Notes: Some dialogue from Listening to Fear has been mangled into this chapter.

Disclaimer: Not mine; all Joss.

And the Dream Will Set You Free
Chapter Six

*****
It was so very late.  The hospital had let her and Dawn stay long past the time when visiting hours normally ended, and they had only left when it was clear that Mom was really asleep.  Dawn had fallen asleep as soon as she had gotten to her room, and Buffy knew she should have, too.  She sighed, staring up at the darkened ceiling, unable to close her eyes, her mind whirling at a thousand miles an hour. 

God, it’s so late that even the vamps are probably packing it in... No more caffeine for you! she thought mock sternly, and tried to fool herself into going to sleep by curling up on her side and snuggling under the comforter.

Nothing doing.  The thankfully brief confrontation with Riley about Spike, the misunderstanding with Spike and the subsequent snake-slaying, the snake-thing itself going after the Key, after Dawn, her mom’s prognosis, which she had barely let herself think about yet, because God, nearly one in three?  So not the kind of odds she wanted for her mother! Everything combined to keep her from sleeping.

At this point, I’d even welcome another dream about Spike… and whoa, what does that say about my state of mind?

She sat up, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.  With a sigh, she rested her head on her knees.  You know what, Buffy? Think about it.  You can’t do anything for Mom right now, as much as you want to.  The gang made it clear there can’t be any spells, and the surgery isn’t for a few days yet.  The snake thing is dead, and there’s not a lot I can do about Glory until Giles finds out what she is.  Riley… almost killed Spike.   She swallowed; thinking of Spike being dust made her stomach clench unpleasantly.  But he didn’t know I asked him to stay, and he wouldn’t have believed Spike anyway.  At least Spike doesn’t seem to be holding what Riley did against me…

The fact that it bothered her a lot that Spike might hold a grudge bothered her a little.  It was another sign that she was not acting the way a Slayer should... but beyond that, she found she couldn’t bring herself to really care.

There’s just too much other grown-up and way scary stuff going on.  I can’t worry about that, too.

With a sigh, she rested her chin on her knee and stared across her dark room.  ‘Cept I am.  In the back of my head, I’m thinking about those dreams, and… and about Spike, and I can’t stop myself.  She traced one finger in patterns over her comforter.  All right, so there’s a question.  Why can’t I stop?

She pondered that for a long minute, staring down at her hand, barely visible in the moonlight filtering in through her shades.  I guess… because I don’t want to.  And how surprising is that?  I don’t think I ever devoted this much thought to him even when I was trying to dust him…

Earlier, when Spike had told her about Riley throwing him out of the house, her heart and stomach had done a sickening lurching thing, as if they were trying to trade places.  Thinking about dusting Spike herself made it happen again, and she couldn’t understand why, even though she’d called him her friend just the other night… and meant it.  It just kind of slipped out, but… I guess… No, I did mean it.  With everything he’s done lately… he really is, and I want to be his friend, too.  And can we just say Slayer on the edge of insanity?  He’s killed two Slayers, and he’s tried to kill me so many times… and my friends…And… he’s irritating and exasperating and aggravating…

And he’s helping me protect Dawnie.  He’s understanding and comforting and not pushing me to be all super-hero girl all the time.  He lets me be me.  And I like being me around him.  I like just being around him.

The thought ran through her head once more, just as it had the previous night on the porch with Spike. I could fall in love with him so easily…

Quickly she shook her head again.  Soulless vampire, Buffy!  Haven’t we been down the vampire-loving road before?  Look how that turned out – and Angel had a soul and was able to love you.  You are not in love with Spike, and even if you were – and the jury is really still out on that – he will never love you back.

The very thought sent a pang through her, sharp and painful.

Then she remembered something else, something that made her question if everything Giles – and Angel, she reminded herself guiltily – had told her about vampires was true.  Spike had given up a whole roomful of tasty treats so that she wouldn’t stake Drusilla.  He had gone up against Angelus with her to save the world, in exchange for getting safe passage for him and Dru.

Reluctantly, she recalled the way Spike had acted when he’d blown back into town a couple years ago, how upset he’d been over Dru’s unfaithfulness.  It wasn’t too hard to remember how Willow had looked at Tara, and imagine Spike looking at Dru the same way.

All right, different evidence.  But even if he can love, he’ll never love me.  I’m still the Slayer, and he’s still… I mean, there will always be Dru.  She found herself sniffling at that. 

God.  It’s only been a month, maybe a little more, since you had that first dream.  Can you really fall in love with someone that fast? No.  No, you can’t.  Not really.  We’re friends.  That’s all.  If it’s anything, it’s just… I mean, he is good looking.  So it’s a crush.  Right?  Right.  Just a crush.

She opened her eyes and took a deep, centering breath.  “All right,” she said quietly, hoping that giving the words breath would also give them more weight.  “Weird as weird may be, Spike is your friend.  Just your friend.  Whatever you feel for him – and it’s just a crush, if it’s even anything at all! – it will never go anywhere, and you will only get very hurt in the end if you push it.  You’re crushing for your friend, and if you just keep quiet about it, it will eventually go away, because that’s what crushes do.  So don’t think too much about what Spike might feel for you, because whatever you’re hoping? It’s a sure bet he doesn’t.”

Buffy let the talking-to sink in, and then lay back down.  But she continued to stare sleeplessly at the ceiling, and wondered why she felt the very same heartsick way she had after Angel had left.

***
Buffy frowned as Willow handed her the textbook, then clearly exaggerated the expression when it seemed to amuse her mother – or, at least made her grimace seem more amused than pained.  “Humph.  I don’t believe in tiny Jewish Santa anymore,” she pouted.

Willow gave her a little half-smile, having known that her “gift” to Buffy would provoke that reaction.  She tried to give her some hints on the exam she’d missed, to which she received the somewhat unsettling reply that Buffy might skip it altogether.  But… school! she wanted to protest. School is important!

“I’d rip it in half and stick in bed with me.”

There was a very long beat of silence.  Willow stared wide-eyed at Buffy’s mother, hardly able to believe that the strange words had come from her mouth.  A quick glance told her that Buffy and Dawn were just as stunned as she was.

And Mrs. Summers didn’t even seem to know that she’d said anything. 

“M-mom?” Buffy’s voice trembled just a little, and Willow suddenly had an inkling into something that was much more important than school.

Mrs. Summers turned tired eyes to her daughters.  “I think I’ll just take a little rest…”

With hardly another word, Buffy herded Dawn and Willow from the room.  Of course, the first thing Dawn did once they were safely out of her mother’s room was turn to Willow.  “What did she mean?” she asked, her voice filled with fear.  “She sounded…”

“She’s gonna be all right, sweetie,” Willow said, but she could hear the lack of conviction in her words, and knew that the girl wouldn’t believe her.  A little desperately, she looked over Dawn’s shoulder, searching for Buffy and hoping that she could give Dawn the kind of support she needed.  ‘Cause I am totally not up for the job.

But what Buffy said was… weird; it almost sounded like it wasn’t really real.  Or maybe that was just the awful sense of unreality that surrounded the whole situation.  I mean… aren’t moms supposed to be the ones taking care of sick kids?

“It’s like a flash across her brain, there and gone and then she’s… Mom again.”

Still, Willow couldn’t help but do the best friend thing, and try to give credence to Buffy’s statement.  “And after the operation, bam, no more tumor, no more pressing, no more flashes.” And then I ruin it by babbling, she thought a little disparagingly.

Of course, Dawn had to question it.  “Are you sure?  Really?”

Buffy’s “Hey!  Santa doesn’t lie,” at least made Dawn smile a little.

“That thing there… there’s no data!  There’s nothing… no pictures… ”

The man looked like a jolly fat man, the kind that would really play Santa if he wore a fake beard… but he was crazy.  His words were all strung together in sentences that might have been coherent, as long as you didn’t pay any attention to what he was actually saying.

And he was pointing at Dawnie, and Dawnie was looking rightfully scared, straining away from the crazy man as much as she could without giving up having her sister and Willow on either side.  “Buffy…”

Thankfully, though, he was easily distracted, as the woman who had to be his wife touched his back and drew him away.

Even when the intern that Buffy seemed to know came up, Willow stared after the man, shuffling down the corridor away from them, flanked by his wife and daughter.  The snake thing was scared of Dawnie, she recalled, and her brain started to work things through slowly.  The crazy man was pointing at her, too, when he was spouting off all that.  What is it about her?  Why would the snake run – well, slither – away when it saw her?  What’s wrong with her?

Immediately, though, she was ashamed of having those thoughts – and standing right next to Buffy and Dawn, no less!  She left quickly after that, and even stargazing with Tara later, her own guilt wouldn’t let her talk about it.

She was very glad that there was a distraction in the form of a crashing meteor, even if it meant that they had to deal with evil.

***
They had all fought demons for years – much longer than he had – but Riley was still surprised at how trusting they were.  He had urged Giles and the others to do the research, told them that he’d search for some more clues and report back.

As soon as they were out of earshot, though, he got in touch with Graham.

Now he watched the chopper sweep in over the hill, churning the water into wavelets with the rotor-wind, and it just felt right.  There was something satisfying about patrolling with Buffy, he had to admit it, even with the medieval weapons she used – disturbingly effective as they were.  But there was a thrill he just couldn’t ignore in the power of technology.  It made his heart beat just a little faster, made the adrenaline start to surge through him.

It was an excitement that was sorely lacking in his life.

He’d known it would be like this – the yearning to go back and be a part of the group warring with his love for Buffy.  Even if she doesn’t seem to need me anymore.  He pushed the thought away as he shook hands with the officer in charge of the squad.

Graham’s quiet “You usually call your girlfriend for things like this” didn’t help matters either, especially since there was no way he could respond.

Tara’s words – Buffy’s got life stuff – echoed in his head, as did Xander’s not-too-thinly-veiled accusations about missing patrol with him and Willow and Giles the night before.  They kept pounding away in his brain, even as he showed the squad the crazy guy’s body and the shell of the meteor.  If Buffy’s got life stuff, why isn’t she sharing it with me?  Why won’t she let me help her? And why was she so concerned about Spike?

He couldn’t come up with any answers that he liked for that one.  But he did like that most of the answers led to Spike’s dusty demise.  The trip to the hospital was spent imagining the various ways Buffy might show her appreciation for being rid of the menace.

I can prove to her that she needs me.

***
His cool, pale skin covered firm muscle, and she ran her fingers across it, scraping with her nails just hard enough to raise a reddish furrow, just enough to make him shiver and buck against her.  She quickly bent to soothe the scrapes with her lips, and they faded away without a trace.

His hands slipped from beneath her shirt, having abandoned her breasts, and she whimpered in protest at the loss.  But then the weirdest thing happened – weird and wonderful all at once.  He wrapped his arms around her, and drew her heated face to rest on his shoulder, just holding her.  “It’s all right, love,” he murmured into her hair.  “I’ve got you.”

And she felt such a swell of feeling in her chest… she couldn’t believe she could care about him any more, yet she did.  “I love you, Spike,” she whispered, kissing his throat one last time before dissolving in tears.

Buffy had, at first, thought she hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, but the abundance of Spike-dreams proved otherwise.

Probably making up for not having any Spike-dreams for a couple nights.  She paused in rinsing the suds off the plate she held.  Though… gotta wonder why I didn’t have any dreams of Spike the night he was here… unless it was because he was here, and my wacky sub-conscious decided it didn’t need any more stimulation.  She flushed at the thought, and quickly finished rinsing off the plate.

Funny how last night’s dream wasn’t quite so much with the… sex.  Then she frowned, remembering.  But…I said I loved him again…

Maybe it’s a ‘just friends’ kinda thing?  She snorted at her own wishful thinking.  Yeah, right, Buffy.  You usually try to suck the lips off all your friends like that.  Still crushing.

You know what?  You are still devoting way too much thinking time to Spike.  This is a no-Spike-thoughts zone.

She scrubbed the next dish especially hard, even though there wasn’t anything stuck to it.  It didn’t help.

From upstairs, she heard her mother talking, muttering all kinds of crazy things, just like that guy at the hospital, telling Dawn she wasn’t real…

Mom called Dawn a thing, too.  Buffy bit her lip.  Mom’s acting like… like one of those crazy people.  I don’t want her to be crazy.  I don’t want her to be sick… I want my mother back…

That was when she became aware that she was crying.

She had just swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand when Dawn’s scream echoed down the stairs.

***
The first things that hit Spike when he stepped into the Summers’ kitchen were the smells.  Buffy, Dawn, Joyce, salt, fear and…

Wait, what the hell was that? He sniffed again, stepping around the island.  Something scorched and sulfurous, and entirely foreign.  He made his way further through the house, into the dining room.  That’s when he heard it – the unmistakable sounds of a struggle upstairs, and an irritatingly high-pitched shriek, then thumping and the Slayer’s groans as she tumbled down the stairs, fighting against what was, hands down, the ugliest demon he’d ever seen.

The Slayer and the demon broke apart as they hit the bottom of the stairs.  The Slayer jumped to her feet, while the demon slithered into the shadows.  Spike cast about for the demon’s scent, the sound of it rustling as it moved, but nothing.

“Spike?” The Slayer was moving a little stiffly, no doubt feeling the sting of bruises from her trip down the staircase.  “Where is it?” she whispered almost soundlessly, turning slowly around.

After a few moments without any sight or sound of it, just that pervading scent, he shook his head.  “Dunno.  Can’t get a bead on it.”  He pivoted and retreated to the kitchen, senses on the alert, knowing that the Slayer would guard his back.

The kitchen was empty, the door still firmly shut, so at least it hadn’t gotten out.  He shook his head; they were going to have to search for the damned thing.  “So what the bloody hell was that?”

She shrugged and plucked the biggest cooking knife out of the wooden block on the counter.  “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” she replied, her tone hard.  “All I know is it’s after my mother.”  She clenched the knife tightly in her hand.

“Your mum? Thought she was still in hospital.”

“No… we brought her home a little while ago.  She didn’t want to stay…” She tightened her grip on the knife even further, until her knuckles were white.  “She… she’s acting a little… weird.”  When she glanced at him, her eyes glimmered in the feeble moonlight that found its way through the windows, and it struck him that the scent of salt had been her tears.

He hadn’t wanted to think about what he felt for the Slayer, or what the Slayer felt for him, not after spending the other night wearing himself out doing just that.  He’d told himself that it was just a temporary thing, that when the bloody Scoobies had figured out what to do with this Glory chick, things would necessarily slip back to the way they’d been before.

Patrolling partners, he had thought firmly, and washed it down with a swallow of Jack Daniels.  That’s all.  Nothin’ more.

But, another voice had whispered softly, would a patrolling partner cry on your shoulder like she did?  And twice?

The day before, she’d stopped by his crypt on her way to the hospital, and let him know that even though it was their night to patrol, she couldn’t; she needed to spend time with her mother.  She hadn’t asked him to patrol without her, and for a long while after dark had fallen, he had stayed in.  But all the while, he was pacing up and down, or sitting and fidgeting, fingers tapping, knee jumping, filled with nervous energy. 

Then he’d gone out without her, all the while telling himself he wasn’t really doing her patrol for her.  Now he was at her house…

Not gonna think about that right now, he told himself.  He took a step closer to her.  “Pet…”

Whatever else he might have said was cut off by the scaly bulk of the demon falling onto his shoulders and knocking him to the floor.  He yelled in surprise, and struggled to keep the thing from… well, doing whatever it intended to do.  It was even uglier close up – the sucker-like mouth ringed with feelers made him think of some of the B-movies he’d seen.  It’s a brain sucker! I don’t want to get my brain sucked out!  All the while it strained against him, trying to get close to his face, it was making that piercing squealing that made his ears ring painfully, until he wished he were deaf.

He thrashed wildly, felt his foot connect with something, and heard the Slayer’s gasp of pain and the clatter of her weapon on the floor.  “Sorry,” he grunted, and with another shout, managed to heave the thing off him.  Immediately it spun – how can it when it’s got no legs? – and went after the Slayer, throwing itself against her and knocking them both into the dining room.

Spike wasted no time scrambling to his feet.  The knife glinted on the floor where it had fallen, and he grabbed it.  Twisting around, he saw that Buffy was climbing to her feet.  “Slayer!” he called, and threw the knife, a sharp arc glittering through the faint light.  The handle slapped neatly into her palm, and he felt a jolt of satisfaction in spite of himself.

Before he could even move to assist her, Ugly had pushed her down again.  He reached her just as the knife flashed and sank into the demon’s back for the third time.  It gurgled and thank God the shrieking finally stopped.

With a disgusted look, the Slayer shoved the corpse off her. But she did smile when he reached down to pull her to her feet.  “Thanks,” she panted when she regained her feet.

He’d just drawn breath to reply when both doors burst open and men poured in, black-clad military types, guns at the ready, led by the familiar figure of Captain Cardboard.  Spike was suddenly acutely aware of Buffy’s hand in his, because her fingers tightened.  Thinking she’d be uncomfortable getting caught seemingly holding hands with him, then wondering why he cared, he loosened his grasp.

The look she shot him was unreadable, but that didn’t surprise him nearly as much as the way her hand held his even more closely, warm fingers around his cooler ones, or the openly hostile look she gave Riley when he put his big hand on her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” Riley asked, then caught sight of the dead demon at their feet and started.

At last the Slayer let go of Spike’s hand, but she didn’t even acknowledge Riley, only pushed past him to run up the stairs.

Riley was still staring down at the body, almost as if he were confused that it was dead, but his head jerked up when Spike said, “You just missed a real good time.”

Spike delighted in the thunderous scowl that darkened Cardboard’s face.  Gotcha, you self-righteous ponce! Instead of pushing it further, though – no sense adding any more bruises, burns or broken bones to my collection – he just smirked and melted into the shadows, heading for the back door while the soldier boys were otherwise occupied.

Once out on the back porch, he recalled his original intent for wanting to talk to the Slayer tonight.  He’d seen the pitiful attempt at patrol last night – courtesy of Red, Droopy Boy and the Watcher – and laughed his arse off, following them.  Their presence got him to thinking, a dangerous proposition whenever the Slayer was involved these days.  She hadn’t asked him to patrol with them, hadn’t offered it as an alternative, hadn’t expected him to patrol on his own.

Afterwards, though, he’d figured that the Slayer might appreciate his help, especially if, as he’d overheard, Captain America wasn’t helping out as he should.  At least her mates had a better chance of living to screw up another day if he went along.

Yeah, and don’t forget having the Slayer’s gratitude.  But he still couldn’t say why that mattered to him so much… because it did.  And he didn’t even have the urge to lord it over her, or to find a way to use it against her, just like he didn’t want to kill her.

He was still reeling from that little revelation, never mind what had followed.

Automatically, he searched for his cigarettes and lit one, careful to keep out of direct line of sight from the door.  Bloody hell, he thought, and sighed out a column of smoke.  Can’t even stop thinkin’ about it. 

Without warning, he remembered the first time he’d returned to Sunnydale.  Most of that visit was lost in the fog of an alcoholic stupor, but he clearly recalled telling the Poof and the Slayer that the moon eyes they were giving each other were sickening.  “Makes me want to heave,” he’d said, and somehow, he realized with a definite sinking sensation, that just about describes it when I think about the Slayer dead.

You do know how wrong it is to not want the Slayer dead, right? You are such a wanker.

But telling himself that didn’t make it any less true.  The Slayer had called him her friend, and that meant she cared… and anyone who cared about him automatically earned his loyalty.

He flung the end of his cigarette out into the yard.  Even if it means I run through booze and fags like they’re goin’ out of style.

He was about to pull out another cigarette when it struck him that the house had gone quiet behind him – the heavy tread of booted feet and deep masculine voices had vanished.  He cursed at his own carelessness; the soldiers hadn’t shown any interest in him, but he’d already been the
recipient of their life-altering hospitality and had no desire to repeat the experience.  They could have already set up an ambush.  In seconds, he was halfway across the back yard, intending nothing more than to put as much distance between him and them as possible.

“Spike?”

The sound of the Slayer’s voice drew him up, and he glanced over his shoulder.  She stood on the back porch, just pulling the door closed behind her.

“I… I’m glad you stopped by.  But… was there something you wanted?”  She crossed her arms, and suddenly he saw it as the defensive gesture it was, not the offensive move she frequently used it as.  Her eyes were wide, her expression almost vulnerable in the moonlight.

Somehow, all the hurtful things he could say melted out of his brain at the sight of her vaguely frightened face.  “Just wanted to see how your mum was,” he said, surprising himself a little, and felt something warm and pleasant zing through him when she gave him a tremulous smile, even as tears glistened in her eyes.  Looking away, with all the nonchalance he could muster, he went on, “An’ I saw the pathetic attempt at patrol last night – Harris and Red and Rupes.  Figure it’s best if I don’t let some lucky vamp have a free meal when one of ‘em trips and falls on their stake.” Off her puzzled look, he clarified, “I’ll still help you out with patrol, even if you don’t go… ‘least until your mum’s doing better.”

For one moment, her smile was blinding.  “I… are you sure?”  Her voice was filled with amazement.

He shrugged.  “Yeah.  You know I need to have a bit of violence to sleep through the day, and it beats havin’ to pay Willy for bustin’ up his bar.” He grinned at her snort of laughter, and stepped toward her again, until he was just within arm’s reach.  “So… how is your mum?” he asked softly.

She sobered quickly, and tensed her arms across her chest. “The tumor… it’s making her act… kinda crazy,” she replied in the same tone.  “Her operation is in a few days.”

Spike watched her for a heartbeat, then laid a hand lightly on her shoulder.  “She’ll be fine, pet,” he said and smirked.  “After all, you had to get your fighting spirit from somewhere.”

The Slayer nodded and tried to smile, then reached up to squeeze his hand.  “Yeah, you’re right.”

He could only stare at her, stunned by her action.  What the hell is happening? he wondered.  What is she doing to me?  After an uneasy moment, he gave himself a mental shake and pulled his hand away.  “Right.  Good night, then, Slayer.”  He turned and started to swagger away.

“Good night, Spike,” and hell if she didn’t sound sad to see him go.

The sound of that good night echoed through him long after he’d returned to his crypt.

***
She’d been dreading this moment all morning.  “Hey, Riley.”

“Hi.”  He looked a little strained and pale.  “Can I come in?”

Actually, Buffy thought, opening the door to her boyfriend, I’ve been dreading it since I threw the Initiative wanna-be group out of the house last night, but who’s keeping track?

And why was Riley with them instead of patrolling?

Pushing that question to one side, she led him in to sit on the sofa.  “I just want to give you advance warning,” she said, perching on the edge of the cushion.  “My mom’s… not acting like herself, and it’s sometimes kind of… well, wigsome.  And she’s on meds to control the pain, and I have to go check on her every little while to make sure she’s…” Face it, Buffy, she thought, looking down at her hands, as she had all through her little rambling speech to Riley.  You’re going to check on her every few minutes just to make sure she’s here, not at the hospital, to make sure the tumor hasn’t killed her yet…

Riley’s hand engulfed hers as they twisted in her lap.  “Hey,” he said quietly.  “Deep breaths.”  He smiled, as if encouraging her to go on, but before she could, he said, “Wouldn’t it be easier if your mother was in the hospital?”

Buffy felt herself tense, but didn’t pull her hands away from his.  “She didn’t want to be there,” she replied, her tone flat.  “She wanted to be home.  I don’t mind taking care of her.”

Somehow, her tone got through to him, and he sighed.  “Buffy, I’m sorry.  I just don’t understand, but if you and she think it’s best she’s at home, I’m not going to say anything more about it.  I just… that’s why you kicked us out last night, though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… I’m glad you got rid of the body, but you were kind of disturbing Mom, and Dawnie was really freaked out about the whole demon-in-the-house thing.  And why were you with those guys anyway?  I thought you were going to patrol with Giles and Will and Xander?” She got the question out in a rush, as if it were a bandage that needed to be pulled off quickly.

His face tightened, and she wondered why.  “I hung around the site where the thing crashed.  They must have seen it or something, and I just… tagged along.”

She tilted her head slightly as she studied him.  While it sounded plausible enough on the surface – after all, Willow had called and given her the whole story, mentioning that she and Tara had seen the meteor crash – something about it didn’t ring quite true. 

And Spike… Spike had said something about seeing Giles, Willow and Xander on patrol the other night.  But, she remembered suddenly, he didn’t mention anything about seeing Riley…

Inwardly, she shook her head.  I’m not going to look for a reason to argue, she thought, and forced herself to smile at him a little.   “I did want to apologize for throwing you all out, though,” she offered. “I mean, I know I didn’t have to be so… rude about it.  And,” her voice failed her for a moment; apologies were never her forte.  “And I’m sorry I’ve been all kinds of… distant lately…”

Riley gave her a smile in return, and ran a hand through her hair before cupping the back of her head.  He drew her in for a kiss, lips just brushing hers before he pulled away again.

Whoa, she thought, her mind trying to process at top speed, what just happened here?

“It’s all right, Buffy,” he said, thumb stroking her cheek.  “I mean, yeah, I’ve been feeling a little under-appreciated, but…you’ve got reason.  I just want you to remember that whenever you need me, I’m here for you.  Just say the word.”

She blinked, and gave him a smile that felt wooden and unreal.  “Thanks,” she said, trying to infuse her voice with some warmth.

He was still beaming at her, a smile so big that if she hadn’t known him, she would have sworn it was fake.  He continued to cup her cheek in his big hand, until she folded her fingers around it and drew it away, down to the sofa cushion between them.

“Buffy!”

Dawn’s strident voice carried easily down the stairs, and Buffy jumped a little, releasing Riley’s hand.  She stalked over to the foot of the stairs and glared up at her sister, standing on the landing.  “Dawn, I told you to be quiet,” she hissed angrily.  “You can’t bother Mom!”

Dawn glowered right back down at her, mimicking her arms-crossed posture, and arching her eyebrow in a way that was eerily familiar.  “Mom needs her pills.  And you’re down there.  So I’m not bothering her, I’m bothering you.”  Then she flounced down the hall and not-quite slammed her door.

Brat, Buffy thought heatedly.  With a weary sigh, she turned back to Riley.

Before she could say anything, though, he stood up, grinning.  “I think I’ll take that as my cue to get out of your hair,” he said, and leaned over to kiss her, his fingers engulfing hers and squeezing.  “You’re not going to be able to go out on patrol tonight, are you?” and she couldn’t decide if it was hope in his voice or if she was just hearing things.

She shook her head, looking anxiously up the staircase.  “No, I can’t.  I’ve got to be here to take care of Mom.”

He nodded.  “Yeah, I figured.  So I’ll get the gang and go out, all right?”

“No, you don’t have to,” she replied before she could stop herself, and then groaned inwardly at his frown.

“What are you talking about?  You just said you can’t patrol.”

His grasp had tightened around her hand, and she tried to pull her fingers away as unobtrusively as possible.  “No, I know.”  Okay, she thought worriedly, just how bad would he take it if I told him the real reason?

“So, what, it’s okay for the others to go out on patrol without you, but not me?”

“No, the others aren’t –” She broke off with a sigh and gave in.  “Spike is going to patrol until Mom’s better.”  When she looked up through her eyelashes, she saw just what she had expected: Riley scowling in anger, eyes shooting sparks.

“So you ask him before you ask your friends?”

His dismissive, distrusting tone touched off her temper, and she stepped back, putting more space between them.  “I didn’t ask, he offered,” she retorted, “and yes, before you say it, I’m going to take his word for it.”  Making a conscious effort, she relaxed and tried to let go of her anger.  “Can we not argue about it now?” she pleaded.

He gave a short nod and turned toward the door.  “Fine.  I’ll catch you later.”

The door latched softly behind him, and for a long moment, Buffy just stared at it, wondering why she had to realize now, of all times, that she wasn’t in love with her boyfriend.