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Author's Chapter Notes:
The title comes from a Switchfoot song of the same name. I thought of Buffy & Spike when I heard it. Please review:)
Buffy didn't move. She didn't even dare to breathe. Somehow, time had folded in on itself, and she was back inside the Hellmouth, looking into those incredible blue eyes. Buffy had seen his eyebrow quirk, ever so slightly, and his mouth form the small little smirk, that always told her that he knew she was lying, but he wouldn't ruin the game. The game was too much fun to quit now. He looked at her with all the hope and all the pain that could ever be on one man's face, and rasped out, as if saying it louder would wreck the beautiful dream he had constructed for himself, "No, you don't. But, thanks for saying it."

"No," she had wanted to scream, "This time I mean it! I really, really, mean it this time. This isn't a game!" Instead, she kept silent and let him push her away. Buffy had raced along crumbling rooftops, the memory of his eyes urging her to go faster, and faster. Pushing her, until she was standing, safely at the crater's edge, watching that stupid,"Welcome to Sunnydale" sign teeter, and topple over for the last time.

She'd smiled because she knew he'd been the one to push it over. Of course he would. No one else had the right to do that.

"Buffy," his voice was grinning, "Now, I don't need to, being dead and all, but, the last time I checked, humans, like you, my beautiful, beautiful, Slayer, need to breathe. Can you do that for me?"

"Uh huh," she sighed.

"Good. Now, are your legs all right?"

"Yeah."

"Then," his eyes were shining, "I need you to come towards me a bit, and to your left."

Buffy shook her head, a little confused, "What? Why?"

"Because, Goldilocks, if your blood pressure continues to drop, like it has for the last ninety seconds, you're gonna faint. And, I don't want you to hurt that pretty little noggin of yours on the concrete. Also, although, normally, I'd say, 'Have at it,' right now, I can't catch you, so, I don't want you to fall on top of me."

"Oh," she said, as she slowly made her legs do as he instructed, "Thanks," she said, and promptly fell to her knees.
**********

Buffy stirred a little, the memory of the pleasant dream still in her mind. She reached out behind her with the fingers of one hand, and found Spike's still form, next to her on the blanket. At least that part wasn't a dream, she thought.

Lying next to Buffy, Spike was enjoying the little pinpoints of fire that broke out on his skin where she was touching him, " Hello, Buffy," he cooed, "Do you think you can get up now? I think the candles have gotten a bit low. Even though I am loathe to ask you to ever leave my side, I think perhaps it would be best if they were snuffed out."

Squinting in confusion, Buffy rolled toward Spike. Her plan must have started to work, because even though his face was still very burned, now, at least, she could see his cheekbones starting to redefine themselves. The skin that had grown in was kind of a pinkish color, like a newborn baby's, and that gave Spike a very lifelike appearance. She propped herself up on her elbow, first looking at the candles, which were, in fact getting low, then at him, "How did you know the candles were.... Oh," she said.

Spike blinked, and Buffy noticed the skin that had started to grow where his eyebrows would eventually be, shifted upward, ever so slightly, he smiled at her, "Eyes like a hawk, Slayer," there was a ghost of the mischievous smirk on his lips, "All the better to see you with."

Buffy balked, "Spike, can you see me?"

Spike's tone was teasing, but joyful, "Is there someone you'd rather I look at, Slayer?"

"No," Buffy squeaked, excitedly, "Absolutely not."

"That works out nicely then," Spike chuckled, "Because I am not taking my eyes off of your beautiful face for the next fifty years, no matter what you say. So, you had best just clear that jam packed social calendar of yours, all right?"

Buffy closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning again. She just couldn't believe how blessed she was. Her dreams, all of them, were coming true. Some, not as fast as she would have liked; but they were still coming true. The one that she never thought she'd ever see again, the one who's eyes were the truest things in the entire world, was looking at her with so much love, that when she finally opened her eyes again, and Spike was still looking at her, patiently waiting for her to speak, Buffy couldn't help but giggle.

That sound, that tiny, little sound, hit Spike's ears like a thousand cathedral bells, ringing all at once. That sound shot straight to his heart, and, if he did not know better, he would have sworn that it had started beating again. He watched, happily, as Buffy's little button nose crinkled up, and the sound escaped again.

Buffy's fingers ached to touch him. She bit her lip, unsure, afraid she might hurt him, "Can I...?" she asked.

"Please," Spike breathed, eyes closed in anticipation.

"It won't hurt?" Buffy asked.

Spike's voice was a breathless whisper, "No. Buffy, please, I don't want to sound like a silly schoolboy with a crush on the Homecoming queen, but, please kiss me?"

Buffy leaned over Spike, and tenderly touched her lips to his mouth. The skin that should have felt leather-like, because of the trauma to his face, instead felt as soft as rose petals. It had been so long since she had kissed him, in anything other than a dream, that just having him this close, this real, made her head spin.

Her fingers began to dance around the skin of his face. She could feel her fingers sink down in to explore the arch of his cheekbones. Buffy then became bolder and her fingertips touched the soft curves of his eyelids, sliding down to discover the baby fine wisps that were his eyelashes. Her heart leapt with joy, knowing that behind the safe protection of those eyelids, were the eyes of her soul mate. Eyes that would, always, and forever, love her. Eyes that had once, and now could again, see her, down to her very soul. Spike had seen her at her best, he'd seen her at her worst, and he never flinched, never looked away, and he, honestly loved her al the more for her faults, and in spite of them, than she had ever thought it was possible to be loved.

Spike was trying hard to remain grounded, remain focused on Buffy. He focused on the streaks of flame her fingertips left on his face. She was so warm, and soft, and giving, that Spike almost had to pinch himself to remind himself that it wasn't a dream. Except, he couldn't pinch himself, so he just let the warmth of a touch he'd been so long without, glide over his face and eyes, and seep into his bones, warming him from the inside out. He felt his heart swell in his chest, and knew, that if Buffy hadn't been there to tether him down, he felt certain he would float right to the ceiling, and he wasn't sure he would have been able to stop there, if she didn't stop kissing him, right now, he would float out into the stratosphere, and never come back down. Oh, God, Buffy, please don't stop! Don't ever stop! I love you! God, Buffy, I love you so!

Just then, they heard a polite cough coming from the archway, "I hate to break up the lovebirds," Xander said, "But Angel's own the phone. He says it's important."

As Buffy's lips left his, Spike almost whimpered from the loss, "Harris," he growled, "Anyone ever tell you you're a Hell of a buzz kill, mate?"
***************

As Drusilla walked the quiet cobblestone streets of Prague, she remembered how loving William had been during those long nights when all she could see was the pain; the pain was so bright that it hurt her eyes. She knew that her bright boy was in pain now, and needed her, soon.

She had to be certain everything was ready.





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