Summary: Sequel to Ahead of Her Time. Meeting Eden has changed the way Buffy sees Spike. But with Buffy rushing the relationship, Spike itching for his soul, Glory after Dawn, and Riley out for vengeance, how will they even make it to next week-much less to the future they've been promised?

Disclaimer: The story is mine, but the characters aren't. BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.

Author's Note: Some dialogue borrowed from Fool for Love.

Awaiting Eden

Chapter 1

Sunnydale, 2000

We're not dating, she told herself. I'm not even thinking about this right now. See, not thinking. She was hunting. She was a predator, all senses alert for vampire, for demon, for—oh, who was she kidding? She was wandering through the damned cemetery. Sure, she had a stake in her hand, but it was wanderage nonetheless. How many times had she passed this tombstone, anyway? And where were all the demons when she needed a good kill to take her mind off of things?

But it was just her, for now at least, since Spike had apparently decided to keep quiet for once in his unlife. She could feel him, though, somewhere behind her, moving as she moved, going where she went. Silent, though. Big change for him.

With no good demon distractions (of the killing variety), she sighed and plopped down on the tombstone she'd walked past at least five times. She squeezed her eyes shut, not long enough to let any baddies sneak up, just long enough for her mind to conjure up an image—the magical, innocent face of her daughter. It was harder to focus on the here-and-now when she thought of Eden. A big part of her just wanted to get there already, to that point in the future where she was finally content. Or better than content, if she believed Asher. Because he'd told her that in the future, she was blissfully happy.

There were questions, though. The bleach-blond vampire sending tinglies through her body, for instance. He was one big Spike-shaped question mark.

There was the soul thing, for one. He didn't have a soul (not yet, at least), but it felt like he could love her anyway, maybe. When it was just the two of them, alone in his crypt. When he was (gulp) inside of her on that crazy, confusing night. When she'd broken down sobbing after Eden had disappeared, he'd held her and whispered that everything would be okay.

But how could that be? How could a demon without a soul love? Giles had always taught her that it wasn't like that, that vamps couldn't.

Angelus couldn't.

Questions. She needed to talk to Giles about all of it, about what it all meant. The whole Scooby gang had been carefully avoiding mention of the great "future-watcher-time-travels-to-save-Buffy-and-Spike's-prophecy-child" event of 2000, not that she couldn't understand why. She was still muddling through her Spike-feelings herself. She couldn't begin to guess how the rest of the group was coping.

"Ooh, vamp!" she said, cheerfully, as she caught sight of the dirty vamp with the ripped t-shirt and the bad eighties hair. Really, this guy made Spike look like a style icon. Not that she was thinking of Spike. Nope. But if she were, a good kill would definitely take her mind off of him.

She sprinted over to the vamp and landed a vicious punch that caught him by surprise. He recovered quickly, though, and started fighting back. She'd known he wasn't a newbie just by his awful fashion sense; still, he was no match for her.

"You know, it's probably none of my business, but I just gotta ask," she said, brightly, her mood improving with each kick she landed, "Did you smell this bad when you were alive?"

She was on a roll, her body humming with the thrill of the fight, her mind finally on something other than a certain annoyingly attractive blond vampire.

"If it's a post-mortem thing, then hey—so not your fault, and boy is my face red. But just so you know…" He made a move to hit her, but she blocked him easily and landed her own punch, one that sent him sailing over a tombstone. "The fast-growing field of personal grooming's come a long way since you became a vampire."

Her stake was clutched in her fist and she thrust it at his heart. Perfect fight, perfect kill. But he spun at the last second, twisted her arm, grabbed her stake in his own fist, and with a bloodthirsty grin, plunged Buffy's stake into her stomach.

Her eyes widened in shock as realization hit, her hand moving to where the stake protruded from under her ribs. There was a stake in her body. She'd been staked—staked! In all her years of being the Chosen One, never had her own stake been used against her. She'd be pissed if she wasn't so afraid. And in so much pain. She gripped the stake in her right hand and tugged hard, slowly pulling the wood from her body and trying to ignore the squelching sound it made. And the pain. She tried to fight the black fuzzies dancing in front of her eyes, stumbling away at what she hoped was a fast pace. She was relieved when she looked behind her and saw no sign of the vamp, until she turned to face forward and saw that he was right in front of her.

Shit.

"You going?" he asked, a violent grin creeping onto his face. "But you were having so much fun a minute ago."

She was backed up against a tombstone; she'd let herself be cornered. Nowhere to go. The stupid eighties-rocker-wannabe vamp grabbed her by the shoulders. This is it, she thought. Something must have been changed, after all, by Asher coming back for Eden and now she was going to die before she had a chance to ever get to her happy place. She was in the best shape of her life. She'd never had so much to live for, and it was all going to end, like this, not even in some huge apocalyptic battle, but at the hands of this mediocre vamp who'd just happened to get lucky.

And then, as she watched, wide-eyed, expecting to feel the fangs slice into her neck at any moment, she saw two strong, pale hands appear on either side of the vampire's head. "Hands. Off. My. WIFE!" Spike growled from behind the vamp, and then an animalistic roar filled the night air as Spike snapped the demon's head clean off of its shoulders. Buffy stared at Spike in utter shock, oblivious to the vamp-dust settling on her clothes. The strong hands that had just saved Buffy's life caught her before she collapsed against the crypt.

"You can't…call me that," she whispered, before she blacked out in his arms.