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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N...so many thanks to give. Schez for helping me brainstorm the ideas, Holly for cracking the whip, Tami for just enjoying, Mandi for the graphic love, spikes_petslayer and icemink for the extra graphics. I would be so much less without you all.

And you, the readers, your enthusiasm means more than you could ever know. I definitely finished this fic more for you than me. I hope this is a satisfactory ending for all.

As to whether or not to post new fics on this site, I haven't decided. The support since my mini breakdown has been wonderful. If this is the only place that you read my fic, and you really want to continue reading new stuff, let me know. But in the meantime, than you for everything.~~Megan
Epilogue

Buffy watched Spike navigate the excited patrons of The Bronze with a handful of sodas for her and her friends, as well as a beer for himself. The man was super skilled, and just watching the way he flashed his golden eyes at the rowdy bunch—forcing them to part frantically away from his path so as to not spill a drop—always made her heart melt. Considering her past—considering her job—she was surprised that the little reminders of his vampirism didn’t wig her out. She tried to block out the occasional thoughts on why it didn’t make her sad each time he bit her. Why she didn’t see him as the same unsouled monsters that her first love had been—that her mother had become—without their metaphysical leash.

Instead, the flash of his bumpies usually got her hot. And weak. And led to naughtiness of the so good variety. Naughtiness that she hadn’t tired of in the slightest since her life had wildly changed course in the past year.

They lived together as a couple in the house she’d called home ever since she’d moved to Sunnydale. Faced with the bank taking the house due to her mother’s lack of forward planning and actually having a will, Giles had shown how much he was not highly regarded by the council by taking responsibility of the house when his employers had laughed him off the phone during an inquiry about paying Buffy for slaying. However, a year changed things and since she’d turned eighteen, they’d gotten their own back on the miserly council. Giles hadn’t dared betray her with that funny crucifying b’day gift—not when Spike had rather colourfully explained to him what he’d do with his severed head if the Watcher even dared go along with the patriarchal institution. And, paling considerably, Giles had seen the benefits of Spike’s point of view. Instead, they’d caught Quentin Travers and pitted him against the hand-picked monster and watched him squeal.

After that, anything Buffy wanted, Buffy got. Life was so sweet she was putting on weight.

Spike made it back to the crowded table, the leather of his coat finally relaxing around his form and Buffy’s heart could start calming. Every time he moved she felt breathless; the sexiness of his lithe grace got her heart into overdrive every single time, and Buffy wondered if she’d ever get comfy with him like an old married couple. Not that she wanted unspontaneous, comfortable sex. She was totally happy with what she had of the now.

He smiled as he placed her coke on the table in front of her. She took one quick sip and then held out her hand, her eyes sparkling and her skin hot.

“Wanna dance?” She held her breath as he cocked his head to the side, watching her and then sweeping a swift, obscene look over her tight fitted shirt and short skirt.

“With you, pet?” he drawled huskily, sex just oozing from every look and move. “Always.” He took her hand and they slowly took pride of place amongst the party, the graduating class high on life and victory.

“Did you see how we took down that hu—freaking-mongous snake? Man, that was some awesome shit!” one teen screamed over the music to his surrounding friends, and they laughed and slapped each other on the back, even gave some hugs as they celebrated another year on the Hellmouth and staying alive.

Buffy giggled before high fiving a short boy in her class before finally focusing all her attention on Spike, feeling his hands sneak up the back of her shirt and stroking the bare skin at his fingertips. Even in this crowd she wanted more of his touch, didn’t care if people saw what he did to her. There was envy in more than one female face that observed her with him, and Buffy loved it.

Spike pulled her body closer to his, and the expected swell of his cock settled snugly against her. The brush of his fingers against her belly set blazing shots of desire straight through her, focusing all their potential power in the centres of pleasure. God she wanted him—always wanted to feel him inside her. And on days like today, when they were successful in saving the world, it made her crave him even more.

He always knew what she wanted from him, and with barely a look from her desire hazed eyes, he’d lowered lips always hungry for her kiss and Buffy melted right there on the dance floor. It never got old, never lost its intensity—this thing between them. Every time they joined, every time he bit her and renewed his connection to her, she felt the approval of powers she’d never met, except for that strange little guy that had warned them about Miss Calendar’s almost tragedy.

Buffy moaned, lost in how soft his lips were, how wet his tongue was, and how hot her body was becoming. It was time for a breath of fresh air, and with a tormented push away, she grabbed his hand and tugged him to the exit. A quick look at his knowing smirk made her blush, but Buffy knew Spike wouldn’t complain.

They found a dark spot in the alley behind The Bronze and Spike didn’t wait for any words, just shoved her hard against the brick wall and tugged up her skirt.

“Need this, don’t you, pet? Need to know you’re alive and Spike’s just the vamp to show you.” Deft fingers found the crotch of her panties, damp from dancing, desire and life. He tugged them down her legs, careful now he was responsible for replacing anything he tore, and watched as Buffy lifted one stilettoed foot out of the leg. Black lace settled sensually around her other ankle as Buffy lifted her leg and curled her knee over his hip.

“Shut. Up,” she warned with a smile, pleasure already rippling through her body as her hand taunted his cock with an experienced rub and a squeeze through the denim of his jeans. Buffy finally took pity on that face screwed up in desperate need, loving the panting breathlessness that never stopped surprising her as he anticipated her touch on his engorged flesh. She popped the button and watched as the weight of his cock alone pushed the zipper part ways down. A little more help and Buffy revealed his ass—thanks to leaving his duster over a stool inside—more than likely glowing in the alley but giving her flesh to touch with her inner thigh and knee.

There was no need to lift her higher, the red stiletto doing much more than getting him revved for the fuck of his life against an alley wall. Spike’s cock probed the place he wished he could stay permanently. He nudged his way in, groaning at the heated slippery tunnel that wrapped itself tight around him, encouraging him in inch by swelling inch with nothing but the pulsing muscles of her body. It was like being massaged when they did this, and even though they both knew beyond a doubt that it was love every single time, there was something so incredibly hot in seeing it as a fuck—hot and raw and elemental to both their natures. There was a mental violence in every joining, and Spike felt the need to pound into her overwhelm him as he started the first real thrusts, feeling his girl ripple and shake as sensation fed the craving. He caught sight of the twisted panty dangling against her ankle and the hotness of it in the dirty alley had him want to give her marks, almost hoped the brick work would scratch against her lower back and add the pain to the pleasure.

The slow working of his cock in and out of her was mesmerising, and each time he pulled out he saw the panties. It excited him and he found the surge in his balls almost excruciating as his semen rushed through the length of his cock like a hurtling runaway train and he was spurting inside Buffy without warning. He roared his release, but never slowed. It exhausted him but Buffy wasn’t ready and he was still hard, desperate to thrust her into an explosion as fierce as his own and wanting desperately for her to see stars.

When her head suddenly flung back and she didn’t even flinch at the crack of her skull against bricks, he knew it was a clear sky in slayer heaven tonight, littered with many sparkly stars. He pumped until he felt raw, but then he experienced another pulsing orgasm following such a subtle build up that it took him completely unawares.

The comedown was sticky, but Buffy laughed her way through it, her face flushed and her eyes slightly unfocused. “Whoa. This is so gonna kill me one day.”

“Not likely, kid.”

“Arghhhhh!!! Go away!!” Buffy shouted at the greasy little intruder with the funky hat as she struggled to push Spike away and tried to aim her shaking limb back through the leg of her panties and drag them up to cover her butt.

An amused chuckle was shared between the small demon and Spike, and Buffy punched her boyfriend hard in the chest, glaring at him for finding the interruption so funny.

“You so want to die, don’t you?” There was fire in her eyes as she turned to the weaselly little interrupter, and as humiliated as she was, she was the Slayer and this guy was fixing to lose his ribcage. “Just why are you here? Again?”

“Hello to you too, Slayer.” Whistler grinned at the quiet rage building up in the girl with the world both on her shoulders and at her feet and sighed. The Powers had shown much wisdom choosing this vampire over the other to be her eternal mate. The catastrophes his previous idea for a match that had been averted with the simplicity of love was breathtaking.

“Seriously, you’re risking all your—” Buffy paused as she contemplated that favourite phrase and decided she could contemplate the possible removal of bits with Spike because it included suggestive fondling, but for this annoying demon? So not finishing the thought. “Hats,” she finished weakly, stomping in frustration on Spike’s booted foot with her sharp heel as he snickered at her back.

“Oh, can’t have that. Only got one hat. An’ she’s special.” He stroked the repulsive thing and Buffy cringed.

“Your hat is female? That’s just….ewww. You are so weird.” Buffy looked away from him, smoothed down her hair and made sure her clothes looked a little less askew, avoiding everything to do with the being that was looking at her.

“Came to give my condolences. Losing your mom and all.”

Buffy had dealt with what had happened—she really had—but she’d mourned the loss of a woman, not the emergence of a vampire; perhaps that was why she found it so easy to accept everything about Spike, warts and all. Still, it kind of irked her that this guy was dredging up the pain all over again.

“Gee, you’re all about the punctual.” She felt churlish, arms crossed and confrontational. And her fist itched to knock that grin right off his face.

“Got held up. Seemed like a souled vampire got sent to Hell and I had to work out what to do with him. Time just flies by in Hell. Interesting place. Kinda hot, though. Singed my trench coat.”

Buffy so didn’t care. At least, she didn’t want to care. But then interest snagged her and she looked at him intently. “Angel got his soul back? Before he dusted?”

“Oh yeah,” answered Whistler with a joke in his voice. “Miscalculated that one, big time.”

“Bloody poof deserved a bit of suffering,” Spike interjected as he lit up and moved away in irritation. Buffy smiled indulgently. He always got that way around the Angel topic. She didn’t bring him up anymore, much preferring the less broody Spike, rather than the Spike he became when talk of Angel occurred. But Xander would pop the name in as often as he could—it was long standing entertainment to frustrate Spike to fangs. It had become a bonding opportunity for him and Giles, the elder finding the boy not quite as useless as he once had.

“So, you’re what? Dropping in on your way from Hell? Again, why?” Buffy’s foot was tapping now; she was impatient for the twerp to be gone so she and Spike could go back inside and commiserate the end of high school with her friends.

He sighed in exasperation. “Told you. Also checking up that you two are still with the happy happy, joy joy. Got to hand it to those Powers; when they pick champions to fuse together, they get it right! Left to me, kid, and your life might have ended up a disaster.”

“Pshyeah, like you have anything to do with my life.” Buffy had an awful feeling in her gut, remembering the night she and Spike had shared something so extraordinarily unique and became one together. Was it destiny, or had their relationship been engineered?

“Destiny’s a funny bloke. Seems to think he’s got a swanky hat and a sense of humour. You know he’d be wrong, don’t you?” Spike asked with a definite edge to his voice. It hadn’t been hard to see the flinch on Buffy’s face as soon as it was suggested that whatever had happened between them maybe hadn’t happened on its own. He could see the wheels turning, the dread beginning to take root that they’d been manipulated and the good life that they’d built together was based on a lie.

Except it wasn’t.

Spike knew his heart—probably better than his head—and he knew without even having to think about it that whatever had sent him, suicidal, into the path of the Slayer and then the subsequent events that saw them bond closer than any other vampire and slayer, was based on nothing more than his own whims and insecurities. Not some Higher Being throwing a monkey wrench in to cock up Peaches’s path. Yeah, so he knew that the sculpted git was more than likely meant to return to Buffy, shiny soul intact after he’d killed a few people and broken her heart. He wasn’t sobbing at the change, but he wasn’t thanking the faceless Powers for it. As far as he was concerned, their union might have been approved by the Heavens or even God, but he’d done all the work. He’d made the decision, and he wouldn’t have this little wanker make Buffy doubt him now.

“You ever heard of free will?” Hesitant nods. “We just put our stamp of approval on it. You guys did the thing by getting yourselves together; the Powers were just giving you the big red tick in bold.”

Buffy released a very obvious held breath and laughed nervously. “So, gold star for us, huh? Who’d a thought anyone would see us as more than a freak show?”

Spike barked out a laugh, having heard that particular phrase before and not so much in reference to the slayer/vampire element of the equation. It usually came down to the assumed age gap or the peroxided hair and coat that made people’s brows raise in judgement. Being happily in love gave them the humour to just laugh and move on. It was a beautiful feeling to be so confident in his partner’s love.

“Well, kids, gotta go. Got a souled vampire to find a destiny for. Oh, and hey, might want to cut back on the expensive face creams. That mug’s not gonna age, so you may as well save some bucks.” Whistler winked at Buffy’s shocked face and blinked out of sight.

Leaving them with just one more thing to think about.

Destiny and Eternity.





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