The weeks after Buffy’s birthday had been almost heaven to Spike, there was no sign of Angel and Buffy had ranted at him one night about how “impossible” her former boyfriend was and how mad he had made her. He had offered meaningless words of support for her sake, whilst inside his heart had swelled with joy that Angel was no longer on the scene. Aside from this life in Sunnydale had progressed peacefully, well as peacefully things could on a Hellmouth. That is until this particular Friday night rolled around.
 
He gathered her into his arms, he could hear her heat beating—so still alive, “Buffy, wake up pet. Come on, love, open your eyes,” he pleaded with her unconscious form. He could smell her blood and he knew that if he could so could every other vampire in the vicinity. He had to get her out of here it was not safe, they were far too easily surrounded here.  Picking her up he carried her carefully to his crypt where he lay her gently on a sarcophagus. As he drew his arm out from under her he saw the smear of blood. Carefully rolling her to the side he examined the wound; a nasty bump, the cut wasn't too bad but it was running blood freely as head wounds are inclined to do.

It had all happened so fast, he reflected. They'd come across a nest, nine vampires in total. Most of them were little more than fledglings; no problem, nothing the Slayer and him couldn’t easily take on. Everything had been going well, and with only three to go he had dusted his one and turned to watch as Buffy took out hers. He loved to watch her fight … she was amazing. Just as the Slayer’s stake had taken her opponent out in a cloud of dust the remaining vamp had decided that fleeing was a far better option than fighting. As he had taken off he'd barrelled into the Slayer and knocked her to the ground. Normally she would have been up in an instant and in pursuit, however her head had connected hard with the corner of a gravestone. Nothing more... something so stupid and so unbelievably simple had left his Slayer unconscious, her precious blood pouring out across the ground. If he had not been there she would be dead and that, more than anything he had faced in his almost a hundred and fifty years of existence, terrified him! He had stepped forward to intercept the fleeing vampire and consumed with fury he'd ripped its head from its shoulders. Before its dust had even settled he had moved quickly to kneel at the Slayer's side.
 
Heading to the fridge he retrieved an icepack before jumping down to the lower level where he grabbed a clean t-shirt which he then proceeded to tear in half. Folding one half of the t-shirt he pressed it firmly against the wound and then applied the icepack over the top of that. With his spare hand he softly stroked her cheek talking quietly to her all the while, trying to pull her out of oblivion and back to him.
 
After a while her eyelids fluttered, then opened. “What..? Where am I?” she focused on the face before her, “Spike?”
 
“'S alright, pet. You took a nasty blow to the head, but I got the bastard for you," he added with a grin. She struggled to sit up and he admonished her gently, "Shh just lie still. You had me worried for a while there love. Thought I was gonna be stuck with a sleepin’ beauty here.” The smile he offered her was tinged more with relief than humour, despite his effort to lighten the mood.
 
“Oh. You know how the Prince woke Sleeping Beauty up, don’t you?”, she teased.
 
His blue eyes twinkled as he replied, “Think I do pet, yeah.”
 
To her surprise he took their usual teasing and banter a little further than she'd expected, leaning down he brushed a kiss gently against her lips. Her breath caught as his soft lips pressed a little more firmly, deepening the kiss. Her arm snaked out to reach around his neck and pull him closer. A longing moan sounded softly in his throat just before he recoiled, rapidly pulling away from her, “Oh god, Buffy. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
 
Buffy got up quickly and attempted to follow the rapidly retreating vampire but was hit hard by a wave of dizziness. Stumbling she reached towards him and he moved to catch her in his arms rather than allow her to fall. She leant into him and looking up into his worried face she breathed, “Spike, please …. don’t stop.” She reached up for his kiss. “Buffy!” whispering her name like a prayer he gathered her closer, kissing her deeply, his hands stroking her back in gentle circles.  His mouth moved along her jaw kissing softly as he travelled down her neck murmuring endearments between kisses. He nuzzled gently into her neck near her collarbone, “so beautiful,” he murmured.
 
Spike pulled back to look at her, his eyes shining with love. Hers were glazed, her lips parted and soft, waiting for his; he had never seen a more beautiful sight. Moving slowly he lowered his head to kiss her again and then stopped, lingering for a moment with his mouth so close to hers that he could taste her when he breathed.
 
Buffy closed the remaining distance between them and kissed him achingly, pressing closer to him as her hand snaked behind his head, her fingers curling in his hair and gently stroking the soft locks that she freed from their gelled imprisonment.  She moaned against his mouth as his tongue brushed against her lip before gently caressing hers. Her breath caught and her heart swelled in her chest, filling with love and a longing so exquisitely painful that it brought tears to her eyes. “Spike,” she breathed, “Oh, god,” tightening her arms around him she leant deeper into his embrace. They kissed and stroked, their bodies reaching for each other, their mouths exploring, tasting, cherishing. Eventually they pulled away slightly to stare into each others eyes.

“Buffy, I love you,” Spike confessed, his voice breaking with emotion as the words poured out before he could stop them. He ducked his head to hide the raw need, terrified of what he might see in her eyes; shock, horror, revulsion, he couldn’t bear to see those things, he hadn’t meant to lay his heart on the line.
 
Buffy reached for him and cupping his face tenderly with her hand she stroking it softly as she sought his eyes with hers, “Spike, look at me,” her voice barely more than a whisper. “I love you too,” she assured him when their eyes met, hers swimming with brimming moisture, “I love you. I can’t believe it took me so long to realise it,” she ran her thumb lovingly along his cheekbone, her hand warm against his face.
 
His eyes widened in amazement, before filling once more with love. An urgent moan escaped as he gathered her to him once more and kissed her deeply.
 
Their bodies reached for each other aching for more contact, needing to be as close as possible, “Spike, make love to me,” Buffy breathed against his mouth.
 
His heart ached with love and longing at her words, unneeded breath caught in his throat and his eyes blurred as tears brimmed with the force of the emotion that hit him. Pulling back he looked at his love, his beautiful Slayer, so alive, so vibrant, and so young! He longed for her, wanted nothing more in all the world than to make her his. However, he knew also that he loved her enough to wait for her, for however long she needed. He didn’t want her to feel this was something she needed to do for him.

“Buffy, love, there’s no need. I love you, will wait forever for you. Just knowing you love me, that’s enough!” His voice was soft, loving, and thick with need.
 
“Oh God, no, Spike, I don’t want to wait. Want you. Need you. I want to make love to you more than anything in the world.” Her eyes sought his, pleading with him to know how much she loved him, and how very much she wanted this.
 
At her words a low growl formed deep in his chest, scooping her up into his arms he pressed her close to him, kissing her lovingly as he carried her down to the lower level of his crypt.
 
Hours later, they lay wrapped in each others arms; exhausted, blissful, and content. Spike softly stroked her hair whispering words of love for his beautiful Slayer as she snuggled into his chest.