11 JUNE 1868- LONDON, ENGLAND-

This was the worst day of his life. Father hadn’t been in the grave an entire year, and he was here, in the same church where the funeral rite had been performed, watching Anne Ellis, his own mother, marrying another man.

William knew that this was the proper thing for his mother to do. The past two years- first Emma’s illness and death- then Father’s unexpected demise had decimated the family finances. They had no home, and no standing in society.

He knew this union would restore his mother to some semblance of propriety, but this man would never replace his Father.

Mother looked radiant-even effulgent- as the guests showered her with wildflower petals as they left the church and stepped into the waiting carriage. The sun shone brightly in her golden hair. The sky above them was a singularly beautiful blue.

He should have been happy; there were no more worries now. The weight of caring for her had been taken from his shoulders.

Instead, where others saw a beautiful light, he saw only darkness ahead.

He wanted, with his whole heart, little Emma, back, safe and warm with Lady Alice at her side. But, he knew that would never be.

He knew that things would never again be safe, and he longed to be safe once more.

“…Spike?” Buffy’s voice held a cautious optimism, “Are you all right?”

“No,” he breathed unconsciously, and he blinked when Buffy recoiled slightly, eyeing him warily. He knew that look, and knew it well. She was frightened- of him. And, she had a right to be, “No, Slayer,” he shook his head, suddenly overcome with exhaustion, “not like that. I’m here,” he gave her a lopsided smile, “All present and accounted for. May be that I’m a bit too present, now. The melancholy…” he lowered his eyes, unwilling to see her softening expression, “comes on so quickly. It’s overwhelming at times.”

There was a tinge of humor in her voice, “Yeah…I know.”

Buffy tried to draw his eyes up to hers. She wanted him to know that she was truly sorry for what had happened to him, and for her part in it. She wanted to help.

She tried to keep her tone light and unthreatening, but every time he avoided her gaze, her chest became tighter and she had to fight to keep the tears away. He was small, so much so that the leather that had helped to make him an imposing threat in her eyes, now all but drowned him out.

What she saw in front of her now was a shadow of what he had been.

Oh God…Spike, no. This can’t be you. Where did you go? The only vampire that ever really scared me. And now…I really am scared…for you.

Spike knew that his silence would be unnerving to her. He could hear the small hitch in her breathing; the one that always came when she was unsure of what he would say next. It was that sound that drove him, told him she loved him, when her words denied it.

He wanted to be what she needed, but he just couldn’t find the strength. He didn’t know if he ever would be strong again.

Silence was all he could give her now.

Buffy’s voice wavered with tears, “Well,” she said as she stood slowly and moved past him to the door, “I suppose I’d better check on that take out,” she sighed, “You need it,” he could hear the tiny sniffle as she opened the door.

“Slayer,” he said softly, “I know that you’re trying to help. And, I am grateful to you…and Bit,” he took a shuddering breath, and Buffy winced at how empty he sounded. She wondered how Spike was able to bear hearing that emptiness in her voice. She was sure she sounded, at one time, like he did now, “and Rupert too. If I hadn’t had…” his voice ebbed away, “I don’t know if I could have…” he whispered.

“You would have,” she interrupted, her throat painful with suppressed emotion, “Even if you didn’t have us- you would have made it,” she smiled over her shoulder, still fighting the tears that wanted to fall, “That’s just who you are,” she shook her head, bemused at the enigma that he was, “A vampire who refuses to quit. An annoying vampire,” she turned and looked at his slumped form- his head and shoulders so low now that his body was almost pulled into a tight ball. The very sight of him made her shiver. The sight of him made her want to run out of the room, but she knew she couldn’t do that, not now. Buffy fought the impulse to run, and made her way back to his side. She tentatively put her hand on his shoulder. This seemed to surprise him, and as he looked at her, his eyes appeared to dim because of the trauma he had gone through and she felt a devastating sadness come upon her. She could only hope that what she was about to say would ease his pain a little. She took a deep breath, “A vampire,” her voice was shaking, “who has suddenly become the most beautiful person,” she swallowed the lump in her throat, and her heart skipped a beat at the bright, rapt, look that was on his face now. It was a look that took her back to the Heaven she’d been denied, and she prayed that he knew what he meant to her. She prayed he knew, because she was just beginning to know, herself, “…The most beautiful man I have ever known,” she was enthralled by what she’d just discovered, “How…?”

Spike waited patiently for her to finish. He was, quite frankly, astonished by her words. His brow quirked as he quietly begged her to continue, “How what…Love?”

Buffy smiled, feeling happiness go through her as he used the endearment, “How did you do it, Spike? No one’s ever… He never…” Buffy hated to even mention the other. There was no comparing them.

Spike sighed wearily as he stood, his eyes caressed her as gently as his arms did when he pulled her into his embrace, “No,” he shook his head, “he never did,” his soft voice reached a cold place in her heart, “And, I tried not to, believe me. But,” he put his fingers under her chin, and pulled her gaze up to his, “how could I not…love you?” he finished quietly, a bit self-conscious, “And, I don’t know how. I only know that I had to. I couldn’t be what I was, anymore,” he smiled slightly, “I don’t quite know what I am, now. I just knew that I couldn’t be that. I couldn’t be the thing that hurt you,” his head lowered, and his forehead touched hers, “Because,” he whispered, “being that…was killing me.”