Author's Note: Thank you to Diabola for beta-ing this fic, and to everyone who has been encouraging me not just with this story, but the others too. Please keep at it!

Cara Mia - Chapter Four

Spike dusted himself down and watched the two young women tear from the graveyard, a heartfelt sigh heaving from his chest. He should have known it wasn't going to be simple or easy; nothing between him and Buffy ever had been.

Gods, though, it had been worth it. For all the pain, the torture, the times when she'd treated him like a personal punch bag, it had still been worth it just to hold her in his arms and pretend that she was his and that they belonged together. He was aware of the irony of his words to the soldier boy years before.

"To be that close to her and not have her. To be all alone even when you're holding her...."

Somehow, he didn't think that even soldier boy would find his current situation amusing though, as much as 'Hostile 17's' suffering had seemed to be Finn's raison d'etre for months.

'But you did get to hold her and have her,' he remembered. 'She was right there with you, giving as well as taking.'

During those fraught last days leading up to the final moments of Sunnydale, Buffy had finally opened up to him, letting him see all of her, not just the hurt and the anger. The hopelessness of their predicament had proven to be the catalyst which allowed her to show the full range of her thoughts and emotions, crumbling the wall that she had constructed out of guilt, shame and confusion.

The night before the destruction of the Hellmouth and the town that stood on it, it had felt as though she had finally exorcised the ghost of Angel and given herself permission to love again. To love him; to love Spike. The blond vampire hadn't questioned her about the kiss he'd seen Buffy share with Angel because despite anything the First might have whispered, he knew the truth. Buffy had been bidding farewell to her first love at long last, and Spike had hoped that she had done it as much for him as for herself.

'Till you decided to go out in a blaze of glory. Literally,' he thought ruefully. The blonde vampire pulled out his cigarettes and lit one as he tried to figure out how he was going to get close enough to an extremely volatile Slayer to find out if she still wanted him.

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Dawn's tears coursed down her face as she stripped her demon-soiled clothing from her body. How could Buffy be so stupid? It was as though she didn't want Spike to be back, although the younger girl knew that wasn't the case. Dawn had heard her sister's grief-wracked sobs late at night, even though Buffy had gone to great lengths to hide the loneliness Spike's death had caused.

The teenager had resented the blonde's self-imposed isolation - Buffy didn't seem to realize that Dawn too missed the vampire who'd been the closest person to a father she'd ever really known. Not like Hank, who honestly hadn't given a damn, even after their mother's death. Spike had been the only one who understood what she was going through the summer after Glory, the only one who knew how alone she'd felt without Buffy, because he felt exactly the same way.

The anger and anguish ebbed from her body as she crawled onto her bed, reaching for a pillow to wrap her arms around before sleep overtook her.

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Buffy was faring little better than her sister. Lowering herself into the bath and lying back, all she could think about was the sensation of the shape shifter's arms around her, holding her so tight that its excitement had pressed into her lower back. That moment had been so reminiscent of her fights with Spike she had truly believed the Powers That Be had granted the wish she carried in her heart wherever she went; the wish that she could have more time with the vampire who had waited so patiently for her to be ready to love him.

Buffy pursed her lips, compressing them into a tight line as she attempted to master her emotions.

'Stop having lusty thoughts for this weird, face stealing demon,' she told herself. 'It's not Spike, no matter how much you might want it to be.'

Disobediently, her body ignored her. It didn't seem to care that it hadn't really been the platinum blond vampire in the graveyard tonight,; it simply reacted to the promise of him. He'd always had that effect upon her, sometimes just the knowledge that he was nearby was enough for desire to rush through her and override all other considerations until her lust was slaked.

Predictably after the encounter tonight, her nipples were swollen and hard, her lower body wet and throbbing in anticipation, and Buffy's frustration was nearly unbearable.

It wasn't just a physical need, however. Since Willow had ripped her from eternal rest, Spike's arms had been the only place where she had found enough peace to sleep restfully, his steadfast love and care for her allowing her simply to be herself, not the Slayer, not a big sister, not a general. For Spike, just Buffy was enough.

Tears began to fall from her eyes, tracing a path down her cheeks to drip into the bubbles floating on the cooling water.

Not a day went by when she didn't miss him, didn't think of something she wanted to share with him.

She had tried to fill the void in her life and heart with the Immortal who took her to fun clubs and restaurants, showed her beautiful galleries and museums and told her fascinating stories of his past. In the small hours of the night, however she knew she was kidding herself, just like she had been kidding herself with Riley. She was marking time with a man she didn't really want because she wasn't strong enough to admit the truth. She knew she would always be in love with Spike, and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.

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Across the city, the Immortal stood in a candlelit room, examining the components he'd been able to assemble so far, his storm grey eyes narrowed in thought. He was so close to his goal, but time was running out. Before him, set on a small mahogany table, were nine jars, each holding the heart of a vampire of different lineage, and to one side, an athame carved from obsidian.

His fingertips traced the runes inscribed along the blade and handle as he contemplated the ritual he was preparing. His dalliance with the Slayer had almost served its purpose, but he was alarmed by the fact that the two vampires possessed of souls had come to Rome. It had been foolish to toy with them, he supposed, but he had been unable to stop himself.

Having asserted his superiority over them decades ago, he should have let them retrieve the head they had been here to collect, and allowed them to leave as suddenly as they'd arrived. When they had nearly run into him with Buffy Summers, however, he simply couldn't resist flaunting his conquest of the young woman - perhaps a less than wise impulse. Even though he was confident he could best them both, nevertheless it simply wouldn't do for the girl to reunite with an old lover at this late stage in the proceedings, .

His agents reported that Angelus had flown back to America that evening, but had made no mention of William the Bloody, which was of somewhat greater concern. The Immortal knew that Spike still held sway over the Slayer's heart, and if she discovered he was walking this world once again, it could cause complications. He would have to ensure that the girl's attention was otherwise engaged, and fortunately, he knew all manner of ways to accomplish that.