DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine. I just borrowed them over the summer to amuse myself.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is canon to the end of Season 6 and is the sequel to The Windows of His Soul. (The 2 story series contains spoilers/references to episodes throughout season 1-6, with an emphasis on season 5/6 Buffy/Spike scenes --- so that means all the wonderful and terrible things that have happened in the lives of our TV friends is fair game). With that said.
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WITH THIS RING
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Prologue: LOVE
He sat alone on the steps of the Summers' back porch, his hands plunged deep in the pockets of his duster. There was a chill in the early autumn night air that caused him to shiver a little. For the first time since he'd acquired the long black leather coat, (having taken it from the still warm body of the New York City Slayer he'd killed decades earlier), he was wearing it to keep warm.
The cold had never bothered him before. He was a vampire; undead. His body adjusted to the temperature without him really noticing. Back then, he wore the duster as a symbol of his darkness, his status as the "Big Bad", the killer of Slayers.
Things were different now; Spike was different. In the late spring, he'd left, gone to Africa and returned to Sunnydale months later in the hopes of making amends for past wrongs committed there --- or at least those made against the woman he loved. He'd come home a changed man --- an actual living breathing man. A man who felt the cold. A man who felt the pain of loss, remorse for old sins, loneliness. but who also felt the inner warmth of love.
Buffy loved him. She'd told him so, and shown him. Earlier that evening, Spike and Buffy had made love for the first time. (Sure, there was no forgetting all the amazing sex of the previous winter but this was tender passionate heartfelt love; the joining not only of bodies, but hearts and minds, and souls.)
Sitting on the step, Spike was reflecting on his 'life' as a vampire particularly in recent years. How hard it was for him to believe the character he'd been only decades earlier was the same guy who'd risked his own life for that of a Slayer, her kid sis' and a gang of misfits. What an influence Buffy had had on his life.
He'd shared his life with women before, Drusilla mainly. She had long been his "dark princess". He'd spent the better part of the last century and more, trying to win her heart, looking after her, lavishing her with gifts, trying to step out of the shadow cast by her sire. But that shadow was long, and time and time again, he'd been blocked by it. Even after Spike had given up on Dru and his affections had turned to another, Angel still overshadowed him. Angel was Buffy's first real love, and as many the romantic will attest, you never forget your first love.
"Bollocks!" he growled bitterly into the night.
Fumbling in his pocket, Spike retrieved a tiny velvet drawstring purse from which he fished out a small twisted golden band with three brilliant olive green stones atop it: his mother's ring. She'd given it to him after his father died, making him the head of the household. Her hope was that it might encourage the shy young man to focus his efforts with earnest to finding a woman with whom to make a home and family. William's mother had always had great hopes for her son's happiness, though she'd also been well aware that he felt more deeply than most young men. As a result, she feared his emotions would eventually get the better of him and of course, they had. It was the hopelessness of rejection that led William in tears to a dim alley one night more than one hundred years ago --- the night he met with a raven-haired stranger and his own death.
What would his mother have said if she'd been told that her ring would travel around the world, crossing five continents and spanning three centuries before he found someone worthy to wear it?
------- o -------
Buffy joined him on the step, dressed in a pair of sweats and his black silk shirt, unbuttoned, but wrapped and tied at her waist. In the moonlight, her skin seemed to glow. Wisps of her tawny hair danced on the gentle breeze. So beautiful, he thought. He'd found her attractive since the moment he'd first seen her dancing at the Bronze years earlier. Back then, her physical allure would only make the "dance" to her death more entertaining for Spike. Though his feelings for her had long since changed, it was only recently --- since his return from Africa and the night they'd rekindled their relationship --- that he felt allowed to admire her beauty openly.
Spike wasn't sure that the time was right; he'd only been back in Sunnydale a few days. But they'd been a marvellous few days. Coming home (and "home" really was how he'd come to think of Sunnydale) was more wonderful than he'd ever imagined. Buffy had forgiven him for his transgressions of that past spring in her bathroom. She'd come to realize that she loved him, and actually admitted so not only to herself but also to him. She'd taken care of him, and he of her. She'd brought him to stay in her home.
"You make me feel whole. I want to be with you, by your side, for the rest of my life..." he said. "Will you marry me?"
Buffy sat stunned looking into Spike's pleading eyes. She'd long ago given up on the dream of ever having a "normal" life with a husband who loved her. Certainly, the thought of Spike ever being that man hadn't occurred to her --- Hello-o?? Vampire. But here, now, on the back porch of her house where they'd spent so many nights talking, this striking (if not natural) blond man with penetrating azure eyes was asking her to be with him, to be his wife.
The night had already been such a dream to her: candles, soft music, exchange of affectionate words, fulfilling lovemaking, falling asleep in the arms of the man she loved. She'd woken up to discover, it wasn't a dream and that wasn't going to be the end of it.
He'd given her the ring before asking for her hand. Now she was placing it back in his. "Spike, I-" Buffy hesitated. "I don't know what to say; this really is a surprise. I never thought I'd live to see the day that someone would propose to me."
"And you never expected that someone to be me." With a hint of disappointment showing through his eyes, he smiled. Throwing up his hands, Spike leapt to his feet then continued, "Sod it. S'all right, luv; no need t'explain. Like I said, still want you t'ave the ring."
Always thought it was funny how whenever he gets upset his accent gets thicker. Buffy smiled and shook her head. "No, no. Spike, listen to me. I'm not saying 'no'. I'm just saying that I'm surprised."
Spike rolled his eyes up as if re-reading the line she'd just delivered on some overhead teleprompter. "If you're not sayin' 'no'..." He trailed off.
"I might just be saying 'yes'. Yes Spike, I will marry you." She leaned in to embrace him and he met her with all the joy in him spilling out in laughter and tears. With her right arm still around him, Buffy eased back holding her left hand to him, fingers splayed.
As Spike slipped the ring on her finger, they heard Dawn stomping down the hall to the kitchen.
"Buffy? Are you home?"
"Out here," she called in reply to her younger sister. "Come outside." She pulled away from Spike.
"Again! Again she's backin' off," he muttered under his breath. I thought we were past this. The sting of rejection pierced his heart; Buffy still didn't want anyone to know what was going on between them.
Or so Spike thought.
"What is it?" Dawn asked as she came to the door. "Hey Spike."
"Nibblet."
He was barely able to get the greeting out when Buffy launched into the conversation. "Dawn, it's so amazing. Unbelievable, really. Spike just asked me to marry him. Can you believe it?"
Before he knew what was happening, he was caught in the middle of one of those "soggy group hugs" he used to mock. Tonight was different. He was happy to be crushed between the two women he loved: the one who had just agreed to become his wife and the other whom he loved as his own sister.