Buffy paced before the front door twirling her stake between her fingers. She fought the urge to fling the piece of wood in the wall. They definitely couldn’t afford to pay for a re-plaster job on top of the other bills. Spike was already five minutes late, and Willow was still home. If she would have just kept her mouth shut that morning, she could have taken off, and no one would have been the wiser. As it was the idea wasn’t looking all that bad, even if Dawn and Willow would berate her in the morning for not giving him a chance.
“No Spike yet?’
Buffy spun around to find Willow coming down the stairs. She was dressed in a thick, sleeveless blue sweater and a pair of low riding black pants. The outfit was rather daring for Willow, but Buffy was fairly certain she had picked out the outfit for Tara’s benefit.
“Apparently being punctual did not come with the soul,” the Slayer growled now tapping the stake against her thigh.
“Maybe he’s just trying to make himself all beautiful for your date,” Will teased as she stepped off the last step.
“That is so far from funny, Will,” her lips thinned into a disapproving line. “This is a patrol, most definitely not a date.”
“Oh, call it what you will,” her friend smiled broadly ignoring the glare she was getting. “You, Spike, moonlight… Sounds romantic to me.”
“Cemetery, vampires, open graves,” she ticked each item off on the fingers of her empty hand.
“Okay, okay,” Willow raised her hands in surrender. “It’s work. Don’t worry if you feel like putting in a little overtime. I won’t wait up!”
Buffy opened her mouth to deny Will’s comments, but the Wicca escaped out the door before she could think of something to say. She slammed the stake on the hallway table in frustration causing the phone to rattle in protest.
“Spike!” she called up the stairs. “Get you ass down here, or I’m leaving without you!”
****
Spike peered at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he ran a comb through his platinum locks. He had always gone to quite a bit of trouble with his appearance when he was going to see the Slayer, but being able to see the results was something rather novel.
He ran the comb slowly over his head studying each platinum strand as it fell into place. He had to admit seeing the shade for the first time. It was a rather interesting tint. He frowned slightly leaning over the sink to study his reflection closer. It must have been a trick of the light making a few of the strands here and there appear lighter than the rest, almost white even.
“Spike!”
He dropped the comb into the sink as the sound of Buffy’s voice rolled up the stairs, loud even through the closed door. He pulled himself away from the image in the mirror and exited the small room. Becoming human must have turned him into an idiot too. Buffy was waiting downstairs, actually waiting for him, and there he was wasting time obsessing over hair care.
****
“Finally,” Buffy rolled her eyes as he descended the stairs. “I could have sworn I said eight o’clock.”
“Like you’re Ms. Punctuality,” he shot back as he grabbed his duster from the banister and shrugged in on over his shoulders. “Excuse me for getting ready.”
“We’re going out to kill demons, or did you forget?” she snapped snatching her stake from the table. “They really don’t care if your hair is out of place.”
Spike winced slightly at her comment as he followed the petite blond out the door. Had she also noticed what he had seen in the mirror?
“Actually, luv,” he replied falling into step just behind her, “I’ve met quite a few demons who find their appearance quite important.”
“Kind of like Clem?” she shot back ignoring his lightly veiled shot at Angel.
“Hey, quite a few lady demons find Clem quite a catch,” Spike objected.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose,” Buffy sighed as she stepped through the cemetery gates. Clem seemed nice enough from the few times she had met him, but his “skin condition: could not really be teamed as attractive. “Can we please not talk anymore?”
“You brought it up,” he pointed out.
“I did not,” she snapped trying to keep her attention focused on the shadows and tombstones before her. “You were the one locked up in the bathroom half the night.”
“And I’m sure you just roll out of bed with that perfect hair and makeup,” he added one eyebrow rising up mockingly as his eyes roamed slowly down her body. How he loved watching her face flush with color when she was angry.
“Can we just drop it already!” Buffy clenched her teeth so tightly she thought they would crack.
“Fine,” he replied. “Where’s the Bit tonight? You didn’t send her off with Red for a beer or two?”
“No!” Buffy’s eyes rolled towards the sky. Was there any topic they couldn’t argue about? “She’s spending the night over at Janice’s.”
“Janice?” he paused to think a moment. “As in Halloween Janice?”
“Don’t worry,” she growled. “I made Janice’s mom come and pick her up. They’re not going to take any late night strolls. Thanks for your confidence in my parenting skills.”
“Not a problem, pet,” he smirked. “Just worry about Niblet is all. Don’t want to see her getting in with a bad crowd again.”
“I repeat,” she sighed. “Don’t worry about it. She’s my responsibility, and I am keeping and eye on her.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t. I just want her to stay safe, no little beasties at her neck,” he held up his hands partially in a sign of surrender and partially expecting the fists to start flying. This was usually the point where he ended up holding his nose grimacing in pain.
“I know,” Buffy replied quietly, “Can we not talk about this…anything, please. I’m here to do my job. Well, one of them anyway, and I’d really concentrate on not getting dead.”
His eyes widen in shock, and he felt the urge to look about the cemetery for alien body snatchers. It wasn’t like the Slayer to give up on their arguments so easily, not that he minded the non-pain aspect.
“Right, luv,” he replied searching the inside pocket of his duster for his cigarettes, “but I’ve never known you to dispatch an evil baddie without your fair share of jaunty banter.”
“God, Spike,” she glared at him getting even angrier with him for causing her to raise her voice while on patrol, “ do you ever…Look out!”
“What?” Spike gasped as the wind was knocked out of him He was about to curse at the Slayer for crushing his last cigarette and sending his favorite lighter wherever it might have landed, when the pain actually began to register. He glanced down at his shoulder to see four long nasty claw marks showing through his t-shirt. Behind him, he could hear Buffy fighting off whatever nasty had managed to sneak up on them while they were in the midst of their discussion. Slowly he got to his feet cursing the pain in his shoulder and his damned human hearing. He should have heard the big lumbering demon from halfway across the cemetery.
“Need a little help, luv?” he asked trying desperately to hide the grimace as he ran his fingers over the scratches on his shoulder. “I could hold him down for you or something.”
“Nope,” Buffy replied with a little smile as she managed to get her arm around the thing’s thick blue neck. She was actually enjoying having something to focus her attention on rather than work, teenage little sisters, or trouble with ex-vampires. “Think I got it handled.”
She pulled the demon’s horned head to the right a small smile coming to her lips when she heard a satisfied popping sound coming from its neck. It hadn’t nearly been the biggest battle of her life, but it had been just what she needed.
“Nice work, luv,” Spike declared looking down at the blue demon at the Slayer’s feet.
“Yeah, well, I…” her eyes drifted to his shoulder. “You’re hurt.”
“Just a scratch,” Spike replied with a shrug. This time he failed to hide the grimace as the pain squeezed through his shoulder and down into his arm.
“It’s not nothing,” Buffy stepped over the demon’s body and closed the distance between them. Carefully, she pushed back the bit of t-shirt covering the wound. The cuts weren’t all that deep, probably wouldn’t even need stitches, but she was sure he’d be quite sore for a while.
“It’s just a scratch,” he insisted. He was going to go running home to mummy over a little cut or two, but he had to admit he was enjoying her sudden concern for his wellbeing.
“Just a scratch that could get infected. You’re human now, remember?” she reminded him. “No more super healing powers.”
Luv,” he placed a finger under her chin gently urging her to look into his eyes, “I will be fine.”
“I…I…” she stammered feeling his gaze almost like a caress as his lips lowered to hers. “Spike, I…”
The rest of her sentence was lost against his lips as he tugged her behind the nearest crypt. She could have easily have stopped him, but she was so tired of fighting, and the feel of his hands running lightly down her spine to cup her bottom had all of her attention at the moment.
****
“Spike?” Buffy pushed a few stray hairs from her eyes as she leaned heavily against the cool stone of the crypt.
“Don’t say a word, Slayer,” he growled angrily cursing beneath his breath as he pulled his jeans back into place. “I don’t want to hear it!”
“Don’t be mad, Spike,” she insisted ignoring his protest. She stepped forward and placed her hands lightly on his shoulders. “It’s alright, really! It happens to all guys at one time or another. It’s no big deal.”
Spike shot a look over his shoulder that would have made even a master vampire run the other way. “It doesn’t happen to me,” he growled, “and I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”
Buffy sighed settling back against the crypt again as Spike stalked off towards home.
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