Buffy's cheeks were still pink.

They'd been various shades of the rosy hue for hours now, ever since she'd left Spike standing all shirtless and statue-like in the middle of his crypt. Not just pink, but flushed. Blotchy. A permanent blush that stained her skin and made her feel hot all over, warm and fluttery and nervous. In a good way.

The best way.

And how was that for the twistiest of storylines, the ending that nobody saw coming? Spike made her butterfly-level nervous.

God, since when?

Buffy considered her reflection in the vanity mirror, wondering to herself if the vampire had even realized how ruffled he'd gotten her feathers earlier. Granted, sure, she probably should've figured he'd be sleeping in the middle of the afternoon, but it wasn't her fault he slept naked. What was her fault was that she couldn't seem to stop picturing it.

She felt her cheeks grow hot again, which really didn't mean much considering they were still bright pink. Still. An hour before the party and they seemed determined to stay that way no matter how many times she dusted her face with powder.

If she didn't just give up and stop trying she was going to be celebrating her birthday looking like one of those wiggy porcelain dolls.

Then again…

Buffy wrinkled her nose at her reflection and set her makeup and brush down with a huff, slamming it into her dressing table with just enough force to make the entire antique creak and groan, but not to crack and fall apart.

When she'd suddenly gone all tongue tied and stomach twisty around Spike, she wasn't totally sure. Couldn't pinpoint the exact moment or look back on the day and know yep, that was it. That time he helped ice her twisted ankle, or told Dawn some stupid joke that had her laughing for hours, or threatened the pizza delivery boy in order to save her money...that time was the exact moment that her feelings for him had changed. It might have been the night a week ago in the cemetery when he'd held her broken wrist and worried over her.

It might have been the week before that. The month before. Six months before.

Buffy didn't know, and the more she tried to figure it out the more frustrated she became.

Over the course of the last week, she'd wrestled with it. The when of it. Wondered if it meant something in the grand scheme, big picture version of things that she couldn't remember the moment. She remembered the moment with Angel. With Riley. Hell, she even sort of remembered a moment...of sorts...with Pike. And then she'd come to the agonizingly slow, week-long conclusion that she might have remembered the when for each of her past relationships, but none of them had lasted. None of them had worked.

And that was when she'd decided that maybe the "moment" with Spike was harder to pick out because there were so many of them. Maybe the when didn't matter with Spike because the important thing wasn't when, but why. She knew why she had feelings for him. So, she'd reasoned, the important thing now was that she had feelings for him and that she'd realized it in the end. Which she had.

She just hadn't figured out what it meant, or what to do next.

Thus, with the storming into his crypt in the middle of the day to make sure he was coming tonight and accidentally seeing him naked, and the hour and a half she'd spent picking and re-picking out her outfit, and the lots and lots of large-winged butterflies were fluttering around her insides.

And her cheeks were still pink.

It probably didn't help that she kept imagining naked Spike every twenty-fifth second or so.

The doorbell rang.

Buffy's eyes shot over to the alarm clock on her bedside table, glowing red numbers reading exactly 7:30. Her shoulders relaxed.

Willow and Tara.

A moment later the heavy front door was creaking open and the sound of voices filled the entryway, mingling together and floating up the stairwell and into her open bedroom.

"Buffy," Dawn called up the stairs, her voice cracking a little with the pitch and effort. "Willow and Tara are here."

"I'll be right down," Buffy called back, picking up one of her shinier, pinker glosses and swiping the wand over her lips in a rush. Smacked them together to blend. Flashed a bright smile into the mirror, then inhaled deeply. Muttered, "Here goes nothin'."

Sighing once more into her reflection, she decided she could pass the rosy pink flush off as just a little too much blush. Then she stood up, smoothed her skirt down over her thighs, tucked an errant curl back behind her ear and headed downstairs.

"You're an idiot."

Spike fingered the neck of his beer and shot Dawn a wry, sidelong glance. "Not accordin' to the last three papers you've brought home."

The younger girl rolled her eyes.

"No, not school stuff. Just...you. Generally speaking." She dropped down onto the sofa beside him and crossed her arms. "You're a complete and total idiot."

Spike was fairly certain he didn't have the foggiest idea what the girl was talking about, but that didn't stop his curiosity from piquing.

"Right then," he chuckled, raising the amber colored bottle up to his lips. "What is it you're on about?"

"The fact that you're in love with my sister and won't tell her," Dawn said simply.

Spike choked and lowered the beer bottle. Choked again. Then cleared his throat, opened his mouth to say something.

Dawn beat him to it.

"Don't even try and deny it, Spike," she warned, the expression on her face somehow both stern and smug, and far too grown up for a girl her age. "It's so obvious."

Spike had no idea what to say to that.

Normally, he would've laughed. Brushed her off with a quick comment, a snide remark, a dry quirk of his lips and that would be that. End of conversation, end of story.

As it was, the little minx had caught him off guard.

In the end, all he managed was a short, stifled laugh that sounded too awkward to be dismissive and an out and out lie. "I'm not in love with your sister."

"Yeah," Dawn said, her voice sure, just a little bit condescending over the sound of the stereo as she smiled knowingly over at him. "You are."

The vampire stared at her, blinking. Gripping the neck of his bottle so tightly he thought it might shatter. Wondering how in the name of everything evil and unholy this slip of girl had managed to see straight through him. How both she and her sister had gotten so far under his skin.

"Am not," he argued, leaning back further into the cushions, propping one booted foot up on the coffee table. He took another rough swig of beer while he thought of something else to say, then lowered the bottle and grumbled, "Bloody hell, I barely even like your sister."

Dawn gave him a deadpan expression. Raised a single, skeptical brow.

Spike growled.

"Right, fine." He sat up and leaned forward her as the words came out in a low rush. "I like the chit. Alright? But we're just friends, Dawn." He set his beer down on the coffee table and looked at her again. "That's all."

The younger Summers answered him with two sky-high brows this time.

Spike rolled his eyes. "What?"

"You actually think anybody buys that? Please," she laughed, then sat up straighter, began ticking off arguments on her fingers as she listed them. "You're always helping us with stuff, you're always looking for ways to make things easier on Buffy, you're here all the time. You guys spend like ninety percent of your free time together. And it's not like you've been seeing anyone." She tightened her arms across her chest and aimed her final argument. "You haven't had a girlfriend since Harmony left."

The vampire jumped on that, latching on to the only argument Dawn had made that he could readily refute.

"And that's supposed to prove somethin', is it?" Spike challenged, flashing his own smug smile and chuckling to himself. "I've been busy, bit. Lots of things to do that don't require female companionship. Besides, Buffy hasn't had a boyfriend since Captain Cardboard skipped town." He picked his beer back up and raised it to his lips, speaking around the rim. "Does that mean she's in love with me?"

"What if it does?"

"I..." He began, then trailed off, brow furrowed. Studied the expression on her face. Lowering his voice another half octave, he asked, "Do you know something?"

She opened her mouth to respond but didn't get a chance to answer him.

"Dawnie?" Buffy called, her voice reaching them a half second before she appeared in the frame of the living room's doorway. She paused there, her eyes drifting toward the vampire just briefly before shooting back to focus on her sister. "Hey, will you come help with the punch?"

The younger girl perked up. "Is it alcoholic punch?"

The older girl raised an eyebrow. "Not for you it isn't."

"Lame," Dawn sighed, casting Spike one more wry glance before hopping up to her feet.

"Tell me about it," Buffy said, nudging her sister's shoulder lightly with hers as she slid past. Then she turned her smiling eyes on Spike. "Hey."

"Hey," he said back, getting to his feet and taking a few steps toward her.

It was quiet for just a moment, except for the rustling and tinkling of glasses and laughing voices filtering out through the kitchen and the inane, thrumming drivel on the stereo that somehow passed for music in the 21st century.

And she looked beautiful.

It was the one nagging, persistent thought he kept coming back to as he stared at her, shuffled his feet. Wondered what to say. Things had never been this awkward between them, had it?

Bloody hell, even when he'd been trying to off the girl they'd always found something to talk about.

"I...didn't see you come in," Buffy said finally, gesturing toward him with one hand, tucking the other into her back pocket.

"Uh, yeah," he agreed, reaching his free hand around to rub the back of his neck. "You weren't meant to." Then he shrugged. "Didn't wanna have to help."

She laughed. Not a loud belly laugh, but a genuine one which worked as well as anything else to break the tension, even if it didn't pull the high color out of her cheeks.

"Right," Buffy agreed, nodding, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well you're off the hook, we're pretty much finished with the set up. Everyone else should be here soon."

"Goodie," Spike muttered wryly, snickering low in the back of his throat when she smacked him hard on the arm. "What, did that not sound sincere?"

She rolled her eyes at him, folding her arms in front of her chest and revealing a good deal of tantalizing golden skin over her collarbone, down her blouse. "You know you didn't have to come."

"I know." He fought to keep his eyes on her face where they belonged, which was more difficult than it should have been.

Something he wagered Buffy must have known, because she just smiled sardonically up at him and shook her head, then looked away.

"I'm glad you came," she told him quietly, her eyes on the ground.

And when he answered her, his voice was just as quiet. "Wouldn't have missed it."

"I think you're letting me win," Buffy said, giving her sister a look as she reached forward and gathered the cards off the table.

Ignoring the accusation, Dawn said, "Spike looks nice tonight."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. Alright, with the out of nowhere.

"Believe me when I say he's too old for you," she murmured, beginning to shuffle the cards in her hands using the deck cutting technique that Joyce had taught them.

The younger girl rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "I'm just saying, he looks especially…nice tonight. Don't you think so?"

It was the most loaded of loaded questions, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why Dawn was asking it. She'd seen the flush splashed across her older sister's face when she'd gotten home from the vampire's crypt. Had seen the quiet, awkward tension between the two blondes in the living room. Had probably seen all this coming months before either Spike or Buffy could have even admitted it was a possibility.

She was annoyingly perceptive that way.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy agreed now, not seeing any real point in denying what was so obvious. "Sure."

The younger girl was staring across the room, watching the vampire interact casually with Tara and Willow. Buffy followed her gaze. Something the redheaded witch said made him smirk and say something back in low tones that she couldn't quite hear, but whatever it was must have been funny. Both witches burst into giggles, and from the other corner of the room, Giles rolled his eyes good naturedly.

She smiled to herself.

"I think he did something different with his hair," Dawn said suddenly, drawing her sister's attention back to her.

"You noticed that?" she asked, surprised.

"Like you didn't?" Dawn fired back.

Embarrassed, Buffy took a long drink of her birthday punch and turned her attention back to the cards in her hands.

Then surreptitiously back in Spike's direction, looking at him through her lashes.

She had noticed. In fact, it had been one of the very first things she'd noticed when she'd walked into the living room looking for Dawn. One, that Spike was there, sitting beside her little sister on the couch. And two, that he was looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

And pretty.

Not uncharacteristically pretty, because…Spike. The bleached vampire sort of always looked just this side of too pretty in Buffy's opinion. It used to drive her insane, especially when he was firmly in the evil arch nemesis camp. Bothered her less the more comfortable they'd gotten with one another. Had started to bother her again as they'd gotten increasingly closer as friends.

But he looked even nicer than usual tonight. She hadn't really been sure why.

Or maybe she'd been worried it was a result of the almost seeing him naked thing.

But now that her little sister had pointed it out she realized it was his hair. He'd left it tousled, looking like he'd just been running his fingers through it. It still obviously had hair product in it, but one of the signature platinum curls was falling loosely over the top of his forehead instead of being plastered back like usual.

From across the room, he seemed to feel her eyes on him because he stopped mid-sentence and turned away from Tara, catching and holding Buffy's gaze as though on instinct. He tipped his head slightly to the side, azure eyes curious and full lips quirking up in the hint of a smirk.

Her cheeks went hot and she looked away.

"Aren't you a little young to be having such freaky insights into my love life?" she muttered under her breath, focusing on her hands as she continued to shuffle the deck.

Across from her, Dawn shrugged. "I watch enough Dawson's to recognize unrequited love when I see it."

"I knew I let you watch too much TV."

"You do, but that's not the point."

"No," she agreed, shaking her head and dropping her voice down low. A dry, knowing smile on her lips. "The point is you think I'm in love with Spike."

"What do you think?" Dawn pressed.

Buffy thought about the question for a minute. Drummed baby pink fingernails against the wooden tabletop and listened to the sounds around her. The voices of her friends, her family, rising and falling from different corners of the room as they told stories and bad jokes and made cringe-worthy comments. Got scolded for said comments.

She listened to the voices, the music from the stereo, the tinkling of glasses and plates, and she realized she kept picking out one voice above all the others.

Then she shoved the freshly shuffled deck of cards back across the table and tapped them once with her knuckle. "I think it's your turn to deal."

"Gotta hand it to you, pet," Spike purred from his position in the kitchen doorway, shoulder braced casually against the wooden frame when she turned to look at him, his signature smirk firmly in place. "You do know how to throw the world's most boring party."

Buffy froze for a minute as she looked at him, surprised.

Pleasantly surprised.

Honestly, she'd thought she'd seen him leave over an hour ago, hadn't been expecting to see him again until the next night, so she wasn't entirely prepared for the rush of heat and the tingling in her fingertips that seeing him now brought with it.

She shook her head at him and stuck her tingling fingers back into the sink full of warm, soapy water and finished rinsing the plate she'd been scrubbing. Forcing a glibness she didn't feel into her voice, she said, "Hey, boring is good. Boring means nobody turned evil or ran away or got kidnapped." A beat as she turned fully around to face him. "Or eaten." Another beat as Spike arched a brow. "What, there's a first time for everything."

"S'pose that's true enough," the vampire conceded, pulling his shoulder off the doorframe and stepping into the kitchen. He eyed the sink o' dishes behind her. "You need any help in here with anythin'?"

"Nah, it's okay." Buffy finished wiping her hands on the kitchen towel and tossed it onto the countertop beside her. "I'll probably wait to clean most of it up tomorrow anyway."

The vampire nodded like he understood.

"So, as far as birthdays go where does this one rank on the list?" he asked, the thumb of his right hand slipping casually through his belt loop as he crossed the rest of the space between them. His eyes twinkled teasingly at her.

Buffy smiled and shook her head. Told him, "Well considering it wasn't my actual birthday, I'd have to say right near the tippy top."

That made the vampire laugh, a deep rumble, almost a purring in his chest that she swore she could feel all the way down to her toes. And she laughed along with him. Then sighed, feeling wistful. Leaned back against the edge of the counter and crossed her arms.

"Honestly," she began again, finding his eyes through the dim light in the kitchen. "It really was pretty great. It was nice to have everybody here, and have everybody get along. I think if Mom had been here it would've been perfect."

That was maybe the single most obvious proof of how dramatically and fundamentally her relationship with Spike had changed. He was the only one she still talked to about Joyce.

"Can't argue with that," Spike agreed quietly, as if on cue. Like he could read her mind. "Reckon she'd have done a better job keepin' the punch out of the bit's reach."

Buffy laughed and nodded in agreement, grateful for the levity he'd gifted her with. Then she cleared her throat and looked at him again. Asked, "What are you still doing here, I thought you left when Anya and Xander did?"

The vampire shook his head.

"Just nipped out to do a quick sweep of the cemeteries, then circled back," he explained, turning his body so he could rest his hip against the countertop beside hers. "Didn't get a chance to give you your present yet."

Buffy stood up straighter and turned toward him. "You got me a present?"

Oh, God, did she sound as pathetically excited as she felt?

The answer if the very amused expression on the vampire's face was any indication? A resounding yes.

"'S not much," he warned her.

Did he sound worried? She thought he sounded worried.

She couldn't quite tell.

"I'll be the judge of that," she said, reassuring him. She clapped her hands together and glanced around the two of them, then made a face. "Okay, see, I heard the word present but definitely don't see one. What gives?"

He rolled his eyes but chuckled, still seeming a little unsure of himself. Which was shockingly endearing. And a little confusing, because she'd never seen him lacking at the very least the appearance of arrogance.

"Not the kind of present you open, pet," he explained, turning his gaze down to the small stretch of counter top between them. Expression thoughtful, voice smooth. "Figured you'd get more'n enough junk from the rest of the Scoobies. Thought I'd give you somethin' you actually need instead."

Her brow furrowed. "I didn't know I needed anything."

Spike looked up at her through the fringe of thick, dark lashes. "Wager it's fairly obvious what it is you need, Slayer."

Buffy's body temperature changed. The same way it had in his crypt that afternoon, in the cemetery under the light of the moon over a week ago. Sudden, a rush of cold followed by immediate heat and the subtle but there speeding of her pulse.

Oh, God.

Mouth dry, she swallowed. Said flatly, "It is."

He nodded and stood up straight again.

"Yeah," he said, tilting his head to the side. Eyes steady and fixed on hers, he leaned just a tiny bit closer to her. Dropped his gaze to her mouth. Inhaled through his nose and murmured, "A break."

Oh.

Buffy shifted away from him again.

Oh.

She exhaled the breath she'd been holding.

Disappointed, trying her very best to hide it, she made a face at him. Pursed her lips and repeated, "A break?"

He nodded. "Know all about the week you have off from school comin' up, the Niblet filled me in. Think you should take that week off from everything. Classes, work, patrol, all of it."

Idiot.

"Sounds nice," she murmured, stepping away from the sink and away from him. Cleared her throat and began busying herself with the pizza boxes on the kitchen island.

"Glad you think so."

"Yeah, too bad it's not possible."

The vampire pushed himself off the countertop now, frowning deeply. "Why not?"

Buffy picked up the stacked, empty cardboard and turned toward him, feeling silly. And mad. And silly for being mad.

It was all very confusing.

So she exhaled and said, "Spike, I have big, real world, life or death style responsibilities." She skirted around him to head for the back door. "I can't just take a week off."

"You bloody well can," the vampire insisted from behind her, raising his voice. She could feel his eyes on her as she opened the back door, tossed the pizza boxes out into the trash. Sounding annoyed himself as he added, "I can handle patrol on my own for a measly week, Buffy."

"No one's saying you can't," she countered, shutting the door and turning around. Keenly aware of how unfair, how irrational, she was being. And unable to stop it anyway. "I just don't think now is—"

"Bollocks," he snapped, cutting her off. His own irritation clearly rising. "Now's the perfect time. Nothin's happening that I can't handle. You're exhausted all the sodding time, you've got everyone frettin' over you." He moved to slide in front of her to block her path into the dining room, grabbing her by the elbows for good measure. "Whether you can see it or not, we can."

Buffy didn't fight his hold on her.

She might have before. Been annoyed with him and shoved him away when he'd tried to hold her in place like this. But instead, she stood very still, eyeing him warily through narrowed eyes. His hands felt cool and smooth against her arms. Strong, steady.

Nice.

God.

"See what?" she asked, sounding tired.

"That you're runnin' yourself ragged, luv," he told her, both his expression and his grip softening. Then he perked a brow and added, "And you're too damn stubborn to do anythin' about it on your own."

She stared straight at him. Blinked a few times. Hated the fact that he was right, and the reality that what he was offering…while maybe not exactly what she'd been hoping for…was the best present of any that she'd gotten at her party.

By far.

But she was still annoyed. Unfairly annoyed, but annoyed none the less, and unable to open her mouth to tell the stupid bleached vampire just why it was she was so annoyed.

So instead she sighed, softened a bit herself, and asked him, "So your present is forcing a vacation on me?"

Spike slid his hands down her arms until they fell away from her skin all together, freeing her to move away from him.

She didn't.

He noticed.

Then he smiled and said, "Somethin' like that, yeah." Eyes glittering like they were in on some kind of inside joke, he teased her. "Even mythical defenders of the innocent deserve some time off."

Being annoyed with him suddenly seemed very petty.

"Okay," she agreed simply.

Spike looked surprised.

He blinked at her and shifted back, scanning her eyes. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," she said again, going for a little more earnest this time. She searched the blue of his eyes, such a blue blue, flecked with gold, and she smiled. "Thanks."

Spike smiled back, looking relieved. "Don't mention it, luv."

Her arm shot out like it had a mind of its own, without any rational thought or impulse control from her brain. Flew out and grabbed him around the wrist to hold him, keep him in place.

"No," she said quickly, before she could think about it or change her mind. "I mean...not just for my present. Thanks for everything. All of it. I don't say it..." she trailed off and laughed humorlessly, dropping her gaze. "Well, ever I guess…"

"Don't rightly need you t—" Spike began, but Buffy shook her head, cut him off before he could finish.

"I know you don't need me to, you idiot. That isn't...what I'm trying to say is...God, I am just really awful at this." She dropped her hold on his arm and turned away from him, feeling silly. And stupid. And useless in the words department. "I've never been great at the whole putting words into sentences thing."

"Hey," he said, and it was his turn to reach for her. Grab her arm and tug her back around to face him. "I mean it. I don't do all this for the recognition, Buffy."

"Then why do you do it?" she asked.

It was a stupid question.

"You really don't know?" he asked back, looking at her through narrowed eyes.

She kissed him.

Her hands on either side of his face, parted lips pressed to his, she inhaled his scent. Tasted him. Alcohol and cigarette smoke, fresh cut grass, wind. Like the vampire himself, there were so many different nuances, flavors. Salty, tart, surprisingly sweet. And his mouth was icy, and his lips were as full and freakishly soft as she'd been thinking they'd be.

It only took a second. One, or maybe just half of one, and the vampire was kissing her back.

She felt the change in him immediately, the tightening of his grip around her biceps as he pulled her flush against him and the delicious, rumbling growl that vibrated against her lips and sent a wave of white-hot desire shooting down to pool in her belly.

When their lips finally separated, both their chests heaving and both their mouths softly swollen, they didn't pull apart. Stayed close together instead. Avoided eye contact. Swallowing, the taste of him still cool on her tongue, Buffy let her hands fall from his angled cheeks down to his shoulders. He was rubbing absent minded circles into her arms with his thumbs.

"Whoa," she finally breathed, lashes fluttering rapidly.

Spike exhaled slowly through his nose. "Agreed."

"Are we…" she paused and bit her bottom lip, chancing a glance up into his face. "Um, I mean…" She wrinkled her nose. "Do we need to talk about this?"

The vampire squeezed her arms once, eyes scanning her face hungrily. He slid his hands up to ghost over her neck, further up to cradle her face. Then tilted his head to the side and asked, voice honeyed and low, "What's there to talk about?"

She tingled all over again, cheeks hot. "You kissed me."

"No," he countered, leaning forward, letting the tip of his nose ghost over hers. "You kissed me."

"You kissed me back," Buffy corrected them both, tilting her head to the side to mimic him and digging her fingernails into the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

"I did at that," he agreed, then grinned and curled his tongue behind his teeth. Leaned forward. Whispered silkily, "And I intend to do it again."

Buffy laughed, the sound quickly muffled as she smiled against him and let him capture her lips again. Slipped her hands into the curls at the nape of his neck.

Best present ever.