It was around 11:30 P.M. the following day when Buffy finally got home. She had been Los Angeles bound for a day or so and wasn't necessarily happy to be home. Not that her post-postmortem visit with Angel was a blast per se, but being home just meant dealing with…well…life, something Buffy was just not in the mood to do as of late.

So first things first, she went to check on Dawn. No one had rushed to greet her, so she figured them all to be asleep, which was probably for the best. Buffy really was exhausted.

Pushing open the door to Dawn’s room caused a small sliver of light to permeate the otherwise pitch-black space. Buffy only peeked her head in for a second; Dawn was out cold. Her legs were flung haphazardly off to the left of the bed, while her head was squished against the pillows angled towards the right. Buffy rolled her eyes at the sight and softly shut the door.

Continuing towards her own room, Buffy suddenly stopped short catching a glimpse of the overly florescent lights that shown from the bathroom. That was when she heard it. It was steady and slow and seemingly unassuming; however, to Buffy’s ears it was evil incarnate.

It was the drippy faucet.

The gentle, almost silent, thud of the water droplets against the cold surface of the sink sent Buffy into a frustrated rage.

She flew in through the doorway, knocking various supplies from the counter, in her move for the faucet. Her anger quieted as she glared at it for a few unstable seconds before grabbing the smooth silver knob and forcing it the last centimeter of the way closed forcing the dripping to cease.

But with every drippy faucet came an even bigger flood. Buffy’s particular flood was located in the basement. She’d left in such a hurry for L.A. she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Xander about his plumber buddy who could get her a good deal…or so she hoped.

Trudging down the stairs, Buffy decided to take a look at the damage thus far. It seemed she couldn’t catch a break. You’d think after sacrificing yourself to stop dimensions from bleeding together and pretty much all hell breaking loose that The Powers That Be would cut her some slack, maybe give someone else the drippy pipes and flooded basement because this was the last thing Buffy needed.

She hated feeling sorry for herself; she really did, but every time she closed her eyes she’d see it, the place she had been for those few fleeting moments, where she had viciously been ripped from. So she couldn’t move on. She couldn’t forget. She couldn’t forgive them, not yet at least. However, she could pretend and she could lie. Her friends could live in blissful ignorance, while she took on the responsibilities of mom, friend, slayer, and full-copper-re-pipe fixer. She could do it. Buffy just had to keep on pretending.


Shoving her internal conflict to the back of her mind, Buffy approached and proceeded to make her way down the basement stairs. The last 5 or so steps had been consumed in water, so she squatted on the sixth and glanced at the mess around her. She couldn’t see much; the electricity in the basement was being just as difficult as the pipes, so not only was she surrounded in water, but in darkness as well. Nothing seemed to be looking up.

“Bloody hell!”

Buffy’s head shot up and her eyes were quickly drawn to the darkest corner of the basement. She could have sworn she heard…

“Spike?” she questioned in the direction of the rustling and low spoken British curse.

“…Buffy?” She wouldn’t have been able to see him at all if it hadn’t been for his blinding shock of bleached hair as he turned to glare in her general direction.

“Spike! What the hell are you…” Before she could finish expressing her irritation, a loud splash and weird gurgling noise interrupted her. She could make out the shapes of a few boxes as they tumbled into the water after him, and couldn’t hold back her laughter as he finally appeared before her eyes.

“Bloody hell…” he stammered out again. “Quit the giggling. Will ya’, Slayer? This, “ he said gesturing toward the water, “ is going to damage the leather! Had this coat for over 20 years, only to have it water damaged in the bloody Slayer’s basement.” He whipped the coat off quickly examining it for any more serious damage.

“Yeah, by the way, what exactly were you doing here…in MY basement?” she said, her amusement evident in her voice. He really did look hilarious, and it felt really good to laugh. Laughter had seemed so out of reach lately, along with a bunch of other emotions; it felt good to let loose. And lately Spike seemed to be the only one who would allow her to just be.

Plus the fact that is was beyond human capabilities not to laugh at him. He was soaked from head to toe in water and whatever other sludge had seeped out of the pipes. His face seemed to be carved into a permanent scowl and not to mention that he was still standing in said water.

His black tee and jeans were clinging to his body like a second skin, as if they weren’t tight enough before, not that Buffy particularly minded. Beneath the taut fabric, Buffy could clearly make out the sharps cuts and dips of abs, not to mention the way the clothing pulled and tightened around his pecs and subsequently his biceps.

‘Hmm…Buffy likey.’ The thought had come and passed before she even realized what had happened. Buffy had ogled. She had ogled Spike, of all people while she was standing right in front of him. They had been talking. Hadn’t they? Buffy could barely remember; she too caught up in the Spike ogling.

“Hello. Earth to Slayer!” Spike was even closer to her now, waving a hand slowly in front of her face.

“Huh...what?” Her eyelids took a second to flutter as she readjusted to her current surrounds, ones not including a very naked Spike.

“See something you like, pet?” His expression softened into a playful smirk, as his tongue found it’s proper place, wriggling behind his teeth. A hint of lust shown in his blue eyes that were currently seeking contact with hers.

‘Hmm…the things he could do with that tongue.’ As soon as Buffy had broken free of her lust-addled condition, Spike made with the sensual tongue acrobatics pulling her right back in. This time it seemed the desire presently flowing through her system was here to stay. He didn’t have to know that though.

“What? No! Everything about you is…disgusting, Spike.” Usually insulting Spike was simple, enjoyable even, but for some reason tonight she was off her game. Buffy had realized Spike was attractive a while ago, she had eyes, of course, and he was not easy to miss, but he was Spike with the evilness and creepy obsession. He was never on her radar until…well until she’d gotten resurrected and she’d begun to see him in a whole new, more helpful and less irritating, light.


Now standing in front of her with his clothes clinging to his skin his hotness factor only seemed to increase. This was a road that led to badness, she knew, but her brain didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah, well, pity for you.” Spike’s eyes formed into tight slits as he spoke with increasing anger.

Seeing the hurt in his eyes, she almost felt guilty for her comment…almost, but instead she just sighed crossing her arms across her chest in a haughty expression.

“Look, Spike-“

“You mind if I use your shower?” The question hung in the air as he began to make his way past her. Spike just stared at her expectantly as if it was the most normal thing in the world for her…well she didn’t know exactly what Spike was, but he definitely was not showering using material.

“What? Why!? You just fell into a flooded basement. Why do you need a shower? MY shower?”

“As high and mighty as you might think you are, Slayer, your pipes are still filled with grime, not to mention the bloody stench of the stuff. Its not necessarily something I want plastered to my body, or my clothes, for that matter,” he said tugging at the hem of his tee.

Buffy was silent. Her brain running a mile a minute, she didn’t think she’d be able to handle the thought of a wet…naked…soapy…Spike, right down the hall in her shower. No there was just no way.

“Woah there, mister.” She said clutching the wrist that was pulling on his sodden shirt. He quirked an eyebrow at her, but Buffy held her glare and continued. “There will be no removing of clothing in MY basement, especially YOURS, Spike.” She was laying on the disgust a little thick she knew, but the possibilities running through Buffy’s mind of Spike removing his shirt right before her eyes were way too tempting at the moment.

He just rolled his eyes in response. It wasn’t hard to tell she was overcompensating, and Spike could always read her…well like a book.

“Listen Summers, I’m just looking for a quick scrub down and then I’ll be out of your hair. Was trying to help fix the damn things in the first place the least I could get is a bloody shower.”

The way the words ‘scrub down’ rolled off his tongue made Buffy clench in all the wrong places, insinuating more than just a shower for his efforts. God, What was wrong with her tonight? Every inch of her was on fire. She could feel the static between them as they traded remarks and was sure if she waved a hand amid them it would be like waving through syrup. The tension was thick to say the least…for Buffy. Spike, however, seemed cool as a cucumber, unruffled by the situation in the slightest. He was just standing there all nonchalant and drippy and it was driving Buffy crazy.

He was mumbling something about ‘bloody ungrateful bints, and damn leaking pipes’ when she caught up with his train of thought. “You were fixing the pipes?”

Spike’s eyes suddenly cast downward almost bashfully. He looked more boyish in that moment than Buffy had yet to see him. Shoving his thumbs into his belt loops mustering up some swagger he grumbled, “Yeah, what’s it to ya’, Slayer?” He looked up at her honestly, searching for something akin to appreciation in her eyes, rummaging around in her soul to put some worth to his attempt at a good deed.

But what did it mean to her? Buffy wasn’t sure. Spike….Spike was in her basement, unbeknownst to her, in the process of fixing her pipes, the pipes that were going to cost piles of money, she didn’t have, to fix. She let it wash over her. Done. Processed. What did it mean? His gaze was so intent now, she found herself nervously searching for a proper answer to do him justice. Finally she landed on the word ‘nice’. It was nice what Spike had done…or tried to do before she interrupted, and although Spike had hardly been nice in the past, far from it actually, last year he had helped, and now he was bearable, even friendly at times. So nice she decided was the proper word.

“That was nice of you,” She finished with a small smile and a nod.

Spike seemed distraught. Had she really just…and with the…. and then…’Nice?’. He decided the fumes from whatever filth was swimming in this water were leaking into his brain cells because the Slayer and had definitely not just given him a compliment. “Well, uh…thanks,” Spike concluded awkwardly running a hand through his hair.

‘There’s that shy look again… Buffy thought wistfully. ‘…Its kind of cute…adorable more like it…’ She inwardly groaned at her own thoughts betraying her. ‘Spike was not cute. Spike was not adorable.’ She repeated the mantra endlessly. Suddenly she realized he was talking again. She had to stop forgetting to listen for that…

“Just trying to do my part, is all. You seem to got so much shit buggering up your life as of late, so I figured I could do a little something, not like I can help with much else.” He was looking at her again, searching for something, this time a little more illusive, something she couldn’t give him, not yet. His head was causally cocked to the side his brow arched, as she met his eyes. Unable to keep it though, Buffy decided against continuing the subject.

“About that shower…” She felt horrible then just from the glance that crossed his face as she denied him acknowledgment. Buffy had wanted to thank him because he was right. Spike was always right when it came to her, but things were too hard now, too clouded in her head for her to be able to give him what he really needed. So she opted for a subject change.

“Yeah…” He chuckled hoarsely lifting his arms from his sides watching the water drip steadily off of him. “Probably got enough dirty water clinging to me now to last a lifetime, love. It can wait ‘til I get back to my crypt, I suppose.” Spike shuffled quickly past her making his way to the top step before she stopped him.

“Don’t be silly.” Buffy crossed her arms in a more friendly than threatening gesture and moved up the stairs and into the kitchen. “I can’t having you walking home smelling like you do now, or else I won’t have any demons to slay on patrol because your stanky ass would have scared them all away.” She smirked down at him playfully, and he would have been pissed. In any normal situation being called a ‘stanky ass’ wouldn’t exactly be high on his list of endearments, but coming from her it sounded like sunshine jokingly spouting from her lips, so he smiled and met her in the kitchen. “After all it is the least I can do.” She graced him with one more teasing smile and then turned and headed away from him.

Spike was awe struck. She was playing with him. Their usual banter was filled to brim loathing and frustration but now it seemed she was turning the tables, finally loosening up enough to actually tease him as a friend would. It was a step in the right direction, Spike was sure.

“This offer won’t last forever, Spike. The shower’s this way,” Buffy called from an unknown point on her way upstairs.

“Coming, Slayer.” With that Spike hurried off after her.

Chapter 2: Gulp

Buffy’s brain was running on autopilot. Her sanity had left the building and Spike was following her rapidly up the stairs to the shower. Spike was going to use her shower. He would be in her bathroom, using her towels, and her soap, and suddenly Buffy felt the urge to break open a new box of Dove.

They walked the rest of the way in a sort of stunned silence, both unsure of exactly what they were getting into, but they continued their trek all the same.

Reaching the top, Buffy turned on her heal sharply to stare down at him. He was beaming like a child. His eyes were bright and hopeful like she’d never seen and for a second she forgot that she had been about to reprimand him for tracking little drops of water all over the floor. The look swiftly disappeared though as he realized he’d been caught so gleeful. She gave him a knowing glance arching her eyebrow.

“What, Slayer? I’m practically marinating in rubbish. Can you blame a bloke for being a little excited?” he spat defensively.

Buffy rolled her eyes and continued her way down the hall. “A little? You looked like a kid on Christmas. It’s just a shower, Spike.” Though both knew it was more than that though.

‘It’s your shower…’ Spike mused. The thought gave him a tingly feeling throughout his limbs, but if asked he would never admit to it. He did have some semblance of a Big Bad reputation to protect after all. “It’s just been awhile, is all.” He shrugged with a smirk and passed by her.

“What?”

Buffy’s head was in a very bad place. Been awhile since what? What exactly did he expect? Did he mean? It HAD been awhile, she guessed. Besides Harmony, she couldn’t think of anyone in the last bunch of months that he’d been seen with and that was before she’d gotten back. Buffy he didn’t think…he wouldn’t actually think that’s what she’d meant. Right? God, she hoped not because she was so not ready to go there, and by not ready she meant ever. Evvvvvver. It was Spike after all. The Spike who was looking at her right now with the clearest cerulean eyes she’d ever seen, looking as if he could see into her soul and know every little detail of her innermost thoughts.

“If you wanted a taste, pet, all you had to do was ask.” The gaze she’d found enticing just moments ago was currently traveling down her body in an appreciative way.

“Wh-what are u talking about, Spike?” Arms folded over one another she stood facing him.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Slayer. Get your mind out of the bloody gutter. I meant it had been awhile since I’d had a real shower. I’d wager yours is a little more advanced than the tapped pipe in my crypt.”

“Oh…What? I wasn’t…I mean…I would never-“ A deep blush was steadily creeping up Buffy’s chest and cheeks. Spike found the whole situation absolutely delicious.

“I can smell you, pet.” He chuckled a bit as he spoke. She was just too cute.

Buffy’s eyes grew wide. Spike could SMELL her…her… Oh, god, this was just too embarrassing for words. Her slightly blushing cheeks were now deeply inflamed.

“Shower’s this way…” Her voice trailed off in a high-pitched squeak as she walked to and pointed at a doorway. Spike being able to smell her…well her down there…was just something she didn’t have the strength the process at the moment, not with him about to be naked and soapy a few doors down from her bedroom, so she chose to ignore it.

He let loose an obviously amused sigh and flung his duster, he’d been carrying, over his shoulder. “Right.” Spike turned to face her but was only met with a closed door.

“Towels are underneath the sink. Everything else should be in the shower caddy.” She backed up a few steps feeling a little better with a door now separating them. “Oh, and don’t mess with any of my stuff.”

“Yeah, like I’d touch any of your girly smelling soaps, Slayer. Big Bad ‘ere, love. I don’t want to be smelling like some daisy or what all,” he Spike called from the other side of the door.

“Ha…yeah, Spike, you’re so bad, trying to fix the pipes in my basement and then falling on your ass,” Buffy finished with a little laugh about to walk towards her room.

“Appreciate the gratitude, pet.” His retort was accompanied with the wet slap of his clothing against the tile floor. Buffy froze mid-step. So Spike was now, currently, shirtless, or pantsless. Both were equally bad from Buffy’s point of view.

Another slap.

Now Spike was officially naked. There was a nude Spike a few feet and an open door away from her. Her breathing became slightly labored at the image of his taught form pulling back the curtain and enveloping himself in the heated spray of the shower.

It would be so easy just to throw the door open and join him. Buffy knew he wouldn’t protest. ‘Hell, he’d probably welcome me with open arms, not to mention other more manly appendages,’ Buffy mused with a small snort.

It was a fantasy, of the never gonna’ happen variety, so she quickly pushed it to the back of her mind, to be pulled out and used later if and when the situation called for it.

With a smirk and a sigh, Buffy made her way into her bedroom effectively ignoring the showering vampire. Today had been difficult to say the least, and up until a few seconds ago Buffy had forgotten that. Spike had a way of clouding her head causing her to take her stress and disregard it without a second thought. He was comforting that way. It was nice to know there was always at least one person she could be herself around, someone whom she didn’t have to pretend with. The fact that it happened to be Spike, her currently naked and sometimes morally ambiguous ex-enemy, was curse and a blessing in and of itself.

That first night, the night she reluctantly scratched her way back to living color, he’d awoken something within her, a fact she scarcely admitted to, but it was the truth all the same. When he looked her and saw—God, she had no idea what he saw, but it seemed beautiful and wonderful and full of elation that she could never begin to describe yet alone try to feel. It terrified her. It amazed her, and as suddenly as she had realized it, she’d packed it away into the deepest recesses of her mind never to be dwelled on again. The truth was startling, and she had too much on her plate to deal with it. Spike was such a paradox to her, so full of complications, that she had no idea where to begin to try and understand him.

She wasn’t saying she loved him. Buffy was sure it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t nothing either, a reality he’d be delighted to hear if only she had the courage. She’d hidden herself behind comfortable banter and been happy with their light-hearted friendship as of late. It was easy and with all the baggage she’d been lugging around since age 15 it was safer.

Click. Snap. Fizzle. Ding.

The shower turned off, and the sounds of someone rustling around in the bathroom next door could now be heard. Buffy had been promptly seated in the middle of her bed when there was a light knock on the door. Having been deep in thought only seconds ago, her head whipped around only to be greeted by a very shirtless Spike with barely a towel to cover his bottom half.

With an audible gulp, Buffy’s eyes widened, taking in his relaxed form.

“‘Lo there, love. Got any extra clothes left behind I can snag? Mine are a little worse for wear at the moment.”

Chapter 3: Backside

“Uh….gah.” Suddenly Buffy had all the verbal ability of a newborn. The only thoughts she could muster sounded a lot like ‘how secure is that towel?’ It would only take a slight yank to reveal Spike in all his glory. A shudder swept through Buffy’s body at the thought. The light blue cloth hung dangerously low on his hips and hardly made the trip to wrap around his body. His hair was a maze of chaotic bleached curls from a quick towel dry she suspected, although she knew it was still slightly damp from the little water droplets that slide down his chest.

“You alright, pet?” He took a step closer one hand running through his hair trying to smooth it and the other hovering at his waist keeping the towel in check.

“Oh… me? Yeah, I’m just peachy.” Buffy rapidly removed herself from the center of her bed and made her way over to her closet eyelids fluttering slightly as she fought her out of her lust-induced haze. “I’m sure I have something in here you can use,” she said throwing a glance back in his direction. With another gulp Buffy set her mind to focus on the task at hand. SPIKE. NEEDS. CLOTHES. NOW.

She began to tear through the previously abandoned corners of her closet, while Spike took a seat on the edge of her bed with a smirk.

It was obvious the Slayer was all to keen on his physique. She practically jumped out of her skin when she laid eyes on his towel-clad form. He really hadn’t planned the night to go this route. All Spike had really expected was to attempt to help her out and then get promptly thrown on his ass for his efforts. Something was different though, and hell if he wasn’t going to take advantage of it.

“Here,” Buffy said as clothes were thrust into Spike’s line of view, a pair of oversized navy sweatpants and a large white t-shirt.

“Soldier Boys?” he questioned grabbing what was so kindly offered to him.

She only nodded in response and took a seat in this space beside him. ‘If I don’t look, I won’t be tempted, and if I’m not tempted there will be no badness…’ Buffy worked hard mentally repeating the litany. However her plan was swiftly ruined as he stood from the bed sweatpants in hand and tugged away the towel as if it was as flimsy as a feather.

Her mouth hung open as she gaped as his naked backside. ‘At least he had the decency to turn the other way,’ she thought then quickly reassessed; ‘No turn the other way…the other way…’ she shouted inwardly.

He was talking now. His mouth was clearly moving and she could make out the twitching muscles in his jaw line from the turned side of his face, but none of his words made it to her ears. Buffy was closed off, shut down. She couldn’t move or speak; she could only sit stock with this ridiculous look on her face that made her attraction noticeably obvious. Buffy then remembered that he could smell her anyway; probably from the first second he strutted through the doorway. She was completely screwed.

“…But yeah. So I figured the two of us should probably go have a look in the next—Slayer?” He turned around slowly appearing totally innocent as if he wasn’t aware of the staggering effects he had on her. The sweatpants were finally firmly in place; the t-shirt on the other hand was still discarded atop Buffy’s bed spread.

“Sorry. What were you saying?” She gazed up at him expectantly trying to ignore the rising heat in her cheeks.

One eyebrow arched, Spike stalked a few steps toward her. “Buffy, love, is there a problem? Sure you’re feeling all right? You look a little flushed.” His hand graced the side of her face lightly as if checking her temperature.

So he was going to play the innocent act, Buffy surmised. Well, she would not stand for it. He’d already let her in on his all too excellent sense of smell, and there was no way he wasn’t conscious to the effect he was having on her. Plus, she couldn’t just let Spike think he could be dropping his denims all willy-nilly. She had to keep those vampires in check, or there was no telling what they’d start stripping off…which sometimes might not be the worst scenario where Spike was concerned…but that was beside the point. She had to focus.

“OH…don’t play naïve with me mister. You know exactly what you’re doing, with the innuendos, and the sniffing and…flashing me your backside!” Buffy was on her feet now pushing him to sit on the bed as she glared towering over him. “You can’t just go doing that, Spike, and pretend like it’s nothing. You were completely naked inches from my face!”

“Sounds like you’re a little fixated. Doesn’t it, Slayer? It was only my bum. I really didn’t think you’d mind,” Spike finished with a shrug reaching for the t-shirt beside him.

Buffy snatched it out of reach before he even made contact. “Didn’t think I’d mind? Didn’t think? We’re enemies, Spike. Me and you, the two of us, we don’t get along, and we certainly don’t go stripping off towels in front of each other either.” Anger winding down, Buffy perched herself on the bed next to Spike.

“Oh.”

There was a tone in his voice that caught Buffy off-guard. She turned to glance at him. “What?”

“We haven’t been enemies in a long while, Buffy, at least not to me, and as of late, I don’t know…I thought we were getting along well enough…” He ran a hand awkwardly through his hair and moved to stand. “But, listen, I’ll get out of your way; grab my wet ones and go. Thanks for the outfit…I’ll drop it by sometime.”

He was right. They weren’t enemies and they barely ever had been. Honored opponents, equal adversaries, maybe, but Buffy had never truly hated Spike and he’d given half-hearted attempts at best to finish her off. And now…they were friends. They often fought and argued with each other, but they were friends all the same. He could be there for her like no one else, and he was the only one that…

And now he was about to walk out the door.

“Spike, wait.” Buffy jumped up grabbing his wrist. “You’re right. We do get along sometimes, and since you’re basically impotent I guess we’re not enemies.” She smirked very pleased with her jab.

“’Oi! I’m not impotent, love…. far from it actually,” Spike leered at her running his tongue sensually over his teeth and then finishing with his lips. “Your smell’s the perfect evidence to that, Slayer.” He said with a chuckle moving past her for the t-shirt now laying the ground.

“I KNEW IT! You knew exactly what you were doing the whole time.” Buffy quickly stepped towards him pushing him back so he fell on to the bed once more. The shirt was once again forgotten on the ground.

“You arrogant, infuriating, pig-head, asshole.” Each word landed him with another shove until he was completely sprawled on her bed. He kept taking her flack until she was practically laying atop him both their lungs heaving out air. His was just for show, of course.

He was so aggravating. Just when she thought he was actually being sincere. Just when she was actually feeling bad for him…he…he…he looked incredibility hot.

Buffy had maneuvered him into the most vulnerable position and he was gazing up at her with such heat and desire that it made every inch of her quiver.

She couldn’t handle this anymore, the fighting, the arguing, and the tingles. The intensity was overwhelming her and all of the sudden there was nothing Buffy could do but give in.

Her arms nearly collapsed in on her as she crashed her lips to his. It took him a few fevered moments to respond, but speedily he began reaching out towards her and nipping hungrily at the edges of her mouth. The kiss was sloppy, as they both seemed all to eager to begin ripping each other’s clothes off.

Buffy had never been so happy that she’d slapped that shirt away from Spike. Twice.