Author’s Note: Some dialogue taken from Seeing Red, and Checkpoint. Challenge requirements will be posted at the end of the fic. Thanks to Bloodytearsoflife for the read through. Italics denote thoughts and memories Disclaimer: Pixies told me that I really don’t own Btvs, it’s sad but the Pixies, they don’t lie.

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Buffy sat huddled against the bathtub, trying to cover up as much of her body as she possibly could with her old grey bathrobe.

How could he do this to me?

Buffy clutched at her robe again, as she started to shiver.

How could he not do this to me? After all the things I did to him.

A thin hand emerged from her robe and wiped her own tears away.

He was supposed to love me. How could he do that if he loves me?

Buffy raised herself up from her place on the floor. She took a look at the tub, she couldn’t bear to think of a bath now. There were too many thoughts swirling about in her brain.

The words she had spoken to him ran over and over in her thoughts.

I'm not saying I don't have feelings for you. I do. But it's not love. I could never trust you enough for it to become that.

Ask me again why I could never love you.

Buffy covered her face with her hands and let a loud wail out. She refused to be a victim in all of this and she had a very strong urge to beat the crap out of him for making her feel this way.

Buffy slammed her fist into the wall covering up another sob.

Because you love me. his voice echoed in her head.

“No!” she sobbed.

Why do you keep lying to yourself? said the Spike voice again.

Buffy sat down on the edge of the tub and looked at the cracked porcelain tile. She had tried to get him to leave her alone for so long. It seemed now she had finally driven him to do something he had never done. Hurt her.

Why do you keep lying to yourself?

It’s easier if I lie to myself.

The problem was that he was right, he was always right and it drove her nuts. Buffy was brought out of her mental conversation by the squeak of the bathroom door opening, revealing Xander, his face none too happy.

“This what you call not seeing Spike anymore...” he said raising Spike’s duster in his hand.

Spike’s duster. In Xander’s hand it seemed blasphemous. It was his big bad image, it was his protection from the things in the night that could hurt him, hurt his heart. It was his protection from her.

Her stomach turned at the sight of Xander’s meaty hand clutching the leather, bruising it. She resisted the urge to yank it from his hand.

“What did he do?” he said softly, then his voice turned harsh. “Did he hurt you? Buffy?”

Buffy looked up into her friend’s eyes, trying to comprehend what he was saying, what he was implying by his words.

Did he hurt me?

No more than you’ve ever hurt him, came that disloyal voice in her head.

“Buffy?” repeated Xander.

“He ... He didn't...” she finally got out, not conveying any part of the meaning she wanted to.

He didn’t do anything you didn’t drive him to do.

“Son of a bitch,” yelled Xander, throwing Spike’s duster down on the hard ceramic floor.

Buffy’s eyes take in the pile of leather that sat two feet away from her body. It was so lifeless without him in it. Buffy snaked her hand towards the black coat, placing feather touches over it.

She didn’t know how she registered Xander turning to leave, all she knew was that he was going to see Spike, probably to hurt him, hurt her, dust him.

“No,” she said firmly but softly.

“But, Buffy, what he did...” said Xander pointing at the bruises that she had ignored until now.

Buffy looked down at her thigh, an expression of further sadness passing over her face. Buffy looked back up at her friend. It was as if she could see the waves of rage that was pouring off of him.

“You don’t know what he did Xander. I haven’t told you anything,” she said gathering her resolve back.

“You think I’ll let him get away with this? He made you cry!” raged Xander.

“We make each other cry, Xander. It’s what we do,” she said looking back at the black duster lying next to her on the floor.

“If he shows his face...”

“No.” Buffy cut her friend off, looking directly into his eyes, firm.

Spike wouldn’t be coming back.

An audible gasp came from the Slayer, sitting on her bathroom floor as the harsh reality hit her.

Spike wouldn’t be coming back.

Xander watched, worried as his friend started to shake her head, as if she was trying to convince herself of something, having a conversation with herself.

“Uh, Buff?” he said worried.

“He won’t be coming back,” she said aloud, making the fact all the more real.

“That’s a good thing though,” said Xander smugly.

“No!” she shouted, catching Xander off guard. “He can’t leave. He can’t leave me. I need him!”

The shocked face on Xander was priceless. Buffy was too busy reconciling what she was going to do to register her friend’s shock.

“I need him!” she said more softly.

“This is Captain Peroxide we are talking about right?” asked Xander, trying to turn this into a joke.

Buffy looked once more into Xander’s eyes and glared, effectively shutting the carpenter up. Buffy grabbed Spike’s duster and headed out the door past her friend.
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He can’t leave me, she thought, as she walked, barefoot wearing her grey robe and Spike’s duster, towards his crypt. I need him

Buffy wiped away a few tears that had dared to roll down her cheeks. She didn’t have time for tears now, but as much as she tried to convince herself of that, they still kept coming

She had been horrible to him. She had to make him see that she was sorry, that she needed him, that Dawn needed him. She was sorry.

She reflected over all the badness that had been happening lately between then. They had been acting almost boyfriend/girlfriendy at her birthday. What had happened to her, to them?

You happened, said that disloyal voice in her head.

“I didn’t want it to happen this way! Why did he have to...Grrr,” said Buffy into the night air.

He just wanted to be loved, said the voice again.

Buffy kicked at a tombstone as she entered Restfield cemetery, her lack of shoes not causing her any concern. Buffy threw open the door to his crypt without a thought. She had to make him see.

Dimly lit by candles Buffy had no problem seeing that Spike was not on the upper level of his crypt. She felt relieved that she could still feel those helpful vampire tinglies in the crypt, indicating that he was still there and not at Willy’s drowning in booze. Her heart started beating faster as she descended the ladder to his bedroom.
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Spike had crashed into his crypt twenty minutes earlier wrapped up in his own thoughts and recriminations. The events that had taken place only moments ago to him were ever present in his mind, tormenting him, taunting him. One question on his mind.

How could I do that to her?

His eyes lit upon temporary comfort in the bottle of vodka he had stashed. Trembling with rage, humiliation, and regret, he poured himself a glass hoping to take away some of the pain.

The drink barely made it to his lips before another wash of the images of what he had done attacked him.

How could you do this to the one you love?

The glass made a crunch noise as he crushed it with his bare hand, vodka and glass spilling to the floor.

“What have I done?” he started, looking at the floor, and the remains of his glass. “Why didn't I do it? What has she done to me?”

Spike sat on the sarcophagus that had once been his bed, his head in his hands.

What has she turned me into?

You would have turned yourself into anything to be with her, he answered himself.

“We were never together. Not really. She wouldn't lower herself that far,” he said aloud and with disgust.

Nothing but a monster.

“Why do I feel this way?”

Love's a funny thing, he remembered saying once upon a time. It seemed appropriate for the situation.

“Is that what this is?” he asked himself.

The chip, I can feel it. Squirming inside my head. Little Jiminy Cricket, gnawing bits and chunks, he thought, unconcerned about just how much this sounded like something Drusilla would say.

Eagerly Spike’s hands probed his head, trying to feel around for the chip, would he be able to discern where it was?

“Everything used to be so clear. Slayer. Vampire. Vampire kills Slayer, sucks her dry, picks his teeth with her bones. That's how it's always been. I've tasted the life of two Slayers. But with Buffy...” Spike paused his soliloquy wishing away a surge of emotion brought up by her name. “This isn't the way it's supposed to be. It's the chip. Steel and wires and silicon. It won't let me be a monster. And I can't be a man. I'm nothing.”

Changed for her.

“Then I can change back,” he said aloud. “She thinks she knows me. She thinks she knows who I am. What I'm capable of. She has no idea. I wasn't always this way. It won't be easy, but I can be like I was. Before they castrated me. Before... Then she'll see who I really am.”

Spike smiled at the plans he had formed in his head. He’d make her see, make her regret. With a new bounce in his step Spike jumped down into his lower level and grabbed a bag. His dark and sinister smile remaining on his face as he began to pack up his belongings.
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Buffy dropped down to the lower level of Spike’s crypt. The walls were singed but he had done a good job of cleaning up the mess from the explosion. Her eyes focused right away on his figure, leaning over his new bed, and the bag that he was packing things into. He hadn’t bothered to look at her, though she knew that he heard her approach.

Buffy swallowed with some difficulty before moving closer.

“What...What are you doing?” she asked, her voice taking on the quality of someone afraid.

“What does it bloody look like I’m doing? I’m leaving. Can’t stay. Not after...”

Buffy felt her breath hitch in her throat. He was leaving. Leaving her.

“You...you can’t,” she whispered.

Spike stopped his packing and stared hard at the girl.

“I? Can’t?” he spat. “News flash Slayer I’m not one of your Scoobies. Proved that much tonight. I don’t take your orders.”

“Spike...” she said sadly.

“Why aren’t you here to put down the bastard that’s tried to...” Spike shook his head trying to stay on track. “You broke me, used me, spat me out and ground me into the dirt. I’m not worthy to touch you,” he said disdainfully, going back to pack the last few items into his bag.

“I...I broke you...” she said softly.

Either Spike didn’t hear or he ignored her. He picked up his duffle bag and stalked past her, without giving her a look..

“No!” she gasped realising that he was actually leaving her then and now. “Please...Spike...I...”

Spike turned.

“Please...” she gasped again. “Please don’t go.”

Spike glared at her.

“I need you,” she whispered.

“Oh! Well that changes everything don’t it?” he raged. “The Slayer needs me! So what I want is secondary. It’s always been about you want, what you need. What about what I need?”

“Don’t you need me too?” she asked.

“No, I don’t,” he said firmly. “I need to be the vampire I was. You think I like that you have power over me? I’m the soddin’ Big Bad! Not the soddin’ Slayer’s lap dog. I’m through being your personal punching bag.”

Buffy reached out to touch him, but shrank back as if he would melt if she touched him.

“Don’t you love me?” she whimpered.

Spike couldn’t help but notice the tears that were threatening to fall. Pulling out her bag of tricks, he thought. Spike growled at her and headed up the ladder.

“NO!” she screamed as if in pain and grabbed for him, pulling the vampire back down the ladder. Buffy clutched at his legs forcing him to remain still or else lose his balance. “Please don’t leave,” she sobbed. “You can’t leave, I need you. Oh god I need you Spike. I’m dead without you!”

Her sobs took over the pained and cracked voice. Spike looked down at the sobbing Slayer confused as to what exactly he was supposed to do. He had hurt the girl, really hurt the girl apparently. More than he actually thought he had.

And the fact of it was ripping out his insides. He had to get away.

Spike reached down to dislodge her arms from his legs without success. Damn Slayer strength.

“Please don’t leave me Spike! Don’t leave me like the others. I’m sorry!” she sobbed.

Spike scowled. The reminder of how the other gits who loved her left her brought a thought back into his brain. Initially he had taunted her when the Soldier Boy had left,

“Oh, I get it. You just don't like who did the rescuin', that's all. Wishin' I was your boyfriend what's-his-face. Oh wait, he's run off.”

“You know what? I don't need a boyfriend, to rescue me or for any other reason.”

“Don't need or can't keep? You keep making notches in the headboard but eventually they get up out of the bed and run off, don't they?”

He was just another notch in her headboard.

“You're disgusting.”

“Oh, rough talk. Maybe that's your problem, maybe you push 'em away. Or is it the other? Maybe you cling too much. Or maybe ... your beauty's fading. The stress of slaying, aging you prematurely. Things not as high, not as firm.”

“You know what, Spike? The more I get to know you, the more I wish I didn't.”

“Or maybe you just don't hold their interest.”

She held his interest though. Her sobs were tearing him up inside.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she babbled into the damp leg of his jeans, dampened by her flowing tears.

“Slayer...” he growled at her.

She didn’t respond except to grasp him harder.

“Buffy...”

No response.

“Buffy!” he yelled, causing the girl to look up with frightened eyes.

Those eyes scared him. That she would look on him with fear was...well scaring the crap out of him. She was the bleedin’ Slayer! She shouldn’t be afraid of the likes of him.

Spike shook her off of him and stepped away only to have the sobbing return, her breath hitching as she started to hic up from the stress of so much crying.

She sat like a lump on the floor of his crypt crying, red and puffy, playing with the sleeve of the coat she was wearing.

It was only then that he noticed what she was wearing.

His coat.

And not much else.

“Get up!” he said harshly, over her sobs.

She looked up at him again, that look of fear in her eyes once more, or still.

He could tell that she was trying to control the crying, as she wiped her nose with her hand. Spike growled and in one swift motion he pulled the sobbing girl to her feet.

He just had to stop her crying it was driving him nuts. It was making him forget about being the vampire he was and reminding him that he was living his unlife for her.

Buffy’s fingers fisted into his shirt, her nails digging into his skin. He knew at that moment that she wouldn’t be letting go without a fight.

Fight that he would win.

A fight that would make his demon proud of him. Spike slipped into game face and struck, his fangs embedding themselves into her neck.

In that instant, Buffy stopped crying. The silence was golden. But in the silence, Spike felt that after effect of the bite that he hadn’t thought about in what seemed like years.

Through blood you feel. You feel the emotions of the victim. When it had been all about fear, it was intoxicating. Fear tasted good, fear made blood yummy.

Buffy’s blood tasted different. It was a combination of so many things, his demon needed time to process them all: the magical qualities of Slayer blood, massive amounts of regret, fear, loneliness, guilt, power, responsibility, worry, need, arousal, love.

Love?

Spike pulled his fangs out of her neck and pushed himself away. She wasn’t crying anymore, true, but the sadness in her eyes haunted him.

Her hand was on her neck, at his marks, the blood running along her skin.

“Why did you stop?” she whispered.

“Don’t want you dead pet.”

“I’m already dead,” she muttered. “My body just hasn’t clued in yet.” There was a pause as neither one of them knew what to say. “Thank you,” she said, finally breaking the silence that engulfed the crypt, her hand dropping from her neck, revealing the bloody mess that he had caused.

“For what?”

“For trying.” She exhaled. “For trying to make me see, for trying to make me live. For loving me.”

Buffy exhaled again, trying to keep the tears down.

There was resignation in her eyes, Spike noted. She was going to let him leave. A part of him was happy about this, and a part was terrified of what he’d find when he came back. ‘Cause there was no doubt in his mind that he would be coming back, to take back what he considered his.

She was his.

His marks were on her neck to prove it.

As if she knew exactly what he was thinking, her hand flew back to the wound.

“You made me feel, you made it possible to get through the day and I was all abusive girl to you.”

“Would have done anything for you Buffy. I love you.”

“I know.”

Spike looked up for a moment, his heart fluttering for a moment, or the impression of it.

“I need to be able to love myself again. That’s why...I was cruel, I was unfair. Why did it take you this long?” she said straining to keep back the tears.

Spike raised an eyebrow, uncertain of what she meant. Quietly, as his eyes were on her, she removed his duster, revealing that she was still wearing her old grey robe. Spike looked away.

“Should never have done that to you Buffy.”

A hurt laugh escaped her lips. “I should never have beat you in that alley, or made you feel like you were nothing. God, I’m the queen of abuse. Verbal, physical, emotional...I’ve done it all, to you and you took it. Why?”

“You know why.”

“Ya, I do. I can’t. They left that part of me in the ground.”

“Not true.”

“Feels like it.”

Silently she handed his duster to him. Without a word he took it and dropped it on the bag at his feet. They both stared at the bag for a moment. Buffy’s heart started to race once more. Was he still going to leave?

His vampire hearing picked it up, the increased pounding of her heart.

“Why are you here Buffy?” he asked.

“I...came to stop you from leaving. Don’t want you to go. Don’t want you to leave me. I was too late to stop Riley. Couldn’t make the same mistake with you.”

Spike leaned against the ladder and crossed his arms. He wasn’t happy about the comparison with Captain Cardboard. And it was still all about her: what she needed, what she wanted.

“If you can’t stay here, because what happened...I’d understand. I...I want you to be happy. I don’t know if I can...”

“You made me happy, and miserable, all in the same moment love.”

“It’s the miserable part that I’m not proud of.”

“And what would you have done if you had stopped Soldier Boy from flying away in his twirly bird?”

Buffy exhaled again, ready to tell truths that even she had been loathed to express.

“I didn’t make it in time, I don’t think I wanted to stop him, deep down, you know.”

Spike nodded. “Got here right quick, this time.”

“I want to stop you from going.”

“You did. Stop me.”

Buffy looked up into his blue eyes wanting to smile, wanting to make sure that she had heard what she thought she heard. Within an instant, his lips were on hers, communicating just how sorry he was for her messed up life, for the bathroom, for everything. Things that he shouldn’t be sorry for.

She stopped him.

And she was never letting go.
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The end

Challenge requirements:

Right after the bathroom scene happens, Buffy has some sort of epiphany and takes off after Spike. I would like to see Xander left stuttering in the hall. She gets to Spike's crypt as he is throwing his stuff together into his bag. I want Buffy to completely fall apart, crying and begging him not to leave her too. Transitioning into complete hysteria and the only way he can calm her down is to bite her (you figure out how he comes to that conclusion). What happens after that is completely up to you other than Spike cannot leave.