Friends (Or More)
By Sweetprincipale
A sequel to Warming Up to New Things, please read that first. Buffy and Spike embark on their odd experiment of being less than enemies, and possibly even friends. Tired of hurting each other, tired of being hurt by others, they decide to see if a simple friendship would work out. It goes surprisingly well, leaving them to wonder just how far beyond friends they might go.
All due credit to The Greg Kihn Band for use of their song "The Break Up Song." I highly recommend listening to it at the pertinent
section.
Part I
"You don't look great."
"Neither do you," Spike returned, arms crossing defensively.
"I have thirteen hours of homework to do in 48 hours," Buffy rubbed the dark circles under her eyes. "Procrastination is so not a virtue. Plus slaying. What's your excuse?"
"Not eatin' like normal. Do I look peaky? Can't see myself, so it's hard to tell,"
"You look paler than normal. Your eyes look sunken. Cheeks, too. I'm sorry. Is this-"
"Your fault?"
"Yeah."
"No," he shook his head. "I wasn't killin' last week."
"That's good. I mean, not good for your health, but- good for the people," Buffy felt a confusing sensation nudging her brain. She was delighted that Spike wasn't killing. That would have been the end of the "friendship" attempt. She was also worried. Her friend wasn't eating enough, and looked sick. "What can we do?"
Spike hesitated. He hadn't thought of asking her for help. He hadn't thought of even discussing this issue with her in any capacity. "I'll figure it out."
"I'll help you," she said quickly. "Giles said demon activity is down around campus. Heading to the outskirts," Buffy counted three stakes in each jacket pocket and her wallet in a zippered interior pocket. She made sure she had at least a twenty in there. Last time Spike picked up her drink tab and she paid for cocoa. But if they were friends and this was semi- dating she had no idea who was going to offer to pay for what and she wanted to be prepared.
"I haven't seen some of my old pals about town, either. That could be 'cause everyone I knew realized what we did last year."
"Year and a half almost," Buffy mused as they began to walk. They'd made a truce. He helped her with the Angelus situation. He wanted Dru back. Wanted Dru back after everything, and now…
Spike must have been having the same thoughts, "No word from him?"
"None. Her?"
"No. She uh- she said I taste like ashes."
"Quitting smoking helps that."
"It's a metaphor, you twit," Spike snapped and lit one up anyway, companion with working lungs or not. He was hungry and edgy, and suddenly heading toward depressed. "When I did the deal with you and she woke up after I got her away from Acathla, she said I was tainted by you. I helped you and turned on her and Angelus, my 'true' family."
"Not much 'true' in those two, sadly," Buffy muttered, also falling into the same dark state as the man beside her.
"Had another chance, that little reunion of ours, for a few days. You know how that went. Worked with you again, letting you go," Spike coughed awkwardly and looked at the dark blue sky, "She said she couldn't find me anymore. Just the ashes of who I used to be to her, what we used to be together. Then torching the place. Ashes and ashes, you see. I didn't have much appetite after that."
"Even when you want to move on to something better, it still hurts," Buffy lightly touched his arm.
Better? Is this better? Bein' with this girl, this annoyin' human girl who wants me to play nice, who isn't givin' me much in the way of return- except her friendship. Loyalty. Time. Chances.
"Do you think this is better, Slayer?" he asked, stopping on the corner of a poorly lit sidewalk.
Being with Spike on patrol. Annoying, loud, soulless, "evil and proud of it" Spike. Spike, who wouldn't leave if things got tough. Spike who is who he is, and doesn't shut you out. Spike who keeps coming back, willing to be friends, to try again, even if we have the longest odds in the world- while Angel just leaves to "protect us" from himself, his curse, who just leaves and doesn't care if I ask him to stay… Spike who listens.
Spike who makes me laugh, even when I don't want to.
"I think it's actually- in a very weird way- healthier. I don't know about better," she finally conceded.
"I was thinkin' that, too. Probably be less painful," he nodded thoughtfully.
"Sure, if we stop beating each other up," Buffy rationalized.
"I thought we said we might do a bit of friendly fightin'," Spike reminded her.
"To first blood only!"
Spike huffed. "Don't mention blood, I'm starvin'."
Whereas he'd stopped before, now she was the one suddenly frozen in place. "Starving?"
Aww, look at her. Eyes wide and worried. Although if she was really concerned, she'd let me have a little nibble. The taste of her lips against his suddenly forced images of other kinds of nibbling to the front of his mind. "Not starving, literally. Peckish. Keep walking or we'll never get to the cafe before they shut."
With a sudden extra hustle in her step, she caught up to him, then cleared him, doubled the length of space between them.
"Oi!"
"Come on! You can keep up!" Buffy thought this would challenge him, in a non-blood way. But it also might make him more tired. He's weaker. You're not being thoughtful. I know it's a weird concept, but try it. "Wait, that was dumb of me-" she turned to address him, only to be half-knocked over as a tornado in black leather brushed past her, laughing, smoke still streaming from his ivory lips as they smirked.
Sexy vamp.
Oh, stop. "Hey!"
"Catch up to me," he mimicked her voice, up an octave from his own as he continued to outdistance her.
"First one to the cemetery gates buys?" she asked, mentally planning not to use all of her speed, just to keep things balanced, considering his condition.
"Buys the first round, anyway," he called back, surprised to see her already within arm's reach. We're well matched, her and I. Physically.
He watched her bounding, bust bouncing, blonde hair flowing and rippling back in the breeze she made with her own speed. Physically indeed.
Oh, stop!
For a few minutes, they passed the lead back and forth, laughing and taunting, and not caring. "I'm gonna get you, Blondie!" Spike suddenly switched to a more menacing tone of voice, a little growl, just out of adrenaline.
Something hit him hard, like a shit-ton of bricks, electrified bricks, and he went down with a painful gasp.
Buffy heard the thud and whirled in time to see three men, all in black approaching her "date." Fear, unfamiliar fear, fear for Spike, not fear of him or related to his threats, suddenly attacked her. "Hey! Back off! Leave him alone!" Buffy growled and turned with superhuman speed.
"Another HST, Finn!"
"Buffy, move!" Spike made a feeble attempt to sit up and managed to make it halfway.
"Hold! Hold your fire!" One of the men was suddenly waving his arms frantically and stepping between the woman and the other two men.
"Let him up! What'd you do my- friend?" Buffy pushed past the black-suited man.
"We thought you were being chased, ma'am, I mean, Miss," the leader spoke from under a black tactical mask and night vision goggles.
"So, there's a group of vigilantes roaming Sunnydale?" Buffy huffed and hauled SPike to his feet, letting him lean on her, rubbing his bruised ribs. "Also- Riley Finn? From Professor Walsh's class? Is that you under there?"
With a sudden move, one of the other men threw something at the ground. There was smoke and light, and Buffy felt her eyes stinging like angry wasps had attacked them. She found herself pulled under Spike's heavy coat, drawn to his chest and taken down to the ground, buried under him as he shielded her living lungs and eyes from the worst of it. When the smoke cleared in a few moments, the men were gone.
"You made him, Slayer. Blew his cover," Spike uncurled from around her. Both of them stared into the night, red eyed, coughing and panting. "That explains less demon activity. Vigilante boys are blasting them. Got me in the ribs good, some sort of suped up cattle prod." He rolled up his shirt, trying to see the bruises he could feel.
Buffy looked at the huge blue-black welts on his side, one of which was bleeding. "I'm so sorry. It was a dumb game to play," she paused, wanting to reach for him, but not sure if she should. Would it hurt? Would it make things more awkward?
"I bet they're still watching us," he moved closer, lips coming to her ear. "You think they knew what I was?"
"I don't know. But they know you're my friend. They shouldn't mess with you, or they'll have to mess with me, too!" Buffy cried, loudly, making sure any stragglers heard her.
"Let's go, Luv," Spike peered at her eyes, still streaming. "You okay?"
"Annoyed. And I have soooo many questions for Riley Finn on Monday afternoon."
Riley turned to Leland and Forrest. "Cover's blown. She knew me."
"She can't be positive."
"Trust me, that was Buffy Summers. She's in my class and I've uh- I talked to her a few times a couple weeks ago, and her roommate, too." Riley took off his mask as they left. "She's human." He held up a device. "All human, no HST readings. But she's protecting him, a vamp if I ever saw one."
"Hey, he protected her, too," Leland mentioned. "He pulled her under his coat, was a human shield. Vamp shield," he corrected, frowning.
"Only good vamp is a dead vamp," Forrest said harshly.
Riley wasn't so sure. From the look Leland gave him, he also had doubts. "You know, Walsh was just saying that she thought this place had way more demon activity. The numbers have been way lower than we thought. Even before we started patrols. It's like, there is something here that knows about demons and is fighting them. Do you think…?"
"It could be those two?" Leland shook his head. "Although, they were pretty fast. They also recovered from the tear gas in three minutes flat. That's not typical."
"Walsh is putting it to the company at the Monday morning briefing. Cleveland or Sunnydale. I think it makes sense to leave town. For a couple of reasons," Finn shook his head. "This was a very strange patrol."
"That was a mega weird patrol," Buffy threw aside a splintered stake.
Spike flashed a handful of cash at her. "But lucrative."
"Where'd you get that?"
"The guy you dusted dropped it durin' the fight. Sorry I wasn't more help."
"I think the two you took out before I even got off my back was helpful enough," she stretched and arched her back until it cracked back into place. "Must've been a former wrestler."
"Is it cocoa time yet?" Spike felt irritated and sore. He also felt like a priss, asking for cocoa, which was what they'd agreed on and all, and he knew once they got there that it would be delicious and they'd have a good time, etc. etc. Just this night had gotten him in a different sort of mood. More like the whiskey and blood mood, not the cocoa and giggles mood.
Don't eff this up. Relax.
"This was a rotten 'date,'" Buffy looked at him regretfully. "My hair is a mess, my TA is shady, my eyes hurt, and you're hurt, and … yeah. I guess I'm seeing why some guys might choose the one date option around me."
"Tomorrow night? Same time, same station?" Spike asked with a crooked smile, blurting it out as naturally as releasing smoke after a long drag. He had to let her know, before the thoughts took root, that he wasn't the one date kind. Not the kind to be put off by one rough evening.
"I don't- I mean- really?" Buffy stumbled over her reply, but in a pleased way.
"Slayer, reflect a moment," Spike said posh words in his thickest East End snarl."Thick of all the utter hell we've seen each other in. That we've caused each other. Sore ribs, mussed hair, and itchy eyes aren't much of an inconvenience. Are they?"
"Not in the big picture way. I guess the fact that we're trying to be friends in any capacity is a huge deal. Bigger than little problems."
"We're very buggered up people when we consider vigilantes with tear gas and tasers minor," Spike chuckled, and she joined in. They fell into step, and hesitantly, he opened his arm and she slid under it. "I like being with you, Slayer," he said softly. As soon as he'd said it, he really wanted to take it back. His chest felt tight and it throbbed. He wanted to be honest, yes. No more lies. But no more getting hurt. No more being stupid.
This whole thing has risks, this whole thing is dumb. I wish I could-
"I like being with you, too," Buffy whispered, feeling cold as the words left her. She meant them. And that scared her. It scared her that they might- do things. Say things that would make it impossible to safeguard her heart. "I don't think I want to stop at the coffee shop, though."
"Yeah, it's been a long shift," he tried to hide his disappointment.
"I think I might like something stronger. But not really strong."
"Daquiri?"
"Doesn't that have rum?"
"Virgin ones don't."
"I don't really drink," Buffy admitted.
"I thought not," he nodded. "But I do. I could murder a whiskey. You want a coke with a little splash of something?"
"Just the coke. And a place where I don't have to be quiet."
My new digs, Spike thought. She could be loud as she wanted, I wouldn't complain. He pictured several delightful ways of making her scream his name. "What's that club you like? The Bronze?"
"Let's go," Buffy laced her fingers through his. People I know will see me there. With Spike.
I don't care right now.
The bar counter was full, so they took a seat at the high top table in the balcony. Buffy waved at a few casual acquaintances. But it really was a date, supposed to be for the two of them, not anyone else. She wasn't there to avoid talking to Spike. She just wanted to talk to him at a louder volume. "You don't dance, right?"
Images of his human life assailed him. He'd been a passable dancer back then, and after Drusilla, a magnificent one with her in his arms. But the dances of his day were the waltz, the minuette, several others that she would laugh herself sick over. "Not lately."
They sipped in silence. Then he drained the whole shot in one go and stood. "You could teach me the new moves, I s'pose."
"You're hurt. And we're tired. We don't need to, I just wondered." Buffy answered honestly, taking his hand to make him sit.
"You wonder if I can dance?" he arched one brow.
"Well, don't you ever wonder stuff about me?" Buffy demanded. They both blushed. "More whiskey? I'll get this round," she didn't wait for his answer before disappearing.
I wonder if we could do this for more than a week. I wonder if this week I should go for it all, 'cause after that, it'll run its course, we'll be done. I wonder if I could just wait, and be patient, if this thing could go the distance. "Yeah, I wonder things, Slayer."
Buffy returned and set his drink in front of him, as well as a basket of fries. "Hungry? Sorry, dumb question. Oh, I have an idea. The college lab? They have blood sometimes. We could get it from there."
"Break into your college lab an' get caught, get kicked out? I've got a bit of cash now. I'll call at the butcher's in the morning."
"Until then?"
"I'll be fine," he said firmly, but though he might sound harsh, wanting her to drop it, he was touched. "I'm not too tired to dance- up here. Down in that ocen of drunken college kids with no sense of balance- I'm not up for that," he snorted down at the sea of sweating, pulsing, gyrating figures, some of them clawing and pawing each other, a sea of blood and hormones in living packages. His demon needed a distraction, not further temptation. Of course, Buffy might fit into both categories.
Buffy looked around. There were two other groups up in the second floor area, a spooning, cooing couple who were kissing and hand-holding, and a group of guys with cards and shots. Neither group seemed remotely interested in them. "I never pictured us dancing together," Buffy admitted. "Just wondered if you did. Angel and I- always the slow dances. Never exactly fun. Always some pain under it."
Spike put out a hand and stood. "Dru and I- always dancing. All the dances, slow, fast… but she wasn't picky about who she danced with next. Hard to watch the love of you existence twirl off with her "Dear Daddy", all smiled and then find them in the corner and-" his hand closed into a fist before she took it. "No, Slayer," he growled, "never pictured us dancin' together, but wouldn't mind if we tried. Promise not to make you sad during, or after."
"Deal," Buffy was sickened by the thoughts of what he'd just said. Dru and Angel. Angelus. It was starting to lose meaning, the differentiation between their names. Both of them hurt.
"This song's a bit slow," Spike hesitated as the speakers pumped out something smooth and sexy.
"It's ending," Buffy couldn't get her eyes to line up with his. They would find his and they'd skitter away, both of them trying to find a position that they could tolerate. He took her hand, and put the other on her waist, and she tried to put both of hers on the lapels of his leather jacket. They laughed at their awkwardness and exchanged a smile as a pounding guitar riff started.
"This sounds like our kind of song," Buffy's head started bobbing before she could stop it.
"Fast, not too fast. Hard, just hard enough," he agreed, and his shoulders were swaying with her beat.
We had broken up for good just an hour before
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ah
"Really is," Buffy raised her eyebrows.
And now I'm staring at the bodies as they're dancing 'cross the floor
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ah
And then the band slowed the tempo and the music took me down
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ah
It was the same old song, with a melancholy sound
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ah
They shared a smile. "A song for the broken up, the broken hearted- who still keep fightin'."
They don't write 'em like that anymore
They just don't write 'em like that anymore
This was easy. This was better than fighting, in a way. She slid her hands up his arms, and to her surprise, up to his neck, pulling them close. A flicker of something in his eyes, met in hers, before the fire faded to a steady heat.
We'd been living together for a million years
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ah
He shuddered pleasurably as they worked together, her hands taking him out of his duster, strong, soft hands that seemed to have no trouble hitting every nerve ending of his neck and shoulder as his arms rolled back under her touch, jacket sliding down. He let the coat slide off, catching it one handed and put right back on the chair without turning around. "Vampire reflexes," he winked.
But now it feels so strange out in the atmospheres
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ah
And then the jukebox plays a song I used to know
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ah
And now I'm staring at the bodies as they're dancing so slow
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ah
One minute she was facing him, the next minute she was against him, back to chest, hands mingling and tangling together at her waist as she looked back at him saucily, flirting but not seducing. "Slayer reflexes." They laughed together, dancing to an upbeat song about the worst pains they'd ever experienced, getting over them with an old enemy and a new friend.
They don't write 'em like that anymore
They don't write 'em like that anymore
Oh
"They don't make 'em like you," Spike whispered in her ear, his head dropping down low to hers. "Been around a century, pushing two. They never…" Words stopped.
She turned, arms now winding around his neck. The dance wasn't slow, but bodies slowed down. His hand came to rest on her hips.
Hey
Now I wind up staring at an empty glass
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ah
'Cause it's so easy to say that you'll forget your past
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah ah
It would be easy to forget everything in the past- for a minute. Buffy began to raise to her tiptoes, and he bent lower still, lips coming too close, and eyes meeting. We could kiss. But we won't. It's too easy to forget and then…it'll hurt again.
Spike pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closing. He wasn't good at patience. Well, he had been patient with Dru, for so long. He had little patience for everything else. "Hard to wait to see what happens next, init?" he whispered, head twisting slightly, putting his lips away from hers.
But that only served to highlight the musculature of his neck, those cheekbones that she now found herself brushing against, her warm, golden skin to his colder white. "It'd be easy to- to forget going slow."
We're still dancing like this, and the music stopped. New music started. She winced at the blaring sugar pop. They bother jerked apart.
"Want to call it a night?" he offered.
"If you do," she replied, but her head gave a reflexive shake, no.
"Wanna ditch this place in favor of a walk?"
"Yeah. Walk me… home?" Everything sounded uncertain.
"Home? Dorms? But you didn't want to be done." Hurt and confusion and relief were bubbling over in his head, but mainly the confusion.
"No, I don't want to be done. We could take the long way home and then, um." Words died off.
"If you invite me in, you worried I'll abuse the privilege?" he asked gently.
"Not really," she answered truthfully. That wasn't her concern.
"Are you jus' worried, full stop?"
They began to walk down the iron stairs and out the back, him slinging his duster on over his shoulders as they moved. "Sometimes guys think if you let them into your room that you-"
"That you want them in other places, too?" he raised one eyebrow, watching her blush. "I'm not exactly a perfect gentleman, but I wouldn't ask you. Know we can't." he sighed.
That surprised her. "We can't?"
"I don't think friends ought to. Yet." Now he felt uncomfortable. "You hafta talk a thing to death, don't you?"
She gave him a hurt look. "That's what I like about you. You talk and I talk and we listen to each other. Friends do that."
I'm not s'posed to feel lustful urges toward friends. Am I? Never had proper friends before, of the fairer sex, so I don't know. "I didn't think I ought to include the word yet, unless it made you feel like I was bidin' my time. I know it might not go that direction."
"I think the same things. But not about biding time. Just taking time." The more I'm around him, the more I think we'll get to that point. I also think I'm okay if it doesn't, as long as it's mutual. "I'm confused." Buffy finally muttered, kicking a crumpled beer can.
"Oh good, so 'm I!" Spike sagged in relief, leaning on her. She leaned back on him.
"I haven't actually 'dated' since I was fifteen. I'm a different person now," Buffy explained. "I don't even like the same things, definitely not the same kind of guys."
Spike hesitated. He hadn't dated. Men didn't, not in his human past. They courted back in his day. His courting attempts had been disastrous and had ultimately led to his turning. "I didn't have much in the way of relationships before Dru. So, we're in the same boat, in a way. This shouldn't be new to us. But it is. We're screwed, Slayer, if we try to play by rules that others have set. We could set some rules of our own."
"We're not entirely rule-following. Especially you," Buffy leaned her head against his chest as they walked. This was nice. This was what she wanted. Someone to talk to, and lean on. Someone to help up and let do some leaning of their own, if needed.
Hot, good kisser, funny, and totally able to keep up with her physically would also be desirable characteristics. Spike ticked all the boxes. Oh no.
Soul. Has to have a soul.
Why? Souls aren't helping guys be good boyfriends, did you notice that? But Spike, for Drusilla… I wish I had someone like that.
I wish I had someone like him.
I could. I think I could be happy with someone just like him.
Buffy changed her meandering pace and circuitous route to something brisker and more direct. Spike flagged for a moment, and she looked at him. His eyes seemed darker underneath, and his normal white-toned skin seemed more bone-like, unhealthy as opposed to merely vampiric. "Want to come in?" she asked.
Spike blinked. "Yeah. I'd love to," he answered unguardedly. "What about the roommate situation?"
"She's out tonight for sure. Oz and the Dingoes - that's his band, are playing in a club like four hours away tonight and Willow went with them. She and Oz have been having some weird issues lately, and they plan to do a little couples' therapy. In the form of Sunday alone in nature and away from her laptop and his chem books and guitar."
"What's your idea of a good time then, Luv?" Spike tried to ignore a sudden pain in his side that wouldn't fade.
She thought for a long minute. "I don't know anymore. Yours?"
He didn't answer. Buffy felt something cold and wet against her arm, which had wormed itself against Spike's injured side, as his arm had snugly fit across her shoulders. "You really need to eat."
"I know."
Silence. "Slayer…"
"I can take you to Willy's Place, that demon bar!" Buffy suddenly realized.
"Do you mind if you get it to go?" Spike detached from her and leaned against a phone pole, looking winded.
"Oh my God. You are not okay."
"Those idiots just kicked me when I was down," Spike hesitated and then rolled up his shirt. One of the blue-black welts was worse, not better, and bleeding a lot more. "I don't think I'm good date material."
"I think you're pretty terrific," Buffy was forced to admit. "You have a car. Where is it?"
"Other side of Restfield. I'm not givin' you my keys unless I see a valid license. That car's older than your Watcher and I'm fond of it."
"You drive, I'll run in for you."
"Okay. In a bit," Spike hated appearing weak. Slayer already had seen him weak before and he hated it then, hated it now, for different reasons.
Buffy licked her lips. She looked around. Alleyways. Perfect and seedy and made her skin crawl. She looked down at Spike, now sitting, panting unevenly and trying not to look like it hurt.
Your perceptions can change. "Let me help," Buffy's voice was soft, and her hands gripped his, steadily pulling him to his feet.
Spike groaned faintly on rising, and tottered for a brief moment before resuming his swagger. The swagger lost confidence when she didn't let go, but kept pulling, kept leading. Down between two buildings, a hall of dirty asphalt and crumbling brick, black outlines of rubbish and gray and red walls.
"Let me help," she repeated, voice smaller, softer.
"I can't do that," Spike felt his head floating, thoughts disconnecting, but not from injury. She was pressing him to the wall gently, embracing him. They swayed together, a dance with no music. He could feel every little lithe curve of her, and his hands trapped themselves in her golden waves. "You don't want this."
Buffy said nothing. I don't want him to bite me. No. No, biting is bad and wrong and makes me feel sick, violated, stomach twists and knots, cold sweats. I can't do this.
He might not make it if I don't.
"I got light headed, Luv, I'm nowhere near starvin'," Spike tilted her chin up gently. "I can't believe you would even think of lettin' me."
Her voice disappeared, she nodded. It wasn't supposed to be scary with him. This was weirdly terrifying. If I cross this line, I might not go back.
We might become all those bad, depraved things he mentioned, the people and vamps who use blood to live, exchange it for sex, for pleasure. All the bad things that I can't understand anyone wanting to do.
I can't understand the feeling of wanting to give this to him.
"You never wanted this," he repeated, head leaning back to find stars in the traveling smog that came over from the cities.
"You wanted a willing donor."
"You didn't want to be one," Spike's confusion turned to full on bewilderment. "Slayer. Buffy! Stop, you're startin' to shake. What's-"
"I don't know!" Buffy burst out.
Too confusing. I don't want to be with a vampire. It's complicated, it's wrong.
I want to be with Spike. It's surprisingly easy. Feels oddly comfortable these days, at least, most of the time.
"If you're not sure, then it's not on," Spike held her closer, pressing her head into his chest suddenly, trying to get the almost imperceptible tremors to stop. "Calm down, all right? We're never gonna hurt each other. We don't need to do this. We don't need to do anything anymore, not unless both of us like the idea."
"Want to be close to someone," Buffy murmured into his shirt.
He fancied his heart pounded, but he knew it was a lie. "I do, too. Hey, let's get a few bags to go, I'll be good as new. Then- we'll be close as we like, in the ways we like."
"Can you walk that far?"
"Absolutely, of course."
They left the alley, sandwiched together. "If I thought you needed help, and I didn't help you," Buffy swallowed hard. "I wouldn't forgive me, now. It's weird, caring about someone so different, but um- caring so much."
"'Cause it just all fits? An' it's so fast?"
"Yeah, exactly."
"I don't think it's as sudden as it seems," Spike broached this subject carefully.
She denied it. "I wasn't attracted to you before."
"No, I didn't mean we had the hots for each other. I meant we'd known of one another for awhile, and we'd appreciated each other as adversaries. There's knowledge of each other stored, now we're just usin' it in a new light."
"Ah. That could be."
More walking, unsteadily. Spike pointed out that it might be quicker to walk directly to Willy's then Restfield, and campus would be a straight shot back if they stayed on Main Street.
"If you're sure it won't hurt more?" Buffy asked.
"When you worry about me, I can't feel any pain at all," Spike knew it was a sweet thing to say, too sweet, too lost and innocent for a man like him, a demon like him. But her smile reached her eyes and poured into his and he couldn't feel any regrets, either.
To be continued...