“Stupid, stupid, stupid. . .” Buffy repeated over and over again as she banged her head against the wall of the shower. The cold water falling over her naked frame did nothing to cool its burning heat. She looked up into the running water, letting the cool liquid run down her parched throat. “Why me.” Buffy moaned to herself grabbing her hair in a bruising grip, running her fingers through the wet stands. The dripping locks brushed against the marks, pulling a gasp from her lips, her eyes going wide in dismay as another pulse of heat flew through her body.
“Good one Buffy.” She said sarcastically to herself, grabbing the shampoo bottle and waving it around in frustration. “Just a dream, Spike. Nothing to worry about. Why don’t you sniff me.” Buffy banged the bottle in her hand against the wall, breaking the hard plastic. Shampoo flew every which way, coating the shower and Buffy in its vanilla scented cream. She let out a frustrated yell and pulled down the shower head. She watched as the foam swirled down the drain, the small room filling with vanilla scent. With another sigh, she replaced the shower head and turned her back to the falling water. She scooped some of the remaining shampoo off her stomach and ran it through her hair, pilling it high on her head. The frigid water flowed over her back like a million icy fingers, stroking the tired muscles. Buffy could almost see Spike’s hands replace the water, their cool touch running over her skin in soothing a caress. She leaned back and almost fell as the body she was expecting was not there.
“Damn it!” Buffy swore, rinsing the shampoo from her hair harshly. “I will NOT think of that bleached idiot.” She quickly finished up and stumbled from the shower, wrapping her large terry cloth robe around her shaking frame. She stood in front of the mirror, staring at the wide-eyed girl before her. “What’s with me and the undead?” Buffy muttered as she rubbed a towel over her hair. “Why can’t I meet a nice normal guy.” She picked up the brush on the counter and ran it brutally through her hair. “Is it so much to ask? A nice, normal, good, guy. One I won’t scare away with my alarming strength and remarkable self-involvement.” She screamed in frustration, pulling the brush through her hair. A sharp pain blossomed from the back of her head. Buffy saw a large chunk of hair tangled in her brush and set it down with a sigh. She made sure her towel was secure before opening the door and walking into the hallway, almost being knocked over by a solid figure.
Spike placed a steadying hand on her arm, pulling her closer to him. She placed her hands on the hard, cool chest to steady herself, her body tingling from the contact. Buffy looked up to meet Spike’s gaze, a startled expression her face, before taking a large step back, clutching the towel tightly in her grasp.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Buffy spat out having recovered from her shock. Spike held up the board she had given him
‘Heard you scream.’ Buffy groaned and shook her head.
“And you thought what,” She asked. “That you could come save me from the big bad shower monster?” Spike smirked and scribbled on his board.
‘Thought I might get a free show.’ Spike’s smirk grew as Buffy stared aghast at him, her eyes wide. He added to the board. ‘Monster eating you, luv. Not that the other. . .’ He ran an appraising gaze over her towel clad body, following the stray drops of water as they rolled over her tanned shoulders to meet the towel. Buffy raised a hand to hit Spike before remembering his injuries. She settled for an eye roll and a glare. She pushed past the vampire and stomped down the hall to her room, slamming the door behind her.
Spike watched her go, a mixture of amusement and desire on his face. He erased his board with the tissue he pulled from his pocket and scribbled for a few moments. With an evil smirk Spike stalked quietly to the bedroom door, the miracles of Slayer’s blood having reduced his broken ribs and lip to a faint twinge. He listened for a few moments to the still ranting Slayer.
“How hard can it be?” Buffy’s voice came clearly through the shut door despite Spike’s enhanced hearing. “I could spend less time slaying, I could laugh at his jokes, I mean, men like that, right, the, the joke-laughing-at?” Spike laughed silently at Buffy talking to herself. “I don’t want the bleached-haired, evil, undead, unbelievably hot, tried to kill me, vampire slayer killing, vamp-” He tapping lightly on the door, breaking Buffy from her babbling. A loud crash came from the room just before the door was swung open wide, framing a scowling Slayer in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” Spike smirked and looked past Buffy to see the vanity chair lying over turned in the middle of the room, one of the legs bent. Buffy shifted uncomfortably, blocking Spike’s view of the room and leveled him with a glare. Spike handed her the board, the smirk still on his lips.
‘Sun’s down, I’ll be heading off to my crypt now.’ Buffy quickly looked up from the board.
“Is it safe?” Buffy blushed lightly at her worried tone. “I mean, with Glory still out there and you still hurt, not that I care or anything but you did save Dawn an-” Spike placed his hand over her mouth to stem the flow of words. Buffy sighed, her warm breath tickling his cool palm. A tingle ran down Spike’s back at the sensation, his eyes going dark. He dropped his hand quickly to his side. Buffy looked up at him questionably. “See, you still hurt.” Spike took the board from her hands and scrawled ‘What else am I to do?’ Buffy blushed and looked down at her feet nervously, before meeting his gaze again.
“You can stay here. For Dawn’s sake, she would want you to.” Buffy added quickly as Spike’s eyes widened in surprise. “I mean, you may be a little worse for wear,” Spike gave Buffy a doubtful look. “Ok, Glory royally kicked your ass but you still live.” Spike raised is scared brow. “Ok unlive.” Buffy sighed in frustration. “The point is that you can help keep her safe.” She looked at him, a inquiring expression on her face. “If you want to help that is.” Spike nodded slowly while he wrote on his board.
‘Of course I bloody well want to help. No one touches my Nibblet.’ The words were written in thick, dark print, a fierce expression on Spike’s face.
“Good.” Buffy smiled. “Now Let me get dressed and I will go with you to pick up some stuff from your crypt.” She laughed at Spike’s indignant look. “I know. You don’t need a bloody babysitter.” Buffy added in a bad imitation of Spike’s accent. Spike couldn’t help but laugh at her really bad attempt, clutching his stomach as the silent laughter refused to stop. Buffy scowled at the hysterical vampire before stepping back into her room, slamming the door behind her. The door opened a moment later and Spike’s black T-shirt as thrown at the vampire, shocking him from his laughter.
“Ten minutes. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Buffy slammed the door again. Spike looked at the shut door with amusement. A genuine smile crossed his lips as he sauntered down the hall to the stairs. He stopped and looked at the door, pulling his shirt painfully over his head. With a barely perceivable nod, Spike bound down the stairs to await his Slayer.