Chapter Four

*Conversations and Dilemmas*


~**~


Buffy arrived at her office at the Watcher’s Council and tossed her jacket on a nearby chair, settling behind her desk and flipping the computer on. As she waited for the computer to boot up, she stared idly ahead, fingers drumming against the surface of the desk.

Assuming her position within the Watcher’s Council had been a feat that she had tirelessly attempted to accept. For so long she had denied the Council, tried to push them out of her life and away from her calling. They had interfered too many times in the past, wreaking havoc everywhere she turned.

The distrust and ambivalence she felt toward the stuffed shirts that had, on more than one occasion, managed to disrupt her life in some way or another, was a feeling she still carried with her. Although a year had passed since the Council’s destruction, the resentment lingered.

Quentin Travers was dead now, along with the myriad of Watchers that had worked under him. The old order of things had passed away, and with Giles’ assistance, the new had arisen.

A sense of urgency had come over her former Watcher as he had overseen the rebuilding of the Council, the installation of new Watchers. Quentin Travers system of running things had been immediately dismissed.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Slayers coming into their powers all over the world were in desperate need of counseling, assistance and guidance. Giles had immediately sent Willow and her brash young lover, Kennedy, out into the fields to gather the new Slayers and bring them to London.

Watchers waited to take them in, waited to shed some light on the powers that they were receiving. The task was proving to be long and arduous, but worth it every step of the way.

A year had passed and so much had been accomplished. The rebuilding had been completed, with the Council now being housed in a stretch of office buildings that spanned a city block in downtown London.

Giles had asked Buffy if she would oversee ‘Operations‘, the division that was responsible for gathering the new Slayers and placing them with Watchers not only in London, but around the world.

Buffy was in constant contact with Willow and Kennedy as they updated her on their findings. Buffy had spoken to Willow the day before. The Wicca had contacted Buffy via cell phone, from somewhere on the outskirts of Africa and relayed that three Slayers had been found and were on their way to London.

The new Slayers would be arriving that night and by morning, would be set up at the Council. There they would receive a briefing, they would be boarded and they would begin training.

The girls would be put through a system of sorts, remaining at the Council for approximately a month, until they were then placed with a Watcher to assume their responsibilities. Buffy, with Giles’ help, had put the system into place and it ran like a well-oiled machine.

Unfortunately, Buffy was bored to tears.

She missed the fighting, the tension and the danger. As often as she had complained about the burden of her calling, she found that she missed it even more.

London was not Sunnydale. It did not teem with the same level of demonic activity that her former hometown once had. London was not a Hellmouth. London was rainy, cold and dull, nowhere near Hellmouth proportions. The supernatural element simply stayed away. Not like Buffy could blame them.

Still, she patrolled every night. Most nights she came across a vamp or two, but nothing more. Her patrols were mostly based on instinct and a force of habit. They provided only a momentary solace from the doldrums of ordinary life, but the fighting didn’t give her the release it once had.

The truth of the matter was that Buffy’s heart simply wasn’t in it anymore.

Yes, she missed it, craved the adrenaline and the rush…but the fight didn’t seem to matter. It had lost it’s meaning.

The computer made a sound to indicate it was ready for Buffy to log on, which jarred her from the reverie she had slipped into. Sitting upright in her chair, Buffy quickly checked her email and was happy to see that Willow had dropped a line.

She skimmed over the brief paragraph, noting that the plane containing the three new Slayers had taken off and would be arriving late that night. Next, she clicked on a search engine. Something had been niggling at the corner of her mind ever since Angel had paid her a visit and her curiosity was getting the better of her.

Buffy waited as the page loaded and then typed ‘Shanshu prophecy’ into the search box, tapping her fingernails against the surface of the desk as she waited for the results. She didn’t notice the appearance of Giles as he strode into her office and came to stand behind her chair.

The results popped onto the screen and Buffy leaned forward, a frown settling over her features as she read the page.

“The Shanshu prophecy?” Giles suddenly asked from Buffy’s shoulder. She jumped in her seat and then whipped around to face her former Watcher, a hand pressed to her chest.

“Geez Giles, knock much?”

Giles removed his glasses, cleaned them on the hem of his shirt and placed them back on his face.

“Terribly sorry, Buffy,” he murmured and then leaned forward to closely inspect what was on the computer screen. “What brings your interest to that particular prophecy? Last I heard it was nothing more than a myth.”

“Angel,” Buffy replied softly.

“Oh,” Giles answered.

“Yeah,” she continued, turning in her seat to face Giles. “He paid me a little visit yesterday, said some major battle went down in Los Angeles. Funny thing is, we never heard anything about any battle.”

Giles shook his head slowly.

“Sketchy reports came in from the area, but we were unable to suss out the details. What kind of information did you receive from Angel?” Giles asked.

Buffy stood up and paced around the office as she began to speak.

“Wolfram and Hart had plans for Angel and his gang…plans that I’m guessing weren’t of the happy-smiley variety, either,” she answered. Giles frowned as his gaze traveled to his feet.

“Something was building there for quite some time, Buffy. I’m sure Angel was aware of the situation. But it still doesn’t explain his connection to the Shanshu prophecy,” Giles said matter-of-factly.

“He’s human,” Buffy blurted, casting a harried glance in the Watcher’s direction. “I felt his heart beat, Giles. He’s human…living flesh and bone.”

“Of course,” Giles murmured nodding his head, “the prophecy states that a vampire with a soul will save the world and his slate will be wiped clean. He will become human. That’s…incredible and very hard to believe.”

“Welcome to my world,” Buffy muttered, lowering her head. Slowly, Giles met Buffy’s eyes, a frown settling over his features as he studied her intently.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” he asked.

Buffy could only nod slowly as she bit her lip. The tears that swam behind her eyes were an undeniable sign that something troubling brewed beneath the surface, and it didn’t have anything to do with Angel’s sudden return to mortality.

“Tell me,” Giles urged softly, thrusting his hands into his pockets, his gaze unwavering as he took Buffy in.

Buffy’s shoulders sagged and her head drooped sadly.

“It’s Spike,” she uttered so softly that Giles had to strain to hear her.

“Excuse me?”

“Spike. H-he was in Los Angeles, for the fight. He died in that fight. But he’d been alive before that…and he never told me. In fact, he made Angel, Gunn, Fred and Wesley promise not to tell me.”

The silence that followed was heavy and laced with finality. The questions that hung in the air remained unasked and unanswered. Giles settled into a chair nearby and removed his glasses, balancing them on one knee as he studied his shoes.

“How did this happen, Buffy?” he asked finally. Buffy twisted her fingers nervously and then took a seat beside her Watcher in a neighboring chair. Her eyes were fixed on the floor as she released a breath.

“According to Angel, Spike appeared all poof-like out of the amulet…at Wolfram and Hart,” Buffy answered. Giles sat up and faced Buffy.

“You mean the amulet--”

Buffy nodded.

“The one he wore in the Hellmouth. Yeah. First he was some kind of ghost and then corporeal. He was going to leave, but for some reason decided to stay in L.A. and help Angel out.”

Giles seemed to absorb the information as another silence fell between them. Buffy stared ahead dejectedly, as if she were adjusting to it as well. Finally, Giles broke the silence.

“Are you upset that Spike never contacted you?”

Buffy stood up abruptly and faced Giles.

“What do you think?” she asked with a shrug. “Of course I am. I’m devastated…floored. How did you think I would feel?”

“I-I don’t rightly know, Buffy. You and Spike had a--” he broke off as he searched for the right words. “You had a volatile relationship…maybe Spike was only trying to protect you…”

“Protect me? Is that what you think he was doing?”

“Like I said Buffy--”

“No, Giles,” Buffy lifted a hand to halt his words. “He wasn’t protecting me. He was stupid a-and selfish. He was wrong.”

Giles stood and faced Buffy, placing his hands on her shoulders and leaning forward.

“I understand that you’re confused. I share in that confusion, but I can see Spike’s side of this pretty clearly. That day in the Hellmouth, he gave you a gift, he gave us all a gift. He sacrificed himself so we could all live a better life…so you could have a normal life. If I doubted that Spike loved you at that time, I certainly don’t doubt it anymore. You have to believe that what he did was right and just,” Giles stated emphatically.

“But I don’t!” Buffy cried out, flinging Giles’ hands from her shoulders and taking a step back. “I don’t,” she finished softly, chewing her lower lip and once again twisting her fingers nervously.

“Tell me why,” the Watcher stated evenly.

Buffy’s features seemed to crumple as her eyes traveled to the ceiling in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Because it’s not fair,” she whispered raggedly. “Because he didn’t tell me h-he was alive. I don’t know, Giles. I just don’t feel right about it. I feel…betrayed.” Giles looked down as the intensity of Buffy’s emotions washed over him.

“I can’t begin to imagine what you are feeling, Buffy,” Giles began softly as he reached a hand out to clasp her shoulder. “But I strongly believe that what Spike did was for the best. He probably made the only decision he could regarding your well-being. I think his intentions were good, whether you believe that or not is up to you.”

Buffy’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, widened as her sadness and despair increased. For the first time, Giles truly saw her pain. The realization caused him to stare down at her in disbelief.

“It’s my fault,” Buffy rasped, as her chin wobbled and teardrops streaked down her cheeks.

Giles shook his head vehemently.

“No, Buffy.”

“I used him, pushed him away,” Buffy murmured, staring off into space as she said the words.

“Stop this, Buffy,” Giles urged.

She shook her head as tears raced down her cheeks.

“I finally realized…realized it too late,” she continued on a ragged whisper, “and he rejected me.”

“Enough!” Giles cried as he kneeled at Buffy’s feet staring imploringly into her teary eyes. “You need to stop blaming yourself for this, Buffy.”

“I can’t,” she breathed.

“Try,” Giles cried with urgency.

Buffy’s head bowed slowly as sobs shook her body violently. Giles got to his feet and took a step back. Shoulders sagging, he slowly trudged from the room, giving his Slayer the moment she needed to pull herself together. But, in his mind, he was having doubts that she would ever see the other side of her pain.

He just hoped that she would come to terms with it all before it was too late.

Giles stopped at the doorway of the office and turned his head to gaze at Buffy once more and then with a slow shake of his head, exited, closing the door behind him.


~**~


Spike had viewed the entire exchange from a shadowed corner of Buffy’s office. His heart felt heavy, his thoughts even heavier as he began to weigh his options. Sometime during the night, Colin had left Spike’s side.

Spike had no idea where the angel had disappeared to, but was finding comfort in being alone. At least for the moment. He was hoping that his companion would return…there wasn’t much Spike could do without his friend Colin.

Except watch Buffy.

Colin had told Spike that humans could see him, if he wanted them too. Spike knew that he desperately wanted to show himself to Buffy, but was aware that the timing wasn’t right. Her grief was still raw and the last thing Spike wanted to do was scare the poor girl.

But he wanted her to see him.

Desperately.

A strong force seemed to be pulling Spike in Buffy’s direction, just as it had in life. He couldn’t deny it, couldn’t push it away. The feeling was always with him and somehow he had carried it with him into the afterlife.

Spike was feeling a healthy dose of regret at the moment. He regretted never telling Buffy that he’d been alive. He regretted the selfish and callous attitude he’d taken about the matter.

Most of all he just wanted to hold her.

Aside from the guardian angel vibes he was feeling, there was also his strong vampiric senses, tugging and pulling at his heart and his brand new soul. The demon and the angel within were waging an epic battle of spiritual proportions.

The vampire smelled the fear, the sadness.

The angel wanted to comfort, to bring peace.

Spike didn’t know which path to choose.

“You must go to her,” a voice urged from the shadows. Spike’s mouth curved into a wry smile as he recognized the voice as Colin’s.

“So he’s back,” Spike said, turning to face his unlikely companion. “Thought you’d run off for good.”

Colin shrugged.

“Important business. Couldn’t wait. But, you my friend, have a dilemma on your hands.”

“And that would be?” Spike questioned with a lift of his scarred brow.

“You must make a choice,” Colin stated, nodding toward the bereft Slayer who sat only feet away. “You know what you have to do.”

Spike slid his gaze in Buffy’s direction and felt the pull once again, the urgency to be near her. The battle continued to wage deep inside.

“She needs me and God…” Spike’s eyes traveled upward as his voice broke. “I love her so much.”

Colin moved to stand beside Spike, placing a hand tentatively on the vampire’s shoulder.

“Show yourself to her. Right the wrongs. This is your journey,” the angel murmured.

“The timing’s not right,” Spike argued feebly. The words sounded hollow as they left his mouth and he hated himself for his shortcomings…especially regarding Buffy.

“It never is,” Colin said sadly, “but that is life.”

“What if she runs…don’t want to frighten her.”

“Spike…your arguments fall on deaf ears.”

Spike sighed, his gaze traveling to his feet as thoughts wove through his mind. He could make all the excuses he wanted, but one fact still remained…

He needed Buffy.

She needed him.

Even death could not separate, could not sever, the obvious connection they shared. And Spike hated that it had taken so long for him to realize, to comprehend what he had known all along.

Colin had been right, Spike simply refused to see what was right in front of him. He was completely blind…but this was only the product of lingering doubts and constant fear. Buffy had pushed him away so many times, that Spike could not even allow himself to believe that he really stood a chance with her.

But maybe things could change.

Spike let out a long breath and finally faced Colin, who stood stoically beside him.

“I’ll do it, mate,” Spike acquiesced. “I’ll show myself to her. But if she turns tail and runs than I’m comin’ after you.”

“Agreed,” Colin relented, the hint of a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll be watching.”

“Bet you will.”

The angel nodded and then turned away, his image shimmering until it was gone. Spike once again fixed his gaze on Buffy, who had finally pulled herself together. He took a hesitant step forward and closed his eyes. Deep in concentration, Spike could feel himself returning to solid form. It wouldn’t be long and he would be visible.

It was time.


~**~


End of Chapter Four

~*to be continued with chapter five: uninvited…*~
 

Chapter Five

~*Uninvited*~


~**~


Something had changed in the room. Drastically. It had only taken a moment or two to happen, but something had definitely shifted. Buffy sensed it the instant she heard Giles leave the room, as if the molecules in the air had taken a large step to the left.

Getting to her feet, Buffy surveyed the office through narrowed eyes, immediately clicking into Slayer mode. She moderated her breathing, creeping around the office to the rhythm of her heartbeat, as instinct took over.

Buffy neared the wall beside the door and drew in a sharp intake of breath. Here. Right here. The wall seemed to pulsate with new energy, energy that Buffy wasn’t familiar with, but more than ready to face. Reaching out a hand, she placed it against the wall and immediately retracted it. The surface of the wall emanated heat.

Buffy took a step back.

Ok, what the hell?

The imprint of the wall’s strange heat still lingered on her skin and Buffy reflexively balled her hands into fists. Tilting her head, she studied the wall a moment, trying to decipher just what the hell would make it feel warm.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Buffy reached out her hand again to touch the wall and this time, to her disappointment, realized the warmth had disappeared…as if it hadn’t been there at all.

And the innate sense of danger, that the Slayer inside had picked up on moments before, had left her body as quickly as it had taken up residence there.

Something’s not right here, Buffy thought to herself with a frown.

She shook her head and pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling the first signs of the impending headache that waited in the wings. Her Slayer senses were off, which could only mean one thing…

She was going crazy.

Stark raving bonkers.

With a sigh, Buffy trudged to the desk and to the chair behind it, where her jacket and purse were draped. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was go home and lie down. She wanted to forget everything that had happened in the last day or so.

Angel’s sudden return to mortality.

Finding out Spike had been alive, only to have him ripped away from her in the most violent way possible.

It was all too much.

She slipped her jacket on and flipped off lights as she left the office. Maybe a quick patrol would calm her, at least a little. There was nothing like a good kill to tire a girl out.


~**~

This could not be happening. Spike opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. He wasn’t in Buffy’s office anymore, in fact he wasn’t even on earth. He was back in the heavenly dimension of Althea, or whatever the bloody hell it was.

Moments before he had been standing in Buffy’s office, funneling all of his concentration into showing himself to her when it had all been torn away. In the blink of an eye. In a heartbeat. And now he was back in Althea’s dimensional throne room.

Bloody hell.

What did the stupid bint want now?

Spike heard a tsking sound and turned his head to face the dimensional goddess as she neared him, her bare feet soundless as she walked across the marble floor. Spike tipped his head back and rolled his eyes as she stood before him, hands perched on hips, tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“Bad thoughts, Spike,” Althea chastised, wagging a finger in his face. Spike reared his head back, balking at the gesture.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he cried out irritably. “I was close, you daft bint. So, what the bleeding fuck am I doing back here?” Althea folded her arms across her chest and regarded Spike, her features relaxed, the perfect picture of serenity.

“I put a stop to it, dear Spike. There are some things I cannot allow and showing yourself is one of them.”

Spike stared at Althea crazily, his head tilted, frown creasing his features.

“What are you on about?”

The goddess shook her head, molasses waves of hair undulating around her shoulders as a smile lit her features.

“I see the error of my ways,” she said gently, pacing the floor in front of Spike. “I went about this all wrong. I see I failed to explain to you fully on what is expected of you and your new status.”

Spike folded his arms over his chest and remained silent. Somehow he sensed this was an explanation he wanted to hear, needed to hear. Didn’t mean he cared one way or another, but he figured it was only fair the bint had her say. Althea nodded in Spike’s direction and continued.

“You are an angel, my dear. An ethereal being, enlightened. I have elevated you to the highest plane of existence and this is how I am repaid?”

Spike shook his head and let out a frustrated growl, unable to control the rising level of his temper as he studied the goddess through the narrowed slits of his eyes. He was starting to get pissed off and in about two seconds…

A sound filtered into Spike’s senses as a door slammed. Althea and Spike simultaneously turned to investigate the source of the sound and realized that Colin had joined them in the throne room. Spike couldn’t help feeling glad…at last the bloody cavalry had arrived.

“Would you explain to this stupid bint what I was tryin to do before she interrupted me?” Spike cried out, pointing in Althea’s direction. Colin seemed to ignore Spike and turned to Althea instead, regarding her with a slight smirk.

“You do enjoy playing your little games, don’t you goddess?”

Althea tipped her head to the side and smiled.

“Whatever do you mean, Colin?” she asked sweetly. The angel shook his head and lowered it as a grin spread across his beatific features.

“You bring the vampire here, tease him with the expectation of seeing his love and then rip him away?”

Althea folded her arms across her chest and pouted.

“It is not our way.”

“What is our way?” Colin shot back.

The statement left Althea momentarily speechless and Spike couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his features. Colin was giving it to her good. It was right nice to see a bloke standing up for the likes of him. It had been a long time coming. Spike continued to watch the scene unfold.

“To observe through love,” Althea answered.

“But is it fair? Truly?” Colin asked.

Althea seemed to think this over, lips pursed. Her features crinkled into a frown as she lifted a gaze in Colin’s direction.

“I do not understand your impudence. You are a cherished son, part of the fold and you defy me this way?”

Colin regarded Althea coolly.

“I defy you by suggesting change? Simply preposterous,” he mocked with sarcasm. “I only work with what I have.”

“You are pretty close to having nothing if you keep up this defiance. I will simply not allow--”

“Allow what, goddess? To continue toying with the vampire, dangling things in front of him that he cannot have?” Colin shook his head. “This does not adhere to our agreement.”

Spike was getting confused as his eyes traveled back and forth between the heavenly goddess and her angel.

“Anyone care to explain to me what’s going on?” he asked expectantly. But it was if Spike had said nothing at all. They completely disregarded his statement, continuing to argue.

“What shall I change, Colin? And we had no agreement. I only agreed to allow the vampire to enter my kingdom, beyond that there is nothing more. You have what you requested, the rest is up to me.”

Colin was silent, rightly chagrined. Spike could feel a churning in his gut. Something was happening here and at the moment he was having a hard time following. But, he feared if he spoke up, the force of Althea’s anger would be directed his way and he wanted to avoid that at all lengths. So he listened.

“As far as I’m concerned, our agreement has been met. The vampire is here, per your request. He must follow rules, just as you do, just as the brethren do. Did you think he would receive special treatment because of the circumstances?” Althea asked Colin, who kept his head lowered, only listening.

The goddess stepped closer, resting a hand on the angel’s shoulder softly.

“I’m deeply sorry that you thought there would be something more for the vampire, but this is our way. It is the only way I know. He cannot show himself to the girl. No matter how badly he wants to, no matter how badly he needs to. I simply cannot allow it.”

Colin lifted his head slowly and Spike saw something different in his new friend’s eyes. At first he’d thought the angel was going to give in, but a spark remained behind his coal black eyes and Spike couldn’t help feeling a little hopeful.

“Goddess, you understand nothing,” Colin began. “The vampire suffers. The Slayer suffers. I feel it, you feel it. There love is uncommon, unheard of, and now unrequited. Something must be done to correct this grievous error…even if drastic measures have to be taken. Is this not what we are about?”

Althea pressed a finger to her lips and seemed to contemplate Colin’s words. Her silence only urged him to say more, so he continued.

“I have seen the light of true love. It shines in his eyes, it reflects in hers. You said it once, highness…they are two halves of a whole. Separating them would be a fate worse than death and I simply cannot stand by and watch it happen,” Colin finished folding his arms over his chest, allowing the words to sink in.

Spike tamped the impulse to run over and plant a wet one on the boy’s lips. The bloke had come through and at that moment, Spike had never respected anyone more. Anxiously, he awaited Althea’s decision. His fate hung seemingly in the balance. He had a feeling that a change was about to happen, a change that seemed to be uncustomary in this place.

A wry smile lifted the corners of Spike’s mouth.

He was the rebel without a cause.

Seemed right fitting, it did.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was merely a few minutes, the goddess began to speak.

“I have thought over your request and I don’t find it to be unreasonable,” she began turning to face both the vampire and the angel that stood before her. “You are right about the vampire, Colin. He has shown his love to be true. The Slayer needs a little coaxing, but I will leave that up to the Powers and the vampire himself. Any intervention from our side would prove fruitless. So, it is out of my hands. I realize the error of my ways and will grant the request. The vampire may show himself, may have the chance to prove his love.”

Spike couldn’t help the triumphant yell that escaped his lips. He received two crazy looks in his direction, but that didn’t stop the wide grin that spread across his features. Spike’s gaze landed on Althea and that’s when he realized she wasn’t finished.

“Bloody hell, get on with it,” Spike mumbled. The goddess tipped her head and studied Spike a moment, a puzzled frown settling over her serene features.

“I find you to be an odd creature,” she said and then shook her head. “But for an odd creature, you have capacity for great love. I grant you your request…but there is a price.”

“Price?” Spike cried and then as the words sank in, he shook his head resolutely. “Should’ve known better.”

Althea took a step closer and placed a comforting hand on Spike’s shoulder, causing his head to lift as he met her peaceful gaze.

“With this gift of freedom I give you, you must accept the consequences. If you fail, if the Slayer does not return your love, than I will be forced to banish you from my kingdom and strip you of your status. You will be returned to your plane as dust of the earth never to return again. Do not use your chances foolishly, vampire. For they are few and I do not give them out freely.”

Spike listened carefully to what the goddess had to say, letting it sink in.. He understood the bloody score. Win Buffy back or fit into an ashtray. But he found her terms to be acceptable. What choice did he really have? If this were the only way he could get Buffy back, then Spike would grab it with both hands and run with it. His love couldn’t be denied and now he had the chance to prove it.

“I accept the terms, love. When do I leave?”

No sooner had the words left Spike’s mouth than he found himself cloaked in darkness. Alone. Save for the presence nearby. Spike turned and faced the being, making the angel’s form out in the shadows.

“Don’t have to get all mushy on you now, do I?” Spike queried as Colin stepped out of the shadows and stood next to Spike.

“That won’t be necessary,” Colin said with a chuckle, lowering his head bashfully.

“You really came through for me, mate. How can I repay you?” Spike asked.

Colin waved a hand nonchalantly.

“No repayment required. Consider it a gift. She was right, Spike. Use your chances wisely. It is not everyday she is so benevolent. She must see what I see and that is a good man below the surface of the monster, who only wants to redeem himself and do what is right. Now go to the woman you love, before it is too late.”

Colin turned to walk away, but stopped when Spike called out to him.

“Will I ever see you again?”

Colin faced Spike with a small smile.

“I am sure we will cross paths one way or another,” he replied and as if it had just occurred to him, the angel reached into his pocket and withdrew something, handing it over to Spike.

“A gift? You shouldn’t have,” Spike joked, feeling the cool weight of a jewel as it was pressed into his palm.

“It is not a gift, Spike. It is more like a measure of last resort. If you need me, you summon me through the jewel. I will appear and guide you to your destination, whatever it may be.”

“Huh?”

“Summon me, Spike. And only if the need is dire…you have options, my friend. I cannot fully explain what they are, but if the need arises…just know that outlets exist.”

“But--” Spike countered in confusion. It was already too late. Colin had faded away into the shadows, leaving Spike standing in the darkness. Alone. With a shrug, Spike pocketed the jewel and closed his eyes.

It was time to return to Buffy.


~**~


The apartment was silent when Buffy returned from patrolling. She called out to Dawn, but received no response. The note taped to the refrigerator explained everything. Sleeping over at a friend’s house. With a sigh, she balled the note in her hand and tossed it into the trash. Opening the refrigerator, Buffy scanned the contents, pulling out a yogurt cup and a bottle of water. Sitting at the table, she stirred the yogurt dazedly, not taking a bite, only staring off into space.

Patrol had been a useless endeavor. The only thing she’d managed to encounter was a stray cat and it had arched it’s back at her with a hiss, as if Buffy were invading its territory. The cat had run off into the night, as if it had better things to do.

Buffy wished she had better things to do, but once again she was alone. Always alone. It was times like these that she missed her friends desperately. When had everything become so different? When did the dear friends, who were almost like family, become strangers to her?

Countless times in the past, her friends had stood beside her, a force to be reckoned with. Now Xander had disappeared off the face of the earth and Willow was too preoccupied with her new Slayer-fetching duties to even give Buffy the time of day. When had it all gone wrong?

Suddenly, Buffy had lost her appetite.

The yogurt went into the trash and Buffy left the kitchen, turning off lights as she exited. Suddenly the peaceful haven of her bedroom felt more than inviting and she entered, turning the radio on and flopping onto the bed. The lilting melodic voice of Alanis Morrisette filtered through the speakers of the radio and Buffy sighed, losing herself in the music.

Like any uncharted territory…I must seem greatly intriguing…

She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, drawing on inner strength to enter a plane of peacefulness. Willow had taught her the technique after they’d shared a moment in meditation, shortly after her friend had been attacked by the Gnarl demon.

Buffy found herself relying on meditation more and more these days. It gave her a certain amount of relief, but the feeling never lasted very long. And it was getting harder and harder to achieve the plateau she had once been able to reach effortlessly.

Maybe because her mind had constantly become drawn to…

Buffy squeezed her eyes closed tightly as an image skated into her mind. A blonde vampire, the wicked grin spreading across his features, daring her to walk through the fire, daring her to burn with him. He cajoled her, danced around the periphery of her memories and never let her out of his grasp.

Would this be a torment she would be forced to suffer with for the rest of her life?

You speak of my love like…you have experienced love like mine before…

Life was just getting too hard and it was coming to a point where Buffy felt the strong urge to just check out. No one needed her anymore. She’d lost the two great loves of her life…one to arrogance and the other to betrayal. What else did she have to live for? Would anyone even notice if she disappeared?

Buffy dismissed the thoughts the moment they entered her mind. It was all silliness. Of course she couldn’t expect to walk away from life and not have anyone notice that she had disturbed the air with her passing.

She just missed him. Even if she couldn’t bring herself to think of his name or conjure his image for much longer than a minute or two. Still, it hurt all the same and there was nothing she could do to stop the constant torment.

Once again, Buffy concentrated on clearing her mind. Maybe the second attempt at meditation would be the charm. Concentrate. Got to concentrate. Buffy repeated the words to herself like a mantra, anxiously waiting for the sublime oblivion of nothingness to wash over her…so she could sleep.

Maybe this time she wouldn’t dream.

But this is not allowed…


~**~


Spike’s body trembled as he gazed at Buffy in repose. He’d heard her thoughts and each one of them had sent a shaft of pain rippling through his body. She needed him now more than ever. Spike couldn’t help thinking that his timing was perfect…because the Slayer was spinning out of control on an emotional rollercoaster with no one there to apply the brakes. If she allowed herself to careen, to spin out unheeded, than it could end badly and Spike didn’t want to think about the end.

You're uninvited…an unfortunate sight…

Slowly, he crept to her bedside, his heart aching and swelling with the need to be at his Slayer’s side. He knew she couldn’t see him, knew that she could not sense his presence and for the moment, Spike wanted to revel in the anonymity his guardian angel status provided.

He got to his knees at her bedside, his eyes never leaving her face as he drank her in. There were so many words he wanted to say to her, so many things he wanted to show her. Would she accept him? Would she turn against him? Unfortunately, Spike was never going to get the answers to those questions if he didn’t act soon. He had been given a gift, a rare gift attached to a hefty price. If he didn’t fulfill his end of the bargain soon…well there’d be fiery demise in his near future.

And now, being at Buffy’s side, drinking in her pretty features, Spike didn’t want to leave her, ever. He would move heaven, earth and possibly hell if the need arose, to get what he wanted.

Spike would do whatever it took to have her in his arms again, to feel the soft caress of her breath as it touched his skin. Without hesitation, Spike climbed into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her slim, muscular body. He froze when she shuddered in her sleep, and then allowed her to shift positions. He relaxed his body as she seemed to melt into his embrace without even knowing it.

With trembling fingers, Spike reached out to touch the skin of her cheek, and was saddened as the silkiness did not connect with his nerve endings. He couldn’t feel the soft, gentle waves of her hair as he ran his fingers through it and again, his nerve endings did not crackle in response as he placed a gentle kiss against her temple.

But it didn’t matter.

He could feel the weight of her body in his arms and he could still smell her.

Feeble things as they were, but all that Spike had left to cling to.

Buffy shuddered again in sleep, moaned softly as she succumbed to dreams.

“Spike”, she murmured softly, nestling closer against his body, as a childlike smile lit her lips.

Spike felt a shiver ripple through his body, felt the lump rise in his throat, as the power of his name passing through her lips overcame him. He held back the tears valiantly and closed his eyes.

Spike wished that morning would not arrive in its timely way. He wished for eternal night, because he did not want to leave the Slayer’s embrace.

Ever.

You’re uninvited…an unfortunate sight…


~**~

End of Chapter Five

~*to be continued with chapter six: stairway to heaven*~

Chapter Six

~*Stairway to Heaven*~


~**~

Sometime during the night, Buffy awoke with a start. The feeling was back. A chill ran up and down her spine followed by the quickening of her heart rate. Reaching out her hand, she tested the air beside her, feeling the familiar warmth. She remembered the earlier feeling at the office, the warmth on the wall. Frantically, Buffy scrabbled out of bed and stared down at it, hands perched on hips, eyes narrowed.

“Ok, whoever or whatever you are, show yourself. I’m tired of playing games,” Buffy stated to the shadows. When she received no response, her shoulders sagged. Running a hand over her hair, she sighed.

“I’m going crazy,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. She glanced at the chair across the room beneath the window and trudged toward it. If the unseen nothing wasn’t going to show itself, than Buffy wasn’t going to take her chances. There was no way she was getting back in that bed.

Settling herself on the chair, she reached for the afghan draped over it. She wrapped the soft knitted material around her shoulders, shivering slightly beneath it.

The afghan had belonged to Buffy’s mother and now it belonged to Buffy. There were some mementos that she had managed to salvage from Sunnydale.

The days before the battle against The First had been filled with weapons, training, and battle plans…no thought had been given to material things. Dawn hadn’t said anything about it and Buffy had been too preoccupied to even worry about that kind of thing.

It wasn’t until after everything had been said and done, after her hometown had officially been sucked into hell, that Giles had sent a band of Slayers to the area to investigate. It was mostly a re-con mission, a testing of ‘the site’ as her Watcher had called it. Giles had wanted to be reassured that The First had been squished, once and for all.

The Slayers had done their job, The First was gone. Kaput. The second part of their mission was to retrieve personal belongings that might have survived the deadly quake of the Hellmouth’s rupture. Buffy hadn’t known about that aspect.

She’d known that the Slayers were traveling to the former location of Sunnydale, but Giles had deliberately left out the part where personal belongings were involved. Buffy had simply chosen not to think of the things that had been left behind. As far as she was concerned, Buffy had managed to get out with her life, with her sister’s and friends lives. Nothing else mattered. When the Slayers had returned, Giles had surprised Buffy and Dawn with boxes upon boxes of items that had survived the earthquake. Buffy had been dumbfounded and awed, while Dawn had shed tears as they picked through the scattered remains of their former lives.

Among the various items that had been returned were Dawn’s collection of stuffed animals, her CD’s, and a box of clothing. Joyce’s belongings, or some of them, had managed to survive. Along with clothing and jewelry was the precious afghan.

Buffy had listened as her mother told her the story behind the afghan, how she had knitted it lovingly while she’d been pregnant with her eldest daughter. The memory was one she cherished. Now, Buffy could cherish the only reminder she had left of her mother. It was all she had left. If she pressed her nose into the soft, knitted material, she could almost smell her mother’s favorite perfume.

There was something else that had been unearthed from the rubble of her former livelihood. A certain something that Buffy kept tucked away from prying eyes. She kept it hidden, because if it was ever found there would be a multitude of questions she could look forward to, questions she would have liked to avoid.

So the item had remained hidden. Buffy hadn’t even thought of it until now.

Getting to her feet, Buffy walked to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. Her hand slid beneath the pile of lacy underwear and thongs until her fingers closed around the object in question.

The cool metal contrasted with the heat of her skin and Buffy felt her eyes flutter closed as she clutched the object in her hand. The slight tingling sensation that crackled and sizzled along her nerve endings showed that the object still elicited pleasurable sensations deep inside of her…

And brought back so many memories…

Buffy opened her eyes and pulled the Zippo lighter from its hiding place. She stared as the moonlight glinted hypnotically off the metal surface. Entranced, she walked slowly to the chair and settled her body into it.

She held the lighter up to the thin sliver of moonlight leaking in from the slats of the mini blinds, watching as it cast eerie shadows on the walls surrounding her.

Using her fingernail, Buffy flicked the lighter open and struck the wheel, knowing that the lighter fluid inside had long dried out. The motion was comforting just the same. She stared at it, turned it in her hands and allowed the fleeting memories to glide through her mind.

Pale hands clasping the Zippo tightly.

Deft fingers striking the wheel, eliciting a flame.

Buffy shuddered, as she released a shaky breath. She sank further into the abyss of her memory, which had suddenly become magnified to the highest power. Each sound, each sensation, surrounded Buffy and suddenly she was there.

She was in her living room on Revello Drive all over again, being thrust against a wall angrily and forcibly. The power of that anger and frustration seethed behind brilliant blue eyes. The same skillful fingers that had once strummed her body, worked a Zippo, were thrust into the front pocket her jeans.

His low gravely voice caressed her ear as he spoke, causing a chill to run up and down her spine. His fingers worked inside her pocket, finally closing around the lighter she had hidden there.

Buffy moaned at the memory as her nipples tightened.

The feel of the jeans as they were pulled and pressed tightly to her most intimate area was a sensation unlike any other. The feel of hot breath against her ear as he’d growled his words caused Buffy’s body to involuntarily lift from the chair as the memory permeated her subconscious.

Clutching the lighter tightly in her right hand, Buffy’s left hand seemed to have a mind of its own, as she traveled it over her body, allowing her memories to switch directions.

Now she was in the balcony at the Bronze and the solid weight of a lean muscular body was pressed to hers. It was juxtaposed in such a way that the firm length of male hardness could be distinctly felt as it nestled against her backside. She could almost feel his moist, warm breath as it caressed her ear, as words of the naughtiest variety slipped over her, as his hands traveled to forbidden places. Long ago, Buffy might have wanted to banish the memory, but in this moment she savored it.

She groaned as the afghan covering her body slipped to the floor and pooled at the foot of the chair. She thrust her hand into the waistband of her shorts, allowing her fingers to travel lower and lower…as the Zippo lighter slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor.

Her right hand was inside her shorts, working in a frenzied manner as her fingers found her most sensitive area. The pressure was almost unbearable and it was building. Buffy craved release, longed for the power that oblivion could bring.

Close now…so close…

Her fingers stroked and rubbed the now slick folds of her sex as she urged herself along, allowing the moans to perpetuate her arousal.

Her left hand moved to her breast, pinching the nipple through the material of the t-shirt she wore. The sensation sent heat radiating over her body, and a spontaneous cry spilling from her lips.

Buffy, trapped in her memories, didn’t see the image that shimmered from the bed she had vacated moments before.

At the moment, she was writhing in pleasure as behind the closed lid of her eyes, images came alive. It was a montage of ecstasy and Buffy was powerless to contain it. She gave in, allowed herself to have one last dance with the man she loved…

If only in her dreams…


~**~

Spike watched in awe as Buffy pleasured herself right before his eyes. Never in there time together had she allowed Spike to see her vulnerability…not in this way. But he was seeing it now…and it was more than he could take. For some reason, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away, not that he wanted to.

Sitting upright on the bed, Spike wasn’t aware that he was fully visible, all he could see was Buffy and all he wanted was her. He remained frozen to the bed as she worked her shorts down her legs, as her thighs opened, inviting Spike to glimpse the inviting sight of her cleft…and bloody hell…she was wet.

Her fingers found her clit and stroked it, flicking the sensitive area as a surprised moan issued from her throat. Her eyes remained closed as her left hand freed one breast from the confines of clothing covering it.

Spike swallowed hard.

He was afraid to blink.

He feared that if he did, this beautiful scene would disappear forever. So he remained immobile, completely still, and watched the wondrous vision of the woman who owned his heart finding release, finding solace in her own pleasure.

Spike had never felt so alive…and alone…all at once.

Buffy was giving herself pleasure.

Spike could not participate.

Unless…


~**~


Buffy whimpered in pleasure as her hips lifted off the chair. Her knees were pressed against the armrests, her thighs open, as her fingers stroked and flicked her clit. Her memories were drenched in heat as flashbacks of various entanglements with a certain blonde vampire flooded her mind. She saw everything…

An abandoned house…as it crumbled around them…her inner walls clenching the hardness that filled her completely…

A wet warm mouth pressed to her neck, to her breasts, as kisses were trailed along her collarbone…

Blunt teeth tugging at her nipples as sensations of a different sort tugged at her very core…

The world crashing around her as they fell through the wooden floor and landed on solid concrete…as wave after wave of orgasm rippled through her body…mingled with the screams coming from her throat and echoing from his…

Aah God…

Sensations undulated over Buffy, as she fingered her clit…driving herself to the precipice and without hesitation throwing herself over it…drowning…drowning, drowning…

Sinking into oblivion.

With a cry, Buffy’s back arched as she reached the brink of pleasure, the sensations washing over her. Her body sagged as she returned to earth, floating on a cloud of ecstasy that caused a sweet, sad smile to light her features.

When she opened her eyes and the world came back into focus, she realized that she hadn’t been the only one providing pleasure. Her gaze slammed into that of a pale blue stare and a strangled gasp left her mouth.

“Spike!”

She scrabbled away from the sudden appearance of the product of her memories and then promptly tipped her head back and passed out, her body sliding out of the chair. Spike was there to catch her as she slid. He lifted her carefully into his arms and carried her to bed, pulling the covers around her.

At that moment, Spike realized his grave error.

It was too soon.

Silently, he watched Buffy’s relaxed features as she slept and allowed himself to dissolve.

He turned away and ensconced himself in the darkest corners of her room. He had nowhere to go, but it was too soon to show Buffy now. He would wait and maybe when she woke up she would think it had all been a dream.

It wasn’t a dream to Spike…it was a bloody revelation.

Buffy still loved him. She still thought of him.

Spike could wait.


~**~

Buffy was lost somewhere in her dreams. She twisted and moaned in her sleep, as images flashed behind her eyes. Spike made brief appearances as the steadiness of a pale blue gaze floated around on the periphery of the dream. Sensations, pinpricks of feeling touched her at every angle, every curve, until it felt as if her entire body were on fire.

She remembered the pleasure she had bestowed upon herself and felt empty. The ecstasy seemed hollow, as now she had no one to share it with. But sensations remained. All over her body she could feel it, the constant thrum of sexual heat, as if her fantasies could invade her dreams and make them reality.

Buffy felt the pull of awakening, but resisted, not wanting to leave the place of her nocturnal musings, or the wonderful feeling they were providing. She moaned again and felt feather-like kisses being rained onto her skin, peppering every inch and filling her with such heat that it was impossible to contain.

She murmured his name, whispered it with longing and love, succumbing to the unending waves of pleasure. She touched the embers of her passion and felt the heat as it burned hot and slow.

Buffy wanted to stay there forever.

She wanted to die this way.

The pleasure was almost more than she could take.

But, oh, she wanted more.


~**~

Spike gazed lovingly at the Slayer as she twisted and writhed beside him. The expressions on her beautiful face vividly painted a picture of how she was feeling. He hadn’t been able to help himself. There was no way he could stand by and watch her become unfulfilled. He had to do something.

Witnessing as she’d pleasured herself, had been a torture that Spike could hardly bear. He’d made the mistake of joining her and probably had scared the living hell out of her in the process. But now she slept, and Spike could do as he pleased and he planned to take advantage. There was nothing wrong with helping someone along, even if the certain someone couldn’t see who was doing the providing. She would only think it a dream and dismiss it as such, leaving Spike free and clear. Besides, he was having fun with his new persona.

There would be time enough for showing himself to her, for now he just wanted to see her happy. So much loneliness and sadness was taking its toll on his beautiful Slayer and in these precious moments he had, he wanted to see the shadows lifted from her delicate features, replaced by the joy that only ecstasy could provide.

Spike only wanted to help.

His palm rested on the curve of her breast, his fingertip reaching out to trace the areola of her nipple, where the dusky skin teased him from beneath the thin white cotton t-shirt she wore. He slightly pinched the taut nipple, which caused Buffy to moan in appreciation as her hips vaulted from the bed. Her mouth fell open in a round ‘o’, the breath hissing through her teeth, as Spike’s hand rested on the smooth skin of her belly, fingertips brushing the hem of her t-shirt.

It wasn’t long before his hand had breached the barrier, traveling closer to her ribcage and finally resting at the valley between her breasts. One hand cupped a firm globe, while the other rested at the waistband of the tiny shorts covering her lower half.

He darted a quick glance in Buffy’s direction as she moaned softly, murmuring incoherently in her sleep. He smiled and delved his hand beneath the waistband of the shorts, crossing another threshold. He received a strangled groan from Buffy’s throat as a reward and it only served to urge him onward.

Spike knew full well that she wore no panties and used that knowledge to his advantage as his fingers combed through the wiry hairs at the apex of her thighs, finally finding what he was looking for. He parted the soft curls and ran his finger over her slit, lubricating it with her juices. Her thighs seemed to part with a mind of their own, giving Spike an open invitation to explore.

He parted the slick folds of her sex and found her clit with ease, flicking it with practiced perfection, the loud moan emitting from Buffy’s parted mouth only serving to speed up his actions with fervor.

She was putty in his hands.

But Spike wasn’t garnering a single reward for his efforts, for he could not feel anything. It was as if his nerve endings were numb, because each touch he elicited, each stroke he provided, left nothing behind in the way of sensations.

But, he was making Buffy happy and nothing mattered more than that. If he had to go a lifetime without feeling only to make Buffy happy, than it was a price he was willing to pay.

Spike’s thoughts strayed as the sounds of Buffy’s quickening breath and the feel of her increasing heart rate assaulted his senses. By the power of his fingers alone she was close…so bleeding close. The muscles of her sex clenched and released at a frenzied pace around the two fingers he had slipped inside of her. The hand that wasn’t occupied with her sex, kneaded her breast, tugged at her nipple. Spike’s mouth watered to take that ripe fruit into his mouth, but he staved off the impulse…he didn’t want to wake her.

Now Buffy’s breathing was heavier, her hands fluttering at her chest as she clasped a breast and squeezed, her features crumpling in ecstasy. Spike’s fingers were deft as he slid them in and out of her, little by little increasing his momentum until she fairly screamed her climax. He waited with bated breath, almost expecting her eyes to fly open, to connect with his. Instead, a contented smile lit her features as she sailed gracefully back to earth.

“Thank you,” she murmured groggily, turning to her side, the satisfied smile never leaving her lips. Spike leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“My pleasure love,” he whispered softly. “I love you.”

Spike watched her through hooded eyes, thankful that at the moment he was not corporeal, as his hard-on would be impossible to hide. He brushed a palm over her hair and then reached for the blankets, pulling them over her body.

He left her bed then, returning to his resting place, the chair beneath the window. Something caught his eye as he took a seat, a flash of a metal object on the floor, caught by the moonlight. Intrigued, Spike leaned over the armrest and picked up the object in question. Testing the weight of the Zippo lighter in his palm, he cast a glance in Buffy’s direction.

She had kept it.

After all this time.

Spike felt love, strong and powerful as it filled him completely, momentarily robbing him of breath.

So, she had not forgotten.

This knowledge only magnified Spike’s guilt.

Sooner or later she would see the truth.

Would she hate him for it?

Would she forgive?

Spike didn’t think he could allow himself to ponder over the answers of those questions.

There were many bridges left to burn.

Spike would take things a day at a time.

He had plenty of it to spare.


~**~

End of Chapter Six

~*to be continued with chapter seven: confess*~

Chapter Seven

~*Confess*~


~**~

The feeling shadowed her when she woke that morning. It followed Buffy into the shower. Lingered over her at the kitchen table as she nursed a cup of coffee, and hovered around her at the office. She couldn’t shake the whatever-it-was that had her off balance, couldn’t put her finger on exactly what was different, but knew that something inside of her had changed.

The night before had shown her a lot of things.

Buffy was lonely. Horribly, desperately lonely.

And it was showing.

Somehow, the loneliness had manifested itself in her dreams, because all she could see was Spike, all she could breathe was him…as if he had suddenly set up shop inside and outside of her. For the past year, she had violently shoved away any reminders of him, and now everywhere she turned he was there.

Haunting her.

It was all Angel’s fault. Buffy didn’t think it was possible for her to hate someone more. How dare he show up, mock her with his mortality! Did he expect that Buffy would fall to her knees, have a swift change of heart just because his was beating now?

Did he think dangling the idea of Spike in front of her face was somehow going to change things? Angel was a stupid man and Buffy didn’t understand why she hadn’t seen it sooner.

But now, that was beside the point.

Angel was gone. He’d rushed back to his precious Los Angeles and left Buffy alone with the knowledge of Spike’s betrayal, as if it hadn’t mattered at all. And now she was angry, lonely and so tired of crying all the time. Would it ever be possible for her to just live her life and not have a constant reminder of the past hanging over her head?

Apparently not.

Now she would be forced to walk around, live her life with the knowledge that Spike had been alive all along. Yet, she couldn’t shake the something-different feeling that had been plaguing her for the better part of three days.

Something inside of her had shifted dramatically last night.

When she had finally released some of her pent up stress and tension it was like a veil had been lifted from her eyes.

Buffy needed to know the truth.

All of it.

Now.

A strange presence like none Buffy had ever felt before seemed to be following her. It remained hidden in the dark shadows and recesses of her peripheral mind, but it was there just the same. She needed to find out what it was, so maybe she could finally move on with her life.

Of course, that was before he walked into her life.


~**~


Tonight.

That was the only thing repeating in Spike’s mind as he made his plans from the interior of Buffy’s bedroom. For the past three days he had been adjusting, acclimating to his new status and for only one reason: Buffy.

This was his new mission. Righting the wrongs. Finding some semblance of an existence in his new body and finally revealing himself to Buffy. Why he was hesitating, Spike didn’t know. But being with Buffy last night had changed things. Dramatically. Seeing her face as she climaxed from his touch had been a bloody revelation and now Spike found that he could hardly tamp down his excitement.

So tonight would be the night.

Truths would be revealed and betrayals would be cast aside.

Daily, he saw Buffy’s pain and now she would have a chance to heal. Spike would receive the peace he craved, the solace he yearned for. All of these things lay within the shelter of her embrace, within the circle of those loving arms.

Spike couldn’t wait.

So, he followed her.

He followed her to the shower, the kitchen and to the office. He followed her to the café down the street where she took her coffee black and barely picked at the fruit salad on her plate.

Spike sat across from her and peered into the emerald gaze that held him mystified and tried to see around her pain. The deep hollows beneath her eyes showed a hundred different sides of her pain and magnified it to the highest power.

Spike wanted to take it away.

He wanted to hold her and feel the warmth of her embrace, not the numbness that had been plaguing him since he’d been poured into this new existence.

Guardian angel.

Pfft. It wasn’t a gift, it was bloody torture.

And after what occurred in the café a block from the Watcher’s Council, Spike’s torture increased.

He saw red.

He never saw it coming.


~**~

The coffee had long gone cold and Buffy pushed the mug away, along with the plate containing a fruit salad that she had barely touched. Resting her cheek on her palm, she stared off into space, surrendering to the thoughts that had been pricking at her mind all day.

When she resurfaced from the churning sea of emotions inside her brain, her gaze connected with the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen. Those brown eyes came with a magnificent smile, one with the power to hold any woman captive.

Safe to say, Buffy was captivated.

The man with the eyes and the smile approached her table and without a word took a seat across from her, extending his hand.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he explained as they shook. “I saw you here, alone, and had to come over. You are not offended, no?”

Buffy found herself giggling slightly at the inflections of the thick Italian accent that fringed his English. His appearance could easily be described as ‘suave’, even though Buffy never thought she’d use that term to describe a man. Hunky Italian guy came to mind, but ‘suave’ seemed to hang there, and so she settled for that instead.

He had the warmest brown eyes, complemented by a perfect olive complexion. He had thick unruly waves of chocolate brown hair, barely tamed by hair gel. His body was muscular, athletic, as if he worked out…often.

Buffy’s eyebrows lifted slightly in approval at the well-defined arms that his suit coat could barely contain. Her gaze roamed appreciatively over his attire, noting that he dressed impeccably. She had to like a guy who had a keen sense of fashion.

As they chatted, he revealed his name, which was Reese. And while the city of Rome was his home, he was only traveling through London on business. When Buffy inquired about his business, he was tight-lipped and slightly evasive as he smoothly changed subjects. Buffy hardly noticed the dodge, as she was finding herself being completely drawn in by the stunning man that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Maybe her luck was changing after all.


~**~

Bloody fucking hell!


Spike was pissed off and rightly so.

The poof that had introduced himself to Buffy, had taken a seat in the chair across from her, effectively sitting right on top of Spike. After regaining his equilibrium, Spike had watched in stupefied horror as this new poof swept in with sparkly eyes and toothy white smile, chatted up Buffy and then got to his feet. He withdrew a business card from his pocket and extended it to Buffy, who clasped it in her hand and smiled winningly in the man’s direction. Her gaze lingered on the man’s retreating back for long moments after he’d exited the café and this infuriated Spike to the highest degree.

How dare she?

How dare the mystery man with the goofy grin?

Spike was horrified, dumbfounded and at a complete and utter loss.

And then something occurred to him.

Spike knew the man, had encountered him once before over a hundred years ago. And now he had designs on Buffy.

The Immortal.

Bloody hell

Oh, the poof was going by a new name, was dressed in fancy clothes, but his M.O. was just the same. Suave, debonair, slick as oil businessman by day, underground puppet-master of the demon world by night. He wore secret identities as if they were the new fashion and tossed them away with ease, as one might toss out a worn pair of shoes.

Spike remembered The Immortal, remembered him well.

And now the bloody bastard had his sights set on Buffy.

In that moment, Spike tasted the bloodlust in his mouth. He hadn’t tasted it in a long time, not since his chip-head days. But it was there, lingering in his mouth, pulling at his gut. But it wasn’t human blood Spike craved.

No.

It was The Immortal’s.

He wasn’t human, now was he?

Suddenly, things had taken a different turn. Suddenly, Spike had to fight. Again. And judging by the appreciative glances that Buffy had been throwing Reese’s way, it was going to be a bloody battle.


~**~


Buffy lost count of how many times she pulled the business card out of her pocket and studied it. She lost track of how many times she flipped it over and gazed at the phone number scrawled on the back. By now she had memorized the phone number and everything else imprinted on the card.

Reese.

His first name was easy, but the last name? Huh. Buffy wasn’t even going to begin attempting to pronounce that one. There wasn’t an address, just a post office box and the number he’d scrawled on the back of the card…his cell phone.

The man was mystery and mystique all rolled into one.

Buffy had never been so intrigued in all her life.

This was a new step for her. She’d met a man…a charming man. He breathed, which was always a good sign, that and the whole ability to walk in sunlight thing. Definitely a change in her repertoire that was for sure.

Now she was sitting at her desk after office hours, hand poised over the phone. His business card was clasped tightly in her other hand, which trembled slightly.

The hand clutching the phone was slick with sweat as she mentally psyched herself up to dial the number. Swearing under her breath, Buffy picked up the phone, punched in the number and…hung up even before it started to ring.

Ok, Buffy, she coached herself, it’s really simple. Pick up phone. Dial number. Wait for answer. You can do it, girl. C’mon.

Buffy sighed, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she cleared her throat, ignored the wild fluttering of her heart and picked up the phone. Holding her breath, she waited as it rang on the other end.

After four rings, she was ready to hang up. Then his voice penetrated the phone line and Buffy’s heart flew to her throat. They talked briefly as he shyly asked her to dinner. Buffy hesitated a moment, and Reese was properly chagrined, but only for a moment.

He asked again.

Buffy bit her lip indecisively.

The moment of truth.

This was a huge decision.

It had been years since she’d been on a real date. Buffy didn’t count the sort-of date she’d had with Robin Wood back in Sunnydale. He’d ended up with Faith in the end, the story of Buffy’s life it seemed.

But now, the tables had turned.

There was a charming, handsome man interested in her. Buffy didn’t know a thing about him, yet found herself being drawn closer to him and wanting to stay there. It would be a welcome respite and a way to finally climb out of the black hole of despair that she had been living in since the fall of her hometown.

So, Buffy decided to take the chance.

What did she have to lose?

It was now or never and she’d be damned if she was going to stay miserable forever.

Buffy said yes.

She accepted.

A genuine smile lit her features as she replaced the phone back on the cradle and rested her chin in her hands. An unmistakable warmth flushed her skin as she prepared to leave the office.

She had a date.

It was time to live again.

At last.


~**~

Fuck, fuck…double fuck. Bleeding fuck.

Spike had witnessed the whole bloody mess. His stomach was twisted into more knots than he could imagine. He was pissed off…and scared to death. More scared than he’d ever been. Never in his wildest dreams had Spike imagined that Buffy would move on with her life. It hadn’t existed in his realm of possibilities. But now it was there, in his face, taunting him.

Buffy had met another man.

Every time the thought entered his mind, Spike’s fingers clenched into fists, his jaw tightened and the urge to throw something assailed him violently. What the bloody hell was going on? It wasn’t bleeding fair. Just when Spike had finally gotten his priorities in line, just when he’d made a decision…something unexpected happened.

But, was he really being fair to Buffy?

Was this going to be his final punishment for his betrayal?

Spike didn’t have a lot of time. The bargain he’d made with Althea couldn’t stick forever. Sooner or later she was going to run out of patience and with the flick of her wrist could have him turned to dust in the space of a heartbeat. A thought occurred to Spike in that moment as his hand thrust into the pocket of his duster.

It was still there.

Spike closed his fingers around the jewel that Colin had given him and closed his eyes. The angel had said Spike had options, that if the need was dire, if it was absolute, than he should summon him.

No time like the present.

Spike withdrew the jewel from his pocket and studied it. It caught the light streaming in from the windows of Buffy’s bedroom and captivated Spike. He stared at it for long moments, thoughts weighing heavily in his mind. With a sigh, he dropped the jewel back into his pocket and closed his eyes.

Desperate times did not call for desperate measures all of the time. Spike still had other options. He still had time to capitalize on his feelings, to change things. His train of thought was interrupted by the opening and closing of Buffy’s bedroom door.

His eyes followed her around the room as she undressed. He couldn’t help smiling at the jaunty tune she hummed as she went about her nightly routine. But, the smile dropped from his face when she pulled the business card from the pocket of her coat and tacked it to the bulletin board on the nearby wall.

Bloody hell.

It was time to act.

It was time to take control of a situation that was slipping further and further out of his grasp.

Spike was never one to have a wait-and-see attitude. He was about action, about living for the now.

It was time.

He waited a moment as Buffy sat at the vanity table and ran a brush through her hair. He waited as she tossed clothes for the next day onto a chair…and then the moment arrived.

Magic time.

Closing his eyes, Spike concentrated. He concentrated deeply, regulating his breathing, imagining the molecules of his body aligning, shaping themselves into solid form. When his eyes slowly opened, he was staring directly into a stunned pair of emerald eyes. He couldn’t help the slow wicked grin that spread across his features as their eyes met.

“Hello, cutie.”

And then the world went black as a vicious right hook slammed into his jaw, hurtling him so violently across the room that he lost consciousness. His last notion was a sliding sensation as his body slumped to the floor and his last thought…

Bloody hell!


End of Chapter Seven


~*to be continued with chapter eight: the silence is so loud*~

Chapter Eight

~*The Silence is So Loud*~


~**~


What a way to wake up. A deep emerald gaze was the first thing Spike saw when he opened his eyes. Drowning came to mind. That and the searing pain that blazed a trail from his jaw to his left eye where Buffy’s fist had connected with his face.

She was crouched beside him, a frown crinkling her features, forehead puckered in confusion. He sat up slowly and for long moments the two regarded one another, as if trying to decide if either one of them existed.

Spike was apprehensive about getting to his feet. He feared that if he did he wouldn’t remain upright for long, because he was sure to get another punch to the face, and that was something he wanted to avoid. Spike knew that the punch had been one of Buffy’s basest reactions. Hit first, ask questions later.

Just like old times.

Buffy was the first to stand. Spike took the chance and did the same. The silence seemed to envelope the room, roll around them in great waves. The tension was heavy and thick, laced with the questions that neither of them wanted to ask, but hung in the air just the same.

Spike suddenly felt uncomfortable. He stared at his feet, shifted his weight and did everything in his power to avoid the questioning looks that mirrored back at him from the depths of Buffy’s penetrating gaze. He wondered, in that moment, if he had made the right choice. After all the years he’d spent walking the earth, he thought that he would have learned a lesson or two about rash decision making.

Obviously not.

Judging by the silence that he was receiving from Buffy, he hadn’t learned a damn thing at all.

Bloody hell.

Spike closed his eyes. He had gone about this all wrong. It was time to go. He concentrated deeply and just as he felt his form beginning to fade, her voice pierced the silence, shattered it like glass.

“Wait!”

The plaintive cry of that one word passing from her lips brought Spike’s head up abruptly. His eyes narrowed as he met her gaze, his mouth opened to speak. She did not allow him to utter any words, instead pressed a finger to his lips, silencing any pleas he could have made.

The brush of her finger against his lips caused Spike’s knees to buckle, as he searched her eyes questioningly. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if something had pierced his heart deeply. He saw tears swimming behind Buffy’s troubled emerald stare and identified the pain that throbbed painfully inside of him.

“Don’t,” she whispered, “just don’t.”

Once more Spike tried to explain, but the insistent pressure of her finger against his lips inhibited the flood of words that wanted to escape his mouth. Buffy took a step closer and he involuntarily drew in a quick breath as her eyes traveled over his body languorously. He couldn’t stop shaking. Her perusal of his features, his body, was so scrutinizing that he felt as if he were under a microscope.

Nothing had ever felt so good.

So he remained silent and allowed her to look as long as she pleased.

The shimmering depths of her hazel stare took in everything. Hair. Eyes. Nose. Lips. Chin. Buffy overlooked nothing, she drank him in, swallowed him whole. Now her eyes were traveling over his arms, chest and torso, landing briefly at his narrow hips and lingering at his groin, which tightened immediately in response.

Spike shifted slightly, hoping the evidence of his arousal couldn’t be seen. But the blood that was rushing hotly in his veins couldn’t be denied. The smoldering weight of her stare in the direction of his most intimate area caused the same reaction it always did.

Want. Need. Desire.

Spike desperately tried to tamp the feeling, but it was a losing battle. Buffy lifted her eyes once again to his, as if testing his reaction. The moment their gazes locked, Spike balled his hands into fists. It was taking everything he had to keep his feet from moving, to keep his arms from encircling her, his mouth from crushing to hers. His desire was so great, he trembled. Buffy took a step back and Spike valiantly fought to keep himself in control.

Her perusal continued.

Spike felt like he was on the brink of eruption. But his mind flooded with questions. Minutes ticked by like hours. Buffy had said so little since his sudden appearance. He wondered if she was happy, sad, or just pissed off. The punch hadn’t been unexpected, but this silence…God, it was killing him.

So he took his chance.

“Buffy…love…let me explain…”

And once again he was tumbling into darkness, his body in motion as it sailed across the room. He hardly felt the punch this time, was grateful for the unconsciousness that flooded him instantly.

It was a start.


~**~


Buffy sank slowly onto the bed, resting her head in her hands. Her mind was racing, a cold of sweat had broken out all over her body and she couldn’t stop shaking. The uncontrollable shiver seemed to radiate from the top of her head to the tips of her toes…but she wasn’t cold.

Her teeth chattered and she clenched her jaw. Lifting her head, she raised a hand to her face, staring at her trembling fingers. She clenched her fingers into a fist and lowered her hands to her sides.

Questions, questions, questions…so many questions. Buffy’s brain could barely contain them all. It took everything she had inside to slide a glance across the room, to see his body crumpled in a heap against the wall. The familiar leather duster had bunched around his body, covering his face. The shock of platinum hair brought the truth home just as violently as a baseball bat to the gut.

Buffy wheezed as the air suddenly seemed to leave her lungs. Was this real? Was this really happening? She got to her feet and paced the room, almost expecting a hole to appear in the carpet where she treaded mindlessly.

Quick glances in the direction of the body across the room caused her heart to pound, her palms to sweat. She pressed her fists to her head and tried to will the image away, but it was still there, nothing she could do to make it disappear.

Spike…

Jesus Christ…it was Spike…

He was in her bedroom.

He was here…

Jesus…oh Jesus…

Buffy had the sudden urge to hyperventilate. The nausea that rose in her throat signaled another bodily reaction. Her features crumpled as she pressed a hand to her mouth and raced from the room, barely making it to the bathroom where she lost her lunch into the sink. Her body sank to the floor slowly as she stretched herself out, pressed her cheek to the cool tiled surface and willed herself to breathe…just breathe.

Long moments passed before Buffy could regain the strength to rise to her feet. She wavered unsteadily as she walked to her bedroom. She didn’t dare glance in the direction of the far wall, but it was as if her mind wasn’t cooperating, because instantly her eyes were taking him in once again.

Was a she a goddamn glutton for punishment?

Why couldn’t she stop staring at him?

Why was here?

Where had he come from?

Oh God…what the hell is happening? What’s happening to me?

Those were the last thoughts Buffy had before she crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.


~**~

Spike groaned and sat up slowly. The room spun a little as he got to his feet. He could understand the first punch, but the second one had come out of nowhere. Buffy was scared. Her instinct had ruled the first strike, but fear had caused the second one.

Clutching his head, Spike stumbled a few feet and brushed against something hard. It was a leg. Buffy’s leg. She was laid out on the floor unconscious. He got to his knees beside her and cradled her head in his hands.

He could hear the soft whisper of her breathing and felt a pang of guilt. He had done this. Rarely if ever, could he remember Buffy passing out. A rank scent assailed his senses and Spike identified it instantly.

Vomit.

She’d thrown up.

Spike battled with new emotions of anger and shame. His sudden appearance had traumatized her. This was not how Spike had envisioned this happening, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he had expected it.

Blinking back tears, Spike gently lifted Buffy’s body in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he deposited her gently. Taking several steps back, he tried to get a handle on the situation. Suddenly things had begun to spin wildly out of control and there wasn’t anything that Spike could do.

For the first time in a very long time Spike felt helpless. Sinking into a chair, he dropped his head into his hands and took long slow breaths. There was no turning back now; he was in it for the long haul. Slowly he lifted his head and glanced in Buffy’s direction. She looked peaceful, her features relaxed and almost serene. Spike felt his heart ache painfully. He knew what he had to do.

He would stay until she woke up.

And then he would explain…everything.


~**~


He was in her dreams. They were standing face to face in her bedroom, not speaking, barely moving. In her dream she reached out a hand and cradled his cheek in her palm. A slow smile spread across his alabaster features, azure blue eyes widened with awe and happiness. And then a kiss…long, languid and sweet.

The crush of his cool lips pressed against her warm flushed ones ignited a powerful spark within dream-Buffy that was hard to ignore. Then the dream fell away and the world came rushing back. She opened her eyes and squinted, the light from the lamp nearby piercing her eyes and sending painful shockwaves straight into her brain.

Groaning, she got to a sitting position, pressing her head back against the pillows of the bed and sighing. Running her tongue over her dry lips, Buffy tasted the vomit in her mouth and suddenly it all came rushing back. She bolted upright, eyes wide, gaze searching until she found what she was looking for.

Him.

Her heart swelled painfully in her chest as her eyes took him in. He was slumped in the chair across the room, his legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped on his chest as he slept. His head was tilted crazily to the side and he snored softly.

Suddenly, the emotions that Buffy had been holding back rose to the surface. She tipped her chin to her chest and began to sob. For long moments her shoulders shook as she wept. Once the sobs subsided, Buffy wiped the tears away and slowly got out of bed.

Trepidation shadowed each step she took as she neared the sleeping vampire. Getting to her knees at his side, she reached out her hand curiously, her fingertips grazing his cheek. She retracted them quickly when he stirred. Buffy held her breath and waited. When Spike showed no signs of waking up, she continued her investigation.

She rested her fingertips against his cheek, gently stroking the bruise that was beginning to form there. Her heart constricted painfully as she gazed at the mark her fist had left behind. Punching him had been gut instinct, punching him the second time had been a product of her fear.

Truthfully, Buffy was petrified.

More petrified than she’d ever been in her life.

She’d faced so much…demons, monsters, gods…and hadn’t batted an eyelash.

But this…this…

Buffy shook her head. She was having trouble wrapping her mind around everything, as if the knowledge of Spike’s existence couldn’t fit inside her brain. She stared captivated at the gentle brush of his eyelashes against his cheek. Her gaze lowered to the soft curve of his lips, the strength of his jaw and the breath left her body. The hand that had rested on his cheek now pressed to his chest. Her head lifted abruptly at the realization that his heart still did not beat.

Spike was still a vampire.

Buffy again wondered how this was happening…how Spike was suddenly just there…as if he had appeared out of thin air. One second she’d been alone and the next he’d been standing before her.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and halted Buffy’s train of thought. She rose to her feet slowly and glanced around the room, eyes narrowed. A distinct presence had changed the air around her and Buffy could sense it with every breath she took.

Something was coming.

She blinked and gasped, taking a large step back as a being materialized before her eyes. She opened and closed her mouth, struggling to speak, but failing…finding out there were no words to speak as the being edged closer.

He was a tall man, with dark brown hair and eyes as black as coal, but shimmering like oil. He wore a long black trench coat, similar to Spike’s duster, but not made of leather. The material swept around his legs as he inched closer to Buffy. She took another step back as he neared her, reaching out his hand.

She took one look into the depths of his murky black eyes and felt peace, swift and sure wash over her. Whoever or whatever he was, he wasn’t going to hurt her. She felt it deep within as the being faced her. Finally, Buffy found her voice.

“W-who are you?” she stammered shakily.

The man smiled sweetly.

“A friend,” he remarked, folding his arms over his chest and regarding Buffy evenly.

Buffy’s narrowed her eyes.

“You got a name, friend?”

The man tipped his head back and chuckled.

“I’m terribly sorry. I’m Colin, pleased to meet you,” he answered, reaching out his hand to Buffy. She grasped his hand and shook it slightly, delighting in his wince at her strong grip. “And you would be Buffy, correct?”

Buffy pulled her hand away from his abruptly and leveled her gaze on the man before her.

“How do you know my name?” she asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing once again.

“It is a terribly long story and I have only come to pass along a message on behalf of our friend there,” Colin stated, nodding slightly in Spike’s direction. Buffy turned to gaze at the sleeping Spike passed out in her chair, and then turned to Colin.

“Just tell me who you are…o-or what you are,” she said. Colin clasped his hands in front of his body and rocked on his heels, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he stated simply.

“Why does everybody think I can’t handle things?” Buffy cried out in frustration as she tipped her head back and rolled her eyes. Once again she leveled her gaze on Colin. “Just tell me, ok?”

Colin sighed heavily and shook his head. After a moment of silence he lifted his gaze to Buffy.

“I am a guardian, a guide. I was chosen to walk by Spike’s side, lead him to his journey.”

This answer did not suit Buffy. She was frustrated, confused. Her head had started to pound. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and made a sound of frustration in her throat.

“I’m not in the mood for games,” she began, “I just want answers. I was told that Spike…h-he died…in Los Angeles. So how is that he’s here? How can this be happening? Just when I…”

She broke off and lowered her head as a lump rose in her throat, cutting off the words that she wanted to say. Buffy didn’t know how Colin had crossed the room so quickly, but now he stood beside her, a gentle hand placed on her shoulder.

“I cannot address the questions you have. I can only tell you that Spike has been chosen to serve a greater good. He has been given a gift…but with a price. All I can say is that you must relent, you must give him a chance.”

“Why?” Buffy asked, lifting her head and meeting Colin’s eyes. “Who decides about giving chances?”

Colin opened his mouth to speak, but Buffy halted his words with a lifting of her hand.

“No,” she shook her head vehemently. “How can you expect me to be so willing to hand out chances? Why should I offer what was never given to me in the first place? It’s not very fair, you know.”

Colin’s brows lifted at Buffy’s questions.

“Who are you to speak of withholding second chances? And fairness? Wasn’t it you that told Spike he would never be granted what he most desired? Wasn’t it you that rejected him time and time again? If anyone is on trial here, it is most certainly you,” Colin replied. Buffy lowered her head and shook it, exhaling slowly through her mouth. This guy wasn’t holding back…he was going right for the jugular.

“That was different,” she murmured softly. “There were circumstances…you didn’t know the Spike I knew. You haven’t seen what a monster he was before…”

Colin cut her off with a harsh laugh.

“There is much I have seen, Slayer. Don’t dare to presume what I know and don’t know.”

Buffy allowed his words to wash over her. She knew he was right. Why did it seem that everyone could so easily walk through her barriers and see right through them, see the truth? How come she had so much difficulty identifying these things within herself?

She sighed heavily, feeling the weight of Colin’s unwavering stare in her direction, and suddenly needed to sit down. There were too many things happening right now, and Buffy felt as if she was being pushed and pulled in two different directions, emotions wreaking havoc on her fragile mind, her tenuous heart. It was just too much and she was exhausted.

Wearily, Buffy trudged to the bed and sank slowly onto it, feeling as if a heavy load had suddenly been dropped upon her shoulders. In the brief moments since Colin’s appearance she felt as if she was being stripped away. Exposed.

No one had ever dared to penetrate the brick walls she had erected around herself over the years. Not her family and certainly not her friends. There had only been one attempt. Slowly, Buffy’s gaze traveled to where Spike slept, his body sprawled carelessly on the chair across the room. Her heart felt heavy.

He had tried.

God, he’d tried.

But Buffy had pushed him away, shot him down time and time again. Was Spike truly the monster in all of this…or was it Buffy herself? Colin settled himself beside her on the bed. Silence hung between them. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and she turned to the being at her side.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.

“Listen to him. Listen to what he has to say,” Colin replied and then turned his head to meet Buffy’s gaze. “You have witnessed his sacrifices, played a part in his redemption. It is because of you that he is here today. His will is strong and I believe that it is that will that is responsible for his presence here today.” Colin got to his feet and regarded Buffy once more as he continued.

“You are the key to his salvation, the only thing tying him to this plane. He loves you with an intensity and a tenderness I have never seen exhibited by a man before…or a monster for that matter. Second chances, Slayer,” Colin said as he began to fade away, “are not prizes to be won. They are earned. It goes both ways.”

With those final words, Colin dissolved and faded away. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, the being’s words penetrating deeply into her mind. She had a lot to think about, a lot to deal with. Lifting her head, her gaze traveled to Spike, who had slept through the entire exchange between herself and Colin, and a small smile played over her lips.

Maybe it was better that way.

For the first time since his arrival, Buffy truly drank Spike in. She got to her feet, walked across the room and stood before him, her gaze never wavering. Buffy didn’t know the exact circumstances of Spike’s arrival. Maybe she didn’t want to. What she did know was that he traveled a great distance, overcome overwhelming odds, just so that he could be with her. It was Sunnydale all over again. Spike and his tireless attempts to prove the depth and width of his love for her.

Could she really turn a blind eye to it all? Would she allow herself to be that heartless and cruel? Buffy sighed so heavily that the motion caused her body to tremble. She sank to her knees at Spike’s side, not daring to touch him, only allowing her eyes to travel over him slowly.

This was not going to be easy.

Buffy knew that she and Spike had a long and sordid history together. They had hurt each other in countless ways. Sorting through it all was a task that she dreaded and she asked herself if it was really necessary. Colin’s words pricked at her mind once again.

Second chances were not prizes to be won.

They were earned.

Just like trust.

Forgiveness.

But was it too late?

Could anything be salvaged between Buffy and Spike? Were they so broken that no matter what they did the pieces could never be picked up? Was it even worth it? Buffy tipped her head to the armrest of the chair, resting her forehead on the upholstered surface and closing her eyes.

She could smell him.

Buffy was so close to touching him, but she did not. She resisted. Instead, she got to her feet and regarded Spike once more with a withering glance. Moments later, she was climbing into bed and pulling the covers around her. Once the lamp light was extinguished, Buffy’s eyes closed immediately, almost as if she were willing herself to sleep, rather than allowing it to wash over her naturally.

Spike’s presence in the room was hard to ignore and Buffy found that sleep did not come as easily as she had hoped it would.

Everything was different now.

The question was would Buffy be able to accept the terms that had been laid out for her?

Or would she walk away just as she always had?

Both of these things took strength.

And at the moment, Buffy didn’t have a lot of it.

That was the last thought to cross her mind as her eyes fluttered shut…as sleep took over.


~**~


End of Chapter Eight

~*to be continued with chapter nine: everything is different now*~