Summary: Post Series. Spike disappears following the battle in LA and Buffy does her best to pick up the pieces and move on only to have all her work come crashing down once he stumbles back into her life.

G is for Gone

Darling I'm lost
Adrift in the dark
I'm clutching your words
To my vampire heart once more

So let in the light
Turn me to dust
If it don't end in Bloodshed dear
It's probably not love

Here we are
In the darkest place
My reflection
Shows only your face

Something is found
Something is lost
Went looking for clues
On the streets of old New York

And I spilled someone's blood
I broke someone's heart again
Someone you know
You're looking at him my friend

And the people in our lives
We all leave behind
Leave behind

Here we are
In the darkest place
To keep from forgetting
I picture your face

And I wonder
While we count the cost
Which is sweeter
Love or it's loss

So I curse you
My vampire heart
For letting me you love you

Love you
For letting me love you
From the start

-My Vampire Heart by Tom McRae

New York. The last time he'd been there he'd just finished off his second slayer. Nikki Wood. Yeah, New York was full of good memories. That's all they were though, memories. Distant times long faded from relevance. He'd changed so much since Nikki. Shifted and morphed into something so far from the Slayer of Slayers that it was almost laughable.

Shifted because of her. For her. He hadn't ever regretted his decision to get his soul, not even when he was burning up and turning to ash. Not even when he'd come back as a sodding ghost glued to the side of fuckin' captain forehead. He couldn't regret it because of those last few memories they'd shared in good ol' Sunnyhell. Those moments where she'd lowered her guard and finally let him in.

Hell he still didn't believe that she'd ever actually loved him, but she cared enough to see him off with the three words he'd most wanted to hear from her. He'd always be grateful for that. For her. Even now, when he could barely stomach the thought of her.

He sighed as he leaned against the rail of his balcony and gazed out at the bright city lights. New York. The city that never sleeps. God, how he loved that. Back in the day it had been because there was never any shortage of tasty little morsels just begging to be eaten. Now though, he loved it because the constant bustle of life from beyond his little flat was something of a companion to him. A reminder that even though he'd lost the girl he was, somehow, still alive. Well, alive in all the ways that mattered, anyway.

The air shifted, bending and molding to a new presence. "Hey Blue," he greeted dully without turning away from his view.

"This world is minuscule," she replied without ceremony.

Spike snorted and brought the glass of whiskey he'd held up to his lips. "Can seem so from time to time, I s'pose," he agreed.

They'd been the only survivors. Him, Angel and Blue. Charlie had kicked it not long after they'd entered the alley to face off against the hordes of hell. Spike had felt the lance of sorrow, he'd rather liked the lawyer, as he'd watched him fall from a distance away. After that he'd lost track of everything and everyone except whatever beastie he was up against.

The tide had started to turn suddenly and he hadn't realized why until he found himself back to back with none other than the brunette beauty he'd bonded with the previous year.

Two Years Earlier

"My invite to your little shindig must've gotten lost in the mail," she yelled out as she brought her sword up and decapitated the demon she'd been facing off with.

"Sorry, luv. Ran out of stamps," he replied with an exulted laugh as he pushed away the fugly horned demon that was trying to shish kabob him.

She laughed and gave him a friendly push as they found themselves in a momentary pocket of peace. "You're gonna be so dead when B sees you're not dead," she told him with a glint of disbelief in her doe eyed gaze.

He gave one of his waspish smirks even as his stomach clenched at the thought of her. "Might be dead a mite sooner than that," he'd replied with wink and a devil-may-care grin as he shoved her aside and tackled the ugly that had been about to pummel her.

He'd heard her laugh and the telltale sounds of flesh pounding flesh as she joined him back in the fray. He'd lost her for a time after that. The air had shifted not long after the cavalry had arrived and Spike felt the familiar tendrils of magic pulse throughout the alley. "Guess Red decided to show up," he muttered as he pulled his sword out of another corpse.

He turned to find his next victim just in time for them to all disappear, leaving only the corpses in their wake. He looked out at the blood soaked, water flooded alley, at the girls scattered around looking confused as their battles abruptly ended. He caught sight of Faith, chest heaving and manic grin firmly in place. His gaze met Illyria's, the blue she-god looking wholly intact save for the glint of sorrow in her normally inscrutable gaze. Wesley, the second of the fallen.

His eyes searched out the body of the third. Charles Gunn, faithful 'til the end. He found him and the poof at once, Angel standing over the body of his longtime friend and Spike felt a spark of sympathy for his grandsire.

It died once he caught sight of the blonde slip of a slayer. His slayer. She murmured something to the dull dolt before embracing him and upping the vomit inducing moment by laying a giant kiss on the gits lips. He knew that she thought he was dead but it still felt like a stake to the heart. Especially when he considered that she likely would have made the same move even had she known he was alive. After all, his presence hadn't stopped her during Angel's last visit to Sunnydale.

He sighed and forced his eyes away from the lip locked duo. He caught Faith's eyes again and this time they shown with pity as she gave him an apologetic shrug. He conjured his best smirk before walking over towards Illyria. "Okay, Blue?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"This vessel feels...empty," she told him blandly but, knowing her as well as he did, he could pick up on the tones of desperation and confusion buried within it.

"Not so sure that's the vessel feeling that way, luv," he told her, barely able to hide his wince at referring to Fred in such a clinical way.

"Spike!" a voice suddenly called out loudly and Spike turned on his heel to see a brunette blur flying out of the side of a van and launching herself towards him.

"Hey nibblet," he said fondly as she collided into his arms, knocking him back a step. He almost didn't hear Buffy then, her gasp and the whisper of his name on the breeze, but he did and he tensed up when it reached his sensitive ears.

"I do not wish to be here any longer," Illyria's voice rang out from behind him, reminding him that he'd been mid conversation with her. "It is too…" she trailed off and Spike sighed as he pulled away from Dawn for a moment.

"Hold on, pet," he muttered to the teenager before turning back to the godking. "Where will you go?"

She looked pensive the moment but a moment before she opened her mouth to respond the air shifted again and Spikes eyes widened as a surviving demon with a rather large spear rose up and sliced through Illyria, the force of the impalement forcing the spear into Spike's chest before he could move. He reached behind him, almost without thought and shoved Dawn further away from them as a cacophony of voices yelled out in horror.

His widened eyes met Illyria's just a moment before a blinding light encompassed them. When he blinked his eyes open again they were standing somewhere else. A different world if Spike had to guess. It smelled different, ancient and empty.

The demon that had skewered them was gone and with a grunt Spike broke the center of the shaft that was still holding him and Illyria together before pulling it out of his chest with a pained roar. The blighter had just barely missed his heart.

By the time the pain stopped flashing through his red hazed gaze Illyria had already rid herself of the other half of the spear and was looking around with a distant interest.

"Where the bloody hell are we?" he gasped out.

"I do not know," she replied unconcernedly.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Okay, well how the fuck do we get back?" he demanded.

Illyria's eyes, solemn and serious, met his again. "I do not know."

Now

They'd been trapped there in that other dimension for eight months before Illyria had managed to regain enough juice to zap them back to their own dimension. It had been vast, boring and desolate and he had only managed to survive off the blood of these weird giant rabbit lizard things that tasted bloody horrible but necessary. In that time he'd had no one but the primordial god and she'd had no one but him.

They'd bonded a bit as they each dealt with the deaths of their prospective loves. Wesley for her, the man who, like the woman who's body she had usurped, she had grown feelings for. Buffy for him, and the loss of the possibility of what they could have had.

When they'd appeared back in that alley, eight months after she'd originally teleported them away from danger- an action she hadn't even considered before making- they'd made their way to the nearest safe place they could think of. Angel's old hotel.

Sixteen months Earlier

He should have been prepared for it after being gone so long but it was still a blow when they'd come face to face with a laughing Buffy and grinning Angel mid flirtation. A quick glance around had showed him how homey the previously empty hotel had become in their absence. The warm lighting and casual throw pillows. The framed pictures of the pair of them smiling at each other.

"Spike!" Buffy had gasped, eyes becoming as large as saucers as he and Blue stumbled through the door.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said flatly. "Just got back from our little vacation and needed a place to hole up before sunrise," he said as he looked anywhere but at them. Unfortunately for him them seemed to be everywhere judging by all the sodding photographs.

"Where have you two been?" Angel asked in astonishment. "We thought you'd died.

Illyria tilted her head. "Why?" she asked simply.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Probably because we'd just been run through with a giant bloody spear, pet," he reminded her impatiently.

"Vampires turn to ash when they die," she told the slayer and her vampire blandly.

Buffy and Angel exchanged a glance and Spike's stomach churned at the familiar ease between them. "You disappeared before...and Willow couldn't find you anywhere," Buffy replied softly, her eyes searching out Spike's but he deftly avoided her gaze.

He frowned suddenly as something occurred to him and he tilted his head, eyes zeroing in on his grandsire. "Do you have a heartbeat, mate?"

Silence encompassed them as the room fell still. "Yes," Illyria said as she studied the great poof. "He is more fragile than before," she confirmed.

"Hey!" Angel said, taking offense.

Buffy cleared her throat, her eyes still locked on Spike. "He sand shoed," she answered him quietly. "After the battle in the alley where you guys…" she trailed off.

"Shanshu," Angel corrected quietly, shifting uncomfortably at the tension in the air.

Spike nodded. "Right. Cheers to that then," he said with a strained voice.

"Where have you been?" Buffy asked, repeating Angel's earlier question.

Spike shrugged as Illyria answered. "A different dimension," she told them obscurely.

"Oh," the slayer breathed out.

"Yeah," Spike replied distantly.

"I am discomfited," Illyria let them know.

Spike snorted. "Join the sodding club, luv," he grunted.

Now

He'd made himself scarce shortly after that, Illyria following after him as they bunked down in one of the many rooms of the hotel. He'd snuck out at the first sign of sunset, leaving before the slayer could corner him as he knew she was itching to do.

It had been too much at the time. Nearly a year of isolation in a vast, empty world where he'd had no one but an emotionally stunted godking followed by an unwanted shock to his system when he'd come back home just to immediately stumble into his worst nightmare.

Buffy had tracked him down, of course.

Sixteen Months Earlier

"Spike," her voice rang out behind him.

"Sorry slayer, didn't leave any for you," he said as he took a drag off the cigarette he'd nicked and gestured casually towards the piles of dust scattered throughout the cemetery.

"I don't care about that," came her fiery reply as she clutched his arm and forced him to turn towards her.

"Did you just come to catch up, then?" he asked nonchalantly, fortifying his raffish mask and tilting his head as he studied her.

"I thought you were dead," she told him.

"So you said," he agreed with a nod.

"You never told me you came back," she accused, eyes flashing.

Spike frowned in confusion and raised a brow. "Did you miss the part where I stumbled in on you and the poof frolicking through the foyer?" he asked incredulously.

Buffy had the audacity to roll her eyes. "Not this morning," she grit out. "You came back after Sunnydale. Out of the amulet and you stayed with Angel. You never even called me."

Spike shrugged. "Would there have been a point to it?" he asked her.

Buffy's eyes widened in shock. "Would there have…what the hell do you think?" she demanded. "How would you have felt if I had come back from the dead and purposefully kept that from you?"

"Like you'd have ripped my heart out and stomped on it," he replied, not entirely sure what her point was.

"Exactly!" she said victoriously.

"You're forgetting something pet," he told her with a shake of his head.

"And what's that," she asked, eyes flashing dangerously.

"I'm in love with you," he replied simply.

She reeled back as though he'd slapped her. "You really didn't believe me?" she asked, voice small and hurt.

"I believe that whatever you felt doesn't matter now. It's pretty fucking obvious that you and Captain Forehead are living your happily ever bloody after," he said, cursing himself as hurt and anger entered his tone.

"That's not fair," she breathed out, voice trembling and eyes filling with water. "I thought you were dead."

"And if you hadn't? If I hadn't disappeared from the alley before Angel turned into a real boy? You telling me you wouldn't have still chosen him?" he demanded.

"I—" she cut herself off, looking helplessly lost.

"That's what I thought," he said with a decisive nod.

Now

"I miss the other world," Illyria said as she came up beside him.

Spike snorted as he took another sip of his whiskey. "You would," he replied teasingly. They fell quiet as they stared out at the blinking city lights. He had left Los Angeles that night after he and Buffy had trudged back to the hotel. She had set him up with Dawn's number before he'd set out, unable to answer her questions of where he would go.

Illyria had silently followed him out, a bonded pair the two of them. He'd settled in New York for the time, all the way across the country from her but not so far that he couldn't quickly reach her if she needed him. Ilyria bounced around wherever she chose but frequently found her way back to his flat.

They didn't need much conversation, the two of them. They knew each other too well for that. It was an odd feeling for Spike, who had always felt the need to fill the silence. Something had shifted in him during their eight months of isolation. The quiet didn't make him uncomfortable anymore.

He spoke with Dawn on a near daily basis. Laughing when she complained about Angel, consoling her when she was having boy trouble "What's his name? I'll rip his heart out and feed it to him." he always offered, never failing to make her giggle. He knew that she thought she needed to make amends for the way she'd reacted towards him that last year in Sunnydale. He hoped that he'd made it clear that she had nothing to be sorry for.

He tried not to think of Buffy. Of the image of her and Angel kissing and laughing but it was burned into his memory and there was little reprieve from it. It burned at him and he cursed himself. Cursed himself for loving her, for losing himself to her.

"I love you." he'd hung onto those words once upon a time. After he'd popped up out of the amulet a ghost. He'd clutched those words like a bloody lifeline, hanging on to the hope of them as he fought to keep a foothold in the corporeal world.

It had been so much easier to believe she could have been telling him the truth when seeking her out wasn't an option. He'd proven as much when he'd gotten his solidity back and had unconsciously seized any excuse to stay away, too much of a sodding coward to face her rejection in the face of his continued survival.

Angel's curse had been lifted, his chains broken when humanity had settled over him. In it's place chains had settled around Spike. Cursing him to love and never have, as such was his long storied history with Angelus. Yeah, he cursed himself for a lot of things but mostly, he cursed himself for loving her from the start.

~BTVS~

Buffy sat on the floor of the shower stall, arms wrapped tightly around her legs as she stared blankly at the shower wall. Today marked two full years. Two years since she and her gaggle of slayers had crashed Angel's party in the alley. Two years since they'd saved the world yet again. Two years since she'd heard her little sister screaming out the name of the man whose death she'd mourned.

She had just decided to ask Angel if he wanted to try again. To see if he was ready for a plate of cookies. She had convinced herself that she needed to move on, that Spike was dead and he wasn't coming back. She didn't question the fact that the only way she could figure out to move on was by revisiting the past.

Then she'd seen him, her eyes tracking her sister as she flew into his arms. Her wide eyes briefly catching Faith's pitying gaze before they raked over his very solid, very not dead form. Then it was too late. A demon rose up from out of nowhere and ran him and the blue woman he'd turned to talk to through. She barely heard herself yell out in fear as blood dripped down to the pavement and he flung her sister away before she could sustain any more injury than a small gash.

Faith was running towards them even as Buffy felt herself still frozen in shock and horror. She'd just about managed to snap herself out of it, her foot twitching like it was about to make a move, when a bright light emanated out of the blue woman and encompassed the skewered pair. Then they were gone.

Just like that. Just...gone.

She'd demanded that Willow find them, begging her friend to find him. Then Angel had collapsed and they'd thought that it was a punishment. Retaliation towards the group that had dared go up against the Senior Partners. Spike and Illyria- Buffy had found out the blue woman was called- vanished and Angel unconscious.

Then he'd coughed, his chest rising and falling and his heart beating. No, it wasn't a punishment but a reward. He'd become human. Her younger self's biggest dream come to fruition.

Willow searched for three months with no luck in finding any trace of what had happened to Spike. Everyone told her that the wooden spear had gone through his chest, that he'd likely dusted as soon as they'd disappeared. That they were sorry, but he was dead. After a while she had convinced herself that they were right. She had convinced herself that it was okay to chase down her childhood dream.

She'd moved in with Angel. Dawn had never liked the former vampire so she'd elected to stay in her boarding school in Rome rather than move back to Los Angeles.

For five months Buffy had convinced herself that she was happy. She'd made the Hyperion her home, bought tons of discount frames and put up pictures of her and Angel all throughout the hotel. Until sixteen months ago when he had stumbled into the building and back into her life.

She'd never forget the look of betrayal that had flashed through his eyes when he'd taken in the sight of a domestic Buffy and Angel. The bitter smirk when he'd realized that Angel had earned his prophecy. That sad, knowing glint that had taken up residence in his gaze when he concluded that she had gotten everything that she'd ever wanted.

He'd left quickly, too quickly. She was still experiencing whiplash, no time to recover before he was gone again. This time of his own freewill. He had asked her if she would have made a different choice if he hadn't disappeared and she had hesitated too long. Not wanting to break his heart but also not wanting to diminish what she'd been trying to develop with Angel.

She got updates from Dawn. "He's in New York...I could give you his address." Her little sister would tempt. Other times she would berate her. "I don't know what the hell you're thinking Buffy. You don't love Angel...not like you used to."

Her conversations with Faith weren't all that different. "You know I love the big guy, B. Thing is, I think you love him like I do." She had told her once a couple weeks after Buffy had let everyone know that Spike was back. After she had sent out a massive memo to all the new little slayers promising a painful death to any of them that so much as thought about staking him. "Got your memo...funny how we didn't all get one back when Angel was a souled up vamp." Her sister slayer had very strongly hinted.

Buffy sighed and blinked, a tear mingling with the water as it dripped down her face. She tucked her head down and leaned it against her knees.

~BTVS~

It was a hard pill to swallow. For a few glorious months he'd gained everything he'd once thought he'd wanted. He proved himself worthy by receiving the Shanshu, he'd won the woman he'd loved for nearly a decade and he'd managed to still feel useful by continuing Angel Investigations, albeit in a diminished capacity given his new handicap. It had been okay though because he had a group of slayers by his side. He had the slayer by his side and they were in love.

It had been hard, especially the first few months, grappling with the loss of everything he'd built the last five years in the city of angels. He'd lost Cordelia, Fred, Wes and Gunn all in the course of a few months. Lorne had left and he hadn't been seen or heard from since. He had made a clean break from Nina, it was the only fair thing to do given his state of mind at the time, and the tentative promise of Buffy. Then there was Spike. Spike, who had been the thorn in his side for one hundred and twenty years. Spike, who was family. Spike, who he was increasingly sure that Buffy really had loved. That the bleached menace had somehow managed to become more than just 'in her heart'.

He knew immediately that things had changed when Spike and Illyria came crashing back into their lives over a year ago. Buffy had never told him what she and Spike had talked about but whatever it had been had affected her deeply and she hadn't been able to let it go even after he'd long been gone.

She'd tried though and Angel appreciated the effort even as it cut him down. That he wasn't what she wanted anymore, that he couldn't keep up with her anymore. Most of all, it hurt him how unhappy he knew she really was even as she painted on that wide grin that never reached her eyes anymore.

He stood there, after sharing one last passionate night with her, and tried not to choke on his words as he set her free. Tried not to walk it back as her shocked eyes filled with tears. Tried not to drown himself in alcohol after she'd kissed him goodbye and walked out of his life, bag and plane ticket in hand. His human constitution didn't allow for nearly as much drinking as he felt the situation called for.

~BTVS~

It had been a full day but Buffy could swear her ears were still ringing from when Dawn had squealed loudly in it after she'd called and asked for Spike's address. She stood outside his building now. She'd heard from Dawn that he'd set himself up a nice little life there, working as a bouncer at a demon bar and keeping the streets as demon free as one individual could.

She'd been blindsided when Angel had sat her down and suggested they end things. That he let her go so she could be with Spike. She'd felt terrible for how obvious she'd been and for hurting him. She would always love Angel, he was a part of her. He didn't consumer her anymore though and now that she knew that Spike was out walking the earth again she couldn't fool herself into believing otherwise any longer.

She sucked in a deep breath before walking into the building and taking the elevator down to the basement floor and wandering the halls until she found the number that corresponded with the one on the piece of paper she held in her hand.

With her heart in her throat and her stomach on the ground she raised her fist and knocked.

XXX

Illyria had toddled off to some other corner of the world a few days ago so Spike found himself alone again when a knock rang out through his flat. He frowned as he tried to figure out who would come calling on him.

The knock sounded again and he threw on a red button up over his naked torso as he walked to the door. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered as he firmly swung it open. His heart dropped and his eyes widened as they raked over his blonde slayer. "Buffy," he breathed out in surprise.

"Hey," she said, her eyes wandering over him, slowing a bit as she took in his barely covered chest. He was silent too long he realized as she shifted from heel to heel. "Um...can I come in?" she asked timidly.

Spike felt a brow shoot up. "You're asking? How novel," he teased as he opened the door a bit wider.

Buffy grinned and lightly shoved at him. "Shut up." Followed by. "I knocked too, did you notice?"

Spike laughed and he was surprised how how genuine it was and easily it came. "Yeah, who are you and what've you done with the real slayer?" he joked back. He couldn't help but notice her relax a bit as things seemed to flow smoothly between them.

"Which one?" she bantered back as she closed the door behind them. "There are so many these days."

He chuckled a bit as he walked towards the bar, his hands were shaking a bit and he'd decided that a glass of whiskey was needed. "Drink?" he offered without looking back at her.

"Sure," she replied and he could hear the nerves in her voice. "This is a nice place," she complemented.

"Bit more posh than my crypt, eh?" he replied as he turned back and handed her a tumbler of whiskey.

"Yeah," she breathed out.

Spike tilted his head and studied her. "So, to what do I owe this visit, Slayer? Need help with some big nasty?"

"No," she replied, tone firm. "No, no slayer stuff," she said with a shake of her head as she took a sip of her drink and ran a hand through her long blonde locks.

"Okay…?" he prodded questioningly.

"Two years ago I decided to move forward by going backwards," she burst out. "See, I'd had this insane idea that I was finally cookies and since you were dead so I went to the only other person who I thought I'd want to eat them."

Spike had to admit that he was completely lost. "Have you gone totally sack of hammers?" he asked her incredulously.

Buffy huffed out a breath and shook her head. "I don't know what that means but look, there was this horrible metaphor that I used back in Sunnydale to make Angel go away. It was this whole thing. The point is that I thought I was ready to settle down. I wasn't the only slayer anymore, I could finally live a life but I didn't know how to move on from you. So I went back to my roots."

"Angel," he translated with a sharp nod.

"Yeah. I had already been thinking about it and then when word reached us about the impending apocalypse it seemed like a good time. You know, assuming we all survived," she explained as she slumped down on his couch, watching the amber liquid in her glass as she swished it around.

"No one had told me you were alive. You didn't tell me. I'd have been in L.A. a lot sooner if I had known," she told him, her tone far away, lost in memories. He slowly moved closer, sitting down in a chair across from her. His stomach was in knots and if his heart could beat he was fairly certain it'd be racing.

"Then the battle was won and Dawn was screaming your name. Your name. I barely had time to so much as think 'what?' before you and Illyria were just gone. I didn't give up right away, you know. I had Willow and her coven in Europe chasing down every possible lead on where you could be for months. You were no where and none of us could even be sure that you hadn't dusted from the spear as you disappeared."

Spike grimaced as he thought about everything from her perspective. "Buffy…" he trailed off. What could he say for himself? He hadn't exactly done himself any favors by not letting the chit know he wasn't actually as dead as she'd thought.

"Eventually I had to give up and move on again. And this time Angel was human and there just seemed like there wasn't a reason left to not try. That's what I was doing when you and Illyria crashed into the hotel that morning. Trying not so much with the succeeding."

He cocked his head. "Why?" he wondered.

Buffy shrugged. "I think we were just too different by then. It had been a decade, I wasn't a kid anymore and he wasn't some big mystery that I was dying to solve. Don't get me wrong, I love Angel and a part of me always will and as much as I wish some things had happened differently I also think they had to happen a certain way so the question of 'what if' wasn't always hanging over us," she mused and Spike marveled at how much she'd matured. Sure, he'd been around to witness much of it, watch her grow from an adolescent teen to a strong, independent woman. He'd never thought he'd witness her shedding her childhood idolization of his grandsire though.

She snapped her attention back to him. "Then you came stumbling back into my life and I knew it wasn't enough. It couldn't be. You left again though before I could really process everything and I felt like I had to keep trying. Angel was and it was a bigger effort than he'd ever made before so I thought that maybe...maybe I was wrong and it could be enough."

"What changed then?" he questioned.

"Nothing. Nothing changed," she told him, sorrow sparkling brightly in her eyes. "That was the problem."

"I'm sorry, pet," he told her.

She shook her head again, "I'm not. The question of me and Angel is answered and now there's only one question I have left."

"What's that?" he wondered, cursing the bit of hope he felt burning up deep within his gut.

"What happens if you and I give it a shot? A real shot. Public and healthy. If we pick up from where we were heading that last year in Sunnydale because I wasn't lying that day, Spike. I love you. I love you and I never stopped, not after you died the first time or the second time or in the sixteen months since you came back," she told him with a sincerity that stole his breath.

He barely heard the ring of the phone, distantly aware of it as he processed the words he'd spent years longing to hear from the slayer. His slayer.

He moved robotically, never taking his eyes off the blonde beauty across from him as he picked up the phone and listened to the familiar voice on the other end. "Yeah, bit," he replied. "Big sis made it just fine, we're just about to answer a question she has," he told her before clicking of the phone and cutting short her excited squeals, he was sure that she wouldn't take offense.

Buffy just smiled widely at him as he set the phone back down, their eyes still locked.

~BTVS~

Life had been good since moving to New York. Spike had settled into a more stable person than she'd thought him capable of. He no longer had that frantic energy following him everywhere. That's not to say he wasn't as passionate as ever, he was just...tempered.

He was quieter and it took some adjusting but what Buffy had finally realized was that this was a Spike that had discovered who he was outside of her. He'd had to for most of the years since he'd won his soul and he'd done it with that grace that she'd always been envious of. His relationship with Illyria took some adjusting. It wasn't sexual in nature, although he hadn't made it a secret that during their isolation in the other dimension the two beings hadn't exactly been celibate.

She believed him, though, when he told her that they hadn't hooked up once they'd gotten back. They each had different tastes when there was an actual choice. Instead Illyria was to Spike what Willow was to Buffy. A best friend. A very strange, other worldly best friend but one nonetheless.

It had taken some getting used to but she was no longer surprised when the blue godking popped in and made herself comfortable inside Spike's apartment. The initial jealously had faded and now Buffy just found herself intrigued by the other woman. She reminded her a bit of Anya and she kind of thought that Spike felt the same.

Together she and Spike patrolled the streets of New York, traveled the world on council business and for leisure. He showed her all his favorite places the world had to offer and they discovered new favorite places as a team. Her relationship with Angel was still in a recovery phase. They coordinated when needed and kept each other more or less in the loop. Astonishingly he was closer to and spoke more frequently to Spike these days than he did her.

It was a strange little family she'd built for herself. There was a long time where she would have never considered it possible to be madly in love with the vampire who had once been the bane of her existence, where she'd never believed there was the slightest chance in hell that one of the people she was closest to in the world was Faith or that she'd be able to operate just fine outside the tight nit group that had for so long made up the Scoobies. They were all still friends, they just weren't all up in each others business anymore. They were healthy and supportive.

The answer to the question was 'good things'. The best things. That's what would and did happen when she and Spike gave it a shot. She had wondered for a long time, they both had, if it was worth what it had cost them. If it was worth loving each other only to lose each other time and time again. In the end her answer was resolute and resounding.

Yes.