A.N. Hi, yes it has been a really really long time, but I'm living in China teaching English and sometimes living here just gets totally in the way of other things. So! Much delayed and with my sincere apologies along with my sincere gratitude to all of those of you who have followed and favorited and commented and read, here is the latest chapter.
"You're sure he's fine and won't be eating us in our sleep, because I really would rather not have my thousand year life ended by a vampire that lived in Xander's basement. That is hardly a way to go," Anya commented as she took a bite of her pizza.
The gang was sitting around the living room table taking part in their patchwork family dinner. Dawn sat at the head of the table with her knees pressed to her chest as she split her time between taking unattractively large bites of pizza and making stabbing attempts at her algebra homework.
Buffy cringed at the thought of the homework being turned in with such numerous pizza sauce stains, but at least it would get turned it, which was more than she could say for most of her high school career.
"What was wrong with my basement?" Xander complained, snatching Anya's soda. "You guys are always ragging on it."
"It was awful," Anya said plainly.
"I kind of liked it, it had a nice grunge atmosphere." Willow patted Xander's arm reassuringly.
"Okay . . . living arrangements aside," Buffy said, snatching her sister's homework away before a particularly large glob of sauce could spill on it, "Spike seems fine. I'm going to keep an eye on him for the rest of the night. He doesn't want to be around you guys until he's sure that he's the one in control again."
"Hm. He must really be adapting to the soul." Anya grabbed another slice and Dawn grabbed her worksheet. The original three looked over at Anya with questioning looks. "Well, I mean, before he would have gladly used any excuse to kill us, which I can reasonably understand. You guys weren't exactly nice to him. In fact, you treated him like crap. That boy was just crying out for some vengeance."
A mutual unease stole over them; Dawn glanced up at her sister to gauge her reaction to this brutal honesty.
"He was a demon." Xander felt obligated to point out. "One who tried to kill us. Excuse my lack of cuddly feelings toward him."
"This is so in the past," Dawn jumped in, seeing the flicker of pain cross her sister's face. "He's all not evil now, well, except when being played by the First, and he and Buffy are cuddly enough to spare the rest of us. So! More happy thoughts and pizza."
"Happy thoughts," Willow agreed, pouring herself and Dawn more pop. "Like Giles will be here in the morning."
"Right," Buffy nodded, reaching out for the container of spicy buffalo wings. "Giles will come and be all Giles-y and in no time we'll be rescuing Andrew so he can go back to annoying us all."
Anya cracked open the cap of her pop. "Unless he's dead."
"Ahn!" Xander squeezed her knee forcefully.
"That is not a happy thought," Dawn accused with narrowed eyes.
"Maybe not for you," Anya shrugged.
Buffy tugged at her pony tail feeling her nerves begin to frazzle. "Okay! I'm going down to see Spike. If you need me, knock. Don't come down unless you need to." She stopped behind Dawn's chair to give her a sister a one armed hug, then left the group to devour the remaining pizza.
Spike was sitting on the cot, staring down at his hands, an empty blood bag at his feet. He was chained back to the wall, thick manacles around his wrists and ankles.
"Hey," Buffy called quietly from her perch on the last basement step.
Spike looked up, his blue eyes searching for her, then lingering on the still fresh bite on the side of her neck. "Hey."
"So I brought you wings." She held out the box as she crossed to him.
A half smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, Love."
Buffy sat down beside him. Spike shifted so he could hold her against his chest with one arm, and took the container with his left hand. "The Scoobies all set with the not stabbing me with a piece of sharp wood plan, then?"
She rested her head against his shoulder. "I see a very long non-dusty future for you if we don't all die in the next apocalypse of course."
"Sounds about right." He pried open the lid on the wings and retrieved two. Spike held one out to her but Buffy demurred. As he ate, Buffy ran her fingers up down the arm that was secure around his waist, running over his soft skin and light hair that didn't match his dark roots.
"Spicy enough?" she asked.
"Mm."
Her laugh was quiet. "That's good, right?"
"Yeah."
Above them, they heard her friends scrapping chairs against the floor and the muffled chorus of multiple voices trying to talk over one another. "What are they saying?" Buffy asked.
Spike cocked his head to the side and focused on the noise. "Dawn's fighting Xander for the last slice of pizza and Willow is trying to convince Anya we aren't having sex."
"What?" Buffy sat up straighter. "Geez. Not everyone is horny all the time!"
He shrugged behind her, placing a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. "Speak for yourself, Love."
She grinned, twisting around to see him properly. "Feeling better then?"
Spike closed the wings' container and placed it on the floor beside the cot. His cerulean eyes traced over every angle of her face as if memorizing her. Lifting his hand, Spike brushed the bangs back from her face. "Early one morning."
"Just as the sun was rising," Buffy continued the song softly, her own hands coming to cup his face.
He'd asked her to have Willow look up the song. He wanted to be sure, to be as sure as he could, that there wasn't any of the First left in him.
So Buffy sang, her eyes trained on his as he listened and although he tensed, nothing flickered in those blue eyes that she didn't recognize. When the song was over, Buffy closed her eyes, leaned in, and pressed her lips against his.
Spike's arms came around her back, holding her to him in a needful embrace. The kiss was chaste, a simple meeting of soft lips against one another. Then Buffy leaned back and opened her eyes.
"Still here?"
"Always, Love."
She smiled. "Good." Taking the key from her pants pocket, Buffy unlocked the chains that bound him and tossed them deftly across the basement under the stairs.
Newly freed, Spike laid down on the cot, drawing her down with him. She cuddled against his chest, her arms around his waist. Spike's hands wandered up the back of her shirt, stroking the curve of her spine as he hummed the song that had haunted him for over a century.
They didn't talk about what they had shared when he bit her after coming out of the séance. They didn't need to.
Buffy knew exactly what it was like to lose your mother to a sickness you couldn't stop. She knew what it was to feel that helpless and to want to save someone more than anything. She understood his actions, she didn't judge them, she didn't question them, she understood. That's all that mattered.
"Love you, Buffy."
She smiled as sleep gently claimed her. "Don't ever leave me again."
"Never," he whispered in her ear. "Yours for eternity, Precious. Or as long as you'll have me."
"Eternity sounds good." She snuggled against him.
