Title: Champion
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Spike/Buffy
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: In which Spike finally gets to feel like a Champion.
Word Count: 1,583
Written For: Fan FlashWorks Challenge 477. Amnesty: 434. Precious
Date Written: 29 April 2025
Warnings: Post-Series
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.






She was sleeping peacefully for a change when he slipped into her bedroom, after having checked on the Nibblet. Their lives as of late had been as chaotic as ever, but at least he was back with them now. At least he could help, for whatever good he might be. He'd sat with Dawn until the kid had finally passed out from sheer exhaustion. All of their gang had slept so little, nightmares and worry both manmade and Supernatural-based had been plaguing them all for so many years.

It was a wonder the girls didn't both wake up screaming nightly. It was only on rare occasion when the Nibblet did so, but Buffy -- His poor pet barely slept. She'd always been so strong, from the very first moment he'd met her, and her strength continued to amaze him. Her strength and her belief were both astonishing. He'd never known a woman with such depths of either, let alone both. But despite everything they'd all endured, she continued to think the best of every one of their little gang, or family as some of them referred to them. She even still, these nights, thought the best of him.

Sinking onto his knees beside her bed, oblivious to his own exhaustion, Spike gently ran his pale, long fingers over her blonde hair. She kept it tied in a bun most of the time these nights, out of her way and off of her neck and always showing a tantalizingly tempting view. But he'd never bite her. He'd never hurt this woman again, if only she allowed him to stay close!

She whimpered in her sleep. His heart, despite its deadness and lack of beating, still seemed to tug at the sound. "It's okay, precious," he whispered tenderly. "Nibblet's safe. Everybody's safe. Everybody is asleep. You can sleep. I'll keep watch. Like in the old days."

His mouth twitched, and he felt a strange surge of tears. He wasn't necessarily unhappy, but he was moved to almost crying. Almost. He ignored the sniffle that escaped him. He was strong. He wasn't as strong as she was, but he was still strong. Had he not proved that when he'd battled his way to a soul and then fought his way back to her? Had he not proved that, going into battle time after time beside her? Had he not proved that when he sacrificed his life, not for the world as she always liked to proclaim, but for her?

He'd die for her a thousand times over. Exploding had hurt. It had bloody hurt like almost nothing he'd ever experienced before -- but getting his soul back had actually hurt more. Losing her, knowing she'd never choose him -- now that had hurt the bloody most. But she had chosen him in the end, hadn't she? He was the one with her now, the one she allowed in her bed every night. It didn't have to be about the sex, although the sex was great of course. He was happy just to hold her, to be with her, to console her when she needed consoling, hold her tight when she just needed someone or something to rail against, even to let her beat him... But she didn't do that anymore, hadn't done it since old Sunnydale.

Angel had called him a pansy when he'd overheard them arguing about the old days -- a pansy and a bunch of other names that didn't bear repeating. Spike would've made him eat his tongue, except of course, Buffy would let him. She had called him out, and yeah, he thought, a smirk lighting his features, he supposed she'd made it bloody well clear that she had chosen him after all this time. He was her chosen, he thought with pride, beginning to outright beam. She had made it clear. He was the one who doubted himself. She didn't, not anymore. And had she not also met him when she saw him with the best bloody kiss of his life? Right in front of Angel too. That had to have burned his grandsire; neither of them had seen him since.

She murmured again, and for just a moment, his heart caught with fear. Was she calling for Angel? But no, it was his name she was murmuring, Spike realized when she spoke again. She was calling for him. "I'm here, precious. I'm right here." And she was precious! Oh, how precious this woman has become to him over their decades together! It had taken him well over a hundred years to finally find the girl of his dreams, but she was here, laying right here in this bed, and she chose to spend her days and nights, every moment, they could with him.

She'd asked him, once, if he'd ever regretted earning his soul back. He'd flat out refused, without a second's thought, because without his soul, he was and could be nothing more than a monster. Without his soul, he could never begin to be worthy to even be a friend to her, let alone more. But what she hadn't asked him was if he'd ever regretted being a Vampire in the first place. He'd done so much wrong, killed so many -- but in the end, the wicked and vile path had led him to her. In the end, he had found the woman he loved, and who seemed perhaps, just maybe, to love him in return. She'd never existed in his time; she never would have. It had taken every bit of everything he'd endured over his century plus as a Vamp to find his way to her.

His mother had once tried to tell him there was a God looking out over them all. Drusilla had believed as well at one time, having even been set to join the nunnery the very day after she was turned. He knew more than most how well Dru remembered those times, but of course, she'd stopped believing. Angelus' father had been a Preacher.

Spike himself had never quite believed, but now -- now, on his knees next to the woman he'd sacrificed literally everything for over the years, hearing her call his name -- he has to admit that every sacrifice he has made, every tragedy they have both endured, has led them together. Has led him to her.

"I'm here, pet," he whispers again, only realizes he's talking once more when he hears his voice. One hand strokes her trembling back, the other her golden hair. "I'm here."

She stirs, his soothing voice drawing her closer to consciousness. "Spike?" she breathes shakily, then bolts up. He pulls back, uncertain if she's about to start yelling at him, afraid yet again she might be repulsed him once more. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Spike, I dreamed -- "

She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could through their clothes. The thought of disrobing, getting the nuisances of their attire out of their way, did not even enter his mind. Instead, all he could think was to hold her, rock her, and let her speak. Her words came in great gasps as she struggled between her intense tears. At last, he understood -- she had dreamed of him, of him dying again, and this was her reaction.

He pulled her closer, tight against his chest. "I'm here," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I'm here, and I'm not bloody well going anywhere ever again unless you make me." If she sent him away, he would go. He'd promised them both that long ago.

But she wasn't about to let him go, much less send him away. Her fingers curled in his black T-shirt, her fingernails almost grazing his skin beneath. "Don't -- " she cried before she could stop herself. "Don't ever leave me again!"

He pulled away just enough that he could cup her beautiful face in his hands and gaze into those eyes he loved so much. "I'm never leaving you again, pet, unless you send me away," he vowed sternly.

"I won't! Never again!" She was gasping again, breathing hard and still crying. He started to pull her close, but she beat him to it, wrapping herself around him once more as close and as tight as she could get. "I love you," she murmured into his shirt, but he heard her words.

He heard her words, and his heart, dead as it was, soared with wings far greater than anything he'd ever had in life. Now he did feel like a Champion! Not because he'd saved the world, not because he'd beaten Angel, not because he'd turned away from the darkness and the blood and the killing, not because he'd fought unlike any other Vampire ever to actually regain his soul on purpose -- but because she loved him. He was a Champion, because the most powerful, the most precious, the most beautiful, the most wonderful he'd ever known and would ever know loved him!

This is why he had endured so much over his hundred plus years of living. This was what made every scorn, every hurtful thought and comment, every blow, every death so very worth enduring. She was! But he didn't shout though he felt like it. If he did, he'd wake up everybody in the house. Instead, he rocked her, he kissed her, and he vowed, "I love you too, pet. Always."



The End