Made for fun, not for profit. The Buffyverse belongs to Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon, I just like to play there.

A/N: Another fluffy chapter. Stuff will be happening soon. Plot stuff, actiony stuff, stuff not in Giles' flat! I promise, just… not yet. I'm still in the 'character' phase of this, establishing how Spike and Sam interact and where Spike's head is, for to make the AU events plausible when I finally get to them. Alas, this takes time.

"And yet—it is not beauty that inspires the deepest passion.

Beauty without grace is the hook without the bait.

Beauty, without expression, tires."

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

15 – Room Service

Spike turned over in bed, pressing his face into the pillow. His stomach grumbled discontentedly, and he felt himself drifting towards wakefulness. He rubbed a hand over his face, blinking. This was the first time he'd woken up in a bed in… how long had it been? Weeks? Well over a month, more like, since he'd been grabbed the night he got back from L.A.. This wasn't just any bed, though. It was Sam's bed. Sure, the room actually belonged to Giles, as did the mattress, sheets and pillows, and there was no mistaking the watcher's scent on them, but Sam's scent was much stronger in the room, especially on the blankets. Spike closed his eyes and langidly stretched his arms, just enjoying the moment.

He had started to drift off again when there were footsteps in the hall, followed by a gentle knock at the door.

"Spike, are you awake?"

His face split in a grin at her voice, and a quick whiff at the air told him that she'd followed through on the promise of lunch. "Come on in, luv." A clock over the dresser showed that the time was half-past noon, so he'd gotten a few hours of solid rest and he felt better for it, but smelling the blood seemed to remind his stomach of how empty it was, so he was all the more eager to bolt down whatever Sam had brought him.

The doorknob turned slower than he would have liked, considering how hungry he was, but he held his tongue instead of trying to hurry her along. A few interminable seconds later, the door swung open and Sam walked in. Just like she had done the night before and at breakfast, she had set up a tray of four coffee mugs, all filled with steaming plasma. She smiled at him over the tray as she approached the bed, and then set it down on the bedside table nearer the window. "Think I got it, this time."

He sat up against the headboard and shifted a bit closer to the tray, trying to get within easy reach of his lunch. "Yeah?"

"Yup. Paprika, ginger, and Wheetabix, since you said you liked the texture. Acidity actually works well with spice, so I nixed the baking soda." She offered a hopeful smile. "And…" The smile faltered a bit, as though she were about to give him some bad news, and she produced a straw.

He grimaced slightly. Bloody perfect. Just when was he going to stop feeling like a damned invalid already? She was only trying to help, he knew that well enough, but the unintentional reminder of how far he'd come from his swaggering, badass self still made him cringe.

"Pet…" There was more of a whinge in his voice than he intended, but he couldn't tell if Sam noticed.

Sam shrugged, looking apologetic and worried as she held out the straw. "Yeah, I know you don't like it, but I thought if you were comfy and didn't want to sit up, then-"

His mouth twitched into a smile. This bird really was something special. He hated to think what his situation might be if she weren't staying with Giles for her winter vacation. "Thanks, luv."

She beamed, but the happy look slipped away again just before she sat down by his hip. "Oh. Crap."

Spike was instantly worried. "Pet?"

Her shoulders slumped dejectedly and her head fell forward. "Nrg. I didn't think. The bits of Wheetabix won't fit through the straw, will they?"

He chuckled, warmed and amused and touched all at once by her attentions. "Pet, you don't have to fuss so much." He was reveling in the way she was doting on him, but he didn't want her to feel like she had to dote on him, lest she start to resent it.

"Yeah, but I want to." She gave him a sheepish half smile and let one hand come to rest on his knee. "I like fussing over you, my handsome William."

Spike was sincerely glad that vamps couldn't blush, because if they could, he knew his face would have been bright pink.

She fidjeted slightly and reached over to hand him one of the mugs, seeming nervous all of a sudden, although he had no idea why. "Is it okay if… Can I call you 'William'?"

He accepted the mug, looking at her curiously. "Sure, I s'pose. Been a while since anyone called me that." He took a mouthful of blood, and was pleasantly surprised. "Pet? This is actually… good."

She gave him an annoyed look. "Don't sound so shocked."

He shook his head, scrambling to explain. "No, really. This is… I'm actually enjoyin' it. This is the first meal I've enjoyed since before the bloody soldiers… hell, since before I got back from L.A."

A smile broke out on Sam's face, and she seemed happy. "Glad you like it." She fiddled with a loose string on the sheet for a few moments, then asked, "So, this thing between us," she smiled crookedly. "Do you think its the Florence Nightingale deal, or just your run-of-the-mill Stockholm Syndrome?"

The sudden, blunt question took him by surprise. They had been getting on so well, at least he had thought they were, so he was a little spun by the way she seemed to be dismissing their budding romance as merely a cliched psychological product of their circumstances, but after a moment he took another mouthful and shrugged, affecting indifference after he swallowed the blood down. "Dunno, pet. What do you think it is?"

Her smile dimmed slightly, and he saw the nervousness she had been trying to hide. "I think I'm trying to logic myself out of falling for you, because I'm pretty sure that being with you wouldn't be all rosebuds and candy, and really, I'm just a big romantic sap who doesn't want to get hurt." She flashed an encouraging smile and gently nudged him. "Your turn. Honesty time."

He sighed, letting his head rest against the iron headboard. "Already told you how much it means that you're lookin' out for me an that you're not doing it 'coz you have an agenda, but because you think I'm worthwhile, an' that's... that's something new for me, having one of the goody-good guys give a toss about me when they aren't getting something out of it, but I..." He closed his eyes, frowning in surprise when she started combing her fingers through his hair. "Only bird I've ever been serious about was Dru, and she..."

She squeezed his hand. "I get it. You don't want to get hurt again. And I don't want to be some rebound shag who you'll forget about in a couple of weeks."

He looked up, saw how much the idea of being used like that pained her, and he sighed. "No, Sam, you could never be that. I'm aleady fallin' for you, I just…" She clearly knew enough about Dru and Harmony to be reluctant about letting him into her heart right away. He could reassure her till he was blue in the face – metaphorically, any way – but the only way to show her that what they had was real was to give her time. Hell, he wasn't going anywhere, or getting any older, and she sure as hell seemed worth the wait. He'd just have to practice being patient. Besides, much as he wanted to, he couldn't seem to quash the traitorous doubts that kept whispering to him, warning him against letting himself get hurt again. Time would probably help them both. He turned his hand in her grasp and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. "Maybe its not such a bad thing that we're goin' slow. Gotta make sure we both trust this 'fore we get too far into it."

She nodded, fighting back a smile. "Why, Spike, are you trying to be mature?"

There was a playful tone to her voice, but he only shrugged it off. "Not the first time, luv."

"Just don't start acting your age, ok? Cuz that could make things pretty damn awkward."

He chuckled at that, nodded his aquiesence, and set about finishing off the other three mugs of blood.

When he handed over the last empty mug, Sam set it down on the tray along with the others and moved towards the edge of the mattress. She started to get up, but found that she couldn't move her arm. Puzzled, she glanced down to see that Spike was holding onto her wrist. Sam looked back at him, and became more confused. The Mr. Sexypants mask had gone, and in its place was an expression which she couldn't read. Aside from looking tired, there was something urgent about the look on his face. An urgency which she didn't understand, and she started to get worried.

"Do you need something before I go?"

His grip tightened on her wrist. Not enough to be painful, but enough to keep her attention, and his eyes seemed oddly intense about… something. "Don't."

She blinked, not getting it, and was briefly tempted to tell him to 'use your words.' Instead, she just asked, "don't what?"

"Go."

Sam tugged at her arm. It was pretty much a futile gesture, considering that even weakened he still had a good hold on her wrist, but she wanted her hand back. She made a small, frustrated noise, trying to loosen his hold by flexing her wrist first one way, then another, while she tried asking again. "Spike, give me a straight answer. What do you want?"

He set his jaw and shot her a guarded look. "I..." She tugged at her arm again, more as a reflex than anything else. He sighed and let her hand go, shifting in the bed and looking away from her as he drew in on himself slightly. "Forget it. 'S... just forget it."

Now, that was interesting. Weird, but interesting… which, when she thought about it, pretty much summed up the last twenty four hours. Sam shook her head slightly. Well, no point being coy now. If Spike wanted to play 'I've got a secret', she was gonna find out what it was. She sat back down on the bed, resting a hand just above his knee and trying to angle her head so that they were eye-to-eye. "Spike, what were you gonna say?" She kept her tone gentle and conversational, since she was pretty sure that letting her frustration show would either make him lash out or shut down, and neither of those would lead to a straight answer.

He met her eyes for nearly a second, then his jaw tightened and he looked away. "Nevermind." He spoke with studied non-chalance, staring at the opposite wall and shrugging one shoulder. "Doesn't matter. Go on downstairs if you like. Makes no difference to me." His eyes were focused across the room as he spoke, and they didn't shift back to Sam, which annoyed the crap out of her. She was about to snap at him to stop being evasive when comprehension dawned. She hadn't seen this side of him before, so it took her almost a full minute to figure out what was going on with him, but once she did, well… she couldn't help smiling.

Sam leaned back against the pillows until their shoulders were touching and she could feel the side of his leg pressing into her knee and shook her head, grinning. "If you wanted company, all you had to do was ask."

Spike's eyes flicked to her, wide and full of surprise before he tried to quickly cover with some thin bravado. "Sure I don't know what you mean, luv."

She only smiled wider, knowing she'd hit the mark. "Bull."

He sat up a little, squaring his shoulders and glaring indignantly in a way that was probably meant to look tough. Instead, she just thought it was adorable. "Oi! I'll have you know that I wasn't going ta ask any such thing. Pfft. 'S not like I couldn't..." She stared at him and kept staring until he caved, "...use a bit of company," he finished lamely.

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Do you want me to stay for a while?"

He shrugged again, but it was slightly less non-commital than before, and this time he glanced at her for an extra second or two. "Do whatever you like, luv. Makes no difference to me."

She gave her head a tiny shake, more intrigued than annoyed by shy-guy Spike, and chuckled quietly. "I'm guessing this is as close as you're gonna get to asking for help. Well, I'm stayin', blondie, whether you like it or not."

He quirked a surprised eyebrow and seemed to uncoil slightly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She patted his leg through the blankets. "I'll be your company. Just let me take these puppies," she gestured at the mugs, "downstairs. I'll have 'em cleaned and be back in five minutes, tops."

His forehead wrinkled up and he gave her a searching look, still looking ill at ease. "You sure, pet? I mean," she put a finger across his lips, cutting him off by making the 'shh' gesture.

"Nope, my mind's made up." She got up and grabbed the tray again, and this time he didn't move to stop her. "Just don't fall asleep before I get back."

"Right." He blinked and nodded, and the last of his tension seemed to disappear. "Thanks, pet. You're a love." Spike closed his eyes as she stepped away, relaxing against the still propped-up pillows. Halfway to the door, she looked over her shoulder and caught him watching her, a slight happy quirk to his lips as she covered the rest of the distance. She hesitated at the door, then stepped back to his side of the bed. Spike blinked up at her sleepily. "Forget something?"

"Yup." She smiled at him fondly and set the dirty mugs down on the bedside table.

He watched her curiously as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "What are y-" his question died away when she leaned in and gave his temple a soft kiss.

She sat back and smiled at him, standing and taking a moment to adjust his covers. "Now I'm ready to go downstairs."

He tilted his head to one side and frowned up at her. "What was that for?"

She shrugged, smiling, and picked up the tray once more. "Just needed to. Stay awake for a few minutes, and I'll be right back. I have plans with Willow this afternoon, so I'll be gone for a few hours, but you'll be asleep while I'm out, and tomorrow you'll have me all to yourself. Sound good?"

He nodded, and she resisted the urge to give him another kiss. Smoochies were all well and good, but Lips of Spike were dangerous. Plus, there were dishes she had to do. She headed for the door again, shaking her head as she tried to puzzle out the bleached contradiction that was Spike.

He didn't want to look weak, but he seemed to enjoy, or at the very least, he tolerated being fussed over. He'd killed two Slayers and god only knew how many people, but when she'd been crying and upset, he'd done a pretty damn good job of comforting her. He kidnapped Willow last year and tried to turn her last month… and when Sam asked him to come to a screeching halt before rounding third, he'd done so without complaint. He'd helped Drusilla re-assemble the Judge, but then sided with Buffy to stop Angelus from awakening Acathla. He earned his nickname by torturing people with rail-road spikes… and he liked poetry and a good cuddle.

The only consistent thing about him seemed to be that he was inconsistent, with no real plan or pattern to why he did things. Aside from physical description, the vamp she had heard so much about didn't really seem to resemble the guy dozing in her bed. The guy she'd eaten dinner with, fallen asleep next to on the couch and patched up in the study was sweet. Weird, but sweet. He was affectionate and charming, and surprisingly vulnerable when he let his guard down. Then again, when he was acting like the Big Bad, flirting and cocky and trying to hide how much he was hurting – the way he had vamped out and yelled at her when he fell over came to mind - she could glimpse the Spike that the gang had told her about. Figuring him out was going to take a while, but she had a feeling that it would be worth the effort. She didn't know yet how much of his 'badness' was an act, some sort of defense mechanism… or maybe it was the sweetness that was an act. Was he really as evil and dangerous as Giles thought, or had the ex-Watcher not bothered to look for hidden depths? Sam started to wonder if her attraction to Spike was clouding her judgement, and she realized that even if it was, she couldn't just will herself to not care about him. Angsting over how good or evil he was, doubting his sincerity and her own judgement, worrying about whether she was setting herself up to get hurt… those were all dead-end roads. She didn't see the point in tying herself up in knots over 'what-ifs', and she didn't have the temperment for brooding.

It really all boiled down to two facts: She liked him, and he liked her.

She wasn't about to jump off the rollercoaster now.

Sam made her way down the stairs and towards the kitchen, muttering to herself, "A contradiction wrapped in an enigma… with trust issues and really unfortunate hair."

"You say something?"

She looked up and saw that Giles had just closed the front door behind himself. His gray tshirt had a few sweat stains, and he was slightly out of breath.

She shook her head, continuing on her way towards the kitchen. "Just talking to myself. I didn't hear you come back. Did you have a good run?"

He smiled, wiping the sleeve of his sweatshirt across his forehead. "I did, actually."

She stepped into the kitchen and started running the sink. "I'm gonna be upstairs with Spike for a while, so if you could just give a shout when Willow comes by-"

"And, may I ask what will you be doing with him?"

She crossed her arms and fixed Giles with a hard look. "Just keeping him company while he rests. Theres a book I'm halfway through, and I'm hoping to read a few more chapters before Willow comes by."

Giles nodded, clearly not happy with this development, but he didn't argue with her. He just let out a tired sigh. "I suppose we must agree to disagree where Spike is concerned, but so long as you supervise him and continue to learn what he knows about the commandos, I shant object. However, if he abuses my hospitality or you in any way, I won't hesitate to act."

Sam relaxed her posture and gave him a smile. She was glad of that. She didn't like fighting with Giles, or with anyone she cared about, but that didn't stop her from speaking up when she disagreed with one of them. It was much easier when she wasn't at odds with her friends or extended/adopted family. "Thanks. And I won't try to convince you of the good I've seen in him."

He nodded and got himself a glass of juice. "As long as we have an understanding."

When Sam came back upstairs, she found that Spike had broken his word.

He was sound asleep.

She couldn't help smiling a little. Yes, he'd broken his promise, but he looked so sweet dozing there that she couldn't really be angry. His chest didn't rise and fall, which was weird, but she knew that it made sense. However, he wasn't motionless and totally corpse-like either. One of his hands lay on top of the covers, and his fingers twitched every so often. When she got closer, she saw that his eyes were moving beneath their lids. Even though she'd only been out of the room for a few minutes, it looked like he'd already entered REM sleep. What did vampires dream about, anyway? She stacked a couple of pillows up against the headboard and then sat down on the window-side of the bed, leaning back into the pillows until she was sitting comfortably. Spike shifted slighty under the blankets, making a quiet, quizzical noise when she settled next to him. Sam ran a hand up his arm and gently squeezed his shoulder. "It's just me, Spike. No need to wake up."

He grumbled softly to himself and rolled closer, letting his arm fall across her lap and fisting his hand in the sheets next to her hip before pillowing his head on her thigh. She smiled and let her hand slide around to run over his back in a soothing motion. "Silly vampire." She kissed his temple, leaned away to flick on the bedside lamp, and settled in to read her book, absently letting her hand come to rest against his side. "William the Bloody, hmm? You seem more like 'William the Cuddly' to me. No idea how I'm gonna get up without waking you, but that's the next problem."

Just shy of an hour later, there was a soft knock at the door. Sam looked up from her book and saw the door crack open before Willow's voice quietly drifted in from the hallway. "Sam? Are you ready to go get lunch?"

Sam smiled, putting a playing card into her book to mark the page she'd been on and setting the book down by the lamp. She didn't want to raise her voice and risk waking Spike, so she waited for Willow to poke her head into the room and then gave her friend a nod and a 'wait-a-minute' gesture.

Willow's expression changed from happy to confused in record time, and Sam grimaced. She wasn't looking forward to explaining this.

Sam managed to gently slide herself out from under his arm and over to the edge of the bed without waking Spike. Once she was standing again, she took a piece of notebook paper and scribbled a quick note which she left on the unoccupied pillow by Spike's head. She put her shoes on and left the room, walking past Willow, who hadn't really moved since she first peeked in. However, once Sam passed her, Willow spent a few seconds looking back and forth between her friend and the sleeping vampire with a thoroughly freaked out look on her face.

"What… I mean, Sam, what?" Willow's voice was high and squeaky.

Sam winced at the high pitch and shushed her. "Just don't wake him up, okay? I'll tell you about it while we're, y'know, out doing stuff and catching up."

Willow seemed to pull herself together. "Kay," she reluctantly agreed, then pointed a no-nonsense finger at Sam and coupled it with her best 'resolve-face', "but you'd better explain yourself, missy. Cuz snuggling with Spike? I don't even know where to start with the bad."

They headed down the stairs and Sam sighed. So much for fun. The plan had been to take Sam's suitcase and duffle of dirty clothes to the laundromat, then buy ingredients at the Magic Box so Sam could try out some of the spells and potions she found while hanging with German, French and Italian covens. They would grab lunch and catch up while the clothes were drying, and maybe hit a local thrift store which usually had cool retro stuff. Sure, they'd probably still do all that stuff, but now there would have to be more explaining and self-analyzing and time for self-doubt.

Yippee.

Sam tried, though. "Can't you just be happy to see me, and skip the third degree?"

Willow quirked an eyebrow at her as they gathered up the dirty laundry. "Nope. Nice try."

Sam groaned. "Great."

TBC