Part Ten - Trying William

Spike strolled across the cemetery. It had been a long night. After he had left Buffy's house, he had gone patrolling, desperately needing to kill something, some diversion from the Slayer. So he had staked four our five vampires, and beheaded a chaos demon. That one had been a personal pleasure. Although he hadn't loved Drusilla anymore for quite some time now, some grudges only slowly disappeared. Drusilla…

For a brief moment, he really had considered leaving the town. Go back to England, or maybe look how things were going in good old New York. They had spent a marvelous time there, he and his Black Lady. Of course, his love of a hundred and twenty years had turned to dust, literally. Yet the memories were still alive. He could go and see the old places again, seeking new challenges, perhaps even find someone new to share the endless nights with. He had never been one for being alone, the silence was something he couldn't bear. But Spike knew that he would never leave Sunnydale. Not as long as his Slayer was alive. He might have given up on winning her love, but he would always protect her. I'm sorry, Dru. But you were right. The girl was everywhere he went. Ever present. And pathetic excuse of a vampire that he was, he just couldn't seem to get rid of her. I'm such a wanker, he thought in disgust. Bloody chip is gone, sodding poof hangs on.

He reached his crypt, pushed the door open - and stopped short. Light. Light? With mistrust written on his face, he eyed the place he had come to think of as his home. There were dozens of candles, apart from those he had already put there for the occasional use before he had managed to hook on some electric wire, and each of them was lit. They filled the room with their flickering light, sending strange shadows dancing across the walls. The vampire listened carefully. Maybe some freaking couple had decided to use the crypt as their romantic playground. Oh yeah, very romantic, with a broken TV set in the middle of the room and the fridge a few steps across. But no sound was to be heard, apart from the faint sizzle of a candle flame now and again. He glanced around, still suspicious, but at the same time already pretty sure that he was alone. He entered the room.

Warm light caressed his handsome features as he made his way towards the entrance to the lower level. He knelt down, lifted the heavy stone, and with a quick glance checked the room underneath him. Empty. Letting the door slide back into its place, he looked around. No one there.

Spike got up. So, his crypt was empty, but illuminated by tons of sodding candles. What the hell is going on? It was then that he spotted it. A single red rose on top of his sarcophagus. He stood stunned for a moment. Is this… a joke? Hesitantly, he stepped over to it. Beneath the flower laid a sheet of paper, covered in handwriting. He took the rose, before picking up the paper with his other hand and reading the first line, which was a bit separated from the others.

'Spike. I'm not very good with words, but for you, I'll try.'

The vampire gasped as realization hit him. Buffy! He lowered the sheet, to look at the rose as if he saw it for the first time. It was perfect, soft red petals shimmering in the unsteady light that filled the room. But then again, to him everything that came from her was perfect. He eyed the piece of paper in his hand, suddenly filled with uncertainty. Slowly, he raised it, drawing in a deep breath, desperately needed not for the oxygen, but to steady himself for things to come. Standing frozen to the spot, he read on, drinking in every syllable.

'In deepest dark I see you walk, you, who were once my enemy.

But every time we fight or talk, it seems you are so near to me.

I can't describe the way I feel, whenever I sense you around.

It is as if my soul you heal, releasing all emotion bound.

The light I seek, that makes me rest, it's nothing when compared to you.

For every feeling you confessed, believe me, love, I feel it too.

I love you, Spike. I really do.'

As he stood there, staring blankly at what he just read, two warm arms found their way around his waist. He didn't turn as he felt her press her face into his back, embracing him ever so tenderly. He was too busy blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Bloody awful poetry," Buffy said softly behind him. "I thought you might like it."

"I do," he croaked, not trusting his voice enough to say any more.

"I mean it, you know. Every single word," she whispered. Still, he didn't move. "I love you, Spike. I don't know when it happened. I don't even know when I realized that it was there. But I know that it's real. Not excitement. Not loss. Just love."

A single tear escaped its prison, rolling down his cheek. This can't be, I'm dreaming, this can't ever be… He fought hard to keep his composure, but feeling her presence so close to him crumbled every defense he could possibly think of.

"Spike?"

How long had he waited for her? How long had he been yearning to hear those very words she just said? Just now that he'd given up on her, that he'd let go of all hope she could ever see anything else but a vampire in him. He had been dreaming of this moment, imagining how it would be, what he would say, how they would kiss each other and live happily ever after. But could he trust the truth in her words? Every time he had dared to open up to her, she had slammed the door right back into his face, leaving him hurt and alone. Could he trust her when she promised that all this pain belonged to the past? Could he? I just don't know…

"Spike, speak with me."

He felt her body shift beside him, one warm hand resting on his chest as she moved around to face him. He stared ahead, refusing to look at her, afraid of what he might read in her eyes. Betrayal. Mockery. Love. No, not love, never love. She's the Slayer, and you're just a bloody vampire. A soulless monster. She could never develop any feeling for him apart from distaste. Or could she?

"I never thought I'd see you cry," Buffy whispered.

Spike began to tremble as her other hand reached up and touched the wet trail his tear had left, caressing his cheek with its warmth. She was so tender… and he wanted so desperately to believe that she really loved him, that she really cared.

"Spike, please, talk to me!" At the choked sound of her voice, he couldn't help looking down at her. And what he saw hit him harder than any blow she had ever landed on him. Tears were silently streaming down her face, and he had to touch them to see they were real.

"You're crying," he whispered hoarsely, his hand resting on her cheek. She just looked back at him, her shining hazel eyes glimmering with the light of the candles. "Why?"

"I'm just afraid I lost you." Her voice was so low that even he had trouble hearing her words. "I'm scared that I pushed you away so often that you won't let me in anymore. That you can't love me anymore after all that I've said. After all the hurt I caused you. And I'm scared that you will leave me before I even had the chance to show you how I feel."

New tears followed, and the vampire felt a wave of emotion wash over him. He looked at the small blonde in front of him, seriousness in his blue eyes as he placed his hand on the one still resting on his chest.

"I could never leave you," he said quietly. "You should know that. My heart may not beat, but I still feel. I love you, Buffy. More than I could ever tell you."

Buffy flung herself into his arms, and he held her, pressing her shaking body tightly against his own. Soon, his black T-Shirt was soaked by her tears, but he wouldn't let go of her. She felt so good, her warmth against his own coldness; she felt right. He just wished this could be real.

As her sobs slowly ebbed away, he released his grip, allowing himself to stroke her back. This seemed to calm her down even more, and she buried her face in his chest.

"I love you," her muffled voice stated.

Spike sighed. This will get hard. "No, you don't," he said. The body in his arms stiffened, and he swallowed. "I know you've been through a lot lately, the loss of your mother, that thing with Glory, and then Riley. It's only natural that your feelings get confused and you go looking for some comfort. And so easy to mistake that for love. But it isn't, pet, and I'm not going to be left behind when you finally wake up."

Buffy looked up, disbelief written all over her wet face. "Wha-"

"I won't leave," he interrupted her. "I'll always be here for you, always. But I think you'd better go now."

Slowly, hesitantly, she backed away from him. And then left his crypt with a speed as if she was fleeing. But she had turned not fast enough for him not to see the hurt on her face. It made him want to run after her, tell her that he didn't mean what he had said, but he remained still until her figure had disappeared into the darkness of the cemetery.

Spike stood alone in the candle-lighted room. Never before, he had given up so much with so few words. Never before, he had acted so unselfishly. A relationship of that kind could only be dangerous for both of them. Demons as well as humans loathing the betrayers of their races. If only she hadn't been the Slayer, it might have worked out, but this way… couldn't put her in that much danger. He just hoped he had convinced her that she was just going through a phase.

For he had believed her every word.