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 Time was a funny thing, Spike decided emphatically as he looked up into the night sky.
 
The days that Buffy had been dead and buried had passed by as an eternity, each minute stretching painfully on to the next; leaving Spike with agonizing amounts of time to think. To grieve. It had been an unending torment with no apparent relief in sight.
 
But now that Buffy was with him again, all that tortured time seemed like a distant memory. Merely a brief repast in the long expanse of his years with just a hint of grief that had flavored it for a short time.
 
Where before he had wished time to pass by at a furious pace, hoping with every passing second that his grief would be become less, now he savored every second he had with her, watching as it sped by with regret. He would never have enough time with her. Never.
 
She had been back for almost two months, and Spike found himself blessing each moment she enthusiastically spent in his company. The God that Spike had willingly forsaken when he had allowed Drusilla to bring him over to the dark side now heard words of gratitude on a daily basis. For letting her come back. For letting her love him.
 
It was more than he deserved he knew, and his heart still clenched up with something akin to worship whenever his eyes fell upon her.
 
She was perfection.
 
And she was his.
 
Things were decidedly different now though, this time around the grave. There was a definite shift in the hierarchy that had made up the backbone of Buffy's support system for all those years she was the Slayer. A thought which brought a smile of satisfaction to his lips. Buffy relied on him to watch her back now, knowing he would be there without falter.
 
Spike paused his musings long enough to light up a cigarette, his legs stretched out on the wooden chaise lounge that decorated the utilitarian back yard of Buffy's house.
 
No, not Buffy's house.
 
It was their house now.
 
Flipping the lighter top down with an exaggerated snap, Spike stuffed it back into the pocket of his duster; his ears tuned into the activity inside the house that would alert him to Buffy's arrival from work. The night was slightly cool, a fact that while it registered with the vampire, refused to bother him at all.
 
Rupert had returned to Sunnydale, leaving his new life in England to be there if Buffy should need him. He, at least, recognized the changes in Buffy's life for what they were, rather than how they affected him directly-- unlike the others. Because of that one fact, Spike's respect for Rupert grew.
 
Spike still fought the urge to rip Willow and Xander's heads off every time he was around them, and they were smart to keep their distance these days, finally realizing that no matter what argument they used or how often they said it, it was a waste of breath. Knowing that Buffy put someone, some THING as they continually reminded her, before them was the nail on the proverbial coffin as far as they were concerned, and their resentment continued to grow.
 
Angel had taken his broody ass and returned to Los Angeles and the Tin Soldier had snuck out of town with all of his trained stealthiness, leaving a bereft Xander who has lost a solid supporter on his side of the "Spike is Evil" campaign. Yet one more thing the whelp added to the mental tally of grievances against the chipped vampire.
 
Spike took a long drag of his smoke as he felt his inner contentment bubble to the surface in spite of the continuing antagonism from Buffy's mates.
 
Aside from those occasional confrontations, Spike's un-life was the best he'd ever had it. He shared a bed with his Slayer and with the niblet in the house, it was the closest thing to a real family he'd had in a long time-- if ever.
 
He was happy. Content.
 
Spike could feel Buffy growing near and his acute hearing picked up the sounds of the front door opening, and an unconscious smile slid across his face. Buffy was home. He waited to see how long it would take before she sought him out, and his smile turned into a full fledged grin when he heard the back door opening before he had even counted to thirty.
 
"Spike?" she called, stepping out on the top step. "Are you out here?"
 
"No, you've got another smoking vamp sitting in your back yard."
 
"Smart ass."
 
"You love it." He looked up at her approach and flicked his cigarette away, his eyes roaming appreciatively over her barely clad body. "How was work?"
 
Buffy allowed a minimal shrug. "It was ok, I guess." She reached his side and swung her leg over the width of the chair before settling herself down, straddling Spike's waist. Her fingers splayed possessively over the expanse of his chest as she leaned forward to capture his mouth in greeting.
 
Spike growled low in his throat and wrapped his greedy fingers around the slim swell of her hips, rocking her back until she was in direct contact with his now very alert cock. Plunging his tongue roughly into her mouth and thrusting up against her to give her a proper welcome home, Buffy surprised him by pulling back with her face scrunched up in distaste.
 
"What?"
 
"Ick! You taste like smoke."
 
Spike cocked his head to the side, staring at her intently. "Never bothered you before. In fact, if memory serves correctly, you said my smoking got you hot."
 
Buffy nodded empathically. "And it does! Sorry, didn't mean to ruin a moment here, especially one that I initiated. It's just... well, my tummy just been weird and my sense of smell seems to have taken on Slayer strength or something." She sat upright, still straddling Spike's lean waist as she traced patterns in his t-shirt with the tip of her index finger.
 
"And god, you should smell some of the people at the gym, I mean... you'd think they would get a clue with the whole shower thing in the locker room and everything."
 
Spike didn't even try bother hiding his look of concern, anything bothering her caused him distress. "How long has this been going on?"
 
Buffy shrugged again. "Not long. Was just trying to ignore it, hoping it would go away. Figured it was just some lame, claimy-type stuff."
 
Spike sat up with rush, keeping her legs locked against him, his forearms wrapped around her torso. "Sorry pet. The claim doesn't add any of my powers to yours."
 
"Well that just sucks." Buffy's lower lip jutted out in a pout, causing Spike to groan with restrained temptation. That lip got him every time.
 
Throwing his legs to the ground, he stood up quickly, grinning when Buffy squeaked with surprise but wrapped her capable legs around his waist. "Where are we going?"
 
"Gonna get you something to eat, is what. I can hear your tummy making all kinds of funny noises."
 
Spike threw open the back door and strode into the kitchen, Buffy grumbling how she wasn't hungry the entire way.
 
Dawn didn't even look up from doing homework at the kitchen, the sight of seeing Buffy and Spike together in such a fashion had lost all sense of newness. "I made macaroni and cheese with that polish sausage stuff in it, it's in the fridge," Dawn announced to her sister, her attention still focused on the book in front of her.
 
"Ewww."
 
That brought Dawn's head shooting up as she regarded her sister as she was being plopped down on one of the kitchen counters by Spike.
 
"What are you talking about? You love that stuff," Dawn informed her with a sharp look.
 
"Yeah, I know, but it just sounds major gross right now." Buffy's face was scrunched up in the same manner Spike had witnessed earlier. "I'm not hungry anyway."
 
Dawn arched her eyebrow in her sister's direction, recalling Buffy's usual scarf-fest after her workday as a personal trainer. "Since when aren't you hungry after work?"
 
Buffy brought herself upright in pouting indignation. "Since....now. Food and me right now? Unmixy."
 
Spike rolled his eyes at her words, going to the refrigerator to fix her something to eat. "I know you're hungry pet. I can hear your tummy making all kinds of gurglies and..." his voice trailed off as he fixed an incredulous stare at her stomach.
 
"What?" Buffy cried with paranoia, trying to pull down her cropped work-out top to cover her stomach from his very prying eyes. "Am I getting fat or something?"
 
His eyes lifted to meet hers and a flicker of alarm shoot through her at the maelstrom of emotions she found reflected in their blue depths. "What?" she asked again, uncertainty making her voice slightly shrill.
 tbc...





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