She’d looked everywhere; upstairs, down in the basement and every room in between. This was ridiculous, she’d chided to herself. There were only so many places a bleached vampire could hide. She tried to turn a blind eye to the picture her mind painted of him stolen away and chained up in another cave, a supersized and super strong ubervamp as his prison guard. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Ohh”, she whined quietly. They just couldn’t keep taking him away from her.

She poked her head in on a group of gossiping Potentials. “Have you guys seen Spike?”

She heaved a sigh when they replied with a chorus of, “No” and “Sorry, Buffy.”

She shot a look out at the pitch black outside, surprised when an anxious shiver shot down her spine.

Where could he be?

She tried to grip onto any sense of reason. It was night time. He was a vampire. And vampires equalled creatures of said night time. He was probably just out there doing his vampire-y thing. Yeah, that was it.

She tried to take a calming breath. But all it did was cause her heart to leap into her throat.

Oh God. They’d taken him again, she just knew it. Those ugly, vision impaired Bringers. She could picture it uncomfortably clearly; some horrible demon scraping more tribal symbols into his perfect skin and muscles. Buffy hurried to the front door in a frenzy, grabbing her coat and whatever weapons she could lay her hands on.

Gripping the door-handle, she jumped back with a startled gasp when it twisted under her grasp and the door swung open to reveal...Spike!

“Oh.” He stepped back in surprise at the sight of the broadsword clutched under her arm. “We gearin’ up for something?”

She could have hugged and squeezed the life of him in her relief.

“Where the hell have you been?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he swagged on inside and shut the door behind him. “Worried ‘bout me, pet?”

“No,” she deadpanned. “I just let myself get all beat up by a prehistoric super vampire to save your ass and then let you go gallivanting around all...willy-nilly!”

“Didn’t mean for you to worry, luv.”

Resting her weight casually on the sword, she blinked and pursed her lips. “...who said anything about worried?” She glanced away uncertainly as a silence descended on them.

“So!” He clapped his hands together and swiped a stake which protruded from her coat pocket. “Up for a patrol?”

~

It seemed to be a quiet night for demonic activity as Slayer and Vampire walked side by side through Restfield Cemetery. Noting a purpose in his stride, she let Spike lead the way. She was happy to hang back and follow him. It felt nice looking over a guy’s shoulder for once; Spike’s shoulder. The deep tranquillity of the night atmosphere was something she’d always enjoyed about patrolling, but she’d never realised how much better it could be sharing it with someone.

The path he was taking was a familiar one, and soon they were approaching the one crypt she could confidently say that she knew as well as the back of her hand. It saddened her that his once homely crypt now lay dark and abandoned. But it saddened her all the more that he was passing it without a second glance.

“Spike!” she called after him. “Don’t you...want to take a look?”

He turned to her with a look of indifference. “Not especially. Why?”

“It was your home. You lived here!” Approaching the crypt, she leant this way and that, trying to peek through the iron grills. “You must be the tiniest bit interested to see how it is.”

“Never pegged you as a sentimentalist, Slayer. ‘sides, I’ve had plenty of homes over the years.” He shifted impatiently. “Never would’ve gotten anywhere if I’d clung onto all of them now, would I? Come on, we’ve still got more ground to cover.”

“Better be careful there, Spike. Your old misery guts are starting to show in your old age—are those candles?” She bounded over to the door. “I’m gonna take a look!”

“Look, Slayer, we might as well just finish patrolling then you can—”

She crossed her arms adamantly. “Half an hour and we haven’t seen a single limb of demon. I don’t think we’ll be seeing any action tonight. I don’t know why you’re being all avoidy, it’s just a crypt.” She pushed the door open, wincing at the piercing grind of metal as the hinges protested.

She didn’t hear as he muttered, “Oh, balls,” and hurried after her.

“If I didn’t know any better,” she went on to say, “I’d say you were turning into Giles; all stuffy and slave-driver-y and...English.”

“Oi! I am nothing like your Watcher! I may be English...and a man... but that doesn’t make me one iota like Giles! He’s all—”

He bumped into her and she spun around sharply.

“Spike, what—what is this?”

To be continued...

She’d seen candles alright.

Various ledges and corners of the crypt had been filled with assortments of them. It was even more warm and homely that she’d remembered. The floor had been covered in layers of those luxurious Persian rugs, similar to the ones which had adorned the lower level. The single-seater couch stood in the middle of the space and had a couple of rich blankets draped over it. Some plush cushions rested against its base. But what caught Buffy’s attention was the television. Or lack of television. The screen had been smashed and the electronics gutted out, and in their place a wood-burning fire had been lit. The sound of the gentle pop and crackle filled the crypt.

She wandered further inside, taking it all in. “What is this? Is there...someone living here?”

Spike sighed behind her and pushed the door shut.

“Plans never go the way they’re supposed to,” he murmured regretfully.

“What?”

He caught up with her, standing beside her in the middle of the room. “No one’s staying here. I—I did it.”

Already losing herself in the warmth, she looked at him with a puzzled, “Huh?”

“This is where I was before, when you were looking for me. I was going to bring you here after we finished the patrol; you know, have it all a ‘mysterious surprise’. Guess I should have taken the longer route first...oh.” He turned away suddenly, and headed towards the fridge where he bent down and rummaged for something.

Returning to her side, he presented her with a single long-stemmed rose, a burgundy ribbon tied round the stem. “Happy Birthday, Buffy. Sorry, it’s not much. And in a crypt. I just thought you might like to get away for a little bit; get some rest. Can’t fight the Big Bad if you’re dead on your feet now, eh?”

Speechless the whole time, she looked from the delicate flower, to the deep blue of his eyes, back to the flower and back to his eyes.

“Spike,” she whispered. “This...this is...thank you.”

Her birthday. She’d remembered when she’d woken up that morning, but no one had said anything, and what with training the Potentials and worrying about the First, somehow it had slipped her mind. But Spike had remembered. The thought warmed her He looked bashful as she smiled her gratitude.

“Come on, Slayer.” He led her to sit down on the couch. “What do you fancy? Cup o’ hot chocolate? Nabbed some o’ those mini marshmallows from your place.”

“That’d be nice.” She curled up on the blankets, stroking the delicate petals of the rose before laying it down on a cushion beside her. “You know, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“Nonsense, luv.” He pulled out a thermos and mugs, going about pouring her a drink. “Just ‘cause we all got stuck in the house that one time, doesn’t mean that we should just forget ‘bout our Slayer’s special day.”

“You went to so much trouble,” she mused quietly. “But I have to say I was wrong, this isn’t just a crypt. It’s your crypt. Spike’s comfy crypt.”

He chuckled as he handed her the drink and settled down on the rugs at her feet. He looked up at her with that boyish expression and she had a sudden urge to run her fingertips through his platinum locks. She wandered if it still had that same silky texture as it did during their brief affair.

Of course it would, but it couldn’t hurt just to find out.

Instead though, she slid down to join him on the floor, resting comfortably against the couch and pile of cushions. Resting her head on the seat, she watched the crackling fire before turning her attention to the blond beside her. She’d never had the opportunity to be so aware of her surroundings before, to be able to take in and appreciate every single detail. She just felt so...warm.

And it was all because of Spike.

She took another sip of her drink and smiled at the thought.

“What are you thinking about in that pretty head o’ yours, Slayer?”

She sighed contentedly. “Everything, I suppose. This.” She gestured around them and added light-heartedly, “And where you got these rugs from!”

She looked at him with mischievous eyes before feeling around for the edge of the top rug and manoeuvring herself underneath it.

Amused, he watched on. “Buffy, luv, what are you doing?”

“Reliving the old days,” she giggled. “How can you resist?” She lifted another edge, inviting him to join her. “Although, in the old days I guess we... didn’t really wear anything...” Arranging the cushions against the base of the couch, she snuggled down and took another sip. “Hmm, this is perfect.”

He rested his arm on the seat of the couch behind her head. His fingertips brushed her hair and she shifted in a little closer.

He chuckled. “Huh. The old days. Things seemed simpler back then.” He twitched a cheeky eyebrow and his eyes smouldered, “More fun too.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and suppressed an embarrassed grin. “Yeah, when you could actually hit the Big Bad that didn’t look like you and other dead people.”

They shared a laugh and settled into a comfortable silence.

“You know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” She reached over to brush an imaginary bit of lint from his t-shirt and felt his body shudder as he released a shaky breath. “And I don’t just mean the whole...sleeping together. But before that, it was nice. We were like...friends. Confidantes. I guess... I miss that.” Her smile was laced with melancholy.

He watched her with careful eyes. “Buffy, those days, they don’t...have to be over.” He offered her his hand. “What do you say, Slayer, friends?”

She took it in a delicate grip, her thumb stroking his skin. “I thought we already were.”

To be continued...

And so they talked. Freely and openly. The thought was a constant at the back of their minds; that as much as they wanted to stay warm and comfortable in front of that fire, together, they’d have to go back soon.

So they tried to make the most of it.

Calming down from a bout of light-hearted laughter, Buff y pointed at him with a piece of chocolate coated marshmallow, “I have to say though, we were good together. Us against those lame-o vamps, they should have been choking on their dusty futures!”

Swallowing his mouthful of hot chocolate, he nodded with a giggle. “Or, we could have carried on with ourselves and brought their little shack of a hideout down on their heads.”

Buffy blushed at the memory of the past year which had seen a gang of vampires returning to their lair only to find the two of them caught like teenagers in a heated, groping session.

“Can you imagine what would’ve happened if it’d gotten out? William the Bloody and the Slayer...sleeping together.” She chewed thoughtfully on another marshmallow then added, “Actually....we never really did that.”

His eyes widened comically and he looked at her incredulously.

“Well, I mean, yes,” she correctly quickly. “We had...sex. But we never slept together. Not properly.”

“Oh.” Spike looked down at his hands, trying to hide the cloud of emotions running through his mind, “Yeah.” It was something he’d wanted to do right from the very start of their tumultuous relationship. He had always tried to get her to stay, just wanted to have her body curled next to his for a little longer. Perhaps this was as close to that as he’d get.

In the corner of his sight, he saw Buffy give him the most bittersweet smile. He tried to return it.

~

“I think about it sometimes.”

She’d said it so softly she thought he hadn’t heard her, but he turned and gave her a puzzled look.

“Sex?”

“No!” She gave his arm a playful punch. “You and your one track mind.”

He laughed and rubbed at his arm. “Sorry, luv. What is it that you think about?”

She looked straight in his eyes and whispered, “Heaven.”

His smile fell and his hand flew to take hers. “Buffy, sweetheart—”

“All this time I was trying to move on, trying to forget. I really did try my best.”

He nodded, hanging onto every word and watching her as if she were the only thing in the world.

“But sometimes I couldn’t help but think about...finding it again; just something that’d bring me close to what it was like. That feeling, you know? I guess I just wanted to have that feeling again.”

“Finding it again?” His voice cracked under the heavy emotion coursing through him. “Buffy, you mean you thought about—” He couldn’t bring himself to finish. She’d thought about dying again? The very thought broke his heart.

“No, Spike. No, not at all.” She shifted her body to face him fully. “I just wanted to tell you that I think I found it. I feel warm and I feel loved. I know I’m far from finished and that we’re in the midst of Hell, but here...now...you’ve given me a little piece of Heaven. I couldn’t ever thank you enough.”

Overwhelmed by her openness, he looked down shyly, a smile dancing across his lips. With a touch of uncertainty she reached out and tilted his chin up, bringing their eyes level. She saw his lips part, a sentence on the tip of his tongue. But somehow the warmth of his words hit her before they’d even been spoken, and so lost in the sight of him, she lunged forwards and pressed her lips to his. She felt him hesitate for a millisecond before melting into her touch.

His kiss spoke volumes. And so did hers.

Their lips felt scalded by a burning heat but they were powerless to break apart. It was addictive. Intoxicating. There was no search for dominance over the other, their bodies melded together in the most natural of ways; a gentle and effortless passion.

Spike wound a strong arm around her as she clutched at his shoulders and stroked the nape of his neck. With his free hand he pushed the couch back further, coaxing her to lie back on the cushions as she pulled his body impossibly closer and closer. Under the cover of the rug, she wrapped a leg around his thigh, unconsciously opening herself to him. Her body started to demand a regular flow of oxygen but she refused to stop kissing him. The fire was raging when he groaned and pushed himself a little harder against her pliant form. The movement of his lips was so sweet and cherishing, she moved her other leg up to his hip and soon his throbbing desire pressed flush against hers. So familiar was their position that she pulled away helplessly and breathed his name.

His eyes flashed open in realisation and he jerked up. “God,” he gasped. “I’m sorry.”

“No! It wasn’t—it was me...” Dazed, she took a deep breath. “Please don’t say sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

In the back of her mind, Buffy noticed that their bodies still touched intimately. But with his hips resting between her thighs, she’d never felt more at home. His expression read nothing but adoration with just a hint of confusion and his eyes fluttered when she reached up to tentatively stroke his scarred eyebrow.

“Will you do something for me?” she whispered.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Anything. You know you don’t have to ask me that.”

“Will you sleep with me tonight? Just sleep.” She stroked his jawline. “Share my bed.”

“Buffy, I don’t—”

He stopped quickly as he noticed tears gather in the corners of her eyes. They shone with hurt, but when she took another big breath, every inch of her radiated vulnerability.

Her bottom lip trembled and her voice quivered. “Will you look after me?”

An unneeded breath caught in his throat and he rolled off her, pulling her into a tight embrace. How he’d dreamed of such a moment, but at all of those times, he’d never thought of what it would mean. Buffy Summers, his strong and iron-hearted Slayer, letting down her guard and showing him the pure humanity at her very core.

“Oh, Buffy, I’ve always looked after you, pet.” He brushed his lips against her temple. “Please don’t cry, luv,” he murmured. “Does my heart in, it does. That night, when they brought you back, I told myself that I’d look after you, no matter what. That even though you might not want me there, I’d never leave your side. That summer, when you were gone, it was so hard, Buffy. I wanted to do right by you. I tried carrying on, I tried my best, but it was so hard without you. I tried to—”

She pulled away from his embrace suddenly. “I don’t want to be friends.”

He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as his heart plummeted inside his chest. “...oh, well I—”

“I want to love you, Spike. I want to be in love with you.” She rested her forehead gently against his. “I want to be so, so in love with you.”

He gasped as an enormous sob thundered through his body. Cupping her cheek in his shaking hand he breathed against her lips, “I love you, Buffy.”

“I can’t keep hiding anymore. Can’t keep loving you in secret.”

They indulged in a deep, sensual kiss.

“No more secrets,” she whispered. “I love you, Spike.”

~

So that night they shared Buffy’s bed. The simple intimacy of the act was everything they’d been searching for, waiting for. With the moon high in the sky, he did exactly what she asked for. He slept by her side, holding her in his arms.

They slept together.

But as the moon moved away and the first of the sun’s rays peeked over the horizon, her legs twined their way back around his hips and together they heralded in their new beginning with pleasured exclamations of their love.


Fin~