He was looking at her the way he did the night she came back, when the awe and wonder in his stunned blue eyes had been the first thing to break through the horror and touch her. Then, in that moment, she'd seen his heart. She'd looked away – lost and confused, afraid of the love that shone in his eyes when she had the taste of the grave in her throat and no right… no right… to be loved like that. Now she searched for it, for a glimmer of what used to be. She was still lost, still confused, buried by her memories – afraid the love would no longer shine for her and no right… no right… to hope.

Ah, Spike, where have you been? What happened to you? The slient words ached in her throat, and the small child at the core of her being cried – Why did you leave me?

He looked the same - the same wonderful eyes, a gleam of cerulean in the night-greyed landscape, the same knife-sharp cheekbones, the same softly parted lips – her dream-phantom made flesh. "Spike?" Her voice was a breathless whisper on the night air.

"Buffy," he said softly, his eyes fixed on hers.

She looked at him a moment longer in silence. "Andrew…" her voice tailed away, unsure and hesitant.

"Figured." A half smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She gave a small nod. No words – no words for this. All the speeches, all the things she wanted to say, the things she had practised in her head, all the "sorry"s, all the "missed you"s, all the "I love you… ah, God, Spike I love you"s… they weren't enough. She was so scared that the wrong word would break the moment and lose any slim chance she had to make it right; because more than anything in the world she wanted to make it right between them. But suddenly she hadn't the first idea how – or even what "right" was. So she stood there, with a thousand words and emotions churning uselessly in her mind, and waited for him to save her.

xxxxxx

She was looking at him as if one wrong move from her would send him scattered away on the wind. So pale in the moonlight, she stood with one hand pressed to her throat, eyes huge and luminous and fixed on his, a ghost of his memories. He had never seen her look so open, so vulnerable, so fragile – so human.

Ah, love – is this what a normal life has done to you? What happened to you?

"I didn't expect…" he stopped, unwilling to trust his voice.

"No. No… me neither." Still little more than a whisper.

He hadn't the words. The reality of her was so much harder to bear than the dreams of her had been. All the practised arguments, all the whys and wherefores he'd beaten out in long, dark, lonely nights with only a bottle for company now fled his mind, to be replaced by a longing he couldn't let himself acknowledge. He knew what he had to do. He knew what was right – but that didn't stop it hurting. So he stood in silence, drowning in the sight of her, with the cold hard certainty of what he had to do a bitter ache in his heart. He stood and waited for the strength to do it.

xxxxxx

In the silence of the silver moonlight, she held out her hand, reaching down to him over the crater's edge. As he took her hand, the intensity of the feelings that the touch of him brought took her breath away. The world shifted beneath her feet and she was half surprised not to see flames licking around their entwined fingers. She pulled him up, brought him to stand next to her, and for a moment they stood, hands and eyes locked. Then he dropped her hand, and the sudden loss of him almost made her cry aloud. Every fibre of her body ached to touch him, but as her hand reached towards him again he dropped his eyes and half turned away, gazing back out over the crater. Buffy froze, confused and unsure. She watched the play of muscles in his averted face, the tightening of his jaw line. She couldn't read his mood and she felt unnerved. It struck her how, at the start, she'd always thought it easy to read him. She knew better now. She'd thought it easy because she'd never really tried to see beneath the surface, never cared enough to look properly. This Spike, this being with the subtle multilayers and nuances of emotion behind the brash shield he presented to the world – had he always been here? Why had it taken her so long to see it?

He drew a deep breath, let it out on a long sigh. "So, this is all that's left of Sunnyhell?"

She followed the line of his gaze, outwards over the shattered boulders and debris. "All there is. All down there." All those shops, all gone. The Gap, Starbucks, Toys "R" Us… she winced at the memory. "The school, my house, your place… although I guess that was bordering on the condemned anyways."

"Hey!" He turned with a mock frown. "Have you know I was very proud of my crypt! Had it all real homey like."

She smiled at him. "It was… cosy. For a crypt and all." They smiled at each other, shared memories.

He looked away again, nodded at the crater. "Who didn't make it?"

She sighed, hugged herself against the memory. She knew the names of her fallen – or she did now. It had hurt her so badly at the role call after the Hellmouth to have to rely on Giles to tell her their names, some of them – God, they'd died at her command and she hadn't known them. She named them now for Spike, watched the spark of recognition for each, saw clearly that he'd known their names – known each one of them – in his short comments, a few words for each, and sadness for them. "And… and Anya, of course." she ended.

"Anya?" He sounded shocked. "Anya didn't make it?" She shook her head, watched the pain build in him for the lost ex-demon. "They didn't tell me."

"She got caught in the thick of it. A Bringer… Anya saved Andrew's life." She swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat. Which is more than I could do for any of the ones who fell… for you.

He turned away again, but not before she saw the glint of tears in his eyes. "She deserved better," he said softly.

"They all deserved better. You…" she hesitated and he turned to look at her. "Could I have made it different?" The words poured from her suddenly, the fears that kept her awake at night and tortured her sleep. "I keep going back over it…you know…could I have done anything. Was there something I should have said? Something I didn't do that would have stopped it… that would have saved you…I keep thinking…" her voice trailed away. Every night I save you.

He frowned slightly. "Saved me?"

"You didn't have to… you shouldn't have had to…"

"What? Die? Already dead, love, remember?"

"Go…" she whispered. Leave me, she cried inside.

For a moment they stood in silence. "Buffy, it wasn't yours to decide. It wasn't yours to do anything differently, or change the way it happened." He was looking at her earnestly. "At the end, it wasn't down to you. It was my choice." He smiled. "End of the day, we all did what we had to. You, too."

She shivered against the memories and the cool night air. He frowned. "You're cold. Wanna go sit in the car?" They turned their backs on the crater and went to where the Viper sat waiting.

xxxxxx

The car smelt of Spike – leather and cigarettes and the underlying hint of something bittersweet and darkly addictive. They sat next to each other in silence, shared an awkward smile, each afraid to meet the others eyes.

"Why Rome?" Spike asked eventually.

"Because..." she paused. Because London hurt. Because on almost every street corner there was a voice or a gesture or a word that reminded me of you and that you were gone and that you would never show me London like you said you would. Because Paris was for lovers, and I couldn't have mine. Because Rome was the first place with no reminders and the first place I could pretend. "Because I always wanted a Prada handbag," she said as lightly as she could, not meeting his eyes. "And there were other attractions."

"Yeah?"

"Well, you know – Italian men. All big brown eyes, snake hips and Latin passions."

"Is that right?" He looked away with a frown and she felt the quick joy of hope at the hint of jealousy in his voice. "Yeah, well. Don't fall for the snake hips. Few years of Mama's pasta and he'll be a built like an Italian shit house like the rest of 'em." He stared out of the window with studied nonchelance. "So – there's someone special maybe? Back in Rome?"

"No. Yes. Kind of." She shrugged. "Not special."

His jaw clenched then he turned to her with a smile. "I'm happy for you, pet. Really. Glad it's working out."

"Yeah. It's…" And because she couldn't lie to him, she looked away and said instead "Why did you come here?"

"Not sure. I'd never seen it – what was left." He stared ahead at the crater. "Quite something, huh? One hell of a party."

"Well, if the measure of a good party is the mess left behind, I guess it couldn't have been better." She tried a light laugh, winced as the other meaning in her words hit her. The mess you left behind… "Why didn't you let me know you were back?" Trying hard to keep her voice level, subdue the whining child of her heart.

He looked away, considering his words, then sighed, set his jaw and turned to her. "Buffy, I know you and me - it's never going to work out. You've got your new life. You've got the chance to be normal, have fat grandkids with some… safe, normal bloke. It's what you always wanted, right? It's what you deserve." He gestured out over the crater. "It's what that was about, part of it. And I'm not going to be part of anyone's normal life. It's not for me, love, is it? Not hardly normal." He turned back to her and his smile was gentle. "I'm glad that it was all worth it. Glad you got what you wanted. Oh, and that we saved the world and all, naturally." A half smile and shrug that tore at her heart.

She felt a cold sickness settle in her stomach, a flutter of panic in her throat. He did so much… so much… how could she belittle it by telling him she had been wrong?

They sat in silence, lost in memories, lost in the moment. "What now?" She asked eventually, her voice little more than a whisper.

"Oh, I dunno. Thought about doing a bit of travelling." He stroked the steering wheel. "Got me some wheels. Don't suppose Angel will come after me. But…" he sighed "Getting tired of moving on."

"You won't go back to LA?" You won't stay with me?

"No." He stared off into the distance for a moment. "No, I don't think so. Angel and me don't exactly see eye to eye." He glanced over at her. "On a lot of things." He looked away again. "Been doing a lot of thinking lately. Got an idea of what'll be the right thing to do." He turned back to her with a smile so calm and peaceful that her heart froze in her chest. He doesn't need me. The thought struck her like a thunderbolt. He's… whole… he doesn't need me anymore. And through the mind-numbing hurt all she could think was Oh, but I need you!

And she had no right to ask him. She had no right to expect. After all she did to him, after all he did for her, she had no claim on him.

"Will you… will I see you again?"

"I dunno, love." He winced. "Maybe. Bad penny and all."

"Oh." She looked down at her hands. "Maybe you could come to Rome. You know, meet up with the gang again. Dawn would love to see you."

"This'll be the Dawn who threatened to torch me in my bed, right?" Spike raised an eyebrow.

"That's the one." She smiled briefly. "You should see her. All grown up."

"Yeah, I'll bet she is." His voice was affectionate. "I miss the Bit."

"She did real well at school, you know? And she has wicked language skills. Giles says she'll be a real bonus to the new Council and she…" Buffy paused. Is this what it's going to be? Discussing friends and family? She gave a small shake of her head. "It would be good to see you."

"Yeah. Maybe." He held her gaze a moment longer, his eyes unreadable, then looked up at the sky. "Not so many hours until dawn. I'd best get goin'."

"Oh! You'll need to find somewhere to hide up. There's a motel a way back, we could…"

He shook his head. "No need." He tapped his knuckles against the car windscreen. "Fancy necro-tempered glass, so no problem with the big pile of dust. Nothing but the best for the Evil Empire."

"Oh. Right." She looked down at her hands again to hide the bewilderment in her eyes. "I guess I…"

"Will you go straight back to LA?" His voice was tight, controlled.

"Yes. I guess." Nothing to stay for. "I might as well go straight…" Straight where? Home? Where was home? "Dawn will be wondering what I'm up to."

"Say hello to her for me. Tell her…" he stopped and shrugged. "Hi."

She looked up at him, but he'd turned away, was fumbling with keys in the car's ignition, eyes averted. "I will," she said quietly.

He drew a deep breath he didn't need and turned back to her. "Buffy…" She held his eyes, willed him to say 'stay'; but he gave a wry smile and shook his head. "It was... good… seeing you. And I'm glad it's working out. It's all for the best, yeah?" She nodded, despair taking all words. He reached up to touch her face and she flinched, afraid of what his touch might unleash in her. His hand dropped.

And suddenly she could bear it no longer. "Goodbye, Spike." She reached over and kissed him, quickly, lightly on his soft lips, turned away and climbed out of the Viper.

She walked slowly over to the rental car, the urge to turn back and run to him like a physical force tying her to the Viper. As she walked she found herself hoping, so fiercely it hurt, for just one move from him, one small gesture, one indication that he did – maybe - want her to stay. But as she slid behind the wheel, she heard the throaty roar of the Viper's engine start up and the sound of its tyres on the stone-littered surface of the road. He stopped the car level with hers, and their eyes met and held. Despite the wrenching, burning ache in her chest, Buffy smiled, because he deserved this – he deserved for her to smile for him, to wish him well without her, to tell him she was fine – to set him free. He watched her solemnly, then nodded and turned away. She watched as the car picked up speed and disappeared into the dawn half-light. Then she leant her head against the steering wheel and let the fire of her pain consume her.

xxxxxx

She didn't see him stop the car a few miles down the road. She didn't see him sit stone-still, jaw clenched, staring ahead at nothing. He didn't want her to see. He wanted her to be free, because that's what she deserved and that's what he was bloody well going to give her, because he might be stupid, but he wasn't so stupid to believe there was any other way – not any more. So she didn't see him throw back his head, eyes clenched shut at the pain of it all. And she didn't see his tears.