Part Four

Buffy's Slayer sense was on full overdrive.  As soon as she drew close to Spike's crypt, she could feel his presence.  He was waiting for her.  She hadn't expected anything less but it was still comforting after their separation.

She had developed an interesting ability over the last ten years.  For some reason she could never explain, she could tell the difference between Spike and other vampires.  His presence affected her differently than the rest. 

As he had a tendency to pop up unexpectedly when he challenged her, keeping her on her toes and well trained, it had probably kept him from getting accidentally staked on more than one occasion.

Spike had been following her progress through the cemetery for several minutes.  He could see her, moving through the shadows about a hundred yards away, hidden in darkness to all but his vampire sight.  Her pulse was racing.  He couldn't hear it quite yet, but he knew her.  She was always thrilled by their battles. 

This wouldn't be like their multitude of other exercises.  There was only one night a year that he fought her to win.  Most of the time he just worked to advance her training, sparring, not actually inflicting any damage.  Basically stuff he could have done even with the chip...more or less.

Not tonight.  Tonight was a full out war.  It had to be.  That was how it started.  And it was time to begin.

"Slayer!"

Spike stepped from under the tree and tossed his cigarette to the ground.  Demon gold eyes drank in the sight of her perfectly toned body, a body he knew better than he knew his own.

"Just the girl I was lookin' for.  And how're you tonight, luv?"

There was a gleam of anticipation in her eyes as she emerged from the dark and into the cool moonlight.  Her stake was in her hand.  Beauty and the beast, warrior and weapon.  She was ready.

"Must not have been looking very hard, Spike, I've been around.  And I'm much better than you're going to be in a few minutes." 

Each year he said the same thing, asked the same question, and each year she answered differently.  Not to be difficult, but to stake her own claim on the evening, so to speak.

For Buffy, this night meant more to her than she had ever explained in words to Spike, though she had a sneaking suspicion he knew.  Tonight wasn't just about his changes; it was about hers as well. 

That first fight hadn't just opened her eyes to the truth about vampires, about him.  It had moved her past the death wish Spike had called her on once and gave her a full life in its stead.

Buffy had ten glorious years behind her.  Years that provided her with thousands of days that she hadn't woken up wondering if that day was the day she'd die.  Days where she no longer felt those brief, agonizing flashes of just wanting it to be over, the fighting, the battles, the unbelievably difficult choices of life and death.  And it was because of him.

As much as she loved her sister, her friends, Giles - who was so much more than a friend, it was Spike's love for her, his dedication to her, that had filled her, stripping away the inherent loneliness of her sacred duty. 

She was the Slayer and the girl to him and he loved her not despite it, but because of it.  That was his gift.

She walked toward her lover, her best friend, her love, her oldest adversary and staunchest ally.  When she was close enough to touch, close enough to see the barely disguised passion in his gold eyes, she brushed a hand down his cheek.  She shivered in anticipation when he pressed into her hand and closed his eyes in pleasure, soaking up her warmth.

He had missed her.  A lot.  She knew it, had always known it.  Every time he took himself away from her it almost killed him.  She respected his sacrifice and loved him for it.

Didn't mean she wasn't going to try to beat him, though.

Cradling his face in her free hand, she brought her other arm up quickly.  The stake was aimed at his chest and coming in fast.

Spike felt her body tense through the contact with her palm.  Without even opening his eyes, he grabbed the swinging arm and spun her around to press her back into his front.

"Now, now, pet.  That wasn't nice.  At least give me a second to enjoy seein' you again before you try to make me all dusty."

Buffy rubbed her butt against him, feeling his arousal.  "Hey, not my fault you disappear for eight days.  You know the rules, no quarter given to the enemy.  Play to win, right?"

She could feel his chuckle rumble through her chest.

"True enough, luv.  But you're gonna have to do better than that."  He lowered his head and nibbled on her neck, grazing a fang along the pulse in her throat.

Buffy laid her head back against his shoulder and gave herself over to the feelings his mouth gave her.  She'd missed him, too.

It was a brief interlude.

Spike picked her up and threw her several feet away from him.  She lost her balance and went down, rolling gracefully and regaining her footing as she bounced back to her feet.

The vampire snarled at her.  "Time to dance, pet.  Let's do this."

He spun around and brought his fist in hard to meet with her face but she ducked under his arm and knocked his feet out from under him.  He didn't stay down long enough for the kick she aimed at his chest to connect.

Spike grabbed her leg as he sprung up and sent her flying into a headstone.  He winced a little at the sound of her head cracking into the marble, but he didn't let it stop him.  Neither did she.

Shaking her head to clear it, Buffy glared at the hyper vampire in front of her.  He was dancing on the balls of his feet like some prizefighter.  How annoying.  Especially as he was several fights up on her.  Out of the ten years they had fought this battle, Buffy had only won three.  It was positively embarrassing.

"Losin' your touch, are you Slayer?  Gettin' a little soft in your old age?"

It was Buffy's turn to growl.  She lunged at him and hit him with an uppercut that moved so quick he didn't have a chance to block it. 

As his head snapped back satisfyingly, she said snidely, "Soft!  In your dreams, you miserable excuse for a bloodsucker.  You wanna talk about old, you should take a close look at your resume."

"True, luv." Spike ducked the right hook she followed up with, but got slammed by the spinning drop kick.  "But I'm not one to deteriorate like you are.  Immortal and what all." 

"Immortal!" Buffy took a left jab and a right cross that had her staggering backwards.  "You're not immortal, Spike, just long lived.  A fact that I can remedy at any time."

Spike swooped in and grabbed her around the throat with his right hand, shoving her against the crypt and holding her slightly off the ground.  His left hand closed painfully over her right wrist until she had no choice but to drop her stake.  Her numb fingers just couldn't hold on.

Spike leaned in close to her ear and whispered, stirring the hair at her nape with his breath on purpose.  "You get to try, pet.  You do get to try."

Clawing at the hand around her throat and struggling to breathe, Buffy rolled her eyes in disgust.  He loved that line.  Used it on her every single year.  And he always found a way to work it in, even if she didn't give him as good a chance as she had just now.  The fiend.

She kicked him...hard...in the groin. 

Spike felt the kick and winced as the pain exploded inside him.  The fiery heat was so bad he may as well have been standing on the beach at sunrise.  Doubled over, he turned his head to sneer at her but her fist came down to knock him the rest of the way to the ground.

Buffy bent down calmly and picked up her stake, twirling it in her hand as she smiled wickedly.  "Now, if it wasn't for your amazing recuperative powers, I would be worried that the rest of the evening is ruined.  Unless, of course, you're not feeling up to...performing later?"

Sucking in air to balance the agony from her kick, Spike barked out a wry laugh that would have been more effective if he wasn't flat on his back and his eyes weren't watering in pain.  "And when have I ever not felt up to performin' when you're around, pet?"

"Well," she taunted with a teasing glint in her eye, "there was that time four...no, five years ago, now."

Spike rolled out of the way of a booted heel aimed at his midsection, wincing slightly but recovering even as he leapt up.  He grabbed Buffy by her left arm, and flipped her over his shoulder with a quick swivel of his hips. 

She landed hard on her butt and he yanked her back until she was lying at his feet, then spun around, slamming one boot into her stomach to prevent her from flipping out of the way.

He didn't let go of her arm and he felt the muscles in her shoulder give a little as he brought her right arm up above her head to meet her left. He sat on her chest and glared down on her, insulted.

"Oh, please!  I sincerely hope you're not referrin' to the set to we had with that Rhomlix demon, or I'll have to remind you that I was sufferin' third degree burns over all my more delicate parts at the time.  An injury I got while savin' your tasty little ass from bein' toasted crispy, if you remember."

Buffy winced at the pain in her shoulders, her mind leaping through all sorts of possible scenarios to get herself out of his grip.  It didn't keep her saucy mouth from responding on its own.  "Details, details.  You asked for an instance, I gave you one.  Now, you gonna get off me so we can fight or are you going to sit there and bore me with history lessons?"

Spike stared down at her.  The fight was over.  He knew it.  They could go another round or two; they had in the past, but tonight was a special night.  It wasn't just another anniversary; it was their tenth.

Every year they danced to this tune, it came down to this one moment.  The killing moment.  And no matter how much time had passed, or how much they loved and trusted each other, or who won, this was the moment that defined who they were over what they were.

Because bottom line, Spike was a vampire.  Buffy was a Vampire Slayer.  And each knew that but for the choice they had each made, they could kill each other.  That's why it was so important to play this deadly game every year.  And when it came to this moment, whoever was the victor in the fight, the loser couldn't help but feel a sliver of fear.  A brief second to wonder - would the choices be sustained, or turned away from?  Would they give in to their nature or would they rise above it?

Spike shook off his demon visage and stared down at the woman he loved.  She was surprised at the change of routine but tried not to show it.  Usually he went in for the kill before shoving the demon away, just like she did, thrusting the stake towards his chest, only to turn the end at the last moment and lay it gently on his chest.  This was different.

He slid down her body until he was no longer sitting on her, but lying on top of her, still holding her hands over her head.

"Ten years," he said to her, emotion choking his voice.  "Ten years and you're still the most beautiful, most challengin', most excitin' thing I've ever laid eyes on.  I'm a lucky bloke, Buffy.  Happy anniversary."

Buffy was unsure at his actions.  He was always so bound by the rigid rules and schedules.  She was thrown.  "W-what's going on?  Aren't you going to go for the kill?"

Spike smiled slightly and shook his head; twin pools of blue dancing merrily as they met her surprised gaze.  "Not tonight, woman o' mine.  Not tonight.  I've made my choice, Buffy, you've accepted it.  I'm breakin' with tradition just this once.  Hope you're not disappointed."

The Slayer in her relaxed a little and she wriggled one hand out of his loosened grip to trace a finger down his chiseled cheek.  "Disappointed that you're not lunging for my throat, all fangy and 'grrr'?  Don't think so.  Disappointed that you beat me AGAIN?  Just a touch.  I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me, though, so I'm not terribly worried."

The vampire grinned and grabbed Buffy up, jumping to his feet with her nestled securely in his arms.  Her heart pounded, he could feel it.  It had nothing to do with the fight they just finished and everything to do with the dance that was starting.  He brushed a gentle kiss to her forehead and strode over to the door of his crypt.

Buffy's eyebrows shot up in surprise.  It had been ten years since she'd stepped inside the dingy place he used to call home.  When Spike turned his back to the door and slammed it open with his shoulder, both of them were rocketed back in time to their first night together.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike shouldered open his front door with less grace and more force than he'd intended, but he was overly occupied with the bundle of sexual energy wrapped clingingly around him. 

The door crashed open and Buffy started in surprise, pulling back from his mouth just long enough to throw him a wide eyed, dazed stare before focusing again on his lips and diving back in for more.

She wanted him.  She was on fire for him.  Spike couldn't believe it but didn't dare deny it unless it was some kind of three-dimensional fantasy that would be stripped away from him if he examined it too closely.

Striding over to the cement slab of the tomb, he set Buffy down and pulled himself away from her just long enough to light a few candles, grinning as she whimpered a bit when he broke contact. 

She would just have to wait, if he was going to be granted access into paradise, he damn well wanted to see it.

When he first caught her scent in the wind and lunged at her back at the edge of the cemetery, his demon had been driving his actions, but at some point on the trip back to his crypt, Spike had regained some measure of control.  As tenuous as it was.  He was no longer ready to mindlessly plunder the girl in front of him.  He was ready to plunder her mindfully.

She was staring at him.  The heat in her eyes, the desire, it was unmistakable.  But he was enough of a man to need to hear the words again.  He wanted to hear them.

"Buffy?"

Stalking slowly closer, boring into her soul with his glorious eyes, she heard the question he was asking.  Even after everything, he was still giving her an out.  He would let her go, even now, even as hungry for her as he was, if she just told him no.  It was her last chance to turn away from him.

Never had she wanted to do anything less.  Never had she wanted anyone more.  Oblivious and uncaring of her surroundings, Buffy was driven by a force inside her that was greater than rationale, greater than common sense, greater than anything but the want of this man in front of her.

"Spike."

It was a sigh and a scream.  It was a blessing and a curse.  It was admittance into heaven and torture in hell.  And it was all for him.

Spike stepped between her parted legs and brought his hands up to cradle her face.  She raised her chin and closed her eyes as his mouth descended, brushing at first gently, then more insistently against hers.  She opened her lips and slid her tongue into his cool mouth and shivered.

The fire grew to an inferno.

His hands slid down her neck, across her shoulders, and down her arms, sending electric currents through her body with a delicious tingle as their mouths dueled.  Their tongues parried and thrust, dancing to a melody only they were able to hear.

Slipping under her shirt, Spike felt the burning of her flesh at her stomach and cooled it with his caress.  Buffy arched her back in response, giving him access to her covered breasts.  He cupped the small, round weights and rubbed a thumb over each nipple.  She groaned at the feelings that shot to her core at his touch.

Clawing at his jacket, Buffy stripped Spike of the first barrier between them and tossed it behind her.  Trembling with need and eyes alight with desire, she grinned an all knowing smile and grabbed his tee shirt by the collar, using her strength to rip it down the front.  Aroused by the show of force, Spike sucked in a deep breath and watched, satisfied, as Buffy stared with obvious appreciation at his naked chest.

She could see the marks she had made with her nails earlier and she reached out a shaking hand and traced their path.  Spike trembled at the touch, hissing slightly in hunger but holding himself back.  He wanted her to explore his body; he sure as hell planned to explore hers.

Wrapping her fingers into the belt loops at his waist, she yanked him forward and kissed his chest.  God, he was beautiful.  She'd never known a man could look like that, the muscles, so tight - so hard.  Quivering in anticipation, she ran her tongue down one long scratch, pausing to take one of his nipples in her mouth and biting on it gently.

He felt her teeth and almost came.  Fisting a hand in her hair, he yanked her away from his chest and savaged her mouth before withdrawing just enough to rest his forehead on hers.  He whispered hoarsely to her.  "Let me see you, Buffy.  Let me watch you.  Strip for me, luv.  Please?"

She nodded, moving his head with hers, and leaned back.  His eyes devoured her face until her hands caught and held his attention.  Keeping her eyes locked on his to gauge his reaction, Buffy slipped out of her jacket, pausing slightly as she gripped her teal scoop necked blouse and pulled it up over her head slowly, baring her flesh in total, with the exception of the wisp of a bra she wore.

Spike was transfixed.  He'd never seen anything so beautiful.  None of his wildest dreams could compare to the vision in front of him.  Without thinking, he reached up and tore the last barrier from her body; the lace of her bra didn't stand a chance against his need.

Dropping to his knees, he buried his face in her taut stomach, wrapping his muscled arms around her hips.  Her fingers twined in his hair, mussing it, pulling his face closer as his tongue darted out to trail a long, wet trail up the valley between her breasts before moving to suckle on first one, then both of her nipples.

Her body was burning, feverish and hot.  A low moan slipped past her lips when he bit down gently, teasing the sensitive bud with blunt teeth.  She couldn't stand it.  This was the sweetest torture and she was lost to the sensations.  Liquid heat pooled between her legs.  She wanted him inside her.  Only he could quench the fire with his coolness.

She pulled his head back by his hair and he looked at her in half-lidded surprise. 

"No more," she whispered, her voice husky with desire.  "Please.  I need you.  I want you inside me."

Spike's eyes flew wide and gleamed possessively, one lip curling in a hungry parody of a smile that sent delicious chills down her spine.  Spike pushed her back on top of his jacket and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her tight, cream-colored pants.  There was something sinfully erotic in undressing this girl, his forbidden fruit.

Even as he slipped the tight material over her hips and down her muscled thighs, he felt her tiny hands working to free him from his own confinements. 

Buffy couldn't hold back a gasp of surprise when his erection was revealed to her hungry gaze.  She sent his jeans pooling to the floor as he yanked her slacks the rest of the way off of her.  Her lace panties went the way of her matching lace bra, tearing easily under his grasp.

He slipped out of his boots and kicked his jeans away as Buffy sat up and stared.  She was rapt with wonder at the glorious specimen of masculinity in front of her.  He was beautiful.  It just wasn't human...but the thought was followed by the realization that, in fact, he wasn't.

Reaching out a shaky hand, she caressed the velvety smoothness of his staff, rubbing a thumb over the head before wrapping both hands around his length.  She gloried in his response to her touch, a deep keening sound of pure need that strummed through his chest.

Spike's arms slid down Buffy's back and he cupped her bottom in his large hands, lifting her slightly.  She wrapped her legs around his waist and he could feel the heat, sense her arousal, burning from her core.  She was wet and ready for him; he had the scent of her desire in his nose, in his head.  It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

"God, Buffy, I want you.  I love you so much.  You're burnin' me, luv.  Burnin' me."

Spike mumbled the endless litany over and over as he set her back down on the tomb, pulling his jacket under her so she would be cushioned from the cold cement.

She unwrapped her legs from his waist and spread herself for him.  "Inside me, now.  I want you inside me."

Spike stepped forward, guiding himself into her opening.  He would have to wait to taste her because he couldn't wait any longer to have her.  Moving slowly to allow her to accommodate him, he slipped into the hot, wet sheath.  She was so tight, so hot and tight.  Her muscles throbbed around his length and he had to pause.  He almost lost it before it had even begun.

Buffy's eyes were wide with wonder and triumph as she watched Spike's length sink into her.  "Oh, God."  Her head lolled back and she stared sightlessly at the ceiling, nothing left in her but feeling.  "So big, so good." 

The contrast of body temperature was amazing, and she felt her muscles spasm in pleasure as he entered her. 

Finally fully sheathed in her wet heat, Spike just pressed his hips into hers, unwilling and unable to move.  He had been ripped apart by their coupling and remade inch by torturous inch as he slid inside her.  He was so close to cumming that he doubted he could so much as quiver without losing it right then.  Every throbbing pulse of the muscles clenching his cock made him grind his teeth and the demon in him was fighting to push forward.

There was no way in hell he was going to allow that.  It may be his nature, and she may have accepted that part of him, but he wanted nothing but the man for their first time together.

"Look at me," the demand was low and guttural, and Buffy didn't hear it at first, so engrossed was she with the feelings he was giving her.  "Look at me, Buffy.  Watch me.  I want your eyes on me."

Unfocused, unseeing eyes met his electric blue gaze and the force of the contact sent her rocketing to the edge of a monstrous climax.  He saw how close she was and grinned.  They hadn't even started yet.

He withdrew his cock halfway and slowly moved back in, stroking into her over and over, starting a slow rhythm.  Buffy's eyes flew wide after only a handful of thrusts and she tried to bite her lip to hold back her cry of pleasure as she peaked for the first time.    

"No, Buffy," Spike reprimanded her gently, leaning in and tracing his tongue around her mouth as he sent her over the edge, "let it out.  Don't you dare hold back on me, woman."

Her nails raked down his chest as she screamed out her ecstasy.  His knees almost buckled at the powerful muscles punishing his cock in the most delicious ways.  The pleasure and the pain combined into a heady mix and he lost control completely.  Thrusting into her faster and faster, plunging into her body over and over, he was lost to the passion, and he could feel her second orgasm building in her.  He could feel everything in her.  It was a primitive and raw connection and it drove him wild.

With a shout of her name, he drove them both over the peak together.  Her hoarse cry of pleasure rang in his ears as he spilled himself into her. 

Spent, he slowed his thrusts to a stop and stared into her flushed and satiated face.  Her chest was heaving in deep gasps of air, and though he didn't need them physically, his rose and fell too.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Focused on the pleasures of the past, Buffy almost didn't notice the differences.  She was still in his arms, her head pressed against his chest with her eyes closed, remembering the first night of exquisite passion when she had given herself to the vampire holding her.

It wasn't until she inhaled deeply to breathe in his scent, a scent that had been missing from her life for over a week, that she noticed something odd.  It was another odor - pleasant and familiar - that cascaded over her senses and made her head swim, the very unique scent...of roses.

Opening her eyes, Buffy looked around in amazed wonder at the transformation Spike's old crypt had gone through.

Two huge, cast iron candelabras stood at least five feet tall on either side of the small room.  Each one reached out a pair of intricately woven arms holding a total of twelve lit candles that bathed the room in a soft glow.

Littering the floor, covering every square inch of surface that she could see, were rose petals, thousands and thousands of red rose petals.  They were everywhere. 

Buffy wiggled out of Spike's arms and dropped down to the ground lightly.  It was unbelievable.  The tomb was covered with a downy mattress and what looked to be silk sheets.

Walking around in dazed disbelief, she noticed the cart over in the corner, heavily laden with silver domed dishes.  As she waded through the sea of red at her feet, the scent of the flowers mixed with the delectable aromas of whatever was hidden underneath those domes.

She spun around, giddy as a child half her age, and smiled widely at the vampire that had done such an amazingly romantic thing.  It wasn't exactly in the realm of normally romantic, as they were standing in a crypt in the middle of a cemetery, but Buffy wasn't a normal woman.  And to her, it was the most loving thing anyone had ever done for her.

Spike hung back by the door, watching her obvious approval at the lengths he had gone to make the evening special for her.  His first of what would be many rewards came when she ran across to him and leapt into his arms, hugging him tightly and kissing him hard on the mouth.

"This is...wow...Spike, I can't believe...wow."  She hadn't the words to express just how moved, how utterly humbled she was at this gift.  All she could do is stare deeply into his smiling eyes and tell him what was in her heart. 

"Thank you.  For this," she waved her hand at the room, "and for ten years of love, laughter, squabbles, fights, bickering, and passion.  You are an amazing man and a sneaky but wonderful vampire.  Happy anniversary." 

He brushed a cool hand down one cheek and tilted his head to smile into her eyes with more tender emotion than should have ever been capable for a soulless vampire to feel.  "Do you remember, luv, what I told you that night?  After everything that happened - after we made love that first time - do you remember?"

Buffy leaned into his strong chest and nodded as his arms wrapped around her.  She smiled as she thought back ten years, bringing the scene to mind with ease.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They had made love most of the night, into the wee hours of the morning.  That first time had been about hunger and intensity, but what they had hurried through once, they savored and explored the rest.  And they still had been unable to get enough of each other.

As superhuman as they both were, however, endurance wanes and sleep tugged at them both.  They still hadn't discussed their earlier conversation.  Buffy still hadn't told him a single thing she knew she needed to tell him, about the choices she had made and the path she had decided to follow.  There just never seemed to be time as they devoured each other with their passion.

Finally spent, for the time being anyway, Buffy and Spike collapsed on the cement tomb.  He wrapped his duster around them as best he could and spooned her naked body into his before they had both drifted off into a satisfied sleep. 

It had been the first time in almost two years that Spike wasn't taunted by dreams of the Slayer he could never have.  Instead, he was given a gift of delicious dreams of the woman that he could.

But dreams fade and reality intrudes.  He had woken up the instant Buffy slipped quietly out of his embrace.  Lying still and silent, and at first unconcerned, he watched through partially opened eyes as she searched the floor for her discarded pants and slipped into them hastily.

As he watched her dress, his heart sunk down to his stomach.  He felt like she'd just shoved her stake into his chest - actually, he'd rather she had...it would have hurt less.

After everything that they had just shared he'd thought that he'd made progress with her, thought that she was finally his.  He had to fight back the tears that were threatening to embarrass him at the realization that, in her mind, all they shared was a few good shags.  It hadn't meant any more than that to her, it couldn't have, or she wouldn't be so quick to jump out of his bed and get ready to leave him.

But it had meant much more than that to him.  And he'd burn in the fiery pits of hell before he'd let her leave without knowing just what she was doing to him.  He had always been man enough to admit that he was love's bitch.    

He spoke out to her shadowed form.

"You walk out that door, pet, you better make sure I'm a pile of dust before you go."

Buffy jumped at the sarcastic drawl.  She was sure he'd been asleep.  Cursed vampires and their no breathing, no heartbeats. 

Instinct had her clutching her shirt to her naked breasts, she had already managed to both find and put on her pants, despite the darkness.  Her heart pounded in her chest as adrenaline flooded her veins.

"Damn it, Spike.  You scared me.  Don't do that!"  It took her a minute for his words to sink in and when they did, she gasped in surprise.  How could he think...

Of course he would.  She hadn't told him anything that would make think otherwise.  Shit.  He thought she was sneaking off into the night.

Sighing at the misunderstanding, Buffy dropped her arms from her chest and walked over to the side of the tomb.  Spike pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge, watching her walk towards him.

Buffy met his glowing eyes, melting at the ever-present heat that was in them for her.  She leaned in and gave the surprised but wary vampire a gentle kiss.

"I was just cold, Spike.  I'm not going anywhere.  I tried not to wake you, I'm sorry.  I was just putting on my clothes so you wouldn't wake up to a Buffy-sicle.  I was coming back to bed."

Spike didn't know what to say.  If he could have blushed he would have.  "Oh.  Right then.  Well..."

Buffy pressed a finger against his lips to stop his flustered words.  She hopped up next to him and stared into the dark room.  It was time.

"I could have killed you."  The memory of just how close she had come to staking him tonight tore at her painfully.  It choked her, suffocating her.

She felt more than saw his nod.

"Yeah.  I know.  Nearly bloody did."

"Why, Spike?  Why did you do it?  There had to be some other way."

The vampire chuckled ruefully.  "What was I gonna do, luv?  Knock on your door?  Tell you what, exactly?  'Oh, by the way, I can kill you now.  We're still friends, though, right?'  Don't work like that, Buffy.  Not for us.  We're brawlers.  It's what we do and who we are.  You had to see for yourself that I wasn't what you thought I was...what you wanted me to be."

"Yeah, but Spike...that was a big risk to take."

"You're a tough nut, Buffy, and the toughest nuts need the strongest fists to crack 'em open.  That's just the way of the world.  I did what I needed to do, it was the only way I could get through to you."

She didn't realize it then, but his words would actually shape her career.  After she got her degree and set up a practice, it had been those words that had determined how she dealt with her troubled teens, tough nuts, all of them.

At the time though, she just stared down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap.  "You were right, Spike.  About Angel, about me.  You were right about everything.  I tried to tell you before we...well, before...but you didn't want to talk so I...we...and it felt so good...and I wanted you so much..."

She was deathly afraid she was screwing this up royally.  She knew she wasn't making a whole lot of sense.  Hopping down from the tomb, she walked over to the small table next to his god awful armchair and lit the candles with the lighter that he'd left there earlier.

Spike just watched silently as the girl he loved - the topless girl he loved - set the candles burning before turning and walking back to him.  He wondered if she realized just how delectable she looked, perky breasts bouncing gently with each step.

He didn't say a word when she stood between his dangling legs, or when she covered his hands with her own, or when she stared up at him with those huge, beautiful eyes of hers.

"Spike," she said, serious and intense - and scared witless, "you've heard me tell you I want you.  You've heard me admit that I need you."  She broke his gaze for a second before digging deep and pulling forth a grain of courage.  She speared him with her eyes.  "But what I haven't told you yet...what I need you to hear me say is...I love you."

Spike was thunderstruck.  She just told him she loved him.  She admitted it.  And suddenly, the ragged truth bit into him, freeing him from a prison he hadn't even been aware he had been in.  He realized that knowing something and hearing it proclaimed out loud were two very different things.  Buffy loved him.  She really loved him.

He never broke her gaze; he reached out slowly and lifted her off her feet, purpose in his every move.  Spike set her down on his naked lap and turned her around so she was facing him.  Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist to accommodate him.  He rested his forehead against hers, choked up at her honest admission.

"I love you, Buffy.  I.  Love.  You.  You're my light, pet.  My sunlight.  Neither one of us is perfect, that's right enough I expect...but somehow, through some soddin' twist of fate, we're bloody perfect together.  I'm through questionin' it.  Through denyin' it.  It just is.  Figure it'll never be pretty, but it'll always be real.  I can guarantee one thing, though."

Spike pulled back and stared hard into her tawny eyes.  "This is for keeps, woman.  And I'll always be there, watchin' your back.  Know how you are with the whole girl power bit, you're just gonna have to deal with it.  I'm yours, Buffy, always.  But know this...you're mine.  I'd die for you.  I live for you."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ten years and still that memory sent shivers through her body at the intensity and honesty of the pledge.  Buffy clung to Spike, reliving every minute they had spent in this crypt that night.  She didn't know why...she didn't dare ask how...but she had been given a gift. 

The gift was a man that understood her, that loved her at her best and her worst, that would always be there.  Not trying to protect her out of some misguided sense of male ego, but fighting beside her as he'd promised, watching her back, making sure she didn't end up with more on her plate than she could handle alone. 

For ten years she had never been alone.

And looking back over the years, it was their bond that kept them both alive.

They weren't a normal couple.  They would never be married in the classic sense, never have children, never stop fighting the forces of darkness that rose up and struck out against the world.  And they were both okay with that. 

One was long lived, if not immortal, the other was all too mortal.  Their time was slated to be brief.  Even if Buffy lived to old age, their time together would still be too brief for Spike.

But he loved her.  She loved him.  And life comes with no guarantees. 

Just because Buffy had a sacred duty that classified as tops in the 'high risk' job field didn't mean she couldn't live a long, healthy life...or die next week.  Her life was no more set in stone than the average human that could step out into the street tomorrow and get squished by a bus.

That's what makes life interesting and so very precious...the not knowing.

For ten years Spike had fulfilled his promise to his lady.  He had fought her, fought beside her, trained her, sparred with her both physically and verbally, kept her on her toes, watched her back.  It had been a bloody good time.

For ten years he had been happy.  They both had.  And tomorrow was another day.

Looking around the crypt that he had decked out for their anniversary, Spike smiled.  Who would have thought that a vampire and a Slayer could be so good together for so long.  Besides him, that is.  Buffy may have needed some convincing originally, but she'd come around, finally, thanks to the risks he had taken that night.  And their life together had been a wild ride - a roller coaster - big on the thrills and chills.

Back to back they fought together, face to face they loved together.  Side by side they lived together.

Spike leaned his head down and kissed Buffy with a passion and possession that hadn't waned the smallest fraction over time, before pulling back slightly to meet her eyes.  "I love you, Summers."

She grinned, face flushed at the searing kiss.  "Love you too, you bleached blonde fiend."

~ Fin ~

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