2 SEPTEMBER 2002- DEVON, ENGLAND-

The only sound was the gentle crashing of the waves against the sand. He’d turned away from her, walking to the edge of the sand, staring at the water as it crashed along the shoreline, and washed heedlessly over his boots.

The time away from him felt like eons. She felt cold. She hated that he’d turned away, but she knew why he’d done it.

This was crazy.

Now, he finally faced her. He stared at her, and she couldn’t help but give him a sad smile. He was speechless. “Spike, did you hear me?” It was a stupid question. She knew that. The fire in his eyes told her just how stupid he thought it was.

Suddenly she was glad Spike had chosen to put some distance between them. The way his jaw twitched, the way his eyes blazed through her made her feel something flutter in her stomach. It felt familiar and warm.

But it was also frightening.

“Oh, I heard you,” he growled, low in his throat; it was almost a whisper, “I’m hoping this is a nightmare, and I’ll wake up soon, because, ‘bloody stupid’ doesn’t even begin to cover it! You can’t seriously think I’d let you…”

She felt happy, and sad at the same time, that he cared this much. No one else had, “You’re not the boss of me,” she said softly, hoping, that the childishness of the words would diffuse his anger.

He stared at her. She couldn’t tell what was going on inside his head, but the expression on his face told her everything. It told her how he felt. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.

His world was falling to pieces, burning down around him.

“What?!” Spike choked, turning away from her again.

Spike looked out at the dark water. The dark was so inviting. It would be so easy, so familiar…so…wrong. His fingers brushed lightly at the mark she’d left on his throat. It was small, barely even noticeable, but touching it now made him feel so close to her. He shuddered, and wondered if she knew.

Does she know what she’d be doing…? Thank God there wasn’t time to… He shook his head. No. And, I won’t tell her.

“Buffy,” he spoke slowly, his back still to her. He was afraid to face her now. If this is something she wants to do, I can’t stop her. “It’s a part of you,” his voice was raw with restrained emotion. He tried to lose himself in the sound of the busy water, in its quietly powerful beauty. So much like her. “What you want,” he could feel her pain already, and that made his throat tight, made the words hurt as he said them, “It would be like cutting off a limb or cutting your…It would be like…”

“…Cutting my heart out?” Buffy whispered, approaching him slowly. She wanted to be close to him. She could see his shoulders moving oddly underneath his leather coat. Is he crying?

He was still watching the water. He’d always faced her before, told her things she didn’t want to hear, and she would punish him for it.

She wanted to make up for it now. She sighed, suddenly feeling vulnerable. A fear began to come over her. Why doesn’t he look at me? Why won’t he look at me? “Spike? Will you please…look at me?”

He turned around, and she felt her throat tighten. The shock of seeing that he wasn’t dust had worn off, and now she could see what Angel had done to him. His face was still swollen. It reminded her of how it looked when he brought Clem to her birthday party.

She wasn’t stupid. And now, after what she’d just “seen,” it was clear. She knew why Clem was at her party.

There was safety in numbers.

She’d left him to the sunrise. She’d left him on the pavement, and hadn’t glanced back. It was only now, looking back, that she realized that he could have dusted in that alley, and she hadn’t cared.

She’d left him to die. He was a vampire. She was the Slayer. That was her job. It was her calling.

Spike had brought Clem because he was scared of her.

He was scared of her because she was the Slayer.

Her eyes stung, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

She was never good with words. Where would she find the right words, the words to say how sorry she was?

He looked like he did in Africa. So tired that he didn’t look like he could stand anymore. His eyes were glistening, pleading with her, and she could barely hear his words, “Slayer, I…I-if you want to do this, I won’t stop you. I can’t. But, please, don’t do this. I’m not worth that kind of sacrifice. The world doesn’t need me, doesn’t want me,” he lowered his eyes, and his voice was shaken with concern for her. As he spoke, his fingers went, of their own volition, again to the mark at his throat, the mark that was his secret tie, his private chord with her.

“That’s not true! Someone thinks you’re very important. Travers certainly did, and so did those monks…”

“That’s not…I’m just a vampire. Nothing special. That’s Angel…”

“It wasn’t Angel his goons followed all the way to Africa. It wasn’t Angel he put in a box…”

Spike winced. Even the thought of his time in that prison, of what Travers had done to him, caused him vertigo. Again, he was thankful that there was no time to complete the bond. She didn’t need to know what he’d been through. She had enough pain in her life. He would not cause her any more.

That’s why this was out of the question.

“…It wasn’t Angel he drugged,” her voice hitched, “and beat, and put in chains. It wasn’t Angel Giles…or I killed for. That was you.”

“Buffy, please,” Spike whispered, uneasy with the reminder of his torture, and what he’d made her become, “stop. If you do this, what will happen to you? The world needs a Slayer. It needs protecting…from monsters like me.”

Buffy wanted to step close to him, wanted to hold him, but his whole demeanor told her that he needed her to keep her distance. He was still shaken, still frightened.

For the first time since she’d known him, Spike seemed frightened. She could see his whole body shaking, however slightly. This wasn’t a show for Dawn, or Angel. The armor was down. She was seeing him.

And, he was terrified. And Buffy was terrified, too.

He was scared enough to make me think he’d dusted…he wanted to disappear- To escape- Seeing that, shocked me into…Oh, God…that thing tried to kill him from the inside. It tried to smother him. He was weak…couldn’t do anything. Oh, he must be so angry.

In that moment, the battle was lost.

“You need protecting from the monster, Spike,” she said softly, closing the distance between them, “Giles told me that, but I didn’t understand,” she stood on her toes, looking up at him. She tilted her head slightly, so that her neck was exposed to him, and sighed when he closed his eyes and flinched, turning his head away from her invitation in disgust, “Maybe, in time, Giles can learn to change it, or teach it, or bind it, or…” she shook her head; this wasn’t sounding like it did in her head. He didn’t understand, but she wasn’t giving up, “something. But, until then…the last of it’s in me. I want to protect you, Spike,” she looked up at him again, and offered him her neck, “This is the only way I know how. I’m offering, Spike. Please let me…”

Buffy felt his hands in the center of her chest, felt herself hurling backward onto the sand, and heard his needlessly labored breathing, “No! I won’t do it. This isn’t the way, Buffy.”

She looked up at him, and saw the mixture of anger and love shining down on her from his amber gaze, as it glowed in the darkened sky, “Don’t you see?” she said, her voice strong and clear, full of conviction, “I’m stronger than you are,” Spike was shaking his head, but Buffy continued, nodding her head a little, “I’m sorry, but it’s true. You can knock me down, but the Slayer will always beat you. I’ll always beat you, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Spike. I love you too much to do that.”

“No, you don’t!” he growled, furious that she would not get up from the sand where he’d thrown her.

She’s giving up! No, you can’t do that. I won’t let you do that!

He ran across the sand, to the spot where he’d shoved her, and dropped to his knees beside her, “Don’t say that! I don’t want your love, not like this!”

The look of devastation and pain on her face made his chest ache. “Please, don’t say that!” he croaked.

“The Slayer will always win, Spike. It will kill. That’s what it does. It’s what I do,” Buffy looked down, suddenly overcome with shame, she whispered, “ I’ll kill you, Spike, unless you kill it first. Please, Spike, do it. I can’t hurt you… I don’t want to. Just do it!”

“No!” His voice was as angry and as sad as the wind that swept the lonely beach.

“If you won’t let me take it out of me, it will hurt you again. And, I don’t want to hurt you anymore. Don’t you understand that?”

How could I not understand, Love? I understand… “Buffy,” Spike said, as he held her, there in the sand, “please. I love you. If you tore yourself apart,” he kissed her face, and caressed her, in a forlorn dance of grief and a perverse joy; no one had ever cared enough…she was his light. If she took that away… “…it would kill me, Buffy.”

“You did it!” Buffy sobbed against him, breathing him into herself, “You did it, for me. You gutted yourself. For me. How is this different?”

“It is, Buffy,” Spike whispered as he rocked her gently, in the sand, “It just is.”

As she found herself whispering promises of love to the broken vampire she loved too much to see hurt, Buffy made herself a promise.

I swear, Spike, I’ll find a way to change it. Someday. I promise.