Part Two

It had been eight days since he'd seen her.  Eight self-imposed days of exile.  Every time he did this to himself it almost killed him, being away from her.  But he did it.  Because this one thing he did was the only way he knew to remind not only her, but also himself, just what he was willing to do to be with her.  And for as long as she lived, for as long as he lived, that's what his whole world revolved around, being with her.

So, for eight days out of the year, every year for the past ten years, he left her.  He never told her where he went and she knew not to ask.

He had never told her a lot of things.

Like how, ten years ago, before the deactivation of his chip, he had felt like little more than a vampire version of Captain Cardboard.  Without the nifty little horizontal perks that Commando boy had enjoyed.  Sure, he had been grateful that Buffy treated him like a man back then, but he knew her.  Better than anyone.  She had accepted him as a friend and tucked him away in that neat little labeled box, even trusting him to a point.  But that was all she would allow. 

As long as he had that chip in his head, that was all that Buffy would ever allow.

Oh yeah, he knew her.  And he understood her.  Buffy's deepest fears, fears she never admitted to anyone - not even herself - were broadcast to him with an ease and clarity that defied reason.  But he never questioned the knowing. 

Spike knew that as long as he had that chip in his head, she was comfortable with him.  She didn't have to examine what his behavior really indicated.  He was a serial killer in prison, as she had called him once.  She didn't have to face the ramifications of being wrong about that because he could never prove it.

So he'd been forced to take action.  Knowing that he risked his very existence, he had gone to Giles, another thing that he had never and would never tell Buffy.  Spike smiled wryly when he remembered the horrified reaction the Watcher had when he'd explained what he wanted from him.

After all, it wasn't every day a vampire pleaded with a Vampire Slayer's Watcher to persuade the Watcher's council to try to find a way to get the chip in his head either deactivated or removed.  A chip that prevented said vampire from hurting or killing humans. 

In the end, it was Glory - that vicious Hell God from the bitch dimension - that had been instrumental in saving Spike from being staked right then and there.  It had only been about seven months after the Glory incident, and Giles well remembered how devastated Spike had been that night, how much help he'd been in the events leading up to that night.  Something in those memories demanded Giles at least hear the vampire out, even if he ended up staking him anyway.

But after listening to everything Spike told him, he hadn't staked him.  In fact, Giles had been almost convinced that the vampire wasn't trying to return to his evil ways.  Almost.  It took a witch and a whelp to bring him the rest of the way.  Spike had offered to let Harris tie him to a chair, stake in hand if he tried anything, while Willow cast a truth spell on him.  That's how much it meant to him.

He wasn't really surprised when they took him up on it, and even now, ten years later, he winced at the reminder of just how enthusiastic Xander had been in his roll of designated vampire trusser upper.  Spike had ended up with some wicked rope burns on his wrists and arms when it was all over.  Thankfully, his kind were known for their excellent recuperative powers - that wasn't all they were known for, of course, but he tried not to focus on the negative.

When Giles heard the truth from Spike, knowing beyond doubt that it was the truth, he didn't know what to do.  Spike had proved that he had no desire to hurt any of them, to hurt anyone.  His love for Buffy had, in fact, given him something remarkably similar to a conscience.  It had fascinated the Watcher in him enough to proceed with Spike's wishes.

Giles went ahead and contacted the Watcher's council with an interesting offer.  Taking full responsibility, and guaranteeing them that he would kill Spike himself if anything went wrong, Giles made his proposal based on the offer Spike had made. 

The vampire would allow Giles to turn him into a blood drinking guinea pig.  He offered himself up for whatever kind of testing or profiling Giles deemed necessary, would give a full account of every detail of his existence down to the most insignificant crumb, if the Watcher's council would pull whatever strings necessary to get the chip in his head nullified - however it could be done.

It was a ground breaking and irresistible offer, being granted full access to the inner mind and unlife of a demon, although the council had needed Giles' assurance that it would be the Slayer, not him that would hunt the vampire down if anything went wrong.  Giles had hastily, if a little guiltily, agreed.  The guilt was because he had no intention of ever letting Buffy know what his role had been in this.  Neither did Xander or Willow, actually.

That worked in Spike's favor, though.  He certainly wasn't going to tell the girl.

The word had eventually come down from Travers, the pompous and sanctimonious...but cagey and intelligent, head of the council.  They had agreed to assist the vampire, to form a tentative alliance of sorts.  And they gave Spike the name of a person who could deactivate the chip for him. 

That's when it all really started.  Spike had left that night for Los Angeles and was back in Sunnydale before the sun came up the next morning, chip neutralized if not actually removed.  He promptly holed himself up in an abandoned warehouse as far away from the Slayer and her gang as possible. 

For eight days he prepared for the coming battle.  Trained, fed - on the same packaged blood he'd been drinking before the chip got zapped, he didn't hunt, he wouldn't hunt - and then trained some more.  He needed time to prepare. 

There was never a question that to be successful, Spike would have to fight for his life.  If he wasn't at peak performance, she would kill him.  Hell, even if he was, she could still kill him.  But that was what it was all about.  That's what it needed to be about.   

So, with one last demand of the vampire, a demand proposed by Xander, actually, the plan was set in motion.  Xander had insisted on being there for the fight that Spike had willingly admitted to planning - before the truth spell had been cast.  Xander insisted that He and Giles both be there, hidden but watching, when Spike went into battle against the Slayer.  And if it looked like he was going to change the rules mid play and made a move to kill her, they'd dust him then and there.

Spike hadn't liked the idea of an audience but he'd agreed.  It was the only way.  And he had known that it was him, not Buffy, that was really risking anything here.

Buffy wouldn't know that Spike had no intention of killing her.  So, not only did Spike have two overly protective - and crossbow wielding - men watching his every move, he also had a Slayer that would do everything in her power to dust him when the fight went down.  And if anyone could do it, Buffy could.

Spike was the one with everything to lose.  With one decision, one choice made to follow a different path, he had risked his existence, the love that he had waited over a century to feel, his new friends...as odd and human as they were, and the trust of a young girl that had come to mean just as much to him as her big sister did.  

That's why now, ten years later, he was standing alone in his old stomping ground, underneath a tree outside of what used to be his home.  He grinned to himself as he slipped off the Cartier watch and tucked it into his inside jacket pocket. 

A lot had changed in ten years. 

Sure, he was still clothed in his old standard, black jeans, black boots, black tee shirt, long black jacket, but these were clothes he only pulled out once a year, now.  Like dressing up for a costume party, except there was nothing festive in the look at all. 

Normally, his everyday attire was a bit more upper class than what he was currently wearing.  He was, after all, rich as sin. 

As it turns out, the man that had been a bloody awful poet over a hundred and thirty years ago had become a vampire with a flair for storytelling.  And when Spike was searching for something to do to occupy his time during the day, more than a year after the fight that had changed both his and Buffy's lives forever, he'd started jotting down some of his more tame stories for Nibblet. 

He recalled that Buffy hadn't been terribly pleased when they had given the then seventeen year old nightmares for weeks on end, but she had come up with the suggestion that he use his stories to try to do something - and she actually used the word 'good', which was rather ironic, really - to carry his weight around the household.  It wasn't as if Spike could work a counter at Burger Barn after all, as he himself had pointed out once.  So Buffy had suggested he try to sell his historically factual stories about demons and monsters...as fiction. 

There was quite the market for it.  Spike sold more books than Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and all the rest combined.  Darkly erotic tales of terror and evil and redemption, Spike's books touched a chord with his audience.  Horrifying, haunting, mesmerizing, his readership grew to shocking levels. 

That the author of these masterpieces of sinister fantasy had never been seen in public, that nothing was known about the 'man' that wrote under the assumed pseudonym Spike, made him even more popular.  And the money just rolled in. 

Most of the time, Spike just laughed about how amusing and gullible his human fans were, so cloaked in darkness.  Keeping eyes tightly shut about the truth of the world around them.  But the money was nice.  And he could support the people he loved in style - not that they really cared about that. 

There was one time, a few years back, when Anya, the little day trading genius that she was, had asked him if he loved his money as much as she loved hers.  He had shrugged at her and gave her a half smile.

"Keeps me in blood and beers." 

No one ever mentioned it again. 

So he was different.  Things were different.  Life was different.  Nothing ever stayed the same.  But once a year, for the anniversary, he had always returned to a rigid set of self-determined rules. 

Same eight day separation, in which he did nothing but train, feed - again, only packaged blood, he hadn't fed from a human since before the chip had been shoved up his skull...though Xander had tried his resolve on more than one occasion in the past - and train some more.  Same clothes.  Same location.  Same night.  Same girl, though she was a woman now.  Same fight. 

He was a creature of...habit.  And the celebration of everything he won that night deserved no less.  You see, Spike hadn't lost the fight - obviously.  In fact, he'd won more than he ever dreamed remotely possible, ten long years ago now.

And he remembered it like it was yesterday.

~*~*~*~*~*~

During the eighth day of his preparation, Xander had slipped into the abandoned warehouse, looking guilty and more than a little depressed.

"How long you gonna make her wait?" He'd asked.

Spike had been pummeling a punching bag at the time, trying to work through the pain of being away from the girl he loved by punishing the inanimate object mercilessly.  He used the unending ache in his chest as fuel for his training.

"Dunno.  Figured I'd try to do my best to not get staked through the heart.  To do that, I need to be prepared.  She's stronger than me, ya know."

"Yeah, well, she's not feeling too strong right now, you ask me."

Spike stopped his pounding and grabbed the swaying bag in front of him.  He tried to sound casual, but his stomach had twisted sharply at Xander's words.  "What do you mean?  She's all right, inn't she?  Nothin' bad's gotten a hold of her?"

Xander had snorted ruefully.  "Oh, she's fine.  Miserable but fine.  Making our lives miserable, but, hey - what's wrong with that, right?  Disappearing without a trace, not letting us tell her that you're at least all right.  She's been pretty hard to live with, Spike, and I'm not real happy about the decisions you're making here."

Spike turned and glared balefully at the morose young man.

"You think I'm happy 'bout this you're dead wrong.  This is the hardest thing I've ever done, Harris.  It's easy bein' evil, it's easy bein' bad - specially when you've got no soul to make you feel guilty 'bout it.  Bein' good, doin' good is harder.  But I've changed, can't help it.  It just happened.  And it's not that I'm tryin' to be good so she'll love me.  I've made a choice to be good because I love her - and Little Bit.  And yeah, I've even grown fond of the rest of you weird bunch of Scoobys."  Spike smirked.  "Cept for you, of course."

Xander finally grinned a bit.  "Of course.  Wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"Be a bleedin' tragedy, that."

The shared amusement waned and Xander became serious again.  "She thinks she hates you, thinks you betrayed her trust.  You are not on the tops of her best fiend list right now."

Spike barked out a dry chuckle.  "Best fiend list, eh?  No, don't imagine I am."

Xander didn't know if he should tell Spike what he really thought.  He didn't know if it would make it better...or worse.  In the end, it didn't really matter.

"She says she hates you, but she doesn't.  She misses you and she's afraid something bad happened to you but she's denying it to herself - and she's taking her anger out on us."

That stopped Spike cold.  He stepped toward Xander slowly, searching his face for the truth.  "She misses me?  Really?  You're not just sayin' that?"

"Spike, come on.  Do you think I'd come here just to brighten your day?  Cuz I'm really thinking not.  She misses you, and she's afraid for you.  I don't know how much longer she's gonna be able to hold it together."

That decided Spike.  He could handle his own pain, being separated from the woman he loved, but he couldn't bear the thought that she was in pain.  It was time.  It would just have to be enough time.

"Fine.  Right then.  We'll go tonight, that soon enough for you?  Can you get her to go to the crypt?"

Xander nodded, knowing that all he would have to do was show Buffy how she was really feeling - just like he'd done one time before.  He'd been too late to help with Riley, but that was probably for the best given the stuff that happened later.  Spike was made of stronger stuff.  He clung.  Like soap scum, but still.  Now, if he could just stay alive...or...undead...or...whatever.

"She's probably going to kill you."

Spike stared at Xander with absolutely no expression on his face whatsoever.  Finally, after long, tense seconds ticked by, Spike nodded slowly one time.

"I know."

There was nothing left to say, Xander left Spike to whatever preparations remained. 

On his way out the door, he looked back.  Spike stood with his back to him, head and shoulders slumped.  And then, as if coming to some internal decision, Xander saw the vampire draw in a deep, unneeded breath and square his shoulders purposefully.  His head came up and he swung out again at the punching bag that had already seen so much abuse.

Xander closed the door quietly behind him, shaking his head at the lengths the vampire was willing to take to get his message across to the woman he loved.  But Xander knew, of any woman on the planet, Buffy was worth it.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He'd done what he needed to do that night.  He'd let the demon in him have full sway over his actions and the battle between the Slayer and him had been long and brutal as a result.

And almost fatal.  That stake in his chest had been one very near thing.  But finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he had her right where he wanted her.  Really right where he wanted her, though not exactly in the frame of mind he would prefer her be in while he was nestled between her legs.

But the fight was only the first part; it wasn't an end in itself.  Now he had to let her know what it meant.  And hope that she wouldn't stake him just for the hell of it after.

He held her down and glared at her with his demon gold eyes, then lunged for her throat where, instead of biting her like she assumed he would, he licked her.  That was actually just a spur of the moment bonus that sprung to his mind.  She tasted so good, salty and hot.  It thrilled him, burned his senses, almost pushed him over a sexual peak right then.

And he still just pulled back and looked down at her, shaking off his demon face.  Choosing the right road.  It wasn't even hard, really.  And that had kind of been a surprise - a pleasant one.

She'd been understandably confused when he hadn't killed her.  She stared up at his human face and tried to get her mind around what was going on.

"Wh-what?  Spike?  What the hell...get off me!"

"Oh, I don't think so, Buffy.  Not just yet, anyway.  One, I happen to like this particular position, what with finally bein' between your legs and what all, and two...well..." his amused and sarcastic expression faded away and he stared down at her with all seriousness, "this is the only way I know that you'll really listen to what I have to say."

"I said get off me, Spike.  I'm not listening to anything you have to say.  You're a monster."

Her words cut into him, but he wouldn't let her go.  She had to finally get it.

"Yeah, I am a monster.  Never denied that.  But guess what, luv.  You're not dead.  You could be, I could have sunk my fangs in your warm little neck just now, but I didn't.  And now it's your turn to finally admit what that means, no matter how much it scares you."

Buffy glared at him with suspicion and venom in her eyes.  "Spike, I'm warning you, if you don't get off of me-"

"You'll do what, Buffy?  Wound me with harsh language?  I have somethin' to tell you, somethin' to explain to you and for once in your bloody life, just keep your mouth shut and LISTEN!"

Okay, so he'd lost his temper a bit...but he was what he was - a man in love with a woman who, right now, detested him.  And he was sore, and wounded, exhausted physically and mentally, and sick in the heart.  But hey, at least she'd stopped talking.  Sure, she was glaring at him with hostility and he could almost feel himself turning into a big pile of dust at the sharp pointy sticks she was mentally shoving into his heart - fellow can't be too choosy, though.

"You never got it.  All the time you've spent shovin' me into a warm, fuzzy little box - treating me like a man, a friend, you never got it.  Deep down, you just wouldn't let go of the idea that I'm nothin' more than a serial killer in prison.  Because if you did, if you ever questioned that, you may have to open yourself up to somethin' your petrified of."

Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes.  "I get it.  Haven't we played this scene before, Spike?  Sure, I'm not chained to a wall in your crypt, and you're not chipped - but it's the same damn thing."

"No.  It's not.  I'm not here to try to prove something to you.  You needed to see the truth.  I'm a full vamp now, luv.  No more a cautionary tale for good ole Spike.  Coulda drained you dry.  I didn't.  And now you have to face the fact that you were wrong in everythin' you ever believed about vampires.  That thing you're petrified of...it's the knowledge that evil isn't a given.  It's a choice."

That had come from left field, and Buffy was suddenly very confused.  She practically snarled at him.  "What?"

"I can't help bein' a monster.  Comes with the vampire package, that.  But, Buffy, I'm not evil.  Haven't been for a while but you couldn't see it - thought it was the chip that was holdin' me back.  Don't have a soul, don't want one, but I still have a choice.  You never wanted to be faced with that possibility and it scares you senseless."

"Really not following, Spike."

Spike sighed.  This wasn't going to be easy.  Not that he ever thought it would be.

"Took me awhile to catch on, gotta admit.  But I finally figured it out.  It's not that you were afraid that if I got the chip out, I'd go back to the maimin' and the killin'.  Oh, sure, that's what it was originally and you've convinced yourself that's what it still is.  It's not.  You haven't let me in because you were afraid I wouldn't."

When she looked like she was going to interrupt him again, he rolled right over her words.

"You were afraid to find out that vampires can chose the path they take.  Most of us choose evil, I grant you.  But a choice it is, luv.  You don't want to believe that, though, do you?  Because you're deathly afraid that you would have to admit to yourself that Angelus could have made the same choices I have, but he didn't."

Spike thought he'd had Buffy securely captured beneath him.  He should have known better.  As soon as he mentioned Angel's soulless alter ego, Buffy went ballistic.  He was thrown off her body before he had a chance to prepare and he crashed quite painfully into a headstone several feet away.

Buffy was up on her feet, feral rage shining brightly in her eyes, and one pointed stick firmly in her grasp.

"Shut your mouth!  You don't know the first thing about that.  Don't you even say his name, Spike, or I swear to God I'll stake you right here."

Coughing up a bit of blood, Spike got to his hands and knees.  "It's always about him, Buffy.  It's what you measure the rest of us against.  Vampires and men.  But it's wrong.  He is the one that you shouldn't measure any of us against."

Buffy stalked over and stared down at Spike for a second before bringing her leg up to smash into his chin.  The vampire flew back and landed hard again.  He stared up at the cloudless sky a second before rolling up to his feet.  His game face was trying to force its way forward.  He wouldn't let it.

"Dammit, Buffy.  Look at you!  You can beat me into a bloody pulp, stake me, kill me for good but you aren't strong enough to look into your heart and see the bleedin' truth!"

She practically screamed at him.  "What truth, Spike?  Tell me what truth!  You seem to have all the answers, spell it out for me!"

Spike stepped forward, knowing full well she could stake him at any time, and grabbed her upper arms in a strong grip.  He searched her face for something, any glimmer that she was finally getting the message he was trying to send.  It didn't look promising.

Knowing he was out of options, he sealed his fate.  Spike's head swooped down and claimed her mouth in a searing kiss.  She tried to pull out of his grasp, he held her tighter.  She tried to turn her head away, he shifted his grip and wrapped one arm around her and sent his other hand to fist tightly in her hair, holding her head in place.

And the assault on her mouth continued.  His tongue invaded, but she tried to bite him.  He pulled his head back just enough to growl in frustration.  "Let me in, Buffy.  Let me in, please, luv."

Stormy, tawny colored eyes clashed with passionate blue ones.  Pride, hurt, anger, and confusion danced in the depths of the tawny pools.  Heat, desire, and a hunger that had nothing to do with blood swam in the blue.  When he lowered his head again, slowly but just as desperately, he brushed his lips gently against hers.  It was a question and a promise in one. 

Something within Buffy, some part she had buried deep into the recesses of her heart, responded to the gentle caress despite her mental protests.  Her lips parted slightly, and Spike's cool tongue wasted no time gaining entry.  Question became fiery demand; promise became sworn oath.  It was a heady feeling and one that even Buffy couldn't resist.  She was swept away by the sensation and finally, grudgingly, surrendered to the longing inside her.  Longing she'd never admitted she felt for the sexual creature in front of her.

Spike had been granted a view of paradise with that kiss.  He shook under the intensity of the feelings it inspired in him.  God, he loved this woman.

But she didn't know, yet.  She hadn't got it.  He pulled his head back, his eyes roaming over her flushed face.  He could hear her erratic pulse throbbing at her neck and her quick, panting gasps for air. 

"The truth is that you love me and you know it.  But you won't let yourself feel it.  Won't let it penetrate that glass box you keep your heart locked away in.  Let him go, Buffy.  It wasn't your fault.  Angelus couldn't make the choice - he couldn't.  Angel's soul twisted his mind.  Made him worse than he was before, and that was bad.  You saw it - saw how he loved the torture, drank in the torment.  He punished Angel for his soul because he'd been punished by it."

Buffy's body was trembling and she couldn't make it stop.  Spike's words pounded her, battered her heart and mind.  Tears swelled in her eyes.  The only thing keeping her upright was his embrace. 

"Look at me, please, luv."

Her eyes met his again and she could see emotions that people didn't even have names for shining brightly and intensely in them.

"I love you, Buffy.  I'm not Angel and I'm certainly not Angelus.  I don't have a soul twisting my mind, nor do I have one to lose.  I'm free to make my choices.  And you know what - even if you never let me into your heart, it won't change the path I've chosen to take.  I'm not doin' this to get you to love me.  I'm doin' this because I love you.  That's what's changed me.  And it's not goin' away.  I've fought against it for so long I can bloody well guarantee that.  I won't be wakin' up one mornin', takin' up with bad habits."

Spike felt her body shaking and he released her slowly, dropping his arms to his sides and stepping cautiously back and away.  He was slightly encouraged by the fact that she didn't move to plunge her stake in his heart.

"Now you know.  And maybe, one day, you can trust me enough to let me in.  Not like I'm goin' anywhere, right?  Tried to push me out 'nough times to realize that, I expect."

Continuing to retreat, he watched Buffy stand still and alone in the cemetery.  Turning away from her when she was like this was going to be the hardest thing so far.  But he had to.  He had to give her time to process everything he dumped on her tonight.  He tried to make light of his departure.

"I'm just gonna be takin' myself out of stakin' range now, luv.  You need me, you know where to find me.  I'll be around."

With a spin and a flare of his long black duster, the vampire had disappeared into the shadowy darkness of night, and Buffy was left, standing alone in the cemetery.  She had nothing but the echoes of his words rambling ceaselessly in her head to keep her company.

~ Continue to Part 3 ~

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