*A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. This is part 2 of Hers. I wanted to keep this trilogy separated as different stories because although I like to think of them as a continual story, they can be read on their own, (also parts 1 & 2 are more of the headcanon variety, while part 3 is a complete deviation from the continuation of the series and characters, i.e. Angel or the comic Season 8 and beyond.) So here is part 2. This takes place during the series finale (S7E22), the night before the Scooby Gang, Spike, Faith, Principle Wood and the Potential Slayers head to Sunnydale High for the final battle against the first. As always, please R&R. I sincerely appreciate it. Thanks - Nikki

The Champion in Her Heart

Buffy stood on the porch leaning against a wooden beam, remarking in the foreboding stillness of the night. Of all the near-apocalypses she had faced before, this was the one that filled her with indescribable dread. She could taste it in the air, an absolute certainty that everything was about to change. Her plan was undoubtedly risky, but just enough so that it might actually work. They would win, they had to, but that wasn't what was plaguing her mind. She could hear Spike's voice in her head. 'There are always casualties in war.' What would they lose? Who would they lose?

The thought terrified her. There were so many people she couldn't stand to have taken from her, but one face filled her head first and made it almost impossible to breathe. Her feet pulled her in the direction of comfort before she could second guess her need.

Spike looked up from the necklace to see Buffy enter the basement. He stood, thrown off by her demeanor. Everything enveloping her was quiet, even her expression. Something told him she was scared, the only side of Buffy he wasn't equipped to handle, the side of her he had no experience with. He almost accused her of being The First come to torment his sanity, until she touched a wooden beam. She glanced around the concrete room as if it was her first time seeing it.

She examined the punching bag and noticed that his crude depiction of Angel was still taped to it. As she pulled it off and tossed it on the table, she released an anxious laugh. The sound was foreign to Spike and filled him with distress. Buffy was afraid and he didn't know how to fix that or if he even could. If it was possible to wish away her pain and trepidations, he would have done so a long time before. "Buffy?"

She finally looked up at him. "I'm sorry." She shook her head, laughing at herself, more familiar this time. "I'm just … nervous." She tried to play it off, but Spike had heard the strain in the sound and knew better; he tried to pretend it was okay, for her.

"So, do I get a sleepover buddy again?" He tried to lighten the palpable tension with humor in his voice. "I get your company 3 nights in a row? I'm a lucky sod, aren't I?" Even though Buffy could detect playful sarcasm in his voice, she saw the genuine content in his expression.

"Actually," she paused, unsure of how to continue, to say what she wanted. For that brief second she saw his eyes tighten as if he was embarrassed by his own assumption. She shook her head to re-assure him and slowly approached. She sat on his bed and gestured for him to join her.

Hesitantly, he sat down beside her. She turned her body to face him and he followed suit. "I have something to ask you and I know I don't have the right to even ask, but it's like no matter how sure I am that we'll win tomorrow, – and I'm only sure that we'll win because I have to be sure – I could be wrong. I've been wrong before; and say we do win, that doesn't mean we're getting a 'Disney win', where all the good guys live and triumph completely over evil. I could lose Dawn tomorrow, or Willow or Xander or-" she met Spike's eyes and gulped, speaking slower now. "You. That's all I can think about. If we win tomorrow, what's the price for our victory? I could die again-"

Spike's jaw tensed and he grabbed her hand placing it on his cheek. "That's not going to happen."

"It might." She looked from her hand on his face to his eyes. "What then?" He let go, but Buffy left her hand on his cheek.

"Okay, don't take this the wrong way, luv, but I'm going to need you to start making sense if you want me to follow." He smiled good-naturedly. "And for you to stop rambling."

"Tomorrow is looming overhead and I'm afraid and you're the only one I can let myself be afraid with. Everything changes tomorrow, one way or another, but right now, tonight there is peace and I don't want it to end. I want tonight to stretch and last while everything is still beautiful and everyone is still alive. And I swear this made a lot more sense in my head and-"

"Buffy?" He offered.

"Can you make the night last?" She blurted, before taking a deep breath. "With me?"

Spike looked back at her wide-eyed and confused, not sure he understood. She moved her hand from his face and touched his chest, her hand resting over his silent heart.

He scooted back. "Buffy." He spoke slowly and cautiously. "Think about what you're asking." His eyes were pained with shame. "After everything…"

"Spike," She sighed. "I've been the Slayer for more than seven years and in all that time, this was all I could be, day after day, night after night. The only break I ever got was when I was dead." His jaw tensed again. "Sorry, not a funny joke." She exhaled. "Look, the fate of the world rests on all of us tomorrow. Can't we please just be a man and a woman tonight?" She tried not to convey just how much she wished he would say yes. Everything was complicated enough without adding confessions to the mix. "I just want to feel that tonight, just once, with you." Buffy couldn't believe the words stampeding out of her mouth. The truth was that she wanted to feel his unfathomable and depthless love for her, once more to give her hope, to give her strength.

The silence stretched between them until she finally looked away. "I'm sorry, I knew I shouldn't have asked, I just-" She made an attempt to move, but he stopped her by gently placing his hand on top of hers.

"It's not that I don't want-" He cut himself off and tried again. "I just want to know that you are sure."

"I am." She said softly.

Spike nodded and kneeled before the bed. He grabbed her wrists and placed a kiss on the back of both of her hands. She sat in awe, spellbound by each and every gentle movement that caressed her from the inside out. He took off her shoes and helped her slide out of her slacks.

Buffy wasn't prepared for the bombarding emotion she was feeling, simply looking at the tight knit of his brow as his palms tenderly rested on the tops of her thighs. For a brief second, he rested his head on her lap. Once he lifted his head, he moved each hand and placed a kiss on both legs, moving so slow that for a moment, Buffy thought he was powerful enough to succeed in making the night actually last forever.

Cautious couldn't begin to describe his every move. He held her and looked at her like he was waiting for it to happen, for her to remember in a second what he had done to her, how he had hurt her and how trusting him would be a mistake. No apology could lumber from his mouth, that wasn't better perfected by his touch.

The truth was, Buffy had long forgiven him. Even when it was easy to hate him, she knew it wasn't Spike who hurt her, not the real Spike. It was the demon inside, looking to tarnish and ruin whatever made him feel. That evil imbedded in him sought to destroy the little humanity he had, his love for her. It had taken her months to understand that night, how he had turned on a dime and became this man, this creature that she couldn't even recognize. How he looked at her after she kicked him into the wall. His eyes wide and shocked as if waking up from a blackout, as if seeing a monster inside he tried to convince himself wasn't there. That night he had seen the monster, felt it possess him and attack her and he left as soon as the wind could carry him, so he could exorcise the demon, so he could free himself, so he could repent the monster's destruction. A monster that she knew was gone forever. He had done it for her, knowing she might never forgive him, might never look on him with anything but abhorrence, disgust and fear. He still chose to be better, when a real monster would've given up, a real monster wouldn't have seen the point. She understood that now, even if he couldn't let himself say it.

Spike's restrained expression made Buffy that much more sure that she could trust him. She reached out, grabbing the hem of his black shirt, slowly pulling it over his head. Once he was free of the fabric, he looked back up to her, gratefulness in his eyes that paralyzed her heart; she reached out to touch the self-inflicted healing scars over his own. He gingerly helped her pull off her shirt. His pants came off next quicker than her clothes. He came back to a kneeling position, pulling her into an embrace. She could tell her hair was tickling his face, but he held her a little tighter, taking in her scent and softness. He pressed a ghost of a kiss on the warm skin where her shoulder met with her neck. His hands flitted across her abdomen, each touch a promise of more, but still refraining from any pressure. They then came to rest on the small of her back, before his left index and middle fingers glided slowly up the notches of her spine. They rested on the lace fabric of her brazier, moving unrushed to unclip the tether, much slower than what she knew him capable of.

Once the clasp was free, he kissed the edge of her left shoulder as his left hand appeared from her back, her strap hooked around his thumb as his fingers deftly caressed the edge of her right shoulder, sliding down the length of her arm while his right hand pulled the other strap free, his fingers skimming down her limbs until reaching her knuckles, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When her top half was free from clothing, he looked back into her eyes. He kissed the base of her throat and trailed its smaller incarnations up to her jaw. She fought against her breathlessness as he leaned in, even slower until he was kissing her lips. She tasted the passion of memories she knew all too well, but now it was flavored with a kind of gentleness that made her soul shiver. His right hand reached out to her cheek. She restrained her need to kiss him harder and just let him manipulate each second to last for minutes.

He curled her hair behind her ear and followed the strands beyond her collarbone, his fingers inadvertently roaming down her chest until his right hand pressed down, partially on her breast, but seeking out the heavy pound of her human heart. He never stopped kissing her. The pressure was a little bit stronger, guiding her to lie down on the bed. His left hand rested at the nape of her neck leading her effortlessly to the pillow. He removed his boxer briefs and leaned above her, careful not to move too fast. He pulled away from the kiss briefly to hook his thumbs around her underwear. He kissed her abdomen as he leisurely dragged his harmless nail beds across the length of her legs. She released a small gasp at the sensation, still sensing his length lingering above her, but caught up in the feel of his fingers on those hands she loved all too well.

Spike kissed his way up her abdomen, then her chest, passed her neck. Once he reached her face he kissed her cheek and found his way back to her waiting mouth. His right hand lazily skimmed the length of her torso, starting at her bellybutton, moving its way up to her shoulder, only to follow that down to her empty hand, which he clasped in his. His left hand trailed down her side and moved from just above her knee to the inside of her thigh where it softly scraped the sensitive skin upwards. The more labored her kissing became, the further his hand moved up. Just before Buffy thought she might lose her mind, she felt a finger slip inside her. Her breath caught in the feeling and he kissed his way through her gasp as he prodded the digit within her.

Once he was sure she was ready, he removed his finger and pulled away from the kiss to look into her eyes. She nodded everything that she couldn't say. He gradually pushed his way inside of her and they both choked on the silence of the moment. Buffy felt her right hand move to his face, unaware of the reflex. He looked to her eyes and found that though neither of them could speak and that they didn't possess the right words even if they could, they both understood that this moment was more than anything they had ever shared in their checkered past. She desperately wanted to say something, anything, but was terrified what it would mean if she were to confess her own truth. What would happen tomorrow? She willed the question from her mind, determined to be in this moment; this fantastic, unpredictable and unparalleled slice of … love? This was what it was; love. It petrified and empowered her.

Every touch conveyed intimacy they had never known and told her that he was feeling the same way. This was a league of its own, this was heaven and hell, fire and ice, salvation and damnation and it stole her breath. Everything prior felt like a sloppy prelude, wasted potential, clumsy collision of flesh. She closed her eyes and kissed him again, afraid that he would see the tears welling in her eyes. This was perfection and she knew that it couldn't be built to last, nothing worth it was. So she kissed him and let this man who she had sex with more times than she could count, make love to her for the first time. He did his best to fulfill her request; the night stretched and lasted in some ways for eons, longer than either one of them could exist.

Hours passed of perpetual pleasure and ecstasy, of touching, clinging, needing to feel one another, and just before the sun came up, they fell asleep in each other's arms; the diurnal vampire's embrace wrapped around his Slayer's exhausted form. Spike pulled the blanket over the both of them and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you." He said, in lieu of goodnight. Buffy wanted to say it back, wanted to be able to, but found that she lacked the strength. So, she let herself forget that in a few hours they would fight for everything. Her night had enough time left to stretch into a dream of happily ever after, so she imagined and prayed to bring a self-fulfilling prophecy into reality.