To Hold You Forever
A/N: Right, I realize this chapter is ridiculously short, but it was just the perfect place to end it before I got into all the angsty stuff with Giles... so I, er, ended it. I know I promised a Giles flashback in this chapter, but it didn't fit, definitely next chapter. Love to all of the reviewers! You people are my favourite people in the world!!!
Disclaimer: I own bull.
Buffy was still in the shower when Dawn and Andrew, who had been bickering in the kitchen, heard the front door open. Dawn almost flew down the hallway, not even pausing for an instant before hurling herself at Spike, burying her face in his shoulder.
"You are never leaving this house again," she muttered into his shoulder, Spike laughed, then pulled her back to get a better look at her.
"You've grown, Bit, proper young lady now," he remarked, kissing her forehead. "You don't look particularly surprised to see me- the Whelp tell you?" Xander made an indignant noise and Spike stuck his tongue out at him.
"Heard you on the phone, and, no I didn't tell Buffy," she grinned, "not in so many words, anyway."
"God I missed you," he laughed, pulling her to him again. "Where's Slayer?"
"Back bedroom- but she's showering," Dawn said, gesturing towards the hallway.
"And this is supposed to matter to me, why?" Spike asked. Dawn chuckled and moved to greet Xander, hugging the vampire tightly once more before she moved over.
"Spike- you going to go get her?" Dawn asked a few moments later, since Spike hadn't moved, then she followed his line of vision to the doorway, where, she noticed for the first time, Buffy was standing perfectly still. In a bra and panties, the red silk robe she'd been apparently holding at her feet on the floor.
When they reflected on the moment later, no one would know who had made the first move, it seemed like no time elapsed between when Spike and Buffy were just looking at each other, examining, looking for any changes and when Buffy was firmly ensconced in Spike's arms, sobbing into his shoulder as he smoothed down her hair. Dawn pulled Xander towards the hallway that lead to the entranceway and into the family room, grabbing Andrew, who had made his way into the corridor as she went.
"What, exactly, happened to nice, innocent, sweet little Dawnie?" Xander asked, sinking into one of the large armchairs in the room, not feeling particularly inclined to disobey Dawn at that moment.
"She spent quality time with her sister, probably," Andrew said, throwing himself down on the couch.Spike and Buffy held on to each other for what, to them, seemed like a few seconds, but in the real world, was almost an hour. Spike finally pulled back to see her face, to examine her closely, see if she was really as bad as Xander had said. She had been crying the entire time he'd been holding her, and the tears were still silently pouring down her face, he suppressed an urge to kiss them away, instead taking on cool hand and cupping her face, running his thumb along her wet cheek.
She took the moment to examine him, he was, if it was possible, paler than when she'd last seen him, and for once he hadn't gelled back his hair, or maybe he didn't do that at all anymore at all. He was wearing a duster- though she assumed it couldn't have been the one he'd taken from the Slayer thirty years ago. As he began to trace the contours of her face, she looked up into his clear blue eyes and pulled back suddenly. Spike flinched.
"You're dust," she informed him, "and I'm dreaming. And, while I'm going to admit it's a fabulous dream. It's just my subconscious giving me what I want."
"So, Slayer, you know what you want now?" Spike asked, remembering something he'd said a long time ago, and moving to get her back in his arms, he felt wrong without her touch, but she pulled back.
"All I want is you... and you're probably the one thing I can't have," she looked at the ground, then turned and slowly walked back to the doorway, where she'd left her robe, shrugging it on and willing herself to wake up. "Following this theory, I'm going to my bedroom to wait to wake up."
"And if you don't?" Spike asked, moving to follow her, intent on never letting her out of his sights again.
"I will, trust me, I will," she said, turning to look at him, "and when I do, you won't be there. Which, by the way, will hurt more than you could humanely imagine. So I'm cutting the pain short. You're dust, I'm alone. Period," she said, continuing to walk.
"This is real, Buffy, I'm standing right here," Spike said, she smiled wistfully.
"You tell me that every night," she said, "and every night, I know it's a lie. Tonight, I'm not listening."
"Buffy, you sodding idiot, I'm real, you're not dreaming, and you're making this entire sappy reunion thing really exasperating, I think you're the only person I know who could do that," Spike said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Now, pinch yourself or something to convince yourself you're not dreaming, and come here. I don't particularly want to spend another second without you."
"You never use my name," she whispered, bringing a hand to her arm and stabbing a nail into it, she flinched at the pain. "This is real." And this time there was no question of who made the first move as she hurled herself at him suddenly, burying herself into his duster, reveling in the smell of whiskey, cheap cologne, cigarettes and blood that was Spike. "You're real," she mumbled to his neck, "I missed you. And you're not leaving me ever again. I love you. And," she pulled back, looking into his eyes, but staying in his arms, "you once told me that saying that had nothing to do with you, well, at the time I didn't get it... but now I do. So, when I tell you I love you, and I don't give a damn what you think, I'm going to, it's never going to be about me, but it's never going to be about you. It's going to be about us." She paused, "there is going to be an us, isn't there? You're not going to up and lea-" she didn't get the words out of her mouth before he capture her lips with his.
They had kissed before, hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, but never softly. That just wasn't them. And, to both of them, this seemed like a first kiss. Tentative, filled with the promise of happily-ever-after, and, for once, it seemed simple. Girl meets boy simple, romantic comedy simple. Buffy and Spike simple. The gentle exploration of his mouth wasn't really exploration- she knew it inside out, every bump, the faint hint of his incisors and that indefinable taste, she was just reacquainting herself with it. He was doing the same thing, re-learning the ways to make her smile against his lips, tracing the words 'I love you' out with his tongue against the roof of her mouth.
"God, Slayer..." he breathed when they separated.
"You're good at synonyms," she giggled, resting her forehead against his, he smiled and bent down to kiss her on the lips.
"I am never letting you go again," he breathed, holding her waist tighter. "Ever."
"Good," she replied, "that is definitely a good thing." Spike chuckled. "You have no idea how much I missed you."
"I think I might," she smiled, "I missed you more. Ask anyone. How long have you been..." she trailed off, pulling back slightly, taking a deep breath. "How long have you been back?"
"Well, before I reply to that question I'm getting a very firm promise from you not to hit me until you hear the whole story, that a deal pet?" He asked, Buffy broke into a smile when he used the old nickname.
"Do you have any idea how much I missed your stupid pet names?" She laughed, "a man on the tube called me 'love' and I almost had a heart attack." Spike chuckled and captured her lips for another moment.
"Promise?" He asked.
"Anything," Buffy whispered , then considered it, "you'd better have a damned good excuse for not being on my doorstep the second you were back, or I will retract that promise."
"That defeats the purpose of a promise, love," Spike pointed out, kissing her lightly on the lips.
"Spi-ike," she whined, Spike laughed and kissed her again.
"Is there somewhere more comfortable we could go? It's a bit of a long story," he said.
"Kitchen's at the end of the hall, doorway closest to the table's my bedroom," she said, then pulled a hand up to his cheek, "our bedroom?" It was a question. Spike nodded, and his blue eyes clouded with tears, Buffy reached up and ran her index finger under his right eye, delicately trailing the nail along the skin.
"Yeah, love, our bedroom," he managed hoarsely. She smiled widely, and he couldn't help but hug her again. Then he swept her up in his arms, kissing her open lips as she gasped.
"Spike, what in hell's name are you doing?" She asked as he walked down the hallway.
"Why, carrying you over the threshold, of course, love."