The sun plunged below the horizon, shrouding the cemetery and adjoining town in darkness and leaving only the moon to illuminate the lone figure.

Buffy stared at the freshly covered grave of her mother. Loneliness surrounded the petite blonde, although her mind was whirling, thoughts flying jumbled, not allowing her a moment’s peace. She had not moved from this spot, knowing that when she did, reality would strike and leave her more isolated than ever before.

A short distance away, a shadow detached itself from the trees. He moved slowly, careful not to make any moves that the Slayer might mistake as threatening. Unsure of his welcome, he thrust his hands deep in his pockets to hide their unexpected tremor as he stepped up next to her.

“Hello, luv, do you mind some company?” Spike asked. In spite of his own grief over the loss of a good friend and a damned fine lady, he was prepared to offer comfort if she would only let him.



“I guess. This is a free cemetery after all,” Buffy responded. She flinched at the harshness of her reply, shamed by how easy it was for her to be rude to him.



“Look, if you want me to leave, I’ll just…”

“No, I’m sorry. Stay. You have every right to say goodbye to her, too. Willow gave me the flowers you brought over to the house last night. They were nice; mom always liked wildflowers. Thank you, Spike.”

He relaxed at her side. “I wanted to give them to you or the Niblet personally, but the Whelp wouldn’t let me pass. I should have bit him and suffered the migraine anyway.”

Buffy frowned. Willow hadn’t related Xander’s actions to her. She could only imagine the things he might have said to the blonde vampire. A surge of irritation swept through her at their callous behavior and she found herself reaching for Spike’s hand and giving it a sympathetic squeeze.



“Okay, gross imagery aside, thanks for not eating my friend.” Buffy wiped her tear-filled eyes. In an unexpected move, she tugged on his hand, leading him to a nearby tree before sitting on the ground. With a sigh of appreciation, Spike sat down next to her.



“So, how are ya holdin’ up, Slayer?” he asked with concern.

“The funeral was…it was brutal, but it’s tomorrow that I’m worried about,” she sighed, imagining the worst.



“Tomorrow the stuff of everyday living resumes. You just need some time. I’m sure the Scoobies understand.”

“Time’s not the issue. I can stick wood in vampires…” Spike winced at that. With a ghost of a smile, Buffy continued, “…and deal with umpteen apocalypses a year, but Mom was the strong one in my life. Like with Dawn; what am I going to do if she gets in trouble at school? What will happen when she wants a boyfriend and I need to have “THE” talk with her? I don’t know if I can do that. Mom always knew how to make things better. She always knew just what to say.



Buffy stared off into the distance, remembering the patience and kindness her mother always seemed to have in abundance. “She even liked you. She told me about the nights you used to come over to talk.”

“Yeah, well I bet you had a right laugh about that,” Spike muttered, embarrassed. There were a lot of times that the only person he could talk to was the Slayers’ mum.

She shook her head slightly. “Not really. I thought it was kinda sweet, and I know she liked having someone to talk to.”

“Dawn’s troubles will be all right. You should just worry about ’em when you get there,” he commiserated. He looked down with a start of surprise when Buffy leaned comfortably against him and rubbed her cheek against his arm.

Buffy closed her eyes, breathing deep and enjoying how at ease she felt with her former enemy. It was easy to confide her insecurities to Spike, knowing that he would never interrupt and always be honest with her. He could see the truth of her; Spike always knew her better than any of her past boyfriends or her current friends. Everyone expected her to be strong and brave, but right now, she didn’t feel pressured. In fact, during their conversation, Buffy had relaxed so much that her head was resting trustingly on his shoulder.



Spike was in heaven. That was the only explanation that he could think of. Here he was sitting with the woman he loved on a moonlit night while she confided in him ! Their conversations generally leaned towards violence; a punch to his nose…an elbow to his ribs…a kick to his head. Now she was sitting calmly beside him, sweet smelling and approachable.

Turning slightly until he faced her, he angled his head down slightly, careful not to startle her. Searching her questioning eyes, Spike tilted his head the tiniest bit and leaned in until his lips touched hers in a tentative kiss. He had no expectations from this contact, only the desperate hope that she would not pull away. Memories of their last kisses coursed through his head, and encouraged by her stillness, he slowly slid his tongue across her bottom lip.

Buffy sat in quiet surprise, not quite sure what to do. Spike was kissing her and the idea wasn’t causing her near as much disgust as she’d once thought it would. She deepened the kiss slightly, opening her mouth for his questing tongue. For the first time that day, Buffy’s anxieties subsided, leaving in their wake pure exhilaration and an eagerness to match Spike’s.



Spike tried to hold back a moan of pleasure at her participation in the kiss, but was unable to. Encouraged by his response, Buffy slid her hands up to rest on the curve of his neck and allowed her fingers to play with the softness of his hair. Backing off for a moment, Spike lightly nibbled the corner of her mouth and gave Buffy an opportunity to breathe.



“Is this all right, Slayer?” He needed to make sure he wasn’t taking advantage of her grief.



“Do you want to stop?” she panted, eyes still closed.

“Not bloody likely, but I also have no great desire to be a pile of dust when you realize who it is you’re kissing.”

She opened slightly dazed eyes to look at him. “I know who you are, believe me. If I didn’t want you to kiss me, do you think I couldn’t take you?” She smiled wryly, hoping that he could hear the teasing inflection in her voice.

With a cocky grin, he acknowledged her attempted joke. Buffy had the power to break him, not only physically but emotionally as well. He had an inkling that she knew that. Spike gathered her closer to his body with a slight tug to her waist so that she ended up straddling his hips.

“Yeah, luv, you could at that,” he whispered. “Let’s just see who can take who.” With that statement, he covered her lips once again with his own.

At the edge of the cemetery, a long, black convertible with a lone passenger pulled up. The driver’s searching glance fell on Buffy sitting beneath the tree, but was unsure of what he was witnessing. He started to get out of the car, but stopped in his tracks when Buffy moved slightly, allowing him to glimpse a figure with a shock of platinum blonde hair beneath her.

Angel was stunned. He didn’t want to believe what his eyes were telling him. He realized that since Spike wasn’t clutching his head in pain, that whatever was occurring between his former love and his grandchilde was mutual. Remembering the warning Buffy had given him to let her make her own decisions, he put the key back into the ignition with a resigned sigh.



“Damn, I should’ve been here sooner,” he muttered sadly as he started the engine and turned his car back in the direction of Los Angeles.

Spike glanced at the retreating vehicle over Buffy’s shoulder with an evil smirk. Hope he got an eyeful. Serves him right! He slowly dragged Buffy’s body back to a more comfortable position.

“He’s gone,” Buffy panted out, lightheaded with pleasure. She rested her forehead against Spike’s shoulder, waiting for the world to right itself. The kisses they shared while under Willow’s spell had become dim memories for her, but not any longer. Now they were back with a vengeance, bursting with intense heat and color.

“You knew the Poof was here?” Spike demanded. He wasn’t sure how she’d react to having Angel see her intimate with anyone, especially him. He was expecting more tears and anger, maybe a swift punch in the nose. What he got was her practiced “duh” look as she rolled her eyes.

“Vampire Slayer here, remember? Since I can feel any baddies within the area, I knew the second he pulled up. Which, *gasp*, was right before you hauled me over your lap,” she informed him with a pointed look.

“And you’re not mad?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her placid expression.

“Nah, I’m actually kinda glad. Always with the, ‘Buffy, you can’t do this’, and ‘you can’t do that’. At least now Angel won’t be trying to butt his way back into my life.” She looked at him, her forehead crinkled with disappointment. “Hey, what’s with the talking? Come back here, we’re not finished with the kisses!”

The little smile that bloomed across her tear-ravaged face before she kissed him again was the closest thing to a sunrise that the vampire had seen in many, many years. With a groan of satisfaction, Spike eagerly surrendered himself to his fate.