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Grimacing with pain, Spike maneuvered himself into a sitting position, "That's bullshit, and you know it. You use your duty as a shield. Use it to keep everyone at arms length. Buffy, you protect and nurture every one around you, yet let no one take care of you. It's easier to be distant and pretend you don't need anyone. I know different. You need love, probably more than anyone else on this earth. All you see, every day, is death. Whether it's at your hands or at the hands of some demon. It's changing you. Hell, you don't even make your little quips and puns anymore. Those girls upstairs are looking to you to teach them what it means to be the slayer. Those lessons don't include just fighting and knowledge. You have to show them your strength, and I don't mean in a physical, kick-ass way. They need to have mental, emotional, and spiritual strength also. How can you teach them that when you keep yours bottled up inside? Your heart and soul are what makes you who you are. I should know. I went halfway around the world just to get back mine. I did it for you, because you deserve the best. Now, I know that may not be me, but maybe hearing it will make you see the truth." He reached out and pulled her hand away from her face. When he saw her tears, he did the only thing he could think of... he leaned forward and kissed her.

The kiss surprised Buffy, but what surprised her even more was her response. Heat traveled from their lips, through her body and pooled in her stomach. With a sigh, she opened her mouth and ran her tongue along his lips. It was all the encouragement Spike needed. While he deepened the kiss, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. He grunted with pain when her arm hit his chest, but he never broke the kiss. He took her hands and put them around his neck, then buried the fingers of his left hand in her hair while his right hand worked it's way under her shirt and rubbed her back. Buffy tightened her hold on his neck and clasped his head to hers. She knew this should stop, but not yet. She had needed to be touched and held so badly, her body seemed to melt into him. She felt his hand fumbling with the clasp of her bra and then it was undone, and he moved his hand around and under it to hold her breast. She arched into his hand, tearing her mouth from his as she moaned. It felt so good; her nipple puckered under his palm as he moved his mouth down her neck and buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. Spike leaned back and pulled her shirt up and off, followed by her bra. Before Buffy could react, he leaned down and fastened his mouth to her nipple. Using one hand to pull on her hair and arch her backwards over his arm, he suckled and bit, teasing her nipple to a hard pebble, and then gave the same attention to it's mate.

Buffy felt herself losing control; she couldn't touch enough of him. Her hands roamed over his back and shoulders, her fingers kneading the hard muscles. She wanted him badly, needed all of him. She wanted him over her, on her, inside of her.

"Spike, please," she moaned. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel herself getting wet. Spike raised his head and looked at her flushed face.

"Are you sure this is what you want? Because if this goes any further, pet, I won't be able to stop," his English accent thicker with desire and barely leashed control.

"I need you, Spike.

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