Spike tugged on her hand and brought her closer, brushing a kiss against her brow and sliding an arm around her waist. She leaned into him and closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath.

That's when he smelled the tears.

He gently pushed her away, grasping her at arm's length by the shoulders and watched as tears came from under her closed eyelids. He cupped her cheek and waited until she opened her eyes.

'Buffy,' he breathed, 'love, what's wrong?'

"This is the first--" She hiccuped, her stray tears turning into gut-wrenching sobs. "This is the first time I've really talked to anybody s-since this…" She sucked in a mouthful of air as she began to cry harder.

Spike held her to him, holding her tightly and rocking her, his fingers carding through her soft hair. She stayed in his embrace until her sobs subsided, and when she pulled away to look into his face, he leaned back to grab a packet of tissues from his bedside table. The vampire handed her one, his arm taking its position back around her again as she blew her nose.

She sniffled, raising her chin. "Do I have any boogers?"

Spike chuckled, kissing her forehead before pulling away to look at her. 'Yes, but rest assured, they're as cute as you are.'

Buffy pouted and blew her nose again. "I-I just felt so alone…" She took in a breath as he squeezed her lightly to him, a silent encouragement for her to go on. "It's amazing what you can take for granted. I couldn't hear the phone, or the alarm clock, and I'd just started a day job at a bookstore and I can't even do something as simple as helping out a customer. A-And then when it's time for training with the Slayers, you know how it always was back in Sunnydale… I'd give the pep talk and be the strong, Slayerly model type, but they've found it hard to talk to me because of all the obstacles that hadn't been there before. Like having to come and tap me on the shoulder just to get my attention, or having to write whatever they had to say on that dumb whiteboard, or having them make some silly mistake like call my cell phone when it's obvious that I can't answer them."

Spike kissed her forehead again. Buffy closed her eyes and relished the feel of his lips against her skin, a few fugitive tears slipping past her puffy eyelids.

She opened her eyes and looked up into his face again. "I think Dawn has found some advantages in it, even though she'd never admit it," she said wryly. "Granted, it's not something as bad as sneaking out of the house when I would never know. Just things like putting the radio on blast when I'm driving her to school." She closed her eyes again, the space between her brows crinkling. "I just feel so… disconnected."

Spike cupped her cheek again, smiling at her when she opened her eyes. 'But it ain't permanent, innit? That's what the apothecary lady said.'

She shook her head. "It isn't, but… That's not what I knew two weeks ago. Two weeks ago, I felt like it was the end of everything I've ever known. Spike, I didn't even really have a… a language, it felt like. I mean, I had my whiteboard and my emails from Giles and Willow and the text messages from Dawn and the girls, but… those are all mediums, you know what I mean? Nothing was direct." Her voice grew small as her eyes clouded with tears again. "Nothing was… intimate. Personal." Her eyes locked on his again. "Not even… Not even this, with the lip reading. I can't hear anyone… I can't hear you. I couldn't hear the flight attendant when she was asking me what drink I wanted to order, and then when she found out I was deaf, she… She changed-- I mean… She was nicer, but not the kind of…" Her face screwed up as she began to cry harder. "Kid gloves," she murmured, sounding pained.

'Buffy…' Spike said, cupping her cheek to draw her attention again. 'Buffy, love, you're the strongest woman I know. And I know that all of this hurts, but now you know it isn't permanent anymore. And even if it was, I know you'd adjust. You've adjusted to far… far more unappealing things, situations. And I know it's utterly destroying you that you can't hear my sexy voice, but give it time, love.'

Buffy giggled. "Truth be told, it is kind of eating me up that I can't hear your sexy voice."

The leer on his face softened into a gentle smile. 'Buffy, I…' He swallowed hard, the look on his face suddenly tense. 'I love you.'

She gave him a teasing smile. "What's that about olive juice?"

He let out a half-annoyed, half-amused snarl.

She touched his face, her eyes locked on his. She'd never noticed how intimate eye contact was before. "Spike, I love you, too," she whispered.

--

"Buffy's here?" Angel demanded, his voice terse on the line.

"Yes. She's been here for a couple of hours. Lorne found her at Caritas asking for one of his bartenders. The girl with the blue hair, do you remember her?" Wesley said. "She makes fantastic White Russians. Anyway, it appears she is a Wiccan apothecary with the skills necessary to amplify Buffy's healing abilities."

"Wes, it's vodka and cream," the vampire growled impatiently. "Is she hurt? Never mind, I'll see for myself. Wait, did she leave? You'd better not have let her take a taxi."

"Angel, calm down. Buffy's a little shaken, as expected, but she's fine. Spike took her to the hotel. They've been here for the past hour or so. There's no cause for alarm."

"Check on her, please. I know just how stifling Spike can be."

"Angel, I'm pretty sure that you'd be just as stifling if you were here," Wesley said, rubbing his forehead in irritation. "Finish up at Wolfram & Hart. She isn't going anywhere for a while, and if she is, you could always make time to speak with her. She's staying with her father."

The vampire sighed. "Alright," he conceded. "But… check on her, please. And offer her a room, if she feels like staying."

"I'll do that," Wesley said. He sighed when the line on the other end disconnected.

He hung up the phone and made his way out of the office and up the stairs to the third floor, walking leisurely towards the left wing. He gently knocked on Spike's door, awaiting an invitation.

"Come in," Spike's low voice uttered from behind the door.

Wesley did, and was greeted with the sight of a sleeping Buffy tucked snugly into Spike's side, crocodile tears on her cheeks. "How is she doing?" he said softly.

"Not too good," Spike murmured. "But better than what she was before." He raised his eyebrows. "I suspect you've told the poofter?"

"Yes, I did tell the--" Wesley shook his head wearily. "I've notified Angel. He told me to ask her if she wanted a room here, if she wanted."

Spike gave a sober nod. "I'll ask her when she wakes up."

Wesley nodded, making his way back to the door.

"Wes."

He stopped. "Yes?"

"Can you order some take away or something? I'm not sure when the last time she's eaten."

Wesley nodded. "Sure." He paused. "Hot and sour soup for you?"

The corner of Spike's mouth lifted into a small smile. "Yeah. Thanks, mate."