Good evening, One and All,
Sigh. It's a two chapter week, I fear, as I sort of spent my extra writing time on a little ficlet for a friend. Still, I am coming to you this evening with a less angsty chapter, so that must be good for something:)
I do hope you enjoy it. I also hope to have the next bit out over the weekend.
Thanks so much for all of your feedback and please keep it coming. It saves my betas from having to give me endless pep talks!
*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue
"As sick as it sounds, in my little head, there's a little Sunnydale, and a widdle Spike and a widdle Buffy and Spike wubs Buffy." James Marsters 14 July 2002
Title: Regrets (Chapter Twenty-Four of The One)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG -13
Pairing: Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.
Feedback: Yes, please
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com . Also, please visit the wonderful fan listing that Rachel put together. Sign up today and link to your website (or just sign up to say hi!). The fan listing can be found at .
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)
Summary: Willow, Tara, Dawn and Oz master their plan to find the Pawn. Xander shows up unexpectedly to help. Buffy awakes to realize what she has done and has to deal with the repercussions.
Regrets
"So, you really think this will work?" Dawn asked, leaning over the cauldron of stinky stuff shimmering away in the basement.
"Dunno, Dawnie. It's hard to say with magic," Willow answered, shrugging. "I mean, I wanted to do a spell where we could reveal the pawn, but with Draconius's mojo, that wouldn't really work."
"He's strong," Tara contributed, winking at Dawn.
Oz sat in the love seat, his feet on a stool, watching. "So, what does this one do then?" He smiled in amusement at the enchanting ladies before him. Willow was so. in command now. So strong. Sure of herself. It made her even more appealing than she had been when they were in high school. He sighed, knowing that this was only a short term thing. Like knowing something you care for would disappear, and trying to make the best of it while it lasted. But, he hoped, at least this way he'd be a permanent part of her, of their, lives. That was something he could be happy about, regardless of what was to come.
"Well," Willow sighed. "It *should* create a trace. Like a vapour trail," she joked, nodding at Oz.
"And I would know about that how?" He mocked, raising an eyebrow.
"Life on the road," Willow chided in return. "The temptations of stardom."
"Ah, yes," Oz answered, nodding. "My Led Zeppelin phase. I'd almost forgotten about my triple platinum."
"Back to the point," Dawn huffed, crossing her arms. Oz was becoming more like Spike around her friends. Particularly, Willow and Tara. She might need to start taking insulin if she had to watch any more flirty banter.
"Right," Willow said, shifting her gaze back to Dawn. "If we can't expose the pawn, then maybe we can follow it when it moves. See, the spell will make a sort of cosmic trail behind it wherever it goes. Kind of like following breadcrumbs. But sparkly."
"Ooh, did we get a pretty colour?" Tara asked, nudging Willow with her elbow.
Willow sighed, frowning. "Nope. Seems that the Goddess is a silver kinda gal."
"Sparkly though?" Dawn asked, her face hopeful.
"Sparkly, check." Willow answered, smiling. "Which will help. Since silver is kinda hard to pick up during the day."
"Ah, but canine senses," Oz joked, sniffing the air and opening his eyes wide.
"Yes, and a Vampire too," Tara contributed. "Silver is fine, baby." She leaned in to kiss her lover's cheek.
The word. The sweetness of it. The kiss. All of them sent little jolts through Oz, making him both more apprehensive and more excited about their upcoming . meeting. Still, he thought, they'd better make up their mind soon as he'd have to disappear for a few days for the full moon. He didn't think that Tara's new experiences with men needed to involve fur and fangs and blood.
Damn, what *should* they include? Points to ponder, Oz considered, leaning back into the chair.
"So, what do we have to do now?" Dawn asked, watching the bubbling liquid.
"Not much," Willow explained. "Figure out a guard schedule. What good's a sparkly trail if no one's there to see it?"
"We should to it in twos," Tara suggested, smiling softly. "Double the eyes."
"Double the pleasure," Dawn chirped, smiling at her own joke.
Yes, Oz thought, his hand rising to his chin and rubbing in contemplation. He shook his head. Must help Spike and Buffy. Must remove Penthouse forum thoughts from wolfy mind. Must focus.
As if on cue, Xander walked sleepily down the stairs, rubbing his face. "And hello to the Wicca department of Sunnydale's Number One demon fighting machine."
Willow quirked a brow. "I thought you went home?"
"I did," Xander answered, shaking the cobwebs from his head. "But River got fussy and Takina was up and I couldn't sleep so she suggested I come over here and help if I were already moving around."
Oz took one look at the sweatpants and ripped t-shirt on his old friend. "And didn't feel the need to dress first?"
"We live half a block away, Oz," Xander complained. "If I dressed every time I commuted between chez Harris and.. God, don't make me say it."
"They're married, now," Dawn said, prodding Xander.
"Don't remind me. Anyway, if I dressed every time I went from there to here, I'd be. dressed all the time," Xander muttered, rubbing his face again. "Okay, and that made sense how?"
Willow chuckled, surveying the room. "Well, until the rest get here in the morning, we should guard in shifts."
"Morning? Guard? Shifts?" Xander asked, his brain still squirming back to that of the awake Xander Harris.
"We cast a spell on the pawn. It's going to make glittery trails," Dawn squealed, pleased that they not only let her watch, but taught her how to help.
"Ooh, like a slug,"" Xander snarked. "Only glittery. And hopefully prettier."
"So, work in twos? " Tara continued.
"Sounds good," Oz answered.
"Why don't you and Xander go first," Tara began, nodding at Willow, her eyes betraying more than the others could see. It was time. Xander needed to know. "I'll take Dawnie," she continued.
"No," Willow said, her eyes being just as communicative. "I think that you should take Oz. Get to know each other a bit. Dawn can be our inside eyes and ears. Not to mention keep an ear out on the kids."
"Hey," Dawn whined.
"It's raining anyway, Dawnie," Xander said, relieving her from complete aggravation at being left out.
"Oh," the teen sighed. "Can I watch tomorrow?"
"You can follow silvery trails all day long," Willow chirped, patting the girl's back. She stood, taking a deep breath and looking down at Tara. Tara smiled, giving her strength, confidence. They had made the right choice. Xander would understand. It was time.
"Ready?" The redhead asked her oldest friend.
"Ready," Xander answered, grabbing her hand and letting her haul him off the couch. "Let's go watch for glittery slugs in the rain."
~~~~~
It was cold. Colder than it should have been. And hard. It was hard and cold.
Her eyes swam open to flickering light. A candle.
She blinked.
The room was dark. Where was the bed? Did they.. Not with the kids home. They had learned not to do anything involving breaking furniture or ending up floor bound when Emma had come to the door and wondering if everything was okay. Thank goodness he had locked it.
Buffy propped herself up on her elbows, shaking her head. She felt tired, but strangely alive. Now, that was an odd thought. Hadn't she always been alive? Well, at least recently.
It took a minute to sort it all out in her sleepy brain. Candle. Cold. Tile. Bathroom. Bathmat. Floor.
Spike.
Oh God.
She had to look no further than directly beneath her to find him. He was laid on the bathmat, a towel over his midsection. She was draped over his chest like a T. Like she had fallen asleep kneeling at his side and dropped down over him.
Buffy pushed herself up and it all flooded back. The blood. It had been everywhere. She glanced around the room and not a drop remained. Her hand fluttered to her face and came away clean and soft and scented like vanilla. The blood was gone from his marble figure. His hair was mussed bleached curls and his dark eyelashes lay quietly against pale skin. His chest rose and fell slowly as her hand nervously touched his bound neck, tracing the bandages with gentle fingers.
Her heart sank into her stomach and guilt crashed over her in a fiery wave of torment.
"Spike," she whispered into the air. There was nothing else she could say.
Tears began to fall as she remembered it. Felt it. Knew what she had done. Understood what he had done to survive and what he had sacrificed for her survival. The blood. His life, hers, draining out of him and into her. Coursing through her veins. Taking it from him greedily.
He hadn't done that when he had drunk from her. When they joined. He had sipped her like fine wine into ecstasy. He'd coddled her and cradled her and made her safe.
She had torn his throat out.
Buffy gulped, pulling herself up on shaky feet, the weight of her conscience making it that much harder to stand. She leaned down, using all of their combined strength to lift him up and carry him back into their room. Their bed.
Part of her wanted to run as she laid him out on the ivory sheets, pulling the blanket over his perfect form. Run away. Run hard. Run fast. That way she'd never have to look him in the eye again and admit what she had done. Never have to be reminded of it. Never have to know what he must have felt somewhere, sometime along the way. And she wouldn't have to know that he had known what she thought of it. What she thought of Vampires at one time. What the Slayer in her had thought.
Buffy shuddered, knowing that Spike now knew the disgust that she had once felt. And she had known his horror and his sadness.
How could he ever forgive her?
She turned, heading for the chest of drawers in search of clothes. There was no running forever. Sooner or later, she'd have to face this. But not now. Not now. The first drawer opened with a creak and she heard a moan.
That changes everything. Can't just leave him. "Spike?"
The moonlight was shining through the window, lighting his face in a silvery glow. Blue eyes flickered open and stared at her with love and desperation and need.
Tears pooled, hot and heavy behind her eyes. No. No, Dammit! That's not the look you're supposed to have. Hate. Disgust. Terror. Anger. Stop looking at me with those pretty, loving eyes, she thought.
"Buffy?" His voice was cracked, arid. It sounded so. sad. But the word was full of love. The way he said her name was like a symphony all in two syllables.
She swallowed, moving into the shadows. So he couldn't see. "Yes?" Her voice shook and she was torn between hopping out the window and running to him.
"Water, Pet," he said so quietly that she barely heard him. But it was something. Something fathomable. Something she could handle. Process. Do. A small step towards redemption.
Thoughts tumbled through her mind as she nearly killed herself getting into the sparkling clean bathroom and filling a tumbler full of the coldest water the tap could muster. Buffy ran, trying not to spill the water, and skidded to a halt next to the bed, holding it out for him.
Spike didn't take it. Instead, he moved over, wincing, patting the bed next to him. Gesturing for her to sit. The whole time, looking at her with those eyes. Those enormous blue pools full of nothing but love for her. Nothing but forgiveness. Unending, undying adoration. "Buffy," he repeated softly.
"I.I can't.." Buffy answered, choking back a sob, and pushing the water towards him again. He took it in one shaking hand and drank it all in one long draw. "I. I ."
"Shh," Spike whispered, finding her hand in his and tugging until her shaking form tumbled down next to him. She sat, her legs curled to her chest, rocking slightly. "Buffy, love."
"No." Her voice was wretched, racked with guilt, her body trembling from pretty pink toes to shiny blonde hair. "I. How can you."
"How can I what, Pet?" Spike asked, using all of his spare energy to push himself upright, leaning forward a little to balance over his own bent knees. His arms dangled down like a child.
The words were too small to hear. "Forgive me."
"For what?" Spike asked, his fingers fumbling under blankets until he could find her. He needed to touch her. Flesh to flesh. Needed to feel her.
She looked at him with drowning emerald eyes and hitched. "For.." Her hand reached his neck, her fingers shaking badly.
Spike reached up, cupping her hand under his and pressing it to the wound. "Nothing to forgive, Love," he whispered. "We do what we have to to keep each other alive."
"But I." Buffy stuttered.
His hand raised again, his finger pressing over her lips. "I'm alive, Pet. You're alive. And you're you again, if only for a while." His voice got quiet, remembering the time limit on their trade off. "We've got a chance to suss it out now. Worth every moment to have you here with me while we do."
Buffy's heart broke, knowing that he was telling her the truth. Spending thirteen more hours with her was worth nearly dying. Half a day, and he'd toy with death. Then it hit her.
She would have done the same.
Still, guilt was swallowing her whole. "Spike, I . I didn't realize."
"I know, Love," Spike interrupted, lying back on the bed and tugging her down with him. She laid, her arm draped over his chest, her wet cheek pressed to his shoulder. He stroked her back, letting his fingers tangle in her hair. "I knew you wouldn't know when to stop. But we had to."
"You knew?" Buffy asked, pushing herself up to see his eyes.
He nodded softly in the moonlight. "First feed. Usually someone has to pull you off if you're not meant to kill 'em."
"Then why?" Buffy asked, her hand tracing the bandage again and the tears still streaming in silver rivers.
Spike sighed. "Didn't have time. No one to ask. You needed help. I felt it, Buffy. I felt it consuming you. Couldn't let it have you. Not all of you." His grip became tighter, pulling her flush against him.
She was quiet for a long while, listening to his heart, trying to figure out what to do now. Where to go. "Please," Buffy finally whispered.
"Please what, Pet?" Spike asked, kissing the crown of her head.
"Please forgive me," Buffy whispered into the skin of his chest. "Please love me."
Spike pushed her up until they were eye to eye. His never wavered. They were still full of love. Devotion. Adoration. "Pet, I will *never* stop loving you. Ever. I will never leave you. Never leave the tots. I have nothing to forgive you for 'coz far as I'm concerned, we're One. We both made a choice. We both survived. We both are here. And we will win. So, no regrets. "
"But, Spike?"
"No," he whispered, pressing his lips softly to hers. "Regrets. Please, Buffy. Don't waste our time on something that isn't. We need to take what we have and save you."
Another rolling sob overtook her. "Spike."
"Please," Spike whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. "No regrets. You know that I love you."
She nodded, tears spilling from her eyes to his cheek.
"You know that I will love you always," he said, his hand cupping her cheek.
Again she nodded, her body still trembling in fear.
"No regrets, Love. Love always wins. " He smiled softly as she watched her remember the words from their conversation on the way home, and from Emma. She returned the smile, her fingers tracing his full lips.
"Then we win," Buffy whispered, her voice still shaky, but gaining confidence.
"We always will," Spike answered, drawing her closer. "Always."
To be contd.
Sigh. It's a two chapter week, I fear, as I sort of spent my extra writing time on a little ficlet for a friend. Still, I am coming to you this evening with a less angsty chapter, so that must be good for something:)
I do hope you enjoy it. I also hope to have the next bit out over the weekend.
Thanks so much for all of your feedback and please keep it coming. It saves my betas from having to give me endless pep talks!
*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue
"As sick as it sounds, in my little head, there's a little Sunnydale, and a widdle Spike and a widdle Buffy and Spike wubs Buffy." James Marsters 14 July 2002
Title: Regrets (Chapter Twenty-Four of The One)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG -13
Pairing: Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.
Feedback: Yes, please
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com . Also, please visit the wonderful fan listing that Rachel put together. Sign up today and link to your website (or just sign up to say hi!). The fan listing can be found at .
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)
Summary: Willow, Tara, Dawn and Oz master their plan to find the Pawn. Xander shows up unexpectedly to help. Buffy awakes to realize what she has done and has to deal with the repercussions.
Regrets
"So, you really think this will work?" Dawn asked, leaning over the cauldron of stinky stuff shimmering away in the basement.
"Dunno, Dawnie. It's hard to say with magic," Willow answered, shrugging. "I mean, I wanted to do a spell where we could reveal the pawn, but with Draconius's mojo, that wouldn't really work."
"He's strong," Tara contributed, winking at Dawn.
Oz sat in the love seat, his feet on a stool, watching. "So, what does this one do then?" He smiled in amusement at the enchanting ladies before him. Willow was so. in command now. So strong. Sure of herself. It made her even more appealing than she had been when they were in high school. He sighed, knowing that this was only a short term thing. Like knowing something you care for would disappear, and trying to make the best of it while it lasted. But, he hoped, at least this way he'd be a permanent part of her, of their, lives. That was something he could be happy about, regardless of what was to come.
"Well," Willow sighed. "It *should* create a trace. Like a vapour trail," she joked, nodding at Oz.
"And I would know about that how?" He mocked, raising an eyebrow.
"Life on the road," Willow chided in return. "The temptations of stardom."
"Ah, yes," Oz answered, nodding. "My Led Zeppelin phase. I'd almost forgotten about my triple platinum."
"Back to the point," Dawn huffed, crossing her arms. Oz was becoming more like Spike around her friends. Particularly, Willow and Tara. She might need to start taking insulin if she had to watch any more flirty banter.
"Right," Willow said, shifting her gaze back to Dawn. "If we can't expose the pawn, then maybe we can follow it when it moves. See, the spell will make a sort of cosmic trail behind it wherever it goes. Kind of like following breadcrumbs. But sparkly."
"Ooh, did we get a pretty colour?" Tara asked, nudging Willow with her elbow.
Willow sighed, frowning. "Nope. Seems that the Goddess is a silver kinda gal."
"Sparkly though?" Dawn asked, her face hopeful.
"Sparkly, check." Willow answered, smiling. "Which will help. Since silver is kinda hard to pick up during the day."
"Ah, but canine senses," Oz joked, sniffing the air and opening his eyes wide.
"Yes, and a Vampire too," Tara contributed. "Silver is fine, baby." She leaned in to kiss her lover's cheek.
The word. The sweetness of it. The kiss. All of them sent little jolts through Oz, making him both more apprehensive and more excited about their upcoming . meeting. Still, he thought, they'd better make up their mind soon as he'd have to disappear for a few days for the full moon. He didn't think that Tara's new experiences with men needed to involve fur and fangs and blood.
Damn, what *should* they include? Points to ponder, Oz considered, leaning back into the chair.
"So, what do we have to do now?" Dawn asked, watching the bubbling liquid.
"Not much," Willow explained. "Figure out a guard schedule. What good's a sparkly trail if no one's there to see it?"
"We should to it in twos," Tara suggested, smiling softly. "Double the eyes."
"Double the pleasure," Dawn chirped, smiling at her own joke.
Yes, Oz thought, his hand rising to his chin and rubbing in contemplation. He shook his head. Must help Spike and Buffy. Must remove Penthouse forum thoughts from wolfy mind. Must focus.
As if on cue, Xander walked sleepily down the stairs, rubbing his face. "And hello to the Wicca department of Sunnydale's Number One demon fighting machine."
Willow quirked a brow. "I thought you went home?"
"I did," Xander answered, shaking the cobwebs from his head. "But River got fussy and Takina was up and I couldn't sleep so she suggested I come over here and help if I were already moving around."
Oz took one look at the sweatpants and ripped t-shirt on his old friend. "And didn't feel the need to dress first?"
"We live half a block away, Oz," Xander complained. "If I dressed every time I commuted between chez Harris and.. God, don't make me say it."
"They're married, now," Dawn said, prodding Xander.
"Don't remind me. Anyway, if I dressed every time I went from there to here, I'd be. dressed all the time," Xander muttered, rubbing his face again. "Okay, and that made sense how?"
Willow chuckled, surveying the room. "Well, until the rest get here in the morning, we should guard in shifts."
"Morning? Guard? Shifts?" Xander asked, his brain still squirming back to that of the awake Xander Harris.
"We cast a spell on the pawn. It's going to make glittery trails," Dawn squealed, pleased that they not only let her watch, but taught her how to help.
"Ooh, like a slug,"" Xander snarked. "Only glittery. And hopefully prettier."
"So, work in twos? " Tara continued.
"Sounds good," Oz answered.
"Why don't you and Xander go first," Tara began, nodding at Willow, her eyes betraying more than the others could see. It was time. Xander needed to know. "I'll take Dawnie," she continued.
"No," Willow said, her eyes being just as communicative. "I think that you should take Oz. Get to know each other a bit. Dawn can be our inside eyes and ears. Not to mention keep an ear out on the kids."
"Hey," Dawn whined.
"It's raining anyway, Dawnie," Xander said, relieving her from complete aggravation at being left out.
"Oh," the teen sighed. "Can I watch tomorrow?"
"You can follow silvery trails all day long," Willow chirped, patting the girl's back. She stood, taking a deep breath and looking down at Tara. Tara smiled, giving her strength, confidence. They had made the right choice. Xander would understand. It was time.
"Ready?" The redhead asked her oldest friend.
"Ready," Xander answered, grabbing her hand and letting her haul him off the couch. "Let's go watch for glittery slugs in the rain."
~~~~~
It was cold. Colder than it should have been. And hard. It was hard and cold.
Her eyes swam open to flickering light. A candle.
She blinked.
The room was dark. Where was the bed? Did they.. Not with the kids home. They had learned not to do anything involving breaking furniture or ending up floor bound when Emma had come to the door and wondering if everything was okay. Thank goodness he had locked it.
Buffy propped herself up on her elbows, shaking her head. She felt tired, but strangely alive. Now, that was an odd thought. Hadn't she always been alive? Well, at least recently.
It took a minute to sort it all out in her sleepy brain. Candle. Cold. Tile. Bathroom. Bathmat. Floor.
Spike.
Oh God.
She had to look no further than directly beneath her to find him. He was laid on the bathmat, a towel over his midsection. She was draped over his chest like a T. Like she had fallen asleep kneeling at his side and dropped down over him.
Buffy pushed herself up and it all flooded back. The blood. It had been everywhere. She glanced around the room and not a drop remained. Her hand fluttered to her face and came away clean and soft and scented like vanilla. The blood was gone from his marble figure. His hair was mussed bleached curls and his dark eyelashes lay quietly against pale skin. His chest rose and fell slowly as her hand nervously touched his bound neck, tracing the bandages with gentle fingers.
Her heart sank into her stomach and guilt crashed over her in a fiery wave of torment.
"Spike," she whispered into the air. There was nothing else she could say.
Tears began to fall as she remembered it. Felt it. Knew what she had done. Understood what he had done to survive and what he had sacrificed for her survival. The blood. His life, hers, draining out of him and into her. Coursing through her veins. Taking it from him greedily.
He hadn't done that when he had drunk from her. When they joined. He had sipped her like fine wine into ecstasy. He'd coddled her and cradled her and made her safe.
She had torn his throat out.
Buffy gulped, pulling herself up on shaky feet, the weight of her conscience making it that much harder to stand. She leaned down, using all of their combined strength to lift him up and carry him back into their room. Their bed.
Part of her wanted to run as she laid him out on the ivory sheets, pulling the blanket over his perfect form. Run away. Run hard. Run fast. That way she'd never have to look him in the eye again and admit what she had done. Never have to be reminded of it. Never have to know what he must have felt somewhere, sometime along the way. And she wouldn't have to know that he had known what she thought of it. What she thought of Vampires at one time. What the Slayer in her had thought.
Buffy shuddered, knowing that Spike now knew the disgust that she had once felt. And she had known his horror and his sadness.
How could he ever forgive her?
She turned, heading for the chest of drawers in search of clothes. There was no running forever. Sooner or later, she'd have to face this. But not now. Not now. The first drawer opened with a creak and she heard a moan.
That changes everything. Can't just leave him. "Spike?"
The moonlight was shining through the window, lighting his face in a silvery glow. Blue eyes flickered open and stared at her with love and desperation and need.
Tears pooled, hot and heavy behind her eyes. No. No, Dammit! That's not the look you're supposed to have. Hate. Disgust. Terror. Anger. Stop looking at me with those pretty, loving eyes, she thought.
"Buffy?" His voice was cracked, arid. It sounded so. sad. But the word was full of love. The way he said her name was like a symphony all in two syllables.
She swallowed, moving into the shadows. So he couldn't see. "Yes?" Her voice shook and she was torn between hopping out the window and running to him.
"Water, Pet," he said so quietly that she barely heard him. But it was something. Something fathomable. Something she could handle. Process. Do. A small step towards redemption.
Thoughts tumbled through her mind as she nearly killed herself getting into the sparkling clean bathroom and filling a tumbler full of the coldest water the tap could muster. Buffy ran, trying not to spill the water, and skidded to a halt next to the bed, holding it out for him.
Spike didn't take it. Instead, he moved over, wincing, patting the bed next to him. Gesturing for her to sit. The whole time, looking at her with those eyes. Those enormous blue pools full of nothing but love for her. Nothing but forgiveness. Unending, undying adoration. "Buffy," he repeated softly.
"I.I can't.." Buffy answered, choking back a sob, and pushing the water towards him again. He took it in one shaking hand and drank it all in one long draw. "I. I ."
"Shh," Spike whispered, finding her hand in his and tugging until her shaking form tumbled down next to him. She sat, her legs curled to her chest, rocking slightly. "Buffy, love."
"No." Her voice was wretched, racked with guilt, her body trembling from pretty pink toes to shiny blonde hair. "I. How can you."
"How can I what, Pet?" Spike asked, using all of his spare energy to push himself upright, leaning forward a little to balance over his own bent knees. His arms dangled down like a child.
The words were too small to hear. "Forgive me."
"For what?" Spike asked, his fingers fumbling under blankets until he could find her. He needed to touch her. Flesh to flesh. Needed to feel her.
She looked at him with drowning emerald eyes and hitched. "For.." Her hand reached his neck, her fingers shaking badly.
Spike reached up, cupping her hand under his and pressing it to the wound. "Nothing to forgive, Love," he whispered. "We do what we have to to keep each other alive."
"But I." Buffy stuttered.
His hand raised again, his finger pressing over her lips. "I'm alive, Pet. You're alive. And you're you again, if only for a while." His voice got quiet, remembering the time limit on their trade off. "We've got a chance to suss it out now. Worth every moment to have you here with me while we do."
Buffy's heart broke, knowing that he was telling her the truth. Spending thirteen more hours with her was worth nearly dying. Half a day, and he'd toy with death. Then it hit her.
She would have done the same.
Still, guilt was swallowing her whole. "Spike, I . I didn't realize."
"I know, Love," Spike interrupted, lying back on the bed and tugging her down with him. She laid, her arm draped over his chest, her wet cheek pressed to his shoulder. He stroked her back, letting his fingers tangle in her hair. "I knew you wouldn't know when to stop. But we had to."
"You knew?" Buffy asked, pushing herself up to see his eyes.
He nodded softly in the moonlight. "First feed. Usually someone has to pull you off if you're not meant to kill 'em."
"Then why?" Buffy asked, her hand tracing the bandage again and the tears still streaming in silver rivers.
Spike sighed. "Didn't have time. No one to ask. You needed help. I felt it, Buffy. I felt it consuming you. Couldn't let it have you. Not all of you." His grip became tighter, pulling her flush against him.
She was quiet for a long while, listening to his heart, trying to figure out what to do now. Where to go. "Please," Buffy finally whispered.
"Please what, Pet?" Spike asked, kissing the crown of her head.
"Please forgive me," Buffy whispered into the skin of his chest. "Please love me."
Spike pushed her up until they were eye to eye. His never wavered. They were still full of love. Devotion. Adoration. "Pet, I will *never* stop loving you. Ever. I will never leave you. Never leave the tots. I have nothing to forgive you for 'coz far as I'm concerned, we're One. We both made a choice. We both survived. We both are here. And we will win. So, no regrets. "
"But, Spike?"
"No," he whispered, pressing his lips softly to hers. "Regrets. Please, Buffy. Don't waste our time on something that isn't. We need to take what we have and save you."
Another rolling sob overtook her. "Spike."
"Please," Spike whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. "No regrets. You know that I love you."
She nodded, tears spilling from her eyes to his cheek.
"You know that I will love you always," he said, his hand cupping her cheek.
Again she nodded, her body still trembling in fear.
"No regrets, Love. Love always wins. " He smiled softly as she watched her remember the words from their conversation on the way home, and from Emma. She returned the smile, her fingers tracing his full lips.
"Then we win," Buffy whispered, her voice still shaky, but gaining confidence.
"We always will," Spike answered, drawing her closer. "Always."
To be contd.