Chapter 8

Spike lay entertwined in the sheets, clutching Buffy to him, as he felt her heart rate slow and her breaths become even, indicating that sleep had overtaken her. He was still for a moment, enjoying the feel of her silken skin against his as she willingly lay pressed against him, something he couldn't ever remember her actually doing before. He reached for the blankets at the foot of the bad and pulled the covers over her to ward off the cold, then curled back around her. She signed softly in her sleep as he returned to her embrace and snuggled against him. Spike knew Buffy had thought he was drifting off to dreamland in the aftermath of their lovemaking, but he couldn't possibly begin to sleep, too much had just been said for him to have any peace. He needed time to process what had just happened.

She'd told him she loved him. Not straight out, but she'd finally said the words. He knew it was supposed to be a sodding role playing game and he wasn't Spike and she wasn't Buffy. He knew this was supposed to be some strange little fantasy where they were star crossed lovers who would mouth such platitudes to one another at the height of passion. But surely she knew he could see through the charade? Every word he had said to her tonight, every touch, every statement about what she meant to him was true and he hoped it was for her. She didn't have to say the things she did. She could easily have allowed him to worship and coddle her all night if that was what the game was all about.

But she hadn't. Instead she showed some genuine emotion to him in both her actions and words. She'd pleasured him first, something uncharacteristic of her unless she wanted something from him, which she hadn't tonight. She'd known he was intent on making her feel everything he could - there had been no need for her to persuade him. And she'd stayed with him, something she'd never done since that first night together. She was still here, in his arms, sleeping contentedly and trustingly.

And her words. He knew it was foolish to trust declarations in bed, but she'd never said anything like that before in their encounters. She'd rarely said anything at all to him, other then commands or occasional inarticulate moans or screams of ecstasy, and he was pressed on many occasions to even wring those from her.

She had talked about real things, not the pleasure he was bringing her, not the way she liked the swirl of his hips, the slide of his body, the play of his lips on hers. Rather she'd praised the things he'd done for her in the past to try to show his love, and them affirmed what he had so long hoped for, that a little part of her could love a little part of him. She could call him Lancelot, but he knew she saw Spike when she'd let those words slip from her lips. For the first time in several months, he had hope in his heart. She might not be ready to say those words to him directly, and she might not be willing to accept him as both man and vampire yet, but the time would come. He finally drifted off into slumber, his arms wrapped tight around his beloved Buffy, determined for a better morning after than their first night together.

******************

She awoke with a start, knowing something was unfamiliar. Buffy stared at the rock ceiling and realized there was a man's solid chest against her back, his cool arm around her waist. Spike. Deja vu, was she in that wrecked house? And then the memories flooded back. The game, the seduction and the love-making that followed. She didn't know whether to be concerned or not about what she said to him last night, but he stayed with the game, calling her Guinievere to his Lancelot, so she resolved not to worry about it for the moment.

Last night had been nearly perfect and she had promised herself the entire weekend to enjoy herself. It was only Saturday morning. As long as Spike didn't get weird on her, she wasn't willing to walk away from this quite yet. She waited for one of her InnerBuffy voices to perk up and announce she should leave because this was wrong, but decided they all must have enjoyed the previous night as well, because her internal dialogue was strangely silent. Content with her decision, she rolled over and kissed him on the cheek, then softly rubbed the tip of her nose against his until he began to twitch against her. One blue eye opened and he smiled.

"Good morning, my lady," he murmured in his husky bedroom voice that always revved her just a little, then reached over to pull her under him for an extended good morning snog.

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, **Ahh, he remembers and we're good, we're still in the fantasy world,** then gave herself over to the joys of Spike kissage.

He finally broke off the kiss and softly spoke as he nuzzled her earlobe, "Luv, is there anywhere you have to be, any," he cocked an eyebrow to emphasize the irony, "duties back at the castle?"

"No." Buffy breathed as she maneuvered to return the nuzzling. "I'm with you for the weekend."

Spike's head pulled back sharply and he stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Love, you mean it, we're....." he searched for the metaphor, "safe from the castle guards?"

"Yes, they've all gone out on the hunt and won't be back until Sunday," she replied, remembering the excuse in her dream as she reached for him again.

He suddenly sprung from the bed to her surprise and then reached back down for her. Spike pulled her into his arms and spun her around, around, around, as he danced her around the crypt to music only he can hear. Buffy feel slightly dizzy from the rapid spinning, but was pleased by his enthusiasm at her simple statement. She suddenly realized that at that moment, she was possibly happier than she had been since she came back to earth. Rather than dwell on that thought, she focused on her exuberant knight before her.

Spike finally stopped with the spinning and gently set her at the edge of the bed, then knelt before her, slowly raising one of her hands to his mouth. As he kissed her, Buffy thought they must be a ludicrous sight, both stark naked and rumpled from the previous night, with him kneeling at her feet in such a courtly pose. She ran her free hand through his hair and pulled him back up beside her.

"What do you want to do today?" she asked.

He looks at her oddly, then sighed.

"I want to see you bathed in the sunlight," he whispered, them looked down, "but for today, how about we simply stay in and enjoy one another?"

She smiled her agreement and quickly curled back in the bed with him as they slowly moved together, touching and tasting and welcoming the new day. Spike realized with relief that they had managed to avoid the bitterness and acrimony that had marked the last time they woke up in each others arms. Much like that morning in the wrecked house, there were things between them that needed to be confronted Buffy knew. But neither was quite sure what to make of it all, and both Buffy and Spike pushed their thoughts aside for the time as more enjoyable distractions presented themselves.

Chapter 9

It was about as perfect a day so far as Spike could remember, certainly since he was chipped. He had his Buffy with him, no distractions, just him and her and the rest of the world be damned for the day. He'd managed to curb his sarcasm for once and not saying anything to cause her to flee and she'd kept her insults to a minimum.

And the sex. There was none of the hit and run, slam, bam, thank you ma'am, stuff they had done in the past. Instead they'd shagged each other silly throughout the morning, punctuated by cuddling while they talked and laughed and explored one another. He considered whether he needed to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming and the thought had flitted across his mind more than once that Red must have fallen off the wagon and caused another spell to go wonky, because he had never been with this Buffy before. He wondered, if it was a spell, if he could convince her not to reverse it, because he really liked this version. It was something like having the Bot, in the sense that she was open and kind to him, but so much better, because this was the real thing, complete with her edge and wit, her underlying insecurities and fears, and the beauty of her smile that the Bot had never quite been able to replicate.

He stared down at her, lost in his thoughts, as she pulled him down for another long lingering kiss. They'd just completed another round where the more passive Buffy from last night had reasserted herself, but he didn't feel used like he normally did. As their tongues tangled around one another, he heard an odd gurgling noise. Buffy started giggling against his mouth.

"What was that?" she smirked at him.

"Ha, bloody, ha - it's my stomach rumbling, pet. Must be the proximity to all that luscious, warm, pumping Slayer blood." He leered at her and swiped his tongue up the vein in her neck.

Buffy knew she should probably be repulsed, he was after all talking about her blood as food as he ran his mouth over her jugular, but instead she realized she was a little turned on, again. **Geez, Buffy, since when did you want to become a buffet for the undead?** But she couldn't help but remember the connection she had felt when Angel had sunk his fangs in her, and not in a gentle way, almost draining her dry. She'd bet Spike would be much more gentle than that and could take just a little if she let him.

Suddenly, she realized where this train of thought was going. **Whoa, Buffy, what are you thinking, you can't let him bite you!** She jerked back to reality as she realized he was still lightly licking her throat in what she had to admit was a very non-threatening and arousing manner. **Wait, is he putting me under some sort of thrall? Is this how they lure a victim in?** She jerked his head back, harder than she meant to, and rolled to the other side of the bed, panting heavily, refusing to look at him. Spike sighed, realizing he'd crossed a line he shouldn't have. But at least she hadn't punched him, or run away. He needed to repair this situation, and fast.

"Luv, wait here a minute, I have something for you." With that, he turned and strode up the stairs to the top of his crypt. Buffy waited, thoughts racing as she paced around the lower half of his crypt. Part of her wanted to leave right now and forget this weird game she'd come up with. He was a vampire. He would drink her blood if he could.

But that was the thing. He could drink her blood. She was the one person in the world he could bite with no pain and he'd held her all night long, twice now, while she slept. And he'd never touched her, never tried to bite her. She sighed. She knew he'd just been playing with her now as he licked at her neck. She was pretty sure he wouldn't turn her down if she were to offer her blood. But that's what it would take, her free will offer, for him to do that to her. She realized that she trusted him with this and reassured, she returned to the bed, wrapping herself in the sheet sarong style as she waited for his return with whatever he'd run off for.

He surprised her when he returned with the peace offering of the stash of snacks he gotten for her. She realized his wasn't the only stomach rumbling and she grabbed some fruit and a water from the bundle he placed in front of her. They sat in companionable silence, not really looking at one another, as he'd drank his blood and she polished off some more food. He finally broke the silence with an apology.

"Bu...... Guinievere, I didn't mean to frighten you." He started and stopped as her fingers settled against his mouth.

"It's all right, I know," she told him, then replaced her fingers for a soft, light kiss. As she pulled back, she grinned at him.

"How about I kick you butt in a little friendly game of cards?" She pulled the deck she had found laying on his bookshelf out from under the covers and waved them in front of him, lightening the mood.

Spike smirked at her as he felt the earlier tension lift. "Well, luv, what are the stakes? I don't play for peanuts."

He knew he'd beat her. He had years of experience and he doubted Buffy knew much beyond the basics. She smirked back and announced the winner had to answer whatever question the loser wanted honestly.

Spike agreed to the bet and dealt the first hand. As he'd suspected, she was bloody awful, with no poker face, but as the game proceeded, she kept shifting and fidgeting, and the sheet wrapped around her started a slow slide that soon left her top bare to his gaze. Despite the fact he'd spent a good deal of the morning in contact with said bosom, he found himself paying more attention to her perky nipples, which had hardened as he watched, than to the cards in his hand. She won the round. He narrowed his eyes as he realized her little strategy, and decided to bring his own assets into play.

As he dealt the next hand, he flexed his muscles and posed himself across the bed, trailing his hand across his chest and well defined abs as he discarded a pair and reached to draw two cards from the deck. He felt some triumph at the slightly glazed look in Buffy's eyes as she followed his hand but then realized he had accomplished very little. As she also requested two cards, she raised up, shimmying slightly as she reached for the cards from him, a completely unnecessary gesture, but one which caused the sheet to fall from her totally, leaving her nude body stretching across towards him entirely exposed. He blanked out entirely as he handed her the cards and lost that hand as well.

**All right Spike, bring out the big guns, er gun,** he thought to himself as he prepared the next hand. He rapidly dealt the cards, but before he could decide his next move, he was distracted by the soft moan from the other side of the bed. Buffy was staring intently at the cards in her hand, as though the answers to the world were written in which she should keep and which she should discard. But despite her apparent concentration on that hand, he found his mouth grow dry as he watched what her other was doing. She was slowly massaging the nipple of one breast that he had admired earlier, lightly pulling on the small nub, small murmurs of pleasure escaping from her throat as she did so. He continued to watch in fascination, game completely forgotten, as she moved to tease her other nipple in a similar fashion, all the while staring intently at the cards.

Buffy watched out of the corner of her eye at Spike's rapt attention on her. She knew she almost had him, and hoped he would jump her pretty soon and admit she'd won her little game. Besides, she was so ready for him. She was going to have to make him watch more often, this was actually kind of fun to see him get all hot and bothered from watching her. She prepared for the deal sealer as she let her hand drift from her breasts southward and slid two finders between her legs, letting out a slow moan as she did so.

She didn't have to wait long, because she felt the cards go flying as Spike leaped across the bed and pounced on her. She heard his low growl as he pulled her hand up and licked her fingers clean, then replace them with him much larger cock, driving himself in to her hot depths in one stroke as she gripped him tightly. Her climax was not long in coming and his followed on her heels as Buffy broke into uncontrollable giggles.

Spike lifted his head from his comfortable resting spot on her breasts where he had collapsed.

"What's so funny, kitten?"

"Nothing," Buffy replied, "I'm pretty sure I just won, but I think we both got the prize."

He smiled back and pecked her lips, then decided to pay up. How bad could a little Q & A be? He could always find ways to distract her if things got uncomfortable. He propped himself against the headboard, pulled her onto his lap and took a deep breath. "All right, luv, what do you want to know?"

She stroked his cheek and he was surprised when she asked him to tell her about Lancelot when he was a little boy. That wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting, but suddenly, he realized that he was fine with her knowing more about William, as least something about the man he'd been. So he obliged her, telling her about his younger sister, the small home they shared with their parents, his first year at university. She laughed at some of the tales, grew sad when he told her about his sister's early passing.

Spike looked down at the bundle in his lap and realized how little he knew about her early days as well. He'd seen some of the albums of photos during that horrible summer after her death, but there were a lot of things Nibblet hadn't wanted to talk about. So he asked her the same question. She told him about her life pre-Sunnydale, her Dorothy Hamill obsession, her strange planted memories of Dawn that all seemed to fit, her parent's painful divorce, the trouble she'd started to have in school as her popularity had faded in light of her calling.

After a time, they both drifted into a comfortable silence as he continued to hold her close, sliding a hand up and down her spine, until he finally broke the quiet by commenting that nightfall was coming soon. She pulled away at that statement and shooed him up the stairs. He was a little confused by her directive, but obeyed after she mumbled something about needing a drink because she was so parched.

As he mounted the stairs he could hear her meandering humming as she dug into the bag she had brought with her. She sounded happy, they'd patched up his little faux pas early, so what was she up to? Was she dressing? Was she leaving? Why now? She had promised him until tomorrow. Had he frightened her somehow? He thought William was a pretty frightful little poof, but she'd seemed to enjoy the tales. He quickly retrieved a bottle of water and the wine, along with a few glasses, and descended again to see what she was doing.

At the sight that greeted him, he almost broke that bottle he'd been carrying. Buffy stood before him in a pale champagne colored negligee, looking like a goddess. She had brushed her hair out and it lay like spun gold around her face. He knew that if he hadn't already loved her more than unlife itself, he would have been her slave from that moment on. Somehow, the simple negligee managed to made her look both virginal and seductive at the same time. A shy smile graced her face as she looked up at him and asked quietly, "Do you like it?"

Spike carefully set down the wine and water and walked to take her in his arms. He came very close to calling her Buffy, but remembered in time and reverted to his assigned role to keep this fantasy going a little longer.

"You're not my Guinevere, you're Aphrodite, my love goddess. I would never have believed I would rather see you clothed, but you look so bloody amazing, my sweetheart."

She dimpled and seemed to be pleased with the compliments as he backed her towards the bed and leaned her against the bedpost, drawing her in for a slow kiss as he rucked her gown up to her waist. He sank to his knees as he held her in place and immediately buried his face in her moist heat. The feel of the gown sliding down and cocooning him between her thighs almost made Spike feel drunk and dizzy with the heady taste of her in his mouth. He'd been hard from the moment he saw her, and his first instinct had been to sink himself into this beautiful creature who seemed to want to please him and stay there forever, feeling her muscles drawing him into heaven. But he knew it would be so much better this way.

The combination of the taste of her liquid essence in his mouth, the soft steel of her thighs clasped around him, the breathy moans he could hear her making as she urged him on, the feel of her tight bud quivering under his tongue, all combined to send him into sensory overload. The only thing that could have possibly have improved the moment was for her to have granted permission to taste her, just once, a tiny sip of her blood to mix with the rest of her essence. He persisted until she came, her inner muscles clutching around his fingers so tightly he thought they might break. As he pulled himself from under her gown, he was treated to the sight of his Buffy, flushed and glowing, looking as though he was the only thing in the world she could see at that moment.

She wasted no time but pulled him up and pushed him onto the bed, mounting him, sinking slowly on his hard as nails cock. He watched as she rode him, eyes mostly closed, yet flickering open to watch his face from time to time as he massaged her breasts. She quickened her pace again as he worked his hand under the pool of silk of the negligee and teased her until she came, as he followed close behind. Buffy collapsed against his chest, holding him to her and sighing as she drifted to sleep. He was sure he heard her murmur, "Love you," as she drifted off, and this time, she didn't say Lancelot. He tucked that thought away, and pulled her tight as he followed her into the arms of Morpheus.

*********************

They awoke several times more during the night and continued to make love to each other, a slight feeling of desperation gripping both as the hours slipped towards dawn. Sometimes their coupling was faster, sometimes slower, but the emotions and connections between them remained strong, even though they both refrained from any verbal expressions of what they were feeling.

Spike no longer felt as though he was servicing her or a toy she could use to get off with. He realized that he was a man to her for that night, someone she wanted, someone she could love. And he knew that what they had shared was something so powerful that he would never be the same. He was more than a little afraid that wasn't the case for her, and that when the harsh light of day broke, she would turn on the denial she had perfected to an art. But something deep inside wanted to try to keep this spark alive between them, and he slipped from the bed to grab pen and paper before his idea slipped away, leaving her curled in his bed.

He returned to her warmth as soon he could, still unsure about what he'd done. At some point while he was gone, she'd stripped off the gown so there was nothing between them now as he brought her back into his arms. They lay pressed together, flesh to flesh, from shoulder to ankle, as close as they could get, neither saying a word.

As morning neared, he pulled her leg over his and angled their bodies so he could slide deep within her. He knew she would have to leave soon, and he wanted one more time to remember, in case they never played this game again. He took her slowly, making each move, each thrust, each slide of body against body count, until they both reached long, deep orgasms that shimmered through them. He could hear her quiet sobs as they slowly came down and he kissed her face over and over.

He didn't need to ask why she was crying. He knew and he wanted to weep with her for what had been and might never be again. But the Big Bad didn't cry, even if he felt he'd lose a part of himself forever when she walked out after tonight, a part he wasn't sure she'd ever return. Parting was sweet sorrow and the lark would soon sing and this little idyll would be over and she would be gone. He pulled her close and stroked her back as they drifted off one last time.

*************************

Buffy slowly opened her eyes and realized time was up. Game over. She looked at his face, softened in slumber next to her and reached over to softly touch his lips.

His eyes opened and he knew the answer as he asked the question. "So you're going then?"

She nodded, not really trusting herself to speak. Buffy was afraid if she kissed him or touched him again she would lose the battle, break down in front of him and sob out that she hated this ridiculous game she'd made them play. She was so stupid to think she could solve anything this way. He'd made her feel more love and more alive than she ever had, and this vampire wasn't supposed to make her feel those things, wasn't supposed to be capable of feeling those things himself.

She turned away from him before she broke down and left the bed. Buffy mechanically pulled her clothes from the duffle, a simple pair of jeans and a top. She carefully folded the sundress and underwear he'd left laying on the chair, but noticed that he was holding the negligee she discarded on the bed.

"Love, can I keep this?" he swallowed, staring down at the gown and not meeting her gaze.

She nodded. Taking it with her would only bring back too many memories she wasn't sure she could bottle up. She knew for a fact she could never wear that particular garment for another man. Buffy walked over to Spike, still lying on the bed, and stood before him, not touching him, just being with him, breathing him in one last time.

"I have something for you," he said and reached under his pillow for a slim envelope. That explained where he'd gone to in the night, Buffy thought. She took the missive, which had Guinevere written on the front in his somewhat old-fashioned script.

"Read it when you get home."

She nodded yet again, still unsure of her ability to use words.

"Right then, I'll walk you out." Spike rose from the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, then put his hand on the small of her back and walked her to the door in the upper portion of his crypt. They stopped just short of the reach of the rays of the early morning light and Spike dropped to his knees before her, much like he had when he'd first greeted her in the graveyard.

Buffy bit her lip so hard she could feel the skin break as she stared down at his beautiful face. He presented such a different picture to her now, his hair rumpled from her caresses, his eyes still soft and loving, not hard and cold as they could be at times. She dared to reach out and run one finger along his sharp cheekbone as he reached to take her hands in his.

Spike waited until she met his eyes, then prepared to speak, trying hard to keep the waver out of his voice. He had to get this right, had to make her see that no matter what, she could always come back to him. He cleared his throat and began.

"Guinevere, you know I love you with all my heart. I know that I'm not worthy of you. But, luv, please remember, I may be a dark knight but I'm yours to command, whenever and wherever. Whatever you need, love, affection, sex, an ear to listen, someone to play with or someone to cry with, I'm yours, until the end of the world."

He refused to meet her eyes again, just dropped a quick kiss on both her hands, then turned and descended into the lower half of the crypt without looking back.

Chapter 10

Buffy stumbled out the door and started home on shaky legs, still not entirely sure what had happened in those final moments. The quiet declaration followed by the quick exit wasn't really Spike's style. She had thought he might make a scene or at least try to coax her into staying for one more round, but he hadn't. In fact, he'd been almost distant and detached, despite his words.

Slightly confused, she looked down at the hands he had just kissed and the letter she still carried that he had written her. She wanted to read what he'd written, see if it answered her questions or made things more confusing, but she needed to get home before the others returned and discovered her absence. She tucked the letter away and started towards Revello Drive in the early morning light.

****************

Her first stop when she reached home was the bath, knowing she was probably quite fragrant with the combined odors of him and her and their lovemaking all over her body. As she showered, she found a few tears rolling down her cheeks as she remembered the touches and caresses and incredible closeness of the weekend that was now gone. Buffy stepped from the shower and took a deep breath, shoving the memories aside for later contemplation and steeling herself to present a perkiness to Dawn and Willow as they returned.

She had just finished her makeup and descended to the basement to load the first round of laundry when she heard the front door open.

"Buffy, you home?" Willow called.

"Down here," she replied, adding the capful of detergent and setting the machine in motion.

She ascended the steps to find Willow in the kitchen.

"Hey Will, have a good weekend with the parents?"

Willow nodded. "OK, I guess. We did the usual, avoiding anything really important and focusing on my schoolwork, major, where I should think about for grad school."

She sighed. "Buffy, sometimes, I don't even know if this is what I want anymore. I mean it's like I don't know who I'm supposed to be. I really thought I had a handle on things, I was finally getting comfortable with myself, then bam, the magic blew up in my face, Tara left me and I'm not even doing that great in school any more, since I've missed so much class. It's like I'm just empty Willow now."

She paused, hesitant to ask the next question. "Buffy, I know you've been talking to Tara some. How is she? Does she ever ask about me?"

"Willow, she misses you."

As Buffy responded to Willow's concerns, she couldn't help but wish she could spill to her best friend in the same way and receive some comfort herself. She remembered how they used to discuss her love life, with Angel, then Riley, even Parker. Willow had always been supportive of her.

She was very confused about what she'd done with her weekend and she desperately felt the need for some advice. If she told Willow, would she get angry or attack her for being with Spike? Willow knew what unconventional relationships were like.

"She doesn't say things directly, but I know she worries about you still. You just have to give it time and earn back her trust. You really shook her up with the magic tricks." Buffy continued,

And there it was, the reason she couldn't tell Willow. Trust. She wasn't sure who she trusted and who would still trust her if they knew all her dirty little secrets. Willow, Xander, even Giles over in merry olde England. She didn't know who would support her and who would turn on her for what she'd done.

So when Willow asked her about her weekend, she deflected the question with a general response. "Oh, I hung around, played some cards, watched some TV, you know, vegged a little."

Willow accepted her answer without comment, and Buffy felt a little relived. She wasn't ready to discuss this yet, even with her best friend. She wasn't sure she even knew how to verbalize what had happened, what she'd felt, and the tentative connection that might or might not be there.

The day passed as she finishing some other light housekeeping, made inroads into the dirty laundry and finally settled down to wait for Dawn's return. She soon found herself lost in a flashback to the previous day, when Spike had trapped her underneath him, and forced her to listen to his unbelievably horrible repertoire of vampire jokes.

**************

"All right pet, how about this one... What do you call a dog owned by a vampire?"

She'd grimaced and frowned, as he lightly goosed her ribs.

"A blood hound, get it?"

She'd groaned, but he'd been on a roll.

"What was the Californian hippie vampire like?"

She'd shrugged, sure the answer was ridiculous and was correct, as he tried to fake his "friend of Xander" accent.

"He was ghoul man, ghoul. Wait, wait, one last one."

She'd giggled and squirmed against him, relishing the feel of his smooth skin against hers and the chance to laugh and have fun in bed. "What's a vampire's favorite food?" His voice had returned to that sexy British accent as he stared deep in her eyes.

"Um.. Blood?" ventured Buffy.

He'd grinned. "No, neck-tarines," he'd announced as he dived to nuzzle that portion of her anatomy.

She'd gasped a little, but realized he was still in play mode as he continued to tickle her lightly, She'd begun to return the torture, finding out Spike had more than one sensitive spot, until they'd eventually changed to more seductive caresses and....

************

The door slammed as Buffy jumped slightly to see Dawn staring at her strangely.

"Jeez Buffy, off in la-la land?"

Buffy attempted to regain her composure and hide the fact that she was likely blushing from Dawn. "Dawnie, you're home - did you have a good time at the lake?"

"Yeah, it was great and Karen's cousins were way cool. We had a good time and I did all my homework." She proudly displayed the completed assignments for Buffy's perusal.

"That's good Dawn. I'm glad you had a nice weekend."

"What about you, what'd you do here all by yourself?"

Buffy felt the blush start to rise again as some X-rated thoughts of the weekend flitted quickly though her mind, and tried to shrug nonchalantly.

"You know, just hung out, enjoyed the peace and quiet."

Dawn grabbed her travel bag and started up the stairs to call Janice and gloat about her weekend. "That's great Buffy, I'm gonna go unpack. Thanks again for letting me go this weekend, you're the best."

Buffy stood and stretched. She'd do a quick patrol, in cemeteries other than Spike's, then an early bedtime for her. She really hadn't got much sleep this weekend.

**************

Patrol was uneventful for the most part and Buffy took down the few new risers quite quickly. She decided things were quiet enough that she could call it a night and feel okay about her sacred duty. And she could finally read that letter she'd been both anticipating and dreading all day.

What would Spike have written her? Did he already have another game in mind? She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to play again, but she thought she might.

Or would he ruin things and make some ultimatum to her? Love him or leave him? She really hoped not. She sighed and unlocked the front door and mounted the steps to her room.

The house was quiet, she suspected that Willow and Dawn were both already asleep. She closed the door softly, then for good measure locked it as well. She slipped out of her patrol clothes, pulled on her pajama pants and tank top, then settled into the bed, pulling the envelope from beneath her pillow where she'd stashed it. Looking at the envelope with the scrawling script on the front for a long moment, she turned it over and opened it up, pulling out a piece of paper covered in the same script. She began to read the poem it contained.

---------------------------------------

Sir Launcelot And Queen Guinevere

Like souls that balance joy and pain,

With tears and smiles from heaven again

The maiden Spring upon the plain

Came in a sunlit fall of rain.

In crystal vapor everywhere

Blue isles of heaven laugh'd between,

And far, in forest-deeps unseen,

The topmost elm-tree gather'd green

From draughts of balmy air.

Sometimes the linnet piped his song;

Sometimes the throstle whistled strong;

Sometimes the sparhawk, wheel'd along,

Hush'd all the groves from fear of wrong;

By grassy capes with fuller sound

In curves the yellowing river ran,

And drooping chestnut-buds began

To spread into the perfect fan,

Above the teeming ground.

Then, in the boyhood of the year,

Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere

Rode thro' the coverts of the deer,

With blissful treble ringing clear.

She seem'd a part of joyous Spring;

A gown of grass-green silk she wore,Buckled withh golden clasps before;

A light-green tuft of plumes she bore

Closed in a golden ring.

Now on some twisted ivy-net,

Now by some tinkling rivulet,

In mosses mixt withh violet

Her cream-white mule his pastern set;

And fleeter now she skimm'd the plains

Than she whose elfin prancer springs

By night to eery warblings,

When all the glimmering moorland rings

With jingling bridle-reins.

As she fled fast thro' sun and shade,

The happy winds upon her play'd,

Blowing the ringlet from the braid.

She look'd so lovely, as she sway'd

The rein with dainty finger-tips,

A man had given all other bliss,

And all his worldly worth for this,

To waste his whole heart in one kiss

Upon her perfect lips.

My Dearest Buffy,

Poetry has never been my gift. I wish I had the words to properly tell you how I feel, but I have robbed Tennyson for expressions far more melodious than mine.

Thank you for this weekend and this game. I have wanted nothing more than a chance to love and cherish you, if only for a few short days and nights, for longer than I care to admit. You are as all-encompassing to me as Guinevere was to Lancelot. Buffy, I would truly give up all other bliss, everything I am, for you. You've made me a better monster and a better man.

I know there was something between us this weekend. I felt something changing in you. Please, my lady, give us a chance. I'm not what I was and I can become so much more, if you'll only be my guide.

Your Knight,

Spike

-------------------------------

The emotions she had managed to stifle for most of the day ripped through her as she gripped the sheet of paper in her hand and read his words a second time. And slowly the realization sunk in that she was a fool for coming up with that game and dragging these issues out for both of them. Why had she ever imagined that she could disguise Spike's feeling and her feelings by calling each other some other name?

He was right, as he usually was in reading her. Something had changed in her, a little. He'd held her, made love to her, cherished her in a way she hadn't known was possible until this weekend and she had responded in kind.

But did she love him? Could she love him? She was afraid of the answer to that question. She could hear her inner voices begin their internal dialogue.

NormalBuffy argued that she could love him and could build on what had just happened between them. He was a man and she was a woman and they clearly had chemistry and common interests. In all honesty, no one had ever made her feel quite like she did with Spike before. Maybe this was the real thing. But was she still just caught up in the afterglow of the romance? Were any of those feelings real?

SlayerBuffy insisted that she didn't love him, at least not all of him, and probably never could. He was a vampire, the thing she was chosen to fight and destroy. He might not be killing anymore but he was still a demon. A Slayer did not have a relationship with a vampire, even a chipped one.

And deep down was the worst fear of all, one she recognized but almost couldn't name. She was incapable of truly loving anyone. But that concept was too painful to explore and she quickly moved on.

Maybe the answer was to not answer. Maybe there was no answer. Her mind raced. She knew all the arguments by heart, but she didn't really know what was in her heart.

Suddenly, she was angry with him. He'd broken the rules of the game. It wasn't suppose to intrude into real life, it wasn't supposed to leave his crypt, that den of debauchery where she could hide from the rest of the world and block out reality. It wasn't supposed to be real and messy and hard. But he'd brought in out in the open and was calling her on her bluff.

She understood now his parting words. He had wanted to reassure her that he was still there for her even if she once again refused his offer of a real relationship. He'd still be a shoulder to cry on, a punching-bag, a quick physical release for her.

But it wouldn't be the same. She'd felt how good it could be between them and knew it was never going to be quite the same again. And it could be so much more. That thought danced elusively through her head, taunting her with the possibilities.

Buffy tossed and turned until the wee hours of the morning until she realized what she had to do. She snapped on her light and read the poem one final time, feeling foolish as she softly kissed the paper. Then she ripped the letter to shreds.

She'd made up her mind to take the coward's way out. The answer was not to answer. The only way to handle this was to pretend it never happened and let things return to normal. Spike, for all his pretty poetry and language and actions and love, was still a vampire without a soul and if his chip ever failed, she couldn't take the chance. She couldn't be his moral compass, because frankly, at times she doubted hers. Couldn't risk the possibility of another Angel situation, where she would have to sacrifice her love for the world.

She didn't think she had the strength to do it again. She wasn't sure that if the time came, she could look into those expressive blue orbs and strike the killing blow. So she shouldn't take the chance. Couldn't love him with all her heart.

But how could she face him again? She wasn't sure she could give him up entirely, but this made things awkward, despite his reassurances. She almost couldn't imagine life without him in it. He'd been the one person she'd run to ever since she'd returned. She decided she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

Maybe she could slowly decrease their contact, start patrolling at odd times to avoid him, hang out with her friends more, go Bronzing, make buddies at work, get some other support structures. That was the strategy. After all, hadn't that been the point of the little game, feel some emotions so she could reconnect with humanity, not her undead knight?

Buffy rolled over and stared at the clock as the hours ticked by and sleep refused to come. She felt no contentment at her decision, but there was really no other choice. She was such a fool. The possibilities for happiness, the potential for love, it had all been so close and she should have known better, should have known that those things weren't meant for a Slayer. So now she'd have to pay the price and deal with the pain. As she rolled over to try for sleep one final time, a deep sadness overwhelmed her and she allowed herself one last cry as she let go of the budding love that had blossomed inside her. It's better this way became the mantra she chanted as sleep finally claimed her.

***************

Spike lay on his bed, chain smoking as he stared at the ceiling. Maybe the letter had been a mistake. Maybe he had pushed too hard. Maybe he should have just let her leave. But he didn't know the outcome yet and he would hang on to hope as long as he could.

He stroked the negligee that lay draped across his torso. Maybe she wouldn't come running back with open arms and drag him off to "meet the scoobies", but he knew something had changed and he was determined to follow up while the iron was hot.

Chapter 11

Buffy sighed as she entered her way home from another horrendous night at the DMP. Huh, she realized that almost made out Dump, ironically. Her brief encounter with a vamp in the graveyard who'd ridiculed her odor had done nothing for her self esteem either. So finding Spike lurking under the big tree in her front yard for the first time since that weekend had been problematic.

She recognized why she gave into him, she was vulnerable and her dark knight knew how to make her feel better about herself. He hadn't mentioned the letter to her, hadn't pushed for a declaration at first, just given her that deep look and then proceeded to take her on the ground in a mixture of tenderness and roughness that pulled her feelings back and forth.

He had been gentle initially, softly touching her, sliding his hands beneath her voluminous coat and sweater to rub her nipples into hard little points that he twisted and turned as her breathing increased. But the sweet nothings from before were gone, his language was rude and degrading and a little exciting to that dark part of her as he quickly slipped her pants down just enough to slide himself home. She thought both of them must have been on edge, because it was over quickly and she was left feeling possibly lower than before they began. He had helped her to her feet, dusted her off, and finally asked the question.

"Did you read the letter?" He had given her one last long William look, face filled with expectancy to see if maybe she had somehow been persuaded by his prose and had just neglected to mention it before their hasty coupling. Buffy sighed and turned and marched into the house, refusing to answer. She couldn't face the question.

Her week had gone down hill from there. The reappearance of Riley, so soon after her weekend with Spike, had given her the perfect point of comparison - nice, normal, GI Joe, complete with weapons versus creature of the night, who broke the rules and gave her crowns of flowers and sweet verse. So she'd flirted and giggled and tried to find the spark she thought maybe she'd had with him before he left. And then the wife had shown up and the comedy of errors had begun in earnest.

She'd made a fool of herself by running to Spike, but she need reassurance and he was her champion, right? He'd promised to be her willing slave and she needed to believe in his love more than ever at that moment. And it had worked for a little while. She knew he'd been angry when she'd left him outside her house, but he welcomed her with open arms and reassured her of his love. Their coupling had been much like that weekend, slow and reassuring and she had fallen asleep beside him, tired, but more secure.

Until her ex caught with her current and the house of cards came down. Somewhere in the midst of the male posturing and threats and exploding demony things, Buffy had taken in Spike's words and tears as he'd screamed at her, "That's bloody funny, coming from you? No games? That's all you've ever done is play me, and keep playing with rules you make up as you like! You know what I am -- you've always known and you come to me all the same!"

And that's when it had hit her. For all her rationalizations, she had done the unforgivable again. She had thought that her little game might give them both something, but she knew now that it was only killing them both. She had begged Tara to not forgive her, and she knew she couldn't forgive herself if she didn't stop this now.

She'd been horrified when she'd returned to see the state of the crypt that had been the scene of their beautiful tryst so recently. It had only strengthened her resolve as she admitted to being weak and selfish and tried to make him understand that this was for the best, but that frail look, the opposite of that joyous expression she'd seen before, had made her try to soften the blow.

"I'm sorry, William."

And then she'd left.

Spike just stared after her for what seemed like an eternity and then collapsed to the floor of the crypt weeping. What had he done wrong? How could he fix it? He wasn't sure, but he knew, he knew that deep inside she could love him. He'd seen it and he knew it was there, just locked back so tight by the appearance of Soldier Boy and the judgmental fears of her friends that it couldn't come out. But it was there and he would find a way.

Chapter 12

October 2002

As Buffy lay on the roof of the crypt where so much of the past events had played out, she pondered what to do. She had tried to move on over the summer and she'd succeeded to a large degree. She still wasn't entirely sure she could trust Spike, because of what had happened in the bathroom that night she couldn't forget, but the enormousness of his actions since then staggered her.

He'd gotten a soul. The one thing besides a chip that could guide and shape his actions. He'd gotten it for her, to be the man she needed. She breathed deeply. That had to be the most flattering thing anyone had ever done for her and she supposed it proved even more that Spike was her Lancelot. Questing after the Holy Grail for his lady love.

She'd taken to reading the legends about the two lovers over the summer and was disturbed at some of the parallels. Guinevere, in many of those tales, had treated Lancelot much as she had treated Spike, taking his adoration, using him, then shunning him when not in secret. He on the other hand, was nearly always described as incredibly head over heels in love with her, willing to do anything for her.

Had she really been that way? She knew she had. She'd beaten him, used him, and in the process of the little game they'd played, likely nearly stomped all over his heart. She still remembered those whispered endearments and I love you's that had been exchanged and she knew that they had both tried to violate the other. He went after her physically, but she had violated him mentally and emotionally. They both had a very long way to go, but maybe, just maybe, there were bricks to rebuild with.

************************

Spike wandered in the moonlit, stopping before the doors to his old crypt. He didn't really want to go in there. He suspected Clem was still holding the quarters, but he simply wasn't feeling sociable tonight. Perhaps Buffy was right, as he had moved away from the school, he had felt more clear headed, though the underlying struggle between his soul and demon had remained, but quieter now.

He lowered himself to the stoop of the crypt and remembered all the reasons he should never go near her again, other than to be of aid to her in fighting the forces of darkness. He was unworthy. He had found the Grail, but it had failed to redeem him for his crimes and purify him, if anything it had only highlighted them for him.

And underneath, his demon, or maybe even the new soul, felt a little resentment at her, for all the things she'd put him through. The emotional roller coaster of the last year, the kiss me, kill me, love me, hate me, back and forth had been enough to drive him nearly insane before he went to Africa. But there was something about her now which suggested she was different, that she had some clue as to what failings had been committed on both sides.

He mused quietly, then started as he heard something drop to the ground on the side of the crypt. He stood quietly, ready to pounce, when Buffy rounded the crypt.

"Spike," she squeaked and flushed. "I didn't think you wanted to come back here."

"I didn't, not permanently. I just was taking a walk to clear my head and found myself here."

"That's what I was doing to. Spike, will you walk with me, just for a little while? Please?"

He heard the echo of her earlier words and he shrugged but followed.

Chapter 13

She led the way until they reached the one place he didn't want to be with her. The bittersweet memories that had replayed over and over in his mind rushed back as she sat on the bench where he had placed the crown on her head so many months ago.

He started to back away, but stopped at her words.

"Spike, I need you to come home with me."

He turned and watched her face, knowing he needed to reassure her of his tenuous grip on sanity and then get away before he did something foolish.

"Love, no. Buffy, I'll be fine, you needn't worry about me. I can keep it together down there enough that I can still be useful when you need me."

"What if I need you all of the time?"

Buffy looked at him, hazel eyes wide. Spike was taken aback.

"Buffy, you don't need me all the time, just when you're fighting demons and whatnot."

"Oh no, Spike, I do need you more than that."

She rose from the seat and stopped directly in front of him, close but not quite in his personal space.

"I need to tell you something. Spike, I need your forgiveness. Will your soul allow you to forgive me? I know I hurt you last year. It wasn't what I meant to do, it wasn't a big scheme, but that weekend we spent together wasn't just about a tumble and a few moments pleasure. It was real and you were right, I did feel something. I think I first realized I was falling in love with you that weekend. But I freaked when I saw Riley's perfect life and our unconventional relationship and I screwed up."

He stared down at her, wondering if this was some sort of hallucination, because he thought she'd just said she was falling in love with him. But she kept going.

"Spike, I'm working on forgiving you for what happened between us. I know that you regret it now, and I know you won't do it again. It hurts, because despite what I said that night, I honestly did trust you, at least, I trusted you would never hurt me. But every day I see you, every time we talk, I regain my trust a little more. You were a good man, by all accounts, you were always honest, even with the demon unfettered, and I know you're top of my list of souled vamps. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to try to make things right, if you're still willing."

Spike could only stare down at her for a long minute. He was sure now she was some hallucination that would disappear like a mirage before his eyes. He blinked, but she remained before him. Her face was open, but he could tell that the longer he hesitated, the more frightened she looked. Suddenly, he felt his soul sing for the first time and his face lit up as he fully realized what she was offering - a true chance to love her and to be loved in return. And suddenly, the madness, the struggle seemed to recede as his soul gained control and quieted the torment.

"Buffy, I forgive you. It's in the past and I'm happy for you to put it behind you. I know you were confused last year and I should never have tried to drag you into the darkness, or force you to love me when you weren't ready."

Slowly, he drew her hands into his. She felt slightly dizzy at the joy on his face as he looked down at her, overwhelmed that he was so willing to offer his forgiveness and grant her the chance at love.

"I love you with all my heart, pet. I know we can't be what we were before, but maybe we can be something better. We just need to take things slowly this time."

He kissed her hand, then turned her palms over, planting a kiss in each, then curling her hands into fists. He paused and smiled the William smile at her.

"Right then, take me home."

Chapter 14

She had installed him in the basement when they had reached her house, both hesitant and nervous that where they wanted to go would require time and patience, not the mad passion they had shared before. But as she entered her room, she couldn't resist one final token before sleep claimed her.

Ever since she had found the poem in one of Willow's anthologies from her British lit classes, she'd known that Spike would understand the words and that there was no better way to begin again. She looked one final time at the poem she had copied, then tucked it in the pale cream envelope, from the same stationary as that first note those many months ago. Quietly, she crept down the stairs and slid the envelope under the door and onto the top step leading to the basement.

Spike raised his head at the soft slithering sound and immediately was up the stairs to investigate. He spied the envelope laying on the step and drew in an unnecessary breath. She had written him a note. On the same paper as the one which introduced the game that had driven him to get a soul, to be worthy of her. He plucked it off the step and hastily opened it.

Guinevere To Lancelot

H. C. C.

The night is here, and thou art with me still,

Loved one, although beyond the reach of hands

Eager to clasp thee; and I long to fill

Again this soul more dry than desert sands

Now thou art gone, with the deep-flowing streams

Of thy most gracious presence. Soon it will

Return all life-like in the land of dreams.

How shall our struggling hearts, so many years

As may perchance be thine and mine, sweet Love,

Out-face this ceaseless storm of hopes and fears,

For aye within us, round, below, above?Oh ask me not; for whether joy or tears

Remain for us, we must bear silently,

Dearest, and with a love that cannot die.

How do the angels reason of our love?

And those blest spirits that are gone before,

Who, now rejoicing in their place above,

Walked with us on this melancholy shore

Of life, years, years ago; will they forgive

In us such earth-born folly? Or once more

Could we with such as they are choose to live?

Ah weary hearts, encrusted o'er with dross

Caught up from this vile world! Can we be sure,When of this lower life we suffer loss,

They will beat freely in an air so pure,

Fit for the souls who enter into light?

Such dross is in the grain; it must endure

Our own, unchanging still, in death's despite.

But come what will, to the last agony,

My choice is made; I cannot yield thee up.

Dross or pure gold, I give it all to thee.

The pearls of all my life shall in thy cup

Be thrown and melted; they are nought to me,

Save as they make some bubbling sparkle rise

To see itself one instant in thine eyes.

As Spike read the poem, and reread it, he paused briefly to consider the wisdom of his actions, then opened the basement door and quietly made his way to Buffy's room. He started to knock, when she opened the door, framed by the soft glow of her bedside lamp and clothed in a simple tank top and pajama pants.

"Did you read it?"

"Yes, pet."

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, my love."

"Are we rushing things?"

"Probably."

She opened the door wider and gently drew him in.

"Then just stay with me tonight. Hold me and we'll face the rest tomorrow."

He followed her in and sank down with her onto the bed, intertwining himself around her and silently holding her until they both drifted towards sleep.

"Goodnight, Spike, I love you."

"Love you too, my sweetheart."

Finis