"If he's not the guy, if what he needs from you just isn't there," he shook his head ruefully. "Then let him go. Break his heart, and make it a clean break. But if you really think you can love this guy ... I'm talking scary, messy, no-emotions-barred need ... if you're ready for that ... then think about what you're about to lose." 

Xander gave her a lopsided smile.  He needed for Buffy and Riley to work out; it was the first time she had been in a relationship with someone of the not undead variety, and he liked it like that. He had no inkling about how controlling he was being; all he wanted was for Buffy to date someone normal.  Someone like him.

His words had the desired effect. Buffy looked up with tears in her eyes.  Gone was the determined Slayer and its place was the scared girl, one terrified of being alone. "Xander?"  Her voice wobbled.

"Run."

And Buffy did. She barrelled out of the factory and headed down the alley, her pounding feet disturbing the piles of dust that were all that were left of her vampiric attackers.

~~~~~~~~~

She ran. 

Her heart thundering in time with her feet. 

All her focus on getting to him, to making him stay. So she’d be normal -- safe.

"Don't."  A pale hand snapped out and wrapped around her arm, the gentle cool touch stopping her. The disembodied voice was so familiar that its hushed request stalled her in her tracks. All thoughts of getting to Riley fled from her frazzled mind. Buffy stood there her slender wrist held gently in a firm cool grip as she tried to get her breath back from her mad rush.

"So the Slayer's got her knickers in a twist over Soldier boy? Would've thought that you'd given him the heave ho after seeing him being a nummy treat for any old slag with fangs" Spike's cockney accent broke the silence of the night air.

He'd watched her all night, a silent observer in the alley as she'd staked the cadre of vampires from the whorehouse he'd taken her too earlier to witness the Hall Monitor's downfall. Instead of the glee he had been expecting to feel, Spike had been surprised by the guilt rumbling around inside him at the expression of anguish on the Slayer's face.

All he'd wanted was to get the two of them separated. He had succeeded, but at what price?

The Slayer stared up at him, her hazel eyes large in her face and luminous with unshed tears.

"Cat got your tongue, love?" Spike deliberately emphasised the last word, knowing she wouldn't register the way he had uttered the endearment. She so was used to him saying luv, that he doubted the Slayer would pick up on it, he was secretly delighting in being able to use it, if only for himself. Ever since the dream it had been his only way of expressing his feelings to her.

To Buffy, his Slayer.

"I have to go...Riley...I need to stop him." Buffy stumbled as she yanked her arm away from Spike's cool firm grasp. She turned on her heel and was about to go when his quiet words reached her.

"You deserve better than him and wot he's doing to you s'not right, love." Spike stared down at his hand, his palm still tingling from the contact with her arm. He rocked back on his heels and glanced up at her back. His other hand pressed against the bandaged wound over his heart, the running and grabbing had re-opened the wound and it was starting to bleed again.

Something inside Buffy clicked with Spike's comment.

Until Xander had come and found her, she had been sure that Riley's ultimatum had been unfair and so very wrong. She had been positive that she had reacted to it and him in the right way.

But then Xander had started talking and talking at her, filling her with doubt over her decision. Buffy wondered why he'd pushed her at Riley. Even though he didn't know the full story, hadn’t even asked about the Vamperialla sucking on her 'normal' boyfriend's arm. God knows what else she'd chewed on. Buffy wrinkled her nose at the thought of fang marks in all the wrong places. Even when she'd told Xander about Riley's biting fetish he hadn't stopped with the 'go after him Buffy, why are you begging him to stay? Run after him' comments. So she had, even though it hadn't made real sense to her.

Xander hadn't even asked why she'd kicked Riley to the curb; she'd had to tell him. Why was that?

She'd given Riley her heart, body and soul, and in return he acted all hurt and wounded, saying that he hadn't felt that she had. Buffy gritted her teeth at the memories and tried to remember why she was chasing after Riley. Oh right, cos Xander said she should.  But why?

Spike stood watching the play of thoughts over his Slayer's face. He'd been following around after her all night, worried for her and feeling more than a little guilty.  It was an alien feeling, but there it was niggling away at him.

Spike knew he'd done wrong by her, showing her the vamp whorehouse and its latest client, but the Slayer had to know the risk she was taking with letting Soldier boy stay in her life. He mentally smacked himself for allowing his personal agenda to hurt the girl, but stubbornly reminded himself he was evil.

"What do you mean, Spike?" she sighed.

"Heard what the Soldier boy said to you.  Did a bit of a number on you, didn't he?" Spike took a small step backwards. He was aware that one of the top ten no-no's on the Slayer's list was snooping around her business, and that was followed right after with don't put down her friends.

Both of which he was about to admit to and do-- he'd been staked once already tonight and didn't feel like it again. And he knew with Buffy that the stake wasn't some plastic shite but the real thing and  would end up with his ashes blowing in the wind. But he wasn’t a coward, as Byron had said once, publish and be damned. He was already damned but he would tell her the unadulterated truth, even if it killed him.

Buffy's throat dried up; Spike had heard Riley. It was bad enough that the peroxide pest had been the one to show her Riley's new kink, but to hear his unfair ultimatum. Buffy's heart skipped a beat, ‘yeah, unfair, what the hell was she doing chasing after him?' Her heart skipped a few more beats and then started pounding again.

Spike cocked his head at the sound of her heart beating all over the place and for a panicked moment wondered if she was going to have a heart attack. His face tightened into a worried look. .

"What do you mean?" Buffy whispered.

"Whelp, telling you to go after the nit." Spike bit his tongue and managed not to point out the gaping wound in his chest courtesy of said nit.

Buffy looked down and a single tear managed to escape and trail down her flushed cold cheek.  "But I have to stop Riley from going," she explained, her words sounding lame even to her.

"Why? Cos the Whelp says so?" Spike's free hand hovered at her shoulder, unsure as to whether or not to allow himself contact.

"Don't call h...him that and well, yeah." She stumbled over her words, automatically leaping to Riley’s defence and then realising she didn’t have to anymore.

"So the Whelp thinks that you running after the hulking arse, begging him to stay, is the way to go?" Spike asked incredulously. He had heard the boy's conversation with the Slayer and it had only been the twinge in his noggin that reminded him he was chipped. It had prevented him from launching himself at Puffy Boy and ripping out his venomous tongue and strangling him with it. Spike was still stunned that the Slayer considered Harris a mate.

"Riley's never held back from me.  He's the one that only comes along once in a girl's lifetime," Buffy echoed Xander's words to Spike, thinking that if she repeated them they might become more believable.

The look of utter disbelief on the vampire's face made her falter and flush red.

"Pull the other one, Slayer.  It's got bells on it." Spike waited a beat before stepping towards her, this time letting his hand drop down onto her shoulder. Inwardly he was singing at the feel of her body under his fingers. “Never held back?  Wot about…oh, let’s say that he was in the Initiative? Held out on you there, didn’t he? Umm…oh I know, what about how he likes getting bitten by vamp whores? Held out on you there too. Love please, for Christ’s sake don’t do what your friends want you to do, do what you want. Follow your gut instincts.  You do when you’re patrolling and they’ve never let you down before, have they?” Spike closed his eyes and let his arms hang loose at his sides and waited for Mr Pointy to become acquainted with his heart.

"Spike, don't," Buffy cautioned. She hated it when he was all with the home truths. One thing about Spike that she had to give him credit for was that he saw to the heart of the matter and wasn't backwards about coming forwards in telling her when she was wrong. His perceptiveness was something that she had learned to accept, harsh truths and all. She still hadn't really forgiven him for the whole 'lets play the Scoobies against each other' incident with Adam.

"Don't what? Wonder what the bloody hell you're up to? Stop trying to understand why you're running after the git who is in the wrong?" Spike replied bluntly. Closing his eyes again he braced himself and waited for the punch to the nose, and waited and waited.   Cautiously opening one eye, Spike peered at her still form.

"He was wrong," she echoed, almost as if she were trying the realisation on for size and liking it's fit.

Spike nodded. "Well yeah, what if he got turned or some such nonsense?"

"Oh."  Buffy's nose wrinkled as she considered the idea of Riley all fangy—not a pretty image.

"Slayer, you were right to tell him to piss off.  Giving you an ultimatum-- m'off ‘cause you’ve got the balls to question what the bleeding hell I’m doing, unless you want to stop me." Spike rolled his eyes at that. "Seriously love, that someone you want ‘round? And before you answer that, bugger the whelp and his ‘ohhh run after him’! He's the one. Silly sod's only living vicariously through Soldier Boy.  He sees himself in the git and if you're shagging him then you're giving the whelp a happy." Spike had winced at the Americanism but took an unneeded breath and continued, hoping that his words would undo the damage that Dough Boy had done.  "The boy's wrong, love.  Go with your instincts, they won't steer you wrong.  Never have done in the past, have they," he urged again.

"Why are you holding your chest?"

"Eh?" Spike frowned at the Slayer.  Maybe her brain had melted under the pressure.  How had she gone from running after her boy to asking about his own hand positions?

Before he could stop her, the Slayer had pulled his bloodstained hand away from his chest.

Her mouth forming a perfect O in surprise. "What happened?" she demanded as she pushed his T-Shirt up, trying to find the wound.

Spike batted her hands away, wincing slightly as his chip reacted to his actions. "S'nothing," he added unnecessarily, not wanting her to find out about the plastic stake he'd taken to the heart. Spike was still numb from the horror evoked by the sensation and the sight of a stake piercing his heart; the Soldier boy was a sick fuck playing with him like that.

"Spike, don't make me punch you on the nose," Buffy warned and without any other discussion, she ripped the black cotton, tearing it apart and revealing his muscled chest to her rather surprised eyes.

"As if I could stop you," Spike muttered and pulled the torn edges of his shirt over his chest, resisting the urge to scream like a maiden aunt at the slayer for baring his chest to the world.  He didn't mind flashing the Slayer but he didn't want to advertise his injuries to the demon world. They’d be after him in a shot.

Buffy slapped his hands away and ran her fingers around the edges of the blood soaked dressing. "What happened?" All thoughts of Riley were gone at the sight of the crimson blood soaked bandage.  He'd nearly been dusted. She couldn’t lose him; not Spike.  He was always there in the corner of her mind, calling her on everything and bugging the hell out of her. Her own personal Jimmy Cricket. Okay, one with a peroxide addiction and fangs, but he was always there in her face with the home truths.

Before he could answer there was a whirl of helicopter blades overhead, rustling the leaves in the trees that surrounded them. Both the blonds glanced up at the black underbelly of the Helicopter, their superior sight allowing them to catch a glimpse of Riley's sulky moon face. 

"Think you've missed him.  Sorry love." Spike placed a tentative hand over hers, pressing it down against his chest, an apologetic look on his face despite the inner cheers of ‘ding-dong the nit's gone’.

"Thank you, Spike," Buffy whispered. Part of her was amazed that she was thanking the vamp, but Joyce Summers hadn't raised a fool. Spike had saved her from making a big mistake and he deserved the gratitude.

Confusion coloured his pale blue eyes. "What for?" She’d never thanked him before and he had no idea what for this time.  Was it for showing her Riley's new fangy friends or for talking to her now, or was it because he was a damn find specimen of a vamp? he added cheekily.

"Stopping me from making a big mistake," Buffy explained as she continued to rub his chest, her hand feeling safe under his. Her eyes were riveted to the pale sculpted skin, unwilling to look up into his all too perceptive eyes. As soon as he'd started talking she had realised that running after Riley had been wrong, and in a way she was relieved that Spike had been there to stop her.

"You're welcome?" Spike’s voice rose questioningly at the end.  He was surprised that she'd thanked him – no.  That was an understatement.  He was stunned and in shock over the Slayer's freely offered gratitude. She usually kicked him in the head and then left in a flurry of righteous fury. Instead this time she stood with her hand over his still heart, looking up at him with those glistening beautiful eyes of hers and thanking him. The Slayer was thanking him, William the Bloody, one quarter of the Scourge of Europe and a vampire. 'Guess Satan's got himself a nice pair of skates on. Wonder if he was doing any of those nifty spinning jumps…’

"Let’s get you home, love." Spike reluctantly pulled her hand from his chest.  He wrapped his duster around himself and then with a smirk offered his arm to her. Buffy took it without hesitation.

"Home would be good," she agreed and they walked off into the night. 

*********

Buffy pushed open her front door and reluctantly let go of Spike's arm. She had never in her life imagined walking arm in arm with Spike, but once they'd started home it had felt really good. So she hadn't pulled away.  'Who'd a thunk Spike'd make me feel good?'  She’d deliberately veered away from the memories of Willow 's 'will be done' spell and how good the blond vampire had made her feel then.

"Right...best be off then." Spike ducked his head and turned to go.

Buffy's thin hand whipped out and caught hold of the collar of his duster. "Get in here, Spike."  She pulled him into the silent house without another word.

Buffy moved around the kitchen gathering up the first aid kit.  She was reminded of a time when Angel had been standing where Spike was now, stripped to the waist as well and waiting for her to dress his wounds.Only this time the vampire she was nursing was bouncing on his feet and fiddling with the mug of warmed blood she had pressed into his hands, not standing there all broody and silent.  Instead, he jabbered away about anything and everything, filling the air with comforting noise. At the quirk of his brow in silent query to the presence of blood in the Summers’ house, she had simply indicated her Mom and Spike had nodded in understanding.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Buffy peeled away the dirty dressing and started to clean the wound with the soft wadding she had pulled out of the kit.

"Someone wanted to make a point." Spike sipped at his blood with a wicked twinkle in his eye. Never had he dreamed that he would be standing here in her kitchen, drinking blood her mum had gotten for him and being cosseted by the Slayer. All of which added up to his impish behaviour.

"Leave the puns to me, Spike." Buffy rolled her eyes at the smirking menace that was bouncing around her kitchen like a kid with a sugar rush high.

She feathered her fingers around the healing wound with a gentleness that was alien to him. Usually the hands that were tending to him were punching the unliving daylights out of him. But this was much nicer.

"Right." Spike drained the last of the blood from his mug then stuck his finger in and swiped it around, gathering the congealed remains on his finger and sucked it off with relish. "Hit the spot that did.  Thank yer Mum for me. When she gets up."

Buffy ducked her head, trying to hide the sheen of tears that gathered in her eyes. She reached for a new dressing and taped it on with practised hands. All her years slaying had taught her how to dress her injuries quickly and cleanly. Spike sensed the shift in her mood.  He pushed her chin up with his index finger, forcing her to make eye contact. "What's up?"

"Mom's staying over at the hospital.  She had the tumour out. Tha…that’s why she's not here."

'Bollocks.’ Spike closed his eyes.  No wonder she'd been so vulnerable to the whelp's suggestions. Her Mum was all sickly and then all the rubbish with Captain Cardboard. No wonder she'd scampered after him, she was desperate to cling onto something normal and safe.

"There, all done." Buffy patted the edges of the tape down and whirled away from Spike, only to be stopped in the same way that she had been before. With the curl of his cool fingers around her wrist.

"Didn't realise where your mum was, love.  Is she going to be okay?" Spike added. He knew that modern medicine worked wonders these days and he hoped that the slayer's mum would be back in the game.  Hell, he'd even let her crack him over the head with an axe in celebration if she wanted.

"She's good.  The doc said that they'd gotten all the tumour, so now we have to wait." Buffy packed away the kit and threw out the blood stained bandages, all the while avoiding Spike's eyes. She handed a large white t-shirt to him, “My dad’s, don’t worry, and it’s not Ri…you know his.”

He stared at her hunched shoulders and tried to block out the too bright happy voice she was putting on. 'Poor bloody Slayer. Mum's ill and I go and throw a spanner in the works with Cardboard and show her what's up.  No wonder she's in such a state...and there was also something up with the Niblet as well.' He'd picked up something odd there, but hadn't worked out what it was yet. 

Spike pulled the laundered shirt over his head and tried not to grimace at the colour.  The Slayer had given it to him and for that he would treasure it. There was a faint whiff of her perfume from the soft shirt; he guessed she wore it as a nightshirt. He sighed happily, something that had touched her soft skin, her breasts, was now on his body.

"Sorry, pet." Spike reached for his duster and began to slip it on, ready to make his exit.

Only to be stopped by her hand.  "Will you come and sit with me on the porch? Like we did the other night, when I found out..."

"Yeah," Spike interrupted her. Taking her hand he led her out into the mild Californian night and sat down on the top step of the porch. Buffy sat down next to him and rested her head against the porch rail.

"So who staked you?" She had a good idea who it had been, but wanted to hear it from the vamp's lips.

Spike sighed deeply and glanced over at the golden girl staring back at him. "Was your boy.  Thought I needed a lesson in minding my own business."

Buffy nodded her head and echoed his deep sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Don't pet, not right for a slayer to be apologising to the likes of me.  I’m beneath you-- a vampire."

Buffy frowned at Spike.  After tonight and everything that had been said and done -they were on a different footing now. Spike'd shown her what Riley had been up to in that slum, and had been subjected to a sick form of torture from Riley because of it. She was ashamed about what Riley had done to Spike and wondered how often in the past when he'd been at the Initiative he'd done the same to other vamps. Maybe he'd done worse stuff. “No you’re not, and Spike, I’m sorry for saying that.”

Spike’s eyes widened for a brief second, acknowledging her apology silently. Then he smirked, “Look…I’m tough, Angelus made sure of that. I can take m’lumps.” Spike fumbled in his duster pocket for a cigarette. He lit it and blew the smoke away from Buffy, tilting his hand as well to protect her from the smoke. 

Buffy noticed his actions and a small smile curved the corners of her lips.  He was a mix of cuteness, sometimes all Victorian morals mixed up with peroixided punk. She focused on his hands rather than the Angelus comment. Spike had stopped with the black nail varnish. When had he stopped with the chipped look? Buffy stared at his fingernails, a small frown furrowing her brow.  She watched as his long artistic fingers fidgeted with the cigarette and then realised he was watching her with a puzzled yet concerned look. “Sorry, I’m all zone out girl tonight.”  

“No worries, love.  Sometimes it’s nice just to sit.” Spike flicked the butt away and rested his chin in his hand. “Sorry bout bringing up the poof.”  

Buffy shrugged. “Seems to be a night for ‘lets talk about Buffy’s ex’s.’” She was weirdly not affected by the Angel mentionage or the Riley running away like a big scaredy cat. Spike was with her and she felt safe, happier than she had in a long time. And for once was not going to let it freak her out or deny it.  

Spike’s eyes narrowed in concern.  He cocked his head to one side and watched the slim girl next to him closely, waiting for the tears and tantrums.  

But there were none.

Not even a pouty lip. And that disappointed Spike.  He liked the pouty lip, it made his mouth water. Without realising, his lower lip began to stick out in disappointment. 

Buffy squinted at the silent vamp sitting next to her. ‘Was that a pout? The Big Bad pouts! Looked kinda cute on him.’ Buffy’s eyes widened.  That was the second time in the last few minutes she had associated the word cute with the Spike. Riley breakupage was seriously working a number on her. .

She leapt to her feet. “I…I really should go in now…It’s getting kinda cold, yeah that’s it, cold! Brrrrr.” Buffy hopped from one foot to the other and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She mentally slapped herself for the Pamela Anderson school of bad acting she was channelling. 

Buffy turned on her heel, but before she could take a step, something heavy and leathery dropped on her shoulders. She froze, and sniffed surreptitiously: cigarettes, beer, soap and something musky.  Oh yeah, Spike scent, all equalled his duster. 

Her thin fingers grasped the collar and pulled the butter soft leather closer. Buffy took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the smell of yum and then turned to face Spike. The question died on her lips at the sight of him standing behind her, hair ruffled, wearing her nightshirt and rocking on his heels.  

“Don’t go yet?”  

She nodded, her eyes wide as she let Spike sit on the step again. 

“Nice to just sit here and be,” Spike whispered, his hand dropping gently on her shoulder for a couple of seconds before pulling away. 

Buffy snuggled into his duster and to her surprise leant against his side. “It is.” 

She felt the whisper soft kiss he dropped on the top of her head, and contentment filled her. 

**********

Buffy snuggled closer to the hard chest that her face was mashed against with a happy sigh. She could feel his arms around her, cradling her close. She felt nice and warm and all with the snugly; it was good. She sighed happily and wriggled her toes between his ankles. She was content, and that surprised her seeing that she was curled against Spike. Her pain in the ass vampire.

Spike rumbled happily at the sensation of the Slayer wriggling her sleep soft body against his. He held her reverently in his arms and wondered when the dream would end and he would wake up cold and alone in his crypt.

For the first time in decades he was content. It felt good, so good and even better, it was because of the firecracker of a girl in his arms.  She smelt of sunshine, roses and vanilla. His mouth watered and his fangs partially dropped. He took a deep breath and tried to force his fangs into submission. He failed when Buffy moaned and wriggled even closer.

“Christ pet, are you trying to kill me?” Spike whispered. He waited for her to wake up and flail around and leap to her feet in a righteous rage. Instead she sighed and nudged her head under his chin.  Her hand still lay over the healing wound over his heart. She had covered it when they had curled up on the sofa in the early hours of the morning, almost apologetically. Spike had groaned at the contact and she had given him a small tremulous smile. He’d laid his own hand over hers and pressed a nervous kiss to her forehead. Sighing in relief when she had blinked and then tucked her head under his chin.

Spike groaned again.  He couldn’t help himself what with the Slayer wriggling all over him, his cock woke up and decided to join the party.

‘Oh my god’ Buffy’s stomach muscles twitched.  Pressed against the soft curve of her belly was…’Holy crap, he’s huoooge…’  Buffy blushed and held her breath, trying to decide whether or not to throw caution to the wind and press against his hardness and see where it went from there, or to act all scandalised and semi-virginal. Before either of the two blonds could decide what to do, there were an interruption. 

Dawn stumbled to a halt at the foot of the stairs and her jaw dropped at the sight presented to her.

“Oh my god!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She danced around the room, oblivious to the mayhem her screaming had created.

There was a flurry of limbs and Buffy and Spike fell off the couch and onto the floor.

“What?”  

“Dawn?”  

“Bloody Hell!”  

“Nothing happened…we just fell asleep.”  

“Give a bloke some warning before giving him a fright.”  

“Dawnie don’t be angry, please…”  

“There was nothing naughty goin’ on Nib…hand on heart.”  

“Geez, guilty consciences much?” Dawn squealed with delight and threw her arms around Buffy. “You and Spike with the snuggles, was it fun? Is he as yummy as he looks?”  

“He is standing right here and is sodding well not deaf!” Spike grinned at Dawn and curled his tongue against his back teeth and gave Buffy the sloe-eyed look. It was the one guaranteed to make knicker elastic snap in a second. Buffy gulped and blushed bright red as she stared at Spike.  

“This is awesome.  So have you kicked Riley to the curb?” Dawn wriggled out of her sister’s arms and pounced on Spike, giving him a quick squeeze around the waist.  

“Yeah, your sis read him the riot act and told him to leave town,” Spike lied smoothly, saving Buffy from the embarrassment of having to explain it all to her sister.  

“So are you guys dating?” Dawn interrupted, not really caring about Riley.  He’d barely been a blip on her radar. He had been rebound guy, a stopgap until Buffy was ready to move on to mucho better things. Such as the hottie standing in their sitting room with major bedhead curls.  

“Umm.” Spike for once was at a loss for words, unwilling to say anything to upset the delicate balance. He glanced over at Buffy for her response.  

She gave him a sphinx like grin, turning to Dawn. “Wait and see, Dawnie. Breakfast anyone?” Buffy trotted out of the room leaving the two of them behind.  

“Spike, you might want to go and use some of Buffy’s gels and stuff.” Dawn reached up and tugged on a curl.  

“Naaahhh…Dawnie leave him be.  He looks so cute with the curls,” Buffy called through from the kitchen.  

“Cute, do I?” Spike preened, and for once ignored the explosion of curls on his head that had been the bane of his life and unlife. If his Slayer liked the curls, he would do his Little Lord Fauntelroy impersonation for her.  

“Yeah Spike, you look cute!” Buffy giggled.  

Spike rocked back on his heels when Dawn joined in with her sister and giggled. He offered his arm to the pyjama clad teen, “Shall we?”

 

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