Part Three

The thirty-one year old Vampire Slayer made it to the edge of the cemetery before slowing her jog down to a brisk walk.  She was full of excited energy, practically tingling in anticipation of the fight that was coming.  Not to mention she hadn't seen him in eight days, thanks to his damned rigid schedules and rules. 

There was still a grin on her face as she sifted through the memories of the battle ten years ago and the conversation that had come after. 

It had been more than painful at the time, but when viewed through the lens of time and distance, and knowing how wonderfully it had all turned out, even the most poignant memory could be viewed fondly.

But 'fond' was a far cry from what she'd been feeling at the time. 

At the time, she'd been little more than a trembling, aching shell.  Alone in a cemetery, haunted by words she was deathly afraid were true - even as she denied them vehemently.

She'd felt tiny and lonely and lost after Spike had kissed her, claimed her, scorched her with a heat that shouldn't have been possible for vampires to exude.  And she'd been very confused. 

Spike was chipless and he'd attacked her.  He hadn't killed her.  He told her things that made her stomach writhe and churn.  Dug up fears she had buried so deep that when first hearing them aired publicly, she'd raged against them ferociously. 

And she would have just shoved them all away, she really would have.  Pushed them back down into that dark place inside that no one ever examined.  Thinking back on that night she could admit to herself that what Spike had told her had been so brutally honest, stripped her so bare, that her first, second, and third instinct was to bury it again and forget it ever happened.

That's what she would have done.  But someone else had shown up that night, someone she'd never told Spike about.  She had kept the secret all these years so he would never have to know that it hadn't just been his words, his actions that finally opened her eyes and freed her heart. 

Knowing the truth may hurt him, and she didn't want to do that. 

She could never tell Spike it had been another man entirely that prevented her from turning her back on everything he told her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy collapsed to her knees after Spike left, exhausted and emotionally spent.  Her mind and heart were in turmoil, struggling to push away everything he had said.

It was absurd.  Vampires couldn't change.  They were evil.  If Spike had that chip out, it was only a matter of time before he returned to his old habits.  Sure, he hadn't killed her tonight when he could have - that was just an aberration, though...right?

It had to be.  If it wasn't, if Spike had really changed then that meant that Angel could have...

But Spike told her he couldn't.  And it was because of the very soul that Buffy had loved so much.  How's that for punishing irony?  It couldn't be true.  That wouldn't be fair.  How much was she supposed to be able to take?

"Nice night, isn't it?"

The voice made her jump, she hadn't heard anyone approaching - not generally a good thing for someone who was well aware of the badness that stalked the cemeteries.  It was just lucky for her that the voice belonged, not to a demon, but a friend.

She wiped at her eyes hastily and got to her feet, meeting Xander's concerned gaze.

"Xander, hey!"  False enthusiasm was better than a weepy Slayer.

Xander watched her defenses shoot up and sighed internally.  Looked like it was intervention time...again.

While he and Giles had been crouched in the bushes, watching the fight between the two supernaturally strong warriors, they had been concerned that Spike, while having good intentions, wouldn't be able to control his darker nature and would give in to the blood lust, seriously hurting or killing Buffy.  As they watched, though, they saw Spike get staked - almost dusted - before she brought him down a few minutes later.  Concern shifted to the vampire.   

Toward the end - though he couldn't believe he was even contemplating it - Xander had made a move to stop Buffy from plunging the stake into Spike's heart.  Only Giles' restraining grip stopped him. 

"Spike is doing this willingly," the Watcher had whispered, "you have to let it end the way it's going to end."

Grudgingly, Xander agreed.

But he really didn't like it.  Somehow, at some point after the whole Glory thing, Xander had started to consider Spike as something akin to a friend.  A friend he still mostly disliked...but, hey, he didn't want the guy dead...oh wait...he already was.  Okay, so he didn't want him any deader.  He'd rather cut off his own arm than admit it, but it was true.  And Spike had proven that he loved Buffy more than anything; he would never hurt her.  That had gone a long way with Xander.  He had really changed. 

So when the fight was over, when it was obvious that the two warriors weren't going to kill each other, Xander suggested to Giles that they take off - let Buffy and Spike work the rest out on their own. 

He didn't tell him that he was planning on doubling back to eavesdrop on the rest. 

Xander waited until Giles got into his car and pulled away before heading back towards Spike's crypt.  And what he'd heard, the truths that Spike disclosed to Buffy, had left him in stunned amazement.  It was so obvious when you think about it.  He never had, even though he'd known for a while now that Buffy felt something for the vampire. 

She wouldn't be so aggressively opposed to the idea if it weren't true.

But he had never guessed that the reason she had only allowed Spike in so far was because she didn't want to admit he really had changed.  That's just...bizarre.  And, as usual, it was all because of Angel.

Man, now that was one vampire that had done a lot of damage - both with his soul and without. 

Listening in, Xander finally saw Spike leave.  He watched as Buffy sank to her knees, looking despondent and alone.  Not real promising.  He had to do something.

"How's it going, Buffster?"

"Good.  I'm good.  Don't I look good?"  Buffy's hyper rambling sounded off even to her own ears.  She tried to calm down.  "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Just out for a walk, listening to the...night."

Buffy glanced at him like he'd lost his mind.  Her eyebrows rose and she tilted her head slightly, waiting for him go on with his ridiculous explanation.  Then it hit her.  He knew.

"The night, huh?  Interesting, what with the bugs and the chirping frogs and the...bugs. Hear anything special?"  Her hands fisted at her hips and she narrowed her eyes in warning.

"Actually, I did," he continued calmly.  Calm was the only way this was going to work.  Calm and rational.  "Heard all kinds of nighty specialness." 

Nodding his head in the direction Spike had gone, he made his words as gentle as possible, "He was right, you know.  About all of it."

Buffy's stomach was just destined to not be calm and happy tonight.  It lurched into her throat.  "I'm not talking about this, Xander, not with you, not with anyone.  Leave it alone."

"I can't do that, Buffy.  It's happening again and I can't just stand by and let you do this to yourself."

"Do what to myself?" she asked harshly.  "What are you, anyway, my self appointed guardian angel?  News flash, Xander.  Big girl here.  More than capable of taking care of myself." 

There was barely controlled hostility in her voice.

"And you don't know everything.  You don't know what's going on.  Spike's chip is gone...or down...or something.  He can feed again, be a killer again."

"Yeah.  I kinda got that.  But he didn't, did he?  You know he won't.  You just didn't want to deal with what that meant.  Now you have to.  And personally, I think Spike forgot to mention one other thing that you need to deal with."

Glaring was something Buffy excelled in, a fact that her friend was uncomfortably familiar with as she burned holes into him from steps away.

"That's good, Xander.  Cuz I don't have enough on my plate right now.  Please, add another yummy helping.  Go ahead, tell me what else you 'think' I need to deal with."

Somber and serious, Xander stared into Buffy's stormy eyes for a long second before answering. 

"Angel doesn't deserve the homage you continue to pay to him."

His words shocked and wounded her.  It felt like he reached into her chest and ripped out her still-beating heart.  Buffy couldn't even respond.  The pain was so bad she fled from it.  Spinning on her heels, she tried to stalk away.  Xander's hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"Listen to me, Buffy, you really need to hear this.  Angel left - maybe Spike's right, maybe Angel's soul prevents Angelus from making the choices that Spike can make, but it was Angel that left you.  He wanted you to have a normal life.  What, was he nuts?  Vampire Slayer, fighter of all things terrifying, guardian of a Hellmouth, savior of humanity - NOT NORMAL.  Big not normal.  And if Angel didn't get that then he didn't get you.  He didn't.  He left.  Riley didn't get it, either.  He left, too.  Spike hasn't.  And guess what, Buffy?  He's not going to.  He's the one that gets it, gets you.  You finally found what you said you've been looking for.  A good guy that you don't chase away."

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest defensively and rolled her eyes at Xander's characterization of Spike as 'good'.

"Okay...so not a typical good in that 'white hat charges to the rescue' kind of way.  But he is a good guy, Buff, good for you.  One you don't terrify with your alarming strength and remarkable self-involvement - your words, not mine."

Her head reared a bit in surprise when Xander hit her with what she'd told him a year ago.  She remembered the conversation.  She'd been willing to change her habits, cut down on slaying, laugh at bad jokes, anything to be able to keep a guy that would...well, keep.

"Spike has seen your heart Buffy, that amazing heart of yours, and he fell in love with it.  Of course it changed him, how could it do anything but?  And he knows you love him.  It's up to you.  Do you want to live your life alone or do you want to finally let go of Angel and accept the love that you've been hoping for?"

Just the thought of living a life of aloneness sent the cold dagger of lonely plunging into her heart.  She didn't want to be alone, she wanted to share her life with someone that she didn't have to lie to or hold back from.  But she also wanted one that wasn't likely to wake up one day and decide to go all evil bad guy again.

Like who, Buffy, Parker?  He was a 'normal' guy...and hello to the hurt and shame, there.  Not to mention Ben, the poster child for Multiple Personality Disorder. 

Buffy's thoughts weren't really helping, but she couldn't stop them from flitting through her mind now that they'd started. 

What about Riley?  How did you really feel, knowing you always had to hold back a bit on who you really were so you didn't bruise either him or his ego?  

She didn't have an answer to that one.  Buffy could feel the tears welling in her eyes.  And Xander wasn't finished.

"You're not normal, Buffy.  I'm sorry, but that's the way it is.  You'll only be happy if you embrace the non-normality.  And that's Spike in a nutshell.  Soulless vampire loves a Vampire Slayer, chooses to do good - he's even less normal than you are.  And you've found another guy that doesn't hold back with you.  Another one that risked everything for you.  Don't let this one go, Buffy."

A single tear dropped, trailing down one soft cheek.  Buffy stared at Xander with wide, wet eyes as her lower lip trembled.  Something around her heart - maybe that glass box Spike referred to - shattered and dropped away, piece by razor sharp piece.  It hurt, it really did, but it was a healing pain. 

Everything Xander told her was absolutely true.  Everything Spike told her was absolutely true.  And if she were strong enough to accept it, she wouldn't have to be afraid any more.

Slayers and Summers girls are all about the strong.

Buffy turned her back on Xander when he finally stopped talking.  She didn't walk away, she just stood and stared up into the dark sky.  Her mind was spinning, her heart was pounding, and her stomach was doing somersaults in her throat. 

Xander was right.  She couldn't deny it anymore.  And it was her turn to make a choice.

She faced her friend again, a small smile on her face.  "I thought you didn't like Spike."  Her voice was shaky but she was trying to get herself under control.  Teasing Xander was always good for that.

Xander looked down at the ground sheepishly.  "Yeah, well, he kinda grows on you.  Like fungus."

Buffy sucked in a deep cleansing breath and reached up.  Grabbing Xander's very surprised face between two hands, she pulled his head down and kissed him firmly on the lips.  She grinned impishly at his floored expression before she stepped back - not saying another word - and spun around, running off in the direction Spike had gone.

Xander just stared after her, slack jawed and thunderstruck.  **Great,** he thought to himself, **you finally get a Buffy kiss.  All it took was sending her into the arms of a vampire.  That's one way you hadn't tried before.** 

He shook his head slowly but grinned.  He'd done it.  And things were going to be different for all of them from now on.  Different but better.  How cool is that?

~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike was bouncing off the proverbial walls.  This last bit of waiting had always been the hardest for him.  He knew she was coming, knew he would see her soon, but soon was never good enough.  Nowhere near good enough.  Not after eight long, lonely days and nights.

Leaning against the tree, he tried to calm himself down.  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pack of smokes, grinning as he remembered how hard Buffy had tried to convince him to give up what she considered to be his most disgusting habit.  She was so bloody stubborn.  It had taken three years before she finally gave up.  As long as he didn't smoke in the house, she left him to it.

Spike could have quit, and he would have.  He'd do anything for her.  But he had been so amused that Buffy considered his most disgusting habit to be the smoking, not the blood drinking, that he couldn't let go of that one vice.  It had become a symbol of how comfortable she was with the less pleasant requirements of his kind.  She accepted him.

After lighting a cigarette, he pulled his game face forward to maximize his senses.  As soon as she was anywhere near, he would hear her steps, her heartbeat, taste her scent on his tongue as his nose picked up that familiar smell of vanilla and spice that always preceded her arrival.

Ten years.  Perhaps that wasn't so long when compared to the potential un-lifespan of a vampire, but it was huge for a relationship between a vampire and a Slayer.  Not too shabby for a normal couple, either.  And each one of those years had been more thrilling, more challenging, more exciting than any of his previous century plus.

They were good for each other, but he'd always known they would be.  Who else but Buffy, a contradiction in her own right, could give him such a heady blend of fiery passion and tender caring.

He burned for her, ached.  When he let himself be distracted by the more sensual delights that would follow their upcoming confrontation, his chest tightened at the sheer magnitude of feeling.  A very long time ago he had admitted to her that she was in his gut, in his throat.  She still was.  That had never changed. 

She was his eternal flame, shining bright, ever lighting the darkness that he, by his very nature, was shackled to.  He could never be lost in that darkness with such a beacon of fiery life guiding him, enveloping him. 

But after that first fight, after he'd walked away from her, he had despaired of ever finding his way through the endless night.  He had despaired of ever being let into her heart.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Each step he took was torture.  Spike trudged through the cemetery and away from the girl he loved more than his own unlife, misery slumping his shoulders and bowing his head.

He was kicking himself.  He pushed her too far, too fast.  He'd ruined everything.  She would never let him near her now. 

Oh man, she wouldn't let him anywhere near Little Bit, either.  Damn it.

**You just had to kiss her, didn't you, you soddin' git.  What the bloody hell were you thinkin'?  Iddn't some flouncy fairy tale, ya know.  Are you really so daft that you thought you'd kiss her and she'd have some kind of bleedin' epiphany?  Don't work like that, mate.  Not in real life, anyway.**

She hadn't staked him though, right?  That had to count for something. 

**Unless she was just so mightily pissed off that she didn't know whether to shove a sharp stick into your chest or rip your head right off your body, and you just got lucky and escaped before she'd made up her mind.**

So what was he supposed to do now? 

Every ounce of common sense he had was telling him to leave her alone for a while.  Let her calm down.  Let her get used to the chipless but non-killing Spike.

But since when did he ever take the common sense road?  Truly a road less traveled with Spike.

Unfortunately, he didn't have any others this time.  It's not that he was afraid that she would stake him good and proper if he went back and talked to her...well, okay, so it was a little of that.  But mostly it was because he knew her so well.

If he went back to her right now she would turn all that hurt and confusion into a stone wall of anger, shutting him out completely...forever.  If she hadn't already.

Bloody hell.

Irritated...no, just plain mad at how his good intentions had gotten so royally buggered, Spike's steps sped up unconsciously. 

Damn Angel to hell, this was all his fault. 

It wasn't enough that Brood Boy took one women he'd loved away from him just by being around - and that still stung, remembering just how fast Dru had turned him out for her ponce of a papa - but the poof was also the reason the only other woman he'd ever loved wouldn't give him the time of day if she were standing next to a bloody clock.

Nancy-boy wasn't even in the damn picture anymore, and still he had Buffy closed up tighter than a virgin's knees.  The sod.

Spike paced cagily in a small clearing on the edge of the cemetery, temper flaring hotly.

Problem wasn't that you kissed her, mate; you just didn't kiss her enough.  You know what you should do?  You should get yourself back to the girl, grab her up into your arms, and not let go until you've buried yourself deep inside her.  If she's gonna stake you anyway, may as well dust happy.  Get some action comin' and goin', so to speak.  Least you know she wouldn't be thinkin' of the poof anymore.  Not after she took a walk on the wild side with good old Spike.

Back and forth and back, Spike stalked.  His body caught fire and burned at the idea of plunging between Buffy's legs, driving all possible thought of Angel - of any man that wasn't him - from her mind.  The demon in him was goading him, stirring up his lust and craving for the girl to a fevered peak.

Images burst forth in his mind in blinding Technicolor.  A stream of raw sexual fantasy that had him hard and heavy and ready for release.  And they completely numbed his other senses to his surroundings.

"Spike."

He didn't hear her approach.  He didn't notice her standing in the shadows, watching him with curiosity, wondering about the pacing.  He didn't hear her call his name softly as he growled in sexual hunger at the scene in his head.

But the breeze shifted.  And it brought her scent to him on warm night air heavy laden with jasmine.  His body froze and he turned his head slowly, following the scent with his senses.  Blue eyes, lit from within and searing in the intensity of their gaze, met hers from across the clearing and he gave her a pure animalistic grin she didn't understand.

Buffy took a deep breath.  This was one of those moments that changed lives forever.  And now all that was left was the letting him know.  She needed to tell him he was right - about everything.  Even about the part that she loved him.  She wanted to apologize to him, for refusing to accept him for so long.  For refusing to see what her eyes had been telling her for about a year, since he'd almost died under Glory's less than gracious hospitality for protecting Dawn.  Oh, and she had some questions, too.

She didn't get a chance to form the first words.

Mindlessly, Spike lunged at her.  Moving faster than she'd ever thought possible - even for a vampire - he was on her.  She didn't get time to react.

Spike was driven by the endless fantasy playing in his head.  When he caught her scent, he had to act.  His hands reached out and grabbed her hips, yanking them into him, slamming them against his body.  He heard her gasp when she felt his arousal pressing hard against his jeans.  He felt her hot hands slap into his chest for balance, but she didn't push him away.  Not that he would have let her, even if she had. 

No, her hands, so hot, so small and hot, seared his flesh through his tee shirt, but they didn't push him away.  He didn't take the time to question why. 

Tilting his head, he stared down into her huge eyes, feral hunger blazing brightly.  He watched for her reaction as he moved his hips from side to side, grinding against her, teasing his aching cock with the friction from the back and forth movement across her stomach.

Buffy couldn't move, after that first gasp of air she couldn't breathe.  She was pinned to his body by vice-like arms and a stare filled with naked longing.  It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. 

It was too much, way too soon.  And it felt way too good.

She could practically taste his hunger for her, it was huge.  It was incinerating him.  Skin normally cool to the touch gave off wave after wave of heat.  Or maybe that was her heat, and he was just radiating it back to her.  Because make no mistake, she was on fire.

She loved this man in front of her, a man that was pressing his hard shaft into her stomach purposefully, a man that was waiting for a response of some kind from her.

And she couldn't think of a single one of the things she needed to tell him.  They were gone, fled right out of her head as her arousal - sparked by his - heated her blood and her body.

When her fogged mind realized that he was holding himself back, that he was still waiting for her word to continue, she tried to force words through her parched throat.

"Spike, I think I -"

"Shut up."

She frowned slightly in confusion.

"Through talkin', Buffy.  Through playin'.  No more bloody discussions.  This is me."  He grabbed at one of her hands and brought it down to his demanding cock.  "Feel it.  Feel what you do to me.  You burn me, luv.  Set me on fire hotter than the sun and I can't fight it anymore.  I won't fight it anymore.  Stake me if you're gonna, but do it now, because once we start, you won't get another chance.  I'm takin' you tonight.  You're gonna feel the flames.  Dance with me, Buffy.  Give it me good."

At the feel of him in her hand, her breathing had started back up with a choked gasp of surprise, but it was ragged and gasping.  Her heart sped up and slammed erratically in her chest, throbbing almost painfully through her veins.

Suddenly, the words could wait.  Her body couldn't, her needs wouldn't.  This was Spike at his most honest and she reveled in it.  The girl and the Slayer, together in one petite body, neither holding back, neither bothering to worry about hurting or getting hurt. 

Buffy stared at him, breathing heavily.  He still hadn't moved.  Despite his words, he was still waiting.  And she knew what she wanted.  She gave him her answer.

"I want you."

And it was as if a dam had broken for both of them.

A rumbling growl of need rose from deep in his chest and he released her hips to grab her arms and pull her even closer.  Starving for her touch, for her lips, his head dropped and captured her mouth even as her fingers clutched at his chest.

She opened under his assault, matched his greed.  She felt his hand tighten around a handful of hair before he pulled her head back, exposing her neck to him.  Fearless, she opened her eyes and watched him gaze longingly at her throbbing pulse.  She smiled seductively.

"See anything you like?"

He was surprised, glancing at her eyes and seeing the acceptance, the desire, the hunger that so closely matched his own.  He sucked in a deep breath and his eyes grew wide with a possessive gleam.

"Damn right, I do."

Baring his teeth, his blunt, human teeth, he sent her a look of pure sex before lunging to her throat.  He chewed gently on the skin above her pulse and Buffy almost came right there.  It was so erotic, so powerful.  She trembled in desire.

Two could play that game.

She tore at his shirt, trying to remove the offending barrier to his flesh, pulling it out of his jeans and sliding her hands underneath it.  She was rewarded when he shuddered as her hands came in contact with his stomach.  His tight, muscular stomach.  She slid her hands up each ridged muscle, exploring the texture of his skin. 

Wanting more, wanting to push him over the edge, she dragged her nails sharply and quickly down the path her hands had come.  His head snapped back and he hissed in a combination of pleasure and pain.

He had to struggle for control; he almost lost it when he felt her nails.  Too many clothes.  He wanted to bury himself deep inside her womb and he wanted it now.

But not here.  Not at the edge of a cemetery where some daft bugger could stroll by at any minute and catch a show.

His hands, warm from the contact with her body, slid slowly and sensuously up her sides.  As if she weighed no more than a feather, she felt him lift her off the ground.  Shaking with want, her legs wrapped around his slender waist and she hugged his shoulders tightly.  She buried her hands into his short hair and pulled his mouth back to hers, biting down on his bottom lip before laving it with her tongue.

Teasing him, she pulled back when he leaned his head forward, trying to delve into her mouth.  Taunting him, pushing him higher and higher, she buried her head in his neck and bit down, matching his earlier move.  

She was rewarded by his tortured moan.

Spike cradled her to him, felt her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, felt her teeth at his neck, and bit back an oath.  She was going to kill him.  He'd had no idea.  She was really going to kill him if he didn't get inside her soon.

Unfettered by the weight of the girl in his arms, Spike walked quickly back towards his crypt, plundering her mouth the entire way.  Playing, sipping, drinking from those lips as he moved her closer and closer to her capture.  He had no doubt that by the end, she'd belong to him just as securely as he belonged to her.  He didn't know how or why he'd been given this chance, but he'd stake himself before he passed it up.  He belonged to her. 

And the time for talking would just have to be later...much later.

~ Continue to Part 4 ~

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