Chapter Six – Par For the Course

She leaned over the table and reached out, roughly grasping his chin to pull his head back upright. Her eyes were wide as they raked over his face and peered into his eyes. "Who are you?" She sat back, laying the hand clutching the stake on the table next to her plate. "How do you know Dawn? That nickname? Did you know Spike? You'd better start talking, Mister Man, and whatever you say better be the fucking truth. I'm not even close to kidding. In fact, I'm so far away from kidding that kidding isn't even on this planet. So spill. Now."

Spike held up his hands. "Calm down, Slayer, I'll tell you everythin' I know, but you have to promise not to punch me in the nose for my trouble, yeah?" He looked around the diner at the other patrons who kept shooting interested glances at their table. "Maybe we should take this somewhere slightly less public." Buffy lifted her stake hand and Spike smirked. "You can chain me in the bloody bathtub if it'll make you feel safer, luv."

She peered at his face again, studying him intently for a few tense seconds, then she snagged a paper placemat from the tabletop and folded it quickly, stuffing it into her back pocket as she tucked the stake back into her boot. She pulled a wallet out of the other pocket and tossed a few bills on the table then stood up. "Move. And don't try anything even remotely funny." Spike nodded and stood slowly from the booth then started for the door, feeling the weight of the Slayer's gaze on his back.

A blonde waitress walked toward them with a smile on her face and snagged Buffy's arm as she walked past, leaning close to whisper, "Who's he?"

Spike stopped, keeping his hands in plain sight as Buffy looked at the waitress. "Oh… uh… he's a friend… from out of town." She lightly pushed against Spike's back to get him moving again and said over her shoulder, "He's only here for a few days and we've got a lot of catching up to do, so I'll have to talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure, Annie. See you next week?"

Buffy answered distractedly, "Oh… yeah, sure. Bye, Julie."

They stepped out onto the sidewalk and Spike looked up and down the street. "Where to, Slayer?"

She took his arm and started guiding him down the street toward the crappy music bar. Thankfully, the band was apparently taking a break… or they'd possibly been strangled with their guitar strings in defense of good music. Either way, the street was blissfully silent. "My motel is down past the bar." They walked along in the silence of the early evening as Buffy went back over their conversation in her mind. The things he'd said, coupled with the now very familiar tinglies, brought her to only one inescapable, yet unbelievably impossible, conclusion. She shook her head and muttered under her breath as her hand tightened on his arm almost painfully. "He's dead. Completely dead. Dust dead. There's no way. He's a vampire, not a freaking Time Lord or Big Face Guy, so there's no possible way it's him. It can't be." Not that Time Lords or Big Face Guys really existed or anything… well… when you got right down to it, vampires weren't supposed to exist, either, but here she was, walking down the street with one, so… She reached up and rubbed her forehead. Her head was starting to hurt.

Spike kept glancing at her as they walked, smiling faintly at her muttered rambling as they made their way down the street. She veered into the parking lot of a small motel and started toward a door at the end that was behind an old DeSoto, and Spike quietly cleared his throat. "Uh… my bike's over there." He nodded across the street. "Mind if I fetch my things? Blood and whatnot? Should get it in the fridge 'fore it goes over."

Buffy looked at the Harley and nodded. "Yeah, but you'd better not be thinking of running. You are going to explain to me what the hell is going on. Am I clear?"

Spike reached into his pocket and pulled out the bike's keys. Buffy let go of his arm and held up her hand and Spike dropped the keys into her palm then started across the street. "'S why I'm here, luv. Not gonna pull a runner, you have my word." She watched him lift the saddle bags off the bike then turned back toward the door to her room as he stepped into the parking lot. Spike caught up with her as she slid the key into the lock, and he nodded at the DeSoto. "That your car, pet?"

She looked back over her shoulder as she pushed the door open. "Yeah." She stepped into the room and waited for Spike to follow her in then she shut the door and turned the deadbolt. He dropped the saddle bags on the floor in front of the ratty chair and leaned against the wall beside the door. Buffy emptied her pockets, depositing everything on the small table next to the bed then turned to face him. "Ok. Out with it. Who are you? And if you say Time Lord, I will stake you."

Spike quirked an eyebrow and smiled at her, but when she didn't smile back, he sighed and slipped out of his jacket, tossing it into the chair. "Think you've already sussed that out, pet, but this'll make it perfectly clear." He muttered a few words in a demon language, and the air around him shimmered for a few seconds as the glamour dissipated.

Buffy stared at him then gasped and dropped onto the bed, her eyes wide and chest heaving as she sputtered, "Spike? No! You're dead! Like all the way dead! You can't be you! You burned up in the Hellmouth! I saw you!" She waved her hand angrily at him. "What the hell was that? You looked like a scary biker guy and now… How do I know this is real?"

"Scary biker guy was a glamour, Buffy. This is me, I swear."

She clenched the sheet she was sitting on tight in her fists and shouted, "But you died! I saw you burn!"

He nodded. "Yeah, I did, and I was sucked into the amulet and spat out into the poofter's office a bit later as a ghost. The Powers weren't done with me yet, apparently."

"A ghost? With Angel?"

"Yeah. Haunted Peaches and the crew at Evil Incorporated for a few weeks then came over all solid one day, and…" His head rocked back and slammed into the wall from the force of the punch.

"You bastard! You've been alive all this time and you never told me!? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Bloody hell! Why is it always the nose?!" Spike cradled his newly broken nose and snuffled up the blood that was leaking out of it. "I asked you not to punch me! Remember that?"

She stood in front of him with her fists clenched at her sides as she threw daggers at him with her eyes. "You're lucky I didn't shove a stake up your ass! Sideways! I grieved for you! I'm still grieving for you! I think about you every day and you could've been with me this whole time!? What the hell is wrong with you!?" Buffy stomped over to the night table and snatched up the paper placemat then unfolded it and held it up in front of Spike's face as she shrieked, "Do you see that? Do you?!"

Spike dropped his hand and tried to focus on the paper, but it was shaking too much for him to make out what he was supposed to be looking at. No worries, though, Buffy filled him in. "It's your eyebrow. The one with the scar from your first Slayer. I draw it sometimes and you want to know what happens every time I do?" Spike hazarded a nod, but she may as well have been in the room by herself for all the attention she paid him. "I have nightmares. About you dying! I see you burning! Every time! I wake up screaming…" She looked up at him with tear filled eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you find me?"

Spike closed his eyes and whispered, "Couldn't at first. Ghostie me couldn't leave LA…"

Buffy broke in, "And in all your years on this planet you've never heard of that nifty little invention called the fucking telephone?!" She crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it at him.

Spike flinched slightly as it bounced off his chest then continued, "And by the time I'd gotten my body back, I'd found out you'd moved on. Forgotten about me. Didn't seem to be much point in pickin' up the phone then. Didn't want to barge into your life and muck things up for you."

Buffy sputtered, "Forgotten about you? How could I for… Oh God, you really didn't believe me, did you? I thought that whole 'No you don't, but thanks for saying it' thing was just more Spike being the Big Bad, but you really didn't believe me." Buffy backed away and started pacing around the room. "Well, of course not, why would you? I spent years beating you down and degrading you and denying that I could ever feel anything for you. Basically, I treated you like shit for pretty much the whole time I knew you and then waited until you were about to die to tell you how I really felt. You're one of the most adaptable vampires I've ever met, but even you can't shift gears that fast."

She chuckled bitterly. "And even if you could, why would you want to be with someone who treats you like that?" She sighed and her shoulders slumped. "I'm a completely horrible bitch and I guess I can't blame you for staying away from me when the first thing I do after finding out you're still alive is punch you in the nose."

Spike was opening his mouth to say something, he wasn't entirely sure what, when she suddenly spun to face him then took determined steps until she was standing directly in front of him wearing the patented Slayer resolve face. "Spike, I love you."

Spike's dead heart felt like it was trying its damndest to beat as warmth suffused his entire body. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, leaving him standing there gaping like a fish out of water. Okay, he'd expected the punch and the shouting, those were par for the Slayer course, but… she loved him? Really? He shook his head, trying to clear it, then resumed staring at her. She hadn't moved and was still wearing the resolve face, almost daring him to contradict her like he had the last time she'd said those words. He'd tried everything he could think of to get her to admit her feelings, up to and including chaining her up in his crypt and threatening to feed her to Dru, but the infuriatingly stubborn bint had absolutely refused to do so until he was just about to burn. He'd actually been on fire at the time, and he'd convinced himself that she'd only said it because he was sacrificing himself for her and that she hadn't really meant it, but now… she'd just blurted it out without any prompting, cajoling, or pleading from him. And there was no fire… none at all. He surreptitiously moved his hand and pinched himself hard on his thigh, checking to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep somewhere and this was all a dream. Nope. Pain – sharp and acute – so… not dreaming.

Spike looked down in shock as she reached for the hand he'd just pinched himself with and twined their fingers together. She lifted her other hand and gently placed a finger over his still open mouth. "I love you and I need you to believe me this time. If you tell me that I don't, I swear… it'll break me, Spike."

She removed her finger and Spike looked into her eyes, seeing the truth of her words swimming in the depths. He nodded and whispered, "I believe you, pet."

She smiled and his heart swelled in his chest. "Good." She turned suddenly and pulled him toward the bed by their still joined hands. Once he was sitting, she moved toward the door and picked up his saddle bags, depositing the blood packs in the small fridge in the corner. "Do you need to eat?"

It took a few seconds for his brain to process the sudden change of subject then he shook his head. "No, pet. 'M full up right now."

"Good." She moved back over to the bed and stood in front of him, her knees just brushing his. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair then bent down and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It shocked him just as much it had the very first time she'd done that and he almost didn't hear her say, "I need to ask you something, Spike."

Her words filtered into his brain, and he shook himself out of his shocked stupor then whispered, "Yes, Buffy." She took a deep breath and started to open her mouth, only to be stopped from speaking by his finger on her lips. "The answer is yes, pet. I still love you. I never stopped."