Buffy came awake slowly the next morning, snuggled down deep into a warm cocoon of blankets. A stream of gentle, mid-morning sunlight was drifting in through the window, a light breeze lifting the curtains and carrying the sounds of bird chatter and the drone of a distant lawnmower to her ears. For a minute she felt calm, contented somehow, like things were right and normal, and she emerged slowly from her nest of quilts with a stretch and a yawn, the way she might on any other weekend.

It wasn't until she saw the paint-spattered t-shirt hanging off of her dresser drawer that she remembered.

Spike had come back.

Come back and promised to…

Oh God, the phone!

Lurching out of bed, she almost clocked her head off the vanity chair when her feet got tangled in a knot of sheets, just managing to catch herself before she bashed her brains in. Scrambling for the hallway, her heart crashed behind her ribs, tightening her throat almost to the point of suffocation as she stumbled to the stairs, sliding hard down the last three when her heel slipped. Running for the kitchen portable, she barreled hard through the door, only to come to a skidding stop at the sight that greeted her.

Dawn was seated at the island bar, still in her pajamas but significantly less mussed as she'd washed her face and combed her hair since Buffy had last seen her being tucked into her bed. Spike's leather duster was draped across the stool next to her, the vampire himself standing at the stove with his back to her. The curtains were drawn, keeping the kitchen dim and cool, protected from the dangerous light outside, and there was such a calm domesticity to the whole thing that she immediately felt the tension begin to go from her shoulders. Turning round, Spike lifted a pan and slid a huge, golden pancake onto a plate, pushing it across to her little sister who accepted it with eager hands, unaffectedly pouring syrup while Buffy made a choked, whimpering sound deep in her chest.

Jumping just a little at the sight of her, anxious and rumpled in the doorway, Spike immediately dropped the skillet back onto the stove with a clang and crossed to her side, his hands light on her elbows as he searched her face for something she couldn't name.

"Buffy, pet?" he murmured, and the concern in his voice was painful. "You all right?"

"The… the phone," she managed to stammer. "The doctors…"

"Here, come on, sit," he urged, easing her towards the stool beside Dawn, scooping up his duster. "You look like you're about to drop."

"Oh god, don't…" she warbled, her mind jumping right back into a tailspin. "It's never good when they tell you to sit…"

"Hey, no, no," he insisted, tucking a finger under her chin and pulling her face up again. "Everything's all right luv. Docs called early this morning; Mum's safe as houses."

"It… she's…?"

"Resting," he reassured, his thumb stroking gently along her jaw without thought. "They took out the rest of the tumor, did a bunch of tests. Said she should be just fine, but they wanted her to rest until this afternoon before any of you lot came to visit, so the Bit an' me thought we'd let you sleep."

"You're not mad are you Buffy?" Dawn asked hesitantly beside her, a little girl's fear still hoarse in her voice from crying the night before.

"Wha… no, Dawnie," she murmured, turning to draw her sister into her arms, even while her mind slowly wound down in a deluge of overwhelming relief. "No, I'm…I'm just really, really happy."

The statement came on a half-hysterical giggle of liberation, the hideous weight of dread and pain and responsibility falling away, and she pulled Dawn forward into a tighter, sweeter hug, both girls breaking down just a little bit with tears and shaking and quiet laughter. Pulling back, she wiped her cheeks, sniffing and tucking her hair behind her ears as Dawn went back to her pancake with significantly more appetite. Spike had gone back to the stove, a small smile playing over his face, and she took a minute to really look at him now that she felt like she could breathe again. He seemed terribly drawn and pale, much more so than usual, and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes. Looking at him she had to wonder how long it had been since he'd last slept.

She didn't doubt for a moment that he'd stayed awake and alert all night, waiting on the call that would name her mother's fate.

She didn't know how she could thank him for that.

She wasn't sure that she'd have been able to sleep if it was Willow or Xander or even Giles who had offered to wait up, but whatever strange affinity Spike had for Joyce - for all the Summers girls - that had been enough for her to trust in him.

Sitting there in her kitchen, Buffy found herself almost overwhelmed with the desire to hug him, to lean into the strength of his chest and rest there as she let the feelings of peace and safety roll over her in waves. Robbed of that chance as he went back to tending the stove where bacon popped and sizzled, she took full advantage of her next best option and snatched his duster from the corner of the island where he'd left it, slipping easily into the leather jacket and tugging the cuffs down over her hands, ducking her face into the lapels and breathing in the cool spice and smoke that was Spike.

Dawn was watching her closely with an arched brow, a knowing little grin playing around her mouth before she turned her gaze over to vampire who had busied himself cooking them breakfast, and who had yet to notice the development.

"Can I have another pancake Spike?" she asked mischievously, even though she still had about a third of the first one left on her plate.

"Course lil Bit," he replied, plating the last of the bacon before lifting the pancake pan and turning back towards the counter.

Buffy had her face mostly tipped down in the hopes that she might catch a more natural reaction out of him if she wasn't staring, and she wasn't disappointed. From the corner of her eye she saw him jolt, shocked into total stillness for all of two seconds before he swallowed hard and pulled himself together. Pushing the pancake towards her along with a bowl full of quartered oranges, he snatched a piece of bacon and crunched it between his teeth, apparently determined not to say anything as he turned away again, but his surprised, pleased, wary side-eye gave his interest away. No doubt he wondered what her game was, and something deep in Buffy's chest gave a happy little lurch, wanting for playful, frisky banter between them.

It probably wasn't the right time.

And maybe being… not so straightforward could even be called cruel, but she wasn't really sure how else to do this. With her mom safely out of danger, she wanted with all her being to just move on, on to something happier and lighter, and that was what hit her like a two-ton wrecking ball when she looked at Spike, his hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck and over his forehead, the weariness on his face and in the slant of his shoulders giving him a young and vulnerable appearance.

Happiness.

Still, she didn't have near the confidence it would take to just come right out and say that. Not after everything that had happened between them over the years. Especially not after what had happened in the last few weeks. Even if she did, she wasn't sure that he would believe a word out of her mouth, not when she'd pushed him away so many times before. She wouldn't blame him, but… it would hurt.

Both of them, she thought.

So maybe she'd just start with a thank-you.

She waited though, till Dawn had finished eating and headed up stairs, claiming the bathroom so that she could shower and change before they headed to the hospital. Buffy lingered, munching syrupy pancakes and chewing on an orange while Spike began piling dishes into the washer, oddly fastidious for someone who lived in a crypt. She thought that was likely due in part to the fact that it was her mom's house. An awkward minute passed when he had finished, leaning back against the counter with his hands behind him curled around the lip of the sink while Buffy watched him silently, until suddenly she couldn't stand the quiet anymore and she caved to the urge that had shadowed her since she'd first come crashing into the kitchen.

Rising slowly from her chair, she rounded the counter and stepped up close, only giving him an inch or two of space to shift up onto his feet, straightening to his full height as he dropped his arms and tilted his head to the side in an attempt to read her meaning. She wasn't quite able to meet his eyes, sure that if she did she would chicken out, so instead she fixed her gaze on his collarbones, took a deep breath, and leaned forward to wrap her arms gently around his waist.

He froze on her, froze up hard, but she couldn't really blame him. It was maybe the first time she'd touched him voluntarily, without violence, in all their lives. She didn't think the night before had counted, not only because she had been a sobbing, hysterical mess but because she'd thrown him to the ground so hard he'd thought she was going to pummel him, even if she hadn't meant to.

This was different, and she hoped that he could feel it as much as she could.

Sighing, she laid her head on his chest and nuzzled her cheek into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, letting her body melt against his as she tightened her hold gently, as sweet an embrace as she could impart, and finally, finally he gave in to it too, the shocked, nervous steel going out of his muscles as his arms came up around her and folded her in, safe and protected inside the circle of his hold.

"Thank you," she whispered, but she knew he could hear, hear the desperate, aching, heartfelt honesty in that single sentiment.

For a minute she thought he was going to draw back, push her away so that he could see her face and judge the truth behind her eyes, but then he made a low, purring sound deep in his chest and dropped his head, pressing his cheek against her hair.

"Said that already," he reminded her quietly.

"I know," she replied. "But I needed to say it again. You promised today would be better. You kept your promise Spike."

"Wasn't me," he protested. "Docs did their part, mum did hers. I just answered the phone."

"You stayed," she corrected. It might not seem like a bog deal to him, but to her it meant the world, and she needed him to understand that. "You stayed, and you took care of Dawn, and you made pancakes. You made me feel safe enough to sleep..."

"Course I stayed," came a half-choked reply, and Buffy's hand stroked down his spine of its own accord, a light, reassuring touch. "I wouldn't…"

"No," she agreed with a smile. "You wouldn't."

A moment of quiet stillness passed and she thought that maybe she hadn't felt this right in a long time, and even though it still scared her a little bit, it wasn't nearly as confusing as it used to be. The past week had been hell, her feelings about the vampire and about herself all tangled up in a horrific, snarled knot, and just as she was slowly coming to terms with the fact that yes, ok, fine, maybe she did like the guy a little, the world had to turn again and send everything over onto its head. She didn't think there were a lot of people out there who would stick by her after such abuse, but Spike had shown his colors once again and come back for more, dropping whatever resentment lingered in him the moment he realized she needed someone. Dropped it to take care of her little sister, of her, and all the while being just as worried for her mom as she was.

She understood what was passed between them, she did. They weren't the same people then, not as they stood today. Today it was harder to see the merit of the argument against him. What did it matter if he didn't have a soul? There were plenty of people in the world who had and still did terrible things. Playing that same tune, she had seen him stand side by side with a soulless Angel and that comparison did him no favors either. Were they the same, one wouldn't have stood up to save the world while the other tried to tear it apart.

No, this man in her arms was all his own, like none she had ever known before. His capacity to care was endless, and it rocked her on her heels to know that somehow, despite all odds, despite not coming close to deserving it, she had earned this man's loyalty.

God, she thought she might actually love this man.