Broken apart by the Waitress - who seemed to be using her powers for good and blocking the other patrons staring - Buffy sat back in her seat, smiling when Sam placed his hand over hers.
No, I think we're finally good.
Warmed by that alone, Buffy grinned, dropping a couple of $20's on the table for the waitress. "We're good," she nodded, wondering how much heartache would've been avoided if they'd just done this three years ago. If she hadn't passed out, drunk. If she hadn't gone home, if only...
Buffy blinked as she thought of her last moments with Spike, down in the Hellmouth. What he'd said... She'd told him about Sam the day before. Pretty hard to avoid considering he knew she'd been crying when he'd seen her but...
'I love you,' she'd told him softly, clasping his hand, even though it burned. 'No you don't' he'd replied, 'but thanks for saying it.'
And she'd been mad at him - so fucking mad because how could he know that? She had loved him in her own way - fucked up and crazy though their relationship was. But in love with him?
Yeah, Spike had known alright. He'd known the night before when she'd found out Sam was dead and he'd held her, despite that. Let her cry it out. And--Here she was.
She looked down at Sam's hand, clasped gently on top of hers, and felt the corners of her mouth tug into a smile. "She's right, y'know, it's getting late... Can I walk you home, Sam?" She asked, softly - the first words he'd spoken to her, back in Stanford when he'd come across her studying in the library and they'd got talking.
The waitress retrieved the money and bid them a good night before walking away.
"You buy my alcohol and you offer to walk me home?" he laughed, grinning at her as he gave her hand a squeeze. "When exactly did I become the girl here?"
He slid out of the booth, gently pulling Buffy along with him until they were both on their feet.
It didn't look like anyone was going to be carrying anyone back to the hotel tonight, and Sam was grateful for that. Tonight wouldn't be a repeat of their first failed attempt to be more than friends, something that had haunted them for so many years.
"Can I trust you not to take advantage of me?" he smirked.
"I'd answer that, but you might kill me," she teased, though really, any claims of being a girl would be lost on Sam. Completely. Hell, Dean too, though Buffy would never say that one out loud.
She let Sam pull her to her feet and stood with him, toe-to-toe for a moment.
Can I trust you not to take advantage of me?
Buffy laughed at that and tugged Sam's hand until he started walking with her. "You can trust me," she said with a slight smile, "Not sure about that last part, Winchester."
She took a breath as they left the bar and met his gaze, "How much is Dean gonna kill you if you don't find your way back to your room tonight?"
He smiled as she tugged at his hand, and they started walking side by side on the sidewalk. He gave her a sideways glance as she mentioned him not returning to his own room for the night.
And he'd be lying if he said he hadn't already been thinking that thought--he was red-blooded male afterall--but for Buffy to be on his train of thought was surprising. A good surprising but surprising nonetheless.
His lips curled into a smirk at her question, his fingers interlacing with hers. "I think Dean'll survive. He'll probably blow up my phone, but he'll have to get over it."
Because for once, Sam was gonna do what he wanted to do without checking in with his brother like he was John.
No, I think we're finally good.
Warmed by that alone, Buffy grinned, dropping a couple of $20's on the table for the waitress. "We're good," she nodded, wondering how much heartache would've been avoided if they'd just done this three years ago. If she hadn't passed out, drunk. If she hadn't gone home, if only...
Buffy blinked as she thought of her last moments with Spike, down in the Hellmouth. What he'd said... She'd told him about Sam the day before. Pretty hard to avoid considering he knew she'd been crying when he'd seen her but...
'I love you,' she'd told him softly, clasping his hand, even though it burned.
'No you don't' he'd replied, 'but thanks for saying it.'
And she'd been mad at him - so fucking mad because how could he know that? She had loved him in her own way - fucked up and crazy though their relationship was. But in love with him?
Yeah, Spike had known alright. He'd known the night before when she'd found out Sam was dead and he'd held her, despite that. Let her cry it out. And--Here she was.
She looked down at Sam's hand, clasped gently on top of hers, and felt the corners of her mouth tug into a smile. "She's right, y'know, it's getting late... Can I walk you home, Sam?" She asked, softly - the first words he'd spoken to her, back in Stanford when he'd come across her studying in the library and they'd got talking.
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"You buy my alcohol and you offer to walk me home?" he laughed, grinning at her as he gave her hand a squeeze. "When exactly did I become the girl here?"
He slid out of the booth, gently pulling Buffy along with him until they were both on their feet.
It didn't look like anyone was going to be carrying anyone back to the hotel tonight, and Sam was grateful for that. Tonight wouldn't be a repeat of their first failed attempt to be more than friends, something that had haunted them for so many years.
"Can I trust you not to take advantage of me?" he smirked.
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She let Sam pull her to her feet and stood with him, toe-to-toe for a moment.
Can I trust you not to take advantage of me?
Buffy laughed at that and tugged Sam's hand until he started walking with her. "You can trust me," she said with a slight smile, "Not sure about that last part, Winchester."
She took a breath as they left the bar and met his gaze, "How much is Dean gonna kill you if you don't find your way back to your room tonight?"
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And he'd be lying if he said he hadn't already been thinking that thought--he was red-blooded male afterall--but for Buffy to be on his train of thought was surprising. A good surprising but surprising nonetheless.
His lips curled into a smirk at her question, his fingers interlacing with hers. "I think Dean'll survive. He'll probably blow up my phone, but he'll have to get over it."
Because for once, Sam was gonna do what he wanted to do without checking in with his brother like he was John.
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