Buffy giggled as she made her way up to the big white house, her stomach getting all flip-floppy. She knew who lived on the other side of that door, and she couldn't help but lust for him.

William 'Spike' Giles. Author of the incredible Faith the Vampire Slayer novels. He was handsome, he was rich, he was a very eligible bachelor. There were always women falling all over him, trying to catch a glimpse of his bluer than blue eyes and dazzling smile. From all the different magazine articles she had read, he was caring, funny, smart, adventurous and amazingly sexy. Not to mention his big-bad side, all leather and cocky attitude. And oh, that accent! She wanted to swoon every time she heard his deep British voice.

He was definitely a catch. Everything that she had ever wanted in a man.

She saw him every day, dressed casually while he was in his house, doing whatever a man like him does. Every time she saw him, she had to hold in a gasp as her eyes roamed over his face, taking in his chiseled features and amazingly sexy body—which she had seen without a shirt on. Boy, did he had some fabulous abs and pectorals. He was definitely all man, and she wanted him all to herself. Every inch of his body, heart and soul.

However, she knew she didn't stand a chance in hell. She was just the lowly, mediocre dog walker. She had no place in his life except to walk his adorable dog--a Bull Mastiff by the name of Duke. Buffy had never caught Spike's eye, no matter how hard she tried. He would just hand the leash over to her and say 'have a nice walk!'.

It was frustrating, to say the least.

This time, as she neared the door to his immaculate house, she wasn't trying anything. She hadn't dressed up in her cutest sundress, she didn't do anything special with her hair, she was just Buffy. Buffy on a blahish, lazy day, and she didn't care that he was going to see her like this—her hair pulled back in a ponytail, minimal make up, gray sweat pants and a white wife beater. She was tired of trying to impress someone who would never give her the time of day.

She sighed as she rang the doorbell, pushing some stray hair that fell out of her ponytail behind her ear. 'I will not act like a lovesick teenager when he opens the door. I will not act like a... Oh, who am I kidding...'

“Hey, Spike.” She beamed, holding her hand out for the leash attached to Duke. Was it too late to regret her choice in apparel?

It sure was.

“Morning, Buffy,” he said, handing over the leash.

Their hands grazed. She felt his fingers on his skin! She couldn't help the shiver that ran through her body at the tingles. 'He had to have felt that too! It was like a fricken electrical shock!'

Spike's smile faltered when he saw her shiver, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Are you cold? Do you want to borrow one of my sweaters until you get back?”

“Oh, uh n-yes. That would be great, actually. I guess I wasn't expecting it to be cold when I left.” She responded, rubbing her arms for good measure. She wasn't cold, her body had just reacted to his skin, but if he wanted to offer her his sweater—his Spike scented sweater that had once been on his body—she wouldn't refuse. Maybe she could get away with keeping it for a bit longer...

He disappeared for a couple of seconds, then reappeared, handing her a black hoodie. “I knew I had one around downstairs. I hope that works for you. Have a nice walk, Buffy.”

She slipped the sweater on and smiled. “Thanks, Spike. Be back in a bit!”

He waved and shut the door behind him, leaving her with a tail-wagging Duke.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She made it to the dog park in five minutes, then let the dog off his leash, confident that he wouldn't take off on her. The dog was well trained. He never took off, never pulled her and always followed her orders. She enjoyed walking Duke every day. She had nothing better to do, really. Her job was pretty lenient, what with working from home and everything. She was an artist, and her mom often displayed her art at the Summers’ Gallery. Her income was pretty good, but she liked to take up odd jobs on the side. Something to fill her day up, instead of sitting in her house all the time.


She was a babysitter, dog walker, art tutor, whatever the job called for. As long as it wasn't cleaning or cooking,; she didn't really excel in those areas. But she liked what she did for a living. It was comforting, and she made a lot of friends along the way.

Her favorite 'client' though, was definitely Spike. She was really only his dog walker, but she loved seeing him every day, three times day. Duke too, he was a great dog. She just wished said dog's owner would notice her as something more. Wishing was all she could do.

She picked up a long stick off the ground, throwing it for Duke to catch, giggling when he trotted back to her, the stick hanging lopsidedly from his mouth. She could never understand how such a big dog could carry the stick so awkwardly, but he always managed.

She did that a couple more times, enjoying the spring breeze on her back as she played around with the dog. When she saw him walk over to the stick then slump to the ground, chewing it into tiny splinters, she knew the game was over.

She watched him, feeling another shiver go through her body, this time actually induced from the chilly air, and not from a certain someone's skin contact. Buffy smiled as she hugged the sweater around her, bringing her cheek down to nuzzle the soft fabric. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the subtle scent of fabric softener, cologne and something undeniably Spike, finding herself wishing it was Spike's arms around her instead of his sweater.

She so wanted to keep his sweater.

Suddenly, Buffy felt a drop of water on her cheek and she looked up, confirming that the nice sunny morning was about to turn into a rainy one. “Duke!” She called, gaining the attention of the relaxing dog. “Let's get you home. Come here, bud!”

She laughed as he jumped up, galloping over to her to accept his leash and go home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You ready to go home, boy? We're almost there!” she said, getting the dog all riled up to see his owner again. “Gonna see your daddy? Maybe get some treats?”

The dog barked, his tail wagging at full speed as he picked up his pace, all but pulling Buffy closer and closer to his home.

She was worried, the dog had never pulled her around before, but she trusted him not to pull too hard. What she hadn't expected though, was the loud clap of thunder as they rounded the corner into Spike's driveway.

She held on to the leash as tight as she could as Duke ran at full speed towards the house, trying her hardest to pull him back. It was a futile effort though, the dog was way too big for her to overpower in the slightest. Duke pulled her onto the slippery grass and she lost control, slipping on the wet grass and landing on the ground with a thud, her head connecting with a rock and rendering her unconscious.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She slowly came to, instantly trying to sit up, groaning when the throbbing in the back of her skull stopped her from moving. She decided to look around without moving her head too much. She was in an unfamiliar living room and she instantly knew it belonged to Spike. The next thing she noticed was that she was on a couch. His sweater was gone, but she had a blanket tucked in around her, so she was warm.

She tried to sit up again, barely able to manage with her splitting headache. She leaned on the armrest, pulling her knees to her chest as she held the heel of her hand to her forehead. As her headache dimmed a bit, she saw Spike enter the room. She thought she might die.

Alone. In a living room. With Spike.

'Please tell me this is a coma-induced dream! Oh God, this is embarrassing!'

“What happened?” she asked, not knowing what else to say to break the silence.

“You were knocked out for a good ten minutes. I was worried for a bit, wondering if I should take you to the hospital, but I didn't think it was necessary,” he told her, holding out a glass of water and two pills. “Here, take this.”

Buffy looked up at him, offering him a shy smile as she took the proffered headache killers from him. “Before I take it, what is it?”

“Just some Advil. Will help with the headache you’ve no doubt got.”

“Thanks,” she whispered and took the heavenly pills. Anything that could take away the tiny ninjas kicking her skull was definitely of the good. “Mind if I lie here and die for a minute? I promise it won't take long.”

He laughed and sat on the chair in front of her. He must have pulled it up while she was out for the count. “It's no bother, take your time.”

“I'm guessing you saw my entirely ungraceful fall out there?” at his nod, she groaned again, scrunching her nose up as the sound reverberated in her head. “Let me just add 'embarrassment' to my list of reasons to crawl under a rock.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, love,” he smirked, leaning over to push a damp piece of hair away of her face. “Wasn't your fault. Duke is quite the heavyweight champion. 'M actually surprised your injury isn't worse, but it's just a bump. It'll go away in a couple of days.”

She blushed, subconsciously leaning in to his touch. “Duke hasn't uh... He's never done that before. Do you know why he pulled me like that?”

Spike shrugged, using his hand to cup her cheek and running his thumb across her bottom lip. “I don't rightly know. Maybe he just wanted you to stick around for a bit?”

She felt her nipples harden, pressing against her layers of clothing at his intimate touch. God, did she ever want him. “I... I suppose. H-how do you feel about my sticking around?” she asked cautiously.

“Well,” he started, then let his hand trail down her neck to her collar bone. “It allows me to take advantage of the alone time with you, so I can't complain.”

She gasped and arched her back, pushing her body against his wandering hand. “And what do you plan to do with this time alone with me?”

He took continued to touch her, running his fingers down her bare arm. “Well, I'd like to get to know you a little bit, so lets play twenty-one questions. What do you do for a living?”

“I'm an artist. I do odd jobs on the side, like walking dogs and stuff. Why are you touching me?”

He pulled his hand away as if he was burned, then looked away. “Oh, sorry. I uh... Sorry. So, what kind of artist are you? Painter, sculptor...”

Buffy whimpered at the loss of contact, missing his warm skin on hers. “A little bit of everything, mostly I paint. I uh...”

She wondered for a second if she was being too forward, wanting him to put his hands back on her body. She wondered if she would be giving him the wrong message if she just jumped into bed with him. But then again, she didn't really care. How many times would she have this opportunity? How many times would a dog knock her out, causing her to be alone in a house with the man of her dreams? He'd never seemed to be interested in her before, so it was now or never.

“Why did you stop touching me?”

Spike smirked, moving his hand to hover over her hair. Buffy saw his eyes darken, turning almost black with desire. “Do you want me to touch you?”

She shivered, letting his gravelly voice wash over her. “Do you want to touch me?” she whispered.

“Can we stop with the questions and go with the flow?”

Buffy gently grasped his hand, moving it to her chest and placing it over her breast. “Yes, please.”

TBC