She hadn’t realized until she’d seen Parker and Gwen screwing on a pool table just how sheltered she really had been; and then of course to completely shatter her ‘shelterdness’ into smithereens, she watched them get shot. That was an image that visited her nightly. She could count on every night waking up at least once or twice to that image infiltrating her dreams.
Simply horrific.
Spike bursting back in the room caused her to jump and he shot her an apologetic look before setting up a makeshift bed comprised of several blankets and pillows on the floor. He gestured toward her light that was still on and the TV when he was all set and she nodded, shutting off the TV while he got the light. She watched him in the semi-dark lie down and get situated. She lay back, staring up at the ceiling for a long time. Cautiously, she sat up and peered over at him. He appeared asleep, but who knew? Deciding she didn’t care anymore, Buffy shimmied her way down to the edge of the bed, aligning her body on the bed to his on the floor. She stared down at him, feeling perhaps she was acting like a stalker, but again deciding she didn’t care.
He’d almost kissed her; she knew that. She’d wanted it too. If not because she was attracted to him, then because she invited the comfort. She felt as though she were bursting at the seams. She was trying so hard to keep herself strong and clear-headed, that eventually it caught up with her in these outbursts of emotion. She was conscious of the fact that she didn’t want to be the weepy deaf woman that everyone felt sorry for, even though she was feeling pretty sorry for herself at the moment.
Buffy didn’t want Spike to feel sorry for her though, didn’t want him to kiss her out of pity, though at that moment, she hadn’t cared if that’d been the case. She didn’t know why he stopped himself from following through: her powers of observation weren’t that great.
Yawning, she shut her eyes and finally, sleep claimed her.
As Buffy watched the scene before her unfold, watched the tall man all in black blow away her boyfriend and best friend, she felt a hand on her arm, tugging on her, trying to pull her away from the horrendous scene.
Her eyes snapped open and found Spike holding on to her arms, trying to jerk her awake. He turned the light on and told her, “You were having a nightmare.”
She could tell he was perplexed, concerned. “I have one or two every night. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
He shook his head. “Buffy, don’t be sorry for waking me. I’m a cop and I keep odd hours to begin with, and anyway, that’s not the point. Were you dreaming of…?”
“Parker and Gwen.”
“Every night, you say?”
“Yes, every night…Spike?”
“Yes, kitten?” Her heart fluttered, she sure liked it when he called her names like that, even if he didn’t mean them. But then his hand was pushing hair from her face in a thoroughly tender manner and she thought maybe he did mean to call her such endearments.
“You’ve been around people like me before, right? People who have seen something horrible?”
“I have. Seen a few of those horrible things myself.”
“When do the nightmares stop? How long until I don’t dream of it anymore?”
“I suppose until you’ve healed from it. It’s different for everyone, Buffy.”
“Is there something I can take? A pill or something?”
He was laughing, chuckling maybe; she thought maybe chuckling the way his shoulders barely moved, though his smile was just as wide. “No, luv. There’s nothing you can take. The most you can take is a sleeping pill to help you sleep, but those won’t stop the dreams.”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“No, not laughing at you. I just had to chuckle at how cute you are. If only there was a pill you could take. If there was, I’d be sure to give it you.”
She smiled and hugged him, “Thank you.”
He pulled back sooner than she was wanted to, and he looked at her imploringly, and quite nervously, “Do you want me to sleep in the bed with you? Would that help?”
Oh, yes, she thought, that’d be nice. But out loud she cleared her throat and said, “Only if you want to Spike. I don’t want you to feel you have to take care of me.”
“Buffy,” he said, and his demeanor changed to one of frustration. “Just tell me if you want me to sleep in your bed with you, dammit.”
“Yes,” she blurted. If he wanted her to speak plainly about it, then she would.
He nodded once, abruptly. “All right. Lie down. I just need to use the loo.”
She couldn’t help but giggle at that, albeit a nervous giggle that broke the tension. He smiled down at her, all frustration having dissipated.
“Something funny, kitten?”
“You. The ‘loo’.”
He grinned, “My apologies. The bathroom.”
She giggled again as he went to the “loo”. When he came back, she used it, and when she came back, she felt suddenly nervous and incredibly shy. The only man she’d had in her bed was Parker, and he wasn’t much of a cuddler. Something told her that Spike could possibly be a cuddler, despite his tough exterior. He was looking up at the ceiling, the covers up over his waist, one arm flung in the back of his head.
She gulped, thinking for the hundredth time in two days how lovely he was sculpted. Sheer perfection. Crawling into the bed, she smiled nervously. She started to roll so that her back was to him and he stopped her, by grabbing her arm. She looked at him, her heart hammering in her chest. Was he going to kiss her this time?
“Good night, Buffy.”
Nope, he wasn’t. “Good night.” And she rolled over as he shut the light out. He was sleeping with her to ease her mind and calm her nerves. He was sleeping with her to help her sleep, and all Buffy found herself was wide awake.