And now, ladies and gents, we're gettin into the plot bunnies. Two more chaps tomorrow. YAY! *blows kisses* Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews!

Always. Tequila.

Buffy walked slowly to the cemetery, knowing she had been avoiding Spike. In fact, she thought it was a damn good reason. "I mean," she spoke aloud, "we're all with the smoochies, and hugs, and the 'I think I love you's', and soon enough, we're, or at least, I'm on my back again and that's not a place we want to be." She paused, twirled her stake. "I mean, *yeah*, but... *No*. And..." 'You're scared,' pulsed through her mind. "I am *not* scared," she snarked at the thought.

She was at his crypt, and she knocked dutifully. Waited. No answer. Not a stir from within. She sighed. "I'll never turn my back again," she mimiced. He was mad. Fine. She could deal with that. But damn if she'd deal with the silent treatment. "Spike!" She swung open the door. Perusing the top quarters, Spike wasn't there. She wasn't relishing the thought of going downstairs to a nakee-Spike. Not too much anyway. She approached the ladder and crept down. "Spike?"

There was a sound from below, but it wasn't a British voice. "Purrrrooow?"

She snapped her head to the bed, where the noise originated from. There was a large black cat with white paws, chest and chin sitting on the bed, tangled in the covers. She smiled. "Hey, Kitty... You must be... Harmon?" She approached it slowly, sticking her hand out, smiling nicely.

The cat yawned, showing fangs that rivaled that of his owner, and Buffy noticed a purple collar with white paw prints, and a gold tag in the shape of a heart. "Meeeoowww?" The cat walked to her, purring loudly, and rubbed his head in her hand.

She snickered softly at the heart and purple collar. "Hey. I'm Buffy." She scritched behind his ears. "You've got big teeth, buddy. Are you sure Spike didn't turn you?" She sat gently on the bed.

The cat purred even louder, and tipped over, offering his belly like a dog. "Rooowwrr?"

Buffy made an 'Awwww' face, and started to rub its tummy. "You're such a nice cat. Why would Spike call you a pain in the ass?"

Harmon reached up with his front paws, gripped her hand, and pulled it to his mouth, gently biting it. A love bite. Buffy was in love. She leaned down and kissed its head. "You are a charmer."

The cat waved his paws for a moment, then rolled over and walked up to the head of the bed. He reached his head under a pillow, and pulled out something old, ratty, and orange with black stripes.

She followed the kitty to the head of the bed and carefully examined the abused material. "A tigger!" She looked more carefully, brought it to her nose. It smelled like Spike.

"Merowr." The cat nuzzled the stuffed Tigger.

She looked at the kitty questioningly. "Do you sleep with it, or Spike?"

By way of an answer, Harmon turned his back on the Tigger, walked up to the pillow, turned around twice, and flopped onto his back again. "Purrrrrrr."

She laughed. "Spike sleeps with a Tigger." She laid her head down on the pillow opposite the kitty. "You are quite the kitty." She scritched its head. "Do you wanna come sleep at my house?"

Harmon reached out a paw, gently touching her face with the pads. "Purrrrr."

She made a helpless noise. She felt like going and liberating a litter of kittens at a poker game, in hopes of finding one like this. "So, where is your master, or owner, or... I dunno what you call him- that guy that feeds you?"

The cat's ears suddenly perked up. He gave an excited "Rower!!", and jumped up and ran off into one of the tunnels.

"Hey there, Harm," came Spike's voice. "How you doin', boy. Here, I brought you a catnip mouse."

"Merowr!"

"I'd pick you up," Spike continued. "Except that I can't really bend over right now."

Buffy sat on his bed, propping herself up on her elbows and waited for him to come in. Was highly intruiged by his last statement. The cat galloped back into the main area, a small catnip mouse clutched in his teeth. He jumped back up on the bed, and put the mouse in Buffy's lap.

She smiled, put the weight on one elbow and patted him. "Hey boy. Spike bring you something nice?"

It was then that Spike finally made an appearance, limping in from the tunnel that the cat had just vacated. "Buffy."

Her eyes immediately lost their shine, and her hand stilled on Harmon's coat. Very cooly, "Spike. What the hell did you do?"

Spike walked a little farther in, trying unsucessfully to hide his limp. "Nothin', really." He set a small PETCO bag on a sarcophogus.

She nodded. "Ah.. the semi-annual sale at PETCO.Should have known. Those ferret owners are viscious." Her tone was mild, but her eyes were snapping.

Spike chuckled quietly, avoiding eye contact. He removed his jacket without thinking, revealing the large blood spot on his left side.

She coldly and efficiently removed Harmon from her lap. "Sit down." The order was sharp.

The cat "rowr"ed again, and proceeded to rub against her back. Spike slowly sat on the bed, still avoiding eye contact.

She gripped her hands on the neckline of the tee-shirt, knowing it was a lost cause, and just ripped it open. "I don't know what you were doing. But when I find out, I'm kicking your ass." She gingerly touched the seeping wound on his left side. "What did you do?"

"Finished something," he said through clenched teeth. "And bought cat food."

She glared as she went to get the first aid kit in the mini-kitchen. "And just *what*," she slammed it down on the chair she dragged next to the bed, slammed it open, "did the magnificent, omnipotent, immortal Spike finish?"

He looked at her. Chose to ignore the sarcasm. "I got rid of an annoying demon."

She opened the antiseptic swabbed it on delicately, as opposed to her desire to run the swab roughly over his torn skin. "And what demon couldn't wait for backup to prevent this ass-kicking?" She was muttering words she bet Spike didn't know she knew, giving him baleful glances and touching the wound, gaging its depth.

"It was the last of it's pack." He winced at her touch. "Ow."

Harmon worriedly walked over, purring and rubbing his head on Spike's other side.

She gentled her hands, even though she hadn't been really hard to begin with. "Sorry. What kind? We need to tell Giles to cross one off the list." She ran her hand over the abrasions and contusions on his abs. She'd disinfect those, too. If only for her peace of mind.

"Uh, Tralfgar," he said quietly. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak.

Her hands stilled from placing the guaze over the cut on his side. "Excuse me? Because I KNOW you are not stupid enough to say 'Tralfgar', indicating that you are stupid enough to face one on your own."

His nostrils flared. "At least I only faced one, not three like someone who shall remain nameless."

She stood, towered over his sitting frame. "I am the Chosen. Ok? I die, they'll just bring me back again. And that is NOT the point. I didn't go SPOILING for a FIGHT!" She gave the side of his head a rather sound smack, but not before she was sure that he hadn't sustained an injury there." She knelt again, grabbed the guaze. "I don't wanna talk to you. Lift your arm."

He obediantly raised his arm, muttered. "I wasn't looking for a fight. I was getting some stuff for Harm, and there was this demon in the alley behind PETCO, that was bragging to a couple of vamps that it had single- clawedly made the Slayer run like a little girl. I stuck up for you, dusted the vamps, turned to walk away, and the thing attacked me."

She held the guaze to his side, but looked him in the eye. "I don't need you to defend me. We don't care what they say, ok? As long as it doesn't end in 'apocalypse', we have no interest in what they say."

"It was making fun of you. I hate people or things that make fun of other people." He growled.

She began taping it up. Looked at the neat bandage, and sighed. "You stick up for any underdog you want to. Not me. It's... I appreciate it. Really. But I don't care what they say about me. I kill them, anyway, sooner or later." She kissed the bandage and lowered his arm. "Are these on your stomach the last of it?"

"That, and a gash on my hip. But I can take care of that."

She cocked her eyebrow and said, "And how 'bout that, so can I, and I don't have a huge gaping wound on my ribs."

"Yeah, but-"

She was still irate. Not, irate exactly, but her temper was still high. "What did I say? I'm not talking to you."

He attempted to get up, but his hip gave out, and he sat back down.

She began cleaning his abs gently, first with water, then with the anti- septic. She moved to his other side. "Let me see."

He hissed. "That stuff bloody stings."

She rolled her eyes. "This from the man who just got his ass kicked by a Tralfgar demon?" She kissed above his belly-button anyway. Because that's what you did when you fixed someone up.

Spike gave a little chuckle at the unexpected kiss. "For your information, the demon is dead. I kicked IT'S ass."

"Hail the conquering hero. Quit stalling. Let me see your hip."

He sighed and stretched out on his uninjured side, loosening his belt and sliding one side of his jeans down past the wound. He growled in pain as he peeled the fabric away from the torn skin.

Her breathe caught as she looked at it. The blood was already drying, and the cut was jagged. When he had pulled his jeans away, it had torn parts of the wound open again, steadily seeping blood.

Spike made a sound that was a cross between a growl and a whimper.

She stomped to her feet, stalked to the fridge, and tore it open. Pulling out a gallon of O-Neg, she dumped some in a mug and tossed it in the microwave. As she waited for it to heat, she grabbed the paper towels. "If you *ever* do this again, I will kick your ass. In fact... I'm kicking your ass when you get better."

"Just as long as you fix me up afterwards, luv."

She stalked back and forth between the microwave and fridge, waiting it to beep. She glared at him as she whipped the mug out. "Don't crack jokes at me." She shoved the mug into his hands, and started to soak up some blood with the towels, then moved to disinfect it.

He winced again. "Sorry, luv. I seem to have really bad timing with the jokes lately." Took a sip of the blood.

She cleaned it gently, trying to school the fire in her eyes. Failed. "Drink more." She blew on the cut softly, hoping to diminish the pain.

Spike swallowed most of the mug obediently. Craned his head over, looked at the wound. "Ouch. Makes me glad I'm not human. I'd be in the hospital."

She frowned at it. "Maybe Giles should put a couple stitches in it."

He flinched. "Stitches? Like with needles? Uh, no thanks. Super healing powers go with the vamp package." That didn't sound too childish, he thought. Yeah, right. Bloody wanker.

She took his mug, refilled it, sprinkled a few marshmallows she saw in a bag in it, and pushed it in the microwave. "Sissy. We could get you drunk first, if you really needed to."

"I am not a sissy," he said indignantly. "I'm not scared of anything."

The microwave beeped, and she retrieved the mug, bringing it to him. "Good. Squash that spider to your left for me."

"SPIDER!?", he yelped, looking around with wide eyes. "Where?" He noticed her look. "Ha ha, very funny, Slayer. Remind me to take you to the circus to meet the clowns sometime."

She shoved the mug at him. "More drinking, less talking." She finally decided that he wouldn't accept stitches, she she bandaged it as carefully as she could, liberally slathering the bandage with that triple antibiotic cream.

He looked at her, hoping that her anger had passed. Then he looked at the mug, grinned at the marshmallows, and took a big drink.

Buffy went to his bureau and took out a pair of soft flannel pajama pants and a tee-shirt. "Here. I'd scrap the jeans."

He drank the last of the blood. "Thanks, luv. Good idea." He accepted the soft pants and the shirt. "Uh, do you want to turn your back? Or what?"

She scooped up Harmon, and turned her back. "Sorry. Do you... um.. need help with anything?"

He sighed. "I don't think so. I'll tell you if I find something I can't do."

Harmon purred and began nuzzling her under the chin. She smiled fondly at the kitty, and returned the favor scratching him under the chin. She said quietly, "How's my handsome man?" She rubbed her nose to his. "How's my handsome man?"

Spike glanced over his shoulder, and avoided an embarrassing answer by noticing the cat's tail sticking around Buffy's side. Yeah, right, Spike, he thought. Like she'd really say that to you.

She continued in a slight, 'I'm talking to a baby' voice. "You watch out for Daddy Spike."

He finished changing clothes and turned around. "Daddy Spike?" He sat on the bed, noticing the Tigger for the first time. He quickly grabbed it and stuffed it back under the pillow.

She turned, pretending not to notice that he stuffed the Tigger under a pillow. "Sorry. I get carried away. I like Harmon." She handed him to Spike. "Can you... walk, stand, ok?"

Spike gave the cat a little hug and was rewarded with a loud purr. "I think so, but perhaps sitting would be better for now." He grinned down at Harmon. "Noisy little bugger. Likes being cuddled."

She nodded in agreement. "Can you stand up for just a second?"

He nodded and stood up, still holding Harmon. The cat "rowr"ed and nuzzled the vampire's chin.

She grabbed the waistband of his pants, stretched the elastic carefully and brought it dangerously low on hips, revealing the whole bandage on his hip. "There. Now if it bleeds through, you won't ruin another pair of pants."

Spike made a strangled sound. "Uh, but what do I do if my pants fall down?"

She arched her brow at him. "They shouldn't. I have pants lower than that."

"Yeah, I've noticed.." He backpedaled. "Uh, that is... Oh, bloody hell." He sat back on the bed, putting the cat down. Harmon promptly walked over and pulled the Tigger out from under the pillow again.

She gave Spike an easy out. "Aw. did you find Harmon a toy to sleep with? Cuz, I read somewhere that cats, when they're little like to have something that can be warmed to cuddle against."

He chuckled, not buying that she believed him for one second. "Yeah, you know cats. They drag all sorts of things home. Like trophys to show you. Heh."

She nodded blankly, willing to 'buy' anything he said tonight. He'd had a rough one.

He leaned back and layed down. Harmon immediatly grabbed the Tigger by the ear and dragged it up next to him. Then the cat climbed up onto his chest, purring again. Spike looked at Buffy. "Uh, he must think that I want this for some reason." He waited, expecting the mutual "no denial priviledges" rule to be enforced.

She sighed and shook her head. "I sleep with a stuffed animal, too, Spike."

He glanced at her, defeated. "Yeah, but you're not over a hundred and twenty years old. It's embarrassing. Please don't tell the others."

She wanted to 'aww', but quelled the urge, knowing he was slightly shamed. She pulled the covers over him, and gently kissed the place she'd smacked earlier. "I promise."

He smiled and clutched the Tigger to his uninjured side. "Thank's, luv." He raised up slightly. "You're not... leaving? Are you?"

She was. She was gonna go, and run, and get away, and, "No. Not leaving."

He relaxed again. "Good. Want to lie down? Plenty of room." He glanced at the cat that was now on the pillow next to his head. "Assuming you don't mind moving a certain furry thing."

She smiled, sat on the other side of the bed, slowly laid down. She only pushed Harmon down to cuddle to her stomach, since she was laying on her side. One half-roll and she'd be on her butt on the floor.

The cat happily purred, curled up between his best non human friend, and the new girl that he really liked. Spike absently stroked the cat with the hand that wasn't occupied holding the Tigger.

She sighed, stroked Harmon. "I just... Are you.. tired, Spike?"

"A little, luv. Hard day, you know." He smiled at her. "How was your day? You never told me."

She grinned. "I have found a shampoo that will triumph over the Double Meat stench. So I bathe in it, too, now."

He yawned. "You mean, like, put the shampoo in the bathtub? Doesn't that make it a bubble-bath?"

She sighed at the thought of her last bubble bath. "Yeah... that'd be nice." She glanced at him. "I'm still not talking to you."

He chuckled. "Could have fooled me. Then who are you talking to? Harm?"

"Purrrrow?", the cat said, hearing his name.

She pulled her new hairy friend away from Spike's hands and nuzzled him. "Absolutely. We're going out tomorrow."

Spike sat up, then layed back down at the searing pain in his side and hip. "You're taking my cat? Where? You'll bring him back, right?" Vulnerable, big blue eyes look.

She sighed at her own weakness, and reached over to brush his curls back, even though they weren't anywhere near his eyes. "I'm kidding Spike. Harmon wouldn't leave you anyway. And if you move before I check on you tomorrow night, I'll never speak to you again."

Spike smiled. "What, and disobey my favorite nurse's orders? Never."

She hmphed. "You better not." She lay her head down, and felt very comfortable. Which made her uncomfortable. She so scootched back some more. "Go to sleep, Spike."

"Buffy..." He was looking vulnerable again. "You're not really mad at me about the demon, are you?" He tentitively reached out a hand, releasing the Tigger in favor of touching Buffy's arm. "It's the other day that's bothering you, isn't it?"

She pouted her mouth out. "Yes, Spike. I really am mad. And yeah... Well, I mean... "

"You don't have to say it again, you know. I mean, if you don't want to. I'm fine, really..." The look in his eyes wasn't as convincing as his voice. Love starved.

She sighed. "I meant what I said. I think I might be in love with you. But I just... I don't... " She sighed.

"Might? Oh. Okay. I see."

She reached a hand to his cheek, hoping he wouldn't pull away. "You're special, and beautiful, and kind." She said calmly, almost casually, "And I will kill whoever touches you that isn't me."

He leaned against her hand. "I prefer "devilishly handsome"," he said with a half grin. "Oh, so are you going to kill Harris? Since he hit me before?" He wagged his eyebrows at her.

She said softly, "Anya notwithstanding, I will kill the next female who thinks you're open."

He grinned, cocked his head sideways. "So, are you saying that I'm taken? As in, that we are a couple?"

She felt like stuttering. "I... do you... wanna be a couple?"

"Only if you do."

"Well, I do if you do."

They stared at eachother for a moment, then both started laughing quietly. "Well," Spike said after a minute. "Here we go with the tap-dancing around eachother again. Seems like we're always dancing one way or another, right, luv?"

She frowned lightly. "Yeah... we always are. I have a new rule for you, Killer."

He chuckled. "Oh? What?"

"You wanted to be an official Scooby. Remember that?"

"Yeah." He reached over to the nightstand and picked up his keys. There was a new keychain in the shape of Scooby-Doo. "I've got proof of my status."

She laughed. "Yeah, well, Scooby, no Scoobies go out on their own. So you can't either. Which means no killing without backup."

"So I have to wait for one of the others before I go to the store? You don't do that." He put the keys back on the nightstand.

She said sternly, "I'm the slayer."

"And you could have walked away. You didn't have to dust vamps, or kill a demon. You could have waited." She said quietly, "You should have."

He reached out, gently cupping her cheek. "I'm sorry, Buffy. It's just old habits. I'm used to killing on my own. I've... I've never had anyone who cared enough about me to help." He withdrew his hand, lay his head back. "Not even Dru. She'd jump to help Angelus, but not me. Never me. She didn't even care." A tear slid down his cheek.

She scooted closer, wiped his eyes gently. "I don't know. I just think she's a bitch. But I care. We all care."

He snorted. "Are you saying that the Whelp cares what happens to me?" His tone was flippant, but his eyes said otherwise.

She smiled softly. "He did what I asked him to, didn't he? He didn't really go and stake you did he?"

"Yeah, but that's you looking out for me. If you hadn't been there, I would've been dust." He gave a rueful smile. "The only three of you that like me are you, Dawn, and Red."

She shook her head. "I was in no shape to stop him if he really wanted to kill you. Anya likes you fine."

"Anya doesn't count, she's an auxilery Scooby." He glanced away. "Uh," he said quietly, head down. "What about Rupert?"

Her own head ducked. "I'm sure that he'll-"

"Yeah?"

She rubbed a hand at the back of her neck. "I'm sure ya know, when I get to tell him-"

"You haven't told him yet!!", Spike started. "You said that you told all the others."

"I-I did!" She said. "I told all the Scoobies at the meeting and-"

"Rupert's a Scoobie! He's bleedin' Fred! He doesn't know?" Spike put a hand on his side, wincing when the physical effort of yelling reopened the wound.

She started to get anxious, for his own well-being. "He's like... he's like my dad! And STOP yelling! I just can't-" she lowered her head. "I didn't ever want to disappoint him. And I know that would."

Spike froze. "Disappoint him?", he said quietly. "I knew it... he hates me. He's... he just... his opinion matters alot to me. And he hates me."

"No! No, Spike... That's not what I meant. I just meant... Giles knowing my sex life? Knowing what we- we did? That I hurt you, used you, and you-"

He raised his head. "Wait a minute. You're worried that he'll be mad at YOU? For hurting ME? Uh-uh. Not going to happen. If anything, I'm going to have to run when he hears about it. He'll try to kill me!"

She sat up, curled herself in a ball. "Maybe. We never- I couldn't tell him."

Spike sat up slowly, ignoring the pain from his wounds. He rubbed a hand on Buffy's back. Harmon meowed and dragged the Tigger into the Slayer's lap, trying to help. "Do you, do you want me to tell him?"

She cuddled his Tigger. "No. Absolutely not. He doesn't- I don't want him to know."

"Wouldn't it be better coming from one of us, than if one of the others lets it slip? Like Anya? Or Xander?"

She looked down. "They won't ever say that- they'll never say. Only Xander and- and Dawn know."

He shook his head. "Wait a minute. You said that you told Willow. And I know you mentioned that Anya was there." He looked at her. "What really happened?"

She stiffened her back slightly. "Xander found me. And- and Dawn found your jacket. They swore to not tell the others. I don't.. I dont wanna talk about this anymore. The point is that Giles doesn't need to know."

"Fair enough, Slayer," Spike said, adding a mental 'for now'. "What would you like to talk about then?"

"How you're going to promise me to not go off on your own anymore. And how nice your nap is gonna be."

"I promise. But I'm not sleepy."

She was quivering, and needed to escape. She was gonna cry, or scream, or both, but she needed out. Maybe his- "Yes you are. You need rest so your body can heal. Do you... um... have a bathroom?"

He looked at her, gauged her nervousness. "Yeah. Go down that first tunnle. There's a door in the wall. Brass doorknob. You can't miss it."

She stood, made a quick exit. Standing in the tunnel, she opened the door, and found a pretty nice bathroom all in all.

"Merow?" Harmon said. The cat had followed her.

She let the cat in, locked the door behind them. Sat in the corner and shook.

Harmon didn't understand what was wrong with his human friend. But he wanted to help. He walked over and nuzzled her gently.

She scrubbed her hands over her arms harshly. Looked at the cat. Stopped rubbing at herself to run a hand down his coat. "I need a bath," she told him. "I hate... I hate talking about that... I feel dirty, and... horrible, and-"

"Purrrrr."

She had never allowed herself to dwell on it before. Never been pressed for details. Finally, she was purging herself of it. She set the cat down, and leaned over the toilet, knowing she was going to be violently ill. Ten minutes later, using a washcloth to clean her mouth, and composing herself, she walked out, Harm in tow.

The scene that greeted the human and cat was suprising. Spike was curled into a little ball on the bed, his shoulders violently shaking, crying against the Tigger. There was a splat of what looked like regurgitated blood on the floor next to the bed.

She froze in the doorway, not sure of what to do. She walked slowly to the other side, crawled on the bed behind him, and pressed herself against him, her front against his back, and began to murmur comfortingly.

Spike barely noticed the Slayer's presence. He was trapped, trapped in the memory that their conversation had brought up. "No, nonononono...", was all he kept muttering.

"Spike. Spike." She kept saying it over and over, hoping it would penetrate soon. She laid her cheek against his, prying his hands away from the Tigger, wrapping her own around his. "Stop it. Stop it, Spike. I forgive you."

The shaking slowly stopped, and Spike became aware of Buffy's presence. There were alot of things that he could have said at that point, but all that came out was, "I'm so sorry..."

"It's... It's... I forgive you."

"Thank you..." He leaned against her, pulling in deep, shuddering breaths. Unnessisary as they were, they still served to calm him. "Bloody stupid soddin' soul," he muttered.

She wove their fingers together, leaned against him. "You would care even if you didn't have one. Dawn told me she saw you after it. Can we not talk about it anymore? We don't need to."

"You're right, luv," he said, his voice a little scratchy from the tears. "I think... I think I'll take that nap, now."

She nodded, and relaxed behind him. "Mind if I stay with you?"

He smiled shakily. "Actually, I was going to ask you to. When you're around, I don't have nightmares."

She grinned. "I sleep better, too." She kissed his back. "I should call, let them know where I am."

"Phone's on the nightstand, next to my keys."

She turned him toward her, cuddled into him and said, "Maybe when we wake up.."