Buffy and Spike both slept all day after their escape into the library. They had sneaked into the basement, curled up behind the water heater tanks and slept the sleep of the exhausted. Buffy woke first, in the twilight dimness from the one basement window. She got out her one remaining stake and approached Spike stealthily. She got almost within striking range and then stopped. Her hand faltered and she put the stake back into her sleeve and sighed.
Spike opened his eyes. "Morning, cutie," he said. "What's up? Why not slay me when you had the chance?"
"How - how did you know?" she asked.
"Been awake since before sunset; it just takes a while for the daytime lethargy to wear off. So what are we doing tonight?" Spike stretched and yawned.
Buffy shrugged. "How about finding a better place than this?"
In a separate part of the cellar was a room that didn't have a window. What it did have was two couches, a table with four chairs, a hot plate and microwave, and (a discovery that elicited a long appreciative whistle from Spike) a hidden stash of hypodermic needles.
"All right! This will make things a lot easier!" he crowed.
If Buffy was disturbed at the thought of some library employee having these on hand; she was horrified at what Spike's plans for them were. "Yes; for you, maybe!"
"Of course. What else?" he asked, surprised at her retort. "Oh, yeah. That. Well, sorry, but I'm not the sensitive, caring, always-think-of-you-first sort of vampire; for which, by the way, you should be glad." He grinned maliciously. "I've heard that kind can turn on you." Her swift roundhouse kick to his head told him that his remarks were not fully appreciated. He laughed, and punched her in the face. She kicked him in the stomach and pushed with her foot, knocking him to the floor. "Oh, baby likes to play!" he said, rolling to his feet again. He knocked aside her next punch to his head, and tripped her so she fell backwards over the table. He jumped towards her, pinning her shoulders down on the table and leaning over her. His attention was distracted by the way her white tank top clung to her body which was sweaty from the fight, and he laughed again. "I could learn to like this, luv."
"Oh, yeah? How about if you learn to like this!" and Buffy cracked his head with her own, then followed with a swift kick to the crotch, finishing with flipping him backwards over the table so he landed half on the couch, half on the floor.
He groaned. "This, I'm not so fond of," he admitted, bending deeply and clutching his midsection. You'd think that after dying and existing centuries as one of the undead, a simple kick to the nuts wouldn't be so debilitating.
Another week found them settled in to stay in the old lounge; apparently, (Buffy discovered by listening to the employees' conversation during the day sometimes) there was a new staff lounge upstairs that everyone used, which left the one in the basement almost totally forgotten about. Buffy, having written to Giles the day before - a mercurial, moody letter just to let him know she was all right, and carefully avoiding mentioning her present "arrangements," felt a load off her mind and slept a few minutes later than usual.
She awoke to see Spike leaning against the wall adjacent to her couch, watching her. She felt a creepy feeling go up and down her spine. Usually she awoke before he did, and usually spent the time until he woke up watching him and asking herself why she didn't plunge a stake into his heart while he slept. It was chilling to discover he had the same sort of habit.
For the umpteenth time, she wondered why she was doing this, why he was doing this. It couldn't have been any more fun for him than for her, always going around expecting to be attacked by his roommate, not going out much, having to spend all his time, like her, with a hated enemy. Why hadn't they killed each other yet? It was a constant question in her mind, so she asked it. "Why didn't you kill me?"
"What, and cut off my supply?" he asked with a wounded expression. "Listen, Slayer, I would never do that to you - well, to me, actually. Hey, let's go out tonight. I'm dying for a -"
"-bite?"
" - change of scenery."
Later that night, sitting next to Spike in the movie theatre and watching the latest James Bond flick, she reflected that, strange as her life had been before, it couldn't possibly compare with her life now.
And their mid-day conversations in the lounge, when neither of them could sleep, were nothing short of bizarre.
"Spike?"
"Mmm?"
"What's it like when you feed?"
"It's the biggest power trip in the world. Better than anything else that I've tried. Positively orgasmic!"
"Oh," Buffy said, blushing.
Spike cocked an eye at her, grinning. "Why, you curious? I could show you, if you like!"
"No…no thanks!" Buffy backpedaled. She let the silence fill the air for a moment, then asked him, "What were you like before you were a vampire?"
He considered the question, briefly. "Hmm. Pretty much the action-packed, fun-loving guy I am today. Only without the killing bit. (a pause) So what were you like before you were the slayer?"
Buffy's reply was succinct. "Cordelia."
"Oh, God!"
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