No. You Don't.

Title: No. You don't.
Author: Xionin
Rating: R for strong language
Pairing: Buffy/Spike.
Feedback: Pretty please?
Disclaimer: ME dropped the ball. I picked it up.
Distribution: Spread the love, just tell me where.
Author's Note: Having just completed 'Maybe When,' which was sweet and fluffy, I needed to write something polar opposite. Indulge me, won't you?

No. You don't.

Spike refuses to turn around and look at her.
If he does, he might lose the courage to do what he knows he should.
He can feel her eyes searching his back, as she's curled up in the farthest corner of the couch.

As far away from him as she can get.
And yet, she's reaching for him. Silently.

She doesn't need him anymore, not really. Not for...anything.
Not for information; she's gotten all that she can get about the First from him.
Not for brute strength, she's got another demon fighter now in the tall, dark and human Principal Wood.
And surely not for friendship; never that.

Certainly she doesn't want him, not that he blames her...entirely.

So why is he here?
Because he depends on her.
She's had to save him more than once this year.
From himself, from his demons.
From those that would use him to bring about the latest apocalypse.

He's sick of being a victim; sick of being beaten to a pulp and cut-up like so much Christmas goose.

He's sick of it all, but most of all he's sick of her.
Sick to death of her.

One year and three fucking continents later, and he's still hung up on the bloody Slayer.
He didn't travel all that way to fight with underworld nasties and win his soul only
to come back to Sunnyhell and watch her moon over someone else, or worse yet,
pretend that she may...

Not that he thinks she'll ever...ever...come to care for him more than she does.
And she does, in her own way.

He sees it in her eyes more and more each day, her concern.
Every fucking time she looks at him that way the flame of hope, the one he's
constantly dousing with tears in the middle of the night, starts to flare up again.

Springing fucking eternal.

He only has to see that look in her eyes and his love for her rises like an ember.
But he just can't sit by and watch her move on when he is bloody standing still.
Running in place, more like.

He needs to get the hell away from here.
Screw the First and the horse it rode in on, it's not his bloody fight.
Using him to raise undead acolytes, who the fuck does it think it is?

And him: sitting around, like an obedient dog, jumping at her orders and
waiting to get picked up for playtime again.

Well, no bloody thanks.

Spike risks a glance at her out of his peripheral vision.
She's just a girl; a miniature woman curled up on the couch.
Nothing special.

Right.

"Did anybody tell you about what happened around here tonight?" Did they tell you how I'm next on the hit parade?

"Willow did. The First is back in the mix."

"It, uh, it talked to the little boy. Said it wasn't time for me yet.
I should move out. Leave town before it is time for me."

Before I start to believe again.
Stop looking at me like that, you bitch, I can feel it scorching my back.
You'll never love me.

"No, you have to stay."

Why? "You've got another demon fighter now." He's beneath you too, you know.

"That's not why I need you here."

What?

What could she possibly...possibly...want from him now?
God! He's given her everything that is him, there's nothing left.

Now he's the shell of someone that once was so much more.

"Is that right? Why's that then?" Give me one good reason, Buffy. Just one.
Bloke doesn' need much.

"'Cause I'm not ready for you to not be here."

Bloody hell.

What do you say to that? 'Why not?'
'Why now?'

Do you beg? 'Please take it back, Buffy, because I need to be away
from you and all of this or I'll sodding go insane'?

Is he just another pair of fists to add to the armory?
One more weapon? Or...

Does she need me? Am I part of her life?
Part of her world, that she cannot live without?
Because, God help me, she's still mine.
All I've bloody well got.

"And the Principal? How's he fit in?"

Spike risks looking at her a bit more this time.
He refuses to acknowledge the way the light of the fire casts her shadow on the wall making her larger than life; or the way it causes her eyes to sparkle, sad though they are, with
the life energy that he worships in her.

She doesn't answer him, so he looks away.

"I can't do this anymore, Buffy." He sighs with the weight of his decision. The widdle Spike in his head is laughing at him, mocking him.

Fucking coward, you are.

"What. Can't do what." She doesn't even phrase it as a question. Too tired to, perhaps, or just doesn't care enough to lift the end of the sentence.

"This." He turns to her fully, she stiffens. Automated response these days. "You."

Somehow that word relaxes her. He watches her shoulders deflate a little and...Are those tears?

"Please, Spike." Her voice sounds so thin and weak, devoid of any passion. "Please."

He frowns in confusion. Please what? Stay? Leave? Die? What!

"What do you want from me, Buffy? I've given you everything that I have; everything. There is no more." There is defeat in his voice that digusts him.

"That's all I want." It's almost a whisper. He's angry. He wants to leave, not sit here playing mind games. He turns his back to her and he can feel the cushions of the couch sag with her weight as she moves closer. Her hand rests in the small of his back with the lightest of touches. He curses his body for responding to her; leaning into her.

Goddamn!

He jumps up from the couch and runs his hands roughly through his hair.

"Spike-"

"No."

No no no no no!

"Please, I-" she chokes out a sob. He spins around to look at her. She's crying. The bitch is crying! She knows how it affects him. She'll do anything say anything, well almost...

"I need you." Is that a breeze or are those words? Hard to hear either, but he does.

"W-what?" His eyes narrow and his voice becomes hoarse as he tries to comprehend what he just heard.

She's panicking. Good. Good, that tells all. She hadn't meant it and now she wishes she could take it back.

"I-I need you."

Spike straightens up and looks down at her. God, she is so fucking beautiful it hurts. He remembers, suddenly, the first time he'd seen her naked and spread out before him. Her skin was flawless; suprising for someone with her calling, but there it was. She smelled like life; like sunshine and tasted like summer fruit. He remembers her bursting over his tongue like ripe grapes; intoxicating him with her natural wine.

And he remembers everything else, too. The words, the bruises. The denial.

"Why did you come to the cave, Buffy?" His voice is low, so low that she doesn't catch all that he says.

"What?"

"The cave. You came to rescue me. Why?" He looks her straight in the eye.

"You were in trouble."

"That's not why." He narrows his eyes at her and she frowns.

"Y-you would have rather stayed there?"

"No I just wan' to know why, when you could 'ave had one less ass to protect, you came for me." She looks around the room for answers.

"I-I..."

"Why?"

"Look, I'm tired...let's talk about this tom-"

"Why!" His nostrils flare and she bristles in response. He can see her anger wanting to rise, but for some reason she backs down and sighs audibly.

"Spike...I don't know what you want to hear. I couldn't leave you there, not now; not after everything."

"Why." His voice is barely above a whisper. She doesn't have an answer. He knows it. She'd done it because that's what heroes do. She can't even tell him that. There was no higher purpose; no grand statement made. Yeah, so what she believes he could possibly, maybe become a good person after all of this shit was through. Who was he going to be good for? Good...to?

Not the one that mattered.

She can't think of one good reason for him to stay. 'Needing' him isn't enough of a reason if he's only a security blanket..

"I'm leavin' Buffy." He turns towards the door.

"Please don't." She's on her feet in a flash.

"I-I 'ave to." He turns back and looks into her eyes. Probably for the last time.

I will not let you see me break inside.

"Please...don't go." Tears are glistening on her cheeks, making her glow in the firelight.

"I'm sorry, luv. Truly." And he is. He turns away and takes two steps before the sound of her voice stops him.

"I love you."

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He stops and swears his heart just beat for the first time in over a hundred years. Buffy stands perfectly still and watches his shoulders rise and fall with unneccesary breaths. She swallows hard and purses her lips into a thin line preparing for him to turn around and acknowledge what she's just said.

Spike raises his eyes to the ceiling. He cannot stop the tears from coming, but he'll-be-damned if he's going to show them to her. Unable to form words, he tries to swallow the lump in his throat a few times. Letting out a ragged breath, he squares his shoulders and takes the third step to the door.

"Spike? Did you hear me?"

He stops. He heard her. And he doesn't know if it's a lie. To him or to herself. He isn't going to turn around and find out. He makes the choice on his own, whether to believe or not.

Buffy steps up to him so closely that he can feel her heat through the back of his jacket. The fight to control the urge to face her causes him to tremble, but when she tries to slip her hand in his, he regains his composure and moves it away.

"Did you hear me?" She whispers a little louder.
"I said...I love you."

The honeyed words float to his ears. He closes his eyes and drinks them in for what they're worth.

"No. You don't." He steps through the archway and her spell is broken. Opening the front door, he hears her gasp. "But thanks for saying it."

He walks out the door and out of her life.

-fin-

Prefer a happy ending? Read the sequel: Yes, I do.