She's here.
Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. She. Is. Here.
I am cool. I am calm. I am collected.
I want to kiss her and never stop.
Don't go there. Don't even go near there. In fact, turn and run as fast as you can.
She smells so good.
"Hi, Angel," Buffy said, somewhat awkwardly.
"Buffy." You know her name. I am so proud of you.
"How are...things?" she asked.
"Things are...good," I replied. I am such a moron.
She's so tiny.
"How's Spike?"
"Do you want..." I gestured to the elevator behind me. "Would you like to see him?"
"Do you have him locked up in the dungeon or something?" Buffy said, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth.
A sweet, succulent, pouty mouth, with ripe, luscious lips that beg for kissing.
Oh god.
"No, my, uh...I live downstairs." And sometimes they let me out when I've been good.
"Is it a big place?" Buffy asked, walking towards the elevator.
Right towards me.
Run!
"Bigger than my old place,' I answered, stepping into the elevator behind her and closing the grate. "Much smaller than the mansion."
I pressed the button for down, then turned to face her and plastered myself against the side wall as far away from her as I could.
They really need to make these elevators larger.
She is so sexy. I'm going to be taking a cold shower for the next week. Buffy licked her lips in an unconscious manner.
Make that the next month.
"Spike," I squeaked, then cleared my throat and tried again as we stepped out of the elevator. "Spike. We have a visitor."
I saw my Childe over near the entry to the bedroom, standing close to the side wall. His face held that wary expression that I loathe.
Then I see his face brighten slightly when he sees Buffy.
Growl.
My Buffy.
"Hi, Spike," Buffy greeted him, walking further into my home. "How are you?"
"Surviving," Spike replied, then lowered his eyes to stare at the floor.
Buffy looked up at me and said quietly, "Excuse us a second, will you?"
She is so damn beautiful.
I nod and watch as she walked over to my beautiful boy. Spike stiffened perceptively, and I wanted to run over and pull the threat to him away.
Oh yeah, I'm not screwed up.
And it's a good thing Buffy's coat is covering her ass. That perfect, rounded, sexy ass that I can cup perfectly with my hands as I hold her against...
Make that a year.
They're talking too low for me to hear. I should have asked her to see if she could get him out of his clothes so I could wash them.
Wait a second, she'd better not be able to get him out of his clothes!
Snarl.
My Buffy.
"Let me see," I manage to pick up. Not because they are talking any louder, but because I'm inching my way closer to them.
Spike suddenly looked over at me and I feign nonchalance. I'm just standing here, acting like a post. Yep, doing nothing more than that. I'm a post.
I'm pathetic.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him nod his head and escort Buffy further into the bedroom.
Where the bed is.
I stop pretending to be a post and quietly stalk over to the bedroom. That's my bed and my Buffy and if anyone is going to be with my Buffy on my bed it's going to be me! She's mine. I marked her. I don't care if you are my beautiful Childe, that's my property...
I stopped in my tracks and stared as my boy pulled his tee-shirt off, facing away from Buffy and towards the back wall of the bedroom.
There's a bar code tattooed on Spike's back. On his right shoulder blade.
But that's not why I stopped. It was Buffy's quiet voice that made me wish the bastards were still alive so I could kill them all over again.
"...pried those out of your back. It looks healed."
"Thanks," I heard Spike say. Then I silently backed up, turned and made my way to the opposite side of the apartment. If I didn't, I would have demanded to know what happened.
Or I would have grabbed my Childe up in a tight embrace and never let him go.
I want to kill something.
I need to kill something.
"I'm going out."