Spike was past caring about possible witnesses as he carried a dozing Slayer up the walk to her front door. Who cared about other vamps when it felt so right having her slight weight in his arms, her small form pressed against his chest and her warm breath tickling his neck? He managed to unlock the door and carry her inside without waking her.

Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he debated whether or not to wake her or to carry her up to her bedroom. One look at the sleeping beauty in his arms gave him his answer.

As he made his way up the stairs he realized that he’d never been on the second floor of the Summers household. Now if only he could find her bedroom... Ah, of course--the one with the New Kids on the Block posters. He grimaced at the five smiling faces that looked down at him as he entered the room. Why anyone in their right mind would ever voluntarily listen to that kind of crap was beyond him. Stupid poofters--probably busy buggerin’ each other in the dressing rooms between sets...

Gently setting the sleeping girl on her bed, Spike reached over and pulled the comforter over her. He stood up, rocking on the balls of his feet. Never good at fighting temptation--nothing ventured, nothing gained had always been his motto--he reached down and placed a soft kiss on Buffy’s cheek. “’Night, Slayer.”

The hand that caught his arm nearly made him jump out of his skin. “Spike? Wait...”

Buffy had been swaying between sleep and wakefulness ever since the car had stopped in her driveway. She’d expected Spike to wake her up so she could walk to the house, but the unusually protective and caring vampire was still present, taking her in his arms instead.

Those strong arms--why hadn’t she ever noticed that he was so well built? Add his solid chest to the mix, and she found herself wanting to be held by him for an eternity--and then some. So she’d worked at keeping her breathing slow and deep, keeping up the appearance of sleep. Nuzzled against him, taking in his scent of leather, cigarettes and everything else that was Spike. A moan of disappointment almost squeaked out when she’d been deposited in her bed. He had promised her that they’d talk and she was going to hold him to that. What better time than now, when they were both still under the spell of actually being nice to each other?

So she hadn’t been asleep--naughty Slayer. Playing him so she could... what? So she could stay in his arms like in those poncey fairy tales? Not bloody likely--more likely that she was too tired to walk on her own and didn’t want to impose. Easier to feign unconsciousness. His blue eyes were captured by her hazel ones, unable to look elsewhere--even if he’d tried.

Buffy smiled nervously, almost too coy to go ahead with her plan. What if he wanted to let her down--he’d only kissed her cheek, after all. What if he really didn’t think of her like that, but more in a friendship capacity? What if... What if, what if, what if. If you don’t go ahead with this, all you’ll be stuck with will be a bunch of what ifs. “You promised me a talk, remember?” She eased the pressure of her hold on the vampire’s sleeve, but didn’t let go altogether.

Spike’s brow furrowed. Talk? Huh? Oh, that talk... The ‘we almost kissed’ talk. “Are you sure you’re up to this, pet? Why don’t we wait till tomorrow, when you don’t need your sleep so much...”

Oh, no you don’t! “Spike, the doctor said bed rest. I’m in bed, and I’m resting. As far as I’m concerned I’m heeding his advice. Talking won’t hurt me--and it won’t hurt you.” She let go of his sleeve and padded the bed beside her. “Now sit.”

The blonde vamp chuckled. “Well, looks like there’s no arguing with you, eh, Slayer? Fine--I’ll sit, we’ll talk--but if you look like you’re in desperate need of forty winks, this is over and you’re going to sleep. Hear?” He removed his duster and placed it on a chair before sitting down on the bed beside the Slayer. Half his concentration would go to their discussion, half to push away the thought that both he and she were in her bed, at the same time...

Buffy pulled herself up into a sitting position against the bed’s headboard, letting Spike fuss over placing pillows around her. Geez, you’d think I was dying or something... “Ok, ok--that’s enough. I’m drowning in pillows...” Although--not that she’d admit it out loud--she was much comfier with the extra pillows.

Awkwardly taking his cool hand in hers, she forced herself to make eye contact with the vampire. No use having one of these talks if they didn’t at least look at each other. “I’m not usually word girl, so let me muddle through this.” Buffy pursed her lips, trying to find the right way to voice her feelings. “Things have changed between us--for the better--since you accepted to help me, help us, rather. What you did for me tonight, it let me see you in a new light.”

“Really, pet--it was nothing...” Spike’s interruption was cut short by a well-manicured finger pressed against his lips. Oh, to take that finger in his mouth and taste it... He bit back a moan, squirming in place in order to readjust his physical reaction to her touch.

“Shush! Just let me get this out, then you can have your say, ok?” When he nodded silently, a strange look on his face, Buffy pressed ahead. “You treated me as well as Mom or any of my friends would have, if they’d been in your place. Even more so, I think--I doubt Mom would have molly-coddled me anywhere near as much... Anyway, I’m getting off track here. What I mean is that before you agreed to patrol, we were nothing but bitter enemies. You hated me and I hated you, and that was it. Vampire and Slayer, end of story. And after the bronze, we’ve been able to tolerate each other, but now...”

The young woman was temporarily distracted by the look in Spike’s eyes--the one she’d noticed before resuming her speech. Her breath hitched when she finally recognized the naked longing in his gaze. It was a look that hadn’t been directed at her since that first year with Angel. But Spike’s eyes didn’t hide anything--she could actually see the affection, the worry, the need... “But now I don’t see you as a monster, a dead thing, anymore. I don’t just see someone who’s killed--probably babies and children and pregnant women.” The flash of pain in his eyes confirmed her thoughts in the hospital. “I see someone who’s changing, who’s working on becoming a better person. Spike, you didn’t need to be cursed with a soul--I think you’ve got something inside of you already, a spark maybe--I don’t know. And it’s letting me see a Spike that I like--I really like--to be around.” Please read between the lines, please.

The Slayer’s admission hit Spike hard. She liked him, and she must have an idea that he liked her too or else she wouldn’t be telling him this. He wanted to pick her up in his arms, to surround her body with his, to open the window and yell to the world that... Wait. Scratch that last one--too poncey for a master vampire, that--yelling out of windows and such Williamish nonsense.

She lay there staring at him, obviously awaiting an answer of sorts. Worry was apparent in her eyes--was she afraid that he’d laugh at her? Shoot her down with stinging words and a sharp tongue? Maybe at one time, he would have done that to her. But not now. He took both of her hands in his, kissing them both before pulling her towards him into an embrace. Hugging her as tightly as he felt comfortable, he let out a sigh of relief that mimicked her own. Nose buried in her golden hair, he finally admitted it out loud. “Oh God, Slayer--Buffy, I don’t think I’m falling for you. I know I have. As hard as any man ever could. You’re such a wonderful woman, so strong, so beautiful...”

The young woman pulled back, wonder in her eyes. “You... you think I’m beautiful?”

Spike looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “Of course I do!” He ran a finger down her cheek and along the column of her neck. “Even when I hated you, when I wanted to kill you, I thought you were beautiful.” A wry smile on his lips, he added: “Not that I ever would have admitted it.” That last sentence got a giggle out of the Slayer, and both blondes were noticeably more at ease with these revelations.

“Stay with me tonight?” Buffy didn’t know where the question had come from. It was almost as if her mouth had opened of its own accord, although the thought had been at the back of her mind.

“Luv--I don’t think we should, not after...” Oh, how he wanted to. He wanted her so badly--it was like a raw ache. He needed to be close to her, to have her scent cover him, to feel her warm body pressed against his. But now was certainly not the time for that--he’d stake himself if he’d hurt her...

The Slayer blushed at his interpretation of her request. He thought she wanted to... oh! Not that that would be bad, not in the least... Just not tonight, though. “I know we can’t do that tonight. I just want you to hold me.” A bit of blackmail never hurt, either. “I’ll sleep much better with you here.”

“Alright, luv.” Yeah, twist my arm... Spike stood up, removed his boots and socks, and began to unbutton his shirt. He stopped suddenly, looking a bit awkward. “Uh, Slayer? How do you want to do this?”

Buffy hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. She herself was still dressed in her patrolling clothes. How were they going to do this? “Well, first of all, can you pass me the pyjamas that are on the chair, there?”

Spike tossed them to her and turned around to give her some privacy. It also allowed him to hide his smile from her--who knew that the Slayer wore pyjamas with monkeys on them? It was just another layer of Buffy that he was discovering. At her indication that she was decent, he turned back around to face her. Now the dilemma--what about him?

It felt awkward asking him this, but she had to ask: “Uh--do you wear boxers or briefs?”

Buffy so hadn’t been ready for his answer of ’neither’. Her face took on a bright red hue and her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She squeaked out an “oh” before turning her attention to a very, very interesting flower on her bedspread. Hey, that’s a posy--never noticed that before...

Chuckling, the bleached vamp removed his shirt, and the T-shirt that was underneath. “Don’t worry, pet--I’ll leave the jeans on.” He moved to the bed, sliding under the covers, spooning Buffy’s body into his. “Now give in to sleep, love.” He pressed the flat of his hand against her abdomen and kissed the back of her neck. “You and the bit both need it.”

As she faded from consciousness, the last thoughts on Buffy’s mind were how good Spike’s body felt pressed against her, and easy it would be to fall asleep in his arms every night.