Chapter One

It had been his dream ever since he was seven years old and his mother’s wayward sister-in-law, Georgie had taken him to see The Clash. It was certainly no place for a seven year old, Spike had realized it even then, but his aunt had been put in charge of caring for him for the day and it was what she wanted to do…So, they went.

They went and his dream was born.

His dream to be up there on that stage, to be the one singing, the one everyone was screaming for. To the young boy, it seemed like the best thing in the world; utopia.

The feeling had only grown as he himself grew, as he inched closer and closer to living that dream.

He had even met a girl—in fifth grade, just weeks after moving to the States, no less—that not only supported him but truly believed in him as well.

Every step of the way Buffy Summers was there for him; she kept him going when he felt like giving in. When things weren’t happening fast enough for him, she would pipe up with some fact about how it had taken so and so x number of years to get where they were and ‘would he just look at how well they were doing?’.

He’d often wondered how she managed to know all those things. After all, she did have her own life, her own dreams and goals. She was going to be a preschool teacher.

He found out early on, after a lighthearted comment that he hadn’t even put much thought into, that she was not—as he had expected—going to tour the world with him. She was going to get him there because it was where he wanted to be and because she loved him, but it wasn’t what she wanted for herself.

Spike, of course, tried protesting: he asked her how they would manage with him halfway across the world from her.

They would manage, she said.

They would manage.

Except they didn’t.


***|***


“Why haven’t you ever called me a fool?” William wondered—what seemed to Buffy—out of the blue while they sat eating lunch in her kitchen. It was a Saturday afternoon, just under four months into their freshman year of high school and they were at her house planning for Christmas, less than two weeks away.

“What?” Buffy asked, “Why would I ever do that?”

“I told you when we were ten that I was ‘going to be a rock star when I grow up’. That’s not exactly on everyone’s top ten list of most reasonable goals, pet.”

“Well that’s because it’s not reasonable for everyone to have that as a goal—it is for you,” she stated simply.

“Not quite sure how to take that.”

“It’s a compliment you dummy. Most people don’t have that much passion about something regardless of whether it would pay off or not, but you….and William,” Buffy looked him right in the eye, “it is going to pay off for you.”

“Go to Winter Formal with me,” he blurted out suddenly while still recovering from her statement and the intensity with which it was spoken.

“That’s Friday!” Buffy said before she could think.

“Come on, you know how bad I am ‘bout being able to ask girls out.”

“Is that what you’re—You mean like how we went to that eighth grade graduation thing together, right?”

“Actually I was thinking of something a little…different. But if it’s a rotten idea, just tell me.”

“So you’re like…asking me on a date?”

“I don’t know what I—“

“Are you or aren’t you? And no being scared of me. I’ve known you for almost five years; I know when you’re lying, too.”

“Yeah,” he finally agreed, “I was.”

“Okay!” she said chirpily before leaning across the table to kiss him on the cheek.

They didn’t talk about their ‘date’ anymore that afternoon but any thoughts that it wasn’t the only thing on both of their minds, would have been quickly dispelled with just a look at either of them: Buffy was blushing slightly and kept sneaking little glances at William while he had a goofy grin on his face and wasn’t able to keep his eyes off her.



***|***


Spike had no found out until the week before Spring Break that Buffy had already been asked—several times—to that Winter dance. Apparently, Angel had been trying to get her to go with him ever since it had been announced in September.

She had even told him, Angel, that she would ‘think about it’. But, after William had asked her…as soon as he had left her house that day, she had called Angel and told him that she would, without a doubt, not be going with him. She was done thinking about it.

That first date of theirs had gone better than he could have imagined. He had heard the horror stories of friends who tried dating and not only didn’t end up in a romantic relationship, but also lost their friendship, of course, but nothing like that happened with him and Buffy. In his heart he had known it wouldn’t. It just wasn’t possible to ruin what they had between them. It was one of those forever things.

Or at least one of those forever things if you counted high school and the first year and a half of college as forever—which, he figured, some people did.

They were perfect together really, everyone at school envied them—voted them Prom King and Queen two years in a row, too, but most of all, William himself envied them. They had stayed best friends the entire time, never once losing an ounce of their friendship because of the new facet of their relationship.



He had been asked by several people, in interviews and otherwise, how it was he was able to write such truthful and heartfelt love songs at such a young age—and being single as well. When he gave his answer, the same one every time, he knew they all thought he was giving them an answer that would sound romantic but which held no truth; they didn’t know there was little he was every more truthful about.

He was able to write his songs and sing them with such emotion because he had felt that kind of love. The kind of love that all at once inspired masterful works of art and could cause great wars; the kind that drove you mad and allowed you to keep your hold on sanity at the same time. The kind of love that you knew you would never feel for anyone else, but that you would never, ever forget a second of either.

The kind of love that everyone dreamed about.

He’d found it.

He’d found it and then he had lost it.


TBC....

Chapter Two


He knew he was living his dream; knew this was everything he had ever wanted. Yet at the same time…

He felt so empty sometimes. Felt as if a huge part of him were missing.

And he knew right where that part was: a preschool in Sunnydale, California.

There were so many things he had never told Buffy—like how he had wanted that first dance of theirs, the one back in the eighth grade, to have been a date but had been to scared to correct her when she had assumed it was an ‘as friends’ thing. He had never told her what made him ask her out that day or how she was the first girl he had ever liked ‘in that way’.

He didn’t think he had ever told her either that she was always going to be ‘it’ for him no matter who he ended up involved with in the future.



There were plenty of women who wanted him—always had been if he were honest about it—and in the last few years he had actually taken some of them up on their offers. He thought that it might help him miss Buffy a little less, might make it so that he could better bear to be apart from her—but it had not.

Spike knew that the ‘worldly’ women sharing his bed these nights were supposed to make the memory of his first night with his first love, faded and distant but they did not. The memory of his first night with Buffy was still as fresh and vivid and…intoxicating as it had been that first morning after.

It had been the first time for both of them, a fact he was not at all ashamed to admit even when some suggested he should be. It didn’t happen until the month before they started their senior year, but in many ways he was glad they had waited—of course he wasn’t sure he would exactly have complained if they hadn’t, but he liked the way things had transpired.

The date was July twenty ninth and his parents were in England for some old family friend’s daughter’s wedding. Buffy’s parents allowed her to spend the nights at his house that week because, like the wonderful parents that they were, Joyce and Hank believed that Buffy had been sexually active since, well, about the eighth grade. Where exactly it was that they got such a low opinion of her—and that’s what Spike saw it as, a ‘low opinion’—he would never know. His Buffy was a good girl. She hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol until her twenty first birthday—or so he assumed, he had left by her twentieth—and had never once done any drugs or smoked.

She was sweet and wholesome, but only in the best ways. She still knew how to drive him wild and be sure that they had the absolute best times together; she just did it without doing anything illegal—or that she didn’t want to do.

And that was why—or at least partially why—he was so sorry things had fallen apart between them. He didn’t like the way they had just drifted, for lack of a better word, apart from each other. At least if he had been there, been near her, he could be sure to tell her all of the things he wanted to someday tell her, before she was done with him.

Instead, though, he was half way across the world and she was back there in Sunnydale—back there not knowing everything he wanted her to know.

She was in Sunnydale and he, for the moment, was in Copenhagen.

Spike was living his dream.

Except, he was seeing now, that he wasn’t.



***|***


It had just taken a talk with his manger, but he had done it.

Okay, so it was more like ten talks with his manger, five with different bigwigs at the record company and watching another summer, winter, and then another summer pass by in waiting, but he had done it.

At twenty-seven, he was giving up the dream he had had for twenty years, the one he had lived for seven, to go after what he knew he would truly want for the rest of his life.

Singing and being a star made him happy as best it could, but he knew that he would be happier teaching six year olds piano if he had Buffy with him.

It was probably a stupid thing to do, give everything up before even talking to her, before even finding out if she ha found someone knew, if she’d gotten married or moved…but he had to do it.

He had done all of this while leaving her behind because she had been sure that they would be able to make it—she was so sure and he believed her so, in turn, he was just as sure. But then time zones and schedules and just plain life had gotten in their way until they went from talking nearly every day, down to once a week, to once every few weeks, to being lucky if they checked in with each other once or twice a year. Now it was hardly even that.

Neither of them had wanted things to be this way, neither wanted it to have happened like it did. Yet, it was one of those things that because it happened so gradually, over such a long period of time, that you did not realize it was happening until it had already happened.

It had happened, yes, but it was something that could be changed; and change it he would.

Tomorrow in fact, he would change it. That’s what his plane ticket said at least: Flight 352, Copenhagen to Los Angeles, 9:22 am.

He was going to have to get some sleep to make it to the airport that early. Now, if only his mind would allow him the rest.



***|***


Buffy tried her best to keep up with where Spike was and what he was doing, but some times were harder than others were. Like now, for instance, she knew that he had put out another album just four months before, done a quick European tour and was now taking ‘an extended break’, but she didn’t know why.

She had scoured the entertainment papers looking for even a hint of why he was taking this ‘break’ but so far none of them knew. MTV, VH1, Fuse, and MuchMusic didn’t know either—they all speculated, sure, but none of them actually knew.

Apparently Spike and his ‘people’ were doing a very good job of keeping this ‘why’ a secret. God, Buffy hoped it wasn’t anything bad…hoped it wasn’t anything bad and hoped it wasn’t anything of a romantic nature because, well, if he was getting married or something like that…

She didn’t know what she would do.

If she didn’t have at least a semblance of an answer by next week, she was going to dig up that number of his publicist and she was going to get answers. Maybe she hadn’t talked to Spike much lately, if at all, but she still loved him, still counted him as her best friend; she couldn’t not know about something so major in his life.



***|***



TBC........pretty please review :-D

Chapter 3

Fourteen hours and forty-three minutes after his plane had taken off from Copenhagen, Spike stepped foot on Los Angeles soil—or Los Angeles cement if you wanted to be technical about it. It was only just past three o’clock in the afternoon, but after twelve hours of flying—with a little stopover in Vienna thrown in for fun—Spike was thoroughly exhausted; to him it felt like it was after midnight. And, to top it all off, he still had a good three hour drive before he made it to Sunnydale.

He knew it would probably have been easier if he had taken a private plane straight to the Sunnydale airport instead of taking this Copenhagen to Vienna to LA to Sunnydale route, but he didn’t want to do that. For now, at least, he was done with that life and everything it included—he wanted things back to how they had been, and the first step in that was taking a regular, commercial flight back to California.

A regular flight and a regular cab.



***|***


Buffy was about ready to go home and cry.

Not only did she still not know what was going on with William, one of the parents had asked her, as they picked their child up that afternoon, if she knew Spike. Apparently there was a lot of talk going around that he was possibly going to come to Sunnydale—his hometown—and because Buffy was around his age, the mother had been curious.

It was an innocent question really but one that had shaken Buffy.

For these past seven years, she had always had to say that yes, she had gone to school with Spike and yes, they had been friends, but they hadn’t spoken in years. Never was she able to say, ‘yes, I knew him; we were best friends since fifth grade and then from ninth grade until he left we dated and he was the first man I ever slept with…oh, and I’m still in love with him’.

She was always waiting, though, for the reporter to pop up who knew about them and wanted her story. It hadn’t happened yet—and not might not ever—and Buffy wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

She liked that the world wasn’t picking apart her relationship with Spike, trying to make it into something it wasn’t—she knew it was probably because they figured it was just a high school romance and really of no relevance now. She liked that but she didn’t like keeping what she had shared with and how she felt for Spike a secret from everyone. She wanted to be able to tell someone how much she loved him and how proud she was of him when they asked, wanted to be able to tell them how much he deserved what he had and how truly very talented he was.

But she was forced to downplay things, to pretend as if she had hardly known him. Forced to pretend as if his face was just another picture in the yearbook as opposed to the thing that haunted and comforted her in her dreams every night.

That was all easy enough—okay, so it wasn’t easy enough to do, but she was able to pretend that it was because she could see, nearly every day, either broadcast, photographed, or written proof that Spike was happy with his life; that he truly was living his dream.

But now…

Now that she didn’t know what was going on, now that she didn’t know what was happening with him, in his life, she thought it might be harder to do.

Only time would tell, she guessed.

But, in the meantime, a nice, large glass of wine should help matters along nicely.



***|***


It was coming up on seven o’clock when the taxicab pulled up to the house at 1630 Revello Drive. After a few deep breaths and some mental scolding, Spike was collecting his bags and paying the cabbie; he knew it would have been cheaper to rent a car than to take a hired car such a distance, but he wasn’t sure he had his head together enough to drive himself across the street let alone such a distance.

Even as the cab pulled away and he stood there, on the sidewalk with suitcases piled around his feet, the sun setting behind him, Spike found he couldn’t move. He knew what he had to do, knew that deep down he wanted to do it; but at the same time, he was terrified to do it.

He had done all of this with out first finding out if Buffy even wanted him back…if she even so much as missed him.

What would he do if he walked up there, rang the doorbell and her husband or boyfriend answered the door? If someone else entirely answered the door because she no longer lived there?

If she answered the door and, before she could hide it from him, he saw that look of hers that let him know he had done something she didn’t like? It was never quite disappointment and he knew she wouldn’t be disappointed to see him, but what if…

“William?!”



***|***


Buffy was settling into her chair in the living room, another glass of wine by her side, when she heard the car pull up in front of her house and stop. Everyone on her street had lived there for at least the past five years and, besides the Petersons the year before, they hadn’t bought any new cars, so Buffy knew which cars were her neighbors’.

And the car currently in front of her home, was not one of them. Immediately Buffy’s mind jumped back to the week previous when a reporter from Access Hollywood had been outside of the high school and then on her very street looking for someone who knew something about Spike’s break. Of course, no one in Sunnydale knew any more than anyone anywhere else did, but that didn’t stop them from asking. Didn’t stop people from making up bogus answers just to get themselves on TV, either.

God she hoped it wasn’t more reporters.

The longer they dug around, the more of the truth they were going to find out.

And the closer they got to the truth, the closer she was to having to either lie or share with the world things she would rather not. It wasn’t that Buffy was ashamed of her and Spike’s relationship—she was pretty sure she was on the opposite end of the spectrum there—but she just didn’t feel like everyone in the world knowing about it.

She liked how things were now.

Well, how things were now aside from that little fact that she hardly ever spoke to William, her one time best friend and lover.

The one she still loved and missed.



Five minutes later the car was just pulling away and Buffy felt the inexplicable urge to see if anyone was outside; if the car had left anyone behind.

It was almost as if something were pulling her towards the door—or at least to the window to look out.

Buffy wondered if the wine wasn’t, for one reason or another, going to her head more than normal tonight. It was the only explanation she could think of for the strange feelings coursing through her.

After just over two minutes of fighting the impulse to look out her front door, Buffy finally gave in—rationalizing with herself that she had only heard one door open and close on the car so it was possible that someone had been kicked out of the car and now needed help.

She was just being a good Samaritan, really.

Really.

She was just going to make sure there was no one hurt or in need of a telephone and then she would go back inside, likely have another glass of wine, and watch some television or a movie and go to bed. It was only seven o’clock but she was already exhausted after a day of more questions than normal about William and all her worry over what she might potentially have to deal with in the very near future. So, yes, she was just going to make sure everything was all right and then get ready for bed.

That was all.

With a breath that she didn’t understand the need to take, Buffy slowly turned the knob and opened her front door.


***|***




TBC.......please review? :)

Chapter 4


The sunlight peeking through from between the houses across the street obstructed Buffy’s vision enough for a few moments enough so that all she could tell was that someone with a lot of bags was standing in front of her house.

Then, once her eyes adjusted to the bright light…

“William?!”

Logically Buffy knew she had to be going crazy; that the wine had gone to her head…hell, it was even possible that she had fallen asleep and this was all some sort of a dream.

What was not possible was the idea that William was standing on the sidewalk in front of her house.

Except that she was running down the walkway as Not-William stared at her in awe and now she was there and her arms were around his neck and…he felt real enough. Knowing that this would all probably end much too soon—that she would wake up or whoever this person was would shove her off them—Buffy held on tightly, concentrating on every little thing she could feel: from the ways his hair brushed against her arms to the way the button on his jacket was poking her stomach through the thin material of her t-shirt.

“Buffy?”

Why the hell was he sounding confused? He was the one who had showed up in front of her house, what did he have to be confused about?

“You’re the one that came here. Shouldn’t you know where here is?” she wondered, still not willing to pull away from him for fear that it truly would all have been an illusion.

“I’m just…this is real?”

“You’re not losing your mind on me, are you Will?”

“No,” he chuckled softly, tightening his arms that had somehow found their way around her waist. “Just knew I was standing out here trying to convince myself that it would be good to go to your door and then…you’re here.”

“I live here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but my mind’s a little jumbled right now, so…Do you want to come inside?” Buffy finally realized that their little display was likely going to attract attention—attention that would lead to everyone realizing that William was Spike.

Besides, she was just about ready to believe that he was really there, in her arms.

“If you want, yeah.”

Buffy wanted to tell him that things didn’t need to be so…stinted between them but she was still in a bit too much shock over his sudden appearance—luggage in tow—to formulate much in the way of words.

“Come on,” she said simply, helping him to carry his bags towards her front door.

“Buffy?” he said and she stopped but didn’t turn to face him; just the possibility that he was going to change his mind was too much. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Will,” she replied, a soft smile on her face and her worry eased somewhat.



***|***



Once they had sat his bags inside, Buffy had insisted on getting him something to eat and drink while he ‘relaxed’ in the living room. He had tried to argue with her but she was determined and he was too tired to fight her enough for it to be successful.

So only now, at seven forty three, after he had eaten his sandwich, were they getting ready to talk.

When neither of them had said anything for several moments, Buffy laughed nervously, “You know, this isn’t exactly how I pictured things when I used to imagine you coming back.”

Spike fought hard not to give any mind to how she had used the past tense in regards to picturing his return, knowing that he would lose hope if he did.

“Yeah? Then just how did you picture it going?”

“Bit less with the PG rating,” she confessed. “But things change.”

Spike knew what he had to say.

It was just a matter of saying it.

“Do they really?” he questioned.

“What?”

“Do things really change?”

“Of course they do,” Buffy interrupted.

“—Or do people just tell themselves that to make it easier when they’ve moved on…is it just a way for people to absolve themselves of guilt?”

“One: I don’t know what you’re talking about. Two: People are things, too so saying people change is the same as saying things change.”

“No, it’s not, Buffy,” Spike corrected, his voice gentle but unmistakably serious as well. “Saying ‘things change’ is a hell of a lot different than saying ‘I’ve changed’.”

“Fine, so maybe it is. What’s your point? And what’s it have to do with anything?”

“What it has to do with is…I’m here—“

“I noticed.”

“—and I’m taking a bit of a professional break—“

“I heard.”

“—and I need to know where we stand.”

“What?”

“I need to know where you and I stand with…everything.”

“I got that you meant that,” Buffy said slowly. “I just don’t know what you mean.” But before he could question what she meant, Buffy thought of something else. “I don’t need some apology like those twelve step things tell you to give. We said we would make this work but it didn’t and that’s that. There’s nothing either of us needs to apologize for.”

“Well,” he said slowly, “you might want to apologize for thinking the only way I’d ever take this break was if I were going to rehab.” He was angry. Being angry was good. Being angry didn’t allow him the displeasure of thinking how far he must have fallen in her mind for her to imply something such as that.

“That’s not what I was thinking—not what I am thinking. But, God, William, even if I were, what right do you have to be mad at me for it? Don’t you remember how you use to rant on for days every time some band broke up or some singer retired? You’d go on and on about how stupid the were to give it up and how you’d never do that when you got famous. You always told me that you were going to do it till they day you died,” Buffy hadn’t meant for her whole speech to sound so…passionate but William being back and her continued confusion over the whole situation had her a swirling mass of emotions.

“Bollocks!”

“Don’t call me a liar! I know you re—“

“And don’t tell me you don’t remember what happened that day you got tired of all my moaning,” Buffy knew that if it had been a different time and place, she wouldn’t have let that comment pass. But it wasn’t a different time or place; it was here and it was now. “You told me that you were sure there was something I would give all of it up for. Remember that?”

Buffy did not answer him though they both knew she remembered the event clearly.

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me what happened, Buffy. Tell me,” he ordered. Still she stayed silent, not ready to answer him for fear of what her answer would mean. “Dammit, Buffy, I’ve been up since seven o’clock this morning—and that’s fucking Copenhagen time—twenty one god damn hours and I’m too tired for this. Just tell me.”

Now if she had thought about it, she would have realized he had been awake a very long time—poor guy never could sleep on planes—but, she really hadn’t thought about it. Until now that is.

“You said,” she finally replied, “that you were sure there wasn’t and so I told you to think about it—mostly just because I figured it would get you to shut up, not because you’d actually think about it.”

“And then what?”

“You came over to my house in the middle of the night and told me.”

“Told you what?”

God, why was he making her do this? “You told me you knew something that you would give it all up for.” He just looked at her expectantly. “Me.”

“That’s right,” he said needlessly. “I told you that I would give it all up for you; to be with you.”

He stopped then, didn’t say anything more and it took a few seconds for Buffy to catch on, but when she did…

”What are you saying?”



“I’m saying that I’m giving it all up.”

Several more moments passed.

“And what if I…” she trailed off, not even sure what she was attempting to ask.

“What if you don’t want me? What if you’ve got somebody else?” While each suggestion pained him to say, he knew he had to; he needed her to fully understand what this was. What he was doing. “Then I’m still here.”

“You wouldn’t leave?”

“No, love, I—“

“Don’t you remember how much you wanted to do all this—all that? How happy it makes you? That’s your life, William—we all have things from our past, but…you’ve got to live your life the way that makes you happy, Will and I know that makes you happy.”

“Did.”

“What?”

“It did make me happy. I’m lucky to have all of it, I know that. But…We used to talk about all of the stuff I would do; how I’d have a huge house with a pool, see Paris at night, vacation in Italy, all of that. But you know what? I always used to picture you there with me.”

“You know I said—“

“That you weren’t going with me. I know that and I got it. The thing is, though…I’m doing all of those things—all of those things and living the whole rock star lifestyle and… It doesn’t matter how long I was gone, how many places I went, how much I did, who I met, how many women I was with, where I knew I was going—None of it was what it should have been because you weren’t there.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m not going to be joining you and another woman in bed any time—well any time ever.”

“You’re not—you’re not getting it. I have more money that I need; women that every guy wants, want me; I have a huge vacation house—with a pool—in France; I’m up there on a stage and…I’m making my living doing what I’ve always wanted to do, Buffy.”

“Not really seeing the problem.”

“You’re the problem.”

“Gee, thanks,” she knew she sounded snide but she didn’t much care.

“You not being there is the problem. I get on stage and I want you there watching. I record a new song and I want to know what you think. I take two weeks to do nothing but hang around my house and I want you tempting me into the pool. I go back to my hotel room, back to wherever I’m staying and I want it to be you that’s going back with me. I’m having a shit day and I want you there making it all better just by smiling at me.”

“You could get Gwen to give me your schedule and the hotel numbers and I—“

“Yeah, you could call me. Or I could do what I’m doing.”

“What…exactly is that?”

“Coming home.”



***|***


TBC.......






more author's note...I'm writing some fics for the 'Art Before Fic' Challenge at Spuffy_Haven (on Livejournal)...once I decide just how much I want to break my 'finish writing fics before posting them' rule, I'll start posting here as well.......And no I have no idea if that had a point other than to let those of you who see the fics on LJ know when they'll be here

Chapter 5

“You can’t.”

Well, that was not what he had expected Buffy to say when she did finally responded to his proclamation. A question of his sureness, maybe; disbelief, sure. Not this, though. Not this…refusal.

“You don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?” Buffy asked.

“Whether or not we…that you can have a say it, but not this. I’m back whether you like it or not. You cannot just bar me from town because you don’t want me around anymore.”

“Is that what you--? That’s not what I…I can’t let you do this, William.”

“This isn’t about you letting me do anything. I’m not asking for your permission. I’m moving back here and I thought I should tell you about it—silly me.”

William made to storm out of her living room. Her house. Her life.

But then he stopped himself.

This was Buffy.

He knew her.

“What’s happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked incredulously.

“You were always the one telling me not to be scared—telling me to go after what I wanted. And now…I thought you would want this Buffy; want me. The best I can figure is that you either have a boyfriend or…or you like me not being here. So, which is it, Buffy?”

“It’s not…I just…”

“Which one, Buffy?”

“It’s not either one, you moron!”

“Well,” he laughed, “then what is it?”

“I’m scared,” she admitted softly.

“Of who? Is somebody—I swear, if anybody’s hurting you I’ll kill them!”

There was her Will, again. Always so ready to go to war for her.

“No one’s…it’s not someone, Spike; it’s something.”

“Then I’ll fix it.”

Buffy had wondered before if she loved William so much in spite of his…whatever this was, or because of it. She had yet to decide.

“Don’t you think you should know what it is first?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said quickly; vehemently.

“Mind if I tell you anyway.”

“If you must.”

Buffy smiled and she wasn’t altogether too uncertain that it wasn’t the first time she had really smiled since that day she had realized that William was well and truly out of her life. And just what did that say about her that her happiness depended so much on him?

Well, for one thing, it explained what she was so scared of.

“I can’t take it again.”

“Take what again, love?”

“You leaving! That’s what I’m scared of, okay? You leaving.”

“Why would—I’m not going to leave, Buffy.”

“Yeah,” she said resignedly, “you will. You’ll have your fill of this little break thing, realize it’s not all you think it’s going to be and…you’ll get bored and restless and…and you’ll leave again, William.”

“You think this is just some spur of the moment decision?” he wondered incredulously.

“I know you started this a few weeks ago, but—“

“A few weeks ago?!”

“Fine,” she conceded, “maybe a few months ago.”

“Few years is more like it! This album? This tour? All of it was to get ready for this ‘little break’ of mine, as you’re so keen to call it. I know what I’m doing, Buffy. I’m done with it.”

“You can’t just be done with a dream!”

“You can be when you realize there’s a better one; when you realize it’s not so much a dream anymore as a routine.”

“So you got sick of it?”

“Yes…and no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“The idea of it still holds a great allure, but…The reality…well the reality of it is, as much fun as I have, as much as I enjoy myself, I know there’s something more.”

“More what?”

“That I want.”

“And what’s that?”

“You. A life with you. Here.”

“And just what is it your propose to do here?”

“You.”

“Funny.”

“Give me some credit here; I’d have something better if I had some sleep. ‘Sides, it’s true.”

“For work, though. What are you going to do for that?”

“I have enough money not to work.”

“Yeah, maybe. But we both know that after a few weeks you’d be crawling the walls.”

“I was thinking I could teach lessons—some piano, some guitar…stuff like that.”

“Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“So we just pick up where we left off.”

“I know we can’t do that—“

“I thought you said things didn’t change?”

“They—“

“Calm down, Will. I’m just giving you a hard time. It wasn’t a question—the us picking up thing.”

“What’re you saying?”

“If I’d known that all it took to confuse you was to give you what you wanted…”

“What about—“

“I say we decide everything else tomorrow; I’m thinking you could do with some sleep.”

“I don’t,” he said, sounding nervous, “I…I don’t have a hotel booked.”

“I figured as much. Do you have some sort of objection to staying here? With me?”





Both were prepared to use his extreme tiredness as an excuse for why nothing more would happen that night and they did in fact get William settled in Buffy’s old room and Buffy in her current room that used to be her mother’s. Yet, as it turns out, no excuse was needed.

It hadn’t been but ten minutes since Buffy had left Spike in her girlhood bedroom and gone to the one that had been hers for several years now, that she was returning to, what was for that night at least, William’s room.

Buffy didn’t give much thought to her actions which, in this case, was perhaps a good thing; she didn’t give herself time to think about repercussions or timing or anything other than the knowledge that after so long away, William was back.

Not only was he back, but he was ten feet away sleeping in her old bed.

For seven years he had been hundreds if not thousands of miles away from her and now
their separation could be measured in inches.

It would be crazy, not to mention torturous, to maintain any physical distance between them now.

It was with that thought, and only that thought, on her mind that Buffy slowly made her way to Spike’s room, stopping in the doorway.

Buffy started to say something but then realized that she didn’t know what she wanted tos ay; what she wanted to ask. Luckily, though, while Spike did not look like he had been expecting her, he also did not look all that surprised by her presence either and was soon lifting the blanket on his side in a silent invitation.



Spike had forgotten just how good it felt to hold Buffy in his arms. He had known there was something special about it, of course, and knew that nothing with any other woman ever came close to it, but…

Some things memories just couldn’t do justice.

Spike turned so that he was face to face with Buffy and when his lips sought out hers without thought, they both knew that something so natural and easy couldn’t be denied. Buffy still wasn’t sure how it was going to work, but this time…

This time she knew it would work.



Their lovemaking that night was slower, more gentle than it ever had been before; even taking into consideration the night that Buffy had been awoken at three in the morning by Spike throwing rocks at her window, the night that he told her that she was what h would give it all up for.

Seven years apart could have brought a rushed, frenzied effect to their coupling that night but instead of feeling as if they were making up for lost time, both knew that they were instead giving birth to something new. To a relationship that, this time, would last.

They would last.


**********|**********



TBC.......please review :)

Chapter 6


Buffy awoke slowly in the morning, still not completely letting herself believe that Spike was going to be there next to her, even as she felt his body wrapped around hers.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Spike’s voice broke through her thoughts, assuring her once and for all that he was still there.

“Yeah? Do I have to?” Buffy asked, smiling at him.

“If you want breakfast you do.”

“You’re going to make me get up for breakfast?”

“Nope. Just want you awake before I do down to make it so you don’t think I’ve left you once you do decide to wake up.”

Well, he certainly knew her.

“I don’t have to actually get up yet?”

“No.”

“Then I’m awake. Now, go make me breakfast!”

“Yes, princess,” Spike tried to sound put out, but the grin on his face belied any annoyance in his tone.



Spike knew that there were a number of things that he and Buffy needed to talk about; many, many things, in fact. Right now, however, he just wanted to make his girl breakfast and pretend that this was a normal, non life altering decision involving morning.

There would be time for the future after bagels and bacon.




Buffy stretched languidly, smiling in delight at how several of her muscles protested. This was what mornings were supposed to be like. This was how you were supposed to wake up in the mornings.

She hoped Spike knew where the food was because there was no way she was going to get up and help him find it. Not yet. Not right now while she was basking.

And yes, that was what she was doing.

She could hardly believe that Spike had really given everything up just to come back and be with her. It was…amazing in the truest sense of the word.

He…she just did not have words for it.

He had looked at things and seen that on one hand he had everything he had dreamed of for twenty years and on the other he had her and…

Suddenly, with a type of realizations she had never experienced before, Buffy knew what she had to do.

And sadly, it was going to require getting out of bed.



Spike was happy to find that Buffy’s eating habits had not changed; there were still bagels and a package of bacon in the freezer and salmon and cream cheese in the refrigerator.

Thawing out the bacon took the longest of all, but soon her had everything almost ready to return upstairs. All he had to do now was pour Buffy some juice and find himself something to drink. Just a few more—

“Buffy?”

“Hi,” she said perkily before becoming more subdued looking. “I need to tell you something.”

Why did this sound like he was really not going to like what it was she had to say?

“Actually, it’s more like ask you something and then tell you something.”

“Okay,” he said uneasily. “Do you want to…do you want to eat first.”

“Sure, but uhm…down here?”

Now, that didn’t sound good either. Not at all.

“Yeah, sure.” Spike moved their food from the tray over to her small kitchen table and then going back to get their drinks while they sat down.

“You always made such great breakfasts.”

“Well, you always helped by actually eating things.”

“True.”

“Buffy—“

“William—“ they said at the same time after a moment’s pause.

“You first,” he said.

”Ever the gentleman,” Buffy remarked idly. “Will…what are you going to do here?”

“Teach some music lessons. Know it won’t make much, but I’ve got money too, so…”

“Won’t you get…I don’t know…bored?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“And what about us?”

“I told you: I want you, yeah, but whatever happens, I’m staying. This isn’t me trying to push you into something by saying ‘we’re together or I’m gone’. I love you, Buffy and though I’d give anything to be with you again….”

“June.”

“What?” How did ‘June’ relate to anything?

“Give me this year—school year—to finish things up and then we’ll go.”

”Go?” Sure he didn’t sound…literate at the moment, but Spike had no idea what Buffy was on about.

“Tour, recoding, all that. You and me, we’ll do that. Or, well, you’ll do it and I’ll be with you.”

“Buffy—“

“I know that sooner or later you’ll want that life again and…if you can give it all up to come back here then…I just need to finish up the school year, but then—“

“Then nothing, Buffy. You’ve got a good life here, Buffy; you’re happy.”

“But you’re happy with your life, too,” she protested.

“Not without you!” he yelled without meaning to.

“Exactly!”

“Buffy,” he tied again.

“Fine, five years.”

“Five years what?”

“We stay until June, give me long enough to get things taken care of, and then…”

“So what? You hang out on the plane with me? Spend your days in hotel rooms while I’m off doing interviews? What kind of life is that, Buffy?”

“Your kind,” she answered simply.

“Yeah, for me! I’m the one doing everything, that’s why it’s fun.”

“It won’t be forever,” she explained. “I’ll be with you and it will be fun for me to experience all of that with you.”

“Three.”

“Three what?” it was her turn to be confused.

“Three years, not five.”

“What?”

“That’ll give me time for two albums and a tour in the middle. Then,” he said defiantly, “though, we’re coming back here and having kids.”

“And you don’t think we should get married before we have kids? Being a rockstar really has gotten to you, hasn’t it?”

“Not at all. We’re getting married before June.”

“That so?”

“It is.”

“Well okay then.”

“Bacon’s getting cold, luv.”




Buffy had a lot more fun than even she had anticipated while ‘living the rockstar life’ with Spike as she liked to say. They stayed in London and even a bit in New York while he was recording his albums, she spent some time at his French vacation home while he was on tour and spent other parts with him. She’d seen more of the world than she ever expected to and had reveled in seeing Spike so unbelievably happy.

Now, though, the three years were up and they were finishing getting ready for the farewell party of sorts that his record label was throwing them in London.

“You almost ready, pet?”

“Yep,” Buffy answered, handing Spike a necklace to put around her neck. “Thanks. Oh, I have something to tell you…after the party.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“What?” Buffy asked innocently.

“Telling me but then not telling me. I’m going to spend all night wondering now.”

“Exactly. Now come on, we’ll be late.” Buffy headed for the hotel room door, ready to get to the party on the hotel’s roof so that they could get back to their room and she could share her news with Spike.

“Tease.”

“You know it.”

Buffy couldn’t wait until they were ale to get back to their room so that she could tell Spike that their little ‘go back to Sunnydale and have our kids’ plan was being moved up a little bit, to, oh say….seven months from now.

She knew she was ecstatic and could only guess how Spike would react.

She really was glad he had taken the initiative and returned to Sunnydale that day.


THE END