There really was no freak-o-sode in the morning.

What was surprising was that I didn’t have to make an effort to calm myself when I rose to consciousness snuggled cozily against Spike’s chest. His smooth skin was cool under my cheek, its stillness calming me instead of wigging me out.

Hoping against hope that he was still asleep and wouldn’t feel me move, I softly touched my lips above his left nipple. There was no ulterior motive to that gentle kiss; I simply felt like it.

Doing what I felt like, first thing in the morning, made me grin.

Maybe I could see what else I could get away with, just because I felt like it…

My arm was wrapped around Spike’s waist, my fingers dangling tantalizingly close to the small of his back. I knew he had the softest down in that spot above his waistband; I’d come across it by accident one of the few times I’d allowed myself to caress him after one of our savage fuck-sessions.

That was in the past.

I moved my fingers infinitesimally, ghosted them over the fine hairs, and Spike arched his back.

The movement was probably involuntary, but I liked the way his front stretched against me, relished the feeling of hardness that poked at my stomach through the denim he wore. Letting out what I hoped sounded like a sleepy mumble, I raised my leg and folded it over his thigh.

I caressed his back again, and this time when his body bowed, I pressed back, only barely ashamed that I was rubbing myself against him when he’d told me he didn’t want us to go there again. I knew we couldn’t go there; we were way beyond there. We were in the here, and the now, and things would never be the same again because I…

His hips rocked against mine once more. And again. And again, until the rocking became rhythmical. Something about the languidness of the rhythm, however, showed me he still wasn’t aware of what we were doing. It was his body taking over, his cock, hard and seeking friction, that dictated his movements. I could feel my wetness sleek inside my shorts, my nipples hard, aching to be touched as they grazed his stomach–if I moved up a bit, pulled my shorts a little to the side, undid his fly...

It would be so easy to roll him on his back and sink around him, have him impale me before he realized what was happening. I could have Spike inside me again in a few short moments. He wouldn’t stop me then, even if he woke up.

So easy…

I stopped.

A low, whining sound rose from his throat, and his hand cupped my ass, pressing me to him. His body wanted it as much as I did, and that would have been more than enough for me a few days ago.

It wasn’t any more.

I slid my leg off him and rolled on my stomach. When I was sure there was no boob peeking out at him, I said, “Spike?”

No answer.

I elbowed him in the ribs and feigned sleep when he jumped awake.

“I can hear your heartbeat, you know,” he said to my back. “I know you’re up. What’s the matter?”

Gathering the covers to me, I turned to him, half-ready to say I knew he was up, too; maybe we could continue from where I’d stopped. Seeing the concern in his eyes, I mentally scolded myself for being a horn-dog. “Nothing. I woke up a while ago and was bored.” I beamed at him, hoping he’d see it as reassuring despite the fuck-me-now glint in my eye. “What are we doing today?”

He returned the grin and–unless I’m completely delusional, which I haven’t been since high school–his own eyes were hooded with something more than drowsiness. If he ran his tongue over his teeth, I’d jump him. Maturity is good and all, but suggest-y Spike is irresistible.

He must have noticed how my gaze zeroed in on his lips, because he smacked them playfully, breaking the spell. “Tonight,” he corrected, “we’re going on a field-trip. You’re going to see that the world keeps turning even if you’re not spinning it with your own two hands!”

Pfft! I knew that already! Right then, my brain caught up with what he’d said first. “Field-trip?”

He nodded. “And we’re going under cover.”

I so wasn’t going to like that. “And what’re we doing till then?”

Again I thought I saw something on his face. It was the look I imagine the Big Bad Wolf had on, just before he ate Little Red Riding-hood.

“What?” I shoved one hand under my pillow and crossed my fingers that he was thinking what I was.

He wasn’t, naturally. Or, if he had been, he changed his mind.

We ended up sparring. Again.

Meh.

***

“A baseball cap and a leather duster? That’s how you’ll camouflage me?” I snorted. I guessed it was better than having to paint my face in shades of green, but seriously? “Am I going dressed as you?” When he didn’t reply, I amended, asking the most important question. “Where am I going?”

“You’re not going dressed as me, because I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this.” Spike flicked the visor of my cap with his index finger. “Besides, this isn’t all.” He rummaged in his own duster’s pocket until he came up with a pair of sunglasses. “Here.”

At least they were Prada. Hey! “Where did you get these?”

“We’re going home.”

“Right! Now you answer my previous question. Figures. You want to save yourself the tongue-lashing you’ll get if you admit you stole these!” I put the offending item on and ducked into the bathroom for a look in the mirror. They weren’t bad. Still. Taking them off, I graced Spike with a full-force glare. “Home? My home?” He was honestly going to dress me up as a clowny version of himself and take me to my house where I could–would, most probably–run into the people I wanted to see the least?

“I’d never try to avoid a tongue-lashing from you, Slayer.” It was a lie, but before I could say so, the beast waggled his eyebrows and did that thing where he sucks his cheeks in.

Sigh!

I forgot what I was yelling about.

***

First off, leather dusters are not for warm nights. I felt like I was brewing Buffy-stew on the way to my house and dreaded the thought of what I’d smell like to Spike’s sensitive nostrils. Oh, and I didn’t wear the glasses.

Secondly… I really didn’t know what to do with the information our field trip provided me.

For a couple of hours, I stood outside my own house and watched from the shadows while other people lived a life of which I should have been a part, but from which you could barely tell I was missing.

Tara made dinner, and Dawn first did her homework and then helped Willow set the table without bitching about it. She always bitched about helping me, but there was a small tilt to her lips as she put each plate in place, then framed it with cutlery. I noticed Tara and Willow weren’t talking much, and when they crossed paths by the stove, in front of the refrigerator, Tara averted her eyes. So Tara still hadn’t forgiven Willow and her controlling tendencies. I didn’t think she’d have moved back in so soon, and maybe she hadn’t. Good for her, if that was the case; she deserved better. Funnily enough, I hadn’t for one minute blamed her for my resurrection.

Xander came in the kitchen, tossed a horrible plaid shirt on the back of the chair at the head of the table, and kissed Dawn’s forehead before patting Tara’s shoulder and messing Willow’s hair.

Seeing them like that made me want to patch things up with my friends. I wanted to have the Scooby Gang on my side again. I wanted family dinners. Family. They were a family, and I was the outsider.

I looked at Spike, unashamed to let him see the tears about to spill down my cheeks. “Why did you bring me here?” They weren’t tears of sadness, but of anger. I was livid with him. “Is this another way to show me how they don’t need me? How I belong with you, in the dark?” That same morning I’d felt so close to him that I wasn’t willing to risk what was developing between us for my own pleasure, yet now I was wondering if maybe all his efforts had been a scheme not to fix me, but to break me to his own mold.

“They don’t need you.” His tone was serious. “Not to be their protector. They can eat without you reminding them to–even without you bringing home the bacon.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

I glanced into the kitchen again. They were sitting around the table now, my own seat taken by Anya, whose entrance I’d somehow missed. I could have been in there with them if it weren’t for Spike turning me against them. I narrowed my eyes and fisted my hands, ready to honor the memory of the bad-old days and beat him into a pulp. At the back of my mind I knew my anger had nothing to do with Spike’s making me face my issues with my friends. That had been long over-due, and I realized he’d done me a favor by urging me to confront them. No, my fury stemmed elsewhere. If he’d made me trust him, if he’d made me open up to the possibility of… something between us so he could lead me to this, if this was another betrayal–

“They do love you, you know. Despite everything, they need to know you’re well.” He lowered his head to look up at me through thick eyelashes that I couldn’t achieve even with tons of mascara. “You don’t belong with me,” he admitted with a sigh that made me itch to reach out and touch him. I clenched my fists tighter on my sides. “They are your world. But, like I said, you don’t have to spin it for it to keep turning. Your people worry about you, but they’re not your responsibility. They shouldn’t be. You stretch yourself thin trying to be everything to everyone, when they can make do by themselves. Does it scare you to not be needed?”

Eyebrows arching in disbelief, I asked, “So this is them worrying? I’d hate to see them not giving a crap.” I pretended not to hear his last question. It terrified me not to be needed, because all I knew was how to be the people's champion. What was I if they didn't need me? Could I be just Buffy? Would they love me then?

Spike closed his hands over mine and worked my fingers loose before tangling them with his. “Your friends act cool so as not to worry your sis, and Nibblet knows we’re here. I have to report to her daily.” Seeing my eyes widen in shock, he added, “I omit the parts where you sexually assault me, grope me forcefully, and beg me to make a sex slave out of you, of course.”

A chuckle caught me unaware. “Of course.” My sister wasn’t happier without me. My sister still loved me. And there was still hope for things to be worked out with Xan and Will. Our friendship would have to be rebuilt from scratch, on a new basis, but there was hope. If we managed to reconnect, I’d be their friend, not their leader. Dawn’s sister, not her mother. Accepting that made me happy, really happy. I inhaled deeply, the oxygen reaching and rejuvenating every fiber of my body. I winked at Spike. “So what is there left to tell her?”

His joking mood disappeared. “I tell her you’re doing better and that you’ll be home soon.”

“So when my week is up, I’m out on my ass?”

He turned the visor of my cap to the side and leaned closer to whisper, “And I’m out of town. Like you wanted it to be from the start.”

Using just as hushed a tone, I said, “You don’t have to go.”

His nostrils flared, his jaw tightening. “Why would I stay?”

It was my opening. My moment to show him things had changed between us.

My lips tingled with the proximity of his. I could kiss him with the slightest tilt of my head.

“Why would I stay?” he asked again, and his face was begging me to give him the right answer.

If I told him I needed him, I made it all about me. What was more, he might think I meant sexually or to keep me from going self-destructive again–if I was completely out of that phase yet. Saying I wanted him would have the same ring to it, and I couldn’t utter something more than that, not without leaving both him and myself to wonder if I really meant it.

“Stay because you want to,” I finally managed. “And you should have what you want.”

“Why?”

To that I had an answer, one that had been brewing in the back of my mind since I’d overcome my need to hate Spike in order to tolerate myself. “Because you’ve earned it.” Because I wanted him to have it.

Closing the distance between our lips, I kissed him the way I had when he’d thought I was a robot, when he’d saved my sister from a crazy, murdering bitch of a God. In a way, it was our second first kiss.

The look he gave me now held the same measure of amazement and awe as it had then, but I was sad to see the hope in it was squashed. Spike knew what I needed better than I did, but he really wasn’t all that sure about what I wanted, despite his cocky assurances to the opposite.

It no longer mattered. He’d been my rock and had held me steady while I’d rediscovered who I was, among other things. I finally knew what I wanted.

He blinked, blinked again, opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again to say, “Right. Friends, then? Once this is over?” Not the wittiest thing to have ever left his mouth.

I was about to answer him when out of the corner of my eye I noticed Dawn standing by the sink, giving me the thumbs up. Before any of the adults in the kitchen could spot us, I waved at her, grabbed Spike’s hand, and sprinted out of there.

***

He didn’t tell me a story that night. I didn’t mind. I didn’t need a fairytale to go to sleep.

Plastering my front to his side, I whispered, “What if I’m not completely cured day after tomorrow?”

“You will be,” he said. “I don’t know what sort of state I’ll be in, though.”



Tbc.