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Authors Chapter Notes:
Italics=internal monologue.

Hey!!! Thanks to all ya'll who voted for this story at the Spark & Burn Awards, cuz it won for best comedy/fluff!! :D

...Rachel isn't too up on the technology so she can't put the loverly banner up, but here's the linkage :

http://spark.jaded-paradise.net/R4winners_art.htm


Spike blinked his eyes and cringed as he braced himself for the dragon’s fiery blast. When it didn’t come, he opened a cautious eye. The bloodied battlefield was gone, and in its place were a bright yellow road, numerous flowers, and a farmhouse that looked as if it had been dropped from the sky. He instinctively ducked under his duster, but realized that if this sun planned on setting him on fire, it would have done so instantly. Peeking his head out of the duster after waggling a nervous hand in the direct sunlight, Spike steadied himself as he basked in the glory of sun, regardless of what world said light was from.

Where the bloody hell…

A shaken blonde woman stepped out of the crashed house in a blue and white-checkered dress and a pair of sparkling red pumps. Her green eyes filled with tears as she turned and noticed Spike staring at her.

“Oh my God…Spike?”

Spike’s mouth hung agape, as his eyes traveled over her frame.

“Buffy? Pet, is that you?”

“Yeah…I think. I don’t…I don’t know…am I dead?”

“No, love, unless I am too….”

“But you are.”

“Yeah, har har. Vampire jokes are so last century, pet.”

“No, I mean, like, really; dead, dead. At the Hellmouth.”

“Oh…right. Came back.”

“You what?”

“Came back, love. Been working with the Poofter.”

Buffy’s kick was fast and hard. Spike flew down on the brick road with a ‘thud.’ He rolled to his side, coughing.

“Ow! Bloody hell, Slayer! What was that for?”

“How long?”

“You of all people should know that, pet,” he said with a smirk.

She walked over, calmly, and kicked him in the stomach, but his pain subsided as his eyes ventured up her gingham skirt.

“Lovely knickers, Slayer.”

She shut her eyes, ignored his last statement, and sighed.

“How long have you been back?”

His lusty gaze fell into a sad, reflective stare.

“Ah…been back a while, love…‘bout a year.”

Buffy moved toward Spike again, who flinched instinctively, expecting another kick to the stomach. Instead, Buffy collapsed onto the road next to him, her hands in her face, and her eyes flooding over with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I…did…did you even try to find me?”

“Buffy, pet, you were better off without me.”

“And why’s that,” she asked, her forgotten fury building again. “I love how everyone decides what’s best for me without even thinking that maybe, just maybe, I’d like to run my life for a change.”

Buffy stood up, flustered, and walked back to the crashed farmhouse, leaning on it for support as her shoulders slumped forward. When she began to sob, Spike’s heart felt as if it was breaking, and he moved to her side, swiftly.

“Buffy, love, don’t cry…come on now, Slayer…buck up. It isn’t all that bad, is it?”

She turned angrily to face him, but her rage faded into a deep sadness as she caught his gaze with her own.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through this past year? I haven’t…uh…I can’t even function in my life anymore. I feel so lost…all I can do is go on assignments and kill something, then head back to whatever dank accommodations the Council sets us up in, then sleep until the next assignment.”

“Us, pet?”

“Me, Xander, Andrew, Willow, and some of the potentials. We’re basically a ‘kill squad’ now. Giles and Dawn are in England heading up the new Council. I hate it. After everything happened with you, I wanted to give up…but they wouldn’t let me. I didn’t even get a chance to mourn…or…rest…nothing. They just decided that I needed to keep fighting anything that passed us by, and if nothing passed by, I needed to go find something. I just….”

Buffy again broke down into a heap of tears. Spike scooped her up into his arms, and stared into her tear-filled eyes.

“ ‘m sorry, pet. I don’t know how else to say it. I’m a fool for thinking you were better off without me, yeah?”

She nodded and sniffled.

“Andrew…Andrew said that when Angel was in Rome, he ran into the Immortal and me…”

Spike’s face dropped.

“Yeah.”

“You were with him, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s why you didn’t try to find me after that, isn’t it? You thought I was off with the Immortal?”

Spike shrugged in an attempt to mask his heartbreak.

“Couldn’t hold it against you, pet, I was dead, you got over it, and you looked happy.”

“Happy. Right. Describe how I looked, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, pet, you were all dolled up and hanging all over him, and you looked…chipper…and bouncy…and….”

“Bright eyed and bushy tailed?”

“Yeah, I guess that about sums it up.”

“And when was the last time you ever saw me look like that?”

Spike’s eyes darted back and forth, as if reading first-hand accounts of Buffy’s antics in his mind. His mouth dropped slightly as he laughed.

“It wasn’t you.”

She smiled.

“Nope.”

“Another Buffy-bot, yeah?”

“Yeah. With how much experience you had with the last one, shouldn’t you be able to distinguish between the two of us?”

“Oh, lay of it, Slayer.”

She grinned, wiping the tears off of her cheeks.

“Can’t help it. You’re too easy a target.”

She snuggled her head into the nape of his neck and breathed in his scent.

“I’ve missed that smell, Spike. I tried to take up smoking to at least have something smell like you, but I about coughed up a lung. And I usually wear a leather coat,” she said, staring at her dress for a moment, “but everyone decided to have a costume party, and Willow made me dress up.”

Spike’s eyes began to tear up, but he held back.

“Buffy, love, I’m….”

“You already apologized. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I have to make it up to you, pet.”

Spike kicked in the farmhouse’s door and entered it, in search of the bedroom, and an intact bed.

--




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