Buffy sits inside her Rome apartment, watching the video of their last days of Sunnydale. Trying to remember why she had never told him that night. Why she had never told him when she could have.

She knew she had all the chances and all the opportunity to tell him that she loved him. She could have told him when she gave him the amulet. Or when he asked to make love to her the way that he always wanted to.

But she never did. She wanted to tell him. And she did, but he didn't believe her. Although, she never blamed that on him. He never had any reason to believe her. She never gave him any reasons.

But now he was gone, and all she had left of him was this video, his lighter, and a little reminder that lay within her, that had yet to make an appearance. She was happy about it though. She didn't care what anyone else thought. She didn't have the strength to care.

She knew that it was impossible, but she didn't care. She would have a reminder of him for eighteen years plus some. The video ended and she clicked the television off.

She sat for a while, contemplating what she would do now. She had her rituals for every day. Knowing that they probably weren't healthy for her, but it was what kept her going.

She would get up, take a shower, eat breakfast, get dressed for the day, then watch the video, and lastly, write in the baby journal.

Every once and a while, she would get out a notebook that she had specifically for him. If he ever did come back, then she would give him this and he would know what had happened while he was gone.

She reached for his journal and grabbed a pen from the side table. She had picked up the love of poetry from him, but she had never written one to him.

So she sat and knew now was the time to put all of her thoughts to use. She made sure her pen worked and began to write:

I think about lying

in the sweet green grass

with you.

I think about dancing

in the hard pouring rain

with you.

I think about dark warm nights

and bright hot days.

Fingers caressing.

Touches dancing.

Eyes wandering freely along with

hands and arms and mouths.

Staying up until al hours of the night

and sleeping with my body intertwined

with yours until late afternoon.

Everything I think about doing,

is always with you.

She ended the page as a few tears fell from her eyes. She missed him and she wanted him back. But she would never do what her friends had done to her. She was certain that he was in Heaven and he deserved to be there. Sooner or later she knew that she would be there with him. And he would be waiting for her with open and loving arms.

A soft knock on the door brought her out of her thoughts and back into the real world. She slowly closed the notebook, and placed it back under the table where it was before. She grabbed a bottle of water before answering the door, assuming that it was just Willow or Xander coming to check up on her since she hadn't spoken to either of them in days.

She was nearing the door when the all too familiar feeling ran down her spine, causing her to shiver in suspense. She opened the door to find the back of a man. From what she could tell, he had a leather jacket on, dark blue jeans, his head was shaved but not completely. You could still see some of the brown roots, "Hello? Can I help you, sir?"

She could practically hear the smirk and smile in the voice as it spoke, "Well, first off, you could give your man a hug and a welcome home kiss." The man turned around and she dropped her closed water bottle.

It was him. He was back. He wasn't dead. Oh god, how could this be happening? She felt light headed which he must have known because he reached for her waist to make sure she steadied herself before he let go again.

She looked at him with awe, not sure if he was really there or not, "Spike? What? How? Oh my god."

He chuckled, "Been called a lot of things in my time, pet. But never really been called God before. Thanks for the compliment. So, how about that hug and kiss for your man?"

Buffy launched herself into his arms and hugged him so tight that he probably would have snapped in two if he wasn't so glad to have her back in his arms. She pulled back and kissed him on the lips. Not in a demanding hard way, but in the soft loving way that they had kissed the night before Sunnydale ended.

When the kiss was finished, she pulled away and rested her forehead against his, still clinging to him for her dear life. She pulled back once she had gotten her voice back and smiled at him, "Welcome home, Spike."