Chapter 4

"You can’t be serious?"

She poked him in the arm as they strolled along the path to the river. "Don’t laugh, I’m very committed to saving the planet. Cars are bad for the earth."

He chuckled at her self-righteous expression. "You don’t seem to have any problem with being a passenger I’ve noticed." He adopted a high falsetto tone. "Oh Gram, I need to go to town. Can Spike take me, he’s so handsome." He fluttered his eyelashes at her.

"Oh please, I never said that."

He winked. "But you wanted to."

"Whatever. Anyway, it’s just, cars and I, not mixy."

"Buffy, it’s a machine, not a person, you just get in and drive." He paused for a minute. "Except maybe for your grandfather’s De Soto."

She rolled her eyes. "Again with the whatever. It’s just not that simple."

"Sure it is, you’ve got a wheel, a gas pedal and a brake. Very simple."

"Yeah, until I touch one of them," she muttered.

"You want me to teach you how?"

She snuck a glance over at him.

"I’m a very good teacher," he added persuasively.

She felt her heart flutter just a little faster as the words filtered through her brain. She imagined he would be a very good instructor, and not just with driving. With other things.

Like kissing. Which she should not be thinking about. But every so often, he’d look at her just so and she’d feel it, like a bolt of lightening, this need, this tightening inside, that she imagined only he could soothe.

"Buffy?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Earth to Buffy?"

She laughed it off. "Sorry, I was being a real space cadet there. So you’d really be willing to teach me?"

"Absolutely." He waggled his eyebrows. "I like to live dangerously."

"Okay, then. When do we start?"

"How about tonight?"

"Tonight?" She let out a small eep. "No, no, no. I need some time to, you know, get in the right frame of mind."

"Yeah. That’s part of your problem. You’re overthinking. Driving’s got be like a reflex, you just go for it. So come on, we’ll do it tonight."

He looked so excited she couldn’t really say no, could she? "Alright, but I’m warning you. We need a big field or something. I hit stuff."

~~~~~~~~~~~

The water was cold, but not in the bone-chilling way it was when the weather was mild. No, now the temperature was soothing, a relief to skin left drenched by the unrelenting rays.

Spike had followed her down the path cared her belly. "I usually eat myself sick, with the hamburgers and watermelon and Gram always brings her strawberry shortcake and . . ."

He rolled over on his back. "Sounding good so far."

"It’s fun. The adults sit around talking most of the afternoon, the kids play games, the teenagers just hang. Everyone waits around for it to get dark, then they light the fireworks. They’re amazing, you can see’m for miles around." She rolled over on her towel so she could face him. "So, you are coming?"

"Of course. Have to figure out what makes you Yanks tick, you know, part of the whole reason I came over here."

She rolled her eyes. "You do know it’s a celebration of kicking England’s ass?"

"Not even going to debate the reasons you got lucky with that one."

"Fine, fine." She reached for the lotion and added a little more to the bridge of her nose where she always got a little too much sun. "You get some of this?"

She looked over at his rapidly reddening back. "Spike? Did you not put on sunscreen?"

He glanced back and frowned. "No, didn’t think about it."

She was kneeling by him in a flash. "Stupid man You’re going to be a lobster if you aren’t careful." She squirted the cold lotion on to his back and ignored his exclamation as she stated to rub the cream into his skin.

He had a beautiful back. It was an objective fact. Beautiful the way his muscles rounded over his shoulders across the defined blades that her hands smoothed down to the taper of his waist. She repeated the motion, sliding her hands down, then up, then down, taking her time to spread the lotion evenly across his skin. Because that was all she was doing. Really. Over and over.

Until he rolled over and grabbed her hand mid-swipe, his eyes dark. "What are you playing at, Buffy?"

"N-n-nothing," she stammered.

He searched her eyes for a minute and seemed satisfied. "Sorry, pet. Thanks for putting that on for me."

"You’re welcome." He let her hand go.

The sun was further across the sky now, the shadows starting to lengthen as they sat, locked in the tension of the moment.

"You want let’s cool off again?"

She nodded, and followed him back to the water. There were things going on here that she didn’t understand. Spike had been mercurial all afternoon, bouncing from playful to sullen to guarded and back and she didn’t understand what she was supposed to be doing. Mixed signals.

And they said women were confusing.

"You want to play a game?" she asked.

"Alright. You know how to play Marco Polo?" he answered.

"Of course, silly. Who doesn’t know that one?"

"Good. Let’s play." The sunny smile was back in place now that they were back on their usual turf.

"Who’s it?" She got up from the towels and headed toward the water, leaving the tension behind.

"I’ll be it." He was only steps behind her.

"Alright, but I’m warning you, I’m good at this."

"So am I. Now off with you." He stood waist deep in the water and started counting off as she swam a little ways away.

"Ready?"

She didn’t reply. He smiled. "Marco?"

"Polo." She instantly dived and came up several feet away. "Marco?’

"Polo."

The game continued for several minutes. He was right, he was good, clueing in on the splashes and ripples and honing in on her as she stayed just out of his reach. She was breathless and giggling after his last swipe just caught the string of her swimsuit as she wiggled out of reach. She couldn’t resist sticking out a tongue he couldn’t see as she made her getaway.

Except he’d somehow anticipated her move and made the same turn she did, crying the basket her grandmother had given her along with a measured look which Buffy chose to read as "Be careful and don’t drown," rather than what ever other warning it might have been.

She’d caught just the faintest of protests as they’d headed out the screen door, and her grandfather placating her gran. But she wasn’t going to think about that now. She turned back to Spike.

"The water feels so good right now. Want to go in first?"

He sat down the basket with a shrug. "Suppose so."

Her mouth went dry as she watched him take off the t-shirt he’d worn, leaving him a pair of black trunks and a smile. She realized too late she was gaping and that he’d seen it. He did a slow revolve, stalked towards her like a runway model and then winked.

"See something you like?"

She stuck out her tongue and tried to play off the rising blush. "Just blinded by all the white." She slid her sunglasses down. "Yeah, that cuts the glare."

He snorted and tossed her glasses off her nose. "Yeah, yeah. Alright, you had your peep show, give me mine."

She raised an eyebrow. He raised one back. She reached for the button on her shorts.

And then gasped as she came up sputtering from the shock of being tossed into the cool water. "Spike!"

He was doubled over on the bank laughing as she stalked out of the water. "Oh, you are gonna pay for that, mister."

"Yeah, if you catch me!"

She ignored his plunge into the water as she struggled with the sodden fabric and managed to get the shorts and t-shirt off. She found a branch and hung them over it to dry in the sun before turning back to the river where Spike was lazily floating in the pool of slow running water that curved into the bank.

"You’re in for it now, buddy," she muttered as she waded back into the water as quietly as she could. Apparently not stealthy enough though. He rolled over, still mostly submerged as she headed in his direction.

Something in his expression made her pause as she waded in. For the moment at least, the playful teasing smile he wore so often around her now was gone. In his eyes instead was something that made her supremely aware of herself, of the way his eyes traced the pink top that clung to her breasts and the bottoms that hung on her hips, of the . . . hunger that was there, as though he could devour her with just a look.

And then he ducked under the water and the moment was gone, leaving her shaking her head and wondering if it was just her fevered imagination that left her feeling so hot and bothered. Until something grabbed her foot.

She shrieked and flailed and kicked until he popped up in front of her laughing so hard she thought he would fall over. She helped him out.

When he reemerged, he was still laughing. "You should have seen your face when I came up. Thought the creature from the black lagoon had you or something?"

"Are you crazy? You don’t grab people like that. They could have heart attacks. There are things under the water, Spike."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Fish and . . . and stuff."

"So," he paused for a minute, "let me just get this straight. You’re afraid a big, bad fish is going to come along and do what exactly? Swim by you?"

She crossed her arms. "Still not funny."

"Whatever. Let’s go short . . . just Buffy and have lunch."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So what’s this thing tomorrow going to be like?"

"Oh, the thing in town?"

"Yeah. All stars and stripes and rah, rah, rah?"

She shrugged. "Kind of. It’s more social. They have these goofy contests and stuff, three-legged races and pie-eating contests, things like that. Lots of food." She rubbausing her to stumble right into his outstretched arms with a muffled oof.

"Gotcha," he murmured in her ear as he held her upright while she struggled for her balance in the slick bottom.

"Guess you win." She was caught in his eyes, so close, as his arms banded around her waist and kept them together.

"Guess I do." She knew he must be able to feel her heart, which felt like it was about to jackhammer out of her chest, the slight tremble of her hands as she held on to him and watched his lips move closer to hers. He was going to kiss her. She could feel it.

"You are so very beautiful, Buffy." His lips brushed her ear as he tightened his hold for a brief moment and then set her steadily on her feet. "And so very dangerous."

He turned and backed away, heading towards the shore.

She watched him walk away in disbelief before following. Just as he mounted the bank and reached for his towel, she caught his arm and forced him to face her.

"What was that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"Well, maybe I’m a little slow. Run it by me again. You almost kissed me, Spike."

"Yeah, I did. My apologies, I was out of line." He went back to drying himself off and reached for his shirt.

"Nu-uh, it’s not that simple. Why didn’t you?" She moved closer. "You wanted to. I wanted you to."

He jerked the shirt over his head and shrugged until it settled around his shoulders. "Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll talk."

"Why can’t we talk right now."

His eyes pointedly drifted to her breasts. "Because you’re distracting me."

"And that’s a bad thing?"

He sighed. "Yeah, Buffy it is. Please, be a pet and get dressed and we’ll chat this out."

She felt as though she’d won some sort of victory at his admission and so she complied. Her clothes were dry now, if wrinkled, and she slid them over the swimsuit as she made her way back to where he was sitting on the bank, feet dangling in the water.

It reminded her of the night they became friends.

She settled beside him.

"How old are you Buffy?"

"Seventeen, you know that."

"And how old am I?"

"Twenty-one."

"Where do you live?"

"Los Angeles."

"And where do I?"

"Spike, this is stupid."

"Just answer the question."

"London."

He nodded as though he’d made his point.

"Spike, that’s why you won’t kiss me? Cause you’re a couple of years older and you don’t live around here? That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. Why Gramps is years older than Gram, like ten or something and it’s not like you’re in London now, and . . ."

And then he was kissing her and the whole world stopped. As first kisses went, it was more than memorable. The gentle slide of his mouth across hers, the way his tongue sipped at her lips, causing her to sigh and pull him closer. And then the world spun faster as he groaned into her mouth and the soft kiss spiraled into something harsher and wilder. She felt the grass at her back and her fingers clutching in his hair, trying to draw him even closer as everything in the universe narrowed to the touch and taste and feel of his lips on hers.

And then she was bereft, alone as he dragged himself away and shakily put a few feet between them, a slight tremble in his hand as he ran it shakily through his hair revealing that she wasn’t the only one affected by what had just happened.

He steadied himself before he spoke quietly, still not meeting her gaze. "That’s why Buffy. Because it’s not just all of the above. If that’s all it was, I probably would have kissed you before. But this, between us, this is playing with fire."

He turned eyes on her that seemed strangely old. "You don’t want to be burned now, do you?"

Chapter 5

The Fourth of July was always something of a high water mark for the summer, the turning point where the days grew numbered and the start of school and return to home became a looming reality. And yet it was always something Buffy looked forward to, for the small town brought out their patriotic fervor in fine array for the day, hosting an old-fashioned parade and festival which culminated in the big fireworks display that could be seen for miles, held at the local high school ball field.

It was a day that in years past had been filled with memories of watermelon and fresh grilled burgers, strange and goofy contests, the pie competition where her Gram always brought home a colorful ribbon, and the sheer exuberance of the day. A throwback to things she didn’t ever recall seeing in the more jaded L.A. suburbs where she lived the rest of the year.

And while this year was exciting for all the same reasons, there was one more that Buffy could not deny. William.

Yesterday had been a revelation. That kiss. She touched her fingers to her lips for a moment. That kiss had blown her away with the possibilities. And while he might say that it was playing with fire, she wanted to feel that heat.

She wanted to make him burn.

She took one final look in the mirror and blew herself an approving kiss. The white halter top was just low enough to hint at cleavage without getting too much of an evil eye from her grandmother she hoped, and her red shorts . . . well, she hoped she could slide in the car before anyone noticed their length or lack thereof. Bright red lipstick a shade darker than she normally wore outlined her lips and she’d darkened her lashes with the new mascara she’d gotten the week before at the drugstore in town.

She debated over the hair, but had finally decided on an upswept ponytail, even if it did make her look a little younger. Yes, she was pleased with the effect and hoped Spike would be goaded into a reaction.

Buffy trotted down the stairs and out the door to where her Gram was putting the final container of food for the picnic into the backseat of the car.

"Ready to go dear?"

"Sure am." Buffy peered into the back seat and made a face. "Gram, where am I gonna sit? Do I have to hold that stuff in my lap?"

"Why don’t you just ride with William, sweetheart." Her grandfather settled the last container and gestured to Spike who’d just joined them, keys to the Desoto dangling in his hand.

"Sure, you can catch a lift with me, Buffy." She turned to find Spike behind her, clad in faded jeans that looked so worn she was sure they’d be soft to the touch and a black t-shirt that defined his arms, and tried to not visibly suck in her breath at the perfection.

Her Gram was busy rearranging dishes for maximum space and barely glanced up. "That’s an excellent idea, William, if you don’t mind. We’ll meet you at the fairgrounds, alright?"

"Sure thing, Gram."

Buffy tried to control the bounce in her step as she headed for the car.

"Your chariot, my lady."

She slid inside and immediately yelped as her bare legs came into contact with the hot seat.

He laughed as he closed the driver’s door. "What you expect with shorts like that, shortcake? No protection." He winked at her and slid his arm around the back of the seat as he turned to back out of the yard.

He seemed relaxed, as if last night had never happened. She was a little confused by his nonchalance, but hey, it was better than back to the silent treatment. She noticed him glance over at her legs as he finished backing down the driveway and smiled. Oh yeah, it was working.

"Mind it we listen to some tunes?" She hid her grin and reached over to snap on the radio as they started down the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gramps and Gram were already at the fairground when they arrived, and though there was a brief raise of eyebrow by her grandmother as she actually got a good look at Buffy’s outfit, lunch went smoothly.

Buffy wandered the area set up for the fair, taking in the sights and sounds, but keeping an eye out for Spike, who’d slipped off after they’d eaten, saying he could use a break from the colonials celebrating kicking his country’s arse. She’d expected him to be back by now, but where ever he’d disappeared to, he’d done a good job of it.

As the hours slipped by, she started getting concerned until she spotted him in a group gathered by some picnic tables. His bright head stood out in the crowd and she headed towards the group until she realized he was talking to Faith.

She stopped, watching from the distance as the girl batted her eyes and pressed up against him casually as he sat chatting with a group of some of the day laborers who worked on occasion for her grandfather doing odd jobs around the vineyard. Spike leaned down to whisper something in Faith’s ear and Buffy could hear her low throaty laugh in response to the suggestion, then watched the flirtatious way she squeezed his arm.

She turned and walked back towards the main area, seeing red. It was like being kicked in the pit of the stomach, like having your balloon popped when you were four. Just bam, everything gone. All her stupid daydreams about how he’d be so wowed by her today had deflated in a second. She was never going to get anywhere with Spike, not in that way. He’d put her in her place, declared her too young and moved on to other, she tossed a furious glance over her shoulder at the still nuzzling pair, well-grazed pastures.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice Owen right in front of her. Owen was a local boy, one of the few her age, and her grandmother had already made several comments about the nice young man of the Thurber family who’d been asking about her. Buffy remembered him from a year ago, a gangly, pimpled guy who’d seemed inclined to hang with his buddies and shuffle his feet when he was around her.

But apparently the year had been good to Owen as well, for the guy in front of her hardly fit the same image. Taller, he’d filled out nicely, with a football player’s physique quite different from Spike’s lean . . . she shook her head. She wasn’t going to do that. Spike had made it pretty clear how he felt, over there cannodling with little miss ho-bag, and there was quite a hunk standing in front of her saying her name at this very moment.

"Buffy? Buffy? You in there?"

She batted her eyes and gave him a sweet smile. "Well hello, Owen, how have you been?"

She managed one quick glance in Spike’s direction as Owen led her off to the picnic table where some of the other teens were sprawled and was surprised to see him staring in her direction. She gave one final toss of her head and slid her arm through Owen’s, giving it a little squeeze and trying not to grimace at Owen’s rather direct glance down her cleavage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Owen was clearly proud to have her on his arm, and wasted no time in stopping by the table where her grandparents sat conversing with another older couple in the shade of a broad-limbed tree.

"Mrs. Summers, would you mind if Buffy goes with the rest of us to watch the fireworks out by the dam?" He’d smiled sincerely as he promised to take good care of her and bring her home right after.

As they started to walk away, her grandmother called out to her, "Buffy, can I speak with you for just a moment?" She pulled her aside. "Now, since it’s a holiday and such, if you’d like, you can stay out a bit later with the group tonight."

"Um, Grammy, is the heat getting to you?"

Her grandmother laughed. "No dear, I just remember what it was like to be young once, with a handsome young man wanting to squire me around. You go and have a good time with Owen. Just be sure to be home by midnight, alright?"

"Alright, Gram." Buffy hugged her before she trotted back over to the group of teens.

The afternoon hours passed and the sun began to wane as families started to pack up in preparation for the evening show. Owen suggested they head on out to the lake and Buffy took a last swig of the Coke he’d brought her and tugged down her shorts just a little as she trailed along with the group towards the parking lot. She halted her new date.

"Hey Owen, I’ll meet you out there, I just need to drop by the little girl’s room."

"Sure, Buff, I’m in the blue pick-up."

She nodded and visited the facilities, checking her hair and touching up her lipstick in the mirror. This was a welcome distraction. Who needed Spike anyway? Like he had the market cornered or something. Owen was cute enough and obviously interested. It was nice to be wanted.

Would Owen try to kiss her tonight? She imagined that he would, he’d been acting possessive, keeping an arm around her as they’d talked with his friends. She’d been flattered at first, glad to find someone who appreciated her, but the novelty had worn off a little over the course of the afternoon. He was just a little too big, too smothering. Not like someone else’s lithe body, pulling her into his embrace . . . She clamped down on that traitorous train of thought. She wouldn’t even begin to ponder that other kiss still lingering in her mind.

She’d just exited the bathrooms when an arm she recognized impeded her path.

"Well, well, well, if it isn’t the social butterfly. Where’d your boy toy go to?"

She tossed her head, secretly delighted he’d come to find her. "Oh please, Spike, he’s just giving me a ride up to the lake to watch the fireworks."

He tugged her arm and pulled her around the side of the building where they were shielded from view. She tilted her head up to look at him, surprised by how dark his eyes had turned as he searched her face for something, what exactly she wasn’t sure.

"Do you want to go with him Buffy?"

His proximity was making it hard to breathe, as he boxed her in with his arms on either side of her against the wall, leaning in closer.

"I, I, guess so. It’s not like I have anything better to do."

He leaned back a little at that. "Touché, shortcake, touché."

"And stop calling me that!"

"What, shortcake?"

"Yes." She straightened up, memories of him practically nuzzling Faith earlier in the day returning. "I’m not a dessert."

"Oh, but you look sweet enough to eat."

She was nearly certain her knees started to buckle when he purred those words in her ear, but she knew she was in trouble as his finger slid teasingly along the hem of her red shorts.

"These are the color of those luscious red strawberries that grow in that field by the stream, just waiting to be plucked and eaten. And this," the same finger followed the plunging neckline of her halter top, teasing just beneath the edge, "is like the sweet whipped cream covering it all up, ready to be licked off and savored."

Her eyes fluttered shut, unable to do more than listen to the silken tones until she felt his finger brush against her lips, outlying the contours she’d just traced with her crimson lipstick. "And these, these are like sin incarnate, just begging a man to nibble on them. You taste so sweet, Buffy. Did you know you taste like strawberries?"

And then he kissed her and everything else just faded away. In later years she’d try to remember what it had been like, that kiss. It had been prefect, she remembered that, the way he traced her lips with his tongue, teasing his way inside. Their bodies had slid together as though made to fit each other and she’d whimpered and pushed closer as the intensity of the kiss had grown, his hands tangling in her hair, her hands sliding against his shirt, wanting to touch the smooth skin underneath more than anything. He groaned something unintelligible into her mouth as she rocked against him, sliding her leg up and around his hip as he ground against her, devouring her mouth as his fingers brushed the sides of her breasts.

She’d never felt more alive, more perfect, more complete at that moment until he suddenly jerked away and stepped back, panting, as she leaned back against the wall, trying to stay upright.

And then she realized why he’d pulled away.

"Buffy? You okay in there?" Owen’s voice drifted around the corner and she remained quiet, searching Spike’s gaze for some clue as to what was going on in his mind until she heard Owen walk away. Spike stepped forward and gently wiped away a smudge of her now smeared lipstick with his thumb. She could feel her whole body leaning towards him as though there were a magnetic pull between them.

"What am I doing?" he asked softly.

"I don’t know, what are you doing?"

"Making a mistake I’ll probably regret. You’re so damn young, Buffy, why do you have to get under my skin this way?"

He stepped away again, putting some distance between them. "Go with your friends."

"What do you mean, go with my friends? You pull me back here, kiss me like that, and tell me to just go on, and that’s that?"

He was back on her in an instant, pressing her against the wall and she gloried in the feel of him. "No that’s most definitely not that. But this is not the time nor the place for us to have this conversation. And if we stay back here, we’re likely to do something we’ll regret later. So you go with your friends, watch the damn show, and then come see me when you get home."

Her heart was jackhammering as his words sank in. He wanted her to come to him tonight. His tone told her he’d make good on the promise in the kiss if she’d only be patient, and she knew she could wait. He was right, this wasn’t the place. But come hell or high water, she’d be in his room later tonight.

"You’d better go before the big lug you’re with calls out the troops. I’ll look for you tonight and we’ll hash this out." He stopped her as she moved to leave. "Oh and Buffy? Don’t let him kiss you."

She smiled. "Want to give me some incentive not to?"

He growled and pulled her into a final breathless kiss which had her ready to beg him to take her back out to the farm this minute. When he finally released her, she managed to give him the promise he’d asked for.

"No kissing. I think I can handle that."

"Good, I’ll see you tonight, shortcake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’d made another quick run into the ladies room to fix her disheveled ponytail and smudged lipstick before meeting the others in the parking lot. The remainder of the evening was pleasant, and Owen had been polite, but she could tell he was disappointed when she fended off his advances and claimed a headache from too many sweets that day. He dutifully drove her home after the fireworks ended at ten and she was excited to see her grandparents were also making a late night of it and hadn’t made it back yet.

The only car in the drive was the Desoto.

Her heart felt like it might explode into a shower of brightly lit sparks, like those she’d just spent the last few minutes watching, as she walked straight to the small garage apartment and knocked softly on the door. He opened it and she stepped inside.

Chapter 6

He stared at the amber liquid for a long time before he poured another drink. Knowing it was probably the worst of worst ideas, but he couldn’t resist. The fireworks had stopped a few minutes before, the pops and whistles fading away now into the usual almost silence of the farm at night.

She’d be here soon.

He been trying to suss out exactly what had happened this afternoon for the longest time now. Why had he followed her when he’d seen her with that poncy git? Nice little farm boy like that, ‘bout her age, it was exactly what Buffy needed.

Not someone like him.

But he couldn’t let well enough alone. Oh no. Despite his best efforts to put her off yesterday afternoon, he’d make a mistake with that kiss that had haunted him all night.

By the look on her face when she’d slid into the car this morning, she’d seen it as more of a challenge than anything. He’d resisted temptation at first, though he was hardly oblivious to the clear effort she’d made. But he’d kept his cool, enjoyed the spectacle and the food, and then promptly extracted himself from her presence. Because if he’d had to look at that halter top just low enough to keep him sneaking yet another peak at her soft cleavage any longer, he’d have lost it.

So he’d taken off and low and behold, the perfect distraction. Faith. Not one to hold a grudge apparently for him bailing out on their date and then never calling again. No, she’d been just a friendly as ever, though something along the lines of a cat in heat was probably the fairest description.

And it had worked for a bit. Warm, willing, slightly older, clearly well-versed in the ways of the world. Not an innocent baby who swallowed him up with her enormous green eyes and made him feel like he was someone special.

He didn’t want to be that someone. He hadn’t been that innocent in years.

So yeah, he’d seen her catch sight of them, taken in her hurt little gaze and the little snoot of her nose as she walked away. And he’d thought the problem was solved. She’d be angry with him when she got home, probably give him the silent treatment for a day or two, but she’d have gotten the message loud and clear.

And then he had to go and bollix it all up.

It had been hard to miss the farm boy who’d swooped in on her, the way he’d sized up her assets and swiftly made his move. Her quick take to the kid had surprised him a little, though he’d caught her glancing his way once, a toss of her head that said two can play at this game. And then she seemed to forget him, pranced off, clinging to the whelp’s arm as though he were God’s gift or something.

They’d done the rounds, stopped for approval from the grandparents, who were all smiles and waves as the pair set off. Faith’s tongue had been in his ear at that point, and her hand suggestively moving on his thigh in a way that should have entirely put Buffy from his mind. He’d tried to focus on her, and the no strings attached night she was offering him with a low whisper in his ear.

But all he’d been able to do was watch those bright red shorts strut towards the bathrooms while the boy ogled her rear. And in that instant, something had snapped.

He’d pulled away from the limpet attached to his neck. Faith was left looking pissed off at his abrupt disengagement, but he’d managed to get out some halfway plausible excuse to make a hasty exit in time to waylay Buffy before she rejoined her date.

She’d looked stunning as she walked out, lips freshly crimson, hair swinging just so. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from pulling her round the corner to hide them from prying eyes. Hadn’t been able to resist the lure of her sweet lips again.

But he also hadn’t expected the powerful reaction, the way she’d molded herself to him, meeting him with a matching hunger that told him this was a lost battle and he might as well surrender. If he were honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop their clinch from reaching its logical conclusion if he hadn’t heard the boy coming back for her, and that knowledge had sobered him, despite several drinks to blur the reality.

Because he wasn’t looking for that. For someone with the kind of power that could make him lose himself entirely in her. He’d been down that road, learned the hard way that pinning your hopes on one person was a fool’s idea of happiness.

And in a strange way, he wanted to protect Buffy from that as well. This thing between them wasn’t one-sided, she was as susceptible as he was to the undertow that could pull them down. And she deserved better than that, better than him, for the first bloke she fancied herself in love with.

Except right now, she couldn’t see that.

He stubbed out the solitary smoke he’d allowed himself inside tonight. It wouldn’t be long now. And he still had no idea what to do.

The knock on the door startled him out of his reverie and he tossed back the dregs from his glass and moved to open it..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was backlit by the lamp glowing in the room, a haze around him as he leaned in the doorway and smiled down at her. Her stomach was doing those little back flip things that made her feel like she might lose her lunch or might learn to fly, she wasn’t sure which at the moment. He was so beautiful.

He stepped back and gestured. "Come in, Buffy."

The way he said her name, that slight inflection his accent gave it, made it seem less stupid, almost exotic to her ears. He rarely used it, favoring her with every nickname in the book when he teased. But now, now he was regarding her steadily, seriously.

She’d thought about him all evening, closing her eyes and reliving this afternoon, the way he’d smelled, the slide of his hands on her, the groan he’d made as she’d moved against him. Owen had nudged her a few times to keep her with the flow of the conversation and she’d tried not to appear too spacey in front of the others. But she’d really just been counting the minutes until the final red tendrils of fire died away across the sky and she would be with him.

She’d imagined it differently though. Him sweeping her through the door, carrying her to the bed, laying her down, like a good Harlequin romance novel. Which she knew was sort of cheesy, but she wasn’t really sure what would happen at that point. Well, she knew the technicalities and terminology for it all, thanks to good old sex ed class and her mom’s blushing birds and the bees talk, but her knowledge of how it all actually went down was based on a blurry mix of second-hand conversations and rumors she’d always thought maybe weren’t true.

She shifted nervously and wished they could just skip straight to the kissing. When he kissed her, she didn’t, couldn’t think really, it was all about the sensations. But this, this was scary. She tried to swallow, wished she had some water or something, because her mouth seemed was so dry.

But instead he seemed to want to talk. Talk? Huh? Where were the heaving bosoms and thrusting members? Wasn’t that how this was supposed to go now? He’d seated himself at the table and poured another glass of the whiskey, gesturing her to the other seat.

"Thirsty, kitten?"

She wasn’t really sure she could stomach the hard liquor at the moment, she was already on a bit of a roller coaster ride. "Um, no, I think I’ll be okay."

He grinned and chuckled a little and she felt herself start to relax. "Wasn’t trying to get you schnockered there pet. I have some cola."

She brightened at that. "Oh, yes, please, that’d be good."

He poured her a glass. She continued to shift nervously in her seat until he slid it in front of her. She took a big gulp, refreshing her throat, then placed the glass back down as he leaned forward, reaching for her hand.

He slid his fingers around her wrist, seeming fascinated with its slimness and bone structure as he traced the skin above her pulse point in a way that made goose pimples stand up all over her skin. She almost jumped when he finally spoke.

"Buffy, what are you after here?"

The dry mouth was back. "W-what do you mean?"

"I mean what’s this thing we’re playing at? Just wanting a few smooches, some good stories to carry back to your buds? Little bit of slap and tickle? Something . . . else?"

"Oh." Slap and tickle? "Oh. Um, no, I mean, I don’t know, it’s not that, I mean, I haven’t really thought about it like that." She cursed her tongue and brain for sounding entirely incoherent at the question.

He nodded. "Didn’t much think so. You know what I think?" He was still keeping her enthralled with his gentle movements on her wrist.

"What?"

"I think there’s something between us. An attraction, yeah?"

She nodded, "Uh-huh."

"But I also think that could give us some problems, what with us being friends and all. Because we are, aren’t we Buffy? Friends, that is?"

"Yes. But does that mean we couldn’t be something else?"

"Like what?"

She searched her brain. What was the phrase she’d heard Cordelia toss out? Right, she had it. "Couldn’t we be friends with benefits?"

He laughed a little at that. "Well, well, never underestimate today’s youth I suppose. So is that what you want Buffy, a friend who you can play with?" The way he caressed the word play almost made her shiver at all its implications.

"I, I think so."

He watched her eyes until she started to lower them a little, then caught her chin and lifted her face so she couldn’t hide from him. "You sure that’s all you want, nothing . . . deeper?"

She couldn’t quite decipher what he was trying to say to her. There was something in his tone, in the nuances of that word that caused her breath to hitch just a little at the wealth of possibilities that it held.

"I’m not sure."

He leaned back then and she followed him forward, wanting his touch, even the slightest contact back as he returned to toying with his glass.

"Well, that’d be the problem here, pet. You don’t know precisely what you want. And that’s how someone ends up getting hurt." He tilted his head and his eyes softened as he tried to make it easier. "You know that Buffy, we’ve both seen it."

"But Spike, who would get hurt, if we both, you know, want to do stuff?" She gave a little gasp. "Oh, do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, no girlfriend. But there are other people involved who could get hurt here." She looked puzzled until he pointed at her and then him. "Maybe you, maybe me."

She bit her lip. "Does this mean you don’t want me then?" She knew her voice sounded small, almost pathetic, but she couldn’t help it. Her eyes were closed tightly, not wanting to see his face. All her pretty daydreams were rapidly disintegrating and she was starting to think this was yet another one of his attempts to talk circles around her as a fancy way of rejecting her. She wished he’d just said that from the start.

He was on his knees in front of her chair, her face in his hands before she could move. "Does this feel like I don’t want you?"

His tongue traced her lower lip gently where her teeth were still embedded and she whimpered just a little at the soothing contact. He pulled her to the edge of the seat with one hand, while the other tangled in the end of her ponytail and guided her head towards his slanted mouth.

It wasn’t quite like either time he’d kissed her before. Not new and unexpected. Not wild and dangerous. It was gentler, reassuring, and yet she could feel her whole body softening towards him as he tilted her head back and kissed a trail down to her collarbone, murmuring something against her skin that she couldn’t quite make out, but that set her blood to racing at the vibrations of his lips on her sensitive skin. She shivered against him and tried to pull him closer as she ran her hand over his shoulders to the muscles in his back, bunching and tensing beneath his skin.

They sat that way for a long time, her holding him against her, feeling his heart beating against her body, his lips still buried against her throat as their breathing gradually slowed from the initial rush.

She slowly pulled away and raised his head, "Spike, I don’t understand what’s going on here. You’re confusing me. Why don’t you tell me what you want?"

He smiled and she was more than a little distracted as he nuzzled her just a bit without replying and then she caught herself and pulled his head back up again.

"No way, mister. Don’t be distracting me like that."

She got the full on Spike power grin that time and it was kind of blinding as he traced the neckline of her halter again. She had to congratulate herself on the wardrobe choice, he’d definitely seemed taken with the outfit.

"Like you weren’t trying to be distracting all day in this?"

She had to smirk a little at that. "Maybe. What makes you think I wore it for you? Maybe it was for Owen."

He shot her a disbelieving look and goosed her ribs just a bit, enough to get a giggle and a swat out of her. "That’s the git’s name? Pfft, you expect me to believe that?"

"Conceited much? You think it’s all about you?" He flexed his fingers again and she squirmed. "Okay, okay, I thought you might like."

"Oh, I do very, very much."

And then they were kissing again and somehow the tie on the halter had started to loosen as his fingers grazed the sides of her breast gently. She gasped a little as he palmed the soft mound in his hand, smoothing and caressing the underslope in a way that made her toes tingle with anticipation of where he might touch her next.

He pulled back with a visible effort as she caught the top before it fell down entirely and held it to her breasts. He was breathing hard and she felt a little thrill of satisfaction that she’d done that.

"This wasn’t how I planned it."

She arched an eyebrow, "Really, how did you plan it?"

"We were going to chat things out, get clear on where we stood."

She sensed more talking coming up and tried to head things off. "I thought we did that already. Remember? You over there, me over here." She wrinkled her nose. "Not of the good."

"Maybe not, but Buffy, I don’t want to hurt you. Do you understand that? I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep, and the end of the summer will come before we know it."

He was deadly serious, and a part of her knew that he was right to be concerned, to lay some ground rules between them. It was oddly touching that he cared enough to want her to understand he couldn’t promise her some kind of big uber love thing.

She reached out and cupped his face. "I get it. You can’t promise me forever. You’re not gonna be my one and only. I know that Spike. I’m seventeen, not stupid. I don’t want that either. Friends with benefits, remember?"

He leaned into her hand, his eyes still locked with hers. "You sure about that?"

She nodded. "I’m not as good with words as you." She tapped his lips lightly with her finger and giggled as his tongue gave a quick swipe that caught the tip. "You on the other hand sometimes don’t know when to shut up. But yeah, I’m sure. Spike, I like you. You’re gorgeous, you’re fun to hang with, and your kisses are um . . ."

"Amazing?"

She rolled her eyes. "Did I mention conceited? But yes, amazing. I like this. I don’t have expectations or whatever it is you’re afraid of, okay? We’re clear."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She seemed so calm when she said it, and he really did believe she meant it. She didn’t know what it was like to have love consume you, it was all a bit of a game with her. And he wasn’t planning on being a fool again and make it anything other than that to him. He’d tread lightly on her heart, enjoy snogging her and no one would be the worse come September.

"Well then, since we’ve established I don’t know when to shut up, I think I’ll try to change my reputation a bit and prove you wrong."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stood and caught her up in his arms to carry her over to his bed, where they both landed in a heap as he tossed her onto the mattress. She laughed and pulled him closer.

"So what are you doing now."

"Gonna teach you how to have a good long snog."

He had to laugh at the look on her face.

"Um, a what?"

"Let’s see, what’s the American term, ah, yes, make out, I think. Not as economical a phrase, takes time away from the important stuff."

He was worrying her earlobe now and she had to agree. Less talky, more kissy was good in her book.

She was just about to tug his tee-shirt from his jeans so she could explore the chest she’d admired so the day before when the sound of a car turning into the drive startled them both.

He rolled off the bed and peered out the window towards the driveway.

"Pet, I believe your Grands are home."

She was already up, refastening the halter more securely and sliding her sandals back on.

"I’ll go in the back." She stopped and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "See you in the morning, Spike. Best Fourth ever."

And then she was gone, slipping quietly out the door and around the back. He saw the faint movement behind her window screen and then a quick wave that let him know she’d made it, as the Summers continued talking quietly and carrying in the remains of the day’s feast from the car around front.

They were a factor he’d forgotten about for a while, and he still felt that Mrs. Summers in particular wouldn’t appreciate his courting of her little girl, even if he had the best of honorable intentions. Which he didn’t. He’d be willing to bet a good bit that the friends with benefits line wouldn’t hold much water with her. Well, that was a bridge they’d cross when they came to it.

For now, he had the rest of the night to dream of Buffy. And, he adjusted his jeans that had been unbelievably tight for most of the last hour, to take care of more pressing matters.




TBC...