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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: I've now pretty much finished the story. I'm very sorry it took me so long, but this chapter was giving me more than just one headache. The good news is: the remaining two chapters are going to be posted a lot faster. And I'm happy with the way they turned out.

I know, originally I promised a threeshot, but this story spun out of control a little bit, like all stories do. I doubt you'll hate me for more chapters.

This one has the long-awaited Spuffy reunion. Which simply wouldn't work the way I wanted it to. Buffy was such a bitch about it and then I had to get Dawn into it to save anything at all, which was supposed to be a later part of the story and so on and so forth. This might seem a little disappointing, but trust me, in the end, it's better this way.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the new part! Drop me a line if you have any time at all. I will update sooner for it! :)
For the second time in two days, Buffy was on a plane. Middle part, this time, and an aisle seat. No watching clouds from above to distract her from where she was going and she was just about as uneasy about getting there as she was anxious to make the time fly until she did.

Spike was alive.

To be honest, she still couldn't quite believe it. And even the piece of her that knew it to be true – the one who had caused her friends quite a shock when she had announced she had to go see him right away – even that Buffy had no idea what to do with the information.

Spike was alive and he hadn't even wanted her to know. He had wanted her to go on believing he was dust buried with along the Hellmouth. It didn't make sense. If there was one thing she had been certain about it was Spike's inability to stay away from her. He never would have failed to be at her side the moment he was resurrected before.

Unless the rules of the game had changed. Because maybe the reason he hadn't told her about his return was that he just didn't care for her that much anymore. Which sounded ridiculous, even in her head. It had taken long enough for her to accept what the annoying vampire felt for her was not just obsession or even lust to make it impossible to believe he had suddenly fallen out of love with her.

But what if his last moment had lifted him beyond caring about her most?

There was one thing, though. One thing that didn't make any sense. Well, apart from all the other things he owed her a serious explanation about. Spike knew her a lot better than she knew herself, he always had. He had known that she wanted even when she hadn't wanted to admit it even to herself. He had known she didn't want to be alone after finding out her mother was sick even though just minutes before she had told him he was beneath her. He had known that she needed someone to tell her she was strong when she felt week.

But he hadn't known that she loved him, hadn't believed her. And true, she hadn't known it either and she hadn't meant it and she had only said it so that he knew he deserved her love, but she had certainly tried her best to convince him. How come he hadn't been able to see that underneath all the self-deception, she really did love him? Or would love him, anyways.

The look on his face when she had visited him in the basement and he had been in the middle of punching-…

She really shouldn't have kissed Angel. But it had felt right and she did still love him very much and he had saved her life and what had that creepy stalker vampire even been doing there, watching them?

Unfair, Buffy. She knew exactly that he had only followed her to be able to look out for her, to help if she needed it. He had told her the night when she had simply allowed him to hold her had been the best night of his life and she had turned around to make out with Angel of all people. Of course he hadn't believed her.

But he should have! And he should certainly know better than to stay away from her even though he was alive again. Or undead. He should know she would want to know, want to see him. Even if he didn't believe she loved him, he had to know she cared. So why hadn't he?

Nothing she had ever done had been enough to chase him away for good. He wouldn't ever leave, no matter how hard she tried to make him. Even after the thing in the bathroom he had come back and she knew how horrible they both felt about that. He hadn't ever managed to stay away from her and now was the time to start?

It made her mad. It made her sad. It confused her to no end, because-… What if he just didn't love her anymore? She wouldn't know how to deal with that, not after that gianormous realization of her own.

On the seat next to her, Dawn was yawning. She hadn't been planning on taking her with her, but when her not-so-little sister had thrown a fit at the thought of Buffy leaving her behind to see Spike, she had conceded that if anyone had the right to make certain he was actually back, it was Dawn. Strictly speaking, Buffy herself didn't have the right. She hadn't even consciously mourned him and it had taken a stupid enchanted mirror to show her how she felt about him. Dawnie had at least known all along and she had been left alone with her grief.

Who was she to tell her she couldn't come to kick his ass about not telling her he was back from the completely dead?

Giles had curiously refrained from objecting even though she could tell he'd wanted to and Xander had quickly given up after some half-hearted attempts, like even he knew Buffy and Dawn were right to seek Spike out. Oz had reacted to the news in typical Oz fashion and Willow was – for once – on no other side but theirs. Andrew had felt guilty enough to arrange the flight for them and to drive them to the airport. She really wanted to be mad at him, but if she was then she'd have to be mad at the object of general confusion and she just wasn't ready for that.

Buffy noticed Dawn was just as unable to sleep as she was. It was a long flight, and while they had the biggest chunk of it over with, they should use the time to catch up on some severely needed napping. The had already spent most of the previous night together, lying awake, sometimes talking, sometimes yelling, sometimes laughing. There was still a nervous aspect about their relationship Buffy had thought she'd gotten rid of after her own resurrection drama. There was still the issue of trust on the table and some more that ran even deeper, but now was not the time to solve those. There would be plenty of time after they had played a game of 'Finding Spike'.

For now, she was unnerved and entirely unconvinced that she was ready to meet him, even though a bigger part of her needed to see him and couldn't wait for even one more second. If everything went well… She doubted everything would go over smoothly enough to come near to 'well'.

~~~~~

When Angel told him Buffy was coming to Los Angeles, Spike's first instinct had been to run and hide. Okay, maybe his second instinct. The first was to run and find her, as always. But he really hadn't had any intention of sticking around. He had gone for so long without her knowing he was undead and well, this new challenge wouldn't make him cave. Hard as it was, he was going to be roaming the streets while Buffy went to visit her beloved poofter.

Then he heard the Niblet would come with her and his determination wavered. True, the little bit didn't exactly like him anymore, but he would certainly be glad to see her. Still, it wasn't enough for him to throw years of avoiding them both in the wind.

But when Angel told him they were on a plane here because they knew he was back, it wasn't like he could still pretend to not exist. Didn't want to, either. He had been itching, aching to make it known he was alive, even if rationality and a certain amount of self-protection had prevented him from picking up the phone.

The thought of seeing Buffy again… It had kept him going for the last few years. As much as he had never wanted to be with her and not be with her again… No. She was what he was fighting for. He had died a hero, someone worthy. All he could do now was to try to be half the man he had been when his flaming hand was grasping hers. So that maybe one day he could meet her again and she could be proud of whom he had become.

Part of him knew that wasn't proper redemption. Not like Angel, who actually wanted the thing itself. Spike, he only wanted the girl. But seeing as he could never have her, it amounted to the same.

Now she would be here and he had no idea how she would react. He wanted to believe she'd be happy, wanted to believe he could go back to being someone she trusted and defended, someone she allowed to hold her while she slept.

She wouldn't, though. It had been a long time since then and to her, he had been dead. The reason why she was on her way to meet him was probably to kick his ass into the next year.

It wasn't like there was only doubt about Buffy's feelings for him. He knew she cared about him – or at least had, back then. She might not have loved him, but she had cared and she had been sad to lose him. Finding out he had been back for so long must have felt like a right betrayal of their slowly budding friendship. Even if staying away had been the right thing to do, for both their sa-…

She was here.

He didn't know how he knew. Even his enhanced vampire senses couldn't tell yet. Her distinct Buffy scent wasn't in the air yet, he couldn't hear her voice or her soft little steps or the rush of blood her heart was pumping through her. Still, he knew. It wouldn't be long now and she'd be standing in front of him.

He was outside the building. Angel had told him she'd come here and expected to find him here, but he'd be damned before he got caught in a tiny room with a potentially pissed of Slayer and her equally scary kid sister. Besides, the air was surprisingly clear for a long day of pollution, a strong wind blowing everything clean. You could almost make out the stars.

This was where he wanted to meet her, only lit by the streetlamps and neon signs. In his world, not Angel's. In her world.

He could smell her now and he felt his stomach twist with anxiety. Apparently it didn't matter how long he went without her, one waft of that particular fragrance and he was hers. She smelled of the night and of being nervous, a new detergent, but the same brand of shampoo. Mostly, she smelled like Buffy, fiery blood and fear.

Dawn was close by, her steps less measured and on guard like Buffy's. It was more like she couldn't decide between skipping and stomping.

He could hear them next, their breaths, the way they inhaled and exhaled, the bit fast and shallow, Buffy demonstratively calm. And then there was the blood, their identical blood and the steady thum-thum, thum-thum of their hearts.

It made his soul sing.

He was completely still now, feeling the air blow through his duster and in his eyes while he was practically impersonating a statue, staring, staring at the street corner they would turn any second now. He briefly wondered why they hadn't taken a taxi or let one of the Wolfram & Hart guys pick them up.

Then she really was there and nothing could have prepared him for that onslaught of emotion. It almost felt like it had when he had opened the door of his little cell in the Sunnydale school basement and there she had been. He had known before, if he hadn't been able to sense her otherwise, her hollering and the fighting sounds would have been a dead giveaway, but seeing her was a completely different deal.

It was both the most joyous sight if ever a sight there was and the most harrowing. It was Buffy and her hair was the way it had been before she had chopped it off to spite him – the way he would always love it best – and her smile-… There was no smile. She wasn't smiling. She had stopped, still a lot more steps between them than he would prefer – or maybe he wanted her to stay exactly where she was, he didn't even know.

That's how far he got in his assessments before Dawn came charging towards him.

The first thought he had after she had hit him square in the eye was that the Bit had been training. He couldn't remember her packing a punch like that. On the other hand, he didn't think he ever had felt her wrath in any other way than verbal. Which had actually hurt more than this, to be honest. There couldn't be anything more painful than disappointing someone who had been looking up to you. Nothing worse than knowing they now hated you. Especially if they'd been the closest thing to a friend you had.

He had been excited to see her again, at least after the Big Forehead had generously gone ahead and told him Buffy had said the bite sized one had at least missed him a little bit. Now, he just felt horrible at seeing her eyes swim with angry tears and her gingerly cradling her now injured hand.

He wanted to speak up, say anything – and he wasn't sure what that was going to be – to make things better, but she cut him off before he even got the chance to formulate any words.

"No! You don't get to talk! Not after letting me believe you were dead all this time!"

For the first time, he felt ashamed over his decision to stay away completely.

"I'm sorry, Niblet. I didn't think you-…"

"What?", she all but yelled, her voice wavering. "You didn't think I cared? You couldn't even get on the phone for thirty seconds to tell me you were alright?"

And then she was wrapped in his arms and he didn't even know who had moved first. All he knew was that he was holding her and she was holding him and if felt better than-… He couldn't even remember the last time he had felt so safe. Figures it would be him feeling safe with her, not her feeling safe with him. There he was, big badass vampire, letting a little girl fix a hole in his heart.

And then the words registered and no matter what, no matter what happened with Buffy or with the world or with him, he would never let her slip away again.

"I'm sorry you thought I wouldn't want to see you… I never told you I forgave you and that I missed my best friend. I can't believe that I let you die not believing that no matter what, I will always love you and need you in my life."

~~~~~

Buffy felt kind of stupid. Now that was the kind of welcome he deserved. Full of tears and punches and warmth. Her little sister had told Spike every last thing she wanted to say herself. Dawn wasn't scared and hiding and whatever it was that was going on in Buffy right now. She was honest and loving and God, why had she just totally stolen her thunder?

Seeing him was-… different. Different from what she remembered and very different from his image in the Mirror. The last time she had actually truly looked at him had been open, true, absolutely honest. He had been dying, after all. Nothing left to hide. And in the Mirror he had been almost serene, sure of her acceptance. It hadn't been necessary to veil himself.

Oh, he looked good, no question about that. He looked fantastic, really, all leather duster (hadn't that burned with him?), sharp cheekbones, hair gelled back in a way only he could pull off and to-die-for blue eyes. A lot like before. Also, not at all like before.

Now, he shut himself away almost instantly upon letting go of a happily crying Dawn and focusing completely on her. His shoulders hunched as if he was slightly scared of her; at the very least definitely on guard and he had an air of uneasiness about him, his smile almost sheepish, but not baring anything about himself.

"Hello, Buffy."

God, she had missed that dark rumble. Especially her name on his lips.

She wanted to say something, anything to indicate he didn't have anything to fear, that things would be better between them now, but the words got stuck in her throat and what slipped out instead sounded almost hostile.

"Why aren't you dead?"

His shoulders slumped beneath dark leather and she wanted to slap herself. Of course she had to muck it up starting right with the most aggressive words she could possibly have come up with to greet him.

"Sorry to disappoint, love."

When he smiled at her now, it was even more horrible to witness than before. It took the disappointment in his eyes to realize he had been hoping she would be happy to see him.

"I'm not disappointed, I'm-…"

… in love with you.

"…angry! You've been back for what now? Two years? And you never even bothered to check in. Has it even occurred to you that I might want to know you're no longer a pile of ashes?"

And what was it with her defensiveness? Why couldn't she just hug him, possibly kiss him and then go ahead to have her naughty way with him and tell him that she was so glad he was no longer dead, that she hadn't felt alive without him and that she. Freaking. Loved. Him? Why did he always bring out this side of her, this horrible, awful Buffy who rejoiced in causing him pain?

Here she was, finally reunited with the person she had missed more than anyone else she had lost, and while she felt bad about it, she had to fight tooth and nails to resist the urge to punch him in his stupid, insecure jaw. Just like the old days.

"I didn't-… Didn't want you to think less of me, pet."

And if he could have said anything to make her feel worse, it was exactly that. She got what he meant. He wanted her to remember him as the hero who had selflessly given his life for her and incidentally, for the entire rest of the world, too. He wanted to remain the guy who deserved the lie she had fed him to be a truth. He had honestly thought she'd rather have him dead and gone and a martyr instead of right here with her.

"Well, you should have said something."

Why? Why, why? Why was she acting like this? It was as if she was straight back to being recently resurrected I'm-having-an-abusive-affair-with-a-vampire-to-feel-anything Buffy.

Spike sighed.

"Was there anything you wanted, love?"

Suddenly the only thought left in her was how brave he must have been to tell her over and over again, even though he knew the only thing she would answer was pure and unchecked rejection. She hadn't been kind about his feelings, hadn't ever had the idea of maybe respecting his courage to tell her a truth she didn't want to hear.

Here she was, finally in love with him, and she couldn't say the words. It was so different now that they would have bigger consequences than letting him die loved. Now, she was facing a vampire - a man – who might just hold the key to all future happiness. Now he might reject her. And if he did? How could she possibly cope with him not wanting to be with her any longer?

Please, please, just say it. Say you still love me.

She'd get it. Maybe dying had provided perspective only a glance in the Mirror had given her. Maybe now he could see how horribly she had treated him, that the destructive nature of their relationship had not all been his fault, that it had been wrong of her to abuse him just to feel. Maybe he wouldn't think her worth the pain any longer.

So the words remained stuck in her throat and she could see a faint trace of anger in his eyes.

"What is it, Slayer?"

And she couldn't. She just couldn't.

"Nothing."

And then Dawnie was there, her sweet, annoying kid sister Dawn, all grown up and giving her a look as if Buffy had lost her mind. She had apparently left her position in the background, from the looks of it unable to watch this train wreck of a conversation any longer. Not like she could blame her.

"Hey Spike! How about you come back with us? Roomy old mansion in Scotland? Just for a little while? To catch up? Sure, it's a long flight, but-… oooh! You could help me teach Slayer fledglings! Pretty please?"

And she was laying on a pout that would have made the old Buffy proud.

But Spike wasn't smiling. He wasn't even really looking at Dawn. He was only looking at her, hope quickly fading from his eyes while he was searching hers. She knew what he wanted from her. She knew he wanted, he needed any sign – a crumb – that she wanted him to say yes.

She couldn't.

He finally turned to look at Dawn and gave her a sad smile. Sad. That was the word it all came down to. She had finally found him again, after years of missing him and she had made him sad.

"Don't rightly think big sis wants me there, pet."

Dawn shot her a seething look.

"Yes, she does!"

And when she finally managed to get over herself long enough to say "You should come", she knew she was too late.

He would be there, of course, would sit in the plane, chatting with Dawn, smiling and glad about regaining her friendship and completely broken inside to even be near a Buffy who couldn't even admit to being happy to see him. He would be at the mansion, be greeted with emotions ranging from awkwardness and a certain amount of hostility (Scoobies) to enthusiasm and fangirling (the new Slayers). He would stay and try to keep hoping she would eventually like him again.

She wished he wouldn't have to hope. She wished he knew. Why couldn't he just know without her spelling it out to him?

Why couldn't she just spell it out to him?

TBC





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