke again, when he pulled it back as if he was scared, Uh.. How's your arm?

Same... give or take a few muscles... How's your... everything?

she grinned, feeling light-headed from the mixture of post-battle adrenaline and blood-loss. He was torn between running for help, and waiting for it. Or, of course, watching her die. But that thought was hardly in his mind for long before he found himself speaking again.

So, Slayer, why aren't I getting dusted?

It'd be like killing a part of myself. she didn't even hesitate in her answer. Which she thought was very brave of herself, but he simply frowned to show that he didn't understand. Buffy sighed.

Its like... She paused, eyes averted as she sought for the proper words to describe it, Its like... Your memories. Your memories of William. He isn't you, but you feel like you know him better than anyone. His thoughts and his feelings. Its like... a gift, and a curse. Because you can understand someone so completely that everyone else pales in comparison. Well... not everyone else... but just your relationships with everyone else. And you've lost that person, Spike. You lost that person when you killed him... I can't imagine what would be like. I couldn't do it by choice. Which is why I'm not going to kill you.. she paused, swallowed, then added as a soft promise,

You know me then, Slayer? Everything about me? I find that so, so hard to believe.

Because if you saw everything that I'd done... Killing. Raping. Turning. Then you wouldn't forgive so easily.

Buffy frowned, what did he want, she had admitted that she understood him. Did he want more? I don't forgive you. And I was there, Spike. I saw it all, in Technicolor.

Then why let me go? As a Slayer, you should be even more keen to kill me...Unless... The Vampire began to speak slowly as if each words that came from his mouth was a new one, his brow was creased into a frown as he worked out the implications of his latest realisation, Unless you... enjoyed it, Slayer. Did you? Gave you a thrill... Letting go. Is that it Slayer? You let me go after seeing all of that, because if you forgive me, then you can forgive yourself...

she said with certainty, I don't forgive you, Spike. What you did was sick. Disgusting. Wrong. You're wrong, Spike. I told you why I was sparing you, why can't you just accept that.

Accept that for once you could be telling the truth? I'm not one of your usual gullible Vampires Slayer.

Why are you so desperate for there to be a different reason? I kill you; I kill a part of myself. And I can't do that. Why can't you accept that? Accept it and leave.

Forever? Leave, forever, Buffy? Or until you want me again...

I have never wanted you Spike.

Spike rose to his feet quickly and began pacing in front of her as if some kind of internal struggle was going on within him. She watched him, her hands moving nervously to and from her wounded leg as if afraid it would fall off. His uncertainty seemed never-ending, and so she spoke into the silence.

What do you want from me Spike? What do I have to say to make you leave? to make him pay attention she stood, pulling herself up with hands firmly grasping the trunk of the tree, and leaning back against it so as not to fall down. He stopped pacing and turned to her, his face once again was awash with emotions that she couldn't pick out.

Tell me... he started slowly, his eyes not connecting with hers, ...that you don't... need me. Tell me you don't need me, Buffy.

She parted her lips obediently to tell him exactly what he didn't want to hear. But her mouth was covered in an instant by his palm against her lips. The gesture was gentle, and she kept her mouth closed even as he removed his hand.

Spike felt broken, wild, angry and everything inbetween. She wanted him to leave, even now. She offered not to kill him as if that was some compensation for helping her. Since he had come to Sunnydale he'd lost a lover, met an old rival, and fallen in love again. Perhaps he should just leave, that would be the good thing to do. The right thing. To leave, Sire his own gang, create mayhem far away from this place. Perhaps even find Dru again, plead for her to take him back... But he wasn't good. And instead of leaving he found, to his horror, more words falling from his lips.

Tell me you don't-- his voice was desperate, --That you don't... want me. Love me.

Spike, I...

He slammed her up against the tree, causing her to gasp, then quickly removed his hands from her. Leaving the injured one by his side and the other pressed into the moist tree-bark behind her head. He tried to catch her eyes with his as if sure that would make her say something more to his liking. She didn't look afraid. More embarrassed. But now that it was out, he had to try again.

Tell me. Tell me and I'll go. I'll leave Sunnydale and you can to back to your friends, your Angel. Tell me, Buffy, and then I'll know what you said earlier was a lie. You say that you won't be able to live with killing me. What about letting me go? Tell me you don't want me Slayer. Tell me.

Their eyes connected on his last words and he saw that she was crying. Well, a few tears clouding her eyes and threatening to fall down flushed cheeks. Even with all he knew about her he didn't know whether the tears were a good sign or not. Pale-swollen lips opened hesitantly, but the words that issued from them were certain.

I don't love you, Spike. A breath, And I don't want you. More firmly, I don't.

Buffy stared up at Spike and watched the pain then fury pass across his face. For a moment she thought he was going to lunge at her as he'd promised long ago. Bury his teeth into her throat and try to drink her dry. Then she'd have to kill him. Stake through heart. Dust. Simple as that. But she knew he wouldn't do it. So instead she watched him compose himself, the emotional storm on his face receding into blankness. As if he accepted her words completely he straightened his posture until she was no longer crowded with the smell of cigarettes, blood, leather and alcohol that was Spike. He nodded curtly, stepped away from her, then turned.

Buffy felt her arms moving even before she had ordered them to. Her fingers closed on the leather of his coat, bruising it probably, and pulled him back to her. He turned, surprise being an understatement for the look on his face. But that was quickly forgotten about as her lips connected with his. He tasted the saltwater on her skin, and felt it as his hand came up to touch her cheek before roaming into her hair. He drank her tears into his mouth as if he was trying to drain away the sorrow that had caused them. She thrust her tongue in with them, exploring his mouth as her fingers wove together at the back of his neck. His hands wandered down her back as he pulled her closer to him forcefully. She gasped in pain as the wounds on her back were touched by his demanding hands. They broke from the kiss and stared at each other. Rebuttal should have been on her lips, apologies on his, and because of the earlier words, vice-verse.

Instead their mouths connected again and their tongues sought out each other once more to continue a much more pleasing battle. If the last kiss had been desperate, this one was passionate. Even as their resolves crumbled their bodies moved together, hearts disconnecting with brains, passion breaking from thought. They trusted their senses above all else. If only for a brief moment. And forgot about right-wrong, good-evil and love-hate. Forgot about recently spoken words and unsatisfactory answers, still made no less true by being left hanging. They simply clung to each other. And just were.

The End

(Author's Ending Note: So, 190 pages in Word, 31 chapters, more reviews than it deserves, and Senses of Insecurity. Is that the end? No. But some people don't like reading sequels though, do they? For those people I'll just say that it ends well (house, picket fence, children... whatever your Spuffy fantasy is.) for those who do want to read the sequel it'll be called Passing Time, it'll be rated R (at least on ff.net, in other places it'll be NC-17) and the synopsis is: Last year Angelus was sent to Hell, Dru fled town and Spike stayed to help Buffy. This year Buffy and Spike's relationship progresses worryingly, confusing both parties, but when they have to take a trip together to save the world things change permanently.' The first chapter should be up somewhere around Christmas. I'd like to put a big thank you' out there to everyone who has reviewed and stuck with the fic. Words cannot express. So I shan't try. )