One more story beginning... always an exciting moment for me, and i can only hope you'll enjoy what's coming as much as i enjoy writing it.
 
Big thanks go to Kumi for the help, moral support and beta'ing - Heaven's Key would never have been written without you, dear.

In advance, i want to thank also each person who will take a moment in their busy day to leave feedback, either here or on LiveJournal. Please believe that i am very grateful for all comments, and i will try to answer to them all.

And now...
Chapter 1 - In their Hands



When she stepped down the ladder and into the darkened lower room in the middle afternoon, Buffy wasn’t surprised to discover Spike asleep. The previous night had been rough, assorted demons and vampires making it one of the most eventful ones of the summer – at least so far. After the fight, they had spent even more energy in a much more pleasant way; it was a wonder that Spike’s crypt was still standing.

Leaving her shoes behind her, she tiptoed to the bed, hoping despite herself that, this time, she wouldn’t wake him. She always felt a little guilty when she did.

“Luv?”

The half purred, half murmured word drifted in the air just as she reached the side of the bed. She shook her head, smiling to herself.

“Shh… go back to sleep.”

He was turning toward her but she stilled him with a gentle hand on his shoulder before slipping into the bed behind him. With a quiet noise of appreciation, he shifted back until he was against her, and she slid an arm around him to hold him where he was, tight against her. His hand covered hers, their fingers intertwined.

It was always difficult to tell whether he was asleep or not, but when after a few minutes he hadn’t moved, she knew he was sleeping; there was no way he could be silent and immobile that long when she was around if he was conscious.

She loved to curl up in bed with him like this. Often enough, he was the one holding her close, guarding her back in their intimacy as he so often did when they were fighting. She liked the feeling it gave her of being so entirely safe and loved, and rarely if ever could she relax as much as she did when he held her so. But to be the one holding him as she now was felt completely different. It meant having him show his trust in her and finally be able to sleep more deeply than he usually could in the crypt, where anyone – or anything – could intrude whenever they wanted. It meant, also, sometimes hearing the delicious purr that told her exactly how content he was in her arms. It meant saying without a word that she would protect him the best she knew how, as long as she could, and knowing he would do the same for her. It meant, simply, that she loved him.

And more and more often, especially in quiet moments like this one, she felt this deep, tranquil certitude that she would love him until the day she died – and even beyond.



“I can’t believe you forgot.”

As he considered the fuming Slayer in front of him, Spike could only wonder what the hell she was talking about. Rather than asking, he took note that she looked lovely in her summer dress, although it didn’t seem very effective for patrol. She had been hinting for a few days about something that ought to have happened that night, but Spike still had no clue what exactly. Judging by her glare, however, he should have known and would suffer for his error, whatever that was.

He gave up on trying to guess and sat down on the edge of the sarcophagus. He itched to take out his fags and light one, but that would undoubtedly only add to her irritation. She usually kept quiet about his smoking habit, but the disgusted looks she threw his cigarettes told another story.

“And what is it that I forgot?” he asked, trying to sound reasonably contrite.

She sighed and raised her eyes toward the ceiling; and Spike had to fight the smile threatening to erupt on his lips. She was quite the little drama queen when she wanted to be.

“Our anniversary,” she said pointedly, and glared some more.

As he did a little math in his head, the numbers didn’t add up and Spike was left dubious.

“Our anniversary?” he questioned. “How do you figure that out?”

It had to be the very worst thing to say when she glared at him even more.

“It’s been three months since our first time,” she informed him. “I thought it meant enough to you that you’d remember. Especially seeing all the hints I’ve dropped.”

Sliding off the sarcophagus, Spike shook his head as he approached her. She was pouting, and in other circumstances, he might have thought it was cute.

“October.”

She frowned, obviously not understanding

“Our first time was in October,” he clarified. “That’s a bit more than three months ago, isn’t it?”

Her features softened a little and what could have been an apologetic look passed through her eyes.

“I meant, our second first time,” she explained more calmly, and Spike finally understood. He didn’t particularly mind that she tried to forget how badly their first attempt at a relationship had ended; he could understand why she did. Fresh start and all that. Yet, as far as he was concerned, he was counting it all. The good, the glorious, and the ugly. To deny that they had stumbled once, to forget why they had, was too much like accepting it could happen again; he was determined not to let things go that way another time, not if he could do anything about it.

“Right. So. Three months anniversary, is it?”

She smiled and reached to take both his hands in hers.



“So, spill. How was it?”

Judging by the color rising in Buffy’s cheeks, there seemed to be more to the story than Willow was ready to hear.

“No need for graphic details,” she amended her request. “Because, you know, gay now, so not interested in hearing about your boyfriend’s prowess. Not wondering about that. Ever.”

Her friend’s eyebrow rose a little, questioning, and Willow shut her mouth before she made more of a fool out of herself. That had so not come out as she had intended. She had merely wanted to know how the previous evening had gone for Buffy, since her friend had asked the gang if they would take on patrol duty for the night as she had plans. In truth, they had been expecting such a request for a little while; Buffy had commented on the gang’s last trip to the beach on what a romantic place it had to be by night. They had all assumed she wanted to go there with Spike.

Willow had been patiently waiting, since she had arrived at the Bronze, to have a one on one conversation with Buffy, and Tara excusing herself to the restrooms while Xander and Anya were on the dance floor had done just the trick. If Buffy didn’t start talking soon however the chance would be lost.

“Come on… Did you have fun at least?”

Smiling bashfully as she looked into her glass, Buffy nodded.

“It was very nice. We walked along the beach. Also I had taken a picnic blanket and ice cream and… well… did I mention we walked along the beach?”

Willow’s eyes widened as she leaned over the table to get closer to Buffy and whisper:

“You naughty girl! Still not asking details but did you…”

“Who’s being naughty?”

Startled by Spike’s sudden appearance, Willow jerked back and almost fell off the high stool she was sitting on. Vampiric reflexes jumped in, though, and with a firm hand on her forearm Spike helped her regain her balance. He didn’t comment on her near fall as he slipped in on the other side of Buffy and sat near her.

“And why don’t you want details?” he continued, smirking at Willow as if nothing had happened. “Details are fun.”

It was Willow’s turn to blush under his amused eyes.

“Stop teasing her,” Buffy protested with a light slap to his hand on the table. “And you’re late.”

It wasn’t very often that Willow had the chance to see Buffy and her boyfriend interact as such; usually, she saw them as the Slayer and one of her sidekicks. And so she observed with interest Buffy’s mock pouting, Spike’s genuine smile, the way their hands played on the table, the barely-more-than-lips-pressed-together kiss that followed Spike’s explanation for why he was late.

Tara returned at that moment, and Willow’s interest and smile shifted toward her as she wondered whether they looked as cute together as Buffy and Spike did. It suddenly struck her that she was thinking that a vamp looked cute and she shook her head, a little amused. Only on the Hellmouth…



Familiar voices drifted up to her room from the first floor and Dawn jumped off her bed, barely taking the time to hide her diary under her pillow before straightening her clothes with one hand and quickly giving her hair a few brush strokes with the other. If she had known that Spike would be coming tonight, she would have worn something nicer than plain jeans and a pink t-shirt. She didn’t want to lose time and change now, though; who knew how long he would stay?

Rushing down the steps, she joined everyone in the kitchen, smiling brightly as she came to lean against the counter close to Spike. He smiled back at her as they said hi; Buffy, on the other hand, rolled her eyes, but Dawn couldn’t have cared less.

She listened carefully as the discussion shifted from hot cocoa to her mom’s gallery to Buffy’s school projects, jumping in as often as she could, nodding wisely whenever Spike said something. She watched him, also, trying not to be too obvious and not to scowl whenever he looked at Buffy that way, or when he reached with his hand to push a strand of hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek as he did.

It was all terribly unfair. For almost two years, Spike had been coming to their home to talk with their mom and Dawn had slowly gained the right to talk to him too; and then, just as she had thought they were friends, Buffy had finally taken a liking to him and now they were inseparable. Unfair, there was no other word for it. Dawn had liked him way before Buffy even noticed him, and she had never been mean to him like Buffy had. Why didn’t he like her rather than Buffy? So what if she was a bit young? It wasn’t as if he was getting any older himself after all. And he had never treated her like a kid. He even had a special name for her. Sometimes she wondered…

Too soon – it was always too soon these days – he left with Buffy, supposedly to patrol although Dawn suspected it wasn’t all they did together. She scrunched up her nose at the disturbing thought and returned to her diary, where she narrated with all possible details the evening, how utterly charming Spike had been and what an awful sister Buffy was.



Sweet Bit… Was she really in our lives at that point, or was it more of the fake memories? How could we ever know when she was created, when the memories became real? Not that it changes anything, both sets of memories feel as real; it just would be nice to know, for curiosity’s sake.

But anyway.

When I think back on that summer and compare it to the one before, I am always amazed at the differences. So much changed when the Slayer started returning my feelings. So much changed the months after that, too, but I’ll leave that part to you.

Some things didn’t change, of course. We still patrolled each and every night. Together. Side by side, although more often than not I’d take her back and let her fight because she could do it and I knew it. No reason for me to fight her battles, especially since I always enjoyed watching her. We still had company from the Scoobies or her Watcher every now and then; they were a tad friendlier than the year before, although Rupert watched me with the falcon eyes of a concerned father. Soldier boy was still around, too, claiming that all he wanted was to help fight demons, but I knew he had an eye on Buffy, and I made it clear to him, more than once, that he would have to stake me before he could get closer to her. I still went to Revello every so often for a chat and a cocoa drink with Joyce and Dawn. But beyond the common threads, everything was different.

Most nights, we ended up at the crypt after patrol. Watching a movie while we cuddled on the couch, or did more, much more than cuddling. It seemed to depend on the level of adrenaline caused by our patrols; quiet patrols led to quiet, tender evenings, and hard fights to burning lovemaking. We were always well matched in that aspect, I’ve got to admit.

Her mum had requested that she come home each night, arguing that she had to set a proper example for Dawn. For the same reason, she asked that I not spend the night, although she said it in a far less straightforward way. So, we complied, however nice it would have been to spend a whole night in each other’s arms. Afterglow naps and afternoon cuddles had to suffice. Our self-imposed curfew was between two and three in the morning; I’d walk her home, we’d share a nice good night kiss and say goodbye. There was this unspoken promise between us that when she returned to college no one would keep tabs on where she spent her nights. We had all the time in the world in the palm of our hands, didn’t we? No reason to rush or upset Joyce.

I’m pretty sure I know what’s in your mind. You’re thinking Joyce was still trying to get between the two of us, don’t you? Well no, I don’t think that’s what it was. Other than this request of having Buffy sleep at home, Joyce truly seemed to have accepted that her daughter was in love with a vampire, and she never broached the ‘normal life and boyfriend’ subject again, not with me, not with Buffy. I believe by then it had finally sunk in that her daughter would never be able to live like everyone else. That, and Joyce liked me enough, I think, to see past the fangs.

Days were long, when I was alone in my crypt with nothing but the memory of the Slayer in my mind and her scent around me. Thankfully, she came to me often enough, practically every day, and sometimes, we’d talk for hours about little things. Dawn’s latest mischief. The classes she was thinking of taking in the fall. Her plans to go to the beach or to the Bronze with her friends. I’ve never been one to dance – at least, not that kind of dancing – so I’d join them there late in the evening and we’d go patrol after that. I’d always watch her for a little while when she was on the dance floor, admiring her grace and fire, and knowing she was my girl. My Slayer. As independent and strong as she has always shown herself, it’s hard not to call her mine.

And that was how our first months as a couple went. Calm, playful, and fiery. A lot of love and passion. A few disagreements but never anything important. It was a gorgeous summer; I only wish it could have lasted. But if it had, there wouldn’t have been much of a point to this story, right?

Next Chapter ~ Heaven's Key index ~ Spuffy Menu

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The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.