Disclaimer: Some of the characters in this story belong to the creator of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer (Joss Whedon). No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. Other sources will be cited at the end of each chapter. Some of the characters, the plot and all other elements of the story are mine, do not use them without permission in full or whole.

Author's Note: This fanfiction takes place in an era of Buffy that I have made up and does not follow the television show season or series timelines. Spike does have a soul in this fanfic though. I promise you the real plot will begin to show itself in time, so add this fic to your favourites and await the next chapter. Reviews are always appreciated as they help me to know whether I write only for myself.

Chapter One: The Return

By Ensorcell, August 19, 2004

The cemetery was dark and damp, it had been raining for nearly an hour and the storm had finally begun to subside. The sky was grey, the clouds heavy and slowly drifting shielded the pale glow of the nearly full moon. Spike walked between the gravestones, slowly reading each as he passed it. In all the years he had frequented this graveyard by night, he had never once read the names of those buried beneath its soil. Some headstones, he noticed, were beginning to erode others were pristine and new, small statues and various stone figures could be found marking the graves of others.

Spike turned from the tombstones and began to walk towards one of the many trees in sight. He rested his back against the thick dark trunk and looked up at the water droplets that were formed on the blanket of leaves above, watching the heavier ones fall from their perches to the ground below.

From the inside pocket of his infamous black floor length leather jacket, he pulled a cigarette and lighter. Shielding the cigarette from the rain, he lit it quickly and inhaled deeply, placing the lighter back inside his pocket. Exhaling, he watched the smoke drift into the night, it lingered in the heavy air longer than usual before fading away.

It began to rain once more, lightly at first but quickly dropping the friendly façade for a storm. Lightning struck in the distance and thunder rolled loudly overhead. Spike continued smoking, slowly inhaling and exhaling, clinging to the feeling of the smoke tingling his throat. The rain was falling heavily soaking his thick black boots and coat, he pulled up the collar and did up the coat, shoving his currently unused hand into a pocket. His black pants were a little muddy at the bottoms, but otherwise relatively dry compared to the rest of his damp body.

The leaves rustled in the violent wind, some breaking off only to be carried away in the storm. He smelled her scent on the air, blowing towards him in the crisp wind. He finished his cigarette and lit another, never rushing, before following her trail to the crypt which he had called home for nearly a week.

He watched her as she stood, noticed the black pants she wore and that they clung tightly to her skin, wet with the rain that was falling. Her hair was wet, dripping a little in places. She tucked it behind her ears as she eyed the entrance to the crypt.

Spike stood behind another tree watching her where she stood. Approaching from behind so he would not be seen, Spike moved with the stealth he used when stalking his prey. He could see that she wore a black jacket, ending just above her hips, offering adequate protection from the rain. Her hands were in her pockets as she turned to rest her back on the entrance wall, stopping Spike in his tracks. Now he could see her red low-cut top and straps where sleeves should have been, the jacket was not done up. The whole ensemble was less than fight-appropriate, Spike thought. Her eyes were closed and her head leaned back. Buffy... Spike muttered to himself, Not surprising.

Spike stepped out from where he was hidden, took a couple steps forward and spoke, "Fancy seeing you here...and dressed like that." Spike smiled weakly at the familiar young woman, cigarette still dangling from his mouth he nodded up and down, indicating her chosen outfit.

Her eyes opened and she tilted her chin upwards, towards Spike, "Yea," She straightened her back so she stood a little more upright, "Great to see you, too."

Spike took the cigarette from his mouth between his forefinger and thumb and threw it gently to the ground, not bothering to stomp it out. Spike walked the rest of the way to where she stood, arms across her chest and booted foot tapping the wet stone entrance.

"You look good." Spike told her, running a hand through his wet hair.

"Don't I always?" She retorted with heavy sarcasm and a blatantly fake smile. Spike stood with his shoulder to the stone door, he raised an arm and placed it on the wall leaning into it for support, Buffy standing all of a couple inches from him.

"Always." He confirmed, using his free arm to hook her by the waist.

"Careful Spike." She pulled open the left side of her jacket to reveal the pointed edge of a wooden stake. "Why are you here?"

"Hey, keep that thing away." Spike stepped back, "Well, I thought I'd pop back for a visit, figured you'd be missin' me an' all." Spike leaned down, moving slightly closer, "Damn, you smell better than I remembered, pet."

"You left us, Spike, remember that?"

"I didn't leave, I just took a little vacation from the madness."

"You should tell someone when you're going on vacation." Buffy placed both hands on his chest and pushed him firmly away, "God, Spike." She turned towards the crypt door, crossing both arms across her chest again.

"Aw, did the gang miss ol' Big Bad?" Spike reached out for her arm, but she shook him off. He settled for standing behind her, one hand in his pocket, the other pulled her hair from one side of her neck and placed it all on the other, "I figured it didn't matter where I went, it's not like you'd follow me to the ends of the earth." Spike gave the words a few moments to sink in before adding "Besides, I'm back now."

"Right, you're back and you didn't think to call." Buffy turned back towards him, her expression grew more annoyed by the second. She bit the inside of her cheek and pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side.

"Buffy, I had some business to take care of first." Spike sensed her annoyance and spoke softly, trying to redeem himself.

"You always have business to take care of, Spike." She quipped spitefully.

"But I'm back now." Spike pushed her hair out of her face and tilted her head upwards to his. She let her arms fall idly to her sides and then gripped his coat at waist level.

"Great, when do you leave next?" Buffy turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, but she let her chin rest on his hand.

"You missed me, just say it." Spike turned her head back to his again.

"Fuck, Spike. You can't just leave people like that..." She pushed him backwards, letting go of his coat.

Spike turned away from Buffy. Deciding it was best to let her cool off a little, he began to cross the graveyard again, lighting another cigarette as he walked.

"Jesus, slayer." Spike turned back around raising his arms and shrugging, "What the hell was I supposed to do...I couldn't very well stay here. You made it pretty damn clear that my feelings weren't reciprocated." His words sounded fierce, cigarette dangling between his lips. Spike turned and continued walking further away from the place where Buffy stood, I should've expected a welcome like that.

"Ugh," Was all Buffy could manage to grunt, a disgusted look on her face. "I could stake you right now!" She screamed, a moment later, at Spike's figure which was beginning to disappear into the night. "Fuck you, Spike!" She shouted after him. You can't just leave, then when you finally come back, leave me again.

Buffy sunk back onto the stone entrance of the tomb, her knees curled up towards her chest, head resting against the wall. Quiet and alone she sat at the entrance of that tomb, not concerned with the time, whether she risked being found, or whether there were other vampires roaming the same cemetery. She breathed slowly, inhaling and exhaling heavily, the rain soaking the edge of the step on which she sat, but the roof of the crypt protected her nicely.

Buffy closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the rain falling to the ground, hitting the stone of the graves and the blades of grass and it calmed her a little. She breathed in rhythm with the rain, slowing as it lightened and breathing more heavily as the downpour intensified.

"Sorry." Spike stood above her minutes later, both hands in his pockets, the cigarette now gone. Buffy looked up from her seat on the floor, head cocked to the side she opened her eyes but did not lift it from the pale grey wall. "I'm really sorry." Spike repeated before sinking to sit beside her. He too, leaned back and rested his body on the tomb entrance letting Buffy's head fall to rest on his shoulder.

"It's not okay, you know." Buffy whispered, head still resting on Spike's black leather clad shoulder, "It's not okay."

"I know." He whispered in response, "But I'll make it okay...it will be okay, I promise." Spike turned his head to the left and rested his chin on her blonde tresses for a moment before kissing them softly, apologizing again. "I'm so sorry."

Spike sat on the living room couch, his pale fingers running over a clean shaven cheek, a loud sigh escaped his lips. Buffy sat on an armchair across from him, knees pulled to her chest, sipping a steaming cup of tea.

They had risen from their place on the tomb entrance in the familiar graveyard and been silent as they walked the short distance back to the Summers's residence. When Buffy had unlocked the door and invited Spike inside she turned towards the living room and pointed at the couch, "I think we need to talk, take a seat Spike." He had done as she requested. When she returned from putting on a kettle she took the seat across from him, opting for a little distance.

"Where's Dawn?" Spike asked simply.

"Out. She won't be back tonight." Buffy replied, not wanting to reveal any details of their personal lives.

"Oh. I almost missed the little nibblet..."

Spike craved another cigarette, but thought it a little too rude at the moment. Now that they had made their way indoors, the smell of rain clung to their soaked bodies and lingered in the air between them. Spike had forgotten all he wanted to say. The tension in the room mounting, he made a suggestion. "How about we dry off a bit before we get into it?"

Buffy agreed, not knowing what else to do. In 10 minutes she had found some of Spike's old things in a rarely used drawer of a less frequented room in the house, and handing him an outfit she turned without saying a word. After they were both showered and changed, they met back in the living room, Buffy with a cup of tea. "Do you want something?" She asked Spike, pointing to her cup as he sat on the sofa.

"No, thanks, I'm fine."

Buffy pulled idly at a loose string on her white hooded sweatshirt, "So, Spike." She looked up at the man sitting across from her, head in hands and very obviously dreading the conversation that was to come. "Why didn't you tell us you were leaving? W-where did you go?...Why are you back?" She began, her words slurred together. Frustrated, curious and hurt, among other things, she sighed and started again. "Look, Spike, just tell me everything."

Spike cleared his throat and lifted his head from his hands, choosing instead to cross his arms across his chest. Leaning back on the couch he started, "Well, I left because of you. It's too damn hard, Buffy. I can't be around you if I can't be with you." He stopped speaking for a moment and looked directly into her misty grey-green eyes, quickly looking away.

"Anyway, I haven't been up to much. I've been around, that's all. I went back to England, then around Europe mostly, collecting on old debts. I did some catching up and all that jazz. Killed a few demons too, nothing special." He stopped to see if Buffy had any objections, but she nodded for him to continue. "Well, then I had something to deal with back here. I've only been back for a week."

"What, Spike. What did you have to deal with?" She pressed, a serious expression on her face.

"A demon back home told me to deliver a message, and I have. I can bugger off soon, if that's what you'd like. Not to worry, slayer." He gave a feeble smile in her direction, closed his eyes and leaned his head against the couch, stretching both arms across the top, he let them rest spread-eagled. Re-thinking his previous comment, Spike retracted it, "No, I won't leave again. I'm done running away, Buffy."

"What do you want from me?" The words were harsh and cut the tense air between the two. It seemed to him as if there was no love lost , though Buffy knew that was not the case.

"I don't want anything, love. I just want to stay here, be around, you know?"

"Right."

The two sat in silence for a while, neither knowing what should come next in their dialogue. Buffy rose from her seat on the couch, placing her mug on the coffee table in front of her she walked into the kitchen. She rested her head on the side of a cabinet, on the verge of tears. There was so much she needed to tell him. There was so much she needed to say, or yell, anything to communicate to him the feelings he had instilled in her. Should she tell him of the nights she cried, of the time she spent wondering whether he was still "alive"?

Buffy returned to the living room feeling as though being left alone with her thoughts was worse than being with Spike, for the moment.

"What's wrong, love?" He asked her, eyes wide.

"So much."

"Tell me..."

"I can't."

"Is it me?"

"Yes."

"Can I fix it?"

"It's too late."

"Bloody hell!" Spike exhaled, he stood up from his place on the couch and walked over to the chair in which she sat. Dropping to one knee he took her hand, "Look, Buffy, I know I've been stupid but it's too late to change that. The truth is it hurt- being rejected by you. I don't think I've felt that much pain since I was alive. You made me feel weak and I hated that. It was easier to hate you. I know how to hate so well, it's instinct...and then when I realised I didn't hate you, it just turned things upside down. I had to get away- understand? I just couldn't stay here and fight the good battle anymore." Spike looked up at Buffy for a sign of forgiveness in her eyes. Understanding, pity, even anger, he would take any of them over the blank expression on her face and the ice cold glare in her eyes. "You weren't even supposed to know I was back yet. You're the one who came lookin' for me, remember?"

"Screw you, Spike!" She screamed, pulling her hand from his. "Don't try to turn this around on me. I didn't leave you. I was here, I worried about you, pretended everything was okay. I have a job to do, and Dawn to take care of. I can't just up and leave whenever I want to. You made me feel like a fool, and after I defended you to everyone so many times!" She rose from her chair and stormed up the stairs, stopping halfway. "They were right, Spike. More than I ever knew."

Spike heard a door slam and hushed scream moments later. Sighing, he shifted his weight from his knees and sat back, leaning his head on the cushion of the chair where Buffy had sat moments before. What the bloody hell just happened?

Deciding that he had done enough damage, Spike picked up his coat from where it lay on the couch and walked over to the stairs, silently looking up to where they led he let a soft sigh escape him. He walked over to the front door, opening it enough to slip though he stepped across the threshold into the dark night beyond.