Chapter Six: The Kiss

About an hour later, the basement door opened, and Gunn yelled down the stairs, "Hey, vampire. You down there?"

"Bloody . . . hell," Spike cursed to himself. He put down the half-empty bottle in his hand - the one Faith had left - and stared up toward the voice. "Yes?" he hollered.

Gunn descended a few steps and then leaned down to see Spike, who was sitting on the cot, his back up against the wall. "Buffy wants you. Final plans and all. She told me not to take no for an answer."

"Or what? She'll stick the Scoobies on me? Or better yet, maybe she'll send someone else down to talk me to death."

"Okayyy," Gunn said slowly. "Just, when you're ready? Buffy wants you." Gunn moved up the stairs, leaving the door open behind him.

"Right, Buffy wants me," Spike said, pushing himself off the cot. "Never happen."

Spike crossed the floor and mounted the stairs. As soon as he reached the main level he was instantly assaulted by a stale rush of warm air, and the sound of twenty voices talking at once. The whole tribe was spread throughout the house, but the air was still buzzing with noise and energy, and it was quite disorienting, after the relative quiet of the basement.

Spike pushed his way passed Andrew and Dawn who were arguing in the kitchen, and made his way to the dining room. He didn't think anyone noticed him enter.

Buffy noticed.

Buffy's skin suddenly felt tingly, and she looked up to see Spike entering the room. She tried to smile at him, reassuringly, but he wouldn't look at her. He took up his previous place against the wall, and just stared straight ahead.

A moment later, Faith joined the group. She sauntered in and perched herself on the edge of a side table, several inches from Spike. Buffy noticed the sly smile on Faith's lips. One she had obviously meant only for Spike.

Buffy could feel a hard knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Seeing them together, she finally realized that she hadn't seen either one of them in hours. What the hell had they been doing?

"Well, good," Wesley said, when Faith finally got settled, "Faith is here. Spike," he nodded at the vampire. "Now we can finalize the battle plan."

Buffy took a deep, steadying breath. She could feel Angel at her side, his hand resting on her elbow, for support. It wasn't helping. She felt like the floor was going to cave in. "All right," she began, "this is the plan."

* * *

Several hours later, the strategizing in the dining room, finally came to an end.

"I think that's the best we can do," Buffy said, standing up from the table wearily. "We don't have much time left. If we don't get some sleep now, we'll never be up to strength to go into battle tomorrow. This is it."

Buffy watched as the would-be Slayers crowded their way into the doorway between the living room and the dining room. She turned to address them. "I know you're tired. And I know you're scared. We have a battle before us tomorrow. One we may very well lose. But we have to try. We have to fight. If we don’t, we die. Now," she moved around the tabled and stepped closer to them, "you know that not all of us are going to make it. This may be our last night on this earth, so do whatever it is you have to do, before that happens. Call your families. Let them know that you love them. This is it. No regrets."

Buffy heard a door close somewhere behind her. The basement door. Spike had left, she could sense it. She wanted to turn around, but couldn't.

"Maybe, if we're lucky, some of us will actually come out of this in one piece." Buffy turned her back toward them in dismissal. "Goodnight."

She heard the collective sound of a dozen or so girls mumbling "Goodnight." Then, they shuffled back into the living room and began chattering amongst themselves.

"That goes for us too," Buffy said, addressing the leadership of her little army. "Whatever you have to do, do it tonight." She looked up at Angel. "There may not be a tomorrow."

Buffy made her exit as quickly as possible. She didn't want to be around them, any of them. They would die - probably most of them. What comfort could she give? What good was being their fearless leader, if she couldn't offer them any real hope, just bitter consolation the night before their gruesome deaths? Oh God, how were they ever going to get though this?

Buffy was pacing nervously again, when she heard a knock at her door. The door opened before she could reach it.

"Can I come in?" Angel stuck his head inside the room and looked at Buffy.

"Yeah, sure." She sighed.

Buffy slumped down onto the corner of her bed and stared up at him, as he closed the door and crossed into the room.

"Do you mind if I . . .?" he asked, gesturing toward the bed.

"No. Sure. Go ahead," Buffy said flatly, her eyes staring listlessly ahead.

He sat on the opposite corner. "This is nice," he said, nodding his head. "Not bad at all."

Buffy turned a little and looked at him. "What do you want?" Her tone was anything but playful.

Angel sobered up. "To talk. Buffy, do you trust me?" he asked.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course." She shook her head in slight wonderment at his question. "I wouldn't have asked you to help me save the world if I didn't."

"Then why didn't you tell me about Spike?"

Buffy's blood froze in her veins. "Spike?" her voice squeaked a little.

"Why didn't you tell me he had gotten his soul back? Isn't that the kind of thing I need to know?"

Buffy searched her brain for some answer. He didn't know about her and Spike? Oh thank God. What was she going to tell him? "I honestly wasn’t even thinking about it."

"What?"

"Well, you know, it may be news to you, but it isn't news to us. This isn't just a recent development. He's had the soul for months now. Since he came back from Africa."

"And what was he doing in Africa?" Angel's voice was hard.

"That's where it happened. Where he got the soul back. Angel," she shifted toward him a little more, "it isn't important. Not now. Spike has a soul, which makes him a valuable ally. He's a good fighter, and that's all that's really important right now."

"Fine. I won't argue with you, if you're so damned determined. But," he said with emphasis, "if we do live through this, don't expect me not to give you hell for it, when it's all over."

"Well, if you don't mind standing in line, you're welcome to it."

"Buffy, there's something I have to tell you." His tone changed slightly. Suddenly he became even more broody and serious.

"I already know," she said, getting up from the bed and taking a few agitated steps away.

"No. I don't think that you do."

"Connor is your son." She turned around to face him. "I know. I found out this morning."

Angel stared at her for a long moment. "That's not it." He got up from the bed and came to stand in front of her, their bodies separated by mere inches. "There's something else Buffy."

"Something bigger than Connor being your son?"

"Yes."

Buffy could feel her muscles tensing. What could be bigger than Angel having a son? "Well," she pulled away from him, "maybe I don't want to know."

"You have to." He followed her. "If the world does end tomorrow, you have to know this."

"Why?" She turned around to meet his gaze. "Why is it important that I know? Don't you think I have enough of the weight of the world on my shoulders for right now?"

"Buffy," he grabbed her by the arms to keep her in front of him, "the curse. It's gone."

"What?" Buffy tried to pull away, but he held her firm. "No. That's not possible."

"Buffy, look at me." He shook her slightly to get her attention. "It is. It's a long story, but essentially, the gang had to remove my soul, so we could get some information out of Angelus. Releasing my soul, released the curse. Now, I'm free. Buffy, I'm free."

Buffy looked up at him, her eyes filled with disbelief. Was it true? How could it be true? "How can you be sure?"

"The monk who restored my soul told me. He's one of the good guys Buffy, he wouldn't lie. And Cordelia . . . well," he broke her gaze, "Cordelia can see things. She knows. She told me herself."

Angel loosened his grip and Buffy was able to slip away. Her mind was whirling with unexplored possibilities. "So you . . .?"

"Yes, Buffy, yes. I can be with you." He took a step closer to her. "Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Buffy stared up into his eyes, lost in the depths of his dark orbs. Was it? She couldn't remember. What did she want? Her head was spinning. She was exhausted. Restless. Her mind hungry for any kind of relief. Finally, a single word escaped her lips, "Yes."

"Buffy," he whispered her name, as he drew her closer and brought his lips down to hers.

Buffy nearly fainted at the sensation. Angel was kissing her. Oh God, she had thought she'd never feel that again. How many times had she dreamed about being with him again? It felt so wonderful to be in his safe, strong arms. It was so comforting. Reassuring. There was nothing complicated about it. It was just nice, and soothing, and . . . terribly wrong.

Buffy instantly broke the kiss and tore herself away from Angel.

"What's wrong?" he asked, genuine surprise apparent on his face.

"I . . ." What was wrong? What could she say? That it really was nice kissing him, but that he just didn’t do anything for her anymore? That he was safe, but she didn't want safe? That she wanted something else. She stared back at him, at a loss.

"Buffy, I thought this was what you wanted? That speech you gave, about having no regrets? I thought . . ." Angel paused, lost for a moment in thought. "Is there someone else?"

Buffy took in a strong, slow breath and faced him squarely. "Yes," she said, without apology.

"Then why did you come up here? Why did you let me in?"

"Because it's easier."

"What's easier?"

"You." She turned away from him. "I know what I said downstairs, but . . ."

"Buffy. If there's someplace you need to be, you should go. I won't stop you. I love you Buffy, you know that. I always will. But if there's someone you'd rather spend tonight with than me, I have no right to hold you back."

"You're not." She moved to face him again. "I am. Angel, so much has changed. Everything has changed. I'm not the girl you knew. I've grown up. Things are different now. You have no idea what I've been through. The torment I've suffered. The little day to day things that have been so impossible for me the past couple of years. I've barely survived it. Sometimes, when I look back, I realize that just one thing got me through. One . . . person."

"Then you should go to him."

She shook her head. "I can't. It's not right. Not with the girls here, and everything."

"The girls?"

"Yeah."

"He's here?" Angel stared at her quizzically. "Somewhere in the house?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows at him and bit her lower lip in confirmation.

"Tell me it's not Xander."

"No, it's not Xander." She sighed.

"Giles?" he asked, his voice slightly apprehensive.

"No. It's not Giles, or Andrew, or Wesley, or Gunn, or Lorne, or Connor" she rambled, naming every male in the house save one.

"Or Spike?" Angel asked, his tone suddenly icy.

Buffy looked away, confirming Angel's worst fear.

"No. I won't believe it."

"It's the truth. It's time that you knew."

"No. This, I don't want to know." He turned and headed toward the door.

"I love him Angel." The words just came out, even surprising Buffy. She had never admitted it out loud before, not really. She loved Spike. Loved him in a way that went beyond her feelings for Angel. It was time the truth finally came out.

Her words stopped him cold. Angel swung around and glared at Buffy. "You don't know what you mean."

"Yes I do." She fought back, coming forward and stopping just inches in front of him. "I love him. I don't expect you to understand it, or accept it, but it's the way I feel. It's the truth. Do you think I like it? Do you think it's easy for me, wanting him? Loving him? It's hard, and it's complicated, but it's my life Angel. For better or for worse, even if the world ends tomorrow, Spike is my life. I'm sorry."

"So what? You've done this before? You and he . . .?"

"Not in a very long time."

"Buffy!"

"Angel, I'm sorry."

"I don't believe this." He pulled away and began walking circles on the floor. "You and Spike? You love Spike? You want Spike over me?"

"Egotistical, much?"

"That's not what I meant." He stopped to stare at her. "Buffy, what if the world doesn’t end tomorrow? What if you both survive this?"

"Then I cross that bridge when I come to it. I have to see him tonight." She moved toward the door.

"Buffy." Angel reached out and stopped her. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? If I had had any idea that it was Spike you were talking about I would never have--"

"I know. I have to tell him Angel. I have to. He deserves to know."

"You never even told him?" He searched her eyes disbelievingly.

"No. But I have to. Tonight."

Chapter Seven: Confrontations

A few minutes later, Angel found himself on the back porch of the Summers home, standing against the railing, staring out into the blackness of the night. Their last night on earth, and Buffy was off declaring her undying love to the evil undead? Angel secretly wondered if the Apocalypse hadn't already happened. Maybe this was hell, and they were all just too stupid to realize it.

Suddenly, Angel felt a presence behind him. He didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He stayed perfectly still and silent, as Cordelia moved up to stand beside him.

"She's with him, isn't she?"

"How did you know?" Angel turned to her, pain and accusation marring his face.

She met his gaze directly. "It's obvious. Anyone can see it. You just have to look at them."

Angel let out a low, feral growl as he turned away from her. "Well I didn't see it."

"You didn’t want to see it. They've been through a lot together. From what Willow told me, it's a lot more than you can imagine. That does something to people Angel. When you fight beside someone, everyday - never knowing if each new battle is going to be your last - it forges a bond. Something deep and unbreakable. You know that. We've all fought together long enough to understand that. They have a connection. They've fought, side by side--"

"I don't want to hear it," he cut her off, brusquely.

"Fine." She moved closer to him, her stance determined. "But if you think that's going to make it any easier, you're wrong. You can't just deny the truth and pretend that nothing's happened. You've already done that with us. It's time you stopped running, and faced up to your fears."

"My fears?" He glared at her. "I don't have fears. I'm a vampire. I instill terror in others, not the other way around."

"Ha!"

"What did you say?" he asked, in slight disbelief.

"I said 'Ha!' You are afraid Angel. You're afraid of life. You get your curse lifted and the first thing you do is go sniffing after Buffy? Oh please, that is so over. It was so over years ago. The only reason you tried cuddling up to Buffy was because it was safe. A pretty little fairy tale. Well life isn't a fairy tale, Angel. Life is real. It's painful, and it's hard, and uncompromising. But it's real. And a hell of a lot more powerful than any stupid, schoolboy fantasy. Get over it Angel. You're just running. It's time you faced the truth."

Angel stared at her for a long, hard moment. The anger inside of him was threatening to break through the surface and rend the thinly veiled façade he had worked so hard to keep intact. She was wrong. He wasn't running. He wasn't scared of anything. "You're wrong," he said dangerously.

"No I'm not. If we do, in fact, die tomorrow, what are you saving yourself from? What pain or heartache are you avoiding by not trusting me?" She moved in closer, so that they were standing just inches apart. Titling her head back slightly, she stared up into his eyes. "What's going to happen if you face your fears Angel?" she asked softly.

Angel could feel the heat radiating from her body. She was so close. He felt his chest constrict, the muscles tightening all through his body. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he couldn't. What a damn fool he was.

He took a step back, never breaking her gaze. "I'm sorry," was all he said.

"That's a start." She took a step closer, but he held up his hands to hold her off.

"No. You don't understand. What I did tonight - what I tried to do," he corrected, "was wrong. It was an act of cowardice, but that doesn’t make it all right. I had every intention of . . ." he looked away for a moment, "being with Buffy. There's nothing I can do to make it right."

Cordelia closed the distance between them, and brought her hand up to caress his face. "Is that what you really think? Tell me Angel, are all vampire's as dense as you?"

"I don’t know. I'd imagine Spike's pretty high up there. I mean, he never did have the smallest shred of common sense. It's a miracle he's lasted this long. Maybe, more like a curse."

"I don't want to talk about Spike."

"Okay," he said nervously, "no complaints here."

"Kiss me Angel."

"What?"

"Kiss me."

Angel could feel his body weakening as she pressed against him. He stared into her eyes again, one last time, memorizing the look of love and desire he saw there. Slowly, he closed his eyes and leaned forward. He heard Cordy sigh as she leaned in and closed the distance. Their lips met, and Angel realized, just what this night was really meant for.

* * *

Buffy sighed in frustration as she tried to make her way past Anya and Andrew. They were arguing in the bathroom and had waylaid Buffy to play intermediary. All she really wanted was to get to Spike, but first she had to escape the evil clutches of the nerd and the ex-demon.

"Look you little cretin, you can't stay in here all night. The world is going to end tomorrow and some of us have to pee. So get out." Anya tried to push him through the open door.

'Hey," Andrew protested. "Buffy, tell her to stop it. She always has to pee. It's not my fault she has a bladder problem."

"Look," Buffy said, sternly. "Are you two finished?"

"I would be if Andrew would just leave."

"But I need to . . ."

Buffy grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him out into the hallway. Anya closed the door behind them. "If you know what's good for you," Buffy said, letting go of him, "you'll stop arguing with the vengeance demon."

"Ex-vengeance demon," he corrected.

"Right. You remind her of that when she's making party streamers out of your viscera." She smiled at him. "Goodnight, Andrew."

Buffy fled before he could say another word. She was getting anxious, and she desperately wanted to see Spike.

Quickly, she made her way downstairs, her heart racing, the blood thrumming through her veins. She needed to see Spike, needed to tell him.

Buffy was halfway down the steps when Faith came bounding around the corner, and started up the stairs herself. The two Slayers almost collided.

"Hey?" Faith said, stepping back a couple of steps, and grabbing onto the railing, her body completely blocking Buffy's path. "I thought you were going to bed? Big battle and all?"

"Yes," Buffy said coldly, "but there's something I have to do before bed."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Faith said, as she pushed passed her. "Hey?" She turned around, staring down at Buffy. "Didn't you just leave Angel? Wow B, I have to give you credit. I really didn't think you had it in you. Two in one night."

Buffy inhaled a much-needed breath, and prayed that her nerves would sustain her. There was something she had to know. "What . . . exactly . . . happened between you and Spike tonight?"

Faith smiled devilishly. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" She turned to continue up the stairs.

Buffy moved up and grabbed Faith by the forearm, stopping her. "Yes . . . I would," she said, her voice hard.

"Okay," Faith said defensively, pulling her arm out of Buffy's grip. "You want to know? We had a little talk, Spike and I."

"A little talk about what?"

"Oh, you know? This, that, life, death . . . sex. The whole shebang."

Buffy could feel her muscles beginning to tighten. She seriously wanted to punch Faith. "And?"

"And? The world's ending tomorrow, and neither of us had anybody to spend this last night with, so," Faith shrugged, "we . . . connected."

Buffy's eyes narrowed and she glared at Faith. "You . . ." Buffy caught her breath. She couldn't even say it. "You had sex with Spike?"

Faith laughed. "Oh, that's a good one. You worried B?" She moved down closer, her face inches from Buffy's. "Afraid I tamed your little pet vampire?"

"Yes, or no?"

Faith smiled again. "I offered. Offered to make him forget all about you. After all, we both thought you'd be upstairs doing Angel all night. I guess we were wrong. Or were we?"

"What did he do?"

"What do you think he did?" Faith snapped, her tone turning harsh. "He decided to hold out for Buffy. Dear, precious Buffy. You've trained him real well B. I have to give you credit. Although, if I ever had a vampire like Spike, the last thing I'd want him to be is housebroken."

Faith turned around and walked up the rest of the stairs. "Sweet dreams, sister Slayer," she said, looking back over her shoulder. "Enjoy your last night on earth."

Chapter Eight: In the Basement

Spike was lying on the cot in the basement, staring up at the ceiling. He was supposed to be trying to sleep, but he couldn't. And it had nothing to do with being a creature of the night.

Damn that magnificent poof! Damn Buffy too! Who the bloody hell did they think they were anyway? Dwight D. Eisenhower and Douglas McArthur, leading their little troops off to victory? He hated seeing them together. The way they worked, the way they came together like they had never been apart. And that wanker had been staring at him all day. All day and all night, until Spike had just wanted to pop his bleedin' caveman head, right off his bleedin' caveman body. What did she see in him? The big nancy-boy ponce.

Spike didn't want to think about what they were doing right now. He had heard Buffy's little speech about "no regrets," and telling people that you love them. No doubt, she was upstairs in her room right now, showing dear old Peaches just how much she loved him. Spike wanted to throw something. Get up and punch a hole in the wall. Something! But he couldn't. There was going to be a fight tomorrow, a fight to save the world. Whatever was going on upstairs, he still had to save Buffy. He couldn't desert her now, no matter what it was she had chosen to do with her last night on earth.

Spike closed his eyes and listened to the sounds filtering through the basement floor. Most of the ruckus had died down, but he could still make out the distinct sound of small, bare feet pattering across the floor every once in a while. The girls' light murmurings also invaded his ears. They were afraid. He could hear it in the tones of their voices. They were all trying to put up a good front for Buffy, but he could tell they were terrified.

Footsteps.

He heard footsteps, moving across the kitchen and stopping at the basement door. The door opened and someone stepped inside. He didn't even bother to open his eyes. It was probably one of the little bints, coming down for a forgotten piece of laundry or something. Maybe one of them had left a stake on the training room floor.

The door closed, and Spike heard the unmistakable sound of the door being locked. His eyes shot open and he sat up on the cot. "Who's there?"

He saw someone moving down the stairs. A cold shock surged through his body when he realized who it was.

"I thought you'd know my footsteps by now." Buffy descended the last step and came to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly expecting you." Spike got up and looked around for something to do. He couldn't just stand there and talk to her. He needed to be doing something. Instinctively, he reached for his duster, which was strewn over a box in the corner. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He turned to look at her, resting his hip against the box. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Want to tell me all about Angel and his shiny, new, uncursed soul?" he said, sarcastically.

"You know?"

"'Course I know." He took a drag of the cigarette and threw it to the ground in frustration. "I admit, you guys weren't really up there that long. Is the old sire losing his touch? Well . . . come on . . . really. He never actually was that good to begin with."

"You speaking from personal experience?" She raised a cynical brow in question.

"Bloody hell, no!" Spike nearly popped a blood vessel. "I was talking about Dru! Always did come back to me in the end."

Buffy just stared at him. "Are you finished?"

"You know what?" He moved up closer to her. "No. I'm not. You want to spend the last night of your life shagging that nancy-boy poof? That's fine. But you have an army to run. You're getting too caught up in your own little personal problems, all of a sudden. You won't make an effective leader if you don't stop it right now. Think Buffy! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

She shook her head at him in obvious frustration. "I have as much right as any of those girls up there, to spend this night however I see fit." She began moving toward him, with determination.

Spike backed away with each step.

"You think that makes me an ineffective leader? Maybe it does. But I've saved the world enough times, to spend this night how I want." She backed him up against the wall. "To seize the moment and do what I have to do."

Buffy stared up at him, her eyes suddenly softening. He felt like he was drowning in the hazy warmth of her eyes. "Buffy . . ."

"Spike." She placed her hand tenderly against his chest.

A pang of jealousy instantly swept through him. He knew she had been with Angel. Hadn't she? What was she doing, coming down here and cozying up to him? What was he getting, the consolation prize? Why had she bothered to come and see him at all?

"What do you want from me, Slayer?" His voice hardened. "What is this? Suddenly you're the bloody USO, come to rally the troops? Well, you shouldn't have bothered." He knocked her hand from his chest and stepped away. "I'm not a soldier in your army. I'm fighting for myself. Not for you." He lied. "So don’t bother telling me that you care. Go back to your precious golden boy and leave me alone."

Spike seethed silently, his back turned to her. Why had she come to see him? To make it up to him? To sooth his wounded ego? Well, he didn't need her sympathy. Or her pity. He'd fight beside her when the time came, no matter who she was shagging. It didn't matter to him. He just wished she'd leave him alone and let him grieve in peace, while he still had the luxury.

He felt Buffy move up behind him. He steeled himself as she advanced.

"I kissed Angel," she said, matter-of-factly.

Spike felt like someone had just driven a stake through his unbeating heart. Instinctively, his hand came up to clutch at his chest. Other than that, he couldn't move.

"I kissed him." She took a single step closer.

"I heard you the first time, luv."

"But that's all."

Spike spun around and stared at her, his eyes searching hers feverishly. "But the curse, it's been removed."

"I know."

"Then why . . .? Buffy, why?" He didn't understand. Suddenly his anger melted away, replaced by a heady feeling of confusion.

In an instant, she closed the distance between them and came to stand just a hairsbreadth away from him. "Because, I don't love him."

"But," he tried to find the words, "it's what you wanted. What you've always wanted. The only reason Angel left was because--"

"I know."

"I don't understand."

"Yes, you do." She moved closer so that they were now touching, her body molding intimately to his.

Spike's eyes widened for the briefest second, as he realized just exactly what it was she intended to do. "Wait," he pulled away from her again, needing to escape the confusion that her nearness was causing him. "Buffy, why? Why me? Why not Angel? Cordelia says he's more than willing."

"He was."

"Then why me?"

"Because . . . I love you."

Suddenly Spike felt like the entire Hellmouth had opened up and swallowed him whole. "What did you just say?"

"I said that I love you Spike. You. Spike. I love you." She moved forward and stopped a comfortable distance away from him.

"Do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes. I do. Spike, I had to tell you. If the world does end tomorrow, you had to know. It wasn't fair of me to keep it from you any longer. I'm sorry I waited this long."

Spike could feel the borrowed blood humming through his veins. He felt lightheaded, and slightly disoriented. "You mean this?"

"I do. Spike." She came up to him and placed both of her hands firmly on his chest. "I love you. And if this is our last night on earth together, I want to spend it with you."

Spike looked down at her, searching her eyes for any hint of delusion or deception. He found none. She meant it. She wanted him. Oh God, she loved him!

An involuntary shudder coursed through his chest as he realized just how lucky he was. How happy he was. If he did die tomorrow, he would die the happiest man on earth. It didn't matter what tomorrow would bring. Tonight, they would have each other.

Trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to overtake him, he closed his eyes and leaned closer, kissing her tenderly. Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike's neck and pulled herself closer to him, their bodies molding together.

Oh God it had been so long! Too long.

Without even thinking, Spike picked her up and carried her over to the small cot. It wasn't the exact setting that he had imagined when he had fantasized about making love to her again. But it would have to do. They couldn't go upstairs. That would really traumatize the little girls, not to mention Angel. No, the basement would have to do. After all, it wasn't the worst place they had ever been together. At least the cot was soft, and there was a pillow and a blanket.

Spike lowered Buffy down gently. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, their gazes locked heatedly. He moved to pull away, but she protested.

Spike smiled. "Give us a second, luv." He moved a few inches from the cot, still clearly in her line of view, and began removing his clothes. He could feel Buffy's eyes wandering over his body. He grew hard at the sensation.

When he was finished, he turned and moved toward Buffy. She was laid out on the cot, staring up at him. He knelt down beside her on the floor, and she pushed herself up to a sitting position to look at him.

Slowly, he ran his hands along the hem of her tank top and gently pulled it over her head, revealing the creamy expanse of her breasts. Their eyes never breaking contact, she laid back on the bed and Spike moved his hands to the waistband of her pajama bottoms. It didn't take him long to remove the offending garment, and the little lace panties beneath. Soon Buffy was lying before him naked, her magnificence exposed for his eyes alone.

Spike drew in a sharp, shuddering breath as his eyes scanned her body. It had been so long since he had seen her like this. He wanted her so desperately. And thankfully, she wanted him.

Raising his eyes to hers, once again, he slowly raised himself from the floor and slid onto the cot beside her. The little bed was too small by half, but it was all they had.

He rested his hand on her knee, and gently slid it upward to rest on her thigh. "Buffy," he whispered, unable to help himself.

"Spike, I want you." She reached up, cupping her hand around the back of his head. She pulled him closer, their lips barely touching.

He could feel her warm breath flickering across his lips. It sent shivers down his spine.

"Make love to me. Please."

That simple word, "Please." It was his undoing.

Spike closed the distance between them, capturing her mouth with his own, claiming her as his own. Buffy moaned and wriggled up against him, wrapping her leg about his waist and drawing him closer. Spike ran his hand up her side and lovingly caressed her breast.

He wanted this to last forever. But he knew it couldn't. This might be their last night together, and he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to savor every, single moment, as if it were his last.

He concentrated on her mouth, for what seemed like hours, their hands roaming each other's bodies. Exploring. Trying to recapture long-ago memories.

Finally, he broke away, and began exploring with his mouth. He trailed sweet kisses down her neck, then across her collarbone. He stopped at each of her breasts - teasing her nipples, suckling, doing whatever he could to bring her pleasure. His mouth roamed lower, covering nearly every inch of her flesh, until she was trembling beneath him.

"Spike please," she whimpered.

Reluctantly, he tore himself away from the tantalizing taste of her flesh, and laid himself flush against her. He looked down into her cloudy, hazel eyes, and caught his breath. "You know I love you, don't you?" he asked, his voice breaking with emotion. "I love you Buffy. Oh God, how I love you."

She smiled at him, a small tremulous smile, and then pulled him closer. "I know. Please, Spike, now." Her mewling cry was pleading and desperate.

Spike parted her thighs and positioned himself between them. Buffy leaned her head back, closing her eyes, and exposing a sinful view of her throat. The pulse there called to the monster inside of him, but he could never ask her for a taste. He was beyond that. He was a man now. Not a monster. Buffy wouldn't be with him if he was. He had to resist the temptation.

Spike entered her slowly, savoring every second of the sweet friction between them. He heard Buffy moan as he slid deep inside of her, filling her as completely as he could. She began to move against him, urging him to thrust into her.

He couldn't tear his eyes from her face. He watched in awe as she gasped with each thrust, her body moving in perfect cadence with his own.

This wasn't like the other times; that first time in the abandoned building, that time in the alley behind the Double Meat Palace. This was so different.

Of course they couldn't make a lot of noise because of all the unwanted company upstairs, but it was more than that. For once, they weren't trying to hurt each other, weren't trying to prove who was stronger or who was in control. They were together because they wanted each other, simply because they wanted and loved each other. For the first time, their lovemaking actually was lovemaking. It was sweet and pure, and real. Driven by genuine affection. And acceptance.

Spike wanted to cry from the joy of it all, damn ponce that he was. Always was a sissy, nancy-boy. He didn't care though. He was with Buffy. She knew what he was. Had always known. And she didn't care. Man or demon, poet or monster, she loved him. And he liked to think she always had.

Spike could feel her tensing around him. She was close. He tried to prolong the moment for as long as he could, giving just enough to keep her from going over the edge. She was panting now, writhing beneath him, begging him with her body for release.

"Spike." She opened her eyes and stared up at him, her eyes two dark, endless pools of unfulfilled desire. "Spike," she put her hands on either side of his face and pulled him down to her. She held him there, their mouths just inches apart, for what seemed like an eternity, staring into his eyes. She inched herself forward to kiss him gently on the lips, then she pulled his head farther down her body, resting his face against the side of her neck.

Spike could have sworn he felt his heart flutter. What the bleedin' hell did she think she was doing? "Buffy." He tried to pull away from her, but she wouldn't let him.

"Please, Spike. It's all right. Just now. Do it now. Oh God, please!"

That was all the coaxing he needed. He was already on the brink himself. He was too far gone to resist the temptation any longer.

He kissed her neck once, sweetly. And then, without another thought, Spike shifted into gameface. He tried to catch his breath. Why did he even need to breath? God, the things Buffy did to him.

He pulled back a few precious inches, and got ready to strike. He didn't even need to be biting her. He could already feel his body getting ready to spasm. Just the promise of penetrating her tender flesh was driving him over the edge.

Before it was too late, he let out a small, animal roar, and sunk his fangs deep into Buffy's neck. She screamed out, as he tore her flesh, and Spike was afraid that he had really hurt her. He tried to pull back, but she wouldn’t let him.

She was moving against him again, and he could feel her inner walls pulsating against his hard shaft. She was climaxing around him, and it was too much for him to bear.

His mouth filled with the warm rush of Buffy's blood, Spike thrust inside her one last time. Instantly he crashed over the edge, spilling himself inside her. Oh God, there was nothing like it! The warm taste of Buffy's blood in his mouth, the feel of her hot flesh trembling around him, the scent of her body sweet and aroused. He loved all of it. Every last inch of her. And everything she had done for him.

Slowly, trying not to hurt her, Spike withdrew his fangs from her neck and his face shifted effortlessly to its human form. He kissed her wounds tenderly, licking the stray drops of blood away with his tongue. Buffy cooed unconsciously, as his mouth cooled her warm flesh.

Finally, Spike turned his head and rested it against her neck. For a long moment they just lay there, perfectly still. Buffy was still breathing heavy, but other than that, she didn't try to move. Spike could have stayed with her like that for the rest of eternity, however long that was.

Finally, he knew he had to pull away.

Relinquishing the warmth of her cradling limbs, he lay down beside her, and pulled her close, spooning her against him. He looked down at the unmarked side of her neck and placed a small kiss there. "Why did you do it?" he asked, his voice heavy with emotion. "Why did you do it luv?"

"Because," Buffy said, "it's what you deserve." She ran her hand along the arm that was holding her, and covered his hand with her own. "I love you Spike. And I trust you. I know what you are. And no matter what happens, I had to show you that I love all of you. The man and the demon. You had to know. I didn't want you to deny who you are. It wouldn't have been fair."

"Who cares about fair, pet? I could have hurt you."

She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. "No you couldn't have. You could never hurt me. I know that now. I love you Spike. I'm just sorry that I didn't tell you sooner."

"Water under the bridge," he scoffed.

"I wish it were just that." She turned back around and settled down into his arms.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you want me to bite you?"

He heard her laugh to herself and felt, more than saw, her smile. "Yes Spike, I did. I know, I know . . . not really a smart move for a Slayer. But hey? The world could end tomorrow," she said offhandedly.

"That's not funny," he admonished.

"No, it's not. But the point is, I wanted it Spike. I wanted to know what it would feel like. With you."

"And now that you know?" He raked his blunt, human teeth over the flesh of her bare neck.

She shivered against him. "I want to feel it again," she whispered, the surprise in her voice, even apparent to his ears.

"Well, that can be arranged luv. After all, we do have all night." He brought his mouth down against her neck, and kissed her again.

Chapter Nine: The Morning After

Early the next morning, Buffy woke to the unwelcome sound of footsteps parading across the living room floor. Grudgingly, she opened her eyes and glared up at the ceiling. "Darn Potentials," she grumbled under her breath.

"What was that pet?" Spike's arm tightened about her waist, and he placed a chaste kiss against her temple.

"Nothing. Just wishing I were still sleeping the sleep of the undead." She turned around to look at him, lying on her back as he hovered beside her.

"Well," he said, fingering the hem of the bedsheet that only barely covered her, "in case you hadn't noticed, the undead are not getting any sleep either. Soddin' wannabe Slayers," he growled. "I'll bet the poof made them do it on purpose. Sent them right to that spot," he pointed just above them, "and instructed them to stomp with all their would-be might."

Buffy giggled as she listened to Spike getting all self-righteous about Angel and the Potentials.

He looked back down at her. "Did you just giggle?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "The Slayer doesn't giggle. What are you? Some hormonal, teenage girl, all crazy over some boy band?"

He was making fun of her. Buffy kind of liked it. "Not quite," she said, as she pulled him closer, for a kiss.

"Right. Nothing silly about that," he said when she let him go. "Hormonal? Yes. But definitely nothing silly."

"Spike," her voice was soft, all hint of playfulness gone.

"I know. It's morning. It's time to go save the world."

"If we're lucky."

"I love you Buffy Anne Summers. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you still do love me? I mean, even after last night?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and stared up at him. "I will always love you. No matter what."

Spike looked down at her, regret and resignation reflected in his eyes. He pulled away from her, sliding off the cot and moving to retrieve his clothes from where he had left them on the floor the night before.

Buffy watched him. She couldn't help herself. This might be their last moment alone together, the last time she ever got to see him intimately. It was something she didn't want to give up, but she knew she had no choice.

Spike turned to look at her. "Aren't you going to get dressed luv?"

"Yeah, sure." Buffy threw off the covers, and put her bare feet on the cold, cement floor. A shock instantly shot up her spine, as her warm feet made contact with the cold stone. Well, apparently the dream was over. It was time to step back into reality.

Buffy found her clothes quickly, and went about getting dressed herself. As she pulled her rumpled tank top over her head, she noticed Spike staring at her. "What are you doing?" she asked, as she pulled the shirt firmly down over the top of her pajama bottoms.

"Emblazoning your image on my brain for all eternity. Even if I'm the one who dies today, at least I'll be able to take it with me."

"Spike." She came up to him and placed warm, trembling hands on either side of his face. "Whatever happens, we'll be together. We'll always be together."

He cupped one of her hands with his own, and brought it down so he could place a kiss against her palm. "I know luv. I know. But now," he took both of her hands in his, and squeezed them gently, "we go up there, and we fight the good fight. Give 'em hell!"

"That's what they want," she smiled slightly.

"Then we'll give 'em heaven. The First won't know what hit 'im. You'll see. You ready?" he looked at her with earnest, blue eyes.

"I'm ready."

Spike let go of her left hand, and pulled her closer with the right. He led her to the bottom of the stairs and stopped. "You know, once we go up there, luv, this has to end."

"I know." Buffy knew that once they reached the top of those stairs, and unlocked the basement door, all hell would break loose. There was a battle waiting up there for them. There would be no stolen kisses, no long last looks. There would be horror and bloodshed, and things a thousand times worse. This might very well be their last moment alone together. Ever. Buffy didn't want it to end.

Spike squeezed her hand again and gave her a small, reassuring smile as he turned to move up the stairs. But her voice stopped him.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?"

Without saying a word, Buffy pulled him to her and kissed him passionately, as if it were the last kiss of her life. Finally, trembling and breathless, she pulled away and stared up at him, her eyes brimming with emotion. "I love you Spike. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that, before we go."

"I know luv. I know." He leaned forward and kissed her one last time. "I love you too. With all my heart and all my soul."

With deep resignation, Buffy pulled out of his embrace and took his hand in her own. They looked at each other one last time before heading up the stairs together. They were walking into the unknown. Neither one of them knew what tomorrow would bring - or even if there would be a tomorrow. But they had done everything they could, everything they could to ensure the safety of the world, and to ensure their peace with each other. There would be no regrets. Now, only time and fate would tell how it would all end.

END