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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hmmm, guess it's holidays and school and stuff. Sigh. Anyway, hope you all like this one.
Buffy woke with her face wet and securely held against the comfort of squeaky leather. Memories were a flood in her mind as she remembered back, getting pulled further into her past to a time where stress made her see her vampire in a new light. And had finally completely let him into her heart.

She couldn’t be strong about this. There was no strength left in her body to sustain more loss, and in reaction to that she refused to accept the appearance of this. This miracle. This answer to her greatest unspoken wish.

Buffy scrunched her eyes closed, feeling the whirl in her gut as the thing that held her shifted on her bed. A masculine clearing of the throat and her lips trembled. It was too close, too real and she just couldn’t take it anymore. That ounce of control she had fought for since waking snapped and Buffy found herself once again shuddering against the doom of her life, and the cruelty of this tempted bliss.

It was no secret she was awake. She couldn’t have pretended if she wanted to—not with the way her body betrayed her with every traumatic breath. Still, Buffy held on and waited, needed to keep within her arms the presence she just knew would disappear as soon as she opened her eyes. This weakness was so wrong, went so far against the grain of who she was, but Buffy recognised within a blink of a second that it wouldn’t have mattered how strong she was. This moment with the spectre of Spike would strip the confidence from anyone desperate to regain the love they’d lost.

Still, this was more real than she’d ever experienced since losing him at the Hellmouth. Maybe this was her chance to make him believe in her, to say goodbye properly so that one day she could actually find peace. Finally find rest.

“Before I died, you told me that you knew I would never love you, but that I made you feel like a man. I think you were always a man, and before you died, you made me feel like a strong and powerful woman. But you had it wrong. I would love you. I did love you, and I do love you. So much now even though I know it’s too late. I dream about you every night and wonder what I could have done, how I could have dragged you out of there to be with me. But I lost you and you died not believing that I could be telling you the truth. I know how much it hurts now, Spike. That one hundred and forty seven days you were without me? It hurts so much.”

And the floodgates slammed open with the gush of relief at finally getting it out. If he disappeared now it would be okay. She wouldn’t be bouncing around the world all ‘Happy Girl’, but she could survive. Could at least get out of this hotel and run as far from Angel as she could get.

She was used to the silence. Even though the arms still held her, still comforted her while she wept, she expected silence.

She should have expected the opposite. This was Spike after all—the one to break the boundaries of expectation and achieve the superior. Silence was like a challenge to Spike and it just had to be broken.

“I’m so sorry, Buffy. I didn’t know.”

Buffy stopped immediately she heard the voice, felt the movement beneath her as his diaphragm inflated and he released words. Real words. Words that she could hear and that soothed her.

The wondrous experience of running her fingers over the body under her face changed the view, and something she’d felt was a dream now seemed to be a scary reality. An abrupt push and Buffy hefted herself away from him, shock and hope making everything inside seize in anticipation.

And there he was. Peroxided hair a little rough with the curls that respite had released. Piercing blue eyes that had always seen too much, unless it was the thing he most needed to. The monochrome colour scheme of his chosen wardrobe and finally the soft smile on those lips she knew so intimately. The smile he’d given her that night she’d thought she was close to losing everything. How wrong she’d been—the things she’d considered the most important had suffered a massive shift since then, and with it brought the startling understanding that the one she’d valued most had perished in the final battle. Her rock had crumbled and buried itself in the rubble of the Hellmouth with the dust of those too unworthy to share his resting place.

“Spike? Are you real?”

After a short blink and a smile, there were Spike lips. ‘Mmmmm, lips of Spike’ and Buffy knew she’d finally lost her sanity or Angel had killed her and she was drifting on a slow wave to Heaven.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he murmured into her mouth and Buffy didn’t care. So what if no one told her. She didn’t care that she’d missed the before, as long as the now was hard and undead. She’d hear the reasons later, stew over the excuses later when her future was for once on solid ground.

Feeling his touch was all she needed for now.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

For the life of him, Spike couldn’t work out what the repulsive git Buffy had been dating could possibly have done to bring her so low. And why it would have brought her into the presence of the brooding survivor of their little homegrown backyard apocalypse.

Or why he was back.

Not that it seemed to matter, not with Buffy finally in his arms and the chance to hold her the way he’d craved for the whole of last year. Even while telling himself he didn’t love her as much as he’d always thought, he’d felt too bereft to fully believe it.

Not even he’d hurt Buffy this much. Not when he’d almost…and then run off to get himself a soul. To be the kind of man that Buffy should be around. Now she was in his arms, and she was beautiful. And he still wasn’t good enough.

He’d felt in his bones when she was awake. Her body shook against him as she struggled with emotions too big for her tiny frame. Sure, she’d gained back a few pounds the last few years had stolen from her, but she was still tiny—and unfortunately perfect for him.

He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable with the enormity of everything. He was back from the dead…again, and this time with a broken Buffy as his greeter. And she was trembling in his arms, crying as she clutched at his leather.

And then there she was, speaking his wildest dreams into his chest and making him choke on excited hope. As soon as the L word passed her lips, he felt like squeezing her hard. It was too much and yet he could hear the pain in her voice, and it was connected to him.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have believed she wouldn’t want to know he survived? How did he become so gutless? He could only put it down to being in his poofy-haired grandesire’s presence too long. That grief for missing her needlessly all the previous year knocked him sideways and he could do nothing to make it better.

“I’m so sorry, Buffy. I didn’t know.”

As much as he wanted to watch her face, see every emotion he’d missed since his first dusting, he was surprised at the abruptness she pushed away from him and fixed her eyes on his features. Wondrous jade swept over his face, lingering on his hair, his eyes and his clothes and he felt an absurd pride that she desperately wanted to see him as he was.

And then she stopped at his lips, and though words pressed into the space between them, it was all he could do to hold back the two seconds it took for her to speak. And then he was kissing her. He couldn’t have stopped himself now, not when she seemed so happy to be in his arms. Not when she succumbed so softly and he nearly cried at all the beauty beheld in that moment.

He couldn’t pull his hands away from her soft form, even though he knew this was not the way they’d parted. That the calloused rub of his palms over the flesh he was revealing was way beyond where they’d left things off. She was like a drug. Her acceptance tipped him over the edge and he was returned high on love. Buffy would always possess his heart and if she asked him to stop, he would. But so far, she hadn’t made a move to knock back his touch.

He groaned in agony when she pulled away, taking small comfort that she kept her hands on him, held onto the reality of him so tight that he was convinced he would indeed fade away if she ever let him go.

Spike blinked at the intensity of how she watched him, of how she searched deeply his eyes for the marker that would guide them through.

“Do you believe me now? Will you give me the chance to show you the truth?” A salty tear slid down her cheek. Mesmerised, Spike lifted an unsteady hand to swipe it away with his thumb, his palm cupping her face when he found once he touched he couldn’t let go.

“I want to, pet. But what about the bloody Immortal wanker? Wouldn’t he be a bit pissed off with me stealing his girl?” Spike jumped when she snorted and felt something icy cold slip through his veins when she rolled her eyes. It was so normal, so back to real everyday Buffy that he didn’t know if he’d stepped back in time or into a world where the last hour hadn’t really happened.

“You have so got to be kidding me. As if I would be with a jackass that talks about himself day and night. Only way to shut him up was to take him dancing, and even then it was a close call. Besides, don’t think he’ll be doing much complaining with his head all tucked away in Giles’s bowling bag.” Buffy threw her arms around Spike’s neck and hummed happily against his throat.

“Giles bowls?” It was all he could think of to say, and he knew it was wholly inadequate for the situation, but the concept was too shocking that Buffy hadn’t been in love with the Immortal pain in his rear. That he’d guessed wrong at her happiness and left her alone. All the better to wallow in his own inadequacies.

“If that was your way of asking if I was WITH Morty, then no, Giles doesn’t bowl.” She leaned back, taking Spike’s hand in hers and hoping this would be the last of the confusion. “I don’t know how you could believe it. I didn’t sleep with him. I pretended to date him so I could get close enough to kill him, and every second I was with him I was wishing I still had you.” Her eyes focused intently on suddenly shimmering crystal blue and she smiled a watery smile. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.” She looked strained, about to burst into more tears. “Please,” she added as an afterthought.

His answer was to slowly pull her back to his mouth. “Yes,” he whispered huskily before taking her promise and adding onto it with his own.

And in the background they heard an explosion of voices, arguing and screaming insults and explanations.

The blondes pulled reluctantly away from each other and their eyes met in surprised synchronised agreement.

“Scoobies.”





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