In The Space Between

The mask slipped from Buffy's face. The nonchalant tough act falling away to reveal someone lost and in pain. "You're so not convenient, Spike," she said softly, shaking her head slowly, as she wrapped her arms around herself. He watched her swallow and look anywhere but at him. "Do you think," she faltered a little, her gaze fixing on the living room couch, "Do you think you could just sit with me for awhile? I… I don't really want to be alone."

Spike stared at her in disbelief. He really had slipped into an alternate dimension.

Chapter 9: The Wicked Lies We Tell

She had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Spike was almost afraid to move. Afraid that he would interrupt this moment, where a younger, less destroyed Buffy was trusting him to watch over her. Was leaning on him. Was so close he could smell her scent; watch her eyelashes lay against her skin; could feel her body heat warming him. It was heaven. And it was hell. He sighed softly, slipping her head off his shoulder to momentarily lean against the couch as he angled himself to better pick her up and carry her to her waiting bed. He wasn't prepared for the flicker of her eyelids and the soft contented sigh that escaped her lips as he lifted her off the couch and pulled her against him. He never in a million years would have expected her arms to sleepily loop around his neck, holding her safely against him, her face nuzzled into his chest as he carried her out of the living room and up the stairs to her room. If his heart could beat, it would have been skipping.

He nudged her bedroom door open with one boot. He thanked the Powers for his night vision as he dodged various weaponry and clothing that Buffy had left strewn on her floor, all the while keeping her cushioned lightly against his chest. She seemed half-awake, but unwilling to break out of his hold, and he would take that crumb. Every unnecessary breath he took was drenched in the smell of Buffy. His arms were wrapped around her warm body, in contact with tiny patches of her soft, smooth skin. He felt mildly delirious, laying Buffy gently down onto her bed, her arms slipping unwillingly from around his neck. Her hands running slowly down the front of his shirt, even as they closed around the fabric and tugged lightly.

"Stay with me?" her voice was little more than a whisper. Her eyes were still closed. "I don't know why… but… I feel better with you here."

Spike swallowed hard against the rising emotions in his throat. He'd lay his life down for her. Had. And she thought he could refuse a request like that?

"Please, Spike?" her voice slid hoarsely over his name and sent a shiver down his spine. Her eyes opened a slight crack as she sat up slowly, a stray lock of hair falling across her face as she peered him in the darkness. He watched her lean slightly to the side, her arm brushing against his as she flicked her bedside light on. "I know… I know it might be a lot to ask. I don't know exactly what happened, and maybe it's too much to ask… maybe…"

He stared at her. It wasn't just convenience. She was rambling in that confusing way of hers, dancing around the fact that she wanted him to comfort her. That she was willing to consider his feelings on the matter. That he could say no. This was so far from everything he had ever experienced with the Buffy he had known, that he felt momentarily adrift in the ocean of her imploring eyes.

"I'll stay," he whispered in reply. "Of course I'll stay," he murmured hoarsely. He glanced quickly up at her window, where the curtains hung wide open. "Though I better close the curtains, pet. Sunrise isn't so far off."

She watched him rise with wide eyes, almost childlike in the orange glow of her bedside lamp. It was hard to take his eyes off of her, even for a moment. He felt like he was in some sort of dream. Bitterly sweet and surreal. He pulled his gaze away for the moment it would take to shut the curtains properly, but found his eyes drawn to a figure standing on the sidewalk before the house. Moonlight shone dully on white bandages and dark hair. Spike stared down at the man on the sidewalk, watching as the man lifted an arm encased in a cast to wave resentfully. Spike blinked rapidly, shutting the curtains against Riley's gaze before back-peddling to the chair by Buffy's bedside.

"Spike?" Buffy's voice was muffled by sleepiness, as she sunk down into her covers and stared at her lamp. "What's the future like?"

Spike shook his head, "Why don't I tell you about something better, love?"

Buffy sat stiffly on Giles' sofa. She dragged a spoon through the cup of tea she hadn't really wanted, trying to focus on the swirling tea rather than the memory of her mother looking tiny and pale in a hospital bed. The beep of the machines that monitored her life signs was a chilling refrain in her brain. Dawn had taken one look at their mother and had stifled a sob, turning and running from the room. Xander had taken Dawn back to her friend's house. Giles had brought her back here.

She set the cup of cooling tea down on the table in front of her. She looked up Giles, who was speaking with Willow in rushed, clipped tones about which books they should be looking through, what they should try to pick out of Spike's brain, what supplies they needed. She stared at them for a long moment, feeling like an alien. "Giles," she began slowly, interrupting the conversation before her at the very moment Xander came bursting into the flat.

"Ok, so the Dawnster is at Janice's place. What's today's homework assignment?" He rubbed his hands together, feigning eagerness.

Buffy smiled at him wearily. "Thank you, Xander," she said softly. "I couldn't go chasing after Dawn when the doctor needed to talk to me."

Xander gave her a worried look. "What did he say, by the way?" He looked uncomfortable as he sat down beside her, "Is it… is it bad?"

Buffy nodded stiffly, suddenly longing for the silent calm that had been Spike's presence last night. What on earth could have turned him from the cocky and crude vampire she had known into the person who had held her through the night, she couldn't even guess. Not a move had been made. Not a single inappropriate touch. And it wasn't because he hadn't wanted her. She had woken up near dawn, twisting in his arms to get more comfortable and finding herself facing him. His eyes had been dark with emotion as his arms had tightened subtly around her. For a long moment she had returned his gaze, trying to read his expression. A second shift of her body that brushed her hip lightly across his body had made its meaning abundantly clear. Her eyes had widened, her body stiffening in response to her discovery. He hadn't moved, his gaze unwaveringly steady. "Sleep, love," he said softly, "I promise not to take advantage." For a moment, she had seen the ghost of one of his trademark smirks across his lips.

"Buffy?" Xander's voice was full of concern.

"What?" she replied distractedly, trying to focus on the present.

"I asked how your mom was?" he let the question hang in the air.

Buffy sighed. She turned to Giles. "Do you think we could do this later? Or tomorrow?" She gazed at her Watcher imploringly. "I just… I can't think right now. Seeing Mom looking so…" she swallowed hard. She was too well acquainted with death to finish the thought.

As she had expected, Giles started suddenly. Standing and apologizing for not realizing her discomfort, he had offered her a ride home. She turned it down, letting him and her friends continue their research. It was important, after all, with two demon gods on the loose. With a weary smile, she headed for the door, only to watch it fly open on its own accord.

"Giles!" the man's voice called out before the door was even open, "I need to talk to you about Buffy!"

She stared at the dark haired man before her with a less than impressed look on her face. "Riley," she said stiffly, a crooked grimace on her lips as she took in the cast on his arm, the bandages he wore, and the black eye and split lip that stood out starkly on his handsome face. Or rather, the face that had been handsome before she had gotten to it.

His bruised face still managed to express surprise. "Buffy," he stuttered, "I didn't expect to see you here…"

"Obviously," she spat in reply, cutting him off harshly. "But I can tell you that anything you want to say, should be said to me. Not behind my back." She glared at him, "You lost the right to tell me what I should be doing with my life when you left me."

The hard look in his eyes made her regret saying that. "Of course, I left. Why should you take any responsibility for what happened?" He shook his head, "You just take what comes your way, don't you, Buffy?"

Buffy stared at him, her eyes narrowing dangerously, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Riley smiled coldly at her, "Keeping Spike a secret then, huh?" He looked past her at Giles and Xander who had crept down the hallway behind Buffy, "He was in her bedroom last night."

"Which you know, how?" Buffy spat, "By spying on me? Stalking me from the street? Oh yeah, aren't you the hero."

"Buffy," Giles stuttered from behind her, "Perhaps his concerns are… valid."

Buffy spun around to glare at her Watcher. "I fell asleep on the couch and he carried me to bed," she said softly, "But thanks for the vote of confidence, Giles." With that, she brushed past her ex-boyfriend who still hovered in the doorway and ran the distance home. There was so much going on, and she just couldn't deal with it. Not when all she could see when she closed her eyes was her mother's pale face, looking tiny and sandwiched between beeping life support machines. That, and the look in Spike's eyes when he had agreed to stay with her last night.