CHAPTER 8
Under The Stars

His body was itching to go to her, to be with her. He was pacing below his crypt, trying to quell the desire. It couldn't go on like this, it was killing both of them, and one of them had to be the stronger one and step back. And why the fuck was it you, mate? he asked himself for the gazillionth time.

What the hell was that about loving you anyway? his brain continued, seemingly determined to make his life even more of a hell at that moment. You've been close enough to her long enough to see that she'll never love you. You're just a roll in the hay for her, the demon in her sack. Now you've gone and ruined that over some stupid poofy whim –

He sighed and reached for his bourbon. More than a whim, he retorted to his inner self. This is the real thing. For me, at least ... not for her. And once more I'm left drunk, alone, and room temperature. Should stake myself before I let this happen again ...

Just as he was preparing to drink himself once more into a brief oblivion, he heard the door to his crypt creak open upstairs. He stiffened out of instinct; if she jumped him the way she liked to do, he probably wouldn't be able to stop her or himself, as usual. But hearing the soft footsteps down the ladder, he frowned, and turned around. As expected, it was the Slayer standing there. But at the same time it wasn't. This girl had a look he'd never seen on Buffy's face before, and her make-up was washed away with her tears, leaving her looking innocent and seventeen again.

She seemed to be searching for words. He watched her struggle for several seconds. "You're barefoot," he finally commented offhandedly.

She glanced down. "So I am."

"Your feet will get cold," he told her. The tone of his voice was flat and indiscernible.

"They already are." And hers matched it.

They stared at each other. It was her move, and Spike was waiting.

All of a sudden, Buffy spun around. "Stupid idea ..." she muttered to herself.

He watched her, confused. But what else was new?

And she found herself pausing at the ladder, before her bare feet could take themselves up the rungs. She rested her forehead on the cool stone of the wall beside her, trying to get herself under control.

"Buffy," he said. Not asking, not seducing, simply saying her name as if for the first time.

Thinking is overrated, she told herself. Slowly she turned back to face him. "You're everything I hate, Spike," she told him softly. "You're everything I'm supposed to be against. But the only time I really feel anything is when ..." She drew in a breath, blew it out. "Somewhere," she continued, as if she was figuring it out no sooner than the words could come out of her mouth, "somewhere between ... fucking you, messing with your head, confiding in you ... somewhere along the line, Spike –" and only now did she look into his eyes, "– I think I fell in love with you."

He was still and silent for so long that she thought he hadn't heard her at all, or that she'd just imagined that she'd said it. Then she saw his eyebrow – the one with the scar – give a twitch. "Funny," he croaked. "Good joke there, Slayer. But to tell you the truth I'm not really in the mood for laughs right now."

"Damn it, Spike! Why do you always have to be so goddamn stubborn?"

"Why should I believe you?" he growled. "You've done nothing but torment me. Why would now be any different?"

She lifted her eyes to face him, and their gazes locked. Slowly, as if she was in a daze, Buffy walked towards him. She stood before him and tentatively reached up to touch his face, to trace the contours of his cheekbones. "Because things change," she said softly. "Things don't stay the same forever. People change. And I think you've proven to me –" she rested her hand on his chest, "demons can change too."

He drew in a breath, wanting to believe her. "Buffy, I have no way of knowing whether you'll be here tomorrow or whether these words of yours will be nothing but poppycock, and you'll have had enough of me once and for all. And I –"

She stopped his mouth with a quick kiss. "You're right," she continued as his eyes widened. "You have no way of knowing. You just have to trust me." She was making it impossible for him to look away. "Do you trust me?"

"God, do I want to ..." he said desperately.

She stepped back. The pain in her eyes was too much. "But ... you don't," she said slowly. There's nothing more to say. She turned and walked slowly towards the ladder again.

Her foot was on the first rung, and she heard him swear softly – and then just like that, he was behind her, beside her, all around her ... she whipped around just as he crushed his mouth to hers, pushing her back against the wall. Everything they'd ever done before had been hard and bruising, but this was something else. He was slow, languid, passionate ... romantic. She felt her body responding in ways it never had before. This is the man I love ...

She pushed him back. "I love you, Spike," she said forcefully, a slight tremor still in her voice. But truth was there too, and undeniable, and Spike stood staring at her for several seconds before the most dazzling smile spread over his face.

"Falling in love with a vampire," he tutted her, gently teasing. Before she realized what he was doing he had swept her off her feet in one smooth motion. She giggled, her arms locked around his neck. "Now you know that's wrong." He carried her to his bed and set her gently on the satin sheets.

"Maybe so," she said, smiling, "but for the moment ..." she gasped as he lowered his head to gently suck on her jugular. Her fingers curled in the hair at the nape of his neck and she pulled him up to look at her. "It feels oh so right," she finished breathlessly.

His lips were parted, he was breathing hard. He was breathing? "Why are you breathing?" she asked him.

"I don't know," he confessed slowly. "And I don't care." Before she knew it he was kissing her, he was kissing her ... it was slow, and it was unbearably sweet. He gently explored her lips and mouth with his tongue, engaging her in the sensual dance.

He laid her down on her back on his bed. She started to swiftly pull her dress over her head, too used to the hurried sex they usually had, but he stopped her. "There's no hurry, pet," he said, kissing her fingers. "I want to make slow, blinding, amazing love to you, Buffy."

She let out a little moan at his words, and allowed him to kiss his way along her jaw, agonizingly slow. His mouth traveled down to her shoulder, and he bit the thin shoulder strap of her dress, teasingly tugging it down with his teeth. Those little moans kept escaping from her, and finally he had the dress off and tossed it aside. For a moment he simply hovered above her, drinking in the sight of her golden body, dressed in only a pair of black bikini briefs.

"My god, Buffy," he said softly. "You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?"

She blushed. After all they'd done, all he'd said to her, she blushed when he said she was beautiful. He fell in love with her even more.

He leaned in to kiss her again, as her hands worked on his shirt, desperately trying to undo the many buttons. Finally it was off and sliding down his shoulders, and she ran her hands up and down his arms and chest.

She broke away from the kiss, laughing. "Are you purring?" she asked.

How did he manage a look that was both adorably sheepish and completely sexy at the same time, she wondered. "Guess so, luv."

"Mmmm," she said, pulling him back. "I like it."

His hand was tracing its way back up her thigh, thumb hooking in her panties and tugging them down. She fumbled to undo his belt. He dipped his hand between her legs, finding her already wet. He stroked and gently caressed her, as she moaned and softly thrashed, loving his touch, loving him.

He was so hard just at the sight of her like this, and the thought that this time, it was so much more than physical.

His fingers had found her clit, and were pinching and rubbing in the most amazing way, when her eyes opened and she shoved his hand away. She locked her legs around his middle.

"I need to feel you inside me," she whispered.

He needed no encouraging. Gently, slowly, slower than he'd ever gone before, he slid himself into her. They both gasped; they'd had each other so many times, but tonight was infinitely different.

Spike began to pump, slowly but surely. She locked her legs tighter, pressing him closer, urging him deeper.

"Oh god," she moaned. He was so deep, deeper than she'd ever let him go. And she could feel him to close to that spot, that sweet spot that none of the others had ever touched. He moaned, and pulled back, almost all the way out, before thrusting completely back in again.

Her eyes shot open as she felt the tip of his cock hit her g-spot. "Yes, baby, come for me Buffy," he murmured. He pulled back again, till just the head of his cock was enveloped in her pussy, then rammed back in. She gasped loudly. "Yes, yes, yes," she moaned, tossing her head from side to side.

His eyes rolled back into his head. "Buffy ..." he groaned. "Come for me, luv, I want you to scream ..."

"Spike!" she gasped. He was pumping faster, each thrust hitting that spot just the right way, the pleasure was so unbearable ... "Oh God, yes!" she wailed.

His teeth clenched, he threw his head back. "Slayer," he groaned.

"Spike!" she cried again. With one last thrust, the dam broke in both of them and they let out simultaneous howls.

She lay panting underneath him as he remained sheathed in her, both of them unwilling to give up the contact.

"God," she breathed, "that was –"

"Yeah," he said.

"I – "

"You – "

They both laughed. Spike's head was laying on her shoulder, and she ran a hand through his sweat-soaked curls. "When did this get so right?"

"It's always been right for me, pet," he murmured, kissing her neck.

"I know," she said. "But ... it hasn't been right for me." She looked at him solemnly. "I was messed up ... maybe I still am. But I know I was using you, Spike. I know how I was treating you, and it wasn't good. I'm sorry ... I'm so sorry, Spike ..."

"Here now," he said softly, wiping with his knuckle at the tears beginning to fall, "don't cry, Slayer."

"I'm just sorry," she whispered again as she buried her face against him.

"I know, pet," he soothed. "And I forgive you. Sometimes I hated your guts, but I never stopped loving you. It doesn't matter at all."

"God, I love you," she said.

Another slow grin spread across his face. "I shall never get tired of hearing that," he declared.

"I really thought she'd be ... well, over it by now," Willow said with a sigh.

"Well, you did snatch her out of heaven, can't forget that," Anya reminded her.

Willow glared at her and rolled her eyes. "Thanks ever so much, Anya, I'd completely forgotten. I know she was heaven, I just ... I mean, it's been nearly five months. And sometimes she seems ..."

"Completely normal," Xander finished.

"Yes," Willow frowned.

"But she's not," Giles said solemnly.

"It's hard to imagine just how she felt ... how she feels," Anya agreed.

"But you gotta admit," Xander insisted, "there are times when she really is happy, when she looks at us and talks to us and she's our Buffster again."

Tara stood by the front window of the store. She wasn't sure exactly what to say at this particular Scooby meeting. She'd studied Buffy, quietly, perhaps more closely than any of them. Xander was right, there were times when Buffy was fully alive again, but there were times when she might as well be a walking corpse ... which, in a way, she kind of was. The changes were extreme and mysterious. Tara sighed quietly, and gazed out the window onto the moonlit, empty street.

"Yes ..." Giles said slowly, "yes, you're right, Xander. But those moments of happiness are not getting any more frequent. She's not going anywhere with them; she's stuck in one place."

"Right. So, what I propose we do is find just what the source of this goodness is," Xander declared.

Willow gave him a skeptical look. "Xander, you have no way of knowing that her moments of happiness are caused by just one thing."

"No, but they might be."

Staring outside, Tara was startled to see a couple walking down the street – who in Sunnydale would be taking a lover's stroll at this time of night? But as the couple came closer, their faces became clearer. Tara's eyes widened, but after the initial shock she gave a small smile. Who else would be taking a lover's stroll at this time of night?

"That's not much of a plan, Xander."

"Come on, honey, back me up!"

"Why? You never back me up."

Buffy and Spike walked slowly down the deserted street, hands clasped, heads inclined slightly towards one another. Sharpening her Sight, Tara looked at the couple through a seer's eyes. Neither one of their individual auras showed at all; both were covered by a gentle yet steel-strong pink glow, shimmering with promise.

"I do too back you up! An, come on –"

"Anya, Xander, for god's sake, would you two please stop behaving like squalling infants –"

"Tara?" Willow interrupted the growing argument to peer up towards the front of the shop. "What are you doing up there?"

Tara watched as Spike pulled Buffy closer to him and laid a gentle kiss on her temple, before tearing her eyes away and looking at her girlfriend. "Nothing, sweetie," she said with a slightly secretive smile. "Just looking at the stars. They're beautiful tonight."

Buffy and Spike, Slayer and vampire, girl and boy, continued down the bare street, entwined with one another and oblivious to everything, under the nearly full moon and a vast, clear canopy of stars.