Part IV

They had been sitting there for ten minutes, staring straight ahead through the tinted glass, neither knowing what to say or do. Both slayer and ex-vampire fidgeted with their hands that rested in their respective laps, minds racing.

"Well," Buffy said, breaking the silence, "looks like we're here." Spike smiled tightly at her mock cheer, knowing that she was dreading what was to come just as much as he was.

"Looks like," he muttered, his voice tainted with apprehension. He craned his neck to the right, drinking in the sight of the place he last visited almost two years ago. The simple house held some of the most powerful memories he had had in his twelve plus decades of unlife. Camaraderie: when he had formed the uneasy alliance with the woman next to him, intent on sending her ex-beau, his ex-Yoda, to hell. Acceptance: how Joyce always treated him as a man and not a creature of the night. Emptiness: when he had followed Buffy after chaining her up, only to find that he had been de-invited. Hope: before the battle with Glory, he had seen what he thought was a glimmer of acceptance in her eyes, as she saw him as more than he was…more than he ever could be. Solidity and Comfort: his relationship over that summer with Dawn, how she had been there as much for him as he had been for her. There were even times where he had shared her bed, unable to quiet the inner demons of his failures, and her gentle cooing as she held him, the only solace he could find at that time. Awe and Joy: when he had seen her descend the steps, alive for the first time in 147 days, he had felt—had known—that, for one moment, his heart sputtered to life.

Those memories, however, no matter their significance, were clouded over, blackened by his one true moment of shame, the moment that would haunt him for the rest of his life. The way she clutched her robe as she glared at him with disgust, the helpless feeling of betrayal radiating from her teary eyes. How her words—"Ask me again why I could never love you"—filled with hurt and…disappointment? —crashed into him like a mace.

"You okay?" he felt her hand on his shoulders and jumped. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Spike turned to her and forced a smile.

"Just peachy, luv. Just peachy," he repeated though the last two words were hollow.

"Well, we can stay here and admire the sunrise," she said, unhooking her seatbelt, "or we can get out and get you settled."

"You know you don't have to do this, pet," Spike said, placing a tentative hand on her arm before she stepped out the car.

The genuine smile Buffy gave Spike warmed his heart.

"I know," she stated simply before swinging her legs out the car door.

Intimating her actions, Spike removed himself from the confines of the Civic and joined her at the trunk.

The stood there, side by side, shoulders grazing as they swayed, staring into the trunk at his two bags. It really wasn't that he needed to bring them in, considering that sometime tomorrow, he'd be checking into a decent hotel until he could get adjusted. Buffy had offered (more like insisted) that he sleep there for a few hours instead of renting a room in one of the many seedy motels that stayed open twenty-four/seven. The offer was special in of itself, but the sincerity behind it was almost his undoing. Though they had been on the highway at the time, he had wanted to plunder her lips with his, to hell with the consequences. By some miracle, however, he had refrained from that course of action and managed to only squeeze her hand that had rested on the gearshift.

"So," he said, rocking slightly on his heels, "think we should head in?"

"Why?" She asked him dazed before nudging him in the ribs playfully. "We could always be the poster people of what drugs would make you do." She finished by giggling madly.

Spike only looked at her, his lips pursed in a questioning smile. Though he had no idea what she was talking about, seeing her laugh with such life invigorated him to no end. He had rarely seen the giggly schoolgirl side of her, capturing minute glances every so often during their time together. Even when she would slip and snicker around him, she was quick to suppress it, lest she show that he was more than a 'convenience'--at least that was what he had thought. And then there was the fact that he hadn't seen her in two years.

"Tired, luv?" he smirked and when Buffy looked at him, she couldn't help but double over in giggles. In mock-annoyance, Spike rolled his eyes and plucked a bag from the trunk before walking up to the porch, muttering something about sleep-deprived slayers.

Wiping her eyes, Buffy closed the trunk before following Spike up the steps, almost running into him when he stopped abruptly at the top of the steps.

"Uh, rude much," Buffy joked before maneuvering past him and inserting the key in the door. Just as she was about to push it open, she heard the faintest of whispers tickle at her eardrum.

She turned around tentatively and caught sight of one of the most endearing, heartbreakingly sad faces she had ever seen.

There stood Spike, one suitcase in his left hand while the other arm hung loosely at his side. His wide blue eyes were glazed over and his face was contorted in a fearful scowl, as if he was expecting to be kicked at any moment.

"Spike?" Buffy asked, concern evident in her tone. Her hand dropped from the door and she walked up to the ex-vampire with trepidation. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder, not missing his slight flinch at the contact. She bit her lower lip to keep the tears at bay and waited several moments before speaking, making sure her tone was calm yet sincere. "What is it?"

At her question, Spike was able to tear his eyes away from the door and settle on the petite woman in front of him. He could see the concern etched on her face and it warmed him, relieving some of the deadness that washed over him when his feet touched the porch. Now, more than ever, the reality of what he had done crushed his soul, pulling it down into the depths of grief and shame and he all but knew that it would drown him if not for his lifeline that was the slayer--the one he had hurt above all others.

But that wasn't entirely accurate, he knew. There was someone else, someone he loved just as much as Buffy, albeit in a different way, that he knew he had hurt just as much by leaving. The one person who had held him together when he had wanted nothing more than to greet the sun. The one person who had accepted him, from day one, as a person and not some evil fiend. The one person that considered him a best friend and had, numerous times, shown him affection when no one else dared. The person that was even more beautiful and radiant than her namesake. Just behind those doors, she was somewhere in there, sleeping. And as hard as it had been to face the slayer, Spike didn't know if he could survive the hurt and disappointment that would wash over the youngest Summers' face.

After what seemed like an eternity to the former lovers, one word crept from Spike's constricted throat.

"What did you say?" Buffy asked and moved a few inches closer in order to hear his whispers.

"Dawn," he murmured a single tear slowly crawled down his face, his eyes refocusing on the door in front of them.

***

I watch as a tear trickles down Spike's face and, for a brief moment, there is no confusion as to how I feel about the man before me. There is no Angel of the past or Garrett of the present. All there is here and now, for my future, is Spike--my William. In that moment I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with him, loving him. Gone are my worries about my friends or needing time to heal for there is nothing to heal. In that brief moment, the time that spans half a heartbeat, one eye blink, my whole world comes together as it never had before and I feel safe. I feel loved. But more than that, I feel content.

But as all things come to an end so, too, does that moment.

I step back slightly, shaken by the previous swirl of my thoughts. I don't even think about his reaction to it but, thankfully, I don't have to worry. He is still transfixed on some invisible spot on the door. Fine, look at the door, I think and immediately reprimand myself. This isn't about me at all; this is about Spike being terrified of coming face to face with the one person, aside from Mom, that treated him like the man that he was--the man he is now.

"Spike," I say again and grab his free hand. He doesn't hesitate to take it and I feel that same strength in his grip in my fingers as was in his arms when he hugged me earlier. My eyebrows arch in confusion at the strength I feel there but that can wait. My main goal now is to somehow coax him through the door. It sounds easy but if you saw his face right now, it'd remind you of a rabbit, ready to bolt at the slightest noise.

"C'mon, Spike. We both need to get some sleep," I say and motion toward the door. He shakes his head as if to disentangle his brain from the cobwebs and gives me a plastic grin. I give him a supportive smile before opening the door, slowly with Spike reluctantly in tow.

Once we cross the threshold, part of Spike's tension melts away, though from the haunted look in his eyes, a good portion still remains.

We stand there for several minutes, silently (something that has become quite the habit tonight). Though his eyes flutter around the house, I catch him stealing furtive glances toward the steps. If it weren't for the pain that I know he's in, the indecision in his eyes would be cute. As it is now, I can only feel sympathy for what he's going through as well as what is still to come.

"So," he says, rocking back and forth on his heels, "I'm guessin' I'll be couch-bound tonight, eh?" He looks at me awaiting an answer that I can't give him right at this moment. Why, you ask? Well, it'd probably have to do with those eyes staring at me from under the sexiest eyelashes I have ever seen.

Forcing myself out of the temporary paralysis, I smile at him before replying. "No, you can sleep in my room," I say a bit too chipper and furrow my eyebrows at his look of utter, and complete, shock.

"Your room?" he whispers and I barely hear it.

"Yeah," I wave my hand in front of me for emphasis, "it's no big, in case you're worried. Since Willow moved…" and then it dawn's on me--the bulging eyes, the swiveled jaw, the now rigid posture of his body. And then I retrace what I had just said.

You can sleep in my room--Oh God!

"I mean…you know…'my room' as in my old room. As in the room I no longer sleep in 'my room'," I know I'm babbling but I can't help it. I can feel the heat exploding throughout my body and I can only imagine the depth of my blush.

Oh course, even after the angst 'fest of the last several hours, the traditional smirk of Spike--see Spike's smirk--is firmly in place, though the anguish he's feeling is still near the surface.

"Oh, right," he says and steals another look at the steps, "so, I'm wagering that you're in your Mum's old room."

"You'd be wagering correctly. And hey; more space, bigger bed. I even have my own bathroom with white tiles and…" I stop as the unpleasant memory of cool tile against my flesh ransacks its way into my mind. I look up at Spike and I see the same wretched pain on his face that is undoubtedly on mine as well.

As per usual for this night, we fall into another lull of silence, with me studying the floor, as if waiting for a comfortable word to be said to alleviate the tension that has stealthily crept its way under my flesh. The same tension that I had thought banished after I had had it out with Spike back at the club. Guess I should have known that it wouldn't be that easy.

"Slay…Buffy," he uses my name again, more times tonight than in our whole history together. "Dawn--I don't know if I can face her," he chokes out and his lips quiver, eyes thick with tears that he holds back and I can't help but see him now as a little boy, afraid of what his parents will say when they find out his horrible secret.

I take his bag from him, gently setting it on the floor before taking his hands in mine. Our fingers intertwine and I can't help but feel a shock of lighting run through me; that same shock I get every time he touched me. Guess it's not reserved for only the vampire Spike. I stare up into his wide eyes, capturing a glimpse of my reflection in them and for a moment, our souls connect, and everything falls away. A rush of air courses through my veins and everything around me is gone, replaced only with the soft colors of the sky. There is no ground to stand upon, no walls to be sheltered within. There is only me, floating into a blissful nothingness, the touch of my lover all that I feel.

But as quick as it surfaces, the…experience is gone and I am back here, staring into the eyes of a lost man.

"Spike…"

"I'm serious," he says, his breathing becoming ragged. He shuts his eyes tightly and I whine at the lost eye contact until I see a trickle of a tear escape from underneath his eyelid.

"I…I can't face her. Besides your Mum, she's the only person that treated me like a man all the time. She never looked at me like she hated me," he laughs humorlessly, "even when that business came up about chaining you to my crypt. Even then, I saw that she didn't despise me. But this," he lowered his head, "this…is different. I left her without so much as a goodbye."

His head shoots up and his eyes open unnaturally wide and my heart picks up the pace. In that one instant the look--totally and completely out of control, lost--reminds me of the ill-fated conflict in the bathroom…

I try to crawl away, but his hand shoots out, clamping down with supernatural strength to my ankle. He grabs me by the hips and forces me over, holding my wrists. I cry over and over again, begging him, pleading him to stop but he is gone. I see it in his eyes…this is not the Spike that I patrolled with, who fought like the demon he was. This isn't the Spike who's always been there for me and Dawn. This isn't the Spike that, however unlikely, became my confidant--then lover. This isn't the Spike who made me feel alive like no one before him--making me see all the special things within me that I never noticed. This isn't the Spike that, despite my denials and protestations, I'm falling for more each day…

His words are unclear, though I hear them fine, the only thing that I know are his hands tearing at my robe, reaching for my breast before I gain enough leverage to kick him off…

"Buffy?" his voice is pained and I notice that he isn't as close as he was before. At first I think he stepped away until I feel the banister digging into the small of my back.

"Oh God," the words come out as a whisper and I barely register that they are coming from me. I run a hand through my hair, dislodging the scrunchie holding it in a ponytail.

"Luv," Spike prods gently as he closes the distance between him. I look up at those beautiful blue eyes of his for a moment before sitting on the bottom step.

"What's wrong?" he asks, kneeling in front of me. I stare at him and I can't help but notice the way he's kneeling looks all to familiar--like he's about to propose. I laugh harshly, covering my mouth with both hands.

"Buffy, are you all right?" he asks and brushes a stray lock of hair from my eyes. Am I okay? How should I answer that? Well, aside from the fact that I experienced momentary bliss with you and then was sent directly to the hell that was our last time together, I'm peachy. Not to mention that you sitting there like that is reminding me of someone else, someone whose ring I wear. I wonder if I should say all this aloud and quickly think not.

"I'm fine," I smile mechanically and I know that he doesn't buy it--when did he ever buy it? "It's just that…"

"Just that what?" His body tenses as if expecting a blow. Damn, I've seen that on more than one occasion tonight.

"She knows," I say simply though there is nothing simple about the implications of those two words.

I had thought that when I confronted him earlier, hurling insult after insult, almost trying to cajole him into raping me again, that he had looked more defeated than I had ever seen him.

I didn't know how wrong I was.

I can tell he knows exactly what I'm talking about as his eyes widen in abject terror, before he falls to his butt, his arms falling to his sides insubstantial, as if they were made of Jell-O. His whole body begins to tremble and I am lost at what to do.

"I can't stay here," he whispers, his face awash in tears once more. Before kneeling in front of him, I can't help but think that I have never seen so many tears shed between two people in one day. It's bordering on the ridiculous--though I wager two years of pent-up pain and guilt has a way of doing that.

"Spike," I coo and try to bring him into a hug and he scrambles backwards. A stab of pain lances my gut at his reaction before I push it away and crawl towards him. If it were any other time, he'd be on me like a cat, divesting me of all my garments before taking me six ways from Sunday. But now he only looks at me, though he doesn't really see me. Then I see his eyes focus and he takes on an emotionless veneer.

"Did you tell her?" His voice is flat, devoid of anything Spike, save for the accent.

"Spike…no, I didn't."

His forehead creases and he asks, "How did she find out?" I break eye contact with him, not wanting him to know about Xander finding me--after. After furious deliberation, I sigh and decide to tell him. It's not like he won't find out sooner or later--with an emphasis on the sooner.

"When you left…after the bathroom…" my throat constricts and I consciously ignore the sting in the back of my throat, "Xander found me." After those three words leave my mouth, the transformation that takes place before me is unsettling and the hairs at the back of my neck bristle in almost the same way they do when a vampire is near. And for the first time in years, I am afraid of the man that is Spike.

His eyes mutate into a dark blue, his brow furrows into sharp creases and his body tenses, ready to kill. It still amazes me how Spike can go from sympathetic or broken to the hard and murderous visage in the blink of an eye. It reminds me of the time when he was here, trying to comfort me after the debacle of a visit from that social worker. I threw his support right back in his face. He stalked up to me with anger flashing in his eyes and for that one moment, I was afraid that he would kill me. Though I was afraid in the bathroom, it was a different kind of fear all together. Even as he tore at my clothes, I never thought he would kill me--but that one moment that, ironically, occurred in this very foyer, I thought that he was.

I shake the thoughts of the past off and reach out to him. His skin is fiery hot and his muscles are even more strained than I previously thought.

"Spike," I breathe his name out as if it is a life-giving substance and in a way, it is. No; will not go there.

"Spike," I say more forcefully and he snaps his head back towards me and the murderous gaze disappears.

He looks at me as if for the first time before hanging his head again. "I don't know if I can do this, luv," he murmurs.

Taking his face into my hands, I give him my best steely glare. He almost smiles at the determination he sees in my eyes before resigning himself to whatever I have to say.

"You can, Spike," I say, tightening my grip on him face minutely. "You can, and you will." He stares at me for several moments as if searching for…something. He nods his head almost imperceptibly, I guess finding what he was looking for, and takes my hand. He stands, pulling me with him and gives me a bone weary smile.

"Right you are, luv. I can do this," he tells me though I know it's more of a pep talk to himself than to me.

"Well, then, let's go," I tell him and make my way up the steps. I feel him hesitate before he follows me up.

As we settle him into my old room, mindful of Dawn sleeping, I can't help but worry about the coming days. There is going to be so much that he going to need to deal with that I don't think he can do it alone. Of course, that last part really doesn't matter since I will be here for him every step of the way.

***

Thirty minutes after Buffy had shown him in, Spike laid under the covers on his back, hands folded comfortably behind his head. With everything that happened today, he was emotionally drained. He just wanted to sleep for the next week and still that wouldn't be enough. The last six hours had been a roller coaster of emotions almost too much to handle. Seeing Buffy for the first time in two years. The things she had said to him. How she had asked him to come back with her (despite her obvious attachment to someone else, part of him scuffed). And then there was the whole stepping through the doors of 1630 Revello Drive. Yeah, tonight had been just one of those nights where the unexpected reared its ugly (and sometimes welcome) head.

But despite the battle he had fought tonight, the next few days were going to be a monster. Seeing the gang again was going to be on the other side of awkward, especially with Dawn and the whelp knowing what had gone down in the bathroom. The scorn he was bound to get from Xander didn't pain him nearly as much as seeing Dawn--her contempt and hatred would probably burn holes through him. He knew it was something he deserved and expected--still, it wouldn't make it any easier.

No, he was not looking forward to this at all.

Though unaware of it, Buffy was having the same problem sleeping, as was her ex-lover in the other room. Her sheets were tangled from her tossing and turning as her mind raced to think of what to tell the others tomorrow. She'd all but given up hope on reaching out to Xander--he would probably hate Spike regardless of the human changes in the former vampire. Buffy didn't think Willow would be too hard on Spike, considering she had almost ended the world. The depth of forgiveness the redhead now carried was only equal to the compassion that had made Tara such a warming confidant. As for Giles…well, that would be as complicated as the whole Xander issue. Though Giles was much more mature about things, seeing Spike after what he had done to Buffy--she just hoped that the Ripper part of her Watcher was buried quite deep when the reunion came around. And Anya was Anya. Buffy knew the vengeance demon wouldn't hold anything against Spike--well after giving him a thorough talking to.

As much as she was worried about the Scoobies reactions, she was just as afraid as Spike was of what her sister's reaction would be. When Dawn had found out that Spike was gone, she was hurt and it hurt her even more when she found out what he had almost done to Buffy. It wasn't until Buffy told her the whole sordid story that Dawn managed to forgive him for that. The thing that she couldn't, or hadn't, forgiven was that he had left. Left just like her father did. Left just like Buffy and her mother did. That first month after the whole Willow ordeal was the hardest. For whatever reasons, after getting over the attempted-rape issue, the teen had thought that she had something to do with her best friend leaving and Buffy knew all too well what that felt like. It had been a time of bonding for them, and now, they were as close as two sisters could be.

But after that first month, Dawn never mentioned Spike and anytime she saw the leather duster hanging in the closet, she would sneer in disgust before walking out. And that was just a piece of clothing. What would she do--or worse, say--when she saw the real thing? Buffy knew that Dawn was almost as good as she was in hurling hurtful barbs. But it didn't matter if she wasn't as good as Buffy, what mattered was that Spike loved Dawn just as much as he loved her. The look on his face earlier had told the slayer that much.

Sighing, she pulled Mr. Gordo into a tight hug. No doubt about it--tomorrow was going to be a long day.

Somewhere, faraway, he heard it. It was a gentle rapping, like a child's hand looking for entrance into his or her parents' room. It was one born of excitement, yet filled with trepidation. It clawed at him through the haze of sleep, dragging him from the subconscious realm of dreams to the oft times painful region of consciousness.

"Spike?" the distant—though closer than before—voice wafted into his ears. The familiarity of it ushered the haze of sleep from his exhausted mind and he sat up in bed reflexively.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice still hoarse from sleep. He rubbed his eyes, listening to the door creek open and a petite figure entered the room.

"You decent?" Buffy asked after taking two steps into the room. It had taken all her willpower to refrain from just busting open the door. Even after two years, knocking on Spike's door—rather, knocking down Spike's door—was just as unconscious a reflex as breathing.

"Always," came his sardonic reply.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy walked the rest of the way in. She stopped briefly as she made out the well-muscled form of her ex-lover as the sheets piled around his waist. Shaking her head, she mandated herself to walk forward, despite the familiar ache residing just a bit too far south for her comfort.

"I see you've maintained your undying humility," she added dryly, muttering something about vain and sarcastic ex-vampires under her breath.

"I'll have you know," he replied with mock-indignation, "that this fine body here was sought after by the finest of…"

"Hoes?" Buffy interrupted, not entirely hiding the trace of jealousy from her tone. Of course, even the hint of that particular emotion was not hidden from Spike.

"Jealous, luv?" he asked, arching his eyebrow in that 'way' that Buffy had to admit was quite sexy.

"Jealous?" Buffy repeated, trying in vain to sound incredulous. But even to her, it sounded stiff and contrived.

Spike gave her a trademark smirk, pleased at the little revelation. Buffy was jealous! He was just about to make another sardonic remark when a sliver of light crawled through the curtain, reflecting off the small, yet brilliant, diamond lodged on Buffy's ring finger.

Buffy was waiting for Spike to say something else about her jealousy—yes, she could admit to herself that she was jealous thinking about anyone having him, even if she would never be with him. She waited for the words to come from his open mouth only to catch the light that had bloomed from his eyes when she had walked into the room, fade upon itself until it was invisible. His face, full of humor and mirth, shut down, to be replaced by the stoic and emotionless mask that she knew too well. He was hiding the hurt and Buffy just wished that she could alleviate him of that pain.

"Spike…" she started but he waved her off.

"So where's the Niblet?" He stared at the chain around her neck, her hair draped across one shoulder, even her eyebrows. But he avoided her eyes at all costs. What a fool he was! Did he really expect to come back and her not move on? Well, to be honest, since he didn't plan on returning, her moving on was a moot point, though he hoped that she'd find a good bloke to treat her right. It really wouldn't have an effect on him, now would it? What did they always say? Out of sight, out of mind. That was how he planned to handle everything, but she just had to show up, begging him to come back.

And who was the ponce that agreed to come back? He thought bitterly. Buffy didn't twist his arm, (though he didn't doubt that she would have if he hadn't been so cooperative), so he couldn't put it on her. Maybe he could put it on the whelp…hell, Xander was the one that brought Construction Boy with him at her party two years ago, he probably introduced her to the git who gave her that ring, too.

As much as he wanted to ask her about it all, Spike was terrified. For some reason, putting it all to words made it all the more real—and that was something he just couldn't deal with. Not now. Maybe not ever.

"Slayer?" Buffy winced at the coolness of his tone. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, thoughts that had been muddled by the prospect of telling Spike some things he may or may not be able to deal with. But what did it matter? It wasn't like they would ever be together, would it? No, it was impossible. They couldn't be in the same room for more than a few minutes without either screwing each other silly or ripping into each other with scathing words and forceful punches.

But that was the old Buffy and Spike, her newly found voice admonished.

But that part of us will always be there and you know it, the old voice screamed, and settled down, smugly when it felt Buffy's response. It was right. No matter how much they changed, underneath it all, under the brand new way of thinking and the new exterior, they were still the same Buffy and Spike, respectively. Even if things were different, even if her emotions weren't running high enough…

"She's gone…" Buffy said absently. She shook herself from the cusps of depression before masking her face with a cheesy smile. "Left a note saying she and some of her soon-to-be graduate friends went out to shop. There's a big party tonight she's going to. You know? Celebrate graduation and all."

"She's not going to set off commencement by blowing up a huge snake in the school, now is she?"

Buffy looked horrified at Spike, who smirked with almost a familiar smirk to him. Still, something was missing.

"How did you…?"

"Well, one of the many perks with bein' best friends with the Slayer's sister," he said smugly, leaning back into the pillows, "is that you get all the dirt on said Slayer." He chuckled at her fish out of water pout and Buffy made a conscious effort not to leer at the way his stomach muscles bunched as his body shook with laughter…

Just like it shook when you were on top of him, his manhood buried to the hilt inside of you…

"Yeah? Well, guess I'm gonna have to have a talk with the sister when she gets back." She was almost going to start back to teasing him when she saw his demeanor fall and this time she was sure that it wasn't because on the still-yet-to-be-explained ring on her finger.

"Still dreading it, huh?" she asked though she already knew the answer.

"Nope. Actually looking forward to having my intestines ripped from my belly and stuffed down my throat. Followed by a nice, pointy stake to the heart—not that it'd matter," his words, though sarcastic, held no bite to them.

Instinctively, Buffy's hand found Spike's thigh and she squeezed it reassuringly.

"You know you're not gonna be doing this alone, don't you?" His eyes were locked on her hand—the same one that happened to be adorned with a special trinket of jewelry and when she noticed, Buffy had to forcefully keep her hand in place.

After several agonizingly slow seconds, Spike lifted his head and his blue eyes locked on her hazel jewels.

"Yeah," he said weakly, "and it means a lot to me, luv. More than I can express to you." And then, just like last night, everything was perfect. The room disappeared around them, and all that existed was Spike and Buffy, finally together, finally at peace with one another.

The moment passed as the phone rang, snapping them both out of their haze.

"Better get that, luv," Spike chided.

Reluctantly, Buffy rose from the bed and headed out the door. A split second later, she poked her head back in.

"Why don't we go to lunch after you get dressed," the Slayer suggested.

"Love to, but I have to get a room and…"

"Ok," she interrupted, "let me amend that. We are going to lunch after you get all goody smelling." And with a bright smile that tugged at Spike's heart, she was out the door.

Shaking his head, Spike swung his legs out from under the covers and placed them on the soft carpet. The fabric under his bare feet relaxed him, something he hadn't really felt since stepping through the door last night, or rather, this morning. If he was going to face the gauntlet that was in store for him, he needed all the relaxation he could get.

After a few minutes of stretching, Spike grabbed his toiletries from his bag and walked into the bathroom. His thoughts turned to Buffy and the new light that radiated from her. Whatever had happened after he left had given Buffy that same bright light he remembered seeing when he first laid eyes on her all those years ago. He still couldn't fathom the depths of her resolve. It was only one thing on the list of many that he loved about her. That made him fall so helplessly in love with her again. That wasn't exactly true, though, now was it? He had never fallen out of love with her to start with. Being with her, though, did make him love her even more, something he thought wasn't possible.

But she had moved on, so he had to do the same. He didn't deserve her, never did and he had to get used to that fact. The upside was that she had made sure that he would become a part of her life again and even that felt like it was too good for him.

Lost in his thoughts, as the heated water cascaded down his skin, Spike didn't even notice the fact that he was now in the room that had changed his life forever…

Twenty-five minutes later, Spike was dressed and headed downstairs. He wore a white tank top with coal-black khakis and black designer boots. His hair, still wet, bounced atop his head as he clamored down the steps with a bright smile on his face. As much as he tried, he couldn't hide his excitement for spending the day with his new friend--Buffy. Though a part of him lamented at the 'friend' aspect of it all, he couldn't help but remain grateful for her offering that.

Hopping over the banister, Spike landed on the balls of his feet, hardly making a sound. Still got some of the Big Bad left, I do. The shower had eased much of the tension that the coming day brought and he had decided that, before the debacle that would be his re-acquaintance with the Scoobies, he would have all the fun he could stand. Starting with sneaking up on the Slayer.

As the kitchen came into view, he saw her sitting on the island, her back turned. She was staring out the window, her head cocked to the side. This is just too perfect; he thought and was about to make his move when she spoke.

"Garrett, stop," she chuckled. Spike stiffened at the way she said the man's name, a flare of jealousy rippling through him.

"I don't know when," Spike noticed her voice had become more serious. "No, it's okay. I mean I know this is hard on you, too. I'm glad you understand…whatever--jerk," he knew she was trying to hide her smile at the last comment. Not wanting to intrude (and definitely not wanting to hear her say something that would surely break his heart) Spike leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed at the chest before coughing discreetly.

Buffy yelped at the cough, jumping off the island and dropping the phone. She picked it up and glared evilly at Spike, whose only reply was the traditional smirk.

"Sorry, ba…Garrett. Oh, nothing. It was no on…" she stopped after catching the tinge of hurt that crossed Spike's face before amending her statement. "It's one of my best friends…the one I went to see in San Diego…yes, Garrett, him…. Please don't start with that--I'm gonna have my hands full already when it comes to Xander and Dawn…**she laughed**…you two are just alike…" Spike saw the smile disappear and a frown crease her face. "Garrett, look, if I can get over it, you can too…shit, Xander shouldn't have even told you…Yeah, that's part of the reason, but you and I both know how he feels about Spike and he just wanted someone else to hate him too…. But you should know, I told you what happened…you didn't need to know all of it…okay, this is getting no where and I have to go…no, I am not trying to avoid it…ok, well maybe I am…out to lunch. Anything else, oh Emperor of Buffy? --Shut up. Okay, talk to you later."

She clicked off the cordless, set it on the island, and stared intently at Spike. Though he was slightly (no, very) disappointed at Buffy's obvious affection for whomever was on the other line, he was determined not to let it ruin his day--well not too much, at least.

"So," he said and sauntered into the kitchen, his shirt clinging to his muscles, "who was the git on the other end?"

Buffy stared at Spike, though there was hardly any malice in it. In truth, it was quite the opposite.

Although she had seen him shirtless earlier in bed, she really didn't get as good a look as she was getting now. He had put on about twenty pounds of muscle. His chest, though retaining that steely hardness, puffed out more and his arms were even more defined (though she noticed they weren't super-veiny, thank goodness) His legs were also affected by the change, his thighs in particular--that much was evident even through the loose fitting khakis.

After the once-over, Buffy realized she was staring and a hot flush crept up her face and neck. Spike laughed to himself, though on the outside he maintained the same sultry veneer. At least I know I still affect her, he told himself, registering the glazed over look of lust he was all-too familiar with.

Taking in the rest of the scene before him, Spike whistled appreciatively at her attire. Her hair was braided in a tight ponytail and she was wearing a crème-colored tank top that exposed her midriff if she raised her arms slightly. Matching Capri pants and a pair of Skechers completed the ensemble.

He stopped about a foot in front of her and, despite his lessened senses, he could still smell the tinge of arousal intermixed with her vanilla shampoo. Deciding to be bold, Spike leaned over to her, brushing his cheek against her and whispered in her ear, "Very nice."

Buffy could hardly breathe. This close to him was too much. What pissed her off, though she was powerless to fight it, was the fact that she knew he was doing this on purpose. As his skin brushed against hers, that same aching pressure, too low to mention, coursed through her and she wanted nothing more than to feel all of him against her.

As he pulled away, Buffy unconsciously placed her hand on his chest. Spike was caught off-guard by this, considering that he was the one that was supposed to be playing the game. Her tiny hand burned through him, effecting him no less than it did when his skin was cool. It was different but, at the same time, familiar. He stared down into her eyes, as lust-filled as he had ever seen them. Her lips were slightly parted and her chest heaved up and down. Her neck craned forward minutely but it was enough to spark him to action.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Buffy realized what was going to happen as Spike leaned down, his lips parting further with every inch he closed between them. Part of her was screaming not to, reminding her of Garrett while the other part wanted nothing more than to have him on the floor. As it was, a third part won out, waiting for him to make contact before deciding…

Spike's heart was hammering in his chest as he closed the gap between Buffy's lips and his own. His forehead had broken out in a light sweat when she had first touched him and now, he felt a trickle of perspiration claw down the side of his face. The hands that were once dormant at his side were now lightly grasping Buffy by the waist, pulling her forward. They were almost there and, on instinct, he closed his eyes, noticing before he did, that Buffy did the same. For two years, he had dreamed about this moment, never expecting it to happen. But it was about to happen. So close…so close…so…

"Hey, Buffy I forgot my…" the voice came as the back door was pulled open. The former lovers jumped at the noise and backpedaled from one another, shocked by what had almost happened.

"Spike?" Came the familiar voice of the teen and both finally cast eyes toward the door. Standing with her eyes bulging, mouth agape, was Dawn.

"Hey, Niblet," Spike managed, running a hand through his moist hair. Though his heart hammered in his chest, it was fear that now drove it. He forced himself to look his Niblet in the eye and was almost elated at what he saw.

Her brilliant embers lit up with love and excitement at seeing him and, for a moment, her joy was barely contained. But as moments are, it passed and what took its place broke Spike's heart.

Her green eyes held a gaze as cold as Spike had seen any demon with. Her face was a mask, unreadable though everything was in her eyes. The cold gaze not only held hurt and contempt, but a loathing Spike had not known her capable of. And when she spoke, her voice razor sharp and unforgiving, Spike tried to force the tears from welling.

"What the hell are you doing here?" All he could do was close his eyes because he knew the tears would not listen.

**Am I wrong or what? Well, I should have part five up no later than next Tuesday. I'm starting up Part II of Family Ties, so I will have to split time between the two.

**I have a lot planned for Spike and Buffy and some stuff you will love and other stuff--well, I won't tell you. You'll just have to read--and review. 8-)