Buffy and Willow made their way slowly along the sidewalk towards home that evening. Buffy kicked despondently at a crumpled pop can as they walked back from the DoubleMeat Palace. Lorraine hadn't even begun to listen to her explanation for the events of the previous week; she simply asked her to turn in her uniform again and never come back. Buffy didn't know what was more humiliating; the look of disappointment from her boss, or the pity she saw on the faces of some of her former co-workers. What kind of a loser am I, if I can't even keep a stupid fast food job? "Thanks for being there, Will," she sighed.
"I only wish it could have gone better," Willow said. "If it helps, I was thinking about all the horrible things I could have turned her in to, if I were still doing magic."
Buffy laughed ruefully. "If we're wishing, let's not waste time there - let's have a million dollars. That would solve our problems nicely," she said, climbing the front steps.
"Dawn? We're home," she called as she opened the door. There was no reply, but Buffy heard laughter.
Attracted by the sound, Buffy and Willow headed for the kitchen. Two heads - one dark, one light - leaned together over a number of magazines spread out before them on the kitchen table. Dawn and Spike looked up as they entered. Debris on the counter testified to Dawn's inexpert attempt at producing hot chocolate for both of them. Mini marshmallows were scattered on the counter and floor, some of them squashed under their feet.
Buffy's anger battled for control with the sudden knot in her stomach, courtesy of her most recent nightmares. Spike was the last person she needed to see right now. "How the hell did you get in here?"
"Bit invited me in," he replied evenly, getting up from his chair. "I brought some magazines for you. You had said you wanted to redecorate your room, and she thought she might like to do the same." He held up one of the home decor magazines as if to prove his sincerity.
"She had no right."
"Will you stop talking about me like I'm not even here?" Dawn said furiously. "Spike's my friend. If I want to invite him in, I will. I live here too, you know!"
"Buffy, it's my fault," Spike offered. "I really only came to drop off the magazines. I shouldn't have stayed."
"No, you never should have come here at all. What the hell were you thinking?" she snapped.
His face closed up with anger. "I was thinking that I'd do something nice for you. Serves me right for trying, I suppose. I should have known no one would buy it."
"Haven't you done enough to me already? Get out of my house!" When he didn't move fast enough for her liking, she grabbed at his lapels and flung him back into the door. She twisted the knob, hoping he'd tumble out while off balance, but instead, recovered, he shoved her roughly into the island counter. The door gaped open behind him.
Buffy braced herself on the island and brought one leg up in a powerful side kick that hit dead centre on Spike's chest. He tumbled to the floor, but managed to swing around to sweep her legs from under her so she joined him there. He scrambled to his knees in time to stop her from rising again with a backhanded blow to her face. She shook it off quickly and lunged forward to drive one shoulder into his midsection and send him out the door.
Dawn and Willow watched in awe as Buffy's last blow sent Spike sprawling out onto the back deck. He recovered his footing in time to capture Buffy's arm on her next swing, and used it to spin her about and down the steps to tumble on the lawn. He leapt after her, only to be sent head over heels as she brought her legs up to defend herself. She bounced swiftly to her feet to meet him again.
The other two rushed out the door behind them, but could only stand and stare, gripping the railing at the edge of the deck. They both had seen Buffy fighting before, but never in a contest that seemed so evenly matched; every move she made, it seemed Spike had a counter for. They moved together in a deadly choreography across the lawn, trading the lead back and forth between them.
It took several minutes, but finally Buffy had Spike trapped between one of the large trees and the back fence. She groped in her jacket pocket for one of her ubiquitous stakes, and leaned forward to strike.
"Buffy, no!" Dawn screamed, as her sister drew back her arm.
As though she had heard, Buffy froze, giving Spike a moment to grab her upraised arm. She strained in his grip to complete the strike, but then wavered. This isn't . . . I want . . . I don't want to . . .
"Kiss me or kill me, Slayer; make up your mind." Spike kept one hand tightly on her wrist until she loosened her grip on the stake. He plucked it from her suddenly nerveless fingers and stowed it in a pocket of his coat, then reached for her other hand.
She abruptly threw herself against him and brought her lips to his. Their mouths fused together.
Spike returned her kiss ardently for some time, but then placed both hands on her shoulders and gently but firmly pushed her away from him. "No. This isn't right."
"What are you doing?" Now she was more confused than ever. She thought this was what he wanted, and she had decided to give in to her own desire.
"What we both know I should. I don't want to end up on the business end of a stake tomorrow when you think of this. Even more, I don't want you to end up feeling what I know you will if we go ahead." He released her and dropped his hands to his sides. "I want you to come be with me because you've decided it's what you need, not only to satisfy a passing fancy."
"This is an impossible relationship," she protested.
"I believe in the impossible. I'm in love," said Spike. He found it telling that Buffy had actually called it a relationship - even as she was protesting it would never happen.
"You're not the right person for me; you can't be," she insisted.
"Love is not finding the perfect person, but finding the imperfect person perfect," he countered.
"What? I . . . you lost me there." Buffy knew she should never have let herself be drawn into conversation with him; he always managed to make the most outrageous ideas seem perfectly reasonable.
"I'm only saying that you have to stop waiting for something that's never going to come; there is no perfect person. I'm far from it - and I'm sure you'd be happy to enumerate my flaws - but I'm the man who wants to make you happy."
"You just want me back in bed with you."
"Of course I want you in my bed, love," Spike grinned. "Can't ever get enough of that."
"What - hours at a time weren't enough for you?" she asked mockingly.
All traces of teasing banter disappeared from his voice, and his eyes suddenly looked right through her. "If I'd had you for a lifetime, Buffy, I'd still be complaining I'd been short-changed."
Her breath rushed out of her as though she had been punched in the stomach. She couldn't speak a word.
"You said you couldn't love me," he went on. "If you meant that it would never be possible, that I'm wasting my time, then maybe you should take this," he pulled the stake from his pocket and folded her fingers around it again, placing the point above his heart, "and end this misery for both of us, now."
Buffy could only stand and stare at the point of the stake where it dimpled his pale flesh. Her fingers tightened, convulsively and unconsciously, and it broke the skin, letting a few ruby drops well up. He hissed an unnecessary breath and closed his eyes, waiting, seemingly resigned. Long moments passed before Buffy finally released the stake and let it fall noiselessly to the grass. Spike's coal-smudge lashes fluttered open, revealing clear blue eyes touched with hope.
"Or . . . if you meant that you needed time, that you just won't let yourself feel anything now . . ." he paused, and took her small hands in his cool ones. "I want you to know - I'll wait. I love you, and I'll wait and hope that maybe someday you'll find it possible to love me."
Now it was Buffy's turn to close her eyes. She turned her head away, but didn't draw back her hands. "What if . . . what if I don't know if it's possible? What if it never happens?"
"Never's a long time, Buffy. Still, I've got nothing but time. Let me spend it on you. I'll wait," he repeated emphatically. Gentle fingertips turned her face back to him. "If you'll let me."
Buffy's breath sighed softly from between her parted lips, and she looked up at him. "Could I stop you?" she asked quietly, at last.
The corners of his mouth turned up and he shook his head. "No. Likely not." He leaned forward, giving her every chance to withdraw. When she didn't retreat, he pressed a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth - the most feather-light touch. "But I'll not trouble you further tonight, then. When . . . if . . . you ever decide, you know how to find me." With that, he released her and shrugged his hands into his pockets, turning to leave without another backward glance.
"Wow," breathed Dawn from where she stood on the deck having taken it all in incredulously. "That was intense."
Buffy laughed shakily. "With Spike, it probably couldn't be anything else," she said. "Have I made a mistake?" she asked her sister and her best friend. "Have I promised him something I won't ever be able to offer?"
"You only promised him that he could wait, Buffy," Willow replied. "Not that anything was guaranteed to happen. But I have to know - what happened to his chip? Has it stopped working?" Her forehead creased with worry at what that might mean for the rest of them.
"It seems as though the spell that brought me back changed things just enough that the chip doesn't work with me," Buffy explained. "He can't hurt anyone else." Willow and Dawn both looked relieved.
"And when were you in bed with Spike?" Dawn demanded.
"I suppose you really should know," Buffy sighed. "It's a long story."
"Do I look like I'm going anywhere?" Dawn retorted.
Buffy just smiled a small smile, and began thinking how she might edit the content on the fly to a more PG-13 version. "I guess it started last year . . ."