Spike broke away with a gasp, and Buffy took the opportunity to place teasing nips and open mouth kisses to the tender curve of his throat. His head lolled back, surrendering to her. With her warm, eager hands roaming over the planes of his chest and the full expanse of his back, coupled with the heady scent of her arousal and racing pulse buzzing in his ears, intensified the hunger of both man and demon.

The man wanted to savor her. The demon wanted to possess her. Both wanted every part of her and neither was accepting anything less.

“Luv?”

His voice sounded strained and distant even to his own ears. Spike was torn between speaking and once and for all lifting this heavy burden of doubt weighing on him, or yet again, remaining silent and relishing the moment.

It was never ending—his mind, body and soul struggling against one another in matters of the heart.

Yet this needed to be done. No more hiding behind the fear of rejection and obscurity. Decision made, Spike spoke louder in order to get her attention.

“Buffy.”

This time it worked. She stopped, leaving him feeling instantly bereft. He felt her shifting, untangling herself from him and moving back to the couch. It pained him to see her once bright, shining eyes clouding over with uncertainty.

“Spike?”

The way she said his name, the way she looked at him, so open and exposed, gave him the briefest glimpse at a side of her she’d rarely shown to anyone—vulnerability.

A vulnerability sustained by a steady soul-crushing diet of a deeply ingrained fear of someone leaving and breaking her heart, yet again.

Long before the soul, he vowed he’d do anything and everything in his power to ease her heartaches of the past. Without question, doubt or hesitation, he’d go to hell and back to give her this one small moment of peace in an otherwise short, brutal existence. He’d endure every perdition or nightmare created by man, god or beasts, all but save one—the hell of uncertainty and self-paltriness once reigning over his head and heart. Not again. Never again.

“Buffy, we can’t do this.”

Spike noticed her tensing, sitting taller and straighter. Knowing her like he did, she was physically bracing herself for the crushing final verbal blow she thought would follow. Her response was either fight or flight. Only time would tell for sure which one she’d choose.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, that I could show up out of the blue and shoe-horn myself back into your life. And what? Act like everything that happened before hadn’t, and a greasy bag of blood and wings will make everything better? Yeah, just crown me now, Miss Delusional USA 2004. I’m sorry, I’m…I’m just gonna go.”

So, flight it was

Buffy tried to stand, but Spike’s hands on her upper arms stayed her. “Now hold up. Can you just give me a minute to explain ‘fore you blow on out of here?”

Buffy nodded her consent, but her muscles remained tense under her skin, coiled and at the ready to flee at any moment. He knew his explanation had to be quick and straight to the point, one false move would trigger her flight and then trying to stop her from leaving would be like fettering a whirlwind.

Bloody impossible

“Buffy, when I say we can’t do this, it’s not about the past. It’s not about all the misdeeds we’ve done to one another. Those are times best left alone. And if ‘ve learned anything in a century plus of unliving, especially in these last two years, the past is best left where it’s supposed to be. Behind you. The only thing we can do now is learn from it, move on and not repeat the same mistakes.”

“So…so you’re saying it’s a mistake for us to be together?”

This was not a time to mince words. No more misunderstandings or miscommunications. He needed for her to fully understand. Then from there, whatever choice she made was with full knowledge of where he stood.

“No, not a mistake. If this is for real, Buffy, it would never be a mistake.” Needing more contact to go on, Spike slid closer until their knees touched. “You can’t imagine how many times I’d fantasized you tellin’ me that we should be together. For years. Nearly every bloody day. There were even some days, after I had a few, five or six pints, my imagination ran wild. You. Me. A cozy little crypt for two. With unlimited top-shelf Jack and smokes, and Manchester United on the telly beating the snot out of Liverpool for the League Cup… now that was my idea of nirvana.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and murmured, “Typical guy.”

Spike gave a fleeting smirk, then pressed on, “In those few short months we were together, no matter how small of a taste you allowed me to have, I believed that was the closest to heaven I’d ever get. Or deserved. But that was then. And this is now.” Spike loosened his grip on her arms, the pads of his thumbs tenderly tracing small circles on her skin.

“Buffy, I will always be here for you, please know this. But I can’t give you what you’re looking for. Not if you’re not willing to give me what I want—all of you. Not just your body. Not just small bits here and there or shadows of who you allow me to have or see. I want your mind. Your heart. Your trust. I want to experience with you the highest of the high and the lowest of the low. See the best and worst of you. I want it all. But I won’t be your dirty littl’ secret and ‘m not accepting a meager crumb. Not again. Not anymore. I deserve more.”

Spike watched her, trying to gauge her thoughts and not able to get a read. The next few moments of pregnant silence were maddening. It wasn’t until he saw her eyes welling with tears and he felt her body relaxing, he released the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You deserve so much more, Spike. I know you said the past is the past. But I need to say this.” Spike nodded and she pressed on. “When you were gone, I had time to think. Lots and lots of time to think, if I had the chance, what I’d’ve done differently. There were so many things. But I can’t change what happened and I can’t keep beating myself up over it all. And right now, I don’t have everything figured out yet, because, hello? Big surprise. You’re back.” Buffy gave a slight smile. “Well, actually, it shouldn’t be a big surprise you’re back. You’ve always been there, haven’t you? Like a tarnished, bad penny, you keep turning up. Even when I hated you. Even when I hurt you and others hurt you because of me, even when everyone else would’ve just given up—you never left. And believe me. I gave you tons of reasons to leave and reasons to betray me. But you kept your promises to protect the ones I love and keep them safe. Even when I was gone.”

Spike watched her lashes fluttering and smelt the tears she was fighting. “For a really long time, I hated you for that. Hated that you were always there. I thought there was something wrong with you because why could a vampire, a soulless thing, be there when others with a soul wasn’t. And then that got me thinking there was something wrong with me because I couldn’t get rid of you. I couldn’t understand, I didn’t want to understand, why they were gone and you stayed. And the worst part? When all the nose punches and insults couldn’t keep you away, I used another way, a more brutal way, to try and get you to leave. I twisted your love, said it was wrong and wasn’t real because you didn’t have a soul. I told you I could never love or trust you without one. But the truth is, you love far deeper than anyone I’ve ever known. And I used that love against you because it was the only weapon I had left.”

Spike watched Buffy close her eyes, and take a few steadying breaths before she opened them again to meet his gaze.

“Even though I told you I couldn’t trust you, there was a small part of me, deep down that knew I still did. With my mother, with Dawn…I never wanted to admit it to myself, and I especially wasn’t admitting it to you. Trusting means you let someone get close. Close enough that when they hurt you, it cuts so deep and leaves you in pieces. And I couldn’t let you have that type of power. You already had so much over me. You knew me better than anyone. You knew me better than I knew myself.” Buffy cupped Spike’s face tenderly.

“But I’m not afraid, not anymore. I trust you, Spike. And if you still want me, want us, I’m ready. And this is not a half way thing. I want it all, the whole shebang—the blood breath, the smoking, the obnoxious goading and gloating, the…” The rest of her list was cut off by Spike’s lips on hers, only to break away when he scooped her off the couch and cradled her close to his chest, her arm instinctually looping around his neck.

“So I take that as a yes?” Spike answered her with another scorching kiss, lasting until Buffy pulled away giggling. “Okay, okay! It’s yes.” Spike went to swoop in for another kiss, but Buffy’s finger to his lips stopped him. “Just so you know, you’re asking for it, buster. Like, you’ll be in it big time—the monthly splurges of chic flicks and all-you-can-eat chocolate-thons, dealing with my totally obscene love of cheese, and my overall aversion to any type of housework and I leave my stakes lying around all willy-nilly. But if you think you can handle it…”

Spike pushed past her finger and silenced her again with a kiss. Within a few strides, they were in his bedroom. He gently set her down to stand at the foot of his twin bed. He tilted her face upwards and held her gaze.

“I can handle everything you can dish out, and then some, sweetheart. You wouldn’t be Buffy without all of those little quirks and nuances. And I’m quite fond of Buffy—the Slayer. The Woman. My lover. And speaking of which…”

His last few words were a husky murmur against her ear, and then he backed away. With his eyes remaining fixed on her the entire time, he sat down on the bed and backed up until he was leaning against the wall behind the head of the bed.

“Lose the shirt.” His voice was deep and seductive, with a hint of lustful demand. When she reached for the hem without hesitation, and her renewed arousal hit the air; he knew she wanted him just as much.

“Now the pants.”

Resembling a paşa openly admiring his concubine, his eyes roamed over her while a humming from deep in his throat voiced his approval. Buffy never broke away from his gaze. He watched the simmering fire grow in her eyes, matching his in intensity and longing.

“Come here, luv.” Spike held out his hand, which she immediately took and joined him on the bed. Their mouths met and tenderness soon gave way to passion, only to break apart with her removing his shirt and pulling Spike down on top of her.

“So long…too bloody long.”

Buffy murmured her agreement as Spike settled between her splayed thighs. His mouth teased and tasted, mapping the slope of her neck. Then lowering still, he nipped her breasts through the silkiness of her bra. Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and skillfully rolled them. Perched astride his lap, she took control. Opening the front clasp of her bra, she slowly bared herself to him. Never breaking eye contact, Spike explored her body. Yet avoided touching her breasts, leaving her craving more.

“Spike…”

Buffy cried out when he suddenly sat up, pressing himself into where she wanted him the most and drawing her nipple into his mouth to suckle. Buffy fisted her hands in his hair, holding him to task as she rocked against him, seeking friction. Even though a layer of denim and silk was between them, she was still burning him with her heat. The rest of their clothes were slowly shed, all the while they tasted and explored one another.

Unlike all the other times, this was more than a connection in the physical sense. This wasn’t about who held the power or control, or merely scratching an itch. This was a connection building from trust and dared he believe, love. This was a connection that in all his years, he’d never truly experienced. The mere thought brought him to tears.

Spike felt her stilling, her hands leaving his body to cup his face. She placed scattered tender kisses to his cheeks, capturing his tears and his sorrow.

“I know, Spike. I feel the same.”

He rested his forehead against hers, their gazes locked. On the heels of her words, he shifted and slid home. Home. There wasn’t another word to best describe this all-encompassing connection. After all this time of searching and longing, he was finally home.

Their climaxes built slowly. Steadily. When the tide of her climax finally hit, she cried out and he was swept away in the wake. With a parting kiss, he settled beside her and pulled her in close, trailing his fingers lightly over her arm wrapped around his middle. Right now there wasn’t a need for words. Tonight, his doubts were put to rest. Not only from what she had said, but from what she hadn’t spoken at all.

Buffy trusted him.

Buffy loved him.

And for now, that was all that mattered.