Part One

"You want me to what?" Spike stared at Buffy incredulously. She couldn't have just ask what he thought she'd asked.

"I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend," Buffy repeated, looking past him and around the cemetery. She was doing her rounds and happenstance to run across her reluctant helpmate, which was what she had been hoping to do. If her plan was going to work, she needed a boyfriend and fast.

The Slayer had asked what Spike thought she asked. "Why the bloody hell do you think I'd want to do something like that?" he questioned.

"You know what, forget it," she said. "I'll ask Xander. Or Riley."

She started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it, Slayer."

"Well, excuse me for not knowing that," she said, ripping her arm from his grasp. "The utter disgust on your face at the thought of being my boyfriend must have been your way of looking pleased."

"I only asked you why," Spike scowled. "And why didn't you ask the other blokes first? After all, pet, we aren't the best of friends."

"You lie better," Buffy said. "And you won't be intimidated."

Spike arched a brow. "Does this post come with hazard pay?"

"Look, will you do it or not?" Buffy snapped. "Because I have vampires to go kill, present company included if you don't answer."

He put his hands up in mock defense. "Testy, Slayer. Someone sure has her knickers in a twist over something." The stake came out of her sleeve. "Hold your bloody horses, pet. If you're rarin' for a fight, I'd be happy to give it a go."

"Yes or no, Spike," she growled.

"Before I decide, I want to know what's in it for me?" Spike said, dropping his arms.

Buffy smiled bitterly. "Revenge."

"Against who?" He knew the answer before the question was even out of his mouth. "I'll do it."

"Meet me outside of Willy's in an hour and I'll tell you what I want you to do," she said.

"Will do, pet," he said.

She nodded, the stake disappearing back up her sleeve, and walked away. Spike stared after her a moment, then went off in the opposite direction.

Two weeks earlier

"What?" Buffy gasped, staring at Willow in shock.

"Angel and Cordelia," Willow said carefully. "They were all over each other at the club. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it."

"But...but...Angel," she stammered.

"They didn't know Oz and I were there," Willow said. "It was just chance that we ended up at the same club they were at."

"...and...and...Cordelia?" Buffy continued, trying to grasp the concept.

"Um, yeah," Willow said softly, laying her hand on Buffy's knee. "I'm sorry."

Buffy shook her head and a hard look entered her eyes. "How 'all over each other' were they?"

"Do you really want to-" Willow gulped when Buffy glared at her. "They looked like they were licking each others toes by going through their mouths."

"And their hands," Buffy said, her eyes narrowing.

"Under the clothing and on...parts," the redhead answered.

Buffy pursed her lips together and her jaw ticked from clenching it so hard. She nodded once, rose, and headed out of the dorm room. That night, the vampires turned tail and ran at the waves of fury radiating off of her.

Present

Spike lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to curl into his dead lungs. He was sitting on the edge of the wall that separated the outdoor tables at the coffee shop from the sidewalk, awaiting the Slayer as promised. Raising his head, he looked out onto the dark streets, searching for her and for threats.

He'd been back in Sunnydale 'officially' for almost a year, watching the Slayer's back and helping out when he could by getting information through non-human sources. He had been blackmailed by Whistler into making his presence known and joining the fight for good, instead of staying in the shadows like he had been since the freak snow of 1998. What the demon had on Spike was something that the blond vampire never wanted anyone to know, living or unliving.

He heard the Slayer's sharp steps on the pavement before she came into view. He could tell that she was angry by the way her heels hit the ground with hard raps and, having grilled Willy about his sire during the interlude, he knew why. When she finally came into view, he felt the familiar tightening inside of him, like he'd been sucker-punched by Superman. To him, the Slayer was like a black widow spider -- beautiful and deadly.

Over the past year and a half, he'd watched as her skills became more and more precise, culminating to the point where he'd be hard-pressed to beat her one-on-one. He secretly praised her Watcher, even though he was no longer officially in that position, for his training of her. It took a real man to not stop his duties even though he'd been fired and replaced, then had his Slayer quit the Council altogether.

"Hello, Slayer," Spike greeted casually, cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Let's walk," Buffy said, barely pausing her steps as she waited for him to join her.

Spike hopped off the wall and fell into step with her. He saw the tension in her shoulders and in the clenching of her jaw. Normally, he egg her on to see how far he could go before the stake came out. Tonight, however, he did not. "I know what happened with the ponce, so you don't need to tell me."

"Good," Buffy said.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, flicking his cigarette away.

"I told you, I want you to act like you're my boyfriend," she said, irritation in her voice.

"I know that," he growled, then clamped down on his temper. "I meant how?"

Buffy looked over at him with a frown. "What do you mean, how? You do boyfriendly stuff."

"Slayer, I've never been anyone's bleedin' boyfriend, pretend or otherwise," he said, shoving his hands in his duster pockets.

"What about Drusilla?" she questioned.

Spike chuckled hollowly. "Dru and I were anything but that."

"Great," Buffy sighed. "I haven't had a real boyfriend since I was fifteen, not including Scott."

"Scott?" Spike said, wondering who he was. He only thought that Angel had been her...whatever they had been.

"Just a guy I dated for, like, three weeks. Of course, Angel came back during the second week and I was taking care of him, then Scott dumped me...never mind," she said, her pace quickening as her unresolved hurt over that incident layered onto her anger with Angel.

"Let me make sure I understand," he said. "You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend, but you don't know how you want me to act and I sure as bloody hell don't know how to act." He paused and gave her a half-smile. "We're buggered."

Buffy snorted, then fell into silence. They continued walking until they reached the docks. The Slayer walked to the edge of the pier and looked out over the water.

Spike watched her out of the corner of his eye. Anger wasn't the only emotion he could see in her face. Hurt and sadness, plus a little bit of jealousy, all rolled across her features as she stared out over the black ocean. Despite their no longer being together, he knew that she still loved him. Love was not like a faucet that could be turned on and off at will, as he very well knew.

He knew she was not exclusively angry that Angel had moved on, she was also angry because he had moved on to one of her friends. It rubbed salt into the wound in her heart caused by their breakup. It didn't help that the only person she thought he couldn't be with was her, but he could be with anyone else he chose.

"When is he coming?" Spike finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Friday," Buffy answered. "There's a new baddie suppose to be arising with the new moon and Giles felt that we'd need his help."

"And you were going to tell me this when?" he scowled.

"Tonight, whether you agreed to help me or not," she replied calmly. "I just found out this morning myself."

"Then we have three days to figure out how to act like a couple," he said, a frown netting his brows. "Are we suppose to be a new couple or and old couple?"

Buffy shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. Just as long as he gets the message that I am so over him he could explode in a cloud of dust and I wouldn't bat an eye."

"Ouch," he commented. A smile of evil glee crossed his face. His sire was going to hurt.

"Yeah," Buffy said, her eyes glittering with the idea as she met his eyes. "Ouch."

Part Two

Buffy rang the bell at the address Spike had given her. "What is it with vampires and warehouses," she muttered, pocketing the scrap of paper he'd scribbled on the previous night. Despite his help for close to a year, she'd never been to where he lived. She'd never even knew where it was until now.

She remembered the first night she'd found out he'd be helping her. It had been pouring outside and he had entered the small bookstore Giles owned, soaked and swearing. She had immediately leapt up and pinned him against the register counter, reaching for a pencil to use as a stake. He had called white flag and, because he had done so once before and helped her save the world, she released him. He then had pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Giles.

She smiled when she remembered the shock on Giles' face, and the unhappiness on Spike's, when the letter from Whistler was read. Spike had given Giles a phone number, then disappeared, only to mysteriously show up whenever she needed help. He was worse than Angel when it came to appearing out of nowhere.

Thinking of Angel caused a scowl to form on her face, and that was what Spike opened his door to. "Slayer, you're looking quite peckish this evening."

"Up yours, Spike," Buffy said, pushing past him.

"Please, do come in," he said sarcastically, closing the door behind her.

Buffy blew out a breath of air and apologized. "Sorry. That was rude of me."

"If you weren't rude, I'd be worried you were sick," he commented, gesturing to a stairwell beside the door. "Up we go."

Buffy let Spike lead up the four flights of stairs to the top level of the three-storey, boarded up warehouse. The Slayer couldn't hide her shock when she stepped through the fire door into his home. "Wow," she said, her eyes huge as she stood by the stairwell door.

She had expected dark, gothic colors, not the bright, cheery atmosphere she found herself in. The ceiling, venting, and brickwork were all exposed, and three black, old-fashioned ceiling fans hung suspended straight down the large room. The floor was hardwood and in a light walnut color throughout the level, with a few throw rugs scattered around.

The stairwell was located in the southeast corner of the room, bricked off, with a black fire door. Directly across from it was where the kitchen was located. A chest-high, beige counter partitioned the kitchen off, with one of the black, metal support beams serving as the corner-point for the area. A modern stove, refrigerator and sink filled the area along the east wall, with the same colored cabinets on the walls above as the hardwood flooring.

Just outside of the kitchen was a table and four chairs and beyond the next support beam, heading west on the north side of the floor, was an open area with a stack of mats against a beige wall. The entire south side of the floor was utilized as a living room. A light brown couch, love-seat and recliner formed a sitting area, with a low, walnut colored coffee table in the center on a large, western-colored throw rug. An end table was between the couch and the love-seat with a simple lamp on it. On the other side of the couch was a freestanding halogen lamp, with the recliner beside that. On the floor next to the recliner was an old fashioned magazine holder.

Along another built, beige wall was an entertainment center and bookshelves. Both were filled to capacity with books, CDS, movies, cassettes and albums. She saw ashtrays scattered around, along with open magazines, piles of newspapers, and yellow legal pads with Spike's chicken-scratchings on them. There were also bare shelves running at various levels along the walls, with a cut up box every so often, which made Buffy wonder what the shelves were used for.

She finally whistled in awe, and took a hesitant step forward. "Go ahead," he said, when she looked at him in askance.

Buffy took off her jacket and handed it to him, then ventured towards the small hallway created by the beige walls at the west end of the floor. There were two doors, both open, to her left and right. The one on the right led into a simple bathroom, done in white and green. The door on the left led to the bedroom.

A queen-sized bed was in the center of the wall across from the door, with a plain, light blue comforter on it, and night stands on either side. Along the brick outer wall was a wardrobe cabinet and, against the additional wall, was a chest of drawers. All the furnishings were the in the same colored wood as the hardwood floors.

And the most unusual thing was the white, short-haired cat with bright blue eyes sitting in the center of the bed. It stared at her, unblinkingly, until Buffy got the feeling that the feline was sizing her up. After a moment, the cat stood, stretched, then hopped off the bed and padded silently out of the bedroom.

Buffy followed and was in time to see the animal leap up to one of the shelves on the wall and move along it until the feline reached the kitchen. "Spike, I didn't know you owned a cat," she commented, as the cat jumped onto the refrigerator and began eating food from a dish she hadn't noticed.

"I don't own a cat," Spike told her as he handed her a Diet Coke. "He owns me."

She couldn't help but smile and shook her head at the total unbelievability of his home. "I really like your place," she said, popping the tab on the soda. "It's so...non-vampire like."

"Well, I'm going to be here for a very long time," he said. "I might as well have things how I like it." He gestured towards the living room area. "Have a seat."

Buffy sat down on the couch and sighed at its comfortableness. Spike sat down on the love-seat and parked his feet on the coffee table. He set a dark-brown mug down on the end table, then picked up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter off of it. "Alright, Slayer. Let's decide how we're going to do this."

She leaned forward and set her soda on the coffee table, then curled her legs up under her. "How riled up do you want to risk getting Angel? We both know that you are not his favorite person, alive or undead."

"I say bring the wanker on," Spike replied. He lit up a cigarette, then set the lighter back down on the open pack. He picked up the mug and took a drink.

"Then we'll be lovers."

Spike inhaled sharply, causing him to choke. He quickly set the mug down and covered his face with his hands, the cigarette between his fingers. He coughed so hard his eyes watered.

"Are you ok?" Buffy asked, when he finally calmed down.

"Would you mind repeating that?" he said, his voice hoarse as he stared at her.

"I said we should be lovers," she repeated.

"That's what I thought you said," Spike told her. He leaned back and inhaled deeply on the cigarette, looking up at the ceiling. The cat jumped up on the back of the couch and butted his head against Spike's ear. He reached up and scratched the cat behind the ears, his thoughts revolving around one word: **Fuck.**

"God, Spike, is the thought that we're lovers so revolting that you can't talk?" Buffy snapped, rising quickly to her feet. "Thanks so much for the compliment."

"Sit down," Spike growled, lowering his head to pin her with his eyes. "Now."

"Forget it," she said, heading for the door. "I knew I shouldn't have bothered to ask you for help."

He had her pinned against the door in an instant. "How the bloody hell did you expect me to react, Slayer? Should I have jumped for joy? Kissed your feet for allowing me to pretend to worship your body?"

"A simple 'no' or 'ok, pet' would have been just fine," she said, glaring furiously at him. "I know you hate me..."

"I don't hate you," Spike snarled. "You just bloody took me by surprise! Cor, I expected hand holding and flowers and maybe a friggin' kiss or two to show the prick up. Do you know how impossible it would be to pretend we're lovers?"

"Thanks a lot, Spike," Buffy hissed in a low, hurt voice. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

"That's not what I meant!" Spike yelled. He released her and stormed away from her. "I'm a vampire-"

"I know that," she spat.

He spun and glared at her, his blue eyes like chips of ice. "Do you? Do you really?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Duh. You drink blood, you're immortal, you have no soul."

"Exactly," he said. "I have no soul. I'm not like Angel."

"Of course I know you're not like him," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "But what does this have to do with your pretending to be my lover?"

Spike closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists, trying to calm down. He ground his blunt teeth together, his cheekbones becoming more pronounced with the action. Once he was certain he wasn't going to let his demon's face come to the foreground, he opened his eyes and said in a low, deceptively calm tone, "I am a vampire. There is no way for us to pretend to be lovers. Angel would never believe it."

"Why not?" Buffy asked, confusion coloring her anger with him.

"Slayer, vampires mark their human lovers with their bite," Spike told her.

"But Angel-"

"Had a bloody soul!" he snapped. "And he probably had to bite the friggin' pillow so as not to bite you!"

Buffy continued to glare at him, but she cast her mind back to the only night she'd ever had sex. The night was only flashes of memory now, sensory images that were burned into her mind. She remembered Angel's growl of pleasure as he came and tried to focus in on the sound. Using whatever extra-sensory perception she had because she was a Slayer, she was able to discern that Spike was more than likely correct.

"Ok, you're probably right," she said. "And, as much as I don't want your fangs to get near me, if I hold a stake to your heart, you can probably-"

"No."

The simple word held more finality in it than Angel's leaving her after the Ascension did close to a year ago. Spike had turned away from Buffy, not allowing her to see his face. "You're serious, aren't you?" she said. "I thought you'd pretty much kill to be able to drink my blood, I know the kind of additional boost it gives you, and here I am offering you a free taste."

"Slayer," Spike said slowly, staring at a spot on the floor hard enough to burn a hole in it. "I can pretend to be your boyfriend, I can pretend to love you more than blood, and I can make sure Angel knows that you're over him; but I cannot pretend to be your lover."

Buffy felt tears welling up in her eyes as all of her insecurities came rushing forward now that the anger had dissipated. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from letting them fall down her face, but they did not heed her wishes and freely made tracks down her cheeks. "Am I...am I that horrible?" she asked, having a sickening need to know whether or not she was as undesirable as Angel had told her so long ago.

Spike turned at the trembling in her voice and saw her looking at him with haunted, scared and insecure eyes, tears falling down her face. He felt like he'd been slammed by a locomotive at the realization that he was the one to make her cry. Walking back to her, he set his hands on her shoulders and looked her right in the eye.

"Slayer, you are beyond desirable," he told her. "You're enticing and tantalizing and enthralling and electrifying. Your body titillates no matter what you wear. You're dangerous and deadly, which only serves to fuel the temptation your delectable body makes. That's why Angel had to leave you to begin with. How long do you think he could resist? He may be a guilt-plagued poof, but he is still a man."

"But then why won't you bite me?" Buffy asked, a flush of pleasure staining her skin under her tears from his words. "That would ensure that Angel would hurt."

"I can't," Spike said, his voice quiet, but firm.

A light dawned in Buffy's red eyes. "Whistler," she said. "You can't bite me because of him."

He released her and turned away, chuckling bitterly. "You could say that."

Silence permeated his home. The cat walked over and wove himself around Spike's legs, and he bent and picked the feline up. Petting the cat, he walked over to the end table and picked the cigarette up that he had dropped into the ashtray when the Slayer went to leave. He took a long drag on it, staring sightlessly at the beige wall separating his bedroom from the living room.

He knew he'd admitted too much for his own piece of mind. He'd all but told her how attracted he was to her. Luckily, she had put two and two together and came up with five. Whistler did hold the truth over him like the Sword of Damocles and expected certain things from him in return for keeping quiet. However, not biting the Slayer had never come up.

"Listen, pet," he said, extinguishing his cigarette. "How about if we just haven't gotten to that point yet?"

"Do you think he'd believe that?" Buffy said, watching him and wondering what sort of hold Whistler had over Spike. She was going to have to have Willow do some digging. Perhaps he was using magick or was holding Drusilla captive.

"He would if I were madly in love with you," Spike answered, setting the cat on the floor. "I could probably convince him that I want to wait because of what happened between him and you."

"Really layer on the guilt?" she said, a smile forming.

"Like cream cheese," he replied, an echoing smile crossing his lips.

Buffy giggled. "You are so weird."

"Thank you," Spike said, bowing slightly. He gestured to the couch. "Why don't you come back here and we'll watch a picture and I'll hold your hand."

"Why would you want to do that?" Buffy asked, frowning at him, but moving back towards the sitting area.

"We have to start somewhere if we're going to be comfortable enough with each other to fool my trotting sire," he replied. He grinned mischievously at her. "You didn't think that I really want to hold your hand."

She rolled her eyes and took a seat, picking up her soda on the way. "Make sure there's a clear path to the bathroom," she said, taking a sip.

Spike turned from his perusal of his video selection and looked at her. "Why's that, Slayer?"

"Because holding your hand may make me hurl."

Part Three

"It's been a total of six hours in two nights," Spike said, sliding his duster on. "A bloody record."

"Well, you haven't done anything to really annoy me yet," Buffy told him, pretty proud of their non-fighting record herself. She followed him out the door of his place. "But tonight is just starting."

Spike chuckled and locked the main door, then pocketed his keys. Reaching down, he took the Slayer's hand and they headed towards the Bronze. Both of them were more aware of each other and comfortable with one another after only one night of being together. The stake she had hidden up her sleeve had not come out once.

They had held hands the previous night for an entire movie, then moved to the kitchen table to bicker over the film while having a late night treat. Buffy had proclaimed her love for him when he took out a carton of Double Chocolate Fudge Ripple Ice Cream and said she'd move right in. His laugh had been rich and full, filling the top floor of the warehouse and making her really smile for the first time in two weeks.

Tonight was their second step in building up a convincing show for Angel. Wednesday night at the Bronze was no cover, and they had planned to dance and act as couple-like as they knew how. Willow, and therefore Oz, were the only two who knew of the plan between Buffy and Spike. Spike had joked that they should take notes from the other couple's behavior and Buffy agreed -- as long as the note-taking wasn't with his doctor-like handwriting.

Entering the semi-crowded club, Spike spotted the redhead and her boyfriend and he wove his way to them, still holding Buffy's hand. He nodded a silent greeting to the wolf, who returned the same, as they sat down.

"So, how's it going?" Willow asked.

"Spike's not a walking dust pile," Buffy replied, taking off her jacket.

"I've read that's healthy step in a relationship," Oz said. "Not killing the other person."

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Willow said, looking between Buffy and Spike. "I mean, I know Angel did a bad thing. Really bad. But you guys broke up."

"And I'm over him," Buffy stated. "I just want him to know it." She grinned maliciously. "Plus a little retaliation never hurt."

"That's where you're wrong, Slayer," Spike said under his non-existent breath, too low for anyone to hear. He knew from first hand experience that retaliation could hurt more than the sun hurts a vampire. However, that did not stop him from wanting to get back emotionally at his sire for taking Drusilla away from him, and taking Angel's first true love, even if it was for pretend, was the perfect way.

Buffy turned to him as a slow song cued up. "Want to dance?"

"Sure, pet," he answered, sliding his coat off of his shoulders to leave at the table. She smiled at him and took his hand, pulling him after her towards the dance floor. Once there, she dropped his hand and slid her arms around his neck, as he slid his hands around her lower back.

Swaying to the slow beat, the two slowly drew closer and closer to each other. By the end of the song, Buffy had laid her head on his chest and Spike had his cheek pressed against the top of her head. A second slow song started, and the two did not change positions, any and all tension and nervousness disappearing with the music.

When a faster beat cued up, the two separated and exchanged content smiles. "That wasn't too bad," Buffy said, as they headed back towards the table.

"No, it wasn't," Spike agreed, having enjoyed holding the Slayer in his arms almost too much. If he wasn't careful, he would begin to believe that their 'relationship' was real, and that would lead to things that couldn't happen.

The remainder of the night alternated between dancing and conversation with the other couple. At one point, Spike put his hand on Buffy's knee, and she felt a warm, tingling sensation under her skin where he touched. It was hard to concentrate on what they were talking about after that point, because she became super-aware of the man beside her.

She had never thought of Spike as anything other than an annoying vampire who showed up when she was in over her head, killed the bad guys, then disappeared after a few mocking comments. Admittedly, she was curious as to how he always knew when she needed help, and she'd had many hilarious conversations with Willow about what sort of superhero the blond vampire could be, complete with tights and other paraphernalia.

She knew Giles called him to get information through the vampire grapevine and other non-human sources, but she never really wanted to get to know her blackmailed helper. Now that she was starting to get to know him as a person, she was finding herself liking him a lot more than she should like a vampire, even if he was a 'good' one.

It was with that state of mind that they walked backed to his place to get her car. They held hands again, and Buffy noticed the way his cooler hand fit perfectly with hers. She liked the way his long fingers curled over the back of her hand, the way he absently brushed his thumb back and forth across her skin.

"I have a question for you," Buffy said, breaking into the comfortable silence.

"I have an answer for you," Spike replied, giving her a half-grin.

"Funny," she said with a roll of her eyes.

He chuckled. "What's your question, luv?"

"Ok, I know that you're supposed to help me and I'm not supposed to kill you," she started. "And I'm surprised I never flat out asked you before, it being my sacred duty and all..."

"Are you planning to ask me any time soon, pet?" Spike interrupted, giving her hand a playful tug.

"Sorry," Buffy said, giving him a sheepish look. "I wanted to know how you eat. I know Angel will bring up the whole 'he's a bloodsucking killer' thing, and if that's still true..."

"It's not," he answered immediately. However, his voice dropped until it was almost a whisper, and it took almost a pain-filled note. "You can tell the tosser I bag it."

"Really?" she said, surprised. "Wow. Whatever Whistler has on you must be pretty juicy stuff to get you to change your soulless ways."

The bark of laughter that came from him was so bitter, Buffy cringed. He dropped her hand and she immediately felt bereft, and she chastised herself for bringing up an obviously painful subject. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I didn't mean to pry."

Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit up. After allowing the first rush of nicotine to hit him, he blew out the smoke and said, "Don't worry about it, Slayer. That's something a girl would know about her boyfriend."

"I doubt 'Does he suck the blood out of the living?' is a question in one of those 'How Well Do You Know Your Boyfriend?' quizzes," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I took one of those once," Spike said, allowing her to change the subject. "I think it was 'How Good of a Lover Are You?'"

"Let me guess, you're a vampire Lothario," Buffy said.

He gave her a devilish grin. "Actually, I failed it miserably."

"Now, why don't I believe you?" she asked. He chuckled and the tension was released.

"Drusilla's dead."

"What?" Buffy stared at Willow in surprise.

"Dead, as in poof, no more," Willow said. "So Whistler isn't using her to blackmail Spike."

"Wait, how do you know this?"

"Willy," the redhead replied. "With the right amount of persuasion, he's a wealth of information. And wealthier himself." She grinned at her own joke.

"Who killed her?" Buffy asked.

Willow shrugged. "He didn't know. All he remembered was that Spike had come to the Alibi Bar the Christmas that it snowed, drunk as a skunk, and when Willy asked him if there was trouble in Loveland, Spike told him Drusilla was dead, then he left."

"That means that Spike was here less than a month after he kidnaped you and Xander," she said. She had a horrible thought. "Maybe he tortured her too much and killed her."

"But that information couldn't be used as blackmail," Willow said logically.

"I hope that's not what happened," Buffy said quietly. "No one should ever have to go through that pain." She gave Willow a sad smile, pushing away her memories. Angel was alive and alright, even if he was kissing Cordelia. "Ok, I'm fine. What else did you find out?"

"Um, I don't think Whistler has any magick powers," Willow told her. "But he could be using witchcraft."

"It would have to be a really powerful spell to get Spike to stop feeding from people," she pointed out.

"Maybe he'll get his soul back if he sinks his fangs into someone?" Willow suggested.

"Maybe," Buffy said. "He was very not willing to bite me."

"You wanted him to bite you!" she exclaimed. "Buffy, are you nuts! Remember what happened the last time?"

"Angel got better and helped saved lives," Buffy said calmly. "Don't go there, Willow. I would make that same choice now. Anyway, Spike refused, so it doesn't matter."

"What did he say?" Willow asked. "'Thanks for the offer, but if I bite you, Whistler will spill the beans?'"

"Actually, he just said that he couldn't," Buffy replied, frowning slightly. "He didn't bring up Whistler at all, I did."

"Why don't you just ask Spike?" Willow said. "I mean, now that I'm really thinking about it, this is kinda wrong. So is blackmail, but if it's making Spike not eat people, it must be something pretty big and he probably doesn't want us to know what it is, which is why he is allowing himself to be blackmailed. This is Spike."

"And not much bothers him," Buffy said. "Maybe after Angel goes back to LA, I'll ask him. I made a boo-boo last night by asking him how he feeds and things got all tense. It was not of the fun."

"Good idea," Willow said. "So what are you two going to practice tonight?"

"Kissing."

Part Four

"Awkward much?" Buffy asked later that night at Spike's home. They were standing in front of one another, both of them wearing uncomfortable expressions on their faces. Their body language screamed tension, as if they were ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

"It's just a bloody kiss," Spike said, then clenched his teeth back together.

"Just a kiss," she agreed. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Right," he said quickly. "This is pretend."

"Pretend, fake, not real," she said equally as fast.

"Right."

"Right."

They stood there, neither of them moving. The cat suddenly jumped down from a shelf, landing between them. Buffy let out a muffled shriek and Spike yelled something unintelligible as they both jumped back in fright. The feline looked from one person to the other, then sauntered away.

Buffy raised her gaze to meet Spike's and they both burst out laughing. Tears streamed down their faces and the Slayer was bent double, gasping for air. Spike had to brace one arm on the wall so as not to collapse, and was wiping his eyes with the back of his other hand.

"Oh god," Buffy said, calming down.

"Remind me to have the cat for supper later," Spike said. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know," she said. "I think he deserves a treat for that."

Spike turned his head to track his cat's movements. He watched as the feline disappeared down the small hallway, more than likely to go sleep in the bedroom.

"Spike?"

He turned his head back to find Buffy standing right beside him. Before he could even comprehend her presence, she went up on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips. He blinked in shock, his arms falling to his sides and, as impossible as it was, his heart pounded a single beat in his chest. He stared owlishly at her for a moment, then whispered, "Do that again."

Buffy's lips curved up into a smile, and she raised herself back up on her toes and pressed her lips to his with no hesitation. His hands moved around her waist and pulled her closer to him, both their eyes falling shut simultaneously. She slid her hands up around his neck, just like when they danced the night before, only this time her actions were to hold him to her as the kiss slowly deepened.

Spike was lost in a sea of sensations, unable to discern one from another. Each one was more powerful than the next, shaking him to the core, preventing him from doing anything other than feel. And feel he did, causing his senses to overload.

He tasted like mint, with an underlying hint of tobacco and the metallic tang of blood. Her toes curled up when his tongue met hers for the first time, leaving her barely balanced on the balls of her feet. She inhaled a shaky breath as their tongues tangled like their words always had, and she found herself assaulted by the purely male scent of him and the faint odor of cigarettes. She'd always thought the scent of cigarettes was unpleasant until now.

Her body became completely aware of the proximity of his, tingling in some places, tightening in others. She felt her heart flutter in her chest before it began to pound in anticipation. She pressed herself closer to him, and shots of electricity coursed through her as her breasts pushed against the solid wall of his chest, her lower body pressed intimately against his.

Hot. Cold. Soft. Hard. Vanilla. Silky. Blood. Baby Powder. Heart pounding. Berry. Cinnamon. Shaky breaths. Power. Female. Arousal. Mint. Bubble-gum. Pliant. Curvaceous. Diamonds. Musky. Tantalizing. Tangy. Heaven. Hell. Wanting. Needing. Smooth. Strong. Sweet. Salty. Pulse racing. Slayer. Buffy. Slayer. Pain. Buffy. Pain. Slayer. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.

Spike abruptly pushed Buffy away from him with a loud growl and she had just enough time to see his yellow eyes blazing before losing her balance and falling to her butt on the floor. She watched, wide-eyed, as he leapt over the counter into the kitchen and practically tore the freezer door off its hinges. He snatched something from inside and the next thing she knew, the bathroom door slammed shut.

In the bathroom, Spike turned on the water faucet full blast to cold. He cupped his hands under the water and bent down to splash his ridged face. His jaw was clenched tight as he willed himself to calm down. Tears of pain mingled with the drops of water as he continuously splashed the cold water on himself.

After what seemed like forever, his face slowly shifted back into its human planes and he turned off the water. Leaning over the sink, with his hands splayed flat on the counter, he took deep, calming, purposeful breaths. The pain settled into a general ache and he reached for a towel to wipe his face off. He then took the still cold, gelatinous mouth-guard he'd retrieved from the freezer out of his mouth and set it on the sink.

There was a knock on the door and Buffy's voice drifted through it. "Spike? Are you ok?"

Spike took another deep, unnecessary breath and blew it out slowly before answering. "Yeah, Slayer. I'll be out in a minute. Why don't you choose a picture for us to watch, alright?"

"Um, ok," she replied.

He heard her walk away from the door and cursed softly. He never expected kissing the Slayer would cause the reaction it did and he had loved it. Until he'd gotten an infinitely painful reminder as to why he should have kept his distance. "Cor, what the bloody hell am I going to tell her?" he asked the reflectionless mirror.

Buffy watched from the couch as Spike came out of the bathroom and headed for the kitchen, a slight frown marring her brow. She had decided to wait for an explanation, rather than asking flat-out what had happened. She hoped it wasn't because he'd been disgusted by the kiss, because she had thoroughly enjoyed it. So much, in fact, that she wondered if he'd be as good of a lover as he was a kisser.

"Thanks," she said, accepting the bowl of chocolate ice cream from him when he returned to the sitting area. He nodded and sat down beside her, his own dish of ice cream in his hand. "So, I, uh, chose a movie."

"You don't have to beat around the bush, luv," Spike said, eating a spoonful of ice cream. The cold felt wonderful and he ran the ice cream along his gums with his tongue before swallowing.

"Good, because this patience thing is over-rated," Buffy replied. "What happened?"

"I bit my tongue," he lied. She stared at him incredulously, to which he answered with a wry look of his own. "I told you I failed that quiz."

"That's all?" she asked. "You bit your tongue?"

"Hey, it hurt," he said, which was the truth.

"I know it hurts, I've done it before," Buffy said. She took a bite of her own ice cream, not looking him as she added, "I'm just glad it wasn't because you were grossed out or something."

Spike gave her an astonished look. "Fuck, no," he told her. "That was the best kiss I've had in a bloody long time."

Buffy blushed at the compliment, happiness spreading through her. "Well, good. It...kinda was for me, too. Although I seem to have a habit of causing vampires to go game face when they first kiss me."

"And just how many vampires have you kissed, Slayer?" Spike asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she teased right back.

Spike chuckled, glad that he managed to gloss over what happened with a single lie. Next time he kissed her -- and he knew there would be a next time, considering Angel would be in town the next night - he'd make sure he stayed in control. "What video did you pick?" he asked, setting the ice cream on his knee in order to light up a cigarette from the pack on the end table.

"The Cutting Edge," Buffy replied, picking up the remote off of the coffee table. "I haven't seen it before...well, I haven't seen very many movies at all. That whole slaying thing gets in the way of quality vegging time."

"You're more than welcome to come over and watch my collection anytime you'd like, pet," Spike said, then ducked his head in embarrassment. The Slayer seemed to have a knack for making him do things completely out of character for him.

Buffy smiled with pleasure. "I may just take you up on that offer, Mister."

The cat came bounding out of the small hallway at the same time Buffy turned on the movie. He leapt up on the back of the love-seat and walked over to the arm. Once there, he sat down and stared at Spike's ice cream dish on the vampire's knee.

"Forget it," Spike said, exhaling smoke at the cat. The feline meowed at him and he scowled. "This is my ice cream. Get your own."

"Spike, I don't think he can reach the freezer door," Buffy said, giggling. "And it would be hard for him to wrap his paws around the ice cream scoop."

"But he sure as hell would give it go," he said.

"What's his name, anyway?" she asked. "You never did tell me."

"He doesn't have one," Spike told her. She arched her brow in question. "He's deaf, so it wouldn't do me any good to call him."

"But he still should have a name," she told him.

"Then name him," he said. "Nothing nancyish, like Waldo or Edwin or..."

"William?" Buffy supplied with a straight face. He glared at her and she giggled.

"Good thing the picture's staring, Slayer," he growled. "Or you'd be wearing that ice cream."

"I look better in strawberry," she told him with a devilish smile. Then she turned her attention to the movie.

Spike had no trouble picturing what she'd look like with a little ice cream smeared on her. He also had no trouble picturing himself licking the ice cream off of her. He turned his head away from the Slayer and saw the cat still staring at him. "What are you lookin' at?" he groused.

He could swear the cat gave him a knowing smile.

"'...We don't even like each other. We fight all the time.'"

"'Foreplay.'"

Buffy and Spike looked away from the screen and at each other simultaneously. The Slayer started to blush, telling Spike she was thinking the exact same thing he was thinking. "And all this time, I thought it was because I hated you, luv," he said, a mischievous smile playing across his lips.

"This is a movie," Buffy said, gesturing to the television. "What do they know?"

"You're telling me, after all this time we spent fighting, you never once wondered..."

"No!" she interrupted, then blushed even brighter red.

Spike leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Liar."

"Yeah? Well...you? What about you, Mr. Swaggering, Thinks-He's-Hot-Stuff?" she said, going on the offensive because she was embarrassed of her reaction. "You probably think foreplay is only fighting and bloodshed."

"Is that an invitation to prove you wrong, Slayer?" Spike said in a low voice, his eyes piercing hers. Everything inside of him was screaming to move away from the subject, but he didn't care. As futile as it was, he wanted to know if she desired him as much as he desired her.

Arousal flared inside of her, and despite the fact that things were moving too fast between them, she couldn't help but answer, "Yes."

Spike froze. He hadn't expected the simple answer, or her breathy voice that told him she really wanted him. He thought she'd joke it off, even if she did desire him in return. A coil of fire started to burn in the middle of his chest, threatening to consume him. He couldn't even kiss her without losing control, how did he think he would be able to do anything else to bring her pleasure?

He told the voices in his head to shut up, leaned towards her and kissed her. He was prepared this time for the tactile sensations that came with the action. Their intensity did not dim and he felt himself being pulled in by her taste and her scent and her softness. A low rumble emanated from him as he fought to keep his demon at bay, but he still did not stop kissing her. He never wanted to stop.

The feel of his cool lips upon hers was enough to make Buffy tremble. Her hands had gone up around his shoulders when he initiated the kiss. They were awkwardly turned towards one another on the couch, but she didn't care. All she cared about was the feel of his tongue sweeping against hers, the firmness of his lips, the taste of chocolate ice cream and tobacco and him.

She heard a low growling coming from him and it sent tendrils of excitement through her system. She stroked the nape of his neck with one hand, her fingers going up to catch the back of his soft hair before sliding back down his skin. She wanted to be closer to him, wanted to press her body against his, to feel the muscles that lay under his clothing with her hands.

However, it was not to be. Spike slowly pulled away from her and she opened her eyes to meet his gaze questioningly. He reached up and brushed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, following the movement with his own eyes. "You are such a wonderful woman, Slayer," he said softly. "You deserve much more than I am able to give you."

His words confused Buffy and she went to ask what he meant, but he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before she could. Then he turned and settled her against him to watch the remainder of the movie, and she did not bring up the question again.

Continue...