Buffy wandered around the graveyard. She’d been patrolling for an hour now, and no vampires had risen - or even showed up. She knew she should probably go home, but she decided if she went home, she’d do nothing but think and mope - about HIM. It had been the most difficult thing in the world for her to do - to tell him they couldn’t be together, or even see each other. The hurt in his eyes was like a stake to her own living heart, but - Spike had been right. Spike. Of all people. Well, of all vampires.

Yes, she still loved Angel. And, obviously, he still loved her. Despite the events of the past year, that was something that couldn’t just be swept away - and it was the one thing that was the most likely to bring them both down. She had to do what was the best thing for them both - and for everybody, by extension. It meant compromising her own true happiness, but, she WAS the Slayer. It was tragic really - but she’d deal. After all, she had everyone else’s problems going on around her - there was plenty to keep her busy. As for the slaying though...this was a slow night. She decided to head home, but she suddenly had a feeling that something was going to show up. She looked around cautiously, but nothing seemed to be around - at least not yet.

She saw a concrete bench in front of her - which, once she got there, provided a fairly decent view of what was - or wasn’t, as it were - going on. She sighed and sat down. Humming to herself, she tapped the stake in her hand on her knee, keeping time.

"Come on, undead - rise already!" she whispered impatiently. She just had a sense that something was going to happen, and to sound like Giles, it would be remiss to go home now. She yawned. Well, she hoped whatever was going to happen would hurry up and do so, because she’d be just as inclined to just go to sleep right there on the bench, and that would almost certainly be the death of her.

Literally.

"Come on, come on, come on,..." she said, a little louder than before. Maybe they just weren’t hearing her. She was tempted to yell just to get her point across.

"Come on what?" the voice behind her said. She jumped up and was into fighting stance automatically. She swiveled around and saw a vampire. She had him with a right hook before he knew what was happening. He landed with a thud on the ground, holding his jaw. Buffy looked and her eyes got wide.

"Spike?" He groaned and stood up, holding his jaw with his hand.

"Well, yeah. You mean, you didn’t realize that was me? Geez, Slayer, that meant the world to me."

Buffy took a step back. "What’s going on? Why are you back? I thought you were going to go back and get Drusilla?" Something in his face told her something had gone wrong. She waited.

Spike took out a cigarette and lit it up. He inhaled deeply, shaking his head. "Well, yeah. That WAS the plan. I really thought it’d work, y’know? I drove everywhere lookin’ for her and I finally found her. Did a few vicious kills, tortured a few with the old railroad spikes and for a while there, I thought I ‘ad her. Even tried torturin’ her - like I said. But all she said was ‘Spike, it can never be the same. You’re not the same Spike. We can’t ever be together again.’ And that was that. So, I had nothin’ better to do. Figured I may as well be where she wasn’t and do some damage elsewhere. Here was as good a place as any. Didn’t expect to find a Slayer delivered to me so easily." He spoke harshly, but it was obvious the problem with Drusilla had really hit him hard.

Even so, Buffy wasn’t sure about where he was going with this. She decided to be especially on guard.

"Easily? Well, as I recall, Spike, you’ve had plenty of opportunities to make short work of me - and it hasn’t been quite as easy as you expected. How’s that jaw?" He gave her a highly unimpressed look and sat down on the bench where Buffy had just been sitting. "Aw, c’mon Spike. Give me something to do here. I’m bored out of my brain - I may as well get SOMETHING done." He shook his head.

"Dru’s not around anymore. Take the night off; I’m not in the mood for fighting."

Buffy was stunned. This was something she expected him to have said back when he had Willow and Xander hostage at the factory - when he wanted Willow to do the spell to bring Drusilla back. Maybe he should’ve gone through with it.

The sound of Spike clearing his throat loudly brought her out of her reverie.

"What? Huh?" she said, startled. He laughed at her.

"Yep, she’s awake. I said - where’s your ‘friend’? Uh, that would be Angel." She looked at the grass beneath her feet. "What? Slayer? Hello?"

She couldn’t help it. She started to cry. She turned away from Spike and started walking in the other direction.

Spike, meanwhile, was as shocked as he could ever be. He’d obviously hit a nerve. He could probably kill her right now - her being so vulnerable and all. But to see the Slayer so helpless - it had thrown him off his game. Probably couldn’t fight worth a damn now anyway.

"Slayer?" he shouted. "Slayer? Come back!" But she walked onward, ignoring his shouts. "God, this is ridiculous." he said under his breath. He got up and walked after her.

He got closer, and it was as if she didn’t even care he was there. He took a deep breath.

"Buffy?" She turned at the sound of that. Her face was red, and her eyes puffy from crying.

"What?" she said shortly, still looking at the ground. Spike rolled his eyes.

"Look," he said. "Don’t take this the wrong way. We’re still mortal enemies, no mistake about that. But, I’m sorry. Whatever I said, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?" She showed no sign of responding, or even reacting. He decided to let it go. "Alright, Slayer, I’m going. I’m sorry, and I’m going. Next time we meet up, let’s make it a decent fight, alright? Goodbye." He turned to walk away.

"You were right." He turned back at the sound of her currently-pitiful voice.

"What?" he said. She nodded.

"You were right. All along. How is it that you were the only one that I couldn’t convince?" She laughed softly. "That says something for you, Spike. You’re obviously NOT as hard-hearted as you’d like people to think. The whole thing with Dru wouldn’t have got to you so much if you were. Not to mention the fact that I pretty much had everyone else convinced that he and I would be okay. Nice work."

Spike couldn’t believe this. He WAS hard-hearted, well, okay, except when it came to Dru. But, he’d loved her...still did. He wasn’t stupid. Seeing the way the Slayer and Angel had been - it was still there. It was pathetic - but it was there. So patently obvious. "What did you do, Slayer?" She sniffled and looked down. "What?"

"I told him we couldn’t see each other. You were so right. I still love him. He’s the same with me. But it won’t work. It’ll never work." She started walking back to the bench, where she collapsed in a heap, crying as though there were no tomorrow. Spike followed her, stunned.

"Slayer, really - you don’t want to listen to me! Well, okay, I was right - but I never said anything about it not working out." She looked up sharply.

"Well, no, Spike but come on - Slayer and vampire? We’ve seen what can happen - I can’t let that happen again. It’s just too great a risk. People died because I made one huge mistake - I owe it to everyone - not just myself - to make sure everything stays right. Well, as right as anything can be in Sunnydale."

Spike was silent. He got out another cigarette and lit it up, inhaling and wondering what the hell could be done here. Admittedly, he felt for her. She was suffering as he was suffering. And it hurt like hell, not that he’d been there. He began to speak.

"Well, at least someone knows how I feel - even if it IS the bloody Slayer." She laughed, though her tears. "Me and Dru - I thought it’d be forever, I really did. She meant the world to me. But something changed when Angelus came back." He looked out the corner of his eye at her. She looked devastated. "Slayer, it wasn’t your fault. How could you have known? There was no way. I don’t blame you. But everything changed. You know all I wanted was to have her back - the way we’d been. Why else would I have struck a deal with you? But she wasn’t convinced." He laughed, taking another drag on his cigarette. "Sad, isn’t it? The best laid plans...She was everything."

"So was he." Buffy said softly. They both fell silent, remembering.

She remembered that last kiss - illicit though it was, when he was still in hiding. She hadn’t meant for it to happen. She hadn’t WANTED it...oh, who was she kidding? The love she had for Angel was so strong it scared her. But she remembered it, because that was the last thing she could remember - the sweetness of it. The way it had just happened...bringing back all those memories of before...before Acathla, before Angelus.

Spike, meanwhile, was thinking about Brazil. The way she’d changed - even when he did everything for her. One night, she had come to him, and it was then that he’d had a glimmer of hope that the break between them wasn’t irreparable. She’d whispered to him "My Spike...my little Spike." And then she’d kissed him, and his heart soared. She still loved him! It didn’t matter - she still loved him. And then...

Then she’d broken the kiss and slapped him across the face. He opened his eyes with a start. To discover the Slayer no more than a nose away from him.

He jumped back with a start. Buffy did the same.

"Ohmigod." They both said. In unison.

Spike turned vamp, and growled. Buffy turned...and ran away. He made no move to follow her. Buffy ran and ran and ran until she was safely in her bedroom.

And she paced.

"How did THAT happen? How could that POSSIBLY have happened? God!"

Back at the graveyard, Spike was sitting back down on the concrete bench. How he’d managed to go from remembering Dru’s kiss to actually kissing the Slayer was beyond him. He knew why it’d happened, though.

They were both in the same boat. It was pathetic - he knew it - but it was true. Both of them had lost the loves of their lives - undead or not. He took one last drag off the cigarette, threw it down and crushed it into the ground.

He hoped she’d get over it. She’d never be worth fighting if she didn’t get strong again.

He headed home.

It was nearly sunrise - and he’d played with fire and already been burned. He didn’t fancy it happening again.

The End