Disclaimer: Joss owns all.

Part 1: This is not Nostalgia

Wringing her hands so hard she thought they'd break, Buffy paced the floor of her room. It had been days since she'd last seen him...or fucked him, or fought with him. Counting the hours between abusing him in the alley and this exact moment, abusing herself, was getting ridiculous. She was past the point of ashamed by her attraction to the dead and deadly vampire. She had moved on from disgust. Moved on from revulsion. She'd moved on...to Spike. This was raw need. And it had been too goddamn long.

Rushing down the stairs, she announced her departure to the youngest Summers, under the pretense of patrolling. And though she took with her no weapons, no crosses, no holy water, she claimed she'd be out late. Don't wait up, Willow's upstairs if you need her.

She made it to the cemetery in record time, but slowed as she entered the grounds. In all honesty, the Slayer was a bit nervous at Spike's absence of late. Nothing she'd ever attempted had kept her Demon from her. And now, when finally she craved his nearness...now he disappeared.

Pacing once more, this time through a maze of tombstones, clutching her fingers again, she took time to study them, the knuckles scabbed over. Even with gloves separating her flesh from his, the pummeling had left damage. Squinting at the injuries, she gave a harsh chuckle that was lost in the emptiness of the graveyard. The irony wasted on such a humorless night. These bruises defined the entire relationship with her undead lover. Scarring each other always, no one ever truly getting the upper hand, just small triumphs now and again; fleetingly victorious, then defeated.

She wondered how he'd make her pay. Not wasting time to delude herself into resistance, she couldn't stop him. He'd long since taken her over. And though Buffy felt she'd regret it, she ached for the submission he forced her to. She ached for him. Maybe this was it. Separating himself from her, the dealer from the druggie. Intensifying her avid addiction.

But no, she knew better. Denying her would mean denying himself. And where was the fun in that? Still, she knew he'd find someway to regain control. And enjoy it. She'd witnessed firsthand his creativity. Their perversion of a sex life had taught her many things--Spike barely batted an eyelash at sadism, even at the receiving end of it. Dysfunction was his normalcy.

And if pain was commonplace, Buffy reasoned...punishment must be Hell.

She shuddered at the thought, glancing again at the reminder of her offense. Dwelling on the events of that night, and the consequences that would most assuredly follow, she felt not guilt as much as apprehension and...puzzlement. She and Spike had battled many times throughout the years, and even her stubborn pride could admit him a formidable partner. He was the one villain she'd never dusted, the evil she could never escape. And that made all of this so much more...odd.

The vampire had never taken such a thrashing at her hand, but as she straddled him, fists driving home the point harsh words just didn't seem to be making, he didn't fight back. He could've, Buffy knew that. Could've stopped her, beaten her, bitten her. But he hadn't so much as defended himself. Hadn't bothered to shield the face she was so intent upon marring. Thinking on it now, his refusal, it infuriated her.

Determinedly, Buffy moved toward his crypt, forgetting payback, whatever danger awaited. Now she wanted answers. She knew why she'd hurt him.

But why had he let her?

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Spike could feel her coming a mile away. She'd infected so much of his system, his nerves jumped toward her approach. It sickened him, that he had allowed this to happen again, the idiocy that was all-consuming love. His affection made him stupid, sympathetic, sightless. But, he had a surround sound souvenir of just how destructive sentiment could be.

Gingerly fingering the bruise around his eye, Spike tasted bile at his own vulnerability. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. So he'd controlled himself, his demon, using only enough force to ensure she wouldn't do something so incredibly daft. He'd offered compassion in the best way he knew how. And in return, she'd tried to destroy him.

Well, he smirked at the thought of what was to come. She'd be absolved at the end of the night. She'd taken advantage of the fraction of humanity left in him, but she'd be forgiven.

Staring down at the array before him, the moonlight making silver blades shine, Spike sneered. Oh, she'd be redeemed.

The best way he knew how.