Disclaimer: All characters owned by Joss Whedon and Mutunt Enemy. I'm just playing in Joss's playground.

Chapter One: The Night Before

Buffy felt the sun hit her naked back. Ordinarily, she would indulge in the warmth and let the sleep caress her again. But she opened her eyes and saw that nothing would ever be ordinary again. Things were very different.

Mind-bogglingly, kid-in-candy-store different.

But her eyes had just now caught up with what the nerve endings told her. She was resting her head comfortably and directly on another head. With arms and limbs very much enfolded around each other's unclothed persons. And this particular individual's skin and countenance gleamed. Cheekbones chiseled. Hair bleached for so long that to find it as anything but would set off all sorts of warning signals. Like when she first saw him in that basement after what he…

Her lip quivered and her eyes glistened.

…After what he did for her.

So bright an angel had he become. If God would have welcomed it, he could have taken Lucifer's place as the brightest of them. Surely he had done the devil one better. Humbly acting as her lieutenant in this war that would commence in a few short hours. But more importantly giving of himself, his love, his devotion. All for her. Just for her.

She didn't deserve it. She didn't understand it. But she welcomed it. And in these last nights she did her best, in her own limited, closed-off way, to share it. To give back. It was clumsy. But somehow or other they got it right when they needed to.

But her angel….her Champion needed the dark to survive. The sun would burn him. Kill him.

She gingery pulled the blanket over his head, got out of bed, and pulled the blinds shut to the basement window.

She stood in naked glory, unashamed, staring at the vampire who sought a soul for her. The one she was not afraid to call her lover.

Though just as it was with him so many times in their past at each other's throats, it took the words of an enemy in the First to realize it.

Yes. Spike is her lover.

With each step she flashed back to last night.

She closed the distance between them and sank into him, holding onto him like the lifeline he had become. Unacknowledged before, unappreciated, yet still just being there for her. Slowly, tentatively his arms enveloped her, gently stroking her back in comforting glides. She buried her face in his chest and wished for time to just stop. Stop and let the moment be theirs to live for an eternity.

No more reason to hide behind insecurities and doubts. Pain. None of that mattered. In this moment they could elevate this…whatever they had into something more. She couldn't articulate what it was they shared. She could afterwards.

Then she stepped back and kissed his scar, his head, his cheeks, and finally brought her lips questing to his mouth. He flinched back for a second, but Buffy kept with it, meeting his eyes. Smiling softly and intimately like that moment in the caves. When she had rescued him. She had so much to make up for. That moment was the start.

But now it was time. Before endgame came and they had to suffer through one more hell, tonight they could make their heaven.

"It's okay. Let me be with you tonight," she whispered.

Something in the vampire broke. All the hesitation disappeared and his lips met with hers. So softly. So reverently. Her body responded, aching to fill the physical need that awakened itself with renewed vigor. Followed by a heart that beat with resplendent joy after long dormant disconnection.

Her lips worshipped him. Each peck a prayer for his safety and thanks for his unquenchable love. Spike cradled her, their foreheads leaning together. She laughed liquid tears and Spike smiled gently with his own goofy chuckling. Then sweeping propriety aside, her vampire lover hoisted her up in his arms, twirled her around, and carried her laughing to the cot.

She should have kicked Faith out of her room.

He laid her down and just like in the crypt when Riley found out, she took her time undressing him, treating him with respect. Spike did the same, slowly unbuttoning her blouse while he trailed kisses down her torso, undoing her bra. She shook herself out of it and he laid it to the side. Then allowing his greed to surface buried his face into her breasts drinking of the sweet ambrosia, licking and sucking the nubs. Buffy moaned in pleasure and allowed her hands to drift to his jeans feeling his purchase. She unbuttoned his jeans and he knelt up and out of bed temporarily to shove them down. Then returned the favor to her own pants. She anxiously stripped herself of those as well.

Finally, they were completely unadorned. In the past. In their own shortcomings. All that mattered was right now.

But for the moment before they engaged in overdue love-making, they just gazed at each other. So similar, yet very different from that first time. His eyes, of course, soul or no soul, have not changed. Still as adoring and overwhelmed as ever. So much of him the man she never let herself know until this year. It didn't have to be that way. For it to be this hard.

Or maybe it did.

Buffy's eyes though swam in his azure pools. She was distant then, defiant in her actions. Literally her greatest "Fuck You!" But now there is nothing but humble awe and joy. She stares into him, boring into his soul. No. No, he's letting her in. He's opening himself up now in ways she never thought he could.

They both are.

But eventually, the need itself calls for action and they engage. They unite. Meeting in the middle from their volcanic and volatile farce of a relationship last year they begin anew here. She meets him at his point and they become as one being, connected through their passion. Their need.

Dare Buffy say it, their love.

But she can't. Not yet.

And suddenly all that has gone on before becomes dignified. It becomes not just singular tumors that taint the body and soul of this thing they have fought hard to save. But necessary steps taken toward this moment. It was all worth it. The pain. The agony. All led to this earned moment between them.

And she doesn't waste it. She implores him with her eyes to not break the contact. He rests his head against hers and allows his involuntary gasps to increase. She meets his pace and gives just as much, her arms and hands clinging to his upper arms. Her breath betrays effort given, energy spent. But it's symbiotic now. They give and take equally. Just like that old Beatles song that he sang to her that one night…when she acted annoyed with it.

One last time. One last exertion, a moan and gasp. And then they breathe as one on the release. He cannot speak. And she cannot even move her mouth to form words. It hangs open taking in gulps of oxygen and expending air. Spike mouths "oh, God!" he closes his eyes and Buffy fears that he's broken the connection. But his mouth engulfs hers and she allows the chaste kiss to become deeper. Suddenly this sacred, special bond increases in secret rapture. The melding of the souls is joined in with the flesh. Now all that cries out is physical want and need. Their mouths duel and bite. Teasing. She throws her head back and cradles his as he trails lusty kisses down her neck, nipping and biting, She grits her teeth. Holds tight for leverage. The bedsprings bounce in wanton rhythm. She sings his name in intimate tones. Their own private arias. Their own beautiful music.

Again their mouths meet and the dance goes on the whole night. Uninterrupted. And blissful. And always they stare at each other. Pondering. Questing. Adoring. When it ends they hold each other never losing contact. Finally their eyes lose the battle. But she feels the comfort of arms blanketing her from the uncertainty of the following day. While she holds his beautiful form in her own comforting arms. And they find their peace and rest together.

Like heaven.