Disclaimer: the characters belong to Joss Whedon and the lyrics are Smile by James Marsters.

A/N: this is pure, plot-less, indulgent fluff, nothing more. It may not be the best piece of writing in the world, but we all need some easy-reading fluff in our lives, and what's better than Spuffy fluff? Hah, that's a great phrase: 'Spuffy fluff.'
There are a couple spoilers here for S5 of AtS, so if you haven't watched that then maybe don't read this? Also a knowledge of BtVS S7 ending is needed, but I would think the majority of Angel fans would know Buffy! I hope you enjoy.

Buffy walked into the bar and almost walked out again when she saw it was open mic night, but the fact that it wasn't even half full propelled her to an empty bar stool and ordering something strong. She had only been in LA for two days and already the stress of dealing with Angel and another apocalypse was weighing down on her – that and the fact she was sure he and his team were hiding something. If they weren't, then Angel had become way more shifty since she had last seen him, and what other reason would cause them to stop whatever conversation they were having when she walked into the room? Gunn had said they were coming up with a strategy, but then why not include her?

She sighed gratefully when the bartender finally placed her martini in front of her. After paying him, she took a sip and grimaced slightly at the taste. Tuning into her surroundings, she smiled when she heard the end of probably the worst rendition of 'I Will Always Love You' ever and the smattering of applause from the tiny audience. She spent the pause between the switching of artists staring into her glass and not thinking about a certain self-sacrificing, annoying blond vampire she was in love with and would never see again.

Later on, she would laugh hysterically at the irony of this thought compared to the rest of her night.

Outside of her thoughts, she heard the scraping of a chair echoing from the stage and the mechanical hum of the mic as it was adjusted. Buffy rolled her eyes. Would you just get on with it? she thought with a sigh, downing the rest of her drink and signalling for another. She waited for the cheesy backtrack to start, but it never did. Instead, she heard the soft strumming of a guitar, followed by a male voice.

In, I'm falling in
Didn't want to, not so fast, boy...

Her new glass froze on its path to her lips. She knew that voice, that irresistible voice and the impossibility of hearing it again. It couldn't be...

Slow, don't wanna hurt the girl
Give her a pretty box, you'd better fill it

She looked around slowly, wanting to see if she was hearing things but at the same time cautious. What if it wasn't him? She didn't think she could bear the pain. Taking a steadying breath, she turned to face the stage. Her eyes widened.

But then I get blinded when she opens the door
It's like looking into the sun, y'know
And I'm just blinking, mumbling, staring at my shoes
And she just looks at me, and smiles

Buffy's gaze was fixed, the glass she held dangling dangerously from her limp grasp as her mind focused solely on the man singing. His eyes were closed, hands softly strumming a guitar as he sang gently.

Oh, here we go again
And it feels so good, we're falling up and down

The whole of the tiny audience was mesmerised, looking and listening to this gorgeous man serenading some unknown woman. Buffy hadn't moved, couldn't move, her mind too engrossed in processing the sight before her. It couldn't be real. He couldn't be real. And yet...

Damn, it's 2AM again
And she kisses me goodbye for the sixteenth time
And I'm driving home, it's 5AM
I look at the sun come up over the hills
The clouds are turning pink and green
And all I can see, is her eyes

His eyes flickered open, his gaze searching the bar until he saw her. Her doe-eyed expression made him smile gently as the tears she'd been holding in crept down her cheeks. Keeping his gaze trained on her, he sang the last chorus and finished to a round of applause and cat-calls. As he took the guitar off and placed it beside the small stage Buffy finally looked away, setting down her glass and wiping her cheeks hurriedly with a napkin.

"You look beautiful, luv," his voice sounded soft in her ear. She jumped slightly but kept her eyes trained on the napkin she held as she twisted it in her fingers.

"I didn't know you could play guitar," she said quietly.

"S'just something I picked up."

"When?"

"A long time ago."

"So not after Sunnydale?" her voice was calm, controlled.

He paused, not quite sure what she was feeling. "No, not after Sunnyhell, wouldn't have had the time. Been busy being resurrected, being a ghost then having my hands chopped off."

She wanted to look at him then, but held herself steady: "You're hands were chopped off?"

"Yeah, that lovely rogue slayer of yours did that. What's-her-name...Dana."

Buffy nodded shortly. She had run out of things to say, and the sound and smell and presence of him was beginning to soften her anger. She couldn't look at him, she thought that would break her resolve. After a pause, when he saw she wasn't going to reply, he continued: "I'm alright though, they're magicked on good as new," his hands appeared to the left of her vision, his right arm gently brushing against her. She looked at them and without thinking slowly reached over her left hand and gently linked it with his right, letting out a breath when their hands connected. She could feel a scar on his palm and knew he could feel the corresponding one on hers. He squeezed her hand, "Buffy?"

The question in his tone drew her eyes to him, and she was lost. Her eyes misted with fresh tears: "Spike?"

His free hand lifted to caress her cheek and the touch broke both a sob and a laugh from her and she threw herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck and hands gripping his collar. His arms were around her at once, holding her securely in a place she had never thought she would be again. She buried her head under his chin, breathing his scent as joyful sobs escaped her chest. Spike closed his eyes and moved one of his hands up to tangle in her hair as he smiled and relished the feel of her in his arms.

They stayed like that for an eternity and then she slowly pulled back, glassy eyes looking up into his as her expression turned sombre and her hand lifted to touch his cheek: "I never thought I'd see you again."

He looked at her with a pained expression: "Buffy, luv, I'm so sorry. I thought...well, I don't know what I was bloody thinking but-" her finger on his lips cut him off. She shook her head gently.

"Don't explain now, explain after."

He frowned slightly: "After what?"

Buffy smiled slightly and tilted her head up as her gaze flickered between his eyes and his lips. Spike quickly got the message and just had time to smirk slightly before he dipped his head and their lips met in a soft kiss. His hands gripped her waist and hers made their way to tangle in the small hairs and the nape of his neck as they kissed slowly, relishing the taste of each other. When they eventually parted, she breathing heavily, he dropped a kiss on her neck then rested his forehead on hers. "God I love you so much," he whispered.

A smiled brightened her features and she looked up at him. "I know how you feel," she replied, and as he was about to say something she cut in: "And don't tell me 'no you don't' again, mister. You only got away with that last time 'cause you were being all heroic and dying."

Spike smirked. "Well I had to get you out of there somehow, didn't I?"

Her eyes widened: "You mean you knew I meant it?"

"Well, no not really. I thought I did, or I hoped I did. Then I remembered how you looked when you said it, and I knew," he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear then looked at her intently: "Say it again."

She smiled, placed a hand against his cheek and held his gaze. "I love you, Spike. William, I love you," she whispered only for him and she was rewarded by the most brilliant, genuine smile that had ever crossed his features. Suddenly he pulled her closer and kissed her passionately and she responded in kind, pressing herself against him. A pointed cough from beside them broke them apart. It was the bartender, and he raised his brow meaningfully before shaking his head and continuing to silently wipe the glass he was holding. Buffy bit her lip in embarrassment. "Oops."

She turned to Spike, whose eyes were alight with amusement and love. "Guess we got carried away, pet," he chuckled slightly then put his arm around her shoulders and began to walk them out of the bar. "What do you say we get outta here?"

"Sure," she replied, wrapping her arm around his waist. "We can go to Wolfram and Hart. I really need to kick Angel's ass for not telling me you were alive."

Spike laughed lowly: "Sounds like fun, luv, can't wait to see that," he smirked at the visualisation.

"Oh don't get too carried away. You're next after him," she said brightly.

Spike's smirk slipped off his face as he grimaced slightly. Should've known I wouldn't get away so easy.

"But don't worry," she added when she saw his expression, "I'll make it up to you afterwards."

As they left the bar and began walking in the direction of Angel's building, Spike's smirk slowly reappeared: "Yeah, sounds like fun alright."

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