Dark eyes looked sheepishly at the floor, “Please forgive the intrusion,” Panya said, “Mister Giles told me, but…” his eyes took in the whole of his friend; took in the ill- fitting fleece, and the worn duster that he’d seen Shujaa wearing, that seemed to fit very well, and smiled, “I had to see for myself. All is as it was, yes? Giza is where he belongs?” he asked with a happy glint in his eye.

Spike gave a shuddering sigh and hoped that Mouse didn’t notice how much of his body weight was being supported by the door jam. He was grateful that Panya could not see his hand shaking and the muscles of his forearm straining to hold the doorknob, “I think so,” he whispered, the strength of his voice disappearing in the swirl of pain that had been his existence for months, “I’m a little older,” he shrugged, “maybe a little wiser. Oh Mouse,” Spike shook his head, once again overcome with emotion, “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

Panya’s shining eyes looked back at him, and his voice quietly broke, “I think I may. It is good to see you, Simba,” his eyes again returned to the floor, “You and Shujaa need to be…I will be down with the others, should you need me,” as he turned to go, he said softly, over his shoulder, “Tell her, Simba. Tell her what is in your heart.”

Spike nodded, taking in breath heavily, the sound spoke of how weary he was, “I intend to, Mouse.”

Simba’s eyes and voice betrayed the great pain that Panya knew was lurking just beneath the face his friend showed to the world, “Do not wait, friend,” the boy said quietly.

“I think I’ve waited long enough,” Spike said as he watched the boy who had cared for him when no one, not even he, could care for him slowly leave his sight.
**********************************************************

Willow had seen that look on Giles’s face before. That was the look of disillusionment. Watching him pace the floor, she knew that the future of the Council was on his shoulders.

The events of the past few months, even the past few days had changed everything for her. So, she could only imagine what it was like for Giles.

When he stopped his pacing and looked out of the small window, in the foyer, onto the Devon countryside, she quietly slipped beside him and took in the colors that weren’t to be found anywhere in Sunnydale. She sighed, looking out at the mists that muted the green of the land, “Can you believe that I almost ended all of this?” she mused, “Crazy, huh?”

“And therein lies the rub,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“Kinda messes with the whole, ‘Good-guy, Bad-guy’ thing doesn’t it?”

Giles nodded, his jaw set as the conflicting emotions flowed through him, “If you had seen what I’d seen in Africa…the future of the Council is in doubt, Willow,” his voice was gruff and pained; the sound almost brought tears to her eyes, “If a vampire can be more humane than the institution, or the man charged with ridding the world of their threat, why does it even exist? What gives us the right? Who are we to judge them, when we are as corrupt, maybe more, than they are? When a vampire is monstrous, it’s known. But, with a human…”

As she listened to Giles speaking, Willow let her mind travel over what she had done, and what Xander and Buffy and she had done to Spike, and to each other, over the years they’d known one another. And, not all of it was pretty. They’d all lied to each other, and hurt each other in ways that were very cruel.

She remembered how much they all grieved when Buffy was gone last summer. She saw the way that Spike lingered like a ghost in a graveyard as he worked through his grief. She saw how soft and caring he was with Dawn, when all the rest of her friends and family, herself included, were too numbed with grief to notice her.

She could remember how Xander dismissed Spike’s sorrow as just an act- an attempt to “get in good” with Buffy- even when Buffy was gone, and he could in no way impress her.

And she did nothing to disabuse him of that notion.

How could we have been so stupid?

Willow sighed, “Well, things can change,” she murmured as she turned to see Spike’s friend from his time in Africa coming to join them.
***********************************************

Spike tried not to focus on the loose gauze at her throat, tried not to notice the small, yet ever-widening spot of red as it seeped through the white.

He tried, but he couldn’t.

She looked so pale as she slept. So pale that he began to wonder if he’d hurt her, if he’d taken too much from her. But he was grateful that she could sleep.

He knew he wouldn’t; until he knew she was safe.

He sat on the chair again, this time with the seat facing the bed, his fingers trembling as he touched the small bandage, “I’m sorry, Love,” he whispered, as he battled the emotions within him, “Let’s see what we can do to fix you up,” he slowly removed the medical tape and cotton. His stomach lurched as two deep gashes were revealed. The fissures weren’t clean; the flesh was torn. It was jagged and bruised, and the sight of her skin blackening around the oozing, red, wounds in her neck made him physically ill, “Buffy…” the weight of what had happened made it hard to speak. He hated the weakness in his voice. But, he was too exhausted to care, “…If you can hear me…” he heaved a heavy sigh as he felt the long ago darkness settle over him once more, “…You have to know that if I could have…if I’d been strong enough…I would have stopped it,” his fingers skidded over the wound and recoiled as if he’d put them in holy water when she moaned at the contact.

“It doesn’t hurt that much, Spike, Buffy said softly, her eyes still closed, “I’ve hurt worse.”

Spike bowed his head, “Part of that is because of me.”

Buffy opened her eyes then and looked into his wavering blue gaze, “That was different. We were different, then,” she paused, and winced a little as she thought on her actions back then, “Or, maybe you were. Me…I’m not so sure.”

Spike shook his head in denial, still unable to look at her, “Buffy, don’t…”

“You didn’t hurt me, Spike,” she said, her voice growing stronger with her conviction.

Spike’s eyes shot up, and he tried to look into her eyes, but his gaze stopped at the torn, traumatized flesh of her jugular, “Buffy…” he bit back the rage he felt building within him at her blindness “I’m a vampire. That’s what I do. But,” he closed his eyes, trying to escape the deep tear in her throat, “…not like that. Not to you. I’m sorry…” his eyes lowered again. He knew of a way to help heal the wound, but he was certain that she wouldn’t allow it, “There’s a way to make it…” he faltered and stuttered. Suddenly his feelings were unwieldy, and he felt his forgotten hurts surfacing again, “…I could close the wound. There won’t even be a scar,” his eyes went to hers shyly, and he whispered, “If you would let me…”

Buffy couldn’t help feeling the lump rise in her throat as she sat up in the bed, “Of course I’ll let you help, Spike,” she tried to hold back the tears that stung her, but couldn’t, “I love you…so much Spike.”

Buffy felt the emotions vibrate through his fingers and flowed into her as he gently touched her neck, moving her head to the side. His voice whispered her name worshipfully as he placed his mouth on the wound and kissed the skin softly, “Thank you,” he murmured, the tremor of his words shot pleasure throughout her, “…don’t ever want to hurt you…”

Buffy’s tears flowed at the pain in his voice, and her heart hurt for him, “You won’t, Spike. You won’t…I love you, Spike,” she whispered to him, “I love you.”