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Buffy moved through the woods, the crunch of snow beneath her feet, and the faint sound of wind through the trees above, the only sounds breaking the silence. She remembered that Willow had told her that Giles’ place in Bath was a retreat, a place where the world did not seem to penetrate, and she was grateful for it.
Right now, she needed peace after six months on the front lines, training Slayers and going after various demons and other evil things that sought to kill as many of the brand new Slayers as possible. For six months, Buffy had been denying her grief by over-committing, trying to forget all of the losses she’d faced. Now, she had no choice but to grieve and remember, and it was something of a relief.
She tucked her hands deeper into her pockets and took a deep breath of crisp, cool air. Giles had said that this much snow was unusual for this part of England, but to Buffy, the idea of a white Christmas felt right in a way that few other things did these days.
Through the silence of the winter wonderland came the sound of footsteps that echoed behind her. Buffy frowned, wondering for a moment whether she had to worry about an attack out here, even though there were Watchers and Slayers both on guard.
Then again, Buffy figured she would have to be concerned about an attack for the rest of her life; that was the price she paid for being the oldest living Slayer on record. Everyone wanted a piece of her.
She considered for a moment, but there was no other way to confront whoever was behind her other than actually turning to do so. They would know if she tried to look behind her in any other way; she didn’t have a mirror, and even if she did, a compact would be out of place here the way it wouldn’t be on the streets of a major city.
Deciding that there was no other option, Buffy whirled to face her follower, and froze when she saw a familiar form with bleached-blond hair and a black duster.
For a moment, Buffy was certain that she was imagining things, then Spike moved towards her, gesturing at her footprints in the snow. “Giles told me I could find you out here,” Spike called. His voice was the same as it had been in those last moments under Sunnydale, nonchalant and seemingly unconcerned that he had been burning up the last time Buffy had seen him.
“Spike?”
“I wanted to see you as soon as possible, but I couldn’t come until now.” Spike took a few steps towards her. “Merry Christmas, Buffy.”
She moved towards him slowly, still uncertain as to whether or not he was an apparition. “Is it really you?”
“Apparently, the amulet was fishy after all,” Spike said, continuing to move closer. “I was trapped at Angel’s law firm until fairly recently.”
“I don’t believe it,” Buffy said, more to herself than him, but then Spike was there, within a hairsbreadth, and his hands were on her shoulders, gripping tightly.
With that contact, it was as if a spell was broken, and Buffy crushed him to her, pulling Spike into a tight embrace. “Oh, God, Spike. I thought you were dead.”
“Technically speaking, I’m pretty sure I was.” His voice was muffled by her hair, and she could feel each individual fingertip digging into her back.
“I meant it.” Buffy pulled back to look into Spike’s eyes. “I meant it.”
He frowned. “Meant what, love?”
“I meant what I said. I love you.” Buffy pressed her hands to his face, looking into familiar blue eyes under dark eyebrows, sharp cheekbones under her thumbs.
“I believe you.” Spike pressed a kiss to her mouth, her forehead, both of her eyelids, sweet and desperate. “I love you, too.”
Buffy clutched at him, unwilling to ask any questions just yet. That would all come later; right now, she just wanted to enjoy the feeling of Spike’s arms around her and forget the last six months spent without him.
“Stay with me.”
“Always.”
It was a promise Buffy knew he couldn’t keep, but she loved him for making it anyway.