CHAPTER 15 - Part I - Absolution

Buffy cast one last look over the sleeping vampire in her bed then let out a sigh and closed the bedroom door behind her before slowly walking to the stairs. It had been a hell of an evening and she was shattered.

When Spike had fallen unconscious at her feet earlier that evening, she’d been terrified that she’d been too late after all and he was going to turn to dust in front of her very eyes. The thought had held her immobile for a few seconds and it had taken Xander’s totally inappropriate, “I can’t feel a pulse,” comment as he’d dropped to his knees and held up Spike’s wrist, to snap her out of her frozen state and into Slayer mode.

Giving out orders left and right, they’d soon had the vampire back at her house and that’s when they’d had their first good look at his shockingly debilitated condition. Reminiscent of when he’d first been chipped, Spike’s excessive blood loss had him looking gaunt to the point of emancipation. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and his cheekbones looked as if they could cut through his skin at any moment enhancing his sunken appearance.

Unsteadily, Buffy had asked Xander and Giles to take him to her room and put him in her bed while she warmed some blood. They’d complied then Willow and Tara had volunteered to fix up Spike’s wound but the Slayer had been insistent that she would do it herself. They’d not pushed and had decided to make themselves useful in the kitchen preparing sandwiches and snacks instead. Dawn volunteered to help them while Buffy warmed some of the blood she’d put in the fridge the night of her and Spike’s disastrous date.

When the men had come back down, Giles had declined any food saying that he would go but that he would be back the next day with fresh blood as Spike would need more than what she had in the fridge. Suitably choked about his thoughtfulness, Buffy had engulfed him in an emotional bear-hug that initiated a full five minutes of awkward stammering and spectacle cleaning from the normally stoic Watcher before he finally left.

Xander had also said he had to go as Anya wanted to go back to the shop so she could complete her cashing up for the day. Before he left, Buffy had also hugged him tight and thanked him for what he’d said to help Spike. Xander had merely smiled and nodded, both knowing that his dislike for Spike wasn’t quite as intense as before.

Grabbing one of the sandwiches, Buffy had then taken the blood up to Spike and tried to get him to drink. Unable to rouse him, even when she smeared some of the pig’s blood on his lips, Buffy knew she had to do something…and quick. Going into the bathroom, she’d grabbed some bandages, gauze and a pair of scissors before going back to her room.

Dropping the supplies on her bedside cabinet, she’d held onto the scissors and used them to make a small incision along the inside of her forearm just under where the Monu had left his mark the night before. Holding it over one of the mugs, she’d allowed her blood to drip into it for a few seconds then repeated the action with the other before wrapping a bandage crookedly around the cut.

If the smell of Slayer blood wasn’t potent enough to lure him from his unconscious state, then nothing would. Turning back to the blond, she’d then sat on the bed and lifted his head slightly as she once more placed the mug to his mouth.

This time when the viscous fluid had touched his cracked lips, he’d stirred and weakly ran his tongue along his bottom lip. Seeing this, Buffy had immediately pushed the mug more firmly into him, almost forcing him to take the liquid down. Although he’d never actually woken up fully, he’d roused himself enough to drain that mug and the second dry before collapsing back into unconsciousness once more.

She ‘d stayed with him for another couple of hours after that, cleaning and dressing his wound, eating her food…just watching him. Then, deciding she better get him more blood, she’d reluctantly left the room

Quietly walking down the stairs, Buffy entered the kitchen and saw Willow sitting at the breakfast counter drinking hot chocolate and eating cookies.

“Hey,” she greeted tiredly, “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

“Nah, I thought I’d wait up for you. Tara took Dawnie up about half an hour ago, she was falling asleep in her drink,” Willow explained with a small smile. “So, how is he? Did he wake up yet?”

“Nope, not yet,” the Slayer replied. “I just came down to get more blood.”

“I’ll get it ready,” the redhead offered as she stood up. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll pour you out a hot chocolate too.”

“Thanks, Will, that’d be great,” Buffy said with a grateful smile as she sunk down onto a stool and took a cookie from her friend’s plate.

Willow placed a steaming mug in front of her then opened the fridge and pulled out a couple of bags of blood. Emptying them into fresh mugs, she placed one in the microwave, pressed the timer and hit the start button. As it whirred into life, she turned back to her friend who had just finished her cookie.

“So, how you holding up?” Willow asked, the concern for Buffy evident on her face.

“I’m fine,” Buffy replied wryly. “But then, it wasn’t me that almost had all the blood drained out of my body by a psycho, ugly ass, once upon a time demon-brownie that had me in a mega thrall, was it?”

“No, it was you that had to watch someone she loves being hurt and not be able to do a thing about it,” the redhead countered quietly. Her face softened and she reached out to lay a comforting hand on her friend’s arm. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Buffy…”

“Can’t I?” the blonde demanded harshly. “It is my fault after all. If I hadn’t caused that argument last night, Spike wouldn’t have been in his crypt tonight. He’d have been here, with me, happy. Not alone and feeling miserable just because I was annoyed that things didn’t go my way.” Her voice broke slightly on the last and she closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, willing the tears not to fall. She had no right to feel sorry for herself when Spike lay upstairs a victim of her selfish actions.

Willow sighed and moved around the counter to place an arm around her distraught friend and bring her into a hug. "Hey, I felt the same way when Tara got brain sucked by Glory. We'd had that row and I wasn't there to help her…I blamed myself totally for what had happened, but…Tara didn't. We talked after she was better and she said that knowing I loved her kept her strong…that and the fact that she really didn't know much about anything going on around her…"

Buffy couldn't help but laugh and pulled away from her friend's embrace to look up at her. "So, what are you saying? If I'm lucky, Spike won't remember anything?"

The redhead smiled then her face took on a look of determination Buffy knew only too well. "No, I'm saying that there's no room for blaming yourself here, Missy. It was no-one's fault but Fen's and he's gone. All that matters now is that you love Spike and he loves you and once he wakes up I'm gonna knock both your heads together and leave you in a locked up room until you get things sorted out."

"Yes, Willow," Buffy replied in what she hoped passed as a contrite voice.

The witch nodded curtly. "Right, now, finish your drink while I heat the other mug and then get yourself up those stairs and tend to your vampire."

Buffy obediently downed her hot chocolate then picked up the tray with the two warmed mugs of blood that Willow had placed on the counter. "Thanks, Will, I'll see you in the morning."

"Night Buffy," the redhead replied as she watched her friend go back up the stairs before turning to make a start on cleaning up the dirty dishes.

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Spike fought against the blackness surrounding him as ineffectually as someone endeavouring to swim through tar. In a desperate attempt to regain consciousness, he struck out at the enveloping cloak of nothing but he was weak, frighteningly so and couldn't seem to break through.

Suddenly, scattered memories of what had happened with Fen began flashing through his brain so fast he had trouble sorting them out at first. He remembered the demon being at his crypt and vaguely recalled the walk to Rosewood. Stabbing pain to the chest. Blood draining. Then voices talking…no…he was talking, pouring out his pain and guilt. Fen egging him on, draining him further. Then Buffy…Buffy was there…helping him, soothing him, encouraging him.

Loving him.

She'd said she loved him.

His joy at her words then his disbelief swiftly followed by the Whelp reinforcing what Buffy had said. Then he was free, free to kill Fen and he did so with his last ounce of strength.

After that, nothing visual, just sounds, smells and tastes. Scoobies muffled murmurs, him being carried then laid on something soft, gentle hands touching him, soothing him. Then blood at his lips, so near, so hungry, but he couldn't seem to get his fragile body to respond. A pause, then blood at his lips again, soft voice coaxing and…something else. Something potent that made him react immediately and instinctively, draining first one cup that he was offered dry and then another. He knew he should recognise what it was as the viscous fluid hummed through his starved system but tiredness took over at an alarming rate and he lost what tenuous hold he'd had on staying awake.

Now though, he wasn't going to succumb so easily. He still felt weak but not as pathetically so as before. Struggling once more, he finally felt the oppressive darkness lighten slightly and began to become more and more aware of his immediate surroundings.

He was laying on a bed. Soft pillow under his head, a thin sheet covering him, no shirt but still in his jeans. And Buffy's scent all around him like a comforting embrace…Oh God, he was in her bedroom!

That realisation jolted him so much that the blackness enveloping him began to recede even further as the oncoming rush of consciousness raced to the fore.

Determinedly, he forced his eyes open a crack then quickly shut them again as the world swam hazily in front of him. A couple of seconds later, he called himself a prat and tried again. This time when he opened his eyes, he rode out the crazy tilting and swaying of the room until his vision began to focus better.

Gingerly, he tried moving an arm and was relieved to find that his body seemed to finally be listening to him once more. His attempt at sitting up, however, was less successful as it was met with a sharp pain in his chest, reminding him of the fact that he'd been stabbed.

Looking down at himself, he saw that there was a bandage covering his wound and wondered if Buffy had been the one to tend to him. He certainly couldn't discern much of anyone else's scent in the room to suggest otherwise and felt a rush of pleasure mixed with disappointment, run through him. Pleasure that she'd helped him and disappointment that he'd missed it.

Dropping his head back on the pillow, he closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to get passed the dry lump in his throat. If it weren’t for the fact that he was laying in Buffy’s bed and starving hungry, he’d have sworn that everything that happened with Fen was yet another one of his guilt induced nightmares.

Debating whether or not to call out for attention, he suddenly heard a creak on the stairs outside. Straining to listen harder, he could just make out the sound of someone coming up the steps.

Hoping against hope that it was the Slayer and not one of the other Scoobies, he kept quiet and waited to see if anyone would enter.

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Buffy carefully carried the tray up the stairs and into the bathroom. Pulling open a drawer, she picked up the scissors she'd put back earlier, then pushed up the sleeve of her blouse. Moving the bandage aside, she deftly reopened her cut and let the precious fluid drip into the mugs. Satisfied she'd added enough, she carefully recovered the wound and washed the scissors before putting them away.

Leaving the bathroom, she balanced the tray in one hand as she opened the door to her room and quietly entered. Glancing over at Spike, she saw that although he looked considerably better, his eyes were still closed. With a sigh, she walked over to the bed and placed the tray on the bedside cabinet. This time when she looked down at the vampire, she let out a small gasp of surprise. Blue eyes stared back at her from half closed lids. “Hey, you’re awake,” she said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I had all the blood drained out of me,” he croaked out in reply. “How do I look?”

She gave him a small smile. “Like you’ve had all the blood drained out of you.”

“Good. Nothing worse than feeling a bit under the weather but still looking like you could go ten rounds with a Fyarl,” he mumbled as his eyes drifted shut again. “Sorry, pet, feeling a touch exhausted.”

“Well try to stay awake for a few more minutes so you can drink the blood I brought you,” said Buffy as she picked up one of the mugs.

Spike opened his eyes and weakly attempted to push himself up into a sitting position but couldn't find the strength. "Soddin’ hell!" he muttered in frustration as he collapsed back onto the bed.

"Well, wait a minute and I'll help you," Buffy informed him with a touch of irritation as she sat herself down on the edge of the bed with her back against the headboard. "I didn't mean for you to try and sit up by yourself yet, you're still too weak."

"Rub it in, why don't you, Slayer?" he growled unhappily. "And how the hell am I supposed to eat if I can't…" His voice tapered off in surprise when he felt the Slayer's right arm slip under his head and carefully raise him slightly. He was further amazed when she then manoeuvred herself in behind him so that his head and shoulders rested back against her chest and her arm wrapped around his waist.

“Comfy?” she asked.

Unable to resist, he wiggled his shoulders and head, snuggling even further into her embrace. A sudden intake of breath from the woman behind him, quickly followed by the faint scent of her arousal had him smiling smugly. "Am now."

Knowing that he'd rubbed against her on purpose, she tutted as if irritated but couldn't hold back the wry smile that formed as she leaned forward over his shoulder and brought the filled mug around to the vampire's mouth. "Okay, Mr. Fidget-Ass, that’s enough of that. Just drink this so we can get both get some sleep tonight," she ordered dryly as she tried to subdue the tingling that she still felt all over her body at his deliberate, almost sensuous movement.

Enjoying the feel of being effectively held in her arms, Spike obediently opened his mouth and began to swallow the fluid as she tipped up the mug. He drained it so fast, it took a second or two for him to realise that the cup didn't just contain pig's blood. Before he could question Buffy, however, she had put the empty mug down and picked up the second one, shoving it under his nose. Hunger had him latch onto the cup straight away and, that too, was drained in record time.

Eyes closing, he allowed himself to relish the welcome feeling of the blood flowing through his system. It hummed and danced along his veins beginning to give him back his lost strength and helping to further clear his still groggy head. In fact, it was that emerging clarity that had his eyes snapping back open as he realised just exactly what had been added to his dinner. It was human blood. And not just any human, either. Oh, no. This was Slayer blood. Buffy’s blood.

Needing to be absolutely sure, Spike grabbed the hand that was resting on his waist and lifted her arm as he roughly pushed the sleeve of her blouse up to reveal the small, crooked bandage. Inhaling deeply, he could smell that the wound was still fresh without even having to pull back the crepe and check.

Just having her blood…having Buffy…running through his veins was potent, wonderful…and very, very wrong. The all familiar feelings of guilt began worming their way into his head but, for the first time since his perceived failure on the Tower, Spike was damned if he was going to let his destructive thoughts win.

Instead, for once, he allowed the also present, but constantly repressed, intense feelings of longing and love to flow freely through him. She’d said she loved him and although he could doubt the words, he couldn’t doubt the action…that simple fact was that Buffy wouldn’t have freely offered her blood to him like that if she didn’t feel something for him.

Would she?

Suddenly, he had to know. Had to hear her say the words to him again without the haze of Fen’s thrall making everything seem like a distant dream. Tilting his head to the side, he looked up at her in part wonderment and part incredulity then tightened his grip on her hand. “Why?” he asked, hoarsely.

“Because you wouldn’t drink anything and I couldn’t just leave you to starve,” she replied, her face taking on a pained look at the memory.

It wasn’t the answer he wanted. Abruptly releasing her hand, he looked away in disappointment. “So, that’s all it was then?” he asked, dissatisfaction making his tone harsher than he intended. “Pity? You felt sorry for me and thought you’d do your do-gooder thing and give the pathetic vamp some of your blood? Bit extreme, don’t you think? Even for you.”

A couple of months ago, his abrasiveness would have earned him a scathing retort from Buffy followed by a threat to stake him once and for all. Now, however, the Slayer saw the words for what they really were…a way to cover up his hurt. And she had hurt him, albeit unwittingly, she suddenly realised. He’d been needing reassurance and all she’d given him was a non committal reply that could just have easily applied to a stray dog.

Man, she really needed to work on that.

Biting her lip, she decided that trying to hold a conversation while looking at him upside down wasn’t the best way to convey what she needed to say. Lifting him away from her slightly, she manoeuvred herself around until she was sitting on the edge of the bed then gently lowered Spike's head onto her lap.

Looking down at him, she saw that, although he hadn’t resisted her touch, he still wasn’t looking at her. Gathering her thoughts, she absently began running her left hand through his hair, then, taking a deep, calming breath, she started to speak in a low voice.

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Willow put the last of the dishes away then wearily climbed the stairs to go to bed. Pausing by Buffy's door for a moment, she leant close and heard the murmuring of voices. Looked like Spike was awake and they appeared to be talking. Like normal people. With no arguing or anything. Seemed like there wouldn’t be a need to lock them in after all.

“Bloody hell!”

Uh-oh…on second thoughts…

She waited for Buffy’s raised voice in return but when the murmuring started up again she pulled away in relief. With a happy smile she entered her bedroom and quickly undressed before slipping under the covers and sidling up to her girlfriend.

"Everything, okay?" Tara asked sleepily as she felt Willow's arms come around her waist and a soft nuzzling at her neck.

"Just fine," the redhead replied with a sigh as she nestled closer, the warmth of Tara's body lulling her into sleep.

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“I meant what I said tonight, you know? Every word. I have noticed the differences in you, Spike. We all have. And it isn’t just because of the chip…heck, we both know you could’ve got around that little obstacle if you wanted to.” Buffy paused then placed her right hand on his chest over his heart, her voice growing tender as she continued, “It’s you that’s changed. Deep inside. I may have been the catalyst but the way you look after Dawn and everyone else…even Xander, although you’ll both never admit to it…well…that’s all you. You striving become a better person. A better man. And you are.” Slowly, he turned his head to stare at her in amazement and she smiled as she added, “So, of course giving you some of my blood wasn’t out of pity you dumb vampire…it was because I wanted too. Because I care. Because…I. Love. You.”

Spike’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard as he saw the truth shining back from her hazel depths. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, his dead heart fairly exploding with happiness. She meant it! She bleedin’ well meant every wonderful, bloody, word!

Buffy’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay, so not the reaction I was expecting,” she commented wryly. “I mean, I can understand you not saying anything before, you know, being all Enthralled Guy and everything but I was kind of hoping for something a little more positive this time around.”

Spike continued to stare at her with a mixture of disbelief and shock as his brain tried to comprehend the enormity of what she’d just admitted. The Slayer felt a light blush creep slowly up her face at his silent perusal. Had she just made the biggest idiot out of herself after all? “You know, you’re starting to freak me out a little here,” she informed him uncomfortably. “Have I really stunned you into silence or are you stalling before telling me that you don’t actually feel the same way about me anymore?”

He blinked in response then shook his head slightly as he came out of his daze. “Give a bloke a chance, Slayer,” he said slowly. “It’s not everyday you have your wildest dreams handed to you on a silver platter, you know. Takes a minute or two to get used to.”

Buffy felt some of the tension ease from her body as he spoke and gave him a small smile. “Are you saying that you do still feel the same, then? Because, I’ve gotta tell you…after these last couple of weeks with your whole guilt trip and the acting all distanc-y and everything…reassurance would definitely be of the good right about now.”

Spike closed his eyes briefly as if composing himself then opened them again, allowing her to see everything that he felt for her swirling within the cerulean depths. “Of course I still love you, Buffy. Never doubt that for a second." He gave a wry smile. "God knows, I've tried my damndest to stop it, mind you…but I can't. It's always going to be you. Always." Eyes never leaving hers, he took hold of the hand resting on his chest then brought her arm to his mouth and gently kissed the untidy wrap that covered her cut. “Even more so after giving me such a precious gift,” he told her unsteadily as he lowered both their arms. “You’ll never be rid of me now, love. Never.”

Buffy felt her breath hitch at the unexpected gesture then smiled softly and gently extricated her hand from his grasp. Cupping his cheek, she slowly bent forward until their faces were mere millimetres apart then paused briefly to stare deep into his eyes as she whispered fiercely, “Oh Spike, haven't you realised yet? I don’t want to be rid of you. Ever.”

Spike’s pupils dilated dramatically at her declaration and, with a quickness that belied his weakened state, he reached up and pushed his hand into her hair. Lightly gripping her head, he gave her one last searching look before closing the remaining distance between them and pressing his lips to hers in a surprisingly tender kiss.

Slowly, their mouths moved against each other in lazy measure as they relished the taste and feel of each other lips. Distant memories of previous spell induced meetings and grateful chaste offerings were replaced with the loving reality of their first, true, kiss.

"Is that enough reassurance for you, pet?" Spike asked softly when they eventually parted and he stared up into her slightly glazed eyes.

"Not nearly," she murmured before leaning in to capture his lips for a searing kiss.

Again and again their mouths met, breaking apart for scant seconds before joining once more as the heat between them grew. Their kisses became more passionate until, tentatively, Spike ran his tongue along her bottom lip, requesting an entrance that Buffy granted willingly, allowing their tongues to meet and begin an entirely new dance between them.

The tempo slowed and soon the languid thrust and parry of their erotic duel had Buffy clutch at his hair convulsively as her other hand left his face and began a downward descent across his bandaged chest and onwards to his taut abdomen. Feeling his muscles tense slightly under her touch, she instinctively began caressing the smooth skin there, moving her hand in large, excruciatingly slow circles that dipped a little lower at each pass of his waistband.

Spike moaned and gripped her head tighter, pulling her closer to him as he plundered her mouth while his body burned and hardened from her tormentingly unhurried movement. He'd never felt so alive, so turned on, so…dizzy as all hell!

Bloody, buggering crap.

Just as her hand brushed the top of his waistband, he pulled back from their kiss sharply and let go of her head to place his now free hand over his closed eyes as let his head drop heavily back onto her lap with a groan.

Buffy froze and looked down at him in concern. "Spike?" she questioned, worriedly. "You okay?"

Weakly, he nodded his head. "Just dizzy," he growled in frustration. "Right when it was getting to the good part as well. Now I know I'm damned."

The Slayer let out a sigh of relief that it wasn't anything serious but couldn't help but chuckle at his ticked off expression. "Either that, or you just need more blood," she pointed out reasonably.

At the sound of her laugh, he took his hand away from his face then opened his eyes a crack only to hastily shut them again with a grimace as her smiling features swam blearily above him. "Yeah, could be that," he agreed. "Especially since your groping around caused what little blood I do have in me to rush due south. Can't expect a vamp to stay coherent in that condition."

She was about to indignantly deny the fact that she'd been 'groping' him but the words died on her lips when she looked down to where he gestured in the general direction of his pants. There, for anyone with even the most chronic of eyesight problems to see, was the rather impressive evidence of what their impassioned kissing and her wandering hand had done.

'Wow'…with a triple helping of 'Yum,' she thought as her tongue darted out to run over her lips in anticipation of what lay beneath the black denim.

A light cough had her dragging her gaze away from his crotch and looking back up at his face. Colouring slightly, she saw that he'd opened his eyes again and was watching her reaction with a raised eyebrow and pleased smirk firmly in place.

Knowing she was busted and not caring in the slightest, a grin spread across her face and she shook her head. "You're a pig, Spike," she commented fondly as she gave his stomach a light slap.

“Wouldn’t want me any other way, Slayer,” he replied with knowing grin that quickly faded as a sudden wave of exhaustion claimed his body once more. Against his will, Spike felt his eyelids begin to droop, the emotional turmoil of the last few days, coupled with not yet having enough blood, taking its toll. “God, Buffy, I’m sorry but I’m wrecked,” he admitted with a yawn.

Seeing how tired he’d become, Buffy carefully moved out from under him and laid him gently back down on the bed. At his muttered objection, Buffy hushed him, saying, “You need to get some more rest, Spike. Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you wake up so go to sleep.”

As she looked down on him, he nodded slightly and she turned to the bedside cabinet in order to take the used mugs downstairs and rinse them out. As she reached for the tray, she was startled when Spike’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. “Thought you were staying,” he accused, eyeing her sleepily.

“I’m just going to clean these up then I’ll be back,” she replied.

“No. Stay,” he entreated with a tug on her arm. “Please.”

Buffy smiled at the beseeching look on his face and couldn’t do anything but nod. “Okay.”

Releasing his hold, he watched her walk to the other side of the bed then sit down on the edge and bend forward to take off her boots. Straightening, she looked over her shoulder at him with a smile then turned and flipped back the sheet. Bringing her legs up, she slid under the cover and drew it over herself as she stretched out on her back next to him. Letting out a sigh, she relaxed and closed her eyes in preparation for sleep.

Turning his head to look at her quiet form, he frowned. “You’re too far away,” he grumbled after a few moments silence.

“I’m lying right next to you,” she replied patiently.

“No you’re not,” he refuted sulkily. “There’s a gap.”

Buffy opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at the scant inch that separated their bodies. “It’s hardly the Grand Canyon, Spike,” she commented dryly before closing her eyes again and letting her head drop back on the pillow. “Go to sleep, I’m tired.”

He let out a huff of disapproval but fell quiet…for about two seconds. “The light’s bothering me.”

“Turn it off then.”

A tut. “Can’t you do it?”

“Spike, the lamp is right next you.”

“But I’m still feeling rough, pet. Haven’t even got the energy to lift my arm.” Silence. “Come on, Slayer, I can’t get to sleep with it shining right in my eyes like that.”

“Oh, all right!” Buffy cried throwing her hands up in defeat. Pushing up onto her left elbow, she leaned across his chest and reached over to switch of the lamp. Before she knew what hit her, his right arm was about her waist, clamping her to him and his left snaked out to flip the light off, plunging the room into darkness.

“Oh, sneaky!” Buffy exclaimed as she snuggled further into his embrace with a contented sigh. “Are you happy now?”

“Couldn’t be more so, love,” he replied as he pulled her even closer to him and dropped a kiss on top of her head.

“Good, now go to sleep.”

“Yes, pet.”

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It took a couple of days for Spike to get up to full strength again and it was during that time that he and Buffy talked everything through. She explained about how she'd come to realise her feelings for him and all about Willow's plan. That had raised a chuckle from him, especially when she talked about their disastrous date that never was.

"You see, where you went wrong was that you just weren't obvious enough," he'd told her wryly.

"Spike, I was dressed like a ho!" she'd pointed out indignantly.

"Looked like you were dressed for a normal night clubbing at the Bronze to me," he'd retorted with a shrug before letting out a pained exclamation as the Slayer slapped him upside his head.

His mood had changed then as the rest of the evening came flooding back and he had remembered when she'd got hurt. The guilt and self-hate had returned but he'd quickly reined the emotions in before they overwhelmed him as had happened in the past.

Unfortunately, just a glimpse of his previous unhappiness had caused him to pull away from her both mentally and physically. Buffy had recognised this and once more reassured him of her feelings before drawing him into a hug, refusing to allow him to wallow. It was then that she'd explained that Willow and Giles had done some more research on Fen and they had come up with the possibility that the one time Brownie might have used some magicks.

"They think that Fen may have been able to force heightened emotions within demons so that it'd make it easier for him to home in on his prey," she'd enlightened him quietly.

"So, what are saying?" Spike had replied stiffly. "That I don't really feel guilty over the Bit? Or you? That I just made it all up?"

He'd got increasingly agitated but Buffy had merely shook her head and smiled. "No, what you felt was very real, just maybe not quite at that level of intensity. That's good though, right? It means that we can work through this and move on."

He'd stared at her for a long while, digesting what she'd said and cautiously allowed the internal wall he erected to control his emotions down a little. Yes, the tumultuous emotions were still there, especially where Dawn was concerned, but Buffy had been right, they didn't seem to be anywhere near as intense as they had been.

At that realisation, he'd relaxed his tight control internally and allowed the rest of the wall to collapse. Deep down, he didn't think he'd ever really forgive himself for letting Dawn or Buffy get hurt but at least, it seemed, his feelings wouldn't be ruling him so entirely any longer.

He'd given her a hesitant smile then leaned in for a soft kiss which she'd eagerly returned. They indulged themselves for a few more minutes until Buffy had pulled back and told him firmly that they still had things to discuss. She'd then gone on to talk about the phone call to Angel. Spike had dreaded hearing about her conversation with her ex but when she finally related all the details, he couldn’t help but feel a little relieved…and amazed…at what had passed between them. He didn’t quite understand her sudden laughter as she spoke about Cordelia but grinned anyway just because she was so happy.

He, in turn, had then shared his thoughts with her. Even though she’d already heard most of what he had to say, she understood his need to tell her face to face and listened to all he had to say.

Once they had cleared up things between them, it had been time for him to face Dawn. Buffy had told him that her sister had been distraught over his guilt, believing it was her fault. It had pained Spike that she had thought this and had spoken to the girl as soon as he was able. It hadn’t taken long for Dawn to forgive him and they were soon sharing a joke and a hug, especially when she’d handed him back his cherished duster that she retrieved from the cemetery.

He’d also given his thanks to Willow and Tara for their help and then offered a stilted thanks to Giles for getting more blood and offered an even more awkward one to Xander for helping convince Spike of Buffy’s affections. There had been the barest coming together of hands as a form of handshake and then both had looked incredibly embarrassed. Shortly after, the carpenter had then made the predicted warning in regards to Spike hurting Buffy equalling a dusty end which had been wholeheartedly supported by Giles with a resounding, “Hear, hear.”

Spike had merely nodded in response. He didn’t feel the need to justify himself to them. Buffy and Dawn were all that mattered and they knew how he felt well enough.

So, all in all it had been an interesting couple of days and now, he was back at his crypt getting ready to meet up with Buffy in an hour. It was Halloween and there was a costume party at the Bronze. He’d let her cajole him into going, all the while knowing he would, simply because she’d asked him to. Naturally, he’d refused to dress up but she’d just laughed and teasingly told him that with his hair and retro dress sense, he wouldn’t need to anyway.

He’d made a token protest, which she’d quickly silenced with a blazing kiss that had left them both panting and aching for more. He had to admit, even after everything that had been said between them and the too few, incredibly hot kisses they’d shared, he still didn’t quite believe it was all actually happening.

But it was and several bruises of varying colour from self-inflicted pinches adorned his arms as proof. If he hadn't woken up as a result of them then he was either in a coma or it was real. Either way, he'd never been happier.

Stripping off his T-shirt, he rummaged around in his chest of drawers for a clean pair of jeans and his black button up shirt. Before he changed, he paused then glanced around at his bedroom and viewed the mess critically. An empty blood bag lay on the floor amongst two discarded whisky bottles, the sheets on his bed hadn't been changed in…forever and various items of dirty clothing were laying in little piles about the room.

Not the most ideal surroundings for seduction. And that’s what he had planned for tonight after the party…a long slow seduction of the Slayer that would end with the pair of them both too exhausted, and too sore, to walk.

Not wasting any time, he quickly cleaned the place up and put some new sheets he’d nicked from the local store on the bed. They weren’t the black satin he’d have liked but they would do…in a white, sturdy cotton kind of way. That done, he replaced a couple of nearly burned down pillar candles and then lit them in preparation of the night ahead. Happy with the lower part of his crypt, he then leapt up to the upper section and made short work of clearing up the mess there.

Job done, he quickly got changed then grabbed his duster and slipped it on. One last glance around and he was out of the door, striding off into the night.

END CHAPTER 15 - Part I