Spike was afraid to say anything that might break the moment. He could sit there and just watch her all night. He was sure of that. She handed him back the guitar and he leaned it against the wall without taking his eyes off of her. She reached her hand out to take back her glass from him and felt her heart start thudding heavily again as their fingers brushed. She could feel his eyes following her every move as she raised the glass to her lips and sipped a bit of brandy.

Buffy wasn't sure just what it was that was making her feel so warm from the inside out... was it the brandy? Or was it the way Spike was watching her so intently? Nobody had ever looked at her the way that he was. It made her insides quake with nervous anticipation. He was looking at her like he wanted to kiss her. No... like he wanted to devour her. There was an unmistakable hunger in his eyes and it burned through her to her very core.

She turned to look out the window. The wind had picked up quite a bit and it had stirred the pounding sluice of rain into a frenzy. Molly hadn't been kidding when she warned them about the storm. This was the mother of them all. The thunder rolled in a steady roar that made Buffy shudder. She thought back to something she'd learned in science... on-coming tornadoes sound like freight trains. Did that sound like a freight train? She didn't even want to think about it. It hardly ever rained in California, but when it did, it was as if the sky opened up and threatened to swallow the earth whole.

The thunder crashed mercilessly followed by a bright crackle of lightning and the power went out. Spike's clock-radio no longer flashed red at them. It went dark. The light that had been eminating from the living room had snapped off and all that was keeping them from total darkness was the candles Spike had lit when he brought her into his room.

She felt her skin prickle with nervous energy as she turned back to look at him. His eyes were stormy with desire and she couldn't help but visibly quiver.

"You okay, Kitten?" he asked, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't form any words. She nodded and darted her eyes back down to the glass in her hands. She felt drunk, but knew it had nothing to do with the liqueur she had been sipping. The powerful storm was dizzying, but the combination of love and lust in Spike's eyes was her undoing.

He reached out to pull her to him.

"Come here, Pet." His voice was deliciously silky.

She moved into his embrace, her back against his chest. He ran his hands down her arms, instantly producing a series of goosebumps.

"Getting a little chilly, Love?" he asked.

She shook her head to let him know she wasn't. No. Her skin's reaction wasn't from the chill the air conditioner had left in the room. It was from the soft caress of his roughened hands as they swept over her bare arms and shoulders.

"My Mum used to be terrified of storms," he told her, guessing that she was a little more afraid than she was letting on. "Da would sit for hours with her... reading her poetry, rubbing her back... just quietly comforting her. I don't know what fascinated me more... the force of nature going on outside the house, or the force of nature within. He'd soothe her with his words, his voice and his touch."

Buffy realized that Spike never really talked about his mother. She knew that Anne had died when he was only 5 years old. She hadn't suffered. She'd been ripped from his world just as quickly as he'd been thrust into hers. Her death was swift and unexpected; a trip to Sarlat to see her sister, a ride through the French countryside, an unforeseen obstacle of the bovine persuasion in the roadway... and her young life ended as the driver swerved to avoid the beast and toppled them into a ravine along the side of the road.

Rupert had been devastated. He had no idea how to raise his young son alone. He was plagued by the constant memories of Anne wherever he turned. The drive down James Watt Queensway into Edgbaston to University would often result in a meltdown by the time he made it to the car park. A business trip that led him to Snow Hill Station would leave him shaking with grief in his train compartment nearly all the way to his final destination. A picnic with William in Lickey Park that had started out as a quiet father-son play date could be destroyed easily by a blonde Geordie and her companion clicking away in their pronounced accents so much like Anne's.

Rupert could no longer take the haunting memories and decided to leave the Mother Country behind for the States. All young William had wanted was to see his father smile again. And after years of living as bachelors, Rupert had met and eventually married Honey Chase, a divorcee and aspiring actress, and moved the combined family into their new home nestled in the center of the Sunnydale hub.

Buffy relaxed into Spike's arms even more. He made her feel safe. It was very clear that he cared about what she thought and how she was feeling. Little things he'd said throughout the day had made her question and then second-guess his intentions. Did she have a boyfriend? Would she be heartbroken if he drowned?

"Storm's really picking up," he murmured, his chin resting on her shoulder. She could feel his breath tickling her ear as she continued sipping at her drink. "It is pretty to watch, though. Don't you think, Kitten?"

She nodded again. She was positive that if she tried to say anything, nothing more than a croak would come out. All she wanted was to get lost in the dulcet tones of his voice and the warmth of his body as it pressed against hers.

"Still want to play your little truth game?" he asked her playfully.

She nodded again.

"Ask me why I still come home, Buffy," he told her, his voice soft and low. He stilled his hands on her arms and waited for her to rise to the challenge.

She took another sip of her brandy and closed her eyes.

"Why..." She barely recognized her own voice. It was raspy, barely a whisper. "Why do you still come home, Will?" she asked, praying that the answer was what she thought it was.

He dropped a soft kiss on her shoulder and nuzzled her neck with his nose before answering.

"You," he whispered into her ear. "I come home only for you."

She shivered as he nibbled on her earlobe and set her glass on the sill of the bay window. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. She was nobody.

"No," she tried to protest. "No you don't, but thanks for saying it."

He had to be lying. He had to be saying it to be nice. She was nobody... nothing. He was... everything. He was all she could think about since she first laid eyes on him. He was what she could never have. He was like the holy grail -- beautiful, effulgent and always just slightly out of reach.

He pulled her into his lap and made her look at him.

"Summers, I'm drowning in you," he admitted. "I don't know when it started or how it began... all I know is that you're in my bones, always buzzing just below the surface of my skin. You're in every song I hear... in every face I see. You get me... the way that nobody else can."

Her eyes were wide with a mixture of adoration and fear. She was scared to death of what he was telling her. It was everything she had ever wanted yet, at the same time, it made her want to run. If she laid herself open to him, wouldn't he leave? That's what they did, right? When she gave her heart to someone, they said 'aw, that's nice' and then they left. Her father had done it. Her so-called friends were doing it all the time. Her mother had made it clear that she had no use for her either. Why should he be any different?

"I don't expect you to feel the same way, but..." He sucked in a sharp intake of breath and took her hand in his. "I need you to know how I feel, Kitten. Since I was a little boy... since Mum died... my life has been nothing but chaos. Da pulling into himself and then forcing this new family on me... standing by and watching his loneliness become his mistress... knowing that every time he left the house, Honey was on the phone with the next prospect... seeing Queen C go from a slightly spoilt little girl to a selfish, cold-hearted woman. The only constant in my life has been you. Your strength. Your kindness. Your will and determination."

She looked down at their joined hands and moved her thumb in slow, circles over the smooth skin between his thumb and finger. Why was he saying all of these wonderful things to her? Why was he making her feel safe and wanted and... loved?

"Kitten, look at me, please," he pleaded.

She looked back up into his eyes. Please, Will... don't be lying to me. Don't be saying these things to me and not mean them, she thought. She searched his face for any sign that what he was saying wasn't true. Oh, God... he's telling me the truth, she panicked.

"You're everything to me, Buffy," he swore to her, tears shining in his eyes. "You raise me up, Love. You give me a reason to succeed... a reason to be. You're the one. Answer me this... why do you still come here? And don't tell me because Cordy still asks."

It's now or never. Do or die. If he wasn't looking at her the way that he was... she would have lied to avoid getting her heart ripped out. Nobody had ever looked at her like that. Ever. Spike's eyes were truly the windows to his soul. And to his heart. He loved her. The black of his pupils screamed it. The blue of his irises echoed it. His unwavering gaze confirmed it. The declaration was silent and sincere.

"Because I love you," she whispered, surprising herself by her own admission. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. She'd only meant to tell him that she still came to Cordy's because of him, but her heart governed her mind and voiced its own affirmation.

He watched as her eyes turned wide and frightened, clearly surprised by her own words. They'd slipped out naturally, truthfully. He felt the tears warming his cheeks at her simple statement. She loved him.

"Oh... God," she stammered. "I didn't... I--"

"Don't you dare take it back," he told her. "Don't you dare! It would kill me."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him so that he could bury his face in her neck. She smelled sweet and innocent. The cherry-vanilla fragrance radiated from her rapid pulse.

"Love you so much, Kitten," he practically whimpered.

Her hands moved to stroke his hair. She had always admired his passion and his heart. If anything, Spike had too much heart. He was expressive and full of untapped benificence. He had been holding it all in for her. No one else had ever had his heart. No one else had ever seen his soul.

She felt her own tears sliding down her cheeks and sniffed them back.

"I love you, too, Will. I do. So much," she cried.

He pulled back to look at her beautiful face. So much passion. He didn't even think she was aware of just how much passion she had. He leaned in slowly, stroking the tears from her cheek, and captured her lips in his. He sipped gently at her bottom lip until she let out a soft moan. When her lips parted, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and sought out hers.

Buffy's head was spinning. She had never been this close to a man. She had never had a boyfriend. Had never wanted anyone but Spike. She wasn't even sure if she was kissing him properly. He seemed to sense her apprehension as he reluctantly pulled back with smiling eyes.

"We still telling the truth, Kitten?" he asked with a bit of confusion in his voice.

"Always," she told him, vaguely aware of what he was going to ask her.

"Am I... have you..."

"Yes. And no," she finished for him. "You're the only one, Will. Only you."

He felt a peckish pride in his chest at knowing that she was only his.

"You're all I've ever wanted. And I refused to settle for anything less," she told him nervously.

"You're mine?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side.

"Yours," she promised. "Always."