Chapter 26:

When Buffy woke up, sunlight was streaming through the windows.

Since that wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence, she just smiled and rolled over…

Right into Spike’s arms.

Her eyes flew open, finally registering that she wasn’t in Spike’s room, and that the soft warm object at her back was too big and human to be Mr. Gordo.

Well, okay. Mostly soft. Because part of him was admittedly kinda hard.

She smiled in what she was pretty sure was a super-gooey, entirely girlish way. Funny how she didn’t really care, not when he was clutching her to him like she was the only thing in the whole world that mattered. Not when he really was the only thing in the world that mattered to her.

He looked so peaceful, she mused as she stared at him. His face was relaxed, not defensive or snarky in the least. Not that she didn’t like snarky Spike, ‘cause that was sexy in a big way—but right now he looked just about as peaceful as he’d ever looked.

Well, except for right after they’d…Buffy’s face turned bright red, something that she immediately scoffed at. You’d think that after doing the nasty with her boyfriend, just thinking about it wouldn’t embarrass her.

“Buffy…” Spike murmured, smacking his lips. “So soft…”

Her face turned even redder.

Okay. Apparently not.

He rolled over, letting go of her. She used the opportunity to stretch and let her eyes wander around his room.

Her eyes fell on a small manila envelope from their school that was lying on his night table. She picked it up curiously and pulled out the piece of paper inside.

~*~

“I can’t believe you!”

A screeching female voice intruded on Spike’s rather pleasant dreams. He scrunched his brow in confusion. Had he gotten drunk last night? He could’ve sworn he’d gone to the Halloween dance with Buffy—

Buffy on top of him, under him, around him, her breasts heaving, her skin sweat-slicked...

Spike sat bolt upright, dread shooting through him. It was Buffy he’d finally fallen asleep with the night before, Buffy who he was waking up with. Buffy who was yelling at him.

Not exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for…with his eyes still closed, he groaned.

“Spike?” Now her sweet voice sounded more curious than irate.

He popped open an eye. “Mornin’, kitten,” he said groggily. “Judging by your hollerin’, ‘m guessing you’d like to talk?” He kept his voice neutral, trying not to betray how nervous he was.

She waved a piece of paper in front of him that he vaguely recognized as his report card. “You’re a friggin’ genius!” she explained in an accusatory voice.

He snatched the piece of paper from her. Oh, right—last year’s final report. Sodding hell. He was a prat, leavin’ it out like that. “Hey—lemme see that.” He snatched it out of her hand, easily ignoring her screeching (and trying a bit harder to ignore the bouncing of her breasts, along with what it was doing to him), and scanned it.

English, 99. AP Biology , 98. Oh, bloody hell. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he began, feeling the need to explain away his grades. Except that it is. There goes my rep…

“Um, it looks like you’re smart,” she said, still staring at him—but there was a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her cute little lips that hadn’t been there before.

“Wait—you’re not mad?” Spike said, suddenly confused. She’d sounded pretty brassed when she woke him up…

Her answer came in the form of her jumping on him and kissing him until they were both breathless. “Are you kidding?” she asked when they finally parted. “It’s totally hot.”

He smiled at her. God, she was an angel. So beautiful, so sweet, so pristine—

Well, not all that pristine. Not anymore.

He let a smirk overtake his face as memories of the night before flooded his brain. Her exquisite body…how incredibly gorgeous she’d been, even as he—

For the second time in ten minutes, Spike’s brain came to a complete and utter halt. Fucking, buggering shit!

Buffy squinted at him, her face scrunched up in confusion again. “What’s the matter? I though I told you, I’m not—“

“Condom,” Spike blurted out, barely restraining full-out panic. He loved her, yeah, but he wasn’t ready to have a kid! “We didn’t use a condom! We—three sodding times—without—“ He trailed off, sputtering incoherently. Buffy had frozen, too. Shit! She’d been a bloody virgin—what were the chances of her being on the pill? Especially given that she looked almost as scared as he did?

His girl took a deep breath. He knew her well enough to see that her mind was racing—and despite the Valley Girl attitude she sometimes still took on, when her mind raced, it raced.

So the words that popped out of her mouth shocked him. “Don’t have a fit,” she said in an almost calm voice. “I’m on the pill.”

His eyes were buggin’ out of his head. He could feel them. “You are?”

Now she rolled her eyes. “Duh. My parents think I’m this evil ho-bag, remember?” The words were harsh, but the tone she said them in was shakily playful. Spike rose to the challenge.

“That so?” He moved a bit closer, trailing a finger down her arm. “S’pose that makes sense.”

She made to bat his arm away. “Hey! You’re not supposed to agree, you—“

He caught her arm easily, caressing her inner wrist and smiling when she shivered. God, she was perfect.

“Did I mention,” he drawled, deliberately roughening his already lower-class accent, “That I ‘appen t’ like that li’l trait of yours?”

She grinned at him. “Really?” She sidled closer, till her breasts were brushing against his chest. Now he was the one gulping. “So if I decided to reform…” she trailed off, staring at his lips.

He focused on hers as his hands came round to cup her bottom and pull her closer. “Never,” he ordered in a rough voice.

“So…I can be a ho-bag with whoever I want?” Her voice was mischievous; she had to know the question would make him angry.

It infuriated him—not at her, but at the thought that any other ponce would dare touch what was his, and more importantly, what he loved.

He let out a small growl, grabbing her and kissing her roughly, urgently. She responded immediately; she seemed to be happy that she’d driven him to it. Spike suddenly realized that that had been her objective the whole time. Making him jealous only increased her fervor. Little minx, he thought, smiling into the kiss.

They parted a moment later. “God, I love you,” he said quietly, staring into her eyes.

“Love you, too,” she said, just as softly. For a moment, the teasing light faded from both their faces, and they stared at one another somberly, both in wonder at the words falling from the others’ lips.

Then, as usual, his girl decided to lighten—or at least change—the mood. Grinning, she trailed a finger down his chest, stopping just at his waistline.

His long, throaty groan made the familiar smile curve her lips. “Wanna show me how much?” she asked, sliding her hand up and down a few times.

They were in bed for hours after that.

~*~

It was almost one in the afternoon before they finally decided to get up. Buffy was feeling more than a little apprehensive about going home and would have stayed longer, but Spike wisely pointed out that his parents would throw an absolute fit if they found their son naked in bed with a girl, “No matter how pretty the chit in question is,” he’d added with the characteristic smirk.

She sighed as she prepared to enter her house. She’d opted to walk home; she didn’t really feel like finding out what would happen if her parents saw her get out of a boy’s car when she’d been gone the entire night before. Especially since she’d only been friends—or more than friends, but whatever—with said boy for a few weeks.

Granted, she felt closer to Spike than she’d ever felt to anyone else—but she knew that she wouldn’t have an easy time explaining that to her parents. As it was, she might have trouble convincing them that she’d spent the night at Willow’s.

When she reached her house, though, she discovered that she hadn’t needed to worry. Her parents were fighting again, and not just a yelling match, either. When Buffy neared the door, she heard the distinct sound of glass shattering.

Her good mood, which had already been deflating, disappeared. Wonderful, she thought disgustedly, slipping in and starting up the stairs. Wonder how long they’ve been going at it? Poor Dawnie probably didn’t get a wink of sleep.

“But I love you, Hank!” Joyce was sobbing. “You know that! I just can’t stand by and watch as you hurt our oldest daughter!”

“Our oldest daughter is a little slut!” Hank yelled back. “And I’m starting to think you are, too! Who the hell gave you permission to file for divorce papers?”

“Permission?!” In a second, Joyce went from weepy to furious. “What is this, the middle ages? If I want to file for divorce, I damn well will!” Her voice weakened. “And I don’t want to, Hank…I love you so much…but God, I can’t just let you hurt Buffy like that…I can’t…” Once again, her voice degenerated into sobs.

Buffy listened closely for Hank’s reaction. Fights like this one always scared her—when she was little, she’d been terrified that one or both of them would lose control completely and start fighting physically. Fortunately that hadn’t happened yet, but Buffy could tell that this fight had been going on for a long time, and it was worse than any of the others she’d overheard.

She didn’t hear any more yelling, though. Maybe her dad had started crying, too. Serves the bastard right, she thought savagely as she slipped into her room.

She stared around at the walls with a sense of relief. They’d been her haven for three years; now was no different.

She lay down on her bed, all euphoric Spike thoughts forgotten. I love you. That was what she’d told Spike many times last night…what he’d told her…and she’d thought they were the best words in the world. But how could they be when her mother said them to her father even as she insisted on a divorce?

If she didn’t love him, she wouldn’t be so sad. Well, duh. She wasn’t exactly a stranger to the whole Love Is Pain concept. But she was with Anya when it came to bemoaning tragic love: “Oh, cry me a river. It’s the orgasms that matter, anyway.”

Okay, so she didn’t completely agree with Anya. But the “cry me a river” part she totally agreed with. She just didn’t do the angst thing.

So…why was she suddenly feeling incredibly unsure about Spike? She should have been really happy that they’d exchanged vows of love and everything, but instead her mother’s sobbing kept intruding.

She loves him, and now she’s paying.

The image of Spike’s expression when he’d remembered protection—or lack thereof—floated into her head. He’d definitely enjoyed the sex part, but having a baby seemed to freak him out beyond measure. Which made sense, since it freaked her out, too, but…

They should’ve thought about it. If they were both so damn ready, then they should’ve remembered protection. Her being on the pill was just a lucky thing. Even if she hadn’t been, Buffy was pretty sure she wouldn’t have remembered it until the deed had been done.

And that really bugged her. She wasn’t sure why, but it bugged her.

I love you, Hank. Was that what her love for Spike would lead to? Sobbing over him because even though he was a complete jerk, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him?

No. Spike would never do that. He’d never hurt me like that…

would he?

What if they really hadn’t been protected? Would Spike accept the baby, or would he reject it? She wanted to think he’d help her raise it—but the panic she remembered suggested otherwise.

What if our love destroys us like it did Mom?

She’d thought she was willing to take the risk. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of most of this stuff before. But now, face-to-face with the not so great results of love, she wasn’t sure. Was Spike worth the pain she saw her mother going through?

Suddenly, the muffled crying she’d heard became screams again. Another dish shattered—probably her mother, throwing a glass. She did that a lot when she was upset.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking through and running down to stain the side of her face. She could remember the adoration in Spike’s eyes…but she could also remember devastation in her mother’s.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, William—but I can’t. Tears streaming down her face, she grabbed her phone and dialed the now-familiar number.

“Spike? Yeah…I’m fine…uh-huh…no, not now. I need to—I need to talk to you. Can you meet me at the cemetery in twenty minutes? Oh, right…the one the Mayor dedicated last year. With all the Sunnydale High alumni in it? Yeah, near the school…okay. See you.”

“Buffy?”

His tone stopped her from hanging up. She clutched it tighter, knowing what was coming. “Yeah?”

“I love you, kitten.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as more tears entered her eyes. She fought a sob—there would be plenty of time for crying later. “I love you too.” She set the phone down before he could say anything else. Before she could break down or start begging for his forgiveness.

As soon as the phone touched its cradle, she did both. Her hands came up to cover her face as sobs wracked her body. Please forgive me, Spike. I have to. I’m not strong enough. Please forgive me.

But she knew that when the time came, he wouldn’t. And that was fair, because she also knew that she wouldn’t forgive herself.

~*~

 

Chapter 27:

Only a complete prat wouldn’t have noticed that there was something wrong with his girl when she practically burst into tears over the phone.

Since Spike wasn’t a complete prat, he knew damn good and well that whatever Buffy had to tell him, it couldn’t be good. He hadn’t pressed for details over the phone, though. Whatever she had to say, he wanted her to say it to his face.

Still, his knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he drove toward the cemetery. He was pretty damn sure it wasn’t normal for a girl to be crying the night after making love for the first time with her boyfriend. Or, if it was, then it sure as hell shouldn’t be.

When he arrived at the cemetery, she was already waiting, sitting on one of the headstones near the entrance. He jumped out of his car and ran towards her.

When she lifted her head to reveal tear-stained cheeks, his pace redoubled. Shit. “What’s wrong, pet?” he asked, slowing as he came near. He reached out and touched her cheeks. “Looks like you’ve been cryin’ something fierce.”

Buffy closed her eyes and leaned—but instead of going forward, toward his touch, she leaned away. Somehow that upset him more than the tears had. “Buffy…luv…what’s wrong?” Oh, sodding hell. He hadn’t sounded this pathetic since he was rejected by Cecily, back when he was stilling going round calling himself William. But she’s not gonna reject me. My girl wouldn’t do that.

“Yeah, I have,” she answered him in a small voice. “Spike…what happened last night. It was wrong.”

“Wrong? What the hell d’you mean, wrong?” Spike demanded. He saw her flinch, probably since he was yelling—but dammit! She couldn’t call what had happened the night before wrong! “Buffy, that was the best night of my life!”

“And it was mine, too, but—“

“But what? Why are we even having this conversation?” Spike plowed a hand through his hair. He had to stop yelling or all of Sunnydale would come out to witness this sorry soap opera. He forced his voice to soften. “Sorry, luv. ‘s just…I love you.”

He had no idea why, but it was clearly the wrong thing to say. Buffy’s eyes again filled with tears. “Summers? What—“

“That’s the problem!” Buffy burst out. “I love you, and you love me, but we didn’t use a condom, and—“

“Condom?” Now Spike was thoroughly confused. “What does a condom have to do with this?” Desperate, feeling like he was drowning, he tried to reach out to her. She again flinched away. “Summers—“

“No.” A single word, but spoken so resolutely, with such sadness written on her face, that Spike felt his heart break.

God, no. Not again. Please. I love her. She has to know that. Why is she hurting me? Herself? He felt his eyes fill with tears. Any other time he would have been embarrassed, but now he was just devastated. He could practically see all the foolish, poncy dreams he’d had about their future falling to pieces.

She must have seen the heartbreak on his face, because she whispered, “I’m sorry, Spike,” before turning around and walking away.

He’d never be sure why he let her go. Probably because his eyes were too blurred by tears to even see her walking away from him. He was in a stupor, blinded by the images of his love and the knowledge that she’d never be his again.

“Buffy.” Two syllables. Once they’d represented everything he’d ever wanted from the world. Now they were the reason he wanted nothing more than to leave.

Silence fell over the cemetery, broken only by heart-wrenching sobs and a name, repeated over and over like a litany: “Buffy….Buffy…Buffy…”

But no one else was there.

~*~

Was this what a broken heart felt like?

Buffy wasn’t sure. All she knew was that the weekend after the Halloween dance was utter hell. She spent most of it lying on her bed, staring at the wall, refusing to answer her phone for fear that Spike would be on the other end. She couldn’t face him right now. She couldn’t face anyone right now.

Dawn had asked a few tentative questions and gotten short, abrupt answers that probably told the younger girl exactly what was wrong. Dawn was smart that way.

The only good thing about that weekend was her parents. They’d been fighting without pause pretty much the whole time. It made everyone in the house miserable, but at least Buffy was constantly reminded of why she’d broken up with Spike.

Now it was late Sunday afternoon. She’d been without Spike for a day and a half. It had been hell, but at least school would be starting again soon. School, as long as she could avoid Spike, was a welcome distraction. Luckily for her, she’d already finished the parts of the project she’d have to be around Spike for.

Spike. Despite the fact that she’d ended things with him—or maybe because of it—she thought of him every second of the day, and each time she thought of him, it sent pain coursing through her.

“Fucking hell, B. I knew you were a bitch, but this really takes the cake.”

Buffy shot bolt upright. As soon as she saw the girl standing in her doorway, she groaned. “Faith, what the hell are you doing here?”

Faith grinned, walking in and plopping herself down next to Buffy on the bed. “Figured I’d pay you a visit,” she said cheerfully. “And, no offense, but you look like shit. Ever heard of a shower?”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at her not-so-welcome guest. “Ever heard of manners?”

Faith raised her hands. “And she comes out swingin’!” she exclaimed, grinning. “Look, B—this sure as hell wasn’t my idea. Just be glad they didn’t send Anya down here to talk some sense into you.”

“What? This is a fucking intervention?” Just what she needed—not!

“Hey, if you two weren’t being so damn stupid—“

“We’re not being stupid!” Buffy burst out. “We just decided to break up!”

“Oh, please. Like we’re supposed to believe that.”

Buffy froze. She was used to her conscience talking like Cordelia, but this voice sounded just a little more real.

Her worst fears were realized when the teen queen herself marched in and sat down primly on Buffy’s desk chair.

Buffy turned disbelieving eyes to Faith. “You guys got Cordy to come? I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

“Okay, since when did you drop the f-word all over the place? You have so been hanging out with the Super-Slut too long.”

Faith narrowed her eyes at Cordy. “You wanna fight, girlfriend?”

Cordy narrowed her eyes right back. “Just the fact that you called me girlfriend is enough to make me want to rip your skanky head off.”

“Whatever.” Faith abruptly abandoned the potential girl fight. “We’re here to help, B. Which means that if we have to beat the shit out of you till you see sense, we will,” she added with a grin.

“Faith, I have seen sense!” Buffy exclaimed. “That’s why I broke up with Spike. We’re completely un-meshable! We’d make each other’s lives miserable!”

“Oh, right,” Cordelia said sarcastically. “That’s why you boinked him! Because you guys are so incredibly wrong for each other!”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at her former best friend. “So not your business,” she countered, unconsciously mimicking Cordy’s airhead way of speaking.

“Okay, valley girls, welcome back to reality,” Faith said impatiently. “I’m gonna ask you straight up: what the fuck happened with you and Spike?”

“Oh, I can answer that one!”

Buffy just arched an eyebrow incredulously at Cordelia. “You can?”

Cordy rolled her eyes. “Duh! Buffy’s got, like, a total complex about relationships because her parents are the worst couple ever, so she’s all terrified of relationships, and now that she and Spike are all ishy together, she’s running away like a scared little puppy. It’s totally obvious.”

Buffy and Faith just stared at her.

Cordelia was unfazed. “What? I watch a lot of Dr. Phil.”

“Is that really all, B?” Faith’s lip curled. “You parents are fucked up, so you think you and Spike are gonna bomb, too?”

“Speaking of bombs,” Cordelia interrupted, “could you please stop saying the f-word all the time?”

“Shut the fuck up, Cordy.”

“Guys!” Buffy interrupted hurriedly, before they started a catfight in the middle of her room. “Look, it’s not like I don’t appreciate the—um—help, but me and Spike are over, okay? As in, finished. Kaput. No more Buffy and Spike. Get it?”

Faith rolled her eyes. “I tried to tell ‘em she’d be bolshie,” she asided to Cordelia.

“Totally,” the other brunette agreed. “She’s way stubborn. She’s probably just as sad as Spike.”

“Spike?’ Buffy said quickly, hating herself for it but unable to let that pass. “He’s sad?”

“Hell yeah,” Faith said.

“He’s been like a puppy dog all weekend,” Cordelia chimed in. “I’ve seen him, because since me and Lorne are like best buds now, I hang out with his friends a lot. Well, that and because Harmony stepped on my dress and said something about Xander and I bitch-slapped her, so she kind of hates me now,” she added as an afterthought.

Buffy stared at her incredulously. Wow. Cordy was hanging out with the freaks and she didn’t need a date? That thought was almost funny enough to lift her current cloud of misery.

Almost.

“So, you’re really gonna be stupid about this?” Faith asked abruptly, staring at Buffy.

“Um. Yeah.” Buffy looked down, suddenly feeling ashamed—though she wasn’t really sure why. I had every right to break up with him!

Faith rolled her eyes. “Your fucking funeral, I guess.”

“You’re a total moron for letting a piece of salty goodness like that go—you know that, right?” Cordy said.

Buffy closed her eyes. “I know.” Her voice quavered.

“Okay, just checking…” Cordy trailed off, and an awkward silence took over the room.

“So—um—Tara’s grandmother—how is she?” Buffy asked. She honestly wanted to know, because she liked Tara, but it was also a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Dying,” was Faith’s blunt answer. “She’s got a few more days, a week tops. Tara’s been shitty all weekend.”

“And I’ve just been lying here.” Buffy winced. Some friend she was.

The infamous shrug. “Doesn’t matter. She’s been doin’ the hermit thing, too, all locked up and refusing to talk to anyone.”

“Poor Tara.” Buffy felt a wave of sympathy for the other girl. She herself had only lost a boyfriend; Tara was facing the permanent loss of a relative. “Is she…I mean, is her grandmother going to…?”

“Odds are she kicks the bucket sometime this school week.” Faith’s words were callous, but their unsteadiness betrayed just how much the entire chain of events unsettled her. “Guess we’ll probably be goin’ to the funeral next weekend.”

“They really don’t expect her to hang on much longer?”

Faith shook her head. “The old woman’s brain is disintegrating, and she told everyone nix on the life support. She’s gonna die.” It was a stark, grief-filled statement; it suited the weekend perfectly, to Buffy’s way of thinking.

“If you see her before I do, tell her I’m sorry, okay?”

“Sure thing, B.” Faith stood up as thought to leave.

“Faith? Are we okay?” Buffy wasn’t exactly best friends with the girl, but Faith was a friend, one who she didn’t want to lose because of the thing with Spike.

“Five by five, B. Five by five.” And then, before Buffy could say anything else, Faith was gone.

Cordelia hesitated. “This doesn’t mean we’re friends again, you know. I’m only hanging out with your geeky new friends because Lorne’s the coolest gay guy I’ve ever met, and because I don’t have any other friends. But I still, like, totally hate you.”

Somehow, Buffy summoned the energy to smile. “Okay, Cordelia. See you tomorrow at school.”

“What-ever.” A typical Cordy rebuff; Buffy wasn’t in the least bit surprised.

What did surprise her was when, right before she reached the door, Cordelia paused and said, “But think about the Spike thing. Because I totally hate him, too, so you guys are, like, the perfect couple.”

“Right. I’ll do that.”

“Okay. Good. Bye.” Cordelia left hurriedly.

Buffy sighed and returned to staring at the ceiling. Neither Faith nor Cordelia really understood. She and Spike were doomed to never work out. That was just the way things were.

No matter how much Buffy wished it could be different.

~*~

“Um…Spike?”

“Couldn’t just leave a fellow alone to die, could you?”

“You’re gonna die?!” Panic registered in Red’s voice. “But…graduation! A-and, you, know, life!”

Spike sighed. “Willow—what the bloody hell are you doin’ here?”

“I, um—“ He sensed her hesitate but didn’t bother to look up. Pity she’d come in just then; he’d been gearin’ up to grab another JD.

“Okay, listen up, mister.” Red’s voice was suddenly stern, and ‘f he’d bothered to look at her, Spike knew he’d probably see her resolve face.

What he knew was that this time, there was no way in hell it was going to work.

“I’m here on a very important mission,” she continued.

He cocked a sardonic eyebrow. “Stop me from using m’ laser beam to destroy all ‘f metropolis?” he asked in a monotone, keeping his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“Um…no,” Willow stuttered. “Actually, Anya insisted that we try doing an intervention for you and Buffy, because you know you guys really shouldn’t have broken up, because you were perfect together, and now you’re—not together, and you’re both miserable, so why don’t you fix that problem and get un-broken-up?”

Spike let out another huge sigh. “B’cause she doesn’t sodding well want me, a’right? The bint made her choice, an’ it wasn’t—me.” His chest heaved up and down as he fought to keep a sob in. There was no way in hell he was gonna start crying again. Not until they left, anyways.

“Maybe there was another reason for her—you know—rejection?” Willow suggested in a small voice.

“Which was what, Red? Someone broke into her room an’ held a gun to her head, thereby forcing her to break up with me?” Spike voice was sarcastic. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Me be stupid? Excuse me? I’m not the one lying on the bed in misery because I’m too chicken to do anything except wallow!”

Normally that would’ve stung, especially coming from Willow, of all people, but right then, Spike couldn’t even muster up enough emotion to care what she’d said, much less get pissed off about it. “Look, Red. You did you part, came here and tried to talk me out ‘f my misery. Now be a good girl an’ go tell Anya I said to shove off, yeah?”

Despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at her, he could almost see her pursing her lips. “Fine,” she said, clearly peeved. “But when you’re miserable for the rest of your days because you’re too damn stubborn to make up with Buffy, don’t come crying to me.”

When he didn’t answer, just kept staring stubbornly at the wall, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

He sighed. Great show, Spike. Your girlfriend and your best friend both hate you. What’s next, the sodding apocalypse?

“’m not gonna come crying to ‘er, anyway,” Spike muttered, rolled over and grabbing the now-familiar bottle. “Don’t need her, do we, mate?” He drank as much whiskey as he could guzzle, took a break, and drank some more. “Nope. Jusht fine—on—m’ own. Donneed her, no shir. Nahme…”

Oblivion blanketed him for the rest of the day.

~*~

 

Chapter 28:

The next day, Buffy wasn’t sure who looked worse—her, Spike, or Tara.

Which, when you thought about it, was really sort of pathetic. Tara was on the verge of losing her grandmother. Buffy and Spike had just lost a relationship that, when you looked at it logically, hadn’t even been going on for very long.

Love sucks.

Buffy sighed.

“A-are you okay?” Willow asked her, concerned.

Buffy stopped tapping the work Giles had handed out to give her friend a sardonic look.

“Okay, stupid question,” Willow admitted. “It’s just…I’ve never seen you this sad before. I mean, I know I’ve only known you for a little while, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this sad before, and it’s really—well, sad. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

Buffy tried to smile; it didn’t work. “He’s only a few feet away,” Buffy said in a low voice, fighting to explain. She was sitting in the front with Willow, and Spike was in the back. “It’s only a few feet, but I feel like…he’s just so far away.” She hung her head.

Willow squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s so tough for you.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” She fought to keep tears from dripping out of her eyes. Way to make with the whiny drama queen in the middle of class, B.

She frowned. Okay. When did my conscience start sounding like Faith?

Faith as a moral guide…she barely restrained her shudder. She so needed more sleep.

“Okay, class, put away your books and pass your answer sheet down to the end of the row,” Giles ordered.

Buffy gave her sheet a panicked look: it was almost completely blank. Crap! This was not going to help her pull up the big fat F that had been on her progress report!

Her hand shot up in the air almost before she could stop it. Giles smiled pleasantly. “Yes, Buffy?”

“I—erm—“ God, how was it that she could still practically feel Spike’s eyes on her? It was completely unfair—they were broken up! But she would’ve bet her life that while she stuttered in front of Giles, Spike was watching her every move.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” she blurted out, gritting her teeth as a blush rose to her face. Stupid Spike. There is absolutely nothing wrong with asking to go to the bathroom and he’s making me blush…

Giles smiled at her, a smile so knowing that she couldn’t help but wonder how much he knew about her not-so-wonderful nonrelationship with Spike. Crap. Was she really being that obvious?

“Of course you may, Buffy,” he said kindly.

She bolted out of the room, tossing a hurried “Thank you!” over her shoulder. God, she was glad to be able to get out of there—one more second in the same room as Spike and she was gonna end up—

“Hey, Goldilocks. Ever heard of a hall pass?”

Buffy whirled around, an angry retort on her tongue: “Hey, Spike, ever heard of leaving me the fuck alone?”

She’d wanted to hurt him. That was the whole point of the meanness—if she hurt him badly enough, maybe he’d leave her alone.

Or maybe not. He smirked. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Summers. Brit-boy sent me out here to give you this.” He handed her a hall pass, careful to avoid touching her hand.

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. “Bet you’d love to see that.”

“What, your knickers?” If anything, the smirk got—well, smirkier. “Been there, done that, luv. But ‘f you wanna have another go…” He trailed off, leering at her suggestively.

She recoiled, half in disgust, half in hurt, and felt tears fill her eyes. Well, what did you expect? she scolded herself. You guys are broken up—he has every right to hate you!

But that didn’t change the fact that she wished he would just take her in his arms and hold her until she stopped crying, or the fact that she knew, damn good and well, that she was a pathetic, stupid idiot for even wishing he would. She’d broken up with him, for Pete’s sake!

You know, I don’t really know a guy named Pete…

Even that completely random thought couldn’t cheer her up. She slumped against the lockers, closing her eyes to shut out the sight of Spike standing there, staring at her in a manner that fully contradicted his flip, arrogant talk.

“Summers? I just insulted you, y’know.”

“Would you please just leave me alone?” No anger this time. Not even a fighting spirit. She just felt…empty.

And it scared her.

“Buffy…” Spike took a step forward.

“Just—no.” She turned around and began to walk away, determined to put a distance between herself and the one person in the world who had the power to hurt her beyond repair.

“You can’t just walk away!”

She almost stopped at that. His voice sounded ragged, desperate—broken, almost.

No. Remember Mom and Dad. Be strong. She stiffened her shoulders. “That’s what I’m doing,” she said, forcing her voice to be callous.

Silence for a long enough time that it started to feel sinister. Then: “So ‘s like that, is it? You’re just gonna ignore me?”

“Pretty much.”

“Right, then.”

She didn’t have time to register that he’d moved before he was right in front of her, gripping her arms and staring into her eyes with a look on his face that went beyond angry.

He was furious. Insanely so.

“Spike…” she whispered, twisting her arms. “Let me go!” Louder this time, but not loud enough to make any teacher come out of their classroom.

“No. That’s what you don’t get, Blondie. ‘m not lettin’ you go.”

“I’ll scream.”

He released her abruptly, but his intense gaze kept her rooted to the spot. “You ran away two nights ago,” he reminded her in a low voice. “An’ you’re runnin’ away again. But watch your step, Blondie. From now on, you get yourself alone for even a second, and ‘ll be there. An’ when that happens, there won’t be any power on this earth strong enough to make me let go again.”

She stood rooted to the spot long after he’d left her, stomping off in a way that made her doubt his words not the tiniest bit.

~*~

Spike didn’t, of course, go back to class.

He wasn’t worried about getting’ caught skipping. He knew damn good and well that it wasn’t coincidence that had Rupes choosing him out of all the other people in the room to go give Buffy that hall pass.

Buffy. Shit, just saying her name made him hurt. He took a deep drag on his fag, letting the smoke drift out of his nostrils lazily.

He hadn’t been joking when he’d made his threatening little speech. If he had to, he’d chain her up. Sooner or later, the bint was gonna listen to him.

“Shoulda known you’d be out here. You’re a dick, did anyone ever tell you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Faith, ‘m really not in the mood.”

“Tough luck. None of the rest of us were in the mood to deal with the shit you and B are makin’ us put up with.” Faith came to stand in front of him, her famed “Bring it on, bitch” stance in full evidence.

“Look, ‘f you’re gonna try to do that intervention crap again—“

“No, I’m not,” she cut in. “Actually, I came up here to tell you that I got detention again for kicking Veruca’s skanky ho-bag ass.”

He arched a sardonic brow. “Congratulations. Where should I send the flowers?”

“Very funny, you British asshole. I was in the office waiting for Snyder to bust my ass, and I went by the guidance office.”

“And?”

“Tara’s grandma.” Faith’s voice was flat. “She’s dead.”

~*~

For once, she wished she was a weird Goth freak. Then maybe Tara’s funeral would be easier to dress for.

She settled on a simple black dress. It had a deep v-neck and a raggedly cut hem, which made it look a little less formal than was probably right for a funeral, but it was the only black thing she owned that was even remotely appropriate.

Buffy wiped a tear from her eyes. She had no idea why Tara’s grandmother’s death was affecting her so strongly—she knew it shouldn’t. She hadn’t even met the woman. But somehow…

Well, it was death, and she was super-depressed, anyway. It was really no wonder that she was crying. It had become her extracurricular of choice since she’d broken up with Spike nearly a week ago.

They hadn’t spoken since his outburst in the hallway. She’d stuck to Willow like glue, and though Buffy suspected the redhead knew why, she luckily didn’t say anything.

All of her other friends acted like they were walking on eggshells around her. She couldn’t really blame them; she was a shadow of who she’d been before the breakup. Even having her father verbally attack her wasn’t as bad as this.

And when she was around Spike, it was even worse. Forget eggshells; everyone acted like they were dancing on friggin’ needles.

It was, in a word, miserable.

The funeral just made things even more miserable. She felt awful about the lack of attention she’d been giving Tara’s troubles. Willow and the others had been visiting her house for hours at a time ever since the news had reached them, but somehow, Buffy couldn’t bring herself to go. She wouldn’t have been able to bear being in a presence that was even more grief-filled than her own was.

She sighed and slipped on the dress, pulling her hair into a bun, bothering with only a minimal amount of makeup. It wasn’t exactly a party, and anyway, she didn’t really care about how she looked anymore.

She didn’t really care about anything anymore…

No. Not gonna go there. She forced the depressed thought from her head and strapped on black sandals. Okay, she thought, picking up her purse. Here we go.

Buffy left her room and crept downstairs. Her parents were, as usual, arguing. She’d told her mother about the funeral, but she was betting that her mother hadn’t bothered telling her father. It would be good if she could just leave without talking to the bastard.

“Hold it, young lady.”

She froze, wincing inwardly. So much for luck…

“Where the hell are you going looking like that?”

“To a friend’s grandmother’s funeral.” Her voice was quiet; she lacked even the energy to fight with her dad, something that she would’ve gladly done just a few weeks ago.

“In that?” Hank’s voice was scornful. “Looks more like you’re out to fuck half the male population of Sunnydale.”

No one saw it coming, least of all Buffy. Her eyes had widened in hurt, he’d smiled cruelly, Dawn had gasped from her place on the stairs—

And Joyce had strode up to him and slapped him. Hard.

“If you don’t shut the hell up and leave my daughter alone, I swear to God I won’t wait for the divorce to come through. I’ll kill your sorry ass and leave it in an alley somewhere to rot.”

Buffy’s mouth fell open. Never in her life had she heard her mother sound so cold, so angry, so—

Protective.

Joyce turned around, a gentle, motherly smile on her face. “Buffy, honey, why don’t you just go on. You don’t need a ride, do you?”

Buffy forced her mouth to close. “Nu-uh. It’s—it’s just a little ways away.”

“Are you sure you don’t want someone to come with you?” Joyce’s kind tone wasn’t artifice; she and Buffy had grown closer over the past few weeks, and she knew what had happened between Buffy and Spike, and how much the funeral was affecting her daughter.

“Um, no. I’ll be fine. I’m meeting everybody there.”

Joyce nodded. “Okay, sweetie. See you later.” Buffy’s left as Joyce turned back to her husband with a malevolent look on her face.

The shouting restarted before she’d even gotten as far as the sidewalk. Poor Dawn, Buffy thought sympathetically before she started for the cemetery.

Willow, Spike, Faith, Oz, and Lorne were already waiting at the gate. Willow rushed forward and hugged Buffy, tears streaming down her face. Buffy comforted her friend as best as she could. “How are you holding up?” she asked the redhead quietly. Willow had known Tara’s grandmother fairly well; Buffy knew the death was hurting her badly.

Willow shrugged. “There’s a silver lining to every cloud, right? At least—at least it can’t hurt worse.”

“God, Willow.” Buffy hugged her friend again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as they pulled apart.

“It’s not your fault,” Willow said with a faint approximation of a smile.

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” Oz pointed out. “Just the way it is.” He gave a minute nod. “Hi, Buffy.”

“Hi.” Buffy glanced briefly at Spike, who fortunately was studying the ground like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. He was wearing a suit with a black silk shirt, and even in their surroundings, some part of Buffy acknowledge how, as always, just glancing at him made her body long to be closer.

“So…we’re waiting for Xander and Anya”

“Yep.” Faith nodded. “Been waiting awhile. Bet Xander couldn’t find anything black to wear.”

Buffy cracked a tiny smile. “Too bad neon colors are inappropriate.”

Everyone cracked a minute smile at her joke, smiles that faded rapidly. There was nothing in the world that could cheer them up for long, not right now.

And what they were feeling combined was only a fraction of what Tara felt. Poor, poor Tara. God, let her pull through, Buffy prayed silently.

A few minutes later, a small, beat-up car pulled up and parked. Anya and Xander got out and walked over toward the others, their faces solemn.

“Hey, guys,” Buffy said quietly, avoiding their gaze. It was really hard to be around your friends when most of them thought you were the biggest idiot ever.

“Hey, Buff,” Xander said. His nod lacked the warmth it had before she’d dumped Spike. Anya didn’t bother answering.

Buffy closed her eyes briefly. She deserved his coldness—hell, she deserved everybody’s. With every day that passed, the wondered more and more if ending things with Spike hadn’t been the meanest, stupidest mistake she’d ever made. When she’d been with him, it had been the happiest time of her life. Now that she’d pushed him away, she was miserable.

An image intruded: her mother, sobbing as her husband stared at her in cold silence, while liquid dripped onto broken glass in a corner.

No. I can’t risk that. I just…can’t. For what felt like the millionth time, she mentally hardened her resolve.

The hordes of black-clad people milling about suddenly began filing into the cemetery.

Faith took a deep breath. “We ready for this?”

“I’m thinking we have to be,” Oz replied. As one, the group entered the cemetery.

Buffy sat down in between Willow and Anya, squeezing her hands together in her lap tightly. She was near the end of the row of chairs; Spike sat almost directly in front of her.

It was cloudy overhead, but one of those days when the chance of rain coming is next to nothing. There was false grass laid down in the aisle and around the flower-covered coffin—God, she hated that stuff.

The solemn preacher took the pulpit and began speaking. Buffy caught the occasional word: “Special …distinguished…loved…missed…” but she couldn’t bring herself to pay as strict attention as she knew she should be.

Selfish though it might be, her thoughts just couldn’t leave Spike. Here in this place of death she was asking herself again and again why she’d broken things off with him. Part of her kept bringing her mother to mind, reminding her of the paralyzing fear that had led to her pushing Spike away—but the other part was arguing fiercely.

There’s no one who can say we’d end up like them. Tara’s grandma lived fifty years with the man she loved! My parents aren’t the only option for marriage!

She knew that. In a way, she’d always known that. But her parent’s marriage was the one she’d seen up close since she was born, and some part of her, deep down in the dark, dusty corners of her soul, was petrified that she was doomed to the same fate.

But…it was Spike! She loved him, and she knew he’d never, never hurt her!

So…why had she ended their relationship?

She was a coward. A nasty, pathetic little coward. People died every day, most not as hold as Tara’s grandmother had been—and she might die alone because she was such a coward.

And the sad part was that she knew she’d never have enough courage to be with someone like him.

~*~

The funeral was over relatively soon, much to Buffy’s relief. Being around Spike, even if she was several feet away and he wasn’t even facing her, was excruciating. The grief that she could feel emanating from everyone around her just made it worse.

Everyone milled about afterwards, giving the family their condolences and comforting each other. Buffy embraced a distraught Tara, whispering words of comfort. The gang stayed with her for awhile until she had to greet other attendants.

Buffy glanced around the circle her friends had made uncertainly. “I guess…I guess we should leave?”

Anya, her face tear-streaked nodded. “Yes, let’s. This display of grief is simultaneously heartbreaking and terrifying.”

It was strange—they were such a close-knit group, they almost always hung out together as long as possible. This time, though, it was like they couldn’t stand to be around each other. Buffy blinked and everyone was gone. Willow was heading off with Oz, Anya with Xander, and Faith with Spike.

When Buffy saw Spike leaving, something inside just snapped. She hurried over to them. “Spike!”

They both whirled around. Before Buffy even had a chance to ask to speak to him alone, Faith grinned and left them.

“Yeah?” Spike asked, his brow arched.

She swallowed hard, thanking God that the middle of a funeral didn’t count as alone. “I just want to say…I know you knew Tara’s grandma pretty well.”

“And?”

Buffy briefly closed her eyes. She summoned what tiny amount of courage she still had and, looking directly into his eyes, said, “I’m sorry.”

His own eyes narrowed. For a moment, Buffy was trapped in two deep pools of blue. Then he nodded curtly. “Thanks,” he said softly—and she knew that just as her own words had applied to more than the death of Tara’s grandmother, so did his.

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t even a beginning, given that she herself had precipitated the end of their relationship.

But it was something, and as she fled his presence and walked home, Buffy comforted herself with that fact.

~*~
 

Chapter 30:

He really had to stop making a habit of walking around Sunnydale cemeteries at night. Right creepy, it was…though Spike supposed that this night was special, given that he’d just been to a funeral and his girl—not yours any more, mate—had actually taken a baby-step towards letting him back in.

Because she was going to let him back in. That much Spike was sure of. He was absolutely determined to make her see sense, even if it took him a million years.

Funny, it had never occurred to him that she might see sense all on her own…

Not that he blamed her. Bloody hell, if his parents’ marriage was half so bad as hers was, he’d prob’ly be running scared, too. Plus, everyone knew that even the smartest birds took great stock in their parents. Buffy wasn’t the first chit he’d met who thought that her parents were walking, talking psychic readings of what her life would be like.

But still…his fist clenched, betraying his frustration. Buggerin’ bint could’ve at least given me more than some incoherent ramblings an’ a broken heart. She hadn’t even bothered to talk to him about it, and that pissed him off.

“Stupid—bloody—bitch!” he muttered. On the last word he spun around and gave one of the larger tombstones the most violent kick he could summon. “Thinks she’s better than me, does she?” Kick. “Sodding center of the world!” Kick. “Doesn’t even bother to give a bloke an explana—“

He froze. A sound had caught his ear, so far away that he wasn’t even sure he’d really heard it. Ceasing his assault on the tombstone, he walked a bit closer towards the murmur, quickly recognizing it as a human voice.

“…guess I understand why he’s mad,” a female voice said. Spike just barely stifled an exclamation of surprise; it was Buffy. “I mean, I was freaking out in a big way when I broke up with him. But if I told him, he would so never understand. He’s all…confident and smart and stuff. I’m not.”

Spike would’ve loved to stand where he was and listen to her monologue all day long, but he knew that wasn’t fair. He began to move closer to the sound of her voice until he could see her. She was sitting on top of what he was pretty sure was a random tombstone, talking to thin air. Lucky for her I do the name thing, else ‘d think she was completely carrot-top.

“And who the heck is he, anyway, to act all wounded and sexy and stuff, when I’m hurting just as much as h—“

“Uh, Buffy?”

Buffy blinked, yelped, and almost fell off the tombstone. Spike fought not to smile as she clutched the stone and glared at him. “Geez! Eavesdrop much?”

“Only when it’s an ex-girl who dumped me for no damn good reason,” Spike said genially, sitting on a tombstone across from her. She was still wearing that hot little black number, and even though her mascara was smeared from crying, she was, as always, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “D’you do this often, pet?”

Her chin jutted out. “What if I do?”

“Then you’re more than a little buggered up,” Spike replied, still half-smiling.

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “Everybody talks to themselves sometimes.”

“Well, yeah, but not everybody does it in a soddin’ cemetery,” Spike pointed out.

Buffy raised an eyebrow, a mannerism that he knew she’d gotten from him. “Look who’s talking,” she retorted.

Spike was about to reply when he realized something—she was right. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Shut y’gob,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

She laughed delightedly, clapping her hands together like a little kid. “I win!”

“So this is what this is to you?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “A game? You think m’ playing for the thrill of it?”

“Huh?” Now she looked adorably befuddled—no, you wanker, not adorable! She’s not adorable, or cute, or the most amazing girl you’ve ever met in your life— Spike gave up. It was clearly a lost cause.

Realizing that she was staring at him, clearly expecting him to explain himself, he muttered, “Nothin’. Just…forget it.”

“Nuh-uh. No way,” Buffy said, hopping off her tombstone and walking over till she stood directly in front of him, staring stubbornly into his eyes. “I was talking about our argument. What were you talking about?”

“Last time I checked, Blondie, you weren’t m’ girl, which means you’ve got no bloody right to interrogate me like this. So shove off, yeah?” Spike yanked out a cigarette and put it in his mouth—

Only to have it yanked from his mouth by impertinent fingers and dropped on the ground, where Buffy’s foot ground it into the dirt.

“’ey!” He protested angrily. “Gimme!”

“It’s dirty now,” she pointed out primly. “And anyway, they’re bad for you.”

“Why the bloody hell d’you care?” Spike inquired, cursing even more than usual due to his anger.

Was it just him, or did her eyes just get a hell of a lot bigger? “Because I care about you,” she said quietly. “I was trying to get that through to you...earlier.”

“What, with the silence an’ the ignorin’ at the funeral?” Spike said sarcastically, even though he knew what she was talking about.

Her face hardened instantly. “You know what I’m talking about,” she all but spat.

He looked at her consideringly. You’d have thought that after his big stalker speech in the hallway would’ve scared her into avoiding alone time with him—or at least made her intimidated now that they were havin’ a one-on-one—but no, she was the same as ever, all bouncy hair and fearless glare.

An’ damned ‘f I’m not suddenly a poet again...

Which brought him back to his main quandary. Being around Buffy, being with her, hell—being in her, made him feel more wonderful than he ever had before. Wonderful enough for him to have let William out, something that hadn’t happened before since Spike had figuratively locked away the ponce and thrown away the key. He loved her. She had hair like spun gold, eyes like the first day of spring, a smile as dazzling as the stars, yadda yadda.

She didn’t want him. She’d said as much just a few days ago. Then, he’d believed her. That was his weakness, the one left over from the days when he was William—part of him had refused to believe that such a beauty could really want him, and it was that part that had taken over that day.

Well, not any more.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly. It was the only useful thing his mum had ever taught him. “Look, pet,” he began slowly. “I know what you mean. An’ I’m sorry. ‘m not trying to be a git, honestly.”

Her face softened slightly. “I know,” she grumbled. “It’s, like, your second nature, or something.”

“Jus’ like ‘s your second nature to be a silly little chit. Buffy—“ his voice became pleading, and he reached out to grab her chin—“Talk to me, baby. Why’d you end things when they were going so wonderfully?”

Her eyes teared up, and though she couldn’t move her head, she averted her gaze from his. “I’m—I’m scared,” she admitted in a tiny, shamed voice. “I know it’s stupid, and—and selfish, but I’m just so scared.” Tears ran down her cheeks, and if he hadn’t known it was already n pieces, he would’ve swore he heard his heart break.

“Shh, pet, don’t cry,” he whispered, wishing he could hug her and knowing that he could—not with their relationship being the shambles that it was.

“I can’t help it,” she gasped, giving a strange little hiccup. “I’m just—God, I’m so horrible!”

“No. No, you’re not.” His fingers ghosted over her shoulder, and when she leaned into the touch, he gently rubbed her shoulder and her arm. “You’re the most amazing person ‘ve ever met. I love you, Buffy.”

He was astonished to see her hands fist. “Don’t—say—that,” she ordered in a low voice, her teeth clenched.

His eyes narrowed. So that’s the problem, is it? “What’re you scared of?” he demanded. “Why is it that you can’t stand knowin’ I love you?”

“It’s—it’s nothing,” she said, still refusing to look at him. “I just...we’re broken up.”

Spike was nonplussed. “Your point being?”

“We’re broken up,” she repeated. “Why are you still telling me you love me?”

Bloody hell. “D’you think that matters to me?” he asked, half-angry that she’d even asked. “Buffy, ‘m gonna love you till they put me in the ground. ‘s not somethin’ I’m proud of, because God knows loving you’s one of the dumber things ‘ve done lately. But I can’t sodding well stop.” He fell quiet, breathing heavily, his emotions running high.

Buffy stared at him, unblinking, tears still running down her face. The silence stretched on, and on, till Spike started to wonder if a man could die from pure, not even sexual, tension.

“Buffy? You gonna say anything, luv?”

She smiled slightly and wiped her face. “Can’t I have my girly freak-out moment?” she asked with a mock scowl.

His heart lightened ever so slightly. “That amazing, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

He smiled for what felt like the first time in years and tweaked her nose. “Sorry, Blondie, I don’t follow orders.”

“Wouldn’t life be easier if you did, though?” Buffy said lightly, smiling back.

Spike was about to respond when he saw her shiver. He had his duster, of course, but she wore nothing but that filmy black dress. “Cold, kitten?”

“Nu-uh.” She shook her head and shivered again. “Okay—maybe a little,” she admitted, blushing.

“Here.” Spike took off his coat and wrapped her in it. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

She nodded wordlessly, wrapping the duster around herself tightly.

They walked back to her house in silence, but it was a different silence than the one that had governed them the day before. This silence wasn’t strained with words that ought to be said but weren’t; instead, it was filled with a quiet understanding.

What they’d had was broken—but not beyond repair.

When they reached Buffy’s house Spike hesitated, unsure about what she was expecting from him. “Well, we’re here.”

“Yeah.” She was staring into space, a slight frown on her face.

“Buffy?” Spike said uncertainly, not wanting to make her mad by intruding on her thoughts. “You in there?”

She shook her head slightly. “No. I mean, yes. I mean—what was the question?”

Spike stifled a laugh. “Just askin’ where that pretty head of your was, luv.”

“Oh.” A slightly awkward pause, then Buffy said, “So...I’d better go inside. Here’s your jacket.” She began to pull it from her shoulders.

Spike stopped her fingers, his eyes meeting her surprised ones. “Keep it for awhile,” he suggested. “’f you’re gonna be runnin’ off to the cemetery in the middle of the night, you need a bit of protection.”

She smiled and let go of it. “Thanks.”

”No problem.”

Another awkward silence. Spike cursed under his breath; this was happening just a bit too much. He would’ve said something, but something told him to keep his mouth shut.

A moment later it happened. Buffy let out a soft, breathy sigh that made his stomach clench. She looked him in the eye and said, “Spike?”

“Yeah?”

Buffy leaned up and kissed him.

Silky skin—lightly scented hair—and the softest pair of lips he’d ever come across. That was all his brain had to register before she moved away again, but it was enough. He’d kissed her so many times that his brain filled in all the sensations his body didn’t have time to register, and at that moment, something became painfully clear: he’d missed her so bloody much.

She smiled shyly at him, seeming nearly as flustered as he. “I—I love you, too,” she whispered back.

It wasn’t by far the first time she’d said those words, but this time it was different. This time it was a commitment, a declaration—she was telling him that there was hope.

Spike still wore an incredulous smile when the door to her house closed with her on the other side.

~*~

 

Chapter 31:

Three weeks passed by more quickly than Buffy would’ve thought possible. She wasn’t happy by a long shot—the whole gang was little saddened by the death of Tara’s grandmother—but things were getting better. It was funny how even though she and Spike’s post-breakup hostility had lasted for only three days, they were way more miserable than the next three weeks.

He hadn’t read too much into the kiss, something for which Buffy was devoutly grateful. If she’d kissed most of the guys in school the way she did Spike, they would’ve been pawing all over her. But Spike seemed to know that it was equal parts apology and mutual comfort.

And now that she thought of it, that was part of the problem. They were almost, but not quite, friends. Buffy seriously suspected that they could never be just friends. They’d shared waay too much to pretend their relationship was platonic.

So they had stilted conversations and tried to how horny they both were. At the end of each day, Buffy would clench her fists and fight to stay away from him, to keep from running to the cemetery, where she knew he’d be.

To say it wasn’t easy would have been the absolute biggest understatement of the century.

Now it was Thanksgiving. They’d been on vacation for almost a week, but since the gang met at the Bronze or the mall every day, Buffy had still gotten her (in her opinion, way unhealthy) daily dose of Spike. She sighed.

They still talked like friends, but their conversations were different. There was no banter, no word play, no innuendos—not that she missed those—no, not her! She didn’t miss them a single bit!

Well, okay. She did. But only in a life-wasn’t-normal-without-them kind of way, not a they-made-her-tingly-all-over way.

Right, Buffy. You really are the queen of self-delusion, aren’t you?

Yeah, that would be her. Little Miss Self-Delusion, in the flesh and currently procrastinating like mad so that she wouldn’t have to enter her house and begin the nightmare that was a Summers Thanksgiving.

“Buffy? Are you coming?”

“Yeah! Gimme a sec!” Buffy called back.

Over the past 3 weeks, her mom and dad had fought constantly. Joyce was expecting to get divorce papers any day now, and she kept badgering Hank about signing them. More often than not, Buffy and Dawn had gone out together to eat just to avoid the yelling—though things had been quiet for about a day now.

The fighting sucked some serious ass, but for Buffy it actually wasn’t as bad as it had been in years past, because now she knew that only one of her parents hated her guts instead of both of them.

Okay. So it could’ve been way better. But then, it could’ve been a whole lot worse, too.

“Buffy? Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh? Oh—yeah, Mom!” Buffy called back into the house hurriedly. “I’ll be right there!”

She sighed. Why can’t Thanksgiving be a friend thing? she wondered petulantly. Or better yet, an ex-couple with some serious history thing?

“Buffy?” Dawn appeared in the doorway of their house. “You do realize Mom’s going to kill you very dead if you don’t come inside and eat?”

“I know.” Buffy stood up from the front step, brushing off her jeans, and made a face at her little sister. “She’s being so neurotic about it…”

“She says she has big news,” Dawn offered as they went inside. “Although considering what’s been going on lately, I’m kind of scared to know what it is.”

“Tell me about it.” Buffy lowered her voice as they neared the kitchen. “I mean, she and Dad haven’t fought in a full twenty-four hours. What’s up with that?”

“I dunno. Maybe they decided they love each other after all,” Dawn said sarcastically.

Buffy just rolled her eyes.

“Oh, hi, kids!” Joyce said, beaming.

“Hi,” they mumbled.

“Here. Take these out to the dining room and then sit down, okay?” Joyce handed Buffy and Dawn a covered dish each. “We’re ready to eat.”

Buffy could almost feel her heart beating double time as she carried the dish out. She was sure this dinner was going to be even worse than usual.

She was right. They’d barely started eating before Joyce put down her fork and said matter-of-factly, “Kids, I have an announcement to make.”

Buffy and Dawn exchanged uh-oh looks. Here we go…

“Your father and I have reached an agreement. We sent my lawyer the signed divorce papers yesterday!”

~*~

Thinking back, Buffy knew that she’d acted pretty stupidly. She really shouldn’t have spilled her wine all over the white tablecloth and blurted out, “What the friggin’ hell?”

And when her father berated her for her language, she really, really shouldn’t have stood up and called him an arrogant asshole.

But she was pretty sure that the worst mistake of all was when she lost her temper and kneed him in the balls so hard that he’d fallen, hit his head on the table, and passed out.

Not that any of that had really gotten her in trouble. Her mother had been watching with a slight smile on her face. Buffy knew that she didn’t have to be roaming the streets of Sunnydale at 5 o’clock on Thanksgiving Day. It was getting dark and more than a little cold.

But she couldn’t bear to stay in the same house with her mother. Buffy loved Joyce, she really did, but right now was insanely angry with her, because who the hell thought that announcing a divorce at Thanksgiving dinner was a good idea?

Buffy sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. She was trying not to be self- pity gal, but she was all alone on Thanksgiving. It was like Suckfest 2005, or something. God, I wish Spike was here.

If she had a dollar for every time she thought that, Bill Gates would have competition for most annoyingly rich person in the world.

But annoying repeating aside, it sounded like a good idea. Wait—no, not good idea. Bad idea! Veryveryvery bad!

But she’d already thought of it, and part of her—namely, her body—thought it was a really good idea. So Buffy’s feet carried her to Spike’s house, and then her hand—her horrible, treasonous hand—reached up and knocked on the front door!

Unfortunately for her, there was a long enough pause between when she knocked and when the door opened for her to completely freak out over what she was doing.

When she saw who stood there, she had to fight to not pass out from terror.

Spike’s mother, Dr. Walsh, pursed her wrinkled lips at Buffy. “What are you doing here?”

“I…um…is Spike here? I mean, are you guys having dinner?”

“Our family does not believe in the absurdity that is Thanksgiving. I believe he is down at that Bronze place with his friends. Good night.”

Buffy was left blinking at the door that had just been slammed in her face.

She sighed and walked down the steps. Some Thanksgiving I’m having…

“Stalker.”

Buffy yelped and immediately clamped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. “Dawn!”

“Well, you are,” her little sister said, unperturbed. “I mean, I thought you and Spike were all—you know—not going out.”

“We are,” she stuttered. “I just—I mean—it’s complicated, okay?” Irritated, she started walking again.

“Complicated. Right.” Unfazed, Dawn trailed after her. “It’s simple. You’re completely in love with him.”

Buffy chose to be silent. How was she going to answer that, anyway? It was the truth and she knew it.

“I’m right, aren’t I? I knew I was right.” Dawn’s voice was satisfied. “Which leads to this question—you broke up with him why?”

Buffy took a deep breath. It’s illegal to kill your sister in California, isn’t it? Damn. “Dawn, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Because you’re scared,” Dawn shot back.

Buffy reached her breaking point. “Yes, I’m scared, okay?” she yelled, whirling around to face her younger sister. “Look at Mom and Dad, would you? Mom loves Dad and he’s still the biggest asshole in the world to her! If I stay with Spike, we could end up just like that! We probably will, and it’ll be my fault because I was too dumb to break up with him before it was too late!”

Dawn stood very, very still throughout her sister’s tirade. When Buffy was finished, she said very calmly, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Well, okay. Buffy knew that. But—“You’re thirteen. What the hell do you know?”

“I know that not all loves are like that, Buffy, okay? Janice’s parents have been married for twenty years and they’re still totally in love. We keep walking in on them making out, which hello, gross in a big way, but they’re clearly happy! Why are you convinced you can’t have that?”

“Because Mom doesn’t,” Buffy admitted quietly.

Maybe Thanksgiving was like Halloween and it was all magical, but no one had bothered to tell her. Or maybe she was just super-weird. Whatever it was, all of a sudden, she felt like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet.

For three weeks she’d been berated herself for being a coward, for not being strong enough to brave the heartbreak with Spike. She had refused to believe that maybe there wouldn’t be constant heartbreak to brave.

Because Mom doesn’t. How dumb was that, anyway? Was it written in stone somewhere that her mother’s life determined how hers was going to be? And even if it was—hey, Buffy was failing English. She sure as hell didn’t have to pay attention.

Dawn was still lecturing. “And you know, I think you broke up with him because you know there’s a chance of turning out like mom, not because you think you’re definitely going to. It’s a matter of making a choice—are you ready or not? Because if you’re not, I’m going to kick your butt. I so do not want to have to be the first person to get married and do the happily ever after thing just to prove it’s possible.”

Buffy stared at her sister in wonder. Faith, Cordelia, Spike, her own not-so-bright conscience—all of them had failed to make her see sense. But Dawn had, and at that moment, Buffy had never loved her more.

“Oof!” Dawn gasped as Buffy enveloped her in a hug. “What’s this for?”

“For being a great sister,” Buffy said, her voice muffled in Dawn’s shoulder. “I love you so much, did you know?”

Dawn smiled slightly. “Yeah.”

“Good.” She took a deep breath. Okay, Buffy. You can do this. “See you later.” She began to jog away as quickly as her skirt would allow.

“What are you doing?” Dawn called after her.

Buffy smiled—a true, genuine, happy smile. “Making a choice!” she yelled back, laughing.

Dawn was dancing all the way to Janice’s house.

~*~

A/N: I stole the whole “written in stone” thing from Prophecy Girl—I thought it fit well ;) And I know I said no more angst, but wasn’t Buffy kneeing Hank in the balls worth it? Don’t worry, the next chap is pretty much all fluff. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews telling me what you guys think of this fic!
 

Chapter 32:
~*~

Spike was outside the Bronze having a smoke when he saw Buffy coming towards him.

His first impulse was to run to her, kiss her then, shag her senseless—but that was always his first impulse with her, ‘specially when she wore little skirts like the one she had on just then.

His second impulse was to run in the opposite direction so she couldn’t stomp on his heart anymore with that “friends” routine they’d been going through.

Bloody confusing, that.

He chose to do neither. Instead he just arched an eyebrow at her. “Problem, Summers?”

“No,” she said with a funny expression on her face, “There’s no problem.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. Wait—that wasn’t a funny expression. She just looked happy, happier than he’d seen her look since…

Well, since they’d made love.

It was all he could do to stop his inner William from jumping for joy. She’s not happy about anything that has to do with you, ponce! “Well, then, what’s goin’ on? Thought you were doing the Thanksgiving thing.”

“I was. But…” she trailed off, smiling shyly. “Well…I kicked my dad in the balls and then I kind of ran out of the house.”

Well, well. That was a surprise. “Great job, kitten,” he said, trying to restrain the pride that washed through him. “Looks like you’ve got claws after all, eh?”

“Yeah.” She looked away from him. Spike cocked his head as he watched her; she seemed to be hesitating about something…

“Spike, I—“ She stopped again. “It’s just—auggh!” She let out a frustrated half-scream. “This is so not coming out right.”

“I rather think it’s not coming out at all,” he said, smirking.

She glared at him. “Well, if you keep chattering, it sure won’t.”

His smirk widened. He really couldn’t help it. They were back to the banter, just like old times. “You gonna try to shut me up, Blondie?”

He’d expected her to screech or at the very least give him a lecture on what a pig he was. What he didn’t expect was for her to smile slowly. “You know, that’s a really good idea.”

And then, before he had a chance to even think of a rejoinder, she went up on tiptoes and kissed him, just like she had three weeks ago. Only this time she was happy and not in the least bit grieving, and instead of her kiss being gentle and apologetic, it was hard and passionate.

Bloody hell, he thought, wrapping his arms around her waist and hauling her up closer to him. Feeling her breasts press against his chest, feeling her legs against his—Christ, he’d missed this. He’d missed it so damn much.

She was the first to break away. Gasping, she peppered little kissed all over his face. When she spoke, her voice was so sexy and throaty it made his stomach clench. “I’m so, so sorry,” she breathed, still giving him those sweet, feather-light kisses. “I was such an idiot, and I didn’t see sense for the longest time. I should never have broken up with you—I missed you so much. And I love you. I loved you even when I broke up with you, but I love you more now, and I hope you love me back, because there’s a good chance I’ll die if you don’t, because I have to be with you. I don’t have a choice. These past three weeks were horrible, being close to you and not being able to touch you—“

Knowing her, she probably would’ve gone on for quite some time after that, but Spike stopped her chattering with a kiss. A long, slow, deep, heartfelt kiss of the tonsil hockey variety.

“That answer the question, luv?” Spike asked, gasping, when they finally broke apart.

“I—forgot,” Buffy panted. “What was—the question?”

God, she was beautiful. He’d mussed her hair and her eyes were shining, and her lips—her lips were so plump and red—he dove in for another kiss.

“Question was—‘f I still love you,” he said when they again stopped to breathe, kissing down her neck. How the bleedin’ hell have I survived without this?

“Oh yeah.” She slipped a hand inside his shirt, moaning when she felt his muscles. “Do you?”

God, her hand was so small, so soft...he returned the favor, slipping a hand inside her little red tank top and caressing the bra-covered breast he found there, smiling when he heard her gasp. “Yeah, kitten. I still love you. Never stopped, to tell the truth.”

They probably would have continued to make out frantically, but at that moment a group of guys walked by, laughing. One of them shouted out, “Dude, way to score on Turkey Day!”

Spike watched Buffy’s cheeks redden. She always looked so cute when she did that. “I guess we’d better stop,” she said, sounding none too thrilled at the idea. “Having sex in an alley would be kinda ew.”

“That where you think this is going, pet?” he asked softly. Heaven knew if that’s what she wanted to do, he was up for it—but it took two to tango, after all.

She just gave him a look that said, clear as glass, duh.

“Right, then. Wanna go inside?” Spike asked, watching her face closely for her reaction. He sure as hell wasn’t rejecting her, but he wasn’t sure how she’d see it.

Apparently she didn’t think he was just being a bastard, because she smiled and said, “Sure. Is anyone else here?”

“Pretty much the whole gang,” Spike said, grinning at Buffy’s stunned look. “Well, we’re a nonconforming bunch. C’mon.” He tugged her inside. “Let’s have us a proper Thanksgiving.”

*

Buffy was happy. And not just “I got the presents I wanted for my birthday” happy. No, she was more “I’m so incredibly happy it’s almost wigging me out and I don’t think I could get any happier!!!!” happy. And damn, did it feel good.

She was stealing glances at Spike practically constantly as he led her to the table where the gang had gathered. Well, was it her fault that he looked so hot? He’d ditched his plain black t-shirt in favor of a black muscle shirt and a chain necklace, and he looked even more lickable than ever. In fact, just glancing at him made her want to—

Well, suffice it to say that turkey wasn’t the only thing she wanted to eat.

Spike hadn’t been lying when he’d said everyone was there. Faith, Willow, Anya, Xander, and Oz were all sitting casually at one of the Bronze’s larger tables. Buffy gaped at them. “Okay, what are all you guys doing here?”

“My family doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. It’s a sham,” Willow said cheerfully.

“Where the redhead goes, so do I,” Oz remarked.

“Uncle Rory turned the turkey into a bonfire,” was Xander’s contribution.

“My parents are at a stock convention, and anyway, I don’t enjoy ritual sacrifices, even if they are with pie,” Anya informed her.

“Please, B. You really think I’m all up for fun family time?” Faith snorted.

Buffy had to restrain a laugh. There she’d been, berating herself for dreading Thanksgiving—and it turned out her friends didn’t even celebrate it! “You guys are completely weird, you know that?” she said, sitting down next to Spike and leaning into his embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t going to be at your houses?”

“Because we figured you were doing Turkey Day with your family, and—hey! You and Spike are all tactile again!” Xander exclaimed.

The others gave him a look of disgust. “We all noticed that as soon as they walked in, sweetie,” Anya said, patting his hand.

Xander slumped in his chair. “Captain Obvious says he’s sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” Buffy said. She was pretty sure she was grinning from ear to ear, just like she’d been ever since she and Spike had gotten all full-body outside, but she couldn’t have cared less. Let the world see how happy she was. “I just get to announce to everybody that Spike and I are a couple again!”

“An’ we couldn’t be happier,” Spike added, nuzzling her hair.

“Ooh…” Buffy melted into him, barely noticing the looks everyone else was giving them.

“Were they this gooey the last time they were goin’ out and I just didn’t notice?” Faith asked, staring at the couple.

“No, they’re definitely more sickeningly cute now,” Anya said. “But then, they’ve given each other orgasms and gone through great self-inflicted pain since then, so I suppose it makes sense that they’d be so openly in love now.”

Buffy giggled against Spike’s lips; she felt him smile, too. “I like that word,” she informed him, kissing his nose and then his ear. “I love you,” she sang into it softly.

His answer was a slight growl as he pulled her fully into his lap and nuzzled her neck. “Love you too, kitten,” he murmured, fingers dancing along the bottom of her tank top.

“Mmm.” Buffy arched into his touch. She couldn’t believe life could get this good—here at the Bronze with her incredible boyfriend and a group of friends who—

Wait. She peeked open one eye as her ears finally registered the lack of noise at their table. Sure enough, every single person who’d been sitting with them a minute ago had bolted to the dance floor. “Spike?” When he didn’t answer, she wriggled on his lap—and then colored when she realized what that did to him.

“Spike!”

“Yeah, Golidlocks?” Spike asked, finally pulling himself away from her neck.

“Look!”

Spike’s eyes took in the empty table; he snorted. “Tossers can’t take a little display of affection.”

“Or a big one,” Buffy said mischievously, wriggling on him again.

He shot her a look that promised retribution. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?” he said.

“You’d better believe it,” she said, smiling at him, in completely gooey-girlfriend mode.

He smiled and leaned in for another kiss. When it was over he said, “You wanna dance, luv?”

Was it just her, or was he using a lot of pet names tonight? Oh, well—not like she was complaining. “Sure!” She hopped off the bench, keeping their hands linked, and led them out onto the dance floor.

~*~
 

Chapter 33:
~*~

As they reached the dance floor, the band struck up a new song. Buffy smiled and wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck.

I guess this time you're really leaving
I heard your suitcase say goodbye
And as my broken heart lies bleeding
You say true love it's suicide

You say you're cried a thousand rivers
And now you're swimming for the shore
You left me drowning in my tears
And you won't save me anymore

Now I'm praying to God you'll give me one more chance, girl

She heard Spike chuckle into her ear. “Listen, luv,” he purred. “It’s us.”

Buffy grinned. “Maybe it was us a few weeks ago, but I’m thinking we’re happy now.” She caressed the nape of his neck. “Or at least, I am.”

“Bloody hell,” was his half-groaned response. “Think ‘m about to get a happy ‘f you keep that up.”

“If I keep what up?” she asked innocently. “This?” With a twinkle in her eye that was anything but innocent, she caressed his neck again while she slid one hand down to cup his butt.

He hissed. “You’re bloody amazing, you know that?” He leaned down and kissed her, hard. “After everything—you’re still amazing.”

I'll be there for you
These five words I swear to you
When you breathe I want to be the air for you
I'll be there for you
I'd live and I'd die for you
Steal the sun from the sky for you
Words can't say what a love can do
I'll be there for you

“See, that’s way more like us,” Buffy said. “All cuddly and happy.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You’re quick to forget three soddin’ weeks ‘f torture, pet.”

She pouted at him. “I happen to like my delusions, thank you very much!”

“Me, too, ‘f they make you pout like that,” he purred, leaning down and catching her lip between his teeth. She sighed and kissed him.

When they broke apart he echoed her. “God, kitten. Wish we could stay like this forever.”

I know you know we're had some good times
Now they have their own hiding place
I can promise you tomorrow
But I can't buy back yesterday

And Baby you know my hands are dirty
But I wanted to be your valentine
I'll be the water when you get thirsty, baby
When you get drunk, I'll be the wine

“Why can’t we?” Buffy asked, whispering, almost afraid of his answer. They’d made up, or so it seemed, but that didn’t mean everything was perfect. “I mean, we can’t say on the dance floor forever, since the Bronze does close in a few hours, but I wanna go out with you, and we’re all with the mutual love, so chances are there’ll be lots of cuddly moments like this and I’m babbling aren’t I?” she finished, finally noting the amused expression on Spike’s face.

“Bit,” he answered, grinning. “But don’t worry,” he added, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he nipped at her ear. “I like it.”

She shivered. “Uh-huh. Me too.” God, this perfect. Cliché, but perfect...

I'll be there for you
These five words I swear to you
When you breathe I want to be the air for you
I'll be there for you
I'd live and I'd die for you
Steal the sun from the sky for you
Words can't say what a love can do
I'll be there for you

“Love you, pet,” he whispered as they rocked together.

She smiled tremulously. Was this affecting him half so much as it was her? “I love you, too.”

She got her answer when he reached up to brush a strand of golden hair out of her eyes: his hands were trembling.

And I wan't there when you were happy
I wasn't there when you were down
I didn't mean to miss your birthday, baby
I wish I'd seen you blow those candles out

Buffy placed her hand over his, gently. “I’m scared, too,” she whispered, leaning into his touch. “Actually, I’m terrified.”

“Nice to know ‘m not the only one. Feel like a wanker, though,” he admitted with a slight grin.

“Then we’re both wankers,” Buffy replied playfully. A moment later she frowned. “Wait—what’s a wanker?”

Spike’s answer was a chuckle. “A jerk or an idiot,” he defined, leaving out the part about what “wank” meant. “But—there’s so much—“ He broke off, looking frustrated. “Bugger. There’s been so much ‘ve been stupid ‘bout, so much ‘ve gotten wrong...”

Buffy knew what he meant. Their relationship wasn’t exactly conventional. Just a few months ago, they’d been complete enemies. They’d—no, she—had screwed up big time and had only fixed it tonight. And yet...

All the times he’d made her laugh, the times he’d helped her deal with her parents—even before they’d made with the face suckage, he’d always been there. She couldn’t lean on him, but her all-consuming “hate” for him was a crutch all the same.

She wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“You know?” she said, smiling wider than she’d ever have thought possible, “I completely agree.” She stopped their revolving motion and went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “But I think we got a few things right, too.”

If his attack on her lips was any indication, she thought so, too.

I'll be there for you
These five words I swear to you
When you breathe I want to be the air for you
I'll be there for you
I'd live and I'd die for you
Steal the sun from the sky for you
Words can't say what a love can do
I'll be there for you...

*

“Oh God—“ Buffy gulped, a sound that was music to Spike’s ears. “Spike, what are you doing?”

He paused in his ministrations to send her a wicked grin. “Giving thanks,” he replied before returning to the job he’d started. She looked so good—and tasted even better—that he was already close to popping.

“Oh—yes—wait—no! Here?” Buffy finished, panting.

“You got somethin’ against your room, pet?” he asked, grinning against her. He’d been looking forward to giving her room a proper christening for some time now.

“Um—no—but—ohGodohGod—my parents—“

“Are gone and will be for some time,” Spike finished for her, refraining from saying just what he thought of them, leaving their two kids alone on Thanksgiving. Well, alone in theory, at least.

“Joyce is stayin’ over at your Aunts’, an’ Hank skipped town. Dawn looked like she’d be glad to stay over at that Janice chit’s place. We’ve got the house all—to—ourselves.” He punctuated each word with a gentle kiss to her labia.

“But it’s Thanksgiving!” It was a last-ditch attempt at good-girl-ness, and given that she was thrusting her hips up into his face even as she said it, Spike was well aware of that fact.

“Your point being?” he inquired, emphasizing his point with another long lick and delighting in the delicious little shudder her body emitted.

“Aaah! Um...keep going?” Buffy suggested, gasping blissfully when he did.

Spike could almost feel his own happiness coursing through his veins. They’d gone through so much—both of them had suffered far more than could be considered normal—and it was incredible that they’d come so far. He’d been fighting his love for her since the moment he’d first seen her, all the way back in eighth grade. But now he’d finally given in.

And God, did it feel good.

~*~
 

Chapter 34;

“You know what was even funnier than Giles, though?” Buffy asked, giggling and burrowing a bit closer to Spike, laying her tousled head on his chest. “The look on Harmony’s face. I swear she was about to blow into a billion pieces.”

Spike chuckled, the rumble comforting against Buffy’s ear. “You’re a vindictive one, aren’t you, pet?”

She grinned up at him. “When it comes to someone moving in on my man, yes, I am, thank you very much.” My man. She loved saying that…

Her man. Would he ever get tired of being talked about that way?

Highly unlikely, Spike decided, drawing her a bit closer. It was two days before Christmas and they’d taken advantage Joyce’s now-common absence by grabbing a few hours in Buffy’s room for themselves.

“Still, it made me crack up,” Buffy said, giggling again. “Poor Giles. I think he was expecting us to do this huge, gooey report about how much the report changed our lives, instead of just following the requirements to the letter.”

“As opposed to Harm, who seemed to be waiting for us to start shaggin’ like bunnies in the middle of the floor,” Spike said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

She whacked his chest, only half in protest. “We just finished!”

“We can’t go again?”

Oh, crap, he’s pouting. He’s pouting and naked and oh my God I stare at his lips every single day and they never get the tiniest bit less hot—

Spike didn’t have time to attack her—she attacked him.

They both groaned as she pressed him into the pillow, lips attacking his, her hand wrapping around his already hard dick. “Want you now,” she muttered, kissing his chest.

“C’mon, then,” Spike gasped, and he pulled her fully on top of, and then into, him.

Buffy smiled down at him as she rode him. She’d thought their first time had been amazing—every single time after that surpassed the one past by leaps and bounds. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more wonderful, Spike showed her something new, or expressed his love in a different way, and she reached a more amazing bliss than she’d ever seen before. It was beyond perfect—she didn’t even think there was a word for how happy he could make her.

“God, Spike—I love you. I love you I love youIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou—“

“Buffy…God…love you so—bloody—much—“ Spike grunted, pushing up into her.

“Yes,” she hissed, arching her back, going faster, faster—

She leaned down and furiously smashed her lip against his, the next angle making him rub places that sent her tumbling over the edge once again. Less than a second after she exploded, he did, too, shooting into her, babbling her name and various endearments over and over. She listened contentedly.

“You know,” she remarked when they’d both calmed down a bit, “We really should thank Giles.”

Spike grunted. “Spoil the mood much, luv?”

“Sorry,” Buffy said with an grin that was anything but. “It’s just, he was the one who finally forced us to work together. We hated each other then, remember? And I was all dumb valley girl.”

“When did that change—‘ey! No fair play!” Spike shrieked, and then began laughing, as Buffy mercilessly dug into his armpits and tickled him.

“Take it back,” she said determinedly, wiggling her fingers a bit more to emphasize her point.

“Right—okay—take it back!” he exclaimed, gasping for breath. When she settled back down next to him he said, “Although y’know, I think Giles was just doing what everybody in the school was hopin’ someone would do. Wouldn’t’ve surprised me if Anya an’ Faith an’ that lot had decided to shove us together—ole’ Rupes just got there first.”

Buffy was about to reply when an extremely unwelcome noise split the air: Ding-dong.

They both froze, their eyes flying to meet one another’s’. Very, very carefully, Buffy slid out of the bed and walked over to the window. She sighed in relief when she saw the mailman driving away. “It’s just the mail,” she announced—and then gasped when she realized why the man had rung the bell. “I’ll be right back,” she blurted out, and raced downstairs.

Spike propped himself up on his elbow, wondering what had gotten his girl so excited. Had she ordered something she wanted to show him? Maybe she’d picked some lingerie out of that hot little catalogue he’d found in her drawer the other day…his eyes glazed over as he considered the possibilities.

He couldn’t help but grin when Buffy came back inside the room, carrying two large envelopes and looking sheepish. Her face was bright red.

“Why’re you blushin’, pet? Not that it isn’t cute,” he teased, “But ‘d like to know the reason. Order any dirty magazines?”

“My neighbor—you know, that weird lady who insists I call her April? Yeah, she just saw me almost naked.”

Spike couldn’t help himself—he burst into laughter. “Why—the bloody hell—didn’t you put some clothes on?” he gasped out, trying to contain bursts of giggles and failing utterly.

Buffy looked thoroughly disgruntled—cute, but disgruntled. “I thought no one would be out there,” she admitted, rolling her eyes when Spike continued to laugh.

Normally she would’ve joined in, but right now she was incredibly nervous. She knew that Spike had applications out to a bunch of universities—hell, with his grades, they’d let him in anywhere—but she was hoping that what was in the envelope with his name on it would change that.

“Um, Spike?” she asked in what she hoped was a normal voice. She knew it wasn’t when he halted laughing instantly and looked at her with a worried expression on his face. “Yeah, kitten?”

“Remember how I said I’d maybe apply to UCLA, early decision?”

“Yeah,” Spike said, uneasy. College was something he’d been trying not to think about—he didn’t want to be away from the girl he loved for a second more than he absolutely had to be.

“Well—“ Buffy could feel her cheeks getting redder. Damn it. “I got in. But When I applied, I kinda—I kinda applied for you, too.” And then, before he had a chance to say anything, she shoved the envelope into his hand.

She’d been expecting for him to laugh at her, or maybe get a little annoyed. But instead he just gave her one long, unreadable look and opened the envelope.

Mr. Spike Walsh: We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to attend the University of California in Los Angeles for the coming year…

He stared at the paper, not fully comprehending what he was seeing. Buffy and me are gonna be going to the same college. We’re gonna still be able to see each other every day. This is—

“Bloody fantastic,” he whispered, finally tearing his gaze away from the paper to see Buffy standing in front of him, clearly nervous.

“So you like it?” she asked hesitantly, taking a baby step towards the bed.

Spike reached out and grabbed her, causing her to tumble onto the sheets beside him. He answered her with a kiss that was so hard and went on for so long that by the time he was done his heart was racing and the admissions papers were thoroughly crumpled in between them. “I sodding well love it,” he whispered heatedly, trailing kisses along her jaw line.

“Oh, good,” Buffy said in a breathless voice. “Because I wanted us to be together, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go to UCLA.”

“Don’t care where I go,” Spike informed her. “’long as I’m near you.”

“That works out, then,” she said, smiling happily. She was so relieved he hadn’t been angry with her…going to UCLA with him was going to be like a dream.

“Though,” he continued, “’m a bit confused as to where we’re gonna be staying. ‘Cause ‘m never gonna get laid ‘f we both get dorms.”

“Yeah, I thought of that,” she said proudly. “We’ll be staying with my Aunt Kim. Her apartment is a few blocks away from the university.”

“Your aunt? Pet, the rest of this plan is lovely, but I don’t fancy four years of celibacy.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Buffy said hastily. “She’s really nice and cool and stuff. She’ll leave us alone.”

“In that case, your plan is bloody perfect.” He began to nuzzle her breasts happily.

Buffy sighed, sinking into the bed, pulling him with her. “You’re perfect.”

Spike smirked. “Nice to know ‘m appreciated,” he said, leaning in for another kiss. When they parted he whispered, “An’ just for the record, luv—your just ‘bout as perfect as they come, yourself.”

“Mmm…” she pulled his head down again, kissing him. She’d been doing that a lot lately; it was nice to know it would be able to continue.

Because she wanted it to continue. Crazy though it was, nothing as good as her relationship with Spike had ever happened to her before. They’d fought bitterly for so many years—but now they were in perfect accord about almost everything. When they did disagree, it was mostly in jest. They loved each other—that was finally enough to erase the bitterness of the past.

For the longest time, everyone had known how much they hated each other—and both Buffy and Spike had believe it. They’d had to struggle past foolish misconceptions and stereotypes, both real and manufactured. But it had been worth it. As Spike entered her and she gasped in a combination of astonishment and joy, she was certain of that fact. The love on his face, the love she felt in her own heart, made her absolutely positive of that.

It had been worth it. It still was worth it. What they had went beyond simple lust or infatuation. It was love, pure and simple.

And finally, as her body clenched around his, Buffy knew. She knew that after all this time, after all her searching and hating and crying, she’d finally found what she was looking for. She was home, and she was never going to leave.

She clutched Spike to her, reveling in the feel of her body against his. “I love you,” she whispered, glorying in how close their bodies were. “I love you so, so much, Spike.”

And she was happy.


~~*The End*~~

A/N: WOW. It’s over!

Well, now that it’s done, thanks are in order. A thousand heaps of billboard-sized thank you’s to anyone who ever reviewed! I wrote this story through some tough times, and they really helped me keep writing. This story was more successful than my two other long fics combined, so I figure I must be doing something right =D and it’s reviews that tell me just exactly what that is. I was absolutely stunned by the response I got to this fic—even though a lot of you didn’t like the angst, you still read it and told me what you thought. You guys have stuck with me through thick and thin, through the angst and the fluff, and I love every single one of you for it. You guys are AWESOME!! *huggles everyone and gives them cookies and nekkid Spikes*

Kimber: hope you liked the “Aunt Kim” detail. I couldn’t resist =D

And finally, because pimping yourself will never go out of style (possible because it was never in style, but why sweat the small stuff?): next up on the list of fics is “Nothing More.” I’ve already posted two chapters. It’s an AU Buffyverse fic set in the world of “The Wish”, and it has Vamp Willow, Dracula, tortured vampire Dawn, a trip around Europe during which Buffy and Spike are forced to work together…anyway, it should be fun, so if that sort of fic is your thing (or even if it’s not, lol) check it out please =D Thanks again for all your support for Common Knowledge!

~~Panta_Rei