(Untitled)
Who: Spike and Buffy.
Where: Hotel room 204.
When: Saturday night.
Why: Because they need to, ahem, talk.
Status: Open.
Rating: PG for now. It’s Spike and Buffy in a hotel room. You do the math.
( It’s been a long time coming. )
Where: Hotel room 204.
When: Saturday night.
Why: Because they need to, ahem, talk.
Status: Open.
Rating: PG for now. It’s Spike and Buffy in a hotel room. You do the math.
( It’s been a long time coming. )
When would it be their time to rest? Could tonight be the night they start? All the Slayer wanted to do was to find her solace in Spike’s arms and return the favor. It had been a long time since she found herself able to sleep. The nightmare of the final fight in Sunnydale played in her head on a continuous loop every day and every night.
“I’ve missed you so much.” Her body had physically ached when she left Sunnydale, and it had taken her all of two days to realize it wasn’t from the battle itself, but from the separation and loss of the vampire in front of her.
Closing her eyes, Buffy leaned into the touch, her nose pressing to his when foreheads touched. There was so much intimacy in such a simple gesture as this. Oh, how she never wanted to move. With fingers trembling against his cool cheek, she listened to the sound of Spike’s soul opening up to her in his words. “No matter how hard any of us scrub we’ll never be clean.” Buffy pressed the small of her back into his hand, blindly leading him further into the tiny hotel room and towards the bed.
“Shh, shh.” Fingers traced the outline of his jaw, “You’ve done more than try, Spike. You’ve saved the world.” The reminder about what he had done for the world, for her, was firm and sharp as she pressed him down to settle on the edge of the bed. “You don’t need to carry the weight of the world any longer.” Her eyes opened and she focused on his face through tears that were starting to fall, “I’m here now. You can rest and I’ll make you strong again. The way you made me strong when I gave up.” If the Powers did try to take him from her again, she’d travel to Hell and back to save him. Just as she knew he’d do for her.
“You are brave, Spike. You fought for your soul and you won. You took the world into your hands and you saved it. You saved me more than once. You’re tired and I can understand that.” Laying her hands on top of his chest, Buffy attempted to ease the vampire to lie back onto the bed, “You’re home, Spike. You’re safe and you can rest now.”
Leaning into his body once more, Buffy’s lips rested against Spike’s ear where she breathed her confession. “I love you.” And then they pressed to the right side of his cheek, kissing the blood stained skin. With such a simple act, her body exploded with the emotions she was bottling up. Each emotion rocked her body in assault, leaving her wanting to cling to him and not let go. “Close your eyes and when you wake, I’ll be here.” The Slayer was going to hold him when he needed her the most as he had done for her before Sunnydale was gone.
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And here it was, rushing not just into his mouth but into every inch of his flesh that she touched or breathed on. It wasn't a sign of someone dying... it was the sign of someone trying to bring life back to someone long dead.
He hardly realized that he was sitting on the bed, something that the old Spike would have comprehended the moment they started heading in that direction. Grabbing hold of Buffy's wrists, he tried to resist at first. "Home's where the heart is, but there's no heart. Nothing left. Why do you try so hard, Buffy? Why do you keep...?" He trailed off, not wanting to finish the statement that continued in his mind: 'Why do you keep trying if you don't love me?'
And like an echo of his own thoughts, he heard her voice speak such a simple, low phrase. It was the last thing he had heard her say, back when Sunnydale was collapsing all around them. And he had known then, had even told her, that she was only saying it out of decency. She was decent. That only made the proclamation all the more wrong.
This time, though... either because of the kiss or some sort of insight he gained since their departure... it wasn't just a matter of courtesy. It was a matter of truth. How far that extended, he didn't know. But he looked up at her, his blue eyes wavering with tears that refused to fall due to either disbelief or pride. He looked up and he saw her. And he saw what she saw in him.
Peas in a pod, that's what he had said once.
Still grasping her wrists, he draped her arms over his shoulders as he laid back, his eyes transfixed on hers as though in awe. "That's all I want," he told her as he slowly brought her down. "That's all I need. How do you always know what I need?" And then his disbelief and his pride both slipped away, and Spike closed his eyes and cried.
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The world around them disappeared. All that existed in the now was Spike and herself. He was such a crucial part of the woman she was now, that she owed him everything and planned on repaying him ten fold.
Coming to her own conclusion as to what Spike was trying to get at when he asked about her trying so hard, she answered as she would have had he asked why she tried so hard to fight the good fight. “If none of us tried, there would be no definition to the world. Evil would have it’s free roam of everything and people would be slaves to their own destruction.” Having seen what it could possibly be like if evil took over the world, while in LA after sending Angel to hell, Buffy refused to let the world lose.
The Slayer was going to drag the blanket up Spike’s body in hopes to warm him just a bit, when he looked up at her. His blue eyes somehow seemed to be void of all color. The soul behind the orbs was shattered and she knew it would take her a while to pick up the pieces and set them back into place. But she would. Even if it took her until she died to do so.
Letting Spike place her arms over his shoulders, she let her body collapse besides his on the bed, one denim clad leg coming up to drape over his thighs, curling against him tight and tugging his frame towards her. “Because I know you.” Was all she said before letting one arm slip from off his shoulders to place behind his head and lead it to her chest, arms now both wrapping around his shoulders in protection. “We’re both home, now.” Her voice muffled against the bleached and unkempt curls on Spike’s head as she rocked his body with her's.
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"People are already slaves," he mentioned hollowly. "If they're lucky, that is. If not, God or something like Him better help 'em. We all know that other people've tried and fell short of the mark." He closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about the people he had failed, not now. He'd force them out for the night, and he'll pay penance for it later. He always did, didn't he? "Evil's always gonna be here. Let's ignore it for once, yeah? What's the worse that could come out of being a little selfish? End of the world? Gonna happen regardless."
Spike swallowed with some difficulty when he felt her arms surround him. He felt lost, but this was a good sort of lost. This wasn't the sort of lost he felt when he stumbled into this town and discovered everything from time travelers to old acquaintances. This was the kind of lost where you don't know where you're going, but you know that there's going to be somebody there with you, holding your hand until the monsters go away.
He shook his head against her, returning the embrace with a desperate one of his own. "No, we're not," he nearly whimpered, a hand tangling itself into her soft blonde hair. He didn't sound like himself, and he would have ordinarily hated for anyone to see him this way... but she'd seen him at his worse. This wasn't quite it. And yet, she had stuck with him regardless.
"We're not home. But we're on the journey. That's good enough."
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But she would remind him later. For now, she’d let him have his say and let him take his peace in her arms. “If the world does end, I’ll hold your hand through it all.” Stealing the free hand that wasn’t tangled in her hair, Buffy pressed smaller hands to his larger one, and let fingers curl down through his, squeezing tightly.
“Is this a dream?
If it is
Please don't wake me from this high
I've become comfortably numb
Until you opened up my eyes
To what it's like
When everything's right
I can't believe
You found me
When no one else was lookin'
How did you know just where I would be?
Yeah, you broke through
All of my confusion
The ups and the downs
And you still didn't leave
I guess that you saw what nobody could see
You found me
You found me
So, here we are
That's pretty far
When you think of where we've been
No going back
I'm fading out
All that has faded me within
You're by my side
Now everything's fine
I can't believe
You found me
When no one else was lookin'
How did you know just where I would be?
Yeah, you broke through
All of my confusion
The ups and the downs
And you still didn't leave
I guess that you saw what nobody could see
You found me
You found me
And I was hiding
'Til you came along
And showed me where I belong
You found me
When no one else was lookin'
How did you know?
How did you know?
You found me
When no one else was lookin'
How did you know just where I would be?
Yeah, you broke through
All of my confusion
The ups and the downs
And you still didn't leave
I guess that you saw what nobody could see
You found me.”
When she sang, she stayed curled to Spike, eyes closed and rocking gently. Mentally she was going to hurt Xander for finding the charm. “I’m going to cutoff Xander’s hands so he never finds a charm again.” Buffy muttered under her breath, knowing, hoping it would bring a small smile to Spike’s face.
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Magic was the song that spilled from her lips shortly afterwards, the sound of her voice covering him and doing more to heal him than any sort of magic. At the mention of Xander's name, Spike was both relieved and disappointed; relieved to know that his instinct had been right, and disappointed that the song was the effect of a spell.
"Getting your hands cut off isn't fun," he said absently, speaking from experience. "I'll help."
His grasp on her hair became softer, more tender. It had been a long day, and he had resisted the urge to speak in melodious tones and do some embarrassing table dancing, which didn't lend itself to his road to recovery. Should the spell affect both him and Buffy, exactly what sort of dancing would they do? He nearly laughed when he realized that he wouldn't mind combusting all that much if-
And that was what made it a curse, of course. The combustion part. Spike almost frowned. Good things always came at a price, didn't they? He couldn't just ever give in to something. Of course, that never really stopped him.
"This world don't give you nothing it can't take away.
Everybody holding on to something,
Nobody wants to fade away.
No forgiveness on the streets of this town.
I left my patience at a traffic light.
There's no denying that I almost lost it;
Threw in the towel, too tired to fight.
Tonight I need you
More than yesterday.
Tonight I need you.
Take me, touch me, hold me like you mean it.
Make me come alive.
Hurt me, heal me, come and make me feel it.
Rescue me tonight.
Love me back to life.
These days I'd trade sight for feeling.
There are days my feeling's gone.
Can't figure out whose life I'm living.
I don't know right from wrong.
When I lost my faith,
You found it and gave it back to me.
There's a new light on your halo;
It took blind eyes to see.
That I need you
More than yesterday.
Yeah, I need you.
Take me, touch me, hold me like you mean it.
Make me come alive.
Hurt me, heal me, come and make me feel it.
Rescue me tonight.
Love me back to life.
Take me, touch me, hold me like you mean it.
Make me come alive.
Hurt me, heal me, come and make me feel it.
Rescue me.
Love me back to life."
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Did he, or would he know now, how much she did truly love him? Words seemed to never be enough and she felt she never found the right ones to tell him how much he was part of her soul. Fused to her like the stars were to the sky. For her, she had to show what she felt. It was always easiest that way. Whether it came from the Slayer blood riding her body to do it’s will, or just the girl, she’d never be able to tell.
However, there were things she wanted to tell him.
And things she couldn’t tell him.
Not now at least.
Laying here in his arms and him in her own was peace to the Slayer. There were wars a plenty, but there were so few moments like this. When they came, she cherished them. Only now, she couldn’t. There was singing involved and frankly, she was tired of it. Tired of it all and Buffy wanted to simply rest. As long as I don’t dance I should be okay. She thought hopefully. Dancing until you caught on fire really ruined your shoes. It just happened to be at the present time she wasn’t even wearing any, so that would easily leave a mark for how ever long Slayer healing didn’t kick in.
Oh, but the dancing… it was working its way into her toes. Her skin tingled with the urgency to move, muscles twitching to do so. All the while her heart screamed at her, waging a war with her body to stay within Spike’s comforting grasp.
There was no such luck for the Slayer. She slipped through his fingers like butter, feet hitting the wood flooring without a sound. Fighting so hard to control the need to let her emotions ride out in waves of dancing, she managed just a little, deciding it was better to pace then frolic like some woodland fairy.
“You say it like you know
What it’s like to have your hands cut off
And I don’t want you to show
Because I just may barf
This isn’t helping
I know it can’t be working
I really wished I’d seen
But my Slayer sense since coming here
Isn’t very keen
Maybe Giles was wrong
Maybe it wasn’t Cleveland all along
There might be a Hellmouth in Aternaville
Wouldn’t that just be a thrill?”
Running her hands through her hair, the Slayer kept her eyes fixated on Spike. If he started to dance, well, there’d be no stopping her from following in his lead.
Heaven damn her for letting hungry eyes roam over his body, the way he laid sprawled out on the large bed was bringing up some deeply buried memories. All of which were not for the virginal minded. Oh how they spilled through her like a wild fire in the bushes. That fire making sure it spread right to her…
“This really isn’t funny
These images aren’t helping
All I’m doing
Is picturing you in your undies”
Not only was she singing, but she was making a fool of herself in doing so. Facepalming herself, Buffy covered her face in her hands. Maybe if she couldn’t see Spike, the humiliation wouldn’t be so bad?
“Please stop me
Anytime is fine
If you let me go on
I might just lose my mind
It’s just never a good sign
When I start to sing
What good could come of it?
It’s such a stupid thing
Don’t you know Spike
Can’t you to see
That I need to remember
What it’s like
To feel you inside of me.”
If she wasn’t going to burn to death by dancing, she imagined torching herself. It would be a lot less painful then what she was doing right now.
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At first, he thought the laugh stemmed from watching her do a little song and dance that went against her better judgment. But when he looked up and realized that he had gotten up and moved towards her, he knew that something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
"So you say: 'We've got a little Hellmouth in Aternaville.'
And I ask: 'Who's the Big Bad that I've gotta kill?'
Because there's no way
That I'm gonna let this moment slide.
Someone'll pay
If I don't get to have my ride."
Moving towards her, he was thankful that his major wounds were healed at he put an arm about her waist and continued singing his forceful song.
"Yeah, I know how embarrassing it is to sing a song.
And moving to the music in your head is oh-so wrong.
But I've seen right into hell and don't have no place else turn.
So if I'm gonna go out singing, I'd rather go out with a burn."
The proximity of the dancing was what startled him out of it, as he realized that the only thing that was keeping him from fulfilling Buffy's desire was the presence of clothing. Had this madness caught on as soon as he walked through the door, their impromptu tango would have certainly led to a rather fatal inferno. With the extremely small dose of rationale Buffy bestowed upon him, he slid his arm out from around her and took a step back.
"Oh God, look what we've become.
Puppets without strings; that demon almost won.
There's a reason we're here, but it's not for this.
Yet I need you here; that's my only wish.
And I want you near, so give me a kiss.
I don't want to be a part of this insipid show.
But all things considered, there are worse ways to go."
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“I’m not certain
It’s just my speculation
Not my declaration
That Aternaville has
A hellmouth on it
But if it does
What’s the worse
That could happen?
Don’t we always fight
Saving the day
And the night
It gets lonely after a while
Trying to atone
But your soul is filled with vile
When what you need
Is just a final release
Body pleads
For you to take me, please.”
When Spike wrapped his arm around her waist, Buffy’s head lolled back and her hips arched against his own. She could feel him all over her, soul frantically trying to find its way out of her body to fuse together with his. This was torture. The clothing they wore the only restraint keeping them from locking themselves in each other. The sound of both Spike’s words and the pounding of her blood was all she heard. Primal urges were creeping up to the Slayer’s normally right frame of mind, ready to abandon all logic. There just wasn’t any logic when it came to Spike. Not anymore. Buffy knew what she wanted and he was it. The souled vampire was everything she wanted.
And just like that, as her mind set the command forth, body not yet responding to locking her legs around his waist, Spike was gone from her. Fingers reaching out to grab hold of him once more, but all they caught were air.
Now she had words. Frustration taking control.
“Don’t be afraid
I’m not leading you astray
I don’t care about the spell
I just need to know how you feel
I need to hear you say
That this will all be okay
I’m throwing caution to the wind
And finding myself filled with sin
I’ve felt this heat before
Couldn’t remember what it was like anymore
I’m done with dreaming
It’s your name I want to be singing
To feel your flesh against my own
I need to feel like we’ve made it home
Refuse to be alone anymore.”
Biting on her lower lip, the Slayer worked it between teeth as her fingers grabbed the hem of her tank top and peeled it upwards, over her head before finally discarding it all together and onto the floor in front of Spike’s feet.
“Don’t deny me your truth
I need to feel the rush of you
Flooding me with warmth
Make me feel your spark.”
Obeying his earlier request, Buffy was the one to close the distance this time, pressing her chest against Spike’s, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him from slipping away. When her lips met his, there were flashes of white burning light behind the Slayer’s closed eyelids and her head went dizzy, tongue probing his lips for entry. Subconsciously her body steered them towards the bed, where, with a turn of their positioned bodies, the back of Buffy’s knees hit the edge of the bed, causing the small blonde to fall back onto the mattress, hoping she didn’t lock lips with her lover’s.
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The kiss felt like it was shattering him, but he welcomed it. It was the doubt that it tore apart, the pain, the suffering... the guilt. Everything he had suffered, everything he had seen, suddenly felt justified as he opened his mouth to her, letting her take what she wanted in return for giving him back what he had been missing. His hands fumbling at her waist to rid her of the remainder of her clothes, he felt the only thing that was really left inside of him: the spark. He didn't know whether that was what evoked a small moan from him or if it was the fact that he suddenly found himself on top of Buffy, but he was certain of one thing. The spark was hers; it had always been hers. And she wanted it. And she was going to get what she wanted.
Reluctantly, Spike broke the kiss just long enough to remove his shirt, never taking his eyes off of her. Lowering his head once again, he kissed her cheek, then her neck, then her collarbone. He didn't need words now, wasn't even sure if he could actually formulate anything coherent as instinct took over, but he moved towards her ear and whispered lowly.
"I don't know how it got to be this way.
I don't know if this is how things'll stay.
And I'm not sure on what I should say.
All I know is it's gonna be okay."
Kissing her cheek, he repeated, "It's gonna be okay." He repeated the phrase in a low murmur as he continued with his kissing, one arm cradled around her head as his free hand went to her jeans. The spark inside of him was growing in intensity, getting hot enough to make him uncomfortable, but that didn't matter. It was hers, and she could do with it what she wished. It was all gonna be okay.
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And the Slayer knew his body like a painter knew a canvas. She’d bring the color back to him as he was doing for her, now.
The kiss blinded her and she’d do it again and again, even if it meant she’d lose all sight. And in a way, she did. The world outside the room’s door faded into gray for her. Everything that held meaning to Buffy was right in the man she kissed. Like a dying woman clinging to the last swells of life, she trailed her tongue over his, tasting every inch of his mouth. There were hints of blood, of nicotine and burning alcohol filling her senses from Spike’s mouth. Whether or not any of the tastes were from recent doings, Buffy knew that each of them was unique to her lover. Each of the scents burned into her memory as were the hands that fumbled with her jeans.
When Spike broke the connection and pulled his lips from her own, she let out a whimper in protest, her body feeling so much colder when he was gone. Somewhat funny how she felt warm with his cold body pressed to her own. But then again, it wasn’t his flesh that warmed her as it was his presence and soul. Biting the inside of her cheek, she watched with hungry eyes as Spike removed the shirt. His perfectly sculpted chest bare for her hands to touch and they did as soon as he returned to her. The pads of her fingers traced over the planes of Spike’s shoulders, down and up again over his back.
With lips as cool as ice trailing along skin as hot as the dessert sand, Buffy arched her back, stretching like a languid cat; small purr rumbling from the back of her throat. Spike’s mouth to her skin felt like a surge of electricity pulsating into ever fibre of her being. She never wanted it to end. It was her neck that Spike would feel her body shudder hard against his frame. It was irony that the most sensitive part to a, this Slayer, was her neck. Lifting her hips up and giving them a wriggle, she helped Spike pry the form fitting jeans from her powerful legs, the jeans on their way down ensnaring the black cotton panties that matched the bra still caging her chest. “We’ll make it okay and we’ll make it work.” She promised before her lips once again crushed Spike’s mouth, losing all train of thought except for the instinct to be with him.
With her mouth busy against his, a small hand snaked its way between their pressed bodies, over the well defined abs and down to the waistband of Spike’s jeans. With no skill but simple Slayer strength, she managed to pop the button from the thin thread it held onto and peeled the zipper down. “I love you.” She said, breaking the kiss and taking her turn to lick at the not so pulse point of Spike’s neck, tip of her tongue working circular motions there, just as her hand found the center of his desire and wrapped around the base, giving the faintest of strokes in tease.
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But feeling Buffy's hands against him, feeling her writhing beneath him, that in itself was almost like an electromagnetic pulse sent right into his chest, causing the dead muscle within to feel as though it were finally given life. Feeling the sudden snap of his fly as the Slayer succeeded in freeing him much more quickly than he did her, he closed his eyes and groaned as another muscle became alive in Buffy's small but strong hand.
His hand traced along her bare legs and found their way upwards, momentarily pausing to marvel at the heat coming from between them. Feeling the slight movement of her hand and the sensation of her tasting him, he let out a strained moan and arched his hips towards her.
"That's not very nice," he murmured breathily, his fingers entering her and remembering its past journeys that elicited the proper reactions. His free hand slipped behind her, undoing the clasp of the last article of clothing she was wearing. After another delicate kiss to her collarbone, he added, "Let's be nice to each other, yeah? No games. Just the things we need."
He dropped his head to her newly-revealed breasts, letting his lips travel around the curves of each of them before tasting of one of her nipples, giving it a light suck. After he managed to kick off his shoes, he positioned himself so that his was at the very edges of her entrance. Looking her in the eye, he quietly asked, "Can I do that, Buffy? Can I take what I need?"
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At once she felt the pang in her heart at being so foolish. Teasing him was the last thing she wanted to do. It had been so long since they were able to touch and she felt like time wasn’t on their side. Darkness was always around the bend. And to tease them both was the last thing she intended to do. So, meeting open skies of blue eyes with jaded green, she spoke, “I’m sorry.” It was in a whisper that she apologized, too terrified that if she spoke higher, her voice would shatter this memory.
Letting her thighs part in welcoming to the skilled fingers, Buffy’s head fell back against the bed as both hands dropped from Spike’s body altogether. “Spike…” His name rolled off her tongue like a prayer, and god, did she pray that this feeling would never wash off her skin and would penetrate her soul for eternity.
“No games, just us. Everything we need and everything we’ve needed.” Writhing on the bed, the Slayer grasped at the sheets, pulling them up in a tangled mess while fighting the building tension in her gut.
Each single touch of Spike’s body to her own, by way of tongue or hand, she knew he was replacing the invisible chains that would tie her to him once more. “Yes.” Buffy wanted to scream it, but instead meekly replied. Lifting her hips in arch to his erection and wrapping both legs around Spike’s waist, Buffy pulled him down against her with arms enveloping him tightly.
The moment that Spike broke through the barrier of longing, Buffy gasped in pleasure. Her heart raced heavily in her chest, running her blood hot. This was life. This was living. This was love and it was all theirs. Not for a second did she look away from his face, needing to watch the peace flood Spike’s eyes. Finding their rhythm was easy. Her hips pushed down when he had thrust up and when he pulled back, she did the same, headboard of the bed slamming into the wall from lack of conscious strength from vampire and Slayer, who finally lost all sense of control when she felt the first wave of pleasure finally wash over her. Muscles around Spike squeezed with each rising crest of the intense orgasm and his name escaped parted lips in loud cries of passion.
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He nearly gasped when Buffy's powerful legs wrapped around him and pulled him towards her, but he kept it inside, not wanting to let anything out. Inside, everything had to stay inside until he heard her voice signaling her arrival. Because taking what he needed didn't actually consist of him taking anything at all; it was about giving. Giving her what she wanted, what she was missing, what she deserved. That was why he went to the ends of the world to get his soul back, after all. Buffy deserved the spark far more than he did.
Never as selfless as he liked to believe, he was only able to keep himself in check for the first few thrusts, slow and controlled as he attempted to savor each and ever shudder of friction their joined bodies created. But just like the lives they led, their love-making could never keep from becoming chaotic, forceful, and even a bit violent. If not for their stamina and natural healing capabilities, it was likely that neither of them would have been able to walk straight for a very, very long time.
Just before she began calling his name, Spike briefly wondered if they were still under the thrall of the curse, and if this was the madcap dance during which they were destined to die. As Buffy pressed against him and uttered his name, he realized that even that morbid thought wouldn't stop him. As he had said before, there were worse ways to go. And dying while inside the only woman who ever actually loved his human soul would be a pretty decent ending.
Her needs were met, and he finally allowed himself to cry out in his own release, his hand once again entangling itself in her perpetually silken hair as he thrust deeply within her. He felt her heart pounding against his chest and he remained perfectly still, imagining just for a few moments that it was his own heartbeat. They'd have to share the same heart. If she ever took that away from him, he'd be just as lost as he was before.
Spike stared into Buffy's face, memorizing every detail of her expression in this one perfect moment. It was then when he came to a realization. Leaning in, he gave her lips a single chaste kiss before telling her in hushed tones, "I'm not lost anymore, Buffy. I'm home."
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Home.
He was home and so was she.
Relaxing with a deep breath of ease, Buffy corrected him, “We’re both home, now. We made it. We can breathe.” Her face was tinted with the blush of afterglow from their dance. And if that was the dance that followed the curse this time around, singing instead of talking wasn’t all that bad. Still wrapped up in Spike, Buffy didn’t pay any attention to the mess around them, let alone the bed legs having been broken in the throws of their love making, mattress and box spring now sitting on the floor.
Instead of inching up and from around him, Buffy curled up to Spike’s chest, letting the side of her head rest against where his heart would beat. If she listened close enough, she swore she could hear it beating in the cavity. He no longer was a demon to her. Not ever again would he be. He was a man for her and she felt, because of him, she was now the woman she had meant to be all along. “I’m so tired, Spike.” Heaven help her, because she was. It was as if when all the numbness faded, she felt all the pain and aches that she hadn’t felt for months. In the end, though, Buffy would rather feel everything and anything than to be lifeless. In the end she knew that being with Spike, would heal all the pain she’d ever bear. Closing her eyes and snuggling into Spike as if she had been made from the same mold as he, Buffy took a deep breath before whispering, “I love you.” Sleep was consuming her now and she didn’t’ fear the nightmares that would come the moment her mind drifted into the gray abyss.
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Hugging her to his chest, Spike thought about the irony in the situation. He had come to her, worn out and mad... only to leave her feeling exhausted. Then again, she had every reason to be. All of his conceit about his abilities aside, Spike had no idea what had happened to her after Sunnydale or how she had ended up here. And while he knew that one of her friends was in town, that meant that the others were scattered about elsewhere. Now wasn't the time for the questions that both of them surely had, but that didn't matter. There was tomorrow. There always would be tomorrow.
"I know," he told her, smoothing out her hair. "But we can rest now. No vampires. No Slayers. Just a man and a woman." Just a man. In the end, that was how Buffy viewed him. Not a killer, not a vampire, not even a soldier in her little Slayer army. He was simply a man. A man that she loved. That affected him more than words could ever say.
He watched her close her eyes, feeling that spark burning inside of him once again when she uttered those three words. Brushing her hair away from her face, he whispered, "I love you, too, Buffy. Always."
Though he nestled in against her, he doubted that he would be able to sleep at all. Sleep meant waking up, and he never wanted to wake up.
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