He was on his third episode of “Rendez-View” when he heard the keycard sliding into his door on the outside. He didn’t even have time to go on the defensive before he smelled her: vanilla and spice and fresh air, with just the slightest hint of grease in the background. He watched the handle turn, the door swing open. And sure enough, there she was, shorts and tank top showing off entirely too much creamy golden skin. He swallowed thickly.

“Everything all right?” he asked her, hoping that maybe Dawn just needed more ice cubes.

“Um… yeah, actually.” She sounded surprised, and she smiled a little. “Can I come in?”

Fucking hell. Well, he supposed fourteen hours without pain was about as much as a vampire could ask for.

“If you like. `Rendez-View’ is on.” She was walking towards him. He tried not to notice.

“See, there’s this firefighter bloke who just wants to meet a--” And then her lips were on his, her hands framing his face, and all of his brain functions simply shut down. He let himself sink into it, just for a second, taste that incredible fire that had a sweetness to it now, revel in the fact that she had come to him--

And then he remembered that she’d hate herself in the morning, and the pain of it hit him like a stake to the heart. He shot to his feet and pushed her away, more roughly than he’d intended, and heard the bed creak under her weight. Oh, wonderful. Buffy on my bed. Now there’s a helpful image. He stood for a second with his back to her, trying to get his control back. “Changing the rules, pet,” he grated finally. “I’m just the wheels, remember?”

“Spike.” Her tone was almost reproachful. “Spike, look at me.”

He steeled himself, turned around. She was sitting calmly on the bed. He couldn’t read the look in her eyes. “Today was… exactly what I needed.” She seemed to be searching for words. “And you knew that. And… you made it happen. And so I--”

“Thought you’d fuck me? Out of gratitude? Out of pity, ‘cause I didn’t get my trip to Disneyland? Well, I’ve been on that ride already, Slayer, and there’s a kick at the end that just gets me every time.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Her eyes flashed. He’d gotten to her, and he hated himself for it, hated her for making him say it. Spending the night wanting her would’ve been bad enough; arguing with her was a hundred times worse. Thus ends the holiday, he thought grimly.

“That’s not what I meant.” Her voice was low, intense. “What I’m trying to say, Spike, if you’d shut up for two seconds and let me finish, is that yes, I am grateful to you. You knew what I needed, and you went to a lot of trouble to make sure I got it. That means a lot to me. Especially considering… how things have been between us lately.” He started to say something, but she cut him off. “Spike, if you don’t shut your mouth and let me say this, I swear to God I’ll kick your pale English ass right here and now.”

Even through his frustration, some little corner of his mind was cheering her on. He loved it when she got all bad-ass and commanding. He inclined his head to her with a mocking smile, held both hands out in front of him in a gesture of peace. “All right, luv, no need to get violent. I’m listening.”

She blew her breath out between her teeth, frustrated. Glaring at him. “You really do make things incredibly difficult sometimes.” He didn’t respond, and she took another deep breath. “OK. So I’m grateful. And it’s not the first time I’ve been grateful to you. And until today, I haven’t really been able to deal with that. Because we’re not supposed to be… close. You’re a vampire. I’m the Slayer. You kill my friends, I kill yours. You don’t have a soul. But somehow you love me. And I don’t understand how that’s possible.”

He was utterly serious now, all trace of his smile gone. He’d have been holding his breath if he had any, hanging on every word. She rose from the bed, came to stand in front of him.

“And then we kissed, and then we got all… pelvic, that night in that building.” He could see a hint of embarrassment flicker across her face. “And I liked it. A lot, actually, though I’m probably going to seriously regret telling you that.” He grinned at her, but kept his mouth shut. “And I felt bad for liking it, because it meant you had some power over me, and that scared me. I didn’t know if I could trust you. I didn’t know what would happen if you got the chip out. I still don’t. And with everything else going on at home, with Dawn and Willow and Xander and Giles and slaying and work and all the rest of it, it was just too much. Like Dawn said earlier--my brain was full.” He nodded, understanding, and she continued. “But then we came here, and everything just… went away for awhile. It was like I’d wanted it to be when I was invisible, only better. Dawn was happy, and getting to do normal kid stuff, and I didn’t have to worry about saving the world or taking care of Willow or wondering why Giles hasn’t called. It was just fun, and easy. But not bad-easy, like I’m ignoring stuff I should be doing. It was good-easy. Like I could be normal for a little while. And you gave that to me, without asking for anything back, even though I know you wanted to, last night. And then when Dawn and I came back here today, watching you with her, I realized that here, now… you fit. You belonged with us.”

He would’ve been less shocked if she’d clocked him with a two-by-four. She laughed a little, presumably at the look on his face. “Believe me, it was a jump off the old logic bridge for me, too. And I’m pretty sure that once we go back, it’ll get all complicated again, and we’ll go right back to wanting to kill each other. Part of the deal, I think. Because I’ve got a lot of stuff I need to figure out back there, and I can’t deal with it all at once, and let’s face it, you and I aren’t exactly in a life-or-death situation here. And those things have to come first. But tonight, everything that’s been confusing me was just… gone, and it seemed so simple: you could hurt me if you wanted to. But you haven’t. You’ve helped me. You love me, you love Dawn. She loves you, and I want to be with you. It feels right. And it’s not like I get these moments of clarity every day, so I didn’t want to let it go without at least… telling you.”

They stood there in silence for a moment. He couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought, the wheels in his head spinning on ice as he tried to take it all in.

“Spike?” He didn’t move. “Um, you can talk now. If you want to.”

“I… ah…” Women love a man who gibbers, he told himself with disgust. “Sorry, pet. Just kind of a sudden U-turn, you know? I was all set to play the poof and not touch you.” He was silent for a few more seconds, then, “So what you’re saying is, you want to go to bed with me, even though you might regret it later? Not sure I want to play that game anymore, luv. It hurts both of us.”

“Well, I don’t want to go back to having all these responsibilities again, but I have to. And we’re both taking a risk. I might regret this tomorrow, you might get a chipectomy tomorrow and go back to being evil. I don’t know. But being with you, right now, feels right. And nothing has felt right in a long time. And if there’s anything I’ve learned in my freak show life, it’s that you have to take these moments when you can get them.” She laughed a little. “Eat, drink, and be merry, ‘cause tomorrow you may jump into a dimensional portal to save the world from a crazy hell goddess.”

Spike looked at her, then looked away, mulling it over. She did still seem calm, and… balanced. He couldn’t think of another word for it. There was a possibility she might not even stake him in the morning. After all, she and Dawn did need a ride back to Sunnydale. Then he realized: What the hell is there to think about? Who are you, bloody Peaches? The girl wants you. You want her. She’s offering. Take her, and damn the consequences.

He pinned her with his gaze, gave her his most dangerous smile. He saw the pulse in her neck speed up. “Admit it, pet. You just couldn’t resist me.”

Then she laughed, a real laugh, and her mouth was on his and her hands were everywhere and he couldn’t think, just murmured incoherent love as they tumbled back onto the bed.

**********************

Afterwards, to his amazement, she stayed, curled up with her head on his chest and her soft hair tickling his shoulder. He had to admit that, if this kind of thing was his reward, he’d be willing to take the dreaded Path of Virtue a lot more often.

She was tracing his bicep lazily with a finger. “Mmm,” she murmured sleepily. “You’re so cool and hard. Like a statue, all chiseled and perfect.” He froze, afraid if he moved, he’d wake her and she’d stop talking. He was discovering that half-asleep Buffy was a very good thing. She giggled. “What? I give you a compliment, and you go all freaky on me? I might do it more often, except that the thing about complimenting you, Spike,” and she turned her head so that she was resting her chin on his chest, her eyes meeting his, “is that I can’t tell you anything good about yourself that you don’t already know, and remind me of on a regular basis. So what’s the point?”

He growled at her, but his heart wasn’t in it. “You’re on dangerous ground, here, Slayer.”

“Ooh, are you going to punish me?” She grinned mischievously.

He shook his head, laughing in spite of the heat that went straight to his groin. “Knew you had it in you, Summers. You act all innocent, but inside, there’s a very bad girl just waiting to be let out.”

He kissed her, hard. She giggled again, and put her head back down on his chest. He stroked her hair idly.

“What about you?” she asked after a moment.

“What about me, pet?” He was drifting, content, only half-listening.

“Are you good, or bad?”

He nearly choked. “Geez, Slayer, you’ve got to work up to a question like that. Can’t just throw it in with the pillow talk like you were asking after the weather.”

“Sorry,” she replied unrepentantly. “Love me, love my pillow talk.”

He snorted. But he thought about it anyway. Finally, “I dunno. Not a White Hat, really. Maybe gray, though. A really dark gray.” He could feel her smile. Then, nudging her, “You of all people should know, though, Slayer, things are messier than that. They don’t tend to come all neatly packaged up in black or white.”

She sighed. “I know. Wish they did, though. It would make it a lot easier to know who to kill, and who not to kill.”

He didn’t think he needed to answer that, so he just kept quiet, enjoying the way she felt in his arms. Her breathing deepened. She was falling asleep.

“Buffy.” He shook her gently. He hated to disturb her, but he knew he had to.

“Hmmm?” She tightened her hold on him. He felt something twist in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was giving this up.

“Not that I don’t want you to stay, luv, but I don’t think little sis would be too keen on waking up alone in the middle of the night.”

That got her attention. “Dawn. Right. You’re right.” She kissed his chest, then sat up, hair tousled and glorious. She was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in all of his long existence. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“My pleasure,” he replied, raising an eyebrow suggestively. Then, more seriously, “You too. This was… I never expected it.”

“I know.”

“And I won’t forget it.”

“I know. Me either.”

“If you do, I’ll remind you.”

She grinned dryly. “I know. Probably right in the middle of a screaming match.”

“No doubt.” Then, as she seemed to have no intention of moving, “Go. Before I decide I’m not going to let you.”

She nodded, leaned down to kiss him one last time. Then she stood up, and he watched in silence as she pulled her pajamas back on. She sighed. “Back to reality tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” No escaping that.

She took a deep breath, moved toward the door. Then, as she was reaching for the handle, she turned back around. “This helps, though. A little.”

“I’m glad.”

She smiled. “Good night, Spike.”

“Good night, Buffy. Sleep well.”

And then she was gone.

He was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep. But it was amazing what kind of a toll shock, anger, bliss, pain, and really good sex could take on even vampire strength. Mercifully, almost as soon as he collapsed back onto the pillows, he fell into thoughtless blackness.