GOING ONCE (19/?)
 

Willow paced nervously across her floor, her bottom lip becoming red from
being drawn up between her teeth. She smoothed her hand over her shirt, her
green eyes looking down and doing a quick inventory. She was wearing a
sleeveless cotton shirt and blue jeans. Nothing all that becoming, though the
shirt was a pretty burnt orange that she thought looked good with her hair
and complexion. This was the night of simple. That was how she had started to
think about it, at least. The simple date. As if any true date with Spike
would ever be simple. Thankfully, this wasn't a true date. This was a friend
helping out another friend. Yeah, that's all it was. She was just being a
good friend. She sat on the edge of her bed, running a hand over her face and
through her hair. Who was she kidding? She hadn't even been this nervous the
first time that she and Oz had gone out on a real date. Her mind might know
that this was just a friendly outing, but her body and heart just wouldn't
listen. She had wanted this so desperately, wanted nothing more than for him
to ask her out, well, check that. She may have wanted more, but that was
usually when she was laying in bed and....She groaned as she fell back on her
bed, wondering if she had enough strength to make it through not only one but
five 'friendly' dates with the one man that could turn her on with just a
word. As Spike might say, not bloody likely.
 

She stood, her eyes looking at the small alarm clock on her bedside table.
They had agreed for the date to begin at 8. It was not five till. She
couldn't put it off any longer. She grabbed a light coat, knowing that even
in the spring, Sunnydale could get rather cool at night. She opened her door,
not seeing anyone in the hall. She saw that Spike's door was still closed,
wondered if he had changed his mind and decided that this wasn't a good idea,
then chalked it up to nerves. She went down the stairs, deciding that she
would wait for him in the living room. She had no idea what they were doing
that night. The infuriating vampire had clammed up the night before after he
had announced their research project. She had seen him earlier that day, but
he'd just smiled and not said a word. She'd been tempted to pull down one of
her new heavy curtains to threaten him into telling her something, but then
she'd remembered that the vacuum was upstairs and she wasn't really in the
mood to bring it down, so she'd just smiled back, her eyes flashing annoyance.
 

She sat on the couch, looking towards the stairs and frowning. According to
the clock, it was 8. All she heard was silence from upstairs. Where was he?
She leaned back, a worried look entering her eyes. What if he had been so
horrified at the idea of dating her, even in the course of research, that he
had run away? Or maybe he had found someone else to help him 'research', some
leggy blonde that was all too happy to help. She stood at that thought,
calling up, "Spike? Are you ready yet?"
 

No answer.
 

A growl from her as she said louder, "Spike! Get that undead ass down here.
Let's go!"
 

Again, no answer.
 

She was about to call out again when the doorbell rang. She glanced towards
it, her eyes narrowing in irritation. She had told Buffy earlier that she had
plans that night, though she had deliberately been vague about what they
entailed. Hell, she didn't even know herself so it hadn't been lying. Trust
the slayer to not let it go. She opened the door, a sarcastic remark on her
lips for her best friend, "Buffy, give it up...."
 

Her words faded as she saw the blonde standing there, a lazy smile on his
handsome face. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes sweeping over her casually
dressed form, leaving a scorching path in their wake. "Wrong blonde, pet."
 

She swallowed, hard, as she looked at him. He shouldn't be allowed to be that
sexy. There should be a law or something. She'd have to write congress,
later. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that fit him in all the
right places paired with a white T-shirt. She was shocked first to see him in
white, a color that she honestly doubted he knew existed. Secondly, he wasn't
wearing black jeans and his leather duster was nowhere to be seen. Spike
without the duster was strange, almost like Buffy without her cross. It was a
part of him. Not that she was really complaining. Without the heavy leather,
she was able to get a clear view of him, of the shirt that molded smooth
muscles that her hands were aching to touch, of the worn jeans that made her
wonder if he was wearing anything under them. She heard him chuckle and her
eyes flew away from those parts she shouldn't have been looking to look into
amused blue eyes. She felt a slow blush creeping over her face as she said,
"Spike."
 

"See something you like, luv?" he drawled, her arousal already making his
demon fight for control. What the hell had he been thinking last night? Five
nights with her without tossing her to the ground and riding her to
exhaustion. This was worse torture than listening to Peaches sing. And he was
the only one to blame for this. Maybe he was turning into a masochist,
enjoying creating his own torturous pain.
 

"I thought you were upstairs," she said hurriedly, not wanting him to know
where her thoughts were going. Not wanting him to know that she was seriously
tempted to say fuck it and just kiss him.
 

"This is a date, pet," he reminded with a smile, knowing that he had caught
her.
 

"Not a real date," she said, turning to find her coat.
 

Spike moved behind her, his words soft, "Isn't it, luv?"
 

She turned, gasping when she realized how close he was. She struggled for a
breath, trying to ignore the fact that she could move just an inch and she'd
be touching him. She tried to remember what they had been talking about,
finally managing to say, "No, it's research. For the auction. You don't have
to pretend."
 

"I'd never pretend with you, Red," he said, his words serious, too serious he
realized as he took a step back, an easy smile crossing his lips, "this is
for that silly questionnaire so we're doing it right. I'd pick her up at her
door, like a gentleman. Besides, can't really tell them that I live with you,
now can I luv? Might get a wee bit suspicious."
 

"Yeah, you're right," she said softly, relaxing slightly as he moved a bit
farther away. "I just didn't think you'd be that detailed. I thought you were
upstairs and got a bit worried....."
 

"Ah, I see," he said, smiling softly as he saw her insecurities and doubts
flash on her face before she hid them away. "I'd never stand you up, Red. Was
just making a few final arrangements for our date."
 

She tried to ignore that he could make the word date sound like something
forbidden and so erotic with that husky and sexy voice, but her body reacted,
her nipples tightening against the soft cotton and a fresh wave of
butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She decided that she shouldn't have
worn panties. They were just going to be soaked by the end of the night.
"Yeah, the date. I'm ready."
 

"You look beautiful," he said, mentally adding delicious, sexy and
overdressed. He picked up his duster and put it on, hearing her soft sigh and
glancing at her from beneath lowered lids. She was looking at him as if he
were a piece of chocolate cake and she was on a strict diet. He straightened,
seeing her look away and busy herself with her own coat. He moved towards
her, taking the coat from her shaky hands and holding it for her to slide on.
He deliberately let his fingers touch her shoulders, noticing that she leaned
in for the touch before straightening and flashing him a smile.
 

"Yeah, right. But thanks," she said, moving towards the door. She knew she
wasn't by any means beautiful, and especially not in an old pair of jeans a
plain cotton shirt. She looked back at him, surprised to see him watching her
with something akin to lust. Shaken, she asked, "You ready?"
 

He nodded, taking her hand and holding it with a possessive grip as they
stepped into the cool night air. "Let's go. Date one officially begins now."

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