Author’s Note: I took some creative license in Buffy’s birthdays…in that I made the Season 1 episode “Nightmares” a birthday episode. Pretty much because, up until I rewatched it recently, it was a birthday episode in the very special land of my imagination. I think it’s because her father was there. Anyway, just wanted to clarify that. *smoosh*

And THANK YOU to everyone who voted for this story at Seven Seasons! *bounces*

Chapter 43


“My head feels all big and swollen,” Buffy murmured, stretching accommodatingly beneath him as Spike dabbed her brow with an ice pack. “Uhhh. I really hate this part of getting my ass so spectacularly kicked. Is there a demon or a warlock that can speed up time?”

He chuckled appreciatively. “Not that I know of, pet.”

“I hate being sick.”

“You’re not sick, baby.” He brushed his lips across her forehead and smiled softly. “You’re jus’…”

“Not well?” Buffy grinned, paused, and managed to wedge one eye open with some effort. “Oh hey. Look. There you are.”

Spike glanced up and smiled when he saw her looking at him. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I’m a real knockout. I hear big purple welts are all the craze nowadays.”

“You’re still gorgeous.”

“You’re just being sweet.”

Spike shook his head. “I’m not sweet. I’m nasty an’ rude, an’ I’d tell you straight if I thought otherwise.”

“You would not.”

“’Course I would.” He kissed her brow again, flicking the strap of her camisole. “So, on a scale from one to ten, how does this birthday compare to the others?”

Buffy snickered dryly and turned on her side. “Don’t I need to rank my other birthdays first?”

Spike shrugged and settled in beside her, lifting his arm so that she could snuggle into his side. “If you feel that’ll help,” he agreed, though he couldn’t help the angry rumble in his chest that told him he was just asking for heartache. Of course, her birthday last year would have been worse than this one, and that was partially his fault. Moreover, the cause of her pain would be directly Angel-related, and petty as it might be, he didn’t think he could stand to hear it.

Especially now that he knew. He’d known the second he felt her pain. The second he’d felt her screaming. The second he’d imagined a world without her in it. He’d known.

He loved her.

It wasn’t much of a revelation, he supposed. After all, he’d felt it for days now. He’d likely known the night that he’d realized it was possible. The night he’d gone to her after scaring her in the cemetery. When he’d snuck into her room and felt her tremble beneath his fingers. He’d felt it then—he just hadn’t wanted to admit it. He hadn’t wanted to shove his baser tendencies aside so quickly. He hadn’t wanted to abandon his inner monster.

And he hadn’t. He hadn’t. His demon had overpowered him once already, and Buffy hadn’t shrunk back in fear. She’d calmed him, and the demon, in turn, adored her.

Why it had taken so long to realize he loved her, he didn’t know. But he did. He loved her entirely. He loved her like he’d never loved anyone. It was as though something cosmic had opened his eyes. As though the years before her had been spent wandering around blind, waiting for her to find him.

Whatever he’d thought he’d felt before, whatever misguided musings he’d had toward love, were completely washed away.

“Well,” Buffy mused, breaking through his reverie, “my first birthday kinda sucked. I mean, I turned into a vampire.”

Spike blinked dazedly. “You did?”

“Yup. Well, it was around my birthday, so to me, it counts. Coma boy…had a bunch of nightmares. Made all of our worst nightmares come true. Mine ranging from my father not loving me to becoming a vampire.” She spoke as though it were nothing, but he could tell that she was haunted still by the occasional nightmare. “Then again,” she said, shrugging casually. “Xander was chased by maniacal clowns, so maybe I got the better end of the deal.”

“Buffy—”

“And last year? Hello to the suckage.” Her expression darkened. “Then again, maybe if I’d known Soulless-Angel wasn’t as evil as Angel-Angel, it might’ve been easier for me.”

Spike blinked, surprised. “How you figure?”

“Well, Angel-Angel led me to that place tonight, and then got me to bolt inside by telling me that you were in there…hurt and bleeding.”

“He what?”

“Yeah, the way I have it figured, at least Soulless-Angel would’ve been up-front.” She shook her head. “After the big secret about his lack of soul was out, he was pretty out-in-the-open about how much he wanted me dead. That and I think he’d wanna do the damage himself rather than having some crazy vamp do the work for him.”

“Angel led you to the place where the Cruciamentum was happening?”

Buffy licked her lips and nodded, wincing when she rubbed her shoulder too liberally against his. “Ugh. I can’t wait until I get my powers back.”

“He led you—”

“He said you were bleeding.”

“He told you…an’ you—”

“I was just about to try and ditch him to meet you for patrol.” She shook her head. “And I didn’t even stop. Like Angel would even care if you were bleeding. And I didn’t even stop and think. I was all bolty-Buffy and crazy Mister…Crazy was in there waiting for me.” She paused. “I didn’t think.”

Spike sighed and tightened his arms around her. “You thought of me,” he murmured numbly, unable to draw his eyes away from her. She was a vision. A glorious, gorgeous vision; he couldn’t believe he’d done anything to deserve her. That he’d done anything to merit the bruises that colored her gorgeous skin. And the idea that all Angel had to do to get her racing into danger was mention his name…

God, I love her so much.

The knowledge warmed his insides. He’d fought it for so long. Why had he fought it? Why, when it brought him this sort of peace?

“When do you think I’ll get my powers back?” she murmured. “I really wanna pop Angel in the nose.”

“Get in line.”

“Well, no. That’s not fair.”

Spike’s eyes darkened. Not fair? Angel gets a busted nose as payment for nearly getting her killed? No, he supposed it wasn’t fair. The only way any of this could ever be fair was if he locked Angel in a room with several centuries’ worth of victims and let them have at him. Or better yet, hand him off to the sodding Council. Get a priest to try and exorcise his demon from his chest. Anything that involved a lot of torment: that was what Angel deserved.

“What I really want,” Buffy continued, coughing, “is to shred him into little dusty bits.”

Or that. That would work. He released a deep sigh and chuckled, brushing his lips across her shoulder. “You’ll get no argument from me, luv.”

“Giles would pitch a fit.”

“What, are you daft? The bloke offed his woman. You think he’s gonna cry any tears over Angel dust?” He shook his head heatedly. “An’ not that I’m not in favor of bruising the Professor’s dainty old-man skin, but I’d gamble everything I have that the only reason they’re workin’ together is because of us.”

She paused. “Us?”

“Angel’s known about us for a while, yeh?”

“Well, I let him know what happened, if that’s what you mean.”

“An’ who do you think he ran to?”

Buffy worried a lip between her teeth. “But…Giles hasn’t mentioned anything. About you or…about whatever. I mean, he has recently, but Angel’s been showing up…” She shook her head, her brow furrowing. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. If Angel’s been ratting on me this whole time, Giles would’ve pulled a massive wig.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure? Do you have any idea how much crap they gave me when I got back from Los Angeles?”

“Luv, until your mum let the bloody cat out of the bag downstairs, I din’t even know you’d scampered to Los Angeles at all.”

Her face blanked, her one good eye falling shut. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t run out on me the first chance you got.”

“I din’t run out!”

Buffy snickered. “No. Sprinted is more like it.”

“I had—”

“You carted Dru away and then it was all, ‘Bye, bye, Buffy. Don’t let the apocalypse hit your ass on the way out.’” She pouted. He had no idea how she could pout when her gorgeous face was as bruised and swollen as it was, but her bottom lip poked out and he found himself drenched in guilt. “Angel got his soul back right before I had to send him down the express lane to Hell. Then I left town. I mean, my mom had kicked me out and my friends didn’t care that—”

“I still don’ get how she got the stones to boot you from your own house, luv.”

Buffy shrugged indifferently, though he knew from the look on her face that it still smarted. “She thought she was…I dunno. I shouldn’t have expected her to…just get it. Maybe I should’ve tried to come home and talk with her—”

“Yeah? I’m sure that would’ve gone swimmingly.” Spike rolled his eyes, his tone adapting a high falsetto. “’Allo mum. Jus’ saved your sorry ass from bein’ sucked into Hell. What was that we were talkin’ about before I went an’ killed my boyfriend for the betterment of humanity’?”

“Yeah, like I’d ever say, ‘Allo.’ You don’t even say ‘Allo’.”

He shrugged. “Jus’ saying.”

“And betterment? Who are you, Giles?”

Spike made a face at her that was positively infantile, but the radiance shining on her face when she dissolved into giggles made it more than worth it. “Ow,” she complained, rubbing her cheek and trying to reign in her mirth. “Don’t make me laugh, you ass.”

“Yeah, I’m a berk for bringing light to my girl’s face. Someone stake me.”

“You shouldn’t say that while you’re holding the Slayer.”

“I’m tremblin’ in my booties,” he retorted with a furious smirk, his fingers dipping to tickle her sides. “What were we talking about, again?”

“Something about Giles and Angel and the…massiveness that is…massive?” Buffy frowned and nuzzled his shoulder kittenishly, draping an arm over his chest and draping her right leg over his. “I dunno. I don’t think it matters.”

“I still can’t believe that prat sent you into the place by telling you that…” Spike sighed. “I should’ve staked him twice.”

“Yeah…what?”

He just chuckled and shook his head, stroking her cheek gently with his knuckles. “Rest, kitten. It’ll be better in the morning.”

“Nuh uh.”

“I’ll give you your present, then.”

“Present?”

He brushed his lips across her brow. “Your birthday present, luv. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

She pouted. “Buffy want prezzie now.”

“Buffy’s gonna have to wait till Buffy’s gotten some rest.”

“You’re no fun.”

Spike grinned. “Oh, I’m lots of fun. As you well know.”

“Perv.”

“You love it.” He stroked her hair, his eyes shining with adoration. “Go to sleep, pet. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Mmmm.” She was already drifting. He loved it that, despite everything, he could help her end the day with a smile on her face. “Promise?”

Spike smiled into her hair. “Promise.”

He was in her room. He had her in his arms. And he loved her.

There was nothing in the world could drag him away now.

To be continued…





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