Author: Holly (holly.hangingavarice@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17 (for language and sexual situations)
Timeline: Goes AU during Season 6’s All The Way
Summary: It’s Halloween, and Buffy is tired of lying to herself, especially in a world that has already killed her twice. She takes Spike up on his offer for patrol, embracing a celebration of the demon-dormant holiday that will forever change her life.

Disclaimer: The characters herein are the property of Joss Whedon. They are being used out of respect and admiration for entertainment purposes, and not for the sake of profit. No copyright infringement is intended.

Part One

Admittedly, she knew it was a bad idea.

Very bad.

Though, to give herself credit, since her reemergence into the land of the living, the clause of very bad seemed to follow her wherever she went. And usually, she ended up near the vampire in question. The vampire that was staring at her in surprise with those moon eyes that made her weak in the knees—weaker than she’d ever admitted to herself.

Well, in the before time, actually. Before the unfortunate dying incident, acknowledging Spike’s moon eyes or his kissable lips or his endless devotion was really not on the up of things that a good vampire slayer was supposed to consider.

The rules had very much changed since Willow decided to rearrange the odds and ends of life and death. The look in Spike’s eyes was welcome. It made her feel loved, whereas the others looked at her as though she was valuable. As though she was a commodity, or a thousand other ugly scenarios she envisioned as their justification for tearing her out of paradise.

She’d gone to see Angel, hoping for more of the same that Spike was giving her now. What he gave in a glance. What he gave in something so small, so precious, that it made her feel like facing all that she’d faced was worth it if only to keep him looking at her like that.

Angel’s eyes were cold in comparison. She’d spent the entire weekend wishing for Spike in front of her, and that confused her more than anything.

Confused her, but didn’t scare her. Not anymore. Spike was with her now.

Spike had become her best friend. How strange was that?

Thus far, he’d given no indication that he expected anything from her in return for his kindness. He hadn’t come onto her, or told her he loved her, or made like he wanted to chain her up in his crypt. He’d simply been there. He’d shared booze, let her cry on his shoulder, told her that it was okay if she wasn’t all right, and offered to take out the Scoobies more than a few times.

He’d never made like he expected anything in return, whereas Willow kept looking at her like she wanted to be thanked for what she’d done.

Spike let her be herself, no strings. She loved that.

She found she loved many things about him. Strange how death could do that; open her eyes to things that had once seemed so taboo and made her realize exactly what she needed.

Still, she wasn’t about to press. She refused. She didn’t want to take advantage of the friendship he offered; didn’t want to chance that the love he’d once proclaimed had transformed into a softer affection. She didn’t want things to get weird between them. If she made an ill move, it could cost her the one sanctuary she trusted, and life would become unbearable.

Buffy knew her people-reading skills sucked. Dying hadn’t helped much in that department.

Especially with vampires that loved her.

Angel had loved her, but didn’t now. She saw that, and it didn’t bother her. She didn’t love him, either. They were different people, and seeing him, especially after death and resurrection, had only confirmed that.

Spike was an enigma. She’d never have him figured out.

Except for the fact that he tended to leap out of dark places just when she needed him the most.

“Bell. Neck. Look into it,” she said, biting back a grin. It was so nice to see him, if only to escape the insanity upstairs. Anya and Xander’s sex life was really nothing she wanted a crash course on.

Spike smiled a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come with a nice leather collar, does it?”

“What are you doing lurking down here?”

The vampire held her eyes for a minute, then shifted guiltily and released a deep sigh. “Came through the tunnels.” He revealed a handful of vines. “Runnin’ low on burba weed. Stir it in with the blood. Makes it all hot an’ spicy.”

Buffy frowned and turned, placing the box Anya had handed her down.

“What?” Spike retorted defensively. “I was gonna pay for it.”

The petulant ring in his voice brought the grin she’d tried to conceal out of hiding, and she favored him with a long look when her gaze met his again.

Unfortunately, the stubborn vampire didn’t take her silence as good-natured affection. He rolled his eyes and huffed a sigh, shaking his head as though disappointed with his own shortcomings. “I mean, no. I was gonna nick it, ‘cause that’s what I do. I go where I please an’ I take what I want, an’ what’s your excuse, anyway?” He nodded to the roof, where Anya’s Halloween party raged on. “I thought you’d had it to the brim with customer service.”

Buffy’s eyes went comically wide. Guh. Was that ever the understatement? Her customer service days were so of the past. “One-time deal to help out. And I mean straight time. No loop-de-loop mummy hand repeat-o-vision.”

Spike nodded, and he looked so understanding that she wanted to forget all else and curl up in his arms. He was the only one that got her. The only one. The others looked at her like she would break if the wind blew too hard. Not Spike. Spike looked at her like she was a gift. As though every prayer he’d ever whispered against his being had been answered, and she was there to provide his life with light.

Her friends didn’t understand, and she didn’t expect them to. They just smiled and nodded and talked about how strange she was when she wasn’t in the room. How she wasn’t grateful for the sacrifices they’d made in raising her.

Willow and Tara were living in her house and somehow she was supposed to be the provider of the family. How had they managed in the however-many days during her death? Where was that support now?

She hated retail. She hated being that girl. She hated everything about her life, except the way she felt when she was regarded as a goddess and not a commodity.

She hated feeling useless. And right now, this moment, she was truly useless.

Which reminded her, she was supposed to be doing something. Not that she knew what, exactly, but Anya had sent her downstairs with a purpose. Buffy licked her lips and looked around in embarrassment. “Where’s the mandrake root?”

Spike smiled softly and turned toward a shelf covered with jars. Of course. The big armoire of science projects. She should’ve known.

“Ummm, here,” he said, selecting a container. “Only three to a container.” He handed it to her. “Tends to…go a bit wonky if you cram them too close together.”

This has been sufficiently awkward, she thought, smiling her gratitude. “Thanks.” He was giving her that wounded-puppy look again, as though conversing with her was akin to stepping on shards of glass.

She hated this. She hated it being awkward with him. He was the balance of her miserable life. He was the reason she had maintained even an air of sanity in her post-life as a fallen angel.

Please get me out of here.

“Feel like a bit of the rough an’ tumble?” he blurted.

Oh, God that sounded too good to be true. “What?” she retorted ineloquently, so taken aback that she thought she’d heard wrong.

“Me…you…”

She just stared. She couldn’t help herself.

“Patrolling? Hello?”

“Oh,” she answered, cheeks flushing as she tore her eyes away. Oh. Still, patrolling with Spike was way above pretending to be happy upstairs, only not so much with the pretend. Call her selfish, but she didn’t owe her friends anything. “Uh…I should…I should stay.”

Spike nodded quickly, going in for damage control. “Right. Wasn’ thinkin’. It's not like I don't already have plans. Great Pumpkin's on in twenty.”

“No, I mean, I should stay. Really should…but God, get me out of here.”

He blinked. “Really? You wanna…?”

“God, yes.”

Spike blinked again, then a large, genuine smile spread across his lips. “Right! Ummm, do y’wanna take the mandrake upstairs, an’ meet me ‘round front? Don’ s’pose the Scoobies’ll like me crashin’ their party. An’…” He held up his purloined burba weed. “Anya swore she’d send a hysl’ik demon after me the next time she caught me robbin’ the place.”

“She actually caught you?”

He shrugged. “I was drunk. Not my finest hour.”

Buffy frowned. “Drunk?” Her drinking binge with Spike a couple nights before had increased her admiration for his endurance when it came to alcohol. If he was drunk—something she’d only truly seen once—he must have drank down the whole town.

“Yeh…little while ago.” He shuffled uncomfortably, and she knew.

It was a strange feeling, this wanting to console Spike over her death.

“Come with me upstairs,” she said softly. “If Anya makes a big deal over it, I’ll pay for the weed.”

He smirked at that and shook his head. “Don’ think so, pet.”

“Well, honestly—”

“Either I pinch it or I fork over the cash.”

“This is some macho thing that keeps me from paying for your weed.”

“Burba weed, an’ yes. ‘Sides, aren’ you super-hero do-gooder types s’posed to discourage petty theft?”

She shrugged. “It’s you. It’s Anya. I am choosing at this moment to care less about that than I do about other things. Come on, let’s go.”

“Buffy…” He seized her wrist and pulled her back just slightly, his eyes widening the next second as though he was astonished by his own brazenness. “’F we leave together, your mates are gonna think something’s up.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, drawing the word out to feign ignorance of his meaning. “And?”

“You—”

“I’m leaving with you for a reason. I’ll probably do other things with you at some point, and since when do I need a written permission slip from my pals when I wanna go hang with…well…” The vampire you hated until he became the one you need. “You.”

He frowned, unconvinced. “You’re sure? The Scoobies—”

“I’m sure.” As if to solidify her statement, she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him up the stairs.

She didn’t know quite what she expected as she threw open the basement door and stepped into the party with Spike at her side. The music didn’t stop. The movement didn’t cease. There was no collective gasp followed by an entourage of annoying questions. Rather, it seemed that no one noticed them at all. The store was too crowded with eager kids begging for candy; no one hit the VAMPIRE SLAYER DATING VAMPIRE warning button. There were no sirens or red flashing lights.

Granted, she and Spike weren’t dating. She was just holding his hand, even though she didn’t need to, and had accepted his proposal for a night to themselves doing something they mutually enjoyed.

Nah. In what bizarre-o world was that considered dating?

And even so, she didn’t care. She was thoroughly beyond caring. If Spike was what she wanted, what she needed, who was she to deny herself? Especially when the world that she was supposed to defend had gone out of its way to continuously hand her the fuzzy end of the lollipop; the vampire at her side had sacrificed more for her than anyone else ever had. She knew that now. She could see it. They had death in common, but that was hardly the beginning and the end. That was just the factor that had opened her eyes. That was the thing that had happened that had let her see what was right there in front of her. What had been in front of her from the beginning.

She was tired of denying herself what she wanted. She’d gotten so good at it during her first life; she wasn’t about to continue a habit of self-destruction. Spike was with her, by her side, because that was what she wanted. He loved her, albeit perhaps not in the way he had just a few months ago, but he cared for her to the point that he looked at her as though she was a personalized miracle.

She was his Lazarus.

Did she love him? Perhaps. She had almost forgotten what love felt like. She didn’t want the mess she’d experienced with Angel—not because it was sacred, rather because it was sloppy and chaotic and perhaps, overall, the unhealthiest thing that had ever happened to her. Her relationship with Angel had been a learning experience, yes, but she’d spent far too much time idolizing him when he was, if anything, just a vampire with a man’s conscience. His warm wishes for her had sent her running first to Parker, then to Riley, and neither of those winners had really marked her chart as prime examples of the male sex in the human column.

Spike was a vampire, but he was a man, too. And he was upfront about his monstrosity, whereas every other man in her life wanted to pretend they were saints among sinners. Angel tried to pretend he was so above everything because of what he’d been through, but he was no different from the rest. He’d given her some crap about wanting a normal life, and then he’d gone off and was messing up the lives of Cordelia and Wesley by being a vampire amidst the human race. His words of wisdom had long since run bitter. Seeing him recently had only confirmed that.

She didn’t want the love she’d had with Angel. That was something every teenager was supposed to experience, and she had. Yes, yes, she had. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She was a woman. She was someone far-placed from the person she’d been in high school. Angel wasn’t what she wanted. She was almost surprised he’d ever been in the running.

She’d seen both sides of light and dark now. She knew where the demons lived.

She wanted Spike. She, Buffy, wanted Spike.

Did she love him? Well, she wanted to, if she didn’t already. She desperately wanted to. And the feelings that had been blossoming since her resurrection were on a fast-track to love. She just hoped that last year hadn’t been her one and only shot. That the window of opportunity wasn’t closed, and she could shove all her lousy former reservations aside and be with him.

“Here’s the mandrake,” Buffy told Anya, who had skated over the minute she spied them. “Spike and I are leaving.”

The vampire tossed her a confused though quietly proud look.

“Good,” Anya retorted, waving dismissively. “Your melancholy state was bringing down the spirit of seasonal spending. You should have Spike work out your tension with mutually beneficial orgasms.” She beamed as though she’d just solved world peace. “I have customers waiting to give me money. Off with you!”

The words Spike and orgasms had appeared together in the same sentence, only a breath apart. Buffy dazed a bit. Spike looked embarrassed, though oddly pleased.

“Come on, pet,” he said gently, squeezing her hand. She blinked and looked down, realizing that her fingers were still clasped around his, and her heart skipped a beat. God, that felt so normal. “Let’s be off.”

Best idea she’d ever heard, by far. Buffy smiled a bit and nodded her agreement. “Lemme tell Giles that I’m leaving,” she said, “so he makes sure that Dawn gets home.”

“The witches’ll take care of the Bit,” Spike observed.

The underlying message was: don’t go, he’ll talk you out of it.

“I’d just feel better…you know, sisterly thing. Just gimme a sec, okay?” She favored him with a smile, then released his hand, navigating through the swarm of people that had flocked to the wrap desk in the past ten minutes.

When she’d last seen him, Giles had been accompanied by Pirate Xander. Now, he looked to be rushing to get customers’ purchases into bags while simultaneously manning the register.

Damn, damn, double damn.

“What happened to Xander?”

“He kept poking me with his hook,” Giles explained hurriedly, bagging the items splayed across the counter. “I sent him over to charmed objects. With any luck he'll poke the wrong one and end up in an alternative dimension inhabited by a fifty-foot Giles that squishes annoying teeny pirates.” He flashed her a grateful look. “We have a ton of bagging to do here.”

“Ummm, no deal. I’m going out with Spike.”

His eyes widened comically at that. “You’re what?”

She arched a brow, shrugging. “Going out with Spike to do what we do best.”

Giles was staring at her in horror.

“Patrolling? Hello?”

From across the room, she caught Spike’s gaze. He was grinning slyly to himself. It was nice. She loved seeing that familiar gleam in his eyes. That adoring way he looked at her when he knew she was too far away or too preoccupied to care.

Well, at least in the days of old. She hadn’t forgotten Anya’s suggestion for orgasms. That coincided with her inner debate over the love thing rather nicely.

“Oh. Right, of course.” Giles expelled a deep breath, shaking his head. “Buffy, you've been patrolling every night this week,” he observed, taking an item from a customer and ringing it up. “Besides, it's Halloween; it's the one time of the year that supernatural threats give it a well-deserved rest. As should you.”

Damn Watcher countering her with logic, as disproved as it had been over the years.

“Yeah, what about costumes that take over your personality? Or, wee little Irish fear-demon-y thingies?”

“Yes, well, if anything calamitous should happen, history suggests it'll happen to one of us.” Giles paused. “I don’t think it’s…healthy…that you’re spending so much time with Spike. You know how he feels about you.”

“I’ll go get Dawn to help you bag.”

“Buffy, are you even—”

“Listening? Yes. Caring? Not so much. Just make sure Dawnie gets home all right, all right? I don’t know how long I’ll be out.” She was off again before he could protest, and pretended not to hear the backlash of angry reprimands she received for abandoning him during a rush.

Spike was back to looking unsure of himself when she approached.

“You ready?” she asked softly.

“You sure you wanna go with me? I’d understand it if—”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, let’s go.” She grabbed his hand again, reveling in the peace that rolled through his skin and caressed hers. “I’ll tell Dawn we’re leaving and that it’d be in her best interest to stay if she wants money to hang with Janice this weekend.”

Spike smiled. “All right.”

Buffy released a deep breath and squeezed his hand subconsciously. There was something so fundamental about that connection. About the way he consoled her without words. The way he made everything all right with a look; how he eased worries she hadn’t been consciously aware existed.

She wouldn’t give it up for anything. Now that she had it and knew what it was, she wouldn’t give it up.

This thing they had—this wondrous undefined thing that used to be the bane of her existence—gave her such peace.

Perhaps she did love him.

Either way, he was getting her out of this godforsaken place. He was rescuing her again. He played the part of her savior without even knowing it.

She’d have to tell him. Have to let him know what it meant to her. How it kept her from falling apart.

Perhaps tonight was just the boost she needed.

Part Two

She wasn’t used to being the assertive one in their relationship.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. As a slayer, she was nothing but assertive. She supposed she was simply disconcerted at being nervous in his presence. She’d never before realized how tiresome it was to maintain a girlish crush, especially with the object of her affection just inches away, his hand brushing against hers with every step.

She remembered patrolling with Angel a lifetime ago, when she’d walked in the shoes of a girl that no longer existed. She hadn’t taken their relationship seriously then—not in the time before his transformation to a fish-killing baddie. Though nothing but a kiss of gratitude lived between her and Spike, she already felt as though she had experienced a world of intimacy with him. The knowledge of how he had felt prior to her death kept her awake at night, cold with the thought that her chance of warmth had died with her in that momentous jump.

There was tension between her and Spike that hadn’t previously existed. She didn’t remember being so nervous when alone with him before, save that one time that she had gone patrolling with him after Dawn revealed how he felt about her.

Spike was always around when she was miserable; she’d told him as much. It wasn’t a notion of blame; rather, she’d been ineloquently attempting to let him know how much she appreciated the comfort he had to offer. It was the reason she’d gone to him the first night after her resurrection, and practically every night thereafter. She’d gone drinking with him on their not-a-date, watched as he defended her honor in front of slimy semi-baddies, turned a blind eye at the kitten poker while battling the acknowledgment of what he had become to her.

There was a reason she kept running to him.

Buffy released a deep breath and kicked at the ground. “Tonight sucks,” she complained.

Spike stiffened beside her. “’m sorry,” he said. “I could…you wanna go back?”

“What? No. No! I didn’t mean…” Bah. That lousy tendency of speaking before she thought had obviously climbed out of the grave with her. “I didn’t mean…you. No, you’re the part of tonight that is very much not with the suckage.”

Spike didn’t say anything at that, though his lips curled into a half-pleased, half-crude grin.

“It’s more the entire thing,” she explained. “The friends and the Watcher and the bills and Dawn’s school work, which makes mine look like a Valedictorian’s.”

“Then it must be bloody tragic,” he teased lightly.

“Watch it, funny guy.”

He merely grinned and shook his head. “Why don’ you ask the lover witches to pitch in, pet?” he asked. “Charge them rent or what all. Last I checked, it was your house.”

“I was thinking the same thing earlier. I’m essentially a B&B owner who keeps getting stiffed.”

“So what? Make ‘em pay. It’s the least they can do after…”

The air between them grew awkward and silent again.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed softly, nodding. “It is. But hey, it’s not like they know about that.”

“That makes it all right?”

“No, it just gives them that much leeway. I think knowing that they thought they were doing the right thing has been the only thing to keep me from completely going bonkers.” She paused. “Well, that and you.”

Spike stopped walking. “What?”

She turned to look at him, arching a brow. “What? You thought I hadn’t noticed?”

“I jus’…no…” He shuffled uncomfortably. “I guess I never thought you’d actually admit it.”

Buffy winced, but shrugged. “Okay, yes, I deserve that.”

“What?” He paused, then frowned and sighed. “Bloody hell, Slayer, I din’t mean—”

“No, no, no. I know that. Stop. Look…” She held up a hand. “I want us to be normal, okay? Not the way we used to be but…me girl, you boy. No slayers, no vampires. Come on. Please? I don’t wanna worry with this tonight. Well, scratch that. Ever. I’m so tired of worrying with it.”

Spike’s eyes went wide and he looked away. “Buffy…are you sayin’…” A sigh rolled off his shoulders, and when his gaze found hers again, he was resigned. “’m bloody exhausted with tryin’ to keep up with you, pet. Talkin’ to you is like navigatin’ a minefield. It’s a rush, yeh, but a game of chicken with death nonetheless. I’m here ‘cause I love bein’ with you, but I’m sodding terrified that I’ll say somethin’ that mucks this up, or read too much into somethin’ you say an’…”

Buffy wet her lips. “What do you want, Spike?”

“You know what I want.”

The words inspired warmth through her body. Yes, she knew. At that moment, that instant, all doubt was cast aside and she was embraced with hope. The only thing she had to overcome was her fear—the same that really had no backing. She had absolutely no reason to fear confessing what she felt to him. He wouldn’t reject her. He wouldn’t turn her away. If anything, he would take her in his arms and never let go, and she would regain the heaven she’d lost. The bit of paradise that her friends had ripped away from her.

She supposed she was afraid of it because of what it meant—not from the stance of being a slayer in love with a soulless vampire, rather for the knowledge of how it would change everything. Like pre-wedding jitters to the ninth degree.

Buffy released a deep breath. She knew that it would be forever with Spike. Once she made that leap, there was no going back. He would love and worship her until the world ended, and she would love him, too.

She was just afraid, despite how much she wanted it.

“It’s okay,” she said instead, frowning inwardly at her cowardice. Chicken. “I know this…I’m not like I was before. I think you know that.”

His shoulders fell. “I know, luv,” he said. “I jus’ don’…I know this is all I’m gonna get. I know it. I’m not completely daft, right? I jus’…with as close as you let me get, I’m bloody terrified that I’m gonna bugger it all up. Or I’ll wake up an’ I’ll be in a world where you hate me an’ the only time I see you is when you wanna go a round of Kick The Spike. Or worse, I’ll wake up an’…” He caught himself just in time, his eyes distancing, and the unspoken you’re still gone rang heavily between them.

Buffy smiled softly and stepped forward. “I’m not going anywhere, Spike.”

And it was because of him that she was really okay with that.

“I know,” he replied. His tone was final. His eyes told a different story.

“And I’m not playing the ‘me slayer, you vampire’ game anymore.”

Spike cocked his head and studied her. “Whass’at mean, then?”

She thought about it for a minute, then met his eyes and smiled. “It means what it means,” she replied ambiguously, extending a hand. “Come on. Let’s patrol.”

A flicker of euphoria flashed across the vampire’s eyes as their fingers entwined, and the jolt of electricity that sparked at his touch wasn’t lost on her.

It took something like dying to bring her this far. In a cemetery with Spike, whom she wouldn’t even admit she was attracted to until the very end of her first life. Her true first life—she didn’t consider the few seconds that the Master had her technically dead counted for anything.

Her second life could possibly be a blessing in the guise of a curse. She didn’t know. She wasn’t all right yet, but when she was with Spike, she felt normal.

The graveyard was appropriately empty, beyond it being rather foggy in a typical Halloweenish fashion. Buffy sighed and worried her lip between her teeth, her mind rolling back to the years when this had been her favorite holiday. That had to have been telling, right? She remembered playing tag with her childhood neighbors, only her methods of tagging had always been closer to slaying. Even a few years ago, she’d been one with the spirit of October.

Her friends had a certain knack for sucking the joy right out of her.

“I wonder if demons had a big Constitutional Convention and decided that Halloween was going to be their day off just to be funny, unless they prowled a slayer-guarded hellmouth,” she pondered aloud.

Spike quirked a brow. “A demonic Constitutional Convention?”

“A meeting of malice,” she concluded with a nod. “101 Ways To Screw With Slayers.”

He flashed a grin. “Too bad I din’t take that course.”

She offered an inelegant snort. “I’m surprised you didn’t teach it.”

“You think if I had all the answers on the ins an’ outs of slayers, I’d’ve waited this long to make my move?”

“You haven’t waited this long. Moves have been made…and shot down, but made nonetheless.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re hell on a man’s ego, pet?”

She shrugged. “I’m just special like that.”

Spike’s smile softened a bit and he nodded, releasing her hand. There was that look on his face again. That look that he adapted every time he felt he needed to caution himself against getting too close for fear of getting burnt. He drew in a breath of air and tossed a glance to the stars. “Have you decided what field to tackle next in the unendin’ search for employment?” he asked.

“Well, let’s see. I need something away from customer service, or people of any sort.” She frowned. “Maybe I should open a home business.”

He snickered. “An’ sell what? Slayer protection from residential demons?”

“Sorry. Anya beat you to that idea.”

Her vampire chuckled at that. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Though honestly, I expected you to arrive at that conclusion eons ago.”

“I’m not gonna charge people to save their lives, Spike.”

“Why not?”

A frown marred her face. “It’s wrong.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’ stop your honey, right? Isn’t that his bloody business? Solvin’ people’s problems for a pretty penny? Helpin’ the soddin’ helpless as long as they have funds in the bank?”

Buffy scowled. “He’s not my honey,” she countered. “And if that’s his prerogative, so be it. It’s not mine.”

Spike’s brows arched appraisingly. “What’s this?”

“I just don’t understand him anymore, and I really don’t care to.” She crossed her arms, feeling at once self-conscious. “I went to see him…recently.”

A very still beat settled between them. And just for a second, she felt like a woman admitting to her lover about an illicit affair. Gross. Dirty. She wanted to apologize. Wanted to tell him, in all honesty, that it meant nothing. That the entire encounter had only reaffirmed what she’d suspected ever since she got back. That Angel wasn’t what she wanted. That in going to see him, her eyes had opened to what she had waiting for her at home. That she wouldn’t trade being with him right now for a thousand years with Angel. That her feelings for her first great love had died to softer affection. That he’d been one guy she knew in high school who taught her the elementary aspects of love. The one that prepared her for the love of her life, but didn’t fill his shoes.

“I know,” Spike said softly. “I came over to see you…make sure all was…an’ the Bit told me you’d gone.”

Buffy wet her lips. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, her mind cried. “Yeah,” she replied lamely. “It came up suddenly. Cordy called to talk to Willow and…well, everything went kinda crazy.”

He nodded. “How was it?”

The question was polite and almost forced. The look on his face read for how very much he didn’t want to hear about her time with Angel. How pained he was at the thought of what might have happened between them.

Well, it was time to dispel that theory.

“Terrible,” she replied.

Spike paused and arched a brow, forbidden shades of hope sparking his eyes. “Terrible?”

“Absolutely terrible.” Buffy shook her head. “We didn’t know how to act around each other. He was…diplomatic. Decided to relate to me by telling me how he felt when he had to crawl out of his grave. Asked me how the family was. Looked at his watch every fifteen minutes…really, he had more restraint than I did. At one point, I think I started a mental inventory of all the stuff he has to put in his hair to keep it up like that.”

He smirked appreciatively. “Stupid sod. Had you there all to himself—”

“It wasn’t like that. I went because I thought I had to.”

“Had to?”

She shrugged. “It was Angel. It was me and Angel, and the massive saga of the thing we used to have. Like I was fulfilling a duty to the writers of our soap-opera, or finally giving that annoying teenager that I once was a reason to let go of this idealized version of the perfect man he once modeled for me. But I’m not that person anymore. I don’t know when I stopped being that person, but it was before I died. I think he just wanted to go back to Cordelia.”

“Peaches an’ the Prom Queen?”

“Well, he didn’t come right out and say it, but there’s something there. He might not even know it yet.” Buffy exhaled deeply and tossed her head back, eyes fixed on the stars. “I regretted going the minute I got there.”

“Why?”

“Because you weren’t with me.”

Spike stopped walking again and stared at her in awe. “What?”

She smiled and turned. “Look, I know I’m insane with the mixed signals, especially of late, but I’m not blind. I know what you’ve done for me. And I know that I feel…like myself when I’m with you. Angel’s not that for me anymore. He hasn’t been for a while…I don’t know when it changed, but it changed. I was too stupid to see it.”

“Buffy…”

“I just…you’ve been the only one I can rely on since…” She gestured inarticulately. “And I don’t mean for that to mean…well…it’s not the reason I’m with you right now. Well, yeah, it’s one of the reasons, but it’s not the end-all-be-all of reason-dom.”

Spike smiled softly. “You’re not makin’ any sense, pet.”

She offered a nervous laugh. “You think I don’t know that?” Their gaze held for a minute longer before she broke away, her body wrought with tension. “You think there are no oogly booglies out tonight because I decided to be proactive and patrol?”

She was being a coward again, and they both knew it. However, there was something in Spike’s eyes now that hadn’t been there before. Some distant strand of hope that he was reading her the way she wanted to be read. That he could tell what her message was even if he had to interpret the grey area that lived between the lines. He didn’t call her on it, though. Didn’t drag her insecurity out and demand she make sense of her cold feet. Instead, he shrugged and went with the flow, and she was grateful that he did. “S’pose to be a demon holiday,” he replied, grabbing her hand and continuing on the worn path through the cemetery.

She would never tire of the feel of his flesh against hers. “Yeah, and you’ve been living on the Hellmouth how long?”

“I jus’ figure the locals don’ know the rules.”

“Yeah, and you’re such a rule-follower, huh?”

“’Course not, luv. That’d be borin’.” He grinned. “Speakin’ of kettles an’ pots…”

“I do suppose it’s detrimental to my title to hang with vamps, huh?” She shook her head. “I’ve never been much for rules.”

Spike held up a hand. “Woman after my own heart,” he replied, withdrawing a pack of smokes and plucking one between his lips.

You have no idea.

“Lousy vamps,” she said instead, kicking at the grass.

He winced. “That smarts.”

“Not you. The lack of like-minded rebels that are supposed to be giving me a hard time tonight.”

“Awww, poor Slayer.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you have the argumentative skills of a three-year old?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re sexy as hell when you’re reprimandin’ me?” Spike winked and took a puff of his ciggie, his eyes sparkling as her cheeks reddened. “What’s this? Are you blushin’?”

She glanced down, overwhelmed with a girlish sense of modesty that was completely foreign to her. “No,” she denied coyly.

“You’re blushin’!”

“Am not.”

“’Cause I called you sexy?” His eyes danced. “Fuck, you’re adorable when you let yourself go.”

“I’m gonna be doing that a lot more around you, so be prepared.”

“Like a good boy scout.”

“You can’t be good at anything. Vampire, remember?”

He domed a brow challengingly. “I remember well enough,” he retorted, running his tongue over his teeth with a wicked and oh so welcome burn of lust in his gaze. “An’ I wouldn’t say I’m not good at anythin’, Slayer. There are a couple areas that I…excel in.”

“Pig.”

“Oh, witty retort.”

“Well, at least I got you out of the minefield.” She smiled and drew in a deep breath. “Is it ironic or perverted that I feel more alive in a graveyard than I do with my friends?”

Spike quieted and took a drag of his cigarette. “I’d say it’s jus’ tellin’. This is where you wanna be, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’?”

Buffy shook her head. “It’s funny. You spend so much time fearing death. Hell, I’ve gone through it twice now…though really, the first time only counted to the PTB because I didn’t even have time to see the white light before I was back in the land of the living. And yeah, with slayers, death is pretty much on the warning label. Gonna be ugly, gonna be painful, gonna happen fast, no time to enjoy life ‘cause you’re saving it for others. But I’ve already done that, and I know what’s waiting for me on the other side.”

The vampire just nodded.

“How is it that I can still fear death, even after all that?”

Spike shrugged. “You’re still human, luv,” he said. “Fuck, I’ve experienced death, too. Doesn’ mean I’m particularly lookin’ forward to meetin’ the stake that has my name on it.”

“If I had that much of a death wish, I would’ve just killed myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve. You’re not a coward, Buffy. Suicide’s the path of cowards and martyrs. You’ve already done the martyr bit; you’re not a coward.”

She licked her lips. “How do you know?”

“I know. I know you. I know you bloody well, if I don’ say so myself. You’re many things, but there’s not a cowardly bone in your body.”

“You are so wrong.”

“Am I?”

Buffy nodded. “I’m terrified. God, Spike, I’m terrified of everything. Of how to pay for food and electricity this month. Of how to ask Willow and Tara for money without feeling like a criminal, even though I know I’m entitled to it. How to do my job when I know the outcome. How to walk through these cemeteries every night and pass my headstone and be expected to just take it with a smile and a nod. I’m scared of Dawn. Her grades are falling and she won’t listen to me when I tell her that she’s gonna be taken away if she doesn’t improve. If she doesn’t stop skipping school…or hanging out with the kids she hangs out with. Janice? She got suspended last week for smoking pot on school grounds. Dawn doesn’t listen to me! What kind of role model am I for her? ‘Do well in school because you don’t wanna be like me?’”

“Dawn worships you.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand that it could all end with one bad visit from social services. And everyone keeps looking at me and smiling and asking me if I’m okay and expecting me to be honest with them but at the same time, not wanting to know the truth.” A pause. All or nothing now. “And there’s you. I’m scared to death of you.”

His eyes went wide and they stopped walking again. “Buffy?”

“I…” She broke off, tearing her gaze away from his. “You scare me. What I’m feeling…everything that’s changed. It all scares me. And I want it but I keep running from it. Because that’s what I do. I can slay monsters and stop hellgods from destroying the world, but when it comes to heart-stuff, I’m no good. I’m just no good at this anymore. I used to be good at it. Then again, I used to be sixteen and I thought I was immortal.”

He was looking at her in awe. “Buffy…are you…”

“I don’t know what I am,” she replied airily, crossing her arms, still not looking at him.

Coward.

He took a step forward, cupping her cheek. “Look at me.”

“Spike—”

“Look at me.” She did. His eyes were crystal blue, and he burned her with the power behind his gaze. “You’ve gone through somethin’ none of these wankers, myself included, can even begin to imagine. It wasn’ hell, luv. They tore you out of a place where there are no tears. The fact that you haven’t fallen apart completely astounds me. You’re an amazing woman, Buffy. You’ve already made the ultimate sacrifice once. You’ve given more to this miserable world than they can bloody conceive. An’ anyone who expects more from you is out of their mind.”

Dammit, she’d promised herself tonight wasn’t going to be a night for crying. Tonight was supposed to be happy. Tonight was supposed to be her liberation. So how was it that she felt familiar tears stinging her eyes as her body begged her to collapse in the comfort of his embrace? How was it that he was the only one who got it?

He loves me.

She knew that, but her friends loved her, too. With as much as they had mucked up her existence, they loved her. And somewhere, they had her best interest at heart. They’d done what they’d done out of love. But they hadn’t rescued her; they’d punished her. And then they expected her to smile and be okay with it. As though she had any choice. How could she burden them with the knowledge of their crime? What would that accomplish?

Spike knew her secrets; he was the one she’d run to ever since crawling from the grave. And even if she hadn’t mentioned Heaven, she knew that he would be there still. Understanding even if she didn’t tell him. Offering his shoulder, his company, his everything if it would make everything better.

Buffy released a trembling sigh when she felt his lips brush against her forehead. He lingered there for a moment, then pulled back.

“You know I love you, right?” he asked softly. “I haven’t said it since…but you know I love you.”

She smiled a watery smile and nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“I din’t wanna pressure you…din’t wanna throw that out there like I expect anythin’, ‘cause I don’t. If anythin’, you’ve given me more than I ever thought I’d…” Spike shook his head. “More than anythin’, sweet.”

If there’s anything you want to, oh say, tell him, now would be the time to do it, Logical Buffy told her, arms crossed and toe-tapping impatiently.

She saw eternity in his eyes.

The moment passed before her voice could be convinced to speak up. His hands fell back to his sides, leaving her skin cold and bereft. “Looks like the baddies aren’ gonna appease you t’night,” he said. “Want me to walk you home?”

The last place she wanted to go was home.

“Was jus’ bein’ chivalrous,” he clarified a quick second later. “I know you can get home by yourself. Jus’ don’t particularly want the night to end jus’ yet.”

“I don’t either.”

Sure. That she could say.

“Fancy headin’ back to the crypt to watch a seasonally appropriate flick, then?” He paused. “I admit it’s not posh, but it’d at least get the ambiance right.”

“Why, Mr. The Bloody, are you asking me on a date?” she teased.

That adoring smile that she loved so much spread across his lips, and he tilted his head, eyes flickering. “Would you say yes?”

“Are you gonna chain me up?”

“Only if you ask real nice-like.”

Buffy shook her head and chuckled. “Let’s go make with the movie watchage, chain-boy. Something nice and Halloweeny.”

“I already suggested that it be seasonally appropriate.”

“Yeah, well…okay. Consider that one yea vote for seasonal appropriateness.” She shrugged. “You have snacky goods at your place?”

“Weetabix?”

“Like…movie appropriate goods.”

“Well, we still have to head over to Restfield,” he observed. “An’ there’s a place we can stop on the way jus’ to make sure.”

Buffy nodded, a giddy rush claiming her body.

God this was really happening, wasn’t it? This was really happening.

Her inner debate over her feelings for him was over; she figured being honest with herself was the first step to take if she wanted to be honest with him. Now if she could just overcome her illogical jitters of telling him how much she loved him, all would be well.

As for now, they were on a date.

A date with Spike, on Halloween, in which they would curl up on the sofa in his crypt and watch scary movies. The night simply couldn’t get any better, though she was hoping against hope that it would.

Hoping for things she could have if she could defeat her fear of the unknown.

Part Three

Buffy licked her lips, her eyes following Spike as he moved methodically through the crypt, lighting candles with careful diligence. “Mood-lighting?” she teased, leaning back on the sofa.

He tossed her a cheeky look over his shoulder. “I got you here, din’t I?”

“That’s because of your…what was it? Sinister attraction.”

“Bloody right.” He finished lighting the candles and slid the lighter back into his duster pocket, then tossed the coat itself to his worn rocking chair. “I don’ have a wide selection of flicks, pet. Din’t really see myself doin’ much entertainin’ here.”

“Well, it’s Halloween,” Buffy observed, shrugging as he approached, moving over to make room for him. “I’m sure every station is playing some kind of special. Didn’t you wanna watch the Great Pumpkin? Which, by the way, totally adorable.”

Spike scowled good-naturedly. “Hey. Watch it.”

“Well, come on! The Big Bad William the Bloody, watching Charlie Brown on Halloween?”

“’Cause of the sodding chip! Don’ you think I’d love to be out there, raisin’ all kinds of hell? Bein’ one of the vamps that you…bloody hell, Slayer, stop laughin’ at me!”

Buffy was doubled over, holding her stomach and giggling so hard that she was red in the face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, holding up a hand. “You’re right, honey. You’re the biggest of the big bads.”

“Bloody right.” He paused, then broke into a huge smile. “You’re callin’ me…honey?”

She waved a hand airily, avoiding his eyes, even as her cheeks seared with heat. “It’s just a thing,” she said.

“An’ sayin’ I’m…the biggest?”

“Pig.”

“As a member of the male race, yes.” He stared down at her adoringly. “You want me beside you, or at the opposite end of the divan so I can’t touch you?”

Buffy frowned and grabbed his hand, tugging him down beside her, curling into his embrace before resting her head on his chest. “Touching good,” she countered. “More touching.”

She felt rather than heard him purring in turn, his arm winding around her, his lips brushing her forehead. God, why it had taken her so long to discover what a thoroughly sensual man he was, she would never know. He was so attuned to everything; he sighed with every breath she took. He laughed every time she was humored, and cried whenever she was upset. The love he expressed with the slightest touch, the briefest glance had been there from the beginning. Why was it only now that she was seeing it?

“Mmm,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut, enjoying the soft caresses he played across her skin. “That feels nice.”

Spike shivered and brushed tendrils of hair out of her face. “Buffy…”

She waited for a second but he didn’t continue. Rather, he reached for the remote and flicked on the television and let the static of false reality fill in the space between them.

“How do you have cable in here?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Same way I have a fridge an’ a telly.”

“I still haven’t figured those out.”

“You fight ghoulies that aren’ s’posed to exist, an’ you marvel at the sodding technology.” Spike snickered and shook his head. “You’re a simple girl, Slayer.”

“Hey!”

“’S all right. I love you, anyway.”

She warmed all over. “I know.” I love you, too.

What exactly was she afraid of? What did she think would change when she gave the words a voice? Spike would still love her. He wasn’t about to disappear. He wasn’t going to leave her. She knew that. Of course she knew that. She couldn’t chase him off; god knows, she’d tried. She’d tried it for years. If he wouldn’t leave her when she claimed to hate him, why would he leave her when she professed her feelings?

Perhaps it was subconscious. Perhaps her mind had convinced her that the man that claimed to love her would abandon her, regardless of his loyalty, simply as punishment for who she was. Never mind that the men in her past had been ones that were either in her life to fulfill a role in a part that all young girls experienced or out of a misguided devotion to said role. Angel was her high school sweetie in his creepy, older man stalkerish way. He’d taught her about love in that she knew that he was absolutely not what she wanted now. She’d lived under the influence of his words of advice for years, running into the arms of Parker, then Riley while ignoring the one man that had never, ever abandoned her. Through the good and the very bad, through the problems they’d constructed in the years of campaigning they’d done to avoid the truth of what was between them.

“Let’s see what drama’s dominatin’ the airwaves tonight.”

“Edited,” she pointed out with a pout. “All the good stuff will be edited out. Not to mention all the commercials.”

“Well…yeh. Li’l girls get scared of these movies, y’know.”

“I’m not a little girl.”

“You’re a tiny slip of a thing,” he teased, his eyes raking down her body with a gleam of possessive lust. She trembled under the power of his gaze. “An’ yeh, you’re definitely a girl.”

Buffy smirked. “Well, yes, I’ll concede the obvious. But I’m not afraid of monsters on television.”

She knew too much about the real world to be concerned with the false one.

“Better not be,” her vampire retorted, tightening his arm around her. “You’re with one now. Wouldn’t wanna let your guard down.”

“Ohhh, is that Interview With A Vampire?”

Spike growled and changed the channel. “Not gonna spend the night with my best girl watchin’ the onscreen portrayal of her one an’ soddin’ only.”

Buffy frowned. There’s a Spike-like character in this movie? She definitely didn’t remember that.

“’Course Louie had character. More than I can say for Peaches.”

She bit back a grin at that. “Plus, Brad Pitt? Much sexier than Angel.”

“The bloke looks like a chit in this flick!”

“Oh, what’s this? Are you coming to Angel’s defense?”

Spike growled again and turned his attention back to the television, sulking. “No,” he replied bitingly. “Jus’ don’ fancy holdin’ you while you think about other men. This time right now is mine to pretend…” He paused. “I jus’ don’t want to break the illusion until the last possible moment.”

Buffy paused and met his eyes. “Spike, it’s…it’s not…”

“It’s not what?”

She heard the sound of the television somewhere in the background from where it had settled on VH1. On screen, Susan Sarandon was singing to a lean, blond monster man in a gold bikini.

“It’s not…” The hammering of her heart echoed through her veins, pulsing through every inch of her being. And there was no room for thought or second-guessing. The look in his eyes was open and vulnerable; he was bearing himself before her on a platter. There was fear, yes, but love drowned out those fears for the greater understanding that whatever they had, large or small, was worth the sacrifice.

He was terrified, too, but that had never stopped him. Not where she was concerned.

The next thing she knew, she had closed the space between them, brushing her lips over his. He froze against her for a long second, then moaned and melted into her kiss. His hands tugged her closer, his tongue requesting entrance to her mouth, which she granted with enthusiasm. God, he tasted exquisite. If liberation had a flavor, Spike embodied it. His darkness merged with light, his flaws battled perfection; the demon and the man converged in a yellow wood, and he poured everything into the idyllic union of their lips.

“Buffy,” he whimpered, drawing her closer.

“Guh…”

“My darling slayer.” His lips broke from hers, his mouth taking chart down her throat. He suckled sweetly at her skin, tugging her completely in his lap so that she was straddling his waist. “God, I love you. I love you so much.”

“Oh God!”

It didn’t sound like a protest when it escaped her lips; therefore she was perplexed when he broke away from her guiltily, panting heavily.

“’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her throat. “I din’t mean…”

“What?”

He glanced between them shyly. “I got carried away. You don’ have any bloody idea what affect you have on me.”

“I don’t—”

“Din’t mean to…” He nudged his hips forward, and her eyes went wide at the feel of him hard between her thighs, pressing against her center intimately. “We better stop.”

Why?

She was so stunned that she let him push her off his body, her skin instantly bereft at the loss of his, her body aching for his touch. She watched him as he rose to his feet, moving back toward the fridge.

“Want somethin’ to drink?” he asked, pretending to be casual. Pretending that nothing had changed.

Pretending because she knew that he thought that was what she wanted.

“Ummm…bottle of water,” she said shakily.

“Want any of the goodies we bought?”

She’d practically forgotten about that. “Reese’s?” she suggested.

Spike tossed her a pack, followed by a chilling bottle of water. He poured himself a glass of blood, then grabbed a box of Weetabix and a beer. “Take the clicker, if you like,” he said, gesturing to the abandoned remote. “See if there’s anythin’ on that tickles your fancy.”

Buffy licked her lips and changed the channel. “Not interested in more Rocky Horror?” she asked.

He smirked. “Not one for musicals, luv.”

“I think you’re intimidated by Rocky’s tan. He’s a blond of hunka hunka monster love to light my fire, and he’s not sun-deprived.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Well, pet, it wasn’ bloody Rocky that had you all hot an’ bothered a few minutes ago.”

She shrugged playfully. “Believe that if you like,” she retorted, smothering a grin, changing the channel. “Oh…Fright Night!”

“No.”

“You really don’t like vampire movies, do you?”

“I don’t fancy misrepresentations of my species.”

“They’re movies. They misrepresent everything. See!” She pointed to the television. “No girl has boobs that big. Well, except Pam Anderson.”

Naturally, her observation drew his eyes to her own chest, which was really her intention. “I like ‘em natural,” he murmured, not able to tear his gaze away from her breasts. “Like yours. Bloody perfect handful. No sodding silicon.”

“Mmmm…really?”

He nodded.

Buffy resisted the impulse to wiggle in her seat. She turned her attention back to the television, which had settled on the TV Guide Channel. “You know,” she said, “I never quite got the point of this.”

“Whass’at?” He was still ogling her boobs.

“A channel that broadcasts TV shows while running a listing of what else you should be watching…while telling you to watch their crappy programming. It…oh my god, do you have that channel!”

“What?”

She giggled uncontrollably and pointed at the screen. “It’s a dirty channel,” she said. “And you’re, you know, evil, so you probably traffic pornography. Oh my God, we have to watch that.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “You wanna watch porn with me?”

“It’s The Erotic Rites Of Countess Dracula! It has to be hilarious!”

“You…wanna watch porn with me?”

“Well, damn. You don’t have that channel.” She pouted. “Oh well…Arachnophobia?”

“If you wanna watch porn, I’m sure I can find—”

Buffy tossed him a sly smile. “I don’t want to watch porn,” she said, biting back a giggle at the desolate look on his face. “I wanted to watch a dirty Halloweenish movie. Come on…Countess Dracula? For the laughs, it’d be enough…oh my God, Ghost!”

Spike plopped down beside her again and snatched the remote away. “We’re not watching a sodding chick flick,” he growled good-naturedly. “Now, let’s see if we can find some seasonally appropriate porn.”

“Oh get off the porn!”

“Well, yeh, pet. That’s generally the idea.”

She flushed and pried open her pack of Reese’s. “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you remember the commercials a few years back about there being more than one way to eat these things?” Spike shot her a suggestive look at that. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of God, stop thinking about porn.”

“Blame yourself, pet. You brought it up. You can’t mention somethin’ like that with a bloke who’s in love with you an’ dyin’ for jus’ one touch.”

You touched me earlier. No one told you to stop. She frowned. I didn’t tell you to not stop, either. I haven’t told you anything.

“I…ummm…the ad I was talking about…they did a thing on vampires and how they could suck the peanut butter out of the chocolate. Do you remember that?”

Spike’s eyes danced. “That’s a real talent, that is.”

“Can you do it?”

He took a long drink of his blood. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He turned his eyes back to the television. “The Omen, sweetling. How ‘bout it?”

Buffy bit into her Reese’s and nodded, settling back. He wasn’t going to play that game anymore, and she understood it. Hell, thus far, he’d been rather sporting about her avoidance behavior. She was reaching for him, and his arms were open for her. Neither one of them knew what was stopping her, and she knew it wasn’t up to him to make her decision for her.

“They don’t make scary movies like this anymore,” she observed. “Gregory Peck? So above this genre…really, who would put Atticus Finch in the role of the devil’s child’s earth daddy?”

“There’s loads of exposition,” Spike granted. “Most audiences wouldn’t fancy it nowadays.”

“Most audiences are lame.”

He tossed her a grin. “We’re agreed.”

Buffy took a long sip of her water. “Gregory Peck has that classic appeal,” she noted, resting her head against his chest again. “Though I don’t much like the idea of just taking a baby and saying it’s yours without even telling your wife.”

“He’s not a bleeding saint. That’s the point.”

She shrugged, stifling a yawn. “Still.”

Spike frowned. “Sleepy, sweetheart?”

“A little.”

“Wanna go home?” he asked, tensing.

I am home.

She wasn’t leaving this crypt until there was some understanding between them. They’d come too far tonight to be back at square one when she saw him again. She wasn’t going to let herself go anywhere until he knew exactly how she felt about him. Until it was out there—until her fear was conquered. “No, I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

“Good. I wanna keep you here a li’l longer.”

“Good. I wanna be kept.” She took another drink of her water and snuggled into his side again. “You don’t mind if I doze, though, do you?”

“You mean fall asleep in my arms? Can’t have that.” He tugged her closer and encouraged her head to rest on his shoulder. “Sleep away, darling. I’ll keep the baddies from comin’ after you.”

“Mmmm…”

The minute she closed her eyes, she had no desire to reopen them. The crypt settled around her and she was lost in Spike’s embrace. She’d been running on fumes for days, it seemed; her vampire had given her a genuine reason to seek solace. To hold peace as it was given.

There was no second-guessing this sort of bliss.

The haunting rhythm of the film seemed to agree with her. It wasn’t fitting, but it was classic, built and executed in a style that had long since been lost by modern horror filmmakers. She found the cadence of the dialogue oddly peaceful, despite the evocative connotation of the words.

“When the Jews return to Zion and a comet rips the sky, and the Holy Roman Empire rises, then you and I must die. From the eternal sea he rises, creating armies on either shore. Turning man against his brother 'til man exists no more,” a voice recited on screen.

“Ah, this was in the age of good writing,” her vampire commented. His voice sounded far away.

She fell asleep in Spike’s arms as they watched a movie. And in that second, that blip of a second, nothing mattered. It was quiet and normal; the way it was meant to be.

The only thing that stood between her and an eternity of this were three little words. Three words that seemed less daunting with every breath she took, and more terrifying than any demon she’d ever faced.

These words would change everything in a wonderful way. That didn’t make the prospect any less than what it was. It didn’t change what it meant for her.

Spike was with her now, and he wasn’t leaving. He really wasn’t leaving her.

For the first time in her lonely years, she truly wasn’t alone.

There was no greater peace than such knowledge.

She wasn’t alone.

Part Four

Spike doused out the taste of blood with the rest of Buffy’s bottled water, his skin tingling simply to sample the place where her mouth had been. The night had, at some point, stretched into a lifetime. He prayed for darkness to battle the light a little longer. There were a few hours of Halloween left; a few precious hours in which he could keep her. She slept in his arms, her head on his chest and her legs tucked beneath her. She stirred and murmured contentedly every now and then, but was otherwise completely lost to a comfortable void. To peace that he marveled that he could provide.

She had no idea what she did to him. How much trust she had placed in him by simply falling asleep.

Tonight was more than he thought he would ever be allowed. Simply being with her was an aphrodisiac, but she’d let him in. She’d opened the door to her heart to him, and he found himself for the first time with absolutely no idea how to proceed. He wanted so badly to do right by her. Wanted to make decisions that were for her benefit and not for his—wanted to bear in mind that she wasn’t fully all right, despite the brave face she put on. Her friends demanded so much from her, and she obliged them out of some observation of a duty that didn’t truly exist. They wanted her to be happy. It was important for them that she be happy—such to the point that they blamed her for their unhappiness if she failed to appease them.

Living in a world of blissful ignorance was no excuse. Death wasn’t something that anyone could walk away from with any measure of ease. To assume that she could come back and be peachy keen in a matter of days, even if she was liberated from some tortuous hell dimension, was absolutely absurd.

They made living miserable for her, only she would never admit it. Not aloud, anyway. Not even to herself.

To see her in such pain made him ache. Buffy had been torn from peace and sent back to the Hellmouth. No one should ever expect anything from her ever again. She was a true fallen angel. She was as close to Heaven as he would ever hope to get. And for whatever reason, she had chosen him.

She was in his arms tonight because she had chosen him.

He just had to be careful not to bugger it up. The fact that he had her so close was absolutely terrifying. With every breath he took, every moment he stole, he was certain he would do something to ruin everything. That she would realize who she was with at last. That she would come to her senses and leave him.

Or worse…that she would accuse him of taking advantage of her. That he would let himself go in the warmth of her arms and lose control.

Being near her was a clear sign of masochism. She had kissed him and he had pushed her away. He needed her to know that it wasn’t about that for him. He loved her, but he didn’t expect payment for his friendship. She needed a place where people didn’t expect anything from her, and he wanted to be the one to provide it.

Buffy murmured something and shifted but didn’t waken. The movement made him tremble, as small as it was. He felt every breath she took. She was so close to him. If he touched her, she wouldn’t disappear. She was the embodiment of everything he wanted. The manifestation of a thousand angry, pleading sobs to the Powers to make the pain of her death go away. To heal the wound his heart had suffered the minute he saw her lying motionless in the sun. Always in the sun. Always a step away from where he was.

He’d talked to her every night since she died. There was patrol with her mates, then the inevitable visit to the place where she was. The place that was supposed to have been her resting place. He’d wished for death more times than he could count, but was tied down with the promise he’d made her. The promise he’d failed to keep.

A hundred and forty seven days, and then it was over. And for whatever reason, she was in his arms. She was with him.

He wasn’t a creature that the PTB would ever reward, despite the fact that he felt he’d earned it along the way. He’d earned it for being brave enough to challenge the nature of his kind, though only for that. He’d failed Buffy too many times to be worthy of anything else. Therefore, Spike could only assume that it was borrowed time. It couldn’t last. He was a vampire. She was the Slayer. Nothing had changed, and it couldn’t last. He wasn’t fool enough to believe it. He had done nothing to deserve paradise.

Except now he knew how wonderful it would be to have her, and letting her go would rip him apart.

The other option was something he refused to consider for fear of getting his hopes up. That voice that whispered that this was real. That Buffy was with him because she felt something for him. She’d all but said as much tonight when she wasn’t talking herself in circles. He knew she wanted him physically, but having that part of her without the rest of her would eventually kill them both. Tonight, if nothing else, had shown him as much. He couldn’t have just her body without having the part of her that she had given him thus far.

Spike exhaled deeply and glanced down again. She looked so peaceful, curled into his side. As though the worries that plagued her nights had finally given her rest.

He turned his eyes back to the telly and downed the rest of her water, tossing the bottle to the other side of the crypt. He knew he should wake her up and let her know that it was time to go home, but he hadn’t the heart. She’d told him of the nightmares that haunted her sleep, and if he could give her one night away from that, he’d move mountains to make it so.

“Mmmm,” Buffy cooed, shifting again.

He smiled at her, brushing his lips across her brow. “I love you.”

A grin flirted with her lips at that. “Love…Spike…”

He froze for a long second but shook it off. She was sleeping. Not much could be read into that. He refused to let the subconscious murmurings of his Slayer inspire him with hope. Instead, he kissed her forehead again and turned his eyes back to the television, where The Silence of the Lambs was beginning to play on AMC.

“Uhhhh…”

He glanced back down. “Buffy?”

No reply. Must be dreaming. He pursed his lips and glanced down the sofa to the pack of abandoned Reese’s, grinning goofily to himself.

If nothing else, tonight had been a night he would never forget.

A notion that was all the more solidified when he made a move to reach for the Reese’s and inadvertently caused Buffy’s head to slide from his chest and land on his crotch.

Spike went numb.

Oh bollocks.

He sat completely motionless for several long seconds, contemplating the new predicament. Buffy didn’t appear bothered by the movement. Rather, she released a sensual sigh and rubbed her face against him before settling once more, and he could’ve sworn his blood was on fire.

All right. S’okay. You din’t do this on purpose. She’ll understand that.

He snorted to himself at that. Right. In what universe?

“Mmmphfff,” Buffy moaned, draping an arm over his leg, nudging the bulge in his jeans with a move that his body interpreted as sensuous. “Need…”

Spike gasped and threw his head back. “God, why me?” he moaned pitifully. “You wankers up there think this is funny, do you? Get me this close an’ then—”

“Spiiiiike.”

He glanced down. “Buffy?”

“Uhhh…”

It hit him out of nowhere. An aroma so powerful, the gods would fall to their knees in reverence. Spike willed his eyes closed and moaned softly. God, she was…she couldn’t be…

Then he felt her lips caress his leg through his jeans, and he knew.

Oh God.

“Mmmm…”

“Bloody hell,” he whimpered. “You’re not makin’ this easy on me, pet.”

Buffy didn’t reply. Rather, she straightened her legs, so she was stretched across the sofa. Her arousal painted the air and the feel of her against him like that—nuzzling him, for Chrissake—was driving him out of his mind.

“Buffy…”

He didn’t know whether he was pleading with her to wake up or encouraging her dreams to become more active. He didn’t know what to do with his hands; didn’t know if he should try to lift her off his body or caress her in encouragement. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He knew what he should do. Of course he knew what he should do.

God, he wanted her so much.

“Spike…ohhh…”

Hearing her whimper his name like that wasn’t doing much to ease his erection.

He didn’t want to move her. He didn’t want to wake her up. He didn’t want her to leave the crypt. He didn’t want to ruin the night because his cock wouldn’t obey him.

If she awoke and bolted because of this, he would never forgive himself.

Buffy murmured again. “Need…”

Fuck.

No good could come from this. She either awoke with her face against his cock or by him shoving her away to avoid temptation. Either way, he was completely buggered.

Spike drew in a deep breath. Better to wake her up.

And ruin this?

No. Better to try and move her.

That proved to be a bad decision. He started nudging her down his lap—thankfully off his erection—then realized if he nudged her anymore, she would fall onto the ground.

Moreover, moving her had graced his nostrils with a powerful whiff of her desire. He was a man completely lost.

Bloody hell.

Spike blinked, barely aware of how hard he was panting. Well, here you are, you right git. How do you get yourself out of this?

She was asleep. She was murmuring, but she was asleep. And his erection wasn’t going anywhere. Especially with her arousal swimming around his head, her body pressed to his. This was going to be awkward no matter how he tried to spin it.

Do the decent thing an’ wake her up!

His hands had other ideas. His hands were in the process of unbuttoning his jeans. Too bloody tight, he told himself, a thought that vanished the second his cock sprang into his waiting grasp. Buffy was lying in his lap and she was dreaming of getting to know him biblically, and he was, after all, just a man.

“Spike…”

“Oh Christ,” he gasped, stroking his shaft in time with her whimpers. “Buffy…oh my God.”

His eyes were glued to her. The look of guised pleasure on her face as the Spike in her subconscious did god-knows-what to her body. He stared at her intently, pumping his cock as his mind flashed to a thousand different scenarios. A thousand different possibilities to what she was dreaming. How she saw them together in a world with no fear of repercussion. He saw them moving together rhythmically. Saw himself pinning her hands above her head as he thrust himself deep within her wet haven. Saw himself laving her throat with kisses, pinching her nipples with eager fingers, massaging her clit. Saw himself with her, curling up behind her, his arm over her middle. Saw her smile when he told her how much he loved her, and felt his body warm when she murmured how deeply she loved him in return.

Buffy shifted again, just slightly, her hands sliding down her abdomen, coming to rest above her denim-clad pussy.

Oh Christ.

Spike willed his eyes closed, stroking his erection furiously. He was so close he could taste it.

“Ohhhh…” she moaned.

For a second, he could’ve sworn his heart had started pounding. “Buffy!”

The cry reverberated loudly through the crypt, and it was over. Her eyes opened, and the earth stopped spinning. Spike froze, his hand stilling around his cock, his gaze deadlocked with hers. In a blink, everything was gone. He’d ruined it. God, he’d ruined it all.

“Oh God,” he moaned. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I din’t mean to…I wasn’…I wasn’ tryin’ to, but then you were…oh Buffy, please don’t—”

Buffy sat up just slightly.

“God, baby, I din’t mean to. Please don’…we had fun tonight, yeh? We had—”

Then something happened. God, something happened. She curled her fingers around his wrist, and he released his cock immediately.

“Sweetheart, I din’t—oh Jesus!”

Her hand encircled him timidly and she flashed him a shy grin. His world changed in that grin.

“B-Buffy?”

She didn’t say anything. Rather, her hand pumped him slowly, her eyes glued to his face. He wondered for an insane minute if she thought she was still dreaming. God, shouldn’t he tell her that she wasn’t dreaming?

“Sweetheart, are you—”

Her tongue lapped at the head of his erection, and rational thought flew out the proverbial window. Spike’s head flew back, a long moan tearing through his throat. “Oh Jesus.”

Buffy murmured her approval and took him deeper into her mouth, suckling sweetly at his skin. She squeezed the base of his cock, her eyes trained on his face, and the wealth of pure adoration that poured through her gaze clenched his unbeating heart. She looked at him as though she had just discovered gold in paradise.

“Buffy,” he whimpered, his hips thrusting forward of their own volition. “Fuck, what are you doing to me?”

She drew her head back and released him with a wet plop, her hand stroking him fervently in the absence of her mouth. “I’m loving you,” she replied, and the skies came tumbling down. “I’m loving you.”

His eyes misted with tears. “What did you say?”

“I’m loving you.” Her mouth returned to him, pressing a path of sweet kisses up and down his length, her body shifting slightly to get a better angle, lying across his lap. Her other hand dropped to his balls, squeezing him gently. Her eyes never abandoned his. “I love you, Spike.”

Oh my God.

“Am I dreaming?” he demanded. “God, Buffy, tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming.”

Shivers of pleasure raced through his body, tailed with euphoria that he was too cynical to trust. He cupped her cheek tenderly, watching in awe as she laved his cock with her tongue. As she took him deep into her mouth, sucking him into oblivion. Her words hung in the air around them, and he dared himself to believe it.

She smiled wisely as though she knew what he was thinking, humming against his skin. She drew her lips to the head of his erection and suckled sweetly. “You like that?” she asked, her tongue curling around him.

“Oh God!”

“I’ve wanted to tell you all night,” she said, her tender lips caressing him, kissing a wet path to his sac as her hand pumped him furiously. “I’ve been looking for a way. I’ve been too scared to say it.”

“Scared?”

“Mhmm.”

“Buffy—oh fuck!”

It was as though the century before had not existed. Had there been life before her, he didn’t want any part in it. So much time wasted in death only to be handed back life from the only one who could truly give it to him. He was blinded with her radiance, torn apart by the weight of what she gave him without even realizing it.

Her hand was around his cock and her lips were caressing his balls. Spike screwed his eyes shut and drowned in sensation, attempting to concentrate on anything that would stave off the immediacy of his orgasm. He was too afraid that this would end once he reached fruition. That despite her words, he would find himself in the middle of a dream that could never know reality, and she would vanish as she did after he awoke, and he would be alone once more.

A long, needy moan played upon his lips when her mouth returned to his length. “Buffy!” he gasped, leaning into her.

“I’m here,” she said, seemingly calm, though he heard a tremor in her voice. As though she was as overwhelmed by what was happening as he was.

Spike shook his head against the sofa. “Oh God…” Her teeth scraped his belled tip just slightly and he jerked in surprise. “Fuck, you gotta…I can’t…”

Whether or not he ever finished the thought, he didn’t know. His body took over where his mind remained uncertain, thrusting forward into her hot, wet mouth. She hummed in surprise, but didn’t deny him her touch. Rather, she drew him as far into her as possible, until his head brushed the back of her throat, and she began swallowing around him.

“Oh God!” Spike gasped, back arching off the sofa again. His eyes flew open and found hers, and that was it. The sight of her gaze trained solely on him with her mouth wrapped around his cock completely did him in. “Buffy—”

She nodded her understanding.

“I—I’m—”

Then it was over. He tumbled into oblivion with a passionate roar, fingers fisting her hair as he emptied himself into her welcoming throat. He’d always thought that the old adage of seeing stars was nothing more than a romantic’s notion, but god tonight, he knew it was true. With her mouth around him, her arousal perfuming the air and the confession of love on her lips, he had never been closer to Heaven. And he wagered for everything in the world that it was as near as he’d ever get.

Buffy had given him stars.

“Oh my God,” he panted. “Oh Buffy.”

Her tongue was busy licking him clean.

“Buffy…ahhh! Please…” He reached for her, and amazingly—amazingly—she obliged him. The next thing he knew, she was straddling his waist, and her mouth engulfed his in a fiery kiss. Spike’s blood sang, and this time, there was no pulling back. She devoured him in her hungry inferno, her tongue dancing with his, her hands at his shoulders, then around his neck. There had never been a sweeter homecoming.

It was over in a blink. Her mouth left his softly and she extracted herself from his embrace, leaving him in a daze on the sofa.

“Sweetheart?” he asked, his voice ragged, an octave away from pleading; an octave that fell the next second. “Don’t leave. God, please, don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” she replied, turning her hands to her jeans as she kicked off her shoes.

Spike’s unbeating heart raced, his eyes wide as she stripped her pants down her legs. “Oh God…” He met her gaze again, forcing an awkward smile. “You sure I’m not dreamin’?”

She smiled back and shook her head, turning her attention to his trousers where they were bunched awkwardly at mid-thigh. “You’re not dreaming,” she murmured. “I promise.”

“Buffy—”

“I told you…I love you.” Christ, she’d said it again. She’d said the words again. “No more dreaming. For either of us.”

Spike felt her tug off his boots and socks. Watched as she tossed his jeans atop hers. And then she was back in his arms, nipping his throat, the wet cotton of her panties teasing his cock. Her mouth found his again, and he melted into her kiss.

Real. It’s real. This is real.

“Buffy…” He thrust his cock against her center and moaned loudly when she took him into her hand again, stroking his shaft with something akin to reverence. His head snapped back and his eyes went wide. “Oh Jesus.”

She pressed her brow to his, panting harshly. “Spike…”

“My li’l sweetling.”

“Mmm…” A sly grin spread across her lips, and she rubbed the head of his cock with her thumb. “Someone’s happy to see me.”

He smirked. “Always,” he agreed, leaning in to nibble on her ear. His hands came to rest at the hem of her top, and he tugged once before glancing at her uncertainly. “Can I?”

Buffy nodded eagerly. “Please.”

Spike swallowed hard and kissed her, his body rejoicing in the simple feel of her lips moving against his. He was trembling uncontrollably as he lifted her top over her head, eager eyes drawing in the sight of her. She wore a simple lace bra, outwardly unremarkable, but somehow on her, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, fingers tugging at the straps.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck and licked at his skin. “Please,” she whispered.

“What, baby? What do you need?”

She drew in a deep breath, her head reeling back. Then she reached between them, grasped the sides of her panties, and to his utter astonishment, ripped them clean off her body.

“Bloody hell.”

“I figure these just get in the way.”

A slow grin played on his lips, and he kissed her, working the clasp of her bra with deliberation that betrayed his enthusiasm. “I’ll say,” he agreed with a growl. “Fuck, if I have it my way, you’ll never wear knickers again.”

She perked a brow challengingly. “Is that so?”

“Not if I have a say.”

She smiled and brushed her lips against his, her hand wrapping around his cock once more. A long shudder ran through his body as his head brushed against her wet curls, her skin slippery in want of him. It was really happening. God, this was really happening. Buffy was naked on his lap, her eyes shining with love for him, and she was about to take him into her body.

It wasn’t a figment of his imagination. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a fantasy. Buffy was really with him now.

She really loved him.

“B-Buffy…”

“Shhh,” she urged, kissing him again. And then she sank onto his cock, and his body was purged in bliss. She was so warm. So tight. So perfect. Her muscles clenched around him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, and she released the most beautiful little sigh he had ever heard.

“Ohhh, God,” she breathed.

“Ahhh…”

“Spike…” She met his eyes uncertainly. “I…it’s been a while.”

Knowledge rippled through him. He was her first. He was the first one to know her body in her new life. Her second life. The first. God, she’d practically given him her virginity, only it was more so, because she’d already experienced sex and understood the implications of what she was giving him. It wasn’t new, but it was. Like her life itself; new but old. Riley had been out of her life for practically a year now, and it’d been god-knows-how-long wherever she was.

“Are you all right?” he asked, kissing her cheek.

“I just…I don’t want to disappoint you.” She glanced down. “Bad time to mention it, huh?”

“Bloody hell, Buffy, you could never disappoint me.”

How on earth could she think such a thing?

A small smile fluttered across her face. She settled her hands on his shoulders, lifting herself off his lap with slow agony before sinking down again. He sighed again, throwing his head back. “Oh God, you’re gonna kill me,” he decided.

Buffy shook her head vehemently, lifting herself off him again. “Never,” she breathed before swallowing his cock once more. Her movements were experimental but tempered. The demon screamed for something hard and fast—his inner being rejoicing at knowing the utopia of her body at last. However, Spike knew it was important that she be in control. The shock of being inside her after a lifetime of yearning notwithstanding, he needed to do this right by her. He needed to give her what she needed.

The demon recognized her for what she was. Recognized the woman he had subconsciously claimed as mate the minute he saw her dancing in the Bronze so long ago. Her scent swam around him, her vaginal muscles squeezing him for everything he was worth with every plunge.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against her lips, cupping her breasts as his mouth descended to her throat. Her blood hummed against him, accelerated by her racing heart and the scent of sex surrounding them. “Oh God.”

“You, too,” Buffy gasped, her pace increasing. Her hands dropped to his t-shirt and pulled it over his head before lowering her mouth to his chest. Her hips were dancing against him as though fighting an oncoming wave. She drew him into her haven and released him again, and the dance repeated itself. “Ohhh…”

“Yeah, sweetling, that’s it.” He pebbled her nipples between eager fingers and tugged, watching her face hungrily.

She really wasn’t going to vanish. The heady whimpers tumbling through her throat were because of him. His cock was slick with her juices, thrusting in and out of a pussy that was now his. The slow, steady slide from her sanctuary made him wonder what it felt like to be at the gates of paradise; if she was showing him what had been robbed from her by giving it back to him. If she was showing him Heaven’s skies with the poetry of her body. If she was trying to fill in silences that he hadn’t known existed. Every time he left her, he felt bereft. A piece of him carved out and left some place untouchable. And then she would welcome him back to recapture that paradise he’d discovered within her. Over and over again. A steady slip and slide from her body. From the place where Heaven lived on earth.

His mind was running amuck with terrible clichés. A thousand verses to commit to paper—composed and forgotten in a blink. He watched her like a man starved. He lapped at her breasts and licked her nipples. He held her close, but it was never close enough. He wanted to swallow her completely. Wanted to be swallowed. He was lost in her, and he didn’t want to ever be found.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered into her breast, suckling her nipple between his teeth. “So bloody amazing.”

“Ohhh…”

He slipped a hand between them, massaging her tenderly where they were joined. She gasped and bucked against him, her thrusts becoming fast and demanding in a blink. His eyes remained trained on the fierce sight of their coupling, a slow burn engaging across his skin. A shudder raced across his skin every time her pussy swallowed him; every time his cock disappeared inside her haven. The sight of his hand playing with her excited him to no end. He watched his fingers as he caressed her clit. Enjoyed the way that every stroke he played against her body earned him a pleasured moan. She was close. God, he could taste how close she was.

“I love you,” he growled, thrusting into her as his own body spiraled closer to release. “I love you, Buffy.”

“Yes. Yes!”

“Love you.” He lowered his mouth to her throat. “You’re so hot. So tight an’ wonderful.” His hand bucked against her pussy, fingers massaging her clit feverishly, his blunt teeth scraping just slightly against her skin. “You’re a goddess. My hot, fiery goddess.”

Her blood rushed against him, her body beating his into the sofa. “Oh!”

“Buffy—”

“Spike!”

The instant he felt her walls tremble, the demon burst through, shoving the man aside. His fangs erupted in his mouth, and before the hint of rational thought could follow, he’d buried them in the Slayer’s throat. Her hoarse scream reverberated through the crypt, her body spasming hard around him, triggering his own orgasm. Spike growled into her skin. God, her blood was in his mouth. Her blood was in his mouth and she was coming hard.

Mine! the demon screamed. He refused to give the word a voice.

For a minute, it felt like the earth moved in revelation. Buffy collapsed against his shoulder, panting. His arms encircled her as he eased his fangs from her flesh, licking the small wound closed.

An eternity passed then. Right then as he held her in his arms, torn in that terrible place between uncertainty and euphoria. Unsure whether or not he had overstepped his boundaries. If she would think him disgusting for bringing his fangs into something so sacred. If she would remember why she’d called him a monster so many times. Why she’d told him no a lifetime ago when he chained her up downstairs. If this was just a fling. If she’d given him a taste of paradise—just a taste—but intended to return to her cold world of barren reality, virtue fluttering.

He didn’t know what he’d do if she left him now. If she gave him this much and then took it away. If she told him that she loved him, but not in a way that was meant to be everlasting. That she loved him, but he’d reminded her just now why vampires and slayers were never, ever supposed to be together.

He lived and died a thousand times in a matter of silent minutes.

Spike swallowed hard, shoving his fears aside. “Buffy?”

There was nothing for a long minute. Then, slowly, she raised her head and met his eyes.

“’m sorry,” he blurted before he could help himself.

A look of panic overwhelmed her. “Why? God, you’re not regretting this, are you?”

Spike blinked. Wasn’t that his line?

“Regretting this? God, luv, no.” Never. “I…I bit you.” I nearly claimed you. He didn’t tell her that part, though. He didn’t have the stones to share how little control he had over his demon. What he’d nearly done to her without so much as a friendly warning. “I could’ve—”

“Don’t be sorry for that,” she said.

“Buffy—”

“Don’t be sorry.” And she kissed him, stealing whatever lingering objection remained on his lips. Spike moaned and lost himself once again in her taste, relishing in the feel of her. She warred with his lips as though she was equally afraid that he would disappear. They clung to each other like figments of a dream they wanted to piece together.

“I love you, Spike,” she murmured. “I love you.”

Once again, the entirety of his being was engulfed in warmth. “I thought…”

“I know.”

He rested his forehead against hers and released a deep breath. “We need to talk about this, don’ we?”

She fidgeted and he moaned, his cock hardening within her. “Ooohhh, that feels good,” she whimpered.

“Buffy—”

“We need to talk about it.” She nodded her agreement, then paused and shook her head. “But not now.”

“I—”

A humorless grin played across her lips. “Believe it or not, I hadn’t intended this to happen like…this,” she said, edging herself off his lap. He whimpered as his erection slipped out of her, but didn’t have the heart to object. More sex before talking was likely not the best idea. Especially with the look she was giving him.

Oh God.

“You’re not…you’re not leavin’, are you?”

She frowned, rising to her feet. He tried to not be distracted by her nudity. “I should,” she conceded softly.

God, Buffy, please don’ leave.

But he didn’t say that. “Dawn,” he acknowledged reasonably, hoping he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt. “An’ the witches. You need—”

“I said I should,” Buffy emphasized.

Hope rippled through him. “You’re stayin’?”

“If…if it’s okay.”

Amazingly, she said it as though he might actually object. Spike jumped up and tugged her into a tight hug. “Okay?” he demanded. “Okay? Buffy, I’d cross all Hell for the chance to keep you one bloody night. An’ now…god, now…”

Now that you love me.

She smiled and kissed him. “More than one night,” she said before bending over to gather his discarded shirt from the ground, giving his cock a fond squeeze before she straightened again. “You mind if I borrow this?”

Mind?

“Looks better on you,” he told her, flicking the television off after locating the remote from where it had wedged itself between sofa cushions.

“I disagree,” she replied stubbornly.

“You would.”

“You’re damn sexy in this thing.”

“I’m damn sexy in anythin’, so that doesn’ count,” he retorted with a wink. “Come to think of it, so are you. But you…you’re wearin’ that shirt the way it’s meant to be worn. Can’t bloody well compete with that.

She blushed prettily, and that was the end of that debate.

He reached for her hand, pleased when his skin tingled as it had all night when her fingers linked through his. And then, as though in a dream, he led her toward the downstairs of the crypt. For a minute, shame cast over him for the thought of keeping her in a place meant for the dead, but the look in her eyes was so earnest, so full of love, that he didn’t have the courage to mention it.

It didn’t occur to him until he turned down the bed that there would be a tomorrow. The sun would rise and bring life to a new day. And Buffy…God, Buffy was going to be with him when he awoke. They would talk tomorrow, and god-willing, they would both finally get that blessed break from the Powers that they so richly deserved.

Buffy curled in his arms after he settled into bed next to her. She kissed his throat and murmured that she loved him, and fell asleep to the gentle strokes of his hands as he caressed her shoulder through the shirt he’d given her.

She fell asleep in his bed, in his arms, as though they’d been doing this for years. As though they were made for this sort of simple but priceless bliss.

Spike was almost afraid to close his eyes, a small part of him still toying with the possibility that he was lost in some wonderful dream. But no. No. Buffy felt too real to be nothing more than an allusion. She was real beneath his touch, just as she would be real tomorrow. She was real.

And for the first night in as many days since walking into the foyer of her home and seeing her there on the stairs, he was truly at peace. There was no more screaming for vindication. No more weeping for the life she lamented.

He would make heaven on earth for her, if she couldn’t have it above. He would make her forget the taste of paradise for something much sweeter, much more precious than death could have ever offered.

The time for penance was over. Life would begin again tomorrow. Begin as it never had before. Begin as it was meant to begin.

That promise resided just beyond morning.

Part Five

Spike couldn’t keep himself from staring at her. God, she was magnificent.

Despite the night’s reassurances, he’d awoken every hour, certain that she would have fled after she realized what she’d done. After the magic of the holiday was over; after morning had chased away the night, and brought with it the consequences of everything she had said. Everything she had done. Everything that she couldn’t run away from, or change.

But amazingly, every time he opened his eyes in a panic, she was still curled in his arms.

This was the stuff dreams were made of, he realized. A wish he’d whispered to the heavens god-knows how long ago, answered finally after so much pain.

She loves me, he thought. She really loves me.

Did he dare grasp the happiness flooding around him? Did he dare believe the PTB might have finally given him what he wanted? Did he dare eat a peach?

Did he dare disturb the universe?

Spike drew in a breath and ran a hand down her arm, pressing his lips to her brow.

Do I dare?

He brushed a few wayward strands of hair from her face and smiled lovingly at her sleeping face. For her, he’d gamble the world. She’d loved him the night before; there was no reason she wouldn’t love him now.

He kissed her brow again. “Buffy?”

She didn’t move. She was lost in sleep. Her naked body was pressed against his intimately; her left arm curled around his waist, her leg over his, her head resting on his shoulder. The feel of her pressed against him was enough to make him tremble with awe.

The night had been very good to him, but Christ, he wanted more.

“Sweetheart?” he murmured, sitting up. Buffy moaned and shifted at the movement, her arms subconsciously reaching for him but grabbing a pillow in her sleepy haze. He smiled at her, his lips grazing her shoulder. She looked so comfortable. So peaceful. As though she had not slept a night through until curling up in his sheets.

She didn’t belong in a hole in the ground. She belonged in sunlight.

He was just too selfish to give her up. He would be nowhere if he lost this.

The other blokes in her life might be the type who could be so self-sacrificial. Angel, after all, had left her because he knew there were things he couldn’t provide. But she couldn’t ever have normal. Spike knew that. Hell, she’d tried it, and look where that had landed her. Buffy wasn’t meant for normal. If she decided that he was the one she wanted, he was going to spend the rest of his unlife making sure she never regretted it.

“So sweet,” he murmured, lips grazing her shoulder. One taste, inevitably, led to an unquenchable desire to sample the rest of her. The previous night had happened so fast he hadn’t had the opportunity to even consider the million plus things he’d yearned to do to her. He’d always imagined it different. He’d always thought he’d be the seducer. He’d have to take considerable time to break down the barriers her former lovers had helped her construct. He’d bath her body with his tongue; worship her the way she’d never been worshipped. Show her the way it was meant to be between people who truly loved each other. How it was meant to be with a man who know what he had when he touched the woman he loved. He wouldn’t change the way it had happened last night for anything, but there was still so much to show her. He needed her to know that she would never, ever be taken for granted.

The miserable nights following her death had been accompanied with mocking renditions of unrequited fantasies—anguishing dreams in which she came to him, cupped his face, and whispered against his lips that she wanted to love him with her body. Now the dreams were reality. Now everything that he wanted was literally at his fingertips.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin. There was liberation in the words. Freedom that he had considered a burden for so long. First with the realization, then with her rejection, then her calm but distant friendship, and her death. Her death that had nearly claimed him, too, were it not for a promise he refused to break.

Then she came back, and his world dissolved in tortuous bliss. He had her back, but he’d never truly had her in the first place. So he’d tormented himself by visiting her whenever possible. Watched that look overwhelm her eyes and know that anything he wanted to do to eradicate her pain would be rejected.

Only she started coming to him when he didn’t go to her. And last night—God, last night—she had blown away his fear. She had shattered the inadequacy he always felt when he looked at her. She loved him.

“Mmmm,” Buffy murmured, rolling onto her back. The sheet dragged down her body, bearing her breasts to his hungry gaze. He released a small, possessive growl, suckling a nipple between his teeth as his disobedient hands began to wander. “Spike…”

A thrill ran up his spine. She dreams of me.

“’m here, baby,” he rumbled, his fingers sliding over her pussy, cupping her intimately. “’m right here.”

“Ohhh…” Buffy released a heady gasp, her eyes flying open. And despite everything, Spike felt his chest constrict with impending dread. October was gone, the day had chased away the night, and now she was left to the consequences brought with morning.

But she loves me.

“Good morning,” he purred, his thumb sliding over her clit.

“Ahhhh.” She squeezed her eyes shut and thrust into his touch. “Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“Mmmm…Spike…”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the swell of her breast. “That’s not an answer, luv.”

“God, that feels good,” she whimpered, her right hand clutching his head. “Ohhh…”

Spike growled against her, his mouth wandering south. Her wetness ran over his skin, taunting his tastebuds, and the small whimpers that tore through her throat drove him completely out of his mind. He needed her like he needed blood; the way other men needed air and water. She was everything. God, he needed to show her that she was everything.

“Oh God!” she cried when he nestled his face between her legs. “Spike!”

“Need to drink you,” he murmured, nipping at her clit. “Need to make you come.”

“Ohhh…”

“Know we promised to talk, sweet.” He lapped at her with a devilish grin. “I jus’ can’t resist your taste.”

“No talk. More taste,” she agreed, arching into his mouth.

He chuckled richly, and she shivered at the vibrations that played through her body. “Fuck, you’re delicious,” he murmured, lapping his tongue up her slit as his fingers stroked her sensitive pearl. “Like baked apples.”

“Unh!”

“So beautiful.” He licked her outer lips, nibbling lightly on her moist folds as his fingers caressed her slippery skin. The whimpers and cries that rumbled through her throat were his opus; a symphony he’d longed to hear, played to perfection against the stillness of his crypt. Buffy was on his bed. He was buried in her delectable pussy, and she was moaning his name. Her body writhed because of his touch and her juices flooded his mouth. She was everywhere. She was the air he didn’t need to breathe and the blood that kept him alive. She was poured into every crevice of his existence. His tongue lapped at her eagerly, his arms curling under her thighs and anchoring her into his mouth. She was allowing him to drink the nectar of the gods. The taste of her set the still blood in his veins ablaze. There was nothing in the world like this. Nothing. And it was all his.

Mine, mine, mine, mine.

“Spiiiike,” she gasped, thrusting herself against his face. “Oh my God.”

“You’re incredible,” he whispered. “Taste so fucking good.”

“Ohhh…”

He licked her opening once more as his fingers abandoned her sensitive button. He met her smoldering gaze as she cried out in protest, staring at him in wide-eyed need. He didn’t wait. Couldn’t. Not while she looked at him like that. He slipped his middle and ring finger inside her, thrusting upward so that his index finger would strike her clit with every drive. And for a few seconds, he was content simply to watch her writhe. Watch the way she panted and begged, her pelvis arching into his touch in a wordless demand for more.

“You like that?” Spike growled, curling his fingers inside her.

“Oh God!”

“You’re gorgeous.” He leaned forward and licked at her nipples. “So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Spike! Spike…oh God!”

The sound of her crying out his name like that was nearly too much in itself. God, how often had he dreamt of this? Of being on the receiving end of her sighs and moans, her love and affection. She didn’t look away when his hungry eyes devoured her face. Didn’t try to fool herself into believing she was with someone else.

The accumulation of everything he wanted was right here.

Buffy licked her lips and murmured in approval as his mouth dropped to her skin once more, lapping a wet path back to her pussy. “Yes…Spike, please…”

“Mmm…love that. Beg me some more.”

She tried to glare at him, but her efforts died without struggle. “Please!” she gasped, thrusting against him.

He grinned and nipped at her inner thigh, his gaze trained on the sight of his fingers as they disappeared over and over again into her haven. Too soon he envied his hand for the cool manipulation of her body, and lowered his mouth again. He suckled at her labia, consuming every inch of her drenched flesh before returning to her engorged clit, his tongue circling her once, twice, before drawing the bundle into his mouth.

Buffy’s fingers threaded through his hair, massaging his scalp lovingly. “Spike…ohhh, God…”

Every whimper that escaped her went straight to his cock. He grunted ineloquently and flicked her with his tongue as he ground himself against the mattress. “Mmmm.”

“You’re amazing,” she gasped, her head flying back. “So amazing.”

The words made him tremble. His hand bucked against her as his mouth played her to release. He needed to taste her orgasm. Needed it to wash over him. Needed to know that he could give her just a bit of what she had given him the night before. That he could create paradise for her—he could give her what had been stolen.

“Oh, yes!”

It was only the beginning, Spike vowed as his teeth scraped at her sodden flesh. Only the beginning. He plunged his tongue back inside her tight, wet hole, groaning as her juices filled his mouth. He was never letting her go. He delved and drank. He fondled her to perfection, pulled away, then did it again. His mouth made love to her, rumbling his delight at her taste against the heat of her skin. He could stay here forever. Needing her. Worshipping her. Loving her. He found that perfect spot within her and stroked with vehemence until her muscles clamped around him, her thighs trapping his head, and her tremors reach their apex. He grasped her sweetly to hold her steady, and he drank her down with fervor as she cried out in euphoric release. She whispered his name with reverence; he consumed everything. Every mewl. Every arch. Her sobbing in pleasure was the sweetest music he’d ever heard. He felt ready to combust simply by watching her. By knowing that he could give her this; that he had the power to do this to her. It was everything. Every tear he’d shed, every death wish he’d uttered, every sobbing confession he’d poured over her grave—she was the answer to prayers he didn’t remember making. His Slayer was the picture of ageless perfection, and he was eternally hers.

Spike’s arms remained wrapped around her waist, holding her tenderly as her body spent its shudders. He rested against her stomach and drew her in, enjoying the feel of her fingers running through his hair. “Buffy…” he murmured into her skin. “Christ, I love you so much.”

He felt her tremble. “I love you, too.”

His eyes fluttered shut and a deep shudder quaked through his body. “You do?” he dared himself to ask, meeting her gaze the next minute.

A frown marred her beautiful face. She reached for him, cupping his cheek. “I do. I…I didn’t just say it to get what I wanted last night.”

“I know that.” He offered a half-smile. “’S jus’…feels too bloody good to be true.”

Buffy shook her head. “I love you. I have for a while…I was just too scared or too…I dunno. Too stupid. Too something to say it.”

“Scared?”

She blushed charmingly and glanced away. “I’m not saying my reasoning makes sense,” she said. “It’s just…everyone I’ve loved, or thought I loved has left me. Maybe I thought—”

That sealed it. The last stone fell into place. “Never leavin’ you,” he swore ardently. “Never. I can’t. It’d bloody well kill me.”

“Me too.”

He offered a loving smile and kissed her stomach. “Guess I’m jus’ waitin’ for the other shoe to drop,” he said. “Like you love me, but we can’t be together, or your mates can’t know about it, or—”

“No.”

“No?”

Buffy shook her head fervently. “No. It can’t happen like that. I love you and you’re a part of my life. I’m not hiding. I don’t care what my friends think.”

“Really?”

“They tore me from the one place where I’ve never…” She tensed and looked away, her hand finding his and squeezing hard. “I’m not going to let them take me away from the one man that’s ever helped my life make any sense. Be it as enemies or allies…or lovers.”

“I favor that last one, personally.”

She smiled. “Me, too. But…I don’t owe them anything. I’ve already died so that they can live…what more do they want for me? I’m so sick of living on a pedestal. They want me to be perfect…well, I’m human, so that’s pretty much out of the question. I can’t be perfect for them. I can’t be normal. I don’t know why I ever thought I could.”

“You wanted it, baby,” Spike murmured rationally. “You’ve wanted normal ever since I firs’ knew you.”

An incredulous snicker erupted from her lips. “Yeah,” she agreed. “What’s normal?”

“Boring,” he supplied.

“Well, I mean, normal is relative. I’m the Slayer. My normal isn’t going to be Jane Doe’s normal. I can’t have that…and if I did, yeah, I think I’d be bored out of my mind.”

“Like you were with Captain Cardboard.”

“Hey.” She scowled at him, though her eyes were dancing. “That’s not nice.”

Spike shrugged unrepentantly. “’m not a nice bloke,” he said. “Plus, I happen to be right. You, Slayer, were bored off your extremely bitable ass.”

“That’s beside the point.”

He arched a brow. “Is it?”

“Well, no, but my being bored wasn’t Riley’s fault. I should’ve seen it, but I was so determined to hold onto my stupid normal so that my friends wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that I was in love with another vampire.”

Spike froze and looked at her in awe. “Buffy?”

She smiled and caressed his cheek. “Well, to be honest, I was in denial for years.”

“So was I.”

“Yeah, but you had Psycho Woman to help you figure it out.”

“How’d you know about that?”

Buffy released a deep breath. “Dawn. Dawn and I have talked a lot about you…recently, anyway. Over the past few days…in my slow but steady reemergence into the land of the hellmouthy living. She’s told me everything you told her over the summer.”

“Bit should know better than yappin’.”

“She wants me to be happy. And you, too.” She paused. “Tara also told me some things. About how you were…how you’ve been. And other things, too. Like how you came by last year to leave flowers for Mom but Xander said it was—”

Spike scowled. “Yeh,” he said. “I remember. Don’ recall the Good Witch bein’ there, though.”

She shrugged. “Guess these are communal stories that they’ve told each other.”

“An’ what are you gonna tell them, then?” he asked. “’Bout us?”

“They don’t deserve any explanations.”

“Well, yeh, but…”

Buffy squeezed his hand and smiled. “I’m not going to keep it from them, Spike. You’re a part of my life. A big part.”

Hope filled his insides. “An’ what happens next?”

“I really don’t know. Like I said last night, this wasn’t exactly how I planned things to happen.”

Spike smiled. “Plans too often bugger themselves over, pet,” he murmured, prowling up her body slowly, eyes flickering with passion as his erection nudged her sodden folds. “Jus’ like I’m about to do with you.”

“Ohhhh…I think I like being buggered.”

He chuckled. “Not quite, though ‘f you’re up for it, I might get brave one night. Though you should use my words more often. Bloody adorable,” he decided, shifting upward just slightly, teasing them both as the head of his cock rubbed against her wet flesh. “Oh, God.”

“Get inside me.”

A brow perked. “So bossy.”

“Do it. A sexually frustrated slayer is a dangerous slayer.”

Spike smirked, slipping into her body with a sigh of completion. “Baby, with me, you’ll never be sexually frustrated.”

“So cocky.”

He withdrew and slammed into her again, relishing her cry as she arched into him. “An’ don’ you forget it.”

Buffy whimpered, her hands flying to his forearms, nails digging into his skin as her hips moved with his. She was so tight. So hot. So bloody perfect. “Oh, God,” she whimpered, her muscles contracting around him. “Spike…”

“You’re a goddess.”

She mewled and squeezed him again.

“Yeh, that’s it, baby,” Spike purred against her. “Dance with me.”

“Feels so good.”

“You, too. Like nothin’ I’ve ever felt before.” He slid his hands up her sides and cupped her breasts, watching her reverently as she arched into him. He moved in slow, indulgent strokes, relishing the feel of her walls squeezing his cock for everything he was worth. Of her head thrown back in pleasure, rapture flashing across her face that he had given her. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over the nape of her throat.

“Uhh…” She scratched at his shoulders. “You’re not so…unperfect yourself.”

He merely grinned and laved a wet path around her nipple, his thrusts becoming harder. “You won’ find anyone else who does this to you,” he growled. “An’ if you try, I’ll rip his throat out.”

“Spike…”

“You’re mine, Buffy. All mine.”

“Yes, yes!”

He ground his hips into hers, his fingers slipping between them and finding her clit. “Say it.”

She forced her eyes open. “Say what?” she asked, an innocent smile fluttering across her lips.

Spike’s demon snarled in return, though his eyes lit up and a wicked smirk tugged at his mouth. “Oh, you’re gonna get it.”

“Promises, promises.”

He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. “Say it!”

She released a soft whimper, her vaginal muscles squeezing his cock mercilessly. “Not like that, I won’t,” she sighed, though her tone lacked conviction.

“Villainous minx,” he growled, pulling out of her completely, swallowing her gasp of protest with a fiery kiss. He took himself in his hand and deliberately brushed against her sensitive folds, sliding himself against her curls, his balls smacking her pussy. “Say it.”

“Spike!”

“Not gonna give you anythin’ until you say it.”

She scowled at him. “You’re an egomaniac.”

“Yes, but that’s not what I want you to say.”

Buffy tried to hold her glare on him but whimpered instead, conceding with a fervent nod and thrusting herself wantonly against him. “Yes, yes,” she agreed, nodding. “I’m yours. I’m so yours.”

The demon growled and demanded fangs. Spike staved off his gut instinct, his awe-filled eyes soaking up her face. “Really?” The confident swagger of just a second ago had vanished. The words made his demand real. God, the words made everything so real.

“Yes! Yours. Forever. Please, Spike, stop teasing me!”

“You’re not jus’ sayin’ it?” he asked, voice trembling with need.

She expelled a long, tortured sob, her own hand sliding between them and cupping her pussy. “Please!” she pleaded, stroking herself. “Not just saying it. Love you. Love you so much. Please!”

Spike smiled and caressed her mouth with his, grasping her wrist and pinning her hands to the mattress as his cock slid back within her. “That’s all I wanted to hear, pet.”

She sighed in completion, her eyes finding his. “Ohhh…”

“Mine,” he murmured, releasing her arms, which immediately wrapped around his neck as his mouth found hers. He kissed her wildly without abandon, his hands cupping her breasts and his thumbs rubbing her nipples. The intensity of his thrusts grew feral, the sound of their smacking flesh filling the still crypt with passion he hadn’t known could burn so desperately. He’d known it would be magnificent between them, of course. He’d known that from the second he spotted her so many years ago, dancing at the Bronze. But God, he’d never known it could be like this.

He hadn’t known anything like this even existed.

“I love you,” he roared. “I love you.”

“Yes!”

Spike abandoned one breast to his mouth as his hand scaled between them, sliding over her clit and stroking her furiously. Her gasps scratched at the room, and suddenly she was coming. Her muscles tightened around him and her body spasmed, and her release crashed over him.

Fuck. I’m yours.

“Buffy Buffy Buffy,” he babbled, his fangs exploding in his mouth. “Need…I need…”

She nodded. “It’s okay.”

“Buffy—”

“Do it.”

His incisors sliced into her milk flesh, and he snarled into her as he spilled himself inside her welcoming body. His mouth was tempted again with words that he refused to release, his mind racing in eager compensation as his hips crashed against hers, her blood flowing in his throat.

Mine. You’re mine. Forever. For bloody ever. Never lettin’ you go. Mine!

“Yes. Oh yes.”

A shiver seized him and something within locked. Something unforeseen. Reluctantly, Spike withdrew his fangs from her throat and licked the wound closed. He rested his brow against hers, panting as the world was returned to him. If he lived a thousand years, he would never get enough of the feel of her flesh wrapped around his. Never tire of the bliss from her kisses, or the adoration glowing in her eyes. He kept meaning to show her Heaven on earth, but it was he who she admitted into paradise. Over and over again—a simple look, a fleeting touch. The love that shone through every glance she graced him with.

He wanted her forever.

“Mine,” he whispered against her lips.

“Yes,” she replied. “I told you.”

He smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

A giddy chuckle escaped his lips, and he kissed her spontaneously. “I never thought…” He broke off, shaking his head. “God…best bloody night of my life.”

Buffy smiled lovingly and ran her hands through his hair. “Mine, too,” she whispered. “I can’t…” And then to his astonishment, her face crumbled into tears. The ambiguity of female hormones. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t…if I’d come back and you were gone. I don’t think I could…”

“Shhh.” He brushed a tender kiss across her forehead, rolling them to their sides. “’S all right, sweetheart. Won’t ever leave.”

“I know. I know.” She laughed shortly and wiped at her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’ be.”

“I didn’t mean to go all Hollywood Weepy Girl on you.”

“’F anyone has an excuse…”

Buffy laughed again and shook her head. “I feel like I’ve gone forever without crying,” she said. “For a while, I thought I’d forgotten how. Some things…the normal things feel like I left them behind.”

“They’re all a part of bein’ human, luv,” he told her gently. “There’s no bloody manual on how to recuperate after your friends rip you out of paradise.”

“There’s you.”

“Well, I’m taken. Any other birds whose friends are bloody idiots are outta luck.”

She flexed her muscles, squeezing his cock within her. “Damn right.”

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

“I want you to move in with me.”

Spike’s eyes went wide and he stared at her in astonishment. “What?”

Her cheeks rouged and she tore her gaze away. “I mean…if you want to, that is. Of course only if you want to. I know we just got together and you have a nice place already and it’s kinda against the vampire constitution to move above ground…but…I’d like you to move in with me. I feel more at home here than I do at home, but I don’t think it’d help my friends if I told them I was moving into the graveyard. Plus…kinda creepy. I don’t wanna be married to my work, you know?”

Her nervous rambling enchanted him. “Buffy,” he said softly, kissing her temple. “Is there any scenario runnin’ through that pretty head of yours in which I say no?”

“I just…most guys would look for the nearest exit if the girl asked them to move in after just one night of hot monkey sex.”

“’m not most blokes,” he growled. “I’m so in love with you it hurts, an’ if I can be near you…live in the same place—”

“But your crypt—”

“Sod the bloody crypt. It’s a mess an’ not worth keepin’.”

She quirked a brow. “Say we’re patrolling and I get very horny.”

“Best crypt in town, this is. Lovely place. Our weekend getaway, yeh?”

Buffy grinned. “I thought so.”

Spike smirked and kissed her. “What about the witches?”

She shrugged. “What about them? It’s my house, right? Says so in the deed that I had to sign after Mom died. So if they’re not gonna pay rent, they can find some other place to live.”

“You’re gorgeous when you’re authoritative.” He rolled onto his back, his cock slipping out of her, and they shared a murmur of complaint. “Come to think of it,” he said, grinning as she stretched across his chest. “You’re always gorgeous.”

Her cheeks reddened and she poked his side. “You’re a sap.”

“You love it.”

“I’m gonna make rent super cheap for Will and Tara. I’ll be the best landlord ever.”

“I have no doubt.”

“But we get the big bedroom. My house, my rules.”

Spike’s eyes danced. “You have no quarrel with me, baby.”

“Of course, getting up to tell them all this would require…well, getting up.” She poked her bottom lip out, casting her legs astride his waist. “Getting dressed.” Her small, skilled hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him gently. “Get all…unnaked.”

“Bugger that,” he growled.

“You have a better plan?”

“Yeh.” He slid two fingers inside her, eyes blazing. “’S called shag me silly.”

“Ohhhh.” Buffy licked her lips, her hips shifting over him so that he was positioned at her opening. “I like that plan.” They sighed together when she sank down, sliding his cock into her warm pussy again. The place where he belonged. “Though I do have to go home at some point.”

“Some point,” Spike agreed with a long moan, taking her breasts into his hands as she began to ride him. “Not now.”

“Not now.”

There was peace within her. Peace that she hadn’t thought the world had to offer anymore. Peace that she thought had died in place of her resurrection. Spike’s arms were around her, his body moving with hers. He gave her peace. He looked at her with love that took her breath away. He infused her being with hope. Perhaps there could be something to follow Heaven. An act so sublime, she couldn’t begin to comprehend its supremacy.

Perhaps.

They would have forever for everything else. To deal with her friends, to answer to her Watcher, to be the Slayer in the place of a world that had already one too many.

It was a cool November morning, and for the first time in what had seemed an eternity, her life was cushioned in solace.

She could almost swear she had awoken in paradise.

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