The Smokin' by the Oak tree series- Tradition

Summary: As Buffy comes to her final realization about Spike, he has thoughts of his own… Fluff, up to 'Dead Things.'

Rating: PG- mild sexual content.

Disclaimer: You know the drill.. I don't own any of the Buffy material or characters, but if I did… mmmmmmm. Yummy Spikey!

A/N: In this chapter, I mention some slightly out of context things, including alcoholism. Though it isn't mentioned it the show, it is a theme strongly implied on Spike's part, and I share my thoughts on it at one point. Since this is slightly off cannon, I decided to add a little of a drabble, but tried to steer it as far away from satire as possible.

Thoughts

Flashbacks

Ah tradition- routines without change, something done on instinct, without thought. That is what this had become for Spike. Every night, standing out by the massive oak tree, with a slowly growing pile of cigarettes, staring up at her window, just to see her silhouette, just to be near her.

Tonight was no different. Sure enough, there he stood, cigarette hanging limp from his lips as his icy blue optics remained fixed on her window. She was sitting there, glancing out- almost as if looking for someone. So naturally, he'd slipped behind the oak tree to hide. Okay.. So that wasn't really natural for Spike at all. But considering the circumstances, and the situation they had managed to work themselves into, some how he just didn't feel that 'Buffy time' was what he needed at the time.

He hadn't dared to come around and try to see her all day, not after what happened the night before… the things he'd said. True, he didn't remember all of it, outside of going on an acrid drinking binge, but he recalled telling her to get out, and then seeing her with an expression like he'd never before witnessed.

She looked more hurt than he ever assumed she could be, and he'd been quite surprised with it, but then the pain faded into anger and she had stormed out without so much as a scornful glance.

His head still hurt from what he'd done after that. Hours of countless liquor bottles, all in the name of his moody midnight mistress, each to be drained quickly and shattered like his own image. Not to mention the few but fantastic drunken brawls down at Willie's, just to blow off some extra steam.

Besides, it wasn't like he had a problem with alcohol or anything of the sort! He thought about this for a moment, and grimaced slightly. Well.. not really anyway. But, this wasn't the time for those kinds of thoughts. Now, it was time to focus on his decided Golden Goddess.

Buffy, his power, pleasure and pain. His sugar, and his poison. His strength and his downfall. His sunshine, and his shadow, his angel and his cross, his only happiness and his most dreaded curse.. She was his sanity, and she was his screaming abyss.

He loved her, everything about her. Her wide, sparkling emerald eyes, her golden, wavy locks and the ay they bounced around her flawless angelic features. Even better, the way she flushed after he had finished with her, or the way her small hands would cling so mercilessly to his body. Sometimes he even got lovely little bruises and marks.

He loved how she seemed so pleased when he would whisper the affectionate little sonnets to her as they moved together.

"Buffy… so lovely. Tastes like sunshine and honey. My sunny, golden angel."

He smirked slightly and shook his head at this memory. "Bloody hell… William lives." he muttered to himself with a tone of good-natured disapproval. Just why did he love Buffy anyway? He knew that he shouldn't, that it was wrong. And he knew well that she would never return his feelings, never truly care for him.. He would never admit it, but deep down, in whatever it was that he called his heart, all stained and full of lies, bound and sealed off from the world of the living or the dead, he knew that she didn't care for him. In her eyes, he was an evil, disgusting thing.

Wasn't he? She'd always had a particular disliking for him, that he knew, but as of late.. didn't things seem to be looking up? She trusted him around the nibblet, even saw him as part of the group, in some odd, not-really-official-but-someone-expected sort of way. And of course, there were the nightly visits.

So yes, he concluded, he did love Buffy! And he would continue to pursue her until all that was left was her smile and his ashes. Instantly, he regretted the harsh manner or speaking he had taken to her the night before. Hadn't he always promised never to hurt her? But what if in her perspective, that promise was broken? What then? He started to wonder if maybe he had made a terrible mistake. Just as his musings were about to drive him to curses, he looked up to see Buffy, still sitting on her window sill, but this time with a glowing smile.

It was a radiant smile… glistening, gleaming.. it was effulgent.

Now many time Spike had been grateful for his vampire senses, but this time would top them all. Looking up, he strained his ears to catch four little words that would set him free, and then capture him again. Four tiny, sweet words that would bring him a bloody revelation!-

"William, I love you."

A shocked expression came over him, but quickly faded into a look of unspeakable happiness, and a dazzling grin lit up his features. His oceanic cerulean eyes sparkled genuinely, and he drew in a deep, though unneeded breath. "Yeah pet… love you, too." He whispered, his voice shaky, but silken.

With that, he tossed down his cigarette, and disappeared into the shadows, headed for his crypt to celebrate.