I realise that the whole Spuffy thing is moving slowly and I'm working on it, but I wanted to establish a friendship first – torture, isn't it? For those of you who might be vaguely interested, paracetamol is a mild pain-killer (possibly a bit like Tylenol) – my beta, Martha, told me I'd better explain as she didn't know what I was talking about!

Chapter 14

Buffy groaned and squinted at the window. The bright morning sun was streaming in through her bedroom window and straight into her half open eyes. She closed them again and rolled over, throwing an arm over her face, but it was no use – she was awake and no amount of pretending otherwise was going to change that fact.

She peered at the clock and groaned again as she realised the time and that was when it struck. Her head felt like two small pixies had climbed in through her ears with very large hammers in the middle of the night and were now busy thumping away at her brain. Her eyes wouldn't open properly either. She reached up and rubbed at them before looking at her hands which were now covered in black and she realised that she hadn't removed her makeup before going to bed last night and her mascara had stuck to her bottom eyelashes. How nice she thought as she rolled out of bed, her mission being to find large quantities of water – and quickly. Her mouth felt like the bottom of a budgie's cage.

She reached for her robe and then stopped as she caught sight of herself in the mirror – she was still wearing her clothes from last night. She'd slept in them. Oh, this just gets better. What kind of a state was I in when I got home? she thought. And then she remembered. It all came crashing back - seeing Spike, getting drunk, throwing up in that club, the argument with Riley – all of it. She slumped back onto her bed, her head in her hands and groaned yet again.

And here we have the prime reason why Buffy Summers does not drink. It's always a complete disaster. She shook her head, and then winced as it made the pounding worse, and headed downstairs for that water.

The house was oddly quiet as she poured herself a pint of water. Normally at this hour she would be in classes, but she'd slept through her alarm that morning and it was now the middle of the day. As she downed the pint she vaguely considered going in for her afternoon classes, but then immediately dismissed that idea out of hand as her head began pounding again. She rooted through the kitchen drawers for some kind of painkiller and grinned as she came across a strip of paracetamol. She popped two of the white painkillers out of the strip – they might not be quite what she'd have chosen if she'd been in the States, but they were just as effective - and swallowed them down with another pint of water before stumbling back upstairs to sleep away the rest of the day.

Buffy surveyed her wardrobe in disgust, rifling through its contents irritably. The sleep had helped, as had the paracetamol, but she still wasn't at her sparkling best and now her wardrobe was refusing to co-operate.

"I have nothing to wear!" She exclaimed to no one in particular.

"Hot date?" A voice said from behind her. Buffy whirled round to find Xander lent against the doorway to her room. "Because I was under the impression that you were just going round to Spike's."

"I am," she said distractedly as she pulled a short black dress out of the wardrobe and held it against herself. "What do you think of this?" She saw the slightly amused look on Xander's face. "Too much, huh?" She placed the dress back in the wardrobe and slammed the door shut. She stalked over to the chest of draws on the other side of the room, pulled open the top drawer and started to root through her vast collection of tops.

"And I say again – it's only Spike. What's with the clothing crisis?"

Buffy pulled out a red skinny-fit t-shirt and held it against herself. She smiled and nodded at her reflection in the mirror and tossed the shirt onto the bed before opening another drawer to look for a pair of trousers to go with it.

"Just call it grovelling attire." She said distractedly to her friend. "I fucked up and, well, I always apologise better when I look good."

"Ahh, let me translate that for you." Xander said knowingly. "What you're actually saying is that if you look totally hot then Spike, being of the male persuasion, will be more likely to forgive you."

"Not exactly." Buffy hedged. "There's also the reason that I am recovering from the hangover from hell and all this is show to help me feel up to facing the world."

"Oh, yes. The hangover. Where exactly did you disappear to last night anyway? Apart from the bar, that is."

"Er, that's about it. The bar, mostly." Buffy looked at her friend sheepishly.

"What! You mean to say that you, Buffy Summers, the girl not exactly known for her over-indulgence in the alcohol area, actually voluntarily spent the whole night drinking, just for its own sake. There weren't any evil forces thrusting the drink down your throat?"

"No." Buffy couldn't meet Xander's eyes and busied herself with her clothes. "Just felt like getting drunk, that was all."

"Right. Whatever you say." Xander replied, knowing full well that there was something that she was keeping from him. "Anyway, I have to be going. TV calls." He turned to leave. "The black leather pants – definitely." He called as she walked across the corridor to his room. Buffy pulled smiled and pulled the leather from the drawer.

Spike opened the door to his flat to find Buffy standing there, pizza in hand.

"Mind if I come in? I bring gifts." She indicated the box. For a moment Spike could only stare at her, open-mouthed. He couldn't believe the vision that stood before him – Buffy, dressed in skin-tight leather trousers and a dark red top that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her blonde mane flowed freely around her shoulders as she smiled at him. Stop it! he thought sternly. For Christ's sake, this is Buffy! You know 'Buffy of the boyfriend'? 'Off-limits Buffy'. There is no way you are going to stand here speechless because she's... he tilted his head to one side and eyed her up and down ...wearing what is quite possibly the most gorgeous, stunning, mind-blowingly amazing get up. Buffy frowned slightly as Spike seemed to gasp for air and then visibly shook himself.

"What? Yeah, erm, yeah, come on up." He turned and raced back up the stairs without looking to see if she was following. She smiled at his strange behaviour and followed his up the stairs. Yup. This is going to be easy – the outfit works every time.

"So," Spike said, taking a bite out of the last slice of pizza. "Let me get this straight: all that time you spent round here last term, that was you trying to avoid your 'beloved boyfriend'?"

"Yes!" Buffy suddenly realised how that sounded. "I mean, no! You're twisting my words. I was trying to avoid Riley, but I came round here because I also wanted to spend time with you."

"I was convenient." Spike said, a hint of bitterness palpable in his tone.

Buffy sighed – this wasn't going how she'd expected. She'd decided to be totally honest with him. Well, not totally honest, the little voice that seemed to pop up every time she thought about Spike disagreed. You've not said anything about your reaction to how he looked when he opened the door. Buffy suppressed the small smile that threatened to play across her lips as she the image played across her mind. He'd obviously just finished showering when she'd arrived. He'd stood there at the door, barefoot, hair damp and messy, jeans hanging from his hips. The shirt that he'd thrown on had still been unbuttoned revealing the perfect body beneath. Beads of water still hung to the exposed skin of his chest and, as she stared at him, a single drop left the dip at the base of his throat and her eyes had traced its path down his body as it ran down over his chest, down his stomach, down... She'd had to wrench her eyes away from that drop of water. Yeah, one hell of a lucky drop of water that. the little voice commented before Buffy quashed it firmly. She'd decided to be reasonablY honest with him. She'd told him all about the problems she and Riley had been having - how she'd felt cornered and claustrophobic last term and about how she'd ended up spending longer and longer at his during the evenings as escape from her life. She'd ended by telling him about her conversation with Willow and her promise.

"I didn't mean for this to happen, Spike. I thought that I'd see you anyway – you were always around at our house last semester. I thought that I'd be able to explain then." She looked down, unable to meet his piercing gaze that was directed at her with such accusation.

"And when you found out I wouldn't be round? What then? Because I don't remember you coming here to explain yourself."

"No, I didn't," she said, her voice quiet and meek. "And that was wrong. I'm sorry, I really am. I'm a cow, a brat, a bitch – pick a derogatory term and that's me."

Spike looked at the girl sat meekly on the end of his bed, the girl who was almost pleading for forgiveness, and tried to suppress a smile. He'd forgiven her the moment she'd walked through his door. How could he not forgive the stunning entity that had stood there in front of him, looking so contrite? He knew he was a fool; that he was completely soft, but he also knew that he would do anything that this woman asked of him. Not that she ever would, he thought wryly. She'd never think of me that way. She has him for that. And here am I, grateful for any scraps of friendship she's willing to throw my way. God, I am such a fool! He hadn't even had to hear her explanation. He wondered if he should string her along a bit more - she really was quite fetching when she grovelled - but she was starting to get upset and he hated to see a woman cry. So he relented – a bit.

"Fine. You're a bitch. Glad you accept that." He mumbled, making her squirm a little uncomfortably. He watched her for a few moments and he couldn't contain his laughter any longer.

Buffy realised what was happening as the sound of his laughter broke suddenly around the room.

"You, you... pig!" she exclaimed as she realised he'd been stringing her along. "You made me go through all of that! I grovelled! I thought you were really mad!"

"Oh pet," he heaved between laughs. "But you should have seen you! I'll carry the memories with me for eternity. Priceless, just priceless!" He lent against the wall, still heaving with laughter.

It was contagious and soon Buffy found her mouth twitching into a grin at the sight of Spike lying on the bed, helpless with laughter, arms clutching his middle as he fought to bring it under control.

"You know, if people could see you now, it would completely blow your 'big bad' image out the water," she teased.

That got him. The laughter died immediately and he sat back up, running a hand through his platinum blonde locks.

"Oi!" he sulked. Buffy raised an eyebrow at him, eyes sparkling teasingly.

"Oh, come on! You put me through all of that and I'm not even allowed a little dig?"

Spike smirked at her slightly and surveyed their positions. It had all been a little awkward when she'd first arrived and he couldn't exactly put his finger on why that was. Okay, so there was the whole thing that he just couldn't keep his eyes off the way her arse moved encased as it was in that tight leather, but he was pretty sure she hadn't seen that – he'd been fairly discrete. But when they'd got to his room she seemed, well, nervous – and not the kind of nervousness that could be explained away by her need to apologise for her behaviour. Normally she would have just thrown herself down onto his bed without thinking about it, but tonight she carefully placed herself right at the foot of the bed, almost as if she wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Hell, he thought she'd even lasted a whole five minutes before crawling under the duvet, and that must be a first.

So, here they were, as far away from each other as humanly possible on the narrow bed, tension palpable in the room as they started to flirt again for the first time in what was now months. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he suddenly felt uncomfortable and unsure how to act around her. It was just too confusing and he had to look away, turning to stare out of the window, as if the clouds roaming across the night sky were all of a sudden infinitely more fascinating than anything in the room.

Buffy frowned at his unexpected silence. This wasn't the reaction she'd expected from her little comment. She thought that there had been a breakthrough, that he'd forgiven her, when he started laughing. For a moment things had been the way they always had been, with the flirting and the teasing and she was happy. But suddenly it had changed, he'd retreated back into himself and she felt him go. This isn't good, she thought, feeling the tension rise once more in the tiny room. She knew the most obvious move to make would be just to reach over and poke him in the ribs. It would fit with her last comment and she just knew that it would break this tension.

Any excuse to touch him, right? her little voice sounded and suddenly she couldn't move. She stared at him, willing him to meet her eyes, but he simply stared out of the window, unmoving.

It must have only been minutes, but it felt like hours to the two in the room as they sat there, almost completely motionless. Neither could say who touched who first, but unexpectedly a foot brushed another foot quite innocently. Buffy felt a shiver run through her body at his touch and suddenly she had to look away from his face, becoming abruptly engrossed in inspecting her nails. Spike's eyes flickered to her face, unable to ignore her completely as he felt the contact, but soon looked away again as he realised that she was refusing to look at him. But neither of them moved away from the touch. They both knew that one of them would have to break the silence and each prayed that it would be the other. Buffy broke first.

"So..." she started, unsure of what she would actually say now that she was speaking. "You're not mad at me anymore?" She smiled slightly and looked at him. He turned back to face her and raised his eyes to meet her gaze, his emotions seemed to race across the cerulean orbs as he tried to bring them under control.

"No. Of course I'm not mad at you. One of my biggest faults – can't hold a grudge." He shrugged and returned her smile.

"Well, from where I'm sitting, that's not a fault. Friends again?"

"Friends." He confirmed. Well, did you ever really expect anything else? If you did you're a bigger wanker than you first thought. Remember? She. Has. A. Boyfriend. And you're just bloody lucky that he's not trying to rip your arms off because his girl is currently sitting in your bed.

"...what do you think? Spike?" Spike was wrenched out of his mental diatribe by a kick to his shin and he realised that Buffy had been talking and he hadn't heard a word.

"You weren't listening, were you?" Buffy sat with her arms folded across her chest and smiled knowingly at him.

"Er, well, you see..." He considered bluffing his way through and pretending, but one look at her face told him it would never work. "I wasn't listening – sorry. What were you saying?"

"We've been throwing about the idea of doing a house meal sometime. Willow suggested a Chinese banquet type thing. We'd do it so that everyone would cook a dish each and then we'd all share it. I was wondering if you wanted to come." She looked at him hopefully. She and Willow had discussed the idea but nothing was organised yet and she just hoped no one would mind her inviting Spike.

"Sounds good. When?"

"Don't really know – we haven't got as far as the whole 'when' thing yet. That takes organisation and planning and, well, not necessarily my best attributes."

"Oh." They lapsed back into an awkward silence. Spike started to examine the patterns the poor plaster job formed on the ceiling and Buffy returned to inspecting her nails.

Since when have our silences been awkward? Spike thought. Our silences were never awkward. Comforting, yes, awkward no. Before Christmas we could sit here for hours and now... He rose, feeling the sudden need to be elsewhere.

"Fancy a drink?" he blurted out. Buffy looked up at him.

"Sure, a drink would be, nice."

"Beer?" Buffy suddenly looked a little pale.

"A world of no."

Spike smiled, "Hangover?"

"Like you wouldn't believe – I swear I thought I was going to die. I will never drink again!" she declared. Spike laughed.

"Yeah, like I don't say that every time I get the hangover from hell. Never lasts more than a few days though." He walked out of the room before she could think of a witty and cutting retort.

He hates me. She thought to herself. There's no other explanation for the way he's acting. He's only pretending to forgive me, but he's still really pissed off. Oh, god, what am I doing here? This was a big mistake. She started to rise, but then changed her mind and slumped back down. No, no! I can't just leave like that. He's mad – and he has every right to be, I treated him like shit. So, I will stay and take the heat...And hope for some more footsie... No! And not hoping for any more anything – bad, bad, dirty mind! Get out of the gutter and back on track! She shivered slightly in the cold room and huddled down under the duvet some more, bringing it up round her chin. She inhaled deeply Mmm, Spike smell...

Spike leant against the kitchen worktop, gripping the edge firmly. Get a hold of yourself mate; stop acting like a lovesick puppy. He abandoned his position and started pacing up and down the length of the room. This is Buffy and she's never going to notice you in a million years. Friendship. Keep that word firmly at the front of your mind 'cause that's all she wants from you. Friendship, friendship – make it your mantra. He stopped by the window and stared up at the night sky, smiling slightly as he recalled the thrill that had passed through his body when they touched earlier. Meant nothing. Just a touch – I've touched the chit before haven't I? Friendship. And drinks. God – she's probably wondering where the hell I've got to. He pulled a beer and a can of Cola out of the fridge and started the short walk back to his room.

"One drink – guaranteed 100 alcohol-free!" he declared as he handed her the drink. He hovered slightly by the bed, unsure of where to sit Bugger it! he thought and lifted up the duvet, crawled underneath and settled himself right in the centre of the bed. Buffy scooted her legs out of the way, curling them up underneath her as she took a sip of her drink.

"Pet? You okay?" Spike frowned.

"What? Yeah, fine, of course – why wouldn't I be?" She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"You don't fool me y'know. You've been quiet and distracted all night. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No, it's nothing. Just the residual hangover I guess." She looked at him almost optimistically and hoped that he wouldn't pry any further.

"Nope, not buying that. There's something wrong. Is it Riley? Are things still not right between you two?" Friends, friends, friends, Spike repeated his new mantra.

"No, it's not that really – though things between me and Riley really aren't that great at the moment." She sighed. "We had this really big fight last night. Well, actually, it was less of a really big fight and more of me screaming at him for a while."

"Oh. So, you two haven't sorted out your problems then?"

"Very definitely not." She sighed. "It really doesn't help that, as far as Riley's concerned, there isn't a problem."

"No?" Spike asked in his very best 'concerned listener' voice.

"No." Buffy looked down at her hands and knew that there was something she needed to get off her chest. "He proposed to me."

And there she goes – one step further up on the 'Completely Unavailable Ladder of People Way Out of Spike's League.'

"So, you guys are engaged now?" He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Buffy looked at him, shock evident on her face.

"What! Are you mad? Of course I didn't say yes! I've just sat here and told you that Riley and I are having problems. I'm not going to marry the guy. I mean, not yet. Maybe, if we sort this out."

"So you said no?" Spike was now a little confused – and a little relieved, he admitted to himself.

"No, not exactly, I kinda put him off." She smiled sheepishly at him.

"You put him off?"

"Yeah, I told him that I wouldn't marry him unless he proposed properly with a diamond engagement ring – you know, the whole 'romance' thing."

"Right. And this was all to sidestep the issue?"

"Well, not totally, I mean I would like to be proposed to with a ring and everything."

"Don't you thing that it would have been kinder just to say 'no'?"

"But I wasn't sure that I wanted to say no. I just knew that I didn't want to say 'yes'. It all came as a bit of a shock, you know! Completely unexpected." Buffy glared at him. She'd opened up to this guy and now he was giving her a hard time. Spike saw the look on his face and immediately realised that he'd said the wrong thing.

"Look luv, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have a go." Without thinking, he reached over and put him arm around her, pulling her into a hug, wrapping her into his arms.

Buffy tensed ever so slightly at the contact, unsure of how to react. But isn't it nice? the little voice asked evilly in the back of her head. No, no, no – this is not good! What? Are you insane – this is great! Just feel his arms around you... No! Not good. Have to do something. She moved her arm down and snaked it round his waist, resting it by his side. Slowly curling her fingers she moved in for the kill, tickling what she knew to be one of his most sensitive spots.

The reaction was immediate. Spike sprang away from the hug and glowered at her from the other end of the bed.

"Oi! What was that for?" Buffy smiled evilly at him.

"Just thought that it was all getting a little serious in here." She explained Well, it wasn't exactly a lie, was it?

"Oh, it's gonna be like that..." Without warning, he pounced on her, pinning her hands to the bed with one of his hands, legs atop hers so she was effectively immobilised, his free hand tickling her mercilessly. He leaned down closer to her face and whispered, "See, I remember what you like to do with your legs."

Unable to move she stared up at him, straight into his blue eyes, which were sparkling with mirth. He was so close she could smell him. Mmm, Spike smell little voice echoed her earlier thoughts. She licked her lips unconsciously.

Spike caught the movement and glanced down at her lips. They were so near and so plump and moist they just called out to be kissed. No! Friends, remember! Be good! He sat up slightly and she wiggled in his grasp.

And now would be a good time to move of her lap before she realises just how much you're enjoying this little game, he thought and quickly released her legs.

"Ha! Bad move Spike – I'm not defenceless little Buffy anymore!" She declared as she kicked a leg up towards him, the odd moment forgotten in her determination to win.

He easily caught the leg in his free hand and smirked at her as he tucked it under one arm, releasing her hands.

"So, what's so bad about the feet?" He asked as he reached out and tickled the soles of her feet.

His question was quickly answered in a blinding shot of pain that flashed through his face a moment later. Buffy had kicked him, hard.

"Jesus, woman! I think you broke my bloody nose!" He swore through the blood that was now gushing down his face.

"Oh, Spike, I am so sorry!" She said, wincing at the blood and hunting round desperately for a towel. "I really didn't mean to – it's like a knee-jerk reaction. Someone tickles my feet and I lose all control and kick out." She handed him a towel. "I just never broke someone's nose before!"

"Well, now I know what's so bad about the feet. They could have been a bit more bloody specific with the warnings. Look, you're going to have to take me to the hospital." He stood up and walked towards the door, turning when he realised she wasn't following. "Well, come on – I'm bleeding here and the stuff's a nightmare to get out of the carpet."