Authors Note: I was inspired to write this little fic after I started tearing up for the zillionth time during Spike’s famous speech in Touched during some good old-fashioned late night Spuffy watching. I could never believe how Buffy offered the possibility of a relationship after the big battle and he turned it down, so I guess this is my way of making it better for myself :) Hope you enjoy!

The hugest thank you to dawnofme who beta-ed this and was so, so patient with explaining everything to me! You made this so much better than it was before :)


First Date by peroxidelove.


Spike stood up from his cot and put the amulet safely away in his coat pocket, draping the heavy leather over the back of a basement chair. With a sigh, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looked down at his trusty old coat. Everything was all set and ready to go for the next day.

He supposed there was just one thing left to do.

Rest.

Heaving another sigh, he trudged back to his makeshift bed and collapsed down noisily before arranging himself on his side. One arm bent and his hand curled under his cheek, his eyelids grew heavy and slowly drifted shut. Just on the cusp of sleep, his other hand twitched, missing the feel of soft, warm skin under it. He squeezed his eyes tightly and grabbed at the sheet, pulling it up to his chin.

Though unspoken, everyone had labeled this night as the last. The last night. And rightly so. And as the last night, he knew that Buffy would be spending it with the people she cherished the most. Dawn, Willow, Xander. Probably the Watcher too. He craved the feel of her petite form curled up with his, but she’d already given him the last two nights. Who was he to ask for more?

Balancing in the state of limbo between the land of sleep and the edge of consciousness, he thought of the previous night. He remembered the feel of her delicate fingers stroking his wrist when she thought that he was already asleep, her gentle breaths fluttering across his skin when she’d turned to face him. The way she’d brought his arm around her and clutched his hand up to her breast when she finally lost herself to slumber. Each memory he recalled sent him further and further into a peaceful sleep.

~

Out on the back porch, Buffy looked down at her handiwork. It wasn’t perfect, but in the circumstances she thought that she’d done rather well. Pulling her light jacket tighter around her, she exhaled in contentment. Everything was ready.

Now there was just one thing left to do.

Quietly, she made her way back inside and placed her hand gently on the doorknob of the basement door.

~

Her scent completely surrounded him, his skin burned with a scorching heat. But all of a sudden, it seemed to focus on his face. The burn strongest along his jaw, then on his cheek. His eyes flew open and he saw her hand there, brushing his skin with feather-light touches.

Buffy.

She’d knelt at his bed side, her green eyes wide open, not a speck of tiredness to be seen. Instead they shone with warmth, and something else that he couldn’t quite identify. Her voice was just a whisper,

“Spike? I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”

He didn’t know when he’d taken her wrist in his hand, but he tried to find his voice as he sat up.

“Buffy, is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s just fine. I just…” The gentle smile she gave him just about took away his lack of breath. “Will you come with me?” she held out her hand, palm side up.

For a moment he thought that he was still dreaming, but the warmth and the strength of her grip around the hand that he’d placed in hers told him otherwise. She stood from her position and reached for his duster before directing them out of the basement.

Standing at the back door, his hand in hers, he’d never felt more uncertain in his life.

"Buffy?"

But she just looked back at him with that unreadable expression.

"Do you trust me?"

He didn’t even need to consider his reply.

"Always."

She reached for the handle and pulled it open.

~

Spike had to blink quickly a few times just to focus properly on the picture that she’d created. She’d covered the three steps leading down from the porch with a simple rug, the edge of the porch and the banisters lit by clusters of glowing candles. More lined part of the pathway leading from the steps into the garden. The symbolism of the steps didn’t pass by him. He knew the importance they had as stepping stones in the passage of their relationship. In his heart, he understood what she’d done, but his head couldn’t do the same. He didn’t know what to ask, or what to say. So he just looked at her.

She stepped across the threshold, still holding his hand, and returned his gaze.

"For you."

She tugged on his hand, urging him to join her outside.

~

Buffy sat on the second step, leaning against the railing, her hands clutched together and resting on her knees. He sat opposite her, poised in a more relaxed version of her posture. He’d insisted that she use his duster when she’d instantly started shivering from the cold, late night breeze. They sat in silence together, just watching each other. Much like they’d done that night they shared in the abandoned house.

"This is nice, pet. Thank you."

She started a bit when he spoke, breaking the silence all around them. She gave him a shy smile, looking down at her hands.

"I had this whole plan-thing before. About everything I wanted to say…but it’s kinda not worked. As you can probably see."

"Yeah, I get that," he said with a chuckle. ‘Plans never went well with me either."

She lifted her head, her hair and eyes illuminated by the flickering glow of the candles.

"Memory lane, eh?"

After he nodded along with her, he gazed at her intently with a tilt of his head.

"Something troublin’ you, Buffy?"

"No. Well, yes…I guess. I suppose what I wanted to say is troubling me. I ju- I’m really not sure how to go about it."

He didn’t rush her. Didn’t want to rush this. The smile on his face grew bit by bit as he watched her open then close her mouth, trying to choose the right words to start with.

"I wanted to thank you, for the other night."

"No need to thank me. Every word was true. Just the truth."

Buffy exhaled uncertainly when she felt a tingle in her chest that ran outwards from her heart. She tried to shake it off, pulling at topics from the past.

"And also, I wanted to thank you for, you know, Dawn. Looking after her. And thank you for…for me. Just being there, here, after I came back. Came back, again."

He took in the sight of her with wide eyes; this was more than his souled self could ever have wished for. God knew it was more than he deserved. Inside, he knew that she was having real trouble saying whatever it was she’d brought him out to say. But he wasn’t complaining. He could sit with her for eternity to wait; just to be with her, just the two of them, sitting together and talking.

Buffy let out a little strangled sigh of frustration, word-related things always came a bit harder to her. The way he watched her, not expecting anything, just watched; like she was the most precious thing in the world. She’d never understand how he did it, how he did everything just perfectly, even when he wasn’t doing a thing. She suddenly felt so exposed and pulled his duster tighter around her, his familiar scent rising from it and overwhelming her senses.

"Why are you so good to me?"

Her voice was barely a whisper above the night breeze.

"I could never do enough for you."

She furrowed her brow and reached over to place her hand on his knee.

"No, Spike, you always did more than you had to. You were always…just there. I’d always thought that I was alone, you know? But I never was. You were always there. After everything I did to you–what did I ever do to deserve you?"

He couldn’t believe his ears, and in a very rare instance, he was lost for words. She hadn’t said it outright, but she’d acknowledged; acknowledged that even back then he’d meant something to her, even if she didn’t know it herself. Even though her words warmed his unbeating heart, his rational thought screamed out objections.

"I hurt you, Buffy," he said with a slight frown. "Nobody deserves to be hurt like that, least of all you."

"Only because I hurt you first." Her voice seemed touched by a saddened desperation.

"That still isn’t an excuse for what I-"

"Please," she whispered as the words she’d been searching for finally revealed themselves. "Let me finish. I beat you, and I hit you. And I said horrible, horrible things which I should never be allowed to forget. But you hadn’t done anything to deserve it; you’d just…been so good to me. You were good to me, so I punished you in return." Her voice gradually fell apart, cracking under the strain the emotion put on her throat.

His chest tightened at the pain this was so clearly causing her. Considering their present situation, the weight of what tomorrow would bring, this wasn’t the time for talk about the past. He took the hand on his knee, clutching it tightly and shook his head as if that would stop her from continuing. He drew in an unneeded breath at the sound of her hitching breaths and the sight of her eyes filling quickly with tears.

"Please stop, Buffy. You have to stop this."

"Why? Why should I stop! You might be the demon, Spike, but I’m the animal. A thoughtless, cold, brutal animal." The first tear ran down her cheek.

"I thought I was so much better than you, because you didn’t have a soul. Like that gave me an excuse to treat you like garbage. I should never have to stop paying for how I treated you, so why should I stop now?" Her shoulders were heaving unevenly with sobs. She was overcome with grief, as though on the edge of hysteria.

He knew he was in trouble when he felt the lump rise higher and faster in his throat. All the pain he’d caused her in the past and still, he was bringing her more. He was terrified all the more when it was obvious that she hadn’t finished yet. Pulling her shaking form a little closer to him, he brushed away her tears and rubbed her arms comfortingly.

"I let you hurt me, sweetheart. I saw your pain. I owed it to you after everything I’d done to you, to everyone around you. I wanted to help you, Buffy, but instead I–I tried to ra-," he swallowed hard and added softly, "I just gave you more pain. But look at where we are now. We can rest…you can stop now."

"But you have to know, Spike. I made my own pain; you were just trying to make it better for me. I’m sorry, so sorry for hurting you. I shouldn’t ever, ever stop saying it."

He moved closer, cradling her in his arms and feeling her shudders echo through his body.

"Yes, you should. You didn’t have to say it at all."

With a sharp breath, she looked up him from where she’d buried her face in his chest.

"Why? Why not? Why should I stop? Why do you treat me like this? Why are you so good to me? Why, why…" she trailed off as she rested her forehead against him, tears still flowing freely.

He gently twined his fingers in her golden locks, as he looked down at her and stroked the back of her head. And more to himself than her, he replied, "Because I never wanted to see you cry."

All of a sudden, her sobs stopped and she peered up at him with watery eyes. She seemed to be holding her breath. He could see the smile in her eyes when she blinked and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Oh, Spike."

They stayed as they were for a few moments, their bodies just pressed together in an intimate embrace. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile as her breathing slowed and evened, and he thought that she had fallen asleep. But just as he moved to carry her inside, she said his name so softly he thought he’d imagined it.

"Spike…do you- do you think you could give me another chance?"

"I’d never count chances with you, Buffy, even though it really should be me asking for another."

"Maybe we can both ask for one," she said with a little smile. "I want to get to know you all over again."

"Buffy, are you asking if…," he regarded her for some seconds as he watched her give a small nod. He was stumped; she was asking him if he wanted them. The world worked in mysterious ways, he decided in complete and utter awe. "I’d like that. After tomorrow," he added with a questioning tone.

"No," she said quickly with a shake of her head. "Not tomorrow. Now. Right now."

"That’s perfect too," he replied in quiet amazement.

The dark night around them lit up with the pure happiness behind her smile, and he thought that he’d never seen her look so gorgeous. His heart soared with a lightness he hadn’t felt in over a century and he ducked his head to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. They both let out matching sighs of contentment as she settled back in his arms and let her eyes fall closed.

"Some first date, huh?" she murmured.

He raised a scarred eyebrow. "You planned this all along."

They giggled with mirth like teenagers when he arranged her in his lap and picked her up. With one arm hooked under her knees and the other around her back, he carried her back into the house, the air tinged with the promise of a new beginning.

~

For the second time that night Spike lay himself down on his cot, but this time he didn’t need to delve into his memories to lull himself to sleep. This time, she made them into a reality for him with soft touches and kisses, the warmth and comfort of her presence so close by. They had one another now. They finally had each other. And in that one moment, tomorrow just didn’t matter.


end ~