Part Four

"You! You! I want you!"

Buffy had stood up and was yelling at Spike before she even felt herself move. Had those words really passed her lips? She decided it was best to make use of the momentum and not stop to question it.

"Yes," she continued, affirming herself to his incredulous eyes. "I do want you to talk to me, to tell me stuff I don't wanna hear. I want the stupid jokes, and the awful language. I want you. All of it!"

Spike blinked, his mouth agape. She expected him to just reach over, take hold of her, and kiss her hard – making everything okay again – but he just sat there, and the longer he sat, the more Buffy regretted her words. Anya must have been wrong, she thought. He doesn't love me anymore. He doesn't love me at all!

The Slayer was thinking of possible ways to backtrack out of what she said when he squeezed her hand, making her look down at where they were joined. She'd actually forgotten she was still holding his.

"Buffy," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea what that means to me. How long I…" using his free hand, he tilted her face back towards his, then asked, "Do you mean it?"

She nodded, a traitorous tear escaping down her cheek. Still he didn't kiss her. Why wasn't he kissing her?!

He looked away. "You shouldn't want me, Buffy. I'm not a good man."

"But you are a man. I watched you become one, and I… I- goddamn it, Spike, I love you!"

"No," he said, his tone cold. "You can't, surely."

"But I do!" Buffy insisted, more tears falling. He had to understand, because if he didn't then this was it, the end of everything.

"Buffy," he said again.

"No, listen. Tara didn't know she was gonna die, but she got to spend her last day with Willow. We have got a heads up on the end of the world, and we're wasting it. Anya was right to be angry."

"We're not gonna die," he told her. Again, it had not been the response she had been expecting, and it threw her a little. This was totally not how she saw her evening going at all. Regardless, she tried to lead the conversation back on track.

"You don't know that for sure," she said. "That's the kinda my point."

"I know you," Spike maintained, but was cut off from the rest of his pep talk by Buffy raising her hand.

"No, no, that's not the point!"

"But you said-"

"Forget what I said! I'm trying to say something here!" Heart beating furiously, and head beyond flustered, Buffy looked at a very confused Spike with panic before they both burst out into laughter.

"Anyone ever tell you, you got a way with words, Summers?"

"Oh, yeah," Buffy retorted, "You bet."

They both took a much-needed breath and then she tried again – calmly, this time.

"I'm sorry for acting all crazy, and not making any sense, but I guess I'd been waiting for the right time. For when we had a moment, and there wasn't a war on." She shook her head. "I should have known better."

"'m not worth the effort," Spike muttered under his breath.

Okay, now she was mad at him. "Will you stop that? I meant life doesn't wait around, waiting for you to be ready. You just have to jump in."

There was a long pause, then:

"Life is short," Spike intoned, before finally – mercifully – kissing the Slayer deeply.

The next time Anya and Xander were at Buffy's house – together, she'd noticed – he'd asked to have a quiet word with Spike. Buffy had been hesitant about allowing it but, really, what could she do?

"Just don't break anything!" she'd called after them, as they headed for the kitchen, hoping her half-joke would help ease any potential tension.

And what was with her kitchen being a place for heavy conversations all of a sudden, anyway? Looking around at the room chock-full of teenagers, Buffy retracted her conversation from her own mental notepad and spoke to Anya, instead.

"You followed through then?"

"Yes," Anya beamed. "And you?"

Buffy nodded. "Looks like it all worked out." She couldn't help but smile and be thankful – probably for the first time ever – for Anya's forthright attitude and need to take life by both hands, squeezing it until it yielded to her will.

"I know I don't like you," Xander began, once the kitchen door had shut behind Spike. "And that's probably not gonna change anytime soon, but… thanks, I guess. If Buffy can forgive you, then it's not really my place to hold that grudge for her."

"Appreciated, mate," said Spike, earnestly.

"So, what's with you too, anyway? Anya's been saying you might be trying things out again?"

"We…" Spike began, not really knowing how to finish. "We're definitely trying," he decided, finally. "Not really at a stage for labels or high hopes, but… yeah, trying."

Xander snorted, causing Spike to give him a curious look.

"Please!" he exclaimed, "No high hopes? Who are you kidding?"

Spike cracked a guilty smile. "No one, apparently."

Xander smiled back, if not a little awkwardly. "Well…" he started, gesturing towards the door. Spike gave him a nod, indicating it was fine to now abandon the conversation. He was more than pleased with how it went, and almost proud of Xander for seemingly becoming perceptive of late. One thing the vampire vowed to himself, was to try and play nicer with Buffy's mates, because if Anya was anything to go by, they could be downright essential to both their continued happiness.