Buffy lay curled in a tight ball, protecting her aching heart. Her tears had finally tapered off, leaving behind tight, itchy eyes, a swollen face, and a sore body. She longed for oblivion, but it was not forthcoming. Instead, images of Spike danced across her mind’s eye, the years flashing by in a disjointed jumble. He was telling her she was the one, devastated as he realized she’d shut him out of her house, writhing under her touch and begging for more, looking at her with eyes shining with adoration, looking at her with eyes as cold and hard as ice.
 
She screwed her eyes shut and whimpered as a new series of scenes assaulted her. Her imagination worked overtime, presenting her with the sight of Illyria sighing in pleasure as Spike’s hands wandered over the god’s body, worshipping her breasts, his mouth on her clit as he showed her a new kingdom over which to reign. Buffy desperately wanted to erase the visions from her mind, but a far more insistent part believed that her torment was nothing less than what she deserved for admitting that she loved him too late, for not recognizing what she had in him while there was still a chance for them, for hurting him.
 
Fresh pain exploded in her chest as she realized that he really hadn’t believed her admission of love in the Hellmouth. She’d spent the past year consoling herself—trying to convince herself—that, despite his last words to her, he’d at least died knowing that he was loved, but it was a just lie that she’d deluded herself with. She’d not even given him that comfort in the end. She’d given him nothing tangible, nothing so significant that he would know what she meant to him, that together they could have something worthwhile and real. If she had, they would never have been here. He would have come to her as soon as he’d returned to the world.
 
A keening wail escaped from her throat, followed by hoarse mutterings, neither of which she was truly aware. “Oh, god. Oh, Spike, I’m so, so sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.” All the apologies in the world couldn’t bring Spike back to her, couldn’t make him love her again, but she desperately wished that she could tell him that her last words to him in the Hellmouth had been sincere. It wasn’t for her sake as much as it was for his—he deserved to know, deserved to understand the depth of emotion that he inspired. He hadn’t felt that, she knew, ever. Not with Drusilla, and certainly not with her. Although just the thought of him choosing to be with someone else tore her apart all over again, she hoped that he felt loved by Illyria, strange as she was and as much as Buffy wanted to snap her stupid blue neck.
 
Her body had begun to shake when Spike’s arms encircling her from behind startled her. “Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay, I’m here. Oh, Buffy. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry love, I din’t mean it, any of it.”
 
She twisted in his arms and clutched at the fabric covering his shoulders. She would have questioned his sudden appearance had her mind been clear, but she was too filled with grief to process more than the fact that she was being held in arms that she’d thought never to feel surrounding her again. “Spike, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t better for you, that I didn’t prove it so that you would believe me, but I swear I was telling the truth down there. I—I don’t want anything from you… Okay, that’s not true. We both know that’s not true, but I don’t expect anything, and I just want you to know how amazing you are, and if—if she’s smarter than I am, she’ll let you know every second of every day how much she appreciates you, because you deserve that, and I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t give you what you deserve.”
 
His arms tightened, and his eyes became glassy. “Oh, God. Buffy, I believed you. I swear I did. Oh, sweet girl, what have I done? You haven’t been going through this this whole time, have you?”
 
She shook her head. “Just… Just sometimes. You believed me?”
 
“Of course I did. Those aren’t words you fling about, even to a dying man. I jus’ wanted you out of there, to go and live.”
 
He was confused when she seemed to pull back from him, curling further into her shell. “So it really was just me. Or, was it her? Is she that much better than me?” She squeezed her eyes shut, appalled at herself, and shook her head. “Don’t answer that. I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”
 
Spike’s brow wrinkled. “What’re you on about? What ‘her’?”
 
“The Illery-whatsit. Downstairs.”
 
“Blue? Buffy, what in the world made you think I’m with Blue?”
 
“Angel said so. Then she called you—called you her pet, and said what great stamina you have. Which is, you know, true, but how would she know that unless…”
 
Spike growled low in his throat. “I swear, I’m gonna dust that wanker. An’ then I’m gonna flush his dust down the soddin’ toilet.” He took a deep, unneeded but calming, breath. “Buffy, I’m not with her. How could I be with anyone else, when I’ll love you for as long as I live? I told you, you’re in my heart, my gut. I’ll never get over you.”
 
She shook her head, stubborn. “No, because she said. He said. And you didn’t… And why would he say if it wasn’t true? And why wouldn’t you?”
 
He cupped the back of her head, urging her to lay it against his chest, and kissed her hair. “Buffy, Illyria’s a god. When she… came here, we needed to see what she could do, what her limits were. I was, let’s say, volunteered to spar with her. That’s what she meant by the stamina thing. There’s never been anything else, yeah? The pet thing is because she’s got a soddin’ ego bigger than Glory’s, if you can believe it, and she decided that she liked kicking my arse so much that she’d take me as a… pet punching bag.” He hesitated over what to say about Angel before sighing and plunging in. “Your former’s had a tough year or two, not that it’s any great excuse, and he’s… well, can’t say as he’s changed. He’s always been a great wanker. He’s just lettin’ it show more now, ‘s all. He’s jealous, love, of you and The Immortal, of you and me, of just plain you. Maybe he thought you’d run back to him, or maybe he just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t run to me.”
 
Buffy stilled, thinking it over. Of course Angel would be jealous. She had told him that she loved Spike—or at least, she thought she’d told him; those days after the fall of the Hellmouth were pretty hazy in her memory. Then she’d set him up to see her with The Immortal in an attempt to make him leave her alone. So, yeah. Angel with the big jealous. She could see that.
 
But that still didn’t answer the question of why Spike hadn’t wanted her to know that he was back.
 
“Okay, yeah, Blue? That’s what you call her? She’s demented enough to be staring at a freaking fake plant. So say I buy the pet thing and all that. And yeah, Angel’s got a pretty big jealous streak, and it wouldn’t be the first time he lied. But, Spike, why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you find me, tell me that you weren’t dust anymore?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
 
His thumb stroked over her cheek. “When I first popped out of that soddin’ amulet, the first thing I asked about was you. Then I tried to attack Angelus.” He looked down, sheepish. “Didn’t work. I fell right through him, landed in the middle of his desk.”
 
“Huh?”
 
“I was all ghostly, pet. Couldn’t touch anything, kept fading out of existence. I tried to go find you, anyway, but every time I tried to leave Los Angeles, I’d pop right back at Wolfram and Hart. I was tied to that buggering trinket, and as I couldn’t pick it up, take it with me… And all the time, I was bloody terrified about what was happenin’ to me. I thought that I was going to fade into hell. Then, I’ve got that git telling me that you’re better off without me, and that you were finally leading the life you’d always wanted, and fuck, kitten, the last thing you knew about me, I was a bleeding hero, dying for the sake of the world. I wanted you to remember me like that, not like some tragedy who couldn’t even touch you and who didn’t deserve you—deserved to go to hell.”
 
Buffy’s eyes had grown huge during his spiel. “So what happened? How come you’re not ghosty? And…” She smacked him on the chest. “I’ll decide who gets to deserve me. That’s not your decision. I mean, if you, you know, want me.” She glanced to the side, afraid to look at his eyes. “If I’d known… I would have helped. And if you’d gone to hell, I’d have gotten you back. I… I was convinced that you’d go to heaven after that kind of sacrifice.”
 
He pulled back from her, eyes wide with disbelief. “Pet… You know me, what I’ve done. How… How could you think…” His arms tightened around her. “Monsters don’t get to go to heaven, love. They go to hell. ‘S where I belong.”
 
She snorted. “Says who? You’re a hero, Spike. Even before the Hellmouth-burny-badness, you’ve been a hero for a long time. You’ve saved lives; you’ve protected people. Me, Dawn, the Scoobies, complete strangers. You got a soul.” She scowled at him when he snorted. “No, it’s true. A soulless, self-labeled evil demon went and got his soul. Don’t you know how huge that is?”
 
“Buffy, the only reason I got a soul was for you. I didn’t want to hurt you, ever again. I thought I could give you what you deserve. It was only after that I realized that I could never be what you deserve. It wasn’t out of the goodness of my heart, it was selfish.”
 
A wry smile twisted her face. “What could be less selfish than love?”
 
“Look, you dozy bint, I’m telling you—”
 
“You’re getting all shirty again.” She rolled her eyes and plowed on when he attempted to interrupt. “If you were just being selfish, why did you stop? You could have just kept on. I was injured; I couldn’t have held you off if you were really trying to hurt me. If you were really being so damn selfish, you would have, I don’t know… Turned me, or something. Made me into a vamp, dependent on you. See, even before you got the soul, you weren’t as bad as you liked to believe you were.”
 
“Stop making me out to be saintly, pet. I was evil, make no mistake. Still am. A soul an’ a few saved lives don’t make up for over a hundred years of killin’.”
 
“Yeah, okay. You were evil. But you were trying. That’s what makes the difference. Even more, you were trying without any kind of encouragement, or support, for the most part. That makes it even more special and important. And, what? You think Angel can seek redemption, but you can’t? Spike, you saved the entire world. There’s what, five or six billion people in the world? That’s more than a few saved lives. And, and Angel’s doing it for some kind of mythic reward! You do it because…”
 
“I do it because I love you, Buffy.”
 
Her eyes shone with tears, love, and not a little bit of awe. “Yeah. You love me. And that’s… That’s a better reason than Angel’s, or—or mine. I do it because of duty, because I’m compelled to. For so long, I just wanted a normal life, free from my duties, from world save-age, from slaying and apocalypses and thanklessly risking my life every night. And the first chance I got, I tried to take the normalness that I wanted. Yeah, okay, it didn’t last very long. I mean, first I was too busy mourning you and everyone else we lost. And then…” She looked sheepish. “I got so bored, Spike!”
 
A quick laugh escaped his lips. “Coulda told you that woulda happened, Slayer. You’re not meant for normal.”
 
She shrugged slightly. “Maybe not.” She released a long sigh and tucked her head under his chin. “So… Are we…okay?”
 
His body trembled, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, pet. We’re okay.”
 
“Good. Spike?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“I love you.” Her voice was slightly muffled against his chest, but her words were plainly audible to the vampire’s ears. She held herself still, a little fearful of his reaction to her words. When he didn’t respond for a few seconds, she pulled back to look at him, and was startled to find tears streaming from his eyes. She wiped tears from his cheek with unsteady fingers and smiled gently. “I love you, so much.”
 
“Oh, Buffy. God, I love you, too. Love you so much, my sweet girl.”
 
Her smile widened, and she closed the space between them, her lips meeting his in a sweet, chaste kiss. He tasted of tears, whiskey, and Spike.
 
“Oh, god. God, Spike, missed you. Missed you so much. Wanted to die without you.” She murmured the words against his lips between small kisses.
 
He groaned and traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, gratefully delving in when they parted for him. Hands mapped the contours of each other’s bodies, caressing, teasing, inflaming. The hazy thought that they had more to talk about before taking this step fluttered across her mind and made its way to her lips, but was dismissed when he shifted so her body lay under his.
 
His hands roamed up her sides to her neck, thumbs stroking her cheeks. She bunched his shirt up and tugged on it, trying to draw it up and over his head. He moved back to accommodate her, his gaze almost hesitant. “Buffy? Are you sure, love?”
 
She blinked at him, her mind lost in a fog of rising desire. “Huh?”
 
“Are… Are you sure that you’re… That we’re ready for this, pet?”
 
“Oh, god, yes.” She frowned. “I mean… Unless you’re not sure. I mean, I can wait if that’s what you want. I’m not—I don’t want to just use you. I mean, I want…” She trailed off, uncertain. “Spike, if you don’t—if you… If you want to wait…”
 
He shook his head, smiling slightly. “Jus’ wanted to be sure that you’re sure. Don’t want to bollocks this up.”
 
She nodded her head vigorously. “I’m sure. Very, very sure. I love you. You love me.” She grinned. “We’re in love. I could come apart at the seams; I feel like I’m bursting.”
 
His smile widened. “Well, in that case…” His fingers trailed to her waist, drawing her blouse up and exposing her golden skin. He trailed light kisses over her flesh, smiling against her as he felt her shiver.
 
Before she was fully aware that her breasts were exposed, he’d latched his blunt teeth over a nipple and sucked. Her eyes fluttered shut and she gasped, a dreamy smile gracing her lips. She tugged on his arms, silently requesting that he move up. He let go of her nipple with a plop, bestowing a soft kiss upon it before claiming her lips. Tongues danced and teeth teased and nipped as they fell into the kiss.
 
Spike’s hands lifted to cradle her head. Her thoughts swam hazily, her mind capable of nothing more than Must. Have. Now. Her fingers moved of their own volition, exposing his waist and popping the buttons on his jeans. He groaned as her hand fisted around his cock, pumping his already hardened flesh. He pulled back from her and fumbled with the fastenings of her jeans, hands shaky with passion and need. He growled low in his throat when the garment finally gave way, and her lacy underwear quickly followed.
 
She blinked and blushed prettily when she realized that she was fully exposed to his lustful, predatory eyes. With a growing smile, she reached for him again, drawing his shirt over his head. “Make love to me, Spike. Now.”
 
He groaned and sank into her. Gone were half-formed plans of using his tongue and hands to stroke her into a screaming inferno of sensation. All that was left was this. It was homecoming, completion.
 
They shuddered together as his cock came to rest fully within her. Their foreheads met, and their souls rejoiced. Slowly, he began rocking against her, twisting his hips just so, causing little gasps and moans.
 
“Oh… Spike, love you. Love you.” She chanted the words to him, to herself, her voice taking on a keening edge as his hips sped up.
 
“Buffy… Missed you, love you, never let you go.” He panted against her neck, his muscles strained with tension. “God, Buffy. So hot, so tight and wet for me.”
 
“Just for you. God, just for you, Spike. Oh! Right there, so good!”
 
Her pussy started to quiver and pulse around him, signaling her impending orgasm. He clenched his teeth against his own, but the sharp prick of her nails digging into his shoulder and her voice keening into his ear, combined with the sweet pleasure of her muscles tightening around his cock, swept him over the edge with her.
 
He collapsed against her, and for interminable moments, the two simply relished the feel of being together. When his senses came back to him, he smiled ruefully and rolled until they were lying on their sides, facing each other.
 
“So much for stamina. Meant for that to last longer, pet.”
 
She snickered, squeezing him close to her. “We've got all the time in the world, sweetie.”
 
 
 
TBC