Friends (Or More)

By Sweetprincipale

Author's Note:Thank you! Oh my goodness, some of you lovely readers make my day! Thank you to those of you have purchased the book CrossRealms: Shattered by S.C. Principale. The book is based off of 'A Model Romance" if any of you read that work (one of my early Spuffy pieces). It is free with Kindle Unlimited: Cross-Realms-Shattered-S-C-Principale-ebook/dp/B07RZ8T8GR

Also- Thank you for reviewing these chapters. I was going to stop writing- pretty much did for two years. You are bringing me back, folks. Maybe one day I'll be brave enough to answer reviews ;)

Second note: Picks up immediately from the end of the last chapter.

Part VI

"I would kill for this comforter set! Where'd you get it?"

"Nicked it!"

"Oh. Well… I can kinda see why," Buffy lit candles with his lighter. She thought it made sense to go down first and light their way. Her Slayer training also told her to check for threats and traps, but her friendly instincts told her she'd find nothing dangerous. Well - she glanced around at a case full of weapons and a bunch of intimidating looking books and relics stuffed on top of them -nothing threatening to her, anyway. And the bed- king sized, covered in plush red sheets, all silks and satins. "I didn't think this was your taste."

"I can kip anywhere. I had this - before." For Dru. To please her. There was a lace canopy as well, but he didn't bother with it now.

Buffy mentally kicked herself. His whole unlife- he thought of her. Angel freaked when I wanted a drawer for my stuff. No comparing!

But I'm totally comparing. Her throat clogged up, and she caught the faint whiff of smoke that had nothing to do with menthols. She looked around and identified some charring on the bottom of the chest of weapons. Right. Because she torched the place.

Wicked demons. Murderers. Spike, the old Spike, he deserved that, right?

My friend has pretty much nothing, but he doesn't complain. He's oddly content… except in one thing. Same thing I want, but don't want anyone to know about.

Suddenly, dry runs, even with someone severely limited in his range of motion, seemed like the best idea in the universe.

"If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll bite you. An' look at the position I'm in. I could make good on that threat," Spike snarled, low and menacing.

"I could drop you first," Buffy returned sweetly.

"That's an excellent point." Spike looked heavenward. This is my final humiliation for the night, right? Riding half "piggyback" on the Slayer as she navigates the shakiest ladder known to demon, good leg dangling off uselessly 'cause I can't shift around without hurting myself or sending her down- which would also hurt me, since I'm the "passenger."

"I won't tell," Buffy gagged at the necessary pressure of his arm against her throat. "For one thing-" She missed a step and they fell heavily, cursing. "For one thing," she concluded, "you just broke my windpipe."

"See your windpipe and raise you a hairline fracture," Spike quipped, staggering to the bed with her help.

"I'm so sorry!" Buffy was genuinely contrite as she watched him fumble for footing.

"Me, too. Hey, now." Spike met her eyes in the candlelight. "Honestly, I'm on the mend, Luv. Don't look miserable for me."

"I don't know how to tell my face to hide my thoughts sometimes," Buffy shrugged.

"Pity doesn't suit me. Though I believe you called me pathetic on a regular basis."

"I'd rather be pathetic for a good cause than noble for a bad one," Buffy realized, joining him on the bed, perching on the edge.

"Oi! Not good… exactly." He looked ill at ease. Love was always good, in his mind. And the rest of the world seemed to put it up there with the greatest good in the universe, so… Shit. Had he been partially good this whole time?

"Love is good." Oh, but not between us. I guess, someday it could- no. Shut up, brain. Tired, fried brain.

"If it was good, you'd think it'd hurt less. Maybe it's a bit evil." He looked slightly cheered by the thought.

"Who said good things don't hurt?" Buffy challenged. "Slaying hurts a LOT." Mentally, physically, emotionally, it ruins wardrobes, relationships, family gatherings, families period.

"Come to the dark side, Luv. We have cookies."

"You what?" Buffy surveyed his face worriedly. Could vampires have concussions?

"Saw it on a bumper sticker," he gave her a crooked grin.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Buffy rolled her eyes. "Your wit is tired."

"Yours is nonexistent," he snarked back.

"Hey!"

"Teasin'!"

Silence fell for a moment, confusion halting speech. We tease? We snipe, we laugh, we have moments where it's all serious.

"Sorry I don't have a radio down here. Or up there. I'll get one someday. Maybe I can talk Willy into rafflin' one." Spike rearranged himself again, trying to find a comfortable position.

"I don't need music."

"I don't think I even have human food in here."

"Spike. I don't need music. I don't want food. I think- all I need is you."

World tilting. All she needs is me?

What did I say? Buffy's mouth popped open in surprise.

Heads tilting.

"Need you, too." Oh no. What did I say that for?

Lips meeting.

He sighed into her much warmer mouth. Oh. I said it 'cause it's starting to be true.

Bodies falling, one gracefully, one with tight shifts. They helped each other down with little hisses of pain and murmurs of worry.

This is what it's like to love someone. To be loved. Her eyes don't waver, don't suddenly skew off, voice doesn't suddenly rant or lilt.

She's sane. Dru wasn't. You loved her madness. It wasn't her fault she was like that. She was made like that.

"It wasn't her fault she couldn't love me properly," Spike whispered in the candlelit room, good arm raised to cradle Buffy's head as she settled in beside him. "I tell myself that."

"Seems like a good thing to say. Probably true. Definitely true." Because if you wanted someone to be there for you, love you devotedly, fight for you, worship you, care for you… he'd do that. He'd annoy you, he'd make tasteless jokes, but he'd do all the other stuff that outweighs that.

"I think it was my fault he couldn't keep loving me."

"What?" Spike sounded genuinely shocked. "Slayer, he had a curse. Curse given to him a century before you were born, so-"

"I think I - I think wanted more than he could give."

"What'd you want, Pet? Tell me."

"Well, when I say it out loud it doesn't sound like a lot, but you have to -"

"-to stop making excuses for him?"

"You make some for her!"

"Tell me." He locked their gazes. When she saw there was nothing barbed in those eyes, simply the face of a friend who would listen, maybe she would open up.

He was right. There was a short struggle, and then it came out in a rush. "I wanted… something normal with him. I know that's dumb, because he wasn't, couldn't be. I'll never be normal, either. I wanted to fool myself for a little bit. I wanted to sleep over at his place, keep some of my stuff there. A little drawer with sweaters and socks and a brush. I wanted to talk about the future, even if we didn't know what it would be. I wanted… someone who knew I couldn't have it, but would try to give it to me anyway," she ended in a whisper, eyes down.

And that's bad? Spike felt his temper prickling."Look sweetheart, that's what people in love do. Sod it all if you aren't normal, love doesn't give two shits about normal. When you love someone, you make your own bloody normal!" His voice turned to a low roar, anger at Angelus for the way he'd mucked up two wonderful women suddenly channeled into one speech.

"Very profanely profound," Buffy acknowledged after a moment. He's pretty profound in general, under the cursing and snarking. Angel said a lot of "big things." Spike… He does, too. And he lives them out. "You just accepted her the way she was. That was your normal."

"Until she left me. For good. Yeah. An' the last time, it was my fault. Love's a bitch. It hurts. Normal is whatever you make it. But… it shouldn't hurt all the time. Not all the time," his voice faded to nothing.

"You keep getting hurt with me around."

"That's just physical stuff. Patches up fast. Inside… you confuse me a bit. You annoy me a bit."

"I annoy you?"

"Lemme finish! I don't hurt around you, Slayer, not in the way that I wanna change. The inside scars are the worst ones, and you don't leave those on me. Besides, you have a healing touch, might work wonders on whatever scars are formin' on my ruggedly handsome exterior." He turned his face into her hand as she stroked his cheek.

"Kiss 'em better," she laughed into his collarbone and pecked her lips softly up and over, fingers caressing as they both relaxed.

"How much better are you aimin' to make me?" Spike let out a low growling breath in a few minutes, one that was meant to remind her not to get carried away. To remind himself of that as well.

Buffy paused. She could make him better. Really better. Slayer blood was powerful. It had cured Angel who was pretty much guaranteed to die. But that was a lot. A little ought to at least do something for fractures. "I wish I could make you one hundred percent better."

"I… I want that, Luv, but I'm not a fool- all the time. Do things with my 'friend' before she's sure, an' she'll… leave. Run off, all nervous and doubting. That'd make a mark in me, Slayer. That's the kind of scar tissue I have enough of."

He thought I meant - physical stuff. Different physical stuff. "Are you sure you want to?"

"No. Slayer, I - did I mention you confuse me?"

"Right before the intense kissing, yes." Buffy bit down a laugh.

"That's not fair! I know I want to, I know I'm sure because I'm me! Bloody hell. Now I sound like one of those barmies who has two voices in their heads."

"You do have two faces. Literally on your head. Although, you do take turns, so at least you're not like some two-headed fr -"

"Buffy!" Spike glared.

"Shutting up. Go ahead."

"There's this gorgeous, stong, hot woman- who's sweet an' amazin' to me, and she…" Spike paused, well aware that anything he could say, truly anything, could backfire. "She's giving us a chance, even though it's sudden and unexpected. I love bein' with you. I'd love to do anything you want, Slayer. I just don't want to get hurt when you decide it was too soon and you tear outta here." An' you tear part of my heart out with you.

"Spike, I wouldn't hurt someone like that. I've already been on the receiving end of that."

"Me, too. Just the bein' left part, didn't matter if it was after a night of passion or for no particular reason."

"So," Buffy gathered up her courage. "Not that I'm rushing into stuff, but if we did, I don't think you would leave, either."

"It's a deal."

"Deal."

Wait. Did we just agree to do what I think we agreed to do? Buffy gave him a panicked sideways glance.

"It's just ground rules, Luv. Basic decency, workin' out the rules of engagement."

Engagement. Buffy let out a hysterical giggle.

"Slayer! I'm too weak to have another go round. Settle yourself!" Spike hissed.

At the mention of his weakness, she sobered. "I wanted to make you better."

He licked his lips. Yes! Take her up on it. Pull her on top, tell her to drive this ride, tell her you'll return the favor later, when you're not broken. Strength for strength, tender for tender, any way she gives it to you, you can return it. You've got decades on her, you could have her begging for you night and day if you … No. "I'd love that, Slayer. I'm too busted to take you up on it."

She sat up and peered down on him, eyebrows knitted. "You just gave me the out."

"I'm held together with denim and skin, Precious, I need the out," Spike snarled, not meeting her eyes.

"No, you really don't." And that makes me crazy about him. Suddenly, extreme ramped up levels of crazy. Buffy lunged her lips down, stopping short to make sure she didn't put any weight on him.

She could have you begging night and day, too. Spike groaned into her hungry kisses. "Too good for me." He seized her shoulder and used her for leverage, scooting up a bit to kiss her back. "Friends oughta stop about here," he warned her.

"Agreed," Buffy's mouth managed a word between kisses. We're not friends. No, we are, but we're waiting to be something else. It's not if, it's when. Weird, but I like it. Like him.

The more he tucked her into the satiny softness of his bed, with the hardness of his arm and chest against her, the more she realized she felt safe with him. The more the rest of the world and the past blotted from her brain. There's only me and him. We can make our own normal, if we want.

"Friends stop at kisses and cuddles," Buffy agreed. "And taking care of."

"You've done wonders, Buffy," he easily admitted.

"You have blood on your clothes."

"It happens. Risks of the profession. Yours, too. Gotta get me that bleach pre-wash thing you mentioned."

"Do you have stuff to change into?"

"Uh- yeah." Spike looked startled.

Her lips twisted into the cute half-smirk he was beginning to find adorable, not punchable."Not like I'm trying to undress you for less than upstanding reasons-"

Something of mine is pretty damn upstanding at this moment, and she probably knows that. "You want to do laundry?"

"Maybe you'll win the raffle for that washer," Buffy winked. "Seriously, do you want me to help you get into some clean clothes?"

"I don't think I can get my arm out of this shirt yet, Luv. I don't have a lot of wardrobe at the moment, so maybe we'd better leave it intact. I don't think you can get it off unless you tear me outta it."

Tearing off Spike's clothes. "Does your mind go to really… odd places sometimes during our conversations?" she asked tentatively.

"Not odd, exactly. Definitely not platonic, let's say. But always tasteful!" Spike hastened to clarify. It wasn't exactly a lie… people had different definitions of tasteful, after all. Then- "Why? Does yours?"

Her answering blush made him chuckle. "I'm flattered," he purred, running one finger along her arm. She stiffened, suddenly giving him a look that was a cross between bashful and uncomfortable. "Not allowed to enjoy the fact it's not one-sided? C'mon, Slayer. You're the poster girl for unselfish. I already shared what you do to me. Don't mind if I get an inkling from you," he coaxed.

"I'm still waiting for someone to turn obnoxious and throw any weakness back in my face."

"I was already obnoxious. You've known my weaknesses for years, Luv." And now you're one of them. "Done with hurtin' each other. From now on, I'll only throw nice things in your face."

"Um. Thank you?"

" Damn. Maybe I'm lightheaded," he laughed off his clumsy speech. "You know what I mean?"

"Yes, I got it," Buffy allowed herself to relax against his light touch and they shared a smile. He means he thinks of me like I think of him. He's not ashamed to admit it, he doesn't want to make me uncomfortable, he doesn't want to rush. He wants to be happy and not get hurt.

Isn't that whall the normal people want, a happy, non-harm-y relationship? He could be my normal. I could be his. It could be mutual. It could be loyal.

One day, it could be more. The L-word loomed near recently broken hearts and wasn't ready to risk another attempt.

"You wanna spend the night or head home, Luv?" Spike finally asked as they resumed their semi-spooning positions, face to face, hands on faces and shoulders and waists, nothing overtly sexual even though it had gone beyond mere friendliness. "I'm no advert for desirable bedfellows, I admit that," he gestured to his stiffly angled body, trying to keep weight off injured parts, blood spattered clothes that wouldn't be removed. Only a fool would take you up on that, William.

"If you have indoor plumbing, I'm fine," Buffy agreed.

"I have a semi-human friendly loo. There's a tap and a toilet. I think there might be the toilet roll to go with it."

"My place wins on the amenities," Buffy wandered down the little side tunnel, past a network of hanging roots, holding her breath that nothing creepy would drop on her.

Spike listened to water running and exclamations of dismay over the state of the facilities. I'm gonna have to move.

No. No way, this place is fine, rent free and I don't -

-want her to feel uncomfortable around me or have to rush off.

Putting yourself at risk, bein' love's bitch again. Worse. Like's bitch. Beyond like, but still...

Buffy came back and crawled shivering into bed beside him. "Your 'loo' is freezing. And dark and creepy, no offense."

"Matches the owner," he joked.

"It's functional, so points for that," Buffy chattered, moving in closer to him, even though he wasn't warm. Somehow, pressed together, he felt like he created warmth. And safety. Healing.

"Functional. Partially matches the owner." They laughed and while his mind was relaxing, it did one of those gambles that he hadn't planned out. "I can't afford to move outta here."

"I understand!" she said quickly.

"I bet we could make it more user friendly, if you were gonna visit on a regular basis."

"I'd like that. The visiting. Not the renovations. I can deal." Her hand lingered on his cheek. "You deal with a lot."

"So do you." His touch mirrored hers.

"Sometimes you want to give someone something that'll make it easier for them. You know it might be completely weird and wrong, but you just…"

"Don't care, because it'll make 'em happy?"

"Yeah," she whispered. Her heart sped up as they moved closer. Lips returned to each other, and his hand snaked past her side, holding onto her back.

Little sounds of passion mingled with sharp huffs when a twinge from one of his injuries made itself known. Every breath, every noise intensified the strange thought in both minds.

Don't care about the big bad rep. Don't care about the past. Care about now. Anything to make 'em happy. Make her happy. An' selfishly, I'm happy when she's happy around me. I hate how she erases what's bad in me… He pulled her closer, a gasping sound arising when her elbow accidentally slid into his ribs.

She winced with him and redoubled her attention to his lips. Don't care about the past. If it hurt before. If it scared me before. If he and I hated each other before. I'd love for him to be better, right now. Or at least sooner. I could help. It'd make him happy. And, so weird- I'm happy around him, and I'd feel happy if he was happy.

"I-" Buffy couldn't make words. Her stomach didn't knot in the cold, sick way it had before that night in the ally. It knotted in an apprehensive way. He wouldn't reject this. But what would happen next? Was this a line you didn't cross? Yes!

But I've already crossed a line. Her hands buried in his hair, letting go of everything but him. What's one more?

"It's all gonna be okay. Between us," Spike swallowed, the taste of her in his mouth, the scent of her hair and the sound of her heartbeat drugging him. "I'll - we-" I'd help you have normal. We could make some kinda normal, you and I.

She stopped, rising up slightly, eyes on his, shining in the gray, shadowy alcove. Sex would be easier. Maybe. I don't know. I don't know a lot of things anymore. "I'm supposed to have it all together," Buffy's thoughts manifested in a tiny whisper.

"So 'm I. Had so long to get it right. I'm starting all over again." He found her hand and their fingers locked, naturally.

"New beginnings." Buffy smiled wanly.

"What we're all about, you an' I," he returned her smile, wondering where this was leading.

Try something new. It's not new, it's old, it's… Buffy ran one fingertip along the swollen portion of his face. It's complicated. "It's complicated."

"Ah. That's what they say before it goes belly up." Spike tried to sit. Not going to be given the shove while lying down. Seemed less dignified somehow.

"I don't want to go belly up! Us! Or me!"

"Normal might be a touch complicated at times," Spike said, using the British gift for understatement. "Mainly because people have to read so much into everything. I'm as bad as the next one, Luv. Heart gets too involved."

"The heart's involved?" she mouthed, barely audible.

Spike gave her a classic deer in the headlight's look. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

But she didn't say it back. She didn't say anything.

"Slayer-"

"Shhh. I'm not good with words."

This would leave a bitter taste, but had to be said. "I think you are."

"Proof you're mega-injured." Her smile returned, gentle lips set in tight jaws.

He couldn't figure it out. Not tonight, and he was already using up a lot of his limited supply of patience. Her signals were muddled, her body pulling toward his, but her motions weren't sexual, and then throw in all the back and forth of this disjointed conversation and being sore and damaged. "What's happening?" he finally asked, hating not knowing, feeling suddenly like he had Drusilla and her bunged up brain to deal with again.

Her jacket was already off. Slid her shirt down low, not off, pulling one shoulder free. Laying down again, slightly above him, neck at mouth height.

Holy shit.

"Get better," she whispered, lips to his forehead.

"I am better. Infinitely better." His lips moved, but his eyes were riveted to the expanse of peach tan before him. Eyes taking in the miniscule twitch of her jugular.

"I'm not shaking." This time.

"I know."

"So go ahead. It's okay, Spike"

Demon crept out, and he was too tempted to stop it at first, but his features flashed and reverted in the space of a heartbeat. "If I drink- it won't be much. Because I said no more hurting you. But, if I drink… maybe I lose anything we've got. An'I don't want to get better at that price. All I want… is to keep what I have."

"Not more?" She didn't move, and her voice wasn't challenging.

"Not more. Have a bad feeling this kind of 'more' ends up leading to less."

"Stupid vampire," Buffy sighed sweetly, the affection in her eyes not matching the epithet.

"Again with being confused."

"This isn't how I push you away. This is how I… show you. That it's okay. Between us, it's okay. My friend is going to get better. I'm going to be with him. I'm going to help him. Like he helps me, from the heart." She closed her eyes tight and steeled herself for the admission. 'Cause my heart's involved, just like his."

Her eyes slowly opened. He was looking at her with awed eyes. A moment of staring down, then staring at, taking each other in. Her slow nodding gaining his, heads gingerly leading the way back together. "Here," he ran a finger along her slender arm, feeling for the soft, slight pad of cushion above muscle.

"Here what?"

"Just a kiss, Luv. With teeth."

"Necks are traditional."

"We aren't."

"True."

"Won't hurt if you let me do it my way."

"If you do it wrong, you know I can-"

"End me before I blink? Yep, I know that." He suddenly gave her a full-on saucy smirk. "I think that's why this'll work, Slayer. In our own little way, this madness is about equal. Didn't you say you'd fight me to first blood?"

She let out a little hysterical chuckle before she could stop herself. "I don't think you're in any shape to fight."

"Already fought off 150 horsepower, Baby. Blood has been spilled. All mine. Couple nights in a row."

"Again, true." That's right. I've been safe each night I've been with him. He saved me, got hurt. He helped me, got hurt. He came to visit, did my homework, saved my best friend- and got hurt.

"You win. First blood was mine. You're just makin' it fair."

It wasn't about fair, or equal, or fighting. But he knew she'd feel better if somehow it was, if it could be tallied up and broken down like that.

"That's only a part of it. Little bitty part," Buffy whispered. Her eyelids were suddenly on flicker as his tongue did something undeniably erotic to her arm. "Holy - how? My arm does not have those kind of nerve endings."

"Relax and I'll help you find more of 'em. Speaking of little bitty parts…" His hand laid on her hip and worked its way up until it his the light underwire on her rib. "Was it just last night?"

"When we were 'close'?" Last night, give or take a million years and a million miles away…

"Weak for you."

"What we have isn't a weakness, since it's mutual. You won't leave. I won't leave."

"This won't be every night, or every time. This isn't why I … this isn't why I want to be with you, Buffy."

"I get that. I really do. Otherwise…" Buffy's heart did a tapdance as his thumb traced over her breast, finding the peak. "We wouldn't do this."

"Trust me. Friend to friend," he echoed the words from last night.

Words stuck in her throat, then slowly escaped as she relaxed. "I do, Spike. Trust you."

"I won't make you regret it." The words came to him so readily. This is going to happen. This is the more, beyond friends. Once you share blood and she's not your victim, she's… part of your life.

Well, she was meant to be. You came looking for her. You just didn't know why.

Electrical currents zipped up her spine and made her arch up into his hand. "Oh, oh, ohhh, wow. This is new." Angel didn't do this. Parker was handsy and grabbing, but it didn't feel like this. This was blatantly orgasmic and she hadn't even known that was possible in this location.

His hand kept busy, working through the outside of the material while his lips took a tour of her mouth, collarbone, up and down her arm. "You've got Slayer senses. All of your body was built for a little extra attention. An' I was built to give it."

"A match." She let her hand wind down to his hip, and stay there, fingers curling into belt loops.

"A match," he repeated wonderingly.

His head was nestled against her side, hand busy at the opposing breast. He heard her sigh, and her heartbeat slowed.

"This is so weird. So relaxed. Like I could sleep and all the bad things would go away, and only good things like nummy nipple feelings and super comfy beds and a super handsome man are the only things left in the world."

His lips made a circle on the pulse above her inner elbow. "You said handsome man. Not handsome vamp."

"I know you're a vampire, but you're my man, too, aren't you?" Her hand shifted his fingers and her back arched as he flicked a sensitive tip.

Oh. I just said he's…

Oh. "Yeah. That's right. I'm your man. You're my Slayer." His face shifted, parts shifted below. This is my Slayer. Third time is the charm. This one is mine. This one is mine. "My beautiful, sweet Slayer." He reverently kissed her arm and his teeth slid in.

She gasped, a pinch that throbbed, but it throbbed in a good way, radiating through breasts and hips, and instead of jerking away like she should have done from a biting vampire, she rolled and convulsively dug her nails into his scalp, jaw locked, eyes closed, panting as her head curled down to his.

He was done in only a few seconds. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to drink her. And this Slayer was more than just powerful. She was special.

She's my drug. My wonder drug. Bones were strengthening, pain was ebbing out as he lifted her up with both arms now. Oh, he wasn't fully restored, but it was a huge leap. "My girl."

"I guess so. Guess I am." Buffy watched him lick his lips and didn't feel revulsion or fear. She felt… connected.

"You all right?" he asked. Her eyes were sleepy and starry looking, not the sight he'd expected to see.

"Yeah! And you are, too!" Her joy was instant as she realized two good arms were now around her. "Wow. That fast?"

"There's something special about you, Buffy. Part of it's the 'Slayer' side. The rest is all you, Baby."

She didn't tell him he was special. He didn't mind. Her lips were busy.

"I can walk you home."

"Resting is better. How many days would it take you to completely heal?"

"I just accelerated the rate with my little aperitif, Pet."

"What pair of teeth?" Buffy looked puzzled.

"A shot of you does a body good." Spike smirked.

"Spike, I'm serious."

He hesitated. "I suppose we are, Luv. However this goes or how long it takes… if neither of us wants to leave…"

"I meant I seriously wanted to know how long it would be before your bones weren't crunchy."

He answered without missing a beat, blanching inside. "I bet tomorrow night I'll be fine. How about I do the sweep and you handle Red?"

"How about I handle Willow, you heal, and I drop in after patrolling on the way over?"

"I'm not a-"

"How are we going to delve into this whole new 'seriousness' if you keep getting broken and zapped?" Buffy rolled away from him, letting his arm drape over her waist. She yawned, but her brain has just had a moment of high energy panic. Serious? Serious!? There's no serious between Spike and me!

Yes, there is. Don't waste time lying. It doesn't help.

"I'm not tryin' to hurry you along, Luv. I just meant… well. There's no one else I want- anymore." They let their mutually aching memories have a moment of silence before he pressed ahead with a resolute smile. "So I'll be here. Not leavin'. Which is quite-"

"-serious," Buffy concluded. "Are you freaking?"

"Bloody hell, yes."

"Me, too."

Then why isn't she running out of here? Why aren't I? This has all the potential to bugger up everything. Everything, full stop.

"We could freak out together?" she suggested quietly.

"We seem to make a good team."

"Exactly."

"And I like bein' with you."

"I like that, too."

He tangled his hand in her hair, curling it and stroking it. "Beautiful."

"Thank you," her sleepy body felt a momentary surge of interest, but it muted itself quickly. "It hurt so bad. The last time."

Her and Angel. Him and Dru. "I know that sorta pain."

"I'm not scared of you. I'm still scared of other stuff that might go along with you. Being together."

"Only a fool isn't afraid of pain. Fear is natural. It's the body's way of protectin' itself."

"Aren't you going to do some big speech about how I don't have to be scared this time?" That's what Angel would do. Swear to protect the teenager who knows more about diet soda than holy water.

"Why? I am. I don't want you to get hurt, so why would I tell you not to trust your instincts and- mmmpph!" Spike's eyes shot open and his words crashed to a halt from the sudden tornado of blonde and pink kissing him to silence.

"That was perfect. And if you ever tell anyone I said you were perfect, I'll stake you." She pulled back, eyes fierce.

"Duly noted," Spike muttered as kisses resumed. "We're never gonna get any sleep if you keep this up."

"I do need sleep. I have to fake my way through classes tomorrow, plus Willow, plus patrol, and then you. I'll probably come in, sit down- and fall asleep. Oh my God. Do I snore? Do I drool? Wake me if I snore or drool!" Buffy blurted, hand to her forehead, pretty eyes comically wide.

"It's fine, Luv!" Spike laughed. "I'll be happy to see you, however much you dribble. Oi!" he took a light slug to his uninjured arm. "I'll sleep along beside you. The more rest I get, the better for the bones, I reckon."

They laughed. They sighed. He thought she was almost out. Then-

"Spike?"

"What, Slayer?"

"Guys get pushy after a certain number of 'dates'. Like three or four."

Which, if we count the various disasters we've endured together lately, we're right about there, Spike mentally calculated. "Yeah? Then push 'em back. I'm immortal. I don't have any pressing appointments, Slayer."

"So if we get to move beyond friends… I mean, since we did…" Yeah. Not going to waste time lying to myself, either. Denial looks gross on me and so does clueless.

Lights and pinballs were pinging about in his chest, but his voice was calm. She said it, flat out. We're beyond friends. Could I get that in writing? "Yes?"

"You don't mind if it just stays here, at this level for awhile, right? Without..."

"I don't mind."

Talking about the future, even if we don't know what it is. Little plans. Pick up the bleach stuff, wash the clothes. Who covers patrol? Help the friends, make his place "user friendly", helps with the homework, bring back breakfast and blood.

This is normal. My insanely abnormal version of normal. Her shoulders relaxed as she let out a breath she felt like she had been holding for almost three years.

But look who it's with. This is wrong. And pretty terrifying. Mostly because I think I might not care, because everything that I did "right" went wrong, so where does starting off wrong lead to? Someplace right?

I don't know.

Spike felt the pliant shoulders suddenly stiffen and her breathing came out in a sharp gasp. He instinctively hugged her more tightly, head against hers, lips to her ear. "I've got you."

Yeah. He kind of does. But… I've got him, too. "I know. And I'm glad."

To be continued...