Also... Also it was because he didn't push her. He asked small questions,

nothing too big, nothing too painful. He touched her only when necessary,

instead of like the others, who seemed to do it all of the time to reassure

themselves that she was there. He waited, with more patience than she would

have imagined possible. Waited for her to speak, or even just to be ready to

speak. The waiting didn't bother him-- he was going to live forever, so what

was a few more minutes or hours?

As soon as she saw him for the first time on that night she came back, she

knew he would be there for her, that he was the one she could go to.

The others loved her, of course. And she could go to them as well. But it

wasn't like with him. They were always searching, always trying so hard, and

he didn't. He just...

Waited.

For her.

So one morning after patrol, just as the sun was turning the sky pink instead

of black, she went to him.

Buffy let herself into his crypt and looked around quietly, noting the

changes in furniture, the things she had been too dazed to notice the first

time she went to him after she came back. After a moment, she walked across

the room and lowered herself underground, her feet making a distant 'clink'

sound when they touched the rusty rungs of the ladder.

When she reached the bottom and turned around, Spike stood there. He had a

crowbar in his hand and was naked; he'd obviously been on the verge of sleep,

if not deeply unconscious already. Buffy's cheeks grew warm as she stared at

him.

He rubbed at his eyes sleepily and then sighed, dropping the crowbar. "What

happened?"

"Nothing," she said absently.

"Then why are you here?" he asked, his brow wrinkling when he realized how

that sounded. "You usually don't come to me unless you all need help with

something," he amended.

"I just sort of... wanted to see you," Buffy murmured, drawing her eyes up

to look at his face.

A slow grin curved his mouth. "But not so much of me, I suppose," he

chuckled. "Hold on. I'll put something on." He turned.

"No, don't," she called after him and bit her lip with he stopped.

Spike felt himself freeze, felt his muscles tense, and the turn back around

to face her seemed torturously slow. Her cheeks were crimson and her eyes

were bright with tears. "Don't?" he finally heard himself ask, but the word

seemed hollow and drawn out.

Buffy sucked in a deep breath. "I came here... I came here to be with you.

I want to be with you, Spike."

It hurt, somewhere inside his chest. As gently as he could, he said, "You

don't know what you're saying, luv. I'm going to go put some clothes on.

You wait here, all right?"

She squared her shoulders. "I know perfectly well what I'm saying, and I'm

not five years old so don't talk to me like I'm a child." Then she deflated

and gazed at him. "I know you want this. You've told me you love me and...

And I believe you. I want this too."

His voice shook slightly as she calmly started unbuttoning her blouse. "I

don't treat you like a child, I never have, that's not what I'm about. I

don't coddle humans." He felt a sudden burst of anger. "And I'm not a

bloody Angel substitute, so you'd better stop what you're doing and go, or

I'm going to do something that pussy never would, and take you. Even if

you're vulnerable. I don't have his patience and I don't have his soul, so

Buffy... You should stop." His last three words came out pleading, and

Buffy smiled quirkily under his stare.

"I know you're not Angel. And I know you don't have a soul. Believe me,"

she added under her breath, "I know that part." She slipped her blouse off

her shoulders and let it fall to the floor and then stepped out of her shoes.

Spike watched her as she walked closer, covered in nothing but a skirt and

what seemed like barely more than a two scraps of lace over her breasts. She

stopped less than a foot away from him and he could feel the warmth radiating

off of her, feel her breath against his chest. He felt his groin tingle, an

erection beginning to build and he gritted his teeth, willing himself not to

think about it.

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Does it matter why?" she countered.

He looked into her eyes, searched inside of himself, and finally nodded.

"Yes, Buffy. It does."

She nodded back. "I'm glad you said that." Her fingers traced up his arms

to his shoulders and locked around his neck, lightly scraping the back of his

scalp with her nails. "I'm doing this for a lot of reasons. But the main

one is that I don't want to think anymore. I've spent every waking second

since I got back thinking about that place, and I don't want to anymore. I

want to get lost in a place other than that one. I want to be myself again."

"Why me?" he asked, his voice rough as she pressed herself closer to him.

His arms automatically wound around her back until he was hugging her

loosely. He smiled ruefully when he realized that his erection was there to

stay; no more being able to ignore it, especially not when she was as close

as she was.

"I have my own reasons for that," she murmured. "Maybe I'll tell you them

later. After."

"Buffy," he said quietly, "Please don't do this if you're not sure. I'm not

objective enough to be able to see if I would be taking advantage and as I

was certain this was never going to happen, if it is, I don't want this to be

something you regret. I... I love you. God, I love you. So much that even

I have trouble believing it. I don't want to make anything harder for you.

I don't want to hurt you."

"Thank you for that," she whispered. "Now kiss me."

His eyes searched hers for another minute and then he dipped his head,

catching her mouth with his. She caught her breath and parted her lips,

probing his mouth gently with her tongue. Spike groaned and caught her

closer to him, lifting her half off the ground. Obediently she wrapped her

legs around his waist as the kiss grew hotter, wetter.

He carried her over to the bed and she dropped, pulling him after her, her

mouth suckling his, her fingernails against his back. Spike opened his eyes

slightly and smiled against her as he took in the eyelashes fluttering

against her cheek, the warm pink of her skin. Somehow the rest of her

clothing seemed to dissolve and he stared down at her nude form, tight and

soft, and he drew in a breath he didn't need.

He started down her body, his hands and mouth everywhere and Buffy caught his

arm. "No."

He looked up, panicked, but surprised to find that he was willing to stop, if

she wanted him to. "No?"

She saw the look on his face and laughed. "Yes. Just later. The rest can

come at another time, Spike."

At his obvious relief, she laughed again and then stilled as he smiled and

poised over her. His own mind finally clasped onto how casually she had fit

that in, that there would be another time for the rest, and he turned that

over for a moment in his head before kissing her swollen mouth again.

His hand traveled down between her legs and she opened them readily as he

stroked her. She trembled against him and he slipped two fingers inside the

slick center of her, easily finding the spot that made her writhe underneath

him. She cried out his name urgently. "Spike!"

He smiled again but his smile was weak, like he was weak, throbbing

everywhere, unsure of what sort of pleasure he was in that it would hurt so

much. The thick head of his cock pressed against her. "I'll make you

forget," he promised in a whisper.

"I know," she whispered back, staring at him, "That's one of the reasons I

came to you."

No more words spoken, he slid all the way into her and she gasped at the

welcome invasion. His mouth opened silently as she surrounded him, velvety

and wet and hotter than he remembered human women being. He paused to give

her a moment to adjust and then felt her hands tug at his hips, pulling him

closer.

Spike nodded and thrust, hearing her voice urge him on, back and forth, the

rhythm carrying them both away. His fingers slipped down again and he rubbed

the button hidden beneath her dark curls, making her buck with pleasure. His

own eyes felt wet with tears as he watched her move under him, felt her

muscles contract around him, heard her voice cry out with ecstasy.

Buffy felt faraway and safe as she felt Spike move in and out of her at the

perfect pace. His eyes were nearly black as she looked up into them and she

gripped onto his arms tightly, throwing her head from side to side, clawing

and moaning and weeping with pleasure.

"Buffy," he said and his voice sounded grainy.

She drew a hand up to his head and slipped her fingers through his hair,

savagely dragging his mouth down to hers, crying out against him as she came.

Spike kissed her roughly and thrust wildly one more time, emptying himself

inside of her.

He collapsed on top of her, her body pressed to the mattress, his to hers,

not a breath of air between them. The kiss continued, and gentled and

absently he realized that he was sucking on a bloodied lip.

He yanked away, trying to regain enough composure to make his face revert to

human again. But Buffy merely touched his face and yawned, stretching

languidly beneath him. He moved to the side, letting her get more

comfortable.

"I... I didn't mean to bite you," he finally muttered, hating himself even as

her blood sang through his veins.

"You didn't," she corrected with another yawn. "One of your fangs just

grazed my bottom lip. It was nothing."

"It shouldn't have happened."

"Spike." She looked at him steadily. "It was nothing. It didn't hurt.

Nothing hurt." She smiled. "You took me away."

Finally he relaxed a little. "I try to keep my promises."

"Thanks," she said lightly and then shivered.

Spike lifted her to get the blanket underneath them and spread it over her

thoughtlessly, not noticing the sparkle in her gaze when he did. "Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Now? Will you tell me now why it was me?" he ventured.

"Yes. Now I'll tell you. Come underneath," she instructed and waited until

he scooted under the covers with her. He propped his head up with his hand

and gazed down at her, at her rumpled golden hair and the blush on her body

that was beginning to fade.

"You were with me," she started. "Before."

His lips parted with disbelief. "I was..."

"With me," she said again. "Like I said, nothing had form, but I was there.

It was me. And there were people. My mother, I recognized instantly, picked

her out of all of the shimmery people-souls, whatever. But you found me.

It's weird to think, but your soul is... I mean, it's..."

"In Heaven?" he blurted and it seemed so laughable that he grinned.

"Yes." Buffy grinned back at him. "It's a little weird now, to think of it,

but then it just seemed like that's the way things are. There weren't any

questions up there. I knew how you came to be and how your soul fled and I

knew all of the circumstances surrounding your life. I just *knew*

everything up there. It seems a little fuzzy now at times and at other

times, so clear it's almost as if I'm there. Almost," she added wistfully.

"Hey." Spike brushed her cheek lightly with the back of his hand. "Are

you..."

"I'm fine," she said instantly, honestly. "I'm in fuzzy-mode, and a few

minutes ago I was in oblivion-mode, so I'm really fine."

He laughed and nodded for her to continue.

"Anyway, you sort of followed me around. Or maybe I followed you. Or maybe

we followed each other. I think that we just recognized something in each

other, even though your soul had been up there long before I was even born.

There was some sort of connection between us," she said simply. "There still

is. There always will be. And even though I know that you, as in *you*,

don't have your soul... I feel that connection. To it, through you. Or to

you through it."

"Besides which," she murmured, "You were good to me when I got back. You

kept it even and simple and stuff I could handle. I appreciated it. I

appreciated you."

"But you don't love me," he said flatly, prepared for the hurt that was about

to come.

And then she surprised him. "I do love you. It's not... There are things to

work out, jealousies and pasts and I love... someone... who I'm never going

to stop loving. And it's not quite undying between us, at least not for me,

not yet. But the way I appreciate you is love in itself. And there's more.

And there could be-- probably *will* be-- even more than that in the future.

I can't say I'm in love with you and mean it, not yet, but... Someday. I'm

leaving room for it to happen." She looked at him with a hooded gaze. "Is

that okay?"

"It's more than I thought would ever happen, pet," he murmured, kissing her

again. "Damn right it's okay."

Her eyes grew clear and he recognized relief in them, and happiness. She

snuggled into the crook of his arm, resting her hand against his chest, and

rubbed slow circles there. "Is it... I'm a little tired. Should I go home?"

"My home is your home. Sleep here," he whispered.

"Okay," she agreed drowsily. "You don't need to convince me."

"Don't leave without waking me," he asked as his own eyes fluttered closed.

Buffy smiled. "Promise. And, Spike?"

"Yes, luv?"

"I keep my promises too."

The End

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