Chapter 5

The Bronze was packed for a Thursday night. High school and college kids lined the walls and brushed against one another on the dance floor, bumping and grinding as the music blared from the speakers with reckless mirth. Spike smiled as he inhaled the scents of inebriation and lust that wafted through the club. It was always like this; hormones and alcohol combined with loud and (more often than not) obnoxious music, was the perfect formula for getting down and dirty. At one time it was the ideal hunting ground. For decades he and Dru had stalked through clubs across the world, using their good looks and air of danger to lure unsuspecting victims out into the alleys or flats where they feasted on said victims blood and sex. And even when the chip had prevented him from biting anyone, for a time Spike had still used his charm on the fairer sex, often times taking a young co-ed against the alley wall. Even then sex could not fill the hollowness inside of him. It was a temporary fix to a bigger need. For so long he had thought it was the chip but it wasn't until he fell in love with Buffy--at least admitted it to himself--that the vampire realized that prowling the clubs had never been the same since that fateful night when he had seen Buffy, the lights reflecting off of her golden skin like some goddess of the sun.

Just as she did now.

Spike growled as he watched Buffy twist and gyrate to the music. He barely registered Willow, Kennedy and Dawn surrounding her, his eyes fixated on his mate.

She wore a hunter green oriental-style dress that clung to her curves with the voracity of his hands when they made love. It came to mid-thigh and the slit up one side only furthered the arousal filtering through his bones and he watched her dip and tuck, every so often giving him a minute peek of her matching green panties underneath. Her golden tresses rested atop her head and several curly bangs drizzled down her face, and bounced as her body was possessed by the beat. It took all of Spike's willpower not to ravage her right where she stood. Instead, he downed another shot of tequila, praying that it would deaden his arousal enough to accomplish what he had planned for her.

"She's beautiful, isn't she," said a voice next to him. Spike turned and saw Connor staring into the crowd of the four women, his face alit with appreciation.

"Watch it, mate," Spike warned, "that's my Buffy you're…" he sputtered to a stop when he saw Connor's gaze fixated on Dawn's lithe form. Spike allowed a smile to grace his features as he contemplated the young lo…the young couple. They had meet in LA when Dawn had gone to visit Angel her sophomore year of college. They had taken to each other instantly. For the last six years, they had been on again, off again, pushed apart by circumstances or their own stubbornness. But six months ago they had finally come together for good, and now lived in a posh flat on the other side of town. Since then they had been inseparable, and Spike couldn’t blame them. After their two-month separation last year, he and Buffy had become closer than he had ever thought possible. Rarely did they go a day without making love and when they did, well the day after was always filled with twice the exertion. If Connor and Dawn were the same way…

"Oy! That's my Nibblet you're gawking at, junior," Spike said. Connor turned to him and smiled that particularly annoying smile that reminded Spike of Angel but was oddly disarming.

"You know I love Dawn," Connor said, "just like you love Buffy."

"Yeah," the vampire admitted, "but that doesn’t mean I wanna even think about you two and yer…you know."

Connor smiled but sobered immediately. He picked at his fries before gathering the courage to look his 'uncle' in the eye. "Spike?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I…I want to marry her, but I…I don’t know how to ask." So lost in his own thoughts, Connor didn’t notice the incredulous look on Spike's face.

"She's everything I thought I'd never have, you know. She's smart, she's beautiful, funny and she can kick my ass, too."

The last part broke Spike from his haze and he offered the young man a gentle smile. "Know what you mean, mate. And for the record, wouldn’t want anyone else watchin' over my Nibblet."

Connor ducked his head. When he glanced up at Spike, the vampire saw the uncertainty in the other man's eyes. "But…but I have a hard time telling her I love her. It's like each time I'm saying it for the first time. If I can't do that, how am I going to ask her to marry me?"

Spike grinned conspiratorially and stood. He removed his duster and laid it across the stool. Walking over to Connor, he patted the young man on the shoulder. "Watch and learn, junior, watch and learn." And with that, Spike sauntered to the stage, finally ready to put his plans into motion.

~~~

He watched Buffy and the others laughing as they moved in time with the music. Her head swiveled from left to right, and he knew she was searching for him. Spike smiled and fingered the tiny object in his left pocket; he had already set things up before hand and now the band was only waiting for his signal to start. Spike waited patiently for the last song to end and when it did, he stepped onto center stage, microphone in hand.

'S now or never, he thought and cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him but he was only concerned with the hazel pair that stared at him in equal parts love, amusement, confusion and a twinge of 'he better not think about that' fear. The last part drew a smirk from him and Spike winked at Buffy before he addressed the crowd.

"Evenin' folks. 'M not one for speeches so I'll get to the point. Tonight's a special night for my lady. 'S her birthday tonight, ya see, and I wanted to do somethin' special for 'er, somethin' she'd never forget. Buffy," he said and hopped off the stage, unconscious of the crowd parting for him as he walked towards her, "c'mere, luv." He saw her hesitation and chuckled at the crimson flare along her cheeks and Willow and Dawn pushed her forward. She kept her eyes down and held out her hand when she reached him. Spike took it and kissed each knuckle before making eye contact.

"What are you doing?" she whispered fiercely.

"Buffy, luv," he said into the mic, "we've known each other for, what, thirteen long years, together for eight of those. In that time we've hated one another, hurt one another but, most of all, loved one another. Nothin's come easy for us and I doubt it ever will. Still, not once in our relationship, the one we have now or the one we had before, have I ever doubted where I wanted to be, even if I denied myself the truth. I've told you before, in over a hundred years, I've only been sure about one thing: you.

"You are beautiful, in mind, body and spirit. You are strength, hope and courage. You are the fire the burns within me, the personification of the passion that burns within us all. You are my 'eart and my soul. I love you more with each passin' day and I'm stuck on you…"

The sharp, easy sounds of the guitar cut through the monologue and Spike smirked as Buffy's eyes widened in realization. His well chosen words had made her forget about anything else but the two of them and now the mischievous glint in his eyes mortified her. He knew that she would have words for him after the night was over but, at the same time, he hoped that what he had in store for her would wipe all thoughts of embarrassment from her mind.

He pulled Buffy to him, reveling in her gasp as his erection made itself known.

"Stick because I'm
Stuck on you."

He moved behind her, and with deft precision, unclipped her hair, watching it flow over his fingers. He inhaled that gentle scent of vanilla that wafted from her throbbing body.

Spike grabbed Buffy by the waist and melted against her back. He ran his hand up and down her thigh, feeling even the tiniest of responses her body his proximity invoked.

Spike was barely aware of the crowd that surrounded them. He glanced up and caught the evil smiles from Dawn and Kennedy that screamed 'blackmail for the rest of our natural lives'. He returned the smile before turning his attention back to the shivering slayer in his arms.

"Hide in the kitchen, hide in the hall
Ain't gonna do you no good at all
'Cause once I catch ya and the kissin' starts
A team o' wild horses couldn't tear us apart."

He ran his tongue along her jaw and Buffy turned her head, no doubt intent on a kiss but Spike twirled effortlessly to the other side, his fingers sweeping across the curve of her hips and butt in the process. He stood in front or her and finally allowed himself the pleasure of dancing for his lady.

As he repeated the last two stanzas, Spike's hips took on a life of their own, grinding in time to the music and the undulations of Buffy's petite form. Her Hands found purchase on his hips and when her hazel eyes twinkled in that way, he knew she was up to something. And when her little fingers kneaded the denim that covered his ass, well, Spike was thankful that the song was ending.

He flung to microphone over his shoulder at the final note and claimed Buffy's lips as his own. Their hands roamed freely over one another, ignorant of the cheers and whistles that erupted for the crowd. When Buffy's hand skimmed over his left thigh, tracing the small bulge, Spike pulled away. Regardless of his need for oxygen, looking at Buffy, the way her eyes clouded over with desire or how her lips swelled after thoroughly being kissed, always took his breath away. She was more beautiful than the first day he'd seen her, even the first night they made love. She may have been thirty now but she looked no older than twenty-two. He'd bet that good genes and slayer healing were equally responsible for that.

Spike stepped away and his eyes swept across her entire form. She was immaculate, an angel sent from Heaven, and she was his. Time to make sure she knows just how much I love 'er.

"I love you," he said and beamed at the warmth of her smile.

"Love you, too," she said, and bit her lip. Her gaze traveled over the crowd surrounding them before returning to his face.

"We've been through so much the last eight years, living 'ere in love. I know 'm not the easiest bloke to love, to share your life with, undead habits notwithstanding. Still, you've always been there by my side as my friend, my lover, and my mate…" He closed his eyes and counted to three. Now or never, mate, he thought and dropped to one knee.

Buffy gasped when he dug into his pocket and pulled out the ring. When he looked up at her, he saw the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to wipe them away but he had one more thing to do first.

"I told you once that I knew what you were with perfect clarity and that still holds true. You're a helluva woman, Buffy Anne Summers. You are the One. The one girl in all the world, the one girl for me…for all time. I've already claimed you as my mate and even if you 'aven't said it, I know you want something else."

"Spike…"

"Buffy," he said, shushing her with the quirk of his lips, "I want to give you that something else, not just for you but for us. I want this as much as you do." He held her hand and slipped the ring partially onto her finger. His body thrummed in anticipation and Spike knew she saw the apprehension in his eyes. Her own fear comforted him and, taking a deep breath, Spike asked the words he had known Buffy had wanted to hear for some time.

"Buffy Summers, will you make me the luckiest man in this world and become my wife?" The atmosphere thickened as Spike awaited her response. Buffy opened her mouth several times before closing it and the nervousness that Spike felt tripled as he waited for her response. He had never thought of her saying 'no' but now…now he cursed himself for being so presumptuous…

"Of course I will," she said and Spike's doubts were incinerated by the joy written across her face. Without anymore preamble, Spike slipped the ring the rest of the way on and enveloped Buffy in his arms. He twirled her around, peppering her face with butterfly kisses and declaring words of love to her continuously.

As their lips met in a kiss that seared his soul, Spike thanked the gods for a happiness clause-free soul because, if it wasn't he would have lost it the first day she said she loved him and everyday after that. She was everything to him and more. She was his heart and soul, and Spike knew without a doubt that no matter how long he lived, there would never be another.

Spike smiled as he watched her bounce up and down, showing the others the ring. He barely acknowledged Dawn's arms wrap around him in a tight hug. All his thoughts were on Buffy and the pure joy that enveloped every part of her, joy that he had been responsible for. And for the first time Spike promised himself that when the time came for her to…to leave this place, he would not follow behind her. There was so much to do in this world, so many people that needed help that Spike would not betray Buffy's memory and spirit without first giving his all where ever he was needed. If anything, he owed her that much.

The flying body of a slayer jarred Spike from his thoughts and he wrapped his arms around an ecstatic Buffy.

"I love you so much," she said, and he felt her tears caress his skin.

"Love you, too, pet," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "always and forever."

"Yours forever," she whispered as their bodies moved in rhythm to the music, "remember that."

"I will, luv," he said, "I will." And they spoke no more, content with the closeness they now shared dancing.

Spike knew he had a long road ahead of him; redemption for his past was far away yet it was attainable. Whether it took another hundred years or a thousand, it didn’t matter; he would reach it just to be with her for eternity. And on the off chance he was found wanting, well, he would just have to savor moments like this, moments when Buffy's mere presence offered him a glimpse of what Heaven had in store for them.

Next…Buffy singing Don't Be Cruel??!?!

She found him in one of the adjoining rooms, sitting on a bench, staring up at the life-sized cross that hung from the ceiling. Spike's head was tilted to the side in that way that was all his own and Buffy smiled. In a few short hours (not even that, to be honest) this man before her would be her husband. Yes, he was already her mate but he had been right on the night he'd proposed to her; Buffy had wanted more, something that screamed to the world that they were joined in the eyes of God, but she had always been to afraid to bring it up. Besides, although she had wanted it so much, it wouldn’t have been the same if Spike didn’t want it just as much.

"Thought it was bad luck to see each other before the ceremony, luv," he said, his thick, rich voice drifting over his shoulder and to her.

"Well, technically, it's bad luck to see the bride, so that's why you're gonna keep your beautiful blues facing forward; do not pass go, do not look back," she said and sat down directly behind him.

"That's not fair."

"Who said it had to be?" she replied and slipped her manicured fingers through his tousled hair.

"Stuck up bint," he whispered fiercely and Buffy responded by slapping him in the back of the head. "Oy, watch it, now."

"That's what you get for talkin' 'bout your wifey-to-be like that." Spike sighed, and when he offered his hand to her, she took it. He kissed the knuckles of her hand before pulling it to his breast. Buffy had no choice but to scoot forward and she draped her other arm across his neck. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Nothin'. Ev'rythin'. Don't really know."

"Is somebody nervous?" she teased, grating her chin into his shoulder.

"Not so much nervous, luv, as terrified."

All teasing ceased and Buffy's free hand cupped Spike's face, pulling it towards her but he pulled away. "Bad luck, luv, 's what you said." He tried to sound jovial but she ignored it. Pulling him closer, Buffy kissed him on the cheek and fixed her eyes on the back of his head.

"Why?"

"Buffy, luv, we've been together as mates for nearly ten bloody years. Been through it all, we have. And as much as I try to believe things won't change when we say our 'I do's', I know 's not true."

"You don’t wanna get married," Buffy whispered and tried to pull her hand away. Spike held on, and stroked her delicate flesh.

"Heavens no, Buffy, I do wanna marry you, luv. More 'an anything."

"But you said…"

"I said that I know things'll change for good 'n for bad. And while I 'ave the distinct notion that the good stuff'll take the cake, I'm just terrified that…" He shook his head and Buffy knew that as the sign that he was withdrawing from the still sometimes overwhelming emotions of his soul.

"Spike," she murmured, and caressed his chest with her free hand, "please."

~~~

Her plea was a whispered prayer from On High, and Spike knew he was powerless to refuse it. For a year and a half he had been waiting for this day, to be able to claim Buffy as his wife, in law and in the eyes of God. Eyes of God, he thought and laughed humorlessly. Spike had always believed in God, it had been something his mother had instilled in him during the days in London. So, yeah, he had been a God-fearing man (along with fearing everything else, as well) but it had changed after Drusilla had turned him. True, he still believed in God but everything that he was hated the bugger. It was similar to how he looked at slayers; they were, after all, mortal enemies. He respected them both, true, but his demon wanted nothing more than to reject everything that represented the Lord. And Spike had thought that he would feel that way for the rest of his natural existence for, after all, wasn't like his ticket would ever be stamped with the Seal of Approval for admittance through the Pearly Gates.

But, as a hundred plus years had shown him, things changed. And over the last decade, Spike had come to respect God even more and hate him less and less everyday. True, he didn’t know what that meant, not yet, but it was at least a start for something new, something better.

"I'm terrified, Buffy. Terrified that I'm gonna bugger this up. Terrified that in two years, or five, or, bloody 'ell, fifteen, that you an' me 'll be on the outs. And it'll be my fault."

"Spike…"

"No, luv, you don’t understand. I've lived ten years with this soddin' soul but that doesn’t change what I am. Don’t get me wrong, I'd never in a thousand years want this thing gone but that doesn’t matter. We've played house for ten years, luv, ten years of you bein' my mate and it's been bloody great. But Buffy, living as your 'usband is somethin' totally different."

"Why does it have to be?"

"Because, that's jus' the way things are." They were silent for several minutes and when Spike picked up the scent of salty liquid, his soul shivered inside of him. "Buffy, luv, don't cry. I didn’t mean anythin' by it…"

"Yes you did, Spike," she said and he was surprised at the calmness in her voice. "I just can't believe I didn’t see it sooner."

"See what, pet?"

Buffy said nothing at first, and hugged him tightly. Her tears were warm against his skin when she rubbed her face against his neck. Spike leaned back into her arms, allowing her hands to roam over the planes of his body.

"You're right, Spike, things do change. People change. But it's a natural thing; the older you get, the smarter you get--in theory, of course. You take less chances, counting more on experience than hope and desire to see you through things. And the playfulness of lovers after a certain age? Major no-no. And you know what? I say bollocks to that!

"Spike, you think that being my husband necessitates you to change your behavior, become something you're not. That's not true."

"But…"

"No, let me finish. We've known each other fifteen years and, yeah, we've both changed since then. Hell, we've changed since the last time we made love."

"True," he said, " 'm much more hornier since then."

"Pig," she said, and nibbled his ear before turning back to the topic at hand. "The point is, baby, is that change is a natural thing, you can't force it. Hell, you shouldn’t want to force it, cause if you do, you're only making it harder on yourself."

"But I wanna be the best I can for you, luv. I wanna be the 'usband you'll be proud of, the 'usband you deserve."

"Spike," Buffy said and kissed him on the cheek, "I've been proud of you for the last twelve years. And what I deserve is a husband that will love and cherish me through all the b.s. that I give him, will make love to me throughout the night and will protect me and those I hold dear. That's you, Spike, just as you are. I don’t want you to try and fit yourself into some cardboard cutout of what you think I want a husband to be. I want you to be just as you are now; a good man that would die for me and will love me for the rest of his lifetime."

The vampire smiled as the tears burned tracks down his face. For the last year he had kept the fears of failing Buffy as her husband to himself, vowing every night to change what he needed to change once that band was slipped over her finger. To hear Buffy tell him this was a weight lifted from his soul. She loved him just as he was and while a part of him knew that, other parts of him still held insecurities that he doubted would ever totally dissipate. But that was all right, as long as she was here, in his arms.

"Mom would be proud of you, too," she said, and kissed him on the back of his head. She removed her arms from his neck and stood. "Even though she never told me, sometimes when I caught her looking at us bickering, I think she knew."

"Knew what?" Spike called to her retreating voice.

She didn’t answer for sometime and were it not for his heightened senses, he would have thought she'd already left. He waited, listening to the strength her heartbeat, drowning in the scent of her love until she finally spoke.

"That you were the One for me. Always have been, and always will be." He listened to her heels click against the floor and the slight whine of the door as she squeezed through it.

"I love you," she called back to him before shutting the door.

Spike smiled at the cross that stared at him, lost in the enormity of God, Buffy and this day. She had been right; things changed all the time, sometimes for good, other times for bad. You didn’t always know which until it was upon you, but, more importantly, trying to change because that's what you thought someone wanted was, well, not good. The fact that getting the soul was for Buffy was one of those things that coincidentally worked out. Learning to live with it, however, was something he had done for himself and that was the most important thing.

Standing, Spike walked over to the cross and kneeled. His demon shied away from the power that radiated from the object but his soul; his soul rejoiced at the warmth that bathed him. And just like his love for Buffy, Spike knew that his soul, that the love it felt, the love it received, would always be there.

"Always and forever," he said, and planted a quick kiss on the cross, "always and forever."

TBC…Don't Be Cruel

Chapter 7

"And then he left," Buffy shouted as she paced from one end of the living room to the other. "God, he is so like a six year-old; get mad, yell and then stomp out the house. Who the hell does he think he is?"

"Your husband?" Willow offered from her position on the couch. Buffy growled and stared through the redhead. "Okay, not a great time for humor, huh?"

"Ya think?" Buffy spat, and walked over to the couch. Sighing heavily, she plopped down next to her best friend. "What am I gonna do with him, Wills? He just won't listen to me."

"I bet he'd say the same thing," Willow mumbled.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing, just that you need to talk to him."

"Already tried, failed miserably."

Willow frowned. "Did you actually talk to him or did you do the yelling and the pouting and the threatening?" Buffy turned away. "Uh huh, I see."

"Well," the slayer whined, "it's not like he understands diplomacy."

"And it's not like you really try it," Willow replied.

Buffy opened her mouth to object then shut it. "You're right, Wills, I really don’t. It's just that he makes me so mad sometimes…"

"I bet the feeling's mutual."

Buffy ignored Willow's jab. "I mean, we really don’t argue like this much anymore. Usually it's just bickering about this and that, we get in a mood and the other apologizes, and voila, several hours of make-up sex."

"So did not want to hear that."

Buffy snorted and folded one leg under her. "Like you and Ken don’t do tha' wild thang when you're in a tiff."

Willow blushed and Buffy chuckled. Even after all this time, the red head was the easiest person in the world to make blush. "This is so not about me, Buffy Anne Summers."

"Whoa, Wills, my full name? What next, you gonna ground me?"

"I have a right mind to do that," she said, and waggled a finger in front of Buffy's nose, "if you don’t start listening a bit more."

"I know," a sobered Buffy said, "but it's just that these past seven years, really not used to the knock down-drag out screaming and shouting matches with him. Ever since we've been married, things have been even smoother than before…" Buffy trailed off and thought back to that night in the Bronze when he proposed. "You know, I think Spike was right that night in the Bronze; that I wanted to be married so bad but didn’t know it."

"Do you think any of you guys' tiffs before that had anything to do with some resentment on your part? That Spike didn’t think enough to propose?"

"Well, Buffy would say no, but psychoanalytical Buffy…"

"But it's not like you guys fought too much even then."

"But there were more of these types, though; the ones that after he walks away, or I do, had my heart in pieces. And now…" Buffy sighed.

"And now, the whole slayage thing."

"I've been doing this twenty years, Wills, can't he understand that?"

Willow took her friend's hand. "He does, Buffy, I know he does. But can't you see his point, too?"

"It was nothing, really," the slayer replied, and lowered her eyes.

"Buffy, you could've been killed," Willow said, a little more harshly than she intended.

"That's a possibility every night."

"Which is exactly his point."

"He just can't expect me to--to give it up like that."

"Can't he?" Buffy frowned and Willow brushed a strand of hair out of Buffy's face. "Buffy, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you're not needed anymore."

"Thanks, Will," she replied, unable to conceal the hurt that bubbled inside.

"Buffy, I didn’t mean it like that."

"Whatever," the slayer said, and stood. She walked through the living room and kitchen, her bare feet slapping against the floor. With a disgusted snort, she wrenched the back door open and stepped outside, not bothering to close it.

The slayer stared out into the night, taking in the starry sky, one she had become intimately familiar with in the past twenty years. Though light was her saving grace, she could never avoid the call of the darkness; the rich silence that permeated the air--the silence of the sleeping and dead. It was difficult for her to recall a time without it, and it had been as much a part of her as was the simple mechanics of breathing. And just as death would visit her if air was taken away, Buffy was sure that to give up this, to give up the night, would kill her slowly.

When Willow's hands touched her shoulders, Buffy shook off the desire to flinch. The Wicca massaged her muscles and in seconds Buffy's anger had abated, leaving in its wake the mind-numbing fear that influenced her entire being.

"I'm scared, Wills, I'm so scared."

"Of what?"

"That if I…if I give up slaying, that I will be nobody."

"Buffy…"

The blonde stepped away and faced her friend, tears of uncertainty clouding Buffy's vision. "No, Willow, I'm not crazy. I've been the slayer for twenty years, protecting the streets, protecting the world. It's been that way the entire time you and Xander and Giles have known me." She lowered her eyes and whispered, "it's the only me that Spike knows." Risking a glance at her friend, Buffy was surprised at the pitiless compassion that was reflected in the red head's green eyes, immediately followed by one wicked looking resolve face.

"Buffy," Willow said and cupped the former's cheek. "I love you. I love you with everything I am. You have done so much for all of us, and I'd follow you anywhere. But, gotta tell ya, you're a doofus."

Buffy blinked several times. "Did you just call me a doofus?"

Willow shook her head. "Buffy, being a slayer doesn’t make you popular or likable. It doesn’t make you kind, or sympathetic or lovable. In fact, being a slayer is the antithesis of all that. Buffy, you work death every night with your hands, yet those are the same hands that nurture your relationship with Spike and our twenty years as friends.

"You are witty, loyal, caring, forgiving, brave and strong in every sense of the word. Those are the reasons why we love you, why Spike loves you. Not because you can throw a Fyarl demon twenty feet or lay the smack down on a skank ho of a hell god. What you are and who you are; they're two different things. And as much as we respect and are endeared--and grateful, let me tell ya--to that part of you that is the slayer, we love and adore, and would die for you; Buffy."

Overcome with emotion, the slayer could only pull her friend into a warm embrace. They stood on the porch in silence, taking comfort in the arms of one another for several minutes before Buffy finally pushed Willow away.

"But Spike…he likes it that I'm strong. That I can…"

"What? Kick his skinny, yet delicious undead ass up and down the block?"

"Hey, that's my husband you're mentally ogling."

"Buffy, sweetie, Spike's just like us."

"Wow," Buffy replied, "never thought I'd hear any of you guys admit that."

"You know what I mean, miss smarty-pants. He loves you like we do. Sure, he's got a thing for that slayer mojo that you have, but it's the Buffy part of you that dropped him on his head and made him fall in love with you."

"Yeah, I know. But what about…"

"What about what, Buffy? There are dozens of slayers out there now, you know that. Ever since that little releasing of the essence thingamabob the New Council did a few years ago. You're not the only one, anymore, Buffy."

"But it's my fight."

"It's their fight, now. Kennedy knows that, that's why she gave it up last year. It's just not worth it."

"But how can I just turn my back and let someone else die in my place."

"Buffy, you know that each slayer now has the choice of what they want. The ones on active duty know the risks and accept it. They weren't just arbitrarily thrown into the fire. Besides, you have a new fight now."

"What's that?"

Willow brushed her knuckles across Buffy's cheek and offered the slayer a warm smile. "To make sure that your mate and husband is happy and not worrying about you every second."

"It's not like I'm an invalid," Buffy said, pouting.

"And you're not exactly in those golden years of slaying, either. Buffy, you're thirty-eight, and, yeah, you may look like you're twenty-five, and hell, you probably would kick the tar outta every other slayer out there but honey, regardless of age reprieve, you're still thirty-eight. Slayer or no, reflexes do slow. And to trump out there every night like you've been doing…" Willow lowered her eyes and shook her head. When the Wicca raised her head, Buffy was stunned at the fire in Willow's eyes.

"Buffy, you have a duty, not as a slayer but as wife and friend. You can't understand how hard it was…that summer. The only thing that worse for me was when Tara…Buffy, you didn’t see what we went through. Me, Tara, Giles, Anya, Xander, Dawn...Spike. It was so hard, Buffy. Especially for Spike."

Buffy nodded, not trusting her voice. Several years ago, Spike had finally come clean about what it had felt like to lose her and despite second-hand sources recounting his difficulty in dealing, nothing had prepared Buffy for the heartbreaking tale from Spike's own point of view. After his tears had run out that night, she had been the one to cry and fall into his arms to be consoled.

"If it wasn’t for Dawnie, I don’t think he would have made it. But he did. And as much support as Spike has in us, Buffy, he wouldn’t survive you dying like that again."

"But I'm gonna die, Wills. He knows that."

"Yeah, but it's one thing for you to live your life out with him and go naturally. That'll be hard enough for him, but to have you ripped from him slaying? Again? Buffy, you know and I know that he'd blame himself and would never recover."

"Thanks, Wills," Buffy said, and wiped her eyes, "not too much pressure there."

Willow smiled. "What can I say? Love putting you on the spot." Her smile disappeared and her face took on a serious expression. "Listen to him, Buffy, he deserves that much. You're married, and marriage is about compromise. Please, for his sake and yours, try to see where he's coming from."

Willow stayed for another hour and though they talked of happier things, Buffy's mind was fixated on the earlier conversation. Willow was right, Buffy was not a spry twenty-year-old anymore and despite the fantastic shape she was in, she was still a thirty-something slayer. Going out patrolling each night, regardless of Spike with her or not, was foolish. She had realized that much a few years ago but her fear had overwhelmed her common sense. That wouldn’t happen again. Willow said that marriage was about compromise. She missed one other thing though, Buffy thought. Couples also told each other of what they feared and Buffy had yet to do that about her own apprehensions.

"That's gonna change," she said as she watched Willow pull of. She would confess her dread to Spike whenever he decided to return. Of course, that particular would have to wait until she did some major apologizing.

~~~

"Home, Sweet, Home," Spike whispered to the empty room. Locking the door, he silently traversed the darkness, looking for some signs of his wife. His search took him from the dining room to the kitchen and then the living room, ending at the bottom of the steps where he had started his journey.

"Guess she's sleep," he said, and stared up at the imposing flight of steps before him. His hand rested on the banister and Spike ran through every conceivable scenario he could on seeing her again. His undead heart threatened to spill from his breast and he wanted nothing more than to shower Buffy with kisses and declarations of how deep his love ran for her. Oh, he was still brassed off at her stubbornness, but that would always run second to the overwhelming desire he had to soothe her fears away.

"Here goes nothing," Spike said, and taking a deep breath, he started his sojourn up the stairs. Each step sounded like Krakatoa, exploding through the house and into his ears. Of course it would, he thought. Can't be stealthy for the undeath of me when I want. And he so wanted to just get in bed and pull his sleeping wife close to him. They still needed to have it out and all, but that could wait till the morrow.

When Spike reached the door to their room, he sighed in relief when he saw it closed. More often than not, that meant that his girl was burrowed in under the covers, pillow and Gordo held tight as the melodic sigh that escaped her lips denoted a slumbering slayer. As he turned the knob, he noticed the flickering light that flashed underneath the door. Opening the door, Spike gaped in surprise at the sight that greeted him.

The room was bathed in candlelight. Dozens of candles, all shapes and sizes, filled the room. He picked out the individual scents of jasmine, raspberry, and violets. But the most powerful aroma was that of vanilla. Vanilla and Buffy. And just like her fragrance overpowered every other smell, the sight of her sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, clad in only a white silk robe, burned the vampire from the inside out. Her long golden tresses tumbled across her shoulders like some heavenly waterfall, and her hazel eyes shone with a love that humbled Spike. Her beauty, even after all these years, was still flawless and Spike swallowed as his eyes drunk in her partially concealed form.

"Hey," she said, and he shivered at the sound of her voice.

"Hey, luv," Spike replied woodenly. Shaking the multitude of thoughts that clamored inside his head away, Spike began to undress, never taking his eyes off her. So many times he had done this, loving how his naked form always sent a chill through her that he could discern from afar. But now, as his jeans crumpled into a heap at his ankles, Spike noticed that Buffy had yet to break eye contact. Stepping out of his jeans, the vampire stalked over to the bed, watching Buffy slide under the covers as he did so. He kneeled on the bed, unsure of where to go from there.

"Lay with me," Buffy said, and patted the empty space beside her. Spike obeyed, and slid underneath the crimson satin sheets. Once he was firmly ensconced, Buffy wriggled out of her robe and tossed it to the floor. They lay there, face to face and not touching for several minutes. The look on Buffy's face told him that she had something to say and Spike was patient enough to wait her out. Of course, the last thing he expected was her tentative whispers of:

"Don’t stop thinking of me, don’t make me feel this way. Come over here to love me…" She hesitated and her gaze dropped to the hollow of his throat and when she glanced back into his eyes, Spike was rocked by the insecurity that he saw.

"You know what I want you to say," she finished, and when Spike saw the first hint of tears, he bit his lip but not before declaring his love for her.

"Do you? Love me, I mean."

"Of course I do, luv," he said, and instinctively pulled her into his arms. "You're ev'rythin' to me, Buffy, you know that."

"I know you love me, but do you love me?"

Spike frowned. "Not quite sure I followed you 'round that last bend, pet."

Buffy burrowed into his embrace and graced his chest with the softest of kisses. She took a deep breath and pulled away enough to look him in the eye. "Do you love all of me? Please, Spike, just answer me."

"Of course I do, Buffy…"

"Are there parts of me you love more?"

He opened his mouth to protest vehemently when it clicked. Never in their seven years of marriage had Buffy ever questioned Spike's love or her ability to be loved--that particular crown of thorns had been set aside many years ago and for her to bring it out now…

"You think if you stop slayin' I won't love you as much anymore." It wasn't a question and her silence was answer enough. "Buffy," Spike said, and cupped her cheek. "I want you to listen and listen good; I don’t wanna have to say this again:

"I love you, Buffy Anne Summers, every part of you. I love your hair; I love your stubbornness. I love your laugh. I love your body and the way you move, in clothes and out. I love how your skin shines in the light, how your smile could brightened the darkest of voids. I love that little wheeze you make right before you fall into deep sleep mode three. I love how you wriggle your bottom against me when you have a particularly naughty dream. I love how you sigh when I enter you. I love how you play with your hair when you're nervous and excited. I love how you look when you first wake up. I…" Spike stopped and kissed her on the forehead. "I could go on forever, you know. Hey, don’t do that."

Spike's confession had brought forth the silent tears. When Spike folded her back into his arms, Buffy let out a strangled sob before her body heaved and she cried in earnest.

The vampire said nothing as he held his slayer close, rubbing her back and humming in her ear. Thankfully, the breakdown didn’t last long and when she finally looked back up at him, Spike saw the insecurity fade, supplanted by resignation.

"I'll do it," she whispered, "I'll give up slaying."

"Why?" The question was out before he could stop it.

Buffy shrugged. "I…I know how hard it was for you before. And I will do anything to prevent you from feeling that pain again. Even if I have to give up everything I am."

"Buffy, look at me," Spike commanded, and she complied. "I don’t want you to stop slayin…"

"You don’t?"

"Well, yeah, actually I do, but I wasn't asking that today."

"But I thought you said…"

It was Spike's turn to shrug. "Heat o' tha' moment sort of thing. Asked for something I don’t have the right to ask for."

"Bollocks," she said and flushed at the amused look he gave her. "I mean that you're my husband and mate, you have a right to ask your wife not to get herself dead by doing something as silly as slaying. We both know that."

"And we both know that I never want to strong arm you into somethin'."

"But…"

"Listen, pet, I don’t like you patrollin', that much you know, but I can deal. What I can deal with is you gallavantin' around each and ev'ry night like you've been doin'."

"So, you're okay with the slaying?"

"Not okay, but it's part of you. And, before you ask, yes, when you stop patrollin' I will love you just as much. Buffy, there is no part of you that I do not love, no part of you I do not crave every second of every day. You're in my mind, body and soul, Summers. You're in my soddin' blood, I'll never get rid of you and I don’t want to."

"So," she said, and smiled shyly, "are you still drowning in me?"

"Buffy, I've drowned and been resurrected by your love a thousand times a day." Her lips on his were soft velvet, a sampling of what it was to taste heaven, and he wanted more but she pulled away.

"I love you so much, Spike. So much."

"Love you, too, Buffy, ev'ry part of you."

"Show me," she said, and they were instantly lost in the feel of the other. And as he entered her, Spike told Buffy again how much he loved her, giving her a different answer for each stroke.

When she sighed and her muscles clamped down on his swelling erection, Spike couldn’t help but think of how right his world was. He had Buffy in his life, in his bed, in his heart and soul and he knew that it would always be this way. Nothing in the world could break them apart.

He would see to that.

Chapter 8

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Spike stepped back from the volcano that was his wife. He held his hands up in surrender but saw that it had no effect on the fire that poured from her eyes.

"Luv, I know how it sounds, how you must feel but…"

The smack that interrupted him took them both by surprise, but it did nothing to slow her momentum. She stalked forward, her breath coming in razor puffs and despite the demon's reluctance to retreat, Spike knew that this wasn’t exactly the time to show his stones.

"You know how I must feel?" She asked before repeating it, incredulous at the sentiment. "If you knew how I would feel, you sure as hell wouldn’t have done this without talking to me. Do you have any clue what it feels like to watch your husband and mate coddling that crazy bitch?" She spat and pointed towards the living room.

Spike scowled as memories reminded him of a time when he had seen something quite similar. "Oh," he said, "a bit like watchin' you and your ex-honey snoggin' after that whole 'I was there' diddy you said to me in the kitchen."

He also remembered the night that had preceded her emboldened approach in the kitchen; the first night Buffy had ever allowed him to hold her. He had told her that he'd never been classified as a thinker and, as he watched her face ignite with a fury he'd never before seen, Spike had to admit that twenty years had done nothing to remedy that particular character flaw.

"Did you just compare what happened between you and that…" she yelled before taking a deep breath and speaking with a calmness that frightened him even more than her anger. "Are you comparing what I walked in on with what happened between me and Angel twenty years ago?"

Spike swore. There was no right answer to that and he knew he'd painted himself in the proverbial bloody corner. And the 'bloody' part--well, if he kept it up, there would be nothing figurative about it at all.

"Buffy, luv, I didn’t mean…"

"Don’t you dare 'luv' me," she said and the first hint of tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. "First off, it was twenty years ago Spike, twenty years!"

"I know, I'm so--"

"Secondly, we weren't even together then. So, yeah, I screwed up with the Angel kiss, but I wasn’t committed to you, Spike, I wasn’t married to you. And my memory may be faulty but I do believe that Angel and I were fully clothed, which is a lot more than I can say for you and your dark goddess."

"We weren't--" Spike sighed heavily, knowing that yelling wouldn’t get him anywhere. "Look, Buffy, we weren't doing anything."

"So that's why you were all shirtless avenger and she was down to her--what do you call it--skivvies?"

Forty-love, Buffy's serve. She did have a point but Spike couldn’t let her know that in so many words. All he could do was explain, or try, what was going on.

"It was the only way she would quiet down, pet, the only way I could stop her from hurtin' herself more than she already was."

Buffy arched an eyebrow. "If she wants to get hurt, I can help her with that; easy as one, two, stake."

"You can't, Buffy. I already told you she has a soul."

"And? How many humans have souls yet murder and rape? If I've learned one thing these last twenty-something years is that a soul doesn’t mean shit if the person with it doesn’t give a damn or is part of the psycho network. And Drusilla definitely falls under heading number two."

"Buffy," Spike said and risked caressing her bare shoulder. He was encouraged that she only tensed but didn’t pull away. "I understand where you're comin' from, luv, I really do, but I'm all she's got."

Buffy opened her mouth but shut it just as quickly and lowered her head. The seconds ticked by and Spike's unbeating heart felt as if it would explode from the wait. When she finally glanced up, Spike was taken aback by the resignation in her eyes.

"What about Angel."

"She remembers what he did to her as Angelus. That's why he brought her here. She won't go near him." Seizing the opportunity, Spike stepped forward and took her by the arms. "Can't you see, Buffy, I'm all she's got."

The look on her face chilled Spike to the bone and he took an involuntary step back.

"Get out." There was no emotion in Buffy's tone and Spike stared at her in disbelief.

"Buffy, I…"

"Please, Spike, just go." The first tear made its way down her cheek and he was powerless to stop the guilt that flooded his soul. "Get her some clothes from my room and go. I don’t…I can't, I can't deal with this."

"Buffy?"

But she said nothing more. She turned away from him and slowly walked through the kitchen door.

Spike did not follow.

"Remember that girl with the frilly dress?" Drusilla asked. She was nestled between Spike's legs and he caressed her bare arms, mindful of her nails. She had tried to rake her eyes out several times and Spike had been forced to de-claw her. Despite that, his arms were littered with scratches that had drawn blood after her latest panic/tantrum.

"Which one, Dru?" he murmured in her ear.

"The one who wouldn’t play the spike game. She didn’t like to play."

Spike cringed. He remembered too well that particular memory. The girl had been no more than nine and he and Dru had slaughtered the poor bit's family. Spike had wanted to put the girl out of her misery but Dru hadn't.

"No, Princess, she didn’t."

Drusilla turned around and stared out through glossy eyes. "But I made her play, didn’t I, Spike. I made her play and she yelled for the angels when I drove the spike into her. She yelled so loud…" Dru laughed but it didn’t take long for it to fall into hysterical and guilt ridden sobs.

"Shhh, Princess, it's okay."

"No it's not, how can it be? I hurt that poor dearie, violated her just as he violated me over and over again." There was no need to expand on just who 'he' was. Angel--or Angelus--had royally fucked Dru in every conceivable way. And despite his semi-loathing towards his Sire that still prevailed, the platinum blonde couldn’t help but sympathize with the guilt Angel carried over what he had turned this former servant of God into. Angel had already called four times asking if he could help. Each time Spike told him no but thanks for the concern, as late as it may be. But every time he found himself apologizing to Angel for the remark, thankful that someone was worried about the former couple.

Unlike a certain wife that could not be found.

Spike rested his cheek on the top of Drusilla's head, enveloping her with his strong arms. He tried not to think of Buffy at times like this, wanting to devote his entire being to the wreck of a creature before him. But not thinking of Buffy was just as impossible for Spike as not feeling; everything that he was had been entwined with the petite slayer and being separated this long from her in such a way ate at him like nothing else.

"Go to her, my Spike," Drusilla whispered and he frowned. "Your love, my William, go to your love."

Spike shook his head. "Dru, I can't do that. I can't leave you…" Two slender fingers silenced him before he felt her cool lips slide across his mouth.

"Yes, you can, my righteous William. Go to her before it is ruined and the moon weeps for its heartbroken child."

"I won't leave you, Dru," he said, "not now."

The frail woman's rants ceased as Spike rocked her to sleep and his thoughts fell from the woman in his arms to the one in his heart. As much as he once loved Dru, nothing could compare to the love he felt for Buffy. And as Dru whimpered of their most heinous acts as she slept, Spike was kept awake by the fear that his life with Buffy was over.

"How you feelin', pet?" he asked the naked form underneath the covers.

The thin woman shrugged and brushed her raven hair from her face. "Like a sun exploded behind my eyes."

"Well, that's better than a few weeks ago," he said amusedly, "back then it was all, holy water down your throat and garlic in your ears."

Dru laughed and Spike smiled. It was the first time in all their years together that she had ever exhibited such genuineness. Her mirth was usually tinted with a great deal of madness, but this--if Spike wasn’t staring into those haunted pools that were her eyes, he would have sworn she was whole again.

"It hurts, Spike," she said, dropping any hints of her previous levity. "It hurts so bad."

Spike pulled her to his chest and her cool skin bled through the cotton of his shirt. "I know, baby, I know it hurts. But it'll keep getting better, I promise you."

"But it won't, William," she said and looked at him with sad eyes, "not for you."

The vampire frowned at the woman before him. "What do you mean, Dru?"

She pressed her delicate hand over his heart. "In here, you hurt, my sweet boy. Your pain screams at me. Find her, William. Find her."

"But Dru I--"

"I love you, my Spike, I always will, but she is your heart now. She has been longer than you've known. Don’t lose that because of some obligation to an old love."

"But Dru--"

"Go to her, I will be fine." A ghost of a smile tickled her lips. "Besides, I need my beauty sleep."

"You are always beautiful, luv," he said and planted a chaste kiss on her lips. "My Princess."

Dru smiled and laid her head on the pillow and Spike watched as sleep overtook her. He had rarely left her side in the past month, depending on Willow and Dawn (who were a level above furious with him, though, at times, they had displayed sympathy) for supplies and updates on Buffy.

Buffy.

Even the thought of her tightened every cell within him. He had called dozens of times and never received anything more than a 'goodbye Spike'. He had no qualms with her anger, hell, he was angry with himself but, as he tried to explain in the multiple letters and messages left on her voicemail, he had to be there for Dru, at least until she was strong enough to face Angel. Spike only wished that Buffy could be there with him. But since that wasn’t gonna happen anytime soon, it was time for him to go to her.

Sparing a final glance at the sleeping vampire, Spike slid the duster over his shoulders and strolled out of the mansion with only one thing in mind.

To see her again.

~~~

Of course, a slight detour through a cemetery or seven was required to work up his nerve. Brushing the dust from his ninth dusted vampire, Spike renewed his trek towards Revello. Each step he took ignited a hanger full of napalm inside of him. It had been over a month since he had last seen her face and he steadied himself for the loathing those hazel eyes would hold for him. He didn’t blame her and would welcome any punishment with open arms, so long as she forgave him.

He wasn’t a complete wanker. He knew he'd pulled a bloody Peaches with the whole 'helping the hopeless' bit but it had been the only…

"Bollock, mate," he growled at himself. "There's always another way, you were just too bloody stupid to see what it was."

The self-flagellation continued up until a hundred yards from 1630. That was when he spotted the black convertible parked in the driveway. An indescribable, inexcusable rage filled him and Spike gritted his teeth. Not wasting another second, he streaked towards the house.

Not bothering with the door, he scaled the tree that led into Buffy's old room. Common sense would have told him that she wouldn’t be there, as it was now the guestroom, especially not in Angel's arms.

Common sense must have taken one hell of a vacation.

A red haze clouded his vision and Spike had the urge to kill the two creatures that slept in the bed in front of him.

She lay under the covers, her arms curled around her fluffy pillow and Mr. Gordo, who was left out in the cold atop the covers. He was also above the covers, one hand resting on the curve of her hip. Both seemed at peace though Spike saw the dried tracks of tears that marred Buffy's glorious face. Tears that he put there. Just as he had driven her back into the arms of her precious Angel.

As he climbed down the tree, tears blinding his vision, Spike almost laughed at the ease at which his insecurities had risen within him. He was again reminded--painfully so--that he was, and always would be William the Bloody Awful.

Wasn’t life grand?

~~~

He felt her even before she crossed the threshold. Ordinarily he would have been out; now that Dru was lucid the majority of the time, there was no reason for him to remain by her side. That meant that he was always on the lookout for her and able to avoid her when necessary.

"Hey, luv," he said, never turning his back to her. He slid a cigarette between his lips and swore when he couldn’t find a lighter.

"Hey," she said.

"So," Spike said and turned to meet the love of his life eye to eye, "what brings you here?"

"Spike, I--I've come here three times in the last week and you're never here. Hell, I've even talked to Drusilla--" That got his attention.

"Have you now? She didn’t seem to mention that bit o' info to me," he lied. Oh, Dru had indeed told him about Buffy's visits and their talks but he wouldn’t let her in on that bit of info, just as he wouldn’t let her flinch at his callous tone affect him.

"Angel told me what happened."

Spike's eyes narrowed. "Which part? About me kickin' his poofy arse or the fact that he still think he knows what's best?"

"Spike, it's not like that."

The vampire threw the unlit fag to the ground. "Bollocks! I saw you two in bed together. Don’t deny it, Buffy, I saw you…"

"Just like I saw you and Dru, huh?" she replied, her natural spark returning. "He was there to comfort me because I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I screwed up, okay."

"So you admit it? You and him fuc…"

She was in front of him before he could react and the hazel flames that bore into him reminded the vampire that this small speck of a woman was the reason the world was still here.

"Don’t even think about finishing that sentence."

He shrugged. "Well, its true, innit?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and he knew she was using all her power to keep her temper in check. "No, we did not do anything, Spike, you know why? Cause I'm married to a man I love more than life itself, a man that is acting like a complete and utter bonehead right about now."

Spike's eyes widened and he took in his wife. "I'm a bonehead? I'm a bonehead? I wasn’t the one who jumped off the mountaintop of conclusions two months ago." Buffy lowered her eyes. "I wasn’t the one who wouldn’t say more than a 'goodbye, Spike' for a bloody month. I…"

"You're right."

"Come again?"

Buffy looked up at him and he saw the tears that fought for attention in her eyes. "I said that you're right. I did jump to conclusions and, regardless of what you tried to tell me, I made up my mind about what I had seen. I should have trusted you…"

"And I should have been there for you," he said and laid his hands on her shoulders. "You're my wife, Buffy and you always come first, no matter what." Spike refused to look her in the eye; unable to retain any more of his misplaced bravado.

"Buffy, you're right, you did jump to conclusions but this isn't your fault. Yeah, you may have been able to handle it better, but I don’t blame you. If the roles were reversed, I would've done the same thing--" on her dubious look he shrugged. "Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t 'ave stayed away, but this whole cock-up is my fault. I should've talked to you, luv, made you understand. Should've asked for your help and, if you didn’t offer, should've wiped my hands clean of Dru."

"But what you did for her…"

"Buffy, I…"

She reached up and kissed him on the lips. "Shhh, let me finish. You have become such a strong, good man, Spike and what you did for Drusilla was proof of that. Yes, I should come first with you but there are times that, if you can help it, you put the pain of others before anyone else. I've done that my entire life and I should have realized that if you hadn't have done what you did, you wouldn’t have been true to the Spike that I love.

"We both screwed up; there's no use in one of us taking more of the blame. The truth is that we both saw with our fears, not our love. We won't do that again.

"It may take some time for us to get through all of this, to heal, but I know we will. We'll always find each other. Always."

"Always?" he asked.

"Always," Buffy replied, "always and forever."

No more words were spoken and the two lovers and mates embraced. They stayed that way for hours, content in the feel of loving arms wrapped tightly around them. Spike knew they had both screwed things up, he most of all and there was no doubt that he would be spending a great deal of time making restitution. But it didn’t matter; as long as he held this slip of a woman in his heart and in his arms, everything would be okay.

That's how it always was.

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