*A/N -Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. Here is the final installment of Hers (the title may be misleading, but this is still a Spuffy story). This is actually the first part I wrote in this trilogy. I had stayed up until about 6 in the morning and binged the last 5 or so episodes of the series. I can honestly say that I have never bawled that hard in my entire life and I am a full-blown baby (#NoShame) lol. I had trouble sleeping that morning, so I woke up after less than 4 hours of sleep and wrote 90% of this on my phone memo pad. It is very important that anyone who reads this knows that it completely ignores canon, vis-a-vis Spike being brought back in the final season of Angel and/or the comic book continuation (which was mainly because I didn't know about either at the time of writing it). I just wanted to give a finished bittersweet ending to my OTP. As always, please R&R. Thank you so much. - Nikki

The Angel in Her Dream

For a month after the cataclysmic and apocalyptic end of Sunnydale, Buffy found herself in tears every night before she went to sleep. She was haunted, not by anything she could exorcise, but simply by the feeling in that final moment. Her heart broke at the notion that Spike didn't believe she loved him. After everything they had been through, all that had transpired between them in the last few months, her heart had softened to him in a way she hadn't quite allowed before. It was those last 3 nights when he held her as she slept and she was safe that the change between them had finally taken a name. That first night when he looked into her eyes and played with her hair, protectively embracing her as she started to drift off, that was when she started to realize it was love, and Spike had been right, it was terrifying.

In that second he sacrificed his life for the world, she told him that she loved him and she did, in a way that doomed them both. Did he really believe that she had said it as pity, guilt, a reward? It hurt too much to think that he didn't believe her, or that he couldn't. So every night, after everyone had went to sleep, she would lay there in bed, tucked in the fetal position, comforted by her own compactness – a remnant of the ease shared before birth – and she would cry, saying the only thing that mattered anymore, until it lost all meaning. "I meant it. I love you. I miss you." And every night she was met with excruciating silence instead of a clever, thickly British retort.

She kept her brave face on in the daytime. Buffy was no stranger to masking her pain, but this time, the hurt was stronger, like a piercing dagger angled directly at her heart, pushing and prodding at the organ, only to pull back before finishing the job, leaving her in a constant state of agony.

For all the strength in the world, Buffy couldn't deny that her heart was broken and although she didn't know, her pain was evident to anyone who looked hard enough to find it. It mostly manifested itself in the dark circles under her eyes and the bagginess of her lids as she swapped sleep every night for tears. After that month, she had almost literally cried herself to dehydration. A rogue thought would run in her head over and over. 'Who could've expected that the fearsome vampire she met five years before would mean this much to her? Who could've known that when she was positive this vamp wouldn't stop until he claimed himself the life of a third Slayer, that losing him would feel like a hole in her heart? Who could've guessed that when she had met Spike with an instinct of kill or be killed, that it was his absence that would destroy her?'

As that first month of mourning came to pass, she held on tight to the things that mattered most in her life: her sister, her friends and the girls. She was their strength and knew that even though her grief only overtook her at night, she had to be tougher, harder, for them. It proved a challenge until one night; a dream pulled her under the thick veil of slumber. It smelled of significance, the same way her prophetic dreams used to, so she put her pain on the back burner and let her resistance fade away to what she clearly needed to know.

The haze of her dream shrouded her in creamy ivory light and for a moment, the ache was gone and a familiarity had filled her soul, as if she had been there before. Silence echoed all around and filled her everything when she saw Spike, William the Bloody, bathed in light, the way she had only seen him wear sunshine twice before, once when he harnessed the power of the Gem of Amara in her first year of college and was hell bent on killing her and the second time when he was standing in the Hellmouth, dying for the world. His face was filled with an incandescent peace. She looked down and breathed, trying to reign in what seeing him was doing to her heart. When she looked back up, he was watching her fondly, his head tilted and his eyes soft. "You were right, luv. No pain, no worry, no fear." He smiled and spoke humoredly. "It's like being cocooned in sweet 'lil fuzzies. I can see why you were so fond of it up here."

Buffy froze, unable to trust herself to speak or to understand what he was saying. After a moment of silence, she was finally able to mutter. "How-?"

"Look, Slayer, turns out you're not the only one allowed up here. Although, I guess you could say I smuggled myself in." He winked. "Well, not completely, but the 'Big Bad's got a reputation to maintain, know what I mean?" She simply nodded, a smile tugging at her lips as his voice filled her with a peace she hadn't known in the month since she had last slept in his arms.

"Although, I guess if I made it up here, I don't really get to be the 'Big Bad' anymore." He laughed. "Was I ever, though? Successfully, I mean?" Buffy laughed and shook her head. "Well, according to the 'Big Good' here, voluntarily searching out one's soul and saving the world is a good way to cut into one's moral debt."

She beheld him in his serenity. He noticed her taking in in his ethereal and somehow completely unaltered presence. "Took a lot of negotiations, but they let me keep my duster." He spun once slowly. "Though, I'm not glad for the bling." He touched the necklace. "Quite the volatile little trinket you gave me, luv, but we both knew that."

Buffy had tried to hold it in, but the sight of him all fine was too much and she began to cry. "Whoa, Summers." He approached her slow and cautiously. His hand ghosted over her cheek, unable to touch her, but somehow able to wipe the tear from her face. "It's okay, luv. No tears in the big house; Rule Number 1. You don't want to get me in trouble do you? I'm on probation." She smiled at that as another tear fell when she shook her head. "Right, because we have to pretend to be okay, until we are." His eyes grew tender as he continued. "You know, it really is okay. Things often happen the way they're supposed to and hey, can't be so bad if I get to be a savior of mankind." He leaned in with a whisper. "Although, just between the two of us, it was more about being the savior for you, mankind was kind of like a bonus. You know, a 7 billion for one 1 type of deal. With those odds, it's too bad I'm not winning some poor sucker's lunch money at a blackjack table." She laughed again as another tear quietly fell.

"It was worth it." He guessed and Buffy forced herself to nod in reply. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me. I already know."

She breathed slowly, trying to find the words. "So, now what?"

"The fun part: living." She could feel the whisper of a touch as his hand nearly caressed her hair.

"Define fun." The bitterness in her voice tugged at her truth. With or without Spike, life had rarely been fun for her; it was exhausting.

"The pain that you feel, only can heal by living."

"Are you going to burst out in song?" She teased and was rewarded with a laugh.

"Hey, I'll repurpose some lyrics to serve my point if need be and it's as true now as it was then. One of us is living." His hand dropped from her periphery. "I got my turn when I fell for you. Now it's yours and you better enjoy it." He grinned. "Live for the both of us." She hesitantly nodded. "I mean it, Buffy. I didn't die so you could brood for the rest of your life."

"So I have to go on living." She sang along to the tune, a grin beaming across her face.

"You catch on quick, Slayer."

"And you?"

"I got a pretty okay set up here." He tilted his head. "Comfy."

"What'll you do?"

"Watch some Passion re-runs with a friend." He shrugged. Buffy wanted to ask, but wasn't sure she could handle the answer. "You know, just wait."

"Wait?"

"Yeah, this time I've really got forever." She started to tear up again, resorting to another nod, afraid that speaking might make her outright cry. "Say, did you fancy the end of Titanic?" He asked, sweetly omniscient. She nodded vigorously as the tears began to spill over.

"I'm in no hurry, luv." He smiled and she could see the tears filling his eyes. "Take your time." Spike exhaled.

"Yeah." Within a second, the hollow quiet felt disturbed and Buffy felt herself being pulled away. She knew there was something else tearing at her heart and throat at the same time. "Wait!" She called as the distance grew between them. "You knew I meant it, right? You know I mean it, don't you?" She bellowed in the fading warmth and enveloping air.

Spike smiled sinfully as if to retort playfully, but saw the desperation ravaging her eyes. He nodded, solemn, but his blue orbs were almost aglow with tenderness and affection. "I wanted to." He smiled the sweetest expression he had ever worn. "Now I do, luv. Thank you."

Buffy blinked and the honeyed air was stolen from her lungs as the world around was ripped from beneath her feet in the same second she woke up in her bed. She sat up, her heart still pounding and she cried tears of happiness for the first time in longer than she could remember. She cried for an hour and sighed once the sweet sobs shuddered out of her.

For a long time, Buffy had been able to tell the difference between a dream and a vision and this was clearly the latter. It was okay, and he was okay and they still had time, not yet, but eventually. She wiped away her final tear and laughed a hearty giggle as a thought popped into her head.

Bathed in a heavenly glow, surrounded by pale air and lyrical peace, he looked like an angel and boy, how he would hate to hear it. But someday he would, someday she would tell him and that was enough. The pain faded and she repeated that it was now her turn and she was ready.

/

When Buffy returned, a few years had passed, not as many as she would've originally guessed, but enough to know that she wasn't fighting for a fourth chance back. She probably looked no different than when her vision had brought her here, but she wasn't complaining. Years as the Slayer, then downgraded to a Slayer, left her exhausted and not too heartbroken for her permanent sabbatical from living on borrowed time. Sure, she would miss the people she had left behind, but they were as safe as they would ever be and she had done her job to its completion 3 different times now. There was nothing wrong with death, for her it was just the big rest and this time, she knew who she was coming back to.

She heard his voice before she saw him. The cadence of his accent was thickened by the hollow echo in the atmosphere. "Tell me all about it." She turned to see him looking at her, head tilted, displaying a grin of arrogance and affection with eyes like cobalt velvet. His hand reached out and suddenly he was touching her again, his unforgettable fingers dancing through her hair. "How, I've missed you, luv."

The End