She was beautiful, standing there. The light was flowing from her like water. He was transfixed, in awe of her and her power. She was the Alpha and the Omega.

The pleasure, the honor he felt upon hearing her speak his name, was near equal to the divine terror that shot through him when he heard her pain.

She called to him, wordlessly.

She was unaware of it, he knew, but he could hear her so clearly. As though she had spoken to him. It was like a siren song, her agony. It hit him so fast that he was powerless against it, and her. She pulled at him. She always had, and always would.

It was useless to fight it. His gaze locked with hers. And he saw the horror staring back at him.

He stood slowly, teetering at first, reaching to the stone for support. His body was weak, but he was willing.

Buffy watched as he slowly made his way to a small crate near the mouth of the cave. It was approximately fifteen feet from where she stood. His movement was halting. He was staggering, as if every step he took caused him pain. God, this is like watching a car crash. She heard the crack of splintering wood. Then he turned, and her eyes dropped to the jagged sliver of wood in his hand. His intention became clear, “No, Spike,” she whispered in horror. She wanted to save him, but she couldn’t move. Why can’t I move?

He could though. He moved so slowly and deliberately that it scared her.

He heard the murmur of voices surrounding him, pulling him taught. He tried to listen. He could see them at the edges of his vision. Mouse, and even Rupert were closing in, trying to protect him from her, and from himself. And he tried to step back, to save himself. But, there was someone else in the distance. Someone he had to find. Why are you so far away, Love? The shrillness of her silent cry overcame him, and drew him to her.

Small, insignificant steps, as he inched ever closer to where she stood, unmovable as granite, in the center of the aperture; her body never moved. But her eyes screamed out to him.

Once he reached his destination, Spike let out a heavy sigh, and he waited. Her silence was all the direction he needed. Fingers trembling, he opened her small hand and placed the deadly instrument inside. He looked up then, and he saw something dazzling. He was perplexed. Why are there tears?

His muscles burned, and gave out. His legs wouldn’t hold him any longer. I’m so tired, Love. I’m worn out and old. He fell to the ground at her feet.

She was so beautiful. A pillar of light clothed in darkness. His darkness. He had to rescue her from the darkness and the pain.

He wanted to rescue her. But, he wasn’t in control here. It was she. Always. She may not want rescue. It may be vengeance she’s after. He tore at his already tattered clothing, exposing his bare skin to her. Exposing the one spot that was his Achilles’ heel to her scrutiny, and her stake.

He looked up at the angel of his death, and offered himself to her. His existence was hers to command. Yay, or nay. Live, or not, it didn’t matter to him. It was all in her hands. It was the least he could give.

Words were spoken. He knew that because he felt the vibration, but he couldn’t hear the sound. It went out into the air and was swallowed by the pain in her. There was so much of it. He wondered at her strength. How can you stand, Love? It must be so heavy.

Just as he thought it, he watched her begin to topple. She crashed in front of him. The tears were flowing freely now. A beautiful wreckage, she was.

I’m so sorry, Love. So sorry. Her eyes were a glistening green. It was amazing. He knew he would be lost in those eyes forever. He would drown in them again and again, and they would always surprise him. They would always hold something new, something he didn’t know.

Like they did now. It was small, but he didn’t need much. He hadn’t expected anything at all, but it was there.

The spark.

Oh, I see it. There it is, Love. You haven’t lost it.

He looked closer and found the something new. He was stunned by it. He saw it, but did not know its name. Did laughter have a name when it was heard for the first time? No, this was something special, meant only for him. And, when she touched him, she was so soft and yielding. He could feel her trembling, and it was then that he knew what this shining thing was that put the glow in her. It had a name, and he knew it.

The bliss of recognition made him weep as he fell into her embrace. He was comforted and jarred by the warmth he found.

He knew of this. Fairytales were told, passed down through the ages, but he never thought to see it himself. But he did. He found it, in Buffy’s warm touch as he purged the pain and the salt from his body.

In her arms, he found forgiveness.

He shuddered, and broke, “Weye hai? Onea huruma miye uhayawani. Miye ni kitu. Najisi! Kinyama! Oh please, Slayer? Tell me I haven’t lost you. You were never mine,” he sobbed into her neck, unable to meet her eyes, “not really. Oh, Shujaa. Bembeleza…miye kisura. I’m so sorry!”

As Panya listened to his friend’s broken heart spill out, he too began to weep. He would remember this day, and so would all his family. Because this was the day a beast had truly become a man.
*************************************************

The moment she saw him, the world around her, and him, fell away. Nothing else mattered. A sand storm could have carried them all away and she wouldn’t have cared. She only saw him, and the unbearable pain he was in.

She saw him walking toward her as if he had no mind, or will, of his own. And the stake…No Spike, I can’t do it. Please don’t ask me to. Then, when he fell to his knees, she fell right along with him.

Oh God, what did I do?

It was like a mantra running through her brain as she held him. He was sobbing, speaking words that hardly sounded like English. But in the rush of sounds that issued from him, one thing came clear. It should. His actions told her what his words could not.

He’d torn himself open; exposed himself utterly to her. He was here, a physical waste. He was thin and bruised. Broken and traumatized. And yet he’d made himself completely vulnerable to her. Once again he put himself at the point of her stake because it was what he thought she wanted.

He had submitted, passively, to her will and her whims. Once again, he was her willing slave. She tried to think of what she could do to help ease the pain. But she could do nothing except hold him as he sobbed with relief and fear.

She tried to soothe him, “Spike, it’s all right. It’s going to be all right,” she whispered in his ear, as she ran trembling hands over his head and neck.

His grasp was almost painful now as his pain poured out of him, as if he thought she might slip away into the sky if he let her go. It was a pain she endured gladly, suddenly breathless with the knowledge and the joy that he was here at all.

He continued to mummer in a language she only half understood, “…kwa ajili weye. Oh, Slayer. I felt it. It burned. I thought, oh God! Hai. Weye…hia. Miye… umiza mtina… Oh…Buffy…” he finally fell silent, closing his eyes as he gave in to exhaustion.

Buffy felt him collapse against her and looked up at the two other people in the cave with them. They both had tears streaming down their faces. She was sure she did too, “Spike? Spike, can you hear me?” she whispered, trying to be understood over the tears. When he did not respond, she said, “I think he’s passed out,” she looked up at Giles, who nodded and moved to carry Spike to a place where he could rest.

Giles suddenly saw the face of a lost little girl gazing up at him. It was then that he knew just how important Spike had become to her, “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him, Buffy,” he said as he carefully disentangled Spike from her grasp.

Giles was surprised at how slight the powerful vampire’s frame was as he deftly lifted and carried him.

As she watched her Watcher gently place Spike on a small heap of blankets in the corner of the cave, a chill ran down her spine. What did he do? She turned to the boy, “What was he talking about? I didn’t understand it. What language was that?”

“It was Swahili,” Panya’s forehead creased as he concentrated, “It was difficult for me to discern Simba’s meaning because of the powerful emotions,” he sighed, “But, I believe he expressed a great relief that you were alive. And, sorrow and regret, much regret, for his behavior. There was sorrow, especially for an unclean, a filthy act. A…violation?” Panya’s eyes widened as he began to understand. The words came clearer, “He said, ‘ Najisi.’ Were you raped, Shujaa?”

Buffy gasped in shock. She shook her head in disbelief, “Rape? No, I… Is that what he thinks?”

Panya shrugged and shot a pointed look in the direction of his fallen friend, “Most assuredly. It brought him here. That much I do know.”

“Oh my God,” Buffy whispered, “How long has he been here?”

“I found him over a month ago. I have no idea how long he was here before I discovered him.”

“I do,” Buffy breathed as she walked over to meet Giles. She looked over his shoulder to where Spike was sleeping, “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know the specifics, Buffy. He’s been in no condition to tell me. But I do know that he has changed. So much so that he will most likely be hunted, for the rest of his existence, like the animal we all thought he was.”

“Was?”

Giles sighed wearily, “Buffy, I’ve been with him for a week and I know. Did that display teach you nothing?” his tone was biting, “You are the Slayer. Would a normal vampire, would Angelus willingly place himself beneath the point of a Slayer’s stake? He will not survive the transition without protection?”

“Transition?”

Giles rolled his eyes. His Slayer was quite obviously in shock, and his nerves were frazzled. He had to proceed slowly, or he was sure to do something he would later regret. He looked into her eyes, searching for understanding, “Buffy, I don’t know how, or why, but he sought restoration. And, he apparently acheived it. Buffy, he has a soul.”