Chapter Seven



A/N: It is entirely possible that this is the soppiest story I have ever written.... I love it! :-) Thanks again to everyone reading. Hope you're enjoying the fluff because there's loads more to come.


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She woke with a start, jolted out of her dream and into the real world once more. It took her a moment to take in her surroundings and then she realised with a start that it was already getting dark. She let out a sleepy yawn and turned onto her back, startled as she almost collided with the figure next to her. When her heart had returned to its steady beat, she smiled softly as she took in Spike’s sleeping form: he was curled up with his head on one arm, his hair dishevelled and making him look astonishingly boyish.

The best part though was that the bruises on his face had almost entirely healed now and the colour – what little of it he had – was returning to his face. She could tell by the way he was supporting himself that the rest of his injuries – and especially his ribs – needed some more time to heal, but she was glad to see progress. The truth was, she needed him back. And not just because he was the only person in the house as strong as her.



She had been telling the truth when she had admitted to missing him over the summer – in fact, if anything, she had played down just how much she had missed him. Yes, at first all she had been able to feel was searing anger, but as the weeks passed and grew into months and he still did not return, the ache inside her grew. She couldn’t count the number of times over that long, long summer when she had wished to see him, even just once more. She had tortured herself, imagining him dead, imagining him back with Drusilla, with another woman even and at the same time, had tried to convince herself that she was over him, that it didn’t matter where he was. She’d lied to herself and to her friends, because it had mattered.

She had come to realise how much he meant to her far too late – and had astonished herself by realising it wasn’t just for the cold comfort he had given her. She missed the early days of her new life, when their friendship had been the one thing keeping her sane; she missed simply being able to talk to him. She had also missed fighting at his side, knowing that her back was being watched. She had missed a hundred tiny things that had seemed so meaningless before but had somehow burst into life when she heard that he was gone.

And now he was back. He was back, and even now she struggled to show him how much she had changed, how much her feelings for him had changed. Months of reflection, it seemed, had done nothing to improve her ability to open up.



Spike shifted in his sleep next to her, drawing her out of her musing and back to the present. She found herself watching him, unable to look away, drinking in every line of his face. Laying this close to him, taking in his features, she couldn’t deny the overwhelming attraction she still felt for him after all these months without intimacy. But then, attraction had never been their problem: it had sizzled beneath the surface for so long now that it seemed commonplace.

She sighed and sank into the pillow, closing her eyes tiredly: thinking about her relationship with Spike was far too headache-inducing right now. She was more than happy to go with the flow and see where it took them. Right now, her priority was just getting him back on his feet. She glanced over at him as he shifted in his sleep and winced as he let out a low moan. The pain jolted him awake and he came to, eyes flicking open and meeting hers, widening in surprise.

“Hey,” she whispered, desperate to break the tense silence that threatened to fall over them.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice husky with sleep.

“Are you in pain?” she asked, remembering how he had awakened.

“S’fine.”

She glared at him and pushed herself up, sliding off the bed to retrieve the first aid kit where it rested on her dressing table.

“I need to redo your bandages.”

She came back and sat beside him, waiting as he pushed himself upright and fiddling with the bandages nervously. When he struggled to remove his T-shirt, she placed the roll of bandages down and rushed to help him, guiding it over his head gently.

Decidedly ignoring their close proximity, she set to work unwinding the bandages from around his ribs, her touches light and quick as she checked his ribs. He couldn’t hide his flinch and she raised her eyes to his worriedly.

“S’fine, really,” he soothed, his hand grazing her arm, “Healing.”

She nodded and swiftly replaced the bandages, tying the end off and sitting back to admire her handiwork.



“You’re probably hungry,” she remarked after a pause, her gaze meeting his once more.

“Little bit.”

“I’ll warm you up some blood,” she said, already getting to her feet, “Do you want anything else?”

“Got any Weetabix?” he asked with a weak smile and she laughed.

“I’ll have a look.”

She turned to the door, but his words stopped her before she could leave the room.

“Thank you for this, Buffy.”

She turned back to him with a slight frown.

“You don’t need to thank me, Spike.”

“I know this is hassle for you and all, and you probably want to be out there patrolling, not looking after me-”

“Spike, shut up,” she got out affectionately, surprising him, “I’m looking after you, whether you like it or not. Got it?”

He smiled softly, watching her with warmth, and then nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Wow, that’s the easiest I’ve ever known you to give in. You must be really ill,” she teased and he gave her a low growl.

“Watch it, Slayer,” he warned, “I might not be in top form, but I could still give you what for.”

“I bet you could,” she answered in a husky voice, surprising herself – and him apparently – with her flirtatious tone.

“You know it,” he answered in a low tone, eyes turned dark as they regarded her.

She swallowed hard and shook herself.

“I should – I’m just going to-“

She gestured to the door and made a quick escape, leaning against it for a moment as her astonishment subsided. Finally, she smiled to herself and pushed away from the door, jogging down the steps and into the kitchen.