Tongued Impatience
Part 5-8


Written by: Amber & Daquiri


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

Summary: Spike takes Buffy on a date! Takes place after "Gone".
Disclaimer: We don't own the characters, we're just borrowing them.
Notes: To the people on the island: This is dedicated to you. Thank you all for your patience - we didn't mean to leave you (not to mention Buffy and Spike) in suspense for that long. Keep smiling and buying those lottery tickets.
Feedback: We love feedback! Tell us what you think at amber_daquiri@hotmail.com


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

Chapter 5: Tender Interlude


br>He'd been out there for about fifteen minutes now. Buffy could hear him, pacing around on the porch. She wondered if he was waiting for an invitation, but since when had a lack of welcome stopped him? Neither of them ever waited for an invitations; they usually just barged right in. Sometimes they used excuses - her to pump him for information, while Spike liked the tried and true, but convenient 'burning up in the sun, ow the pain the pain' excuse.

Of course, the sun had been down for an hour or two now. She wondered if he was having trouble thinking up a new witty-yet-coolly-detached excuse. The footsteps paused outside the kitchen door. Buffy could hear mumbling, interspersed with a few, "Bugger me," and "Soddin' Bint". "The Poofter" followed by, "Bloody grand-sire" had Buffy muffling a snort behind her hand.

Buffy hung up the phone after noting the time. If the pizza guy wasn't here with her large veggie in thirty-five minutes she would have to go out and look for him. Going over to the door Buffy, decided to let Spike in before he wore a track in her porch with his continuous pacing.

No sooner had she opened the kitchen door, than Dawn miraculously appeared at her elbow.

"Spike!"

Spike smiled. It was a genuinely happy smile, but because it was Spike, it involved an unsettling amount of toothiness.

"Niblet," he said cordially, by way of greeting, as he entered the kitchen, Buffy scowled.

"Spike. What do you want?" There was none of the usual harshness in Buffy's tone.

He raised a sardonic eyebrow in her direction. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, luv. Came to see if you wanted to, um, patrol." Buffy hoped Dawn hadn't noticed leer that flashed across his face.

"Spike, I just ordered a pizza for Dawn and me. We were going to have a quiet night. In the house. Just Dawn and I. There will be no twisted knickers." Buffy abruptly shut up when she saw the confused look from her sister and the bemused one from her lov--from the vampire.

"Spike, I never see you any more. Why don't you come and hang with me?" Dawn asked, a whine subtly creeping into her request. "Have I done something wrong? I know you and Buffy don't get along all that well, but you were getting better. Why don't you like me any more?" There were tears threatening that Spike had no idea how to deal with.

"I, I still---Nib--It's not you, it's me. I still want to be with you, it's just that--" Spike broke off, unsure how to tell Dawn that, while he wanted to spend time with her, he was now sleeping with her sister and it was complicated. "I miss you, Lil' Bit. I miss breakin' and enterin' with you luv. I'm sorry I haven't been spending any time with you of late."

Buff threw up her hands in disgust, seeing that she was clearly outnumbered, "Why don't you join us for dinner?" she asked, her tone indicating that she was clearly unhappy with the prospect.

"Thanks ever so," Spike pointedly ignored the ungraciousness of the offer, happy to spend any amount of time with 'his' girls.

- - - -

Buffy's groan filled the air, "I swear I am never eating five pieces of all dressing pizza again!" She paused to take a sip of Sprite. "And this time, dammit, I mean it!" She scowled at the TV and added, "And next time I get to pick the movies!"

"Cor sweetness, what's wrong with this flick? It's bloody brilliant!" Spike loved to hate the dark haired girl in it. It was irrational, but still there was something that drew him and repelled him at the same time.

"For the love of all that is holly and unholly, Dawn has made me watch 'Bring It On', like, a hundred times! This is the last time!" Buffy hated the movie, there was just something about the dark-haired girl and one of the blondes...

"Buffy's just jealous because she was never good enough to be a cheerleader once we moved to Sunnydale." Dawn was busy snagging another piece of pizza, so she missed Spike's groan.

"I am not jealous...!" Buffy exclaimed, diving for her sister, across Spike, who happened to be between them.

"She was a cheerleader when we lived in LA, you should have seen how she could do the splits," Dawn continued, dodging Buffy's grab. "I guess it helped her with the Slayer stuff." Spike shifted on the couch, trying to relive some of the discomfort of jeans, which were rapidly becoming too tight under the warm weight of his Slayer.

The Slayer was squirming enthusiastically across his lap, which didn't help any, trying to keep hold of a struggling Dawn. Dawn laughed, breaking free, leaving Spike with a lapful of off-balance Buffy. Spike tried to steady her, but she over-compensated and landed on him, hard. Both let out groans, for different yet amazingly similar reasons.

Dawn stood over them, hands on hips, laughing as she surveyed her handiwork. "You guys are so cute," she told them. At one point Dawn would have felt jealous, but now she just wanted her friend to be happy. "I mean, really, you guys look comfortable."

Buffy whipped around to face her sister, alarmed. "Cute? What? I was just... There will be no cute!" She attempted to jump up but found herself unable to leave the blond vampire's lap. Spike was still hand a hand around her waist, caressing her hip absentmindedly. "Quit that," she told him, trying to look severe. Spike was grinning at her.

"It's so nice that you're not mad at Spike any more, Buffy," Dawn continued brightly. "I was hoping you guys would make up." Dawn had noticed the covert looks and small touches between her sister and the vampire and wondered at them. Buffy and Spike were acting differently around each other, and both avoid mentioning the other at all costs when they were apart. "I'm going to make some popcorn before the next movie," she said. "Any requests while I'm in the kitchen?"

"Do you have any cocoa with the little marshmallows?" Spike asked. Buffy let out an unladylike snort and Dawn just smirked at him. Spike frowned in mock- offence. "I *like* marshmallows. They look like little lumps of marrow floating in my chocolate. Plus they're nice and squishy, like marrow."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Gross much? I don't know why I let you in my house. And Dawn, Spike and I didn't make ou--up, we had nothing to make up over. There was nothing, we're just friends."

Dawn nodded. "Friends," she repeated, clearly not believing a word. "Whatever, Buffy." With that the teenager made her escape to the kitchen.

In the kitchen Dawn made a lot of noise as she set about putting the popcorn in the microwave and putting milk in a sauce pan on the stove. Appliances on, doing their job she snuck back to peek into the living room.

Her sister was still on the blonde vampire's lap, though now she had her left arm around his neck, and her right hand was caressing his cheek softly. They were gazing into each other's eyes, with looks of tenderness and love. And that was the shocker. Dawn had expected to see love on Spike's face, but she saw it in Buffy too. Every movement was tender, loving. The kiss Dawn observed her slowly placing on Spike's lips was full of such sweetness.

Spike ran a hand through the Slayer's much shorter golden locks, "I'm sorry," she said. "It'll grow back to the way you liked it." The light dawned as Dawn realized that Buffy's sudden hatchet job had had something to do with the man whose lap she was sitting on. "I wasn't quite myself," Buffy told him, making a face. "After the Social Services woman threatened to take Dawn, and I was so confused about everything..."

"It's all right, luv. I like it," he leaned forward, his lips grazing Buffy's swanlike neck. "I can taste you better this way." With a mock growl, Spike bared his blunt teeth and pretended to attack Buffy's neck.

Dawn was shocked. They had threatened to take her away? Not to mention money worries. Add to the fact that her sister seemed to be having a secret relationship with another vampire. No wonder Buffy had been so distracted lately.

In the other room the microwave beeped, indicating that the popcorn was done. Reluctantly Dawn returned to the kitchen, pondering what she had seen and heard.

When she came out, however, Buffy and Spike were still entangled. Were they deaf? She thought throwing the sauce pan into the sink would have been enough noise to wake the dead, or in this case get the undead's mouth off her sister's neck.

It wasn't like she hadn't given them plenty of warning. She cleared her throat. "Um, guys, sorry to interrupt, but..." Vampire and Slayer sprang apart guiltily, Buffy blushing furiously. She had a hickey on her neck, above what Dawn realized were newly-healed bite marks. Well, well, that was interesting; she had never had those with Angel.

"Hi Dawnie, it's not what it--I was--Spike was just checking..." Buffy stammered then shot her co-kisser a pleading look.

"He was checking what Buffy? Your iron levels?" Dawn thought that if Spike could blush he would be bright red right now. As it was her sister was red enough for both of them.

"I was just helping your sis get something out of her, um, eye," Spike suggested, lamely.

"Spike, I expected more from you," chided Dawn. "Last I checked people's eyes weren't in the side of their necks. I can see the bite marks on her neck." Both Buffy and Spike exchanged guilty glances and looked blankly at the television which was playing an infomercial.

"Let's watch the other movie," Buffy suggested after an uncomfortable silence. Spike stood up, gently lifting Buffy and placing her on the couch. He figured that Buffy was too embarassed - at least, he hoped it was embarassment and not shame - to talk to her little sis. It was his fault they had gotten caught - Buffy had said she heard something, but he had brushed her protests aside.

"Give me the tray, Lunchable." Dawn handed Spike the antique wooden tray that carried three mugs of cocoa, with the little marshmallows, and a big bowl of chips. Spike turned around and set the tray on the coffee table then sat down next to Buffy.

"You're not a child any more, Nibblet, no matter how much your big sis and I wish it. What you saw, well, you saw--" Spike broke off, this was going to be harder then he thought. What was it with the Summers women that made him feel like the tongue-tied poet he had been before his turning?

Dawn broke in, smiling. This was too cute for words. "It's okay, Spike," she said. "You're sleeping with my sister. I guessed. You don't need to do the awkward explanation thing. Sex Ed has come a long way since you were human and all they said was close your eyes and think of England."

Spike ran his fingers through his hair. If he breathed, he would have sighed with relief. Buffy didn't look as though she felt any better. His heart sank. If Buffy couldn't face her sister with this then there was no hope, and he had been deluding himself.

"We're not sleeping together," she said, and with Buffy's words Spike's heart shattered, hope dying like a flower without water under the hot July sun. "That's such a shallow term for what we're doing," she continued. "It's not just about sex."

The words trickled through Spike's hazed mind. What had she just said? With sheer force of will Spike listened through a haze as his Slayer defended what they had together.

"Spike is more then just convenient, more than just my lover. He's my friend, my saviour. Besides you he was the only one I could talk to when I got back. He was the only one I could relate to. Now we've changed, we're more than just reluctant allies and grudging friends, we're together in every way." As Buffy spoke she realized she meant each and every one of those words, to the very depth of her soul They might fight, the might say they hated each other, but deep down, it had always come down to Spike in the end.

Dawn listened with growing delight. "I'm so happy for you guys!" she exclaimed, when Buffy was done. She threw herself at her surprised sister and the vampire, hugging them both.

Spike was completely stunned - he had no idea that Buffy had felt that way about him. They were going to have a long talk after Dawn went to bed. Holding 'his' girls tightly for one more moment, he released Dawn after brushing a cool kiss on her forehead. "Why don't you pop that other video in, Platelet?"

Dawn wandered over to the vcr and popped in 'Beauty and the Beast'. Once more Spike made himself comfortable on the couch, to his delighted surprise Buffy again curled herself up on his lap. Spike placed a tender kiss on the faded bite marks, "I love you Buffy, with everything that I am."

Buffy turned her head and captured his lips in a sort kiss. She took a deep breath and looked Spike directly into his clear, cerulean blue eyes, "And I love you too."



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Chapter 6: Truths Invited


For the second time in as many weeks Spike found himself pacing on the back porch of the Summers house, muttering to himself. He could hear the Slayer moving around inside. She no doubt knew he was there, but she hadn't come out yet.

"Right you pillock, if the poofter and captain cardboard can do this, you can do it with style. It'll be fine." Spike groaned and looked down at the items he held in his hands. "Stupid human holidays." Since the Valentine's with Dru and Angelus, Spike had come to hate the holiday with a passion he normally reserved for Buffy's exes. Bad connotations, perhaps. He wondered if he'd have to invite himself in - it didn't seem as though Buffy was about to appear any time soon.

"You can do this, all it is is giving a bleeding present to your," his pacing stopped. What exactly was he to Buffy, and Buffy to him? It had been almost two weeks since he had been on this very porch, but that night had changed everything. The simple night at home with 'his girls', some junk food and a couple of movies. Then she had changed everything.

With four little words she had altered everything. Everything. Words he had thought that he would never hear from her, "I love you too." That had been a fortnight ago, and she hadn't mentioned it since. Hot, typically destructive sex, yes. But not a lot of actual conversation had occurred in the interim. She wasn't one for over-talking a situation, his Slayer.

That led him to tonight, with a silly token of his feelings in one had and a bouquet of red roses in the other. Spike's grip was so tight that he had crushed the stems of the rose, their thorns cutting into his flesh. Terror had kept him from feeling the slights twinge of pain.

Tonight was the night, Spike was tired of the sex with no talking, no real connecting. He was here to try and woo his lady, and if that didn't work then he was going to try and end it. Buffy had given him more then a crumb that night, she had given him the whole loaf, and having had that, he was not going live off crumbs any more.

"So quit talking to yourself and go and see the lady." With an unneeded breath, Spike opened the back door and entered the kitchen. Buffy was sitting at the counter, eating a sandwich and flicking through a magazine.

She looked up when he entered, smiling the half-smile that was usually immediately followed by snide comments, but her expression faded to one of uncertainty when she saw the flowers in his hand. For the last half hour Buffy had listened to Spike pace and mumble to himself wondering what he was up to. If he had been sixty seconds longer she would have gone out to see what the problem was.

She had had a clever barb on the tip of her tongue to send his way when she heard him opening the door, but the yellow roses and confused her. "Spike?" she asked, uncertainly. "What--?"

Spike was wearing his resolve face. Looking into his earnest, icy blue eyes she wondered what was wrong. She had only ever seen anything resembling this particular expression once, when he had promised to protect her sister until the end of the world. Solemnly he handed her the bouquet, as if they were a peace offering for what was about to come. As one of the thorns drew blood Buffy winced and was even more surprised and worried when the vampire before her didn't so much as glance down at his small wound.

"Spike, what's with the sudden need for romance?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"We need to talk," the low, controlled tone terrified Buffy. Every bad conversation she had ever had had started with those words, or something similar.

Um, okay," she said, sitting down. "What's wrong?" This was it, she had finally been too much of a bitch to him and he was leaving. 'I don't think I'm going to be able to get over him.' was her first thought, then nothing as shock descended. If he left he'd be taking more with him than Angel and Riley combined.

Anxiously the petite blond gnawed on her lip, drawing blood. As she looked into his face she realised that the bruises from the last beating she'd given him still hadn't completely faded and she felt terrible. Spike made his way to her, a gentle finger coming out to run over her injured lip. His lips soon followed, then his tongue bathed the shallow cut, cleansing it.

Buffy leaned into his tender kiss, more relieved than she was willing to admit. If he was kissing her this way, being loving and tender, then he wasn't leaving, saying goodbye, was he?

He slid an arm around her waist. "What am I to you, Buffy?" he asked, after an agonising pause. She felt as if his intense blue eyes were staring directly into her soul. "I need to know. I love you, I'd do anything for you, but I have to know. Some moments it seems as if you hate me, and yourself, for what we do. Other times I don't think I have ever seen you happier, more at peace, comfortable with who and what you are."

The Slayer sighed, looking away. "Spike...." Unsure of how to answer, she leaned in to kiss him. When he asked the hard questions, told the disturbing truths that she couldn't answer or face, this had always been the best way of putting him off.

"No, Buffy, this time I need an answer." Spike could see confusion and pain filling Buffy's hazel eyes, and almost gave in to the need to hold her, comfort and protect her. But no, they had to settle this between them.

"You want the truth, Spike? I don't know. Don't think I haven't thought about it. I haven't thought about anything else." She gave a short, humourless laugh. "No wonder Dawn is so mad at me lately. I haven't been on the planet lately."

Spike stepped back, letting the Slayer pace it out, rant, it meant she was talking. More important than the words were their meaning and tone, he heard pain and confusion. But even so, pain and confusion were a definite step up from coldness, anger and denial. She hadn't even insulted him yet.

"Why does this have to happen to me? Why can't it ever be simple? Easy? Normal? Why does it have to be so hard?" the last words were spoken in a whisper. Clouded hazel eyes caught and held in pure blue, hers begging for answers, his telling her that she had them all if she just could get up enough courage to look, trust and believe in the answers between them. The look became too intense and Buffy looked away, down at the floor. "I... feel something when I'm around you. I don't know what. But I... it's good, Spike. I don't want it to stop."

"Why can't you say it now? Why did you say what you did before? I know you meant it, why is it so hard to say it again?" There was no accusation in his tone, no bitterness, just genuine confusion and sadness.

"I'm scared," she said in a small voice. "It's so hard Spike. When I allow myself to really feel what I feel for you it, it's bigger then anything that I have ever known and it scares me."

"Do you think what I feel doesn't scare me? Doesn't terrify me? But luv, even the worst terror, the worst hurt, it has all been worth feeling it. I won't ever regret what I feel for you."

Spike desperately wanted a cigarette. This was more than he'd hoped for, but he couldn't help pushing just a little more. He wanted to hear the word again. Desperately needed to.

"Do you love me?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Buffy was suddenly, unaccountably, reminded of another vampire who'd stood in her house and asked her the same question, and she forced the memory and the accompanying twinge of old pain out of her mind. She had answered Angel honestly then, and Spike deserved no less. In fact, if anything he probably deserved more.

"Yes." Her answer was so low that had he not had vampiric hearing he would have missed it. While her answer gave him joy, the expression of loss and terror broke his heart. "You know me so well. You treat me like no one ever has before. You don't pull your punches, and you don't force me to pull mine. For some reason you have always been able to see deep down almost to the very depths of my being. I'm scared that someday you might really see the real me and not like what you see."

Spike moved close to her, slipping his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She closed her eyes, leaning into him, and buried her face in his chest. Tentatively her arms crept up around his waist and slowly tightened until she held him in a vice grip. After a moment, he realised that she was crying very quietly.

"There, love," he soothed, stroking her shoulder. "I've seen you at your... well, your pretty bad, maybe even your worst. And I'm still here, aren't I?" Spike changed his tone, hoping to get a laugh out of her, "Pet, why would I leave when we've finally gotten to the good stuff?"

"Because that's when all the others have left," came the muffled reply. Rage filled Spike, red hot and deadly. Had his grandsire been there he would have killed him without a second thought. Chip or no, Whitebread and other whelp would have suffered equally grim and painful fates.

"Slayer, if you think you're getting rid of me that easily, you've got another think coming," he told her, continuing to run cool fingers across her skin. "Hey, I bought you a present."

"Yes, thank you for the flowers -- they're beautiful." Buffy pulled out of Spike's embrace to gather the flowers from the top of the island, where she had placed them earlier. She brought the pink buds to her nose and inhaled their lovely aroma. "I should put them in some water."

It was only after she pulled her nose out of the flowers that she noticed another item on the island. The flowers were set aside as she tentatively picked up the garish object.

"Look, it's stupid. At the time it seemed right, now, I just feel like a wanker. Give it back, I'll get you a real Valentine's Day present."

It was a small stuffed toy vampire, dressed in a little orange lined black satin cape with an upswept collar. It was the kind of thing that you might buy around Halloween, but this one was carrying a small red satin heart that read, "Be Mine". Spike reached, trying to take it back.

Buffy laughed delightedly, holding it behind her back, safely out of his reach. "He's kind of like you. All Big Bad looking, but soft and cuddly if you get close enough." She took it out, looking at it critically. "Plus, he has your fashion sense."

"Right, Slayer - give it back if you want a real present." If he could, Buffy was sure that Spike would have been blushing to the dark roots that were beginning to show.

"No," her voice was soft, and determined, her fingers were reverently tracing the white stitching on the red heart. "This is the first holiday in a long time that isn't making me wish I was someone else, anyone else, but the Slayer. Thank you."

A smile graced Spike's lips, except this time it was devoid of its usual sarcasm and cockiness, this one reached his eyes and was so full of love and hope that Buffy's breath hitched in the back of her throat.

"And?" His voice was husky with the same emotions that shone through his crystal blue gaze.

"And what?" Buffy felt herself drowning in him, he had released something in her. The seed had taken root, and under Spike careful guidance and care it had sprouted into a wonderful bloom, full of beautiful colours filled with love and laughter, hope and joy. The flower was strong, hearty enough to weather the storms that were in front of it. In front of her, in front of them. With his tending she could face anything.

"And I love you with every fiber of my being, will you be mine?" Spike drew her to him, punctuating his plea with the tenderest of kisses on her warm lips.

"I love you too." Funny how much easier it was getting to say those words. "I'll be yours, just as you are mine." With that Buffy untangled herself from him, taking his hand she led him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Chapter 7: Troubling Indecision



"I love you too." Funny how much easier it was getting to say those words. "I'll be yours, just as you are mine." With that Buffy untangled herself from him, taking his hand she led him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom.

The door clicked behind Spike as Buffy led him over to the bed. With a soft push on his chest Buffy pushed him to sit on the edge. Leaving him there she moved around the room lighting a dozen candles. She glowed golden in the light, seeming to float back to his side.

"Since when do you keep so many candles around, pet?" Spike asked, gazing up at his Slayer. Way to go you wanker 'she's trying to make it romantic. Spoil the mood why don't you?, he thought as soon as he'd said it.

Blushing bright red in the warm light, she smiled down at him. "Willow didn't need them any more... and I couldn't help thinking about what you taught me about candles and foreplay..." A tingling sensation shot through Buffy, settling in her core as she remembered that night. "Maybe later we could...but this time...I love you."

Spike took an unneeded breathe to steady himself, rein in his raging lust, but it didn't help to have his nostrils filled with the scent of her arousal. Her words - short, simple words that he'd never really believed that he would hear - filled him in a way he couldn't explain. She'd said it three times now, and it was almost starting to sink in.

With a seductive smile Buffy brought her hands to the buttons on her black blouse, undoing them slowly, causing Spike to want to rip the shirt from her body. She shrugged her shoulders, and the shirt fell to the floor. Then with a move that had been mystifying men for decades, Buffy reached behind her and the black silk bra slowly slid from her arms.

Spike reached up to rest his hands lightly on her hips, edging his fingers under the top of her leather skirt. The Leather Skirt. God he loved that skirt. Great memories. He could drown in this skirt. Or, more happily still, he could drown in the spectacularly almost-naked woman beneath it.

"Uh-uh," she scolded playfully, batting his hands away. "You don't get to touch yet. You get to watch."

Taking a small step back Buffy toed off her shoes. She glanced up, and their eyes caught. His arctic blue gaze shone with love, understanding and lust, and the way he looked at her caused her heart to swell and tears to gather in the back of her throat. "Do you know," Buffy's whisper was thick with the emotions Spike inspired in her heart, "when you watch me I feel whole, feel loved. The look you get in your eyes makes me feel like a better person."

Between the tide of love and the undertow of lust that her words awoke in him, he was starting to feel dizzy. "God, Buffy -- the things you say... I love you so bloody much," Spike's voice was equally filled with emotion. This time when he reached for her she came willingly, and did not protest as he slowly lowered the zipper at the back of her skirt, sliding it over her hips and to the floor.

"Cor Slayer I love your knickers," Spike was running his fingertips over the top of a pair of black silk panties that matched the bra. Before she could stop him, he lunged forward, ripping the delicate fabric away with his teeth. He let them drop and grinned at her. "I'm building up quite the collection of them."

"You are so going to buy me a new pair!" The petite blonde tried to sound annoyed, but when Spike's tongue started lapping at her bellybutton she just moaned. "At the rate you're going, I'm not going to have any left."

"You could always --" nibble, lick "-- borrow them back from me." The only response he got was a moan and a fresh wave of arousal filling the air. Trailing a finger slowly up the inside of her right leg, Spike traced slow circles as he neared the golden triangle of curls that hid Buffy's garden of pleasure.

With infinite care, Spike slowly slid one, two, then three fingers into Buffy's sodden passage. Buffy closed her eyes involuntarily, the heat of her desire for him releasing a flow of warm wetness between her thighs.

"God luv, you're so hot, it's like sticking my hand in lava," Spike's cool breath caused gooseflesh of desire to prickle across Buffy's smooth, taut, golden abdomen.

Buffy trailed her fingers through his hair, pulling him gently towards her in a wordless plea. Unable to resist her, he nuzzled against her hot, glistening mound, gently tracing her outlines with his tongue until the sweet, hot flesh opened to him. Spike ran his tongue from her overflowing opening to her nubbin of pleasure, causing the blond pelvis beneath his mouth to thrust involuntarily towards the window.

Thinking about having those gloriously tight muscles wrapped around him was almost too much for Spike. Stroking his palms slowly up the back of her thighs, he tore himself away long enough to gaze up into her eyes, which were liquid with desire.

"I think I'm overdressed," he said huskily. The need in his voice - low and rough - sent shivers through her. "God, Slayer, the things you do to me," Spike's voice was almost a growl, but his hands were soft and gentle on her.

He started to lower his head again, when Buffy pulled it back, catching his gaze once again.

"No," the word was soft, confusion flooded Spike's eyes, and his body tensed, braced for another rejection. "I don't want it that way. I want us to be naked, together. Equal."

Their gazes never wavering, Spike slowly stood, shrugging out of his opened shirt, letting it join Buffy's on the floor by their feet.

Small warm hands reached out to slowly pull the black cotton t-shirt from Spike's pants. They gathered the hem and slowly inched it up his washboard abs and over his chest. Spike raised his arms and Buffy pushed the t-shirt up as far as she could reach, before he pulled it free. Lowering his arms he let the t-shirt fall next to Buffy's red blouse.

Before his shirt hit the floor, Buffy's small fingers were already working at his belt, and then the button of his jeans. She fumbled for a moment with his, then resorted to force and simply tugged. The fabric gave way immediately.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's going shopping for new clothes," he murmured, looking down.

"I know as well as you do that you're just going to steal replacements out of someone's dryer at the laundromat," she replied calmly, her fingers working their way under the waist of his jeans. And down. He drew a sharp, unneeded breath as her fingertips brushed against his cool marble shaft. A loud groan filled the air, and Spike thrust his aching rock hard member against her hand as she continued to undress him. He kicked his pants away, reaching for her impatiently.

Taking a swift step back to the bed, the blond vampire fell, landing in an undignified heap. In his haste to disrobe and get to the bed he had neglected to take his boots off and his pants were tangled around his ankles.

Laughter filled the air and bounced off the walls. Spike was instantly on the defensive, ready to repair his injured pride. But for once he stopped before his smart-ass mouth could get him in trouble--the brassed-off Slayer and no sex kind of trouble.

It was the sound of the Slayer was laughing that held his tongue. For once, her laughter was not the empty, hollow laugh that she had used these past months while trying to assure everything was all right, but a real laugh, one from the heart.

"Laugh it up Slayer, I could have broken something, something very important," he paused to make sure she was listening, "My love-muscle for example." With that Buffy doubled over in laughter, staggering over to the bed to land next to Spike. He held her as they laughed together, tears streaming down their faces.

Well, he thought as the laughter slowly subsided, Tonight is a night full of firsts.

He nuzzled against her neck, nibbling on her ear. "I love the sound of your laugh, Slayer."

"Well," she murmured, tilting her head down to capture his mouth with her own, "That's good. Because I think you might actually be starting to make me really happy." Settling herself on her side, facing him, she trailed a finger gently down his statuesque jawline.

A loving hand made its way down the Slayers swanlike neck, over her collarbone, to slowly trace up the gentle slope of her left breast. Using just his index finger, Spike made concentric circles towards the rosebud of Buffy's aroused nipple. When his finger finally touched her nipple the golden blonde moaned softly, her eyes drifting closed.

Spike leaned forward, kissing the soft hollow of her throat before drifting downwards, his lips lightly brushing the tender skin of her other breast. She arched into his touch, fiery lines of arousal starting in her achingly heavy breasts and shooting down to her sopping mound.

Wanting this to be more about him, Buffy gently pushed the peroxide blonde head away from her heaving chest, until he was flat on his back. With a smile that was part lust, part devilment, and filled with love, Buffy leaned down and nipped his bottom lip with her dull teeth.

Leaving his lips swollen by their kisses, she planted a soft kiss on his chin, the first in a series that trailed down his throat, until she was nibbling on the skin above his unbeating carotid artery. She bit him gently, then, encouraged by his growl, a little harder. Looking up, twinkling hazel eyes met flashing yellow ones before she lowered her head and continued on her path, placing love bites along his sinewed neck and tender throat, and down his sculpted pecs.

Buffy gentled her nips as she made her way closer to the most sensitive part of his chest. Slowly, with a tender care she had never allowed herself to show the wonderful man beneath her mouth, she drew one of his man- nipples into her mouth. She bathed the little nubbin with her tongue, then gently worried it with her talented teeth.

The low rumbling from Spike's chest was continuous now. The attention Buffy was paying him - the care in which she was doing it - was shattering any remaining walls he had had put in place to try and protect himself. They had had sex before. They'd had lots of sex before. And he had always thought of what he did as making love, but he also knew that she had never really felt that way. For the first time, he felt like she was making love to him.

For once when Buffy's short unvarnished nails raked down his washboard abs, they did not leave trails of blood in their paths. She was playing, and nipping, but not leaving any painful markings behind. Warm, caressing lips followed the trail blazed by her nails, pausing to place a tender kiss on a deep bite mark just below his ribcage that had yet to heal.

Although Spike had never been lying when he told her that he liked it rough - everything she did to him drove him crazy with desire - the truth was that part of him had always been yearning for something more tender, more real. And now the care that she was showing him was shattering; it made her declaration that much more real.

He looked down to see her looking up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes, she leaned down again to place another kiss on the old wound. "I'm sorry, so sorry for all the awful things I've done to you over the past few months. I was a bitch to you. Why you still talk to me -- let alone love me -- I'll never know."

Spike brought his hand down to cup her cheek. A tear spilled over, caught on her lash and sparkled like a diamond in the candlelight before landing on her cheek. Tenderly, lovingly, the vampire brought his thumb up, brushing it away.

"I love you Buffy," he told her, and it was as simple and as complicated as that. Spike coaxed her back up to meet his mouth in a gentle kiss, filled with love and understanding.

The kiss deepened quickly, their seeking tongues coaxing the smoldering of their mutual desire into flames. "I want you now," Buffy murmured into his mouth as she brought a well-toned thigh over Spike's hip, settling her molten heat against his lovelance. With the ease of two people who were intimately familiar with each others' bodies, Spike and Buffy simultaneously shifted their hips and Spike's manhood embedded itself in Buffy's velvet hot, loving grip.

Buffy's breath caught, and they were still for a moment as they gazed into each other's eyes, sharing the mutual charge of their physical connection. The electricity that always crackled between them, that told each when the other was near, leapt through them both as it always did when they joined, completing the circuit and flowing like liquid fire.

Leaning down, Buffy brought his bottom lip into her mouth and worried it with her teeth before releasing it and rearing back up, her hips gently rocking back and forth.

"God, I love the feel of you so deep inside me... you make me feel things no one has before. You touch something deep inside me, the darkness and the light. You make me feel...God, Spike, you make me feel more alive then anything ever has. After and before my second death."

At her words Spike's hips surged upwards, thrusting even deeper into her, his head butting against her cervix causing Buffy to moan in ecstasy. He echoed her moan, his low and hoarse, as her inner muscles tightened around him in waves. "Buffy... oh, God..."

Buffy leaned back, using the extra leverage to drive him deeper, devouring him with her emerald eyes and her body. As she got closer and closer to her climax, her movements became unsteady and erratic. Seeing that she wasn't going to last for much longer, Spike gripped the backs of her powerful thighs, holding her pelvis flush to his as he rolled her under him.

One arm tucked under her shoulders, he held her close as he drove into her, again and again. Spike angled his thrust so that his pubic bone hit her love button with every thrust. He could feel her inner walls start to tremble around him, massaging him with their loving hold.

Buffy let out a moan of protest when he suddenly stopped moving, buried deep inside her burning channel.

"Open your eyes, luv -- look at me." Spike needed to see her eyes; they could rarely hide anything from him. With an effort, heavy lids raised to reveal eyes glazed with lust and love. They held still for a fleeting eternity, liquid hazel and sky blue telegraphing a depth of feeling that words never could.

Never breaking their gaze, the bleached-blonde vampire rested his cool forehead against warm brow of the Slayer beneath him and began thrusting deep within her again. Whether it was the feel of flesh intimately caressing flesh, or the emotions flowing back and forth between their locked eyes, neither knew, but before they were ready for the sensations to end, both felt the telltale signs of an orgasm approaching.

Buffy moaned wordlessly, and Spike held his Slayer tightly as he felt her tense, then start to shake against him as ecstasy took her. As her inner walls convulsed, the extra pressure driving him over the edge, he whispered her name in a voice that was half a groan as he followed her into the abyss.

Muscles continuing to twitch, they lay together, gasping - though only one of them technically needed to, Spike was never a vampire to follow any sort of conventions. As Spike's gasps slowed, he collapsed against her, his shoulder leaning on the bed so as not to crush her, and as he relaxed, a low purring noise came from deep within his being.

Still gazing into his eyes, Buffy smiled softly. "I've always wondered... why the purring?"

"What, the ponce never explained it before?" Spike regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. Way to ruin *another* bloody perfect moment, you stupid git.

To his shock, the sadness or anger that usually filled the hazel eyes of the woman beneath him when he brought up her ex-love stayed calm, with only a fleeting moment of bitter-sweet regret.

"Angel hated showing or telling me anything about his vampiric side. He was ashamed of it. He rarely went gameface with me, and only once let me kiss him that way." Looking back, Buffy realized that Angel had kept a whole part of himself hidden away, in much the same way she had from Riley. To protect from the truth, to hide the differences between them. With Spike there was no hiding, good and bad were laid on down on both sides of the table. "You don't hide from me, you treat me as an equal, that's the way I want to be treated, and that's the way I mean to treat you." She smiled again. "I guess you were right... I need a little monster in my man. But I need a good man in my monster, too."

Spike's purring grew slightly louder at her words and he leaned down to kiss her swollen lips. "So really, what's with the purring?" Buffy asked when her lips were free.

The blond vampire smiled back, reaching up to brush a lock of damp golden hair from her face. "I guess it has something to do with the beastie inside. I don't do that that often, haven't done it for years in fact. Only with you. And probably something to do with the happy, I'd wager. Buffy... you make me so happy." He wrapped his arms around her, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him.

"Happy," she mused, thoughtfully. "I'd almost forgotten what that was like."

Entwined in each others' bodies and blanketed by the warmth of love and happiness, they both fell into a deep peaceful sleep.



----------------

The alarm sounded at eight the next morning, jarring the two lovers from their long slumber. They had slept peacefully through the whole night, an amazing feat for either, but near-incredible for both together.

Spike regarded the buzzing alarm with something like loathing. "I have to say, luv - there have been some less than pleasant inventions in the twentieth century."

Buffy reached over him, groping around the nightstand until she found the snooze button. "Yeah, well. I haven't exactly been spending my nights sleeping, these past few months. There are tradeoffs."

The blond vampire took advantage of her position to run his fingernails lightly down her back, making her shiver with delight. "Complaints, pet?" he teased.

As she smacked his hand away, he wrapped the other arm around her and pulled her close. "Baby, I'll get you up any time you need," he murmured with an over exaggerated leer.

Giggling, Buffy stretched, rubbing her body over his, feeling him hard deep within her, where he still lay from the night before. "Feels like you're already up, baby," she returned with a coquettish smile.

Growling, he leaned up to plant a gentle kiss on her lips, which rapidly deepened. He ground his hips against hers, prompting soft whimpers from his lover as he moved inside her. His hands on her back slid down, gently caressing the firm globes of her ass, and down further to graze the backs of her thighs. As she was melting against him, he tightened his grip on her legs and flipped them in a single graceful move, so that she was beneath him again. Before she had a chance to respond, he used his grip on her thighs to raise her legs above his shoulders, as he began thrusting into her warm heavenly paradise in earnest.

Buffy's moans filled the room, then a scream as he hit her g-spot with every thrust of his powerful rod. Opening her mouth in a silent scream Buffy came, her inner muscles clamping down on Spike, holding him deep within her body. Buffy's orgasm triggered Spike's and he shot wave after wave of cold, dead seed into her womb. Wrung out, yet strangely energized, their eyes met, and unrestrained laughter filled the room.

They collapsed against each other in a happy, sated tangle of limbs and sheets, nuzzling and kissing whatever bare flesh was available, before snuggling down in relaxed exhaustion.

"Mmm..." Spike murmured after a while. "Stay here all day with me. I can't leave anyway." His fingers, tracing invisible patterns on her flat belly, froze as he realized when and where he had said those words to her before.

Buffy brought a hand up to lovingly trace his furrowed brows, trying to smooth the worry lines away. "I'm sorry," she whispered when she had finally dragged his eyes up to meet hers. Her apology was for more then the words, it was for the callousness of the past, her cruelty. It all seemed so stupid now, her fear of loving this man before her, fear of loving what she had been trained to hate and kill, fear of opening herself up to the hurt of loving any one again, fear of trusting that he meant what he said, that he wouldn't leave, ever.

As if on cue, a knock sounded on the door. They both froze, wondering who was in the house. It had been empty when they had made their way up the stairs the night before.

"Sorry to interrupt the sexcapades, guys," came Dawn's voice from the other side, "But Buffy's supposed to go do wedding stuff with Anya in, like, half an hour. You guys better get decent."

"Oh!" Buffy exclaimed guiltily, trying to jump up, but she was still too intermingled with Spike, and he wasn't helping. "Dawnie! You're back! Um, just give me a sec here..."

Dawn laughed outside the door. "Janice's Mom dropped me off fifteen minutes ago. But don't worry. I'm all set to go. I'll be downstairs."

"Spike," Buffy shoved at the muscular chest, "Move it, dead boy - I have to take a shower and get ready. I'll never be able to do it in twenty minutes." The Slayer finally managed to extricate herself from the vampire, who had collapsed - apparently intentionally - in an awkwardly limp pile on top of her. With some effort, she pushed him to the side and stood up. His hand, however, was still firmly gripping her wrist.

"I could wash your back for you, luv," Spike offered as he lay contentedly in her bed, not bothering to cover his nakedness. He was lightly stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb.

"Thanks for the offer," she said, meaning it. "But really - I have to go. Spike, let go."

"Why? To help demon girl write invitations? You know you'd rather stay."

"We're supposed to try on dresses... and yes, but no."

Spike smiled lazily. "I'll let you go if you promise to let me lick the dress off you in front of all your friends while we dance at the wedding."

"Spike, you're a pig," Buffy's eye were smiling.

"Will you at least let me hold your hand as we watch the Whelp and Demon girl get married?" Spike's voice was filled with mocking laughter his sparkling blue eyes invited Buffy to join his joking.

Suddenly she was looking everywhere except at him. "Buffy, luv, I promise not to eat the guests." He continued to joke, but he was getting worried at Buffy's reaction.

"I -- I can't, Spike. I'm not ready for them to... it wouldn't work. They can't know, not yet."

"So that's it then, is it?" Spike asked, his voice bitter through the haze of something that felt like betrayal. "I'm good enough to shag, and good enough to trust with your life, but I'm not good enough for you to admit to your friends, the people who love you, that we're together. You're still ashamed of me."

Buffy turned to face him, and he could see tears in her eyes. "This is not all about you, Spike. I just need..." Her words of denial were like the petals being ripped from a beautiful and rare flower.

“You said you loved me, was that just another convenient lie? Can you look at yourself in the mirror now, Slayer?" Slayer was filled with contempt. "Please tell me that you weren't playing with me when you said you loved me." His voice was barely above a whisper, and it wavered dangerously at the end.

He could almost see the walls going up behind her eyes as he spoke, and it sent a fresh wave of pain through him. She didn't respond, and her silence now after so many words so recently, sank thorns through his heart that cut right to the depths of his being. He had been a fool, he realized, to have seen only the rose she had offered him, and to have forgotten the sharp, lethal thorns that lurked beneath. After a moment he said heavily, looking away. "You're right. This is all about you, isn't it? I'm never really going to be good enough for you, am I?" to be good enough for you, am I?"

He was getting to his feet now, gathering his clothes, getting dressed. Buffy stood there, paralyzed. She knew she should say something, but she had no idea what.

"Spike please," she had no idea what she was entreating him to do, to calm down, take back the words that were closer to truth the falsehood, begging him to understand, just this once more.

Jeans on, belt and boots done up, Spike angrily thrust his arms into the sleeves of his shirt, "I love you, but right now I hate you too. Every time I think, finally, we are on the same page, you change the rules. I can't take it any more. It's killing me inside. I'm filled with you, there's almost nothing left that is me, and I can't go on like this, with you running hot and cold. I don't want to end up hating you for real."

Tears were streaming down Buffy's face, "You don't understand, you're supposed to understand. I can't do this right now, not with the wedding. Why are you being like this?" She paused, her walls coming up firmly now, tears stopped. "This is all just a game to you isn't it? Get the Slayer to admit she loves you. You can go and reinstate your status as Master Vampire now, can't you. You might not be able to kill the Slayer, but you can fuck her!"

Spike's left fist backhanded her, knocking her across the bed. Her every word struck like white hot pokers in his heart, shattering his hold on his emotions. "That's right Buffy." Her name was said like a vile taste. "That's why I've been your lap dog for the last year."

Picking up his duster with a vicious motion he continued, "Believe what you want, Slayer. I've always been honest with you. Do me the same courtesy. When you figure out what you really want... come see me then."

With a swirl of angry black leather, he was gone.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Chapter 8: Telling Information


Buffy had seen him, of course, lounging around the edges of the wedding festivities. Smoking outside, earlier. In back, at the ceremony. Just a little while ago, he'd been haunting the bar. She wasn't sure where he was now, and it was gnawing at the back of her mind.

Actually, it was the first time he'd been out of her sight all night. Not that she was watching him or anything. Anyway, he had walked out on her.

'Yeah, but only after you had been such a bitch,' a small voice sneered. The voice had been getting louder and louder over the past 8 days, 11 hours, 42 minutes and 35 seconds, give or take.

She wondered if he'd gone home. There was no reason why he shouldn't have. He was free to come and go as he liked. He'd paid his respects to Anya and Xander, and getting drunk with the Happy Meals probably wasn't a good idea for him anyway, chip or no chip.

She squished down the voice in the back of her head, resolving to put him out of her mind. Her resolve lasted a good 18 seconds, until she saw him making his way back to the bar. The way he moved through the crowd, with a catlike mixture of easy strength and supple grace, she would have know him anywhere - even without his distinctive white-blond hair.

Spike had left the bar and retired to a table in the far corner some minutes ago. He wasn't sure why he was still at the reception, except that part of him was deriving a deep satisfaction from the way Buffy kept trying to pretend she wasn't looking at him.

But the corner wasn't safe either. One of Xander's cousins was earnestly trying to tell him how wonderful her daughter was. The daughter in question was currently a resident of the State.

Mumbling something about liking men, Spike decided that if he was going to stay, he was going to need a drink. Especially if he was going to continue to not watch the Slayer in her dress. Very revealing dress, all that golden skin, the way the pale purple silk hugged her body like she was poured into... Yes, he definitely needed Scotch.

From across the room, Buffy was definitely not watching him work his way back towards the bar. Just to piss her off, he added an extra swagger to his stride and leered at one of Anya's gorgeous demon friends. 'If she thinks I'm playing with her, then let's give her a show.'

However, the instant he caught the expression on Buffy's face he regretted his actions. She looked heartbroken. 'You wanker,' he told himself. 'You knew what her insecurities were long before you loved her, and now you've gone and proven her twisted logic correct.'

Unfortunately, the demoness had apparently missed the subtext between vampire and Slayer, because she took the smile as an invitation, and followed him to the bar. He cursed silently as she poured herself onto the stool next to him.

"Scotch, please," Spike told the bartender.

The demoness pouted at him, the effect slightly ruined by her gently waving tentacles. "Aren't you going to buy me a drink?" She slipped a small webbed hand over his thigh, and he groaned inwardly.

For once in his unlife, Spike didn't really feel up to making a scene. "Look, pet," he said, as diplomatically as possible. "You're probably a very wonderful person, but my heart belongs to another." He contemplated his Scotch before taking a large sip and continuing, "Truthfully, my heart is on some else's bedroom floor right now. But that's neither here nor there. I'm just not interested." He managed to shrug her wandering hand out of his lap.

The thundercloud of hurt rejection gathering behind the gorgeous purple eyes did not bode well for his desire for peace and quiet.

Right then, though, a vaguely familiar, slightly accented voice cut through from behind them. "Well I give her 6.6 for skankiness and 5.9 for the unoriginal pick up line."

"I'm going to have to agree with my fellow judge," a girl with short dark hair, streaked with blue and red agreed. "And I'm going to award 6.6 for the hand on thing in the trite category."

"Don't worry honey," added the first girl, whose long light brown hair was shot through with a single, broad, violently blond streak, "He's gay."

"Bloody hell," Spike exclaimed, choking on his Scotch. "I'm what?!" Then, glancing sideways at the confused demoness, added, "Oh, yeah... um... gay."

"Ah, that explains it," she said, knowingly. "Nothing before has been able to resist me." With a swish of her puce clad hips, the demoness sashayed off in the direction of an eight foot tall creature that looked remarkably like a cricket.

Seizing the opening, the two girls occupied the seats on either side of the blond vampire.

"Hey James," one called. The gorgeous man behind the bar looked up, grinned, and sauntered over to where Spike was sitting, flanked by the two girls.

"Hi girls, how've ya been?" From further down the bar one of Xander's inebriated relatives demanded yet another drink. Spike watched in shock as the bartender flipped off the man, and told him he was cut off for the rest of the night.

"What can I get you guys?" the bartender asked, turning his attention back to them, and the long-haired girl on his left rattled off something involving soda water, rum and peach schnapps. As she leaned forward on the bar, Spike couldn't help noticing a large swirly dragon tattoo on her shoulder and neck, and he hoped it wasn't the symbol of some demon death cult.

"Our friend here is paying," the short-haired girl added.

"Oy, I'm doing nothing of the sort! You lot don't look old enough to be here anyway. Bugger off." Spike drained his Scotch then set the glass down in front of the bartender indicating he wanted another.

The bartender glared at him. "I think you've had enough, too." He poured the girls' drinks with a flourish, and handed them over.

"Do I =know= you?" Spike asked, looking between the two of them with something between exasperation and utter confusion.

"Wow, someone is having a bitter party all by themselves. What's wrong blondie, feed off of a Parking Nazi?" The two girls giggled as the one with shorter hair held her glass up in salute.

"I'll give you 7.6 for the comments, but really you get 1.4 for effort - that didn't actually sound like you wanted us to leave." The girl with long hair took a sip of her drink and smiled at the bartender. "James, perfect as always." For a second, an Australian accent was plainly audible.

Recognition made its way through Spike's mind. 'Oh, God, it's the two chits from the movie. I am =so= not drunk enough for this!' A wave of melancholy passed over the blond vampire as he realized that even his speech patterns had become corrupted by his Slayer.

"You're looking all lonely here," the long-haired girl continued. "And it just doesn't seem right. What happened to your enthusiastic girlfriend?"

Not allowing him the opportunity to answer, her short-haired Canadian friend added, "Just when you guys seemed like you'd figured it out, too... You both scored so well."

"Except for the dismount," the first amended, causing the other to snort.

"Look, please, I'm not in the mood for this, please just leave me to drink in peace." Spike again looked at his empty glass. He'd only had two drinks, he reflected, and it just wasn't fair. Glancing over at Buffy, he felt his world tilt. She was standing with her back to him, facing a tall man dressed in a tux. He was broad, with dark hair, dark poofy hair, and an open puppy-dog expression. Spike decided that he needed many, many more bottles of Scotch.

Spike shot a pleading look at the bartender, who shook his head and grinned. Picking up a white rag James began polishing the bar, staying close enough to make sure that 'his' girls didn't need a refill, and that the blonde man held his temper.

Both girls stopped their good-natured ribbing when pain and sorrow etched over the features of the vampire between them. Turning his gaze away from where Buffy stood next to one of Xander's fellow Lego builders - they all had bodies hardened from heavy lifting, and minds as thick as cement - Spike eyed the bottle of Scotch just out of his reach. He missed Buffy turning to look at him, and the hurt and loneliness that stole over her face when she saw him with a woman on either side.

Neither girl missed a thing that passed between the two bottled blondes.

The girl on his left touched his shoulder gently. "Look," she said, all joking pushed aside, and her Australian accent coming through more strongly, "You want her. She wants you. You guys really need to figure this one out." She took a sip of her drink. "Before it's too late."

"Want is not the problem here," Spike muttered into his empty glass. The moment the words came out of his mouth, he regretted having spoken. These girls were too perceptive by half, he wasn't entirely sure they were human.

Laying her hand gently on his arm to get his attention, the girl to his right looked him in the eye, "You don't have to tell us, but sometimes it helps. Talking to someone who doesn't know you from a hole in the ground."

Spike shook his head, but words tumbled out anyway. "She doesn't bloody well know what she wants. She wants everything. Half the time I can't tell if I'm--"

"If you're more to her than just something she wants?"

He laughed, without humour. "I was going to say, if I'm helping or hurting." The bartender set a mug in front of Spike. Surprised, he looked down to see that it was blood. "Thanks, mate."

"Why do you think you're hurting her?" The Canadian set her drink aside, as did her friend, both knowing they needed to be sober for this.

"She-- bloody hell, she said it straight out, once. But I should have seen..." trailing off, Spike took a sip of milk before continuing, "I love her. I've never felt anything like this before. And she, she..."

"She says she doesn't love you," the Australian finished for him.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Wait, no, she does. She keeps changing her bloody mind." He looked between the two girls, encouraged by their understanding expressions, "I think she's, I know she's ashamed of me. I know I'm not good enough for her, but it still hurts."

"She's ashamed because of what her friends would say if they knew she's with a vampire?" Spike nodded his head in answer to the Canadian's question. Then stopped suddenly.

"I'm not a vampire." Spike looked around to make sure no-one had heard the chit's comment.

The bartender and the two girls looked at each other, then burst out laughing. "Buddy," said James, who had been blatantly listening in for the last few minutes, "If you're not a vamp, then you need to do something about your lack of reflection and go see a doctor, or maybe a psychiatrist, about the fact that you drink blood."

"You shouldn't believe her when she says you're not good enough for her," the Australian said, bringing them back to the topic at hand. "Have a little faith. Everyone has issues. You've done things. She's done some things too. Some good, some bad. But the game is far from over. What matters is where you go from here."

"The important thing is to not give up." The Canadian looked over to where Buffy was talking to the brick-layer. Spike's eyes followed and he was happy to note that Buffy had her arms crossed and didn't seem to be paying any attention to what the boy was saying. Instead, she was looking over at him. Her face was impassive, but he could see longing and jealousy mingling together in her beautiful hazel eyes.

"She wants you. She's jealous that we're here with you and she's not," the Canadian continued. Spike started to rise, intent on going over to her, but both girls grabbed his arms and kept him firmly in place. "Dude, just because she wants you doesn't mean it's the right time." When she was sure he wasn't going to leave, the dark-haired girl released him and continued, "You need her to come to you. From what we've heard and seen of you two, you do all the chasing in public and she only really acknowledges you when you're in private or away from her friends, yes?"

"Yeah," he mumbled reluctantly.

"So, wait. Trust us - she'll come. She's got it bad for you. And really, who can blame her?" The Australian girl smiled, pushing a strand of her bleached-blonde streak out of her eyes.

"Yeah, with those gorgeous blue eyes, wonderful cheek bones, washboard abs..." The Canadian's eyes glazed over, then she shook her head as if to clear it. "Damn, that was the out-loud voice again, wasn't it?"

The vampire cocked an eyebrow, his swaggering attitude reappearing, but subsided at the Australian girl's amused look. "Oh, get over yourself. You're =so= taken. No sane woman would get in her way."

Spike heard a chuckle, realizing with surprise that it was his own – she had made him smile for the first time in weeks. Both girls had made him feel unexpectedly better by listening to him and trying to help.

A thought occurred to him. "Wait, washboard abs? How do you--?"

The Canadian winked at him. "We'll be going now," she said. "Before we make her any angrier than it looks like she already is."

"Wait - who *are* you?" the vampire asked again, as the girls stood. They were grinning now.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the Australian asked, and then pointed across the room to where Buffy was shoving her cup in the direction of the bricklayer, her eyes fixed firmly in Spike's direction.

"Well, I see our work here with you is done. James, when you get off, grab a couple bottles and come join us at our table." The Canadian threw down a couple of crisp twenties on the bar, to cover the bottles and tip.

The vamp saw Buffy push her way through the drunkenly dancing partygoers, leaving the overgrown puppy dog holding her cup and watching her with resigned disappointment as she made her way to the bar.

When he looked back, the girls had vanished as suddenly as they'd appeared, which was no mean feat in a party that wasn't actually all that large. Where they'd been standing, a cocktail napkin drifted gracefully to the floor.

Buffy appeared in front of him, eyes snapping with hurt. "What the hell was that, Spike?"

Immediately Spike felt ashamed, then shook himself. He had done nothing wrong. Besides, Buffy hadn't graced him with her presence since he had stormed out of her house that morning. Using the sewers to get home. So bugger her, he was done being her bitch. Well, at least for the next minute until he caved, as he was sure he would.

"You know, Buffy," he said seriously, "Not everything is all about you. Those were some friends of mine who stopped by for a quick chat. And now they're gone. If you want to make a scene, I suggest we go outside. If we start breaking the furniture in here, Anya's going to be bloody furious."

"If you're trying to make me jealous, it isn't working." Even as the words left her mouth Buffy knew she was lying, and worse, from the look in his penetrating blue eyes, she could tell that Spike knew she was lying, too.

"Listen, pet. I love you, I know it, you know it, hell I'm sure the bleeding Watcher's Council knows it, but I'm tired of you being such a bitch to me. And Luv? Next time you treat me like you did in your bedroom, I will bloody well bite you."

Buffy narrowed her eyes, then sighed, and looked away. "Maybe we should go outside."

"Love to, Slayer," Spike sneered. This felt good. This was what they needed - a knock down, drag out fight to clear the air. "Just try not to throw me at anything wooden and breakable."

"That's-- god, Spike, that's not what I meant." She looked up at him, eyes filled with an unreadable expression. "Look, do you want to go someplace quieter?"

After a moment, he nodded, and she looked at him with something like relief.

In an almost companionable silence, they headed for the door to the hallway.

"We can go in here to talk, this is the room where we got ready before the wedding. No-one is here now." Taking out a key card, Buffy opened the door and preceded Spike into a room filled with white and pink roses. They stood in the middle of the room, alone for the first time since that fateful morning, neither quite sure what to say.

"So we're going to talk, then?" Spike asked cautiously, after a long moment.

"Yeah, I'm just not sure what I want to say now that I've got you here." It was a testament to how bad things had gotten when there was no joking or snide comment from the peroxide blonde a few feet away from her.

Grabbing the back of a chair he swung it around and sat down on it, pulling the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket; looking around at the tiny room, he forced an unnecessary sigh and put them away again. He looked back up at the Slayer, who appeared to be as confused as he felt.

"So, what now?" he asked, bluntly. "We just keep fighting and shagging until it kills us both? Is that how this works?"

She smiled a very small smile. "I think I remember you saying something like that once, yeah."

They fell silent again, eyes roving over each other longingly.

It was more than sex, Buffy admitted to herself. God, she had missed him. A dozen times a day she thought, 'I'll tell Spike that,' or had start to make a comment about the idiocy of fledglings, only to remember that he didn't follow her on patrols any more. Or if he did, he stuck so far to the shadows and kept enough distance that she never sensed him.

Looking at her watch him, Spike felt his unbeating heart contract. This really hurt.

"Yeah, it does," she answered softly. Spike was unaware that he had spoken his thoughts out loud until the Slayer had answered.

"Spike, how do I fix this?" Standing in the middle of the small room, she suddenly looked tiny and alone. Her eyes as she looked down at him were suspiciously wet.

"Slayer, I'm not sure I want to fix this. It tears my heart out every time you leave. It destroys a little bit of me every time you deny what you feel for me. What I feel for you. I don't want to end up hating you and loving you at the same time." His voice was low, and rough with pain. "I don't know if it can be fixed, love. Maybe it would be better if I went away for a while, let you--"

Spike tumbled backwards out of his chair, his head making a dull thump against the carpet. The wreckage of the chair scattered around him.

"Bloody hell, Slayer! What the hell did you do that for?" Spike stood up, looking at her. She was furious.

With the grace and barely contained power of a jungle cat, the enraged blonde strode to where the vampire was standing next to the demolished chair.

"You. Are. Not. Leaving," she hissed.

Both hands in front of him in a placating gesture, Spike backed up a few steps. "Buffy, I just thought--" His retreat was stopped short by a low couch, but the small blond kept advancing, until she was mere inches from his face, her eyes blazing into his.

"Thought what, you'd decided what was best for me? Maybe leave me for my own good?" Her eyes flashed with fury and her breasts heaved angrily.

"Look Slayer, it's not all about you. I can't take this any more. One minute you're so hot you burn me to the core, the next you freeze me out of your life." His voice shook with emotion, and whether it was fury or heartbreak, neither of them would ever know.

"You can't leave," Buffy said in a small voice. "I'm not going to let you walk out on me again."

"Again? Again! When in the bloody hell have I ever walked out on you? It's you, you're the one that does the leaving all the bleeding time! You never let me in, how can I leave again? I was just a convenience, remember?"

"For Christ's sake, Spike! You never listen to me when I lie to you. Why in the hell would you start listening to me now?" Buffy gave him a hard shove in the chest, and he tumbled back over the sofa, landing on the floor behind it.

Spike stared up at her, surprised. She had said a lot of things to him over the years, hard things mostly, but a few sweet things too. But for the first time ever, her words carried the fire of conviction. She also appeared close to crying.

All the anger drained out of him -- her tears were all it took. No matter how much he wished he could hang onto his anger, when she was hurting, Spike just wanted to wrap his arms around her and make it all better.

But, another part of him was realizing slowly, a lot of the hurt was something she was inflicting on herself. And she was using him to do it, which hurt =him= like hell.

"Buffy," he said, quietly. "I love you. I think you love me. But that's not enough, is it? You're going to have to make a decision. Do you want to =do= this, or not? No more, Pet. I'm not going to be your dirty little secret any more. It's too hard to love you in private and hate you in public. Trying not to touch you, hold you when I see you hurting." Spike started to stand, but his words seemed to take the strength out of Buffy's legs, and she slid to the floor beside him.

For a long moment, Buffy was silent, just looking at him, and something inside him threatened to shatter. It suddenly hit Buffy, she was going to lose him. There was only so much that even Spike was willing to take. She was not going to push another one away. Not when he was her equal, didn't put her on a pedestal. Not when he would not hide the truth from her, and if she let him, he would always be at her side.

The prospect of a life without him... like the past week, only forever... was suddenly huge and real before her, a bleak, dull expanse stretching on until the inevitable untimely end. And suddenly, she was in his arms, her head buried in his shoulder, crying as though her heart was going to break.

Spike's arms closed instinctively around her shuddering body, holding him close to her chest. The sobs that emanated from the small blond on his lap were strong to shake him as well.

No matter what he had said, no matter what she said, he knew that he could never have left her, because in the end he loved her more than he loved anything else. There was no pride, no arrogance, just her. And maybe, just maybe she had finally figured out that it was the same way for her. They were two halves of a whole, they fit perfectly -- that was why they could say, do, the things they did. From the first time he had seen her he had known that she was his match. And he hers.

Pulling back slightly Buffy searched Spike's face, trying to see if it was too late, if she had succeeded in killing his love for her. "Please," she begged, "Please, I love you, don't leave. Don't leave." Once again the Slayer buried her head in the vampire's chest, seeking comfort from the being she once sought to kill.

Tenderly, he stroked strands of hair from her tear-streaked face, murmuring comfort without words, rocking her gently. Though her sobs were lessening, her tears still soaked through his shirt, a nice shirt he had bought just for the Whelp's wedding.

All thoughts of the shirt flew from his head when Spike felt Buffy's warm tongue cress his neck, right where his pulse should have been.

She was kissing his skin softly, her touch full of the hunger of separation and the urgency of fear.

'He has to stay,' her thoughts were frantic and disjointed, 'I'll make him stay.' Her hands began roaming over his back, under the suit jacket he wore. The suit fit him perfectly -- Spike looked gorgeous in it, and Buffy had had a hard time keeping her eye off of him throughout the ceremony and party. As much as she loved the suit, though, the jacket had to go. Her hands skimmed up to his slim shoulders and pushed the jacket down his well- toned arms to the floor.

Part of him, the part that watched a lot more daytime shows on the telly than anyone really ought to, suggested that they should probably have a conversation instead of-- well, whatever it was she was asking from him.

Bringing his hand up the bleached blond gripped the Slayer's arm, drawing her away from him gently.

"Buffy, luv, this is not the way. We're good at this part. We're bleeding spectacular at this part, but we need to talk. We need to figure this out before it destroys both of us."

She drew a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Okay. We'll talk." There was a long silence, which for once, he did nothing to fill. Nervous hazel eyes roamed over his face looking for clues, before coming to rest on his brilliant blue eyes, seeking her answers within their depth.

"What do we do now?" she asked softly. "How can I make this okay?"

Spike brought a hand up to her golden locks, idly fiddling with the pins that kept her hair up in a sleek French twist. Their eyes still searching each other, he sighed, and that sound frightened Buffy more then anything else. A sigh meant frustration, defeat.

"Please Spike, tell me what to do to make this better. I realized something over the past days. I need to be with you -- nothing else matters. Help me make this work." Her eyes pleaded with him, and her sincerity shone through.

"You need to stop hiding," he said seriously. "Hiding from yourself, hiding from your friends. If we're going to have a real shot here, you can't keep sneaking around with me behind the backs of the people who love you. It has to come out. You're never going to be comfortable with yourself or with me until it does."

"Wow, you go right for the big one, huh?" she said weakly. "I'm just-- I'm afraid of what they'll think of me..." But she had very slowly been coming to a similar conclusion. "Yes," she whispered, them with more force, "Yes you're right. I want to be able to be with you and not worry. I need to be able to look at you and know you know what I'm thinking, and not care that my friends catch us exchanging glances. I see what Willow and Tara had, what Xander and Anya have, and I want that."

"So -- we tell them, then?" Spike could not believe what he had heard, that she was willing to tell her little friends about them. Sure, her sister knew, but the rest of them...

"We'll tell them all, before Xander and Anya leave on their honeymoon, when we're all together." Plus it meant that there was a time when the recriminations and questions would have to end, since Xander and Anya had a plane to catch.

"Wanting to make sure we have a guaranteed end to the hysterics, eh luv?" Spike shot her his knowing smile.

"Yeah," she said, smiling, gaining confidence as the idea became more familiar. She slowly ran her hand up his shirt front, loosening his tie. It was deep blue with tiny red dots. Only Spike would be able to get a tie that looked normal until you thought about the fact that a vampire was wearing it.

"You know, Spike, it'll be several hours yet before Xander and Anya leave on their honeymoon and it's been 8 days, 9 hours, 35 minutes and 42 seconds -- give or take -- since we were alone together." While she had been talking, Buffy had brought her hand up to Spike's chest and had deftly undone all the buttons on his shirt. "We've talked. So," she murmured, smiling at him, "Now can we jump straight to the kissing?"

Spike smiled in spite of himself. God, she was beautiful. Especially when she was happy. Instead of answering with words, Spike dipped his head down and kissed Buffy's smiling lips. Laughter that was sheer joy bubbled out of her and flooded through him. It was as if he had been a flower in the parched earth and her laughter was the water he so desperately needed to stay alive.

Never breaking the kiss, she followed him down, devouring him hungrily. Her busy hands roamed over the expanse of perfect flesh exposed to her. God she missed the way he had felt beneath her fingers, like living marble, only so much better. A chuckle rocked her body and Buffy's cheeks went quite red as she realized that she had used the out loud voice.

Spike's hands searched her body feverishly for access to bare skin, unzipping the back of her dress and slipping beneath to caress her warm flesh. Light green silk pooled around the Slayer's waist as she sat up, straddling the vampire beneath her.

"God I've missed you so much, missed--" her words were cut off by a moan as a cool mouth latched onto her throbbing nipple. She ran her fingers through his short hair, pressing him close. His arm tightened around her waist, fingers gently caressing the bare skin of her lower back above the edge of the dress, and Slayer and vampire were lost to the world in each other’s embrace.

The door to the room suddenly burst open.

Buffy and Spike froze in shock and horror, hoping that the couch was enough to hide them from view. Instinctively, uselessly, Buffy hid her face against her vampire's shoulder.

"Hey Buff, you in here?"

Xander's voice bounced jovially off the walls, dismay filling the lovers as his footsteps drew closer. "Buff, you-"

A girly scream filled the room as Xander rounded the couch.

Xander's scream propelled Buffy and Spike into a flurry of motion, clothing hastily righted as best it could be. Trying to hold her dress up over her chest while at the same time disentangling herself from Spike's shirt, the Slayer looked uncharacteristically panicked.

"Xand, you find her, because this is like the biggest surprise of the year, and Buffy is going to love it!" Willow's voice filtered in through the open door.

"Believe me, Will, when I say that there is no way our surprise is topping this." Transfixed, Xander watched as Spike gently zipped Buffy's dress and righted most of her clothes, before starting to button up his own shirt.

"Come on, Xander -- the sooner we share the surprise, the sooner we can go and have newly wedded sex," urged Anya, who had just entered the room behind Willow and Tara.

"I think Buffy has that covered," Xander said weakly.

"It's not what it looks like!" Buffy exclaimed, instinctively stepping in front of Spike, who cleared his throat meaningfully. He slipped a possessive arm around her waist, eyeing the flabbergasted Scoobies defiantly.

"Really," Xander snapped back. "Because it looked like you were half naked on Spike, who was also half naked..." he trailed off, hoping that given enough time and alcohol, he would be able to erase the image from his brain.

"Look, I can explain," Buffy turned her head, meeting Spike's piercing gaze, she nodded her head just once, acknowledging him and accepting that now was the time.

"That's good," Willow said carefully. "Because it really looks like you-- and Spike-- with the semi-naked..."

Buffy was powerfully aware of the coiled tension in the cool body pressing against her back. Spike tightened his arm around her waist, and the gesture was more comforting than she could have imagined.

"Actually," the Slayer amended, "I guess it is what it looks like. This isn't the way I wanted to tell you guys. Spike and I -- we're together now."

There were blank looks from Willow and Xander. But Anya looked like she had a pretty good idea what Buffy was explaining, and Dawn and Tara were grinning ear to ear.

"You know I always thought there was something funny going on." Anya smiled expansively at them. She was happy, and she wanted everyone else to be happy too.

"When were you going to share this earth-shattering piece of news?" Xander asked, trying not to sound hurt, and failing miserably.

"How, how long has this been going-- When did this happen? This isn't a spell, is it?" Willow stammered disjointedly, in shock.

Again exchanging a look with Spike, Buffy took a deep breath. "No spell, Will. And, to answer your question, since the night before Dawn broke her arm." She paused, thinking about it. "Since Sweet. Since we met."

"Yeah," echoed the vampire, "We've been dancing since we met, but if you mean, when did we start dancing without our clothes on? The night before Niblet there got banged up."

"So, you guys... all this =time=?" Willow had not yet recovered the ability to form sentences. "Right under our noses? And we never knew... I should have known."

As she spoke, something peculiar crossed Xander's face. He looked upward, as if calculating, then went pale.

"Oh God. Oh God? Oh God!" Xander's voice rose several octaves, "The, the, the. Oh my god, the push ups. Oh dear God." He sat down heavily on the carpeted floor, among the roses, his head in his hands.

The others looked helplessly from Xander to Buffy and Spike. Just then, a new voice came from outside the door.

"Did you lot find her yet? I want to say my hellos before I keel over from this wretched jet lag."

Buffy stared uncomprehendingly towards the door as Giles entered.



TBC.....




Back to Fiction: By Alpha ~ Back to Fiction: By Season