Banner credit: OKDeanna, for the art-to-fic challenge at LJ comm spuffy_wonder.


Buffy, Xander, and Willow strode into Wolfram & Hart unmolested. They passed a security guard who was too busy fiddling with his walkie talkie to notice them. They stood in the lobby, watching people and demons rush about, all apparently reacting to something dire. Phones were ringing, buzzers buzzing, and under it all, a far-off klaxon sounded.

“I’m starting to understand why we couldn’t raise anyone on the phone,” said Willow.

“Nice to know that the bad guys have bad days, too,” noted Xander.

“We don’t know that they’re bad guys, exactly,” said Buffy, trailing off as a red-skinned demon with horns, a tail, and a smart business suit trotted across to a set of double doors, his cloven hooves making a very distinctive clicking sound on the elegant wooden floor.

The reception desk was unattended. It took five tries before they got someone to stop and talk to them. Finally, Buffy corralled a petite woman holding a stack of files and waiting for the elevator.

“Angel? Wes? Cordelia? Anybody?” demanded Buffy. The small woman shrugged and shook her head, and tried to scurry away. Buffy grabbed her upper arm, whipped out a stake, and pressed it to the terrified woman’s — no, vampire’s — chest.

“Who’s in charge?” She gave the arm a little shake when all she got was a whimper. “Today.”

“Um. Counselor Gunn?” squeaked the woman.

“Oh! I know him! He’s one of Angel’s,” said Willow.

“Lead the way,” said Buffy to the quaking vampiress.

“I’m just from the steno pool,” she protested. “The higher ups don’t exactly let us know their whereabouts.”

“C’mon. Show a little initiative,” suggested Buffy with a little nudge from her stake. “Otherwise I might forget that this is a protected wildlife refuge.” She leaned in to speak directly into her captive’s ear. “Where I come from, vampire is always in season.”

“We could t-try the lab,” said Steno Pool.

“Great. Let’s go.”

Steno Pool gestured toward the stairs, and off they marched. Nobody paid any attention to them. Xander muttered, “Be vewy, vewy quiet.” Willow rolled her eyes.

After wandering down one hallway and another, they pushed through the double doors into the lab. Half a dozen people in lab coats hurried about, or hunched diligently over various pieces of equipment. A thin, pretty woman walked toward them.

“Fred!” cried Willow.

“Willow! What a surprise! What are you doing in LA? Who’re your friends?”

“We came to…oh! This is Xander and this is Buffy! Guys, this is Fred Burkle!”

“So happy to meet you both. I’ve heard all about Buffy, of course, but nobody mentioned you had a Nick Fury-type on your team.”

“That’s what I keep telling them,” said Xander, beaming at Fred.

“Not everybody appreciates the Fury,” said Fred with a serious nod.

“Fred. You’re the science gal, right?” asked Buffy. She let go of Steno Pool in order to shake Fred’s hand. “Nice set up.”

“Thanks. I’m still amazed at what we can accomplish with the right resources. Which might be part of what you’re here for, right?”

“Right!” said Willow, snapping back from her interested perusal of a particularly arcane device. “We came to pick up some Slayers that our mystics located in the greater Los Angeles area. But we ran into a hitch.”

“Hit a snag,” said Buffy.

“Screwed the pooch,” added Xander.

Charles Gunn walked in just as Steno Pool reached the doors. He nodded. “Hey, Tamika.” She gave him a brilliant, if surprised smile before making good her escape.

“Charles! You remember Willow. These are her friends, Xander and Buffy,” said Fred, Just in case he’d missed it, she gestured meaningfully with her eyes as she again mouthed “Buffy” with exaggerated care.

“Buf-?” He caught himself. “Hey, Willow. Xander. Buffy. Nice to meet you. Finally.”

They exchanged pleasantries Apologies were made for the disarray of the office. They all trooped down to a more comfortable conference room and ordered coffee. When everybody was settled, Willow explained the situation.

“We’ve pretty much rounded up everybody, but one of the girls is in a secure psychiatric lock up, and I don’t think we made the best impression when we tried to visit before. I thought they were going to forcibly admit Andrew for a while there. I could probably magic us in, but we’re trying to keep a low profile. We thought this might be a job for the legal eagles. So Buffy decided to try Angel. Where is he anyway?”

Charles cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve got a pretty good idea, but we might want to get started on this without him. I’m sure he’d want the firm to extend every courtesy to the Slayer’s organization in his absence. Who knows when he and Spike will get back from questing after the ‘Cup of Perpetual Torment’? Vampires, man.” He shook his head and chuckled.

“Excuse me. Did you say ‘Spike’?” asked Buffy.

Willow and Xander exchanged worried glances.

“Yeah. You know, William the Bloody? His ghost popped out of an amulet Angel got in the mail, a few months back. Fred here has been working on getting him back into solid shape ever since.”

“Charles…” began Fred, watching Buffy’s face drain of color.

“It’s not your fault nothing worked, Fred. We got some great R&D out of it, at the very least. Don’t worry about it,” he said, completely oblivious to the affect his news was having on their guests. “So this morning, Blondie gets a package of flash, and instant undead! Right away everything goes haywire, and it turns out the Shanshu prophecy is having feedback problems due to the presence of two souled vampire champions on earth. Our archivist said that the mixup will be resolved when one of them drinks from the Cup of Perpetual Torment. Fun, huh? So they took off for the desert to find the thing. My money is on Angel, but Spike got a head start.”

He smiled companionably around the table, and only then noticed the shocked looks and dropped jaws of the visitors from the Slayer’s Council.

“Angel didn’t tell you,” he realized.

Three heads shook in unison.

“Spike’s one of yours.” They nodded.

“He’s- he was mine,” whispered Buffy. “My champion.” Under the table, she rubbed her left palm. It was unmarked but tingled at the memory of their last moments together: clasped hands bathed in mystical flames.

Willow and Fred looked at her sympathetically. Xander studied the tabletop.

“I guess I’d better start at the beginning,” said Gunn.

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Buffy sat silent and ramrod straight in the back seat. Light occasionally flashed across her face as they passed gas stations and quickie marts, but once they entered the desert, she was thoroughly cloaked in darkness. Willow had learned to live with silence, mostly, and didn’t try to fill it up. Xander seemed focused on driving, but Willow knew his thoughts were miles and months away. He was in the past, with a lover who wasn’t coming back as a ghost or anything else. She was right there with him.

They finally pulled up to the ruins of the old opera house, incongruously crumbling into the sand. They parked next to two very shiny sports cars. Buffy was out the door and running before Xander shut off the engine.

“How much of this do you want to see?” he asked Willow.

“It’s probably better if she doesn’t have an audience. It’s going to be hard enough.”

“I can think of harder things.”

“Xander, all three of them have come back from the dead at least twice. In some ways, we’re the lucky ones.”

“Yeah? What ways are those?” His head fell back and he regarded the roof liner of the rental car. She tried to think of an answer, but it wouldn’t come.

“C’mon, it’s a beautiful night. Let’s go look at the stars. There could be meteor showers. Maybe our luck will change.”

“Sure. But no wishing.”

+++

Buffy wished she had a flashlight. She wanted to move fast, to get there before it was too late, but she was inching along, one hand on the wall, tripping over debris.

“This is stupid.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her lighter. Spike’s lighter. Until today, she had thought it was all that was left of him, and kept it with her. When she felt his loss most keenly, she held it, feeling its weight and being comforted by its slick coolness and the way her touch warmed it. In the blackest nights, she even cried over it. She hadn’t had much practice with its more useful attributes, though, so now she fumbled to light it. Finally lit, the faint light it gave was just enough to illuminate the more major obstacles strewn before her. She set out with a more determined stride.

The tilted hallway led to a balcony. As she entered from the back, she heard the fight. Heard the accusations.

“…all the dirty little things I’ve done! Drusilla sired me but you... you made me a monster.”

She sped to the front of the balcony, just in time to see Spike drive a stake into Angel’s shoulder. Angel screamed. Buffy looked around wildly for a way down to the stage, heart hammering in her chest. She knew she could call out, give fair warning, but hearing his voice seemed to have stolen her own.

“Probably should've dusted you. But honestly, I don't want to hear her bitch about it,” said Spike.

Spike strolled over to the ugly goblet sitting in a spotlight on top of a pedestal. Buffy tucked the lighter back into her pocket, and shimmied over the rail. She lowered herself until she was hanging from her fingertips and dropped lightly into the aisle below.

She spun just as Angel asked, “Do you even really want it? Or is it that you just want to take something away from me?”

Spike shrugged. “Bit of both.”

He raised the cup to his lips, focused completely on Angel. Buffy vaulted onto the stage and slapped the cup away. Acid green liquid arced through the air, and the cup landed with a clatter that seemed to echo for long minutes in the silence that followed.

Buffy stared at Spike, chest heaving. Spike blinked, his empty hand still raised. He looked from her to Angel and back again. He licked his lips.

“Well. Here we all are again,” said Spike.

So that was the way he wanted to play it. Fine. She jammed one fist onto her cocked hip. Somehow, she found her voice.

“You know, I was just kidding when I said you guys should wrestle it out.”

“Well, this wasn’t about you, Princess,” said Spike, eyes flashing. “Much.”

“Right.”

She turned and stalked over to Angel. She bent and yanked the stake out of his shoulder, none too gently. He writhed on the floor, holding in a manly scream.

“Sorry,” she said automatically. He shook his head and gave her a weak smile through the grimace of pain. She straightened and looked down at him.

“I cannot believe you didn’t call me! What is it with you and phones?” He eyed the stake she still held. She rolled her eyes and dropped it.

“I knew you had a lot on your plate, Buffy,” he said weakly. “Getting your organization set up is a big job. I didn’t want to disturb you unless it was important.”

“Important! This is my team we’re talking about, Angel. Nothing is more important than that. I lost my key guy, and you knew…you knew what that did to me.”

“You didn’t say anything…”

“Because I couldn’t talk! God. Even Kennedy could see I was in shock. Do you even know me anymore?” Angel struggled to sit up.

“What are you doing here, Slayer?” interrupted Spike. “Thought you were tripping the light fantastic in Europe.” She turned back to him.

“The wha? No, I came to LA on Slayer business and that Gunn guy told us about the ghostliness, and some fat lady, and I’m still a little con-“

“No. Why here?” He pointed at the stage beneath his feet.

She glared at him. “Friends don’t let friends drink the perpetual torment, Spike.”

“I see. That what we are, then? Friends?”

She stared at him for a long moment. “How can you even ask that? Of course we’re friends! We’re more than friends! I told you that I…” Buffy paused, and seemed to deflate. “Don’t you think we’re friends?”

Spike heard the tremor in her voice, and it eased him out of his battle-high in a way the sight of her hadn’t. Some of the things she’d said started to sink into a brain set on combat. Perhaps this wasn’t the time to fight. He struggled to shift gears. What had she asked again? Right. Friends.

“Yeah. That’s us. BFFs. Just what I always wanted,” he said.

Buffy’s expression wavered between relief and annoyance. He’d seen that look before. Angel coughed. Spike sighed.

“Alright. C’mon grandpa, time to stop malingering.” He walked over to where Angel had collapsed onto the floorboards again and held out a hand. “Upsie daisy.” He hauled Angel to his feet. “We’ve got to get back to the batcave and see if the labcoats can figure out who’s yanking our chain.”

“What do you mean?” asked Buffy and Angel together.

Once Angel was standing unaided, Spike walked over to pick up the goblet where it lay in the shadows. He ran a finger around the inside of the bowl and touched it to the tip of his tongue. Buffy and Angel both started toward him.

“Yep. Mountain Dew. Good joke,” he said. At their incredulous looks, he shrugged. “Smelled it before. It seems like a lot of trouble to break down the walls of reality for a prank, though. Somebody must really want to annoy you,” he said to Angel. “Besides me, I mean.”

Banner credit: OKDeanna, for the art-to-fic challenge at LJ comm spuffy_wonder.

They slowly made their way out of the ruin. Both vampires were pretty banged up, and Angel’s shoulder injury made climbing back up to the balcony difficult. Spike let Buffy take the lion’s share of that particular load. Her grim expression was enough to keep him from getting in her way, though he helped where he could. He well remembered how she channeled her anger and frustration into physical exertion. He might not be a wise man, but he’d learned that much.

The longer it took to clamber out, the more he felt a haze of unreality over the whole situation. Her scent was in the air, making him feel lightheaded. Her flushed cheeks and swinging hair drew his eye like an oasis would a parched desert wanderer. He wondered if he had really recorporealized, or if it was all a detailed mirage. He was careful not to look at her directly, nor to touch her. If this were the next stage of his ghostly torment, he didn’t want to do anything to hasten the end of the illusion.

As they emerged from the building, Willow and Xander slipped off the hood of their car.

“Hey!” chirped Willow. “All accounted for! Hi Angel! Great to see you, Spike! Didn’t expect that when I got up this morning.”

“Red,” said Spike, suddenly finding himself with an armful of witch. The affectionate gesture was wholly unexpected, and the sudden contact helped to snap him back to the here and now. She gave him a brief hug and a wide smile, and quickly stepped aside.

“So, how’d the torment work out for you guys?” she asked.

“The torment was a bust,” supplied Buffy. “Fresh out of the perpetual. We’re all going to have to make do with the regular kind.”

“Too bad. Angel,” said Xander with a nod. “Mr. The Bloody. You did good. Welcome back.”

He stuck out his hand, and Spike slowly took it.

“Harris.” They shared a firm handshake before Xander retreated to the car. That exchange surprised Spike even more than had Willow’s hug.

“I’d better get that back to the lab,” said Angel, pointing at the goblet.

“Oh. Right.” Spike handed it over without argument.

Angel gave him a hard look. Spike shrugged.

“So,” said Willow, clapping her hands together. “I guess we should all just meet back at Fred’s lab in the morning. M’kay?”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” said Angel. He looked around, but after getting no response aside from a few nods, he limped over to his car and drove off.

“Um, guys? I’m gonna ride back to town with Spike, if that’s okay,” ventured Buffy. She turned to look at Spike. “Is that okay?”

It was downright astonishing, is what it was. He wasn’t sure if it was okay or not, but he shrugged.

“Whatever you say, Slayer.” She frowned.

Willow and Xander announced they planned to stop for breakfast before heading to the rendezvous. Buffy slid into the Viper’s passenger seat and watched the others’ taillights disappear. Spike bent down and rested his forehead on the car’s roof for a moment before taking a deep breath and opening the driver’s side door. He folded himself into the seat and rested his hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead.

“Hey.” Buffy cleared her throat. “I’m really glad you’re not dusty.”

“Beats the alternative, I’m told.”

“There’s more than one of those…” Her face fell. “Oh, god, you weren’t in heaven, were you?”

He lifted a brow and slid his eyes in her direction. “Angel’s office? Hardly.”

“Oh. Good. Not that I don’t want you to end up in heaven!” She slumped forward. “Why is everything coming out wrong?”

“Maybe because you never expected to see me again? Didn’t have your speeches ready?”

She turned in her seat to gape at him. With arms crossed, she settled back against the door. He mirrored her position, raising his eyebrows expectantly. She narrowed her eyes.

“Aren’t you even a little happy to see me? I thought we had a … connection.”

It was a challenge and a plea. She wanted reassurance, he could tell. Didn’t trust her own perceptions. Didn’t want to let her down, but he couldn’t stand to live last year over again. Better to get to the meat of things right away. He was a big vampire; he could deal with reality. He’d just have to make it easy for her. It couldn’t hurt any more than say, losing a limb, could it?

“Buffy. Slayer. I’ll always be happy to see you. Always. Just don’t want you to feel obligated to follow up on anything you said in the heat of the moment.” He couldn’t look at her anymore, so he slid his eyes over to the windscreen. “A fellow goes up in a blaze of glory, it’s bound to make a girl feel grateful and all, but you don’t owe me anything.” He waited for her tearful denial or grudging acceptance. And waited some more. Finally, she spoke.

“Are you serious!?” Ah. Neither then. Full of surprises, his Slayer. He eyed her warily.

“Well, yeah. It was brilliant, what you said, but I won’t hold you to it.”

“Gee, thanks, Spike,” she said in a tone more acid than relieved. She fell silent, fuming.

He couldn’t see how she could be truly upset with him for releasing her. It was the right thing to do, even if it did about kill him to get the words out. But she clearly had something to say. He waited for it. It didn’t take long.

”Look, I know you’ve seen me at some pretty low points, but when exactly have I ever given you the impression that I’m a, well, a whore?”

His eyes snapped to hers. “What?”

“Have I ever doled out my affections for services rendered?”

“Now, Slayer…”

“No. Seriously. In all the years you’ve known me, have I ever once said, Hey, Big Boy, if you just throw yourself in the way of this itty bitty apocalypse, I’ll make it worth your while?” She batted her eyes in a terrifying approximation of a coquette. “Or said that I’ll love you forever—or even for the next couple of hours—if you’ll just rescue my damsely self from the distress of the week?” Suddenly the car seemed much too small to contain all that righteous fury. “I’m not that girl, Spike! You, out of everybody, should know that! If I say I love you, you’d better freaking believe it!”

The Viper rang with her words.

“Oh.”

“Yeah: ‘Oh’.” Her anger seemed to seep away. He waited for the next curveball.

After a minute, Buffy said, “Let’s walk.” He nodded.

Banner by OKDeanna for the art-to-fic challenge at the Spuffy_Wonder LJ community.

Buffy climbed out of the car and set off toward a little rise in the distance. Spike loped along at her left, feeling unsettled by her sudden calm. It was possibly more disturbing than her anger. He wondered if he needed to be here for this. Surely she would work it all out on her own. Finally she spoke.

“I did love you, you know. And I loved that you did that amazing thing for all of us. Alright, maybe I loved you partly because you are the kind of man who could do something like that. That’s just part of who you are. But it made me really mad, too, because then you weren’t there anymore. And it made me sad. There was lots of sad, buster!” Spike listened carefully. Loved. Past tense. He nodded.

“Sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

They lapsed into silence and trudged on through the arid landscape. After a few minutes, she spoke again.

“It took awhile, but I figured out why you didn’t believe me. I know I should have let you know how I felt. With diagrams, probably. But that would have meant I actually knew how I felt. Which isn’t always totally clear to me. I thought there would be time to figure it out, after.”

“But then you died, Spike! Dust! Dust at the bottom of a crater with almost every other thing I’d ever cared about. You think I didn’t save you every night after that? Didn’t think of a million ways to make you believe me? But you were gone, and all the epiphany-thingies in the world wouldn’t bring you back.”

“I’m back now,” he ventured.

“Yes. And I think you’re trying to tell me I’m too late. You’re back and there’s no slow motion running through the—“ she looked around. “—scrub. You haven’t touched me. You’ve barely said a word. I can take a hint.”

She halted at the top of the rise, and looked out at the starlit horizon. He could see her huge eyes, brimming with hurt. He hated to see it there, but a small part of him loved it. Loved having the illusion that he had some power in this. It wouldn’t last. She’d realize that it was wrong, that she only wanted what she shouldn’t have. Once she had it, she’d be sorry. Be ashamed of herself and wander off with yet another ‘Sorry, William’. Suddenly he was the angry one.

“Jesus, Buffy! What am I supposed to do here? You’re standing there, and it almost sounds like you’re offering up my fondest dream. All glittering and glowing and just out of reach. It’s a joke. I can only have the carpet yanked out from beneath me so many times, you know?”

“A joke?” She bristled. “You think saying all this stuff is easy for me? Because it’s not. For once, I’m being honest with both of us. Why can’t you just…”

She looked at him with renewed intensity. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. He wrapped his coat more tightly around himself. The elements didn’t bother him, so it was something else entirely that he was warding off. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid?” He snorted. “Me? There isn’t much that can hurt me, Buffy.”

“I can. I have. Plenty.”

“Yeah, well, did my part, as well. That’s all over and done, right?”

“God! Are you trying to piss me off? It’s like you think the minute you let yourself believe that we have something, it will all come crashing down!” She paused. “Which, okay, after living on the Hellmouth for a few years, might not be an unreasonable thought.”

They shared a wry smile. She shook herself.

“It doesn’t have to always end in premature death or desertion, does it? I’m only going to be 23, Spike! This can’t be all there is. I mean, it hasn’t always been like that for you. You were with Drusilla for a hundred years and nobody died.”

He looked at her incredulously. “Oh. Well, yes…I guess they did. But it wasn’t either of you! You had a love affair with a loon for a century. Don’t you think that maybe we could have, I dunno, a fraction of that? Why couldn’t we have 10-25 years — with bonus sanity?”

He ducked his head. “Are you proposing?”

She huffed. “Fine. Joke it up. I just thought maybe you cared.” Her lip trembled and she blinked rapidly. He ached to comfort her, but even more he wanted to make sure they both understood exactly what was on offer here. He shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets.

“I do care, but I’m not joking, Buffy. I really want to know what you want from me. I used to think I could suss out what you needed, but lately I haven’t been sure of much. So just tell me, what are your intentions? You want a friend? A trusty lieutenant in the world-saving racket? A willing slave?” He spread his hands out, begging for an answer.

She closed her eyes. “As much as part of me likes that ‘willing slave’ option — way, way too much — what I really want is something real. Something that works. For both of us.”

She reached out to twine her fingers with his. The contact was electric. Like the last time they’d touched, in the cavern beneath Sunnydale, everything seemed to fall away. He tried to focus on what she was saying. Might be important.

“I love you. You’re a good man. I’d like for you to be my man.”

He looked away from their hands, struggling to keep from drowning in this deluge of sweet words and sensations. To keep her from making a terrible mistake.

“Not a good man. I’ve only been back a few hours and I’ve already done some things I’m not proud of. Still a monster, Buffy. Always will be. Why would you want that?”

“I’ve got my reasons.”

She reached into her pocket, retrieving something and holding it out to him. He glanced down to see his lighter resting in her palm. He looked at it with wonder. She’d kept it with her, all this time. He’d really meant something to her. She’d missed him.

“There’s always been light in your darkness, Spike,” she said. “That’s something I want. Tell me what you want.”

She looked up at him, and what he saw in her eyes destroyed his objections. There she was, open to him, not running away. She was asking him truly, with enough concern that he knew it wasn’t a spell or any trick. In that instant, he was lost. All his defenses crumbled to nothing.

He felt all his love for her rush to the fore. He couldn’t hide it under a bushel a moment longer. He half expected her to turn away when faced with the strength of his feelings. If anything, her eyes shone brighter, her smile more dazzling. This woman saw him, and accepted him anyway. It felt like a miracle. His amazement turned to awe.

“Oh. Wow,” breathed Buffy, gazing up at him.

He smiled.

“What do I want? Hmmm. Might need to give it some thought.”

He leaned down to kiss her upturned lips. She melted. He burned, and this time the fire in his chest felt like a balm.


It ain't over yet! To be continued in Epilogue: Bumps in the road (or, Oh no, he di'int!)

Banner by OKDeanna for the art-to-fic challenge at the Spuffy_Wonder LJ community.

They made it back to the Wolfram & Hart parking garage before 10 AM, after a latte stop. Scotland might have great honking castles, but drive-through cappuccino was still a far-off dream, and he’d been happy to make them a reality for his girl. After a sweet, foamy kiss in the elevator, he reluctantly let their clasped hands part. They peered around the elevator doors. No telephone chaos today, and nary a bloody teardrop in sight. They stepped out into the lobby, Buffy heading up the stairs toward the lab, while Spike made a beeline for Angel’s office.

“Blondie Bear!” trilled Harmony as he passed her desk. She tottered up to him on her ridiculous heels. “There you are! I’m so sorry I flipped out on you yesterday.” She started to fiddle with the collar of his coat. “Oooh. Look at that bite. If you want, I could kiss it all better. Finish what we started. Same time, same place?”

“Don’t think so, Harm,” he said, snatching her wrists and pushing her hands away. Too late. Buffy had changed course as soon as she heard Harmony. She stood just feet away looking at them both with murder in her eyes.

“Buffy! Hi!” said Harmony, an instant before the situation sank in. As soon as she realized that she was facing a very unhappy Slayer, she eeped, and backed away rapidly. “I’d love to catch up, but I’ve got to get down to HR, pronto! Great to see you!” She fled.

Buffy turned her laser eyes on him.

“Am I getting this right? You’ve been back in your body for less than 24 hours, and you already managed to get it on with Harmony?”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. He thought of apologizing, explaining, and possibly groveling, but in the end, he went another way.

“It wasn’t ‘getting it on’, it was a…hello.”

Her expression said, “Bastard!” more clearly than words. He wondered if this romance would be the shortest of his — soon to be ended — unlife. He was sure she had some stakes hidden in places that even his thorough search during their make out session in the Viper had missed.

He beckoned for her to follow him into the conference room. Once inside, he closed the door and turned to face the music.

“I don’t like this,” she ground out, glaring ferociously.

“Wouldn’t ask you to.”

“You’re not going to throw other stuff in my face are you? This won’t work if we get into some endless tit-for-tat spiral.”

“Tit-for-tat.” He arched a brow.

She glowered. “You know what I mean. We’ve got history. History I’d really not like to repeat. It’s not like I’ve never messed up with an ex, but I don’t want to keep going down those roads. Can we just be even?”

He took a chance and gathered her hands into his. She didn’t pull away.

“Not hardly. ‘Even’ is a silly idea. I’ll never be worthy. But I can promise to never make that mistake again.”

She searched his face and seemed to find what she wanted there.

“So…fresh start?”

“Fresh start,” he agreed.

She dropped into a chair. He hitched a hip onto the corner of the conference table. She took a deep breath.

“So, did you have any plans, now that you’re a solid citizen again?” she asked. He considered this.

“Had a lot of time to think, but didn’t have anything definite in mind. Thought I’d failed to breathe my last, you know? Thought I might try to track you down in Europe, but that’s right out.”

She grinned. “I always mess up your plans.”

“That you do.”

They smiled at each other. Buffy’s eyes grew bigger.

“Huh. I think we just had a fight. And nobody got punched. It’s a brave new world.”

He chuckled. “Day’s still young, Slayer. But, yeah, feels different. Good. You’re quoting Shakespeare, for one thing.”

“I am?”

He kissed her soundly. It was a brave new world, indeed, and they’d face it together.

FIN