“Stop. You’re hurting me!” Buffy said the words with as much surprise as anger. “Rick, Stop it!” She pulled her arm away and gasped at the sound of her favorite cardigan ripping. “I mean it. I just want to go home.”

He scowled. “Give me a break. This is our fifth date. You don’t have to put on this wounded bird routine.” When he reached for her again, she pushed open the car door and climbed out.

“Buffy, this is ridiculous!”

She slammed the door shut and, standing as tall as she could on shaking legs, she crossed her arms. “I’ll walk.”

“Get your ass back in the car.”

She shook her head. “Not a chance.”

Rick snorted “You’re such a fucking child. It’s three miles back to town. You’re not going walk back in the middle of the night. “

She walked around the car and held out her hand. “Give me my purse.” It was at least three miles back to town. Letting Rick take her to the cliffs had been incredibly stupid; she knew it was where the local teens came to make out but she’d never thought he’d get so forceful. She straightened her shoulders; she could berate herself later.

He shook his head and gave her the warm smile she now knew hid a snake’s personality. “Look, this whole thing had gotten blown out of proportion. Why don’t you just get into the car and I’ll drive you home. We talk it out tomorrow.”

“Just hand me my purse, Rick.”

The smiled vanished. “Look, bitch—”

His rant was interrupted by a deep voice coming from behind her. “Do you need a hand, miss?”

Buffy turned and gasped. Her potential help looked just as likely to be a potential problem. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, maybe his hair, which was bleached nearly white, or his well-worn black leather motorcycle jacket, but something screamed dangerous.

“Miss?” His head tilted to the side as he waited for her to respond. “Do you need some help?”

Buffy looked back at Rick.

“Just a misunderstanding, man. My girlfriend is going to get back in the car now.”

Buffy shook her head. “I’m not.”

“Buffy.” Rick shot a glance towards her mysterious stranger. “You’ve made your point. Get in car.”

The white-haired man took a few steps closer. “Think she’s made it pretty clear she’s not gettin’ in the car, mate. How about you give the girl her things now?”

“How about you fucking mind you own business, mate?” Rick snarled the words before turning back to Buffy. “I should have known you’re more work than you’re fucking worth. You think you’re so hot, right? You think you can just drag men along like they’re your fucking lapdogs.”

The white-haired man’s hand shot in through the driver’s side window and grabbed Rick’s neck.

Buffy gasped and watched with wide eyes.

“Shut your bloody hole and give the girl her bag before I forget my manners.”

Rick’s eyes went wide and he tried to pry the other man’s hand away from his neck as he gasped, “Fuck you.”

The other man jerked his hand roughly before leaning in and talking in a deep, hoarse voice. “This can go two ways. You can be a good little douche bag and hand the nice girl her bag or I can pull you out through this window and kick in your smarmy ass face. Your choice, mate.”

Gasping, Rick felt around until he found Buffy’s clutch and then tossed it out the window. The other man gave his throat a squeeze. “I said hand it to her, dickweed.” He released him and walked over to where her bag had landed. He picked it up, brushed it off and walked over her. As he held it out to her, Buffy watched Rick drive away.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she took her bag.

“Are you hurt, pet?” The stranger’s voice was softer now and, though he took a step back, he smiled just a little.

She couldn’t help rubbing the spot on her arm that she knew would be bruised by morning, but she shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

The man nodded and then glanced around. “Don’t suppose you’ve hidden yourself a car around here somewhere?”

Buffy felt her eyes sting as they filled with tears. “No. I…” She lifted her hands to her mouth.

The man’s eyes widened. “Hey…whoa…it’ll be alright. Don’t— there’s no need for that.” He sighed and stepped closer. “You’re safe now. No harm done, right?” He lifted his hand and then brought it back down to his side.

She really didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of her stranger, but she couldn’t help it. She simply felt too stupid to exist. She turned away as the first few hot drops slid down her cheeks. After a few moments she felt his hand pat her shoulder very lightly.

“There, there,” he said.

It was so awkward; he seemed so very awkward, that she laughed. “You really can’t handle crying girls, can you?”

He chuckled. “You got me there.”

“I’m sorry.” She sniffled and wiped her cheeks. “I was just…” She shook her head. “And thank you.”

He gave her another nod and she studied his face for a few seconds. He was handsome, really handsome, now that she looked. Sure his hair was kind of weird, but it didn’t look bad and he had a nice face with very blue eyes. She smiled. “I’m really lucky you came along.”

His forehead wrinkled and he shrugged. “You were handling yourself.” He looked away for a moment, frowning. “Why don’t I give you a lift back home?” He pointed to a path in the forest that Buffy assumed led to another one of the openings used for parking and then started walking.

She followed. “What’s your name?”

He stopped for an instant, but didn’t turn around. “Spike.” He continued walking.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

She swallowed and remembered her initial impression of danger. “Oh,” she said quietly. “I’m Buffy.”

“Yeah, I heard that arse say it a few times.”

She followed him back out of the woods. He stopped in front of a large black motorcycle. Her jaw dropped. “You don’t have a car?”

He turned back towards her a sighed. “I have a car. I rode the bike.”

“Oh.” She stared at it. Did he really mean to take her home on a motorcycle?

“I can go fetch my car, but that’ll mean leaving you up here all by your lonesome. You want me to do that?”

No! Her stomach plummeted at the thought, but she tried to look calm. “No,” she said quietly. “I can…this will work.”

He chuckled. “That sounded a bit like a question.”

She shrugged. “I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.”

“I’d have never guessed you had, pet.” He laughed.

She liked his laughed. It was unique; sort of deep and jagged. She could feel her cheeks warming up from his teasing.

“It’s not hard. Never had a girl fall off yet.”

Buffy nodded and tried not to point out that falling off wasn’t a problem if you were in a car. It certainly wasn’t his fault that she was in this situation. She watched him climb onto the bike with an increasing sense of dread and a little flare of something far different deep in her stomach. He really was very handsome. She’d been rescued by a handsome stranger on a motorcycle. Her lips twitched despite her nerves.

“Alright, so you just climb on behind me and hold on tight, right?’

“Right.” Except that she felt frozen in place.

“I’ll go slow,” he said gently. “It’s not so bad. Might even like it.”

Buffy doubted that, but she nodded anyway before walking over to the bike.

“Step up here.” He pointed to spot on the side of the bike. “And then swing your leg over the seat.”

Buffy was grateful he was looking forward as she followed his directions. She quickly realized that dresses and motorcycles were not meant to mix. She pulled her skirt down as far as she could and, trembling slightly from nerves, gripped the rails on the back of her seat. “Okay,” she said as confidently as she could.

“Sorry, pet. We’re gonna have to get a bit friendlier.”

She frowned. “What?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’m gonna need you to put your arms around my waist.” He said it slowly as though he was worried he might spook her.

“Oh.”

He sighed. “Would you rather wait here while I get the car? Or maybe call someone else?”

She shook her head. She definitely didn’t want to be alone. The thought of Rick coming back turned her stomach.

“I’d wait with you, pet. Not trying to scare you.”

“It’s okay.” She nodded and carefully put her arms around his middle, the leather of his jacket felt chilled through her thin cotton sweater.

“’Atta a girl.” He gently rearranged her hands so she was holding him tighter. “Where to, pet?”

“Shouldn’t we be wearing helmets?”

“Yup.”

When she realized he wasn’t going to say anything else, Buffy recited her address and tried not to think about her bare thighs brushing against his jeans. Why couldn’t she have been wearing pants?

He started the bike and took off without another word. She couldn’t hold back a squeak of surprise. He took one hand off the handle bars and patted her hand. “Just hold on tight, kitten”

She really had no choice. Buffy flattened herself against his back and squeezed her eyes shut. The highway was sheer terror, four minutes that felt like a lifetime, but once he hit the edge of town Spike slowed down and Buffy forced herself to open her eyes. She didn’t move her cheek from his leather covered back or loosen her grip around his chest, but she did try to push her hips back just a little. It didn’t work. She was pressed more intimately against this stranger than she’d been with any man in her life. The thought shocked her, but not as much as the tightening of her nipples or the tingling in her stomach did.

He stopped in front of her house a few moments later. Shaking only a little, she climbed off. “Thank you…again.”

He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

She smiled. “That’s not true.”

He looked away. “All done now—get some sleep— try not to pick such an arse next time.”

She winced. It wasn’t like she’d expected Rick to turn violent. Feeling defensive, she frowned. “It’s not like I make this a habit. I usually drive myself.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” He nodded. “You do that.” He reached for the key.

“It was our fifth date. He didn’t do anything like that before and…and my car broke down a few days ago.” She sighed. What difference did it make? Who cared what this guy thought? She knew the answer, she did. She just didn’t know why.

He was looking at her again, studying her face like he could figure her out entirely if he squinted hard enough. She lifted her chin.

“I work at Joe’s, over on Winslow,” he said finally. “You bring in your car; I’ll make sure it gets fixed up at a fair price.”

Buffy nodded. Her mom had already taken her car to a shop, but it seemed rude to say that. “Thanks…Spike.” Somehow his name didn’t seem nearly as bad when she said it herself.

He nodded once more before turning the key and taking off.

Spike swore under his breath as he yanked the wrench around. He didn’t have enough room to do the work comfortably and the shop’s one lift was already being used. He could wait and be there all night or he could squeeze under the damn car and try to make it work. He’d chosen the latter and it sucked. He pushed himself from beneath the car, blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness and stood up. “Mack, how much longer you gonna be on lift.”

Mack, a large man wearing a Hawaiian shirt with his standard navy mechanic’s pants stretched as he pulled his hands down and looked in Spike’s direction. “Fuck if I know, Spike. There’s some amateur shit in here. May have to rebuild the whole engine.”

He sighed. “Want a hand? I can’t do shit here without the lift.”

Mack nodded. “Sure.”

Spike wiped off his wrench and put it away. He was heading over to see Mack when he heard someone say his name. He turned to see a small blonde girl talking to one of the guys on the other side of the large garage. Buffy. It had been a couple of days, and he’d wondered if she was going to bring in her car. He watched the other guy point in his direction and saw her turn around. She smiled as soon as she saw him. It felt like getting punched in the stomach. He watched her walk quickly towards him, her ponytail swinging in time with her bell-shaped skirt.

“Spike,” she said. “I wanted to bring you these. You know, to say thank you for helping me.” She held up a basket.

Spike stared at it.

“You don’t have any food allergies, do you?”

He shook his head and watched her pretty pink lips curve back into a smile. They were shiny, like she’d just put on lip stuff.

“Good. I’d hoped not.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“I mean I would hate to make you cookies and then find out that you can’t eat cookies. Oh!” She frowned. “But maybe you don’t like cookies.”

“Everyone likes cookies, girl.” Charles Gunn, the only guy he worked with that he’d honestly call a good friend walked up behind him. “He loves cookies.” He reached out and took the basket form Buffy’s hands. “I’m Gunn.” He smiled charmingly, his dark eyes crinkling in the corners from the width of his grin.

Spike had no idea why it pissed him off, but it did. Buffy smiling back at Gunn only irritated him more. He wondered if Gunn was her type, but quickly dismissed the idea. He was certain that a lot of woman found his buddy attractive but this girl dated clean-cut preppy assholes. He already knew that. “Did you bring in your car?” He asked slightly more brusquely than he intended to.

She blushed. “My mom had already taken it to a shop,” she said apologetically. Why did she think he’d care?

“Good.”

“I just wanted to say thank you again.” She licked her lips. “And, you know, bring by the cookies.”

“Okay.” He nodded.

She nodded a couple more times before turning and walking away. Spike tried not to notice her well-shaped ass. “Oh.” She stopped and turned around again. “They’re chocolate chip.”

Gunn laughed. “He loves chocolate chip.”

Spike turned to scowl at him and missed her leaving. “Don’t you have work?”

“Cute girl, Spike.”

“Shove off.”

“Not your normal type.”

“She’s not—it’s nothing. Found her fighting off some country club shithead the other night and gave her a lift home. That’s it.”

“Ummhmm.” Gunn grinned. “She seems awful grateful for that ride.”

Spike glared. “She’s just a kid, mate. Leave it alone.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “But only if you share the cookies.”

Spike shoved the basket at him and stomped away.

*************************************************************************************

Buffy played with her French fries and sighed. “How do you make a guy like you? You know, if he doesn’t like you and you want him to.”

Her best girlfriends looked at each other and laughed.

“He likes you.” Cordelia said shaking her head and flipping her long dark hair back over her shoulder, before giving a toothy grin. Cordelia’s dentist adored her and loved to claim credit for the smile she’d been born with. Cordelia claimed the man had proposed a half a dozen times already, but Buffy suspected she was exaggerating.

Anya, whose shoulder length hair was blonde this week but likely to be red by the following, nodded in agreement. “You’re very pretty.”

Buffy shook her head. “No. I’m really sure he doesn’t like me.”

Her friends looked skeptical but made sympathetic sounds anyway. Buffy always thought that was one of the best things about having girlfriends; they’re always on your side.

“Have you tried doing the thing where you touch his arm and say his name?” Anya asked before finishing in her typical straightforward manner. “Guys usually like that.”

“I haven’t really had a chance to do that.” Buffy admitted.

“Then I’d say try that.”

Cordelia frowned. “Who are we talking about? Not Rick?” She sneered delicately.

Buffy shook her head emphatically. “No way. He’s…he’s a total jerk.”

“So….”

“It’s no one you know.” She took a sip of her soda and glanced around the diner. It was a dingy place with a menu that heavily featured foods found in TV dinners, but it was very close to campus so they ended up there at least once a week for lunch or what passed as lunch. For Buffy it was a big plate of French Fries today and, as she dipped another one in ketchup, she vowed to eat an actual green vegetable at dinner that night.

“That guy in your geography class?” Cordelia didn’t give things up easily. She also liked to think that she knew every attractive man in the tri-county area, had considered all of them and selected the best one.

“No. Really, you don’t know him.”

“Have you considered offering to have sex with him?”

“Anya!” Buffy felt her face get hot.

Her friend simply shrugged. “Guys like that.”

Cordelia started laughing hard.

Buffy turned her incredulous glare onto her.

“She’s not wrong,” Cordelia said, holding her stomach.

Buffy stared at them both for a few more seconds before breaking into the giggles herself.

Later, as she helped her mother make a salad for dinner, she found herself thinking about it again. “Mom, you know how you always say that you knew Dad was the one the first time you met?”

Her mother froze and looked up slowly. She nodded. “Sure, Buffy. Why?”

“How did you know?”

Her mother put the knife she’d been using down on the table and folded her hands. “I guess it was just a feeling.”

Buffy nodded. “Like he made you feel safe but also sort of…excited?”

Her mother’s eyes grew wide and Buffy wondered if she’d answer. After a moment, she nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Buffy grinned. “That’s what I thought.” She dumped the mushrooms she’d been slicing into the big bowl and stood up. “Thanks, mom.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. “I have to do something real quick before dinner. I’ll be back soon.”

“Buffy, honey, where are you—”

Buffy held up a white paper bag. “I just have to drop off the muffins I made earlier. You said food was the way to a man’s heart, right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She just hoped he was still at work. She glanced at the clock as she started the car. It was nearly five but he was probably still there. She drove over quickly and parked next to an old station wagon with a big yellow ‘for sale’ sign. Pushing down her nerves, she checked her makeup in the rearview mirror and, clutching the bag of goodies, hopped out of the car. She wished she’d thought to put on a prettier outfit before coming. Her tan capris and blue tank top were fine for hanging around at home, but a nice dress would have been better for visiting.

She spotted him quickly and headed his way. “Hi, Spike!” He turned around and frowned at her. She tried not to let it bother her. “I brought you some muffins.” She showed him her prettiest smile and held up the bag.

His gaze dropped to the bag for only a second before focusing back on her. “Why?”

“They’re muffins. You eat them. They’re blueberry—I made them myself.” His staring made her nervous and when she was nervous, she babbled.

***********************************************************************************

Spike stared at the girl. Once was odd, but this…this was too much. What was she thinking? He heard Gunn laughing and glanced over his shoulder to glare at him for a second before turning back to the girl. “Look, pet.”

“Buffy.”

He frowned.

“My name is Buffy.”

“I know.”

She shrugged. “You never say it.”

“Why would I? Why would we be talking?” He saw the flash of hurt in her hazel green eyes and wished he’d been a little gentler.

“We’re talking right now,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but why? I have work to do.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “I didn’t mean to interrupt; I just wanted to bring you the muffins.”

He sighed. “Why are you bringing me food?”

“I thought you’d like them.”

Spike saw her hopeful expression and nearly groaned. “Right.” He nodded. Fuck, but she was a cute little thing: big eyes, bouncy hair and just enough curves to warm a man’s blood. He took her elbow. “Come here.” They were attracting too much attention; he guided her to a slightly more private spot. “Look, you’re very cute.” Her instant smile was almost enough to kill him. “But I don’t do cute.” He watched her eyes widen. “So thank you for the—”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What? That’s not the point.”

“So, no? No girlfriend.”

Cute, but clearly insane. “This...” He gestured back and forth between them. “Isn’t going to happen. I’m not gonna take you to the malt shop and hold your hand or be your date for the bloody prom.”

She laughed. “Since it’s not the nineteen fifties, I would hope not.” She shook her head and grinned. “Also, I went to the prom last year…right before I graduated.” She said it slowly like maybe he wasn’t clever enough to follow.

Spike frowned; he’d guessed she was about sixteen. It seemed like he needed to tack on a couple years. It didn’t matter though. It wasn’t enough to change things. “Good for you, princess.”

“Now I’m taking classes at Sunnydale U.”

He nearly rolled his eyes. “Good. Great. Now you can go find yourself a nice college boy and bring him your goodies.”

“I don’t want to.”

Spike sighed again. “Then don’t. It doesn’t change things. I’m glad I was able to give you a hand the other night, but that’s it. Got it?”

She bit her bottom lip a little while she studied him. It was a nice lip. The girl had a gorgeous mouth. She still wasn’t his type. Spike didn’t date nice little girls. What the hell was he supposed to do with her? Buy her ice cream and watch cartoons? She was smiling again. He watched in horror as she placed her hand on his arm. “Just enjoy the blueberry muffins, Spike. I made them for you.” She smiled once more and then left.

Gunn was waiting when he went back out on the floor. “I see your girl came back.”

“Not. My. Girl.”

“Come on, man. That girl is all about you. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way she swings her little—”

Spike shoved that bag in his friend’s face. “Blueberry muffins.”

Laughing, Gunn opened the bag. “Damn, these smell great. Think she’d go out with me?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna help me with this carburetor or not?”

“Yeah, yeah….let’s do it.” He re-closed the bag and dropped it on the counter before following Spike back to the ancient red truck they were trying to will into life for the fourth time.

Spike had a problem, a huge problem that just happened to come in an almost impossibly perfect package. Morality wasn’t something that kept him up at night. He swore, drank and gambled with the best of them and with more than a few that would never be the best at anything. He was not a monk; if a nice looking bird wanted to go for a few rounds he saw no reason to deny her, provided she was the right kind of girl.

Buffy was not the right kind of girl. Hell, she was the poster child for the wrong kind: too young, too sweet, too innocent and far, far too bloody cute. Even her feet were cute. She’d worn sandals to drop off the muffins the day before and he’d found not staring at her pink painted toe nails startlingly difficult.

Pretty toes didn’t take away the giant red circle with the line through it that followed the girl around, though. His best course of action was obvious; he needed to stay away from her, because his cock did not understand the rule about messing around with virgins. Nope, his cock was all about pretty girls with great big green eyes that looked at him like he was some kind of Superman.

The problem was she wouldn’t stay away. He stared at her for a moment before speaking. She was wearing another dress, a white and green printed number with a full skirt and tiny straps tied into bows on her shoulders. She looked like she was on her way to a TV show picnic with matching plates and a super green lawn or maybe to pose for a mayonnaise ad. Yeah, he could see that. She had the sort of wholesome prettiness that casting blokes wanted to pass off as the girl next door. Spike had lived in a lot of places. He’d never had a girl like her living next door.

He sighed. “Seem to recall telling you to stop with the baked goods.”

She smiled. “It’s a turkey sandwich with avocado and bacon on sourdough.”

Fuck, that sounded good. “You do understand that the baked part wasn’t really the point, yeah?”

She shrugged. “Are you having a good day?”

He laughed. “I was…yeah, it was fine.” He tried to stress the word was, but she remained unfazed.

“What kind of music do you like?”

“Why? You gonna make me a mixed tape?” He didn’t mean to flirt; she’d simply surprised him and he’d responded without thinking.

She shook her head. “That’s kind of a boy thing. Boys make mixed tapes to impress girls. Or they did back when people still had tape players.”

“And girls bring food?”

She shrugged and grinned. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying? The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Spike’s stomach flipped. “Not mine.” He pressed the bag back into her hands.

She giggled. “We’ll see.” She walked over to the tool bench. “I’ll just leave this here. If you’re not going to eat it soon, you should put it in the fridge. The mayo could go bad if it’s out too long.” She placed the white bag carefully on the oil-stained surface and turned around to smile at him.

“You do know there are other men in town with a motorcycle, right?” It happened from time to time, he thought. Good girls got off on motorcycles. Not literally, or yeah that too, but something about the power and freedom pulled them in.

“Of course I do.” She shook her head like he was the strange one. “I should let you get back to things. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned and sashayed back out the door.

He was too distracted by the swishing of her skirt to remember that he didn’t want to see her the next day.

Gunn came over and slapped him on the back. “Congratulations, man.”

Spike frowned. “What?”

“On the impending nuptials.” He laughed at his own joke.

Spike didn’t. “She brought me a sandwich.”

Gunn’s laughter only increased. “What, does she want you to start eating healthier?”

“It’s just a crush ‘cause I helped her out the other night. She’ll get over it soon.”

His friend shrugged. “Maybe, man. The question is why do you want that. Girl brought me a sandwich…” He nodded and grinned. “Yeah.”

“She’s not…she’s going to college.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.” Spike nodded.

“Sounds legal.”

“That’s not—she should date college boys.”

Gunn frowned. “You’re smart, man. You could go back to school if you want.”

“I don’t.”

“So there’s no problem here. Take her out for tacos and let her bake you a cake.” Gunn shrugged. “Or, you know, go ahead and marry her. You’re not going to do any better; her chocolate chips cookies were better than my Mama’s.”

Spike laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell your Mum next time I see her.”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna invite you over.”

“No need. We got a standing thing every Thursday. She likes a bit of light meat.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Gunn slugged his shoulder just a little harder than was strictly friendly. “That was wrong, man. You are wrong. Don’t talk about my Mama.”

“But she just loves to talk about you. You know before—afterward she’s too tired. One cigarette and then I have to go.”

“Fuck, man!”

Spike laughed until his eyes welled up with tears. “Your face…mate, you’re so bloody easy.”

“Yeah and you’re an asshole.”

Spike nodded. There was another easy joke there, but a man can only claim to mess around with his mate’s mum so many times.

*************************************************************************************

Buffy sat with Cordelia on her bed in Cordelia’s tastefully decorated bedroom and surveyed her nail polish collection. “This is nice.” She tapped a peach color.

Cordelia nodded. “I wore it with that grey dress the first time I went out with Liam.”

Buffy laughed. “I can’t believe you remember that stuff.”

“It’s this thing, when you fall in love; everything is imprinted on your mind. Or at least it’s always like that for me.”

“Yeah.” Buffy sighed. “I get that.”

“Ooh, that’s right. You have a mystery crush. You ready to tell me who he is?”

“You really don’t know him. He’s…older.” She traced the floral pattern on Cordelia’s bedspread with her finger.

Cordelia’s right eyebrow arched perfectly. “How much older?”

“I don’t know. I mean he’s not old, just twenty something.”

Cordelia nodded. “Hmmm…like twenty-one or like twenty-nine?”

“Somewhere in the middle, I think.”

She selected a color and shook the bottle. “And where did you meet this mysterious older man?”

“He…he sort of gave me a hand when Rick…got out of hand. He’s…he is really…”

“What?” Cordelia leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with interest.

“Hot. I mean, really.”

“So you’re going out?” She twisted the cap off and pulled her knees up to her chest so that she could paint her toenails.

“Not yet, but I have a plan.”

“What kind of plan?”

“I’m going to wear him down.”

Her friend looked skeptical. “You know Liam has friends. If you want, I’m sure he’ll set you up with someone nice.”

Buffy laughed. “I’m not desperate, I’m just…decided.”

“He’s that hot?”

Buffy nodded. “Yup.” She picked up a bottle of fire engine red polish. “Can I borrow this?”

“Sure.” She looked at her quietly for a moment and Buffy knew that this was one of the rare times that her friend was considering her words before she spoke. She was a little disappointed when Cordelia settled on, “This is more you,” and picked up a pale pink. “Ooh or if you want to try something kind of different, this one is called Granny Smith it would be super cute on your toes.” Cordelia handed her a bottle of light green polish.

It would be super cute. She loved it. Buffy shook her head. “I’m going for more of a not cute look.”

***********************************************************************************

Spike wasn’t even surprised when he heard her voice the next day. To be more accurate, he wasn’t surprised until he rolled himself out from under the BMW he’d been working on and got a glimpse of her in a black leather mini skirt. He was torn between the impulse to slide back under the car and try to forget the sight and an even stronger urge to wrap her in a tarp and send her home before anyone else saw. Of course it was too late for that; she was chatting happily with Gunn.

He wiped his hands off with a rag that was too dirty to actually do any good and walked over to them. He should pretend not to notice her evocative attire, he thought. She’d clearly thought that putting on a tiny skirt and a tight red shirt would get his motor running. He didn’t need to confirm her suspicion. He swallowed, hard. If she unbuttoned her shirt and laid down across the front of a car she’d be all ready to feature in one of the magazines that Mack left in the bathroom. Where had she even found knee high leather boots? He couldn’t imagine they were sold in the same store as the pretty frock she’d worn yesterday. He just had to ignore it. He shot Gunn a glance and waited for the other man to disappear.

“New look?” Fuck! What happened to ignoring it? He railed inwardly, but was careful to project a look of casual indifference. He even leaned back against a shelf.

“Oh.” She pretended to be surprised at the question, the minx. She glanced down as if she didn’t remember what she was wearing. “Not really, just something from my closet.”

Spike nodded and tried not to laugh. Something from her closet –- his pale, British behind.

“Do you like it?” She shrugged as though the question had just occurred to her. She was just too bloody adorable.

“No.” He shook his head. “I like the way you normally dress.”

Her eyes widened slightly and he knew she was surprised. Well so was he, surprised he’d said it and even more surprised to realize that he’d meant it. He did. Spike saw girls wearing a version of Buffy’s current get-up a dozen times a week. They almost never looked as good in it as she did, but that didn’t matter. He liked her dresses, all clean and girly. She was like a beam of light in the dingy garage.

“Oh.” She looked down as her cheeks reddened. “Well, it was just something in my closet anyway.”

“Could be worse. When I wait too long to do laundry, I get stuck wearing a T-shirt with SpongeBob Squarepants that the guys gave me as a prank last year.” Why was he telling her that? She smiled and he realized why. “Anyway, unless you’ve got a car that needs work—”

“Just bringing you this.” She held out a foil-covered pie plate. “It’s cherry.”

Of course it was. He almost groaned. A thousand innuendo-filled remarks flooded his brain. He simply took the plate. “Thanks, love.”

She beamed. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you—”

“Tomorrow.”

“She nodded. “Yup.”

He sighed. “I meant what I said. You’re a nice kid, but—”

“I can vote and your hair is not naturally white.” She grinned. Even her teeth were perfect. “See you tomorrow.”

As soon as she walked out the door, the garage was filled with the sound of Warrant’s Cherry Pie blaring over the speakers. “Gunn!”

His friend came out of the office laughing. “Not me, man. That’s all Mack. You know he loves that hair band crap.”

It was enough to make a grown man cry all right.

Buffy liked her mythology class. It was interesting and the professor was kind of hot for an older guy. She’d always liked listening to him talk with his British accent. Now that accent made her think about Spike’s accent, although his was a little different. She was sure they were both British, but Spike’s accent was a little rougher around the edges, which was just that much hotter.

She’d really expected him to like her outfit yesterday, but it was actually way better that he’d said he liked what she normally wore. They’d had a moment yesterday, she was certain, and watching him pretend to not think dirty things when she handed him a cherry pie was absolutely the most fun she’d had all week. He acted all tough, but he was totally adorable.

He’d called her love. Just thinking about it made her stomach flutter. Once, the night they’d met, he’d called her kitten. That was still her favorite, but love was pretty great too.

Willow, one of her classmates, reached over and tapped her arm. “Buffy? Don’t you think you should write down the assignment?” She looked concerned.

“What? I mean, yeah.” She laughed. “I guess I’m a little out of it.”

Willow handed her notebook over. “Here I wrote it all down. You can just copy.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you sick? I have some Tylenol in my backpack.”

“No. I’m fine - just daydreaming a little.”

Willow smiled and nodded. “I do that sometimes.” She frowned. “Not in class normally, but when I’m in my room or, well, not the library, but other places.”

Buffy grinned. “That makes sense.” She held back the urge to tease her new friend a little about her extreme academic interest. Willow was too sweet to tease back. Instead she copied the information into her notes and then leaned closer. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Her friend’s face lit up and she nodded. “You definitely can.”

“I think I’m in love, really in love. I can’t stop thinking about this guy and it’s like, no matter what happens when I’m with him, that’s the best part of the day.”

“That’s great!”

“It kinda is.” She handed Willow back her notebook and gave her a spontaneous hug. “Thanks!”

“No problem. That’s what friends do.”

After class Buffy hurried home to frost the brownies she’d baked the night before and fix her make-up before going to see Spike. She wondered if he’d like her dress. It was one of her favorites, a white cotton sundress with eyelet details on the trim that really showed off her tan. She used barrettes to pull her hair back on the sides but left it down in back. Cordelia said that men liked it when woman wore their hair down. Buffy figured it was worth a try. She switched out of the ballet flats she’d worn to class and into a pair of peep toed wedges. Everyone knew that heels made a girl’s legs look better.

She got to the garage just a few minutes before five and hurried inside. She saw Gunn first and waved a friendly hello.

He grinned. “Hey there. I thought we weren’t gonna see you today. We’re closing up right now.”

Her stomach plummeted. “Is Spike still here?” She tried not to sound as worried as she felt.

Gunn laughed loudly. “Yeah, your boy’s still here. He’s not much of a morning person so, last in and last out.” He pointed to the office door. “I think he was just giving a couple of updates.”

“Oh.” She looked over at the door in relief. “I mean, cool.” She smiled at Spike’s friend again, not wanting to be rude.

“How about you just tell him I said goodbye and I’ll be on my way.”

“Okay! I…can tell him that.” She winced but Gunn didn’t look insulted.

He gave her a little salute and headed out the way she’d come in.

Buffy lifted the tray of brownies and headed in to the office. Spike was on the phone, but he looked up just as she walked in and stuttered over a word. Buffy smiled and signaled that he should finish his call. She turned away and pretended to study the line of hooks where the keys were hung. When she heard him say goodbye she turned back around. “Gunn wanted me to tell you that he was leaving.”

“Is that right?”

The butterflies in her stomach were learning to Tango. How could anyone make three words sound so perfect? “Yeah.” She stepped towards him, her heart pounding. There was a smudge of grease or oil or something on his cheek. Looking at it only made her notice how full his lips were. “I…I made you brownies.”

He laughed, just a little. “Why am I starting to feel like I’m being fattened up for slaughter, pet?”

Pet! Oh, that was another good one. “You’re not even a little bit fat.”

“So you’re calling me skinny, now?”

“I…” What? “I think you’re…perfect.” They may have been whispered, but she got the words out.

He swallowed and she waited.

Nothing. He just stared at her while her stomach churned and her hands shook.

Finally, he sighed. “I’m not.” Buffy was about to argue but he reached out and took the brownies. “Don’t you have homework or something? Seems like you’re spending a lot of time in the kitchen.”

Buffy slid her finger through the layer of sticky dust on the desk. “I can read while things are in the oven. It doesn’t take too long. Is there anything you especially like?”

He made a funny noise in his throat and shook his head.

“I was thinking oatmeal cookies for tomorrow. They’re almost healthy and after all that chocolate—” His hand on her chin made her freeze. She lifted her eyes to his and waited.

“Do you know what I’m thinking about right now?” His voice was very deep and very quiet. It made her shiver.

“No.”

“It’s not your cookies.”

“What?”

He chuckled hoarsely, let go of her chin and turned his face away. “Trust me, love. You don’t want to know.”

“I do.” She took another step towards him. “Tell me.”

He turned back, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up to sit on the desk. While she gasped in surprise, he stepped between her knees and cupped her face between his hands. He smelled like cars and dirt and artificial orange scented cleanser. She stared at him dazedly, wanting him to kiss her more than she’d ever wanted to be kissed in her life.

“I’m thinking about your panties, kitten. Are they already wet for me? How many pretty words would it take to get you to give it up to me right here on a filthy desk in the back of car shop?” His eyes settled on her mouth. “I’m a bad, rude man, Buffy. You’d do best to stay away. Find yourself someone a little more your speed.” He released her face, but didn’t move away.

“You’re not bad.”

He leaned so close to her ear that she could feel his breath, warm against her neck. “Yes, love, I am.”

Buffy tilted her head so that her cheek touched his. “You didn’t have to help me. You could have just left. A lot of people would have, but you didn’t. And you’re right, you could have tried to take advantage already or you could right now, but you haven’t and you won’t.”

He brushed his mouth over hers so lightly that she almost thought she’d imagined it. “I might.”

“No. You’re trying to scare me off by talking…dirty, because you think it’s the right thing to do. And that just proves you’re a good man.” She was almost breathless.

He backed away from her like she was on fire. “Fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Please go home now.”

Buffy pushed herself off the desk, but her legs were shaking too much to walk. She stood there gripping the edge behind her and watching Spike’s chest rise and fall. His eyes opened slowly and his gaze traveled slowly down her body.

Still looking at her feet, he said “I won’t apologize.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I—there’s grease on your face. The back of your frock is probably ruined just from touching that desk.”

“It’s white. I’ll use bleach.” Buffy tried to shrug as though this was a casual conversation. She missed his closeness, but didn’t think she could make it across the room just yet.

“Brilliant.” He glanced at the door and then back at her.

Buffy’s heart stopped. She didn’t breath. She didn’t move. She did absolutely nothing but look at his incredibly blue eyes. He was doing it again, squinting at her as though he knew the secret dreams she didn’t even know she had.

He came closer. “Are you going to come here tomorrow?”

The question threw her for a moment. “Are you working? It’s Saturday.”

He nodded before answering quietly. “Just for a couple of hours mid-day. I want to finish up a job for someone.”

Her mouth felt too dry to talk. She licked her lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Right.” He nodded and walked out of the room.

It took Buffy another three minutes to make her legs work enough to go home.

******************************************************************************

Spike was getting drunk. It wasn’t the mature thing to do but at the moment, he honestly didn’t give a royal fuck.

Gunn watched him down his drink and whistled. “Damn man. I still don’t understand the big deal here. She’s a little younger. My Dad was ten years older than my Mama and they got on fine. And you’re only looking at, what six or seven years.” He shrugged. “You like her, she likes you. This is not a real problem. Famine, ball cancer-those are real problems.”

Spike’s oldest friend, Clem Adams, dropped into the seat beside him. “It’s not about her age.” He paused. “Well, it’s not entirely about her age. Have you not noticed that Spike hasn’t dated a girl he actually gives a shit about since high school?”

Gunn nodded.

“I’m sitting right here, asswads. And we’re not on Oprah, so shut your gobs.”

Clem ignored him completely and continued talking to Gunn. “Not since Dru cheated on him. Way I see it, there’s two possibilities here. First, Spike here remembers getting his own innocent little heart broken and doesn’t want to risk hurting the girl. Or, Spike here remembers getting his own innocent little heart broken and thinks this girl has a shot at doing it for him again.” He took a sip of his drink. “Could be both.” He looked over at Spike. “What do you think?”

“I think,” he said. “That you like to talk shit.” He downed the rest of his drink. “Are we playing pool or not?”

Clem shook his head. “I’ve got a poker game in a few minutes. I’d invite you in but you’re too busy wallowing in the misery of a pretty girl wanting to jump your bones.”

Gunn laughed. Hard. “We’re calling her Cherry Pie at the garage,” he told Clem. “Seriously, you gotta see this girl. Just a matter of time before she shows up in a bikini top and cut off shorts.”

“She is not going to—Are you gonna play?” Spike lifted his empty glass to his lips and then scowled when nothing came out. He stood up and headed back up to the bar. What the hell did Clem know? So he didn’t want to get involved with virgin drama, so what? That didn’t make him some kind of scared loser. It just made him smart. Spike knew he was just trying to do the smart thing. Of course he’d rather not see the girl hurt, but that had more to do with his not being a monster than it did with some barely remembered girl from high school.

So Drusilla had played him. He’d been an idiot, sixteen and lonely. Of course he’d fallen for the first girl to notice he had a cock. What guy wouldn’t have welcomed the attention of a sexy older girl? His problem was making too much out of it. She’d only been looking to ease some boredom and he’d had to make out like they were soul mates. Certainly a nicer girl wouldn’t have strung him along, but she’d never claimed to be a nice girl and, even as dumb and inexperienced as he was, he should have seen her for what she was. Dru was a bitch.

Buffy wasn’t. No, she was way too much like he’d been back before he’d wizened up. She was trouble and he was going to stay away. He should have stayed away earlier. He definitely shouldn’t have touched her. But how much was a man supposed to take? She’d come by every day that week, prancing around the garage in her pretty little dresses, handing out cookies and making moon eyes at him.

And she’s bloody gorgeous. Spike held up two fingers for the bartender. Why the hell did she have to be so goddamned gorgeous? The memory of her mouth open and waiting for his had him gripping the edge of the bar. Things had gotten out of hand earlier, but they could have easily gotten worse. God, he’d wanted to let things get so much worse. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted someone so badly.

Why the hell had he told her that he’d be at work? He could have had two whole days of peace. It was official, he was a dumbass.

**************************************************************************

Buffy couldn’t sleep. That night she lay on her bed reliving her visit to the garage. She couldn’t say she hadn’t been a little scared when Spike had grabbed her so suddenly, but mostly she’d been excited. He was so intense. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was sure that Spike felt nearly everything more deeply than most people. He didn’t show it. He played everything cool, until he couldn’t anymore. She’d had a peek under his mask earlier and was all the more intrigued by what she’s seen.

Of course, when she replayed the afternoon in her mind, she made a few changes. She couldn’t help but wish she’d been braver and cleverer. She should have kissed him. His mouth had been so close. All she would have had to do was move her head an inch. An inch would have changed the entire situation.

But she’d never been the initiator before. Oh maybe she’d given a couple of small pecks to nice boys, but she’d never really kissed a man before he’d started it. She’d bet anything that Spike was a good kisser. His lips were…delicious. She was sure. She could tell just by looking at them.

Buffy wondered what he would have done if she’d kissed him. Surely he’d have kissed her back. He’d have taken over, deepened the kiss and taken her to places she’d never been.

Being a virgin didn’t mean she wasn’t interested in sex. She was. She thought about it plenty and she’d come to several important decisions. The most recent and most important of those decisions was that Spike was the one, The One—capital t, capital o. Of course that made a lot of sense, he was definitely the most interesting and sexy man she’d ever met and he was going to be her husband.

She figured they’d probably have sex before they got married though, and, if she’d learned anything that afternoon, it was that sex with Spike was going to be amazing.

The Clash’s I Fought the Law blared through the garage’s speakers as Spike finished replacing a timing belt in a Toyota. He didn’t often work on the weekend, but when he did he took advantage of the opportunity to play something he liked.

As he worked, he wondered if he’d finish before Buffy came by or if she even would after he’d scared her the day before. And he wondered if her not coming was what he truly wanted. The question grew moot when she strolled in shortly after noon wearing a blue tank top and a white skirt that nearly reached her knees. She was carrying a basket.

“Hi.” She seemed almost shy. The idea amused him. He had himself a shy stalker. Of course that wasn’t entirely true since he could no longer claim that he hadn’t encouraged her.

He smiled. “Hi, yourself.”

She held out the basket. “Oatmeal raisin.”

“My favorite.” He took the basket, flipped the napkin she’d placed on top to the side and snatched out a cookie, taking a bite immediately. He nodded. “Good.” He held the basket towards her.

She shook her head. “I had one before they were cooked.”

Spike laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I ate raw cookies.”

“Should I just bring you the dough next time?”

“No.” Spike put the basket down on a bench. “You shouldn’t bring me anything.”

She laughed. It was a pretty sound, light and soft. “That’s not gonna happen. It’s barely been over a week. I could never give up so easily.”

“That so?”

“Yup. Besides, you like me.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” She grinned triumphantly.

Spike dropped down to sit on the bench beside the cookie basket. “Any big plans tonight?”

“Why? You gonna ask me out?”

He chuckled. She was cute, all right and not wrong; he did like her. He liked her way too much. “I am not asking you out. I was making conversation. Seemed like the polite thing.”

She sighed wistfully. “It’s just as well. A few of us are getting together for a friend’s birthday tonight.”

“And what does that look like? Cake and ice cream?”

She nodded solemnly. “Yes, and then, if my mommy will give me tokens, we’ll go to Chuck E. Cheese.” She laughed. “There’s a Thai place over in Greenspring. We’re meeting there.”

He wondered if he could get her to call him Daddy. That was the kind of thing that was so wrong it might just end up back on the side of right. Maybe she’d wear knee socks.

“Spike?”

“Huh?”

“Where’d you go?”

“Umm…I uh, I guess I was thinking about work.” Or about bending you over one of the cars and flipping up your skirt. Fuck, he thought, I’m a bad, bad, man.

“Oh.” She looked sad for a minute. “I guess I shouldn’t be holding you up this long.”

“Not your fault. I’m bein’ bad company.” He pulled out another cookie. “Thanks for these. They’re brilliant.” Maybe he could just friend-zone her. That could work.

Her cheeks turned a particularly tasty shade of pink and he wanted to lick them. Yeah, that’d be friendly. He’d bet anything though that she tasted like strawberries and cream. “I’m glad you like them,” she said. Her eyes were wide and taking on the glossy sheen she’d gotten the night they’d met. It was the look that said she thought he was a hero. He knew he needed to persuade her to the truth, but for just a minute it was damned nice to bask in that worshipful gaze. It was almost enough to make him want to be the sort of man that deserved such things.

“You should probably go get ready or something, I suppose.”

“Yeah, this is okay for a drop off cookies outfit, but I’ll need to put together a night on the town outfit.”

Spike couldn’t help grinning. “You’d best do that then.” He paused for a few seconds before adding, “I won’t be here tomorrow.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah.”

“So, I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Unless you meet a nice guy while you’re out and about and decide to stalk him instead.”

She giggled again. “Not gonna happen, Spike.”

“A man can dream, can’t he?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Have a good weekend.” She turned and walked out.

“You too, love, have a good weekend,” Spike called out, wishing that he didn’t suspect her visit would be the highpoint of his.

*************************************************************************************

The oatmeal cookies were followed by lemon bars on Monday, pumpkin muffins on Tuesday and peanut butter cookies on Wednesday. On Thursday, Buffy decided it was time to up the ante. She was making progress. She knew it. Spike hadn’t admitted it and he’d certainly come no closer to kissing her or asking her out , but his requests for her to stop baking or to bring her treats elsewhere were clearly becoming an inside joke and a couple of times now he had eaten one while she was still there. Buffy really liked watching his mouth while he ate.

What she needed was a really impressive recipe, a treat that would knock his socks off. She sat at the kitchen table flipping through her mother’s old Betty Crocker cookbook and sighing. “Mom,” she called out. “What’s the best, like most impressive, cookie?”

Her mother’s laughter flitted in from the living room. “I’m not sure there’s an answer to that question, sweetie.”

“Arghh!” Buffy closed the book. “But I need a really good recipe.” She stood up and walked over to pout at her mother from the breakfast bar that separated the two rooms. “A special recipe.”

Her mother sighed. “Honey, have you ever considered that maybe this guy isn’t—”

“He’s the one, mom. I’m positive.” Buffy could see that her mom was skeptical but she wasn’t about to be deterred.

“If you’re sure.” Her mom shrugged. “You said he’s British, right? Maybe you can find a recipe for shortbread cookies or scones?”

Buffy grinned and bounced on her toes. “You’re…awesome! That’s a great idea!” She hurried back into the kitchen and dropped to her knees in front of the low shelf that held the cook books. Surely there was a recipe for British treats in one of them.

Three hours later she walked into the garage carrying a large paper bag filled with cream scones. She’d followed the recipe exactly, despite it containing a few odd steps that seemed unnecessary to her. They were yummy. She was sure of that, but she just hoped they tasted right. Her stomach churned from nerves. She gave Gunn a little wave as she passed him and headed to the car that Spike had been working on the day before. It apparently needed a lot of work, as he was once again bent over working on the engine.

Buffy couldn’t help but notice that his butt looked especially nice. The thought brought a smile to her lips and a touch of heat to her cheeks. “Hi,” she said cheerfully.

Spike stood up, turned and stretched. “Right back at you, kid.” His tee-shirt was too short, when he raised his arms over his head it rode up leaving a patch of pale but well-muscled stomach bare. Buffy’s mouth went dry.

“You all right?” His forehead was crinkled slightly and his head tipped to the side.

“Huh? I mean, yeah…I’m good. I…umm…I brought you…”

He laughed. The sound made her thighs ache. She wondered if that was why he did it. Could he possibly know how much his laugh affected her?

“Scones.” She pushed the bag towards him. “I thought maybe you’d like something from home, your home.”

His eyes widened and he just looked at her for a second before opening the bag. “Thanks, kitten. This is…this is nice.” He nodded for a few seconds. “Come in back with me. I have something for you too.”

Buffy’s heart nearly bounced out of her chest. He had something for her? She hoped it was a kiss. Oh yeah, she was definitely voting for a kiss. She followed him with as much coolness as she could muster into the break room next to the office. They were alone. She nearly squeaked with excitement. He had obviously brought her to a private area to kiss her. She grinned, pleased that she’d had a tic-tac before coming in.

She waited as patiently as she could while he washed his hands, even though it seemed to take forever. He scrubbed all the way up to his elbows with an ugly plastic brush and orange soap before leaning down to rinse it all off. He turned back to her as he dried off with a couple of paper towels. “There, on the table.”

Buffy frowned. Huh?

He pointed to a large brown grocery sack. “I figured your cupboards must be about empty by now.”

Buffy looked at the bag; it was not a kiss. “Oh. I thought you were…”

“What did you think?”

She almost groaned out loud. “Nothing. I was confused. It’s not important.”

His eyebrows were arched high on his forehead. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah. Definitely of the good.” She gave him a big grin before walking over to the table to look inside the bag.

“It’s just flour and sugar and whatnot. I asked a girl at the market and she helped to pick out some stuff.”

He’d given her flour. What did that mean? And why did he have to get some other girl to help him at the grocery store? She wondered if he’d flirted with the other girl. “Oh, that was nice of her.”

“Did I get the wrong stuff, love?”

Buffy shook her head. “No, this is great. This should keep the cookies coming for another week easy.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

He shrugged and looked away. “It’s nothing. Like I said, I felt bad thinking that you used up all you food on me.”

“That’s sweet but, at the risk of ruining any chance I have of convincing you that I’m not a child, I should admit that my mom pretty much gets all the groceries. And, she doesn’t mind my using them to bake things for you.”

“Your mum is aware that you bring baked goods to a strange man every day?”

“Yup.”

“And it doesn’t bother her?”

Buffy couldn’t hold back a giggle at his expression. “Actually, she said I should invite you over for dinner sometime but I figured you weren’t ready for that yet.”

“I’m not much of a ‘bring home to meet the folks’ type.”

“If you say so.”

“I’m not kidding.” He frowned at her. He was seriously sexy when he was frowning. Her fingers itched. She wanted to reach up and trace his lips.

She licked her lips. “Okay.”

“Don’t you have classes this afternoon?”

Damn! She glanced at the clock and nodded. “Yeah, I have to hurry I guess.” She reached out and gathered the large bag in her arms. “Thanks again.”

“Here.” He held out his hands. “That bag’s bigger than you. I can bring it out to the car.” He stepped closer and took the bag from her, his hands brushed across her forearms.

Buffy inhaled quickly at the contact. “Thanks.” She sounded breathless.

“Lead the way, pet.” He tipped his head towards the door.

“Right.” Buffy spun around and walked back out through the garage and to her car. When they got there, she opened the hatch in the back and waited while Spike placed the bag inside.

He reached up, closed the hatch and smiled. “You’re all set. Best get to class.”

“I like your eyes.” Her own eyes widened and the blood drained from her face as realized that she’d spoken out loud. “I mean…” She turned away. “I just mean that those are nice eyes…to have.”

He chuckled softly. “I wear contacts, so I’d say they could be better.”

“I meant—”

He reached over and gave her ponytail a tug. “I know what you meant, kitten.” He chuckled again and shook his head, but he was giving her such a soft look that she couldn’t help smiling back. He pulled his arm back down and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You don’t want to be late.”

Buffy was pretty sure that she couldn’t care much less about being late at that moment but she resisted the urge to embarrass herself again by telling him that. She nodded and opened the front door. “See you tomorrow.”

Spike nodded once before he turned and walked back into the garage. Buffy waited until the door was closed behind him before she put the car in drive.

*****************************************************************************

Of course he noticed when she didn’t show up on Friday, but he wasn’t worried. Okay, he was a little concerned, but only because she’d seemed rather dazed the day before. Spike figured she had gotten busy or had too many classes that day. It wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like she had to come see him.

When she didn’t show again on Monday, he was officially worried but too cool to admit it. On Tuesday, he was still cool, but he did drive by her house a few times. The house was there and looked exactly the same as it had the night he’d given her a ride home, but her car was not in the driveway.

By midday on Wednesday, when he had not seen her for nearly a week, Spike started to wonder if she had actually moved on. He knew the idea should have made him happy, but it didn’t. More importantly, he didn’t think it was true. She’d seemed no less intent on her plan when she’d last been by.

When he drove by that night, her car was there. He stopped his bike on the other side of the street and looked at the house. A couple of lights were on. Maybe she would walk by a window and he’d know that she was fine.

After a few minutes, the front door opened and she stepped out on to the porch. She was wearing pink and green striped pajamas and she wrapped her arms across her chest. “Were you going to come up and knock or just stare from the street,” she called out.

Spike sighed. She was the stalker. Why did she get to play this cool? He stepped off his bike and walked, slowly over to her. She looked tired, but otherwise fine. “I found myself wondering if you’d gotten into more trouble.”

She smiled. “You were worried about me.”

“A little.” Spike shrugged. “Thought you might be sick.”

Her smile wilted like flowers left on the backseat of a car. “My mom was…I had to take her to the hospital last week.” Her eyes clouded for a moment. “She’s better now. I brought her home yesterday, but I’ve been taking care of her.” She looked up at him. “Do you want to come in?”

“Oh that’s not—I don’t want to disturb—”

“My mom is sleeping upstairs. You won’t bother her.” She grinned suddenly and impishly. “Of course with her just upstairs you also don’t have to worry about me jumping you or anything. Should be safe.”

Yeah, he thought, that’s exactly what I’m worried about. He chuckled. Spike knew that if things ever got out of hand between them it was going to be his fault. “Alright.” He nodded and followed her in the front door, through a tidy living room filled with beige furniture and into the kitchen.

She pointed at the stools next to the kitchen island. “I was going to make some cocoa. Do you want some or, I mean, coffee?” She winced.

“Chocolate sounds great.” He watched her gather a pot from the rack, chocolate from a cabinet, milk from the refrigerator and sugar from the bowl. Apparently Buffy didn’t use a mix. “Do you want to tell me what’s happening with your mum?”

She tensed for a few seconds, her hand jerked splashing the milk she’d just poured into the pot. “She’s going to be okay. Really. It’s just a bad flu, some weird strain. But since my dad—died—it’s just us. So…”

Spike knew he should stay seated on the stool, but he found himself walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder anyway. “You were scared.”

She nodded without turning around.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

She shut off the stove and turned around. “Would it be okay if I gave you a hug?” Her eyes were lowered but he could see a few tears trapped in her lashes.

Spike reached over and cupped her cheek, raising her gaze up to his. “Should probably warn you, I might steal a kiss if you do.” He watched her eyes widen slightly before he slid an arm around her back and pulled her to him. She rested her cheek against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. He squeezed her tightly and pressed his lips against the crown of her head. She smelled sweet, like cherries and vanilla maybe. He wasn’t certain, but he liked it.

She laughed softly. “That doesn’t count.”

“No?” He wondered if it would count if she knew that he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. He gave her another squeeze before stepping back. “I guess you got off lucky then.” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek before walking back to the stool he’d been seated at.

She turned the stove back on and, with far steadier movements, continued making their hot cocoa. She looked tiny in her flannel pajamas, but somehow watching her slice the chocolate and whisk the milk with such quiet efficiency made her seem older. He supposed it was simply because they seemed like things his Mum would have done.

He accepted the steaming mug she held out a few minutes later with a smile. “Thanks, kitten.”

“It’s still hot, so—”

He laughed. She might be taking the whole mum thing a bit too far. “I’ll try not to burn my tongue in my impatience.”

“Good.” She nodded as her gaze settled on his mouth. He watched her cheeks turn pink and had to shift on his seat. She was the kid but his cock apparently reverted back to age fourteen in her presence. “Oh!” She looked up. “Did you want marshmallows?”

“The little ones?”

“Yeah, for the cocoa?”

“I love the little marshmallows.”

She giggled and put her own mug down on the counter. “Okay, then.” She walked back to the cabinet she taken the chocolate from, opened the door, rose up on her toes and reached for the top shelf. After a few moments, Spike went over to help. He stepped behind her and snatched down the bag from its spot three centimeters beyond her fingertips. If he inched his feet forward even the tiniest bit, Spike knew the entire length of their bodies would touch. He imagined resting his hands on the counter, trapping her in his arms and tasting her pretty skin. He’d start at the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Just the thought of closing his lips there made him moan deep in his throat.

She gasped and slowly turned to face him. Spike took a single step back and held up the bag. “You want to go grab a pizza tomorrow night?”

Buffy took the bag of marshmallows and nodded. “Yes.”

“Alright then, we’ll do that.” He turned and walked back to his seat. He needed to keep the kitchen island between them.

“Spike?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look up. He kept his gaze on his mug and took a tentative sip. “This is good. Best I’ve ever had maybe.” He placed it back on the counter. It was still too hot.

She reached over and dumped several marshmallows in. “What’s your real name?”

“Does it matter?”

He didn’t see her move, but suddenly she was in front of him, putting her small hands on his knees and stepping close. “I just want to know.”

“What if it’s Eugene or Francis?”

She giggled. “Then I guess I’d understand why you prefer Spike. Is it Eugene or Francis?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Tell me.”

He brought face down so their noses almost touched. “What do I get if I do?” He could see chest rising and falling quickly but couldn’t be certain whether that meant she was scared or she was excited.

“What do you want?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Unh, unh. Not how this works. You have to make me an offer. What are you willing to give?”

“For your name?” She licked her lips. He could feel her hands trembling against his knees.

“How badly do you want it?” She swayed just a little and he took her elbow in his hand. He shouldn’t be playing with her, not like this, but he couldn’t help himself. “How bad, kitten?”

She leaned in and he knew she expected him to kiss her; instead he brought his mouth close to her ear and spoke very quietly. “If you’re not ready to make an offer, you’ll just have to wait.” He sat back and reached for his mug.

Buffy lifted her hands off his knees and, still shaking visibly, began unbuttoning her top. She had two undone and was starting on the third when Spike grabbed her hands. “Whoa, pet. What are you doin’?”

“Making an offer.” Even her voice trembled, but she lifted her chin and met his gaze.

Spike pulled her hands down. “You’re overbidding. You have to start with something small, like extra marshmallows.” He carefully redid her second button.

“You’ll tell me your name if I give you more marshmallows?” She frowned.

“’Course not. But that’s where you start.” He caught her chin between his thumb and pointer. “Then you’ll try offering some cookies or maybe a bit of cake. Eventually, you’ll work your way up to offering me a kiss.”

“And then you’ll tell me your name?”

“And then, I’ll tell you my name.” He slid his thumb over her bottom lip. “It’s William and I like it well enough, just prefer Spike.”

“William,” she said his name quietly and he knew she was just testing the feel of it but he found that he liked the way her mouth moved when she said it.

“Say it again.”

“William.”

He swallowed hard. “Good.” He slid his hand around to cup the back of her head, pulled her mouth to his, and kissed her. He knew he should keep it soft, a beginning to get to know you kiss. He knew that, but he kissed her the way he wanted to anyway, sliding his tongue over her lips to taste the hot chocolate on her tongue. She melted against him, clutching the sides of his jacket and trying to match the movements of his mouth. He bunched her shirt in his hand at the small of her back so two of his fingertips rested on her skin. She whimpered and pushed herself against him.

She’d never hidden her interest in him, but until that moment Spike had assumed it was a simple crush because he’d helped her when she’d needed it. It was suddenly clear that she felt the chemistry between them every bit as much as he did. She wanted him. And that made it all the harder to pull away. He did anyway.

“Oh.” She stared at him with wide eyes as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Yeah.” Spike nodded.

“But I never actually offered the kiss.”

He laughed and took a couple of long sips of chocolate before standing up. “Kitten.” He dropped a quick, closed mouth kiss on lips. “You’ve been offering up that kiss for weeks now.” He touched his finger to the tip of her nose. She had a particularly adorable nose. “Is seven too late tomorrow?”

“No. That’s—that’s good.”

“Alright. I’ll pick you up then.” He frowned. “Do you need anything first? Want me to fetch groceries or medicine for your mum?”

She shook her head. “No, but thank you, I ran out for a few minutes when she was napping this afternoon.”

“As long as you’re set.”

“I am.”

Spike walked to the door with her following. He turned. “Good night, little girl.” He licked his lips and smirked. “Don’t you go thinking naughty thoughts about me tonight.” He watched her cheeks go red and chuckled. “Just teasing.” He leaned down. “You feel free to let your mind go wherever it wants. Guarantee mine’s dirtier.”

He turned and walked away.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Buffy bit her lip and studied her mother’s complexion, happy to see the pink returning to her cheeks.

Her mom laughed. “Yes. I believe my forty-one years of life have prepared me to be alone for a few hours.”

“But if you’re still feeling bad, I could just postpone. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Are you sure you want to go out with a guy who didn’t seem interested until you were no longer around? That seems—”

“It’s not like that, mom. He was worried and came by to see if I was okay.” Buffy grinned. “He actually asked if I wanted him to fetch medicine for you.” Buffy used air quotes around the word fetch. “He’s really very sweet.”

“Okay, sweetie. Have fun, just be careful.”

“Will do. Do you need anything else before I go get ready?”

“Not a thing. Go. Primp.”

Buffy giggled before leaning down to give her mom a quick hug. “I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Buffy. Now, stop worrying about me. I’m fine.”

Buffy nodded. Having just seen her mother in a hospital bed, the scare was fresh. Still her mom was looking much more like her usual self and she had plenty of tea and soup made up and a stack of magazines and movies on her bedside table. There was nothing else for Buffy to do.

Deciding on a dress took far longer than Buffy considered reasonable, but when she finally stood in front of the mirror and studied the results of her hour of date preparation she was pleased. She was wearing the white dress she’d worn the day they’d nearly kissed in the office at the garage. She’d been right, bleach had taken care of the dust stains and it showed no sign of having ever looked less than pristine. Buffy figured Spike should see that. She also thought that maybe he especially liked her in this dress since it was what she’d been wearing when his wall had started cracking.

She paired it with some red wedged heels and a matching clutch. Anya had once told her that seeing the color red made guys think about sex. Buffy was hoping that was true. She was also hoping that leaving her hair down and putting on a bit of eyeliner made her look older. She needed Spike to stop worrying about her age. It was completely bewildering to her that he thought nineteen was so young.

She heard the knock on the door at one minute past seven. Spike was awfully prompt for a bad boy. Buffy answered the door with a smile. “Hi.” She nearly gasped at the sight of him. He’d been wearing a white t-shirt with dark blue jeans or mechanic’s uniform pants every other time she’d seen him, but this time he was wearing black from head to toe. If asked, Buffy would have thought black jeans were too dated, but on Spike they were a revelation.

“You look very pretty tonight, pet. Are you all ready? Mum’s okay?”

Buffy managed to nod but nothing else. As far as she knew, words to describe her feelings simply did not exist.

“Buffy?”

She nodded again.

“You all right? Seem a bit…off.” His eyes narrowed slightly and his forehead wrinkled as he looked at her.

She was blowing it. She had to pull herself together. “I’m great and…ready to go.” She stepped out on to the porch and frowned. “Where’s your bike?”

He laughed. “Knew you were only interested in my bike.”

“No! That’s not—I just thought you’d—”

“I thought my car was better choice since you seemed terrified last time.”

“Oh. That makes sense. That’s really nice, actually.”

He walked around to the passenger side of the large black sedan and opened the door. “In you go, then.”

Buffy climbed in, carefully arranging the skirt of her dress under her legs. “Thanks.”

He shut her door, walked around and climbed into his seat while she buckled her seat belt. “Course I also figured having the stick shift in the way might help you keep your paws to yourself.”

She gasped. “Spike!”

He laughed. “I’m just sayin’. You got awfully handsy when we rode the bike together.”

Buffy was sure her face now matched her purse. She resisted the urge to cool her cheeks with her hands and gave Spike’s shoulder a swat instead. “You said I had to put my arms like that. I was not… handsy.”

“Do you believe everything strange men tell you?”

She just stared at him. He couldn’t be serious. “You mean—”

He chuckled as he reached over and patted her knee. “I’m just teasing, kitten. I did try to warn you that I’m a bad sort.” He winked.

Her stomach tumbled. It was official; her date was the hottest man in the entire world.

She tried to think of something to say as he started the car and drove the two miles to Sunnydale Pizza, but her mind was stuck on the memory of his kissing her the night before. It had been, quite simply, the best kiss she’d ever had. She wanted to repeat the experience. “So I guess you’ve gone out with a lot of girls.” She almost groaned. What was she thinking? Who asks stuff like that?

“Tons.”

“What?”

He nodded as he parked the car. “Not gonna lie to you, love. There have been a lot of girls: tall ones, short ones, redheads, large bottoms, small bottoms, girls with really nice breasts, Asian twins, a librarian, a nurse, a racecar driver, a gymnast—did I mention the girls with small bottoms?”

She just stared. He was teasing, probably, but…

He laughed and finally turned towards her. “Oh! Your face! Oh you’re too bloody cute…and easy. Honestly, who asks that?”

“Right.” Buffy turned away. He was right, but she was still hurt. She took a deep breath. He’d been teasing; she wasn’t going to let it ruin her night, unless that was the point.

He sighed and put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, look here. I’m sorry. I was being a right prat.”

She turned back to him. “Is this a real date, Spike? Or are you—I don’t know—trying to prove that you’re no good for me or something?”

His eyes widened. “Can’t say I didn’t consider it,” he admitted quietly.

“Right.” Buffy nodded. “Then you can just take me home. I’ll wait until you’re ready to try it for real.”

“I considered it, but I wasn’t going to try, Buffy. I promise.” He shrugged. “That was just me bolloxing this up all on my own.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her legs up so she could turn all the way towards him. “I get it. You think I’m naïve and maybe stupid.”

“Not that,” he said firmly. “College girl.”

“Fine, just naïve then. You might be right. I’m probably out of my league here. It’s not that you’re older, it’s that you’re you.”

“And who am I? What do you think you see?” He leaned towards her.

“A man who is a lot sweeter than he wants people to think he is.”

“That might have something to do with you tripling my sugar intake these past few weeks.”

She laughed. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“Will you still come for dinner, then?”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. “Yes. But I need you to…do something first.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re too handsome.”

His eyebrows went up.

“It’s distracting. But I think if you just kissed me now, then I wouldn’t have to wonder when you were going to or if you were going to and—”

His hand cupped the back of her head and he kissed her. Hard.

It was wonderful, but it was over too soon. She leaned towards him, wanting more but he stopped her by cupping her face in his hands. “Let me try to do the right thing here and take you to dinner before things get out of hand.”

“Okay.”

Spike got out, walked around and opened her door. Buffy accepted his help getting out of the car and once he’d closed the door, she curled her hand around his elbow. He seemed surprised, but didn’t say anything.

They found a booth towards the back and ordered a large pizza with black olives and a couple of sodas. When the waitress left, Spike leaned across the table. “Come sit on this side.”

Buffy laughed. “What?”

“There’s plenty of room over here for two people.”

“Why?”

He grinned. “Do it and you’ll find out.”

It was too hard to resist him when he was smiling. Buffy scooted off her seat and slid in beside him. “Okay. So what is it?”

“Now you can hear me even when I talk very quietly, but no one else can.” He whispered.

She giggled before whispering back. “Oh, were you planning to tell me secrets?”

“I will tell you two secrets for every one you tell me.”

“What makes you think I have secrets?”

“Pretty girls always have secrets.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I don’t think I have any.”

He slid his hand around her waist, gripped her hip and tugged her closer. “Come on, one naughty little secret and I will tell you two. It’s a good deal.”

“You tell me one first and…and then I’ll tell you one.”

He rubbed her side with thumb. “Drive a hard bargain, don’t you? Hmm…let’s see…”

“Make it a good one or it doesn’t count.”

He leaned very close to her ear. “I don’t think you were wearing anything under those pajamas last night and I gave that a lot of thought.”

She froze. “Spike,” she whispered harshly. “I thought you were going to behave.”

“I am behaving. No one else can hear me and you like it when I say naughty things to you.”

“I do not!”

He chuckled; his warm breath tickled her neck while the deep sound made her skin tingle. “Yes, you do. The blacks of your eyes get all big and round like a little Anime girl.”

“You’re…you’re—”

“Turning. You. On.”

He was right. She was ashamed to admit, even to herself, that she was insanely turned on. They were sitting in a restaurant. “Why?”

“Unh, unh. It’s your turn, cutie. Tell me a secret.”

A secret? It felt like a test. She wondered what he was looking for, what the right response was. Did she have to say something dirty? Would she look like a baby if she didn’t? “I cheated once,” she blurted.

Spike frowned. “On a guy?”

She shook her head. “No. It was a math test. Sixth grade. I’d studied actually, but when the test came I just panicked and I knew the boy next to me was really smart and…I still feel like confessing every time I see one of my old teachers in the grocery store.”

He laughed. “That was naughty.” He smirked and Buffy felt her face heating up again. Why did he have to keep using that word? Naughty. It was so…bad, dirty-bad.

“I know. I grounded myself for two weeks afterward. My mom thought I was fighting with my friends.”

He was still laughing a moment later when the waitress brought their pizza. She placed a large slice on each of their plates and asked if they wanted anything else. Buffy smiled at her even though it was clear that the waitress was staring at Spike. She couldn’t blame her. He was drool-worthy.

“We’re good,” She said cheerfully.

The waitress frowned a little as she glanced at Buffy. “Great.” She left.

Buffy laughed and said quietly, “She could have made a sign and her thoughts wouldn’t have been any clearer.”

Spike squeezed her hip. “I promise you, kitten, there isn’t a man in here that isn’t thinkin’ you could do a hell of a lot better than me.”

“I disagree.” Buffy dabbed the grease off her pizza with a white paper napkin.

“Does that make a difference?” Spike eyed her plate.

“Couldn’t hurt.”

He lifted his slice, folded it in half and took a large bite, grease and all. When he finished chewing, he grinned. “I like to live on the edge.”

Buffy giggled and lifted a clean napkin. “Yeah, well the oil likes to live on the edge of your chin.” She wiped the shiny spot and then raised her eyes to find him looking at her with an oddly serious expression. “That’s better,” she said softly before licking her lips. “You owe me a secret still.”

“That right?”

“Yup. You said if I told you one, that you’d tell me two.” She took a bite of her pizza and chewed carefully.

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Fair or not, that was the deal. You can’t change your mind now.” She grinned.

“Hmm…” He tucked his tongue behind his teeth while he pretended to give it some thought. Buffy had to look away. “Alright, then. Got one. You sure you wanna hear it?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you’re ready.”

“I’m totally ready.” Buffy sat up as straight she could and tilted her ear towards him. “See. All ears.”

He leaned down. “And they’re cute ears too.” He brushed her hair her ear. “I burned my tongue on your chocolate last night and had to pretend that I hadn’t so you couldn’t scold me.”

A flurry of giggles escaped Buffy’s lips. “Scold you?” She shook her head. “I’d have gotten you ice, you big dork.”

“I think it was worth it—maintained my dignity and all.”

“Yes, you do seem very dignified.”

“Wanna give it a kiss and make it all better?” He wiggled his tongue at her.

“You’re awful.” She gave his chest a light shove.

“Can’t help it. You’re just too bloody adorable when you’re blushing.”

“So you’re just going to tease me constantly?”

“I’d say that’s a fair bet. You wishin’ you hadn’t tricked me into asking you out?”

She frowned. “I didn’t trick you.”

“No? I suppose not. But your methods of persuasion hardly seem fair.”

“All I did was drop off cookies.”

He arched an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She took another bite of pizza.

He drove her back to her house when they finished and parked his car. Buffy tried to ignore her nerves. “Do you want to come in for a little while?”

He looked at her for a few moments before shaking his head. “I am going to walk you to your door, hopefully get a goodnight kiss, and then I’m going to leave all gentleman-like.”

“Oh.” Disappointment mingled with anticipation. She unbuckled and was reaching for her door when he pulled it open. “Thanks.” She gave him her hand as she got out. He didn’t let go.

He held her hand until they reached her porch, where he took her other hand and placed them both on his chest before cupping her face between his palms. “Promise me you’ll never come by the garage wearing cut off shorts and a bikini top.”

“What?” She wrinkled her nose. He was supposed to be kissing her.

“Humor me.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Good girl.” He covered her mouth with his own. Buffy heard herself whimper the second he made contact. She supposed that she ought to feel embarrassed about reacting so strongly, but she was too busy trying not to swoon. Her toes curled and her knees grew weak. She pushed her hands up to circle his neck with her arms, the hairs the brushed her fingertips were surprisingly soft. She couldn’t help thinking that his tongue seemed miraculously talented despite its apparent injury.

When he lifted his lips away, he dropped his forehead down to rest against hers. “You know what they say about playing with fire, right?”

“I’m not playing.”

He lightly kissed her bottom lip and swiped it with his tongue.

Buffy gasped and leaned her body against his.

“You’ve still got dangerous written all over you.” His voice was so deep it made her shiver.

She giggled. Says the guy who rides around on a motorcycle with his hair bleached white and spiked up with product, she thought. “Really? I thought I washed that off earlier.” She shrugged and grinned.

He made a deep noise with his throat, almost a growl. Buffy quickly decided it was the sexiest noise she’d ever heard. He made her thighs ache.

Spike kissed her again. Hard. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip before he pulled it between his. “I’m gonna let go in a second and you are gonna get yourself on the other side of that door. Got it?”

She pouted. “It’s early still.”

He laughed gruffly. “Yeah, well I’ve still got myself a couple of hours of cold showers, don’t I?” He kissed her again, but lightly. “Good night, kitten.”

She kissed his cheek. “Good night, Spike.”

He pulled his hands away and took a large step back. “Be good.”

Laughing, she opened her front door and stepped inside.

He was halfway to his car when she shut the door and peeked out the window. Buffy ran up the stairs.

“Buffy?” Her mom called out. “You’re home early. Did everything go okay?”

Buffy stopped in her mother’s doorway and leaned against the frame. “So okay. Way okay.”

Her mom laughed. “That good?”

She walked in and dropped down on the bed beside her mom. “Better.”

Spike heard Gunn calling out.

“Hey pretty girl, we missed you around here.”

Spike scowled as he heard Buffy giggle before responding. “Thank you.” Did she have to be nice to everyone?

“Heard you finally got the grumpy bastard to take you out. Did he treat you right? ‘Cause I can smack him around a bit if you need me to.”

Spike walked over and tossed the rag he’d used to wipe his hands at him. “Shove off.” He smiled at Buffy. “We’re really gonna start with the cookies again?”

“Cheese straws, actually.” She shrugged.

“I’ve never had a cheese straw.” He started to reach for the bag and stopped. “My hands are filthy.”

“Here.” She opened the bag, pulled out something that looked like a flakey breadstick and held it up to him. “I can hold it.”

Spike could feel the other guys watching him, but couldn’t bring himself to turn her down. He leaned forward and took a bite. “It’s good.”

“It’s a Paula Deen recipe so…mostly butter.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded.

Spike looked at her for a couple of moments. She was a touch more casual in a pale blue tank top and a short printed skirt. Spike assumed the unusually warm weather was to blame. She still looked perfect. He wished his hands were clean enough to brush the stray piece of hair on her cheek back behind her ear. Somehow she’d gotten so far under his skin that not touching her hurt. He glanced at the clock. “You busy tonight? I could call it quits in about ten minutes if you want to wait.”

She rewarded him with a blinding smile. “Yeah. I can hang.”

Spike noticed the other guys still watching her and bit back the unwelcome sensation of jealousy. “There’s nowhere clean to sit in here. Maybe wait outside. I’ll be out soon.”

He watched her leave and headed in to the office to pass on a couple of progress reports.

Spike was outside in seven minutes and he’d spent most of that time scrubbing the grime off his hands and face. He saw her talking on her phone and stood off to the side until she hung up.

“I was just telling my mom that I’d be out for a bit.”

That’s right, he thought, you’re hanging out with a teenager who lives with her mum. You are a bad, bad man. “How’s she doin’? Still feeling better?”

“Yeah, she’s good. She even stopped by the gallery she manages today.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.” He needed to kiss her. He lifted her chin and brushed his lips over hers. “So sweet. Sweet girl.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

He almost laughed; instead he raised one eyebrow and gave her a pointed look. She blushed a perfect shade of pink. “I ought to stop by my place and take a quick shower. I must stink. Got all sweaty in the shop this afternoon.”

She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “Yup. Pretty stinky.”

He chuckled. “Thanks, pet. You want to follow me. I’m on my bike today.”

Her cheeks got even pinker. “Could I just come with you?”

“Thought you just said I stank. You want to get all close and personal like?”

“I don’t mind.”

Spike had come to a realization two days before. He wasn’t going to be able to stay away from Buffy. He was going to have to date her. He was just going to have to do nice girl things with her. He’d probably still end up hurt at the end; he was certain she get bored with him soon enough, but at least he wouldn’t be responsible for snatching away her innocence. Taking her on his bike was probably not a nice girl thing to do. Still, he couldn’t say no, not with her giving him her big-eyed hopeful yet shy look. He shrugged. “Alright.”

She put the bag of cheese straws back in her car and slipped the strap of her little bag over her head so it crossed her body and rested on the opposite hip. “All set.”

He walked across the lot and climbed on his bike. He wasn’t surprised to see her hesitate even after asking to ride. “You could just follow in your car. I live close by.”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m good.” She climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

He was hard instantly. He reached down and moved her hands up a few inches. “Let’s stay in the PG zone, yeah?”

She kept his hands where he put them, but it didn’t matter since she was still all snuggled against his back. The ride home was exquisite torture. Thankfully, it was quick. He adjusted his pants as discreetly as he could as he climbed off and then turned to help her. “I’m on top.”

Her eyes got big. “What?”

“The house is split. Two floors. Two apartments. Mine’s the upstairs. The entrance is around the side.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “Of course.”

He laughed. “As to the other…I’m not picky.” He watched her blush and lower her eyes before he leaned over and whispered near her ear. “I told you, you’re just too bloody cute when you’re blushin’. Now I’m gonna need a kiss.” Spike waited for her to look up and then he kissed her. He kept it light, even managed to keep his hands off of her. Barely. “Come on. I’d best get showered before I offend your little nose.” He tapped her nose and headed towards the stairs that led up to his door.

He opened the door and stood aside to let her in first. She took two steps in and looked about. He wondered what she was thinking. It wasn’t a large apartment, but it was a lot better than the place he’d had a few years earlier, and he kept things tidy. He supposed she was used to the warm, girly touches she had at home. Spike had a good television, a game system and a big, comfortable black leather couch. He’d considered that good and done. He hadn’t wasted time or money with pillows or plants or anything of that nature. “I guess it’s pretty obviously a bloke’s place, huh?”

“It’s nice.”

He laughed and nodded towards the couch. “Make yourself at home. The remote’s over there somewhere. I won’t be long.”

Spike headed straight into his small bathroom, stripped and got into a hot shower. There, as he scrubbed with a chalky white bar of soap and washed his hair with a salon brand shampoo he’d have never admitted to buying, he considered his decision to bring Buffy by his place. Of course they were better off in public, that was a given. But it was odd that he’d even thought to bring her there in the first place. He almost never brought girls to his place.

Then again, Spike didn’t date nice girls. He’d be stretching things to say he dated girls at all. He hooked up with girls. Sometimes he hooked up with the same one a few times, but he never offered monogamy and they didn’t seem to be seeking it.

When he was confident that he’d scoured the sweat and grease from his skin, he shut off the water, toweled off and pulled on a pair of basically clean jeans he’d left hanging from a hook on the bathroom door. He ran his electric razor over his chin and cheeks even though he wasn’t particularly stubbly yet and used a healthy glob of mousse to shape his hair.

She was sitting with her legs pulled up on the couch playing with her phone when he came out.

“There’s got to be something other than beer in the fridge if you’re thirsty, love. Should have offered before, but you can help yourself.”

She turned and gasped softly. Her gaze slid down his chest and she swallowed before abruptly turning away.

Spike shook his head. “You have seen a man without a shirt before, yeah? You must go to the beach or something. We live in California.”

She made a little noise that he assumed meant yes.

Spike sighed. “Right. Fetching a shirt as we speak.” He headed into his bedroom and pulled a clean dark blue tee shirt from his drawer. He was about to pull it on when he heard her walk up behind him. He turned.

She closed the distance between them with three quick steps and kissed him.

He dropped his shirt and let his hands slid down her arms. Her hands were fisted at her sides. He covered them with his own and squeezed. “Well, hello there, cutie.” He lifted her hands up and brushed his mouth over her knuckles. “Were you having trouble finding the soda?” He gently pried open her fingers so he was holding her hands.

“Spike.” She looked at his bed.

He took a step back and sat down on its edge, still grasping her hands. “I guess it’s time for us to have a little chat. So, am I right in thinking that you’ve never—that you’re a…”

She saved him from finishing the sentence by nodding. “Yes,” she said quietly before licking her lips.

He’d known, but hearing it still flooded him with a myriad of contradictory feelings. A part of him, a small part, was decidedly too pleased to have it confirmed. “So maybe you should stay out of my bedroom, yeah?”

“You don’t want me?” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He placed her hands on his knees and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “You know I do. Can’t keep my hands off you, no matter how hard I try.”

She stepped closer, fitting her feet between his. “Stop trying.”

He felt her trembling; her knees shook and bumped against his legs. “Why?” That was the real question, why had this beautiful, sweet girl set her sights on him. It didn’t make any sense.

She gave a breathless little laugh. “If I have to explain that part to you, we are in trouble.”

He exhaled a snort of laughter. “You know what I mean, love. Why now? Why me?”

She swallowed visibly and took a deep breath. “I want you.”

Oh it was a heady feeling, being wanted by someone like her. She’d have been out of his league even back when he was a nice boy. “We’ve only been out once,” he reminded her gently.

She lifted one hand and shakily placed it on the center of his chest. He wondered if she could feel his heartbeat thumping far too quickly despite his calm appearance. It would give him away. “I wanted you before that,” she said.

“You’re gorgeous, Buffy, and clever and your cookies are better even than the ones Gunn’s mum makes, which is…” He shrugged. “You can do a hell of a lot better than me.”

“It makes me sad when you say stuff like that. You…you take my breath away. It’s like you’re a code and I think I could learn it and see you, really see you. And it’s all I want.”

He was shaking then too. “And what if you don’t like what you see when you get inside?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think it works that way. I think maybe being the one that gets inside is all that really matters.”

He cupped her face between his hands. “I don’t know if I believe that.”

She leaned towards him. “That’s okay. Maybe I believe enough for both of us.” Her lips brushed against his ever so gently before she kissed him.

He returned the kiss, sliding his tongue over her soft lips to explore her mouth for a few wonderful moments before pulling back. “What am I going to do with you?”

She frowned.

‘Unh…that pout.” He leaned in and nibbled on her bottom lip. He grasped her waist, lifted her and set her a few inches back before standing up. He tugged his shirt on as he walked out of his bedroom and into the tiny kitchen area.

“Spike?” She sounded confused and more than a little annoyed. He figured that was good. It was better than hurt at least.

He pulled open the fridge, took out a beer and dug around the back until he found a can of soda. “Thirsty?” He handed her the can and then used the bottle opener stuck to his fridge with a magnet to open his beer. Spike took two big gulps before speaking again. “I think we should do something. Maybe go see a movie or—“He almost suggested the beach and laughed. He wouldn’t survive seeing the girl in a bathing suit all wet and perfect.

“I want to stay here.” She reached for the bottom of her tank top and started pulling it up.

He grabbed her hand. “Take off whatever you want, kitten. My clothes will be staying on.”

Her mouth made a cute ‘o’ of surprise before she smoothed her shirt back down and grabbed the soda off the counter. She popped it open and dropped onto his couch with a frustrated sigh. Fuck, but she was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He took another big gulp and followed her into the living room. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. “How about we find something on pay per view and in a little bit we order in, maybe Chinese?”

She nodded but continued to pout.

He sighed. He was doomed.

Buffy winced and looked away for the fifteenth time. She hated horror movies, all the blood and the screaming. Why anyone would want to traumatize themselves was a complete mystery. She couldn’t stop her hands from popping up to cover her ears as she scrunched her eyes shut.

Blinded and deafened, she didn’t notice Spike pausing the movie or moving down the couch. He placed his hand on her shoulder and she squeaked.

“Hey, hey…just me.”

Her cheeks were on fire. So much for playing things cool. “I know.”

He smiled a little and her heart leapt. “I’m getting the impression you don’t like horror flicks, kitten.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before nodding. “Not so much.”

Spike tucked her hair behind her ear. “Why didn’t you say so? We could have rented something else.”

“I thought you wanted to watch this and I didn’t want you to think I was…” she trailed off too embarrassed to admit that she’d just wanted him to like her.

He sighed heavily. “You want me to think you’re a grown-up—you’re gonna have to act like one. And that means telling me when you’re not comfortable with something.”

Humiliation brought tears to her eyes. She looked away and blinked quickly to hold them back.

He slid his knuckles down her throat. “How about we order some food and maybe we can find something else to watch, yeah?”

She nodded without looking back. “Okay.”

He caressed the back of her neck with his fingertips. “In the mood for anything particular?”

She couldn’t talk with the pads of fingers making slow circles against her skin. When he moved into her hair, she let her head fall back and moaned softly. She opened her eyes in surprise at the sound and found him watching her with dark eyes. Her embarrassment quickly faded. He wanted her too. He was all caught up with trying to do the honorable thing, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling exactly what she was. Slowly, she licked her lips.

He groaned. “Gonna be the death of me.” And then he kissed her so deeply that she was certain he was pulling everything that she was into himself.

She cupped his face and surrendered. She’d give him anything, the thought was at once terrifying and freeing.

When he finally pulled away, she whimpered. “Spike. Please, don’t—”

Spike pressed two fingers against her lips. “I know, love. Come here.” He sat back on the couch and tapped his thigh.

“Yes.” She quickly sat down on his lap with her side against his chest, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He teased her lips and tongue with his own while rubbing loose circles with his palm on her back. “I could take care of you,” he said softly.

Buffy nearly groaned in frustration. “I’m not a child. I don’t need a babysitter.”

He placed his hand on her thigh, halfway between her knee and her hip. “Not what I meant.”

She gasped. “I…”

Spike rubbed his nose against her earlobe before kissing her neck. “Do you trust me?”

Buffy nodded languidly. His touch clouded her mind and enhanced her senses.

His fingertips brushed the inside of her thigh as he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “You’re so pretty, Buffy, and sweet. The sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

His touch inched up her leg. Her heart raced almost painfully and she wondered if this was what made all those women in old-time movies swoon. She’d be too embarrassed to live if she passed out, but his hand was getting so close. She dug her fingers into his denim-covered thigh.

“Open your knees for me, kitten.”

She pressed her face into the crook of his neck with her eyes closed tightly and spread her legs.

He exhaled loudly when his fingers brushed across the front of her panties.

She heard a high-pitched whimper and belatedly realized she’d made the sound herself.

“So hot.” He stroked her through the thin cotton. “You’re so wet, baby.”

She winced. “Don’t say that,” she whispered.

He used his other hand to pull her chin up so he could see her face. “Why not?” He kissed her gently. “It’s a bloody good thing.”

Buffy tried to pull away, but he held her chin firmly.

“It means you want me.” He continued his rhythmic stroking. “Do you have any idea what it does to me, how good it feels, finding you so hot and wet for me?”

“It’s a little embarrassing.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s sexy as hell.”

She fought the urge to hide.

“You’re as sexy as hell.” He slipped a single finger under the lacy edge of her panties.

“Oh, god,” she whispered. A thousand crazy thoughts floated through her consciousness as she tried to process the moment. She’d expected it to feel good, but the reality was more than she’d been able to imagine.

He kept his touch light. “You can tell me that you like it, love. Or if you don’t.”

“I do.” She licked her lips but kept her gaze focused on the coffee table.

“So shy right now, but someday soon you’re gonna lie down on my bed with your pretty little knees opened as wide as you can and you’re gonna order me to lick you like you’re the frostin’ on a cupcake.”

She shuddered. “That…doesn’t sound like me.”

“Only ‘cause you don’t know what a sexy, little kitten you are. I’m gonna be in trouble when you do.”

Buffy pressed her face against his chest. “Why?” She could barely speak.

“You’re gonna know that you could have anyone. A thousand men would beg to be wrapped around your finger.”

His fingertip was circling her clitoris. Pleasure spread out on jagged, splintered paths through her body. Was it always like this? She’d thought it would feel good. This was almost pain, but she was certain she’d die if he stopped. “I only want you.” How could he still not understand that?

“You have me.”

Her heart stopped. She forced her eyes open and looked up at him in surprise.

He met her gaze with narrowed eyes. “You have me. Alright?”

Buffy nodded.

His lips curved. “Now…” He slipped another finger inside her wet panties. “I want you to come and I want to watch.” He kissed her neck and traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. “You like my touching you, don’t you? You can say it. You can always tell me.”

“I do. Oh, Spike…I…it’s so good.”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you? All sugar and sunshine. I shouldn’t have my hands on you, but how could I resist?”

“Spike, please.” She squirmed, trying to press herself against his hand.

“You need a little more, baby?”

She nodded and pressed her face into the crook of his neck.

“Unh, unh. Look at me. Right here.”

She dragged her head up and met his eyes.

“I told you, kitten. I want to watch.” His fingers began moving more quickly, expertly teasing her until she wanted to cry.

She fought the urge to look away or close her eyes, unsure of why he was so adamant that she not and of why she so desperately wanted to. She whimpered.

“Should I talk to you? You wanna hear how bad I want inside you right now?”

She was panting. Buffy clutched at fistfuls of his t-shirt, her head swaying.

“Can you feel how hard I am? That’s you. You’re so fucking hot. My girl. My kitten. Gets me hard every time you walk in the room.”

Her mouth opened wide as she came but she didn’t make a sound. Spike kept her gaze until the final wave of pleasure flowed through her. Finally, bonelessly, she collapsed against him.

He rubbed her back comfortingly for a few moments before talking. “You feelin’ better, love?”

Buffy used her hands to push herself up and looked at him incredulously. “That was…” She shrugged and laughed hoarsely. “I don’t even know the words for what that was.”

He grinned. “Those boys you date really haven’t been doin’ right by you, have they?”

She groaned and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “In their defense, it’s not like I ever let any of them try that.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Nobody’s even touched you? Hell, kitten.”

“You think I’m a freak, huh?”

He chuckled. “I’m a bit too busy fighting the urge to pound my chest and claim that I discovered fire to think any such thing.”

She frowned. “What?”

Spike cupped her face with his hands. “I don’t think you’re a freak. I think you’re gorgeous and special and touching you is like winnin’ the bloody lottery when I wasn’t even playing.”

She felt warmed down to her toes. “Can I touch you?”

He sighed. “It’d be better if we just go ahead and order some dinner. Maybe find a new movie.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair.” She could feel his erection pressing against her hip. It demanded her attention even while his words tried to distract her.

He kissed her lightly. “Let’s not worry about being fair. I’m fine. Better than, even.”

Buffy shook her head and placed her hand, fingers spread wide, on the center of his chest. “Not good enough.” She slid her hand slowly down his well-muscled chest and abs and watched as he clenched his jaw in response. She wished he’d take his shirt off again. He was beautiful without his shirt. Very carefully, she laid her hand down on the bulging front of his jeans.

He hissed.

She pulled her hand back. “I’m hurting you?”

He groaned and shook his head. “Not exactly.” He frowned at her for a moment. “You certain you want to do this?”

She didn’t even ask what he meant. She nodded.

He exhaled loudly before letting his head drop back so he was looking up at the ceiling as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

Buffy watched him free his cock and then grasp the base with one hand. She reached towards it but stopped on his hip. “Spike?”

He took her hand, lifted it to his mouth and gave her palm several wet licks before guiding her to wrap her fingers around his shaft. He pulled her hand up until she felt the velvety softness of his tip on her fingers and then pressed her hand back down his length. “Just like that.”

Still perched on his knees and leaning against his chest, she repeated the caress several times. She just had to do it right. He moaned deeply and she looked up to find his eyes were closed tightly and his head was resting on the back of the couch. “Why do you get to close your eyes?”

He chuckled hoarsely but didn’t reply.

Grinning, she pulled her hand away and climbed off his lap to kneel on the cushion beside him.

His eyes opened instantly. “Where you going?”

“Nowhere, silly.” She grasped the base of his cock, bent over and tentatively wrapped her lips around the tip. His hips jumped up and he made a noise that sounded like growling. She tried swiping her tongue over him and tasted the drops of liquid there. Salty. Rich. Definitely not bad. She swirled her tongue around him again.

“Fuck!” His hand came down on the back of her head and tangled with her hair for a moment. “Okay. Okay, kitten.” His grip loosed and he rubbed her head and back over and over again like he really was petting a cat. “Up and down, baby. Please. Up and down.”

She was only able to slide her mouth half way down his length before she felt like she’d choke if she went further, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“So good. You’re so good.” He pet her head and back again and again before sliding his hand over her butt and up her skirt. He cupped one cheek of her ass. “So hot. Wanna bend you over—fill you up.”

She gasped at image he painted.

“Don’t stop, kitten. I’m so close.”

She tried moving her head faster and was rewarded by hearing him growl again. It was the best sound ever.

“That’s it. That’s—fuck!”

She’d known it would happen, but she was still startled by the mouthful of his spendings. She swallowed some but there was still a mess. Buffy sat back on her heels and looked over at him anxiously.

He gave her butt another squeeze and then pulled his hand out from under her skirt. “Should I have warned you, love? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but…”

He pulled his t-shirt over his head and frowned at her while he balled it up. “But what?”

“Did I do it wrong or…bad?” She glanced at the sticky liquid he was using his shirt to wipe from his stomach.

Spike laughed. “No. You did brilliant.” He caught her chin between two fingers and pulled her mouth close for a quick kiss. “I’m just messy. Most blokes are.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Okay.”

“Don’t look like that. Gonna give me a complex.”

Buffy giggled.

He shook his head but smiled before saying. “Now seriously, let’s order some nosh I’m starving.”

“You must be William.”

Spike nodded. “Yes, maam.” He tried to smile at the attractive woman that had to be Buffy’s mother, but felt ridiculous. He looked down. “Is Buffy here?”

The woman laughed. “Of course she is. She’s just upstairs getting ready for your date. Why don’t you come in and chat with me for a minute while you wait?”

Why didn’t he? Maybe because he didn’t do parents. Or maybe because he didn’t do small talk. He looked back at his car as though it would help him out and give him an excuse to stay outside. “I—”

“Hi, Spike!” Buffy popped up beside her mother. “Sorry, I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

He shrugged, still holding his gaze on his own feet. “No problem. You ready?”

“Yup.” She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “See you later. It might be late, so no worrying.”

Spike’s face felt hot and he wondered if he was actually blushing because the girl had told her mother not to wait up. He was berating himself for being such a loser when he felt her hand circle his elbow. He glanced over at her; she was smiling broadly and looking tastier than any woman had the right to look in a fire engine red sundress and he couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Looks like you made the right choice,” he muttered.

If possible, her smile grew. “You like?” She reached down and flipped the side of her skirt around.

“You look…right pretty, love.”

“You kids have fun.”

Spike turned back, surprised to find the older woman still standing in the doorway. Now he was certain he was blushing. She had to think he was a ponce getting all tongue-tied over a dress. He couldn’t make eye-contact, but he tipped his head in her direction before leading Buffy to the car. Stiffly, he opened the side door for her and waited until she got it. Her mother was probably still watching. Spike knew that the women he normally spent time with must have mothers, but they had the common courtesy to keep them out of his way. He closed Buffy’s door, walked around the car and climbed into his own chair. He started the ignition and was two blocks away from her house before he spoke. “So, love, what are feeling up for today? We could catch a movie, maybe.”

“We could watch a movie at your place.” She placed one small hand with perfectly painted red fingernails on his thigh. His pants instantly felt too tight.

He chuckled. “What kind of guy am I if I never take you out?”

“We’ve been out.”

He glanced over at her quickly before refocusing in the road. Her hair was up in some sort of complicated arrangement of dozens of twisted sections held in place by tiny hairpins. “You did your hair. We ought to go out so you can show it off.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course.”

She giggled. “That sounded like a no.”

He grinned. “I’ll like taking it down just as soon as I get you through my front door.” Her felt her hand twitch against his leg. She liked hearing his plans. His good little girl had herself a kink for some naughty talk. “Owe you a nice long good morning kiss too, don’t I?”

“You totally do.” She was almost breathless. He hadn’t laid a finger on her and she was panting. He hadn’t thought a woman could be that responsive.

He took the final turn to his place, parked in his usual spot and walked around to open her door. She was already out and waiting to wrap her arms around his neck. Kissing her hard and deep, he settled his hands on her waist and pushed her back against his car. She was still minty from brushing her teeth and he pushed his tongue further into her mouth wanting to get a taste of her under the tart freshness. She moaned and rubbed her ankle up and down his calf.

He pulled away. “Inside before we scandalize the neighbors.”

She laughed. “I’ve never scandalized anyone before.”

“Yeah, well lettin’ me take your panties off in a parking lot at half-past ten would probably do it.”

Her face turned pink. “I wouldn’t have…”

Spike smirked. “Wanna bet?”

She looked away and shook her head.

He kissed one of her red cheeks. “Don’t pout, kitten. You know I can’t resist you either.” He took her hand and pulled her towards the stairs.

When they got inside and he’d closed the door behind her, he lifted her up to sit on the kitchen counter and stood between her knees.

“I love when you’re kissing me.” She said quietly. “It’s my favorite thing.”

Spike slid her skirt half-way up her thighs. “You certain it’s your favorite thing?”

She shivered and watched his hands.

“What color?”

She frowned.

“I’m gonna know in a minute anyway. Tell me what color your panties are today?”

She licked her lips. “Red.”

“To match?”

She nodded.

“Fuck, but you’re adorable.” He pulled her head down so he could kiss her again. “Can I peek?”

She was shaking a little, but the blacks of her eyes were as big as moons. “You said you were going to.”

“Are you gonna let me do anything I say I’m gonna do?” He let his head drop to the side a little as he studied her face.

“Probably.”

He bit back a groan. “Why?”

“I—I just want to please you.”

His cock jumped eagerly. “That’s mutual, you know?”

“Okay.”

“You want to let me look at you?”

“If you want to.”

If he wanted to. He almost laughed. She truly had no idea. “Lean back a bit. Yeah, just like that.” He guided her hands behind her a little ways, pushed the skirt of her dress up as far as he could and stepped back. “Oh, that’s nice.” He laid his hands on her knees and very gently pressed them open even more. They weren’t just red; her panties were red, ruffled satin. He squeezed her kneecaps before letting his hands fall to his sides.

She was covered really. All he could see was the creamy skin on her thighs and tiny bit of shiny fabric. It was still the most erotic sight he could ever remember.

“Spike?”

“You’re so hot, little girl. I think I’ll burn up if I touch you just now.” He let his gaze slid over her again and again.

“But I like when you’re touching me.”

Fuck! He was going lose it right there. He made fists with his hands and exhaled slowly. “Show me where you want me to touch you.”

She blinked.

“Take one hand and show me where you wish I was.”

Tremulously, she lifted her right hand and placed it just above her breasts.

Spike nodded. “Just right there?”

Biting her lip, she slid her hand down to cup her breast.

“Good. So good.” He wished she would caress herself. Just the thought of her squeezing and pinching her own nipples made him moan. He couldn’t risk scaring her off though. He had to take things slow. “Such a pretty picture.” He reached down and rubbed himself through his jeans, watching her eyes widen with shock and interest. “You want me to touch you anywhere else, kitten?”

She just nodded. Her eyes flashed up to look at his face for only a second before focusing on his hand again.

Spike rubbed himself roughly, loving the hungry look on her face. “Show me.”

With excruciating slowness, she brought her hand to the edge of those red satin panties and then she shook him to the core by slipping her fingers inside.

“Fuck!” He actually stumbled backwards and banged into the door. His hands gripped the doorframe to steady himself. In that second he made promises to a deity he wasn’t all that certain he even believed in. He’d do anything if she would just continue.

But uncertainty was filling her eyes.

He shook his head. “Don’t stop, love. Please, don’t stop.”

Her hand shifted, sending her fingers in a little deeper. She whimpered; her mouth opened to form the sweetest, sexiest ‘O’.

He almost fell to his knees. “Are you wet for me, sweetness?”

Her eyelids fluttered. “Yes.”

He pushed himself off the door and stalked back to her. “Tell me.” He placed his hands on the countertop on either side of her hips. “Say it.”

She was chewing her bottom lip again. “Spike.”

“Come on, love.”

She lowered her forehead to rest on his and closed her eyes tightly. “I’m wet for you. Only for you.”

“Good girl.” He pulled her to his mouth and kissed her until he was dizzy. “I’m gonna taste you, kitten. Gonna eat you right up.” He felt her stiffen at his words and wasn’t surprised. He persisted. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. I promise, love. I just wanna make you feel good.”

“I don’t know.”

He stroked her inner thighs with his fingertips. “I do. Trust me.” When she still looked anxious, he stopped. “Look at me. I’d never do something you don’t want. Give it a shot. You don’t like it. I stop.” He grinned. “But, baby, you’re gonna like it.”

Her lips twitched as she turned to look away. “Okay.”

“Lie back.” He guided her shoulders down and then pushed her skirt back up. “This is now my favorite dress.”

“It is?”

“MmmHmm.” Spike traced the edge of her panties. “’Cause it matches these and these are brilliant.” He hooked a finger under the fabric on each of her hips and pulled them down slowly. When he’d brought them down to her thighs he looked back up to find that she’d covered her face with her hands. “You should know that I have no intention of giving these back.” He dragged them down her legs and pulled her feet free.

She rose up on her elbows and frowned. “What are you going to do with them?”

Spike shoved her panties in his back pocket. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“They are mine.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not since I stole them fair and square.”

“Spike.” She started to sit up and push her skirt down.

“Unh, unh.” He put his hand on her stomach. “Not nearly down with you yet.”

“I feel too weird,” she whispered.

He rubbed the backs of her knees. “Love, you said you wanted to please me. Did you mean it?” Spike wasn’t altogether sure that he should be pushing her to do anything, but figured if they were going down this road he was going to be damned certain she got off hard enough and often enough to lose her voice.

“Yes.”

“This is what I want.” He slid his hands up the outsides of her thighs and pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. “Put your legs over my shoulders.”

“Really?”

He chuckled and guided them into place. “Now,” he said as he brushed his lips against her inner thigh, “I can get a good look at your sweet little quim.”

“Spike!” She squirmed.

“It’s pretty, pet. You’re pretty.” He stroked her with his finger for a moment. “I knew you would be. Knew you’d be all soft and pink. Knew it the night we met.” He hadn’t thought he’d ever get a chance to confirm his suspicions though. Spike leaned forward and licked the slit between the folds of her sex. She gasped loudly.

Spike had been prepared to stay there awhile. He was determined to blow her mind and ready to try any and every trick he’d ever even heard of. But she was writhing beneath him after only a few tentative swipes of his tongue.

“Oh god, that’s…oh, oh, wow, oh…”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” He used the tip of his tongue to circle her clit and then sucked on it gently.

She whimpered loudly and clutched at his hair.

“You want more? Tell me you want some more.”

Her heels were pressed into his back. “More. Please, Spike.”

He licked the swollen bundle of nerves hard and then latched on to suck until she came.

She yelled his name.

Buffy rested her head on the counter and tried to catch her breath. When she turned, her cheek pressed against the laminate countertop. Because she was in his kitchen. Oxygen was returning to her brain and reminding her that he had just done what he’d done while she was laying on his kitchen counter and they were both still nearly dressed. It was by far the most shocking thing she’d ever done. Hell, it was the most shocking thing she’d ever heard of someone she knew doing.

Spike had pulled her legs down from his shoulders and was watching her with a smirk. Looking at him made her stomach clench despite the satisfaction he’d just given her. She wondered if that was normal. She didn’t think it could be.

He fixed her skirt and scooped her off the counter. “How you doin’, kitten?”

“I—I—”

He laughed. “Brilliant.” He sat down on the couch and cuddled her on his lap.

“Are you really going to keep my underwear?”

He grinned. “Definitely. I told you I was bad, baby. You kept comin’ ‘round anyway.” He cupped her face. “Look at you. So bloody cute.”

Buffy wound her arms around his neck. “You said you didn’t do cute.”

“I didn’t.”

She smiled.

“Last chance. Do you wanna go do something today? A movie? Bowling?”

“Without my underwear?”

He tucked his tongue behind his front teeth and nodded.

Her face felt hot as she shook her head.

“I might be convinced to loan them back to you…briefly.”

“I don’t really want to go anywhere anyway.”

“That works out nicely then.” He reached up and started pulling the hairpins from her hair.

“It does?”

“Why would I want to go anywhere else when I have a sexy girl with no panties right here? No, I can think of lots of ways to keep busy without leaving the apartment.”

He made her dizzy. Just listening to him to talk made her thighs ache and her stomach tumble. It was overwhelming and scary, if she was being honest with herself, but all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and declare that he was the most fascinating and important person that had ever lived. Everything he did was different and interesting. He moved more gracefully than normal people and used hipper words. He made her feel like she could be special and cool too.

He placed the pile of hairpins he’d taken from her on the coffee table. “There.”

“You like my hair better down?”

“I do.”

“I can wear it down more.”

He shook his head. “Love, you don’t need to change for me. You’re just right, just as you are.”

She couldn’t hold back a little sigh of happiness. “Really?” If he said it, it had to be true.

“I like taking it down myself.” He ran his fingers through her hair. His eyes narrowed and she thought he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stared at her quietly for a while.

“Spike?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you always do that kind of stuff in your kitchen?”

He laughed. “Well, it’s not like I do much cooking in it, but no. I usually don’t bring women back here.” He kissed her temple.

“Oh.”

“Go on, love.” He smiled. “I know that’s not all you’re thinking about.”

She wanted to ask about those other women. She wanted to know why he’d picked them and if he’d ever loved any of them. She wanted to know if they knew how to do things, sexual things, which she didn’t have a clue about. She kissed him lightly. “I know I don’t—I can learn. I can learn how to do the stuff you like.”

“Already told you: I like you the way you are.”

“But—”

“Are we talkin’ about sex here?”

“You’re probably used to girls who know lots of stuff and are already really good at it, but if you teach me then I could—”

He kissed her hard, possessively. “We have to learn about each other. That’s just how this works.”

She nodded.

“Hey.” He cupped her face with both of his hands. “I can’t even think about other girls when I with you. I’m all wrapped around this little finger.” He grabbed one of hands and folded all but her index finger down. He kissed it.

“So, would you say I’m your…girlfriend?”

He laughed. “Yes, kitten, I’d say you’re my girl. If I had a varsity jacket, I’d let you wear it.”

“I don’t need a jacket. I just want to be your…only girl.” She winced and glanced at his face not knowing what to expect.

“Done.” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “That goes two ways.” His voice was rough.

“I only ever want you.”

He kissed her neck and bit her earlobe. “Well then, maybe you can give me a hand with a problem I seem to be having.”

“What’s wrong?”

Spike placed her hand on the zipper of his jeans. “You’ve got me so hard I can’t think straight.”

Buffy rubbed him lightly through his jeans. “Do you want to—”

He groaned and laughed hoarsely. “Damn you have sexy hands. Look at your hand on me with your nails painted all red and slick.”

She looked at her hand, the polish was a bit darker than she normally chose, but it was still just her hand.

“I want to see that hand wrapped around my cock.”

She jumped a little at the word cock and glanced at him in surprise. “O—okay.”

He lifted his hips up a little, jostling her on his knees, and unbuttoned his jeans. He moaned as he drew the zipper down freeing his erection to spring out eagerly.

Buffy licked her lips.

He grinned and leaned in to whisper deeply near her cheek. “Thank you, kitten.”

“What for? I haven’t done anything yet.” She laughed. Sometimes, he was very odd.

“You just looked at my cock like it was the cherry on top of a hot fudge sundae. Makes a man feel like a bloody king when you look at him like that.” He reached for her hand, placed it at the base of his penis and settled back to watch with his head tilted to the side and an amused smirk on his lips.

Sliding her hand up and down his length, she watched his head fall back. His throat was stretched taunt and she could see his moans vibrating under his pale skin. She lifted her other hand to feel. Her fingertips caressed the bump of his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone before being thwarted by the collar of his t-shirt.

Carefully continuing her hand’s movement up and down his shaft, she shifted so that she was sitting astride his lap with one knee on the cushion on either side of his thighs. “Spike?”

“Hmm?”

She didn’t know why she felt so shy asking, but she did. “Will you take off your shirt?”

He pulled it over his head and tossed it aside without a word.

Buffy exhaled slowly and placed her hand in the valley between his pecs to stroke his abdomen. His muscles leapt in response. She smiled. “This might be my new favorite thing.”

Without lifting his head, without even opening his eyes, he reached up and cupped her face to pull her down for a kiss.

Buffy had to let go of his cock and use both hands on his shoulders to balance herself. “Spike,” she squeaked his name just as his lips closed over hers.

His tongue swiped hers and their teeth clicked lightly. He was devouring her. All she could do was hold on. He reached down and pulled her closer, so she could feel his hardness between their stomachs. He cupped her butt through her skirt and groaned loudly. “I should have given you your panties back.”

She frowned. “We could—I want to.”

“Not like this.” He gripped her waist tightly, lifted her off of him somewhat awkwardly and placed her on the couch beside him.

She frowned when he reached down and grasped himself. “I can…” She trailed off as the sight of his hand pulling his cock so hard and fast overwhelmed her. “Oh my god.” His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched tightly and his cheeks hollowed. He came in seconds, groaning loudly.

He panted for a moment before turning his head towards her. “I swear I’m better than this, love. You undo me.” He glanced around the room and she realized he was looking for his shirt.

She leaned away to pick it up and handed it to him. “We could have…”

Spike grabbed her hand, pulled it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “You deserve better.”

She yanked her hand back. “We’ve been through this. I want you.”

He chuckled. “I meant you deserve a better first time. Not a couple of moments half-prepared and half-dressed on my couch.”

Her cheeks burned. “Oh.”

He wiped at his stomach with the shirt for a moment and then stood up. “Give me a minute to wash up, yeah?” He headed to bathroom.

Buffy stood up and fixed her dress while she listed to the sound of water running in the other room. She patted her hair, thinking it must be a mess, and tried to finger comb it into submission.

When he came back out she was sitting demurely on the couch. She resisted the urge to cheer when he sat down without finding a new shirt. His shoulders did lovely things to her insides. She wondered what he would say if she told him he was beautiful.

“You’ve gotten awfully quiet,” he said.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. But if you wanted to tell me what you’re thinkin’ about, I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

She laughed. “It wasn’t deep or anything like that.”

“No?”

She shook her head.

“Fair enough. Maybe I should tell what I’m thinking about then.”

“Okay.”

“Come here.” He curled his finger in invitation and, when she’d moved close enough, pulled her over to settle on his lap. “I like having you right here.” He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her shoulder.

“I like being right here.”

“This is all a bit new for me, love.”

“But—”

“Give me a chance here. I’ve been with girls, yeah, but this is…different. You’re different. I don’t want to screw things up.”

“You won’t.”

“I’ve never been someone’s first before and I’m glad that you’re so…eager, but I’m—well, fuck, I’m bloody well terrified.”

Gasping, Buffy turned so she could see his face. “Really?” He was just too sexy and confident for her to imagine that anything made him nervous even.

He smiled sort lopsidedly. “You look at me like I’m more than I am.”

“You’re—”

“Just a man.”

“Not to me.”

“I know. But if I let you down here—if it’s not what you expect—”

Buffy laughed softly. “Spike, it’s already been way better than I ever expected.”

His fingers threaded into the hairs at the nape of her neck and he pulled her mouth to his. He kissed her tenderly for a moment before settling her forehead against his.

She giggled. “I’ve never actually had a guy say we should wait until he was ready.”

He groaned. “You make me sound like a ponce.”

“I have no idea what that is,” she whispered.

“It’s the kind of loser that turns down a chance to get a ride from a pretty bird.”

She laughed again. “I don’t think that.”

“I do.” He grinned. “But I think you’re worth it.”

Joyce opened the door before Spike even raised his fist to knock. “So my daughter tells me that you are rather certain I won’t approve of you. Anything in particular I should know?”

“I...she umm--”

Joyce laughed gently. “Relax and come on in. I just couldn’t help teasing you, William. Or do you prefer Spike?”

“Whichever is fine.” Oh yeah. He should absolutely not have come to this thing. He’d tried to tell Buffy that family barbeques were not his place but then she’d looked sad. She hadn’t even pouted, just sort of sighed solemnly and he’d started promising to attend. He was crazy about her. If it was within his power to make her happy, he’d do it. Hell, he’d do things outside his power too.

Spike lifted up the bouquet of flowers he held in his left hand. “Thank you for inviting me to your home.” Yup. He’d practiced that in the mirror like a complete loser.

Her eyes widened and the family resemblance was strong. “They’re lovely. And my favorite too.”

“I noticed that painting in your kitchen. These are the same, right?”

“Yes! They are. Sunflowers. That’s very thoughtful, William.” She studied him for a moment before nodding. “Come with me while I put these in some water. I think I have just the right vase in the upstairs hall closet and we’ll grab one for those dahlias too.”

Spike’s cheeks warmed, but he grinned. “Will she like them?” Maybe he should have gotten roses. Chicks liked roses, didn’t they? But these had seemed so perky and cheerful. They had to be the flower equivalent of his girl.

Joyce laughed. “From you? She’ll love them.”

He followed her up the stairs and around the corner.

She opened a closet door and gestured to the top shelf. “The clay one and the purple glass I think. You can reach, right?”

Spike handed her the other bouquet and carefully pulled out the requested vases. He really only had a couple inches on Joyce, but it was kind of her to pretend that he was taller.

Joyce grinned. “Thoughtful and handy. Bring them downstairs.”

Spike followed dutifully, but he couldn’t help looking around. Was he ever going to get to see his girl? Also was Joyce aware that paint and furnishing came in colors other than beige and sage? It was like walking through a catalog for wholesome living. It made his skin itch.

Joyce led him back to the kitchen and gestured for him to place the vases on the counter. “I’ll admit that I’ve had my concerns about you.”

His stomach dropped. Spike stared at his boots. Was this it? Was this the ‘I’m sure you mean well but you’re clearly not good enough for my daughter’ speech?

“But that was back when it seemed like you didn’t return Buffy’s affection.”

He looked up, surprised.

“Now I don’t get the feeling that’s something I need to worry about, is it?” She pulled open a drawer and took out a pair of scissors.

“No, Ma’am.”

“Call me Joyce. Please.” She unwrapped the sunflowers and began trimming the stems. “She told me you were worried about her age, her being too young for you, and I’m glad. I don’t think it’s a problem, but I like knowing that my daughter is seeing a young man who thinks about that sort of thing, who worries about doing the right thing.”

Joyce arranged the sunflowers in the vase and placed it under the faucet. “She’s told you about her father?”

“Only that he...he passed away some time ago.”

“Three and half years ago.”

Spike winced. He’d assumed it was longer. Buffy really barely mentioned it. “I’m sorry.”

Joyce blinked a few times, but held on to her smile. “Thank you.” She reached over and patted his hand. “You’ve been quite patient and I’m going to get to the point now. When Hank got sick, life around here...it stopped being about anything other than family for a bit. We knew he only had a few months, so we made the most of them. We made memories. Which was right, I think. But after he passed away I should have made sure Buffy get back to being a teenager instead of letting her take care of me. She should have been dating--having fun, not baking cookies and watching old musicals with her weepy mother.”

“I’m sure she wanted to spend time with you, Ma’--Joyce.”

“I know. I guess all I’m trying to say is that she’s happier now than she has been in a long time and I know that’s because of you. As long you treat my daughter with respect, I don’t care about the ugly boots, what nickname you use, or how white you bleach your hair. Fair enough?”

Spike head was spinning. She’d only just started dating. No wonder she’d seemed so young. He couldn’t even think about processing the ramifications of losing your father at fifteen years of age. He nodded. “Thank you. That’s...thanks.”

“And I do mean respect, not kid gloves. I know my baby is an adult now. I don’t always like it, but I’m aware. Just keep making her happy and let her do the same for you. We’re all going to get along just fine. Now, Buffy’s out back--probably fussing with the tablecloths again. Why don’t you head out and give her those lovely flowers? Everyone else should be coming in about a half hour.”

He furrowed his brow. Had he come early? “Am I--”

“I wanted a few minutes to chat with my daughter’s new man, so I told everyone else to come late. Sue me.” She winked and went back to arranging the flowers.

Spike chuckled as he walked out the back door and scanned the yard for his girl. He spotted her standing precariously on the arm of a chair to adjust the lights strung between three large trees toward the back end of the yard. He set the flowers down on a table, snuck over and put his arms out to catch her. “Need a hand, love?”

Sure enough, she lost her balance--most likely because he’d startled her-- and teetered before he plucked her off the chair and into his arms.

“You’re here!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and smacked a kiss onto his cheek before letting her toes touch the ground.

“I am.”

She smiled up at him. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t know where everyone else is.” She shrugged.

So her mum hadn’t let her in on that plan. “They’ll be here soon enough I’m sure. In the meantime, I brought you something.”

“You did?” She looked surprised. Too surprised, as far as he was concerned. He really needed to step up his boyfriend behavior.

“Just a little something. “ He nodded toward the table with the flowers.

She looked over and gasped. “You brought me flowers?”

“It’s traditional, yeah?”

She cupped his cheek. “I love them.”

Spike couldn’t help but laugh. “You haven’t even checked them out yet. Maybe I got the wrong kind.”

She giggled and shook her head. “Not possible. There’s no such thing as the wrong flowers.” Buffy clutched his hand and led him across the yard. “Come in with me. I’ll find a vase and put them in water.”

“We...um, your mum and I pulled out a purple one already.”

Buffy lifted the flowers and made a little squeak he was fairly sure was a happy sound. “So pretty.” She looked up at him. “Can I tell you something and you’ll promise not to tease me about being a kid?”

“Cross my heart, kitten.”

“I’ve never gotten flowers from an actual guy before.”

“Well, that just proves that most blokes are idiots. Girl like you ought to be flowered in...well, yeah flowers.” He shrugged. “Guess I started that sentence without thinking enough about the end.”

“I kind of wish we didn’t have to stay for the barbeque. I’d really like to have some alone time with you right now.”

Spike grinned. “Oh yeah, what would you do?” He leaned down and tapped his ear.

Her lips brushed against his earlobe as she whispered. “I’d let you see the new panties I got at Victoria’s Secret last night.”

He groaned. “What color?”

“Have to wait and see.” She giggled and shrugged before tugging him into the house. Buffy stopped without warning in the middle of the kitchen. “You got my mom flowers too?”

The sunflowers sat in the clay vase on the counter.

He nodded slowly, unsure about her reaction. Was she upset? Did it make her flowers less special? Maybe he should have brought her something else. He kind of wished Joyce were around to give him a clue, but she’d apparently finished in the kitchen and gone to another room. He frowned. “I did.”

She glanced back over her shoulder with a Cheshire cat grin. “That’s incredibly sweet, Spike, but I have to tell you, you’re not turning out to be much of a bad boy after all.”

He chuckled as he pulled her against him. “Is that so?” His girl wanted to see the bad boy, did she?

“Yup. You’re sweet as sugar.”

Spike trailed his hand up her side and caught her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, angling her head back so her ear was closer to his lips. He spoke very quietly. “Go into the other room, take off your knickers and bring them to me.”

“What? No.” She laughed.

“I want to see them right now.”

She paused. Chewed on her bottom lip. “I guess I could go change into another--”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “No. None.” Her skirt went nearly to her knees. As long as she was careful when she sat down, no one but him would ever know. “Our little secret.”

She swallowed hard.

Spike leaned in even closer. “Bet those panties are getting wet while you think about it.” He pressed himself against her hip so she’d know she wasn’t the only one aroused by the mere thought.

“Spike!” She whisper-shouted.

“If you want me to keep playing Miss Buffy’s Proper Gentleman Caller when your friends and family get here, I’m gonna need a little positive reinforcement.”

“I couldn’t.” Her chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. She licked her lips.

“Too naughty for you?”

She trembled ever so slightly when he said naughty. She always did. “Yes.”

“Are you certain, love? Just think of all the ways I might shock your sweet Aunt Ida.”

“I don’t even have an Aunt Ida.”

“My point remains. If you want me to be a good little boy, I’m gonna need those knickers in my back pocket.”

She lifted her chin and arched an eyebrow. “What if I just demand yours?”

“You’d be out of luck.”

She look over her shoulder and grinned triumphantly. “Ha!”

“Because I’m not wearing any.”

Her mouth made a perfect ‘O’ Fuck, she’s too cute.
Spike chuckled and kissed her temple. “I’m just teasing, love. Go take care of your flowers.”

She turned to search his face. “But are you?” Her eyes darted down to sneak a peek at the front of his pants.

Spike simply smiled. “Those flowers are lookin’ right thirsty. Best get them sorted.”

***********************************************************************

He was pale. Of course Buffy had noticed that before. Still, seeing Spike outdoors chatting with her neighbors and letting her littlest cousin, Mitchell, climb on him drove it home a bit. Aside from riding his bike, which he did wearing a leather jacket, dark jeans and a helmet, Spike was basically an indoors kind of man. He had the opposite of a tan. Buffy hoped he was wearing sunscreen. Maybe she should check. Or would that be like nagging? This girlfriend stuff was trickier than she’d expected. It was great. Spike was...amazing, but having something--someone--amazing meant she had someone amazing to lose. It made her question her instincts. It made her just a little bit scared all the time, scared of screwing it all up.

But that wasn’t happening today. Today Spike had given her flowers and helped her mom carry out pasta salad. Today he definitely looked like a guy who was in it for the long haul. She wouldn’t bother him about the sunscreen; they’d be leaving soon anyway.

Buffy leaned her hip against a tree and giggled watching Spike pluck the toddler from his leg and lift him over his head. Mitchell straightened his legs and held out his hands like a flying superhero and Spike ran the length of the yard. He swerved as they neared a tree, pretending they might crash before faking right and turning left. The cuteness was nearly lethal.

“There’s just something about a man playing with kids, isn’t there?” Cordelia stepped up beside her.

“I didn’t think I could be more in love with him than I was this morning.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize that had happened already.” Her head tilted to the side while she studied Spike from their spot across the backyard. “He’s cute. Pretty really. But the clothes and the hair…”

“I like it.” Buffy shrugged. “It’s him.”

“So I guess things are getting serious. You brought him around to meet your mom and all.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” She turned to Cordelia. “I just--I have to run inside and umm...do something. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Ignoring Cordelia’s bewildered expression, Buffy hurried into the house. Her heart raced. It was a crazy idea: wrong and bad and dirty, but just imagining the look on his face had her running high on endorphins. He’d never thought she might do it, of that she was all but certain. She ducked into the powder room and took her painties off before her nerves could talk her out of it. They were sexy and impractical, barely more than strings, but when she took them off that tiny bit of missing fabric was instantly noticeable. She folded them into a tiny ball, closed her fist around them and took a deep breath. They could leave soon. She could totally do this. A nervous giggle slipped over her lips. Spike was going to flip.

Grinning, she headed back outside. Spike was digging around the cooler full of sodas. She took a second to appreciate the view. The man had a particularly nice butt and wore particularly tight jeans. It was a delicious combination. He was alone at the moment. She beelined toward him before someone else decided they wanted a ginger ale. Coming up from behind, Buffy gave him a big hug before sliding her hand between their bodies and slipping the underwear into his back pocket.

“Hey there.” He turned and returned her hug. “Kitten?” His voice was just a notch above a whisper. “Did you just grab my ass?”

“Back pocket.” She bit her bottom lip to keep from squealing and attracting attention.

His eyebrows shot up. Had anyone ever had such blue eyes before?

“You earned them.”

He exhaled loudly and lowered his gaze. “And now?”

“Nothing.”

Spike cleared his throat loudly then leaned down. “Sexiest. Girl. On the planet.”

Her face felt hot but her heart soared. “We can leave soon.”

“Good. But right now, I want you to go chat folks up knowing that I know what’s not under your dress.” He caressed her elbow lightly. “And think about what I’m going to do to that hot little body of yours when we get out of here.”

“Something good?”

Spikes tongue curled up to touch his teeth. He shook his head slowly. “ Naughty, baby. Just the way you want it.”

It was official; he was a glutton for punishment. Spike had known that a trip to the beach was a bad idea. He’d been certain that seeing his girl in a wet swimming costume was going to be torture. And then he’d gone ahead and done it anyway. They’d taken his bike out to a spot of coastline that he’d found rarely had other visitors. He’d thought that they would hang out on the blanket for a bit and watch the water, but Buffy had other ideas. She was barely off the bike before she stripped down to a pale blue string bikini and ran into the water.

Spike sat down beside her abandoned dress and watched. He was not much of a swimmer. He’d taken some lessons as a kid and had picked up the basics, but he’d never honestly enjoyed it. Buffy clearly did; she was probably part fish. He shook his head. He didn’t even own swim trunks; he had no business dating a mermaid. But there he was, sitting on the beach in his only pair of shorts and considering braving the waves just so he could touch her. He had it bad.

The sound of laughter and car doors slamming shut pulled him from silent reverie. He frowned at the sight of four young men carrying surfboards. So much for their privacy.

They, much like Buffy had, headed for the water immediately. And before Spike had finished cursing over his lost opportunity to lick his sweet girl’s pretty pink quim while on a sandy beach, he was facing an even more frustrating sight.

Buffy had come to shore and was standing in ankle deep water and chatting with two of the surfers. She laughed and placed her hands on her hips. He couldn’t hear their conversation over the crashing waves, but even sitting several yards away he could see the way her tiny wet swimsuit was clinging to the perfect globes of her ass. The way the young men were swarming made it clear he wasn’t the only one who appreciated the sight.

Spike stood up and stomped over. “We should be leaving.”

Giggling, she turned towards him. “We just got here.”

“I…uh…remembered something. Come on.”

She frowned a little but followed him back to the blanket. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you remember?”

“I think I can find us a more private spot.”

She laughed. “There’s plenty of room here. The surfers weren’t bothering me.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

Her eyes widened. “Spike!”

He knew he was being ridiculous. He didn’t need it pointed out for him.

“Spike, they were just being friendly. It was nothing. You know that.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I get it. I just don’t feel like sharing you today. Want to be all greedy and keep you for myself.”

Her lips curved up prettily. “You do?”

A wave of relief splashed up from his toes. He grinned. “I do.”

She dropped the dress she’d been readying to pull back on and stepped closer to him. “You know you’re pretty cute when you’re jealous.”

Spike frowned. He’d known it had been too easy. “I’m not—”

Her finger covered his lips. “Maybe even cute enough to distract me from the fact you don’t trust me with a couple of dumb surfers…this time.”

He sighed and kissed her hand before pulling it away. “It’s not you I don’t trust. I just…I just don’t like the way they were looking at you.”

“And I only care about how you look at me.”

Spike pulled a few pieces of wet hair off her cheek and tucked them behind her ear. “Sometimes looking at you hurts—you’re so bloody beautiful.”

She blinked quickly several times before wrapping her arms around his neck. “Okay, you’re out of the dog house.”

Grinning, he rubbed his cheek against her ocean-cooled forehead. “Was I ever truly in the dog house?”

“Definitely. We were going to have to buy you one of those plastic food bowls with your name on it.” She giggled lightly. “Actually, Spike is a pretty good name for—”

Spike gave her waist a pinch. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, little girl.”

She laughed and tightened her hold on him. “Why don’t you come swimming?”

Spike hugged her before sitting down and pulling her onto his lap. “I’m not a big swimmer.”

Buffy pushed at his chest. “I’m going to get you all wet.”

He smirked.

She blushed. “Is there anything you can’t turn into a dirty thought?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me that look.”

“What look?” He widened his eyes and shrugged.

“The look that says…I don’t know…dirty things.”

He tugged her closer and whispered in her ear. “I thought you wanted me to do dirty things with you, kitten.”

Her pupils grew big and round. “We can’t do…anything here.”

“Why not?”

“Spike!”

He wondered if he would ever understand why her shocked expression turned him on so very much. “We could. Want me to prove it?”

“There are—people, people who can see us, Spike.”

He glanced up to confirm that the surfers were occupied. “They aren’t paying any attention to us, love. Be none the wiser if I take care of my girl.”

She glanced anxiously at the surfers and bit her lip. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Which meant she wanted to but was nervous. Fuck, but she’s adorable. “Come here.” He turned her so she was sitting on his thighs facing him. Spike watched her chest rising and falling with increasing speed and saw the hunger in her eyes. She made him feel like a king. He kissed her hard before dropping his head down so their foreheads touched. “So, I’m looking at you in that sinful little swimming suit and I’m thinking you must’ve gone full tilt with the razor this morning. Tell me. Did you chop off all those shiny curls?”

She squirmed and hissed his name.

Spike stroked her stomach with two fingers. “I’m gonna find out soon anyway, love.”

“I got a wax yesterday, okay?” She looked around again.

“And?”

“And the waxing girl took off hair so I could wear my bikini.”

Spike inhaled deeply and looked down at the pale blue triangle of fabric again. “All of the hair.”

Her cheeks flared red. “Yes.”

“Fuck.”

“You don’t like that?”

“Kitten, I’m so hard right now I can’t even remember my own name.”

She grinned. “It’s William, which ends in yum as in ‘Wow, check out that yummy goodness with the bleached hair.’”

Spike squeezed her hips and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. He felt lighter, younger, free in a way that he hadn’t since he was a child. She did that to him. Buffy brought out a self he’d thought long lost.“I love you.”

She froze.

Clarity and the words he’d just uttered without thought hit him like a bucket of ice water. “I—I shouldn’t have—it’s too soon to be—”

“So you don’t mean it? It was just the hormones talking?” She was looking away so her eyes gave him no clues about what was swirling about in that big brain of hers.

Spike could almost hear the seconds ticking by. Perhaps, he thought, it was just the sound of his heart racing. They’d gone out less than a dozen times. How could he have just announced that he was in love with her? What kind of fool does that? “I meant it,” he admitted quietly.

She cupped his cheeks in her sand-dusted hands. “Really?”

He nodded.

She smiled. “Because I got waxed?”

She was killing him. How could she play off his love like it was a joke? “No.”

Buffy stroked his temple with the pad of her thumb. “You don’t have to look so nervous, you know?”

“How’s that?”

“You know I feel the same way. I was already halfway in love with you that night you told Rick off for me.”

The hand squeezing his heart eased, but only a touch. “So it’s still about that? I gave you a hand and you think I’m a hero?”

Buffy looked thoughtful. “It might have been a little bit like that…at first.”

“But not now?”

She was so pretty when she smiled that he couldn’t help smiling back. “You’re still my hero but now I’m not halfway in love with a mysterious stranger who whisked me off to safety on the back of his bike. Now I’m all the way in love with a man who acts all tough but stammers every time my mother tries to talk to him, who kisses like…” she shrugged before continuing, “goodness, and worries a weird amount about the possibility of getting grease on my clothes.” Her voice steadied as she spoke. “Now I’m way, way in love with a man who makes my head spin but won’t take advantage, who likes playing video games but calls me a kid and who I’m starting to think doesn’t know how to swim.”

“I know how to swim.”

“Sure.”

“Maybe I just don’t like the salt water. Did you think of that? It’s gross.”

“My mother went to visit her sister.”

Spike frowned at the abrupt change in subject.

“My place is closer than yours and it’s empty,” she explained.

“Are you hinting at something here?”

“Nope. I’m just saying that if we head to my house I can take a shower and wash off all the salt water that you apparently find gross.” She stood up, steadying herself with a firm grip on his shoulder. “Also….” She leaned down and he couldn’t help enjoying the view of her breasts her position provided. “I baked you some brownies.”

“And if I was hoping to eat something else?”

She laughed. “You mean like a sandwich or…” She hooked her thumbs under the strings holding up her bikini bottoms and grinned saucily.

He nodded, dazedly. She owned his soul. A cookie baking teeny-bopper owned his soul.

“Oh, love, this is just wrong.” Spike announced, standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

“What?”

He looked pointedly at the stuffed bear on her dresser.

Buffy laughed and pushed at his chest so that he’d put her down. “My grandmother gave it to me. It’s a collectible.”

He set her on her feet and continued to survey the space, his face growing pale.

Buffy tried to see the room the way he might. Okay, she hadn’t really redecorated in that past few years. She’d taken down the boy band posters of her high school years, but the cheerful pink and orange polka dot bed set with its fuzzy throw pillows didn’t exactly scream mature adult. It was just a room. It didn’t really mean anything.

He ran his finger along the edge of a framed photo. It was her and her dad. She was dressed in a black leotard and a pink tutu and her hair was pulled up in a classic ballerina bun. She’d been eight when the photo was taken but the sight of it instantly brought back the feeling of her father’s strong hands lifting into the air. “You a dancer, kitten?”

“It was Halloween. I was just dressed up for Trick or Treating. I took some gymnastics, though. Ballet was...boring, but I liked the clothes. That was a long time ago, you know? I mean there must be pictures of you as a kid somewhere, doesn’t mean that you’re a kid now.”

He turned back to her. “I know you’re not a kid, but...I’m not exactly the same person I was at nineteen. I did some growing since then. You’ll do some still too.”

Buffy stepped closer. She was having trouble reading his mood. He’d carried her up the stairs like a ravishing pirate, but the sight of her bedroom seemed to flip a switch. “Is that bad?”

“Of course not.”

Gently, she placed her hand on his chest. “So what’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He grinned but she didn’t buy it.

“Spike?”

“Can’t help thinking you’ll grow out of me just like you grew out of that tutu.”

Buffy sighed. “No. I won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“You can’t know that I will. Or that you won’t be the one who changes and stops wanting me.”

He reached over and traced her lips with his fingertip. “No. I’ll always want you.”

Her heart leapt despite her annoyance. She wanted to argue, but before she could respond, he was pulling her sundress up over her head and tossing it to the floor. His hands closed around her waist and he lifted her up, kissed her and moaned.

Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and held onto his shoulder as he carried her towards her bed.

“This bikini of yours ought to be illegal outside of a strip club,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Sitting on his thighs, Buffy leaned back so she could see his face. She wrinkled her nose. “You want me to wear it at a strip club?” She grinned and shrugged. “I suppose I could--”

His grip on her waist tightened. “Only if you want me to rip every poor sap in the place limb from limb.”

She giggled. “That seems a little excessive.”

“Might be I’m overly possessive when it comes to you.”

She stroked the side of his face. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“Say it anyway.”

“I love you.”

Something about the way he said it made Buffy think it was the truth but that he still wished it weren’t, like the words were being dragged out of him only under the threat of something even more painful. “I love you too, William.”

He grimaced. “Oi. Might be a big sap now, but it’s still Spike.”

“I don’t know, Spike is kinda bad. You...” She shrugged.

He leaned close and whispered, his breath hot near her ear. “I know what you’re trying to do.” His fingers slid up her sides and around her back. “You think if you taunt me a bit I’ll forget all my best intentions.” He untied the knots holding up her bikini top and let it fall between them.

He’d touched her plenty but she’d never been so close to naked with him before. She tried to hide her nerves. “I don’t think Spike believes in good intentions. He’s more a take-what-he-wants kind of guy.”

He chuckled. “And that’s the man you want in your pretty pink bedroom, on your pretty pink bed, kissing your pretty pink quim?”

Buffy nodded.

Spike rubbed his thumb over her cheek and under her chin. “Say the words.”

“You’re the man I want.”

“That works out nicely then.” He hugged her close, turned and laid her down with her head on the pillows. Spike’s breath was hot against her ear. “Best get comfy, kitten. I plan to take my time.”

He tugged his shirt over his head as he moved down and knelt beside her thighs. Buffy rose unto her elbows. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

The right corner of his lips curved upward and he shook his head.

“You don’t think men can be beautiful?”

Spike slipped his thumbs under the sides of her still damp bikini bottoms. “Lift your hips, love. I wanna see my girl all laid out for me.” He tugged her bottoms down her legs and dropped them onto the floor. “There now, there’s a beautiful sight.”

His gaze slid up and down her body twice. Buffy tried not to blush under his surveying gaze but failed.

He smiled before he met her eyes. “I look at you and I can’t believe that you’re for me—that I got this sweet, smart, sexy girl to pick me.”

Buffy placed her palm on his cheek. He turned and pressed his lips against her hand before grasping her wrists and bringing them up to the headboard. “You’re gonna wanna hold on to something.”

His eyes flashed devilishly and he winked before running his fingertips down the sides of her body. She gasped at the surge of lust filling her.

Spike settled his hands on her thighs, just above her knees.

She tensed on instinct, closing her legs more tightly.

“No hiding, love.” He shook his head as he caressed her knees with his thumbs. “I told you I was a bad man who would do wicked things to a pretty girl like you. You picked me anyway. Time to pay the piper.”

“What does that even mean?” She giggled breathily and relaxed her thighs so he could press them apart and move into the space between her knees.

“Now then. Tell me the truth.” He pushed his hands up the inside of her thighs, his calloused fingertips tickling her sensitive skin until his fingertips brushed the outer folds of her sex. “Do you want me to kiss you here?” His forefinger slid along the smooth wet slit at her center.

“Yes.”

“How bad?” His long, slender finger slipped inside.

Buffy gasped, her hips jumped from the bed. “Bad”

His thumb circled the sensitive bunch of nerves at the top of her entrance. “Good.” Spike pulled his hand away. “Maybe I’ll do that then …once I get through tasting the rest of you.”

“Wha—”

His mouth slanted over hers and claimed her lips in a possessive kiss. “So bloody sweet.”

She lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, but he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head. “Spike.”

“Not nearly done tasting you yet.” He brought his lips to her neck and left a trail of soft kisses along her collarbone.

Spike pulled her nipple into the heat of his mouth and teased it with his tongue and his teeth. Pleasure so intense it nearly masqueraded as pain shot through her. She arched her back without thought and pulled her hands free. She had to touch him. Buffy buried her fingers in his hair. Sweat from the heat of the day and the helmet he’d worn as they rode back from the beach had brought out his natural curls. She twisted the locks around her fingers and tugged, bringing his lips to her other breast.

He chuckled, low and quiet. “Is this lovely getting impatient for her turn?”

“Yes.”

“Like this?” He dropped a light kiss just to the side of her hardened peak.

“Spike, please.”

He rubbed his cheek against her nipple. “Don’t want you to beg, Buffy.” He grinned, all devilish charm, and glanced up at her. “Though I’m not exactly opposed to playing that game sometime. Right now I just want you to tell me what you want--exactly what you want me to do.”

“I think you know what I want,” she whispered.

“Sometimes. Sure. But it’s not really about that.” He kissed her shoulder.

“Why then?”

Spike tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “I need to know that you’re ready for this. If you can’t say the words, I--”

Buffy groaned with frustration. Her hands balled into fists.“Lots of people... have sex...without talking dirty.”

“Not with me.” He shrugged and shook his head.

“I think maybe you just get off on the talking.”

His grin widened. “No denying that. Hell, I’m man enough to admit the thought of you gettin’ all bossy--telling me what to do and where to do it--how to get you off over and over until you’re all glowy and satisfied--nothing is hotter than that.”

“Oh.” That swoony thing was happening again. Buffy forced herself to breathe. She just had to push past the clouds of lust and take a deep breath.

“Here’s the thing, kitten.” Spike spoke all low and deep right beside her ear. The heat from his lips tickled the shell of her. “I know you like dirty talk too. Been watching you squirm and press those pretty knees of yours together every time I say fuck or cock for weeks now. You like the words. They get you hot and wet, don’t they?”

He wasn’t even touching her but she was breathless with want. “Yes.”

“Good girl. Now tell me what you want? Let’s see something naughty come out of this gorgeous mouth of yours.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

“I want--I want your mouth on me.” She could see he was going to push for more. She pressed two fingers over his lips. “Like you did in your kitchen.”

He nipped her fingertip then soothed the spot with his tongue. God, his tongue was wicked.

Buffy leaned close, kissing his cheek on her way to his ear, and whispered the dirtiest sentence she could imagine saying. “Go see how wet you make me, William.”

******************************************************************************

She’d Williamed him again. Spike supposed he should mind or maybe just tell her that calling him a good guy’s name didn’t change the facts. He was still a bad, rude man. But he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be telling the truth. Hearing his long-lost, and much softer, alter-ego get the credit for making this gorgeous woman drip with want had his heart pumping pretty damn hard.

He kissed her soft, pink lips before sliding down the bed. He knelt between her knees and pressed her thighs further apart. “Mmm...very wet.” Spike leaned down and gave her one long lick. “ You taste even better than the cookies.” He smirked. “And the cookies are bloody fantastic.”

“That’s--” Buffy groaned. “Just do more--more tongue.”

It didn’t take much more. A few licks and a couple kisses had her grabbing his hair and whimpering his name.

“That’s my girl.” He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. “I wanna feel you squeeze my finger when you come.”

He stroked her lightly before sliding a single finger into her hot channel. Tight. That wasn’t unexpected and, though a part of him couldn’t wait to feel her squeezing the hell out of his cock, seeing just how snugly his finger fit brought all of his concerns to the forefront. This was a huge responsibility. His own first time was not a pretty picture. Making sure that Buffy’s was, that she got what she deserved, had to be his priority. There were so many ways he could screw it up, hurt her by going too fast or by failing to give her the romance she expected.

Spike pulled his finger out then slid back inside. “How’s this, baby? Feel good?”

She pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked at him with dazed eyes and flushed cheeks. She nodded. “Yes. Yes. Good.”

He shifted, so he lied beside her and stretched up to kiss her lips. “You just tell me what you need. Slower. Faster. Let me make you feel good.”

Her slim hand curved around the back of his neck. “I want you.”

He met her eyes. “I’m right here with you.” He curved his finger ever so slightly and sped up his movements.

Buffy gasped.

“So wet. So fucking hot. My sexy girl.” Spike made sure his thumb brushed her clit on each thrust and watched her climb toward her release. She was mesmerizing, so gorgeous he could barely breathe.

She came a few seconds later, her head falling back on the pillow as she struggled to catch her breath. “I wanted--I wanted to be with you, Spike.”

He was so hard it was a wonder he didn’t bust the zipper on his shorts. He tried to adjust surreptitiously. “Friday.”

Her forehead scrunched charmingly. “What?”

“Next Friday. I’ll pick you up. We’ll go out. A real restaurant--with people and tablecloths and something on the menu that isn’t served alongside fries. We’ll do it right--the whole evening.”

She rolled onto her side and wrapped her arms around his neck. “But that’s still five days from now.”

“Kitten, I’ve been waiting for a girl like you for years now. I think you’ll survive five more days.” He chuckled at her exaggerated pout, reached for her hand, and slid her palm down his chest and abdomen. “In the mean time…”

The restaurant was French and as cozy and romantic as any girl could wish. Buffy watched Spike fidget with his silverware across their candlelit table and grinned. Maybe they both felt a little like kids playing dress up.

“Have I mentioned that you look beautiful, Buffy? You do, you know?”

“You did, but it’s still nice to hear.” He looked good too. Different, but good. She wondered if his black slacks and grey button-down shirt were as new as her blue wrap dress. The sharp fold lines in his shirt seemed to indicate that it was.

She’d told him half a dozen times that she didn’t need a fancy meal, but she couldn’t deny the warm feeling in her stomach now that they were there. Not every guy would go to so much trouble. Buffy reached over and put her hand on his. “I’m a little nervous about later, but I think you might be more nervous than I am. Maybe you should order a drink or something. I can always drive us back.”

Spike’s eyes bulged a little, as though he couldn’t quite believe what she’d said. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Male pride was a tricky thing. Finally his shoulders started shaking and laughter like ricochet cut the stuffy quiet of the room. Still fighting to catch his breathe and control his amusement, he leaned toward her. “You’re too bloody cute to be real, kitten.”

Their waiter, an older man with freshly-starched white apron, appeared a few seconds later to deliver the sparkling water they’d requested and take their order.

“For the young lady?”

“La salade d'artichaut et aspergeset la velouté de champignons, s'il vous plaît.”

“Excellente, Miss. Vous parlez français?”

“Seulement un peu et mon accent est atroce.”

“Pas du tout.” He smiled encouragingly before turning toward Spike. “And for the gentleman? Sir?”

Spike frowned. “Oh right. The mussels you mentioned before and a scotch, rocks.”

“Very good.” The waiter dipped his head toward them both and walked away.

“You speak French?”

Buffy’s face warmed under his gaze. “Not very well, but I took it all four years in high school.”

Spike nodded and toyed with his napkin. “Wow.” His head bobbed up and down a few times. “Well it sounded pretty good to me.”

He wasn’t making eye contact. Her stomach churned. What just happened? “Spike?”

“Never took out a girl who could chat up folks in French before. That’s--uh--I’m just a mechanic, you know?”

How could such an incredible man be insecure? “You’re not just anything to me.”

He sighed and grinned sort of sheepishly. “I know, kitten. I guess I’m still just trying to wrap my head around that.”

His eyes were still focused on the table.

“There is no try. Only do.” She announced.

He looked up, his eyes narrowed. “Are you quoting Yoda?”

“I thought that was from The Karate Kid.” She shrugged. “It works either way. I love you and not a little bit but in this big, all-consuming, can’t stop smiling when I think about you way.”

He laughed softly. “Still gonna have translate the bloody menu for me next time. I had to order the special just to be sure I wasn’t getting frog.”

“Deal.” ******************************************************************************

They stumbled a little, kissing, as Spike unlocked the door and ushered her inside. As soon as the door shut behind them, Buffy pulled the front of his shirt free from his pants. Finally! Nerves what nerves? Frustration was much, much louder than her measly nerves.

“Just a sec, love.” He gripped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length.

She groaned. “Spike we waited, we did the fancy dinner and now--”

He cupped the back of her head and kissed her, hard. “Give me four minutes. Here.” He pushed his keys into her hand. “You can lock the door or get a drink or whatever. Just stay out here for four minutes.”

Buffy locked the front door, using the knob, and placed his keys and her clutch on the counter. She glanced at his bedroom door. What was he doing? She checked the clock on the microwave. Had it been a minute yet?

She considered taking off her dress. That would bold and sexy, wouldn’t it? She was wearing lingerie, a pale pink corset and matching panties that had cost twice as much as the dress. Spike had seemed so concerned with making everything perfect, it had only seemed fair that she do her part. Now, standing alone in the dark and with nothing to do but over-think it all, she was having second thoughts. Maybe the pink was too...innocent. There was a red one at the shop. Should she have gotten that one? Or maybe lingerie in general was over-the-top. Getting into the corset certainly hadn’t been sexy. What if getting it off was just as awkward? What was he even doing in there?

“Spike!”

He popped out of his bedroom instantly. “What’s wrong, love?” He took in the room with a quick glance and frowned.

“Why am I standing in your kitchen?”

He chuckled and stepped toward her. “Impatient little thing aren’t you?”

“I don’t need everything to be some perfect picture of...perfectness. I just want to be with you.”

His fingertips slid across her cheek before pushing into her hair. “But you deserve--”

“It’s too much pressure. It’s too much pressure on both of us. All night it’s been a little like we’re playing the parts of a couple about to have sex instead of just being us. I like us.”

Spike sighed and rested his forehead against hers. “Right. You’re right, kitten. God, how are you so bloody smart, huh?”

“Just born that way I guess.”

Spike took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Well, let’s see how you feel about this then.”

“What?”

He tugged her hand lightly and led her into his room.

Candles. There had to be at least two dozen candles scattered around the room. All but a couple were lit, giving the room a warm glow.

He stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Too much?”

“It’s...kinda perfect.”

“How about music? I have some Van Morrison queued up on my player. I didn’t think of it before and I’m pretty sure that’s the most romantic stuff I’ve got. I--”

“That sounds perfect too.”

“Too perfect?”

She turned toward him. “No. It’s perfect perfect.”

Spike reached over and hit play without breaking eye contact. “Now then...about this dress…” He toyed with ends of the belt tied around her waist as the soulful melody of Crazy Love floated around them.

“You don’t like my dress?” Buffy untied her belt, undid the hidden button and opened her dress like it was nothing more than a robe. She wriggled her shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor. Buffy glanced up at Spike’s face and her nerves melted away entirely. His pupils had dilated and his mouth hung open.

“I..fuck…”

“You like?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah, kitten. I like.” He stepped behind her, lifted her hair and pressed his warm, soft lips to her shoulder. His voice dropped low. “Promise you’ll wear this for me again?” His mouth brushed the side of her neck. He traced the shell of her ear with his nose.

Buffy trembled.“Yeah?” Her knees shook.

Spike’s hand slid around her waist, his thumb skimming the underside of her satin-covered breast before his fingers splayed covering her stomach. She was hot, nerves danced deep in her gut fanning the flames of her need for him. Buffy leaned her back against Spike’s chest and he pressed closer. The smooth, cool fabric of his pants rubbed the back of her thighs.

“MmHmm.” He nipped her earlobe. “Makes you look like a Christmas present.” Spike twirled the end of the ribbon that laced up the front of her corset around his finger. “Have I been a good boy this year, Buffy?”

He gave the ribbon a firm tug, undoing the bow she’d painstakingly tied earlier that evening. “There are hooks in the back, that might be--”

“Shh. Let me do it my way. Better to unwrap you bit by pretty little bit.” Spike slid a single finger underneath the loop the ribbon made between the top two eyelets and pulled it away from her body. He rubbed his cheek against hers. “One down.”

If he took his hand off her stomach, she’d collapse. He was the only thing keeping her upright. She was certain if he stepped back she’d simply melt. Buffy covered his hand with one of hers and threaded their fingers. “Don’t stop.”

“Because you want to let me look at you. Because you’re for me?” A touch of awe tinted his cocky tone as he drew the ribbon from the next set of eyelets.

“Yes.”

Spike freed another loop of ribbon...and then another. “My girl, my Buffy. So sweet, I want to eat you up--want to kiss every piece of you--taste your lips and your skin.” He lowered his hand, still covered with hers, and cupped her sex. “All of you.” He quickly pulled the ribbon free from the rest of the eyelets. The corset hung open, held against her back by nothing more that the pressure of his chest against her. He brought one hand up to cover her breast. “It looks like I was a very good boy.”

Shivers of excitement raced down her spine.“You’re always good to me.”

“Have you been thinking about this?” He slipped two fingers beneath the ruffled edge of her underwear so he could caress her bare skin. “Have you been imagining what my cock will feel when like I’m buried deep inside you?”

“Yes.” The memory of a week’s worth of vivid fantasies brought heat to her cheeks. She shifted, pressing herself into his touch. How could his fingers ease and increase her need at the very same moment?

“And how have you been picturing it, kitten?” He kissed her temple and rested his forehead against her hair. His breath was hot along the back of her neck.

“Umm...good.”

Spike gave a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, I’m counting on that too.” He pulled her corset free and dropped it onto his dresser before spinning her around.

“Oh!” Buffy looped her arms around his neck to steady herself.

“But I was looking for details.” He bent slightly at the waist and scooped her into his arms. “Are you on top or am I? Is there anything you’d like me to do...or say?”

Spike carried her the three steps to his bed and laid her down. He trailed his fingertips from her left knee down to her ankle then sat on the edge of the mattress to remove her shoes.

Buffy rose on her elbows and watched him place her silver heels gently on the floor.

His gaze slid over her as he stood up and he smiled. “I’m not trying to push or tease you into saying something dirty.” He grinned at her skeptical expression. “Not sayin’ I won’t do that later. Just--you only get one first go, right? If there’s anything you need from me--”

“You love me, right?” She hoped it sounded more like a statement than a question.

His eyes widened. “More than anything.”

“I think that’s all I need--well--and for you take off that shirt.”

Spike unbuttoned the top couple buttons on his shirt and reached over his head and tugged it, and his undershirt, off in one smooth movement. “That’s it?”

Buffy nodded. The sight of him still knocked her breathe from her chest. His skin...his shape...he was too beautiful.

He toed off his shoes and placed his hands on the foot of the bed. “Goldilocks is about to get eaten all up by the big bad wolf.”

“I think you mean Little Red--” She froze, words forgotten.

Spike was crawling up the bed. Crawling like some kind of sexy man-beast, all long sinewy muscles and smooth skin. He paused to drop a kiss on her ankle.

Her heart skipped a beat, watching him angling his head just so and lowering his mouth to brush his warm lips over her ankle bone. Spike looked back up, his eyes alight with mischief and an intensity she could only identify as love and Buffy made time freeze. She had to save this moment--had to preserve and catalog the mental image of this beautiful man, the fluttering in her stomach, the ache between her thighs, the absolute certainty that he was the one she wanted to share herself with. She wanted to remember this forever. She would remember this forever and she’d need every detail.

He kneeled between her feet and kept his too-blue eyes on hers as he dragged the pink satin thong she’d spent thirty minutes selecting and two days worrying about down her legs and over her feet. He dropped it to the floor and licked his lips. His mouth made her weak. Just the sight of his smirking lips and curling tongue had her throbbing. And wet. He made her wet. How deliciously dirty was that?

She reached out to him with both hands and tugged him up the length of her body so their mouths could meet. Spike kissed her like only he could, until her toes curled and coherent thought was nothing more than a hazy memory. Buffy pushed her fingers through his thick hair and down the back of his neck as he settled his body over hers. “I like this,” she whispered. “I like being able to look into your eyes and I like being able to hold you.”

Spike balanced his weight on one elbow and touched her cheek. “I like that too,” he said, matching her whispered tone. He slid his hand down to her shoulder and over her collarbone. “You are...so pretty.” He shook his head and sighed.

“What?”

“I’m still not sure how I managed to resist crawling after you and begging for scraps that first time you came by the shop, cookie girl.”

“You’re a good man. I mean--it was dumb, but you were trying to be noble or something and that’s sweet.”

“Sweet? I’m sweet now?” Spike groaned. His chin dropped against his chest and he rested his forehead on hers. “You’ve broken me, kitten.”

“Do you really think that?” Buffy rubbed her hands down his back, her fingertips skimming the ridge of his spine before coming to a rest at the small of his back.

He lifted his head and tapped his nose against hers. “No. No, I’m teasing. I--I think maybe you’ve made me a whole man.”

Buffy inhaled a shaky breath. Her heart was so full it hurt. Words seemed too small--too imprecise to express the totality of her emotions. Instead, she pressed her lips to his lips and arched her body up to meet his body. Sometimes, she suddenly realized, there aren’t enough words or enough minutes in the day to tell how very much you feel and you have to show it--you have to be it.

Spike slid his hand between their bodies, his knuckles teased her stomach as he worked to removed his belt and unbutton his slacks with one hand. The sound of his zipper pulled a sigh of relief from somewhere deep inside her. She’d only known him for a few months, but it felt like she’d been waiting for this, with him, for years. Buffy helped push his pants over his hips and used her feet to shove them down his legs. They tangled around his feet and the temporary awkwardness of removing them made Spike growl. A giggle of pure delight bubbled up and Buffy didn’t bother hiding it.

“Oh yeah?”

“Definitely.”

Spike chuckled softly. “Brat.” He kissed her chin, the tip of her nose and the spot just below her ear that always made her knees go weak. He braced himself on one arm and reached across the bed to the bedside table to pluck a condom from the little bowl on top. “Just so I’m ready when you’re ready.”

He ripped the package open with his teeth, switched arms and slid it on with one hand.

Impressive. The man knows what he’s doing. Unlike, say ...me. The not knowing sucked. Knowing that other women knew...had known with Spike even...that sucked even more. Frustration,jealousy, nerves, love--it was all a jumble. Buffy rubbed her hands up and down his back. “Spike?”

Spike tossed the wrapper on the floor and settled his elbows on either side of her shoulders. He smiled down at her. “Yeah, love?”

“Now. I’m ready now.”

“I thought maybe I’d give you a bit of a warm up. You do like it when I--”

Buffy pulled his mouth to hers for a hard kiss and hooked her leg over his hip. “I need you.”

His fingers gripped her hip tightly as he pressed inside, stretching and filling her with one firm movement.

She gasped. It didn’t hurt. All the talk she’d heard, all the minutes worrying, and then no pain. It was awkward. It was certainly awkward, the sensation of being pinned to the bed and...invaded, but it wasn’t really pain.

“Fuck,” Spike whispered.

“What’s--”

“Are you ready, love? Tryin’ to give you time, but fuck--you feel like heaven.” He rubbed his cheek against her forehead like a cat saying ‘mine’, then pushed up on his elbows. “Hey there cutie, look at me.”

Buffy blinked hard and tried to focus on his eyes. The strain of holding himself back was clear on his face, but so was the love.“I’m good.” She nodded and stroked his shoulder.

“Good. Nice and slow then. Eyes on me.” He chose a slow, steady rhythm and began rocking. Out. Back in. Out again. Home again.

“Oh.” The familiar ache--the building, burning need started in her stomach.

“That’s it, kitten.” Perspiration made his hair curl and his forehead shine. “Now meet me half-way. Lift your hips. Push into me.”

She did. The first try was off beat and the second was too. She grinned when she finally found the rhythm--their rhythm.

“That’s it...fuck..so good.” He reached down and held her hip as he moved faster.

Buffy echoed him. “Good.” It was. Faster was really--really good--and when she lifted her hips his body met hers at just the right spot. Again and again. And that was even better than good.

Spike’s gaze was intense, completely focused on hers. To Buffy, the uninterrupted eye-contact seemed every bit as intimate as any other part. She resisted the urge to close her eyes or look away. She wanted all of him, even if it meant baring every part of herself too.

He was getting close.. His nostrils flared. His grip on her hip tightened.

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “I..” She didn’t have the words.

“You’re mine.” His voice was rough. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

He thrust harder, filled her deeper than she’d thought possible, and came with her name on his lips. “Buffy.”

She combed her fingers through his hair and pressed a kiss on his bottom lip.

Breathing hard and fast, he collapsed alongside her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Fuck. That was--I’m sorry, kitten. I thought I’d last longer. I should have made sure you were ready.”

“I was ready.”

“To come. I should have warmed you up better. You deserved--but I bollocks it.”

“No you didn’t.” She rolled on to her side and pulled back so she could see his face.

“I know what you look like when you come. You didn’t, love. I bollocks it up.”

She gave a breathy laugh. “That’s crazy.” She caught his face between her palms. “Are you leaving? Or kicking me out of bed?”

“Of course not!” He looked horrified. “ I’m gonna--”

“So the night’s not even over. Catch your breath. You can do that later. That’s not the main part.”

“Yeah it is. For me, taking care of my girl is the main bloody part.” He shook his head. “I can do better. I promise.”

“You did take care of me, William. You made me feel...loved.”

“I do love you, baby. I--” He stopped abruptly and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply.

When he pulled back, Buffy smiled. “So it was good. It was really, really good.”

“You’re sure? And you’re okay? Do you umm...need anything?”

“I’m good. I--I had sex, Spike, not...surgery.” She shook her head. He was sweet, weird, but sweet.

“Good. Brilliant.” He nodded a few times before grinning. “Why don’t you lie back then and we can see how many licks it takes to get to the center of my girl.”

Seventeen.

It took seventeen.

Spike was awoken by a slight jostling of the bed. He blinked open his eyes to see Buffy slipping out from beneath the covers. He caught her wrist. “Where you going?”

A blush colored her cheeks as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “I--I umm...need to...freshen up.”

She meant pee. His girl was too embarrassed to say she had to pee. Fuck, but she’s adorable. Spike leaned toward her and pulled her hand to his lips so he could brush a quick kiss over her knuckles before releasing her hand. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Buffy nodded then dashed across the room and into his bathroom.

Not getting her off during their--and more importantly her--first time was still weighing on him, though he hoped the two times she came afterward helped with his redemption at least a little. He should have insisted on more foreplay or at least chosen a position that allowed more touching. She always responded to his touch. Of course, he should have had a bit more control--lasted longer. He wasn’t a kid.

“You’re frowning.”

He turned to find her standing by the bed, wrapped up in a towel. “You’re wearing a towel.”

Her shoulders bounced up and down. “I got cold.”

Spike lifted the edge of the blanket. “Come back to bed and I’ll warm you up.”

She dropped the towel and wriggled under the covers beside him.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “Better?”

“Mmmm...why were you frowning?”

“ ‘guess I just missed you, kitten.” He pressed a kiss against the crown of her head and inhaled slowly. She always smelled good. Sweet. Maybe all the baking meant she’d absorbed a lifetime’s worth of sugar and vanilla.

“I was only gone for a minute.” She rolled onto her side and brushed her thumb over his cheek. “What were thinking about?”

He sighed. She read him too easily. “I was wondering how you were this morning. If you’re hurtin’ or sore...any regrets.” Damn. Even asking was hard. What if she was regretting it--him--what could he do? She probably wouldn't admit it, but he could tell if she was lying. Heart in his throat, he kept a careful watch on her eyes.

“Nope--all around nope.” She played with his hair. “I’m pretty sure I have the sweetest, sexiest, most-prettiest-eyes-having boyfriend in the history of boyfriends.”

Spike hugged her close and rubbed his cheek against her head.

“How about you? Are you...was last night okay for you?” Her voice wavered a little.

That waver--the mere idea that she could still wonder--squeezed his heart. He sat up and pulled her onto his lap. “Buffy--love, being with you last night--it was the best night I can remember.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes.”

She chewed on her lip and stared at him with narrowed eyes.

“You doubt that? Knowing how I feel about you?”

She shook her head. “No. I was just thinking about how many nights you’ve had. I guess a lot. I mean you are so much older than me--practically a cradle robber.”

His jaw dropped as she dissolved into giggles. She was teasing him. She hadn’t gotten more than a couple hours of sleep; she was probably giddy from exhaustion.

“You. Are. Such a brat.” He tickled her side until she squealed then flipped her down on her back and caught her hands with his. He pulled them up over her head and held them down firmly. Spike tugged away the blanket that had twisted around them and took a moment to look her over. Fuck. Seeing her was like getting socked in the gut. Bam! Every time. Too sexy to be real. Her breasts wiggled enticingly. Her hardened nipples were so fucking pretty they practically begged to be nipped at and kissed. He bent down and wrapped his lips around one firm peak. A quick twirl of his tongue made her gasp. He looked up and grinned.“Thought you could get away with it just ‘cause you’re too bloody cute to be real, didn’t ya?”

“Pretty much.” Her smile was about a mile-wide. “And there’s that whole you love me thing.”

Spike hadn’t known he could feel like this, so happy he couldn’t contain it, so happy it almost hurt. “There is that.” He studied her face for a few moments before resting his forehead on hers. “You should get a bit more sleep, love.”

“I’m not tired.”

“That so?”

“Yup.” She shrugged as much as she could with him holding her hands up by the headboard. “Totally awake.”

“Well then…” He dropped her hands, grabbed her waist and rolled them both so that she was sitting on his thighs. “You can be on top this time.”



******************************

Buffy finished putting the plates in the dishwasher and wiped off the countertop.

“Are you staying in tonight?” Joyce pushed the stools under the counter and fidgeted with the bowl of fruit.

“I think so, why?”

“Just wondering. You’ve been spending a lot of nights at William’s apartment these last few weeks.”

Oh. Buffy froze for a second. “Is that...um is that a problem?”

Joyce chuckled. “I know you’re sleeping together, Buffy. That’s not--I mean one perk of you living in dorm we never really considered was that I wouldn’t have to be quite so aware of your evening activities...but I’m dealing. And I’m glad you decided to live here this year. I just haven’t seen much of you lately. Maybe we could rent a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

“That sounds perfect.” Relief mixed with a genuine desire to spend an evening in with her mom. It had been awhile since they’d had any real mother-daughter quality time. She’d made it a point not to be the type of friend who disappeared just because she had a boyfriend, but between Spike, friends and school she hadn’t been home much.

“Good. Is there...should we have...should we talk about anything?” Joyce winced.

Her daughter mimicked the expression.“I think we covered it all back when I was like fourteen.”

“But then it was all still so distant and hypothetical.” Joyce gave a dramatic, wistful sigh.

Buffy laughed. “It’s under control, mom. Really.”

“Good. Of course. And I like him, Sweetheart. I do. I think William’s a good man and that he genuinely cares about you.”

“He does. He is and he does. Lot’s of goodness. Bundles of goodness.”

“I still need to tell you to be careful.”

Buffy nodded. “Okay.”

“I don’t mean in the practical way. Well, actually, I do mean be careful in the practical ‘please use protection’ way, but I also mean be careful with your heart...and William’s too. Even good people make mistakes. Try not to be too hard on each other when you do.”

Buffy’s second “okay” was a touch more solemn.

“And now why don’t you go pick a couple of movies and I’ll make popcorn and we can pretend we didn’t just have this chat.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

***************************

Spike swore in frustration and scooted out from under a shiny red Mercedes convertible. She was fucking gorgeous but she needed an entirely new engine. The owner ought be hung by his balls for treating her so shitty. He gathered up the tools he’d been using and stomped toward the shelving on the back wall.

“Spike?” Buffy called out from the front room. “Are you still here?”

“Back here, love. I’m almost done. Though I’m gonna have to stop home for a shower if you want to go out tonight.”

She appeared like some kind of vision in the doorway. “I locked the front door,” she announced casually as she placed a basket carrying unnamed goodies on the workbench.

Spike’s frustration with the car’s neglectful owner found a new channel instantly. “Did you now?” He looked her up and down slowly. She’d worn a flirty red top, a short denim skirt and red heels. His gaze settled on those shoes and he couldn’t help indulging in a moment’s fantasy about exactly how they’d feel pressed into his back.

“Yup. Are you ready to get off?” She twirled a bouncy lock of her pretty golden hair around her finger.

He was almost too hard to see straight. “Bloody hell. I hope that was intentional.”

She grinned impishly and he lunged toward her.

Buffy giggled. “But you’re so hot and...dirty.”

“Damn straight.” He scooped her up, carried her over to the Mercedes, and laid her down on the hood. “You like it dirty, don’t you?”

She nodded. “Oh yeah.”

“My sweet girl. Did you bring me a treat? Something good to eat?” He shoved her skirt up to bunch around her waist and spread her thighs as he lowered his mouth for a taste. He rubbed his cheek against the soft skin of her inner thigh, then kissed her through the cotton fabric of her underwear.

She gasped as he tried to push her panties to the side and tore them. “Spike!”

He chuckled and gave her another lick.

The heel of her right shoe pressed against his side. “More.”

“Good girl.” He licked and sucked and teased until she was panting.

He pulled back and she groaned. Spike chuckled hoarsely. “Don’t worry, kitten. I’m no where near done with you yet.” He brushed some hair away from her eyes and cupped her cheek as he leaned close to her face. “I want to see those pretty breasts of yours bouncing while I take you.”

He watched the shock and lust run across her face. He was pretty sure she all but came.

“Unbutton your top before I ruin it, kitten.”

She nodded and quickly undid the top few buttons. Spike dragged her bra down and took one sexy peak between his lips. “Mmmm”, he murmured against her skin. “So hot.”

He licked the valley between her breasts and kissed a path across her collarbone and up the length of her neck.

Buffy’s fingers tangled in his hair and yanked his mouth to hers for a deep kiss. When he pulled away, her lips looked swollen, her cheeks were flushed and she was staring back at him with eyes so full of passion they made him tremble. How could she be his? How could he be so lucky?

Spike tugged his wallet out of his back pocket, found the condom he kept stashed there and dropped the rest on the floor.

He pressed a kiss below her earlobe then spoke in low, quiet voice. “Are you ready for me, love?”

“So ready.” Her fingertips caressed the sides of his face.

A deep rumbling moan worked it’s way up his throat. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment before straightening up.

Spike held the condom wrapper between his lips while he undid his belt and zipper and freed his erection. He stroked himself a few times, nearly exploding when Buffy lifted herself up onto her elbows to watch.

Her lips curled into a smile. “Need any help with that?”

Spike tore open the wrapper and slid the condom on. “What did you have in mind, baby?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It just looks lonely.”

“You can fix that, can’t you?” He gripped her thighs and pulled her closer to the edge.

She gripped his forearm tightly and Spike glanced up to meet her eyes.

She bite her bottom lip for a second before grinning. “Hard.”

With a single nod, he lifted her hips and pushed inside. “Your wish. My command.”

Spike took her hard and fast. Sweat ran down his back and dripped off his hair. He should have taken the three seconds to remove some clothes, but Fuck! she looked too good.

Her head was thrown back and her mouth was open. She was close. He lifted her hips higher and pushed in deeper.

“Yes!”

“You like that, kitten? You like me deep?”

She nodded. “Yes. Lots of yes.”

“Next time I’m gonna bend you over the workbench so I see that cute little arse of yours while I fill you up nice and deep. Think I can make you scream?”

She wrapped her legs around his waist as she came, squeezing him hard inside and out.

“That’s it. That’s it, Buffy. God, yes.” Spike came with a yell then fell forward. His head rested on her stomach as he fought to catch his breath.

Buffy lifted herself up on one elbow and ran her hand over the back of his head again and again. “That was...wow. It was…”

“Like my birthday and Christmas all at once.”

She giggled. “I brought sandwiches and lemonade.”

Marry me. The words popped into his head and very nearly slipped over his lips. She was everything he had ever wanted, how could he not want to keep her with him forever? He had to get his shit together. She deserved...everything. He lifted his head and caught her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “I love you, Buffy.”

She leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. “I know.”

Buffy rose up onto her toes and tried to peek over Spike’s shoulder. “Are you sure I can’t help with anything?”

Spike turned away from the stove, held up the wooden spoon and glared. “Where are you supposed to be, girly?”

“I just want to help.”

His voice was deep. His tone was firm.“I am cooking dinner for you. You are waiting on the couch.” He might as well have stomped his foot.

Buffy bit her lip to hold back the giggles. The whole thing was adorable. He’d been working on what she thought was meant to be a platter of chicken enchiladas for most of the afternoon. He kept sneaking into his room to make secret calls to whoever was helping him and an hour earlier he’d realized he forgot to get something at the store and talked Charlie Gunn into getting it and meeting him in the parking lot. She wasn’t supposed to know that. She was meant to believe that he’d simply (and very suddenly) needed to move his bike into a more shaded location. He’d tried to hide the bag under his t-shirt when he came back in.

She settled back on the couch and pretended to watch television. It was hard with Spike being so cute.

He was apparently dreadful in the kitchen. She’d heard him murmur at least three words that she didn’t recognize but was pretty sure were not considered polite and three that she knew but didn’t use.

Still, he was trying.

And he would not let her help.

She wasn’t sure what had brought on the cooking thing exactly, but a few days earlier Spike had decided it was totally unacceptable that she had cooked so much for him and that he’d not returned the gesture. If she’d known at the time why he was asking, she’d have told him that grilled cheese sandwiches were her favorite food.

“I hope you’re hungry, kitten. These just happen to be my specialty.”

He’d said something similar twice earlier. It was growing even harder to pretend to believe him. “Yay! I can’t wait for the yumminess.”

He turned and studied her with narrowed eyes. Perhaps she’d gone too far with that one. She gave him her most innocent smile. He raised a single eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

Buffy turned back toward the television and patted her pocket surreptitiously. She wanted to take out the contents and stare at it, but she was trying to play it cool. He’d given her his key. Or, more precisely, her own key to his apartment. She hadn’t really seen that coming either.

It was on the counter when she got there, the sticker from the hardware store that had made the copy still attached. Spike had waited an hour or so before casually gesturing to it. She could come straight there after classes, he’d said, that way she wouldn’t have to wait for him at the “smelly, old shop”. And maybe if she ever needed a quiet place to study...he’d started, before shrugging and turning back to the pan on the stove.

Buffy had slid it into her pocket and kissed his cheek. He’d blushed a little and mumbled that she should make herself to home before he shooed her out of the kitchen area.

He’d played it as a practical matter, but his forced casualness and adorable blushing spoke louder. He was really letting her into his life, trusting, committing...the whole shebang.

It was quite a turn-around in three months.

She wondered if letting herself in to surprise him with dinner was an acceptable use of the key.

“Don’t get too caught up in that movie, kitten,” Spike called out from his spot near the stove. “Supper’s almost done.”

Forty-seven minutes later he placed a plate of multi-colored mush with a red sauce in front of her.

“Wow! This looks great!”

Spike frowned. “Looks aren’t the important thing here. It got a bit jumbled when I was getting it out of the pan.”

“Of course. I just meant it smells really good.” She scooped a big chunk onto her fork and, bracing herself, gave it a try.

Edible. That was best word, Buffy could come up with after sampling her dinner. The chicken seemed fully cooked, so that was a big plus, but other parts, like the onions were still nearly raw.

She made yummy noises anyway.

Spike seemed pleased until he tried the mound on his own plate. “You don’t think it’s too...crunchy?”

“No. Not at all. It’s more...authentic.”

“Right. Of course. I just wasn’t sure if you liked it that way.”

“I do. This is great.” Love helped her finish her entire plateful.

“Did you want more?”

Not even love could get her through another helping.“Not right now. That was a big serving. I’m totally full.” Spike seemed skeptical again, so she changed the subject. “Does your friend Charles have a girlfriend?”

Spike paused while gathering their plates. “Gunn? Why?”

“The carnival is next week. I was thinking we could go and I have a friend and maybe Charles could come--”

He chuckled and headed toward the sink. “Are you trying to fix up my friends, now?”

“It’s not like an official fix-up. I just thought they might get along and it’s always more fun to go the carnival with a group.”

Spike dropped back onto the couch and tugged her closer. “I don’t know, kitten. Gunn is probably the only one of my friends who’s presentable and I’ll admit he could use some help in the girl department, but...the carnival…”

Buffy climbed over, so she was sitting on his thighs facing toward him. “The carnival is awesome. There’s fried dough and cotton candy and cheesecake on a stick and--”

Spike pinched her waist. “Where do you put it all? You’re barely bigger than a mosquito.”

“I get a lot of exercise.” She arched an eyebrow. “Especially lately.”

“Aww...my girl does innuendo now.”

“Proud?”

“Very.”

“Take me to the carnival and we can make out on the ferris wheel.”

“When is this thing and what should I tell Gunn about your friend?”

Buffy grabbed his ears and leaned in to give him a quick, firm kiss. “She’s great. She’s really funny and pretty and…” Slutty was not exactly the right word. Buffy tried to come up with the right way to warn Spike about Anya’s tendency to speak candidly about...everything, but mostly sex.“blunt.”

*******************************

Gun and Roses’ Sweet Child of Mine filled the shop as Spike replaced a carburetor in an old Honda Accord. He hummed along to the music quietly.

“Hey man, there’s a lady up front askin’ for ya.”

Spike frowned at Gunn and half-heartedly wiped his hands on a rag as he strolled to the front room. He paused in the doorway. “M...Joyce? Is there--is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine. I just needed an oil change and I wanted to to have a quick chat with you. I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

Spike tensed. What were the chances he was one of the birds she wanted dead? “Oh?”

Joyce chuckled. “It’s nothing worth looking so nervous about, William. Buffy’s birthday is in a couple weeks. I want to coordinate our plans.”

“Right.” He nodded. It was? What kind of crap boyfriend didn’t know when his girl’s birthday was? “Good. Brilliant.”

“It’s okay that you didn’t know. I assumed that she hadn’t told you. She has a thing about her birthday. Thinks they’re cursed or something. But I thought maybe this year, we could convince her otherwise.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Good. Now who do I see about the oil change?”

“Don’t need the shop for that. I could swing by after my shift and handle that for you. Give us a chance to make those plans.”

She’d argued a bit, said that she was happy to pay for the service and didn’t want to trouble him, but he’d insisted and drove over as soon as he finished up at work. It only took twenty minutes and he figured he could use all the brownie points he could get with his girl’s mum.

Joyce brought out a cold beer as he finished up. “I have to admit it is nice to have a handy man around again,” she started. “Though, to be honest, Hank wasn’t very handy. He was an accountant, not really a do-it-himselfer.”

Spike winced. Accountant is a real job, an important, grown-up job, unlike say...a grease monkey. He nodded toward the beer. “Thanks. Just let me get cleaned up first. Messy work.”

“I really appreciate it.”

“‘s not difficult. Just messy.” He gave her a smile and followed her into the house.

Joyce gestured toward the kitchen sink. “I’ll go get you a bigger towel.”

Spike scrubbed to his elbows and was just rinsing the suds off when Joyce returned. He accepted the sage-colored towel she held out. “Thanks. You know I’m gonna buy the shop--got a deal worked out--won’t just be a mechanic forever. In a couple years, I’ll be able buy a little house with a yard and all.”

Joyce’s forehead wrinkled, but she smiled as she handed him the beer. “That’s wonderful, William. Though I think you’re undervaluing your current position. You seem quite good with cars.”

Spike nodded.

“Have a seat. I’ll dig up some cookies and tell you what the girls and I have in mind for Buffy’s birthday.”

*****

“That bottle moved. I hit it and it moved. They should have given you the big bear.” Spike scowled.

“But I like the pig.”

“I hit all three bottles. I should go back. They’re gettin’ away with a bloody scam-operation.” He turned back toward the carnival game in question.

Buffy wrapped her hand around Spike’s arm. “I know you hit the bottle. Everyone saw it move. But I like the pig better than the bear anyway. He’s way cuter. Look.” She held up the curly-tailed, stuffed, pink pig she’d just claimed as Spike’s prize at the carnival game booth. “He’s all round and cuddly. That bear was creepy.”

Anya nodded. “There’s probably a hidden camera in it’s eye.”

Buffy turned toward her, frowning. “What?” She wasn’t sure Anya was helping matters.

“They can’t possibly be making enough money off these games. They probably supplement their income with illegally-obtained nude photos.”

Buffy exchanged shrugs with Charles Gunn before looking back at Spike. “I doubt that...part, but I suspect that same bear has been hanging there for a decade. It’s old and gross.”

Spike arched a single eyebrow. “You like the pig?”

“I love the pig.”

“You have strange taste.”

Buffy grinned. “Obviously. I mean look at who I’m dating.”

His mouth opened a little in surprise before he smirked. “Brat.” His eyes flashed with mischief.

The familiar warm fuzzy feeling filled her tummy.“Yup.”

Spike hooked his finger through a belt loop on her shorts and tugged her closer. “Gonna have to kiss you for that.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss.

Her toes curled against her sandals. Could it always be like this? Could he always make her feel so much with just a look?

Anya cleared her throat. “If you’re done with all that, we can get back to the important thing.”

Spike chuckled, his lips vibrated against hers before he lifted his head. “And what’s that?”

“No one has won me any toys yet.”

Charles dropped an arm over Anya’s shoulders. “You’re right. How do you feel about fish?” He gestured toward a nearby booth. “I can get a ping pong ball into one of those cups easy enough.”

“”Prizes shouldn’t come with bills. Well, aside from taxes, although arguably that’s…”

“Anya?”Buffy bit back a laugh.

“The goldfish. It’s a horrible prize. The fish itself is worth less than a quarter, but if you win it I need to buy a tank and rocks, one of those plastic castles and food for the rest of that fish’s life. You might as well just hand me a bill for $200.”

“Okay. No fish then.” He pointed to a basketball game.”Stuffed rabbits?”

“No.” Her tone was too final to even bother asking for an explanation.

Charles laughed.“How do you feel about those monkeys with the velcro on their hands?” He nodded at a dart game.

“Monkey’s are cute and have rudimentary tool-using skills. Also darts are dangerous, so you’ll appear more masculine and appealing while playing.”

“So that’s good?”

“Yes. Winning a monkey will definitely improve your odds of getting laid later.”

Charles’s eyes widened for a second before he marched Anya toward the dart game.

Buffy giggled. “I told you she was kind of blunt.” She curled her hand around his elbow and soaked in the carnival atmosphere. The jaunty music, the smell of popcorn wafting through the air, the periodic shouts from children riding the Tilt-a-Wirl, she loved it all. She always had. But sharing it with Spike made it all feel new.

Spike nodded. “Blunt’s good. Men are simple creatures, we like being told what a girl wants.”

“Really?”

“Sure thing, love. Makes it easier to keep ‘em happy.”

“In that case, I want to ride the love tunnel.”

“Is there any chance that’s as dirty as it sounds?”

Buffy giggled and pointed to the entrance of a carnival ride meant to emulate a gondola trip in Venice. “It’s a fake boat ride, but once we’re alone in the dark…”

Buying the ring was a mistake. Spike knew it before he even got it home. Now the damned thing called to him like the beating heart in that Poe story. Ask her. Ask her. Ask her before she realizes that she can do so much better. Don’t screw this up!

He buried it deep in his sock drawer.

*****************************************

Buffy watched Spike drive. He was being weird...and not just Spike weird, weird for Spike. She tried again. “It’s only like 6:30, why don’t we go back to your place and order some take-out?”

Spike glanced at her for a quick second before focusing back on the road.“ Yeah. Thing is, I’ve got to do some work tonight. Best I bring you home now. Maybe you and your mum can have supper together. Sure she’d like that.”

“You have to work on a Saturday night?”

“It happens.”

It hadn’t in the three and a half months they’d been together or in the couple weeks she’d spent trying to get his attention before that. She fought the urge to pout. Spike spent nearly every evening with her, it was ridiculous to get upset because, every once in awhile, he had something to do that didn’t involve her.

The problem was that he was being so vague. She just knew he wasn’t being entirely honest.

It made her feel a little sick. She wondered if she should tell him--just admit that she could read him too well for secrets and knew he was hiding something. Would it help?

“Call me when you get done?”

He flashed her a big grin. “‘Course, love.” Was that relief in his eyes?

He parked on the street in front of her house. “I’ll walk my girl to her doorstep.”

“You don’t have to. I know where it is.”

He chuckled and came around to unlock her door anyway. “Yeah, but porch-kisses are one of my ten favorite types of kisses.”

Buffy slide her hand into his and stepped out of the car. “And you’re sure you’ll be getting porch-kisses?”

“Certain.”

The front door swung open as soon as they reached the porch and a chorus of voices rang out. “Surprise!”

Stunned, Buffy scanned the crowd for a moment before looking back at Spike. “You don’t really have to work tonight.”

“On a Saturday night: Of course not.”

She shook her head and stepped in to hug Cordelia and Anya. “You guys are--”

“Did we really surprise you?” Willow came towards her with a shy smile.

“Yes!” Buffy yanked her into a quick hug. “I can’t believe you guys did all this.” She took a quick survey of the room. They’d hung yellow streamers and a cute glittery sign that said Happy Birthday. The card table was set up in the corner with pretty tablecloths, a big vase full of daisies and several trays of what smelled like her favorite Thai dishes. It was sweet, totally sweet, but after all the weirdness with Spike in the car, the relief was almost too much . She blinked back a couple tears.

“Hey, none of that. There’s no crying on your birthday.” Xander, the first friend she made in kindergarten, slung his arm over her shoulder.

She laughed. “Really?” Xander was well aware of her birthday track record.

“That’s fair. I should have said there will be no birthday crying this year. Seriously, look around, Buff. There’s no bouncy house, so there’s no way you can fall off a bouncy house and break you arm and we absolutely do not have any ponies coming.”

“So I can’t get bit again?”

“Exactly. I’ve also brought my tool kit in case we break anything and a fire extinguisher in case...well just in case.”

“Well aren’t you a boy scout? All prepared and what not.” Spike was frowning slightly and looking at Xander’s arm on her shoulders.

His jealous-look was silly, but Buffy pulled away from Xander and stepped toward her boyfriend anyway. “You two haven’t met yet. Spike this is Xander. He sat next to me on Mrs. Steven’s rug in kindergarten.”

Spike’s eyebrows inched up. “Best mates ever since?”

“Pretty much.” She glanced up at Xander and smiled. “He’s kind of like my big brother who just happens to be three months younger than me.”

Xander chuckled. “Those three months used to suck. Buffy’d be all ‘I’m eight and you’re only seven so I get to decide what movie we watch.’ ” He held out his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, man. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Spike shook Xander’s hand. “You too.” His tone wasn’t entirely convincing, but Buffy decided to let the matter lie.

Later, Buffy caught Spike in a corner alone. “I knew you were lying. It was awful.” It had her so sick to her stomach, she was still struggling to enjoy her curry.

“Tell me about it. I almost puked up brunch a half-dozen times. I’m rubbish at keeping secrets from you.”

She melted a little. “You really are.”

He nodded and the last of the tension in her stomach dropped away. She rose up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss.

********************

He wasn’t entirely sure what the birthday curse entailed, but Spike was feeling pretty good about the current festivities. His girl was glowing.

Anya’s clever thinking had set things up perfectly. She’d arranged for a little brunch double-date for Buffy and himself with herself and Gunn. She’d said it was so that Buffy would be wearing a dress and not feel under-dressed at her own party. But Spike had seen her inhale a startling amount of pastries and Eggs Benedict, so he couldn’t be certain about her motives.

Still, it had worked out well. He’d picked Buffy up at ten, giving Joyce and a few of her friends the whole day to set up. They’d met up with Anya and Gunn for a couple hours then Spike had taken her to a movie while Anya and Gunn joined the party committee. It had been almost smooth until he’d had to come up with a reason to bring her home.

That had been tough. Still, seeing her surrounded by her friends and well on beaming, made it all worthwhile. They’d ordered enough Thai food to feed an army and had a little mountain of adorably decorated cupcakes. Spicy and sweet. Just like his girl.

He dropped down on the over-stuffed, beige couch and watched Buffy and Xander play a video game that seemed to involve bouncing around and pretending to ninja-chop fruit. He was more of a Halo kind of guy, but they were clearly having a blast.

A brunette with a big smile perched on the other end of the couch. He’d met her at the barbecue, but couldn’t remember her name. He tipped his head in her direction, then turned back to watch the game.

“You’d think all the cheerleading and Tai Chi would give Buffy an advantage, but she misses way more than she hits.”

Spike chuckled. ‘I think she skips the cuter fruits--like the strawberries.”

“That sounds about right.” She gave a throaty chuckle and held out her hand. “We’ve met once before, but it was quick. I’m Cordy.”

Spike sat up and took her hand for a quick shake. “Nice to meet ya again, Cordy. Now... did you say, Tai Chi? Don’t know if I can picture that.”
“Yeah--we took a few lessons last year. That’s how I met Liam, my boyfriend, though I thought he was into Buffy at first.” She grinned. “Actually, I still think he was into Buffy at first. He was always showing her the correct way to position her arms then lingering. But I showed him the error of his ways.”

The image made his stomach tense, his hand clenched. “Was Buffy ever-- was she interested in--”

“Oh no! I mean, there’s a girl code. If she’d wanted him, I wouldn’t have made a move.”

“Right.” Spike nodded.

Cordy laughed gently. “And that’s not why you were asking.--She wasn’t interested. I’ve never seen her particularly interested in anyone before you.”

“Yeah?” The knot in his gut loosened. He was probably grinning like a fool.

“Yeah. She’s crazy about you.”

“That’s mutual.” He couldn’t help glancing over at his girl as he spoke. She grinned back and headed toward him.

“I can tell.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Buffy. She was...enchanting.

“What can you tell?” Buffy wrapped her arm around his shoulder and dropped into his lap.

He slid his arm around her waist and hugged her closer. “Havin’ fun?”

Her smile could brighten his darkest day. “I am. This is really great.”

Anya sat on the coffee table. “I suppose next year we’ll have to celebrate in Paris. Unless we can find a cheap flight home.”

What? “You plannin’ a trip, love?”

“No.” Buffy shook her head but kept her gaze on her hands. “I’m not.”

Anya’s forehead wrinkled. “Yes, you are. We’re going to study abroad. A semester in Paris during our junior year. It’s why we took three years of French in high school. We’re supposed to eat croissants and flirt with guys trying to write novels in coffee shops.”

Buffy shot him a quick glance before looking at Anya. “I’m sorry, An. We haven’t talked about it in ages. I guess I thought you’d changed your mind too.”

“Why would I change my mind? Why would you? We’ve been planning this since we were fourteen. It’s going to be amazing, Buffy.”

“I know, but--”

“But what? You have a boyfriend now so you’re going to just drop everything--change your whole life?”

“It’s not like that.”

Anya’s eyes were glossy. She bit her lip. “Isn’t it?” She shrugged. “I have to go.”

Buffy stood up. “Anya, please-I didn’t mean to--”

Anya turned to Gunn. “Can you bring me home now?”

He nodded. “Sure, yeah.” He met Spike’s eyes for a second and shrugged before following Anya toward the front door.

The rest of the party broke up pretty quickly after that.

*********************************************

“You know that I’m not going to go, right?” Buffy knelt on the couch beside Spike. He seemed upset; she wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah. Heard that. Just not sure why.”

“Why I’m not going?” Buffy laughed. “Because I changed my mind. It was something we talked about years ago...I just changed my mind.”

“Sounds like a good deal. See the world...use that French of yours.”

Buffy cupped his cheek. “Yeah, but I’d miss you like crazy.”

Her words appeared to have the opposite effect than intended. He swallowed hard and nodded without meeting her eyes. “So it’s me then. I’m why you’re not going?”

Understanding hit slowly. “No. I mean I’d miss you, of course, but that isn’t the only reason. It was just a silly thing we thought of when we were kids. It doesn’t make sense now. I’m working on a counseling degree. When my...when my father died, the school counselor, Mrs. Sharply, she was a big help. I didn’t want to let her help at first, but she kept trying and...I think that’s what I want to do too. I know it is.” She sighed. “If I go to Paris, I’d really only be taking electives-- art and history. It would fun, but I need to be here to take my psychology and childhood development courses. It’s just not practical.”

“You’re saying that, even if I wasn’t in the picture, you’d stay here? You wouldn’t go study art and flirt with French guys?”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think I’d be staying here, either way. Maybe, maybe I’d go just so that I wasn’t letting Anya down, but that isn’t a great reason.”

He didn’t respond.

“Spike?”

“Alright--just don’t want you missin’ out on something because of me.”

Buffy snuggled up against his side. “I’m not. I’m happy because of you.”

“Me too, kitten. Me too.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head.

“What’s wrong?”

Spike shrugged and turned back to the movie they were half-watching. Him being the half that watched while she watched him instead. “Nothing.”

A lie. Buffy wished she could believe this was like her birthday party, that he was was just hiding a surprise. She couldn’t. He’d been acting strangely for days. He’d been distant at first, then moody. The only time he’d really looked at her all week was in bed, and he’d actually left her at his place and gone to work early the night she’d slept over.“Please, William.”

“Prefer Spike and you know it. You can’t just make me into a different man. I told you straight up who I was.”

Whoa. Where is this coming from? “I don’t want a different man.” Were Spike’s insecurities rearing their gross little heads again? She’d thought they were past that.

He didn’t even glance at her. “Great. Let’s watch the movie then.”

“Spike!”

He sighed and turned toward her. “Do you want to watch something else?”

“No. I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me what is going on with you, with us.”

He stared at her for a moment. Emotions swirled in his eyes, but they were gone before he spoke again. “Fine,” he said flatly. “You want to do this now?”

“What?” She pushed her hands between her knees to hide their trembling.

“I think it’s pretty obvious this thing has run its course.”

“What thing? Spike, what are you---”

“Let’s not make it hard. It was fun while it lasted, no reason to ruin the memories with a bit o’ ugliness now. Right?”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t process his words. He couldn’t mean it. Surely he would explain himself any moment and she’d feel silly for thinking...no, she couldn’t even think it. No. He loved her. She knew that. She’d seen it, felt it. “You don’t mean this.”

He sighed. “Suppose this is your first break up too. Look kiddo, it happens. Doesn’t mean anything about you. You’re great. It just doesn’t always work out.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They spilled down her cheeks.

Spike stood and walked across the room. “I’m sorry, love. Honest. I never wanted to...when I said I loved you, I meant it. I loved you, and I still want...I want you to have good things, to be happy. You’re an amazing girl and I’ll always care about you, but it’s time for us both to move on.”

“I don’t think--”

“I do, Buffy. I do. And it takes two people to be in a relationship. I’m sorry.”

“Right.” Buffy stood slowly. No. Every cell in her body screamed in protest, but she walked to the door.

“Do you want a ride?”

“I have my car?”

“But if you’re too upset to drive. I could--”

“I’m not.”

“Oh. Good, that’s good. I’m glad.”

She didn’t know what to say. Buffy opened the door and glanced back at him one final time. He was unreadable...blank, but still the most beautiful person she’d ever seen. How could this be happening? What did I do wrong?

“I’ll see you around, love.”

Buffy nodded then left, stunned. She drove nearly two blocks before it all hit her, the pain and the panic and the fear. How was she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to keep...being?. I’ll never get to kiss Spike again. When was the last time we kissed? She couldn’t remember their last kiss. It was the last one and she didn’t remember it. It was too much. Her eyes couldn’t see through the tears. She pulled the car alongside the curb and wept.



****************



Spike rested his forehead against the cool porcelain of the tub’s edge. He’d done the right thing. He’d hurt the girl, but it was the right thing. It was better this way.

A fresh wave of nausea brought up whatever was left of his breakfast and he turned back to the toilet to heave.

He’d never forget the look she’d given him before leaving. She’d trusted him. She’d loved him...and he had to--he had to do it. It would be so much worse if he waited. We could have had babies. Babies that smelled sweet and had her cute little nose. How could he say goodbye to those babies, to the future they could have had? It didn’t matter. He had to do it. Nothing could be worse than her hating him for ruining her life.

He loved her. Dear god, he loved her so much. He’d never thought anyone could love someone the way he loved her. He’d never realized love like that existed until he saw it in her eyes.

He had to let her go.

It was the right thing to do.

She’d made him a better man, but he still couldn’t be the man she deserved.



********************************************************************



Spike wiped his hands against his jeans a second time before opening the front door of the gallery Joyce Summers managed. He was two steps in when he saw her.

She didn’t smile. “You know, William, sometimes it seems like you have even less experience with dating than Buffy. Generally, after a break-up, the guy avoids the girl’s mother.”

“Right. Yeah.” He nodded and turned to leave.

Joyce sighed loudly. “Come have a seat. I’m going to make some tea.”

Spike slumped in the chair in front of Joyce’s stylish little desk. What was he even doing here? She was right. This was not how things were done. He hadn’t given this enough thought. It was an impulse, in instinctual reflex or something.

She placed a mug of tea in front of him, took her seat and waited.

“How...is she alright?” He couldn’t look at her while asking, but he had to ask.

“You broke her heart, William.”

He glanced up, startled by her bluntness. Still, she looked tired more than anything else. He deserved to see her glaring. “Yeah.”

“Why are you here?”

“Just wanted to know that she’s...that she’d be okay.”

Joyce stared at him for a moment. “She’s hurting. It’ll get better in time. I--I’ve tried to stay out of my daughter’s romantic life, so I don’t know what happened between you two. Frankly, my impression is Buffy doesn’t either and you don’t exactly seem like a man who is not in love with my daughter. If you did something you regret...if--”

Spike pulled a small velvet-covered box from his pocket, opened it and placed it on the desk. “We can pretend like the age thing isn’t important. But it is, right? I do that…” He nodded toward the ring. “And I’m asking too much. Stealing away years she’s not meant to be tied down.Years she should be studying and partying and whatever girls like her do.”

“Oh William.” Her eyes were wide with shock and something that might have been pity. “You didn’t ask?”

“Nah. I mean you can’t marry a girl who’s too young to have champagne at the reception, right? ‘Cept I forgot about that for a bit. Dreamt up a nice little picture in my head.”

“I can’t pretend that I don’t think Buffy’s too young to getting married, but...that doesn’t mean you couldn’t keep dating.”

“Maybe if I wasn’t such a selfish git. But it would just be a matter of time...and not much of it-- before I got caught up in a weak moment and pulled that bauble out. Almost did already...twice.”

“I see.”

“I want it, her, too much. I love her, Joyce. I love her more than anything. I can’t hold her back. Can’t live with her hating me for it.”

“And so you broke up with her.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t seem like the best--”

“You can’t tell her.”

“I won’t, but William…” Joyce sighed. “I won’t tell her.”



*********



Buffy pulled three mixing bowls from the cabinet and placed them on the counter, before turning to rummage through the pantry. The oven beeped to indicate that it had reached 350 degrees just as she emerged. She dumped her findings, sprinkles, cake flour, brown sugar, and an extra- fancy bottle of vanilla extract, on the counter. “Kiddo,” she muttered aloud. That one really ticked her off.

For the first few weeks she’d alternated between despair and denial. She’d just hit on a good solid mad for the first time and she was going to ride the wave. She was mad at Spike. She was mad at herself. She was mad at the whole, bloody world. She was especially furious that the word “bloody” had made its way into her internal thoughts.

“It’s like he literally messed with my head.” She yanked open the fridge and started pulling out milk, butter, eggs...her hand landed on the heavy cream and she froze. Cream scones. Spike’s favorite. Pain stabbed her chest.

She left the cream on the shelf and grabbed a block of cream cheese instead. Her arms full, she closed the fridge door with a knock of her hip, and brought the things to the growing pile on the counter.

“Sweetie? What are you doing?” Joyce tugged the sides of her robe across her chest and tied the belt.

“Baking cookies.”

“It’s two in the morning, honey. Why don’t we--”

“I’m a catch, mom. I know that sounds conceited and maybe it is, but it’s true. I’m a nice person, I think about other people’s feelings, and I’m an excellent cook. I’m an excellent cook.”

Buffy’s mom nodded. “Yes. You are.”

“I’m making cookies.”

“Okay, hun.” Joyce walked over to the pantry and plucked her apron from the hook. “You know I picked up some dried cranberries yesterday. They could be amazing with--”

“Orange zest.” Buffy grabbed an orange off the top of the fruit bowl and held it up. “Cranberry-orange cookies.”

“Cream cheese frosting?” Joyce asked.

“You’re a genius. See you’re a catch too, mom. Men are idiots. How did I never notice that?” She scooped two cups of flour out of the cannister and dumped them into one of the larger bowls as she looked up at her mom.

Joyce’s eyes widened. “Am I meant to answer that?”

The fire in her gut cooled. “I don’t mean dad. I’m sorry.”

Joyce chuckled. “Buffy, your father made plenty of bone-headed choices. He wasn’t a saint. He wasn’t perfect. He was just…” She sighed. “He was just perfect for me.”

“Do you still miss him?”

“I do.” Joyce pulled out the grater and handed to Buffy.

“I do too.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“I miss Spike too. Which is dumb, right? Because I’m so mad at him. How can I still miss him?” She rubbed the orange over the grater so the bits of zest fell into the bowl with the flour.

“It’s not really an either/or situation when it comes to love.”

“I should stop loving him though, right? That’s what’s supposed to happen?” She glanced at Joyce before tapping the grater against the side of the bowl. “Sugar.” She gestured for the canister.

Joyce passed the sugar. “Love doesn’t have an on/off switch. Your feelings are what they are. Time will--”

“Help? Yeah. Cordy has said that about two dozen times. What if it doesn’t? What if I’m stuck feeling like this,” she gestured toward her stomach with the mixing cup scattering a fine spray of granulated sugar, “forever? What if I’m frozen feeling like I want to punch him in the nose and then beg him to tell what went wrong so that I can fix it?” Because not knowing why makes it so much harder. Because I’d have done anything for him. I’d have done anything to make him happy, to make him love me. I’d have done anything and he couldn’t be bothered to tell what that anything was.

“I don’t think that will happen.” Joyce held her hands up, palms out in surrender. “But if it does, we’ll buy a bakery...an all-night bakery.”

Buffy tried to hold on to her anger, it was so much better than despair, but a chuckle broke through anyway.

“You know, sweetie, I prefer to stay out of your lovelife.”

“And that’s just one of the things I love about you, mom.”

Joyce laughed softly. “But, I am going to say that you could try talking to him. It’s been a month. Meet for coffee. Maybe you can get some of the answers you’re looking for.”

“No. I can’t.” Buffy shook her head. “I really can’t see him.” Seeing what I lost, what I had and can’t have anymore...even the thought hurts too much.

The Bronze was not Spike’s favorite after-work haunt, it catered to college kids and people who wouldn’t know the difference between music and crap if it was labeled with a flashing neon sign. Yet, The Bronze was where he found himself, nursing a whiskey and foul mood.

He couldn’t go to the real bar, there were too many people he knew there, too many questions. Everyone had advice and comments. Why couldn’t anyone just let a man drink in peace? Of course, The Bronze was too far from his place to walk, so he couldn’t really drink there. All he could do was nurse a single whiskey, but at least at The Bronze, he could do it in peace.

Or he could until he saw her.

Her.

Buffy was at The Bronze. For the slightest of moments, his heart leapt. He hadn’t laid eyes on her in months. Just being in the same room was a balm on his tattered heart.

Then the panic set in. I should leave. I don’t want to bother her--don’t know what I’d say if she saw me. Is she on a date?

She was dancing with her girlfriends, Anya and the brunette...Cordelia. He took in her skimpy outfit and strappy high heels and went to battle with a wave of jealousy. He gripped the edge of the bar and reminded himself that she wasn’t his anymore. It almost worked. Spike clenched his jaw as a couple of frat-looking types worked their way in between the girls. Buffy’s head tipped back. She was laughing at something Jerk Number One said while Jerk Number Two slid up behind her. She turned and grinned at him, seemingly happy to dance between them. Spike seethed as the two guys moved in closer and Buffy didn’t appear to mind. She had her hands up over her head as she moved her hips enticingly. She said something to Jerk Two then smiled over her shoulder at Jerk One. He should leave. He shouldn’t watch this. Jerk One put his hands on her hips. Spike shot out his chair. Buffy laughed as she brushed the jerk’s hands away and continued dancing. The Jerk tried again a moment later. Slap him. Why aren’t you slapping this arsehole, Kitten? She left the guy’s hands on her hips until the song ended. If the bar wasn’t solid granite, it would have been dust between Spike’s clenched fists. He watched as Buffy said something to Jerk Two and patted Jerk One on his arm before turning to walk away. Flirting? You’re flirting with those jerks? She headed toward hallway with the restrooms. Half-way there she stumbled, but caught herself, holding her hands out to her sides to regain balance. Her heels were high, but Spike had seen her walk in higher ones. No. It was obviously more than that. Buffy was drunk. She giggled before continuing her walk. When Jerk Number One followed, Spike had no choice but to go that way too.

“I’m really just here to dance with my friends.” Buffy’s voice floated out from around the corner.

“Come on, baby. I thought we were having a good time.”

“Yeah, but I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now.” Are her words slurring?.

The jerk chuckled. “No worries. We can keep things casual.”

“I don’t--”

Spike stepped around the corner and glared at the man crowding Buffy against the wall. “The girl isn’t interested, arsehole. Move on.”

“Why don’t you let the lady decide what she’s--”

Spike grabbed the guy by his shirt and yanked him close enough to smell the cheap beer on the jerk’s breath. He spoke in slow, controlled voice. “Walk away before I introduce your ugly face to the pavement outside.” He shoved him back towards the exit and followed Buffy into the ladies room. “Buffy? You alright, love?”

She stood near the last sink, her eyes wide with surprise. “You can’t be in here.”

He inched closer. “I had to check on you.”

“No, you don’t. I’m not yours. You--you didn’t want me to be yours anymore.” She blinked hard and fast as her hand shot up to cover her mouth. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Spike placed his hand on her back and helped her into a stall. He held her hair up and rubbed her back while she emptied her stomach. “There you go. Get it out. You’ll feel better later on.”

When she was done, he guided her back to the sink and wetted a paper towel so she could wipe her face.

“That was gross.”

Spike chuckled. “I’ve seen worse.”

She stared at him for a moment. “You’re not my boyfriend anymore.”

“I know, kitten.”

“So why are you here?” She sounded exhausted.

“I’m going to take you home.”

“Ah. No.” She shook her head slowly. “I came with my friends, Spike.”

“I’m not leaving you here like this. You’ve been drinking and there are a dozen guys in this place who’d like to take advantage of that.”

Her eyebrows popped up. “You’re not the boss of me. You don’t get to say what I do.”

“I’m not leaving you here. If your friends need a ride too, I’m happy to--”

“Willow isn’t drinking, she’s driving us all back to Cordy’s house for the night. We’re not children, we know how to set up a designated driver.”

He bit back a comment on their apparent planned slumber party. “No, but you are underage and I am willing to make a scene.”

Her face paled. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”



****************



Buffy was pissed and sobering quickly. She’d let Spike lead her to his car, sent a text to Willow explaining that she’d left and spent the rest of the ride silently refusing to look at her former beloved. She frowned as they passed the grocery store. “We’re going the wrong way. You should have turned back on Wright.”

“Is your mom expecting you home tonight?”

“No.”

“I’m taking to my place. You can sober up and then we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

Spike ignored her and parked in the lot outside his place a few moments later. He came around, opened her door and offered her his hand.

Buffy stared for a few moments. She’d always liked his hands. His hands were so...capable. They’d made her feel safe and loved. The thought of touching them now made her want to cry. “I can get out on my own, she said quietly.

“Right.” Spike stepped back, waited for her to get out, and closed the door behind her. “Thanks for not vomiting in my car, by the way.”

Buffy glared and took a deep breath before following him upstairs. So he wanted to talk...now. After three and a half months of silence, Spike had decided he needed to talk. Why? She wished she wasn’t curious, that she wasn’t still wondering why he’d ended things so abruptly. It still hurt. People claimed that time helped. Apparently she needed a lot more of it. How was she going to keep it together for their “talk’?

She needed the upper hand. She went in and perched on the edge of the sofa. She rested her hands on her knees and sat up straight. “So talk.”

Spike’s eyes were round. He nodded. “Yeah. How about I make us some coffee first?”

“It was two daiquiris, Spike. I’m fine.”

His expression was skeptical. “You puked from two drinks?”

“No. I was a little tipsy after two drinks.” I threw up because I saw you. She couldn’t say it.

“Well, I need some coffee.” He popped around the island separating the kitchen from the living area and started pulling things from the cabinets. “If you want to freshen up or brush your teeth...your stuff is the drawer.”

Really? Why? She looked over at him, but he kept his back to her. She wanted to refuse the suggestion, but it would be churlish and immature to refuse something she’d very much like to do just to prevent him from being right. Sure enough, her toothbrush and a small basket of other things she’d left at Spike’s place remained in the vanity’s drawer. Buffy washed her face, brushed her teeth and ran her fingers through her hair. So weird. Being in here. Smelling the scent of Spike’s aftershave and shampoo. It was like pine and lemongrass and maybe orange. They were nice scents for a guy, masculine but not musky. They still sent a warm buzz to her stomach. Stupid stomach.

Spike smiled at her as she came back to the couch. “I assume you still take coffee with your sugar.”

Her lips twitched. No. I can’t be charmed. I have to be strong. He basically forced me to come here. He was a jerk. “ You wanted to talk, Spike. So please...just say what you have to say so I can go.”

“How have you been?”

She waited a moment. “Are you serious? You dragged me all the way here to ask me how I’ve been? Bad. Okay, Spike. I was bad and now I’m moving on. I’m--I’m moving on. Or at least I was trying to before you went all neanderthal on that guy and dragged me here.”

“Moving on.”

“Yes! Aren’t I supposed to move on? Isn’t that what big girls do when they’re dumped? Move on?”

“Not like this.”

“Not like what?”

He slammed his mug on the counter and stalked toward her.“You’re supposed to be in France, Buffy. You’re supposed to be meeting nice boys in museums. Boys with brains and bank accounts and breeding and all the rest.”

“What are talking about?”

“I didn’t give you up so you could get drunk and groped at The Bronze.”

“Give me up? What are you even talking about?”

“I did the right thing, Buffy. I didn’t hold you back. I knew you were meant for better things, so I--I let you move on. But you were supposed to go to France. You weren’t supposed to--I wanted better for you, Buffy. I wanted you to be happy.”

Her head reeled. He couldn’t be serious. This was...infuriating. He’d destroyed her. And now he was telling her that he’d done it for her?

“Fuck, Kitten. I always wanted you to be happy.” His eyes were wet. Spike was going to cry.

A part of her wanted to reach out to him, wanted to comfort him. Another part, a big part, was still too shocked to even think. “But I was happy.”

“I was going to ruin it.”

“You did.”

Spike shook his head slowly. “Worse” He walked back to the kitchen, pulled a bottle of scotch off the shelf and poured himself a generous drink. He downed it before heading into the bedroom.

Was he done? Should she leave? Buffy tugged on her skirt, trying to cover more of her thighs. She was dressed for a dark club, not a relationship post-mortem in a brightly lit room.

Spike came out and kneeled in front of her.

She ignored the flame of lust that instantly flared in her core.“How could you have made things worse?”

He laughed, despite the tears glistening in his eyes. “Like this.” He held out a black velvet box. Its lid was flipped up, revealing a shiny diamond engagement ring.

“Is that? Were you?” Her heart stopped. “William?” His given name slipped over her lips in a barely audible whisper.

“If we’d been together any longer, I’d have asked. Every day I promised myself I wouldn’t, but I wanted to. I wanted you to be mine forever.”

“So you broke up with me?” It was unthinkable.

“No. I gave you up. So you’d be free to go to France and meet fancier people and see the whole fucking world. But you’re not. You’re drinking at that skeezy club and dancing with--” He scowled and shook his head. “And I know it’s your choice what you do. You’re young. You should have time to make mistakes and be a stupid kid and I’m a git and a monster for wanting to steal that away. But I need you. Buffy, I need you.” He rested his forehead on her lap.

She ran her hands through his hair once. Twice. Three times. It was darker, more of a sandy blonde than the almost white hair he’d had when they’d been together. He hadn’t bleached it in a while. Why?

He slid closer and wrapped his arms around her calves, hugging her legs to his chest. Hot tears hit her knees. “I need you.”

She’d thought knowing why would help. It didn’t. How could he claim to love her, to want to spend his life with her and dismiss her as a child in the same breath?

“I told you I didn’t want to go to France, that I wanted to work toward my degree. I told you that I didn’t want any other man.” A tear fell over her eyelid and down her cheek as she lifted Spike’s head to see his face. “I had everything I wanted. Why couldn’t you just believe me?”

He shrugged half-heartedly. “I was an idiot, kitten. I was an idiot.”

“Yeah, Maybe. You certainly thought I was one.”

His eyes widened. “No! No. I thought you were too good for me. You’re brilliant. I’ve never not seen that.”

“I’m brilliant, but not clever or mature enough to make my own decisions.”

“Buffy, love, please--”

“No. You decided that I didn’t know what was best for me, that I couldn’t because I’m just a dumb little girl.” Her heart was breaking all over again.

“No. It was never about you not being perfect. It was about me. I couldn’t believe that I was enough.” He buried his face in her lap again.

Buffy leaned over and pressed a kiss against the back of Spike’s head. God, she loved him. Still. He’d broken her heart...again, but somehow that didn’t make her heart any less his. She finally understood what people meant when they said love wasn’t enough. “It doesn’t make sense. You can’t think that I’m perfect but not respect my choices, Spike. That can’t...that doesn’t work.”

She stroked his neck, rested her cheek on his head and let him cry and make sweet promises. He’d broken his own heart too. She couldn’t deny her urge to comfort him. She kissed his temple. “Shh. I’m honestly I’m too tired to talk anymore.”

He looked up. “You can sleep here. Take my bed. I’ll stay on the couch.”

“I don’t...I don’t want to be in your bed.” Too many memories.

He winced as though she’d smacked him. “Right. Right.”

He’d misunderstood, but she wasn’t sure it mattered. “I’m happy on the couch. Just find me a blanket, okay. I’m freezing.”

Spike laughed hoarsely. “Yeah. That get up isn’t big in the fabric department.”

She raised her eyebrow. “You really think this line of commentary is a good idea right now?”

“I’ll..uh...I’ll just fetch you a blanket.”

Buffy took a couple of deep breaths and wiped her cheeks. Maybe in the morning, maybe after a little sleep, she’d be able to handle this. Maybe she’d be able to think clearly and see through the cloud of pain and regret.

Spike returned with a blanket and a pillow. He placed them on the arm of the couch and held up a pale blue button-down shirt. “This is...well, in case you wanted something to sleep in.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll just leave it here.”

Buffy nodded.

“Did you need anything else, kitten?”

Did she need anything? Yes. God yes. A thousand things swept through her mind. She needed him. She needed him to take away the pain, to give her back the piece of her heart he still carried. She needed him to believe in her, to believe in himself, and to believe in their future together. “No. I’m just really tired.”

“We’ll talk more in the morning.” He leaned in as though to kiss her, but straightened up without doing so. “If you need anything, just…” Spike gestured toward his room and stared at her for a few seconds before leaving. He turned on the lamp near the couch and flipped the overhead lights off as he went.

Quietly, just before he closed the bedroom door, he said the best and worst thing. “I love you.”



*********************************

Spike lay awake for a long time, but he was sleeping when she came into his bedroom. He woke as she climbed into his bed.

“Kitten?” He reached for her, half-certain he was only dreaming. “What are you--”

She pressed two fingers to his lips and straddled his thighs. The neon light from the pool hall across the street cut the darkness with a faint red glow. Her shape was clear, but her expression was still a mystery. Had she forgiven him? Was she back? Is she mine again? She pulled her shirt, his shirt that she was wearing, off over her head and leaned in to kiss away his gasp.

Yes. Oh yes. Spike wrapped one arm around her waist and clutched the back of her head with his other, hugging her closer and reveling in the feel of her warm body against his. The scent of her shampoo, something tropical and sweet like coconut or papaya, tickled his nose and made him hard. God, Buffy. He didn’t have the words to explain how much he’d missed her, but this...this he could do. He could show her the heat between them, the connection they’d felt from the start, was still there. He tried to roll to the side, eager to lay her on her back and kiss his way from the tops of her ears to the tips of her toes, but she stopped him.

“No,” she whispered. Buffy guided his arms up and placed his hands on the pillow above his head. “I’m doing this.”

She kissed him fiercely then stroked his cheek. Her hands slid down his chest. Spike groaned. No touching her? He needed his hands on her. He needed to feel her smooth skin beneath his fingertips to believe this was real. How could he worship her without his hands?

Fuck. Her mouth was hot and soft on his neck. So hot. Her teeth tugged his nipple then her tongue soothed the small ache.

“Kitten, love, I need to touch you.”

She covered his mouth with her own as her hand slipped beneath his shorts to free his erection and drag her hand up and down his shaft. Spike couldn’t bite back his moan. She used to be shy about touching him, almost too gentle. She wasn’t anymore. Buffy grasped his cock like she owned the damned thing. Of course she did. He’d give her everything if she’d agree to be his forever.

“Condom”

It was an order. Spike pulled open the drawer on the bedside table and felt around for a foil square. Oh god, please. He exhaled audibly when he found one. It had been months since he’d even thought about needing a condom.

Buffy plucked it from his hand as he removed it from the drawer. She tightened her knees against his hips to steady herself while she opened it.

Spike ghosted his palms up her sides and cupped her breasts while she was distracted. She arched, pressing herself more fully into his hands, as she trembled.

“With your mouth.” She slid up his body and leaned in, bringing her breasts to his lips.

Her hand cupped his cheek while he teased and licked one hard peak then the other. “Mmmm...so sweet, my kitten.”

She pulled away, dropping a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth before sitting up.

Clearly his kitten was set on running things. And quickly. He’d rather be taking his time reacquainting himself with every inch of her sexy, little body. He’d rather be tasting her pleasure while she writhed and shuddered beneath his tongue. He’d rather be in charge, but he’d wait. He wouldn’t do anything to scare her away. He couldn’t face another night without her. Not now, not after having her in his arms again. He wasn’t a brave enough man to face the world without her again.

She caressed his cock for a moment before sliding on the condom. Spike let his head fall back and closed his eyes as frustration flooded every cell of his body. His breath hitched as she sank down, enveloping him in her heat. Relief, the sensation of being home, it was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. He gripped her hips tightly and pushed up, connecting their bodies as fully as he could. Fuck. Hold it together. It was almost too good. “Fuck. Kitten, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.”

She rubbed her cheek against his. “I’m here now.”

Her hands settled on his, their fingers intertwining before she started moving.

She found a slow, steady rhythm, but it had been so long. The heat surrounding him, the joy at being with her again, was too good. Too perfect. “I won’t last. Missed you too much. Every day..every minute. God... I love you, Buffy.”

Spike woke and reached for his girl. Nothing. He frowned as his eyes adjusted to the bright daylight filling the room. “Buffy?” He’d fallen asleep with her in his arms and expected to wake up the same way. They had a lot of lost time to make up for.

“ Buffy?” He sat up and listened for sounds in the bathroom. Nothing. “Love?” A glance at the clock told him it was past eleven. Maybe she’d had something planned. But why hadn’t she woken him up for a ride?

Stomach dropping, he stalked out to the front of his flat. A note. Surely there would be a note explaining that she hadn’t wanted to wake him.

No note.

His eyes settled on the key resting on the counter. Buffy had left her key. She’d still had her key to his place, had apparently been carrying it for all these months, but she’d left it behind this morning. Fuck! Spike dashed into the bathroom and yanked open the drawer where he’d kept her stuff. Gone. It was all gone. She’d left her key and taken her fancy lotion and face stuff with her.

She’d left him.

No. She’d come to him last night. She’d initiated.

The realization came hard and without warning. She was saying goodbye. Last night had been her way of saying goodbye.

***************************************************

The sound of her bedroom door opening made Buffy sit up. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and glared toward her unwanted visitor. “Please go away, Mom.”

“Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want to talk about whatever ha--”

Joyce was cut off by the sound of someone banging on the door.

Buffy froze.

“Are you expecting--”

“It’s Spike. Please tell him I don’t….I’m not home or...I can’t...I’m not talking to him.”

Joyce frowned. “Okay, hun. But--”

“He broke up with me for my own good. That’s what he said. It was for me.” The gall, the stupid awful...argh. Buffy pulled a pillow to her face and groaned into it.

There was more door banging.

Joyce was still frowning, but she nodded. “Okay.”

She left then and a few seconds later Buffy could hear the muffled sound of voices. She couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but she could guess easily enough.

Buffy heard the door click shut and exhaled in relief. She couldn’t see him now. Not yet. She had to be stronger first.

Her mother returned a few moments later. “William would very much like to speak with you. I suggested he try back tomorrow.”

Buffy shook her head. “No.”

“Buffy.” Joyce sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”

Sniffling, Buffy shrugged. “I ran into Spike last night.” She reached for her mother as the first body-shaking sob tore through her.

Joyce hugged her tightly. “I see. I’m getting the feeling that did not go well.”

“He said he loves me, that he always loved me, that he broke up with me because he loves me.” She pulled back to see her mother’s face. “How stupid is that?”

“It is certainly not a typical reason.”

“Some guy was talking to me and Spike was there and he got all weird about it and demanded I talk with him. Then he’s telling me he needs me and ...oh and I’m supposed to be in France. He’s...I think he’s mad that I’m not in France, which is also stupid.”

“So William would like for you two to try again?”

“Yeah, but only because he thinks I’m screwing up my life on my own. He thinks I should be dating fancy men in France and since I decided to dance with normal guys at The Bronze instead--”

“You were at a club? How did you even get into a club?”

“That’s not the point. The point is he still doesn’t trust me to make my own choices. How can he claim to love me when he thinks that I’m some...dumb little girl?”

Joyce pulled her back into an embrace. “Oh honey, I’m sure he doesn’t think that.”

“If he didn’t think that, he would have believed me when I told him that I didn’t want anyone else.”

“I’m not sure it’s as simple as that.”

“It is. It has to be.”

******************************************************



“I’m sorry, William. Buffy has made it very clear that she is not interested in talking to you.”

His chest hurt. What would happen if he had a heart attack right here on the porch? “Please, Joyce. I think if I could just explain. If I--”

She gave him a little smile, reached over, and squeezed his shoulder. “Try giving her a little time.”

Spike exhaled slowly. He could do that. He could let her cool off and then he could come back and beg...on his knees. “Right. Right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I was thinking more like a week.”

A week! No. He’d already let them both hurt for far too long. He couldn’t fix that by doing nothing. “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Joyce’s lips twitched. “Then I suppose I will see you tomorrow.”

“You’ll give her these flowers?” He held out a bouquet of dark purple flowers.

She nodded as she took them from his shaky hands.“I’ll try.”

“Thank you, Joyce. I---I’m sorry.”



********************************************************



“Well Buffy, it would seem that William has moved on from flowers. Since we’ve run out of empty vases, I’d say he has good timing. He left this for you.” Joyce placed a red box with a pink ribbon on the top on the kitchen counter.”

Buffy winced. “I’m sorry you have to keep telling him I won’t talk to him. I’m sure he’ll stop--”

“Actually, he didn’t ask to talk with you today.”

“He didn’t want to talk to me?”

“He didn’t ask.”

“Oh.” The pain in her chest was just surprise. Right? She couldn’t even convince herself.

“He just left the gift.”

“Oh. Well, that’s ...good. I’m glad he’s not bothering you as much.”

“William doesn’t bother me.”

“But he--”

Joyce held her hands up, palms out in surrender. “I’m not saying that what he did was okay, I’m just saying he isn’t a bad man and he is, clearly, still in love with you. I...feel for him.”

Was it still in love with her? Maybe. Probably. Yes. Buffy wasn’t sure it mattered.

“Well, I for one am curious. Will you open it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I doubt he’s giving you anything that bites, Buffy. Take a look.”

It would hurt. No matter what was in the box, seeing it was going to hurt. If it was silly or careless, it would hurt to know he’d thought of it for her. If it was perfect, sweet and romantic, she’d only miss him more. There was no winning. Buffy braced herself and lifted the lid. Brow furrowed, she lifted out an old walkman-style tape player. “Umm?”

“It plays cassettes.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I know what it is, Mom. I don’t know why he’d…” She flipped it open and looked at the tape inside. “It’s a mixtape. He made me a mixtape.” She ran her fingertip over the handwritten title, Songs for the Girl with the Smile Like Sunshine.

“That’s...sweet?”

It was more than sweet. It was heartbreaking. “I told him once that it was what guys did. Girls bake cookies to win guys over and guys make mixtapes to...win girls over. I was just being silly. It was before we were even together really.”

He’d been listening. He remembered that silly comment from before they’d ever even dated.

“I think you should give it listen. Maybe hear him out too.”

“What could he possibly say?”

“I don’t know, hun. Maybe he can’t change your mind. That’s fine. That’s up to you two. I just think that, if you talk to him, you’d have a chance for closure. Then you can move on. Start actually dating other people.”

Buffy’s eyes stung with the tears she was trying to hold back. “I don’t want to date anyone else.”

Joyce chuckled gently as she wrapped her arm around Buffy’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “Maybe that’s something to think about too.”

“You think I’m wrong. That I’m over-reacting.”

“No. I think it’s complicated. You have to decide if what he did is forgivable.”

“Not trusting me? ”

“Not trusting himself. You do see that, sweetie. Right? The boy has some baggage. Most of us do.”



*****************************************************



The third song was Van Morrison’s Crazy Love. It was the song that played the first time they made love. Her first time.

Should it remind her of precious he’d made her feel, of how safe and loved and sexy she had felt in his arms that night? Or should all of that just drive home how much he’d hurt her by betraying the trust she’d had in him when he’d left her with no explanation at all?

Ughh! She was mad and sad and...vaguely turned on. Buffy bounced off her bed, slid on a pair of flip flops and snatched up her purse. Fine. She’d go and hear him out...or maybe just chew him out. Whichever, it was time it happened.



****************************************************



“Buffy?” Spike stood in his front door and stared at her. “You’re here.”

“I’m mad at you.”

He nodded and stepped back. “Yeah. I know. You coming in?”

“No.” She moved into the living room despite her response. “I am so, so mad at you. Every time I think about it, you, I can’t even see. It’s like a cloud of ugly anger fills my whole world.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate feeling like this.”

“I was an idiot. I am an idiot. I never deserved you, but I--”

“No! That’s the problem. You’re amazing and you’re an idiot for not seeing that. And you’re an idiot for treating me like an idiot. I didn’t want to go to France. If I’d wanted to go, I’d have gone. It would have been a rough few months, but we’d have survived. I didn’t want to go. You ruined us over a semester in France that I didn’t even want to take.”

Well, she was talking to him. That was something. He sat down, hoping she’d follow, and spoke in a quiet voice. “France was just a part of it. It was just the first in what I was sure was a lifetime of things and opportunities that you’d miss because of me. Because I’d wanted you to settle down too quickly. If I held you back, you’d hate me or maybe just I’d hate myself.”

She sighed as she sat down beside him. “I wouldn’t have married you.”

Pain he’d never expected stopped his heart.

“I mean not right away. I want to finish school first. I...would have wanted to wait until next year at least.”

“Right. Right. I--”

“You should have trusted me.”

“I know.”

“Why couldn’t you?” She’d lost the steam she’d come in with. Now she just seemed tired.

“I just couldn’t see past my own shit, Buffy. I was so sure, and I loved you. I thought…”

“You thought you were doing the right thing.”

“I did.”

“You were wrong.”

“I--”

“But I can try to understand--your heart was in the right place.”

“You can?” The little flame of hope in his gut did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest.

“I can.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“I don’t know. We still...you can’t think of me as this doll that needs to be protected all the time.”

“I can work on that.”

“Really?” She sounded skeptical.

“I can tell you right now that I’m pretty damn pissed with you too, kitten.”

“The France thing?”

“No. The fucking me and disappearing thing. Finding your key like that…” He shook his head. “That was cold, love. We were supposed to talk in the morning.”

Her cheeks reddened slightly. “I needed to be strong and didn’t think I could do that if I was looking at you.”

Spike couldn’t help it. He grinned. “Want me bad still, huh?”

“Ha ha.” She leaned closer and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Seeing you the other night. I was hurt and angry, but I still just wanted to make you feel better. Seeing you hurting was...unbearable.”

She still loves me. She must still love me. The ache in his chest eased ever so slightly. He couldn’t get his hopes up, but...that had to mean something. “I get that. I mean just the thought of you hurting you had me crazy.”

“I’ve thought a lot about what went wrong with us, since the other night and before.”

“Me, kitten. I screwed up. I know.”.

“No.” She laughed softly. “I mean yes. Big time. But not just you. You rescued me, that night with Rick. You swooped in like some sexy motorcycle-riding knight and you saved me. And I think maybe we both let that be too big a part of our relationship afterward. I was a little intimidated by you or maybe overwhelmed is a better word. The thing is I let you be the boss of us in a lot of ways. You thinking that it was your job to make decisions for both of us...that’s a little bit my fault too. You were more experienced and--fine, older--and there were things that it made sense to let you take the lead on, but it shouldn’t have been everything. I--we should have been more equal.”

“More equal sounds about right. Hard, though. I look at you and I still see…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“A little girl,” she offered.

“A goddess.”

She snorted. “That’s better I guess, but still way too hard to live up to.”

He fought back his instinct to argue and tell her that she was perfection, to vow to worship her on his knees if she’d just love him again. Carefully, half-certain she’d pull away, Spike covered her hand with his own.

She flipped her hand so their palms met and their fingers intertwined.

Spike stared at their hands for a while. God, she had such pretty hands. Time to put it all on the table. He couldn’t look at her while he asked. He could barely get the words out. “Do you still love me?”

“I do.” Her response came without hesitation, firmly and simply.

Spike exhaled a quick puff of the air he’d been holding in. Relief was a physical thing, every muscle relaxed as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on his hands, her hand still snugly enveloped within his. “Oh, kitten. That is good to hear.”

“You had to know.”

“You didn’t say. Not once while we--you never said it.”

“I couldn’t see a path forward.”

He lifted his head and turned toward her, almost too nervous to ask. “And now?”

And now? Could she see a future for them? Buffy squeezed his hand and met his eyes. So blue. A stormy ocean. His jaw tightened. He was scared to hear her response. She could relate...she was scared to say it. “I want to fight for us, even if the thing I have to fight is you.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded and grinned as he pulled her onto his lap. “Yeah.” She turned to face him, one knee on either side of his thighs and brought her hands to the sides of his face. “But you have to fight too. You have to fight whatever it is that makes you think you’re not enough. You’re...you’re what I want, Spike. So get your shit together.”

“My shit? You swear now?”

He was teasing, but she could see the wetness in his eyes he was struggling to hold back. She smiled. “It’s been a dark few months. I’m at least thirty percent less peppy.”

He frowned and rubbed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Sorry isn’t enough, but I don’t know what else to say, love.”

“I know. I wasn’t trying to beat you up. I think we’ve both had enough of that. If we’re going to have a fresh start, as equals, then I can’t hold a grudge. I can’t keep pointing out that you were an idiot.”

“That gonna be hard for you, kitten?”

“Probably.”

His fingers slipped up her neck and into her hair and rubbed the base of her skull. “Anything I can do to make it easier?”

“Doubtful.” She leaned in to kiss him but stopped halfway there. “Oh! No more lizard brain, caveman nonsense just because I talk to someone with a Y chromosome. You have to trust me.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“I know, love, and I do trust you. I’ll be good--promise. I’m not gonna screw this up again.”

“Good.” She pressed her lips to his for a light kiss. “Because good boys get treats.”

He tugged her closer. “Treats you say. Care to be more specific?”

And just like that, warmth filled her stomach. What he’d said wasn’t even actually dirty, but something in his tone had her heart racing. Would it ever stop amazing her? With just a glance, he could make her tremble. She shook her head slowly from side to side. “Nope.” She popped the ‘p’. “ You’ll just have to be good to find out.”

He groaned. “Give me a hint. We talkin’ cookies?”

Buffy giggled and pinched his side. “I should be. You’re looking kind of skinny.”

“Oi!”

She laughed a bit more before leaning in to whisper near his ear. “Can we be done with the talking now?”

“Got other plans for my tongue, kitten?”

“Just make love to me, William.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “That I can do. But no rushing things like last time. This time, we do things my way.” He slid his hands under her ass and lifted her as he stood up.

Buffy squeaked, wrapped her legs around his waist and looped her arms over his head. “Your way?”

“Mmm Hmm.” He placed her on the bed and toed off his shoes. “My way. Nice and slow-like.” He started back toward the bed.

Buffy held up her hand, palm out, like she was about to sing a classic Supremes song. “Take your shirt off.”

Spike shook his head but complied. “Bossy girl.”

“Not bossy. Leadership skills.” He did look thinner, but his bare stomach and chest still made her mouth go dry. She bit her lip. Oh yeah, definitely lickable. As she clutched a bedsheet and watched him crawl up the bed, a sound an awful lot like a whimper slipped over her lips.

He settled one knee between hers and held himself up on his elbows.

Buffy let her head fall back on the pillow.“You’re gorgeous.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “You’re mine.” His mouth covered hers for a fierce kiss and he groaned as his tongue slipped over her lips.

The deep rumble sent a wave of desire to her core. God, he made her so needy. She ran her hands down his back, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and tugged him closer. “I need you inside me.”

The blacks of his eyes grew big and he gave her a single nod before he kissed her again, hard. Spike brushed his lips over her cheek and rubbed his nose against her temple. “Have to get reacquainted first. Plan to kiss my way up and down your sexy little body a good few times.” His teeth tugged on her earlobe. “I want you lay back and let me take care of you.”

She was going to argue, but something in his eyes made it clear he needed this. Buffy sighed and lifted her arms up to tuck her hands beneath her head on the pillow. “Fine. Do your painfully slow ravishing thing.”

He grinned. “Worshipping more like.”

His thumbs brushed the sensitive skin on her abdomen as he pulled her shirt up. She gasped as they moved over her breasts, sending little shivers of pleasure to her core.

“Knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”

“I wasn’t really planning on leaving the house.”

“I’m glad you did.”

She sat up just enough so that he could tug her shirt over her head. “Me too.”

God! Even his gaze felt hot as it slid across her breasts. She fought off her need to grab him and take over. She’d never have expected the man on the motorcycle that night harbored such a gentle side, that he craved moments like this. She’d been silly. This was what he’d never had before. For all of Spike’s experience, he’d been just as new to real intimacy as she’d been. Buffy felt that intimacy, that trust, and connection, no matter the pace of their lovemaking. It had only slowly occurred to her that it was different for him. Oh certainly everything they shared was grounded in love, but he felt it more, or maybe just thought he was giving it more, during the foreplay than he did the finale.

With the pad on his thumb, Spike traced the edge of her cheekbone and down her jaw, then brushed her hair away from her neck. “Love your hair...and your neck and your shoulder. Sexy little shoulder.” He rubbed his lips along her collarbone. “And here.”

Of course, he skipped over her breasts entirely and kissed her hip instead. She groaned in frustration. “You definitely missed a spot.”

Smirking, Spike pulled her shorts down her legs, tossed them on the floor, and kissed the inside of her knee. “I have a question, love.”

She pushed her elbows into the mattress and lifted her shoulders so she could see him.

He stroked her thigh and ran his fingertip along the edge of her underwear. He was biting his lip and not meeting her eyes.

She took a guess. “There wasn’t anyone while we were--there’s never been anyone else.”

He looked up with wide eyes and he swallowed before pressing his lips to her stomach. He turned and rested his cheek on the same spot. “That’s not--I wouldn’t have asked you ‘bout that. Ever. I know it’s not my place.”

“Then I won’t ask you.”

He chuckled. “I haven’t even thought about another girl since the day you marched into the garage with those damn cookies. There was no one else.”

She let out the breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding in. “I’m glad.”

“Me too, kitten.”

“So what was the question?”

He lifted his head and met her gaze straight on. “Earlier you said--you said wouldn’t have married me.”

“I said I wouldn’t have married you yet. I’ll marry you someday.”

“That so?”

“Yup. Assuming you don’t dump me for my own good and you get the jealousy thing under control.”

He hooked his thumbs under the side of her underwear and coaxed them off her hips and down her thighs. “You wearing my ring might help with the jealous thing.”

She laughed softly. “Engagement rings are weird.”

His right eyebrow shot up.

“I mean they’re a little like a tag a guy puts on you to claim you as his and let other guys know that you’re taken. Guys don’t wear anything to show that they're engaged.” She shrugged. “On the other hand...sparkly.”

“You do like sparkly.”

“I do.”

“What if I’m tagged too. Could get a tattoo.”

She giggled. “Property of Buffy Summers?”

“If you insist.”

Buffy pretended to give the idea serious consideration, though she was rather fond of his skin as it was. “Hmm...where would we put it?”

He reached up, took her hand and brought it to his chest. He placed her palm against him and covered her hand with his own. “I’d put your name here.”

“Over your heart.”

He nodded.

Her breath caught in her throat. She bit her lip and blinked hard. “That’s…”

“Everyone who sees it will know that every time my heart beats it’s for you.”

Buffy pulled his mouth to hers and poured herself into a kiss. Every feeling, every moment she’d missed him, she gave it all to the kiss. The last bit of reserve, the wall she couldn’t help but try to keep up to avoid being hurt again, fell away. She had no choice. With him, she’d always be all in. “I love you, William.”



Later, much later, Buffy rolled onto her side and put her hand on his chest. “I don’t actually want you to get a tattoo. I like your chest just as it is and I don’t need to permanently mark your body to know that you’re mine...although it was a very romantic thought.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and he stroked her hair. “Should I return the ring then?”

Buffy laughed. “No. I like sparkly things.”

“So you’ll wear it?”

“I will. Later. Once you’ve actually proposed.”

He chuckled. The deep sound vibrated through his chest and tickled her cheek.

“Don’t do it when we’re fighting or when we’re naked.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Any other conditions?”

“No.” She lifted her head to see him. “I mean don’t over do it either. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“You’d prefer an imperfect proposal. Got it.”

She smacked his shoulder. “Wise ass.”

“You love that about me”

“Maybe.”

He flipped them both and pinned her to the bed. “Just maybe?” He gave her a faux-menacing glare. “Might need to tickle the truth out of you.”

“Don’t you dare!”

He grinned mischievously and reached for her ankle.

“I mean it, Spike. One finger touches the bottom of my foot and I’ll--”

“Sorry kitten, you’ve always known that I’m a bad--”

Buffy wriggled free and dashed out of the room.

Laughing, Spike chased her into the kitchen. He held his hands up, palms out in surrender. “Okay kitten, you win.”

She grabbed a spatula from his dish drainer. “Stay back, mister. I can use this for more than baking cookies.”

He faked right then darted around the kitchen island and caught her wrist. “ Uh uh uh. This flapjack’s not ready to be flipped.”

Buffy dissolved into giggles. “What does that even mean?”

“Haven’t the faintest, love. Sometimes my mouth opens and words just spill out. When you’re around, my blood doesn’t exactly rush in the direction of my brain”

She sighed, but with amusement more than anything else. “Any chance I’ll find anything edible in that fridge of yours.”

“Absolutely none. Let’s order something we can eat in bed.” He took the spatula from her hand and laid it on the counter.

“Fine, but tomorrow we’re getting groceries.”

He shook his head as though he was very disappointed, but she could see the glint of amusement in his eyes. “Always trying to fatten me up.”

“I can’t help it. It’s how Summers women show love. It’s like genetic.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’ve got you to help me burn off all the calories.”

Buffy grinned. “If we order a pizza right now we’ll probably have like forty-five minutes to...burn calories before the delivery guy gets here.”

“Anyone ever mentioned that you’re brilliant, kitten?”

She looped her arms around his neck. “You have. I mean not lately...but--”

He kissed her. “How ‘bout I promise to tell you every day for the next...oh, say... the rest of our lives? How’s that sound, love?”

“I could probably handle that.” Buffy returned his kiss and giggled as he scooped her up and started back toward the bedroom. She had a feeling it would be awhile before they ordered that pizza.