Warming Up To New Things

Part IV

Set in an AU early season four where Spike and Drusilla briefly reunite in Sunnydale, when Spike suddenly- or not so suddenly- realizes that he's left a bit cold by his lady love, and he's starting to warm up to someone else. Could that someone feel the same?

"We should have been more clear on what we shall be doing. Is that right? That doesn't sound right. What we will be doing? Anyway, we should have figured out that part." They stood huddled under the coffee shop's narrow green awning.

"I guess. I've got a new place. You could come see it, if you fancy."

Go to Spike's place. Alone. No one knows where I am. I don't think that's a good idea. Yet. "You could come with me?"

"To do what?" he asked, reaching into his pocket for smokes and a lighter, then putting them back. Humans had lungs that worked.

"I don't know," Buffy confessed. Heat stirred up, vulnerability and fear cooled it down. "I'm actually really tired."

"I can walk you home and you can sleep," he offered sensibly.

"I'm tired of getting into things too fast, things that don't work out, that I can't get out of."

"Ah," he said knowingly. "Wait. Does that mean… you're afraid of gettin' friendly, or that we might get 'friendly'?" Her blush was answer enough. He coughed and might've managed a blush himself. "Wanna nick an umbrella from the uni library's lost an' found an' just walk a bit?"

"Yes!" her enthusiasm surprised them both. "Wait, how do you-"

"Tricks of the trade, Slayer."

There was only one umbrella left, and they walked tightly pressed together to share it. It would be so corny and cute- if they weren't having an incredibly strained conversation.

"Why didn't you kill me? Or let her?"

"I don't want you dead. I like you alive. I don't want to be your enemy, so stands to reason there wouldn't be killing. Okay, why didn't you stake me later? You knew where we were. You knew I'd let you go, but you didn't have anything to lose by takin' out a threat when it wasn't in top shape."

She had figured out that Spike might be worse for wear after Drusilla got through with him. "You helped me. I can't repay help with hurt."

"I like that line, Luv."

"Thanks, it's true."

"What about now?"

"What about now?" Buffy asked.

"Well, this has been quite the fun evenin', but I'm still a vampire. We want to be friends, or somethin' like it. I'm waiting for your terms."

"Don't kill anyone?"

"What about drinking?"

"If you keep picking up my bar tab, knock yourself out. Although I probably won't be going there anymore."

"Drinking blood, Slayer," he hip chucked her, knocking her into a puddle and into the pouring rain, earning a shrill yelp and an elbow in the ribs. "I deserved that, I admit it."

"You have to drink blood. And you don't have a soul, so…" she stopped walking and got in front of him. "You wanted to do things differently. You explain how we can be friends, or something like it."

He hesitated. He could always change his mind, if this didn't work. But for as long as she'd give him a chance, and he'd give her the same, it was worth it. "Animal or human, injured, not dead. Not even severely injured. Knocked out and mildly inconvenienced."

"What about human, donated? Like blood drives and hospitals?"

"That goes to sick people. You want me to get bags that are for sickies?"

"It's better to be a pint light for sick people than have dead people, or people coming in for transfusions. It evens out. Plus, people can donate more, but dead people stay dead. Present company excluded."

"All right. Donated if available. Animal from the butchers. Mildly inconvenienced victims if needed. Willing donors welcome."

"No one dies?"

"No." One word. He didn't want to elaborate. His demon was sulking. His trouser furniture was being very pushy. He just wanted a chance to find something that worked, with someone with staying power. Friends. Or more.

"Okay. That's it, really."

"Wait, there aren't ninety seven other things you want old Spike to do to meet your royal wishes?"

Anger surged and died. All the other conditions in the world didn't help the guys stay around. He wants to be here. He needs to stay alive, such as alive is to him. "No."

They started to walk again.

"Willing donors?"

There are some people who enjoy it. There isn't one here, but there's a bunch in LA."

"Isn't one what?"

"Blood house. Bite house."

"WHAT? Ew, what is that?"

"People who give willingly, to a vampire who is in it for the blood and the pleasure, not the pain and the kill- they have-" this was awkward. "Like a whore house, Slayer. But without the sex. Well, sometimes without the sex. Actually, rarely without the sex. It feels too good to-"

"Stop now. Please."

"Sorry."

More steps. "Feels good to who?"

"Both. Don't look at me dirty, I've never been to one, but I might have to if I don't get enough the other way. Animal blood isn't as filling."

"What about some from a friend?" Shit. That sounds like I-

"Are you the friend in question?" Spike stopped walking in shock. Now that she was holding the umbrella, he was immediately drenched as she kept moving. With a mutual gasp, he caught up and she turned back.

"No, I wasn't. I mean, I wouldn't. I wasn't saying that, I just wanted to know." Buffy hesitated. "Angel bit me. Once, it was to make him better. He was poisoned."

"I remember that. He nearly drained you, didn't he?" Her tense, jerk of the head was all the answer he got, but it spoke more eloquently than any speech.

"The Master bit me. Didn't take a lot."

"You're no stranger to bites. But they never felt good. I can get why you wouldn't want to-"

"Totally do not want to," she was firm.

"Okay, okay, I wasn't asking,: he was huffy.

"Sorry."

"Me, too. Get touchy sometimes. Feel like a nancy playin' nice. But I still intend to do it."

"Is it less of a nancy thing - I'm thinkin that means sissy- to go to some blood house?"

"It at least looks like you're there out of choice, for fun."

More silent steps, and the rain continued to pour. "The people like the feeling?"

"If it's done right, it's a good feeling. Can we stop talkin' about this part? I'm gettin' squirmy." He rolled his shoulders restlessly.

"I just don't want a-" she almost said "a nice guy like you." Spike was not a nice guy. Yeah, but he's not some "sleep with everything that moves" skirt chaser. He doesn't deserve to get used for someone to get off on, and I don't like the idea of him starting to - to prostitute himself for food to survive. That's like- heartbreaking and third world country-ish. "I just don't want things that are bad, or degrading, to happen to you, because you have a- I don't know what it is. Heart, maybe? Can you have a good heart?" He kills. But he loves. He protects and he saves and he chooses to stop doing evil things, or at least he wants to try to. She leaned to him suddenly. Battered, broken hearts, both of them.

"You're worryin' about me?" Like she worried about the rest of her little white hand pack. Maybe not just the same, but it was a start. Yes, there was something good in his heart. She was worming into it, and he'd stopped hating the fact.

"Yes," she admitted in a tiny voice that was almost blotted out by a crash of thunder.

"I'm a survivor."

"How come your cuts haven't healed yet? Was it how hard she went, or because you haven't been eating much?"

"Both, maybe. Why'd you suddenly go there? Your head is a maze, and I need a map."

"You survived a lot. Me, too."

"Friends should have things in common."

"We do. Weird, huh?"

"Weird, but pretty nice, Slayer. Wanna do this again sometime? The coffee and the walk? Minus the jerky bastard crashin' cocoa time? Or with the pillock if you like, 'cause that was fun, windin' him up."

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"I suppose."

"As a friend, or as more?"

"Bloody hell, Slayer, the questions. Puts me off."

"You're honest with me. I like that."

"What if I said yes?"

"To which one?"

"To either one, what would you say?"

Buffy put the umbrella into his hand, but didn't release it. They were holding the handle together, fingers slowly intertwining. "I don't want to get hurt anymore."

"Full agreement with you. No one gets hurt. In either scenario, in case you're wondering which one."

"I say yes. To both. Either. Slowly?"

For a second there, it seemed like they didn't want to move slowly. It felt like she'd swung her hips to his and hit the gas. But that's how mistakes are made. Rushing. Giving the heart away without being able to control it, or control what's about to happen to it. She doesn't trust me. I trust that she's a good one, but I don't trust that she won't hurt me someday, by breaking the heart if I give it over to her before I'm sure. I shouldn't be having these thoughts. Hearts aren't brains.

"Slowly is fine."

"I believe you won't hurt me, it's not that I- well, it's not a really concrete belief yet, but maybe-"

"I get it, Slayer. You're a good person. One of the righteous ones. I still worry that my heart'd get mangled if I give it to you."

"What? I would never! I'm not like- I mean, I get that not all good people are good at being in love."

"Angel," he coughed, earning a less than delicate step in his insole.

"It's too soon to talk about- about hearts," Buffy whispered, half-choked on the oddity of the conversation.

"Friends, then. Maybe friendship will be a warm-up for somethin' more, someday. Not in a rush. Entirely," he gave her one dark, hungry look that reminded her that a beast was still there, a beast that found parts of her very desirable.

Thoughts of good things and lusty things, low down, dark, hot things chased around her brain. She returned the look, leaving them both frozen, too close together, too close to making a mistake, hitting the gas and forgetting all the words of caution.

"This is my dorm," Buffy whispered.

Her lips were so close that he could feel the puff of air when they formed words.

"Someday, maybe I'll get an invite," his own lips moved toward hers.

She could feel the tiny drop in temperature, the faint chill of his lips so close to her skin. "Do friends kiss each other goodnight?"

He moved forward, bypassing her lips to kiss her cheek. "I think that's how friends do it. If it was more than friends…"

"A warm up for something more, someday?" She returned his serve, pressing her cheek to his, shuddering at the contact, feeling his chest hit hers, his hand slowly press the curve of her back.

"Then, yeah. I s'pose they might."

"Might be a mistake." she was shaking. His hand stilled her. He twitched. Her hand latched onto the scarred neck, the neck that bowed but wouldn't break.

"I promise it won't hurt. I won't hurt you. If you won't-"

She cut him off, unable to stand it any longer. "I promise."

Lips crashed. The umbrella dropped and rolled, hands needed to grab hair and shoulders and anything else to keep them pressed together, locked in one moment where it was going to be good again- someday.

Lightning seared the sky, and they broke apart, panting. "See you tomorrow?" he finally managed to ask.

"Patrol at nine?"

"Cocoa at eleven?"

"It's a date," she smiled.

"It's a date," he agreed.

The end (for now).