She was almost to the doorway. Part of him wanted to just let her go, to curl up and nurse his wounds in peace. But the rest of him….

“I know why you can’t….” The words burst out of him, but he was able to stop himself before he could finish.

He knew why she couldn’t love him. Why she couldn’t give him a real chance, despite the kiss she’d just given him. He didn’t have a soul. It didn’t seem like the time to talk about any of that, not with everything going on right now. Except…. Maybe if she knew what he’d been considering, she’d know she really could trust him. That what he’d endured today hadn’t been a fluke.

“There’s a way. For a vampire to get a soul without the curse.” Buffy stood frozen at the door, no indications of what she was feeling except for the increase in her heart rate. “There’s, uh, there’s this demon. In Africa. If you prove your dedication and worth by making it through a series of deadly trials, he’ll restore something you used to have.”

Had she understood his meaning? He didn’t want to make the pain worse by directly mentioning the other vampire who loved her. You couldn’t have something restored if you already had it. And if Angel didn’t have his soul….

Her scent was full of too many emotions for him to make out clearly, though there was a flash of grief that he was certain meant she’d figured it out. He couldn’t leave it like this. He had to do something. Say something so she wouldn’t leave thinking about him and the hell he’d put her through.

“I can’t go now,” he blurted out. “Can’t leave you and the bit without help while Glory is still out there. But after….”

“Can’t,” Buffy echoed quietly after a moment of awkward silence. The word had an odd weight to it, like there was a hidden treasure inside. “Can’t, not won’t. You can’t leave us.”

She finally turned away from the door and looked at him. There was too much emotion. Too much weight to that gaze. He suddenly felt self-conscious. It seemed like she was staring right into him. He already knew his inner self wasn’t up to her standards. And his outer…. He couldn’t see himself in a mirror, but he knew he had to look fairly hideous. Despite what Buffy had said when she’d pretended to be the bot, the wounds weren’t sexy. They were grotesque. Especially the ones on his face.

He turned away, ducking his head and telling himself he was giving her the space to leave. He heard her footsteps, but they were coming closer instead of taking her out of the crypt.

Her fingers gently curled under his chin and lifted his face to look up at her. “No,” she said softly. “You don’t get to hide either.”

Either? He pulled away from her hand, tilting his head as he studied her. He couldn’t tell what she was feeling or thinking, but if he had to guess…. What he’d said had shaken her.

“I meant what I said,” he said, quietly. “The trials might kill me,  but if that’s what you need so you can…. I’ll do it, once we’ve got the nibblet safe.”

She nodded slowly. “I know.” Then she took a deep breath. “I know you’d do it. And I don’t want you to.”

What? He was too stunned to say it out loud. Could only widen his eyes as his face conveyed the sentiment.

“All of this,” she gestured to his bloody and battered body, “could have been avoided, and you know it. But you refused to betray us. You did that. Just the way you are now. No soul needed.” She took another deep breath, trying to steady herself. “And that’s how I know I can trust you. I don’t have to worry that you’ll lose it and turn on me. That you’ll lose it, and you won’t…”

She shook her head. Then she leaned forward and kissed him again. Like before, he could feel the warmth of her skin through the pain of his swollen lips. The first kiss had been one of gratitude. This was different. This was the beginning of acceptance. Of belonging.

“Buffy,” he whispered hoarsely as she pulled away.

“Get some rest,” she said quietly. “I’ll bring you some blood later.”

Then she turned and walked away, quietly leaving him to heal.