A few minutes later, the blond pair stands in front of the door to Buffy’s apartment. She can hear the voices inside and turns to Spike. “Sounds like Willow already ‘ported in with Xander and Giles.”

“’ported?”

“Teleported. I know, very Star Trek, right? It’s something she can do now. Saves on airfare. Though it does make you want to toss your cookies sometimes.” Her hand goes for the doorknob, but Spike reaches out, stilling her hand. Buffy glances back, struck by again how blue his eyes are and how deeply they penetrate her.

“Maybe you should warn them I’m here? I don’t want to get staked in the excitement. Died once this year already.”

Buffy starts to protest but then thinks of Xander and Giles and their hyper-overprotective ways. She nods. “You’re probably right. Wait right here.” A genuine smile on her face, Buffy pushes him to the side and opens the door.

“SURPRISE!” The voices slam into her, causing Buffy to jump.

She has to laugh. “Um, thanks, but I did know you were coming, guys.” She grins as Andrew bounces up and down, clapping. Smiles all around from her friends make Buffy feel warm and welcome. “But wait, i I</i have a surprise for all of you!”

“Is it gelato!” Andrew bounces more in excitement over the frozen Italian treat.

“No, it’s...”

“Cannoli?”

“No, I...”

“TIRAMISU?” Andrew’s voice pitches high enough to make everyone flinch.

“Andrew, shut UP. It’s not a dessert. It’s...well...look.” Buffy reaches outside into the hallway and yanks a sheepish Spike into the doorway. She smiles, face radiant.

He waves a little, unsure what to do. After a few beats of stunned silence, chaos breaks out. Andrew rushes forward, tackling Spike in a bear hug, crying and rambling about his ‘favoritest ever undead formerly evil vampire friend’ until Spike struggles to peel him off and address some of the dozen questions flying at him from Xander, Dawn, Giles and Willow. Buffy stands back a little, unable to wipe the smile off her face. Seeing everyone together again makes her heart hurt. But in a good way. Even Giles looks pleased to see Spike in one piece again.

Spike steps out of the group, hands up in surrender. “Whoa! You lot need to settle down. I’ll answer the questions...if I can...but one at a time, right?”

For the next half hour, Spike tells what he knows from the beginning. Burning up from the inside as the Hellmouth crumbled around him. In the next second, at least from his view, coming to ‘life’ again in Angel’s offices in L.A. He calms Buffy down, who gets up and stomps around at this point in the story, cursing at Angel for keeping him a secret. Explains about not being solid, feeling like he was slipping into Hell. And finally, by magical means, being made corporeal again. And through it all, his eyes continue to return to Buffy, speaking as if she is the only one in the room. Buffy’s heart beats faster, harder every time their eyes meet.

“And then, I borrowed one of Angel’s jets and headed this way.”

Buffy raises an eyebrow. “Borrowed?”

“Right. Um, nicked it, actually. Told the pilot it was official Wolfram & Hart business and all. What? He’s got more than one!” Buffy can’t help but laugh at the idea of Angel realizing what Spike has done.

The room falls quiet as everyone wonders what to ask next. Finally, Xander breaks the silence. “Well, it’s been over a year since anyone came back from the dead. I say this calls for a beer! ”

“Sounds good, mate.” Spike laughs in relief as a cold one is passed his way and everyone disperses to eat and drink.

Buffy pulls him to the side. “See, nothing to worry about. Even Xander is happy to see you. Of course, he’s been stuck training new Slayers for months, so any male friend would be a relief...” Again, unable to contain her joy, Buffy laughs.

“God, it’s good to hear you laugh, pet. It’s been a long time.” The moment tightens around them, the din of the gathering fading as they look at each other. Buffy’s smile turns to a look of serious intent.

“I still have so many questions, Spike. So much to tell you.”

“I know. Me too, pet.”

Buffy looks around at her group of friends, realizing she can’t just abandon them to talk to Spike. Or can she?

“Time for cake!” Dawn calls out as she comes out of the kitchen with a cake blazing with candles.

Buffy looks at Spike, telling him with her eyes to be patient. He nods and points her to the cake. She heads to the dining room table, as everyone begins to sing, off-key but with great enthusiasm. As the song ends, Buffy leans forward to blow out the candles.

“Make a wish, Buffy!” Andrew, still extremely excited, reminds her as he hops from foot to foot. Spike feels her eyes on him immediately, telling him in no uncertain terms she doesn’t need another wish with him standing there. He feels a tremor of relief, the weight of not being sure what she wants slowly lifting from his shoulders. The look in her eyes is unwavering as she blows out the candles in one long breath. She starts to come around the table towards him, ignoring the rest of the group, until Willow grabs her arm.

“Prezzies!” Buffy’s brow furrows as she is yanked towards the couch and the pile of brightly wrapped gifts on the coffee table. She is torn between glee at ripping into the presents and the thought of ripping off other more exciting wrappings. Spike lounges against the doorway, watching her go through the motions, oohing and aahing over each gift in turn. He feels the tension, the worry melt off his body as he sees Buffy be happy and relaxed. She is okay. Somehow, he had to know that first. That incinerating himself had saved not just the human race, but that it saved Buffy. He had to know she lived and survived and was going on with her life. Now, to figure out if he has a place in it.

Just when it seemed the party would never end, it starts to wind down. Willow is hugging Buffy, wishing her the best, apologizing for not staying longer. “Council business. I’m sorry. We’ll be back soon for a longer visit, okay, Buffy?” Buffy nods, hugging Xander and Giles. To Spike’s surprise, he gets a handshake from both the men and a quiet “Welcome back, Spike” from the Watcher. And a quick squeeze from Red, her eyes warm on him. He can feel the calm power in the witch, unlike ever before. To show him he is right, the three of them blink out of sight in a swirl of golden energy.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding, pet. Red’s got some serious mojo now.”

Buffy looks at the spot in the living room where the air continues to spark lightly before fading and agrees. “Yeah, she’s amazing. So much lighter than before. Meaning less dark?”

Spike nods. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Their eyes meet again for the thousandth time and Dawn reacts to the intimate look.

“Wow, Andrew, look at the time!”

“What? It’s early, I was thinking we could all play Parchee -“

“Yes, yes. In my room, come on. We can play there.”

“No, my room! I’ve got the mini-fridge all stocked with YooHoo and - Hey, shouldn’t we invite Spi -“

“Just come on!” Dawn grabs Andrew by the arm and drags him away from the living room.

“But - and ow!” Andrew stumbles after Dawn and a minute later, a door slams down the hall.

Eyebrows raised, Spike peers down the hall. “The boy lives here, too?”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “Sort of. He kind of follows us around. Like a puppy. An overexcited, rambling puppy who eats way too much sugar.” She sighs, glancing over her shoulder to the hall he disappeared down with her sister. “He wants to help. He does help, sometimes. Sometimes not so much. He stays here a lot, and sometimes in England with Giles. It’s like, shared custody or something.” She half-smiles at him.

“And me, love?”

“You?”

“Where can I stay?” He does not look at her.

Buffy blushes, realizing she is finally alone with Spike and all of a sudden, nervous as a schoolgirl. “He - Here? You can stay here. If you want to?”

“I do.” Spike looks around, taking off his duster as he does and tossing it on the nearest chair. “Couch looks pretty comfy. Place is really quite posh, pet.”

“Uh, thanks. Dawn and Andrew did most of it.” Awkward silence builds between them until Buffy breaks it. “I need to talk to you.” She looks towards the rooms into which Dawn and Andrew disappeared. “Not here. My room?”

Spike reminds himself not to expect anything. No matter how alluring her scent is, no matter how many times she makes eye contact. They are just getting to know each other again. Slow, very slow. He nods and follows her into her room. Buffy turns on the light on her dresser and closes the door behind him. Nervous, she perches on the end of her bed. Spike paces slightly, taking in her room. It’s different, unfamiliar. Since her old room fell into the Hellmouth, it makes sense this room would feel new, full of new things. Except... his scanning eyes fall hard on a worn red book on her bedside table. His eyes jerk to hers in surprise.

“Is that...?”

Looking where he is looking, Buffy smiles a tender little smile back at him. “Yes.”

He strides over to it, reaching out to trace the familiar leather cover. He turns to Buffy, confused. “But how?”

Buffy takes a deep breath before answering. “I just didn’t know how the fight was going to end. Going into the Hellmouth - so unpredictable, kind of a big thing. I gathered some things from the house and mailed them to Angel for safekeeping. Just in case. He sent them to Italy when I got settled. It’s all I have from Sunnydale.” The whole time she is talking, he stares down at the book, fingers still touching it. Spike’s hand moves over as he notices the large clear crystal also on the bedside table. He touches it, and looks at her in question. She nods. A battered enveloped juts out of the book of letters and he gently tugs it out. His eyes widen as he recognizes the Brazil postmark.

“You kept this all these years? I didn’t even know if you ever got it.” Spike slides the letter out and reads it over, chuckling to himself. “Most poetic death threat I ever sent.”

Buffy laughs along with him. “Did you send a lot of them? And, come on. It’s not every day your mortal enemy mails you a birthday card which also wishes you an early death, right?” Spike drops it to the table and looks back at Buffy. The look makes her go quickly still.

“So, these are some of the things you wanted to keep?” Spike’s voice has a tremor in it he tries in vain to hide. He knew seeing Buffy would be emotional, but he never counted on this. He never counted on hope.

Buffy feels her throat tighten and her next words are very soft. “I had a dream - a nightmare. Before. In it, I lost you, I lost everything. I had to at least hold onto what I could.” She reaches in her pocket and slides out the worn silver coin. “This I just never let go. It’s been with me since the day you gave it to me.” Spike moves closer, puts his hand out and traces the familiar coin, his good luck charm for over a hundred years. His fingers move off the coin and onto Buffy’s soft warm skin, moving in widening circles around her palm.

The heat in the room increases dramatically and Buffy feels her heart rate increase. Spike speaks without lifting his head, without stopping the rhythm of his fingers. “I missed you, Buffy.”

Buffy’s fingers curl up, covering his, halting the motion. Reaching up with the other hand, she cups his face gently, pulling him down. He doesn’t resist as she holds her breath until their lips meet. In that moment, it rushes over her in a flood. The mourning, the grief of leaving him behind, the love he so clearly still holds for her. And she pours all of it right back into the kiss, crying out a little into his mouth as their lips press harder. Spike’s other hand laces into her hair, holding her to him. With a gasp, the kiss breaks and they just cling there, not moving.

“Thought you wanted to talk, pet.” The tone of voice, the promise of wicked pleasure, gives Buffy the same goosebumps it always did.

“We can talk later.” Buffy hesitates. “Can’t we? You’re not leaving?”

“Wild horses couldn’t make me.” His hand slides out of her hair and along her neck, his fingers tickling her skin as they coast down her bare arm.

“And this...is okay?” Spike almost laughs, she sounds so nervous. She still doesn’t know that he will always want her. He doesn’t know how to stop.

“More than okay. Bloody fantastic.” His last words are nearly lost as he leans down to nuzzle into her neck. Buffy’s head rocks back slowly, tension dripping off her like water. She lets her body arch into his, gaining contact with the solid, firm planes of his chest through his black t-shirt.

Swallowing a moan, Buffy struggles to remain coherent as his hands skate down her back, fingers tracing her spine. Her own hands curl into the front of his t-shirt, grasping it tightly, pulling it loose from his jeans. There is a certain frenzy to her actions, a desperation. When the shirt is loose, she slides her hands ever so slowly under to the skin below. As her hands re-discover the sculpted muscles of his abdomen and chest, Spike feels her body shudder a few times. Standing up straight to look at her, he sees evidence of near tears in her eyes.

“Buffy?”

She shakes her head, unable to bring the words forth just yet. She pulls her hands from his carved body to come up and catch the edge of one cheekbone, trace his jawline, drag down the front of his wrinkled shirt.

“Buffy? Pet, are you...should we...?” Spike is concerned by how quiet she has gone.

She tries to smile through wet eyes. “You’re real. Spike, you...were almost on fire last time I saw you. Fire. Fire plus vampire equals no more vampire. A big beam of light was shooting through you. I knew that was it.” She takes a deep breath, keeps talking as her fingers idly play with the hem of his shirt, a loose thread drawing her attention. “And I left you. Because you were the hero that day, not me. Saving everyone’s butt, including mine. And I told you... I said...”

“You said you loved me.” Spike tenses, the cords in his necks pronounced. He fights the urge to let her off the hook, decides he needs to hear it, one way or the other.

“And you told me I didn’t.”

“Right.”

She jabs him in the chest with her index finger, hard. Buffy looks up and Spike sees the tears are gone, and the hazel of her eyes is filled with flashes of anger. “Where do you get off telling me what I feel?”

Startled, Spike tries to explain. “I...I knew you were just being nice, Buffy. Last wish to the dying man kind of thing?”

“Sit down.” Buffy points at the end of the bed. One look at her face and the edge in her voice tells Spike to do it and not argue. He sits down as Buffy paces in front of him. She brushes her hair back from her face, gathering herself. “I need to explain something to you. Looks like we are going to talk, after all.” She smiles quickly at him, face still flushed. “Only more me than you right now.”

Spike nods, thinking not interrupting is a very good idea.

“I’ve...never been very open with my emotions. You’ve known me for enough years to know that. Even when I can figure out i what</i those feelings are, I’m not exactly big on the sharing.” She glances at Spike, but he just continues to listen. Buffy looks away before she is drawn to him and forgets to explain the rest. For the last five months, she has wanted to smack him for what he said to her and now is her chance to explain why.

“I’ll try not to get into some big psychoanalyze Buffy session, but I think when my parents were breaking up, I learned to shut down my emotions. Detach myself so it didn’t hurt so much. When I became the Slayer, I kept doing it. Internalized everything so it couldn’t hurt me, couldn’t be used against me.” Buffy pauses, takes a deep breath. “Fast forward to the time right after Mom died.” Spike sees her face draw in at the mention of her mother and realizes how the loss grieves her. How it probably always will. “I had a conversation with Giles about how...hard I was getting. I was worried that being the Slayer was making me so cold, so unable to give of myself to others. Unable to show love. I was...scared my Mom didn’t even know how much...” Spike starts to get up, seeing her face begin to crumple, but she waves him back down. “Let me finish. I thought maybe she didn’t know I loved her so so much. Because I didn’t tell her.”

“She knew, love. She knew.”

“I think I believe that now. At the same time, I resolved to break out of that shell. Try harder to show those around me how I felt. Mixed results, really. But I was trying. Still, a really limited audience for the Buffy love.” Buffy paces more and more intently, eyes focused on the floor. “When I died, I was...ready, in a way. I was so tired. Too much loss, too much pain.” She pauses, looks up at Spike. “And then I came back. I wasn’t hard then...I was hollow. I let your love fill all the empty places but I couldn’t give any back. I was so...empty.” She lets her last word fall and the room goes quiet for a few tense seconds.

“Slowly I came back into myself. Remembered I didn’t want to be hard. I wanted to love, be loved. Once you had your soul, I had to understand you all over again. Understand how you could love me enough to do that. To change your very core, your essence. I...god, Spike, I...damn it. See, it’s hard for me to even explain. I’ve gone on this extended ramble and maybe you still have no idea what I’m getting at.” Buffy rubs her eyes, struggling. She hears the bed creak and in the next second, feels his hands rub the outside of her arms. Taking a deep breath, she looks up at him standing in front of her.

“It took me all last year to realize it, to understand it, to really let myself feel it, Spike. So, let me get to the point of this long-winded explanation. Listen closely. You’re listening?” He nods. “Good.”

Her eyes are unwavering, locked into his. “The next time I tell you I love you, you better damn well believe me!” She narrows her eyes at a surprised Spike. “Got it?”

He gapes for a minute like a fish before stammering out an answer. “Got it.”

“We’re clear?”

“Crystal.”

She reaches up and grabs his chin in her hand, holding him firmly, forcing eye contact. Her voice drops, grows softer.

“Spike, I love you.”

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! One more part on this last chapter. Thanks for the lovely feedback so far! And if you are following any of my other fics, they WILL be updated pretty soon, so hang in there:) Tiana