A/N: Thank you so much to those who reviewed the first chapter! It really makes my day getting feedback, and I'm especially glad to hear you enjoyed it. And, since there was some interest, here is the morning after. It's shorter than the first part, and a lot less heated, but I tried to do justice to the dynamic between Spike and Buffy in season 6. Well, justice with perhaps a more pro-Spuffy twist. :)

Warning: If you read the last chapter, there shouldn't be anything here you can't read.

Consciousness tugged at the edges of her reality. Slowly sensations returned to Buffy's body, and an idea took form. She was back in heaven. A different heaven though, since she could feel here. Heaven was the only way to explain the sinfully soft, almost liquid, fabric that draped over her breasts so seductively.

A few moments passed, her eyes still closed, and her idea still in tact. And then she allowed her eyelids to flicker open and let reality take hold. The wall across from her, lit vaguely by a few dying candles was rough, that of a cave, or a crypt. A crypt. As soon as the word crossed her mind everything fell into place, and she froze. The night before came swirling through her mind to the forefront. Until she could think of nothing else.

There was a stillness in the bed, but now that she knew where she was, Buffy couldn't deny that she sensed Spike behind her, laying perfectly still, but watching her.

He had known the second she'd woken up. Her breathing had sped slightly up, and her body had shifted, almost imperceptibly. He had been waiting for it though, and now he lay on his side, watching her back tense and flinch, as he continued his wait for the reaction.

Spike had hardly slept, his mind running through the possibilities of the morning. She'd seemed perceptive the night before, almost willing, but he knew better than to expect that come daylight. He half expected her to be angry with him for not making sure she got home last night, for her to shout some rationalization about Dawn or her friends worrying. That thought stung though, and he tried to push it from his mind.

She knew she had been moved to Spike's bed, no doubt after she'd fallen asleep. She took a deep breath and tried to figure out if there was anything else amiss. It would be morning now, almost at least, and other than the skirt she was still wearing, and a bra thrown somewhere on the upper level, she didn't even have clothing to make her way home.

But did she want to go home? Spike was waiting for a reaction, and she knew he'd know she was awake. He was being patient, but he wouldn't wait forever, not after last night. And Buffy, for the life of her, still didn't know how she wanted to react.

In the past she'd shout at him, act angry and offended, and mid-tantrum throw a punch to his nose and make her exit. It was a habit, and it had served her well, more or less, so far. Even if sometimes she felt a slight twinge at the pain in his eyes. The truth of the matter was that last night wasn't like any others they'd shared.

The fact that she wasn't even sore was proof enough of that. They'd only been together once that night, far less than usual, but it had been something more. It hadn't just been sex. It hadn't been physically powerful, it had, if anything, been quite the opposite. It had been tender and gentle, but somehow stronger than anything they'd had before. There had been something beyond the physicality and it had shaken her, and she didn't know what to do.

With Spike usually when fighting didn't work Buffy turned to sex instead. But she knew she couldn't just roll over and have another go with him. She couldn't dirty what they'd had like that, by jumping his bones now in their usual volatile way. It would feel wrong, and she felt more right than she had in a long time.

That left one option… talking. When she'd come back from the grave, that had been what Spike was best for, for listening to the words she couldn't say to anyone else. Maybe he could do that again. Letting out a soft sigh she finally broke the silence and spoke. "You shouldn't have done that…" Her voice was hoarse from sleep, but soft. She wasn't yelling, or angry, it wasn't even accusatory, more… warning, perhaps.

"Yeah?" It wasn't an agreement, or an argument. It was a question, a prompt. He needed her to say more, to explain what she meant. But she wasn't even sure she knew.

"It's not supposed to be like this." Buffy said, her voice even softer this time, barely audible. Her fingers began to fidget with the edges of the silk sheets nervously.

"An' how's it 'sposed to be, pet?" Spike asked. His voice was quiet as well, but even in the softness a shaky uncertainty could be heard. He wasn't angry either, but he certainly wasn't happy. Then again, this was probably as much as he could expect, a conversation. It was just a matter of where exactly this conversation was going.

"I don't know… I just…" Buffy's body began to curl up more, shaking slightly, and she knew she'd be crying soon, the tears already starting to form in her eyes. She did her best to steady her voice though, hoping Spike wouldn't notice the cracking. "it's just all wrong. Everything's all wrong, Spike."

As she said his name, she felt her resolve breaking. Her shaking became more severe, and her pursed lips let out a soft gasping sob. She refused to wipe her eyes though, hoping that if she didn't move Spike would ignore her tears.

But he knew what was happening, and he couldn't ignore it when the woman he loved was crying, no matter what was happening between them. He inched forward, though he didn't know how she'd react to his touch. Leaving a gap between their bodies on the bed he placed his hand on her upper arm softly, massaging it slightly.

There were a few sobs, but Buffy did her best to hold them back. Soon she had reeled herself in, and only her slightly ragged breaths broke the silence of the crypt. Spike waited, letting the silence drag on, comfortably, between them. Finally he spoke. "What do ya want from me, pet?" His voice was uneven as though he was struggling to keep it calm despite swelling emotions.

Buffy reached her hand up across her body and clasped onto his, taking it from her arm to hold it tighter. He squeezed back, and finally, she turned over to face him.

Finally the pair could see one another. Spike was shocked by how small and frail his slayer looked here, like this. Her skin was so very pale where it peaked around his dark red sheets, as though she hadn't quite shaken her death yet. Her eyes were full of tears that perfectly matched the streaks already covering her cheeks. Even her lips seemed chapped slightly. This wasn't a girl with answers. She was strong, and she'd bounce back soon enough, he knew that, deep down he'd always known she wasn't the sort of girl you could break or destroy. Still though, this girl, laying in front of him, gripping to his hand as though it were her only lifeline, was a girl with questions, and little else.

"Forgiveness." The word was simple, and she said it with a certainty that seemed foreign to her. Still though, Spike didn't know how to react. He raised his eyebrow, clearly not knowing what she meant, and held her hand slightly tighter. He was afraid that she meant that she wanted to act as though last night hadn't happened, that it'd never happen again. But she shook her head slightly against the notion.

There were so many things to say, and she didn't know how to speak with Spike. "Remember… do you remember when I first came back from… when I came back?" Her volume had increased, but so had the tremors in her tone.

Spike only nodded his head, not wanting to interrupt whatever she had to say. He needed to know where she stood, what she wanted. Because whatever it was, against his better judgement even, he'd be there for her. That was just how he was, how he'd always been.

"I could tell you things… you never… you were just there… you know?" Her eyes were pleading for understanding, for acknowledgement, and so again he nodded his head and squeezed her hand, urging her to continue.

"I was so numb…" She choked on the words, and paused, pulling her free hand to her face to stifle the sob as it escaped. Her eyes shut tightly, squinting against the onslaught of repressed emotion. "I…I…" She tried to speak again, but she couldn't seem to make herself. She was breaking down, falling apart here in the bed of what should have been her enemy.

Spike sensed her desperation and quickly slid forward, closing the gap between them. He released her hand, and instead pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in his embrace. Much to his surprise, she didn't fight him. Much like the night before, she instead curled up, and let him hold her. She let him be her comfort, when she could find no other refuge.

After the worst of the sobs had passed she pulled her head slightly backwards, so that her words wouldn't be muffled by his chest. She stroked a hand down the ivory planes of his naked torso, noticing for the first time that he'd left his tight denim jeans on the night before. No doubt trying to make her as comfortable as possible. She found herself smiling softly at the idea, a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"You're the only one who knows how to make me feel." She finally admitted, looking up through her eyelashes to meet his eyes and gauge his reaction.

"Is that…" His voice shook just as hers had, and self doubt plagued his features. "Is that ok?"

A soft laugh broke the tense air. "Ok? It's.. it's amazing, Spike…" She smiled at him, sniffling slightly as she did so.

A tentative smile reached Spike's face, and slowly spread as she said nothing against it. And soon it was a full grin, and his arms held even tighter to her form, as though she herself embodied this moment and he was desperate not to let her, or it, go.

"Just.. last night…" Her smile had faded, and she wouldn't meet his eyes again. His own smile disappeared almost instantaneously, and his arms released her, falling until only his fingertips still rested on her body.

"Out with it, slayer." Spike said, his voice defensive and rough with untamed emotions.

"No, please, Spike.. just… just hear me out…" Her voice was rushed now, and overflowing with need. She reached out, her hand grabbing his arm, just by his shoulder, as though trying to keep him there, with her, trying to keep him from getting defensive and angry.

"This is bloody well real, slayer." Spike said, pulling his arm backwards, away from her clutches. "Wont' have you tell me different, either. Know you felt something last night. Have to be bloody daft not to."

Buffy opened her lips to protest, but he cut her off, shaking his head and pulling away even further in the bed. "Don't you dare go off telling me what I can't feel, pet. Soul or no, I never had a problem loving. Just cause you forgot how to when you died doesn't mean we all did!"

As soon as he said the words, he wished he could take them back. Her face fell, and hurt couldn't even begin to describe the betrayal on her features. He reached out his hand to grab her arm, and an apology was nearly to his lips, but she'd pulled back harshly.

She was standing now, out of the bed, arms crossed over her chest, covering her exposed brests as her eyes scanned the room for something, anything, to cover her properly. "No.. no, Spike. You're right. I… I wont' be bothering you again." Her words were slightly garbled by her crying, but she didn't let herself hesitate in delivering them.

"Buffy, wait, please. I didn't… I didn't mean it, love!" Spike was begging. He stood up from bed quickly, striding across the crypt, reaching out yet again for her. But she pulled away, refusing to even meet his eyes, so he let his hand fall. He couldn't force her, not after what he'd said. He deserved her walking out, and he knew it.

"Bugger all!" He finally shouted, turning quickly on his heels to pace beside the bed, opposite of Buffy. His eyes stayed fixated on the floor as he paced, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, working out some seemingly insurmountable tension that was being housed there.

At the sound of his shout, Buffy stopped her search for clothing, and looked up at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. "You're right…" She whispered. But he heard, he always heard, and he looked up, meeting her eyes with uncertainty.

"No." He said, his voice firm and resolved, he shook his head as if to drive home the point. Stepping slowly towards her, he continued, "I was wrong, love. I'm always wrong. Never been one to think with my head, pet. I say things I don't' mean. I didn't mean it. Really."

"When I…" Buffy paused, still struggling to say what needed to be said, but seeing the desperation she felt reflected back in Spike's eyes, she found the words. "When I came back… back from Heaven… I wasn't right." Spike looked like he was about to protest, but she raised a hand and hung her head to silence him. "I'd forgotten. Forgotten everything… forgotten what living meant…"

Spike continued to walk forward, but Buffy's eyes remained focused on the floor, unyielding in their gaze. "Feeling.. it hurt. It was so.. so harsh. I thought that was all it'd ever be. I was sure. I was sure the hurt was all I'd have. And then…"

She took a deep, shaky breath, pushing the hysteria from her tone, and looked up, raising her head to look into his eyes. He had closed the gap between them and now stood only a few feet away. "Last night…" Her voice cracked again, and he seemed to understand that this was hard for her. He reached out his hand and delicately pushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, encouraging her that he was there.

"Last night everything changed." She finally admitted, her eyes holding his gaze with a strength and fire that he hadn't thought possible just a few minutes earlier. "I… I felt something strong… something good…" Tears were starting to swell in her eyes again, but this time her lips were curling gradually into a smile.

"You.. you said… that you saved me… every night.. while I was gone, you saved me…" Her eyes seemed searching, as though she wasn't sure she'd really heard him say the words. It had been the night she'd come back, and memories of that night were still harsh and surreal. But his head nodded, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw tense with confusion. "Last night… you did."

The tears wouldn't stay in her eyes any longer, and began to carve paths down her cheeks, but she wasn't shaking this time. She wasn't convulsing under the weight of the emotions. Instead she was reaching her arms out, steady as ever, to wrap around his shoulders. "You.. you saved me."

The motions were slow, and tentative. It was as though she wasn't sure he'd let her, wasn't sure that this was ok. But he lifted his hands too, allowing them to find a familiar resting place around her waist, perched just above the curve of her ass. They waited there a moment, frozen in thought. Neither wanted to push the other, to assume anything about the situation.

They'd rushed too often lately, and ended up dreading the fallout. This was, much like the night before, special. And that was something they couldn't risk losing. "What now?" Spike asked, knowing he couldn't proceed without the answer.

"Well…" Buffy's cheeks began to flush, and her eyes darted around the room, not quite meeting his. "Its probably still light out…"

"Uh huh…" Spike agreed, not sure what she was trying to say.

"And… well… my shirt is ruined…" Her voice drifted off, and she looked up once more to meet Spike's brilliant blue eyes.

Just as he was about to offer her his duster, or one of his own shirts, he realized what she was getting at. "Shame, that…" He voiced, his voice low and breathy as he pulled her body in tighter.

"Yeah, so-" But whatever explanation Buffy had planned to offer was silenced by cold lips against her own warm ones. The kiss was full of passion, full of fire, but it was slow, and tender, and held promise neither had ever felt.

They were both nothing but moths, and this flame could very well be their demise. But they would fly to it anyway, despite any so called better judgement they might hear. Because they may be moths, doomed by the candlelight, or they just might be phoenixes, destined for the blaze. Either way, together they'd burn.

A/N 2.0: So, that's the end. I can think of nothing more to add without really just detracting from the whole of it. I hope you all enjoy it, and I hope the second part lives up to any expectations you may have had. Feedback is always appreciated, so please let me know what you think!

Thanks for reading,

AgainstHope