The wipers swished back and forth, bright streetlights gleaming against the wet windshield as Spike made his way down the avenue. "Fuck!" The expletive cut through the air and Spike let out a frustrated growl, clutching the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. He sighed deeply, half-tempted to just drive out of the city and never look back. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Buffy's green eyes staring back at him, a radiant smile on her face as she listened to his stories. Spike shook his head, he was so confused, his emotions were pulling him in a thousand directions and his head felt like it was going to explode. It was so easy to pretend that nothing had changed between them, but Spike knew that ignoring the past didn't make it go away.

Pulling into the parking garage of the hotel, Spike turned off the ignition. He stayed in the Jeep, clutching his head between his hands, "this is bloody brilliant. All the planning shot to shit in less then twenty-four hours." Slamming the door viciously, Spike stalked up the stairs to the lobby. He was furious with himself; somehow between the restaurant and Buffy's apartment he had lost his nerve. "And where did that get me," Spike growled to himself as he waited for the elevator to stop at his floor. "Nowhere! Instead of leaving this bloody City tonight, I've got to go pick up dinner..and not for me, but for her! Three years! I've had three years to get over her..but here I am, a glorified lap dog. All because she gave me that look..reduced to an idiot just because she smiled."

Spike threw his shoes across the room, ripping into a packet of blood with his fangs. "Some things never change," he snarled, not bothering to shake off his game face. He was too angry with himself to even care. Draining the plastic bag, Spike grabbed another from the fridge. Without even heating it up, he bit into the plastic, drawing out the crimson liquid. "I used to be the Scourge of Europe," he lamented to the empty room, "now look at me. I'm right pathetic, chasing after a woman who'll never love me." He collapsed on the bed, still talking to himself, finding a bitter humor in the entire situation. "Sad thing is, I'd go to the ends of the bloody Earth for her. I'd do anything to get her back. Nothing to live for without her."

Shaking his head, Spike pulled a clean shirt out of his suitcase. "Bloody poetic shit," he muttered, dropping his sweater onto the bed. Ten minutes later, he was in the hallway, preparing to lock the door when Spike realized he had left his shoes in the room. "This woman is going to be the death of me," he growled, snatching his shoes from the carpeted floor before slamming the door shut.

Back in her apartment, Buffy dropped another shirt to the growing pile on her floor. "Too dressy, too old, no, definitely no, ick, no, is this even mine, oh God no, maybe in ten years, no, no." She kept up the running commentary, flipping through her shirts quickly. "How hard is it to find something to wear," she complained, sticking her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. Pulling out a violet long-sleeved shirt, Buffy tilted her head critically, "this might work." She yanked it over her head, spinning slowly in the mirror, trying to see what was wrong with her reflection. The stretchy fabric clung to her thin frame, showing off her figure without being too sexy. Both the front and the back had a deep v-neckline, and the bell sleeves covered her wrists, leaving her tiny hands peeking out from beneath the light-colored material. "Yeah, this'll work," she said, brushing out her long blonde hair before twisting it back into a loose bun. Buffy slid her feet into sandals, her boots looked too dressy and slippers looked too casual, she justified to herself.

The den seemed too quiet and Buffy sank into her favorite armchair with a sigh. No matter how awkward the last few hours had been, she was glad to see Spike. There was something about the blonde vampire that made her feel like she was floating and drowning, all at the same time. "Now if only I can tell him how sorry I am," Buffy mused. She sat back in the chair, waiting for Spike to come back with dinner as the rain continued to pour down outside.

"Bloody hell," Spike cursed as he left the restaurant, a large brown bag of food in his arms. By the time he got to the car the paper bag was completely soaked through and the water was dripping off his duster. He put the bag on top of the Jeep's roof, reaching into the pocket of his duster for the car keys. "All this for her dinner," he muttered, steering the car back towards Buffy's apartment, "hope she appreciates it." He had gotten a wide array of food from the small take-out restaurant, not sure what was going to taste good and what wasn't. "Does the rain never stop in this damn city," Spike complained as he pulled out into the street, making sure that the soggy bag was beside him. The drive back was shorter then he thought it would be, there was less traffic and fewer pedestrians to dodge.

Twenty minutes later Spike was standing in front of her apartment door, shifting the damp bag in his hands. He raised his hand to knock but Buffy opened the door before his knuckles could make contact. "Thought I heard you," she said, stepping aside to let him in. Spike chuckled, "I come bearing dinner," he said with an exaggerated bow, setting the bag down on the coffee table. "And my car keys," Buffy asked, her sculptured eyebrows rising expectantly. Tossing the keys towards her, Spike knelt down to unpack the containers, "Jeep's back in one piece." Buffy put the keys on their hook before walking into the kitchen to get napkins. "That's good to know," she muttered softly, glad that Spike hadn't changed his mind.

She had been pacing the apartment, not sure that he was really going to come back. Her insecurities were running in high gear and Buffy was struggling to keep calm. She reached into the cabinets, grabbing two glasses. "Do you want something to drink," she called into the living room, "I have water, iced tea and more water." Spike chuckled, "water's fine." Buffy nodded, filling both glasses with ice before topping them off with water. "Napkins," she murmured absently before picking up the two glasses. Walking back into the living room, Buffy took a deep breath. This shouldn't be that bad, she thought, it's just dinner.

Her coffee table was covered with small white containers, wisps of steam releasing spicy aromas into the air. "This smells great," Buffy exclaimed, sitting opposite Spike who was lounging comfortably on her floor. "Wasn't sure what to get," he said sheepishly, gesturing to all the containers that covered the table. Now that it was all out of the soggy bag, he was starting to wonder if he'd gotten too much food. Buffy smiled, "it's alright. Besides, I'm hungry." Spike bit back a comment about her needing to eat more, she was skinnier then he had remembered.

He passed Buffy a wrapped package of chopsticks, "dig in." Buffy smiled, her voice teasing, "so you want me to take the first taste?" Spike sighed, muttering something about women, his chopsticks dipping into the container of beef and broccoli. "Happy now," he mumbled, popping the green vegetable into his mouth. She nodded, unwrapping her own chopsticks, wondering if she should go get plates. As if he read her mind, Spike said, "if you don't mind sharing the cartons, we can just pick out of these. Instead of dirtying plates." She nodded, "that works." Picking up a container of rice, Buffy picked at a few grains, trying to remember how to use chopsticks. Spike pushed a container of chicken into her hands, "try that. Bigger pieces are easier to start with."

She glanced up, looking for the sweet and sour sauce, but he had already put it in front of her. "Thanks," she mumbled around a mouthful of food. Spike nodded, watching Buffy intently. "This is good," Buffy murmured, reaching for another container, this one filled with dumplings. From underneath her eyelashes, Buffy studied Spike; his pale lips were curled around the chopsticks, his blunt teeth piercing a piece of shrimp. Buffy dropped her gaze, hoping that he did not notice the flush of her cheeks or sense the rapid beating of her heart. After so many years apart she could still think Spike was sexy, it was just too much to watch his lips encircling the piece of shrimp. Her palms trembled and she took several deep breaths, trying to quell the urge to lean across the table and kiss Spike senseless.

The chopsticks trembled violently in her hand as Buffy struggled to avoid looking at Spike. Her throat closed when she looked down at the food and she tried to ignore the pressure in her chest as a slow heat invaded her body. I can't do this, she thought anxiously, pushing herself up from the coffee table. Spike cocked an eyebrow in her direction as Buffy scurried past him, mumbling something about getting more water. Clenching his hands in tight fists, Spike struggled to regain control of himself; the Slayer could still render him defenseless with a single wide-eyed glance.

In the safety of the kitchen, Buffy ran tap water into a clean glass and pressed the cool liquid against her forehead. Bracing herself against the counter, she allowed her head to drop, attempting to regain control of herself. Her stomach was fluttering and she knew that it was too dangerous to be in the same room as Spike. The conflicting emotions she was feeling were torture; one part of her yearned to kiss Spike and forget the last few years, yet her more rational side needed to move on and avoid reopening old wounds. A cold hand between her shoulder blades shattered her thoughts, the fingertips icy against her exposed skin.

"Buffy, are you alright," Spike asked, his voice thick with concern. She shook her head, blonde hair swishing across her face with the force. "What's wrong," he pressed. Buffy turned around to face Spike and the tears glistening in her eyes shocked him. "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I'm so sorry." Spike's forehead furrowed in confusion, "sorry for what? What're you talking about?" She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "Buffy, look at me," he ordered gently, his throat closing at the sight of her tear-stained face. Her dull green eyes looked back at him, her chin quivering uncontrollably. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, "I'm sorry I did this to you." Spike sighed deeply, his thumbs gently caressing the rivers of tears that cascaded over her cheeks. "You don't have anything to be sorry for," he said, his hands falling back to his sides in defeat.

She opened her mouth to protest but his upraised hand stopped her. "Listen to me," he said, his voice tired, "this wasn't your fault." Buffy shook her head, "yes it is, I lied to you. I didn't tell you right away about my job offer and I let you find out in the most terrible way possible. You were right Spike, I jumped into this headfirst and didn't even think about you." She swallowed hard, trying to get all the words out before dissolving into a sobbing mess. "And I'm so sorry. Not just because I took this job without telling you. I'm sorry because I hurt you.and that's the last thing I wanted to do. I love you so much... and I wanted to tell you how sorry I was.but I couldn't because I was too proud and too scared...and now I'm just scared.but it's too late."

Spike hooked his fingers under Buffy's chin, his blue eyes piercing through hers. "Why is it too late," he asked, confusion reflected in his azure depths. Buffy sniffed, "because you don't love me anymore." If possible, Spike's face paled even more then its normal alabaster shade. "Where did you get that from," he growled softly, yellow flecks glittering in his suddenly stormy eyes. The emotions coursed through him like wildfire as he waited for her answer, in those few seconds he felt everything that stretched between anger and remorse. She looked down again, studying the tile pattern on her kitchen floor. Buffy didn't have an answer for him, she just couldn't fathom Spike still caring about her; she had been so terrible to him, she didn't deserve his love. "Look at me," Spike ordered, tired of waiting for her to find the right words. She complied, her eyes lifeless. "I never stopped loving you," Spike said, his voice no louder then a whisper. "How could I?" Buffy stared at him in disbelief, trying to understand what he was saying to her, not ready to believe him.

"I wanted you to be happy," Spike said, "and I thought that this would make you happy." He gestured around the kitchen, "I though this was what you wanted, what you needed. A normal life." Buffy's eyes blazed, she hated that 'normal life' speech. Before Spike could continue, she grabbed his hands, crushing them between hers as she tried to get his attention. "What I needed was you," she said, her voice rising in desperation. She let go of his hands, turning back towards the sink, clutching the countertop tightly. "I don't care about normal.don't you get that by now?" Spike shook his head, not knowing what to say.

Buffy's face brightened, her green eyes more alive then before; she finally knew how to explain it to Spike. Turning around, Buffy faced him, wiping the tears away from her face. "You told me once, that the day I sussed out what I wanted that there would be a parade. Remember?" Spike nodded, he wasn't sure where she was going with this trip through their past. "With seventy-six bloody trombones," he added softly. "Right. Well I figured it out. I know what I want." Buffy paused, once she said the words there was no turning back. Taking a deep breath, she ignored the voice of insecurity that was telling her to stop talking. "What do you want," Spike asked, his face a casual mask of indifference. "I want you," Buffy said, "if you can forgive me.. but if you can't.."

Spike's hand covered her mouth; "if you forgive me for being such an ass." Buffy stopped fighting back the tears that were stinging her eyes; she nodded emphatically, not trusting her voice. He smiled, "so can I." Taking a hesitant step closer, he held out his arms to Buffy who flung herself into the familiar embrace. Wrapping his arms around her, Spike kissed the top of her head, pulling her body against his. "I'm so sorry," he whispered into her hair. She lifted her head, her fingers grazing his lower lip, "no more talking," she murmured, "just kiss me."

Buffy wrapped her arms around his shoulders as Spike pulled her close to his body, crushing his lips to hers. They kissed hungrily for several minutes, long kisses filled with desire that left them both breathless. Breaking the connection, Spike pulled away from Buffy to study her face, "is this what you want, pet," he asked. Time seemed to slow as he waited for an answer; the agonizing seconds settling heavily around his heart as he prepared himself for rejection. Breathlessly, the petite blonde answered, "yes." The rest of her words were forgotten as Spike pulled her to him, too many moments having passed since their last kiss.

Soon, Buffy could not control her longing anymore and she tugged at the buttons of Spike's shirt, needing more contact. Without ever breaking the embrace, she yanked his shirt off as her violet colored top fell to the floor in two ripped pieces. Spike alternating bruising kisses with gentle nips as he caressed her face and neck with his mouth. When his lips brushed to a tender spot on her collarbone, Buffy arched against him before whispering, "bedroom, now." Spike swung her into his arms. "Aren't you demanding," he gently teased, swiftly moving into her room. "You. Know. You. Love. It," Buffy replied, punctuating each word with a kiss.

Depositing Buffy on the bed, Spike kicked off his shoes and crawled up towards her. She was propped against the padded headboard, her blonde hair spayed around her face like a fairytale princess. Spike held himself over her body, leaning down to plunder her lips with his. She smiled, purring softly in contentment; tangling her hands in his unruly platinum curls, she guided his face down to hers. "Too many clothes," she breathed, her hands drifting towards his belt. Spike knelt before Buffy on the bed, pushing aside her trembling fingers. "Patience sweetheart," he murmured softly. Buffy rebelled beneath him, "patience later," she demanded. "Want you now. Missed you too much to wait.Need you now." Her words stunned Spike and Buffy took advantage of his momentary pause, reaching up to pull his face down to hers.

Hours later Buffy shifted in Spike's embrace, their bodies tangled beneath the rumpled sheets. His arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, pressing Buffy against his muscled chest, his free hand resting on her lower back. She let out a contented sigh, nuzzling his shoulder with the top of her head. Spike purred deep in his throat, the arm gripping Buffy tightened, pulling her even closer. For the first time in three years, they both slept peacefully, no longer plagued by dreams of what had been lost.