"A squirt gun?" Buffy asked Willow as she inspected the little clear pink plastic pistol.
"Seemed like a little pink gun would be easier to conceal than a water bottle," Willow said with a shrug. "But it's filled with the solution that should make the cup start to oxidize. You'll need to keep the liquid in the cup for ten minutes, and even then it won't totally destroy the metal, just weaken it."
Buffy smirked and lifted her eyebrows. "At this point I'll take what I can get," she replied. "Thanks, Willow."
"You're very welcome," Willow said with a chipper smile. "And Tara's made some great progress getting through the book about the human spirit."
Buffy turned towards Tara with an expectant smile. Tara looked up from her seat at the round table with an overwhelmed expression on her face. "There's... kinda lot to unpack here," she said apologetically. "So I haven't really made that much progress."
"Oh, that's OK," Buffy said, waving her hands. "Just tell me what you got so far."
"Most of this has been just trying to justify Babbage's belief in the existence of the heart as a metaphysical concept," Tara said. "There's not... not a whole lot of proof that it exists. No spells meant to take away or restore the heart, you know?"
"But the vodnik's took Spike's heart, and..." Buffy caught herself before she could admit that for a brief instant they had restored hers. She still wasn't prepared to reveal that she was incomplete to her friends. "And then restored it when the spell was broken," she said. "I don't have any doubt that it's real."
"Neither does Babbage, apparently," Tara said. "But because there wasn't much magical proof that it could be taken away, he never really discovered an easy way to get it back. He worked with some people he suspected had their hearts taken or destroyed, and they only filled that void with love and support over long stretches of time."
"But a person without a heart can't love," Buffy said.
"No, but... I think it's like when you suffer from really bad heartbreak," Tara theorized. "From a breakup... or a death in the family. It takes a really long time to heal those scars, but your friends and family help you get through it."
Buffy sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "When Spike lost his heart he wasn't going to be fixed by friends or family," she said.
"But you said that he didn't try to kill you though, right?" Tara asked. "And that he was even still really fixated on you?"
"I tried to talk him down for a hot second," Buffy said. "He still bit me."
"But not kill you, like a soulless, heartless monster normally would," Tara said. "Maybe the heart is more like a cup. And... and it's never taken or destroyed, just emptied. Maybe you said something to Spike to put one little drop of love in that cup that kept him from killing you."
Buffy was quiet for a long moment. "The vodnik's use cups for their magic," she said thoughtfully. "But you're sure there's no way to fill it up quickly? Sort of like when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes in like a second?"
"Even the Grinch was overwhelmed with the Whos' love and compassion for each other on Christmas," Tara said. "I know it sounds cheesy, but... if Spike loses his heart again, the best thing might be to just drown him in love."
"He doesn't want love when he's like that," Buffy replied, still keeping quiet. She didn't either for that matter. The thought of her friends' love and concern usually made her sick to her stomach, since it was the reason she was ripped out of heaven and all.
"Well maybe... Maybe you have to find out what he does want, and give him that," Tara suggested. "Just start with happy feelings and sneak some love in there over time."
"I should probably go find him," Buffy said suddenly. "He wasn't in a great mood because of Jonathan and Harmony."
"Oh, yeah. OK," Tara said. "I'll keep trying to find out if there's a quick fix for a missing heart."
Buffy wandered around town aimlessly looking for Spike. He hadn't been at his crypt, her house, the Bronze, or the Espresso Pump. Now she was meandering over to the water fountain where they had first hooked up on the off chance he might be there. The thoughts racing around her head kept her feet moving at a slower pace.
When Spike had lost his heart, all he had wanted from her was blood, which she gave of her own free will. Sure, she had traded her sister's safety in exchange, but she didn't try to stop Spike from taking it after making the bargain. Was that why he didn't try to kill her?
No, she was getting her time line mixed up. Spike had already said he wasn't going to kill her even before she let him drink her blood freely. Their entire battle was just him trying to sneak little sips from her without killing her, which was why it had been so tricky. So what did she give him that stopped him from going full-blown monster?
Buffy stopped dead in her tracks, only realizing several weeks after the fact that she didn't try to stake him when he lost his heart. The thought of killing him never even crossed her mind. She only cared about keeping Dawn safe and getting Spike back to normal. She had already accepted that he was worth saving.
Acceptance. That was what Spike wanted from her. He even said as much back in the drive to the prize fight. He knew better to expect love from Buffy, but that she could accept him as a man with a real heart instead of a monster... That she had tried to save him rather than immediately trying to destroy him when he lost his heart... That she even admitted to the vodnik earlier that night that she had seen proof that his loving heart was real... That was what he wanted. That single drop of love that kept his heart from being emptied entirely.
So what did Buffy want? What could fill up her heart enough that she could love again? Sex didn't seem like an appropriate answer, even though getting down and dirty made her feel more alive than anything else. But even before she finally slept with him, being around Spike was the only thing that made her feel anywhere close to alright. Was it also just because of acceptance? Because he didn't expect her to try to be OK and that he just let her be?
Buffy didn't think just being was going to get her heart back. She thought about that intense, blinding love she felt when Spike's heart was shared with her. He had enough love for both of them. If only the love he was giving her could fill her heart, instead of falling through like a sieve. She sighed heavily, and left it for worrying about on another day. She could see the fountain up ahead, and Spike was sitting on the edge, his hand drifting in the water.
"What brings you back here?" Buffy asked as she approached him.
"Was just thinking," he said, not looking up at her. "Talk about your dark waters a lot. 'Bout you trying to keep your head above the surface so that you don't drown. Seems weird that a water demon is what's comin' after you now, trying to pull you under." He looked up at Buffy then, a pensive expression on his face.
"It's just a metaphor, Spike," she replied.
"So was the heart, once," he countered. "Til we found out otherwise."
Before Buffy could utter another word, a huge splash erupted from the surface of the water, an arm emerging from the shape taking place to pull Spike into the base of the fountain. When the water cleared, the new vodnik was standing there with an arm around Spike's neck, brandishing a makeshift stake that looked like it was made out of driftwood. He looked exactly like the internet nerd that Jonathon had described.
"Oh come on!" Spike exclaimed. "You're makin' me the damsel in distress now?"
"Yeah, what the hell, vodnik," Buffy said, just as angry as Spike. "This place is special to us and now you're gonna ruin it!"
"You have our most sincere apologies about that, Slayer," the vodnik replied, keeping a firm grip on Spike as he struggled in his arm. "We know the stake aimed at your lover's heart suggests otherwise, but we have no ill will towards the two of you. You're a couple of rare, sparkling diamonds, and we wish you two crazy kids could just work things out."
"So maybe let the vampire go?" Buffy suggested helpfully. The vodnik smiled warmly back at her.
"Sorry Slayer, but we're collectors," he replied, shaking his head. "And your soul is one sparkling diamond we just can't let go."
Buffy sighed heavily. "Figures," she replied. "You baddies like to pretend to be all sunshine and lollipops until somebody else has something you want. Then it's all 'I'm gonna steal your memories' or 'let's see how you boyfriend acts without a heart'. And... which one are you, again?"
"Come on, girl," he chastised. "We know you had to have learned something from all our little encounters."
"You have the memories of all three vodniks," Buffy said. "Got it. But what's your name? ReJoin...ker?"
He smiled again at her. "We're the Concluder," he replied with a polite nod of the head.
"So I guess this is ending one way or another," she said.
"Yes," he replied carefully, the tin cup appearing in the hand near Spike's throat. "We've just got to have that Slayer soul. And hey, maybe this rude punk of yours is so dedicated that he will still love you when it's gone."
Time seemed to slow down for everyone as the next moves took place. First, Buffy drew her squirt gun out and aimed it at the tin cup. Then, the vodnik tossed the shimmery liquid in the cup towards Buffy. At nearly the exact same moment, Spike flung his elbow back and broke free from the vodnik's hold, knocking the tin cup from his hand in the process. Buffy had to make a snap decision to dive for the cup and get the rust solution in there, or get out of the way of the magic.
She went for the cup.
Buffy leapt forward, pulling the trigger on her squirt gun the instant the tin cup landed in her outstretched hand. The solution landed in the cup just before she felt a cold splash of another liquid land on her back. She heard Spike shouting her name, and then everything went black.
Buffy sat up with a start, breathing heavily. She was on the couch in her living room, totally fine. It seemed to be daytime outside now, so maybe Spike had gotten her home the night before and she just passed out.
She instinctively put her hand over her heart. Still beating, even thought that really told her nothing of her metaphysical heart. She recalled the events of the last day, down to the last year. Research party and her sacrificing herself to save the world, so memories still intact. She tried to think about murder and mayhem, and just doing generally evil things. It still disgusted her, so she still had her soul.
So what had happened? Did the Concluder's spell just fizzle out or something? She needed to find somebody to get some answers about what she missed. She threw the fleece blanket off of her and put her feet on the floor, then froze when she heard her name being called.
Except it wasn't her name, exactly. It was a whiny cry of "Moo-oom!"
Buffy looked slowly towards the foyer where the call had come from. Dawn walked in, looking not a day over ten years old.
"I know you wanted me to let you keep napping unless the twins started something major bad, but I'm pretty sure this counts," young Dawn said. "They pried off the loose dining room chair legs again and are using them for sword fighting."
"The... twins?" Buffy repeated absently. As soon as she said it, Buffy heard what could only be described as the pitter patter of little feet, as two little kids scampered into the living room chasing one another with the wooden chair legs. Buffy did a double take, realizing that it wasn't just any two little kids. It was Xander and Willow, roughly three years old.
Their giggling and chasing stopped the second they saw Buffy, and the look of utter shock that must have been on her face. "Uh oh, we woke up Mommy," little Willow said.
"Do you... want to play pirates with us, Mommy?" little Xander asked. He had fashioned a little eye-patch out of some black construction paper and masking tape.
"I, uh..." Buffy trailed off, her brain having left the station.
Little Willow snickered at her lack of an answer, then darted from the living room to run up the stairs. "Hey! Get back here you scurvy dog!" little Xander called before chasing after her.
"Mom? Are you OK?" young Dawn asked. "Do you still have a headache?"
"W-what happened with the vodnik demon?" Buffy asked, trying to get a handle on things.
"Demon?" young Dawn repeated. "Were you having a nightmare?"
So maybe the vodnik had cast a spell on her after all. One that made her a mom to Dawn, Xander, and Willow for some reason. Why would he do that instead of just taking her soul? Buffy looked around the living room. Her weapons chest was missing and everything hinted at just a normal household.
"Um, Dawn," Buffy began slowly, trying to figure out how to ask a ten year old where she kept her weapons. "When I go out at night, where do I keep the stuff I take with me?"
"Whadya mean, go out?" young Dawn asked. "You and Dad lock yourself in your room almost every night as soon as we're all in bed."
Oh, there was a Dad now too. "I'm feeling really sleepy still," Buffy said with a nervous chuckle. "Can you help me wake up and... describe my life to me?"
"Uuuuuh," young Dawn said, clearly confused by the request. "You're... my mom?" Buffy nodded her encouragement to keep going. "You have three kids. Me, Xander, and Willow. Um... You work for a marketing company, managing press releases and publicity stuff? You and Dad had your eleventh anniversary last month. You had a bunch of ones all over the place for decoration, it just kinda looked like you had gone insane or something, ha ha. You do a lot of scrapbooking so it feels like you're always taking a million pictures. Aaaaaaand, we eat dinner in an hour?" she finished.
"Wow... OK, thanks Dawn," Buffy said. "I'm gonna go start getting dinner ready. Can you look after the twins?"
"Suuure," young Dawn said slowly. "Are you sure you're feeling OK, Mom?"
"Y-yeah, just," Buffy stammered. "Just had a weird dream is all."
"All right..." young Dawn mused before bounding up the stairs.
Buffy slowly got up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen as if in a trance. This was her dream life. The husband, the three kids, the PR job... and no slaying. It was all what she used to fantasize about in a normal life before she gave up hope. This was everything that she ever wanted. She didn't have to worry about saving the world and destroying monsters anymore. She just had to worry about making dinner.
She leaned over the kitchen island and took in a shaky breath, before letting it out with a sad chuckle. Of all the spells for the vodnik to use on her, they chose the one that gave her the perfect life? It was a weird decision, but hey, she was gonna enjoy it while it lasted. She turned around and opened the freezer, finding a nice and easy box lasagna she could cook in less than thirty minutes. Even in her dream life she wasn't a good cook. She turned on the oven to preheat, admiring the realism of the spell.
As she was reading the instructions on the box, she heard the doorbell ring three times in quick succession, before the front door opened and slammed shut. A cry of "Daddy!" rang out from upstairs, before she heard the thunder of little legs running down the stairs. Daddy was home.
A mess of emotions rolled over Buffy. It would be nice to have an adult in the house to try to pry some answers from, but she knew who that adult would be. In all her fantasies she had been married to Angel. Once upon a time she might have been comforted by seeing Angel like this. He had planted roots in her heart and would always be a part of her. But now that her attachment to him had left the building along with her heart, she had only the memories to go by. And those memories of the bad variety outweighed those of the good. So when Angel finally walked into the kitchen, she tensed up.
"Hey Buffy," he said, keeping his tone friendly as he moved to lean over the island, grabbing an apple out of the fruit dish and taking a large bite.
Buffy thought he didn't look right in his police uniform. Spike had been all angles and lean muscle, but the details around the shoulders made Angel's already broad frame appear boxy.
"Lasagna for dinner, huh?" he asked, gesturing to the box she had on the counter in front of her. "Bet the kids will love that."
Buffy wasn't sure how to behave around him. Should she play along with this whole scenario and act like a loving wife and mother? She really wanted to milk this normal life thing for everything it was worth while she had the chance, but with Angel? Maybe she could get him to watch the kids while she soaked in the tub or something.
"Yeah," she muttered stiffly. "Hope you like garlic," she added with a nervous chuckle.
"Oh, I can't stay," Angel said straightening up. "I just wanted to snag one of these apples from your tree out back. Way better than store-bought."
Buffy gave him a confused stare just as she heard the shrieking laughter pouring out of the foyer. "Just a sec," she said to Angel as she skirted around him and out of the kitchen.
Buffy froze in her tracks by the stairs. There on the floor roughhousing with the giggling twins with a big, happy grin on his face... was Spike. Natural dishwater blonde, police uniform clad Spike. When he glanced up to see her approach, the smile he gave her was one of pure adoration.
"Hey, kitten," he said, peeling the little kids off of him as he stood up to greet her. "How'd your big pitch meeting go today?"
Angel wasn't her husband. Spike was. Her fantasy had changed. And the surge of relief and satisfaction at this change told her that while Angel might have been rooted in her absent heart, Spike was in her scar tissue, slowly making the void a little less empty.
Buffy resolutely marched up to her husband, threw her arms around his neck, and smashed her lips against his. She expected fire and heat, but instead she saw a flash of white, all of her senses momentarily drowned out in the flash.
When she opened her eyes, she saw empty alleyways speeding by, she felt a hard shoulder pressed up against her cheek, and she heard a soft groan escape from her lips. Buffy only had enough energy to turn her head a bit, and she realized Spike had flung her on his back piggyback style and was running quickly through the darkened Sunnydale streets. He was a bleached blonde again and dressed in his black leather duster, so she must be back in real life.
"Just hold on, love," Spike called out to her once he noticed her stirring. "I got the cup with the rust juice still in it. Probably eating away at the tin right now and those little indents will be holes before you know it. Just try to fight off whatever hell you're seein' in your head right now till then."
Well that wasn't right. The spell the vodnik had put on her was really nice, actually. Buffy tried to speak, tried to correct him. Or at the very least she tried to ask what happened to the Concluder since they were currently running down the street with his cup in tow. But her strength failed her and her vision started to fade.
"The vodnik's strong. Too strong," Spike said, as if knowing part of what she wanted to ask. "Tossed me around like a bloody ragdoll. Had to get us out of there until he's weakened."
Buffy strained to hear him as his voice sounded farther away, until she couldn't hear the sound of his boots pounding on the concrete either. The streetlights went out entirely, and everything went black.
"Eeeeew!" Buffy heard two little kids say when the lights came back on. She realized she was back in her dream life, still kissing human policeman Spike, and pulled back, her hands lingering on his shoulders.
"So good day at work then?" Spike asked with a pleased grin.
Buffy gave him a wide smile. "I'm just really glad to see you," she said, rubbing her hands down his shoulders. She supposed she should be a little more worried to fall back under the spell, but this one was pretty great, and real world Spike seemed to have a handle on things. No use worrying about it.
"I think that's my cue to leave," Angel said, coming up behind them. "Take it easy, Will. Buffy, good to see you." He bolted out the front door before either of them could respond.
"God I love seeing that tosser get all antsy when you're affectionate," Spike said. "You'd think the dozen or so years since you split would have him over it by now. Thanks for that, pet."
A beep alerting that the oven was preheated went off. "Oh! I need to put the lasagna in the oven for dinner to be ready in time," Buffy said. "Can you watch the kids?"
"Course, babe," he replied. "I'll just toss 'em on the swing set for a bit."
Buffy grinned, gave him another quick peck on the lips, then rushed off to the kitchen. She couldn't contain her excitement at the chance to enjoy domesticity and marital bliss. The kids all ran through the kitchen to get to the back door while she took the lasagna out of the box and put in in the oven. Just as she closed the oven door, she felt a hand grab a fist full of her buttcheek, causing her to jump.
Spike wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck, giving her the most amazing lick right near her collarbone. "Just keeping you on your toes," he said under his breath. "I'll be out back with the kids." And with that, he disappeared out the back door.
Buffy gripped the counter and tried to catch her breath. Going by the clues she had picked up in this little fantasy, she had been with Spike for over ten years. It was almost overwhelming being around someone who was so comfortable with her body that the barriers of personal space were non-existent. She could only wonder how intimately familiar he was with the way her body could react to him after all this time...
She set the timer on the oven, then wandered over to the back door with shaky legs to peek out the window. Spike was pushing the twins on the glider swing, practically glowing in the sunlight. The smile he wore wasn't the pouty smirk or saucy leers she was so used to seeing him throw her way, he was genuinely happy. Spike, devout lover of chaos and mayhem, was happy with a normal life of domestic bliss.
It was Buffy's fantasy after all. It wouldn't be much of a fantasy if her husband was miserable. But there was a gnawing desire inside her to reconcile the Spike she knew to be real with her fantasy husband. She wasn't sure why. It wasn't like she and Spike could get married and have kids in the real world, or that it was something Buffy even wanted with him. No, Buffy wanted to bring the real world into the fantasy, to make the fantasy more real. Plus, the real Spike was fantastic in bed. She had to make sure that part of him carried over too.
Dinner went quickly, mostly from Buffy shoveling down her food and rushing everyone else through it. Every time Spike looked at her with those eyes promising the sinful stuff he would do to her later, she moved a little bit faster.
After getting all the kids in their PJ's, Buffy hopped in the shower for a quick rinse while Spike read to the kids and put them to bed. When she emerged squeaky clean and wearing a fluffy pink nighty under her robe, she found him already in bed with a book, wearing nothing but a set of low riding pajama bottoms and a pair of reading glasses.
Buffy couldn't stop herself from flinging herself on the bed, only just containing her eagerness before she nearly landed on top of him. Spike was sure to give her a wild ride if she wanted it, but she had to remind herself that she wanted to make sure this was still the man she wanted first.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Buffy said, scooting up on her knees next to him.
"Course," he said, taking off his reading glasses and setting them on the nightstand with his book. "What's on your mind, love?"
"Are you, um," Buffy paused, not sure why she should feel uneasy asking the question of a fantasy person. "Are you happy? With this life, I mean?"
Spike squinted at her and raised a disbelieving brow. "I have a fearless valkyrie for a wife, three crafty sprites for children, and I get to be a viking of the people for work. Why the hell would I be unhappy?"
"You don't wish you could be more... chaotic?" Buffy asked. "Unchained? Wild?"
"What, you worried I'll revert back to my rabble rousing salad days?" he asked, his confusion turning into a knowing smirk. "You bloody well know I'm just a fool for love. Not much more I need in life than you and the little bits." He took her hand in his and rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb.
"But that thrill for mayhem," Buffy said. "That warrior inside you... It can't just... disappear."
"Well, that's why I get to bash some heads in at the Double Pound Arena once a month, innit?" he said. "'Sides, bein' a cop's a bit like bein' a warrior of justice. Just a lot more of the keepin' the peace variety."
Buffy smiled at him, satisfied enough with his answer that she could still see the real Spike in there.
"Spike," she said quietly.
The growl he held low in his throat reminded Buffy more of the monster he wasn't supposed to be in this fantasy than the man. Considering the jolt of electricity it sent running all the way down to her toes, she knew she didn't mind.
"You haven't called me that since we were datin'," he said, his voice husky.
"Wanna make it a date night?" she asked. "Without the date part though."
"Always," he said, guiding her hand down to his groin to cup his already stiffening erection. Buffy gasped at his boldness. Spike was always bold, but he'd been clearly holding back with all his worry of getting his heart broken. This Spike wasn't worried about rejection or Buffy's lack of heart. He had ten years of swagger, confidence, and experience screwing his wife. Maybe in that way, this Spike was more unleashed than the real one. He couldn't go around fighting whoever he wanted, but he could love who he wanted. And all he wanted was her.
In a way, this Spike was more real. More true to his nature. And God it was hot.
"Did I ever tell you how sexy you look in your police uniform?" Buffy asked, her own shyness getting the best of her as she pulled her hand away.
"Only every single day, pet," he replied, his grin turning cheeky. "Speakin' of the uniform... I had a little chat with the captain today. Sounds like I'm on the right track for making detective by the end of the year."
Buffy blanched. "Will you lose the uniform?" she blurted our before thinking to offer any words of encouragement. Spike couldn't help but laugh at her reaction.
"Could never do that to you, love," he said. "That'd be like you throwing out your red riding hood costume."
"Red riding hood?" Buffy asked, confused.
"Well, yeah," he said slowly, climbing on top of her. "Wouldn't want to cage the big," he said kissing one side of her neck. "Bad," he continued, kissing the other. "Wolf," he finished, pushing her bathrobe out of the way and giving a gentle bite to her collarbone.
Buffy gasped, half in pleasure, half in realization. How she never made the connection to Spike always calling himself the 'Big Bad' and little red riding hood, she wasn't sure. She really wanted to track down her old Halloween costume and put it on to see his reaction, but Spike was already unwrapping her bathrobe like she was a Christmas gift.
"Mmmm," her purred, leaning down over her once she was left in only the slinky nighty. "What tiny clothes you have, my dear."
Buffy surged forward to capture his mouth with hers, unable to restrain herself any longer. The kiss triggered another flash of blinding white light, and she was back with the other Spike. The one who was fully clothed and wasn't about to make love to her.
"No," Buffy pouted quietly.
"Oh thank the powers that bloody be," Spike said, crouching down in front of her.
Buffy looked around at her surroundings. She was on the floor, her back up against the wall, in what looked like a closed bar. No, not a bar. A hibachi restaurant with a bar in one corner, judging by all the stovetop tables in the building.
"You went catatonic on me for a minute there, love," Spike continued, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Dunno what's goin' on in your head right now, but you've got to hold on to whatever you got left. Stay Buffy. Don't let them turn you into a zombie."
"Spike," Buffy whispered, her eyelids feeling like lead. "Is this real? Are you real?"
"Yeah, I'm real," he responded, moving closer to try to get her to see him. "Focus on me, on my voice."
Spike looked so worried. No trace of the cocky swagger he normally had, just... fear. Even when his own life was in danger she had never seen him like this. Was this really the true Spike? The vampire who was in love with her? Didn't it make more sense for her human husband to be the real one and this was just some crazy dream?
"I don't know which one to listen to," Buffy murmured, the two realities starting to blur in her mind.
"Me, love," Spike said, leaning in to hug her tightly.
Buffy sighed into his embrace, as the world started to fade away. When she came to again, she was back in bed, kissing her husband Spike.
"God I love kissing you," he murmured against her mouth. "Could kiss you a million times... Could kiss you for a hundred years... Your mouth will always feel like heaven. Never grow tired of it."
She pulled back and smiled appreciatively at him, feeling herself almost glowing at the relief from returning to this fantasy. This was where she wanted to be, in the arms of the man who loved her, without worrying about the safety of the world or her metaphysical defects. She just wanted this love, and to show him what this kind of peace of mind meant to her.
She flipped them over so that she was on top of Spike, then gave him a kiss that she hoped would really knock his socks off. Whatever that means. She wanted to show him how she was feeling. This had to be real. Only the real Spike could kiss like this, could make her feel like her heart could feel again. She snaked her way down his body, pulling his pajama pants down with her. Spike looked down at her, his lower lip between his teeth. Whatever cheeky comment he was about to make died on his lips as Buffy took his erection into her mouth.
"Christ, Buffy..." he moaned. "You're such a bloody perfect woman, you know that?" He had thrown his head back and gripped the pillows around him, clearly restraining himself from just thrusting into her mouth.
Buffy licked him from base to head, wanting nothing more than to bring him to life the way he did for her. She used every trick she knew, though she had to admit that wasn't a whole lot. Still, Spike seemed to be enjoying it, as he had been reflexively clawing at the bed sheets and thrashing his arms whenever her tongue performed a pointed little twist. His breathing grew heavy, and if Buffy didn't know any better, she would have thought she was torturing him.
"Buffy, I need-" he cut himself off with a gasp, before reaching down to her shoulders and pulling her up face to face. He gave her a frenzied kiss and lifted her nighty over her head, careful not to tear it. Instead of proceeding to the wild animal sex like Buffy was expecting, he flipped her around so that her thighs were framing his face, and proceeded to bury his tongue in her heat.
"Oh my God!" Buffy shouted.
"Shh, pet," Spike hushed against her lower lips. "Don't want to wake the twins."
Buffy bit her lip and clenched her hands in her hair in an attempt to keep quiet. She had never had a guy do this for her before. It had been strictly missionary all the way up until Spike, with the exception of her little bit of oral experience. The sensations that Spike was giving her with his lips and mouth on her now though was beyond anything she had ever imagined. She opened her eyes wide as he lapped at her, almost unbelieving at how good this felt.
Then she realized what position Spike had put them in. His erection was right in front of her, and if she adjusted just a little bit, she could be pleasing him the same way he was pleasing her. So she went for it, and took him into her mouth once again.
With her hands running up and down his thighs, she had the sensation that she was totally in control of Spike's pleasure, even while he was driving her to new heights with his massage of a lifetime. Buffy felt almost delirious with lust, never having felt more erotic in her life. It was like she had climbed to the top of a mountain, and gotten far away from that black water. Up here, there was only her and Spike. So when they fell, they fell together in one joined, crashing climax.
When they collapsed back on the bed, Spike had flipped her around again so they could lie face to face, smiling happily at her. Buffy stared in awe at Spike, the way he so often stared at her. She felt totally fulfilled. It wasn't long ago that she had resigned herself to the Slayer life, knowing she could never have this. But now that she did, it was even greater than she had ever imagined.
Her vision started to fade, and Buffy rubbed her eyes to try to stay awake, wanting to bask in the post-coital glow a little longer. But as everything started to grow dark, and Spike seemed to slide farther and farther away from her, she realized she wasn't falling asleep. She sat up with a start on the bed, suddenly surrounded by darkness.
"Spike?" she asked in a panic. "William?" She groped around in the spot where he should have been, but she felt only a cold featureless surface. Even the bed was gone. Buffy scrambled to her feet, spinning around to try to find something for her eyes to focus on. But every direction she could see was completely black. She was in a total void.
Somehow, Buffy knew with perfect clarity, that all this darkness was her heart.
"Spike," she whispered into the emptiness, trying to fight off the despair that threatened to crush her.
"You can't have this life," a voice whispered back, the sound coming from all around her. "You never will." As Buffy strained to hear the disembodied whisper, she realized that was her voice speaking to her.
"You can never be normal," the whisper continued. "You can never rest. You are doomed to fight until you die."
"I did die," Buffy argued back. "Twice! That's enough to have earned a little vacation at least."
"The Slayer doesn't earn anything," the voice said. "Not love, not money, not happiness. The Slayer is a weapon. Weapons don't get rewards or earn a time out."
"Spike loves me," Buffy countered. "We have an amazing life together, with three beautiful kids."
"Spike isn't real," the voice argued back. "That man's love doesn't exist. All you have is the love of a monster."
Buffy shook her head, getting confused for a moment. Her husband wasn't real? He was her partner in life, her support structure, her backup. Why was the voice trying to take that away from her? Why was the emptiness so determined to make her be alone?
She couldn't hold back the tears now. She had fought alone for so long against the whole world. She didn't want to lose this amazing love when she had only just discovered it.
Buffy fell to her knees, sobbing. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Why can't you just let me be happy?"
"You know why," the voice answered back. "You don't deserve to be happy."
Buffy sobbed harder, feeling the sting of truth behind those words. She knew she didn't deserve it. She even rejected Spike's love for a long time, refusing to accept it as genuine. Why should she get to keep it now?
Right, Spike was a vampire, not her husband, Buffy realized as a little bit of clarity came back to her. But whichever life was fantasy and whichever was reality, Spike's love was a constant. That was real no matter where she was. He was going to love her whether she deserved it or not.
That was why the voice was doing this to her. She had this amazing, beautiful, rare love from a creature that shouldn't even be capable of it, and yet he loved her all the same. It was an amazing gift, and the voice wanted to take it from her, to make her forget it was real. It was trying to break her, to make her give up.
But why? Buffy was already broken. She was heartless. Why did the voice need to push her down even more? Why didn't the vodnik just take her soul and get it over with already?
"Buffy, please."
She heard another voice. One that sounded like it was coming from very far away, but was unmistakably Spike's. He sounded worried, like he was on the verge of breaking himself.
"Come back, baby," Spike begged. "I know this life isn't easy. I know it's hard when so much is missing. But it'll get better, I promise you... I will make it better. Just like you made mine better."
"Spike?" Buffy called out into the darkness, hoping he could hear her.
"I thought I had nothing left before I fell for you," Spike continued as if she hadn't spoken. "You'll get there too. Even... even if it's not with me. You can love again. I promise you'll love again."
Buffy's heart ached as he bargained with what was probably her lifeless body on the floor of a restaurant. She wished she could answer him back, tell him that he was already helping her to get better.
Buffy froze. Her her heart ached.
If it ached that meant she could feel. She had a heart. It was small and frail, covered in scar tissue, and nearly empty, but it was there. Spike had been filling it up slowly, drop by tiny drop, with his overwhelming love for her. And she only just now had enough to feel it aching for him.
The vodnik was trying to destroy her heart, to empty out that little splash of love in there so they could easily take her soul. To ruin that tiny little bit of hope she still clung to.
Because she was in love with Spike, too.
Spike had been in love with her for so long and she refused to believe him, because of what he was. Then, when she had been falling in love with him all this time, she couldn't believe it because of what she was. But his love was real, it brought her back to life. And now, so was hers. She felt that tiny powerful seed of love sitting there in her chest aching, longing for him, and she knew it was genuine. Buffy wasn't going to reject it anymore.
"I won't be broken," she said to the void. She stood up and wiped her eyes, giving her best Slayer face to the empty blackness around her. "My heart might be damaged and weak, but it's growing stronger every day. Because I love Spike. The real Spike. I accept that love now, and it's going to keep growing until my heart is stronger than it ever was before."
The world flashed white again, and when it cleared away, she was back in the hibachi restaurant with Spike's arms wrapped around her in a painful grip.
"Spike," she croaked out.
He pulled back and put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her face. His eyes were wet with tears as he looked her over. "Buffy," he whispered, his hands coming up to frame her face as a watery smile replaced the hopelessness in his eyes. "I thought they had beaten you, love. Tell me that was the worst of it."
"I... I think so," Buffy said, bringing up her hand to place over his. Her limbs felt sluggish and heavy, but she mustered up a smile for him.
Spike leaned his forehead against hers, breathing out an unneeded sigh of relief, before pulling her into a tight embrace. Buffy let her eyes fall closed and breathed him in. That leathery smell was heavenly right about now.
When she opened her eyes again, the Concluder was standing right in front of her, driftwood stake in hand.
If you've been following along with the chapter names, you may notice I skipped Hells Bells. The momentum of the story just pushed me straight into Normal Again.