"You've improved since the last time we did something of this sort," Angel mused aloud, sipping at his beer but not really indulging heavily as the two soaked up the Bronze atmosphere.

Spike spared a sideways look at his sire, who stood leaning against the edge of one of the Bronze's many pool tables. "I've had practice."

"They told me."

"They? Oh, you mean the funny voices in your head that only talk to you when you're alone?"

"Your friends."

"My friends. And what exactly did the friends I'm not supposed to have, but have anyway, say to you about me?" Spike drawled, letting the second dart go. It landed slightly lower than the one before it, and he growled in annoyance. Angel just loved to throw him off balance, didn't he?

"They told me that after Buffy died, you trained. Everyday. For hours. They told me you broke yourself trying to be good enough to protect Sunnydale."

The younger vampire avoided eye contact with his grand-sire as he took up his last dart. "Yeah, well, they lied to you."

"Did they?"

"Only reason I trained like I did was to keep from takin' myself out for a noonday stroll. Had to do something with myself to make up for the grand fuck up back on Glory's tower. Had to be good enough to protect Dawn till the end of the world," Spike responded. "Don't make it sound more heroic than it is, Poofter."

"It was heroic."

"It was selfish. Was for my own gratification, all right? No other reason for it than it made me feel better `bout myself," Spike shot back, glaring at his too calm elder.

Angel shrugged. "If that's what makes you feel better."

"It bloody well does, so can we all shut the fuck up and play the soddin' game?"

Angel regarded his childe for a moment, before getting up from his spot against the pool table. He grabbed three blue tailed darts. "All right," Angel conceded, closing one eye and cocking his head slightly as he aimed his projectile. "You know, it was weird, coming back here and seeing you and Buffy on good terms." He let the dart fly. "I've seen a lot of things in my time, but I never thought I'd ever see that."

"Well bully for you. What's next, Northern Lights maybe? Ripley's Believe It Or Not?"

The darker vampire ignored his insolent younger. "How does it feel, fighting for the good side?"

"I don't fight for any side," Spike snorted derisively as he slammed down half of his Guinness, taking Angel's vacated spot against the pool table.

"No sides huh? So what are you doing now?"

"'m fightin' for Dawn, and the Scoobies. For Buffy. No one else."

"You think it's selfish to fight for the people you care about?"

"Maybe."

"Newsflash, my boy, it's not like that. The more you fight for the people you love, the more you sympathize with other people, and the people they love."

Spike growled. "Where's the sappy philosophy all leadin' to, Peaches? Cuz if you'd just skip to the point, we could save everyone a lot of time."

Angel looked nonplussed, and threw another dart. It landed to the right of Spike's.

"You saved a girl the other night, near the woods. For no other reason than to save her."

"Do the damn Scoobies file reports on me and give `em to you for interrogation fodder or somethin'? What the hell is this?"

Angel threw the last dart, and it landed on the line beside the bulls-eye. "Just be honest with me for a second, Will. What made you save that girl?"

Spike eyed his grand-sire warily. He was met with the elder vampire's usual, stoic, patient façade, and knew that the Grand Poo-ba would push, and push, and push until he got the truth. The younger vampire sighed in defeat. "Thought about Dawn," he admitted, quietly. "Thought that maybe that girl bein' dragged off by some big nasty meant as much to someone else out there as Dawn meant to me. Would have destroyed me if I'd ever lost Sweet Pea the way that girl was goin' to go if I let it happen. Thought maybe if I let someone lose their girl, they'd be in as much pain as I would if I'da lost Dawn. Didn't think anyone deserved that much hurt." He shrugged one shoulder casually and pulled out a cigarette. It was on his lips and he was searching for his lighter before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be smoking anymore. Growling, he spit the whole stick out and kicked it halfheartedly across the floor.

Angel came back to lean on the pool table beside Spike, and the two vampires faced the dartboard across the way together. There was quiet, nothing save for the pulsating music and the chatter of the people around them. The older vampire cleared his throat after a beat. "Yeah. So. Welcome to the good guys."

"Just call me Poofy The Second and give me my bleedin' cape and tights," Spike sighed in response. Angel nodded sympathetically and motioned for a waitress by the bar to bring them two more beers.

"It gets easier with time, Spike."

"No it doesn't."

Angel shoved his hands into his duster pockets. "Yeah, you're right, it doesn't. I guess I was just trying to make you feel better." They sat for a while longer, both brooding. The waitress brought them too more beers, studying both a little before heading back to the bar. They looked more related at that moment than anyone might have ever pegged them for before.

"It's hard, but it's worth it, you know," Angel offered after a bit.

Spike's gaze traveled slowly upwards from the floor, across the bar to Buffy's table. She sat with her group of friends, old and new, talking and laughing while Dawn sipped her soda and bobbed her head to the music in the most delightfully adorable fashion. William the Bloody smiled tenderly. "Yeah. It's worth it."

Angel stood up. "I'm going to go get Fred. Teach her how to dance. I'm not sure she remembers music."

Spike eyed his sire, and instead of the usual look of animosity he had when dealing with the older vampire, his eyes sparkled a bit mischievously. "Takin' a shining to that one, yeah?"

Angel ignored him. "You should dance too. This is a nice song."

Spike stood up beside Angel. "You're subtlety's improving."

"Yeah, but like you're dart game, it's still slightly to the left," Angel shot back, though there was no vehemence behind it. "Come on." He led the way through the crowd, weaving a path towards Buffy's table. Spike followed behind, a bit reluctantly.

"Wait a bloody minute here, Cream Puff. You mean to tell me you're actually pushing me towards the love of your life?"

Angel thought about the question for a bit, seeing as it had been a completely valid one. He was Buffy's first love. She had been his everything for the longest time, as well. It took him a while to find the difference between what she and he had had, and what he saw between her and his grand-childe now. But he found it, eventually, and shrugged in response to Spike's inquiry. "I was just her first love, you know."

"So kind of you to constantly point that out. But it still doesn't answer my question. Why me?"

"I was her first love. It isn't the same as being the love of her life, William."

"So you're saying…"

"Love her. Take care of her. Make her feel something that I never could."

"Oh, and what might that be, exactly?"

"Everything."

Spike decided it was time to shut up.

"Don't look now, Buffy…total hotties at ten o'clock," Dawn giggled, looking over her sister's shoulder. "And one of them's so obviously checking you out."

"He's not coming over here, is he?" Buffy replied, not interested in the slightest. She was preoccupied with things of greater consequence than the college boy with the crush. She had to find Spike and talk to him. Tonight. She was going to face him tonight. At least, it was what she told herself she was going to do…

"He's doing the moth to the flame thing…all intense and sexy… and he's headed right over here," Willow giggled, sharing a look with Dawn.

"He is sooo hot, Buffy, you need to turn around and see this guy," Dawn prompted.

Buffy sighed. "Look, I don't care how cute he is," the slayer stated, putting her foot down as she began to turn around and face whomever it was that had caught Dawn and Willow's attention. "I'm going to tell him right off that I'm just not interested and that he should…" She trailed off as she turned around and saw Angel and Spike headed straight for them. She looked at her sister and her best friend. "That was not even funny. And you…" she pointed at Tara. "No warning?"

"They w-weren't lying… totally cute guys…" Tara mumbled in a combination of complete shyness and sly wickedness.

"And the blonde one wants you," Willow added, giggly.

"Willow! That's your friend Spike that you're talking about!"

"Well, he does. He's all up into the Buffy package. It's cute."

"Yeah… way cute," Tara agreed.

"And Spike has a nice ass," Anya added. Xander made a face.

"That was the last thing I ever wanted to hear from my fiancé…"

"Yet completely unsurprising that we heard it anyway," Cordy put in without missing a beat. Xander looked at her. It was like she never left Sunnydale.

Angel reached the table first. He coughed, eyeing everyone there. "Um, does someone want to dance?"

Gunn looked surprised. "I almost saw Angel sing, now I gotta see him dance?" he asked, incredulous. "No thank you. In fact, turn that to a hell no. I'm out for the night ya'll. Might be safer if I go look for some vamps to dust." He put his drink down and left the table. "Who knew sittin' back at the shop with Watchers one and two would have been safer than clubbin' for the night?" he muttered to himself, on the way out of the door.

"I'm going with him," Cordy stated. "This way lies too many bad memories." She looked at Angel. "I'll see you back at the hotel."

"Yeah. Okay." Angel watched her follow Gunn before turning back to the ladies at the table. "So…dance?"

"Dance?" Fred asked, adjusting her glasses and pushing around the ice in her glass with her straw.

"What those people are doing all around," Xander pointed out helpfully, motioning to the clubbers sprawled all over the floor around the room. "Well, I guess it passes for dancing in some circles."

Angel held out his hand to Fred. "C'mon. I'll show you."

She stood up, taking his hand gently. "There wasn't any noise like this on Pylea."

"Yeah, Lorne told me about that, not having music. It's not that bad, the music, that is. Most of it anyway."

Buffy watched them go. "I like her."

"She's been through a lot," Willow agreed. "It's good that Angel's trying to take care of her."

The slayer regarded the two on the dance floor thoughtfully. "Yeah. He'll be good for her. And I think she'll help him a lot, too."

Spike slid into the seat Gunn had vacated next to Dawn. "How you feeling, Platelet?"

She smiled and shook her glass, causing the ice to clink inside. "Building back my strength. Which is cool, cuz I've never had so much junk food in my life. I'm glad we threw in this extra Bronze night to celebrate me not being dead. How `bout you? I mean, how are you feeling? Okay?" She looked slightly guilty as she asked him that.

"Slightly sore in parts, but better, pet." He ruffled her hair fondly, which caused her to roll her eyes and pat it back down.

"Thank you for treating me like I'm five years old."

Spike smirked. "You're treated how you act… Brat."

"Punk," she responded, though there was never any real vehemence behind their teasing. After a second she settled back into her seat and followed her sister's gaze out on the floor to Angel and Fred, who were dancing comfortably with one another. "Is that total cuteness or what?"

"She's a sweet girl, that one," the vampire agreed. "Never thought I'd see the day the Poof…er…Angel danced like that, in front of people," Spike admitted.

Buffy turned back around from studying her old love and his new friend. Surprisingly, she was fine. Better than she thought she'd be. And she agreed. It was cuteness. If anyone could help Fred get over her horrendous experience in Pylea, it would be Angel. "He looks good when he smiles like that," she said quietly.

Spike looked down at the table. He didn't say anything. It must have been hard for her, if how hard it was for Angel was any indication. Not to mention he hated that Puffy could make her voice go all soft like that.

Buffy bit back a little smile at his antics. What was it about her that got him so worked up when she even mentioned another man? What did he see in her that so many men before had looked past? It was strange, watching him react to every little thing she did, made her feel like the most important thing in the world. "Spike?" she asked, breaking the quiet at the table.

He looked up. "Yeah, pet?"

"Dance?"

He gave her a look that told her she already knew the answer to that. Smiling, she got up and took his hand without thinking or hesitation, and led him out onto the floor. She was going to talk to him. She had Willow's resolve face on. On the inside. She was going to talk to him, and they were going to dance, and she was not going to care about anything but those strange feelings that her body associated with Spike, and Spike alone.

When they found a spot on the dance floor he made to go as they had danced before, hands at her hips and arms outstretched so as not to alienate her with his presence. But before he could finish the gesture, hands were wrapped around his neck and a cheek was pressed firmly against the juncture of his throat and shoulder. He almost leapt from the shock of it and at the same time was too paralyzed to move. What a strange, strange world he, William the Bloody, lived in. He decided to close his eye and just enjoy it. For however fleeting a moment it might be.

Well I'm wrapped around your finger

I'm never letting go

You know I'm happy just to linger

And let the feeling flow

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, gathering strength from his presence while at the same time, marveling about the irony of the entire situation. She was using Spike to pull herself together enough to be able to talk to Spike. How much had she come to rely on this man for over the past few months? The past few years? In her head she began ticking off the things she loved about him… the things that made her laugh and the things that made her angry but which she loved anyway. The list grew rather long, until she was uttering such trivial lovesick proclamations as to the way he sometimes had his shirt half tucked in and half out when she went to see him at his crypt. Perhaps the thing about him that popped up most in his favor to her was his ability to always be completely honest with her but not alienate her with that honesty. She mused that he'd always been confrontational, in any case. And his ability to read human emotion was startling, for someone who wasn't supposed to feel them, let alone be able to see them. He always seemed acutely aware when Tara was feeling timid, or Dawn was feeling afraid, or she herself was feeling uncertain. And he always adjusted himself to suit them, whether to be Tara's clown, Dawn's protector, or her confidence.

This must be an illusion

I know this can't be real

But right here and right now

This is paradise I feel

I never thought I'd find someone to move me

Someone who could see right through me

You found your way into my head

Where even angels fear to tread

She opened her eyes slightly to look at him, and a little smile of delight lit up her face when she read the pure bliss written across his face, from the lightly closed eyes, to the almost wishful expression on his face. Marveling at the thought that she could in turn, make him look so completely content, she sighed and drew herself closer to him, inhaling the scent that was uniquely him, and until today, had no idea she'd memorized and come to cherish. She exhaled with a small sigh of satisfaction. He did this to her. He made her calm, and made her relaxed, and then turned right around and made her angry, made her exasperated, and made her laugh again.

Don't wanna go out walkin'

Don't wanna take a drive

Don't wanna move from this sweet spot baby

While this feelin's still alive

The way we fit together

It's like we're meant to be

And right here and right now

This is paradise to me

His hold tightened on her at the small noise of pleasure she'd made, and he wondered when he had fallen asleep, and when he was going to wake up. It all seemed unreal, this. And dream as it may be, he wasn't looking to wake up, anytime soon. He emitted a low, contented growl from the back of his throat and laid cheek against the soft pillow of her hair. Maybe there was redemption to be found for a creature like him in the world after all.

Angel laughed when Fred finally got the hang of it, laughing delightedly. "This sounds nice," she commented, nodding with enthusiasm.

He nodded. "You're doing well. I haven't danced in a long time either." And as if the Powers were still mocking him, the music changed. Something slow, and something sweet in all its sadness. The movements of the humans around them slowed to match the melancholy beat, and Fred looked slightly bewildered at the drastic change of pace.

"Did it stop?" she asked, looking around.

"No, it's just…different," Angel explained, hesitantly. "See… like… um, like this…" he put his hands on her waist, lightly. She looked a bit startled at first, but eased into it with his cues. "Just put your hands on my shoulders," he instructed softly. She complied readily, still looking rather uncertain, though smiling at him luminously anyway. He returned it. "Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

He moved his feet slightly, and she mimicked him. "Good."

"I think I remember this," she said after watching their feet move for a little bit. "Except I was standing on feet."

"You mean when you were younger?" he asked. "With your dad maybe? Unless you mean you stepped on someone's feet on accident…"

"No… I was standing." She looked upward thoughtfully. "Daddy liked country music," she blurted. Then she laughed. "That was a long time ago, though."

"But you remember what this is… that's good," Angel urged gently. "See if you can keep remembering."

"Okay…" She laid her head on his chest. "Just tell me if I do anythin' wrong…" She turned up so that her chin was poking him slightly so she could look at him. "Okay?"

He nodded. "Sure. Yeah."

"Kay." She turned her cheek back against him and closed her eyes. He looked down at the head of dark hair pillowed against his shirt for a second and smiled ironically. Who would have known this was how things would be, merely two and a half years ago?

He spared a look forward, over Fred's head, and saw Buffy and Spike dancing together. He watched them for a second, their eyes closed and completely self-satisfied expressions on both faces.

Wish I could be the one

The one who could give you love

The kind of love you really need

Wish I could say to you

That I'll always stay with you

But baby that's not me

He remembered a story in the back of his mind, of a place a long time ago, where there had been a girl that looked like that in his arms and everything had seemed right. Back then, it seemed that there would be happy ending for both the girl and he together. That happily ever after that everyone dreamt of when they were that much in love. Watching her now, through different eyes than those of the man in the story, he realized perhaps there could still be happily ever after for them, if not them together.

You need someone

Willing to give their heart and soul to you

Promise you forever

Baby that's something I can't do

So this was it then. He was really, fully, 100% coming to terms with everything that was his old life here in Sunnydale. He belonged to LA officially now. Buffy, and the Scoobies were a cherished part of the past that he had to let go of but would always remember fondly. They'd moved on from him, as well. They had Spike now. Buffy had Spike. She didn't need him, didn't need him to come running to her rescue every time he thought she was in trouble.

Oh I could say that I'll be all you need

But that would be a lie

I know I'd only hurt you

I know I'd only make you cry

I'm not the one you need

I love you, goodbye

Maybe he should have just used the phone to call and warn Buffy of the danger, like Cordy had suggested. But at that moment in the past when he'd decided to rev up the convertible and drive for the Hellmouth, he hadn't known.

I hope you can

Find some way to understand

I'm only doing this for you

I don't really want to go

But deep in my heart I know

This is the kindest thing to do

He hadn't known that he was the last person Buffy needed to protect her. She could do it herself. What she needed now, what she'd grown to need since he'd left her, was someone who was just there. Someone who didn't assume she needed taking care of. She needed someone who could comfort her without making her feel weak. Who could just look at her and know exactly what she was feeling and thinking and wanting. Who didn't let her fool herself into thinking certain things just because they were easier than the truth.

You'll find someone

Who will be the one I could never be

Who will give you something better

Than the love you'll find with me

She'd grown up a lot these three and a half years without him. She'd become strong and beautiful, confident. She wasn't that unsure teenager that needed protecting, and needed softly murmured reassurances whispered in her ear to soothe her. Maybe back then those sorts of things were what Buffy had wanted. Today, in this day and time, it was the last thing she needed. Spike had been there, had comforted without pushing, had reassured without babying.

Oh I could say that I'll be all you need

But that would be a crime

I know I'd only hurt you

I know I'd only make you cry

I'm not the one you need

I love you, goodbye

Maybe the worst part of it was Buffy had moved on. He still loved her. Still ached to touch her every time he saw her, remembered her kiss and the feel of her, the sound of his name on her lips. He remembered every little thing about her in painstaking, graphic detail, and she'd moved on. He hoped she would cherish what they had had during their once upon a time forever, hold it in her heart as he did. If she didn't, perhaps that would be enough to undo him.

Leaving someone

When you love someone

Is the hardest thing to do

When love someone as much as I love you

Fred murmured something about fried chicken and biscuits against his chest and he took a moment to watch her, before training his gaze back on Buffy and Spike. They fit together well, those two. He hated to admit it, to even think it, but the proof was there. And the proof went farther, when he looked at Dawn, and how much she adored Spike, and at Xander, who with whom he had even grown to be buddies. Anya appreciated his opinions and liked his style. Tara loved the vampire like a brother and Willow enjoyed his company and his humor.

As for Buffy? Buffy lived for her banter with Spike, ached for his support, hated his wit, was comforted his presence, was enraged by his tongue and captivated by his voice. She was frustrated by his gall, bashful from his intensity, and vexed by his honesty. She needed his perspective, craved their dance, and despite what she might have said if told, always seemed mesmerized by his eyes.

Oh I don't wanna leave you

Baby it tears me up inside

But I'll never be the one you need

I love you, goodbye

That was it, then, wasn't it? Buffy and Spike stood in their own light, dancing on the other side of the room, blissfully inattentive to anything but the music and the presence of one other. This was really the end now. Angel saw the figurative book with "Buffy and Angel" written across the cover flip the last page in his mind. It was strange for the 250-year-old vampire to come to terms with this sort of thing. Yet there it was. The end. Big, beautiful, gold letters in classic script, sprawling the very last page of his and Buffy's story. The book was pushed to the side, away from the light, so that a new story could take its place. The end.

But it's not gonna work out

I love you, goodbye

The pain, it ached, but it wasn't so raw now that he'd coped with it, accepted it. And with the end, Angel decided that tonight would be as good a night as any to leave Sunnydale for the last time. The end of the affair with the Hellmouth and its inhabitants had really begun with his 100 years in hell. It reached its epoch tonight. The end. He was going back to LA and the life that he had started there.

Angel turned away from Buffy and Spike as the music faded, looking instead to the door he had seen Gunn and Cordelia go out of moments before, and then down at Fred, head still feather light against the place his heartbeat would be if he had one. The end of something old always led to the beginning of something else.

With that in mind, he stopped moving, and nudged the girl in his arms gently. "Fred…"

She looked up and smiled. "Yeah?"

"We're going back to LA now."

"Now?"

He nodded.

Her smile brightened, if it were possible. "Kay. It was nice here."

"Yeah. It was nice. But it's time to go home."

"Home is nice, too."

He released her, and she took his hand and led them towards the door. "Can we stop at Taco Bell on the way?"

"I don't see why not."

Angel left the Bronze without a backwards glance, knowing he didn't have to say goodbye, because he already had, a long time ago.

The music stopped and Buffy ceased her movements along with it. She decided it was time now. No more playing, no more lies and no more waiting. It was time to face her fears, and try to be happy. Like Angel had said. She wanted to be happy. She was ready.

Spike's body complied with hers and came to a halt, his eyes opening slowly, reluctantly, so as to meet her own. "Pet?" The voice was barely above a whisper, questioning and longing all in one syllable.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked breathily, detaching her head from against his chest so she could look up into his eyes.

"Anything."

She chuckled to herself. "I told myself this should be hard, that it should never be this easy, but I look at you and it doesn't seem that bad."

"What's bad?" he asked, concerned. The hand resting against the small of her back clenched and his arms tightened on her slightly by his unconscious effort.

She shook her head and unwrapped her arms from around his throat, resting her palms on the curve of his shoulders. Running her thumbs in small circles against the leather of his duster, she tilted her head slightly to the side and relaxed back into his embrace. "I had this speech all planned out. I was going to wow you with my insight and wit, and you were going to be completely taken with every word I said."

He laughed quietly, deeply, in the back of his throat. "Pet, you could say the whelp's name all night and I'd still be captivated by you."

She turned slightly pink around the ears and looked downward. "You're a strange vampire," she revealed softly.

"But that's why you lo…er… like me." He looked to the floor as well, aware of the slip he'd made and the futile attempt to cover it.

Her eyes twinkled, seeing him look like that. It was the singularly most adorable, most endearing thing he possibly could have done at that moment. "Yeah… about that…" She put her hand under his chin and brought it upwards, so he'd look at her.

"About what?"

"Me liking you."

"Yeah?"

"I don't."

He paused, motionless for a complete moment, and then she watched as he shattered right in front of her. It was the kind of shattering that held nothing back. It let her know that if there was one way to destroy the vampire that she could never kill before, she had found it. Buffy instantly felt bad for saying what she had. "Spike, look at me," she prompted gently, voice quiet but still demanding.

As much as he didn't want to, he forced those completely exquisite eyes of his open once more, and looked at her. Simply because she'd asked him to, and no matter what she did to him, he would always do what she asked of him. "Let me finish," she whispered, hand against his cheek.

"Back at the shop, when we were talking? I thought I was going to let you know then, you know? It would have been less dramatic that way. I thought it would be easier, and everything would just go perfect from then on. But I think this is better. There's nothing else for me to think about right now, like there was back at the shop. Back at the shop, I was thinking about you, and Angel, and Dawn, and it was all a mess. But now, I can concentrate on what's important." She paused, taking a deep breath. "When Angel and I were in the training room, he asked me what made me happy."

"Sounds like the sort of question Poo-ba would ask," Spike said softly, though with more resignation than vehemence in is voice.

"He's smarter than you give him credit for you know. He made me think about some things for the first time. Things I'd been feeling. And sure, it was all, I feel, but I don't act sort of thing, and I did that `cause it was safe, you know? They were the sort of things I didn't want to deal with. But Angel made me think. They're not the kinds of things that will just go away, you know? You either deal with them or you regret every second of your life afterwards for ignoring them." Her other hand drifted to the front of his duster, and she rubbed the collar in-between her thumb and forefinger absently. "I can't really remember the big speech I was going to give you back at the shop…"

"This one seems big enough to make up for it," he responded, that ironically defeated look still on his face.

"Yeah, well, I'm done now. With the talking. Mostly. I thought that the big, eloquent speech would make it easier for me to say what I have to say, you know? But now that we're here, and I'm doing the talking, I'm thinking that maybe it's not. It's already easy, with just you here." She paused. "Right. Done talking now."

"Is that it then… you don't like me?"

"Yes." She got that heartbroken look again, felt his arms detaching from where they rested around her. Her own hands shot to his to stop them, gripping the inside of his elbow almost desperately. "Because I think I might love you."

He completely froze for the second time that night. Only longer than before. She felt like she was being studied under a microscope, and shifted uncomfortably under the intensity of the look she was under through him. But it kept coming. He didn't move, still as death (which she supposed was appropriate), eyes locked on her. The only sign that he had comprehended what she'd said was the flash change his eyes had gone through, from that dull, depressed color of periwinkle to a sparkling, crackling cerulean that might just sear her from the inside out if allowed to continue as they were. "Say something?" she pleaded softly, brow furrowing with slight worry. "Please?"

His response was to place his hands on either side of her face, a genuine, almost disbelieving smile on his face. "Buffy…"

She unconsciously leaned into his touch. "Hmmm?"

"I'm going to kiss you now." His voice was thick with emotion, and he swallowed heavily. "And if you don't want me to, you'll have to bloody well kill me." He waited a beat for her, letting her come to terms with the possible ramifications of what was about to happen between them. He didn't want any regrets.

Her hand went up over one of his resting on her face, and she squeezed it gently. "I'm ready."

Or she thought she was ready, until Spike kissed her. Really kissed her. Not a soft peck like earlier, or the brush she'd given him the day he'd sacrificed his physical health for that of her sister and herself. This was different than all of those times; this was real.

His palms loosened on her cheeks, and slid down to her shoulders, pulling her flush against him, in an attempt to broaden their contact, make them closer because their bodies sung for any touch. His cold lips danced across hers, the sense of dabbling in forbidden passion like this driving him to the edge and pushing him completely over. He felt himself lose all awareness of his body and held her tightly, as if he was free falling.

She sunk against him, melting into his embrace, molding herself against him. She gripped his biceps tightly, attempting to stay upright when everything else seemed to be falling away around her. Her world spun incredibly fast, and even with all the slayer strength in the world, nothing compared to the strength of his kiss. The raw passion that burned from him, the desperation and the longing that were depicted in his touch swirled into a sweet cacophony of sensation and she longed to draw him closer, couldn't stand the thought of any part of her out of contact with him. She moaned in pleasure as his lips parted slowly, and the kiss deepened.

The soft sounds of want emitting from her urged him boldly on. His tongue traced hers, and the heat of her body pushing so readily against his was melting his insides. He let out a soft growl of want, and his hands tangled into her hair, needing her closer, nearer, more. The intensity made him feel as if he was drowning in her, and he was perfectly fine with the thought of it. They were fire and ice, burning and freezing each other to the core, neither submitting, but instead joining to find middle ground, coming together to form something balanced and just as powerful.

Buffy's heart hammered so eagerly in her chest that she was afraid she would pass out. The need for air registered as insignificant in comparison to being held like this in Spike's arms. She wanted to kiss him forever; she ached for him to never stop touching her. His tongue danced with hers fiercely and she felt her hands moving of their own accord from his arms, exploring up his back, to his neck, his hair.

She slipped her fingers through the platinum curls aligned in glorious disarray on his head and entwined them in her hands, holding on for dear life. To the very last second possible, she waited, until her lungs protested and she drew back scant millimeters, gasping for air, her cheek pressed against his. Her eyes studied him intensely, and the jolt of pure ecstasy merely looking at him evoked the realization that she was beyond intoxicated with this man; she was madly, irreversibly, undeniably, incredibly in love.

Spike found himself drawing shuddering breaths to calm himself when she broke from him, feeling as though he'd lost an essential part of himself the moment the kiss ended. He opened his eyes, half afraid that everything that had just transpired would fade into another dream if he did. But when he saw her leaning against him, clutching him desperately and staring at him with eyes smoky with desire, he smiled. He placed his hand on her face, finger brushing her lips in disbelief. These lips had kissed him. These lips had kissed him, and told him that they loved him. He was mesmerized by the mere thought of it all.

Buffy found looked into his normally sky blue eyes, and found a spark of sapphire as they danced with the heat and emotion she had brought out in him. She never dreamed herself capable of doing that to a man, yet here he was. Completely, irrevocably in love with her. She leaned into the hand he'd placed against her face and pressed a kiss to each of his black-nailed fingertips, lips forming a smile as he traced them reverently.

That had been a first kiss. A real first kiss, with the intensity of a typhoon and desperation that sang like the wind after being tied and thrust back in the dark for so many months. It had been wild and raw, and one of the most beautiful things she'd ever experienced. What she longed for now however, was a simple kiss from the man she loved. She giggled softly as he brushed her cheek, that purring sound emitting from his throat again. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and leaned inward, to better hear him. "Have I ever told you how much I love that?"

He smiled now, the most soulful, most heart wrenchingly tender smile she'd ever seen. It was almost a sheepish, timid in its shyness. He brushed his lips against hers softly, relishing in the feel of her; the scent of her; the sound of her rapid heartbeat, pounding against his chest. "Can't seem to control myself when I'm around you," he admitted. "Can't stop doin' it, can't get a grip on myself. Just happens," he murmured.

She kissed him gently, hands still wrapped in his hair. She rested her forehead on his and smiled her own, slightly abashed smile. "You make me feel so alive," she admitted softly.

"Me? I make YOU, feel alive?" Spike whispered, his voice deep and husky, disbelieving in its sincere confusion. "Pet... It's you that makes me wanna feel alive." He thumbed her cheek affectionately. "Makes me want to live just to be with you. Never want to stop touching you…"

She smiled tenderly. "Good, cuz alive is good. Being with me, of the good. Touching me, even better. Kissing me again, even more better. Holding me waayy good, dancing with me, very sexy, and feeling you close..." she paused, with her head cocked to the side. "You want me to continue?"

Spike growled softly with emotion. He dived in fiercely towards her lips again, but to Buffy's shock, found contact with a tender, soft touch a vampire shouldn't possess. He kissed her gently. There was a tenderness in his touch that she'd never felt with anyone else before. This kiss was one of those heart stopping, movie ending, credits rolling, happily ever after kisses. It was perfect.

The world around her faded to a dull murmur, and her thoughts dissipated into just the sensation of touching him. For Buffy, there was only the feel of Spike's lips against hers, the sweetness and the fire from their contact the ultimate culmination of perhaps one of the longest, strangest courtships of all time. But it was right for them.

Inside both Buffy and Spike there was a spark, igniting what they both knew was something great. Something bigger than the both of them, something messy and fearsome but at the same time, the most beautiful thing either had ever felt. Here it was. The beginning of something great. The end of everything that no longer mattered. He was Spike, and she was Buffy, and this was where each of them belonged. Spike took a moment to look at her, ending their cavalcade of sweet kisses once more, his cobalt eyes questioning her.

"What is it?" she asked, lips swollen form his ministrations and still longing for more.

He cocked his head to the side, the way he so often did when he was amused or studying something. He gave a sideways smile, taking her in. It was all too much to believe. "I wanna look at you."

"Okay…" she chuckled softly, turning red.

"I wanna see you're face," he admitted, voice suddenly tightening up as he debated within himself over whether to continue or not.

She eyed him, slightly worried.

He let out an unneeded breath, and with that, some of his fear. "I wanna see your face when I tell you again, and it actually means somethin' to you, luv..."he clarified, smiling self depreciatingly at his nervousness. She never thought he was more adorable than right now. "Buffy, I love you... with everythin' inside me, good and bad. I love you with all I want to be for you, pet. I love you for every breath I imitate, for every beat my heart misses, and for every time yours beats for me." He paused. "I love you, I exist for you."

The purity of his words, uncensored and unscreened, flowing from him without restriction hit a chord within her. She physically shook with the magnitude of his revelation. She couldn't quite hide the tears in her eyes, and after a minute, decided it wasn't even worth it to try. What this man did for her was more human than any person she'd come across in her lifetime. He changed his entire world, flipped upside down and backwards for her, and did it with, or without, her love in return.

Well there'd be no more of that. No. She smiled up at him, with a reassurance that had never existed before her time with him. "I love you too, Spike…" There, she'd said it. And meant it. And it might just have been one of the easiest things she'd ever had to do.

He pulled her close, hugging her tightly. He'd go on like this for all his unnatural life if

it meant having her. It was worth it. Why have one good day, when you can have thousands??

She buried her head in the nook of his neck, pressing her lips to his cool skin in a gesture that was so intimately familiar she wondered if she hadn't done it a thousand times before. This was better than heaven, better than the peace she'd thought she'd found after she'd died. This was the sort of love that kept one tied to the earth, something really worth living for. She snuggled close to him, and promised herself that she would never let him go, because this was better than anything on heaven or earth. Better than anything she'd ever known. And it was just starting.

As Buffy danced in Spike arms that night, and as Angel and company headed back towards LA without a backwards glance, a new story began. It slid into place where the old, dusty volume scrawled with "Buffy and Angel" on the cover had sat before, and with new life, a new fervor and shine that the old volume no longer possessed, it opened to the first page. The first of many to follow. The older book was shelved gently to the side along with many, many others, to be stored and reopened from time to time upon any feeling of nostalgia, but never to be revised. The new book stretched a firm spine and strong, straight pages, eagerly receiving the name to which it belonged to the page: "Buffy and Spike." And thus began its story.