CHAPTER SEVEN
 
With a wave, she went out the door and ran to the manhole, yanking the cover off and scrambling down the ladder far enough to be able to pull it back on. She started to work her way down the ladder when she felt strong hands on her waist.
 
“Gotcha, Slayer. You can let go.”
 
“Good thing I knew it was you,” she said, releasing the ladder and letting him lower her to the damp floor.  “I’ve been known to stake first and ask questions later when something grabs me in the dark.”
 
“But you knew it was me,” he murmured in her ear, sliding his hands all the way around her waist and pulling her back against his body. “Didn’t you?” He nibbled on her neck, emboldened when she didn’t try to get away.
 
“I knew,” she whispered. “I always know.” She turned around in his embrace and leaned back a little. She was just able to make out his face in the dim light from the grate overhead.
 
“Buffy...” The pleading note in his voice was matched by the expression on his face as he moved his head closer and brushed his lips over hers. He kept his touch light and undemanding until she went up on her toes, the better to kiss him back. His arms tightened and he deepened the kiss, drawing it out until she had to break for a gasp of air.
 
“We... we should go back... to your place. That’s where I told Giles I’d be....”
 
Spike didn’t reply, but began to kiss her again, which led to much heavier breathing and Buffy’s legs wrapped around his waist – this time having nothing to do with being carried. After several minutes of futile, if pleasant, rubbing against each other, she tore her mouth away and pulled back to look at him.
 
“We really should go back. It’s wet and yucky here.”
 
“So?”
 
She just stared at him until his eyes lit up.
 
“Are you sayin’ what I think you’re saying?”
 
“All I’m saying is, it’s wet and yucky here.  Back in your crypt there are rugs.... and don’t you have a bed to put together?”
 
Without a verbal response other than what sounded very much like a hissed “Yessss”, he pushed her around to his back and began running back the way they’d come.  It took only a few minutes at vampire speed to reach the torch, still burning where the tunnel from his crypt met the sewer.
 
Buffy dropped to the ground almost before he stopped moving and began to walk toward the flickering light from the only candle still burning.  Spike moved ahead of her and quickly dug out a few more candles and lit them, putting the room in a warm light that softened the look of the roots and bones sticking out of the walls.
 
“I hope Giles brings food. I’m starving,” Buffy said, staring up the ladder and wondering what might be in the refrigerator; her other need to get back to the crypt was apparently forgotten for the moment.
 
“I’ll go shopping for groceries tonight,” Spike said, pulling the pieces of wood away from the wall and laying them down on the floor.  “Where do you think it should go?”
 
Buffy turned back and surveyed the room.  “Well, it’s your bedroom, and your bed... but I think back in that alcove maybe?”
 
“Good as done,” he said, tossing the bed pieces where she’d pointed. While Spike went about figuring out which pieces went to what, Buffy amused herself dragging the rugs around until she had arranged them in a pattern she liked.
 
“That either looks a lot better, or really bad.... I’m not sure which.”
 
“Doesn’t matter what it looks like,” Spike said, taking a glance over his shoulder. “Only matters that it doesn’t feel like cold mud when we walk on it in bare feet.”
 
“Are we planning to have bare feet?” Buffy’s voice was teasing, but he gave her a frightened look anyway.  When he noticed the smile she was trying to hide, he growled and went back to his work.
 
More growls followed as the bed pieces seemed reluctant to go together in the way they were supposed to. “If there are pieces missing, I’m gonna gut that demon and string his innards up in a tree.”
 
Buffy wandered over and looked at the jumbled pile of wood. “Why don’t you lay the pieces out on the floor where you think they should go? Then you’ll be able to see if something’s missing.”
 
He stopped his growling and stared at the jumble of bed parts. “I would have thought of that sooner or later.”
 
“Of course you would have,” Buffy said in that understanding, but totally dishonest, tone used by amused women from time immemorial. “I was just helping you think of it.” She patted his head and smiled as innocently as she could manage.
 
“Think you’re smart, don’t you?”
 
She sighed, her smile fading quickly. “I think I’m going to have to be. Smart, I mean. Riley showed up at Giles’ while I was on the phone. He was looking for me!  And he’d already been to the dorm and to my mom’s—remind me to kick his ass twice for that, please. My mother is off limits.”
 
He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
 
“Not from you, moron. From bad guys who are trying to find me.”
 
“Sometimes that was me, luv,” he said as he went back to work.  “Wouldn’t have harmed your mum, but I was there lookin’ for you some of those times.”
 
“Good thing for you, you didn’t find me then. I would have kicked your butt too— I think that piece goes over there....”
 
“Or I would have bagged my third slayer,” he growled, glaring at the offending piece of wood.
 
Buffy just snorted and walked closer. She picked up what was obviously a bed rail and placed it on the opposite side from where Spike had just placed the left rail.  As she straightened up, she asked as casually as she could, “Do you really like my mom?”
 
He blinked in surprise. “You know I do, Buffy. She reminds me a bit of my mum. Why?”
 
“So, you would have been all right with killing me right in front of her? Would you have done that to her?”
 
He froze, the railing he’d been about to attach to the headboard halfway to the connection.  He set it down and sank back on his heels.
 
“Honest answer?”
 
“That’d be nice.”
 
He blew out a deep breath. “I’ve got no idea, luv.  Wanted to kill you so bad... or thought I did, anyway.  I don’t know what I would have done if your mum was watching.”  When Buffy stiffened and walked away, he shook his head and sighed.  “You asked for the truth, Slayer. I thought I wanted to kill you. It was what I did—fight slayers... and kill ‘em if I could. And you—you were the one that foiled all my plans....” He shook his head. “I thought I really hated you.”  He paused and stared at her rigid back, before continuing,  “Also thought you were the bravest and most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And that the poof was crazy to not want you anymore just ‘cause he lost his soul.”
 
He got up and walked to her, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder. “I’m trying to be honest with you, Buffy. You’d have staked me in a heartbeat if you’d had a chance, wouldn’t you? Probably thought you’d done for me when you dropped that organ on me and left me to burn.  It’s what we are, Slayer. Or what we were.  I’d have felt like a right wanker if I’d killed you in front of your mum. Would never want to cause her that much pain. But I can’t tell you I wouldn’t have done it. It’s not who I was then.”
 
She turned around and stared at him sadly. “ ‘Then’ was only a month ago. Who are you now? If you didn’t have the chip, who would you be?”
 
“If I’d never got it? I don’t know. I really don’t. If I put any stock in Dru’s visions, I think I’d probably be just where I am... Wanting you so bad I can’t see straight.  But it might have taken me a bit longer to figure it out.”   He tipped her chin up and made her see the honesty in his eyes. “But if I lost it now? Nothing would change. Except that I’d be able to help if you needed backup up against humans.”
 
When she didn’t respond, he sighed, dropped his hand, and turned back to his task.
 
“Why don’t you go upstairs and watch for old Rupert?  I’ll just finish this up and join you in a bit.”
 
Buffy stood, immobile, watching him as he struggled to fit the rail into both ends at the same time.  She bit her lip, then walked over and grabbed the headboard, holding it steady while he set the rail in place. With both of them working, the bed was soon put together and ready for the mattress.  Still without speaking, they each took a side and carried the bulky package over to the bed. While Buffy held it up, Spike ripped the paper off, tossing it onto the floor. 
 
Once the mattress was in place, Spike picked up a package of black sheets and frowned. “It says these should be washed first. Seems bloody stupid, if you ask me.”
 
Buffy laughed. “The dye comes off on everything that touches it until they’ve been washed at least once.  We—you’ll—be black all over if you try to sleep on these.”
 
“Are you sure?” He looked disappointed.
 
Buffy grimaced. “I’m sure. Just don’t ask me how I know...”
 
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Funny story?”
 
“Funny... embarrassing... Nothing you need to hear.”
 
Buffy took the sheets and tossed them onto a small table near the ladder. “I’ll take them with me when I get out of here. Maybe mom will wash them for you.” She frowned and looked over at him again. “Come to think of it, it’s probably a better idea if you ask her to wash them than if I do. The less my mom knows about you, me and beds, the better.”
 
“Good point. Don’t want her digging out that axe again.” He patted the bed beside him.  “We don’t really need sheets, do we?”
 
“I thought you wanted me to go upstairs and watch for Giles?”
 
Spike shrugged and looked away. “Wasn’t sure you wanted to be around me just then. Thought I’d give you a way out, is all.  If that’s not the case....” He patted the bed once again and turned a hopeful smile on her. But when she didn’t move or smile back, he sighed heavily.  “My mouth got me into trouble again, didn’t it?”
 
Buffy shook her head. “No. Not really. You were being honest and... and that’s a nice quality in a....” She trailed off and stared at him.  “I don’t know what to call you.”
 
“Spike? William? I’ll answer to either one.”
“Very funny. You know what I mean. What are you—we? We’re not enemies any more. But we’re not really... but we did... and we... I guess we probably will again. So that makes us sort of friends? Except I don’t sleep with my friends....”
He sat up and put his feet on the floor. “You were doing fine when you got to the ‘probably will again’, but sounds like that idea is fading fast.”
Before she could respond, he held up a hand for silence, then flowed to his feet and was up the ladder with Buffy right behind him. He growled at her to stay behind, but she just glared back and shook her head. Muttering under his breath about ‘stupid bints what don’t know how to hide’, he opened the door just enough to see who was there without getting hit by the ray of sunlight shining into the dusty floor.
Jim was standing outside, looking around nervously. “I have a message for you and for the Slayer. Is she still here?”
“I’m here.” Buffy stepped in front of Spike. “A message from who?”
“The man you called. He called back and asked me to tell you to stay here. He said he couldn’t come right now, but he would drive by the gates later and drop off some food for me to pick up for you. He said you two should come back—‘the safe way’ whatever that means—tonight. Unless he tells you it still isn’t safe. Something about thinking his apartment’s being watched?  Anyway, I’ll pick up your food when I take the trash out later. If I think somebody’s watching, I’ll take it into my house and you’ll have to come and get it after dark. But I don’t know why anybody would watch me.” He peered over her shoulder at Spike. “Do these people know where you live?”
Spike shook his head. “Don’t know how they could. If they’d seen me coming in and out of here, they would have already bagged me again.”
“Okay. It should be fine then. Give us a couple of hours and then listen for my knock.” He stared at Buffy. “I’ll bet if you lived here all the time, I could come and go at night without having to worry about vampires.”
Buffy smiled at him. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. But I promise to make this a regular part of my patrols.”
“I’ll keep it swept clean,” Spike added. “They’ll learn bloody fast not to play in my backyard.”
Jim nodded and turned away, getting on the lawn tractor he’d used to get around the big cemetery.  Spike, reaching first for the metal exterior gate, pulled it closed, then shut the heavy wooden interior door.

“So there you have, Slayer. Orders are to stay here all day. Whatever will we do?”