Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from BtVS.

Remember When

Chapter Sixty-Three

Spike was hungry. It had been three full days since he had eaten. He couldn't abide pig swill. It wouldn't be natural to feed on the slop when fresh blood straight from the tap was now back on the menu.

There was nothing to it. A vamp needed to eat. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and picked up the pace. He'd get a spot to eat at The Bronze. More than enough nibbles to choose from there. He'd be quick. In and out. No one would even know he was there. Then he'd hit the road like he should have done days ago.

"Spike?"

So deep into his thoughts, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Joyce rounded the front of her Jeep, her monstrously huge purse slung over her shoulder and wearing something flirtier than he was used to seeing her in. She obviously just parked and was heading into one of the restaurants lining the street.

She wasn't out hunting him down. Not like the rest of them. Spike checked the street just to be sure she was alone.

She walked right up to him, which told him immediately, that the Slayer was yet again keeping her secrets. If Joyce knew the truth she would run the other way.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?" She raised her hand as if she was going to press it to his brow and he flinched away. What the soddin' hell was wrong with these women?

She did a quick scan of him from head to toe and frowned. "You look thin. Have you been eating?"

He stared at her. Even if she wasn't in the know, she couldn't possibly be serious.

"Come with me." Without hesitation, she looped her arm around his and started walking toward a cheery little coffee shop at the corner. It was only natural he walk with her.

"Aren't you on your way somewhere, Joyce?

Blood tinted her cheeks. Spike held his breath, waiting for the demon to roar with hunger. Not even a twitch, the lazy sod.

"I'm on a date."

Spike raised a dark brow and looked around pointedly.

"I was on my way to meet him at that new Italian place up the street. I know better than to allow some man I just met come to my home. These days you can never be too careful."

Her heat was warming the entire side of his body as she spoke. Her pulse steady, not even a flicker of anxiety. Too careful, his arse. The woman was a victim waiting to happen. Without pause she turned into the shop and dragged him toward the counter where a bored teenage barista was waiting.

"A small mocha. Decaf." She turned to Spike. "It's too late for caffeine," she offered almost apologetically. "Black house blend for you?"

He nodded, watching her carefully as she completed the order.

"Does the Watcher know you're on a date?"

Joyce lifted her chin, her mouth firm. "What business is it of Mr. Giles, if I'm on a date?"

That dark brow of his rose even higher. Interesting. He never claimed to be the most self-aware bloke, but he knew when he was having a feeling here and there. These two adults though, they were doing the tango through Denialville.

"Shouldn't you be on your way then?" Joyce wasn't the kind of woman who stood her date up. She was unfailingly polite. Even to the monsters.

"No." She turned her head to look him straight in the eye. "Family is more important than some blind date."

Warmth bloomed in his chest, and it left him feeling cold. It was unfair of her to make such a statement when it wasn't true. Unfair to dangle something so precious in front of him, when they both knew that they being family was an outright impossibility. It left him feeling mean.

"You want to be family, Joyce?" His voice dropped an octave, turning silky as he flashed her a hint of fang. "I can make you family." Luring her out back would be easy. No one would know she was missing immediately. They'd probably check her date first, make sure he was legit. The scoobs wouldn't suspect him right away. After all, if they were smart, they would assume he had already left town. He should have left town already…

Joyce could easily get to the rest of them. Who would suspect the mother? She could bring those little scoobie snacks to him one by one and he would finally have the family he dreamed of.

He stalked closer to her, the tails of his coat swishing. She frowned at him, picked his coffee up from the counter, and shoved it at him. He was forced to grab it or end up with third degree burns.

"Don't be ridiculous, William. We're already family." She picked up her mocha and took it to the stools in front of the window, glancing at him expectantly as she took a seat.

He was not her dog. He didn't have to obey her. Nothing was stopping him from just walking away. The Bronze was only a few blocks down the street. Once he had his meal he'd be on his way out of town like he should have days ago.

"Now," Joyce said as she settled into her seat. "Buffy told me you killed a man and then ran off before she could stop you."

Kill me, more like.

"She, bloody well, told you?" Spike was stuck somewhere between horror and outrage. If Joyce knew he was on the hunt again, shouldn't she be running to the hills? The woman was no idiot. After all, she practically held a knife to him when she threw him out of the house the last time he could kill unfettered. Yet, here she sat, pretty as she pleased, sipping her damned decaf mocha and looking at him like he was a recalcitrant toddler who needed to get his fit out before he'd mind his manners again.

"Of course, she told me. Buffy and I have been working on having an open and honest relationship since…well, you know." Shadows of grief and terror flittered over her pale face. Spike shifted his weight. He didn't want to remember a time when he had been a white hat without the chip forcing him to behave. He didn't like to think about the choices he made of his own free will, and how it didn't quite line up with his thinking now.

Exactly how open and honest, Spike wanted to know. Shouldn't there be a line between how much a daughter told a mother? It seemed to him that there should be. He hazarded a glance at Joyce's steely gaze and wondered if maybe she didn't know about the line. Or if she insisted on crossing it on a regular basis. Joyce was definitely a line-crosser, he decided.

Spike leaned back in his seat, spreading his knees to put himself on display, and leered. "That's right, the Big Bad is back."

Those frown lines on Joyce's brow become more pronounced. "Don't make me wallop you in the head again, William."

Reflexively, Spike folded up, protecting his important bits. He wished she would stop calling him William. It wasn't his bloody name.

Joyce took a sedate sip of her mocha, the thin bracelets she wore tinkling together. "So, what are you going to do?"

"About what?" He could hear his East End accent deepening and knew he was getting agitated. It was best to remind her how bad he was. Remind her he was Spike and not William.

She leveled a look at him. Let her look. It wasn't as if he had deep waters. Vampire and all. He slide his lighter from his pocket and began flipping it open and closed, losing himself to the repetitive sound.

She waited him out, her silence like claws down his spine. "Going to leave, aren't I? Haul arse out of town and get on with living my unlife."

"And what kind of life will that be?"

He leaned close, flashing fang. "Hunting. Killing. Proper vampire, and all."

Joyce didn't so much as flinch as she took another sip of her coffee. "I see. That's how you want to live your life? Will you go back to Drusilla?"

"Hell, no! We're done. I'm my own man now." He glanced out the window, watching as the humans scurried about, eager to get home and out of the dark. It was funny how habits die hard. Here he was completely free to move about in the sunshine, see if he would freckle. Yet, he waited to hunt until it was dark. Waited for the shadows to whisper and hiss at him to play.

"Then you have friends you can meet up with?"

"Vampires don't have friends!" he snarled. No one in their right mind befriended vampires. They were the half-breed leaches of the demon world. Spat on by most other demons. And humans. Well, humans died one way or another.

"You're very social. You need to have friends and family around you."

"All my family is gone." He continued to stare out the window. Most of his line was dead. All that was left was Angel, who hated him, and Dru who couldn't love him.

"Your family is right here in Sunnydale." She placed her hand over his, and it was so warm it nearly scorched him. All that humanity inside her just bursting to get out and burn him up.

He jerked his hand away. "Vampires don't befriend humans. We eat them. I don't know why it's so hard for you lot to get that through your thick skulls!"

"You're not going to eat us," she said mildly.

"And why is that?"

"Because you choose not to."

He slammed his hand against the counter and she jumped, finally showing a proper reaction. "It's not a choice! It's biology. I am what I am and there's not cure for it. There's no stopping the demon inside me. One day I'll make a meal of you and because I'm a selfish bastard I'll turn you and make you mine. Then I'll go after your daughters one by one, collect them like pretty dollies and put them on my shelf. Make myself a proper family for once."

She stared at him like he'd gone mad and his guts squirmed. He didn't like that look on her face. He didn't like how sick his words made him feel. If he had left town when he should have, he could have avoided this. Avoided her look of terror and disappointment.

"I'm such a blind idiot. I've gone about this all wrong." Joyce covered her mouth, bracelets jangling at the abrupt motion.

There it was. Not quite the reaction he was looking for, but close enough. He expected her to jump up and run off screaming for Buffy to come slay him. He just laid out his worst desire to her and now she was finally getting it.

"Gone about what?" Leary, Spike leaned back in his seat, unsettled by the unpredictable woman, despite his efforts to run her off. He wasn't afraid of her smacking him in the head – this time – but her words could be just as hurtful when warranted.

"It's not that you don't want to change. It's that you don't believe you can change." She gripped his hand between hers. "But you can change. You aren't just biology. You're not just your demon. You are free will. You are choice. You are Spike, William the Bloody, whoever you chose to be. You're you."

He jerked his hand away. "I haven't a soul, Joyce. I'm a monster not a man. There's no choice in that."

"Not having a soul doesn't mean you don't have free will. You can chose how to live your life."

He could tell she honestly believed that. That he could choose to live like a man instead of a monster. Hadn't they all treated him as such? Eventually, even the Watcher and the Boy treated him like a man. It made him forget for a time, but there was no escaping the truth. He was a monster through and through.

"I can't tell right from wrong."

"Pish posh." She flicked her fingers at him. "Knowing right from wrong just means knowing the rules. Yes, you might have trouble with the finer points, but it's not something that can't be learned."

The woman was off her rocker, talking as if being human was a learned skill. The old nature versus nurture argument. Utterly ridiculous! A wolf was still a predator no matter how many pats on the head it received.

"Humanity isn't something that can be learned."

"Absolutely, it is. You know what the most selfish creature on the planet is?"

"Your wanker of an ex?"

She laughed and it lit up something inside him. Joyce was a serious woman. She had too many hard knocks in life. It felt good to make her smile. "Well, yes. But I'm talking about toddlers. Babies. They want what they want. They hit and scream and bite until they get it. They don't care who they hurt. Have you ever had a firetruck thrown at your head? Babies are vicious little creatures. They have to be taught empathy. Taught that their actions hurt others. Taught right from wrong."

"Do not compare me to some sprog!" He couldn't believe the brass of the woman. Did she really just compare him to a tantrum-throwing toddler? Did she expect him to drop to the ground and roll around in a fit?

"I'm just saying that you making the excuse that you don't know right from wrong is ridiculous. Of course, you know. You are a full grown man. You just need some impulse control."

Was she serious? He liked Joyce. He did. Even if she was delusional. He always had a soft spot for the crazy ones. "The demon makes that impossible." She needed to understand what a threat he was. He couldn't be trusted, because he wasn't the one calling the shots. He wasn't the one in control.

For the first time he picked up on her discomfort. She gazed out the window at the scurrying people, her bracelets jangling quietly. "Did I tell you that a few years ago I joined AA?"

He stared at her blankly for a moment. He heard of it. Not his favorite hunting ground. He preferred the taste of a little booze, and maybe a bit more, in the blood. "Alcoholics Anonymous?"

"It was before we met. I made some bad decisions. There was a man, Ted. The details aren't important. But I knew that I couldn't go on as I had. I needed to make a change for my daughters."

Yet, another wanker? She clearly had bad taste in men. Mayhap he should swing by the Italian place on the way out of town. Vet the potential wanker she was supposed to meet. "I don't see how this applies, Joyce."

"During the meetings many people speak about the 'demon' that rides them. How addiction is a monster inside them, and they spend every second of every day fighting it for control. I know from experience that it's a fight that lasts your entire life."

He frowned at the woman across from him. She always seemed to be perfectly controlled to him. Mostly. Even when she was whacking him upside the head there was a certain grace to her actions. He couldn't imagine her a falling down drunk. Certainly, not someone who was fighting for their life beneath their outwardly calm surface.

"I'm a vampire. Not an addict. Blood isn't a drug. It's a necessity."

She sighed, clearly thankful to move away from the topic of her own weaknesses. Or as Spike saw it. Her strengths. "Yes. Blood is a necessity. Hurting people isn't."

Although, her self-righteousness was definitely a mark against her. He now knew where the Slayer got her snotty, holier-than-thou attitude. "You have no idea what you're talking about," Spike snarled.

"I know what it's like to struggle with a demon inside. I know how devastating it is to lose the fight. But I also know how even the smallest win is important. For those who are counting on you, but more importantly, for yourself."

He stood. He needed to get out of there. Needed to get some fresh air. Needed blood. The good stuff. Uncut and pure. Straight from the vein. "It's not the same thing. Not even close. I don't have a choice."

She stood as well, blocking the exit. "You always have a choice, William"

Then the woman bloody well leaned in and hugged him. She smelled like chocolate coffee and vanilla perfume. She smelled sweet and loving. He gagged, bile rising in his throat. Throwing her off, he ran for the door without looking back.

8888

Spike squatted in the alley, his entire body wracked with shivers. He was so very hungry. He needed to eat. Food was right there, a few steps away on the street where pedestrians hurried from shop to shop. All he had to do was reach out and snag the nearest warm body. Sink his teeth in and slurp them down like a lolly on a hot, summer day.

Then, when he was feeling up to par, he could go about created his family.

The Golden Rule, right? Family first? Joyce was so intent on mothering him, then she could go on doing it for eternity. The memory of his own mother drifted through his mind, and the sick feeling nesting in his guts since his run in with Joyce rose in his throat again.

His family were waiting for him, tucked away safe in their beds. There was a good chance his invites to their homes hadn't been revoked yet. If he moved quickly, he could have them all by day break. He would do it and then never look back on this pathetic portion of his life again. He'd finally be back on top where he belonged, surrounded by those who were hardwired to love him through biology. Not choice. Choice was for the souled. For those who weren't ruled by a demon.

"Move along. Don't need you scuzzying up the place."

A few coins bounced at Spike's feet as he glanced up. A well-dressed man was sneering down at him. The arse must be new to Sunnydale. Every resident knew there were no homeless here. The City Council was real big on advertising the fact in an effort to raise property values. Of course, they didn't mention why there were no homeless. All the murder and unexplained animal attacks really did a number on those same property values.

"Go on. Tell your friends too. I'm opening a fine establishment here, and if I find any of your kind loitering I won't hesitate to call the cops."

Spike chuckled. Sometimes Lady Luck dropped in your lap and made life a little bit easier. No huge moral dilemma in this one. Not at all.

The man took a step back, confusion flittering over his young face.

Still chuckling, stomach tight with hunger and that sick ache that wouldn't go away, Spike slowly rose to his feet.

The man squared his shoulders. "Go on then." He lifted his chin with manly swagger, not realizing he exposed his juggler. "Before I call the cops."

Spike's grin widened, revealing sharp canines. He could feel the bones under his skin narrow, becoming more feline, not quite transforming completely into his demon. It was a shadow under the skin yet. Waiting for its moment to pounce.

The scent of fear soaked the alley. Spike let his eyes drift close as he inhaled it deep into his lungs, savoring it. When he opened his eyes he could see heat traces and the red pulses of blood flowing through the man in front of him, and he knew the demon was fully riding him now.

The man screamed, and Spike sprang, running on instinct alone. He honed on the heat and fear, taking his prey to the ground hard. Within moments he had his food restrained, the man's fragile bones near snapping under Spike's remorseless grip.

There was no pain. No sharp reprimand for following his nature. His nature wasn't in need of correction. He was doing what was natural. What was right.

Spike shoved his face in the man's throat, inhaling the rich scent of food, his body wracked with ecstatic shivers.

This felt right. Felt good. It would be so easy to take what he wanted. What he needed.

But, Gods, he didn't want too. He knew it would feel so good, but he didn't want it. Didn't want to take that hit. He knew once he tasted fresh blood in his mouth, felt it slide down his throat, he wouldn't be able to stop. The cravings would overwhelm him. He would be lost to its siren call, and it wouldn't matter how badly he hurt his family, all he would care about would be getting his next taste of ecstasy.

Spike sprang off the man, backing away. He wiped a trembling hand across his mouth, checking for blood. Relieved when it came away clean. He didn't want do this. He could choose not to do this. He had a choice. He wasn't an animal. He wasn't driven by biology or instinct.

His demon wasn't in control. He was. He wasn't his demon. He was Spike. The demon didn't ride him. He rode the demon. He wrangled it. He controlled it. He leashed that wanker and it did his bidding. Not the other way around.

8888

Buffy looked up as Xander and Anya walked in the front door of Giles' apartment.

"Anything?" she asked.

"Willie hasn't seen him," Xander replied. "Says the rumor is that he's still in town though. So that's something."

"He's probably very conflicted right now." Anya patted her boyfriend's arm consolingly.

"When I find him, I'm totally going to conflict with him," Buffy promised as she turned back to Willow and Tara who were dangling a dowsing crystal over a map of Sunnydale. Pissed wasn't the word Buffy would use to describe herself right now. Bordering on Joyce-level crazy? Absolutely. How dare that ass of a vampire run out on her?

TWICE!

Yeah….Buffy was Joyce-level nuclear.

Buffy totally got why her mom threw stuff now. Men were put on the Earth to drive women bat-shit crazy!

"It's no use," whined Willow. "There's just too many demons."

"Maybe we can narrow it down somehow?" Tara offered. "Does anyone have a personal item of Spike's?"

Dawn checked her pockets, pulling out a pack of mints she had stolen from him. He had taken to eating them when the girls had complained about his cigarette smell. "Will this do?"

Tara shook her head. "No, it needs to be something more personal."

"How about this?" Buffy pulled off the gold skull ring she always wore and offered it to Tara. "It's mine, but he gave it to me. That's pretty personal, right?" She needed to find Spike. If anyone realized he was wearing the Ring of Amara he'd become a target. He was in danger. The idiot was probably trying to see if he would freckle with no regard with how worried everyone was for his safety.

Tara took the ring and the witches frowned down at it. Willow shrugged. "Can't hurt to try."

Tara slid the ring onto the chain so it dangled next to the crystal. Together the witches chanted, as the crystal swung widdershins around the map until becoming unnaturally taunt, the tip of the crystal pointing to a specific place.

Willow wrinkled her nose. "It must be broke. It says he's right here."

"Slayer!" A drunken howl sounded from outside the door.

Definitely drunken. The slurring was undeniable. Buffy's nuke-a-meter pinged further toward the red zone.

The door groaned in protest as she ripped it open, and rushed outside, her friends on her heels. Spike stood by the dried up fountain in the center of the courtyard, the full light of the sun blazing down on him. The buildings cast shadows, creeping in from the sides and Buffy had to remind herself that she didn't need to shove Spike into them.

He held out his arms, basking in the light with half empty bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand. "I've come for you, Slayer."

Buffy propped her hands on her hips and scowled at him. "Where have you been, you idiot? We've been looking everywhere. Everyone was worried."

Spike rolled his tongue behind his teeth, and trailed his hand down his chest. "Were you worried, Slayer?" His hand reached his belt buckle and he swayed on his feet before catching his balance.

Buffy's expression turned thunderous. The drunken idiot clearly wasn't worried about his safety, why should she be? How she had fretted over him. Worried about what he was thinking, worried that he'd hurt himself or be hurt by something else. She pivoted on her heel and marched over to the facet and the hose Giles kept to water the potted plants by the door. After turning it on full blast, she aimed it at Spike and pulled the trigger.

By the leer on his face, Spike had been admiring her bum in a drunken stupor as she bent over and was ill prepared for the blast of icy water that hit him square in the face.

"Bloody, fucking, hell!"

"Three quarters," Dawn murmured from the doorway where she stood, looking somewhere between elated her friend was back and disappointed at his behavior.

"You sober yet?" Buffy held the hose in front of her threateningly.

"Yes, damn you. I'm sober." Spike tossed his bottle into the dried out fountain, and Giles winced at the sound of shattering glass. Spike ignored it, using both hands to wipe the water from his face. The bones in his face stood out prominently, his eyes were sunken and red-rimmed. It was obvious he was starved. He needed real sustenance, not booze.

Buffy dropped the hose, crossing her arms across her chest. Her expression was defiant, but her hurt was apparent to everyone.

"You're here to fight, then? Got your fangs back so you're going to make good on your threat to make me your third slayer?"

Spike glanced away, unable to look her in the eye. "That was a long time ago."

"So? You're the Big Bad, aren't you? Got a reputation to keep up." Buffy's anger was building and she couldn't help but to poke him. Idiot! Did he really have the balls to waltz in and demand a fight after all they've been through?

"Things change!" he snarled.

Buffy advanced on him. "It didn't seem that way when you ran out like a coward. Twice!" Being an idiot could be forgiven. Despite his vampire status, he was still a man, and in Buffy's limited experience they were mostly idiots anyways, but cowardice? She had no patience for it!

"You left," she sucked in a ragged breath. "You promised you wouldn't, but you did." Hurt glittered beneath all that volcanic rage. She wanted him to hurt like she did, but when agony crested over his near bloodless features, she didn't feel triumph. The ache just expanded further, squeezing her heart until if felt like there wasn't enough oxygen in the world to sustain her.

"Couldn't stick around, could I? Not after murdering one of your precious humans."

"That wasn't murder," she shouted. Rage was all she had now. She needed to focus on it and not the hurt. Rage would sustain her. When she could no longer breathe air, she would breathe fire in its place.

He looked at her like she was buckets of crazy. "It bloody well was. I felt his neck snap beneath my hands."

She stomped her foot and small cracks radiated through the pavement. "It was instinct. He was about to kill us all. You saved us, Spike."

He backed away from her, shaking his head. "Don't feed me that line. I saw the look on your face. You were going to stake me right then and there."

She threw up her hands and he flinched. "You are such a moron. I wasn't going to stake you. I was surprised, is all."

"I bet! Your pet vampire was off the leash!"

Pure hurt flashed through her. "Is that how you think of me? Do I treat you like that?" He shuffled his feet refusing to look at her, and it only made her temper all the more terrible. "All you do is make excuses! And when that doesn't work, you blame me for your behavior. If you want to leave, then leave, don't blame me."

"I know what you think of me," he hissed at her, matching her in fury. "Know I'm not a man."

Seething, she glanced around the courtyard, looking for the nearest object. She settled on a poured concrete urn near the walkway. The fact it was melded to the pavement, and nearly seventy-five pounds, made no matter as she wrenched it away with a crack. Snarling, she hurled it across the courtyard, barely missing Spike who dodged with a decided lack of grace.

Shards of concrete burst, and he threw up his arm to protect his eyes. Although, the rest of the gang were far away from explosion, they still shuffled backwards toward the open door of Giles' apartment. None of them had seen their friend this mad before.

"Bloody hell, woman."

"Answer the question, Spike. Do I really treat you like that? Like you're nothing but an animal? My pet?"

"No, but—"

"No," she screamed hoarsely. "How dare you treat me like that!"

"You can't trust me! You have no idea what I'm willing to do to keep you. To keep all of you."

"I trust you!" Buffy swung her arm wildly toward the group. "We all trust you, Spike."

"I don't trust me!" he howled, slamming his fists, over and over, into the lip of the fountain until his hands bled, and good-sized chunks of cement littered the ground.

Shock jolted through Buffy, dousing her anger. She had never seen him like this. So conflicted. At war with himself in a way that questioned the very essence of who he was. "Spike." She took a tentative step forward, only to be stopped in her tracks as he pinned her with his eyes. They were so bright with emotion they looked like they were lit from the inside with blue fire.

"You lot are mortal! Don't you understand what that means? Someday, you all will die. Even the Bit." He chanced a glance at Dawn, but looked quickly away as if seeing her physically hurt. "I'll be left here alone," he whispered.

Her heart hurt for him. Physically ached, like it was being ripped from her chest. "Spike…"

He backed away from her, shaking his head. "You're all fired up and righteous about me leaving, but it's you that will go. If I stay. Then that's it. I stay for good. 'Til the end of the bloody world. Nothing will rip me away from your side. Even if it means I'm the last man standing." Buffy tried to get closer to him, but he continued to shuffle away. "I'll be condemning myself to watching my family die one by one." He dropped to his knees, emotion overwhelming him. "It will be hell, Buffy."

She rushed forward, finally able to touch him like she wanted. Like she needed. She wrapped her entire body around him, uncaring that she was straddling his lap in front of everyone. All she cared about was pouring as much love and caring into him as she possibly could.

"The temptation to change that, change you, it's too great. I can't trust myself not to give in," he sobbed.

This is what loving her looked like. It was pure misery. No happily ever after for her. A girl destined to have a short life in love with a man destined to live for eternity. How could that possibly work? How could she condemn any of them to that kind of pain?

Through her tears, she looked at her friends. They were crying. The witches and Anya. The men stoic in their misery. Dawn crumpled by the door.

They grieved not only for Spike's inevitable loss, but for their own.

"I'm sorry," she said to them all. She pressed a kiss to Spike's temple. "I'm sorry," she whispered in his ear. What else could she say? Nothing would change the inevitable. They lived, therefore they died. They all would. More than likely her death would be sooner than theirs, but in the end, Spike was right, he would lose them all. Just as they would lose her.

Spike's arms tightened around her. She could feel the pinch of his claws above her hip and knew that the intensity of his emotions had called up his demon. It always came to protect him in times of stress. Sure, it was generally misguided, but Buffy also knew that Spike's demon was capable of immense caring. After all, even while feral, it had protect what was most precious to Spike. His family.

"I love you, Buffy. I love you so much." Buffy's chest felt superheated. He said the words and she believed him. Felt the same in return. This wasn't some flash in the pan lust like it had been with Angel then made into something more to justify it. This was something that had grown out years of friendship and support.

It was on the tip of her tongue to return the words, but she couldn't push them past her convulsing throat. Those words had doomed her relationship with Angel. Once she had professed her love, let the universe know that she truly cared for someone, it had worked overtime to take it away from her. Buffy didn't want Spike to be taken away. She didn't want to doom them.

Spike shoved her away and she landed on her butt on the ground. He darted to his feet, wiping away his tears from his now human face.

"I thought I could leave you lot, but I can't. I can't leave you, Buffy. I know you can't trust me. I'm a monster. So let me prove to you I'm devoted. I'll gladly take back the leash for you."

He moved to the shadows by the fountain, sliding off the Ring of Amara. Before Buffy could stop him, he snatched up a chunk of broken fountain and smashed the ring. Golden light burst out, signaling the destruction of its protective magic.

Disbelief well up inside of her as she scrambled to her feet. "You moron! What did you do?" Now he would never walk in the light. He was vulnerable yet again. Unable to protect himself from humans. From the sun and stakes. He could die. Vampires were extremely fragile. A stake through the heart, a bit of fire, it was so easy to rend them to dust.

"Now, I won't be tempted. I'm leashed good and proper. I can be trusted."

"I trusted you before," she whispered, wiping at her tears. What would she do if he died? How would she go on? She felt his pain, like she felt hers. Two people afraid of losing the one they loved the most. "I don't need you to be chipped to trust you, Spike."

He shook his head, backing away from the destroyed artifact.

Buffy pressed forward, moving cautiously, like he was a skittish cat to be coaxed out from beneath the car, where it had crawled like a dumbass. Spike was a dumbass! But she still loved him. "You saved Dawn before you really even knew what it was to love her. You were gentle with my mom despite how many times she walloped you."

He backed away, still shaking his head. Still refusing to meet her gaze. His shame was a palatable thing. His shame for being who and what he was. But he didn't need to be ashamed. To Buffy, Spike was a miracle. A vampire who fought against his nature. A vampire who loved his human family despite the heartbreak it would bring.

Buffy put on a burst of speed, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look her in the eye. "You had my blood in your mouth, Spike, and you spat it out. Horrified, that you might have took without asking."

"I took before without asking," he whispered, still caught in her intense gaze.

"And you learned not to. Every day you learn to be a better man. You did it all before you loved us. So no matter what you say. How you bluster and bullshit. I will never believe that you would hurt us now."

"Why?"

She smiled brilliantly. "Because if you did all that before you loved us, imagine what you'll accomplish now. You've chosen to stand beside us until the end of the bloody world."

He stepped into her space, his hand cupping her jaw. "I love you," he professed, as if excluding the others, but Buffy saw through him.

"You love all of me, Spike. And all of me includes my family." She pressed her lips together before correcting herself. "Our family."

He leaned forward, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. Buffy knew he wouldn't take without asking, so she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his.

Around her she could hear her family cheering, and she couldn't help but smile through the kiss. She pulled away, looking into the eyes of the man she loved. The sun was creeping up behind him, and she narrowed her eyes.

"We are going to talk about you breaking your gifts."

"Speaking of which." He rubbed his thumb over the finger his ring usually adorned.

She shook her head. He was so ridiculously possessive sometimes. "It's inside. Come in before you get burned."

"I already am," he declared while looking at her adoringly, before he ran for Giles' flat where the old man was already pulling out some Glenlivet to celebrate. Buffy followed him, watching as everyone gave him hugs and kisses in welcome. She didn't notice Tara edge away from the group. Buffy wouldn't have thought anything of it if she had. Tara was always uncomfortable around crowds.

Willow noticed. Willow always noticed everything about her beautiful lover, and followed her outside.

"What are you doing, baby?"

Tara turned away from the fountain, holding out her hand. Nestled in her palm, Willow could see two halves the Amara gem. To anyone else, it looked like a broken chunk of moss agate, but Willow could see the lingering pulse of power in the two rocks.

"What do you think?" Tara whispered.

Willow looked up at her lover, and smiled. Tara smiled back and closed her hand protectively over the gems.

A/N: Here endeth S4, finally! We are so close to finishing this! I'm so excited.