Spike was walking slowly back to his crypt, after patrolling for nearly two hours, when he realized he was talking to himself. "Patrolling my ass, you were just waiting for your slayer to show up so you could come to her rescue like a bloody knight in shining fangs," he said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Its not like she’s going to thank you for telling on what’s his height." He took one last drag on his cigarette and flicked away the butt, hesitating to enter his crypt. He’d spent half the night looking for her, so that he could apologize. He actually felt bad about what he’d done, showing her how Captain Cardboard spent his nights away from her. He had practiced his apology speech several times, but not seeing her all night and not even finding some nasty demons to kill violently had soured his mood.

He started pacing outside his door, restless, his mind still focused on his slayer. Every time he saw her lately he made a complete fool of himself, either by getting flustered and messing up his words, or by doing something embarrassing like getting caught stealing photos of her. "And suddenly my life belongs on Passions." He placed the back of his hand against his forehead in a mockery of a damsel in distress and said in a high falsetto voice, "Oh Spike, save me from a life without love, decent conversation, or satisfaction in bed!" Rolling his eyes he pulled out his smokes, not even realizing he was still talking to himself, and finally entered his crypt. "And do I get any appreciation for my troubles? A word of thanks? Of course not, the bloody slayer-" he stopped short when he saw her sitting in his musty green armchair. "Is in my crypt. Do make yourself at home, slayer. There’s wine on the table and plenty of blood in the fridge, if you’d like to make your presence any less welcome." He felt like an idiot when she shot him a hurt look. He didn’t mean that, but he had a tendency to let himself speak before he thought. He waited a moment for her to state her purpose, slap him around a bit and then leave, but she didn’t. "Really, love, do we have to play twenty questions or are you going to tell me why you’re here?"

Buffy had no idea what to say. She had come to Spike’s crypt to fight with him, to maybe work off some tension, to yell at him for making Riley leave. She knew it wasn’t Spike’s fault, per se, but she was convinced that had he not shown her Riley’s extra-curricular activities, she would be at home in bed, cuddling with Riley right that moment. That thought had cost her five minutes on the way over here; it had also caused the puffy redness around her eyes now. She suddenly knew down deep that coming was a mistake, that Spike would see her vulnerable and start to pick on her again. She really didn’t want to have to stake him. But right now she was pretty convinced she’d have to. She’d been convincing herself a lot lately. She was convinced that Riley leaving was Spike’s fault, that he would use her vulnerability against her, but mostly she was convinced that she would live her short slayer life and die a horrible death, never knowing love again. When she felt the tears welling up again, she saw Spike start to ask her what was wrong, but she silenced him with a piercing look. It was a full minute before she got a hold of herself enough to speak. "I want to know how long you knew."

"How long I knew what?" She sent another sharp look his way reinforced by many hateful thoughts. "Oh, right. That. Well, not long. Only a night. I came to you the very next night." He decided to play it straight for once in his unlife, in hopes of gaining brownie points.

"How did you find out? What are you a regular?"

Buffy looked at him accusingly, and Spike realized he couldn’t play it completely straight. "No, I’d never been there before," that was true, "But I was passing on my way home and saw him go in with the chippie you saw him with." That was purely fiction, but he couldn’t have her knowing he was watching her house. Nervously, he took a drag on his almost forgotten cigarette, wondering what she’d ask him next.

But Buffy became silent again, thinking about what she’d seen at the vamp nest. She closed her eyes against the picture and took a deep breath to steady herself. She would not let Spike see her cry. She would not let him have that ‘good day’ he spoke of not so long ago. Exhaling slowly, she asked her next question before opening her eyes. "Why did you have to tell me?"

Understanding flooded Spike followed quickly by anger. "I see how it is, slayer." Buffy’s eyes shot open at his menacing tone. "Rather have a shag-pal than a relationship? He was lying to you with every breath he could muster, but you’d rather have him than nothing right? Well, I’m sorry love, but I couldn’t just stand by and let that prick hurt you like that!" He’d been yelling, not really thinking because he was so angry, but once what he’d said hit him, he tried quickly to cover it up. "That’s my job, you know."

Buffy was unconvinced by his backpedaling, however and tried to catch his eyes, but he refused to look at her. "Spike what did you mean?"

He met her eyes, trying to look annoyed, and threw her a careless smirk that looked half angry and half anxious. "Its my job to hurt you slayer. Once this bloody chip is out, I plan on killing you right and proper, and I can't do that if some pillock makes you all weepy and you off yourself." His words sounded like a lie even to him.

Buffy stood and walked to where Spike was leaning against the wall, eyes darting around looking for an escape, trying not to look terrified. "Tell me," she said quietly.

Spike took one look into her warm hazel eyes, still red from her earlier tears, and he melted. He sighed and reached up with one hand, brushing his fingers along her check. She looked confused, but not repulsed and Spike felt boldness creep through his dead veins. ‘In for a penny,’ he thought randomly. "Bloody hell, Buffy. You didn’t love him. I saw it every time you were together. You flinched every time he reached for you. You liked him, sure, but there was no electricity, no heat. You need heat in your life, you need someone who knows you, who understands you…who can challenge you." He paused before he continued, mustering the courage to say the words. "You and I, pet…we are equals. In every way. I…I would never hurt you like that, I would never lie to you like that Buffy."

He looked into her shocked eyes a moment longer before he leaned down and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. Not wanting to push her, he closed his eyes and pulled away, inhaling deeply as he did. Her scent surrounded him as he waited for her to respond. He expected to be punched, staked, or at least slapped by the petite blonde, but instead she simply moved away from him. Sensing her movement, he opened his eyes in time to see the crypt’s door closing. Banging his head against the wall, he muttered, "Fuck."

Buffy wandered through the cemetery at a slow pace, half shocked by Spike’s admission, half hoping he would come after her. She knew all the reasons that that thought was wrong, but she didn’t want to be alone right now. She’d felt the emptiness all week, from the moment she saw Riley in that place, and she didn’t want to feel it anymore. And why not Spike? He’d been as much a help as a pain this past year, and while that wasn’t saying much, it was an improvement. He was as good looking as his grandsire and had a sexy accent to boot. It was fun trading barbs with him, and she never had to hold back when fighting him, like she had to with Giles or Riley. She sighed when she thought of Riley, her heart aching at having been left again, having been betrayed again. "At least this one didn’t kill anyone before he left," she said sadly to herself. Then she shook her head, trying to find a pattern in those who had left her.

The Bronze was coming into sight and Buffy decided to find the guys, hoping maybe she could shake off her mood. Her thoughts turned back to Spike as she approached the club, a small smile went unnoticed on her lips.

Careful to remain out of sight, Spike watched Buffy as she walked from his crypt to the Bronze. He noticed with some amusement that a lopsided smile had formed on her beautiful lips and he felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long while. Hope. He entered the club a few minutes behind her and found a seat in the shadows. He watched as his Slayer found the red-headed witch and the ever present whelp. It was like old times with just the three of them dancing, he mused, remembering the first time he had ever seen Buffy. She’d been there, at the club, dancing with her friends, much as she was doing now. And almost four years later, here he sat, watching her still, admiring her form and her moves still. The only difference was the way he felt about her. Hatred and death plots had been replaced by love and ideas on how to woo his slayer.

That was another thing, he thought. When had he started calling her his slayer? Only in his thoughts, of course, had that nickname for her shown up, but it had stuck nonetheless, and he felt oddly compelled to make it true. Sure, he probably had hurt his chances, made himself look a fool, by telling her everything but "I love you" when she was still hurting from soldier boy, not ready to hear his confessions, but it felt good to get it off his chest. He just wished it was him out there dancing with her, instead of that insolent boy.

A half hour later, Buffy was actually kind of enjoying herself. Just her and the gang, just like old times. When things were simple and all she had to worry about in her life was slaying. No boys, no hurt feelings, no sex turned my boyfriend soulless, no one-night stands, no Spike kissing her. A fast song came on and the tempo of her dance increased. Not for the first time that night, she felt eyes on her, moving along her body, watching her. She turned in slow circles to see who was staring at her so hard. It wasn’t long before she met a pair of dangerously attractive blue eyes and realized who it was.

Spike noticed her hesitate as she saw him and he shifted under her gaze. She didn’t look away as he expected, but continued to dance. Spike simply sat and watched, feeling as though she was dancing just for him. A low growl started in his throat after a moment, and he got up and approached her.

Buffy was frozen. Spike was walking directly towards her, both baby blues fixed unswervingly on her. She could do nothing as he stepped up beside her and took her hand in his.

Both were speechless as the song ended, but Spike spoke quietly as a slower song started. "I don’t deserve anything from you and I can't promise you anything. But I understand you and I will never hurt you. Never." He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed the pulse point on her wrist. "Dance with me, Buffy." He pulled her into his arms, resting his hands on her hips. She was still breathless from his words and almost as an instinct, slid her hands up his muscled chest and around his neck, without taking her eyes from his. She recognized the song almost immediately as a Fiona Apple. Both of them listened silently to the lyrics, both relating a little too much to either the singer or her supposed audience.

Both grinned, seeing Spike’s own imposing presence in the line. Neither broke their seemingly charmed gaze, as the song continued.

The words struck the dancing couple suddenly and Buffy faltered tearing her eyes from Spikes and putting her head to his chest instead. Spike immediately wanted for her eyes looking into his, longing for the intimacy in the shared look. But as she pressed herself into his embrace, he closed his eyes and enjoyed holding her, knowing it would probably be the only time.

It was then that Spike realized that his slayer was crying. He felt the wetness through his standard black t-shirt, but couldn’t bring himself to do anything but hold her tighter, afraid to end the moment.

Willow and Xander watched in silence, neither knowing what had happened between the two enemies, but both sensing a change.

Buffy’s emotions were muddled all together and she felt so confused. She missed Riley and she couldn’t understand why he’d done what he’d done, but she also felt comfortable and safe in Spike’s arms. Could he have been right? Had she really never loved Riley? Her heart sank when the thought rang true. She hadn’t loved him. She cried a little harder into Spike’s chest and felt him tighten his grip again. And her heart swelled. But she was just lonely and confused right now….right?

Spike felt his slayer cling to him tightly for a second and then she pulled away from him to look in his eyes.

As if on cue, he bent down and kissed away the tears on her right cheek.

The song faded out and Buffy stammered for words, unsure of how to feel after their emotional dance, and she finally backed away slowly, saying, "I’m sorry Spike." He barely heard the last word, as she turned from him and ran. He started to run after her, when he felt someone at his arm. "What the hell did you do to her?" Xander demanded. But Spike was saved by the witch, whom he spared a grateful look. "Xander, don’t," she said quietly, pulling his hand from Spike’s arm, freeing him to go after Buffy. His slayer.

What was she doing? There was no way she had feelings for Spike. It was Spike for crying out loud, and it was also ludicrous. A vampire – make that a soulless vampire – was not the perfect love she’d dreamed of. She’d had a normal love with Riley, physically and mentally. And emotionally, or so she’d thought. She had always thought they were okay. But then he left her bed to go have a skanky vampire suck his blood. Buffy sighed loudly, unable to keep the fresh tears from coursing down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly. ‘All of my relationships end because of sex or vampires,’ she thought and laughed harshly and cynically.

Spike heard the pain-filled laugh and headed toward it, catching up to Buffy. "We need to talk love," he said, startling her. She spun around in fight-mode, fists raised and ready to strike. Recognizing him, she didn’t put her fists down, instead she punched him in the nose, anger suddenly coursing through her. He fell backwards from the blow, looking up at her through startled eyes.

"And what exactly would you like to talk about, Spike? How about the cruel joke that is my love life?" She held up a hand when he started to speak. "No, really, lets analyze this, shall we? My first love – and only, it turns out – just happens to be a vampire, someone I am destined to kill. I get all kinds of shit for loving him, my friends hate him, my enemies hate him, but I just can't help myself. I loved him that much. A little too much as it turns out and a one-night overdose of that love turns him into evil-killer-boy, who tortures and murders my friends for fun. All Buffy’s fault. To redeem myself, I selflessly kill him for the greater good. You remember that story, don’t you? Any thanks? At all? Nope."

Spike wanted to stop Buffy’s tirade, to hold her and comfort her, to yell at her to stop being self-indulgent, to do anything but sit on the ground where he was and stare up at her helplessly. She continued. "Oh wait, there was a reward. He came back from the dead just long enough to break my heart by leaving me, so I could have a normal life." Another harsh, mirthless, laugh spilled from her lips. "What a laugh, right? A slayer with a normal life? You were right, you know, when you said we would never be friends. But enough about Angel…next there was Parker, you remember him right? The one who used me for a night and then told half the campus how inexperienced I was. You were there for the end of that little joke, too. Next, Buffy finally finds a nice normal secret intelligence gun-toting boy from Iowa, sweet and sincere. We date and he falls in love with me. What else could a girl want? But then, about a week ago, if you’ll remember, you let me in on his one dark secret. Well other than the torturing demons in a government lab thing. That he gets his kicks by letting vamps suck his blood. I really can pick ‘em, huh?"

She stopped and took a ragged breath, exhausted emotionally, now that her rant was winding down. Spike finally stood and went to put a comforting arm around her. Before he could, she looked up, and he snapped back his arm, embarrassed. "And now, you." She shook her head. "I know I will never have a normal life. I was chosen a long time ago not to be allowed a normal life. But this is Outer Limits stuff. You can’t – you can't really…"

He smiled at her softly, understanding her inability to say the words. "You can say it, Buffy. I love you." It felt so good to say it that he said it again, quieter, and mostly to himself. "I love you." She stood away from him, thinking, and it was torture for him. Her hair hid her face so he couldn’t even watch her expression. He wanted this to be over and either have her in his arms or gone for good, he just wanted it over so badly.

"You love me," she said under her breath, then met his eyes. "You know I can’t do this. I did the vampire with a soul thing and he hurt me so badly, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. How can I trust a soulless vampire and expect to live through it?" He watched her take a deep breath, and exhale slowly, as if preparing for something terrible. And he knew what was coming. "I don’t love you, Spike." She saw the pain etched in his features and she felt remorse almost immediately. She could have said that better.

Silently she took in her companion, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight, his eyes downcast in pain. She realized something slowly and found herself walking over to him. Surprising him, and herself, she reached up and ran a hand through his hair. His shock dissipated and he leaned into her touch. "But you’ve always been there. Haven’t you Spike? A voice of reason in my irrational love life. You were there when I killed Angel and you were the one who made us realize we would never be friends. You were there when Parker dumped me in the quad and you were the one who pointed out Riley’s little habit." She ran her hand down to his cheek, where he covered it with his own, his eyes closed, as if afraid to hear what was next. "You really do love me." She hadn’t completely believed it until just then.

With his eyes still closed, he answered, "Yeah, I do pet. I have for the longest time. I didn’t know it when I helped you with Angel. Dru knew before I did. It was torture to see you wasting your beauty on that scum, Parker, and Riley. I know I can’t take that pain away, love, but I’ll never-" He opened his eyes, when Buffy placed a finger on his mouth to stop his words.

"Shhhh. Don’t. Never is a promise, remember? You already said you couldn’t promise me anything. And besides I don’t think I can handle anymore broken promises….I don’t want to hurt you, Spike, but you know this. You know I don’t love you," he looked down again, but she caught his eye. She smiled at him then, the first smile he’d seen on her since she entered the Bronze, and it was like the sun was shining on him. "But you are right. You know me, understand me. So don’t make me any promises, okay? Just tell me…just tell me you love me…and that you’ll try."

She saw his eyes grow big with surprise and his mouth turn up in a grin as he took her into his arms. He hugged her, not wanting to let go, not wanting the moment to end. He thanked a god he hadn’t believed in for a hundred and twenty years and leaned in to kiss Buffy. His Slayer. He poured all of his passion and angst into the kiss, trying to express how much he loved her and how much she meant to him. When he pulled out of the kiss, she was breathless, and he met her eyes, searching them. "I’m not completely soulless, you know, love." He brushed an errant strand of hair from her eyes. "I have you."