Her fingers skimmed his pale face, tracing an invisible line down the sharp angle of his cheekbones. For once in... how many months?... he was actually real under her touch, unlike the fading image of her dreams.

“I thought... I never...” Buffy couldn’t find the words to express what she felt at that moment. She wasn’t ever supposed to see him again; he died, and she’d been a witness--well, almost. Beautiful angelic light pouring from him, saviour that he’d become. His life had been his sacrifice to the world,and now here he was, pulled from eternal rest just as she’d been so long ago.

He didn’t even try to stop the flow of tears that came forth at his love’s touch. Truly, he hadn’t expected her to come. Not for him. Angel--poofter--had assured him that she’d gone on living, and that he should let her be, let her live her life as normally as she could. A normal life wasn’t possible with a vampire hanging off you, now was it?

“It’s alright, love. You don’t need to say anything.”

They were both kneeling on the floor of Angel’s vast office, where they‘d fallen, facing each other, their fingertips lightly brushing each other’s features. It was almost as if they were afraid the other would disappear if they closed their eyes, or tried to touch too harshly. What they wanted, what they needed, was to reach out and grab each other, make sure that they were indeed both real, both actually present and not a figment of each other’s imagination, as they’d been so often since that day.

Spike realized at that moment that she’d told him the truth, that she did love him. They hadn’t been some feel good last-minute words to ease her own pain and guilt. She’d finally opened her heart to him and he realized, kneeling on his grandsire’s hardwood floor, that his own last words must have cut her deep.

His voice merely a roughened whisper, he took her hands in his--both shaking. “I know, now, that you were telling me the truth. I... I didn’t believe it--I couldn’t let myself believe it, or I might not have been able to go through with it.” He sniffled, blinking away the tears, aware on some level that he was putting on a hell of a show for those who were also in the office. Like he cared what everyone thought anyway, bunch of blighters just standing around watching the former Big Bad crying...

That’s all it took for Buffy to finally break down, choking sobs, back convulsing with every whimper. Her makeup was smeared, her hair a mess, her nose running, but all that mattered to her was that Spike believed her. All those months of self-bashing, where she ran through those fateful last moments over and over again in her mind, trying to find out where she’d gone wrong, realizing that she’d erred long before then when it came to the love-struck vampire--those awful thoughts were all but gone from her conscience. He still loved her. And she loved him.

Harmony was the first to break the silence. “Ugh. I’m going to go and file some... paper thingies before I toss my breakfast.” Light blue dress flapping behind her, she stormed out of the office in a huff. Whatever it was that her blondie bear saw in that vile Slayer, she’d never understand.

This outbreak seemed to snap everyone out of their daze. Fred, more than a little embarrassed at having witnessed the two blondes’ emotionally-charged reunion--they should have had the time to themselves, really--pulled herself up off of the leather couch. “Um, I also have some things that I need to do. In the lab. Research things that are... in need of research.” She slowed down as she passed by the two figures crouched on the floor and felt the need to say something, anything. She bit her lip, trying to find something fitting. Not coming up with anything particularly inspiring, she settled with a quick “I’m really happy for you, both of you--you both deserve to be happy” before running off, shaking her head at her lack of wordiness, for once.

Gunn soon followed--mumbling something about white rooms and big cats, the meaning of which Buffy had no clue.

That left one other in the room--Angel.

He was torn inside at seeing his former love and the thorn in his side together--obviously more than happy to have once again found one another. His own love was in a coma--not that he could ever love her properly, not without the help of a particular prophecy. Yet here was Spike, only recently ensouled--not that that seemed to have affected him much, not like it had Angel--and he got the girl. Without any pesky curses, to boot.

This made Angel mad. It just wasn’t fair! Where was Spike’s century-long torture? Where was his white-hat track record? He’d only been helping the Scoobies for a few years--and that was only to get into some certain Slayer’s pants.

But Spike fought his demon on his own, a small voice (rarely listened to, when it came to Spike) whispered. He’d always had that spark of humanity that Angelus despised. And to top that off, he went and got the soul on his own--of his own volition! Oh, and there’s the whole ‘sacrificed himself for the world’ bit a few months ago...

Argh! Shut up! Angel knew that the little voice was right, but it didn’t change how he felt about the younger vampire. Century-old loathing doesn’t disappear in a matter of months. Soul or not, sacrifice be damned. In his eyes, Spike is still the schemer, still looking out for number one. Maybe the fact that he doesn’t hide it is what rubs Angel the wrong way...

The older vampire stood up and made his way to the liquor cabinet. He sighed as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, a bit fuller than the usual numbing dosage. When he turned back to the two blondes, he saw that they had gotten up off the floor and were now in a tight embrace, Buffy’s head nestled against Spike’s chest, the vampire‘s hands drawing circles on her back.

He downed the whiskey in one long gulp before pouring himself another glassful. He was going to need it...

The sound of Spike’s voice, quiet, awe-struck, loving, drew Angel’s attention to the two lovebirds.

“You must be tired, love. Why don’t we have Peaches here find you a nice room so you can get some sleep?” The last thing the bleached vampire wanted to do was let the Slayer out of his sight. After these past months, after everything he’d been through--being a not-quite-ghost, feeling himself being sucked into Hell--he wanted to hold her in his arms until he passed out of exhaustion. But her needs, those of a mortal, were high above his own selfish desires.

Now that she was finally in his arms, there was no way Buffy was letting herself get separated from her vampire lover. “Why don’t we just go to your place? I’m sure there’s enough room there for me, too.”

He didn’t bring it up, she did. And Spike was just going to stand back and watch. “Don’t have one, pet.”

Snuh? Buffy’s head pulled back from his chest and she looked up at him, puzzled. “What do you mean you don’t have a place? Where do you sleep?” She turned her attention to Angel who, all of a sudden, seemed very interested in the decorative banding on his antique liquor cabinet.

“Depends. Sometimes on Peaches’ sofa here, sometimes in a chair, but it...”

“Wait outside.”

The tone in Buffy’s voice clearly stated that there was no arguing with her. And he wouldn’t, not in a million years, if it meant finally having a place that was his. Something that everyone else in the gang aside from him had, and he knew it was to remind him of his place. Or lack thereof, as far as Angel was concerned. He was the despised outsider, the burden that Peaches had been weighed down with, and he was to be constantly reminded of it.

He didn’t ask to be pulled from the ‘great hereafter’--or wherever it was that he’d been for those few months. It may not have been heaven, but it was better than the Hell on Earth he was living through at Wolfram & Hart. He wasn’t tethered to the building, he could easily live elsewhere--get out of the Poof’s way, but he had no means of doing it. It wasn’t like he was actually earning a salary and could just go out and rent some stupid apartment.

As the bleached blonde closed the door, he fought the urge to stay close and listen to what was going to be said, but he walked away, for Buffy’s sake. Maybe Fred wouldn’t mind a bit of company for a while...

“How dare you!”

“Buffy, listen...”

“No--you listen! How dare you treat him worse than the shit that you scrape off your boots! He died to save the world--doesn’t that mean anything to you? Or are you still stuck in the ‘Spike’s evil and this is all part of his devious plan’ frame of mind?” When all she got was a guilty look, the young woman threw her hands up in the air. “I can’t believe it! At what point are you going to put an end to your personal pity party and take a good look at what’s going on around you?! Spike’s worked hard at becoming a better man--he wasn’t cursed with it, he goddamned went out and thrust it upon himself. What’s past is passed--what counts now, Angel, is the present. And you’d better join us here in the present, cause you’re missing something big.”

God, he still loved her. Not like he used to, no--he loved Cordy with all his heart. But watching her with her flushed skin, her wild eyes, her heaving chest... he’d never forget what it was about her that made him love her so. “Buffy... Please look at it from my point of view. Here you have someone--someone I hate with all my being--who’s reached the same point I have, maybe even further, and with about one tenth the effort. He’s controlled his demon, he’s got a soul, he’s got you--and he’s still the same arrogant pain in the ass he’s always been. He’s constantly in my face, or hovering over my shoulder, doing his damnedest to piss me off...”

“Then help him get a place of his own, Angel. Give him a job or something--he won’t be able to bug you if you keep him busy; I learned that a long time ago.” The Slayer sighed and dropped down into one of the office’s leather chairs. Ooh, comfy... “It’s like a tug of war between you two. Maybe if you give a little, you’ll be able to gain a bit more. You know, give him his own space and you’ll get yours back.”

The vampire pulled a footstool over and sat across from the blonde. Smiling, he shook his head. “So, when did you get all mature and level-headed?”

Buffy laughed wistfully. “You try being in charge of a houseful of teenaged Slayers--you’ll see just how quickly your diplomatic abilities develop.”

“Times sure have changed, haven’t they?”

“They sure have.”

“And you really love Spike?”

“Yes. I really do. It’s hard to explain to you, Angel, because you don’t trust him. Although he changed for me--I know that’s what it was at first, some kind of weird obsession--eventually it became something more altruistic.” She paused, and snickered. “And before you say anything, yes--I’ve been working with Giles. So no vocab jokes...”

Angel bit back a smile and raised his eyebrows. “I wasn‘t going to say anything...”

They shared a comfortable silence before getting up. Angel put his hand on the Slayer’s shoulder. “I’ll have someone work on getting Spike a place before sundown.”

“A nice, furnished place. With a view--and windows like these, where he can look out during the daytime. And...”

“Ok! Don’t worry--I’ll make sure he gets the penthouse treatment. Now go and find him--he’s probably bothering someone as we speak.”

Buffy opened the door and turned back to the vampire. “Thanks, Angel. Thanks for everything. And I hope Cordy comes out of it--I really do.” She offered him a shy smile before walking away, slow, measured steps broadcasting her exhaustion to the workers of Wolfram & Hart.

***

“Bloody hell...”

Buffy pushed her way past Spike into the vast entrance of his new home. Angel had pulled it off in less than an hour. One large Penthouse suite with a bank of charmed windows looking over the cityscape. Just what she’d requested. She turned around and saw that the blonde vampire hadn’t yet moved. The key was still tightly held between his thumb and index finger, and his mouth was agape.

Tugging at his duster sleeve--and just where did he get another coat like that, anyway?--she managed to pull him out of his stupefaction. “Come on--let’s give ourselves the grand tour...”

They’d seen the kitchen, the living room--with wall-sized entertainment unit, to Spike’s utter delight, the guest bedroom and bathroom. There was even a sunroom, which the vampire had insisted on staying in for a little longer. “Be strange, reading in natural light after a hundred and twenty years...” Buffy had simply hugged him, understanding the awe he was feeling at the moment. After all, this was way better than his crypt, no matter how homey he’d managed to make it.

And last but not least, there was the master bedroom. It contained a king-sized canopied bed, a large armoire, seating area with reading lamp and a large television. It was as if it had been decorated with Spike in mind. Hell, it may just have been, Buffy mused. She walked over to the ensuite bathroom and let out a squeal.

Spike nearly dropped the night lamp he’d been examining when he heard the Slayer’s scream. He ran to the bathroom to join her. “What?! What’s wrong?! What is it?”

“Wrong? Oh, God, nothing’s wrong! Do you see the size of that bathtub? The pool at Sunnydale High wasn’t that big...” She walked over to the white and silver marble tub and hopped into its emptiness. “Ahh... This is going to be sooo good...” Her head popped up as a thought came to mind. “I wonder if they left any bubble bath?” Jumping out, she began to go through all the cupboards.

A smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, Spike leaned back against the doorway and watched Buffy search for her smelly bath stuff. His immediate reaction to the bathtub was that it was big enough for two. As was the bed, as was everything else in this marvellous new abode of his.

“Pet, if you don’t mind my asking--what on earth did you tell Peaches for me to end up with this?”

Without looking up from the cupboard she was raiding, the Slayer answered him truthfully. “I told him he has to stop living in the past--you’re not who you used to be, Spike, and he shouldn’t treat the man you are like the monster you used to be. He’s jealous, you know--you’ve managed, in something like five years, to overcome obstacles he still hasn’t battled successfully in over a century.” There was a pause. “Aha! I knew they’d have some.” Her head popped up back into view and she pointed a glass vial towards him. “Lavender. Nice and relaxing.”

“So, easy as that, you get him to what, forgive me?” The vampire was still incredulous.

“Oh, no. He still hates you more than anything. I think I just guilted him into getting this for you. I may have also mentioned that it would get you out of his hair if you actually had somewhere nice to go to.”

Spike let out a hearty laugh. “That’s rich, Slayer--you’re good at negotiating, you know that?” He walked over to where she was standing and opened another cupboard door. “They leave some vanilla-scented stuff?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I just grabbed the first one I saw. Why?” She never really envisioned Spike as a bubble bath kinda vamp.

“Because it reminds me of you.” He pulled her to him and nuzzled her neck, holding her tight against him. “You know, the smell used to drive me crazy. I could follow your trail just by your scent–vanilla, I think... what was it? Was it shampoo, or perfume?”

Her breathing had accelerated and her mind was turning to mush. This is what he did to her... “Uh... It was a body wash, I think. I can’t really remember...”

“S’alright, love. Vanilla wasn’t the only smell of yours that made me insane.” He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. No, it shouldn’t be like this. She’s tired, it’s been a long day... He has to prove to her that all this is just more than sex.

Why isn’t he holding me anymore? Buffy let out a slight groan at the loss of contact before being picked up in strong, pale arms. Now, this is more like it... She let her head fall against his chest, finding the lack of a heartbeat oddly comforting. She closed her eyes--only for a second, though--breathing in his scent, feeling the strength of the body that was carrying her.

She was asleep before he even laid her on the bed. His golden goddess, his Slayer--so strong, so full of life. As he slipped her shoes off and pulled the covers over her, he offered a quick thanks to the Man above, his first such communication in well over a century, for what he had at that moment.

***

As she slowly woke up, Buffy found that she was in a strange bed. Comfy as all hell, but strange. She pulled herself up into a sitting position, wiping the sleep from her eyes and the hair from her face. Her mouth felt dry and pasty--ugh, note to self: never go to bed without brushing.

The young woman’s eyes fell upon a chair placed just in front of the bedroom’s large window. Or, they fell upon the form that was sitting in the chair. Watching the sun rise...

“Spike! What are you doing?!” She grabbed the blanket off the bed and ran over to him, smothering him in the oversized quilt. Oh, God--please don’t let me be too late...

“Bloody, buggering...” Spike nearly lost control of his demon at the surprise of having someone attack him with a blanket. “What the hell is going on?” He managed to work his way out of the constricting load of fabric and saw Buffy, tears streaming down her face.

“Buffy?” Then it hit him--she must have thought that he was going to watch that ‘final sunrise’ she’d always threatened him with. Chuckling, he pulled her onto his lap and managed to wrap the blanket around her trembling form. He kissed her temple, brushing the hair out of her face. “Charmed windows, remember?”

She felt like an ass. Of course--the windows had a spell on them. Embarrassed beyond words, the young woman simply groaned and buried her face into the vampire’s neck. “I forgot about that. I thought you were trying to kill yourself...”

“After finally getting you back? Not on my unlife, Slayer. I’m gonna fight tooth and nail to stay in this world now that I’ve got you.” His eyes left his love for a moment, looking straight ahead of him. “Look at that, Buffy. Look at the colours--I... I couldn’t even remember what they all looked like.”

Buffy looked up, but instead of guiding her eyes towards the rising sun she let them settle on the vampire. His face was awash in an orange-reddish hue, and the look in his eyes was indescribable. An amalgamation of awe, surprise, reverence even. And the tears. Twice now, in less than 24 hours, she had watched his eyes water in exuberance. Feeling her own eyes tearing, she turned towards the spectacle, ready to share it with the man she loved.

Aside from Buffy, it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld. Had he really taken the time, so long ago when he was still alive, to cast his eyes on the rising sun? Awash in flames of gold and red, painting the skies in shades of purple, he was certain that he never really had paid any attention to what may be insignificant to those who can, but don’t, appreciate it. He knew he was crying, but he didn’t care. Looking at Buffy, he saw that she was also sharing his tears.

Placing a hand on her cheek, the vampire pulled the Slayer’s face towards his for their first kiss. That’s how he saw it--their relationship was reborn, like a phoenix from its ashes, and he was tasting her lips for the first time. They were soft and rendering against his own; neither deepened the kiss, so it remained chaste and feather-like.

For once, her words came first. “God, Spike--I love you so much. I’ve missed you like you can’t imagine. It’s been like... I don’t know, like a hole in my heart, or something. Like a part of me died with you.”

Spike thought back to a time, years ago, when he himself had mourned the Slayer’s death. “I think I can imagine what it’s like, losing someone you love. S’happened to me before, you know. But we’re both here, now. We’re together, finally.”

There was a short pause before Buffy spoke up again. “So, what time do you think we should get to Wolfram & Hart, anyway?” She averted her eyes, and began tracing a warm finger down the vampire’s chest.

Spike’s grip on the Slayer tightened--it had been a long time since he’d had any of that, too. “Why’s that, love? Are there any pressing matters that might keep me away from harassing Peaches?”

“Mmm... Maybe... I know that there’s a nice, big comfy bed just a few feet behind us. Remember how we always used to miss the bed? I think that it’s time to try our aim again...”

The vampire growled in her ear. “You’ll find out quick enough, little girl, that there’s nothing wrong with my aim.” He picked her up and flung her over his shoulder, as she squealed and kicked. Dropping her onto the bed, he had to pause and wonder at the woman who’d stolen his heart. Such a little thing, but so strong and so full of passion.

Buffy looked up at Spike. Glad to have finally followed her heart, not caring about the opinions of others, she lifted her arms and began to work at undoing his belt. “Spike--let’s pretend this is our first time. Forget about the hate, the anger, the really gross dust from that other first time--from that other Slayer and vampire. I want you to make love to me like you’ve always wanted to.”

His only answer was to lean down and kiss her--not so chastely, this time. When he felt her hands at his jeans’ buttons, working them open one by one, he realized that he was nearly naked, yet she was still fully dressed. Gotta remedy that, mate.

His lips were on hers, cool and hot blending together. She opened her mouth and took his tongue in, pushing her own against it. He still tasted of whiskey and cigarettes--something that was and would always be inherently Spike. Buffy felt the buttons on her shirt pull apart, revealing her skin to the ministrations of an obviously very horny vampire. Open-mouthed kisses, cool to the flush of her skin, followed the parting buttons at an agonizingly slow pace. Her heart was beating a staccato rhythm and her nerves were tingling in suspense of what was to come. “Spike, please...”

He had long ago discovered that she was indeed the begging kind. And it had never taken much, either. But, ever the gentleman, he placed one last kiss just below her navel and pulled away to work on her pants. Good, he thought to himself as he noticed that she wasn’t wearing the usual ’painted on’ clothing. The jeans she was wearing were more of a relaxed fit than the usual leather ones he was used to battling with.

One leg on the ground, one bent at the knee just to the side of her quivering body, the vampire slowly undid the button and zipper of her pants. Buffy used that moment to pull her shirt and bra off. She was in no mood for never-ending foreplay--not now, at least. That could come later. At that moment, what she wanted more than anything, was to feel him inside of her, filling her like he always did. She didn’t even attempt to suppress the moan that rose to her lips when she felt his cool hands push down at the waist of her pants, pulling them and her underpants off at once.

Christ, she was beautiful. More than ever--like his own personal sunrise, all golden and warm. He leaned down and began to place kisses near the apex of her thighs. He lifted his head, casting his gaze upon hers, when he heard her call his name.

“Spike? I don’t mean to be all... well, like I used to be... But can we skip the foreplay, just this once? It’s been a long time since I’ve... and now I have you and I just want to feel you inside of me.” She pulled at her lower lip with her teeth, hoping that she hadn’t just ruined her chance at happiness.

The vampire chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “Slayer--you’re asking me if it’s ok to skip straight to dessert?” He placed himself over her, his body covering hers, until his erection was rubbing against her hot core. His smirk had disappeared and his voice was rough with need. “Does this feel like I mind?” He slipped the head of his cock in her, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “The question that remains is: do you want it fast and hard, or slow?”

It had been so long and she’d played and re-played this over and over again in her waking dreams--Buffy was almost mute with desire. Her voice cracked as she answered his question. “Slow... Oh, God, Spike--make it last all day.”

At his love’s prompting, the vampire slowly entered her, inch by inch, feeling the wetness and the heat engulf him. If this didn’t dust him, nothing would. His lips were on hers, tongue entering her mouth in time to his pelvis’s thrusts. The feel of her warm body, so soft and inviting for once, was intoxicating. This was the first time she’d ever allowed him to show her how much he loved her.

It was the strangest of sensations. All at once, Buffy felt as relaxed as she’d ever been, yet her heart was beating a mile a minute. She broke their kiss and let her mouth wander down the long column of his neck. Her ministrations alternated from kisses to nips to licks, each one eliciting moans or whimpers from the one she was with.

Although they’d both wanted it to last hours, days even, they found themselves holding back for those extra minutes and seconds. It had been so long since either of them had been intimate that their bodies sought instant gratification, revelling in the contact that had been sorely missed those past few months.

Buffy’s body was singing, extremities numb, nerves tingling--she easily recognized the signs of her oncoming release. Pulling her head back to look into the deep blue eyes of her vampire lover, she managed to speak. “I love you, Spike--all of you. Man, demon... If you want to let your demon loose...” She didn’t finish with words, but turned her neck to the side, baring herself to Spike’s darker half.

The vampire felt his features shift, blue eyes turning to amber, senses heightened. When he felt the Slayer’s body go rigid, her inner muscles clamping down on him, Spike let himself fall over the precipice. His own body pumping out its release, he placed his mouth at Buffy’s jugular, and...

Nothing. The bloodlust that should have been present just wasn’t there. Perplexed (to say the least), he brought his head up and stared at the Slayer.

He hadn’t bitten her. He was in full game face--if her eyes couldn’t have told her, the tingling along her spine would have--yet she remained unmarred. “Spike? Why didn’t...”

“Don’t know. It’s strange, though. I don’t feel any different about you, even with my demon out.” His features smoothened back to his human guise. “My demon usually calls for your blood, I mean--it’s in its nature, isn’t it?” He rolled off of the Slayer, laying on his side, facing her.

“Maybe you’ve tamed the beast within. Sounds corny, but maybe that’s what happened.” It was the only logical answer Buffy could come up with. Why else wouldn’t a demon go straight for her jugular when given the green flag? She pulled herself up to Spike’s side and lay her head on his chest.

“Stay with me.”

The Slayer’s brow furrowed. “Huh? I’m not going anywhere...”

“No, I mean move in with me--don’t go back to England.” Spike knew he was asking the world of Buffy, but the question had just popped out of its own volition and... well, since it was out in the open, he might as well stick to it.

Buffy’s heart raced. He wanted her to be with him, to wake up with him every morning... or sunset, or whenever. She’d have to talk it over with Giles, but he’d been pushing her to go off on her own now that she wasn’t the only Chosen one. Maybe she could finally go back to school--actually get a degree in something that didn’t require pointy sticks and how to get slime out of silk... Wasn’t she once told that she could have an aptitude in landscaping? Imagine that--helping things grow instead of killing them...

“You know I can’t cook, right?”

“Yes, but I can.”

“And you know I snore...”

“Does the phrase ‘sleep like the dead‘ mean anything, Slayer?”

“I’d have to talk to Giles about it, but... Oh God, yes. I don’t want to leave you, not ever again.” She burrowed her head in the crook of his shoulder, swinging her arm over his chest and bringing her leg up around his. The need to wrap herself up around him, to immerse herself in his being was strong at that moment.

“You might not be able to give me the picket fence and 2.5 children that Angel left me for, but you’ve given me a chance at having as normal a life as I can ever hope, Spike. And I want to spend it with you, so you can see just how much your sacrifice means to me.”

They lay in bed, both lost in their own thoughts, when the phone rang. Spike looked to his side of the bed, at a cordless phone that sat there. Picking it up, he looked at Buffy. “You put this here?”

The Slayer cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. “No.”

That left only one person who would know him well enough to put the phone in the right place. “’Lo, Peaches.”

“Spike. Glad to see that you‘re up. First of all, that place of yours isn’t a freebie--you’re going to get your ass down here and earn it. We’ll find something for you to do, believe me--even if it‘s changing the toner in the photocopiers. Second of all, Wolfram & Hart doesn’t operate on vampire hours, so you’re going to have to get used to following a human schedule. Third...” Spike heard a frustrated sigh from his grandsire, which only bolstered the already shit-eating grin he wore. “Get Buffy down here, too. We got a call from Giles this morning--she was supposed to call him, or something. Looks like she forgot to, for some reason.”

The bleached blonde was about to speak his first words when the line went dead.

“Guess Peaches isn’t much of a morning person, eh?” He chuckled as he put the phone back down on the night table. “Well, love, looks like I’ve been called to my first day of real work.” The vampire sat up and walked over to the window, looking out at Los Angeles.

“So you’re just going to leave me here?”

Buffy was teasing, and Spike knew it. “No, love. Angel wants you there too. Seems you were supposed to call your Watcher and didn’t. Naughty girl.”

“Oh, shit! I totally forgot! I so need to get cleaned up...” Buffy jumped off the bed and headed for the bathroom before making a U-turn back to Spike’s side. Wrapping her arms around him--just to make sure this really wasn’t a dream--she let her gaze follow his. “Pretty, in a sort of ‘concrete jungle’ kinda way, isn’t it?”

Spike nodded. “Things always look prettier when you’ve got someone to look at them with. ‘S poncey, I know, but true.”

They stayed still for a minute, before Buffy nudged the vampire. “Come on--wouldn’t be good to test your boss’s patience on your first day of work. It’s a new beginning for both of us, Spike--kinda like our own adventure. Now come, before we’re late.”

The vampire allowed himself to be dragged to the bathroom, never turning from the window. More like a new dawn, he realized. One that he was more than eager to partake in.