Buffy was thrilled with her present. It was a thing of cuteness and beauty that cast all other presents into the shadow of its wonderfulness.
She'd picked it out herself.
It was French Green with pink and yellow flowers and upon getting it Buffy had immediately wanted to go back to the beach and try it out. Everyone else, not possessing Slayer-stamina demanded lunch unanimously.
Buffy pouted a bit but her stomach growled loudly and the car dissolved into laughter.
She grinned over at Spike on the way to Fatburger, but her face fell. She had forgotten all about getting him his 'Happy No Killing People For Another Six Months' day. At this rate, he'd be at the two-year mark before she even thought of one.
Her enthusiasm returned when they were ordering and Spike watched her with amusement as she packed away a Double King Cheese and Onion Rings and suck up a Chocolate Shake with gusto.
Buffy begged and pleaded to go back to the beach after they dropped off Willow, Tara, Xander and Anya, and Spike caved. Now she had him all to herself.
Buffy had to consciously remind herself of Tara's 'Take it Slow' request when she had a half-naked, very wet Spike at her mercy. Talking about surfing filled the time in nicely and Spike was a good teacher.
When they were showering off for the second time, Buffy mentioned her patrol that night and Spike offered his services.
Buffy froze. She was under no misconceptions about the meaning of what he was giving to her. Slaying would mean largely that he was going out and killing his own kind for her sake. It was at least three steps beyond not killing people anymore in the spectrum of good doing. Buffy had had a good opportunity over the last few days to start seeing things from Spike's perspective, and helping her slay was sort of like her helping him feed. You know, in Bizarro World.
She accepted after only a moment hesitation, she was taking it slow. He was the one making the big steps. She would have to be sure Tara knew that.
Her insides were bouncing excitedly, though, at the prospect of having him to herself all night and seeing him fight again. She realized now that his fighting ability had always been part of her attraction to him. He matched her like no one else.
* * *
Buffy was in charge, that was clear from his manner that night. Which was fine. Buffy liked being in charge.
She boldly led the way, completely in her element. Restfield Cemetery came first and three fledglings later they moved on to Wakewood. Spike hadn't actually had to do anything yet. All three had been laughably easy slays.
Wakewood was another story. Buffy felt the pulse of the fight thrum in her veins and all her senses were on fire. A big group of vamps had taken up resident in a caretaker's shed and Buffy was suddenly glad to have Spike along.
They fought like a finely honed team. They fought like their entire beings had been molded for the other in battle. The dust flew as quickly as the blows landed and Buffy felt a rush she hadn't experienced in forever.
The graveyard was blanketed in silence and Buffy realized it was over. She was sweaty and slightly out of breath and Spike was at her side, still at the ready.
They both let out deep breaths, saying that had been a heady experience would be like saying the sun was hot.
Speaking of hot, Buffy wiped the sweat from the back of her neck. She was suddenly very aware of Spike. Not just his casual attractiveness and funky coat but the texture of his skin and that salty clean musk that he had now since he'd mostly given up smoking. She was aware of how much space there was between them, which wasn't much at all, and she could hear the creak of leather that his boots and coat made when he shifted in place.
She fought the urge to press her forehead up to his like he had that morning. She bet his cool skin would feel fantastic on her overheated flesh.
Spike cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Buffy's eyes immediately settled on his crotch. Aha! He was not immune to the rush of battle. It comforted her to know he was suffering from the same affliction.
Tara's words echoed in her head and Buffy could have screamed in frustration. She fought an urge to stomp her foot childishly and wail, 'But I want it! I want it!'
It seemed Tara was truly certain, though, because the voice in her mind got a little louder, 'Take it SLOWLY, he's still reeling from yesterday and you both should just take some time.'
Buffy bowed down to the wisdom of the voices in her head and suggested they move on.
* * *
On the way home, Spike noticed the late show at the theater started in ten minutes, he wanted to go and Buffy went along quite willingly.
Spike bought the tickets and an obscene amount of junk food and got them settled in the dead center of a middle row. Buffy remembered the last time she had went to a movie with a boy. Er, vampire anyway. Angel.
It had been awkward and the movie was one of those subtitled art's films that Buffy couldn't follow for the life of her.
In short, it was nothing like this and Buffy felt horrible for even comparing them. Spike deserved better than that. She took and handful of popcorn and three Milkduds and popped them into her mouth and once. She giggled and listened to Spike make fun of each and every trailer, but he was quiet when the movie started.
Buffy hadn't paid much attention to what movie was on the placard out front but she found herself drawn into it completely.
It was called Ghostworld and Buffy had never heard of it. But it was unique and quirky and about leaving high school and Buffy found herself loving it.
She reached over about twenty minutes in and took Spike's hand, she saw him smile over at her in the dark and they returned to the movie on screen.
She couldn't stop talking about it when they were walking out, how understated yet profound it felt and how eerie the town's atmosphere was, sort of like the Hellmouth and Spike was just amused at her observations.
“It's based on a comic, you know. I have it if you want to read it.” He suggested a bit shyly.
“I love to! Can we go get it now?” Buffy practically bounced on the sidewalk.
Spike laugh and that started her off, when Buffy finally caught her breath she asked, “What is so funny?”
“Nothing. Everything. Everything is just funny.” Spike choked, trying to hold in giddy laughter. Buffy could sympathize. She felt like she had just opened her eyes that night. Like she was experiencing feelings that she'd never felt before. She wondered if it was the same for him.
When they got to the house, Spike dashed upstairs to get the graphic novel and while he was up there he ran his fingers softly over his Sandman collection. He had all twelve written by Neil Gaiman, and the two Death books for that matter. They were some of his most prized possessions of the last decade. He stared at them thoughtfully. What if she didn't like them?
He shook his head and gathered them all up too.
He walked her home, helping her carry the books and explaining a little back story about the Sandman and such and she looked intrigued. She said she'd always left the comic books to Xander but she wanted to try these because he liked them so much.
Spike would have flushed in pleasure, if he'd had enough blood in his system to do so, “Xander reads super hero comics. They're all right, but these are works of art.”
Buffy promised to take good care of them and impulsively gave him a kiss on the cheek as she said goodbye.
Spike nearly skipped home.
And then promptly stopped. It was one thing to help out the Slayer, another to compromise his reputation completely.
* * *
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