Chapter Seven

Buffy awoke to the sound of a commanding voice and another voice's uneasy questions coming from the living room. Sighing in frustration, -it was way too early to be up on a Sunday- she shuffled from her room to see what the hubbub was about.

"What is going on?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes to focus on the mess in front of her. Tons of cardboard boxes flooded the living room, set on every surface, all open and being filled by Willow and their neighbor down the hall, Percy.

"Well, hello, Sleeping Beauty. Sorry if we woke you. I'm just helping Willow here move out." Percy greeted her, lifting a stack of fuzzy blankets and a long stuffed snake and pushing them into a box.

"Willow moving out?" Buffy gasped in astonishment, her sleep-tinged eyes turning to Willow who was emerging from the kitchen with a box full of appliances, "I thought I was moving out?"

"Yeah, but then I thought about it some more, and I figured it was my problem so I should be the one to go. That way you can just find a roommate and I can stay with my brother at his hotel while I hunt for an apartment. Sounds good, right? Good." Willow explained shortly, taping up the cardboard flaps of the box and stacking it with other sealed ones.

"Oh." was all Buffy could reply. Percy gave her a sympathetic and apologetic smile before jumping back to attention when Willow pointed at the stack and then pointed to the hall, indicating that he was to put his muscles to use. Willow turned her gaze to Buffy, her face full of sadness, and her lips quirked in an "oh well" expression. It was a brief moment; the two best friends shared the same hurt but also the knowledge that this was the right thing to do. Willow turned back to her packing, and Buffy, shivering, retreated to the bathroom to take a scalding shower to wash away the grief on her heart.

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

"I need a roommate." Buffy announced as she pushed open the intricately designed French doors to the studio of Revamp Designs, Inc.

"Well you can't move in with us." Anya replied bluntly, not even looking up from the sketches she was poring over. Xander poked his head out from the back room.

"Why do you need a roommate? What happened to Will?" he asked with concern. Buffy's face lit up,

"Xander! You're back!" she shouted, rushing at him and jumping into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. "I missed you."

"I got back last night, and was going to bring my lovely wife to the senior's charity banquet since I helped sponsor it and all, but said wife decided she wanted to stay home and engage in...Other…activities," he grinned, setting Buffy back down on her feet. She smiled knowingly at the other activities, the two of them glancing at Anya, who remained oblivious. "So what's this about a roommate?"

"Willow and I had a fight. I said I was going to move out, but when I woke up this morning, she and Percy were already shoulder-deep in packing Will's stuff." Buffy recalled as she plopped down on a plush leather chair. Xander sat on the ottoman in front of her, looking at her seriously.

"What was the fight about?"

"Faith. You know how she digs Angel, right? Well, Angel's in town, and Faith has been hanging out at our place more than usual. Willow hates Faith on a normal level most of the time, but when Angel's around, her hate is stronger, like, ten-fold. But it's my apartment, too, you know? Faith is my cousin, for goodness sake; she's allowed to be there. But noooo, Willow can't stand her and demands that she no longer be allowed at OUR apartment. So we argued, deciding that someone should move out, and now she is going to stay with Angel at his hotel until she finds a new place."

Buffy slouched back into the cushions with exhaustion after her explanation, looking up at Xander with a pout, "So what do you think?"

"I think," Xander began taking a big breath, "that both of you have legitimate reasons for arguing. I think the whole moving out thing is a bit extreme, but absence does make the heart grow fonder, and with distance you two are most likely to forgive and forget."

"When did you get so smart?" Buffy said suspiciously, one eyebrow rising as a grin blossomed on her pink lips.

"I was quoting like every Hallmark saying about forgiveness and long-distance friendships, duh!" he laughed, patting her knee in a friendly gesture as he stood up.

"Hey, where are you going?" Buffy whined, "We weren't finished with girl-talk yet!"

"Sorry, Buff, but I've got a business to run. Revamp is the most popular interior designing company on this side of LA. Plus my wife looks completely delicious over here and I just have to kiss her before I explode."

"And boy does he explode!" Anya said in her usual sexual innuendo as she tilted head back to except the sweet, but passionate, kiss from her handsome husband. Buffy stuck her tongue out and squinted her eyes in a 'blech!' expression, even as her heart rejoiced that the two of them were so happy together.

"Well fine then, I'll just go. I gotta be at work in an hour anyway. Don't forget that roommate thing, okay, guys? Keep your eyes and ears out for someone who can afford the rent and stuff..." she said, grabbing her jacket and purse from the chair as she stood up. She glanced up at the couple making out, "Helloooo Harris's, are you listening to me?" No answer. "Okay, have fun WORKING, Xander."

She gave them a last happy look and smile, and then slipped out of the office quietly. They didn't miss her.

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

Buffy sat in the back break room at the Bronze, hastily scribbling out an advertisement for a roommate. It contained only the basics- her name, the cost of living, and her phone number, plus a little asterisk asking for a female, non-smoker, around 21, who was responsible and clean. Okay, so it wasn't basic, it was nitpicky, but she didn't want just some random drug-dealing whore or anything. It was going to be hard replacing someone like Willow she thought with a sigh, tossing the ad to the trashcan and trying again.

"Whatcha doin' pet?" Spike's voice interrupted her frustration. She turned in the rickety old chair to look at him come in. Something about him was different today. His eyes weren't as bright, his posture wasn't as proud, and his voice was still silky and low, but it was somehow a little duller than usual.

"What's the matter?" she asked, watching him shed his duster and stuff his messenger bag into his cubby.

"I should be askin' you the same thing." he said, glancing at her, "You seem diff'rent. You're eyes are all sad, you're sittin' all pouty, an' your voice is tired."

"I asked you first." she said, covering up her surprise that his words mirrored her thoughts of him.

"Cordelia an' I broke up." he said quietly, his head low.

"Oh, god, Spike, I'm so sorry. When?" she said sympathetically, patting the chair next to her invitingly. He trudged over and collapsed onto it.

"Las' night. S'alright, it was a long time coming, we both knew it would end soon. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt though." he sighed, burying his head in his hands. She put her hand on his back and stroked up and down his ridged spine, trying hard not to enjoy his hard curves of muscle that rippled whenever he moved in the slightest. He took a deep breath and sat up again, suddenly back to normal.

"So what's this?" he asked curiously, grabbing the paper from the table and scanning the ad.

"Willow moved out. We had a fight, and decided that moving out was the best. Don't ask," she said, when she saw him open his mouth, "It's a long story that I don't feel like getting into right now. Anyway, bottom line is: I can't afford that apartment by myself, so I'm looking for a roommate."

Spike stared at her for a long moment before looking back down at the ad, and then crumpling into a ball in his fist.

"Hey!" she shouted at him, pulling it from his hand and straightening it out, "What the hell did you do that?"

"You are not going to put up a ruddy ad to find a roommate, Love. Weirdoes will apply." he said sternly, grabbing it back from her smoothing fingers and crumpling it up again. If looks could kill, he'd be brutally murdered.

"You're not my father, Spike. I need a roommate. I think what I'm doing is very responsible, so give it back." she demanded, jumping over onto his lap to grab it from his hand that had wound behind his back.

"You are NOT putting out a public statement, Buffy, that's final. My authority as your friend- An' as being older than you!" he shot back. She straddled his legs, glaring at him with an indignant expression as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Ask someone you know." he urged, still clutching the paper behind him.

"How about Riley?" she mused aloud, knowing that would make him upset.

"No lovers moving in together until engagement point. It's a common courtesy thing, or social rule, or whatnot." he countered, enjoying the pout she displayed.

"Tara?" she asked thoughtfully. Spike shook his head.

"She has a good job, and can afford the beautiful flat she has. She wouldn't want ta move."

"I have a "beautiful flat" too, ya know. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Buffy argued from her perch on his thighs.

"Its an al'right place. Not the best. Still, I don' think Tara will move. Wha' about..." he began, looking up at her cautiously. She turned her gaze from its thoughtful searching of the ceiling to his face.

"What about who?" she prodded, her arms dropping to the arms of the chair, where his arms lay. She rested her hands quietly on his forearms.

"Wha' about me?" he asked seriously. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"You?" she nearly squeaked.

Living with Spike…She had already admitted to herself she had feelings for him, but she could handle the platonic friendship they had. It was a perfect friendship. But living with him was a whole other story. Waking up to him there, cooking dinner for each other, helping each other with living expenses, him taking showers there. And she KNEW he slept naked. But it wasn't just about his exquisite body, and sky-blue eyes, and dangerously sharp cheekbones. It was about the warm comfortable, but always passionate, meant-to-be feeling she got when he was near. And that was more tempting then his muscles or perfectly suckable bottom lip.

"Should I give you time to think about it?" he asked carefully, looking up into her thoughtful face and wide expressive eyes. She gazed back down at him, feeling him between her thighs, and his bare arms under her tiny hands, and his gentle eyes, and that open expression of gentility and caring...

"No...I don't need time. I would love for you to be my roommate, Spike."

Chapter Eight

Two weeks later was Spike's moving day. He had all of his stuff waiting patiently at the door of his old apartment for Riley and Adam to come give him a hand. Buffy insisted on getting free help, telling him that it was complete nonsense for him to call a moving company when he only lived a few blocks away. Spike didn't know if he should trust the Finn's with his precious boxes of stuff though. Everyone knew that Spike was an avid art collector. He had some of the most beautiful paintings and sculptures that existed in Sunnydale, and the best part? They were all by him. It was a hidden talent. But only people who came to his place ever saw his work. The artistic pieces were the only things he was shy about. Insult his work, crush his heart.

"Riley, PLEASE be careful with that crate!" Spike shouted as Riley heaved a long slender wooden crate to his shoulder and carried it out the door, "An' watch the top on the spiral staircase! You know how narrow those bloody steps are, especially when blokes are as big as you! Riley! Did you hear me?"

Adam chuckled and patted Spike on the back in mock comfort, "Spike, man, relax. We're not gonna hurt your precious finger paintings and clay figurines."

"I'm not going to even dignify your stupidity with a response." he growled, watching Adam lift a long, flat box which held a framed painting, "Please. Be. Careful!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Adam groaned quickly, balancing the weight on his shoulder, "I think this will about do it for this load. I'll go ahead and take these to Buffy's and you and Rye can carry the rest down to the curb. I'll unload the truck there, and then be back in a jiffy."

Perhaps it was the way that Adam said that statement, how he excited he seemed about going to Buffy's that caused something cold to spread through Spike's chest as he remembered Riley talking about Buffy's discomfort around Adam. Buffy wouldn't want to be alone with him. Spike dashed after the broad man.

"Know what Finn; I think I'll go with you. Don' want anything happening to my art. Riley can handle the rest 'ere." He grabbed his jacket on the way out.

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

"Spike! None of these boxes have any of the bare necessities in them. Where the hell are your clothes, appliances, personal items?!" Buffy asked as she poked through the boxes the two men were carrying in and setting down around the tiny living room. Spike smirked at her and batted her inquisitive hands away.

"I brought the most important things first, love. We're gonna pick up the rest after we unload here." Spike explained, glancing around the room to make sure there was more space for the other boxes. Adam came grunting through the door, carrying one of his heaviest boxed canvases.

"You know...that one...you couldn't...carry?" he panted as he struggled to put it down gently, "You...are such...a weakling..." he finally got it down and then rocked back on his heels as he wiped his hands on his jeans with satisfaction. "Good thing you called me. I'm stronger than you and Riley put together!"

Buffy glanced up from the crate she was staring into only to find Adam's dull blue, but intent eyes gazing right at her. It made her skin crawl. Spike noticed and started the conversation in another direction.

"Buffy, weren't you just telling me the other day that you didn't love Riley for his strength, you loved him because he got stuff done quickly and efficiently?" Spike spoke loudly, turning his eyes to Buffy. She cocked her head to the side.

"Spike, I never said I lov-" Spike raised his eyebrow, and then glanced quickly at Adam and then back to her again. Buffy caught on, "Ooooh, yes. I adore a man who gets a job done with speed!"

Adam practically flew down the stairs to finish unloading the pick-up truck.

"Oh my god, that was so *mean*!" she laughed, shaking her head at Adam's behavior.

"So…how come you didn't tell me before 'bout Adam and his crush on you, pet?" Spike asked curiously, watching Buffy as she wandered aimlessly among the crates and cardboard-covered canvases.

"I dunno. Maybe because that's exactly what it is- a crush." she shrugged her shoulders, and then looked at him seriously, "People our age don't exactly talk about things as trivial as crushes."

"No," Spike replied softly, "I guess they don't."

There was barely enough time for conscious emotion to qualify as a 'Moment' before Adam came through the open doorway with the last box.

"Ready to go pick up the next load, Spike?" he asked brightly, eyes darting back and forth between Spike and Buffy. Buffy blushed slightly and moved away quickly, picking at the edge of a box. Spike took a deep breath and smirked at Adam.

"Yup, mate, let's go get the rest."

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

Two hours later, all of Spike's stuff was cluttering the living room. Riley went through each box and carefully cut the tape sealing them, while Spike followed behind him and directed him where to carry each. Buffy began storing all of his other stuff in the closets where the empty space from Willow's belongings had been.

"Spike, there isn't enough room in the hall closet, so I'm gonna put this box with all your old journals and class notes in my other closet." Buffy's muffled voice came from her room.

Spike raised an eyebrow and called back, "You 'ave two closets in that little bedroom?"

"Yup!" she shouted from deep in the depths of the bonus walk-in. She shoved a large bag of clothes out of the way, and then pushed one of Spike's crates into the corner. A sudden shadow fell over the doorway, "Hey, excuse me! You're in my light! Notice there's no light bulb in here!" she turned to face the shadow.

"Hey! Just thought you could use a hand lifting that stuff to the shelves!" Adam's cheerful voice came from the silhouette. He entered hastily, crowding her into the blackness of the closet.

"Um, I'm not lifting anything; I'm just dumping all of his shit on top of mine." Buffy said in a guarded tone. Adam got closer.

"Naw, don't be silly- let me stick it up there." He said, putting one arm around her waist to steady her as he thrust the other arm behind her to grab the box she was struggling with. His fingers closed around her shirt, the tips intruding under its cover and touching the skin of her back.

"Adam, I *really* don't need your help." she said angrily, but for some reason her discomfort made her voice sound breathy and hesitant. He stopped tugging at the box and straightened, wrapping his other arm around her waist.

"You...you feel it too, right?" he whispered heatedly, looking down at her in the darkness.

"Wha'? Feel what? Adam, please..." she gulped, putting her hands against his soft chest and pushing him away. He responded by tightening his grip on her waist.

"This…desire between us. I mean, I love my brother and all, but you and me....we are the ones that are meant to be together." He gasped, his breathing picking up as he became aroused at her touch and their closeness in the dim light.

"Stop, please, Adam. Let me g-" she was cut off by his lips on her own. It was the incentive she needed to break her out of her helpless confusion. She cocked her fist back and swung it into his cheekbone, effectively breaking his chapped lips from her mouth and causing him to stumble back into the boxes and bags. She leapt out into the light of her bedroom where she ran smack into Spike.

"Whoa, pet, you a'right? I came back 'ere to check on you when I didn't hear your whining voice for a while. Figured the closet swallowed you like the big nasty that bonus closets can be and- Love, wha's wrong?" he asked finally when he saw her try to act nonchalant as she fixed her hair and adjusted her clothes. Just then an ashamed Adam with a large purple bruise on his cheek emerged from the closet. Spike knew instantly what had happened.

"I guess the party's back here. Are you all taking a break from unpacking and you didn't let me know?" Riley's happy and teasing voice intruded on the angry response Spike had planned. Riley walked in, clueless of what was going on, and wrapped his arms around his tiny girlfriend. "Adam, what the hell happened to you?" he asked when he noticed the bruise.

"I, I...um..." he began nervously.

"Oh, he was just helping me lift some boxes and one got away from him. He acted like a man though and ignored it." Buffy lied in bright tones, as she turned in her arms to gaze up at her boyfriend. She glanced over her shoulder at Spike, who was fuming inwardly, and then looked at Adam with fake concern, "We're all done in there though now, so you had better go put some ice on that, Adam!"

"Actually, what I think I need is a beer. I'm out. Riley, if you want a ride home come with me now." Adam mumbled, and left the apartment without a backward glance.

Riley looked down at Buffy with a pitifully, sorry expression, "Damn, I'm gonna have to go now, Sweetie-pie. You guys alright with everything else?"

Spike nodded, and Buffy grinned and said yes. Riley reluctantly let her go, and grabbed his jacket in the living room. She walked him to the door.

"You know, it's weird that I'm leaving you in an apartment with your new roommate who happens to be a guy. I deserve high marks for being a 'Very Understanding and Trusting Boyfriend' here." he said jokingly, even though there was a hint of concern in his voice. Buffy smiled with understanding as she toyed with the collar of his coat.

"Yeah, but its Spike, so you know you don't have to worry. Now give me some kissage." she muttered in her girlish cute tone as she tugged him down to her lips.

Two minutes of passionate making-out later, Riley left to find his brother, closing the door behind him with a final click. Buffy turned to face an angry Spike.

"Adam made a move on you." he stated coldly. She sighed.

"Yeah, he did."

"And you didn't tell your boyfriend, who happens to be his brother." Spike continued, eyeing her carefully.

"No, I didn't. I can take care of myself. I don't think Adam will try to mess with me again." she said, recalling his shamed face and deep purple bruise. A tiny smile tugged the corners of her mouth.

"I'm sure your right. You punched him. I'd say his ego is pretty...non existent right now." Spike replied, before smirking himself. Pretty soon it was an all out laugh coming from both of them. Buffy collapsed onto the couch. He soon fell down next to her.

"Jus' promise me something, Buffyluv." he said, blinking away the laugh-tears, and grabbing her hand seriously.

"Anything." she responded with loyal friendship as she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"If he makes a move again, you will tell both me and Riley."

"I promise." she swore, looking into his blue eyes, "Now lets do some more unpacking." she jumped up off the couch, heading for the boxes that contained his clothes and bedding. He snagged the back of her shirt and pulled her back towards him.

"Nu-uh, pet, first things first. My art. We get it out and get it on display. A house isn't a home until 's got some of my creative culture." he said, and then pushed her towards another set of boxes. She looked at him over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him. He growled playfully and then pulled a pillow off the sofa and tossed it at her head as she leaned over to open the box. It hit her head softly, just hard enough to mess up her shimmering wave of hair. She turned and looked at him with astonished outrage.

"Why you little!" she cried, grabbing the pillow and hurtling it back at his head. He laughed when he caught it and then lunged forward and brought it down on her backside. She shrieked and giggled as he howled triumphantly.

And soon they were on the couch having the craziest pillow fight they had had since they were teenagers.

Oh yeah, living with Spike was gonna be great.


Chapter Nine

A/N- A few major thank-you's before I continue.

1- Soulvamp--who helped me turn my idea and first chapter blurb into a story. She sparked my imagination and gave wonderful advice.

2- Flames-- the SA.com Beta Goddess...there is a reason she beta's for everyone: she is AWESOME!

3- Eve and Lady Anne-- who read my stuff and give me early feedback and reviews. Without them, this story would be a burden to me, but I look forward to their words every chapter- thus making this story ten times more fun. You ladies are wonderful.

4- Silver and her Elves-- Words cannot express.

A week later found Spike out on the front steps of the apartment building, smoking his normal evening's allotment of cigarettes. Buffy refused to let him smoke in the apartment, and he was just enough of a gentleman to understand and take his "lung-cancer addiction" outside to the street. He leaned against the stucco wall and took a large drag, and then blew the silky smoke into the night air. Living with Buffy was a lot easier than he'd thought it would be. Aside from the smoking disagreement, their lives had blended together so seamlessly that Spike was astonished with how perfect it seemed. They fixed their work schedules to be the same, ran errands for each other, and Spike was treating Buffy to the finest bachelor cuisine that existed. The way their lives meshed together in every way -save romantic- was natural. Who would have thought...

"Hey stranger, Buffy won't let you smoke inside, huh?" the quirky voice of Willow broke through his reverie. Spike watched her approach from across the street, her giant book sack hanging from her tiny body.

"Hullo, Red. How was class today?" he asked, tossing his cigarette to a nearby puddle before pulling out another.

"Peachy." she replied sweetly, and then shook her head when Spike politely offered her a cigarette. "I saw Buffy in the library, so I decided to come over to tell you something." She whispered conspiringly as she leaned in towards him.

He cocked his head and looked at her pixie face in curiosity, "Yeah, wha's tha' about?"

"Someone cute gal got your apartment, and has begun to hang with the other cute gal in the floor below. This cute gal has the most beautiful voice and is in this abstract rock band, and introduced the First Cute Gal to the guitarist, and now the First Cute Gal is in love." she said, giggling. Spike took a drag off his smoke and then blew it out as he thought aloud.

"Okay. YOU are the cute gal who got my apartment- you and Tara hit it off. She showed you her band, called something weird and "abstract" like-"

"BlackCharis. It's not weird! I think it's beautiful! Anyway, that's not the moral of the story. You're a big boy, what IS the moral?" Willow urged excitedly.

"Don't buy store-brands?" Spike guessed pathetically, shrugging his shoulders. It earned him a slap on the arm.

"No!! She introduced me to Daniel Osbourne!" she squealed, her lips breaking into a gigantic beaming smile.

"Oz, eh? He's a good guy. You should be happy with him." Spike smiled at her.

"Well, not so much yet. He just broke up with some girl named Amy, so he's waiting a while before he jumps back into anything, but there is DEFINITE chemistry between us." she described, the smile still firmly fixed to her face, even as footsteps approached.

"Hey...Willow..." Buffy said shyly as she walked up the sidewalk. She had seen Spike and Willow from down the street and her mind was in a whirlwind of what she should do. Ignore Willow? Act angry? Or just simply say hello? She had decided to be mature and just say hello. But now that beautiful grin that was blossomed on Willow's face as she described something to Spike disappeared. Buffy felt a pierce in her heart. Damn her, she should have just walked passed so Willow would still be happy.

"Um...hey Buffy…I just came over to tell Spike about how I'm the new inhabitant of his old apartment." Willow explained, standing up and pulling her bag over her shoulder again.

"Actually," Buffy began, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears, "it's good that you're here. There are a few small shoe boxes of stuff I found in the bonus closet that belong to you. Wanna come up and get them?"

"Sure." Willow responded quietly and then followed Buffy up the steps, "You coming Spike?"

"I'll be up in a bit. Jus' one more." Spike called to them as they disappeared up the stairwell.

--

"Sooo…living with Spike, huh?" Willow said as nonchalantly as she could, leaning against the wall outside the apartment while Buffy unlocked the door. The blonde nodded, but said nothing else as she pushed the door open.

"That's gotta be inter-" Willow cut off as she entered the room, "Oh. My. God!"

Buffy watched amused as Willow stepped into the center of the living area and spun around, staring at the paintings that now adorned the wall, towering one on top of the other until the ceiling. The delicate curves of clay, glass, and metal sculptures in each corner and around the old fashioned fireplace, mingled with the plants that Buffy loved so much.

"This looks incredible! These paintings make the room look huge, how they are so close to the ceiling! I never thought this place could look this great!" Willow exclaimed, gazing at the colorful canvases and abstract frames.

"It definitely looks posh, that's for sure. I love it. It gives everything a whole new flavor." Buffy smiled as she flung her school stuff down on the couch. Then she grabbed the shoe boxes and set them on the table next to where Willow stood in disbelief. "Um, there's your stuff."

Willow looked down at the boxes and then her eyes bugged out again, "What did you do to them!?" she cried.

The shiny finish of the shoeboxes was covered with scribbles and swirls of paint, some in the shapes of little animals and flowers, and others just blobs of color, and whirlwinds of black and blue pen.

"Oh, that…um...sorry..." Buffy blushed, waving her hand around like it was no big deal, "they were sitting above the pencil drawer. You know the drawer in the kitchen under the phone where we kept all of the crayons, and pens, and paint, and scissors and stuff? Well, I was talking to my dad last night on the phone and I got a little bored so I kinda took it out on your boxes. Oops!"

Willow just gaped at the doodles and then looked up at Buffy, "No, its fine it just....I think Spike's rubbing off on you!" She erupted in laughter. Buffy soon joined in. They were clutching their sides with cramps as they fell down on the couch.

"Oh gosh, it feels good to laugh with you again!" Buffy said between gasps. Willow looked at her with dancing eyes.

"Yeah...about that...." she began.

"I'm sorry." they said in unison. Then they looked at each other with surprise before laughing again. Buffy jumped over to Willow's side of the couch and enfolded her in a hug.

"We'll never, ever fight again!!" Willow said as she giggled and hugged Buffy back. They finally caught their breath and extracted themselves from the other and sat Indian style.

"But I'm still kinda glad that we separated. I mean, not to be rude, but I love my new independence, and my new apartment." Willow said, holding her cool hands over her cheeks hot from laughing.

"And I love my new interior designing of my apartment." Buffy said as she glanced around the room appreciatively.

"And your new roommate." Willow quipped knowingly.

"And my new roommate..." Buffy repeated automatically. Then her eyes widened with what she said. "No! I mean, I like Spike! He's a good roommate. But I'd rather have you....I would. I would rather have you. Yes." Buffy covered weakly.

"Buffy..." Willow cocked her head and gave Buffy 'the look'. Buffy deflated against the cushions.

"Okay, so I love living with Spike- but shhhh about that!" Buffy commanded sternly, putting her finger against her lips. Willow grinned gently.

"Of course I'll be shhhh. That's what best friends are for- keeping the deepest darkest secrets."

"You're not wrong. Now what secret did she tell, 'cause I can guarantee I know 'em all." Spike announced as he pushed the door closed behind him. Willow looked at Spike and arched an eyebrow at him.

"You don't know this one." she challenged, standing up and gathering her boxes.

"Don' I?" Spike mused, as he sauntered dangerously to the couch and took the pre-warmed spot next to Buffy where Willow had been sitting.

"Nope!" Willow exclaimed, popping the 'p' as she winked at the blushing Buffy, "Well, kids, I must go home and study. Finals. Bleh! Bye guys!"

"Oh, Red, tell your brother that a bunch of the guys are goin' out for beers tomorrow night. I know he leaves soon, but we'd like to see 'im before he returns to his stuffy San Fran job." Spike shouted behind his shoulder.

"I'll tell him! See ya tomorrow, Buffy!" Willow called back, and pulled shut the door.

"So you two made up, I see." Spike said to Buffy after the door closed.

"Yeah, I'm happy." Buffy said warmly, pulling the afghan from the back of the sofa and wrapping it around herself as she clicked on the TV with the remote.

"Tha's good. I hate seeing you and Red fighting. S' not natural- messes me all up." Spike said with a pout, and then snagged the corner of Buffy's blanket and pulled it over himself.

"Hey, loser, go get your own blanket!" she snapped teasingly.

"No. This is the microfleece one, therefore the warmest. And you're all nice and warm too, so I'd much rather curl up with you." he explained, scooting closer to her body. She took a deep breath and held it until he stopped scooting.

And now she couldn't breathe at all. He was all wound up behind her, his legs intertwined with hers, and his one arm lying comfortably around her waist. He propped a pillow under her head and his.

"This a'right, pet?" he asked softly from behind/beside her. She nodded, and finally took a breath as her body relaxed into his.

And soon they were both asleep.

tbc...

Chapter 10:

The following night was the official Guys Night Out. Spike rounded up all the menfolk and herded them to a dingy downtown bar -he tried to avoid the Bronze when he wasn't working- where they played pool and drank beer and made crude, immature jokes about sex, body functions, and sports. It made for Times-chock-full-of-the-Good.

Riley, Spike, Xander, Angel, and Forrest entered Willy's Place like they owned the joint. And Willy didn't bother to tell them otherwise- this was Sunnydale, not somewhere important like New York City after all.

"Willy! Get me and my mates a bunch o' bottles of Heineken! An' some buffalo wings! You know how I like 'em!" Spike shouted as they pushed through the gaudy beads that hung over the entrance.

"Spicy!" Came Willy's nasally reply. Spike laughed and nodded, grabbing a couple of large glass mugs from the bar and passed them out.

"Grab your pool sticks, you gits, and prepare to be crushed. 'M in a good mood, and only beating you pathetic wankers in pool will prolong my 'appiness."

"I hate to disappoint you Spike, but I am wicked good at pool nowadays." Angel sighed in mock sympathy as he clapped his friend on the back. Spike brushed his hand off good-naturedly.

"Yeah, yeah, wha'ever. Whelps on my team." Spike pointed at Xander, who scowled.

"How come I can't have a cool nickname like you, Spike? Why can't I be 'Mad Dog' or 'Shark' or-"

"You like animals, eh, mate?" Spike smirked at him.

"Xand, be thankful- At least your not 'Whitebread' or 'Captain Cardboard'." Riley said before gulping down huge swallows of the golden beer. Forrest snorted in agreement at that, and began rubbing chalk on the tip of his cue.

"But see, those are both derived from positive things! 'Whitebread' refers to your down-to-earth wholesome goodness, and 'Captain Cardboard' refers to your football position in our high school team and your attractive muscular appearance! I'm just 'Whelp'." Xander whined as he pulled the balls together into the triangle on the green felt.

"Well, then, let's make it positive." Angel proposed, sauntering around the side of the table and eyeing the balls carefully before leaning down to break them with the white ball, "Um......"

"See, you can't think of anything!" Xander exclaimed, taking aim at the cue ball, knocking a solid into a pocket.

"Well, you do Interior Design, which is an artistic sort of job, so let’s say you’re a Whelp because do your job ‘whel’. And all artists are whelps." Forrest muttered, and knocked a stripe into the far corner pocket.

"Hey!" "'Ey!" Came Xander and Spike's twin cries of offense.

"Think about it- girls aren't really attracted to artists. They kinda get bored with all their mumbo-jumbo, "I'm different than everybody else" shit." Forrest argued. Riley and Angel both leaned back against the bar, amused at Forrest's thoughts.

"I'll have you know that Anya finds me damn sexy!" Xander said, violently hitting a ball and sending it careening around the dimly lit table.

"Well she's weird." Forrest replied shortly. Xander just shot him a look.

"An' Buffy is the happiest 've ever seen her with her apartment’s new look. She likes my art." Spike said, cocking his head as if daring Forrest to argue with him. Forrest wasn't the one who rose to the new challenge though.

"Buffy thinks that, does she?" Riley said, all joking no longer in his voice.

"Buffy is also weird...among other things." Forrest said dryly, lining up a shot.

"Wha's that supposed t' mean, mate?" Spike asked, looking back and forth between the black man and the angry Captain Cardboard.

"She's a blonde bimbo with the intelligence the size of a rat. She does nothing but giggle, seduce and try to succeed in school, but fails miserably. Buffy is good for nothing but sex." Forrest flatly announced.

"Shut up, Forrest." Riley muttered, playing with the tip of his cue on the dirty floor. Spike's eyes lit up in outrage.

"That's all you're gonna say, Finn?? ‘Shut UP’?? My god man, he is talking about your childhood playmate an' current *girlfriend* you soddin' ponce!" Spike shouted; his face full of astonished anger. Riley bent his head, trying to reign in his urge to punch Spike.

"Look, he's entitled to his opinion. He's not the one dating her. I am. Because I love her. Forrest can think and say what he wants, but that doesn't change the way I feel about Buffy..." he said in a low voice. Spike's eyebrows shot up.

"No. It may not change the way you feel about Buffy...but it certainly affects her. She *knows* wha' Forrest thinks of her. An' it hurts her more than she'll let on. If you'd reign in your friends rude opinions 'ere, she might not ever have been the wiser." Spike ground out in a dangerous tone.

"Forrest is his own man, William. And I find it a bit annoying that you know Buffy so well. She should talk to me about this stuff." Riley shouted, tossing his cue to the cue basket along the wall, where it landed with a crash.

"She tries, mate. She told you about Adam, didn't she? But you didn't do a thing about it. Remember that nasty bruise he got on his pretty baby face?" Spike asked, walking up to Riley's face and challenging him. "Buffy did tha' to 'im when he tried to kiss her."

Riley shoved Spike away violently, causing him to hit the pool table. Xander reached out to steady Spike as he stumbled back, while Angel grabbed the ball he was currently lining up and moved it slightly so he had a better shot.

"You're lying." Riley spat.

"'Fraid not, nancy boy." Spike said, a threatening smirk flitting across his lips. Riley leapt forward to take a swing at his cocky face. Forrest grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him away before his knuckles could make contact.

"It's not worth it, Riley. Let's go." he said between clenched teeth, and tugged Riley towards the door. Riley allowed himself to be pulled away, his hazel eyes fixed coldly on his British friend. They disappeared through the plastic clashing of the beads.

"Whoa…that was a bit intense." Xander breathed.

"Just goes to show that Riley never grew up. He's still the arrogant and stupid asshole he was in high school." Angel said in a chuckle as he grabbed a beer. He pushed it down the bar towards Spike, "Gotta love him though. Here, Spike, drink up."

"I'm gonna need a lot more than this." Spike said as he twisted off the cap and downed it in only five long swallows.

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

Buffy hummed to herself as she poked through cabinets and the refrigerator looking for a snack, her tiny body encased in a fluffy white towel. There was nothing better than a hot bath and then some yummy food after a long evening of studying for finals. She felt the towel begin to slide from her silky skin and giggled as she tugged it back into place, wrapping it more securely around her breasts.

"Macho, macho ma-aaan. I want to be a macho....WO-man!" She sang, and then let out another giggle at her new words. The phone's shrill ring broke through her silliness.

"Spike and Buffy's flat, what can I do ya for?" she spoke into the receiver cheerfully. Then she let out a shriek.

"Mark! Oh my god, how are you?? Uh-huh and how is the rest of the Lynch family?...Well, tell Johnny that if he was only a couple of years younger, and his hair wasn't so purple that I'd happily marry him." she laughed, and hopped up onto the stool, tucking the towel carefully around her thighs. She balanced the phone on her shoulder as she peeled an orange, "So are you calling to talk to Spike? He's out with some of the guys right now, but he should be back any minute...yeah, it was just the guys. I had to study for finals...Don't make fun of me! Not all of us can be super talented musicians like you, ya know. Some of us have to work hard in college so we can get good jobs and succeed in the REAL world...Of course I'm not saying that you don't live in the real world- what with all the women who adore you and the money and the beautiful home in Arizona, and the cars, and the...Ha. Ha. Not funny."

The door opened and a very sour Spike came in, slamming the door behind him and ripping off his coat.

"I'm HOME." he shouted angrily, tossing his coat onto the couch. Buffy let out an ‘Eep’ and jumped off the stool.

"Yeah, Mark, Spike just got home and he seems really pissed about something." Buffy explained to the inquisitive Mark who overheard the angry entrance.

"An' I'm drunk too, pet, so you might want to go put on some clothes, because Drunk Spike with a barely clothed female is a bad combination." he growled, leering at her tiny body. Buffy's face turned bright red and she slunk behind the counter to shield her lower half from his eyes.

"Um, Mark? That's my cue. It was great talking to you. Here's Spike." she spoke warmly into the receiver before pressing 'hold' and pulling it away from her ear, holding it out to Spike. He merely looked at it from across the room. "Are you going to come over here and take it? It has a cord, you know, so I can't exactly toss it to you."

Her voice sounded stronger than she was. He walked over dangerously, his gait screaming seduction. When he reached her, he got as close as possible, invading her space as he looked down on her small body still hot from the bath water. Slowly he took the phone from her hand, pressed hold and brought it up to his ear.

"Hullo, Mark. I'm currently intoxicated and angry, so now's not a good time. I'll call ya back tomorrow when my 'angover goes away." he spoke in smooth tones, still staring down into Buffy’s flushed, upturned face. Their faces so close, she could feel his warm, alcohol-laden breath on her skin. "Ta-ta, then."

Buffy wasn't aware of the click of the phone being set in its cradle. Spike hadn't moved his body, just his arm. Now there were no distractions. Just a warm, soft and nervous Buffy, with fluttering hormones and emotions...and a drunk, horny and very outraged Spike who just KNEW in his rational mind that this was a bad idea.

"You didn't get dressed yet." he said softly, eyes red from the alcohol. She gasped when she felt his hand slide up her exposed thigh, "Must've wanted me to take advantage of you."

She jumped back suddenly when his words managed to sink into her brain.

"No, no, no...I'm going to get dressed now." she babbled, backing up towards her room. He followed her.

"Good idea. Need 'elp?" he said, the heat of lust flaring in his eyes. Buffy gulped.

"No. Spike, please. I don't want you and me to do this. Not like this. You mean too much to me." she pleaded when her back hit her closed door, "You are drunk…and really upset about something, which you can tell me about tomorrow morning when you're sober. Goodnight!" she squeaked, opening her door and then shutting it abruptly in his face.

"Bloody hell." he groaned, and staggered off to his bed, passing out the moment his body hit the sheets.

Disclaimer: Mark Lynch, and Johnny Lynch are the creative property of the incredible Jypzrose/Lisa. I had her FULL permission to use them!!!! They are not to be used without consent from her. If you have any questions about this, e-mail her at Jypzrose@aol.com. Thanks-Alantie.

Chapter 11:

"Buffy!" Spike's voice cracked as he groaned for his roommate. He rolled over in his bed and pressed his palm against his forehead in agony, "Buffy, goddamn it, come here please!!"

Buffy had been reading on the sofa, and she looked up when she heard his moan. She smiled wickedly as she walked to his room and pushed open the door to reveal her best friend sprawled across his bed, still in his clothes from the night before, and in a full-fledged hangover.

"Well, hello, dear sir. Welcome to the world of sober!" she said sweetly as she sat on his bed.

"Shut your gob, bint." Spike muttered in pain, "And get me a cure!" he begged pitifully, putting his head under a pillow.

Buffy smiled gently and smoothed her hand down his spine before heading to the kitchen for a hangover beer, asprin, and some water. When she returned, Spike was laying bare-chested on the rumpled sheets, taking deep breaths to sooth the pounding in his skull.

"Here." she said simply, handing him the asprin and water. He washed them down greedily and then collapsed onto the mattress again, "So what got you so angry that you drank half the alcohol in California?"

"Nothin'." he lied, crawling towards her and putting his head on her lap, seeking her friendly healing touch. She combed her fingers through his curls. "I don't need an excuse to get that drunk."

"Liar. You said last night that you were angry....among other..words that were spoken.." she trailed off, eyes dropping nervously to the floor as she recalled his seduction. He rolled slightly so he could squint up at her.

"Wha' else did I say?" he asked tentatively, searching Buffy's bright face in the morning light.

"Well..um.." she began, her cheeks flushing red, "I don't really....well, I was wearing...a towel. Only..a towel."

Spike sat up abruptly, and then regretted it when his head started swimming crazily.

"Only a towel? Oh god..." he muttered, putting his head in his hands. He then looked up at her suddenly again, "I didn't...do anything to you...did I, pet?"

"Something about how I wanted you to take advantage of me since I didn't get dressed when you told me to. And...you kinda touched me." his eyes widened comically at that. "No! Just my thigh. You just slid your hand up my thigh, and backed me against my bedroom door, thats it. That was all."

She finished her explanation softly, clasping her hands and setting them in her lap. He reached over and covered her tiny hands with his own.

"Buffy, I'm sorry. You know I'd never want to take advantage of you. Ever. An' I'm sorry for touching you like that. Tha' was inappropriate of me. My Drunk Self apparently does not recognize the boundaries of friend-to-friend touching. It will never 'appen again, I promise you." he said seriously, gazing at her profile as she looked down at the floor. When he finished talking she sighed sadly, and then looked up at him, a fake smile plastered to her lips as she swiped back a whisp of hair hanging along her cheek.

"Yeah, thanks for the apology. I hope you don't do that ever again." she forced herself to say. Then her smile turned prying again and she squirmed closer to him, "Soo...what had you so mad?"

"You really want to know?" Spike asked laying his head back down on her lap. Her fingers instantly found his bleached locks again.

"Yes."

"Riley."

"Explain, please. Him being my boyfriend, and all."

And so Spike explained, telling the story from start to finish.

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

Buffy unlocked Riley's apartment door slowly, still contemplating what she wanted to say to him. It opened with a loud squeak, and she stepped into the dinginess that was his living habitat.

"Riley?" she called out, putting her keys on the bar as she ventured into the room.

"Back here!" he answered. She followed his voice and the loud buzz of a razor to his bathroom.

"Hey." she said quietly, entering the fluorescent light of the bathroom and sitting on the edge of the tub. “We need to talk."

"Well then go ahead and talk while I get ready for work." Riley said, looking at her through the reflection of the mirror.

"It's kinda serious, so could you stop whatever you're doing?" she asked tersely.

"Shaving, Buffy, its called shaving. Girls shave their legs. Men shave their faces. You should know that, considering you live with one." Riley said shortly, continuing to move the razor over his strong jaw. Buffy stood up and glared at him through the mirror.

"I guess you want to get right to it then, don't you? Tell me why you and Spike argued." she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

"Spike was being a know-it-all jackass." Riley said with a shrug.

"He was DEFENDING me!!" Buffy shouted, "Something you should have been doing for once in your life!"

"No, Buffy. He was trying to rattle my cage, by getting on Forrest's case, and telling me shit about Adam, and talking about how you LOOOVED his art." Riley spat, rinsing off the last of the shaving gel from his cheeks. He turned around to face his tiny, fuming girlfriend.

"Well, I say 'good on him'. Forrest needed someone to get on his case, since you apparently lack the strength to do so."

"Buffy, please." Riley rolled his eyes, "You really-"

She cut off his next words by raising her palm, and continuing, "And as for Adam, it wasn't shit. I TOLD you I was uncomfortable with him, and that he'd make a move. And way to go me! I was right!"

"Maybe it was a friendly move. Like a brother-to-sister thing, or something. You probably overreacted by punching him." Riley said, leaning against the sink.

Buffy gaped at him, and then laughed incredulously, "Right! Of course! I overreacted!! It was a brother-sister move, you know, since INCEST is *sooo* friendly." she said sarcastically, and then turned on her heel and marched to the kitchen. Riley followed her.

"And the art?" he asked her. She grabbed her keys and then looked up at him, eyes swimming with brutal honesty and hurt.

"I do love Spike's art, Riley. I've loved it since I was a kid and he was still drawing cartoon characters and airplanes. You know that. Why make it such an issue now?" she said softly.

"Because you and Spike have always had this incredible bond that no one can touch. And you treat him so well, its almost like he is your husband, you know? And when I fell in love with you, I thought that if I could just get to that point with you...then you and I would be perfect. But the closer you and I get, the more I see how far away from me you are. Spike and you are just best friends. You and I are lovers. But I don't hold that piece of you I want to hold." Riley explained, searching the floor with his eyes as if it held the answer to all his problems.

"Riley...I am trying, okay? But… when you don't defend me against Forrest… and you take all your frustration out on Spike...it hurts me." she said, tears coming to her hazel gems.

"To be honest, I don't want to defend you from Forrest, because I can see where he's coming from. Spike being the man I want to be for you, makes me more angry than hurt. You're a bitch." Riley said simply, coldness seeping into his eyes when they looked at her again.

Buffy reeled back as if she had been slapped. "What did you say?" she breathed in disbelief.

"You are a bitch. I try and try to be the one for you, but you never let me in. Your guy is right here!" he exclaimed, opening his arms to indicate himself, "and you ignore it. You aren't the long-haul girl, that’s for sure."

"I- I can be!" she protested, the tears beginning to spill down her cheeks.

"No, you can't. You aren't capable of the commitment it takes for a relationship." Riley said, turning away from her and going to the kitchen to get a snack.

"A-are you breaking up with m-me?" Buffy stuttered, looking at his retreating back while she choked back sobs.

"Yes." Riley said simply, "Now, please return your key, and go home to your roommate."

Buffy let out a squawk of unbelief as the suddenness of the break-up hit her full force. She tugged the key off the ring and threw it at him in rage, and then ran out the door, pulling it shut with a satisfying bang.

She ran home, heedless of the tears running down her face until she caught her reflection in a liquor store window.

Liquor. Now there was an idea...

A/N--So sorry it took so long for all of this stuff! These have been written forever, but I had an issue in real life that required my time and energy. Just a tiny issue called....the Buffy Posting Board Party in Los Angeles!!! I am still coming down from it. Total lack of sleep the entire weekend. And the adrenaline of meeting the cast and crew and other fans fades so fast the day after, that it leaves you feeling like you got hit by a truck. So its been a long week of recovery. But I can now finish this story and die happy. James smiled at me. And Joss was impressed with me. Those are two wonderful, wonderful things. ;-) I also met a ton of other Buffy and Angel and Firefly people, but ya'll don't want to hear all about that!! Now, on with the tale...

Chapter 12:

Spike entered the apartment in his usual fashion: open the door, hang his keys on the hook, pull off his jacket and toss it onto the couch, and then announce to everybody/Buffy/no one, that he was home. But this time he only got to item number 3, when his thrown jacket landed on a very intoxicated Buffy.

"Heeeeeey, Spike!" she drawled, holding up the vodka bottle and sloshing the remaining inch of liquid back and forth.

"Heeeeeey, Buffy!" Spike mimicked, an amused smile settling on his lips, "Wha's that you're drinkin'?"

"Noooo-thing!" she grinned innocently and took another swig, 'bleching' as it made firey trails down her throat that led straight to her head, not her stomach. Spike jumped over the back of the couch and settled down next to her.

"Nothin', eh? You drank almost all 'f that nothing." he observed, tapping the glass of the bottle. She giggled.

"Yup, and wanna know something?" she whispered, leaning close to him. He nodded and leaned forward too, "Look in the refridgedairatoror."

Spike jumped up and opened the refrigerator door to reveal 10 more bottles full of Vodka, "Buffy! My god, girl. Wha' happened?"

"RILEY!" she answered, holding up the bottle again, "Riley broke up with me! Loser. He had a nice dick, but that's about all I liked about him. An' I bet your dick is ten times....no! One Hundred times better!! We should test that theory."

Spike's eyes shot up at her at that, and then he bit back a laugh. Hooo boy, she was even hornier than he was when he was drunk, "Yeah, okay, Love. You went out an' got drunk just because Whitebread broke up with you?"

Buffy waved her hand through the air, as if erasing what Spike said, "No no no...I'm apprently not the "long-haul girl". I have "commitment problems" and all that bull shit, " She said sadly, studying the label of her bottle, "But I sure am gonna miss his penis."

Spike made an expression of disgust at that, "Oh jeez, now you are startin' to sound like Anya."

"So, gonna join me in my drinking?" Buffy asked, standing up on wobbly legs and stumbling to the kitchen.

"Eh, I don' think so, pet." he said, backing away from her.

"What? You don't want us to," she fluttered her eyelashes, and put a hot hand on his leather-clad thigh, "take advantage of each other?"

"Um...no, I don't think tha' will be a good idea." he gulped at her speaking his words from the previous night, as her hand moved to his inner thigh. He reached down and pushed it away slowly.

"Fine!" she pouted, and then grabbed another full bottle from the fridge and stumbled back to the living room. Spike let out a sigh of relief…and then realized that Buffy was about to down another full bottle of alcohol.

"Buffy-Love, you are gonna get alcohol poisoning if you drink s' much. Why don' you give me that, and I'll pour you another couple'a shots, and then you'll be done for tonight?" he coaxed reaching over the back of the couch to retrieve the bottle.

"You are such a dork, Spike." she laughed, jumping across the coffee table to the lay-z-boy. He leapt over the couch.

"I am not a dork." he whined, stepping over the coffee-table.

"You know what? I'm gonna drink to that! To Spike, " she began in an a mock-formal voice, holding up the bottle for the umpteenth time that night, "the king of dorks, who's beautiful girlfriend broke up with him because he's a prude, and now he doesn't get any. Not like he was getting some before. To Spike!"

She took a triumphant swallow before Spike pulled the bottle from her iron grip and raised it in the air.

"To Buffy. The girl who will never get married because she's only good for sex, according to the best friend of her ex. Not like I would know, since I can only stand being friends with her, and since she can't commit to anyone else, I gotta fill the gap. To Buffy!" he took 3 long swallows.

"Hey! Thats too much!!" she whined, and grabbed the bottle back from him. "And Spike? You don't fill my gap. I don't think you're big enough." she said in a sultry tone.

"If I were drunk, I'd have a come-back for that, but I think I'm jus' gonna ignore it now." he said, pointing an accusing finger at her, "Wash your mouth out with soap."

"I'd prefer to wash it out with somethin' else." she said dryly, and gulped down the remaining vodka. "More please!"

"No." Spike said sternly, looking into her red-rimmed eyes. She leaned forward and grabbed his shirt collar.

"I am gonna drink EVERY. SINGLE. DROP. of alcohol in this apartment, so if you don't want me to drink it, you're gonna have to down it yourself, Prude." she enunciated the best she could through the slur of her heavy tongue. Then she stood and fumbled her way to the kitchen again.

"You are such a stubborn-" he trailed off when he saw her twist open yet another bottle and begin to gulp down the clear liquid. He stood up and jumped over and took it from her, putting the mouth of the bottle to his lips and drinking the rest. He gasped when he pulled it back and tossed its emptiness into the trashcan. "Cheers!" he said, and reached for another bottle...

--- --- ---

An hour later, Buffy and Spike lay sprawled across the couch, surrounded by empty bottles and bowls of popcorn.

"How many bagsh of popcorn have we ate tonight?" Bufy slurred, tossing a fluffy piece of popcorn into the air and pathetically attempting to catch it in her mouth. It bounced lightly down her chest and disappeared into her cleavage.

"Dunno. Finished the box, so shix, I think." Spike rolled his head lazily to look over at her, "'Ey! You're washting the popcorn! Lettin' it fly all over.."

"You want it?" she dared, looking at him from under her long lashes, "Go fish."

Spike tilted his head in admiration of her dare, and then scooched closer to her on the couch. His hand danced drunkily up her arm, and slid across her chest, before he plunged his fingers between her breasts to retrieve the piece of popcorn. She gasped when he unfastened the front clasp of her bra as he searched.

"Spike..." she sighed as his hand slipped under the loosened bra cup, and began to slowly caress her milky breast.

"M'sorry, pet, but what was I shearching for again?" he asked in mock-innocence, watching her eyes darken with lust.

"This." she replied, grabbing his collar and pulling his lips to hers. His mouth devoured her, his tongue sliding around her lips, teeth, and tongue as she sucked eagerly on his mouth. He pulled his hand away from her breast momentarily, and she pulled away from his lips to moan in outrage. He took the opportunity to fumble with her shirt, finally pulling it over her head. She sighed happily when his hands attacked her bare breasts with fervor, and then dove back in for more wet kissing.

"Oh god, more. More. More. More." she panted as he dragged his tongue down her jaw and to her earlobe.

"Ooh, the lil' girl has become a bitch in heat. I guess Riley din't really satisfy you." Spike whispered teasingly against her neck.

"Guessh not." she moaned headily, moving to straddle his hips. "You're up to the challenge of tryin' though, I see." she quipped, rubbing herself against his hard cock.

"Got you squirmin' about on my dick. 'f course m' up." he shot back, his head bending to suck on her nipples. Her hands wound in his hair and firmly pushed his head to her breasts. She threw her head back and moaned with pleasure as he nibbled and sucked her sensitive skin. He suddenly stopped.

"Spike! No! Keep going!" she began to shout, until she felt his hands slide up to her ass, to hold her against him while he stood up.

"'M taking you to my bed." he explained simply, trying to focus his blurred and intoxicated mind on the task of walking to his bedroom without dropping Buffy, or falling himself.

"Oh. Good." she breathed seductively, turning her attention to his perfect earlobe. Then she began to rub her hips against his erection while he walked.

"Pet..I don' wanna drop you." he warned in a whimper, feeling himself sway as his member throbbed against her crotch. Her hand came down and unzipped his jeans, "Oh fuck..." he cursed as her hand encircled him. He stumbled against a wall, pushing her back against it, which caused her body to slam into his cock more firmly.

Buffy watched his mouth go slack, and his head loll back as she touched him. She slowly dropped her legs from his waist, her available hand unzipping her own pants and sliding them down her legs, while the other hand continued to caress him. Once her pants and underwear were removed, she jumped back onto him, and pulled her hand away from his dick.

"No, Buffy...keep...touching..." he gasped.

"Want somethin' better." she said stubbornly, and then held his cock as she lowered herself onto him. His eyes opened, clouded with lust and surprise.

"Oh yeah, baby..." he breathed, planting his hands on the wall on either side of her head and beginning to pump in and out of her. She stretched her head back and began to bite at the air in time with each thrust, clenching and unclenching her teeth.

"Fuck...harder..." she ground out. He smirked wickedly and began to drive more forcefully into her sleek, wet channel.

"Oh god, Buffy, you're so goddamn hot..." he panted into her ear. She groaned in response, clutching violently at his muscular shoulders, digging her fingernails into the fabric of his shirt. Suddenly the climax that loomed just out of reach came crashing down on her, and she bucked against his hips, her inner muscles wringing his hardness.

"Uhhh, that...was...amazing..." she said between rapid breaths. Then she noticed he was still hard, and still buried inside of her. "Spike...take me to your bed..."

He nodded drunkenly, and held her onto his body as he stumbled to the bed. He fell on top of her, still intimately joined, the motion causing him to sink even further into her heat.

"Take...off...your...stuff." Buffy whispered into his ear, moving her hips up and down to urge him to hurry. He tugged off the shirt and tossed it into the darkness of the room around them, and then pushed his pants down to his ankles, putting all his weight on his hands as he kicked them off.

"Y' know, 'm drunk enough to not be able to stop now, but not drunk enough to not remember tha' tomorrow morning 's gonna be shtrange." Spike said, as he began to move above her. She slid her hands over the rippling muscles of his back.

"Shpike. I'm still waaaaay drunk. That didn't make any shense to me." she slurred, opening her legs as wide as possible to give him more room to thrust into her.

"Yeh...sorry pet." he grunted, moving a little faster. She began to move as well, squeezing him with her inner muscles again, trying to help him get his climax. He reached down and began to gently massage her clit between his fingers.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, feeling her release of ecstasy building again.

"Want you with me." he explained, bending his head into her neck, and settling his weight on his forearm. She arched into his body, pressing her sweaty breasts against his sculpted chest. Their drunken minds were trying desperately to catch up to the swirling sparks of hot pleasure that simmered beneath the surface of their union. It was amazing emotion though, despite the intoxication. Buffy knew in the back of her mind, in the sober part, that this moment was the one she had been waiting for her whole life.

The climax came crashing down on both of them at the same time. Buffy keened and held onto his torso, hands pressing the small of his back and rippling shoulder blade firmly, fingers splayed to touch as much skin as possible. He pulled his hand away from her clit and folded both arms beside her head, burying his face into her locks of shimmering hair as he collapsed onto her body. She held him, nurturing, and then uttered the sober words that her mind had been wanting to say for ages...

"I...love...you, Spike."

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