Chapter Nine

"Ow! No fair. You can't try and bite me anyplace but my neck. Haven't you read the vampire manual?" Buffy pushed the wiry vamp away from her, as his fangs grazed the tender flesh of her arm.

He hit a nearby tombstone, but quickly recovered.

"Really, you need to learn a thing or two. Ever thought about taking some night classes? Get it, night classes?"

The vamp just stared at her blankly.

"You are a vampire, right? Jeez, don't you guys come with a sense of humor anymore?"

The vamp ignored her comments, and just growled, springing for Buffy in one, fluid move. He knocked her to the ground and went for her neck. Buffy pushed her hands against his face, trying to hold him back. "See, that's what I was talking about," she said, her attempts at talking becoming labored by the pressure of trying to hold him off. "It's always the neck."

Buffy gave a hard push, a push that should have dislodged him, but it didn't. The vamp held her tight, breaking out of her grasp and lowering his head to her neck. A flash of panic shot through Buffy's eyes as she tried to summon the strength to free herself, before it was too late. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and . . . started choking.

"Oh, sorry pet. Didn't realize he was gonna . . ."

Buffy opened her eyes and looked up at the man standing in front of her. For a second she couldn't believe it. Spike was looking down at her, offering his hand in assistance. She just stared at his hand, unable to move.

"Right. Sorry, I forgot." He pulled his hand away and nervously ran it through his hair.

Buffy looked up at him again. He was staring at her, but he wouldn't look her in the eye.

Wiping the vamp dust from her clothes, Buffy got up from the ground and stood in front of him. Was this another dream? She didn't know. She felt like crying.

"What are you doing here?" It was all she could think to say.

"Uh . . . I came . . . I came to . . ." He seemed at a loss. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stared at the ground.

"Spike!"

He looked up at her, briefly meeting her gaze, then looking away again. "I . . . I came . . . for you."

"For me?! In what universe do you have any right to do anything for me? You sick, evil, miserable vampire." There was venom in her words. It felt good. Buffy wanted to tear into him, to let him know how angry she was, how much she hated him. Hate was good. Hate would get her past the fear.

"You're right."

"I know I'm right. So again, Spike, what the hell are you doing here?"

He swallowed hard and she could sense that something was terribly wrong. This wasn't her Spike. He was missing that self-assured cockiness that defined him. He couldn't feel guilt. You needed a soul for that. So what was wrong with him?

"What happened to you?"

He laughed to himself. "What happened to me?" He threw his arms open in a questioning gesture and began pacing nervously over a couple of nearby graves. "What didn't happen to me? Demons, shamans, bleedin' caves, unspeakable nightmares--"

"Nightmares?" That got Buffy's attention.

"Yes, nightmares luv." He finally stopped to look at her. "What? You think vampire's can't dream?"

Buffy was confused. She looked away from him trying to sort through the uncertainty. "But you . . . you're not . . . you're a vampire! How can you have nightmares? You are one!"

She saw him visibly flinch at that. Finally he spoke. "Yeah, well, even demons have demons luv. Nothin' new about that."

"Don't call me that."

"What?" He looked up at her, surprised. "Oh right, right. Sorry."

"You should be."

For a long time they just stood there, the air around them thick with a heavy silence. Buffy didn't know what to say, what to do. She had imagined this moment so many times. Imagined exactly what she would say to him. How she would yell and scream, and tell him how much he had hurt her. She'd beat him to the ground. He'd fight back. They'd spar. And finally - finally - he would say something cruel and hurtful and she'd just stake him, justified in her attack.

But they weren't fighting. They were just standing there, not even speaking. What was she going to do?

"You shouldn't have left," she said, her voice somehow calm. "That was the coward's way out."

"It was the only way out. For me, at least."

She looked up at him. "Why? If you were going to leave, why come back here? What do you want?"

"I told you. I came back for you."

A strangled sob tore at her throat. "You can't expect to come back here and . . . be with me."

"I don't."

"Then what do you want?"

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the stake he had used to kill the other vamp. He took a tentative step toward her, holding the stake out to her, the pointy end facing him. "This."

"What?" She was confused. "You came back for a stake?"

"No." He seemed frustrated. "I came back for you . . . to do this." Again he offered her the stake.

"Do what?" Then it dawned on her. "Oh."

"So?" He looked at her earnestly, clearly wishing she would take it.

"So . . . " Buffy just stared at the stake in his hands. What was she supposed to do? Take it and give him what he wanted? Kill him? "You want me to kill you?"

"It's about time."

Buffy looked up at him.

Again he averted her gaze. "Will you just take it, please?"

"No," she said it without even thinking. "No, I won't."

"Why?" He looked back at her, forgetting himself in his surprise.

"Because, . . . I can't." She took a step away from him, walking past him, giving him her back. "You want to die? You'll have to do it yourself." She moved away, intent on leaving the cemetery. "I can't kill you Spike. It wouldn't be right."

"Buffy," he called after her.

She didn't respond.

"Wait." He ran after her, falling into step a few paces behind her. "Why?"

"Because it isn't right. Maybe you do deserve to die. But I can't be the one to do it. Just go Spike. Find your solace elsewhere. It's not here. You'll never find it here."

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness."

She turned around, Spike nearly colliding with her when she stopped. "Don't you think I know that? Look, I don't know what you want from me. I don't even know what's wrong with you. But I can't help you. Whatever you're looking for, you won't find it here. I can't help you!" She turned and started to walk again.

"And that's your right."

"Oh, damn it Spike!" She stopped again. "That's my right? Like I wouldn't kill you if I could? Like I'm holding back? As much as you love the whole sadomasochistic torture routine, I'm not like that. I'm not trying to punish you. To withhold what I think you need. I simply can't do it. Now leave me alone!" She stalked off again.

He followed. "Why?"

"None of your damn business why."

"Buffy."

"Don't." She put up her hand to silence him. "Just don't."

Buffy continued to walk, trying her best to ignore him. Spike followed her, all the way home.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "Leave me alone Spike!"

"Buffy. . ."

"I mean it! Leave Sunnydale. Stay in Sunnydale. I don't care. I just want you out of my way. That's all. And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from the Scoobies too. I think Dawn seriously wants to kill you."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, I'm the one who has a right to do you in. Not Dawn. Not Xander. Me. Buffy. And I don't want to see it happen. Not yet, anyway. Not like this." They came around to the back of the house. The kitchen door was clearly in view. "I want you gone Spike. Now! Leave me alone. You're not welcome here."

Buffy bounded up the porch steps and into the house. He didn't follow. Good. She didn't want him around anyway. If Dawn even laid eyes on him, he'd be a big pile of dust in less than a second. No, it was better this way. Spike could walk away, and Buffy could say she had done the right thing. But why was it the right thing? Why hadn't she taken the chance when she had it?

Buffy snuck upstairs, trying not to wake Dawn. Soundlessly, she entered her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she leaned back against the wall and tried to calm the turmoil in her head. Spike was back. It was no dream this time. He was real. She hadn't touched him, and yet she knew. Her dreams had been so vivid, but they were nothing compared to reality.

The sight of him standing over her when he killed that vamp, had taken her breath away. She had wanted to scream, to rant and rave. But she couldn't. She could only stare up at him, taking in every last inch of him, convincing herself that he was real.

What was wrong with her? Tonight should have been the night, the night she made Spike pay for what he had done to her. And yet, she couldn't. When it came down to it, she couldn't. How many times in the last five years had they fought? How many times had she beaten him senseless, intent on doing him real harm? And tonight, when she had more reason than ever before, she couldn't even touch him. Couldn't even stake him with a moldy piece of wood. Why was she doing this to herself? What did she hope to gain by sparing Spike?

Buffy wrapped her arms around herself. Her body beginning to tremble, her knees weak, she sunk to the floor. She'd kill him if she had to. She would. It was her duty, her job as the Slayer. She would kill Spike. It was what she was meant to do.