A/N: This set two weeks after "The Body". When Buffy has trouble sleeping, she turns to an unexpected person for comfort.

Cold Comfort

She doesn't sleep at night. Her mind is filled with dark thoughts and she works them out the only way she knows how. Her dust count rises as she becomes more restless. She has to keep moving. Keep moving. Keep dusting. If she keeps herself busy, maybe the pressure on her chest will lift. Maybe then she can finally rest.

He watches as she spars with a tall vamp, effortlessly sliding her stake into his chest. Another one creeps up behind her, and his body tenses in anticipation of launch but relaxes when she spins on her heel and drives the stake into the vamp's chest. He hears the mangled scream and then the all-too-familiar sound of his kind bursting from within.

She is breathing heavily, head turning to each side as she looks for the next demon. He walks toward her then, black duster swirling around his legs, and says, "I think you can go at ease, love. The way you've been dusting vamps, lately, they're hanging back."

"They don't know to hang back," she answers. "Not when they first rise."

"Yeah, well, that last one made it-what-eight for tonight? I think you've gotten your fair share of jollies. Why don't you tuck in? I can cover the rest of the night."

"I don't want to tuck in," Buffy answered shortly. "I want to do my job. And my job is to fight evil."

"Even the Slayer deserves a night off," he said. "As much as I appreciate the company-"

"I'm not here for you," she snapped. "I'm here because there is evil to fight."

"Buffy-"

"There are more vamps to dust and as long as I'm out here, I don't have to think about my mom sprawled out dead on our living room couch. I don't have to think about how everything has changed and how Dawn doesn't have a mother anymore and I have no idea how to make that better! If I stop moving, I have to think about all of that and I don't want to. I can't, Spike. I just…"

He gingerly laid a hand on her shoulder. He saw movement behind her, a newly risen vampire climbing from his grave. The vampire rose from all fours, shaking dirt from his shaggy hair. "Another one to bite the dust, love," he said, tipping his head toward the vampire. "He's all yours."

She returned home at sunrise. There were a few hours until the rest of the house would wake up and she spent it wandering around the house, doing her best to stay away from the couch in the front. She did the dishes. She scrubbed the bathroom. It wasn't until she heard someone descend the stairs that she let herself sit down.

"Buffy," Giles said, wiping his eyes. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded. None of them knew she took to staying out all night. "I slept fine."

He smiled a bit, his eyes holding the same sympathetic glean that she had seen since they had buried her mother. She looked away and moved to the kitchen to make coffee. She heard him follow and was relieved when he proved to be a silent partner to her morning routine. He didn't speak until the coffee machine hummed.

"We should look over some financial things today," Giles said. "I know it's only been two weeks, but you will have to deal with these things."

"Okay," she said, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. She glanced back to see if he wanted one, as well, and when he nodded she pulled another from the back. It was his Kiss The Librarian mug and she wondered idly how it had made it into the house.

"I'll be here to help with everything, of course," Giles said, taking the coffee cup from her. "It's important, though, that you understand how it all works."

"There's so much I need to learn," Buffy mumbled, sitting down at the kitchen table and wrapping her hands around the coffee mug. The warmth seeped into her palms. "I didn't know there could be so much to learn."

"Your mother did a lot. She was a remarkable woman." He watched her lower her head and drag the back of her hand against her nose. "You are too, Buffy. If anyone can handle this, it's you."

"Don't really have a choice, do I?"

She was tired. Exhausted. She had reached her breaking point, but the work kept coming. Every time she sat down, there was something that needed her attention. They did their best to accommodate her-the Scoobies and her former Watcher. All knew the strain of the past two weeks, but they reflexively turned toward her. That was what was done in a crisis, after all. Giles hovered with training. The Scoobies waited for direction.

All she wanted was to sleep. She wanted to close her eyes and let everything else fall away. Sure, the world would be just as wrong when she woke up, but at least she would have that moment. She would have that moment of blissful nothing.

She waited until they set out for their various afternoon tasks. Giles was headed to the Magic Box with Anya. Xander had a construction gig. When she was sure that Dawn was occupied with Willow and Tara, she slipped out the back door and made her way toward the cemetery.

She felt as if her limbs were moving through jello and it took effort to place one foot in front of another. She could have curled up on the street corner and drifted off, but she kept moving forward. She moved through the familiar streets, to the familiar graveyard and then finally his crypt.

The door was heavy and the hinges creaked somberly as she pushed it open. The air was cool inside the stone walls and she wrapped her arms around herself after she pulled the door closed. He wasn't in the main area, but she hadn't expected him to be. She padded over to the trap door and reached down, pulling it open and then climbing down.

He was sprawled out on his bed with one arm flopped over his bare chest. She walked over to the empty side of the bed and slipped off her shoes before quietly climbing beside him. He barely shifted at her added weight and drew her knees up toward her chin, hugging herself as she let her weary body sink into the mattress. Within minutes she was asleep.

Spike never expected to wake up with the Slayer in his bed. He sat up a bit and took a peek at her. She was settled on top of the sheet, but he noticed she had twisted it in her fist while she slept. Her breath was even, peaceful almost. It wasn't until he saw her at rest that he realized how tense she had been before. She looked years younger curled there on his bed, and he had the rare moment of being reminded of her young age. She was only nineteen, much too young to have gone through everything she had, he thought.

She shifted, moving onto her back. Her head turned toward him and he found himself reaching forward, unable to resist pushing her hair back gently from her face. His touch was enough to rouse her from her sleep and he pulled back just before her eyes drifted open.

"Mornin', love," he said with a soft grin. She sat up quickly, her cheeks staining red as she hastily tucked her hair behind her ears.

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here. In your bed."

"You're always welcome." In any other exchange the statement would have been laced with innuendo but he said it straight. She nodded slightly, looking away as she admitted, "I just needed to sleep. I can't…"

"You can't sleep there?"

She shook her head. "No, I can't."

Her endless nights of slaying made sense then. "Well, you come here whenever you want. My bed is your bed."

She smiled a bit, even as she shook her head and said, "I just needed to have a good few hours. I should be fine now."

"You can tell them, you know. You should tell them."

"Tell them what?"

"That's you're not alright. That you need time." He leaned back against the headboard. "They'd like it a lot better than you resorting to this."

"I don't want them to worry."

"You slinked off to a vampire's bed in the middle of the afternoon," he drawled. "Maybe they should." He saw her frown and added, "Not that I don't like having you here. We both know that's not the case."

"You're right," she said, not too happily.

He smirked and asked, "Did it physically hurt to admit that, love?"

She yawned wide, swatting his joke away with a flit of her hand. Her hands went to her face and she wiped at her eyes as she stretched. The hem of her shirt rose as she arced her back and he found his eyes drawn to the sliver of milky whiteness that appeared between the waistband of her jeans and her shirt. She settled back down into the mattress and it disappeared.

"You can stay here as long as you like, pet," he said, beginning to climb out of the bed. She sat up a bit and reached out, laying a hand on his forearm. He looked back and said, "Yeah?"

"Could you stay?"

He hesitated for a moment but then settled back against the headboard, casting a quick glance in her direction. She was looking at him with an almost sheepish expression and he asked, "What is it?"

"Thank you for letting me stay here. I know I haven't always treated you the best-"

"Neither have I, pet," he interrupted. "I did come here to kill you and all."

She yawned again, nodding her head up and down. "So, we're even then?"

He grinned a bit. "Getting there. Just close your eyes. I'll be here."

She found comfort in that last statement and turned on her side, feeling comfortable for the first time in days as she felt slumber fell again.

A/N: I know, this was a complete fluffball. But...sometimes that is needed. Would love your feedback :D