SPIKE: You listen to me. I’ve been alive a bit longer than you, and dead a lot longer than that. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine, and done things I’d prefer you didn’t. I don’t exactly have a reputation for being a thinker; I follow my blood, which does not always rush in the direction of my head. So I’ve made a lot of mistakes. A lot of bloody wrong calls. A hundred plus years, only one thing I’ve been sure of. You.
Look at me. I’m not asking you for anything. When I tell you that I love you, it’s not because I want you or ‘cause I can’t have you – it has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try… I’ve seen your stength, and your kindness, I’ve seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity what you are. You’re one hell of a woman. You’re the one, Buffy.
She is silently crying. He can only smile at her kindly, containing his own emotions.
BUFFY: Would you just… hold me?
They look at each other. No more words. After a moment he comes slowly to her and they lie together, wrapped in each others’ arms, her head on his chest.