“Spike…” Buffy’s voice sounded a bit lost, a bit distant in her own ears, overwhelmed with shock at the sight of him standing there, right in front of her, just as she had hoped.

Oh, God -- was it possible? Was it just a wishful dream?

“Spike!” Dawn echoed, her voice barely over a whisper, her eyes wide as saucers as her young mind rapidly considered the possible reasons why he might have shown up here so unexpectedly -- and with impressive maturity, concluded that her presence would not be helpful to any of those possible reasons. “I’ll just, um -- talk to you later. Homework, you know…” she shrugged.

Still, as she passed him on the way out of the kitchen, she couldn’t resist giving him a quick hug. “But if you leave again without talking to me first, you’re dust, Mister!” she added in his ear, before releasing him and heading up the stairs.

Spike couldn’t help a slight smile at her affectionate threat, his eyes following her momentarily -- but the moment she had disappeared up the stairs, the smile faded from his lips, as his serious eyes came to focus on Buffy again. His gaze was piercing, intent -- but Buffy did not look away.

Silent, barely daring to hope that he was actually there, he had actually come back to her, she walked slowly toward him, her eyes fastened on his, and searching…searching for something that she had feared was gone forever.

Except…Dawn had just said…

“You love me,” she whispered, and though the sound of the words was a statement, there was a hopeful, desperate question in her eyes. “You still do…”

Spike glanced downward at that, but quickly met her eyes again, his head lowered and tilted slightly, his expression softening. “I do, Buffy,” he admitted softly. “You know that.”

Buffy shook her head slowly, tears welling in her eyes, of relief, and regret, and the remaining traces of the fear that had filled her heart for the past two months. “I didn’t. I mean -- I wasn’t…sure…”

“Well -- that’s just because you’re bloody daft, then,” Spike shrugged matter-of-factly, though his mouth twitched upward slightly in the barest hint of a smile, “because it’s not as if I haven’t done every last soddin’ thing I could to prove it to you. Even if it killed me -- don’t think I could stop if I tried.”

“You -- haven’t been? Trying…not to…?” Buffy was a bit startled by her own voice -- hollow, and timid, and small, not a bit like the powerful, commanding Slayer she usually was.

At the moment -- she was simply Buffy…a broken-hearted girl, hoping for a second chance.

Spike shrugged again, his eyes dropping again to gaze at the floor as he admitted softly with a rueful half-smile, “Not very hard.”

The tears that had filled her eyes now flowed down her face, as she swiftly closed the remaining distance between them, her trembling hands reaching out to rest on his arms, her eyes lowered as she whispered in a shaky voice of relief and gratitude,

“You’re here -- oh, God, Spike, you’re really here!”

Her words broke off the moment her hands touched him -- and he abruptly took a step backward, away from her touch…away from *her*. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with startled hurt, questioning.

“I-I’m sorry…what…what’s wrong?” she whispered, hesitant -- not sure she really wanted to hear the answer.

Spike did not look at her for a moment, his eyes focused downward as he drew in a deep, steadying breath, preparing himself to respond.

“All right,” he began a bit nervously. “Okay. Buffy -- just -- it’s all right, yeah? I’m not -- mad, or -- or rejecting you, or anything like that, right? I’m just -- it’s just -- we’ve got to go about this right. There’s got to be some -- some -- ground rules.”

“Rules,” Buffy echoed uncertainly, taken a bit off guard by his reaction, as well as by the surprising words, especially surprising coming from Spike. “O-okay. What kind of…” Her voice trailed off, as she looked up at him again, shaking her head in confusion.

“Okay…I’m already bollixing this whole bloody thing up,” Spike sighed, rolling his eyes in frustration at himself, before looking back at her, biting his lip momentarily before setting his jaw in determination.

“It’s like this, love,” he tried again, holding her gaze firmly, though he was clearly a bit self-conscious about this whole conversation. “I love you. You know I do. But -- things can’t go back to the way they were before…”

“I know that!” Buffy eagerly broke in, taking a cautious step closer to him. “Spike, I know! I meant what I said before, and…”

“I know you did,” he interrupted gently, then corrected with an apologetic grimace,
“Leastwise -- I’m *tryin’* to know it. Trying to give you every benefit of every bloody doubt here, love -- but -- you need to know right now -- this isn’t going to be a bloody cakewalk, Buffy…”

“I know,” Buffy broke in, nodding vigorously. “I know it’s not going to be easy, but I’m willing to work at this, Spike! I’m willing to do whatever it is that you need, to make this…”

“What I *need* right now is for you to *listen to me*!”

The Slayer immediately fell silent, and Spike winced slightly, aware that his tone had been a bit harsher than he had intended for it to be.

“It’s just -- this isn’t easy for me either, Buffy…and I just need you to hear what it is that I have to say -- all right?”

“Okay,” Buffy replied, her voice sounding unusually meek and subdued. “I’m sorry.”

Spike sighed regretfully, his tone softening as he replied in a loaded sort of voice, thick with emotion, “I am too, Buffy. I am too.”

After a brief, tense moment, in which Spike struggled to find the right words, and Buffy struggled just to keep silence and let him, Spike finally went on, keeping his voice deliberately calm and even, through the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

“This is just -- the way things have to be, yeah? If we’re gonna make this work.”

“Okay,” Buffy agreed softly, looking up at him with a solemn expectancy in her eyes.

“Here’s the thing of it, love. I still love you -- but -- it takes a bit longer to get back that sense of -- of trust. That’s why I think we should -- try to go slow, yeah? Don’t rush it -- just -- sort of -- get to know each other again…”

“Okay,” Buffy repeated in a whisper, nodding her acceptance. So far, his terms did not sound all that bad.

“And -- and that means -- without all the bloody distractions that’ll have me losing my soddin’ head and falling at your bloody feet again in a week,” Spike continued, rather bluntly, meeting her eyes not without compassion, as he confessed softly, “Every time you touch me, Buffy -- I -- all I want is you -- and -- and yet -- I can’t just -- just jump right back in, because if I do -- it’s too easy to just slip back into the same old patterns, love. And I can’t do that. I *won’t*. So -- until we figure out how to just -- just *be* together again…I…I don’t think…”

His voice trailed off, as he could not quite bring himself to say what it was that he meant, for fear of hurting her worse than he knew he already had.

But Buffy knew what it was that he was trying to say.

“You don’t want me to touch you.”

The mingled hurt and acceptance in her voice made the vampire wince, before meeting her eyes apologetically. “I’m sorry, love…I don’t mean to…”

“No,” Buffy cut him off firmly, shaking her head and bravely holding his gaze. “You’re right. We don’t need anything to -- distract us. Or confuse us. Not while we’re trying to figure things out again.”

Spike studied her gaze for a long moment, a bewildered sort of surprise in his eyes, before he let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Thanks, love,” he murmured, his gratitude obvious in his voice, as he prepared to go on.

“Also -- whatever *does* happen between us -- even if we never get past the ‘talking buddies’ stage,” Spike smiled slightly at the reminiscent phrase, but then grew serious as he finished, “can’t be a secret, love. Not again.” Before she could interrupt him, he held up a hand to give her pause, and reassured her, “Now, don’t think I mean we can’t have *any* secrets from the Bit, and your mates. Bloody hell -- there’s a lot of things we’ve done I’d rather never come up in public, love…but…”

Again, his voice trailed off as he couldn’t seem to find the words.

Again -- Buffy found them for him.

She held his gaze firmly, compassion and regret in her eyes, as she interrupted in a soft, earnest voice, “I’m not ashamed of you, Spike. I was stupid to ever be, before. And no matter what happens between us -- I won’t make you my secret again.”

Spike nodded, swallowing back the hard knot that had formed in his throat, before looking up at her with a self-directed roll of his suddenly tear-filled eyes. “Right,” he cleared his throat, with an effort getting his emotions enough under control to go on. “Right, then…’s long as that’s settled. And -- and there’s more…”

Buffy nodded, instinctively shifting in closer to him, as her desire to comfort him rose up in her, compelling her to take his hands, to put her arms around him -- though she steadfastly suppressed the impulse.

Spike’s downcast eyes glanced up at her, and then down again, as he said, “There’s got to be -- some bloody respect, Buffy. Both ways, I know -- but it can’t be…you can’t just -- just put me down in front of your friends, when you happen to be irritated with me, or just have had a bad day -- and you can’t call me names and treat me like I’m less than human.”

Again, he hurriedly interrupted himself before she could -- though she had had no intention of disagreeing with his words.

“I’m *not* human -- but I’m not *less* than human, either.”

“I know, Spike,” Buffy whispered. “I know that now. I promise, I won’t…”

“And if you ever hit me again, Buffy -- all bets are off.” Spike’s suddenly piercing eyes, suddenly riveted on hers, almost made Buffy be the one to look away.

Almost.

She forced herself to face the pain, the accusation, and the barely veiled shame in his eyes as he called her on what she had long held to be the worst of her offenses against him, nodding slowly, solemnly, in acceptance of his words.

“I won’t be your soddin’ stress reliever-slash-punching bag. Not anymore. Sparrin’s one thing. But -- but you can’t…you can’t treat me like -- like I’m less than you, Buffy. Because -- I’m not. Being human doesn’t make you better -- and neither does being the soddin’ Slayer, either.”

Spike’s expression softened as he added in a near-whisper, “That’s not what makes you who you are -- not what makes you special.”

Buffy did look away then, feeling uncomfortable with his sudden tenderness, in light of the things they had been discussing.

“Well,” she replied quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re pretty special yourself, Spike.” She looked up at him again, her wide emerald eyes breathtakingly open and honest as she added in a whisper, shaking her head, “I don’t want to lose you, Spike. I’m so sorry -- you know I’m so sorry for -- for all of that. And -- and there’s nothing you’ve said that I don’t agree with completely.“

She paused, before going on, “I’m willing to do whatever it is that you need to fix this, Spike. I -- I do love you. And -- and I don’t want to confuse you -- or -- or make things any harder on you -- but I want to be here for you, if you need me. I want you to know that I‘m here for you.” She hesitated, before adding, “I want you to *want* me to be here for you.”

Spike was silent for a long moment, looking at the floor as he finally whispered, “I do.” And, then, barely audible, “I need you, Buffy…why do think I’m here?”

Buffy felt an overwhelming sense of relief flood her heart, and she blinked back tears. “I -- I’m so glad you are,” she replied, with complete sincerity.

“Thank you.” Spike’s voice was soft, vulnerable, in that moment, before he glanced up to meet her gaze again, then looked away as the moment became slightly awkward.

“Right. Well…I guess I’ll -- see what’s become of my old crypt in the past few months. See if it’s…”

“Stay here.”

Spike looked up at her, startled -- and a bit apprehensive. “Buffy -- we can’t…”

“We won’t,” she cut him off, shaking her head matter-of-factly. “Not until you’re ready. But until then -- as my dear *friend* -- I will not have you living out in the middle of a cemetery in a crypt.” Her voice became both softer and firmer at the same time, her eyes narrowing slightly in determined focus, as she added emphatically, “You are *not* a monster, Spike -- and you don’t belong there. If -- if you want to,” she finished, her certainty leaving her with the cautious request, “you could belong here. You *do*, as far as I’m concerned…”

Spike felt his heart swelling up within him with a deep ache of longing and relief and fear and gratitude, all at once, all swirling together until all he could feel was his love for her, and he could not speak past the overwhelming emotions he was feeling.

“Please, Spike,” Buffy whispered simply, searching his eyes. “Please stay.”

Spike hesitated only a moment, before he nodded, swallowing back a sob, and managed to get the words out, “All right, Buffy. Thank you.”

Buffy nodded. “You’ll probably be most comfortable in the basement,” she remarked, clarifying immediately, “Not that you have to stay there. You’re more than welcome upstairs. But -- the whole…sunlight issue…”

Spike nodded, understanding. “Right. Basement’s fine, love.”

Buffy sighed, relieved. “Okay,” she nodded again, seeming suddenly a bit nervous. “I’ll just -- go and get some things together -- I’ll help you set it up…”

As she turned and headed toward the stairs, Spike stopped her with her softly spoken name.

“*Buffy*.”

She turned again slowly, looking up at him through strangely shy eyes.

His blue gaze locked onto hers, clearly speaking his depth of feeling for her, as he reassured her, “I *do* love you, pet. You need to know that. All this -- hasn’t changed that. It’s just…” He hesitated, looking away for a moment before meeting her eyes again and finishing, “…I’m just waiting on you to get there.”

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, shaking her head, ready to insist that she *was* there, she *did* love him, every bit as much as he…

And the thought dropped off there.

*Did* she love him, as much as he loved her? She knew that she loved him -- but that much? Spike loved more deeply, more fully, than anyone she had ever known in her entire life.

And didn’t he deserve the same from her?

She wasn’t sure if she had it to give -- yet -- but she knew beyond all doubt, that time would only bring her deeper and deeper in love with him.

She might not be quite there yet -- where he wanted for her to be -- but she knew that she would get there.

In time -- she would get there.