A/N: There are only two more chapters - this one and the next. They are supremely rushed because the gap between the time I wrote ch 26 and this one was about 6 months. I might be revising in the future, but for now, I offer my apologies and ask that no one point out how much it sucks, lol.



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She was getting bored with this one already, and it had only been less than a minute. Pounding her fist into the vampire’s face continuously was not helping her aggression. Stepping back and delivering a kick to his head, she grumbled to herself as her pent up frustration continued. “That…stupid…vampire,” she groused in between blows.


Recovering from a hard hit, the vampire stumbled and looked up at her confused. “Are you talking to me?”


Buffy kicked him under the chin in his kneeled position, and responded with an annoyed expression, “Shut up.” The vamp opened his mouth to reply, but she whipped out a stake and flung it directly at his dead heart, seeing his body explode into dust a second later.


“Bastard,” she yelled in frustration, as she stomped away from the pile of ashes, not really speaking about that vampire at all.


Marching through the cemetery like a girl on a mission, but having none, Buffy thought about all the chaos that had been the past few days. She had tried to tell her friends the whole ridiculous story, and of course, that was followed by confused squabbles and many offers from Xander to stake Spike, just in case it was all a part of his ploy.


~


“Alright, so you’re saying that you were in a reverse world, where humans were evil and demons were good,” Xander re-stated carefully with a questioning look.


“Yes,” Buffy answered with a bored expression, awaiting the laughter.


Xander, Willow, Anya, Tara, and Giles looked at each other, while Buffy’s annoyance grew.


“A-Actually,” Willow spoke up, “I can believe that.”


“Yea, me too,” Xander, Anya, and Tara said simultaneously.


Giles added in right after, “Well, stranger things have happened in our line of work.”


Buffy stared at them suspiciously, not believing how easy that was. “But…? There is a ‘but,’ right? There’s always a ‘but’.”


“But,” Xander began, “the part where you said Spike defended the good and killed evil – now that’s ridiculous. Took your place as our hero of the day? Now, c’mon, this has got to be all evil-doings of fang-breath.”


“That is a possibility. Maybe he was working with this woman you’re talking about,” Giles suggested.


“Yea, I still don’t get why she has two names,” Xander had a confused look.


Yelling in frustration, Buffy threw up her hands. “Leanna is the blonde-ho. Kerala is the brunette-ho. Leanna is Kerala and Kerala is Leanna. Can we move on? I don’t like repeating their names in all of my sentences.”


“Ok, ok,” Xander put up his hands in defense. After a moment, he added, “But I still think we should look into this and see if Spike was involved. Who knows? He could’ve been fooling us this whole summer with his act.”


Buffy looked up, interested. “What act?”


“I-I don’t think it was an act. I thought it was sweet,” Tara smiled softly.


“Yea, you’re right. I wish Xander cared about me that much,” Anya gave her boyfriend an accusing glare.


“Hey! I do care! And I’m telling you – now that Buff has told us the story, I’m thinking it was all a ploy,” he defended.


“What act!?” Buffy yelled, cutting off their banter.


Willow spoke up, “It was cute. Spike visited you in the hospital at least once each day.”


“He did?” Buffy asked hesitantly, feeling her stomach tighten.


“Yea, and he would just sit with you until they finally kicked him out, but I think after a while, the nurse started letting him stay longer. She thought he was your boyfriend,” Tara said, amused.


“That’s probably what he was going for,” Xander added. “I bet he even made up all that stuff about the dreams he was having.”


“What dreams?” Buffy asked with furrowed brows.


“Some dreams he had about you,” Anya piped up. “At first, we thought he went off the deep end and was love-whipped or something, but then, he started having those spells randomly while he was with us, like while patrolling.”


“W-What are you talking about?” Buffy hesitated.


“We’re not really sure, either,” Willow shrugged. “He came to us confused about a dream he had, but he wouldn’t really tell us much because Xander laughed at him after he told us about the first one.”


The girls turned accusing eyes towards him.


“What? It was ridiculous! Buffy would never let Spike bite her, right Buffy?”


Her eyes widened, and she asked with what sounded like trepidation, “That’s what he dreamt about?”


Misunderstanding her worry, Xander comforted, “Don’t worry, Buff. It’s not like he can actually hurt you.” After a thoughtful look, “Which is why I still think he might have been in on this whole wish thing. We could stake him just to be sure,” he joked.


“No staking,” Buffy said a little too harshly, coming out of her confused and jumbled thoughts for a moment.


Seeing their friend go back drift back into deep thoughts, forehead scrunched, they gave each other a look.


“You alright, Buffy?” Willow asked with concern.


‘Is it possible?’ she thought to herself, unsure. She looked up at the sound of her redheaded-friend’s voice. “Huh? Oh, yea, I’ll be fine. I have to go.”


“But Buffy, we have much to discuss and research about this whole ordeal,” Giles argued.


She waved it off without a second glance, “Later. I have to do something.” Before she stepped out of the door, she whipped around and gave Xander a look of warning, “Don’t go near Spike.”


With that, she stormed out with a bang of the door.


“Whoa, weird. What was that all about? Since when does she defend Spike?” Xander asked the others.


“Maybe since she found out that he’s been on his best behavior this summer,” Willow reminded him.


“I would defend him if he were that nice to me if I were in a coma,” Anya crossed her arms and looked at Xander, mirroring what reverse-world Anya had done when Buffy got stabbed.


“You’re not in a coma!” Xander defended.


As they bantered, Tara stayed quiet. Buffy’s reaction to Spike’s dream was just a little too suspicious…


~


She had looked all over – in his crypt, at Willie’s, at all the dark corners of Sunnydale, and she couldn’t find him. Not only did she need to question him about his dreams, but she was thoroughly pissed that he was nowhere to be seen. Just what the hell was going on with him? Behind the angry exterior, lay the hurt and confusion that she felt at his unwillingly-ness to see her now that she was finally back. And that’s how she ended up here, in the cemetery, two days later, beating every vampire to a pulp while cursing at Spike.


As she beat on another fledging, she heard a ruffling in the bushes, and stopped her actions. Tensing, she thought she sensed him. As Buffy turned to look, the fledging vampire had recovered and gotten up, and he was now charging towards her turned-back. She heard him a little too late, and turned back to defend herself, seeing that he was merely inches away from her already. Before the vamp could lunge for her neck, a stake shot through his heart from his back, and he burst into dust all around her.


Coughing from the dust all over her clothes, hair and face, she brushed herself off in disgust and squinted in the direction of the source of the flying stake.


“Distracted, luv?” came a voice from the darkness.


Feeling her heart skip a beat at finally hearing his voice again, she remembered that she was supposed to be pissed. So now he decides to make an appearance.


“You nearly got yourself killed by a fledging,” he both stated and accused, trying to keep the anger and concern out of his voice, and for the most part, succeeding.



His words didn’t even register with her as he stepped out of the shadows and into her line of vision. Here he was – Spike was in front of her, and it suddenly hit her that he knew nothing. To him, she was just the bitchy girl from the day she had ridiculed his feelings. An entire summer of events, and none of it was even real to him. How could she even begin to explain? She just couldn’t go back to hating him – it was too late now. She was in love with him, and he had no idea. If her experience wasn’t proof enough, standing here in front of him and wanting to do nothing but jump into his arms again, was.


“Where have you been?” she asked with a slightly hurt tone she couldn’t contain.


His expression wavered at her uncharacteristic tone, but he quickly reminded himself that this was Buffy, and there last encounter had not been the most pleasant. Instead, he put on his calm exterior, and sighed as he said, “Been around.” As much as he wanted to come off as if he hadn’t been on pins and needles the whole summer, he couldn’t help but add, “Something wrong?”


“Been around?” She gave him an incredulous look.


Sticking his hands in his duster pockets, he replied, “Yea, I’ve been busy these days.”


‘What? What could he possibly be busy doing? Oh, god, I hope it’s not Harmony.’


Frowning, she took a step back. This really wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to start off – she was getting the increasing feeling that she had made up some fairy tale idea where she could just run to him, and he would open his arms without question.


Resolve breaking as a concerned expression flashed across his face, he asked, “You alright?”


She looked up to him, her inner turmoil over what to say displayed clearly in her eyes. “Yea, fine,” she lied with a hurt look, “Coma-free now, thanks for asking.”


He raised a brow curiously. “Did you want me to?”


“No,” she lied again.


Spike squinted, trying to figure out just what she was getting at. Cautiously, he reminded, “Well, you don’t exactly want me anywhere near your house or your family anymore, remember? Your words, not mine.”

Her mind flickered back to their exchange back in his crypt, the day before her whole life was turned upside down, and she felt a pang of guilt when she remembered how much of a bitch she was. Buffy knew she should probably be making some sort of apology for…well…all general attitudes towards Spike period, but it was easier said than done. And… ‘wait a minute…he stayed away this whole time because I told him to not come near my house? Since when does he listen to me anyway?’


‘Yes, go with that, much easier than an apology.’ “Since when do you listen to me anyway? Out of all the times I yelled at you, you decided to listen to that?”


He tilted his head at her, searching her eyes with a curious gaze. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you actually wanted me around.”


“I-,” her mouth opened to speak, closed again, and opened again, not knowing what to say. She needed to tell him, to at least break this spell of pretend dislike, but the words just wouldn’t come out – not when it was this Spike – Spike who knew only bitchy-Buffy, and nothing else. But then she remembered one of the important reasons she needed to talk to him, besides the awkward mushy feelings she got whenever she thought about him, or the way he had kissed her, or the way their bodies had…


‘Ok, off topic. Focus!’ Chicken she was, she took the easy way out, again, and opted for questioning him about the dream. “I was looking for you,” she replied with surprising composure.


Stepping closer so that their faces were very close, he asked in that low tone of his, “Is that right?”


Feeling her heartbeat pick up and her breath hitch at his proximity, Buffy didn’t dare move even as he purposely taunted her with his nearing lips. She merely stared back into his eyes with obvious failing composure.


He pulled back before their lips met, his charade broken when he realized she wasn’t punching him in the nose, or throwing him across the cemetery and into a tombstone. Confused, he gazed at her with question in his eyes.


Buffy let out the breath she had been holding, both relieved and disappointed.


“Isn’t this the part where you punch me in the nose and call me a pig?”


She pressed her eyes together for a moment before replying, “No, I’m not here to…fight with you. I-,” letting out a sigh, “the gang told me that you were having dreams over the summer...about me.”


Spike suddenly looked embarrassed. Scratching the back of his head, he asked, “What of it?”


Raising her brow, “Were you going to tell me about that? Especially since it seems to be serious, with extreme headache-y episodes.” ‘Or the fact that you bit me,’ she wanted to say, feeling the urge to touch her neck, but suppressing it.


“It’s not a big deal,” he sighed, surprised and glad that she didn’t seem to be staking him for that, but rather…concerned? “Not like I’m not used to the ol’ migrane anyway.” He tapped the side of his head with his fingertips to make his point.


Buffy shook her head, “No, it IS a big deal. I think-, I think it has something to do with my… coma.” She realized something and frowned, “And why haven’t you asked about what happened?”


He realized she looked hurt by that. It gave him a fleeting moment of hope that there was something there. Afterall, she wanted him to be concerned. Giving her a soft expression that showed all his days of concern, he said, “I did.”


“What?” her brows furrowed in confusion.


“I went to your house,” he admitted, abandoning his “I’ve been busy” plan.


“What? When? No you didn’t.” Considering she had basically spent every cooped-up moment in that house wondering if Spike was going to show up, that was a little hard to believe.


“Well, alright, I tried to go,” he amended, “but your friends thought it best that I stay away for a while.”


“My friends thought it would be best if you stay away for a little while?” she gritted out in question.


“They’re just looking out for you, luv,” he reasoned, understanding her anger. She never was one for having her life dictated for her. Softer, he continued, “Besides, you need to rest. Don’t want to bother you.”


Her anger melted, a feeling of guilt suddenly taking over. That soft way he was looking at her, his concern shining through – was exactly what she wanted, right? But those words: Don’t want to bother you served as a soft but direct stab at exactly what she had done wrong, how she had treated him. Sure, he had his faults – chaining a girl to a wall is not exactly the best way to renounce your evilness, but he had already seen in her what she was underneath the bitchy exterior that she displayed, while Buffy had completely cast away the idea that Spike even had feelings, or was capable of anything remotely real to a human. And it took a spell to get her to see it, where as he, un-dead demon that he is, saw it even when fate pitted them as natural enemies.


“You’re not bothering me, Spike,” she said softly, tone voicing her regret.


Confused yet again, he put the back of his hand up to her forehead. “You feelin’ alright, pet?”


She closed her eyes, a jolt shooting through her at the feel of his skin. It was harmless contact, but she had been wanting to touch him from the moment she had woken up in the hospital. She sighed, as his hand moved away from her forehead, his fingers lightly grazing her cheek, almost cupping it but afraid to. Leaning into his hand, she moved forward slightly, afraid he would pull away.


Concluding this must be the result of her coma, he asked, “What happened that night?”


“I don’t know,” she whispered with her eyes closed, only concentrating at the feel of his hand pushing her hair back over her shoulder to cup the side of her face.


Staring at her with adoration in his eyes, he didn’t realize how out of the ordinary this moment was for them, only thinking about how his endless days of misery were over, and she was finally awake, standing here before him.


Something was off - Spike realized when her closed eyes seemed to express that she was enjoying his touch. Drawing his hand back as if scalded, he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, looking her up and down to see as if she might not be real.


Feeling him pull away, she opened her eyes and saw his narrowed eyes, “What’s wrong?” With a confused expression, she stepped forward, only to halt at his next words.


“What the hell is that on your neck?” With disbelief in his eyes, he waited for her to answer.


Her eyes widening, she stepped back as her hand shot up to her neck, pulling her hair back to cover it. “N-Nothing.”


With a look of determination, he stalked towards her as she continued retreating, until her back hit a large tombstone. Trapping her, he grabbed her wrists and held them from stopping him. With one hand, he brushed her hair aside once again, not knowing if his mind was playing tricks on him.


Her breathing coming in shorter breaths from what he was about to see, Buffy tried not to look at him.


“Bloody hell,” he said in disbelief as he saw two tiny holes that were already fading – fading faster than any usual bites. With slightly shaky fingers, he reached out to touch the faded marks, causing Buffy to whimper involuntarily. The claim felt non-existent, but at his cool touch, it all came flooding back to her – and to him. Eyes shutting automatically, his mind was flooded with images from his dreams – them together, kissing, smiling, laughing, fighting,…Buffy dying.


As he retracted his hand like he was scalded, they both opened their eyes, panting. He stepped back, away from her with confused eyes. “That’s mine,” he stated and questioned. Words jumbled through his mind – there was so much he wanted to say and ask…and yell. How could she not tell him? It didn’t even make any sense. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”


“Why didn’t you tell me?” Buffy asked accusingly. “I asked you just now about the dreams, and you said it wasn’t important.” She tried to control her emotions – she felt dizzy with surrealism. ‘How?’


“That’s because I thought it was just me!” he exasperated. “I don’t bloody get it!” He started pacing in front of her, mind trying to grasp it all. That meant it was all true, the good AND the bad. So many fragmented images in his dreams – it was hard to make sense of them all.


She wanted something to fill the silence, and to get him to stop pacing. “Spike?”


Halting in his steps, he looked up at her with confused eyes, making him look vulnerable and…tortured.


Frowning with a look of anguish, she knew she had caused him so much pain, in more than one way. “I’m sorry.”


“For what?” he asked, surprised at her words.


“For everything.” Stepping forward towards him, she looked up into his eyes, she continued, “For being a bitch. For not believing you. For everything.” Doing something she had been waiting to do, she reached up and pressed her lips to his softly, ignoring his surprise. Slowly beginning to caress his lips with hers, her hand came to his cheek, trying to show him how she felt, since words weren’t working in her favor.


Caught off guard, he only hesitated a few moments before his lips began to respond.


Something between them ignited as both began pouring their emotions into a simple kiss, and everything else seemed to fall away. It became clear – the dreams, the coma, their feelings. The blank spaces in between Spike’s dreams were filled, and it was a revelation. All those tiny moments they had, the brief understandings, the talks, the jealousy, the affection, the pain, puzzled together until it was clear as day. The dreams were no longer dreams – they were now vivid memories. And with Buffy in his arms, all other explanations and questions didn’t matter.


Looping her arms around the back of his neck, she deepened the kiss, delving her tongue into his mouth.


Groaning, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her even closer against him, responding to her by slipping his tongue into her mouth against hers.


It became needy, and they were unaware of their hands groping at each other, wanting more.


She let out a breathy moan of satisfaction, missing the way they felt together.


His hand came up to caress her face, her neck, needing to touch her to prove to himself that this was real. As his hand traveled to his marks, he rubbed them, causing her to arch into his body, her heat searing him even through all their clothes.


Slipping her hand under his duster and under his shirt, she touched the muscles of his stomach. At the feel of her hands on his bare skin, he latched onto her neck with his blunt teeth and held her tightly to him. Tasting her skin, he briefly wondered how he had gotten so lucky, how Buffy was suddenly here, in his arms. “God, I love you. I missed you so much,” he rasped into her neck.


She threw her head back, eyes closed, concentrating on the feel of his tongue against her skin. At his proclamation, she automatically responded in truth with a breathy voice, “I love you, too.”


Before she could understand what was going on, there was no longer a Spike attached to her neck. Looking up with hazy and confused eyes, chest heaving, she asked, “What’s wrong?”


Her declaration sounded so strange, like they couldn’t be true, but as the images of his memories ran through his mind, his expression turned into one of acceptance. He gave her a genuine smile, love shining through his eyes as he pulled her to him again, and leaned down to capture her lips. “Nothing,” he whispered against her lips. Nothing at all.


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