Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! You guys are great! Only a couple more chapters to go until this first fic is done. I think I might make a sequel to it once Buffy and Spike come to some... resolution. :) Until then, though, enjoy your second-to-last chapter!

Like a Man Possessed

Chapter 4

The second the last ray of sunlight passed beneath the horizon, the door flew open, practically ripped off its hinges, and Spike emerged from the crypt. For a second, Buffy thought she saw anger in his eyes, but it melted away into a gaze of trepidation. She stared for a moment but quickly looked away. "How long have you known I was here?"

"About an hour," he replied gravely. He could see even in the darkness the shadows beneath her eyes; seeing her from a distance or through her window was one thing, but truly being with her was a shock that he hadn't quite expected. The physical toll taken on her in the past month was greater than he had realized, and he was amazed that she hadn't been assailed by a demon yet—even with her diminished health, her strength still remained.

As they stood in silence, Spike's mind continued onto a different subject—the powerful influence Buffy had on who he was. Before he met her, he had no qualms about killing; it was, to him, a source of entertainment and just another part of who he was. But after seeing for himself just who the woman behind the Slayer was, he could become rendered helpless by one look into her eyes. Smirking slightly, he remembered an all too true statement he'd made about himself. I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it.

Buffy's mind was going roughly the same speed as Spike's. She was the Chosen One, the Slayer, and here she was sitting in a graveyard with a vampire—a vampire she'd neglected to kill on several occasions and who happened to be madly in love with her. Why she hadn't finished him before the Initiative had defanged him was beyond her. An unexpected realization came to her at that thought, though—she was glad that she hadn't killed him. The Slayer, relieved by her own failure? Buffy squeezed her eyes shut tightly but couldn't block the unsettling knowledge from her mind.

Unexpectedly, she turned to face the vampire beside her. Their eyes locked again, and both of their minds abruptly cleared. Brought back to why she was here, Buffy took a deep breath and spoke. "Dawn… She should be the one here, not me." It was the truth—she had been willing to give her life for Dawn, and if she had done so, she would have wanted her sister to be right here with Spike.

"I'm sorry," Spike responded without taking his eyes off hers, and Buffy knew that he wasn't just saying so out of civility—the shame and guilt in his gaze flooded her with compassion.

"You shouldn't be," she answered honestly, looking away again and beginning to walk slowly down the familiar path she'd traveled for five years; Spike, as always, followed her. It almost seemed as if they were bound by their grief, connected so that they needed the other to heal—they weren't about to go their separate ways, not just yet. The two didn't speak for a minute or so, both reassured by their companion's presence.

It was an unusually still night. There was always something "horror movie-esque" going on, but the pair had yet to encounter anything at all supernatural. It was almost as if they were walking through a normal graveyard in a normal city. Of course, Sunnydale's cemeteries weren't exactly like the movies'—Buffy had never found herself surrounded in swirling mist, and there were more palm trees than weeping willows. Still, the conspicuously missing demonic activity was yet another strange part of the night.

Spike lit a cigarette and began puffing at it, subconsciously craving something to occupy him during the silence they shared. He'd hoped that smoking would calm his nerves, but the act was not having the desired effect. Impatiently, he threw the cigarette to the ground and looked down as he put it out; when he looked up, they were standing in front of Dawn's grave.

A part of him knew that they were heading there, but it was still a shock to see it so suddenly. He had visited it before, after the others had left the funeral and on a few other occasions, but he had been wary that he would have an uncomfortable encounter with the Scooby gang and hadn't gone as often as he wanted.

Buffy had only been once, during the funeral. The pain she felt was a constant ache, but being at her sister's grave turned it into something more… real. There was still a part of her that didn't want to accept Dawn's death. The others had before it even happened, and she almost felt as if she would be repeating their betrayal by acknowledging it as well. Only now, standing there with her sister's last protector, did she feel strong enough to face her grief.

Spike could tell that Buffy was quickly losing her composure—she had twisted away when he tried to look at her face. The slight glimpse he caught looked as if she was holding back a sob.

The Slayer suddenly sat on the ground in front of but facing away from him. As he stared at the broken woman, he noticed tiny flowers growing from the grass beneath them. Spike kneeled down and took his gaze from Buffy for a moment; he caressed the golden velvet petals of one blossom for a second, then pulled it from the ground.

His chip activated and the vampire flinched, but did not cry out—the pain was far less from picking a flower than, say, attempting to bite a human. Soddin' Initiative, he thought mutinously, proceeding to gather more of the blossoms growing from Dawn's grave. Spike used to pick flowers for his mother all the time—her face would light up magically when he brought her a colorful bouquet.

The chip didn't just repress the demon within him; it took away simple things that the man he used to be had loved. William had died once, but was being completely destroyed by forces unbeknownst to him.

Reaching forward, Spike tucked a flower behind Buffy's ear; she turned automatically and he was struck with how beautiful she looked with the blossom accenting her wavy tresses. "My Goldilocks," he murmured to himself, lifting a tendril of her hair, then looking down at the flowers he held and suddenly becoming embarrassed.

Buffy was amazed—she never would have taken Spike to be the "giving-a-girl-flowers" type; she was surprised with herself, too, since she had long considered the ritual to be tired and gaudy. Here she found herself, though, practically melting inside at the gesture.

Turning to face him, she reached forward and took his hand in her own. His eyes flickered to hers, fear clearly evident in his gaze. "Buffy," he said softly. Suddenly, he stood, turning from her for a moment before whirling to look down upon her.

"You need to hold on, Buffy." His voice wavered as he spoke, the words obviously difficult for him to say.

"What?"

Spike began pacing, nervously running his fingers through his bleached locks. "I see you everyday, slipping further and further into the darkness. Don't you see, Slayer?" His voice had gained strength as he spoke, and was full of intensity as he concluded by uttering, "You belong in the light."

His words were unexpected, but Buffy quickly responded. "I think I see more than you do, Spike. I see that the darkness is already inside of me." A pause. "Can you still love me if I'm dead inside?"

He didn't hesitate before answering, "As much as a dead man can." Kneeling down before Buffy, he looked to her hooded eyes, unafraid of what unspoken feelings he might see there. Her anger, sadness, and guilt did not scare him as they did the others. He loved every part of her, the good and the bad, and he would do everything in his power to show her that.

"Look at me," Spike said softly, his eyes locked on her face until she finally met them, fear and despair evident in her own gaze. "Slayer, I love you. More than anything on this bleedin' earth." A sad smile slowly formed on his face as he brushed away a tear from her cheek. "Even though I've got no soul, no life inside of me, you make me feel alive again." He leaned forward, tilting the silently weeping girl's face up to meet his as he hesitantly gave her a chaste kiss on the lips.