One Good Lay | Getting Pumped by Kaz

Getting Pumped
Parts 1-3

Written by: Kaz
Author's Website

Summary: Buffy and Spike meet at a gas station and they decide to spend the evening together.
Disclaimer: The show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of it's characters belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, & Fox Prod.
Feedback: kazzzrn@cs.com

Chapter 1

Rise and soar on wings
of renewed spirit.
What looked familiar before
will seem strange,
what seemed strange, familiar.

"Jeez! Why do I always get the slowest pump???"

The beautiful young woman glared ferociously at the offending gas pump, as if the sheer force of her frustration could encourage the unfriendly pump to "hurry up and get on with it!"

"It never fails! Give me a million gas stations and a couple of zillion gas pumps and I'll still go straight to the slowest pump in the universe!" said the woman under her breath as the gas pump continued to plod along unhurriedly, totally impervious to the desires of it's current patron. After all, a gas pump as slow as this one was had already heard every curse in the book and received a few swift kicks into the bargain. This measly woman, muttering under her breath, was certainly nothing to concern itself with. Ever so slowly, one number was replaced with the next as gas trickled into the gas tank.

With a final glare at the pump, the woman uttered a sighed of acceptance. Twisting her shoulder, she reached across to the hand holding the gas nozzle and pushed down her black lace evening glove so that she could get a glance at her watch. It was worse than she expected. At the rate this pump was going, she was going to be over an hour late to her mother's "occasion of the year, you simply must be there" event. Her mum was going to kill her, no doubt about it.

"Shoulda, coulda, ought to have got it earlier" she told herself for at least the tenth time since beginning this ordeal.

"Problems Cutie?" drawled an unmistakable voice from behind her.

The woman froze and her shoulders and spine stiffened instinctively. For a brief moment her brain struggled to present an alternative diagnosis to the identity of that voice, but it was a useless struggle. That voice was one of a kind.

The woman managed to get a grip on herself, and pointedly refused to turn around and face "that voice." Briefly she glanced round the gas station. It was packed with the end of the rush hour traffic and heaving with people. It was obvious that "the voice" would not "start anything" here. Consciously, she relaxed her posture and returned her attention to the dials on the pump. $2.73 and counting (slowly) the pump informed her. 'Ignore him' she counseled herself. 'Maybe he'll just go away.' "Going on a date luv?" the voice persisted.

The woman continued to stare at the pump.

"I believe those type of dresses are referred to as 'little black numbers', and I just have to say that it looks stunning on you. Those legs are something for the eye to behold, and that ankle chain just makes me want to 'reach out and touch someone'."

Still the woman refused to be baited.

Moments passed without further comment from 'that voice', but the woman could literally feel his eyes wandering over her body. Anger began to grow and the woman clenched her teeth at the indignity of his subtle violation of her body. Despite the warm evening air, goose bumps popped out on her arms and she struggled to repress a shiver that threatened to race through her small frame.

Suddenly, the feeling of his eyes on her was gone. Behind her she heard the sound of a gas nozzle being replaced in a pump. 'Good' she thought to herself, 'Maybe now he'll leave.' But the respite from his attention was to be short lived.

"So luv, it's the silent treatment is it? Not the kind of reaction I have come to expect from 'my girl'." he drawled.

That was it! With a surge of anger, the woman spun on her heels to face him. Gas splashed back from the abruptly released nozzle and landed squarely on the hem of her dress and began to trickle down her leg. Oblivious to this disaster to her wardrobe, the woman fixed her gaze on the man facing her.

"I am not, have never been, will never be, YOUR girl!!. Where in the hell do you get off calling me 'your girl', you.. you.. you Sixties looking Billy Idol reject!!"

The man simply raised his eyebrows at her tirade, as he leaned back against his car and reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"You can't smoke here you imbecilic moron. This is a gas station in case you hadn't noticed. And for your information the majority of the people here are mortal and wouldn't appreciate being blown up! Being 'blown up' is not a good start to a Friday night's festivities!"

"My apologies luv" he smirked as he moved to replace the packet in his coat pocket.

"Lets get this completely straight, cause I think you are missing the main gist of this conversation. I am not 'your girl or your luv or your darling or any combination of the above'. Are we onboard with this now?" the woman seethed at him.

"Have I caught you on a PMS week by any chance" he replied with a twinkle appearing in his eyes.

'Damn him to HELL' the girl thought silently, 'He is enjoying this and I'm letting him get away with it!' "No more games! Just leave me alone!" she snarled, before turning back to her gas pump and reaching for the nozzle once more.

"Games? Who's playing games?" said 'the voice'.

"Look, I don't know where you came from or why. Just go back to wherever you have been and LEAVE ME ALONE!"

There was silence from behind her for a few moments, but then 'the voice' spoke again. "Answer my original question and I'll go."

"Question? What question is that?" the woman snapped in exasperation. Anything to get him gone! "Do you have a date tonight? Or are you going solo?"

His interest in her 'current dating status' was confusing. Slowly this time, she released the nozzle and turned to face him once more.

"What business is it of yours whether I have a date or not. Did someone die and elect you as my 'social secretary'?"

"Just answer the question luv."

The woman chose to ignore the reference to 'luv' as her brain struggled to come up with an appropriate response. 'Just answer the question and get rid of him' she urged herself silently.

"Not that it is any of your business, but yes I have 'a date'. I don't usually dress like this just to pump gas." she said as she gestured to her clothing.

Knowing eyes stared back at her as he continued to contemplate the beautiful woman in front of him. She simply glared back at him and waited for him to speak.

"Well?" the woman prompted, "It's obvious you are going to make a comment, so hurry up and get it over with."

"You have no date" was his simple reply.

"How in the Hell would you know what I do or don't have. Suddenly become an expert on women, have you? Funny, but if you are such an expert at women then where is your ho of a girlfriend tonight?"

"So, can I take it that *you* are interested in *my* dating status then?" he drawled.

The woman took a deep breath a opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she though of his 'dating status', but before she could let the words pour forth, an angry car horn sounded from beside them. A quick glance over her shoulder showed her that some extremely irate drivers were waiting their turns at the pumps.

As the woman watched, the man in the car behind hers, stuck his head out his window and yelled, "Take your lovers quarrel elsewhere, sweetcakes. We came to get gas, not watch a soap opera!"

"Lovers quarrel! I don't think so" replied the woman angrily.

"Look, just move the car sweetcakes, or I'll move it for you" said the irate driver as he moved to open his car door.

The woman sensed the man behind her move long before she saw him or heard him.

Trusting her instincts implicitly, her hand flew out and blocked his progress towards the irate driver. "NO" was all she said as her hand made firm contact with his chest.

Startlingly clear blue eyes made contact with hers for a second. Then the man gave a brief nod of his blond head before he moved to take the nozzle of the gas pump from her hand, and he resumed pumping the gas for her. The whole time he kept his eyes locked on the man in the car behind them. To his credit, the guy in the car had finally got a good look at 'sweetcakes' sparring partner and some internal voice warned him that waiting patiently would be the better part of valor in this case. Without further comment, he withdrew back into his car and slammed the door.

The woman turned back to the man pumping gas into her car. The sight of him 'helping' her, even with something as mundane as pumping gas, was disturbing to her. Why should he be willing to help her with anything! Clear blue eyes met her contemplation and she was rewarded with a cheeky wink as the pump finally issued a loud "ping." Quickly the man removed the nozzle and replaced it in the pump.

"Go pay" he said as he turned and moved back towards his own car.

Quickly the woman turned and walked towards the cashier. 'Thank God that is over and he's going. I gotta get my butt in gear and get going or this 'occasion of the year' is going to be over.....and so will my life,' she thought to herself as she paid for the gas.

Turning back towards her car, she noticed that the man's black pile of junk was gone from the pump beside hers. Briefly, she felt a stab of unexpected disappointment but she quickly repressed it and hurried on. Without glancing inside, she slid into her car and reached for the keys before noticing the body occupying the passenger seat beside her.

For a moment she just glared at him in disbelief. For his part, he simply stared straight ahead out of the window and waited for what he knew was coming.

"GET OUT"

The blond head merely shook a slight negative reply.

"GET OUT DAMN IT"

No response from the blond head this time.

"Don't make me put you out of this car" the woman snarled in exasperation Behind her, the irate driver leaned on the horn once again. Obviously his newly found patience had worn thin again.

"Better move the car luv" the man beside her offered.

"Not until you get out the damn car" she replied as she removed her hands from the wheel and crossed them over her chest.

Briefly the blond man glanced at her. "OK, then we will just have to sit here then."

"I mean it, I'll put you out of this car if I have to"

"You don't want to do that luv. It would 'make a scene, and I know you hate scenes." he drawled knowingly.

The woman sucked in her breath as she struggled to control her anger. "Fine! Then we will sit here then!"

"OK, fine by me, but do you want to take care of the guy behind us or shall I?"

"What?" said the woman as she glanced into her review mirror.

The man behind her had now gone beet red in the face and was pounding angrily on his steering wheel. Any minute now he'd be out of his car and heading over here.

With a muffled curse, the woman started her car and pulled away from the pump. Spying her passenger's black pile of junk car nestled into a parking space at the back of the station, she angled her car in that direction and pulled up behind it.

"Now get out!"

The blond man just shook his head.

"Why not?"

Finally the blond man turned to look at her. "I'm going to be your date tonight."

"Like HELL you are!!!"

"Accept it. I am going to be by your side all night."

"But, but... I already have a date. I told you that" the woman struggled to get this new turn of events clear in her one remaining brain cell. This was crazy! What in the Hell was going on! "You don't have a date. Don't lie" he said with a smirk.

"Oh yeh! And how would you know this?" she demanded "Simple Cutie, women who are dressed like you are for a date get picked up by their date. They don't take themselves to the 'date' and pump their own gas."

The woman struggled briefly against his logic, before offering a quiet "What would you know about dating etiquette?"

"You would be surprised at what I know. Now why don't you just drive back home so you can change your clothes, because quite frankly you stink of petrol right now."

"Petrol?" said the woman confused.

"Gas luv. Petrol is gas, and currently you are wearing it as a rather offensive perfume."

The woman's mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find an appropriate retort.

"Look" said the man, "Lets argue on the way, or you are going to be late."

"I can't take you on this date!" the woman tried again.

"Drive and we'll argue. I promise to argue. Cross my heart"

"Damn it Spike!." But the woman reached for the wheel and put the car into gear.

Would anyone believe this night! How am I going to get rid of him. I don't believe this is happening to me! Beside her, unnoticed, the blond man allowed himself to finally relax slightly. Briefly the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a semblance of a smile. He had done it. He had got close to her. Now all he had to do was to figure out some way to stay there.

Chapter 2

Between Movement
and Disruption
comes a perfect moment
when all things sing together--
sky, sea, sand, earth, blood.
Their song is called Flowering

The tyres squealed in protest as Buffy floored the gas pedal out of the gas station, and headed straight for the Interstate on-ramp.

"Take it easy. Getting a ticket would take up allot of our precious time together" said Spike as he twisted round in his seat so that he could watch her while she drove. Casually he leaned his back against the passenger door and reached into his pocket for the ever present cigarette pack.

The woman glared at him. "One, don't tell me how to drive and two, don't smoke in my car and three, we don't have any *precious* time to spend together."

The man smiled at her and continued to go about lighting his cigarette. "I see you are getting over your previous 'bad mood' nicely."

"Did you hear me Spike! I said no smoking in here."

"Sue me" was his distracted reply as he turned to survey the direction they were taking.

"I don't need to sue you, how about I just kill you!" the woman snarled.

Spike glanced back at her. "That is always an option. But before we get into that discussion, can I suggest that you take the surface roads rather than the Interstate."

"You seem to be having a hearing problem tonight Spike. I said not to comment on my driving."

The blond man glanced at her and shot her a crooked grin before settling back against the door. "OK, its your funeral. It is Friday rush hour and the Interstate is going to be solid."

The woman slammed her hands against the wheel and the car veered sharply before she managed to regain control. Her head swinging wildly between looking at the road and looking at the aggravating man lounging beside her, she let loose.

"OK, Spike, OK. So lets see if I have managed to get this straight. Tonight you are an expert on dating etiquette, gas pumping, perfume, evening wear, driving, and now you are also an expert on traffic patterns. GIVE ME A BREAK. Hello and Welcome to the Twentieth Century. That is what we have car radios for. Traffic reports, helicopters, police reports all filter through this little mechanism here" she screeched as she gestured wildly at the car stereo.

"Fine" he said with a broad smile. "Take the Interstate."

"Fine. I will!!" she said, entering the on ramp at a rapid rate of knots.

"Buffy"

"What now?"

"Did anyone ever tell you that you are especially beautiful when you are mad?"

"What!" Momentarily her attention was distracted from the road by his unexpected statement.

Spike, however, was watching the road. "WATCH IT" he yelled suddenly. Buffy's eyes swung straight ahead and were meet with the glare of hundreds of red tail lights all at a dead stop. Without pause for thought, Buffy stood on the brakes and then spent the next couple of seconds concentrating on preventing the car from going into a skid.

It was close, but her car came to rest a few inches from the back bumper of the car stopped directly ahead of her.

"Whew. That was close" she mumbled to herself, as she smiled apologetically at the wild eyes of the people in the car ahead, who had turned in their seats at the sound of her screeching tyres. "Sorry" she mouthed to them, before turning to look at Spike.

But Spike was not on the seat beside her! He had been sitting sideways when she slammed on the brakes, and the sudden deceleration had effectively slid him off his seat and into the footwell of the car. There he sat on the floor, still clutching his cigarette. His head was bent downward and he was shaking it in slow disbelief.

"Spike? You OK?" Buffy said, with a look on her face which said quite plainly....oh shit, I have gone and done it now.

Slowly he raised his eyes to meet hers. His lips were pursed in exasperation and the look worked to highlight his prominent cheek bones.

He didn't say a word. He just glared at her. Buffy tried. She really tried, but she couldn't do it. The sight of his large frame crunched into the footwell of her tiny car was just too much. It started with a slight twitching at the corners of her mouth and quickly expanded into a full faced grin. Laughter bubbled up and exploded into the silence.

"I'm glad you find this amusing" he drawled at her.

"I... I... I'm sorry. Really I am. Honest" she giggled.

"Yeah, right" he said taking a puff of his cigarette.

A few minutes passed while Buffy tried to regain control. The laughter didn't seem to want to stop. It had been so long since she had truly laughed, and it felt great to let loose! Eventually she regained a semblance of control and motioned for him to get back up on the seat.

Spike ignored the gesture and continued to puff on his cigarette.

"OK Spike, you can get up now." said Buffy, finally able to manage speech again.

"Nope"

Buffy's smile began to turn back to its former glare. 'OK, what was he playing at now?' she thought to herself.

"Why not?"

"Because, Slayer, I am stuck."

For a minute Buffy didn't believe her ears. Then her eyes traveled his large frame and saw how his lower body was jammed securely into the small space. As she looked, her face began its former twitching and the laughter threatened to take hold once more.

"Oh, this is priceless. Truly priceless. Wait a minute, I know I have one of those disposable cameras in this car somewhere. This has to be a Kodak moment."

she said as her eyes traveled the car interior quickly.

"Slayer, you DO NOT want to do that. Anyway, you can't take a Vampire's picture." said Spike from his cramped position on the floor.

"Look, why don't you just get out of the car and come round and open the door for me" he suggested.

Buffy nodded her head at his suggestion, but instead of getting out of the car, she sat back and contemplated the standstill traffic jam ahead of her.

"Buffy?" said Spike questioningly.

Buffy glanced down at him. "Why should I help you out. You are quite safe down there, and you are definitely unable to accompany me as my date tonight. Seems like my problems have been solved."

"Buffy... " growled Spike warningly.

"OK, OK, I'm going" she said as she smilingly reached for the door handle. Quickly she skirted round the car to the passenger side. She was aware that she had immediately become the center of attention for all the traffic jammers. There she was in 'the little black number, high heels, and lace gloves in the middle of an Interstate traffic jam. An interesting spectacle for all.

Wanting to get out of the limelight as quickly as possible, she reached the passenger door, and quickly wrenched it open without thinking. Deprived of his back support and unable to keep his balance in his cramped position, Spike's upper body jackknifed out of the car door and his head hit the Slayer directly in the stomach, sending her crashing to the ground beneath him.

For a second they both just lay there. Finally Buffy opened her eyes and found herself staring at the sky. Spike too had a good view of the stars. He was laying with his back and head firmly against the Slayer's prone body.

"Get *off* me" Buffy hissed as her eyes traveled quickly to the surrounding cars. As was to be expected, all eyes were firmly fixed on them.

"Love to Slayer, but I have one small problem."

"What now?"

"My legs are still stuck in the car, I can't move."

"You are kidding, aren't you?" said Buffy in disbelief.

Spike didn't answer, but Buffy became aware of a subtle shaking of his body.

"Spike?" she probed questioningly.

The shaking became harder and Buffy pushed at his back worriedly. Then the sound reached her ears. He was laughing! Laughing! Could you credit it. Here they both lay, stuck in the middle of an interstate traffic jam with a hundred pairs of eyes watching them. 'Kill him. She would have to kill him,' she seethed to herself.

"Spike."

"Spike, stop it!"

"Spike, we have to get up from here."

"OK Slayer, what do you suggest" he finally managed to reply.

"You try to pull yourself upward by grabbing onto the car door and I'll slide out from beneath you."

"But I kinda like you beneath me." he replied.

"Now is not the time for games Spike!" the Slayer hissed. "Pull yourself up, or else!"

"OK, if you insist" he agreed, as he reached out and grabbed the car door. Easily, he pulled himself up so that the Slayer could slid out. With a quick movement, Buffy pushed herself free and sat up beside him. As soon as she was clear, Spike lowered himself back to the ground and glanced over at her.

Buffy was busy examining the damage. Her hair was wrecked. One heel had snapped off one elegant shoe and her lace gloves had more holes than they had originally designed with.

"Now you definitely need to go home and change" he drawled at her.

"YOU should shut up while you are still ahead" she warned.

Quickly she tore both shoes from her feet, and struggled to stand up while pushing her short dress back into position. Smoothing the hair back from her eyes she glared down at the man lying half in and half out of her car.

"OK, enough of this. YOU have made this evening a total disaster. Things cannot get any worse, so lets get you out and you can take off and LEAVE ME ALONE."

Spike totally ignored her, instead he said, "The view from down here is fantastic."

Buffy glanced down at him and found his eyes traveling along the length of her legs. 'Damn him!' Without thinking she drew back her foot and aimed a swift kick at his ribs. Unfortunately, she had forgotten that she had no shoes on. Impact was painful.....for them both.

Spike clutched at his ribs, while Buffy utter a strangled curse and began hopping around on one leg, while trying to massage her injured foot.

"Serves you right. You really have to get a handle on that temper" snarled Spike from his prone position on the ground.

"TEMPER. You have the balls to talk about *my* temper. You have the..."

her voice trailed away as she continued to glare at him. Then she turned her back on him and walked away a few feet while she physically tried to calm herself.

"OK, we are NOT going to do this, we are NOT going to go there! Just get him outta of the car and get to the damn event. Lets keep priorities straight." she counseled herself outloud.

Turning she moved to walk back to the watching Vampire, but before she could take a step the Heavens opened on her. The thunderstorm that had been threatening all day, decided that now was the time. Water poured down and in seconds they were both drenched. Buffy stood stock still and stared up at the Heavens in disbelief. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Her hair was plastered to her face, and her dress was ruined and plastered to her body.

Lowering her eyes, she glanced at the cars around them. Now their audience virtually had their noses plastered to the windows of their cars. Buffy gave them an encompassing glare before stalking over to Spike.

"I should just stake you right now. That way you would turn to dust and BE GONE from my car." she yelled at him while water dripped off the end of her nose.

"How about just freeing my legs instead... and preferably before I drown" he added as water pelted his upturned face.

"You can't drown, worse luck" muttered the Slayer as she bent over him and stuck her head into the car to survey his legs. Her position caused her dress to pull up and left Spike with a beautiful view. Wisely he decided just to enjoy the view rather than comment on it.

At that moment, he felt the Slayer begin to tug on his legs in an attempt to untangle them. "Ouch! That hurt." he hissed at one particularly violent heave from the Slayer. Buffy didn't bother to respond. She just continued her pushing and pulling. Finally she succeeded. Spike slid from the car and lay on his back on the asphalt.

Buffy backed out of the car and glared down at him. "Now get in the car, and this time sit properly in the seat AND put the damn seat belt on."

Spike pushed himself to his feet and adjusted his soaking clothing. Then he turned his eyes on the dripping Slayer.

"If you had been paying attention to the road this wouldn't have happened in the first place!"

"Oh yeh, RIGHT, blame it all on me!" seethed the Slayer.

"Well I did tell you not to take the Interstate..." he hissed back.

Buffy held out her hands for silence. "Look, just get in the car and lets get out of here."

"Doesn't look like we are going anywhere by the looks of this traffic."

"Spike. GET. IN. THE. CAR."

Spike glanced at the woman. Her whole body posture told him that she was a woman at the end. Definitely not a woman to be messed with right now. Closing his mouth, he moved back into the car and closed the door.

For a minute Buffy continued to stand in the road. Then, satisfied that he was finally back in the car, she moved back round at got in the drivers seat.

Neither said anything while the water continued to drip off them and pooling in their seats and at their feet.

Finally, Spike spoke up. "OK, so what do you want to do for fun now?"

Chapter 3

Paths divide,
old skins are shed.
How skillful the means
that free you
to become more truly
who you are.

For over fifteen minutes Buffy didn't say a word. She turned the heater on and placed her hands on the steering wheel and proceeded to stare straight ahead. Spike opened his mouth a couple of times to say something, but a quick glance at the white knuckled fists gripping the steering wheel convinced him that now was definitely a moment best passed over to silence.

Finally, the traffic jam began to move, and the car heater managed to reduce them both from a soggy dripping heap, to a semi-reasonable squadgy damp mess. Buffy continued to over concentrate on the road ahead as she inched the car forward. She totally ignored the blond man at her side. Finally Spike figured enough time had passed and that instant death would no longer be the punishment for the crime of speaking.

"So are you still going to this 'event' thing of your mother's tonight?"

Buffy turned a gave him a withering glare which would have sent lesser men running for cover.

"You're not going to believe this Spike" she said, with her voice literally dripping sarcasm, "but I have nothing to wear." That said, she turned her head back to the road ahead and proceeded to ignore him once more.

Spike decided to forge bravely ahead. "What do you mean you have 'nothing' to wear'. I hate it when girls say that with a wardrobe full of clothes."

For a moment, Buffy did not acknowledge him but then she turned to look at him.

In an infinitely calm voice that was much more worrisome than her previous rages, she explained the situation as if he was a three year old.

"I said I have nothing to wear and that is what I meant. This 'event' as you so aptly put it, is a black tie affair. I had nothing appropriate to wear so my mother bought me this rig. Now this 'rig' is completely ruined, as am I. My mum will kill me for being late, she will kill me for wrecking the clothes, and she will even kill me if I turn up late and inappropriately dressed. Does that explanation satisfy you? Please tell me if it doesn't, because my one aim at the moment is to make sure you are comfortable with what is going on here."

"How late are we?" asked Spike carefully.

"We, are not late. I am. I was supposed to be there early to help my mum finish setting things up, and the actual event," she glanced at her watch, "starts in half an hour."

"OK, so we could still get there almost at the start of this thing." said Spike thoughtfully.

"Are you dense? We are about half a hour from my house, then I'd have to shower, put on new make-up, and change....*if* I had anything to change into!"

"Look, do you want a way out of this mess or are you just going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself?" Spike snapped.

Buffy glared at him. "Don't start on me. It would NOT be a good move."

Spike ignored her pointed comment. "Well Slayer, do you want a solution?"

Buffy sighed. "OK, give."

"All right. My place is just off the next offramp. We can get there in about 10 minutes. You can take a shower and change there. I have something you can put on."

Buffy stared at him as if he had lost his mind. "You think I'm going to walk willingly into *your* home! Not a hope in Hell."

"Look Slayer, you are perfectly safe. If I had wanted to kill you, I already have had plenty of chances. This is your only chance to make the event and survive your mother's wrath semi-intact." Spike sat back and waited for the reality of her situation to sink into her brain. Silence ensued.

"What exactly do you have for me to wear? If you are thinking about passing me some of Dru's hand me downs, then you can forget it. I'd go naked first."

"Don't tempt me Slayer" said Spike grinning at the thought.

"Spike!"

"OK, OK, don't go losing it again. I promise that I have something appropriate for you to wear. And I promise that it never belonged to Dru. Satisfied?"

Buffy stared at the slow moving traffic ahead. Spike's off ramp was coming up on them. She had to admit that he was right, his plan was the only one that would get her to this thing. Without comment, she steered the car to the off ramp.

"OK, so where to now?"

Spike allowed a small grin to play across his mouth, as he gave the distracted Slayer directions to his house.

Within moments they pulled up in front of a neat two story. Buffy took a long look at the neatly presented two level house and turned a quizzical eyebrow in Spike's direction. Spike merely shrugged his shoulders. "It's home for now,"

was his only comment.

Buffy found those simple words unexpectedly saddening. For the first time it hit her that Spike never got to stay in one place to long. By his very nature, he had to keep moving and leaving everything that had become familiar to him behind. She, herself, had a hard shot at fate, but at least she got to stay in one place and had her family and friends around her for support. It was a benefit that Spike wasn't able to have.

Buffy nodded her head in acknowledgment and moved to follow him from the car and into the house. Once inside, she found the home tastefully and comfortably decorated. It could have been anyone's house. Nothing about it screamed "vampire" at you.

Without comment, Spike motioned her to follow him upstairs. She hesitated only briefly, before following him up the stairs and through a door into a bedroom.

"You can use this room, it's my spare bedroom though I don't get much company staying over. They tend to worry about their blood levels too much" he grinned at her.

"I can see how that might be an issue." acknowledged Buffy.

"Anyway, it has a shower just through that door there," he said as he gestured to a small door just to the right of the bed. "Go ahead a take your shower. I'll go get that dress and leave it lying on the bed for you."

Buffy nodded self conciously and waited for him to depart. She couldn't believe this was happening. Here she was, in her mortal enemy's home, preparing to get naked and take a shower. The funny part was, she trusted him to behave and she didn't know why! With Spike gone, Buffy shed her ruined clothing and headed for the shower. All she wanted right now, was to feel the scalding hot water on her back. And it was worth it. She emerged from the shower glowing from the heat and feeling like a new person. Quickly, she wrapped a towel round her and moved to crack the door to the bedroom just to make sure that Spike wasn't in the room. He wasn't.

Buffy moved into the room and glanced at the bed. There lay two boxes with ribbons round them. Her face creased in confusion. He had said he could let her borrow a dress, he hadn't mentioned anything about a present. She started to move towards the boxes, but then changed her mind. First things first. Hair and face.

She had spied a hair dryer in the bathroom, so she went back to get it, then plugged it in and flopped down on the bed. For a moment she though about just laying down on the bed and giving into the warm, comfortable tired feeling that was taking over her body. But then vision of her irate mother swam into her brain. With a sigh, she reached out and grabbed her purse and withdrew her hairbrush. Ten minutes later her hair was dry and reasonably styled considering she didn't have her curling iron with her.

That accomplished, she grabbed her purse and moved over to the dressing table, and turned the contents of her purse upside down on it. Various items fell out, and among them was enough make-up to manage to do the job. Glancing at the wall clock, she saw that time was slipping by rapidly. Better make short work of the cement, she thought to herself. Minutes later, she stood up from the dressing table and surveyed her efforts. Not too bad considering! Buffy turned and surveyed the packages on the bed. For some reason, she felt some apprehension at opening them. It felt like something would change once she opened those boxes, but that was just a stupid notion. What could be so important about two little boxes! Putting the notion from her head, she marched determinedly to the first box and pulled at the ribbon. Then, taking a deep breath, she took the lid off.

Inside lay the most beautiful material she had ever seen. It was dark, dark emerald green. She reached out and touched it gently. Silk. It had to be silk.

Almost not daring to breath, she took hold of the dress and lifted it gently from the box. It fell like a whisper of the warmest air. For a moment, all Buffy could do was look at the dress before her. It was so beautiful. Then her attention was caught by another swash of material still lying in the box. Laying the dress carefully on the bed, she reached into the box and found that it also contained underwear made out of the same beautiful material.

"Hope it fits" she said to the empty room.

Quickly she tried on the underwear. To her surprise, they fit perfectly.

"OK, now for the dress" she told herself.

Picking the dress up carefully, she lifted it over her head and felt it run down her body like a perfect glove. Slowly, as if in a dream, she walked over to the mirror and stared in disbelief at the woman who looked back at her. The dress fit her form like a second skin. One arm and shoulder was left bare, with a diagonal sheaf of silk running across her breasts to cover her other shoulder and arm completely. The skirt had along slit which ran up to almost mid thigh.

Still in a semi-daze, Buffy walked back to the bed and with one hand, undid the ribbon on the second box and flipped the lid off. Inside were a pair of shoes finished in the same green silk. With a feeling of resignation to the inevitable, Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed and slipped the shoes onto her feet. She was no longer surprised by the fact that the shoes fit almost perfectly.

Just at that moment there was a polite knock on the door.

Raising her eyes, she called "It's OK to come in."

The door swung open and there stood Spike lounging against the door frame. But it was a Spike she had never seen before. He was all dressed in black, as usual, but this time he was in the sexiest tux she had ever seen. Vampire or not, mortal enemy or not, he looked good enough to eat! "I said you couldn't come with me, damn it." But her voice held no weight to it.

Spike moved slowly towards her and took both her hands in his and pulled her gently to her feet. For a moment he just looked at her, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out another small box. Opening the box, he took out a white gold choker which was set with a stunning opal. Slowly, he moved behind her and placed it around her neck. The feeling of his gentle hands brushing the back of her neck sent involuntary shivers along her body. If Spike was aware of her reaction to his touch, he made no comment.

"You look beautiful" he said quietly.

Buffy lowered her eyes for a second, before raising them to his.

"Spike, where did you get this dress?"

"I was in London a while back during the Fashion Show week. Some friends of mine dragged me along to the show. They said the models were worth some attention." he grinned nonchalantly. "I saw this dress and liked it,so I bought it."

"Why this size Spike? This wouldn't fit Dru."

Spike shrugged. "I don't remember. Maybe it was the only size they had. But it doesn't matter now because it fits you perfectly."

Buffy nodded warily. She didn't accept his explanations. To many coincidences, but her mind refused to accept the only logical answer. Instead she reached for her pocket book and moved towards the door. In a second Spike was at her side and offered her his arm. For a moment, Buffy just stared at the arm. Then she turned fearful eyes up to meet his.

The fear in her eyes was not because she was scared of him physically. A good fight or a war of words were no problem. The fear in her eyes was of this new Spike. A Spike she didn't know how to handle. It was also a fear of her own reaction to this new Spike. This night hadn't even started yet, and already it had been totally unbelievable. Things like this just didn't happen. They just didn't! Spike saw the fear and confusion in her eyes, and put out a hand to stop her. Turning her towards him, he reached out a gentle hand and took her hand in his.

"I won't hurt you. Ever. I don't ask for anything, just that you watch and wait and make up your own mind. Trust me, even if just for tonight."

Buffy contemplated him for a minute. His eyes spoke of sincerity. Finally, she gave a brief nod and took his arm. Spike guided her downstairs, but instead of heading to the front door and her car, he changed directions and headed towards the kitchen door.

"Where are we going? My car is outfront." asked Buffy somewhat warily.

"I thought we'd take my car for tonight." was his reply.

"But your car is at the gas station where you left it,"

"I have another car. I don't use it too much, because it attracts too much attention."

Buffy nodded acceptance and allowed herself to be guided out and onto the side driveway. And there sat a Jaguar XJ12 in the same midnight emerald green as her dress. By now, the surprises of the night had started to become common place, so she refrained from comment and simply allowed him to assist her into the car.

The word car was an understatement. The interior was in the softest pure pale tan leather, and the dashboard and accessories were in polished oak. The car even smelled rich. Beside her, Spike lowered himself into the car and started it. Pale green lights illuminated the dash board, and an almost undetectable hum was audible from the powerful engine.

Spike glanced over at her and grinned.

"Ready love?"

Buffy nodded, still unable to find any words.

Spike depressed the clutch and shifted the car into gear. The automobile rolled forward and Buffy had the feeling that this "date" would be one that she would never forget.

Continued...

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