Her hair was silver in the moonlight and as fine as the strands of a spider's web. Buffy had lightened the color over the past summer and had doggedly kept up with the bleaching even as the year had progressed and her attention and energy had been drawn elsewhere. Spike wondered if she was aware that her hair was almost as pale as his now. Yet it didn't feel the same at all beneath his fingers; while his hair was coarse and dry, hers was soft and silky. It was longer than it had been when... before, and he thought that it suited her. But, then, even the shadows under her eyes and the pinched corners of her mouth suited her. She would always be beautiful to him.

Could you... stay here? Will you just hold me?

Spike had never expected to hear those words come from her mouth, not after... not ever. And yet here he was, holding her close, his hand stroking through her hair and down her back as she slept in his arms.

No, ow, ow! Please, Spike! Please don't do this!

He flinched at the memory and forced himself to relax as Buffy murmured against his chest. He resumed his caress, and she settled back into sleep.

He didn't deserve her trust. As much as he was sorry, as much as he loved her, he knew that he could never make up for what he had done. He had abused what little piece of her heart he had ever held, and despite the soul she should have shut the door in his face when she had seen him again. Instead she had taken him in, saved him more than once, and had eventually built him back up to where he could stand on his own two feet and hold his head high. It was far more than he had deserved.

Please, Spike! Please don't do this!

No, not shut the door in his face. She should have staked him right and proper, if not immediately then after he killed again. She shouldn't have hesitated, but she hadn't dusted him. She had fought to save him even against the urging of her friends, even when he, himself, had argued with her.

You faced the monster inside of you and you fought back. You risked everything to be a better man.

Having the soul didn't make it any easier for him to separate himself from his past; it didn't wipe the slate clean. Yes, the soul hadn't done all of those horrible things, but he had. He was still Spike, and Spike had spilled an ocean of blood and had reveled in it. Spike had cared for almost nothing but himself. Spike had hurt the one whom he had loved the most.

Please don't do this!

A better man? It sure as hell wouldn't be difficult to be better than he had been.

Buffy shifted again, and he stilled as she slid her arm around his waist and burrowed against his collarbone. He buried his nose in her hair and felt his eyes pricking with tears as he inhaled her scent from a proximity that he had thought he would never again be able to enjoy.

Ask me again why I could never love you.

As the emotions of the long journey with Andrew and the altercation back at the house began to bleed into exhaustion, Spike settled back further into the pillows and cradled Buffy against his chest. She tightened her grip around his waist but did not wake, and he dared to kiss the crown of her head.

I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman.

And she was. Buffy could be temperamental, pig-headed, and brittle, but she was also good-hearted and unbelievably strong in mind as well as body. She was a hell of a woman. How he could ever have wanted to kill her was beyond his comprehension. She was utterly amazing, and she had made him want to be so much better.

Spike only wished that he had not fallen so far before he had finally seen that he would never be able to be more than a monster.

Please, Spike! Please don't do this!

Could you... stay here? Will you just hold me?

There was no doubt that Buffy was better than he was and that she always would be. There was no doubt that he would never be able to match the goodness of her heart or her spirit. She could do things that would always be beyond him.

Could you... stay here? Will you just hold me?

Buffy might have come to trust him again, and she might have been able to forgive him for what he had done to her, but, soul or no soul, Spike never, ever would be able to trust or to forgive himself.

~end~