A/N: Since today I unfortunately suffered much heartbreak in the not-so-wonderful world of guys, this chapter will probably sound more like chapters 1 & 2. I have also learned today that lying on the bathroom floor crying into a rug for ten minutes straight is an excellent method of brainstorming. Well, on that happy note, here's chapter 5!

¤

Buffy slowly turned around, wondering how many more unpleasant surprises she could handle in one day. She exhaled.

"Spike, what do you want?" she asked him impatiently. He jumped off the sofa, walked over to her, and took her hands.

"I'm real now. I'm what you want. I've got a soul!" Spike answered happily.

Buffy dropped her hands to her sides and took a step back. "Wait… what? You- you- what?!"

"You know. I'm no saint. It hurt, but it's back, and I'm back. I'm not okay. What else can I do?" Spike's voice began to rise, getting panicky. "I'm not like those two! I can't be your knight. I want to. Do you see me? Do you know what I did? I've been here… sitting. A long time. I fought. I was a warrior. But it was just for you. I fixed it. But I'm still not right, am I?" his eyes fell and he scraped his fingernails down his arm. "Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. No good. Not enough." He drew breath sharply as he sunk his fingernails into his own skin, blood running down to his wrist. Buffy stepped forward and grabbed his hand.

"Stop it! I get it, you got your soul back and now you're all with the crazy. But why?"

He reached out and placed his bloody fingertips on her arm, and a little glint of sanity was behind his dilated pupils. "You. I just want to be who you deserve."

Buffy was extremely taken aback. She crossed her arms, not knowing how to handle this. Finally, she took the easy way out. "Go away until this passes. Come back and talk to me when you're sane."

Spike looked hurt. He sighed loudly and shrugged. "What could I ask for? You can't, or you won't, one of the two, or maybe you will, but I'll just have to wait until you can decide which." After saying what he clearly thought was a very clever comeback, he turned and left the house. Buffy relaxed and dropped her jacket on the lamp table, turning to head upstairs. As she reached the first step, avoiding the unsightly spot of blood, she saw Dawn standing at the top of the stairs. She was tense and had a white-knuckled grip on something in her right hand, which she hastily put down. It was a stake. Buffy gave her a small smile as she walked up the stairs.

"I guess you're more like me than I thought."

¤

Oz opened the door of his van for Willow and bent down to pick her up when she shook her head.

"No, i-it's okay. I can handle it," she told him, gingerly stepping down onto the pavement. Oz knew she wanted to prove that she could take care of herself, so he let her walk, but he put his arm around her back as a brace. She took measured steps and finally reached the door after what seemed like miles. Oz opened the door for her and stepped aside as she went in first. Dawn and Buffy, who had been asleep on the sofa after an apparent all night movie-fest, sat up quickly and turned off the television. Buffy walked over to Willow as Oz closed the front door. She smiled at Willow.

"Welcome home," she said kindly, hooking arms with her best friend and leading her slowly into the living room, where Dawn was preparing her a makeshift bed. Willow grinned slightly and laid herself down on the couch, Oz watching her carefully, making sure she didn't hurt herself. He felt like it was his job to make sure that nothing happened to her. He sat down in the easy chair by the sofa, leaving his keys on the table. Buffy took in his messy appearance. "If you want, you could go upstairs and change while we keep an eye on Willow."

Oz shook his head. "It can wait." Buffy nodded, knowing he couldn't be told otherwise. She left the room, but Dawn lingered a bit.

"Hey, Oz," she said, causing him to shift his eyes from Willow's face to hers. "I just wanted to say… I'm really sorry about the way I was yesterday. I was wrong."

"It's fine," Oz nodded.

Dawn fiddled with her necklace awkwardly. "I'm glad you're back, Oz," Dawn smiled, leaving the room after Buffy. Oz continued looking in the same direction, but not at anything in particular. Everything was out of focus. It was just such a huge release knowing that Willow was home and alive. He breathed deeply. He knew that his job here wasn't nearly finished. He could tell that Willow was hurting more than he had imagined, and he knew he needed someone who could be with her all the time. But nothing pained him more than watching her and knowing that he could never have her again. He had been a moron to leave when he did. He should have known that Willow would move on, she always did. Losing her twice had been the two most agonizing experiences of his life, and as much as he loved her, he was terrified of that happening again. Besides, there was nothing he had to offer her now. His novelty had worn off. Now he was just some unemployed loner who wandered the globe in search of just one more thing that he could use to try to fill up the gaping hole in him that Willow used to occupy. He also knew that she would be much too scared to start anything with anyone, this close to losing Tara.

Oz's pondering stalled and the thought of Tara. He couldn't hate her. He couldn't bring himself to hate someone who brought Willow so much joy. But that didn't mean he didn't hate that she had taken his place. Willow was the only thing he had ever had to give him a reason to look forward to the next day. Tara had taken that away from him. He had nothing left to live for. He put his head on his arms, suddenly realizing his exhaustion. He had been up all night at Willow's bedside, just watching her. Making up for lost time. His eyes closed in spite of himself. He felt himself drifting off…

To his left there was a small rustling. He opened his eyes heavily. Willow was stirring. He groaned and stretched, then looked at the clock. It was 3:30. He had been asleep for more than four hours. He turned over and suddenly, he heard a small series of whimpers and sniffles. He got up quickly and walked over to Willow, who was weeping softly. He sat down on the floor, now at eye level with her. He put a hand behind her ear. She sniffed in response. He smiled slightly, and she sniffed again. Knowing that there was really nothing he could offer her at this point other than a comforting touch, he stood up and sat down on the sofa next to her, and she sat up. He put a hand on her leg. She began to cry a bit more loudly, covering her face with her hand. Oz had a feeling that he had had probably about twice total in his whole life: he felt like if he didn't say something soon he would burst. He looked up at Willow.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "For leaving you."

Willow looked up at him, and her expression flew through about seven different emotions before she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his chest and sobbing freely into his t-shirt. Oz gasped, mostly because she had knocked the wind out of him, but also because he had been craving this kind of closeness with her ever since he last laid eyes on her. He put his arms around her, careful not to hurt her or make her feel uncomfortable about her intentions, even thought he wasn't even sure what his intentions were at this point. He looked down and kissed her on the top of the head. She sniffed.

¤

A/N: So yes, pleae do review! It shall be much appreciated. D Oh, by the way, Gustavo says hi. That's my stuffed pink flamingo.