Chapter Thirteen

The nonchalance with which she said it sent a shiver down his spine as he watched her put out her cigarette and rest her arms on her knees. Pushing the disturbing feeling aside, he casually added, "Plus, it's got the tree thing going for it." At her questioning glance, he elaborated unthinkingly. "You know, Willow, Ash, MysticTree."

His eyes were scanning the motorcycle so he didn't see her head jerk in his direction, her emerald orbs wide. "Now, if I remember correctly, there's a Celtic Tree Month of Willow, and one of Ash. I assume that's what the Mystic part refers to. That and your whole magic thing anyway."

He was pinned by a piercing jade gaze when he turned around, and as she spoke, he realized his mistake. "How the hell did you know about that?"

In a desperate attempt to evade the question, he plastered an innocent expression on his face, saying, "About the Celtic Tree Month thing? Well, I did used to help out in the Magic Box occasionally, and I picked up a couple-"

She cut him off, her tone sharp. "No, the name. I only went by MysticTree online, and I know I never spoke to you on the net. So how exactly did you know what my screen name was?" The slow, calm voice matched the icy glare aimed in his direction.

Cursing his own stupidity, he stamped out his cigarette and ran his fingers through his bleached locks. This particular topic was not one he wanted to discuss. While he had spent many nights and days after arriving in LA talking with Angel about the hacker and the events surrounding her death, he had never told his sire about this.

The information he had inferred from his findings had not been the type he had even dared to believe, let alone speak aloud. It seemed that he no longer had that choice, however, and he reluctantly explained what he had done that had given him such knowledge. Only by sheer will power did he keep the majority of emotion from his voice as he spoke. Keeping his eyes firmly planted on the ground, he slowly made his way to the mouth of the small alley.

As his story unfolded, his mind became lost in a tumultuous sea of questions to which he had no answers. After he had taken her body to the hospital and contacted her friends, he had wandered the town's dark streets.

Ending up at her parent's home, he had let himself into her room, and during his visit had found a discarded printout of an IM conversation between the hacker and her immortal mentor. In it, Adam had explained the proper way to perform an illusion of an individual. At the time, he had forcibly extinguished the burning hope that his findings had lit in his nonexistant soul.

His mind now conjured the same crucial question which he had contemplated that night so long ago. Could she possibly harbor feelings for a demon such as himself? He had witnessed first hand her use of his visage in her illusion. Could that possibly mean he had met the criteria for the subject of the magical lesson? And if he had, would he still, after all this time?

An identical battle of doubt and hope raged amongst the witch's thoughts, as his words took her back to that night five years before when she had experienced her first death. Fear gripped her as she realized what conversation he must have found. She remembered having studied one particular printout that night in preparation for her lesson on illusions from Adam.

Throughout the conversation the immortal had told her the best way to perform an illusion of a person for the first time was to use someone that she had strong feelings for and saw or thought of often so as to create it most realistically. The possibility that he had seen her project his own face in the illusion fed the flames of panic within her.

She recalled how she had let her emotions show as she died, thinking at the time that it would not matter if he learned the truth. But now she knew better and her anxiety increased as the possible repercussions suddenly seemed inevitable.

She had been aware that she might one day meet up with the blonde vampire again, though she had never thought it would be so soon. She had also contemplated the perceivable outcomes of such a meeting, knowing all along that whether he learned of her feelings for him or not, he would surely not return them. If he never knew, at least she could still indulge in the fantasy that he might care for her. The icy claw of fear tightened around her heart at the chance that he might have figured out what she really felt for him.

She loved him, that she knew. She had known it for almost six years. Though she had never thought that he would ever return that love, the barely discernible pain and sorrow that colored his words as he spoke of her death caused hope to ignite within her. *Could he actually feel the same?* With that question formed another; one she had to ask, had to know that answer to. Out of all the places in Sunnydale, why would he have gone to her room? "Why? Why there?"

Her unsteady voice drifted to his ears from somewhere behind him, neither having found the courage to face the other. He felt his own hope flare to life and somehow managed to answer despite his fear at her reaction. "You were dead. I guess I needed to be somewhere..."

For what must have been the first time in his vampiric existence, Spike was at a loss for words, not knowing how to express the solace his grief had forced him to seek amongst her possessions. "I just had to be with..." His voice trailed off and he had to swallow a lump that had formed in his suddenly dry throat.

He was angry that he was forced to admit the truth, and that he couldn't seem to figure out how. His frustration mounted, and mentally berating himself for his own cowardice, he blurted out the truth. "Bloody hell, woman! That shit was all that was left of you. I had to have time there. If I couldn't be with you then I sure as fuck was gonna be with your crap, ok?"

Shaking his head at the uncharacteristic sentimentality of his actions and mad that he had lost his temper, he took control of the fear that raged through him from the fact that he had finally told her how he felt without even knowing how she would take the news. He had always convinced himself that she wouldn't feel the same, but he still clung to the hope that he was wrong. After all, she had chosen to create his likeness in the illusion, knowing that she should use a subject for whom she cared deeply. And she had looked at him with such tenderness as she lay dying in his arms…

An offhand comment she had made less than an hour before took the opportunity to make itself known to the neutered vampire. Looking down at his leather duster, he turned around and made the largest gamble of his unife.

End Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

At some point during his speech, she had moved over to the bike, and stood facing the back of the alley. When he reached her, he swept aside the large mass of braids, his eyes falling on the image of an intricately designed dagger that was tattooed on her back, between her shoulder blades.

With the tip of his index finger, he slowly traced the outline. The grip, or handle, of the dagger was the long body of a dragon, whose tail curled into a circle behind it to wrap around a pentacle forming the pommel of the weapon. The dragon's outstretched wings made up the hilt while the blade seemed to extend from the beast's opened jaws. He felt her muscles tense as he grazed her porcelain skin with his finger. Leaning forward, he spoke quietly into her ear. "Leather and cigarettes luv?"

Her dying words to him floated into his mind and when he spoke again his voice was soft, but his tone serious. "I never did forget you, pet. Hell, I don't think I've gone a single frickin' day without thinking about you. Those first few months I damn near talked peaches' ear off, goin' on about how much I bloody missed you."

Grasping her shoulders, he turned her to face him, meeting her eyes with his own. Fear, and uncertainty were clear in the emerald depths as she allowed the carefully constructed walls around herself to fall away for the first time in five years.

"Really?" The tentative voice reminded him of the innocent girl he had known on the hellmouth. She looked down after he nodded in reply. She had spent the last five years hardening herself to the world, building her defenses, and in less than an hour he had reduced her to the shy, insecure girl she had been before she met Buffy.

"Goddess, Spike, I missed you so much." He titled her face upwards with his thumb and forefinger, gazing into her eyes in a silent exchange before he swooped down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

Remembering that she had to breathe, he pulled away, gently caressing the side of her face. "I love you, you know. Have for over five years."

"Six." A puzzled look overcame his features at the statement. "I've loved you for six." A wide grin spread across both faces and they met in another needy kiss. Teeth and tongues clashed, years of pent-up emotions freed at last.

Reluctantly, lips broke apart, his husky voice filtering through the lustful haze that had enveloped the witch. "See luv, you're not dead, that fire still burns. Of course, I might have to conduct a few, more thorough exams before I can be sure. But I'd say you're anything but ashes." He ran his hands up and down her arms, his cool touch soothing her heated flesh.

"Well, we wouldn't want there to be any question, now would we?" Flashing him an impish grin, she went on. "So, maybe you should conduct those exams. Maybe back at my place?"

His lips curled into a sexy smirk. "I think you may be right. Why don't you let me tell pops I'll met him at the hotel in the morning, and we can get to work." He slipped back into the shop, returning a minute later. As they prepared to leave, he looked over at her quizically. "So, you won't ever die?"

"Not unless I get real sloppy and let someone chop off my head."

"Well, you know what that means, don't 'cha luv?" A slight smile played at his lips as he waited for her answer.

"What?" One delicate eyebrow rose, her tone playful.

"That you're gonna have to put up with me for eternity," he said, shooting her a large grin.

"And how's that?" She wrapped her arms around his neck, staring into the bottomless sapphire pools.

His expression turned serious as he cupped her cheek with one hand. "I won't let you leave me again, pet. Not now that I've got you. These last five years, thinking you were dead, they were hell. I won't do it again."

"Don't worry Spike. I'm not going anywhere." Lips met and tongues played, as the two melted into each other's embrace. A few minutes later, they mounted the Yamaha and rode off into the warm night. Together. After all, they only had eternity, and they didn't want to waste a moment.

End Chapter Fourteen

End Story