By Ehann

Part 9: Epilogue

When she woke up, her hand automatically reached out, searching the cool sheets. Empty. She blinked a few times, and rubbed her eyes. They felt gritty and dry and she just knew that when she made it to a mirror that they’d be all red and shot out.

Buffy rolled to her side, drawing up her knees and nuzzling her cheek into the pillow. Something felt off kilter. Something felt…wrong. A flash of hurt struck her and was suppressed. You came back wrong. No, it didn’t matter. If anything, she felt…sad. It was strange, she’d felt like this every day since she’d returned from—from being dead. It was only in the past few…God, had it been only days? Only days since she stopped feeling that awful deep down soul-sick sadness and loss? Could that be?

Maybe, that was why she felt so odd this morning. Because she had finally started to be…well, almost happy. Her sister was safe, and Spike…Spike…

Spike loved her. And somehow, she loved him. A shy smile broke across her face at the thought of her lover, and suddenly she didn’t feel so empty inside. Buffy sat up and threw back the blankets.

It was quick business to take care of her morning routine. Breakfast for herself and Dawn. Check the time. Pack lunch and kiss goodbye. Then she was alone. Buffy stood idly in the door, for a moment, just enjoying the feel of the sun on her face. She closed her eyes dreamily, breathing slowly. She smelled fresh cut grass and …did it smell a little like rain? Opening her eyes, she scanned the sky. No clouds, no rain.

God. She spent so much time in the night, that it was hard to stand out here in the light, with nothing to hide behind. Or to hide from, her mind whispered. Still, it would be kinda nice to have a tan again, instead of the fresh from the grave, deathly pale skin she currently sported. Hmm. Maybe, she would lay out today. Maybe she would even splurge and buy a horrible romance novel and read it. Maybe she—

She stepped out into the day and closed the door behind her. She walked until she was nearly running, heart pounding and drawing in breath that fought against her abdominal muscles. She ran until she was nearly flying, using all of the power and speed she possessed. She had never done this before during the day. For she had been a creature of the night for so long….that she had nearly lost the light.

But she had it now. Had it in every bone, every breath, every cell. It was easy, this gait of hers. Easy to fly on land, with her feet barely touching the earth. She flew past the tombstones and graves, leaping over a few because she could. It stopped suddenly, this altered state of hers and she realized that she’d been pretty much out of it since she’d left her house. But it didn’t matter.

The crypt door eased open, and she turned her back on the day and slipped into—

Night. Always night, under the earth. That didn’t matter either. Carefully, she crept down the ladder, barely making a sound.

He started when she crawled in next to him. “Wha—Buffy?” His voice was thick, full of sleep.

“Yeah. It’s me.” She scooted closer, sliding one arm around his neck. Her fingers tangled in the short curls at his nape.

“Something wrong?” He had not opened his eyes yet.

She thought about the question. Taking a quick inventory, she decided there was not. “Nope.” She finally said. “I…” She wasn’t exactly sure how to put her feelings into words. She looked down at the sheets. When she glanced back to his face she found herself pinned by his blue gaze. For a moment that lasted an eternity, she could only stare and wonder how she’d never noticed how gorgeous his eyes really were for all those years. Then that made her think of all the times Spike had tried to kill her, and tried unapologetically. Of course, she’d given a little of her own back too…

“You in there, Buffy?” Those eyes had narrowed. She nodded hastily, and he continued, “Still a little weird to find you in here not trying to dust me.”

She grinned, amused at how his words echoed her thoughts. “Well, you haven’t been pissing me off lately.”

He smirked and slid his hand down to her hip, tugging her it him. “Doesn’t matter if I do, I can always kiss you and shut you up.”

“Maybe I’ll keep my mouth shut when you try.”

“Maybe I won’t be heading for your mouth.” At this, Buffy finally laughed, long and hard; bracing guffaws that made her cheeks ache and her stomach sore. He did kiss her though, so thoroughly that by the time he pulled away she was clutching at his back and moaning into his mouth.

She sobered quickly, however. “I need to say something.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Spike felt his back stiffen. This sounded too much like she was cutting him loose. “What is it?” He demanded. If she was going to do it, for god’s sake, he hoped she did it painlessly, not dragging it on forever.

She looked troubled, a swift change from her lightheartedness of a moment ago. “I think we should make some changes.”

“Changes.” He repeated flatly. He rolled to his side of the bed. Spike leaned over and rooted on the night table for his smokes. He lit one, and feeling better, more like Spike and less like the lovesick fool, he somehow managed to say, “Well, go ahead.” He propped his feet on the box spring, not turning to her at all. He didn’t need to see her face when she did it. To hear her voice would be bad enough.

“Um,” she sounded tense, “I woke up this morning and I was thinking—”

Here it comes. He waited silently, not for any lack of words, but rather because he doubted his ability to shove the words past his Adam’s apple. He took a deep drag and blew the smoke off, watching it curl and dissipate.

“Spike. What I’m talking about is…I mean…”

He exploded off the bed, throwing the half smoked cigarette down in fury. “Christ alive, Slayer, spit it out!” He stood naked, watching her.

She looked shocked, he’d give her that. Then her mouth drew together in an O. Finally her brows lowered and she looked damned pissed off. Well, bully for her! About bloody time.

“You are a moron,” she said clearly. “What, did you think I was giving you some ‘Dear John’ speech?” Spike said nothing, mainly because he had thought exactly that. “I just wanted to say that…when I woke up this morning…Well, you weren’t there and I—” She drew in a deep breath. “It felt like you should be.” She spoke quickly, her words running on top of each other in haste.

He just stared at her. Mouth dry. Couldn’t say a word.

“I woke up and I felt…sad.” She looked down. “I missed you.” Buffy raised her eyes then, meeting his, and what he saw there…! She climbed over the bed and hopped off. She reached out and he felt her touch his shoulder. Her hand slid down until her fingers nestled securely in his.

“Buffy…” His voice was hoarse, strained. He flexed his fingers around hers.

“What I’m saying is…I think we should figure out some sort…arrangement…or something…So I know when I’ll see you again.”

Spike could resist no longer. A man could only take so much. He lowered his mouth and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, at the juncture of her neck. He heard her soft inhalation and from the corner of his eyes saw the good flesh rising in waves along her skin.

“I realized something this morning, Spike.” Her arms wrapped around his neck and she shifted closer to him , pressing the side of her hip directly against—

“Yeah?” His voice shook.

“Yes.” She leaned closer so her nose almost touched his. “I need the dark as much as I need the light. Think about it…Half the Earth, half the moon is always in shadow. That’s how I am.” She faltered a little but did not stop. “I need both to be whole.”

To Spike this sounded fairly important, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “Aren’t you whole now?”

She smiled, and kissed him. “Yeah. I am.”

FIN