A Thousand Kisses
She was walking home through downtown streets, not paying attention, when she almost ran in to him. “Oh, Spike. Um, hi.” Her face colored. She hadn’t had time to steel herself for his presence.
She didn’t realize her mother’s brooch had fallen from her jacket. He bent to pick it up. Winced a bit as the unclasped pin bit his finger. He unconsciously raised it to his lips, but she stopped him. “You’re hurt,” she said, inspecting the tiny wound. “It’s my fault.”
“It’s nothing, pet. Just a scratch.”
“You’re hurt and it’s my fault.” A tear fell, splashing his finger. “I hurt you. My fault.” The dam burst as the tears ran down her face. “All my fault.”
He tipped her head up and looked into her big, sad eyes. “What is it, love?”
“How many times have I hit you, Spike? How many? Fifty? A Hundred?” She forced the words through her sobs.
“Don’t matter, Buffy. I’ve given my share, too.”
“How many times did I hit you unprovoked? Hit you till you bled? Hit you till you bruised?” She cupped his cheek in her palm. “How many?”
“Told you, don’t matter.” He tilted his head, pressing his face into her palm. “Whatever you need.”
“How can I say I’m sorry? How can I make it up to you?” she asked.
“I’ll take a kiss.” He pressed one into her palm.
“A hundred kisses wouldn’t make up for what I’ve done to you. A thousand. Ten thousand.”
“Maybe not,” he grinned, tears filling his eyes too. “But it’s a start.”