I woke up gasping for air again.

This time I knew where I was at once, and there were already a couple of candles speckling the darkness. Spike was holding my hand and didn’t say a word when I dug my nails in his palm before starting to regulate my breathing like he’d shown me the morning before.

I emptied my lungs slowly and was about to refill them, when he placed his free palm, fingers splayed, over my chest. “Don’t. Count to five again.”

It went against every instinct I had not to inhale, but I kept telling myself the burning in my lungs was a figment of my imagination. I couldn’t really be suffocating, not within five seconds.

I sucked the air in with an audible whoosh the moment he said, “Five,” then let it hiss out.

“Better?”

“Yes.” Why was that little word so hard for me to say out loud? I really was an ungrateful bitch. At least I felt a little bit bad about it—and boy, was I a study in paradoxes. I felt dead inside, yet I could go on guilt trips at the drop of a hat. I used a vampire so I could feel something, but the thought he was the one making me feel, lead to self-hatred. I wanted normalcy, still I’d had the only two good nights of sleep when in my nemesis’ bed. Can Dr. Freud come to Spike’s crypt? Dr. Freud to Spike’s crypt. We have a case for ya.

Spike was studying me, and I studied back. His eyes were tired, I noticed. “Did you get any sleep?”

His eyebrows did that funny squiggly thing they always do when he’s surprised and believes he can hide it. His face says even more than his mouth most of the time, and that really is a feat. “I patrolled,” he said. “Nothing to write home about: dusted a fledgling, scared a couple of high-school kids macking where they shouldn’t.” He didn’t answer my question. He also hadn’t let go of my hand, and I only just noticed I was brushing his knuckles with my thumb.

I tried to stop doing that without making it look like I was stopping just for the sake of it, which meant I had to find something else to keep my fingers busy. My hair provided the perfect excuse. “I’m a mess. I should take a shower.”

He smirked. “Didn’t wanna be the one to suggest it, but you do smell sort of ripe.”

“Hey! Some of us aren’t blessed with undead pores, you know. We sweat.” I sat there watching as my hand batted his shoulder playfully. Was I flirting with him?

He looked as incredulous as I felt. “Um... There’s no hot water,” he offered a second or two later.

Something dawned on me just then. “It’s Monday. What time is it?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Morning? Midday. Dunno.”

“I am supposed to be at work by noon.” I had to go by the house, get my uniform. Had I ironed it? Spike would tell me not to go, but I’d already taken the weekend off, and doubted I could ask for more days.

“You’re not going.” His very eloquent face was asking, “Are we back to that again?”

“This is serious, Spike. I can’t call in sick, I need the money!” I was already fighting the covers off, but he trapped my body with his.

“Lesson two is about shirking responsibility once in a while,” he said calmly.

“You’re pulling stuff out of your ass,” I said haughtily. “That’s the same as delegating.”

“No it’s not.” He was all Giles-like again—teacher-mode: on! “You’re not actively transferring responsibility, you’re saying, Who gives a fuck if this gets done?”

“Who gives a fuck? I give a fuck!” There was one emotion I’d been handling well lately and that was anger. I knew how to manage it and felt more than a little relieved when it began to rise inside me. “And of course you know all about shirking responsibility, don’t you? What have you ever been responsible for? Whom have you ever been responsible for? If I don’t work, we lose the house. I lose Dawn. This isn’t a game.”

I shoved him, and he shoved me back, the fury shining in his eyes matching mine. “I’ve been responsible for a dying mother, a crazy lover, four grief-stricken kids—three of whom I didn’t even like—and now a self-destructive, passive-aggressive bitch, so don’t give me the holier than thou attitude, Slayer.”

“Passive-aggressive bitch? Nice bedside manner, Spike!” I spat his name out like an insult.

“Tough love, baby. That’s the kind you need. Now, you’re staying here whether you like it or not. And you’re not calling in sick. You’re not calling in at all. If they call your place looking for you, let Red step up and bring home the bacon for a change.”

He was shaking me while he yelled in my face, but his words rattled me more than his hands did. I started to say, “But the money—”

“I have money. You can have as much of it as you need. Say an aunt died and left it to you.” He let go of me and ran both palms down his face.

I wanted to ask why he stole stuff if he had money and also tell him I certainly didn’t want his money, but was too shocked by his outburst.

“You don’t always have to choose the hard way. You don’t. Unless you realize that, you’ll never be happy. Why don’t you want to be happy?”

I opened my mouth to retort with something undeniably witty, only nothing of the kind would come out. Snapping my lips closed, I mulled the question over. Why don’t you want to be happy? I knew it was an important question and it was essential that I answered as honestly to him as I would to myself. With Spike I could be alone; I’d said so before, but he hadn’t gotten what I meant, and I’d been too self-absorbed to explain. Back then, before we’d become my sordid little secret, he’d been the only one who didn’t crowd me, the only one who didn’t expect things from me. When had that changed?

I looked at him and realized it hadn’t. I was the one who’d distorted it. From what he’d had to offer, I’d taken the things that I could later blame him for... blame me for. So I could be unhappy. Why didn’t I want to be happy?

“I want to,” I finally whispered. “I just don’t know how.”

He slid under the covers with me, his boots still on, and gathered me in his arms. He held me while I cried once again, rocked me and caressed my back, and all the while he promised he’d teach me how.

***

It’s entirely possible Spike was afraid I’d cry again if he pressed the matter, but that day, breakfast consisted only of toast with butter and jam, and orange juice. My phone rang as I was downing my last gulp, and he let me have it, a warning look in his eyes.

“Home” blinked on the screen.

“Hello?” I hoped it was Dawn.

“Buffy? Where are you? I called last night, and you didn’t call me back. Angel said he hasn’t heard from you. Are you all right? Double Meat Palace people are looking for you, too.” It was Willow, and she managed to say all of that in one breath.

“You called Angel?” Yay anger boiling again! “Why did you do that?”

“You said you’d be gone for a week, and I couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d go.” She didn’t sound even the tiniest bit apologetic. Fuel to the fire. It felt good being mad at someone other than myself or Spike.

“Who gave you the right, Wills? I said I was fine and needed some alone-time. Did the house catch on fire?” The question sounded as snappish as I’d meant for it to, and I saw Spike smirk. I tossed a pillow to his general direction.

“No, but—”

“Did you have a life or death situation?”

“No...”

Her whiny tone was grating on my nerves. I didn’t want to hear whatever excuse she had coming; I didn’t want to hear anything she had to say. I wanted to hang up and shirk responsibility, like Spike’s plan was.

“I’m just worried for you, Buffy. We all are.”

There it was again. They were worried I wasn’t happy after all they’d done for me. To me. That was my opening to set things straight and get her to let me deal with things my way. “Don’t be,” I said instead. The Chosen One was a big fat coward. “I’m fine.” The fight was sucked out of me, and I just wanted off the phone. “I need a few days to unwind, a room by the sea, no slaying. Just to relax, you know?”

Both of Spike’s eyebrows were arched in amusement—I guess at how easily the lies rolled off my tongue. I glared at him. “Spike said he’d take care of patrols, so you don’t need to bother with that.”

“Okay.” She sounded reassured. “You just want to do girly stuff. I get that. After everything you have been through, a little coddling-the-Buffy is of the good. But you could have done it here, or I could have come with you. And you didn’t pack any clothes. What about work?”

So I could possibly scrounge up some urge to fight with her. She’d gone through my wardrobe? And what business was if of hers if I went to work or not? Spike’s presence steeled my resolution, and this time I didn’t back down from an argument for the sake of friendship. “I am the Slayer. I don’t need babysitting. I also don’t need to flip burgers for a living. Not anymore. I’m sorry to be telling you this over the phone—”

I really wasn’t

“—I meant to tell you when I got back—”

It really hadn’t crossed my mind before she’d pissed me off

“—but you are going to have to start paying rent and chipping in for food and stuff. I can’t pay for three people any longer. If you want a job, I think the Double Meat Palace may have an opening starting today.” Before she could voice any objections, I added, “Forgot to pack my charger. Have to save battery. Talk in a few days. Take care.” I pressed the “Off” button and kept pressing it until my phone was deactivated. I might have just been petty instead of openly talking about how things weren’t okay between us, but I felt guilt-free.

Tossing it to Spike, I said, “If you don’t stop smirking, I’ll kick you somewhere you never ever wanna be kicked.”

“If you talk to the whelp like that too, you can stake me if you want. Bloody worth it, it will be!” He started chuckling, and his chuckles soon turned into guffaws. “It was like I could see her face, when you said that burger place would be hiring.”

“Shut up, Spike.” I could feel a grin tugging at the corners of my lips. I pushed him, and he must have been too relaxed or off balance, because he rolled off the bed. That, in turn, brought about a new round of laughter. It was cathartic laughing like a loon with my vampire ex-arch-enemy. We seemed to get alone great when we weren’t fucking or trying to kill each other.

Once I’d caught my breath, I looked down at him over the edge of the bed. “You know, being on your ass becomes you.”

His fingers curled around my bicep faster than I could blink, and he pulled me down on top of him. I’m sure he only meant to remind me he was still the Big Bad, fast and dangerous, but the way I ended up lying on top of him, our lips inches from each other, our bodies pressed together in all the right places, reminded me of much more than that.

I bit my lip and let my fingers trail up his stomach. My face tilted upwards, and our gazes locked. I wanted him. I was sure I wanted him that moment. Not the dirtybadwrong sex we had, not the way he filled the void for a few hours, not one more chance to hate both him and myself. I wanted him.

He ghosted his thumb over my cheek. “Buffy... No.”

I craned my neck. Just a little more, just a hairsbreadth, and our lips would touch...

“Hey, Bleached Wonder, you here?” The wrongest of wrong voices to hear just when you’re about to have a make-out session with the hot vampire set on saving you from yourself: Xander’s voice.

Suddenly the cuff around my ankle started bothering me, chaffing the skin. I hadn’t even been feeling it until then; all I’d been feeling had been Spike’s presence under and around me. I climbed off him and stood by the bed, my brain unable to give further orders to my body as to how to react. Footsteps sounded above us, coming closer to the opening between the two levels of the crypt.

Spike stood, fast as lightning. All his movements have a feline element, but the way he gets up from even the worst fall is the most graceful sight. His body seems almost fluid. He looked from me to the staircase, then back to me. “Don’t,” he said. His tone was flat, not pleading, warning, or demanding.

I didn’t reply. I did, however, follow his ascent up the stairs with my eyes. Best. Ass. Ever. I think the fact I could appreciate that showed some progress in my mental state.

I didn’t hear everything Xander and Spike talked about upstairs, but I did hear the alarm in Spike’s voice when he said, “That’s really not necessary.”

“I’m here, you have no hot water. Take advantage of my abilities while you can.”

I could hear their feet stomping closer and closer and began panicking. If Xander found me there, he’d stake Spike before we could explain. Hmmm... A couple of days earlier my only worry would have been that Xander would realize I’d been having sex with Spike. I was either growing up or losing my mind.

I fell on all fours and crawled under the bed, scrunching my nose in disgust over what I was about to do. Happy to find no creepy crawlies, I turned so I faced the way Spike and Xander would be coming from, and pulled the covers down so they hid me but left an opening big enough for me to scope out most of the room.

It was extremely funny seeing Spike’s boots do a couple of pirouettes when they reached the floor. Don’t know what he’d expected me to do, but it probably involved using Xander as a means of escaping.

Once Xander’s sneakers had disappeared through the hole in the wall, aka bathroom “door,” I waved a hand at Spike.

He leaned down and whispered, “If I untie you, will you leave without dusting me?”

I frowned and replied at the same volume. “I don’t want to dust you.”

“You sure?” When I said I was, he replied, “Your friend might.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

Xander called out, “Just as I thought. I’ll be done with this in two minutes. Don’t even need my tools.”

“Why do you think I’m under the bed?”

He sucked in his cheekbones that way that makes his smile look sinister, then asked, “You didn’t feel dirty enough?”

I didn’t get to reply, because Xander came out right then, barely giving me time to hide again. “A hundred plus years and you haven’t learned how to turn on a water valve?”

Spike let out the most fake, forced bark of laughter ever. “Guess I had a Harris-moment, eh?”

There was some more insult trading, and Xander was finally out of there.

Spike helped me out of my hiding place. “There’s hot water now. Harris had good timing. He came by to ask if I needed help patrolling,” he said before kneeling by the foot of the bed. “I’m going to unlock these, so you can move better. Can I trust you?”

“Xander wanted to help you patrol?” I didn’t even dignify his question with an answer.

His lips quirked in a half-smile. “Crazier things have happened. Maybe.” He didn’t undo the padlock until I pinky-swore I wouldn’t make a run for it.

***

A fresh pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt were waiting for me when I came out of the shower. Spike wasn’t. I was just as disappointed as I’d been that he hadn’t joined me under the water jet, despite the fact I’d taken my time lathering and rinsing my body and hair twice. The clothes didn’t fit, exactly, and I would die before letting anybody else see me in them, but they were comfy.

I wrapped a towel around my wet hair and went upstairs to find him. He wasn’t there.

There was a note on the door of the crypt saying, “Went for pizza and kittens. Stay.”

I did. I channel-hopped until he got back, and then he taught me how to play poker.

My bedtime story was “The Princess and the Frog.” I was beginning to see a pattern in his choice of readings. I hid my smile in the pillow and let him bring the characters to life with his magical voice. When I felt too drowsy to keep my eyes open, I said, “This bed is huge, you know. I promise not to try anything.”

He found it funny a Slayer would be protecting his virtue, but he lay over the covers.


Tbc.