"Happy, Texas" by Desire

Rating: NC-17, yeah, you know you like it…

Setting: Season 4 implied. Here’s the deal: let’s pretend that Spike never made it to Sunnydale and got that nasty government chip, oh and that he and Dru resided in LA instead of Brazil. Does that make this AU, hell I don’t know…but it’s fun to pretend, isn’t it children? Next time we’ll learn how to share…

Disclaimer: Late one night while doing tequila shots, Joss and I came up with this fantastical world filled with vampires and demons, possible Britney Spears cameos, and tiny little blonde girls who fight them. I told Joss as he swallowed the worm, "This shit’ll never work! What the hell kind of prissy white girl name is Buffy anway?!" He left me that night, passed out, and headed for Hollywood where after royally messing things up (Kristy Swanson and Luke Perry), he turned these characters into something to be proud of. In other words: I don’t own a thing. As a matter of fact, that whole drunken night with Joss never happened and my therapist says I should stop telling people that story…

Author’s Note: Alright kids, I forgot to mention that the title is inspired by the movie of the same name. Yes, I poke a bit of fun at Southerners in this, but I can do that…cause I am Southern, gives me an all access pass so to speak. It’s all done out of love really, I kid because I love…oh, and if there really is a place called Happy, Texas, I’m truly sorry, I mean no harm with this story.

Summary: While on her way to stop another end of the world prophecy, Buffy finds herself stranded in a small town. (I suck at summaries, I promise it’s not as lame as I make it sound.)

**********

Bourbon, scotch, tequila…salt, lemons, did he just swallow the worm? Is there really a worm at the bottom of a tequila bottle? Is the barkeep too busy to answer his question?

He eyed some of the women that sauntered in and out of the bar, one in particular that had taken a seat a few stools down from him. She flirted with some guy in a NASCAR shirt, playing with some stray beer nuts in the basket in front of her. She had big hair, teased out towards the sky. Big, bigger than anything he’d ever seen, and bleached, an extremely bad dye job.

What was it with these women in Texas? Did they actually think that big teased hair made them more attractive, classier, made them desirable? It looked like a rat’s nest but he checked her out anyway. He hadn’t seen any play in weeks, it felt more like months, maybe it was months…this truck stop bint was better than nothing.

"Barkeep…another round here."

The bartender eyed him warily but poured more drink into five, empty shot glasses that were sitting before him. He downed two of them, savoring the way the liquor burned the back of his throat, a little proud that he had built up such a high tolerance for alcohol over the years. Sputtering and coughing was for pussy’s, and he was no pussy.

He loomed over the basket of congealed hot wings in front of him, picking up one and studying it, licking the hot sauce off and dropping it back in the basket. He let the sauce burn his tongue and then cooled it with another shot of bourbon.

"You know, the funny thing is, I thought I could just go back and be the man I was. So, I get there and she’s just different, you know…"

"Mmmm-hmmm." The man sitting next to him mumbled, putting his arm up on the bar, propping his head in his hand. He had come that night just to have a few drinks before heading home, and had ended up being the sounding board for the vampire’s troubles.

The steady stream of Coors Light had hit him long ago, helping him tune out the whiney punk.

"She’s not talking to me as much, she doesn’t want to spend any time with me, she’s not taking any of my presents…and those were some damn good presents!"

"I bet they were."

"You’re damn straight they were! Do you know how bloody hard it is to get a still-beating heart of a virgin?! Well, I did it, and in Southern California no less, must’ve found the last sodding virgin in the state, and does she appreciate it?! He angrily slammed his fist onto the bar top, rattling the glasses. "Does she?!"

"Um…no?"

"Exactly!" He said, a trace of bitter venom in his voice. "Barkeep, another round here…"

"What, what’s your name again…"

"Stanley."

"Right, Stanley. You got a girl, Stanley…"

"I, I have a wife…"

"A wife? That’s, that’s bloody good, Stanley…" He picked up another hot wing, licking the sauce off, putting it back in the basket, washing it down with a quick shot of Bourbon. "You buy your wife presents? Nice little ‘I love you’ gifts?"

"Yeah, sometimes…" Stanley nodded. "Once, I took her out to eat at the Olive Garden for our anniversary…"

"That’s downright decent of you, Stan. Tell me did your wife…what’s her name?" Spike asked feigning interest. This was the most conversation he’d had since arriving here, and he was lonely and bitter enough to keep it going, even if Stanley seemed liked a boring ponce.

"Gloria, her name’s Gloria."

"Gloria…nice name. So, did Gloria appreciate that nice dinner at the Olive Garden?"

Stanley nodded. "Yeah, I think so…" Spike reached over and patted the man on the back, giving him a drunken smile. "You’ve got one of the good one’s, Stan. Do you think Dru would appreciate a dinner at the Olive Garden?"

"Um…I, really couldn’t say, I don’t know Dru…"

"Yeah, well…" Spike hissed cutting him off. His wounds were still fresh but the alcohol swimming in veins had broken the off switch to his mouth. As much as he wanted to shut up, desperate to shut up, he couldn’t shut up. He was going to sit here in this dive bar and pour out his heart to a little man who could give two shits about his problems, but was too polite to say so.

"That bitch would never appreciate that, like everything else I did for her! So…" Spike sighed heavily, dropping another chicken wing. "She said this wasn’t working for her anymore. So, I said fine, you know, cause I’m not going to beg her again…I’m through with bloody begging her! And she says that she’s leaving LA and I tell her fine, you know, cause I don’t give a shit…" Shut up, shut up, shut up…

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Over a hundred years together and she just gets up and leaves…" The words fell from his lips in a choked sob. Oh great, he was going to cry in front of Stanley, in front of the barkeep with the huge snake tattoo on his arm, and in front of the big haired woman…

He could feel the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes and Spike put his head down on the bar, pushing away the glasses and the hot wings. He was going to sit like this until the pain went away, until he could be mister tough bad ass in front of this redneck bar again.

He felt a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and heard Stanley sigh heavily. "Hey there, sometimes problems in a marriage can make it feel like a hundred years."

*********

The alcohol had made him feel numb on the inside, dead, er…deader, but somehow his pain receptors were alive enough to feel the pavement hitting his face.

The barkeep shouted all kinds of obscenities at him before shutting the backdoor on him. He couldn’t quite remember what had happened, something to do with the big haired woman, her drink, and his dick. The words were mangled in a haze of bourbon, and scotch, and whatever else he’d had, oh yeah, tequila and didn’t register with him at all. Nothing registered save for the garbagey smell of the bar’s back alley and the constant voice bleating in his ear like a goat.

"Are you okay? Are you okay?" Spike moaned and opened one eye, one very bloodshot eye. Stanley stood over him, a look of worry on his face. Helluva nice guy, he’d only been talking to him for thirty minutes and yet Stan managed some kind of compassion and concern for him.

"Yeah mate, just peachy. Could use a bit of help here."

"Oh, right." Stanley said almost sheepishly. He pulled Spike to his feet, helping to prop him up, draping his lazy arm around his shoulders. "Okay, buddy, you’ll be fine. Just go home, get a bite to eat, sleep it off, you’ll feel better in the morning.

Yeah, that sounded good. His stomach-rumbled inspite of himself, he really hadn’t eaten, those chicken wings didn’t count, he needed real food. He found himself watching the vein in Stanley’s neck pulsate. He could never get over the funky little rhythm blood made while it was pumping, coursing through the body. It was beautiful in a way and the next time he was in close contact like this, he would take the time to appreciate it. The living human body and all of its neat little functions and beats. His mouth was watering, artful appreciation would have to wait.

********

Giles was cheap. Plain and simple. He was sending her off to fight some unspeakable evil, some really nasty being and she could die, not come back ever, and he couldn’t loosen his wallet enough to get her a plane ticket.

The Watcher’s words, dripping with sarcasm, lingered in her ears. A bus ride from Sunnydale to Cleveland, has Giles been on a bus lately? The people were scarier than any vamp or demon she had ever faced and she felt cramped beyond belief. She was missing valuable school time, not that Professor Walsh’s cold stares when she caught her napping, and killer term papers were a thing to be missed, but getting quality stare time at Riley and smooches long after class had ended were.

She’d made up some lie about a precious dying aunt in Cleveland, earning the sympathy from her professors and her ever-caring boyfriend. Bring on the guilt. She couldn’t tell him the real reason she was leaving town…

Evil demon thingy, ancient prophesies, yadda yadda yadda.

What had Giles called it? Calsistifore? It does some mystical something or other, she couldn’t quite remember, her orders were to seek and destroy before a vampire cult hell bent on world destruction got to it first. She was to stay with one his Watcher friends and take care of it alone. No Willow, no Xand, and god, even no Anya. Just her, just Buffy, all alone.

She sighed loudly and pushed the scrambled eggs around on her plate. The bus had made a pit stop in some run down Texas town, and to no surprise found a Wafflehouse for it’s weary travelers to grab a bite to eat at. Buffy motioned for the waitress and got her coffee refilled. She was going to have to be careful, coffee has certain affects on her bladder and there was no way she was going to use the bathroom on the bus. Not after getting a good look at it the first time.

A good looking, young guy sitting in the booth in front of her flashed her a smile. She smiled back, flattered. She may have Riley but it doesn’t mean she can’t play the flirting game, no harm in that, right?

She became so engrossed with the staring and making circles with her cold eggs, that she completely didn’t notice the bus pulling out of the parking lot.

********

Shit.

Usually Buffy could think of several clever witticisms but her brain could only form around one word at the moment.

Shit.

A long walk to the Happy bus station, in what was the middle of the night. Great, this just keeps getting better and better, once she got back home she was going to do something really nasty to Giles to get him back for this, maybe bring up sex and her mom again, that always did the trick.

"What do you mean there’s no bus to Cleveland for another five days?!" She wasn’t hearing this, there had to be another way out of here, there was no way she was going to stay in this shithole town for a whole five days.

"I mean there’s no bus to Cleveland until next Tuesday, a whole five days." The little snarkey guy in the window repeated for her. Suddenly, Buffy wanted to smash his face in. He seemed to be enjoying her pain, relishing in it, god she wanted to hit him.

"What am I supposed to do for five days?" She whined and the guy shrugged unsympathetically. "I don’t know sweetheart, you’re on your own. Now, we’re closed so you’ll have get going."

He pulled the metal shade down, closing his window off to her, shutting her out.

Shit.

********

Spike stumbled along the sidewalk, at least he thought he was stumbling. For all he knew, the booze could have actually worn off and he could be walking like the normal, completely sober bloke would, but he felt like he was stumbling. It didn’t really matter anyway, it’s not like the people in this town would arrest anyone for public drunkenness, he was pretty sure he heard the theme from Deliverance when he first set foot on the ground here.

Where was he going? Oh yeah, home, got a bite to eat and now he’s going home to lick his wounds and sleep it off. He groaned a little. Helluva nice guy, Stanley was but he got stuck in his teeth, hated when that happened. Where was home again?

Oh yeah, the Ramada Inn.

Things began to blur and Spike felt a tad dizzy, he had to sit down somewhere, anywhere. The bus station wall was as good a place as any.

As soon as he closed his eyes, he heard it. The tiny but strong footsteps making their way out of the station, stopping a few feet in front of him, the smell of confidence, power, and vanilla.

"Oh, God…Spike."

The Slayer. Suddenly he was feeling very sober, she was like a strong pot of coffee, an annoying pot of coffee. He opened his eyes and met her scowl with one of his own, the trademark ‘fuck you too’ grin that set her off so easily.

"This is the last thing I need."

"Nice to see you too, luv. How ya been, pretend I care."

She could tell he was roaring drunk, he knew it. Why else would she be standing there with her hands on her hips instead of kicking his ass up and down main street, or at least trying to. Of course if he was good and sober he’d have been on his feet the second he sensed her, ready to snap her pretty little neck in two, dance on her bones, bathe in her blood. He smiled at the thought, involuntary reaction.

"Could you be more pathetic? What happened, Drusilla dump you again?" Buffy smiled. She was smiling! He was in an unbelievable amount of pain here and she smiled at it, took great pleasure in it. Yeah, if things were the other way around he’d be smiling too, even taking advantage of her drunken state…but coming from her, it’s just…cruel.

"None of your business, you silly cow!" He roared angrily, and she chuckled. "Yep, she dumped you, huh? I have to tell you, Spike, you’re even more sad this time around than you were the last. I’m amazed, really, you’re a pro at the pathetic-ness."

"What are you doing here, Slayer? Sunnydale get to boring for you, you have to come and seek out your targets state to state now?"

"I got stranded. You don’t actually think that I would stay here purposely do you?"

He shrugged, he must still be extremely drunk, carrying on what seemed like a conversation with the Slayer. Maybe he was just really lonely…

"Only losers with no direction and no where else to go would stay…oh…wait…" She smiled that smile again. She was loving this, loving his pain and misery. Bitch.

Silence fell between them. Spike let his eyes fall shut, maybe this is all a bad dream, maybe he’s not actually in Happy, Texas drunk off his ass, with the Slayer standing two inches in front of him…

He took a chance and opened his eyes again, hoping to find himself back in LA with Dru.

No Dru, just Buffy, standing before him with her hands shoved in her pockets. It’s not a dream, and she’s right, he is good at the pathetic-ness.

"Stranded you say? Where are you supposed to be, again, pretend I care."

"On a snug Greyhound to Cleveland. I never thought I would actually miss that damn bus. So…" She began, nervously scrapping the toe of her shoe over the pavement. "Where are you staying?"

********

"It’s gonna be twenty dollars extra if the girl is staying…"

Spike grumbled and removed a crumpled twenty from the pocket in his duster, he handed it to the pimply-faced kid behind the motel counter.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this, rooming with the Slayer, his bloody mortal enemy. They were supposed to be engaged in some kind of battle of the ages, not bunking like old mates. He blamed the alcohol as his reason for not turning her down when she asked if she could stay with him. They had made a deal, their truce from two years ago stood intact and there wouldn’t be a single attempt at trying to end the others life, or unlife. He wouldn’t step on her toes and she wouldn’t his, they would get through these five days of hell and never speak of it again.

*******

"You can sleep on the floor, I get the bed."

"I’m not sleeping on the floor, what the hell is wrong with you!"

"It’s my room, woman!"

Buffy flopped down on the end of the bed, boneless, exhausted, sweat binding her clothes to her skin. She needed to get out of them, she needed a shower. She groaned at the realization that her bag with her belongings was on its way to Cleveland.

"What?"

"I need a shower."

"Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but you are a little ripe, Slayer." She cut her eyes at him, quelling any desire to grab the stake hidden in the waistband of her pants and dust him on the spot.

"I don’t have any clothes, unfortunately, they’re heading down I-75 as we speak. Can I borrow…"

Spike grabbed a black T-shirt from the drawer and threw it at Buffy, hitting her in the face, cutting her sentence short. "There, anything else I can get you since I’m bleeding Goodwill all of a sudden."

"Nope." Buffy said climbing to her feet, heading towards the bathroom. "Just the T-shirt."

*******

As soon as she got out of the shower, Buffy made a b-line for the phone, calling Giles. He gave her his trademark disappointed voice and she quickly reminded him that if he had bought her a plane ticket, none of this would have happened.

Spike slumped down in the chair, trying to concentrate on Tom and Jerry. The alcohol in his system had begun to dry up, leaving him with the screaming pain that is sobering up. He brought a hand to his head, trying to stifle the pounding that was forming, the Slayer’s grating voice yaking away on the phone wasn’t helping much either.

He tuned her conversation with the Watcher in and out, every once and a while opting for the cartoon cat and mouse. He was watching Uncle Peacos give it real good to Tom, when he spotted it out of the corner of his eye…

A small uncovered patch of the Slayer’s thigh, a glistening golden tan. The bed covers fell away a little more as she moved, revealing a little more. So much power and strength in that leg, it could crush him, and for a moment he wouldn’t have minded. He let his mind wander, what would it be like to touch it, to feel it around him, to run his fingers up and down…

What the hell was he thinking?! This was the fucking Slayer for Christ sakes. He shook the thoughts out of his mind, but they had already made it to dick. Silently cursing himself, he readjusted his jeans, Buffy was too busy gabbing to the Watcher to notice, she wasn’t paying attention, he was safe.

Spike refocused his attention on the TV, remembering that as soon as the sun came up, he planned on throwing her scrawny ass out of that bed.

TBC…

Part 2:

She was staring at him, he could tell. Here he was trying to focus on the rerun of Conan O’Brien and she was staring at him, he could feel her eyes on him, burning a hole in the back of his head, driving him crazy…

"What?"

"Nothing."

Silence.

He chuckled when the masturbating bear came out, the bear always made him laugh…oh and Triumph the insult comic dog, couldn’t forget him. Damn it! She was staring again, didn’t Joyce tell her staring wasn’t polite, what the hell was her problem…

"What?"

"What do you mean ‘what’? I didn’t say anything!" She paused then added. "And they say the hearing’s the first thing to go in old age…" Smirking, pulling the covers up further.

"But you want to say something, so go ahead and say it."

"I don’t have anything to say to you, matter of fact, the more I don’t have to talk to you, the better."

"Say it, god damn it!" He screamed, his patience had worn thin he didn’t feel like playing games tonight especially with her.

"Why did Dru leave you?"

She’d waited a bit before actually saying the words, but it didn’t help to take the sting off of them. Why did Dru leave? He didn’t know, boredom, frustration, good-looking fungus demons. Spike shrugged his shoulders and slumped down in his chair. She’s expecting some kind of answer, waiting for one, not that he had to give her an answer of any kind. He could just leave it with a good ‘fuck you, Slayer’ and be done with it. Her eyes were burning holes in the back of his skull again, melting away the flesh, he didn’t have to answer her…

"Dunno. She fell out of love I guess."

More silence. Spike actually hated the silence, especially when he knew she had more to say. Some wise ass crack, she just hadn’t put it all together yet. Why was she being so fucking quiet, there’s got to be something smart she wanted to say about him and Dru.

"Can vampire’s grow facial hair?"

"What the bleeding hell are you talking about?" Facial hair? He was expecting to hear something witty, expecting the smart-ass bitch he knew and loathed and she asks him if he can grow facial hair? Does she have the brain of a five-year-old?

"Can vamps grow facial hair? Like a nice manly beard or a goatee."

"Why are you asking me this?"

"I don’t know, I just never seen a vamp with facial hair. I always kinda wondered…"

"Yes, Slayer, vampires can grow facial hair, we can also turn water into wine." She rolled her eyes, he didn’t actually see her roll her eyes but he could feel it, the trademark eye-rolling.

"What do you do all day?"

"What do I do all day? What is this, twenty sodding questions?!"

Buffy shrugged. "I’m bored, you’re here, humor me." Spike sighed loudly, making her smile. She was going to annoy him until he couldn’t take it any more and passed out in the chair, all part of her evil scheme to make sure she didn’t end up floor. "I know you don’t sleep all day like a normal vamp, so what do you do?"

"I watch TV, I listen to a little music, I read…"

"What do you read?"

"Novels, poetry…"

"What’s your favorite book?"

"The Fountainhead."

"Really? I’ve read that."

"You’ve read The Fountainhead? And your head didn’t explode from all of the big words?" He smirked and he could feel her rolling her eyes again.

"Gee you’re funny. Yes I read it, it was the funniest book ever." The Fountainhead funny? And this girl was in college? Spike snorted, stifling a laugh.

"What was so funny about it, luv?"

"No real person could fight and hold back their emotions the way Roark did. He was like a machine. Plus, we’re supposed to root for the guy who rapes the woman he loves?"

"Well, he didn’t really rape her, she wanted it."

"She wanted it?" Buffy scoffed. "Wait, of course you would think that, being a pig and all."

"No, Slayer, you’re looking at it all wrong. Roark and Dominique danced around each other, hurt each other because they desperately loved one another, and they did it because they knew the other could take it. They were cut from the same cloth, taking the easy safe road wasn’t their style. If he had tried to wine and dine her like every other stupid sod, she wouldn’t have wanted him, she wouldn’t have even let him touch her. The relationship had to be borne out of something ugly and violent, that’s what made it beautiful."

That was a new look, the expression on her face was one he’d never seen before. Kind of soft in a way, usually when talking to him, her features were pulled tight in a clear sign of disgust, but suddenly it wasn’t there anymore. It almost looks like a smile but not the evil smile…maybe someone had slipped something in his drink and he was starting to hallucinate.

"What’s your favorite poem?"

"That’s one I’m not telling you, pet."

"Why not?"

"It’s private." And it would make him feel like a total nancy boy, he didn’t feel like having her laugh at him any more tonight.

"Anything you wanna ask me?"

"Yeah, why do you ask so many fucking questions?"

She smiled, the evil smile. "I’m curious by nature."

"What do you do when you’re not at school or busy killing my cousins?"

"Sit in my room or on the couch and vegetate, I don’t get much down time." She yawned loudly and settled down into the bed.

"Don’t get too comfortable, luv."

"Touch me and I’ll kill you, Spike." She yawned again. "Anymore questions?"

"One more. Why did Angel leave you?"

Spike could hear her breath catch in her chest, her heart stop beating for a nanosecond. He’d crossed the line and could care less. He smiled. She poured salt in his wounds with the Dru question and he had been waiting to return the favor.

Buffy swallowed hard, pushing down the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, and turned over in bed.

"It’s private."

TBC…

Part 3:

********

Buffy turned over, the pain and stiffness in her neck slowly becoming apparent. This was the worst motel bed she'd ever slept in, she had cramps in what seemed like every limb. She rolled over on her back, sighing loudly, reluctantly waking up, her eyes fluttered open.

That's funny, she didn't remember being able to see dust bunnies under the bed, especially when she was lying on top of it.

She quickly sat up, massaging the tight bundle of nerves in the back of her neck. Spike lay sprawled out on the bed, covers half on him. Buffy took in the sight of him there, he looked dead, well he was dead, but he never really looked it until now. He was so still, so lifeless.His hair was matted to his forehead, giving him this bizarre look of innocence.

'The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.' Where had she heard that? Oh yeah, Xander and his movie quote game, she's been hanging out with him way too long. It did fit Spike in a way, a devil with boyish innocence when he sleeps.

Buffy frowned suddenly, realizing that Spike was occupying the bed and she was sitting on the floor with a giant cramp in her neck.

That bastard.

She climbed to her feet, stretching a bit, catching a glimpse of the digital clock on the nightstand.

12:35p.m.

She yawned, heading over to the curtains, flashed a smile, the evil smile in Spike's direction, and pulled the curtains open letting the sunshine in, and relished the sizzling sound and yelp of pain Spike made as he leapt out of the bed.

He cowered in the corner out of the direction of the sunlight. He'd awaken to the feeling of burning flesh and a grinning Slayer. She did this, and on purpose! That bitch.

"You bitch!"

She smiled, closing the curtains, ending his misery. Spike straightened himself up, his chest heaving. He glared at her through cold steely blue eyes, he wanted to kill her now more than ever. The thought of tearing her throat out gave him tingly butterfly feelings in his stomach.

"Wakie, wakie, Spike."

*******

Is it possible to become hypnotized by watching closes in a dryer? Buffy pondered this as she watched her one and only outfit go round and round. There's something entrancing about watching clothes in the dryer at a Laundromat, the way they move in that circle. A regular person with things to do and places to be wouldn't take the time to get lost in a thing like dryer watching, but Buffy had nothing to do or a place to be, so she let herself get absorbed in it.

She shok her head, breaking the trance, and looked down at herself, sighing loudly. She felt like shit, and was more than convinced she looked like it. She was still wearing Spike's ratty old T-shirt, and after much begging and threats of curtain opening, he lent her a pair of black jeans. At least that age-old question was answered; yes, Spike owned more than one set of the same clothes.

She could feel the sweat forming and whipped off her face with the shirt. The air conditioning was nearly non-existent and the fans only served to blow the hot air around the room.

The dryer stopped and Buffy retrieved clothes. Where's the other sock? She could have sworn she put two socks in there, another attack of the dryer gnomes Anya had told her about.

"Need some help there, sweetie?"

She hadn't even noticed that she wasn't alone any more, and as soon as she got a good look at him, she quickly wished she were. The man stood over by the washing machines, eyeing her, flashing a grin. He had a tan line on his shoulders from a tank top leaving his skin one part pasty, one part tan, and one part red and pealing. His big out-of date sunglasses hid his leering eyes, but she could tell they were leering, she shivered a little at that thought.

"Nope, I don't need any help. I think I can handle all of the rigorous folding all on my own." Buffy said, smiling politely. He was making his way towards her, lightly scratching his pasty belly. God, he's coming towards her, why was he coming towards her? Was she giving off some kind of mutant signals?

He wrapped one hand around the pole on the laundry basket, and shoved the other in his jean pocket, still leering at her from behind those glasses. His hair, he had one of those short on top, long feathery in the back type deals, what did Xander call them? Oh yeah, a mullet. Buffy remembered him telling her that it had took his dad until August of '97 to get rid of his.

"A pretty, delicate girl like you shouldn't be doing work like that. You should have a man like me to take care of it for you." He rattled off smoothly. Buffy gave him another polite smile.

"Awww, gee that's sweet of you." She deadpaned. "Honestly, I don't need any help." She folded her jeans and held them up for him to see. "See, all done."

"Yeah, so uh, you from outta town? I don't think I ever seen you 'round here before?"

Buffy nodded, gathering up her things. Just grab everything and get the hell out of here.

"Where ya from?"

"California." She stuffed her clothes into a laundry bag, tying it up.

"California! Really? That sounds exciting."

"Yep, the fun never stops." Got to get out of here.

"You know any movie stars?" He asked. Did she know any movie stars? What kind of question was that? Well, once back in LA she saw Kramer at a Starbucks, does that even count?

"Nope, can't say I do." Buffy grabbed the bag and made her way to the door, with the mullet following close behind.

"Wait, California-Girl, you got a name?"

"Anne, my name is Anne."

"I'm Randy, if you ever need anyone to show you around town, just look me up. I'm not hard to find."

"I'll keep that in mind, Randy, thanks." Buffy said, making a mad dash for the DeSoto. She had never been so glad to see Spike and his piece of shit car in all her life. She opened the passenger door, jumped in, and quickly slammed it.

Spike sat with his hands on the wheel, grinning from ear to ear, she noticed his window was slightly cracked, he had heard every word. Great, bring on the sarcasm.

"You move fast, Slayer, not even a day in this town and you've already got an admirer."

"Just shut up and drive." She grumbled, god she hated Spike, for a second she was tempted to break their no-violence rule and slam his face into the steering wheel. "The quicker we get back to the hotel, the quicker I can change. I'm sick of these clothes, they smell like you." Okay, lame, her comeback was lame and she knew it, but she was really having a hard time concentrating, the image of Randy's beer belly was clouding her mind.

Spike dramatically brought a hand to his chest, a look of mock hurt on his face. "Gosh, Buffy, you've hurt my feelings."

"Go to hell."

"You know, I must say that old Randy is a step up from Peaches. Good to see you finally putting your good taste in men to action." He grinned. He was loving this, her annoyance was coming off of her in waves. "I bet Angel and Randy would get along great. I could just see them, trading barbecue tips."

"Yeah, but Riley and Randy wouldn't." She smiled somewhat smugly.

Riley? Who the hell was Riley? "Who the hell's Riley?"

"My boyfriend." Buffy's smug smile stayed firmly in place. That should put a stop to all of the Angel cracks she knew he had lined up.

Spike chuckled a little, grabbing her attention. "What's so funny?"

"What kind of nancy-boy name is Riley?" He laughed, he was laughing, he thinks he's so god damn funny. The smugness returned to her face once more. "I don't know, William." Buffy said, sweet as ever.

Spike's laughter quickly stopped, his trademark scowling had returned.

*******

"Ha! I win!" Buffy slammed her cards down on the table. Spike eyed them carefully, looking at his hand and then back at hers.

"Are you daft woman? A pair of sixes and a pair of twos doesn't win the hand!"

"But it did the last time, remember, when you had it, and I had three kings and two tens."

"Well.yeah, but only in that case." He lied. "See, I have four of a kind, so I win again."

"Oh." Buffy pouted, leaning back in her chair. "Poker's stupid."

Spike smiled, gathering up the Oreo's they were using as chips. He was glad Buffy knew jack shit about poker, it made it much easier to cheat. She kept getting so flustered, with all her losing, the look on her face was another he'd never had the privilege of seeing, it was almost cute. Cute? Did he really just think that? What kind of ponce was he turning into?

"Okay, hit me." She said in her strong, confidant voice, making him smile again. She was always so sure of herself even when she had no clue what she was doing.

Spike pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one up, then dealt Buffy another card.

She smiled. "I'll raise you two double-stuffed Oreo's." pushing the cookies into the pile on the table. Spike could feel her staring again as he studied his cards.

"What?"

"Why do you smoke?"

"We playing twenty-questions again, luv?" He smiled, throwing another cookie into the pot.

"No, it's just.that's such a disgusting habit."

"Ever tried it?"

"No, unfortunately I have working lungs." She rolled her eyes. "Hit me again."

"Luv, you don't need another card."

"Just hit me." Spike sighed, giving her another card. "How do you know smoking's so disgusting if you've never tried it?"

"Well, when you sit through three years worth of D.A.R.E. classes, you tend to pick up on things."

Spike snorted, taking the cigarette out of his mouth, and held it out to her. "Here."

"What?"

"Try it."

"I'm not going to."

"One puff is not going to kill you, Slayer." Buffy hesitated before taking it out of his hand. She studied it closely, the way the blue-ish smoke wafted from the tip and into the air was beautiful, in a strange way.

"Well go ahead, don't just sit there letting my fag to waste." She scowled at him, he was so damn impatient. She brought the cigarette to her lips, taking in a big puff.

Shit!

She coughed and choked, her nose burned like hell, and Spike was laughing. Bastard.

"It takes some getting use to, pet." He took the cigarette from her, bringing it to his own mouth, taking a drag. There was the faintest taste of her lips still on it, sweet-tasting. Buffy was still coughing. Cute.

TBC..

Part 4:

If she had to spend one more second looking at him, she was going to scream. Buffy had been cooped up in this hotel room with Spike for ten hours straight.

One hour spent trying to gain the stomach to eat her bowl of Lucky Charms after watching him mix pig's blood in with his bacon and eggs.

Three hours of back to back soap operas: The Young and the Restless, Sunset Beach, then Passions. Fifteen minutes spent during Sunset Beach listening to his argument on why Ben should be with Maria instead of Meg. Thirty minutes of crying and a story about how Timmy not only reminded him of the creepy dolls Drusilla kept, but also of a 'little person' they'd killed back in '86.

Spike was now busy nursing the bottle of Jack Daniels he had hidden away in the drawer.

He was like a fucking liquor cabinet, a sad, pathetic, irritating as hell liquor cabinet, and Buffy couldn't take it any more. She found herself lightly pacing the small path from the sink area to the bathroom. Nervous energy is all it was, she was fidgety, she had nothing to do, why was there nothing to do in this fucking town?!

"Why even bother with a lie-detector test, you know the lying bitch is cheating! They all bloody cheat!" Spike screamed at the TV taking another swig of the alcohol.

That was it, something inside of her snapped, she had to shut him up. Buffy stopped her pacing, picked up the handy cup dispenser on the sink, and threw it at Spike, hitting him directly in the face.

He screamed, dropping the bottle, and grabbed his nose. "Bloody hell, woman!" Spike climbed to his feet, picked up the bottle of Jack, salvaging the rest, and stalked angrily towards her.

"I am so fucking sick of listening to you mope! Drusilla left you, tough shit, get over it! God, if you were this big of a whiney loser when you were together, then I see why she split. Probably couldn't get away fast enough!"

If Spike could glare any harder, he would have burned holes through Buffy's skull. He whipped his nose with the back of his hand, leaving bright red bloodstains across it. His hands formed into fists by his side, returning the favor, he sent a backhand across her face.

Buffy reeled from the hit for a second, before punching him in the nose.

********

They sat in front of the bed, legs sprawled out, fresh bruises and scars on their faces, and a half-empty bottle of Jack sitting between them.

"I could just tell, you know. He was more broody than usual."

"Really?" Buffy asked, picking up the bottle, taking a drink. "Is that possible?" They both broke into a drunken fit of laughter. Spike, chuckled a little more, whipping his eyes, taking the bottle away from her.

"Something was missing from old Peaches. I mean, even when you were together, he was still."

"Master of the brood?"

"Yeah." Spike smiled warmly at her, taking another drink. "But he had this spark, you know. You gave him that, and when I saw him in LA, it was gone, I knew you weren't apart of his life any more."

She smiled at him, not the evil smile, but an actual, genuine smile. It had to be the hard liquor, yeah, that's the reason why she was smiling in the non-evil capacity, and having sudden fluttery feelings in her stomach from his closeness. It was all the fault of Jack Daniels.

"Plus, Dru heard a couple of demons laughing about it over drinks."

"Oh." Buffy nodded. "And here I was ready to tell you how amazed I was at your percept-o guy abilities."

"Well, I could tell that you two were over before Dru told me."

"Uh huh, Buffy not amazed anymore." She giggled drunkenly, and Spike decided he liked her like this. Relaxed and not so tensed and business like, her pals must get to see this all the time, a sober variation of course. Her face was slightly flushed from the booze, and he suddenly found himself thinking of the sound, and cute little face she made when she first took a drink. Must've been her first foray with hard alcohol.

"Spike." Buffy said somewhat weakly. The feeling in her stomach had gone from fluttery to twisted in knots, and she felt the sudden rush of saliva, and tingly feeling in her mouth. She felt like she was going to.oh yeah, she was pretty sure she was about to.

She quickly climbed to her feet, making a mad dash to the bathroom.

Buffy retched loudly, expelling the poison from her body. A cool wave of air hit her, as she felt her hair being pulled out of her face, then came the painful dry-heaving, leaving the back of her throat burning. She breathed hard, and brought a shaky hand up to the flusher.

Spike let her hair go, smiling warmly as she straightened up. He grabbed some tissue and gently whipped the corners of her mouth. "Your okay, luv." He said, tucking strands of hair behind her ear.

Buffy studied his face carefully, the bruises on his cheek, his slightly swollen nose, and the look of concern in his eyes. That was a new one, she had never seen them so soft, so kind before. She had never noticed how blue they were.

She swallowed hard, trying to push away the lump that had formed in her throat. "I'm sorry I hit you." She said meekly.

Spike, smiled, not the cocky grin, but an actual smile. She liked his smile; he should do it more often. He slowly leaned in, and gently kissed her forehead.

"And I'm sorry I hit you too, luv."

TBC..

Part 5:

********

She stood in front of him, hands on her hips, blocking his view of the television. Since the night before, Spike found himself being able to tolerate the Slayer more and more, but not when her scrawny ass was obstructing his view of the X-Files.

"I'm going to give you five seconds to move." He drawled, trying to look around her.

"I'm bored."

"What else is bloody new."

Buffy sighed loudly. "I want to go out. There's got to be some place around here, a bar or something."

"What makes you think I would know?" Buffy pursed her lips, giving Spike a withering glance. "Oh, right." He said, smiling stupidly. "There is one bar, Slayer."

"Great! Get your undead ass up and let's go."

"But, I don't think I'm exactly welcome there anymore." Spike smiled, finally remembering what it was he had done to the big haired woman's drink. The familiar look on Buffy's face returned, the look of disgust. She rolled her eyes, grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet.

"Okay, one, never tell me, and two, I don't care, we'll take our chances."

********

The bar was crowded, a lot more so than it had been the first night Spike was here, he didn't think so many people actually lived in this town. Buffy held onto his wrist, guiding him through the sea of people, she found a table off to the side of the dance floor and they sat down.

Spike took in his surroundings, something he didn't have the mental capacity to do the first night he was here. The heavy smell of cigarettes, cheap beer, and deep fried chicken wings assaulted his nose, while bad country music blasted in his ears.

Buffy sat across from him, twiddling her thumbs. For the first time, she had no clue what to say to him. Suddenly, it felt like there had to be a conversation, and her insult meter was tapped dry. She watched his eyes dart around the bar, slightly darkening, settling into their trademark scowl.

"Something wrong?" She asked lamely, in hopes of starting some kind of dialog between them. "Oh, nothing, I just feel like these wankers are staring at me. Probably recognize me from the night before, looking to throw me out."

"Maybe." Buffy shrugged. "Or it could be the fact that you're wearing a big leather duster in the middle of May, in Texas." She added smiling.

There was that smile again, the genuine one he didn't do very often. The twinkle flashing in his eyes was having strange affects on her, causing fluttery butterfly feelings in her stomach meant only for Riley.Riley! She had all but forgotten about him.

"So." She began, desperately searching for a topic, why was this so fucking hard all of a sudden? It's just Spike, she's never at a loss for words with Spike. Her voice trailed off as her eyes fell upon the dance floor.

"Do you dance?" Okay, lame but it was better than uncomfortable silence.

"Sorry, pet, but the two-step is not exactly my thing."

"I wasn't asking if you wanted to.I just.didn't want to go out there by myself." This was still hard, why was this so hard? She could feel herself starting to sweat.

Spike grinned, the sarcastic grin, making him his less than pleasant self again. "You line dance?" He asked, barely stifling a laugh, and suddenly Buffy's sweaty, butterfly feelings were replaced with the more familiar urge to hit him.

"I'm not a Dixie Chick or anything, but I've done it before. Mom went through this country phase back in the 90's and kinda dragged me with her."

He was still smirking at her, Buffy's hands had curled into fists by her side, she really wanted to hit him.

"By all means, Slayer, don't let me stop your desire to kick up your heels." Spike smiled, pointing towards the dance floor. Buffy shot him daggers as she stood, and once again he had to stifle a laugh. She seemed beyond terrified to go out there by herself, the look on her face had been pure gold. It was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. Adorable? He needed a drink.

"Give me a rum and coke, and a basket of those little chicken wings." The waitress nodded, taking Spike's order, then headed off towards the kitchen. He sat there, impatiently picking at the cracking nail polish on his fingers, he hated waiting, especially for chicken wings. He shot a quick glance at the dance floor, then back to his nails, and just as quick back to the dance floor.

Something caught in his chest, his breath, no he didn't have any, but if he did.

She was mesmerizing, the way she moved perfectly with the others. He never considered line dancing to be sexy, but Buffy was quickly changing his mind. The smile that lit up her face was another he'd never seen, she's actually having fun. No demons, or vampires, apocalypses, and insults. No Slayer, Just Buffy, and she was bloody amazing.

He hadn't even noticed that the waitress had brought his order, until he put his elbow into the basket of chicken wings. "Bloody hell!" He mumbled, reaching for napkins to clean the hot sauce off of his duster.

*******

"No, Slayer, you've got it all wrong! Theresa's a dreamer, you don't see that?!"

"I like Theresa, I want her and Ethan to get together, but I just don't think she's playing with a full deck." Buffy said, tapping the side of her head.

The Vampire and Slayer walked along the near empty streets of the downtown. It was three in the morning when the pair had left the bar, and they now made their way back to the motel in no particular hurry. Spike stopped suddenly, a strange look forming on his face.

"What? Why'd you stop?"

"You do realize what's going on here, don't you?"

She shrugged. "Nope."

"We're having an actual conversation. I think they should mark this moment in the history books."

"Big deal, Spike. We had a whole conversation last night." Buffy sighed. "After the pummeling and the drinking."

"That doesn't count, I was drunk. I'll sit and talk to a fucking wall when I'm drunk."

"Gee, thanks." She said, rolling her eyes.

"But this.this is actual talking. Maybe we should take a moment and digest this." Buffy stood, staring at him as if he'd grown another head and it was speaking French to her. Very strange vampire.

"You're very strange." She turned on her heels, continuing towards the motel. Spike followed her, running up by her side, falling in step with her.

The early morning sky began to flash with streaks of lightening, the sound of thunder rolling closely behind. Spike turned his gaze towards the sky, smirking. "Storm's a brewin'." He said in a mock country accent. As if on cue, the storm clouds opened up, drenching the tiny town in rain, and sending Buffy and Spike running full speed.

******

He slammed the room door behind them, effectively shutting out the rain. The two stood dripping wet, groaning in protest over the sudden thunderstorm. Buffy examined herself in the mirror, frowning slightly. Her hair, wet and matted, and her one, lonely outfit completely drenched, she looked like a drowned rat, a drowned rat who was going to have to do laundry again tomorrow.

"Looks like another trip back to the Laundromat."

"I wonder if Randy will be around to give you helping hand."

"Have I told you how funny you're not?" She sighed once more, running a hand through her long, wet hair, such a great time to be without her bare essentials, hair dryer.extra clothes.makeup.extra clothes. She felt another sigh coming on as she braced herself yet again to ask to borrow a nice, dry shirt from her 'roomie'.

"Spike." She began turning to face him, her breath catching in her chest as another massive wave of butterfly feelings hit her, what was it with that tonight? She was saying something, what the hell was it, she couldn't remember, she wasn't even sure if she was breathing.

Spike stood with his back turned to her, pulling the slightly dampened shirt over his head. Her eyes of their own volition, traced the lines of the muscles in his back, the sculpted shoulders and arms, well-chiseled, lean, like a statue in her art history class, like he was cut from marble.

His skin a smooth alabaster, a perfect creamy color, she wanted to run her fingers across it, light, feathery touches, to perfect to be rough, just wanted to feel.god, what was she thinking?! Evil Buffy, must push away the evil, nasty thoughts.

"Did you say something, Slayer?" Spike asked, turning to face her. Buffy could feel all the air going out of the room, she was sweating now, at least she was sure she was sweating, maybe it's just the rain. Her traitor eyes were now roaming the front of him, the pecks, the six-pack, so perfect, not overly bulgy, incredibly manly. He was looking at her strangely now, maybe he could read her thoughts, or maybe he's just waiting for an answer.she did say something, she just couldn't remember what. Dammit.

Spike waved his hands, trying to get her attention in the way a child would. "Slayer, yoo-hoo!"

"Huh?" Buffy said, shaking off the trance. Still couldn't remember what she had wanted to say to him, the trickle of water that fell from the tosseled, curly mop on his head, and down the front of his chest, had momentarily blinded her, she was slipping back into the trance.

"Did you say something? I heard you call me."

"Oh, um.yeah." What was she going to say, she couldn't remember to save her life. Buffy shivered a little, tugging at her wet shirt, oh yeah, that's right.

"Uh, I'm gonna need a shirt, this one's kinda done for." She folded her arms over her chest, feeling herself becoming increasingly cold. Spike smiled at her, nodding, and grabbed a black T-shirt for her to wear, suddenly Buffy found herself wondering just how many of those damn things he owned. She walked over to him, arms still folded across her chest, albeit a little selfconsciencely now. She gave him a shy smile, reaching out for the shirt, great, now she was shy.

"Thanks." She sniffed, boy it was really starting to get cold in here. "I just want to get into something a little on the dry side, I must look like a drowned rat."

Fingers lightly grazed each other as she reached for the shirt, sending a white-hot bolt of electricity through her body. She didn't just feel that did she? Did he feel that? Her mouth was going dry, and a painful lump had formed in her throat. Of course Spike didn't feel that because she didn't feel it, it didn't happen, total figment of the imagination. Why was he looking at her like that?

Spike's lips were on hers before she had time to worry herself with that question, they fumbled awkwardly, total abject fear regeristing in both. He pulled away, if possible, looking more pale than he had been before, his face, equally marred with confusion, well, at least she wasn't alone in the feeling.

"What?" Buffy asked. 'What?' She just kissed Spike for god sake and the only thing she can say is 'what?', she felt stupid beyond belief. Spike's expression was blank, he gave a small shrug of his shoulders, leaning in again.

"Nothing." He whispered, capturing her lips. This kiss, softer, less awkward, their lips, gently sweeping over each other's, the untapped passion in it, slightly rising. He pulled her closer, making her shiver from the cold and his closeness. Fingers roamed his back, eliciting a low moan from both, the tip of his cool tongue pressed against her lips, and she parted them, letting it slip in. His taste was a mixture of blood, cigarettes, the slightest hint of rum, and something different, unplaceable, sweet almost, it had to be rain.

Buffy broke the kiss, breathless, her eyes locked with his. She sniffed nervously, she had crossed a line, no.she had run full speed, hit a ramp, and leapt over that line, and she didn't particularly care. Spike was staring at her blankly, he's probably wondering the same thing she was, 'what now?! Do we stop?' As if they had minds of their own, Buffy's fingers grasped the bottom of her wet shirt, and pulled it over her head, tossing it to the floor.

Her mouth went dry once again as Spike's lips descended on her neck. She let herself get swept up in the feel of things, willing away the annoying nagging part of her brain that was screaming at her to stop this. The feel of his lips on her neck, sucking, nipping, and licking at her skin, the feel of his hands, fingers grazing across her stomach, circling her navel, lightly brushing upwards over her breasts, moving around back to unclasp her bra.

All conscienceness slipping when his lips made their way to her breasts, taking one rosy nipple between his teeth, suckling, teasing it with his tongue, kneading the neglected mound with his free hand.

They were still standing, why were they still standing?! Buffy's mind and voice returned momentarily, only to scream.

"Bed, now!"

********

Jeans flew down to the floor in a crumpled heap with the rest of their discarded clothing. Spike smiled at Buffy's completely natural, wide-eyed reaction to his lack of underwear, he planted a quick kiss on her lips, taking a moment to relish how beautiful she looked beneath him. Her hair, tosseled and still wet, her lips, full, the look of being thoroughly kissed, and her eyes full of need.

Spike slid down her body, trailing kisses, stopping once he reached her panties, in one swift motion, the cotton barrier was removed, her heat now radiating towards him. He pulled her closer, placing a ridiculously chaste kiss on her quim, inciting a deliciously feminine response from her as he slid his tongue inside. He slowly withdrew it, curling it around her clit, teasing the swollen nubbin before diving back in. Buffy began to thrash beneath his mouth, her breathing becoming more ragged. He knew she was close, as he slid a finger inside of her, slowly stroking her feminine walls. The pressure built around his digit as her inner clamped down on it, Buffy cried out as she came, slamming her thighs shut, trapping him there. Spike took full advantage, lapping up the sweet juices that pooled between her legs.

She panted harshly trying to regain her breath, her body still basking in the glow of her orgasm. Her legs relaxed, allowing him to slip out. Buffy smiled up at him, as he rolled his body over hers, bringing her into a searing kiss. She could taste herself on him, the very thought sent shivers down her body, it was the most erotic thing she'd ever experienced.

Spike settled himself between her legs and entertwined his fingers with hers. A look of confusion formed on her face.

"Something wrong, luv?"

"Shouldn't I.I mean, um." Buffy stammered nervously, her inner prude choosing this time of all to rear its ugly head. "Return the favor?" She could feel her face growing hot, she was blushing, god, he probably was going to laugh his ass off at her now.

Spike smiled, leaned down, and gently kissed her forehead. "Next time." He whispered as he slid within her slick channel. He moved ever so slowly, kissing her languidly before releasing her hands, allowing them to do their own exploring. Her fingers trailed the planes of his arms, grazed across his chest, causing a growl to rumble from within him. Her palms flattened against his back, skimming the surface, his skin was as smooth as she had imagined it, like he had been cut from marble.

The pace increased, rasps of harsh breaths filled the room. Spike dipped a hand between them, capturing her swollen bundle of nerves, fingering it lightly. Her inner walls tightened around his shaft as she came again, calling his name. Spike growled loudly as he slammed into her, his cold seed spurting forth.

He draped over her, boneless, both panting. Buffy brought a hand up to his face, running the tips of her fingers across it lightly. She smiled, sighing happily, and pulled him down into a kiss.

TBC.

Part 6:

********

Oh, God.

The words raced through her head as she felt his arm drape lazily across her waist. She had fallen asleep after the fifth time of 'returning the favor', her mind still clouded with post-orgasmic bliss, and the remnants of the night's spell that had caused all of this to happen so quickly. But Buffy was awake now, wide-awake, and the weight of what she had done hit her full on.

She had betrayed Giles and her friends, by sleeping with an evil soulless thing that's tried to kill them all numerous times, her calling, and oh God, Riley! Sweet, lovable, Teutonic Riley, who was sitting back home worrying about his girlfriend and her 'dying aunt' in Cleveland. Wholesome, dependable Riley, who loved her so much already, and her first time away from him, she cheats.

Buffy's stomach was in knots, she felt very much like vomiting, oh yeah, she was going to vomit. She could feel him stirring beside her, he was waking up, and she's stuck here in this bed with Spike's arm around her, tremendous guilt, and a vomit taste in her mouth.

Spike's hand moved to her arm, his fingers tracing lightly over her bare skin. Buffy drew in a sharp breath, mentally kicking herself for her body's reaction to his fingers.

"Are you awake, luv?" He said softly, the sound of his voice sent tingles down her spine. Dammit! She was going to have to stop doing that, supposed to be feeling guilty, a complete font of guilt.

"Mmm-hmm." She answered meekly. "Do you wanna watch some telly?" His voice wavered a bit, as if he were nervous. Spike nervous? The thought made her smile.

"No." She sighed.

Silence.

The most uncomfortable silence ever. She could feel the sweat breaking out on her forehead, and her heart began to race. If he didn't say something soon, she was going to explode.

"Twenty questions?"

Buffy relaxed into him, smiling a little.

"Okay." Anything to break the silence.

"Favorite book?" Spike asked, running his fingers up and down her arm.

"Catcher in the Rye."

"Really?" He asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "Wasn't expecting that."

"What were you expecting?"

"Something with 'Baby Sitters Club' in the title."

Buffy playfully elbowed him. "Next question, smart ass."

"Favorite food?"

"These questions are pretty lame." She teased, relaxing a little more, the game was actually taking some of the tension off.

"Well." He began, placing a kiss on her shoulder. "You've already answered all of my dirty ones."

"I'm a sucker for Chinese, MSG and all." Buffy said, shuddering inwardly, his last statement had sent her guilt barreling back.

"Favorite movie?"

"You're gonna laugh, it's kinda sappy."

He shrugged, lightly kissing her again.

"Roman Holiday."

"There's nothing sappy about that, it's a great movie."

"You think so?"

"Oh yeah, can't go wrong with Audrey Hepburn. I just hated the ending."

"Why?"

"Because, you spend all that time watching them fall in love and then they don't end up together. It's like the whole thing was a bleeding waste of time, what's the point if he's just gonna walk away from her."

"They were from two different worlds, a princess and a reporter, it wouldn't have worked. They had to walk away."

"You don't know that."

"Anymore lame questions, Spike?" She smiled. "Nope, fresh out of lame questions, pet."

"I got one for you."

"Ask away."

"What's your favorite poem?" She asked, turning over on her back, smiling at him, the evil smile. "Come on, it can't be that bad."

He sighed loudly and brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear, moving his lips closer to it.

"She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies;"

He whispered huskily, slowly trailing his index finger down her neck. Buffy reacted instinctively to his words and touch, her breathing becoming heavy, and the increasing need growing between her legs.

"And all that's best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes:"

His finger brushed across her nipple, teasing it, causing the peak to pebble under his touch.

"Thus mellowed to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies."

She quivered once his hand reached her mound, allowing him to coax her thighs open. He smiled as he parted her slick folds, massaging them, loving how wet she was for him.

"One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impaired the nameless grace, which waves in every raven tress,"

Buffy gasped as he slid a finger inside.

"Or softly lightens over her face; where thoughts serenely sweet express how pure, how dear their dwelling place."

Her hips moved in perfect time with the digit, her breath becoming ragged.

"And on that cheek, and over that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent."

Spike shut his eyes as he slipped another finger inside her, he wanted to keep his own need under control, to draw this out for as long as possible.

"The smile that win, the tints that glow, but tell of days in goodness spent,"

Her inner walls tightened around him, as he used his thumb to rub her clit.

"A mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent."

Buffy cried out as she came, thrashing under his hand. He slowly removed his fingers from her, bringing them into his mouth, licking them clean, savoring the taste of her.

"Any more questions?" He asked, smiling down at her.

Epilogue:

********

He awoke feeling cold, not that temperature affected him one way or another, but for some reason Spike had a persistent chill running down his spine. He'd mixed in the remainder of pig's blood with his bowl of Frosted Flakes, wincing at the taste.

He hated pigs blood, he'd be glad when she was gone, he could start feeding again, and give-up the butcher store crap.

Spike took another bite of the cereal, looking around the empty hotel room.

Oh yeah, he remembered, he *could* start feeding again.

He sighed loudly, slumping down in the chair as the familiar chill hit him once again.

******

Buffy let her head fall against the window, exhausted. She'd been on the road for hours and hadn't managed to get one drop of sleep, and the cramped feeling she had on her previous bus ride was back in full force.

She sighed loudly, pulling at her T-shirt. She never exactly made it to the Laundromat, and after finally getting out of bed, she slipped into the dry clothes Spike had gotten for her.

She only wore the clothes now because hers were still damp, yep, that was the reason, nothing more.

Buffy shut her eyes and attempted to will away the chill that was shooting down her spine.



The End.