Five:  OUT WITH THE OLD

The sun had set on a very long and emotional day.

Spike had shared the tale of his quest and exposed some of the effects of his newly acquired humanity.  Buffy had suffered a little public embarrassment trying to fight a would-not-be evil mechanical bug and felt the sting of rejection at the thought Spike no longer loved her. Together they would renew some of the physical closeness they once shared as they rode a whirlwind of passion and tenderness that made each of them ache for want of more.

And now Buffy was slowly climbing the stairs to her bedroom, clinging to the warm hand of the man that everything-inside-her-was-telling-her-she-loved... the man she loved.  I can't believe this is real...  That Spike is alive... alive and here with me.  That he still cares about me.  Loves me.  In spite of all the awful things I said to him...  In spite of all the bruises and beatings... He loves me.  She took a cleansing breath to fight the tears forming in her eyes at her feeling of joy.

Spike followed, bound not only to his beloved by hands but by the adoration of his heart yearning for hers.  As he reached the landing, his apprehension of what might come to pass as they crossed over the threshold to Buffy's room weighed heavily upon him.  Buffy, I hope you know what you're doing.  I won't be able to resist temptation a second time, he worried.

Pushing wide the door to her room, she ushered him to sit on the edge of her bed.

Her bed... The tension was thick; his anticipation, overwhelming.

She released his hand, his strong warm hand... and stepped back, turning to her closet.

As Buffy crouched --- perhaps to pull something from the floor on the closet --- Spike studied the arch of her still bare golden back; the feminine curve of her hip; her tight yet shapely ass. Locked in his stare, he startled when she jumped up suddenly.  Clearly he'd been distracted by the glorious walking-tour his eyes had taken down Buffy's well-formed body because he hadn't even noticed she'd put on a light sweater.

She stood before him now, eyes gleaming, lips curling into the hint of a grin.  "I've got something for you."  Her tone threw him: not seductive... more. giddy, like a kid at Christmas as she held out a rather large and battered gift box.

Accepting it, he purposefully brushed his hands over hers before taking the box and placing it beside himself on the bed.  He removed the lid then huffed with a smirk, knowing on sight what the box contained.  Lifting it by the collar as he rose to his feet, he pulled out his old familiar black leather duster.  He whipped the coat around and slid it over his bare torso in an almost dizzying flash of ebony and ivory.  Beaming, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.  It smells of her:  so sweet and enticing.

As she looked at him, Buffy reflected on the many times in the weeks after he'd gone that she put on the duster --- late at night, when she'd awoken from a dream of him. missing him. Wearing his coat, she was able to imagine he was near with the robust blend of scents --- old leather, cigarette smoke, blood, sweat and booze --- hypnotizing her into the belief that she was wrapped in his embrace.  Not the most appealing combination, she thought now, but while he was away it made her feel closer to him.  That's weird:  he doesn't smell like that anymore, she realized. 

"Spike? Have you quit smoking?"

"Where did that come from?" he asked, though he was pleased that she'd noticed.  Spike had indeed given up cigarettes.  In part for Buffy, whom he knew was never really thrilled by them but also for himself.  Once he'd had a chance to adjust to the idea of his new life, he thought he'd better make the most of it, try to stay healthy.  He figured he was going to have to work pretty hard now to keep up with his Slayer physically.  Though he was well aware that her strength would now be far beyond his own, he'd be damned if he let himself be beaten by anyone or anything else.  He still wanted to do all he could to help keep her safe... to watch her back... and her front... and her top... and her bottom.  He felt a twinge of pride in what he'd done.

"Gee, it's... ah... getting kinda late and I'm starved.  Want to see what we can dig up in the kitchen?" she asked, adding jokingly, "And by that I don't mean in any sort of literal sense."  Hey, this is Sunnydale.  People are always digging stuff up.

Spike slipped off the coat and traded it for his T-shirt, then followed her out to the hall.

As they headed back downstairs she suggested slyly, "I think a little shopping might be in order."