Chapter 3: Second Chances

While moonlight beams down on unforgettable, Billy Idol hair, a bewildered Spike tries to make sense of standing across from a face he never thought he'd see again. The vampire's strong brows lift gently in disbelief, his chest filling with an overwhelming warmth he had long forgotten. He reacquaints himself with the elegant features - her elegant features - that he used to know by heart: the perfect, angular nose and thin, rosy lips; the golden locks of shiny hair that drape around the sharp corners of her oval face; her bewitching, hazel eyes that sometimes made it hard to form comebacks; it was all still there and he had missed it completely. He had missed her completely.

"Are you real?" murmurs Buffy, seemingly to herself.

She studies him vigorously. Her eyes drift across his face and body - searching for some clue or sign or explanation - while she shakes in remembrance of the man she left behind in the Hellmouth. He stands inches away in his leather trench coat, wearing a demon-clawed black shirt soaked in blood, and with the same soft gaze painted across his face - the gaze he reserved only for her. His lips are slightly parted as if to say something sarcastic and irksome. He is exactly how Buffy remembered, right down to the left eyebrow scar and chiseled jaw.

"I don't understand. How are you here right now? I ..." A realization suddenly disrupts Buffy's train of thought, causing her to erupt with rage. "You're The First!"

In a swift motion, she instinctively throws a fist at Spike's face, knocking him to the ground before he can react to her accusation. She plants herself on top of him, one hand gripping his collar in place and the other prepping to punch him again.

"Buffy! I'm not the-"

He catches her wrist softly in his grip, slowly lifting it away from his face and down to his chest. Buffy freezes and watches this happen, growing more confused by the second.

"You still got it, slayer. Think you might even leave a bruise," Spike groans as he rubs his newly-punched face. "Also, if I was the bleeding First, what good is hitting me gonna do?"

The edges of Spike's lip form into an annoying smirk, causing Buffy to suddenly be veryaware that her legs are clasped around each side of his waist. She bolts up and staggers away into a pace.

"Wait, how is this possible? You're back? You're really back? But - how are you - did Willow do this?" Buffy sits with that possibility for a moment while Spike silently watches her spiral from the ground, still mustering up the courage to tell her everything.

"No … no, she wouldn't do that," Buffy continues. "Does it … does it have anything to do with The First?"

Spike rises from the rubble and dusts himself off.

"I promise I will tell you everything - from the moment I came back to being trapped in this hellhole to working with Captain Forehead-"

"I'm sorry, what? You've been working with Angel? Here?" Buffy gestures to the city that is going down in flames around them. "I … why wouldn't he call me?" she says to herself, triggering an eye-roll from Spike.

"I told your sweetie-bear to stay out of it. I wasn't ready to face everyone after-" He interrupts himself, abstaining from meeting her intense glare. "Slayer, can we talk about this when we're not surrounded by suffocating flames and a dying city? That's only funny once."

Spike extends a hand to her half-way hesitantly and she slowly takes it; it's real. It's the same hand she held many months ago in the Hellmouth, submerged in flames. Buried memories of their last days together surface in Buffy's mind: their last 3-hour conversation, their last night together, the last thing she said to him. I love you. And the last thing he said to her. No, you don't. But thanks for saying it. Now go. It all comes back with one simple, electrifying touch. Back in Sunnydale, their moment of hand-holding passion was short-lived due to Spike forcing Buffy to leave him behind. But there was simply no way she would miss her chance of taking him with her this time. Buffy tightens her grip on Spike's hand, her eyes burning into his. A look of disbelief creeps up on his face, like he was almost expecting her to reject his proposal. She interlocks their fingers as they run away from the carnage together.