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The weekend arrived before Buffy heard from her sister.

The news, the facts, the relay- Whatever you decided to call Hank Summers' death, Buffy called it Disappointment, and Dawn named it Tragedy. Absentee dad turned murderous vampire, staked in the heart by a newcomer in Dawn's life, was the sort of information that deafened ears and fogged up logic.

Dawn liked Spike, of course, and she didn't seem to resent him for killing Hank, but she hadn't seen it. She hadn't seen her father lusting after his own daughter's blood, or the way he'd gone after it like a hungry monster, and even if she had hated the man for leaving, Dawn had never wished him dead before. Never.

Now it was too late to wish for anything having to do with him.

Buffy stared at the telephone while she sat in the living room. She'd been doing this since Dawn stormed out days ago, and the walls seemed to vibrate in the following silence. Buffy went to work each day, came home, listened with a hawk's hearing for the phone to ring, all while Spike remained at her side.

Darla, who often suggested she go speak with Dawn, was a steadfast support, as well. Yet none of it fixed anything. If those two were to talk, Buffy was afraid her sister would resent it, then Darla might get all superior-minded, like she occasionally tended to do. Spike offered to try his best and smooth things over with Dawn, as well, but Buffy knew that would be the paramount of bad decisions.

As it appeared, Dawn didn't hate Spike for destroying what was left of her father. Something about having been attacked by a vampire once made her accepting of obvious but unspoken truths. She knew Hank had to have been dangerous, deadly, but that still didn't mean a visit from Spike to get the sisters talking again was anywhere near what Dawn needed.

Time was what she needed.

Buffy knew it; and with painful clarity, she accepted it.

And waited by the phone, enduring self implemented distraction at work when real life called her name. Willow was kind enough not to pry or ask too many questions concerning Buffy's absentmindedness, instead simply making it known that she was available to talk, as a friend and not an employer, should Buffy want.

All she wanted was for the freaking phone to ring, but that was out of her control. Calling Dawn and getting Xander every time did little more than wrangle with already dampened patience.

Buffy's brother-in-law was privy to all the information on vampires, apparently. He wasn't really buying it, though. Buffy could tell, and she didn't think he would until Darla scared him with a flash of fang; the lady was looking forward to that.

In the meantime, Xander played the role of mediator; trying to get Dawn to call Buffy back, or go and talk with her in person, but his wife wasn't having it.

Confusion over why Spike and Darla were special, when apparently most of the vampire population remained cruel and irredeemable- and Spike had partaken in his fair share of evil in the past -was a nice basis for Dawn's detachment. Explaining the variations between one vampire's kind-of-a-conscience and another's complete lack of one, when Buffy barely understood it all herself, was like trying to decipher some sort of hieroglyphic code; hard, frustrating, and faith was nearly as significant as the wording.

It wasn't a surprise that Dawn couldn't wrap her mind around it yet. She needed time to think, but Buffy had no idea whether Dawn was feeding her own ire or actually calming down in the solitude of thought. Either way, giving her space was all that could be done.

Which was not easy. Buffy called every day, but her sister wasn't talking. She hadn't seen Hank, the Killer perform, though Dawn trusted Buffy's word nevertheless; it was just all so sticky and messed up.

Buffy sighed. Time. Dawn would come around in time. She had to. It simply didn't help that their dad was gone, like a puff of smoke.

It didn't help that Dawn was lied to from nearly the beginning, either. If Buffy wasn't afraid of grasping false hope like a straw, she could almost believe part of Dawn's seclusion was because her pride had taken a hit. Protecting someone could often feel like you didn't respect them enough to tell them the truth, and only time and explanations could mend such doubts.

Still, patience wasn't Buffy's strong suit, and the more time went by that she didn't hear from her sister, the more convinced she was that she would have to storm through Dawn's front door and have it out.

Buffy pressed her face into a pillow. *God, melodrama much?* She needed to get a grip on herself. This was eating her alive and it was just because her inner beasts kept knocking down her pillars of hope.

Of course, everyone had doubts concerning the people they loved and the decisions they made, but Dawn had such qualities as devotion and mature perspective. Surely even the gravity of the circumstances wouldn't break those dependable traits. Dawn had always come around in the past, and Buffy trusted that she would again.

Hoped, at least.

Another groan, this one louder. "Damn it."

Her muffled curse preceded a trail of light footsteps. Spike padded into the room, his gaze fixed on her.

He hadn't been sleeping well. It was a fact displayed plainly in his bleary eyes, and it was because Buffy wasn't able to go to bed without rolling a divot into the mattress. Lately, she hadn't been herself, and it thoroughly unnerved him. Seeing his mate so... lost, was agonizing. It conjured a sort of helplessness he'd felt very few times in his unlife, and wished fervently to never feel again.

He held a grudge against Dawn now, despite how unfair the notion was. Spike liked the chit, but all he knew was that Buffy was tired and upset, always staring at the phone and constantly checking the answering machine. If Dawn would just talk to her sister, it would do a lot in settling things down.

Spike kept the house phone at his ear when she was working, just in case Dawn did decide to ring. He didn't sleep then like he used to, but it was more for worrying about Buffy than it was for worry he would miss a call.

Buffy needed to keep busy, but she was upset every time she left the house, and not being able to remain close until she returned was almost more than he could bear. Spike didn't complain only because Buffy truly enjoyed her job, and concern in the form of his bitching was hardly something she needed.

He hated when he wasn't able to hold her, or help her forget the world when she wanted to. It made him ache knowing the sun was all that kept him barred from her office, otherwise who knew how often he'd be there, at the back of the building, walking around the block just to entertain himself in between visiting, and making sure she wasn't wanting for anything. He'd probably embarrass himself.

Spike approached the couch, the demon cursing for not being able to take away the heavy concerns that strained her muscles. Those that tensed her neck, and crept up her legs until only her eyes and ears were sharp.

Buffy didn't move except to lift her head when he sat down. Spike brushed hair out of her eyes and tried to conceal his worry behind a heartfelt smile. Buffy felt the love there as if it were the warm glow of a lantern. "I'm okay," she said.

He was trying hard not to scowl. "You don't look it."

"Just too much thinking." Buffy squinted then glanced away. "I tend to do that, you know. Drive myself insane with over thinking."

He smirked softly. "A lot of us tend to."

"You don't." Something near wonder fell over her face when she looked at him again. "Never. You just-... You feel and you follow your gut. And if something you can't change is bothering you, you just fight it until it gets- well, changed."

"I think we have that last bit in common, pet," he said. Then humor flashed in his eyes. "Over thinking I've heard is a human affliction."

Buffy cracked a smile, and it managed to inspire his. "Why couldn't I have lost the ability along with the whole mortality thing?"

"You humans are too stubborn to let go of the habit."

"Like you're not stubborn," she scoffed, then spoke again before he could poorly try and defend himself. "I'm not exactly human anymore, though, right?"

A tiny line appeared between her brows. He pressed a finger to her chest, over her pleasant heartbeat. "Still got all the same inner workings," he said.

Buffy shifted closer and Spike wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She bent her knees so they were touching his thigh. "Dumb fine print," she muttered.

He smiled against her hair. Damn if she didn't always smell like heaven and chocolate. Levity faded quietly behind them. The curtains had already been pulled shut and Spike threw a question into the dimming light. "You going to tell Dawn about it once she comes to terms?"

Buffy took a breath that sounded as if it weighed a hundred pounds when it parted her lips. "Yeah, but not until I'm sure she won't freak."

"I think that's part of the problem now, love." He looked her in the eye, continuing softly. "You not telling her something because you think she won't be able to handle it."

Buffy scowled. "That's not what I did. Or- What I'm going to do."

"Sounds like."

Irritation flickered within hazel green, and Spike nearly groaned as a warning sensation ran down his back. "What would you do?" Buffy asked with frustration. "Just announce the fact I'm going to live forever and we're basically married the second she comes through the door?"

"After she comes around to the rest of it, yeah," he said, an eyebrow twitching. "Why not?"

Buffy scoffed again, this time louder. "You mean right after she gets over the whole our-dad-became-a-vampire-and-had-to-be-staked thing?"

"Well..." When her eyes flared and grew two sizes larger, Spike quickly said, "I just wouldn't hide it, that's all. Tell her when she's no longer pissed about the other."

"Spike, it isn't that simple-"

"I beg to differ, Goldilocks."

She sighed roughly. "You always do."

Spike added, "If it's any consolation, I think she'll take it a lot better than she did everything else-"

"He's probably right."

The quivery voice from the right had them whipping their heads around, and there, in the entryway, stood Dawn, her arms crossed and an expression on her face that would force a king to explain himself.

As it was, Buffy couldn't talk, and Spike's heartbeat would've been chaotic if he had one.

"'Married?'" the woman exclaimed.

Buffy and Spike looked at each other, and they shared one chief emotion: Panic.

***

Dawn's pacing resembled what one might think of when they imagined an irate ferret. Her feet skittered across the floor in a quick, repetitive pattern, her arms crossed, and her hands clenched into hard fists. "You got married?!" she shouted.

Buffy was frowning, and wondering if ushering her sister into the ever comforting scene of the kitchen for some tea had been a pointless attempt in trying to calm her down; chamomile was only so effective, after all.

"Married?" Dawn demanded again.

Buffy cringed. "Sort of."

"Basically," Spike muttered in turn. Buffy sent him a scorching look, but it hardly compared to Dawn's heedless fuming.

The woman was not simply mad; she was livid. Hurt, too, and actually, stunned might be a fitting word. The air was filled with unseen summer scents like mint and cut grass and lime, but it was clear that Buffy's sister paid no attention. Dawn's breathing was angry and automatic as she paced back and forth, back and forth, putting up good competition with all the times Spike had worn holes in floors as if it was his job.

She mumbled to herself and it was the only sound to fill the quiet. Her eyes landed again on Buffy, who was setting the filled teapot down to boil. "You don't even have a ring!" Dawn yelled.

A more bewildered expression you had never seen than when Buffy froze and said, "We never discussed a ring."

Her bemused gaze fell to Spike, and he was scratching the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact. When he looked up, it was to bravely face Dawn. "Didn't get it on her finger yet, but I have it," he said.

Buffy's cheeks warmed from a reaction that wasn't her own. Tea forgotten, she moved without thinking in his direction, face displaying the same shock quickening her heart. "You what?"

Dawn felt like banging her head against a wall. "You two are unbelievable!" she screeched. Spike threw her a startled look but she doggedly continued. "You're a vampire, you guys are 'sort of' married in some weird way that hasn't been explained to me yet. My sister is going to live forever- Do not even get me started!" she added with one raised pointer finger, "-and there's a ring she doesn't even know about! I can't-" She took a deep breath and made a stopping motion with her hand. "I can't deal with you guys."

Spike's teeth ground. Biting back an agitated growl, he said, "Well, you're going to have to bloody well find a way."

Buffy blew out an exhausted breath. Tension radiated off Dawn in waves but the blonde moved closer anyway, and let her voice quiet when she said, "He's right, Dawnie."

Silence and a sharpened glint in the blue depths of her eyes was all Buffy got in reply. "This is... It's weird. And I know it's crazy, too," she said. "I'm sorry... how overwhelming everything-... Believe me, I get it. More than know." An apparent bit of understanding cooled Dawn's eyes as Buffy took a strengthening breath. "I know it's hard," she said. "But you can trust me. A-And Spike." She took a hesitant step closer, and was relieved when Dawn didn't move away.

Buffy reached up, fondly tucking a strand of brown behind one ear. "I am so sorry about dad. If there had been another- another way... Anything I could have done I would-"

Both compassion and pain flashed across her sister's face, jarring Buffy nearly as sufficiently as when Dawn interjected to say, "No, I- I know that wasn't your fault, Buffy."

Her eyes filled abruptly with water, like a shallow bucket left out in a storm. "Y- You what?"

"I know." Dawn's unyielding expression softened then, into something accepting and full of loyal affection. "It just... took me a while to accept... to understand."

"To wrap your head around it?" she asked.

"Yes." Dawn sighed, nodding. "Buffy, I'm sorry for shutting you out, for- Well, acting like a brat."

With the window above the sink open and wind chimes pinging behind it, you would think it easy to breathe in the small kitchen. You would think that the weight of newfound secrets and past revelations might be light, if for no other reason than the wind helped in carrying them outside.

But they weren't. Not until Dawn made it clear, right then, that she had dropped her grudge and confusion like a heavy crate. Hank Summers may be gone for good, but his memory had left discontent in their mail slot, and Dawn had finally trashed it. Buffy couldn't stop from wrapping her in a clutching hug.

Gathering her sister close, Dawn rolled her eyes and said, "Forgive me, huh?"

"You weren't a brat."

Dawn laughed gently. "I was stupid. I didn't understand what you were saying. What you told me about him... I just- I mean, I'm still all with the questions, you know? But I think I kind of get it now. And I'm not angry anymore."

Buffy pulled away, taking in Dawn's sweet face like a blue sky to once blind eyes. "You know I love you, right?" she asked.

Dawn blinked in surprise, then smiled a mere moment later and nodded. "I love you, too." But her open expression changed suddenly, from kind and affectionate, to irritated-younger-sibling. "Now what the hell is up with all this marriage and immortality crap?"

From zero to sixty in less than a second. That was her sister. "Uh..." Buffy smiled uncertainly. "I suppose you don't know what a claim is, huh?"

***

Dawn finally understood.

Really understood; everything. From vampire lifelines, to Spike and Darla's individuality that was so very rare for their species. From claims and what they were, to how Buffy found out she was part of one. From Spike's timely appearance in her life, to their fighting and struggling to get where they were now.

From the beginning of the story, to the end.

Buffy was lying in bed now as she waited for Spike to come back from picking up blood at the hospital. He had left once Dawn was loaded down with information and her eyelids grew heavy. She only went home following the dissection of every single angle of every little detailed truth Buffy told, and now she was off to soak it all in, explain it to Xander, then try and convince him she wasn't losing her mind.

Buffy figured they would be paying a visit tomorrow.

It was midnight when she and Spike walked Dawn to her car. The hours had gone by very quickly, despite how tedious it was to reiterate things. Buffy was still shocked at how easily Dawn accepted every bewildering fact, now that she had come around. Now that the aftermath of the emotional mudslide referred to as Hanks Summers had been cleared away. Dawn made it thoroughly, repentantly clear that she realized he had once been Buffy's dad, too, and it wasn't fair of her to question whether Buffy held the blame for his death.

Dawn was also excited about Spike and Buffy's relationship, even if she was still floating somewhere within the realm of disbelief. She would, however, remain supportive as long as Spike made her sister happy.

It was all a load off. Buffy felt lighter, relieved, like she had suddenly stood up after a lengthy, cramped car ride. Free to breathe, and with an untraveled road ahead.

They still hadn't spoken about the ring.

What she wouldn't give to have an answer on how to approach that topic. Unfortunately, Darla was MIA for any girl talk, as she had gone out again to meet an antsy Faith at the Bronze. It was three in the morning now and the vampiress was sure to return soon, but not before Buffy either fell asleep or Spike got home.

Despite the butterflies dancing in her belly, fatigue kept her gladly motionless beneath cool blankets. The mattress might as well be a cushy pile of cotton as the images in her mind were quickly fading like water stains on sundrenched cement.

She'd been meaning to call Faith back and give her the lowdown on everything that happened- Well, just about everything. Spike's undead status would soon be explained, but not quite yet.

Faith deserved to know how her friend had fallen in love. She deserved to meet the guy, get to know him, and Buffy was afraid that if she didn't go out with Faith soon, the woman might arrive on her doorstep to drag her out by the ankles come next weekend.

Buffy turned on her side and made a mental note to call Faith as soon as she woke up- Well, maybe not the very second she woke up. Tomorrow was Saturday, after all, and that meant Faith wouldn't be getting out of bed until at least noon.

The distant sound of a door opening, and the rush of awareness that told her Spike was home, somehow jarred Buffy's understanding that midnight had come and gone, and therefore morning was already here. She wished the weekends could last.

Floating in half consciousness, she heard him move around in the kitchen for a short minute. Before long, Spike's footsteps whispered on the stairs, through the hall, all the way to the bedroom door. He pushed it wider.

He was staring at her. Buffy could feel it. She soon heard the door creak shut so softly that it resembled a mouse squeak.

His eyes must be riveted, she thought. Everywhere, little flares zinged back and forth across her spine, from the tips of her toes to her scalp. Alertness followed, until Buffy felt its tickling fingers grazing her lungs. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to look at the window as he stepped out of his shoes behind her, undressing in the dark before she felt him sit down.

Spike's naked body stretched around her, and every nerve vibrated underneath his skin in reaction to the pleasant humming of hers. Buffy heard him release a sigh that sounded like the waves of the ocean at night, and his fingers traced her arm like seawater traced a shore. Hair stood up on the back of her neck, before that on her calves and thighs. She pressed the latter together, turning so she could see his face.

"Hi," Buffy whispered.

"Hello, love." His eyes were aflame with want, and hesitancy she didn't understand. "Did I wake you?" he asked with a frown.

"No." Buffy reached for his hand, stealing it from her collarbone. "Did you get what you needed?"

"Yeah," he replied, and dipped to place a kiss on her lips. "Gave a nurse a bit of a scare."

"Really?"

"Bloke was picking up the delivery, I suppose." Spike brushed his mouth across one cheek next. "Had to flash a bit of fang to get him to leave."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "You didn't have to beat anyone up?" she asked dubiously.

"Always like to. But never do." His face shifted, eyes going from blue to amber yellow right before her own. "Manage to make them scatter just fine with other things."

The room was very still, warm even, with an open window fighting the efforts of air conditioning, but Spike still shivered when her fingertips danced over his ridged brow. Buffy tended to do this sometimes, and Spike was hard pressed not to start purring. "What ring were you talking about?"

Contentment froze.

It was rather comical, Buffy thought, watching his demon eyes go all big and anxious so quick. She didn't laugh, though. She waited patiently for Spike to gather his nerve together and answer her. "Got it... when-" He swallowed hard. "When I told you I was leaving for a few days, right before your little dinner party."

*Oh.* That. She remembered that, all right. She remembered how livid he had been when he thought Riley was a threat. How before Spike showed up, Buffy was plagued by thoughts of the vampire who'd entered her life without any invitation, every other minute.

She had questioned where he went, why he wasn't driving her crazy from her backyard and instead letting his absence do the work. Now, it seemed, she had the answer. "You left to go pick out a ring?" she asked, trying to hide her disbelief.

"Partly," he hedged.

Buffy frowned. "And that took longer than a day?"

Spike changed back to his human face, rolling his blue eyes up at the headboard. "Wasn't just picking out the ring. Was giving you some space. Some... time." Shyness became him, Buffy decided, as Spike glanced away before looking her way again; his voice lowered to something gentle and timid. "Ring was just a matter of choosing the right one."

Buffy ran her fingers through soft, messy bleached curls. "How long did you look for it?"

He glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. "What's it matter?"

"Just curious."

He sighed, a very put upon and impatient sound. "Four days."

"Days?"

"Don't look so bleeding stunned!" His voice got higher. "It's not like I wanted to be going back and forth to trinket shops. Bad for my image. Looked like a right git, you know. Couldn't make up my sodding mind because I didn't know what you would like!" He pointed at her for emphasis, and Buffy's face lit up with a smile, causing him to frown even harder. "What is it?"

"You went jewelry shopping for me," she said, clearly delighted.

He made a disgusted sound, which Buffy ignored as she wrapped her arms around him and tugged. His naked body fell upon her intimately, lopsided barriers of sheets and satin the only thing in between. Her heart skipped a beat and her nerves tingled with pleasure, but she didn't allow anything to distract from the moment.

Spike's arms quickly curved around her shoulders and Buffy said, "You're so cute." He stiffened, and she sensed the forthcoming protest. "I love you," she added.

His eyes warmed. Spike shifted so he could sit up but still have her touching his chest. "Love you, Buffy," he murmured ardently, and left a kiss on her forehead.

"Now, can I have it?" she asked.

"What?" He looked down and blinked. "The ring?"

"Duh." Buffy grinned.

Spike sighed and moved reluctantly off the bed. "You women are all the same," he said. "Tell a bloke you love him, expect jewels and frills in return."

"Hey." The sheet fell, exposing her pink nightie when Buffy sat up to watch hungrily as Spike strut across the room, naked and unconcerned. But then he slipped into his jeans and made her pout.

He looked Buffy's way again when the zipper was closed. "I don't need jewelry," she said. "I just want to see what you got me." She glanced surreptitiously at her left hand. "I find I'm curious."

His eyes had suddenly darkened, and that conjured a frown. "What?"

"Nice nightgown, love," he commented, nodding at her chest. Soft, stocking thin satin suspended from the shoulders and hugged her waist until disappearing beneath the covers, eyelet lace trimming the low neckline. Rose color matching the negligee spread across her cheeks like a sunset, and Buffy shifted her legs in bed, smiling under Spike's avid attention. "I thought you might like it."

"Never one to be wrong, are you."

"Not usually."

Spike nodded stiffly, taking in her delectable form with one last greedy glance before ducking out of the room. He returned in moments, after retrieving the tiny ring box from its hiding place in a small chest he'd stashed beneath the cot down the hall. "Surprised you never found it, snoop."

Spike knelt on the bed and handed it to her, delicately, like he was afraid she might swat it away. Anxiously waiting, Buffy crossed her legs Indian style. "It was my house first. You moved in. I was allowed snooping privileges," she said. "How did you know, anyway?" She frowned suspiciously.

"Vampire, pet." Spike rose one caustic brow. "Can't hide anything."

Buffy rolled her eyes and then looked at the small ring box in her hands. "Apparently not." She quickly lifted the lid on her gift, and inside, there lay a shiny vintage ring with a rose gold mount. A round diamond glittered and winked from its inlay, surrounded by scalloped edges and ornate little floral designs embedded in the band.

About as clearly as the ring twinkled, Spike saw Buffy shudder.

Her throat tightened on a high whisper that sounded like his name.

He immediately began to feel alarmed. She lifted her head, all teary eyed, and nerves jumped beneath his skin. *God, tell me this means she likes it.*

His fears were quelled when Buffy said, "It's beautiful." She looked down again and gently examined the ring with the tips of her fingers, like it was the fragile wing of a bird. She picked it from its crevice in the velvet.

The utter look of awe on her face lent Spike some bemusement. "You- You like it?" he voiced the concern.

She glanced up again. "Of course I like it. It's- I-" Buffy shook her head. "I've never been given anything like this before. It's just-" A hard swallow went down her throat before she turned her attention back on the ring. "It's extraordinary."

Her cheeks warmed with happy color when Spike smiled, and a bit loony at that. He took her left hand then, and asked to put it on.

Slowly, gently like he was touching a porcelain doll, Buffy felt the cool metal slide over her knuckle, quickly warming from the heat of her skin. She lifted her hand up just a bit to look at it when Spike let go, but he kept a tender hold on her wrist.

"You were never given jewelry before?" he asked softly, wondering what on earth any man she'd dated in the past could have been thinking. Buffy wasn't exactly materialistic, but women loved jewelry. Even he knew that.

Buffy shook her head. "No. No one I- It never really got that serious, and I don't think any were comfortable doing..." Her voice trailed off and she lost track of what she was saying, thoughts dropping away like icicles in the spring. She stared mesmerized at the diamond on her hand.

The claim mark tingled, happiness rising inside her like the moon; now she had a ring, too! "Where'd you get it?" she asked.

Spike's voice lowered as he shrugged and said, "Guy I know."

Her brows rose and she tried to meet his eyes. "A 'guy you know?'"

"The rock's real, love, no need to worry about that," he promised. "I had a jeweler check it out."

"Spike, I didn't-" she sighed. "I just never thought you could get something like this from... someone I'm now imagining with horns on his head."

Spike rolled his eyes. "No horns. The bloke's a little... more than human, yeah, but he's not a bad guy."

"Did I say he was a bad guy?"

He blinked. "Well, no, but-"

"What does he have?" she asked curiously, interrupting.

A smirk sprang across his lips. "Skin you'd never see in a cosmetics commercial, let's leave it at that."

Buffy laughed quietly. "Will I ever get to meet this... whatever he may be? I'd like to thank him."

Spike smiled genially. "If you want."

"I want." She leaned up and hugged him. Fiercely, her arms wrapped the vampire in warmth he could never create on his own and would never tire of feeling. She bled into him, heating the coldness in his bones, and leaving him with the feeling of working lungs.

When she pulled away, still only mere inches from his face, she said, "Thank you," with her heart in her voice.

Spike brushed fingers down her arm, tickling awareness upon her skin like sprinkling water. "Deserve it, kitten."

"Don't you have one?" Buffy asked.

"One what?"

"A ring," she explained.

"I will," he said, looking abashed before his eyes dropped to her neckline. "Wanted to make sure you liked this one first, was all, before picking another for myself."

"I love this one. Don't want any other one. Ever. As a matter of fact, you can just right off any other jewelry presents in the future."

Spike smiled tenderly at that, head tilting. "I can, eh?"

Buffy scooted closer, jovial warmth in her eyes. "Nothing else will compare."

"Got it." He tugged her left hand out from behind him. "Friends are going to ask about this, you know." He tapped her newly adorned finger.

"Let them ask." Buffy smiled at him. "I'll tell them we eloped or something."

"Don't know how little sis will feel about that," he commented, but shook his head in wonder. "Bloody hell, feel like I'm drowning. Always do when I'm around you."

Her brow puckered. "I hope this is going to start sounding like a good thing very soon."

"Can't kill a dead man, love," he said with a shrug. "Wouldn't have it any other way. I love you. Don't care if that does manage to turn me into the tamest vamp in town, either. You're all I give a bloody damn about."

"Love you, too, cheese-ball," she murmured happily. "And you could never be tame." There was a familiar spark when she leaned in and brushed her lips against his mouth, the sort that could conjure fire from snow. "Kissage now, please."

He let out a laugh that she quickly silenced, and all hilarity melted away in the space of a second.

Spike pressed Buffy to the mattress, and there was magic. Like parallel chords on a guitar or violin making music from the way you touched them. Or the way soft lips compressed into a sensual smile out of a smirk. Indulgence was steeped in lust and heart, and they moved together like the partners they had always been.

They touched with greed, effortlessly falling into one another like the waves of the ocean. Spike tore off his jeans without leaving the bed and Buffy wrapped her legs around him, impatiently hiking her satin negligee up to her waist.

There was no foreplay, no urgent want for anything but meeting at the hips. Spike drove inside her welcoming body, and Buffy's sigh of completion was louder than her jackhammer heartbeat.

It was always like this. Always hot even when one of them was cold. Always uncontainable, wild. She stroked her fingers through his hair in gripping runs, tightening her legs around his body with every thrust. Gasping his name, Buffy scored her nails down his back.

Spike growled into her throat and grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the bed. His cock plunged deep and all she did was moan and chant his name in hot whispers. Buffy's hips lifted restlessly, striving to keep him filling her every time he left. Her throat rose on an arching moan, before he linked the fingers of their left hands together. The diamond ring heated between fevered and icy skin alike as their eyes met.

A flash of fangs made her tremble while ecstasy shot through her body. Sweat beaded across her breasts, and little needles of pleasure trickled down, under her skin to gather in the pit of her stomach. Buffy felt her nipples rub against satin as Spike thrust deeper, his chest flattened to hers. Whimpers and sighs came faster, ripping through the still air as she felt Spike's lust and hunger wrack him from the inside out.

The demon growled lowly when she cried his name again. "That's my girl... C'mon now, let me feel you. Need you to- Christ!" Buffy squeezed his cock with those inner muscles no one talked about and grabbed his ass, keeping him tight up against her. His right hand let go of her wrist to wrap around the nape of her neck, and Spike twisted his hips, rolling them with the next plunge of his cock.

"Oh, God!" Buffy called out, writhing beneath him. She felt fangs in her throat and all was lost. Her climax caused her to break out in violent shudders. Spike's followed quickly behind, a loud snarl echoing into her skin as he drank with fervor the blood from her veins. He yanked himself back when the aftershocks filled his body with unnatural warmth. Desperate thrusts turned into gentle rocking motions and Buffy finally fell calm beneath him, except for the deep breaths that shook her ribs.

"Bloody hell," he swore, lapping worshipfully at the holes in her neck and gasping his words. "What else do you like besides jewelry?"

Buffy smiled against his skin, laughing when he shuddered above her. "I like you," she replied.

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END NOTES: Final chapter will be up SUPER soon! (Like seriously, look for it tomorrow, probably.)
Again, big thanks to everyone for reading and for the great reviews! I have loved every minute of this story, and I hope you all have, too! *huggles*

Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter with all its cheesiness, Demanding Dawn, ending smut, and diamond rings (was that too cliche? I shouldn't have been surprised at myself when I thought of it. I've written it once before, after all. Must be my Something Blue feels rising up). And was the chapter title to ridiculous? I thought of it at like 3am, so tell me how awful it was because I might not realize it myself for like a year. It's kind of too late though, isn't it? Oh well. Anyway, let me know what you thought! ;)





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