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Chapter 22

For the second time that day, Spike had awoken enraptured by waking up next to Buffy; by watching her sleep. She lay on her side, turned slightly into him with one hand curled under head the other against her chest and a strand of hair falling across her face. It moved when she exhaled and it had to be the most endearing thing he'd ever seen. When she twitched her nose though, he decided to move it so it wouldn't tickle her nose to wakefulness. Mimicking her pose, he moved closer to her, feeling that even when she was in his arms, it wasn't close enough. His love for her overwhelmed him. She had to be some kind of siren that had put a spell on him. She held his heart in her hands and he felt her squeeze the tender organ whenever she smiled, laughed, cried, laughed, looked at him, said his name, kissed him and allowed herself to lean on him. He was almost afraid to make love to her, afraid he'd suffer a heart attack from just loving her so intensely. Love like this was what the poets wrote about, what lyricists sang about, what artists sought to create on their canvas's.

She started to move slightly, her legs stretching, her arms moving and her eye lids fluttering. Slowly she opened her eyes and let out a big yawn. Her eyes met his and she smiled sleepily.

"Hi," she whispered.

He smiled, feeling his heart squeeze. "Hi."

"Did you sleep?"

"Just woke up a bit before you. Sleep well?"

"I was just going to ask you the same question," she replied and stretched
again. She let out a sleepy moan. "Oh, I love it when things crack when you
stretch. Don't you?"

He nodded as he watched her, thinking her a graceful cat.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him, a playful smile on her lips.

"How lovely you are."


She grinned, "Did you just use the word ‘lovely'?"

He grinned back, knowing some smart ass remark was coming soon. He
couldn't wait. "I did."

"Am I gaying you up?"

He let out a loud belly laugh, rolling onto his back. "'Gaying' me up?"

"I've never heard any guy say ‘lovely' before."

He turned his head to look at her. "Don't like it?"

"I don't think you should say it in front of the guys."

"I can say it for you but no one else?"


"Right."

"So in their presence, I beat my chest and use words like ‘sexy' and ‘hot'?"

"Gorgeous might work. Even beautiful"

"Maybe you should make me a list."

She started to laugh and moved so that her head rested on his chest. She
took his hand that rested on his stomach and held it in her own, studying it.
Turning it over, tracing the lines, the knuckles, the nails, everything. He
watched her in fascination and wondered how in the world just that simple
act could get him harder than nails.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light, but it came
out raspy instead.

"Studying you."

"Why?"

"Your hands are so much bigger than mine," she murmured, putting her
hand flat against his palm.

"They are," he agreed, not sure where this was going. Seeing as how it was
Buffy, it had to be going somewhere.

"You could crush me with these hands."

"I wouldn't."

"I know. But you could."

"Do you think I would?"

"If I gave you the power to," she looked up at him.

He was catching on now. "How would you give me the power to do that?"

She rested her head back on his chest, not answering.

"Buffy?"

"What time is it?" she slipped away from him and when he tried to reach
for her, she eluded his grasp and went to her suitcase across the room. "I
brought an alarm clock for a reason and I never plugged it in. Do you have
the time?"

"Buffy. Stop." Spike said and sat up, watching her.

She turned to him slowly, looking down at the floor.

"Talk to me. Don't stop now. You said you can't keep the truth from me, so
what's with the skittishness and this talk of me crushing you if you gave me
the power to. What's going on in that head of yours?"

She took a deep breath, still not meeting his eyes. She started to gesture,
which meant she was trying to figure out how to word what she was going
to say. "Waking up with you was really nice. It was like even though I was
sleeping, I was still aware that you were here and I felt protected. I felt
that way this morning too. In fact, I've pretty much felt that way since I
told you I was pregnant. Safe. Like. . . I knew you'd be there to protect me
and help me."

"Because I'll always be here Buffy."

"When I was growing up and didn't have a lot of friends and my parents
were so into Harmony and all that crap, I came to the conclusion that the
only person you can rely on is yourself. That there are so many people in
the world that will try to hurt you, even if they don't start that way, it just
happens, inevitably. So I depended on myself and never on anyone else.
Somewhere along the way though, it shifted. And I didn't realize how much
it shifted until I told you I was pregnant and then with the weekend and
everything that's happened. It's like this little world that I created for
myself has been disrupted and –"

"Your protective fortress allowed someone in," Spike finished.

She looked up at him, finally. "Yeah. You're kind of standing in the doorway and there's this long hall in between us with a few guards and maybe some rubble from past attempts of ones that just got obliterated when they tried."

He couldn't help but smile, albeit weakly, at the imagery. "And the closer I
get, the more frightened you get."

She nodded. "I let you in and I give you power," her eyes welled with
tears. "Power to hurt me. It's a frightening concept and you're so close . . .
what would I do? Who would I turn to? You've always been my knight,
what would I do if I needed a knight against you?"

With that, Spike was up and grabbing her into his arms, sitting back on the
bed and cradling her in his arms. "Listen to me. I'm going to mess up. I'm
going to hurt you, though never intentionally. I'm not going to be perfect,
and no one is Buffy. Not even you. There will be days when we hurt each
other, but I know that you would never do it intentionally to me either.

Then there will be days where we'll laugh over something stupid Xander
does, or we'll have a heated debate on some random topic, or we'll share a paper at the coffee shop and play footsie under the table as you tease me about having to read the comics before the sports and I'll tease you about drinking iced coffee on the most blistering winter day. We'll always laugh, talk, debate, agree and disagree and even agree to disagree. It could never be boring, because, well look at us. It makes sense doesn't it, that the two weirdest people on the planet should get together? It's the only thing I understand with perfect clarity.

Yeah, it is scary, and it is a leap, but God Buffy, don't you see that it'd just hurt you more to not take that leap? Don't shut yourself off from doing something because you're afraid. It's not a good enough reason and the Buffy I know and love is a fighter. She goes after what she wants and isn't afraid to get a little dirty. Don't hide from it, let it happen and I'll be right here to catch you. Clean up the rubble, shove those guards out of the way and run down the long hall. I'll meet you right in the middle of it."

Her head popped up and she looked up at him with an intense fire in her eyes. Passion. Dare he hope—Love? Without a word, she grabbed his face and kissed him, hungrily. She kissed him with fervor and Spike felt the wind leave him, felt his blood rush, his heart pound and his skin tingle. The sheer force of that kiss was enough to knock him over if he'd been standing. He'd heard of people putting what they feel in a kiss, but this . . . there just weren't words for it.

And if this was what Buffy felt for him, then he knew without question that
her love and passion for him matched his for her.





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