Banner by Spikeskat

It was cold in the shadows.  Not that he usually felt the cold, not physically anyway.  Oh, he was aware that it was cold, but in an abstract way.  But today, with the sun shining high in the cloudless sky, when everybody around him was happy and wearing bright, summer colours – today, he felt it. 

He waited until they’d all gone inside, all except one.  She was late, but it was her prerogative, her big day.  He wondered who would give her away?  Giles, probably.  Maybe Xander.  Possibly Willow; Red would love that, getting to wear the tux.  The sound of the limo pulling up dragged his attention away from the church entrance. 

He’d been dreading this moment – and longing for it.  It had been four years since he’d last seen her, and even though his long-dead heart was crumbling in his chest, he craned his neck as the door to the limo opened. 

Ah.  Giles then.  Good.  She’d need his support, and it must be a proud day for him.  She was finally getting her normal life.  Good for her. 

Inside, he was dying. 

More. 

Time stopped as Giles bent and stretched out his hand, reaching into the darkened interior of the car and drawing back.  He was grasping her hand, Spike knew, recognised even that insignificant part of her, his throat closing with emotion as the hand became an arm, a shoulder…a slender neck.  Her face. 

Spike took a step forward, barely noticing as his skin began to sizzle, only stepping back when his hand caught fire.  He cursed up a blue storm as he smothered the flames, ignoring the pain.  In comparison to the pain he was already feeling, it was little more than an ant-bite anyway. 

Beautiful.  Hair swept up into a simple chignon, no veil, a dainty tiara.  Her dress was a classic sheath, off the shoulder with a bandeau bodice, draped tight about her slim form and sliding across the floor behind her as she smiled at Giles, took his arm and moved towards the entrance to the church. 

Spike watched through eyes blurry with tears as she moved away from him, always moving away.   Wait! he wanted to shout, you’re making a mistake.  But she wasn’t and he didn’t.  He bowed his head, unable to watch her walk through the door and out of his world forever.  Again. 

And still he couldn’t leave, had to see it through.  Had to wait to watch her as she came out happy and smiling and ready to start her normal life with her normal husband in her normal house with its normal door.  Behind which, no doubt, there would be lots of normal sex leading to lots of normal babies… 

“Buffy,” he whispered, no louder than the flap of a butterfly’s wing – and at the top of the steps Buffy stopped and turned, Giles turning with her. 

“Buffy?  Are you alright?” Giles queried, failing to find anything that would draw her attention. 

For a moment, the blushing bride simply stared out into the street, narrowing her eyes as she searched…for something… 

With a sigh, she shook her head, finally, turning back and gifting Giles with a haunted smile. 

“Yes.  I’m fine.  It was just…I thought there was someone…silly really.  And I’ve no idea why I would think…”  Buffy took a deep breath and then tried a brighter smile.  “Shall we?  Don’t want them all thinking I’ve done a Julia Roberts, do we?” 

Giles patted her hand and carried on walking, throwing one anxious look over his shoulder as they reached the door.  She hadn’t said, but he knew who she was looking for, who she was hoping to see.  But he wouldn’t dare to come today.  Not after all that had passed and the harsh words that had been spoken the last time the vampire came calling at his door.

Five weeks after the apocalyptic showdown in the alleyway, LA: 

Spike stretched out his neck and settled the soft leather of his duster around his shoulders, thanking the Powers that the weather in London was murky grey rain.  He wanted to get this over and done with, and having to wait for the sun to set would have really pissed him off.  He’d made the decision to come once he’d healed from the battle-wounds that had almost dusted him, and it had taken him a good few weeks for that to happen, but now that he was here, he was nervous as hell. 

It had been over a year since he’d seen her, and he was expecting to be met with the point of a stake, for many reasons.  For one, the last time Angel had spoken to Giles, asked for help with Fred, the Watcher was dismissive and scathing, not even listening as Angel explained that he was fully aware of the dangers of being inside Wolfram and Hart and that he was still wearing a white hat.  As far as Giles was concerned, Angel was tainted with the evil of the law firm, and by association, so was Spike. 

Second – well, it had been over a year that he’d been solid through and not one word had he spoken to Buffy in all that time. He’d never tried to contact her, never sent her a ‘sorry I burned your hand in the hellmouth and rebuffed your love – but look I’m back  now’ card. 

And standing here, on the slippery step to the unprepossessing mid-terraced, three storey house far beyond the outskirts of fashionable London, he couldn’t come up with a satisfactory explanation as to why he hadn’t. 

Still, he was here now, and getting wetter by the second, so he knocked on the door and thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat, toeing the ground and watching the bubbles form  as he swept his foot across the stone step. Deep within the recesses of the house he heard voices and footsteps approaching the door.  Chewing on his lip he took a steadying, yet useless, breath as the door opened, and looked up right into the eyes of a shocked Watcher. 

“Hey, Rupes.  Was passin’, thought I’d drop in.” 

Giles was frozen to the spot, his mouth open and glasses steaming up with the unrelenting rain that was already plastering his hair to his head.  The door behind him was ajar and Spike tried to look past him down the hall, aching, now that he’d taken the plunge, to see her.  As Spike stepped to one side to get a better view, Giles shook himself and moved to block him. 

“What are you doing here, Spike.  You’re not welcome.” 

“Oh, nice way to greet the returning hero.  Where’s the bunting and the bloody brass band?” 

Pulling the door on the latch behind him, Giles took a step towards the vampire and hissed “You’ve got a bloody nerve coming here.  Like I told Angel, as far as I’m concerned, he crossed the line, and all his companions with him.  And as for the returning hero, from what Andrew told me you may well have been indentured to Wolfram and Hart by your immolation.  For all we know, Angel set it all up, delivering their gaudy necklace to Buffy knowing you’d be the one to wear it, ensuring your return to boost his ranks.  It all seems very convenient, don’t you think?” 

Spike opened his mouth to speak, but was beaten to it by the Watcher as he continued his rant. 

“And don’t think a quick flash of your blue eyes is going to have any effect on Buffy.  You did her a favour in Sunnydale, disappearing as you did, and I thought you’d realised how ridiculous your obsession with her was.  You haven’t exactly been breaking all barriers to get to her, have you?” 

Oh, that was too much.  Spike snarled and Giles took a step back, fumbling for the doorknob and gratefully darting back behind the sanctuary of the unseen barrier that would keep the vampire from entering the property. 

“Look, you sanctimonious prick! You’ve no right to get all high and mighty on me.  What’s between me and Buffy’s between me and Buffy, so say one more word, and I will bite you.  And this thing you’ve got about Angel – you really think he turned?  Soft sod fought to the end, went down battling a bloody dragon – so I think you can come down off the moral high ground now.  Good friends of mine died saving this sorry-arsed world – again – and where were you?  Tucked up all snug in bed with a goodnight story?  Cataloguing your nose-hairs?  So – Watcher- why don’t you run off like a good chap and fetch the Slayer.  Me and the girl have unfinished business.  Chop, chop!”  Spike waved his hand in a dismissive shoo and smirked at the red-faced Englishman. 

“No.” 

“No!  Are you off your chump?  I’m not movin’ from here, so fetch her, don’t fetch her – she’ll have to leave some time and I will speak to her.  May as well be now, or I’ll annoy the neighbours with my Pistols’ repertoire.  Your choice.” 

Giles stepped over the invisible barrier and ended up toe to toe with the vampire, uncaring now of the danger he posed.  “You leave her alone.  She hardly spoke for two weeks after you…after the hellmouth.  She was skin and bone, ate less than a sparrow and spent every day locked away in her room.  We tried everything to get her involved, but in the end it was only when Dawn had an accident and had to go to hospital that she started to rally round.  Since then, she’s making progress day by day – but seeing you will set her right back.  Now, if you care for her half as much as you claim to, do you really want to see her suffer?  It’s hardly as if you can give her the future she deserves, is it?  What would happen, Spike, if by some quirk of fate she agrees to resume your quite frankly puzzling relationship?  Would you get a 9 to 5 job, make sure the mortgage is paid and there’s food on the table?  And when she’s sixty or so, and you still look like a young man – what then?  Angel isn’t my favourite being, I’ll admit, but I have to give him his due, he realised a relationship with Buffy was doomed and did the right thing.  Pity you don’t have the decency to do the same.” 

Spike set his jaw and ground his teeth, holding Giles’ icy stare with one of his own.  But behind his bravado, the doubt set in.  Truth was, he’d been thinking along the same lines.  Once he’d conquered the lack of corporeal solidity and been physically able to leave LA and go find Buffy, he’d second-guessed himself constantly as to why he hadn’t.  He’d made excuses: Team Angel needed him, he was carrying out his duty as a bona fide hero, he didn’t know what to say to her, what would Dawn do?  And when he and Angel had travelled to Rome and discovered her shimmying with the Immortal – well, he’d pretty much accepted that all he would ever have of paradise was that final night in the basement before the battle of Sunnydale.  He’d made his peace with it, or thought he had, throwing himself fully into the ‘help the helpless’ gig that Angel had gotten such a kick out of.  It wasn’t a bad way to spend his time, and as he’d told Giles, he had made friends. Good friends, his friends, not second-hand ones.  Friends that he missed with gut-wrenching intensity.  It was that feeling, finally, that had led him here.  He had nothing else left but the burning of his love for Buffy Summers – and he had to know if that flame was always going to burn in the darkness alone. 

Finally, Spike dropped his head and took a step back, diffusing the tension on the doorstep.  He made a performance out of locating his cigarettes and lighting up.  “I take your point, Rupes.  Don’t necessarily agree with it, but I hear you.  Still think you should let the girl decide; you’ve no idea what strength she carries inside her.  You might let her use it, sometime.” 

Impasse reached, and threat of imminent death averted it appeared, Giles relaxed a little and surprised the vampire by holding out a hand for a cigarette of his own.  Spike shrugged and handed over the packet and the gaudy plastic lighter he’d been reduced to, his own trusty and treasured silver one having disappeared and presumably buried deep within the crater that had once been Sunnydale. 

“Pink?” Giles noted, as he handed it back.  “Not your usual style.” 

“Yeah.  Fancied a change.  Matched Peaches’ eyes.” 

Giles threw him a quizzical look and motioned out into the rain, indicating a walk.  Spike nodded and kept step as they left the house behind.  He risked a glance back as they turned the corner, watching until he couldn’t see the door any more. 

“So?”  Giles asked, not bothering to elaborate.  They both knew what the question was. 

Spike sighed.  “You win.  But I don’t agree with what you’re doing, and I’m not promisin’ that I’ll stay away forever.  An’ you’ve gotta promise me that if she needs me, you’ll call.  An’ if she asks about me, you tell her the truth.  What happened, that I came back, the fight, Angel…the whole lot.  Deal?” 

Giles considered.  It was a fairly safe promise to make; Buffy would never need Spike, not as long as he was around, and she never mentioned his name any more, never mind ask about him.  No; she’d assigned her incomprehensible obsession with the vampire to the past, left it behind in Sunnydale.  It was ended. 

“Deal.” 

“Good then.”  Spike stopped walking and turned to the Watcher.  “I’ll know if you lie to me.  And I’ll be around.  ‘m not leavin’ her to your tender mercies.  As long as I’m not dust, I’ll be watchin’ over her.” 

“I know.  But you won’t approach her, not unless I say.  I’m thinking of Buffy, Spike, much as you’d like to imagine I’m doing this for some kind of grudge against you.  She’s my only concern.” 

“Yeah, and it’s only for that reason that I’m letting you push me away.  But if she asks…”  Spike couldn’t help clinging on to the hope that one day Buffy would ask the question, and Giles would tell her all.  He was giving his word, and there was one thing that Giles wasn’t, and that was an oath-breaker. 

“If she asks…” 

Spike pursed his lips, met Giles’ eyes, and nodded silently, turning on his heel and striding off into the distance.  Giles watched until there was nothing on the horizon but the bustle of afternoon businesses shutting up shop.  Truth was, he’d been expecting Spike to turn up ever since he’d discovered he’d joined Angel’s crew.  For the whole year, nothing, other than Andrew reporting that he and Angel had been to Buffy’s apartment in Rome, but thankfully she’d been out and inexplicably, Andrew had kept his mouth shut about her visitors.  And even though it had been reported that all of Angel’s compatriots had perished in the battle with the darkness, Giles had an idea that he hadn’t seen the last of the blond vampire. 

Now all he had to do was avoid Buffy wanting to reminisce, and Spike could be forgotten as they all got on with their lives. 

Inside the old church, Dawn was waiting for her sister, in a stylish off-the-shoulder gown in dusky pink.  Willow had declined the honour of being a bridesmaid, citing the debacle of Xander and Anya’s wedding as an excuse and insisting she be allowed to wear a tux instead.  So, Buffy had settled on just Dawn, which seemed appropriate; after all, it had been just her and Dawn for so long now.  Sometimes she felt so very guilty that her sister was missing out on life.  Dawn had turned down the chance to study in Paris, and though she said it was because she had made friends in London, Buffy knew it was really because she was still not convinced that her big sister would be able to take care of herself without a minder.  Consequently, the two girls had become closer than Buffy would ever have thought possible, and for that, at least, she was grateful.  They hugged, Dawn fiddling with Buffy’s hair to make sure it was all smoothed down, arranging the back of her dress so that it was draped just right. 

“’kay, Buffy – you all set? Got your something old, something new sorted?” 

“Uh huh, all covered.  New shoes, blue ribbon on the inside of my dress, earrings from Willow and…this.” 

Buffy proffered her bouquet, where an oblong, silver lighter nestled at its heart.  Dawn tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears and she had to turn away, pretending to check her own hair reflected in the glass that covered the parish noticeboard.  Giles frowned, not sure why Dawn was obviously upset, and then he remembered.  A pink, plastic lighter instead of the well-worn one the vampire was always flicking open; it hadn’t disappeared into the hellmouth – Buffy had it as a keepsake. 

Noticing Giles’ consternation, Buffy touched him lightly on the arm.  “It was the oldest thing I had.  And…and somehow, it makes me feel as if he’s here.  I always did do better when he was watching my back.” 

Giles paled.  Spike was here, of that he was sure.  And it wasn’t the first time in the intervening years that the vampire had been near.  But, true to his word, he’d never tried to interfere.  It seemed as long as Buffy was doing okay, he’d leave her alone.  Giles was so completely lost in his own thoughts that Buffy had to nudge him twice to signal she was ready to walk down the aisle. 

“Oh.  Yes.  Sorry – miles away.”  He smiled, and looked at her properly.  Her make-up was subtle and perfect, her cheeks rosy and her lips plump.  But no amount of powder could hide the hint of shadow beneath her eyes, nor the dullness of her gaze where there should have been such joy.  It was as if she was fulfilling a role, and she’d nearly fooled him. 

If it hadn’t been for the lighter… 

And then the Wedding March started and the doors opened and they were walking slowly down the aisle, nodding to the small congregation as they made their way to the flower-covered altar and the smiling vicar. 

The music stopped and Giles stepped aside and symbolically placed Buffy’s hand in that of her fiancé.  Mark was as normal as they came, average height, brown hair, worked in the civil service.  He had no idea of Buffy’s powers or of her past, and he represented everything that Giles wished for on Buffy’s behalf to ensure that she had a demon-free and happy life.  Dawn had voiced her concerns that Buffy wasn’t really cut out for that much of a normal life, but Giles had demurred.  Buffy had more than carried out her duty and Faith was leading the battle now, ably assisted by Robin Wood and the army of slayers that Willow had activated.  It was more than time, he told her, that Buffy felt able to do what every other young woman wanted – marry, have a family, travel.  In face of that, Dawn backed down, but she rarely spent any time in Mark’s presence, citing pressure of school. 

Giles slid into his pew, next to Willow, and sat as the ceremony began.  He tried to ignore Dawn’s snivelling to his right, hoped Buffy wouldn’t pay it any attention.  In the end, he leaned towards the younger Summers and asked her what was wrong. 

Dawn sniffled and wiped her nose before whispering, “This isn’t right.  I know, Mark’s all normal and all that, but Giles – you know she doesn’t love him.  She’ll never be happy with normal, none of us would after what we’ve been through.” 

Giles was horrified; had he miscalculated, was Dawn right?  It all started to make sense, the way Buffy was.  She never got excited about anything, just smiled pleasantly, nodded her approval.  Her courtship with Mark had been almost accidental, as if she was being swept along by events and didn’t have the energy to refuse.  They’d all been so happy for her, that they hadn’t bothered to check if she was happy for herself. 

“…if there is any person here present who knows of any lawful impediment…” 

The silence that followed those words at every wedding ceremony was abruptly broken by Giles’ commanding tone as he stood and shouted “Stop!” 

There were gasps throughout the church, all eyes trained on him as he stood and nervously removed his glasses and fiddled with them, the handkerchief he tried to tug out of the top pocked of his jacket a faux one, just a piece of material sewn on.  He cleared his throat, because he obviously needed to say more than ‘stop’.  Seeing Buffy's relieved eyes as she gave the hint of a nod , gave him the impetus to carry on. 

“I’m so very sorry, for interrupting but I really felt I had to say something.  It was a now or never thing, to be honest.”  A few chuckles echoed around the church, followed by nervous coughs.  He faltered as Mark shot him a bewildered look, his eyes clearly moist, and struggling to keep his composure.  “Buffy.  I’m so sorry I let it get this far, and you have every right to hate me.  But I can’t let you do this.  It’s wrong.”  Dawn reached out a hand and wrapped her fingers around his, squeezing to give him strength.  “You don’t love Mark.  I’m sorry, Mark, but it’s true.  And you’d never be happy being ‘normal’.  Spike was right.” 

Buffy took a step forward, her eyes huge, at the mention of the man who still had all of her heart.  Unconsciously, she reached into the bouquet and grabbed hold of his lighter, gaining strength from the familiar weight in her hand.  Time and again over the last four years she’d stroked the worn surface, felt the metal grow warm against her skin.  Just as he had.  She laid the bouquet down and tugged at Mark’s arm until he faced her.  Giles had given her the opening, she needed to walk through it. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.  “You really don’t know me, and you don’t deserve this.  But trust me – if you still can – we wouldn’t be good together.  I’ve been…kind of asleep, I guess.  But now I’m awake, and I can’t be the woman you need me to be.  You see,” and she leant towards him, lowering her voice further, “vampires are real – and I’m the vampire slayer.” 

Any response Mark was about to make was lost as the doors at the back of the church were flung wide, bouncing off the walls either side, to frame a figure dressed all in black – and slightly smouldering. 

Buffy felt dizzy, reaching out for support, Dawn springing up to stand beside her sister and gripping her hand.  It couldn’t be… 

“Spike!” Buffy gasped, convinced the dieting to get into the dress was responsible for the hallucination she was seeing.  “Spike?” 

“Buffy – is it really him?” Dawn asked breathlessly, thereby shooting Buffy’s low sugar theory down in tatters. 

The ‘him’ in question looked nervously at the saints and crosses along the walls, the shafts of sunlight that dappled the stone floor, and took a few steps forward. 

“Giles?” Buffy whispered, seeking reassurance that she wasn't dreaming.  In response, he stepped to her side and hugged her, kissing her cheek and tilting her face up so that their eyes met. 

“He's real, Buffy.  I've been a damn fool, and I hope one day you can forgive me.  I was blinded by my prejudices and my only excuse is that I thought it was for the best.”  Buffy couldn't take in what he was saying, struggling to think straight, distracted as she was by the tingling at her neck that was so familiar and triggered by only to one being.  “Go to him, and be happy.” 

Giles gave her a little shove, Buffy stumbling a little as she tried to walk against the tight sheath of her dress.  Murmurs became distinct words of shock as she bent down and ripped the seam of the skirt, beamed a smile at Dawn as she threw the bouquet – after retrieving the precious lighter – and hightailed it back along the aisle to throw herself into the arms of the admittedly handsome and very pale stranger at the back of the church. 

The buzz of conversation stopped as the two blondes pulled away from each other and stood gazing into each other’s eyes.  Hands ghosted over hair, face, arms and while there were no spoken words, much was said.  Buffy looked down eventually to watch her hand as it settled over Spike’s chest, her lips curving into a smile as she felt the lack of heartbeat, her smile becoming a tinkling laugh as she looked up to find Spike raising his eyebrow in familiar fashion. 

He spoke, a low rumble that everybody inside the church strained to hear. 

“Still dead, love.  Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“I’m not,” Buffy whispered, her eyes misty with unshed tears.  “What…” 

“I’ll explain, I promise – but I just wanna look at you right now.” 

Buffy smiled and moved closer to him, her breath now warm against his lips as she gazed up into his eyes.  Her heart was beating fast and furious and she tried desperately to calm herself - but it was so very, very hard to remain calm under the gaze of those deep blue eyes fixed so hungrily on her. 

“Nice dress,” Spike murmured and Buffy chuckled as she remembered the last wedding they’d attended together, and the horrific green bridesmaid’s gown that had called forth that same compliment. 

“What, this old thing?” 

“But…white, Buffy?”  His smirk brought a blush to her cheeks.  If anybody knew how very little she deserved to be wearing white as befitted a virgin bride, it was Spike.  Her body tingled as she anticipated re-acquainting herself with his skilled fingers and cool caresses. 

“It’s kinda dirty-white,” she deadpanned. 

Spike laughed then, his eyes crinkling before they narrowed and Buffy recognised the light of lust that shone from them.  “Wanna get it dirtier?” 

Breathing in deeply, Buffy took a step forward and stood on tiptoes to whisper in his ear.  “I thought you’d never ask.  Got a getaway limo outside – you up for a bit of back-seat …what’s that word you use…snogging?” 

Her words were followed by a squeak as Spike growled and picked her up, turning on his heels and striding out the back of the church.  The congregation exploded into a round of applause and whoops, Mark and his parents temporarily forgotten as the guests got caught up in the obvious love story playing out before them. 

Dawn’s less than gentle tones followed them out the door as she yelled “Way to go, Buffy!” 

Giles turned to Dawn in horror, not at all mollified by her explanation.  “What – you’ve never seen An Officer and a Gentleman?  Please, you have to live in this century, Giles.” 

The sound of cheering and clapping faded as the door closed behind the fleeing pair.  For the first time since the cavern of hell fell around them in the Hellmouth, they were alone.  The shadowed porch protected Spike from the deadly sun, leaving Buffy to whistle at the limo and shock the driver who was expecting another ten minutes of reading his newspaper while leaning against the hood.  Swiftly stubbing out his cigarette, the driver raced around the car to open the door, ducking back to avoid being knocked over by the groom who was almost diving from the steps into the padded back seat.  At least, he assumed he was the groom… 

“Sorry, Miss…erm,…Mrs ..?  I didn’t quite expect you to be ready.” 

Buffy smiled as she closed the door.  “It’s no problem, really.  We did kinda buck the trend.” 

“I’ll take you right along to the reception then.  You just settle back in there and help yourself to champagne.” 

“No!”  Buffy shouted as the driver pulled away from the kerb.  “Not the reception.   Take us to…Spike, where are we going?” 

“Hadn’t really thought it through, pet.  Was just gonna come and see you wed the dork, then be on my way.  Impulse got the better of me.  I’ve been livin’ out of my car for the better part of a month.  Knew the matrimonials were imminent, just didn’t know exactly when.” 

Buffy melted as Spike looked away to where his reflection should have been in the darkened glass of the door.  Right then, she didn’t care where he’d been, didn’t give a damn that Giles had hidden his resurrection from her.  Here and now was what mattered, that was all.  And the future.  Their future. 

Buffy slid across the seat, nudged him so that he faced her, and snuggled beneath the arm he slung across her.  The driver coughed, wanting a direction to go as he slowly edged through the centre of town. 

“Take me home, Spike,” Buffy whispered, her soft smile all but burning him up. 

“Not sure where that’d be, love,” Spike answered, his eyes never leaving her. 

Buffy grinned. She’d hoped for such an answer, so that she could reply.  “Home is wherever you are.” 

The silence was punctuated only by the ‘mmms’ and ‘oooohs’ from the backseat of the limo, until the driver was forced to clear his throat again.  “Erm…I’m sorry, but…where to?”  The driver was running out of options, having hit the town limits.  The Last Drop Inn was alongside them when Buffy screamed at the driver to stop.  He did so, relieved.  This wasn’t his usual wedding routine, and it was making him nervous.  Once or twice, he’d looked in his rear view mirror and could have sworn the blonde bride was on her own in the back.  Thank god he only had the one wedding today and once he’d dropped off the clearly loved-up pair, he could head home. 

The driver’s eyes widened as it appeared that the peroxide-blond groom’s hair caught fire as the couple ran the length of the car park into the reception. He shook himself, thanked god that he’d been paid up front and headed off for a pint of ale, maybe with a whisky chaser. 

++++ 

It was much later that evening, as Buffy surveyed the ruined dress and groaned as her aching muscles and bite-marked skin complained when she moved, that she got round to asking Spike exactly how they’d gotten to where they were. 

She cried as she listened, hating that she’d caused him any pain, albeit inadvertently, when he and Angel came to find her in Rome.  And it wasn’t as if the Immortal had ever been anything but a distraction from her true love.  Angel’s demise brought fresh tears, but they were in farewell, and Spike got that now.  He cried along with her, feeling the same loss, and they held each other until the pain lessened. 

Soft words and mutual reassurances lulled them both into exhausted sleep for a while, until hunger had Buffy raiding the mini-fridge for the peanuts and M & Ms.  Spike chuckled as she devoured the snacks and licked her fingers, peeping at him from beneath her bed-mussed hair. 

He’d never believed he could be so happy.  Spike tried to ignore the lump in his throat as the emotions became too much, as it finally hit him that he was here, with Buffy, and she felt the same love and completion that he did.  He could even feel a verse or two bubbling up inside him. 

But that would wait for another day, and quite frankly, Buffy’s delectable nakedness wouldn’t… 

THE END 

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