Summary: A Christmas story, but not really fluffy.
Author's Notes: This is sort of my revenge for Wesley's death. While I have to admit to being relieved since he is (apparently) beyond Joss's ability to torture, I still wasn't entirely happy with the way his character was treated the last couple seasons. So, if Joss gets to kill my Wesley, I get to kill everyone else. (Joss was half-there already.)
Rating: PG-13
Spike felt fingers running through his hair, and he couldn't quite figure it out. He was comfortable and warm and he really didn't want to move lest it turn out to be a dream. "I know you're awake."
His eyes blinked open, and Spike saw Buffy smiling down at him. "Buffy?"
"That would be me. How are you?"
It took him a moment to process that question. No one had asked him how he was in so long, he'd forgotten the correct response. "Good." Spike let that sink in for a moment before smiling at her. "I'm good," he repeated, this time with more conviction.
"I'm glad," Buffy replied. She'd been awake for a while, but hadn't wanted to leave him. It was enough just to watch Spike sleep, his head resting trustingly on her shoulder. Whatever leftover anger she might have felt was eclipsed by thankfulness that he was alive. Literally alive.
Some of the pleasure left Spike's eyes as he remembered why he was in London with her in the first place. "I should—"
"What, Spike?" Buffy asked, tightening her grip as she felt the tension in him. "What's wrong?"
"I shouldn't be here."
"Because of Angel?" she sounded incredulous, as well she might. It wasn't precisely the reunion she'd been hoping for. If she'd thought to hope at all.
"Buffy—"
"Because if you're feeling survivor's guilt, we all have it, Spike." She kept a hand on his arm, unwilling to let him go. Buffy was half-afraid that he'd disappear if she let him out of her sight. "Anya didn't make it through the final battle either. Xander could hardly stand it, so he went to Africa. I went to Rome because I needed to forget for a while that you sacrificed yourself for me, and to forget all those Slayers who didn't make it out."
When Spike looked away, Buffy gave him a little shake. "Did you really think you could walk back into my life, drop this news, and then walk out again?"
"Buffy—"
"Well?"
"Would you bloody well let me answer?" Spike demanded, pulling away from her and getting out of bed. "Dammit, Slayer! What the hell else am I supposed to do?"
"Stay, you idiot! You died, and now you're back, and you're just going to leave again?" She stared at him, anger flushing her cheeks.
Spike spun away, suddenly furious, wanting nothing more than to grab his things and run out of the house, away from all of this. Was it worth it to stay? He'd believed it was once, but now he wasn't so sure. It had all spiraled out of his control so quickly. "Why should I stay, Buffy? Other than I just got back here. Give me one good reason."
Buffy knew that there were only three words that could keep him there with her, even though she hated having to repeat herself. "Because what I said to you in the Hellmouth was the absolute truth."
There was no movement. Time itself might have stopped for all Spike knew. "Slayer—"
"I know you didn't believe me," Buffy said stolidly. "Hell, you don't really have a reason to believe me right now. But at least stay for Christmas, Spike. No one should be alone for the holidays, and people here know you. Most of us even like you."
He actually laughed a little bit at that, his shoulders slumping. "Through Christmas then, pet."
"And New Years," Buffy said, suddenly anxious to negotiate for more time.
Spike turned back to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "An' if I say yes, you'll just point out that your birthday's just after the New Year an' I should stay for that too."
Buffy shook her head. "My birthdays are always disastrous. I'd never ask you to stay for that."
"Through New Years," Spike agreed, thinking it might be nice to stay in one place for a while. "After that, we'll see."
The Slayer smiled a little. Spike might not be certain, but Buffy had plans enough for the both of them.
~~~~
The first stage in her plans included checking up on Dawn and holding a quick, whispered conversation. The Summers sisters hadn't connected on much for a very long while, but there was one thing that they could agree on right now, and that was Spike. Joyce had passed along her maternal instinct to both girls, and it was now focused solely on Spike.
Who, if he'd known, probably would have run the other direction.
"Are you going to be nice?" Dawn asked.
Buffy glared at her sister. "Of course I'm going to be nice. Why wouldn't I be nice?"
"Because he didn't tell you he was back," Dawn replied, sounding superior, as though she knew the drill better than Buffy. "I mean, if you're angry at him—"
"I'm not angry at him," the Slayer replied, then huffed. "Well, maybe a little, but I get it. It's not like he..." She trailed off, paused. "Besides, I think he's a little fragile right now. When he's back to normal, then I'll kick his ass."
Dawn smiled. That was definitely more like the Buffy she knew. "Where is Spike?"
"Taking a shower. When he comes down, I want you to keep him busy and make sure he eats," Buffy directed. "I need to talk to Giles."
The younger Summers smiled. "You're going to have it out with him?"
"Something like that," Buffy replied grimly. "I can't believe he didn't know Spike was back."
"Buffy?" Dawn called as her sister started to walk away. "Spike is kind of short on clothes, you know."
The Slayer's answering smile was nothing short of smug. "I know. We're going to go shopping."
Giles was in his study, where Buffy thought he might be. She stood in the doorway watching him for a long moment, trying to figure out what she wanted to say, hating that they had to have this conversation again.
It had taken nearly a year to even make overtures of reconciliation. Ever since her Watcher had conspired with Wood to kill Spike, there had been a distance between them. Giles' betrayal over the Cruciamentum hadn't hurt quite as badly as his attempted murder on Spike had, and being kicked out of her own house shortly afterwards hadn't helped matters any.
After a year, when the pain of having lost Spike was fading a bit, Buffy had managed to call Giles just to chat. One phone call had led to another and another, until she'd finally made the decision to come to England and work with the Council more intensively. Buffy had been feeling the need to be useful again, having discovered that all play and no work made the Slayer very bored.
Eighteen months of playing had caused her to lose sight of a lot of things though: friends, family, responsibility. Buffy hadn't a clue as to how to reconnect with Dawn. Her friends were easier; they had all drifted apart before. Like a lot of good friendships, it was easy to reconnect.
This responsibility thing with Giles though—this was different.
"Good morning, Buffy." Her Watcher turned in his chair, startling her out of her thoughts. "I trust you slept well."
"Yeah, I did, thanks," she replied.
"And Spike?"
"Like a baby," Buffy said, tacitly acknowledging that they'd shared a bed.
Giles made a "hmm-ing" sound and nodded. "He spoke to you about Angel."
"Yeah, he told me what happened." Giles felt the change. It was suddenly the Slayer looking at him—not Buffy. The Slayer at her strongest, as she'd been leading the charge on Adam and on the Mayor. This was the Slayer General. The sight made him quite nostalgic, even though Giles had a feeling he wasn't going to find this confrontation comfortable. "You knew Spike was back."
It was a statement, not a question, and he nodded. "I did. Andrew told me."
"What I can't understand is why you didn't tell me," Buffy said flatly. "I mourned him, Giles."
There was both pain and anger in Buffy's voice, and it made his heart ache. At the time, Giles had been convinced that Angel had gone evil, that if Spike was with the other vampire, it could mean nothing good. "I know. I'm sorry, Buffy. I believed I was doing what was best."
"Best for who?" she demanded. "Me? Spike? You? I'm so tired of people determining what's best. If someone had told me Spike was alive, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe Angel and the others would be alive right now."
Giles nodded. "Maybe so, but, Buffy—"
"Don't," she said flatly. "I'm going to accept that you thought you were doing what was right at the time, and that it's in the past. But Giles, trust me when I say that if you ever keep anything like this from me again, we will be done." The Watcher nodded somewhat stiffly. He understood all too well. Buffy was giving him another chance, but it was going to be his last.
Buffy suddenly smiled sweetly. "Oh, just to let you know. I'm taking Spike shopping this afternoon. On the Council's dime."
And Giles found himself unable to say no, as Buffy had expected.
~~~~~
It took some coaxing to get Spike to agree to come shopping. Buffy had found him plowing his way through a huge breakfast with Dawn looking on. Her little sister had gotten to be quite the cook this last year. Apparently living in Italy had inspired her.
Spike and Dawn were discussing the merits of a roast goose versus turkey and talking about the best way to decorate a tree. Buffy found herself rather wistful, thinking of everyone who would be missing this year. Not that she'd given much thought to Angel and his gang, but it was different—knowing that they were no longer in the world. It hurt more.
Still, it was nice to see this rather domestic scene between Spike and Dawn. It was homey and comfortable in a way she hadn't felt in so long—since before her mother had died, really. There had been the one Christmas when her mom had invited Giles and the whole gang. It had been perfect. One last perfect moment before things had gone so terribly wrong.
She found herself determined that there would be more moments like these. Whether Spike knew it yet or not, he was staying. He needed her, Buffy was certain of it. She just had to convince him.
At first, Spike flatly refused to go, even after Buffy assured him that the Council's was picking up the tab. Dawn had quickly joined in, and Spike had finally capitulated. The way he gave in had Buffy thinking that it was more that he didn't have any fight left in him than from any real desire to acquiesce.
If she was being completely honest with herself, Buffy had to admit to a secret desire to do a make-over on Spike. Well, on the clothes at least. There had been times during that horrible year when they were using each other so badly that she had gone over in her mind what would need to change for Spike to be her real boyfriend. While most of the items on her list were fairly serious, like changing the fact that he was a vampire, some were more frivolous. Like changing his dress habits.
The funny thing was, all the serious things had been taken care of at this point, either because she'd seen that they weren't so important after all or because fate had stepped in. There were only a few lingering desires to make Spike over, and it was more vague longing than actual need.
Well, that and Spike really did need some new clothes. He hardly had anything at all.
So they went shopping, and Buffy pulled out things she thought Spike should try on, and he agreed to it for the most part. They didn't talk much, not about anything important, at least. It was mainly about her favorite places in Rome, and what she was planning for the future.
By unspoken agreement, neither said anything at all about what Spike's plans might be.
He was reasonably docile until about lunchtime, when he suddenly turned to look at Buffy with an unreadable expression. "What's this about then?"
Buffy froze, knowing exactly what it was he was asking, and not particularly wanting to go into it. "We're shopping because Giles is on a guilt trip. I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth if I were you."
Spike didn't really want to. He'd spent enough time scrounging that he wasn't going to complain about free anything, but he was torn. Spike wanted to know what Buffy was doing. Was she putting him right so she could send him on his way? Was this the sort of thing a girlfriend might do?
Were they going somewhere in particular?
"Buffy—"
She ignored him. "Try this on," she ordered, shoving a navy blue shirt in his arms. At the look on his face, she sighed. "Go try it on, Spike, and then we'll go eat somewhere and talk. I don't want to have this conversation here."
He tried on the shirt, because it was easier to go along—and because he wanted to put this conversation off for as long as possible. Especially as he now knew it was imminent. It was like that night she had gone out with the principal, and he had suggested he leave. She'd refused to release him because she "wasn't ready for him not to be there."
It had been enough for Spike at the time. He hadn't truly wanted to go anyway. Now, however, he wasn't sure he wanted to stay.
In short, he was infinitely weary. What Spike really wanted was just to lie down somewhere and wake up a year or two down the road. And being with the Slayer was never restful, no matter how much he loved her.
When they left the department store to find a place to eat, there was a thread of tension between them that hadn't been present up to that point. Spike followed Buffy into a pub, and they both slid into a booth, bags and packages piled up beside them.
The silence hung between them until after they'd gotten their food, and Buffy watched as Spike started to eat hungrily, chuckling to herself. "What's so funny?" he asked around a mouthful of chips.
"You, eating," Buffy replied. "I mean, you ate before, when you were—you know, but now..."
Spike shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "'m hungry."
"It's fine, Spike," she hastened to assure him. "You look like you could use a few good meals."
"More'n a few," he admitted. "Prob'ly haven't been eating as well as I should last few months."
She smiled at him. "Well, we'll just have to fix that."
Spike's jaw tightened, and he looked away. "Buffy—"
"I can't want to help you now?" she asked,
"I don't need to be fixed!" His tone was heated. "I just need—time."
"Okay," Buffy replied. "Time I can do. I can also do TLC, because you look like you might need a little of that too."
Spike was now officially confused. He wanted to take what Buffy seemed to be offering, but he wasn't at all certain what exactly that was. Not after he'd seen her kissing Angel. Not after he'd seen her with the Immortal.
Buffy loved him sure, but what kind of love was it really? Spike found he needed a thick sort of love, one that stuck to his ribs. He couldn't afford anything weak. Not anymore.
"I don't know what you want, luv," Spike said hoarsely. "Can't give you much, Buffy. Don't have it left in me."
The Slayer frowned. She didn't want anything from him. That was the whole point. You took care of someone because you loved them, not because you wanted something from them. "I don't want anything. It's enough for me that you're here."
He didn't reply, and Buffy found herself at a loss for what to say. She'd never been good with words, not the way Spike was. Sometimes she could dredge up a speech when it really mattered, but she was drawing a blank at the moment. (And her speeches often sucked in the motivational department.)
"What do you want?" she finally asked.
Spike stared at her, stunned. No one asked him that. "I want—" He stopped. Did he even know anymore? "I dunno. Haven't given it much thought recently."
She nodded. "What do you want to know, Spike? You think I want something from you, but I don't. You don't really seem to want to stay."
Fiddling with his fork to avoid having to look directly at her, Spike muttered, "Andrew said you moved on. You were with the Immortal."
"I told you that Andrew didn't have a right to tell you anything about me," Buffy said evenly. "I would also say that no one 'moves on' from what we had." She reached across the table to grab his hand, needing contact for this. "I mourned you, Spike. I cried. I didn't think I would ever stop being sad, and when I met the Immortal I thought that maybe that was my chance to be happy for a while."
She sighed. "I don't know. I won't tell you that it wasn't a mistake. I know he's sorta on the gray end of the morality scale, but he was fun to be with and a good dancer, and I could just be Buffy with him. It was easier to be with him or someone else than it was to be the Slayer. I needed a break for a while." Buffy felt Spike's fingers tighten around hers. "That last year just about did me in, Spike, and a lot of that was losing you."
"So you haven't moved on."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "If that's what's bothering you, no, Spike. I didn't move on. I told you, what we had, it stays with a person. Maybe someday I would have fallen in love again, but you're in my heart. You always will be." She tugged on Spike's hand until he met her eyes. "Why didn't you come as soon as you were back? Or as soon as you could, at least?"
"Was goin' to," Spike confessed. "At first, I just couldn't physically, you know. Then—I dunno, luv. I started off, an' I started wonderin' if you were really bein' honest with me. Couldn't stand to think that I'd find you again, and then you'd—" There was a long pause. "When that crazy Slayer, Dana, came along, an' your lot came and grabbed her from Angel... After what she did to me, I thought for sure the boy would tell you I was back, an' then you didn't come."
"What she did to you?" Buffy echoed. "Spike, I knew a little about Dana, but I was, uh, taking a break right then. I didn't send anyone to get her. And no one told me you were back."
"An' if you'd known?"
"I would have either hauled your ass to Rome or stuck around L.A. until I convinced you to come," she replied. "No question."
"Oh." Spike stopped to let that sink in. "'m sorry, luv."
"Don't be sorry," Buffy said fiercely. "Spike, I meant what I said. I want you around, whatever that might mean right now. We'll figure it out, make it up as we go along. But I don't want to lose you again. Even if you have to go off by yourself for a while, I'll understand. I'll even wait for you. I just can't wait forever."
Spike had to look away; the moisture in his eyes couldn't be passed off as anything innocuous, like allergies. It was as though Buffy had just handed him everything he'd ever wanted on a platter, and he had no idea what to do with it. "I—I just don't know, Buffy."
"Then just rest for a while," she replied softly. "As long as you need." Buffy suddenly grinned. "Hey, I took some time off. It's only fair you get to do the same. You did save the world—twice."
"S'pose I did," he replied, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "I had help though."
Not letting go of his hand, Buffy said, "Tell me about it."
So he did.
~~~~~
By the end of the afternoon, Spike was feeling much more relaxed. Actually, relaxed was a bit of an understatement. He couldn't remember if he and Buffy had ever been able to do something like this—act like a couple, like friends. She teased him about his hair, which he hadn't been able to bleach in a while. Spike made fun of her attempted usage of British slang. They drank mulled wine and ate roasted chestnuts, and at one point Spike even made a comment about wanting to stay in England for a while, a tacit agreement to stick around for a while.
They went back to Giles' and found Dawn waiting. She pounced on Spike immediately, demanding that he try some of the baked goods she'd spent the day making with Willow. The red-headed witch had been prepared for Spike's appearance, but Spike was a little shocked when she immediately hugged him. "Spike!"
"Hey, Red," Spike replied, feeling unaccountably shy. He hadn't been certain of Buffy's friends' reactions to his reappearance, but Willow's excitement was encouraging.
She pulled back to look at him from arm's length. "You look good," Willow said finally. "I mean, you look like you could eat about a dozen cookies, but you look great for a dead guy."
"Not dead anymore," Spike said with a smile.
"So I hear," Willow replied with a smile of her own, which eventually faded. "Dawn said—I mean, Fred and Wesley..." The witch trailed off.
"Fred was gone a while before," Spike said gently, seeing the real distress in her eyes. He told the story of the gentle scientist's transformation into the Old One, Illyria, a little surprised at how strongly Willow seemed to feel.
Willow shook her head. "I don't understand, Spike. Why didn't you guys call me? I would have—I don't know. Maybe I wouldn't have been able to do anything, but I would have tried."
"We did call you," Spike replied. "'least, Angel called Giles."
The room temperature suddenly dropped several degrees. "Is that right?" Willow asked, her tone deceptively mild. Buffy and Dawn exchanged looks. "Well, I'm suddenly very curious to know why Giles was in charge of determining my schedule."
The three of them trailed after Willow with some trepidation as she went to face Giles in his study. The red-head was looking a bit like she was preparing to rain doom down on the chief Watcher's head. "Ah, Buffy, you're back. How did the shopping trip go?" Giles said, glancing up as they came in. For a moment, it almost felt like old times, all of them trooping into the library.
Of course, in those days, Willow didn't do a lot of the raining of the doom.
"It was good," Buffy said mildly, moving a little closer to Spike, announcing her allegiance to anyone who cared.
Willow cleared her throat to get Giles' attention, and then said, a thin edge of threat in her tone, "I want to know why I wasn't informed of Fred's condition, Giles."
The Watcher blinked, obviously not quite understanding her reference, and then a deep flush started spreading up from his collar. "Oh, well, you know, you were dealing with things in South America at the time. I thought it best not to pull you away."
Spike couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a hint of veins. "Fred was my friend," Willow said coldly. "You had no right to take that decision from me. I might have been able to save her!" She gestured back at Spike. "You nearly doomed us all, Giles! If the Powers hadn't intervened, the entire world might have been ended. It's a miracle that Spike's even here. If we had known—" She broke off. "I've lost too many friends to be okay with losing more."
It was a decidedly odd feeling, to be the one being defended by one of the Scoobies. Watching Willow rake Giles through the coals, for the sake of his friends, was priceless. It felt wonderful. And the fact that neither Buffy nor Dawn seemed inclined to leap to Giles' defense any time soon was even better. For once in his life, Spike didn't feel like the outsider.
For the first time, in a long time, he didn't feel as though he was fighting a losing battle. Spike felt a little like he'd just come home.
Willow finished up her speech by saying very calmly, and very deliberately, "I understand that you had reservations about Wolfram & Hart, Giles, but Fred was my friend. I had the right to make the decision about whether or not I would help her."
Giles didn't look at all pleased about getting a dressing-down in front of the others, but he nodded stiffly. "Of course, Willow. Forgive me."
"I'm not sure that it's me you need to apologize to," Willow replied, turning to sweep majestically out of the room. Spike turned to watch, impressed, a warm feeling starting in his chest and spreading through him.
With a sense of disbelief, Spike watched as Giles turned to face him. "Spike, I am sorry for your losses. I am sorry I didn't do more to help."
Spike, who was feeling a growing sense of unreality, could only nod, his emotions sticking in his throat. Giles' words didn't make losing Fred easier; justice was not possible. But it helped to know that someone else mourned her, that someone else felt the same anger.
He felt Dawn loop her arm through his. "I want to see these new clothes you and Buffy got," she announced. "Xander's not going to be here for a while, so you've got time to model for me."
Spike let himself be soothed by Dawn's cheerful presence. Their reconciliation was a salve more efficacious that anything else might have been. Giles was left to face Buffy's disapproving gaze, however, twice in the same day. "You aren't going to go on a power trip like Travers did, are you?"
Giles hated being wrong, hated feeling this defensive—hated that his actions might have caused a number of people their lives. "I think I've been sufficiently humbled to avoid that."
The Slayer heard the thinly disguised anger in his tone, and rightly guessed that most of it was self-directed. Buffy was sorry for it, if only because Christmas was the day after tomorrow, and she'd wanted it to be a happy reunion, rather than a time for recriminations. "Giles—" she stopped, deciding that Giles would work it out his own way, in his own time. "When is Xander coming in?"
"In a couple hours," he replied, grateful for the change in subject. "There should be a car waiting for him."
Buffy let herself feel a moment of regret for the days when they didn't have cars at their disposal, when they were so close as to be on top of each other. There had been disadvantages, of course, but there hadn't been the kind of distance that stretched between them now. It seemed that in spite of her hope for this holiday, the distance was not something that could be fixed.
Buffy loved Giles; she even trusted him. He was the face of the Council now, however, and would do as he felt was best. Sometimes he would be wrong. That was the way of things.
Despite her new understanding, Buffy said none of this. Instead, she smiled and nodded and said, "Just like old times."
It wasn't just like old times, however, and Buffy found herself missing her mom with a wave of grief that felt new for its strength. The old longing had not come for a long time now, and she had no idea how to handle it. She found herself thinking that Joyce would have known how to handle Spike, just what to say to make him feel welcome.
Joyce would have known what to say to them all as they found themselves drifting these last years. Buffy, with the longing of a child, still sincerely believed that in some things at least, her mother's kiss could cure everything.
She found herself upstairs, watching as Spike showed off one of his new outfits to Dawn, looking a bit sheepish at the attention. He looked up, seeing her standing in the doorway and spread his arms out. "What do you think, Buffy?"
In jeans and a red shirt, Spike didn't look so different from his old self, although the denim was blue, and not black. He was new in her eyes, though, and Buffy found herself drinking in the sight of him hungrily.
It suddenly didn't matter that her relationship with Giles would never be what it once was. Nor did it matter that Joyce was gone, as that was an old grief, and would subside a bit after the holidays. Buffy knew that because that was how it always was.
It didn't matter because with Spike, at least, she had a second chance, and those were few and far between. Buffy would be content with what she had for once.
"You look great." It was true on many levels.
~~~~~
If Spike were to be honest, what had most scared him about seeing Buffy again wasn't her. That part of it was nerve-wracking, and he honestly hadn't been certain he would survive a rejection from her, but there had been some part of him that had known she spoke truth in the Hellmouth. Maybe it was the soul itself that had known, since she had touched it for just a moment.
No, what had worried him the most had been her friends, most of whom he had not parted on friendly terms with. There was still some small part of him that remembered that it had been the looming disapproval of her friends that had kept them apart that year. Well, not only friends. Buffy being completely screwed up certainly hadn't helped matters any.
Willow's seeming whole-hearted approval of him, and honest grief over the loss of Angel and his gang, took the edge off his worry. Xander hadn't yet arrived, however, and Spike found himself tensing up as that time approached.
Spike hung back as he watched the others greet the man as he walked through the door. Tanned and fit, Xander looked well. Africa had been good for him, refining his strength and easing the grief that had settled into his very bones.
The Slayer murmured something into Xander's ear as she hugged him, and the dark-haired man looked past her to where Spike stood in the entry way. To his credit, Buffy's old friend didn't even blink. "Spike."
"Harris."
There was a moment of silence as they each sized one another up. In some strange way, they were meeting for the first time all over again, and Xander was the first to speak. "Never thought I'd say this, but it's good to see you, Spike."
Staring at the hand that was being offered, Spike finally took it, feeling the last of the tension seep from him. "Good to be seen," he replied after a brief pause. "Africa agreed with you."
"Yeah, it did," the other man agreed, and then they were both swept away in the flurry of questions and comments that came from all sides.
~~~~~
Later, Spike sat in Giles' sitting room, letting the others' words wash over him. Far from feeling the odd man out, he felt comfortable in their presence in a way he'd have said was impossible once upon a time.
He thought perhaps that this was what a soldier home from a war must feel like—as though after long months of taut nerves it was possible to let down one's guard. As though it might be possible to rest, at least for a time.
Spike didn't try and fool himself that he would never enter another battle. He had been spared for a reason, retained his strength for some purpose. Someday he would be strong enough to leap back into the fray. Knowing himself as he did, Spike didn't think it would take all that long; he liked the excitement of a good fight too much.
Now, however, he let himself drift, almost dozing off next to Buffy where they sat on the couch. It was after midnight when the Slayer prodded him into awareness enough to follow her up the stairs to her room.
Spike was not so drowsy that he didn't see her friends knowing looks, or the way she ignored them all.
Nor was he too tired to respond when she kissed him goodnight, as a woman kisses her lover—both sweet and hungry.
When he slept, it was with her flavor still lingering on his lips.
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