She'd lingered in his embrace as long as she could, not just because she knew it would be awkward pulling apart, but mostly because she didn't want to, and because she felt warm and safe and dammit, content there, resting against his chest in the circle of his arms. In fact it took a lot of effort not to just snuggle up against him like a puppy, but she still had a little bit of dignity left, even after her blubbering break down the night before.

She figured she'd earned it, but didn't want to press her luck much further.

It turned out though that pulling away from him wasn't quite as bad as she thought it would be.

Granted, she did drop her eyes shyly to the floor, and granted, Spike had cleared his throat awkwardly as the low thrum of a purr that'd been coming from his chest was cut short, but it didn't feel bad. The guilt that she'd anticipated didn't come flooding through her, no horror tried to drown her when she forced herself out of the warm, happy little bubble she'd been in when the thought that she might actually love Spike moseyed through her mind.

It just didn't come.

And that was… that was awesome.

No scolding, no self-flagellation… just acceptance.

She liked Spike, felt safe with him, was attracted to him, and so what?

It was her choice, and he made her feel… lighter. Happy.

She wasn't sure where it would've gone from there - she thought she might've been about to say something important, even if it wasn't the right time - but then a door upstairs opened and Dawn was calling down that the shower was free, threatening Buffy with serious consequences if she chose to go through her thirty minute wash-rinse-and-repeat rituals. She was eager to get to the hospital that much quicker and Buffy couldn't blame her, abruptly reminded of the aching need in her chest to see for herself that her mom was all right.

Pulling the lapels of Spike's jacket up to her face, she inhaled long and slow, taking in the cool, spicy, smoky scent of him one more time before she slipped it off and held it out towards him. He hesitated, searching her eyes for something, a trick or a lie, but then he was reaching out and taking it from her gently, holding it in his hands like it was the most fragile of illusions, one that he'd never seen before and wasn't sure what to do with it while she turned away and skipped quickly up the stairs.

She took Dawn's advice in the shower, just giving herself enough of a quick scrub down to banish the feeling of last night's dirt and tears and panic sweat from her skin before climbing out and wrapping herself up tight in a fluffy pink towel. Peeking through a crack in the door, she checked that the hallway was clear before darting across it to her bedroom, feeling strangely exposed and vulnerable even if she was well covered from arm pits to knees, even if Spike had seen her in far less.

She just… felt open in a way she never had before, certainly more so than she had with Parker or Riley, or even Angel.

It was strange and a little uncomfortable, but she knew Spike somehow, the good and the bad of him, and he… he fit her.

There was a terrible history of hate and spilled blood between them but he'd always been honest with her, even to the point of brutality, never anything but himself.

It didn't make sense, but maybe it wasn't supposed to.

Stepping into a pair of ripped jeans and tatty running sneakers, her eye was caught once again by the painted t-shirt that had migrated to the top of the dresser. She was tempted, she was, but she decided to hold back on that just a little longer, until she could get a better read on how Spike was dealing, until she was sure of exactly what she wanted to say. Pulling a plain white t-shirt down over her head instead, she threw her hair up into a rough twist, grabbed her purse and headed for the stairs. She could see her sister standing at the bottom, smiling with bright eyes as she jingled their mom's keys in her palm. By the time she was halfway down the risers Spike had come into view where he was standing just inside the edge of the living room, wearing his duster once more just as he'd always worn it, the slick leather clinging to his chest and shoulders. He was watching Dawn with half a smile and there was a warmth on his face that touched something in her sweetly.

"You guys ready to go?" she asked when she hit the floor, and while Dawn smiled and nodded excitedly, Spike was strangely quiet, his face blanking out as he tipped his chin towards the floor.

"Yeah," he replied quietly, shifting on his feet and rocking back on his heels so that he could push his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. "Gonna… head back to the crypt I guess, get some sleep…"

"What?"

Buffy and Dawn traded wide-eyed glances, yipping their disbelief in tandem.

"You're not coming?" Dawn whined.

"It'll be family only, Lil Bit," Spike replied with an easy shrug, but Dawn just scoffed.

"That's a stupid rule," she said disdainfully, but thena sneaky glint flared in her eyes and she cast a devilish smirk in Buffy's direction, sending an electric zing down her spine. "We could always just tell them you're Buffy's fiancée!" she exclaimed.

Buffy choked, almost swallowed her tongue as she felt he face flush hot and red, but Spike was chuckling, grinning and pulling Dawn in for a one-armed hug.

"Nah, I'll leave it to you ladies," he smiled. "Mum's just getting' better - give her heart a bad jump with a scare like that."

Buffy frowned, a weird heaviness settling in her stomach at his words.

"She's not ready for her girls to get married," he continued, and the heaviness dissipated like it had never been there. Buffy touched her hand to her stomach, shook her head slightly. She felt like she'd been thrown into a blender, zipping around with half a dozen emotions bombarding her from every side. "She'd start thinkin' she's getting old and we wouldn't want that would we? 'Sides, too many visitors might tire her right out, so it should be you and big sis first."

"Maybe tomorrow then?" Buffy said, and she'd meant it to be a statement but the words had turned up at the end in a hopeful sort of question. Turning to take her jacket from the hook and shrug it on, she still caught the slightly confused, slightly surprised glance that Spike flicked her way.

"Maybe," he murmured.

Buffy's forehead wrinkled as a huge wave of guilt joined the Buffy-smoothie, suddenly sure that Spike's hesitancy wasn't about her mom at all, but about her. It threw her forward as he turned, her hand flashing out and catching him by the forearm, the heat of her own fingers warming the cool leather of his sleeve as they both froze, staring down at where they touched. From the corner of her eye she saw Dawn rolling her eyes in their direction and miming a gag before making herself scarce, stepping out onto the front porch with the keys still tight in her fist.

"She'd like to see you Spike," Buffy assured him, after the twitchy minute of silence that had followed the door being closed, trying to communicate everything she wanted to say without actually having to say it. "You're friends. If you want to see her..."

He made a small sound in the back of his throat that Buffy wasn't too sure of, but she thought it might be the sound of a young man who was scared for a friend, a… a mom.

"Be good to know she's all right," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as he looked down at his boots, and Buffy hid a smile. It might have cost him to confess to the admission but he'd done it, and that was more telling for her than any of his words might've been.

Buffy suddenly found herself overwhelmed by the urge to tease him for it, temper it with a smile and maybe a kiss on the cheek, but she was still floating on the endorphin rush of relief and the screwy swirl of too many feels and she knew it, so she kept the impulse to herself.

"You can stay here, if you want," she offered, looking towards the glass panels set into the front door and squinting in the face of the sunlight slowly creeping across the floor towards them. "Pretty bright out there."

Spike drew back from her hand, his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head to one side, no doubt trying to figure her out, and she wondered for just a second if he would refuse out of spite, or to get away from her for a little space where he could think.

"Just till the sun goes down," she added, making it more casual than she had originally because he was still staring at her, and she felt like it had been a little too much, a little too forward. "The couch is all yours if you want it. The living room's pretty much sun-proofed, so…"

"Right."

Buffy frowned.

That didn't feel right, even though as recently as a week ago she probably wouldn't have cared at all, or at would've just let it slide without anything twinging in the pit of her stomach demanding that she change it.

"I'll be right back," she said quickly, and then she turned her back on him and was bounding up the stairs, stepping into her room and grabbing two of her pillows off the bed, the two in the plain blue pillow cases that she actually slept on, not the stiff, square, lacy ones that always ended up flung across the room in the night. She paused at the top of the stairs, all of her old questioning bubbling up - because really, what was she doing? - but she shoved it violently back down again, determined to keep it in the past where it belonged.

"Here," she said, tossing the pillows in his direction instead of handing them over, forcing him to take them by reflex instead of giving him the chance to reject them. "Get some sleep ok? You must be tired, staying up all night."

She pretty much ran then, eager to get away before the scene could be processed any further, but she paused with her hand on the doorknob. "Thank you for that Spike," she said again for what felt like the hundredth time, still meaning it no less. "I can't… you don't know how much that means."

And then she was out the door without looking back, jumping into the car where an impatient Dawn waited and heading for the hospital.

Seeing her mother sent a crash of relief through her like she'd never felt before. She had believed Spike when he's said the doctors were confident in her recovery, but seeing it for herself, seeing her reclining against the bed, awake and alert felt like all the things she wanted, safety and home and Christmas and everything that was warm and comforting.

Joyce smiled at them tiredly when they'd finally gotten past the narrow-eyed nurse at the front desk, opening her arms to them as they raced across the short stretch of tiled floor and flung themselves on her as gently as their eagerness allowed. For a few minutes it was all hugging and tears, murmured nonsense words and declarations of love, just reassuring each other that they were there and together, but they were eventually able to let go, draw back and pull chairs up close to the bedside.

Joyce took care to explain to them everything that had been explained to her, what had happened, what the doctors had done, their prognosis and recommendations. What had been left of the tumor or her brain had put pressure on a blood vessel, causing it to break, but she'd been brought to the ER in time to drain off the fluid and relieve the pressure before any lasting damage had been done. She would be sluggish and would likely experience dizzy spells for a few weeks, but the removal of the last of the tumor had been successfully removed, and it was expected that she would make a full recovery with no more chances of relapse. She would have to stay in the hospital for a few more days just to be safe, and there was going to be a significant lack of heavy lifting and stress in her life for some time, but all in all she was feeling much better.

Buffy wasn't ashamed to say that she cried more than once that afternoon despite the good news. She wasn't the only one of course; her mom was teary almost the entire time, and at one point Dawn, who had been quiet and contemplative for about an hour, broke down completely, sobbing into her mother's lap until Nurse Ratched stuck her head in and threatened to make them leave. It wasn't all quite so dramatic though - at some point Buffy slipped out and bought a deck of cards in the abysmal hospital gift shop, and they played quiet rounds of Go-Fish, Rummy, and three-handed Snap. The soles of Buffy's feet itched the whole time, a sure sign that she needed to have a good old-fashioned mom-talk but she held off as they shuffled the deck again and again, tapping her shoes on the floor beneath her mother's bed. Her mom was still her mom though and clearly recognized what was going on, because eventually she handed her change purse off to Dawn, who had had the smarts to bring Joyce's bag in the first place, and sent her off to the vending machines.

"What is it sweetheart?" she asked gently, reaching over to take Buffy's hand lightly in hers. "Are you all right?"

Buffy swallowed, a little girl's fear of disappointing her mother hitting her hard and fast, like a kick to the solar plexus. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, uncertain and a little embarrassed, until finally she just blurted it out.

"I think I might be in love with Spike!" she yelped, immediately ducking her head to stare at the pale cotton of the blanket draped over her mother's lap.

A hand reached out and gently lifted her chin, raising her gaze to find a soft, understanding smile waiting for her.

"You might be, or you are?" she asked, and there was enough acceptance in her face that Buffy was able to swallow down the lump in her throat and answer.

"I think I am," she murmured. "Mom, I…"

"Stop," Joyce said firmly, raising her hand, and Buffy flinched at her tone, her heart falling into her stomach. "Please Buffy, I can't hear an apology out of you right now."

Buffy raised her head, frowning, but Joyce just smiled and laughed softly.

"Oh sweetie," she murmured, reaching up to stroke Buffy's hair, "I know you better than you might think. I can almost see your brain working away in there. You're scared of what your friends will think, what I'll think. About who the world expects you to be, and who they expect him to be."

Buffy nodded miserably, because as much as her bravado would cast all those things aside, she still felt them, even if she didn't want to, even if she was trying for all she was worth to push those thoughts away.

"Buffy, you were just a child when you and Angel were together," Joyce began, soldiering on even though Buffy balked at the name of her ex-lover. "You didn't understand the full enormity of what your relationship was, and honestly, I don't think he did either. But in the last few years I've seen you grow into a beautiful, intelligent young woman who knows the grey in the world where you used to see only black and white. I can't tell you how proud I am of who you've become."

Buffy sniffed, her throat thick as she wiped away a tear from her cheek. "Thanks mom," she whispered, and her heart swelled knowing that she had made her mother proud of her, in spite of everything she'd put her through, in spite of being the One Girl in all the World. "But…"

"Oh but!" Joyce scoffed, brushing off the concern before Buffy could even voice it. "Buffy, you're smart and principled and you know how to live in a world that's far more full of good and bad than most other people's. You wouldn't give your love to someone who didn't deserve it - I have faith in that. You love him, that's what's important."

"Wow," Buffy murmured, "That… mom that's…"

She couldn't voice it, so instead she surged forward and hugged her mother tight, burying her face into Joyce's hair and breathing easier than she had in many days.

"I know sweetie," Joyce said, only a little bit smug. "I'm glad you've finally found someone who can keep up with you."

Buffy hiccoughed a laugh, pulled back and wiped her face.

"You're biased," she accused with a smile, and Joyce laughed in return.

"I am," she admitted. "I like Spike, much more than Angel. I'm not even fully sure why; he's just…"

Buffy smiled.

"He's just Spike."

Holy. Crap. This is the hardest semester I have ever experienced in my entire life. I should *not* be writing for you guys right now - my dissertation is glaring at me from my desk. But, my friend UnstableIntention, whom I introduced to the wonderful world of fanfiction this year, had returned the favor by convincing me that this is a great way to achieve the much-lauded self care, so here we are.

Anyway, I'm tossing her a shout-out in thanks, so if any of you are Teen Wolf fans, head on over and check her stuff out.

Hope you enjoyed this latest installment; let me know what you think!

3 Beneficial Addiction