This was written directly after the credits rolled in the episode "Fool for Love," when Spike comes after Buffy with a shotgun and ends up comforting her on the porch steps instead. Being a die-hard S/B fan since first seeing "School Hard," I dreamed up this little piece of fluff. Disclaimer -- of course, it all belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy. I just want the shotgun.

More Fool Him!

Spike wasn't sure what would happen. For a long time, they sat in silence together on Buffy's porch. Then after a while, Buffy spoke in a low voice, barely more than a whisper. "My mom's sick. The doctors don't know what's wrong. She's staying at the hospital tonight."

"I'm sorry," Spike offered. This hadn't been what he was expecting. He didn't know what he had been expecting, though, unless it was to see the slayer's brains spattered into shotgun-shell-sized pieces all over her own porch. He shook his head at himself as he nudged the shotgun a little farther away. He should have known he couldn't do it. He turned his attention back to the slight, blonde girl at his side and repeated his offer. "Is there anything I can do?"

Instead of answering, Buffy merely turned her head and rested it on his leather-clad shoulder. Her shoulders began to shake. He very carefully placed a hesitant arm around her and held her as she cried. He held her for a long time, stroking her hair.

After she calmed again, she sat up again, saw the shotgun, and smiled mirthlessly. "Yes, there is something you can do." At his questioning look, she said, "Don't kill me until after my mom is better. Someone has to be alive to take care of Dawn."

Spike dropped his eyes, ashamed. It was an odd feeling. In a moment of honesty, he admitted, "Slayer, I'm not going to kill you. Doesn't matter how murderous you make me feel – I can't kill you and we both know it."

Buffy wiped her face impatiently and jumped to her feet to face Spike. For the first time, she noticed the new look in his eyes. Dark and fathomless, but with more than a hint of pain, his eyes met hers steadily.

"Why did you say that, anyway, about my being beneath you?" he asked her softly. "Just because I'm a vampire? Or are you okay with vampires and it's just me you hate?"

"Why are you asking?" she demanded, stepping back defensively.

Smoothly, Spike got to his feet and stepped toward her until they were close again – as close as they'd been earlier, when he asked her to dance. "Because," he said for the third time that evening, "I really want to know if there's something I can do. If you just hate me because I'm a vampire, there's not much I can do about that. But if it's just me, there might be something I can do to make you stop hating me."

"I don't." The words were barely audible, but Spike heard them. Buffy sniffed and continued, "You annoy me. You irritate me. Sometimes you disgust me. You confuse me, and I hate the way you can get into my head sometimes and mix it all up, but I don't hate you. Things just don't work the way they're supposed to when you're around, that's all."

"Yeah, well, you've mixed up my head pretty good too, pet," he admitted. "I was supposed to come here tonight and blow you away in a rage, instead of what I'm going to do." He left it hanging, waiting for her to ask, while he went back to the porch to fetch his shotgun.

She didn't disappoint him. "What are you going to do?"

"Leave." He said briefly. He paused as he passed her, and touched her face gently. "Goodbye, Slayer. Hope you have a long and happy life," he said in a mocking tone that belied the tenderness of his touch.

He was across the lawn and had almost disappeared in the darkness when she called his name. He stopped and waited while Buffy approached hesitantly. She came close to him and, slowly, timidly, came into his arms. "Stay, please."

"Thought I was 'beneath you,'" he remarked as he held her.

Her hands clenched on the back of his t-shirt as she gave a half-laugh, half-sob. "And you never said anything hurtful to me? What about last year, when we fought in the daylight?"

"I was jealous," he said, beginning to smile. "What's your excuse?"

"I don't like hearing the truth about people," she said baldly, trying not to smile back at him. "And you always, always tell it. I hate that! It's one of your most annoying qualities."

"Well," Spike invited, as he took her hand in his and led her back to sit down on the porch, "Come sit down and tell me about some of my lesser annoying qualities."

Buffy laughed. "How much time do you have?"

He shrugged and pulled her down next to him, keeping his arm around her. "I've got eternity."

"Good. That's about how long it'll take."

END