“Do you feel better knowing that you’re safer now from the robbers, Buffy?”
Buffy’s expression was one of pure shock and horror. She stood there, mouth open, aghast.
Spike stepped forward. “First of all, how the hell do you know about that and secondly, that was just wrong, mate.”
Riley paled, looking at Buffy and started making like a guppy. “The Sarge called, that’s how.”
“Why was he calling you for? He only wanted me to know for now so I could break the news to Buffy.”
“Well, Gunn and I are the ones watching the place, Spike. Of course he’d want us to know.”
“Yeah, eventually, not now... Great, fucking bastard…” Spike muttered.
“I’m just going to go inside now,” Buffy murmured darted off, not even bothering to spare a glance behind her.
“You’re a moron, you know that?” Spike told Riley quite bluntly. “How could you say something so rude? Do you think Buffy was happy to have learned they’re dead?”
“I didn’t mean it that way…I just meant that…” Riley shook his head. “Crap, that came out all wrong.”
“Yeah, maybe you should go back to your post and think about what you did,” Spike said, shooing him with his hand. Glaring at him, Riley turned and walked away like a dog with his tail between his legs.
“You all right, pet?” Spike asked, touching her arm gently. Buffy looked up at him, noting how it didn’t annoy her when Spike touched her like that, but it annoyed her to no end when Riley did it.
“Yeah,” she said slowly, “I just don’t get why he said that. I mean…I can understand a person feeling happy that their thieves had been caught, but to say something like my being happy they were dead? That was just…”
“Wrong.”
“Right.”
“He’s just…he’s an oaf. A gigantic, bumbling oaf. And I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but he didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. I think he was really trying to be nice. But Riley tries way too hard.”
Buffy wrinkled her nose, “Yeah, he does.” Shaking her head, she heaved a big sigh and clapped her hands together. “So. Want to go for that run now?”
Spike grinned. “Do you ever stop?”
“I do, but I don’t feel like it today.”
Cocking his head to the side, Spike eyed her curiously. “Running from something, pet?”
“No,” she shook her head, causing her ponytail to slap her in the face. “I’d like to think I’m running to something.”
“And what would that be?”
“Peace of mind.”
Spike always thought he was in fair shape. He could chase down a thief if the situation called for it, and with minimal huffing and puffing, but he was finding that running with Buffy was difficult. He figured chasing a thief had more to do with adrenaline than being in shape. Plus, it didn’t help that he smoked, though he hadn’t done that much since being at Buffy’s. He’d occasionally pop out for a cigarette, but it wasn’t as often as when he was at home.
After stopping the third time to catch his breath, he found he had a cramp forming in his side. Buffy pulled him to the side of the road in a patch of grass, and had him sit down. She got behind him and had him lean back into her, rubbing the area that was hurting him with just enough pressure with the palm of her hand.
Spike could feel her breasts pressing up against his back and could feel her warmth permeating through him. He had a vision of spinning around and tackling her to the ground, pounding into her right on the side of the road for all to see.
He lurched forward, “It’s good now.”
“Spike?”
He knew if he turned around, he’d likely pounce on her, so he stood to gain some distance, and turned to her. “I’m good.”
She smiled, “Okay.”
“Can we…you know…”
“Go back?”
He sighed, “Yeah.”
She giggled, “Sure. Want to just walk back now?”
He sagged in relief, “Yeah, please.”
“Maybe tomorrow, we can make it all the way to two miles,” she teased.
Spike was feeling something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling: at home, and at peace. When they’d gotten back from their run, they’d dropped off to their respective rooms and taken showers, and while Buffy putzed around the house for a while, Spike watched TV. So comfortable was he, that he fell asleep.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, only that he knew he shouldn’t have done that. Scratching his belly, he meandered into the kitchen and found Buffy making her fruit salad. He smiled watching her mutter to herself and dash here and there to grab the various fruit she had scattered all over. She was so…cute.
She looked up to see him and smiled, “Hi. Have a nice nap?”
He frowned, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Nonsense. If there was trouble, I was here.”
“Yeah, but you can’t…” he broke off.
“Hear them?”
He said nothing.
“Spike, it’s all right. I am aware that I can’t hear them, but I have a new alarm, the cameras are set up and Riley and Gunn are outside.” She shrugged. “It was no big deal.”
“Well, to me it is. If something happened to you on my clock—“
“Spike, it’s okay. I feel much safer with Gunn and Riley out there, and with you in here – asleep or not, than I did with just Angel and Andrew.”
“So, looking good,” he mused, watching her work.
“Yeah, it does—ow!”
Sprinting over, Spike grabbed the knife from Buffy’s hand and pulled her hand to him, checking to see how deep the cut was. It wasn’t bad, but it needed tending.
Pulling her to the sink, Buffy protested. “Spike, I’m fine—“
“Hush. I’m going to fix it.”
She smiled, “I’m fine. You know how many times I’ve cut myself? I’m a menace in the kitchen.”
“No, you’re not. I’ve tasted your food, you’re bloody brilliant.”
“Never knew that everything was flavored with my blood huh?” she giggled.
He gave her a horrified look and she giggled some more. He smiled slowly, broadly, as he tended to her cut, washing it, wrapping it in a paper towel and making her stay put while he went in hunt for a band aid.
She watched him tend to her, silently, and mused how tender he could be when he wanted to be. He was quite chivalrous, and that went beyond his serve and protect motto as a cop. Nothing said he had to go above and beyond just watching her house. Nothing said he had to sleep in her room to drive away the nightmares, or tend to her wounds or make her breakfast or even take her out. For all intents and purposes, all he had to do was just stay there. He could be the proverbial bump on a log, just keeping post. At times she sensed he wanted to do just that, but he wasn’t one to stay quiet and still for long. She liked to think that she had some pull on him, that he enjoyed her company. After today, as a matter of fact, she thought they’d made definite steps towards being friends.
“There,” he said, drawing her finger to his mouth and kissing it lightly. “All better.”
She smiled nervously, thinking of those lips and how they felt on hers the night before. It wasn’t until now that she felt there was an elephant in the room. It could be her reaction to his touch, and his caring. He really wasn’t looking at her as hotly as she thought, was he? It didn’t escape her that no matter how confident she could be in some areas, this was the one area she lost all of her confidence.
“So,” he said, scratching his head and looking around. “You made dessert, so how about I make dinner?”
“What are you going to make?”
“Well, I was thinking I could make pasta. The kind my father taught me to make, from scratch. You got tomato sauce and tomatoes?”
“Oooh…that sounds good already.”
He grinned. “If you stick around, I’ll teach you.”
“I’d like that. Let me grab a pen and paper too…”
“I’ll help you clean up this mess first.”
And so they set to work, cleaning up the kitchen and preparing for dinner. Working side by side, they moved easily and in sync with each other. A few times, they got in one another’s way and they would smile and chuckle, tease one another and move on.
Spike, being the good teacher, and Buffy the model student, they worked together to make their dinner, and when it was all set on the table and ready to go, Buffy brought out the wine.