TITLE: Phoenix Rising

AUTHOR: Ariane
RATING: R
SPOILERS: Season Six, Post "As You Were"

CREDITS: characters belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy, poem © J.L. Stanley

SUMMARY: Spike and Buffy face their uncertain future

FEEDBACK: ariane_five@yahoo.com

*****

After she left, he sat down on the floor of his crypt and stared blindly at the door. A small part of him, a very small part of him believed that she’d run back in, in a few moments, and she’d throw herself into his arms as she’d done so many times in the past.

She’d finally beg forgiveness for always assuming the worst about him. What had devastated him the most was her statement that she’d really shouldn’t have expected much better out of him-him being such an evil, undead thing - her unspoken implication flinging a seemingly impassible barrier between them.

Yet he knew with every cell of his being that she loved him. She’d confirmed it with her words “I can’t love you - she didn’t say ‘I don’t love you’, she just couldn’t say those words. It was a very big difference in his mind; but a brutally heartbreaking difference. It was her lack of courage that was so damn disappointing.

Did she really think that he was that much of fool that he’d knowingly store such dangerous contraband in his beloved crypt? He started to think it just might have been a setup and that perhaps Captain Cardboard was behind the whole scheme. Very strange timing, Riley showing up now and the complete revenge he’d extracted.

The money he’d been promised had been almost too good to be true. He’d made so many plans for what he could do with that money to make her life a little easier.

He couldn’t believe that it was only a few hours ago that she stood before him begging, demanding to know if he loved her, if he wanted her. She’d looked so sad and forlorn standing before him. He’d poured every ounce of meaning he could into his reply. Desperate, desperate love for her. Patient, enduring love for her. Faithful, fierce love for her. He’d made love to her, trying to convey with every touch, every caress how much he needed her, wanted her, loved her.

He’d taken so many beatings for her, cried over her broken, dead body, never swayed in the promise he’d made to her before she died, to care and protect her sister. But she always seemed to change the rules about just what it would take for her to finally let him completely into her life.

He stood up and walked over to the doorway and spoke into the empty night, “I guess it just doesn’t matter what I do, you’ll never ever accept me. That is until you admit who and what you are. Slim chance that happening now. But I know you Slayer, know who you are, know your depths and sorrows, more than you do yourself. You need to blossom from deep, dark earth, your heart is too strong, like mine, to bloom in shallow soil. You’ve been to the brink of reality, tumbled into the abyss, dragged yourself up, as I have. Just want you to ask yourself this - How is it that I am the only one that can make you feel alive even though I’m the evil undead?”

He dusted the ash off his jeans and looked around at the devastation that surrounded him.

“Just two things I need to take from this sorry train wreck.”

He picked up his duster off the floor. He found his special metal box smashed into a crevasse in the wall. Kneeling, he poured out the partially burned contents on the floor and picked up the slightly singed photograph of Buffy sitting on her back porch--one of the photos he’d stolen from her basement. He glanced at it and then quickly placed it into the inside pocket of his duster. He stood and nudged the remains of the metal box with his boot.

The rage built inside him and he angrily kicked the box sending it spinning across the floor.

“Bloody hell!” he screamed into the emptiness of his Buffyless world.

“I’m outta here!” He left his crypt without a backward glance.

He wound his way through the headstones and crypts; the night was utterly dark, moonless and silent. He paused at the entrance to the cemetery and then suddenly started to laugh at the thought that was beginning to surface in his mind.

“Why not do the unexpected? Why not do something completely, utterly different?” he thought. “I’m not gonna run away this time. Stay, just stay, and just let the whole thing unfold.” He laughed again to himself, “Yeah baby, Zen Vampire here.”

And the odd thought hit him that perhaps she was headed for some serious trouble and that when she finally realized what real love was, it would be the Big Bad for her.

* * * * *

She snuck in through the back door, didn’t feel like talking with Dawn or Willow. Not yet. She went to her bedroom and quietly shut the door. The first thing she saw was her coat, the one covered with grass stains. She hadn’t been able to get the stain out. Now she was glad in a strange way. She picked the coat up and hugged it to her breast. It was full of his scent; his scent overwhelmed the bitter remnants of her Double Meat existence.

She lay down on her bed and pressed her face deep into the coat.

“William,” she whispered.

She remembered his cool hands running over her body, the strength and power of him as he entered her, filled her, completed her. The cool fire of his kisses and touch, knowing her, always knowing exactly what she needed, wanted; remembered how it felt to open to him, surrender to his need for her, to come sweetly or fiercely beneath him, wrapped in his strong arms.

Her whole being felt stripped and raw, she couldn’t believe that she’d never, ever see him again. But she had to be good, had to do it, couldn’t stand the agonizing pull between her need for him and the outward reality she so desperately wanted.

She had to be righteous, pure, be always in the light, she needed to do this for Dawn, for her friends. She thought she’d die if they really knew this other side of her. They’d expect her to be with someone like Riley someday-someone honorable, brave, someone of the light. She now began to feel the reality of her situation as the Slayer-she had no right to hope for a life-a normal man would never be able to be her partner, never love her. So she’d choose nothing.

Spike’s face rose before her… Spike’s face, beaten and battered by her own hands and she heard his voice again, “You always hurt the ones you love.” She’d just left him there, told him she’d never be his girl, told him to get over it when he told her he loved her. Yet later she’d found herself standing outside his crypt, waiting for him to let her into paradise, into the peace of his arms.

“He’s long gone by now,” she thought, “I’ll never see him again.”

She felt completely and totally dead and numb inside.

“I’m deader than he is.”

The tears felt silently down her face. She fell into a restless sleep.

* * * * *

The next few days she avoided the cemetery. She wasn’t ready to face the finality of her actions. But Friday night, Willow and Dawn had gone out to visit Tara and she found herself sitting alone in the house. She let the darkness fall without turning on the lights. She let the darkness engulf her, surround her. She surrendered herself to the dark black night, silent and deep and oddly comforting.

“Dark is beautiful too,” she wondered to herself, “Different, but beautiful.”

The silence was pierced by the notes of a solitary nightingale from the tree outside her window.

“What are you so happy about you silly bird?”

She went outside and glanced up to see a full moon rising in the east.

“Pale, pale moon, the color of his hair,” she thought. “Beautiful and cold in the darkness. Like him.”

She kept on walking into the night. Several hours later she found herself standing near his burnt out and darkened crypt. She crouched down next to a headstone and gazed at the door of his crypt.

“Gone.”

A few minutes later she saw the flicker of candlelight inside the crypt and heard the sounds of some kind of violent struggle just behind the door. She begin to move toward the door, but quickly knelt back down, hiding behind the tombstone as the crypt door swung open.

A shopping cart full of burnt rugs and trash was shoved roughly out the door. Someone came out and paused for moment on the doorstep. His pale hair shone in the moonlight. He sniffed the air looking quickly around and then stared straight in her direction, shook his head and then smiled. He turned away from her and began to push the cart through the cemetery towards the dump. He began to whistle softly as he pushed his heavy load.

As she watched Spike trundle away into the night, Buffy felt the strangest feeling rise inside her, a small bit of warmth, a tiny bit of hope, all mixed up together with an odd sense of falling into something and she smiled wistfully to herself when she realized he was whistling ‘Wind Beneath My Wings.’

* * * * *

* * * * *

Once he got started, he began to enjoy the pure physical challenge of cleaning the debris out of his crypt. It was as if every piece of trash and broken remnant that he hauled out the door was a farewell to a past life; he wondered at the feeling of relief that throwing it all away brought him.

He was surprised and not a little touched by the actions of some of those he thought despised him. Tara was the first to come bearing gifts, along with a little lecture.

“I don’t understand how you could’ve done that,” she said, referring to his disastrous attempt to get off the poverty train. She gave him a bit of a soulful look. “You know money isn’t everything Spike, sometimes I look around this world and think that all this grasping for wealth is just a fever and a curse the demon world has placed upon us.”

“Well luv, I was just trying to help and completely mucked it up. Still trying to figure out all these fine lines between good and evil, you know.”

He thanked her for the sleeping bag and box of Weetabix she’d brought and offered her a tour of the devastation.

“I still have a bit to clear out, but I’m almost done, then it’s time to build something new from the ashes.”

“You could’ve all been killed,” Tara said in a hushed voice as she surveyed the damage.

“Well you could say that several things died that night,” he said a little sadly, but then quickly changed into a somewhat more positive note. “No life without a little dying, eh?”

She gave his shoulder a little pat, asked if she could come back later and check out his progress, and then she left.

She came back several nights latter dragging Xander.

“What’s the boy doing here?” Spiked blocked the entrance to his crypt.

“I’ve been requisitioned,” Xander complained. “Holy nukes Spike, barbecue much?”

Spike felt a bit of a rise of anger and the thought flashed quickly through his mind that he’d surely like to take a bit out of the git’s neck. But he let it go. “Just let it all unfold,” he said to himself.

Tara left them alone together and Spike gave Xander the tour.

“So mate, do you see any hope here, any ideas on turning this bit of hell into a Martha Stewart Special?”

Xander snorted, “Frankly Spike it’d be a relief to have any excuse to escape from Wedding Planning Hell. Let’s see…”

Spike and Xander spent the next hour or so happily planning renovations. They decided to take a break and opened one of the cans of beer that Xander had brought with him. They sat comfortably on the grass outside Spike’s crypt. Xander gave him all the gory details about Anya’s demon relations. Spike gave him a few tips on the finer points of diplomacy Xander might use on some of her more unpleasant friends.

“Keep plenty of chips and onion dip around,” he laughed. “Calms ‘em right down.”

Xander looked at his watch.

“Oh man, I’ll be in it deep when I get home. Hey Spike, thanks for the distraction. See you tomorrow.”

He stood up and stuck out his hand. Spike stared at it for a few seconds and then reached out and accepted the handshake.

“Stranger and stranger,” he thought to himself as he snuggled down into his new sleeping bag, munching Weetabix and sipping the last beer. “What’s next?”

* * * * *

Buffy sat on the couch in the living room chatting with Willow. She was going over for the thousand time what it felt like to see Riley with his new wife, to see how much they loved each other, and how stupid she’d been to throw that all away.

Willow listened with growing impatience, and then interrupted.

“Don’t you think it was a little bit malicious of Riley showing up all lovey, dovey with Sam, rubbing it in your face. If you tell me one more time what an honorable man he is I’m gonna throw up! Remember his nasty little ‘let the bad vampire girls suck me’ habit? Give me a break, the man wanted payback and got it. I mean the look on your face when he and Sam left all black opty and snuggly on the helicopter! He got revenge in spades. Wake up!”

Buffy looked shocked at the vehemence of Willow’s anger.

“You need to get really mad, really pissed at his jerkyness! And the creepiest, snarkiest thing he did was not tell you about Miss Perfect Wife when he first showed up!”

“You think?” Buffy asked in a quiet voice.

“I could slap them both hard!”

Willow stormed into the kitchen.

Buffy lay back on the couch and thought about Willows words. Trouble was she just couldn’t feel angry. Just couldn’t feel much at all.

But Willow had planted a tiny seed of doubt in her mind about her perception of Riley’s visit and step by step over the next few days she began re-live it in minute detail.

* * * * *

She started patrolling again, but carefully avoided Spike’s crypt. She didn’t want him to think that she’d gone back on what she said.

“It’s for his own good too,” she began to realize.

She’d been thinking that morning about the look in his eyes when she told him that their relationship was killing her. She’d never seen anyone express so much grief in a single glance.

“How could someone without a soul feel so deeply?” she wondered, and then pushed the thought out of her mind.

She couldn’t go there, those thoughts, that path led straight to madness. She’d chosen the higher ground, at least she hoped, needed to believe that she had. But all night long as she fought and killed and maimed the forces of evil, she had a sense that she was slightly, just slightly out of synch with the reality around her.

She didn’t even clean up when she got home. She was so exhausted with both the physical and emotional strain she was under she just threw herself into bed completely dressed and fell into a deep sleep.

* * * * *

She began to dream, and in her dream she was walking down the aisle with Riley. He held her protectively, and she felt so safe and loved in his arms. They were getting married, but the church was completely dark and she began to sense and smell the rotten scents of demons hovering unseen in the darkness which surrounded them. When they reached the alter, Riley let her go abruptly and began to laugh hysterically. She looked down at her wedding dress; it had turned into a Double Meat Palace uniform. Just at that moment, Sam got up from one of the pews and went over and stood next to Riley, grabbing his arm possessively, smirking at Buffy. Sam and Riley smiled sweetly at Buffy and then they both whispered coldly, “Psych!” Buffy began to feel as if she were falling down a long dark tunnel. She desperately tried to run away from the scene of her utter humiliation, it seemed, however, that the church aisle just kept getting longer the faster she ran. Suddenly, at a great distance she saw the church door slowly open. She took a giant leap and flung herself outside and lay panting and sobbing on the church porch. When she finally caught her breath, she raised her head and there, at the bottom of the steps, was Spike. He gave her a little wave, and a lopsided grin. Her Spike. William. He hadn’t run, hadn’t left her, hadn’t abandoned her.

* * * * *

When she woke up the next morning she was a complete sticky mess, her face covered and streaked with tears, her bed and covers and her whole body were covered with demon gore.

“What a nightmare,” she shuddered, remembering her dream. “That’s what I get for sleeping in Demon guts.”

But later, when she stood in the shower and let the hot water cleanse her she began to hum happily.

* * * * *

* * * * *

The fight had been horrible and a bit embarrassing for everyone. Buffy had finally laid it on the line for Dawn and Willow. They were going to have to help with expenses. That meant they all had to get jobs, not just Buffy.

“I can’t keep doing this all by myself guys, I’m never going back to the DMP and that’s all there is to it. I’m going back to school and getting a part time job. That means everyone, and I mean everyone,” she emphasized, giving Dawn a hard look, “has got to help.”

She put the want ad section from the newspaper down on the table.

“I thought you couldn’t get back into UCSD, Buffy.”

Dawn pushed the paper towards Willow.

Willow pushed the paper back towards Dawn.

“I’m taking 21 units. When will I ever have time to study if I get a job?”

Buffy leaned over the table, picked up the paper and ripped it in half. She shoved one half of the paper at Dawn and the other half of the paper at Willow.

“Not my problem Will. Ever hear of financial aid? And yes Dawn, I didn’t get into UCSD, I missed the deadline. I’m starting at Junior College and will transfer later. That clear?”

Buffy picked up her coat and slammed out of the house. After everything she sacrificed for everyone else, by god, she wasn’t going to lose this one last chance to escape the drudgery of her Double Meat existence. She had an appointment and she wasn’t going to miss it.

As she walked to her job interview, she remembered Spike’s words to her when he first found her working at the Double Meat - ‘you don’t belong here, you’re something… you’re better than this.’ And then she told she him she needed the money and his exact words to her were -‘I can get the money. Walk away with me now.’

“I can get the money.” She repeated the words out loud.

“God, Spike. Did you do it for me?” she thought to herself.

* * * * *

A few hours later she was shaking hands with her new boss.

“Young lady you have remarkable reflexes. Are you sure you never played a ‘Demon Blast’ game before?” Mr. St. John asked, with a puzzled look.

“No.” Buffy smiled. “Well at least not on a computer.”

“Well the job is yours. Anyone who can crash a program as fast as you can was born to test. It doesn’t pay much, but we can work out the hours with your classes. We have flex hours here.” He waved his hand toward the couches, sleeping bags and stacks of empty pizza boxes as if that explained everything.

“Start next Monday?”

Buffy laughed.

“Crashing, breaking, smashing…pizza…yeah…definitely my kind of job.”

* * * * *

That night she wanted to tell someone her good news but when she got home the house was empty. She thought perhaps she’d go out on patrol for a few hours and work off her excitement.

She’d cased the whole town, but there was not a vampire or demon in sight.

“What’s going on here?” she thought, “Demons on holiday?”

She kicked at a tombstone in frustration and gave a loud yelp at the sudden pain in her leg. She sat down and rubbed her calf. She was startled by the sound of laughter coming from beyond a small grove of trees. She realized the laughter was coming from Spike’s crypt.

Curiosity overcame her, and she walked silently toward the happy sound; she was stunned by the sight of Xander and Spike and a young woman she didn’t recognize. They were trying to get a large piece of sheet rock through Spike’s crypt door. She listened to their good natured argument in wonder. Who was the girl? When did Xander even start speaking to Spike? Something very odd was going on. She watched them for a few more minutes and then slowly crept away. She tried to figure out what she was feeling and finally came to the conclusion that she was just the tiniest bit jealous.

“Not my place to be jealous,” she told herself. “He’s not mine, I’m not his, there’s no us, never be an us.”

She suddenly felt extremely lonely as she realized the one person in this world that she wanted to share her news with was Spike. But she wouldn’t be sharing anything with him ever again. All of her excitement and happiness of the day faded.

“It’s all just another long hard struggle, and for what?” she thought.

She left the cemetery and trudged slowly back home.

“For what?” she yelled out loud.

All she could see before her was darkness, darkness and struggle stretching out over all her days until that last final day, that last final day when some demon would finally get ‘one good day’ with her and she’d escape back into blessed oblivion. Maybe sooner rather than later would be a good idea.

“No one will ever ask me again, to ‘walk away’ with them in this world,” she thought bleakly.

The next morning she was strangely subdued at breakfast. Willow and Dawn were excitedly talking over their plans for the capitalist expansion of the Summers household. Willow had gotten a promise from one of her professors for a part time research job and Dawn had found two babysitting jobs for the weekend.

“You know this is going to seriously cut into my growing social life, probably scar me forever.” She teased Buffy.

But Buffy just smiled a little sadly.

“I’m proud of you guys. And thanks. Thanks for trying.”

Later, she pulled Willow aside and said, “I need to ask you something important.”

Willow looked at Buffy nervously.

“No… I didn’t do any magic to get the job.”

“No, Will. That’s not it. It’s just that I need to know, need to be sure if something happens to me, you know, well in my Slayer incarnation, that you’ll take care of Dawn for me.”

“What are you talking about Buffy? No way. You’re gonna outlive us all, Miss ‘I heal in seconds’ Summers. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“Listen, you’re probably right, but just in case… will you?”

Buffy’s eyes began to tear up a bit.

Willow gave her a big hug. “Don’t worry, got it covered.”

As Buffy left the house, Willow gave her a worried look.

* * * * *

Spike’s crypt was nearing completion. Xander had really come through for him, bringing leftovers and recycled fixtures that were destined for the dump from his construction site. The only thing he’d balked at was painting Spike’s bedroom red.

“No way, you might get hungry while we’re painting and decide a nice happy meal on legs is worth the pain.” Xander had protested. He brought his cousin Jill over with him on the evening they were to paint.

“She’s my witness if you get hungry, plus she’s sworn to secrecy about our little project here. Don’t worry; she’s as desperate to get out of ‘Demon House’ as I am,” he laughed.

They built a wall of bookshelves and Clem, bless his wrinkly old face, had come through with a bit of cash. Spike sent him out on book buying sprees at second hand stores and garage sales. Clem always got rock bottom price. Some stuff, he claimed, people just donated. He brought other furnishings as well.

“I believe you, mate, one look at that mug of yours and they’d give you their first born,” Spike joked, as Clem protested that all his purchases were above board.

One night Spike woke up and found a TV and several of his favorite cheerleader movie videos sitting outside his door. He never found out who left them, but he thought he caught the scent of the Slayer on the tapes.

He’d tried to push thoughts of Buffy out of his mind. As the days passed he realized that he might have to face the possibility that she’d never come around, that things were definitely and completely over between them, yet he still worried about her, longed for her, needed her, and loved her. His emotional pain threshold was pretty high, thanks to Dru. He’d had 120 years to learn to live with disappointment; he thought he knew himself pretty well by now. But she, she was different; he wondered if she could survive the path she’d chosen. He knew instinctively it was the wrong path, if she didn’t face the slayer inside of her, the reality of her slayer self and her feelings for him she just might be lost forever.

* * * * *

Spike lay across his bed in the falling darkness and thought about the conversation he’d had with Xander last night. Spike had been trying to weasel a bit of info about Buffy and Xander ended up telling him the whole sad story of Riley and his new wife.

“Buffy seems pretty broken up by the whole thing, you’d think she’d actually loved the guy,” Xander said.

“But she did love him right?” Spike asked cautiously.

“Nah, maybe she wanted to, but, well… Riley told me just before he left the first time that Buffy never really loved him, and that’s why he left, I guess.”

“But why’s she so broken up now?”

Xander gave Spike a long look and shifted uncomfortably.

“Anya thinks Buffy’s in love with someone else.”

“Yeah? Happen to know who?” Spike asked and then he did the unthinkable, he answered his own question.

“Never mind, know who it is, she loves me.”

“No way! Someone been spiking your blood lately? No…” Xander looked at Spike’s crestfallen face. “Oh my god!”

“Not my fault mate, I love her too, can’t always control what happens between a man and a woman.”

“But the Slayer and you?”

“Looks who’s talking-Mr. Demon lover!” Spike growled.

“Oh. Big wow! Can’t you just un-love her?” He added, “So that’s why you didn’t leave after the big blow up!”

“No can’t un-love here. Can’t leave ‘cause one day she might really, really need me.”

“Geez Spike, you’re in worse trouble than me.”

Xander smiled cheerfully.

“Thanks mate, ‘preciate the thought.”

Spike gave Xander’s arm a playful, but hard punch.

* * * * *

That had been the conversation and Spike had gone over it in his mind many times during the day. She never loved Riley, and was very, very broken up. He worried about her. And tonight, lying on his bed, he began to felt something else, a very uncomfortable strange feeling that he’d never felt before. It was a tangle of sadness, anxiety, worry, a sense of failure and a feeling that there was something he’d forgotten to do. All of it in a big uncomfortable ball sitting like a hard knot in his chest.

“Is this guilt?” He wondered. “Bloody hell!” He shouted, his Zen vampire thing slipping a bit. “Everything is not my fault!” He paced the crypt restlessly. “I need a bit of fight tonight!” And he slammed out the door.

* * * * *

After class that afternoon, Buffy had an hour to kill before she had to go to home. She decided to spend some time at the college library catching up on some of the work she’d missed by starting school a few weeks late. The JC campus was quite different than the UCSD; it was located in several very old buildings and a converted warehouse. The library was in part of an old hacienda. The inside of the building was very cool and dark on this very hot late afternoon.

She found a quiet corner and spread her books out on the table. There was so much to catch up on, she felt overwhelmed. It was hard for her to see the end of all this studying. She didn’t even know what she wanted to do or become, still the counselor had told her yesterday when she’d signed up for classes not to worry, just take the requirements and something would eventually capture her imagination, give her a focus for the future.

Her imagination was exactly the problem. She didn’t seem to have any. Ever since she’d watched Spike and Xander the other night at Spike’s crypt she’d been overwhelmed with this awful sinking feeling inside. She felt like she was moving through water.

“What’s my problem?” She groaned inwardly. “Can’t I just snap out of this? My life is finally going in a direction I want. Willow and Dawn are coming around, new job that doesn’t involve grease, and back in school preparing for brilliant future. Evil bad vampire boyfriend out of my life, no more nasty degrading sex…”

She stopped on the last thought. A strong, fierce longing for Spike rose up inside her; it was so powerful that her hands were literally shaking. It wasn’t a purely sexually longing but a deep, hard primitive pain of the abyss of the lack of his very presence in her life. He no longer patrolled with her, they hadn’t spoken since she broke things off, they hadn’t even official ‘seen’ each other, if you didn’t count the two times Buffy had spied on him. She kept seeing his eyes, his face when she’d asked him if he loved her, wanted her, and then when she’d told him goodbye. She was haunted by his face she had to admit.

“Could he be doing this to me? Got one of his slime buddies to put a spell on me?”

She didn’t want to think of the possibility that everything she felt for Spike came right from her very own Buffy heart, her very own Slayer heart.

“Can’t take this anymore,” she spoke out loud and gathered up her books.

She left the library and literally sprinted home, reveling in the pure physical exertion of running. She burst into the house with a shout of ‘I’m home’, but no one was there. She saw the note sitting on the dining room table.

‘Dawn and I are taking a cooking class from Tara, sorry no diner tonight but just wait! - love ya Will.’

She threw herself down on the couch and watched the sunset through the living room window. Soon she was sitting in complete darkness.

“Alone, again. And no one needs me, wants me. What a relief.”

She suddenly felt the same fierce longing she’d felt earlier in the library.

“Spike wants me, well he wanted me,” She shifted into the past tense as she though about the woman she’d seen helping Spike and Xander the other day.

“He’s moved on, he’s happy not to have to deal with me. Maybe ‘she’ can give him what he wants.

She shook her head to rid herself of the depressive thoughts and stood up and stretched. With every ounce of emotional strength she made a resolution.

“I’ll cut this thing for Spike right out of me, smash it, kill it, maim it - banish it to hell along with him!”

She went out on patrol with new found resolution and eagerness to do some serious Slayer business. The problem was the demons and vampires just weren’t playing tonight. She roamed around looking for a fight and couldn’t find one single, evil thing.

“Something strange is going on, this is the second night and no one to fight with.”

She stood on the edge of the cemetery swinging her arms around, shadow boxing in the moonlight.

* * * * *

An earsplitting roar sounded behind her and she was slammed hard to the ground. She turned her head and caught a quick glimpse at the ten foot demon who was crouching over her before her head was smacked hard with his brutal fist. She lay still for a few seconds, playing dead and then twisted over and jumped to her feet. She threw a hard side kick and hit the demon in the stomach. The demon stood up to his full height and let out a heart rending scream. He bent over and grabbed Buffy by the neck and swung her over several gravestones, slamming her hard into the side of a crypt. She jumped up and grabbed the side of her face; blood was streaming from a large wound in her forehead. She swayed and started to fall, suddenly dizzy with pain and slightly blinded by the blood flowing into her eyes. She moved hesitantly toward the demon and swung out blindly. The demon grasped her arm and threw her again down onto the grass; he stood over her grinning evilly.

“Guess your time’s up, Slayer,” He croaked and raised his foot ready to slam it onto her neck.

Suddenly everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Buffy saw the demon start to lift his foot. A quiet wave of peace flowed through her.

“This is it, at last.”

She felt a sense of relief. It was going to be all over now, all the struggle, all the pain, all the desperate wanting and needing, the fear and uncertainty. All over.

In the back of her mind she remembered Spike’s words from long time ago, “Death is on your heels baby…some part of you wants it…is desperate to know what it’s like, where does it lead you…every slayer has a death wish…even you.”

She let out a deep sigh. She turned her head not wanting to see the instrument of her final destruction.

And then she heard a voice desperately calling her name, and Spike’s face rose before her in her mind’s eye, crying out that he loved her. And the fierce longing rose for him inside her and she finally realized it for what it was. She loved him, loved him and it was real love, strong and brilliant, it had nothing to do with good and evil, it just was. It was just a mysterious and beautiful part of the long stream of reality, which she’s just been so eager to throw away. And it was as if someone had thrown a torrent of ice cold water over her face.

“I’m not ready to die! I don’t want to die!” She cried.

She reached up, and with brutal force, ripped off the demon’s foot. She scrambled to her feet and ripped a tombstone from a grave and began smashing the demon in the head.

“I WANT TO LIVE!” she screamed.

And with each word, she slammed the demon’s head deeper into the ground.

“I think he’s quite done for, pet.”

She dropped the gravestone at the sound of his voice. She fell to her knees next to the body of the demon and began to cry her heart out; her tears and blood streaming down face onto the dead body before her. The last thing she remembered, before she passed out, was a pair of strong arms gently lifting her off the ground and his voice whispering in her ear, “I’m here love.”

* * * * *

He carried her slowly back to his crypt, her face, nestled against his chest, was pale in the moonlight. The warmth of her body, pressed tightly against his, gave him comfort that she’d make it through this night. The wound on her forehead was nasty, but would heal, was already starting to heal, the blood flow staunched at last by her powerful Slayer spirit. Ah, he loved this small woman, this fierce, beautiful woman. She’d done it, made it through.

He shuddered at the memory of her lying on the ground almost willing the demon to finish her off. But she came through, did it on her own, made her own decision to live. A strange feeling of pride swept through him, pride and tenderness for this woman who’d finally faced her life. He wondered what had made her change so abruptly at the end to rise up in protest to claim her life instead of death and what was she thinking of when she screamed ‘I want to live!’ Perhaps he’d never know.

He thought of the feeling of guilt he’d had just before he’d found her in her deadly embrace with the demon. He realized that if she’d died, he’d be partially responsible, because he’d let her down badly, he hadn’t realized the power of her need to be good, to cling to some semblance of normality. It was a part of her nature that he’d never accepted but, by god, if she gave him another chance, he’d give it his best try. He knew now if he truly loved her he’d have to respect both the light and dark side of her nature.

He placed her gently down on the bed. She was still unconscious. He lit several candles and placed them near the bed; didn’t want her to wake up to complete darkness. He removed her filthy, torn clothes and tried his best to clean her up and bandage her wound. He searched around in his dresser and found the silk night gown he’d purchased for her on one of his more hopeful days. He tucked the covers around her tightly and then, removing his duster, he lay down on the bed next to her and pulled her body close to his, letting her head rest lightly on the curve of his neck. He needed to feel her breathing, he counted every breath as if it were a gift from heaven; her warm, sweet breath against his neck, lulled him into a deep sleep.

* * * * *

Buffy woke a few hours later. She sleepily watched the candlelight flicker against the wall and wondered where she was and then she felt the strong arms that held her and the cool silken skin which pressed against her cheek.

“William,” she sighed and nestled deeper into his arms. She placed a small kiss on his neck and nuzzled against him, breathing in his scent. He stirred at her movement and turned his head towards hers, he smiled in his sleep.

“What’s he smiling about?” she wondered and placed her fingers lightly on his lips. He gave one of her fingers a playful bite and opened his eyes and gazed down at her face.

“Feeling better?” he asked softly.

“You’re here,” she replied, and ran her fingers across his face and through his tousled hair.

“Been here, love. Always be here for you.”

He turned a bit in the bed and lay facing her. His hands began to gently explore her injuries, to lightly caress her shoulder and naked arm.

“What do you want love?” he asked.

“Want to live, want to be with you. Need you.”

“For just now?” he asked, the knot of pain in his chest tightening in anticipation of her response.

“For as long as I’m alive.”

“That’s a long time, pet. Unless you decide to tangle with the likes of the demon last night again without me watching your back. Are you sure?”

She closed her eyes, leant over and kissed him softly. She murmured against his lips, “Forever sure.”

He opened his lips and pulled her into a deep tender kiss. He felt her pulse begin to rise and the pain in his heart melted completely under the warmth of her response, her need for him.

He pulled away from her gently and stood up and removed his clothes. She watched with a deep, peaceful heart as he revealed the beauty of his body to her. She threw back the covers and stretched out her arms to him.

“Come” she said. “Come to me.”

He knelt on the bed beside her and slowly caressed the silken gown that covered her body.

“And this is what you want from me love?” he said a little sadly.

She sat up and kneeled on the bed facing him. She pulled the nightgown over her head and gave him a deep look. Their knees touched lightly. She took his hands in hers and placed them over her breasts.

“This is only one of the many things I want from you.”

She rose up and pulled his head against her breast, he sighed and pushed her back onto the bed and covered her body with the full length of his. Her arms surrounded him, she entwined her legs with his, she opened her lips and pulled him into a deep kiss. She felt that she had taken every part of him into her completely, fully. And slowly she felt the barrier of skin and bone and blood dissolve between them, felt such a deep binding oneness with him that she felt a touch of fear.

He sensed her begin to pull back, so he did it first. He’d never felt such love as he did lying there, surrounded by, deep inside of every inch of this woman. But he’d let her lead this time, wouldn’t assume anything ‘cause life was too bloody long for him to lose her again.

She broke their kiss and turned her head to whisper in his ear. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

He pulled up a little and positioned himself, head on hand, so he could watch her as she spoke.

“I wanted to die.”

“I know, love; saw it in your eyes.”

“It was just like you said, the Slayer thing, seeking that final escape.”

“I was a bloody fool to scare you with all that stuff.”

“No, no, I need you to always tell me the truth, even if it’s ugly or bad. You’re the only one who’s always brutally honest with me.”

“Yeah, well I’ll try to keep it up at my end. By the way I hate your hair.”

She smiled and slapped him on the back lightly.

“Well you could lie a little bit sometimes.”

“What changed you mind there, love, you know, when you decided to rip off the poor gint’s foot and finally give him the heave ho?”

“I heard you calling me, calling my name. You did call out to me, didn’t you?”

“I’ve always been calling for you love; you’re in my blood you know.”

“Yes it was just like that. Your voice, inside and outside of me at the same time,” she said.

“You’re so bloody deep inside me,” he sighed. “I could never leave you alone, knew I always had to be here even from a distance.”

She gently touched his cheek with her hand.

“I kept seeing your face, hearing your words in my head. You were right about so many things. I just wanted to talk with you, see you, but it seemed I wouldn’t find my way to you ever again. Just kind of gave up.”

“Until you heard me calling and then…”

“And then I knew I wanted to live, ‘cause there was something I had to tell you.”

“And what’s that?”

“Love you, Spike.”

* * * * *

The tears came suddenly to his eyes and he pulled her into a fierce embrace, trying to hide them from her, but she turned so that she could slowly kiss them as they fell and they were salty and cool on her tongue. He began to make slow and tender love to her.

It felt like a dance to her, this slow and rhythmical lovemaking, a long deep dance which they’d begun so long ago, his cool skin slipping across her body, soothing her, arousing her, pulling her into his steady, patient pace.

He traced his tongue along the curve of her neck and down to the softness of her breasts, her warmth embracing him completely.

She cried with pleasure at each touch, so intense and wild. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, to pull him closer, if that was possible, deeper into this dance, this dance with him. She whispered his name, moaned his name.

He felt her claim him with the power and heat of her blood, he groaned and he pressed her lips in a deep kiss. She felt the cool waves of his love healing her and making her whole.

They dissolved together, their blood and limbs and very cells blessed by this complete union, flowing so strongly into each other that at last it seemed there was nothing, nothing that would ever separate them again.

* * * * *

Later, as they lay entangled in each other’s arms, they spoke of what the future might bring for them.

“So where do we go from here?” he asked.

“Well first you need to tell me why your walls are pink.”

“Not pink!” he exclaimed. “Dark Rose. Wanted red. Blame it on Xander and his cousin. They forced me into it.”

“Hard to believe anyone can force you to do anything. Been there.”

“Yeah, I’m a bloody hardheaded fool.”

“My fool.” She kissed his hand.

She gave him a long serious look, “Will you always be bad?”

“Not all bad, love, just a bit wild and untamed. Besides I hate feeling guilty.”

“You? Feeling guilty?”

“Damned awful feeling, much nastier than chip pain.”

“You could ask me, you know, before you get yourself in deep again.”

“Will be sure to check in first, before my next evil money making scheme.”

“You did it for me, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, also had my eye on a lovely little sports coupe.”

She gave him several playful punches.

“And tomorrow, what happens tomorrow?” he asked again, clasping her wrists lightly and pulling her closer to him.

“I go to school and then you come for dinner, and then we patrol together, and then we come back here and then…”

He gave a small sigh of joy and kissed her hard.

“Tomorrow can wait a bit.”

FINIS