Disclaimer: Everything is Joss Whedon's, not mine.

Thanks again to Sanity Fair for cleaning up my commas. This is a short little piece - only two chapters, but it wouldn't leave my head, so I had to write it down. Enjoy. 


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Chapter 2
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Buffy had passed out fairly rapidly on the couch, given the combination of beer and having been up for nearly eighteen hours. For the first time in a few years she dreamed about Sunnydale, about Spike standing there, glowing with an almost holy light, looking like an avenging angel as their hands linked and burned. She tossed and turned, never quite waking up but just replaying the tape over and over. The dreams had been a constant for the first couple years. She had told no one how every night Spike burned while she told him she loved him and was rejected. The cave collapsed and buried him as she watched, night after night. Or she would be on the edge of the crater, and Spike would be standing in the center, burning in the sun, and no matter how fast she ran the crater was a chasm that couldn’t be crossed, and she always arrived to a pile of dust that evaporated in the wind.
 
She finally woke up around two in the afternoon, and regretted it the moment she sat up. Her head was pounding, and she realized she had gone to sleep without brushing her teeth or showering. She felt gross as she stumbled to the kitchen to find a glass of water and some painkillers. She idly wondered for the umpteenth time why the Slayer healing didn’t seem to take care of hangovers. She started a pot of coffee before cautiously opening the bedroom door a crack. Since Spike appeared to be still sleeping she crept in, grabbed some clean clothes and headed to the shower. The hot water felt good as she stood there, trying to figure out what to do next. Spike is here. What do I do about it? Seeing him confirmed what she had suspected – she still cared deeply for him. She had settled for Steve then settled for solitude because no one could really fill the hole Spike had left behind.
 
But he doesn’t love you anymore. You have no right to him. He hadn’t come back after Sunnydale. His parting words burned in her mind, “No you don’t, but thanks for saying it.” He hadn’t believed her. Why should he? She had used him; she had kissed Angel practically in front of him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Angel had implied that he had known about her affair with the Immortal. “I know you need someone who understands immortality,” he had said when he showed up at her doorstep. Spike had heard about that too. That would explain why he wasn’t running back to me after he got his body back.
 
The water started cooling off, so she got out, still thinking while she toweled dry. Maybe she could ask him to stay in touch. She wouldn’t beg him to stay – that would be unfair. He would stay out of pity or some sense of duty if he did, and she couldn’t in good conscience tie him down again. But if she could just… call him sometimes. When the loneliness got too terrible, when she had those nights where she wanted to let a vampire drain her, just to see if that would finally release her from this never ending battle that she was too tired to fight. She couldn’t talk to the others anymore about this. Dawn was scared for her family, and Willow was busy, and Xander didn’t get it. But if she could just have an occasional immortal confidante, that might make it bearable. She combed her hair and got dressed, chewing her lip the whole time, afraid to hope.
 
***********************
 
The sound of the bedroom door closing softly woke Spike. It had taken him ages to fall asleep. He had been content to lie there, reveling in Buffy’s scent covering the sheets, in the sound of her heartbeat in the next room. She’s here. I never thought to see her again. He found himself waiting for the other shoe to fall. At some point, she was going to bring up the fact that he hadn’t come to see her after he got his body back, after which she would probably throw him out on his ass. She had been too surprised last night, but it was coming. Can’t really blame her. I let her mourn me for no good reason. But it’s over now. I’m probably just bringing up bad memories for her. Best thing would be to get out of town before I hurt her again. He considered slipping out while she was showering but figured that was no way to repay her hospitality. She could have tossed him out, staked him, punched him in the nose and left, anything other than bringing him in for a drink. She at least deserved to get the chance to have her say.
 
He got up and got dressed, wandering out into the apartment. He skirted the beam of sunlight that indeed landed right in the middle of the couch in order to take a seat in the armchair. He was hungry, but his demon would have to wait. Her fridge barely held food for her, let alone for a visiting vampire. The bathroom door opened and she came out, dressed and showered, albeit with circles under her eyes.
 
“Morning,” she said, a little shyly. “Want some coffee?”
 
“Thanks. Definitely take you up on that.”
 
“Come into the kitchen. No windows in there.” He followed her into the tiny galley kitchen and perched on one of two stools at a built in table against one wall. She put some coffee in front of him and sat down with her own mug. “Hope you like it black. I don’t buy a lot of food usually.”
 
“I noticed,” he said. “What do you live on? Air?”
 
“I tend to eat out a fair amount. It’s sort of a drag cooking for one. Always too many leftovers.” They sipped their coffee in silence for a moment or two. Then Buffy said, “Where are you off to next?”
 
Spike shrugged. “Don’t have a plan really,” he admitted. “Never seen the Grand Canyon. Maybe I’ll head up that way. How about you?”
 
Buffy shrugged in turn. “I have to finish cleaning out these Coralis. Then I guess I’ll call Giles and see where he needs me next.”
 
“Don’t you ever take a break?” Spike asked, noting that in the daytime she looked even more colorless and pale somehow.
 
“Not really. I usually find someone to visit at Christmas. Otherwise, I just slay, relocate, slay some more. I’ve become quite the expert in moving. I can get everything in two suitcases and a carry-on, and I can pack in about ten minutes, if I need to. I’ve pared down to the essentials.”
 
“I noticed your pictures. Your boy looks just like you,” Spike mentioned.
 
Buffy smiled a little. “Not really. His face is all Steve. But he does have my hair and eyes. I guess he’s into sports and stuff.” Her smile faded quickly. She got up and went to the fridge saying, “Do you want anything?” as she rummaged inside.
 
This girl has avoidance down to a choreographed ballet, Spike mused. “Unless you have some leftover blood, I’ll stick to coffee.” Buffy came back with some yogurt and a bagel. Spike watched her as she ate, avoiding his eyes for the most part. “I could help you with the Coralis you know. Not like I have anything pressing at present.”
 
Buffy looked up and swallowed. “I appreciate that. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I mean I don’t want to hold you up if you want to go.”
 
“I understand, Slayer,” Spike sighed. “As soon as the sun goes down I’ll get out of your hair, I promise.” He finished his coffee and went to the sink to rinse it out. He turned back to see that Buffy’s face had fallen a bit, and she was staring deep into her yogurt cup, as if trying to find the mysteries of the universe within.
 
Spike found himself puzzled by her behavior. Is she trying to get rid of me or not? To break the awkward silence he said, “Do you mind if I use your shower?”
 
“Go ahead,” she said. “Towels are in the cabinet in there.” He thanked her and was soon shutting the bathroom door, not seeing the tears that trickled down her cheeks the minute his back was turned.
 
*****************
 
As soon as she heard the shower come on she pushed away her coffee cup, put her head down on her arms, and cried. She fought to be silent about it, chewing her lip raw as she shook and wept. Please don’t leave me. I’m so tired. Please. But she knew it was hopeless. She sat up and got a paper towel to wipe off her face, carefully checking in the bedroom mirror to make sure that it didn’t look like she had been crying. He doesn’t need me guilt tripping him into staying. She went into the living room and turned on the TV to some game show, curling up on the couch.
 
Spike came out with tousled curls, looking very easy on the eyes. Buffy couldn’t help the faint smile that came to her lips. “What made you decide to go natural again?”
 
“Peroxide is in short supply in demon dimensions, believe it or not,” Spike replied, ruefully running his hand through his hair. “When I got back it felt like too much work, so I left it.”
 
“Ah,” she said. Spike sat down in the armchair and they both turned to the TV for a few minutes. Still watching Vanna White Buffy asked, “So you’re off to the Grand Canyon next, you said?”
 
Spike scratched his head thoughtfully. “Not particularly sure. Never really have any destination in mind. Just sort of point my bike where the mood strikes me.”
 
“You got another bike?”
 
“Yeah. Won it off some demon in a poker game. I had to pretend I was mad because he didn’t have kittens.”
 
Another half smile came and went in a flash. Talking to him is so easy. Her stomach clenched at the thought that soon he would walk out that door and she would be back to her empty existence. “Can I… is there any way I can reach you?”
 
Spike looked at her curiously. “I did manage to pick up a cell phone in my travels,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?”
 
Buffy blushed slightly, and she stumbled over her words. “It’s… it’s been good talking to you. I’d like to keep in touch. Unless you’d rather not, in which case…”
 
“When did you and I become such cowards, Slayer?”
 
***********************
 
When Spike got out of the shower it had been painfully obvious that Buffy had been crying and was trying desperately to hide it. She was curled up, defensive, carefully avoiding anything that seemed like she was trying to talk about their relationship. At first he thought it was her trying to find a polite way to get him out of there quickly, but then she asked if they could keep in touch. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore and blurted out, “When did you and I become such cowards, Slayer?”
 
Buffy jumped, confused and startled. “Cowards?”
 
As he sprawled in the chair, he looked her over. She’s too thin. She’s got circles under her eyes big as hockey pucks. Looks fucking miserable, but won’t say anything. What the hell is going on? “Look at the two of us. We’ve saved the bloody world a dozen times, fought every demon in the catalog, died and came back more times than anyone has a right to, and yet here we sit, unable to actually say what we’re thinking.”
 
Stiffening, Buffy said, “What… what do you think I’m thinking?”
 
“I’m thinking you’re looking for a polite way to throw me out on my ass.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, blue eyes boring into hers. “I mean, you have every right to be pissed at me. I didn’t have the decency to tell you I was back – any of the times I was back. I just can’t figure out why you’re being so polite to me and all. You’ve never had any trouble telling me exactly what you think of me before. Why now?”
 
Buffy’s eyes widened. “That’s… that’s not it. Not at all.” Her voice was still too controlled, like she was squeezing every word out through a space in her throat that was too small.
 
Spike’s mouth hung open as he tried to figure her out. “Then… then what? You can tell me. I can take it.”
 
Buffy stood up suddenly and walked over to the window, staring out into the lengthening afternoon shadows. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to me anymore. You… you’ve moved on. I get that. I don’t want you to see the pathetic nothing I’ve turned out to be and feel sorry for me.” Her voice wobbled a little, and she cleared her throat. “I never gave you anything. I took and took from you. You deserve better. You’ve suffered enough.” She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, waiting for him to agree with her.
 
Spike’s chin threatened to hit the floor as his mouth dropped open wider. She wasn’t trying to get rid of him. She was trying to do the right thing by him, at whatever cost to herself. Oh, Slayer. He stood up and went over to her, avoiding the patch of sunlight and gently putting his hand on her shoulder.
 
At his touch her whole frame shuddered, and she turned to him. “Come here,” he whispered, and he pulled her gently into an embrace. As his arms encircled her she lost it and clutched at him, burying her face in his shirt and shaking. “Shh, Buffy. I’ve got you.”
 
“It’s been so long,” she whispered. “No one’s…” Her voice trailed off and she burrowed deeper into his chest, still vibrating with emotion.
 
With a wrenching feeling Spike realized that she meant that no one had held her, talked to her, or cared for her in far, far too long. He stroked her blonde hair, closing his eyes and just feeling her nearness. Wordlessly he maneuvered them over to sit on the couch, still holding her close. “Talk to me, Slayer. Tell me.”
 
His quiet statement seemed to open a floodgate. With her eyes squeezed shut and her arms clutching him tight words started spilling out. “I was so proud of you. I missed you so much. When I found out that I was never going to die, that I was going to be trapped forever in this body, in this life, I wished with all my heart that you were here because you’d understand. No one really got it. It was like, ‘Hey great! Now you can slay without worrying!’ I tried to call Angel once, but he didn’t have time to talk. The Immortal didn’t really care about me, he just wanted to do a Slayer.”
 
 A morning in an abandoned house replayed in Spike’s head: Is that what this is about? Doing a Slayer? “Wankers, both of them,” he muttered.
 
Buffy continued as if she hadn’t heard, the words flowing out in a torrent. “Then to find out that you had been there all along and didn’t… didn’t want to talk to me and that I was never going to get a chance to tell you I was sorry about the amulet and kissing Angel and all that…”
 
“Buffy.”
 
“…and you didn’t believe me, and I understand why, but it was true, I did love you and I never stopped, and it hurt so much…”
 
“Buffy,” he repeated, and this time she heard him and stopped, looking up at him fearfully, like she was expecting to be rejected. “I was wrong.”
 
“No,” she protested. “You were right. I’m not safe to be around, physically or emotionally. The first Slayer was right – death is my gift. I get people killed, I drive them away…”
 
“Bollocks,” he interrupted with more force than he had yet. “You listen to me now. When I first popped out of that amulet I was a ghost. Couldn’t touch anything, kept bloody disappearing all the time. The first thing I did was ask about you.” Her eyes widened at his statement, but she said nothing. “By the time I got my body back I had convinced myself that I had a purpose, helping Angel and his crew. Wanted you to remember me as a hero. Didn’t want to be an anchor around your neck.”
 
“No. You were never… “ She couldn’t speak for a moment. Finally, in a voice barely audible even to the vampire she whispered, “I love you. I waited too long to tell you. I love you, but you need to go and I don’t want to hold you back anymore. But know that I love you. When you’re out there, just remember that, okay?” She started crying in earnest then, as if ten years of pent up tears were all being let loose at once.
 
“Do you want me to leave?” Spike asked. When she hesitated he added, “Tell me what you want, Slayer. Not what you think I want. I want to know what Buffy wants.” Still she couldn’t bring herself to say anything until he put his hand under her chin and lifted her tearstained face. “Please,” he said in the tenderest of whispers.
 
“I want… I want you to stay,” she said in a small voice. “I have no right to ask you to. You don’t owe me anything. But I just don’t want to be alone anymore. Please.”
 
In response he gathered her close. After rocking her back and forth for a few minutes he murmured into her tangled hair. “I get it, you know. If you live forever, you’ve got to watch everyone else die. Must seem like the only way to avoid endless funerals is to go it alone.” She nodded slightly, still curled up in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Buffy. I never would have left you alone. I never meant to be one of those fools that left you. I didn’t realize I was needed.”
 
“You were. You are.” Her voice was barely understandable.
 
“Look at me, pet.” Gasping and wiping her eyes with the back of her hands she looked up at him, afraid of what she might see. “Buffy, I love you. I never stopped.” He bent and kissed her then, slowly and gently. When he pulled back he saw that her eyes were finally focused on him, even though she was still practically vibrating with nervous tension.
 
“You mean it?” she asked uncertainly. “It’s not just… pity? Or duty? I don’t want…”
 
“Listen,” he said, his voice low and caressing. “As I told you before, you’re the one, Buffy. I know you don’t want to be the one sometimes. But for me, there’s never been anyone in my life even close to you. Not Drusilla, not anyone. No one meant so much. Nobody else made me a better person. Nobody else gave me purpose and focus like you have. Even when I was away from you, I wanted to be worthy of you. Wanted to fight on your side, even if I was never going to see you again.”
 
“This is… it’s too much,” Buffy cried, shaking her head. “I was so… resigned to being alone. It’s just, oh Spike.” She clung to him again, squeezing him so tightly that he was grateful he didn’t need to actually breathe. He clung to her in return as they both wept tears of joy and relief and regret for wasted years. Finally, Buffy’s tears subsided and she sat up, still looking like she expected to wake up from this dream at any moment. “I’ll be right back.” She reluctantly released him and went into the bathroom, leaving Spike happily shell-shocked. Buffy loves me. Nothing else matters.
 
*******************
 
Buffy went into the bathroom to blow her nose and wipe her face. She once more looked at herself in the mirror. She looked terrible, she thought, with her reddened eyes and nose, but for the first time in a long time she didn’t get depressed at the sight of her unchanged face. Spike loves me. He doesn’t want to leave. He understands. The wave of gratitude and relief nearly made her knees buckle. Still, she didn’t quite want to let herself believe that Spike was here, and he wanted to stay. She was certain that when she walked out into the living room it would be empty. Taking a deep breath she opened the door.
 
As she emerged from the bathroom Spike stood up from the sofa and approached her. They drifted toward each other slowly, as if each expected the other to vanish in a puff of smoke at any moment. At last they were standing face to face. Buffy searched his features for any sign that he was doing this out of some sense of obligation or pity. All she found in those blue eyes was love and a pent-up longing. Despite this she was afraid to move. How does he want this to go?
 
Without a word, Spike’s hands slowly came up and cupped her face, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks and his fingers running through her hair. Slowly, as if to give her every chance to back out, he bent his head to hers and kissed her. Buffy’s arms wound their way around him as she returned the kiss. His lips were still as soft as she remembered and when his tongue gently traced her lips they parted automatically, her breath catching as her body remembered old sensations. It’s been so long. God, it’s been so long, her brain kept repeating. She hadn’t kissed anyone in longer than she could remember, and she had been celibate since her marriage broke up. Now Spike’s scent surrounded her, his cool mouth was on hers, and it was like being rescued from a deserted island.
 
The kiss went on and on until they finally came up for air, foreheads touching, both of them gasping. “Buffy,” Spike breathed. “Do you want..?” He was trembling, uncertain. In response Buffy took his hand and led him into the bedroom. With slightly shaky fingers she pulled off her shirt and unbuttoned her jeans. He moved in and whispered, “Let me. Please.” He kissed her again, unhooking her bra one-handed while his other hand gently cradled the back of her head. Pulling away he slowly eased the bra straps down her arms, feasting his eyes on her exposed breasts for a moment before leaning in to capture first one nipple then the other with his lips, causing Buffy to moan softly at his touch. She dragged her hands up his sides, pulling gently at his t-shirt until he let go of her long enough for her to pull it over his head. She ran her hands down his bare chest, planting a line of kisses down to his navel while he nearly crooned in ecstasy. When she reached his jeans she unbuttoned them, continuing her kisses downward until her nose was nestled in the curly patch of hair exposed by his open fly.
 
Spike tugged gently on her arms to bring her back up to his level, holding her close as they both reveled in the feeling of skin on skin. They relieved each other of their jeans while they kissed until at last they were both naked. Buffy broke off the kiss, and without once dropping her eyes from Spike lay back on the bed, tugging his hand gently until he climbed onto the bed next to her. Their hands moved slowly over each other, remembering every curve and every sensitive spot. They both had more scars, but otherwise this was the same Spike that Buffy remembered. She found herself wishing she had more hands to trace every muscle, to revel in the strength of his body. Her hand drifted down to his erection, and he groaned as she rubbed her thumb over the little spot near the base that drove him crazy. He returned the favor by sliding a finger down into the pool of moisture growing between her legs then fingering her clit with the feathery dancing movements that sent her nerves soaring. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and begged, “Please. I need you inside me. Please.”
 
Still moving like a man in a dream he rolled on top of her, linked his hands in hers and entered her with infinite slowness. “Fuck, you’re so tight, love.” He closed his eyes to drink in the sensation of sinking inch by inch into her depths.
 
“Forgot how big you are,” Buffy gasped.
 
Looking down at her with concern he said, “Am I hurting you?”
 
“No, not at all. It’s good.” And it was – it had been so many years since a man had taken her, and Steve’s cock had nothing on Spike. They moved together, his cock hitting her in all the well remembered places, her muscles gripping him tight.
 
This was like nothing that had gone before. They were hyper-focused on each other, drinking in every sigh, every slightest movement, melding into one being. She pulled his head down and traced the veins on his neck with her tongue, eliciting a growl from the vampire. “Christ, that’s good.” He returned the favor, nibbling and sucking until she was writhing beneath him.
 
“Spike… oh God… I can’t…”
 
“Yes, baby. Yes. Let go… got you. Let go.”
 
“Spike!” she screamed as her body convulsed with her release. With a roar Spike followed her down into a spiral of ecstasy. Spike all but collapsed on her, gasping with unnecessary breaths. He shifted to the side so as not to crush her, gathering her close as they both rode out the aftershocks. As Buffy gradually came back to herself she realized that Spike was trembling like a leaf in her arms.
 
“Spike?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“You’re shaking.”
 
“Yeah,” he repeated. He brought his hand up to stroke her face, opening those piercing blue eyes to feast on the sight of her. “Been a long time for me too. Forgot how good it could feel.”
 
Buffy put her hand over his, reveling in his touch. “How long has it been for you?”
 
“Since before the battle in LA,” Spike admitted. The shaking calmed as they snuggled closer, reassuring each other that they were really there.
 
“You mean you and Blue never…”
 
“No. She was a goddess and a warrior, but had no interest in me that way. Carried the torch for Wesley a bit but generally had no need for anything approximating human relationships.” He leaned over and kissed her eyelids, her nose, her lips. “I had forgotten what I was missing. Got so used to doing without, you know?”
 
“Yeah, I know what that’s like.” She kissed him in return, gently. For a long time they said nothing else, content just to hold each other close. After a while Spike’s erection stirred again and their cuddling turned once more to making love. They stayed side by side, with Buffy’s leg thrown over Spike’s hip as he moved slowly within her. Every touch was exquisite as they reacquainted themselves with each other. As the heat built between them they rolled so that Buffy was on top, riding him with a maddeningly slow pace that had him growling with need. Smiling, she took pity on him and gradually sped up her movements, squeezing him rhythmically with all her muscles. He threw his head back and babbled, “Fuck, Slayer… Buffy… shit that’s so good… Buffy… lover… love you.”
 
With a throaty moan Buffy sank deeper with each thrust until she felt Spike begin to convulse beneath her. “Yes… Spike!” she practically screamed as her own orgasm overtook her. The high lasted even longer, which Buffy hadn’t thought was possible until she finally came to rest, draped over Spike like a blanket. “God, that was…” Words utterly failed her as she panted into his white chest.
 
“Yes it was,” Spike agreed with a slight chuckle at her lack of vocabulary.
 
Buffy ran her hand back and forth over his skin, wondering if she had ever felt this good. She honestly couldn’t remember if Angel or Riley had ever made her feel this content. It frightened her a bit. Is this real? Will this last? Oh God, how am I going to live if I have to go back to the way it was? Knowing what I could have… She chewed her lip as a frown line appeared between her eyes. “Spike?”
 
“Yes, love,” the vampire answered, idly playing with her hair.
 
When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but deadly serious. “If you ever need to leave, will you kill me first?”
 
Spike shifted to be able to look her in the eyes. “What?”
 
She looked away, addressing her next remarks to his chest. “I know that… people leave. No one stays forever. I just don’t want to go back to living alone again. So I just want you to promise you’ll…”
 
“No.” His voice was stern, almost angry, and she jumped and sat up, shying away from him slightly. He grabbed her shoulders and made her face him. “You listen to me, Buffy Summers. I’ll never leave you. I was faithful to Dru for a century, and she treated me like crap half the time. She left me. I don’t leave.”
 
Buffy looked at him, his jaw set, his eyes tinged with gold. “I want to believe you,” she said haltingly.
 
“Then do,” he replied with a little less heat. “I love you. Won’t let you go unless you throw me out or I dust.”
 
She shuddered a bit, not having considered that possibility. “If you dusted I don’t know what I’d do.”
 
Spike leaned against the headboard and pulled her into his lap, cradling her. They sat for a while, a few tears trickling slowly down Buffy’s cheeks until Spike broke the silence by saying perhaps the last thing Buffy expected to hear. “What do you know about claims?”
 
************************
 
Christ, I had no idea how much I missed her. When he had entered her, it had been like a homecoming. Everything was deeply familiar, but the sweetness and the mutual tenderness were new and he found himself craving it like an instantly addictive drug. But then as he had floated on the after effects of their lovemaking she had dragged him down to earth with her request. Kill her? Never could before when I hated her, why would she think I could do it now? At the same time, he understood what she was getting at. Fear of being alone was eating at her – any fool could see that. He knew how it was, because Lord knows he was feeling it himself. He’d had no idea how alone he was until he had sunk into her depths and breathed in her long forgotten scent. Her pain and isolation were palpable. She had lost so much, so many times. But for once his demon actually had a good idea. Claim her. Bind the two of us together forever. Once the idea came to him, he had to voice it. “What do you know about claims?”
 
A puzzled look came over Buffy’s face. “They’re a ritual between vampires, right?”
 
“A mating ritual of sorts,” he explained. “It links them, mentally and emotionally. It’s pretty rare, because it’s permanent. The only thing that can break it is death, and the death of one usually means the death of the other.”
 
The puzzled look only deepened. “But what does that mean for us? Do you want to..?”
 
He shook his head, seeing where she was going. “No Buffy, I don’t want to turn you. Wouldn’t do that to someone I loved. But as far as I know, it can work with just one vampire. The effects might not be as pronounced, but…”
 
“You would do that? Bind yourself to me forever?” Buffy interrupted, her jaw dropping in disbelief.
 
“If you’d have me,” Spike replied. He took her small hands in his. “This is irrevocable though. I can understand if you’d want to think about it…”
 
“I don’t need to think about it at all,” Buffy said decisively, clutching at his hands. “To never have to be alone again, to not have to survive everyone? I never thought I could even wish for that.” She looked down at their linked hands and said in a small voice, “Are you sure you want me? After the way I treated you?”
 
In response, he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. “That’s all water under the bridge now, pet. I love you, and I want to be with you.” He met her eyes and searched them, looking for any hesitation and finding nothing.
 
Buffy shifted so that she was sitting on his lap, her legs wrapped around him and her hands stroking his face. “I love you, William. Tell me what to do.”
 
“You’ll know,” he answered. He kissed her again and didn’t stop. The caresses went on until once more Buffy could feel Spike’s hardness rising beneath her. Spike put his hands on her hips and coaxed her upward, settling her on his erection and sinking into her warmth. They rocked together in perfect synchrony, hands roaming, tongues mingling. Spike waited until he could feel her reaching the edge then vamped out against her neck. Buffy felt the shift of his face and tilted her head to allow her hair to fall away. He nibbled delicately down the length of her jugular, causing her to gasp and moan. Finally as he felt her muscles begin to clamp down on his cock he pierced her neck as gently as he could.
 
“God, Spike, yes!” she practically screamed as Spike drank a long, delicious draught of her life blood.
 
“Mine,” he purred. “You’re mine. Always mine.”
 
“Yours, oh God, yours, Spike it’s so good… yours… I’m yours.” She regained enough control to bring her head down and bite his neck in return. The coppery taste spread over her tongue and her mind swirled with colors, like it had when she had tasted Dracula’s blood so long ago. “Mine. Please be mine,” she pleaded.
 
“Fuck, I’m yours, oh fuck…yours…Buffy!” He pulled her hips down hard as he rammed completely into her, throwing his head back and roaring out his climax.
 
It was like a key in a lock. Both of their minds suddenly became aware of an additional presence, vague at first but increasing in strength, like a radio tuning in. Years of loneliness surfaced in both of their memories, vanishing in a sea of emotion. It was always you, Slayer. No one else. Always you, from the moment I saw you.
 
I know, Spike, came the answer in his mind. All these years I loved you. When I was marrying another man I loved you. Just you. They slid down under the covers, drowning in bliss.
 
*******************
 
They spent the entire night in each other’s arms, kissing, making love, and silently talking it all out. Spike heard all about the long year after the battle in LA, when Buffy had alternated between hating Spike and blaming herself for driving him away. Spike experienced her memories of feeling like she was living a lie as she lay in the arms of the father of her child while desperately wishing he was someone else. She had distanced herself from everyone, consciously and unconsciously, as the reality of immortality sank deeper and deeper into her psyche. The break with her sister should have been a blow, but instead it had been added to the endless list of disappointments with hardly a comment. Spike found it almost physically painful to know how she had walled herself off and sunk into loneliness and silence.
 
Spike’s experience had been easier in some ways. Kill or be killed was something he understood; fighting was what he was good at. But he too had memories of being alone, sleeping on the ground in some cave or hideout, Ilyria physically near but emotionally absent. He recalled those nights when he replayed their wild couplings in his mind to find some sort of consolation. When he returned and found out that she was married he had run off to South America to escape the pain of that knowledge. Somehow it had been even worse than seeing her with the Immortal, because it seemed to indicate that she had finally chosen the vaunted normal life and turned her back on the Slayer lifestyle for good. He imagined that she would finally get the rest she deserved, and drifted south to find something to do. As he recounted his struggles to be of service to the villagers who took him in Buffy’s pride in him filled his mind over their link. I feel like a right ass, he said silently at one point. I shouldn’t have given up so easily.
 
Neither of us couldn’t have known. Maybe we needed the years in between to be able to let go of all the baggage, she responded. Their heads were side by side on the pillows as they drank in each other’s eyes and communicated telepathically.
 
Maybe we did, he concurred. He smiled as she stifled a yawn. Tired, pet?
 
A little.
 
Wonder why? It’s not like we haven’t been making love for six hours or something.
 
Buffy smiled at that. New record then?
 
Guess so. He grinned back and kissed her. Why don’t we get some sleep?
 
Good idea. Buffy snuggled into his chest. You’ll really be there in the morning?
 
You know I will. Sleep well my love.
 
Love you too, she replied as her thoughts drifted off into a faint buzz, and she fell asleep. Spike kissed her once more on the top of her head and joined her in slumber.
 
********************
 
It had been nearly three in the morning when they fell asleep, and it was after noon when they woke. Buffy opened her eyes to find that Spike was already awake, watching her with an adoring look on his face. “Morning, love.”
 
Buffy squinted at the clock. “Afternoon you mean.”
 
“How did you sleep?”
 
“Better than I have in ages,” Buffy answered truthfully. “I could use a shower though.”
 
“Want company?” Spike asked with a leer.
 
Like you have to ask, she chided as she tackled him for a kiss. The shower lasted long enough for the hot water to run out and the shower curtain to get ripped as they pleasured each other. When they finally finished and dried off they made their way, breathless, into the kitchen. “I am starving,” Buffy declared, rummaging in her fridge.
 
“Surprised you’re not dehydrated,” Spike purred, coming up behind her. He reached around and cupped her breast with one hand and her sex with the other. “You’re so wet all the time, you should be wrung dry.”
 
“Mmm,” she moaned. “Cut it out or I’m going to pass out from lack of food”
 
“At which point I can have my way with you,” Spike teased.
 
“Pig.”
 
“Ah, there’s the girl I remember.” Spike grinned and let her go with a little nibble at her neck.
 
“Behave,” she mock-scolded. “Or no more Slayer for you.”
 
“Yes ma’am,” he said meekly. He sat down and watched her while she pulled out the least scary of her leftovers, heated them up, and sat down to eat them.
 
“When I’m done with this I’ll go out and get you something,” she said. “I don’t think a couple of sips of Slayer blood is going to keep you going for that long.”
 
“You’d be surprised. You Slayers are pretty tasty. Bloody walking aphrodisiacs, all of you.”
 
“Lucky for me then,” she grinned. She finished eating and cleared the table. Spike busied himself making a pot of coffee while she went and threw on some clothes. “I’ll be back soon,” she said, giving him a quick but passionate kiss before scuttling out the door.
 
Spike smiled and shook his head. You’re amazing, love.
 
You too. The telepathy was certainly a unique sensation, although he found that as she got further away it was harder to pick up her thoughts. He made a pot of coffee, his thoughts in a complete whirl. She loves me. She wants me here. Holy shit. When the coffee pot beeped he shook himself out of his reverie and poured himself a cup, sipping at it while he wandered the tiny apartment. The living room and kitchen had nothing unique about them whatsoever. He wandered back to the bathroom, still filled with the scent of Buffy’s favorite shampoo. The small collection of toiletries was nothing like the bewildering array of bottles and tubes that had stacked up when Buffy and Dawn and the witches were all sharing a bathroom. It was like Buffy had been camping, but without the sleeping bag and pup tent.
 
Still sipping his coffee he entered the bedroom. The smell of sex was still heavy in the air and it made him hard just remembering the previous night. There had been no one but his own hands for so many years that he had forgotten how good it could be. Now that he had remembered, he had no desire to leave, ever. Gonna take care of her. Not going to fuck things up this time. He found himself once more staring into the picture of her son. It still seemed so wrong and sad for this boy, who despite all her protestations was the spitting image of the Slayer, not to know his true origins. Bloody shame it is.
 
What is? Buffy was entering the apartment and had clearly caught his last thought. She put her bags down in the kitchen and walked into the bedroom. “What’s wrong?”
 
“Still don’t think it’s right that your boy doesn’t know who his mother is,” Spike said.
 
Buffy took the picture from him and studied her son’s face. “Maybe someday he’ll know. But for now, I want him to grow up innocent of all this. His father was a watcher. He can keep him safe. I don’t… I don’t want him to know that monsters are real yet.” She set down the picture, and Spike could feel the wistful sadness that ran through her mind.
 
You’re one in a million, you know that? He gathered her close, and her arms wound around him.
 
Not so bad yourself, she responded. She closed her eyes and rested her head contentedly on his chest.
 
What’s the plan now?
 
After we get you fed up, let’s wait until nightfall and get rid of the rest of those Corali demons. After that, I don’t care. Just stay with me.
 
Always. He bent down to capture her lips. They spent the rest of the afternoon snacking, making love, sharing memories, and making love again. When darkness fell they went and retrieved Spike’s small stash of weapons and other odds and ends then went out after the Corali demons. So it was that they found themselves standing at the door of an old warehouse, preparing to break in the door.
 
Ready, Randy? Buffy projected, with a little smirk at the memory.
 
No place else I’d rather be, Joan. Spike smiled back at her. Love you, you know that.
 
I know. And I love you too. Shall we kill things now?
 
Spike stepped back and graciously extended his hand. After you, my lady. With matching grins they kicked in the door and started a new chapter in their story.
 
The End