Spike observed Buffy from the shadows as she attacked the punching bag with a fury he had never before witnessed. The pain of her mother's death had unleashed a frenzied outpouring of anger and violence which could only be dealt with through sheer physical exertion. She was so focused on kicking and punching in rapid succession that she hadn't even sensed his presence. He had been her constant unseen companion for the last week, staying hidden as she mourned, made funeral arrangements, was comforted by her friends and gave comfort to her sister. She had soon started patrolling again, and Spike had tailed her at a distance, not interfering but ready in case her pain got in the way of her fighting abilities. But not only had she fought with a ferocity he had never imagined, she fought single-mindedly. Gone were the sarcastic quips and unexpected moves that made Buffy Summers such a unique slayer. Now, she was at the best fighting form of her life, but it was... emotionless, automatic, cold and cruel and calculating. Tonight, she had killed twelve vamps before coming back here to the workout room of the Magic Box. Spike wished he could hold her, comfort her, but he knew he was also the last person she wanted comfort from. Suddenly, a thought occured to him. Maybe he couldn't give her a hug, but he could give her a reason to fight with emotion again. Maybe that would help her feel connected to something.

He slipped out into the darkness and ran back to his crypt. He found the cd he wanted and grabbed the new portable cd player he'd gotten to replace the one he'd recently destroyed. He made his way back to the Magic Box and stole into the workout room without a sound. Buffy was still there, but she had stopped sparring. She was standing absolutely still, face devoid of expression, staring at the wall. He could barely detect her breathing, although he could sense the rapid beating of her heart. His stomach lurched as he realized he was staring at a slayer who had begun searching for her death, just as he'd predicted that night in the alley several months ago. He only hoped that fighting with him would rescue the part of herself that was missing, reignite the spark that made Buffy who she was.

He turned the volume up on the cd player, programmed the first song to play once, pushed 'play', and set it on the floor next to the wall.

"Slayer."

Buffy still hadn't turned in his direction.

"Buffy."

The music began, filling the room and reverberating off the walls.

"'Dance' with me," Spike growled softly.

Finally, Buffy pivoted slowly on the balls of her feet and took up an automatic fighting stance. The singer began crooning her lyrics, lyrics made for their situation. It was a song about, love, need, obsession, and darkness.

"I would die for you

I would die for you

I've been dying just to feel you by my side

To know that you're mine"

Buffy's expression, or lack of expression, had still not changed. Spike's anguish for her threatened to push it's way to the surface, but he swallowed it. This was--for once--not about him.

"I will cry for you

I will cry for you

I will wash away your pain with all my tears

And drown your fear"

He made his way over to her slowly, walking in a fluid, controlled motion. He stood in front of her, two feet away, and waited.

"I will pray for you

I will pray for you

I will sell my soul for something pure and true

Someone like you"

"Let's. Dance." Because of the Initiative chip he could only take the defensive, could only parry her blows without attacking, so he couldn't initiate their fight.

Buffy suddenly looked over at the cd player, cocked her head as if she was hearing the music for the first time, and listened to the lyrics.

"See your face every place that I walk in

Hear your voice every time that I'm talking

You will believe in me

And I will never be ignored"

She slowly turned back to Spike, and he knew by the look in her eyes that she had made the connection... the words of the song matched Spike's obsession with her, his demands that she acknowledge his feelings as real.

The blows came fast and furious, and even though Spike was ready, he knew in an instant that if she carried this thing through, she could kill him. He ducked and dodged and blocked, avoiding her blows or taking them so that they wouldn't cause too much damage. He never hit her, not once. They fought in silence for what seemed like an eternity until, panting, they both broke apart. Buffy stared at him, trying to catch her breath, until finally she could speak.

"Why are you doing this?" She bit out, glaring at him.

He held his hands out, wide apart, trying to appear nonchalant. Inside, his heart was breaking for her.

"I will burn for you

Feel pain for you

I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart

And tear it apart

I will lie for you

Beg and steal for you

I will crawl on hands and knees until you see

You're just like me

Violate all the love that I'm missing

Throw away all the pain that I'm living

You will believe in me

And I can never be ignored"

He turned and went to the weapons chest, removing a stake. He stood in front of her again, looking down at the floor, mouthing the final words to the song, words he knew by heart:

"I would die for you

I would kill for you

I will steal for you

I'd do time for you

I will wait for you

I'd make room for you

I'd sink ships for you

To be close to you

To be part of you

Cause I believe in you

I believe in you

I would die for you"

As the song ended and the music faded away, he reached for her hand. When he found no resistance, he took her tiny fingers and wrapped them around the stake beneath his own hand, pulling the tip to his heart. With a sad smile, he pushed the tip in enough to draw blood.

"Give it me good, Buffy." He whispered softly.

When he felt her fingers tighten around the stake, he closed his eyes and stiffened, waiting for it to plunge into his heart and turn him to dust. If dying meant she could find some piece of herself to hold on to, then he was willing to make the sacrifice.

They remained locked in place for several minutes, until Spike started to wonder why he wasn't dead yet. His opened his eyes to focus on Buffy, who was staring at him like he was some kind of puzzle she couldn't solve. Slowly, she pulled her hand out of his grasp, the stake falling to the floor with a clatter. Half turning away, she lowered herself to the floor in a crouching position, and began to sob. Her body shuddered with the effort, and finally she threw her head back and howled. Her primal, gut-wrenching scream filled the room, gave voice to the raw pain that she had been trying to reign in by hiding all other emotions as well. Spike instantly dropped to his knees, surrounding her with his body and burying his face in her hair. He didn't tell her it would be alright. He didn't lie or make promises about how she would eventually recover from her mother's death. He didn't take advantage of the situation to proclaim his love again. He simply held her, promising her only the strength of his arms to hold her. For this moment, it was enough.

End