Ch. 13: Approaching Normalcy

Eventually, Buffy got used to the bustling pace of New York City, with people flying by in their heels and suits, talking to cell phones more than people. She got used to living with Cordy in her apartment, with skeezy guys leaving messages under the pretense of job offers and no one leaving messages for her except for the occasional call from Dawn. And she got used to seeing Spike every day--his picture, that is. Her editor had been incredibly impressed with her beach photo shoot of Spike. Buffy had been tempted to leave it out, in her desire to bury those days in the bottom trunk of her brain's basement, but the shots had been too good to leave out--and it would have made her portfolio unacceptably short. So when her editor had asked for copies of certain photos, she complied. This gift, however, soon became the wall montage of her editor's office. Five prints of Spike's body and soulful eyes and sexy grin--all in a row--greeted her every time she walked into the office. But even that became a daily routine, and she barely noticed him anymore. Barely.

Buffy looked up at the clock--9:25 pm. This past week she'd been working crazy hours due to the unexpected firing of the assistant copy editor, among others. She didn't know the reasons or the story behind it; what she did know was that, as the newbie and as the English minor, she was stuck doing double duty. Though the work wasn't difficult and she was getting paid extra, she couldn't deny the soreness in her neck from being in front of the computer for hours, nor could she deny the soreness in her butt from sitting in the same chair for hours. Just one more article to proofread and submit, and then she'd be done.

Blinking hard to refocus her eyes on the screen, she returned to the writing. This article was highlighting some of the massage parlors in the area, which ones were worthy splurges, which ones were good deals, and which ones were not worth noticing. She groaned, wishing she could experience a massage that would work out all the kinks in her neck.

Her proofreading began earnestly enough, with Buffy's inner grammar Nazi kicking in to add the necessary comma and semicolon, but her thoughts began to take a different bent when she reached the second paragraph. Lately, now that she'd been starting to develop a routine that was almost comfortable, she'd been finding herself thinking about Spike. Perhaps it was just time, that enough months had elapsed that she could think about him without too much pain. Perhaps it was those photos in her boss's office, finally wearing down her defenses and affecting her the way she knew they would eventually. Regardless of the cause, her thoughts wandered to that part of her brain once more, recalling more about him than she wanted to admit.

Buffy remembered the day she'd taken pictures of him in the water. They'd kissed and touched and moaned and sighed in each other's arms, the water lapping around them. Then they'd returned to the sandy shore, and the sun drank up the water from their skin. She'd sat on the blanket, gathering her things, and he'd sat behind her. His hands had skittered over her shoulders and arms and neck, adding warmth to the heat of the sun. His warm fingers had gently kneaded her skin, rubbing and softening her tense muscles.

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, convincing herself that it was merely to rest her eyes from the glare of the computer screen. A few moments later, her memories merged with fantasies and sucked her in.

Her shoulders began to sag under his ministrations, her head lolling forward as her body yielded to his every touch. She felt him direct her towards the blanket, and she easily submitted, crawling onto her stomach. He continued his massage down her body, working the flesh of her lower back and above her ass. She moaned softly when he began to kiss her skin with each stroke of his hand. Their bathing suits somehow disappeared, and she could feel his strong thighs around her, pressing her tight. His hands stroked the sides of her breasts, and her pussy ached as his body slowly slid down hers. His fingers touched her sex, jolting her with burning electricity. Even as he touched and kissed and licked, his massage never stopped, creating contrasting sensations of loosened sinews and tightened muscles. And finally she felt his cock, rubbing against her ass deliciously. She spread her legs apart, wanting to feel his head against her wetness.

"Spike," she breathed, arching her hips to let him in.

"Buffy," he moaned, pressing his cock forward to graze her buzzing clit.

"Now," she cried out, pushing herself against his flesh.

"Buffy?" A hand shook her, breaking her dream and leaving her unsatisfied. "Buffy, wake up."

Squeezing her eyes and her pussy, Buffy looked up slowly to see Knox, the layout editor. "Oh, hey there."

"You okay? You fell asleep at the screen. I thought I was the only one who did that," he said lightly. "You should get out of here. It's getting kind of late."

"Yeah, but I just have to finish this one last article," she explained, stifling a yawn.

"Understandable. Do you have a lot left?" he asked peeking at her screen.

Buffy cracked her neck and straightened her posture. "No, just two more paragraphs. I'll be done in no time."

Knox put down his bag and said, "Do you want me to wait for you? I could walk you to the subway or wherever you're going."

"No, don't worry about it. Go on home. I'll turn the lights out and everything."

"Are you sure?" he asked, still holding the strap of his bag.

"Positive. I'll see you tomorrow morning." She pushed him slightly, as if to get him moving, and smiled brightly. When he finally left, she rubbed her temples and emitted a long sigh. Quickly whizzing through the text, she saved, closed, and left the building.

***

"Okay, guys, this is the last day of deadline week. Yes, I know some of you might be thinking that it's been deadline month, with the loss of some people, but this is the real crunch time. I truly appreciate the extra work some of you have been putting in, and you will be compensated according to..."

Anya's voice began to fade out as Buffy studied the photos of Spike on her wall behind Anya's desk. That one, when he'd come out of the water and walked towards the shore--that one was the precursor to the one she'd omitted from the collection, the one where he'd looked at her with such unadulterated lust that she became wet just thinking about it. That look of hunger and passion and lust, deepened by love and pleasure and delight--it'd been a while since she'd seen that look on anyone, if anyone at all captured it the way he did. It made her blood sing through her veins, her heart beat erratically with cravings, and it made her want to sink her teeth into him. She wanted to kiss him till he was breathless, touch him till he moaned with that sexy low voice of his, rub her body against those hard muscles, ride him till he was--

"Buffy? Meeting's over. I know you've been working some late nights, but that doesn't excuse you from listening to my inspirational speech," Anya stated bluntly. "Now go do your work."

Flustered by being caught in the midst of a very wet scenario, Buffy quickly grabbed her things and went back to her cubicle.

"Oh, god," she whimpered, trying to erase the images from her mind.

"What's wrong?"

Buffy looked up to see Willow, the co-worker at the next desk, peeking over the cubicle walls. "Nothing, nothing. Just having some difficulty concentrating." She smiled and tried to gather herself together.

"Late night again? I think I'm going to be here late tonight as well, so at least we'll have company. Maybe we can grab a drink or something afterwards. Might give us something to look forward to after this hell week," Willow suggested with a smile.

"Yeah, that might be nice. Who knows? Maybe we'll finish early," Buffy added. She and Willow had been slowly becoming friends, both being new to the city. The redhead was fun to hang out with and seemed to be free of all the biting New York wit that seemed to be wearing her down.

"Unlikely, but it's a nice thought. Back to the salt mines," Willow grumbled, disappearing from view.

Buffy hoped that having real company would keep her from daydreaming too much. Directing her attention back to her work, she tried to forget the sexy Spike scenes.

Hours passed, the sun set, and still Buffy was working. Magazine work demanded completion, and Buffy was struggling to stay on top of things.

On top of things...the innocent phrase that normally drove her to perfection was currently driving her crazy. Buffy on top of Spike, Spike on top of Buffy, both on top of a blanket on a beach, on top of a car hood at night, on top of the kitchen counter...

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. Focus, she commanded herself, again trying to squeeze the thoughts out of her mind. Two more proofs and then we can go have a drink. With that motivation in mind, she threw herself back into her work, determined to come out on top.

On top. Oh, fuck...

***

"Well, at least we can say we finished our part. We'll probably get more next week, but tonight, right now, we're done. So here's to finishing," Willow declared, raising her martini.

"Here's to finishing," Buffy agreed. They clinked glasses and then drank with the satisfaction that they'd done a good job.

"So, you seem more distracted these days. Anything going on?" Willow asked, playing with her olive.

"No, yes, I don't know. Is it something going on? In reality? No," Buffy confided, snacking on peanuts. "It's just an old fling, someone I haven't thought about in a while." That sounded innocuous enough.

Willow nodded in understanding. "The job certainly takes up time, doesn't it? I can't remember the last time I had a date, and it certainly wasn't someone I met here in the city." She finished up her martini and signaled to the bartender for another one.

"Yeah, this was someone back in California. Actually, you've probably seen him, the one posted up in Anya's office?" Buffy shrugged as she downed her drink and then asked for another.

"That was your man? I thought he was just a model," Willow commented, the awe apparent on her face.

"Well, he was a model, but he was sort of a boyfriend, but then there was extreme baggage, and then there was badness, and then I left. I never saw him after that," Buffy finished, a note of sadness in her voice.

"Was it that bad? You seem like you really liked him, just from the sound of your voice," Willow noted.

"I did." She sighed, popping more nuts in her mouth. "I did, but I couldn't deal with this thing in his past. I couldn't, and then I went home, and then my mom died, and now I'm here." Her summary neatly compacted her emotions into digest form, and it only made her sadder.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was it sudden? Your mom's death, I mean."

"Yeah, it was. I mean, I knew she was going to die, so we were able to have a goodbye, but it was still hard." She sipped her drink slowly. "But I'm not trying to be a downer. We're celebrating!" she exclaimed, a little too brightly.

"Yes, we are. Let's leave the past behind us and trudge on to the future." They clinked again,

Willow paused thoughtfully, considering where the conversation should head. She decided to go with the less personal hottie road rather than the more personal mother road. Swallowing more of her drink, she asked, "So why the long face? He may be a fling of the past, which is fine, but that doesn’t mean he can't go into your spank bank, so to speak."

Buffy shrugged, playing with her maraschino cherry. "True, I suppose. I guess I'm not used to being so plagued by fantasies."

"Well, when's the last time you got some?"

Buffy gave Willow a look, grabbed the cherry with her tongue, and then took a quick shot of her drink.

"That long?" Willow concluded, grinning at her antics. "Well, maybe you're just suppressing your emotions too much. Don't make him out to be taboo; imagine every single possible position whenever you feel like it. If you don't treat him as off-limits, maybe you won't fantasize about him so much, you know? Sometimes we just like the unattainable."

"You know, that makes a lot of sense. I totally beat myself up whenever I think about him. Maybe that's why I think about him so much." In her slightly inebriated state of mind, Willow's logic made perfect sense.

"Great! So we've figured out the solution to your problem: think of this hottie whenever you touch yourself. Now, how about my problem? I don't even have a guy to fantasize about. What are we going to do about that?" Willow cried out, the alcohol starting to make her voice high-pitched and whiny.

Buffy laughed as Willow began listing all the items on her Willow-friendly list for eligible men. It was close to sunrise when they finally said their goodnights, pleasantly drunk and surprisingly satisfied with their lives.

***

Staying faithful to Willow's advice, Buffy stopped quelling the tendency to imagine Spike pleasuring her; in fact, she capitalized on the memories she did have and made them more, keeping her as satisfied as being alone could be. With the end of the weekend drawing near, Buffy was attempting to release the inevitable Sunday night tension before the work week. Currently she was replaying fantasy #12: on the bike.

He leans back on his bike sexily, clad in leather and his pimp necklace--can't forget the necklace. The sun is beating down on him, making his hair glint with diamonds. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, she think as she draws near to him, her short miniskirt swinging in the wind. There's this look on his face, this 'I want to eat you up and lick my fingers when you scream' face, this 'you'll never want to let go of this ride, baby' face. He doesn't have to say a word; he just looks, and she gets wet. She bites her lip, almost knocked over by her arousal, and stands before him, waiting. He slowly unzips his pants to reveal his fascinating cock, hard with desire for her. For her. He continues to watch her, his gaze unclothing her, and she finds herself completely nude, the sun her only garment. There's a sense of excitement, her naked body and his clothed one, save for the glistening cock beckoning her. He lifts her up, his strength making her shiver, and then her mind explodes. He eases her down, her insides burning with every inch, until he's completely sheathed and pressing against her most intimate parts. She throws her hair back as he devours her breasts, sucking and lightly biting and making her animalistic ferocity emerge. She roars as he pounds into her pussy, breasts bouncing and body writhing. So hard, so tight, so wild--she clenches his leather while he snarls into her neck, her skin red with love bites and lust scratches, some self-inflicted. She's so close, her cunt tightening around his cock, when he reaches forward and guns the engine, ripping vibrations through her sweaty body. She howls with wanton pleasure, and he growls with orgasmic ecstasy. He strengthens his grip on her body, flesh against leather, until she falls.

Buffy's clit throbbed in post-orgasmic bliss, and she stretched out lazily, letting the sensations race over her tired body. She purred deliciously and then fell asleep, resting in preparation for the busy week.

Ch. 14: Doors Opening

Though Willow's advice to embrace her fantasies had certainly given her an excuse to dream till her palms rivaled King Kong's, it wasn't abating her lust in any way. In fact, her desires were merely expanding into other areas of her life. Tired of recycling the short moments she'd spent with Spike, Buffy's vivid imagination began creating elaborate situations from the Xerox machine in her office to the little park bench outside her apartment building to the large rock in the middle of Central Park. For someone who hadn't had sex in months, her brain certainly had no trouble remembering various positions and techniques to keep her pleasured and satisfied.

Work was finally beginning to slow down, and she was starting to leave the building at decent hours--sometimes even before 7 pm. On those early nights, she and Willow sometimes went to Happy Hour, sometimes caught a movie, sometimes just went home. She was seeing Cordelia less and less; her roommate was finally getting acting gigs, which meant late rehearsals and weird hours. She missed her friend but was happy for her success. Today had been a long day at the office in front of the computer, and now Buffy was ready to soak in the tub, read a cheesy romance novel, and let Calgon take her away. Packing up her things, she walked tiredly towards the elevator and began her trek home.

When she approached her apartment door, Buffy noticed a plainly wrapped package she had been expecting sitting innocently on her welcome mat. Feigning nonchalance, she picked up the package and quickly went inside, her nervousness only betrayed by the faint flush on her face.

The apartment was empty, as usual, and Buffy knew that Cordy was not going to be home till late. She placed the package by her nightstand and undressed, wanting to take a long bath. Trying not to look at the package, she filled her bath, let the water soothe her work-weary body, and allowed her mind to wander around her library of fantasies. When she finally emerged from her bath, she felt sufficiently relaxed to open her package.

Seated on her bed, hair still damp from her bath and body only clad in a short terry robe, Buffy opened the parcel. She first took out a large, thick, pink dildo complete with dual-speed vibration, rotating head, and rolling pearls for g-spot stimulation. Then there was the interactive dvd with scenarios where the viewer could choose the situation and the reaction of the characters involved. And then there was the Nipple and Clit Sucker, which would work her top while she worked her bottom. It was a treasure chest of sensual delights. And still the blush would not leave her face.

It was silly, really, that she was getting so worked up over these things. It wasn't like she'd never touched herself or had never watched porn. The thing is, she'd been getting so hot and horny lately that the fingers simply weren't enough anymore. She wanted a cock in her, wanted to feel something touch her, but she was not so desperate that she'd pick up a random guy and fling with him. No, she was still a little old-fashioned in that sense. Her solution: discreet, on-line shopping.

Quickly, she disposed of all the packaging with busty women biting their lips in pleasure, put in the appropriate batteries, and turned off the light. She didn't need the DVD tonight; she knew which fantasy she wanted to visit.

Ding. The elevator arrives, and Buffy enters the empty car. The doors quickly close behind her, and she turns to watch the numbers light up with each descending floor. 12th floor, and the doors open. He walks in, all blond and sexy, and he cocks an eyebrow as he notices that she is alone. The doors close, and he is immediately on her, his lips bruising her with passion and his hands searching for her wetness. They press their bodies against the railing, and she lifts her legs to wrap around his waist and avoid the way the railing cuts into her back. He moans in response and pushes against her, wanting to be closer. Ding. 8th floor. He quickly lets her go and pushes her forward a little, wanting her to hide his excited state. She breathes in and starts playing with her nails, barely acknowledging the stodgy man who enters their car. The car begins to move again, and Spike surreptitiously slides his hand down her skirt to play with her ass while she bites her lip, playing with her nails. The business man is simply reading the newspaper, waiting for the 2nd floor to light up. Ding. 2nd floor. He leaves the car, and the two are left alone again. The moment the door closes he palms her cheeks and bends her over. With his hands undoing his belt and pants, he lifts up his foot to punch at the red emergency button. The car jolts to a stop, and the sounds of heavy breathing and moaning make the air heavy with desire. She holds onto the rail in front of her while her hair falls forward, her ass pushing back against his cock. Pulling her thong away, he thrusts into her. She cries out in pleasure as he begins to fuck her from behind, his large cock sliding easily into her wet pussy. His strong hands capture her hips and control her movements, the consistent rhythm of his thrusting quickly making her fire rage higher and higher. And then before she can fly over the edge, he spins her around, picks up her body, and pushes her against the car wall. The elevator groans with their bouncing movements, as if cheering them on. She instinctively wraps her legs around him, and he finds her nipples with his tongue, sucking the sexy whimpers out of her. One hand is gripping her tightly around the waist, and another finds that pulsing button underneath her skirt. Circling that tight bud of flesh, his fingers dance in tandem with his tongue, and she swirls in ecstasy. Such eddying movements coupled with his hard thrusting quickly shoot her into the air, and she screams in pleasure, her pussy tightening around his cock and willing him to join her. He groans with satisfaction as he fills her completely, gripping her body so that their unity is consummate. Slowly, her legs hit the ground, and their lips touch, finishing their animalistic coupling with human tenderness. Their tongues dance, and their bodies rejoice in each other's warmth. Hair is smoothed, clothes are straightened, and the car jolts back to life. The doors open, and the two calmly enter the lobby, hand in hand.

Buffy's breathing finally returned to normal, her voice a little hoarse from her orgasmic moans, and eventually she found the strength to pull the dildo from between her legs. Her toys had done good, but still she ached for a real man. When she closed her eyes, she dreamt of blue eyes looking at her with affection and love.

***

Another day of work passed, and Buffy slowly made her way towards the elevator. She'd decided not to go out with Willow, preferring to spend some time alone. Why, she wasn't sure, but she simply didn't have the desire to spend another night out at a bar where drinks and cigarette smoke seemed to be her only male companions.

The doors dinged and opened. She entered and then leaned back on the rail, her mind filling with images of last night's incredibly arousing and satisfying fantasy. Being in the place of her fantasy made her glazed with desire, thinking about how the elevator would bounce with their fucking and how the security guards might get an eyeful. She was so enthralled by her own lust-filled thoughts that she didn't realize the opening doors were not yet at her floor. Assuming the car had reached the lobby, she automatically moved towards the doors.

And ran smack into Spike's chest.

The two stared at each other, both in shock and in confusion. Buffy had to blink several times before she could separate reality from fantasy--that Spike was, in fact, standing in front of her.

Spike, who had entered the car without even looking, was completely flabbergasted. He'd just been thinking of her, wondered what the chances were of running into her--when she'd run right into him. There she was, staring up at him with those wonderfully large eyes--when the doors began to close on them. Jerked out of his trance, he quickly stuck out his arm to keep the doors from closing on their relationship once more, and he stepped into the car. The doors closed behind him and headed down again. And still, the two said nothing.

And the doors opened into the lobby, opened and closed, and still the two said nothing. But when the two realized that they were simply staring at each other inside the unmoving car, they each finally awoke, blushed, and both reached for the open door button at the same time. Their fingers collided clumsily, and when the lobby finally appeared before them, they both rushed out, eager to breathe normally again. They took two steps, and Spike reached out and tentatively touched her arm. Buffy looked up at him, her eyes still wide with surprise and confusion.

"Buffy?" His voice was soft, slightly tinged with awe and filled with longing and a little regret. His voice flowed over her body and called out to her.

She could only mumble inarticulately; she continued to stare into those blue eyes and wonder how this had happened, what she could possibly do or say that would be right or appropriate or even simply comprehensible.

"Buffy."

Again, that voice flowed over her and comforted her. There was something about his timbre that made her feel at home, and yet the stubborn streak resented deriving such sensations from him. She tore her gaze away and looked down at her feet, but she could still feel his gentle touch on her arm, his gaze on her face. To see him in the flesh, after imagining for so many nights--her emotions were exploding all over the place and there was barely any room to process how she was actually reacting to this unplanned meeting.

Spike was not doing much better. She was beautiful, more beautiful than in his dreams, and he'd had quite a few. She looked confident and comfortable in this building, which indicated that she was enjoying her time in New York. That made him happy, and he was just starting to figure out whether this was the building she worked in regularly or whether this was merely a coincidence. Merely a coincidence? He couldn't believe that. He didn't know what powers or beings controlled these things, but he held to the idea that someone had worked this out. He thanked that person with everything in him; seeing her again made his whole being wake up again. These past months had been busy, fulfilling in terms of work, but his social life had been limited to books and movies and nights alone in his apartment. And now that she was standing before him, he'd be damned if he'd let her slip away again.

He said hesitatingly, he said, "Can we--"

Before he could finish, she nodded at him, still incapable of articulating full sentences. If he would just give her some time, she'd be fine. Not wanting him to misunderstand her wordlessness, she smiled slightly at him, giving him a little encouragement. She started walking slowly, her nervousness needing some kind of release. And he walked alongside her, still watching her, drinking in her presence conspicuously, though she was doing the same thing in her own way. He smelled nice, faint cologne oddly mixed with his male scent and a tiny bit of cigarettes. So much had happened since they'd last seen each other. She simply continued walking, eventually ending up outside the office building and in the streets of the city. She walked, and he followed alongside. Wordlessly, they seemed to be communicating to each other their mutual desire to be in each other's presence, though they were not quite ready to speak.

They ended up at a small café nearby, and Buffy turned to go inside. He held the door open for her, got a table for two, and then sat across from her. And finally, she spoke.

"Spike." Her voice sounded flat, unemotional, but her eyes belied such indifference.

"It's so good to see you again, Buffy," he said first, wanting to set the tone for their conversation. He didn't want to scare her away, and the emotion in her eyes threatened to push him away with finality. He couldn't deal with that. He opened up the menu and motioned for her to do so as well.

Buffy bit her lip, still trying to sort out her reaction to him. She distracted herself for a little bit by ordering food, but when the waitress had come and gone, she found herself staring at him again, as if his face would help her understand what to do. He was squeezing lemon into his water and setting the napkin in his lap. He seemed at ease, though his body seemed a little tense. Maybe she should take his lead and act like they didn't have sordid history, that she hadn't been dreaming of him for the past months, that she wasn't struck dumb when she looked at him. Yes, she would try to be normal Buffy. At least that would buy time.

"So when did you get to the city?" she asked, her face attempting to look normal. She leaned forward a little, as if forcing her body to participate in the ruse. She looked ready to listen.

He smiled at her attempt at normalcy. Tilting his head a little he replied, "Oh, it's been about two months since I first moved to the city, but then I had to go out West for this conference. I only just got back this past weekend. And you?"

"Yeah, a few months. That's the building I work in, where the magazine is housed. What were you doing there?"

"Coincidentally, my magazine is on the twelfth floor. I know that there are several publications there--I had no idea that yours was. I'm glad, though, because the odds of randomly seeing each other again would be pretty low."

She smiled in response and tried not to acknowledge the slight disappointment that pinched her side. Part of her wondered if he'd sought her out, and his answer, though expected, deflated her a little. Had he thought about her at all?

"I thought about you a lot, after you left. I was hoping we'd run into each other," he said simply, his eyes conveying the sincerity in his tone.

Buffy's eyes widened with his words; it was as if he could hear her thoughts. It was still there--the connection that had burned so brightly when they'd been together, the connection that had made her so happy when they were together, the connection that she'd resented when she'd realized that he'd been with her mother. Her brow furrowed slightly at the turn of her thoughts.

Spike noticed the progression of emotions flying across her face, and his own spirits sagged a little when he realized that the final thoughts had ended sourly. He assumed that her thoughts had returned to their awkward and unpleasant parting. He tried to turn things towards a more cheerful topic of conversation. "So are you enjoying your work? Did your portfolio project turn out okay?"

She immediately brightened at the change in subject, almost grateful that he wanted to talk about their present rather than their past. Spike breathed a mental sigh of relief; if things went the way he wanted, they'd have plenty of time to figure their past out.

"Work has been really good. Tiring, exhausting, and at times annoying, but I really love it." She smiled again, her whole demeanor changing. "And my portfolio turned out beautifully." She lowered her eyes and blushed slightly, the reference bringing a Speedo-clad Spike to mind. "Thanks again for your help. Your pictures were a big hit."

"I'm glad I could help." His smirk draped sexily across his face, but his eyes were trying to convey his delight in being helpful, in having done something good for her.

"No, really, my boss absolutely loved the photos of you. In fact," she added as she leaned closer, as if trying to whisper conspiratorially, "she asked for reprints."

Spike cocked his eyebrow briefly before laughing heartily. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all," she replied gleefully. "She got them enlarged and hung them up all around her office." She shared in his laughter and allowed herself to loosen up a little. This was nice, chatting and laughing and simply being together. She remembered this part of their friendship very fondly, and it was nice that they were returning to their previous comfort level.

"So you got to see me every day, every time you were called to her office like a naughty girl?" he teased lightly, wondering how she'd felt about that. It gave him hope, that she'd still used his photos and could talk about that day without malice or discomfort. For him, it'd been one of his favorite memories. The fact that that night had ended sourly was something he tried to forget, and he hoped she did as well.

"I'm never naughty at the office," she replied before she could stop herself. Flirting was harmless, she convinced herself. He brought it out in her, and she hadn't felt this good in months. "But I wasn't the one enjoying you every day. That was Anya. She's convinced that you're a fantasy. Imagine if you walked into the office."

"Is that an invitation?" he purred, ecstatic that she was warming up to him so quickly.

"Maybe," she replied coyly.

She smiled again, making his insides melt and harden at the same time. The waitress came with their order, and Spike allowed himself a moment to stare again, fully take in this beauty before him, this witty and charming woman who'd quickly made him fall. She wasn't exactly different, but it seemed like life in the city had made her mature, become wiser and yet happier. He was eager to find out all that she'd experienced, and he hoped she'd let him be a part of her future. After taking another long look, he turned towards his food.

Buffy knew that he was watching her, looking at her with those piercing blue eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Part of her felt she should avoid seeing him, refuse to allow him into her life; Buffy tried to make that anger resurface and make its presence known--but she couldn't. Time had worn away those emotions, and she simply didn't have the fervent anger that she'd had before. There was still hesitation, unwillingness to throw herself back into the passion of their relationship, but who knew if he even wanted that? She was content with what seemed to be a returning friendship. Smiling again, she breathed easily and let herself enjoy a man's company for the first time in months.

Ch. 15: Office Flirting

Buffy was nervous. It wasn't because she was seeing Spike again. No, that had become rather consistent in these past weeks. They often walked home together, actually living only a few blocks away from each other. They had dinner together, had seen a movie once, had even gone jogging together through Central Park. No, seeing him wasn't making her nervous. She enjoyed his company, and their friendship from the summertime seemed to be returning. What made her nervous was that she was actually introducing her to others, to the office, to the world outside herself. Allowing him into other parts of her life meant acknowledging that he was important, real, substantial. What exactly did that mean? What did he mean to her?

She lay awake in her bed, trying to sleep. Tomorrow Spike was picking her up at work, actually coming into her office to get lunch. Part of the reason he was coming was because she wanted to surprise her boss, but part of her knew she just wanted to see how he'd get along with her friends, react in company that extended beyond her own. She knew that meant something; she simply didn't want to define what it meant. Right now they were friends, good friends; that was all she could handle right now.

***

Spike sat on his fire escape stoop and smoked, staring out at the lit city blurred beneath him. Buffy. Her smile and laughter swam in and out of his thoughts. Little by little, she'd let him in. They'd talked on the phone, met for drinks, taken walks, enjoyed each other's company--little by little he was becoming part of his life. That made him feel very excited--but it wasn't quite enough. Every moment was torture. He knew, even though they laughed and chatted and smiled together, that she was holding him at a distance. Her eyes were warm, but they didn't have the affectionate spark that they used to. He did see a struggle, which gave him hope, but he was not going to push the situation. Instead of brooding about the current relationship, he simply thought about her.

He loved the way the scent of her hair and skin lingered with him after they'd spent time together. He loved how she nodded and listened actively whenever he had a story to tell or a joke to share, making him feel like he was the most interesting person in the world. He loved how she was so confident and mature as a photographer and a woman but that she scrunched up her nose at a putrid scent or squealed in terror at the sight of a rat. He loved the way she walked around the city, her eyes still eagerly devouring the various sites with an expression of awe mingled with pure joy at being alive. There was just so much about her that called out to him, thrilled him, warmed him. He was in love.

He flicked his ashes from his burning cigarette and exhaled slowly. It pinched him that he was so restrained, that he couldn't simply proclaim how much he loved her. He'd been spending time at his guitar writing both maudlin and hopelessly romantic songs--songs that were even beginning to annoy him with the whining and the sappy lyrics. He felt perpetually hard, to the point that even the scent of vanilla aroused him--bakeries were becoming an erotic treat. It was crazy, really, the way she had taken hold of him. The months spent apart had been difficult, but in some ways being with her was harder. Knowing that she was right there, tangible and visible and yet untouchable--really it was the lesser of two evils, he supposed. Sighing for the last time, he put out his cigarette and turned in for the night.

***

Spike was nervous. He pulled a little at his blue button-down shirt, smoothed his hair down, and pressed the elevator button to make his way down to Buffy's office. It was part of a dare, of course, to tease her boss and show the actual flesh of the model that graced the walls of the magazine's office. However, Spike knew that it was a big step for Buffy; up till that point it'd always been just the two of them, and she seemed to like the sense of secrecy, of not having to explain who he was to others. Now he was entering a different part of her life. How was she going to introduce him? The elevator went up, the doors opened, and Spike strolled into the office, feigning nonchalance. He went up to the receptionist and smiled charmingly.

"Hello, there. Could you tell me where Buffy is?" he asked politely, putting his hands into his pockets in an attempt to hide his nervousness.

"Huh?" Harmony responded inarticulately. The blond secretary was utterly speechless; this was the model from Anya's office, and damn if he wasn't fine even with clothes on. Her eyes slowly slid down his body, undressing him till he was down to the Speedos from the photos, slightly wet from the ocean. She hungrily took in this sight and began moving her eyes up again, pausing at the only part of his body that she still hadn't seen yet, and--

"Like what you see?" Spike said, interrupting her ogling. He had an amused smirk on his face--who wouldn't be flattered by such blatant appreciation? He smiled slowly at her, enjoying how she was blushing under his blunt question.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just..." Harmony began gesticulating in an attempt to hide her own arousal. This man was so incredibly sexy, and looking at him just made her want to jump him, nibble on his skin, and ride him till she screamed. "My name's Harmony." She extended her hand, still ignoring his question about Buffy.

"Hello, Harmony. Name's Spike," he replied, shaking her hand and briefly squeezing it. He smiled again, smirking as she blushed and stammered under his gaze. "As I was asking before, do you think you could tell me where Buffy is?" The girl was cute, but Buffy had him completely under her thrall.

"Why don't I escort you personally?" Harmony purred. She linked her arm in his before he could say anything and slowly began to walk towards Buffy's cubicle. Rubbing his arm, she deftly felt his muscles and giggled with glee at touching this walking sex. "Ooh, nice biceps."

Spike looked down at her in amusement, his eyes dancing with laughter. She certainly was forward. He chuckled a little and was about to reply when he heard a cold voice.

"Looks like you found the office okay." Buffy stood by her cubicle, trying not to let the furious jealousy creep into her throat. She was rather unsuccessful. That stupid bitch was touching her--her what? She was taken back by her own reaction to Harmony's pawing of Spike. She had no claim on him, no reason to feel like Harmony was encroaching on her territory. Still, the way he had looked down at her with that smile--it made her want to pull on all that fake blond hair and claw at the stupid pink outfits she always had on. Surprised again by the intensity of her response, she pasted a bright smile on her face.

Spike looked up quickly, hearing her voice carry over to where they were approaching. He tilted his head slightly, trying to understand that awkward smile on her face and how it related to the slightly cold tone of her voice. Could she possibly be jealous? He knew it was terrible of him, but he decided to test his theory. Just a little bit--just enough so he could figure her out.

"Thank you so much for personally escorting me," he said graciously to Harmony. He watched for Buffy's reaction as he lightly squeezed Harmony's hand and gave her a stunning smile. Buffy seemed to be looking for her purse and didn't even notice.

"Any time. You know, if you ever want to model for me, I do a little photography myself." Harmony flipped her hair back and leaned forward a little, her breasts pushed together for his pleasure.

Spike chuckled at her brazenness and shrugged. "I think my modeling days are over. But thanks for the offer." He smiled again and then turned to look at Buffy. She looked a little bored, as if he was taking up time in her busy day. "You sure you're up for lunch? You look a little busy or distracted."

"If you can't, I'm sure I can take Spike out to lunch," Harmony piped in quickly, still not ready to leave.

"Oh no, I'm fine. I was just cleaning up a little before I left. I got a lot of work done this morning so I could have a leisurely lunch." She smiled genuinely at Spike. Just a moment before, she'd had to use almost every effort not to push Spike behind her and hiss at Harmony. She'd had to force herself to look indifferent and unaware of how they were flirting with each other--yes, he was definitely flirting back. Her look must have been too successful. She smiled again, not wanting him to feel unwelcome.

He smiled back, and Harmony was a distant memory. He turned his back to her completely as he reached for Buffy's jacket to help her. "I'm so glad. I was really looking forward to lunch today. There's this great café that I found nearby."

"I'm glad you have something planned. I don't feel like making a decision." She zipped up her jacket and enjoyed the way he did little things like that without making it uncomfortable. There was no one around--no one important, anyway--for her to introduce him to. Willow had run out to meet a friend for coffee, Anya had a meeting outside the office, and those were the only two she really felt needed to meet Spike. It all worked out, because now she had time to ease herself into his presence; by the time they got back, she'd be fully ready to handle things, not react insanely the way she had to Harmony's actions. Grabbing her purse, she said to him, "Oh, Anya's out of the office right now, so we'll go make our little visit after lunch."

He nodded and moved towards the elevator with her at his side. The two walked past Harmony without a second thought.

"Oh my god. Is that the Speedo guy?" Faith, another employee at the magazine, asked Harmony as the couple left the office.

"Yes. That Buffy is trying to keep him all to herself." Harmony stared daggers into the girl's back. "She could at least have introduced him properly. I'm lucky to have that front desk--never thought it would serve me till now."

"Well, Buffy has to come back sometime. We'll just have to make sure we're around. Unless they're dating, which it doesn't seem like since he didn't put his arm around her or anything, he's fair game. We'll just have to pounce when he gets back." She cocked her head in confidence and smiled as the two girls began plotting.

***

They were seated in a cozy booth in a small café, just two blocks from their building. It was tiny, so tiny that their legs couldn't help but be entangled underneath the tablecloth. It was made for intimacy, and Spike expected her to move her legs or apologize for the touching or something--but she simply smiled and allowed their legs to fall where they may. He tried not to let his glee show on his face, hiding his grin in the menu.

Seeing the attention that Spike seemed to get from all of the women and some of the men in the city, Buffy was starting to feel a little unsettled. How was she supposed to keep him interested, ensure that Spike stayed focused on her when all she was offering was friendship? It wasn't that Spike would ever say such things, or even think them for that matter, but she couldn't escape these fears. Okay, friendship was there--she knew she'd always find a friend in Spike--but the past weeks had been unfettered by other people. The whole thing was pressuring her to define things sooner than she wanted. All she wanted to do was enjoy the light pressure of his leg on hers, the way he tilted his head and listened to every single word she said.

"So are you still up for going to the concert in Central Park tonight?" His voice broke into her thoughs. They had been planning to see one of the local bands playing in the park, but details hadn't been set yet. Spike didn't want her to feel that they were spending all their time together, but there was no harm in asking.

Buffy nodded. "Definitely. And the weather's supposed to be great, so I'm looking forward to it. Did you have any ideas for dinner?" Friends went to concerts together. Friends had lunch together. Did it really matter that they were spending more and more time together?

"Actually, if you don't mind staying in, I was thinking I could just whip up something quick and eat in. Does that sound okay?" He was very proud of his place, the way he'd been able to decorate and call it home. For whatever reason, he really wanted to share what he'd done with her.

"That sounds great. Besides, we're eating out now. Don't want to waste too much money. Oh, and then I can finally check out your apartment!" she said excitedly, a smile brightening her face.

Spike soaked in that smile and let it warm his toes for the rest of the lunch.

***

When they got back to the office, the place was hopping. It was as if the news had spread during their absence, and now Spike was a hot and wanted commodity.

"Hi, Spike. Glad to see you again," Harmony called out the moment he'd entered the floor. She didn't even acknowledge Buffy at first, her attention so focused on Spike, but eventually she greeted her as well. "Buffy, hi. I have a message for you." She held out a phone message to Buffy but kept her eyes on Spike.

The two lingered in front of the desk, and Faith decided it was time to be introduced. "Hey, there, you look mighty familiar. I'm Faith." She shook his hand but held onto it while pulling herself forward. Smiling coyly, she let go but trailed her hand down her chest as she backed away.

Spike grinned at her and almost laughed out loud at the look of fury on Buffy's face. "Glad to meet you, Faith," he murmured, turning on his charm. He smiled at both women before turning to Buffy and saying, "Buffy, you didn't tell me there were such--"

"Let's go meet Anya, okay?" she interrupted. Buffy knew he was about to give those two airheads some sort of compliment, and it was difficult enough not to push them aside physically. She put her hand lightly on Spike's arm and then led the way.

"See you later, ladies," he said politely, reining in some of his earlier charm. Buffy had made herself known, and that was enough for him. A large grin on his face, he followed her down the hall to the large corner office of the magazine.

"You know, they attack every male that comes into the office," Buffy commented, keeping her eyes away from his observant face.

"I'm sure they do. They're harmless. Just a little innocent flirting." He shrugged.

"Ah, so you admit that you were flirting with them," she noted with triumph.

"Well, yeah. I didn't know flirting was a bad thing." He looked down at her in all innocence, wondering if she could hear the possessive tone in her voice--not that he minded, of course.

"Of course it's bad! I mean, leading on women is generally a bad thing," Buffy explained, keeping all of her justifications on a very global level, even in her own denials.

"Of course." He smiled again at her as they heard Anya's voice calling out for them to come in.

"Anya, I want you to meet--"

"Oh my god. You brought him. My very own Speedo man." Anya stood up and blatantly stared at his body. Suddenly Spike felt a little violated.

"Anya, please. This is the real thing, not a picture. You can't just stare and no expect him to get a little wigged out." Buffy tried not to be annoyed by her boss's obvious attraction to her, well, her friend. She was looking out for her friend.

"Hi, I'm Spike." He held out his hand in an attempt to get her to stop looking at his crotch.

"Anya. Nice to meet you. Ooh, nice grip," she observed, still not seeing him fully as a person.

As flattering as the attention was, he was starting to get a little annoyed. He pulled his hand back and then moved to look at the various photos adorning the walls. "I was wondering which ones you ended up choosing." He walked from one to the next, amazed at Buffy's ability to capture so many of his emotions on film. That day came flooding back to him, the way they'd held each other in the water and came in each other's arms. He began to become aroused, and he tried to subtly adjust himself.

Buffy was being bombarded with memories, the photos of Spike bringing back the feel of her legs around his waist and the water up against her body. She thought she'd become inured to those flashbacks, indifferent to his face staring down at her each time she'd entered the room, but his presence surrounded by the photos had broken down her defenses.

Anya noticed the tension between the two and pulled Buffy to the side. "What's going on between you two?" she whispered.

Spike tried not to eavesdrop, but the office was not that large--and he hoped that it would help alleviate the growing tightness in his pants .

"What do you mean? We're friends," Buffy whispered back, trying not to let the flush of her cheeks unnerve her.

"Yeah right. That's why you're blushing like a horny virgin and he's adjusting himself in his pants."

Spike starting coughing loudly, choking on something--whether it was surprise, horror, or laughter, Buffy couldn't tell. Whatever the case was, she needed to get out of that office.

"Oh my god, Spike, are you okay? Come with me--I'll get some water for you, and then I should probably get back to work." With a final glare at Anya, she led the choking man out of the office.

"She's got it bad," Anya said, shaking her head. She watched them walk away--watched that tight ass walk away--and sighed. "At least I have my photos." Turning back to look at the gorgeous model, she closed the door behind her.

A glass of water later, Spike could finally laugh the way he really wanted to. He threw his head back and laughed, the sound zinging up and down Buffy's body. It was only laughter, innocent laughter, and it made her hot. She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry if she made you uncomfortable."

Spike shook his head as his laughter died down. "No, it's no problem. I mean, I wasn't expecting it all, but I guess those women have seen most of my body already. I must look strange with all these clothes on." He smiled again, not wanting her to feel awkward.

"I'm glad you don't mind that women are throwing themselves at your luscious body," she said dryly, rolling her eyes.

"Luscious? That's a new one," he said with a smirk, curling his tongue.

"You are so terrible," she teased, laughing. "I should have known the modeling would go to your head."

"Those aren't all the photos, though," he said, suddenly growing serious.

Buffy's blush returned full force. "Uh, no. I didn't give her all of them. You know, some of them were a little more personal." Her voice lowered to a hushed whisper, as if she were sharing a secret.

He stared at her, wanting her to look up. "That was a wonderful day, our time at the beach." He reached out and touched her hand lightly.

She gasped at the sudden contact, the first he'd initiated since she'd left him so long ago. For a moment, she was speechless, but then all the memories came surging back--all of them. She pulled her hand back slowly but kept her eyes on him.

"Buffy!" Willow's voice approached. "So who was this mystery guy that you--Oh. Uh, hi! I'm Willow, normally not with her foot in her mouth." Spike had been seated at her desk, so Willow had mistakenly assumed that Buffy was alone. She mouthed an apology to Buffy.

Buffy awoke suddenly, as if shaken out of a dream, and then turned on her polite voice. "Willow, this is Spike. He's my, uh, he's a friend of mine." She widened her eyes for emphasis when Spike had turned to greet her, and Willow nodded in understanding.

"So good to meet you. Hope Harmony didn't give you too much trouble. She's been obsessed with you for a while." Willow smiled, trying to make up for her earlier slip.

"Good to meet you. Listen, I better get back to work. You want me to meet you back here, or should I call you about dinner?" Spike asked, getting ready to leave.

"Oh, why don't I just call you when I get home? I have some errands to run after work."

"Sounds good. I'll talk to you then. Lunch was great. Nice meeting you, Willow." He waved, not wanting to seem like Willow had broken into a moment, and then walked towards the elevator.

When the elevator had safely closed its doors, Willow neared to hear what had happened. "I'm so sorry if I goofed. I didn't see him at first."

"God, everyone else did. I was fighting to keep them off of him." She sighed heavily while sinking into her chair.

"So you have been keeping a secret! This is the guy you've been fantasizing about, right? With the baggage and all?" Willow's voice lowered to a whisper.

"Yeah, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it all."

Willow said nothing, not commenting on what Faith and Harmony had said about her jealous behavior and certainly not commenting on the way he'd been looking at her and how Buffy's face had expressed such longing.

"It'll all work out, right?" Buffy asked, her eyes desperately wanting an easy answer.

"Yes, it'll definitely work out," Willow reassured her. They shared a smile before Willow returned to her cubicle.

Alone again at her desk, Buffy closed her eyes and tried not to remember too much. "It'll all work out," she repeated one more time. Breathing deeply and then opening her eyes, she launched back into her work before her thoughts could take control of her.

Ch. 16: A Concert of Emotions

She arrived at his apartment a little early; rather than burst in before expected, Buffy took a stroll around his block. She looked up at the various brownstones lining the street, the little park with its slightly dilapidated playground, the corner newsstand with its Playboys next to The Wall Street Journal. This is what he saw every morning when he left for work. Did he notice it the way she did? The way the blue paint had chipped and worn away to create a shadow of a Rene Magritte painting? Did he watch the corner nuts man scoop and turn his peanuts rhythmically, as if creating a symphony of nuts and car horns and heel taps on the sidewalk? It was unlikely; her thoughts always seemed very odd and almost crazy to others. But what if he did? She sighed and shook her head slightly. What if he didn't? Really, what difference did it make? Unfortunately, it did seem to matter. She really wanted him to see those things and yet wanted him not to--wanted him to confirm her suspicions that their connection really was merely a construction of her deluded and romantic mind. Her internal insecurities and fatalistic mindset were starting to make her dizzy. She found herself in front of his place once more and slowly made her way up the stairs.

And fell in love with the building. Marble stairs, polished wood banisters, old ornate iron numbers on the doors, she felt very comfortable here, sensing a kinship with the building, if such a thing were possible. Of course she would love his building. She sighed once more and then waited for Spike to come to the door.

"Hey! Come on in," he said, awkwardly inviting her in before running his hand quickly through his hair. Warming his neck with his hand to avoid fidgeting, Spike said shyly, "Welcome to my home. Feel free to take a look around. I'm just going to finish things up in the kitchen." He gave her a quick smile before returning to his culinary arts. He pretended to be busy cooking, stirring occasionally and throwing things into the trash, but he couldn't help watching Buffy as she casually checked out his place.

"Nice place," Buffy commented, not wanting to sound overly complimentary, even though she was overwhelmed by how much she immediately she loved the place. She ran her fingers lightly against the vast collection of books neatly organized in the built-in bookshelves. She smiled to herself as she observed the alphabetical-by-author order and silently ooh-ed at his eclectic mix of books. Nodding at the numerous books she'd read and itching to read those she hadn't, she forced herself to go to the kitchen and help out with dinner.

---

"Wow. That was really good." Buffy nodded her head for emphasis, staring at her clean plate. "I mean, damn. That was really good food."

He smiled at her and then took a sip of wine. "I'm glad you liked it. You should come over more often. Be my guinea pig for recipes I'm trying out. I'm always looking to try something new." He smiled warmly at her while standing up to take her plate.

"No, I'll do it. You cooked. It's the least I can do." She started towards him and tried to take the plate away.

He just grinned and kept walking, leading her towards the sink. He enjoyed having her so near and simply relished her light touch on his arm. "Actually, we should get going. Let's just leave these. I can take care of it later." After putting the plate down, he gently squeezed her hand and then moved away.

"Well, I'll just come back afterwards and help you clean up then." She shrugged triumphantly and tried not to think about what she had just said, how she had agreed to come back to the apartment, help clear the table, stay with him till the wee hours of the night. She blamed it on his touch and the illogical reason for still sensing his hand on hers.

"It's a deal." He winked at her and then washed his hands quickly. "Ready to go?"

"Ready."

--

They easily chatted while walking to the park, discussing their jobs, the various people who walked by and the stories they made about them. It was a pleasant walk, not marked by anything spectacular but by their simple ease with each other's presence. Somehow, that subtlety was more intense than anything else. With so much time before the concert, they decided to wander a little and grab some refreshment.

"I'll just go grab us something and be right back. Sound good?" Spike said, enjoying the relaxed feeling of the interaction.

"Sounds great. I'll just be here." Buffy gestured around her. "I'll try not to wander."

"Yeah, don't make me come find you." He winked and then headed towards the drink stations.

Spike paid the vendor and grasped two cold drinks in his hands. Nodding thanks, he turned to weave his way back to Buffy's side.

He could see Buffy waiting for him, attempting to look nonchalant but occasionally looking around for him--he knew she didn't like appearing alone. He headed towards her and smiled brilliantly when she looked his way. She smiled back and turned to meet him.

And instantly collided with a large chest.

"Ugh--excuse me, but--" Buffy's words stopped instantly when she looked up into a familiar face. "Riley!" she said, surprise registering on her face.

Spike's eyebrow lifted immediately. He'd been ready to jump in and play the protective boyfriend, ready to give the dirty glare and receive the look of gratefulness from Buffy herself--but her recognition threw him for a loop.

"Buffy, oh man, it's been ages. Wow, I--" Riley stopped for a moment to give her a rather long bear hug.

Spike lifted his other eyebrow. He moved forward to make sure this Riley knew he was there with Buffy.

"Buffy, you look wonderful! I had no idea you were in New York now. You should have called me or something." Riley glanced over at Spike but didn't say anything to acknowledge him.

"Well, I've been rather occupied--you know, moving to a new place, new job, all that." Buffy smiled and then gestured towards Spike. "Riley, this is Spike. Spike, Riley. He's my...Spike. Yeah." She tried to cover her hesitation with a wave of her hand, but her slight blush belied the casual gesture. "And Riley, Riley's an old friend of mine, and--"

"Just an old friend? I thought we were gonna get married." Riley flashed a smile towards Spike, still feeling out their relationship. "It's nice to meet you. How do you know Buffy?"

"Oh, Spike and I met at the beach this past summer, and we both just moved to the city for jobs." Buffy decided that she'd rather keep their relationship indefinite; for some reason, she didn't want to hear Spike call her just a friend, even though that's clearly what she was--platonic, non-gay friend. Geez.

Spike raised his eyebrow again; he'd been waiting to hear her identification of their relationship. He decided to take this lack of definition as a good sign--it gave him the freedom to act in any way he chose. He handed Buffy her drink and allowed himself to relax a little.

But his relaxation was fairly short-lived. Riley was using Buffy's lack of definition in his own favor, taking every opportunity to touch her arm gently or lean forward into her space. Spike's jaw was clenched in conflicting emotions--jealousy that he was touching her, indicating that they'd had a fairly intimate history, anger that she was allowing him to show such ease, and disappointment that she wasn't treating him any differently.

It was probably wrong that Buffy was enjoying herself so much, but she'd been annoyed earlier today when Spike had attracted so much attention. It was only natural for her to enjoy the same kind of attention, expected that she would encourage such comfortable flirting, assumed that she would capitalize on the undercurrent of competition that was zinging around her petite body. Noting that Spike's face had been tense with jealousy for a fairly long time, she turned to him, gently resting her hand on his arm, and said, "You haven't been to the Met since you've been here, right? Riley was just mentioning that he'd seen their most recent exhibit. You wanna go see it?" She batted her eyes innocently, her feminine wiles comfortably playing both men.

Spike's lips curled into a smile. "Sure thing. Maybe do a day in Central Park at the same time?" He reached out to brush away a stray hair, marking his own intimacy with Buffy through the simple touch.

Buffy didn't even want Riley--he'd been somewhat of a bore in college, and it seemed that he was now a full-fledged bore. His military sensibilities and traditional ways of life had been attractive in her chaotic college days, but now it just seemed dull and uninviting. And, of course, she convinced herself, she didn't want Spike. They had a good--no great--friendship. He was like her hot gay (but definitely not gay) best friend; she could spend all her time with him, enjoy the connection they had, and know that she wouldn't fall in love with him, right? Their soap opera history would keep their relationship platonic. Flirting with him was fun, but completely innocent, right? Her flawed logic in place, she smiled brightly at both men, who each slightly growled at the other.

"Buffy, I could show you the exhibit. Since I've seen it already, I could give you a personal tour." Riley moved closer, as if his mere presence would help her change her mind.

Buffy noted his movements and did her best not to grimace. She remembered that tactic well--and had the same reaction to it, one of near claustrophobia. She noticed that Spike was about to answer, and she pre-empted his answer with her own. "No, it's okay. I remember how you used to get kinda bored with museums, and Spike and I have been planning to go anyway. Right?" She turned to Spike for confirmation, her hand still lightly holding his arm.

Spike smiled triumphantly. "Yeah, one of the things on our list."

Buffy arched her eyebrow at that but didn't contradict him. Turning to Riley, she said, "But maybe we can just grab dinner some time?"

Riley smiled triumphantly. "That sounds great. Why don't you give me your number?"

Spike, not to be overlooked, checked his watch and then said, "Hey, the concert's gonna get started soon. You wanted to get close up, right?"

"Oh my god--totally lost track of time. Yeah, let's get going. Give me a call sometime, Riley." She quickly scribbled her number on a piece of paper. I might be out of town this week on business, so don't call before then." Letting Spike lead her into the park, Buffy waved goodbye.

--

The park was starting to get crowded; people gathered around the vendors, buying food and stocking up for their outdoor music enjoyment. Buffy’s whole demeanor exuded excitement; her smile lit up her face, and her body bounced with energy.

"Aren’t you excited? I love outdoor concerts!" she exclaimed as they weaved through the crowds. "Come on, we have to get right up front." She reached out to pull on his shirt but caught his hand instead. Undaunted, she grasped his fingers and continued to plow through the people.

Spike smiled at her energy and allowed the heat of their joined hands course through him. He was trying so hard to play the friend card, but he couldn't help but stare at her beauty and enjoy every touch, every look--and not in a friendly sort way. Still, she didn't seem to notice, and so he merely allowed himself to be pulled along. With Buffy's determination and perseverance, they found themselves a premium spot right by the stage. Getting settled, both relaxed a little.

There was still about half an hour before the concert started, restless people wandering around the park, creating a relaxed but anticipatory atmosphere. They stood in silence for a little, people-watching and enjoying the energy of the moment. Despite the mixture of activity around them, Spike's mind was still focused on Riley and her interaction with him. Trying to sound nonchalant, Spike leaned in and asked, "So you and Riley went to college together?" He kept his voice casual, not wanting to pry but giving her the opportunity to share.

"Yeah, we dated for a little bit, but it just sort of faded. Nice guy, but just not my type." Buffy shrugged noncommittally, as if their relationship had been rather insignificant. She caught his eyes for a little, and her heart began its little spiral of dizziness that seemed to appear when she was near him. She smiled slowly, unable to suppress the silly grin that naturally responded to his presence.

And suddenly, life seemed a little brighter. Spike smiled down at her, infusing his eyes with affection and hope. Buffy faltered, eyes lowered, and she nervously licked her lips. Not wanting to push, Spike looked away and simply enjoyed the budding hope in his heart.

They lapsed into silence, the crowd starting to thicken with the approaching starting time. They began getting jostled and pushed a little, and Buffy kept giving glaring looks around. Finally, Spike placed his arms on either side of her, resting his hands on the stage and creating a small oasis in the midst of pushy bodies. It seemed to do the trick, and Buffy tried not to notice the sense of security that wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She told herself that the rising heat was merely from the growing number of people arriving for the concert and not the fact that she could feel the heat emanating from the lithe body behind her. Keeping her face turned towards the stage, she ignored every message her body was sending her.

Spike knew it was rather risky to put his arms basically around her, but he was just as tired of the shoving. And the slight blush traveling up her neck was enough assurance that his help wasn't unwanted. He smiled again, savoring the light scent of her skin and the softness of her hair that occasionally slid across his neck. The night was wonderful, crisp but not cold, and there wasn't anywhere else he wanted to be.

--

The concert was amazing, the performer banging out songs on the piano, entertaining the masses with amusing anecdotes, and somewhere along the way, Buffy had leaned into Spike's chest. Somewhere along the way, they'd begun swaying to the music together. So when the haunting notes of a love ballad began to float by, it seemed natural that the arms once resting on the stage now rested around her waist. And it seemed natural that, somehow, she found her hands resting on top of his. Naturally it was merely the spell of the music and the crush of bodies surrounding them--not an irresistible attracting drawing them together. So naturally, when the slow song was over and the music began to pick up the pace, they'd step apart and resume their earlier stance of merely standing together instead of the way they were currently standing together.

Except not. Except his arms around her felt so damn good that she couldn't bring herself to pull away. Except she didn't want to think about what was right or supposed to be or anything like that--she just wanted to be. In his arms. No matter how she twisted it, no matter how many times she described him as a platonic non-gay friend from the past, she could not deny how comfortable, how right it felt being in his arms.

And Spike was perfectly content to keep her there. He didn't question the way she'd started to move into his arms, didn't wonder at the way she began to snuggle into his chest, didn't even blink when her hands began sliding over his. He knew it was going to come to an end eventually, so he was going to enjoy the now as much as possible.

But the now came to an end with the concert. There were no more excuses for why they were standing in each other's arms, especially when the roadies began clearing the stage and giving them dirty looks. Slowly, they began to move apart and away from the stage. Even walking they stayed close, inviting the occasional brushes of thigh against thigh, shoulder against shoulder, hand against hand. They didn't say much, not wanting to shatter the sensuality of the night. Before they wanted it, they were in front of Buffy's apartment building.

Finally, under the weak yellow of the light outside, under the muted stars of the sky, they turned to look at each other. There was heat crackling all around them, yearning to blaze further, but neither was quite ready to give in yet.

"Concert was great," Buffy said, awkwardly beginning the conversation.

"That it was. Outdoor concerts are always nice." He ran his fingers through his hair, not wanting to fidget.

Buffy watched his fingers sliding through his hair...sexy. She bit her lip.

And the fullness of her lip puckered under that bite. Sexy.

"Fuck it," she thought to herself, giving in to her desire. "Inviting him up is what a friend would do. We're not talking sex, here." Blinking away the sudden thoughts of sexy bodies and slightly holding her breath, she said to Spike, "You wanna come in for coffee or something?"

Spike smiled broadly, amazed at his good fortune. He knew it didn't mean sex, didn't mean anything, really, except that he'd be able to spend more time with her. "That'd be great."

Buffy ignored the butterflies engaging in wing to wing combat inside of her and slowly moved up the stairs. "It's not complete--I mean, I haven't really made the place mine yet, but eventually it'll happen, I guess. It's not as nice as yours, but it's where I live." She shrugged and grinned a little.

He smiled back and waited as she fumbled with her keys. He was trying to avoid getting his hopes up with the possibility of actually being able to touch her, to hold her without the music as an excuse, but it was difficult.

Buffy finally found her key, threw him a quick smile, and opened the door.

"Cordy!" Surprise was all over her face and her voice in seeing her roommate seated at the kitchen table drinking a diet coke.

"Buffy!" Cordy smiled broadly and then smiled more when she saw Spike enter behind her. "So good to see you," she drawled, not taking her eyes off of the handsome man.

Spike couldn't resist a smile, and he grinned widely in response, though not without including Buffy in the smile.

Buffy tried not to roll her eyes--clearly the man was an incurable flirt. "Cordy, this is Spike."

Cordy's eyes widened knowingly, and Buffy blushed miserably, hoping that Cordy wouldn't jump to any conclusions. "We just went to a concert in Central Park , and he walked me back, and I thought maybe he'd want something to drink or something before going home, and--"

"So nice to meet you. Did you enjoy the concert?" Cordy interrupted, trying to save her friend from rambling off the deep end. "Have a seat and make yourself comfortable."

"Um, actually," Spike hesitated, wondering if Buffy's babbling indicated a renewed hesitancy on her part. Glancing at her perturbed countenance, he continued and said, "I think I'm going to get going. You guys can catch up--Buffy mentioned she hadn't seen you in a while." He smiled at Cordy and then walked towards Buffy. "Give me a call sometime? Maybe we can do the museum on Sunday?"

Buffy nodded, thankful that he was going--not because she didn't want him here but because, with Cordy here, her reality was catching up with her. Cordy's presence would only make her more awkward, and her small fantasies of yearning looks and quiet but sensual conversation dissipated quickly. She walked with him to her door and gently held his arm. "That sounds perfect. I'll give you a call tomorrow. Thanks again for walking me back." All of a sudden, she snapped her fingers in exasperation. "Oh, wait! I didn't help you with the dishes!"

Spike chuckled. "Don't even worry about it. I forgot--too busy enjoying the evening, I guess."

"Yeah, but you made dinner and everything. I can't believe I didn't even--"

"Hey, just means you'll owe me later." He slowly smiled and touched her cheek lightly. "Yeah, we'll just have to do dinner again, and you'll get your chance."

Buffy nodded, trying not to let her face heat up at his brief touch. "Definitely. You'll have to let me help you next time." Her hand lingered a little on his chest, patting it as if making sure he knew she was sincere.

"I will. Take care." He gave her hand a squeeze, smiled, and held her gaze for a moment before murmuring, "Good night." And then he was gone.

"I'll talk to you later," she called out as he started down the stairs. With a final wave, she watched him disappear and then gently closed the door.

"It's not what you think," Buffy said before turning to face her friend. "He's like my gay best friend."

Cordy snorted unattractively. "Except he's NOT. And he's fucking hot. Damn, Buffy, if I weren't moving out to LA on Monday, I'd--"

"What?" Buffy spun around and stared at her friend. "You're, you're--what?"

"Oops." Cordy smiled innocently. "Okay, so I wasn't really planning on telling you like that, but hey. Guess what? I got the part! Okay, so maybe you don't know what part I'm talking about, since I just found out about it the other day. But whatever. I got the part! And I'm moving out to LA to begin the season! Yay, me!" Cordy's face was lit up by the huge goofy smile.

Buffy eventually got over her shock and ran over to her friend, excitement pouring out of each girl's mouth in the form of incoherent shrieks and babbles and interjections. Finally, the bubbly died down, and Buffy hugged Cordy tightly.

"I'm so happy for you! That's so amazing! You are gonna be amazing." She smiled genuinely. "So tell me about the part!"

"Oh, I play this snobby bitch who actually has layers and is just waiting for someone to peel away at the onion. It's great!" Slowly, Cordy's smile slipped a little.

Buffy noticed immediately. "What? What's wrong? Is there some catch--a porny catch or something?"

Cordy rolled her eyes. "No, stupid. It's a legitimate part. But the thing is, I was planning on selling the condo right away--letting Daddy take care of it. And he's been eager to get rid of this property because the market's really good right now. Which sort of means..." She looked up with expectation.

"I have to move out. Right. Gotcha." Buffy nodded, trying to figure out her options.

"I'm so sorry. It's just that when I called Daddy to tell him about the part, he jumped on the idea of selling the place, and he kinda doesn't know you live here--not that he would care or anything, but it wouldn't make sense to him if--"

"No, no. Don't even worry about it. I'll find some place to crash until I find my own place. I'm really happy for you--this is your big break, the one you've been waiting for." Buffy hugged her again. "Don't worry about me. I'll figure something out."

"Hey," Cordy said, a huge grin spreading across her face. "Maybe you could crash at your hottie's place! Sounds like a nice excuse to wake up to that body, don't you think?" Cordy tried to look innocent, but her rakish grin gave her away.

"Um, hello? Gay best friend?"

"Um, hello? Not gay, and totally hot?"

The girls burst into giggles, and Buffy tried to ignore Cordy's hints and her own secret hopes and fears of the new situation. As they lightly conversed about her new role, Buffy let her mind wander a little, not allowing herself to consider the possibility of staying in Spike's apartment. No, she'd somehow figure it out--surely it wasn't that hard to find a place in New York City , right? Sighing, she eventually said her goodnights and retreated to her bedroom, letting her mind wander a little more in the comfort of the darkness.

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