Disclaimer: Yada Yada Yada. Not mine, blah blah, wish they were :-)

Feedback: Please!

Distribution: If you want it, just ask. melissasmailbox@yahoo.com.au

Timeline: After Xander and Anya's Wedding.

Spoilers: Through 6.16 as at the airing of DoubleMeat Palace. Don't read if you are Of the Unspoiled Persuasion!

Thanks: To the numerous people who helped me with this one - Steph, Ophelia, Alanna and Les :-) (both for the betas and for holding my hand when I needed a bit of encouragement)

Note: This is a response to Ancientlady's Toby Keith challenge on the BTVS-TabulaRasa list ( http://www.btvs-tabularasa.net )

Rating: PG-13? It's not smutty :-)

The knock on the door of his crypt startled him. Sliding the letter he was writing into a book, he stood, checked to be sure he had a weapon within reach, then called, "Come in."

The door opened slowly. She was a vision, even in that particular shade of green that never failed to remind him of handkerchiefs and rags the winter his mother had had pneumonia. With its seven deep ruffles, the dress was long enough to have been worn in his mother's days - even modest enough. Trust the ex-demon to make sure her bridesmaid' looks wouldn't upstage hers. Her hair was curled, making her look almost elfin, although the high ruffled neck was perhaps more like a choirboy's than a sprite's. A green rose was tucked behind one ear.

He frowned, looking behind her, wondering what had brought her.

"Buffy?"

She closed the door behind her, dropping the matching strappy sandals on the step behind her.

"Spike."

He waited as she came into the room, then flopped onto his sofa. She grimaced as one of the ruffles caught on something, pulled it out of the way and revealed a hint of ankle. She bunched her knees up, wrapping her arms around them.

She looked cold, and young (must have been that ridiculous hair, he thought), and more than a little lost. He smiled sadly.

"Can I get you a - ,"
"I just wanted to - ," they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry," she said, and they both knew she meant more than just the speaking thing.
"What were you -."

He relaxed. She wasn't slipping back into her old habits, or so it seemed. Her first apology; should be a red letter day. Best not rub it in, though, or she might run. Again.

"You look cold, love. Buffy. Can I get you a blanket?"

She looked surprised, rubbed her arms. "Yes. Thank you. That would be -."

He tucked one around her, careful not to touch her, not to get too close, not to gaze at all he had lost and all - he hoped - she had regained. He rocked back on his heels, moving to sit at the other end of the couch.

"So what brings you to this neck of the woods, Slayer?" He raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to one side

She twitched, skittish, tensing. "This was a bad idea. I should just - ."

"No." It came out louder than he expected, and he modulated his voice. "No, Buffy. Whatever you came for, I'm here. I said I wasn't going anywhere, and I'm not. If you need me, I'll be here."

She smiled wryly. Seemed almost friendly. "Alone, too. I'm sorry about your date."

"Forget it," he replied. "It was a dumb idea in the first place. I should've just gone alone, or not gone in the first place. Whoever heard of a vampire at a wedding, anyway?" He smiled gently at her, "Though there was one time I ate - ."

She smiled. Not much, but she smiled.

"No. We - They - You - ." She started again, "Anya and Xander wanted you there. It was ... nice that you -."

He watched, waiting for her to go on. He could sit and watch her for hours.

"I've still got some of that fancy water you like," he said, "Left over from -."

She grimaced. "I think I'd prefer something stronger."

"Not givin' you that again, pet," he replied with a smile, "Not after last time."

"I suppose you're right," she said. "Maybe I will have that water after all."

He pulled it out of the fridge, noting absently that this was the last bottle of the dozen he'd bought two months ago. At the time, he'd wondered whether she'd even be back to see him.

She sipped slowly from the bottle, watching him warily. He took a beer from the fridge then went back to the couch, facing her slightly, one leg crossed over his knee. She sat, staring at the water bottle, thinking about something. He waited, just as he always did.

"So how'd it all go?" he asked finally. "Wedding all successful?"

She grimaced.

"Not exactly," she shuddered. "I so don't want to talk about it. There was a big no on the actually getting married, though." She shook her head, a puzzled expression on her face as she rubbed the bruise on her upper arm. "I think Xander's aunt hit me with her purse."

He grinned, "Sounds interesting. So where are they now?"

"We persuaded the demons to - Oh. Xander and Anya?"

He nodded.

"Well Anya's back at the apartment with her demon friend Halfrek. I asked if she wanted me to come back but she said she'd be fine. And no-one knows where Xander's got to. Dawn's staying with Tara and Willow's trying to track him down."

"And you're here." He heard the hope in his voice, tried to stifle it, to pretend unconcern.

She worried at her lower lip with her teeth, unable to meet his gaze. Wondered how she was going to say this, whether she should just go, and leave him in peace.

"I - We - ..." She grimaced, "I'm not big on the whole sentence-y part tonight. But we need to talk, Spike."

She looked down at the bottle with the once-attached label that her fingers were systematically shredding.

He bit back the rejoinder that sprang too readily to his lips. Hadn't he been trying to get her to talk for weeks? Hoping that she would open up - knowing that, if only she would, things could be so much better between them.

"Buffy, if you need -."

She burst in again,
"With all the - the demon egg stuff, and Riley coming back, I treated you really badly. I was so worried about the way I felt that I couldn't see what I was doing to you. And then, when I did, instead of seeing that it was me, I thought it was you, and I blamed you for doing what I had expected you to do all along."

She reached out her hand, nearly touched his, then pulled back, crossing her arms tightly. Watching him. Watching him watching her.

"I told myself it was - well I convinced myself that we had to break up and that it was all wrong, when really it was me that was wrong, and - oh I don't know how to say this and I'm doing it all wrong -."

"I think you're -."

"And those things I did to you - back with the Katrina thing, thinking I'd killed that girl. Blaming you."

She stood abruptly and crossed to the fridge, taking a sip of the water, looking anywhere but at him. Rearranged some glasses, stacked a couple of books. Looking anywhere but at him. Knowing she had to look at him. Feeling his gaze. She started to pace back and forth as she continued,

"Spike, I've known you for so long, but I still don't really know you. I'd like to fix that. I'd like you to tell me about your life. I've been calling you those terrible names, blaming you for everything that is wrong with my life, even beating you up. I didn't want to look past what I knew you were." She broke off, sniffled, wiped her eyes with the edge of one of her ruffles.

"You know, tonight at the wedding, the human guests behaved much worse than the demons. It made me think - it made me realise - I'm so sorry, Spike." She looked directly at him, tears in her eyes.
"I was wrong. All of it. It was all me. I was so hung up on what I thought you ought to be that I forgot to look at you, and how you'd changed. I've been punishing you, and punishing myself, because I couldn't stand to look at the truth."

"Buffy - "

"Tara told me, you know. She said, 'Spike's done a lot of good,' and I just couldn't see it. Didn't want to see it. Because if I could admit you weren't evil, then those things - all those things I did to you - they were real."

He leaned forward to catch what she was saying, eyes locked on her face.

"They all mattered. The way I pounded on you, the way I spoke to you - the way," she added in a small voice, an anguished look on her face, "I used you for sex. To make me feel."

He winced. He'd known, of course, even tried to call her on it once or twice, but it was hard to hear it put so bluntly.
"Buffy. I get it. You're - ."

"I couldn't face it, Spike, I couldn't admit it. You couldn't be one of the good guys. Because if you were - then I wasn't. Because of the way I treated you."

She stopped, knelt on the ground in front of him, took his hand, looked into his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Spike. For all the hitting and the meanness - and the- the sex stuff too." She bit her lower lip, looked away, then raised her eyes to his once again. "Using you for sex - that was the worst part of all. I knew how you felt about me and I traded on that, and that was wrong. I can't ask you to forgive me, but I can try to tell you how sorry I am. You know I didn't come back wrong, that was all Buffy, doing those things to you. Coming back wrong was just an excuse, a way that I could do those things without facing up to the truth."

He wondered when she would understand that their lovemaking was more than sex, more than a quick release, more than just a way to feel. He knew it had been, even if she didn't - yet. But he could wait.

He noticed idly that she was still holding his hand, still too close. He could breathe her perfume, smell the flower in her hair. He wanted to tell her that it was okay, that they could still be friends, that she could stop by sometimes, but he knew that wouldn't - couldn't - be enough. He had tasted her now; he would never stop yearning for what he had touched so briefly.

She took a deep breath, hoping it would be enough to get her through what she needed to say, then continued,

"The truth is, Spike, I did - have feelings for you. I didn't want to, and I told myself it was the wrong-ness of me, that the real Buffy wouldn't do those things, wouldn't feel those things. But here I am. All green, ruffly, real Buffy. And seeing you today, at the wedding - it hurt. A lot."

Spike frowned, his fingers tightening against the hands that held them, unsure what she was saying, scarcely daring to hope.

"I - do you think - ," she sighed, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling of the crypt. This had been easier in her head.

"Do I think what, pet?"

"Could we give it another try? For real, this time? With the talking, and the - dating?" She had let go of his hands now, and was fidgeting with her nails, watching them, darting the occasional glance at him. "Try to spend time together like normal people? Just hang out together, you know? Maybe go to the Bronze, or see a movie. And - stop the big secretty part. Tell my friends, tell Dawn. You could - maybe you could pick me up after work sometimes. Just - let it happen. See if it was real."

She was babbling now, and she knew it. He knew it too, of course, but after trying to get a word in for so long, he was happy to leave her to talk herself around in circles.

"We don't have to if you don't want to, of course. I know, I've been a - "

"Bitch" he added helpfully.

She started, looked hurt for a moment, then realised what he had meant.

"A bitch, that's right. But - I'd really like to make it up to you. Well, to try." If she was going to humilate herself, she might as well make sure the humiliation was complete.
"I - I think I love you, Spike. I don't know for sure - I don't know when I'll know for sure - but I'd like to see what we could - ," she broke off, tears filling her eyes. "I'm sorry. I should just - ."

His hands tightened on hers again, gentler now, his thumbs lightly stroking the palms of her hands.

"Yes."

"I don't - I know you probably - What do you mean, 'Yes.'"

"I mean yes. I'd like that too." For once, she didn't interrupt him. "Starting over. Trying again." He grinned. Wondered if there was kissing in this arrangement too.

When she smiled at him, he knew for sure. This time, it was real. He'd seen her smile before, but never like this. And never at him.

He squeezed her hands as she stood, smiled at him, then settled herself back down on the sofa. It hadn't been as difficult as she'd expected. It was Spike, after all. He'd always been easy to talk to.

"I - it's been hard, Spike. Coming back, I mean. With mom gone, and dad who-knows-where, and trying to look after Dawn. She's such a great kid, but she's really been messing up, and I'm right there messing up with her. I can't even get a real job, for crying out loud - I have to work in some stupid burger place where they can't even make the meat our of meat, and my hair smells of grease, and my skin is horrible but I can't even bear the thought of putting on moisturizer because it just reminds me of the stuff we cook the fries in."

He reached out, tentatively stroked her unmoisturized cheek.

"You look fine to -."

She softened, leant into his hand, relaxed a little. Smiled again - had she smiled more at him tonight than in all the time they'd known each other? He settled back on the sofa and grinned at her.

"My boss is just weird - I guess at least she's better than the first guy that was there - and my friends are in trouble - Willow with the 12-step anti-magic program, and Xander with the wedding - ." She sighed, pausing to sip her water, before continuing,
"The wedding today - it was just such a nightmare. I have a run in my hose and my head aches - Anya even made us wear lime green toenail polish to match these hideous things." She stuck her foot out from under her dress and wiggled her toes near his face. "I had to calm everyone down at the church - I can't believe I was doing charades for a bunch of demons!"

Spike tried not to laugh at the look on her face. It was hard, he was happier than he had any right to be, and all he wanted to do was laugh. Well, laugh and kiss her senseless and make sweet tender love to her for a week.

"Wish I'd stuck around to -."

She continued as though he'd never spoken,
"And Xander - I mean, he's like a brother to me - I'd never have imagined that he'd run off like this. I don't know, maybe he wants Anya to go after him and find him - he told me I should go after Riley when he left. Heck, I did go after Riley - I tried desperately to reach him to stop him from leaving that time - I let him tell me that I *made* him go get suck jobs from vamp hos and I still tried to go after him. I was so hung up on being a normal girl and having a normal life - well guess what Mister Riley Finn, I don't need you and I don't need normal. And I'm glad I didn't catch that helicopter. So there." She smiled at him, unaccountably shy.
"'Cause if I had, I wouldn't be here with you, would I?"

She took another gulp of water. He tried not to smirk as she continued,
"And another thing, Mr I've-been-to-South-America-and-found-a-perfect-wife. I've got far more important things to do than go gallivanting off all over the place, and if I did get to gallivant then I'd gallivant over to England and visit Giles."

She sighed a little, looking directly at Spike. "I miss Giles, Spike. I wish he'd come back, even just for a visit. Or maybe I could just get on a plane and go see him. Have you ever - oh. Of course you've been to England."

"Well yes love, but we could -."

*We*. He and the Slayer. *His* Slayer. They were an "us". It was hard to concentrate on what she was saying. His mind was busy creating variants on "Me and my lady". They all sounded pretty fine.

"You know, all my grandparents went to Europe. And mom and dad did - heck, dad may even still be there for all I know. I was gonna go too, when I graduated college. I had it all planned, back in LA, before - before I became the Slayer. Back when life was cheerleading and the mall, and homework and boys and horrible teachers. When having a boy tease me about my dimples was the height of embarrassment. Before I had to keep changing doctors because I heal too darn quickly. Before it was all about the best way to clean demon ick off of suede, before the first guy I slept with turned into Mr Embodiment-of-Evil and tried to destroy the world. Before I died." Before I had you ...

Spike opened his mouth to say something.

"Either time," she clarified, rolling her eyes at him. It felt good to relax with him, to let him tease her. To look forward to nights - evenings - spent together. Well, okay, nights too. Especially the - don't go there. Things to resolve first. Don't think about the nights, Buffy. Keep talking, that'll work.

"I was going to do so much with my life, you know. I was going to be something special."

"You are -."

"I was going to travel and go to college. I was going to settle down, marry a doctor or a lawyer or something like that, and wear beautiful clothes and go to parties. And have a house with a white picket fence and two perfect children and a fancy car. And instead, here I am. My boyfriend lives in a crypt and I - "

She stopped, realised what she'd said. Her boyfriend. Spike. Evil undead bloodsucking fiend Spike. Loving, passionate, smiling-at-her-right-now Spike. The man she loved.

She reached out to take his hand, held it between hers, looking down at it, toying with it absently, stroking his fingers as she continued.

"I'm the Slayer, Spike. I fight the forces of darkness, but I have to flip burgers too, because Social Services don't understand Slaying, and it's certainly no way to pay the bills. All the men in my life leave me," - he started to interrupt there but she kept going - "all except you. My female friends are my teenage sister who is really a mystical key, a witch, an ex-witch in rehab and an ex-demon. I had to drop out of college when my mom got sick and now I'm scared that I'm too dumb to go back, and the only class I really enjoyed was poetry anyway and that doesn't exactly lead to employability and instant riches. Meanwhile Warren and Jonathan and Tucker's brother are still out there somewhere messing up as usual and I have no idea how to find them."

"Buffy." He tucked an errant curl behind her ear. "We've got time. Do you think you could slow -."

Once again, Buffy cut him off in mid-sentence. But as her lips met his, he realised he didn't mind it a bit.

---The End---