This is going too fast.

In a screaming rollercoaster of memory the last 24 blur through her mind. Spike sneering. Spike punching her through a wall. Spike throwing her through a banister. Spike's fists.

Something so ingrained can't turn back, surely.

Unbidden Angel appeared in her mind. She lingered on how much it had all stung.

She had been so in love. Hurting. Aching. Having that ripped away… her heart lurches at the thought of it.

She chokes on it.

Can't do that again.

She pulls Spikes hands off from round her waist and turns to face him.

"That's not what this is Spike. This isn't flowers and champagne and kisses in the park, ok?" she ties her dressing gown around her.

He moves to pull her in again, pushing her into the door, "could be if you wanted-" She shoves him, a little harder than intended and he sprawls against her vanity desk.

"Bloody HELL woman, you suffer a complete freaky Friday body swap I don't know about it the last minute and half?!"

"I've really gotta go, ok? I'm meeting Giles and Xander at the shop for more research on whatever froze that security guard downtown, and I need to talk to Dawn's principal about the schoolwork she's missed and a million other chores in between," she twists her hair up into a bun on top of her head and skewers it with a pin from the desk. "Look whatever… this was it's… it's not-" She catches his eyes, then looks away quickly, "it's just not, alright?"

"Oh isn't it? You've got a real dual personality problem you know that?!"

"KEEP your voice down, Willow's down the hall!"

"LIKE I GIVE A SHIT!"

He gives her a hard shove into the door, and she comes up swinging, fist connecting with his jaw. He backhands but she blocks and parries with a fist flying for his eye. He grabs her wrist in one hand before it connects. "Oooh, I think I'm getting it." He blocks another punch from her other hand, the grip on her wrist tightening, "made you feel something a little too close to loving, did I? Gotta balance it out with a round of Kick The Spike, is that it?"

She wrenches her wrist out of his grip, "don't flatter yourself."

"Oh so that IS it. Catching feelings are you, Slayer?"

"God, STOP, just go already."

"Answer me!"

"There's nothing to say? Ok? So just do what you do best, and GO!"

"I'm not going until you give me an honest answer. What is your enormous problem with being cared for? Those two pillocks really do such a number on you that what, you'll just never trust anyone ever again?!"

She flinches.

"Not anyone, just you Spike, we don't exactly have a clean shiny slate." She moves to open the bedroom door but he catches her hand before it reaches the doorknob.

"I'm on my knees trying to change that!"

"Don't."

"They failed you Buffy, it's alright to be hurt about it, but you don't stop trying!"

"What do you know about it?" Yanking her hand back.

"Bloody plenty, you stupid bint!" he re-buckles his belt, and leans back against the frame of the bed.

"I bet he never told you did he? Your little soldier boy, about our own personal heart to heart?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That night when I showed you what your sweet harmless boyfriend was running around doing. He visited my crypt afterwards. Put a plastic stake through my sodding heart."

"Don't lie, Spike." He grabs her hand back and moves it to his chest, pushing her fingers down over his breastplate. There's a noticeable divot, and she can feel the ridges of a healed over scar.

"Hurt like hell, I won't lie. But I don't think it hurt half as much as what he was going through, pet. He knew then. I knew then too, that you didn't really give a toss for him. He was just some long agonising rebound after getting kicked down so low by His Royal Forehead. That's what stung the most isn't it? Getting stabbed in the back by a nice safe bloke who wasn't even supposed to mean anything in the first place." Her fingers haven't moved away from the hole in his chest. He flattens his hand over it, savouring the warmth of her skin on his. He can see her eyes are shining over from trying not to cry.

"That's not what it is."

"Yes it is, Buffy. I know your pride's taken a bit of a beating. Something we've got in common at least. Thing is though, they were both the same sort of tragic asshole that wants you but only on their terms."

His thumb strokes the top of her hand.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, luv."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Well y'know. Not like that anyway. Just in the exciting throwing you through a building kind of way."

"That's a little hard to believe, Spike."

"Just don't overthink it for now," he moves in closer, "tell you what we'll get you your own plastic stake and if I balls this up, you can stake me good and proper all night long."

She smirks, "got plenty of real ones for that."

"That's my girl."

In the gloom of her bedroom his white skin glows in the dark, all white except for the dark of his eyebrows and purest black of his eyes. His hair has curled up into ringlets.

She pushes her fingers into his hair. His curls are so soft. He moves his free hand into her hair, finds the back of her neck and pulls her in. Lips soft. Eyes soft. Hands soft.

Heart soft.