Chapter 15:

A/N: First of all, sorry about the cliffhanger, I had to get off the computer cuz of this huge test I had in English the next day. Sigh...gotta love stupid teachers who give you tests on the last day of school before spring break :) Also, for those of you who read this chapter and think I’m insane cuz of all the police & hospital stuff, a disclaimer up front: I have NO IDEA how this stuff really works, lol, so if I get it wrong, sorry, I’m to lazy to research :) Anyway, you guys are probably sick of my prattling, so back to the story~~

~*~

Buffy froze, fear rising in her. “What...what happened?”

“It’s against policy for me to inform you over the phone, ma’m. Can you reach the hospital?”

“Um...”Buffy frantically tried to think of who would give her a ride. Anya didn’t have a car, Cordelia’s was in the shop, so that left—

No. I can barely look him in the face, much less asked him for a ride! But this was Dawn’s life she was considering. She couldn’t afford to let her pride or her feelings stop her from getting to her sister. “Yeah. I think so.”

“She’s on floor seven. And m’am...come prepared to answer some questions.”

“I will be. Thanks.”

Buffy hung up the phone. Fear and near-panic were swirling inside her, but a new emotion was growing: anger. Pure, homicidal fury, directed toward the man she knew had hurt her sister. “I swear to God,” she whispered as she began to run in the direction she’d seen Spike walk, paint completely forgotten, “I will find him and kill him.”

After a few minutes’ agonizing running, she saw him at the end of the hall. “Spike!” she yelled. “Spike, wait!”

He stopped. His shoulders tensed and he looked annoyed, but he stopped.

He turned around, an agitated expression on his face—but the agitation was replaced with worry when he saw the look she wore. “Buffy? ‘S somethin’ wrong?”

“It’s Dawn,” she explained breathlessly, leaning on her knees in an attempt to catch her breath. “Something’s happened. I think....Oh God.” She crumpled as the images began to run through her head.

He ran to her side and held her up. “Think what, luv?”

That single endearment helped bring her back to reality. “I think it was him,” she whispered.

Close as she was, she felt every muscle in his body tense up. “I’m going to bloody—“

“Kill him. That’s what I said. But right now, I need a ride to the hospital. They won’t even tell her what’s wrong until I get there.”

“C’mon then. Let’s go.”

They both fairly ran out to his car, and when he hit ninety before even leaving the parking lot, Buffy didn’t complain. She wasn’t sure what had happened back there in the school. She would worry over it for hours on end, probably—but not right now. Right now her sister was in very real danger, and she had to get to her as fast as possible.

Ordinarily it took at least two hours to reach LA from Sunnydale, but Spike got them to the hospital in just under an hour. Buffy didn’t even wait for him to cut the ignition before jumping out of the car. She ran to the front of the building, Spike sprinting after her.

“I’m here to see Dawn Summers,” she gasped, trying frantically to catch her breath.

The receptionist typed the name into her computer. “Relative?”

“Sister,” Buffy confirmed. God, please let her be okay, please, she thought, fighting back tears.

“Floor seven, room C-18,” the receptionist said.

“Thanks,” Buffy told her, just as Spike skidded to a halt beside her. “Room number?”

“C-18, seventh floor. Let’s go,” Buffy replied. They ran to the elevator and hopped on.

Buffy’s face turned pasty when she saw Dawn lying unconscious in the hospital bed. Her face was bloody and bruised, her arm was in a splint, and an IV was in her wrist. “Oh...my...God...” It came out as a whisper.

“Fuck,” Spike swore softly. “Poor Bit. What happened?”

The doctor in the room spoke up. “Severe head trauma, in addition to a broken arm, sprained ankle and various other injuries, including severe bruising in the thigh and genital area.”

“Ms. Summers, may we talk to you briefly?”

For the first time, Buffy noticed the police officers standing in the room. “Is she...is she gonna be okay?” Buffy whispered.

“She’s under medication now, but yes, given time she should recover physically.”

“Ms Summers—“

“Hey. Back off, mate.” Spike glared at the insistent officer. Buffy ignored the display, walking over to the bed like she was in a daze.

All this time, I thought she was okay. He never touched her. And now—he did this— Her thoughts fragmented as guilt wracked her system. She should have told somebody. Why didn’t she tell anybody? This was her fault, that bruise, that horrible look on her little sister’s face, the look of someone who’d been terrorized more than anybody should be—it was all her fault.

She brushed a single finger against her sister’s pale wrist. “Dawnie...” she whispered, staring at the inert body of her usually so lively sister. Daddy hurt her. He couldn’t hurt me so he hurt her instead. Oh GodohGodohGodohGodohGodohGod—

“Buffy? Pet? The coppers here say they have to talk to you.” Spike covered the hand on Dawn’s wrist with one of his own. “I’ll look after the Bit, see if Doc over there has any more info for us, okay?”

Buffy again shook herself to awareness. Dawn had been hurt. The time for feeling sorry for herself and sinking into near-catatonic state was over. She’d deal with the flashbacks later.

She smiled briefly at Spike, letting him know she was okay, before turning to the policemen. “Can we talk in the hall?” she asked. Her voice only quavered a little.

“Of course, Miss,” one said. They followed her out of the room.

“It was my dad,” she said as soon as the door closed.

One of them, a short bald man, blinked. “You sure?”

“Thigh trauma? I’m guessing he raped her.” God, how could she be so calm?

Because I have to be. Because if I fall apart now, I’ll never be able to bring that bastard to justice. Touching Dawn was for her the last straw.

“Your assumption is correct,” the other one, skinnier than his partner, replied.

“Right. It was him, then. Our mother’s dead and none of her friends would do that. He’s been molesting me for years.”

“And you didn’t say anything? The police—“

“Would have been able to do nothing about it.” Buffy stared hard at the two men in front of her. “He never left any marks, any solid proof. Dawn’s your proof, now. I’ll testify if you want me to—God knows I’ve got enough to testify with—just bring him in, please, before he hurts someone else.” Where, she wondered, had that strength come from?

The police were greatly impressed by the girl in front of them. They’d dealt with countless victims of molestation and/or domestic violence, but not a one of them had been as strong, as single-mindedly brave, as the girl now standing in front of them.

“We’ll need details...” Skinny said, pulling out a pad of paper.

Buffy sighed. It had hurt telling Spike, and it would hurt telling these men, too. But this was what she had to do. She knew that now. “It started when I was seven. He would—touch me—when I was being punished...”

~*~

Two hours and a Mountain Dew later, and the police were satisfied with her testimony. Buffy shuddered. Testimony. As soon as they went back to the LAPD station and got an arrest warrant, her father would be put behind bars to await his trial.

She assumed Spike was still sitting with Dawn. Spike. That was another problem. She’d been working so hard to avoid him, because it had been obvious he couldn’t handle her problems, and now she’d mired him in them deeper than anyone deserved to be.

She’d go in there and tell him to leave, to go back to Sunnydale. After Dawn woke up, Buffy would take a bus back to Sunnydale—or maybe she’d stay here. Dawn was homeless now, so Buffy would have to take care of her.

Either way, Spike needed to be out of the picture.

She walked back into the hospital room. “Spike? The police are gone. You can go now, too.”

Spike stood up immediately. “God, they had you there a long time. Are you alright?” His eyes were raking up and down her form, searching for any injury the police might have done to her. Buffy would have found it endearing if he hadn’t rejected that same body a few short weeks ago.

“I’m fine, Spike. Please just leave.”

“Oh no you don’t, Summers. You’re forgettin’ something.” Spike crossed his arms and glared down at her. “’Ve got the car. Until Lil Bit wakes up, I’m here to stay.”

Here to stay. Buffy liked that idea. Having Spike by her side, holding her, loving her...no. It’s never going to happen, Buffy.

“I think you’d better go,” she insisted, staring at the floor.

“Buffy, luv, stop it.” Spike’s voice pleaded with her quietly. “You came to me for help, remember? ‘Ve got every intention of giving it until I think you don’t need me. And right now, you do.”

“Spike, no,” she whispered, yet even then she was swaying toward him. “I can’t...I won’t...”

“Shh,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms like he used to, back when touching her brought them both delight. “You’ve had a horrific time, kitten. Just let it go for a minute.”

And it was tempting, oh so tempting, to obey him. To just forget all about her sadness and guilt and anger...

Anger. Daddy had raped her little sister. Dawn, the bright spot in her world, the one who was always there when she needed someone to talk to, no matter how many problems she had of her own. Wonderful, sweet, kind, giving Dawn.

She was going to find him. She was going to find him before the police could get to him, and she was going to kick his fucking ass.

She stiffened and pulled away from Spike’s embrace. “Spike—can you watch Dawn a little while longer?”

“Yeah, sure.” He frowned, searching her eyes. He could read her better than anyone else, and it was clear that he knew something was up. “Where you gonna go?”

“I’ve got an—errand—to run.” One that involved breaking a few bones. And ripping off a certain area of her father’s anatomy.

“Buffy—“ Spike grabbed her arms, roughly this time. “Buffy, look at me. Don’t you dare go anywhere near him, you understand? You want to give Dawn some company in the hospital, give her somethin’ to feel horrible ‘bout when she wakes up?”

Buffy stared at him with wide green eyes. “I thought you’d support me. You said—“

He straightened and sighed. “God, you’re so fucking stubborn. I’m more than a match for that Da of yours. You aren’t. ‘Specially not in the condition you’re in right now.”

Buffy sighed inwardly. Spike was so Goddamn protective. Even when she’d taken away all the reasons—devotion to your girlfriend, friendship—for him to be so, he still was. “You’re right, Spike.”

“Damn right I’m right. Now, you stay here, and I’ll run that errand of yours.”

“Spike. I just wanna go get coffee, k?” Buffy looked up at him innocently, willing him to believe her, willing the truth to not show in her eyes. “Just watch Dawn for a few minutes, please?”

She thought he bought it. He clearly didn’t like the idea of her going out of his sight, but he agreed to watch her sister. Buffy nodded at him curtly. “Thanks.”

She walked over to the bed and stared down at Dawn for a second. I’ll make him pay, Dawnie. When you wake up, Daddy will be gone forever. When Dawn woke up, she was going to hurt so bad. How would she be able to deal with it? Buffy herself was half-insane from the abuse she’d endured, and it was nowhere near what Dawn had suffered.

Maybe knowing he’s in several piece would help, Buffy thought viciously.

She brushed a kiss upon Dawn’s brow. “I should be back soon,” she told Spike, grabbing her purse.

“Make sure you are,” Spike said. She nodded once, curtly, and then walked to the door.

She was about to walk out of it when she hesitated. “Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happens, with me, with Dawn, with Dad, I want you to know...” She swallowed. Hard. She knew what she wanted to say, but there was no way she could say it.

“Thanks,” she said finally. “I haven’t given you any reason lately to help, but you did anyway, so—thanks.”

“Any time. Why don’t you go grab that coffee, yeah?”

“Right, then. Um. See ya.” Buffy almost ran out of the door.

*

Spike watched her go, staring off into space. He knew what she was going to do, just as he knew she’d kill him for trying to step in. His girl was always one for doing things on her own.

He stroked Dawn’s brow. His girl. Sodding hell.

I haven’t given you any reason lately to help, she’d said. She could know—she’d never know—the truth about that.

’Ve got reason, enough, kitten. I’m head over bleeding heels in love with you.

*

Buffy did in fact grab a coffee before leaving the hospital. If the showdown with her father was anything like she was planning it to be, she’d need the energy. It had gotten dark since she’d arrived, and she was dead tired.

She stepped out of the hospital and looked around, trying to decide where she could go to get to his apartment as quickly as possible. The street in front of her was a busy one, but she didn’t see any taxes, and the LA bus system was near-nonexistent.

Her eyes strayed to the alley in between the hospital and diner. If she cut through there and kept going down the street on the other side, she should be able to reach the apartment in under a half and hour.

Her mind made up, Buffy tossed her empty coffee cup into a trash can and walked over to the alley.

She hesitated. It looked really, really dark. What if some evil mob-guy like Al Pacino in The Godfather mauled her?

What if Daddy decides to rape another little girl?

She squared her shoulders, making up her mind. Evil mob-guys or not, she needed to get to that apartment, fast. The alley was the way to go.

She stepped into the alley and felt hands grab her and sharp steel prick her lower back. Someone had pulled a knife on her.

She tried to struggle, but the knife only pushed harder in. “Don’t move,” someone whispered harshly. He—Buffy knew it was definitely a he—propelled her further into the alley.

Panic was overwhelming her. Shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have done it, oh no what if he kills me, oh God Dawn...Spike...what have I done?

She was thrown onto the nasty, slimy ground. Her eyes widened when she saw the face of her captor. Oh—

“Hello, Buffy,” Hank Summers greeted her, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

GOD!

~*~

 

Chapter 16:
~*~

Spike’s eyes wandered around the room. His every nerve was screaming at him to go after her, to stop her from finding her father, but he knew that if he even tried she would hate him for the rest of her life.

His eyes fell on the walkie-talkie one of the coppers had left in the room. It was blinking silently. Frowning, he reached over and turned it on.

“—has fled the premises. All units should be on the alert for a white male, age approximately forty-five, height six feet. Suspect is suspected to be extremely desperate and therefore dangerous. Repeat: the suspected rapist Hank Summers has fled the premises—“

Spike heard no more. The man who’d terrorized his girl and raped the Bit was free, and Buffy was looking for him.

“Bloody hell,” he swore as he tore out of the hospital room.

*

Buffy stared up at her father. The two years of self-defense she’d taken fled her mind, to be replaced by pure, unadulterated terror.

He was going to kill her. And she was going to let him

All she could see, all she could remember, was him. Touching her, hurting her, laughing at her feeble attempts to fight back. That was all.

All there ever had been. All there ever would be.

Worst of all, there was no Spike to pull her out of it. Always before this, those few times when she’d started to drown in her own memories, he would pull her out. But now there was no one, just her and this man who had once been her father.

Just her.

Buffy closed her eyes briefly. Can’t do this. Have to fight back... she muffled a scream when she felt his hand touch her arm. It was like her memories were jumping out of her head, trying to hurt her. Can’t do this. Can’t...

And suddenly, something happened. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was. All she knew was that when he yanked her to her feet and she opened her eyes, she remembered something: she was Elizabeth Anne Summers.

And nobody messed with her.

Strength coursed through her as her fighting spirit returned. Hank had been talking since he’d said hello, but now he stopped. He had his daughter by both arms and was preparing to beat the life out of her...

And she was smiling.

His grip on her arms loosened. She smiled more widely, lifted her arms, and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Hello, Dad,” she said, before bringing her knee up to his crotch with such savage force that she felt his skin rip.

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” Hank screamed. Buffy jumped away immediately, surveying the damage. He was bent over at the waist, his hands protectively over his nether regions, leaving his face pretty damn vulnerable.

Buffy smiled and planted her fist in his nose.

“AAAAHHH!” Now one of his hand went to his nose. Buffy did a roundhouse kick straight into his stomach, sending him careening backwards.

“For years you hurt me,” she informed him as he lay in the garbage pile where he’d fallen, bruised and bloody. “And then you hurt Dawn. Now, I’m gonna hurt you.”

But he smiled like she had and stood up. “Go right on ahead, bitch,” he spat. “I’ll have you all the same.”

“’S that so?” a new voice drawled. “’Cuz seems to me she beat you up pretty bad, mate.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Spike,” she breathed.

He nodded to her but didn’t respond. She could tell by his tensed shoulders, the muscle in his jaw ticking, that he was more than ready to kill her father. She herself was more than ready to watch.

Hank didn’t seem to feel very threatened by the shorter man. “Who the hell are you?” His voice was contemptuous.

Spike grinned. “’M the man who’s going to give you some free plastic surgery.”

Before Hank had time to react, Spike grabbed him by the shirt and slammed his fist into the man’s face. Buffy heard the sick crunch of bones, and not just around his nose. Spike grinned fiercely when Hank screamed.

“That was for hurting the Bit,” he said, before shoving the man to the ground.

He delivered a kick with incredible force behind it to Hank’s stomach. Buffy heard the sick crack of rib bones. “That was for hurtin’ my girl all those years.” Spike’s voice was cold, vicious, a tone Buffy had never heard before. She was more than glad to hear it in relation to the beating of her once-father.

Spike hauled Hank up again and threw him against the wall. His skull cracked sickeningly on the wall. He slumped to the ground, whimpering.

“And that was ‘cuz I really don’t like you,” Spike finished.

With theatrical timing, a police car came to a halt outside the alley. Two officers ran to them.

“That’s your man,” Spike said, pointing to the bruised and bloody Hank.

One of the policemen walked over to Hank, picking him up, frisking him, and cuffing him. “You have the right to remain silent,” he said coldly. “Anything you say can and will be used against you, you worthless motherfucking worm.”

The other police officer looked at Spike questioningly. “Do I even want to know?” she inquired.

Spike shook his head. “’F it’s all right with you, ‘Ll just get the lady back home,” he said, wrapping an arm around Buffy protectively.

“You do that,” the officer said, winking at him.

“Right then. Let’s go, pet,” he said to the still dazed Buffy.

She nodded and walked with him back toward the hospital.

They stopped right outside the building. Spike sat down on a bench by the sidewalk, pulling her down to sit beside him. “Buffy, talk to me, baby. What happened?”

“He saw me, yanked me into the alley. I hit him.” Pride ran through her voice. Spike stared at her in astonishment.

“You what?”

“He was gonna hurt me. I hit him.” Buffy smiled slightly at the stunned look on Spike’s face. “I’m really alright, Spike. Promise.”

“You didn’t—I mean—“

“The flashbacks? Yeah, I got ‘em. But I pushed them away. I had to.” Buffy’s mind went back to that moment when she’d bundled up her memories and locked them down. “I don’t think they’ll be coming back.”

“So you’re sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll probably cry later. Right now I have to get back to Dawn.”

Buffy could tell he wanted to say more—she sure as hell did. She wanted to thank him for helping her, to ask—no, make that beg—for his forgiveness, and to kiss him until she was full of his taste and her fear went away. But instead she just smiled at him tremulously and stood up.

He followed. She was about to turn around and go inside when he put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

He leaned in and kissed her, softly, on the lips. “We’ll talk later, luv.”

Her eyes were wide open and she knew she looked shocked, but she said, “We’d better, mister. I’ve got some stuff to say.”

He nodded and placed a hand where the knife had been only a few minutes before. Buffy leaned back into it with a relieved sigh, and they walked into the hospital together.

~*~

Dawn woke up a few hours later. In her typical manner, she demanded to know where her father was. “I’m gonna rip his dick off and feed it to the dog,” she declared angrily.

“Um, Dawn? We don’t have a dog,” Buffy reminded her.

“I don’t care.” Suddenly she burst into tears. “He—oh God, Buffy, he—tried—“

Hope swelled in Buffy’s heart as she held her sister and let her cry. “Dawnie, honey, you mean he didn’t—?”

“No. I hit him, and screamed, and bit him. He beat me up and left.” She resumed her crying. Buffy stroked her hair softly. She didn’t even have enough energy to be furious anymore.

Of course, the Hank ass-kickage had helped.

She cried for a full fifteen minutes. Buffy held her sister gently, not saying anything, just giving her an outlet for all her fear and hatred. Spike left briefly, but he came back almost immediately to sit beside Buffy and pat Dawn’s back.

When her tears died down, Buffy said, “Hey, if it’s any consolation, me and Spike kicked his ass. And the police arrested him.”

Dawn glanced over at Spike. She’d noticed him before—he was majorly hot—but now a few things click. “Are you guys—“

“We were,” Buffy said, her throat closing up at how much she really, really wished she could answer Dawn’s question differently.

“Oh.” Dawn smiled at her sister. “So you beat him up? How? that must have been wicked cool.”

“It was.” Buffy grinned. “I hit him in the nose and kicked him in the balls, and Spike broke his nose, his ribs, and gave him a black eyes that’ll probably be there for awhile.”

“Too bad I couldn’t be there to help,” Dawn said grimly. “Wait—he’s been—to you?”

“For years,” Buffy confessed softly. “It’s over now.”

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed, leaning her head against Buffy’s shoulder. Buffy in turn rested her head on Dawn’s.

*

Spike was about to pull Buffy into his embrace when someone knocked on the door. It was probably a good thing they did. He didn’t know what she thought about that peck outside the hospital, but since she hadn’t jumped his bones, he figured he had no right to go ‘round touching her every two seconds. No matter how much I want to.

He walked over to the door and opened it, relaxing when he saw who stood on the other side. “Hey, Mum.”

“William? Are you okay? You called...what happened? Buffy? Who’s that? Oh God, are you okay?”

Spike grinned. “Relax, Mum. That bird’s Dawn, Buffy’s little sis, remember? And I think ‘ll let Buffy explain what happened.”

“Well please, let the explaining commence,” Giles said, stepping into the now kind of crowded hospital room. “I for one am quite confused.”

Spike cocked an eyebrow at Buffy. God, he was so proud of her. She had always been strong, but now it was there for the whole world to see. And she was so beautiful holding her sister. Her hair glowed and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek that Spike wanted to wipe off and replace with a kiss. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, making them seem even more green than usual. That in turn made him want her even more.

A pang passed through him. He couldn’t have her any more. He’d turned down his one chance to have her, have all of her. Sodding hell, I’m a fool.

He watched his girl draw in a deep breath before explaining to the two adults what had happened. Spike could tell she felt weird, explaining to two teachers, one of whom was her ex’s mum, but what she didn’t know was that they were planning on helping her out.

“So,” Buffy finished, having given the teachers the Reader’s Digest version, “Me and Spike kicked his a—um, anus.”

Giles smiled slightly. “I see.”

*

“Not to interrupt on all the fun confessional stuff, but are they planning on letting me out of here?” Dawn asked. “I mean, I’m kinda in some pain, but I’m ready to go home.”

“Home?” Buffy suddenly realized something: Dawn didn’t have a home. At all. “Um, Dawn, you don’t really have one.”

Dawn’s eyes widened when she processed that. It was true; Buffy was staying at Anya’s, one parent was in jail, and the other was dead. “Where am I gonna go?” she whispered, suddenly afraid.

Buffy patted her head softly. “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess you’ll be a foster kid or something...”

Giles cleared his throat softly. “Well, actually, that’s one of the reasons William called us.”

“See, starting at the end of the month, we’re moving in together,” Jenny explained. “And we figure, since Will cares about Buffy so much, and Buffy cares about you—“

“What m’ mum’s tryin’ to say is, they want you to be their foster kid,” Spike told Dawn.

Buffy and Dawn’s eyes widened in perfect unison. “What!?” They both yelled.

Dawn looked from adult to adult. A second ago, she’d thought she was homeless. Now...her face split into a grin. “I’d love to!”

Buffy was staring at Spike. Somehow, she knew it was he who had orchestrated this whole thing. He’d foreseen her little sister’s homelessness before even she had, and he’d come up with the perfect solution.

“Thanks,” she mouthed as Giles and Jenny started telling Dawn about the house they planned to buy. It was obvious they loved her already.

“You’re welcome,” he replied out loud.

They talked for almost an hour. Dawn was practically bouncing the hospital bed from excitement. Giles had called the nurse in, and as soon as the doctor signed the forms, Dawn would be free to leave the hospital.

Buffy was just glad that Dawn seemed to be recovering from Hank trying to rape her. She should have known Dawnie wouldn’t let a little thing like attempted rape get in the way of her happiness. Unlike me... she thought with a sudden burst of melancholy.

Dawn saw it and interpreted it as exhaustion. “Buffy, maybe you should let Spike take you home. It’s a Friday, right? Weren’t you gonna sleep over at Willow’s with Faith and Cordy and Anya?”

Buffy shook her head, stifling a yawn. “I’m fine here.” And she was. She really, really...crap, she thought as she yawned again.

“Uh-huh.” Dawn’s voice was skeptical. “Come on, Buffy. It’ll take a few more hours before they decide I’m good to go, and in the meantime you’re sitting around here doing nothing. I’m fine. Promise.”

Buffy scowled at her wide-eyed sister. Stupid writers, always knew how to make an un-arguable argument. “I’m fine here,” she settled on insisting.

“So, you’re not.” Spike came into her line of vision. “C’mon, kitten. ‘M taking you home.”

His eyes were so blue, so beautiful...Buffy yawned so hard her jaw cracked. OK, so Dawn was right. “Fine,” she muttered, standing up and grabbing her purse. She paused to land a kiss on Dawn’s forehead. “Love you, brat.”

“Love you too, doofus.” Dawn hugged her before she returned to conversing with her new foster dad.

*

Jenny cocked an eyebrow at Spike. “I won’t be coming home tonight,” she told him, “So lock all the doors and all that, okay?”

How in the world did she know that he was planning on having a houseguest and they wouldn’t want to be disturbed? He had the best bleeding mum on the face of the planet. “Right,” he said, nodding. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

He took Buffy’s small hand and led her out to the car.

*

Buffy remembered getting into the car and Spike driving out of the hospital parking lot. After that, it was blankness all the way home. She didn’t dream when she slept; she just rested, preparing herself for what would happen when they reached Sunnydale.

She woke when Spike turned off the car and shook her gently. “Buffy, luv, time to wake up.”

She cracked an eyelid open. The clock in the car blinked at her: 1:30. She’d slept for about three hours. “Five more minutes,” she muttered, burrowing into his shoulder, where her head had been resting—not entirely by accident.

“Sorry, pet, but you’ve got to get up.”

Buffy shook her head. Pressing her cheek into his shoulder really did feel good...she sniffed surreptitiously. Spike smell, a mix of smoke and leather and soap, surrounded her. God, she’d missed this so much...

But she couldn’t let him know that. Sighing, she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Okay, okay, I’m getting up.

Spike laughed at her child-like grumbling. “Good.”

“Hey,” she said as they got out of the car, “This is your house, not mine.”

“I know. I didn’t think you’d want to be all alone in that huge box Anya calls a house. You don’t mind, do you?”

How in the world could she mind when he was looking at her all worried, and his shoulders were hunched, and his scarred brow was cocked all sexily? She smiled at him. “I don’t mind.”

“Good,” he said again. They stared at each other for a moment, standing in front of the car under the floodlight affixed to the garage. If only I hadn’t broken up with him, she thought wistfully. This would be when he picks me up and carries me to his bed, and then we’d make love till the sun came up...

Instead, he broke their rapport by turning away and practically running up the steps. “We should get inside,” he called over his shoulder.

Buffy frowned at his back. “Guess so,” she grumbled. Stupid stubborn meany-butt, she thought immaturely as she followed him up the steps.

He flipped on the lights. Buffy had been in his house before, of course, so she hung up her coat as he walked into the living room. “I’ll make up your bed on the couch, okay?” he said. “’F you can just grab some sheets out of the linen closet...”

Buffy obeyed. She was on autopilot right now, not even really thinking about what she was doing, just following the orders he gave her. She’d had such a long day, and being so near Spike without being able to touch him was beyond infuriating.

“Here ya go,” she said, handing him the pink-flowered sheets. At least his couch was the cool kind that folded out to be a bed. It could be worse, right?

Wrong, she thought as she watched him make up the bed. He’s gonna be right above me, sleeping, and I won’t get to touch him! And God, did she want to touch him. It wasn’t about proving anything or making him happy this time. It was about the fact that she wanted him like crazy.

Spike finished tucking in the sheets. “Right then,” he said, standing up and turning to face her. “Guess you’d better lie down, then.”

Buffy stared up at him. At his broad chest, perfectly muscled. At that dear face, so familiar and yet so strange. At the expression that face wore, both frustrated and determined. At the feeling in those brilliantly blue eyes, the feeling that seemed to pour out of them when he looked at her.

There are times in life when all of a sudden, something becomes perfectly clear. Whether it’s the answer to a question in math class or a truly epic epiphany, when it happens, you have to act on it. If you’re in math class, you raise your hand and give the answer.

If you’re standing in your ex-boyfriend’s living room and there’s a made-up bed only a few feet away from you, and you’ve just realized that you’re completely, utterly, head-over-heels crazy in love with him, then you reach up and kiss him.

Spike gasped, and Buffy took advantage instantly. Their tongues twined together and she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her stomach into his erection.

After awhile they broke apart, gasping. Spike stared at her in disbelief. She smiled. He was so cute...”I’m not all that tired,” she informed him, nipping his earlobe.

“But Buffy—we can’t,” Spike said weakly. “It’d be—“

“Wrong?” she finished for him. At his nod, she sighed. She was horny as hell, but she’d have to be patient for awhile. Not everybody could have Earth-aligning epiphanies that night.

She released him, walked over to the sleeper sofa, and sat down. “C’mon, sit with me,” she urged.

He shook his head. “There is no bloody way.”

“Oh, come on.” She opened her eyes wide and bit her lower lip. “I promise I won’t try to ravish you. I just wanna talk.”

“Bloody—fine,” he growled, sitting down next to her.

She smiled slightly. He didn’t sound too happy about it, but he was willing to listen. That was good. It was a start. “Now, you’re gonna need to listen carefully,” she said solemnly. “’Cause I’m not going to say this twice, okay?”

“Right.” Spike nodded, all resistance gone. He had a feeling he was about to find out the truth about some things that had been driving him crazy.

Buffy took a deep breath. Okay. You kicked your dad’s pathetic ass, you can explain yourself to your ex. Come one, Buffy. Be strong.

“That night,” she began, and he flinched. “Yes, I know it was bad. I really did want you. But I think mostly...I offered myself to you so that you’d stay with me. After seeing Willow get crushed like she did...I was so scared that you didn’t want me.”

“Oh, baby, that’s not true,” he whispered, tilting her head up so that his eyes met hers. “Buffy, ‘ve wanted you since the second I saw you. Nothin’s ever going to change that.”

She smiled at him. “I know that now,” she said. “But then, I wasn’t so sure. And the thought that you might leave me made me scared. And fear, for me, is always tied in to Hank, and what he did to me.”

He squeezed her hands tighter. She squeezed them back, but she didn’t stop talking. This, like facing down her father, was something she had to do. “And then after the flashbacks stopped, I was so ashamed. I felt like a freak. I thought there was no way you’d ever want me. It hurt. So before you could hurt me even more by breaking up with me, I did it. I said goodbye.

“I went out looking for Hank tonight because of the flashbacks. They were ruining my life. They made me—they made me push you away. And when I saw him, it all came rushing back, like it had in the hospital, only this time, you weren’t there to make them go away.

“So I made them go away. All by myself. And then I hit him, and now—now I think I’m okay.” She reached a hand up and touched his cheek, feeling the wetness of his tears. “Spike?” she smiled at him tremulously. “I also realized something else tonight.”

She brought her face to his again. Tears streamed down her own cheeks as she whispered, “I love you. I love you with all my heart and I want to be with you so bad.”

Arms wrapped around her and held her tight. A pair of lips met with her cheekbones, kissing away her tears, making her laugh with pure joy. “I love you too, kitten,” he whispered, running his hands down her body, cupping her breasts. “So damn much.”

“Spike,” she breathed, clutching his hair. “Want you...”

“Love you...” He pushed her back. She landed on the bed, and then he was over her, kissing her, pleasuring her, worshipping her.

Then it was nothing but skin against skin, flesh molding into flesh, love filling and overflowing two ordinary people, made extraordinary by the simple fact that they loved and were loved.

When he entered her she gasped, shuddered, and sighed. When he moved, she clutched him. Their moans filled the air as they moved closer, closer...

They came together, screaming, sighing, clutching each other as their bodies rode out of the storm. Buffy sighed and snuggled closer as he pulled out of her. She felt so soft, so warm, so loved...

“I love you,” she whispered again, planting a sleepy kiss on his lips.

“And I love you,” he told her.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

~*~

 

Chapter 17:

~*~

It was five in the morning and the sun was beginning to rise. Buffy and Spike had made love for several hours before they both fell asleep. She didn’t know when he would wake up, but it was okay with her, seeing as how she got to watch him sleep.

She smiled softly as the memories of the early morning flooded her. He’d been as sweet and gentle as he was strong and passionate. She was left with few aches and wonderful feelings. In short, he was perfect.

Well, perfect except for a few things. Like the fact that he hogged the covers and his feet got majorly cold at night. And he had a weird habit of trying to sleep on top of her, like she was a walking, talking teddy bear or something.

But other than that, he was very close to perfect.

Best of all, she thought, snuggling into his embrace, was that he was all hers.

His arms tightened around her. She looked up and found herself caught in a very piercing gaze. “Regrets, luv?”

“Regrets? Um, no.” A wicked grin spread across her face. “Well, one. We never got to the part where you let me be on top.”

“Funny.” He rolled over, pinning her under him. “I remember you liking this position.”

She smiled and nipped his nose. “I like it here,” she informed him. “But I’m hungry.” She began to wriggle, delighting in the fact that even now, after several hours of sex and only a few hours of sleep, she could still arouse him. “I need something to eat.”

Bad choice of words, she decided when she saw the look that came on his face. “Too bad. ‘Ve got somethin’ to eat right here.”

“Spike!” she giggled, wriggling a little more. His arms came up to pin her to the bed as his face moved down her stomach, planting soft kisses all over. “Stop it! I really am hun—aaaaah,” she sighed, and her body became boneless again. “That’s nice...”

It was noon before they managed to get to the kitchen.

Buffy poured herself a huge bowl of cereal. She was suddenly ravenous. Hm, wonder why. Could have something to do with the sexy blonde who kept me up all night. She giggled.

“Somethin’ funny?” Spike inquired, raising his scarred eyebrow.

“Yeah. Just thinking about how hot Angel is,” Buffy replied.

“Oh, really? And what about the hot lil number, also referred to as your boyfriend, standin’ right in front of you?” He edged closer, placing two large, possessive hands on her waist.

“Is that what you are?” Buffy asked, suddenly serious. “My boyfriend?”

Spike put a hand over his heart. “Miz Summers,” he said, in an awful imitation of a Southern accent, “Are you accusin’ me of sleeping with a gal I don’t intent to stay with?”

“I dunno, Mister Calendar,” Buffy said, smiling. “You tell me.”

“’Ve got nothin’ but honorable intentions with you, luv,” he said softly. “I want you here, with me, always.”

“That’s nice, ‘cause that’s what I want, too.” Buffy leaned her forehead against his chest, inhaling his scent. God, he smelled so wonderful...

A door slammed. “Spike, I’m home, and we’ve got a serious problem. Buffy never showed up last—“

Faith stopped dead when she saw them in the kitchen, wrapped in an intimate embrace. Since Spike was in boxers and Buffy was in Spike’s t-shirt, Faith could pretty much guess what had happened.

A huge grin spread across her face. “It’s about fuckin’ time!”

They both whipped their heads around. Spike grinned ruefully at his twin. “Guess you caught us,” he said.

“We’ve got to tell them,” Buffy said softly, staring at Faith. This was going to be hard. Harder, maybe, than telling Spike, because she knew that no matter what, Spike would always be there. Faith and the others—could she trust them?

“All of it, Goldilocks?”

She could. Buffy nodded decisively. “All of it.”

“All of what? Wait a sec, B, what’s goin’ down?”

“We’ll tell you. Just get the others over here while we take a shower.” Buffy widened her eyes at Faith. “Please? I swear, I just want to explain some stuff.”

“This that dark secret Xander keeps blabbering about?” Faith asked.

Buffy rounded on Spike. “You told Xander?!”

“Didn’t mean to, pet, he just guessed.”

“Oh, okay.” She sighed in relief. “I thought for a second there I was gonna have to deny you the shower sex.”

“Wicked gross, guys,” Faith reminded them before they could continue undressing each other with their eyes.

“Sorry,” Spike said sheepishly. “We’ll be down in a little while, yeah?”

“And the others’ll be here,” Faith assured him.

“Great.” Buffy ran upstairs, Spike on her heels, both of them with images of soap bubbles and naked flesh floating in their minds.

~*~

When Buffy and Spike both came downstairs a half an hour later, they found everyone there waiting for them. Buffy gulped when she saw all five pairs of eyes affixed firmly on her. She knew she could trust them, but this was so hard.

And it’s always gonna be hard. There’s nothing you can do about that, so stop being such a baby! She raised her chin, clutched Spike’s hand, and sat down with him on the couch.

“So, I’m guessing Xander’s kinda told everybody I’ve got some big dark secret to tell. So, um, here it is.”

She took a deep breath. Spike wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her, lending her strength. She smiled gratefully at him as she began: “It was my dad, Hank Summers. He’s been molesting me since I was seven. Never the really bad stuff—not rape or anything, but it was...enough.”

”Jesus fuckin’ Christ. And you just lethim?” Faith said. Everyone else frowned at her, but she shrugged. “What? We’re all thinking it.”

“You’re right,” Buffy acknowledged quietly. She felt Spike tense behind her. “No, Spike, she is. If I’d been strong enough to tell someone, maybe Dawn wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“Wait—your dad hurt Dawn?” Xander frowned. “Is that why you were gone?”

“Yeah,” Buffy admitted. She felt herself again tense up at the horrible memories, but there was nothing she could do. “I went to the hospital in LA to be with her. Dad was there. I kicked his ass, Spike helped, and the police have him in custody awaiting trial for, like, fifty different charges.”

Silence met her announcement. Finally, Spike began to chuckle.

“OK, I fail to see what the humor is in Buffy being used as her own father’s orgasm toy for several years,” Anya snapped at him, and for once everyone seemed to agree.

“Sorry,” he apologized, holding up his hands, “’S just...you’re not one for big long storytellin’, are you?”

His comment was a weak joke at best, but everyone in the room smiled at it. Buffy tweaked his nose. “I doubt everyone wants to hear the nitty-gritty details.”

“Well, only if one of us were planning on ratting you out to the media so that we can get a few hundred bucks from your personal tragedy,” Anya said. “Which I don’t think any of us are.”

“Well put, Anya. Why not just let her know that we’re planning on selling her to creepy Chinese slave dealers or something?” Cordelia said sarcastically.

“I thought the slave dealer Italian, like the Mafia or something cool like that,” Xander said with a puzzled frown that almost looked authentic.

Buffy grinned at them sardonically. “Ha-freakin’-ha, guys,” she said. “No, seriously, don’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t understand why I kept quiet.”

“She’s right,” Willow said. “I mean, this is high school we’re talking about. They’d probably end up saying awful stuff like, um, she wanted it, or something.”

“Ew, Willow!” Cordelia exclaimed.

“Sad part ‘bout you Americans is, she’s probably right,” Spike said. “Best keep this quiet.”

“Anyway, about your question,” Buffy said, staring down at her hands. “It’s kinda like that old thing people say about suicide, y’know, is it the brave man’s way in or the coward’s way out? In a way I was being brave, protecting my family from the ugly stuff. But I also didn’t tell ‘cause I was scared.”

She felt Spike’s arms, which were currently around her waist, tighten sympathetically. She sniffled and snuggled back into him. “You alright?” he whispered into her ear.

She stroked his hand with a single finger and nodded. He shivered.

“Right, then. Well, now that you know Goldilock’s big secret, I think we’d best get back to bed. We had a long night, what with the hospital an’ all.” Spike stood up, hauling Buffy with him. She was about to protest when she felt his erection brush against her thigh. She giggled—something told her they weren’t going to be doing much sleeping.

“Right.” Xander’s voice was frankly skeptical. “I’m sure you guys are planning on getting in lots of rest.”

“Oh, please, Xander, cut them some slack,” Anya said, annoyed. “It’s not like we didn’t hump like bunnies the first few days we were together.”

Faith laughed uproariously at the humiliated look on Xander’s face. “Damn, Xand, didn’t know you could keep it up for that long!”

“Oh God, how did you know he could keep it up at all?” Cordelia squealed, and then, when Faith opened her mouth to answer, added hastily. “Never mind. I so don’t wanna know…”

Willow watched, smiling, as Buffy and Spike crept upstairs, unnoticed by the others due to Anya’s strangely timely remark about her and Xander’s sex life. She silently wished them well. Relationships were tough—she knew that as well as anyone—but Buffy and Spike looked like they were there to stay.

“So, guys,” she said brightly, as the conversation began to wind down, “Who’s up for the mall?”

~*~

Buffy and Spike stood still for a long time once they made it up the stairs, staring at one another silently. Buffy felt weary, drained, but also incredibly horny. It was an interesting combination…

Finally Spike reached out, trailing a single finger down her face. “You’re so beautiful, Buffy,” he whispered, his voice husky.

She closed her eyes and swayed into him, savoring the intimate contact. “You really think so?”

“Oh God, yes.”

“That’s nice.” Buffy smiled mischievously and skimmed one hand down, down, until it cupped his buttocks. The other hand splayed on his chest. “You’re pretty hot yourself.”

Spike let out a low growl before leaning down to ravage her mouth.

As he laid her down on the bed and began to kiss his way down her body, Buffy sighed happily.

Maybe—just maybe—things were going to be okay now. Maybe they’d get their happy ending.

Then his mouth touched her at the apex of her thighs, and all thoughts fled from her head for awhile.

~*~

“Oh my God, I’m gonna kill somebody!”

Spike stuck his head out of the bathroom and grinned at his girl. She was sitting on his bed, clad in only his t-shirt, staring at the screen with an adorable frown on her face. “Hope it’s not me, kitten.”

“No, I’m thinking Peter Jennings. Jesus, it’s only been two days! How’d they pick it up so fast?”

“You’re watchin’ the news?” He wrapped the short white towel around his waist and came to sit next to her. As soon as he saw the screen he knew why she was angry.

“—Seventeen-year-old daughter, Buffy Summers,” Jennings was saying. “Hank Summers will be tried in a California court for rape, attempted rape, and child molestation.”

Pictures of Buffy and Dawn were on the screen. Buffy scowled. “Look at that! How dare they put my school picture up there?!”

Spike stared at her, completely flummoxed. “You’re not mad ‘cuz everyone’ll know ‘bout your Da now?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly.” She leaned up and kissing him. Fire coursed through him, and the towel rapidly became a bit tented. “I kinda figured that would happen. I’m annoyed that he stuck a yicky picture up on national TV.”

“Mmmm…yicky?” he inquired, wrapping his arms around her waist and rolling her onto the bed. “Well, princess, ‘ve got an idea. What say I cheer you up a bit?”

“Aah!” she gasped as his fingers encountered the wetness in her panties. “That sounds good…”

Oh yeah, Spike decided as he felt his girl shudder under him, as his own orgasm swept through him as a result of her vigorous stroking, life was good.

~*~

Dawn had settled in nicely with Giles. Jenny and Spike were getting ready to move in with the English teacher, though Spike was still feeling more than a little weird about his mother living with one of his teachers.

Buffy and Dawn were sitting in Dawn’s room, gossiping. “So, you and Spike are like way happy now?”

“Oh, yeah.” Buffy smiled as she recalled the events of the night before. And the night before that, and the night before that…

“Okay, pervy fantasy grin,” Dawn said, wrinkling her nose.

“Sorry.”

“I can’t believe how big Dad’s trial is,” Dawn mused, staring at the ceiling.

Buffy threw her a shocked look. “Dawnie, I thought—“

“That I couldn’t talk about it?” Dawn shrugged. “It’s been more than a week, Buffy, and to tell the truth, I’ve blocked out all my memories.”

“So…all the talk isn’t hurting you?”

“Not a bit.” Dawn toed her bookbag and made a face. “Blech. Can you believe all the crap my teachers are trying to feed me about high school? ‘You’ll fail your first semester if you don’t do this, this, and this,’” Dawn mocked in a sing-song voice. “’You think my workload is unfair? Just wait until you get to high school!’”

Buffy smiled, setting her hair behind her shoulders. “It’s not true. High school sucks, but it’s not exactly hard work-wise.”

“Phew. That’s a relief.” Dawn rolled over. “Speaking of high school, isn’t that poetry reading soon?”

“Next week,” Buffy said proudly. She, Cordelia, and Anya were almost ready. “It’s gonna be the best yet.” Cordelia had pulled a few strings, and almost as many jocks and popular girls were going as Goths and punks. Giles seemed absolutely thrilled at their progress, if his remarks over dinner indicated anything.

“Knowing you, I’m sure it will be.”

“Dawnie! Buffy! We’re back!”

Buffy grinned at her little sister. “Hey, your new parents are home.”

“Ugh. I love them to death, but they are somushy…”

“That’s what Spike says.” Buffy patted her head. “You guys have a disturbing amount in common.”

“Spike’s cool—unlike some older siblings I could name,” Dawn said, grinning.

“Hey, that’s kind of incestuous.” Buffy frowned. “You’re my sister, and he’s like your step-brother, and I’m his girlfriend…major ick, I’m dating by stepbrother!”

Dawn laughed out loud at that. “Kinky much?”

“No, kinky is like handcuffs and whipped cream and stuff,” Buffy protested.

Dawn just raised her eyebrows at her sister. “And you’re gonna try to tell me you haven’t done that?”

Buffy’s face slowly turned red. Oops. “I…plead the fifth,” she said primly, bursting into laughter when Dawn squealed and smacked her with a pillow.

“So, you really think they’ll put him in jail?” Dawn asked. It was almost midnight, and the sisters had finally decided they’d better go to sleep.

“If they don’t I know several people who’d be glad to kill him,” Buffy said sleepily. She needed some major snooze time, but Dawn needed to talk. She could understand that.

“Good,” Dawn said woodenly. Then: “I hate him. Is that wrong?”

Poor Dawnie. She’s probably struggling every bit as much as I was. “I kicked his ass,” she responded. “Is that wrong?”

Dawn giggled. “I wish I coulda seen that.”

“You were lying in a hospital bed, unconscious. That’s why I beat him up in the first place,” Buffy pointed out. God, that had been a weird night, from the kicking Hank’s ass to the making love with Spike…she smiled contentedly. Spike. She’d get to see him in the morning…

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed. “Bastard.”

“Who, me?” Buffy made her voice astonished.

“No, dork! Hank.”

Good. Dawn was thinking of Hank as just some random sicko, not her actual father. Buffy smiled at her. “Yeah, he is. ‘Night, Dawn.”

“Goodnight.”

Buffy waited until her little sister was asleep before she crept over to the desk and pulled out paper and a pencil. It was majorly wiggy, but she’d started writing poems on her own, and she had the urge to write one just then. Stupid Giles. Had he put a spell on the house or something?

Maybe she’d present it at the reading. Spike had been trying to convince her to read one, saying that if she did then he would. Hm, interesting concept, she thought as she slowly got lost in the flow of words. Sexy Spike up on a stage in a dress shirt…oh yeah. Definitely gonna read onstage.

She grinned as she wrote. Yep, stuff was definitely getting better.

~*~
 

Chapter 18:
~*~

Spike leaned back in his front-row seat and grinned at his girl. Everyone, himself included, had already read their poems. Everyone, that was, except her. Now she was going to finish up the night with her poem.

He knew that she had written it that night she’d spent over at the Bit’s, but that was all. She wouldn’t let him see it, no matter how hard he tried to persuade her.

But God, did she look beautiful up there, all sparkly red dress and shining hair. He watched as she smiled nervously at the crowd, feeling a bolt of pride when almost all of them smiled back.

The trial was being aired on TV, so everyone knew who Miss Buffy Summers was, but the audience didn’t see a victim of ten awful years of molestation; they saw the beautiful, confident young woman who had organized the affair. That’s my girl, he thought as she raised a sheet of paper and cleared her throat, indicating that she was about to speak. Strong and smart and as pretty as they come.

Now, if she’d just read that poem of hers, his day would be complete. Well, almost. It’ll be really finished when I get her out of that little red number and into bed. But that, regrettably, would have to wait till they got back to his house.

He leaned back in the chair and gazed up at her as she licked her lips and prepared to speak. She was so breathtaking. Her heart, her strength, it all spoke to him in a way nothing else ever had. He’d known for some time, and tonight only reaffirmed it: he loved her. He loved her more than anything.

He even, he realized as she began to speak, loved the sound of her voice. He supposed that was as it should be. Damn right. That’s how it’s gonna be forever, ‘s far as I’m concerned! He and Buffy—they were for keeps.

*

“I’d like to end this gathering with a thank-you to everyone who came here tonight, especially those who decided to read their poetry,” Buffy began, smiling down at her friends in the front row. There was Cordy, with a man she’d met at the local library—Wesley, was that his name? Next to Wesley sat Willow and her now-steady boyfriend, Connor. Connor of course knew all about the thing with Buffy and Hank, and he was an accepted member of the group.

Giles and Jenny sat on either side of a beaming Dawn. Dawn had settled in perfectly with the couple, bonding with Jenny over the Wiccan religion and with Giles over some dry academic stuff Buffy knew she’d never understand.

“Believe it or not, a few months ago, I’d never written a poem in my life. Mr. Giles was kind enough to let me organize this event, and since then I’ve met several authentic poetry writers. It’s been an amazing experience.” She took a deep breath. The audience was staring at her intently, many of them smiling. Thank God they didn’t seem to be thinking that this was Buffy Summers, daughter of the now-incarcerated and widely abhorred child molester Hank Summers.

But she was still a little scared. The auditorium was huge, after all, and it was packed. Her eyes again strayed to the front row, finding Xander and Anya. Anya waved at her with the hand not being held by Xander. Faith was in the back of the auditorium so that no one would notice that her date was the Vice Principal of the school. Buffy wasn’t sure how that was going to work out, but they seemed happy enough. She just hoped they could keep their little relationship quiet until it was legal.

“The more poets I met, the more I realized what poetry is really about. I used to think it was just pretty rhymes and nice imagery, but the truth is that it’s so much more than that. It’s life at its purest—the happy and the sad, the agonizingly painful and the deliriously happy.” That was a little silly, wasn’t it? Oh well, it was also true.

So much had happened. Her eyes met Spike’s, and she felt the now-familiar jolt run through her body at the sight of his blue eyes. God, his eyes were one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

How, in only two months, had she come this far? How had she endured so much, fought so hard, and captured the ultimate prize? She didn’t know. She did know that for now until forever, she was determined to experience life as honestly as possible. No masks. No façades.

She reached onto the podium and grabbed the piece of paper sitting there, her eyes still connected with his. “I wrote this last poem after an amazing series of events that included both joy and pain. This poem is about more than just a single experience in life. This poem is my interpretation of life, how it is, how it should be, and how it can be, if we have the courage to make it happen.”

Silence reigned; the two thousand pairs of eyes in the auditorium were fixed on her. Friends and enemies alike, all wanted to hear what she had to say. So different from a few months ago, when she only expressed herself in the shadows, in secret. Buffy took a deep breath. Now all she had to do was bear her soul in front of all those people. Neat.

“The poem is entitled ‘Songs.’”

She looked down at the piece of paper, the poem she’d written that night with Dawn scrawled on it in pink pen. Well, here we go.

“The sun, the stars, the Earth
Dance together, dance to the
Song of Eternity
All can hear it.
Few remember it.
Few understand it.
The people, the animals, the plants
Dance together, dance to the
Song of Change.
All can hear it.
Few remember it.
Few embrace it.
The sun, the stars, the Earth
Dance together, dance to the
Song of Love.
All can hear it.
Few remember it.
Few experience it.
The people, the animals, the plants
Dance together, dance to the
Song of Sadness.
All can hear it.
Few remember it.
Few cherish it.
The sun, the stars, the Earth
Dance together, dance to the
Song of Life.
All can hear it.
All remember it.
All endure it.”

Buffy finished and put the paper down, her eyes again meeting with Spike’s. A rapport seemed to pass in between them as they looked at each other steadily. He’d become so many things to her, and she knew that it was the same for him. Friend, lover, confidant, all in one person. In so many ways, it was a miracle.

Silence, complete silence, was deafening in the auditorium for a second. Then Spike lifted his hands, still staring at Buffy, and began to clap. The rest of the Scoobies followed suit.

Then Dawn began wildly clapping, then Jenny and Giles, and then everyone else in the room, until Buffy’s ears were ringing with applause and her heart swelled with happiness. They like me. They really, actually like me!

She smiled and gave a little bow. “Thank you. Have a great night!” She stepped away from the podium, but the applause continued. She stood on the stage steps, hugging herself in happiness.

Who’d have thought that terrorized Buffy Summers would have the courage to stand on a stage and present something she’d written? Who’d have thought Buffy Summers would ever write anything?

It was wonderful. She felt wonderful.

And as the lights began to brighten and people began to gather their things, Spike mouthed something to her:

I love you.

And Buffy, tears in her eyes, ran down to him. As their lips met in a deep, warm kiss, she whispered her response.

“I love you, too.”

And they walked out of the auditorium with their hands around the other’s waist, delighting in the embrace, in the wonderful feeling of nearness they gained from one another.

Sometimes you get hurt. Sometimes you hurt so much, you want to die. But now she knew that you don’t have to hurt alone. If you have someone to help you, to hold you, even when everything is dark, then life is worth it.

To experience the joy, you have to endure the pain.

And now she could. She had life, and love, in the man in front of her.

Buffy turned to him in the parking lot, under the star-spangled sky, and kissed him, deeply and passionately, laughing almost deliriously as their lips melded perfectly.

And she was never going to let him go.

~*~

A/N: Well, it’s over! I wanted to finish things out with the poetry reading and the poem that gave this fic its name. Review pretty plz and tell me what you thought of the ending. Honestly, I’d really like to know what you guys think! Thanks a million to everyone who reviewed before, that’s what kept me going! Next up is probably another high school fic, a little less angsty…although not much. Thanks again! :) ~~Panta_Rei