Just Like Heaven

“What’s wrong Spike?”

Spike started and turned towards the source of the sweet voice. He was in his crypt, on his bed. He was sitting up, his back against the headboard. He looked around before his eyes landed on the face of the slayer, his slayer, her forest green eyes wide with worry.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” he said quietly casting his gaze down at his hands.

“You move, I move. It’s all a bit of movey goodness,” Buffy said her eyes searching his face. She was still draped over him. Her legs entwined with his, her hand lazily running circles on his stomach. Her hair was wild and mussed and she had a slight pink glow about her.

Spike smiled weakly and continued to stare at his hands.

“Isn’t this the part where you get up and run off vowing to never let the evil, soulless, bleached wonder touch you again?” he asked, his voice low.

“Well yeah usually. How about I just stay for a bit?” she asked hesitantly.

She wasn’t used to him acting so...so used.

They had been intimate for lack of a better word for some time now. And as always she had run off as soon as he was spent. And yes she did vow she would never let him touch her again. But day after day, night after night she had to touch him, had to seek him out, had to let him touch her.

“Bloody unlikely,” Spike said moving her legs and getting up.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Out for a walk. I need to breathe…” Buffy raised her eyebrows at him. “I need some air…I need to just be away from you,” he stammered as he put on his pants.

“Spike….”

“No. Just stay. I need to think. Leave me be,” He said as he went up the ladder.

Buffy was puzzled and was about to go after him when she heard the crypt door slam shut.

“Holy shit! What was that all about?” Buffy asked herself aloud as she grabbed for her clothes. She found her pants and slipped them on all the while muttering to Spike under her breath.

“Where is my shirt?” Buffy bent down to look under the bed.

She found her shirt covering a black book. Curious, she pulled the book and the shirt out from under the bed. She put her shirt next to her and looked over the black book. It was a large leather bound book, looked like a journal only larger. In the center of the spine was a pastel green ribbon. Buffy recognized it as one she had worn in her hair.

She fingered its silken material and debated whether or not she should open the book.

“Curiosity killed the cat, but not the slayer,” she said as she shrugged.

Carefully she opened its heavy leather cover and gasped. It was filled with drawings, beautifully sculpted and meticulously drawn pictures. The first one was one of the tree he liked to stalk outside her house with her house in the background, her room the only one slightly lit up and the moon bright and round behind it.

The second one was picture of her sister Dawn. She was smiling at something in the distance, her face lit up with laughter. Spike nailed that sparkle she got in her eye when she laughed and Buffy found herself smiling at her sister’s obvious amusement.

She turned the page and came to a picture of Willow and Tara. They were sitting close together, holding hands and smiling. They seemed oblivious of the people around them, set inside their own private world.

She smiled and turned to the next page and gasped. It was a portrait of her. She was sleeping, her golden hair in a halo around her. Her face relaxed and innocent. She had one hand up by her face, her palm out.

Buffy couldn’t believe the great detail Spike had drawn her face. Her small dimple in her left cheek, the way her lashes lay dark against her peachy skin. She knew then exactly how he felt about her. The love he had in his non-beating heart. It was then that Buffy realized she felt the same way. She loved him too. Buffy didn’t realize she had tears in her eyes until one landed on the drawing, smudging the pencil.

“Find something you like?”

Buffy jerked towards the sound of Spike’s voice, cursing herself for not hearing, let alone feel him enter his crypt, allowing him to sneak up on her.

“What? Me?” she said wiping tears from her face, totally forgetting about the open drawing book in her lap.

Spike glanced down at her lap and raised his eyebrow, his mouth turning into a slight smile.

Buffy looked down and mentally slapped herself.

“What...Oh...I was looking for my shirt,” she defended herself. “Did you get your air?”

“Yeah.” Spike frowned.

“Good,” Buffy said as she got up. She placed the book on the bed and pulled her tight pink shirt over her head.

“Where are you going?” Spike asked stepping in front of her.

“I thought I’d toddle off just like you said,” she said defiantly with a flip of her hair.

“Can you just stay for a bit? We need to talk.”

Buffy looked at Spike, surprise written heavily in her face.

“Um…ok.” Buffy stepped backwards and sat on his bed. Spike came next to her and sat on the rumpled black satin sheets.

“Slay…Buffy I’ve been thinking.”

“Ack never good. Remember what happened last time you thought?” she joked.

Spike gave her a pointed look.

“Sheesh tough crowd.”

“Are you going to me talk? Or make bloody fun of me all night?” Spike asked exasperated.

Buffy quieted down and nodded noting how serious he was.

“Ok…listen. I’ve been thinking and I just can’t do this anymore.” Spike turned towards her his eyes looking into her face. “It’s killing you and it’s bloody well killing me. I know it’s been hard for you since you came back. Bollocks I didn’t think would be so hard.” Spike sighed and got up.

“What exactly are you saying?” she asked him as he started to pace in front of her.

“Bloody hell woman aren’t you listening? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be your excuse for wanting to feel anymore. Don’t you understand?”

Buffy looked at him, her face blank. She was in shock, not sure how to react. Spike stopped pacing and kneeled in front of her.

“Buffy I love you. I’ve always loved you,” he said tenderly, his hand on her cheek. Buffy’s eyes filled with tears. She unconsciously leaned her cheek into his palm, her eyes closing, silent tears wetting her face.

“I know you do Spike.”

“Do you even like me at all? Or is this just sex?” He asked her, afraid to hear her answer.

“Silly vampire,” she said as she opened her eyes.

“Don’t you know that I’m in love with you?” She whispered, her warm hand cupping his cold cheek.

Spike closed his eyes as Buffy’s fingertips began to trace his cheekbones.

“Could you say that again?” he asked disbelievingly.

“I’m in love with you Spike,” she voiced strong and unwavering.

“God Buffy. I love you soo much,” he said as he reached for her. His lips met hers softly. He kissed her tentatively, his mouth moving languidly against hers.

Buffy wound her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his middle, kissing him with all the words she could not voice. She had admitted her love and it was like the walls housing her feelings had crumbled.

“Thank you Spike.”

“For what love?”

“For making me feel again.”

Spike nodded slightly and returned his mouth to its rightful place. He kissed her hungrily, his hands running up and down her back. Buffy clung to him and kissed him back with vigor.

“Don’t ever leave this room like that again,” she scolded as she ripped the shirt off his chest.

“Never. I promise,” he replied huskily ripping her shirt as well.

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