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Chapter 5

Spike lay awake for a long time wondering why he didn’t feel as satisfied as he should. Sex with Buffy, it was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? What she’d wanted? They’d waited long enough - both of them were fit to burst with the UST. Hell, they’d even said those words of love that he’d thought were so important. Then why did he feel almost as if he’d used her?

She woke up some time during the early hours and found him standing at the window smoking a cigarette. Something he didn’t do very often these days. He stubbed it out and flipped it out of the window. Sitting up, she held out her arms to him and called him back to bed.

He looked at her long and hard before he went, sitting himself on the bed beside her.

“What’s up? Face hurting?”

“Yeah, just got some more painkillers. Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be?” She pulled the sheet over her breasts, pushed back her hair. Squinted at him in the half-light. “Spike?”

“You sure you’re okay, Buffy? I mean that thing with Angel yesterday, got to affect you hasn’t it?”

She moved herself closer, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning her head on it.

“Last night, after Angel left, you were wonderful.”

“So were you.”

Another pause.

“But?”

“No buts. Not really.” He put his arm around her and leaned back against the headboard, taking her with him “I was just having a guilt attack. Sort of felt like I should have given you a bit of space between me and Angel. I just wanted you too much. Selfish, I guess.”

“Selfish, not you Spike.” She shook her head at that. “You’ve probably got your faults, like we all have, but that’s not one of them. And it’s been a long time since I slept with Angel.”

“I know, but yesterday was a bit of an emotional roller coaster, wasn’t it?”

“And you think what? I was trying to prove something? Stake a claim? What?”

He didn’t answer. This was the kind of conversation it was so easy to mess up, say the wrong thing. And he didn’t want to do that, not now.

She gave him a few moments and then she continued, in a voice slightly less sure than before. “Please don’t tell me that you regret what we did.”

He caught the change in her tone and the slight stiffening of her body against his and instantly regretted being the cause of it. “No, no, you mustn’t think I didn’t want you, Buffy, because I did, very much,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. It’s not you, it’s me. Just felt I should have had more control.”

“Oh, thank god.” She relaxed again, her fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt. “I love you Spike, and I love what we did. And,” she gave a small laugh. “If we try and psychoanalyse my life so far we’re going to be here a long time. Why don’t you get undressed and come back to bed? Let’s just go forward from here, shall we?”

“You’re right.” He released her, pulled his tee shirt over his head and wriggled out of his jeans, then he lay down. The last thing he wanted was to give her any self doubt.

“I loved what we did, too, and I'm really proud of you love."

"D'you mean that, Spike?"

"With all my heart. Now, come here and give us a cuddle, you gorgeous thing, you. But mind my nose.”

“Poor baby,” she said lying beside him. “Thank you Spike, for everything. Want me to kiss it better?”

“That’d be nice. Did I mention that I love you too?”

“Yeah, but you can say it again if you want.”

“I love you, Buffy. And you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Quit worrying Spike. Now hold still while I kiss it better.”

“I meant my nose, Buffy.”

“I know. And I’ll get there. Eventually.”

-
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“Hey, you’ve got a stalker.”

“Have I? Let’s see.”

Spike put down his notebook and pen and hauled himself off the sofa. He crossed the room to where Buffy was working and squinted at the computer screen.

“That one.” Buffy pointed out the review. “Says she’d going to be your personal stalker unless you finish Random Hearts. You are going to finish it, aren’t you? It’s been weeks since you updated.”

“Yeah, I’ll finish it. Just doesn’t seem so important right now. But the only stalker I want is you.” He kissed Buffy’s cheek before returning to the sofa and throwing himself back down.

“Bloody plot bunnies, shagging all over the place at the moment. Can’t get ‘em down fast enough.” He picked up his notebook and chewed the end of his pen.

“Lucky you. I’m completely stuck on Chaos. And don’t you think you’re leaving a half finished work in progress on my site, mister. Your beta has spoken.” Buffy hit return, then leaned back and stretched. “That’s the updates done, thank god. Want a drink?”

“Sound’s good. Want me to do it?”

“No, I’ll do it. You get on with your shagging bunnies, or whatever.”

“Opened the wine earlier so it could breathe.”

“Breathing wine, eh? Aren’t we getting posh. Where I come from, the bottle’s disappeared before it’s had a chance to draw a single breath. Hey, maybe I should get the butler to do it?”

She ducked as a cushion sailed past her head and took herself off to the kitchen to find the wine. Trailer park living had hardly run to wine, let alone wine that breathed. And never the kind of wine that Spike always turned up with. She had no idea how rich he actually was. Not that it mattered, but it certainly didn’t show in the way he dressed, or the things he owned. No flashy car or designer furniture. And he didn’t have any outrageously expensive hobbies or go on exotic holidays that she knew of.

But whenever he bought something it was always the best. They’d had many an argument in the supermarket over him filling the cart with what she called ‘posh’ food, or if she was feeling snarky, ‘pretentious’ food. He always countered by saying that if a thing was worth doing, it was worth doing properly. And of course, that he’d pay.

She filled the glasses and took a sip, rolled the wine around her tongue and made sipping noises like she’d seen them do on television food programs, and then she nearly spat it all over herself as she spotted him standing in the doorway smirking at her.

“Will you quit sneaking up on me. You scared me.”

He laughed, took the glass of wine she offered him and followed her back to the living room. She sat on the floor, her head resting against the sofa. Spike lay down again.

They sat with each other for a few moments, neither of them speaking. Like you do when you’re content and comfortable enough with someone to just enjoy the silence. They didn’t get much of that with Dawn around. When she wasn’t talking or watching television, she was banging away on the keyboard that Angel had bought her. So times like this were to be savoured.

The restful ticking of the clock. The posh wine. Spike winding a lock of her hair through his fingers. Even the road outside had gone quiet.

She tipped her head back to look at him and he leaned over and gave her an upside-down kiss.

“Makes a change though, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“Me scaring you.”

“When did I ever scare you?” She sat up a little, tried to look indignant at the thought, but ended up frowning instead.

“Oh, lots of times love. Gave me more than a few sleepless nights, I’ll tell you.”

“Don’t think I want to know.” She settled back down and brought her hand up to the back of his neck as he leaned over for another kiss. Held him in place until he pulled away.

A lovely, lazy evening coming up, filled with nothing but quiet talk and kisses. Touching, caressing, more wine. Maybe a movie. Then one of them would stand up and hold out their hand - it wasn’t always him - and they’d drift toward the bedroom with more kissing. He liked to whisper things, as men do when they’re so focused and he’d laughed his head off the first time she’d countered with words equally as dirty.

He liked her to surprise him.

Then they’d undress each other and fall onto the bed. Sometimes it would start slow and finish fast, sometimes they’d manage to keep a semblance of control for a decent amount of time. Always in the back of her mind was the thought that Dawn might wake up and come into the bedroom.

“I’m not still doing it, am I, Spike?”

“No, not any more. I’m sleeping very well, as a matter of fact.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Was that your mom on the phone?”

“My sister’s playing up again. They’re worried.”

“I’m sorry,” She replied squeezing his hand.

Another silence as they both lapsed into thought. He hadn’t told her a lot about his family but she knew that his sister was a recovering drug addict. In and out of the hospital. Knew he worried about her too.

“Tell me about where you come from, Spike. It’s one of those English villages you see in those PBS dramas, isn’t it? What’s she called – Miss Marple? Bet it’s got a duck pond and all?”

“Bang on the nail, complete with requisite ducks. Small village in Hampshire. Dad’s an accountant and mum does good works. Very Miss Marple. How about you?”

“Trailer park in Cecil County, Maryland. And if I ever see my father again in this lifetime then it will be too soon.”

“And your mum?”

“In and out. She can only take my dad in small doses, you know?”

“Is that why you ran off with Angel?”

“Partly.” She left it at that. It was all so much water under the bridge. The important thing about mistakes was that you learned from them, and then you moved on. They were both making an effort, her and Angel, mainly for the sake of Dawn. Angel was finding it hard, she could tell that, but to give him his due, he’d managed to keep himself under control, so far, and give her the space she needed.

And with Spike it just got better every day.

“How’re your computer payments going?”

“Oh, great. I’ll own it in like, a million years. That’s the nice thing about layaway.”

“Oh well.” Spike winked At her. “Good job you’ve got a birthday coming up. Wanna watch something on TV?”

“Yeah. Little Women’s on, just remembered, original version too. Do you mind?”

“I love it, stick it on, then come up here.”

As she turned on the movie she had no idea whether he really liked it or not, but it was nice that he had such a wonderful ability to just go with the flow. Between Angel and her there’d always been such a battle of wills over everything. Neither of them had ever been able to let anything go, even a simple thing like choosing which movie to watch.

She flicked on the TV and found the movie channel, then she fetched the wine bottle, refilled their glasses and settled in next to Spike.

“You sure you don’t mind this?”

“It’s fine. You gonna stay sober, or shall I?”

“Nice try, Spike. It’s your turn. Shh. It’s started.”

Something else she loved about him. The way he’d accepted that Dawn was a part of their relationship, and everything that went with that. The restrictions it put on their sex life for one, and the fact that one of them had to stay sober so that there was a responsible adult around in case she needed them.

She cried at Beth’s death, like she always did, but this time it didn’t seem so bad with Spike to hold her and wipe away her tears. He seemed content to just be with her, although by the end of the film he was starting on the buttons of her shirt.

“Spike, what if Dawn wakes up?”

“Better move to the bedroom then.”

“Is that all you ever think about?”

“Mostly, you coming?”

He may be kind, considerate Spike but he was just like any other man when it came to sex. The one track mind, the glazed over expression. He’d never force himself on her, but he was pretty damned persuasive when it came to this. And pretty damned hard to resist. Not that she wanted to of course.

She let herself be pulled up, grabbing at her wine and drinking it down. Giggled as the alcohol kicked in and she fell back down again. Shrieked as he picked her up and strode determinedly to the bedroom, dropped her on the bed and got to work on his own clothes. Lay back and watched lazily as his clothes fell away.

By the time he lay down beside her and started on hers she was feeling like a breathless sixteen year old again. Trembling as he touched her all over, first with his hands then with his lips. Then she remembered that she was a woman of twenty three and good at this, so she flipped him over and did the same for him.

She loved it when he lay there, completely at her mercy, telling her to have her wicked way with him. Sometimes the words were sweet and poetic and the lovemaking would be a slow burn, building in gentle waves that washed over them as they rocked together. Sometimes he just told her exactly what he wanted and she’d be more than happy to oblige. Then the passion would be hungry and consuming and they’d forget that Dawn was in the next room and just abandon themselves to the sheer, lusty pleasure of it.

But afterwards it was always the same. They’d hold each other and try to remember what breathing normally felt like, and they’d talk. There was something special about lying quietly in the aftermath that went beyond what they’d just done.

His hot, sweaty body was a solid reminder of his strength and presence in her life. Telling her that she no longer had to shoulder her burdens alone. And the words of love weren’t just spoken in gratitude, they were also a reassurance and a promise. Telling her that he’d loved her for a long time, he loved her now and he always would.

She snuggled against him, loving the way he smelled after sex and feeling stronger than she had done for a long time. And safe. Wrapped here in his arms she felt as if nothing in the world could touch her. She needed to brush her teeth, take off her make-up, but she didn’t move. That could wait until after he’d fallen asleep. Right now the most important thing for her to do was to just lie there, be peaceful and love him.

-------------------------------------------------

“Come on niblet, time for school. Ready for inspection?”

Dawn’s beaming faced looked up at him and she went off into a fit of giggles as he tapped her on each cheek, her chin and then her nose.

“You’ll do, come on.”

“Mommy always makes me wash. You never do.”

Spike picked up his keys and slipped his wallet into his pocket. “Then we’ll have to keep it a secret, won’t we? Out you go.”

She bounded ahead of him and as they turned the last corner of the stairs, Spike was vaguely aware that his phone was ringing but he didn’t go back. The preschool that they’d got Dawn into was only a few minutes walk away. Whoever it was could wait.

When they got to class he dropped down on one knee and looked Dawn in the eye.

“Okay, Dawn. How does it go?”

Dawn looked serious for a moment then recited her little mantra.

“You always come back.”

“And do you believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Off you go then, sweetheart. See you later.”

Spike caught the teacher’s eye who mouthed ‘she’ll be fine’ at him and took Dawn’s hand and led her towards a group of children who were playing in the sand box. He watched from a safe distance for a few moments before leaving her, happy that she seemed to have settled at last.

She’d found it surprisingly difficult at first, particularly with the initial parting at the start of the session. Like most kids, she’d usually settled down by the time he’d left the building, but with Dawn he knew she wasn’t just putting on a show to make them feel guilty. Whether it was him or Buffy, she had seemed to find it genuinely traumatic to say goodbye. Almost as if she believed she’d never see them again if they were out of her sight. It wasn’t surprising really, given the reclusive life she’d led with Buffy, holed up in that apartment for so long, seeing no-one, probably internalising all the trauma going on around her.

But she was a fighter, he knew that much. Because she’d had to be. And he thanked god for her because she’d been the only thing that had kept Buffy going when they’d first moved in.

When he got back he spared a glance at Mrs. G.’s door, raised a hand to knock then dropped it again. Hell, his next chapter was never going to get written at this rate. He took the stairs two at a time, thinking that he’d have himself a little Spike time this afternoon. A thousand words, then off to the gym, that should give him enough time to make sure he wasn’t late for Dawn. He clicked his answer machine as he re-entered his apartment, threw his keys down and looked around for his notebook.

One new message. It was Mrs. G. Spike immediately felt a huge pang of totally irrational guilt. Short of having her move in with them he couldn’t think what else he could have done to look after her any more than they did. But still, he should have knocked. Hadn’t seen her for two days now, and heck, she didn’t sound good. The message was a little garbled to say the least so he grabbed his keys again, locked up and went downstairs.

She opened the door, eventually. By the time she did, he was imagining all manner of bizarre fates that may have befallen her and so he had to do a mental double take when just –as- she-usually-was Mrs G. appeared.

Her face lit up when she saw him and he was clutched in a surprisingly strong grip and pulled inside. The usually neat apartment was a mess, boxes and open suitcases littered the place. Clothing strewn about the chairs. Every cupboard door was open and the contents piled in stacks on the floor.

Mrs. G. stood calmly beside him as he took it in. It wasn’t just a mess, he could see that. Something was going on here, the whole place was buzzing with the kind of energy he’d never felt around her before. She’d always given off a feeling of finality. Completion. Exactly what you’d expect from someone so old who’d done everything and was, well, finished. But this? It was radiating off her. Excitement, change, new beginnings.

He turned to her and cocked his head, raised his eyebrows as realisation dawned and she folded her arms and gave him a satisfied smile. As if she was pleased that he’d picked it up without her having to explain it, or justify it.

“Do you think I’m mad, Spike?”

His arm went around her shoulders in response and he surprised himself by almost breaking up when he answered her.

“We’re gonna miss our surrogate granny. When are you going?”

“As soon as I get organised. Jack’s terrible at all this stuff, always leaves it all to me. Will you stay for tea?”

He didn’t really want to, but he did. So much for Spike time. But that didn’t seem to matter so much. This moment, seeing Mrs. G. so excited and happy, so hopeful after the confusion and despair that she’d been spiralling down into, was like a gift. And not just because he was a writer.

She was going home to end her days in England as she’d always talked about and all he could do was sit there and bask in the pure joy that radiated from her.

“I’m really pleased for you.”

She handed him his tea and sat opposite him. “I know you are, Spike. And thank you.” Her voice broke a little too as she spoke to him. She stirred her tea and stared into the cup for a moment before continuing.

“I’ve really appreciated everything you’ve done for me.”

Spike nodded, and they drank their tea, each of them lost in their thoughts.

Mrs. G.’s lip still trembled and her hand still shook but she carried about her now such a sense of purpose. You needed that. A goal, a dream, something to reach out to, something to walk towards. No matter how disillusioned you became, or how old you got. But you also needed to remember to be there for the journey. To touch people along the way. Smell the roses. To feel the road beneath your feet and the sun at your back.

It would have been so much easier to have walked past her door, to ignore the batty old lady with her improper suggestions and strange habits. But he was glad he hadn’t. He wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

At some point, Buffy arrived, walking slowly into the apartment and giving the jumble of belongings the same look of wide-eyed wonder that Dawn might have.

Spike wasn’t even aware that she was there until he felt her hand on his shoulder. He leaned his cheek against it, relishing the contact, aware that Mrs. G. was smiling benevolently at them, and suddenly he knew exactly what he had to do.

There are times in life when things shift and change, move forward or even backwards. Time when you come to a junction in the road and you have to choose whether to go left or right. And it’s at times like that when you make your big decisions. And the important moments of life aren’t always accompanied by flashing lights and crashes of thunder. Sometimes they are very quiet and very unassuming. So that if you blinked, you’d miss them.

Sitting there, in that old lady’s apartment, among the debris of her life, Spike seized the moment and made the most important decision of his life.

---------------------------------------------------------

“I thought she was never going to let us go.”

Buffy relieved Spike of the stack of clothes that he was carrying so that he could unlock the door, then she followed him in and dumped them onto a chair.

“Kind of sad to see her leave, though.”

“Yeah, and you are gonna look so sexy in these.” Buffy held up the enormous pair of trousers that Mrs. G. had insisted they take, and laughed at Spike’s expression.

“In your dreams, woman.”

“Nightmares more like.” Buffy refolded them thinking they could go to a charity shop when Mrs. G. had gone. It was amusing that Mrs. G. should ever think that Spike would wear the things, but she’d been struck by the care with which the old woman had chosen what to give away. Buffy had guessed that she hadn’t just been giving them clothes and mementoes, she’d been giving them memories too. Things that meant a lot to her from times when she’d been happy. She was just trying to pass that happiness on.

And there was Spike, standing in front of her, looking at the small box containing Jack’s war medals. Mrs. G. had been adamant that he have those, even though he’d tried his best to refuse. She’d folded his hand around them very determinedly and said he was to take them. So he had.

“Can I see?” Buffy moved beside him and peered into the box, leaned against him as his arm went around her. “Do you know anything about medals?”

“Not a thing. I think he was a pilot.”

“Yeah, she’s got a picture of him in his uniform.”

Spike snapped the box closed and brought his other arm around her. Took that half-step that would bring him even closer.

Buffy closed her eyes and breathed him in. He felt different somehow. Not in a bad way, but there was something. She’d felt it the moment that she’d walked into Mrs. G.’s apartment. Like he was hovering on the edge of something really important.

She shifted a little so that she could see into his face, and he let her look. Preparing her for the words that would follow. Because she knew exactly what he was going to say. Maybe it was the nostalgia of seeing Mrs. G. amongst the things that had defined her life. Maybe it was the mixture of happiness and sadness that she’d felt at Mrs. G.’s departure. The fact that this step that Mrs. G. was taking was to be both a new beginning for her and also her final one. Perhaps it was just that bizarre moment when Mrs. G. had got out Jack’s ashes and asked them if he should go in her suitcase or her hand luggage.

Whatever it was, Buffy was feeling it too. The slightly surreal sense of unreality that was still clinging to them. That strange feeling that they’d somehow stepped outside of the everyday flow of things.

She’d only felt it a couple of times before. Once at a funeral when she’d suddenly been struck by a frightening sense of her own mortality, and once when she’d gone to Niagara Falls and for a split second it had been just her and the thundering water.

And now.

When the answer is ready then the question can be asked. She was nodding her head before he’d even started speaking and by the time he’d asked her to marry him she’d already said yes.

They both heaved sighs of relief, settled against each other and waited for the world to resume its normal speed. Spike whispered thank you against her cheek but Buffy remained quiet. There were no words for what she was feeling so she didn’t even try.

Mrs. G. had crossed an ocean to be with Jack. Spike had only had to cross the landing. And at times it had felt like a million miles. But he was here now, in her arms. Together they’d found something worth hanging onto for the rest of their lives.

All she had to do was hold on tight, and never let him go.

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Epilogue

“Where did they say she was?”

“Over there, I think.” Spike pointed across the churchyard to the small row of cottages that ran along its boundary. “Number 28.”

“Will she be all old and wrinkly now, mommy?”

“She already was, sweetie. Do you remember Mrs. G?”

Dawn screwed up her face and thought hard for a moment. “A little bit. Will she remember me?”

“Of course she will, and she’s going to love those flowers.”

Dawn skipped on ahead, totally unconcerned that they were in a graveyard.

Spike reached for Buffy’s hand.

“So, what do you think of good old England then?”

“It’s nice.” Buffy looked around at the picturesque scene. The old mediaeval church, the churchyard with its crumbling gravestones, the honeysuckle tumbling over the dry-stone wall. “I mean, look at this. It’s almost as if it knew an American was coming. And your parents living in a house with a straw roof? That’s something else.”

“It’s called a thatch. And I’m glad you got on so well with them.”

“They’re sweet. Are we going to get to meet your sister?”

“I hope so. She’s not doing so good. I’ll call her again tonight.”

“Can I ring the bell, mommy?”

“Go ahead, love.”

They arranged themselves in front of the door, each of them waiting to see the expression on Mrs. G.’s face when she answered it.

Dawn stood, flowers at the ready, a big grin plastered across her face and the loud groan she gave when it wasn’t Mrs. G. that answered the door made them all laugh.

“She’s in the garden.” Mrs. G.’s slightly, but not much younger cousin, greeted them warmly and led them down the long corridor, through the back kitchen and into the garden. “I told her you were coming, but she keeps forgetting. She showed me the photographs of you though. There she is.”

The old lady stepped back and the little group approached Mrs. G. Cautiously, so as not to startle her as she dozed in the chair.

Dawn tilted her head and stared at the old woman, then she looked back at Buffy. “Is she dead, mommy?”

“No, of course not Dawn, just a bit sleepy, I think. Mrs. G.?” Buffy crept nearer and tapped her lightly on the arm. “Mrs. G. It’s Buffy. Do you remember me?”

Mrs. G. stirred and straightened herself slowly. It was a good few minutes before she seemed to realise that she had visitors. In the meantime, they all seated themselves on the garden chairs and Mrs. G.’s cousin reappeared with a tray of refreshments.

“Have you seen who’s here Edna? It’s Spike and Buffy from America. You know, I told you they were coming?”

“Are they?” Mrs. G.’s eyes became very wide as realisation dawned. She looked from Buffy to Spike then reached out her hand to Dawn. “Come here, sweetheart and let me look at you. I can’t believe how much you’ve grown.”

Dawn skipped forward and presented her flowers, obviously pleased at the compliment. “We thought you were dead, didn’t we mommy?”

“No, we didn’t Dawn,” Buffy replied in a slightly horrified voice. But Mrs. G didn’t seem to have noticed. She reached out and took Buffy’s hand and then she spotted the ring.

“You’re married. I’m so pleased, my dear. Who’s the lucky man?”

“Spike, Mrs. G.”

“Spike? Did I know him?”

“He’s here, Mrs. G. Do you remember he used to be you landlord?”

And so the conversation continued in similar vein for the next half an hour until Mrs. G. fell asleep once more. They chatted to Mrs. G.’s cousin for a while, enjoying the afternoon sun, and they never were sure if Mrs G. ever recognised Spike or not. She called him Jack several times, but then, she’d always done that. Eventually Dawn started fussing and they left to find a pub that served lunches.

Spike slipped his hand into Buffy’s and they strolled along the lane like any young couple in love. It always gave Dawn a fit of the giggles when he did that, for no reason he could ever work out, and he thought back to the first time he’d set eyes on her and Buffy.

It had rained in torrential sheets that day and the two of them had looked like drowned rats by the time they’d carried all their things up. She’d refused his offer of help and after they’d said goodbye to the young man who’d arrived with them they’d locked the door and he hadn’t seen them again for over a week.

The next time, Buffy had been sitting on the top step, and it was the first time he’d seen her cry. She hadn’t even bothered to wipe the tears away as he led her into her apartment and sat her down. They’d stayed like that for over half an hour before he’d patted her on the shoulder and left, not knowing what else to do.

And so it had gone on. She’d told him to go repeatedly in those early days, but he’d hung in there because he’d always known that they were meant to be together. Maybe it had just been a romantic notion at first. He was her knight in shining armour and it was his destiny to fight off those dragons and save her. He’d been like a guardian angel standing between her and her demons. And then he’d fallen in love with her.

“Didn’t she look old. And Edna? No wonder she never told us her first name.” Buffy’s expression turned wistful for a moment. “But I’m glad we came, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Don’t think she knew who I was though. I think it was Dawn she remembered most.”

“Yeah, got a nice photo of them together. I want Dawn to remember her too.”

“She will. Here’s the pub. You grab a table, I’ll go look for a menu.”

Buffy sat at the table in the pub garden, watching Dawn approach the play area. She stood for a few moments until a girl of about the same age bounded up to her and within minutes they were playing as if they’d known each other all their lives. It was a sight Buffy had almost despaired of seeing at one point. The point where she’d hit rock bottom and she’d gone beyond caring if she ever left the apartment again.

Then Spike reappeared carrying the menus. He stopped to make small talk with someone and as she watched him tilt his platinum-streaked head as he listened, a warm glow spread through her. A feeling of pride that this incredible man was hers and no-one else’s. And relief. That she’d had the good sense to take what he’d so insistently offered her. That she’d opened her eyes and seen him, after sleepwalking for so long.

“There you go. Food looks good.” He offered her the menu then stopped as he caught her gaze. “What?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Spike.” She leaned across and kissed him and he made a small sound of appreciation as he threw himself into it.

“D’ you think Dawn will stay with my parents tonight? Wanna take you out for a drive, show you all my old haunts.”

Buffy settled back down in her seat, opened the menu. “Sounds good. I’ll bribe her, that usually works.”

They perused the menus until she spoke again.

“D’ you think I’d make a good teacher, Spike?”

“Don’t see why not. You never told me you wanted to teach.”

“There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Spike. Do you think I could, you know, go to college at my age?”

“What, the ancient old age of twenty four? I think you could do just about anything you set your mind to, love. If it makes you happy then do it, you know I’ll back you up.”

“I think I’d like to. And I know you’ll back me up, you always do.”

“It’ll be hard work. What are you having then?”

“Tell me what isn’t. I’m going to try the Lancashire Hot-Pot. What is that?”

“Sort of a stewy thing. You’ll like it. Shall I go order?”

“Catch Dawn on the way. See what she wants.”

“What, on the off chance she doesn’t want chicken nuggets? I swear she’s gonna turn into one.”

Spike disappeared into the play area leaving Buffy alone at the table. The warm glow she’d felt when she’d watched him earlier was still there, so she closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sun and simply enjoyed feeling it.

Going to college, or even UCLA eventually, that was scary. And Angel? Much as she’d have liked a clean break from him, he was always going to be part of the equation because of Dawn. And she didn’t even want to think of the reconciliation with her dad that he’d so desperately pleaded for. Not now when everything was so perfect.

It wouldn’t always be like this, she knew of life’s ups and downs as well as anyone, but everyone’s allowed their moment. And this was hers. The universe has a gift for everyone, she only needed to remember to be still enough to receive it. So she did.

A moment of perfect calm. A moment of perfect peace.

Spike loves Buffy and Buffy loves Spike. That’s just how it should be. And in this story, that’s just how it is.



The End.
Thank You for Reading

For Kella





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