Part One

Willow's mouth hung open. "He said that?" she questioned. "Spike actually told you he loved you?"

"Well, no," admitted Buffy. "I didn't let him get that far. But I could see the words coming."

Joyce pursed her lips. "Honey, did you give him…" she paused, trying to adequately express herself about the situation her daughter had found herself in, "…some kind of signals?"

"I didn't mean to," said Buffy, knowing how lame it sounded. "I do beat him up a lot. For him, that's like third base." Willow and Joyce shared a look, making Buffy slump further into the couch.

"Do you…" Willow began to ask, carefully picking her words.

"There are feelings, right?" said Dawn, who suddenly appeared in the living room doorway and clearly had no intention of being careful about how she sounded at all. "I mean, on your side?"

Joyce jumped at the intrusion and yelled at Dawn for creeping, swiftly sending her back to bed only to ask the very same question of Buffy herself.

"Well, I…" the Slayer stammered. "I don't know, exactly."

"Oh, Buffy," said Joyce and Willow in unison. Then Willow said, "So, what, you felt like he was gonna say something, but you didn't let him? How?"

"Me?" said Buffy. "Oh, I was big and brave with the running away." Upstairs, she could have sworn she heard Dawn snicker.

"You have to talk to him again."

Buffy groaned. "But what do I say, Will?"

Before Willow could suggest anything, Joyce said, "You have to tell him something. It was very rude of you leaving him like that."

"I know." Buffy groaned again.

"Hey, maybe if you go find him, he'll start talking again and do the hard part for you," Willow suggested, over-enthusiastic smile pasted across her face.

Buffy really wasn't so sure. The mere idea of it was making her blush, which her mother and best friend wasted no time or delicacy in pointing out.

"You do like him, don't you?" Willow prodded.

"Dawn thinks so," she Buffy, sighing. "Honestly? I hadn't really thought about it until she brought it up earlier. She was like fishing for a confession, and way eager to tell me that Spike felt the same. I think that's maybe why he tried talking to me today. Oh, god, she could have been telling him anything!"

"I'll deal with her later," said Joyce.

"Let's focus on what you're going to say now," added Willow.

Buffy looked between them. "You two make quite the team. I should start making you go double time on people when I need information out of them quick."

"You're changing the subject," said Willow and Buffy rolled her eyes.

"See what I mean?" she said to Joyce. "Relentless."

"Buffy," her mother warned.

"Okay, okay," she stood up. "Fine. I'll go talk to Spike, but if this goes wrong I'm totally blaming you guys."

"Wait!" Willow followed her out into the hall. "What are you gonna say?"

"I'll figure it out when I get there," said Buffy over her shoulder just as she reached for the door. Then, thought occurring to her, she paused and turned back to her friend. "Wait. There's something you could do for me."

Dawn watched from her bedroom window as her sister walked in the direction of Restfield cemetery, wondering what was about to go down and wishing she could be a fly on the wall.

Spike paced the lower part of his crypt, wishing he hadn't finished all his smokes already. Restless as he was, he could probably be doing with a walk to the store to stock up again, but he didn't want to risk running into the Slayer before he'd came up with a plan on how to best approach her.

"Rightly mucked that up," he chided himself.

"Spike?"

He jumped at the sound of his name called out in the darkness, then went to the ladder to go upstairs. Popping his head out of the hole between levels, his eyes swept over Buffy as she stood there, absentmindedly tapping her foot.

"Nervous?" he asked, smirking to himself when she too jumped at the reply.

"No," she said, stubbornly.

"Right," he sighed, pulling himself the rest of the way up and facing her properly. "This the bit where you punch me in the nose or toss me outta town?"

"This is the bit where we talk," she said, her gaze not meeting his.

"Oh," he took a step back, not sure where to look himself. "You, uh… I have beer, if you want?"

"I want," said Buffy, eagerly reaching for the proffered bottle and shivering slightly when her fingers grazed Spike's. "Sorry."

He nodded, fiddling with the top of his own bottle. "So…"

"I'm just gonna…" Buffy trailed off and perched herself on edge of his couch, surprised at how comfortable it was. Stealing herself, she then sat back further.

"Right," Spike said again, placing himself in a chair across from her. "Look, I'm sorry I've been a berk."

Buffy smiled shyly at him. "I wasn't exactly on it myself."

"Took you off guard, didn't I?" he said, adding "Did Dawn say anything to you?" at the same time as Buffy asked, "What did she tell you?"

They laughed at the jinx, then looked away from each other again.

Buffy swiftly stood up. "I should go," she said, putting the untouched beer down on the makeshift coffee table.

"Wait," said Spike, rising too.

After an endless moment, the Slayer asked, "Do you wanna patrol?" and Spike smiled at her, making things bearable again for a bit.

Kicking, punching, scrapping. Spike was in his element. What's more, Buffy was in it too, and she was glorious. Vibrant, violent. She was life, and damn was he drawn to it. Sick as that was, he didn't even care anymore.

"That all you got?" Buffy snarked, panting as she stood over some arrogant fledge who thought he could best her. She was playing, but he was too dumb to see. Spike grinned at the exchange as he sat back at watched it happen. It was damn good to see the Slayer play.

Pulling the vamp up, she shoved him down again just as hard. "You new in town, huh?" He only hissed in answer and she parried a feeble blow back at him. "Last chance," she warned, her words coming out in a singsong way.

The vamp's eyes widened and he stopped growling as Buffy bore down on him, driving the stake home. She thought realization of his untimely end had finally dawned on him, making him quiet in his final moment, but Spike had stiffened too.

In an altogether different kind of singsong voice, Drusilla whispered to herself as she stepped out of the shadows and snatched the Slayer up by the hair.