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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry, sorry, sorry for the wait! There's an explanation at the end of this chapter!
Chapter Twelve

It's good to be back, Buffy repeated to herself as she piled into the taxi cab. The driver slammed the trunk shut after stuffing her luggage bags in and she shivered. It's over. It's all over.

Now, she could focus on what was important - finishing her degree and getting the hell out of… out of what? Life? She shook her head.

"Where to, miss?" the cab driver asked, twisting around. She blinked and realized that she hadn't given him an address yet. She quickly told him and sat back, slowly breathing in and out, trying to relax.

Thoughts of him floated around and she snapped her eyes shut, trying to drown out the images. The pangs in her stomach was even harder to ignore.

Before she could think, she pressed speed dial #5. Faith. Roommate and best friend - it had been too long since they talked.

The phone rang twice before it picked up.

"B! Finally! I thought you upped and forgot about me for a while," Faith's laughing voice flooded her ear and Buffy couldn't help but smile. Her spirits lifted. Marginally.

"Got caught up in a couple of things - you know," she sighed.

"No, I don't know. I haven't heard from you since… what… last May? What kinda best friend are you, girl?"

Buffy winced.

"Sorry about that."

"Nah, it's no big." There was a little pause, then, "So, what's up?"

"I'm heading back to the apartment."

"Now? Why!?"

"Yeah. Uh, some things came up… I just couldn't stay at the lake anymore."

Her head was throbbing and suddenly, she didn't feel like talking anymore.

"Look," she said evenly, "I'm … really tired right now. Sorry, I just called to tell you I was coming back. Can I call you back later?"

"Yeah, girl. No problem," Faith's voice was softer. "Call me whenever, okay? I'll be back sometime next week."

"Right. Bye."

She snapped her phone shut and buried her face in her hands.

…………

The apartment felt empty without Faith in it. Her heart felt even more empty as she looked at the dull furniture, the dusty surfaces, the dim lights. She dropped her bags and suitcases on the floor and walked into the kitchen.

"Damn," she muttered as she surveyed the empty refrigerator and even emptier pantry. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned back against the walls and took a deep breath. It's the right thing to do.

…………

After an hour of trying to get the cable to work, Buffy gave up. She grabbed her purse off the counter and headed out of the apartment.

You just left him there without a note. How could you?

It wouldn't have worked out anyways.

But you didn't even try.

I did! And all that got me was a broken heart!

That's just an excuse. He loves you for god's sakes.

Not really.

Yes really.

Before she knew it, she was situated at her old, familiar barstool at Willy's, slamming down a tequila shot, and gasping as it burnt her throat. The music and voices surrounding her blended into one, never-ending throb of sound and she winced, trying to melt into nothing.

Thankfully, nobody came up to her or tried to talk to her. Nobody bothered noticing her except for the bartender - and even he didn't say much to her. Maybe it was her icy attitude or the withdrawn look in her eyes … or maybe it was the yummy sushi pajama set that she was still wearing and the loose, messy ponytail she'd put up her unwashed hair in. Buffy wrinkled her nose, feeling defeated.

"Something bothering you, miss?" a friendly voice asked from her left. She looked up from her glass and made a guttural, non-committing sound. The man was looking at her curiously; not in a way that made her feel wanted, but instead, made her feel like a freak-show character in the circus.

"I'm a coward," she whispered, more to herself than the man staring at her.

"Ah, aren't we all."

"But it's not my fault," she informed him, filling up her shot glass once more. "He's a jerk. A big, fat, ugly, no-good jerk. With commitment issues. He snores and he kisses other people to try to get me jealous, he cares too much about his face, he tells me he loves me, and he's annoying. I hate him. I absolutely hate him!"

"Sound like a keeper," he was chuckling at her and she suddenly felt tired. "Where is he?"

"Back in the woods where I left him," she answered, miserably. The man raised his eyebrows, amused, and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

"Did you kill him?"

She snorted and winced. "No. I left him in his bed and flew back home."

"Harsh."

"Maybe. I need to go."

With that, she turned tail and headed out of the bar, feeling infinitely worse.

What have I done?

You saved yourself from inevitable hurt. Or so you keep trying to remind yourself.

Shut up.

…………

A week later, Buffy Summers felt like she was on top of the world and could take on anything flung her way. She had gotten herself together, gone shopping with money she didn't have to spend, met up with friends, caught up with professors, and did everything under the sun to insure her sanity. It was just too bad for her that the world had other plans.

Because the one thing she wasn't ready for was the person sitting on the front steps of her apartment building when she stepped out of the taxi after returning slightly tipsy from a friend's get-together across Boston.

The words fled her mouth and sanity fled her brain. That had to be the reason, because there was absolutely no way, no how -

"Buffy," he said. That was it. One whispered word and she was ready to collapse. When her knees gave way, he lurched forward to catch her before she could tumble to the cemented sidewalk.

"What - how are you here?" she found herself asking, leaning into his arms, clutching his biceps as if to make sure he was real, solid. Her voice choked.

"I talked to your brother," he admitted. It was then when she noticed the little cuts on his skin and the slight coloring surrounding his left eye. "We got into a little tiff."

At her horrified look, he quickly added, "But we worked things out. Have a little understanding now, you know?"

She violently shook her head and took a deep breath. "That's not what I meant. I mean, why…"

"Don't you know?"

When she didn't answer, he shook his head and reached out, pushing a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. She shivered at the contact and swallowed hard.

"I'll always be waiting for you, love. Right here. At your doorstep."

…………

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting across from each other in Buffy's living room, both uncertain, both a little nervous.

"How is this going to work, Spike?" she asked, knowing he didn't know but wanting to hear his answer all the same.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he sighed. "Look. I've never been good at relationships. I screw up, I say things in the heat of the moment, and I can be a real bloody wanker when it comes down to it. Even when I was with Drusilla, I never really gave her my all. We nearly broke up about a million times because of it."

"That's really reassuring. Thanks for that."

The sarcasm soaked her words and he held out a hand to silence her.

"Now wait a second, pet. I have my issues and I know you have yours. We're both so goddamn new to this, but the hell I want to just leave it as it is. I think we've got something really good going on," he grabbed her hands and locked their fingers together. "Well, the beginnings of something really good if we both try."

"I don't know - "

"You haven't even heard me out," he interrupted. "When I say try, I mean it. No running away when something goes a bit wrong, no turning our backs on the other, no holding back, period. I love you, Buffy. And - "

"I love you, too."

Her words were so sudden, so quiet that he stopped talking altogether.

His smile was so gradual that she nearly started to laugh, but all she could muster was a small squeeze of his hands in hers.

"Say that again," he whispered, leaning forward until their foreheads were almost touching.

"I love you."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" he questioned, moving even closer. "You're going to give me a chance?"

She looked down, but he brought a finger to her chin and lifted her head up.

"I know how life feels without you in it," she said slowly. "And I'm beginning to realize that it's better when you are in it, and - "

She was cut off by his lips on hers.

…………

It was different that night. Lighter. Less frantic and more slow, more love than lust, more touching than fucking. They talked now, giggled about things, commented about random nothings.

He told her that her bed was softer than his and she said it was better that way. He told her he didn't bloody care, as long as she was there right next to him and she laughed.

"I love you so much," he murmured against her neck as his hands ventured across her belly and toward the junction of her thighs. "So bloody much."

She shivered and he groaned against her.

"You don't have to be so wonderful anymore," she gasped into his ear as a finger slipped into her folds. Her palms flattened over his shoulder blades and held him close. "You've already gotten me in bed, I'm pretty sure that's a positive sign."

He agreed with a grin and nipped at her throat on the way up to her lips. "But I need to make sure you stay with me forever and ever, yeah?"

Her legs hooked around his and her hips arched up as he positioned himself over her.

"Forever, huh?"

She gasped as he filled her, curved her back up to increase body contact, hissed as he bit her shoulder.

"Sounds good, yeah?" he grunted as he started a slow, languid rhythm. Her bedsprings squeaked in protest as they moved together.

"Is that a proposal?" she asked, burying her fingers in his hair, then trailing her nails down his muscled back. His hands were everywhere at once, re-memorizing her curves, exploring areas where nobody would have thought existed.

"Mm," he moaned. His thrusts grew deeper, faster. "Do you want it to be?"

She looked into his eyes as he stilled his hips for a prolonged, anguishing moment, waiting for her answer. She trailed her index finger over his cheekbone and lifted her head up to press her lips to his. His mouth instantly opened and his tongue met hers, joining in a complicated dance where only they knew the steps. He couldn't help but move again - the intensity was too much.

The headboard was pounding into the wall now, but neither of them cared. As they neared their climax, Buffy leaned up and whispered into his ear.

"Eventually."

He smiled against her skin and held her tight as they both went soaring over the edge into oblivion.

Eventually never sounded more promising.

…………

It was late at night - or early in the morning - and Spike's stomach was growling violently. He breathed in deeply and smiled, taking in Buffy's purely feminine scent as strands of blond hair tickled his nose. His arms tightened around her sleeping form and he nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck.

After hours of the best kind of sex, they'd settled in and just talked, both pleasantly sore and completely tired to even bother getting up from bed.

He had never been more content. Except now, his stomach was demanding nourishment - and not the sexual kind, either. Sighing, he pushed himself up from the bed and carefully climbed over Buffy, making sure he didn't wake her. She made a quiet, mewling sound and rolled around, wrapping her arms around her pillow.

He froze, staring at her body as the sheet fell low on her hip. Of course he wanted her again, he glared at his slowly hardening friend. He always wanted her.

Forcing himself to leave the bedroom, he closed the door behind him and padded into the kitchen, naked.

As he was opening the refrigerator, the front door opened and he froze.

Who was it? A burglar? Buffy's friend?

A distinctly feminine voice was whistling as the door closed again and a body moved down the hall. There was a soft clicking sound and suddenly, light flooded the apartment.

"AHHHH!" a dark-haired girl shrieked when she caught site of him - a strange man - standing in the kitchen, holding a carton of orange juice.

He yelped and dropped the carton, moving his hands to cover himself.

"Who the fuck are you?" she screamed, lunging forward to whack him with her purse.

The bedroom door opened as he tried to fend her off with one arm and cover himself with the other.

"What do you want with Buffy? Why are you here? Who the hell - "

"Faith?"

Buffy's sleepy voice cut her off and they both turned to see the blonde enter the kitchen, holding a sheet around her body. Spike leapt to her side and clutched her in his arms, placing her protectively in front of him and any exposed body parts.

"Buffy! What the hell is going on?"

Buffy grinned and shrugged, sheepishly.

"Faith, meet Spike. Spike, meet Faith. And it's really, really early, so if you don't mind, I'm going back to sleep."

She handed Spike a pillow she was holding in her hand and ambled back in her bedroom. He placed the pillow in front of his crotch and stared, wide-eyed at the surprised Faith.

Faith crossed her arms over her chest. "So, Spike," she said cautiously, measuring him up. "What are your intentions?"

A small smile crept up his face.

"I'm going to marry that woman."




THE END.
---------------------------------------------
Author's Note: It's finished! I think the last few chapters have been just a bit rushed and I might go back and re-write them, but for now, I'm happy with it the way it is.

I know I promised this chapter FOREVER ago, but I was really, really busy.

Annd.... for my good news. I got into Columbia University!! (dances) That's pretty much what's been keeping me busy. I didn't really get an ideal financial aid package and was working on scholarship apps, etc.

I'm not abandoning any of my stories - just slowing down a lot. They WILL eventually all be finished.

And I just have to say this - the Buffy community is one of the most accepting, kindest fandoms out there. You all have been so great and patient and I'm so very grateful for that. Thanks!





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