A/N: Sorry for the long delay getting this chapter up, didn't mean to leave you hanging! Doing the romance very gradually to keep them in character, while exploring sorta-hurt/comfort on both sides as the genre label suggests (Buffy for the same reason as the show, and Spike...well, you have been reading the story so far, right? He's a total wreck!)

VII. Heaven Can Wait

Maybe it was the long absence altering his perception, but Spike thought he'd never seen the Slayer look so breathtakingly beautiful. She was so warm and radiant and glowing with life, as if she'd simply been away resting on a vacation that had done her good rather than having been dead. Entranced, he found himself getting lost in her eyes, drowning in her as he soaked in every glorious sensation of her presence, everything he'd longed to have back so badly and never thought he would. He could still hardly believe she was really here, standing before him, and he fully expected to find himself waking up at any moment to discover that this was all just another dream.

For a long silent moment, they both gazed at one another, those enthralling eyes of hers gradually showing a dawning recognition in them as she finally fully placed who he was.

...And then, without warning, she promptly socked him hard in the nose.

"Ow! Wot the bloody 'ell was tha' for?" Spike exclaimed, reeling back and covering his injured nose. " 'N why's it always the bloody nose with you?" Well, now he definitely knew he wasn't dreaming. This was the Buffy he remembered.

"That was for touching me," Buffy huffed. "I just remembered I hate you."

"Nice t' see you too, Slayer," Spike remarked dryly, gingerly wiping at his nose and wincing at the blood on his hand. He didn't exactly have a lot of that to spare right now either, briefly giving him the compulsion to lick it off, but he quickly decided against it due to the fact that the Slayer would find it incredibly disgusting. "How're you even alive? Last I checked, you were six feet under."

Buffy frowned at the question, clearly very confused herself and rather troubled by trying to sort it out. "I...don't know. I was dead. I remember dying, and I remember being...somewhere else." She looked very sad as she said that, hanging her head and turning her gaze down toward the ground. "Then suddenly I wake up in a coffin with everyone standing around me. At least I wasn't still buried I woke up." She shuddered in horror at the thought.

Spike tilted his head as he studied her thoughtfully, belatedly identifying the faint trace of something odd lingering in her scent as magical energy. "You smell a bit like magic...wonder if Red's behind this," he muttered, considering it. "She's been actin' shifty lately..." While he really wanted to be bitter at the witch for meddling with such dangerous magic if that was the case, he reluctantly had to admit that he was immensely grateful that Buffy was back. He wasn't sure how much longer he would have been able to go on without the Slayer in his life, even if it was only to give him hell rather than ever returning his love. He'd all but wasted away entirely pining after her, much as it ashamed him that he'd let himself get so consumed by it.

Buffy buried her face in her hands, momentarily seeming very small and lost. "I'm so confused. This is just too much. I just...I just want to go back where I was."

Spike wasn't quite sure what she meant, but it worried him nonetheless to see this normally strong and confident woman so unusually sad and resigned, and he couldn't help feeling sorry for her after what had happened to her. Having experienced dying and coming back firsthand, he knew it was far from a walk in the park, even in the best of circumstances, and hers were likely even further from ideal. "How 'bout we jus' get you home, pet?" he offered gently.

Glancing at the vampire uncertainly, Buffy considered for a moment, then decided, "Yeah...that sounds good."

She fell into step beside him as he began to lead the way back towards her house, remaining silent while she tried to process everything, incredibly overwhelmed with the struggle to sort all of the jumbled thoughts in her head. She wasn't even sure what she wanted right now, since she didn't want to be here at all, stuck in this loud and noisy and chaotic world when she'd been blissfully at peace. It was so jarring to be alive again when she still had such clear memories of where she'd been before they'd brought her back. She wanted desperately to go back there, where she wouldn't have to face this burdensome duty that had been handed to her. It had been such a welcome relief to no longer have to fight the good fight, and apparently her selfish so-called friends had simply snatched that away from her just to have her back with them again. It wasn't fair.

Spike glanced over at the Slayer walking alongside him, increasingly concerned at her silence and forlorn expression, noticing her eyes shimmering slightly with tears. He wanted to comfort her somehow, feeling greatly compelled to simply hold her and soothe her and tell her that everything would be alright, but he knew she would never accept that sort of contact from him. If he tried, she'd probably hit him somewhere a lot more painful than his nose, and he could help but wince at that mental image. "You alright, Slayer?" he asked instead, though he was fairly sure that she wasn't.

Buffy looked at him in slight surprise, having been so deep in thought that she'd almost forgotten he was there, and she didn't know just what to make of this apparent concern coming from an enemy. "I don't know," she told him quietly, very unsure herself. "Everything's really confusing right now."

The vampire simply nodded sympathetically in response, and she studied him for a moment, noticing that something seemed off about him. Her memories from before her death were returning, but they were still a little sketchy. She furrowed her brow in thought as she tried to place it, then spoke up, "Were you always so..." He quirked his scarred eyebrow at her as she paused, crinkling up her nose a bit and gesturing her hand vaguely at him while searching for an adequate descriptive word, then she finished instead with, "Pretty sure you used to look like you actually...y'know...ate."

Spike rolled his eyes at that. "Not 'alf that bad. S'pose I lost a bit a' weight, that's all. Was jus'..." He trailed off mid-sentence, stopping himself when it occurred to him that the Slayer would likely react very badly to hearing anything even remotely suggesting how depressed he'd been after her death, especially since she was convinced he wasn't capable of loving her without a soul and that he was creepily 'obsessed' with her. Coughing awkwardly, he hesitated, then ambiguously explained, "Er...a lot happened while you were gone."

Buffy gave him an incredulous look that clearly said 'a bit' was a massive understatement, then her expression changed and became solemn at the mention of her absence. "How...how long was I gone?" she asked, sounding a bit unnerved.

Spike hardly even had to think about the answer. He'd never stopped counting the number of times he'd dreamt about saving her. "Hundred 'n forty-seven days," he recited, sighing a bit at himself. Glancing at her face again, he saw confusion and unease at his answer that prompted him to ask her, "How long was it for you...where you were?"

Her focus seemed to turn inward again, and she was quiet for a long moment. "Longer," she finally whispered in reply as she hung her head again, the single word speaking volumes. He had the distinct feeling that this passage of time was why she hadn't recognised him at first, and he couldn't imagine how difficult it had to be for her right now, adjusting again to a life she'd left behind for so long. The more he thought about it, the more he felt torn, rejoicing at having her here again, yet greatly pained by how sad she seemed to be at having been brought back. Unable to think of anything he could possibly say to console her, he fell quiet again as they continued walking.

When they reached the house, Spike hung back just inside the doorway as Buffy walked inside, only to see her practically ambushed by the concerned Scoobies who all wanted to see and talk to her at once, the lot of them having apparently been waiting here for her. The Slayer froze in place at this, feeling cornered and uncomfortable with the attention.

"Buffy! There you are!" Willow addressed her, sounding relieved.

"Hey, you alright, Buff?" Xander asked worriedly at nearly the same time.

Buffy skittishly began to back away from the group, and Spike tensed and growled low in his throat at the way they were crowding her when she clearly didn't like it, moving to protectively stand between her and the others before they could fully surround her. It almost surprised him how much he really didn't like these people at the moment.

Willow looked at the vampire nervously as she now belatedly noticed him, a rather meek and guilty expression on her face. "Oh...h-hi, Spike. Guess you found her?"

"Wot the hell did ya think you were playin' at, Red?" Spike demanded. He indicated the Slayer with a motion of his head, then snarled, "Explain. 'N stop bloody crowdin' 'er! Can't ya see she's upset?"

Buffy gave him a very puzzled look, but said nothing, allowing him to shield her from the others. She was tired and confused and really didn't want to have to deal with any of this right now.

Xander brought his hands up in front of himself and took a step backward from the unexpectedly aggressive vampire. "Whoa, calm down, Fido. We just wanted to make sure she was okay."

"She ran off earlier," Anya added in explanation. "We thought she might be back here."

Willow's eyes narrowed in response to the accusatory look Spike was giving her, and without thinking she spat defensively, "How can you even be angry at me for bringing her back? You of all people! You should be grateful I did this!" He cringed at her words, silently pleading with her to leave it be, but she continued, "Don't think I haven't noticed how—"

"S-sweetie, let's...let's not talk about this right now," Tara interrupted her gently, stroking the other witch's shoulder to calm her down as she gave a very apologetic look to the vampire. He looked absolutely devastated at Willow having started to bring up how he'd reacted to Buffy's death, to say the least, giving her the distinct impression that he didn't want the Slayer to know about that.

Buffy glanced at Spike uncertainly and a bit suspiciously. "What's she talking about?"

"Nothing," Spike responded a bit too forcefully, avoiding her gaze. As much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, Willow was unfortunately right about him, even though resurrecting the Slayer had been infuriatingly reckless of her. His tone softened a bit as he continued to address the others, "Look...she's real shaken up. Don't think she wants to talk much right now, yeah?"

"Dawn," Buffy breathed, suddenly recalling her little sister who was unaware that she was alive again, the only one absent from the group. "I need to see her." Thankfully, the others had finally taken the hint and given the Slayer a bit of space so that she didn't have to push through them to move.

Spike watched her ascend the stairs, thinking of following since he felt like getting some sleep...then his heart sank as it suddenly occurred to him that Buffy would absolutely not want to share a house with him. He was going to have to move back to his crypt. "Right, then. Was jus' escourtin' the lady back," he muttered to no one in particular. "I'll be goin' now."

Not giving anyone a chance to respond if they'd even heard him, he quickly turned and left silently, wanting to make sure that Dawn didn't see or hear him go. If the teen knew he was moving out again, he knew she would try to talk him into staying anyway, and he was having a hard enough time with this as it was. As he stalked away from the house, Spike could hear Dawn's excited voice from upstairs at seeing her sister alive, and he couldn't help but smile a bit at that; at least the girl was happy, even if he was having to step back from her again.

Listening to their cheerful reunion as he made his way tiredly to his crypt, the smile slowly faded, and he sighed heavily. Despite the Slayer's return, he somehow felt even more alone than before. It didn't help that she was clearly suffering from events related to her resurrection, something that never would have had to be done if he'd kept that promise to protect Dawn. If he'd kept Dawn safe, Buffy would never have died in the first place...so the suffering that she was going through now was ultimately his fault. He didn't even know where her death had sent her, nor exactly how long she'd been there, but it had left her a distressingly sad and lost shadow of the woman he remembered. Whatever had happened to her, she was in pain from it.

Feeling overwhelmed and utterly defeated, he simply resigned to letting the tumultuous wave of emotion from the night's events wash over him, not even bothering this time to fight back the tears when they came. While he possibly might have have wanted the Slayer to suffer once, back when they were mortal enemies and he was actively trying to kill her, he didn't want to be responsible for what she was going through now. He was at a complete loss for how to help her deal with it either, if he could even help at all. He was beyond tired and in absolutely terrible shape, barely even hanging on anymore, and all of this was was becoming far too much to handle.

Upon arriving at the crypt, he sprawled out on the sarcophagus with a very weary sigh, completely drained both physically and emotionally. Mercifully, exhaustion claimed him nearly the instant he lied down, his troubled thoughts fading away as he immediately fell into a very deep and much-needed sleep.