The slap was expected. The kiss was not.

Both were fueled by passion, yet neither was slayer driven. This was purely a woman scorned at the helm. Brief as each were, her kiss marked him far deeper than the slap ever could. But before he could react, she’d pulled away and assumed ‘battle-ready’ position.

“So you’re really back, huh? Care to enlighten me, Spike, why is it that I had to hear this from some Saturday Night Fever extra, instead of, I don’t know, maybe, um, you?” Buffy paced, only stopping and squaring off on the last word.

“Well, you see, funny story that—”

Just as she had with Angel, Buffy held up her hand, stopping Spike mid-sentence.

“If you give me some load of crap about keeping me in the dark for my own benefit, I swear, what happens next isn’t going to be pretty. As in, no amulet, ring or any other gaudy accessory will bring you back, not pretty. Capisce?” Buffy eyed Spike, waiting for a response.

Spike nodded and, with his gaze firmly locked with hers, pushed forward.

“At first, stayed because I had to. Then stayed because I needed to.”

That seemed to immediately take the wind out of her battleship sails.

Her features softened and she stepped closer.

“You needed to stay away. Because of me?”

Spike watched her outer armor cracking, further exposing the hurt woman inside. Yet he pressed on; he wouldn’t keep the truth from her.

“Not goin’ to lie, luv. I thought it’d be best for me to stay away. No way topping my last exit and my grand sacrifice being all for naught.”—Spike watched the fire set ablaze again in her eyes and hurried to clarify —“But that was at first. Gut response and reasoning. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized something else entirely. I realized the reason I needed to stay away was because of me. All my time on God’s green Earth, someone’s been pulling my strings—Victorian society, my sires, the chip, the First, that bloody amulet. Now, for the first time, I’m my own man more or less, and it was ‘bout time I sussed out my place and the reason I’m still here. After over a century, finally, ‘I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.’”

It was surprising how easily the truth flowed. Not that he was normally a liar—that wasn’t really his style. Actually, what he couldn’t do as a human but made damn sure he had as a vamp was using words as weapons. They were, by far, sharper and plunged far deeper than his fangs ever could. But this had nothing to do about hurting. This was all about healing. For them both.

By the time Spike was done, Buffy was sitting on the edge of the bed. All her anger had melted away, leaving behind an expression he’d only witnessed on far too few cherished occasions—empathy.

“See, now, I never thought about that. When I found out you were here, I was all ‘I gotta find Spike.’ I never thought about the ‘Does Spike wanna be found’ part of the scenario. And in Buffy’s World, population one, instead of respecting your decision not letting me know you were back, I go all Fatal Attraction and hunt you down. Typical, I always miss the subtle clues, even when they’re not, you know, subtle. Look, I’m gonna go and you don’t have to worry about me bothering you again. I hope you have a good life, Spike. Well, unlife…” Buffy stood and headed towards the door.

Spike watched her walk away, unsure how the hell everything went tits over arse. Unable to physically bring her back, he did the next best thing. Hoping to hell it worked.

“Wait!”

She turned, fresh tears tracking down her cheeks. He felt like such a bastard.

“Buffy, please come back. Sit.” Since his hands were still useless, he eyed the spot on the bed she’d just vacated. Just as he hoped, she sat back down.

“Like I said, I wasn’t planning on shoe-horning myself back into your life. But know this, when I popped out of that amulet, in Angel’s office no less, the first thought I had…well, besides the fact that coming back was a bloody bitch…was you. Only you. It’s true, all that has happened from then till now really put things into perspective. And yeah, there are things in my unlife needin’ major figurin’, but my feelings for you were never one of them.”

Buffy smiled softly and gently cupped his cheek. Their gazes locked and held for several moments, until Buffy dropped her hand and was the first to look away.

“Well, I guess you’ve been pretty busy, huh?” Buffy toyed with the edge of his blanket.

“Understatement of the year, luv.”

Spike launched into an hour long tale, starting with materializing from the amulet and ending with Dana playing some twisted form of Operation, sans the buzzing and flashing red nose. Buffy listened, engrossed, barely interrupting except for a few “No ways,” raising that once with a “You gotta be kidding me!” Yet nothing had prepared him for the only question she actually asked on the matter.

“Where does Harmony fit in all of this?” Buffy struck her go-to ‘no nonsense’ pose. Which, truth-be-told, was far more intimidating this up-close-and-personal.

“So of me being Casper the unfriendly ghost, my almost one-way trip to hell courtesy of the bloody Reaper, me finally being all solid again and then stopping those leeches from treating Angel like some vamp-sized Capri Sun, of all of this, the only question you have is about Harm?”—going off of her unchanged expression, Spike shifted uneasily—“Well, I guess I sorta left out the part when that big box of flashy made me solid again, I tried, well, not exactly tried, more as in, well, it was only the once and I didn’t finish…”

Buffy held up her hand, stopping him from going further. “Okay, not another word. You’re so not finishing this time either, buddy.”

“Jealous?” With a raised scarred brow, Spike’s voice danced between teasing and seductive.

“Hardly.” Buffy’s scoff sounded more indignant than the intended indifference.

Spike leaned forward to capture her gaze. Holding it, he vowed, “Luv, there’ll never be anyone else for me besides you.”

“Yeah, well, since we weren’t really together, I’ll forgive you. This time only. Next time, it’s Dustpan City for you, pal.”—he watched her relax, the playfulness he loved returning—“So I’m guessing, with all things considered, even a hundred and thirty year old vamp can have an identity crisis, huh?”

“Oi! ‘m only a hundred and twenty-four, you vicious bint. And don’t you try to deny it. Century year old or not, we both know ‘m a devilishly handsome bloke.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.”--Buffy’s eyes widened and she rose from the bed--“Okay, so, on that note, I really should be going.”

“Buffy?” Spike started to panic. He didn’t want her leaving. If he had his say in the matter, her leaving would be never.

“No, I’m not leaving. Well, yeah, I’m leaving this room, but not LA. Not right now anyway. It’s just…I sorta need a time out to refuel. I’ve been running on pure adrenaline for the last seventy-two hours and I’m ‘bout ready to crash.” Her words ended with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Rest, luv. Take all the time you need, ‘m not goin’ anywhere.”

With a soft smile, Buffy headed towards the door. Her hand stayed on the handle before she turned and returned to the bed.

“I really missed you.” With a soft chaste kiss to his lips, she left.

Never an easy feat, Spike was rendered speechless. Granted, the beginning of their conversation was rocky, but by the end it was simply amazing. Just having her smiling at him, laughing with him, having Buffy just being Buffy was far more than he’d ever deserved. And hell, the greedy bastard he was wanted more. Wanted it all. It wasn’t till a few moments had passed he realized he’d gained back dexterity and full feeling in his hands, as his fingers were absently brushing against his lips,trying to recapture her kiss.


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Saturday Night Fever is a 1977 classic starring John Travolta and songs from the Bee Gees. Go here to learn more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saturday_Night_Fever

Capisce: means “got it” or “I understand” in Italian. Since Buffy was in Italy, this worked, plus I’m a tried and true Italian princess, so…

“I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul” are the last two lines of my favorite poem, “Invictus,” written by William Ernest Henley. In Latin, “invictus” means “unconquered.” It is so powerful and gut-wrenching, not only the poem, but the way it came about. If you’ve never read it, find it here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invictus

Fatal Attraction is a 1987 psychological thriller starring Glenn Close and Michael Douglas. It was pretty jaw-dropping, especially for a fourteen year old who snuck behind her parents’ back to watch it on HBO! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fatal_Attraction

Operation is a childhood game which I loved. (I think I liked the buzzing sound more than anything) Go here if you’ve never heard of the game: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_(game)

Casper the unfriendly ghost: is a playoff of Casper the friendly ghost. If you don’t know who he is, look here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casper_the_Friendly_Ghost

Big thanks to my beta, SlayerDaniWho. Please take a mere moment to let me know your thoughts.