Undone

by Trisha

Spike and Buffy revisit their pasts together, literally, in an effort to save Dawn's life. A spoiler-free post-Grave story.

2. Chapter Two

Undone

Chapter Two

Spoilers: Through Grave, but no season 7 spoilers.

Disclaimer: If these characters were mine, I would treat them better and make money off them. But since they belong to Joss et al, I get to abuse them for free.

Author's Note: Thanks go to Shannon, as always, for telling me I don't suck.

Distribution: If you want it, email me at Dragolyn@hotmail.com , otherwise, it's here, at the BSC (http://cgi.carnal-sins.net/bscentral) and on my site, Drowning or Waving (or it will be as soon as my husband gets around to it).

Feedback is always appreciated! Be nice, feed the author.

*****

            Buffy pulled her truck into the driveway of the motel and parked in the space to across from Ethan's room. Through the unfettered window she could see he was preparing to leave. She watched as he shrugged into his jacket, then disappeared into what seemed to be a bathroom. Sighing, she slumped back in her seat and looked at Spike. And sighed again.

            He was turned away from her, his face pressed into the cool glass of the window. Every line of his body spoke of tension, of an inner pain she couldn't even begin to guess at how to help. From the seat behind them, a green glow filled the back end of the Explorer. Dawn hadn't regained consciousness, and the light seemed to be getting brighter. Buffy didn't think that could be a good sign. Oh what fun we have… how the hell am I going to do this? I need help. 

            "Spike," she said, and bit her lips together as he jolted, startled. Fear came off him in waves; he looked translucent with it. She thought that if she touched him, her fingers would sink right through his skin. So she restrained herself, squeezed her hands around the steering wheel when she would have drawn him close, and tried to make due with words. "Hey, you're okay. You know that, right? You know where you are and everything?"

            "Where I am?" He rolled his head over the back of the seat, not quite meeting her eyes. "Well, yes. I'm… I'm here."

            "Here. Yeah." She checked Ethan's window again. He was still in the bathroom, which was a good thing considering her lack-of-progress at getting Spike and Dawn situated. Bringing her forehead down to rest on the steering wheel, she closed her eyes, overwhelmed. "We're at a motel, Spike. Ethan's motel."

            "Ethan."

She could hear his voice clearing, and knew he must be regaining his focus. "I guess orientating you helps bring you back to earth, huh?"

"I've always been on earth."

Opening her eyes, she raised her head. He wasn't kidding. "It's a figure of speech. Remember? You're not… you're so different. Not just in that you're kind of nuts, but.. you seem… you're missing something. Something that's… you."

He gave her a smile so sad, her fingers trembled with the desire to touch the corners of his mouth. "I'm changed. Yeah."

"You and Dawn both. Her Key's coming out… she's losing her humanity… her life, maybe." Raising her hand, she inspected the play of the green light on her skin. It was beautiful, in the way terrible things sometimes are. In the way Spike was, the old Spike. This Spike… she wasn't sure what to make of him. He made everything different, coming back this way. "And you… what have you lost?"

"Lost?" At this, his smile grew. He tipped his head back. Buffy watched his adam's apple move up and down the line of his throat as he chuckled. "Funny you should ask…"

"Wait. We can't do this now." She started the engine, her gaze narrowed across the parking lot at Ethan, who was climbing into a lean, black sedan. "He's leaving. I knew he would."

"You knew… how did you know he'd be here?"

"Ethan's a puzzle… always predictable, never reliable. He stays here every time he comes to town."

"Predictable. That's a nice trait in an enemy."

"And one I'm counting on tonight." Putting the car into drive, she pulled smoothly onto the street, several lengths behind Ethan. "If I know Ethan Rayne, he'll think of what he saw- Dawn all glowey- as an opportunity to get some extra favors out of the Knights. They don't know about her… about what's happening. He'll try and play that angle, and I'm guessing he won't want to wait. Especially since… well, since Dawn can't." Swallowing hard over the lump that formed in her throat with each mention of Dawn, Buffy flipped on her turn signal, taking two consecutive lefts. "And see, I'm right. He's headed towards Breaker's Woods. That's where the Knights camped out when they were in town before."

"What's your plan?"

She slowed as Ethan pulled his car over to the shoulder of the road. He parked the car and got out. When he disappeared into the forest, Buffy maneuvered her car so that it blocked Ethan between it and the ditch that ran alongside the trees. "Kind of like last time, actually. Remember the general?"

Raising an eyebrow, Spike said, "I remember that he's dead. Very dead. Won't be much use to you."

"These guys'll have another general. Someone in charge, who can tell me what I need to know." She unlatched her seatbelt and opened the door. "I'm gonna go find him."

"Buffy." He looked down at his lap, where his hands were wrapped inside a dishtowel, collecting himself. "Umm… Well. I was going to say… something. Something along the lines of… oh. You're going to go by yourself? Just walk into their camp and steal their bloody general?"

"Not quite." She started to get out of the car, then paused. "Spike… are you okay? I mean, okay enough to watch Dawn?"

He nodded, but looked more uncertain than she'd ever seen him.

Standing, she looked into the woods. Ethan couldn't move as quickly as she could, especially in the darkness, but if he got too far ahead… "Look, I don't think it will take very much. She's not… she's not going anywhere."

Spike straightened in his seat and nodded again, semi-convincingly. "We'll do fine. Like you say, she's staying put for now. And I'm… umm, well… I think things are starting to get a bit clearer. Clearer in my head." He smiled crookedly. "Better hurry, pet. The sun'll be up soon. Won't be any good at watching the Nibblet if I'm a pile of dust."

She hesitated a moment longer. "Cover her with a blanket if she seems cold. Or… something. I don't know. I… I don't know what to do for her except…"

"Then go do it," he said. "Go on. Don't worry 'bout us."

At that, she almost laughed. "Riiight. I won't worry about you. Who cares that you're halfway around the bend to Looneyville. And Dawn, well, geez, she looks better now that she's all green and shiny. No worries here. None at all." 

Waving off his response- a look of utter exasperation- she shut the door and ran into the woods. She sensed Ethan before she saw him. Heading up the path towards him, she called his name in a muted shout. "Ethan. Wait."

He jumped at the sound of her voice and stared at her, surprised. "Ehm… no. No, I don't think so," he said, turning on his heel and starting to run.

Rolling her eyes, she took off after him. "Stupid bad guy. If I was going to hurt you… oof!" They collided and went down. Buffy landed hard on top of Ethan, who fell on his stomach. Her elbows were trapped under her chest, forcing the breath from her lungs. She inhaled sharply and, taking quick stock of the situation, she grabbed Ethan's arms from his sides and held them together. Bringing up one leg, she pressed her knee into the middle of his back. "Now, that was rude. No more running away. I'm not here to hurt you."

"You- are- hurting- me," Ethan gasped, the side of his face grinding into the forest floor as he angled his head to meet her eyes. Spitting dirt out of his mouth, he glowered at her. "For a… little thing… you weigh a bloody ton! Get… off…me!"

"Not a chance. You'll run."

"Oh, that's not… too likely." He spat again. "That plan didn't go well the first time, as you'll notice."

She scanned the woods, hoping the Knights were too far away to hear their voices. "You'll scream."

"For who?"

"Your friends, the Knights."

"Friends, you say. Ha. They're as likely to hurt me as you are. Being here without the Key sort of throws me onto the bad guy side. Or good guy, depending on your perspective."

"If they think you're on my side, why are you going to them?"

"To spy on them." Off her skeptical look, he continued. "Well, can you

think of anything better?"

            "I can beat you up either way. You might as well tell me the truth." The sky above her was beginning to lighten. "And hurry, please. Or we can move right along to the beating part."

            "A man's got the right to make a living, you know. And to live, come to think of it. If I tell- okay, fine, sell, the Knights a tidbit of information on their Key, maybe they'll let me leave town with all my limbs in tact." Wiggling beneath her, he groaned as she increased the pressure of her body on his. "You have seen their swords, right? Wickedly sharp. I'm not the fighting sort."

            Digging her knee into his spine, Buffy said, "You want to leave town in one piece?"

            He stopped struggling and slumped against the ground. "Is that still an option, oh violent one?"

            "It is if you help me." Letting up just a little, she rocked back on her heels, holding him down with her hands on his shoulders. "What'll it be, Ethan? Help me, or help the Knights."

            "That depends. What do you want me to do?"

            "Nothing moral, legal, or safe. Just your type of thing."

            His back rose and fell in a sigh. "And if I don't?"

            "I need you to help me save Dawn. If you don't, and if she dies, I will kill you."

            "Try a different threat. You can't kill a human. We've been through this before."

            She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll do what I have to for Dawn. Anything. Including killing you. But I don't want to. Killing humans… not so much fun. Cleaner, maybe… do you know how many demons have the kind of blood that leaves a permanent stain? But still… not something I'd enjoy." Lowering her tone, she said, "Just help me, Ethan. It'll be more pleasant that way. Just say yes, and let's go. You won't have to do much, and it'll be… better than dead. Better than prison."

            "Swear that it won't get me killed. Swear it. And swear that you'll let me leave the country when we're done." Closing his eyes, he shuddered. "No more prison."

            "I'll make sure you're safe enough. And when we're done, I'll let you leave. But you have to do what I say, when I say it. No going behind my back to make deals with the bad guys." She stood up, brushing off her hands, but Ethan didn't move. "You can stand up now."

            "Easy for you to say." He rested another second, then slowly crawled to his knees. Stretching his back, he rubbed one hand over his ribs. "Nice knee. Felt ever so pretty digging into my bones."

            "If your bones weren't so… boney, it wouldn't have been a problem." Biting her lip, she shrugged. "Okay, not my most witty insult ever, but hey, it's been a rough night. Get up. We're going to go kidnap the General."

            "Say that again," he said, standing. Brushing the dirt off of his front, he gave her a skeptical leer. "You must've done more damage to me than I thought. Sounded like you said we're going to kidnap the General. He who commands the legion of sharp, pointy swords, emphasis on the sharp."

            "That's what I said. They're camped in the big clearing, right?" At his nod, she headed back up the path, leaving him to follow her.

            He watched her walk away for a moment. She could feel his eyes on her back, so she straightened it determinedly and quickened her pace.

"Buffy," he called, hurrying after her.    

            When he reached her side, she gave him a cursory glance, but otherwise kept her eyes trained on the darkness. "You'll need to distract the men. I'll get the General."

            "And how do will you do that? Just go knock on his door and tell him it's time to leave?"

            "No. Look, it's still dark. Most of the camp should be asleep. You'll distract the guards, and… well, the General, he's the big important guy. Big important guys don't sleep with the lay people. I'm guessing he'll have his own tent or something, you know, the kind that says 'my balls are bigger than your balls, and therefore I am paid more money and get the corner office and all the best Krispie Kremes'."

            Ethan rolled his eyes. "You, my dear girl, should look into seeing a psychiatrist. Or a linguist, I can't decide which."

            "I talk funny. Yeah, duh. You'll catch on soon enough, everyone else has." Through the bushes, she could see several bright lights. "Look. Campfires. You go in first. Talk to the guards, say… something. I don't know. You're the professional liar, make something up. And make it good."

            "And then?"

            The edge of the clearing was ringed with tall trees. Buffy paused and peered out from behind the thick trunk of a pine. "Give me ten minutes, then figure out how to get away. I'll meet you on the road."

            "Yes, mum," he muttered, a frown line growing between his eyebrows as he searched the rows of sleeping men for signs of wakefulness.

            She started away, then turned back and said, "Ethan."

            "What?"

            "I have a vampire in the car. If it gets light, he dies. I'd rather leave you behind to be sliced and diced by the Knights than see him go poof into a big pile of dust on my passenger seat. Capiche?"

            "Have you ever thought of becoming a motivational speaker? With inspiration like that, I might just kill myself."

            "Need any help?" Buffy pointed to the camp. "Lots of volunteers here."

"No need. I'll hurry along," he muttered, stepping into the encampment.

*****

            Buffy was just closing the back door to the Explorer when Ethan came running out of the forest. She checked on the man who was lying bound and gagged in the cargo area, then faced Ethan and watched as he braced himself against the truck, his chest contracting in wheezy pants.

            "We have to go," she told him, opening the door to the driver's seat.

            Ethan held up a hand, trying to slow his breathing. His face was mottled with redness.

            "Asthma, huh?" Buffy asked, telling him with her offhanded tone that she couldn't care less. "Oh, well, you'll live. Spike, sit in back with Dawn, okay? I don't trust him next to her."

            "You think we can trust him at all?" Spike got out of the car and looked at Buffy across the hood. His face was gaunt and reminded Buffy that he'd need blood before long, and lots of it.

            "Not really." Her voice softened as she looked him over in the dim pre-dawn light. Gaunt hardly begins to describe… jeez, he's practically skeletal. The urge to go to him, to wrap herself up in him and care for him made her suck in her breath. She swallowed it with effort, and made herself focus. "Not really at all. There's not much I'm sure of right now, but you can always trust that Ethan wants to live. He's like a cockroach that way. Or a rat."

            "How flattering," Ethan rasped, taking two quick huffs from a small inhaler and pressing his hands against his chest. "We need to leave, if you're going to keep your promise to protect my life. The Knights are coming after us. They know we took the General"

            "That's what they said, huh? Hmm. Joke's on them. But yeah, let's go. We've got… other reasons to hurry." Spike's hands are bleeding all over the car, Dawn's getting brighter by the minute, and the sun will be up very soon. Good reasons.  She hopped into the driver's seat and turned on the engine. Barely waiting for Spike and Ethan to close their doors, she peeled off the shoulder of the road and had to remind herself that getting stopped by a cop would be a bad, bad thing at the moment. Oh, Mr. Policeman, what do you mean kidnapping's illegal? Well, you see, it was for a good cause. Anyways, can't talk, we're in a rush. My friend here will turn into dust at sunrise. Like magic!

            Ethan pulled his seatbelt into place, gripping the dashboard as Buffy took a sharp turn to the right. "What do you mean, joke's on them? I saw you, at the camp. You cut the back of the General's tent open and went inside." Looking over his shoulder, Ethan blinked at the light emanating from Dawn. "Just who is your new friend back there?"

            Spike met Buffy's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Not the General, I'd wager. Not unless the Knights have taken to wearing brown monk's robes and shaving their heads."

            "Nope, that's not the General." Pulling into the motel parking lot, Buffy drove around to the back of the building and parked between the motel and a dumpster. Not much camouflage, but then, she doubted any of the Knights had seen her car. "The General's in the woods, probably nursing a bad headache right now and cursing women who sneak in and steal his monks in the middle of the night."

            "You stole his monk?" Ethan shook his head. "Tsk tsk."

            "He wasn't too happy about it, so I had to put him to sleep for a while. The monk was in the tent when I got there. Lucky, too, considering it saved me from having to torture the General. Nice to finally have some luck tonight. If it holds, maybe this guy will have the answers I need." Turning off the engine, Buffy got out of the car and unlocked the hatch. "Spike, you carry Dawn in, okay?"

            He came around the side of the car with Dawn curled in his arms. Squinting, he nodded. "Hurry. Sun. And…"

            "You just hang in here another minute. Once we're inside, I'll get you something to eat, and you can rest." Opening the back door, she took a second to make sure the old monk was okay. He was hogtied, feet to hands, as well as being gagged and blinded by a handkerchief, but he seemed well enough. She pulled him out and slung him over her shoulders. "Ethan, we're going to your room."

            He cocked his head and regarded her with disbelief. "How did you know I didn't tell the Knights where I'm staying?"

            "That would be stupid, which you're not, usually."

            "You know me so well. I'm not sure I like that."

"I don't care what you like." Walking behind Spike to the door, she stood back and let Ethan unlock it, then followed them inside. "Two beds. Good. Spike, put Dawn down and make her comfortable, okay? She likes two pillows, and…" Buffy let her words die as she saw that Spike was a step ahead of her. He lowered her sister onto the bed and, lifting her head gently, put one pillow underneath and then tucked another along the girl's side. "Yeah, like that. Thanks."

            Spike didn't respond. He went into the bathroom and shut the door with a thin click that seemed louder to Buffy than it should have. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and tried not to think of all the questions she had to ask him. Where were you? What happened to you? And what's wrong with your hands? Who hurt you, and why, and in how many ways can I kill them for you? She wanted to go into the bathroom after Spike, to kick open the door and demand he give her answers. He owed her that much, and she… well, she owed him that much too. But she couldn't. There were too many things that needed doing, too many things that only the Slayer could do, that only Dawn's sister could do.

            "Buffy." Ethan tugged lightly on the monk's robe.

            Opening her eyes, she just looked at him, not moving, not speaking.

            "Are you just going to carry this fellow around? He's too old to stay tied up for long. Unless you're trying to kill him. Your sister's dying and your vampire's a bit off his nut, if you haven't noticed. Don't you have work to do?"

If she hadn't known better, she would have called his tone considerate. Since she did know better- since she knew him- she figured he was only tired, or bored, or… something. But all the same, she felt her shoulders begin to relax. The guise of kindness, of real help, was better than nothing at all.

            She set the monk down on the bed and began to untie the ropes that bound his feet to his hands. "Keep an eye out. Don't let him try anything. I don't think he knows we're the good guys."

            "We?" Ethan knelt on the end of the bed, his eyes empty in a way that made Buffy tense again. "Interesting."

            "You're… good by association. Or, under threat. Or something. Just… just shut up, okay?" She pulled the rough cloth gag from the monk's mouth and tossed it aside.

            The monk licked his lips and blew out, stretching his cheeks. "Thank you," he said, his words accented. "I could hear you perfectly. There's nothing wrong with my ears. I know that you are the… the good guys."

            "Bully for you," Buffy said shortly, standing over him. "Do you have a name?"

Sitting up, he leaned against the headboard. "Pavel. Brother Pavel Mykytiuk."

"And do you know who I am?"

            "You are the Slayer," he said. "I know you."

            "We've met?" She shook her head. "No. I would have remembered you. Not too many monks running around Sunnydale."

            "More than you realize. We stay indoors, keep to ourselves, but we've lived here for..." He looked across the room at Dawn. Buffy watched his eyes hover on her sister's back. The mix of curiosity and awe that lightened his face made her clench her jaw.

            She stepped to one side, blocking his view of Dawn. "Hey, Brother. She's not a circus freak. Less staring, more talking. You and your boys gave her to me, then stuck around… why? To keep an eye on things?"

            "Yes." He ran a hand over his bald head and, pressing his lips together in a thin line, shrugged his shoulders. "We had to be sure. You defeated the Beast, but there are always others. They came for it, fought us, fought the Knights… only, we do not fight so well. We are peaceful men. That is why we gave her to you. To protect." He granted her a fatherly smile. "And you've protected the Key as no one else could."

            Sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, Buffy tried to remind herself that this man wasn't her enemy, and that she should be treating him more kindly. But until he gave her what she needed, she couldn't afford to soften towards him. "Yes, I have taken good care of my sister."

            "Your sister." Emotion flickered over the old man's face, too quickly for Buffy to identify it. "Yes. Well. If that's all, I'll just phone for a ride home."

            Buffy put her hand on his arm. "Not so fast. You are going to take me to…"

            "His leader?" Ethan supplied, straight-faced.

            She ignored him and addressed Brother Pavel. "Whoever's in charge… your… monk boss, whatever. You're going to take me to him."

            "You want answers. The Key is breaking its barriers. You think we can help you, help her."

             Anger tightened Buffy's words. "The Key is killing my sister. I want to know how to help her. Can you get it out of her?"

            "I…" Brother Pavel sighed heavily. "I do not know. The Key is a turbulent entity. It is impossible to foretell what it will do."

            She grabbed his arm as a new realization sent an icy shiver down her spine. "But you knew this was going to happen. You and the other monks, you all knew the Key would come out eventually. That's why you stuck around town."

            Covering her hand with his, his face folded with sympathy. "It was… inevitable. We knew, eventually, this would happen. But not when. It could have lasted days inside her body, or decades. The Key is too strong for a mortal to withhold forever, even a mortal of the girl's bloodline."

            Buffy yanked her hand away. "Her name is Dawn. And you are going to help me save her life."

            Brother Pavel didn't answer, but his darkening face spoke for him. At the end of the bed Ethan shifted, waiting for Buffy's reaction.

            "She's going to live. Period. No other possibility." Buffy stood, so rigid she felt like she might crack in two. Even her face felt stiff, as though she wore a mask stretched invisibly tight over her skin. She could not look at Dawn- could not, not until she could see her sister instead of the Key. So she walked to the bathroom door and spoke to Brother Pavel from there. "Will you take me to the monastery by choice, or do I need to be more… convincing?"

            "I'll take you," Pavel said, "But…"

            She cut him off, unable to hear what he might say. "I'll be a few minutes. If either of you touch her…"

            Brother Pavel rose to his feet and moved to stand over Dawn's bed. "No one can hurt the Key. It protects itself."

            The Key. Not Dawn. "I'll be a minute," she whispered, opening the bathroom door and disappearing inside.

*****

            The bathroom lamp was off, but two line of light streamed in above and below the door, allowing her to find the switch and flip it on. Blinking, she surveyed the room, noting sink, toilet, wastebasket, and shower curtain. She pulled back the curtain, and found Spike lying in the dry bathtub, his hands tucked carefully in his lap.

            He looked at her with blank eyes and she paused, waiting for recognition to come over him. When it did, she was struck by the difference- it was as if he was literally leaving and returning to his body. "Welcome back," she whispered, sitting on the closed toilet seat.

            "Buffy." He raised one lean leg and stretched it out, wincing as he moved his hands out of the way.

            She gestured to the outer room. "Did you hear all that?"

            "Followed most of it." He took a breath and watched the rise and fall of his chest as if it was significant.

            She watched too, and remembered the way it felt to press her hands against the bare skin of his ribcage, to feel the heart that did not beat there. To remind myself that he is nothing, and that what we did was okay because there was nothing under my hands- nothing. "Spike…" Shaking her head, she felt tears prickle behind her eyes. "We need to talk, but… I can't, not now. Dawn…"

            "I heard. S'alright. There's nothing to say between us, not really, anyways." He rested one foot on the tub's faucet and continued to breathe with careful precision. "You never wanted to talk, before. Just wanted to be in and out, that's all. And you know what? You were right. All those times. So, go on now, Slayer. Take care of the Nibblet and leave me here."

            Something inside of her began to twist; she felt each knot as it formed, and when she pressed her hand against her heart, she was half-surprised to find it beating, and half-surprised to find that she wished it wasn't. To be nothing, wouldn't that make it all go away?

            "Don't," Spike growled, his glare catching her breath. "I know you. Your thoughts… I can almost hear them, inside mine. Always could. That's what made us different, you and I. Had nothing to do with…" He hit one of his fists over his heart, and his eyes widened. One beat passed silently, then two, and then he cried out from the pain.

            "Your hand," Buffy said, dropped down to kneel in front of the tub. "Let me see it."

            "Buffy…" His mouth firmed into one hard line. "I don't want you to see."

            "Listen, Spike…" Reaching out slowly, she laid one hand over his, lightly. She didn't pull, didn't try to move him. She just wanted him to hear her. "You… were gone for a long time."

            "I know-" he started…

            "Shh," she interrupted, placing a fingertip to his lips. "I have to say this, and you have to listen, because last time we met, before tonight, we were in a different bathroom and you… no, I don't need to say it. Okay? I don't. You know what happened." She took away her finger and gave him the chance to challenge her, but he didn't. "That's over, though. Done. That… it was just you, Spike. Like with the demon eggs. I should have remembered. I knew who you were, that whole time, when we were together. A demon in a man's body, with occasional moments of grace that made me forget… forget your nature."

            He closed his eyes at that, and she had to make herself continue. "We can't be together like that again. I can't afford to let myself forget. It's not fair to either of us."

            Silence fell between them. Spike, lying motionless, did not open his eyes. Buffy couldn't make herself look at his face. Finally, she pressed her fingers into the top of his hands, lightly. "Let me fix your hands. Okay?"

            He didn't answer, but he opened his eyes and let her move his hands towards her. She unwrapped the towels from around them with slow movements, not wanting to cause him pain, but the cloth was stuck to his wounds.

            "Just pull," he told her dully, and when she did, he sucked in his lower lip but did not cry out.

            "Spike," she whispered, dropping his left hand to study his right more closely. She spread his fingers out and traced the wounds with her index finger.

            "Both hands are the same," he said, and to her ears, his voice sounded hollow. "The burns… well, see, I fought this bloke with hands like torches. Made the mistake of grabbing them- it was the only way to get the upperhand, so to speak."

            "And the… what is this?" Her fingers found something hard buried in the skin of his palm.

            He cleared his throat roughly. "A cross."

            "What do you mean? That's got to hurt like crazy." She dug her fingernail into the wound, trying to pry it out.

            Yanking his hand away from her, he said, "That's rather the point."

            Her jaw opened slackly and she gaped at him, a thought needling at the back of her brain, one so incredible, it could never, ever be true… except… Oh my god. "Spike… tell me the truth. Right now, tell me straight out- why did you bury a cross in your hand?"

            Something hot and shamed jumped into his eyes and then she knew, she knew what he was going to say, but she let him say it anyways. "These hands," he said, looking down at them. "Do you know how many lives these hands have ended? How many, do you think? Nearly two hundred years of killing, violent, terrible murdering, these hands have done. Little girls… little Dawn-like girls… and ladies, ladies like your mum, who never harmed a soul in their lives. Men, good men, like your Watcher, who cried like children and begged for their lives as I, as I…. with these hands." He leaned towards her blindly, his eyes bruised and bleeding misery. "These hands are evil, Buffy. So evil. So much pain, and blood, and… and oh god, what I did to you…" His voice breaking, he brought his hands together, clawing at them, tearing open the palms with his nails as he must have done a hundred times before in penance. "God, Buffy, what I did to you…"

            A soul… The knowledge flooded her, overwhelmed her, and she rocked back on her heels, stunned. He has a soul. The sound of his pain-soaked voice reached her ears through the buzz of shock. Wordless sounds came from his mouth, moans and meaningless syllables that meant more than any word ever could. Emotion pushed aside all thought, and Buffy moved as she would have moved all along, had she only known. She grabbed his wrists, ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders and, lowering herself onto his lap, took him into her arms as he wept. He pushed and tugged at her, trying to make her let him go, but she wouldn't. She held him so tightly against her, the beating of her heart reverberated between their bodies, competing with the racking motion of Spike's sobs as he gave up and let her hold him.

            "Shh, it's okay," she whispered, stroking his back, his hair, wishing she could touch more of him, wishing she could touch him inside and ease his pain. "Shh… it's…"

            "Don't say it's okay," he choked out against her shoulder. "Don't. It can never be okay. Not after all I've done."

            His words struck her like a fist and she could say nothing in response. She could only hold him, only give him the warmth of her body, for he was right. He deserved the pain. And nothing would be okay for him. Not ever again.