Disclaimers: This isn't mine. Sniffle . . .
Spoilers: Screw it. No one cares.
Summary: More Spuffyliciousness. Not a word, but it works.
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Buffy sat on the sofa, staring at Spike. She was startled, to say the least. 'Did Spike just thank me for something? Maybe he was being sarcastic.' She blinked and examined his facial expression. 'He doesn't -look- like he's being sarcastic. He looks . . . grateful or something.'
Spike was looking at her now, one eyebrow raised quizzically. 'Wait, oh crap, I'm staring at him.'
"Um . . . you're welcome?"
He smiled, amused, and turned his attention to the television. Buffy looked down at the big plate of cookies on the table, thinking.
"Spike?"
"What is it, pet?"
She held up the plate warily. "Err . . . do you want a cookie? Blood must have a really nasty aftertaste, and there are too many for me to eat."
Spike looked over at her, confused. 'Why's she being so nice to me?' He looked at the cookies nervously. 'Maybe they're poisoned . . . or drugged. But I do love sweets . . .'
"What kind?"
She picked one up and took a large bite out of it. "Chocolate chip. Pretty good."
Spike's ears perked up when he heard what she'd said. 'Chocolate?'
"Pass one over here, then."
Buffy stuffed a cookie into his mouth, giggling.
"Mpmph bmph phew mwere mpst whmpt tmph dmph dhat." Spike mumbled as he tried to simultaneously talk and eat.
Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "What was that, Spike? Maybe you should speak up."
He swallowed, giving her a mock glare. "As I was saying, I bet you were just waiting to do that. Tempt the Big Bad with sweets and then try to choke him to death by shovin' it half way down his throat. Good thing for me vampires don't need to breathe."
Buffy snorted. "Yeah, right, six years as a Slayer and that's what I have to resort to; tying up evil fiends and choking them with cookies. Ooh, villains beware!"
Spike was about to retort when the doorbell rang. Buffy smirked.
"Spike, why don't you go hop over there and see who that is?"
He glared at her, and she got up from her comfortable seat. "Fine, fine, don't get it. Jeez, chivalry really is dead."
Buffy opened the front door to see Xander waiting on the front porch. He smiled when he saw Buffy.
"Xander? What are you doing here?"
"Didn't Giles remember to tell you? I'm here to relieve you of the burden of watching Spike. I told him to tell you I would be coming over later . . ."
Buffy slapped herself in the side of the head. "Right, right, I do remember that."
Xander grinned, looking proud of himself. "I didn't welsh or anything. I'm here, good old reliable Xander."
"Um, Xander, I really do appreciate this, but . . . I'm actually doing fine. You don't have to take over if you don't want to."
Xander looked at his friend as if she'd grown a second head.
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. I mean, the party I wanted to go to is already over, and . . . the program I was watching isn't finished. It's just getting to the best part."
"Okay Buffy. Number one, it's only 10 o' clock. No college party ever gets out until at least one in the morning." Xander peered over her shoulder and into the house. "And number two, the program you're watching is an infomercial for . . . hair removal cream."
Buffy blushed for what seemed like the millionth time that night, flustered.
"Yeah, well . . . it happens to be that I'm running out of my . . . hair removal stuff, and - and they were just about to show the before and after pictures! I need to see if it's good enough for my . . . hair removing needs."
She grimaced inwardly, realizing how extremely lame her excuse sounded. Xander put a hand up to her forehead.
"Hmm, you don't feel hot," he said in a half joking manner. "Buff, what's going on?"
Buffy realized that she had to think up something semi-believable, and fast. There was no way she could ever tell Xander that she was actually . . . enjoying her time with Spike. He'd think she was possessed.
"Look, I just feel bad about taking away your time with Anya. You obviously care about her, and she cares about you too, but . . ." Buffy lowered her voice to a whisper. "We've been talking, and she told me that she's been feeling neglected lately. Saying that she feels you don't spend enough time with her."
Xander stared at her incredulously. "You and Anya have been talking? I didn't even know you two were friends!"
"Yes, well, we are. Very, very, close friends. But that's not the point. She's upset, and if I were you, I would go home and, um, comfort her. Show her a night out on the town."
Xander looked at Buffy again, shocked and grateful. "Thanks for telling me, I probably should go to her place, and . . . are you sure you don't mind taking over my shift?"
"Of course not. I just want to make sure everything works out fine for you two."
"Are you sure?"
Buffy shook her head, exasperated. "Xander . . ."
He smiled, grateful. "Thanks a million Buff, I really owe you one."
After he had left, Buffy closed the door with a sigh. She felt guilty that she had lied to Xander, but relieved that he had bought her excuse. She made her way back to the living room and plopped down on the sofa, grabbing another cookie. She was about to bite into it when she noticed Spike was staring at her.
"Why, Slayer. I didn't know you cared," he said, teasingly.
Buffy looked over at him, attempting a non-chalant expression.
"What do you mean?"
"You know; you, making up excuses to stay here with me a little longer. I'm touched."
"I wasn't making up excuses! I really have been talking to Anya . . ."
"Yeah, right, and I'm the bloody Queen Mother. Look, you're a horrible liar. He might not have fell for it, but I can see right through you." He paused. "So why'd you do it?"
She shrugged, faking a yawn. "I'm tired. That and I changed my mind about going out. It doesn't feel like a party night."
"I told you, Slayer, I can see right through you. Don't give me some bullshit answer; I want the truth."
Buffy looked over at him nervously, sighing in defeat. "Fine, to be perfectly honest . . . and if you let anyone know I told you this, you're dead . . . I - you haven't been such a pain in the ass lately. Tonight especially. I don't know what it is, but . . . I can stand to stay in the same room with you without wanting to rip your head off."
She looked over at him and studied his face, his eyes. 'He seems . . . I don't know, touched? This is too weird.'
He smiled lightly. "Feeling's mutual."
And so they sat, in amicable silence.
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To be continued . . .
Spoilers: Screw it. No one cares.
Summary: More Spuffyliciousness. Not a word, but it works.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Buffy sat on the sofa, staring at Spike. She was startled, to say the least. 'Did Spike just thank me for something? Maybe he was being sarcastic.' She blinked and examined his facial expression. 'He doesn't -look- like he's being sarcastic. He looks . . . grateful or something.'
Spike was looking at her now, one eyebrow raised quizzically. 'Wait, oh crap, I'm staring at him.'
"Um . . . you're welcome?"
He smiled, amused, and turned his attention to the television. Buffy looked down at the big plate of cookies on the table, thinking.
"Spike?"
"What is it, pet?"
She held up the plate warily. "Err . . . do you want a cookie? Blood must have a really nasty aftertaste, and there are too many for me to eat."
Spike looked over at her, confused. 'Why's she being so nice to me?' He looked at the cookies nervously. 'Maybe they're poisoned . . . or drugged. But I do love sweets . . .'
"What kind?"
She picked one up and took a large bite out of it. "Chocolate chip. Pretty good."
Spike's ears perked up when he heard what she'd said. 'Chocolate?'
"Pass one over here, then."
Buffy stuffed a cookie into his mouth, giggling.
"Mpmph bmph phew mwere mpst whmpt tmph dmph dhat." Spike mumbled as he tried to simultaneously talk and eat.
Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "What was that, Spike? Maybe you should speak up."
He swallowed, giving her a mock glare. "As I was saying, I bet you were just waiting to do that. Tempt the Big Bad with sweets and then try to choke him to death by shovin' it half way down his throat. Good thing for me vampires don't need to breathe."
Buffy snorted. "Yeah, right, six years as a Slayer and that's what I have to resort to; tying up evil fiends and choking them with cookies. Ooh, villains beware!"
Spike was about to retort when the doorbell rang. Buffy smirked.
"Spike, why don't you go hop over there and see who that is?"
He glared at her, and she got up from her comfortable seat. "Fine, fine, don't get it. Jeez, chivalry really is dead."
Buffy opened the front door to see Xander waiting on the front porch. He smiled when he saw Buffy.
"Xander? What are you doing here?"
"Didn't Giles remember to tell you? I'm here to relieve you of the burden of watching Spike. I told him to tell you I would be coming over later . . ."
Buffy slapped herself in the side of the head. "Right, right, I do remember that."
Xander grinned, looking proud of himself. "I didn't welsh or anything. I'm here, good old reliable Xander."
"Um, Xander, I really do appreciate this, but . . . I'm actually doing fine. You don't have to take over if you don't want to."
Xander looked at his friend as if she'd grown a second head.
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. I mean, the party I wanted to go to is already over, and . . . the program I was watching isn't finished. It's just getting to the best part."
"Okay Buffy. Number one, it's only 10 o' clock. No college party ever gets out until at least one in the morning." Xander peered over her shoulder and into the house. "And number two, the program you're watching is an infomercial for . . . hair removal cream."
Buffy blushed for what seemed like the millionth time that night, flustered.
"Yeah, well . . . it happens to be that I'm running out of my . . . hair removal stuff, and - and they were just about to show the before and after pictures! I need to see if it's good enough for my . . . hair removing needs."
She grimaced inwardly, realizing how extremely lame her excuse sounded. Xander put a hand up to her forehead.
"Hmm, you don't feel hot," he said in a half joking manner. "Buff, what's going on?"
Buffy realized that she had to think up something semi-believable, and fast. There was no way she could ever tell Xander that she was actually . . . enjoying her time with Spike. He'd think she was possessed.
"Look, I just feel bad about taking away your time with Anya. You obviously care about her, and she cares about you too, but . . ." Buffy lowered her voice to a whisper. "We've been talking, and she told me that she's been feeling neglected lately. Saying that she feels you don't spend enough time with her."
Xander stared at her incredulously. "You and Anya have been talking? I didn't even know you two were friends!"
"Yes, well, we are. Very, very, close friends. But that's not the point. She's upset, and if I were you, I would go home and, um, comfort her. Show her a night out on the town."
Xander looked at Buffy again, shocked and grateful. "Thanks for telling me, I probably should go to her place, and . . . are you sure you don't mind taking over my shift?"
"Of course not. I just want to make sure everything works out fine for you two."
"Are you sure?"
Buffy shook her head, exasperated. "Xander . . ."
He smiled, grateful. "Thanks a million Buff, I really owe you one."
After he had left, Buffy closed the door with a sigh. She felt guilty that she had lied to Xander, but relieved that he had bought her excuse. She made her way back to the living room and plopped down on the sofa, grabbing another cookie. She was about to bite into it when she noticed Spike was staring at her.
"Why, Slayer. I didn't know you cared," he said, teasingly.
Buffy looked over at him, attempting a non-chalant expression.
"What do you mean?"
"You know; you, making up excuses to stay here with me a little longer. I'm touched."
"I wasn't making up excuses! I really have been talking to Anya . . ."
"Yeah, right, and I'm the bloody Queen Mother. Look, you're a horrible liar. He might not have fell for it, but I can see right through you." He paused. "So why'd you do it?"
She shrugged, faking a yawn. "I'm tired. That and I changed my mind about going out. It doesn't feel like a party night."
"I told you, Slayer, I can see right through you. Don't give me some bullshit answer; I want the truth."
Buffy looked over at him nervously, sighing in defeat. "Fine, to be perfectly honest . . . and if you let anyone know I told you this, you're dead . . . I - you haven't been such a pain in the ass lately. Tonight especially. I don't know what it is, but . . . I can stand to stay in the same room with you without wanting to rip your head off."
She looked over at him and studied his face, his eyes. 'He seems . . . I don't know, touched? This is too weird.'
He smiled lightly. "Feeling's mutual."
And so they sat, in amicable silence.
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To be continued . . .