All My Heart This Night Rejoicing by Enigmaticblue

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Part 4: Love

Buffy woke early the next morning, rising almost immediately. Spike was still sleeping deeply, his face calm. He looked younger, the lines around his mouth and eyes easing. Pausing briefly to touch his hair with a gentle hand, she went out to find herself a cup of coffee.

Xander was already in the kitchen when she came down, and Buffy was a little surprised to see him awake already. In Sunnydale, he'd never been one for rising early if he didn't need to be at a construction site. "What are you doing up?"

He greeted her with a half-smile and poured her a cup of coffee. "Time difference plus jet lag," he said in explanation. "But I'm used to getting up early these days. How's Spike?"

Both the question and the tone behind it surprised her. Xander not only didn't sound mocking, but rather concerned. "Sleeping. I don't think he's been able to do much of that for the past few months."

"Yeah, probably not," Xander agreed. "It's tough to lose friends." He gave her a concerned look, his good eye focusing on her intently. "How are you with all of this, Buf? I know you and Angel hadn't seen each other in a while, but..."

Buffy swallowed hard, the grief that had been threatening welling up in her eyes. "I don't know, Xander. I mean, it's just so good to have Spike here, but Angel—" Tears choked her words, and she suddenly found herself engulfed in one of Xander's bear hugs.

They stayed like that for a few minutes as Buffy's shoulders shook with silent sobs, her old friend patting her back comfortingly. When she pulled back, Buffy gave him an embarrassed smile. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he said simply. "You and Spike?"

"I don't know," Buffy replied. "I never thought I'd get another chance, and now here it is."

Xander smiled. "Well, if I were you, I'd strike while the iron's hot. It's not every day the undead comes back the living dead."

It was a bad pun, but there was no malice there. Xander was just being Xander, looking at her with the expression an older brother might have for a sister who had just found herself a problematic boyfriend. The teasing was obligatory.

"When did you get all mature?" Buffy asked, thankful that he wasn't going to make a big deal over her and Spike, and that he was so understanding about Angel.

"Africa had something to do with it," he admitted. "It's simpler there, in a way. Different." A flush spread over his face. "And there's a woman."

Buffy grinned broadly. "Really? Let's hear it."

He shrugged. "It's pretty new. She's from Kenya. Tall, gorgeous, the whole thing." Xander shrugged self-deprecatingly. "I'm still trying to figure out what she sees in me."

The Slayer's serious look was lightened by the smile in her eyes. "Probably the same thing I'm seeing right now."

Xander reached across the table to grab her hand affectionately. "Thanks, Buffy. It's just—I still miss her, you know? Every day. So when you get a second chance with somebody, you can't waste it. I get that now." Xander—whom Buffy had thought would be the boy that never grew up—suddenly looked much older than his twenty-odd years. "I get a lot of things now."

"Me too," Buffy murmured, and their eyes met in shared grief. "Me too."

~~~~~

Spike woke to find Buffy already gone, her spot on the bed cold. Pulling a shirt over his head, he wandered downstairs, thinking mostly of his Slayer and a cup of tea. It had been a long time since Spike had allowed himself to think of Buffy as "his" Slayer, but the idea was creeping back into his head.

He'd never expected this degree of comfort with her; he hadn't been sure what to expect, actually, but he was fairly certain that this scenario—them sharing a bed, her being this happy to see him—had never entered into even his wildest dreams.

Buffy and Xander were talking in the kitchen when he entered. Harris rose immediately with his own mug, giving Spike a half smile as he left the kitchen. "Think I'll go take a shower," he commented.

Spike saw the look on Buffy's face and frowned. "You okay, luv?"

"I'm fine," she replied, immediately regretting her dismissal of his concerns when his expression closed. "We were just talking about Angel."

Spike was immediately sorry he'd asked. "Oh, right."

"Just because I'm sorry he's dead doesn't mean I'm still in love with him, Spike," Buffy said, a trace of impatience in her voice.

He rolled his eyes in turn. "I know that, Slayer. 's just—'m sorry I had to be the one to bring the news, yeah?"

"I'm not," Buffy replied quickly. "I mean, I'm sorry about the news, but I'm not sorry you were the one to bring it." She gave him a look. "You are staying, aren't you? Not right here, of course, but you'll think about staying with me?"

"You sure you want me to?" Spike asked in reply.

She just gave him a look. "Duh."

Spike chuckled. "Got it. Yeah, Buffy, think I might want to stay after all."

Their eyes met and a certain unspoken understanding passed between them. "We could get our own place," Buffy suggested. "If you want."

"You don't think we're moving too fast, do you?" Spike asked, mock concern on his face.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "If it were anyone but us, yes. I think living together is the logical next step, though, and it's not like you've got a better offer."

"That's for sure." The good humor evaporated from his face, and Buffy could have kicked herself. "Don't have much, luv."

"Then you can mooch off me for a while," she said steadily. "I really don't care, Spike. It's not like I don't have money now that the Council is actually paying me—really well, I might add."

He shrugged. "'s just—dunno, Buffy. Feel like I've been driftin' pretty aimlessly these last months. Not sure where I'm goin' from here."

"So how did you manage to get the money for a round trip ticket?" Buffy asked. Dawn had told her about the ticket and where it was located. The Slayer figured that if worst came to worst she could steal it to prevent Spike from leaving.

Whatever she might have said, Buffy did not plan on letting Spike out of her sight.

He shrugged, looking down at the grain of the table as though it would tell his fortune. "Did some work for different blokes, mostly dangerous. Fenced other stuff."

It was something of an understatement to say that his earning methods had been both dangerous and shady. There had been some petty thievery involved, as well as quite a bit of gambling and some prize fights. He'd had the advantage of appearing to be human, which meant most underestimated him. Unfortunately, that meant they got pretty nasty when they realized they'd been had.

There had been at least two times that Spike had escaped from an angry mob of demons by the skin of his teeth. It hadn't been pleasant.

Of the things he took from the AI gang's apartments, Spike had kept a few small items for remembrance—a small, stuffed rabbit from Fred, one of Wesley's well-worn first editions, one of Gunn's big-ass knives. And one small picture he'd found in a box deep within the bowels of the Hyperion—Angel and Cordy with their heads together over a baby.

It had been after he'd found the picture that Spike had gone to look for Connor. It was a few weeks after the big battle, and Spike had begun to think the Senior Partners weren't going to send anyone after him. As soon as Connor had seen him walking up, he'd known.

The conversation had been quick and painful. Spike had described the battle, and Connor had nodded once, twice, and then had surreptitiously wiped a hand over his face. There had been a few other pictures, which Spike had offered to Connor.

The boy had taken them, thanked him gravely for coming, and then turned to leave, stopping only briefly to ask, "Weren't you a vampire?"

Since they'd been standing outside in the bright sunshine, Spike couldn't blame Connor for his confusion. "I was. 'm sorry."

They both knew that Spike was apologizing for being the one to survive, for being the one to become human. For the fact that Connor and his father would never get that second chance that they had deserved. It was the way of things sometimes.

Spike had had every intention of returning to L.A. when he'd left for Rome, so he'd hidden the small collection of keepsakes in a box in the basement of the old hotel. With any luck, they would remain undisturbed until he had the chance to retrieve it.

Not knowing how else to do it, Spike had written a letter to Fred's parents, knowing that they wouldn't understand about her transformation into Illyria, but that there was little chance they'd ever see their daughter again. He'd found their address and a half-written letter in Wesley's apartment and had used that as his template.

After the incident with the cyborg, Spike somehow doubted that he needed to bother doing the same for Wesley's parents, and Gunn didn't have a family.

In the end, the only people left to inform were Buffy and the rest of them. Over the course of things, Spike realized that there were few things he disliked more than delivering bad news.

He didn't tell Buffy any of this, however. It was still too new, too fresh; there had been so many losses in such a short time that Spike had no idea how to handle it. So much heartbreak, so much fear, so much—as Buffy had called it—survivor's guilt. Sitting here at Giles' kitchen table with Buffy, with her holding onto him like she'd never let him go, the pain was easier to bear. That didn't mean it was easy.

Buffy watched as Spike went somewhere, his eyes looking off into the distance at something invisible to her own eyes. She squeezed his hand, offering what comfort she could. It was all she really had to offer.

Buffy knew from her own experience that time was the only possible remedy for grief, and even then it was a poor solution. She could feed him and buy him new clothes and just be there—but it wouldn't touch the losses he'd seen. After all, she'd had her own losses to grieve over.

Spike shook himself out of his thoughts, glancing over to smile at Buffy. "Sorry, luv. I'll tell you one of these days."

"Whenever," she replied, managing to sound breezy and unconcerned. "Got any big plans for today?"

He looked thoughtful. "Dunno. Is someone cookin' Christmas dinner?"

"Willow and her friend, Aiden, are cooking. Aiden told her he'd treat us to a real Christmas meal, since none of us really can cook."

Spike frowned, trying to figure out if he'd heard that name somewhere before. "Aiden?"

"One of the witches in the coven," Buffy replied, then looked puzzled. "Or is it warlock? I never can remember if that's the PC term for a male witch or not." At Spike's expression, Buffy grinned. "Didn't anybody tell you? Willow's thinking about dating him. You should see him. He's gorgeous and absolutely perfect for her. We're just happy it's not Kennedy."

Spike's puzzled look changed to one of distaste. "That bint was a bit much."

"You said it, I didn't," Buffy replied, all the while heartily agreeing. No one had been terribly surprised when Willow had called to let them know that she and Kennedy had broken up. Or when she had asked for a transfer to England in order to study and help the coven for a while. Giles had granted her request for relocation without making any comments, and it wasn't long before remarks about a certain witch of the male persuasion became rather frequent. "Anyway, they've been moving in that direction for a couple months. We're all just waiting for Wills to make the big announcement."

When he didn't say anything else, Buffy reached over to touch his face. "What were you thinking?"

Spike looked sheepish, and then shrugged. It was his little-boy face that melted Buffy right into a puddle. They hadn't done the major sex scene yet, but Buffy had thought to give him a little time to settle in before she jumped his bones.

In fact, she'd thought perhaps that Spike might consent to be her Christmas present.

"Uh, thought 'bout goin' to a Christmas Eve service." Spike got a far-away look in his eyes again, but this time it was less sad and more nostalgic. "Haven't done that since I was turned. Went with my mum that last Christmas. 's sort of a tradition, you know."

Buffy smiled. She remembered going to the Christmas services at church a few times. Her mom was a sporadic attendee at best, but she'd always liked going and singing the carols as a child. After the move to Sunnydale—well, after Buffy had become the Slayer—they had somehow never managed to make it. There was always patrol to do, crises to avert. "Okay," she agreed. "I'll go with, if you want."

Spike smiled gratefully, glad that she seemed to understand. "I'd like that, pet."

~~~~~

The day was spent pleasantly enough with Xander, Willow, and Dawn, along with Aiden. Giles made an appearance later in the afternoon. The chief Watcher was a bit stiff with everyone until he realized no one was going to act on grudges held, whatever their private thoughts might involve.

Aiden had shown up about the same time with both the necessary ingredients for dinner and a couple of young Slayers in tow. The girls hadn't been able to make it home for the holidays, and so had been invited to spend Christmas with Giles and the rest.

The day itself had a cheerfully chaotic feel to it. Aiden quickly put Spike and Xander to work once he determined that they could both be trusted with some of the cooking. There wasn't much room in Giles' kitchen, and so, in a role reversal of sorts, it was Aiden, Xander and Spike who prepared dinner while the girls trimmed Giles' tree and put up other decorations.

Almost in spite of himself, Spike began to get that happy feeling that comes from being surrounded by people you like and who like you in return. Not that he was all that fond of everyone. Giles certainly wasn't making his list of favorite people these days. But wasn't that what being around family was all about? There were always relatives you couldn't stand, people you could only handle being around for three days out of every year.

Spike personally believed that's why Christmas only came once a year, because no one wanted to be around their entire family for much more than that.

Even so, Aiden turned out to be a genuinely nice bloke, and a good cook. Xander mostly chopped vegetables and entertained them with tales of Africa, including the story of a week-long trek out into the bush with his girlfriend. (It was probably not a tale to be told in mixed company, but the guys enjoyed it.)

They all ate together in the living room, in scattered groups on furniture and floor. Dawn and the two Slayers, Monica and Sam, were discussing the relative charms of Prince William and Johnny Depp. Aiden and Willow were deep in conversation over some of the doings of the coven, with Giles occasionally chipping in.

"You should have invited your girlfriend, Xander," Buffy said as he came over to sit next to her and Spike. It was obvious from the look on his face that he felt as though he was playing the third wheel.

Xander shrugged. "I didn't realize it was a 'bring your date' kind of thing."

"Sorry, mate," Spike said. "I kind of got dragged along by the Bit. Started out in Rome, an' she swore up an' down that Buffy would kill her for leavin' me there."

Xander looked surprised. "I didn't mean you, Spike. I mean, you're one of us. Not that I was expecting you, but..."

The tips of Spike's ears turned pink with pleasure, much to Buffy's amusement. "Thanks," he muttered.

Xander did the guy thing and completely ignored Spike's embarrassment. "Well, I figure once you die to save the world, you're pretty much in. Actually, that puts you and Buffy in a category all your own."

"Pretty much," Buffy agreed, enjoying Spike's discomfiture. "I guess that means we're perfect for each other."

At that point, a sly grin crossed the ex-vampire's face, bordering on a smirk. It was so reminiscent of the old Spike that Buffy wanted to jump for joy. "Never thought I'd hear you admit I was right."

She glared. "You never—" There was a long pause as Buffy realized that Spike had indeed tried to convince her of just that on numerous occasions. "Well, okay maybe you did, but—" She sighed and broke off. "Fine. You were right."

Both men grinned—Spike because Buffy had finally admitted he was right about something and Xander because he was feeling a moment of male solidarity. Xander himself hadn't had many chances to hear those particular words from any of his girlfriends, but he remembered each and every occasion with pleasure. "Careful, Spike. She'll probably make you regret it later."

"Xander!" Buffy protested. "I am not that much of a bitch!"

There was a moment of silence where the implications of that statement were taken into consideration. Spike considered a number of remarks and discarded all of them, not wanting to jeapordize the easy camaraderie they'd just found. Xander didn't have any qualms at all, however. "No, probably not that much of one," he said cheerfully.

Buffy shrieked her annoyance and mock-slapped him. Xander pretended to be hurt, all the while grinning madly. Spike just watched, for once feeling very much a part of things.

~~~~~

Spike took the black scarf Buffy was holding out to him with an eye-roll. "It's not that cold outside, luv."

"Maybe not, but the temperature could drop," she pointed out reasonably. "And you can't argue that you don't feel the cold anymore either."

Buffy fussing over him was too nice to argue about, so Spike wrapped the scarf around his neck, shrugging into his duster. Dawn's voice stopped them as they were about to head out the door. Dinner had been held late enough that they'd decided to go to the midnight service. They hadn't invited anyone else, wanting to spend the time alone.

"Hey," Dawn said breathlessly. "I wanted to catch you before you left, Spike."

He smiled at her. "What's up, Bit?"

Dawn held out an envelope. "Well, I didn't really have any time to get you a Christmas gift, but I wanted to get you something, you know? Anyway, I just thought that maybe you could open it now, while it's just us. Tomorrow is going to be crazy, and it's almost Christmas anyway."

Spike hadn't given much thought to presents, and he took Dawn's gift with some hesitation. While he didn't have a lot of money, he would have liked to get something for his girls, but that just wasn't going to be possible at this late date.

He ran his finger under the flap and pulled out the piece of paper inside. Reading silently, Spike looked up at the girl, silently asking if she was really serious. At her nod, he looked back down at the slip of paper that read: Good for an honorary membership in the Summers family. Includes room and board as necessary and unlimited hot chocolate with marshmallows.

Spike had to blink away the tears in his eyes. Dawn threw her arms around him before he could do much else, and he found himself holding her tightly. "Ta, Sweet Bit."

"I mean it," Dawn said fiercely. "I never want you to think we don't want you around again."

Pulling back slightly, Spike met her blue eyes with his own. "Right. Absolutely. Wouldn't dream of stayin' away now. Not when I can get hot chocolate any time."

The girl released him as quickly as she'd grabbed hold. "You guys better get going. You're going to be late." Then, with an impish grin, Dawn ordered, "And don't you dare be too noisy tonight. You'll give Giles a heart attack."

~~~~~

Buffy had never really given religion much thought. She had fought evil day in and day out with her own hands—and sometimes a weapon—and never saw any indication that there was a God. And if there was one, Buffy wanted to have some words with him about the state of things. She really thought he might have done a better job ordering the universe.

This Christmas, however, Buffy didn't have a lot of complaints, not with Spike's warm hand secure in her own. Looking around the sanctuary, she could see old people and young children, couples and families and men and women standing alone. They were all singing about peace on earth, and the expressions on their faces suggested that they believed it might actually be possible. They were all there because in some way it meant something to them to stand with family in a midnight service.

Perhaps, like Spike, it was tradition, some tie to a past they'd lost. Or maybe, like for her, it was something new, meant to mark a new beginning.

So as they sang about peace and hope and love, Buffy found herself glad for the first time in a while that she was one of the people that was actually working towards that goal. The Slayer's job was a dangerous and dirty one, oftentimes, but it was necessary, vital. She could honestly say that she made the world a better place to live. Even though she'd been taking a break from that life, it was time to pick up her stake again.

As Spike had once said, for Christmas and puppies and all that.

In some way, Buffy would be heading back out into battle in Spike's stead, so he could rest for a time.

She leaned against Spike, laying her head against his shoulder. His smoky voice filled her ears, and Buffy was content to listen to the words of the unfamiliar carol. "All my heart this night rejoices, as I hear far and near, sweetest angel voices..."

Spike wrapped an arm around Buffy as she leaned up against him. Hearing the familiar liturgy, singing the songs he'd sung so many years ago, it felt like a refuge. For a moment at least he could almost believe again—believe that all might be right in the world. For a moment he could recapture a bit of the man he had been so long ago, the best bit, the belief that people were generally kind and that life could be sweet.

Hope had been reborn in him from the ashes of his grief. As he let the homily wash over him, Spike remembered a poem he'd heard once:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all

He never could remember the rest of it, but he'd thought he left hope behind in that alley behind the Hyperion. And yet it seemed as though it were only waiting till the right moment to begin singing again.

The vicar spoke the benediction, releasing them out into the night air, now awash with snowflakes. They both stopped outside the church on the street, lifting their faces to the heavens, watching as the snow came down.

It wet their faces, melting on warm skin, streaming down like tears. Buffy looked at Spike, and thought he was crying. "Spike? Are you okay?"

He met her eyes with a smile, and it was the same sort of smile he'd worn in that cavern in the Hellmouth, his soul streaming out of him in great beams of life. It was the smile of a man who finally knew his purpose in the world: equal parts hope and peace and joy and love.

And, as it had been then, so was it now. Buffy found that she could not hold the words back, nor did she want to. "I love you, Spike."

The smile changed into a grin, and he laughed—the laughter of a child who has just received the perfect Christmas gift. "I know." Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth, leaving her hanging for a moment. "I love you too, Buffy."

Standing in the falling snow on a London street, they kissed. Spike's lips were as cold as they had ever been, but that was from the chilly air. His tongue was warm as he tasted her, and she drank him in hungrily.

It was both old and new. It was perfect—and it was only a whisper of things to come. For once in his long life, Spike really believed that it could only get better.

It was going to be a very merry Christmas indeed.

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