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He found her sitting on a small boulder, the snow brushed off by her bare hands.

Spike couldn't see much in the darkness, and the majority of his traveling had been done by touching, reaching out to make sure he wasn't going to walk directly into a tree. Now he saw Buffy, slouching on that rock and frantically calling out Tabitha's name while making clicking noises with her tongue in between.

With how long it took him to find her, her fingers were probably blue with cold.

"Buffy."

"Spike?" She turned and stood up, running to him as if it were the most natural thing. "I can't find her anywhere. I think I should go back to the house and get a flashlight, but I'm afraid I'll miss her if I leave-"

"Hush, love. We'll find her."

"But I can't see in the dark and-"

"Moonlight's enough." Spike indicated the full vision above them, rising over the only cloud in the sky. Unveiled beams allowed him to make out the worry on her face. "She couldn't have gone far."

Buffy scoffed sadly. "You don't know cats."

That was true, but he refused to upset her more by agreeing. "Know they're smart. The sun's set, it'll get colder and she'll wonder why she left the comforts of home."

Buffy said nothing, muffling hopeful words in favor of continuing the search. She stepped back and turned, heading blindly through the darkness, making those clicking sounds again as she beckoned: "Here kitty, kitty, kitty..."

"Has she gotten out before?" he asked quietly. A hush seemed to settle around them, as cool and fragile as icicles.

"Yes, but I've always caught her before she made it to the woods." A distant howl of a coyote rattled their nerves. Buffy stopped. "Spike, it's cold and she's fast but what if-"

"Not going to happen."

"How do you-"

"I know." He brushed her arm on instinct, urging her to face him. "Trust me."

Frozen in time there, he stared at her with will to share. After a solid minute, she nodded. An audible swallow shivered down her throat. "Joe- Is he-?"

"Sent him packing. He won't be botherin' you again."

Buffy paused. "Thank you," was all she said, and he felt in his gut the other questions that would need to be addressed later on. Tabitha was the pressing matter right now.

There was no sensible response to Buffy's gratitude anyhow. His silence indicated what she already knew. He would never sit aside and watch someone hurt her. Threaten Buffy, and you may as well be going after his heart. Spike wouldn't stand for it, and she knew that.

They walked in silence for several minutes, heads twisting back and forth like inquisitive owls, searching shadows. A thin, solid boulder taller than any person seemed to come out of nowhere and Spike hauled Buffy to the left, preventing collision.

"Thanks," she said with a sigh, "again." Squinting at an evergreen bush over her shoulder, combing with her eyes to try and spot a tail, the giant rock had gone unnoticed.

"Don't mention it." He let her go, a reluctant slide of cold fingers from the surface of colder T-shirt sleeves. Spike frowned. He studied her as they went on. Two shadows amongst shadows. Steps quiet, bodies trembling. White puffs of smoke accounted for Buffy's breath.

The lady heard a swishing noise behind her and turned quickly. Spike had taken off his coat. "What-"

"Here." He handed it to her, a gift, a need. "Wear it. You're shiverin'."

"Spike, I'm not going to take your coat." As she spoke, her teeth were chattering. She stepped back.

"Why not?" he braved.

"Because it's not..." A memory returned to her, the night he saved her from yet another angry man, the one she had sought out, chased down with indignation zinging through her veins. Buffy drove home wearing Spike's coat without realizing what she'd done until it was too late, until the mark had been made. "It's not fair."

"Never cared much 'bout bein' fair." She didn't move when he came closer. Leather hung from his large pale hand in offering. "Put it on, or we're going to have ourselves an argument."

There was a brave ultimatum, coming from him anyway. Buffy ran anxious fingers through her hair.

There was no time for this, not the emotions wrangling for control of her body or the debate over a self sacrificing kindness. "I think I should go back to the house, get a can of food or tuna or something. I can grab a jacket then-"

"Might get a few more animals followin' us with the smell."

"Well I don't know what to do!" she exploded. Spike didn't flinch. Undaunted, as if he'd been expecting the outburst. "I can barely see and I don't know where she is or how far she's gone! She's not an outdoor cat and it's freezing! If she won't come to me when I'm calling then how else am I supposed to find her?!"

"We'll find her," he promised resolutely. "We'll set traps if we have to."

"Traps?" Buffy's glassy eyes widened like those of a hunted animal. "What if she gets caught in a-"

"Bloody hell, she won't!"

"But-"

Suddenly, a heart stopping sound caught their attention. Spike froze while Buffy shushed him unnecessarily. It grew more pronounced, more frustrated. High pitched.

"Where's it coming from?" she whispered, as quiet as the wind.

Spike shut his eyes. He nodded to their left. Quickly dropping his coat over her shoulders, he prowled ahead.

Too distracted to argue, Buffy sighed before sticking her arms through the long sleeves. She hastily followed him. Eventually, they got close enough to recognize the noise; kittenish meowing. It was painfully familiar, and morosely distressed.

"Tabitha!" Buffy rushed past Spike with alacrity; he had to shush her then. They maneuvered around piles of snow and dead leaves. Frozen debris cracked beneath their hurried steps. The meowing led them further into the forest, where trees grew closer together, thick wooden arms interwoven without choice.

Moonlight sifted through the overhead branches, creating a slanted, sticklike shadow path across the ground. The further their journey, the louder Tabitha's protests. Buffy's blood was beginning to pulse again, adrenaline providing much needed heat. She wiggled and slid past thick trunks of evergreens, between rocks and low hung branches threatening to scratch her cheeks. Spike followed without so much as a single complaint.

The man was quick. Before either of them knew it, they were at a clearing. It was small and surrounded by mountainous pines with needles so lush the moonlight dimmed to nothing more than gray candlelight. Buffy blinked until her eyes adjusted.

Tabitha let out another irritated meow, not five feet away.

The feline had somehow managed to get herself caught in a tree.

"Oh, thank God."

"Someone call the fire department," Spike smirked, following her to the edge of the bark. A new lightness filled his voice. "There's a kitten up a tree."

Buffy glared over her shoulder. "You've got to be kidding."

"'Course," he smiled. Relief made her eyes shine, even in this blackness. "C'mon, I'll give you a boost."

Buffy stared at him dumbly as Spike squatted in the snow, cupping his hands beside her knees. "A boost?"

"You're going to need it," he claimed. "Not exactly on the tall side, either of us, but you're-"

"All right, all right," Buffy sighed, stepping into his hands delicately, lifting the hem of his duster out of the way. She apologized while bracing herself against the trunk.

"You're 'bout as heavy as a wafer, pet." He snickered when she huffed in mild protest. "Can you reach her?"

Stretching as far as she could, Buffy balanced on tiptoes in the palm of his hand. Where Tabitha was perched, the most one could grasp was her swishing tail. "No," she groaned. "Stupid cat- Why don't you just come down?! You got up there, didn't you?"

Tabitha meowed in objection, clearly offended.

Buffy hopped to the ground and Spike stood again. "We chase you all over the place and now that you need rescuing from your little adventure you're too afraid to jump?! Typical. If you were so scared of heights, why'd you climb up there in the first place..."

Spike thoughtfully measured the structure of the towering pine while Buffy argued with the tabby. He looked his girl up and down, then got on his knees again. It took clearing his throat to rouse her attention.

"What are you doing?"

"Get on my shoulders."

"What?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "You'll be tall enough and get better leverage that way."

She paused, blinking unsurely. "Oh." Buffy frowned. She was set on agreeing after weighing the odds; but she took a good few moments too long about it. Spike sighed and grabbed her knees, hauling her close before sticking his head between her legs.

He said, "Hang on," and stood tall. She gasped and clutched his head, fingers digging into his skull and skin. Spike succumbed to irritation and glee all at once; her feminine frame was above him, around him, his hands caressing jean dressed thighs. His beloved coat protected her body while covering half his own.

The man swallowed. "Can you reach her now?"

"I don't know. I think-" Buffy found her balance and let out a shaky breath. She leaned forward, chilly thighs clenching around his ears, and he could just feel his heart giving out. Spike shut his eyes. Seeing what she did at this angle was near impossible anyway.

All of a sudden, there was a series of terrified mews and one human's gasp of pain.

"Ouch!"

"You okay, love?"

"Yeah, she's just kind of claw-y," Buffy whispered. "Hang on, I almost- Got her!"

Spike felt a smile burgeoning and let it win. He noted the slight extra weight on his spine and neck before lowering both females to the ground.

Bending his entire torso over so she could climb off easily, Spike stood quickly once the weight came away. In Buffy's arms he found a very still, very chilly little cat who looked a bit too contrite for her species' reputation.

He watched as Buffy wrapped her in his leather coat and held on tight. "C'mon, let's get back before she gives me anymore trouble."

Spike led the way, listening absently to the sounds of an early winter's night and his girl's contented, if a bit strung out, admonishments to one adventurous cat. If Tabitha were human, he could only imagine the punishment Buffy might have in store.

But she wasn't human, she was a pet. A very beloved pet. Buffy caved after a couple minutes and spent the remainder of their journey cuddling and kissing her. It was made clear to the animal, even one who didn't speak, that she was wanted and adored.

Spike supposed that was good. Animals, like some people he thought, learned best from displays of kindness, not reprimand. Unless the deed was severe enough to reward punishment. Running away from home was one of those things less likely to happen again if the runner found they had a reason to stay.

Tabitha knew she had a nice home, though. The feline had merely grown adventurous, brave and stupid enough to bolt out of the house in the middle of winter. Little bugger.

Spike glanced at the two snuggling inside his coat, and despite the January wind dancing across his arms and throat, he warmed. Tabitha caused mayhem on top of mayhem today, but seeing the happiness on Buffy's face now was almost worth it. If not for her earlier upset and the encounter with Gregory, it would be.

Spike didn't know how long Joe had been around before he showed up, but he didn't think her grief had a lot to do with the bastard. If Joe did anything worse than what Spike had seen, Buffy wasn't saying.

But if it was the last thing he accomplished, he would learn the entire story behind that visit.

Squinting, Spike nodded and walked a little faster. He saw a distant glow peering between the trees. They weren't far now.

***

They were in the kitchen again. Her kitchen. Cozy corners and warm light, a sofa he knew all too well, and scents that shouldn't remind him so much of home. The image of Buffy cooing over her pet while Tabitha drank delicately from a water bowl was framed by the same rosy color tingeing his girl's cheeks and nose. They had only just walked in a few minutes ago, shivering, shaking snow off their boots.

A moment passed where Spike felt belted to the doorway. He had been so unsure of his place, acknowledging a barrier too sturdy to break between himself and the hallway.

Buffy walked in first, pausing with her precious tabby wrapped in leather to say, "Come in and shut the door, quick."

She didn't want Tabitha to run again, but she could have left the first part out. She could have handed him his coat and told him to leave. She hadn't. Buffy offered an invitation instead.

Spike stepped through that front door, half convinced he must be dreaming.

Only his dreams were seldom so kind. The following minutes were drenched in quiet surrealism. She hung his duster, and pulled out a chair for him. Refilled Tabitha's water bowl and lovingly stroked her cold fur until purring erupted, so loud it could be heard clear across the room.

A cat happy to be home, happy to be returned to the lady who loved her. Spike felt the same.

Of course, he still wasn't sure about that. About being welcomed back with a banner and balloons. He wasn't so naive. Buffy needed help tonight, accepted his in wake of losing Tabitha, and opened her house to him in gratitude. It didn't mean anything else.

Spike's heart argued otherwise, of course. Bloody hopeless organ.

It couldn't see much past the fact Buffy trusted him enough to let him near her again, more and longer than a short drive in an old car. Now, he was in her house, breathless, and stubbornly waiting for a chance to ask about the altercation between her and Joe Gregory.

His heart tightened up again, filling with rage both remembered and current. Spike forced himself to temper the warmth spilling through his veins like molten gold and refocused. "Can I ask you a question?"

Buffy offered a thimble of attention. "Sure," she said, but barely glanced at him. The woman sat on the countertop, peering over the edge at Tabitha.

"What was Joe doin' here?"

Buffy faced Spike entirely. "Oh, that. Sorry. I sort've forgot about him."

"You had other things on your mind."

She smiled gratefully, and it made his breath catch. "He wanted me to get his brother back into school."

*So the prat wasn't lying.* Spike supposed he could believe it. Only that didn't excuse the bastard even a margin for his conduct. "He said somethin' like that."

"He told you?"

"Nothin' more." Spike studied her carefully for what must have been the fiftieth time tonight. She seemed comfortable now, unhurt, unfazed. While the girl climbed his shoulders outside she hadn't displayed so much as a twinge. Buffy appeared, thankfully, completely unbroken.

Spike still wanted more than anything to be certain, to confirm through touch there was no lasting damage, to kiss her and remind himself that she still breathed. That she hadn't been harmed before he could get to her.

He swallowed thickly, distracting himself with his own voice. "Doesn't matter now. He won't be botherin' you again."

Buffy looked away from that steely conviction. Blue eyes were hard and sure, and she wondered in what state Joe Gregory had left her property. It didn't bother her, she just wondered. "Thank you, for that. It gave me the chance to follow Tabitha."

"Already said it, but you know you don't need to," he murmured, then hurried ahead before she could protest. "Trust the pillock didn't hurt you?"

She sensed vulnerability in that question, like he'd been meaning to ask it for years, and quickly shook her head. "No. Just yelled a lot. Only time he touched me was after you showed up."

"M'sorry I didn't get here sooner."

She wanted to say he shouldn't be, but was distracted by a more pressing need for answers. "Why were you here? Not that I'm not grateful, but I wasn't expecting you, then suddenly there you are, driving up all superman style."

Spike tensed immediately, then relaxed upon realizing her eyes were clear. There was no accusation to be found. She had seen his car, and knew had he been around for Joe's arrival Spike never would have waited to take action. That, thankfully, kept her certain of the fact he hadn't been spying. Hadn't been watching her.

Abruptly, Spike remembered what box sat absorbing the chill in his car. Relief evaporated into steamy dismay. "I was comin' by to drop your things off. The stuff from your office."

Buffy's body grew stiff, her voice dropping with her eyes. "I didn't know you were doing that today."

"I was going to leave it on your porch," he explained hastily. "In front of the door. Figured you'd still be at the shop for a little while yet."

He had wanted to avoid her again; and likely for her sake, again. Buffy crossed her arms and held her elbows. "You could have called me. Came over when you knew I was home."

*Could I have?* he wanted to ask, but chained the thought down. He wasn't so sure Buffy knew how close she'd allow him to get. He had no fucking idea, truthfully, and when Spike considered the last few days he still wasn't sure. So he decided to play it safe. Always hoping, but not knocking on any doors.

If she welcomed him in, she would have to be sure. She would have to tell him.

But she didn't. Not really, and Spike felt reality climbing his back with a pair of talons. "Got your things in the car." He stood. "I'll grab 'em now."

Buffy opened her mouth, then stopped herself from saying a word. Her lips fell shut. She nodded. "Thanks."

Spike tried for a grin and left the room.

Quiet descended, as heavy as an anvil. She heard nothing more than Tabitha's contented purring, which made her smile, but it lasted for less than a moment.

Buffy looked at her bare feet, at the feline on the floor. She had just taken her boots off. Spike would likely return before she could lace them up again. There wasn't a whole lot she'd left behind at the school anyway. Otherwise, she would have offered to help.

Spike hadn't known that, though, when he took on the responsibility of cleaning out her office. All he knew was that she didn't want to go back there; so he did it for her. Then today... with Joe...

Buffy sighed lightly. It seemed he was always helping her, saving her. Only this time, she had to admit, she felt she could have handled things herself. With Joe anyway. He wasn't Michael; he might be an asshole, but he wasn't Michael. She wasn't afraid of him anymore.

Funny, that. She felt she wasn't afraid of a lot of things now.

Spike knocked on her front door. Buffy frowned. She hopped off the counter and rushed from the kitchen.

When she cleared the entryway, he was only using one arm to hoist a box at his hip. He could have let himself in.

"You could have just come in," she said gently.

"Most everything fit in here." Spike set the box on the nearby table, ignoring her statement entirely.

"Most of it?"

"There's one other thing." He gave her an unreadable look and returned to the front porch. She glanced quickly over her shoulder to make sure Tabitha was still eating, then frowned when she caught Spike kneeling by the door.

Her expression cleared when she saw him rise with Penny's flowers, but his did not. "Oh, I completely forgot about these!" She reached for the vase. "Ugh, I'm a terrible plant parent."

She walked further inside as he closed the door, following unbidden, uncertain. Buffy set the flowers beside the cardboard box, acknowledging their low water level. She said, "I didn't want to bring them home because lilies are poisonous to cats and Tabitha will eat anything, but now that I won't be at the school anymore..."

He listened with an aching heart. She hadn't brought the arrangement home because of the cat. Not because she didn't care about it, not because the flowers weren't important, but because they posed a danger to Tabitha. Any other reason might fit neatly beside forgetfulness. She hadn't thought about them, likely, since the incident; but that didn't mean she didn't want them.

Spike swallowed. He was convinced more than ever they had to be from someone special. A man, maybe. Someone Buffy was dating? A cold thought slithered in, whispering about first loves and old boyfriends.

"I should get going."

She paused in her floral examination. "You should?" The lady stopped again, shaking her head and smiling nervously as if she were confused by her own question. "I mean, of course you should. You've probably got stuff to... to take care of."

"Got a shift at the graveyard," he quietly explained.

"You're still doing that?"

"'Course."

Buffy brought her hands together, clasped tightly in front of her. "Sorry. Didn't mean it the way it sounded. I just wasn't sure. What with the new job and all. I thought you might be too busy."

Spike swallowed again. He yearned for a cigarette, and would definitely be lighting up on the way to work. "Been thinkin' 'bout it," he admitted. "But I haven't gotten 'round to resigning. Been waiting to see if the new boss would keep me on."

She looked down briefly. "Jack said something like that, when he told me about your fight with Joe- The other one. You got picked over him, huh?"

Spike nodded.

"Congratulations." Buffy wondered why her voice sounded hollow.

"Thanks." He pursed his lips together in an effort to smile. Strolling for the door, head down, his footsteps were long and hurried.

Buffy tried to let him go, nibbling her bottom lip before doggedly uncovering a reason to speak up. "Um, Spike?" He paused, turned around, hand on the doorknob. "Do you think you could do me a favor? Well, another one."

He blinked, waited.

"Promise me you're not going to tell Al what happened. I don't need any more stress right now and like you said, I don't think Joe will bother me again." She held her breath. There was legitimacy behind her request. If Al found out about today he would also try and find a way to arrest Joe, despite the fact she didn't have the energy to press charges. She wasn't hurt. Joe was a bully but his actions, this time, had been for his brother. One could almost call such motivation unselfish. Almost.

Spike didn't say anything at first. He wouldn't tell her he had already considered contacting the sheriff. It might benefit Buffy's safety if Al was able to do something about Gregory's loose cannon levels of brain function. Perhaps he'd just lock the bastard up, but on what grounds Spike didn't know. Buffy wouldn't bother pressing charges, and there was always the chance such a plan could backfire.

Being arrested might just shake the beast loose.

The risk wasn't worth it. Joe could always come back, ignore a restraining order. Spike would rather deal with the fucker himself. Which, he believed he had. Gregory was scared witless when he stumbled off, and now fully aware that Buffy meant something to Spike; it might actually keep Joe away instead of coax the bastard to her door.

So Spike could do his girl this favor, and he would. "Won't say anything to Al."

She exhaled. "Thank you."

"But," he added, thinking again, "if he so much as calls you, I want to know."

"I don't think that's-"

"Otherwise," he met her eyes straight on, "we don't have a deal."

"Seriously?" She arched her brows. "I know you're worried, all right? I get it."

"I don't think you do."

"What are you going to do if he does call? Hunt him down and beat him into a coma for picking up the telephone?"

"If he's around," Spike grit out. At catching her look, he added, "I want to know if he's tryin' to reach you."

Buffy sighed exasperatedly, tempted to cave, but something held her up. Perhaps it was a lack of information. A need not to accept this willingness Spike kept to protect her, to watch over her without violating her privacy. Maybe, just maybe, she felt they weren't in the position to offer each other such privileged intimacies.

It wasn't fear holding her tongue, but a sense of responsibility and respect. "Joe isn't your problem. If he comes around again-"

"I won't know about it unless you tell me," Spike reiterated the point. "I can't keep an eye on him for-bloody-ever, and if he managed to sneak over here between me and Al lookin' out, there's still a chance-"

"You've been 'keeping an eye' on Joe?" she cut in, clearly bewildered. "What does that mean?"

His mouth snapped shut.

All the oxygen left her body in one breath as realization took its place. "Why?"

Spike's jaw muscles twitched and tensed. *I take care of my own,* he thought. "Because after last week I was afraid the git might try and rebuild his broken pride."

Buffy's heart jumped.

"When I saw him here I thought-"

"You thought he was trying to get back at you." Understanding hit her like a fallen oak. The vibrations rocked her further off balance. Her frown melted into something softer, less filled with accusation and uncertainty. Now all she saw, all she felt, were emotions too warm and dangerous to put names to.

Spike didn't sense a thing. What he noticed were intense questions fading to mist in her eyes. If she considered this admission a sign he would start watching her again, hurt her again, she was sorely mistaken.

Buffy's arms were slack at her sides. She didn't speak when he turned away, letting himself out. Until he was about to shut the door, his boots already on the salted porch. "I'll tell you."

Spike froze.

"If he calls... I'll let you know."

He sighed. "Preferably after the sheriff, right?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Good... Thanks."

That was that, and Spike left. Breathing hefty sighs of cold smoke, he battled willful emotions in his heart, a cacophony of different hopes and dismays. The wind's abrasive slaps made his skin tingle, cheeks, fingers and throat as he rushed down the front steps. He inhaled fast and stubbornly, letting the cold burn. It grew worse when he passed Buffy's Jeep on way to his own car.

Larry had fixed her tires, and the vehicle looked almost shiny new from this vantage point. Spike didn't examine it further. It was dark, bitter out, and his heart was kicking up like a stallion on the run.

He jumped in his DeSoto and floored it. Desire to leave her had never been present until this moment, and that was due to a number of things his mind and heart just wouldn't let lie. He didn't want to think about her fears being revived, or whether or not he'd find Joe's truck parked outside the Gregory residence on way to the cemetery, and especially not the flowers currently soaking up the warmth of Buffy's home and touch.

But Spike wasn't used to getting what he wanted, and these new circumstances allowed for very few changes.

***

Buffy stood in her front hallway forever after he left. Questions rang like a symphony of bells and whistles. The events of this hectic day flickered behind her eyes as quickly as horses on a carousel.

One would think all anticipated tension could have been broken while hunting down a runaway feline together, tossed to the wind like so much useless feeling. But then they returned to the house, and everything backpedaled.

Her altercation with Joe shouldn't have been a source of blame, a fear mongering situation that swayed back into the frame long after it was over. Spike seemed so angry, though, and she understood that. She was angry, too, only his anger proved much more resolute.

If it appeared entirely reserved for Joe Gregory then she wouldn't be so confused. Except the way Spike looked at her, spoke to her, just before leaving was different from their earlier conversations. She would have thought him happy when she... let him inside, shown him things had changed. It was supposed to be an offer of reassurance, the same size and shape as a welcome mat.

Perhaps he confused the signs with gratitude. It was also true. She was thankful beyond belief Spike had been there when Tabitha made a run for it. Buffy didn't think she could have caught the animal without his help, and she certainly wouldn't have been able to reach that tree branch without a boost.

Maybe she needed to be clearer. Buffy wasn't sure. She was lost in a sea of indecision. Every time Spike showed respectful, entirely heartfelt displays of feeling for her now, she froze up inside. Not literally, of course, but her warming heart refused to touch on the deeper meanings behind her own reevaluations. Conscious actions meant something to her, and she thought they would mean something to him.

Unfortunately, she didn't seem to be doing a very good job of getting her meaning across.

A sigh escaped her lips. How could she expect him to read her when she didn't even know the story herself? Was she ready to let him in again? Buffy didn't know for certain. Was she willing to trust her recent judgment, her gut, and tell him she wanted to try for... something? If not what they'd had before, then maybe something else? Maybe something better?

Something stronger?

She shook her head, turning around. Her arms crossed protectively over her abdomen and she saw the flowers from Penny on the table. Buffy bypassed her boxed up office, reaching for a lily. She stroked the petal dejectedly. They had to go, for Tabitha's sake.

Buffy underwent the task of pulling stems, sniffing one cupped bloom as she ridded the arrangement of toxic flora. The baby's breath ought to go, too, now that she thought about it. Her roses were a little wilted, but not bad. Maybe she should have just asked Spike if he wanted to take them home-

Buffy stopped. A white sprig fell limp in her hand.

What must he have thought? A bouquet of flowers on her desk. Surely he hadn't seen them before today. Jack knew who they were from, but that didn't mean Spike was aware.

But that would be unlikely, wouldn't it? He had to know. Jack must have mentioned them. If he'd thought to ask where she got them, worried Spike might see the arrangement and wonder, then certainly...

Buffy sighed unhappily. Oh, the boy was slacking. Spike found the flowers without any explanation. His behavior made all the sense in the world now. He must have thought she received them from someone else, anyone besides a student. A man, most likely.

Her frown grew heavier as she inhaled the sweet scent of everlasting roses. Penny simply chose the prettiest arrangement in her budget, but anyone who was old enough might guess the colors alone signified a romantic gesture.

Spike must believe she was dating someone. Which wasn't true; she'd been too busy nursing a broken heart to do that.

Buffy closed her eyes and yanked out the rest of the lilies and white sprigs. She carried her fistful to the garbage. If only he had asked, she would have told him.

Another thought occurred, one slightly less disappointing, but exceptionally more startling.

If Spike had truly thought the flowers were from another man, why hadn't he tossed them? He could have claimed they were dried up and dead, she wouldn't have questioned him. He might have said he didn't see any flowers, and she could have drawn a hundred conclusions. Maybe Clem cleaned up her office and threw them away. Maybe Robin knocked the vase over by accident. Maybe Roger was a flower thief.

Anything. Anything at all, and Spike could have easily gotten away with withholding another man's gift.

Buffy wondered now if he had actually thought about that. Almost anyone, if jealousy was there to be roused, would have left the flowers behind. Spike had not.

He might have planned to let them freeze if he'd had the opportunity to leave everything on her front porch. But even if she hadn't abandoned work early, Buffy would have returned home in plenty of time to save the flowers. Besides, Spike was a fairly typical male when it came to everyday girly knowledge; he probably never even considered the low temperatures, or hadn't gotten the chance to.

Maybe he assumed they were a going away gift from Robin, but Spike knew how the principal felt about her leaving. She told him. An assumption based on the possibility of a grateful student was fair, but still unlikely. Penny was closer to Buffy than most, and so it made sense, but Spike wouldn't necessarily consider her.

The woman scowled briefly at the garbage can. She hadn't moved for a minute or two and Tabitha was winding around her ankles, meowing anxiously, trying to get her attention.

Buffy scooped the cat up and set her on the kitchen counter, scratching under her chin. Maybe Spike wasn't jealous. Maybe he returned the flowers because he didn't care whether she was moving on or not.

Which would mean he didn't have feelings for her. Not the kind she thought. Maybe Buffy made a mistake in reevaluating how much he claimed to care, what she denounced before as pure obsession. Or maybe he was letting go, and merely felt... some kind of stalker's remorse for everything that had happened. Maybe that was why he was being so nice.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. She remembered Christmas Eve, the issued warning about Joe, and everything they said to each other only yesterday in his car. No. Spike cared. He lo-... He still had feelings. She couldn't possibly be that delusional.

Could she?

Buffy groaned. Rubbing her forehead, she thought harder. Eventually, a new possibility rose its hand. Sidled somewhere between misty hope and incredulity, sat the prospect he just wanted to be honest. Maybe Spike knew throwing her flowers away wouldn't be his place, that it would be a breach of trust. He was respecting her choices, her privacy, her...

Buffy blinked away a gathering of unshed emotion. That was it. That must be it. His behavior... He needed to leave right after handing her the vase. He seemed distant from the moment he said her things were still in the car. When he came back, he knocked instead of letting himself in, another sign of respect for her boundaries. Another implication he didn't want to do anything that might scare, offend, or hurt her.

"Oh my God."

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