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She woke with a yawn and her eyes fluttered open slowly, her vision blocked with black material. The tiniest movement soon revealed it to be nothing more than Spike’s T-shirt though and she settled down for a few more moments of comfortable dozing without even really thinking about it. She returned her head to its position against his chest and his arm came round her again in his sleep.

After a few seconds though, a horrible smell started to seep through her senses, much as she tried to scrunch up her nose and ignore it. It smelled like… burning. In a flash, she was thrown aside as Spike cried out in pain, rolling off the couch and onto the floor, cradling his smoking arm.

“Arghh! Bloody hell!”

“Oh God, are you okay?”

He only just seemed to notice her and he forced his eyes to hers, grimacing in pain.

“M’okay.”

She slid to the floor beside him, kneeling and taking his injured arm gently in her hands.

“Would ice help?”

“Too cold,” he explained, teeth gritted with the pain, “Maybe just some cool cloth.”

She jumped to her feet and rushed out of the room, almost colliding with her mother.

“What’s going on?” Joyce asked worriedly, hurrying into the living room, “Spike? Are you okay?”

He looked up at her and forced a pained smile.

“Just a little sunburn,” he got out and her mother gasped.

“Buffy, get some cloths. Run them under-“

“Already going, Mom.”



She rushed back into the living room with the cloths and knelt down on the floor in front of Spike. He was back on the couch now, her mother having closed the curtains and blocking out the sun’s dangerous rays.

“What happened?” her mother asked worriedly, supervising as Buffy gently laid the cloth over his arm, wincing when he hissed in pain.

“Fell asleep down here,” he explained, his face contorted with pain.

“We were, uhh, talking,” Buffy added when she saw her mother’s eyes flash to her pyjamas.

Her mother sent her a strange look but then turned back to the vampire.

“Is it helping?”

“A little, yeah. Thanks.”

He shook his head and glanced behind him at the curtained window.

“Should have learnt better by now,” he commented with a wry smile.

“It was my fault,” Buffy spoke up, “I made you stay down here.”

“Nonsense,” he protested, “Stayed because I wanted to.”

They both seemed to remember her mother at the same moment and both sent her an embarrassed look.

“Didn’t want you to be alone,” Spike added, “After the night you had.”

“I know,” she added, avoiding her mother’s gaze as she replaced the cloth for a new one.
She didn’t know why they were making excuses for her mother but it just seemed… inappropriate somehow, the way they had been sleeping together. Next to each other, she corrected in her mind.



After the burns seemed to have lessened in pain, she went through to the kitchen with her mother to prepare some breakfast.

“How are you today, Buffy?” her mother asked quietly, going about preparing the food.

“I’m okay,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation, “I mean, yeah, I feel like my heart’s been ripped out and stomped on… but it’s not as bad as it was last night.”

Her mother smiled sympathetically and reached out to brush a hand over her hair.

“It’ll get easier.”

“I really hope so.”

Her mother smiled again and turned back to the breakfast.

“Spike has been wonderful all through this,” Joyce commented.

“I know,” she agreed, “I don’t know how I’m ever going to make it up to him. He seems to think we’re even now because I looked after him before… but somehow I think he had a harder job to do.”

She smiled wryly and her mother laughed.

“He’s just a kind-hearted soul,” her mother remarked, “I don’t think he likes seeing anyone in pain.”

“Well, right now he’s the one in pain,” Buffy said softly, “I’m going to go check on him.”

“Breakfast will be ready in about five minutes.”

“Great. Oh, can you do Spike’s blood as well?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Mom.”



Luckily, Spike’s burns didn’t seem all too bad and were already starting to heal up later that morning. Just to be safe though, he stayed further away from the windows than usual, not wanting to risk any additional burning. When he went for a nap later that afternoon, she decided to do the same, instead of sitting around by herself until her mother came home from work.

As soon as she lay down on the bed though, she realised she wasn’t that tired and so she lay staring at the ceiling, wondering how her life had got to this point. She could still remember her first meeting with Angel with perfect clarity, could remember their first kiss, the first time they – everything they had shared. And now, just like that, he wasn’t going to be part of her life anymore. He was gone – or as good as anyway.

She couldn’t sit around thinking about this or she was going to go mad and she threw herself off her bed, grabbing a magazine from her dresser and trying to distract herself. After a few minutes, it was obvious it wasn’t working and with a sigh, she threw the magazine down on her bed, running a hand over her face. She well remembered a time when her life had been easy: before she had been the Slayer, when the biggest worry she had was co-ordinating her accessories. Her life seemed to have been a lot less difficult before she knew vampires existed. But then, less interesting too, she couldn’t help but think.



She was drawn out of her thoughts by a knock at her door and she sat up straighter, a smile crossing her face as she sensed Spike on the other side.

“Hey! Come in,” she called out and sure enough, the vampire opened the door, smiling softly as he came in. He was still obviously sleepy and bed-tousled and she smiled.

“What’s up?”

“Actually, I’ve come to ask you a favour.”

“Oh?”

“Wouldn’t lend us a hand, would you?” he asked shyly, producing a small box from behind his back. It took her a few seconds to recognise what it was but when she did, she laughed: it was hair dye.

“I wondered how long you were going to leave it,” she commented.

“Slipped my mind,” he murmured awkwardly, shrugging as he ran one hand through his hair, “Don’t even want to know how bad it looks.”

“You’d be surprised,” she remarked with a smile, “Tips like that are all the rage right now.”

He raised an eyebrow and she laughed, pushing him out into the corridor and following him into the bathroom. She took the box of dye from him and skimmed over the instructions, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he stripped off his T-shirt and draped it over the edge of the bath. She turned to him, trying her hardest not to blush, and found him running a hand through his hair thoughtfully.

“What?” she asked, drawing his gaze to hers.

“S’getting long. Hasn’t been this long in years.”

“It’s fine, trust me,” she reassured him with a smile, “Now, let’s get you blonde again.”



Twenty-five minutes later, she was rinsing his hair over the bath, trying not to blush too much at the proximity of his bare chest. It’s not like she’d never seen a guy without a top before. He righted himself moments later and she smiled – he was back to his blonde self again. And knowing how good she always felt after the tiniest makeover, she knew his confidence would peak with the return to his normal look. He stood up and smoothed his hair back, flashing her a wide smile that confirmed her hunch.

“Looks good,” she commented and he gave her a smirk.

“Cheers.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile at seeing him so, well, himself. He tugged on his shirt again and smoothed back his hair again. He looked so like his old self now, minus of course the jacket. She smiled, watching him as he fiddled with his hair, stealing styling products aplenty in an attempt to tame his unruly curls.

“I don’t know why you bother,” she said, “The curls look good.”

He turned to her and actually growled, obviously not pleased with the idea.

“Make me look like a ponce.”

“If I knew what one of those was… I’d probably disagree,” she answered with a wide smile. She pushed herself to her feet and moved to stand in front of him.

“Let me.”

She ran her fingers through the front of his hair, smiling when he frowned at her.

“Just trust me, ‘kay?”

After a few moments of grooming, she pulled back and smiled proudly.

“There. Brilliant.”



He smiled and raised a hesitant hand to his hair.

“Have to take your word for it,” he murmured, nodding behind her, “Not like I can check.”

She glanced behind her, seeing only herself in the mirror, even though she could feel him so close to her. She found herself staring at the place where he should be, feeling his eyes on her.

“Do you ever hate not knowing what you look like?” she asked quietly.

“Me mum always used to say I was a handsome fellow. That’s good enough for me.”

She laughed and turned back to him.

“Did she ever tell you you aren’t at all modest?” she teased.

“Modesty is for lesser men,” he replied with a smirk, before turning serious, “Anyway, I had enough modesty for several men back then.”

“And you say you haven’t changed,” she remarked, shaking her head with a soft smile.

“Only for the good, of course,” he said, smirking once more.

She shook her head and laughed as they left the bathroom together.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand, “Let’s go make dinner for your mum.”

“You know, I think she’s going to start loving you more than she loves me,” she protested with a pout and he laughed, tugging on her hand and guiding her down the stairs.

“What can I say?” he retorted, “I’m just lovable.”





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