It was two in the morning when Spike sensed her, feeling her before he could hear her or even see her, one of the many perks of being a souled vampire. He could almost feel her essence moving with her body as she left the front porch, as she walked through the foyer, into the kitchen, until she stood at the top of the basement stairs. Someway, somehow he was connected to her, and though he didn't understand it, he embraced it completely.

Musing over his fate as he stared into the amulet's sparkling, jewelled surface was no longer important to him. Buffy was coming to see him, of her own accord. Of all the people in the world, she was visiting him. Delight stole over his unbeating heart. He could hear her footsteps coming down the step and her familiar, unforgettable scent hit his heightened senses like a perfumed wind.

Rising, he pocketed the necklace and faced her. He never could get over just how beautiful she was. Each time he saw her, it was a shock to his system, over and over. No wonder she was his obsession. She gazed at him directly, her eyes large, green, and clear, her hair a halo of gold, her posture almost uneasy. He didn't breach the ten foot gap between them, but just met her gaze, wondering. They looked at each other in a kind of trance until Buffy glanced away. Spike broke the silence.

"After some cold comfort from the cellar dweller, are you?" he asked, his tone friendly but ironic.

"Spike." Buffy scolded, crinkling her nose and moving closer.

"How are you holding up?"

She sighed deeply. "I'm coping. You know me, I'm a coper. I was standing on the front porch, looking at the stars, wondering if it would be the last night sky I see." She groaned, pouting prettily. "I can't sleep."

Spike gave her a forbidding but teasing look, his turn to scold her. "And everyone else?"

"Giles, Xander, Andrew, and Amanda are in the kitchen playing Dungeons and Dragons while Anya has a nap on the table top." Buffy smiled.

Spike chuckled.

"Willow is with Kennedy and Dawn is with the potentials upstairs. They all seem to be fine, considering what they have to face in a matter of hours."

Spike nodded, noticing as she inched closer to him, slowly breaching the gap. Her scent and heat warmed his cool skin, thrilling him in spite of himself.

"For once, I'm not the only one at good old 1630 Ravello who's not sleeping." He commented ruefully.

Buffy rolled her eyes good naturedly. "Understatement of the year!" she laughed. "You know the weird thing? I'm not even tired. My mind is just going a million miles an hour."

"My advice would be not to think." Spike smiled at her, mentally begging her to come closer. "I wish!" Buffy said. "Do you want to take a walk with me? We'd just be quick and stay nearby, get some fresh air."

He was flattered by her unexpected invitation.

"Sure." He replied, slipping on his long leather coat and following her out.

The late spring night was clear, cool, and crisp, the velvet black sky scattered with diamond-like stars. A gentle breeze danced across their skin. Such peace and tranquility seemed unreal on the eve of the Apocalypse. At that moment, all was right with the world, no matter what the future held. Spike was content walking alongside Buffy, the woman he loved, watching the starlight play over her features. Though he knew he wasn't worthy, he longed to reach out and touch her, feel her warmth and soft skin, run his fingers through the waving silk of her hair, taste the sweetness of her kiss. He could hardly recall the last time he kissed her or touched her. He didn't dare try. He knew he was unworthy of a smile from her, much less a caress, but the longing burned inside him, as did the memories. Glancing over to her, he saw how close she was, the sliver of space between their hands. How badly he wanted her to twine her fingers with his...He took in her delicate profile, the rigidity of her slender shoulders, and he saw such tension, such concentration, such worry. He groped for the words to break the ice and ease her mind.

"Buffy," he breathed, "what's really bothering you?" She shook her head wearily. "God, I wish I could tell you. I've got to be strong for everyone, right? So I don't dare say it." Spike stopped her suddenly. He dared to place his hand at her upper arm. Such a small touch, but he couldn't hold out any longer. She turned to him, her expression surprised, but not angry.

"Buffy, you know you can tell me anything, anything you want and I won't..."

"I'm scared!" she interrupted. "I've never been so scared in my entire life, even as a slayer. It chokes me.."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, pet." He said supportively.

"I'm so scared, I can't see straight. What if Willow can't carry out the spell to activate the potentials? What if I was wrong all along? I'm scared for Dawn, my friends, all the potentials...you..."

Her confession threw Spike for a loop. He was struck dumb for a few seconds, but recovered swiftly. Buffy looked at him apprehensively. Obviously, she didn't want to reveal all that she said. Spike longed for her not to regret one word. "I'll do what I have to. You entrusted me with whatever the hell this is." He began, pulling the amulet from his pocket, the pendant dangling from his fingers. "I trust you, Buffy. If you believe I'm a champion, then dammit, that's what I'll be."

"Spike, it's not all about being a champion, it's more complicated than that." She said, taking the amulet from him, their fingers brushing. She gazed thoughtfully into the jewel's depths.

"This thing is dangerous, volatile. There's no telling what it will do or what it's capable of. Let's have Willow have a look at it. Maybe she could come up with a charm or spell or some kind of, I don't know ... doohickey to make it stable..."

Spike took the amulet away from her, the chain sliding through her fingers. "We can't do that. We're dabbling in forces we know nothing about. Who bloody knows what kind of effect some hocus pocus would have on it?"

He revelled in her concern, but was proud of his level-headedness. This damn soul does have its purposes after all, he thought absently. When he looked at her, Buffy's green eyes were glistening with tears.

"I know." she said quietly. "I know you're right. It's.. it's just that...remember when I told you I wasn't ready to let you go?"

He nodded, readying himself for what the slayer was about to say. She took a breath, not meeting his eyes. "I'm still not ready, Spike."

Spike's heart leapt to his throat. He thought about being silent, letting the moment linger, but he had to ask, he had to voice the thoughts he had for so long.

"Buffy, why?" He asked almost desperately. "Lately, things have been really...muddled between us. I've loved you for such a bloody long time and I've only just gotten a chance to be close to you. That night was the best of my entire God forsaken life. I'm scared, too. I didn't know why until recently. I'm terrified you won't ever be able to feel the same. What does that mean for me? I can't make sense of it, whether or not it means anything to you..."

As soon as Spike said the words, he regretted every syllable. He felt extremely weak and vulnerable. Until he saw Buffy's expression change.

Buffy's hands shook and she was unable to hold eye contact with him. She seemed about to burst into tears. Though Spike was moved by her emotional display, he hated himself for putting her through any kind of anguish. "Spike..it means a lot to me. I'm just as scared as you are, probably much, much more. I don't know what to do or say. All..all I know is what I feel." she managed to say seriously, her voice wavering with emotion, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Spike's jaw dropped, his emotions running wildly through his head and his heart. The words came rushing forth before he had time to even realize he was saying them, that they actually fell from his lips.

"What is it that you feel?" He asked rapidly, desperation lacing the hushed tone of his voice. "You said it yourself, no more defensiveness or mixed signals. What do you feel, if anything, for me?"

She was silent, still avoiding his gaze. Before he knew what he was doing, Spike caught Buffy's chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. Intense blue eyes met starry green. He was horrified with himself as her lip gently quivered and a tear fell, streaking down her face, sliding over his hand, hot, wet, and very real. She jerked her chin from his grasp. Turning back home, she left him standing in the dark.

Spike cursed himself under his breath, using the absolute worst expletives he could think of. He started after her, giving her space but keeping a close eye on her in case anything happened. He loathed himself for upsetting her, making her cry. His hand was still slippery with her tears and he absently brought his finger to his lips, tasting the salty flavor of her sadness. A shiver rocked his body. He was hardly fit to walk alongside her, what the hell did he think he was doing actually tasting her tears? The realization sunk into him, his bitterness and self loathing growing, dashing his hope to pieces.

Buffy unexpectedly went to the basement. Spike didn't have a clue what she was up to, so he just followed her, playing the part of a silent shadow. She perched upon his cot, and soon, opened her mouth to speak.

"You are in my heart," she said simply, " I guess that's what I was trying to say the other night when I got back. You know when I said I was with you? I know we both agreed not to go so deeply into it but...that's how I feel. No one makes me feel like you do, Spike, no one. I ... you are...in my heart."

At once, she met his eyes, and he was completely enraptured. Spike didn't know what to say. He thought he managed to walk into a dream, but everything was so real, her eyes, her words, her beauty, all so very real.

He sat next to her on the cot, taking her hand gently and squeezing it. She turned to him, touching his face tenderly, tracing the scar on his eyebrow and the slant of his cheek.

"Buffy," he said huskily, "could I...would you stake me if I..." "Kiss me, William." she commanded, finishing his thought.

He didn't have to be told twice. Spike had been longing for this moment for so long, and his heart flew. He pulled Buffy against him, and their mouths met so softly, barely a brush of lips. All at once, memories returned, warm familiarity washing over them. They kissed passionately, lovingly. Spike did all the things he longed to do, running his fingers through her hair, tasting her lips, caressing the satin of her skin, and feeling the warmth of her body seep deliciously into his. Buffy leaned back, caught up in the moment, pulling Spike with her, covering her body with his. Their impassioned embrace reached a fever pitch, their kisses desperate, deep, and insistent. Buffy reached for the fly of his jeans, undoing it swiftly with her nimble hands. Spike was shocked yet emboldened by her gesture. He sent hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, lifting her shirt to kiss her stomach. Then, reality slammed into him. He drew away from Buffy slightly, her face the picture of disappointment. "What's ... what's the matter?" she asked in a tiny voice, panting. He kissed the tip of her nose. "This isn't right, luv." "What? Why?" Spike sat back, zipping his fly and buckling his belt. "God, Buffy, I want you...I want you so much it hurts, but not like this. You deserve better than this, so much better."

She gazed back at him with large eyes, very surprised. He enfolded his arms around her. "I always told myself that if you ever gave me another chance, I wouldn't make a mess of it. You've had such faith in me these past several months, even when I disappointed you, and I vowed I would never do that again...if I manage that, then maybe one day I'll see pride in your eyes when you look at me."

He sighed, pausing. Buffy gave him a tender, meaningful look. She kissed him, softly and sweetly.

"You think we could give this another go, after all this chaos is over and done with?"

"You have a deal." she replied.