***************************************

When he opened the door, she gasped.

Nothing, nothing could compare to this; the arch of his eyebrow and the sinew of his arms ceased to be memory and became vivid again. Oh, he was beautiful, beautiful and sure and Spike. The fist around her heart unclenched.

He cocked his head, seemingly unsurprised by her appearance. “Buffy.”

Joy had never been a familiar emotion and it capsized her now. Rushing blood pounded in her ears, a wave of red that buoyed her in her sudden weightlessness. Her vision misted and grayed and even as the soundless roar in her head grew, she floated free. Light as air and ready to fly.

She didn't realize she'd collapsed until he hauled her up by the elbow of her thin cotton sweater.

He released her before she'd managed to stop swaying. She braced a hand against the doorjamb when he didn't move to steady her. Fainting was something she...did, these days; embarrassingly human and ordinary. Not exactly the image she was going for but maybe in a day or two, she'd remember it as flutteringly romantic rather than mortifying.

She wondered at what frailties he had accustomed himself to, now that he was like her. He seemed solid enough, though, standing before her with that strange unreadable expression. She reached out to him, those harsh cheekbones and tender lips. She was half-afraid he’d vanish like he had each night past even though she could now smell the tang of nicotine and saw the shadow his body cast over hers.

“You’re real. You feel so good.”

He didn’t flinch or pull away, but submitted to her caress with no discernible sentiment.

Without conscious intent she took his hand in hers and lifted it, entwining their fingers as they’d been the last time she’d seen him.

He disengaged from her instantly.

“I know – Dawn told me about what happened. To you. That you’re –”

“A real boy now? That why you’re here?”

She nodded urgently. “Yes. I want to help you. Dawn, too, we both just want to be with you. God, I’ve missed you. You can’t know how much.” He still didn’t say anything.

“Spike?” Abruptly she felt embarrassed, silly, for having this of all conversations in the hallway of a swanky apartment building. Spike standing there like he didn’t want to admit knowing her, like she was selling something door-to-door.

She had changed, she knew. He’d probably noticed the dark smudges beneath her eyes, the way her clothes hung off her unattractively. But he was here now and they could both heal.

“It’s late. You should get home.”

“I just…all right. Should you get some things? At least a few days’ worth…”

He stepped back, further into the apartment. “I’m not going with you, Buffy.”

“What?”

His eyes were cool and passionless. “Go home to your sister. And tell her she’s not welcome here either.”

“I don’t understand.” She waited for him to explain, make sense of his nonsense.

“You don’t have to.”

She was getting weepy again, taking in too-short hiccupping breaths while he just stood there and stared at her. “Why?”

“Why what?”

Why any of this, she wanted to shout. Why won’t you touch me? “Why didn’t you tell me you were…back?”

He shifted beneath her gaze. “Didn’t know I was supposed to send out a memo.”

“Don’t!” she cried. “Don’t be so – flip about this!”

He glared and looked past her, into the hallway. “Keep your voice down. I have neighbors. Go home, Buffy. I don’t want any trouble, yeah?”

Words she never, ever thought she’d hear from Spike. She clutched at his arm, knowing in a very far-off way that she must seem so pathetic. “Please. Please don't send me away, Spike -”

“Christ, you really want to do this the hard way?” Staring at her, he finally relented. So that would be a yes on the pathetic. “Whatever. See what you came here to see and then leave.” He stepped back to allow her into the apartment.

Dimly she heard the door click softly shut behind them. Looking around, she saw a room bathed in yellow lamplight, a few muted prints adorning the walls. A sprawling entertainment system and two leather couches. Beyond was a sparklingly pristine kitchen, and another hallway with two doors.

It was impeccably furnished, warm and inviting. And utterly devoid of anything Spike.

She turned to him. “What is this place? It’s not – it’s not yours.”

He smiled unpleasantly. “Right. Forgot I’m not to live aboveground with the rest of you lot.”

“That’s not what I meant. There’s nothing of you here.”

“Maybe you don’t know what to look for anymore.”

God, she felt so stupid and at sea. She scrubbed at her eyes. “How? How did it happen? I saw the Hellmouth collapse, the whole town…I watched it, Spike.”

“Yeah? Should have hung around for the second act.”

He moved to the gleaming bar, fixed himself a drink. No more swilling from bottles for him; he added two cubes of ice and sloshed the amber liquid in the glass before taking a sip.

“What have you been doing? Since then?”

He winked at her. “Hunting.”

Why wouldn’t he come to her? She was starving for him; surely he could see it in the way her empty arms wrapped around herself. “Are you mad at me?” she asked, and hated how small and weak she sounded.

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Just not looking to pick up where we left off.”

She tried to calm her breathing. “Okay. Okay, Spike, that’s fine because we’re going to start over, you and me. We have another chance.”

“To make the same mistake?” He shook his head. “Didn’t expect this from you, to be honest.”

She stared at him incredulously. “You didn’t expect me to come for you? It’s not the first time!”

“Didn’t expect you to go all fucking moon-eyed over this. We were never hearts and flowers, were we? Never a star-crossed romance. You always did like to pretty things up but I’ll tell you the truth once more, for old time’s sake.”

Even as he casually flayed her with his words she couldn’t tear her gaze from him, this Spike-mirage that taunted her in her barrenness and thirst.

“We brought each other a heaping share of pain and misery and I’ll not go back to it. Not for anything in the world.”

Desperation sent her across the room, turning his expressionless face to hers. “It was more than that and you know it! God, you’ve always known it and it took me longer but believe me, Spike, I’ve been taught. I’ve been taught.”

“I can’t give you what you want, Buffy.”

That couldn't be right. She only wanted his love.

“I dream of you.”

He laughed. “Lemme guess. Every night you save me.”

“Something – something like that.”

“Don’t bother.”

She watched, transfixed, at the way his throat worked as he swallowed the last of the scotch. “I couldn’t sleep at night for crying. I wanted you so badly.”

“Yeah?” He shook his head in a parody of sympathy. “I know the feeling.” Glass still in hand he walked to the door, held it open. “It’ll pass.”

Part 6: The Rules Of It's Over

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