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Author's Chapter Notes:
I can't say how sorry I am for the ridiculous delay in updating this fic, i've had some issues going on, but there over now! so sorry, and thanks for the massive patience of my readers.
Buffy had applied her makeup and chosen her outfit with particular care. Tonight was a night she had been waiting for for far too long. She and Spike were finally going on a date. It had been him who suggested it. Buffy was desolate after Willows departure, the horror of the last couple of months had caught up with her and she was in desperate need of a boost. Spike had seen this even though Buffy wasn’t sure how to feel. The last couple of months, hell the last couple of years, had been so... hectic. Fraught. So full of upheaval, of death and uncertainty.

Now one of the few people she really loved was on the other side of the world, learning to adjust to a life she could never have expected. Giles, her solid certainty, the thread which helped her connect the normal with the unnatural, was gone too. And Xander had fled, taking Cordelia up on her offer to spend the last two weeks of the holidays at her parent’s beach house. He had taken the shift in the Scooby dynamic particularly hard, and Buffy didn’t blame him for needing some time to get his head together.

Without her friends around her Buffy knew she should have felt miserable, she should have felt lonely. A little lost perhaps. If it had been a year ago she would have felt all those things. But now she had Spike, and all she felt was guilty that she could find such happiness in the midst of so much pain.

Buffy sat on the back porch, waiting for Spike to arrive, enjoying the sensation of the warm setting sun tickling her skin, and considering the complicated part-vamp who had turned her world, her heart, inside out.

She and Spike hadn’t said the words yet, hadn’t exchanged those three little words that other people set so much store by in their relationships, but Buffy knew that for them saying the words didn’t really matter so much. She and Spike were physical beings, neither of them massively wordy (though Spike had surprised her on that score several times) they didn’t need to say the L word to know that was what lay between them. They showed it to each other, in every gesture, every look, every contact between them shivered with intensity. Buffy had thought she had known love before, she had exchanged the words with another, but that hadn’t been love. Not real love. Not love like this. She doubted there had ever been a love like this, one so complete, so equal, so perfect in its imperfections. How she had come from finding Spike irritating to considering her dearest friend, the greatest piece of her heart. She had been in the middle of falling before she’d known she’d begun. By the time she realised there was no stopping it, it was solid immovable fact, undisputable feeling. He was hers and she was his, and together they were... everything.

Spike had worried that after what had happened with Oz Buffy would turn from him. He’d never said as much, but Buffy could tell. After her previous behaviour Buffy wasn’t surprised, but it hurt her to think that he could think she would ever, could ever, be apart from him again. He hadn’t killed Oz, he had killed the monster inside of him, and the monster would have killed her if Spike hadn’t struck first. There was nothing to forgive, only his guilt to ease. He hadn’t had a choice. Spike knew that, deep down. And if he was faced with the same decision again he wouldn’t hesitate, Buffy knew that he would always save her. But he felt guilty that there hadn’t been another way, that he hadn’t been able to help the boy he’d felt a grudging affection.

Buffy had spent the last few days convincing Spike that he should let his guilt pass. What happened to Oz had been horrific, was horrific, but it wasn’t his fault. And now Spike was taking her on a date, their first proper date. Or at least Buffy hoped he was. All he’d said on the phone was that she should ‘get suited and booted and put on her good time face’, which was an unusual expression for anyone to use, let alone Spike. Buffy assumed it meant get dressed up and ready to have fun. She really hoped it didn’t mean they were going patrolling. If it did then she was seriously, seriously overdressed. Or underdressed, depending on how you looked at it.

Buffy felt her Spike tingly sensor activate minutes before he appeared in her garden.

“Bloody hell”

She couldn’t help but agree. Damn, Spike scrubbed up gooooood. Considering how sexy he looked generally Buffy didn’t think he could look better. Turned out she’d been wrong. He was out of his trademark black jeans and T (sadly not in a ‘completely naked’ way, but rather in a ‘smart clothes on instead’ way). He was wearing a button down shirt, in almost the same impossible blue as his eyes, with the collar open just enough. Instead of his duster he had a black suit jacket on over the top, and boy did he look broad shouldered in it. Instead of jeans he wore regular pants, black of course, but fitted in such a very nice way. He’d even polished his doc’s. Kinda. As good as all that was it was his hair which really struck Buffy that tonight was indeed a special night. It wasn’t slicked back, tamed into submission by his usual gel. He had let the curls, the curls she loved, loose, and they sprang wildly, as though he had very recently been running nervous hands through them.

It was only when Buffy had taken in and admired all this that she saw the way Spike was looking at her. And it took her breath away. She never thought she could look as beautiful to anyone as Spike made her feel she looked to him. She grew red under his unwavering stare. Then she realised he’d dropped the bunch of flowers (roses, her favourite) he’d been carrying, and she smiled.

Spike finally seemed to notice he hadn’t moved or said anything for some time. His eyes had turned black with heated desire, and even as he moved towards her they roved up and down, drinking in every sun kissed inch of her.
Buffy congratulated herself on her clothing choice, the blood red backless dress was obviously a winner. She’d left her hair down, the way she knew he liked it, and as soon as he was within reaching distance he stroked the length of it, tangling his fingers in the ends.

He pulled her in and from the minute there lips touched it was... fireworks. No, more than fireworks. It was magic.
They stayed that way for the longest time, tongues battling, teeth biting, hearts flaming.

When Spike eventually pulled back he was breathing hard and something else, something pressed against Buffy’s thigh, was hard as well. He lent his forehead against hers and stroked the small of her back with feather light, teasing touches.

“Hey Kitten. Don’t think I got round to tellin you this yet, but you look... you look...like my everythin. You could end the world lookin like that pet, it’s dangerous.”

Buffy laughed, “You don’t look so bad yourself. I can’t believe your hair!”

Spike mock growled. “I did that for you pet, and for you only. If you tell anyone I went out lookin like a poof, or take any pictures, you’ll be dealing with one mad vamp.”

Buffy twined her fingers around his neck and played with the hair in question. “Message received, loud and clear. Now, we’ve established how good we both look, where are you taking me?”

Spike grinned and trailed his lips down her check, across her neck, and back up again until they were running along the shell of her ear. The sensation caused her to shiver and bite back a moan.

“Well pet, right now I’m wantin pretty badly to take you back to my place and out of these soddin unnecessary clothes... but I’m guessin you’d be disappointed if there wasn’t dinner and dancin first?”

Buffy pressed herself closer and teased him with her lips as he had teased her. “I wouldn’t be that disappointed... I’m not even that hungry... for food anyway...”

Buffy didn’t know where her daring was coming from, but when Spike groaned in response to her words she decided she should be daring more often. He, however, seemed to have more command over himself then she did.

“No, kitten don’t tempt me. My girl got promised a proper date, and a proper date she shall have. Now, stop that before I lose my gentlemanly manners.”

With an effort of will Spike pulled away. He looked at his hands then, as though only just realising the flowers he’d brought weren’t in them. He scouted around in a pretty comical way until he located them.

“Oh bugger!” Spike tried to straighten out the bent stems, but they resented being thrown so casually on the floor, and then stepped on, and they wouldn’t obey. “Sorry pet, think I broke your flowers. Bloody stupid fragile things.”

Buffy laughed, which made Spike laugh too, and do that sexy ‘hand running through hair coupled with eyebrow lift’ that Buffy was so very fond of. Then he held out his hand and said two of the best words in the English language.

“Let’s go.”


That night they went for dinner, but if you’d asked her afterwards Buffy wouldn’t have been able to remember what they’d eaten. Or even where they’d gone. Then they went dancing, but Buffy had no idea what songs they danced to or for how long. Spike’s memory was similarly defective.

All either one could remember was how the other looked, how their mouth moved when they talked, when they laughed. What they felt like, smelt like. What they tasted like.

Without even realising they’d been headed that way Buffy and Spike were suddenly in his apartment. Candles had somehow been lit, and some sort of music was playing. But none of that really mattered.





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