Pairing: Willow/Spike (as it should be)
Spoilers: Through season 7, Same Time, Same Place. AU thereafter.
Summary: Willow and Spike help each other. Willow's POV.
Notes: Fluff, the whole fluff, and nothing but the fluff. ** indicate emphasis.
Feedback: It’s ALL about the feedback (and naked Spike)! Don’t make me beg, it’s not pretty.
E-mail: spikedluv@midtel.net
Distribution: The Seduction of Spike, Soulmates, Willow’s Lil’ Secret, Shades of Gray, The BatPack Archives, Wacky Witch Willow, Rapture, and Shippers United. If anyone else wants it, please take it, just let me know.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, just borrowing them for awhile.
Everything belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Grr
Argh, the WB, UPN and whoever else they really belong to, although I wouldn’t
mind having a Spike of my own. Who would? ‘Love Me Back To Life’ was written
by Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora and performed by Bon Jovi, and I don’t
own it, or any of them, either. The story is mine, though.
Thanks: Amanda, beta and grasshopper extraordinaire.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Love Me Back To Life
Written by: Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora
Performed by: Bon Jovi
This world don't give you nothing it can't take
away
Everybody holding on to something
Nobody wants to fade away
No forgiveness on the streets of this town
I left my patience at a traffic light
There's no denying that I almost lost it
Threw in the towel, too tired to fight
Tonight I need you
More than yesterday
Tonight I need you
Take me, touch me, hold me like you mean it
Make me come alive
Hurt me, heal me, come and make me feel it
Rescue me tonight
Love me back to life
These days I'd trade sight for feeling
There are days my feeling's gone
Can't figure out whose life I'm living
I don't know right from wrong
When I lost my faith
You found it and gave it back to me
There's a new light on your halo; it took blind
eyes to see
That I need you
More than yesterday
Yeah, I need you
Take me, touch me, hold me like you mean it
Make me come alive
Hurt me, heal me, come and make me feel it
Rescue me tonight
Love me back to life
Take me, touch me, hold me like you mean it
Make me come alive
Hurt me, heal me, come and make me feel it
Rescue me
Take me, touch me, hold me like you mean it
Make me come alive
Hurt me, heal me, come and make me feel it
Rescue me tonight
Love me back to life
Love me back to life
Love me back to life
Love me back to life
****************
The day after Gnarl had peeled the skin off of her stomach, and Buffy had helped her to heal and regrow new skin, Willow met Buffy and Xander at the school for lunch. They sat outside under the trees, like they had when they were students. It had been wonderful, chatting and laughing like old times.
Willow had been so...upset...and scared...about coming back to Sunnydale. Afraid that her friends wouldn’t accept her, wouldn’t forgive her. How could they, when she couldn’t forgive herself? She’d killed a man, hurt her friends, almost ended the world. All because she had the power. Because she hurt, and she could.
Not being able to find Buffy and Xander when she arrived back in Sunnydale had been scary, but not as scary as being locked in the cave with Gnarl, having him paralyze her and peel the skin off of her stomach, strip by strip, and eat it, licking her blood away, listening to him tell her that her friends had been there, and left her behind. For him.
She’d been so frightened, and then they’d come back for her. They hadn’t left her alone. She’d never been so relieved to see Anya in all her life.
Lunch was over too quickly, because Buffy and Xander had to go back to work. Buffy gave Willow quick directions, and Willow wandered the halls, exploring the new school. When she was done, she found herself standing in front of the basement door. She wondered if Spike was still down there.
She ignored the ‘no student access’ sign on the door, not being a student, after all, and pushed it open, carefully peering down into the shadowed basement. With a deep breath and a nervous swallow, Willow started down the stairs. The lights were on, but they only offered dim illumination. She followed the hallways, looking and listening for Spike.
"What are you doing down here?" Spike asked from behind her. Willow jumped, her scream cutting off as she reflexively grabbed her throat.
"H-hello, Spike," she said, breathing heavily, her heart trying to hammer it’s way out of her chest. "Could you not do that?" she asked, trying to slow her breathing and heart rate.
"You’re not supposed to be here," Spike ignored her question.
"Well, uh, technically, neither are you," Willow examined Spike. His hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and had light brown roots beneath the bleached tips. He was wearing the same long-sleeved blue t-shirt, black jeans, and black boots he’d had on the day before when Willow had visited him in this basement.
"You’re hurt," he interrupted her musings. His voice was flat, as if he was just making an observation, rather than showing concern.
"Uh, well, yeah, yesterday. Gnarl. But I’m...hey, what are you doing?" she practically screeched as he reached out with one hand and lifted her shirt, baring her belly. "Uh, Spike!" she slapped at his hand, trying to push her shirt down, but he ignored her.
"New skin," he said.
"Uh, yeah, Gnarl, uh, ate...the, uh, old, so, I had to...heal...oh, goddess, what are you...?" Willow’s nervous explanation turned breathless.
"Soft and shiny," Spike said as he reached his fingers out and lightly touched her belly. "Shiny and new, like...," Spike dropped her shirt and stepped back. "I have to go," he turned and walked away. "I have work to do."
"Hey, wait!" Willow cried, running after him. "Spike, where did you...go?" she’d lost him in the shadows. "Darn it, Spike!" Willow stomped her foot.
***
She’d considered turning around and leaving, then resolutely moved forward. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only ten minutes, Willow turned another corner and saw Spike.
He was sitting on the floor, with his back against the wall, and his knees bent. His head was bowed, his hands covering his head, his fingers running through his hair, pulling on it. He didn’t notice her, so she stepped closer.
"Spike?" she called his name softly, and his head jerked up in surprise. His eyes were full of torment.
"You-you’re not supposed to be here," he said, trying to stand, but Willow placed her hand on his shoulder and kept him in place. She knelt before him and looked into his tortured face.
"Spike. What happened?" she asked as she wiped a tear off of his face. She couldn’t hide the concern in her eyes. "What’s wrong, Spike?" Anything that made Spike cry had to be scary.
"William," he began. "William’s been a bad, bad man," he was no longer looking at her, as if looking at her hurt. He stared off into the distance, his eyes narrowed; as if he could hide his feelings by not letting her see them. "Should’ve known better," he muttered. "Never think. Stupid!" he slapped the heel of his hand into his head.
"Spike," Willow tried to draw his attention back to her, even as she wondered if that was really a good idea.
"You shouldn’t be here," he repeated again, without looking at her.
"But I am. Here. With you," Willow said. She placed her hands on her knees as she knelt in front of him. She felt awkward. What was she doing here? She didn’t even like Spike...much. Although, she remembered the times he’d helped them when Buffy was dead.
The times he’d come over to the house to check up on Dawn, or just to chat. The times he went on patrol with them. But then she’d brought Buffy back. And everything had changed.
"It’s not safe," he muttered.
"Why are you here?" Willow asked. "Uh, in the basement, I mean, not in Sunnydale."
"Nowhere else to go," he replied after a long moment when Willow wondered if he’d even heard her. "Did it hurt?" he suddenly turned and looked right at her, and Willow started.
"Uh, did what hurt?" she asked.
"The shiny, new...," he reached his hand out, indicating her stomach.
"Oh, no," she shook her head. "I mean, the peeling and the licking, that hurt, but the healing, that was just...tiring," she explained.
"So...it did hurt," Spike mused, almost to himself. "Getting the new, you had to get rid of the old. No one told me it would hurt," he said, and then fell silent, pursing his lips in thought.
"No one told you what would hurt?" Willow asked after several minutes of silence.
"The spark," he whispered. "No one told me...Angel...should have told me...or did he try?" Spike tilted his head and screwed his face up, as if he was trying hard to think, to remember. "I’m so *confused*!" he yelled, smashing his fists into the wall behind him, and Willow jumped again, alarmed at his change in mood. "I can’t remember. And other times I remember too much. Can you remember?" he turned his attention back to Willow.
"Oh, yes. Yes," she closed her eyes, remembering...Warren, Giles, Anya, Buffy, Dawn, Xander...Tara, "I remember. It hurts to remember."
"Exactly," Spike said, his voice changing once again. Now he sounded like one of her professors, lecturing. "It hurts to remember. I tried to cut it out. So I wouldn’t have to remember. Didn’t work."
"You-you tried to cut *what* out?" Willow asked, suddenly very concerned. For Spike. And for herself; because she was alone down here with Spike.
"The spark," he said, pounding his fist against his chest. Willow wondered if he was slipping back into madness. "I tried to cut out the spark. I asked for it...but I didn’t *know*. Angel should have told me. Maybe would’ve, if I’d asked. Or, maybe he’s laughing now," Spike turned to her, his lips twisted in a bitter smile. "Is he laughing, do you think?"
"I-I don’t know," Willow said. "I don’t think so. Hard to picture, actually," she thought. "Angel laughing, not something I’ve ever seen before. Now, brooding, that I can picture."
"I’ve seen him laugh," Spike said. "Well, " he tilted his head and grinned at her, "Angelus. Not pretty," he shook his head. "You wouldn’t want to see Angelus laugh," his eyes glazed over again, as he lost himself in thought.
"No," Willow agreed, tilting her own head so she could study Spike’s face, "I wouldn’t want to see that." Spike didn’t reply.
"Spike, what was the spark you tried to cut out?" Willow tried again. He still didn’t reply, but moved one hand to absently rub it over his chest. Willow watched as his fingers clutched at his chest, digging in, although he looked like he didn’t know what he was doing.
She reached out and brushed his hand aside, and placed her own flat over his chest.
"No!" Spike cried out, but it was too late.
Willow’s body stiffened, and then jerked, as if an electric current had run through it. She felt the jolt, and tried to pull her hand away from Spike’s chest, but she couldn’t. She was staring into his eyes, and he was staring back at her. And she could see everything.
She saw the demon, and the cave. She saw Spike make his request. She saw the tests...the large demon with the flaming hands...the demons with the pointy ears...the beetles...and then Spike lying on the cave floor, swollen, and bruised, and burned.
She saw the demon touch Spike, and saw his mouth open in a silent scream...as the demon returned his soul. And then suddenly she saw it...the soul. The aura around Spike was charged. There were blues, and greens, and purples, swirling all around him.
Willow reached out with her other hand, and touched it. Her head flew back, and her eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling, as Willow saw, felt, what the soul saw and felt. Tears flowed from her eyes as she saw Spike kill his victims. His past was full of murder, maiming, and torture.
And love. For Angelus, his sire. For Drusilla, his lover. For Joyce, for Dawn...for Buffy. But the rest was pain.
Suddenly Willow was thrown back, and she landed in a sprawl, hitting her head on the cement floor with a loud ‘crack’.
***
"Willow? Red? Are you alright?" Spike leaned over her, although she
wasn’t sure which one was real, because she could see two of him. Or, maybe
they’re both real, she thought hysterically. Maybe she’d see two of him
from now on. The demon. And the soul.
"Willow? Answer me, luv," Spike said, and he suddenly sounded sane. And she wondered, what happened to insane Spike? Was he ever here? Was she dreaming? No, not a dream. She saw...she saw Spike’s soul!
Her eyes opened wide and she turned her head. She lifted her hand, though it felt too heavy to move, and reached out towards his chest.
"No," Spike grabbed her hand. "You shouldn’t do that," he explained softly. "You shouldn’t have done that."
"You," Willow began, and had to swallow because her mouth was so dry. "You have a...," she paused, almost afraid to say the word. She looked up into clear, blue eyes. "You have a soul."
"Yeah," he simply agreed.
"H-how...,"
"How’s your head?" he interrupted her, running his fingers down the back of her head.
"Fine...oh...ow!" Willow grabbed his hand. "Uh, a little sore."
"Right," he pressed his lips together and Willow had the impression that he was laughing at her. "Come on," he helped her sit up.
Willow looked at him suspiciously as she gently probed the back of her tender head. "You’re awfully sane, all of a sudden," she finally blurted out.
Spike froze and she wondered if he was mad, or if he was gonna leave. "It comes and goes," he said without looking at her.
"Oh," she didn’t know what else to say. She watched as he moved back to the position he was in when she arrived, except he didn’t lower his head. He rested his arms on his bent knees and stared at her. She shivered as she started to feel uncomfortable.
"What happened, just then?" he finally spoke.
"I, uh, I don’t know," Willow said. "I mean, I know what happened, but I don’t know *why* it happened." Spike continued to silently stare at her.
"I, um," Willow nervously said, "I saw your soul...all around you." She waved her hand for emphasis, and looked around him, seeing only the cement blocks behind him. "It was all...swirly; blues, and greens, and purples. Really pretty," she added, "if it matters."
Spike made a noise, somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "My soul is pretty?" he asked. "That’s a new one," he plucked at the seam of his jeans.
"I saw what you had to do to get the soul, too," Willow spoke softly. Spike’s hand froze. He reminded her of a rabbit she saw on the front lawn once, freezing when it caught sight of the neighbor’s dog. "Are you okay?" she asked.
He tilted his head just enough to look at her through his eyelashes. "I mean, all healed up nicely and everything?" she asked nervously.
"Yeah. All healed," he replied.
"Good," she didn’t say anything else, and the silence dragged on until she couldn’t take it anymore. "And I saw what happened when you lost your soul," she whispered. "When you were turned."
Willow chanced a glance up into Spike’s face to see him staring at her. She saw the madness start to return. "No!" she yelled, as she scrambled to her knees and reached for his shoulders, as if holding onto him would keep his mind anchored. "Please don’t leave!"
Spike jerked his head up and looked at her, eyes full of sanity. "Still here," he said, with a small smile.
"Why do you stay here?" she dropped her hands and looked around the basement. "This can’t be good for you...you know...in your condition. I mean, it’s the hellmouth, Spike!"
"Don’t really know," he looked around and saw what she must see. "Woke up one day and I was here. Got nowhere else to go."
"Nowhere?" Willow’s brow furrowed in concern. "What about your crypt?"
Spike’s eyes narrowed. "Slayer blew it up," he said shortly. "‘Sides, told Clem he could stay there."
"Have you seen Clem since you’ve been back?" Willow jumped on the change of subject.
"No." Willow waited, but he didn’t say anything more.
"Oh."
They sat there in silence, until Willow heard the rustle of cloth, and knew that Spike was standing up. She turned her head to look at him, and watched him rise gracefully to his feet. He held his hand down to her, and Willow just stared at it. He waggled his fingers impatiently, and Willow lifted her own hand.
Spike wrapped his fingers around hers, and pulled her to her feet. Willow’s legs had fallen asleep, and she stumbled. She reached out a hand to steady herself, and placed it against Spike’s chest. This time, Spike’s body jerked.
***
"Spike!" she cried out, trying to pull her hand off of his chest. "Spike!" Spike didn’t answer. His eyes rolled back in his head and his whole body shuddered, as if electric currents were being shot through him. Willow realized that he was going through the same thing she had gone through earlier. But what would he...
"No!" she screamed, desperately trying harder to pull her hand away from him. "No, Spike, please!" she pleaded when her hand wouldn’t budge. "Please don’t see what I did!"
And then it was over. Her hand fell away from Spike’s chest, and Spike toppled to the ground. "Spike!" Willow dropped to her knees on the hard cement. "Spike!" she gently tapped his face with one hand while she held one of his hands in her other.
His eyes fluttered, and then opened, and he stared up at her, unseeing.
"Spike?" she asked in concern, waving her hand slowly over his eyes. He didn’t react.
"What did you do?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Willow started crying. He’d seen the results her anger, her power, had wrought. He’d seen her kill a man. He’d seen her hurt her friends. He’d seen her try to end the world. He’d seen her shame, and she couldn’t stand the pain of it.
"I’m sorry...I’m so sorry," she cried, rocking. "I’m so sorry," she tried to disentangle their hands so she could flee, but Spike changed their grip, so he was holding onto her.
"I meant, to me," he clarified. "What did you do to me?"
"Oh," Willow’s voice wavered. "But...you saw...,"
"Yeah, I saw," he replied. "Never seen a man flayed alive like that, Red," he said, sounding almost proud. "Good work, that."
Willow was horrified. After everything she’d seen, the tests, the soul, how could he be so...blase?
"It wasn’t *good*!" she yelled. "It was...horrible! What I did was horrible!"
"But, over, yeah?" he interrupted her to ask.
"What?" she asked, confused at the change in topic.
"You’re not gonna do it again, right?"
"Of course, I’m not...,"
"And you’re learning how to control your power, right?"
"Yes, but I...,"
"Then why are you still carrying around such a load of baggage? Cor," he let go of her hand and slowly rolled to his knees, "you remind me of the broody git down in L.A. You can...*atone*, seek *redemption*...without feeling all *sorry* for yourself," he carefully pushed himself to his feet and stared down at Willow.
"Oh, yeah?" she placed her hands on her hips and stared up at him. "Then what’s with the crazy-man-in-the-basement act, huh, Mr. I’m-all-soul-having-now?"
"Not an act, luv," Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath, and held his hand back down to Willow. "Just don’t touch my chest again, right?"
Willow just stared at his hand. "How can you just...," she waved her hands around as tears filled her eyes. "How do you live with it?" she asked as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "How do you live with what you’ve done? I don’t know if I can!" she sobbed.
Spike watched her dispassionately for a moment, and then reached down and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and practically dragged her down the corridors to the small room he slept in. He lowered her to the pile of blankets, and then sat down beside her, their shoulders touching.
They sat that way for minutes, hours, until Willow’s sobs quieted, and her tears dried up. Spike picked a t-shirt up off of the floor and wiped the tears off of her face with it, and then let her blow her nose on it.
"Sorry," she whispered, mortified that she had broken down in front of him. Although, she had to admit, she did feel a little bit better now.
"Nothing to be sorry ‘bout," he replied. Willow closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. She was so tired now.
"Hey, you’re not falling asleep, are you?" Spike tilted his head and looked down at her face. Her skin was blotchy, her eyes rimmed in red. She opened green eyes and looked up at him.
"Yes," she replied, and closed her eyes again.
"No," he jerked his shoulder, bouncing her head. "Wake up, Red."
"Don’t wanna," she pouted sleepily.
"Come on, luv," Spike moved so that he was kneeling before her, his hands gripping her upper arms, lightly shaking her. "Wake up, and let’s get you home."
Willow opened her eyes and stared at his chest. "What do you think would happen?" she asked, lifting one hand, letting her fingers reach for his chest.
Spike grabbed her hand. "What do you think you’re doing?" he asked.
"What do you think would happen?" she repeated.
"What do you want to happen?" he asked.
Willow shrugged. "I want someone to forgive me. I want to be able to forgive myself," she whispered.
"Me, too," Spike lowered his head and closed his eyes, and Willow reached out with her other hand and touched him.
***
Both of their bodies jerked this time, their heads flew back, and their eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Sparks danced around them, and through them, and when it was over, they both slumped to the floor.
"Spike," Willow gasped when she could speak again. "You alright?"
"Yeah," he didn’t move.
"Spike," Willow pulled herself along the floor and touched his face. He opened his lids and stared at her with amber eyes.
"Willow," he growled.
"Spike," she said again, her voice breathless.
"If you touch me again, you know what’s going to happen," he snarled.
"I know," she moaned, slipping her hand beneath his shirt and touching his stomach.
"Oh, bloody fuck!" he cried out, his body bucking at her touch. "Red!" he reached for her and pulled her on top of him. Willow stared down at him, and then lowered her head, pressing her lips against his as she shoved his t-shirt up, her fingers pausing to play with a nipple.
Spike held her to him, one hand on the back of her head as he kissed her, the other on her ass, as he rubbed himself against her. He devoured her mouth, tasting all of her, sucking on her tongue, her lips, gently biting her.
Willow let her free hand bury itself in his hair as she rolled and pinched his nipple with the other one. She pushed Spike’s t-shirt up and he loosened his grip on her so she could lift her head. He lifted his shoulders off of the floor and raised his arms, and helped Willow remove his shirt. She ran both hands over his chest.
There were no memories this time, but the electric charge ran through her, from the tips of her fingers, down to her center. She started to pant, and opened her mouth in a silent scream. She needed...she needed...something.
"Spike," she moaned. "Spike, please...,"
"Fuck, Willow," he groaned, shoving her hands off of his chest and ripping her shirt off of her. He pulled her forward so that she was straddling his chest, and lifted his head, licking and kissing the new skin on her belly. "We’re both shiny and new," he whispered.
"Spike," Willow groaned, burying both of her hands in his hair as she rode his chest. And then she was on her back as Spike tore at her bra.
"Off!" he clawed at her jeans.
"You, too," Willow reached for her waistband as Spike did the same. Seconds later they were both naked, Willow sitting on the blankets, and Spike kneeling before her. Willow stared at Spike and blushed, partly embarrassed because she’d never been naked before him, and partly aroused as she ran her eyes over his chest and abs, where his hard cock bobbed against his belly. She reached out to touch it.
Spike grabbed her hand. "Nothing electric, right?" he asked.
Willow grinned. "I don’t know," she whispered. "I was kinda hoping for electric," and then she grabbed him with her other hand, wrapping her fingers around him, and pulling gently.
"Bloody...hell," Spike groaned, and then he reached out and slipped his fingers into the curls between her legs.
"Spike," Willow threw her head back in anticipation, then moaned as his fingers slid over her labia, then between them, light, teasing touches that made her ache. "Spike, please," she pleaded, and he slipped a finger inside her. "Oh, goddess, yes," she spread her legs and leaned back onto the pile of blankets, pulling Spike with her.
Spike knelt beside her, pressing her hand to the floor and twining his fingers with hers as he slipped a second finger inside her. Willow moaned, and lifted her hips against his hand as she stroked her hand up and down his rigid shaft. She swiped her thumb over the tip, wetting it in the precum oozing out of his slit.
She let go of him and stuck her thumb in her mouth, tasting him.
"Red," Spike growled, and pulled his fingers out of her. He placed them at her lips, and she stuck her tongue out, tasting herself. Spike stuck both of his fingers, wet with her juices, in his mouth and sucked them clean.
He climbed between her legs and positioned his head at her entrance. With a glance at her flushed face, parted lips, slitted eyes, he slowly slid his head into her. With small movements of his hips, he thrust in and out of her, letting her adjust to him.
He lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth, the fingers of one hand dancing over her swollen clit, the others still entwined with hers. Willow buried her hand in his hair, pressing his head to her breast. She writhed beneath him as he teased her with his mouth, his fingers, his cock.
"Spike, Spike, please," she moaned as she moved her hips to meet each thrust. "Please, Spike!"
Spike lifted his head and covered her lips with his. Without a word he pulled out one last time, and then drove into her, sheathing himself in her heat. Willow screamed into his mouth as he filled her, her fingers tightening around his.
"Spike!" she cried out. "Oh, goddess, Spike, yes, please," she babbled as she clutched at his back and wrapped her legs around his waist.
"Willow!" he groaned her name as he pumped in and out of her. "Bloody hell, Red. You feel so good. So hot. So bleedin’ tight."
"Spike, you...yes, oh, god, Spiiike!" Willow screamed. Her muscles tensed and her body shuddered as her orgasm ripped through her.
"Willow!" Spike roared as her muscles clamped around his cock. His body tightened and his cock jerked inside her, shooting his release into her. When he was empty, he moved to pull away from her.
"No," she refused tiredly, her legs tightening around him, her hand pulling on his shoulder.
"I’m too heavy," he protested, even as he let her pull him down.
"Don’t move," she breathed, wrapping her one arm around his shoulders. Spike buried his face in her neck. Willow felt him sniff, and then lick her. She giggled sleepily. "That tickles!" She closed her eyes and fell asleep.
***
When she woke up, Spike was lying on his back and she was curled up around him. His arm was thrown over her shoulders, pressing her against him. Her head was resting on his chest, and she had one arm thrown over his stomach.
"Spike," she whispered.
"Yeah," he responded immediately. Willow didn’t speak for a moment, as she just enjoyed lying here with him. "Are you sor...," he began.
"That was wonderful," she interrupted him.
"Oh, right," he said. "‘Course it was."
"Well?"
"Well what?" he asked.
"What about for you?" she sat up and stared down at him in disbelief.
"Oh! Well, of course it was...,"
"You hated it," her bottom lip stuck out and started to quiver.
"No, Red, Willow, I didn’t!" he pulled her back down and stroked the back of her head. "Bloody hell, Red! That was...that was amazing."
"Really?" she asked, her voice quavering.
"Really," he ran his fingers through her hair, pressing her head to his chest as he ran the fingers of his other hand down her arm. "Absolutely...bloody...fantastic."
"For me, too," she couldn’t help smiling against his chest. She reached up and ran her hand over it. There were no memories, no electric charges, no sparks. It seemed like an ordinary chest now. But that was wrong.
Because this chest had given her exactly what she needed. Maybe it wasn’t forgiveness, because that had to be earned. But it was...acceptance. He accepted her just the way she was. And she accepted him.
No words had been expressed, but she knew. She knew that she was his now. And he was hers. They needed each other. She’d never felt more alive than she did right now. Like a big weight had been lifted off of her chest, and she could breathe again.
"Spike?"
"Yes, luv?"
She couldn’t find the words to say what she was feeling. She lifted her head and looked up at him, then scooched up his body so she could kiss him. Softly, gently, she pressed her lips against his, and buried her face in his neck.
Spike just tightened his arms around her and held her, and then placed a kiss on the top of her head.
"Spike?"
"Yes, luv?"
"You really need to move out of the basement. Find someplace that doesn’t come with its own hellmouth. And maybe a bed," she added.
End