She punched the punching bag even harder this time, finally breaking the surface, much to her satisfaction. Something has to be at some point. Especially since that…jerk refuses to play anymore. Who the hell does he think he is to demand more from me? Huh? she thought angrily. She punched the bag again, and noticed the split was getting longer. Xander was going to kill her. He’d already stated he was tired of sewing the damn thing up the past two times she’d destroyed it.

She growled, noting that most of her equipment was already in the ‘needing to be repaired’ stage from this workout. Since there’s nothing left, I guess I’ll towel off and go let Xander know he’s needed, she thought. She headed over to her bag, grabbing a towel, and a large bottled water, and then headed to the front of the store. “Oh Xander…,” she called cheerily.

He groaned and turned away from the inventory he was helping Anya with. “Tell me you didn’t wreck the training room again, Buff.”

She frowned and took a sip of her water, then answered. “What if I did? Shouldn’t I be working my hardest to make sure I beat down any demon that comes close to m-er, us?”

Tara looked up from the book she was reading and gave Buffy a small smile. “I’m sure beating your training equipment to dust won’t keep demons from getting close to you, Buffy. Sometimes, it just happens. Then it’s too late.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed and she glared at Tara. “It’s never too late to fight back. To stop some filthy, nasty demon from…,” she covered her mouth and shuddered. “Oh, god, I’m gonna be sick.”

She ran to the bathroom, barely making it before she heaved out everything she’d eaten in the past couple of hours. When she was sure she was finished, she braced her arms over the toilet, closing her eyes to let the world stop spinning before she moved. Then she stood up slowly, and walked over to the sink, rinsing her mouth out with the water. She checked her face and clothes for any unpleasant remnants of her puking, and then wiped off the toilet seat. She flushed the toilet, entranced by the swirling water refilling the bowl.

She had to get out of there. She had to go and just…be somewhere that wasn’t here. The bathroom was closing her in, and she threw the door open, ignoring the concerned looks everyone was shooting her. “I’m outta here. I’ll be back in awhile. I just…need some time alone, I think.”

She practically ran out of the shop, leaving them speechless. Finally, Anya looked up and asked, “Now that’s Buffy’s gone, can you finish helping me count the new artifact inventory?”

************************************************************************

The door to Spike’s crypt slammed open, and Buffy strode in, determined to let him have it for making her wait so long. Her eyes searched the darkness until they lit upon him, asleep in his chair in front of the TV. Something in her softened as she watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the happy smile on his face. He must be having a good dream, she thought, crossing the room quietly. When she approached, he shifted slightly, whispering her name, and she started, thinking he’d awakened. He didn’t stir again, and she let out a sigh of relief. It was kind of nice just watching him sleep. Comforting, in a weird way.

He moaned her name again suddenly, and her jaw dropped. She glanced at his lap and almost blushed. He must be having a very good dream, she thought. About me. A smile played about her lips and she leaned over, whispering in his ear softly. He murmured in his sleep and she brushed a piece of hair off her forehead. Her heart thumped loudly, and she felt sure that he’d wake up any moment. She closed her eyes, already regretting what she was about to do, and punched him in the face.

Spike woke up with a growl, his demon surging forth as he prepared to defend himself. When he saw Buffy was his rude alarm clock, he sighed deeply, and settled back into the chair. He pulled out his cigarettes and his lighter, lighting up before he spoke to her. “What do you want, Slayer?”

Her retort caught her throat as she felt another wave of nausea wrack through her body, followed by a light-headed feeling. “I’m here to… I’m here to…” Her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed onto the floor.

Spike gaped at the prone woman on his floor in shock. The Slayer just fainted? What the bloody hell is going on? he thought. He picked her up, carrying her to the sarcophagus and lying her down gently. He slapped her face lightly a few times, and she didn’t even blink. He considered getting a glass of water from downstairs and realized he didn’t have a glass that wasn’t caked with blood. Sighing, he braced himself for the pain and smacked her hard on the cheek.

She sat up with a start, and looked around warily. “What happened?”

“You, uh, you fainted, Sl-Buffy,” he said, pushing her hair out of her face. “Are you okay?”

She shrugged his hands off and tried to steady the world as it swayed around her. “I think so. I fainted? I’ve never fainted before.”

He chuckled and put his hands on her shoulders, trying to help her orient herself. “It happens, Buffy. Everyone has fainted once or twice. It doesn’t mean your weak.”

“I’m sure you faint all the time, Spike,” she muttered, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on them.

“I have in the past. Once, Angelus and that blonde bitch were off pissing some vampire hunter off, and Dru had to find us a hidey hole to stay in while this guy chased every vampire in Europe trying to find Angelus. We got stuck in this cave system for a week and couldn’t find our way out. Dru was always eating rats and things, but I was a stubborn sonuvabitch and refused to eat em. One day, I fainted dead away. I was starving to death, you see.”

Buffy looked up at him. “What happened after that?”

“She uh fed on some rodents, then made me feed from her wrist while I was out. The demon simply took over…survival instinct and all,” he replied, looking away.

She pulled his face back around, forcing him to look at her. “Spike, you don’t have to be ashamed that you didn’t want to starve to death. I mean, yuck rats, but it’s not like that’s something new for guys in my life. Angel ate rats before Whistler found him. No big, okay?”

He nodded, swallowing a huge lump his throat. When he trusted himself to speak, he asked, “Slayer, have you eaten today?”

“Yeah. I threw up, though. Right before I left the Magic Box to come here,” she said softly.

“You sick or something?”

“Not that I know of. Guess I just got kinda pissy and emotional, and then I tossed my breakfast. Why?”

“Just asking. I mean, is that normal? Could you be coming down with something?” he said, hopping up on the crypt and sitting next to her.

“I don’t think so. It’s not like I feel bad. It just…came out. Weird, huh?” she commented, plucking at the buttons on her wind pants absently.

“Yep, that’s mighty strange, Slayer.” He paused for a moment, staring into space and contemplating the situation. “Wanna spar?”

She shook her head vehemently, and then groaned when it tilted the axis of her vision again. “No way.”

“Wanna play strip poker?” he asked mischievously, scooting out of her reach before she could smack him.

Buffy pondered for a moment, taking in the devilish twinkle in his eye, and his playful attitude. “I’m in. Where’re the cards?”

************************************************************************

Buffy wandered into her house smiling dreamily. She’d left the magic shop in one of her foulest moods to date, yet now she was practically floating on air. Maybe Spike isn’t such a bad influence, she thought, giggling to herself. She headed up the stairs, knowing she had to shower before anyone smelled the musky sex smell she had emanating. Combined with the sweatiness from her workout, she felt more than a little ripe. She stepped under the hot spray and let the water steam all the tension out of her overworked muscles.

As the water started to turn cold, she stepped out of the shower, toweling herself dry vigorously. She wiped the steam off the mirror, and appraised the satisfied glow her skin had taken on. Grinning like an idiot, she wrapped the towel around her waist, frowning at how it didn’t seem to cover her completely. Her good mood prevailed and she dug a larger bath sheet out from under the sink, wrapping it around herself. She hummed softly as she headed downstairs to the laundry room to find her favorite pink Capri pants.

Buffy pulled up her Capris, struggling with the zipper. She frowned, determined not to let anything ruin the good feelings coursing through her body. “Musta shrunk. I keep telling Dawn they have to be run on ‘delicates’.” Shrugging, she pulled on a pair on Adidas track pants and a wifebeater that had to have been Spike’s at some point. She walked out into the kitchen, still humming, to find something to eat. Surprisingly, Tara was sitting at the counter waiting for her.

*"Um, Buffy?" she said, "we need to talk. I've been doing some more research on the spell. The one we used to bring you back?"

Buffy leaned forward. "What did you find out? Is there something wrong with me after all? I mean, really wrong?"

"N...no," Tara stuttered. "It's just that.... You know how I mentioned a cellular change? Well, there's a little more to it. Your body, it's like a cellular furnace. Sort of, life concentrator. It, um, it can heat up, if you want to call it that... well," she whispered, "cold seed."

Buffy stared at her friend. "You mean..."

"Um, you and Spike. You have been taking precautions, haven't you?"*

Buffy’s eyes rolled back into her head and for the second time, the Slayer fainted dead away.