She turned her head and her hair fell back revealing the earring he'd given her. A warm surge of affection shot through him at the knowledge that she was wearing them. He hadn't seen her wear them since that afternoon with Dru. This was right. Buffy in his arms, wearing things he'd given her, sleeping peacefully. They had problems to work through, but this was right. Ever impulsive, a thought came to his mind and he acted on it.
Looking at the bedside clock, he saw it was early yet. She wouldn't wake for hours, not if he knew his Buffy. Dawn and their other employee had the weekend shifts at the gallery, so there was no need for her to get up. He kissed her hair and gently slid her onto the pillow next to him. She shifted position a little and settled back to deeper sleep.
He quickly scribbled a note and slipped out of the room. He had things to do.
Buffy woke late. She eyed the clock blearily. 'Noon.' she registered. 'Wow.' She shook off her dreamlike state and suddenly remembered the night before and sat up. 'He's gone.' She thought sadly. He didn't stay.
The note caught her eye and she unfolded it.
'Back soon, love. -Spike' was all it said.
Soothed, she stretched lazily and reached for her bathrobe. She felt surprisingly good. She expected it was from the catharsis of the night before. 'See, Buffy, talking is goooood.' She flicked at the mental voice with a cranky hand. 'Time for a shower.' She thought. She really wasn't a morning person.
An hour later, somewhat refreshed and caffeinated, she was sitting in the living room with a fresh mug of coffee when he arrived.
'He looks incredible,' she thought. His blue eyes were sober and held a hint of wariness, but his body was relaxed and she thought he looked at ease for the first time since they'd broken up.
"Hey," she said. "Where'd you get off to?"
"Had some stuff to take care of this morning, couldn't wait." He said, coming around the coffee table to sit next to her.
"Oh," she stared into her coffee. Silence fell and lingered.
"Well…this is harder in daylight isn't it?" She said softly, finally.
"A bit." He grimaced. "Be able to see how mad you are at me. That won't be fun."
"Not mad," she said quietly. "More sad than mad." He flinched. She turned to him. "Ok, I believe you about last night. I believe you that nothing happened. But something did before, right?"
"Yeah," he said, matching her tone, "yeah, it did." He looked away. "Wish it didn't, if that means anything."
She remained calm. "Why?" She asked simply.
He knew she wasn't asking why he wished it hadn't happened. He paused. "Because I was sad. Because I was lonely and angry. Didn't mean for anything to happen… it just did."
She was silent for a moment and then she said, almost too low for him to catch, "Because of what I said."
"Yeah, maybe." He ducked his head. "Because of what you said that day."
She put the mug down and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. "I'm sorry."
She held his chin for another moment longer before letting her hand drop and she asked somewhat shakily, "Do you think we can we get past this? Can we forgive each other and just go back to normal?" She held her head as though it ached. "Can that happen?"
"I can," he said. "I'm still mad at you, but I can't say what I'd do if I walked in and found you and your ex all naked and snuggled up comfy-like, so I can understand why you got so upset." He shook his head, "Can't understand why you refused to talk to me. I'd've been in there screaming, if it was me," he grinned at her and then continued, "if you can promise me you'll always at least give me the chance to say something in my own defense. Uninterrupted!" He clarified and shook a finger in her face teasingly. "I can. The real question is, can you?"
Everything ran through her head at once, leaving her thoughts jumbled and uncertain. "You must've liked her. That's not like you. You've never," she stopped. "You don't do things like that, at least that I know of."
"No, I don't."
"You like her then?" She asked again. "It was because it was her?" She resumed staring at her coffee mug on the table.
"Yeah, I like her. She's nice." He looked at his folded hands in his lap. "She was sympathetic."
"Right. Get to talk all about that bitch who left you, huh?" She said bitterly.
"Wasn't like that, Buffy."
"Would it…could it ever happen again?" She said. "If you were mad at me and-"
He took her hands gently. "No, Buffy. It couldn't." His so blue eyes stared intently into hers and she could see the honesty there. "Never."
She knew if they were to have anything, she'd have to truly forgive him and not let it fester in her mind, waiting for future arguments to resurface in anger.
She accepted the unspoken apology.
"What if we fight?" She looked seriously at him. "What if we mess it up again?"
His eyes twinkled and his mood shifted suddenly. "Ah, see that's why I have the Buffy management backup plan." He reached behind him and handed her a messily wrapped rectangular box that she hadn't noticed him carry in.
Buffy eyed the paper in amusement. "Wrapped it yourself, did you?" Bright, cheerful smiley faces peppered the blue paper, which was slightly mashed in places and suffered from an abundance of tape. Clear packing tape, to be exact. "At work, it seems." Her voice gained strength. "I'm so docking you for the entire roll that's on this box. How you can be such a perfectionist at some things and soooo not at others is beyond comprehension."
"Couldn't find the scotch tape," he defended himself. "Open the bloody box, Buffy."
She actually giggled at him and did her best to rip the thing apart, finally reaching the white box inside. She opened it. "It's…a jar?" It was a clear, deep blue glass jar, about a foot high and a few inches square with a lid wrapped separately in tissue.
"Pretty." Buffy said. "Thanks." She paused. "I don't get it." She looked questioningly at him.
He reached for it and turned it over in her hands. On the other side, in silver ink in Spike's surprisingly elegant script was written, 'Apologies'.
She burst out laughing. She carefully set it on the table and hugged him tightly. "It's wonderful. I love it. How long have you had this? "
"The thing itself?" He shrugged. "A little while. In its current form? This morning."
"You work fast." She looked at it again, sizing it up. "It may not be big enough, though."
He pouted at her. "Oi! I don't need to apologize that often! "
"How do you know I wasn't talking about me?" She grinned.
He raised his eyebrow at her. "See, I figure, it can live in your kitchen and when we're so mad we can't stand to look at each other and we can't swallow our pride and talk things out," He coughed meaningfully, "this'll come in handy."
"Yeah, it's good." Buffy kissed his neck. "It's good."