A/N: This is an idea I got the other day listening to the Elvis Top 30s CD. So many of the songs screamed out Buffy and Spike and I felt compelled to do something about it. It will be similar to my Do What You Have to Do fic; more character piece than plot. Actually, this fic will expand over several years, taking snapshots of the characters lives. This will be a medium length fic, approximately 15 chapters or so and each chapter will be named after an Elvis song (or famous line from an Elvis song). Most of the chapters will have the song lyrics to them; sometimes they will be changed (when Buffy or Spike is singing the song) to fit our characters. This fic, for the most part, it will be very light and fluffy. There will be a handful of chapters (including the first two) that will be heavy on the angst, but after that, it’s gonna be fun. I think our Spuffy needs to have fun, don’t you?

Spoilers: Some rumored spoilers from the last five episodes but for the most part will be Post-Season 7.

Disclaimer: All characters are Joss’s and yada, yada, yada. You know the drill. And none of the lyrics are mine, either.

Rating: R, just to be on the safe side.

He never hid from the reality that it would happen. Why fight what was inevitable? Still, knowing something and experiencing it were on two opposite ends of the bloody spectrum. He had tried his damnedest to keep hope from springing forth at the subtle niceties Buffy graced him with, the pleasant changes in their relationship. Of course, he had failed miserably in that department; but he couldn’t be blamed. He had volunteered to leave this god-forsaken town and what did she do? 'I'm not ready to not have you here', followed by those incredibly beautiful doe eyes of hers glancing his way. That admission was enough to crumble the foundations from his decision not to hope and he had become the same lovesick ponce-albeit not as obvious this time-as he used to be.

"Should've left like the rest of 'em," he said and eyed the amber liquid that sloshed back and forth in the tiny shot glass. There was no doubt that if he had left then that things would have been easier for him. 'Course, there was that tiny ordeal with the First she had needed him for.

"Didn’t need me for that, now did she?" he muttered and gulped down the liquor, thankful for the distracting burn as it slithered down his throat. He had already downed a bottle of Yagermeister and was halfway through a bottle of Tequila but the bitterness remained. In fact, everything that had happened over the past week and a half seemed to magnify, coming into focus with supernatural precision-which wasn’t bloody right at all, considering that alcohol was supposed to make you forget. And here he was, his mind still reeling from what he had seen twelve days ago, right after the most meaningful night of his life.

The words sung by the less than attractive Kralic demon burrowed into the haze of bitter consciousness that Spike still maintained. His eyes scanned the crowd and he shook his head in horror, noticing for the first time that the majority of the patrons were dressed in Elvis garb. God, he couldn’t get away from poofters and Nancy-boys…er, demons, if he tried. He had come here because, for once, he didn’t desire violence to lift his black mood and this Caritas was supposed to be the place for that. The blighters wove to and fro, cheering the Kralic-whom, if Spike was honest, didn’t have that bad of a voice. In fact…

It was then that the words hit him. All humor and disgust drained from his face, replaced by an irrevocable sadness.

His gaze fell to the floor, studying the scuffs along his Doc Martens. This was a demon bar and there was no bloody way he was going to let it get out that William the Bloody was a ponce who cried. Oh, yeah, he didn’t deny that the sting that pilfered his retinas and the hazy film that blurred his vision were tears; he had moved past lying to himself. But that didn’t mean that he had to let everyone else in on that secret.

As the song ended and the applause reverberated through the room, Spike sensed a presence beside him. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and stared at whoever had the stones to invade his privacy. He was taken aback at the sight that greeted him.

"Hey, Sugar Cakes," the green-skinned demon said and smiled, blinding Spike with the brightest set of pearly whites the vampire had ever seen. Aside from that, the only other thing about the demon that stood out was…well, everything.

The stubby horns and crimson eyes were not particularly prominent-but the sodding suit that he was decked out in screamed out for attention. It was the babiest of bloody blues that the vampire had ever seen and had a tie to match. The plaid shirt-and who, by the way, still wore that aside from lumberjacks?-was diametrically opposite. It was an interesting mixture of black, purple and, what the bloody hell?-gold flyway collars. It hurt the vampire’s eyes to stare at the ensemble too long, so he turned his attention to the argument on stage. Evidently the next performer wanted to sing a Capella-something his buddies seemed to oppose vehemently.

Spike poured himself another glass of Tequila, intent on ignoring the demon to his left. He scrutinized the liquid through the thick glass before downing it and slamming the glass to the table. When he looked up the demon was gone and Spike sighed in relief…until he turned around and came face-to-face with the demon.

"Feel free to join me," the vampire said and rolled his eyes. "I was only ignoring you so you’d take it upon yourself to pull up a chair."

"Whoa now, Super Cheeks," the demon said and raised his hands in peace. "Me no enemy. Me friend."

Spike’s mood darkened even more at the demon’s amiable tone. "Vampire, mate. Don’t got any friends." Though he tried to go for disinterested and menacing, Spike heard the sadness that tinged his words.

The demon smiled and crossed his legs. He regarded Spike for a minute in a way that unnerved the vampire. It was something about the other demon’s eyes that weren’t quite right…as if they were looking straight through to Spike’s…

"Wow," the demon said and whistled. "And here I thought Angel Baby was the sole recipient of that little gift." Spike frowned at the demon and his casual repose melted into battle ready tension. The other demon saw the change in Spike’s demeanor and laid a hand on the vampire’s forearm.

"I come in peace, my blue-eyed Adonis." Spike glanced at the demon’s hand on his arm and back up to the bloodshot eyes. The demon got the message and raised his hands as a peace offering. "Sorry. I’ll remember to not make with the touching again."

" ‘S good strategy to ‘ave. Great ‘ealth plan too."

"Health plan?"

Spike chuckled. "Yeah. Guarantees you not to be dismembered by one pissed off vampire. Quite a perk, wouldn’t you say."

"Angel told me you were one with the hostility but I never thought that you’d be able to match Mr. Brood-tacular with the sulking." Spike gave the demon a warning growl and though he had originally come here to avoid trouble, he wouldn’t back away from it.

"If I were you, mate, I’d forget you ever saw me, mosey on over to that both over there where that Kralic demon is obviously waiting for you and get back on with my life."

"I would do that, Spike if you weren’t screaming to be heard."

"What the bloody ‘ell are you yammerin’ about?"

The demon stuck up his hand and Spike systematically ignored it. It didn’t dapper the demon’s disposition in the least. "Not Zen with the contact, huh? Anyway, the name’s Lorne, and I’m the owner of this humble abode."

"Bully for you. Wha’s that gotta do with harrassin’ the customers?"

"Well, it’s quite simple really. I read auras."

Spike chuckled. He glanced back at the Kralic demon who anxiously wrung his hands then back to this Lorne character. "Through Karaoke?"

"Well…"

"You have to be bloody well kiddin’ me!" Spike shouted and was greeted by several menacing glares.

"Hey, Buddy," the demon on stage said, "could you tone it down. I’m trying to get in the mood up here."

"Sod off," the Brit replied and scowled at Lorne's amused expression.

"Mr. Hostility back at it again. What gigantic Bezeor burrowed its way into your tush?" On Spike’s befuddled, and obviously, unamused look, Lorne shook his head. "All right, bad joke. Getting back to my point, yeah, I do read auras through singing. Kinda amazing for someone from a music-less dimension, huh?"

"What?"

"Forget I mentioned it. But that’s not the only way for me to read you. Singing makes it clearer but if there’s enough pain involved, it calls to me nonetheless. Like with you." He leaned closer towards the vampire as if he were about the part wisdom of the ages and when Lorne spoke, his voice was a scant whisper although the vampire could here it clearly enough. "She was here the other day, looking for you."

A pained expression crossed Spike’s face and he had to fight with everything he had not to jump across the table and rip the truth from Lorne's chest, sanctuary spell be damned. "She was now?" he asked with a weary indifference. "Mind tellin’ me who you’re goin’ on about, mate, cause, I know a lot of ‘she’s’."

"Yeah, but only one is Chosen, isn't that right?"

Spike shrugged and returned his attention back towards the stage. The soon-to-be performer had just finished discussing the particulars of the performance and now, with mic in hand, he was about to begin.

"You won’t wanna miss this solo. Gets ‘em every time," Lorne whispered conspiratorially across the table. "Take a gander and I’ll be right back."

"Take your time," Spike replied. Bloody wankers, he thought, never know how to leave a bloke be.

He would have continued the rant were it not for the song that blindsided him as soon as the first note was sung.

Buffy. Even if he tried, nothing could remove the image forever burned into his mind of his slayer as she slept next to him. Her petite form had fit perfectly against his side. The dream to hold her so intimately had never died though the realistic expectations had long ago and when she had come to him with tears in her eyes, Spike half expected himself to wake up. But it was no dream. It was as real as the love he carried for her that suffused through his entire being.

He had observed her the entire night, getting no more than an hour of sleep. During that time he had wondered what it was like for her, what her dreams were like. Was he ever in them? Did she ever smile thinking about him, about what they could be?

Those thoughts had died when he thought about the pressure that was on her. Though he didn’t understand everything that had happened, evidently she had been ostracized by her friends, blamed herself for a potential's death and still hadn't found a way to defeat the First. No, he had no illusions that she was here for comfort; not out of love, not out of desire or devotion. Comfort. Plain and simple.

Spike ignored the raspy deliverance of the spoken dialogue and was instead transfixed by the words that spelled out exactly what he felt.

He saw Buffy, dancing in the Bronze with her friends that first night he breezed into town. The scent of fear at his declaration to kill her was invigorating. But that same scent had vanished when they fought, transformed into a lust for the fight, for the dance they had done so well.

Her change had started during Joyce's illness. There were times that she had treated him like a man, like part of the group. And before she died, they were so close to…But it didn’t matter because it all changed when she returned. They had almost been friends before--before everything was wrecked.

He wasn’t that bloody stupid. She'd never said what they had was love. Needing and loving were two different things. He had been needed for the apocalypse and as a shoulder to cry on--no more, no less. She did care for him, that much he knew, but it wasn't love. Still, there were times when he imagined that it would be; that she would see the change in him enough to love him. If he hadn't seen her with the Poof, he would have continued to lie to himself until he was dust covering the bloody ground. Now…

Oh the soddin curtain was down, all right. It had lowered and chopped him in two. Seeing her and Angel together--he thought nothing could ever hurt as much as seeing the fear and loathing in her eyes after he had tried to...God, how wrong he was. Even now, after nearly a fortnight the pain had not lessened. In fact, each passing day had seen it increase, filling him with the realization that nothing he did would ever be enough for anyone.

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

As the cheers filled Caritas, Spike rubbed at his eyes, noticing for the first time the tears that he had shed. He turned towards Lorne--who had reappeared by his side--and saw the sympathy in the other demon's eyes. He wanted to feel anger at being pitied but the gash that bled his soul would not allow it. No matter what he tried to do, no matter what he tried to think of, all he could see was Buffy kissing Angel. And despite her change in attitude over the past few months, all he could hear were her words the night they had broken their tenuous friendship last year.

"I was just convenient," he said. He stared at Lorne's blurry image before it got to be too much. "I…I can't stay here. I…" Words failed him and walked past the demon.

"Spike, wait," Lorne said and grabbed the vampire's hand. He stopped but didn’t turn his head towards the other demon. "Where're ya goin'?"

"Anywhere but here."

"Sweetie, listen to me. You can't always trust your eyes. Sometimes you see things and what you see may not be what's really going on."

Spike chuckled humorlessly. "You're right, you know. Two soul mates snoggin' out in the middle of the good old outdoors isn't really that, is it? That's the way they say 'hello', innit?"

Lorne sighed and Spike saw the sadness in his eyes. The vampire wasn’t sure if it made things easier or harder but he wasn’t going to stay around to find out.

"'S what I thought. Look mate, thanks for the shoulder but the Big Bad don’t need one to cry on." He'd like to do that in silence. Yep, have himself a good cry, maybe kill something beforehand.

"Look, Kid…"

Spike whirled around and pinned Lorne with furious blue eyes. "No, you listen. Give. It. Up. I can't be saved, understand? Givin' up? Too late. Already 'ave. She was right all along. I'm nothing but convenient, you hear? Yeah, I may still do good but never here. Once I leave this god forsaken place, this soddin' state, I will never set foot in it again. Ever. Nothing can make me come back and nothing sure as hell can make me stay."

Lorne broke the gaze and peered over Spike's shoulder. His morose features dissipated and Spike was taken aback at the return of the supernova smile. Lorne released Spike's hand and readjusted his suit. He patted Spike on the shoulder and said, "You sure about that?"

Spike watched the strange demon saunter towards the stage. The platinum blonde shook his head in confusion and turned back towards the exit…

And had the wind knocked out of his undead lungs.

She was five feet away and he hadn't even sensed her. She stood there, hazel eyes glistening in the dim lights and hair hanging like a curtain past her shoulders in that way he loved. Her white blouse hung tightly across her breasts and the black leather skirt clung to her small hips.

She was beautiful.

"Spike." Her voice thrust Spike out of his stupor and he took two steps closer, the buzz from the alcohol suspended by her very presence. He was close enough to touch her, to smell the vanilla scent of her lotion and the fragrance underneath that was all Buffy.

But it couldn’t be her. Why would she come to him? How would she even know where to look? No, it had to be an illusion. It had to be--and there was only one way to find out.

He lifted his arm to her face, unable to steady his trembling limb. He was so close to her that the heat from her flesh burned his hand. Her eyes never wavered and the hazel jewels sparkled even more when he made contact with her skin. She leaned into the touch and exhaled. The simple action was almost too much for the vampire and he let out a hysterical chuckle.

"Yes, Spike," she said and mimicked his gesture. The warmth of her hand coaxed the suspended tears from his eyes and the next thing he knew, Spike was on his knees and in the arms of his slayer.

He didn’t know what the hell was going on but he wouldn’t take this for granted ever again.

Especially since this was the last time he would ever hold her.

TBC in Chapter 2: Fools Rush In…

Chapter 2

They stared at one another across the table for several minutes. Despite the noise surrounding them, the two former lovers, slayer and vampire, were trapped in their personal bubble of silence. The tension pushed and pulled at them as they fumbled over what to say in vain. Buffy smiled to herself at the thought of what they must look like to the casual observer; two teenagers on a first date, praying desperately to say the right thing and not sound like a moronic bore. Well, someone has to go first; might as well be me.

"So," she said, and concentrated on her wringing hands. She knew her actions gave away the nervousness that beat across every cell but it didn’t matter, not when your companion was a vampire; her heartbeat was running its own personal marathon and every breath she took made her feel as if the oxygen was being siphoned from her lungs.

"So how have you been?" she asked and mentally smacked herself for the idiotic question that was delivered in that an overtly chipper tone of false exuberance. She winced at Spike’s agitated glare but was somewhat relieved at that familiar show of emotion. Moody and sullen Spike she could deal with but teary Spike-well, that was a whole other story.

"Wayne Newton over there said you were lookin’ for me the other day," he said, nodding towards Lorne. "Why? And how did you know I was here?"

Spike’s venomous tone startled Buffy but she kept her face cheerful. It was an effort in and of itself as she was reminded of the last real talk they had had two weeks ago.

She forced the memory away, not wanting to feel the guilt of what had happened with Angel immediately following her and Spike’s heart-to-heart. The only good thing about it was that Spike hadn’t seen the two of them together.

"Gonna answer me anytime soon, Slayer?"

"I, uh, I mean…" she stumbled over her words, cursing her thoughts failure to recognize the need for order. She wanted to say so much, ask him so many things; yet she was clueless in where to start. "Why did you leave?" Well, two points for succinctness, bonus for the smooth evasion of questions one and two.

Spike chuckled humorlessly and Buffy recoiled when he stared at her, disdain coating his cerulean gaze. "Why did I leave? That’s a rich one, Slayer."

"What are you talking about? Was it because of what I said that night?"

"Don’t know what you mean, luv," he said, and somehow made the term sound dirty and Buffy cringed, her mind replacing the once affectionate nickname with bitch or slut which, from the contempt in his eyes, was exactly how it meant it.

"You never even said goodbye." She tried to go for annoyed but even she recognized the sadness that tainted her words. Going by the slight flinch in his eyes, Spike had, too. His compassion was short-lived, however, quickly replaced by inexorable pain and anger.

"Oh, you're right, Slayer, I should 'ave said goodbye. But you know what? I was tryin' to be considerate. Didn’t want to interrupt you and the Poof durin' your oh so spectacular snoggin' session."

"Spike--what are you talking about?" He couldn’t know, could he?

"Don’t lie to me, Buffy. You’ve done enough of that already."

"I--"

"Don’t!" He slammed his fist into the table and Buffy jumped back in surprise. Several patrons turned towards the duo but the stares went unnoticed.

He knew. She didn’t know how, or when, but he knew.

"I saw you," he said, confirming her suspicions, "both of you." Buffy could only stare at him in shock. The guilt that she thought gone slammed into her stomach, knocking the wind and any type of reply from her. She shook her head, dumbfounded, willing her mind to form a single thought before the silence caused Spike to implode. Too late, she thought as he opened his mouth and Buffy tensed for the words that would undoubtedly cut her with surgical precision.

"Why did you do it, Buffy?" he asked and the softness of his voice stunned her. "Do you still love him, still wanna be with him? Did you just want me around so you wouldn’t be alone? Was that why you weren't ready for me to not be here? Was that why you said that night didn’t have to mean anything?"

So many questions to answer, so many directions this conversation could go, most of them down into the land of much badness. Buffy's eyes, for the most part, concentrated on the thick shot glass, every so often stealing glances at Spike's emotionally overloaded eyes. She refused to maintain contact, afraid that, at any moment, he would burst into tears. And that was something Buffy definitely couldn’t handle.

"You're wrong, Spike," she said, surprising herself with the confidence of her tone.

"About what?"

"About everything."

"So, mine eyes did deceive me? I didn’t see you and Angel havin' yourselves quite the snogfest?"

"No, that did happen."

"So tell me, oh Chosen One, what exactly was it that I was wrong about?"

"That I asked you to stay just because I didn’t want to be alone. That that night together didn’t mean anything. You are so wrong," she said. She felt the tears only after Spike's eyes widened, the liquid hurt burning down her cheeks. His features softened and Buffy's resolve began to unravel. But she refused to give up; Spike needed to know this, she needed to hear it herself. And there was only one way for that to happen.

"When the First had you, I was so scared. Not only was I getting my ass kicked by Count Ugula and babysitting for a bunch of teenage hormone bombs, I was missing the one thing, the one person that tethered me to the ground all last year when the only thing I wanted to do was float away. I cried into my pillow every night, you know. I never told anyone but I think Dawnie knew all along. I couldn’t sleep, could barely eat and when I did it didn’t always stay down. I was a wreck and it was only a matter of time before I cracked.

"But then I found you and everything started to fall back into place. It hurt me so bad, what I said to you in front of everyone the night Chloe died, but I had to do it. I had to have you at your best. And it wasn’t just for the fight but for me. Of course, I didn’t realize that until that night."

"What do you mean by that?"

Buffy risked a glance and was relieved that the anger had drained from Spike's face. She sighed and decided to take a chance, pulling his immaculate fingers into her hand. "I mean that…I need what you give me, Spike. Strength. Honesty. Support. Acceptance. Love."

"Angel can give you those, even with the jerry-rigged soul."

"No one can give me all those things. And even if they could, I wouldn’t care. Not if it wasn’t you." Spike blinked incredulously at her and Buffy knew things were moving way too fast. But she didn’t have a choice. She had to get it all out now before she clammed-up per her usual.

"But Angel…"

"It was a mistake, Spike. A huge, unbelievably stupid, ‘Buffy-is-a-dunce’ mistake." She giggled mirthlessly. "I'm taking it that you didn’t see the aftermath of the kiss where I pushed him away."

" 'fraid not," Spike admitted. "Guess I was too busy keepin' my guts from spilling onto the ground."

"Spike, I'm so sorry…"

"Don’t, Buffy. Don’t apologize if you're just gonna tear the bleedin' stitches out."

"Have you been listening to anything I've been saying?"

"I hear you, Slayer, but you 'aven't said anything I 'aven't heard before." Okay, that was so not true and Buffy had the fleeting desire to do just that--flee. But she couldn’t, she had to let everything out on the table.

Determination possessed her and Buffy knew there was only one way to get him to listen. She stood and walked away from the table, patting Spike on the shoulder when he frowned. She pulled Lorne to the side and peeked at Spike while talking to green-skinned demon. Were it not for the desperation of their predicament, she would have laughed at his confused stare. Instead, she followed Lorne to the stage, grabbing the mic when he offered.

"Hey," she said, and her body was rigid with self-consciousness. She wasn’t worried about the demons that glared at her, some with contempt or fear, others in mild fascination; her biggest concern was the platinum blonde vampire whose gaze pierced her very soul. All of the sudden, other parts of her started to tense, but this time not in a bad way.

"Umm, I've never really done the singing thing before…well, that's not quite true. See there was this dancing demon that came to town last year. His name was Sweet and…" she trailed off at their bewildered stares. She sighed and said, "It was a thing, you had to be there. Anyway, I've never purposely sung…so don’t be too mean, okay? This song is dedicated to someone very special to me but he's just too stubborn to realize just how much he does mean to me. Of course, part of that's my fault what with my hot/cold routine. Evidently I have this thing where I get his motor revving and crown myself the Ice Queen." More incredulous stares. "The point is that I plan to change all that right now, with a little help from Mr. Presley."

Buffy nodded to the band and inhaled deeply as the first note from the guitar crackled through the air. Dozens of eyes were trained on her but her gaze was fixated on the azure jewels that sparkled in the low light. He was the only one that mattered and she was going to show him just how much he did.

The look on Spike's face was something she would never forget. Although she hadn't imagined telling him in such a venue, she knew this declaration in front of everyone (even if they were demons) would get through to him that she did love him.

She had been so close to telling him that night they had spent together, Spike's arms wrapped protectively around her. She had never felt such security her entire life and when the day had come, she wanted nothing more than to remain in his arms. But she had to leave and when he confronted her about it, she had given him the typical Buffy denial response.

Buffy was terrified that she had been too late, that kissing Angel was the last straw and Spike would cast her off. At one time she would never have doubted that he would accept her but now…

The first wave of panic hit her at the thought of losing Spike forever. Tears pooled in her eyes as her mind conjured the image that could possibly be their final goodbye. His eyes sad but resolved, not giving into her pleading wails…No, she couldn’t lose him, not after…not after everything.

There it was. Buffy laid everything on the line. She finally knew what she wanted and hoped that Spike still wanted her. He was her anchor; her fortress of solitude, protecting her from the inundation of pain and loss that pervaded her existence. He had no idea how important he was to her, how he had indeed saved her in so many ways. It was high time he understood.

After the last words left her mouth, Buffy lowered her eyes from Spike's face for the first time since she was on stage. She looked up when the crowd exploded into cheers. Buffy's cheeks flushed at the ovation and she chanced a look at Spike.

He wasn’t there.

Buffy's face crashed to the floor and the resounding collapse in the distance was her heart splintering. Everyone else was oblivious to her breaking spirit and Buffy tried her best to cater to their applause, plastering a false smile in place before gracing the crowd with a curtsy. The demons howled at that but the slayer tuned it out. All she wanted to do was get off stage and go back to the Hyperion where she could hide in her room until it was time for her to leave.

"May I?" The suave voice startled Buffy out of her misery and she looked down to see an awestruck Spike smirking at her. Buffy opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Spike offered his hand to her and she accepted. He guided her to the floor and intertwined his fingers with hers.

"You all right, luv?" Spike's finger caressed Buffy's cheek and she blinked for the first time since he helped her off stage. "Buffy?"

"You were gone." Her voice was the barest of whispers and she would have lowered her head if his hand didn’t prop her chin up. "When I finished, you were gone. I thought--I thought you left me…"

Spike gave Buffy a rare smile devoid of snarkiness and her heart fluttered. She stared into his too blue eyes and felt herself floating away, desperate to get lost in him.

"You thought I left you?" She nodded, ashamed at her admission. "You honestly think I would leave after what you just did, what you just sang?"

"But at the table-"

"But at the table what, pet?"

"You sounded like you didn’t want me anymore." When she closed her eyes the tears she had held back for the last few minutes broke from their prison and fled down her cheeks. She didn’t want to look at Spike, at the reproachful glare that he would probably give her but she refused to run away anymore. Whatever it was that was going to happen between them depended on her being able to face her fears head-on. And if she had to be reprimanded by Spike to start off, then so be it.

When Buffy finally looked back at Spike she gasped at the sight before her. His blue eyes were flooded with tears although there was no sadness in them. Her eyebrows crashed together in confusion and Spike laughed. Now that was definitely not what she expected.

"Buffy," he said, after calming down, "I'm not going anywhere." Although the smile remained, his tone and the steel gaze of his eyes communicated his determination. Buffy nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say. Her mind was filled with thoughts and the splinters that threatened to rip her chest in half were slowly mending, not quite able to believe what was happening.

"You didn’t think I wanted you, did you?" Buffy lowered her eyes in shame. "You came all the way here to look for me with the belief that I would turn you down." Buffy craned her neck to look at him, her lip set in a defiant pout at his unbelieving tone.

"You did leave without even telling me…"

"Because I thought…"

"…and it's not like I blame you…"

"…you and the Poof…" he trailed off as his mind processed what she had just said. "What do you mean by that?"

"I wouldn’t blame you for leaving." Buffy hated how her voice fell squeaked but she couldn’t help it, her emotions were throwing the biggest hissy fit of all-time. "I drive everybody away, either because I'm too needy, or not needy enough. Or, in your case, just a complete bitch that runs away anytime things get serious." She pulled her hand from his and walked over to the corner. He followed without comment.

She sat down on a stool off to side, leaving just enough room for Spike to join her. His arm fell across her lower back and she leaned into his touch, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know you probably don’t wanna hear it but my luck with men-romantic or otherwise-just plain sucks."

"That’s not-" Buffy interrupted him with a wilting glance and Spike relented. "Okay, so that may be true," he admitted with a depreciating grin, "but that doesn’t mean that you have to go by that."

"How can I not? I’ve never had an experience with a guy that didn’t turn out bad. Even Xander hates me now."

"Don’t be daft, pet, the whelp could never hate you."

"You think? Then ask me why he hasn’t spoken to me in complete sentences ever since he lost…" she trailed off and her shoulders sagged. The last two weeks had made Buffy realize that she had thought of Xander and Spike in the same vein. It was something she wouldn’t dare impart to either party, knowing the outrage that her little confession would produce. Still, that didn’t stop her from thinking it.

Like Willow and, of course, Spike, Xander was Buffy’s rock. Over the years she had wished that he and Willow bid adieu to the Hellmouth but knew they never would. In effect, she had never thought that anything would ever come between him and her. Last year, after putting the entire Buffy/Spike/Anya incident behind them, the slayer was more confident than ever in her belief that Xander would forever be a mainstay in her life. But after what Caleb had done to him, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

"He blames me, you know." Her voice was a shell of its normal, vibrant self. "If I would have listened to you and Giles, hell, even Faith, Molly wouldn’t have died and Xander wouldn’t have lost his eye. It’s my fault." Buffy wanted to cry but the tears refused to come. She felt Spike’s arm pull her closer and she sighed in content, despite the demons of guilt that still tore at her insides.

"Xander doesn’t hate you, Buffy, and he sure as ‘ell shouldn’t blame you. No one said he ‘ad to go stomping along with us to the cave. That was his choice, Slayer. His choice and his alone. He knows that and, if he wants to blame anyone for what ‘appened, he needs to blame that sod Caleb." Logically, she knew he spoke the truth but the part of her that took responsibility for others’ safety had crossed over to the side of irrational long ago. And though it wasn’t all negative, the lingering effects of culpability when she couldn’t save someone always wore her down a little more.

"And as for Molly, whose to say she wouldn’t ‘ave died during the fight?" The hitch in his voice was unmistakable. In the short months of being around the Potentials, he had become fond of a handful of them although the way he looked at Molly, Rona and even Vi sometimes, reminded Buffy of the way he looked at Dawn when no one was watching. He had been devastated when Caleb had murdered Molly and the subsequent fury he had unleashed allowed them to escape. She had heard him crying in the basement two nights later but had been terrified to comfort him, knowing that she would have done anything at all to eliminate his grief.

"Point is, Buffy, you can't save everyone. Doesn’t mean you don’t try."

"He's right, Sweetums," Lorne said, and grabbed a stool to sit in front of them, "Chosen One or no, as much mojo as you've got Goldilocks, you can't possibly blame yourself for everything that happens."

"Listen to the Green Machine, luv," Spike said, "he 'as more pet names for a bloke than I ever 'ad. Pretty good advice, too."

"Make sure you practice what your praise preaches," Lorne said, and turned crimson eyes to Spike. "You're gonna have to deep six all that insecurity buried inside of you. This girl loves you, I mean really, really loves you. I'm talking about end of the world, scary forever type of love. You're number one in her heart now."

Both slayer and vampire gaped at Lorne before turning to one another. Buffy saw it in Spike's eyes; everything she had put into the song had paid off. He believed. That didn’t mean there wasn’t terror in his eyes.

"Remember, children, the basis for any relationship is trust; trust and honesty. And judging from the vibes coming from the two of you, you still have a ways to go with that. But the love, let's just say if I didn’t believe in soul mates before tonight, I would now." Lorne put a hand on each of their knees and he waited until he had their full attention. "You two have something special, something that no one I have ever read has had--not even you and Angel Cakes had something this strong and real, Buffy. It's gonna be scary and, at times seem impossible, but if you believe in each other even a fraction as much as I think you do, everything will be just peachy."

Lorne stood and adjusted his suit. He tipped his head and walked away but not before throwing over his shoulder, "Take care of each other, like you always have and everything'll work out."

The watched Lorne disappear into the crowd before turning back to each other. Hazel eyes reflected off cerulean, and Buffy gasped at the intensity of Spike's gaze. Their eyes remained locked as they rose as one from the stool. Spike took her hands in his, dragging his thumbs across the tops of her hands. Time stood still for Buffy and her body gravitated towards him. His hands released Buffy's hands and traveled up her arms before falling to the side and encircling her waist. Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike's neck, her eyes still fixated on his face; one that reminded her of a seraphim-- beautiful and deadly. And he was hers.

No words were spoken as they swayed to a melody all their own. Their bodies were in perfect sync and moved impossibly closer. Buffy inhaled the scent that had permeated her dreams off and on since Spike first rolled into Sunnydale. Leather, blood, smoke and danger surrounded him, gave name to the original Big Bad. But there was something else that was greater than even that and it had been that way for some time but it had only been recently that Buffy had acknowledged it. Spike's love for her was greater than anything she had ever experienced and there were times when it was overwhelming to her. Even now, after declaring her love to him, there were parts of Buffy that was terrified of opening herself completely. But there these moments, moments like this, where she had no doubts, no fears--wrapped in Spike's arms like this, Buffy knew everything was going to be all right.

"Say it."

Buffy shook her head, clearing her mind of everything but what was in front of her. She smiled and graced his rueful lips with a kiss. "I love you," she said and wanted to melt at the smile that tinged his face.

"Say it again," he demanded and ground his burgeoning erection into her.

"What if I just showed you instead?" The heat that burned in his eyes spread to her and the intensity of the moment nearly overwhelmed her.

"Oh, you'll show me all right, my beautiful slayer, my wonderful minx." She shivered at the innuendo lacing the words. He nuzzled her neck, nipping at her skin with blunt teeth. A small gasp escaped her lips and Spike's chest rumbled in amused satisfaction.

"I think it's time we were one with the vamoosing," she said, her breaths coming in gasps.

"You don’t have to ask me twice, luv," he replied and drug her through the crowd of demons.

They ran through the streets, laughing and playing like adolescents. They ignored the glares of contempt and amused whispers that followed them into the night. There was no one else. There was no LA. It was just the two of them. Buffy and Spike. Two beings of immense power, capable of even greater love. They had once been sworn enemies, intent on killing the other. So good at what they did, it was a miracle that one hadn't gotten lucky at least once. It truly was.

Spike pushed Buffy against a building and slammed his mouth into her, searing her flesh with his desire. She pushed him away and, giving him a lascivious grin, bounded off into the night.

When she turned around, she saw him not too far behind, his face alit with joy; and that's when it hit her.

This had been the plan all along, for two people on opposite ends of the spectrum to fight through the obstacles that littered their paths, only to meet in the center of that dividing line. No, this was no miracle. This was divine intervention.

And as Spike caught her around the waist and spun her giggling form in a circle, Buffy couldn’t resist saying a silent prayer of gratitude for whoever had been responsible for this. Lorne had told them to take care of each other and Buffy knew that she and Spike would do just that. Still, she was thankful that Someone else was also watching over them. For as much as she loved Spike, as much as he loved her, this wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, she surmised that a relationship with Spike that didn’t conclude with a dusty ending, would be the hardest thing she had ever done.

She wouldn’t have had it any other way.