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Spike tossed and turned. Then turned and tossed again.

Though, try as he may, sleep stubbornly refused to come. Maybe it was because vampires were supposed to sleep during the day, and not at night. But his biological clock was a bit loopy at present anyway, thanks to the extenuating circumstances at hand. Plus, he couldn't help but replay his conversation with Buffy over and over again, letting it fester in the back of his mind.

Soddin' couch,' he thought to himself as he turned over yet again in a vain attempt to get more comfortable. 'Don't think I'll ever be able to turn my bleedin' head again.'

Letting out a small groan of frustration, he rubbed his neck where the cramped muscles were starting to throb in protest.

'Bugger it. Who am I kidding, I can't sleep,' He thought bitterly.

He'd spent most the night thinking about what Buffy had said, and what exactly it all meant...for him, for their future...

Assuming they even had one.

Buffy had always run a bit hot and cold, especially when it came to their relationship. She was like the little angel on his shoulder... no, more like the little devil, whispering in his ear, constantly taunting him, reminding him of everything he always wanted and could never have. How could he have been so stupid to assume things were different? Was he foolish to ever think they could be?

Standing abruptly, he yanked his duster off the floor and slid his arms into the sleeves, barging outside to fulfill his unrelenting craving for a smoke. He fished for his trusty silver lighter in the back pocket of his jeans before taking a seat on the front porch steps. Lighting up quickly, he let out a stiff puff of smoke, the cigarette embers smoldering in the darkness.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, his entire body tensed slightly when he realized he was no longer alone.

He sensed her before he even heard her, the aroma of her sweet perfume filling his nostrils.

Buffy.

"You too, huh?"

Spike snuffed out his cigarette on the step next to him.

"Can't sleep." He explained, shrugging casually.

"Kinda figured." She stepped forward, taking a seat next to him on the porch step. "Me neither."

Spike didn't answer. He felt her eyes on him, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he didn't know what to say, and in some ways he hated how she was currently playing it off like nothing happened between them.

'Ball's in your court, slayer.'

As if reading his mind, Buffy began to speak.

"I've been thinking..."

"First mistake," Spike interjected. It was meant to be a joke, but came out sounding a bit harsher than he intended.

Silence enveloped them again, briefly, until he suddenly heard her let out a loud sigh, then...

"I'm sorry."

Well, he hadn't been expecting that.

He looked at her curiously, tilting his head slightly to one side. She looked down at her lap, and for the first time, he noticed that she was wringing her hands together, one of her nervous habits.

"Are you, now?" Raising an eyebrow, he awaited her response.

Lifting her head, she met his gaze, and one look in her eyes told Spike that her words were sincere.

"It might not mean much, but I am sorry. About everything."

And that was all that needed to be said, for the time being. They'd made amends, but now came the really tricky part... the TALK.

After sitting together for several long moments in a fairly uncomfortable silence, Spike couldn't contain himself any longer.

"What exactly is this, between us?" He gestured with his hand, indicating the two of them. Turning his body so he could directly face her on the steps, he dropped his hands in exasperation. "What do you want, Buffy?"

She swallowed, hard, took in a deep breath.

"When have you ever known me able to give a definitive answer to that?" Shaking her head, she worked her bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling furiously. "I think that's always been my issue."

'The day you suss out what you do want, there'll probably be a parade. 76 bloody trombones.'

That statement couldn't have rang truer, it seemed.

Spike snorted. "Bit of an understatement, luv."

Ignoring him, Buffy continued.

"There are a few things I do know..." She stared straight ahead, out into the night. Gathering her courage, she looked at Spike from the corner of her eye before continuing.

It was truth time.

"I know that I missed you. And when you died, a piece of me went with you... I know that you, being here, makes me happy." She drew in a shaky breath and, looking upward, caught Spike's gaze. He was surprised to see the tears that glistened there, pooling in the emerald depths.

"And I know," She whispered, "That I want you in my life." A tear welled up, spilled over, making a salty trail that glistened against her skin in the pale moonlight. Her voice was so small now, so feeble, that Spike barely even heard her last comment.

"Well, that's something." He replied softly, having to physically restrain himself from taking her in his arms, stroking her hair, telling her everything would be alright. Despite the sorrow in her voice, there was something else there that Spike couldn't quite place, something he could tell she was still holding back, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, they sat side by side in silence, much like they used to, even before Spike got his soul back.

Then, upon noticing the first faint hint of light peeking over the horizon, Spike stood up quickly.

"Sun's coming up," He explained, "Better hit the hay before I fit in an ashtray."

Buffy nodded her understanding, and he offered his hand which she accepted, allowing him to pull her to her feet next to him. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand from his, going inside the house ahead of him.

"Dawn'll be back soon," Buffy commented, wrapping her arms around her waist. "That is, assuming she didn't pull another round robin on me. And sooo not wanting to deal right now if she did." Spike chuckled slightly at this, remembering when the nibblet snuck out on Halloween night, giving her big sis quite a scare.

"Anyway," Buffy continued, following Spike into the living room, "I think we're gonna have a lot of explaining to do... to everyone... And, we still have some..."

"Unfinished business?" Spike finished for her.

Buffy nodded curtly. "Yeah."

As Spike shed his duster and sat on the couch, leaning forward to slip his boots off, Buffy realized his intention. Taking a hesitant step forward, she cleared her throat.

"Spike, you don't have to sleep on the couch."

Spike snapped his head upward, surprised.

"It, uh, can't be comfortable," She amended.

Smiling politely, Spike leaned his elbows against his knees and clasped his hands in front of him, holding her gaze.

"'ve slept on worse," He reminded her.

"I know, but... you shouldn't have to, now..." Buffy towed with the collar of her shirt as she spoke. "You could use Dawn's room for now," She suggested.

"Right... I don't think Bit would appreciate coming home to find a supposedly toasted Big Bad in her bed."

Knowing he was right, Buffy realized there was only one other option...

"Then stay in my room."

His eyes widened slightly.

"Couch is fine, Buffy. Really."

But even as he said this, Buffy could see his discomfort as he rubbed at the strained muscles in the back of his neck. She crossed her arms tighter and arched an eyebrow as if to say "yeah, right".

"Alright, so I have a bit of a crink, but..."

"Spike... I'd feel better if you did..."

Seeing the genuine concern and sincerity in her eyes, Spike stood without further argument and followed her into her room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as he watched her move about the space.

Pausing to make sure the curtains were drawn so as not to let any sunlight in the room, Buffy turned to leave.

"Buffy?"

She turned. "I have some things to do..."

"Bollocks," Spike mumbled. "You've got to be just as knackered as I am. You haven't slept all night."

She realized he was right. First, he'd shown up at her doorstep. Then, she had that strange nightmare, and upon being jolted awake, they'd fought. Yet it was only now that she realized she'd gotten virtually no sleep during the whole impossibly long night, and now the sun was coming up. Spike was supposed to sleep during the day, but she wasn't, and she was quickly feeling the effects of not sleeping. Her dry eyes burned, and she was sure there must be dark circles marring her face. She let out a wide yawn.

"I need to get you some blood... from the butcher shop." She explained softly as the yawn subsided.

Again, Spike shook his head. "Doubt the butcher shop's open at this hour. 'Sides, I'm fine right now, Buffy. You need to rest..."

As she still hesitated to move, Spike sighed and poised to stand.

"Look, I can just..." But he trailed off as he felt her hand lightly touch his shoulder.

"No, stay."

No more words were spoken as he scooted backwards on the bed, waiting for her to climb in beside him. Hesitating for only the briefest of moments, she knelt on the bed before letting her head rest on the pillow next to him. They laid supine for several long minutes, both side by side but not touching and stiff as a board, neither quite sure of what to do. It was awkward, uncomfortable... It didn't feel right.

Quickly making up her mind, Buffy turned on her side, sliding her body close enough to pillow her head against his chest, letting her hand come to rest against his flat stomach. Spike responded immediately, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, and he had to bite his lip to keep from letting out a sigh of relief at her closeness. Smiling to herself, Buffy let her eyes close, blotting out everything in the world around her except for the feel of being in Spike's arms again.

'And tomorrow's a brand new day...'

Within seconds, they were both fast asleep.





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