Buon Natale?

For: canadia_bit
Rating: R
Request: Other characters: Any of the Scoobies would be fine. It's Christmas 2004. Buffy invites the Scoobies to come to Rome for a "Buon Natale". Three guesses who shows up on her doorstep. No. No. Oh come on! It's Spike, of course! Yay! A very merry Christmas indeed.

Response: Set in the middle of Season 5 of Angel. Spike comes to visit for Christmas in Rome, as requested.



“Oh, that should be Giles. I sent him out to see if eggnog is actually available in Rome or whaaaAAAA!” The crash of breaking glass brings the rest of the group into the living room. Standing in the open door, Buffy is frozen, a broken wineglass and red liquid spattered at her feet.

“Buffy? Are you okay? We heard a craaa - oh my god.” Willow’s voice is quiet and stunned at the sight that greets her. “Spike?”

The cacophony of voices behind Willow surges into a dull roar until Spike finally clears his throat and speaks. “Um...hello Buffy. I...would have called first, but I thought...uh... Are you okay, pet? Buffy?” Still staring, Buffy gapes at the blond before her in the doorway. “Oh god, Red, she’s gone catatonic.”

As Willow comes a step closer, Buffy holds up a hand. “No. No, I’m not catatonic. I’m...well...Spike?” She reaches forward. “Are you real? Do you guys see him, too?”

A group nod as all have fallen silent. Buffy’s shaking fingers reach Spike’s shirt and brush against it, making them both shudder. “You ARE real.”

Spike smiles. Buffy frowns. The next thing he sees is a tiny fist flying towards his face and then, blackness.

. . .

Spike moans, his head throbbing as he comes awake. Squinting his eyes, he doesn’t recognize the room, but he does recognize the pissed off face hovering above him. Buffy. He closes his eyes again, puts his hand to his cheek, flinching at his sore jaw.

“Damn, Slayer. It used to take you more than one punch to knock me cold.”

“Wasn’t usually as pissed off as I am now.” Buffy stands next to the bed, frowning down at him, arms crossed. Spike sits up, head spinning. They are alone in the room, which looks to be Buffy’s bedroom.

“Right. I guess you are wondering what happened to me, right?”

“I called Angel. He told me. Something he was apparently unable to do for the last six months.” The edge to her voice makes Spike flinch. He’s heard that before.

“Guess I was out for awhile...” He smiles a little, but Buffy doesn’t break.

“A bit. Plus, Angel didn’t really get large with the details.”

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice, his face, his entire body screams with apology and Buffy feels her stiff upper lip start to tremble.

“And just which thing are you sorry for, Spike? The part where you came back to life and never called? The part where you hung around in L.A. for months while I cried over you? The part where you died a hero and left me all alone? Which part EXACTLY are you sorry for?!” Her entire body is shaking with fury and sorrow and it is almost too much for Spike and for her.

He stands up, takes her into his arms. Something she fights for just a few seconds. Pulling her tight to him, he presses his lips to the top of her head, whispering to her. “God, Buffy. All of it. I’m fucking sorry. Sorry I died, sorry I came back and didn’t tell you. I was scared, love. I died a hero and came back a shadow. Why would you want me?”

She pulls back to meet his eyes. “Damn it, Spike. Do you ever listen to me? Because I love you, you big stupid idiot!” She sniffles, not at all convincing in her anger now.

Spike looks down at her hazel eyes, swimming in unshed tears. For a moment he is back in the Hellmouth, his soul burning him from the inside out. The same look on the Slayer’s face, the same words from her lips. Damn. She really does love him.

“I...I didn’t know, pet. I swear to God, I didn’t. Thought you were being nice to a burning man.”

“Am I the girl who is nice for the sake of it, Spike? Or do I say what I think?”

“The second thing.”

“Exactly. Meant it then, mean it now.” While the conversation has continued, Buffy hands begin to roam over Spike’s body. A touch here, a touch there. Making sure he is real, re-mapping him. He has felt every caress and is finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on her words.

“You know I love you, Buffy. Fiery death won’t stop that.” The ice officially broken, the apologies made, the shock of reunion still shaking them both, the air starts to fill with sexual tension. In their eyes, their hands, there is a restraint that is failing. Buffy pulls away and Spike thinks it was maybe too much to hope for. Then, she gets to the door and locks it. The small click is like the final crack in the dam as Spike flies to her, taking her back against the door.

“Oh, Spike!” Fingers fly, pulling clothes, ripping them when necessary until skin meets skin. Biting, kissing, tasting and they can’t do any of it fast enough, hard enough, soon enough. The moaning and gasping rises as their bodies finally join together.

Meanwhile, Xander stands up from outside Buffy’s door, face flushed.

“What? What’s going on? Are they fighting?” Willow waits for word.

Xander shakes his head, takes Willow by the arm. “They’re...making up. Let’s go...”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Could you hear them talking?”

“Something like that.”

Willow glances back to the door and just then, Buffy screams Spike’s name. Her eyes widen and they both scurry back to the safety of the kitchen and another glass of fine wine.