Spike was pulled from another one of his nightmare filled slumbers by a strong scent that commanded his attention, and he cast his eyes around the gray basement for where he had shed his pants the night before. With catlike grace he rose from the cold mattress and dressed in graceful, fluid movements. He ventured upstairs, dragged by the smell as a fish was reeled by in on a hook. The house's cozy kitchen proved to be the source of the smell, and further investigation led him into the room. Buffy was standing by the bench, her blonde hair still in thick bed curls was unbrushed and back in a messy ponytail. Her tight jeans and loose sweatshirt were dotted with flour and a smudge of the white powder marred her flawless rosy cheek.
"G'morning Pet. If you don't mind me asking, what the hell are you doing?" Spike spoke clearly, without his usual morning slur.
"Cookies." Buffy pointed simply to the oven, where a batch of chocolate chip cookies were baking in the heat.
Spike's mind was drawn back to that night he had overheard Buffy and Peaches talking about damned cookie dough and other such confusing analogies. He turned from the oven quicker than he had meant to, and Buffy fixed him with a piercing stare, as if she could tell what he was thinking just by staring deeply into his eyes.
"What's the matter Spike? Got a cookie phobia?" Buffy taunted in a strained way. The words were meant as an informal joke, but the tone was forced and indicated that the slayer wasn't sure how she was meant to act around him.
"Nah, it's the cookie dough that scares me." He replied in a noncommittal tone. Buffy stiffened and a flash of recognition passed through her eyes. Spike was making it painfully clear what he had overheard.
"So you're not into the cookies until they're an end product huh?" Buffy was watching Spike closely for his reaction. As if she had issued a silent challenge. Spike took a step towards her, he was so close he could have touched her if he'd wanted.
"I don't care what the cookies turn out like. I'm scared of the dough because it's so easily ruined, or turned into something else. Too much flour and the cookie is wasted, too little and the same reaction. And sometimes, you've just gotta leave them alone, like when they're cooking, you can't keep checking on them too much. If you're always opening the oven door, the hot air escapes and they will never bake right. And there's always the possibility you've picked out one cookie, that you really want to eat, and it looks like you'll never see a cookie like that again, then someone else comes along and eats half of that cookie. Of course, you can still want the whole cookie, but the bastard that took half of your cookie can never give it back, and the cookie will always be missing that half." Spike turned away from Buffy.
"Maybe sometimes... a cookie might need to be checked on a lot. The air could make it taste better. Even if the cookie that you finally choose has half missing. You never know, the other half could've tasted really bad, and you were really lucky to have that half, rather than nothing." She reached out a small and delicate hand to rest on his strong, muscled arm.
Spike placed his hand over hers and drew her close to his chest. She smelled sweet like sugar and he bent his head so their lips met, confirming the suspicion he had that she'd taste the same way.
"Spike?" Buffy said, leaning her head against his chest.
"Yes Pet?" He replied dazed, as if he was waiting to wake up from a dream.
"I'm sorry some bastard stole half your cookie. But you can always get a new one." She looked imploringly up at him.
"It's ok." He kissed the top of her head. "My cookie's still baking; she'll have time to eventually fill out her missing half. And I'm willing to wait, cause all bets are, she's gonna be the best damn cookie I've ever eaten!"
"She?" Buffy raised an eyebrow at Spike, and he merely smiled in return, before he let go of her.
"Let me know when you're cookies are ready to sample huh? They smell really good." He was about to walk off when Buffy, a hint of desperation lacing her tone called him back.
"The cookies might not be ready yet. But I saved a little dough, in case the smell woke you up and you wanted something..." Her eyes shone as he took a step back towards her. He wanted to fix her with an accusing stare and voice his suspicions. Tell her he knew that she had set this up for the whole purpose of drawing the conclusions she needed from him. Somehow, he just couldn't form the words around his idiotic grin. And he couldn't stop his feet from walking back to her side. And he couldn't stop his heart from loving her... But he could finally stop opening the oven door, because he knew with perfect clarity, the next time he opened it, the cookies would be ready, and he wasn't sure what would happen then. So for now, he was happy to breathe deep the sweet aroma of baking.
Buffy looked up at Spike as he popped a small bite of cookie dough into his mouth unaware that she was watching him.
"I love you." She whispered so soft she was almost sure he hadn't heard her.
"I love you too." He whispered back. Abandoning the dough, and seeking out the sugary sweet taste of her lips...