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Sixth

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“Don’t,” he said, opening his eyes slowly and looking out at the night on the other side of the threshold.

The front door was standing gaping towards a freedom he knew he would never have again. In that freedom all he did was grieve. He wanted to be locked down, wanted to be right where she was. And still the allure of the fresh air reaching out its fingers to stroke them over his cheeks was wicked and real. He took a breath of it, and it strengthened him.

Buffy felt her eyes grow after he had said that single word. Oh, no.

“Spike,” she tried hoarsely and at that he turned around to face her, his gaze holding hers firmly enough for her to feel as though a steel wire was forming in the air between them.

“Don’t you bloody well dare say that to me if you don’t mean it,” he stated warningly and she swallowed, her eyes growing rounder as he approached her. “If you’re not sure of what saying it’ll mean. If you’re not ready to take the consequences of saying it. If you even for a bloody second think that you might’ve said those words just to keep me here, then you’d better tell me, Slayer. Right now.”

She shook her head.

“You won’t tell me?” he asked.

She blinked at another batch of tears, looking up at him where he had stopped right before her.

“No,” she mumbled.

He closed his eyes and she could see the rising frustration, the leashed anger, and she reached up one hand and gently touched his forehead with her fingertips, letting them slide down his cheek before she moved her hand to his neck and entangled her fingers in his short strands. Putting her other arm up, she did the same thing with her right hand and took a step closer to him.

“No,” she repeated as he lazily opened his eyes to look into hers, growing wonderment on his face as he stared at her. “I didn’t say those words just to keep you here.”

He blinked, tilting his head slowly to one side as he eyed her and she observed him back. Carefully –as if frightened any movement would splinter the reality of that moment and make him wake up – he moved his hands and placed them on her back, pushing her a little closer.

If what she said was true...

He searched her face for the answer.

She looked so vulnerable... so frightened... and so open.

Finally he could see it. What he had waited to see ever since he first told her he loved her. All defenses were down. Her eyes wide open for him to read what he willed in them. She was showing him her heart. And in doing so telling him that she trusted him enough to not break it.

So, what she had said was true...

His mind couldn’t even begin to process the fact that she... that she...

“You love me?” he asked, voice so low it was bordering on silent and she looked up at him.

His eyes. How many memories were not linked to those blue orbs? And all she could really remember now, as she cautiously let herself drown, was those thousands of times he had looked at her with love and devotion and hope and warmth.

The emotion within her was new in its aged state, moving around with the rest of the confusion and unwilling willingness and tiptoeing fear. The emotion within her was growing with every new breath she took as his love for her became the brightest spot in all their history together. What would their story have looked like if he hadn’t loved her? But he had loved her. He did love her.

And...

“Yes,” she now answered his question, feeling how her pulse was rapidly increasing.

Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled herself even closer to him, her embrace hardening.

He felt her close, he had heard the word she had just spoken. What was this? Was she giving him the world?

Closing his eyes as well he bent his head forward slightly to rest it by the side of her face, gently breathing her scent and feeling too many things to actually feel anything. His chest was a jumble of emotions that were screaming at each other to get out of the way and still colliding with each other as they went.

The happiness was the key one, though. It spread soft wings within his chest and he wanted to cry at the soothing feel of it. The shadow of doubt crept along his ribs, however, and soon it reached his heart. Overpowering as it placed itself over the still muscle and he blinked as he opened his eyes again.

“Buffy...” he mumbled and she put her head up, tilting it back slightly to be able to rest her gaze in his.

And then she suddenly smiled. It was tentative, but as it grew the light of it chased any remaining shadows away and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“What?” she asked quietly and he shook his head, smiling as well, moving one hand up to brush it through her blonde locks.

They grew serious, just like that. Staring at each other and then he bent down, gently letting his lips meet hers and she closed her eyes.

Parting her lips for his tongue she met it with her own. The kiss was slow and deep and long. Arms wrapping around his neck, her waist. Bodies pressed against one another. Mouths locked together and time standing still. Everything else ceasing to exist except for that other. Except for hands and mouths and tongues and the sensation filling them both.

None of them had any idea for how long they stood like that, and neither one of them cared. As they, as slowly as they had started the kiss, ended it and pulled apart, they once more stared at each other.

As a child might look at that gift it had longed for, for so long, the Slayer and the Vamp looked at each other and then she smiled again.

“I think I owe Dawn one huge apology,” she murmured and he smirked.

She let her gaze slide over his forehead, down his cheek, pausing on his mouth before moving back up to meet his eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” she then asked, his smile widening.

“Depends on you, love,” he answered. “You going anywhere?”

She smiled back, shaking her head.

“So you’re staying?” she asked and he laughed, pulling her close again, leaning forward and kissing her with great care, making her knees grow weak.

They moved into the living room, their embrace lingering as they sunk down on the couch, her legs moving to cross over his as she kept her arms around his neck.

“Where’d you go?” she wondered and he looked at her.

“Nowhere,” he answered. “Everywhere,” he added and she smiled a little.

“What should we do now?” she asked.

He ran one hand through the softness of her blonde tresses, feeling sudden awe at the ease with which he could, how there was no hesitation in his fingers, how he felt no need to check her face for her reaction to his touch. He knew that she wanted him close. He had seen it and now it could never go away, the knowledge of her love.

She loved him.

“We should go to bed,” he smiled and hers broadened. “It’s late.”

“Bed sounds good,” she nodded.

Tonight she’d sleep without tension fingering her spine, without breathless waking and wishing that she knew what was wrong. The answer had arrived, and the salvation of finally understanding how the night seemed less cold with him near her, would bring her the peace she had craved ever since the moment he had left.

“Bed sounds perfect,” she added, rising and reaching out a hand to him.

He looked at it, then up at her, a crooked smile placing itself on his lips before he slid one palm against hers, linking their fingers together as he got to his feet as well. She eyed him for a few seconds, then put her arms up, wrapping them around him again, kissing him softly.

“Thank you,” she said as she pulled her head back. “For coming back.”

“You were right,” he mumbled. “I always do. It’s my thing.”

She giggled, unable to stop herself, happy at the smirk it produced from him. She felt completely relaxed for the first time in such a long time, and she didn’t know who to feel most grateful to. She supposed her sister was due one big slice of the happy cake. She’d get to that in the morning. For tonight...

“Come with me,” she said, taking his hand again and heading for the stairs.

“Wherever you lead, milady,” he murmured and she felt a shiver of pleasure run down her spine at the thought of having him close again, skin against skin. “Wherever you lead,” he repeated as she clicked off the light of the living room.





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