“So you plannin’ on hangin’ round my neck like a monkey all night, luv?”

“Yep!” Buffy replied brightly from her perch on his back, legs around Spike’s waist and arms around his neck. “And don’t be such an ass…it’s not like I’m too heavy for you to carry.”

Spike laughed a bit, hitching her up slightly as he walked towards the garage. “Not complainin’, luv—not at all. Take you as long as I can have you, ‘s just…’s a bit new, innit? Not like we were ever this friendly…or this open…before. Hell, your watcher and the whelp just watched you jump on my back after you told them you were stayin’ with me and nobody said a word ‘cept for the Bit and Red gigglin’ like demented schoolgirls and Andrew goin’ on about the glorious reunion of Arwyn and Aragorn. ‘m not used to this, luv.”

“Well, they did kinda see me jump on your front too… with the whole grand reunion smoochies… and I told you—get used to this. You died to save to save the world, Spike—that buys you a certain amount of slack. Willow and Dawn are happy I’m happy, and they both lean towards the liking of you anyway. Giles admitted he was wrong about you in the first hour out of the hellmouth… doesn’t mean things are all hugs & bunnies between he and I, but it helped that he realized what… who you were. And Xander… well, Xander and I had a lot in common after…”

“Anyanka…?”

“Didn’t make it out. Died protecting Andrew, of all things,” Buffy giggled through sniffles and the tears that had started to spill. It was somehow easier to deal with the big emotional revelations this way, when they didn’t have to maintain visual contact. Spike had always been better at the emotional than she was; she’d been working on it, but she still had a years-long tradition of holding in her feelings that was tough to break. For now, his hands on her knees holding her up were support enough to let her continue.

“We both lost someone we loved in that fight, and I think… Xander found me one night, laying on top of the bus crying, and we talked—really talked—about you and Anya and what you meant to us. I think he saw then that it was real… that we were real to me… and he understood. Xander and I were the two left behind. There were a lot of those nights when we couldn’t sleep, and we took turns—he told me everything he could remember about Anya, and I told him everything about the year I came back, the way I turned to you, needed you… the way you took care of me. And then how things went bad, how much I hurt you… how you tried… that night… which he sort of knew but not really. And how you got your soul, and came back for me. I don’t think he’ll ever really understand what it meant for you to do what you did with the soul… but I think he’s trying to. He told me on the plane after Andrew told me about you that he’d never seen me look so happy, and that he was glad ‘Deadboy Jr.’ did the right thing and came back for me—that it was time for one of us to take the happiness the Powers or whoever wanted us to have and hold on to it.”

“Bloody hell…” Spike whispered through a throat suddenly impossibly tight with emotion. “Never thought the whelp…”

Buffy’s arms and legs tightened slightly around him, hugging him as best she could. “Xan grew up, Spike. He fought and loved and lost, and it made him a good man.”

“That it did, luv… seems that it did.” Why was he swallowing around a lump in his throat? Shouldn’t mean this much that Xander of all people approved of he and Buffy, but it did. Spike shook his head slightly, deciding for himself to definitely blame the gushy feelings on the soul—poncy William and his need to belong. Yeah, it was all William.

“You doin’ alright, there, Big Bad?” Buffy asked, sliding forward until her cheek rested against his and squeezing him tightly.

“’m fine, Slayer. Just a lot to try to take in all at once, is all.”

“I know… and I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t coming down all at once like this... whoa, pretty cars!”

Spike laughed and fished in his pocket for the keys to the car du jour he had grabbed on the way past Harmony’s desk. Pressing the auto-unlock button, he hid a grin when the car turned out to be a classic Thunderbird…had to be karma. Feeling his grin against her cheek, Buffy started giggling uncontrollably as he let go of her legs and she slid to the floor. “Let me guess… Angel’s car?”

“They’re all Angel’s, luv… this just happens to be a favorite,” Spike replied, very close to unmanly giggles himself. “Was just thinkin’ it’s a great streak of luck… leavin’ the Poof’s office in his favorite car with his ex to whom I plan to do unspeakable things…”

“Unspeakable?” Buffy repeated, eyes slightly glazed as she moved towards him, pressing herself against him and tipping her head backwards. “Promise?”

“God, I love you, woman,” Spike growled, pulling her impossibly closer and crushing his mouth to hers. They both lost themselves completely in the moment, Spike backing Buffy up towards the car before lifting her and sitting her on the bonnet.

Buffy raised her legs around his waist, circling her hips to grind against him as she broke away from his lips panting. “Want you, Spike… god, want you so much… wanted you for so long,” she gasped, dropping her legs from his waist and scooting forward, pushing him backwards gently while she ran her tongue and teeth gently across his jaw and down his throat.

“If you want me, luv, why push me away?” Spike asked in a husky whisper, only to gasp as he was shoved up against the car door, small impatient hands tugging on the waistband of his jeans. “Buffy… what’re you…?

“Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten, Spike?” Buffy giggled, dropping to her knees as she started to drag the zipper down. “I think once you called it cheating… most people just call it blowing.”

“Bloody hell… I remember, luv… believe me…” He nearly whimpered as he felt her hand wrap around his erection and deftly remove him from his pants, but he couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his lips as he felt her tongue slide up the underside of his shaft. His hands flew up into her hair, and he looked down to see her looking straight back into his eyes, tracing her tongue around the head of his cock before closing her lips around him and easing him further into her mouth. The sight of that beautiful mouth wrapped around him when he had resigned himself to never even seeing her again nearly pushed him over the edge, and he closed his eyes and dropped his head backwards, determined to enjoy every second of this blessing.

Buffy hummed softly in approval, bobbing her head and easing him more deeply down her throat. When her lips were wrapped tightly around the base of his shaft, she slid her hands up the backs of his thighs to cup his ass through his jeans, pushing him gently forward before sucking in her cheeks and pulling backwards. Spike seemed to know intuitively what she wanted; tightening his hands in her hair he began to rock his hips back and forth, gradually increasing his pace. Buffy’s hands had moved forward and beneath him to cup and gently squeeze his sac through his jeans, and she focused on the contractions of her throat around him as he sank fully into her mouth and the maneuvering of her tongue around all the super-sensitive areas she knew so well as he pulled back. Desperate to bring him off, to have that one further proof that he was really there with her, she began to bob her head faster in opposition to his thrusts, forcing him deeper down her throat and drawing back until he nearly escaped the confines of her mouth.

Spike could hardly get his mind around what was happening, but he couldn’t really be bothered to care. All he knew was the absolutely glorious feeling of Buffy’s warm mouth wrapped around him and oh, Christ, that marvelous little throat letting him in and contracting around him. He could hardly believe that Buffy had begun this, much less encouraged him to thrust into her mouth at will while her hands played elsewhere; she’d blown him before, of course, but never had she let him have complete control. When she began to move in synch with him, slamming him into her throat and pulling back with her tongue working feverishly against his veins and the tender little ridge right beneath the head, he stopped trying to control himself at all. He gave himself over to mindless thrusting, groaning and babbling what he knew was utter and unintelligible nonsense about her beauty and perfection as he felt his balls begin to tighten. Summoning all his remaining faculties, he managed to choke out a “Buffy… love you…” before he lost complete control, holding her head still as he came in short, quick bursts.

Spike sank against the support provided by the car against his back, both grateful that Buffy had had the foresight to move him here and impressed that he was still standing. He looked down to see Buffy smiling at him, tucking him back into his pants before re-fastening them and standing up to face him. He focused his slowly-recovering muscle control into pulling her tightly against him, brushing his lips gently against hers before deepening the kiss, her arms wrapping around him as their tongues tangled gently. Buffy finally pulled away, positively beaming with happiness, and Spike felt a catch in the breath he didn’t even need as he felt his eyes fill with tears. Buffy didn’t mention them, simply pulled him forward gently and pressed light kisses to each brow before pulling back, meeting his gaze, and whispering, “Baby, let’s go home.”

Mercifully, the drive to Spike’s apartment was short—at least with the way he was driving. Buffy had never been so simultaneously annoyed with and thankful for traffic lights in all her life; every red light offered a new opportunity for heated kisses and frenzied explorations, bittersweet for their brevity but absolutely exhilarating.

As they merged onto the sparsely-trafficked freeway, Spike reached across the small space separating them, allowing his hand to slide slowly up her thighs. Buffy moaned softly and leaned back against the seat, parting her legs and pressing her hips up in a silent plea. Spike chuckled, glancing out of the corner of his eye to take her in, absolutely radiant in her desperate lust—eyes glazed and fixed on him, lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly with each panting breath. God, she had always been so beautiful this way, so wanton and vulnerable all at once. Damned if he could resist her now or ever.

Turning his eyes back to the road, he allowed his hand to move the few remaining inches until he was cupping her mound, gasping at the intensity of the heat and moisture he could feel even through the denim of her pants. “Christ, luv,” he murmured reverently as he moved his fingers gently, manipulating the seam of her jeans against her clit. Her gasped cry of his name let him know that she was close to her release, and her hand wrapped around his wrist as if to trap him there. “Not gonna leave you wanting, precious girl,” he promised, speeding the motion of his fingers slightly and smiling as the volume of her whimpers rose. “Come for your Spike, Buffy. Let me do this for you. Such a beautiful, beautiful girl… can’t believe I have you here with me, luv. Never gonna let you go again. Gonna make you feel just like this every day… make sure you know how much I love you.”

Every word from his mouth was taking her one step higher, closer to orgasm. His voice had always been able to do that to her, to ratchet up desire she didn’t think could get any more desperate. But now… every syllable and every delicious motion of his hand had her begging in wordless syllables for release. Not able to tear her eyes away from him, she tightened her grip even more on his wrist as she pressed her thighs together. “Spike, oh God…” she moaned before her words faded into pants and gasps as orgasm overtook her.

Thankful for the late hour and the nearly empty road, Spike couldn’t help but turn his head to watch as she came. Shuddering against his hand, lower lip caught between her teeth as she whimpered and gasped, widened and unfocused eyes still not moving from his face—he knew effulgent was a ridiculous word that made him sound like a ponce, but right now he didn’t care. That’s what she was, arbiters of poetic quality be damned, and she was his.

As soon as the last tremors had faded, Buffy scooted closer to Spike and rested her head against his shoulder, slipping her hand from his wrist to entwine their fingers. Her other hand briefly came to rest on his shoulder before reaching up to run through his hair, finishing what he had started during the meeting and tugging it completely free into freeform curls and spikes.

Spike had turned his head again as Buffy had curled into him, placing a quick kiss to her forehead before turning back to the road. He frowned briefly before succumbing to her lighthearted makeover, proud that he managed to only briefly grumble, “Don’t know why you wanna make me look like a git, luv.”

Buffy simply laughed and leaned up to brush a kiss across his cheek. “Like curly…curly makes you look all ravaged and yummy.”

“Oh.” Spike couldn’t stop the little smile from crossing his face. “Muss away, then.”

“Done mussing… but I haven’t even started with the ravaging,” Buffy responded in a voice so husky with desire it made Spike’s foot descend on the gas pedal with every bit of force he could muster as he veered off the freeway at their exit.

“Hold that thought, luv…there in a heartbeat.” Never had he thought he would be so grateful for an apartment so near the bloody freeway. The morning traffic jam symphonies were hell on vamp hearing and the exhaust smells weren’t exactly English rose gardens, but what a sweet compensation for the pain was the treasure sitting next to him. He made the sharp turn into his parking lot, then braked hard in the first parking space he could find. Slamming the car into park, he turned his head and met Buffy’s lips for a passionate kiss, pulling her towards him as he slid out of the car. Lifting her into his arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist, he slammed the car door closed and fought the urge to break into a run as he carried her towards his apartment.

Spike forced himself to break away from Buffy’s mouth on his way to the door. It wouldn’t do to drop her, and truth be told his balance was nearly shot, a condition not at all helped by the grinding of her pelvis against his or the presence of her teeth and tongue along his jugular. He sobbed with relief when the door came into sight and he quickened his pace, reaching it and pressing her up against it as his hands dropped to madly search his pockets for his keys. Growling with frustration as he groped futilely in his empty duster, he heard a jingle and looked up to see Buffy’s mischievous smile and small hand dangling the keys in front of him. *Little wench had the pickpocket skills of a Whitechapel strumpet.*

“Um, Spike? You might wanna look into getting an internal monologue, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you just called me something I’d normally kick your ass for calling me.”

Spike’s eyes widened as he realized he had muttered that last bit out loud. He had the grace to look sheepish, although it was clear from the laughter in her eyes that she wasn’t really angry. “Ta, luv… but are you sure you don’t wanna maybe prove some other skills in that direction?” he asked, eyebrow raised and smirk firmly in place.

“Oink, Spike,” Buffy answered, rolling her eyes to hide her snort of amusement. “Now would you like to open the door… please?”

Spike swiftly twisted the key in the lock, and Buffy’s arms shot back around his neck as the door swung open behind her. Recapturing his balance and managing to avoid tumbling forward into the apartment, Spike tightened his arms around her waist and made it through the door only to be pushed against the other side of it by Buffy’s strong arms. Their tongues continued to tangle heatedly, and Buffy’s hands slid back down towards his jeans. Spike tore away from her lips, and the look in his widened eyes stopped her in her tracks.

“Buffy, luv… not this time… not like this, please.” He could hardly get the words out, but the horrific sense of déjà vu wouldn’t let him continue without voicing his fears. He knew in his head that everything was different—hell, he had heard it, seen it, and felt it—but as he stood there against the door with her around him his memories merged with the present and he couldn’t have said for certain where he truly was. As Buffy unwrapped her limbs and slid down to stand in front of him, he closed his eyes and began mentally berating himself. *Just brilliant, you soddin’ wanker. Throw your bloody dreambird off of you because you can’t let the past go. I’m just sure she’ll take it well.*

Buffy took a step back, angry at herself for not having the sense to know that this was the wrong way to go about this first time. When she had seen him and held him earlier, everything had just melted away; she had almost been able to forget the painful history behind them in the miracle of his presence. Now, however, it all came back full force, and she realized that Spike had shown more terror in his eyes in that one moment of unshielded emotion than she had ever known him to feel. He thought this was it for them, that she was just going to use him again, and it broke her heart.

Praying silently that she was handling this correctly, she met his gaze and held her hand out to him. When he reached out and laced his fingers with hers, she smiled softly and said, “I love you—I want you to know just how much. Take me to bed, Spike. Let me show you how much things have changed.”

Taking a tremulous breath and gracing Buffy with a smile that was nothing short of beatific, Spike led her towards the bedroom. “’S not exactly the Plaza, luv…”

“But it’s home,” Buffy finished for him.