He'd been sitting in Buffy's room for nearly 24 hours, and she still hadn't woken up. Dawn had joined him at first, but when she realized that Oliver wasn't going to leave until Buffy regained consciousness, she made it a point to bring him some food and drink.

Malcolm and Spike had finally returned from Nanda Parbat a few hours prior, and surprisingly—Tommy was the first one to greet his Father. The elder Merlyn had been surprised by his son's effusive hug, but when Tommy explained what had happened and how they'd seen everything that had transpired, Malcolm had been stunned...

...and then relieved.

Thea had even smiled at her biological father, and while she hadn't showed any physical affection at his return, she was no longer acting like she hated the man.

Malcolm figured this was probably the best he could hope for, under the circumstances.

When Faith had told Spike about Buffy, and her surprising reappearance—he'd made his way straight to her bedroom and found the Queen Heir keeping vigil at Buffy's bedside.

Spike wasn't an idiot, and he'd figured out fairly quickly that Buffy had slept with the poncey git and then something had happened that had left the Slayer feeling fragile and unsure.

It was a stark reminder of their time in Sunnydale and how much he hated seeing Buffy vulnerable.

So he'd done what he'd always done and punched the wanker right in the kisser.

Oliver just wiped the blood away from his cut lip, but hadn't fought back nor berated Spike for acting out. He'd just nodded and let it be, figuring he deserved Spike's wrath for hurting Buffy like he had.

As he watched Buffy sleep, Oliver felt the fractured parts of his soul heal themselves. He had spent so much time over the past six plus years feeling scared for the things he couldn't control, feeling guilt over the deaths of his Father and Sara as well as all the heinous things he had chosen to partake in to save himself and his family from retribution by Talia and Bane...but mostly he had felt broken inside. Afraid that if someone looked too closely at him, they'd discover his secrets and realize how unworthy he was for all the good things in his life.

He'd been a selfish young man—full of avarice and vanity. He'd taken what he'd wanted and never apologized to anyone he might've hurt along the way. He was the Prince of Starling City, the Golden Boy—and he'd relished in that role for years...

But facades have a way of crashing and burning and when they do, what's left is oftentimes a caricature of that well put together image.

Oliver had lived that life, had the world at his feet and he'd never appreciated a single thing given to him. He'd taken it for granted and felt entitled to it, because he'd not known how to be any different.

Pride before the fall...

...and he'd fallen...hard...

Now, he was more introspective and grateful—but he was also much angrier and distrusting.

And he didn't want to be that way!

He wanted to be brave and good—to have a life filled with fun, laughter and love.

He'd gotten a very small taste of it and truth be told, he craved more of it.

Sighing sadly, he shook his head and gripped Buffy's hand within his own as he kissed the back of her knuckles for the hundredth time, silently praying for her to wake up and give him a real chance to make things right.

"Oliver?"

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his Mom standing in the open doorway with a sympathetic expression on her face.

"No change?"

"None." He replied softly, as he set Buffy's hand down on the bed and turned fully to face his mother. "Faith mentioned it might be a while before Buffy comes to."

"Maybe you should go take a shower, get something to eat?"

"No," shaking his head, Oliver was adamant that he was going to stay where he was until Buffy woke up. "With my luck, she'll wake up when I leave and then I'll never get the chance to tell her how sorry I am."

"Oh, Oliver!" Moira moved into the room, and reached for her son...pulling him over to a small couch so she could sit with him. Oliver allowed it, and Moira kept ahold of his hand in solidarity. "Miss Summers is perhaps the strongest person I've ever known. She also seems to be one of the most forgiving too. I'm sure she will forgive you."

"I don't know, Mom," Oliver sighed, "I was such a jerk."

"Why?"

"Was I a jerk?"

"Yes."

Lifting his head up, Oliver's face scrunched as he considered the why's and wherefore's of his stupidity.

"I think I was scared? Coming home was hard, Mom. I never said anything about it, because I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"That if you knew what I've done—what I had to do to survive—you and Thea would look at me differently. Maybe see that I'm not a good person."

"Oh, Oliver—you are such a good man and a good son! You've faced hardships, it's true. You had to make horrible choices based on having nothing but horrid choices to choose from. I won't tell you not to feel guilty for what has transpired, but what I can tell you is to use those experiences and learn from them. Don't make the same mistakes twice. You're not the self-indulgent, spoiled boy you used to be. You've grown into a capable man, with a strong sense of right and wrong. You've protected your sister and I in the only way you knew how. How can I as a Mother, be upset with that?"

"You don't think I'm beyond redemption?"

"No, darling. I think you need to forgive yourself and vow to keep striving to do better." Moira smiled softly as she squeezed his hand lovingly. "You want to know what I think?"

"Sure, Mom."

Glancing over at the bed, Moira smirked when she noticed that Miss Summer's eyes were finally open and there were tears glistening in the lowlight.

"I think," Moira began gently, "that you realized you've found your other half and it initially terrified you."

With his back to Buffy, Oliver didn't see her eyes widen...but Moira did and she was pleased by the hopeful look on the young woman's face.

"You're right. I just want to be worthy of her, Mom." Shaking his head, Oliver coughed out a harsh laugh. "I just want to be strong enough for her. To stand beside her. I faltered—not because of her, but because of me."

"And now?"

"I feel like a complete and utter idiot."

A small huff of laughter brought Oliver up short and his head whipped around to the wide, clear hazel eyes of Buffy—who was now watching him warily.

"I'll leave you two alone." Moira patted her son's arm in parting. As she stood up, she nodded to Buffy and said sincerely, "I am very glad you survived your ordeal, Miss Summers. I must say, how impressed I am with your bravery and strength."

Buffy swallowed and nodded too, wheezing out a small "thank you" as her throat still felt a bit raw.

Oliver stood up quickly and moved over to grab a glass of water...holding it to Buffy's lips as his blue eyes held hazel ones, that were shining up at him.

"Thank you." She whispered out scratchily, "my throat is still sore."

"I can imagine." Oliver replied back softly, as he cupped the side of her head and allowed his hand to give a lingering caress, ending at her cheek.

As they continued to eye each other, their gazes moving back and forth—neither one noticed Moira leaving the room until the door clicked shut.

"How long?"

"Were you out?"

Buffy nodded.

"A day—more or less."

Buffy winced and she shuffled uneasily on the bed trying to get up, but Oliver set a firm hand on her arm and asked, "What do you need?"

"Bathroom?"

He smiled and then proceeded to lift her up into his arms, not asking for permission as he headed into the bathroom with an arm full of Buffy. As he set her down carefully, he queried, "do you want to take a bath?"

"A shower might be a better idea. I want to wash my hair?"

"Okay. I'll give you a few moments of privacy but a bath might be more relaxing and I'd be happy to wash your hair for you."

"Who says I want you to?"

Oliver blanched as he swallowed awkwardly and took a hesitant step back. His gaze lowered in shame, as he cleared his throat a few times.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. Truly. I should've never said what I did."

"But you did."

"I know."

"Were you telling your mom the truth?"

"Yes." No hesitation in his voice, just calm assuredness.

"You hurt me."

"I know, and I can't promise I won't again. But I can promise I will try to do better and be better and if I'm an ass again, you have my permission to respond accordingly."

"I'm not going to deck you, Oliver. Despite wanting very much to the other night."

"Fair trade."

Buffy huffed a snort and shook her head. "Not my style."

"What is?"

"Well, since you're not already dead, I can't exactly kill you. I suppose that doesn't leave me many options."

Grinning, Oliver couldn't believe how quick with the wit Buffy was—she really tried hard to allow things to roll off her—even when it hurt.

"Am I forgiven?"

"Nope."

"Oh?"

Buffy turned and as she did she waved him out. But before he reached the door, she offered, "Come and wash my back and hair after I'm done here. Maybe I'll be in a more forgiving mood after I've had a nice, hot bubble bath."

Tilting his head down to hide his grin, he just hummed in acquiescence and let Buffy be for a few moments until she called him back into the bathroom. She was sitting on a small stool, and she waved to the large tub like she was a queen sitting on her throne.

The irony wasn't lost on him.

Once the bath was drawn, Buffy stood shakily and went to undress. Oliver turned to give her a modicum of privacy, which had her giggling but when he heard her sigh of bliss, he turned back around and took in how heavenly she looked surrounded by a tub full of bubbles.

"That's an exquisite sight."

"Oh?"

"Mmhmm," Oliver reached for the hand towel and lathered it up—the smell of rose and jasmine permeating his nostrils as the delicate fragrance filled the bathroom. He gently pulled Buffy's long hair to the side and lathered up her back carefully, running his hands up and down her spine and smirking pleased, when she moaned out softly at his touch.

"How are you feeling?" The question was hesitant, and he wasn't sure if Buffy was ready to talk to him about what had happened. But surprisingly, she didn't seem adverse to speaking about it.

"Well, I'm better than I thought I'd be. What is it now? I've officially died four times now?"

Oliver growled out unhappily, but Buffy gazed over her shoulder and winked at him in amusement. "Wonder if I can get five for five?"

"That's not funny, Buffy." Pursing his lips, Oliver sighed heavily as he thought back on what had happened. "If I hadn't seen it, I don't think I would've believed it."

"Seen it?"

Sitting up slightly, Oliver's brow furrowed suddenly before he started mumbling to himself about what a colossal idiot he was. After a few moments watching him, as he lowly berated himself—Buffy coughed out his name to get his attention.

"Queen? What are you mumbling about?"

Buffy didn't think she'd ever seen Oliver Queen looking quite so...

...embarrassed...

...uncomfortable...

"Uhm, that blue demon?"

"D'Hoffryn?"

"Yeah, him...well, he had this orb thing and it allowed us to watch what happened in Nanda Parbat."

Her mouth dropped open in dismay, as she squeaked out, "Damn! All of it?"

"Yeah."

"Oh?"

"How much do you remember?" He asked, as he took a large basin from the side of the tub and filled it with warm water.

"I remember everything with perfect clarity up until I fell into the pit. It's a bit fuzzy after that."

"So you don't remember taking Ra's back to Lian Yu, or fighting off the Shadow Demon?"

Tilting her head in thought, Buffy honestly could say that her mind was still hazy on all the particulars.

"I don't remember all of it. It's probably for the best."

"Probably."

Buffy glanced up at him confused, but he just motioned for her to turn her head around so he could wash her hair.

Closing her eyes in bliss, Buffy relished in the peace of the moment. She had never had anyone take care of her like this. She wasn't used to being pampered, unless she was doing it for herself. But this...

...this, she could get used to...

And that took her aback a bit.

She forgave Oliver for his moment of weakness. She could well understand being scared and angry at the world. There were many times growing up in Sunnydale that she wanted to rage against the unfairness of her calling. It was something that had chosen her...not the other way around and yet she'd never shirked her duty. She had always done what needed to be done, even if it meant sacrificing her own life.

But now, things had changed.

She had changed.

The Slayer line would now live through her.

Prophecy dreams were funny things. She'd had enough experience with them over the years to know that they were rarely straightforward. But this last time, the dream had been more vivid and real than any other Slayer dream and the message had been crystal.

And that was why she'd leapt down the rabbit hole with Queen before she'd looked.

It was why she'd hoped for the first time in her life, that she might be able to have a real life...a happy life.

The kind of life that Faith had for herself—with Bruce.

Her mind's eye flashed to the one image that she hadn't been able to shake and she closed her eyes and held to that fleeting moment with a sense of cautious hope.

Seeds of yearning, longing, craving for something tangible. She'd spent the last fourteen years doing just that, but also knowing that as much as she'd wished for a different life...a simpler life...

...that wasn't her life.

"You're far away right now." Oliver murmured, as he rinsed the conditioner out of her hair.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Where I go from here."

Buffy felt Oliver's hands still for a brief second before he continued on with his ministrations, but his voice was unsure as he asked, "And where is that?"

"That's what I was trying to figure out. I might head back to London with Dawn and Giles."

Oliver didn't speak as he carefully rinsed out Buffy's hair. Part of him wondered if she was testing him, and another part of him understood that based on their recent history (his confession to his mother notwithstanding), Buffy had no reason to assume nor trust in a future with him.

As he finished his task, he grabbed a small towel and gently hand dried the ends of her hair—his mind whirring a mile a minute.

"What about Starling City?" He finally got out. "Would you be interested in spending some time there?"

Oliver felt her stiffen slightly, but her voice was light as she replied, "I've never really thought about it."

"Maybe you should."

"Why?" She glanced again over her shoulder, her gaze wary as she considered him.

"Well, I was hoping to take you out on that date I promised."

Biting her lip, Buffy felt her gut clenching at the cautiously hopeful expression on Queen's face. There was a part of her that really wanted to take Oliver up on his offer, but there was another part that wondered if they were truly ready for that step. As much as her heart had leaped at his confession to his Mom, Buffy had to wonder if Oliver Queen really wanted her long term. He seemed enamoured now, but what about six months from now? A year from now?

Would he still want her then?

Or would the excitement fade?

Or was this something even more unsavory?

Did he feel obligated?"

"I think," Buffy's voice halted as she turned back towards the wall and stared into nothing. She couldn't face Oliver for what she needed to say. "I think that right now what you're feeling seems right to you but maybe you won't feel that way in a few months, Oliver. When the excitement fades and all you're left with is just me...well..."

"Buffy..."

"No, it's totally cool if that's all this is. I get it. I've been there and done that but you were so quick to mistrust me and in my intentions and maybe it's because of your issues, but maybe it's because of me. I can't change who I am and I don't think you really have any..."

"Buffy...stop!" His voice was commanding as he came around and sat down in front of her so they could have this conversation properly. "I'm sorry for how I hurt you. I really am. It's not you...it's me."

"Heard that before." She mumbled, causing Oliver to crack a half-grin.

"I can't speak to your previous relationships, but I do know myself well enough to say that I want to try with you. I want to be with you."

"Until you don't."

"What can I say to convince you that's not going to happen?"

"You can't." Buffy sighed sadly. "I think we need time. Time to get to know each other but not date each other. Oliver, you've just gotten home less than two years ago and can you honestly say you've dealt with all your demons?"

Lips flattening in frustration, Oliver couldn't make that claim and Buffy knew it.

"How about a deal, Queen?"

"What kind of deal?"

"One year from today. During that time we keep in touch—talk...become friends, yeah? And if you decide you still want to try, I'll try with you."

"One year?"

"Yep. It'll give each of us time to figure some stuff out and maybe see if we can make this work. I mean, that's if you want this to work into something more than just shagging."

"Shagging?" Oliver chuckled. "Is that slang for sex?"

"Yep."

"Seems you know some British slang after all."

"Bullocks, shagging, git, prat...my vocab is extensive when it comes to the slang."

He snickered as his eyes took in the beauty in front of him. One year. She was essentially telling him if he wanted to be with her, he needed to get his shit together. Part of him wanted to scream that they didn't need to wait. That they could make it work right now, but there was a smaller part of him that knew that Buffy was right.

He needed to face his demons and learn to deal with his guilt.

He needed to learn to forgive himself.

"I don't like it, but I'll give you the year—Buffy Summers. One year from today, my club, Starling City."

Putting her hand out in front of her, Buffy quipped, "Shake on it?"

Oliver enveloped her hand within his own and pulled it up to kiss the back of her hand as he stared into her beautiful hazel eyes. He lifted his head up slightly, winked and replied firmly, "Deal."