It was the kind of cloudy, lusterless Saturday afternoon that she might have spent eating popcorn and watching old movies with her mom, if her mom had been around. As it was, she sat alone in the living room in the waning light of late October, flipping through the channels, searching for something to take her mind off the boredom and loneliness she was feeling. She had snuggled deep into the cushions of the sofa and was just dozing off into a troubled sleep when the knock came. Struggling upward out of the nest she'd created, she glanced out the window and saw Spike standing on the porch, the tattered blanket he used as a shield against the light in his hands, and an extra-large, bright orange pumpkin beneath his arm.

Smiling slightly to herself, she opened the door.

"Hi, Spike. What's with the pumpkin?"

"Slayer. Was feelin' a bit restless. Thought you might like some company."

Buffy thought back to the last time she heard him say those words--a time months ago, when Joyce was alive, before the almost-end of the world, before death, before resurrection.

"That still doesn't explain the pumpkin."

"Well, invite me in then, an' I'll tell all."

"You know you don't need an invitation, Spike."

"Just bein' polite, Slayer. You might try it sometime."

"Oh, and I guess you're the Miss Manners of the undead now, huh? Come on in."

He followed her back into the living room, kicking the door shut behind him and setting the pumpkin on the brand new coffee table.

"I thought the Niblet might fancy carvin' up ol' Jack here. I see you don't have one on your porch yet."

"Yeah, well, that was kind of Mom's department. I'm not in a very festive mood this year."

"Right." They looked at one another in perfect understanding.

"So. Where's the Lil' Bit?"

"Sorry. She's not here. She went to... um...somebody's house...I think her name is Caitlin? I was just taking a nap."

"Oh. Well then, I'll get outta your hair--"

"No! I mean, no. You don't have to go. I...I guess I could use some company."

"Well, that's all right, then. Have you got a good sharp knife?"

"Huh?"

"For the pumpkin, pet."

"Oh! Yeah, there's plenty of knives in the kitchen. Help yourself."

He left the room, returning a minute later with a large carving knife, a smaller paring knife, a bowl and a stack of newspapers.

"Wow. You look like you know what you're doing."

"Yeah, well, Dru always had a fondness for Samhain an' All Hallow's Eve. Liked to play with knives, mostly, an' snack on the occasional urchin that was dumb enough to come beggin' for candy."

"Real nice, Spike."

"Right. Sorry."

She watched as he spread the newspapers across the carpet and set the pumpkin in the center of them. Then he removed his duster and threw it across a chair.

"Slayer, would you mind holdin' this steady? Unless you're just too comfy to stir yourself."

She rolled her eyes and struggled up out of the cushions to sit across from him and grasp the pumpkin at it's firm, round middle. She watched has he slid the knife expertly into the top and cut a perfect circle around the stem, creating a lid for the jack o'lantern. Then he plunged his hands into the messy guts of the pumpkin and pulled out handfuls of slimy seeds and stringy goo.

"I always hated this part."

"Now why am I not surprised? You're far too refined for your own good, pet."

"Oh, yeah, I'm a real princess. Tell that to the Froculus demon I beheaded last night."

Reaching into the center of the pumpkin, she began helping to disembowel it. Their hands brushed together in the midst of the slime and she glanced up to discover him staring at her, his lips parted, his eyes devouring her face. She felt herself pulled to him and she nearly gave into it before dropping her gaze and yanking her hands out of the belly of the pumpkin. She leaned back on her heels and looked at him again, smiling impishly. In the next second, he found himself peppered with a handful of seeds.

"Why you cheeky--"

Spike launched a fistful of pumpkin guts at her and the battle was on. She upended the nearly full bowl on his head, and he pinned her to the floor, shoving slimy seeds and innards down her shirt. She screeched and kicked him off, knocking over the coffe table in the process.

"Spike, I swear, if you broke that table--"

"If I broke the table! You started this little tussle, luv. But I'll be happy to finish it!" With that he stood up, swung her into his arms and tossed her half-way across the room into the depths of the sofa. Then he turned and headed for the kitchen.

"Where are you going?!"

"To clean this sticky crap out of my bleedin' hair!"

"Geez, you've gotta be the vainest vampire I've ever seen! I swear, you're worse than--"

He was back at her side in an instant, glaring down at her in manufactured wrath.

"Don't you DARE say--"

"--Angel!"

The snarl that he emitted seemed to vibrate the entire room. She looked up at him with a satisfied grin, knowing that she'd jabbed a sore spot--Spike hated being compared to the Souled One.

"You'll pay for that little remark, Slayer." With that, he dropped onto her and pressed his lips to hers in a hard kiss that stopped her breath and wiped all linear thought from her brain. They sunk deeper into the sofa as she opened her mouth and met his probing tongue with her own. Her hands tangled in his hair and came away covered in orange slime.

When he finally broke the kiss, she gazed up at him in amazement, her cheeks flushed and her breath coming in quick pants. He grinned down at her and eased his weight off her small form. When he was standing, he offered her his hand.

"Truce, pet?"

She slid her hand into his and allowed him to pull her to her feet without comment. She followed him into the kitchen and they commenced picking pumpkin seeds and stringy orange slime from one another's hair and clothing.

"You know...um...you shouldn't really...I mean, we really shouldn't..."

"What, Slayer? Are you tellin' me the very bowels of the earth will open up and suck us under if we indulge in a bit of a snog?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Forget it, pet. All in the name of fun. Meant nothin'." He had turned away from her and she couldn't read his tone of voice.

"Oh. Well, I guess that's..."

"Right then. Shall we get back to it?"

"Huh? Oh, the jack o'lantern. Yeah, OK."

They returned to the living room, and Spike began the painstaking process of carving features into the surface of the pumpkin. At first, Buffy sat on the sofa, trying to put some distance between herself and the raw lust he had awakened in her with his kiss. But as she watched him, she became mesmerized by the skillful, confident gestures of his hands as he created the face of the jack o'lantern. Moving closer, she leaned over him, noting the concentration with which he worked.

He was aware of her sudden proximity, but attempted to ignore her for the good of his peace of mind. The kiss they'd shared had shaken him, and he was feeling too vulnerable to take any further risks at the moment.

Buffy continued to watch him work, transfixed. Then her gaze shifted and she noticed a single pumpkin seed clinging to the back of his neck, just below his hairline. Without thinking too much about it, she reached out and swept the seed away, allowing her fingers to brush against his skin, noting how cool he was to the touch.

When her fingers made contact with his neck, Spike jumped, driving the blade of the knife deeply into the pad of his index finger.

"Bloody hell, Slayer! What're tryin' to do?"

"Calm down, Spike, it's just a little cut. Hold still, lemme see it."

She grabbed his hand and lifted it to inspect the damage. A single drop of crimson welled up in the wound and she instinctively bent her head to it, licking at it and finally sucking the tip of his finger into her mouth.

The effect on Spike was instantaneous. His eyes gleamed golden and a growl of pure carnal intent emanated from his throat. Buffy ignored him, continuing to suck gently at his wound until he yanked his hand away and turned her roughly to face him.

"What're you about here, Slayer?"

She didn't answer, staring hard into his eyes, fascinated by the tiny sparks of firey yellow that appeared and disappeared within their depths. His grip on her arms strengthened, and she idly wondered if she would have marks there in the morning.

"Buffy! You bloody well need to think about what you're doin' here, luv, 'cause if you keep this up, I won't be responsible--"

She slid her arms about his waist and pulled him to her, tucking her head beneath his chin.

"I guess maybe the the bowels of the earth won't open up and suck us under if we...you know..."

She heard his quick intake of air, and marveled that she could provoke the need to breathe in him. Curious to see what else she could provoke, she tightened her arms around his waist and ground her pelvis against him, sighing with satisfaction when she felt hard evidence of his arousal.

"Slayer..." His voice was harsh and rasping, and she understood that he was offering a final warning. Heedless, she went ahead and slid her hands beneath his shirt, exploring the cool, hard flesh just above the waistband of his jeans.

With a sudden movement, he again swung her into his arms and lay her on the sofa. This time, however, he stripped off his shirt and removed his boots before stretching out on top of her and cupping her face in his hand.

"What is it you're lookin' for, pet?"

She raised her eyes to meet his and slipped her hands down the back of his jeans, gently scraping her fingernails over the sensitive flesh. He pressed himself into her involuntarily and groaned.

"Does it really matter?"

His lips quirked a smile at her and then descended to capture hers. This kiss was different, made of equal parts tenderness and provocation. The tip of his tongue explored the outline of her lips, causing her to shiver and clutch at him convulsively.

Then she was struggling beneath him to remove her shirt. He broke the kiss in order to assist in stripping the piece of cotton over her head, and was delighted to discover that she was wearing a bra that clasped in the front. In another instant, it had fallen open and he had captured one of her nipples between his teeth and was nibbling gently on it as it knotted into a hard nub of tingling nerve endings.

She let out a sweet whimper of submission and arched her back, catching one of his thighs between her legs, suddenly desperate for friction. He obliged by pressing his leg firmly into her crotch and allowing her to rock against it as he attacked her other nipple, sucking it into his mouth and lashing at it with the tip of his tongue.

They lie tangled together, grinding and licking and biting until the world beyond the sofa slipped away into a gray mist of insignificance and there was only need and the promise of fulfillment.

She was sucking with great concentration on his earlobe when he pulled away slightly to unfasten his jeans, and then hers, and then it was skin on skin all the way to their toes. His fingers found the patch of damp curls between her legs and she opened to him without hesitation. His touch there called up all of the tension that had plagued her body and mind, and fixed it at the point at which his fingers swirled and pinched and rubbed. She began to shudder uncontrollably.

"Cor, pet, you like that, don't you? An' this?" He slid two fingers deeply inside her and began a slow massage of her inner walls. Her breath caught in her chest and he saw tears threatening to spill.

"Please...I need..."

"Shhh, luv, I've got you." She felt his fingers slip away to be replaced by something larger, something pulsing. She entwined her legs with his and jerked him closer in a move more aggressive than he was expecting.

"Hmmm...there's the Slayer I know an'--" He was cut off by her upward thrust. She engulfed him, searing him and shutting off his power of speech.

She grabbed his ass and began to rock, holding him deep as she ground herself against him. He allowed her to continue for several seconds before pulling away from her and rising up to his knees. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he lifted and flipped her over, clutching her hips and slamming himself back into her with a savagery that shocked them both.

"Buffy...ohgodohfuck...sofuckingood..."

"Spike, please Spike...I need..."

He slid his left hand across her abdomen and delved deeply between the folds of her vulva, stroking her clit in a circular pattern. He felt her tense beneath him and stopped thrusting, pressing himself hard inside her and then holding perfectly still while increasing the pressure and speed of his fingers over her exquisitely sensitive flesh.

She felt as if she were deep under water and swimming hard toward the suface. Her lungs felt as if they would burst and her limbs ached with the effort of reaching for release. She could see her goal, could taste it--her entire body yearned for those few moments of pure physical bliss, but it eluded her. She bit hard on her lip and moaned pitifully.

Sensing her frustration, he leaned in close to her ear, never ceasing the tormenting strokes of his fingers, and whispered, his voice deepened by his struggle for control.

"I want to make you explode...I want to make you shatter into little bits...come on, luv...feel it...feel how sweet this is..."

The first wave caught her by surprise, causing a choked-off cry to fall from her lips. Then she was breaching the surface, filling her lungs with sweet air as her body convulsed.

He felt her tighten around him as she began to buck and writhe, nearly knocking him off balance. He righted himself and commenced to thrust, meeting each spasm with a hard crash of his pelvis against her. Pulling a huge breath into his chest, he roared as he went soaring into the stratosphere, his body jerking mindlessly as he ejaculated.

She slumped beneath him, feeling perfectly at peace for the first time since her return from the Great Beyond. No worry or doubt plagued her, no bitterness darkened her thoughts. She sunk into the sofa, enjoying the pleasant throbbing of her body and the occasional sharp spasm that still assaulted her.

He disengaged himself and dropped down next to her, curling around her protectively.

"You all right, luv?"

"Mmmm...so all right...so very all right. Why the heck didn't we do that before?"

"Never the right time, I expect."

"No. I've been a moron and you've been very patient. You deserve a reward." Her eyes drifted shut and a tiny smile played about her lips.

"A reward, eh?"

"Yeah. Something very...reward-like. Right after I take a little nap, OK?"

As she fell asleep, he placed a gentle kiss on her brow and stood up, covering her with his ratty blanket. He dressed in silence and commenced to clean up the mess they'd made of the living room, righting the coffee table and searching for stray pumpkin seeds.

Then he disappeared into the kitchen in search of a candle.

***************************************

When Dawn returned home later that evening, she was surprised to be greeted by a glowing jack o' lantern grinning at her from the top of the porch steps. She stood and stared at the face on the pumpkin for several moments. It wasn't particularly scary, but instead looked quite pleased with itself. In fact, something about its statement reminded her of...

"Spike..."

She entered the house to find Buffy deeply asleep on the sofa, a radiant smile illuminating her features.

"Wow. Something sure made you happy."

As if in response to her sister's comment, Buffy shifted in her sleep and mumured a name beneath her breath.

"Spike..."

Grinning to herself, Dawn patted her sister on the head before climbing the stairs to bed.