Buffy had given up on the garlic. After the first couple of nights and no Spike, she’d figured he wasn’t coming through the window. Why would he, after all? His invitation was still in effect. He could just knock on the front door, if he wanted to see her. Which he obviously didn’t, since there had been no sign of him for days. No cigarette butts under the tree, no shattered glass under her window. No swirling black coat out of the corner of her eye. No pale hair glinting in the moonlight.

She closed her eyes and rolled onto her stomach. The sun streamed in through her bedroom window, warming her cheek. She rubbed her face against her pillow and inhaled deeply. She could smell him. After that night…she’d come into her room and fell into bed, exhausted. She hadn’t showered until later, so her bed smelled like…him.

No, she thought. I’m not doing this. Don’t want to think about how good it was, how right. Don’t want to think about the things I said, the things he said. But, oh, I wish…I wish…

The Slayer opened her eyes and tossed the blankets back. She had to get Dawn ready for school. The younger Summers hadn’t figured out quite how to manage dressing on her own with her arm in a cast up to the elbow. Damn you, Willow, anyway.

The morning passed in a flurry of activity. Buffy made lunch for her sister and watched her walk down the street, to face another day of school. She watched Willow go through her morning ritual of showering and makeup. Finally, Willow left and Buffy could relax.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and went out the back door, letting it slam behind her. She sat on the top step and sipped slowly. She found herself staring at the spot where Spike usually stood. Right over there, by the corner of the kitchen. She sighed. Things weren’t supposed to be like this. She wasn’t supposed to care about his feelings. Wasn’t supposed to want a soulless demon. But, her mind whispered, he’s not a demon, he’s just Spike.

The worst part was that this was all her fault. That night the dancing demon kidnapped Dawn, Buffy had kissed him. The strangest thing really. Like at that moment in time, kissing Spike was the only choice she could have made. Had to do it. Couldn’t stop herself. Didn’t want to. That was the kicker, really. Once she’d started with the kissing, it consumed her. Like fire.

That’ll teach me, she thought wryly. I want the fire back, my ass.

But fine. One time she could excuse. There was a spell. Like that other time. At least, the dancing demon didn’t make her fall in love with Spike. God. Although, strangely, after Willow had broken the spell that made her will be done a few years back, Buffy remembered feeling a lot more disgusted than she did now.

How had Spike described it? All gone with the wind, and the rising music and the rising…music. She giggled a little. Her body had not forgotten anything about his since kissing him while under Willow’s spell. She still knew just where to press; still knew just how to lick his lips. She hadn’t forgotten the most comfortable way to fit herself against him and-

“God!” She bolted from the step, spilling her coffee. “I’m not doing this again.” She looked up at the sky, shaking her head. The sun hid behind dark clouds. He could venture out, if he wanted to. Through the sewers or covered by his blanket…just stop, Buffy.

He’s not coming. It’s been what? Four days since…he’s not coming. And it’s not like I care.

Buffy took her mug into the house. She straightened absently. A tossed jacket here, a key ring there. A stake that’d rolled under the couch. She did some laundry. It wasn’t even noon yet and already she was so bored she could scream. Wonder if this is what it’s like for him, being stuck inside all day. He wanted me to stay with him the other day…

The only thing better than killing a Slayer would be-

Idiot. I still can’t believe he said that. And I was so close to staying, too.

Buffy sank down onto the couch. For all his arrogance and swagger, for all the bravado and innuendo, she still wanted…him. Even after she’d thrown those lies at him. Convenient? Spike? Please. He’s anything but. Convenient was Riley, always willing to show up where and when she wanted him to. Always willing to do whatever she wanted, to agree with her.

Spike convenient? Not likely. She sipped her coffee. We’re talking about the man who goes out of his way to annoy me. Goes out of his way to piss me off to the point that I let my fists and my fury do the talking. Oddly, he really looked like he believed me when I said those horrible things. He sees through the lie when I say I don’t want him, why doesn’t he see through the other lies?

Maybe I’ll just take a little walk, she thought. Work off some energy. Take a look see around the cemetery and check the signs for newly made vamps.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time she got to the cemetery, she wasn’t kidding herself any longer. She knew where she was going, why bother to pretend that she wasn’t? When she reached his crypt, she carefully eased the door open. She smiled, realizing that she usually just slammed the door open, ignoring the niceties.

She closed it behind her, making sure it clicked shut. The she just stood, taking in her surroundings. Her eyes adjusted quickly, and she saw that he wasn’t here. No, she corrected herself. He’s not up here because he’s down there. Asleep.

Her sneakers were silent on the stone floor. She leaned over, peering down into the hole. Gracefully, she swung onto the ladder and climbed down to the lower level. Once her feet touched the ground, she paused, trying to get her breathing under control. She could almost hear her own heart beating in the stillness.

One more step forward and she could see his pale form. He lay motionless, the sheet drawn up to his chin. He lay curled on his side, one hand under his cheek, the other arm thrown out across the bed. Buffy took another few steps close. It was weird that his chest didn’t rise and fall. But then, he wouldn’t breathe, so…

He turned onto his back, and sighed. His feet kicked at the sheet and it slid lower, revealing his muscular form.

Buffy looked around desperately. Her fingernails dug half moons into her palms and she consciously made them relax. His scent was all around her, too familiar now to ignore. She was in his space, and she knew it.

So did he.

~~~~~~~~~~

The games we play, the vampire thought. So far, his body had not revealed any of the tension that consumed his mind. He knew he still gave the appearance of deep sleep. Four full days he had waited. Not seeing her, not even attempting to. It was all part of the game. Steps in the dance, he thought.

Now. What’s her next move? A stake? No. Much too late for that. More like she’ll just stand there and stare until it just about kills me.

Time passed. Spike had no way of knowing how long, or even if the Slayer still stood there, three feet away from his bed, watching.

He stretched deliberately, rolling onto his stomach and sliding one arm under his pillow. The sheet bunched at the small of his back.

Spike was rewarded when he heard the slight hiss of her breath in the silence. She watched, and he waited.

She must have moved at some point because he could now feel the heat coming off her body in waves. Then he felt it. Feather light, running from his shoulder down his spine. Her palm rested in the small of his back, her warmth seeping into his skin.

Life. So full of heat. Since his turning, he’d never been with a live girl, until that night with Buffy. When she’d taken him…the incredible heat of her had shocked him right to the core, and all he could do was stare in amazement. The she’d started riding him and all rational thought had been lost.

His shaft, already hard, stiffened to the point of pain, and he very nearly growled. The Slayer. So close. Touching him.

Two hands now, sliding across sinewy muscles, gently playing with the hair at his nape. What sort of game was this, then? The Slayer checking to see how much she could tease him before he snapped? Still he lay unmoving, unwilling to abandon the charade so soon. He very much wanted to know what her next action would be.

Her heart beat sounded like thunder to his senses and the scent of her musk washed over him.

“Spike?” she whispered. “I have to tell you something.”

Here it comes, he thought. He tensed, waiting for the verbal darts to begin flying. “Talk then,” he said.

He felt her leaning over, the long strands of her hair brushing against his skin.

“I….” she swallowed and tried again. “I did feel something.”

That was it. He twisted as he sat up, then grabbed her arm. He pulled her down next to him. He waited for the punch to be thrown, for the name calling and insults to follow.

Buffy looked into his eyes. “What you said…the other night? I did feel something.”

Spike smiled grimly. “Course you did. Sex tends to have that effect on a person. Leastways if it’s done right, it does.”

She looked annoyed. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh, don’t try to tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself, Slayer. We both know better.” He laid his palm against her chest. Her heart hammered against him.

“God, you are such a-” She pushed him away. “Every time I think I…you go and say something…” She bolted off the bed saying, “I swear, I don’t know how I can be so stupid!”

“Buffy, wait. Don’t go.” His voice was soft, all the swagger gone. He pressed his lips together for a moment then said, “I missed you.”

She stood with her back to him, wondering how this got all screwed up. She was only going to watch him sleep for awhile. She’d never intended to touch him. Never intended to say-

“Me too.” She realized what had just escaped her mouth and gasped.

Spike’s eyes widened and he closed the remaining distance between them. He waited a hairsbreadth behind her, so close he saw the pulse jumping in her neck.

Her head bowed, and she looked at the floor. “I never meant to…you’re not…you’re not convenient, Spike.”

He blinked. “Come again, love?”

“You are quite possibly the most inconvenient man I have ever been involved with.” Her voice broke on the last word. She turned so she could see his face.

He stared at her forever, wonder etched on his face. “I thought I was a thing? Something evil…disgusting.” Was his throat supposed to be this tight?

“You…you’re supposed to be. A thing. It was easier when you were. Then you had to go and…”

“Fall in love with you.”

“Spike, I don’t-”

“I know.” He stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed. That was one point he didn’t need belabored.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is…” Her eyes fell on him and she yelped. “I can’t talk to you like this!” She spun back around, her face burning.

He chuckled. “Ought to be used to it, by now, Slayer. Had a right eyeful already, haven’t you?” But he reached down and began tugging on a pair of black jeans. He stood up to buckle his belt and added, “I’m all covered up, love.” The bed creaked as he sat. He leaned back against the pillows, arms behind his head.

She turned her head, hesitating, until she saw that he was indeed clothed. Buffy felt backed into a corner. She wanted to…what? Kiss him, touch him, take him….God, all of the above. But this was Spike, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do next to get what she wanted.

She bit her lower lip and climbed onto his bed. His eyes flickered, but he didn’t move. Buffy stared at the white sheet for a moment. The she slid herself up so that she was next to him, up at the head of the bed.

His blue gaze never wavered from hers.

Buffy extended her hand and touched his face. Her thumb brushed against his lower lip. Spike didn’t move. Buffy sidled a bit closer, her hand cupping his cheek now. She leaned forward and kissed him, her eyes drifting shut as sensation flared.

His arms wrapped around her as he lost himself in her taste. He licked her lips and lost himself in the kiss, tangling his hands in the mass of her hair. The Slayer brought her arms up and slid them around his neck. “Spike,” she breathed against his mouth.

He responded with a growl; not demon, but purely male. He pulled her body flush against his, needing her to be closer still. Their legs intertwined and Buffy writhed against him in sinuous pleasure. She pressed against his hardness with her thigh, then reached down and stroked him through his jeans.

He broke the kiss for a second. “See? Don’t know why I bothered putting these bloody things back on.” Buffy tugged at the buckle. The belt broke and she tossed it across the room.

“Hey! That was my last good belt, Slayer.”

She kissed his chin and murmured, “It’s almost Christmas. I’ll buy you a new one.” She freed him from his jeans and folded her hand around him. She watched him close his eyes in obvious pleasure at her touch. She felt a wave of purely feminine power wash through her. Her insecurity had fled in the face of his desire.

She stared into his visage as her hand moved up and down on him. “Spike. Open your eyes.”

His blue eyes had darkened, the pupils wide and black. One arm snaked out and held her like a vise. He felt her breath fall in staccato bursts on his cheeks. “Buffy, that feels…I want…”

“What do you want?”

Then he caught the hand that offered such visceral pleasure. He ran his fingers in the waistband of her pants. “You.” He leaned down and whispered harshly into her ear, “Take these off, or I’ll rip them off of you.”

Buffy moved away from him, struggling to get her pants off. Skirts, she thought crazily. This was so much easier with that wraparound skirt. She had her pants halfway down when she gasped.

His hand on his shaft, he stroked in steady beats as he watched her strip. “Don’t stop now, Slayer. You’re getting to the good part.”

A surge of wetness seeped between her legs as she sat stunned for a second. Watching him do that, made her want… She kicked the jeans off the rest of the way and pulled the t-shirt over her head. Naked now, except for her bra, she couldn’t take her eyes from him.

“You want to do it, too, don’t you,” he said knowingly. “Want to touch yourself, while I watch.”

“No, I…”

“Yes, you do.” His hand never missed a stroke. His voice had thickened. “Go ‘head, Slayer. ‘S all right. Nothing to be ashamed of.” Blue eyes flared pure heat and his lips curved in a devastating smile. “Please?”

Her fingers slid between her legs. The wetness had seeped onto the top of her thighs, and she rubbed it into her skin. Over and over she drew her hand across her mound. His eyes followed every movement. Her fingers slipped inside and she stretched herself. She moved them up to the tiny button that demanded attention. Burying her fingers in the hood, she worked it in little circles. Her eyes drifted closed.

“No, damn it. Buffy, look at me!”

Her breath caught. The tip of his shaft was nearly purple and his eyes burned into hers. She dragged her palm through her wetness then knocked his hand aside. She wrapped her fingers around his cock, rubbing her juices into him.

“That’s it.”

He flipped her roughly to her back and entered her in one thrust. He managed to hold himself still for a moment, staring into her face. He held her cheeks in his palms. He kissed her, and this time he felt the fluttering of her body as she responded to him. Then he started moving in her again. Her legs came up and wrapped around his waist. He ripped her bra from her and leaned down, suckling hard at her nipple.

She cried out, and pulled his head closer. Her hips moved with him. She licked his neck and then sucked at the skin, leaving a purple bruise. She didn’t have to work for her orgasm; it simply took over her being. Her body seemed to stutter, and then the powerful contractions sent pure ecstasy shooting through her.

His hand had slipped between their bodies and he rubbed her where she needed it. He drew out her climax, until the spiral built. She came again, stunned, her skin vibrating under the surface.

Spike couldn’t hold back any longer. He buried his face in her neck and sucked at as hard as he could, shooting into her body. He brought one hand up to tangle in the Slayer’s mussed hair.

He rolled to the side so not to crush her with his weight. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring her scent.

Buffy’s face pressed against his chest. This was the tricky part. This was usually when things started to go bad. Maybe this time things could be different. A little less…painful. But Spike’s arms were around her, and he wasn’t making nasty remarks…as a matter of fact he seemed…content. Could that be?

“Spike.” She said softly.

He tensed. “Yeah, lo-Buffy?” Just once, he thought, I wish we could do this without-

“I have some time. I don’t have to…run off.”

Spike became very still. “Okay. Good.” He yawned and tightened his arms. “Could use a bit of a nap, truth to tell.”

The Slayer smiled against his chest. “All right,” she said. “Good.”

Buffy found herself standing ankle deep in water. Sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, and she heard the quiet sounds of water lapping against the earth. She was on a sandbar. She started walking, feeling the water gently pull at her feet. She went on like that for some time. She looked over to her left and saw a tidal wave rising up in the distance. I can’t outrun that, she thought. Calmly, she continued walking through the water. She glanced over to her right and saw another tidal wave approaching. I’m dead, she thought, no way I’m surviving this. Still, she didn’t run. She simply kept walking.

She had the sense to take a deep breath before the waves crashed into her. Buffeted in powerful swirling water, she felt herself turn upside down. Something yanked at her, and she struggled, desperately trying to reach the surface. Her lungs burned. I’m not gonna make it, she thought. Still, she held her breath, kicking her legs as hard as she could. Then the moment came when her body’s need forced her to inhale the water.

She took a deep breath of water, and her body seized. But she was fine. Over and over she breathed in the ocean, and now she could see brilliant beams of light sparkling and glowing through the water. She could see every form of life that existed in the ocean, down to the smallest plankton. She saw creatures that she had never imagined, and creatures that no longer existed. She breathed in the water, like it was air, and she felt at peace.

Then she awoke.

Rubbing her eyes, she felt something solid next to her. That was strange. She turned her head -her neck painfully announced that it was very stiff, indeed- and drew in a sharp gasp. Spike lay next to her, naked and sleeping.

Buffy remembered. She had slept with him again, this time with her blinders off. She had slept with him in spite of that hateful voice inside her that said over and over, “it’s wrong.” Her thighs ached and her shoulders felt tight. And why was her neck so stiff? Weird.

“Spike.” She shook the sleeping vampire’s shoulder. “Spike, wake up, I have to go. Dawn…”

His eyes opened then, and he blinked slowly. Just stared at her for a long moment. “Buffy?”

The Slayer gave him a wry look. “You were expecting…?”

He yawned. “Wasn’t expecting you to be here when I woke up. Thought you’d’ve run off already for the Bit.”

“I was having this dream…felt like it took forever, you know? Like it happened in slow motion?”

Spike slid closer to her and draped an arm over her waist. “Mmm.” His eyes had drifted shut again.

“It started off kinda scary but then I felt…” She hesitated.

Spike waited for a few seconds, but when the silence continued he prompted, “You felt what?”

“Peace.” Buffy avoided his gaze. Somehow her dream seemed much more intimate when she described it out loud. “Anyway, like I said, I have to meet my sister.”

Spike watched her as she dressed. She had to keep searching around to find all of her missing clothes but finally she had herself together again. He sat up in bed with his back against the headboard, wishing that he knew some way to avoid this awkwardness that enveloped them after sex.

Buffy finished tying her sneakers and came around the sit on his side of the bed. “So, um, I have to…”

“Yeah,” he answered.

The silence stretched out again, and Buffy wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say or do next. She had come to him this time, had spent a good part of the day in his bed by choice. Shouldn’t he at least kiss her goodbye or something? Then she felt annoyed that she was even spending time thinking about this when it was clear that she should have left already.

“So, I’ll see you, then,” she said quickly and stood up to go.

“When?” His voice sounded harsh in the stillness.

She turned around and opened her mouth.

Spike. Naked. In the bed that they had just shared. Naked.

Her feet carried her back to the bed. His blue eyes, which had remained carefully expressionless, flared with emotion. She leaned down and brushed her mouth against his. She pressed her forehead against his and looked into his eyes. “Soon,” she said.

He pulled her into his arms, and hugged her tightly. “Good.” He gave her a scorching kiss. “Go get Dawn now, Slayer.”

Buffy felt something twist in her chest. A wellspring of emotion churned about in there. She smiled wanly. “Bye,” she said softly. The she climbed the shaky ladder back up to ground level and left the crypt.

XXX

Dinner at 1630 Revello turned out to be a quiet, tense affair, filled with deafening silences and in Dawn’s case--fulminating glares shot across the table in Willow’s direction. Willow, for the most part, remained mute-- speaking only when spoken to, and then responding in monosyllables. Dawn tried to get Buffy to hold up part of a conversation, but Buffy was much too preoccupied by the emotions generated by this afternoons activities. Dawn rolled her eyes one last time then dumped her plate in the sink and headed upstairs.

“Will,” Buffy began hesitantly.

The redhead looked up from her uneaten meal. “Yes?”

Buffy paused with her back to the sink, searching for words. “Do you know anything about dream interpretation?”

Willow’s eyes brightened. “I have this book…oh. It was Tara’s.” She looked down again, but added, “I remember a lot of stuff, though. After we all had those freaky dreams, that time? Tara and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what it all meant.”

“I had this dream this afternoon, and I…I can’t stop thinking about it. There was just…it was one of those dreams where the important thing isn’t so much about what happens, but how it makes you feel.”

“Buffy, tell me.” Willow smiled almost shyly at her friend. “I know that things lately…I want to help is all.”

Buffy recounted her dream of the tidal waves that hit from both sides, and how she’d been swept underwater, and disoriented. She paused as she got to the part about breathing water and then the words couldn’t come out quickly enough as she told Willow about how peaceful she felt there in the ocean.

“Wow.” Willow said.

Buffy’s eyebrows shot up. “This rates a wow? We mean wow in a good way, right? Not in an ‘it’s the end of the world way’, right?”

The witch leaned forward. “Water represents a lot of things in dreams, Buffy. First, it means emotions. And second, it means life. Life originated in the seas, you know. But off the top of my head, the fact that you have two tidal waves means that there are very strong feelings you’re having about something, and probably they’re conflicting with each other.”

“Hmm. That could make sense. But then how come I felt so peaceful when I was inhaling water? What’s that all about?”

Willow tilted her head to the side. “Well…maybe when you stopped fighting your emotions, and just went with the flow. You know, you can’t fight the tides.” Suddenly, her face paled and she cried, “Buffy, you’re not gonna do anything…rash are you?”

Taken aback, Buffy said, “I don’t know. Like what do you mean?”

Willow’s eyes filled with tears and she hung her head. “I know it’s my fault that you…that we pulled you out of-”

Buffy’s face softened. “Will. I’m not planning on killing myself, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”

“Well, I was just thinking, you know, about finally going with the flow and…oh.” Realizing, she said, “Oooh. It’s a good thing. You allowed your emotions to overtake you and even though you thought you might die, it turned out okay anyway.”

Comprehension dawned on the Slayer. Softly she said, “I was sure I was going to die. And I was okay with that. But I didn’t, and I had a new existence waiting for me…my God….” Spike, she thought. “Willow, I…I have to patrol. Can you…?” She gestured at the kitchen.

“Sure, Buffy.”

The Slayer was out the door in moments. She strode quickly along the familiar route. Gotta love Sunnydale, she mused. Everything’s within a ten minute walk. As she walked her inner voices started up again.

Oh, Buffy? Have you figured out what you’re gonna do when you get there? Or is this a play it by ear kinda thing?

I guess I should tell Spike….

This ought to be good. Yes, tell him what exactly? Hmmm?

Shut up, she told herself. All I know is that I’m supposed to follow my emotions. And even if I think it might kill me, it won’t. Buffy shook her head and stopped.

“What am I doing?” she said. “I don’t have feelings like that for…for Spike!” But the words sounded forced and unnatural to her ears.

Slowly, she started forward again. New, unfamiliar words balanced precariously upon her lips. In a whisper she said, “I have feelings for Spike.” Buffy paused, and when she didn’t die, she decided to try again. “I care about Spike,” she said softly. She looked skyward as if waiting for the heavens to fall. Then the air hissed and her head hit the earth.

Dazed from the blow, she saw a vampire lean over her and smirk. “Slayer,” it said. “I’ve been wanting to meet…I mean, eat you.” He kicked her in the ribs.

Buffy’s head had cleared, and she lashed out with a foot, shattering his knee. She got to her feet, ignoring the screaming from her broken ribs. She pulled a stake from the waistband of her pants. “The feeling’s mutual. Too bad you won’t be around long enough for us to get to know each other.”

“Why, Slayer, you’re famous in the demon world. Everyone knows you’re the easiest layer...oops, I mean , Slayer, that ever walked the earth.”



They circled each other. The vampire grinned cruelly and said, “Oh, that’s right. You only sleep with vampires who have no bite anymore. Angelus. William, the Bloody.”

Buffy went motionless and gave him a look. He lunged at her, but this time Buffy was paying attention. She stepped aside and let the vamp slam into the tree she’d been leaning against.

“Bye-bye,” she said, as a shower of dust fell to the earth. “Thanks for playin’.” She stuffed the stake back in her waistband and gingerly felt her ribcage. It hurt to breathe and she was pretty sure some stuff was broken in there. She decided to keep heading to Spike’s. He would have some medical supplies. And she wanted to see him anyway.

XXX

Her right side was on fire by the time she made it to the familiar crypt. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a long moment, watching the candlelight dance and flicker.

“Spike?” she called.

His voice floated up through the hole in the floor. “I’m here, love. Come on down.”

“Thank you, Bob Barker,” she muttered. “I kind of, ow,… I need you to come up here, actually. Like, now, would be good.” She waited impatiently, guarding her injured side.

His hands appeared on the top rung of the ladder before he climbed all the way out. He looked at her curiously for a moment. “You okay, Slayer? Lookin’ a mite peaked.”

She sighed and then winced. “I need your help.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Well, now, that’s a familiar refrain, innit?”

“My ribs…are kinda broken. Can you wrap them?”

“Let me feel,” he said. He eased her jacket aside and slipped his hands against her side. His brow furrowed as he concentrated. “At least two, and maybe a third. Hurts, does it?”

Buffy glared. “Duh? Yes, it hurts. Can you help me wrap it or what?”

He shook his head. “You should see a doctor, love. But you won’t. So, give me a minute, and I’ll fix you all up.”

“I can come down there, if you want,” she offered.

Spike tilted his head to the side and gave her a look.

“What? It’s steps,” Buffy said. “I can do steps. Besides…it’s more comfortable down there. There’s…furniture and stuff.”

“Come on then. And mind the rungs on the ladder.” He climbed down, figuring that he could catch her if she lost her balance.

The Slayer decided that maneuvering down the rickety ladder was harder than she’d expected. When her feet finally reached the floor, she took a deep breath and immediately gasped in pain. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Heard that,” the vampire told her. He put a cardboard box at her feet and leaned over, rooting through the contents. “Hold this,” he ordered, and shoved an Ace bandage in her lap. More rooting, then a roll of white medical tape was thrust into her hands. “Take one of these,” he said, holding up a small bottle of pills.

Buffy peered at it. The prescription was in the name of Rupert Giles, and it was-“What’s…mep…mep…meperdinine?”

“Meperidine. Demerol. Pain killers. Rupert left then for me after…after Glory did her little number on me last year.” He took the tape from her and started tearing off long strips, sticking then to the edge of his night table. “So.” He stood up and stretched his back. “What beastie managed to do this to you, Slayer? Been slacking off on your training since Watcher boy left, or what?”

Buffy picked at the sheets with her fingertips. She really didn’t want to tell him that she had been so distracted by her epiphany about him that she’d gotten her ass kicked and been insulted by a common ordinary vampire. So she opened the bottle and swallowed two pills, dry. “I just…had a lot on my mind, you know? I got the job done.”

“Uh-huh,” he said flatly. “Take your shirt off.”

“What? No!”

Shaking his head, he said, “That’s just a knee-jerk reaction with you, isn’t it? Broken ribs, remember? You did come here so I could take care of you, right?”

Blood rushed to her face and she looked down. ‘Taking care of her’ had a new and different meaning lately. But, yeah. Ribs. She got it. She unbuttoned her shirt, still avoiding his eyes.

Spike pressed his lips together grimly. Dealing with this Slayer was like balancing on a tightrope. Always so bloody moody, she was. Efficiently, he wrapped the bandage snugly around her middle, running his hand along the material to smooth it down.

Buffy closed her eyes and yawned. All of the sudden she felt so tired. This whole night, her broken ribs…it all seemed very far away. For instance, she could hear Spike’s voice but she couldn’t understand what he was saying. She yawned again. “I had this really weird dream this afternoon,” she announced.

“That right?” he scooped her up and laid her on the bed. Buffy’s eyes never opened as she nestled her cheek into the pillow. Her finger tips rubbed a corner of the pillow case. Spike climbed carefully over her and lay on his side, facing her.

“Yep. There were these tidal waves…and I could breathe water.” She fell silent for a time, and Spike thought she had fallen asleep when she spoke again. “Willow said that it meant that I faced some emotional fear and-” huge yawn-“and went with the flow. That’s when the water turned to air or something.” Buffy forced her eyes to open and wasn’t startled at all to see Spike’s face about two inches from her own. She reached out and touched his cheek. Her lids drifted shut again. “You have the most beautiful eyes…”

Spike felt warmth suffuse his entire body. This was the first compliment the Slayer had ever paid him. Plus, she was drugged so she had no reason to lie. On the minus side, she was drugged so she wasn’t aware of having said it. Still, he thought, as a smile played on his lips, Buffy liked his eyes. His kissed her gently, brushing his mouth softly against hers.

He flipped to his other side for a moment to glance at the old watch on his night table. Buffy wouldn’t want to stay here all night. But…it wouldn’t hurt for her to sleep just a little while longer would it? A couple of hours, nothing more. Spike turned back to his Slayer and whispered, “Sweet dreams.”

Part 3: