Out of this World by kittiekat

Chapter #1 - December

A/N: I really, really hope this take on their meeting might be something you'd enjoy. This fic is finished! If you'd rather I just post all the chapters at once, I'll gladly do so. I don't want you to feel like I'm being cruel and unusual. :) I hope there'll be a few reviews and if so, tell me what you'd like. Three chapters at a time is the going rate. All My Love - Annie. Out of this World ¤ December ¤ The Slayer sat comfortably lounging in a deep leather armchair. She occasionally took a sip from a red-tainted drink, which she kept within easy reach on one of the armrests, while her eyes took in the people around her with a relaxation which – ten years ago – wouldn’t only have been improbable, but impossible. Now – at twenty-eight and having dodged more lethal situations than she sometimes cared to admit – she had grown out of the tingles her spider senses would send down her spine whenever there was a darker creature close by. The tingles were still there, but the warning had slowed its urgency, and she almost enjoyed feeling it tugging its way cautiously over her shoulders and down between her shoulder blades. She was always up for a challenge, and since they truly had gotten scarcer and scarcer, as her already honed skills grew ever more powerful, she respected the tingle for the prospect it represented. But she never did pay it much heed anymore. That was, of course, one of the main reasons why she was so shocked at the sound of his voice. “I’d ask myself what you’re doing here,” it said and she looked up as he finished: “but I know your answer’ll be much more colorful.” Strange, was all she could think. Strange how cards were dealt. How happenstances play such mighty parts. How those eyes never changed. Even after a little death they hadn’t changed. But he was different. She was different. She had known this was inevitable. Someday, somewhere, they were bound to run into one another. Though this seemed the least likely place. She smiled, with ease. “I’m celebrating,” she replied, indicating the empty armchair next to her and he sunk down in it, putting his glass on the table and eyeing her in silence before saying: “I don’t see any champagne.” She smiled again. “It’s not that kind of celebration.” “There’s no other kind.” She raised her glass. “Beg to differ,” she said meaningfully, taking a mouthful of the liquid and swallowing slowly. He smiled as well, but said nothing more, merely waited for her to elaborate. She put the glass back down, her gaze in his, searching his face and finding it familiar, but it had something more now. Something that came from having lived with people he cared for, for so many years. Their imprints were there. The softness in his smile; the effortlessness with which it appeared; a new glint in his eye. “I beat the bad guy,” she said with a nod to her drink. “I like something fruity at the end of a hard days work, what can I say?” “Well, you can admit to there being one ounce of fruit and three quarts of tequila in there,” he offered. She smirked. “Devil,” she retorted. “To devils,” he said, raising his glass and she brought hers to it. “They make the world a bit more interesting.” “You always managed to, didn’t you?” she agreed, taking a sip. “And without trying.” “Yes, it all came so naturally.” “Oh, it did, I assure you.” She smirked. “Assurance is the last thing I need, I was there, I remember.” He tilted his head a little to one side and for a second she was back in Sunnydale, back in his crypt. But only for a second. “Been awhile,” he mumbled and her eyes were in his again. “Six years,” she said. “God, has it really been that long?” “Time flies, doesn’t it?” “On rather large wings.” “Rushes by.” “Always something to do, somewhere to be.” They grew silent. Both of them knowing that they were about to apologize. Both of them not wanting to speak the words out loud, neither of them needing to hear them. It was done, unchangeable. Whatever reason they had had to do the run-around with each other for all this time, it seemed to be paling now that they were sitting face to face. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see you, she would say. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be seen, he would ensure. It was just never the right time, they would agree. Something came up. Something pulled me away and I couldn’t be there. Something made it impossible for me to stand before you. And I don’t know what. And I’m not sure why I felt that way. But I chose to let it be there, and I didn’t try to remove it, and maybe it was cowardice, maybe it was something deeper, but at the end of the day... I didn’t want to see you just then. “It’s weird that he’s married,” she finally said. Spike seemed to come out of a reverie, blinking, nodding. “I thought you’d end up together,” he said. “In the end.” She stared at him. Then smiled, shaking her head a little as she didn’t know what to say to that. “Angel will always be...” she trailed off, looking at her shoes, at the sparkling diamonds covering the toe and running to the heel. “...someone you kiss hello?” Spike said helpfully. At the playful tone in his voice she met his gaze, and another smile drew over her lips. “Yes.” “And what am I?” he wondered, the playfulness deepening. Her smile widened. “I’d kiss you hello,” she stated. “Only you didn’t say hello, now did you?” He watched her for a few seconds before leaning forward and saying: “Hello.” She laughed, but slid onto the edge of her chair and leaned forward as well, the tip of her nose by his. Placing a hand lightly on his cheek she said: “Hello.” Closing her eyes she didn’t hesitate before kissing him softly on the lips. Pulling back she rested her gaze in his and thought she caught the glimpse of a different shade in them, a new emotion attacking him, but it disappeared as he merely wore a satisfied grin, sinking back in his chair. She laughed again. “Guess some things never change,” she said, scooting back and grabbing her drink. “Yeah, how have you gotten by without me?” She smiled at that. “Desperately and forlornly.” He returned the smile. “Have a hard time seeing that.” “Then take a look around; here I am, all alone, toasting my victories.” “You sound like you might need saving.” “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Someone up there saw me and didn’t think it was fair, so they sent me you.” His smile lingered. “To angels then,” he offered. “Sometimes they’re a pain in the ass, but when they’re watching your back...” “...they’re a pain in the neck?” “Better your neck than your ass,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively and she smiled again, drinking the toast. “Funny,” she said. “I’d ‘ve pegged you for a neck-guy any day of the week.” He gave her a look and her smile broadened. “I know why you’re in Malta,” he acknowledged. “But you have to tell me why you ended up in this dive.” “It’s not a dive,” she protested. “It’s cozy,” she added firmly. “So it’s a cozy dive.” “It’s quiet,” she said, ignoring his input. “Never any brawls.” “They’re playing jazz,” he commented with a slight frown. “I like jazz. It’s soothing. And why are you here, if you think it’s so bad?” “It’s the only place that serves blood before eleven!” She smiled. He smiled back. They grew silent again. She was glad that he had chosen to approach her. She was happy that there was no staleness between them; she could have handled anything but that. She wasn’t sure what she felt when she looked at him. It was shadowed emotions that stirred within her. But it was nice to laugh with him. And she had always known that part of her probably never would stop missing him. “I hear you’re free to roam the world,” he said. She sipped her drink, resting her eyes in his for a second, contemplating the question. “Semi-free,” she consented. “The Slayer Machine grinds me here and there and... everywhere.” He smiled knowingly. “But wanna take one lousy vacation...” “I get stuck,” she filled in, smiling as well. “I don’t mind.” “Nights like these...” “In a new part of the world.” “Make up for it,” he finished. “I would’ve thought you’d retire.” “Retire from what?” she laughed. “My calling?” The sarcasm in the last word didn’t go by unnoticed and he watched her, then said: “You have others sharing it. There would be no guilt.” “No, but the things that go bump in the night are hard to shut out. Hear someone screaming for help, what ‘re you gonna do?” “Yes, and when you have someone constantly bloody reminding you of what you owe and what you have to make up for and... well, it doesn’t paint a pretty picture, does it?” She smirked. “Angel keeping a tight leash?” “Who’s talking Peaches?” he asked. “I’m talking about myself.” She chuckled, shaking her head at him. “You’ve done a lot of good,” she said. “I wouldn’t have seen you and Angel forming such a lasting partnership, but...” They both smiled at that. “He’s alright, when he’s not trying his best to annoy the hell out of you,” Spike replied, making her laugh once more. ¤ “I wouldn’t know which country to choose.” He shrugged, putting his glass of beer on the table. It had been refilled, as had Buffy’s drink. “Where are you most at home?” “That’s the trouble, I’m not sure. I loved Rome, but there’s something about England, too. And Giles is there, and Willow.” “Paris, then?” She met his gaze. “You’ve kept yourself informed, I’m flattered.” “Wouldn’t wanna miss what the Bit’s up to.” She smiled. “Right.” He smiled back. “Paris is a great city,” he picked up. “And if Dawn’s there...?” “Yes, but a country or two between us is sometimes a very good thing.” He smirked. “And I admit I occasionally miss America.” “So come to Los Angeles.” She merely eyed him. “What?” “It seems that would be the stuff of dire consequences.” “Why?” She raised her eyebrows. “No, it’s a fair question,” he insisted. “Angel’s married, Wesley’s harmless, I’m... not as forward anymore.” “I disagree.” At his quizzical expression she added: “You managed to pawn a kiss off me within ten minutes of sitting down!” He smiled in fake self-consciousness. “I hear Tokyo’s lovely this year,” he smoothly redirected the subject. She let it slide, replying: “Too far.” “Good.” She rested her eyes in his, smiling a little. ¤ “Alright, you have to tell me where the coat is,” she said. He looked down at the black trousers and white T he was wearing. “I left it at home,” he answered. “Oh,” she said. “You thought it was more complicated than that?” “Well, you seemed so attached to it.” He smiled. “I still am.” “It’s gotten a bunch of holes in it, hasn’t it? So you’ve hung it on a hanger in the wardrobe and you take it out from time to time to look at it and remember those good old days when you could slip it on simple as that.” His smile broadened. “No,” he said. “I’m just... trying on something new.” She choked on her drink, looking at him with big eyes. “So, not wearing it is actually your choice? You have changed.” “I made some of my own choices back then,” he objected. She looked at him for a long moment, then smiled. “Yeah, you did.” ¤ “You’re crazy!” she laughed. “You are insane. There’s nothing that beats a couch.” “A bed!” “No, no, no, seriously. You try to pile up the pillows, but you end up with a sore back and having to change positions. No, a couch.” He was silent for a moment. “A lounge chair, with footrest.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I think I’ve underestimated you, Mr. Kingsley.” He smiled a crooked smile at the use of his last name. “Always did,” he said. “No,” she shook her head slowly. “Not always.” ¤ They had moved their chairs so that they were facing each other, Buffy having kicked off her shoes and claimed a spot for her legs between his thigh and the armrest next to it. The alcohol had placed a shimmering blur over their shared repose, and when he pulled one of her feet into his lap, his fingers beginning a massage that had her toes curl and her eyes close, she didn’t think twice about it. “Mh, those hands,” she murmured. “Where’d you learn that?” “Self-taught. Many hours of training on various test-subjects. Perfected it about a year ago, that subject went to delicious little pieces.” He paused. “You falling apart yet?” She opened her eyes, smiling as she pulled her foot away before giving him a friendly kick in the stomach. “Shut up.” He caught her ankle and brought her foot back to its original position, nonchalantly starting the massage up again. She sunk further into her chair with a pleasure-filled sigh. “You seeing anyone?” he wondered much too casually for it to be casual. She had another smile on. “I see you, does that count?” He gave the sole of her foot a harsh squeeze and she sat up. “Ow,” she protested, but her smile didn’t fade. “No,” she then answered his question. “I’ve no patience for dating anymore.” “What about a cure for the itch?” he asked, his thumb sliding from her heel to her big toe and she bit her lower lip, meeting his gaze. “Dating is as far from a cure as you can get.” He smirked. “Cynic.” “Realist!” “And what cure do you prefer?” he inquired, his hand moving to her ankle and softly sliding up her shin. She looked at him and had a sudden flash in her head of straddling him, of feeling herself pressing down on him, her mouth hot on his. It was so strong and took her so completely off guard that she drew a breath and brought her legs away from any touch he might choose to bestow on them. “You know, we’ve spent, what, five hours in this cozy dive, and you haven’t said anything about my shoes,” she said, reaching down and bringing them up for his viewing pleasure. His eyes didn’t leave hers right away, and she felt she was being scrutinized. “Pretty,” he then said. “You didn’t even look.” “Beautiful,” he said, eyes not leaving hers and she had a sudden thrill run through her at the expression they bore. “They glitter,” she tried, holding the footwear up a little higher. “But do they dance?” he asked, rising and holding a hand out to her. She took it, getting to her feet as well. She left the shoes on her seat and they walked onto the small dance floor. There was no one else to take up space. His hand went to the small of her back, the dress she was in being low cut and he brushed her skin lightly, making slow goose bumps spread over her arms as she raised them to put them around his neck. When had this happened? she wondered. The crack in a conviction which had sustained her for a very long time: that their meeting would be platonic and that nothing would remain of the old, because they would be new, they would have started afresh. And yet now there was no denying that this overwhelming pull, which he had always had on her, was still there. That small touch had opened the door to it, and though she had thought her desire for him dead and buried, here it was, shaking the ashes off and spreading its dazzling sensation through her. The way his body moved, his scent, this nearness... She had to keep her hands from roaming over a territory they had once so easily claimed. The song finished. She looked up at him. “It’s getting late,” she mumbled. “I suppose,” he said. “For you.” “Yeah. I’ve got sort of an early flight tomorrow. So, I really should...” “Get going?” She nodded. “Alright, I’ll walk you to your hotel.” “You know you don’t have to.” “I know.” She smiled. “Okay, then.” The night air was heavy with the smell of flowers. The sound of cicadas seemed to be echoing from every patch of green. The sky was big and black and beautiful, little dots of glimmering white obscuring its depth and making it seem closer than it was. Buffy looked at him as they walked. “Thank you,” she said. He turned his head to her. “For?” “The dance.” “My pleasure.” “And tonight. I wanted the company.” “Me too.” He gave a nod to something ahead, asking: “That your hotel?” She looked up and was taken aback at how quickly they had reached it. “Yes,” she said. They proceeded up the few steps bringing them into the lobby. Its lighting was soft and the interior was old, but quaint. “Nice,” Spike said. “You don’t have to take me to my door, you know,” she remarked as she pushed the button for the elevator. “I know,” he repeated and again she smiled. She had the suction of expectation in the pit of her stomach as they stepped into the contraption, but she tried to disregard it as they began the ascent. She ran through at least a dozen things to say on the ride up to the forth – and top – floor, but discarded them all as too trite. When the doors opened she stepped out and walked five doors down, finding her key in her pocketbook and keeping her hands from shaking slightly as she brought the key into the lock. Turning it she opened the door and stepped inside. As soon as his hand placed itself at her waist she knew what was going to happen. She turned around and he stepped into her, pressing her to the wall behind her, and in one fluid motion he was close and his lips caught hers hungrily. Her heart was fluttering like a caught bird between her ribs, the taste of him sending her into a frenzy of emotions of want and lust and it was all stronger than she had felt in much too long. They undressed each other haphazardly, moving into the room. She splayed herself on the bed while he pulled her thong off with a leisure she was far from feeling. And then he was on top of her, his skin against hers, his mouth, his tongue, his hands, and he entered her, filling her, making her catch her breath and bury her hands in his hair, wanting to be even nearer, wanting to melt away in this rapture. They moved together, entwined, slowly reaching the peak together. She was shaking. They were kissing, and couldn’t stop. ¤ She woke at half past ten, opening one eye and glancing at the clock on the nightstand. She was awake in the next blink. Her head pounded its protest, but she dragged herself off the bed and stumbled across the room to the bathroom, glancing over at Spike, stretched out and still asleep. Smiling a little she grabbed a fresh set of clothes and closed the door of the bathroom behind her. She washed up, not believing she had slept so late. Had she even set the alarm? She couldn’t have slept more than four hours, and she looked like it. Frowning at her reflection she pulled her fingers through her hair and began collecting her toiletries. Bringing them into the bedroom she managed to get her suitcase open with one foot, letting the things fall as gently as she could into it, and then beginning to collect her clothes. She hadn’t brought much; it had only been a four day trip. “Hey.” She turned her head to him and stopped what she was doing to grant him a smile. “Hey,” she said. “It’s not how it looks.” He smirked at that, putting his arms under his head and raising his eyebrows. “You’re not packing frantically so you won’t miss your flight?” “Well, if you’re gonna be a smart-ass,” she rolled her eyes. It didn’t take long for her to finish, and once she did she came up to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He reached up a hand and brushed aside a few locks of her hair, touching her cheek and she leaned forward, kissing him softly. The kiss deepened and she groaned in meek objection as he put his arms around her and rolled her over on her back. “I have to go,” she mumbled. “Five minutes.” Her eyebrows rose, unconvinced. “Alright, then, ten.” “No!” she giggled, his mouth against hers once more. “Spike,” she said firmly. He muttered, rolling onto his back and to her vexation releasing her. The sad truth still remained that she really had to leave. She sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. “This was... nice,” he said, making her look at him with a newborn smile on her mouth. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.” “You never know,” she replied. Two hours later she was at the small airport, and the memory of the night prior was like a soft, warm, fuzzy blanket. Like a brightly shining secret that fit perfectly in her palm, and she could close her fingers around it, and hide it, or she could look at it. She was looking at it.

Chapter #2 - January

¤ January ¤ The girl on the snow-covered pavement was whimpering. Her neck was bleeding from two fresh puncture wounds. Buffy’s eyes were fixed in the vampire’s before her. He was tall, thin and sleek with short-cut hair and a long coat, which looked a little too wannabe to her. She crinkled her nose. “I know the look for your kind has been set through popular fiction for the past, what, one hundred years? But really, what is it with the black?” “Helps us blend in,” the vampire replied, moving forward. She easily met its punch, averting it with one arm. “Well, you delude yourself if you want to,” she said, punching him in the stomach and delivering an awesome hook to his chin, having him stumble backwards as she finished: “Makes you stand out to me.” It growled, and she smiled, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re just buying the whole package, aren’t you?” “Don’t be so hard on him.” She turned her head at the sound of Spike’s voice, her eyes meeting his as he stopped by the girl still rolled into a protective ball on the ground. He was wearing the duster, and a small flare of want began to burn within her. “He’s just a fledgling,” he added, reaching down and carefully pulling the girl to her feet. His gaze left Buffy’s as he fastened it in the girl’s, saying: “You’re alright. You’re safe.” Buffy, on the other hand, received a kick in the head. Literally. She lost her balance and landed on her stomach with a hard thud, glaring up at her assailant, who was more than ready to deliver its next blow. “Ow,” she grumbled, lying on her back and swinging her legs up and around, hitting the vampire in the chest before she spun in an angle, rolled backwards and landed on her knees. She grabbed the vampire’s ankle as it was attempting another kick, turned the foot to the right, and pushed as hard as she could, making the creature fly ten feet through the air and hit a tree. Spike’s hands took hold of her upper arms from behind, getting her to her feet. A rush went through her. She hadn’t seen him in over a month and still that rush went through her. The other vampire got up, staring at her, at his bleached kin, and then turning and running for its life. Buffy glanced skyward before she met Spike’s gaze. He smiled a little. She returned it and then they got moving after the runaway. “I’ll go through,” Spike said as they caught glimpse of the demon ducking into a wide patch of high bushes. “Meet you on the other side.” She brought her stake out, running along the bushes’ edge, hearing branches cracking within it. She stopped where she estimated the vampire would appear, bracing herself as the branches began swinging, and then throwing herself forward. A hand gripped the wrist which was swinging the weapon. “Bloody hell!” Spike exclaimed and she dropped the stake as she realized exactly who she was attacking. “Can’t you see the difference between me and that bleeding brat?!” She stared at him, apologetically, and then she couldn’t hold down a smile. He mirrored it, reluctantly, letting her go and shaking his head. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Living the life of the carefree, couldn’t you tell?” “I mean, in New York.” He tilted his head a little to the side. “I’m here with Angel. For work.” “Ah. I’m here to see Xander,” she said. “In case you wondered.” “Ah. You’re not here to do the slaying, then?” She glanced around, the fledgling being nowhere to be seen. “Apparently not,” she sighed. “How is Xander?” She raised her eyebrows slightly, then bent down to pick up her weapon, tucking it into her belt as they started walking back to the scene of the crime. “He’s fine.” “Heard he was gonna have a baby.” Buffy smiled. “Yeah, can you believe it? The first of the gang to start a family. Where are you staying?” “At a hotel on Eighth.” “Xander’s just moved to Brooklyn. So I have to take the train and... But it’s okay, I mean, it’s a nice house and Jackie really likes it. They’re getting married in the spring.” God, I’m babbling, she thought. “Angel told me.” “I was surprised you weren’t at Angel’s wedding.” “It was his fault. He sent me away.” They stopped at the spot where the attack had happened earlier. The girl was gone. “Hope she wasn’t too traumatized,” Buffy said, turning to Spike. “They have a way of blocking it out. She’ll be fine.” “Yeah,” she said. They grew quiet, looking at each other. Buffy smiled. “So,” she said. “So,” he said as well. “Good fight.” “I didn’t fight.” “No, but for me it was. Pretty good. Not really, got kicked in the head, but overall...” But then he stepped forward and his mouth was against hers and she couldn’t talk anymore, only return the kiss, and she did, her arms wrapping around him, the world seeping away through invisible holes and left was only the excitement of guessing what was to come. He backed her away from the path and into the darkness of trees and leaves and softness of snow, sinking down with his tongue telling hers all its secrets. This time they roughly got the obstacles out of the way, Buffy’s breathing growing heavier for each moment and when he finally was inside her she stifled a moan as she climaxed instantly. She met his thrusts, her lips to his once more, feeling as though they were losing their minds, wondering what she was doing, and having all the doubts sift away with everything else as the pleasure built its fortress within her. ¤ Her cell-phone was ringing. It sounded angry. She sleepily reached for it. “What?” “Buffy, where are you?!” She looked around and noted the unfamiliar room. For a second longer she was completely disoriented, and then her eyes landed on Spike lying next to her. Right, his hotel room. Right. “I’m... I’m in the city,” she answered Xander’s question, sitting up and wedging the cell-phone between her ear and shoulder as she grabbed her shirt lying on the floor next to the bed. “It’s seven o’clock in the morning, what did you do, sleep in the park?!” She swallowed, smiling and beginning to button the buttons. “No. But it got so late that I found a hotel room. I didn’t want to have to wake you guys.” Which was all true, minus a few more sorted details. “You could’ve called.” “It was late!” And that was why her cell-phone was out of her coat pocket. She had contemplated calling, but it had been close to one o’clock, if she remembered correctly, and the sound of Spike undressing had been slightly distracting. “Alright,” Xander muttered. “I’m sorry I woke you.” “No, no, don’t be sorry!” she said. “I should get going anyway. I’ll be there in time for breakfast.” “You don’t have to...” “But I want to,” she interrupted. “I’ll be there.” She hung up, turning her head to look over her shoulder at Spike. She smiled at the fact that he was still sleeping, remembering a time when she had thrown candles at him as everything else had been to no avail. Putting on the rest of her clothes she ripped a piece of the hotel stationary and wrote him a short note. Placing it on the now vacant spot next to him she quietly left the room. ¤ “Hi!” she yelled, stomping the snow off in the hallway and getting her coat off. “I’m here!” “Hey,” Jackie said, waddling into the hall with a bright smile on. She gave Buffy a kiss on the cheek before taking her coat and hanging it up while Buffy kicked off her shoes. “Sorry I’m so late. I hope I didn’t worry you.” “We know – well, I know – that you can take care of yourself.” “I know she can take care of herself!” Xander’s voice was heard from the kitchen. “But she gets hurt sometimes too!” The two women entered the room and he looked at Buffy as he finished: “You do, you know.” “I know,” she smiled, patting his shoulder. He frowned, looking down at her. “What’s up with your shirt?” She raised her eyebrows, then looked down. The buttons were off. She smiled, shrugging. “Maybe lateness was just a bad excuse,” Jackie suggested meaningfully. “Maybe she got lucky.” Buffy glanced at her, feeling to her detriment a sudden blush rising to her cheeks. “Left in a hurry. Didn’t wanna miss these,” she therefore answered rapidly, grabbing a fresh muffin from the newly bought batch on the kitchen counter. “You rushed into the cold for a muffin?” Jackie laughed. “Come on, what’s his name?” “Stop it,” Buffy said. “And she doesn’t deny it!” Jackie smiled. “Buff?” Xander wondered, furrowing his brow questioningly. “I love muffins!” she replied, giving Jackie a pleading look before heading for the door. “I need a shower. Be right down!” “She actually does love muffins,” Xander said, turning back to the eggs he was frying.

Chapter #3 - February

¤ February ¤ Buffy looked up when Willow came into the living room of Giles’ house. “Hey, you’re back,” the Slayer said. “Yeah, after a painful week,” Willow sighed, sinking down on the window seat where Buffy was sitting. “Why, what happened?” “Oh, nothing,” Willow muttered. “Jenna was there. It was weird.” “That’s too bad. I was hoping you’d ‘ve moved past all that.” “She’ll never change,” Willow said. “It’s just so frustrating. And then there’s the tension and the not knowing what to say and the awkward silence.” She shuddered. “And of course she can’t help trying to show off for Cyndra.” “But Cyndra’s not the kind to care.” “And she doesn’t. She doesn’t see it as a contest. Magic’s something personal, that comes from in here,” Willow stated, shoving a finger in her own chest as underlining. “But Jenna...” She trialed off, scratching her hand in annoyance and seemingly wanting to leave it at that. Buffy eyed her in silence, then came to a decision and said: “I met Spike.” Willow’s gaze was in hers the next second, incredulous. “When?” “Remember that trip to Malta?” “Malta?! That’s... almost three months ago. You met him then?” “Yes.” “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for you guys to finally... Wait, what was he doing in Malta?” “Actually I never got around to asking.” “So you just ran into him?” “No. I was sitting, so technically he ran into me. Walked-ran?” Willow stared at her. “What happened? Did you talk?” “Yes.” “How’d you feel?” “What do you mean how did I feel?” “You’ve been avoiding the vamp for half a decade; you must have some sort of feelings about this meeting!” Buffy knew it was pointless trying to say there had been no avoiding of the vampire. She simply made a face of innocent hesitation before she said: “We had a few drinks, a few laughs, a dance and ended up in bed. All very simple. All very us. Isn’t it very us?” “So you’re an ‘us’ now?” Buffy’s mouth almost fell open, but before the protest could be voiced Willow held up her hands and stopped it. She was quiet for a few very long moments, taking this information in and observing Buffy’s face. “Have you talked with him since then?” “Yes. He was in New York.” “He was in New York.” “Don’t say it like that.” “Like what?” “Like I haven’t already said it!” Willow smiled a little. “I’m not judging here.” Buffy sunk back against the window frame, looking outside, gathering her thoughts. “I know,” she mumbled. “And in New York?” “Yeah, in New York,” Buffy pretty much confirmed the insinuation. “Does Xander know?” Buffy merely gave her a look and Willow smirked. “Wow.” “Yeah.” “Are you still in love with him?” “No!” Buffy smiled. “No, it’s not like that. For him either. It’s just... being with him...” “Having sex with him, let’s call the kettle black.” “Fine, then. He’s good, Will. You can’t even... It’s like he finds new ways of touching me. God, I get weak all over just thinking about it. It’s not funny!” Willow held down the smile. “He goes through me,” Buffy mumbled, her gaze drifting to the view outside the window again, her fingertips gracing her lips. “But you haven’t spoken to him since New York?” “No.” Willow furrowed her brow, smoothing it when Buffy glanced at her. “They’re coming on Saturday,” the Slayer said. “He and Angel and Isabel.” “Coming here?” ¤ “Hi!” “I officially hate flying!” “Heathrow was a bloody mess!” “We’re happy you’re here.” “It’s so good to see you!” Buffy embraced Isabel, who had been sporting a rather large rock on her left ring finger for nearly a year now. Then she hugged Angel hard. She had hoped there would be no silence of anticipation as she faced Spike, but of course the tumult of fond greetings was interrupted when she turned to him. “Hi,” she said. It occurred to her that he might have told Angel about the fact that he had met her before, but then she discarded that thought. She knew Angel would have called and asked her about it. “Hi,” Spike replied, smiling a little. The tension lifted, and Giles turned to Isabel and Angel while Willow began helping with the suitcases. ¤ “And so I said to him, that’s not what this is about. You know what he said to me?” Angel asked. Everybody shook their heads. “He said: Damn right, it’s about whooping your ass into shape.” Everybody laughed. He smiled as well. “I had to agree,” he shrugged, Isabel giving him a kiss. Buffy chewed on a baby carrot, left over on her plate from dinner, listening halfheartedly to something Willow said to Giles as her eyes met Spike’s. She smiled a small smile, and he mirrored it. “What do you say we move this into the sitting room?” Giles asked. They all rose, bringing their coffee into the adjoining room and spreading out on comfortable couches and in armchairs. Buffy sat in one of the latter, placing her legs on the small stool in front of it. Spike had a seat in one of the couches, raising his cup to her and she kept the smile down, raising hers to him as well, bringing it to her lips and sipping the liquid as her eyes turned to Giles. ¤ “Here’s the last of it,” Willow said, putting a few dishes down on the counter in the kitchen, where Buffy was filling up the dishwasher. “Thanks, Will,” she said. “You head up to bed; I’ll take care of this.” “You sure?” “Yeah, go on.” “Thanks,” Willow said, kissing her on the cheek. “Good night.” “Night.” She turned on the faucet and started rinsing the plates. “Want some help?” She jerked, turning her head to him with a reproachful look. “Jeez, stealth much?!” He just smiled. “I thought you went to bed.” She turned back to what her hands were doing, then bent down and put the plate in the dishwasher. Grabbing the next in line she let the water slide over it. “I heard Willow come up,” he murmured in her ear and she closed her eyes as she felt her shoulder blades connect with his chest. “Meant you were left behind,” he added, one of his hands sliding under her top. “I volunteered,” she mumbled, blindly putting the plate down in the sink as his fingers reached her left breast. “Convenient,” he said, his lips caressing her neck and she drew a shivering breath as his free hand moved down her stomach, snaking its way into her pants. She arched her back, resting her head on his shoulder. She placed her hands where his were, clenching her jaws together to keep from making a sound. She shuddered as the orgasm exploded its way into her. Her body relaxed gradually and he moved his hands, placing them on her hips, waiting. She slowly turned around to look up at him. “Kiss me,” she said and his mouth was hers to claim in an instant. The kiss was hard and raw and everything she had longed for, for nearly four weeks. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs tight around his waist as he placed her on the counter, the dishes clanking ominously as they were shifted. His hands were pushing her tightly against him, his tongue persuasive and beckoning. But then a flash of sanity came into her head, and it was bright enough to wake her out of the stupor she was in, drinking him up in the way she was. “We can’t,” she gasped, beginning to squirm away. “We can’t.” She made him stop, made him meet her gaze. “I can’t. Not here,” she said. He looked at her, then closed his eyes with a moan, sliding her off the counter to stand on both feet before him. She smiled as he once more looked at her. He smiled back. She stood on her toes, kissing him softly. “Good night,” she whispered. He pulled her into an embrace, kissing her deeply. “Good night,” he said as he let her go. “Devil,” she grumbled and he smiled again, turning and leaving. ¤ “It’s raining,” he muttered the following evening. She took a seat next to him on the stairs. “Yup.” “Has it been raining all day?” “On and off. You sleep well?” “Once I got to sleep,” he smirked and she nudged him with one arm. “What do you do on a rainy day?” She rested her eyes in his, then smirked. ¤ “Harder!” she exclaimed, bringing her arm down. It had just blocked his punch and she raised her eyebrows. “Has it really been long enough for you to forget how much I can take?” He smiled. “Warm-up, sweetheart. Don’t want you to strain anything.” She kicked up a leg, hitting him square in the chest and sending him straight into a wall. Giles’ basement was handy for so many things. She smiled sweetly. “You should know I don’t strain easily.” He moved forward, and she managed to block two of his punches, but missed the last one and it sent her stumbling to the side. She brought one leg up, but he ducked, grabbed her by the waist and the ankle, which was still hovering mid-air, spun her around and slammed her against the wall he had beautified a minute earlier. In the next instant he pressed himself against her and she drew a breath as he pinned her arms above her head, the tip of his nose touching hers. She smiled again. “New moves,” she mumbled. “Watch this.” She jumped up, bringing her knees between them and making him take an involuntary step backwards right before she unfolded her legs, her feet against his chest, and then she pushed away from the wall, making him lose his balance completely while she flew through the air, doing a somersault and landing gracefully with either foot on either side of him. Leaning down and splaying one hand on his chest she cocked an eyebrow. “Impressed?” “Impressed,” he confirmed. Before she could react he grabbed the wrist of the hand on his chest, moving her arm to the side while he sat up, putting his other hand by the side of her neck and pushing her to fall to the side, pinning her down with an arm placed across her throat while he situated himself between her legs. She tried to get loose, but the pressure across her throat grew slightly heavier and she stopped moving, having to smile in spite of her position. “Is this how we fought?” “In my head it was,” he smirked. She wrapped her legs around him and braced herself before mustering all her strength. The following moment they rolled over so he was on his back and she straddled him, having him bring his arms over his head as she linked their fingers together. “And now what’s in your head?” she asked. He sat up, his lips brushing hers just as the door opened to their left. “What’s going on down here?!” Angel asked as he came down the stairs. The Slayer had already risen; the Vamp not far behind. “Sparring,” they replied at the same time. “Sounds like you’re rearranging the foundation,” he said, looking from one to the other. “Isabel wanted to take a walk. She wondered if you felt like coming.” “It’s raining,” Spike said. “Yes,” Angel muttered, but added: “One of England’s charms. Haven’t you read Henry James?” Spike raised his eyebrows. “I’ll come,” Buffy said. “And if we ask nicely, I’m sure Spike will too.” “You do it,” Angel said. “He never listens to me.” “That’s not true,” Spike protested. “Remember that time...” “I remember that time, and you wouldn’t have listened to me that time if you hadn’t been hanging over the edge of a cliff,” Angel interrupted. With that he walked back up the stairs. Buffy smiled, and with a look at Spike she followed. ¤ “Explain this to me,” Angel said twenty minutes later as they slowly walked down the soaked dirt road toward the peaceful town which lay closest to Giles’ house. The rain pattered lazily on the umbrellas they had brought, and the night was dark and cold. But the air was refreshing and there was no regret that they had chosen to head out. “Explain what?” she asked. “You go... six years not talking to each other, and the first thing you choose to do is hit and kick?” She smirked. “We have a complicated relationship,” she answered. “Always did. Probably always will. Like you and me.” He smiled at that. “It’s not so complicated,” he said. “I guess not,” she complied, looking at Spike’s back where he was walking, a little ahead of them, with Isabel. “Seriously now,” Angel said and she met his gaze. “Where should we pick up from, if not from where we left off?” He smiled his agreement to that comment. ¤ “Can I come to your room later? I wanna come to your room, can I?” Spike whispered. She smiled, glancing at him as he walked close behind her into the living room. She was carrying a tray with cheese and crackers and placed it on the table before the gathered friends. “Au bientot,” she said. “Bon appétit,” Willow corrected helpfully. “Oh. What’d I say?” “See you later,” Angel replied in Willow’s stead and Buffy raised her eyebrows, then sunk down on the couch in defeat. “I give up.” “You gave up on French in high school, Buffy,” Willow remarked. “Hey,” she said. “I tried.” “Yes, you did,” Willow agreed. “You know what I wish I wouldn’t have had to give up?” “What?” “My poetry class. Remember the Victorian poetry we used to read?” “Oh, yeah. I remember.” “As luck will have it, though...” Buffy smiled, turning her head to Spike, who swallowed the tea he was drinking and raised his eyebrows. “Come on; give us a little sample of young William’s artistic endeavors.” “Yes, please, do!” Isabel smiled. “No bloody way.” “Go on,” Giles encouraged. “Pleeease,” Buffy begged, giving her his most wide-eyed puppy impression. He hesitated. “Alright, alright,” he finally relented, getting to his feet and standing in front of the fireplace, looking from one to the other before clearing his throat. “Here goes. The day is rainy, so is the night,” he began, good-natured laugh breaking from the gathered. “The alarm clock this morning sure gave me a fright. Because I don’t have one,” he added the last matter-of-factly and more laughs were heard. “You search in the darkness; you search in the light... for something that changes the wrong into right...” His gaze fastened in Buffy’s and she felt her heart beat slow peculiarly in her chest as he grew quiet. The moment stretched, and then he blinked, shaking himself out of wherever his mind had drifted. “And so, in the wake of a hard days fight,” he said, slowly beginning to approach her and she noticed the mischievous glint in his blue eyes as he stopped before her, going down on one knee he then brought one of her hands to his lips as he said: “you turn to the things of the most obvious delight.” Placing a kiss on the back of her fingers he let her hand go and rose. She didn’t want to smile too wide, but, though her eyes were reproachful, they glittered with humor and he mirrored her expression. “That has to be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said as he sat down. “What did you expect?! That a hundred years would’ve improved my technique?” he asked and she had an overwhelming sensation of his hands exploring her with a knowledge that surely was paranormal. “Something like it,” she merely replied to his query, and he smirked. Her smile broadened at the sight of it, and she took her eyes out of his. ¤ “Well, I’m going beddy-by,” Willow stated an hour later. “I second that,” Buffy yawned, rising and stretching, looking around at the others she caught Spike’s gaze for a moment before casually asking the room: “You coming?” “Right behind you,” Isabel assured. Spike smiled a little, his nod being something she was sure only she could have possibly detected. Giles began to blow out the candles which had been lit around the room, while Buffy helped Willow reload the tray, the Wicca assuring her she would take care of the dishes in the morning. Buffy smiled her thanks and headed for the door just as she heard Angel say: “Spike, we need to discuss the trip to the Philippines.” “Now?” Spike asked. “Yes, right now. What, you’ve got something better to do?” Spike cocked an eyebrow, his gaze going to Buffy as Angel began to search through the notes he had gotten from its current residence on the room’s large desk. She smiled, raising her shoulders in a shrug and he looked regretful, but then returned the smile. She came back into the room, kissing Angel on the cheek. “Good night,” she said. “Night,” he agreed distractedly. She placed a hand on Spike’s arm as she walked passed him. “Good night,” she repeated. “Good night,” he muttered. ¤ “I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Willow said as she watched Angel load their suitcases into Giles’ car the next evening. “Feels like you just got here.” “We did,” Isabel replied with a friendly glare at her husband. “You know how it is, evil doesn’t sleep and the good-doers of the world have to strap on the gear of ass-kicking.” Willow smiled, hugging her. “Yes, Los Angeles needs you,” she agreed, Isabel laughing. “We’ll see each other soon,” Spike said and Willow observed him for a moment, another smile forming on her mouth before she hugged him as well. “I’m sure we will,” she agreed. Buffy watched the scene from the open front door; then walked forward, joining them outside the gate of Giles’ garden. She hugged Angel and Isabel, feeling weird about how weird she felt about them leaving. About Spike leaving. For the first time there was a pang there, a subtle objection at the thought of not seeing him as easily as she had for the past two days. And the fact that she had barely even kissed him all weekend, except for that one time, was a gnawing irritation in the middle of her throat. She supposed that was where the objection stemmed from. “Got everything?” she asked, turning to him. “Yeah,” he nodded, his face suddenly growing thoughtful. “No,” he said. “I think I forgot the charger for my cell. Be right back.” “I think it’s in the den!” Buffy called after him. “No, I had it in my room!” he called back, disappearing inside just as Giles exited. “I know I saw it in the den,” Buffy addressed the small group, smiling and shaking her head as she walked in the footsteps of the vampire. She entered the house, proceeding to the stairs just as a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her with its owner through the archway of the den. She wrapped her arms around his neck and met the deepening kiss as he held her to him. She smiled, pulling back and looking at him. Then she giggled. “I love how your mind works,” she mumbled and he smiled before joining their lips again. “Spike?” Isabel called, obviously from the front door, and Buffy met Spike’s gaze once more. “I found it!” he answered, kissing Buffy briefly before stepping back. “Good. Let’s go!” “Coming,” he said, eyes not leaving Buffy’s and she smiled once again as he stepped into her for a second time, the kiss feverish with the goodbye they had yet to say. She smiled widely as he kissed her once more, quickly, before walking out of the den. She leaned back against the bookcase behind her. When she heard the car doors slam shut she got herself moving to the front door, where Willow came to meet her. The car pulled away from the gate and soon it was out of sight. “You okay?” Willow asked. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Buffy asked back. “You’re face is all scrunched up.” “It’s not scrunched up,” Buffy murmured, turning from her and walking inside.

Chapter #4 - March

A/N: Huge thank you to all who have reviewed. You guys totally make my day! Very pleased you like it so far and hope you'll enjoy these coming three chappies. All My Love - Annie. ¤ March ¤ “Angel Investigations.” “Hi.” “Buffy!” “Isabel!” Buffy smiled. “Is Angel there?” “He is. Hang on.” “Buffy?” “Hey.” “Hey. Everything alright?” “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just wanted to call and say it was good seeing you.” “It was great. Just wish we could’ve stayed longer.” “Ah, what’re you gonna do?” “Yeah.” “What brought you back? Any major investigation I should know about?” “We had one; we had to go to New York for it...” “In January.” “Yeah... How’d you know?” “Oh, just thought I’d heard something about it.” She sent out a silent plea for him not to get into prodding mode, and he seemed to have heard it as he continued: “We closed it a week ago. Spike’s in Paris, settling the last details, but once that’s done it’ll be quiet around here for a while. I think.” She smiled. “That’s nice. I bet you and Isabel could use some time to yourselves, huh? Good thing Spike’s out of the country.” Angel laughed. “Only for so long. He’ll be back next Tuesday and then I’m sure he’ll scare up a case from somewhere, he doesn’t like being idle.” “Spike? Not liking being idle? I think I just saw a pig fly by.” Angel laughed again. ¤ “Giles?” “Hmh?” He didn’t take his eyes out of the paper, sipping his tea and raising an eyebrow gingerly as response to the sound of his name. Buffy shifted a little in her seat. “I think I should go to Paris.” “Hmh.” “Well, not should, but I want to. I haven’t seen Dawn in ages and I, you know, haven’t been to Paris in a while, might be nice.” “Mh-hmh.” “So it’s settled then?” “Mh.” She smiled; standing and giving him a peck on top of his head before heading for the guestroom she was using. ¤ “You should have seen her!” Dawn laughed. “God, she was such a spaz.” “Thank you for the label!” “A super-hero sort of spaz,” Dawn smiled and Buffy returned it. “I can live with that.” She looked around the beautiful apartment; decorated with worn antique furniture and heavy rugs it breathed homeliness. “I can’t believe what you’ve done with this place,” Buffy said, looking at Dawn. “Mikah, the fact that you’ve let her do all the choosing proves what a great man you truly are,” she added and Mikah smirked, tenderly pulling a hand through Dawn’s hair. “What she wants, she gets. Her smiling makes me smile,” he said and Dawn made an aw-face before kissing him softly. Buffy stared at them, wondering what mystical force had brought them that close to one another, the last time she had met them they had just started dating and had been slightly self-conscious around the other. “I’m exhausted,” she now said, rising. “Thank you for dinner. And for having me, I know it was short notice.” “Come on! You know the door’s always open,” Dawn stated; standing as well, to give her sister a hug. “I’m glad you’re here.” “Me too,” Buffy smiled. “Night, Mikah.” “Sleep tight. And no bed bugs, no? They are there I will be there with the spray.” ¤ Buffy held the phone tightly, her heart hammering in her chest despite her best efforts to calm it. The loud sound of the ringing tone hit her eardrum. “What am I doing?” she murmured, and then someone picked up and she smiled. “Yes, hello,” she said. “I’m looking for a William Kingsley, could you tell me if he has checked in yet? No. Do you have anyone by the name of Kingsley? No. Mercy bocou.” Cringing at her French she hung up, swallowing and shaking her head at herself as she looked at the next number on her list. “This is ridiculous. Just call Angel,” she muttered. But she didn’t want to deal with the questions that action would surely arouse, and so she grabbed the receiver again, dialing purposefully. ¤ She paused outside the entrance to the hotel, which was hosted in a striking eighteenth century building. She caught her reflection in a window and made sure it was still flawless. It had only taken two more calls to hit the jackpot, only she hadn’t counted on her nerves being so tingly. Having to wait for sunset had done nothing to calm them, and she was bursting with the anticipation of seeing him. She couldn’t be bursting. She needed to be very normal and breathlessly taken aback at the unsuspected sight of him – not simply breathless. She squared her shoulders and proceeded with an air of oblivion, walking into the lobby with her eyes on her watch. Finding her way to the hotel restaurant she stopped and waited for the hostess. Looking around she wore the appearance of having made an appointment, but not seeing the face she was searching for it dissipated. She turned and walked into the lobby again. “Buffy?” She halted, her mouth growing dry as her eyes landed in his. He was in a suit. A charcoal suit and white shirt and blue tie which was slightly loosened and all of it completely threw her. He looked better than she would’ve imagined him looking, if she ever had imagined him in a suit, which she never had because the probability of him ever wearing one had seemed so slim. But there he was. In all his glory. “Spike!” she said, surprised at how quickly she managed to pull herself together. “What are you doing here?” “I’m here on business, what’re you doing here?” “Well, I had a date.” Dirty, rotten lie. “But he’s not here...” They had approached each other and now stopped in front of the other, Spike frowning slightly quizzically. “You came to Paris for a date?” “No,” she smiled. “I’m here to see Dawn. But I met this guy today and...” She sighed, looking around. He smiled, studying her before he remarked: “Thought you said you had no patience for dating.” She felt herself flush and thanked God for good foundation. “I don’t, but if you just happen to run into someone...” His smile widened. “Yeah, how about that? I keep running into you.” She smiled as well. “How about that?” “You’re stunning,” he said. And then they kissed, in a way she wasn’t sure they ever had before, in the middle of a beautiful lobby in a beautiful hotel in a beautiful, beautiful city. ¤ His lips moved over her shoulders, delicately touching her skin, sliding down along her spine. ¤ She woke with the drawing of a breath, opening her eyes. For a second she was sure that she had seen him just close his, but she shook it off. Lying still for a moment she looked at him. Then moved close, nudging her nose against his cheek before letting her mouth travel to his. He made a muffled sound as her tongue parted his lips, and then she felt him smiling as he returned the kiss. ¤ “Shoot!” she exclaimed. “Is that the actual time?!” She squinted at the clock placed above the fireplace facing the bed. Full of disbelief she detangled herself from the sheet and jumped to the floor, grabbing her pocket book and fishing her cell-phone out. “Battery’s dead,” she said. “Damn. I’m sure Dawn’s called me twenty times. We were supposed to go shopping and why am I telling you, I’m sure you don’t care.” He smiled, moving to lie on his stomach as she began to dress hurriedly. “Can I use the phone?” “Be my guest.” She walked up to the desk and brought the receiver to her ear, hitting zero, telling the operator which number she wanted and listening to the ringing with growing malice toward the machine. “Dawn,” she then said, relief filling her. “I know, I’m really sorry. The battery died. I know, I know. Look, I’m sorry, okay. I ran into someone and got held up. Yes... we were talking and the time just sort of... I’m at a hotel, anyways. Well, no, not entirely alone, but it honestly isn’t how it sounds. I don’t wanna do it over the phone, Dawn. And I know, but the shops are open tomorrow, too, right? We’ll do it then, I swear. Okay? Okay. I’ll be home in time for dinner. You can do without me, can’t you?” She smiled. “Alright. Love you. Bye.” She hung up, turning to the vampire still on the bed. “Home in time for dinner?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “What time’s that, then? ‘Cause it’s not even lunch yet and if you’re not bloody careful I’ll get the impression you wanna stay.” She smiled, pulling her sweater off as she walked up to the bed, tossing it aside before falling straight into his waiting arms. ¤ “What’s this?” She lifted the silver cup which covered the plates containing their lunch and could do nothing but stare at what they contained. “Escargot,” he replied. “Snails?! You ordered snails?” she asked. He smiled. “Try one,” he encouraged. She made a face, but did as he asked, using the cutlery as he showed her and managing to get one out of its shell. “They could at least pry the little suckers out of there,” she muttered, holding the fork up, but choosing not to study it before she put it in her mouth. He had a few fingers covering his lips and she could tell he was trying not to smile too widely. She began chewing with deliberate slowness. “A bit rubber like,” she said, her jaws still processing. “A little too salty for my taste. Kind of slimy. Might need a few more minutes on the stove. Feels like it’s oozing something. Other than that,” she finished, putting her fork down, “quite tasty.” At that he started laughing and she smiled as she swallowed the snail down, reaching for a glass of water. He lifted a cup from one of the other plates, showing a pile of thin pancakes. She met his gaze with all her appreciation apparent. He was still chuckling as she dug in. ¤ She kissed him softly, wanting to drag it out as everything in her told her to stay with him. “It’s been a good day,” she mumbled and he smiled his agreement. She kissed him again, and then walked through the already opened door of the room. He poked his head out through the doorway. She smiled at him as she pushed the button for the elevator. He returned it, then moved inside and out of sight, the door closing with a low click.

Chapter #5 - April

¤ April ¤ “Hello,” she answered the phone. “Hi.” She had an instant smile on her face, sitting down on the bed in the room she had once more claimed at Giles’ house. “Hi,” she said. “How are you? I called two days ago...” “Angel told me. Sorry I missed you.” “It’s okay.” “I just wanted to call back, incase there was anything... I mean, any reason for you calling.” “No,” she shook her head. “No reason.” She didn’t know what to say and she felt like an idiot. “How’s everything?” she tried, thinking it too commonplace a thing to ask, but now it was said. “Good. Everything’s good.” “I’m going to Vienna. First week in May.” “For the Gemini seminar?” “You’ve heard about it?” “Angel’s going.” “I know.” “’Course you do. He didn’t tell me you were, though.” “Did you ask?” “No.” She smiled again. “Helps to ask,” she minded. “But you’re not coming?” “We’ve had some trouble with our sources getting their heads chopped off for the past few months. Someone needs to stay behind, make sure the looking-into-it department uses their extra large eye.” “Oh.” “Is that disappointment I hear?” Her smile was reborn, in the Broadway version. “Maybe a little.” “We’ll have to have another haphazard, completely unplanned run-in soon, then.” She giggled. “You’re stupid, you know that.” “Only when you so graciously point it out to me,” he replied, humor in his voice. “Oh. Gotta go. Duty calls.” “Take care.” “You too.” ¤ “Did you pack your dress?” “You may think I’ve gotten kicked in the head one too many times,” Buffy said as Willow stopped by her side, “but I’ve still got enough brain cells left to not go to a wedding without a dress to wear.” “I just meant that it’s a long way back incase you forget it,” Willow smiled. “You look very pretty,” she added and Buffy returned her smile, then did a double-take, frowning. “What?” she asked at Willow’s expression. “Did you use that expensive shampoo?” Buffy’s frown deepened. “The one I gave you last Christma-...” Willow tried to elaborate. “I know which one you mean,” Buffy snapped, closing her suitcase. “And yes, I took a shower. I refuse to sit on an airplane for seven hours and not at least feel good about myself during the first part of it.” Willow eyed her. “And you’re wearing that perfume,” she noted. “And your nice-pants.” “There’s nothing ‘that’ about my perfume and there’s nothing special about these pants. Why don’t you just say what you’re thinking?” Willow raised her eyebrows and Buffy brought her suitcase off the bed, pulling the handle out and walking to the door. “He won’t be there,” Willow said, and Buffy paused long enough to confirm what Willow so easily had deduced from her spruced up appearance. “You think Angel would bring him to Xander’s wedding? You think Spike would come?” “He came to the last one.” “Yeah, would you want him to do it in the same fashion this time?” Buffy grew quiet at that. “And Xander doesn’t want him there,” Willow added. “But he’s not the same as he was. They should bury the hatchet. There shouldn’t even be a hatchet to bury. The hatchet is underneath ten thousand tons of rock and dirt in another part of the world. They can’t see the hatchet!” “Buffy.” She sighed. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “But I really don’t see why they couldn’t just get along.” “You mean why they can’t get along so you can get it on with the bleached blonde vampire,” Willow corrected, looking innocent at Buffy’s glare. “What? If you’re not gonna be honest about it, you need someone to speak the truth.” “Oh, do shut up,” Buffy grumbled, walking on ahead. ¤ “Xander,” Buffy smiled, her hands on his chest as she took a good look at him. “No, nothing’s different.” He smiled back, embracing her. “But now he’s all growed up,” Dawn teased, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Yeah, can you believe that he went through with it,” Jackie smiled, coming up to join them. “Please, stop,” Xander muttered, Buffy smirking. “Getting old?” “Getting annoying.” “We’ll stop,” Willow promised and he looked at her with a gaze warming considerably before hugging her tight for the third time. “Hey, don’t, or I know you’ll start crying like a little baby.” “That’s true,” Xander nodded with a bashful look at his wife, who merely patted his arm gently. “Oh,” she then said, placing a hand on her ever protruding belly. “I think we’ve got another slayer on our hands. You should feel how she kicks.” She stated the last with a look at Buffy. “He,” Xander said. “Ever heard of a male slayer?” Jackie wondered. “He won’t be a slayer,” Xander said with a reproachful expression. “He’ll be a soccer player,” he then proclaimed, already full of pride. “Maybe he’ll be a Watcher,” Giles said, stopping by them, a glass of champagne in one hand. “We have to be able to kick, in case you never noticed.” Buffy smiled, sliding one arm to hook it with his and he met her gaze, returning her smile. “I noticed,” she said. Isabel walked across the lawn, taking Jackie’s hand and kissing her cheek before hugging Xander. “Beautiful ceremony,” she complimented. “And this place is amazing.” “Thank you,” Jackie smiled. “My parents found it for us.” The garden truly was amazing, and decorated with ivory white which was reflected in everything, from the ribbons to the candles, it gave the impression of wanting to set a fresh start for the happy couple. “Angel was very sorry that he couldn’t come,” Isabel apologized. “He had to go on a last minute trip. He sends his love. And Spike told me to give you all his best.” Buffy tried not to be too obvious in how she immediately was studying Xander for his reaction, and she thought she did a good job, keeping her smile on and merely cocking an eyebrow slightly. “Tell them we regret they couldn’t come,” Jackie said. “They?” Buffy asked before she could stop herself, her smile widening as everybody turned their heads to her. “Well, I just didn’t know that you’d want Spike to come. Xander?” “I didn’t,” he said. “But I did,” Jackie stated. “We can’t invite Angel and not invite him. It’d be rude.” “And I’ve told you Spike wouldn’t have come if we’d paid him,” Xander shot. He blinked, then corrected himself with: “Actually, I think that’s the only way he would’ve.” “I think you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buffy said, wondering what was up with her mouth and the constant opening of it. Xander met her gaze questioningly. “He’s not like that,” she added, feeling suddenly indignant. “Not anymore.” She glanced at the people in their little circle, then broke away from it with a silent: “Excuse me.” “She’s right,” she heard Isabel agree, but she didn’t stop to hear the response. She walked through the party tent and out the opening on its other side, proceeding between the trees beyond it, which clustered protectively together before they allowed her the view she had desired – of a stretching slope, and a sun setting slowly behind the far away trees lining the horizon. She walked a little farther, until the sounds of mingling guests and the music setting their soundtrack faded, and then she collected her dress beneath her as she sat down. What am I doing? she wondered, a wave of frustration rising just as her cell-phone rang in the small pocketbook she carried. She brought it out. “Yeah?” she asked impatiently. “Let me guess what you’re doing,” Spike’s voice was carried through the ether, through spaces unknown and straight into her, where it reverberated in exquisite slowness. Only then did she actually realize how much she had hoped against hope to see him there. Her hold on the phone tightened. “What am I doing?” she mumbled. “You’re dancing with a striking young fellow, while drinking whatever fruity drink is served, barefooted, and having a piece of wedding cake in one hand. Whipped cream.” He sighed. “I wish I was there.” She smiled a little. “There are no striking young fellows here,” she said. “And there’s only champagne, and,” she took off her shoes, “uncomfortably high heels and the cake hasn’t showed itself yet, but I bet you there’s no whipped cream.” “Alright, I take it back. I’m fine where I am.” “So you’d only come here for the whipped cream?” He was silent for a while, a new smile spreading on her face. “No,” he said, and she could hear he was smiling too. “You sound bored.” “I’m not bored,” she said. “I’m... alone, and I don’t like it.” “What? Xander’s not trying to fix you up?” “People change,” she said. “I’ll try it then.” “Try what?” “Fix you up. Where are you? Near any striking older fellows?” “You’re going to fix me up over the phone?” “Tell me what they look like and I’ll tell you what to say.” “That’s very icky of you, and if I wanted to I could do it perfectly by myself, and the only striking older fellows coming to this shindig failed to show.” “Buffy, you shouldn’t be alone.” “So why aren’t you here?” she whined. “Well... I’m working,” he replied, and she could tell he was smiling again. “Play hookie. You close by?” “The Alps.” “Great,” she muttered. “And the grass is itchy.” “Grass?” She looked at the darkening sky above her head. “I’m on a slope.” “You’re on a slope,” he repeated, incredulous. “I’m lying on a slope. And you were right, I’m barefooted. Though I wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t mentioned it, so I guess it doesn’t count.” “You’re lying on a slope? Away from the party, too, no doubt. No wonder you’re bloody alone, Slayer. Get up.” “Why?” “Because it’s Xander’s wedding.” The soberness in that statement got to her where it aimed to and she sat up. “God, you’re right,” she said, standing and grabbing the shoes in one hand before heading back to the party. “You have a good time now, you hear?” She smiled. “I hear,” she said. “Take care, pet.” “You too.” She closed the phone and barely registered that she was still smiling as she reentered the tent. She walked up to Willow who handed her a glass of champagne. “Where’d you disappear to?” she asked. “Secret rendez vous in the bushes?” “No,” Buffy said. Willow smirked. “You talked to him, didn’t you?” “What?” “Ah, don’t start denying it,” Willow merely answered. ¤ A few days later they had left America for England. Being back in Giles’ house was comforting, somehow. A place where she knew all the nooks and crannies. “You seem jollier as of late,” Giles said, making Buffy meet his gaze where they sat in front of a crackling fire. “Is the cause anything in particular?” She shrugged, smiling and avoiding having to answer. “It’s good seeing you smile with your whole face,” he stated. “It stopped reaching your eyes for a while.” “Guess I was working too much.” “Perhaps,” he nodded, then got to his feet, grabbing one of the various books standing on the mantelpiece. “Good night,” he said, heading out of the room. She watched him leave. “Don’t say it,” she then murmured and Willow’s eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t even thinking it,” she assured.

Chapter #6 - May

¤ May ¤ Vienna could have been any other city in the world the moment she saw him on the other side of the hotel lobby. She honestly couldn’t have cared less about where she was. She had just gotten the key to her room. People were everywhere, and yet there he was, clear as day, his eyes holding hers as she began to walk towards him. She stopped in front of him, a small smile on. “I hoped I’d see you,” she said. “Where’s Angel?” “In Los Angeles.” She furrowed her brow. “I’m here in his stead.” She smiled warmly at that. “I’m glad.” And she was. She hadn’t thought she’d be this happy to see him, but it was quickly spreading its warmth through her entire body. Like she was waking out of a dream. Like this was the only thing that was really real. Standing in front of him with the promise of being a part of him. ¤ She kissed her way down his chest, over his stomach; taking him in her mouth and enjoying the response she got from him. Her tongue knew just what pressure to use, what parts of skin not to miss, what would drive him out of his head and make him come as close to begging her for anything as he ever could. ¤ “To me it feels like he’s preaching,” Buffy said. It was the following night; they had just finished the first session of the seminar. Spring was in the air and the city was in a vivacious flurry which only settled at this late hour. It was closing in on four a.m. but after having spent all day in bed – mostly sleeping – neither Slayer nor Vamp was ready to return to the hotel. “He is preaching, that’s the point. The Neglars have always thought the way to turn others to their way of thinking is by linking as many bleeding fear-provoking words together as possible. Then they throw the snare out and... hope that it strangles a few people into agreeing with them.” “But it’s so wrong. And it’s bad politics.” “The Neglars don’t have politics. They have a mission.” “But they shouldn’t be allowed to speak for that mission, when it sounds like what they want is a dictatorship.” “I agree.” “And did you see how smug their general looked? I wanted to smack him.” Spike smirked. “The seminar was started to form alliances, create understanding.” “I know, but how understanding can you be when they’re standing there practically yelling that the ‘human race is superfluous’. You don’t think they pose a real threat, do you?” “No,” he said. “They’re all balls, no brains.” “That paints a disturbing picture.” “Besides, their numbers are too small. The human race is safe.” “The human race is never safe,” she disagreed, meeting his gaze. “Speaking of – you hungry? Wanna grab a quick bite?” She smiled. “I’m good.” ¤ She was on her back, her eyes were closed, and the sensation of the chilly ice cream he was slowly dribbling on her burning skin made goose bumps spread all over her. The treat started its trail at her left foot, continuing up her leg, across her stomach, circling her right breast and ending at the base of her throat. When his tongue began lapping it up, she was already moaning. ¤ “But that’s ridiculous,” she exclaimed the next evening as they walked to the large building hosting the seminar. “That’s the way it is,” he shrugged. “But they can’t do that.” “They already have.” “And what do you say to it?” “I never had an official partnership with him; I don’t have much to say to it.” “Spike!” “Buffy, it’s what they want to do. Christ, in a way they’re still newlyweds, they haven’t had time to go on their honeymoon! Selling the firm makes sense.” “But you guys are what kept it from being ruined! By bureaucrats and corruption and you know they won’t take those innocent cases that have no money to bring in!” “We’re selling to one of the Slayer branches, it’ll be fine.” “Are you staying?” “No.” She stared at him, then looked straight ahead, being overcome by an inexplicable irritation with him. She felt his eyes on her, but ignored them. She didn’t want to fight with him and still she felt the need to yell at him practically overwhelm her. “What?” he finally asked. “You’ve worked with Angel for six years! You’re just gonna let him decide?” “It’s his choice! I don’t own the firm!” he exclaimed. “Have you talked to him about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about.” “You don’t want to work there?” “It doesn’t matter!” “Yes, it does!” “Why?!” “Because if it’s important to you...” “Listen to me,” he said, making her face him. “I’m okay with it. Now leave it the sod alone!” “You’re not okay with it. I can tell you’re not okay with it.” “I’m fine with it!” “No, you’re not!” “So what the hell do you want me to say?! That, yeah, it’s bloody tough losing the place you call home? That your family’s splitting up? It doesn’t matter, Buffy. I’ve been there before. I got over it! I’ll get over this.” She stared at him, taken aback by what she had thought she saw, proving so true. “But you’re not okay with it.” “Maybe not.” “And you don’t seem to be all that fine with it either.” “Buffy.” “Have you told Angel?” “What?” “That he’s family.” He glared at her and she smiled a little. ¤ She removed his shirt, her hands running over his muscular arms, torso, back, before her lips connected with his neck. Her fingers slid through his hair, her mouth meeting his. She unbuttoned his pants, got rid of them. Made him lie down. He looked at her, unmasked need in his gaze. She crawled slowly up to join her lips with his again. ¤ An hour later she rolled off him, but his left arm was underneath her and it promptly pushed her to him again. She smiled, resting her head on his chest. “What time is it?” “There’s still time,” he mumbled. She grabbed her cell and checked. “And I have to pack,” she sighed. “Just five more hours,” he pleaded, and she giggled when he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her up so he could get to kissing her deeply. “I’m tired,” she whined. “I’ll find some way of keeping you up.” “Seminaring’s exhausting.” “The seminar’s over,” he smirked. “I’m sweaty,” she pouted. “And I like you that way,” he assured, his tongue preceding the kiss he placed on her shoulder. She bit her lower lip as the ache in her groin started up again. “But I feel...” She trailed off as his fingers began to massage one breast, shivers running their delicious route through her. “Yes?” he said. “How do you feel?” She smiled; putting her hands on either side of his face she rested her eyes in his. “Come here,” she mumbled. ¤ “You done?” She turned her head toward the doorway in which he stood, meeting his gaze fleetingly before walking up to her bag. “Done,” she said, zipping it shut. She grabbed it and her pocketbook, walking up to him and passed him. He followed. “When’s your flight?” she asked. “Nine-thirty,” he answered. “Then why are you up?” “Because I want to be.” “Spike,” she said, stopping by the elevator and pushing the button. She pushed it again as it wouldn’t light up. Looking above the doors she could see that neither elevator was moving. She gave it up and headed for the staircase. “You don’t have to be all noble and keep me company. A cab’s waiting,” she said as he walked beside her, beginning to descend the stairs as she did. “Noble?” “Go. Sleep. Wake when the sun isn’t trying to kill you.” “Technically that’ll never happen.” She gave him a look. “Fine,” he shrugged, stopping while she kept walking. “Have a nice flight.” “Thanks,” she said. He was leaned against the wall when she, less than thirty seconds later, came back up. “Where’s your bag?” “Fourth step, fifth floor,” she answered before linking her arms around his neck and kissing him almost cautiously. “I’ll see you,” she murmured, swirling around and nearly running back down the stairs. The objection was loudening, carrying the growing incentive to stay.

Chapter #7 - June

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for all the reviews! You make me such a happy woman, I can't even describe it! I luuuurve reading what you think, that's the best thing in the whole wide world. Yes, yes, apart from a chocolate covered Spike just waiting to be licked. Wow, I'm in kind of a kinky state tonight, perhaps I should sit down and write. ;) Alright, I'm more than loving the fact that you all seem to be liking the story and, well, here's som more of it. Thirteen chapters all in all (redwulf, so you know). ;) Thanks again! All My Love - Annie. ¤ June ¤ Her eyes were fastened on the phone. “That’s not going to make it ring,” Dawn said. “I speak from personal experience.” Buffy smiled weakly. “I’ll take my chances,” she said. “He said he’d call, he’ll call. Spike’s good that way, never says anything he doesn’t mean, you know?” Buffy ignored her. She loved her baby sister, but this whole I-know-him-better-than-you gig was getting old. “Did you hear what name they finally decided on?” Dawn asked, taking a mouthful of water from a bottle as she waited for Buffy’s reply. “Hmh?” she merely said. “Xander and Jackie. The name they chose for their darling baby?” “Um. Yeah.” Dawn raised her eyebrows. “Really?” she asked skeptically. “Then what was it?” “Dawn.” “Jessica,” Dawn shook her head. “What’s wrong with Jessica?” “Nothing, it’s a perfectly nice name. But I was thinking they might go with something a bit more... razzle dazzle.” “Maybe they’re not trying to razzle dazzle her,” Buffy smirked. “Cute,” Dawn muttered. “Jessica.” “Jessie,” Buffy shrugged. “It’s pretty.” “Yeah. Alright, I’m leaving,” Dawn said. “I’ll be back around eight. You should get out. Enjoy Paris. You haven’t even seen the Mona Lisa yet! For an old lady she’s a lot more interesting than that,” she added with a nod to the phone before heading out the door. Buffy rolled her eyes. A shrill ring went straight through her the very moment after the front door had closed and she grabbed the receiver. “Hi?” “Hi,” Spike said and she felt something tight loosen inside her. “We have to stop meeting this way,” she smiled. “Yes, there are too many better ways,” he agreed. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” She closed her eyes, her heart beat elevating curiously. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” she mumbled. “When can I see you?” “I’m at Dawn’s.” “I figured.” She smiled. “Right. You don’t have any errand to run by the Eiffel tower?” “All out of those,” he replied. “You don’t have any near the Golden Gate Bridge?” “San Francisco?” “I’m going there next weekend.” “Why?” “A nest of Jehs.” “Need backup?” “Wouldn’t hurt.” “You sure?” “Guess that depends entirely on what bloody mood you’re in.” ¤ “Buffy!” Spike yelled; throwing her a sword before ducking to escape the axe swung at his head. She caught the sword, twirled around and chopped the charging demon in two. It turned into wet goo and she made a face before looking at her weapon, which was very slimy. “Gross.” Spike hit the demon he was fighting in the stomach, and then on the chin, before placing a well-aimed kick to the hand holding the axe, making the heavy weapon fly up in the air. He caught it, swung it down hard and made his antagonist go goo as well. He let the axe drop to the floor, facing Buffy, who put her sword down on a table standing near by. They were in a dusty and dark old apartment, place of the now terminated nest. She began walking toward him, every step gaining in purpose until she was pressed against him, her fingers gripping the lapels of his duster as his hands grabbed her ass and spun her around, pushing her up against a conveniently located wall. “You were always so good at reading my mood,” she murmured, her tongue slipping into his mouth and he groaned, kissing her back feverishly. “Let’s make another building fall down,” she said and he smirked, meeting her eyes before joining their lips again. ¤ “Hmh.” “What?” “Nothing,” she said. “Just...it’s still all... standing.” “I fell,” he mumbled, burying his nose against the side of her throat. “If it helps.” Her hand stroked his cheek, a smile on her mouth. “It does,” she admonished. “You know, lying on a floor with you sure brings me back.” He laughed. “We have a warm hotel room waiting.” “When do you have to be back in Los Angeles?” “Tomorrow evening.” “Tomorrow?” He brought his head up to look at her. “This trip is just a favor.” “To me?” she smirked. “You’re good, mister, but you’re not that good.” “Careful,” he warned, but smiled as well. “A favor for a friend,” he clarified. “This nest has caused him all kinds of sodding problems, so I said I’d clear it out.” “There you go being all noble again.” “Soul side-effect,” he said, making her smile once more. “I like the side-effects.” “You do, eh?” he asked, pushing himself up, kissing her gently. “I do,” she said, meeting the second kiss he granted her. “And the old parts.” “Old?” She smiled as he slowly entered her, her fingers grabbing his shoulders tightly. “You know what I mean,” she breathed. ¤ “Stay one more night,” she said. They had gotten themselves presentable and to Spike’s hotel room, where they had spent the past six hours in a state of undressed bliss. “And what do I tell Angel?” Spike asked. She smiled. “Are we going to define this now?” He smirked. “A torrid, world-wide affair.” She giggled. “Torrid it is.” He smiled, meeting her gaze as she propped her head up in one hand. “Why shouldn’t we tell them?” she wondered. “Them?” “Everybody.” He stared at her. “What?” “Seriously? What the bloody hell would we tell them?” She laughed at his expression and soon he had to join in. “I’m sorry,” she said, unable to stop. “You’re just so cute when you’re shocked.” He smirked. “I’ll show you cute,” he murmured, rolling her over on her back and fitting himself between her legs, burying his hands in her soft locks before kissing her deeply. She eased her eyes open after he had pulled back, looking at him for a long time in silence. “Stay one more night,” she said. “One more night,” he consented. ¤ It had turned into two. She stared at her reflection in the mirror before her. It hung next to the window in the guestroom she used at Giles’ house. She had left San Francisco four days ago and was back in England for a few weeks, wanting it to be longer, but one of the slayer branches in Chile wished her to come and visit. She had always wanted to go to Chile. She leaned forward. Her reflection did the same. She had spent over half an hour in front of it, wondering in the back of her head if she was actually about to crack. Have a meltdown. She had been trying to make sense of what was going on inside her. She missed him. In a churning, sickening way. It was longing mixed with lust mixed with a craving to be close to him, to know him. To know him. This can’t be right, she thought to herself. I can’t still be in love with him. She met her own eyes and drew a small, shivering breath. “I’m in love with him,” she whispered.

Chapter #8 - July

¤ July ¤ Willow had just reached the phone, which was on its third ring, when Buffy yelled from upstairs: “If that’s Spike...” “...you’re not here,” Willow filled in, picking up the receiver. “Oh, hi, Spike,” she smiled. “Yes, he is. Just a sec.” Buffy peeked over the banister, watching her friend walk into the study, hearing her hand the phone to Giles. “Close the door, will you?” Giles asked and Willow did so. Buffy frowned. “What’d he want?” she asked. “To talk to Giles,” Willow replied and Buffy ignored the slight headshake which followed this statement. ¤ Giles came out an hour later, meeting Buffy as she came down the stairs and they walked together into the kitchen. “Anything serious going on over there?” she asked, grabbing the tea kettle and a cup, bringing one for him as well as he sat on one of the stools, which stood under a long and thick shelf serving as kitchen table. “No, they needed help with naming a demon,” he replied, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. “You know, speaking to Spike I cannot help but be amazed.” “At what a nuisance one specimen can actually be?” “No, at what growth can come to a being as old as he already is,” he replied, replacing his glasses. Buffy’s slowed movements as she tried not to stare at him seemed to be something he didn’t pick up on at all. “I have come to this understanding over the passed few years so it has been a slow transition, I suppose, from the viewpoint I once held, but he is very changed. I know you agree.” “I... I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I mean, I do, but...” “Perhaps not all of him is different,” Giles mused out loud and she felt relieved that no more was expected as an answer from her. “But large parts of him. We actually held a rather serious conversation for over an hour just now, and there was not one moment I thought Angel could have done a better job, the way I did in the beginning of their little partnership.” “I remember,” she smiled. “The impatience has been dealt with,” Giles said. “He’s calmer now. More focused. It doesn’t have to happen the moment he wants it to happen, as long as the result is reached. He’s matured.” Buffy arched an eyebrow. “Matured?” she repeated. Giles smiled. “I think you know what I mean.” “Maybe it’s not maturing,” she shrugged. “Maybe it’s finding a place in the world.” Giles eyed her for a moment, and she took a long, deep sip from her cup in wait for his response. “I apologized,” he finally said and she met his gaze, wonderingly. “For what I did, that last year in Sunnydale. I apologized. He said I was being stupid, that it’s long ago. He’s a good kind of man, isn’t he?” “Yes,” she said, putting the cup down. “Very good.” He smiled a little. “He... didn’t ask for me, did he?” she inquired. “No,” Giles replied, finishing his tea and getting to his feet. Buffy nodded, though he didn’t see it as he was already leaving, and she wasn’t exactly sure why she was doing it. Standing she proceeded into the living room, where Willow was sitting at a table covered with opened books. She was reading out of a heavy and old edition of spells and conjures, but as the Slayer entered the room she turned her head to her. Buffy smiled a small smile, sinking down on the window seat. “You’ve no right to be disappointed, you know,” Willow said. “What?” “That he didn’t ask for you,” the Wicca replied, rising and coming to sit by her. “After five calls of hearing that you’re not here at the moment...? Can you blame him?” Buffy glanced at her, then fastened her gaze on something outside the window. “No,” she admitted. “I can’t blame him.” And I’m an incurable moron, she thought. Doomed to repeat my mistakes. Over. And over. And over. And over.

Chapter #9 - August

¤ August ¤ “Ms. Summers, are you alright?” She waved the concierge away, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button of her floor. The wall behind her was made of blank polished steel and she studied her appearance with a soft wince. It was worse than she had thought. “So much for the friendliness of Canada,” she muttered as she brought her keycard out and slipped it into the lock of her door. “Please, work,” she said and the green light appeared as a soft answer to her prayer. “Thank you,” she sighed, pushing down the handle and stepping inside. A second after the door had closed there was a knock on it and she paused. “I’m not here!” she said. There was another knock and she grumbled, turning around and opening the door with a: “Look, I’ve had a pretty rough...” The sentence hung unfinished as her eyes met Spike’s. She was smiling, she knew she was. Shocked and still so stupidly pleased to see him. “Can I come in?” he asked, smiling the shadow of a smile as well. She opened the door wider, leaving it for him to close as she continued into the small room. The door clicked shut. She walked up to her suitcase, bringing out her first-aid kit and throwing it on the bed as she pulled her sweater off. He wasn’t wearing his duster, but a thick gray sweater and gray trousers and he looked like he had stepped out of some sort of catalogue and in a way it was awesomely sweet and in another it was terribly horrifying that it would have come to this, that she would be reduced to this sudden insecurity when she looked at him. Their first meeting those few months ago had been so simple. The handful of meetings following it seemed to have proclaimed themselves to follow that simple pattern. That things wouldn’t be messed up between them this time. That it would run its smooth course, until they tired. Why couldn’t she have tired? He was observing the cuts on her back. “Friendly neighborhood,” she smiled, hoping the tremor in her voice wasn’t audible; even to him. She was in her bra, but didn’t feel self-conscious about that. What got to her was the galloping sensation of her pulse, of her heart, of her mind scrambling to find something witty to say, some excuse as to why she had been keeping herself away from him for the past month. When she opened the kit he was at her side, stopping her movements and making her stand with her back to him as he began cleaning the wounds in silence. His hands were gentle, his fingers working meticulously, stroking her skin and sending soft waves of quivers through her. Once he was finished he turned her around, putting one hand under her chin and having a good look at her face. There was a nasty cut by her right eye and he brought a wad of cotton to it. The fluid it was drenched in stung worse than receiving the cut had, but it was over in a second. “If you wanted to end it you should’ve told me,” he said, beginning to put the things away. She swallowed, unsure of how to respond. “Or is there someone else? Because I’m fine with it if there is, you know that, but bloody well tell me. Don’t go scurrying off like a frightened rabbit, hiding. Just tell me.” He sighed at her expression, closing the kit and pushing it aside to sit down on the bed. “Being with you has always been... You know. A cataclysmic experience.” She smiled at that, taking the seat next to him. “But I was hoping we’d both be able to be honest this time around.” “I was,” she said. “I still am. There’s no one else, Spike.” She had to smile at the thought even having entered his mind. Then she finished: “And... I wasn’t sure if I wanted to end it or not, for a while. Wasn’t sure... about much. But you’re here. I’m glad you’re here. I don’t want to not see you. I like our cataclysmic experience.” He laughed at that. “So do I,” he admonished. She smiled again, and then made a face, her right hand going to her ribs. “I’ll be alright in a couple of hours,” she said at his concerned expression. “Come here,” he said, helping her to scoot up and pulling the covers over her. “Sleep for a while,” he encouraged. “I’ll order some food for later.” “No,” she stopped him, her hand taking his. “Come to bed.” He held her gaze for a moment, then removed his shoes and climbed in to lie down next to her. She put her head on his chest and he carefully held her to him. She smiled to herself, relaxing despite the slight throb of pain which originated in her back and insisted on slowly grinding through her. “How’d you find me?” she mumbled, already drifting off. “Willow,” Spike answered. “I asked, she told.” “So you came here for me?” “You weren’t taking my calls!” She smiled again. “I’m sorry.” “It’s alright,” he said softly. “Go to sleep.” ¤ Four days later she was back in England, unpacking the light luggage she had brought and having a constant smile on her lips. She didn’t know how he felt; and based on the facts, it seemed he was fine with the way things were, but she didn’t care. She felt better than ever. “Well?” Willow said; standing leaned against the doorframe. Buffy turned to her. “You devious little witch,” Buffy smirked and Willow smiled. “I take it he showed.” “He showed,” Buffy nodded contentedly. “I’m glad,” Willow said. “So, you’ve come to a decision?” “Not really,” Buffy replied evadingly. “Buffy,” Willow said, catching her friend’s gaze. “You have to tell him.” “Why? Things are good the way they are.” Willow shook her head at her in the infuriating way she had adopted over the past two months and Buffy raised her eyebrows in aggravation. “What?” she demanded. “Things could be better,” Willow pointed out. “Or they could not be there at all,” Buffy retorted. “I don’t want to do anything stupid that I’ll regret later.” “Telling someone you love them isn’t doing something stupid.” “But telling someone you love, that you love them, when they might not love you back... I don’t want to do that, Will. No,” she stopped the protest she could see resting on the tip of the Wicca’s tongue, “just try to understand that. Please.” Willow huffed disapprovingly to the Slayer’s sentiments, but said no more. ¤ “Buffy! Phone for you!” She came into the den and grabbed the receiver from Willow. “Thanks. Hello?” “Hello, gorgeous.” She smirked. “Hi, handsome. What’s up?” “Just wanted to talk to you.” “Really? Spur-of-the-moment, pick-up-the-phone talk to me?” “Was it that obvious?” “Anything special you had in mind?” “Well, for starters – what’re you wearing?” She smiled, glancing around. “I’m in the den.” “Location comes later.” She giggled. “Stop,” she mumbled, the heat rising through her body at the thought of having his eyes on her as she slowly undressed. “I also wanted to ask you if you’re going to Athens next Friday. Angel mentioned something about it.” She smiled, the heat turning into a different kind of warmth. “Wanna see me, huh?” “Just a little.” “Well, then I’m sorry, ‘cause Athens was canceled.” “How about me stopping by England?” “That would be lovely, only I won’t be here. I have to fly to Cuba on Wednesday and then for a delegation in Houston on Sunday. I’m going to Stockholm on the Tuesday after that and then straight to Cairo for five days.” “That brings us into September.” “I know,” she sighed. “I regret taking so much on, but some of it was planned six months ago, or even further back, and I can’t cancel...” “Wouldn’t dream of it, pet.” She smiled again. “I would,” she admitted. “I’m tired of living out of a suitcase.” “So choose a country.” “I know. It’s not so easy. I don’t want to be too far away from anyone.” “But you’re ready for it?” “A home of my own, what, are you kidding? I’m a kid at Christmas. I’m a whirling dervish. I’m a gooey piece of candy that can’t wait to be eaten. I’m a cookie, finally out of the oven! I’m running out of cute metaphors for ‘yes, I’m ready’.” He chuckled. “Guess I won’t see you for a while then, huh?” he wondered silently and she sighed again, this time in defeat. “No. Guess not.” ¤ Cairo was too busy for her exhausted mind to deal with. She wanted to be in the makeshift home she had made herself at Giles’. She wanted to be in her bed. She wanted Spike to be sleeping next to her. She hadn’t felt so lonely for a long time and she was heartsick with the knowledge that she wouldn’t see him for probably another month. The casualness of their affair was catching up with her, making her sad. She wished he wasn’t so far away. Arriving at the hotel it was already ten o’clock, and she just barely made check-in. Getting her key she thanked the lady behind the counter as politely as she could, asked that her luggage would be brought up, and dragged herself to the elevator. Her body was aching in a way only a bad airplane seat could make it ache. Tomorrow she had an early meeting with the slayer branch based in the city. She had been looking forward to it, since she hadn’t seen them for over two years, but now every muscle in her body told her to lay still or they would snap and her head was pounding with an ever strengthening headache. The bellboy opened her door for her and she tipped him probably a little too generously before she smiled and said goodnight, bringing her suitcase inside the small hall of her room and closing the door behind her. She leaned against it with a huff. Then she frowned. “What in the world...?” she mumbled at the sight of the candles placed on either nightstand of the bed, which, in turn, stood in the room beyond the hall. Flames danced seductively, providing the only light. “You’re here!” She jumped high with surprise as Spike stepped into her line of sight. She gaped, unable to process this unexpected presence for another few moments. He was smiling, tilting his head to the side as he eyed her. “Here,” he then said, stepping forward and grabbing her suitcase, carrying it into the next room. Returning he pushed open a door to her right, revealing the bathroom. More candles. And a drawn bath. With bubbles. She could have cried. But she was still staring too hard at him to do anything else. He put a hand behind her back and urged her into the bathroom. Then he simply turned and walked out again. Her eyes went to the bathtub, her limbs rejoicing even at the mere thought of the hot water it most surely contained. She blinked, suddenly torn between that thought, and the one of his arms around her. God, he was there. She must have done something very right to deserve him being there, when that had been all she had wished for on the plane, and on the plane before that, and the plane before that. “Slayer,” he said and she turned her head to him where he stood in the doorway. “Pardon my asking, but why are your clothes still on?” She smiled, turning fully to face him. He was holding a mug and her eyes went to it. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “There’s tea, if you’d like. Coffee too.” “I love you so much right now, it’s not even funny,” she said lightly, smiling away the truth of her words. He watched her face, then smirked, daring: “Prove it.” She stepped up to him, her arms going around him as she kissed him, deepening it as she moved him around to lean against the wall. He put the cup down on a nearby shelf before putting his hands on her back, pressing her to him. ¤ “Did you get to see any of Cairo?” he asked, moving the sponge he had in one hand lazily over her left shin. The bath had contained water of the hottest kind, and sitting facing him she felt every last string of stress slipping off her. “Nope,” she answered his question. “I’ve been here before, though.” “When?” “A few years ago.” “Do you like it?” She smiled as his hand moved upward. “I’m not complaining.” He smiled as well. She was so completely revived. If it was the aroma of the bubble bath, or being near him, she wasn’t sure. She moved to sit on her knees, straddling him in doing so. The sponge slipped up her back and she closed her eyes, her mouth finding his and she kissed him slowly. “What was that for?” he wondered as she pulled back. “For the bath,” she answered with another smile. “I’ll have to remember that,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers. ¤ “Spike?” “Mh?” She opened her eyes. “You asleep?” “Almost, love.” “Did you...?” She hesitated. “Did you come here for a reason?” “Yes,” he replied. “Because it’s a long way to come if you don’t have one.” “Just said I did.” “Right.” She was silent a while, then mumbled: “What was it?” He didn’t answer, but after another moment he moved her over on her back, kissing her softly. When he ended it she rested her eyes in his, taking them in before wrapping her arms around him in a hard embrace. What if he woke up tomorrow and didn’t want her anymore? Willow had been right. He had to know how she felt. Even if it meant giving him up it was better knowing now, than being left behind later. I’ll tell him, Buffy thought. Tomorrow. ¤ “Spike...” He met her gaze with a quizzical expression, waiting for her to continue. She looked at him and realized that she wouldn’t be able to. Not right now. Not after last night. Not getting to have that again was too painful a notion. She’d do it soon enough. She just had to wait for that moment when she knew it was time. “Never mind,” she smiled, going back to her dinner.

Chapter #10 - September

A/N: Thanks to Robyn (for all three reviews), vladt (for all three as well!), redwulf, Azelma and Shanna for leaving your mark! Lovely! And so great that you're approving! Here are the four finishing chapters of the story! :) Much Love - Annie. ¤ September ¤ “Buffy, I need to speak to you about the phone bill.” She blinked, meeting Giles’ gaze with an innocence which had stopped working its charms on him at seventeen. “Oh, give it up,” he snapped and she smiled. “If you want to call over seas you had better get one of those card-things that people use because it’s costing me over two hundred pounds this month!” Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry!” “Yes, well, I’ll write half of it off as business calls and get due compensation, but it is food for thought, wouldn’t you agree?” Buffy nodded seriously. She wasn’t using the phone simply for private calls, though. At least most of them weren’t. Well, they were kind of personal, but not in the way Giles imagined. She wasn’t talking to Los Angeles simply to talk, she was planning. And it wasn’t for her own sake, but for Spike’s. She had gotten the most pushing urge to do something for him. Something personal. And talking to Angel one afternoon he had revealed an interesting fact – that William had been born on October 14th . It had been in passing, as they had been talking about birthdays in general, Buffy jokingly asking if he could even remember his. He had said it was barely, but that William’s date stuck with him because it coincided almost perfectly with another memorable one. She hadn’t asked what. But October. So now she was wrapped up in thoughts of a surprise. Something he probably wouldn’t even contemplate. And what could be more personal than his birthday? ¤ “I want to get a streamer.” “It’s not really Spike, is it?” Isabel asked. “He should have a streamer,” Buffy stated firmly. “Which should say what?” “Happy Birthday!” “Alright, I’ll order one. I know a place you can get them cheap.” “I don’t want it cheap. It should be colorful and happy.” “So that the guests will forget the fact that he’s been dead a lot longer than he ever lived?” “There will be no such talk! And... yes,” she admitted with a slight pout before leaving the subject behind, adding: “But you’re never too old for a birthday party. If you do it properly.” “Whatever you say, girl, you’re the boss.” “Oh, crap! I have to go. If I talk too long Giles is gonna have a fit.” “Alright. I’ll call you on Tuesday.” “Great. And I booked the tickets! We’ll be there on the tenth.” “Perfect. Take care.” “You too. Bye.” She hung up, smiling with satisfaction. “It’s coming together,” she stated as she joined Willow in the kitchen. “Good. What do you get a vampire that’s turning one-hundred-and-fifty-one? Or is it one-hundred-and-twenty-six?” “No, it’s one-hundred-and-fifty-one, since we’re celebrating his birthday. And be inventive. I know Spike likes that.” Willow cocked an eyebrow, but Buffy merely smiled. ¤ “I know. What I don’t understand is the whole hype around it. My god, it’s only a television show, what’s with the worship?” “Buffy!” Giles said, pointing to his wristwatch. Buffy looked guilty as she met his angered glare. “Sorry,” she said. “Giles bugging you again?” Spike wondered. “Yeah. Have to go.” “I could call.” She smiled. “Talk to you soon, then.” She hung up. “You happy?” she asked Giles. “Yes. And honestly, you’re acting like a teenager, Buffy. Someone else might want to use the phone, you know.” “There’s internet.” He gave her a look and she smiled sweetly just as the phone rang. She grabbed the receiver miming ‘five minutes’ to her Watcher before answering: “The do-girls-really-just-wanna-have-fun hotline, how may I help you?” “Think I can help you.” “How’s that?” “I’m sure, if we put our heads together, we could figure out if all girls want is some fun.” She smiled another smile at that. ¤ “We’re leaving on the tenth, but the party isn’t until the fourteenth,” Buffy said. “And we’ll try to make it,” Dawn assured. “I’d hate to miss it, but Mikah is pulling double shifts at the restaurant and I have a paper due and on top of that we’re remodeling the kitchen.” “What?! Why? It’s so pretty.” “I know, but we’re tired of the green.” “What color are you going with?” “Mikah wants purple.” “Umm...” “Yeah, I know. I want peach. Subtle, warm.” “Sounds great. It’ll look so beautiful with the rug.” “I know!” “Okay, sidetrack! I really want you to be there.” “I know, me too. We got the tickets, thank you so much for those, and it rests mostly with my darling, ‘cause I can write the paper anywhere.” “I know Spike’d love to see you.” “And I wanna see him! It’s been like three years, or something! And we’ve talked about getting together, but every time he’s here he’s usually so busy, or we are. I really wanna come!” “Good. Then I know you’ll do your best.” “It’s really nice, what you’re doing.” “I hope he thinks so, too.” Dawn was quiet, and Buffy began thinking the line was broken when she finally said: “I know he will.” Buffy felt oddly comforted by that. ¤ “I need to get a manicure,” she muttered, changing sides for the phone as her right ear was getting overheated. “Slayer,” Spike grumbled. “Change of subject. ...Most fond childhood memory.” She smiled a little, but it faded as she answered: “It’s so strange, but it has to do with Dawn.” She couldn’t help the streak of melancholy in her voice. “I know it isn’t really real...” “It’s real,” he interrupted her softly. She smiled once more. “What was it?” he urged. “She’d gotten her first doll and she named it Anne. I remember feeling so special because she showed me how special she thought I was.” “You are special, love.” “Well, yeah, but now I’m... abnormal-special.” “Is that so bad?” “No. Not really, I guess. There are much worse things. And besides, you’re abnormal-special, so I’m not all alone.” “You’re not?” “No.” “Because I’m abnormal-special?” “Yes...” She felt herself flushing. What had she said that made his voice sound like that, sound so curious? “Where did the special start for me, then?” he wondered quietly and she swallowed, trying to put a smile in her tone as she answered: “Has Angel diminished your ego to this? Really?” There was silence for a short while. She couldn’t stand it, and so she said: “We’re coming on the tenth.” “So I heard.” “Oh... I wanted to tell you.” “And I would’ve liked you telling me.” “I didn’t think Isabel would.” “Why wouldn’t she?” Buffy smiled again. “I’m looking forward to it,” she switched direction. “I’m glad you’re looking forward, nothing good comes from looking backwards.” “Some good can.” “Like what?” “Like fond childhood memories.” “I’m looking forward, too.” “To what?” she smirked. “You,” he murmured and the soft implication in his voice made her shudder with anticipation. “It’s not long ‘til you have me,” she mumbled. “Thought I already did.” Her heart beat grew louder, a wave of heat wafting through her. “You do,” she said, breathlessly. “I wish I could touch you.” “What would you do,” she wondered, voice lowered as she turned around to lie on her back on her bed as she finished: “if you could?”

Chapter #11 - October

A/N: I know this is a pretty long chapter, but I hope you guys will be alright with that! Something to sink your teeth into, for all those bitey fanatix out there. ;) Thanks for reading! :) ¤ October ¤ She was eager as they neared the exit doors which would bring them into LAX. Time slowed as she stepped into the arrival hall, her pulse was pounding heavily, her palms grew sweaty, and then she saw him. He was smiling and time sped up to its normal pace as she approached him. Her eyes went to Angel, who was smiling as well. “Hi,” he said, embracing her and kissing her on the cheek. “Hi,” she smiled. Willow took her place in Angel’s arms as Buffy turned to Spike. “Hi,” he greeted, and she kept the smile on as she moved close to him, hugging him tight. “Hi,” she murmured. They stepped apart, growing aware of the fact that this time they weren’t alone. Glancing at each other they both smiled self-consciously. “It’s good to see you... both,” Buffy stated, Spike’s smile widening just a tad. ¤ “You’ve got a great place,” Willow commented later that evening. “It’s small, but greater than some,” he agreed. “Glad you like it.” “Happy to oblige. Thanks for the lending of space, much appreciated.” “Don’t even mention it, Red.” She smiled. Looking at Buffy she then yawned. “I’m heading to bed,” the Wicca said, getting to her feet off the couch. “You two... feel free.” Spike furrowed his brow, watching her as she left the living room for the hall leading to the bathroom, guestroom and his bedroom. Once she was behind the closed door of the first mentioned, he turned a narrowed gaze to Buffy. “Did you tell her?” “About what?” Buffy asked. “Don’t even bloody try it, Buffy. You told her, didn’t you?” “I’m a girl! Girls talk to their friends!” “You’re a woman,” he corrected. “And I thought you wanted to keep this... private.” “It is private.” “Willow’s the only one who knows?” “Yes. And Dawn.” “You told the Bit?!” “Yes! She’s not a Bit anymore! She’s... a Mouthful, at least.” “And no one else?” “No,” she answered firmly. “Though I have to say, I got the feeling Jackie suspected something was up when I was there. I mean, not with you, but...” He stared at her, then suddenly laughed. “What?” she asked, perplexed. When he didn’t stop she had to giggle. “What?!” He calmed enough to reach a hand out, placing it behind her neck and pulling her face to his before he answered: “Never mind.” ¤ “What I can’t believe is that you’re giving this place up,” Buffy stated the following evening, reaching for another slice of pizza. The conference room table of Angel Investigations was littered with pizza boxes, half-finished sodas and napkins. “We’re ready to let go,” Angel said, meeting Isabel’s gaze. “Won’t say it’ll be easy, but we both feel it’s time.” “Broaden our horizons,” Isabel nodded. “And it’ll be in good hands,” Angel assured. “Who’s taking over?” Giles inquired. “The Henna branch,” Angel answered. “They have their headquarters only a few blocks from here. I know they’ll respect the work we’ve done so far and keep up the same quality. Though I personally believe it’d be a smoother transition if someone with no prior obligations would consider staying for a few months.” “Six,” Spike corrected. “Six months. And why should I stay, if you don’t have to? I don’t have broader horizons than either of you. There are places I still wanna see.” “Yes, but you won’t see any new places in England. Stay here! Six months, come on, it’s nothing.” Buffy’s eyes snapped to Spike’s face, her heart suddenly running away with every possible sense of practicality or acting with controlled coolness. “England?” she asked and he met her gaze. “You’re... what? You’re moving to England?” “I have lived there for a while before,” he said. She couldn’t believe it. Her brain was malfunctioning. Why would he be moving to England? “Why England?” she wondered, her tongue feeling sluggish in forming the words. Willow casually pushed a can of soda closer to her, but Buffy barely registered it. “I know I’ve been away for a bit,” he said. “But I’m still British at heart.” “But it rains,” she remarked. “All the time.” “Not all the time,” Giles defended. “Pretty much,” Willow muttered under her breath. “I know a few things to do when it rains,” Spike replied to Buffy’s statement, his eyes still in hers and she smiled briefly, taking her gaze out of his and noticing the soda can. Grabbing it, she brought it to her lips and drank a deep gulp. “Cheers to that, then,” Giles said, clinking the neck of his beer bottle with Spike’s. “I’ll make a list of things not to do while visiting at my house, for future reference.” Spike smirked, his eyes going to Buffy’s again and she had the most overpowering notion that England was for her sake. That he was moving to be closer to her. I have to tell him, she thought for the thousandth time. I’ll just tell him. No big deal. ¤ Only it was a big deal. The last time she had told him he hadn’t believed her. Things are slightly different, she insisted, trying to further her resolve by continuing pep-talk. Very different. Completely different from that year. From that time. It feels like we’re not even in the same world anymore. So you’ll tell him and he’ll smile and love you back, just like he did then. She drew a slow breath. But... everything’s completely different, she grumbled. Except you, she added, meeting her gaze in the bathroom mirror. You’re still an idiot. He’s moving to England, for crying out loud! So? I don’t live-live there. He was born there. Whatever ties he had to Los Angeles are loosening, but England is his home country. He’s not moving there for me. He’s not. She began brushing her hair. Still have to tell him, though. For my own sanity’s sake. But what if he says it’s no use and it ruins the party? I couldn’t have that. So I’ll tell him after. Yes, she decided, putting the brush down. I’ll tell him after the party. ¤ The following evening she stood in front of an old full-figure mirror which hung on the wall of his bedroom. Why he even had it was lost on her, but now she was reaping the benefits as she held one cocktail dress in either hand. He sauntered in through the open door, halting at the sight of her. “Oh, hi,” she smiled. “Maybe you can help me settle this,” she added, bringing the black dress in front of her, and then the dark green. “Which one?” She wasn’t wearing anything but panties and a bra and the look on his face made her aware of it, her smile growing. He approached her. “Personally,” he said, gently grabbing both dresses from her and throwing them on the bed before stepping into her. “I like you just the way you are.” She closed her eyes as he kissed her, his hands sliding down her back and beneath the hem of her panties and over her ass, making her breathing slow in mounting fervor. “Is Willow here?” he murmured and when she shook her head he kicked the door shut before lifting her to wrap her legs around his waist. ¤ “I’m going out!” Willow yelled the following night. “Where?” Buffy asked, coming into the hall from the kitchen. “Dinner with Isabel. Have you heard from Xander?” “No.” “You shouldn’t ‘ve put it off for so long.” “I knew how he’d react. You’d think he’d see it as a birthday party, but just because it happens to be for Spike he has to go all argh about it.” “He’ll come around, don’t worry,” Willow said. “I shouldn’t ‘ve put it off for so long,” Buffy sighed. Willow smiled comfortingly. “Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t show,” she offered. “Oh, and so you know, I’m sleeping at Angel’s tonight.” “What?” Buffy asked. “Don’t act all disappointed,” Willow smirked. “Do they have room? Won’t they wonder why?” “Isabel’s taking me to a restaurant that’s close to their place and she was the one who said it’d be better if I stayed with them so, it’s all clear.” Buffy had to smile at her friend’s support. “Have fun!” The Slayer closed the door behind her and looked at the empty apartment. Spike would be back in an hour, he had gone to the butcher’s for blood. She contemplated what to do next; then smirked and hurried back into the kitchen. ¤ She heard the key in the door and shook the match in her hand, the candle she had put it against only barely having time to catch the flame. Then she threw herself on the couch, getting into an as alluring position as she could. The door closed. “Buffy?” his voice sounded. “In here.” He came into the room with something of an amazed expression. Desire soon streaked it and she smiled, mighty pleased. “Hey, stranger,” she said, slowly sitting up. “You’re naked,” he murmured, the bag containing his dinner being placed on a nearby chair, though his eyes didn’t leave her form. She stood. “By popular demand,” she smiled. She indulged in the way he took her in, how she could feel his being reaching for hers. He needed her and wanted her and there was not a second that she wouldn’t soak it up. The candlelight sent soft shadows chasing around the room as she moved to stand before him. “Willow?” he asked, his voice faint as her hands slid over his chest, under the jacket he was wearing, pushing it off his shoulders. “Went away,” she replied, her fingers unbuttoning his shirt. “But I’m here,” she added, getting to work on his pants. “Buffy,” he mumbled, her lips connecting with the cool skin of his chest. ¤ “I’m taking you out to dinner tomorrow night,” she declared. They were in his bed, both pleasantly enjoying the afterglow of the afterglow of the afterglow. The hand stroking her shoulder slowed and she turned her head to look up at him. “Wear something nice,” she smiled. “What time?” he wondered. “Nine.” “Okay,” he said, smiling a little. She returned it, burying her nose against the side of his neck and breathing him in. “Mmh,” she sighed. “You smell good.” “So do you,” he said, kissing her earlobe and sending soft shivers through her. ¤ “Okay,” Buffy said, checking off the last thing on her list as she turned her head to Willow. “Everything’s ready. Everything’s ready, right?” “Tables are set, liquor is bought, streamer is up. We’re good to go,” Willow promised, studying Buffy before saying: “I’m glad you’re doing this for him. In case I hadn’t made it clear.” Buffy gave her a hug before taking a step back. “How do I look?” she asked just as the door to the apartment opened and Dawn came through it. There were loud ruptures of joy and hugs and kisses, and more of them when Mikah soon entered as well. “It’s so perfect you’re here!” Buffy exclaimed. “Thank you so much.” “Wouldn’t miss it,” Dawn smiled. “You look fantastic!” Buffy did a twirl, then reached for her pocketbook. “I’m meeting Spike for dinner...” “Where?” Dawn asked. “He picked the place,” she answered hurriedly, adding at Willow’s skeptical look: “I asked him out – the least he should get to do is choose the restaurant!” “You asked him out?” Dawn inquired interestedly. “As a cover for the thing!” “Riiight.” “Stop that,” Buffy reprimanded, smiling. “I’ll have him at the office by eleven,” she then said to Willow. “We’ll be there.” Buffy’s smile widened, then she grabbed a light jacket and a scarf before rushing out the door. ¤ She arrived at the address he had given her, stepping out of the cab and tilting her head back to look up at the impressive structure of the building before her. It was a hotel, and as she entered the lobby she got a déjà vu feeling from when she had followed him to Paris. Everything around her breathed romance and she began to grow giddy at the prospect of seeing him. “The Tea Room?” she asked a bellboy walking by and he nodded to a sign by the elevators. “Top floor,” he said. She stepped through the doors and as they slid shut she leaned against the wall. I’m telling him, she thought. The moment we sit down, I’m telling him. He cares about me, I know he does. I felt it last night, I could see it! She smiled in triumphant euphoria. Her love for him was going straight to her head and she felt like jumping up and down. This time tomorrow she might be calling him hers. They’d be together. The doors opened and she stepped into a beautiful restaurant, dimly lit, with freshly cut flowers in vases which stood on low tables everywhere. The lights of the city glittered through the panorama windows running the extent of every wall except the one behind her, which hosted the elevator. She took it in with a smile, turning her head to the side and having everything freeze. The moment, her mind, her blood. It all stood still at the sight she took in. He was at the bar. He wasn’t alone. A blonde girl sat with her back to the Slayer. And he was smiling at her, at something she had just said. Her hand moved to his arm, gingerly, familiarly. His hand placed itself over it, his eyes turning warm. Oh, God. Buffy couldn’t breathe. She took a step backwards. Oh, no. No. She pressed the button for the elevator and the doors opened immediately. Thankful she fled into the space behind them. The doors began to slide shut, but a hand suddenly stopped them, and Spike came through them with a questioning look on his face. “What’re you doing?” he asked. She swallowed. In one blink she was furious with him. With herself. With everything. “Where are you going?” he asked when, in elude of an answer, she merely pushed the button for the bottom floor. “Buffy?!” “I’m leaving,” she said, the doors closing and the elevator beginning to move. “Why? You asked me out.” “I know that!” she exclaimed, biting down hard to stop the tears from rising. “Thought we were having dinner,” he said. “Seemed like you were fine where you were, I didn’t want to interrupt,” she snapped and his eyebrows rose. “You’re jealous,” he said, sounding astonished and amused. She didn’t know what was worse. “It’s not jealousy. It’s rage.” “Buffy.” “Oh, I’m sorry if I expected you to be alone for our date. Or maybe she was just sitting there and you thought, hey, might as well get some scamming in while I wait for the Slayer. It’s not like she’ll mind. We’re just shagging, right?! No strings attached. Jolly ho-ho-ho!” She fought to steady herself, but the tears ran over and she blinked at them, taking a step back as he took one forward. She didn’t want him to touch her. Everything would be worse if he touched her. There was static in her ears and something numb in her chest and she didn’t want him to disrupt it with tenderness because she didn’t know what she would do. But as he took a second step forward she didn’t move, she couldn’t shrink from him, and the complete opposite need filled her – to have him near her. A second later he was. He stood close to her, reaching up one hand and letting one thumb slide over one wetted cheek. His forehead connected softly with hers and her hands slid up to his neck. She closed her eyes. “I can’t do this anymore,” she murmured, shaking her head slowly. “Why?” She pulled her head back and met his gaze. It was searching, and waiting, and she thought she saw the trace of encouragement in it. So this was it, then. She felt oddly ready. For whatever was to come of it. “Because...” she answered him softly: “I love you.” He studied her for what felt like a small eternity. She didn’t even realize she wasn’t breathing, but the noise in her ears grew louder and louder as her blood flowed through her veins like liquid copper, slow and thick. “I thought so,” he then stated. Her eyebrows arched in disbelief, but he was smiling and his eyes were glimmering with sudden mirth and then his mouth met hers, the kiss deepening. The elevator doors sliding open, as they had reached the lobby, went by completely unnoticed. They closed again and after another minute Buffy moved her head away, shaking it. “No, you didn’t,” she protested to his former claim, and he smirked, kissing her again. He ended it by placing feather light kisses on her cheek, her brow, the ridge of her nose before fastening his eyes in hers. “You thought I could ever stop loving you?” he wondered, voice warm with emotion and fresh tears rose in her eyes. “Maybe I could force your image to blur a bit, but you never went away. You’re inside me, Buffy, I carry you everywhere. ...I think I’ve told you this before.” “Something like it,” she smiled, tentative relief beginning to fill her. She wasn’t going to lose him. “But it’s so long ago,” she added. “No,” he disagreed. “It’s really not.” Her smile widened as he joined their lips once more. “Can you repeat that part about loving me?” she asked; mouth still to his. “I love you,” he said. Another smile was on her mouth as she tilted her head back, saying: “Thank God.” He smiled as well, their hold on each other tightening and she rested her head against his shoulder, feeling astounded and joyous and thankful. This is it, she thought. A defining moment. The threads of years of actions coming together to show you hah-hah, this is where you were headed all along. Spike pressed the button for the top floor, his arms still around her and she relaxed against him, the tears abating, her smile remaining. He kept one arm around her waist as they once again entered the restaurant. He promptly escorted her over to the bar and she was about to say it really wasn’t necessary, when the blonde woman turned around and fired off a bright smile. “Buffy,” Spike said. “I’d like you to meet Camelia – the head of the Henna branch and the lady who is preparing to take over the firm.” She stared at him; feeling like whacking herself on the head before she moved her eyes in Camelia’s and smiled warmly. “Hi,” she greeted. “Very nice to meet you.” “And an honor to meet you,” Camelia said, taking the hand Buffy reached out to her. “How does it feel to be a living legend?” “Hardly a legend.” Camelia smiled. “Hardly anything less. I would love to stay and chat,” she continued, getting off the stool and grabbing her pocketbook, “but Spike told me you have reservations and as luck would have it, I have a date.” She kissed Spike’s cheek, said a gracious goodbye to Buffy and was soon gone. Buffy put on a regretful face. “Yes,” Spike nodded his full agreement to it. “If you hadn’t jumped to such bloody grand conclusions I would have told you that I had a scheduled meeting with Camelia for this afternoon. She couldn’t make it and asked if we could do it later. I told her to come here. That’s why I wanted you to meet me, instead of me picking you up. As would be proper for our first date.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’m very sorry.” He smirked, kissing her cheek tenderly. “We can’t have that,” he murmured in her ear and she smiled, resting her eyes in his. ¤ She couldn’t bring her gaze away from him. Everything he did seemed to be enhanced, enchanting. She wanted to take part in all of it. She listened to every word he said, hung on the pronunciation, the expressions on his face. He was as in love with her as she was with him. Still as in love as he had been when their united story began. She could barely let herself dare to believe it. She lost herself in his eyes and for the first time it didn’t scare her, she welcomed the sensation of nothing else mattering. Then she remembered what this dinner was supposed to be prelude to. She blinked, looking at her watch. “Oh,” she said. “We have to go.” He furrowed his brow. “Why’s that?” “Because there’s something I want to show you.” He smiled at the suggestive note in her tone, sending word for the bill and paying it. “I was supposed to do that,” she pouted, but he shook his head. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand to her and she took it, rising. ¤ She gave the cabdriver the address and Spike looked at her quizzically. “The firm?” “Yeah,” she smiled, cuddling close to him. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I promise you, you’ll never be able to guess.” ¤ “A giant leaping frog?” “No,” she stated. “A tiny leaping frog?” “It’s not in a box, I keep telling you!” she laughed, walking down the dark hallway of Angel Investigations, taking them to the conference room. “A mini-me.” She smirked, shaking her head as she grabbed the knob of the door. “A giant me? A big tub of tiny marshmallows? A you in a very skimpy outfit?” She pushed the door open and stepped out of the way as he took one step forward. “Alright, where is it?” he asked, the light being flipped on and a hearty ‘surprise!’ being shouted from those gathered. He stared at them all. He seemed extraordinarily surprised, indeed, and Buffy smiled widely at his expression. His eyes caught the streamer and his brow furrowed. “What date is it?” he asked, turning his head to her. She slipped a hand in one of his. “Your birthday,” she answered. “You did this?” She nodded as people began to approach him. Angel and Isabel were the first. Then Giles, and Willow. And then people he had worked with over the passed few years, people from the firm, Clem was there with his girl, and there were people he had helped whom had stayed in touch. Buffy took a step back, and let him greet them on his own, feeling her heart swell with the simple satisfaction at seeing him so happily engaged. She couldn’t get her smile to simmer down; instead it seemed only to gain in force. When he spotted Dawn it looked as though his smile would be too big for his face. “Can’t believe you’re here,” he said. She embraced him. “Happy birthday,” she congratulated warmly. ¤ “How did you do this?” Spike asked Buffy as he, half an hour later, joined her at the punch bowl. “Magic,” she answered. “Almost literally.” “Can’t bloody remember the last time I celebrated my birthday,” he smiled. “Brings me back.” She returned the smile. “How’d you like the streamer?” “First thing I noticed.” “I knew you’d like it.” “I like it,” he said, an earnestness entering his eyes as his hand brushed her cheek. “Thank you.” She felt almost embarrassed under his gaze, but then she stood on her toes and kissed him briefly. He smirked, and she did as well. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Oh, my God,” she added, her eyes having landed on something over Spike’s shoulder. “He came.” Spike frowned, then turned his head to where she was staring. Xander spotted them and approached, carrying a wrapped present in one hand and a bottle in the other. He cleared his throat a little, glancing at Spike and fastening his gaze in Buffy’s. “Hi,” he said. “Hi.” He seemed hesitant, then finally locked his eyes with Spike’s. “This is for you,” he said, awkwardly holding out the gift to the vampire. Spike accepted it with almost as much staleness. “Jackie picked it out,” Xander admonished. “She couldn’t come. And I’m only staying one night,” he added with a look at Buffy. “They say anything can happen during a baby’s first months.” “Jackie’s uber-mom, Xander. Jessie will be fine, you don’t have to be so dramatic,” Buffy said. “I get it,” Spike assured and Xander looked at him again. “Decent of you to show.” “Yeah, well,” Xander muttered, realizing he was still holding the bottle and reluctantly handing it to the vampire as well. “It’s blood,” he said. “Butcher said it’s the better stuff. In case you have something to celebrate sometime, or whatever it is you... do with it.” Spike smiled in appreciation. “Thoughtful,” he commented and Xander shrugged again. “Yeah, well,” he repeated. “Xander?” Dawn’s voice rang from behind them and when he turned around she screamed in delight, throwing herself around his neck. “Xander! Xander!” Willow soon heard the name and came to join in the yell-and-jump-fest, Giles not far behind, though he kept himself in the background until the girls calmed themselves enough for him to shake hands with Xander. Spike smiled widely, his eyes in Buffy’s. She returned it, getting the feeling he was thinking what she was thinking. The core of the old gang in the same room once more. She slipped a hand in one of his. ¤ “What are you doing in there?” Spike called. It was almost five in the morning, and Buffy had been gone for fifteen minutes. She had mysteriously disappeared into the bathroom the moment they got back to his apartment. “Well,” she replied, an arm sliding in through the slit created by the bedroom door standing ajar, “I heard someone mention something,” she continued, her left leg following, wearing knee-high fishnets and high heels, “about me,” she added, the door sliding open and she stepped through it as she finished, “in a skimpy outfit.” His jaw dropped. Exactly the reaction she had been looking for. She was in a red bra and matching panties, knowing that both pieces brought out the best of every curve. Her hands had been kept behind her back, but now she brought them up to place what they held on her head. A pair of glittery, red horns. He smiled, his eyes gleaming with delight. “Devil!” he said and she pouted her lips into a kiss before spinning slowly around, giving him a full view. Coming full-circle to face him she leaned forward. “Happy birthday, baby,” she said softly. ¤ “So, we’re doing this now?” he asked. She was comfortably locked in his arms. “Birthdays, holidays, the whole bleeding shebang?” She stroked his chest tenderly, nodding. “We’re doing it,” she said. He kissed the top of her head and she smiled. “Are you really moving to England?” she wondered. “I’m moving to you,” he said. “If you’re not in England there’s not much point in my being there, is there?” She looked up at him, still wearing the smile. “We could live here for a while,” she offered. “If you wanna help with the firm thingy. Six months isn’t that long. And if they really need you...” “They don’t,” he said, his fingertips sliding over her cheek. “I wish you’d called me. That you’d picked up the phone the second you were able to,” she mumbled and there was an expression of agreement in his gaze. “Why didn’t you?” He smiled slightly. “I didn’t want to ruin what you remembered me as.” She frowned. “You were being selfish.” “No,” he shook his head. “No, I was thinking of you. How much better it was for you to think well of me.” She eyed him for a minute in silence, then said: “You were scared you’d screw it up.” “Terrified.” She smiled. “And I thought you’d moved on with your life,” he added. “Thinking that made me able to... stand not seeing you. That you were happy. And I knew you were.” “I mourned you,” she said. “And yeah, I had to leave it behind, but I didn’t forget you. Finding out that you were alive was such a... shock to me. And I was so hurt that you hadn’t contacted me. I didn’t understand why. And then I figured you’d decided that that part of your past was finished. Done with. You didn’t want to be reminded.” “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I just felt I’d disrupt your existence if I tried to step into it again. And that was the last thing I wanted. And then two years had gone by, three, four... And the reasons dimmed a bit, and it almost got to be a matter of principle. You were coming – meant I was going. I knew you had every right to see Angel and I wasn’t gonna bloody stand in the way of that.” “And every time I came I was bracing myself, thinking I would see you. But after a few visits I guess I just started expecting you to be gone on some last minute thing.” He smiled again. “I was an idiot.” “A moron. A dope!” His smile broadened. “You weren’t too bright yourself,” he pointed out. “It went so far that I almost felt... not ready to see you again. I got scared that you’d be so changed I wouldn’t recognize you. That we wouldn’t be able to talk anymore.” “Yes, because we had such somber, heartfelt discussions back in Sunnydale.” She smirked. “That we wouldn’t even be able to fight anymore, then,” she said. They looked at each other, growing quiet before both moving their head forward, their lips joining in a kiss which was soft and loving; wiping out whatever conclusions and misunderstandings had kept them so far apart. He moved his head back, meeting her gaze with one tender. She recognized the expression so well, and it went into her, how incredible it was to see it there, still, after all this time. “I loved you, you know,” she said. “That last year. I felt for you... and I think I saw you for the first time, as you really were. It frightened me. What you did for me. What would have driven you to do that for me. That you loved me that much... That you’d loved me, all along. All the things I’d done... and said...” “You had every right to do them, and say them,” he interrupted, voice low and full of understanding. “No,” she shook her head. “Some of them, yes, but others... If I’d believed you sooner...” “Buffy,” he smiled. “There’s no use dwelling on it. It doesn’t matter.” He moved his fingers carefully through her hair. “You love me,” he said. “What else could possibly matter to me?” She got herself further up to wrap her arms around his neck, nestling her face against his throat. “But you really didn’t believe me, did you? When I told you. In the Hellmouth.” He seemed to hesitate, then answered: “No. I couldn’t.” She closed her eyes tightly. “I guess I already knew. Guess I couldn’t believe you wouldn’t have gotten in touch with me if you had had even a smidgeon of a reason to believe me.” She trailed off, her hold tightening. “It’s okay,” he said, stroking her back. “Buffy, let’s stop this. There’s no use.” “I want you to know that I’ve thought about...” “I know,” he stopped her, bringing her head up for her to meet his gaze. “Don’t you think there are things I regret? Don’t you think there’s a century of killing I wish I could take back? Whatever happened back then was meant to happen. There’s nothing we can say or do that’ll take it back. Let’s leave it alone. I love you,” he said, the look in his eyes intensifying. “I love you.” She smiled, meeting the kiss he gave her with a new, centered calm inside of her which spread its wings and cautiously fanned away any fear or doubt that had still remained. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

Chapter #12 - November

¤ November ¤ “What do you think?” He looked around the apartment. It was clean; perfectly located; large enough to act as a benevolent host to two individuals such as them; she couldn’t see that there was anything to create dislike. She had stumbled upon it by accident. They hadn’t even officially started looking yet, but once she was shown into it, she fell for it instantly. It was of an older model, and wasn’t as strict as some of the newer apartments she’d been in. She waited anxiously as he took another turn around the room they were in, which was the largest of the four making up the place. Finally he faced her, and smiled. “It’s perfect.” She jumped slightly on the spot before skipping up to him, hugging him tight in her growing excitement. “Isn’t it, isn’t it?” she kept repeating and he started to laugh. She took a step back, looking at the room and breathing it in. She knew they’d be able to make a home out of it. It was comfy and had a sense of history to it, a certain recline, as though it had seen its share of tenants and would welcome them accordingly. She adored the windows, which were narrow, but high. She’d buy nice drapes for them, heavy, to keep the light out when he was awake. “A few buckets of paint,” he was saying, looking around as well. “Some nice pieces of furniture.” “A big bed,” she smirked, her arm snaking around his waist and his placing itself around her shoulders before he kissed her temple. “We’ll read the newspaper together,” he said and her smirk turned to a smile as she looked up at him. “Play footsie under the table. Because we’ll have a table. In the kitchen.” She hit him playfully in the chest. “But are you sure?” he wondered. “I like it here,” she replied. “England’s been good to me. Are you sure, with the rain and the memories.” “The rain I can handle,” he said. “And memories... I’ll make new ones.” “Good ones.” “Yeah; and you’ll bloody well have to help.” She laughed, hugging him again. “Besides, the slayer machine won’t stop grinding us everywhere, so we’ll still get a change of scenery when we need it,” she nodded. “Now, let me show you where the library should be.” “Library? There’s no room for a library.” “A small one. It’ll be like a sitting room, too.” “When do you read, anyway?” “Watch it.” ¤ Two weeks later all the paperwork was gone through and they could start moving in. She could hardly believe it. Two months ago she would never have seen herself doing anything even remotely close to this. She had been a drifter for three years and not worried too much about it, finding places to stay and people who wanted her with them wherever she went. And here she was, with a boyfriend – wow, he actually was her boyfriend now; an apartment and a life which was straightening itself out for the first time in a very long time; allowing her to see at least partially where it was headed. “What about this one?” he asked, holding up a color sample to the wall and she sat back in the new couch they had gotten, sipping her wine and shaking her head. “Too light. Something a bit darker,” she said. He held up a new one. “Too dark. Try the number seven.” He did. “Uegh. No. Try... ten.” He did. “God, no. No, no... Try...” He threw the samples at her and she laughed, parting her legs as he kneeled before her. “What should I try?” he asked, kissing her neck and she closed her eyes. “Mh,” she mumbled. “Try a bit higher.” ¤ “If you can’t make up your sodding mind, don’t expect me to bloody do it for you!” he yelled at her. “I’m not asking you to make it up for me; I’m asking you to tell me what you think!” “Every time I tell you what I bleeding think, you say ‘oh’ and then do the exact opposite!” “I do not do the exact opposite!” “What color did I suggest for the living room?” “Blue.” “What did we go with?” “Gray! That’s not the exact opposite; it’s a few pegs down on the color scale. And you can’t put blue in the living room! It’s for the bedroom. Or the bathroom!” “What color did I want in the kitchen?” “Yellow! Yuck!” “There, right there!” “What?!” “What?! What? You just yucked my suggestion.” She clenched her fists together, her face hot with anger. “You can’t seriously want yellow!” “I’m as bloody serious as I’ll ever get!” “Our kitchen should be light and inviting!” “Like ‘lettuce’.” “Don’t mock my metaphor!” she exclaimed. “Green is a perfect kitchen color.” “Were you born with the bloody rules of color in the home? Is this something women genetically come with, because I’ve never heard of any bloody perfect kitchen color dictionary.” “Oh, you’re so funny.” “Wasn’t trying to be.” “I’m starting to understand your choice of clothing.” “What? When did this spin around to be about what I bloody choose to wear?!” “Drusilla must’ve gotten tired of the clown outfits you kept walking out of the crypt in, so she decided you should go all black!” she barked. “In case you hadn’t noticed,” he got out between tight jaws, “I don’t wear all black anymore. And don’t act like you don’t like the black, Slayer. I know you do.” “Fine, what color do you want in the bedroom?” “And we’re back with the apartment.” “What color?” He glared at her and she glared back. “Blue,” he finally said. “Alright. Fine,” she nodded. “Or maybe yellow.” “Spike!” He smirked and she was on him the next moment, her tongue gliding in to meet his as he started jerking her clothes off. The couch tripped them and they fell onto it, half naked and writhing with growing eagerness. He licked his way down her belly, two fingers sliding inside her and she gasped. Would she always have this reaction to him? The build towards climax began and she groaned as she rolled with it. She would always have this reaction to him. ¤ “And the final stroke,” she said, reaching up toward the ceiling and putting the finishing touch to the living room walls’ paintjob. She paused, then turned slowly on the fold-out ladder, meeting Spike’s gaze. “We’re done,” she said, eyes wide with wonder. “So’s the food!” Willow called from the kitchen. Spike smiled widely, reaching out his arms to help Buffy off the ladder. She slid down with her chest to his and his lips met hers before her feet landed on the floor. “We’ll be able to move the furniture in,” she said, arms still around him. She was still in utter disbelief. “We’ll be able to hang pictures and watch TV and...” “...live together?” he asked, a sudden petrified expression in his eyes. She stared at him, swallowing. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “You’ll kill each other within a week,” Giles stated cheerfully, coming into the room with a glass of wine for them each. The both accepted theirs with a glance at the other, Giles turning and walking back into the kitchen. Buffy thought about going to bed with this bleached menace that always knew what she was thinking or at least how to get to it, she contemplated sleeping next to him, waking up in his arms every morning, or evening or whenever they chose to get up. She smiled. He saw it, and returned it, clinking his glass with hers in a silent toast. “It’ll be a month, at least,” he promised, her smile broadening as she sipped the chilled liquid. It was sweet, and she licked it onto her lips before stepping close to him again, putting one arm around his neck before kissing him deeply. She felt him grow weaker and smiled as he leaned against her. “But I’ll love you forever,” she then stated, pulling back and looking at him. “I believe you,” he smirked and she giggled, kissing him again as Willow entered the room. “Hot plates,” she warned, putting the objects in question down on the sheet covered table. Within a few minutes the lighting of the room had been dimmed. Candles had been lit and the table was set more nicely than Buffy would have thought doable. They kept the sheet on the couch, Willow and Giles having a seat on it as Buffy and Spike sat down on the floor, the table being low enough for it to be comfortable. “Alright,” Willow said. “Let’s eat.” ¤ Buffy moved her leg, bending it so she could pull it up and rest it practically across his waist. They lay in each other’s arms, nearly asleep. “It was a nice evening, wasn’t it?” she murmured. “Yeah, it was.” “They’re not so bad. Are they?” His fingers splayed themselves behind her head, making her move it to rest her eyes in his. He was frowning questioningly. “Well, once upon a time you didn’t like them so much,” she said tryingly. “Once upon a time I didn’t like you so much either,” he pointed out and she smiled brightly. Putting her cheek back against his chest she closed her eyes. This was how it was gonna be from now on. What a beautiful turn of events her future had granted her. “We’ll move the furniture in tomorrow,” she said and he hmh-ed sleepily. “The bed’s heavy, think we’ll manage, just you and me?” “We’ll manage.” She was quiet for a short while, then said: “Should we get a car?” “Buffy,” he grumbled. “Go to sleep.” “Maybe we should get a motorcycle.” There was a lapse of silence, then he said: “It’d make it easier to visit Giles. ...Willow, too. Go to London whenever we want. Bristol, Liverpool, see the country.” She started laughing, moving her head to look at him again. “You’re too easy,” she smirked teasingly. ¤ She sat back in the couch. It was white, simple, but perfectly fitted for the room. They had had incredible luck when scouring the furniture shops, practically having everything they wanted, and needed, landing in their laps. Though the interior design had been left mostly to Buffy, Spike admitted freely that she had done a very good job. She had incorporated both of them into the rooms, no matter how much a stickler she had been with the colors – as he also freely pointed out. But she’d smile at him, and he’d smile back, and she knew he wasn’t really serious. “Did you ever think we’d get here?” she asked, turning her head to him. “What, finally finishing this place?” he asked back, but seemed to notice something in her face because he smartened up, reaching out a hand and linking his fingers with hers before he said: “No. I didn’t.” “But here we are.” He smiled a little. “Here we are.” ¤ “Where do you want to spend Christmas?” He looked up from the book he was reading. “I don’t know. Are there options?” “We could go see Angel and Isabel.” “We’re not scampering around the globe for Christmas. I know you want to be with Dawn.” She smiled. “I do. And she’s usually at Giles’.” “Giles’ it is,” he said. “You don’t mind not being here?” “Buffy, would you stop acting like I hate your friends. I don’t mind them.” “Do you... like them?” He gave her a look and she stretched out a leg, giving him a puff on the knee with her socked foot. “You like them, don’t you?” she smiled. “You even like Giles.” “Wouldn’t go that far,” he muttered, then smiled as well when she gave him another puff. “I respect the old git, alright?” he said. “There. I admit it.” Her smile grew as she observed him. He rolled his eyes, going back to his book.

Chapter #13 - December

¤ December ¤ “Do you have the gifts?” He looked at her as though she must have lost her mind. “You were supposed to pack them,” he objected to her widening eyes. “No, I asked you to put them in the trunk!” she exclaimed. “We have to go back. Stop the car, we have to go back!” She was about to make him, when a sudden gleeful expression in his eyes made her catch herself. “Bastard,” she said and he smirked. “Perhaps. But at least I always do as you ask, milady,” he stated, kissing her hand softly, his gaze still on the road. “Darling,” she smiled and he did as well. She linked her fingers with his, looking at his profile. Christmas music was streaming out of the cd-player and she felt thankful. To be there. That he was with her. Lord knew there were many things that could have prevented it, but they had been blasted apart, by their mutual need for the other no longer standing being denied. She brought the back of his hand to her lips, and did as he had before, kissing it gently. This brought his eyes in hers and she smiled a little. “Thank you,” she said. He furrowed his brow. “For what?” She didn’t answer, but her smile warmed. ¤ “I remember one time when Christmas was uneventful in Sunnydale. One,” Buffy stated, those surrounding her laughing and she smiled as well, shaking her head. “It was weird,” she admitted. “But at least they seemed to respect the morning,” Willow tried. “Oh, yes, lots of time to enjoy the presents and the eggnog and then, hey, let’s sneak out and squeeze a bit of killing into the jolly holly,” Buffy said. “There were no apocalypses,” Giles remarked. “True,” Buffy nodded, sinking back against Spike’s chest where they sat on the couch. “But I always wanted this,” she sighed. “I’m flattered,” Spike smirked and she bent her neck to give him a smile. “I meant the tree and the friends and the not having to preserve anything but the Christmas spirit,” she said, “but this too,” she added and he kissed the ridge of her nose with great care, making her smile broaden. “I got an A on my paper,” Dawn said. “To bring the focus over to me.” Everybody congratulated her heartily and she smiled. “What’d you write it on?” Spike asked. “The existential questions pertaining to dimensions, what they might use as building blocks and if they all have certain ones which they share, making the facts of life the same, but the contents of life different. Also, how it might someday be possible to create gates between them with more stability than the magic that’s used today.” Spike cocked an eyebrow. “Wow,” Willow said. “Perfectly fitting,” Giles stated, raising his glass of scotch to Dawn with a slight nod of the head. “For the Key to search her origin,” he added, making her smile again, looking slightly self-conscious. “Was that what you were doing?” Buffy asked, frowning questioningly. “Don’t look like I disown my humanity or something,” Dawn replied. “I’m curious about where I started, you know that. And I’d like to make sure that I’ll... never be needed again,” Dawn shrugged. “But, honey...” Buffy began, only Dawn held her gaze firmly and stopped her. “You never know, not in this world,” she said. “Somewhere there might be a spell of some kind forceful enough to wake whatever power that’s dormant inside me. ‘Cause it’s not gone.” Mikah slid one hand over her back and she smiled a little. Buffy wished she could talk openly about Dawn’s still-slightly-glow-y state, but she couldn’t. The thought was too heavy to bear; the memories attached to the night of the Key’s activation were too vivid and bright and strange. So she deterred from speaking of it. But she admired her sister immensely, and loved the raw strength she could see in her. To try and grasp that Dawn wasn’t straight through human wasn’t possible for the Slayer, but Dawn – she knew – had had to face the knowledge in a completely different manner. And she had done it well, because she had let it in, and it had helped her grow. “Hey,” Buffy said, Dawn’s eyes meeting hers. “I’m proud of you,” the elder added and a tentative smile spread over the mouth of the younger. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Are you enjoying the new apartment?” Mikah asked, his English broken charmingly by a heavy French accent. “What’s not to enjoy?” Spike replied with a smirk. “I know what you mean,” Mikah smiled, but Spike’s face fell into seriousness as he glanced at Dawn and Mikah checked himself. Buffy turned her head to look up at the vampire, then put a playful elbow in his side. “Stop it with the protectiveness, they’re practically married,” she said. Dawn hadn’t noticed the exchange and for a moment looked bewildered, but then she met Spike’s gaze and smiled. “It’s getting rather late,” Giles said, keeping down a yawn. “Willow, will you help me clear this out?” he added, standing. She nodded, picking up emptied wine glasses before heading into the kitchen. “You ready for bed?” Spike asked Buffy, who turned her head once more to meet his gaze. “Not quite yet,” she answered. ¤ “I love this house at Christmas,” she said. It was half an hour later and the living room had been abandoned save for her and Spike. They were sitting beside the slowly dying fire, in front of the beautifully ornamented Christmas tree. It shone with small Christmas lights, and had glitter of silver as well as old decorations in the form of painted Christmas balls and angels and small santas. “It’s magic,” she added. “Brings me back to being a kid.” He smiled. “There’s this atmosphere here,” she continued. “Like there’s a reason to... hope.” “Hope for what?” he asked. “For the greater good,” she smirked. “For Santa and his sleigh actually landing on the roof tonight, that’s what! For enemies to become friends.” “So we’re friends now?” She laughed, scooting even closer than she sat and he put an arm around her. “We’re friends now,” she confirmed, turning her face up to his and he kissed her tenderly. “I never would’ve thought,” he mumbled. “What?” she asked. “That I’d be here, on Giles’ floor, in front of a Christmas tree...” “A pretty Christmas tree.” “With you.” “Never crossed your mind?” He shook his head slowly. “I missed you so bloody much,” he murmured. “Tell me I’ll never have to again.” She looked into those blue eyes, saw his devotion, his sincerity, his love and need for her. And she smiled. “You’ll never have to again,” she promised. She moved her arms to wrap them around him, tightly. He held her back and then they lost their balance, falling back and Buffy giggled, landing on her side with his arms still around her. They lay still, face to face, the calm glow of the fire illuminating him from behind and she reached up a hand, slowly tracing his brow, cheek, jaw. “I’m happy,” she whispered. He smiled a little, his gaze softening. “I mean, really happy,” she added. “I mean, rolled-in-cotton-candy-about-ready-to-melt-in-your-mouth happy.” His smile grew. “That’s sweet,” he murmured and she smirked, but then she turned serious. “I need you to understand that you mean more to me than anyone, ever.” He stared at her, and she placed her hand on his cheek again. “I love you.” “I know,” he murmured. “No,” she shook her head. “I love you.” He observed her intensely for another moment, then pulled her into a hard embrace. She buried her face against his chest, scared of what losing him again would to her. She couldn’t. Not ever again. Please, God, she thought. But she didn’t know what their next mission would entail. What sort of platter of destruction next week or next month would serve them. “Can’t we go away?” she mumbled. “Just disappear? To some island somewhere. Where there’s no noise. No people.” “You’d be bored,” he said and she knew he was smiling. “I’d be bored.” “I know,” she muttered. “But...” “Buffy,” he stopped her, pulling back to rest his eyes in hers again. “Stop fretting, love. We’ll be fine. Yeah?” She felt his conviction pull through the air, dive into her, mix with her blood. She moved her head forward and kissed him carefully, enjoying the feel of his lips, of his tongue, the movement of his jaws, his hands slipping up her back, holding her body against his. The warmth from the embers in the fireplace burned her skin with the residue of heat they still held captive, but the flames engulfing her soul were of another kind. The torment of having him close was twisting its pathways through her. She loved it. It was a pain that was of the most exquisite kind, brought forth by overwhelming longing, want and the love which lay like a new kind of armor around her heart. It made her go to pieces. She fell apart in his arms, and waited patiently for him to put her back together with touches and kisses and whispered words. His tongue was inventing new steps in its dance with hers and she smiled. “Let’s go upstairs,” she mumbled. ¤ “This bed is the best bed,” Buffy sighed as she kissed his chest a few nights later. They had returned home after two more days of peaceful holiday leisure at Giles’. Dawn and Mikah had flown back to France on the twenty-sixth, but there had been promises to see each other again soon. Willow had gone to visit with a coven somewhere on the Scottish coast, and would be gone for two weeks. And Buffy was happy to be where she was. “Let’s set up camp,” she said and Spike looked at her questioningly. “Until New Years Eve,” Buffy continued, sitting up with escalating conviction that she had just had a stroke of pure genius. “We’ll stay in bed. Do everything in it!” Now he smirked and she smiled as well. “What about fireworks? The countdown? Champagne!” “Champagne is overrated,” she said. “And listen to this – ten, nine, eight, seven...” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully. “And,” her face grew thoughtful as her hand moved under the covers, softly encircling the base of his member, which immediately hardened, leaving her with a gentle, but satisfied, smile. His mouth fell open as he stared into her gaze, her hand caressing him knowingly. “Fireworks – check,” she murmured, moving forward to kiss him deeply, his hands grabbing her arms tightly. He was groaning silently, urging her on and all the while turning her blood a few degrees hotter. She was practically moaning with him and then she couldn’t take it anymore, straddling him and guiding him into her, riding him with her hands gripping the low headboard behind his back. For every movement he was shuddering and she reveled in this sense of power, of being able to weaken him, to drive him out of himself and so far into her he thought he’d lose himself there forever, because that was what he did to her. They came together in clashes of deep scarlet, red and gold, bursts of pleasure painting their skies in the most magnificent colors. ¤ “Stop laughing!” She tried to get her face straight, finally managing to and lying on her side once more, facing him. “I’m sorry,” she said, clearing her throat and meeting his gaze. “I won’t do it this time.” He was, as apposed to her, completely serious, looking at her. He had managed to keep this mask of indifference on for the half hour they had been playing, while she had been laughing through half of it. She just hadn’t been in the mood for graveness, until now, when she realized that she was letting him win without even putting up a fight. No. She’d be able to do it this time. She’d beat him at his own game if it so killed her! Keeping her face relaxed she rested her eyes in his. That blue shade in them always seemed to change after his mood, why was that? Did hers do that? She smiled softly, because she had to when she looked this intently at him. She had known his face for so long, there were so many memories and stages of her life attached to it. Suddenly he winked, obviously having gotten something in his eye, he did it again and then whatever it had been seemed to have been dealt with. Only it set her off again. She started to giggle, and this time it was harder to stop. Tears sprang to her eyes. She didn’t even know what was so funny. But he was so cute. “Slayer,” he murmured. “I’m disappointed in you.” She was still chuckling as she turned her head to him. She thought the fit was settling down, but then she began laughing once more, her hands going to her belly as she was practically cackling. It seemed this was breaking down his defenses as well, because after a few more moments, he joined her. “Bloody stop!” he exclaimed. “I can’t,” she gasped. “What’s so sodding funny?” “I don’t know!” Somehow this was even funnier and soon they were roaring. She didn’t mind it, despite the ache below her ribs and the struggle for air. The joy that had been building had certainly needed some form of outlet. ¤ The bedroom was a minor disaster area, but they shrugged the fact off. They barely set foot on the floor, anyway, and the bed itself was nothing but a tangle of comfortable sheets and lovely, soft limbs. The only times they actually exited the room was to shower together, or to still their hunger. The fridge had been well-stocked with both food and blood, and neither of them was left wonting. He made love to her, and she had almost forgotten the roughness of him taking her against a wall outside the Double Meat, or falling asleep on top of one of the sarcophaguses of his crypt. She felt it all slip into a place of sandpapered edges and cushioned falls, where it couldn’t have been as obscene as she had thought it back then. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if there had been some form of alliance between them when he told her that he loved her that first time. Some bond of friendship, a sliver of trust. Would she have stepped back and tried to look at him from the perspective he had so craved? Would she have allowed herself? And where would that have taken them? If she had granted him access, granted him the benefit of the doubt, if she had believed him to be capable of loving her. She knew it would have shifted large parts of how she viewed the world she lived in. The year after she returned from the grave, she had seen something in him. A kindred spirit which both frightened and enticed her, leaving her confused and still irreversibly drawn to what he shared with her. The iced breath of death had slipped through both their lungs, and somehow it had let them breathe it out again. His understanding had been seductive, but now, in retrospect, she could see that her newfound understanding of him had been ever more dangerous. How good she had been at overlooking the unconsciously woven thread which had tied her to him. It had been taut, always threatening to snap, but it had resisted every effort on her part in cutting it, tearing it, ripping it apart. It had refused to be destroyed and so she had done what any sane person would do, she had buried it. Covered it with sand and grime and dirt and decided to let it rest, hoping it would wither away. And she had pushed him away so hard it made him leave her to find what he thought she needed to love him. She turned her head to him where he lay beside her, sleeping. Was he real? She touched his arm, which was lying across her belly, and smiled to herself as her fingertips graced cool skin. He had said that there was no use dwelling on the past, that there was nothing they could do to change it. He was right. There were no words that could explain to him how much it pained her to know that she had been the cause of so much pain to him. There were no words to ask forgiveness since it had already been bestowed. But there was still cause to remember. All those years were what had made her fall in love with him. All their struggle down their overgrown path, seeing only glimpses of each other along the way, was what had delivered them to this clearing. This beginning. She eyed him in the stillness of their home and another smile grew onto her mouth. This passionate, demanding, strong, challenging man would never let her down. She believed in him and trusted him and adored him almost uncannily. The thread would never snap. And, to think, the most annoying being she had ever met was now who she loved best of all. Fate sure wasn’t without some kind of irony. ¤ “I promise I’ll always make the bed if I’m the last one out of it.” “Now you’re just making things up as you go along.” “I bloody well am not.” “If you’re not gonna be serious we don’t have to do this.” He held her gaze steadily. They were sitting facing each other, cross-legged, on the bed. “I promise I’ll always watch your back,” he stated and she smiled. “I promise,” she said, “that I’ll always want you with me. Even if the assignment might be for the Slayer.” She added the last as an afterthought. He cocked an eyebrow. “And if the assignment’s for the Vampire, I promise I’ll let you tag along, too.” She cocked an eyebrow as well. “That wasn’t how I meant it,” she said. “But, just out of curiosity, how many assignments does the Vampire usually get?” “Per week? Or day?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” she rolled her eyes. “You saw how many people came to that birthday bash you threw for me, Slayer, don’t look all disbelieving.” “I’m just saying, now that you’re out of the official business...” “Business?” “Of investigation and things,” she said. “Maybe...” “Maybe I’ll start my own firm of investigation and things,” he snapped and she smiled. “Yeah?” He narrowed his eyes. “Might consider it, yeah.” “Good,” she said, leaning forward to give him a kiss. “But you should really not name it after you,” she added. “What’s wrong with my name now?” “Nothing! I like Spike,” she assured. “But, honey, Spike Investigations might send the wrong message. Like a muscle-for-hire message.” “I won’t call it that. I wasn’t gonna bloody call it that,” he said and she smirked. “But you’re thinking about it?” His eyes softened. “Yeah.” “Oh,” she said, glancing at the watch on the nightstand. “You ready?” He smiled. “Ready.” “Ten,” they began the countdown together. “Nine.” “Eight.” “Seven.” “Six.” “Five.” “Four.” “Three.” “Two.” And then they kissed their way out of the old year, and into the new.