Author's note: Of course, all belongs to Master Whedon. I am but a poor player begging for crumbs at the foot of his genius.

So, shall I continue this thread? What do you think?

R/R, pretty please.

Enjoy!

Voices Inside My Head

He's listening, every word that she utters washing over him like warm syrup, like the rhythmic, gentle waves of a calm sea. There's no order to her thoughts. They're random and he understands. It's not easy, putting something so intangible into words: the Whys and the Hows.

He's listening to her thoughts spill forth and it's like so much fine wine. He's drunk again just from the sight and the sound of her, but his head is clear and his unbeating heart gets lighter and lighter with each syllable...each smile...each bat of her feathery eyelashes when she looks up at him.

She doesn't hate him.

She's forgiven him.

Can he forgive her. Of course, luv. He thinks it, but he doesn't say it because he doesn't want to break the spell of her.

Does he understand what he means to her? No, tell me.

More than he realizes.

Does he understand what a journey he's on? Yes, it's the one to you.

Perhaps.

What made him go to Africa?

No, don't answer that. Don't need to answer, you already know.

Yes, I do.

She looks down. It hurts to think of last year. I know. I'm sorry.

She's so sorry for everything. No need, but thank you.

She wishes things could've been different. They can. They are.

But she was so confused then. Was?

She smiles, looks up...such beautiful eyes. Yes, was.

She doesn't think she is anymore. She knows me so well...knows what I'm thin—

He stops mid-thought and swallows hard, his Adam's apple dipping impossibly low. He realizes that her lips had stopped moving a while ago. Her voice is inside his head, inside of him.

There's a moment of panic as he recalls his encounters with the First. But the warm fingers tracing circles on the back of his hand do not belong to evil and he eases down from that notion.

The backdoor opens. Xander sticks his head out. He's about to call for Buffy when he sees her and the blonde bloodsucker sitting on the step, knees touching, hands entangled their fingers stroking one another's, silently gazing into each other. He fights down the nausea rising from the pit of his stomach. They don't seem to notice him, so he watches, his anger brewing. He should probably feel guilty for invading Buffy's privacy, but he dismisses it. It's just Spike. He thinks to himself.

Xander watches. A little unsure of what's going on, he still doesn't like it. He's been watching them for several minutes and neither of them has uttered a word. Their facial expressions are changing subtly, one reacting to the other, but no words. Perhaps it's a thrall, like with the Master, he thinks, and he steps out of the door with the intention of breaking their concentration. At that moment, Spike finally speaks.

"Wha?" Spike's eyes are wide, tears dancing on the rims. He cocks his head, as if he does not quite understand something.

"I-I said..." Buffy stutters aloud, "I think th-that maybe...I kinda love you too."

TBC