Thirteen: AFTERGLOW
They'd fallen asleep together, his tight sinewy body encircling her dainty silken one. How safe and loved --- and 'normal' --- Buffy felt with him: a woman in the arms of the man she loved. How complete he felt to know the love of the woman he adored.
------- o -------
Buffy was roused by the sound of a car door slamming on the street. Before opening her eyes, she sensed that Spike had left her bed. Somehow though, she knew he was close by, knew he'd never leave her again.
As she got out of bed, Buffy picked up his black silk shirt from the floor and slipped it on along with a pair of her sweats. She hugged herself, deeply inhaling the scent of her lover on his shirt and permeating her own skin. With an unconscious smile, she set out in search of him.
------- o -------
Spike had awoken earlier with a bit of a start, the images of the past still haunting his dreams. He'd become accustomed in the weeks since he'd been "reborn" to awakening in this way in unfamiliar surroundings. At least on this night, he knew where he was --- and was grateful to be there, with his arms around Buffy, who loved him. Although comforted by his surroundings (and the presence of the smooth feminine nude spooned against him --- perhaps "comforted" isn't the right word given the whole nude spooning thing), Spike felt skittish. Adrenalin was surging through him, an after-effect of the dream.
Bitta fresh air s'all I need.
Not wanting to wake his sleeping beauty, he gingerly slipped from her bed. Looking back at her, he noted what seemed like the slightest hint of a smile. "Amazing," he whispered as he turned to the door to peak out into the hall and ensure the coast was clear of any innocent eyes that might have arrived home since they'd dozed off. Judging the house to be empty, save himself and Buffy, he crept naked down the hall to Willow's room, where he donned his pajama pants and duster.
------- o -------
He wasn't in the bathroom. Not in Willow's room or Dawn's. Not in the living room, dining room or kitchen. But the backdoor was open.
There on the steps of the back porch, Buffy found Spike, sitting alone. They'd sat there together so often over the past two years during some of Buffy's more difficult times. Sometimes they talked; sometimes they just stared silently out into the night.
Seeing him there now, he looked as she always remembered him. That's when Buffy realized that for the first time since he tried it on after she'd returned it, Spike was wearing his duster. Buffy hadn't even noticed until that moment that although he'd worn it virtually all day everyday since the first time they'd met, Spike hadn't worn the coat since he'd come back to Sunnydale.
As she looked at him through the open door she considered how different things were now, how much she'd changed. She no longer felt sadness and fear. There was no shame at being with him (and no pain, cuts or bruises from having been). Expressing her love for him, out loud, in words and with her body had liberated her. It was a 'bloody revelation', she thought, remembering what he'd said to her after the first night they'd had sex so many months before. Tonight, she could believe it.
"Whacha doin' out here?" Buffy inquired coyly, still watching him from the doorway.
"Evenin' luv," Spike said without actually turning back to her. He'd been crying, and she could tell.
Poor guy.
Pull yourself together ya nancy boy. "Come. Sit with me." He motioned for her to join him.
"So, what are you doing out here?" Buffy asked again, as she settled herself close to him --- closer than she'd have ever dared or even thought to on any of their previous meetings on that step. Close enough to feel the comforting warmth of his body.
"Just listenin' to the night."
They sat quietly for a moment. Then at the same time, they turned to each other and spoke.
"Spike, I just wanted-"
"Buffy, I-"
Both let out a little laugh then turned back to peer into the darkness. "You go ahead," Spike insisted.
"OK. I just wanted to thank you for all that you did for me, tonight. and last night. It's been amazing. No one's ever done so much or made me feel so completely loved. Desired. Satisfied." She finished with a giggle and a roll of her eyes.
"Buffy," he chuckled, "that's sorta what I wanted to say."
More silence.
Turning to her, he continued, "You know, I've lived a bloody long life, I have. Outlasted my family by a century. Friends too. Traded them in on the promise of the danger and excitement of a creature of the night."
In his voice, Buffy noted a tone of true sadness and the pain of loss.
He sighed. "Most o' my life, I had Dru. I loved 'er, I did. She saved me from my mediocrity," he recalled sardonically. "So, I took care of 'er. But she never really loved me. S'pose I was like one of 'er dolls... A toy to play with. She chucked me over more than once for the Poo-" Spike caught himself, then corrected, "-for Angel. Sod it, plenty more times for whatever demon she was fancyin'. No matter what I did, no matter how 'ard I tried, she just couldn't love me. Couldn't feel about me the way I wan'ned her to." Spike paused, staring blankly into the yard.
Why does he have to talk about Drusilla... about Angel, when everything was going so well?
Right then, mate. Enough with the self-pity. On with ya. "Buffy, I wan'ned to give you somethin''," he said reaching into the pocket of his duster. Taking her hand in his, such delicate little hands, he placed into her palm a small velvet pouch then closed her hand around it. He sat like that a while, trying to think what more to say.
Buffy felt a quiver in the pit of her stomach from the intensity of the moment and the touch of his strong warm hands. At the same time, curiosity burned in her chest, wondering what on Earth could Spike have set in her hand.
"In all my years, I've never felt about anyone else like I do 'bout you. No one's ever made me feel the way you do." He snorted, "You used to drive me mad: dashing my schemes, turnin' up wherever I went, and later... Well, you got inside me, under my skin. I couldn't go long without seein' you. The way you made feel... and now... " Spike smiled. "This," he said squeezing the hand that held the pouch, "is somethin' dear to me. Got it from the first woman ever made me feel loved..."
At his words, Buffy felt uncomfortable: he was giving her something that had belonged to some other woman, a love from his past.
"Please luv, op'n it," he entreated, releasing her hand.
She looked at him with a troubled face and saw in his eyes both the sadness of a love long gone and joy in having found love again. "OK," she agreed apprehensively. In the pouch, she found a ring with a twisted golden band and three vibrant green stones.
"They're peridot," he said of the gems. "Not so valuable as diamonds or emeralds or such 'course, but the ring's special."
This was in the lock box he snuck home from his crypt, Buffy concluded. As lovely as the ring was, she found it difficult to appreciate, wondering how he'd come to have it: had he killed that woman? Snapped her neck when she rejected him? Drunk her dry? It doesn't really matter I guess. It belonged to someone else. Can I just say, "Ew"?
"Spike, I-" she hesitated.
That's not really the face I was hopin' for, thought Spike as he saw her conflicted expression. Well, maybe if you got to the point, you bloody stupid git, she'd understand what you're doin'. "Buffy, the ring, was me mum's," he explained. "She wanted me to 'ave it. Hoped I'd give to the girl I..." He trailed off, nervous about finishing his sentence.
Buffy's face softened hearing the loss was of his mother, and brightened at the implication of what he was trying to say. She smiled at him, wide-eyed.
You're so beautiful. The sight of her change in mood, strengthened his resolve. "You make me feel whole. I want to be with you, by your side, for the rest of my life."
Oh My God! I can't believe this is happening, her voice cheered in her mind.
"Buffy. luv, I'm not expectin' a quick answer. Take your time," he urged gently. "Think on it. Whatever you decide, I want you to keep the ring."
She looked deeply into his soft eyes, trying to coax him to get to the point, though not sure what she'd do once he did.
Gazing back at her, his eyes wide and pupils rimmed with the slightest band of blue in the moonlight.
His eyes.
"Will you marry me?"
~* end *~
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An Invitation from the Author: Did you enjoy this story? (Comments appreciated)
Want to see what happens next? This series continues with the sequel With This Ring.