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Part 3...
 

When Buffy woke up the following morning, she felt sated, relaxed and... totally completely astonished. She recalled what had happened last night with Spike pretty clearly (and when she did – recall it, that is – she wound up with a burning blush on her cheeks and a delicate throb between her legs for her trouble.) She couldn't believe she'd allowed him to get away with... doing that to her.

Not that it was a bad thing. Far from it.

On the contrary -- it felt amazing. She couldn't fathom some of the things his fingers had done to her, the extra areas he'd found, and the motions his fingers had introduced. Spike had lit an icefire inside of her, making her insides melt, freeze, clutch, and burn all at once. Her eyes flashed and her head fell back as she remembered the feeling of her orgasm. Christ; she could've sworn there had been fireworks going off.

Sigh. This was not good. Thinking of Spike was gonna drive her insane. And in her mind, Crazy Buffy somehow just didn't seem as effective as Sane Slayer Buffy was.

Besides. She had to focus on what she was gonna do about her stupid, self-righteous, overbearing, bossy, controlling, over-protective, bordering right on the freaking edge of becoming an ex, boyfriend.

<<riiiiiinnnnng!!!!!>>

Speak of the devil.

She sighed heavily and wearily picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she asked. A sharp intake of breath was heard on the other line.

"Buffy?" She sighed. Well, duh; who else would have the misfortune of having to wake up at this hour?

"Hi, Riley," she replied, making sure to keep a cool, curt tone in her voice.

"Buffy. We need to talk." Buffy paused for a minute to roll her eyes. He probably thought he was being the Big Man of the relationship. Bleggh.

"Yeah, we do." Riley gave a soft, relieved breath, and Buffy smirked. He was scared shitless!

"Yeah. So, I'll come over tonight, uh, around nine. We'll, uh... talk before you go on patrol. If we can, um, get something sorted out, then I'll go with you. Good?"

"Sure, good, yeah. See you tonight, then, Riley."

"Okay. I love you." Initiating Buffy auto-response. Set for: LIE, LIE, LIE!

"I love you, too. And I really hope we can work something out, sweetie. I'll be waiting for you. Bye," she said in a sickly sweet innocent voice – the one Riley enjoyed listening to over (and over, and over, and over again) in bed.

"B—"

<<click>>

Buffy growled as she slammed down the phone and got up to get dressed. Right now, she didn't love Riley. She was sick to death and pissed off at Riley and ready to cut off his dick. And she wasn't anywhere NEAR hopeful for a reconciliation. She didn't get a chance to be angry too often anymore, and she wanted to relish it. And a good way to release anger was either by pounding on Giles, or by hearing what Riley had to say, then beating on him for "training."

Damn.

Well, THAT was a fan-fucking-tastic way to start the day.

Spike grinned evilly to himself as he walked around the upper level of the crypt, barefoot. Ha! He'd brought off the Slayer! And he knew – he knew – that she'd been thinking of him when she came – the upside to a claiming. Even though she hadn't acknowledged the claim, he'd had her blood. Therefore, without her even knowing it, she was bonded to him. He could sense her every feeling, and hear her every thought, even though she couldn't sense his feelings, or hear his thoughts. Yet.

That grin had been stuck on his face ever since he'd gotten back to the crypt. After his initial irritation at his poofy attitude toward Buffy last night, his smugness and pride at what he'd done had fully overtaken him. He'd made her scream, cum, and moan – things he never thought would ever happen. Not with her. And that muscle-bound moron of a boyfriend of hers had no fucking clue.

<Yet,> he giddily added, rubbing his hands together with a superior smirk on his face. God... he was SO gonna be there when the shit hit the fan.

Hey, the dickhead had it coming. Spike had been put through absolute hell when he'd first discovered the chip, and it was ALL Army Fuck's fault. Him and the stupid fucking Initiative.

Okay, enough about that. He needed to contemplate his next move in his seduction of the Slayer.

He'd kissed her, and unless she was completely barmy, she had felt the feeling behind it. She'd obviously liked it; Spike licked his lips as he remembered the feel of her lips pressing back fiercely against his. He wondered... well, he'd fingered her now. That had, hopefully, given her a taste of just how damn good he really was. And apparently, his little Slayer was having problems with the big lunkhead, so he was already on his way.

Shit, she'd been so tight. She'd been with three people (and had apparently done it more than once with the latter two; he convulsed slightly and shivered as he imagined Dickhead's hands on his girl), but her entrance had still been nearly virginal. Hmmm... maybe his next move should be a little... stretch test.

He sat back on the sarcophagus as he imagined what he could do. He would draw her in, make her feel comfortable and safe around him. She'd soon want him enough that she'd go crazy if she weren't touching him in some way. He'd smile as he watched Buffy kick the prick out of the picture. Then possibly, he'd scent him, find him, and drain... no. His blood was filled with just enough goofy, irregular schoolboy crap that Spike would probably contract whatever it was the boy had stuck firmly up his ass. No, he wouldn't drain him. Finn's blood wasn't even worthy to be on Spike's hands.

He'd still kill him, though.

Then, finally, once Buffy was fully reassured about him, finally comfortable, and happy, and with him... possibly in the throes of passion... he'd finally kill her.

Good plan. Not the best, but it was all he could work with. The Scooby crew had most likely been told of his little visit to the land of Slayer's Blood Euphoria. If Buffy hadn't been completely, fully affected by his claim... and hadn't jumped in to defend him, or at least calm them down... then, shit, Giles himself was gonna plow in any second now and rip him a new one before he killed him.

Spike's eyes widened.

<Please let the claim have worked, please let the claim have worked, please let the claim have worked...>

A half-hour later, and he was still chanting the mantra. Luckily, nobody had come storming in through the door of the crypt with the flames of hell blazing after them, so he figured he was safe. For now.

Sigh. The only problem with his little scheme was that he was starting to have weird, gooshy feelings for the Slayer. Bad! Bad, bad, bad! Very bad. Especially in his line of business, and most particularly for him. He was the Slayer of two Slayers. And now he was falling for his third – the one he couldn't kill. The one he wanted to kill.

Didn't wanna kill.

Did.

Didn't.

Did.

Didn't!

Where the hell did his demon stand in this whole damn decision, anyway?!

And what the fuck was wrong with him?

He couldn't help it though! (insert whine here.) Somehow, he... felt connected to her, and not just by way of her blood. There was something electric in the air whenever he was around her, even a mile within her vicinity. And he was always thinking of her, now. It was blissful and frustrating at the same time. Back when Dru had dumped him, it had been because of his seemingly endless obsession with the Slayer. She was seeing what he couldn't. She could see the Slayer, invading his thoughts.

And it hadn't been visions of her death that she had seen.

Buffy smiling. Buffy laughing. Buffy sad. Buffy angry. Buffy dancing (with stupid pals). Buffy being brave. Buffy fighting. Buffy fighting him. Buffy pounding on him. Buffy straddling him. Buffy straddling his cock. Buffy fucking him. Buffy fucking ONLY him. Buffy fucking him a lot. Buffy moaning. Buffy screaming. Buffy cumming. Buffy cumming hard. Buffy cumming hard all over him...

Okay, yeah, he was getting carried away.

He stopped, then shrugged. Eh. He had a while till sunset. A couple of more Buffy-fantasies wouldn't hurt.

He grinned, ran his hand over his taut stomach, then plopped back in his recliner.

Not even a second later, and his jeans were on the ground, his head rolled back, eyes shut, smile on, hands stroking feverishly, hips thrusting desperately.

Sigh... sweet release.

"Well, he's got good reason to want to protect you. You are his girlfriend, and he loves you, Buffy. He doesn't want you to get hurt, ya know?" Willow was trying as hard as she could to understand why Buffy was so pissed at her boyfriend. Really hard.

To think, it had all only started last week. And over what? Spike getting his chip out. That had resulted in the Scoobies' main couple having their relationship slipping and sliding, and occasionally free-falling downhill.

Spike hadn't even been seen since then. He was completely incommunicado. Either that, or Riley had gone out against Buffy's orders and dusted him. She truly, truly hoped that wasn't the case, because as much of a sinister force as Spike was now without the chip, she liked the Master vampire. Well, save for his (always inevitable) cruel jabs. But otherwise, he tended to be a pretty good listener. He gave good advice, and he really, truly did seem almost human at times. He had feelings, for God's sake. All in all, Spike was a nice guy when he wasn't threatening to kill them... although that hadn't happened in a really long time... oh, and that was another thing. Killing.

There'd been none.

There hadn't been any reports of Spike going on a psychopathic rampage and killing everyone and everything in sight. Buffy, on a whim, had gone to check out the butcher's, and received some startling information – Spike was still getting baggy blood there.

Oh. Yeah. And then there was the minor fact that SPIKE HADN'T KILLED BUFFY.

<Yet,> a tiny, timid voice inside her mind whimpered. She shrugged off the bad vibes and turned her attention back to Buffy. She was describing the talk she'd had with Riley the day after they found out about Spike's little bite-an'-slurp.

"... and he had the nerve to say that HE forgave ME for yelling at him last week! Like I'M the fucking bad guy here! I mean... not that Riley's the bad guy, but... UGH, this is so frustrating! I love him, and I love being with him, and I'm glad he's here. The thing is, I used to love hearing him talk big and see him take charge when he was coming with me to take out baddies. But now, it's like... every time he opens his mouth, I just wanna strangle him!" Buffy was nearly in tears. Feeling this way was so exhausting and heart wrenching. And, god, to top it all off, Spike had apparently developed some sort of sexual interest in her, and THAT in itself had thrown her for a loop. Not just a normal loop. Oh, no, this was Spike she was dealing with here. Spike had loops, and Spike's loops were the kind of loops on a goddamn roller coaster; the kind that tossed you around three or four times until you were completely immobile for fear of puking.

First, there had been his little impromptu grind session with her on the floor of Doctor Overheiser's office. Then there had been that little incident in her bedroom, when he'd tied her up, lit her on fire, then ignited something even warmer when he'd... kissed her...

She caught her eyes glazing and bolted upright again.

<Whoops, train derailing. Get your thoughts back on TRACK, Buff!>

Just recently, Spike had returned to her bedroom again, with the handcuffs. Two nights ago, in fact. He'd done the exact same things to her. Except this time, it had been extended and a little more... lewd. The image of something long, thick and hard, with shiny, light blue plastic... something that happened to belong to her... popped into her head, and she tried (hard) not to become a ripe tomato. Instead, she turned her focus back onto her griping.

"Seriously, you should've heard the condescending tone he was using with me. He was treating me like a four year old, and GOD, I was so ready to just whap him across the room! Who the hell gives him the right to talk down to me the way he did? Just because he's a freaking psych major, and thinks he knows all there is to know about Buffy Summers... argh...."

Willow didn't exactly know what to say to her. When Angel had been the problem, she somehow knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say to try and comfort the Slayer. But now, with Riley... they'd seemed so perfect at first. Now... now it appeared that Riley wanted the active role in what Buffy could or couldn't do. He wanted to take control and commandeer Buffy's life. Buffy was beside herself, not knowing what to do. And Willow, for once, had no idea what to do for her.

She hated to say it, but it looked like break-up was imminent in the future. Poor Buffy was aching over the way things were going.

Question was, why didn't she seem too heartbroken about Splitsville?

 Fighting.

GOD. The rush of it all. The adrenaline pumping through your system. The blood rushing through your veins. Buffy rolled back on the balls of her feet in excitement as a particularly large vampire approached her, baring his teeth and snarling. He tilted his head, sniffing once. A large smile curled on his face as he recognized her scent. The scent of strength and power. The scent of...

"Mmmm. The Slayer," he hissed through a row of ugly, gnarled teeth.

 Buffy grinned back wickedly.

"Compost," she greeted back, then whipped out her stake. Seconds until dusting: ninety and counting.

The vampire barged toward her, and Buffy, scooched to the side, just barely avoiding being bulldozed by the behemoth. Instead of turning around, she cartwheel-ed forward, then flipped once, landing in a crouch, facing him.

And THEN, she rushed him.

The dull thud of skin against skin echoed across the graveyard. Buffy was thrilled. She hadn't had a good challenge in a while, ever since a certain someone (*coughcough*spike*coughcough*) had avoided her for the past three days. It had already been two minutes and forty seconds since they'd begun, and Buffy wasn't planning on ending it any time soon.

Apparently Big, Gross and Burly had other plans. He grabbed Buffy by her neck, lifted her up and slammed her down painfully hard onto a large, flat tombstone. Buffy moaned softly from the pain. Fuck... if that hadn't broken her back, then it at LEAST had to have cracked some ribs. This could prove to be bad.

Still, she got up and continued to fight. <Ever the trooper, Buff.>

Right hook, left upper cut, roundhouse kick, quick right jab, knee to the groin. Hah, that always got th—

Whoa. She hadn't expected that.

Suddenly, she was flat on her back, looking up at the sky, with a big, heavy vampire on top of her, lowering his face to her neck. She tensed and bucked roughly, letting out a whimper of displeasure. She felt something cloudy surround her immediately, covering her with a powerful haze and suddenly, the vamp bolted straight up, staring at her almost in fear. He got up to run and made it about five paces before a swish of green and brown dashed past her.

And then he was dust.

Buffy sat up and looked around in confusion until she found her savior. Then sighed in annoyance as Riley got in her line of sight. He walked toward her with a stern, angry look on his face before grabbing her arm and jerking her up. She let out a cry of pain and grabbed at her ribs, then jerked away from him furiously, glaring with an almost feral look about her eyes. Either Riley didn't even notice, or her played it off really well. He shook his head.

"God, what is it with you, Buffy? I think you were right about being a vampire chew toy. Only difference is that I think you like it. You can't seem to get enough of it!" She scowled angrily at the man that had once been the center of her world.

"Oh, yeah, Riley. I just love feeling teeth in my neck and getting sucked away from life. That's the reason I let Angel, Dracula and Spike all have me, you know. In fact, that's why I keep Spike around. I'm like his very own little blood tap. If he'd just drank the tiniest bit more, I could be free of this life, and free of you, Mr. Bossy, Controlling Guy!" she finished lamely. Ferocity entered his eyes the minute she had mentioned Angel and Spike. Two vampires that happened to be "related," and who both had an interest in the Slayer. On different levels, of course, but Riley was starting to suspect a common connection working in with the younger vampire. The same sort of connection his Sire had had with Buffy. Buffy lowered her eyes and watched his fists clench and unclench. She looked back up at his face, and saw that his teeth were clenching tightly as well.

"Maybe I should get some vamp to turn me, then. Seeing as how only walking corpses can get your attention, maybe I should get your precious Spike to turn me. Since you seem to like being such a vamp whore --" Her eyes widened, then reacted on instinct, hauling off and punching him brutally in the face. He let out a cry and fell, clutching his nose, his eyes staring up at her in astonishment.

She'd hit him. She'd actually hit him!

"You mother fucker. Get the hell away from me. Leave. Leave before I tear you apart and shove a goddamn telephone pole up your ass! Get the fuck away from me, and don't you DARE try to talk to me! Don't talk to me again unless it's an apology that's coming out of that fat mouth of yours! You... you disgust me right now, and I have no idea how I could've put up with your bullshit for so long. Go!" Riley stared at her, breathing harshly out of his mouth, before his eyes lowered. Talk about the Royal Fuck-Up. This one truly took the cake. He'd reacted too strongly on some strange form of jealousy, and now she hated him. He got up, still holding his nose, and started to walk off. He turned back hopefully when she called his name.

"Riley," she called, tilting her head. "About getting Spike to turn you... Don't ever joke around about that, because..." Her expression hardened. "Spike wouldn't even bother to touch your blood with his boots, let alone suck it straight out of a jackass like you." Riley's eyes widened with hurt, and he turned away again, stumbling out of the cemetery in shock.

No... THAT was the Royal Fuck-Up.

Buffy drew a deep breath and exhaled, closing her eyes. And amazingly, a calm, settling peace washed over her. She smiled. Hah! Who'd've thunk it? Breaking it off with Riley had done the trick. She felt more calm and relaxed now than she'd been since Spike had last left her.

Speaking of...

Her neck tingled and a shiver ran straight down her back. She turned around, yelping when she came face to face with the tall, well-muscled bloodsucker. He gently ran a single finger down her bare shoulder.

"Been wondering when you'd get the hint."

He hadn't been spying on her. Really, he hadn't. Okay, so maybe he had, early on in the night, but up until around ten minutes ago, he'd been cuddled up in his crypt, trying to watch Nick at Nite. He'd felt something shoot through him, and a warning light go off in his head. The feeling was directly linked with Buffy, and he figured something was wrong, so he'd jumped up and dashed out of his crypt. When he'd gotten to the little clearing, he'd spotted a fat-ass vamp about to chow down on the tiny girl. He'd smirked when the vamp had suddenly scented Spike's mark, right when the claim took control, protecting her from the oversized blob. The grin had grown wider when he'd jumped up and ran off in fear.

THEN the grin had shrunk into a frown when he saw that Asshole had taken him out.

The grin had come back when Buffy had decked him, then told him to get the hell out. And by the time Buffy had told him the bit about his blood, Spike's entire head could've been considered one huge, fangy grin. Two thoughts ran clearly and coherently through his head. The first was <About fucking time!>

The second was <GOD, I love her.>

Buffy stared up at the bleached vampire, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. Spike licked his lower lip. Dammit; he'd wanted to mess with her head a little first, piss her off and tease her a bit. But now... looking at her, all hot and blushy and sweaty and tousled and almost anticipating of what he'd do...

Fuck. Now he was just horny. Hungry, too, but mostly horny. His dick seemed to be doing all of the thinking for him the more he was around Buffy. He pulled her close and flashed her a pleased smile as she gasped. His erection, fully hard and straining, reaching out to her, was nestled firmly against the taut muscles of her stomach. Buffy whimpered softly as heat flooded between her legs. Ohhh, bad. So... so, bad... but good. Oh, good. Oh, god, so good... no, no, no, BAD!

<Come on, Buff, you can control yourself in front of him. Don't let him completely turn you into a big pile of Buffy mush. Don't let him control you. Stay strong. All you have to do is just... stay... strong.>

Spike leaned into her and nuzzled her neck for a moment, placing a kiss softly over her scars. Lifting his head, he kissed her forehead, then led a trail down to her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and her chin, gently trying to coax her out of the little shell she seemed content to stay in. When she finally let her guard down, Spike grasped the back of her head roughly, and shoved his lips to hers, his unwittingly elongated fangs providing extra brutality in what was otherwise a completely passionate kiss. Buffy let out a sharp, pained, muffled cry and braced her hands against his chest, trying to pull away. When Spike refused to let go, Buffy resorted to violence, and brought her knee up between them.

Spike let out a howl and grabbed his midsection, backing away and staring at her with flashing yellow eyes. And suddenly, he was met with a hard, cruel punch to the jaw, one so powerful that it sent him flying back three feet. He promptly shot up, and let out a vicious growl, launching himself at her and grasping her shoulders tightly, switching instinctively to game face. He cocked his head, smirking at her evilly.

"You're gonna wish you hadn't a done that, luv," he growled. Buffy jerked out of his grip, and threw another punch at him.

"The only thing I'm wishing is that I'd dusted you when you came back to Sunnydale, Spike," she spat, punctuating her sentence with a hit to the gut and, as he doubled over, a kick to the back of his legs, sending him down. Spike grasped her leg as he hit the grass and jerked her down with him, catching her completely off guard. He grinned.

"So we're gonna dance, then, are we, Slayer?" She jumped up before he had a chance to cover her, and executed a kick to the head.

"This isn't dancing, Bleach Boy. This is me, kicking your sorry ass all over town for the five-hundredth time!" She stood over him and bashed him in the side of the head as soon as he got onto his knees. A complete and utter mistake, as Spike now had easy aim toward her middle and assaulted her with a barrage of punches to the gut. She gave just as good as she got, returning a punch for a punch, jab for a jab, kick for a kick.

Spike was in heaven.

Or as close as he could get, anyway.

He was getting harder by the minute, and was eager to finish the fight so that he could take her back to the crypt and engage in some, uh... Olympic acrobatics.

It was probably a bad idea for his more southern brain to bring that up, because now he was fully distracted. He didn't even notice it when Buffy somersaulted over his head, landing behind him. He did notice, however, when she kicked him down and shoved his face to the ground. She sat on top of him and dug her knee into his back, grasping his hands and holding him down forcefully (which was probably a mistake; Spike seemed to like that too much.) She leaned down to speak in his ear, and he had to hold back a moan as he felt her small, humble, soft breasts press against him.

"I don't know what you've been thinking about lately, or what weird fixations have been dancing around in your head, but I want it to stop. Now. Whatever this sick fascination is that you have with me, I want you to get over it. No more coming into my room at night, no more chaining me to the bed, no more following me on patrol," she narrowed her eyes, and he had the decency to look sheepish through the un-smooshed part of his face, "no more anything. Don't toy around with me. I have a job to do, and you're keeping me from doing it. But for some godforsaken reason, something is telling me not to just be done with you right now. For now, Spike, just back off. Because next time I won't hesitate to put a redwood through your chest."

Spike let out a quiet growl – much like the one that he'd used to subdue her at the doctor's – and Buffy instantly quieted down. For some weird reason, she felt chastised and apologetic. From Spike's growl, he sounded like he was reprimanding her for disobeying him, like a mother would a child.

And abruptly, she yelped as Spike knocked her off of him, then crawled on top of her, holding all her limbs down. His icy fingers ran over her cheek and down her neck as his body settled comfortably over hers.

"Now I know you don't mean any of that, pet," he replied in a deep, rumbling voice. Buffy avoided his eyes – somehow, she knew that staring into those hypnotic blue pools would immediately incapacitate her. It was a definite weak spot, and a BIIIIIIIIIIG no-no. "I'm sure you know better'n to threaten me. Be a good little chit, or I'll hafta punish you..." He smiled at her satanically. "Unless you want me to punish you." The tone of his voice indicated that Spike's idea of punishment was very obviously anything but an actual punishment. He lowered his head to her neck, his teeth sharp and at the ready to pierce her skin. She felt cool, useless air on her neck, and suddenly, she panicked, bucking him off of her and scrambling to her feet. Staring at him, breathing hard and wide-eyed, she raised a finger at him.

"Stay away from me, Spike. I mean it. Leave me alone. I don't know what's going on with you, or me for that matter, but I don't wanna kill you. Don't give me a reason to." She continued to back away slowly, keeping an eye on him the entire time until she was about ten feet away. Then she spun and bolted away.

Spike growled in frustration as he got up. Dammit! Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! Now he was hungry and horny, and HE COULDN'T DO SHIT ABOUT IT!

Well, that wasn't true. He could enjoy a nice toss off right in the middle of the cemetery, but then he might be caught by some big ugly, and that... would be BAD.

But he'd forgotten that he was no longer restricted by the government. He could feed now. He could kill. And he would kill. He'd fucking show that fucking bitch tease just how fucking scared of him she should be.

He wasn't gonna let his hormones get in the way. Next time he saw her, he was gonna rip her throat out.

Of course, he knew he would never actually kill her. <Leave me to my own fucking fantasies, dammit!> he thought defensively at the rational, know-it-all part of his brain.

Anyway.

He smiled at the comforting thought, then shrugged. He was free now, and apparently wasn't gonna get any tonight unless he resorted to Harmony, or his own hand. He might as well go get someone to eat.

Walking out of the cemetery and onto the street in a path that led in the direction opposite of Buffy's home, Spike grumbled, rubbing his stomach. Shit. The little bitch kept getting stronger. That punch had really hurt!

Deciding to try the playground at Sunnydale Elementary School, Spike growled and grinned in pleasure when he saw the inevitable group of teenage kids hanging about and bullshitting around. Stupid kids; most of them had been brought up with rules forbidding them to stay outside in Sunnydale during the night, yet they all still did it anyway. Regular Sunnydale occurrences were quite famous amongst the children who were dumb enough to test the legends.

He walked toward the group and switched on a cool, suave demeanor. Three girls, five boys. All the boys were jock types. Two blonde girls, one brunette. They looked to all be around sixteen or seventeen. Picking up on a sense of nervousness in two of the girls – one of the blondes, and the brunette – Spike turned his attention to the slightly bolder girl. As if sensing him, she turned her head and caught his eye. Her own eyes widened in awe, and took on that dopey love struck look. She bit her lower lip and deftly adjusted her shirt, pulling it down slightly to bear her cleavage. Spike grinned and winked at the little bint; hook, line, and sinker. And all he'd had to do was look at her.

Saying that she needed to go over and check something out (God – er... somebody bless preternatural vampiric hearing) to her friends, he watched her approach the area he'd hidden in questioningly. Stepping out, he gave her a smoldering gaze and tilted his head. It definitely came in handy looking as good as he did. Even if he couldn't ever see himself.

"Hullo, luv. Whatcha doin' out here at this time a night?" he questioned, softening his voice and giving his accent a more uppercrest adjustment. He watched as her smile widened at his accent and chuckled to himself. She looked as if she was about to swoon. Stupid bint had no clue what was in store for her.

"Uh, j-just hanging out, w-with my friends, mister." Spike frowned disdainfully.

"Mister. Makes me sound old as all hell get out. Call me Spike." She nodded quickly and swallowed hard.

"Okay... Spike. Um... what are you doing out here all by yourself?" Spike smiled and walked forward, putting his hands on the girl's shoulders gently. Just before he answered, he shifted into game face and bared his fangs in a wide grin.

"Lookin' for a midnight snack," he growled. Clamping one large hand over the girl's mouth as her eyes widened in fear, he dove lightning quick toward her neck, nearly dying (again) from hunger.

He stopped the second his teeth touched her neck, hearing a terrified little whimper escape her throat. Her heartbeat was drumming to an insane beat. Her blood was rushing in her veins, thrumming about in his ears, and driving him wild with bloodlust, but it was that one sound, that one little whimper, that made him stop. Slowly, he pulled away, his hand still over the girl's mouth, and peered at her through the haze. And as soon as he looked at her, he saw Buffy.

The girl had Buffy's eyes.

They weren't exactly Buffy's eyes, since the Slayer's were a unique swatch of blue, green, gold and brown all in one with the tiniest hint of violet, but they were close enough as possible to the real thing. And instead of as before, when her fear would've delighted him and made him hunger for her more... it made his stomach churn, and he felt sick for what he'd been about to do.

Oh, bloody hell, he felt guilty. Ew. Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew! Ew!

His demon side and human-y side began to battle.

**Buffy would hate you if you killed this girl.

-- But I'm hungry!!!!

**You could go to the goddamn butcher's and get some blood from there!

-- But she's right here and fresh and warm, and it's not like anyone would miss her anyway!

**That isn't true, and you know it.

-- But she's FOOD!

**Well, right now? What's more important? Killing? Or Buffy? You make the choice.

Spike let out a soft groan of disgust, reverting back to his human face. Glaring at the sky, he cursed loudly.

"Since when in the bloody hell did you assholes decide to give me a fucking CONSCIENCE?!" He then sighed and looked sincerely at the girl, peering at her with his beautiful, human blue eyes.

"Get goin', luv. Don't stay out at night in Sunnydale. You might run into someone like me that won't let you go so easy." He tilted his head at her, taking his hand off of her mouth. "Not a word of this to anyone, luv. I might get my ass kicked if anyone found out that ole Spike's gone soft. I've got a rep to maintain," he said, smiling kindly at the girl. The girl nodded quickly, awed and frightened at this monster/man that she'd encountered. She turned to leave, when Spike called out to her again.

"Be careful out here, pet. There's lotsa nasties runnin' around. Gather up your chums and get on home, quick as you can." The girl nodded again, then ventured a tiny smile at the vampire. Spike smiled back gently, then made a shooing motion. He felt like he was with the little Bit right now. Hmph. Dawn's innocence; Buffy's soul. What a way to bring a man down.

When the girl was gone, he turned and walked toward the butcher's, shaking his head and growling.

"Bloody ponce, I am... Feeling bad for some dumb kid... Bloody hell! I've turned into the poof!"
 

TBC...

Part 4...
 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
 

Part 4...

He walked up to Giles' home, letting out a sigh. Things were bad. Very, very bad. He figured that since the Scoobies seemed to need a meeting place, they would most definitely be here. Maybe they'd have some worth of information for him. Anything right now – from any one – would help him out. He knocked on the door as he opened it.

And was met by five very, very angry Scooby faces. The ones that probably worried him the most were the ones from a certain red head and a former Watcher. A certain angry redhead that also happened to be a witch, and a former Watcher that had dabbled in the black arts as a youth.

<This could be bad,> he thought. Finally Xander spoke up, standing up and letting go of Anya. Who he realized looked more excited at the upcoming exchange than vengeful. Xander shot him a sarcastic smirk.

"Riley. To what do we owe... this?" he asked, spreading his arms out and indicating that he really meant, "This isn't your place anymore. Why the fuck are you here?"

That was definitely bad. Xander was giving him the attitude that he only reserved for a particularly annoying bleach blond vamp.

Riley Finn took a deep breath and looked around at the group. Please, please, at least ONE friendly face that wouldn't cast any harsh judgment on him...

Okay, okay, so he'd called Buffy a vamp whore. That was at the very top of the Very Big List of Very Wrong Things to Say to a Slayer. Every single person in this room was close to Buffy in some way – well, except for Willow's, um, girlfriend (the thought that Willow was a lesbian still wigged him out a little). So there was no way that anyone would be on his side here. Willow looked like she was restricting herself from zapping his eyelids shut and siccing some flesh-eating scarab beetles on him. Xander cleared his throat and folded his arms, while Giles stood up, a silent vigil behind him.

"Are we gonna hear an answer sometime today, Commando Boy?" Riley winced. Eeek. Bad. Xander was calling him those – the names that – that Spike had taken to calling him. Damn, he'd made one mistake, and he'd already been dropped lower on the ladder than a soulless, remorseless vampire. The thought made him shudder.

"No, uh... I mean, yeah. Listen, guys, she's really mad at me, and I really want to apologize, believe me, but she won't let me anywhere near her. I was out of my head that night, I don't know what I was thinking. I know I hurt her, and I'm really, REALLY sorry about it. But I need your help. I have to talk to her."

The minute he'd started talking, Willow had gotten up and walked out of the living room toward Giles' study, content to stay angry at Riley, and Tara had followed to calm her down. Anya, sensing some big male thing was coming, had wanted to stay, but knew better. She got up and left the three men alone in the living room to sort things out. This could be bad. He was up against Buffy's surrogate father, and surrogate older brother. There was no way he wasn't gonna get shot down. Xander looked at him.

"Man, you are so lucky that Anya's not a demon anymore, and that Willow just let you off with a Death glare. Otherwise, you'd be Crispy-Fried Riley, right there on the floor. And I doubt Giles is up to cleaning your mess –" Giles held his hand up and shot the dark-haired boy a look.

"Quiet, Xander." Turning to Riley, he considered him for a moment before speaking. "You called her nothing short of a prostitute, Riley. She's never asked for vampires to bite her," he said. "She commanded Angel to in order to save his life. The Master took her blood by force. And she allowed Dracula to, just as she allowed Spike to take her blood. It's a miracle Spike didn't kill her – she and I were both certain that he would've drained her given half the chance. She is the Slayer; every vampire in the world wants a taste of her. Spike has even mentioned to us before that her blood is a powerful and strengthening force. They want it. It's not her fault." Riley rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"I know, I know. It's just, that night, when I found her, I was still a little angry about what she said to me last time. About me trying to control her? I was angry, and frustrated. And then it was coupled with what she'd said about being a vampire chew toy. And when I found her, this big vamp was on top of her, getting ready to bite her. I don't know what she did, though. He was perfectly ready to sink his teeth into her, and then he just took off." Xander raised his eyebrows at the fair-haired boy, thoroughly unimpressed.

"And that led to you believe that she's a vamp whore?" Xander shook his head. "Riley... I don't know what your deal is. And if it's jealousy issues, you need to get them way under control. Otherwise, just get the hell out of Sunnydale, and leave Buffy alone."

Riley watched quietly as Xander turned and left the room. Uh-oh. Alone with Giles. This could be life threatening.

Giles remained quiet for a bit, not facing him. He watched as the older man lifted his hand up to rub his brow. His glasses weren't on. Was that a bad sign? He'd only been around Buffy's friends for a year, and he hadn't exactly gotten a handle on their habits. He was jolted back to reality when Giles turned his head and looked up at him, clearing his throat loudly, his eyes cold and unfeeling.

"I have no idea what possessed you to refer to my charge in the manner you did. Fortunately for you, I have found a way to control my anger over it." He stalked up to Riley, steeling his gaze and looking pure Ripper. "But my method shan't last long. If, and when you make another mistake, you will truly wish you had never tangled with the Slayer." Giles turned to walk out, then fell back to say something else.

"I will do anything to see that Buffy is happy. And I will ensure that my Slayer stays happy. If keeping her far away from you is the way to go about that, then I shall continue to do so. As long as she is content and relaxed in the situation she is in, and competent in her slaying, as she is now, then rest assured you will not come within striking distance of the girl ever again." He scowled, his eyes narrowing. "Get out of my house."

Wow. He'd never encountered Giles in full Ripper force before.

He sighed as Giles left the room before he himself turned to walk out of the door. Buffy was happy without him? Buffy was happy without him? To borrow a Scooby phrase, this was NOT of the good!

He thought she was happy with him. At least, that was what she'd always told him. Something was wrong, something had to be wrong. He couldn't just be out of the picture like –that- could he? He couldn't live without this girl. And he was pretty damn sure it was the same on her end. Something had to be manipulating her, making her seem happy and fine, when truthfully, she must be miserable inside without him there!

Channeling Cordelia Chase. Hold please.

Calling all ego-maniacs, please report to Riley Finn. We repeat, all ego-maniacs, please report to Riley Finn at headquarters. Make sure your ego's been fully inflated. Twenty times its own size is the minimum limit.

He shook his head and walked back to his apartment. Where the hell had that come from?

Something was up with Buffy, and he had a vague feeling that he knew who was behind it. He'd get to the bottom of this, even if it killed him.

Which, knowing Sunnydale, it probably would.

Spike stormed through the graveyard, kicking down headstones left and right and snorting with satisfaction when they hit the ground and crumbled.

Needless to say, he was pissed off.

It was three days later, and he was still stewing over it. He hadn't killed that girl! Instead, he'd actually let the little bitch go and gone back to the fucking butcher's!

<It's all her fault.>

It was her face he'd seen when he'd attempted to eat the girl. She had stopped him. He'd nearly freaked out – thank God he'd kept his cool. But when his mind's eye had seen Buffy's face in the girl's, he'd honestly thought that he'd made a mistake and attacked the wrong person. The person he had the warm, fuzzy feelings for (he still couldn't bring himself to say the 'L' word – yet) instead of some stupid unsuspecting brat.

That did it. Buffy was dead meat.

He sprang over a headstone, and darted through a few more, never stopping, always running in the direction of her home.

"I'll show her," he muttered, arm shooting out and stabbing a minion without even looking. "I'll show that little bitch. I'll make her pay for tryin' to give me a fuckin' soul. I'll make her pay for gettin' me to pay attention to her an' that stupid brat sis of hers, an' that stupid hair an' stupid perfume. An' the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs. An' those big, puppy dog eyes of hers. An' that silly, soddin' bump on her nose. An' that... GAH! I'm gonna kill her! She's turned me into a fuckin' poofter!"

He nearly ran into a tree from his passion on the topic.

That's when he realized that he was right outside her house. Grumbling, he hoisted himself into the tree and climbed to her window. Looking about as he sat on her sill, he sighed, then climbed inside.

Buffy was content. There wasn't much else to be said but that. Riley hadn't bugged her since that night at the cemetery, and while she felt thoroughly disappointed that he wasn't going to humiliate himself in front of her by getting down on his knees and apologizing, she was glad that she didn't have to put up with his stupid bullshit anymore. And Xander had called her and told her that Giles had told him off. She was actually pleased to be away from him. True, they hadn't actually broken up; they were just apart. Far apart. But that nasty tension that was always there when they were near each other anymore was completely dissolved.

The only thing she wasn't sure about was Spike. She hadn't seen him for three nights, either.

It worried her a little. Spike was as free as a freaking bird now. Nothing could stop him from killing, and she was wigged that he might be hiding out, making plans for her demise. Despite all the touchy-feely-ness that he'd suddenly seemed to develop when he was near her, she was still... yes... scared... that Spike's full reemergence as the Big Bad of Sunnydale would result in her death.

Otherwise, she was just peachy.

"No, really?"

"Yuh-huh. Tara, Anya, Xander, and I were listening from the door. Giles was mad... He was going all Ripper and everything. It was pretty darn freaky, but at the same time, it was soooo cool!"

Buffy laughed. "It serves him right for calling me a whore! I told you he was getting all passive-aggressive on me!" Willow giggled on her end of the line.

"Well, it was fun to watch. Riley didn't even say anything when Giles told him to get out. He just stood there, kinda all 'duh, what do I do now?' until Giles left, and then he walked out the door. I think Giles freaked him out a little too well. The funny thing is, I think Giles is proud of himself for it!" Buffy snorted, turning a corner and heading up the steps to her room.

"Okay, yeah, that's funny. Giles all proud of himself because he scared the hell out of my ignorant boyfriend? God, I wish I could've seen that! Anyway, I've gotta go, Wills. Professor Randall is gonna shit a brick if I fall asleep in class one more time." Willow agreed.

"Same here. And we thought Professor Walsh was a stickler, right? I'll see you tomorrow, Buffy." Buffy yawned as she turned down her hallway, knocking gently on Dawn's door as an indication to turn off the music and go to sleep. She heard the teenager grumble and moan, but do as was implied. "Goodnight, Buffy!" she called out.

"Can do, Wills. Goodnight. Goodnight, Dawnie!"

"'Night, Buffy. Tell Dawn I said goodnight!"

"Willow says goodnight!" Buffy called through the door. Dawn hollered back a 'goodnight' for the witch before her lights went out. Chuckling to herself, she turned off the phone. After a short stop in her mother's room for a hug and kiss goodnight, Buffy retreated to her bedroom. Where she heard voices.

Well, not so much voices as one voice.

One specific voice.

"What the fuck did you do to me, you stupid bitch?" she heard him growl. Buffy winced. Shit; why was he in her room? Hadn't she told him to leave her alone? She peeked through the doorway and saw that he was pacing and tossing his hands in the air, dressed in his usual black 1980's tribute to Billy Idol. A pair of tight – really tight – (damn, he was lucky he had no circulation) black jeans; a black T-shirt that looked as if it had been spray-painted on; his usual black leather duster, swishing about and lapping at his legs with his every move; and a pair of thick, black, clunky army boots that looked right at home on the pale, goth–like vampire. He turned then, and she caught a glimpse of a heavy silver chain around his neck, and a big, silver-buckled belt around his waist.

"I mean, it was bad enough when that stupid piece of tin was in my head, shocking me every damn time I tried to do something, but this is just bloody ridiculous! You've made me bloody powerless! Again! I swear this is how you get your kicks, innit? As if you didn't do enough to destroy my life ever since I bloody met you, now this!"

Okay. It was a REAL good thing that Mom and Dawn – pardon the expression – slept like the dead. She pushed the door open fully, her eyes darting about, and stared incredulously at what she saw.

Spike was yelling at a picture.

Her picture, to be precise. He'd propped it up on her dresser, and now looked to have completely lost his mind. It took everything she had not to drop down on the floor and laugh – over and over and over – hysterically.

"What the hell are you doing? Have you finally cracked?"

Spike spun around, his blue eyes widening into a 'deer-caught-in-headlights' stare. The shock lasted barely one second before dissolving into rage.

"I may very WELL have, and it's your fuckin' fault! You ruined me, you stupid bint!" Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Spike, WHAT are you talking about? What the hell did I do?" Spike rushed her, pulling back an arm and hitting her.

"You made me fuckin' impotent! I tried to eat a kid the other night, but when I fuckin' looked at her, I saw your prancy, martyr-y, holier-than-all-thou-scum-of-the-earth face, and I couldn't kill her!" Buffy barely heard him. She was too busy returning his punch.

"Don't fucking hit me! You don't even have the right to be in my room, Spike, get out! I told you to leave me alone!" Spike smirked and backed up, tossing himself on her bed.

"Yeh, you did, luv. But you never told me to stop visitin'. So here I am. An', might I add, I'm damn ready to beat the tar outta you, you little twig." Buffy scowled and threw a stuffed animal at him. The miniature teddy flew through the air and bounced off his forehead, but all he did was laugh.

"Get off of my bed!" Spike raised his eyebrows and wriggled his long body against the mattress, making himself more comfortable.

"Nope. Don't think so, kitten. I rather like it where I am." He grinned dementedly. "It really is quite comfy, you know. Why don't you come and join me? I'm sure we could think of something... productive to do." He winked. Buffy marched over to him, lifted him up by the shirt (not that there was much shirt to grab on to) and threw him bodily across the room. Spike was still shooting her that insane grin.

"Oooh, getting the urge to man-handle me, are we, luv?" Well, damn. It figured – Spike liked that! Buffy shot a glimpse at him, sprawled on her floor, cocky, seductive grin in place, and a really big <get your eyes back up here right this instant, Buffy!> She turned away from him, blushing and flustered. William the Bloody absolutely, positively did NOT exist below the waist!

"Spike, you need to leave. NOW. Please, just get out. I'm sure you have other things to do, and really, you're just wasting your time here right now and – and – what the hell are you doing?!" she squeaked. Upon turning around, she saw that Spike had picked up Mr. Gordo. He was now sniffing at the stuffed pig as if it was some interesting sort of fungus, curiosity as well as mild amusement written on his face.

"How long have you had this thing, pet? Ever think to wash it up a bit once in a while?" Before she could stutter out an answer, his attention had drifted elsewhere, and he tossed Mr. Gordo over his shoulder. He turned and began rummaging through her dresser drawers.

Buffy, wide-eyed and horrified -- hello, perverted, and apparently depraved vampire going through her underwear drawer! – caught the airborne piggy and returned him to his rightful place on her bed before dashing to Spike's side and pulling at his jacket in an attempt to get him away from her things.

"Spike, stop it! Get away from my stuff!" A sharp kick to the shin made him yelp, but he still didn't budge, and just brushed her away, burrowing deeper.

"Leave it be, luv, what've you got to hide in here? Lemme – OW! – lemme look!... well, well, lookie here!" Buffy's eyes bugged out, and she swiped at Spike.

"Put that back!" she hissed. Spike grinned wickedly, dangling her dark blue teddy (a present from Riley – one that was probably gonna find a resting place on the scrap heap) above her head. She growled at his immaturity and jumped up to grab it, Spike laughing all the while.

"You want it back so badly, put a little effort in it! Hop to it, luv!" he teased.

He actually managed to keep her going for about a minute, yanking it out of her reach every time she neared it, until something clicked, and Buffy stopped.

"What am I doing?" she asked out loud, then aimed a punch at Spike's stomach. Spike yelped and head-butted her as he doubled over, sending her sprawling right on her ass. Snickering, he pounced on her, only to immediately find himself being flipped onto his back, Buffy straddling his waist with one leg on either side of him. She yanked her lingerie out of his grasp and shoved it quickly under the bed. When she looked down, Spike was watching her. The look on his face read more of curiosity and contemplation, rather than 24/7 lust-y thoughts. She frowned and thumped him hard on the chest.

"What is wrong with you? My mom and Dawn are asleep, and you have to come in here, crashing around like you're in a goddamn zoo? Do you think they're deaf? And what's with you digging around in my stuff? There's a reason they are called private, Spike!" She sat up, staring down at him. "Why are you here anyway? Why won't you leave me alone? It's not rocket-science to figure out that I don't –"

"Buffy." Spike was smiling. Not leering, not smirking, not sneering. Smiling. The sight of one very, very rare genuine Spike smile threw her off track. She replied with a very eloquent, "Wha?"

Spike shook his head, gazing at her almost fondly. "Shut up." That snapped her back to the real world, and she scowled.

"I most certainly will –"

Oooh. Spike lips.

Spike pulled Buffy close, letting out a soft purr. His lips softly danced over hers, his arms wrapping around her waist. He'd tried to be mad at her, he really had. But she looked too damn cute when she was embarrassed and blushing.

It was a decidedly couple-ish thing that he'd just pulled with her, yanking the negligee about, always out of her grasp, but he was really starting to not give a fuck.

She was an amazing fighter. The most powerful Slayer he had ever come across in all his 121 years. An absolutely glorious being. And as long as he didn't do anything to fuck up the mini sliver of a chance he was uncovering with her, he'd still have the feel of those soft, sweet, strawberry lips against his own.

Besides. Those growing warm and fuzzies were starting to make him feel pretty damn good.

Grunting softly, he rolled over, pulling her with him. He stumbled as he attempted to stand up and gently tugged her up with him, nearly tripping over their feet as he fumbled his way to the bed. His tongue slid out lightly and pressed against her lips, and she sighed softly as Spike playfully pushed her back on the bed, not straying too far as he fell right on top of her.

His kisses grew more firm and demanding, but were soothing and caressing at the same time, as if he knew she would freak out any other way. She gave in to the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and responding sweetly, tugging lightly on one of his flaxen curls. He replied with another low purr and nuzzled against her, moving his lips away from her and down to her neck. Lightly nipping at her skin, he brought his hand up to run over her stomach, making her shirt shimmy its way up. He felt her tense, then relax.

Slowly sliding his hand up her shirt, Spike trailed a thumb along the swell of her breast. Buffy whimpered and writhed under him, her hands moving of their own volition, reaching down and tugging at his shirt. He grunted softly and shrugged off his duster, tossing it to the floor, before complying to her wishes and tugging his shirt off. Buffy's fingers immediately darted to his chest, stroking, rubbing, pinching at his nipples, and making him want her beyond all reason. Spike pulled his lips away from hers and ducked down, his cool tongue making contact with the taut muscles of her stomach and moving upwards. Buffy arched upwards, revealing more skin, and a low rumble escaped from his throat.

"Lift up your arms," he mumbled hoarsely, and Buffy obeyed, raising them above her head. Spike slowly pushed her shirt up, over her stomach, over her breasts, her head, and finally tossed it to the floor. His gaze was a mix of heated passion and desire. His eyes showed something else... something she couldn't exactly decipher.

Since the shirt she'd been wearing had been nothing more than a little scrap of lace, she'd worn nothing under it, and Spike was treated to quite the view. Hunger welled up, and he dove down on her, latching his lips onto one of her soft little nipples, sucking roughly. His cool fingers found her other breast and cupped it lightly, massaging it as his thumb stroked the nipple. It became a rosy-brownish hue in his grasp and hardened considerably quickly. Buffy moaned and lifted a hand to his hair, stroking the altered blonde locks as she pressed his face down on her breast at the same time. Sparks began flying in front of her eyes, and she could feel herself becoming dizzy from Spike's ministrations.

Spike's lips parted and he pulled away from the raw, hard red nipple he'd been sucking on. Choosing not to torture her by attacking the other, he tilted his head down and licked her chest, creating a cool, wet path to her throat. The heat from her skin was absorbed into his, and Spike groaned loudly, his arousal becoming evident against Buffy's right leg. Buffy likewise let out a moan from the touch of his cold skin against her overheated body, and she tugged him closer. Her movements left absolutely no space free between them.

But it still wasn't close enough.

The tip of his tongue made a circle around his mark before brushing roughly over the twin punctures. Buffy cried out softly, a burst of several feelings colliding with each other inside of her, and if she hadn't been aroused before then, she most definitely was now, several times over. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she realized that this reaction was a little odd, since all he'd done was lick the scars he'd left on her.

But right now, it all felt too damn good. So she gave it the brush off.

Spike's hands moved down and he began fiddling with the buttons on her pants. His desire for her was getting the best of him, and it might've proved to be bad if a certain annoying pang didn't keep distracting him. He snarled softly and shoved it away, trying to concentrate fully on Buffy. His hands moved slowly and surely, gently, teasingly over her body, igniting those same little paths of icefire that she'd felt the first time that he'd put his hands on her body. Oh, god, he wanted to feel her, taste her, be inside of her, feel her sweet, rich blood running down his throat, and for the love of God he HAD to get her to reciprocate his claim!

Buffy heard his snarl and was jolted back. She pulled away from him and looked up at him in bafflement. She'd never seen Spike be so beast-like, yet so gentle at the same time. Well, not with anyone except Drusilla. It was unnerving, but it felt... good. Really... really... good.

<Nice, gentle Spike. No mean, hurtful Spike. I can live with that.>

This was Spike. Bad, mean, rude, annoying Spike. The one that had rampaged all over Sunnydale last year to get the Gem of Amarra. The one that had told her that Parker and Angel had thought her not worth a second go. And now, he made her feel things that were infinitely stellar compared to Riley.

How did that work?

"Spike," she whispered. He was so close. So, so close. One more kiss would do her in. She knew it would. She couldn't control herself. God, one more kiss, and she would give into him. She would let him take over, take control, and let him in. He was right there, and she was finally willing...

It couldn't hurt. Right?

Spike frowned down at her, feeling something twitch inside of him from the way she was staring. The human side of him that had been hidden when his demon had inhabited his body... William... was pushing his way through, making himself be known. His conscience was coming back, and Spike was especially aware.

++ This is wrong. You can't do this to her. You'll hurt her more than anyone could if you keep showing her your bestial hormones and allow this to continue, dragging her along. You've got to stop now, before you ruin it all.

-- Before I ruin what?

++ Everything. Whatever it is that's growing between you two. You've got to stop pushing and teasing her. If there's something there, and you keep on with your nit-like tendencies, you'll destroy it. Bugger off for a while. Leave her be.

He must've been slightly off his nut. The ponce was making sense.

Spike made a decision.

He slid off of the Slayer. Sliding on his duster, he grabbed his shirt and walked toward the window bare-chested. Buffy sat up in alarm.

"Spike? Where're you going?" Spike paused at the sill, his head down. Moonlight streamed in through the darkness, illuminating him, and Jesus Christ, if she didn't know any better, she would swear that he was an angel.

Pfft. That'd be the day.

He looked up, his head cocked at an angle, and gazed at her. Flushed cheeks, tousled honey colored curls, topless, small perfect breasts heaving, green eyes lit with desire, blood pumping with exhilaration, heart pounding with intense need. She was an Aphrodite.

Dammit all to hell.

"Home, luv." His tone of voice let her know that he wouldn't answer any questions. He would just go, then reemerge when needed, as usual.

But she couldn't just let him go. Not now. She stood up and grabbed a shirt, covering herself up with it. Walking over to him, she tilted her head, then reached up and tentatively touched his face. Then carefully, she leaned up and kissed his cheek.

"Will you be all right?" Spike tossed her his usual cocky, casual smile. Albeit only on the cheek, he was slightly stunned that she'd kissed him – of her own volition. Not to mention he was really, really pleased.

"Just fine, Slayer." He wiggled his eyebrows. "See you in a coupla nights." He started to leave, then, unable to resist, looked at her again, mischievousness glittering in his eyes. "Make sure I'm there when you finally grab the big nit by the short an' curlies an' toss him out, won't you, ducks?" Buffy put a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll have a front row seat," she promised, offering him a small, cheeky smile. Spike drew a sharp breath, trying not to let on to his astonishment. She'd freely offered him a smile.

Maybe that poofy git William was right. Maybe they were on their way to something. Something good. He grinned back at her.

"Right, then. Ta, Slayer. An' make sure you keep that little bit of yours away from me. She's gettin' too nosy," he replied, chuckling. Without waiting for a response, he climbed out of the window and slid into the tree, then jumped gracefully to the ground.

Buffy peered out of her window, watching him leave. A small frown touched her lips. Her good mood slowly drifted away, and now she was just confused and weary. She put her hand over her mouth when she realized what she had just done, and with whom she'd done it with. Turning away from the window, she sat on her bed, the waves of humiliation welling up inside of her. Tears formed in her eyes.

What was going on? Why was he doing this to her? Hadn't it been enough when he'd simply broken her with his words, but now he had to go and physically torture her, too? She leaned into her pillow.

"Oh, god," she whispered. Her willpower snapped, and she began to sob.

As soon as Spike was sure he was out of sight, he looked back toward the big house on Revello Drive and shut his eyes tightly, a huge frown drawing down his once smiling face. He leaned against a tree and slid down to the ground, covering his face with his hands. The moonlight glinted off of the bared expanse of the alabaster smooth skin that was visible beneath his duster.

Fuck. It was happening. It was really happening. He'd let himself do it. He couldn't believe he'd let himself sink so deeply. It was one thing to lust after the Slayer. It was an entirely different thing to fall in love with her.

His dream had told him the truth. He'd fallen in love with Buffy.

If the demon world found out about this, he'd be nothing but sod on the pavement.

He prepared to shove his shirt into his duster pocket, when the wind blew, and a heady scent set off the neon light in Spike's mind that was marked BUFFY. He looked down, scrutinizing the 'scrap of lace' he'd pulled off of her. A plain white halter-top. He'd been so distracted that he'd grabbed her shirt by mistake and left his own on the floor of her room. He nodded slowly, then sighed. Then let out a frustrated growl.

He got up and stormed down the road, both disgusted and confused by his strange reactions to a love that broke all the rules three times over. He growled in fury, perplexion covering his eyes.

"I need to kill something," he muttered, ducking into the nearest cemetery.

Stupid fucking entities. Why couldn't the miserable buggers just leave him be?

(AN: small note – keep in mind that time moves very fast in the fic world, especially in mine. I hope that would rather clearly explain this -->)

Eight days. Eight fucking days, and not one single glimpse of her. She hadn't let him come near her in eight fucking days.

He was dying.

Nobody was even helping him out! The girl had said it herself – "don't come near me again unless it's to apologize."

Well, he was more than damn ready to apologize. If she would just let him near her to do so!

"Fine," he muttered. When he hadn't been out trying to get close to her, he'd been holed up in his apartment. No one had been able to contact him – he refused to talk to even Graham. He pulled his boots one, grabbed his gun belt, slid it on and pulled his vest over it. "If she won't let me see her, I'll just have to –" he cocked his gun and set the safety, "—force my way in."

Sliding the gun into its holster, he grabbed his keys and walked out.

It didn't take long to get to her house – he could've taken his Jeep but, well, he hadn't. He'd been on foot, and most of the way to Buffy's, he'd been running.

He arrived just in time to see her taking off for the cemetery with a purpose. Thinking it better if he didn't call out a really temperamental Slayer's name, he followed quickly and quietly. Now was not the time to be knocked on his ass by a very pissed girlfriend.

Although by the end of this night, he most likely would be.
 

TBC....

Part 5
 

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