"A what?"

Spike took a deep breath. He was on his knees before the steps of the back porch where his love sat. "I've got a soul. That's why I went to Africa. What I did…breaking your trust…it made me see you were right, that you couldn't trust me as I was. I'd been living a half-life, Buffy. I couldn't be a monster and I wasn't a man. I needed to make a choice, one or the other."

He could feel his throat tightening up. "I could have asked for the chip to be gone. Part of me wanted to do that and come back here to slaughter the lot of you. But I didn't. I went through the trials because I wanted to be a man. I wanted at least the chance to regain your trust."

Desperately trying to keep panic from overwhelming him, Spike watched as she processed this information. So many things were flickering across her face, he couldn't quite catch them all. He did catch the wariness that settled in her eyes as she spoke a single word: "Why?"

"Because I love you. Because I want to be worthy of you. Because I…"

He trailed off and sat back on his heels. This wasn't going at all how he'd hoped. Somewhere inside him, the poet had dreamed of coming home and throwing himself prostrate at his lady's feet, begging forgiveness, promising eternal love and offering up his soul as a sacrifice on her altar.

That idea hadn't even lasted until he'd got on the plane.

"Because I had to change," he said at last. "I had to move forward. The way we were…the way I was…it wasn't just you it was killing, Buffy."

The muscles of her jaw clenched ever so slightly as he continued. "We were bad for each other then -- both of us hurt and lost, clinging to a little bit of comfort in the night, hating ourselves in the morning."

"And you think we can be good for each other now."

Spike wasn't certain what to make of those words. As so often happened with Buffy, the signals were confusing. There was a touch of annoyance, even anger there which he had fully expected. Another note was in the mix, however, what some part of him desperately wanted to believe was a touch of wistfulness. He would not allow himself to hope. "I'm saying I'd like the chance to repair at least some of the damage I did. After that, we'll see what happens."

Buffy nodded, her face thoughtful. This had been their first chance to talk since he'd returned three weeks ago and part of him wished he had another three weeks to prepare. He hadn't meant to put it off this long, but things in Sunnydale never went as planned. A crisis found him fighting at the Slayer's side almost immediately, falling back into the old rhythms as if he'd never left. Harris had been none too pleased to see him, but that was part of the old pattern as well.

Things were different, though. Dawn fought with them now, full of enthusiasm but nowhere near as much skill as she liked to believed, while Xander was more often absent in his attempts to renew his relationship with Anya. Anya never came along, rebuilding the Magic Box and ignoring Xander keeping her busy. Willow was away in England with Giles, undergoing some form of magical detox after the rather spectacular events that had happened in the spring.

The hardest difference to wrap his mind around was the fact Tara - shy, quiet Tara who never wished anyone harm - was dead.

He tried to follow this thoughts down, analyze the differences; anything to keep his mind from dwelling on where Buffy's own thoughts might be taking her. Had he waited too long to tell her? Was it too soon? Did the soul matter, or would she order him from her life anyway? He could swear his palms were damp as he waited for her to speak, chewing on his lip to keep his words from tumbling forth.

"There were a lot of bad things," she said at last.

"And I'll understand if you can't forgive me for them," he assured her hastily. "These things take time. Trust has to have a solid foundation, a place to grow."

She reached out and laid her hand on his arm, the touch bringing his words to an abrupt halt. "Spike. What happened between us that night…what almost happened…it's okay."

He could feel unnecessary breath catch in his chest. Here was the very absolution he'd sought…and he couldn't believe she'd offer it so lightly, as if it meant nothing. "Buffy, what I did…"

"Tried to do. I stopped you, remember?"

"What happened," he managed through gritted teeth, "whether you stopped me or not was…damn it, I'll sound like a complete poof, but the word's 'reprehensible.' A man can't just walk back into a woman's life and expect to be forgiven between one breath and another."

"Why not?" She was looking up at him with that puzzled expression she always wore when a problem was too tight for her mind to unravel easily. "We were both in a bad place. I've changed. You've certainly changed. There are moments when you're a completely different person."

Angel . Angelus. The thought flashed across Spike's mind, remembering how Angelus' crimes were easily dismissed with the return of Angel's soul, no thought at all given to the fact the demon who had driven him to such acts still lay chained inside. Nor were the chains necessarily secure even with the soul, if what Drusilla had told him was true.

And here was Buffy ready to give him the same grace, to forget what had been done before the demon had placed his hand on Spike's chest. It was dangerous ground; too dangerous, perhaps. He wanted her trust, but not so blindly as to have it shattered at his first misstep. "But I am the same person," he insisted carefully. "Yes, I've changed, but I'm still Spike. I've still done everything I'd done before."

Another frown. "Are you trying to tell me you're still evil?"

"No! I'm just…I…oh, bloody hell!'

He was on his feet and pacing back and forth across the green lawn. "Look, I was evil. Bad to the bone, just as soon bite you as look at you evil. The first thought I had when I saw you was, 'Will I have a chance to shag her before I kill her?' Then I fell in love with you and everything turned upside down. I tried to do what I could to be good, but it wasn't enough."

"I didn't help," she said quietly.

"Whose rant is this? Yeah, maybe you didn't help, but maybe if I'd had an ounce of sense, I wouldn't have let things get as bad as they did. Maybe I should have left town. Maybe I should have realized you were trying to tell me you didn't feel about me the way I felt about you. There's a world of 'maybes' out there, but none of them change the fact of what I did. If I couldn't with myself, how can you do it so easily?"

She sighed, closing her eyes as the sound escaped her lips. "I've had all summer to think of this. Xander managed to work Dawn into a frenzy after you left, told her you'd raped me. When I told her you hadn't, she didn't want to believe me at first. She's still upset at the idea you even tried."

"Which explains the cold shoulder. " He gave a short laugh. "I'm surprised she didn't test her staking skills."

"Only because I told her there would be no staking - and because I think part of her wants to forgive you. The thing is, I've had to deal with this all summer. Xander acts like I'm in denial about what happened, wants me to get professional help. The moment he learned you were back in town, he brought it back up again, wanted to know what I was going to do."

Buffy rose from the steps and crossed the grass to where he stood. "We're the only ones who know exactly what happened that night. It needs to be settled between us, not them."

"This is the point where I stretch out my arms and tell you to stake me for my sins, isn't it?"

She smiled. "Over dramatic much?" Her expression sobered. "I am angry at you for that. No, I don't trust you, but I didn't let myself trust you then, so that really hasn't changed."

A step closer and she was invading his personal space, looking up at him with big green eyes. "I did miss you, though. I missed the way we were after I came back, when we'd patrol together and I could just talk to you, tell you my problems. I'd like to go back to that. I mean, it may not be fair to you, given how you feel…or has that changed? Does having a soul mean you don't…?"

This time he was certain there was something in her voice. "I love you," he managed. "Always will."

Her eyes lit up at his words. "Let's start by trying to be friends. Like you said, we'll see what happens."

Spike nodded, too stunned to say anything. William might get to lay his soul on his lady's altar after all.

"I'd better go in. Dawn will be worried. Patrol tomorrow night? It'll be just you and me."

He nodded again and watched as she turned and headed for the house. Buffy paused on the steps and came back toward him. "I did some terrible things. I used you, hurt you…"

"All forgiven." Now he managed to find his voice.

"Even though I beat you and left you in an alley? I lied to my friends, wouldn't admit we were spending time together?"

"In an instant. How could I not and keep loving you?"

She stepped into his space once more, reaching out her hand to unconsciously lay it where the demon had touched him. "If you can so easily forgive me or what I did, then why can't you accept that I forgive you?"

With that question, she left him to puzzle out the answer under the stars.

***

"Are you out of your mind?" Xander's tone made the words sound more like a statement than a question. "You're going to forgive Spike just like that?"

Buffy hadn't intended to have this discussion at this moment and in this place. She'd come by the Magic Box to walk home with Dawn once her work day was finished. That was all. A nice sisterly walk home, a nice sisterly dinner and then a nice sisterly conversation about Spike. Xander wasn't anywhere near the plan.

But he'd been in the Magic Box when she'd come in as he so often was at the end of the day. Buffy had done her best to avoid "The Topic" as she'd come to think of it, but after Anya had rejected his dinner invitation, Xander had been spoiling for something to vent his unhappiness on and chose the usual convenient target.

"We talked," she said carefully, conscious of the eyes upon her. "A lot has happened and I think the best way to deal with it is to put it behind us and move on."

"So we just forgive and forget, pretend it never happened. I think I can guess why you're so eager to forgive him, Buffy. Don't you think a little sick to want an evil, soulless demon rapist as boyfriend?"

Why had she risen to the bait, told Xander she'd forgiven Spike? She should have known it would only start debate, not end it. "That's not it at all. Things have changed." Buffy took a deep breath. "He has a soul."

Dawn and Xander stared at her in disbelief. "So he did tell you," Anya said. "Good. I said keeping secrets wasn't a good idea - especially secrets like that."

"You knew?"

Anya seemed a bit surprised by the question. "A few minutes after he walked in, it was pretty obvious. It's a demon thing, I guess, being able to tell when someone who didn't previously have a human soul has one. Maybe it's just a vengeance demon thing; after all, we're supposed to sense pain and all that."

Buffy couldn't describe the wave of hurt that washed over her. Anya had known before she had; she'd guessed what Buffy had to be told. Making every effort to keep her voice steady, she asked, "When did he come to see you?"

"Just after he got back. He wanted to know what had happened while he was gone; I think he wanted to know if it was safe to approach you."

"You've been talking to Spike?"

Anya's reply to Xander's accusatory tone was rather cool. "Of course I have, since I hired him to fill the mail orders while I oversaw the final work on the shop. He cleared out my backlog very nicely. Not that it's any business of yours who I talk to since we are no longer engaged or dating. Or do I have to remind you of that again?"

Xander's mouth opened then shut. Without a word, he climbed off the stool be the counter and headed out the door. Anya smiled in the wake of his departure. "Perhaps he'll get the message."

The casual way she said the words bothered Buffy, but she'd been doing her best to stay out of the middle of that struggle. "Is Spike really working for you?"

"For nearly three weeks. He needs money and I avoid paying all the extra taxes that usually come with employees. He's downstairs right now, in fact; he's usually in late afternoons and early evenings."

Before Buffy could say anything, Anya moved from behind the counter to the basement door. "Spike, could you come up here?"

"He's been here the whole time?" Dawn asked.

"Why do you think I wouldn't let you go downstairs? There you are," she said as he emerged from below. "Buffy didn't believe me when I said you were working here."

He stared at Anya, then slowly turned his head in Buffy's direction. He looked thinner, she realized, something she hadn't noticed over the past few weeks. Others details she hadn't noticed seemed more prominent in the shop's fluorescent light: the slight tiredness to his face, the darker roots he'd normally never let show, the way his hair had grown out, brushed back in an unruly manner with no assistance from hair gel. It didn't curl as it did when it was short, but waved; revealing an intriguing honey color.

He was the same, yet different. She wasn't sure what the differences were yet, but she wanted to find out. They'd go slow, make certain it was right. Then he smiled at her and she wondered how fast she could go and still be considered slow. "We're still patrolling tonight, aren't we? I mean, you're not working late or anything like that?"

"My schedule's flexible. The boss lady understands about certain commitments."

Anya was smiling approvingly from him. Lord, that mixer Anya had dragged her to in July, saying they both needed to meet new men. Too many margaritas and two pints of ice cream later, Buffy had spilled out the whole story of her affair with Spike, desperate with the need to talk to someone who wouldn't look at her like she had two heads. Anya had pronounced the situation sad, that Spike was well deserving of a vengeance wish. Watching the spoon she held weave dramatically in the air, Buffy had agreed and pronounced herself ready to be venged upon.

Margaritas and Ben & Jerry's really didn't mix.

Wondering if Anya even remembered how she'd ended up sleeping on the Summers' couch that night, Buffy tried to cover her nervousness with a chipper smile. "So, about eight-thirty? That'll give Dawn and I time to have dinner." It was on the tip of her tongue to invite him, but she really needed to talk to her little sister, who was currently staring at her as if she'd traded the leather in her wardrobe for polyester.

"I'll see you then."

Taking her cue to escape, she told Dawn to gather up her things and made a beeline for the door. She managed to concentrate on how nicely the doorframe had been painted, but just before they left the shop, her resolve left her and Buffy snuck a look back at where he stood. He was watching her fondly, his head tilted to one side in that way of his. Just as her knees began to melt away, Dawn sailed past her and caught her hand, dragging her out the door.

On the sidewalk outside the shop, Dawn uttered one word: "Give."

All the way home, Buffy did just that.

Go on to Chapter Four

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