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Authors Chapter Notes:
As will become obvious almost immediately, this is no longer official canon. It was written long before Season 8 and After The Fall were ever published, so just think of it as happening in some parallel universe somewhere.


VIGIL

By-White Avenger

Rated-PG

Summary-After NOT FADE AWAY, Spike goes to Rome…

Disclaimer-That other guy owns it all. I just use his characters.



There were certain advantages to keeping watch on an apartment located above a quaint little café in Rome. For one thing, Spike didn’t have to hide under a big oak tree all night, and then slip away before sunrise. The alley across the street and two doors down was in shadow almost all day, and some artistic rearranging of several large wooden crates allowed him to watch without being detected. And so he watched. He’d been here for a month now, keeping in the shadows, simply…WATCHING.

Her actions were so regular that he could set his watch by them, if he’d ever bothered to wear one of the silly things. Every morning at precisely nine, she came out the front door, climbed into her little Fiat, and drove away, intent on whatever she did during the day. By five that evening, she was back, most times loaded down with books. She would carry her literary burden upstairs, then come back down and have dinner in the little café, usually sitting at one of the outside tables. Half an hour later, she would return to her apartment, where she would remain until sunset.

As the sun was going down over the Eternal City, Buffy would reemerge, dressed in dark clothing, carrying a small pack, and begin her nightly patrol. That had surprised Spike the first night he’d seen her do it, because Italy was the most demon free country in the world, thanks to the Vatican’s vampire hunters. After the first night, however he had come to realize that what he thought of as her “patrols” were nothing more than evening walks through Rome’s back streets. Of course, old habits die hard; hence the dark clothing and weapons pack.

One night as Spike followed the Slayer on her evening stroll, she’d been accosted by a gang of six muggers, who mistakenly thought one little girl, all alone on a dark sidewalk, would be easy pickings. The thrill of watching his Slayer go through her attackers brought an ache of nostalgia to the vampire. He almost came out of hiding to compliment her work before he reminded himself that she wasn’t supposed to know he was here. She wasn’t even supposed to suspect he was ALIVE.

He would follow her home at the end of her patrols, return to his alley, and stare at her window when the light came on. He could imagine her moving around in there, going about her nightly ritual of preparing for bed, then extinguishing the lights. Sometimes, Spike could see the soft blue glow of the television set as she watched late into the night. At last, that light, too, would go out, and he would know that his Slayer was safe in bed for another night.

Sometimes, before retiring for the evening, she would stand in the darkened room, staring out onto the street, invisible to any passersby, but clearly visible to a vampire with enhanced night vision. One night, she’d stood there for almost a half hour, wearing next to nothing, before turning and moving away from the window. Spike felt almost like a voyeur, hidden down there in the darkness, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying the sight of the beautiful little Slayer. It had been so long…

On half a dozen occasions, the vampire had walked all the way up to her door, and a couple of times had almost knocked, before his courage would desert him. If it weren’t so pathetic, it would be comical. William the Bloody, scourge of Europe, killer of two Slayers, veteran of more than one apocalypse, frightened to face one little girl. So, here he stood, looking up at a darkened window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl he lo…

“Spike, how long are you going to keep this up?” The voice he would know anywhere came from behind him.

“B…Bu…Buffy? UH…hello, pet. Bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh?” he managed to stammer, turning to face the quite obviously less than happy Buffy.

“Spike, you’ve been out here for the last two weeks, mooning around like a lost puppy.” the little Slayer grumbled. “Were you EVER going to even let me know you were here? I’m the Slayer, remember? Slayer instincts, Slayer senses, all that whole package. I can sense the average vamp at fifty yards, and I can recognize your presence at a hell of a further than that. Add to that, just how many people in Italy smoke Marlboros and leave the butts laying around so anyone could find them? You’re about as good a stalker here as you were back in Sunnydale.”

Hands on her hips, Buffy walked around Spike like a platoon sergeant inspecting a new recruit. “Just why would you come all this way, and then spend two weeks lurking around…”

“I’ve been here for a month, pet.” The vampire said quietly.

“…like some burglar, scared to come up and…A MONTH? YOU’VE BEEN HERE A MOTHER LOVING MONTH, AND YOU HAVEN’T EVEN…”

“I didn’t want to interfere with your new life, Slayer.” Spike insisted. “I was just going to be sure you were happy, then I…”

“Damn you, Spike, it’s bad enough that you spend the better part of a year hanging around with Angel without even giving me a call…”

“Andrew talked, didn’t he?” Spike asked. “I knew the little twit couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Yes, Andrew talked. He’d barely gotten off the plane before he was dancing around me yelling, ‘Spike’s back! Spike’s back!’” Buffy’s voice rose in anger. “Do you know it took Willow, Faith, and three junior Slayers to keep me from strangling Dana when I found out what she’d done to you?”

“Then,” she continued, “the ONE DAMN NIGHT I go out with that egotistical pedophile, the Immortal, because he had information we needed, you and Angel have to come calling. And to make matters worse, that idiot Andrew tries to make you jealous with tales of my great romance with that same Immortal. When I found out what he’d done, I broke his nose and threw him out of my apartment.”

“I hear about a damn apocalypse in Los Angeles, with you and Angel in the middle of it, two days too late to do anything about it, of course, and ARE YOU EVER GOING TO KISS ME, YOU STUPID VAMPIRE?!”

Spike was surprised, but not so surprised that he didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to pull his Slayer into his arms for a long passionate kiss, distinctly salty in taste, due to the tears both were shedding. After as long as Buffy could go without breathing, she pulled away from her vampire’s lips, and, her arms circling around his neck, she looked up into his deep blue eyes. “You know, of course,” she whispered, “that this in no way gets you out of the ass kicking I’m going to give you later for waiting so long to come for me.”

Spike grinned down at her. “I guess I’ll have to take my punishment like a man, then, love.”

“But all that’s for tomorrow,” Buffy said, taking him by the hand and dragging him toward her apartment building. “As for now, let’s go home. My cookies are burning.”

“You’re baking COOKIES at this time of night?” Spike asked.

“Never mind,” Buffy shrugged. “It was a lame metaphor anyway. Now, tell me, what happened with your apocalypse?”

“Well, see,” Spike began, warming to his subject. “We were in this alley; rain’s comin’ down like pourin’ water out’ve a boot…”



THE END

A/N—This is one of several stories I’ve written concerning the reunion of Buffy and Spike. You might say it’s an obsession with me. I prefer to think of it as…”every night I reunite them…”




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