AN: Some of the dialogue is taken from the episode, "Touched."

They drove until the sky darkened and the city lights began to appear. Los Angeles was as far as they could travel, with the amount of them injured, all of them in desperate need for food, showers, and sleep. No one said much of anything on the bus. Buffy held tight onto Spike's hand, fiddling with the scar left behind from the spark between their hands. She rested her head on his blanket-protected shoulder to keep out the sun, a soft smile gracing her lips, despite all the loss and madness of the day.

Sunnydale was now a crater. She and Spike had made it out of the school just in time, racing towards the bus, which was made all the more difficult thanks to the sunshiny day. They'd stopped only for a moment, on the outskirts of the former town to assess the damage. Giles had asked what happened and Buffy told him, pride and fear still coursing through her, that it'd been Spike. Spike who still had not spoken a word, expressed no hint of how he was feeling, emotionally or physically. Buffy could tell Giles was impressed, an appearance of guilt and remorse evident. He looked at her then, really looked her up and down, , shuddered, and then pulled her into his arms. It was a fatherly show of affection and she found she couldn't deny him that comfort. They were a long way from forgiveness, but the man had seen the errors of his way, thankfully no long-lasting harm done to Spike, and so they were on the path to healing, in more ways than one.

It was Faith who reminded them they needed to get back on the road, suggesting Los Angeles and to Angel's hotel. Even the girls were quiet, strengthened by their powers, overwhelmed by the battle, and belittled by their losses. It was the first time they ever truly suffered, understood, the repercussions of wielding such power and responsibility and Buffy did not envy them. To her, it was another win with a lot of loss, but in the same sense, it was so much more than that. Other battles would come, apocalypses no less, but she'd closed the Hellmouth and now, for the first time, could choose herself what came next.

So despite the numbness that would eventually concede to mourning, Buffy loaded onto the bus behind the others and thought positively of the future. A future that would, she was certain, contain the brooding vampire who sat pensively staring out the window through a crack in his blanket. It was a funny sight, and she almost laughed, but then again, he'd just saved the world, been willing to sacrifice his life for it, and she'd kind of stolen away his big finish. Not that she was sorry for it, nor would he be later, once he settled and realized the magnitude of what they'd done, but for now, she forgave him his indecision.

The core of them had made it out alive and Buffy felt the tiniest bit guilty for the relief of it. Willow and Tara, Anya and Xander, Dawn and Giles, hell even Faith, and her and Spike. They'd banded together when it counted and they'd survived, again. She wondered if their futures would continue to carry them along together or if now was the time they'd drift their separate ways. Instead of deciding where she'd settle, some place with a decent school system for Dawn, and not tarnished by dark memories for Spike, Buffy allowed herself to rest, cuddling up to the vampire in question. Thank God he didn't flinch.

At the hotel, Angel was waiting for them. Without question, he had his staff usher them inside, separating them into hotel rooms, sending them food, and providing medical care to all who needed it. Spike was moving slowly, paler than usual, which was saying something. In a hushed voice, she suggested he seek medical advice, but he'd scoffed, claiming blood and rest would do him the best healing. She'd acquiesced, mostly because she didn't want to fight with him and also, he'd just saved the world, so maybe he deserved to make his own choices.

Waiting until everyone else had been sorted, Buffy stood at the edge of the lobby, by the elevators, Spike leaning against the wall for support, and looked back at Angel. He nodded and she offered him a small smile before turning away from him and helping Spike into the elevator. If Spike had seen, he gave no hint of a reaction. In time, now that she had enough of it to prove it to him, jealousy and insecurity would fade. All that would be left between them would be the trust, love, and respect they had somehow crafted over the years. Of this, if nothing else, Buffy was certain. She took his hand again, looking up at him, but his sight was on their intertwined fingers.

Once the doors opened, she guided him out and down the long hallway to their room. It was quiet, a testament to the weariness of the day. The second the door closed, he was on her, scooping her up into his arms, his lips and hands everywhere. Their faces were wet from their combined tears and she had no idea how he managed to remove her clothes so quickly, but then they were both naked and she was lost, lost, lost in the feeling of him when she somehow made out an uncomfortable hiss escape his lips. He tried to ignore it and press on, his lips sweeping over her neck, but she pulled away to get a good look at him.

Burned and scarred flesh shone from where the amulet had rested on his chest, his heart the center from whence the sunlight had poured. She gasped, she couldn't help it, her fingertips gentle as they outlined the area. Grimacing, Spike tried to put on a brave face, but there would be none of these falsities anymore, not between them.

Her voice was a whisper, "Spike."

He looked at her then, and nodded. Leading him over to the bed and having him sit on the edge, she shuffled into the bathroom and came out with a wet and cool face cloth, applying it to the burning flesh. He hissed again, but she pressed on.

"I should really get a cream-"

But he took her wrist, laid a kiss on it, before drawing her into his lap and holding her close. Not exactly sure when the comfort shifted, she found herself straddling his waist, staring down at him, awe and adoration lining his face, and she knew, he finally understood. She'd chosen him, and yet, she'd never really had a choice. He was so important to her, even when she couldn't admit it, and now that she could, well, only beautiful things could come of it.

Joining felt like relief and she couldn't contain the emotions anymore. She rode him with abandon, slow and tender, then fast and forceful. She came first, guiding him to his finish, then lay down gingerly, sprawled across his body and hoping to never let go. He chuckled, the only sign that he was still conscious and for awhile, that was enough.

They must have drifted to sleep at some point because the knocking at the door woke her from a mindless dream. Spike sat up first, nudging her up and she stepped into the bathroom to collect a robe. A befuddled bellhop greeted them at the door, blood for Spike and food for her. He also, thankfully, offered her a first aid kit, which she rummaged through and found cream to relieve the burn on Spike's chest. He allowed her to apply it as he downed mug after mug of blood

After awhile, he took the cream from her hands and suggested she eat. The skin was still red, but it didn't seem to bother him, so she sat beside him and ate her dinner. When they finished, Spike took the dishes out of her hands and lay back down on the bed. She cuddled up next to him, sighing, her mind racing. He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

"Have a break."

"Too busy thinking of our future."

He laughed openly at that. "Where to next, Luv?"

Wiggling even closer, she issued an exaggerated, "Hmm. Was thinking a cozy crypt for two with a white picket fence?"

"Three."

"Huh?"

"Niblet, makes three."

"Don't tell Dawn I forgot her."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

It was her turn to scoff. "What about a change of scenery? Something a little colder, darker?"

"New York?"

"You have some history there."

"Time I made some new memories then."

"You're right, maybe we don't have to decide now."

She was starting to fall back to sleep when Spike shifted and sat up.

"Buffy?"

"Mm?"

Kneeling on the bed in front of her, he took both of her hands in his, kissing them.

"There's- Before we get on with our future, I want-"

He shook his head, looking away, trying to gather his thoughts. She brought a hand to his cheek and turned him back towards her.

She kept her voice gentle and encouraging, "Just say it, Spike."

"I've been alive a bit longer than you, and dead a lot longer than that. I've seen things you couldn't imagine and done things I'd prefer you didn't. I don't exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn't always rush in the direction of my head. So I've made a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred plus years, only one thing I've ever been sure of. You."

Her breath caught in her throat, tears heavy in her eyes. But he shushed her with a finger to her lips, so she waited.

"I'm not asking you for anything. When I tell you that I love you, it's not because I want you or cause I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your strength and your kindness. I've seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the one, Buffy."

They stayed staring at each other for a long moment, Spike looking nervously at her, Buffy overwhelmed by the love flowing through her. She giggled.

"You really are a bloody, sappy poet."

"Oi-" he started, hurt flushing his face, but she grabbed onto his shoulders and crushed herself against him, kissing him until he was as breathless as she was.

Pulling away only for a moment, she said, "I'm pretty damn happy to be the one," and then she claimed his lips once more.