Spike awoke with the entire Naval Drum Corps in his head, and the sunlight beaming sharply between the blinds didn't help either. He groaned pathetically and grabbed a pillow to smother his head with. Then he noticed the feel, smell, and color of the pillow. Where the hell was he? He sat up abruptly, only to regret it a second later and collapse back into the pillows.

Way to intensify your headache, mate, he sarcastically congratulated himself, clenching his teeth and squinting his eyes shut desperately to ward off the pain. Rolling slightly to his side, he opened his eyes cautiously to get a feel for his surroundings. A bucket of cold water with two beers, a bottle of aspirin, and a glass of water with a note taped to the side greeted him. The scrawled handwriting that read "Spike" on the outside of the note confirmed his disbelieving, but hopeful suspicions. He tentatively reached out and pulled the paper from its place and opened it in the warm light of the afternoon.

Spike~

Relax, you haven't been kidnapped. Just be glad you have friends in high places. I left you the best hangover cure I know- some bartender at the Bronze back when I was in college taught it to me. Ring any bells? Anyway, I'm around the house doing housework, so you can come and find me if and when you are ready. If not, then get more sleep, you were pretty "shnockered".

~Buffy

Spike smiled slightly, and ran his finger over her signature. Then he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up carefully, so as not to jar himself again. He downed the beers, water, and aspirin in several moments, eager in a scared sort of way to see Buffy again. The sound of a dirt devil reached his ears and he ran his hands over his face and curls before standing up and moving towards the closed door.

His door opened into a wide hallway, one side lined with doors, and the other, the part in front of him, lined with a railing that overlooked the foyer and led to the gigantic staircase. Buffy was on the staircase, her hair pulled back with a bandanna and headphones overtop. She was vacuuming the carpet that ran down the hardwood steps, bobbing her head to her music, and mouthing along. Spike bit back a smile and approached nervously. She didn't notice him stepping down the stairs as she continued her work. He reached out and brushed her bare shoulder with the tips of his shaking fingers.

Buffy whirled around, startled, and then was instantly pinned by two hot, rain-washed blue eyes. She dropped the cordless vacuum in surprise and blushed instantly when it went crashing down the steps. Spike's eyebrow arched amusedly and he reached out again to pull the blaring headphones away from her ears. Buffy's face flared even brighter and she quickly tugged them off herself, wanting his touch desperately, but not wanting it even more. Her fingers found the stop button on the discman. Silence settled over the foyer as Buffy and Spike looked into each other's eyes for the first time in 9 years.

"Hi," Buffy breathed, hand over her tanktop-clad chest and rapidly beating heart.

"Hi," Spike responded, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms. Oh, what the hell...he thought before speaking again, "May I hug you?"

Buffy's eyes grew wider and she nodded stupidly. He put his arms around her waist, ever so slowly, and pulled her against his chest. She let herself grow weak in his arms, and closed her eyes to keep herself from crying with the utter joy and sorrow of being in his embrace again. Spike dropped his head to her shoulder and breathed in the scent of her hair and skin. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, putting her nose into the folds of his leather jacket that she hadn't bothered to remove from him the night before.

She pulled away when the emotion in her body almost caused her to collapse completely into his strength. She wiped her nose and smiled nervously.

"So...how are you feeling this morning?" she asked him, uncomfortably playing with the curled ends of her ponytail that lay over her shoulder.

"Better. I need to take a shower though. I smell like a soddin' drunk. How'd you find me?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?" she said with a pointed look, then shook her head and waved her hand in the air, "Never mind that. We'll talk about that when you aren't in a hangover state. Well, it just so happens that the bar you decided to drink at is the bar I happen to co-own. Rustic Bend is mine."

Spike's eyes lit up with respect and astonishment, "Wow, way to go. It was a nice place. Wha' I remember of it was nice, I mean," he joked, eyes flitting down the staircase to look around curiously, "So you live here with your family?"

Buffy took a deep breath, "Spike, again, I think we should talk about this later. Why don't you go get a shower and stuff? Dinner will be ready in about an hour and a half. You slept the day away."

He nodded, dreading finding out about her family when they talked. It was the whole reason he’d gotten drunk, after all. He turned to head up the stairs again when he saw a gigantic painting on the wall next to the door to the guest room. When he looked down more of the hall that was visible, he saw more like it. He turned back to Buffy, a delighted light in his eyes.

"Those are mine," he stated softly, a warm feeling spreading through his chest that she was displaying his artwork even after all these years.

Buffy looked down bashfully, "Yeah, well, you left them. I kept them. And then Mom told me that you stepped out of your shell and started sending your work to her gallery, so every Christmas since then she has sent me a piece for my gift," she explained, shrugging her shoulders, "Just because you and I have problems, doesn't mean I hate what you have made. They are beautiful."

Spike turned back at her mention of their problems, and looked at her with emotional eyes.

"Buffy," he started beseechingly. Buffy raised her hand again to cut him off.

"Forget it, Spike. We'll talk about it later. Go get cleaned up. My friend Wesley from the Bend is gonna bring by your rental car in a couple of minutes, and I'm assuming your suitcase is in there, so I'll bring it up and put it outside the bathroom door for you, okay?"

He nodded slowly and gave her one last lingering look before climbing the top few stairs and disappearing into the guest room.

Spike couldn't take his eyes off of Nicholas throughout dinner. He knew better than to try to discuss the implications of this child with Buffy now, and Nicholas knew better than to say more things that would make everything even more uncomfortable. Both males sat studying each other while Buffy kept glancing nervously back and forth between them while she took tiny bites of chicken.

"How was baseball practice today, Nicholas?" Buffy asked softly, breaking the silence that hung over the table.

"Awesome! I hit a home-run and the ball flew like a bazillion miles away. Mikey Rellison hadta climb in the bushes behind the fence to get it." Nicholas said excitedly, tossing a piece of carrot up the air and hitting it with his knife to demonstrate his triumph. The vegatable slice flew across the table, only to be caught by Spike. He winked at Nicholas before popping it into his mouth. Nicholas grinned and glanced at his mom, who had a smile glimmering on her own lips.

"Do you play soccer, too? Thats my favorite sport. Used to play it back in England." Spike spoke up. Nicholas nodded, his mouth full.

"Yeah. He's pretty good too. He plays every sport he can get into. Even horseback riding." Buffy informed Spike proudly, leaning back after she finished her dinner. Pride tinted Spike's face as well, and he looked back at Nicholas with his eyes sparkling. "Honey, why don't you go finish your homework while I clear the table and then we'll all watch a movie tonight, okay?"

"If I hafta..." he whined, sliding out of his chair. Buffy raised an motherly 'Don't argue' eyebrow at him, and he slunk out of the dining room. A second later he jumped back in, and threw his arms around sitting Spike's shoulders, squeezed, let go just as abruptly, and then galloped up the steps. Spike looked dazedly into space, his hands coming up to touch the part of his shoulders where his son hugged him. Buffy ducked her head as she blushed and busied herself with clearing the table.

Spike took a deep breath and watched Buffy seriously, combing his fingers through his dark hair.

"I can't believe this." he muttered to her. She paused slightly and glanced at him, and then wiped her hands on a cloth as she finished up.

"Wanna take a walk?" she asked the man staring at her. Spike nodded and stood up, his eyes simmering with emotion and intent to get all answers. Buffy scribbled a note to Nicholas, pulled on a sweater and waved at Spike to follow her out to the veranda.

They walked in silence for a moment, up the hill and into the woods. He offered his hand to help her over the fence but she ignored him and leapt over herself. Then they proceeded to wander into the moonlit forest. He finally broke the silence.

"Why..." Spike began, his voice pathetically broken, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Buffy took a gigantic breath before speaking, "Hmm...I tried once. A long time ago. It was one of those days, you know? Nicholas was 4 months old, and crying so hard. I couldn't get him to stop. I was living in a dingy apartment downtown, my job sucked. I was so poor. And so frustrated with Nicholas...god, it was horrible. So I called Oz and asked for the number where you were staying." Buffy took another breath, and buried her hands in her pockets, bending her head as she spoke, "He said you were living in Los Angeles, and gave me the number. I was in tears when I called it. Your voicemail picked up. And then I hung up, threw away the number and moved on."

He stopped walking to stare at her, feeling the anger and regret grow in his chest, "God, Buffy, if you would have just given me a chance and-"

"And what!? Left a message? 'Hi Spike, its Buffy, your Best Friend turned One Night Stand, remember me? Just called to say hi! By the way, I just gave birth to your son!' " Buffy laughed in disbelief at Spike's nod, "Get a grip! I couldn't do that! I decided the moment I heard your stupid voicemail that I was gonna raise Nicholas alone. I didn't want you involved."

"He was- IS...my repsonsiblity too!" Spike shouted back, "I bloody well DESERVED to know about him!!"

"I loved you, Spike. And you hurt me. SO. MUCH. Remember Parker telling me that the monumental night to me was just for fun for him? Remember Riley telling me that I wasn't the long-haul girl? Remember Forrest telling me that I was only good for sex? Yeah, well, remember Spike, telling me to give him space after I told him how much I loved him?" Buffy pointed out mockingly, "You've been added to the wonderful list of men who have ripped me apart inside!! Why would I bring you into my son's life!?"

"Because he's MINE. And if I'm one of those horrible guys, then why did you even try to call me that one time?" Spike asked coldly, stepping forward and getting into Buffy's angry face.

"I was frustrated! Hurt! Confused! Hungry! Lonely! Poor! Do you need more pathetic words that would describe me?" Buffy shot back, "It was a moment of weakness. I was tired. And then I remembered how I didn't want to depend on other people anymore. I always needed someone back in California. I needed you, I needed Riley, and Willow, and Faith, even Xander, Anya, Tara. And I lost people over my need. I was always little Buffy who needed a best friend. And then I came here, and I had no one, except this tiny boy who was.... my gift and curse at the same time. And I had to be strong. For once in my fucking life I had to do it myself. For me, and for Nicholas."

Buffy's voice grew achingly soft as she finished talking, her face falling from its proud and fighting position, to a timid one. Spike itched to touch her, but instead took a step back.

"Buffy..." he began, and left the word to fade into the dark forest surrounding them. Buffy sniffed, and looked up at him, eyes full and watery.

"I...I'm sorry that I didn't try to get in touch with you. I really am. But do you get why I didn't?" she breathed, tilting her head seriously, pleading almost, for him to understand. Spike looked into her eyes, and found himself understanding everything about why she had disappeared from his life for 9 years. He stepped forward again, eyes never leaving hers.

Buffy gasped when his fingers touched her neck, and then slid upward into her hair. His other hand followed suit, so he stood, holding her head, thumbs gently caressing her jawbone.

"Spike..." she breathed in hesitation, blinking slowly as her heartbeat picked up. He leaned forward, and ever. So. Softly. Pressed his lips to hers.

She was falling...everything was crumbling around her. All of her strength rushed out her body as Spike's lips opened against her bottom lip. Her hands slid up his leather-clad chest on their own accord, pulling his hard torso against hers by his lapels. Then suddenly her conscious stung her hazy thoughts, and her fingers opened from a clutch to a push, making Spike stumble back several feet. She heaved in breaths as she stared at him, her lips rosy from his attentions, and her cheeks flushed for the same reason.

"No. No. No." she babbled, "Not fair. Can't do that. Just because you feel...sorry for me. Don't! Just don't! I'm fine. It was a temporary moment of insanity, right Spike? That’s why you...did...that. Right? Because, I'm the...mother of your child or something. But...never again. Temporary moment." she repeated, and then her eyes lit up with exclamation, "Oh! We have to go see if Nicholas is finished with his homework! Its time for movie night!"

And with that, she whirled around and marched back to the house.

When Buffy returned to the den with a heaping bowl of popcorn, she found the room a complete disaster area of pillows, blankets, and other soft objects, and Spike in the center holding a laughing Nicholas in a headlock. No matter how stressed she was by the kiss in the woods or Spike's general presence, nothing could keep the huge beaming smile that graced her lips at the scene before her.

"You guys are bad!" she scolded, though it was betrayed by her laugh that followed.

"He hasn't cried 'uncle' yet." Spike explained, tickling the boy. Nicholas laughed hysterically and kicked his legs, trying desperately to get away.

Buffy set the bowl down and walked across the room to stoop down and help Nicholas, who collapsed in her arms, gulping for breath.

"Thanks for savin' me, Mom!" he gasped. Buffy's one perfectly shaped eyebrow rose suspiciously.

"Oh you think I'm saving you, do you? Have you forgotten that little incident with the sprayer before dinner?" she whispered predatorily in his ear. Then suddenly her manicured nails were upon him, tickling into a giggling frenzy. Spike laughed at her attack and decided to give Nicholas a hand, so he brought a pillow from behind his back and swung it at Buffy. She stopped her assault and stared at Spike wide-eyed.

"It was a draw 9 years ago on that evening I moved into the apartment." he said innocently, while grabbing another pillow and holding it up threateningly, "Wanna see who wins?"

She let out an incredulous laugh, followed by a determined shout, and launched herself upon him.

"I'll win!" she cried, bringing down a rain of pillows upon his head.

"No, Momma and Dad, I'LL win!" Nicholas shouted back, and jumped right into the fray.

"Not a chance, Nick-Bit!" Spike yelled from under a mountain of cushions, just before he leapt out and attacked Buffy and Nicholas with the most unquenchable amount of happiness in his heart that he had ever felt.

The doors were locked. The lights were off. Nicholas was asleep in his bed, and Spike had gone to his own room.

The moonlight created beautiful patterns of blue light that beamed so quietly through the front windows of the house. Buffy basked in them, soaked up the tendrils of night and silver that harbored the mysterious, and allowed all thought to soar into surreal nothingness. She breathed in and out, concentrating on the feel of the air in her lungs, and the rise and fall of her chest under the satiny slip of nightgown that hung on her body.

Her reflection in the window didn't look like her. It looked like some kind of immortal goddess, with high, elegant cheekbones and wise eyebrows. But that wasn't her.

Buffy wasn't elegant, nor was she wise. Not when...

Heads, I win.
Tails, I'm lost.
Love equals pain.
I am drifting
without an anchor...

Life belonged to her. With its colors, events, and laughter. She had power, but not the confidence. Not when HE was concerned.

He. Him. Spike. William.

The image of his breathtaking eyes flashed through her mind. They were about as blue as the moonlight, but less so. Almost white with fire and emotion and meaning and passion. So pale that it caused even the harshest person to gasp. And they caused her to gasp. More than once.

Damn him, for still holding her entire being within those eyes.

I hate you.
I love you.
Leave.
Don't go away.

The future now stretched before her in the most untouchable way. Spike was here. For now. But who's to say he'd be here tomorrow?

Love. What a strange idea, strange feeling, strange intoxication. Love only brought a few people to mind: her mother, Willow, Giles....Nicholas.

Her son was the product of a cold Love, one that deserved NOTHING. Buffy didn't think that the pureness of Nicholas should be tainted by the mutant formation of Love she shared with Spike. Funny how she never thought of him as dirty for being an illegitimate child. And now. But now. Did he need his father....?

A scrape against the silence
a knife against a plate
makes the sound of
...need
...on
...hate

Buffy blinked her wide doe eyes and turned away from the world that stared unrealistically back at her from the window. Climbing the stairs with the saddened thoughts of insomnia, she focused on the door in front of her. The door to the guest room.

She approached it when her feet reached the second floor, the hardwood floor cooling her from the bottom up. Her hand stretched out for the doorknob, fingers looking like claws in the dim light.

The door opened before her fingers could touch the metal knob.

Spike stood before her, looking down at her with eyes so full of midnight fire it made her move back, until she stood on the top step, hoping that the distance would lessen the effect of his stare.

It didn't.

The shadows made his face look sharper than usual, their darkness warring with the alabaster of his noble nose, sharp jaw, and high forehead. His black curls and white tips almost looked blue in the strange light. His shirt was off, the Michelangelo perfection of his torso looking more unrealistic than ever as Buffy let her eyes drift over him. He was staring at her too, at her curves covered with the milky fabric that bent the moonlight as she shifted. His eyes traveled up the curve of her throat, along her delicate jaw, and the round shell of her ear. She bit her lip and clasped her hands in front of her, as if she were submitting to his gaze that almost caressed physically. Their eyes stopped their gentle lustful searching and met again.

No words were spoken. Connection between them bright with the effects of insomnia, those tortured emotions that communicate with the moon and Change Everything.

Spike watched Buffy turn away, and close the door of her room firmly behind her.

And he returned to his room as well.

The 10 AM sunlight soaked the dusty-tan tiles of the kitchen, warming Buffy's bare feet as she shuffled tiredly to the coffeemaker. It had clicked on at 9 o'clock, its Saturday morning setting. The steam from the vanilla roast caressed and awoke her senses with the beautiful Happy Morning feeling that only coffee can give. She went to pour a generous mug full, and then frowned when the liquid only filled half of the cup. Okay, she knew she made more than a half a cup! Then she glanced and saw two messy table settings on the counter, sloppy bowls of cereal that had apparently been gobbled down, and dishes left for her to clean up. Buffy sighed, and swallowed the several mouthfuls of coffee left, and put her son and...Spike's dishes in the dishwasher. She was about to head upstairs to change her clothes when voices on the veranda caught her attention.

Spike was sitting on the porch swing, in the dappled sunlight that pierced through the trellis and vine. He held a huge mug of coffee in between his knees while listening intently to Nicholas, who was showing him the Box of Pirate Treasure that he had obviously dragged from his tree house to show his father. Buffy leaned against the doors and watched the two of them talking, their matching black curls blowing gently in the breeze, and their faces holding the same sculpted expressions. Nicholas caught the white satin movement of Buffy in the windows of the french doors and looked up at her curiously. She winked at him before stepping back quietly to leave father and son to bond.

"Hello, Mother, guess who?" Buffy asked sweetly into the phone.

"Buffy! Didn't expect to hear from you so soon after my visit!" Joyce's voice filtered over the line that stretched across the country.

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to call and tell you that I am leaving for England with Giles this afternoon for a while. Nicholas said he was interested in going, and since there is nothing really going on around here, I thought we'd take off for a couple of months," Buffy described cheerfully, biting back a laugh when she heard her mom gasp.

"No! Buffy, why don't you stick around Philadelphia for a few more weeks!! Um, at least let Nicholas finish his baseball season! Oh and school! And um, didn't you have a big thing going on at the restaurant? It would be irresponsible to leave now, young lady!!!" Joyce panicked. Spike had to find her, and he wouldn't if she left!!

"Hmm...you sound awfully desperate for me to stay in Philly, Mom," Buffy mused, a smile playing across her face.

"Well, I know I raised you better than to just up and leave the country for a while," Joyce covered.

"Which is why you helped me up and leave California," Buffy said pointedly. Joyce's heavy sigh was her response. "And it’s okay. I'm not leaving. I just wanted to see if you'd fess up."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joyce said innocently.

"Hmm, so you'd know nothing about a certain British someone, who happens to be the father of my son, showing up at my restaurant?"

"Nope!" Joyce replied. Buffy frowned.

"Mo-oom..." she pried.

"Hey, I didn't tell him anything about your restaurant, I don't know how he found out about that!" Joyce quickly defended herself.

"Yeah, well, he's here."

"I'm glad."

"Me too, even though I don't want to admit it," Buffy said quietly.

"It was time," Joyce said wisely.

"Yeah..."

"How is Nicholas handling it?"

"The two are inseparable, " Buffy said, smiling into the phone as she turned to stare out the back doors at the two males who were now jumping like maniacs on the trampoline, "and getting along famously. Nicholas is excited, and Spike is in complete awe."

"That makes sense."

"Well, Mommy, I had better go. I gotta get these guys some lunch before we head out to Nicholas's little league game. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, bye Honey. Give Nicholas a hug and kiss from me."

"Will do."

"Oh, and Buffy?" Joyce said before she hung up, "Give that man a second chance. It may surprise you."

Buffy stared at the phone for a moment after her mother hung up, contemplating her last words.

Second chance. Does Spike even want me to give him a second chance?

She looked up to see the two of them chasing each other around the back yard with nerf balls.

Maybe.

Nicholas won his baseball game that afternoon, his small chest puffing up with pride as his father shouted encouragement and compliments from the stands. Buffy was always a wonderful soccer-mom, sitting on the bleachers and wearing all the paraphenilia ever made for little league teams, cheering until she was nearly hoarse. Spike out-did her this time though, even beat her down to the field to embrace his son in a rewarding hug.

"That was great, Nick-Bit!! You hit that ball outta th' park!" he gushed, swinging him around. Nicholas laughed and pulled off his baseball cap.

"I know, wasn't it great? Did ya see how far it flew? Didja? Momma, did you see it?" he asked in a squeal, as Spike plopped him back down again and Buffy jogged up.

"It was awesome, Nicholas! You're the best!!"

Of course, she was surrounded by 20 other sets of parents who were saying the exact same thing to their own sons, but it didn't really matter. Nicholas's face glowed in the setting sun, one arm slung around his father's narrow waist. Buffy beamed at him.

"Nicholas!" A boy shouted as he moved through the crowd, "Nicholas, are you ready to go?"

"Go where?" Spike asked curiously, looking back and forth between his son, Buffy, and the little brunette boy who had emerged next to them.

"My house, to sleep over, remember?" the boy answered, gazing pleadingly up at Buffy, "Ms. Summers, you promised! 'member, last week? My mom called you, an' you said he could come over."

"I r'membered, Billy!" Nicholas assured his friend, "My stuff's in the dugout. I can still go, right, Ma?"

Buffy looked back and forth between the two, her cheeks tinting red. Sure, she remembered now. And sure, she had said yes before. 'Before' being the key-word there, as in, BEFORE Spike came to town. Could she handle being alone with him for a whole night?

But Nicholas's eyes were full and hopeful. She had promised afterall.

"Yeah, sure. If you packed your stuff, you can go ahead and go. I expect a phone call tomorrow at 10 though, so I know picking-up details. Okay, Mister?" she teased, mussing his sweaty black spirals. Nicholas nodded gleefully, and bounced off into the crowd with Billy.

Spike sighed and watched him go, and then followed Buffy quietly to the SUV.

The hand on the clock had just slid past midnight when Buffy sat upright in her gigantic bed with surprise when she heard her bedroom door open. She gasped when Spike strode in, and collapsed onto his knees next to the bed, grabbing her hands, and tugging her towards him. His face was so close to hers, she could feel his breath on her skin. He stared into her soul, his eyes full and expressive in the dark.

"I'm not leaving. Ever again. He's my son, and you are his mother, and I want to be a part of your lives." he whispered fiercely. Her eyes were wide, her gaze dropping from his beseeching gaze to where he held her hands in a desperate grip.

"Spike...I..."

"No, Buffy, shut up. This has nothing to do with the 2 sips of wine I had two hours ago, either, so don't even say it. Listen to me. I want it all. I want you. Xander told me that you are my better half and evil twin all in one package. You're perfect. We're perfect. Give me another chance to prove myself to you, I swear, I can be there for you like you wanted me to be before, all those years ago," he gasped out, features twisting as if he were going to cry.

"You're not making any sense!" she nearly whimpered, tugging at her hands. He held them harder.

"You told me, Buffy-Love, that we could be Great. Remember?" he jerked at her, "I want Great."

Her entire world shattered at his words, and she didn't have the courage to even try to put it back together. Pulling harshly, she managed to remove her hands from his grasp, and rose to a kneeling position in the bed, looking down at him with eyes that had lost their faith in the last shred of strength she had left.

"Get out."

His eyes filled up with tears that shone in the moonlit room, "Buffy..."

"Get out of my room, Spike, now. Please." she begged him, bringing her hands up to her mouth to catch the sob that escaped her lips. "Please, just go!"

Tears rolled off of his sharp cheekbones as he stood and left the room, defeat and brokeness in his posture. Buffy watched him go, hating herself for loving him, and not loving him; wanting him, but telling him to go; needing him, but being too stubborn to admit it. She waited until he closed the door behind him, before she buried her face in her pillows and sobs wracked her body.

Her feet slapped against the hard wood floor as she ran down the dark hallway towards the guest room. She didn't even hesitate outside the door, since he only left her room 5 minutes ago, she knew he'd be awake and thoughtful.

Spike was pacing inside the room's nightime stillness and stopped abruptly with astonishment when a satin-clad Buffy came bursting in.

"I'm sorry, oh my g-god Spike, I'm so so sorry!!" she sobbed, tears making shimmering tracks down her cheeks. Her blonde curls were in disarray, blown back from her flight down the hallway, her fluttering hands reaching out towards him, "I shouldn't have...I m-mean...I want to give you a sec-second chance....p-please give ME a second chance! I hurt you, and took away your son, and...I sh-shouldn't have! But it all...and now...I want Great t-too, but it j-just...oh god, d-do you even know what I'm trying to say?"

Spike stared at her in disbelief for an instant, his eyes still full of tears. The desperate tones of her voice piercing his soul. He strode towards her and pulled her roughly against his chest. She clutched at his ribbed tank-top and cried into his shoulder as he held her tightly.

"Oh Buffy..." he gasped into her hair, "We both fucked up so bad, didn't we?"

She nodded against him. His fingers began to quietly caress her soft exposed skin, and she let them string out her energy with their gentleness. A sigh escaped her open lips, and the strength she used to make her decision after he left her room, run down the hall, and spill her guts out to him, was suddenly gone. He felt her go slack in his arms, and slowly they both sank to the floor.

"You should hate me," she whispered, cradled in his embrace like a child.

"I could never hate you. We were both fools. I ran away, then you ran away. No longer though, Buffy, do you understand me?" he whispered warningly. She pulled away slightly to look up at him, eyes clear and shining.

"Yes. No more. We.... we can work this out?" she meant for it to be a statement, but it came out as an uneasy question.

Spike couldn't tear his eyes away from hers, nodding to her timid question before speaking.

"Let me make love to you."

His whispered request was so fevered, so passionate, so full of love that Buffy lost all of her breath as she gazed into his blue windows to his desperate soul. She couldn't even nod.

But somehow Spike knew her answer was yes, and he lifted her body from the floor and carried her down the hallway to her master bedroom, and the great gorgeous expanse that was her 4-poster bed. Her body looked dark against the creamy silky of the sheets and he crawled up next to her, sliding his hand from her ankle, over the satin of her nightgown, up her belly and over her breast until it cupped her chin.

"Let me kiss you." he pleaded quietly. She blinked slowly in response, and he leaned down and pressed his full lips against hers. Her mouth opened almost instantly, desire building up in her chest, mind, and belly. Their tongues met gently at first, then more passionately, tangling and sucking at the wet heat of each other's mouths. He pulled away to catch his breath, only to groan from missing her, and diving back in. Buffy buried her fingers into his hair, caressing his scalp and savoring the feel of his weight on top of her.

His lips made a fiery trail down her neck, licking, nibbling, and sucking on the silky smooth skin as his hands began to run up and down her body. She clutched at the hem of his tank top, pulling it restlessly. He pulled away to whip it over his head, smiling at the starved look that haunted her eyes as she stared at the sharp shadows that made up his muscles.

"Let me undress you." he sighed, kneeling next to her and trailing one finger down the center of her torso.

"Please..." she whimpered, arching into the minimal touch of his fingertip. He slowly slid it to the edge of her slip of a nightgown, and ran it back up her thigh underneath the satin, the material catching on his wrist, and following its progress upward. He stared down at the revealed skin with awe, only a bit of her still covered by jade-green panties as he pulled the gown over her head.

"Let me taste you." he purred, full of desire, dropping his head to her left breast when she nodded in reply and rolling his tongue along its curve. She combed her fingers of her right hand through his curls again, to urge him on; her other hand reached above her head to grasp the intricate metal design of the headboard, causing her body to stretch enticingly beneath him.

Spike's mouth engulfed her nipple, enjoying the mewl of pure pleasure that emanated from Buffy's lips. His hand kneaded and massaged the other one, before he moved his head to that one and his hand gave its attention to the one shimmering with his mouth's dew. She began to rub her hips up against his hard cock, hoping desperately that he would soon relieve the blooming rose of passionate need that was unfurling there. Her feet came up to the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down the corded muscles of his legs.

Buffy smiled to herself when she realized he was commando, yet again. Some things never change. Oh but this did, they did. They were evolving and developing in such an elegantly deep way. She was running to catch up, even as Spike's clever fingers slid her panties down her legs, and began to caress the dripping wet slit of her womanhood. He was giving her all he had, spilling his emotions into each contact with her skin. It was indescribably exquisite.

"Spike...now...please, I need you," she gasped as his index finger surged inside of her, "This isn't enough. I need YOU."

Spike slowly removed his finger and looked at her flushed face, "I need a condom, Buffy, unless..."

"No condom. Please, no condom." she begged, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him on top of her. "I trust that you...don't have some...disease or something. Pleeeeaaaase, would you just...I want...I can't...."

"Hush, love, I got you..." he cooed, kissing her jaw, "But what about...another baby... Buffy... again. We need a condom."

She put her small hands on each of his hollowed cheeks and lifted his face from the crook of her neck, "You giving me another child would be beautiful, William." she whispered, gazing into his rain-washed blue eyes. "Let me feel you."

He gasped at hearing her repeat his earlier requests, nodded jerkily, throat closing up with emotion, "I...I need to feel you too."

Spike rose above her, settling his lower half in between her hot thighs, his hands planted on either side of her body to hold himself over her. With one surging and full thrust, he was sheathed within her body once again. Buffy arched back, reaching above her again to grab the ironwork as she moaned. He clenched his teeth and lowered his face to her shoulder as he continued to pump in and out of her sopping wet channel.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.... Was it this... good... last time?" Buffy choked, bringing her legs up and wrapping them around his waist.

"I don't...remember... But if it was, I can't see...how I'd forget..." he breathed into her ear, rotating his hips a bit each time he entered to give her more pleasure. Her muscles were already fluttering around his cock, and Spike was holding onto the smallest shred of his bearings, knowing that she hadn't climaxed yet. He felt her sweaty palms release the headboard and come to rest on his back, holding him, wrapping him up, surrounding him.

"I...ooohh.... Spike...." she mewled, writhing beneath him as she felt her orgasm begin.

"Buffy.... Let me do...this to you...for the rest...of your life," he whispered fervently into her ear in time with each thrust.

That did her in. She arched up and screamed with release, pressing her hands into his muscled back, her inner muscles wringing him violently. He was right behind her, nearly growling as his semen flooded her body. Wearily, he collapsed onto her tiny, sweat-slicked body.

"I love you so much, Spike," she whispered into his hair. She felt him smile against her breast.

"I love you, too."

"Really?" she gasped, pulling back so she could look into his face. He rose again, pulled himself from her body and rolled next to her.

"Yes, really," he reached out for her to bring her against him.

"Are you sure?" she asked warily.

"Buffy, of course. Why would I say it if I didn't mean it?" he said in a gentle voice, petting her hair and damp neck. She propped herself up to look down at him.

"But...how? Why? You have no reason to."

"Since when did Love need a reason?" he asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Since you told me that our friendship could never be more," Buffy's voice squeaked as he abruptly sat up and pinned her down to the bed.

"That was nine years ago, sweetheart. Don't doubt my love. I never doubted yours," he said sternly, clutching her wrists to the pillow above her head.

"You never had the chance to doubt mine," she said in breathless sadness, "I went away before you could see how much I cared. But you can't blame me for being a little wary when you tell me that you love me now, and didn't then. Is it all because of Nicholas?"

Spike sighed pushed himself off of her, sitting up in the bed. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to sit up with him. She gazed at him in expectation.

"Nicholas is a part of it, of course. I missed out on...so so much with him. I don't want to miss out on anythin' else. So, 'm stickin' around for him, yeah," Spike admitted honestly, "But this is also about you and me, pet. Par' of me doesn't want to trust you anymore after what you did- leavin' forever and taking away my son- but the bigger part of me.... it trusts in your love. An' loves you just as much."

"Only part of you?" she said in a hurt whisper, looking down at her hands. Spike curled his finger under her chin to bring her eyes up to his again.

"A part tha's getting larger every second," he offered lightly with a smile. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, savoring her taste.

"You still didn't answer my question," she chided, laying back down on the fluffy pillows and pulling his body with her.

"I love you because you're the same girl tha' was my whole world, bu' now you've got this whole other world that you can handle so elegantly. You're strong, both for yourself, and our son. You're still as hot as hell, too," he joked, loving the feel of her giggle against his skin. "I love that you are able to accept me again, even if I was such a git nine years ago. An' I love that we are gonna weave our lives back together again."

"You're really gonna stay?" she asked, holding her breath, waiting for his reply.

"'M not going anywhere, ever again. I told you that, Buffy. An' you aren't going anywhere either. When I said that I wanted to do this," he slid his hard length into her body, "to you for the rest of your life, I meant it."

Buffy smiled softly up at him as he began to make love to her again. And again. And again. For the rest of the spring night.
 

CONTINUED...