I'm having a ball reading your reviews, gals! So glad to see them up there, on the board, for me to... view. wink I hope everyone's well. I am terribly wonderful now thanks to you all! Alright, without further delay...

Warm and special thanks to Scarlet Ibis (Heh, Dawn, eh? I can see that, though to me Dawn is a wiiiittle more annoying. Maybe that's just me as the writer. shrugs ;) Heh, and Spike making with the smoochies. And Buffy... well, will she be alright you think? cue bah-baH-BAH music) :), ReeseAnn (oh, overjoyed that you're so excited! I love a good rant. Especially when it's a positive rant. And I mean 'rant' in the most affectionate way. ;) You. Make. Me. Feel. AWESOME!) :), SlaYeRGiRLkaL (lol Sorry 'bout the coffee. If ever in CT I'll buy you one. ;) Happy you like!) :)

Kim (indeed, indeed. And oh, yes, indeed. smile) :), spiked-gurl (moahahahahahahahah! Excuse my evil creator-and-in-control laugh. ;) Very pleased you enjoyed!) :), Megan/Peta (I'm very flattered you feel that way and am very happy to read that you enjoy the story! And thank you so much for the nomination! I am humble before thee. Very excited too! And I'll get in touch with her a.s.a.p. Thanks a lot girl!) :), MaidenRo (you little jealousy junky! lol I'm so glad you liked the chapter though. And thanks for the comment of the keeping them in character. That's always the best to read!) :), Susie (I'm a fan of the evil cliffhangers, I must admit, though I haven't been using them very much in this story... Fancy that. ;) So great that you like the story! About the commas – I'm very sorry but I don't get what you mean. This is the way I write. The way I've always written. If you think there should be more punctuations and commas, please give me a hint. Pick a paragraph, copy it, leave it as it is and then copy it again, inserting the commas you think are needed. I'm very curious, honestly! No harm taken whatsoever, I just really have no idea where you might think it's needed! Thanks for the honesty though, it's always appreciated.) :) and last but not in any way least we have a new reader by the pin of bloodshedbaby (wow, kinda grizzly, eh? Just kidding! It is the biz we're in. ;) You're comment made me laugh. Thanks for that:) Very, very, very flattered that you read the whole thing. Says a lot about the story and that makes me extremely happy. One might even call me delirious. Before I go off and blabber I'll just say – thank you.) :)

To ALL, great big huge humungous shout-from-the-rooftops love you all THANKS for your awesomeness. I couldn't live without you! You're my addiction. :)

A.M.L, Annie.

¤

How Lovely

¤

She woke up with a jerk, looking up at the ceiling and then around the room with disoriented eyes.

"Where am I?" she asked, but there was no answer.

She slowly began to remember, and soon she concluded that she was in his bed, in the crypt. She tried to sit up and an ache immediately began to pulsate from her right shoulder, making her draw a breath as she sat up fully, moving the covers to the side and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her hand went to the place of hurt and she felt soft bandages. Carefully she got to her feet and realized she didn't have a top on.

She blushed. By the feel of her shoulder she was certain circumstance had called for her nudity and still... She bit her lower lip at the thought of him seeing her... Then she got the thought out of her head and grabbed one of his sweaters, pulling it on with studied movements. She headed for the ladder once she was done, climbing it and coming up into the crypt, which was lit by the candles burning brightly.

"So you're up then," he said, coming from the kitchen and walking passed her to the coffee table.

She felt a slight sting at his indifference.

"I'm up then," she murmured, following in his footsteps and then slowing to a halt.

"What?" he asked at her stricken expression. "It's food, Buffy, wipe the astonishment off."

"You... did this?" she asked, coming up to the table and having a seat on one of the cushions.

"No, you did," he replied. "It's the same setting from last night; I just went and got us more wings. The wine's ruined, but I never liked that year anyway. Got us some better stuff..."

"Last night?" she asked and he met her gaze.

"You've been asleep for a while," he shrugged, sitting down as well and grabbing the opened bottle of wine, filling their clean glasses.

"For a while?" she asked.

"You're healing, love," he said. "Wound's not to toy with, it got you deep. How does it feel?"

"Sore," she mumbled, reaching out to take the glass and wincing. He smiled a small smile as she changed hands, lifting the glass with her left. "To..."

"...the moment," he filled in, and she complied, drinking the toast.

They were quiet for a short while and then they both reached for the chicken.

"Go ahead," he said.

"No, no; you got them, you go ahead."

"No, you need to eat something. Here."

He grabbed a piece and unceremoniously threw it onto her plate. She looked at it, and then at him, and for the first time there was the hint of a smile on her mouth.

"Thanks," she said, picking the wing up and beginning to eat.

He grabbed one as well, watching her. She finished hers and took hold of another one. He wondered distantly what she thoughts were running through her mind.

She had never been this hungry. And chicken had never tasted this good. She took another mouthful of wine and savored it. As she started on her fourth wing her eyes finally landed in Spike's and she held his gaze, growing quizzical. Finally she asked:

"Anything wrong?"

"No."

"Something's wrong."

"No."

"Why aren't you eating?"

He glanced at his untouched wing.

"Saving room."

"You going out?"

"Yeah."

"No, you're not." He cocked an eyebrow and she finished the wing, putting the remains down on her plate and swallowing as she kept her eyes in his. "Stay here, with me. Just for tonight. Please. I don't wanna be alone."

He gritted his teeth.

"Alright," he muttered and she smiled brightly.

"Good!"

"You done?" he asked with a nod to the bird.

"Yes, thank you," she answered.

"Welcome," he said, grabbing their plates as he rose, walking into the kitchen.

Buffy climbed onto the loveseat, contented in the fact that he had humored her. Then a small frown appeared and she wondered exactly why he had caved in so easily... She hadn't even had to ask twice. Then she realized why and she rose, turning to him as he came back.

"I acted on instinct," she stated.

"Pardon?"

"Saving you. It wasn't this noble act; it was seeing you almost get your head chopped off and reacting to it. You don't have to feel like you owe me anything."

"Don't feel anything of the sort," he said, posture growing rigid.

She eyed him closely, then sat down again. He cleared the rest of the table in silence. She watched him, wanting to say something to ease the tension, but lacking the right vocabulary. She played with the hem of the sweater she was wearing as he came up to the loveseat and sunk down beside her.

"Is that my sweater?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah..." she replied.

"Huh... Wanna play cards?"

She furrowed her brow.

"Depends on what you wanna play."

"Poker?"

"I don't know how to..."

"I'll teach you," he interrupted, rising to get his deck.

"Spike, if you wanna go play poker you can go play poker. Just... don't play for kittens – it makes me sad."

He came back up to her, pulling her off the couch by way of one wrist and plopping her back down on the previous cushion. He sat down facing her and began to cut the deck. He started with showing her the basics, and she listened intently. After another twenty minutes she thought she had it pretty much down.

"The rest is luck," he stated, gathering the cards spread out on the table.

"Alright," she said. "So... what're we playing for?"

He met her gaze and then smirked.

"Money."

¤

"And that means that your collection of rings now belong to me," Buffy stated three hours later, splaying her winning hand over his losing one and he snarled.

"Unbe-sodding-lievable," he muttered, tearing the rings he had been wearing off his fingers and one by one throwing them at her.

She giggled, sliding them all onto her forefinger and wiggling it at him.

"Don't be a poor loser, Spike."

"I think I've lost enough for one night," he replied, getting to his feet and stretching.

"Is there any wine left?"

"I think so. Want some?"

She nodded.

He brought the bottle and their glasses back to the loveseat, on which she had yet again placed herself. She sat there, wearing his sweater and his rings. He glared at her, feeling a rumble which at least resembled annoyance rise in his chest. But then she shifted, bringing her locks into one hand and moving them to lie over one collar bone as she played a little with the ends of them. The dark blue of the sweater suited her, and the way it had slipped to reveal the smoothness of her unhurt shoulder had him sit down at the other end of the seat, as far away as he could get from her without being too obvious. He then stretched out the hand holding her wineglass towards her.

She took the glass before rising and walking up to the TV, switching it on. She turned the knob until she found a movie and then she moved back to the loveseat, sitting down again, only this time in the middle of it. Performing the deed as nonchalantly as she could muster. However, he stiffened, and she grumbled in her head as she gently slid herself over to where she had been previously positioned.

She took a mouthful of wine, set the glass aside and folded her arms, placing them on the armrest and letting her chin find a spot on them. The movie on the TV screen had an obscure title she had never heard of, and she only recognized one actor from a show she had followed once.

"Where did you put my top?" she said out loud, the words registering with her the following moment and she was startled by them. In spite of this emotion, she went on with: "I looked for it before and I couldn't find it."

She met his gaze as she turned to sit with her back against the armrest instead. He finished his wine, small smile showing on his lips and she crossed her arms over her chest conscientiously. The smile turned to a smirk as he put his glass down.

"I threw it away," he said. "It was soaked through with blood."

She swallowed, one hand going to the bandages.

"And then you...?"

"Love, I had no bloody interest whatsoever in seeing you without your clothes on before last night, and I have no bloody interest to now either. I didn't see anything... well, not very long of anything you might not 've wanted me to see. Alright?"

"Fine," she grumbled.

He stared at her as she turned her head back to the TV. She was disappointed. Bloody hell, what a mess this was turning into. Either way he went he ended up producing that goddamn pout on her! Stay home. Alright, he stayed home. No, don't feel like you owe me, go out. But...

He looked at the TV as well, then got to his feet.

"I'd better clean your shoulder," he stated.

"What?" she asked, but he had already disappeared down the ladder.

She rose, leaving the TV on she followed him down, stepping onto the floor just as he came up to her.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

"Thought you said..."

"We can do it on the couch."

She smiled a crooked smile at that, walking passed him and up to the bed. Climbing onto it she placed herself on her stomach. He stood frozen on the spot for a few more seconds, then got himself moving, approaching her with a caution he didn't think he should have to feel. But he felt it alright.

Setting the things he needed down on the bed he looked at her.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well, you're dressed, for starters," he replied and she smiled again, sitting up.

"Right," she murmured. Looking up at him she grabbed the hems of the sweater before saying: "Close your eyes."

He held her gaze, then did as she asked. He heard her pull the sweater over her head, and then lying down again.

"Alright," she said.

"Need light," he murmured, though his night vision worked perfectly.

He got himself moving up to the spot holding a nice supply of matches, grabbing a box and opening it up. He took out a match and tried to light it. It broke. He clenched his jaws together and tried again. Another snapped in half.

"Bloody hell," he cursed silently.

A third and a fourth. As he got to the fifth he focused all his will on making it be set on fire and after a few seconds of this meditation he struck it against the box and there was a hiss as a flame burst to life.

Thank God, he thought to himself, bringing the flame to the candle standing closest and then taking the candle around the room. Setting it down once he had finished he turned back to the bed and his eyes rested in hers. She was still on her stomach, her head turned to the side and her gaze following him.

He came up to her again, having a seat next to her.

"Do your worst," she mumbled with another smile, and he returned it.

She closed her eyes and he sat still for what felt like forever.

She wished she knew what he was thinking.

And then his cool fingers slid over her back, making her draw a small breath at the unexpected sensation as a million goose-bumps unfolded all over her body. The touch ended at the bandage covering her shoulder, and she clenched her jaws together as he pulled off the tape securing it there. He removed the bandage. Then she felt a sting as he cleaned the wound and she drew another breath. Soon his fingers were moving around the cut, inspecting it. Then something cool was put on and finally a fresh bandage.

"It's getting there," he said.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Thanks."

A blonde lock of hers slowly slid from behind her ear and down over her nose and before he could stop it he had reached out one hand, his fingers gently pushing the lock back, fastening it again. Her eyes didn't leave his face and he removed his hand with a sudden twist somewhere inside of him.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he said, rising.

"Spike..." she said, grabbing the sheet and covering herself as she sat up. "Don't go."

"I have to. Business, pet. I'll be back in... a few hours."

"You already said that." He grabbed his duster. "You can't keep running away," she stated, voice lowered.

"Running?" he asked, suddenly smiling. "From what?"

She fixed him with a long look and then answered:

"From me."

"Don't be daft," he said, still smiling. "I'll be back..."

"... in a few hours," she filled in and with that he was out of sight.

She sighed, curling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them, making a face as the wound let hear its objection.

¤

"Ateh nomad lirg. Girfa dreg," the demon greeted and Spike gave a nod. "Are you sure you wish to part with these?" it added, holding up the two items Spike had opted to sell.

"Need the money, mate," the vampire replied. "Three hundred."

The demons eyes flared red.

"Lirg cotha dworg, you drive a hard bargain," it then muttered, digging out a wad of bills and peeling three off it.

"Only when I have to."

Spike took the money, stuffing it into one pocket of his duster before turning.

"The Slayer," the demon said, "is it true what they say? She is weakened."

Spike looked over his shoulder at the creature, then replied:

"Not yet."

"But you will let the rest of us know."

He smirked; then continued on his way, the glee soon fading as he entered the streets of downtown. So, the word was out. It had only been a matter of time.

He had thought she was going to die the night prior. He had almost taken her to the Watcher's, but had then shied away from that alternative, knowing that she would be kept away from him for sure. Confused and dazed with unfamiliar worry he had brought her to the crypt and patched her up as best he knew how. He had paced the floor for hours, trying to make sense of himself. One moment wanting her gone more fervently than ever and almost running up to tear the wound open again, to hell with temporary explosions to the brain. The other moment trying to stay still and calm, for her, feeling as though she needed it more than anything else. Watching her sleep he finally had dragged himself up to the crypt and stayed there, only checking on her sporadically and hoping that the sudden longing within him would abate.

¤

He got back to the crypt nearly four hours later. He had been in a brawl with two demons and killed both of them, but hadn't been able to rid himself of the sudden sensation of not only doing it for the killing's sake. This had made him go home as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Buffy!" he barked as he stumbled through the door. "Buffy!"

He looked around the room and felt like his stomach was imploding as his mind began to race with possible scenarios and reasons for her not being there. She had been abducted, she had been slaughtered, she had left.

"She's left," he repeated it to himself, very convincingly.

He walked through the empty crypt and climbed down the ladder, feeling relief mixed with a loneliness he wasn't sure he could deal with. He slipped the duster off his shoulders and proceeded up to the bed, stopping at the foot of it as his eyes rested on her sleeping form. He smiled, tilting his head to the side before slowly walking around to get a better angle at her face. She looked peaceful. Not like last night, when she had been shaky and sweaty and weak.

"You're not," he said, sitting down beside her. "You're not weak, love... I realized that a long bloody time ago. And you're not weakened. This is a phase, one you'll get out of. You'll be back to your old self..."

He trailed off, eyeing her and then carefully lying down next to her.

"If I get you killed when you're like this – the other you'll come back to haunt me, kick me around the sodding crypt all day and not let me get any sleep. Make me put up those bleeding curtains after all..." He smiled a little at the thought, then it disappeared. "I'm not putting up curtains."

"With cream," she mumbled and he blinked, then the smile was reborn.

"What?" he whispered.

"Tea with biscuits and cream," she answered sleepily. "And your mother was there saying 'How lovely'..."

He reached out a hand and carefully brushed a few strands away from her face, but she moved a little at the touch and he retracted his hand swiftly, folding it against his chest and staring at her in anticipation of her eyes opening. They didn't and he soon relaxed, feeling pretty dumb.

"What am I doing with you?" he murmured.

¤

The next morning she woke up with his arms around her. Her own were folded between them, and as she looked up she could see his chiseled chin, the outline of his jaw, and she noted that he was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Then again, when did he ever wear anything but black jeans and a black T?

She drew in his scent, let it dance through her nostrils and go straight to her head.

She shifted slightly just to get the sense of what his body felt this close to hers.

Then she shut her eyes and let herself fall back asleep.

¤

At six thirty-seven in the evening he opened his eyes and turned his head, expecting not to be alone in the bed for the first time in a very long time. When he in fact turned out to be, he brutally ignored the feeling of discontent and threw the covers off, getting up with a huff.

"Oh, stay in," her voice rang from the ladder, and soon she emerged from the shadows, carrying a mug. "Made you breakfast in bed," she added, trying a smile.

He smiled back, and she handed him the mug before sitting down on the edge of the bed. He did as well, feeling foolish and uncertain of what he should say.

"Thanks," he finally murmured, vamping out and drinking his breakfast in a few hard gulps.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then looked at her, noticing that she was studying him carefully.

"Does it hurt, when you change?" she asked.

"No."

"What does it feel like?"

"Muscle cramp. For a second."

"And you can do it whenever you want?"

"Pretty much." He put the mug down on the floor. "How's the shoulder?"

She moved it a little.

"Better," she replied. "Seems to be done with the achies... Guess I'll have a scar."

She whined.

"What now?"

"Just... the beach and every nice evening dress I'll ever wear again and..."

She whined once more, this time it made him smirk.

"Take it from me, love, you don't scar very easily."

"Neither do you, but look at that," she remarked with a nod to his eyebrow.

"This? It was done with a specially forged weapon... in the hands of a special lady... Otherwise, it wouldn't have lasted."

She looked at it, then asked:

"May I?"

He felt something not far from a twirl in the pit of his stomach, and then he silently consented to her request; having her slide closer and reach up a hand to softly touch the spot. His nose nearly brushed her jaw as she stretched to have a better look, his gaze traveling to her neck. One of his hands without intention moved to the small of her back and he carefully pushed her nearer.

The feel of his sudden grip around her made her shift her head back to rest her eyes in his. A throbbing appeared out of nowhere, a need that was stronger than she had ever felt it before, the passion behind her growing emotions for him unraveled itself in the blink of an eye and she pressed herself tighter to him as she parted her lips for the kiss.

Suddenly there was a loud bang from upstairs.

"What was that?" he asked, rising and making her slide off the bed with a squeal and a thud.

"Me breaking my ass," she muttered, looking up at him accusingly.

"Bloody hell, the wankers should know better than to break in 'ere!" he growled, stepping over her legs and heading for the ladder.

She got to her feet, rubbing her lower back and frowning at his behavior. Though was she surprised? Whoever was upstairs, she was more than ready to take them on. Walking in Spike's footsteps she halted, running back up to the bed and bending down to dig out a stake from the stash he kept underneath it. Climbing up the ladder she stopped half way as she heard the punches being delivered suddenly stopping, an unknown voice exclaiming:

"Hand her over, Spike!"

"I don't know what the hell got into your dish tonight, but walk it off!"

"She's here. We know she is. Guess we shouldn't expect anything else from you, though it's pretty pathetic of you to protect her like this. Thought you'd at least still want her dead..."

Buffy poked her head out of the hole just as Spike slammed the fledgling against a wall, gripping its throat.

"Watch your mouth, mate. You don't know a flaming thing."

The other vampire smirked, then the expression was replaced with burning hatred.

"You got a way to get rid of her, so get rid of her!" it hissed. "If it gives you too much of a headache we would most gladly finish the task for you."

Spike let the other go with a low growl, pointing to the door.

"There's nothing here," he stated. "I dunno if the sodding rumors are true, I haven't seen the Slayer for weeks. Now get out."

"They're not rumors," another voice said and as Buffy looked to the right she noticed two more vamps by the door. "I saw her run. And you're lying, Spike, 'cause you were with her."

"Yeah? Got a big mouth on you, but if you saw her run, why didn't you follow?"

"I was busy," the vamp replied between clenched jaws. "She's losing power. And the right moment is just around the corner. We're gathering our forces, Spike. Adam is leading us toward glory, and the death of the Slayer will mark the beginning."

Spike raised his eyebrows.

"I'll remember that," he assured half-heartedly as the three demons left.

He shut the door behind them, turning his head to Buffy as she stepped up into the room.

"Gee," she said, "talk about doom's day cometh."

"Oh, it's coming alright," he nodded.

She held his gaze at that and after a while he smiled slightly, walking up to her. She was about to say something when he stated:

"You can't go out tonight."

"There's no need to overreact!"

"Buffy, you can't hold your own out there."

"I can too hold my own! Spike, you can't tell me what I can and can't do." He raised his eyebrows and produced a pout on her mouth. "You just pretty much said you still want me dead... Was that a lie?" He stared at her, his expression unreadable, and then she gave him a little push as she exclaimed: "You can't seriously wanna lock me up. And don't tell me it's what's best for me!"

"Wasn't considering locking you up – especially since no locks I've got could hold you, if you put your mind to it." He paused, holding her gaze before adding: "I can't have you die on my watch, love."

"Right," she murmured. "Something happens to me: something happens to you. Only how can I kill you if I'm already dead?"

He merely smiled weakly and she shook her head.

"So train me," she said. He did a double take, then he blinked. "What? It's not the worst idea," she continued. "Teach me. Like Giles did."

"Have you gone completely off your rocker!" he sputtered and she took a step back. "I will not!"

"I can't go to Giles now, you get that, right? He'll... shoot me with a tranquilizer dart and chain me to the bathtub." Spike was about to protest, but then he could do nothing but nod in agreement. "You're the only one who can help me. Spike, please. Please."

She gave him such an earnest look that he felt the tightness along his spine slowly melt away, and he began to relax.

"I am nothing like the poof, so don't expect repeating whatever he managed to conjure up," he grumbled and a smile spread on her lips. "We'll spar. You and I. Briefly. That should do it."

Her smile widened.

"And are you doing this because you don't wanna be all lonely at the Bronze, or because..."

"To hell with the cause," he interrupted. "This is confusing as it is, just change into something comfortable and I'll move the sodding furniture."