The door to Spike's crypt swung open. He jumped out of his chair, prepared to fight whatever lay on the other side. There stood the Slayer, her blonde hair soaked from the rain that was pouring outside. "Oi!" Spike cried from frustration. "Why the hell are you here, Slayer?!" He threw his arms down, exasperated.

The look on her face was blank, empty. She didn't answer, probably searching for one. She stormed over to him silently and raised a stake to his chest. "I have to kill you." He backed away and easily pulled the stake from her hand. He gave her this look that was somewhat (ok, very) one of disbelief.

"What's the real reason?" His head tilted to the side, trying to pull her in to him, tossing the stake across the crypt with a clatter.

"I have to—" Her voice broke and her hands shook. She dropped her eyes and they glossed over.

"Buffy?" His voice was gentle, and she was surprised he used her name. She felt her knees tremble, and her legs gave out under her. Her throat constricted and her eyes overflowed. He kneeled in front of her, laying his hands on her thighs. "Talk to me, pet."

"It's nothing." She sniffled feeling the weight on her chest crushing her, like nothing would ever be right again, like her heart was being squeezed and the air pressed out of her lungs.

"Wanna try again?" He lifted her chin and looked her in the eye. Tears ran down her cheeks, and before she could think, she opened her mouth.

"It's... my mom. She's gone."

"What do you—" His voice trailed off as his face went from confusion to shock and then sympathy. He was hesitant to do what he wanted, but he sat there and thought about it. Sod this, he thought, grabbing the Slayer and pulling her into his arms.

She gasped in shock and tensed up, but realizing he wouldn't hurt her, relaxed into his arms, her face buried in his shoulder. The tears came harder now, possibly due to the source of the sympathy. Spike was seeing her vulnerable, and she was mad at herself for coming here and simultaneously grateful that she could break down here. Spike couldn't hurt her, so she didn't really have to be strong here. Also, he seemed warm to her and sympathetic.

He stood up, taking her off the floor and sat down on the chair, pulling her into his lap. "I won't take advantage." His voice was so soft, coaxing her onto him, easing her when she tensed up because she was hesitant. She laid her legs across his lap and curled against him, her face buried where his shoulder met his neck. Placing his hand on her hip to keep her from falling off of him, he leaned his head against hers.

Her crying began to subside. The silence was comfortable but filled with emotion and sorrow.

"Y'know. Joyce was the only person who treated me decent." Buffy's head snapped up at Spike's words. "She was the only one who treated me like a person." Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she saw the look on his face. He looked... sad? Like he was actually mourning her.

She lowered her head again to his shoulder. Fighting with herself, she made a decision. "I'm sorry," she said sadly. He look at her, confused. Leaving it at that, Buffy sat in Spike's arms until the rain stopped, comforted by the gentle caress of the man who was supposed to be her enemy.