“I – I’m so sorry, Dawnie,” Xander began, his voice soft and hesitant, though he was beginning to feel a little encouraged by the smile on her face.

“I know,” she answered immediately, her voice not really giving anything away. Then, after a moment’s pause, she admitted with a little shrug, “Anya talked to me. About what happened.”

A sudden realization came on him as he looked at her, his eyes widening in understanding. “*You* made the wish!” he said in a voice of quiet surprise.

There was no accusation in his tone; he felt that he deserved what had happened, and in the end it had been for the best. Still Dawn felt a little guilty, and looked away. “Yeah,” she admitted. “You deserved it. I wasn’t lying to Warren. You *can* be a total creep sometimes, and what you did to Spike was probably the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

He started to interrupt to point out a couple of other things he was thinking of that were potentially worse, realizing even as he did how pathetic his case was if bringing up worse actions from his past was the only defense he had.

Dawn saw where he was going before he even spoke, however, and went on quickly, firmly, “No spell you were under. No hyena possession. Just you, Xander. Being an ass.” She paused for a moment, and he glanced at the floor, acknowledging the truth of her words, before meeting her eyes again. “You needed to understand,” she finished softly.

Xander looked down, remembering again the shame and horror of his experiences in Spike’s recent past. “I – I had no idea,” he went on, his voice quiet. “I didn’t know – what it was like for him. But – but your wish was a good thing, Dawn. I understand now. I hate that I did what I did to him. If I could go back and undo it…”

“Xander,” she interrupted, and he stopped immediately, looking up at her in a mixture of dread and hope. He held no blame for her for the vengeance wish she had made. He was the one in need of forgiveness here. And this was the moment in which she would extend mercy, or dash his hopes to the ground.

“I know,” she repeated. “I know you really mean it this time.” She paused, before adding, a little reluctantly, “That was pretty cool…what you just did.”

That brought a smile to his lips in spite of his mood of the moment. He shrugged modestly. “Yeah, well…if anyone deserves to see evil-nasty-creep me, it would most definitely be Warren.”

Dawn laughed. “I wish he could have seen more of it.” She was still smiling, but there was a hard note in her voice as she glanced past Xander toward the door where Warren had disappeared. “He needs to pay for what he did.”

“He will,” Xander reminded her, frowning a little again as he studied her face. It was not that he did not agree with her; he had seen first-hand the things that Warren was guilty of, and knew that he was deserving of punishment for what he had done to Spike. What troubled him was the bitter fury he saw in Dawn’s young eyes. “He’s going to go to prison,” he assured her, watching her response closely.

“Maybe,” Dawn pointed out with a shrug. “Maybe not. He’s got good lawyers. He has to have. They don’t just let you out on bond for armed robbery, Xander. Not usually.”

She had a point. He felt a little sick feeling rising up in his stomach at the thought of Warren being free to come and go as he pleased, after the horrible things he had done.

“Well, even if he doesn’t,” he said, his distaste at the very thought evident in his tone. “He’s not gonna hurt Spike again. Between you, me, and Buffy, I don’t think he’d dare come near him.”

“He did tonight,” Dawn reminded him. There was a steely look in her glittering green eyes that sent a little chill through Xander. It was clear that Dawn still saw Warren as a threat to Spike’s safety and well-being…and that she did not intend to let that threat remain.

“Dawnie,” he began cautiously, well aware that he was only just barely beginning to step out of the realm of those deserving of the wrath of Dawn.

She interrupted him suddenly, taking her gaze from the doorway and looking him in the eye. “We can’t let them know he was here. Spike would have a major freak-out if he knew. And he’s just starting to be okay again.”

Xander nodded slowly, knowing that she was right. “Okay. But don’t you think that Buffy should know?”

“I’ll tell her,” Dawn assured him after a moment’s consideration. “Later. When Spike’s not around.”

“When Spike’s not around,” he echoed, glancing across the room to where Spike and Buffy were just leaving the dance floor, laughing and holding onto each other still as they made their way back to their table. “And do you actually think that’s going to be *happening* anytime soon?”

Dawn’s smile widened knowingly as she watched them. “No,” she admitted. “At least not tonight.”


The dance had had an intense effect on the two lovers, still in that giddy, exciting stage of just rediscovering each other. The music had stopped, and the dance was over, but even as they made their way back to their table, they just couldn’t seem to stop touching each other.

Spike fell down into the seat, laughing, knocked off balance by Buffy’s slight weight as she tried to pull him closer to her for a kiss. In the end, he managed to maintain his seat without falling to the floor, and she ended up half-leaning between his legs in front of him, half-sitting on his lap, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and softly claimed the kiss she had sought.

She pulled away slowly, meeting his eyes with her own full of warmth and affection – and a depth of passion that was stunning to him.

Much to his surprise – and joy – she whispered, never taking her intense gaze from his, “God, I want you!”

He swallowed hard, his eyes widening in amazement at the blatant desire in her voice, her eyes. Last fall during their tumultuous, painful time together, Buffy could scarcely bring herself to admit tolerating him, much less to openly confess that she wanted him.

And as he looked at her, in awe of the fact that she was here and she loved him and wanted him, he was reminded of just how desperately he wanted her, too.

“Buffy,” he whispered, his voice low and husky as he pulled her toward him for another long, lingering kiss. He was simply unable to form any other words but the one that echoes through his every thought.

They didn’t part until they were both breathless. Gasping as she pulled back, a wild, almost feral look in her wide eyes, Buffy looked him in the eye and said quickly, breathing harder, “I’m ready to leave. You wanna leave?”

He nodded hurriedly, gasping for breath he didn’t need. “Let’s leave,” he agreed.

“Dawn!” Buffy called suddenly, and a little too loudly, turning around to look for her sister – who was suddenly standing right behind her.

She jumped in surprise, glancing up at the person accompanying her. She felt an unreasonable embarrassment, as if Dawn could somehow see the naughty thoughts that were filling her head, in the moment before she realized who was standing there with Dawn, and her embarrassment was replaced with anger.

Xander.

“Hey, Buffy,” he mumbled, unable to meet her eyes. She had to admit, though she didn’t want to notice it, the sight of him tore at her heartstrings. He looked so uncertain and vulnerable, his deep hopeful eyes glancing up at her hesitantly. And beyond all that, there was the simple fact that he was just so…familiar. Familiar and dear to her heart.

Or rather, he had been, she reminded herself.

“Hey,” she responded, her voice cool, not wanting to betray any emotion, positive or negative, to Xander, before turning her full attention to her sister. “Are you ready to go? Because I think Spike and I are about ready to go home.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Dawn smirked with a knowing nod of assent, trying to lighten the mood a little. “I wanna stay a little while longer, though. Xander will bring me home later, okay?”

Buffy glanced back at Xander, feeing guilty for the hesitancy she felt to allow it, knowing that it was not out of any concern for her sister’s safety. She knew, no matter what else had happened between them, that Xander would defend Dawn with his life if necessary. No, the thing that made her want to tell Dawn to come home with them was pure spiteful unforgiveness.

But despite the fact that she was not quite ready to forgive her friend, she recognized that it was of the good that Dawn could, and didn’t want to push her grudge back onto her sister’s shoulders.

It was also of the good for the house to be Dawn-free for a few more hours tonight..

She forced a smile to her lips and replied, “Sure, Dawnie. Don’t be too late, though.”

She did not say a word to Xander, didn’t even spare him a glance, as she took Spike’s hand and pulled him up out of the chair, leading him toward the door.


The ride home was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Neither of them had any desire to get into a car accident, so they somehow managed to refrain from any major touching for the duration of the short drive. Her hand tightly clasped in his, driving with the other, Buffy had a few moments to think.

She knew that Spike had suffered through unspeakable abuses, and that some of it had been sexual. That first night when she had initiated the first real physical contact between them, and he had broken down in her arms, he had confessed to her about the first time Warren had forced himself on him, the terrible shame and pain of that sickening violation.

He had also confessed to her that it *was* the first time – of many times. He had tearfully, haltingly told her how the violence and degradation had escalated, intensifying with each incident, as Warren had used his helpless prisoner to work out his own need to feel sexually powerful – every time leaving Spike a little more devastated, physically and emotionally, in the aftermath.

And, she was sure, also with some very warped, painful ideas about sex.

They both knew how this night was going to end. She knew by the looks he had been giving her all night, by the soft urgency of need in the way he had touched her, that he wanted her. Badly. There was no question in her mind of whether or not he wanted it.

What worried Buffy wsa the possibility that he might think it didn’t *matter* if he wanted it or not.

The last thing she wanted was for him to feel, once again, like nothing more than an object in her hand, to be used for her gratification and tossed aside when she was finished. She began to remember again with regret the preceding autumn, and how she had used him so cruelly.

She remembered the times she had barged into his home, not caring what he wanted, throwing him around like nothing more than a toy – and a poorly cared for toy at that. And she remembered other times, when he would come to her tentatively, wanting nothing more than to simply lavish his love on her, and she would shove him away, or worse.

She had sent him a consistent, brutal message for months – that his needs, his desires, meant nothing. He was there only to serve *her* needs.

How could she make him see that it was not going to be like that, never again?

She glanced over at him for a moment, and saw that he was staring pensively out the window, lost in thoughts of his own.

There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him; she had made it very clear tonight. And as to wanting her – well, he almost couldn’t stand to keep his hands off her long enough for her to get them home.

But there was a nagging fear in the back of his mind, struggling to the forefront in the stillness of the ride home. He was desperately insecure and afraid of failing her again as he had done the last time, breaking down, freaking out because of past wounds and fears, and spoiling the evening for her, after it had gone so very well so far.

In the past, when they had been together, he had never been what she wanted. Not really. Could he be now?

They reached the house, and walked inside, still in silence. Buffy closed and locked the door, and turned to him with a soft, encouraging smile, as she gently wrapped her arms around him again. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” she murmured and as she leaned in to enjoy a long, deep kiss, he knew she was not only talking about the ride home.

He felt some of his fears begin to melt away in the fervent heat of the embrace, as she began to move slowly backward toward the stairs, tugging him along with her. She reluctantly broke the kiss at the bottom of the staircase, glancing up the stairs with a sheepish little laugh.

She nodded toward them and pointed out with a little grimace, “That could be awkward. Let’s take a little break.”

He nodded with a slightly nervous laugh, and followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Immediately they resumed the kiss, and his arms slid around her instinctively. She realized after only a few moments that he had not forgotten the little touches, the specific places and moves that she had always loved. She could feel her arousal heightening as his hands expertly moved over her body, touching her in all the right places as they backed toward the bed. He always had known just how to please her…

She realized with a little start the deeper meaning behind that thought, and pulled back a little from the kiss.

He still felt that his part in all of this was nothing more than to give *her* pleasure.

She pulled slowly back from the kiss, felt his hands urgently pulling her back to him for just a moment before he remembered himself and released her, looking with anxiously searching eyes into hers.

“What is it, love?” he whispered. “Did I…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered back, smiling as she kissed him softly again, her hands against his chest pushing him gently back onto the bed. When she pulled back from him, her eyes were shining with love and a gentleness he had never seen in her in this sort of a moment before.

She knew now just what to do.

“You *can’t* do anything wrong,” she went on in a low whisper, shaking her head slowly, holding his gaze as her hands moved to unbutton his shirt. “Not tonight. Because tonight…is all…about…you.” And she leaned down to kiss him again, slowly, thoroughly, focusing on his responses to her kiss and moving with them, doing her best to feel out just what exactly *he* needed.

When the kiss ended, he looked up at her, eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and amazement. “What…what are you…?” he couldn’t even finish the question, breathless with the power of the moment building between them.

But she knew what he was going to say…and she knew exactly what she was doing.

What she should have done all along.

Leaning down close, so close that their lips were almost touching again, she met his gaze with intense emotion in her own and responded in a whisper that was barely more than a breath.

“Loving you.”