Part 1:

Disclaimers: Not mine, Joss and co. own it.

Spoilers: Only for season 4, as if that matters.

Author's Note: Yippee, look, it's my first non-angsty, non season seven fiction! I've wanted to write a fluffy Spuffy fic for a while now; but have really been focusing on the angst lately. This is an AU (alternate universe) fiction set in season four when Spike was still chipped and living at Giles' place. If you want some fluffy goodness, read on! Oh, and review if you want more.

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Buffy watched as Giles cleaned his glasses on his shirt, wondering how many times he'd done that in the past fifteen minutes. Ten? Twenty? A hundred? Or had he been wiping them ever since he's starting talking? Giles babbled on about responsibilities and whatnot and Buffy rolled her eyes, grumbling.

"Giles!"

He looked up at her, startled, and momentarily stopped cleaning his glasses.

"Could you just get to the point, already? You know, time is money?"

"Ah, yes, well . . ." he paused, taking a deep breath and gathering his strength. "There's a friend in town, and I have intended on . . . visiting with her this evening."

Buffy sighed. "Giles, I'm not your mother. If you want to go out and have a good time, fine by me. I don't see why you couldn't just tell me this on the phone."

"That's not all. I need you to . . . watch Spike for me."

Buffy groaned, sticking her lip out in a pouty, child-like manner.

"Giiiiiiles," she whined, crossing her arms over her chest angrily, "You said you wouldn't need me to do anything tonight . . . I was going to go to a party. You know, have a social life? Slayers need nights off, too. Besides, he's all tied up! He can't go anywhere."

She looked up at him hopefully and, realizing that he wouldn't budge, decided to go another route.

"Why can't Willow or Xander vamp-sit?"

"I attempted to get in touch with Willow, but she was out, and Xander wanted to spend some . . . quality time with Anya tonight. Oh, but on the bright side, he'll be able to take over your Spike duties after he's . . . finished."

Buffy pouted again, furrowing her brow. 'It won't be too bad, I guess. I mean, we haven't been fighting lately and it's not like I'll have to spend time with him or anything. Just spend a quiet night in front of the television.'

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Spike grinned, his lips parting wide, his teeth gleaming like those of some kind of maniacal Cheshire cat. Buffy stood next to him, holding the cup of pig's blood in one hand and the TV remote in the other. She moved the straw up to his mouth and he started to drink, vamping out and sucking the sticky red fluid from the novelty mug. Buffy was channel surfing, flipping from one lousy program to the next and trying to ignore Spike. She chanced a quick glance over at him, and shuddered at the sight of the blood he was drinking. Spike caught her queasy expression on her face and dropped the straw from his mouth.

"I thought you'd gotten over this. Look, I'm a vampire. I drink blood. I can't get it out of you lot anymore, so I have to drink this sub-par crap. You think that seeing me drink pigs' blood out of a cup is nasty? You oughta see me drain a victim."

Buffy glared at Spike, taking the mug away from him.

"I think you've had enough."

Spike scowled, his stomach starting to rumble. He was still hungry; he hadn't even finished half of the cup. "Hey, stop, there's a lot of good blood left!"

Buffy smirked at him, setting the mug on the coffee table. "I thought it was 'sub-par crap'."

"Yeah, but I'm hungry, and I kind of don't have a choice; it's that or nothing."

A devilish expression came across his face. "Unless, of course, you're willing to give me some of your blood."

Buffy gave a contemptuous snort, although she did inch away from him a little. "Yeah, like that'll happen in a million years."

Spike grinned wider, hopping in his chair, making it bounce over towards her. "C'mon, Slayer . . . just a little taste."

She moved farther away, a small smile playing on her lips. "Over my dead body."

"Yeah, that was the plan."

He continued to move towards Buffy, bouncing faster so he could catch up with her.

"I promise, I'll be gentle! It won't hurt . . . me."

Buffy laughed softly and moved away from the rapidly approaching chair. She made a mad dash over to the foot of the stairs, and then waited for him to catch up. He bounced over to her, panting unnecessarily. She walked up the first few stairs and Spike attempted to follow, but managed to only make it up the first step, finding that the back legs of the chair were still on the landing. Buffy continued up the stairs, grinning at her victory and at the idea of leaving Spike in that awkward, tilty position. He looked up at her frantically, not wanting to be left like this.

"Hey! Come back! I was just kidding, I won't bite you . . . unless you want me to." He added under his breath.

Buffy stopped halfway up the steps, paused, then came back down again. "What was that?"

Spike looked at her with innocent, doe-like eyes. "What was what, luv?"

"I thought I heard you say . . ." She stopped, shaking her head. "Never mind. -I'm- going to go downstairs to watch some TV."

Buffy made her way down to the living room and, never breaking her stride, placed one finger on Spike's nose and pushed. His eyes grew wide as the chair tipped backwards, landing with a loud 'thunk!' on the floor.

"Ow! Bloody hell."

Spike could hear Buffy giggling from the next room. He loved the sound of her laughter; sweet and intoxicating . . . he shook his head, frowning. 'I can't think of things like that, she's the SLAYER, for crying out loud! I'm not her friend, I'm a vampire that happens to be living in her Watcher's house, and she's only here to make sure I don't escape. Besides . . . she'd never think about me that way.'

Spike lay on the floor, his head throbbing from where it'd hit the back of the chair. "You know, Slayer, I think I might've cracked my head from that fall. I could bloody well sue."

"Yeah Spike, sure." Buffy called from the next room. "What're you going to do, represent yourself in court. I can see it now . . . 'So what if I tried to kill her and her friends a dozen times, she tied me up in a chair! -And- she tipped me over - I call for the death penalty!'"

He chuckled softly. "No, Slayer, I would get myself a lawyer."

She snorted mockingly. "What, a human? Please, like they would touch you with a ten-foot pole! Besides, the bleached hair and the all black clothing? Doesn't really scream 'innocent'."

"I figure since vamps and lawyers are so alike - being bloodsucking fiends and all - that we'd get along just fine. Besides, didn't say I'd wear the leather."

Buffy giggled, getting a mental picture of Spike in formal, black suit. 'Ladies and gentlemen, the new James Bond!' She laughed even harder at the thought of this, as Spike craned his neck, trying to see what was she was giggling at.

"What's so soddin' funny?"

"Nothing . . . James." She tried to hold it in but failed miserably, laughing like a madwoman.

Spike shook his head and smiled lightly. 'Women.' Once she had quieted down, he cleared his throat.

"Um . . . Slayer?"

"What is it now, Spike?"

"Err, can you get me off of the floor? I don't want the Wh - um, Xander, finding me like this. I don't trust him not to . . . use my vulnerable state to his advantage."

Buffy sighed, picking herself up off the couch and moving over to the fallen vamp. He looked so helpless that she found herself smiling.

"What, is the Big Bad afraid of little ol' Xander?"

He glared up at the ceiling, sending mental daggers to Buffy. "Afraid? Hell no! But that poncy bugger's always had it in for me, and I don't . . ."

"Spike!" She got on all fours and leaned over so that he could see her face. "I'll pick you up, okay? Just stop talking."

Buffy grasped the back of the chair with both hands, lifting it off the floor. She pretended to strain against the weight, grunting. "Ugh, Spike, you're so heavy," she teased.

He raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What's this, then?"

She hoisted the chair up and turned it about so that she was facing Spike.

"I'm serious, you -do- have it too comfortable around here. Lying in that chair all day, watching TV . . . I think you're getting a blood belly."

Spike's eyes widened comically. "What? No I'm not!"

He tugged at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and exposing his stomach. He ran his hand over its taut surface and was relieved to find that it was in its normal, toned state.

Buffy's breath caught in her throat. 'Who knew that Spike was so . . . built?'

She slapped herself mentally, trying to rid her mind of the naughty, wicked thoughts she was having. 'No, I can't, I mean, um . . . wow, he must really work out.'

" - so you'd better know . . . Buffy!"

The sound of Spike's voice snapped her back to reality. "Muh? I mean, what?"

"As I was -saying-, the next time you go around making serious accusations like that, you'd better know the facts!"

Buffy blushed, her cheeks turning a rosy hue. "Yeah . . . facts . . ."

She turned and started towards the living room and back to the soft, warm couch.

"Slayer!"

She groaned and spun on her heels. "What is it now, Spike?" she asked, obviously frustrated.

He grinned at her sheepishly. "I can't see the telly from over here."

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TBC . . .

Part 2:

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"Are you happy now?"

Buffy's hands were planted firmly on her hips in a frustrated manner, her fingers aching from dragging Spike's chair around the room for the past few minutes. He smiled, contented with his spot next to the sofa. Spike would have been able to see the TV just fine in some of the other places she had put him, but he had enjoyed watching her struggle with the chair.

"I guess it'll have to do . . . but I could have a better view if you just untied me. You wouldn't even have to move me around."

Buffy shook her head in disbelief. "But Spike, I thought you got a kick out of bondage."

"Depends on who's tyin' up who, luv."

She blushed, embarrassed, and sat down on the sofa. She grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels again. Spike squinted; trying to make out the programs Buffy was passing.

"Argh, Slayer, you're goin' too bloody fast! Probably going to go into seizures from all of the flashing lights."

"Fine, why don't you pick a show?" She grinned. "Oh, wait, you can't."

"Please, just choose a soddin' program! Really, I don't care what it is, just stop!"

Buffy decided to stop on the next channel, hoping that something really bad would be on; an infomercial for hair removal cream, perhaps. Her hand stilled on the remote. Buffy's eyes flicked up to the screen, widening at what she saw.

The woman moaned, arching her back and digging into the mattress. The man's muscular body pressed into hers, causing both of them to groan in pleasure.

A rosy blush crept up to Buffy's cheeks. 'Porn. This is porn. Oh my God, Giles gets the Spice channel!' Buffy fumbled for the remote, desperate to turn to something more . . . appropriate. It slipped out of her grasp, however, the back popping open and the batteries falling out. She looked down and saw that they had rolled under the sofa. Perfect.

Spike grinned widely. "So this is what you were looking for! Always figured you were the kinky type."

Buffy got on all fours and stuck her hand under the couch, reaching for the lost batteries, trying desperately to ignore the sounds coming from the television behind her.

"Oooooooooooohhhh!"

The woman moaned rather loudly, and Buffy cringed. She didn't have to look up at Spike's face to know that he was loving this. She managed to find one battery, and stuck it into the empty slot. The second battery, however, wasn't under the sofa at all. Sighing, Buffy got to her feet.

"Spike, have you seen the other battery?"

"The battery for what, Slayer? Your vibrat -"

"Don't even think it!" Buffy blushed even harder, her cheeks a deep red. "The battery for the remote control. It's on the floor somewhere."

She searched the floor, scanning it with her eyes. Buffy looked around for a few minutes, sighing loudly. "Where the hell is it?"

Spike looked over at her with innocent eyes. "Wait, is this what you're looking for?"

He gave his foot a small kick and a battery rolled out from under his boot. Buffy glared at him, picking it up and shoving it into the remote, quickly flipping to a different channel.

"That wasn't funny."

"You're right . . . it was hilarious! You should've seen the look on your face . . ."

"I'm warning you, Spike, the next time you try something like that -"

"Wait, be quiet, 'Passions' is on!"

Buffy looked up at the vampire and saw he was transfixed by what was on the screen. She gave a small sigh of relief, sitting back down on the sofa. Hopefully he would decide to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the night.

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He didn't.

"I'm feelin' a bit peckish. Could you get me a cup of blood?"

"I've already fed you for tonight."

"No, you took away my dinner before I finished. I'm a guest, treat me as one."

Buffy smiled, reaching for the mug on the coffee table. She had forgotten to clean it out. "Fine, Spike, you can have the rest of the blood."

She brought it up to his face and he grimaced in disgust, turning his face away from it. "Ugh! It's cold and partially-coagulated!"

"What, now it's not good enough for you? Geez, give a guy what he wants . . ."

"Forget it." He sat back in his chair, glaring at the wall, giving her the silent treatment. Buffy sighed, turning the channel, seeing if Spike would react. He sat in the exact same position, ignoring her. She got up and went to the kitchen, fixing herself something to eat. Returning to the living room, she saw Spike looking over at her expectantly.

She set the chocolate chip cookies she had gotten for herself on the table, and brought the fresh blood to Spike's mouth wordlessly, bringing the straw up to his lips. He grinned, sucking up the liquid nourishment.

'She's such a softie.'

Buffy returned to 'Passions', watching Spike from the corner of her eye. He finished his blood quickly, releasing the straw. He looked over at Buffy, clearing his throat. She sighed, turning to him.

"What now? Too hot? Too cold? Too bland?"

He looked over at her with genuine gratitude. "Thanks."

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To be continued . . .

Part 3:

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Buffy sat on the sofa, staring at Spike. She was startled, to say the least. 'Did Spike just thank me for something? Maybe he was being sarcastic.' She blinked and examined his facial expression. 'He doesn't -look- like he's being sarcastic. He looks . . . grateful or something.'

Spike was looking at her now, one eyebrow raised quizzically. 'Wait, oh crap, I'm staring at him.'

"Um . . . you're welcome?"

He smiled, amused, and turned his attention to the television. Buffy looked down at the big plate of cookies on the table, thinking.

"Spike?"

"What is it, pet?"

She held up the plate warily. "Err . . . do you want a cookie? Blood must have a really nasty aftertaste, and there are too many for me to eat."

Spike looked over at her, confused. 'Why's she being so nice to me?' He looked at the cookies nervously. 'Maybe they're poisoned . . . or drugged. But I do love sweets . . .'

"What kind?"

She picked one up and took a large bite out of it. "Chocolate chip. Pretty good."

Spike's ears perked up when he heard what she'd said. 'Chocolate?'

"Pass one over here, then."

Buffy stuffed a cookie into his mouth, giggling.

"Mpmph bmph phew mwere mpst whmpt tmph dmph dhat." Spike mumbled as he tried to simultaneously talk and eat.

Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "What was that, Spike? Maybe you should speak up."

He swallowed, giving her a mock glare. "As I was saying, I bet you were just waiting to do that. Tempt the Big Bad with sweets and then try to choke him to death by shovin' it half way down his throat. Good thing for me vampires don't need to breathe."

Buffy snorted. "Yeah, right, six years as a Slayer and that's what I have to resort to; tying up evil fiends and choking them with cookies. Ooh, villains beware!"

Spike was about to retort when the doorbell rang. Buffy smirked.

"Spike, why don't you go hop over there and see who that is?"

He glared at her, and she got up from her comfortable seat. "Fine, fine, don't get it. Jeez, chivalry really is dead."

Buffy opened the front door to see Xander waiting on the front porch. He smiled when he saw Buffy.

"Xander? What are you doing here?"

"Didn't Giles remember to tell you? I'm here to relieve you of the burden of watching Spike. I told him to tell you I would be coming over later . . ."

Buffy slapped herself in the side of the head. "Right, right, I do remember that."

Xander grinned, looking proud of himself. "I didn't welsh or anything. I'm here, good old reliable Xander."

"Um, Xander, I really do appreciate this, but . . . I'm actually doing fine. You don't have to take over if you don't want to."

Xander looked at his friend as if she'd grown a second head.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. I mean, the party I wanted to go to is already over, and . . . the program I was watching isn't finished. It's just getting to the best part."

"Okay Buffy. Number one, it's only 10 o' clock. No college party ever gets out until at least one in the morning." Xander peered over her shoulder and into the house. "And number two, the program you're watching is an infomercial for . . . hair removal cream."

Buffy blushed for what seemed like the millionth time that night, flustered.

"Yeah, well . . . it happens to be that I'm running out of my . . . hair removal stuff, and - and they were just about to show the before and after pictures! I need to see if it's good enough for my . . . hair removing needs."

She grimaced inwardly, realizing how extremely lame her excuse sounded. Xander put a hand up to her forehead.

"Hmm, you don't feel hot," he said in a half joking manner. "Buff, what's going on?"

Buffy realized that she had to think up something semi-believable, and fast. There was no way she could ever tell Xander that she was actually . . . enjoying her time with Spike. He'd think she was possessed.

"Look, I just feel bad about taking away your time with Anya. You obviously care about her, and she cares about you too, but . . ." Buffy lowered her voice to a whisper. "We've been talking, and she told me that she's been feeling neglected lately. Saying that she feels you don't spend enough time with her."

Xander stared at her incredulously. "You and Anya have been talking? I didn't even know you two were friends!"

"Yes, well, we are. Very, very, close friends. But that's not the point. She's upset, and if I were you, I would go home and, um, comfort her. Show her a night out on the town."

Xander looked at Buffy again, shocked and grateful. "Thanks for telling me, I probably should go to her place, and . . . are you sure you don't mind taking over my shift?"

"Of course not. I just want to make sure everything works out fine for you two."

"Are you sure?"

Buffy shook her head, exasperated. "Xander . . ."

He smiled, grateful. "Thanks a million Buff, I really owe you one."

After he had left, Buffy closed the door with a sigh. She felt guilty that she had lied to Xander, but relieved that he had bought her excuse. She made her way back to the living room and plopped down on the sofa, grabbing another cookie. She was about to bite into it when she noticed Spike was staring at her.

"Why, Slayer. I didn't know you cared," he said, teasingly.

Buffy looked over at him, attempting a non-chalant expression.

"What do you mean?"

"You know; you, making up excuses to stay here with me a little longer. I'm touched."

"I wasn't making up excuses! I really have been talking to Anya . . ."

"Yeah, right, and I'm the bloody Queen Mother. Look, you're a horrible liar. He might not have fell for it, but I can see right through you." He paused. "So why'd you do it?"

She shrugged, faking a yawn. "I'm tired. That and I changed my mind about going out. It doesn't feel like a party night."

"I told you, Slayer, I can see right through you. Don't give me some bullshit answer; I want the truth."

Buffy looked over at him nervously, sighing in defeat. "Fine, to be perfectly honest . . . and if you let anyone know I told you this, you're dead . . . I - you haven't been such a pain in the ass lately. Tonight especially. I don't know what it is, but . . . I can stand to stay in the same room with you without wanting to rip your head off."

She looked over at him and studied his face, his eyes. 'He seems . . . I don't know, touched? This is too weird.'

He smiled lightly. "Feeling's mutual."

And so they sat, in amicable silence.

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To be continued . . .

Part 4:

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"I think I found it!"

Buffy looked up from the book she was reading. "Found what, Giles?"

"The spell! The, um, the truth spell."

"Why would you want a truth spell?"

"Don't you remember? For Spike, to see if he really is harmless. See, it's right here."

"So if it works . . . and he really -is-, um, impotent, does that mean that you're going to let him go? You know, untie him and release him into the wild?"

"Well, that was the plan. I'd really like to have my house back to myself again . . . free of bloodsucking fiends."

Buffy frowned. It had been one week since she'd last vampsat, so to speak, for Giles. And she had actually -enjoyed- her time with Spike, hard as that was to believe. She'd been reluctant to admit it to herself, but she was starting to think of him as somewhat of a friend. So the thought that Spike might leave Sunnydale troubled her.

"So . . . when are you planning to do this spell?"

Giles looked down at the book again, studying it. "Well, the supplies should take a few days to gather, but I reckon we could do it sometime next week; this week if we're lucky."

"Oh." Buffy said quietly. Giles peered up at her inquisitively.

"Buffy, what's wrong? I would have thought you'd be overjoyed."

"No, I'm fine, it's just . . . I'm tired. Didn't get much sleep last night, what with classes and patrolling and all."

"If you want, I could take over patrolling tonight."

"Oh, no, Giles. It would be too dangerous."

He shook his head. "Don't worry, I'd get Willow and Xander to come with me. I'm not some harmless old man, you know. Besides, I have plenty of weapons . . ."

"I don't know . . . if anything happened to you . . ."

Giles shook his head fervently. "Nothing would happen, and you deserve a night to relax." He frowned. "Oh . . .but then someone would have to watch over Spike for me."

Buffy's ears perked up. "Well, I could do it if you want me too. You guys could do the patrolling thing and I could stay in your house, watch TV or something."

"But Buffy, I couldn't ask you to . . ."

"It's no problem. Honestly, you would be doing all of the hard work, and I could just have a nice, quiet, relaxing evening. Besides, if Spike gets too annoying, I can always gag him with a sock!" She was only partially kidding.

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"You're cheating."

Buffy glanced up from her deck and smiled. "Can I help that you're so lousy at cards?"

"Yeah, well, see how good you are at poker when you're tied up to a chair."

"Well, that happens to be your own fault. Maybe if you weren't a violent killer we wouldn't have to take such precautions."

He ignored her, focusing on his hand. "I'll take 3 cards."

Buffy peered at the cards lying on his lap. "Err, which ones do you wanna discard?"

"The ones on the far left."

"Which left? Mine or yours?"

"Ugh! Forget it, I quit!" Spike growled in anger. "No one can play poker like this!"

Buffy picked up his cards and placed them on hers, returning them to the top of the deck. "You weren't complaining when you were winning."

"Yeah, well . . ."

Buffy sat up on the couch. "So, what do you want to play next? Monopoly? Scrabble? Twister?"

"No, I want to play the Quiet Game. Ever head of it?" He turned his head away from her, sulking.

"Someone's a sore loser."

Spike shifted in the seat, grimacing. "Yeah, well, I can't help it. These ropes chafe, you tied 'em too damn tight."

"Oh, right. You're just making up excuses."

"See for yourself."

Buffy got up and walked behind his chair, taking his bound wrists in her hands. She moved the rope to the side, gasping when she saw the marks they had left. The raw spots were a deep crimson and some were even bleeding. Buffy touched the sores gently, and Spike winced, attempting to pull his hands away.

"Ow! Bloody hell, Slayer!"

"These look pretty bad, Spike." She got up from the floor. "I'll be right back."

Buffy left the living room and made her way to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit. She then made her way to the basement and retrieved scissors and more rope.

She returned and set her supplies in back of Spike. Then she walked around to the front of the chair, giving him a no-nonsense glare.

"Spike, your wounds needed to be tended to, and I can't do that if you're still tied. I'm going to free your wrists . . ."

His face lit up. " . . . But if you try anything, I have a stake on hand, and I'm not afraid to use it."

Buffy moved behind the chair again, picking up the scissors. She took the ropes and gently placed them between the scissors, cutting slowly, not wanting to rub the twine against Spike's sensitive flesh.

She sawed through the rope and gingerly peeled it away, placing the bloodied material on the ground.

"They're free."

Spike moved his arms from behind his back and stretched, groaning. "God, that feels good. You know; you never appreciate freedom until you've been tied up to a chair for weeks. Trust me, it's not as nice as it sounds."

"Yeah, well, enjoy it for now, it's only temporary. After I fix your wrists, I have to tie you up again."

She pulled one of his hands closer to her for examination. She opened the first aid kit and removed the rubbing alcohol. She uncapped the lid and soaked a cotton ball with the solution. Buffy brought it up to Spike's wrist and he cringed, pulling away.

"What are you doing? You're not going to put that on me!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Spike, it's just rubbing alcohol. It'll help you heal faster. Now stop being such a big baby and give me your hand."

"But . . . it stings."

Buffy sighed, wrenching his hand towards her and dabbing at the sores lightly. Spike gave a yip and tried to pull away, his eyes watery with pain. Buffy finished cleaning the blood from the first hand, and dropped the cotton ball to the floor. She took the medical gauze next to her and wrapped his wrist, being careful not to pull it too tight. She picked up his second hand and did the same for it, Spike flinching every time the rubbing alcohol touched his open wounds.

Buffy pulled his hands out in front of him, examining her handiwork with a smile. "See? All better."

Spike looked down at his wrists, impressed. "You really did a quality job here, Slayer. Ever considered becoming a nurse?"

Buffy grinned. "Nah, I'm really more into helping mankind through death kinda girl. Besides, bandaging hands? Doesn't give you the same kind of adrenaline rush that a good kill does. Not that it isn't rewarding in and of itself . . ."

"Buffy." He reached out and grasped her warm hands into his. "Thank you. Really."

He looked up at her with soft, tender eyes. Spike started to lean towards her, and she found herself coming towards him as well. Her heart stopped in her throat.

'Is he going to kiss me?'

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To be continued . . .

Part 5:

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She gazed deep into his piercing eyes, letting herself get lost in their endless pools of blue. Buffy found herself drawing closer to him, her heart fluttering in excitement. She cocked her head to the side to accommodate him, and their lips brushed, just as the front door swung open. Xander, Willow, and Giles walked in, and Buffy could hear Spike curse under his breath. She pulled her hands from him and backed away, distraught, hoping that her friends hadn't seen them.

"And then I was all 'Eat this, bloodsucker!' and he was all 'poof'! I was so cool . . . except for the part where I fell and almost impaled myself on the stake, but still . . ." Willow rambled excitedly.

"Don't worry, Will, your coolness remains intact. Whereas my screaming and running away - not so much," Xander grumbled.

The Wiccan grinned. "I'm sure it was very manly screaming."

"Thanks . . . one more night like that and my tombstone will be sure to read: 'Xander Harris - Manly Screamer.'"

Willow plopped down on the couch. "Hey, Buffy. How'd the vegging go? Have fun?"

"Almost," Buffy muttered under her breath. She attempted a half-smile as she addressed her friend. "Not really. But it was relaxing . . . I feel saner already."

"Well I should hope so." Buffy turned to see Giles, who was working his way through a rather large glass of scotch. "I nearly got killed tonight, and I would like to think that my death would not have been in vain."

Buffy frowned. "I take it the patrolling didn't go so well?"

"Ignore them," Willow smiled proudly. "They're just grumpy 'cause they didn't get in on any of the slaying action. But me, on the other hand . . . I was kicking some serious undead booty."

"So how many vamps did you run into?"

"Two, I think," Willow said. "Pretty small number for a Saturday night."

"Yeah . . . weird."

"Maybe they were all down at the Blood Bank getting the early bird special!" Xander piped up.

"I don't think so," Buffy scoffed, "Blood banks aren't big on -trying- to attract vampires. I mean, why do you think they hang garlic on the doors?"

"That's garlic?" Willow queried. "I thought it was some kind of decorative wreath or something."

"Speaking of the evil dead, how's it going, Spike?" Xander said, as he patted the vampire on the back. "I'm surprised that Buffy didn't gag you . . . I know that's the first thing I would've done."

He glared at Xander, giving him a one-finger salute.

"Yeah, Spike, real original." Xander said, mockingly. "Maybe you finally managed to -" He stopped short when something finally dawned on him. "You - you're hands! They're free! Spike's hands are free!" Xander grabbed a stake from his jacket; the one he'd kept for patrolling.

"Xander, stop!" Buffy said, a tinge of hysteria in her voice. "It's okay . . . I - I untied him."

Everyone in the room turned to stare at her, shocked. Buffy looked around nervously, continuing. "So, um, he wasn't trying to escape or anything."

Spike gave her a look that he hoped portrayed his gratitude, and nodded his head. "S'right. So the next time you decide to jump to a conclusion, Harris, make sure I'm not around. I don't fancy having to spend the rest of eternity in an ashtray."

Xander ignored him; he was too busy gawking at Buffy. "Why - why did you free his hands? He could've killed you!"

She rolled her eyes. "Xander, honestly . . . the ropes around his wrists were digging into his skin, and I didn't want him to be uncomfortable."

His jaw hung slack. "But, wha- since when have you cared whether Spike was comfortable or not? He's tied up to a chair! It's not exactly the Ritz Carlton!"

Buffy looked down at the floor, blushing. "He was bleeding, and - besides, he's harmless. And I don't think he would've-"

"Buffy, we don't know if he lying or not; we won't know until we do the truth spell. You know that Spike isn't to be trusted . . . he's a ruthless, brutal monster that was-"

"Um, you know, he's sitting -right here-" Spike piped up. "Look, you need to lay off the girl. Slayer tries to do a nice thing, and you jump down her throat. C'mon, she's kicked my ass God knows how many times, and - and you think that my master plan is to wait until I'm good and vulnerable and -then- make my move? Please."

He paused, looking around the room before turning his attentions to Buffy. "Thanks for fixin' me up, luv." Spike gestured towards the rope on the ground. "You want to do the honors?"

"Um . . . sure."

Spike placed his hands behind the chair. "Could you try not tying 'em so tight this time? If you trust that I won't escape, that is . . ."

"O - okay," Buffy stammered, picking up the thick twine. She moved behind him and went about binding his wrists in a slow, methodical manner. She pulled the last knot on the rope and stood up. "That okay?"

"It's great, Slayer, thanks." He looked up at the other three. "Now, if you're gonna keep arguing, would you mind doing it in another room? There's a program coming on that I wanna watch, and it'd be hard to concentrate with all of the criticism flying back and forth."

"No, I'm quite done." Giles gave an exasperated sigh and made his way upstairs, retreating into his bedroom.

Willow looked at the ground, fidgeting. "I'm gonna go, too. Um . . . 'night Buffy."

She left, the front door slamming behind her; leaving in her wake a veil of awkward silence. Xander was still glaring at Spike, confused and upset.

"Xander -" Buffy started, but he stormed out of the house.

Buffy sat on the couch and cradled her head in her hands; her body shaking from what Spike figured was either sobs or laughter. When she was finally still, Spike spoke up.

"I'm sorry."

She looked up at him, her eyes red and watery. "What do you have to be sorry about? I shouldn't have untied you in the first place . . ."

"Don't talk that way! You were just doin' what you thought was right; your 'friends' had no right to be so damned judgmental . . . overreactin', they were. If I were you, I would-"

"Stop." Buffy interrupted. "Just . . . stop. I - I can't deal with this right now; the way I feel. I can't do this right now, all of this. It's wrong. I have to . . . go. I have to think, and . . . just go."

Spike's heart sank as she got up and strode out of the living room quickly, making her way to the door. Buffy paused, however, in front of it.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

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Part 6:

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Buffy twirled the plastic cord around her index finger, sighing. "Mmm hmm . . . sure, Giles. You want me to bring cloves, rosemary . . . are you sure you didn't accidentally read a recipe for spaghetti sauce?" She joked. "Yeah, um, okay. I'll be right over." She hung up the phone and made her way to the kitchen cupboard. Buffy spun the spice rack around until she found what she was looking for. She set the small jars on the counter, her thoughts drifting to Spike.

'After this . . . after we do the truth spell . . . everything will be different. If Spike's truly harmless, that is. If he's been lying . . . no, best not to think of that. Will he leave, I wonder? Probably . . . not like there's anything keeping him here, not like I'm giving him any reason to stay . . . especially after my little - emotional outburst last night.'

Buffy started to pace around the room, angrily. 'What gave them the right to interrupt like that, anyway? Haven't they ever heard of knocking?' *It's Giles' house . . .* a small voice in the back of her head reminded her. 'I wish Spike were here . . . he would know what to say to cheer me up. Spike! The truth spell!' She glanced up to the clock. 'Crap! I was supposed to be at Giles' ten minutes ago!'

Buffy grabbed her coat as well as the kitchen spices and headed out the front door, hoping that Giles wouldn't be too upset.

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Her hand hesitated over the door before Buffy finally gave a tentative knock.

"Err - anyone home? It's me, Buffy."

The front door swung wide open and she was suddenly face - to - face with a flustered Giles.

"Oh, Buffy, good. I just left a message on your machine; I was afraid you weren't going to come."

She gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I - um, we were out of cloves and I had to run to the grocery store."

"Well, as long as you're here . . ." Giles opened the door wider, realizing she was still on the front porch. "Come in, come in."

Buffy stepped inside the house, hanging her coat on the rack next to the door. She made her way into the living room, setting the jars on the coffee table.

"So, Giles, are we spell bound?"

"As soon as I get the supplies from my room, we can start." Her eyes followed him as he made his way up the stairs until he disappeared from her sight. Buffy turned to Spike, who was dozing in the chair next to her. Spike's head was slumped forward and his lips were parted slightly, a small trickle of drool spilling from the side of his mouth onto his black T- shirt.

She smiled at the sleeping vampire, enjoying seeing him so vulnerable. 'He looks so sweet and innocent.' Buffy leaned down and cupped his cheek with her hand in a gesture of affection. 'Wow, he has really smooth skin . . .'

"Buffy? Are you ready to start the spell?" Buffy's head jerked up as Giles came down the stairs.

"Um, yeah, sure."

She let her hand fall from Spike's cheek as she turned to face Giles. "So, what do we do?"

He studied the text in front of him. "You take these herbs," he gestured to the small pile of dried greens next to him, "And sprinkle them around Spike as I recite the incantation."

"That's so easy . . . it's like Truth Spells for Dummies." Buffy's eyes flicked over to the vampire in the chair. "Shouldn't he, um, be awake for this?"

"Hmm? Oh, for God's sake! Spike! Wake up!"

"What? What time is it?" Spike shifted and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, glancing at the clock angrily. "It's only 2 o' clock in the afternoon! You weren't supposed to wake me 'till six! Bloody hell, Rupert, you could have - Buffy." The anger in his voice melted away. "What are you doing here?"

"Giles needs me to help him with a spell he's doing."

He eyed her warily. "What kind of spell?"

"Umm . . . the truth kind."

"Truth spell? For me, I wager."

"Yeah, we have to find out it you're really neutered. He can't really trust you, so . . . he has to do the spell."

"Neutered? I'm not impotent, ya know. I prefer the term 'temporarily incapacitated'."

A grin spread across Buffy's face. "Incapacitated - hmm . . . no. I think neutered fits you to a T. I mean, you're like a harmless, fluffy, little kitten now."

He growled. "Watch it, Slayer, or I'll -"

"Spike? Little word of advice; the intimidation thing doesn't really work when you've got drool on your chin."

"Huh?" He reached down to wipe the saliva from his face, embarrassed. "Right then," he said, eager to change the subject. "Watcher? Is the spell ready?"

"It's been ready for the past five minutes . . . if you two will stop bickering for a moment, we can get this over with. Now, Buffy, retrieve the spices," Giles instructed, his eyes never leaving the book. "Now, I need you to walk counterclockwise around Spike, sprinkling the herbs around him in a circular pattern. Understood?"

"Gotcha."

He cleared his throat, signaling that he was about to begin. "Let your deceitful tongue be broken, let no untruths be spoken . . ."

'Blah blah blah,' Buffy thought as she walked around Spike, leaving a trail of spice. 'I wonder if it'll work? Wait - did Giles say clockwise or counterclockwise? I hope I'm doing this right - it's not like I'm magically inclined or anything. Why couldn't he just get Willow to do it?'

"Buffy! You can stop now . . ."

"Oh! Is it finished? Did it work?" She leaned towards Spike, examining him.

"With this particular spell, there's no way of telling, from the exterior, that is, if it has taken effect. There's only one way to find out."

Giles took a seat on the couch, turning to Spike. Buffy sat down next to her Watcher, intrigued.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"William LeFont, William the Bloody, Spike."

"How old are you?"

"One hundred and twenty-one." Spike was surprised at how the words seemed to flow from his mouth, out of his control.

"Where were you born?"

"London, England."

"When did you first arrive in Sunnydale?"

"Two years ago . . . nearly three. Look, are you gonna ask any questions about the chip, or do you just want my life story?"

Giles ignored him. "Why did you come here?"

"Two reasons - to get closer to the Hellmouth so Dru could heal, and to kill the Slayer."

"After you failed to kill Buffy, what did you do?"

"Brood, sulk . . . think up methods of revenge ending in her demise."

"Did you ever manage to get your revenge?"

"Hell, no. Slayer beat me down . . . and after that . . ."

"Yes? What happened then?"

"The soddin' chip happened. Damn soldier boys . . ."

"You are referring to the Initiative, I take it."

"Yeah . . . them and their underground lair; what their whole prod and probe experiments. It's sick, really."

"So, after you were chipped, how did you discover that you couldn't harm humans?"

"I went looking for Buffy at her dorm room; found her little friend, instead. Tried to bite her, of course, but the pain was too intense. Initiative goons came after me a second time, and I escaped . . . I went out looking for someone to eat, but it was the same with everyone I found. Shooting pains, anytime I tried to feed." He paused. "S'that all? Because I'd really like to catch up on my beauty sleep."

Giles looked up from the notes that he had been taking. "Yes, I believe so. Of course, I will need Willow to validate this information for me . . . and to make sure that the spell did, in fact, work."

He grabbed his jacket from the rack, draping it over one arm. "Buffy, I'm going down to the dorm to visit Willow . . . we'll be back in about fifteen minutes. Can you handle -"

"I'll be fine . . . Just a warning, though; you keep this up and I'm gonna start charging."

Giles smiled and opened the door, turning to leave.

"How long does it last?"

"Hmm?"

"The truth spell, Giles. How long does it last?"

He spun around to face Buffy. "Well, it depends, really. Anywhere from twenty minutes to a whole day . . . the book is rather vague. Um, why do you want to know?"

"Oh . . . nothing."

Buffy smirked, fighting the urge to start cackling like a madwoman. This was going to be fun.

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Part 7:

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The front door clicked shut as Giles left the residence, heading for Sunnydale University. Buffy entered the living room and, after making sure that she and Spike were alone in the house, set to work.

She sat down on the couch and picked up the remote, turning on the TV and flipping channels. She waited for what she knew was coming.

"I thought we already went through this, Slayer! Just pick something!"

Buffy glanced over at the annoyed vampire and grinned slyly. "What would you like me to turn to, Spike? The Spice Channel?"

"That'd be nice." His eyes widened comically at the realization of what he'd said.

"Really? Well then, I'll just give you some alone time with your porn." Buffy picked herself up off the couch as if she was going to leave the room.

"No, I want you to stay. I . . . I like spending time with you." He shook his head in frustration. "That's not what I meant to say!"

Buffy sat back down, attempting to keep the surprise from her face. 'He likes spending time with me?'

"I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you . . . haven't hated you as of late."

'This is just too weird.' Buffy blushed, wanting to change the subject.

"What were you like as a human?"

"Well, I guess you could say I was -" he stopped short of his answer. "Oh, no . . . the spell!" Spike glared at Buffy. "You can't do this!"

"What's stopping me?"

"It's an invasion of privacy! I'd like to think that you have more respect for me than -"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Please, Spike. If I was under a truth spell, wouldn't you do the exact same thing to me?"

"Well, of course." He clenched his eyes shut, his anger obvious. "Dammit!"

She cleared her throat. "As I was -saying-, before you so rudely interrupted; what were you like as a human?"

Spike bit his lip, desperate to keep himself from spilling the information. 'She can't find out - I'd never live it down! I can do this . . . if I have strong enough willpower, I can keep myself from talking.'

"Spike! Answer the question!"

He bit down harder, drawing blood, attempting to swallow the words that were on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't hold it in, however, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"I was a poet! An utter loser looked down on by the upper class. I was a joke - a hopeless bookworm of a nancy boy! There, are you happy?!"

Buffy's looked down to the floor, making it impossible for Spike to judge her reaction.

"A poet?"

She started to chuckle. "Spike, you were a poet?" she repeated, doubling over with laughter. "Spike . . . the Big Bad . . . a poet!" Buffy managed to gasp out in-between laughs, clutching her aching stomach.

"Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, Slayer. Wasn't so funny from my vantage point."

Buffy sniffed and wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. She glanced up at Spike, looking guilty. "I'm sorry. It's just -" She gave another giggle and Spike could tell that she wasn't sorry at all.

"I can't see it; you a poet, with the bleached hair and the leather." She smiled devilishly. "Do you still write poetry?"

"What? No!"

"Why not?"

"B-because it would . . . I'm not good at it. Besides, too many painful memories."

"Painful? Why would your memories be painful? Your poetry can't have been that bad."

Spike grinned wryly. "It -was- that bad. Anyone that tries to rhyme 'effulgent' with 'bulge in it', well -"

She chuckled. "Effulgent? Is that even a word?"

"Of course it's a -word-," Spike snorted with contempt. "It means glowing."

Buffy held her hand to her cheek in mock horror. "Oh, don't let me offend you with me ignorance, oh great poet! Please, continue to astound me with your amazing vocabulary skills!"

"Hey, don't blame me. Some of us have finished college."

Buffy glared. "And some of us aren't tied to a chair in a very vulnerable, possibly dusty position."

"Like you would," Spike scoffed.

"Try me."

He rolled his eyes. "I can't, Slayer. I've got this bloody chip in my head."

"Excuses, excuses. You couldn't beat me even if you tried. You never could."

Spike shrugged; as best one can shrug when they're tied up. "True, that."

"Would you, though?"

"Would I what?"

"Attack me if you got the chip out? I mean, would you try to kill me?"

"Of course not! I could never do that . . . I couldn't."

Buffy looked over at him, surprised. "Why not?"

"Because I love you."

Her face paled, and she put her hand up to her mouth in shock. "What?" Buffy whispered.

"I - I think . . . I think I'm in love with you, Buffy."

"No . . ." Buffy whispered, standing quickly, backing up slowly to the front door. "You can't. You're lying!"

"Truth spell, luv. Can't lie." He said, sounding a bit ashamed.

"I - I - I have to go." She turned and bolted for the door, slamming it behind her on the way out.

"Come back, Buffy! Buffy!"

Spike sighed, hanging his head in defeat.

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Part 8: