A/N I love the relationship between these two in the first few episodes of season 6 and this drabble is the result. Enjoy.
Comfort
It was strange, the way she was beginning to feel about him, like she had no control over her body. She wanted to be with him. Wanted to be around him. Wanted to be close to him. It made her feel good and so very few things did these days. It hadn't happened this way with Angel and Riley. With them she had been attracted to them and known it. She had pursued them or resisted them in equal measure, all the time in control...ish. With Spike she had pushed him away, hadn't trusted him and kept him at arm's length, until he saved Dawn...and maybe that's when all this had really started. It was so gradual, like he was drawing her in, except she knew he wasn't doing anything different. It was her. She was different. Being dead can do that to you.
She couldn't forget the expression on his face when he'd seen her for the first time after she was...back. It had seared her. She'd suddenly been aware of her undone buttons and hurriedly did them up. For some reason it was important. He had spotted her hands. They all fussed about her hands. She hid them. She didn't want to talk about it...but she didn't need to. He understood already. He knew. There was empathy in his eyes. His touch on her as he'd examined the damage and for the first time since she'd come back she felt calm. Safe. Then the noise of the others and he'd gone. She missed him. He took the calm with him. In this world that was hard and bright and violent and loud he was quiet and gentle, a soft voice and soft eyes when he looked at her. It was never bright when he was around, he preferred the dark. She didn't have to hide anything from him, didn't have to pretend she was okay and it was a relief. Somehow he made her smile, without it being forced. She often found her feet taking her to quiet places and he would be there. She told the others she needed to be alone. She began to wonder if wanting to be alone was a lie. When she said it didn't she really mean that she wanted to be with him? That she didn't want to be with them?
On patrol she found herself outside his crypt much more often than she ought to be and began to wonder whether she were really on patrol. Was that just another excuse? Another lie? They would sit and sometimes there would be talking, often he just listened, but mostly there was silence...and drinking. He let her decide what she needed. He was a sip of water in a desert. She could feel something between them that made her overly aware of him. Every time he brushed past, sat next to her, stood close when they talked, her skin tingled and she had to resist the urge to close the gap, to feel that comfort physically. She had just enough of her old self left not to, to acknowledge that it would be a very bad idea, and not to let anyone know. She couldn't make herself stay away from him though, couldn't deny herself that one shred of comfort in this hell. She guessed she was just too selfish for that. Besides, she reassured herself on the few odd occasions where she could think clearly about it all, it wasn't like anything was going to happen between them...