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“I’m going to need a caterer for the showing,” Buffy mused to Spike the following morning as they lay in the guest room, limbs tangled.

Brushing her hair through his fingers he murmured, “Mmm… does this mean you have to speak with Anya?”

She nodded.

“Or get another caterer?”

“Well, it’s kind of a catch-22, I’m thinking,” she said, looking up into his cerulean orbs and finding herself getting lost.

He grinned slightly, “Damned if you do and damned if you don’t?”

“Right. On the one hand she’ll be pissed and thinking I’m running off with my tail between my legs if I don’t ask her to do it, on the other hand she’s probably going to think I’m a loon for asking her.”

“Do you care?”

“About which one?”

“Either.”

She frowned slightly, “I know you don’t.”

“Well, no.”

“But yeah, I do. I mean . . . Yes, I am angry with her for the things she said, but Spike . . . she lashed out. She was angry with me and I got her where it hurt—“

“That being me?”

“Right.”

“I beg to differ.”

She looked at him incredulously, “How can you beg to differ that one?”

“Because Anya is egotistical. She has to be the center of attention and she has to be the one everyone loves and adores. She has to be looked up to and believes she’s a Goddess and we should all worship her—“

“So, what is it you’re trying to say?” Buffy asked, puzzled.

He tweaked her nose, “If you let me finish. . . “

She laughed, “Sorry. Go ahead.”

He smiled lovingly at her, “It was her pride that was hurt more. Somewhere in her mind she was hoping that I was regretting breaking up with her and pining away for her. To find out that not only was I not thinking of her and I’d moved on—“

“With the widow,” Buffy supplied softly.

“However,” he continued, “I also think she is jealous about me concerning you.”

She was thoroughly confused now. “Isn’t that what we just said?”

“No. Let me explain that better,” he chuckled.

She smiled brightly, “Please do.”

“After Doyle died, she was the one you depended on. You needed her and Anya thrives on being needed and depended on. It gives her a boost and not all of the things she does is out of the kindness of her heart when it comes to her ‘giving’—“

She drew back some, “Are you saying that she got a boost from my misery because I depended on her?”

“Yes. She was the sage guru. The one you went to for answers; for everything, right?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said slowly, not liking where this was going.

“The whole debacle with Riley and always trying to control you in some manner—“

She opened her mouth to debate that and he cut her off with his finger pressed to her lips.

“Hold on, let me finish. Whether it was justified or not, or needed or not, which I realize a lot of the time it was – Anya built it up in her mind that you cannot function without her. She treats you more like a child at times than a grown woman that just needs a little understanding and support. Just like you said she does with the—“

“With the coddling,” Buffy murmured, nodding in agreement.

“Right. So now, she sees you don’t need her as much anymore – or at all—“

“She was –is—my best friend, Spike.”

He pouted, “Can’t I be your best friend? You’re mine.”

She smiled gently, “Thank you. You are my friend, yes, but women best friends are few and far—“

“Your male best friend then?”

She laughed and kissed him quickly before turning serious again. “So you think that part of the reason she’s so upset is because I found someone else to – to – lean on?”

“Buffy, you don’t just ‘lean’ on me,” he told her firmly. “And if you do, then it’s all part of the package and I lean on you just as much. But it’s not about that. We’re not about that.”

She smiled, “I know,” and she smoothed a hand down the side of his face.

“Do you? Cause, Buffy . . . you’re not as weak as you think you are.”

“So you keep saying.”

“And I will keep saying until you believe me. Until you see it for yourself.”

“I do feel better than I have in a long time.” She smirked, “But I thought maybe that had to do with the fantastic sex.”

He grinned, “Fantastic, huh?”

She laughed and burrowed into him, nestling her head under his chin and wrapping her arms around him.

“You feel better,” he told her huskily, pecking the top of her head, “Because you’re getting your feet on the ground. You feel stronger, don’t you?”

“Much.”

“And I had nothing to do with it—“

Her head popped up, nearly clocking him in the chin and he reared back a bit. “No,” she reprimanded him. “You had a lot to do with that.”

“The gallery was all you, baby.”

“But . . . you did have something to do with it. Anya has tried to get me to go back, she really has and I didn’t want any part of it. It took a spark – you helped give me something back that I was lacking and didn’t know what it was—“

“Love,” he whispered, placing his brow against hers.

“Anya loves—loved—me—“

“She’s also a selfish bint who would have turned around and said ‘Aren’t you glad I made you go back? You wouldn’t have been able to do it without me.’”

“Well, that’s pushing it, she wouldn’t have said that last part—“

“Okay, fine, maybe not flat out said it, but would have alluded to it; would have still found a way to make you feel that you couldn’t have done it without her. I never told you to go back Buffy. You did that all on your own. You saw the need to go back and take charge. You saw it all on your own.”

“Well, you alluded to the fact that she coddled me and tried to control me,” Buffy reasoned.

“But you never believed me. I didn’t do anything except love you, Buffy.”

“Well, then,” she took a deep, shuddering breath, “That’s what I needed, isn’t it?”

“When people are truly on your side, it’s amazing what you can do, but Buffy, you would have done it anyway. I know, eventually, you would have.”

She gave him a watery smile, “You have a lot of faith in me, huh?”

He nodded, “You bet I do. I give as good as I get, Buffy, trust me. This,” he gestured to his bare chest, “Is all because of you.”

“Well, it’s all for me,” she reasoned.

He smiled, “That’s true, it is. All that I am is for you.”

“The true test is being able to take your shirt off in front of others when, say, we go to the beach.”

He sighed, “Baby steps, Buffy. Remember?”

She grinned cheekily, “Of course I do. Same goes for me.”

“The important thing here is—“

“Wait,” she held up a hand, “I know this. The important thing here is that we do it all together, right?”

He narrowed his eyes, “You mocking me, little girl?”

She laughed, “I think I’m the older one here, pal. You’re the ‘little boy’.”

He tackled her, nestling himself between her legs and rubbing himself against her. “What’s this about ‘little’?” he growled.

Giggling, she leaned up and kissed him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. “You’re definitely the Big Bad, Spikey.”

He grinned, “I ever tell you how much I love that?”

“I think, however, that ninety percent is about you and ten percent is about me.”

He blinked, “You jumped there, kitten. Thought we were done with Anya.”

She shrugged, “Sometimes my train of thought in inconsistent. Can you keep up?” she asked innocently, teasing him.

Nudging his erection against her, he elicited a gasp. “I don’t know,” he drawled, “Can you?”

*************

Buffy insisted on taking a shower by herself, and Spike knew that no matter how innocent he tried to act, his girl saw right through him. She knew he’d use showering together as a way to ‘fornicate’ some more.

He knew it might sound crazy, but as much as he loved making love to her, he also enjoyed the moments like this morning, when all they did was lay together and talk. It was a meeting of the mind, the heart and their souls. She was more than just his lover, more than just his best friend; she was his partner and his equal.

She was . . . everything. Everything he never knew he needed—and wanted. All in one tiny package. She was more woman than she gave herself credit for and he couldn’t wait for her to figure it out and showcase it just a little bit more. She brought him to his knees already, when she felt ‘whole’ again, completely, she was sure to have a willing slave in him.

Listening to the shower still going, Spike eyed the bedroom door -- her bedroom door. When they’d come up the night before it had been slightly ajar and he could only get a glimpse of frilly curtains and yellow undertones.

It was a source of mystery to him. It was ‘The Room’. The room that ultimately would one day breech their relationship to more – it would make them a solid couple. It would make her his completely. He knew that a part of her would always love Doyle, and he’d be lying if he said he was completely okay with that – and she knew as much too – but she would be even more his than she was now.

She would love him back and she’d say it, too. She’d also be able to say that he was her best friend; just as she was his.

Creeping down the hallway, Spike couldn’t help but be drawn to the door that led to ‘The Room’. His heart was thump, thump, thumping in his chest as he pushed lightly on the door and it swung just a smidge more open. He stood there, in the doorway, the door halfway open and he felt as if he were trespassing; as if somehow, he were betraying her by standing there with the pretense of going in.

He drew back, heading back to the guest room.

It wasn’t time yet. When she was ready, then he would be. That’s when they’d go in together.





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