"I don't care," she whispered again, and pressed her lips to his once softly.

"I don't care." She trailed her lips down his throat, her hands un-tucking his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. She almost sighed in relief as she eagerly pressed her body up against his bare chest, pressed her cheek against his skin. She felt her heart ache at the impermanence of this, that tomorrow this, him, both of them, could all be dust. She felt a sob clutching at her throat and she tried to push it down as best she could. This was not a time for crying. This was a time for reunion.

She stepped back to peel off her lacey blouse and camisole, and then peeled off her jeans and panties. He took a moment to drink her in, her small breasts, the skin stretched tight over her sternum and rib bones, painfully tight he thought. He thought how he would make her happy again so that she would eat and sleep and be healthy and strong like she had been when he first met her. So that she would be alive the way she had been when he had first met her. And her battle scars on her neck. She couldn't stand the look on his face, the look that mirrored how she felt, the look that mirrored how she was trying desperately not to feel.

"Spike I…" She found herself beginning but he cut her off with a solemn shake of his head.

"Don't say it, love. Not tonight. Just kiss me again."

She nodded obediently and fell back into his arms. He lifted her up and carried her over to the pull-out sofa and laid her out. She stretched out luxuriously in anticipation. Why had she been denying herself this? They could have had weeks, hell, months of this, if she hadn't minded a little insanity with her sex, and that hadn't really been much of a problem last year. But she hadn't. She'd held him at arm's length just like she'd held Riley. Just like she always… And now they just had… 'stop it, focus on the now', Buffy told herself.

He undressed the rest of the way and laid down beside her.

"Spike, tomorrow is the end of the world. The end of Sunnydale anyway most likely. And I want you to leave with what you came for."

He cocked his head at her in that adorable look of confusion of his. She stroked his face affectionately and smiled.

"I want you to get what you came here for. The blood of the Slayer."

His smile immediately froze and he backed away from her touch perceptibly.

"What are you saying love?" He hadn't expected this, and he didn't know what to do.

"I want to close this, Spike."

"I don't want to kill you anymore, Buffy. So there's no way I'd be leaving with what I came for," he said with a nervous laugh.

"You came for my blood. And I want you to leave with it."

"Buffy…" He couldn't believe what she was offering, and how quickly and strongly his throat and body burned in response.

She looked down for a moment, and when she looked back up and met his eyes, hers were filled with tears.

"I…I want you to. Angel…"

Spike groaned in frustration and turned away, rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling, "Why the bloody hell does he have to come into everything?"

"No, Spike, it's that…Angel, when he left. And he had a part of me in him. He owns me in a way no one…"

Spike scowled darker if that was possible and Buffy sighed in exasperation.

"Spike, look at me," she demanded.

He turned his head and met her gaze.

"If I die tomorrow, I want you to have marked me. If you die tomorrow, I want you to have marked me."

Spike stared at her thoughtfully. He never realized how much Angel's bite marks had meant to her. For a Slayer they would ordinarily be the ultimate mark of dishonor. But Buffy treasured them. And she wanted him to…him to possess her. Him to always have a part of her. This was too much, this was too close to something he couldn't accept, that he didn't deserve to accept, that he wasn't sure he was ready to face after all that had happened in the past year. But if this was the last night of the world…if this was the last chance…

Spike rolled over and positioned himself on top of her. She turned her head to the right, baring the left side of her neck.

He lovingly traced Angel's gray puckered smears.

"I wouldn't touch those love," he said softly, and turned her head the other way. At that, the tears glistening in her eyes fell as she closed her eyes.

He settled himself between her legs and angled himself into her. She moaned at the oh so welcome intrusion, so gloriously familiar. He began to move inexorably slowly, more of a pulsing than a thrusting and when she felt the tears on her cheeks drying in their tracks he began to kiss her neck. He licked and sucked until even she could practically feel the blood pulsing just beneath the surface. She heard the growl of his face changing and his teeth melted through her delicate skin like butter. Much to her embarrassment, she was the one who went wild at the sensation. This was so different than it had been with Angel, but then that would make sense wouldn't it? With Angel it was life or death, and it was the day before a painful goodbye. Oh wait, that applied here too didn't it?

She began moaning and thrashing wildly, clutching his head to her neck, begging him to pull back and bite her again, make it hurt, make it harder. When she got too impatient she flipped them over and gave him her wrist while she rode him frantically.

"I can't…" she cried in frustration, and much to her horror she found that she was sobbing again, and grinning like a madwoman at the same time, watching her blood pour down her hand into his mouth, his eyes the yellow of the demon and yet still the eyes of the man she lo…the man she wanted to love. This was just like it had always been between them except this was so much more, this was truly like Heaven. And she wasn't afraid anymore because no matter what she would be back there soon, and GOD GOD GOD the pain and-

She felt the orgasm seizing her and she fought it, not wanting this to be over, not wanting him to stop. He pulled away from her wrist to watch it take her. This was the best part, he thought, and grabbed her hips, reminding her to keep moving, never stop moving even as her body was losing control. He watched it start at her toes, cramping them painfully, her calves clenching into a Charlie horse, her thighs twitching, her stomach muscles flexing and contracting, and then her shoulders convulsed and it reached her voice in a silent scream. She was pure energy, pure Slayer, pure woman. This was his favorite Buffy of them all, the Buffy wrought silent and shuddering. She looked down at him and whispered,

"Take me."

He surged up and flipped them again so he was in control and he shoved himself into her so that the scream held taught in her body sounded and he clamped a hand over her mouth, which she bit into, and he came without warning, grabbing underneath her, pulling her up towards him, her whole body in union with his. This was the best moment, he thought as soon as rational thought returned, please, this moment, stay.

"Is that," Buffy tried to speak, swallowed and tried again, "Is that the way you always…the way you always…"

"Yes, love," he replied, still breathless, "That's the way I promised it could be. That's the way I always wanted it."