"In Love"
Author: Ellie
Feedback: Yes, please: ellie242@excite.com
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are copyright of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Twentieth Century Fox Entertainment
Rating: Nothing more than the show
Summary: Buffy and Spike have a heart to heart, and learn about love
Author's Note: This fiction carries on where season five's "Fool For Love" left off

********

Closing the kitchen door behind her, Buffy stepped out into the cool, damp night. The moon shone overhead, casting the garden in an eerie yellow light. Slowly, she made her way across the deck, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to stop from shaking.

By the time she reached the top step, tears had begun to sting her eyes, and, resignedly, she sat down. Leaning her head on her knees, sobs wracked the Slayer's body, making her chest sore with a dull ache. She was unaware of the rustle in the bushes that lined the garden. Of the figure that emerged from them, rifle in hand.


On the way over to the Summer's house from his crypt, Spike had psyched himself up for the kill. This would be the third Slayer he had defeated, and he would enjoy it as much as the incident during the Boxer Rebellion with the Chinese girl, or the girl on the subway train. Even though he would suffer from the implant in his brain. It would be worth it.

With the stance of a man going to war, Spike crossed the lush green lawn to where the Slayer sat. Her head was down; she wouldn't see him approach. Perfect.


A soft 'click' attracted Buffy's attention, and she lifted her head. Spike stood before her, a loaded rifle in his hands. He had come to kill her.

"What do you want now?" she asked, anger sparkling in her stormy eyes.

Spike frowned, realising that the Slayer was upset. Thoughts rushed into his head: did he kill her, or did he drop the rifle and comfort her? He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. What if he said the wrong thing? He had never had to deal with a crying Slayer before - in the past, they were dead before they had the chance to utter a single whimper.

"What's wrong?" he asked, standing tall. The last thing he wanted was for the Slayer to think he cared.

Buffy's gaze shifted from studying Spike's face to looking off at some invisible point at the end of the garden. "I don't want to talk about it," she said. The truth was, she did. Just not with him.

She wanted Riley, or Willow, or Xander. Or even Giles. Not some impotent vampire who got his thrills from killing fellow demons rather than humans.

Spike lowered his gun, his heart taking control of his brain. "Is there something I can do?"

Buffy didn't reply. She didn't even shift away when Spike sat down on the step beside her and placed a gentle hand on her back, patting it awkwardly. He must have been expecting her to move away, to save himself from embarrassment, because when she didn't, he lowered his hand and rested it on his knee.

Buffy continued to gaze off into the distance as she thought over her life. She could feel Spike's glance touch her to the bone, but she didn't want to turn her head. Didn't want to accept the way she felt for him.

******

Silently, they sat next to each other until the sun turned the pre-dawn sky a dusty orange. Glancing up at the sky, Spike knew he had to go, that he was getting very close to becoming a pile of dust. But going home meant that he would have time to think about his unnatural feelings for the Slayer. It also meant that he would have to put up with Harmony's incessant whining. He should never have sired her. It was like living in Hell. Only worse.

Standing, Spike picked up the rifle from its position on the deck, and opened the barrel. With a sigh, he emptied the rounds into his hands, and threw them as hard as he could, over the bushes that lined the bottom of the garden. The smash of breaking glass indicated that he had hit the glasshouse in the garden next door.

Buffy looked up, as though the sound had awoken her from a deep sleep. Dark rings circled her eyes, and her cheeks were red and tear stained. Spike turned to face her.

"I guess I better go," he said, gesturing to the east with the rifle.

Buffy nodded, standing. She pulled at the sleeves of her pullover so that they covered her cold hands. She shivered, realising for the first time how cold she was.

"Thanks," she said, moving down the steps to where Spike stood in the middle of the lawn. "For, you know, not talking."

Confused, Spike smiled softly. "Anytime, love," he said, placing the redundant weapon on the ground. He moved forward, closing the gap between them, and took hold of Buffy's hands. Gently, he began to rub them in an attempt to warm them, despite the fact that his own skin was just as icy cold.

Buffy watched Spike with intense interest. "Why?" she asked, trying to see through the façade that the vampire had placed over himself.

Spike frowned. "Why what?"

"Why didn't you kill me? You had the perfect opportunity, yet you let it pass without so much as a complaint."

Spike's hands moved from the young woman's hands to her arms, he held them in a loose grip. "To be honest, I don't know," he replied sincerely. "I was determined that I was going to do it. After what you said behind the Bronze, about me being below you, I was angry."

Buffy sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "About what I said. I didn't mean it." She rolled her eyes at the vampire's glance. "Okay, at that moment, I did. But I take it back." She looked down at the grass beneath them. "I'm truly sorry."

Spike smiled. "Thanks. But I doubt that the reason you were sat out here all night was because you were trying to find a way to apologise to me." He paused, not letting go of the Slayer's arms. "What's wrong?"

Buffy looked up at the sky, which was turning a deeper shade of orange as the minutes pass. "Come on. I'll tell you inside."

******

Inside the comfort and warmth of the spacious kitchen, Buffy pulled the blinds down over the windows to keep the sun from shining in while Spike got comfortable on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. She filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove before taking a seat opposite Spike. For a moment, they sat in silence, trying to avoid each other's gaze. Spike tapped his fingers on top of the counter in some kind of odd rhythm while Buffy placed her hands in her lap and looked down at them. It was Spike who broke the silence.

"What you said in the alley, it didn't really upset me," he said, indifferently.

Buffy looked up. "You don't make a good liar, Spike."

The blond vampire shrugged. "Okay, so it ripped me apart in side. It made me so angry that I wanted to kill you."

"Why?" Buffy asked.

"Why did it make me angry? Because you made me remember my past. The life I had before I became what I am now. You made me remember how worthless I was as a human."

The gentle whistle of the kettle cut through the momentary silence, and Buffy rose, taking mugs from the cupboard and teabags from the canister on the counter. She turned the stove off, all the time keeping her back to Spike.

"But why did what I said bother you so much? We're enemies." Buffy stirred the tea, concentrating on each turn of the spoon in the mug.

Spike shrugged, despite the fact that Buffy wasn't watching. "Maybe it's because I like you, Slayer. You've got guts, style. Not like the ones before you."

Buffy returned to the breakfast bar and set a mug in front of Spike, holding her own in both hands as she settled onto the stool. "Want to know why I was upset?" she asked. Maybe talking to someone would help. Even if it was Spike.

Spike nodded, taking a sip of his tea, despite the fact that he despised the taste.

"It's my mom," she said, placing the mug on the counter. She rubbed her hands together, then placed them in her lap. "She's sick. Last night, she went to the hospital for a scan. The doctors don't know what's wrong." Lifting a hand, she rubbed at her eyes, as if it was going to stop the tears from falling.

"It might be nothing," Spike said, although it didn't sound as optimistic as he hoped.

Buffy smiled weakly. "Thanks," she said, lifting the mug of tea to her mouth and taking a sip. "It's just, what if it is something? What if it's serious?" Standing, she walked over to the window. Although she couldn't see out, she needed to escape Spike's searching glances that were making her uncomfortable.

Spike stood, walking over to Buffy, placing his hands on her shoulders. Last night, his touch had been awkward and wary. Now it was relaxed and friendly. He felt the Slayer's body rack with sobs, and he tightened his grip slightly to try and steady her.

"It used to be so simple," she said. "Me, Willow and Xander would be high school students during the day, and slay at night. Then Angel would come along, we'd hang out, and then I'd go home to mom. Now what do I have? A boyfriend on the verge of a heart attack, my mom's ill, and my friends are too involved in their personal lives to even call." She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, letting Spike spin her around to face him.

"Yeah? Things change. Look at Dru and me. Thought we were going to be together for eternity. Then she went and found herself someone else. Left me to watch while she got all lovey-dovey with that...thing!" On impulse, he extended his hand and gently wiped the tears from Buffy's cheeks. "But you know what? I got over it. I found my feet. Got me another woman. Granted, she's a royal pain, but she's company. Maybe that's all Commando Boy is: company until something better comes along."

Buffy closed her eyes, enjoying Spike's gentle touch as he stroked her cheeks. What if Spike was right? Maybe, someday, she would find someone she loved as much as Angel. Or maybe she had found him.

Spike stopped stroking Buffy's cheeks, and, instead, stood staring at her, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Buffy opened her eyes.

"What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Spike's smile grew. "Do you realise this is the first time we've actually talked without fighting?" He moved in closer to Buffy, half of him wanting to kiss her, half of him not wanting to touch her for fear of breaking her.

Buffy returned the vampire's smile, all thoughts of her mom, her friends, Riley, and Angel gone. "Maybe things really do change," she replied, letting her body touch Spikes. He leaned in, taking time to breathe in her scent, not taking his eyes off hers.

They didn't hear the opening front door or the footsteps approaching the kitchen until they heard a voice call out, "Buffy? Are you awake?"

Spike pulled away from Buffy, backing towards the breakfast bar as Dawn entered the kitchen, carrying a rucksack on her shoulder.

Buffy frowned and looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. Seven thirty. "What are you doing here?" she asked, slightly annoyed, maybe even relieved.

"I live here," Dawn replied, sarcastically as she dropped her bag on the floor and made her way towards the fridge. She stopped when she saw Spike. "What's he doing here?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Believe me, if it wasn't for the fact that I've got a girl back home, I'd have been out that door as soon as the sun rose."

Dawn frowned. "Whatever." She turned to Buffy, her hands on her hips. "Well?"

"We were talking, it got late, and I had to invite him inside to stop him bursting into flames."
Dawn frowned. "You hate the guy. Why didn't you just let him die?"

Spike stood behind Dawn and smiled, enjoying the Slayer's predicament. "Yeah, Slayer. Why didn't you just let me 'die'?"

Buffy glared at Spike, who simply shrugged. "I thought you were staying at Miranda's," Buffy demanded.

Dawn opened the fridge, and stuck her head in, searching the back of the shelves. "Yeah, she got sick. Started throwing up all over, so I came home. It was so gross. You know how, when you throw up you -."

"Thanks, Dawn," Buffy interjected. "Why don't you go upstairs?"

Dawn emerged from the fridge, a carton of yoghurt in her hand. She grabbed a spoon and headed out of the kitchen. Buffy was surprised that, for once, her sister hadn't complained.

"That was close," she breathed. "You realise that could have been Riley."

Spike shrugged and crossed the kitchen. "Where were we?" he asked, wrapping his arms around the Slayer's waist.

Buffy smiled, moving closer. "About here, I'd say," she replied, before kissing him gently on the mouth. He responded softly, pulling her closer to him. Thoughts rushed through each one's mind - Buffy had Riley, Spike had Harmony. They were supposed to be enemies, but right now, all Buffy could think of was how much she needed Spike.

Pulling away, Buffy looked up at Spike. "Now what?" she asked, putting her hands on Spike's arms.

"Now, we decide where this leaves us," he replied, not wanting to let Buffy go. "I mean, you have Commando Boy, I have Harmony."

"What about them?" Buffy asked. "You don't love Harmony. You said as much yourself. And, well, Riley... It's like you said: he's company until someone better comes along."

Spike smiled. "And you think I'm better?" he asked with surprise.

Buffy returned the smile, nodding her head. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"Not to sound like I'm enjoying this, but you don't know how glad I am to hear you say that." He shook his head. "Now, I gotta get me some blood before I die of thirst. Again."

Buffy watched with love in her eyes as Spike opened the fridge, searching through the shelves for anything that he thought would quench his thirst.

Maybe she had finally found someone she truly loved. Only time would tell, and she had plenty of that. She was willing to take it one day at a time, to see where they ended up. Hopefully, it would be right where they wanted to be. In love.


THE END