A/N: Much of the dialogue in this chapter is taken from Bargaining Pt2

Chapter 2

Buffy clutched her sister on the tower. Dawn was bleeding. The portal was opening. Spike had tried, she knew he had done his best but it didn't change anything, and it was clear what she had to do. It had to be Summer's blood. She had to protect her sister and her friends. She had to save the world.

Dawn was crying as she pulled away from her. It wasn't that she wanted to jump. She had to jump. There was no other choice. She threw herself off, arms spread wide into the shimmering portal. For a moment she glowed with an almost angelic grace. Then the light of the portal dimmed and closed.

It was over.

Buffy lay motionless on a pile of rubble. Dust and debris all around. The others were already standing around when Spike pulled himself up out of the pile of rubble he had landed in. His body ached all over but it was nothing compared to the pain in his chest when he saw her. She looked like some tragic work of art. Somehow, she managed to look peaceful laying there. As though in direct contrast to the roiling emotions burning inside his chest. How could this be the same force of nature he had made love to less than two hours ago?

This can't be real…

And yet, there she was. Spike crumpled in on himself. The tears came fast and hard and he didn't care who saw. The woman he loved, his salvation, was laying broken before him as a sacrifice to the world and no one would ever know except for them.

It should have been me… I'm already dead... I failed her… It should have been me…

He raised his head weakly and looked across at Dawn, she was the last tangible piece of Buffy left in the world. He may have failed the woman he loved but he would keep his promise.

Dawn will be safe. Until the end of the world. I'll make sure of it, I won't fail again… not ever…

Within the five months following Buffy's sacrifice, it was that promise alone that kept him from walking out into the sunshine.

Spike walked into the Summers front door panicked and annoyed, "Dawn! Dawn! Are you here?"

"I'm here!" Dawn's voice came from upstairs.

Spike huffed in relief. At least she was safe. Not that she was making his job any easier. "Thank God. You scared me half to death ... or more to death. You - I could kill you."

Dawn started down the stairs, she wasn't sure how Spike was going to react and she didn't want to scare Buffy anymore than she already had been.

"Spike," her voice was soft and pleading.

"I mean it. I could rip your head off one-handed and drink from your brain stem."

He had been so worked up that he didn't even notice the way his charge was looking at him as she came down the stairs towards him.

She tried getting his attention again. "Look," she murmured as she turned towards Buffy coming down the stairs behind her.

"Yeah? I've seen the bloody bot before. Didn't think she'd patch up so—" the words caught in his throat. Those eyes. He stood dumbly cataloging the scratches and scrapes. This wasn't the bot. It was Buffy. A living, breathing, beautiful Buffy. The eyes he had longed to see were watching him as though no time had passed at all.

His mind flashed to the stolen moments they had shared before the battle all those months ago.

She's back— Here and alive.

He wanted to rush forward, take her in his arms, tell her how much he had missed her. How much he still loved her.

Dawn's voice cut through his inner thoughts, "She's kind of, um— She's been through a lot— with the— death. But I think she's okay."

Spike continued watching her, like she might disappear if he took his eyes from her. Buffy started hurriedly doing up the rest of the buttons on her shirt, growing subconscious under his gaze.

Dawn looked between the two of them. "Spike? Are you okay?

He shook himself a little, dispelling a little of the tension surrounding them, "I'm ... what did you do?"

"Me? Nothing!" Dawn squeaked.

Buffy's eyes shifted around a little anxiously before she looked back up at Spike. The vulnerability of the situation was tangible, the air thick with emotion. He wanted to reach out a reassuring hand as he watched her fidget with her shirt. She finally seemed to control her fingers as she held the top of her shirt closed. That's when he noticed it. "Her hands."

At that Buffy pulled her hands behind her, looking a little embarrassed.

Dawn hesitated. "I was gonna fix 'em. I don't know how they got like that."

"I do." The thought of her waking up scared and alone like that made him sick. "Clawed her way out of a coffin, that's how," he kept his voice gentle as he turned towards Buffy, "isn't that right?"

Buffy nodded a little, "Yeah. That's... what I had to do," her voice came out in little more than a whisper.

He couldn't stand the thought of her having to claw her way out of a grave. Not her. He returned the gesture, speaking just as quietly. "Done it myself." He shook himself a little harder this time. Up until that point he had been unsure if he'd been dreaming. But in his dreams she would never be hurt.

He took a minute to regain his composure. "We'll take care of you. Come here." He added as he placed a tender hand on her elbow.

He could hear a slight increase of her heartbeat and couldn't help feeling a tiny shot of joy at the sound. Her heart was beating.

He turned back to Dawn, "Get some stuff, uh, mercurochrome, bandages."

Dawn nodded, "Okay!"

As she departed to fetch the supplies, Spike led Buffy over to the couch, he took a seat on the coffee table just opposite of her holding her hands. He looked down at her bruised and bloodied knuckles then caught her eye. Still the same green he had dreamed about so often.

"How long was I gone?" She asked.

"Hundred forty-seven days yesterday. Uh ... hundred forty-eight today. 'Cept today doesn't count, does it?" He couldn't help the small smile that crept to his lips but turned his attention back to her hands when she didn't respond.

"How long was it for you ... where you were?"

"Longer." The word caught in her throat. Every moment had been sheer hell since she had been back but in the quiet of this moment she could almost let herself get lost in the blue of his eyes. Their calming depths seem to soften the edges of the harsh reality of this world.

Just as she was starting to feel a tiny sliver of tension slide away, they were interrupted by Dawn coming back in with the things Spike asked for. Then as though on cue, the rest of the gang burst through the front door. Their loud well intentioned but incoherent ramblings were just too much.

It took Spike all of three seconds to realize what had happened.

They brought her back… they brought her back and didn't tell me… why the hell wouldn't they tell me?

He had thought maybe he was finally becoming one of the gang. He had worked alongside them all summer and then some. He had been the one to stay with Dawn. He had protected each and every one of them because it's what she would have wanted him to do and then they went and did something like this? The betrayal stung bitterly.

He tried to catch Buffy's eye but she was too overwhelmed already. The night had been a hellish miracle. Spike rushed for the door and Buffy wished she could follow him into the quiet of the night.

Instead Buffy settled for going to bed. She wasn't even sure if she would be able to sleep at all but at least her room was dark and quiet. She looked around at her things, her clothes, her stuffed pig, her pictures. It was all still there. She found her head so full, her senses so raw and overwrought that it barely even registered to her when the photos began to change. Instead of showing her the faces of her friends, the faces of the dead grinned back at her.

Yup that's probably just me losing my mind from all the crazy…

She thought glumly as she put on pajamas and crawled into bed. The bed was relatively soft although everything was just so hard and rough. As she laid there in the dark attempting to put the pictures out of her mind and sleep, she couldn't help but remember the last time she had been in her bed. The man she had been with.

Spike…

Seeing him tonight brought back a flood of memories. He had treated her so tenderly and she longed for more of that, more of his touch. Something in her wanted to seek him out but she stayed in bed.

He's probably back in his crypt by now anyway.

She sighed, she could almost feel his hands on her skin, the electric charge that subtly danced between them as he held her hands in his downstairs. That led her thoughts in a different direction altogether. His touch and adoration had bolstered her spirit the night they faced Glory. No one had ever made love to her the way he had and the look in his eyes tonight had been a shocking reminder of it. However, she didn't think she could handle dealing with the consequences of their actions for the time being.

The next day the Scoobies were a buzz with what they were calling a hitchhiker. She had caught them in the backyard, clearly trying to avoid her. There was something about the entire situation that made her feel like an outsider in her own home.

Maybe I just need time to adjust. Yeah, that's it.

She was attempting to give herself a pep talk but it just wasn't working. All day she kept trying to force herself to slip back into her normal routine as she remembered it, but couldn't. She wanted peace and quiet. She wanted to talk to someone, not just being talked to.

After leaving the Magic Box early she found herself making the familiar trek to Spike's crypt. The door opened with the same old clang. It was a little comforting knowing at least that hadn't changed. The same couldn't be said for the rest of the crypt. Spike had furniture.

Wow, he really fixed things up. It's actually kind of nice in here. She thought as she took a look at a few magazines on the table.

Huhh, what do we have here? A motorcycle magazine, another one for antique cars… yeah that tracks… and two teen magazines with Dawn's name on them. Wow, Dawnie must spend a lot of time here…

"Buffy."

She jumped like a startled cat but recovered quickly, as she spun around to look at him. She had wanted to come here all day, maybe just to talk, maybe just to sit quietly, she wasn't really sure. But now she was here, she had no idea what to say to him.

"You should be careful. Never know what kind of villain's got a knife at your back." He gestured with his hand holding the weapon. Her eyes tracked his every move. His knuckles were torn open and bloodied and it sent a pang of pain through her heart. She couldn't help thinking he looked tired.

"Your hand is hurt."

"Hmm," he nodded toward her hands, "Same with you."

Her hands fidgeted nervously as though she had been caught doing something wrong, "Right."

They stood there in an uncomfortable silence for a long moment. Neither of them sure of what to do. He looked down to realize he still held the dagger and went to set it down.

He didn't know where to start, but he had to say something. The silence was deafening, "Willow's getting pretty strong, isn't she? Bringing you back. It's hard to get a good night's death around here." He laughed nervously.

God, William, what the hell is wrong with you? That was terrible, no wonder she didn't even crack a smile.

He cleared his throat and tried again, "You can sit down. Got furniture."

She took a seat on a chair but still didn't say anything.

What is she doing here? You could ask her, you nit— No… if she wants to talk she'll talk; keep your sodding mouth shut.

"You should see the downstairs, too, it's quite posh," the words came out of their own volition.

Like that didn't make things extra awkward. Just invite her into your bed, why don't you? You git…

Buffy couldn't take her eyes off him. His awkward attempts at making her feel welcome would be endearing if she wasn't so overwhelmed with life in general. Even still, there was something comforting about being in his presence.

Spike walked over to her, sitting down with a sigh across from her. "Uh ... I do remember what I said. The promise. To protect her," he didn't know where this was coming from but as he spoke he realized he needed her to know, "if I had done that ... even if I didn't make it ... you wouldn't have had to jump."

She was stunned, he had been blaming himself for her death. How do I even respond to that? I know he tried… I know he didn't want this… any of this—

His soft voice cut through her thoughts. "But I want you to know I did save you. Not when it counted, of course, but ... after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again ... do something different. Faster or more clever, you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways ... Every night I save you," he finished with a whisper.

It was a long moment before she spoke, "I know you did your best."

"If I had done my best, you wouldn't have died."

"I don't blame you."

"You don't need to. I blame myself."

She shook her head gently, "Don't. It was my choice."

He could feel tears stinging the back of his eyes, "A choice you shouldn't have ever had to make! I never wanted any of this for you, Buffy— I— that night… before it all went to hell—"

"Spike—"

He looked up at her, his eyes full of longing that she just couldn't reciprocate. He clearly wanted to talk about their "moment" but she just wasn't ready. She sighed heavily, "I need some time to adjust to this whole living life thing again."

"No you're right— of course, it's too soon… we don't need to talk about it now. Pretend like it never happened, that's what you said right?" He gave a manic little giggle and sobered quickly, "I still love you, Buffy."

"I— Spike—"

"Forget it…" He stood up suddenly. He didn't want to hear her reject him, he couldn't take it, "You want a drink or something? Could find something to watch on the telly if you like."

"I don't really drink that much."

"Got some soda, been keeping some on hand for the Nibblet."

She nodded, "Sure…" she paused, "Dawn comes over a lot?"

He cleared his throat, "Ah, yeah, a bit. Mainly when the others got things to do. Been helping her with her schoolwork too."

She nodded, "That's really nice of you."

"Promised you I'd keep her safe. Trying to keep my promise," he said with a shrug.

"I'd say you kinda went above and beyond with the homework on that one. That's just cruel and unusual punishment."

He chuckled, "It was no bloodbath that's for sure."

A/N Reviews fuel the muse!