Later that night:

Spike woke from a peaceful, dreamless sleep feeling renewed and rejuvenated. Buffy’s words to him, ‘I love you, William, I really love you,’ filled his heart with a joy he’d rarely felt in his century-plus on this earth. He’d loved Dru with all his heart, and he knew she cared for him in her way, but she’d never been one to declare her love, and she’d never cared if she hurt him emotionally. In fact, she seemed to take a bit of pleasure in taunting him. Dru never seemed to understand the concepts of fidelity and loyalty to the one you loved. But, no matter how often she cheated on him, he always took her back when she returned to his side.

‘I’ll never hurt you,’ Buffy had assured him. Something deep down inside Spike grasped at that promise like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver. He clung to those words, feeling fairly certain that she meant them. The look she’d had in her eyes when she said it told him as much as her words had. He didn’t think Buffy would ever treat him like Dru had; she would never tear his heart out and toss it aside like so much garbage… right?

He looked at the digital clock by the bed and tried to work out where Buffy was. It was after eight – a look at the lack of light seeping in around the blanketed window told him it was night. He remembered Buffy saying something about picking up Dawn from school … but had than been today or yesterday? How long had he slept? Had Buffy gone on patrol or was she simply downstairs getting dinner for Dawn?

With great effort, he pushed himself up to a sitting position and leaned against the headboard. His chest still hurt like a mother where Glory had dug into his body – the rest of him wasn’t much better. His skin was a canvas of barely-healed cuts and dark, swollen bruises. His muscles were stiff from the punishment he’d taken, and it hurt to move everything except perhaps his toes. His toes seemed functional. It was a start.

He began looking over the edge of the bed for his jeans when a knock came on the door. “Spike? Are you up?” Dawn’s voice called through the closed door.

“Uhhhh … Yeah, pet – just give us a minute,” he called back, searching frantically for a sheet or blanket – they’d apparently all gotten knocked on the floor, out of easy reach.

“I’ve got you some dinner,” she called back and he saw the doorknob turning.

“Bloody hell,” he moaned, grabbing a pillow and laying it over his hips quickly.

“We got pizza,” Dawn continued blithely as she swung the door open. “Buffy wasn’t sure what you liked, but I told her hot and spicy stuff, so we got you the Spicy Sicilian. It’s got pepperoni, ground beef, Italian sausage, onions, and a ton of fresh Jalapeño peppers. Is that…” Dawn stopped talking when the door swung open and her eyes swept over him.

“Oh my God! I’m … so …” She was gonna say ‘sorry’, but the word slipped her mind. In fact, all words slipped her mind. Here was Spike, naked in Buffy’s bed. Naked. Completely naked – wearing nothing but a ... pillow?

“Sounds brilliant,” Spike filled into the silence. “Be a pet and hand me the sheet then,” he requested, unruffled. “Reckon it’s on the floor down t’ the foot o’ the bed.”

Dawn didn’t move. Didn’t appear to have heard him.

“Niblett? … Sheet?” he repeated.

Dawn jumped, as if someone pinched her, nearly spilling the mug of blood that was on the tray next to his pizza. “Right … sheet,” she stammered as she tried to figure out what to do with the tray in her hands.

She started to set it on top of the pillow covering his hips, but stopped, mortified. Then she turned to put it on the dresser, but there was no room there. She turned back around, trying to keep her eyes off Spike’s battered and bruised, but absolutely beautifully bare, smooth, hard, glorious body. She swallowed nervously, trying to drag her eyes away, but failing miserably. Stupid eyes.

Finally, when she came within reach, Spike grabbed the tray from her hands and set it on the bed next to him. Dawn once again forgot what it was he wanted her to get. It was something important ... or was it? Maybe not so much. Naked Spike. Wow ... how do you get abs like that? Was there any hair on his body at all? Her eyes drifted down to the pillow, wishing for a sudden burst of x-ray vision, you know, just to check for ... body hair. She flushed bright red and finally forced her eyes to the floor, at least momentarily.

“Sheet, pet,” Spike repeated when she just stood there, her eyes flicking from his body, then embarrassedly to the floor, then back again.

“Huh? Oh! Right!” She jerked back to herself, picked up both the sheet and blanket from the floor, and reluctantly pulled them both up over his legs and up his body. Spike took it from her hands and tucked it around his waist, completely covering the sides of his bare legs and hips, which could’ve been seen past the pillow if viewed from the doorway.

“Ta ever so,” Spike offered as if she’d just told him the time and not seen 94.5% of his bare body. He picked up the tray and put it on top of the pillow, which thankfully still rested under the covers and atop his groin.

Dawn smiled at him nervously and licked her dry lips. “H-how are you feeling?” she asked, only stammering slightly, as she backed up and leaned on the wall at the foot of the bed so she could look straight at him as he ate.

“Brilliant,” he lied.

At Dawn’s doubtful look he added, “No worries, Platelet. This’ll all heal. Nothing t’ get in a dither over. Seen worse, I have.”

Dawn nodded, unconvinced, but forged on to something different. “How’s the pizza? Buffy was gonna cook, but I told her you were in no condition to eat her cooking. I mean … your outsides are already beaten up, you didn’t need your insides torn up too.”

Spike chuckled, picked up the pizza, and took a bite. He nodded his approval as he chewed, then washed it down with some blood.

“Well, at least she knows how t’ order pizza, yeah?” he observed after he swallowed.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I ordered the pizza. The only thing Buffy really knows how to make is cereal, and even that can get dicey sometimes, what with the confusing expiration dates on the milk cartons. She’s totally useless in the kitchen.”

“Well, I reckon big sis has other talents. Can’t be good at everything, yeah?”

Dawn snorted and rolled her eyes. She just started to contradict that when Buffy appeared in the doorway.

“Dawn! I told you I’d bring his food up later!” Buffy scolded. “He’s supposed to be resting! Did she wake you up?” Buffy asked, looking worriedly at Spike.

“Noooo!” Dawn whined, answering the question for Spike. “He was already awake!” she protested huffily. “You just didn’t want me to bring it up ‘cos you wanted to take all the credit for getting that spicy pizza for him!” she accused.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Dawn – I’m perfectly happy to give you credit for getting that gross pizza, believe me!” Buffy defended, looking at her sister. “You don’t have to eat if you don’t like it,” she advised Spike. “We have … normal pizza too.”

Spike started to say that he did like it, but was cut off by Dawn. “He happens to like it – he told me so! Look – he’s eating it!” she pointed out, waving a hand at Spike and the half-eaten slice of pizza.

Spike started to agree, to say that he did actually like it, but was cut off by Buffy. “Did you ever think he was just eating it to be nice to you – he might not like it at all!” Buffy argued. “You’re standing over him like a vulture, what’s he supposed to do?”

Spike opened his mouth again to say, no … he really did like it, but was stopped by Dawn. “Oh please! Give me a break! You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of getting that for him,” Dawn accused. “I also added a dash of Tabasco to the blood,” she claimed.

Spike started to say that he noticed that too, and it had a nice kick, but was interrupted by Buffy. “Oh, c’mon, Dawn! The day I’m jealous of you is the day the devil will need ice skates.”

“OI!” Spike yelled, stopping Dawn’s retort just as she’d open her mouth. “The pizza is brilliant, the blood’s got pizzazz, and I was already awake.”

Buffy sighed. “You don’t have to take her side just because she’s the youngest, ya know.”

“He’s not taking my side because I’m the youngest! He’s taking my side ‘cos were actually friends and I’ve actually taken time to learn what he likes!” Dawn insisted.

“Noooo,” Spike piped up, before Buffy could retort. “I’m not taking any sides – I’m not that bloody daft. Just saying, the food’s good. Could probably do with a spot o’ quiet t’ eat by, though … better for the digestion.”

“See, now you’ve got him pissed off,” Dawn accused.

“I got him pissed off!?” Buffy shot back as she and Dawn headed for the door.

“That’s right! We were just having a friendly conversation and you had to come butt in like a jealous biatch…”

“Hey!” Buffy objected as the bedroom door closed behind them. “I don’t want to hear language like…”

Spike stopped listening as their voices faded down the stairs. He took a breath and let it out slowly. What the bloody hell was he gettin’ himself into here? He’d never really been around both Buffy and Dawn together much – mostly it was just one or the other. He shrugged and took another bite of the spicy pizza thinking that you couldn’t have everything. Good food, a soft, warm bed, and a heavenly body to share it with … reckon he could put up with a spot of bickering and out-of-date milk from time to time.

**~**

Spike had set the tray with the empty dishes on the floor and lay back down after he ate, waiting for Buffy to come back in. It was after eleven when he heard the door open and close quietly. He didn’t open his eyes, but could smell the fresh scent of soap and some kind of fruity shampoo – mango perhaps or papaya; he always got those two confused. In either case, she definitely smelled good enough to eat.

He suppressed a grin as she tiptoed quietly to the bed and got in, trying not to disturb him. Buffy slid over and had just curled up against his side, when he spoke. “You smell good enough t’ eat, pet,” he murmured against the top of her head, which she’d rested on his shoulder.

Buffy jumped back. “Shit!” she hissed, keeping her voice low. “You scared me!”

“Vampire, remember? It’s kinda my raison d’être: Scare the girls and make ‘em cry or whatnot.”

“I thought that was Georgie Porgie,” Buffy corrected. “And it’s ‘kiss the girls and make them cry.’”

“Bugger. Don’t reckon I’m doing it right, then. Let me give it another go,” Spike teased as he leaned down and touched his lips to hers.

Buffy’s hands found his cheeks and held him captive as he kissed her. She moaned in approval, only releasing him and pulling back when she began to feel her lungs burning for oxygen.

“Well, that’s a pisser, innit?” Spike asked with a smirk. “Apparently, I got no bloody idea how t’ snog properly. Not a single bloody tear.”

Buffy chuckled softly. “Guess you’re just gonna have to keep practicing,” she suggested with a coy grin.

“Mmmm … now that sounds like a bloody solid plan to me,” he agreed, leaning in and kissing her again.

When the kiss broke, Buffy cuddled up against his body again, resting her head on his shoulder as he snaked his arm around her. She started to lay one of her legs over his, but stopped, afraid of hurting him.

“It’s alright, pet,” he told her when he felt her hesitate and pull back. “Love feeling your body against mine.”

Buffy smiled and snuggled closer. She draped one leg over his and one arm across his hard, flat stomach, avoiding the worst of the bruises there. “How are you feeling – really?”

Spike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Lots better thanks t’ you and little sis. The pizza and the blood really did a world o’ good – and they tasted brilliant.

“I won’t be running marathon t’night, but … I reckon I’m a bit more mobile than I was this afternoon,” he hinted.

Buffy nodded against his shoulder. “Spike … I … ummm … I think that we should just … you know, sleep tonight. As in … well … sleep. I mean – Dawn’s right next door and … I seem to not be very stealthy at the … ummm … good parts and … that’s not really something I … well … she’s young and … maybe later I can get Willow to do a muffling spell on the room, but…”

Spike laid a finger over her stammering lips. “No worries, pet.”

“I just don’t want you to think I don’t want to … you know … ‘cos … well,” Buffy cleared her throat nervously. “I mean ... this afternoon was … wow. It’s just…”

“I got it, Slayer. No worries,” Spike interrupted her, squeezing her closer against him. “I’ll limit ravaging you to school hours … and sleepovers. The bit does go on sleepovers, yeah?”

Buffy laughed and nodded. “Yeah, sometimes. Thanks for … understanding.”

Spike shrugged his shoulder under her head.

“Can I … make a confession?” Buffy asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Does it involve whipped cream, handcuffs, and crotch-less leather pants?”

Buffy laughed and swatted lightly at his stomach. “Noooo.”

“Ahhh, well then, I reckon you’d be safe. Father Spike, at your service.”

“Dawn was right tonight – earlier. I was … jealous of her. She knew … what you liked. She knew what to get on the pizza and she thought of the hot sauce for the blood and … I don’t know any of that stuff,” she whined.

“Doesn’t that seem … somehow wrong?” Buffy asked as she rose up onto one elbow and looked down at him. “I mean … I love you but … I don’t know what you’d like on your pizza. Am I …” she stopped and sighed, shaking her head. “Shouldn’t I know that? I mean … if I really love you, shouldn’t I at least know what kind of pizza you eat?”

Spike pulled her back down against his body and she settled back into position as she had been before. “Hearts don’t care about bloody pizza toppings, Buffy. Hearts only care about what they want … what they feel. They aren’t logical; they aren’t pragmatic or sensible or even practical.

“You’re letting your mind try and control your heart, pet, and I can tell ya from experience, that don’t ever end well,” Spike advised.

Buffy sighed but didn’t say anything as she tried to process this advice. Her whole life she had operated under the theory that you should get to know someone … really know everything about them, or at least what they like on their pizza, before you fall in love. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? Of course, maybe that only worked for normal people; maybe Slayers were different. With her track record, it wasn’t hard to believe that she’d been going about it all wrong.

After a few moments of silence, Spike asked, “What did your true heart say about the enormous hall monitor when you first met him? Do ya even know?”

Buffy chewed on her lip. Yes, she knew. She’d told Willow about it at the time and … Willow had pointed out the fly in her logic ointment. Logic. She’d let her mind decide. Riley was safe and reliable and a logical choice for her – but there was no raging fire, no desperate, burning desire.

Buffy cleared her throat. “Yeah … I … that is to say, my heart felt like …” Buffy stopped, not really sure how to explain what she felt. It sounded a bit twisted, even to her.

“What? Tell me, Buffy. True confessions … Father Spike, remember?”

Buffy sighed heavily.  “I don’t know. I just felt like … true love needs some pain to fan the flames. Like that’s where the fire would come from. That real love and passion go hand in hand with pain and fighting … it seems – stupid … demented.”

“No – not stupid. It’s the demon inside, Buffy. Can’t you see now? Can’t you see where that feelin’ comes from? Oh, Slayer, when I’m better, I promise you … everything your heart’s craving – pain and fire and passion, I swear I’ll show you how to touch it,” Spike vowed.  “Can’t you see? It’s not about bloody pizza; it’s about intangibles – it’s about that place inside that you’ve never shared with your little Scooby mates. You can share it with me, Buffy. I understand you – they can’t, not completely, not like I can.”

Buffy blinked back a wave of emotion that swept over her suddenly. It did make sense now that she looked at it with the knowledge that she was made from darkness. She needed violence and pain; she took strength from them. But still, her mind protested, shouldn’t you know something more about him? Shouldn’t there be something tangible, rather than only relying on intangibles?

Buffy's heart and mind began waging a battle of their own within her. It was crazy to love Spike – the downside was limitless. Not only was he a vampire, he didn't even have an official soul. Hadn't she gone down this road before? Been there, done that, got the corpses to prove it? But there was something inside her – the demon or the darkness or something – that simply refused to accept that this was wrong. Or maybe it was the wrongness that it found so right. She felt like she was banging her head on a wall – or something even harder: her darkest, deepest heart. After several minutes of silent parrying strikes and counter-strikes back and forth between heart and mind, a brilliantly simple, yet diabolical solution came to her.

“What’s your favorite color?” Buffy asked from left field, propping herself up on one elbow and turning to look at him.

Spike furrowed his brow a moment, taken by surprise, then answered, “Green – the exact shade of your eyes. What’s yours?”

Buffy’s lower lip jutted out in a dangerous pout. “No fair! You took my answer!”

“Your favorite color is the color o’ your own eyes?” Spike asked, cocking a brow at her. "That's a bit egotistical, even for a Slayer."

Buffy rolled said eyes to the ceiling. “No, of course not … it’s blue – the exact shade of your eyes, silly.”

Spike grinned and bit his bottom lip. “Yeah?” he asked, sounding more like a schoolboy with a crush than a century-old vampire.

“Yeah,” Buffy assured him, holding his gaze and reaching one hand out to gently touch his bruised face.

After a few moments … or it could’ve been a few months, Buffy wasn’t sure, she shook herself out of the trance his eyes had put her in and continued her interrogation. “Favorite fruit?”

“Well, that’s a harder choice, innit? I’d have t’ put Freddie Mercury at the top o’ that list. Elton John’s bloody talented but not much of a looker … and Prince, can’t leave him out,” Spike began.

“Spike!” Buffy chastised. “Politically incorrect much? Fruit! Like the kind you eat!”

“Well … reckon those would still qualify, luv,” he smirked.

“You are sooo bad,” she moaned. “You know what I meant.”

Spike laughed and nodded. “Right then, favorite fruit. Whatever tropical concoction you wash your hair in, that’s my favorite.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know what it is,” she pointed out.

“Right – well, you tell me, and that’ll be it. What about you, then?”

Buffy furrowed her brow. “That’s actually a hard decision. I guess … banana. They taste good, they’re versatile, portable, you don’t have to wash them or cook them before you eat them, no refrigeration required, they go great on ice cream, and are awesome dipped in chocolate.”

“And they’re very phallic. Could use one as a dildo in a pinch.”

“Oh, is everything about sex with you?” Buffy asked in mock agitation.

“Uhhh ... not really a fair question, Slayer,” he objected. "Hard t' think o' anything else with the most beautiful woman in the bloody world layin' next to me – warm and naked." Spike took her hand and laid it atop the blanket over his groin, pressing down lightly on the hard bulge beneath. Apparently another part of his anatomy other than his toes was still very much in working order.

Buffy flushed, her cheeks coloring crimson. "Oh, God! I didn't think! I'm ... sorry! I should ..." she began to pull away and get up, but Spike held firm to her small hand, tugging her back.

"You should stay ... please," Spike pleaded very quietly, his voice a deep rumble in the quiet room. "If ya run away every time I get a boner around you, you'll be running forever, luv. Can't help m'self - you're just so bloody ... " Spike's voice trailed off, lost in thought.

"Pretty? Charming? Adorable? Cute? Cuddly? Enticing?  ... Fetching?" Buffy provided, grinning hopefully. "Strong enough to break your bones if you don't pick one soon?”

Spike laughed lightly, pulled her hand to his lips, and began dropping gentle kisses on each of her fingertips. "All that and more, luv. A bloody goddess."

A silly grin spread across Buffy's lips and mischief twinkled in her eyes.

“I didn't mean to ... distract you like that,” she purred, laying back down and snuggling against him in a very distracting manner.

“Only nine more hours before school starts,” she informed him before continuing as if her diabolical interrogation hadn't been interrupted, “Favorite Mouseketeer?”

“Christina Aguilera. Yours?”

"Really?" she asked with surprise, looking up at him. "I would've thought you would've gone old-school with Annette..."

"Pffft!" Spike snorted. "'Ave you seen Christina Aguilera? C'mon ... turnabout: yours?"

“Justin Timberlake."

Spike cocked a speculative brow at her.

"Have you seen Justin Timberlake?" Buffy countered with a smirk.

"Favorite Fairy Tale?”

**~**