Spike’s eyes welled up with tears and he looked away from her. “Don’t say that,” he whispered.
She frowned and sat up,” Why? I thought you’d be happy to hear that—“
“I am, if you . . . Buffy, it’s not me you’re in love with. It’s Doyle and the idea that Doyle is inside me.”
She shook her head vigorously, “No, that’s not it at all, Spike.”
“Yes it is!” he exclaimed and jumped to his feet. “It’s why you put your hand over my heart and cried like you did…It’s because Doyle’s heart is inside me and you feel you’re reunited with him—“
“Son of a bitch, she was right,” Buffy breathed.
“What?”
“Anya. She said you’d think that—“
“You told her?”
“Yes, Spike, I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t supposed to say anything about your transplant. I just thought that – “
“That what? That since you guys have been ‘so close’ lately, you could just tell her?”
She jumped to her feet, “You ran out on me! I was upset!”
Spike shook his head, “I can’t do this right now, Buffy.”
She poked him in the shoulder, “You don’t have a choice.”
He gave her a look, “Oh really?” he drawled.
“Yes, really. I love you Spike. I love you for who you are, not because of Doyle’s heart. Not because of your heart transplant, not because your parent’s are dead – I love you for you, for who you are for how you make me feel.
Yes, Doyle is gone and yes, you have his heart, and yes a part of me will always love him, but Spike, that’s your heart now.
When I placed my hand over your chest, I admit, it was to see if I could feel Doyle—“
He started to walk away from her and she grabbed his arm, keeping him with her. “Listen to me,” she demanded.
He stopped and sighed heavily, “Buffy, Jesus, just let me go—“
“No. I just found you Spike. I lost someone I loved once already, I can’t lose you too. I won’t. Not when I know how happy we’d be. How happy we’ve already been.”
“It’s not real!”
“Yes it is! Do I need to hit you to get you to listen to me? God, do you realize how incredibly dense you can be?”
Without warning, he started to laugh.
She stared at him, not sure what to make of that. Surely the stress was making him mad.
“My aunt, she hit me upside the head today. Pretty much told me the same thing. It just—“ he shook his head as if to clear it, “Buffy, I never realized you had such a dominatrix side to you.”
She smiled, “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, yet.”
He looked down. “I have his heart, Buffy. How can you not look at me and think of him?”
“Because I look at you and see you. Spike, when I touched you, I didn’t feel Doyle. Yes, I was upset, I was in shock! It was . . . weird, for lack of a better word. Imagine if the shoe was on the other foot. Imagine someone told you that they had your loved one’s organ. And that’s all it is Spike. An organ. Your organ. No, I don’t think that Doyle is living on inside you, no, I don’t think that this is his way of being with me beyond the grave.” She paused, “Though Faith seems to think that this was Doyle’s way of making sure I was happy beyond the grave, and you know, I’m not superstitious like that. I used to make fun of Doyle for being like that, but I have to say . . . I think she’s right. Doyle is gone, Spike. He’s gone to a better place and I’d rather him there than here in some mystical form.
When I saw the hurt on your face after I did that this morning, I felt so hurt. I felt hurt for you, I felt hurt that I made you feel as if you were just some kind of vessel and that what we’d been through had just been some kind of sign from the heavens that Doyle had been returned to me. My concern was with you and how I’d hurt you.
Spike, please, believe me. I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I was afraid to admit it. I was afraid that if I admitted it then somehow it meant that Doyle would disappear, that I’d forget him. That’s not the case though and I know that now. He wouldn’t want me to wallow in misery and be alone. He’d want me happy and I really do believe now that Faith was right. He sent you to me. He knew we needed each other, he knew we fit. He also probably wanted to stick it to Anya—“
Spike laughed through the tears that were freely falling from his eyes. He stood there, open to him, vulnerable and so open. She couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around him and holding him tight.
“Please say you believe me, Spike. If you want, I can list all the ways I love you. I can tell you how I love the way you secretly listen to pop music, even though you vehemently deny it when I accuse you of bopping to the beat. I can tell you how I love the way you hold me when we’re falling asleep, and how I love how silky your curls are through my finger, how hot you look all greased up from working on the car. I can tell you how I love it when you smile and it brightens my day to see you—“
“Buffy, stop,” he said quietly.
She wouldn’t let him go though, she held on tight, afraid he was going to turn her away, afraid that her actions that morning had ruined it all; afraid he didn’t believe her.
“Do you believe me?” she whispered.
“Can you look at me?”
“I’m afraid to.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m afraid you’re going to turn me away.”
“Why would I do that?”
She felt a smidge of relief begin to spread through her. Just a smidge though. “Because you still have it stuck in your thick head that I only love you because of Doyle.”
“Are you saying I’m stubborn?”
“Nah, not at all.”
“But if I were . . . you love me for it though, right?”
“Absolutely. Course, I’ll tell you that now and then years from now when you’re being stubborn I’ll tell you how I always hated it.”
He laughed, “Will you now?”
“Yep. And then you’ll tell me how you always did think I was a bit of a crybaby, but never wanted to say anything because you wanted to get laid.”
He laughed harder, his body shaking in her arms and she giggled.
“Buffy, seeing as how you have our future arguments planned already, can you look at me now?”
Without releasing her hold on him, she leaned back slightly and looked up at him, up into the brilliant blue eyes of the man she’d come to love.
He smiled at her and Eskimo-kissed her. “I believe you, Buffy. It’s . . . not easy still, but I believe you. I love you so much and the thought of losing you—“
“Future arguments planned, remember? You won’t lose me.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
He pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair, “I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered hoarsely.
“You thought wrong.”
“It’s all so… surreal, you know?”
“I know, but we’ll work through it—“
“Together.”
She nodded, “Together. Spike?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Can you kiss me now? I’ve gone all day without—“
He cut her off by pressing his lips to hers in a hungry kiss, a kiss that poured his relief and love, and some residual fear that he could have lost her.
“Can we go inside and--?” She asked, breathless.
“Oh, God, yes. But, before we do . . . I have to tell you that you’re wrong.”
“Blasphemy! About what?”
“My heart . . .it’s not Doyle’s and it’s not mine. Buffy, my heart is yours.”
“Oh, you are so getting laid right now, buddy.”
Laughing, he swept her up in his arms and started for the door.