Giles watched, a small smile teasing his lips, as a roughly Slayer-shaped blur disappeared up the stairs. Just as the thought of what might be, and most probably was happening up there, as well, he knew, as it was in Sunnydale, began to take hold in his mind, Rupert found himself having to do his level best to stop a minor apocalypse.

An apocalypse in the form of Dawn Summers, who had begun to make her way up the stairs with an armful of bandages and antiseptics.

She was standing at the base of the stairs, ready to tear blindly into…who knew what, when he placed a gentle hand on her arm, and whispered, “Dawn, give them some time, yes?” he sighed, his gaze following hers up the staircase, “Some things don’t need…bandages.”

“But…” she sputtered, worry blinding her to his meaning.

He nodded, understanding her confusion. He placed his hand on her shoulder, “They will find us, when they’re ready,” he said softly, leading her away from the stairs, “I’m certain Panya has a few stories he could be persuaded to tell. Come with me, Dawn…”

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She wasn’t sure how it was even possible because her knees felt so weak, but Buffy knew it was real. She was in his arms, and for as long as she lived, she would never see anything more beautiful than he was, and the way he trembled as he touched her took her breath away. The way he looked at her, she had never felt more beautiful. She felt loved, and worshiped.

She felt divine. The world had fallen away. They were all that was left, all that mattered now. She couldn’t speak, he looked so surprisingly new.

How could I not see this? How could I have denied this? Look at him. Even broken, he’s beautiful. My God… He’s poetry.

The look in his eye- she couldn’t decide if it was awe or fear, or both. She’d barely touched him and he already looked like she’d given him the world.

He loves me…he really does.

She could feel herself starting to fall, and she could hear his thick, ragged breathing sounding loud in her ears. She could tell that he wanted this as much as she did, and always had, and still, even as his breath glided across the tiny bones in her ear, just as he shook every other bone in her body, he seemed so far away.

It started as a thought, a thought she chose to ignore because she didn’t want to be cold anymore. But then the thought became a word. A word that had taken his voice-his warmth- away from her, and she froze at the sound of it; the chill came upon her, like an artic blast, “…No,” he said, as he slowly and disbelievingly, as though he could hardly fathom the word coming from within him, or even that it existed now that she was in his arms, began to push her away, his hands trembling.

To Buffy, the inches between them felt more like miles.

She swallowed hard and blinked, “Spike,” Buffy breathed, “It’s all right. I want this. It’s all right…” she stepped toward him, trying to close the small gap that felt like a chasm between them, “No one’s going to hurt you, Spike,” her voice quivered with hurt. Doesn’t he trust me…? “I promise, Spike…”

Spike’s voice seemed drenched in a strange combination of fear and hope as he whispered, “No, Buffy…no we can’t,” he shook his head, his eyes shut against the vision that he knew he didn’t deserve, “Not like this. It’s…it’s just too much…”

Buffy could feel the room spinning as the heat of an old, familiar fire rose from deep within her. I have to fix this. How can I fix this…? She looked at him and was met with his widened, bright… “Oh, Spike,” she whispered, choking back the tears that welled up in her at seeing his, “please…” she swallowed the lump she felt in her throat, “don’t cry.”

His eyes couldn’t hold her gaze. He couldn’t take her fire. Why didn’t she tell me? Is it possible…she doesn’t know…?

He felt as though he would burn if he didn’t have her, and yet, he knew she would burn him. She had before, but now he didn’t know if he could survive the fire.

“Oh Buffy,” he said, his voice hushed, not daring to look at her, “…what I did…I…How can you…?”

“Spike,” she whispered, wanting him closer; wanting him to know, “How could I not? What you did, it was…amazing…”

She heard the air hitch in his lungs, catching on words of protest, she was sure; well, no more, not here, “No,” she said, smiling as she caught the scent of wonder on the air and the tears welled up once again, and she began to wonder, herself; Spike…don’t you see…? Don’t you know how amazing you are? “it was. And don’t you deny it. I want this,” her eyes went down, shyly, “But, if you don’t, we don’t have to…”

And suddenly, Buffy felt helpless. For the first time in her life, she was truly helpless. Her heart was in freefall and she didn’t know. She didn’t know what he would do. Would he catch her, or would he let her fall?

He was merciful once again, and her heart soared as he spoke softly, his voice cloaked in wonder and awe, his words filling her with an indescribable joy, “Of course I want to, Buffy,” he breathed, “But,” his words were both a balm and a shock to her as they fell, like fire, onto her skin, “Buffy, why didn’t you tell me?” she could tell, from the quiver of his breath on her skin and the light, amazed kisses that rained softly on her face, he was struggling against something powerful, something that wanted him in its sway, “Buffy, it…is this…?” he shuddered, and she saw the glint of light in his eyes as he brushed his lips against her eyelids, and she sighed, feeling the haunting tenderness of his touch, as his broken voice made her want to weep, “…Is this what it’s like, this burning? Is this what it’s like for you, Love?” he whispered, “Or is it just me, because it’s been so long…?” his voice ebbed, and became a shower of fevered kisses on her skin.

She didn’t know if he had stopped speaking because he expected her to answer, or because he could no longer find the words to express what he was feeling. Either way, it didn’t matter, Buffy could think of nothing but Spike, could smell nothing but him, and could feel nothing but her need for him. Her head was too swamped by his nearness and his touch to think.

She couldn’t answer him now, even if she had wanted to, because his question was truly innocent- as was he. It was one she’d never thought to ask. And, why would she?

For her, it had always been this way. But, for him? For him, this was new, and all he could do was ask. His voice floated over her, and made her shiver with its power, “…Is this what it’s like, Buffy, for you? Is this what it’s like…to love…when you have a soul?”