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E-mail Hilary

Author: Cindy

Rating: PG-13

Summery: Spike is injured and Buffy makes him feel better.

"What is this thing called again?" Buffy landed several blows which didn't seem to phase the eight foot demon, then a roundhouse kick to its head which sent it staggering backward several steps, where Spike was waiting for it.

"Wal'kal'nuk demon, pet." Spike jumped up to grab a tree branch, swinging both feet at the slimy thing's head. His doc martens connected solidly and sent it reeling. Before it could recover, Buffy swung her axe and the demon's head fell to the ground. Its body landed with a thud. Right on top of Spike.

"Spike!" Buffy looked down to see Spike's upper body covered in Wal'kal'nuk from head to waist. "Damn whatchamacallit!" she shouted, dragging the offensive creature off her slaying partner. Spike lay dazed on the ground.

"I've been slimed." He tried to raise his head. "Is it dead?"

"No, it's probably pining for the fjords." Buffy smirked at him.

Spike shook his head to clear it. Did he just hear her right? "Buffy, did you just make a Monty Python reference?"

"Hey, you're not the only one who's hip with the popular culture, you now." She offered him her hand and attempted to pull him to his feet. He yelled in pain and dropped back to the ground.

"Not only have you been slimed, you've broken a few ribs."

Spike rolled to his side in a coughing fit. "No, I'm fine," he spat out.

"Yeah, I can tell by all the blood you're hacking up. Come on, tough guy." She put her arms around him and helped him carefully to his feet.

Spike leaned against her as they walked back to his crypt, her arm supporting him. This was the closest they'd been physically since he got back. No touching, except for the occasional hand up from the ground. They had gotten everything out in the open, made their apologies and cleared the air. Now they were patrolling together again. The two of them also seemed to have formed an easy friendship that he'd never thought possible, still with enough snarkiness to make it interesting. She seemed content with that, and if that's all they ever had, everything he'd gone through in Africa would still be worth it. Not that that's all he wanted. Especially now when he could smell her hair and feel her hands clutching him around the waist.

They got to his crypt and she kicked open the door, leading him to the couch.

"First, let's get you de-slimed. Take your shirt off," she commanded.

"Yes, general."

She shot a dirty look at him over her shoulder, then went looking for supplies. Buffy carried water, towels, bandages and tape to the sofa, where she found Spike struggling to remove his t-shirt.

"Here, let me help you with that." Her hands slid up his sides under his shirt, and she gently helped him remove first one arm, then the other, before pulling it over his head. He shivered a little as goosebumps formed on his skin.

"I didn't know vampires got goosebumps," she said.

"I'm, uh, cold," he answered, clearing his throat, as his voice threatened to betray him.

His shirt had protected him from the majority of the slime, but his face and hair still held remnants of the icky stuff.

"I need to wash your face. Close your eyes." Buffy dipped the washcloth into the basin of water, and wrung it out. Then she held his chin with one hand while she washed with the other. She used short, gentle strokes, first on his forehead and into his hairline, smoothing back his hair. Then across his cheeks. He laughed when she ran the cloth playfully down his nose, and opened his eyes to find her smiling at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

Suddenly she was straddling his lap.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

"I need to dry your hair. It's easier this way. Hold still so we don't hurt your ribs." She took a towel a began to ruffle his hair with it.

[Oh, God. O.K. Think of something else. Anything else. Anything but the fact that the girl you love more than unlife itself is running her fingers through your hair and pressing her body against you and…STOP! Think of something not sexy. Think of the whelp. Yes. That helps. Not enough, though. Think of the whelp naked. Blech. Now I'm nauseous. But still turned on. Answer her, you git. She's talkin' to you!]

"What's that, love?" Oops. He hadn't used that particular pet name since his return. But she didn't seem to mind. If you were going by the way her fingers were tugging on his curls, that is.

"I said, you're letting your hair grow."

"Uh, yeah, I prob'ly need a haircut."

"No, don't," she said. "I like it this way." She looked down into his eyes.

"O.K." he said. `I am a big poofter' is what he thought.

She dismounted carefully, avoiding his ribs. "Time to tape you up. Can scoot up a little? It's easier if I'm behind you." She reached around him and handed him the tape. "Here, hold this for me."

It was then she noticed that his hands were trembling.

Her arms encircled him. "I need to check your ribs first," she said. He could feel her breath tickle his ear and her breasts pressed up against his back. Her warm hands moved over his skin, gently checking for damage.

"Looks like three on the right." She grabbed the bandage and began to wrap it around him. "This too tight?" she asked.

"No, love. It's fine," he said, biting his lip.

She wrapped the bandage around him, each time brushing her fingers against his skin as she passed it from one hand to the other in front of him. Then she smoothed it down against his back. When she was finished she took the tape from his still shaking hands and secured the wrap. "All finished," she said.

He sighed and began to turn around, but she put her hands on his shoulders, holding him in place. "No, stay where you are. Please. It's easier for me to talk to you like this."

"What do you want to talk about, Buffy?" He drew in his breath sharply as she spoke into his ear again.

"Us."

"Oh." Brilliant response, mate.

"You've shown remarkable restraint tonight," she continued.

"Is this a test, then, pet?" he asked. He wanted to turn around and look at her, but he wanted her to keep talking more.

"Didn't start out that way, but I've been flirting with you shamelessly and you haven't even touched me."

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "You were flirtin' with me?"

"Haven't you ever had a girl flirt with you before, Spike?" she asked, her lips practically touching his ear.

"Yeah. But not you." Her hands now covered his, their fingers entwined.

"Have I mentioned that I've fallen deeply in like with you?" she asked.

"In like?" he chuckled. "Could you define that please?"

"In like," she said, her hands squeezing his, "a state of abiding friendship and affection," her hands moved up his forearms, and over his biceps, "combined with intense physical attraction," her hands moved over his broad shoulders, "with the potential for mutual trust," she kissed the nape of his neck, "and love."

"Buffy, I really need to touch you now."

"Okey dokey" she said.

She was on him in an instant, pushing him back against the sofa as she traddled his hips once again. He hissed in pain when her knees made contact with his ribs, and she began to apologize profusely.

"Just kiss me" he said.

She held his face in her hands as her mouth descended on his, kissing him desperately, hungrily.

"I've missed you so much," she said into his mouth. He felt her tears on his face and pulled back from her a little.

"Hey," he said, "why are you cryin'?"

"Same reason you are, I hope." She brushed a tear from his cheek with her thumb. He hadn't even realized it. "I'm crying because I'm so happy," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his.

He nodded. "Yeah," he whispered back, "same reason."

He kissed her this time, soft and languid, and she felt herself drifting away to that place that only he could take her. She moaned in protest when he broke away. When he put his lips on her neck, though, she sighed and held his head to her, loving the feeling of his hair between her fingers. He kissed his way down to the juncture of her neck and shoulder and settled there.

Buffy's hands traveled down his chest, gliding over the bandages that she'd wrapped around him, to the top of his jeans. The fingertips of one hand slipped inside and she slid them along the smooth skin just beneath the waistband. He growled in her ear and she giggled.

She sat back and her hand cupped the side of his face as she looked deeply into his eyes. "My vampire," she whispered. "My sweet, sweet vampire." Spike growled again and kissed her hard. She reached for his belt buckle.

"No, love," he said, catching her hands and bringing them to his mouth, "it's too soon." He brushed his lips over her knuckles.

Buffy's brow furrowed in confusion. "No? But, I thought…oh. Oh! It's that whole Victorian morality thing, isn't it?" she said. She sat straight up. "Because now you have the soul. You must think, you must think I'm a bad girl - a hussy or a wench or whatever you people call it!"

"I think nothin' of the kind!" he said. Spike dropped her hands and grabbed her face. "I think you are the most beautiful, sexy, perfect creature I have ever seen, and you can tell how bad I want you, can't you?"

She nodded, eyes wide, bottom lip caught between her teeth, and rocked against him. He groaned.

"You vixen," he teased, and was treated to a wide, genuine smile. "I just think we should take our time, baby. I want us to do this right."

"Me too," she nodded. "You're right. We should just start over, take it slow this time." She lay her head on his shoulder as his hands moved up and down her back. "Spike?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Can we still make out?"

"Absolutely."

Sometime later - it seemed like hours - Buffy tore herself away, flushed and panting. "I should go. The old resolve is now unresolvy."

"I hear you love," Spike said, running his hands through his hair. "Give me a minute, I'll walk you home."

"No, you're all hurt, and me, slayer. Besides," she gave him a wicked smile, "if you come with me, I might never get home." She sauntered to the door but stopped when he called after her.

"Buffy?" She turned around, her eyes shining in the candlelight.

"Yeah, babe?"

His breath caught at her casual use of this term of endearment. How he loved this woman. "I've been in existence nearly a century and a half now. And in all that time, I've never been as happy as I am right at this moment."

Her hand unconsciously went to her heart, and she stood there looking at him, trying to think of something appropriate to say. Words would not come, and finally, she gave up and simply blew him a kiss.

It didn't matter to him – the look on her face said it all.

She stepped out the door and began to close it, then poked her head back in. "Hey, everyone's coming over for pizza and videos tomorrow night. Want to join us?"

"Sure," he answered.

"Good." She paused. "I want to introduce them to my boyfriend." With that, she shut the door and was gone.

Spike leaned back against the sofa, a goofy smile on his face.

"That's my girl."

the end