“Buffy -- wait -- what happened?” Angel tried to stop the tearful Slayer as she strode past him with a look on her face of broken determination. “Buffy…”

“I‘ll call you when I get home, Angel, I‘ve gotta go,” Buffy called over her shoulder, her voice trembling dangerously, as she hurried on out the door of the hotel and to the rental car she had borrowed to make her way to L.A. -- into the sunlight, where he could not follow.

It was perfectly clear to Angel that she was on the verge of falling apart -- and just did not want to be anywhere within his sight when she did it.

He watched her helplessly for a moment, frustrated that he could not follow her, before turning and striding purposefully up the stairs that led to his room. Spike was standing by the window, in the safety of the shade provided by the partially drawn curtains, watching as the Slayer‘s tires squealed against the pavement, and the unfortunate rental car lurched out onto the street in front of the Hyperion.

Neither vampire said a word for a long moment, though Spike was fully aware of Angel‘s questioning presence in the doorway. When he finally did speak up, his voice was thick with emotion, and barely over a whisper, though Angel heard him clearly.

“I’m a bloody idiot.”

Angel was quiet for a moment, taking in those words.

*What did you do?* had been on the tip of his tongue, but he wisely kept those words back in favor of a more tactful choice. “No, you’re not,” he argued quietly in a soothing tone of voice, as he moved cautiously nearer to his childe. “What happened? Why did she go?”

Spike did not answer at first, but then laughed bitterly in self-derision, shaking his head as he replied, “Because I told her to.”

Angel stopped a few feet behind Spike, considering those startling words a moment longer, before reaching a slightly less tactful conclusion.

“You‘re right. You *are* an idiot.”

Spike turned and looked up at him sharply, his blue eyes surprisingly solemn, and glistening with tears. “I had to. I can‘t -- I can‘t have her here. Not -- not yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just -- it’s just too bloody hard, that’s why not!” Spike burst out, turning away from the window and beginning to pace the floor as he went on. “She says she loves me -- and when she’s right here, in front of me, looking at me with those eyes and touching me and kissing me and…”

“I *really* get it, Spike,” Angel cut him off, a bit sourly. “No further details are necessary, really.”

“It’s just -- when she’s *here* -- it’s so easy to believe it…it’s almost -- it’s *too* easy,” Spike ignored Angel’s protest, going on with his attempt to make his sire understand. “I mean -- maybe it just seems so real -- her loving me -- because I *want* it to be real, yeah?”

“Do you want it any less when she’s *not* here?”

That silenced the blond vampire for a moment, as he frowned, considering that. “No,” he concluded. “But -- I think I’m not -- I mean -- I want her here, but -- I’m not ready, yet. To be with her. There’s things I need to figure out -- things I need to remember -- that once I go back to her, I’ll never take the time to think about again.” He paused, looking up at Angel with eyes pleading for understanding, as he finished in a voice of soft intensity.

“I need to finish coming to terms -- remembering who I bloody well *am* -- before I lose myself in her again.”

Angel nodded slowly, acknowledging the validity of what Spike was saying, and then opened his mouth to respond, hesitating slightly as he sought just the right words.

“If she really loves, you, Spike -- like she says she does -- don’t you think that maybe…she could *help* you finish working through the things you’re dealing with? I mean, I don’t know about you -- but I think if it was me -- the person I’d want to be with most -- would be the one I love more than anyone else. I mean, if they loved me too.”

Spike’s eyes lowered at the subtle note of pain in his sire’s voice, as he was reminded that the person Angel was referring to -- that person who was loved more than anyone -- was the same for them both.

The only difference was, she only claimed to feel the same way about one of them.

Him.

“I don’t know that she loves me too,” Spike pointed out, his voice low and slightly sullen, as he turned halfway away from Angel. “I know she *thinks* she does. Know she wants me. Wanting’s not the same as loving.”

“If all she felt for you was want,” Angel stated slowly and emphatically, as if the words were a struggle for him, “then -- wouldn’t she still be here right now?”

Spike fell completely silent, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the impact of those words, and slowly raised his eyes to meet Angel’s again, a light of understanding -- and dismay -- rising in his gaze.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, sounding stricken, a troubled question in his eyes as they searched those of his sire. “Have I done the right thing?”

********************************************

“I’m telling you, Buffy, you did the right thing.”

Angel’s voice over the phone was calm, reassuring, and helped to soothe some of Buffy’s fears and uncertainties -- but not all of them.

It had been over a week since she had been to L.A. to see Spike, and she had not heard anything from him since then. Though she was sure that she needed to give Spike his space to get through this, a part of her had still hoped that he would change his mind, that he would decide that he needed *her* more than he needed space.

As she had walked out the door of Angel’s room that day, that part of her had hoped that he might stop her before she could leave -- and when that hope had proven false, that same part of her had hoped that he might show up at her door the next day -- and the day after that…and the day after that.

But here it was, eight days later -- and she had heard nothing from the blond vampire.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice sounding small and uncertain even to her own ears, as she worried her lower lip. “I mean -- you’re not just saying that because -- well, because it’s Spike, and…”

“And I’m so incredibly jealous that you want to be with him instead of me?” Angel’s tone was incredulous and sarcastic, without being hostile or mean-spirited. “Hardly, Buffy.” He was silent for a moment, before adding softly, almost wistfully, “Those days are a long ways behind us -- aren’t they?”

“They are,” the Slayer agreed in a quiet, sober voice. She hesitated, unsure whether or not to say what she was thinking, before deciding to go ahead and say it.

After all -- what had keeping secrets ever gotten her but heartache?

“Honestly -- I was more thinking along the lines of -- of maybe you were unhappy with the idea of -- of *him* wanting *me*,” she confessed quietly.

Angel was completely silent for a long moment before he finally spoke in a voice that held an odd note of panic.

“Come again?”

“I mean -- you’ve been so protective of Spike, ever since you came here. It’s like -- you suddenly remembered -- whatever relationship you guys had before. You know, the whole vampire-sire-childe thing…and I kind of got the impression…you didn’t really want me with him. Like -- you didn’t…thought I was going to end up hurting him again… somehow…or something…you know, the whole, ‘nobody‘s good enough for my kid’ scary dad kinda thing -- except -- scarier, ’cause you know -- vampire.”

Angel’s relief was obvious in his voice, and Buffy could not help rolling her eyes as he replied with a sigh, “Oh…oh…I see what you’re saying…”

“And,” Buffy went on, her voice sounding small and uncertain as she forced the words out, “you were kind of right. I kind of did…”

“Buffy,” Angel cut her off gently. “We’ve already been over this. It was a mistake. You’re sorry. You didn’t hurt him on purpose.”

“That time.”

Angel could not argue with her point.

Buffy let out a quiet laugh that was somehow harsh, though its harshness seemed turned in her own direction. “If you *are* feeling like a protective papa, and I’m the girl who’s not good enough for your son -- it makes sense.”

“You *are* good enough for him, Buffy,” Angel stated firmly. He paused, before adding, “I think you just needed to finally see that he’s good enough for *you*, too.”

Buffy felt a pang of guilt at those words, knowing that Angel was speaking the truth. For so long, she had believed that Spike’s vampire status made him somehow less than her, somehow undeserving of her love and trust -- and that stubborn belief had cost him nearly everything -- nearly his very life.

Now, she wondered why it had been so difficult for her to see Spike’s incredible capacity for love, greater than that of any man she had ever known -- greater even than that of the man she was talking to now, the man who had been her first love -- and who had made the choice to give up on their love, when things got too hard to handle.

She had long since forgiven Angel for his hurtful decision to leave, and accepted that in the end, it had been for the best -- but she knew that Spike *never* would have left her in that way.

No, it had taken her unintentional betrayal to drive him from her side…and even then, it was not with any definite certainty that he would not be returning to her eventually.

All he needed was time to heal.

*Just keep telling yourself that, Buffy,* she sighed inwardly at her stubbornly hopeful thoughts. *Maybe eventually you’ll actually believe it.*

She understood now, that Spike was far more deserving of her affections, her love, than she had ever given him credit for. Although she had refused to see it before, she now realized that he had proven his love for her, again and again, too many times to count -- and she had done nothing but to use that love against him.

“You’re right, Angel,” she admitted softly. “The question was never really whether or not he deserves me…he always has…”

*The question is whether or not I deserve to be with *him*.*

Although she did not speak the words aloud, Angel seemed to have a good idea that she was thinking them. “Buffy,” he began gently, patiently, “he just needs a little more time. It’s a lot of stuff to work through, and he just needs to do it with as little distraction as possible. He still loves you, Buffy -- and he’ll come back to you. You just have to let it be in his own time -- on his terms.”

As Buffy hung up the phone, she sighed wearily, leaning forward and resting her head in her hands, her elbows on the kitchen counter in front of her. She reminded herself that it had really not been all that long since she had been to L.A. -- just a little over a week. She couldn’t expect miracles -- couldn’t expect that Spike would immediately accept her words and come running, just because she wanted it so badly.

Just because he always had.

*Things can’t ever be like they were again, love…I won’t let them be…*

“I promise it’ll be different,” Buffy whispered under her breath, her heart aching with longing to see him, touch him, again. She could still taste the lingering sensation of that last slow, tender kiss in her mouth. “If he’ll only give me the chance to love him -- I’ll make it different…I’ll love him like he deserves…”

“You know talking to yourself is a sign of insanity.”

“So is slaying annoying little sisters,” Buffy muttered loudly enough for Dawn to hear her from the kitchen doorway. Then she looked up, an exaggeratedly thoughtful frown on her lips as she added, “Oh, wait -- no, that’s just normal behavior.”

“Ha bloody ha,” Dawn remarked, the words yet another reminder of the close relationship she still shared with the blond vampire currently consuming Buffy’s thoughts, as she sauntered into the kitchen and went to the refrigerator, opening it and peering inside for a few moments.

Apparently, she did not find whatever it was she was looking for, because she closed it without taking anything out of it, and turned around to face her sister again, whose gaze was once again focused pensively on the counter in front of her.

“He still loves you, Buffy.”

The Slayer looked up sharply, taken off guard by the unexpected statement, but she did not say a word as she fixed her little sister with a questioning stare.

“He does,” Dawn insisted. “He talks about you, like, all the time. It sometimes gets a little annoying in fact, he does it so much. He wants to come back. He’s just not sure he’s ready yet.”

Buffy sighed wearily, looking away again. “I’d like to believe that, Dawnie -- but I just don’t know…”

“I do,” Dawn informed her matter-of-factly. “Because he told me.”

Buffy looked up at her again in surprise -- which was suddenly compounded, by the sight of the familiar form standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

“You’re no bloody good at keeping confidences, Bit,” Spike informed Dawn with a wry smile that was still tinged with sadness, as his eyes met hers for a moment in a nod, before finding their way to the Slayer’s face. “And you’re wrong,” he continued to Dawn, though his gaze was fastened on Buffy’s. “He *is* sure he’s ready.”