Chapter Thirteen: Miss Me Much?


The crowd gaped at the all too familiar face. "Do I get an invite or are you all just gonna stand there like a bunch of buggering trout?" Spike asked.

Willow was the recover. Even so her voice was shaky. "Oh, goddess, yes. Oh, come in."

Spike smiled appreciatively and stepped over the threshold. "Nice place you have here," he commented. "Not quite Sunnyhell, though." He looked around at the people staring at him, "Bloody hell, people, would you quit?"

"We're sorry, it's just..." Xander said and gestured towards the bleached wonder, "It's you."

Andrew flung himself at Spike hugging him tightly. "I'm so glad you're back!"

Spike squirmed against Andrew's vice like grip. He pried the boy off, "Sod off, Andrew," he said partially embarrassed, partially disgusted.

"Guess we can rule out that he's a ghost," Amanda said trying to lighted the heavy tension in the air.

"And the First," Xander added. "So," he eyed Spike warily, "What are you?"

"He's human. Given a second chance in life," Andrew said in awe still smiling dreamily at Spike.

Spike rolled his eyes, "Much as I'd like to chat here about my return, there's someone I need to see first."

Dawn, who had been oddly silent ever since she opened the door, spoke up. "She left."

Spike turned to her. His blood warmed when he saw his Nibblet. She had gotten so tall since... since he had last seen her. He smiled, " 'Lo Dawn." She returned an icy glare, "Buffy went to L.A."

"Why?"

"To find you actually," Giles said removing his glasses and cleaning them. "She found out that you were alive."

"How?" Spike looked around at bewildered faces until his gaze landed on a sheepish Andrew.

"I was cleaning the phone receiver!" He exclaimed.

Spike sighed exasperated. "Whatever. Where is she now?"

"She should be at the airport," Faith said checking her wristwatch. "HE plane don't leave for like, half an hour.

"Right then," Spike turned to leave the faced Dawn. He leaned forward giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "I missed you, Nibblet."

Dawn's face broke into a warm grin and her blue eyes filled with tears. "You'd better go," she said. He cast a lingering gaze into her eyes and he knew she had forgiven him for everything. He nodded at everyone and left.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Spike broke every speeding law as he drove to the airport in record time. HE wasn't even sure how he had remembered to get to the airport from Buffy's new house, but he did. Just like he knew where Buffy's house was when all he had received were vague directions from Peaches. He knew where she lived, he'd always know how to find her. It was like instinct, she was a beckoning light to bring him safely to shore.

He didn't even bother parking the rental car Angel has set him up with. He just drove right up to the loading area.

"Sir, you'll have to park your car in the designated area," A young valet said running up to him.

"Tow it!" Spike yelled over his shoulder as he ran inside. His heart pounded in his chest as he glanced around. Business men and women in suits, carrying briefcases, talking on their cell phones, families with screaming children. Spike ran to the nearest information desk, shoving people aside to make his way to the front.

"Sir, you going to have to wait in line," the receptionist told him.

" I just need to find out what gate a plane takes off at," Spike said.

"Sir, you need to wait in line then," the pretty receptionist repeated.

"Listen, Jackie," he said reading her name tag. He gave her his best seductive, puppy dog eyes. The eyes that always worked on Buffy. "Jackie, love, please, could you tell me where gate the plane leaving from here to Los Angeles is?" She eyed him doubtfully. "You see, my girl didn't know I was coming to surprise her and now she's going to L.A thinking I'm still over there, but I'm not. I need to catch her before she gets on that plane. So, could you help a poor, lovesick fool?"

Jackie looked at him for a moment. He didn't look like a terrorist, or a stalker. In fact, he looked like a rock star, leather clad, bleached hair, dreamy accent. But it was his eyes, filled with a kind of honesty, hope and love that persuaded the girl who grew up loving romance stories. Her face softened, "All right," she tapped a few buttons on her keyboard. "The only flight leaving from Cleveland to L.A is American Airlines flight 148, gate 9."

"One four eight at gate nine," Spike repeated. "Thanks pet," he flashed her a smile and took off. Up the escalator and towards the gate, towards her. He wished he still had his vampire abilities, so he could move with lightning fast speed. It'd save a whole mess of time. Time. It'd been too long since he'd seen her. He saw her every night in his dreams, every time he closed his eyes to drown out Angel's constant droning. He saw her tear-filled eyes as she gazed up at him in the crumbling cave, saying the words he had longed to hear for almost two years. He saw her terrified face the night he tried... he couldn't even think the words or the action, he hated himself wholly for that. One of the reasons he had stayed with Angel was to figure out how to deal with his soul, with his conscience. He couldn't yet forgive himself for what he had done in the past, especially what he had done to her. Until he did, he couldn't face her, not even to see her for a moment. Because if he had seen her before now, he wouldn't have been able to look at her.

He shook his head. All that time with Angel had made him seriously wiggy. Spike sprinted all the way to the end of the airport. Of course her gate was farthest from the information desk, the fates weren't about to make things any easier for them. He jogged up to the counter. Out of breath he demanded, "Flight 147! Where is it?"

The young man behind the counter smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry, sir, but the plane has already departed. If you've missed your flight you can resched-..." Spike slammed his fist on the counter and turned away from the young man. He had missed her. Now she was on her way to L.A, where Angel was, where he wasn't.

Spike wanted to throw a tantrum. Throw chairs. kick things, and yell but he didn't retain the vampire strength he once had and he sort-of didn't want to cause a scene in a public place. One thing Angel had taught him while he stayed in L.A was discretion, though the poofter still thought Spike was a glory hound.

So, instead of acting on his emotions, he clenched his fists and grumbled a slew of curses. "Augh!" He tilted his head to the ceiling and let out a roar. The young man at the counter and an old couple walking by looked at him in bewilderment. Spike didn't feel any better so he walked over to the parallel rows of chairs and flopped down on the hard seats. He seethed, mostly at himself. He should've left sooner. He should've went looking for her the moment he came back. He bent his head down and ran his hands threw his wavy hair.

A few minutes passed, and Spike just sat there. He couldn't think of what to do next. He could either go back to Buffy's house and call Angel telling him to expect her, he liked that choice the least, or he could wait here for the next plane to Los Angeles. But he couldn't seem to bring himself to get up. Spike let a few more minutes pass by before his ears picked up the young man talking.

"I'm sorry, miss, but flight one four seven to Los Angeles has already left," he said in that apologetic voice that reminded Spike of Andrew.

"But..." a new voice spoke up. "You don't understand I need to get to L.A. He's over there."

There was no mistaking that voice. Spike could never forget that voice even if he tried.

"I'm really sorry, you can reschedule," the young man suggested.

Spike stood up slowly turning to the voice. The silhouette of her body and her long blond hair, it was her. Suddenly, she stopped talking and whirled around, her hair catching and glittering in the sunlight flooding in through the windows. They stared at each other, not trusting their eyes. Spike made the first move, stepping towards her. Buffy dropped her suitcase and also started towards him. They kept walking towards each other until they were maybe twelve inches away. Buffy reached up to touch his face, caressing her fingers over his scarred eyebrow and down his sharp cheekbone.

Spike closed his eyes, her touch sent little sparks off like explosions under his skin. When he opened his eyes, tears were sparkling in her green eyes and this time he reached out, running a crooked finger under her eyes catching a single tear. "I..." He started to speak but he couldn't think of one word to say. In an instant, she pressed her soft lips against his, kissing him.

He pulled back, reluctantly breaking the kiss. "Miss me much?" He asked.


To be continued...