A/N: Spike's poem taken from AtS episode "Not Fade Away" written by Jeffrey Bell and Joss Whedon. The other poem is mine,
and I know nothing about writing poetry, so if you think it stinks, that's why.

^^^^^^^^
Buffy used her Slayer strength to pedal home, getting there in half the time as it had taken her to get to the Immortal’s office. She immediately picked up the phone and dialed England.

“Rupert Giles, please.” Buffy waited for the secretary to patch her through.

“It’s Buffy. We need to mobilize in LA, pronto. Angel’s gotten into something. The Black Thorn Circle or something.” …“That sounds right.”… “We’re going because his team needs our help. This is beyond Wolfram and Hart.”… “No, there’s another reason. Spike’s alive. He was a ghost at first, then became corporeal a few months ago.”… “No, I don’t know, and I don’t care. He’s been working with Angel…” …“Look Giles, I don’t have all the details. He and Angel were in Rome last week, and the Immortal sent them on some wild goose chase trying to keep them away from me.” …“Don’t you dare say ‘I told you so.’” …“I’m going to him, and I’m taking Dawn. I want Willow, Xander and all the Slayers who are willing, and I’d like you, too.”… “Giles, haven’t you learned to trust me by now? I just KNOW, that’s all. We need everyone who fights for our side. Willow just perfected that teleportation spell, right?”… “I’ll get the lowdown when I get there and let her know. You two can work out the logistics, okay?” …“Thanks, you, too. I’ll call when I get there. And Giles?” …“Thank you for trusting me.”… “Okay, bye.”

Another quick phone call, this one to Willow, then she packed bags for herself and Dawn. Next was a note for Andrew, and a call for a cab. She got Dawn out of school and they were on the first flight to LA they could find.

^^^^^^^^

The flight was uneventful and the minute they got their bags they caught a cab to the home of Willow’s LA contact, Marlene. She’d be doing the locator spell and was letting them stay with her.

Dawn stroked Buffy’s back as her sister reached into her pocket for a personal item of Spike’s. It was the skull ring from their “engagement.” Buffy was never sure why she kept it, but now she knew. It would lead her to him, and hopefully a future together.

Sure enough, a glowing dot appeared on the map under the Wiccan’s slender hand.
“He’s at Rocco’s. Oh, dear.”

“What do you mean, ‘Oh, dear?’” Dawn panicked, gripping Buffy’s hand.

“It’s a tough bar down in Long Beach. It’s got quite a reputation…it’s rather a redneck crowd, I’m afraid. I’ll drive you, you go get Spike, and then we’ll come back here. My home is protected from both electronic and magical surveillance and we can speak freely here.”

“Crazy vamp is probably looking for a fight. Let’s go, then.” A stake found its way into her hand and they piled into Marlene’s car for the short trip to Long Beach.

^^^^^^^

Said crazy vamp was drinking shot after shot, trying to get up the nerve to do what needed to be done. Finally, it was time. The house lights dimmed and the raucous conversation died down. He made his way to the stage and walked into the spotlight, grabbing the microphone.

"My soul is wrapped in harsh repose,
midnight descends in raven-colored clothes,
but soft...behold!
A sunlight beam
cutting a swath of glimmering gleam.
My heart expands,
'tis grown a bulge in it,
inspired by your beauty...
effulgent."

A heartbeat, then two passed and a wild cheer went up from the crowd.

“Yeah!”
“Way to tell her, bro!”
“You rock!”

Spike smiled, a genuine, if not a bit tipsy smile, and responded. “Wrote that for a bird named Cecily; she ripped my heart out right after she heard it.”

“Bitch!”
“She’s not worthy!”
“You’re better off without her!”

“Okay, lads, settle down. She’s ancient history. Here’s one I did for my last girl.

She lives in the sun;
The moon is jealous.
The moon knows her, sees her, wants her.
The moon gives her strength.
The sun gives her beauty and life.
The moon gives her death.
The moon knows the sun will always win.”


More whistles and cheers followed him as he left the stage. He’d actually done it, and now he could go on his second suicide mission in as many years knowing he’d conquered one last fear. He was headed for the exit, enduring the back slaps and high fives of his fellow slammers as he wove through the crowd when a familiar scent tickled his senses.

He paused in mid-stride and his nostrils flared as he scanned the room. Strong arms encircled his waist from behind and he felt a soft, female body press into his back.

“Spike,” she breathed into his ear. His eyes closed in remembered pleasure and he whirled around to face her.

“Buffy,” he sighed, and opened his eyes. Surely she was an illusion, a figment of his imagination. He’d just been thinking about her so strongly that he was creating this, and when he opened his eyes all he’d see was the crowd filling the bar.

Sure enough, there was the stage, and the audience, but lowering his gaze, there she stood. He touched her, and she was real; solid.

“Buffy?” Her hands were still on his waist, and she moved them to his hips, pulling him closer.

^^^^^^^^^
10 minutes earlier:

Buffy left the car and walked up to the club. It looked just like what it was, a skanky bar with blacked out windows and neon announcing the drinks of choice. Buffy took a deep breath and entered.

As she stood, letting her senses adjust to the dim atmosphere, she noticed that it was unusually quiet, except for one voice. A very familiar voice; a British accent in a rich baritone that made her quake with desire. Spike. Her eyes swept the building and she saw him on the stage. Was he reciting poetry? She could barely make out the sign behind him: Poetry Slam. Well.

She listened, then heard his explanation. Oh yes, Cecily. He’d told her about that during one of their few tender post-coital conversations. Guilt came roaring into her consciousness as she thought about that year. She’d been terrible to him, and she was hoping that they could make a fresh start right now. Ooh, wait. The deep, thinky thoughts were pushed aside for a moment as she realized he was reading another one.

She trembled as she recognized the subject. Buffy was pretty sure he was talking about her. If he really felt that way then she would need to work extra hard to win his heart. All she wanted was a chance to prove that she was worthy of his love.

The audience was cheering and applauding now, and she let her gaze wash over him as he made his way through the crowd and straight towards her. She moved out of his line of sight and doubled back behind him. She could tell when he’d scented her, and she stepped directly behind him, arms encircling his waist.

^^^^^^^^^
“It’s me,” she whispered on his lips, and then they were kissing and he was drowning in her scent and her softness. They were brought back to reality when they could hear the crowd cheering.

“Hope she’s better than the last one!”
“Thatta boy!”
“Dude! You rock!”

Buffy grinned against his lips. “Let’s get out of here,” she purred suggestively, pulling him away from the crowd and towards the door.

Once they were outside Spike backed Buffy up against the wall and covered her with his body, their lips getting reacquainted. When Buffy stopped for a breath, Spike pulled away slightly.

“How?” was all he asked.

“My ex told me.”

Spikes eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Angel? I thought he’d never…”

“No, not Angel.” Spike tilted his head in that adorable manner and gave her a questioning look. “The Immortal.” She smiled as she waited for him to make the connection.

It took him half a second to figure it out. “You broke up with that wanker then?”

“Soon as I found out about you.” She pulled him closer for another kiss and reluctantly released him to continue her story. “I overheard him talking to some demon about the wild goose chase he sent you and Angel on when you were in Rome last week. He said he was trying to keep you away from me and didn’t want me to know you were back.”

Spike made a harrumphing sound in his throat and she continued.

“He knew how I felt about you; how much I loved you. You were a threat to him; he knew if I found out you were alive that I’d come after you.”

“And here you are,” Spike said with a smile, running his finger across her jaw.

“You should have seen the look on his face when I walked into his office. And I didn’t make a scene or anything. I was so calm. I told him he hadn’t been fair to me and I’d be coming to LA right away and that he shouldn’t wait for me to come back.”

Spike chuckled. “Serves the bloody ponce right.”

Buffy cleared her throat. “Now it’s your turn. Why didn’t I hear the good news from you?”

Spike had the decency to look sheepish. “Ah, pet, it seems rather stupid now.”

Buffy just pulled back from him and crossed her arms over her chest.

“At first I was a ghost. One minute I’m burning up in the Hellmouth, then I find myself in Angel’s office.”

Buffy nodded. “I heard about that.”

“I didn’t want you to see me like that. I couldn’t leave LA either; every time I got to the city limits I found myself back at Wolfram and Hart. Then one day I got an exploding package in the post and I’m solid and undead again. Turns out that was just a ploy to get Angel and me to kill each other.”

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked.

“There was a cup, we were told. Drink the contents and become human. We fought and I won. I beat him, Buffy. You know how many times he’s kicked my ass? I wanted it more, this time, for you.” Spike lowered his eyes and took her hands in his. “So I drank it, and nothing. It was a cup of sodding Mountain Dew.”

He raised his eyes to meet hers again. “Then I was all set to come to Europe. Even had a boat ticket in my hand, but…”

“Go on,” Buffy urged softly.

“I was afraid. Of rejection, of not being good enough.” He dropped her hands and began pacing in a short line. “I died, Buffy, saving the world. How could I top that? I didn’t want to come to you the way I left. I wanted to be better for you.”

“The poem, the one you just read. That was about me, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

“You’re an idiot, Spike.” He stopped his pacing and looked at her with shock and hurt in his eyes. “You should have told me. Let me decide. You should have known…you know how much I hate it when the men in my life make decisions for my own good without giving me the chance to say anything.”

“I know, Buffy. I didn’t think…but Angel needed me then, and asked me to stay, after a fashion. I saw a higher purpose; the good I could do…he’s not the enemy, you know.”

“I’ve heard differently.”

“Yeah, there’s a battle coming.”

“And I’m helping.” She put a finger to his lips before he could protest. “Let’s go. I know where we can talk about this,” she pressed herself against him once more and nibbled his lips before giving him a firm kiss, “and get reacquainted.” She led him across the street where a car was waiting.

The front passenger door was thrown open and he was bowled over by a teenage bundle of energy. “Spike!” Dawn squealed, throwing her arms around him and holding on tight.
He returned her fierce hug and pulled away from her.

“Look at you, Niblet. Growing up nicely, aren’t you then?” He reached out to touch her hair, still long and shiny, and soft as a feather.

“I can’t believe it’s really you! We were so upset…Buffy was crying every night for you…”

“Okay, Dawn, that’s enough,” Buffy said, a bright blush tinting her cheeks. Spike turned and smirked at her, a knowing look on his face.

“So you missed me then, Slayer?” he drawled.

Buffy ignored him and introduced him to Marlene. As they all settled into their seats, Buffy flush against Spike in back and Dawn up front, Marlene explained that she had magical shields and wards around her home, making it safe to hold sensitive conversations there. On the ride, Spike told Dawn about his return and the goings on at Wolfram and Heart since he’d arrived.

He shared how moved he’d been by Fred’s dedication to making him corporeal, and the loss they’d felt when Illyria had killed her and taken over her body. He told them about Cordelia’s brief resurrection and death, knowing that it would be relevant in their upcoming conversation about Angel’s plan.

Buffy finally asked the one of the questions he’d been dreading since he saw her.

“What were you doing at a poetry slam, Spike?”

Dawn’s mouth gaped as she regarded him in the back seat. “You were at a poetry slam?

“That’s not the best part, Dawnie,” Buffy said, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “He was reading. Up on the stage. In front of everyone.”

“Bloody hell, Slayer,” Spike moaned, his hands covering his face. “You wanna stop and shout it from the rooftops, too?”

“Why not? I love you, Spike, and I’m proud of you. I’ll tell anyone who cares to listen.”

The car was silent as its occupants digested that bit of information. Spike was overjoyed that Buffy had finally declared her love for him and in a very public manner. Buffy was incredulous at having Spike back. Dawn was relieved, for two very good reasons. Buffy had been unbearable since Spike had died saving the Hellmouth, and now she could be happy. And now she’d get a chance to apologize to Spike for being mean to him the previous year. He’d deserved it at the time, but even as he’d started changing and showing his sincerity for helping, Dawn had still ignored him. Marlene concentrated on getting them all home safely, but her inner romantic was gleeful that the two lovers had been reunited. She’d have to think of ways to occupy Dawn tonight to they could have some privacy.

TBC