“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Buffy asked as she climbed onto the bed, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back as she spoke again. “I don’t like upsetting you, and I don’t know what I did...”

“Nothing,” Spike answered sharply. He sighed when he felt Buffy stiffen against his back and begin to withdraw. “You didn’t do anything,” he added gently, bringing his hand up to cover hers and halt her withdrawal. “It’s the chip,” he explained when he felt her relax once more. “Knowing what they’ve got.” He indicated toward the stairs with a tilt of his head. “What they can share that we can never have.”

“You mean biting?” Buffy asked, a small frown creasing her brow.

“Yeah. That, and the trust...”

“I trust you!”

“You mean you trust that the chip won’t let me hurt anyone. It’s not the same. Don’t get to prove to you that you can trust me, do I?”

“No,” Buffy said, standing and moving to in front of him, hands on her hips and glare firmly fixed in place as she continued. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that I trust you, Spike. I may not be Willow, but I know enough about computers and stuff to know that they break. It used to bother me; that one day the chip would stop working and I’d have to stake you.” She reached out to stroke his cheek, her face softening. “But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I realised that I’m not worried about that now. I know you won’t hurt anyone.” She smirked and added, “Not even Xander,” before sobering. “I trust you, Spike. Don’t you get it? I couldn’t feel this way if I didn’t.”

He stared at her open-mouthed for a second while his brain fully-processed her words, then reached out, pulling her into his lap and claiming a kiss that went far beyond the soft, almost-chaste kisses they’d shared so far.

After a few minutes, Buffy twisted in Spike’s arms to straddle his lap. One hand untucked his shirt and snaked beneath it to map his back, while the other tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Neither were prepared for the intensity of their reactions, and as the denim beneath Buffy hardened, she ground against him, his name escaping in a soft moan as she clung to him, her nails digging into smooth, silky skin.

“Buffy,” Spike gasped and broke away, panting harshly as he stood, depositing Buffy on the bed where he’d just been sitting.

The lustful shine in her eyes faded, clouding with confusion and hurt, and he reached out, cupping her cheek tenderly to lessen the sting of his actions. “’m sorry, love. But if you still wanna take things slow...” He smiled wryly and shrugged. “Course, if you’ve changed your mind about that...” he added with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows and allowing his gaze to drop and wander appreciatively over her body.

“No.” Buffy shook her head, smiling sadly and dropping her gaze to the floor. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” she added, lifting her eyes once more to meet his. “I shouldn’t have...”

“You didn’t,” Spike cut her off. “We did.” He stroked her cheek rhythmically with his thumb, his fingers sliding into her hair as he held her gaze, his eyes bright with emotion. “And I’m not sorry.”

Buffy smiled, closing her eyes for a moment and leaning into his touch.

He scooped her up and carried her to the head of the bed. Pulling the covers back with one hand, he continued to hold Buffy as he slid them into bed and pulled the covers back up in one fluid motion. “Get some sleep, love,” he told her, dropping a kiss to the back of her head as he snuggled against her back, his arm draped across her waist. Buffy twisted in his embrace, reaching up to brush a gentle kiss against his lips and whisper, “Good night, Spike,” while trying not to think about how easy it would be to just...

~*~

“So... there’s two of you?” Buffy woke to the sound of Xander’s voice floating up from the house below.

“Hard to believe so much perfection can exist at once,” Spike replied, and Buffy smiled at the mental picture she got of the smug look on his face as he gloated. “Ow, what was that for?” he continued indignantly, adding after a moment’s pause, “It just so happens I was referring to you.”

“Yeah, right,” this world’s Buffy responded with a snort.

“What are they like?” Willow asked. “I mean, are they like exact copies, or...”

“Outwardly they appear to be identical,” Giles said. “Their experiences, however, do seem to have differed somewhat, leading to some slight changes in their characters.”

“I’m guessing the fact that they’re sleeping in the guest room and not the cage means they’re not homicidal,” Faith said.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Giles assured the newcomers. “If anything I would say they are more timid,” he offered. “Less confident than the Spike and Buffy we’re used to. But, of course, much of that could be attributed to their present circumstances—being dragged from world to world in search of Dawn and not knowing if they will ever find her, or what her condition will be if they do... I can only imagine how much of a strain that must be.”

Buffy’s cheeks reddened at finding herself the subject of their discussion, and she slipped out of Spike’s arms, rolling out of bed and banging purposefully into the dresser to alert those downstairs to the fact that they were awake.

“Morning,” Spike mumbled sleepily, stifling a yawn and running his hand through sleep-tousled curls as he sat up.

“Morning,” Buffy replied, simultaneously noting that the conversation downstairs had ceased, and that a sleep-rumpled Spike was too adorable for words. Fighting the urge to crawl back into bed with her oh-so-kissable vampire, she inclined her head towards the stairs and said, “The rest of the gang’s arrived.”

“Great,” Spike said. “Xander Harris. Just what I need to start my day.”

“You never know...” Buffy began, her eyes widening mid-sentence as she clutched the amulet. “Grab our stuff,” she called over her shoulder as she flew out the door and down the stairs.

Spike snatched up Buffy’s backpack, settling it on his back as he stuffed their shoes into his duffle. Slinging the duffle over his shoulder, he quickly glanced around the room for anything he may have missed before following Buffy out the door.

“We’ve got to go,” Buffy called out as she ran past the living room door and into the kitchen. Everyone had gathered in the hall by the time Spike met her back at the base of the stairs, her hands filled with the blood packets from the fridge. She unzipped her pack and stuffed them inside before turning to their hosts.

“Thank you,” she said, looking from face to face. “You have no idea how much it means...” She captured and held Jenny’s gaze, her hand closing automatically around the warm, pulsing amulet. “Thank you,” she repeated. Spike’s fingers entwined with hers, and she turned to look at him, seeing the hope she felt reflected in his eyes as they began the new incantation.