[A/N: This was only supposed to be two chapters, one from each of their points of view, and somehow it morphed into this four chapter epic. Okay, so it’s not an epic by my standards, but it wasn’t supposed to be this long at all. *sighs* I hope you are all enjoying this anyway. Quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect.]

4. Theirs – part ii

When the dark wood fell before me
And all the paths were overgrown
When the priests of pride say there is no other way
I tilled the sorrows of stone

I did not believe because I could not see
Though you came to me in the night
When the dawn seemed forever lost
You showed me your love in the light of the stars

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me

Then the mountain rose before me
By the deep well of desire
From the fountain of forgiveness
Beyond the ice and fire

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me

Though we share this humble path, alone
How fragile is the heart
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars

Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me
Please remember me
Loreena McKennitt, Dante’s Prayer, The Book of Secrets



They both fell asleep again, despite having slept most of the day. This time, though, they were sprawled out over the bed, Spike’s head pillowed between her breasts. Curled around each other, both rested better than they had in months, drawing comfort from their proximity. His hands tightened around her convulsively as he dreamed, one of her hands smoothing down his back or through his hair every time his agitation increased.

There were moments, when Buffy swam toward wakefulness, confused and feeling bound to the bed, only to have reality wash over her. Everything about the room was familiar, his presence the only addition.

He’s back. . . . Home. . . .

It was those thoughts, more than any holdover grogginess that kept her sane, kept her aware and tethered to the moment. And kept her body locked with his, willingly trapped beneath his mostly still form. This was all new territory for her, holding him close, staying still with him . . . Not fighting to free herself from his embrace. And yet it wasn’t. This was. . . . What she’d wanted all those nights, when she was too damaged and afraid to ask for him to just hold her, when she had first been thrust back among the living.

Glancing at the small alarm clock on the night table, she realized they’d slept – almost eighteen hours – and it was now closing on ten o’clock. A low groan of pain vibrated into her skin and Buffy knew the rest and what little blood he’d taken hadn’t helped enough. Spike needed more of both, but he wasn’t going to get one without her moving. Besides, she wanted to take a quick shower, wash some of the sleep gunk from her body.

Yet she didn’t move, stayed exactly where she was, her arms slung around his shoulders, one hand buried in his blond curls, the other resting in the middle of his back. Staring up at the ceiling, Buffy suddenly found herself crying, which she hadn’t realized until her eyes blurred. Spike’s back. . . . Her arms tightened, almost clutching him to her. His ear was settled over her heart and she knew he could hear it, because as it accelerated, he reacted, rolling over to wrap her in his arms, almost switching their positions.

His hand came up to cup her cheek and somehow the combination of her tears and thumping heart woke him up, because his voice rumbled between them. “Why the tears?”

Instead of words, a gulped hiccup emerged from her and Buffy snuggled into his arms, trying to avoid having to answer. “Kitten, what’s wrong?”

She spoke into his chest, afraid to look into his eyes. “I was . . . almost thought I was dreaming, I guess. Been wanting, well, really, wishing for this for so long, I just . . . “

“Just?” Still more asleep than awake, Spike was coherent enough to understand she needed some form of reassurance from him that it was real. . . . And he needed the same from her.

“Don’t leave me. . . . I couldn’t deal if this is just a dream.”

Spike loosened his hold on her waist, practically pulling her head up to meet his barely opened eyes. “Don’t think we’re sharing dreams, sweets, much as I’d like to think we deserve it. . . . “ He paused, looking at the tears pooled in her hazel eyes. “I’m here. Finally. Not going anywhere, not for a while.”

Her lips quivered and he could see the tears rebuilding, so he did the only thing he could think of to calm her. Impulsively his lips found hers and when she didn’t stiffen or pull away, he curled one hand beneath her head, the other he slid back down to her waist. Buffy slumped into him and an insane thought entered her head and she very distinctly remembered the first time they’d ever kissed. The bubble of laughter formed in her chest and she couldn’t hold it back.

She broke from him, and he half expected her to look repulsed or indignant or any one of a hundred other negative things, so it took him a moment to realize she wasn’t going to hit him or flounce away in a huff. Instead, she giggled hysterically, wrapped her arms around him, then tried vainly to say something.

“Buffy?”

More giggles escaped from her and she had to gasp, trying to get air past her lips. “Oh god . . . “ More giggles and Spike pulled away slightly to see her staring into his eyes, a wide smile across her features. “You remember . . . Willow’s . . . Spell?” When he nodded, all she said next was, “Want a taste of Slayer on your lips?”

It took him more than a minute to figure out what she was saying, and when he finally did, Spike looked at her like she was insane, then deadpanned, “You’ve got lips of Spike all over yours, kitten.”

Almost as if she’d been waiting for that, Buffy attacked him, laying kisses all over his face, giggling the whole time. Determined not to be outdone, Spike curled his fingers around her waist and tickled her, his own chuckles soon joining hers.

Buffy was gasping for air, lights dancing behind her closed eyes and despite her breathless state she kept trying to talk. Finally though, the hilarity wound down, although little hiccupy-giggles leaked out of her. “My sides hurt.”

“Haven’t laughed like that for ages.” He paused, growing serious. “Don’t think ‘ve ever seen you like this.”

Though he hadn’t meant them to, his words stung just a little and Buffy stiffened. Before she could say anything, Spike picked up on her discomfort and hastily snapped out a defensive apology. He was flinging back the blankets, preparing to strategically retreat, when Buffy’s hand tugged him back onto the bed. Whether by accident or her design, he landed flat on his back, Buffy hanging on like a limpet.

“Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for. That was all me, Miss Miserable Sunnydale 2001, and unanimously reelected the following year. You tried so hard to make me feel better and I was all get in the way girl.” She was up on one elbow, the other hand laying across his bare chest, fingers toying with the sheet covering his skin.

“Buffy, you were going through quite a bit back then.” A twisted smile bloomed on her face and her fingers walked up to brush over his lips.

“I love you for it, but stop making excuses for me. I didn’t want to be anything other than miserable back then. At least you saw it and tried to help. Everyone else just ostriched it.”

“Whated it?” He wasn’t going to address her other little admission, leaving that for when he had more energy to pursue her slip of the tongue.

“Ostriched. You know, stuck their heads in the mud and pretended it wasn’t happening.”

His mouth quirked and he was trying so hard not to laugh at the way she deliberately downplayed her intelligence. “In the sand, luv, ostriches stick their heads in sand, not mud.”

She waved off his clarification with an airy hand. “Still, the scoobies had their heads in mud, or really, something way denser than sand.” Buffy shook her head, letting her hair fall all around them. “C’mon, Xander never once thought I might be with you when I was invisible? What was with that? How lame is it to believe you might be doing naked pushups in bed when invisible Buffy is on the loose?”

His hand reached up to push back her hair, and his thumb brushed across her cheek. Dark blue eyes focused on the golden strands, while she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Before he could say anything to defend everyone else’s actions that miserable year, words started tumbling out of her mouth. “Look at what happened, not just between us, but for everyone that time. Everything just fell apart. Not one of us was in a good place, the badness was just oozing all around us. The only time I felt safe was with you, and yeah, I know I was just using you for a while. I’m sorry for that, sorry about a lot of things but we can’t go back and do it all over, so we have to move forward.”

Buffy knew she was babbling, knew words were just spewing out of her mouth, yet she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t know how to stop, until Spike lifted his eyes to hers and she saw the twinkle. A huff left her and she hung her head, hiding from his suddenly intense gaze. “There I go, all babble-girl again. Can’t you get me to shush?”

“Nah. It’s adorable. Haven’t heard it in so long, I’d almost forgotten. . . . How you do that when you’re nervous.”

“Hah! I bet you haven’t forgotten any thing about me at all.”

The soft circles his thumb had been rubbing on the side of her neck stopped for a fraction of a moment, then started again. His voice dropped, becoming husky with need, “Haven’t forgotten. Remember every bloody thing. Din’ wan’ to forget.”

Goosebumps rose on her skin and Buffy realized suddenly, where they were, and how little they were both wearing. And it didn’t matter, didn’t make any difference at all, except cause her heartbeat to quicken. She knew, too, the instant he picked up on it, because his jaw tensed and his nostrils flared in response to her body’s reaction.

“I missed you pet, so bloody much.” He looked away, knowing their separation had been mostly his fault; the result of his disbelief for her last words in Sunnydale and his own insecurities – and too, Angel’s insidious belief that she was better off without him. Something he never failed to repeat whenever the mood struck him.

As if she understood every single thought in his head at that moment, Buffy responded. “Hey, it so wasn’t your fault. If I hadn’t spent so much time giving mixed signals, we would have avoided a whole lot of mistakes. I just didn’t . . . trust a lot of what I was feeling. And just so we’re clear, I missed you too.” A lone crystal tear dropped down onto his chest, and Spike shifted a bit so he could watch his skin absorb the evidence of her sorrow. “I didn’t forget either. I couldn’t, even when I told myself I shouldn’t remember.”

Her fingertip rubbed against the tiny spot, then her head drifted down, soft lips covering the area. Both of his hands cupped her head, his fingers tangling in the length of her hair. “Kitten?”

The almost growled endearment went right through her, igniting nerve endings and Buffy opened her eyes to find his gazing at her intently. “I remember, Spike. . . . Oh god, do I remember.”

For only the second time in nearly two years, their lips met and for both of them, it was a jolt. He groaned, curling his hands around her, holding her in an inescapable grip, while she gasped, sliding a leg over his hips, her thigh bumping against his erection. Spike’s hand closed around her thigh, holding her tight against him. Buffy’s muscles clenched, holding him still within the cradle of her thighs.

“I missed you so much Spike.”

Resting her forehead against his lips, Buffy sighed, trying not to shudder and hold back her tears.

“Missed you too, baby . . . every bloody minute.”

Their words were bare whispers, hardly more than soft sounds. Fresh tears leaked from Buffy’s eyes, this time mixed with his.

“This is real, kitten.” He said it as much to convince himself also, not just her.

“I know. . . . I think I finally get that.” She wriggled against him, undulating her hips, teasing him with her warmth.

“Buffy. . . . “ He groaned into her mouth, unable to hide the wince when Buffy accidently brushed against his broken ribs.

She pulled back, her eyes sweeping over his torso. “It looks better.”

Buffy leaned down, brushing kisses over the dark bruising. Her fingers ghosted over his flesh, trailing tendrils of warmth over his cool body. Spike’s hips shifted, loosening the sheet, writhing under her touch.

“Kitten. . . . “

Up on her knees, Buffy leaned over him, one hand on either side of his chest. His hands reached up to cup her face and she nuzzled into his touch. “Buffy.”

His voice was low, hoarse with need and slightly tinged with pain.

“Shhhhh. Lemme take care of you, okay?”

She was gone before he could blink. Spike dropped his head back onto the pillow, his eyes closed and a grimace of pain on his features. Bloody bint. . . . How the hell is leavin’ me. . . . Gets me goin’ an’ then runs off. . . . . Again.

The aroma of warm blood hit his nose seconds before her scent did. Spike opened his eyes to see Buffy perched on the edge of the bed, a soft smile playing about her lips, eyes twinkling and hands cupped around a steaming mug. “Drink up.”

“What’s this?”

“Drink up fang face. You need to get better.”

Spike gingerly slid up to the headboard, taking the mug from her hand. “Why is that?”

The small smile bloomed into a wide grin. “So I can show you how happy I am that you’re back.”

A smirk crossed his features and he growled low in his chest. “In that case, kitten, line ‘em up.”

She blushed beautifully under his close attention, then tried to divert it. “I’ve got another mug heating up, do you want a third?”

He stared at her for long minutes, sipping the heady liquid. “Is it all yours?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Kitten. . . . You aren’t food. Have you got anything else?” A frosty, hurt look entered her eyes and she looked away but Spike had seen it. “Sweetheart. . . . I . . . This is more than you should be doing for me.”

“What? No. . . . . No. I. . . . . this was . . . I needed to do this, just like the lantern, it was my hope, the only hope I had. No one else, except Illyria was even willing to believe me. I needed something, in case you needed healing when you came back. . . . “ Heaving sobs broke through her words and Spike stared at her, his brain unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Spike . . . Please just . . . take it. It’s all yours.”

“Buffy . . . “ He tried speaking, but her emotions were swirling around both of them, engulfing them in their depths.

“Please, Spike. I understand if you don’t trust me enough to start over, but I have to do this for you. Please let me do this.”

He shook his head, trying to clear his own thoughts. Buffy saw it, and mistaking it as his rejection, she sobbed quietly, saying in a very small voice, “When you. . . . I’ll pack up my stuff and go. Giles and . . . and Dawn want me to go to England and so I’ll be out of your hair by the morning.”

She was standing in the doorway, her small shoulders squared against the perceived hurt and rejection. Not so furtively brushing away her tears, Buffy didn’t hear him moving behind her, didn’t sense anything until she felt his arms circle around her.

“If you walk out that door kitten, it’ll be with me right on your heels. I let you go once, trying to do the right thing, ‘m not doin’ it again. If that makes me a selfish bastard, ‘en so be it.”

His arms pulled her closer, hands snaking under the soft cotton of her pajamas. Clamping one hand around a breast, sliding the other down to cup her sex, Spike growled into her ear. “Told you, ‘m a bad, rude man an’ more than a bit possessive. . . . I’m no martyr like Peaches.”

Buffy sagged against him at the first touch of his skin on hers, her body reacting to his nearness.

“Do you love me?”

Her head fell forward in a soft nod and the word “yes” was choked out of her.

“Say it.” His low growl sent shivers shooting up her spine. “Say it.”

“I love you Spike.”

His mouth closed on her neck, in a blunt bite and Buffy gasped out the words again. “I love you. . . . Please believe me. . . . I love you.”

“Tha’s all I need then.”

His fingers curled into her pussy, squeezing her clit before delving into her warmth. Using his free hand, Spike pushed her pajama shorts down her legs, almost lifting her clear of the pooled material once it was at her feet. Skimming his cool hand over her hip, he softly growled a litany of words into her ear. Buffy shivered, dropping her head back to rest on his shoulder. Almost of their own volition, one hand reached up, threading into his hair, the other reaching around to hold onto his hip.

Spike’s cock was nestled between them, twitching against her ass. “So warm an’ wet, kitten. . . . Is this just for me?”

“Yes. . . . “ For the first time, Buffy was willing – needing – to be as vocal as he usually was. “Oh god, Spike, don’t tease me.”

“Mmmmmm . . . Open up for me, little girl.”

Her legs shifted, her tiny feet resting on the outside of his, hips angled forward, giving him better access to her core. He bit down on her shoulder and Buffy’s entire body spasmed, a rush of new liquid covering his fingers. “Baby likes that, does she?”

His low chuckle curled through her, uncoiling the knots in her belly. “Only when you do it, Spike. . . . Only you.”

Her hand swept over his lean hip, as she rocked back into his erection. “Wanna see you. . . . Please?”

“What is it you wanna see pet?” Soft kisses trailed over her neck, cool and wet, leaving wildfires in their wake.

“You . . . Us . . . Wanna. . . . Oh Spike. I need to . . . “ Two fingers plunged into her depths, his thumb pressing on her clit.

He stepped back, sliding his fingers out of her, trailing them wetly over her hip. A shiver stole through her at the loss of his touch and Buffy snuck a look over her shoulder. And gaped.

“Come look then, sweets.”

Proudly naked in front of her, Spike flung his arms wide at his words. His erection jutted out, hard and heavy, almost pulsing with her borrowed blood. Only his side was marred with bruises, all the other wounds faded away with the infusion of Slayer blood.

Buffy’s eyes rested on his cock, then glanced up at his face. There was such longing and fierce need swirling in the ocean blue eyes, she nearly buckled under the enormity of it.

Wordlessly she stepped closer, her fingers tugging at the small buttons of her top. Before she’d taken two steps, she was as naked as he, her hands reaching for his.

“Love you, Spike. . . . I really do.”

Buffy stepped closer, trapping his erection between them, letting it rest against her belly. Gently she wrapped her arms around his torso, brushing tiny kisses over his pectorals. “I missed you. . . . So much. I had to come back here. . . . For . . . I was so worried.”

Her words, so long sought, were balm to his tattered soul. A low groan passed through his lips and his arms dropped, cradling her to him. “Dreamed ‘bout you, whenever I could sleep. Was worried I wouldn’t make it back. . . . “

His voice trailed off, and he buried his face in her hair, hiding his tears.

“Spike?”

Buffy pulled back, ducking down to slip under his bowed head. What she saw in his eyes both warmed and frightened her. “I’m here . . . All of me. Spike, hold me please.”

He swept her into a deep, drugging kiss, stumbling backward onto the bed. Buffy rolled, ending up beneath him, his face cupped in her hands. His erection thumped against her clit and she writhed in response. Buffy tilted her pelvis, planting her feet flat on the mattress, her eyes never leaving his. “Now Spike. . . . “

“Are you sure?”

“More sure than my own name.”

Together their hands guided him inside her and she hummed in appreciation, feeling the slow glide of his cock through her tight vaginal walls.

“Oh god . . . I missed. . . . “ Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. “Welcome home Spike.”

He stared down at her, every muscle frozen in place, his mind overloaded, his senses drugged. “Buffy?”

Tears pooled in his eyes and Spike shifted, wanting to hide them from her. This moment was achingly bittersweet for him – everything he’d wanted – and he was afraid to believe it. Except. . . . His body remembered the feel of her – her pussy tight and clenching him tighter than a fist, the smell of her – vanilla and power, lavender and tears. His body knew. . . . And his heart had no choice but to follow.

“Missed you. . . . Love you so much Buffy.”

Words spilled from him, nonsensically profound, love laced with need, pouring forth in a torrent, gaining speed even as his thrusts within her body slowed, lengthening, savoring each languid, liquid slide inside her.

“God, woman. . . . “

It was his own damned miracle. . . . Being here, back – home – with Buffy. Her words, for once, not his. Their lips met, the kiss sweetly innocent while their bodies undulated slowly.

“Spike . . . I love you.”

Big luminous hazel green eyes stared up at him, her words ringing in his ears and Spike knew he was lost again. Gone, drowning under her spell, never to surface again.

“Love you too . . . “

Their orgasms built slowly, fractionally by hitched breath and mingled kisses, fraught with tenderness. Something so totally new for them and yet it was no less explosive than one of their wilder couplings.

Buffy’s walls closed around him, rippling and clenching around his cock, milking him steadily. Her body convulsed, the wave cresting from her to him, her eyes never leaving his.

This was so new . . . tenderness. Love . . . sharing. All new.

Buffy held his gaze, through the haze of tears, both his and hers, a hushed litany reaching his ears. “Always, love you . . . Spike, love you . . . Love you . . . Spike . . . Buffy loves you . . . “

Resting tiredly on his elbows, Spike brushed damp tendrils of blond hair from her face.

His eyes swam with tears and his jaw clenched as he tried gaining control of the ragged edges of his emotions. Buffy curled her arms around his torso, holding him close, unwilling to let him go. Dropping light kisses over her flushed face, he slid to his side, exhaustion and his injuries catching up with him. Buffy tucked herself against him, a slow giggle erupting from her when his hand clamped itself around her ass.

They drifted into sleep once more, surrounded by each other.


@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@


Spike woke before she did, the pounding thump of someone banging on the apartment door loud enough to disturb his rest. He groaned, stretching his sore aching muscles, in an effort to trounce whoever was banging away at the door. Unwrapping his arms from around Buffy disturbed her and she came to, the sound of his grumbling complaints low in her ears.

Sleepily she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s at the door, pet.”

Buffy rolled over, pushing him back down. “Stay there, I’ll get it.”

Suiting action to words, Buffy got to her feet, reaching for one of his tee shirts and a pair of sleep pants. He watched her, his eyes half closed, his mind blank of all coherent thought. “Come back to bed, sweets, whoever it is can go bugger off.”

The pounding restarted, louder, this time accompanied by the simultaneous ring of the phone. Buffy rolled her eyes, then headed for the doorway. “I’m coming, I’m coming. A little patience at this hour wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

Angel’s voice reached through the doorway, calling her name as he kept up the pounding. “Buffy! Buffy are you in there? C’mon Buffy, answer the door, the phone. . . . Something.”

Flinging the door open, Buffy stood facing the agitated vampire, arms crossed over her chest and obvious displeasure on her features. “You do realize it’s the middle of the night.”

“Are you okay?” He leaned against the barrier, his eyes scanning her from top to bottom.

Eyebrow raised in disbelief, she sniped out, “Standing here in one piece.” Shaking her head at his dense expression, she asked, “You’re here waking me up in the middle of the night asking me if I’m okay?”

“Well, yeah. Illyria said she . . . . Took care of you and I got worried when you didn’t answer your cell phone. No one’s heard from you since last night and I got concerned.” He paused, peering at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine and dandy, and all in one piece, as you can see.” Buffy shook her head again. “Next time just call.”

“I worry about you Buffy. What if something happened and you got hurt or Illyria had done something to you?”

“Angel, did you not get the memo? In case you forgot, I’m still the Slayer and I can take care of myself. I really don’t need a babysitter, so just go back and do whatever you were doing.”

Angel stared at her, a strange look on his face and he started to speak, when Buffy partially closed the door in his face, turning away from him.

“Buffy, you have to stop this crazy behavior. You have responsibilities, to the other Slayers and the Council.” He paused, realizing he was getting nowhere, then said, “What about Dawn? How can you just leave your sister halfway across the world?”

She turned back to face him, irritation written all over her face. “You don’t get to play that card, Angel. Not now, after everything that’s happened. Don’t act like you care about Dawn or the other Slayers.”

“Buffy, you have to give up this foolish idea of yours that Spike is miraculously going to reappear.” He tried pushing the door opened, coming up hard against the barrier. She wasn’t paying attention to him at all, her whole body turned away from the door. “Are you even listening to me?”

She ignored him and Angel’s frustration grew. “He’s not coming back. It’s time to wake up and realize that. Spike is gone.”

The door flung open and Angel gaped, his mouth dropping open wide. Spike was standing in the middle of his living room, bare-chested with barely fastened black jeans hanging low on his narrow hips. Bruises stood out starkly against his white skin and Angel could see the fatigue on his face.

“What the hell?!” Angel stared at them, watching how Buffy turned her back on him completely. She was at Spike’s side in seconds, her arm wrapped around his waist.

“You should have stayed in bed.”

“Heard who was out here an’ figured he wouldn’t leave until you made him. Thought I’d get somethin’ to drink an’ watch the show.”

“Stay here. I’ll get it.” Buffy helped Spike onto the couch, both of them pointedly ignoring Angel’s looming presence in the hallway.

“How did. . . . What’s going on?” He pressed up close against the barrier locking him out, concern and disbelief clear on his features. “You can’t. . . . Buffy this might not be Spike. He could be dangerous.”

She stopped short, on her way into the kitchen, whirling around to face the door. “Are you insane? I’d know whether or not this is Spike. Trust me Angel, I’d know.”

Spike just stared at Angel, an indecipherable look on his face. He said nothing though, sensing for the moment, at least, this was between the two of them.

“How can you be sure it’s him? He could be a doppelganger or some demon wearing Spike’s body.”

Buffy blew out an exasperated breath. “I’d know if it wasn’t really him.” She shook her head, turning to walk back into the kitchen. “Go home Angel.”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but whatever it is, isn’t going to work.” Angel directed his comments to the other vampire. “You can’t hide in here forever and whatever you’re doing to convince Buffy that you are really Spike will be over.”

“Piss off,” Spike said without any heat. “‘m not playing a game, you git. It’s me, not something else. An’ I wouldn’t hurt Buffy.”

“You can’t be trusted. She doesn’t need you. She deserves something better than you.”

Neither one of them heard the soft footsteps of the Slayer re-entering the room, so both were unprepared for her fury.

“Since when do you get to decide who and what I need or deserve? Last time I checked it was my decision, since, hey, it’s my life and all.” Buffy handed a fresh mug of blood to Spike, then strode for the door. “Angel, this is so not your call. I finally got what I’ve been hoping for since you screwed up with the Black Thorn and Spike disappeared. Were you not paying attention?”

“I was paying attention. I just don’t understand why you care about him.” His words contained so much contempt and dismissal, that she flinched.

“See, that’s just it, I more than care about him. I love him, Angel.”

“What?!” Angel pushed against the barrier, hands fisted at shoulder height. “You . . . . Can’t. What about us?”

“There is no us, hasn’t really been an us in more than six years. I was just a little too stubborn to let it go, but I finally did. Now, you need to do the same thing.” Buffy started to close the door.

“Wait . . . . Buffy, you’re making a huge mistake. Spike’s no good, he’ll just go back to Drusilla or turn on you some other way. He’s using you, Buffy.”

Spike appeared behind her, looking Angel square in the eyes. “Not gonna ever happen, not even after Buffy’s gone. I don’t play games, Angel, that’s your gig. ‘M not you, Peaches.”

Buffy leaned back, reaching for Spike with her free hand. Their fingers meshed and she tugged him forward, until their bodies were flush, his chest against her back. Angel’s expression turned to pure disgust and he growled, his eyes flashing gold.

“I see you didn’t waste any time in getting into Buffy’s bed.”

Her smirk rivaled one of Spike’s, though the blond vampire couldn’t see it, he could gauge her expression by the anger blooming on Angel’s face. “Actually, I got into his bed.”

“What!!!” The dark-haired vampire’s roar of disapproval echoed in the small hallway and Buffy blithely kept on speaking in spite of it.

“His apartment, his bed. I kinda just crawled in with him.” She peeked over her shoulder and caught the slight grin gracing Spike’s features. “Go away Angel, we’ll come see you in a couple of days.”

Without any further words or waiting for Angel to vent more of his fury on them verbally, Buffy slammed the door shut in his face.

The pounding immediately started up again, but Buffy had turned in Spike’s arms, wide hazel green eyes staring up into his, and she whispered. “You are a good man, Spike, and I do love you.”

His growl was low and possessive, causing shivers to crest over her skin. “Come back to bed now, kitten.”

Ignoring the noises from the hallway, the two headed back to bed.

It took him close to an hour to get the idea neither Buffy nor Spike was going to come to the door again, and finally, Angel got the hint and left Spike’s building.


@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@


Fourteen hours later, sometime around mid-morning, Spike woke to find himself alone in the bed. He could hear the shower running, and he realized, once she emerged, the time for discussing the future was at hand. Don’t really wanna do this, but . . . We, no I need to know what’s going on here. And I should tell her. . . . Where I was.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that Spike didn’t hear the water shut off, nor hear her slip into the bedroom. While he was drifting in and out of his thoughts, Buffy curled up next to him, another one of his tee-shirts covering her. “Penny for those deep thoughts.”

“If they’re so deep, maybe I should be gettin’ more than a penny.” He rolled up onto his side, looking down at her. “Smell good, princess. . . . “

“It’s the shower gel, vanilla and jasmine.” She slung her arm over his waist, so they were face to face. “You look so serious. What’s wrong?”

“Just been thinkin’ is all.”

When he lapsed into silence, seemingly mesmerized by the feel of her skin under his fingers, Buffy nudged him gently, prompting him to share his thoughts. “Spike?”

“What do. . . . Wanna know what’s ahead for us. Is there an us? What are we, Buffy?” He wouldn’t look at her, averting his eyes from her intense gaze.

“I guess, um, well, I kinda thought, we could sort of you know, just do whatever we want to. I’m not tied down to the hellmouth anymore, and while I liked Rome, it just wasn’t the same without someone I really want to share it with.” She moved back just a bit, trying to catch his eyes. “What is it you want to do?”

He did look at her then, his eyes searching hers for hints of doubt or insincerity. “Are you saying. . . . What are you saying?”

“Spike. I told you when you first got back that all I wanted was to be with you. Doesn’t matter where we go, or what we do. We could go anywhere now, because the only reason I’m here in LA is because this was the last place you were.” It was her turn to be the shy one, afraid of finding something different in his eyes. “That’s if you wanna start over . . . I guess there’s an us.”

“Is that what you want?” He couldn’t help the words from blurting from his mouth and Spike finally dared to look at her.

Buffy stared down at the comforter, picking at the threads. “I do.”

Nothing but silence greeted her whispered words and it was long moments before Spike broke it. “Are you sure about this?”

“Very.”

“Look pet, there’s. . . . I want to tell you what happened. You know what went on with the Black Thorn, yeah?” At her nod, he kept talking, trying to get it all out. “Already made up m’ mind to come see you if I made it through. Wanted to . . . Needed to get it all out in the open. Well, Blue an’ I were fighting hard, while Peaches was off tryin’ to protect Charlie an’ fight a dragon.”

At her snicker of laughter, Spike smiled, but then quickly sobered. “Charlie wasn’t . . . . Knew he wasn’t gonna make it. I got hit by some baddie an’ I still don’t know what it was, then suddenly ‘m someplace other than that alley.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts. “At first, it was just as bad, constant darkness, lots of demons an’ . . . It was just more fighting. I didn’t leave from that spot I got dumped in, just found myself some shelter on the rare times there was sunshine. Ran across an occasional human, had no choice but to drink.” Tensing in a preemptive motion, Spike almost flinched when Buffy just hugged him tighter.

“Didn’t kill anyone, didn’t have to. The other demons always got them, no matter what I did to protect ‘em. Had one bloke with me for a while, nearly two years, I think.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in, and Buffy drew back to look into his eyes. “Oh my god. How long was it for you?”

“Near as I can tell ‘bout fifty years.” His hand brushed over her face and both of them had tears in their eyes. “Thought I. . . . Thought I was only gonna make it back in time to say goodbye to you.”

She couldn’t speak for the tears clogging her throat. Instead of trying, Buffy just snuggled closer, her face plastered against his chest, arms tight around him. It took him a while to compose himself and Spike fought his own tears. “Nearly didn’t believe it when Blue punched a hole through an’ found me. Thought I was dreamin’ when we came back . . . Never expected to find you waiting for me. Figured you’d be married, settled somewhere.”

“Blue surprised me, fixing my clothes, replacing the duster. Could’ve sworn Percy took away all her powers.”

“Maybe when the building got destroyed, her power got restored?” Buffy mumbled against his chest.

“Who destroyed the building?”

“Ah, well . . . That would have been me, with some help from the other Slayers.”

His chuckle took her by surprise, though his next words made her blush. “Got some penchant for destruction there, kitten.”

“Haha, real funny Spike.”

They lapsed into silence then, both digesting his story.


@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@


On the third day of their reunion, Buffy told him about Giles’ plan to get her out of Los Angeles for Thanksgiving and they finally ventured out to find Illyria.

The demon god was in the Hyperion, pondering the pattern of floor tiles in the lobby, when they arrived at dusk. Spike approached her, while Buffy checked the main floor to make sure Angel wasn’t around.

“Blue?” Illyria’s head swivelled to where Spike stood, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Wanted to thank you for finding me and bringing me back.”

“Gratitude is befitting you. It pained me to see your mate lost in grief.” His head snapped up to look at Illyria, an assessing look on his face.

“We’re not mated.”

Illyria waved away his denial. “I have seen it so.” She cocked her head to the side, watching Buffy walk toward them. “It is inevitable, no matter what dimension or incarnation you take. The depths of your emotions will not be denied.”

The two blonds shared a look, but neither remarked on Illyria’s comments.

“Thank you Illyria.” Buffy’s soft voice caught the she-king’s attention.

“I require your assistance.”

“Anything. What do you need?”

“This world disgusts me. I will not abide this place any longer. The time will come when my kind will rule this dimension and all will be as it once was.” Another look passed between the two, though Illyria ignored them. “Long after you are gone, your spirits moved onto another dimension, demons will again hold sway over lesser life forms. I wish to wait until that time. You will give me your assistance.”

Spike stared at her for long minutes, gauging her sincerity. “You want to go back to the Deeper Well?”

“It is necessary.”

“Wesley said the only way it could be done was if everyone you came in contact with was sacrificed.”

Illyria stared at him fixedly. “Those requirements are only necessary if I do not wish to retire to stasis. It is my desire, my will. Only the blood of a champion will seal my prison.”

“Wait. . . . What?” Alarmed looks appeared on both their faces, but Illyria’s next words alleviated their worries.

“Just enough blood to set the seals is enough.” Without waiting any longer for either of them to speak, she grabbed hold of their wrists.

Between one eye blink and the next, the three were teleported from Los Angeles to Coventry. Daylight was little less than an hour away and the two superhumans rocked forward, off balance from their trip. Illyria spun on her heels, moving toward the ancient tree marking the entrance to the Deeper Well.

Spike looked around, half expecting Drogyn to appear out of the mist clinging to the ground, but he did not. What a bleedin’ waste. . . We didn’t do any real lasting good at all. . .

His attention was drawn back to the present when Illyria suddenly turned to him, her open hand outstretched. At first he didn’t recognize the item sitting in her palm, until she turned so that the waning moonlight caught the edges of the green gem and he stared at it. “Blue?”

“Take it. It does belong to you.”

Spike hesitated long enough for Buffy to get exasperated with him. Her small fingers took it from Illyria’s hand, pressing it into Spike’s curled fist. “Can’t think of anyone else who should have it.”

His gaze swung from one female to the other, noting the approval on both faces. Spike nodded his head, slipping the Gem of Amarra on his finger. Buffy laced their hands together and as one they turned to face Illyria.

“It is time.”

The demon god turned away, stalking off toward the Deeper Well. Without any words, Buffy and Spike followed after, their eyes trained on the slight form ahead of them.

A casque appeared, hovering inches above the mist, very much like the one she’d been locked into before and Illyria placed her palm on the top, just below a glowing blue gem. Light flared from the gem, locks sprang and clicked, the door swinging open. Stepping into the iron box, Illyria glanced one last time at both of them. Sliding a hand into one of the many pockets of her leather skin, she lifted out a second blue gem identical to the one on the door. She stared at it, then thrust it at Buffy.

“Should you have need, she-warrior, this will summon me without ill effect.”

“Pet, are you certain about this?” Spike looked into her eyes, trying to find any emotions at all.

“This realm sickens me. The stench of humanity, the corrosion of what once was revolts my senses. I cannot walk among such refuse.” She raised a hand, and in some oddly endearing way, sneered at them. “You were the only one beside Wesley I tolerated, half-breed. Your presence and your mate are not enough to keep me here. It is time and I will it so.”

Without another word, the iron slammed shut and Illyria disappeared behind a flashing blue light. Spike stared at the casket for long moments, growled lowly in his throat, and, with a stretch of his neck, slid into game face. Using a fang, he opened a shallow cut on his left forefinger and sealed Illyria’s tomb. The second he was done, the casket disappeared and a resounding boom was heard from the depths of the Deeper Well.

He stood, staring off into the rising sun, his thoughts resting on a slight, brainy Texan, who’d cared for him, when no one else did. Buffy slipped into his arms, reaching up to wipe away his tears.

They stood like that for long minutes, bathed in early morning sunlight, until Spike came back to himself, his eyes drinking in the sight of Buffy, love and happiness in her eyes, looking up at him.

A slow grin formed on his face and he couldn’t help the laughter growing inside him.

“So pet, fancy a tour of Mother England?”

Buffy’s smile got wider and she laughed right along with him. “Wherever you wanna go.”

Wrapping his arm around her, Spike checked the rising sun and headed toward it.

“So Spike, about this mate thingy . . . “

His laugh echoed off the dissipating mist, traveling all the way into the blooming sunlight. One thing he knew, life with Buffy would never be dull. . . .

Not even if they lived forever . . .


Fin






Thank you, everyone who was kind enough to read and leave a review. I'm grateful to all of you for that. I hope you enjoyed this little story.