Buffy could almost have believed that she was in heaven again.

After several long months of being without him, of longing for him and yet knowing that she had lost him, possibly forever – here he was, finally in her arms. His cool, smooth lips sought hers hungrily, returning the kiss she had initiated with an intense fervor, as if trying to make up for all the time they had lost due to her tragic mistake.

He had been wanting *her*, too, she realized with a sense of relief and satisfaction, mingled with overwhelming joy.

As she pressed in nearer to him, she could feel the rising evidence of his desire for her, straining against the fabric of his jeans – knew that this encounter was quickly nearing the point of no return, reaching a place where neither one of them would be able to stop, even if they knew that they should.

And though a part of her desperately *wanted* it to reach that place, wanted to use this moment to solidify the connection that was slowly reforming between them -- she knew that she could not let things go that far – not here, in the middle of the graveyard, where they would be vulnerable and exposed to any nasty thing that might happen by.

Not here, and – not yet.

“Spike,” she whispered, pushing him gently back away from her, but only a few inches, just enough to break the kiss. “Spike – Spike, wait…”

Reluctantly, he complied, leaning back and looking into her eyes with a question in his hazy, lust-darkened gaze. “What is it, pet?” he asked in a low, husky voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she assured him, shaking her head with a small, almost shy smile. “Everything’s – perfect.” She paused, considering her words, before adding softly, with a smile of warmth and tender affection, “And let’s try to keep it that way.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side, his brow creased in a puzzled frown. “Love?” he made the single word a question, not quite understanding what she meant.

She slid in closer to him again, her hands at his hips, her eyes downcast as she thought about what exactly it was that she wanted to say. Spike sensed her uncertainty, and unconsciously mirrored her pose, his hands at her waist, his head slightly bowed, gently swaying just slightly with her, as he waited patiently for her to find the words to go on.

“I messed things up with you last time, Spike – by rushing things. By taking what could have become a beautiful friendship – and turning it into something dark and ugly that I had to be ashamed of – not because it was you,” she hurried to tell him, raising her eyes to his momentarily to be sure he understood, “but because it was *anyone* that I would give my body to, without giving my heart, too.”

She paused, before adding with a bittersweet softness to her voice, “Things could have been so much different – better.”

“We can make them better, this time around, love,” he reminded her, gracefully trying to help her move past her guilt and regret, while not acquitting her of her blame in the matter. “We will…”

“Yes,” she agreed softly, looking up to meet his eyes, “we will…but that means *not* making this all about sex.”

He blinked, a bit surprised by her blunt honesty, but said nothing as he waited expectantly for her to go on.

“I want to get to *know* you, Spike – inside and out,” she explained, a quiet yearning in her voice. “I want to be your friend, before I’m anything else. Yes, I know – we can never really be just friends again,” she amended before he could say anything in protest, “and I never would *want* to do that – but…”

She gazed earnestly into his eyes with a solemn, open expression, as she finished, “I want you to know that I’m going to be here for you in more ways than one. I want this relationship to be built on a stronger foundation this time around.”

Spike nodded slowly, accepting the truth and value of her words, respecting the wise decision she was making. She was right; if they were going to make this work, it had to be done differently this time.

As hard as it might prove to be, they were going to have to take things – slower.

“So,” he said in a low, quiet voice, carefully calm, looking down for a moment before meeting her eyes again, “what do we do now?”

Buffy smiled softly up at him, her love for him shining in her eyes, as she raised up slowly on her toes to kiss him gently, almost chastely, on his slightly parted lips. She drew back then, holding his gaze as she replied in a near whisper.

“We say good night.”

There was a look of longing in his eyes as they searched hers, and he moved unconsciously toward her a bit as she drew back – but he did not argue with her. He knew that she was right – as hard as it would be. And he also knew, with a sense of gratitude, that he would not have been able to resist the allure of the union his heart and body craved with her, if she had not been strong enough to resist it, too.

“Good night, Buffy,” he breathed out with an air of mingled relief and resignation.

“Good night, Spike,” she replied, and turned to go back toward her own house, leaving the slightly bewildered vampire to make his way back into his own crypt a few yards away, to ponder over the whirlwind events of the evening.


Halfrek’s vengeance curse had been broken in an instant, with the crushing of her pendant – but the effects of it took a bit longer to play out, for the guests of the birthday party, that fateful night.

Willow and Tara had continued the open communication that had begun that night, gradually spending more and more time together as they got to know each other again, slowly rebuilding the trust and closeness that had been broken by Willow’s serious, though unintentional, betrayals.

Tara’s leaving had helped Willow to face the fact that she *did* indeed have a problem with magic; and now that she knew it, she was able to accept the loving help that Tara offered her in overcoming her problem. They worked out an arrangement that would make Willow accountable to Tara, for whatever magic she performed, and why.

Willow knew that just *knowing* that she would have to tell Tara about it later, would help her to use more discretion in when and how she used her magic. She knew that it might take a while for things to get back to where they had once been between them – but she was beginning to believe that it might actually be possible to get there, given enough time.

Dawn was not quite as thrilled with the outcome of the vengeance wish she had made, though it had not turned out quite as badly as she had feared, either. When Buffy had returned to the house that night, Dawn had been certain that she was never going to be allowed to leave the house again, after the revelation of *her* little secret.

But strangely, in the end, her sister had seemed more concerned with the revelation of how deeply her emotional absence had been hurting her little sister, then she was with the stealing, that had only been the outward result of Dawn’s pent-up, out-of-control emotions.

Of course, Buffy told her in no uncertain terms that he would be returning what she still had, and paying back every penny of the rest, letting her know that the difficulty of the past year of Dawn’s life, while understandable, did *not* excuse turning to a life of crime. Dawn *was* grounded, and forbidden to go shopping at all, indefinitely, unless Buffy or another adult Buffy trusted was with her.

But then – in the same conversation, Buffy had also promised that she *would* go with her – shopping, or anywhere else she wanted to go – that weekend…and that she would be spending a lot more time at home from now on. While Dawn had rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically that now she would *never* know the taste of freedom again – a secret warmth of relief and reassurance had washed over her with the words.

It almost seemed worth the trouble she had gotten in, just to actually have her sister back again.

Xander and Anya, on the other hand, had not had such unexpectedly positive results from the whole situation.

Anya had told Xander that she still loved him, still wanted to marry him – but simply wasn’t sure at this point if she could…not yet. He had made it very clear to her, desperately, earnestly, that he was now ready to choose her over *anyone* else – he loved her completely, with everything in him.

But the fact that after being with her for several years now, he had only just come to that conclusion, did not tend to make Anya feel comfortable and secure in the idea of getting married on the date they had set, just a few short weeks away.

She surprised everyone – and devastated Xander – when she told him that she would not marry him on the day they had planned.

She told him that she simply needed more time, to be sure that he was ready to *really* commit to her, before she made that ultimate of human commitments, and pledged her life and love to him alone. She *did* love him, she assured him – but she had seen enough to know that sometimes, love was *not* enough to make a marriage work. She wanted to keep dating him, keep working on their relationship, until she was sure that they were both ready.

Surprised at the calm, reasonable manner of the ex-vengeance demon, who had spent a millennium inflicting torture on men who had made lesser mistakes than his, a very humbled Xander had accepted her terms with quiet resignation.

He really had little other choice.

Out of all the individuals affected by Halfrek’s curse – Buffy was sure that she and Spike had made out the best.

The honest, open words that had passed between them that night – both during and *after* the spell – had served to lay a foundation for the two of them to begin to rebuild their mangled relationship. The tense awkwardness that had characterized Buffy’s visits to his crypt – mostly due to his own determinatin not to let her get close – had shattered, leaving them both infinitely more vulnerable…

…but bound together with a closeness they had never shared before.

Buffy made it clear to her friends that Spike was welcome anywhere that she was, and that if he was not welcome – then neither was she. At her encouragement, he began to regularly attend the Scoobie meetings that Buffy started up again, on a regular basis, whether there was a new nasty to deal with or not.

The close knit little group had been drifting apart – and no one had really even noticed it.

But she was determined to get them back together again.

On the nights when everyone else seemed to be off doing other things – which became more and more frequent as Willow and Tara, and Xander and Anya, gradually began to repair their broken relationships – Buffy began to invite Spike over to the house to spend those evenings with her and Dawn.

One of their earliest genuine, open conversations as “friends” had been the one regarding Dawn and the emotional danger she had come to be in without their noticing it. They determined together, as the two adults who loved her more than anyone else did, to help give Dawn the support and affection she had been lacking – ever since her mother had passed on, really.

The common goal they shared, in Dawn’s best interests, only served to draw them closer together.

Although a part of Spike’s mind retained a certain wariness, he had made the conscious *decision* to place his trust in Buffy; and little by little, he began to feel safe and comfortable in the casual, mostly platonic intimacy that was gradually building between him and his former-and-hopefully-future-but-not-present lover. He looked forward to the quiet, comfortable nights at Buffy’s house, spent watching movies, or playing games, or just talking idly until Dawn was ready to go to bed.

The teenage had not seemed so contented and happy in a *very* long time.

After Dawn went to bed, the Slayer and the vampire would sometimes go and patrol together, depending on how tired they were. Sometimes, they would just stay there on the courch and talk, about nothing and everything, and all points in between.

The no-touching rule had fallen by the wayside completely, and their time together was filled with casual affectionate touches – a sideways half-hug as they passed in a doorway – a brief touch to the arm or back while they were talking – sometimes, they would even sit very close together on the courch during or after the movies, and Spike would allow her to rest her head on his shoulder – or rest his on hers.

Buffy cherished these tender, easy moments between them – but she could not deny that she wanted more.

And judging from the physical reaction she felt from him at some of these times, while resting pressed against him on the couch – so did Spike.

But he made no move to take their relationship that crucial step further – and she did not push him to. She knew that he was slowly growing to trust her again, as she took the chance he gave her to prove that she really meant what she had said, that she really did love him. She made a point of making her feelings for him clear in private and in public – letting Spike know that she loved him, and was not ashamed of the fact or of him.

And gradually – he was coming to truly believe it.

The cool, cautious demeanor he had held with her had slowly given way to a warmth and affection that she had never had to work for before, before she had shattered his heart so ruthlessly. Now, she was slowly earning back the right to Spike’s trust and affection, and the truth was – it was a difficult and painfully slow process.

The last thing she wanted to do was spoil it.

For too long, she had used sex as a tool to control and manipulate him, to get him to do what she wanted – and to keep from *really* having to get close to him, to keep from opening up and developing the emotional intimacy he had craved. Now, she knew that physical intimacy had to come *after* she had given herself to him emotionally – and he had given himself to *her* as well. When they finally *did* make love again, she wanted him to know that she had no ulterior motives, that she was doing it solely because she loved him.

And the only way that she could be sure that he would know that, was if she was already sure that she held his trust in every other area.

So it was that she was sitting in her living room a couple of months after the vengeance wish incident, with Spike’s head resting comfortably on her shoulder, and Dawn’s head leaning back against her knees from wher the girl sat on the floor in front of them, watching the credits roll across the television screen at the end of “The Princess Bride”.

And wanting to be doing so much more.

She glanced down at the silky brunette hair spread out in a riotous mass across her knees, and the incredibly relaxed posture of her sister, the dead weight against her legs that indicated that once again, the girl had fallen asleep before the end of the movie.

Spike did not move or speak – seemed content to simply rest his head against her shoulder, one cool hand resting lightly on her leg. The easy familiarity of his simple touch was encouraging.

But, God, how she longed to touch him – a bit less casually!

She wanted to quickly hustle her little sister off to bed, then come back to this couch and kiss him and touch him and make love to him all night, until neither of them was capable of moving anymore.

Of course – she didn’t.

“I think Dawnie’s asleep,” she spoke in a hushed, husky voice, just wanting to break the silence, shifting slightly in her seat.

“Mmmm…” A soft murmur of assent was the only response to her comment; Spike made no move to rise and help her move Dawn to her room – so apparently, he was a bit on the sleepy side himself.

Buffy stifled a little sigh that would certainly have tuned the very perceptive vampire in to her mood.

But then – maybe that would not have been such a bad thing, after all.

“Spike – um…I’ve been thinking,” she began softly, her voice little more than a whisper, so as not to disturb her sister. She knew that Spike would have no trouble hearing her.

“…well,” she went on, a bit hesitantly, “I think maybe it’s time we – tried—taking this thing to the next level – again…you know?” She continued hurriedly, not giving time for the dismissal she feared, going on, “…I know it’s not really been that long, and maybe you’re not ready yet, but…oh God, Spike, it feels like *forever*!” she admitted, almost apologetically.

“…and I really think we’re – we’re *there* now, you know? Or at least – we *could* be there – if you *wanna* be there – because you know *I* want to be there. You *do* wanna be there – don’t you?” Her words trailed off, her voice small and uncertain, as she suddenly wondered if perhaps he *didn’* want to be at that point yet – if perhaps he just wasn’t ready.

Had she scared him off? He was being so quiet – why didn’t he say something?

“Spike?” she said hesitantly – then frowned, puzzled. She pulled away slightly so that she could look down to see his face – and felt the limp, heavy weight of his body slide downward as she moved, rather than supporting himself as she had expected him to do.

He was fast asleep – had been the whole time.

He frowned slightly at the barely registered disturbance, shifting his body down the courch in his sleep, to stretch out and rest his head in her lap – all without waking at all.

Buffy gazed down at the peaceful, contented expression on his face, her fingers moving slowly to run through his hair in an unconscious display of the tenderness she felt for him in that moment. His fine features were smooth and relaxed – and utterly flawless. She could not believe that for so long she had never noticed how – how absolutely *perfect* he was.

*And I almost lost him,* she realized with a fresh shock. *So close to *not* having this…*

Even if they were not quite to where she longed to be – they were so much further than they had been – and that was something, she had to admit. Just to be able to sit here with him, so relaxed and comfortable…that he would trust her enough to be so relaxed, to sleep like this, with his head in her lap…

She had read somewhere recently that that was a sign of true trust – to be able to lie down and go to sleep, to become completely vulnerable and place your well-being completely in someone else’s hands – just to be able to *sleep* in their presence.

*He *does* trust me,* she realized suddenly, her eyes widening in a slowly rising elation at the knowledge. *He does…*

A slow smile spread across her lips, her eyes lighting up with joy, a warmth stealing over her heart.

Tonight – tonight he was clearly exhausted.

But maybe Spike *was* ready, after all.