Disclaimer: Buffy and co. belong to Joss.Title taken from Blue Öyster Cult.

A/N: A fill at comment_fic for Leni_ba who prompted "any. any vampire. sunlight."

Spike's probably the first vampire in existence not to be terrified of the sunlight.

Maybe he's just that dumb, maybe he's just that motivated.

When Buffy spoke of the sunrise, The Vessel shuddered with fear. It's saved her, more than a few times. The threat of immolation is not one that is taken lightly in the undead community.

Angel braved the light once, to save her.

Spike does it on a regular basis.

He shows up at her house in the middle of the day because his television reception is worse than usual, or because he needs to do laundry (which apparently someone told him was okay to do in her house), or because he's bored.

Usually because he's bored.

He hangs out with her little sister and huddles under a blanket when he decides his shopping or snarking just cannot wait until dusk.

His hand catches alight because he wants to see her, needs to see her. He burns black holes in his blanket and swears a string of expletives when his shirt sleeve goes up in flames but he doesn't turn back.

"You're dumb," she tells him when he almost tears the bell off of the door at the Magic Box from barrelling in so quickly. He leaves a little trail of flames behind him, like a cartoon.

He stamps out the smoldering tatters of his coverings under his heavy boots against the tile floor and earns himself a look of great disapproval from Anya, perched behind the counter.

"I'm in love," he corrects.

Buffy opens up the blinds and bathes the table in sunlight.