Chapter 29 - Epilogue, Saturday, Alternate Spike and Buffy
Spike woke first. In the early hours of the morning, he sat up on the bed. Checking his legs, he judged that they were healed enough to remove the splints. If there was one thing about immortality, it was the fact that you soon knew how to judge the state of injuries. When that was complete, he got back into bed, spooning up behind Buffy the way he liked to sleep.
It was late when they finally woke. Both still needed healing, and sleep was the best way to achieve that. Initially, Buffy stretched, pushing herself closer to Spike as she did so. She felt his response to her, the same as it always was when they woke. Stop. The same as it always was. Stop. Realising he shouldn't be able to mould to her as he was doing, she turned around. That had two effects. One was that she could see his face. The other was that she could see the clock. His expression almost drove the other effect out of her mind. Almost, but not quite. She jumped out of bed. "We overslept!" she said, rushing to the door. "Dawn should be at school by now."
Somehow, Spike had jumped out of bed and made it to the door before her - probably because she had taken time to grab a wrap while he hadn't. Standing there, looking into her eyes with a provocative smile on his lips, he said, "It's Saturday, love, and she's due back at lunchtime."
Realising he was right, she had no objections when he pushed her back towards her bed, making sure she lost the wrap somewhere along the way. As she collapsed onto the bed, Spike landing on top of her, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. Spike had winced as he landed, rolling onto his back, bruises and cracked ribs protesting at the sudden abuse. That gave Buffy time to grab what she had seen. She picked up her diary.
"What? I thought your other self didn't keep a diary," he said, still shuffling, trying to get comfortable.
"She didn't," Buffy said, flicking through the pages until she reached the most recent entries.
"We're back," she exclaimed, sitting up again. "Look!" she offered a glimpse at the book.
"The Initiative and the vigilantes have been stopped, or soon will be. It's over, Spike, it's over." She turned over another page. "And she's left me phone numbers of some people she says we should contact. Willow, and someone called Oz and another called Jenny - and she's left you contact details for a herd of Jelka demons she says you've grown attached to! What are Jelka demons?"
"Big, ugly brutes," Spike tried to remember. "Sort of blue in colour, but gentle as they come. I can't imagine why I'd be involved with them. But," his expression changed from confusion to his most provocative smile. "If we're back," he moved closer to her. "Then we've got the house to ourselves." He pulled her down so she was lying by his side, facing him. "And that means we can make as much noise as we like." He kissed her. Then he moved to lapping his tongue around the marks left by Dominic. And it was a long time before Buffy thought about calling any of the people on the list. And afterwards, she was glad the house was otherwise empty. If it hadn't been, she would have been very embarrassed.
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