Standing Ground
By: Ella Blue

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Whedonverse (boy, that hurts to say)

Pairing: Buffy/Spike

Rating: K+

Set sometime after 'As You Were' season 6.

Was re-watching season 6 last night and this popped into my noggin.

She stood outside the crypt, shivering in cold moonlight. Her hand was curled up into a fist, inches away from the door. Just one knock was all it would take. Just one knock and he'd be there, waiting, welcoming, wanting. She shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold. Buffy stared at the door for a full minute before sighing resolutely and dropping her hand. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. Not after the speech she'd made just days before. It had all seemed so clear then. Seeing herself through Riley's eyes had made her realise that the person she was with Spike, however simpler it was to pretend, was not the person she wanted to be. So why wasn't this easier? Why couldn't she just walk away and be done with it, with him? If her ex-beau's reaction was anything to go by, then she didn't even want to imagine how her friends would take it. She wasn't sure it she could handle the 'we're not angry just disappointed speech' or may be they would be angry. She couldn't tell them, they just wouldn't understand. God, she wasn't even sure if she understood. What would she say anyway? "So, guys, you remember Spike, right? The vamp who not only slaughtered and maimed hundreds of innocents but also tried to kill us on numerous occasions only to be rendered harmless because of the government chip in his head? Well, I've kinda been sleeping with him. A lot." Yeah, that would go over real well with the gang.

Buffy sighed. She had no option but to go cold turkey and all other kinds of chilled poultry to get over him. The problem was that not seeing him only made her want to see him more. Even now, standing there in the cold wind of the graveyard she imagined she could smell him. That distinctive combination of soap, nicotine and something else, something elemental. It was almost as if he were-

"Last I checked, unlike me, you don't need an invite."

Buffy spun around. He was standing under the light of the half-moon staring at her with a mixture of relief and amusement. A slight smile carved into that dangerous face.

"Thought it'd be at least a week before you came round, love. Couldn't keep away?" His voice was light, playful, but there was something deeper underlying it, something fragile, questioning.

"I was...patrolling," Buffy countered. She dug her hands into her back pocket and pulled out a stake. "See?" She said, wiggling it up in the air.

He scoffed. "Patrolling? Directly outside my crypt. Pretty convenient innit?" He took a step towards her. "You've gotta work on your lying, pet."

She sighed and made a move to walk past him. "Not everything's about you, Spike. And this sure as hell isn't."

He reached out and grabbed her before she could leave. "Then why won't why look at me?" he asked.

She struggled to get out of his grip but he held on tightly. "Buffy." He said her name on a breath.

Buffy shook her head and looked past his shoulder. "Don't do this."

His grip on her shoulders slackened and he ran his one hand down her arm. "I miss you," he said, in a voice she knew to be sincere. A voice that made it all the more difficult.

"Spike..." she refused to meet his eyes as her own voice trembled.

"It's not just the sex you know." He tried to sound casual, but his eyes betrayed him. They always did. "Not that I don't miss that of course. Get a bloke used to something and then take it away, that's bloody unfair, slayer." He laid his hand on her jaw in the tender manner he rarely displayed towards her outside of the bedroom. "I miss you, Buffy. All of you. I miss you stomping into my crypt like you bloody own the place. I miss you chattering away about your damn scoobies and their miserable lives. I miss the way you say my name just before you...and the way look at me the moment before you drift off to sleep." He sighed. "I miss you."

She looked up at him, unable to help herself, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "Spike, I can't. Part of me wants to...so badly, but I just can't."

He leaned in, positioning his mouth just a breath away from her neck. "You can," he said softly.

"No," she whispered, then pushed him back gently but firmly. "No."

He stared at her for a second, trying to judge if she could be swayed, then upon, realising that she probably could, he released her. "Right then," he said, taking a step back. "I guess I'll see you around, slayer." He dug his hands into his coat pockets and brushed past her.

Buffy waited until she heard the slam of the crypt door before turning around. "I miss you too," she admitted to the cold, lonely night, then gripped her stake and walked out into the darkness, looking for something to kill.

FIN