She was quite hard to figure, she usually couldn't get enough of saying how much she loathed and hated him; found him disgusting, And no, he didn't think that the lady protested too much on that account, he believed her, mostly. But it was rare moments such as these, like trusting him with her family that left him puzzled. Or when she felt it necessary to confide in him; talked to him like a human being, divulging information that she wouldn't dare tell others, not even her closest friends. It was beyond peculiar.

"Thanks for watching her." She said softly, so as not to disturb her sister, who was snuggled in her sleeping bag on the cold floor, warmed further by Spike's duster.

"No problem. Tired herself out from worrying."

"At least she's sleeping. It's good. She hasn't had a good rest since, since mom."

"Looks like you haven't either. I mean, you seem drained, is all."

"'Drained' very much being the operative word." She said with a brief, humorless laugh. She sat down on the floor against the wall with a sigh. He sat down gingerly next to her, close, but not too close.

"I just feel like the whole world is resting on my shoulders."

"Technically, it is, luv." He said wryly with a small grin. She gave a slight grin as well, though not looking at him. She frowned after a moment, remembering what she was about to say.

"It used to bearable when my mom was around. I still wasn't the adult, you know? At least then, I had her to take care of me. I just don't, I don't feel as if I can do this alone. Be the provider. The protector. It's all so much," He sat there in silence, urging her to continue and get it all out.

"No matter how bad it got, I would come home and see her, and she'd, She'd hug me, and everything felt alright." Spike looked at her as her voice broke a little. "And I remember smelling her Caress, you know the body wash, And her Sunflowers perfume, and I'd just feel so safe, and the rest of the world would just fall away." She swallowed thickly.

"I don't have that anymore. I miss her, so much." She whispered. Spike sighed.

"Come here." He said softly. She gave him a look of trepidation.

"Come here." He said again, just as softly, but with authority in his voice. He didn't wait for her response, though, and gently tugged her towards him, wrapping his strong arms around her. She gave in, and rested her head in the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"You don't have to be alone, you know," He said into her hair. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and breathed in his scent of whiskey, cigarettes, leather, and something she couldn't quite place. It was a far cry from what her mother smelled like, and yet, She felt comforted all the same. And safe. She felt tears prick at her eyes, for she knew that this too would not last. She batted them away, and stayed in the present.

Spike heard this, tiny sigh come from her as her heart beat slowed. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she had this look of peace. At least he could give her that, for the moment.

A/N: It's two a.m., and I'm not so sure about this chapter, but at the same time, I felt the need to post it asap. I figure I will find out if it sucks or not by the reviews I'll get, or lack there of. Here's hoping to happy reading...

“Well, see how well things worked out?” Buffy looked fondly at Anya and Xander. “And look at you guys. So good and alive and together.” She continued, tearing up again. “So together, and ... good, and ... alive...” she sniffled, grabbing a tissue. “Oh, god...” she cried, dabbing at her eyes. “I'm… I'm just so happy for you...” She burst into tears, burying her face in the tissue as the others continue to stare in silence.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry you—”

“Dear lord. What happened here? Are you all alright? Buffy?” A shocked and worried Giles asked from the doorway. After the scattered explanations and accusations went around, Giles removed his glasses from his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with “bloody hell” muttered from his lips.

“It’s okay, Giles. We’ll clean it all up,” Willow said with a wider than wide smile, Anya standing beside her with a broom looking overly cheerful as well. Giles nodded absently before turning to Buffy.

“Buffy, we need to talk. I’m going to go home,” Have a drink he thought silently. “And then go over to your place. I’ll see you there?”

“Sure Giles. I’ll meet you in about an hour?” He nodded again at the still teary eyed girl, turned and left. Buffy quietly surveyed the mess before her, and sighed heavily. Then her eyes brightened considerably when an idea popped into her head.

“You guys. I should really go. Pull myself together before Giles lays the news on me. You understand.”

“But Buffy, you clearly would be able to move…” Anya looked surveyed the shop with a critical eye. “Large, heavy objects such as the broken, solid wooden shelves of the broken display cases better than any of us.”

“Anya—”

“I would,” she cut Buffy off. “But I’ve got a bad back.” Based on everyone’s look of incredulity, she amended, “Well, I could obtain one through the unnecessary strain.”

“I’m not saying that I’m not going to help, just… not right this second. Important convo with Giles, remember?”

“And really, it is kinda you and Will’s—” Xander stopped on the threatening glare he was receiving from his red headed best friend and his girlfriend. “I mean, the G Man’s insured; no worries Buffy.” He gave the Slayer a nervous smile.

“Then it’s settled. Leave the heavy parts for me tomorrow. Night guys.” Buffy headed out of the shop without a backwards glance. She only made it a block and a half down the street before seeing Spike ahead.

“Slayer!” he called out to her. Buffy rolled her eyes, but continued towards him until they were face to face.

“What?” Buffy queried, regarding him cautiously.

“Glad I was able to catch up with you. What with all the commotion and the—”

“Spike, spill. I have to get home in a timely fashion.”

“Okay.” He gestured for her to proceed forward. Buffy shrugged, but started walking again with him tagging along.

“Multitasking. Very progressive of us.”

“Seems more like stalling to me. You still haven’t told me what you want.”

“I don’t want anything. I just… well, I suppose I do want something.”

“Knew it.”

“No, it’s not what you think—I
want you to know that the other night… I had no intention of showing you that to hurt you.” Buffy scoffed at that. “No, really. I just thought that you should know.” Buffy stopped walking and turned to him.

“You think I really wanted to know of Riley’s not so kosher late night activities?”

“Would you have preferred to stay in the dark? Living a lie?” Buffy turned her head, trying not to pout but failing horribly as she contemplated Spike’s questions. Spike thought she looked quite adorable, particularly with the little ponytails.

“I know soldier boy left y—”

“How did you know that Riley left?” she cut in, turning her gaze sharply on him. “What? Is my love life all over the demon world now? The hot topic and front cover of the Demon World Inquirer or something?” she asked, sounding just this side of hysterical.

“No,” he replied quietly, not looking at her.

“Then how did you…” She squinted at him, partial realization dawning on her.

“Did Riley… he came to see you. What did he say?”

“Pfft. Just typical white bread posturing. Nothing of terrible importance. He was pretty pissed though that I brought you there. ‘S not like it was my fault though. Didn’t force him to go there.”

“Um, okay. But what did he say?” Buffy reiterated, growing impatient. Spike looked thoughtful, pondering how he could word exactly Captain Cardboard’s final words to him.

“Well, first he threatened to kill me. Very convincing, actually,” he said more to himself then to her. Buffy’s brow furrowed in concern.

“Convincing how? I mean if he punched you, it wouldn’t have caused much damage.” Spike pulled out his lighter and cigarettes, lit one up and looked at Buffy, considering her for a moment. He let the cigarette dangle from his mouth as he reached to the top of his pants, pulling his T-shirt out.

“What are you do—”

“Didn’t hit me, Slayer. Staked me.” Buffy stood there, mouth agape in shock as she saw the puncture wound marring the smooth planes of his chest.

“The sadistic bastard was caring a plastic wood-grain stake around. Didn’t kill me, but still hurt like hell. Strange, cause when you did it, it kinda tickled, but that was probably cause of the—”

“Are you okay? He didn’t…” As her hand reached out slowly to the wound, of its own volition he was sure, Spike lowered his shirt before it made contact, feeling self conscious suddenly.

“M’fine. Suppose that was his way of shootin’ the messenger, ya know? We shared a drink after that. He accused me of having some sort of ulterior motive, but really, what would I have to gain?” His voice was laced with false incredulity, hoping she wouldn’t draw the right conclusions about that. “Anyway, I just felt that… as the Slayer, and more importantly, a Slayer that I know and respect…” Realizing by the “what the hell?” expression on her face that he was saying things that he shouldn’t be, he added, “And loathe—” He mentally exhaled as she relaxed at that last bit. “That you should be aware of things that, well, concern you, yea?” Buffy sighed, and started walking again, Spike following.

“You’re right. That was… sensitive information that I should have been aware of. Even if I most certainly didn’t like said information. God, I just can’t believe how totally… screwed up he was. I know he was insecure before, but…” Spike bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting that he was probably always insecure.

“Even so, I didn’t want him to just… leave me.”

“I get that, pet. But you know, it probably wasn’t so much leaving you as it was that the boy was a spineless, gutless fish.”

“What?” She stopped walking again, and Spike sighed. So much for multitasking and arriving in a timely fashion.

“Oh, come now, Summers. Do I have to spell it out for you? He was a coward. You guys were having problems, and he couldn’t bear to face ‘em. So he ran, just like when he was sick and pumped up on Initiative juice or when he was in denial when he discovered his mentor was a homicidal bitch who tried to killl his girl. Can’t face up to his problems, that one. Stupid git.” Buffy pouted some more, neither agreeing or denying with Spike’s assessment.

“Maybe. I still miss him, though.”

“I’m sure that in the back of La Femme Boutique, they have all sorts of gizmos that can take care of your sense of… loss.”
The sincerity in his voice through her for a second before she realized he was referring to the sex store in the mall.

“Oh, gross Spike!” Spike chuckled lightly, grinning at her. They started to walk again.

“A lil’ artificial lovin’ is better than no lovin’ at all. Or at least easier than your—”

“Okay. This conversation is officially over. I accept your apology Spike, and may we never discuss this again. Goodnight,” she said, all the while not looking him as she continued to walk, hoping he wouldn’t follow. He didn’t. He knew there would be other opportunities to make her uncomfortable or piss her off.

“Night Slayer,” he called out to her. “Sweet dreams,” he muttered under his breath, heading in the opposite direction.

In case you didn't read the author's note, the parts following "That Look of Peace" go backwards from that ep- "Intervention," "Blood Ties," "Check Point," etc...

Black Opal


She hesitated at the threshold for a moment, fighting the strong urge within her to flee. Buffy gave two, soft knocks, and opened the crypt door with gentleness and finesse that she was not aware was even possible when it came to dealing with him.

“Spike?” she called out softly in spite of her thumping heart, stepping inside.

“Slayer? What are you… what are you doin’ here in this neck of the woods?” he slurred out. He was leaning by the fridge, looking more bruised and battered than he had the day before, if it was possible.

“I figured… you couldn’t get around and that you, ya know, needed some blood?” She pulled out a blue thermos from the grocery bag in her hand.

“Ninety-eight point six, is it?” He gave her a crooked grin. The commented invoked in her several memories, making her blush. She mentally shook the images away.

“I bought you some Wheatabix for it. For texture, right?”

“Yea,” he said softly, watching her as she walked further into the crypt, heading towards the sarcophagus.

“And some cigarettes, cause I wasn’t sure if you ran out of those. I know how you like to smoke like a chimney. And of course—”

“Buffy,” he called out, making her pause in her ramblings. She placed the bag slowly atop the sarcophagus before turning to him.

“Why are you… What is this?” She picked up the thermos and walked over to him. Unscrewing the cap, she handed it to him.

“I need you well, Spike. You’re the best fighter I have. And I figured if I’m gonna play nursemaid, well… might as well attempt to go the full nine yards, right?” Buffy hoped she didn’t sound nervous. She watched him as he sniffed at the blood, brow crinkled, putting it to his lips slowly.

“It’s fresh. And human. I know it would help you heal all that much faster if—”

“Bloody hell!” he rasped, looking at her in shock. “What did you—”

“I was at the hospital. I know that you need—”

“But this is… Buffy,” he whispered. He felt beyond speechless, already knowing to an extent what she had done. She pulled back her sleeve, showing him the band aid atop a piece of cotton on the juncture of her upper and forearm.

“Human blood works faster than animal blood, and Slayer blood works best of all.” He just looked at her with his one good eye in a cross between awe and confusion. “I… donated some blood, and just swiped it afterwards. It was mine, after all,” she added hastily.

“Right,” he croaked out.

“Right,” she repeated, not looking at him. “I’ll go get that Wheatabix.” She turned away, heading to his sarcophagus. He hobbled after her.

They sat in silence atop the sarcophagus, Spike crumbling the crackers into the blood, sipping it slow as she watched, swinging her legs back and forth, her boots clanking against the stone on each impact.

“I’ll stop by the butcher’s tomorrow. Bring you some more.”

“Ok,” he said softly after a huge gulp.

“Spike?” His head shot up, looking at her intently.

“Yea, luv?”

“Why do you… why do you even care?”

“Besides the fact I care for the Nibblet and Joyce? Sorry, by the way. I didn’t get the chance to—”

“I know. Willow told me you stopped by.”

“Oh. Well… you know why, Slayer.”

“Yeah, but how? I mean, once upon a time, you hated me.”

“Things change. And I never hated hated you. You were my opponent. ‘S nothin’ personal.”

“Nothing personal?” she asked sardonically.

“I never brought the fight to your family and your mates, did I? ‘S not like I didn’t know where you lived—I made it my business to know all there was to know about you. But at home, you aren’t the Slayer. I didn’t have any interest in fighting some girl worried ‘bout her mum and bratty kid sis.” Buffy tried not to think about how that was the exact opposite of what Angelus had done. “And yea, it pissed me off when you consistently foiled my plans…”

“But… how is love possible? After everything that we’ve…”

“What can I say, Summers? My love is blind. It doesn’t care what you are or what I am. It just is.”

“Just is,” she muttered softly. “Oh.” She reached into the bag, pulling out a plastic bottle and some cotton balls.

“Is that—”

“That chipped, black polish has been bugging me for ages. You should really stop using it. Your hands look better without it. I mean, they should be used for playing the piano, or strumming a guitar, fighting…” she said in a light conversational tone, pouring the polish remover onto a cotton ball, grasping one of his hands. “Or back massages.” She as an afterthought, pausing when she realized she had said it aloud. She began scrubbing furiously around his cuticles after that.

“You just… shouldn’t use it in my opinion.” He turned his head, hiding a smile from her.

“Yea, alright.”

“And all that black and the—”

“Hey now. The clothes and the hair are staying.”

Shortly after she left, Spike limped (an improvement from his former hobbling) over to his counter, reaching down and grasping the little black bottle in his warmed hand—warmed from her blood and her body heat as she held it within her own, scrubbing off the polish.

He looked at the little bottle of Black Opal, shaking his head as he tossed it into the trash with a sigh.

“Made a promise to a lady, didn’t I?”

*******

Covert Sincerity



“Dawn! Dawn!” Buffy yelled out into the night.

“Yeah, that should do it,” Spike said with subtle sarcasm.

“Shut up.”

“The nibblet scampered off to get away from you. She hears you bellowing, she’s gonna pack it in the opposite direction.” They both stop walking as Spike looks around. “Can’t say I blame her.”

“You were right,” Buffy said quietly, staring at the ground. Surprise is written all over Spike’s face at the admission. “This is my fault. I should’ve told her.” Spike sighed at that, feeling guilty for god knows why. He just knew that he had to comfort her somehow.

“Look, she probably would have skipped off anyway, even if she never found out. She’s not just a blob of energy, she’s also a fourteen year old hormone bomb.” He paused again, exhaling another sigh. “Which one’s screwing her up more right now, spin the bloody wheel. You’ll find her, just in the nick of time. That’s what you hero types do,” he finished with a shrug. Buffy gave him a hopeful look, wanting to believe him.

“You’ll find her,” he reiterated firmly.

“And then what?” she asked quietly. Spike was silent for a moment, mulling over his answer.

“And then… and then you say—” He placed his hands on her shoulders, gripping them with a firm gentleness. “Hey now— chin up, yea? Everything will be okay. No matter what you are, I still love you. I’ll always love you. Nothing’s changed.” His voice gradually lowered and became thick with emotion as he went on. He slowly embraced her in a hug, and folded into his arms.

“We’ll make it through this,” he continued softly. “I’ll be right here, right beside you.” He secretly inhaled her delicate scent of lilacs and vanilla. He collected himself, and pulled away before she noticed something.

“See? Easy.” He cringed inwardly at the slight tremble in his voice. Buffy tilted her head to the side, looking down at the ground, though he was fairly certain she wasn’t seeing it.

“Wow. You should be a writer or something,” she said reflectively. Spike bit his tongue at that.

“Just be honest, love. Tell it from your ticker, and so forth.”

“Yeah. I suppose I could. It’s true after all.” She continued walk, still contemplating what she would say to placate her little sister.

“Bloody well is true,” he mumbled to himself before catching back up to her. He walked on her right side, being her silent pillar of strength.

*****

A Core of Mush


Spike, Joyce and Dawn turned simultaneously from the telly as his crypt door opened.

“That didn’t take too long,” Spike said, looking at her.

“How’d it go, sweetie?” Buffy sighed as she looked at her mom, closing the door.

“A little nerve wracking…” She paused, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Glory was a god. “But, I managed to get the Council to agree to my terms, and Giles reinstated as my Watcher.”

“Retroactively?” Spike asked.

“Of course.”

“Good goin’, Slayer.” Buffy walked towards the sarcophagus, motioning Spike to follow her as her mom and Dawn began to pack up their things.

“Thanks,” she said, handing him a couple of bills.

“Keep your money. It was my pleasure to play host to the Summers ladies. My door’s always open. Of course, if it wasn’t, they always have you to kick it down, don’t they?” he said with an arch of his eyebrow. Buffy looked sheepish at that. She avoided looking at him for a second as she put the money back in her pocket. Spike took pity on her.

“If you feel really bad about it, next time, just bring me some alcohol, or some of those spicy buffalo wings that I like so much, or something equally delicious,” he said, sotto voce, slightly leaning in.

“Spike you’re such a—”

“Pig. Yeah, I know. Not like you expected anything more of me, right?” he said with a casual shrug. Buffy’s upper lip quirked slightly upward, but she suppressed the smile that was threatening to show itself. She turned, and headed back towards her family.

“Ready guys?”

“Yeah. Spike and mom were boring me to tears, and he doesn’t have any cable.” Dawn hefted her bag on her shoulder, standing by the door impatiently. “And, I didn’t realize how much of a softy he was,” she said with an impish grin, looking at him.

“Oi! Big bad over—”

“Whatever. All you did was talk to mom about soaps, the art gallery and how much you were craving her hot cocoa. Way lame,” she sing songed.

“Okay, Bit. My hospitality has officially run out. Time for you lot to bugger off.” He stalked over to the door, holding it open.

“Aww… Dawn’s ruined Spike’s manly pride. Come on, mom. Let’s let him wallow.” Buffy walked to the doorway, all the while grinning at the only slightly irritated vamp.

“Ignore the girls, Spike. Thank you for having us. Come over any time for that cocoa,” Joyce said with a smile before stepping over the threshold into the night, followed by Dawn and then Buffy. Buffy stopped once she was one foot out of the crypt and turned to face him.

“Spike, um… I just wanted, wanted to say—”

“ ‘Thank you?’” he supplied for her. She nodded gratefully.

“Yes. Thank you.” With that, she turned and left. Spike stood by the door, watching as the Summers’ women made their way through the cemetery, closing his door softly once they were out of sight.

“Big, soft gooey center,” Spike mumbled with disdain. “How’s that for you? Whipped without getting any.” Spike headed to his counter to get a drink, thinking of what to get the Slayer for her birthday.

“I have known you for quite some time,
And the thought of love never crossed my mind.
It seemed to be on the other side of the world…”

~Luther Vandross


The tears came rushing forth as unbidden thoughts entered her mind—her mom going to the hospital; her mom needing surgery; her mom getting worse…

She put her face in her hands, slowly dragging her fingers upward and through her hair in distress. She felt incredibly lost, and her fears were beginning to consume her. The sound of a gun cocking broke her from her thoughts. Though she was annoyed it was Spike, she was near elated for the distraction.

“What do you want now?” she asked in agitation, staring at Spike as he looked at her coldly before looking a bit confused.

He gripped the shot gun tightly and asked her, “What’s wrong?” Her overt pain, conversely, drove him to distraction. Buffy turned her head away from him at the question.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Spike tilted his head in thought, lowering his gun. His concern for her well being eclipsed his desire for revenge.

He hesitated for a moment, and then asked earnestly, “Is there something I can do?” Buffy slowly turned her head towards him again, though still not looking at him. Spike could tell by the expression on her face that she was deeply confused by the fact that it was he who was asking, or perhaps she was merely unsure of the answer. But she said nothing.

Spike, all the while keeping his eyes on her, sat down beside the Slayer on the stairs, laying the shot gun at his side. In an awkward tentativeness, he patted her on the back in an attempt to comfort her. She swallowed a bit, feeling her tears recede, and let him.

After a moment, Spike pulled his hand back, clasping it with the other in front of him as he sat next to the silent Slayer, both staring at the night sky and the smattering of stars that glistened in it.

“It’s… it’s my mom.” Spike’s head snapped up to look at her.

“Joyce? What’s wrong?”

“She um…” Buffy paused, wiping at her eyes. “She’s been having a few problems—fainting spells and… she’s going to stay overnight at the hospital.”

“Oh… But you don’t know anything for sure?” Buffy shook her head, sniffling slightly.

“Well, that’s kind of a good thing, isn’t it?”

“What?” Spike could see the anger start to build within her, and began to quickly explain.

“Hold on now, luv. I just meant that you’re getting yourself all worked up, and you’re not even sure what the problem is—if there’s even a problem to begin with. Your mum’s a strong lady. One of the toughest birds I’ve ever come across, in fact, and that’s saying something.”

“Spike, I just—”

“Just sayin’, don’t get panicked until you know for sure there’s something to be panicked about. And if there is a problem, at least you have a head start on it, yea?” Buffy exhaled, sadness still evident in her eyes, but she began to look a bit more at ease.

“I guess you’re right. Better to know now than…” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to keep her emotions in check.

“Come now, Slayer. You’ve gotta hold it together—at least around her. I’m sure she doesn’t want you to worry, and seein’ evidence of it won’t help matters. I’m not…not sayin’ that it’s wrong to cry. In fact it’s good; let it all out. Just try not to do it where Joyce can see it, yea?”

“Then when’s a good time?”

“You can now if you want. I won’t tell.” Buffy eyed him suspiciously.

“Why?” Spike sighed, tucking some of her mussed hair behind her ear.

“Cause, I know what it’s like. My mum was sickly. And bottling it up like that… it’ll lead to no place good. End up breaking down at a most inconvenient time, I’m sure. And what’ll Joyce do then if you get hurt?” he asked her softly.

“I don’t… I don’t want my mom to worry,” she confessed, her eyes watering again. “I just want everything to be alright.” She put her hand to her mouth as she began to cry again. She didn’t resist when Spike pulled her slightly shaking form towards him, wrapping his arm around him. He stroked her hair softly and remained silent as she cried it all out.

Buffy realized that it felt good to not be the strong one, at least, for a little while…

~~~~~

I can’t stop thinking about you… I love you…

I know that you’ll never love me. I know that I’m a monster. But you treat me like a man…

Buffy heard his words again in her head as she began to change her clothes for the final fight. Her mind’s eye flashed on his face, and his bruised and battered body after being tortured by Glory, and his genuine smile and laughter as her mom told him one of work stories. She thought about how he was going to risk his life tonight for her and Dawn, expecting nothing in return.

Buffy audibly exhaled, and made a decision…

~~~~~

“Spike!”

Spike put down the two battle axes he grabbed on top of the weapons chest.

“Slayer?” he called out to her, heading swiftly up the stairs.

“Everything alright?” he asked, approaching her room slowly, listening intently to her rapid heart beat. He pushed the slightly ajar door open all the way, and saw her standing in the middle of the darkened room, the light from the hallway illuminating her form. Her bare back was to him, and Spike could plainly see that all she had on was a pair of powder blue panties, holding a shirt up to her chest. He turned his head away from the stimulating sight, feeling beyond intrusive.

“Sorry luv. Thought you called me,” he apologized, heading back out of the door.

“I did.” Her soft voice stopped him. “Come in, Spike.” It was the second time she had said those words to him that night. Not the three words he had dreamed and fantasized her saying, but three meaningful words all the same.

He swallowed, and took two steps into her room, leaving the door open. She kept her back to him as she began to speak.

“When I said we all weren’t gonna make it, I meant me too. Before, with all of the other apocalypses, I was certain I would win—I knew it. But now, I… I’m not sure of anything, or what’s going to happen… We might lose, and tomorrow won’t be here.”

“Buffy, you can’t think that—”

“No, Spike. I’m not saying we’re going to lose, just that I’m not sure we’re going to win; that we’re all going to be here when it’s all over.” She turned towards him, still holding the shirt to her chest, and looked at him—really looked at him.

“I wish I had known what would happen to my mom; even if I couldn’t stop it. At least then, I could’ve been home with her, instead of going to some stupid party, or chasing some robot around town. I should’ve been there, instead of taking her for granted, thinking that she would always be here with me. I realize now that… I can’t just say ‘well, there’s always tomorrow.’ There’s no guarantee that time’s on our side. I have to live for today. I can’t brush things off or be fearful, or… I have to make use of all the time that I have.” Though her tone was soft, he could hear the determination in her words.

“What does that mean?” Spike asked, hope, awe, and a bit of fear coloring his voice.

“It means, I’ve seen you change. We don’t have a lot of time, but we might not have tomorrow, so…” she trailed off, keeping her gaze upon him, waiting for him to… something. Several second passed by, and she gripped the shirt a bit tighter to her before averting her eyes from his, feeling embarrassed.

“Well, okay then.” His voice was low, and seemed unsure, though he stepped closer to her. He raised his hand over her bare shoulder, stilling it, hovering, feeling her heat radiate off of her skin.

“You sure, Summers?” They simultaneously looked at each other. She slowly lowered the sweater, and then dropped it to the floor. Spike’s eyes widened, though he didn’t look down. He couldn’t look away from her hazel orbs, so full of tenderness for him. He found them more interesting then the round, pert globes on her chest.

She placed both of her hands on the sides of his face, pulling him closer to her. Though his lips were slightly parted, they somehow managed to keep their kiss innocent.

His lips were soft and full, and Buffy couldn’t help but think that she had missed those lips of Spike’s.

“I’m sure. We don’t have much time, but I want you. Make love to me, Spike.”

“Can’t insult the lady by denying her in her own home, can I?” And with that, he kissed her with abandon, his passion filtering through with every caress of his tongue upon hers, eventually making Buffy breathless and weak with desire.

Though their coupling was brief, it was languid and beyond thorough. Buffy wasn’t sure if she had ever felt so physically satiated in her life.

“Well, that was a helluva way to relieve some of that pre-apocalypse tension,” he drawled, rolling off of her. Buffy wasn’t sure what to make of his post coitus statement. Not that they had time to enjoy the after glow or anything, but…

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling her to him, kissing her briefly on the lips. He glanced at her from beneath his long, dark lashes. “Thank you for tonight. You have no idea how much… I meant it when I told you I loved you, Buffy.”

Buffy leaned over and kissed him, though she lingered a moment before pulling back.

“I know, Spike. I know,” she said earnestly, causing him to smile. She smiled back at him, caressed his face, and then got off of the bed, pulling on her clothes.

“Guess it’s time to go save the world, then?” he asked, getting up as well.

“Yup.”

“Slayer.” She stopped her movements, watching him intently.

“I promise you… you’re coming out of this alright, got it?” She nodded at him, her face suddenly grim.

Of course, Spike was wrong.

Buffy was able to hold Glory off, and yet, she didn’t make it to Dawn in the nick of time. Instead, she sacrificed herself for her sister, and the world.

Spike was consumed by grief, drowning in guilt and sorrow for one hundred forty-seven days. He didn’t think he would ever feel whole again…