Chapter 27

Spike's body was healed. There weren't even any scars. His chest and back were smooth, and he had the rosy glow of health. No more bleeding, no more bruises, no more bite marks that wouldn't heal. He was stronger too. Strong enough to spar with Buffy.

They had wanted to spar. Though neither of them said the words one last time, they had both thought them. Angel let them use his training room—it was huge, and full of weapons. They bypassed the weapons though, both preferring to do this hand-to-hand. It wasn't as awkward as when they had tried to fight on the street, but Buffy still pulled her punches. The body may be healed, but it would never be a strong or agile as Spike used to be.

Spike grew short of breath quickly, but he didn't stop, and didn't let Buffy stop either. He got one good punch in, knocking her flat on her ass, and they both stared at each other for seconds, maybe minutes. He stood above her, hovering, unsure of whether or not he should offer his hand. When he finally did, she yanked on his arm, and he fell hard to the floor. He kicked her, but she rolled out of the way and stood up. He moved fast, and was able to knock her legs out from under her before she could get far.

Spike jumped to his feet again, and Buffy did too. Something shifted between them, something subtle and small. Suddenly, this wasn't about sparring anymore. They tore into each other, viciously hitting, kicking, and punching. Spike forgot that he wasn't as agile or quick, and let his demon take over. They both fought as though their lives depended on it, locked in a battle to the death. They bruised each other, drew blood from each other, and slammed each other against the walls and onto the floors.

Spike's breath was coming in ragged gasps, and there was a trickle of blood flowing down his face from a cut above his eye. He didn't mind though. For the first time in a very long time, years even, he felt really alive. His body was sore, but it was a comfortable kind of pain, like an old friend. His heart was pounding…and he was hard, wanting her so bad that it hurt worse than the fists and the boots. He was having so much fun, that it took him several minutes to realize that Buffy was not.

As the fight progressed, she grew more and more distant, began pulling her punches and ducking away from him. Curious and a bit upset that the fight was winding down, Spike grabbed her shoulders and slammed her against the wall, pinning her to it with his body. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? Nothing. Here, let me show you…" She moved to punch him, but Spike caught her fist, and grabbed her other wrist. She bucked against him, but instead of stepping back, he groaned.

"You better not do that again, Slayer."

"Or what? You'll…"

He kissed her hard, cutting off her words. When he finally pulled away, he asked her again, "What's wrong?"

She pushed him away so hard that he stumbled back, releasing his grip on her. "You're leaving me again."

"Buffy…"

"This is like, your way of saying goodbye, isn't it? Let me pound the shit out of you for old time's sake…and then you're just going to leave, aren't you?"

"Hey! I'm not the only one taking a pounding…"

Her fist came flying to his nose, but he caught it before she connected. "Watch it, Slayer, that would have hurt."

"When were you going to tell me, Spike? How long have you known?"

"What makes you so certain that I'm leaving?"

"You're not?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned around and began walking to the bench. Suddenly, he was very, very tired. She grabbed his arm and spun him around. "Don't Spike. Don't walk away like…"

"Buffy, how was I supposed to tell you? I didn't know how! If I knew how, I would have. I tried to write a letter, but nothing worked and…"

"You can't just leave me again, Spike. You can't."

"I thought that's what you wanted!"

"No! Damnit, this whole thing happened because I wanted you back. I was trying to get you back. I missed you."

"What, you think I want to leave you again? You think that I don't want to be with you? Being with you…it's better than anything Heaven has to offer me, Buffy."

"Then why are you going?"

"Slayer, you know…I shouldn't call you that anymore."

"What, Slayer?"

"Yeah."

"Why not?"

"For the same reason I'm going. You're not one anymore."

"I'll always be the Slayer…"

Spike shook his head. "No, now you're Buffy."

"And Buffy isn't good enough for you?"

"Buffy is all I'll ever need."

"Then why, Spike?"

"I'm not good enough for you."

Buffy shook her head. "Oh no you don't. I've heard this speech before. I swear to God, if I hear you say the words 'normal life', I'm going to kick you in the balls."

"Well, I'm going to risk it. I know why Angel left…the misplaced, insane, pigheaded notion that he was holding you back from a normal life, not your calling. He always had a very high opinion of himself, like the whole world revolves around him. 'Ooh my soul, ooh my guilt, wah wah wah."

"Spike, get to the point."

"Oh, right, well, that's over, isn't it? The slaying gig, that is. You already have a normal life, Buffy. You're young, and soon Dawn is going to be all grown up and you'll be free to do whatever you want. Anything in the world. I died so you could do that, Buffy. That's all I wanted for you. I don't fit in here."

"Yes you do…"

"No, I don't, and you know it. When you were the Slayer, when your life was on the line every night, when vampires were lining up to have their one good day…you needed a bit of monster in your man. You needed someone strong enough to fight beside you and with you. I'm not what you need anymore, pet."

"Don't tell me what I need. What are going to do? Be all noble again for my own good? I don't need you to sacrifice yourself for me again, Spike."

"Maybe it's for me. Maybe it's not about you at all…oh, who am I kidding? It's always about you. But that doesn't change the fact that my mind is made up."

"You think William will be better suited for my new life?"

Spike shrugged. "I have no idea what's going to happen with him. It'll be nice if you kept him around, since he loves you and all, but…"

"But?"

"But I'm not doing this just so you can be with him, or he can be with you. Do you want to? Wait, you know, don't answer that."

"When do you think you're going to leave?"

"Well, soon…but then, you bruised me all up again. And I think I sprained my ankle."

"It would be cruel to make William deal with a battered and beaten body."

"It really would. Hurts like a bugger, you know."

"Oh, you poor baby. Let me see…"

"You could at least have the good grace to act like you're injured too."

"Oh, right." She stuck out her lower lip, "Ow, Spike, you hurt my wrist."

Spike shook his head. "Sparring with you is no fun anymore."

"I don't know, I had lots of fun. Come here so I can bandage up your ankle, and clean the blood off your face."

"I don't need your help."

"I have an excellent bed side manner. You may not need my help…but you probably want it."

"Are you going to kiss all my bruises and make them better?"

"I might do other things to make them better."

The thought of shagging the Slayer in Angel's training room…where he'd have to smell it and deal with it for days, maybe even weeks after Spike left, was intoxicating. Absolutely exhilarating.

"You know, we should focus on the 'other things'. What do you have in mind?"

Buffy proceeded to show him with great enthusiasm