Disclaimer & Author's Note: The usual.

Blue Horizons
Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Knew ‘d find you here,” Spike said with a satisfied smirk as he sat on the stool beside her.

Elizabeth snorted and continued to mix a deep midnight blue on her pallet. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m so hard to find…” she teased sarcastically.

“Weren’t in the bed,” Spike joked back, “and, believe me, I checked very thoroughly…” He gave her a lascivious little smirk.

She jutted out her lower lip playfully. “Now you make me feel bad that I missed it,” she pouted.

He chuckled and watched a rich shade of violet darken the paint before her brush snatched it up and stroked it across the pale canvas. “How’d classes go?” he asked curiously, watching the landscape unfold before him.

She scrunched up her nose. “Calculus is evil,” she decided. “Class is bad enough. Do we really have to have problem sessions as well?”

“Sometimes you can get the TA to do your homework for you,” Spike pointed out. “Try that.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Not my TA,” she sighed. “He doesn’t even speak English.”

“Chinese?” he inquired curiously.

“German,” she sighed.

“At least that’s remotely close to English,” he commented.

“Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she complained. Several more dark strokes, and the murky darkness became the outline of a shadowed tree. “What about you?” she inquired.

“Skipped Comparative Lit. Had a quiz in World History, so I went to that. Never take a class from Hinckley,” he advised with a shudder.

“Wasn’t planning to,” she agreed. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

“Can’t seem to keep anythin’ straight in his head. The man’s brilliant, but he delivers the most confusin’ lectures…” Spike trailed off. “That’s the lake behind my house,” he noticed as the silver ripples in the water became apparent.

“Yeah,” Elizabeth agreed with a little blush. “I like it there.”

“Like it there, too, kitten,” he agreed with a delighted little smile.

“I figured it was a good addition to the ‘Places That Have Changed My Life’ theme,” she commented before reaching in carefully with a tiny brush and adding white tips to the waves.

“Life changin’ experience, huh?” he whispered seductively, leaning in so close to her ear that she could feel his warm breath tingle her sensitive skin there.

She batted him away with her elbow. “I’m trying to paint here,” she pointed out.

“I don’t mind,” he countered unreasonably, nibbling gently at her ear.

“Don’t make me paint your tongue blue,” she threatened, eyes narrowed menacingly and paintbrush wavering in a threatening manner.

He chuckled and ducked her attack. “Enough, luv,” he laughed, hands raised defensively. “I surrender.”

She just rolled her eyes and returned to her painting, a smile curling at the edges of her lips. “So, Mister Giles,” she asked coyly, “what are you planning to do this fine Friday evening?”

“Why, Miss Summers!” he teased back. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Do you want me to?” she flirted right back.

“Under normal circumstances, ‘d be honored,” he said with mock-gravity. “But not tonight.”

“OK, I’ll bite,” she said with a curious look. “Why not tonight?”

“Because ‘s come to my attention that tonight’s my beautiful girlfriend’s birthday,” he sighed. “Hafta cow-tow to the old ball ‘n chain, y’know?”

She gave him a deadly glare in response. “You don’t watch it and your beautiful girlfriend will have your head on a platter for her birthday,” she threatened lightly.

He chuckled. “Too true,” he agreed. “So you see why ‘m not available tonight, then?”

“I suppose so,” she played along with his little game. “But it’s too bad ‘cause we really could’ve had fun…”

“Don’t s’pose my girlfriend’d let you come with?” Spike suggested, stroking his chin in a way that supposed to look thoughtful but ended up just looking goofy.

Elizabeth giggled. “Depends if she’s the jealous-type,” she decided.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “Whattaya you think?”

“I think,” Elizabeth set down her brush and moved over to him, “that she’s very territorial about these things…” Her arms slipped around his waist, and her lips gently brushed his.

He let out a little groan in response, and his eyes rolled back in his head. “You’re too good to me, luv,” he whispered raggedly, obviously deeply touched by her admission.

A shy little smile skirted across the edges of her lips, and she cautiously reached up to run her fingers through the peroxide blond locks at one temple. “Spike,” she said simply, savoring the knowledge that this wonderful man really was hers.

“’Lizabeth,” he sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

They held each other like that for a moment, still linked in a loose embrace before Elizabeth opened her eyes once more.

“I guess I can take it that you’re not cheating on me, then?” she teased lightly, picking up the clunky mug that someone with very little skill in the pottery class had been too ashamed to claim. It made a great depository for her brushes, though.

“Well, technically, I think I might be cheatin’ on you with yourself,” Spike said after a moment’s confused consideration.

She laughed at that as well as she washed out her brushes. “That’s the one compromise I’m willing to make,” she agreed.

He chuckled and sat down on her vacated stool, watching her clean up. She was so beautiful, even like this with a paint-splattered smock on and her hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a little smudge of blue and white on one cheek. In fact, he thought she looked more beautiful than she ever had before. His heart felt like it would break his chest every time he saw her like this and…

“Hello?” Elizabeth snapped her fingers right in front of his face, breaking him for his daydreams. “Earth to Spike?”

“Pickin’ up Cordy’s mannerisms, I see,” he commented wryly.

Elizabeth snapped again for emphasis and grinned. “She’s got this whole theory about how it’s the only way to get through to thick-headed men,” she teased. “So far all data support her hypothesis.”

He rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. “So what was it you were tryin’ to say while I was busy undressing you with my eyes?” he inquired.

She blushed slightly when her suspicions about his distraction were confirmed but didn’t let it phase her. “Where are we going?” she repeated her question.

“Just dinner, I thought,” he said a bit nervously. “Unless you want somethin’ more. But ‘ve got massage oil and that weepy girly music you like to listen to back in our room so…”

“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed with a contented smile. Her smock neatly hung over the hook in her locker, she slipped back into his embrace. “Shall we go, lover?” she joked lightly.

“Mmm…” was his incoherent response as he buried his nose in the vanilla perfume of her hair.

“Spike!” She whapped him the shoulder before dragging him along behind her.

He chuckled and followed her more than willingly. “So how does nineteen feel, luv?” he inquired.

“I feel as though I’ve acquired a whole new level of maturity,” she answered mock-seriously. “I am a true adult now, ready to take on the work-a-day world. This is the new, professional me and-”

“Luv?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got paint on your cheek.”

* * *

“Hey, Ahn,” Xander said softly from the doorway. “How are you feeling?”

Anya let out a massive yawn. “Sleepy,” she blinked a couple of times before nestling down onto his bed once more. “Kinda achy, too.”

Xander frowned. The past two weeks had been great - the best of his life, in fact. He and Anya had hit it off as soon as he’d gotten back as if the break had never occurred. He’d actually been worried at first that maybe her baffling - to him, at least - interest in him would have passed over the holiday season, but she was the same funny, workaholic, orgasm-loving woman he’d left behind.

Which was why this latest turn of events had him so worried. “You don’t have a fever,” he commented, brushing her hair back from her forehead to feel her temperature. “At least…I don’t think so. Maybe I should ask Willow if she has a thermometer…”

“I’m fine,” Anya insisted with a hint of her old self-assuredness. “Just tired is all…”

“If you’re sure…” Xander began hesitantly.

He got a soft snore in response.

As silently as he could, he shut the door behind him, sparing a smile for Jonathan as he returned to his room from class. This was no good, Xander decided quickly. This was getting less and less of the good every day. So, Anya was tired. Plausible? Yes.

Or maybe it would have been if she hadn’t been in bed for three whole days…

* * *

The Blue Club, as it was fondly called by the population of the College of New York, had seen this all a thousand times before. It wasn’t really surprising for a place where depressed students went to get drunk, dance, or just scream loudly into the microphone on stage. There was a reason the Club’s sterile, college-sponsored, generic name was known by none, and instead a color to describe the dismal mood of the student body during the cold, claustrophobic days of winter had taken its place.

However, the sight in the Blue Club tonight was not of the dismal sort, although many prominent examples could be seen throughout the large Friday-night crowds. What was taking place wasn’t the callous drowning of sorrows but a slow and meticulously planned seduction. A hunt, actually, with all the deadly connotations contained therein…

“Hey.” Veruca’s svelte body seemed to waver, almost as if it would be blown away by the slightest gust of wind. Her body language was odd, off-centered, as if something were awry deep inside, yet at the same time mesmerizing, like a coiled cobra ready to strike.

“Hey.” Oz unplugged his guitar, oblivious that this time around it was finally his turn.

“You headed out then?” Veruca’s question was innocent enough, but there was nothing innocent in those dark eyes surrounded by black rings of mascara.

“Yeah,” Oz agreed. “Busy life.”

“A man of few words,” she responded with a coy smile. “I like that.”

A slight furrow of Oz’s brow indicated that he was contemplating her, her existence, her actions, her very place in the universe. Whatever conclusion he came to never made it to his calm demeanor, however.

“If you wanted to…?” Veruca began, leaving the question open-ended.

There was something so tempting in the words that not even Oz could resist. “What?” he asked, a note of curiosity in his voice.

“The night’s young,” she answered mysteriously, her body flowing like a silky liquid as she sat on the edge of the stage beside him. “We could, y’know…do something.”

Such a seemingly innocuous beginning.

“Cool,” he nodded in affirmative.

Something deep and dark flashed in her eyes. “Great,” she agreed, a half-smile lighting up her face. “You wanna head out, or…?” She pointed with her thumb towards the door.

Oz caught Devon’s eye for a second and gave him a quick good-bye wave. Devon just nodded absentmindedly and continued his conversation, not aware of what was to come.

“I love a cold winter night,” Veruca sighed as she and Oz strolled out of the Blue Club. “The complete silence and dark, the full moon overheard… It just makes you just want to…go wild…”

* * *

“Oh, honey, you look beat,” Tara said sympathetically as Willow practically trudged into her room and collapsed upon the bed.

“Remind me again what I was thinking when I decided that taking two labs back-to-back on a Friday was a good idea?” Willow asked rhetorically.

“That you were a psycho masochist?” Tara teased lightly.

Willow barely managed to crack a smile before she began rubbing her temples.

“Headache?” Tara asked, concerned. In an instant, she’d closed her well-worn tome of Hemingway and was giving her girlfriend a little shoulder massage.

“Ah…” Willow sighed in relief at the feel of Tara’s healing touch. “You just saved my life.”

“It’s almost ten,” Tara pointed. “Lab really ran that late?”

“Later,” Willow admitted. “I managed to sneak out of the clean-up. I’m thinking maybe I should drop or audit or something…”

“I thought you needed two more lab classes to graduate,” Tara pointed out.

Willow sighed. “Damn you with your logic,” she joked lightly, feeling better under the other woman’s caresses. “So, what exciting things did I miss while I was in The Lab That Would Not End?”

Tara giggled into her hand, brushing aside the locks on dishwater brown hair that had gotten in her face as she did so. “It sounds like one of those really bad horror movies that Xander and Spike watch,” she decided.

“Except those movies are far less painful to watch,” Willow added.

“That bad, huh?” Tara gave her a quick peck on the lips.

“Yeah.” Willow gave her big, soulful puppy-dog eyes and earned herself another kiss for her troubles.

“That make it better?” Tara asked softly.

Willow pretended to frown. “Don’t know. Try it again,” she teased.

Tara rolled her eyes and flopped back down on the bed. “You got an e-mail from Faith,” she delivered the only exciting piece of news that had happened while Willow was gone.

“Ooh!” Willow exclaimed excitedly. “What’d she say?”

“I don’t know,” Tara looked over her shoulder at her girlfriend with a coy smile. “Unlike some people, I don’t go around reading other people’s e-mail…”

Willow stuck her tongue out in response to that and double-clicked on the message. “Not coming back this semester,” she summarized the message. “Not surprising given that she’s not, y’know, back… Out of rehab, though. Been clean for three months…”

“Good for her,” Tara said with a smile, reading over Willow’s shoulder. “Ooh, not living with her psycho mom, either.”

“Maybe she’ll come back next year,” Willow agreed. “She sounds better.”

“It must be tough having to deal with classes on top of all that other crap,” Tara agreed.

“Especially with her mom being all freaky,” Willow agreed.

“Like your mom didn’t freak?” Tara pointed out.

“Like your whole family didn’t freak?”

“My whole family didn’t need to freak, they are freaks…and not in the good way.” Tara shuddered slightly.

“Here’s to casting aside psycho families!” Willow exclaimed, collapsing back down on the bed and closing her eyes.

“We’re staying in for tonight, I take it?” Tara observed with a little smile.

“I’m dead,” Willow agreed with a sigh, pulling the blanket over her. “Damn, how am I going to survive this year?”

“You’ll find a way,” Tara said confidently. “You always do…”

* * *

“I love you.”

Elizabeth sighed in a deeply contented manner and snuggled back into the arms of the naked man who had just spoken. At that moment, she felt like she would never need anything again as long as this would never end. She was whole, complete, loved…

“How can you tell?” she asked curiously, finally responding to his admission.

He shrugged against her back so that she could feel it. “Just know,” he insisted. Long, deft fingers brushed her hair aside, exposing the soft curve of her neck to his tender kisses. “Just sorta…slips up on you, y’know?”

Reluctantly, she turned in his arms so that she could face him. She wanted to look at him while they discussed this, and then hopefully she’d be able to figure out what cosmic change had occurred to have made Spike first whisper those fervent words to her two weeks back.

“Tell me about it,” she requested softly, her fingers gently tracing the scar on his eyebrow.

His eyelids shut in response, a simple defensive technique to prevent her from seeing the vulnerability within him. It was in moments like these that he was the most unsure about whether he should have told her about the depths of his feelings. She hadn’t reciprocated his words; she had claimed that she wouldn’t say them until she knew for certain what love really was. He could understand that, given the way she’d been hurt so badly…

“Teach me,” she whispered against his lips.

He sighed and opened his eyes, allowing her to see the unfathomable emotions that swirled about in their depths. She gasped in response, and he smiled before leaning in to brush his lips slowly across hers.

“Being with you…” he began. “’S indescribable. Like everythin’ else’ll be all right as long as you’re with me. ‘m drawn to you, Summers, a part of you. Just the thought of tryin’ to go on without you…it’d be like a part of me was missin’…”

“It’s not the great sex, then?” she teased lightly.

He chuckled softly. “You make me laugh,” he added in a whisper, and her fingers traced his lips as he spoke, “and you make me burn. You infuriate me and delight me and drive me near mad at times.”

“Insanity equals love?” She raised one suspicious eyebrow.

The deep timbre of his laugh echoed throughout his room. “C’mere,” he purred seductively, pulling her over so that she lay on top of him. He looked down at where her head was cradled against his chest and let out a contented sigh. “Just want this to last forever,” he finally decided.

“Yeah, my plans kinda include forever, too,” she agreed. “Is that love?”

“Does it feel like it?” he asked curiously, hopefully…

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “How do you…?” She let the question trail off. “I don’t know if I’ve ever really loved anybody before,” she finally admitted shakily. “My family’s…tolerable at best, and I’ve never…” She felt somehow embarrassed by this admission, dirty.

Spike frowned and tried to explain it. “You just feel somethin’ deep down inside, and you can’t place it for the longest time. And then, one day, you ask yourself ‘is it love?’ an’ the answer’s a resoundin’ ‘yes!’,” was the best he could come up with.

“I think I’ve got a hodge-podgey ‘I have no clue’,” she sighed in response.

“But forever, huh?” He clung to the good.

“Forever,” she agreed with a soft smile, placing a light kiss on his chest. “So,” she perked up slightly as she transitioned onto a lighter topic, “whattaya wanna do this summer?”

“Depends,” he pointed out. “Spent the last summer here, so generally ‘d head off to England this year. But if we’re gonna get an apartment…”

“If we got an apartment, then we’d move out of the dorm next year,” she pointed out.

“That would be the plan,” he agreed. “S’pose we could sublet for the summer ‘f we wanted ta come back…”

“Do you wanna come back?” she asked curiously, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” she admitted with a shy smile. “I’d kinda miss the guys, y’know?”

“I would, too,” he agreed with a relieved smile of his own. “So we’re comin’ back to Westing next year?”

“Definitely,” Elizabeth nodded. “You’ll be able to get this room again, right?”

“Can’t imagine Anya or Cordy tryin’ to steal it from us,” he put her fears to rest. “’specially given all the action the bed’s gotten,” he added with a wry smirk.

“Don’t be so sure,” she warned. “Cordy’s stuck with Faith’s room right now, which is smaller and has a mattress with an equally shady history.”

“Yeah, but Cordy’s a weepy romantic at heart who would never rob us of our li’l love nest,” Spike teased.

“Maybe we should resort to bribery,” Elizabeth decided with a little giggle. “When do we choose rooms?”

“May. We’ve got plenty of time…” he assured her.

“Good,” she decided. “So, you’re going to England, then?”

“Only if you are,” he insisted.

“Hmmm,” she sighed. “Definite possibilities there…”

“Don’t hafta decide just yet,” he pointed out.

“Okay,” she agreed with a lazy smile.

“Uh, pet?” he said uncomfortably after a moment.

“Yeah?” She looked up at him in surprise and concern.

“You’re not as light as you look.” He gestured to where she was sprawled entirely on top of his body.

She frowned. “I’ll move, but only on the condition that I get quality cuddling time,” she demanded.

“Like tha’s not what I had in mind anyway.” He rolled his eyes. “Plus,” he added with a wicked gleam in his eyes, “’s your birthday, luv. Which means ‘m yours…” He leaned in close so that he could whisper the next part in her ear, his voice deep and husky. “Any. Way. You. Want me…”

A feminine thrill ran up and down her spine at that. “Mmm, my Spike,” she said with an evil little smile. “Just the way I like ‘em…” She finally rolled off of him to lie at his side, and he let out an audible gasp of relief. “Quality spoon time,” she reminded him.

Instantly, he was pressed up against her back. “Like this?” he inquired, fingers flitting ephemerally over heated flesh as the soft contours of her body molded to the hardness of his chest.

“Mmm…” she agreed with a contented sigh. Her own caresses grazed across his strong arms as they lay together.

He shut his eyes and let his forehead brush the golden silk of her hair, wishing fervently that this evening would never end…

“Do you think I should get my bellybutton pierced?”

“What?!” It was such a random question that he couldn’t help to complete shock out of his voice.

She pouted. “You don’t think it would be sexy?” she demanded.

“You’re serious?” he asked in surprise.

“Not really,” she sighed, fingering her navel lightly. “I just figure that piercings are fun to play with, and if I had one-”

The tip of his thumb flicked across the small depression. “There’re more direct ways of tellin’ me how you want me to touch you,” he commented.

“I think I’ll save the ‘oh, Spike, fill me with your humongous cock!’ statements for Anya,” Elizabeth retorted. “Plus, it’s fun to confuse you.”

“Humongous?” he repeated with barely concealed delight.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “God, you are such a…a…guy,” she finally decided.

“No arguin’ with that,” he practically purred, pressing his hardness into the soft curve of her ass for emphasis.

“Well, you do kinda have the questionable sexuality thing going on with the black nail-polish,” she pretended to seriously consider this statement. “And then there’s the whole earring thing. Not to mention the lack of body hair.” Her finger trailed down the smooth center of his chest. “What’s with that, anyway? I thought British guys were supposed to be, like, ultra-hairy or something… Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Just got lucky and ended up extra-sexy,” he retorted, turning her slightly so that he could hover over her. “And you know ‘m all man, luv, so don’t even pretend-”

“Less talk, more action,” she demanded. “’Cause, y’know, actions speak louder than words.”

“Got me there,” he agreed with a chuckle before sliding down her body.

“Spike?” she frowned and blinked. “What are you-oh!”

“Figured that cute bellybutton ‘f yours was lookin’ for a bit more attention,” he retorted with a wry grin. “But if you want me to stop…”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she ordered, pulling him down against her once more…

Disclaimer & Author's Note: The usual.

Blue Horizons
Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Maybe ‘s one of those plastic rings they put around the tops ‘f milk cartons?” Spike suggested hesitantly, his nose scrunched up in distaste.

“But it’s white,” Tara pointed. “Aren’t the milk rings usually blue or yellow?”

“Depends on the brand,” Willow pointed out. “But they usually have that plastic ribbing on them…”

“There’s the ribbin’ right there,” Spike cautiously pointed at the object in question.

Tara shook her head. “I still say it’s an onion,” she insisted.

“Try stabbing it with a fork,” Elizabeth suggested helpfully. “Maybe it’ll help identify…that.”

The group of college students continued to contemplate the mystery item on Xander’s plate for another minute before Xander finally shrugged, speared the unknown substance with his fork, and ate it.

“How does it taste?” Willow asked anxiously.

“Bland. Tasteless. Like everything else on my plate,” Xander responded unhelpfully.

Four sets of shoulders slumped. “Now we can’t even obtain more empirical data to identify it,” Willow complained.

“Identify the mystery items on your own tray,” Xander retorted. “I’m trying to eat.”

Willow sighed at gestured to a yellow thing. “Whattaya think?” she asked Tara. “Squash?”

Spike chuckled as the seemingly endless game continued before eyeing what could have been a mushroom on his own plate carefully and finally daring to eat it. “Why does the food always get ten-times worse in the winter?” he wondered.

“Because the entire universe is conspiring against us to make this as miserable an experience as possible,” Elizabeth informed him cheerfully, giving him a quick pat on the knee.

“There’s my li’l optimist,” he teased lightly, pushing aside the ‘stir-fry’ in disgust. “’m off to find somethin’ actually edible,” he announced, making a brief departure from the table.

“So, Xander,” Willow turned to the unusually silent member of their party, “how’s Anya doing?”

Xander sighed. “I finally convinced her to go to Student Health today. Had to borrow Oz’s van to get her there.”

“Are we thinking mono?” Tara asked sympathetically.

“She’s been pretty much dead for a week now,” Xander agreed. “Of course, there’s lots of other possibilities…”

“If it’s mono, they can get her on antibiotics fast,” Willow assured him. “It still might take a while, but, hey, could be worse, right?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Elizabeth said in a kind voice, feeling her friend’s distress.

“She’s so gonna freak when she realizes how many classes she’s missed.” Xander shook his head. “I don’t envy her having to make all that up…”

“She can take incompletes and finish her requirements this summer,” Willow assured him. “Professors are cool about that sort of thing. Especially if you’re really sick.”

“Still, that’s rough,” Elizabeth sighed, swirling the yogurt in her bowl around absentmindedly.

“What’s rough?” Cordy’s voice broke into the conversation as she sat down on the table, tray in hand.

“Anya might have mono,” Xander provided.

“That is rough,” Cordy agreed with a frown. “Sorry to hear that. Especially since it makes my own pain trivial.”

“Would that be the pain of stealin’ my seat?” Spike commented, scowling at where Cordy had intentionally pushed his tray to the side. Not that he minded being cramped up closer to Elizabeth, mind you. It was just the principle of the thing.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “No, that would be the pain of my latest theater project. C’mon,” she cast dangerous eyes across the table, “who wants to help me?”

Spike nervously sat in the seat between her and Elizabeth and gulped slightly. “What would we ‘afta do?” he asked warily.

“William, William, William,” Cordelia patted his hand in a loving manner, “I just know you want to volunteer to help perform my skit in front of the class…”

“Luv?” he turned promptly to Elizabeth. “Mind if we switch seats so Cordy can’t reach my parts when I tell ‘er ‘no’?”

Cordelia sulked. “You are such a prude,” she sighed.

“Oi now!” Spike defended himself. “’ll do anythin’ you want…just not in front ‘f an audience…”

“Where’s Oz?” Cordy turned towards more hopeful avenues. “He usually caves in.” She turned to Xander. “Unless you’re willing to…?” She batted her eyelashes at him a couple of times just for good measure.

“Uh, what would I be doing?” Xander was doing a remarkably accurate imitation of Spike’s ‘deer caught in headlights’ look from earlier.

“It’s just an ad-lib conversation thing,” Cordelia assured him, setting her sights immediately on the easier prey.

“Whoa! ‘Ad-lib’?” Xander repeated in horror.

“I’d be doing most of the ad-libbing,” Cordy insisted. “You just have to play along. It’ll be tons of fun.”

“Um…you know I’ve never done anything like this before, right?” Xander felt obliged to point out.

Cordy waved one hand in the air dismissively. “It’s not like anyone else has, either. It’s just an exercise in script adaptation - something I need to work on if I ever want to be a director. Please?” She batted the long, thick eyelashes once more.

Xander looked around for help but found his friends too busy fleeing the potential acting part. “Yeah, why not?” he finally agreed reluctantly. “After all, I’ll have a lot of free-time while Anya’s out…”

“Wonderful!” Cordelia exclaimed in delight. “We can start practicing this weekend. Are you free Saturday afternoon?”

“Uh, sure.” Xander shifted in his seat uncomfortably when he realized what he’d agreed to.

Spike chuckled. “I pity you, mate,” he said in obvious delight that it hadn’t been him this time around.

“Don’t make me hurt you.” Xander narrowed his eyes in Spike’s direction and brandished another onion-plastic-like item on his fork in the other’s man direction. “I have mystery, radioactive dining hall food in my arsenal.”

“It’s radioactive now?” Cordy asked curiously, studying her own stir-fry. “Wow, I’m amazed that they were even competent enough to accomplish that…”

While she studied her plate, a faux-onion flew over her head, impacting with the side of Spike’s arm. Several carrots went in the other direction before she sat back up and noticed the snickering faces of those around her.

“What?” she demanded, baffled.

The snickering continued.

“Where is Oz, anyway?” Willow desperately tried to salvage what little maturity was left in the group. “I haven’t seen him for a few days now.”

“He’s been spendin’ all his time down at the Club,” Spike provided. “S’pose he gets bored in that room all by ‘imself what with Devon off interviewin’ this weekend…”

“I still can’t believe he made it to an interview with the New York Times!” Cordy sighed. “I am so jealous right about now…”

“You took one journalism course your first year and you hated it,” Spike pointed out.

“But, still!” Cordy insisted. “New York Times? How amazing is that?”

“Too bad Oz isn’t here to say the obligatory monotone ‘amazing’,” Elizabeth joked.

“Rumor has it,” Tara leaned in conspiratorially, “that he’s got a girlfriend.”

Several surprised looks turned her way in response.

“Oz?” Willow said in surprise. “And I didn’t know about it? And how did you hear about it?” She actually sounded a bit hurt by this. After all, she and Oz had been best friends since orientation.

“H-He didn’t say anything,” Tara quickly reassured her. “It’s just he’s been hanging around at the Blue Club almost all the time lately, and Devon mentioned that there was this girl that was coming onto him…”

“Oh yeah,” Spike nodded. “What was her name again? Vicuña?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Veruca,” she corrected him. “A Vicuña is a llama-like creature.”

Spike shrugged disinterestedly. “’S still a bloody ridiculous name.”

“So speaks the guy named ‘Spike’?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief.

“You’re one to talk, Bu-”

“Don’t you dare say it!” she snapped, cutting him off in horror.

“I won’t,” he assured her quickly, picking up on her concern. “I just-”

“Never mind.” She brushed his hand from her shoulder and picked up her glass of orange juice. “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

There was an uncomfortable silence at the table for a few minutes while everyone turned back to their food and tried not to notice the worry on Spike’s face or the anger on Elizabeth’s.

“I was going to ask if the usual winter depression has hit yet,” Cordelia finally spoke up, “but Elizabeth’s and Spike’s domestic issues have neatly answered my question.”

Several annoyed looks turned in her direction.

“What?” she demanded defensively. “It’s what everyone was thinking!”

“Uh, yeah…” Elizabeth was blushing slightly at the reference. She wasn’t all that mad at Spike, actually. It’s just that this was something private that they really couldn’t resolve in front of this huge audience. Under the table, she gave his thigh a little squeeze, and his shoulders immediately relaxed in response.

“So, Willow,” Xander decided to break the icy silence, “when’s the next lab tutorial?”

Willow groaned. “Friday,” she provided. “God, will someone just kill Carl already and put us all out of our misery?” She banged her head on the table for effect, and Tara patted her shoulder reassuringly.

“What’s this, then?” Spike asked curiously, sparing a small smile for Elizabeth first.

She smiled back.

Willow entered rant mode. “Ugh! Carl’s the other TA for bio 130s this semester. And he’s totally, completely incompetent! It’s like I have to do triple the work just to make up for his idiocy!”

“It’s pretty bad,” Xander agreed ruefully. “Like, he tried to explain the Kreb’s Cycle last week and began to discuss the Carbon Cycle in excruciating detail for about fifteen minutes before Willow finally managed to interrupt him and inform him that he was answering the wrong question. And his even his description of the Carbon Cycle was all messed up.”

“How do these people qualify as TAs?” Willow wanted to know. “This guy couldn’t even get 1+0 right!”

“Literally,” Xander backed her up. “He said it was 0. And then he wrote 1x0=1 right next to it. Like, I get that he wasn’t exactly paying attention to what he was writing…but still!”

“He always grades the homework all screwy, too,” Willow shuddered. “It would be easier if I just did it all myself…”

“Poor baby,” Tara cooed sympathetically.

“And some lucky people,” Xander cast an accusing eye in Elizabeth’s direction, “quit bio this quarter so they don’t even have to deal with this crap.”

“Hey, I’m no fool,” Elizabeth said smugly. “Hell like I was going to write anymore of those twenty page lab reports.”

“I take it a career in the sciences is not for you, then?” Tara teased lightly.

“Dear gods, no!” Elizabeth agreed enthusiastically. “And, given my calculus problem sets, I’m seriously considering fleeing to the humanities right now.”

“Econ has lots of problem sets,” Cordelia commented. “If you suck at them so much, then maybe you shouldn’t be an econ major.”

Stunned silence once more.

“What?!”

“You’re positive she and Anya aren’t twins separated at birth?” Elizabeth teased.

Cordy huffed. “Anya’s into money; I’m into theater. And all of her inappropriate comments are about sex, whereas mine are scathing personal critiques. I mean, we’re two completely different people. Hello?!” The smile on her face indicated that she was more amused than anything, though.

Willow chuckled at that before turning back to Elizabeth. “Are you taking econ this semester?” she asked curiously.

“Dear gods, no,” Elizabeth said with a little smile. “Calculus is more math than anyone should have to handle at once.”

“Your dad’s good with this?” Tara asked in surprise. “I got the impression that he was kinda…”

“Nazi?” Elizabeth suggested helpfully.

“I wasn’t gonna say in unless you were,” Tara agreed with an amused smile.

Elizabeth laughed in response.

“So, you managed to convert the Nazi yet?” Willow added with a grin.

A guilty look crossed Elizabeth’s face at that.

“She’s gettin’ through this semester on the ‘lying to dad about classes’ technique,” Spike supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, I kinda glossed over the fact that I’m taking two visual arts classes,” Elizabeth admittedly ruefully. “It’s part of my larger strategy of lying that I’m not seriously considering being a visual arts major…”

“Your dad doesn’t approve?” Cordy asked, following the conversation intently.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Elizabeth agreed.

A wicked grin crossed Cordy’s face. “Screw him,” she instructed.

Elizabeth blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Screw him,” Cordelia repeated. “My parents tried to boss me around, too. So I just went nyah-nyah, declared myself a theater major, and let them squirm in their garish, stuffy old mansion.”

“Wow,” Elizabeth sighed. “Can you be, like, my role-model?”

Cordelia grinned. “Only five things you need to know. 1) College is about learning in general, not about learning how to do some job. 2) Even if your degree is completely worthless, you can still get some job at a 7/11 after you’ve graduated and then go to vocational school. 3) College is about what you want, not what your parents want. You’ve left home; it’s their job to deal with it. 4) College students have enough stress as it is getting through college without cow towing to pushy parents. So ignore them. 5) Scotch guard is excellent for waterproofing cardboard boxes, should you ever have to live in one. And, there’s free wireless Internet access in Central Park.”

“Ah, the only things a true nerdy CofNY student needs,” Xander sighed wistfully.

Everyone laughed.

“Did you really tell your parents about the homeless park bit?” Tara asked curiously.

“Why do you think they’re still agreeing to pay my tuition?” Cordy agreed. “Once they found out that I’d actually done all the research…” She affected a deep voice in mock-imitation of her father. “ ‘The Chases can endure the shame of allowing one of their own to become an actress, just so long as the newspapers never find out that she lived in a cardboard box’.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “Wonder if that one would work on my dad,” she sighed.

“If not, go for the rich eccentric aunt,” Cordy advised. “That was my back-up plan.”

“My mom was the eccentric,” Elizabeth grimaced, “marrying ‘new money’. Got me jack-squat inheritance, too.”

“What?” Spike said in mock-horror. “And here I was datin’ you for your supposed millions!”

Elizabeth swatted his arm playfully. “Jerk,” she grumbled.

His eyes instantly softened into what she had labeled the ‘kicked puppy-dog look’, and she remembered that he was probably still worried that she was pissed about that little nickname he had almost let slip. She reassured him with a coy smile, and her foot slid up his calf under the table.

His eyes widened, and a sly smirk lit up his face. He casually nodded in the direction of upstairs, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes. OK, so maybe she should let him stew in the fear that she was upset with him for a while longer…

The hurt puppy-dog look was back. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Now she knew he was doing that on purpose…

“So, how is that short story collection of yours coming?” Xander asked Tara, drawing Elizabeth’s attention away from her boyfriend’s yummy lower lip and back to the conversation at hand.

“Good,” Tara agreed. “I’ve only got about three more to go, so I should be done ahead of schedule.”

“That’s my girl,” Willow said proudly. “On top of everything as usual.”

“On top of everything?” Tara’s cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t help but tease Willow a bit.

Willow’s - and everyone else at the table’s - eyes widened in surprise. Much blushing and stuttering occurred, even from Spike and Cordelia. After all, it wasn’t every day that Tara stunned everyone speechless.

“What, you makin’ the risqué comments for Anyanka while she’s sick?” Spike finally managed to sputter.

Tara gave him an evil grin. “And judging by the lovely maroon shade of your face, I’d say I’m succeeding,” she agreed shamelessly.

Elizabeth laughed when Spike’s face reddened further. “Poor baby,” she cooed, patting his soft, peroxide curls affectionately.

He debated whether to scowl at her or take advantage of the lovely opportunity offered him to bury his face in her shoulder when two surprising new arrivals completely distracted him from his quandary.

“Hi guys,” Jonathan’s voice practically squeaked as he sat down at the table.

His companion looked even more nervous, if that were possible, and practically dropped his tray on the table before sitting in the seat beside Jonathan. “Hey,” the blond said with an embarrassed chuckle before ducking his head shyly and quickly focusing on his food.

The table blinked in unison at the odd phenomenon.

“Hi,” Willow said back with a bright smile, “I’m Willow.”

Jonathan and his friend both looked up. They exchanged a glance for a second, and there was a bit of pointed staring and eyeball rolling in some bizarre communication that only the two of them understood before Jonathan finally let out a weary sigh.

“This is Andrew,” he provided.

“You’re a friend ‘f Jonathan’s, then?” Spike inquired, tilting his head to one side as he studied the newcomer.

Andrew looked up at him, blushed horribly, and muttered something under his breath that maybe could’ve been “yeah.” He promptly turned back to his tray, and he and Jonathan exchanged a couple of whispered comments.

“How about you, Spike?” Xander decided to start up the conversation again to save the pair across the table from him any further embarrassment. “Has this fine, evil institution been treating you well?”

Spike chuckled at that. “’S amazin’ how much less painful everythin’ is when you don’t go to class,” he advised.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “How on earth have you managed not to flunk out yet?” she demanded.

“’S all a matter of managin’ your time best, ducks,” he informed her. “You figure out which classes you can skip without missin’ anything from the readings.”

“Or you can just not do the readings, but attend class,” Xander pointed out wisely.

“Or you can not do both,” Spike commented. “Hypothetically speakin’, o’ course.” He quickly amended off of the several dangerous glares he was getting. “Trick is to pick whichever option takes the least amount ‘f time.” He sighed satisfactorily and slipped his arm over the back of Elizabeth’s chair.

She was, oh, so tempted to give his chair a strategic little shove while he tilted back precariously like that but decided to restrain her impulse for the moment. “If you’ve got free-time, you’re perfectly welcome to do my calculus homework for me,” she offered.

“I get anythin’ in return?” he asked with a lascivious smile.

“A headache?” Elizabeth suggested. “That’s what I always get.”

“What calc class are you taking?” Jonathan nervously spoke up.

“Just regular,” she sighed. “But my TA’s lack of knowledge of the English language might as well make it honor’s calc in Swahili.”

“Thought he was German?” Spike inquired, one eyebrow raised.

“Whatever.”

“What’re you doing?” Jonathan asked. “’Cause if you’re having problems…”

“You know how to do delta-epsilon proofs?” she demanded.

Andrew scrunched up his nose. “Those suck,” he provided. “Waste of time.”

“See? Someone else has some commonsense,” Elizabeth gestured to Andrew.

He gave her a nervous smile before his eyes quickly flicked back over to Spike again and then down to the table.

“You ever want any help…” Jonathan began hesitantly.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Elizabeth assured him. “’Cause me and math? Completely unmixy.”

He shrugged and turned back to his food.

“Thanks for offering, though,” she quickly amended. “And I’ll stop by if I’m in real trouble.” Now she just felt bad. Jonathan had been opening up a bit more before break, but now he seemed as solitary as ever. Well, except for this mysterious friend of his that he’d somehow picked up.

“Yeah, I’m pretty much always in my room,” Jonathan agreed with the beginnings of a shy smile.

“Cool,” Elizabeth agreed, dropping her empty water glass down on her tray with a note of finality. “You done?” she asked Spike.

“No, I thought ‘d observe the stir-fry some more an’ see if it moves by itself,” he retorted sarcastically, gesturing to where he’d shoved his tray into the center of the table in a fit of pique.

“Honey, stop being obnoxious and crabby,” Elizabeth teased, ruffling his hair as she got up.

Spike followed her a few seconds later in a flurry of black leather. “Ta, all,” he nodded to the group.

“See everyone after my problem session from hell,” Elizabeth agreed. “Tell Anya I hope she feels better soon,” she added for Xander’s benefit before moving off to bus her tray.

“Y’know,” Spike commented, waiting for her by the door after she was done, “I woulda thought that all the pointless gossip would stop after the horror that was high school…”

“But it’s way too much fun to stop,” Elizabeth retorted, linking her arm through his as they walked across campus. “Plus, you don’t think they gossip about us nonstop whenever we’re not around?”

He chuckled at that. “Undoubtedly,” he agreed. He paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts before he spoke. “You’re not mad at me?” he began hesitantly.

She pulled him to a halt and rose up on her toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He pulled her up against him in response, and they savored the taste of the other’s lips for a minute before pulling apart and heading towards the math building once more.

“That feel like I’m mad?” she asked rhetorically.

He grinned. “I am sorry ‘bout mentionin’-” he began.

“Don’t worry about it,” she insisted.

“I mean, I know you don’t exactly want everyone to know-”

“I said ‘don’t worry about it’!” she exclaimed in exasperation.

“And now you’re mad at me again,” he practically whimpered.

“Argh! I’m not mad at-” she began, clutching her hair before she giggled. “God, you have to be the most irritating man alive,” she decided.

“And you know you love it,” he retorted, rolling his tongue up beneath his front teeth in a suggestive manner.

She merely rolled her eyes, shook her head, and entered the math building.

A moment’s thought, and then Spike decided that he really had nothing better to do this hour than crash Elizabeth’s problem session as well…

Disclaimer & Author's Note: The usual.

Blue Horizons
Chapter Thirty

“Art, by its very nature, encompasses an infinite combination of meanings and expressions,” Joyce Devereux lectured, sitting on the table before the row of glass planes that lined one side of the studio. “It comments on the individual and the society, the viewer, the subject matter, and the observer. On it’s most fundamental level, art is not something that can be taught. It is seen, observed, and interpreted over and over again, yet there is no ‘right answer’. Life is art, and art is life. It brings chaos to order, and order to chaos. It is emotional, logical, and spiritual. Literal and representative. And this will our focus for the rest of the semester…”

* * *

Oz woke up to a blinding bright light and instantly wished that he hadn’t. His head was throbbing, and there was a nasty taste in his mouth, and was he…naked?

He sat up with a start and looked around in confusion. He appeared to be in some sort of closet or storeroom…maybe a basement of some sort. He blinked a couple of times, hoping that that would clear out his memory and help he remember how on earth he’d gotten here. No such luck.

And, at that moment, the figure beside him stirred, drawing his attention to her for the first time. “’Morning, lover,” Veruca practically growled as she stretched out in a contented manner.

A look of mild panic crossed Oz’s face as he tried to remember anything that had happened last night. It was still a complete haze, however. “Where are we?” he asked with deceptive calmness, gesturing to the storage bins that lined one wall.

Veruca gave him a coy smile and ran her hands sensuously through her hair. “Wow, you were really out of it last night, huh?” she commented, her tone obviously delighted by this fact.

Oz quickly turned away from the sight of her bare breasts and began searching for his clothes.

“Now, now,” Veruca practically cooed, “don’t get all prudish on me this morning. Especially not after how wild last night was…”

Oz’s shoulders stiffened at the obvious implications of what had happened. Not that he wasn’t attracted to Veruca; he was, but he didn’t like this whole waking up in some random closet with a naked woman and not knowing how he got here. “Where are we?” he repeated.

Veruca let out a peal of laughter that sounded hollow and empty in the small room. “Richter,” she said simply, mirth still dancing in her eyes.

Oz frowned in confusion.

“Richter?” she clarified. “Social sciences building?”

His eyes widened in response. “How did-?”

“Broke the basement window and picked the lock,” she provided. “You really don’t remember any of this?”

“Nothing,” he insisted, slipping on his pants.

A lazy smile lit up her face. “Well, that’s even more exciting, isn’t it?”

“I’ve missed class,” he commented, checking his watch.

Veruca batted one hand in the air dismissively. “After what we did last night, that’s the least of your worries.”

He looked back to where she still lay nude on the floor. She looked feral like that, hair curtaining her face, dark-lined eyes and scattered tattoos that looked like they belonged to some ancient tribe. An involuntary shiver ran up his spine in response.

“Look, about us-”

She cut him off with another of those hyena laughs. “What’s done is done,” she said simply, rising to her feet and sauntering over to where her jeans had been flung into the corner. “Not to mention fun. But I’m not going to freak if that was just the drugs talking.”

He frowned. “Then-”

She slipped her blouse over her head in one smooth motion, toeing on her shoes as she did so. “We go our separate ways, then,” she agreed with a wink. “And, maybe, the police don’t find us.”

Oz’s eyes widened comically. “What?!” he exclaimed in horror for perhaps the first time ever…

* * *

“Now, I know that some of you like to paint self-portraits, and some of you like more abstract subject-matter, and some prefer nature,” Joyce went on outlining the project. “No matter what technique you choose, it’s still possible to express the range of human emotion. Art is about beauty and humanity and making the audience really think. There are infinite variations on the human condition, and exploring them through artwork provides a means to understand others and yourself as well…”

* * *

“Cheetos,” Xander announced proudly.

“Junk.” Cordelia scrunched her nose up.

“Food,” Xander amended.

“Drink.”

“Cola.”

“Sugar.”

“Yummy.”

“Childish.”

“Games.”

“Work.”

“School.”

“Computer.”

“Cheetos.”

Cordelia scowled at him. “Cheetos?” she repeated incredulously. “You already said that.”

“Ah, but Cheetos are the answer to all life’s questions,” Xander said sagely, grabbing a handful of the cheesy goodness from the bag he had been munching out of and crunching on them merrily.

“But Cheetos don’t have anything to do with computers!” Cordelia insisted.

“Sure they do,” Xander insisted, holding one Cheeto out as a pointer as he elaborated. “Computers imply computer nerds. And what do computer nerds eat?” He popped the Cheeto into his mouth.

Cordelia shook her head and smiled. “You’re deranged,” she announced.

“It’s the Cheetos,” he explained. “They warp your mind.”

Cordelia giggled. “That’s going in the script,” she decided, quickly scrambling for her notes and writing Xander’s Cheeto-related truisms down.

“Oh yeah, that’s high-quality material,” he agreed with a sigh, leaning his chair back against the wall of the library study room.

“You’re right. I never could have come up with any that ridiculous myself,” Cordy retorted, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Xander flashed her a wide grin. “Hey, at least my idiocy is worth something for once…”

“What you call ‘idiocy’, my professors will call ‘creativity’,” Cordy laughed. “So, are you ready to go another round?”

“Just try and stop me,” Xander agreed with a grin.

“Paper.”

“Death Star.”

“What?!” Cordelia exclaimed in complete bewilderment.

“Cheetos,” Xander responded with a grin…

* * *

“Some common themes in the past have been listed on the assignment sheet,” Joyce announced.

Elizabeth, along with all the other students in Visual Arts 102, scrambled for the paper in the question.

Joyce dimmed the lights and showed the first slide. “Uncertainty,” she began listing the themes together with the paintings they had inspired. “Joy… Happiness… Anxiety… Loneliness… Isolation…”

* * *

“You ready?” Jonathan asked.

Andrew wiped his sweaty palms on his pants before picking up his tray. He took one step forward and then… “Are you sure we hafta do this?” he pleaded.

Jonathan sighed. “They were nice last time,” he reminded his friend. “Remember?”

“Yeah…” Andrew began hesitantly, “but Spike’s there and…”

“He won’t bite your head off,” Jonathan assured him. “He’s actually pretty cool.”

A dreamy look crossed Andrew’s face. “I’ll say,” he agreed.

Jonathan gave him a look, and Andrew immediately turned serious once more. “You ready now?” Jonathan repeated.

Andrew nodded nervously, and the two of them headed over to the Westing House table.

“’lo,” Spike looked up from the notes he had sprawled across the table.

Jonathan nudged Andrew.

“H-Hi,” Andrew greeted nervously.

Willow looked up from her own homework. “Andrew, right?” she said with a smile.

“R-Right.” Andrew managed a nervous smile before practically hiding his face in his tray.

“Did Elizabeth get her problem set done last night?” Jonathan ventured to ask.

Spike flashed him a thankful smile. “Turned it in bright an’ early this morning,” he assured him. “Said you were a godsend for helpin’ her with it.”

“Glad I could help,” Jonathan practically squeaked before turning to the important task of devouring his burger.

“W-What are you reading?” Andrew inquired.

Spike held up the cover so the two men across from him could see. “Dostoyevsky.”

“Geshunteit.”

Spike chuckled at that, and Andrew blushed.

“Uh…what about you, Willow?” Jonathan added.

“Only two lab reports due tomorrow,” the frazzled redhead answered, snatching up her calculator and frantically punching in numbers. “I can do this…”

“Ouch,” Andrew said sympathetically. “I once had a paper, a lab, and a problem set due on the same night as the Babylon 5 movie and-” He cut off with an almost-yelp, face flaming.

“You should hear Xander go on ‘bout that show…” Spike commented with a roll of his eyes. “Completely obsessed, he is.”

“It’s only the greatest sci-fi epic ever!” Andrew exclaimed in reply.

“What are you talking about?” Jonathan retorted. “Deep Space Nine was-”

“Deep Space Nine was a complete rip-off,” Andrew countered.

“Hello? Star Trek preceded B5!”

“But DS9 stole the idea for multi-episode plot arcs from B5!”

“B5, like all sci-fi shows, is completely derivative of-”

Spike and Willow exchanged an amused glance as the argument escalated to epic proportions.

“Er, uh, yeah. So whattaya think, Spike?” Andrew asked hopefully, breaking the back-and-forth with Jonathan.

“Din’t watch either,” Spike replied apologetically.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Andrew sounded disappointed.

* * *

“Now, this may seem like the easiest assignment you’ll get in college,” Joyce went on. “After all, all you really have to do is a painting, or maybe a few. And, for those who are just in this class because they have to be-”

A couple of students nudged each other jokingly.

“-it will undoubtedly be nothing more.” A wicked smile lit up Joyce’s face then. “Just don’t come complaining to me when you don’t get the grade you wanted.”

Chuckles sounded throughout the room.

“However, I’m hoping this experience will be far more than a mere exercise in painting pretty pictures,” Joyce continued. “So much focus is placed upon assignments, papers, deadlines. You’re all required to study practically every field there is. And, in the midst of all that, often there just isn’t enough time for life.”

“Amen to that!” someone shouted out from the back of the room.

Joyce smiled in response. “This project will hopefully give you the opportunity to study something lacking in other classes - your feelings, hopes, dreams…yourself. This can be a very positive experience, if you’re just willing to take the time to make it one…”

* * *

Anya groaned and rolled over onto her back, blinking a few times before she felt the rumble in her stomach once more. “Xander?” she asked softly.

“Hey, there,” Tara’s soft voice answered her instead.

Anya blinked. “Where’s Xander?” she inquired a bit anxiously.

“He’s in class,” Tara assured her. “We’re all taking turns on Anya duty.”

Anya managed to nod slightly before rolling over onto her side. “Doctors said I have mono,” she provided sleepily.

“Yeah, I heard,” Tara agreed softly, brushing Anya’s hair back from her forehead. “Hey, no fever,” she pointed out.

Anya frowned, trying to break through the thick haze that surrounded her mind. “Do you get fevers with mono?” She couldn’t remember.

“The symptoms can vary a lot,” Tara provided. “But the absence of a fever is a good thing. The antibiotics should keep things from getting worse.”

Anya nodded against her pillow. “Thanks for, y’know, being here. I mean, I’m sure you’d rather be out with Willow right now…”

“Willow’s got too much for work to hang out with me anyway,” Tara assured her. “Besides, you’re my friend. I want to see you get better.”

Anya smiled at that. “Thanks…” she repeated.

“You want me to get you something to eat?” Tara offered. “You need to keep up whatever strength you have…”

“Last time I ate, I barfed into a paper bag afterwards.” Anya’s face twisted up in distaste. “It hurts my throat, too…”

“How about something light? Chicken broth?”

Anya’s stomach grumbled in response. “Sounds good,” she agreed with a yawn. “Just…I’m probably going to fall asleep again soon…”

“Instant,” Tara held out the soup packet proudly. “I’ll just go use the microwave. I should be back in a minute.”

Anya nodded, not wanting to be left alone that long but too tired to come up with any better solution. A sigh escaped her lips when she heard the door close behind Tara.

This. Sucked.

It was so unfair. She’d finally gotten herself a boyfriend, and she was all caught up in her classes for once, and she had been so looking forward to this semester, and now this. The worst thing was that she was barely even conscious enough to realize all that she was missing. She could only begin to guess what day it was. The alarm clock on her nightstand said that it was eight, but she had no idea if it was AM or PM or…

“You still awake?” Tara asked as she slipped back into the room.

Anya groaned and turned to face her. “Unfortunately,” she agreed. “I’ve been in bed so long, my muscles are starting to ache.”

Tara gave her a little smile and set the soup down on Anya’s desk before moving over to help her friend sit up in the bed. “You’ve been on the meds for over a week now,” she said hopefully. “The doctors said it should take two weeks, tops.”

“Another week,” Anya sighed wearily, leaning back against her pillows and yawning. “I’m fading fast,” she warned the other woman.

Tara handed her the bowl. “Eat whatever you can,” she pressed.

Anya sipped from several spoonfuls and managed to empty half the bowl before weariness overtook her. She handed the soup back to Tara with shaky hands.

“Can you hold on just long enough to take two pills?” Tara inquired.

Anya managed a numb nod and quickly down the medication Tara gave her together with half a glass of water.

“You’ll get better soon,” Tara assured her, lowering the pillows once more.

Anya snuggled down into them and was asleep against almost immediately.

“Poor baby,” Tara cooed softly, giving her shoulder a light squeeze before returning back to her homework…

* * *

“Like I said,” Joyce continued, “life is art. So, all you really have to do is find something that has real meaning for you, something that you find beautiful…”

* * *

She was struck speechless by the sight in front of her. She was confident that she was drooling all over, and she didn’t even care.

“Harmony!” Kathy exclaimed in exasperation. “Come on. I’ve still got to work off a thousand calories if I want my miracle diet to work.”

Harmony didn’t budge. She just continued to stare into the training room, drinking in the salty goodness before her.

Spike was working on one of the punching bags, wearing nothing more than a pair of baggy black sweats. As his fists and feet pounded into the bag rhythmically, taut muscles rippled beneath smooth, ivory skin, every move one of complete grace and power. A sheen of sweat covered his body as his jabs became more vigorous and he picked up his pace.

Harmony sighed contently as she watched one drop of sweat form at his forehead beneath tousled bleached curls before sliding slowly down the side of his brow, around the razor’s edge of one cheekbone, down the column of his throat before it traced his perfectly muscled body, outlining the pecs and abs that Harmony was currently imagining licking clean. Muscles flexed, and fleshed gleamed, and, oh god! This was more than any girl could handle and still remain sane…

“Harm?” Kathy repeated in annoyance.

A heady exhalation of breath slipped between Harmony’s immaculately lip-sticked lips. “I think I’m in love,” she announced, leaning her head against the doorframe to the training room to more comfortably watch this young Adonis she’d stumbled across.

Curious, Kathy approached to see what Harmony was looking at. “Him?” Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. “He is, like, so…common!” She spit out the last word like it was the most disgusting insult ever.

“Oh, c’mon,” Harmony retorted. “You’re telling me that body doesn’t even tempt you to go slumming?”

“He’s a loser,” Kathy insisted. “And what kind of freak wears black nail-polish? Not to mention the whole ‘80’s are dead’ thing…”

“You’ve got to look beyond the façade,” Harmony countered, “to the sexy, muscly goodness that’s just begging to give me a few good rides.”

Kathy scoffed. “He has a girlfriend, you know.” She watched him deliver a lightning-quick series of kicks and punches to the bags, clearly unimpressed. “Plus, he’s, like…way scrawny. What do you see in him anyway?”

“ ‘Scrawny’?” Harmony repeated in disbelief. “That, my friend, is salty goodness to top all other salty goodness.”

“Whatever.” Kathy rolled her eyes. “He’s still hung up on Bitsy. If you really want a taste, just wait until she’s done with him.”

Harmony pouted. “I’m way better than her,” she insisted. “I mean, she didn’t even get in to Tri Xi!”

“He’s lunchmeat,” Kathy retorted. “Just wait for him to come around. I’m sure he’s a demon in the sack and all, but it’s only a matter of time before Bitsy realizes just how beneath her he really is.”

Harmony was still sulking. “I don’t wanna wait,” she protested. “Brad is so…blah! I need to rock my world, so to speak…” She licked her lips as Spike moved away from the punching bag to cool his face with the water from his nearby bottle. Sweaty, half-naked Spike got a whole lot wetter as little rivulets ran down his body, a sight so scrumptious it had her practically panting.

“It shouldn’t be long,” Kathy comforted her friend. “After all, Daddy’s bound to snap her back to reality soon. It’s shameless how long she’s stuck with him.”

Harmony cast the object of her lust one last longing glance before finally allowing Kathy to pull her over to the step machines. “Such a waste…” she sighed dreamily.

Spike looked up at that moment to find that, no, there was no one at the door. That odd feeling that he was being watched passed, and he shook it off as the restlessness of a long day. Absentmindedly removing the tape that he’d bound his hands with, he walked over to his towel and gym bag. A quick glance at the clock informed him that Elizabeth’s class would just be getting out, and a smile lit up his face.

This weekend he was going to dazzle her. Once and for all, he was going to show her what love really meant, and by the end of it she’d hopefully be swept completely off of her feet. And, hey, even if he had to wait longer, he would because the two of them had all the time in the world…

* * *

“And I’m sure you’ve all fallen asleep by now,” Joyce concluded with a smile. “Sorry for going on and on like that, but this project is always one of the most fascinating from my perspective as the teacher and observer. So, are there any questions?”

Complete silence filled the room.

“Great,” Joyce looked down at her notes. “That’s all I’ve scheduled for today’s class, so I’ll let you all out early-”

A dozen students instantly leapt to their feet, shoveling books into the gaping maws of their backpacks.

Joyce inwardly rolled her eyes at the impatience of youth. “And, let me repeat: there will be absolutely no extensions. I expect you to actually work in the studio on the free days I’ve given you. Please, don’t put this one off until the last minute…”

She got several pointed looks.

“Yes, a hopeless request, I know,” she reassured them with an amused smile. “So, I’ll see you all on Monday, then?”

The class fled the room on masse with one exception.

“Elizabeth?” Joyce asked curiously. “Did you want something?”

“No, just thinking,” she assured her, zipping up her bag.

“You have any ideas?” Joyce wondered.

“Not yet,” Elizabeth bit her lower lip, “but I’m working on it…”

Disclaimer: The usual.

Author's Note: This is now officially the longest story I've ever written. Very exciting...well, to me, at least. ~_^

Blue Horizons
Chapter Thirty-One

“C’mon, this is silly,” Elizabeth insisted. “Can’t I just-?”

“No,” Spike said vehemently. “Blindfold stays on.”

“But it’s just-” she protested.

“No,” he repeated.

She sighed. “If you walk me into anything, I’m going to kick your ass,” she informed him with a little smile.

He grinned at that as well and held open the door for her as he guided her inside. “Watch the step, luv,” he advised.

She managed to overcome the obstacle and heard the door to Spike’s house shut behind her. “Your mom’s not going to think it’s weird that I’m wandering around your house in a blindfold?” she pointed out.

“Mum’s not here,” he practically purred into her ear. “Spendin’ the weekend up at Cambridge with dad. For Valentine’s Day and all…”

“Does that mean we have the house all to ourselves?” she asked coyly, a falsely innocent expression on her face. “’Cause I don’t know if I can trust you not to ravish me when we’re all alone like this…”

“Better believe you can’t,” he agreed with a little groan, pulling her body up against his.

She let out a little squeak on surprise, worried that she would fall over, but quickly found herself pressed up against the sturdy support of her boyfriend’s well-muscled body. “Mmm,” she murmured contentedly, bringing her hands up to rest on his shoulders, “alone, blind, completely defenseless and at your mercy… I like it.”

He chuckled at the ‘defenseless’ line before leaning in to steal a kiss from her lips. It was just a gentle brush, tender and loving and hinting very much of things to come. “Got somethin’ to show you,” he announced, pulling back from her enticing embrace.

“Does that mean I get to see again?” she asked hopefully.

The only response she got was a quick caress to the cheek before strong hands took hold of her own smaller ones and led her through the house.

Excited anticipation built up in her at the mysterious nature of this liaison. Spike had been very hush-hush about his plans for this weekend, and she’d humored his romantic notions until now. But she was getting really damn curious!

An arm slipped around her waist, bringing her to a halt, and her nerve endings tingled where he touched her. “Can I take the blindfold off yet?” she asked petulantly.

“Here, let me,” he requested.

She felt him nuzzle her hair and then shift to close his teeth over the tie in the handkerchief around her eyes. Her body temperature rose as she was once more reminded of the talent and skill of his mouth.

And then she opened her eyes and…

“Always knew you were a softy at heart,” she teased lightly, touched by the simple romantic dinner he’d set up for them.

“Yeah, well, just don’t tell anyone,” he grumbled, obviously slightly embarrassed.

She gave him a seductive smile in response and drifted over to the small table for two, fingers lightly tracing over the crimson petals of the rose before one of the plates. “For me?” she asked softly.

“Always,” he agreed, his voice a husky whisper.

She picked it up by its long stem, mindful of the thorns. A mischievous gleam in her eyes, she stalked over to him. “Close your eyes,” she requested.

One eyebrow rose in response, but he did as she asked. “You gonna blindfold me now?” he inquired, a hint of the old cheek in his voice.

“Maybe later,” she decided. She held out the rose to his nose, letting him smell the fragrant blossom before she set upon her important task. “You know,” she began, brushing the crimson petals lightly against his forehead, carefully tracing the outline of his face, “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“That’s silly,” Spike scoffed. “’ve never met a women more deservin’ of flowers.”

She smiled at that. “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” she agreed. The rose followed the razor’s edge of one cheekbone before mimicking its motions on the other. “But it’s amazing how clueless some guys can be about these sorts of things.”

“I take it you like, then?” he concluded with a smug smile.

“Hmm,” she responded intentionally vaguely. She bypassed his mouth and turned to his throat, finding one throbbing pulse point and circling it lovingly. “And, then, some guys do the obligatory flowers thing,” she went on, “but they don’t add those little romantic gestures that make it extra special.”

“For shame,” Spike joked lightly, eyes still shut tight.

“Things like, say, a house with just the two of us, dinner, candles, mystery and intrigue,” she rambled a bit. “Not to mention that they all suffer from the extreme handicap of not being you.” The rose had descended to the hollow of his throat now and tickled the sensitive flesh there lightly.

“Poor unfortunate blokes,” Spike agreed mock-wistfully.

“Lucky for me,” Elizabeth brought the rose up to kiss his lips, “my man’s absolutely perfect…even when he is a jerk…”

He chuckled at that, and she took advantage of the delightful smile on his face to replace the crimson petals with her lips. This kiss was longer, deeper, and Elizabeth put everything she had into it. She still didn’t know how to tell whether or not she was in love, but this… It was, oh, so wonderful…

Her lips drifted from his after a minute, and he buried his face in her hair, eyes still firmly shut. “Hungry, luv?” he inquired.

“Starving,” she agreed.

“Can I open my eyes now, then?” he asked hopefully.

“Either that or you get an unromantic spoon-feeding,” she teased, stepping away from him.

A lazy, contented smile crossed his face, and he opened his eyes to see her already sitting down. “Humph,” he grumbled under his breath, “din’t even gimme a chance to hold the chair out for you…”

“There’s that lovely, sexy snark,” Elizabeth replied with a fond smile.

He smiled and plucked the cover off of her plate with a flourish.

“Ah, pasta,” she giggled, “the only dish the kitchen-inept college student can make.”

“’ll have you know that ‘m an excellent cook,” he retorted, feathers obviously ruffled.

Elizabeth cast him an incredulous glance as she swirled the first bite of fettuccine up on her fork. “You?” she asked in disbelief. She took a bite. OK, so it was actually good, but…

“Dad raised me on all sorts ‘f horror stories ‘bout living on undercooked brown rice. Made damn sure that I could throw all my favorite dishes together,” he explained.

A surprised expression crossed Elizabeth’s face. “I didn’t know that,” she said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, well, ‘m too lazy to ever cook back at the dorm,” Spike commented, now set upon devouring his meal as quickly as possible. “Bleedin’ microwave even takes too long…”

“I didn’t know that,” she repeated, sounding slightly troubled.

Spike was worried as well. He mentally went over the list of things he could possibly have done to bollocks this up and came up empty. “Yeah?” he pressed.

“I-I just thought that I, well…knew everything about you,” she admitted, biting her lower lip.

The edges of his lips turned up in the hint of a smile, and he reached over to cover her hand with his. “Impossible to know absolutely everythin’ about a person,” he pointed out. “Sure there’s all sorts of random details that’ve just never come up.”

“You think there are things about me that you don’t know, then?” Elizabeth managed a little smile of her own.

“Positive,” he agreed.

“Like what?”

He gave her an annoyed look at her little joke.

She laughed at his expression and turned back to her food.

“You think you’re funny, but you’re not,” he sighed, rolling his eyes heavenwards in search of an ally somewhere.

“I so am, and you so know I am,” she countered. “You know you wanted to laugh, but that cute little badass persona of yours-”

“Cute?!” he exclaimed in absolute horror.

“Kitty-cat,” she resorted to her favored method of teasing/flirting with him.

“Kitty-cat’s got claws.” His eyes narrowed.

“Kitty-cat’s girlfriend kicks his ass every week at practice,” Elizabeth shot back just as gleefully.

“Kitty-cat could take you in a real fight,” he insisted, “with no rules an’ such.”

“Yeah, right.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Kitty-cat’s gonna end up in traction if Kitty-cat doesn’t watch his mouth.”

Spike beamed in response to the death threat. “God, I love you…” he sighed.

She managed a shy smile in response to that. “You are sooo weird…”

“Just makes me all the more sexy,” he agreed with a wink. “All sorts ‘f little quirks to keep you guessin’. Keeps things nice and excitin’.”

She really couldn’t argue with that. She’d grown used to being with him, true, but she didn’t ever think that a life with Spike could become dull. He was dynamic, ever-changing, like the tides of the ocean that shone through in the brilliant blue of his eyes. And every time she’d thought she’d figured him out, some new piece of the puzzle showed up. He was like peeling an onion, except the layers kept going on and on, each one revealing a new facet to this beautiful man. She wasn’t sure that she’d ever run out of layers to peel back, and something about that made her pulse race.

“The answers to the universe written in the swirl of your pasta?” Spike joked lightly, noticing her intense concentration.

She smiled up at him. “You’re an infinite onion,” she informed him with no preamble.

A delighted smile crossed his face at that as he instinctively realized that compliment for what it was. “’S about the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he replied, looking up at her shyly from under long lashes.

“God, I think you’re telepathic or something,” she sighed. “My attempt to thoroughly confuse you has failed.”

“Only with you, ‘Lizabeth,” he assured her with a cheeky grin.

“From sweet to irritating in five seconds flat,” she teased. “Is that a personal best?”

“Possibly,” he agreed, “but you just beat me with your own three seconds.”

She laughed. “God, it’s a miracle we haven’t killed each other yet,” she decided.

“Found somethin’ more fun to do instead,” he said with a leer.

She rolled her eyes. “Food. Eat. Now. Sex later,” she said in a mockingly condescending tone.

“Sure know how to motivate a bloke, doncha?” He dug back into his food with a grin.

“You are such a kid sometimes,” she sighed. “A large, muscular, well-defined, sexy, horny kid…”

He chuckled in response. “You know me too well, pet,” he agreed.

“No…” she began slowly, realizing something, “I don’t.”

He looked up at her in surprise.

“Infinite onion,” she reminded him. “There’s always another layer to be peeled back, more Spike to reveal…”

He gestured to his shirt. “Feel free to peel this layer back anytime you want,” he teased.

She smiled before her expression turned serious once more. “Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know,” she requested. “Something that you think will surprise me.”

Spike blinked at that before nodding. “Good game, pet,” he agreed before pondering the task before him. “’m askin’ you next so you’d better come up with something.”

“I’m no welcher,” she agreed.

He contemplated his fork for a minute before he finally spoke. “Childhood stuff count?” he asked.

She nodded.

“’Round eight I went deaf,” he finished proudly.

She blinked. “You’re not-” she protested.

He rolled his eyes. “Not anymore,” he agreed. “Nasty bugger ‘f an infection. Had surgery and meds an’ everything. Couldn’t hear a damn thing for almost a month. Scariest thing ever happened to me.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re serious?”

“Completely,” he agreed.

“Oh, baby…” she cooed, her expression softening, “I’m sorry.”

“Doesn’t bother me much anymore,” he assured her. “Just a fun fact.”

She made a pouty face. “But you were so cute in all those pictures!” she insisted. “Kids that cute should never hafta go through anything that traumatic…”

He crossed his arms over his chest and sulked. “Was not cute.”

She grinned maliciously. “Were so cute,” she sing-songed. “You had cute curly hair, and cute blue eyes, and those cute little outfits with the suspenders, and-”

“Ah! Stop!” he pleaded, holding his hands over his ears to block out the horror.

“Baby.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

Cautiously, he removed his hands from his ears.

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing,” she persisted, despite his groan of complaint. “It’s kinda a good guarantee, actually. Y’know, in case we ever wanted to…” She blushed horribly when she realized what she was implied.

He looked at her in surprise as well.

“Well, obviously not…I mean, now…by someday…” Her face was a deep, rich purple by now. “Oh god!” she exclaimed, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment.

A genuine smile lit up his face, making him look more like the cute boy he’d once been with the dimples and the toothy grin. “Are you offerin’ to bear my children, Summers?” he couldn’t help but tease.

“Oh god!” she repeated in despair before sighing. “Well, I mean…I want to someday…just, y’know, a long time from now and…” Nope, still too embarrassed to form a coherent sentence. “Oh god!”

“Oi now, luv,” he said in a gentle, silky voice. “’S all right. ‘ve felt a bit of an urge to sire a brat someday, too.” His cheeks flushed as well. “You’ve always been the mother,” he admitted, his voice losing its usual drawl and sounding more like his father’s polished accent.

Her heart seemed to melt at his admission. It really was the most unusual feeling. “If you want any cooperation, you’d better not ever call our kid a brat again,” she informed him with false sternness.

A smile lit up his face. “Just one?” he inquired.

She nodded. “I liked being an only child. Plus, I don’t know if I could handle two.”

“Liked the only child bit, too,” he agreed. “Although, technically, you’re not one…”

She rolled her eyes at the reference to Dawn. “Yeah, but I didn’t grow up with her. And we didn’t manage to get along until I moved out.”

“So, how often’d you get the question ‘aren’t you lonely without brothers and sisters?’” Spike affected a nasal voice for the question.

Elizabeth laughed. “All the time,” she agreed with a shudder. “Wasn’t that just sooo annoying?”

“Yeah, like not havin’ to put up with annoyin’ siblings whose sole goal in life is to make you as miserable as possible is such a loss,” he agreed.

“They’re all just jealous ‘cause they had to share their mommies and daddies,” Elizabeth added.

“So, one kid then,” Spike decided with a smile. “Boy or girl?”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you,” she exclaimed with a giggle. “You, with the black leather and the bleached hair planning out your dream family like a teenage girl at a sleepover.” Chortles of laughter overtook her at the image of Spike stuck firmly in one of those lame slumber parties she’d had as a kid, curlers in hair and nails being painting while discussing boys and baby names.

He sulked. “You tell anyone and I-”

“What?” she dared him to come up with a good threat.

“-I hold out on the sex,” he finished proudly.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened comically. “Sorry,” she insisted. “It’s just…” The image had her cracking up once more. “Curlers in hair!” she exclaimed, laughing hysterically.

“Not too flatterin’ on you, either,” he retorted.

She snickered a couple more times. “Not sure,” she finally said.

“Pardon?”

“Boy or girl,” she clarified. “I always wanted a girl, but… You were really cute.”

He sighed, resigned to his fate. “This is gonna be the new thing you’re gonna torture me with, innit?”

“Oh, yeah,” she agreed with wicked delight.

With a shake of his head, he got up and walked over to the counter. “Do you mind if I…?” he began hesitantly, gesturing to the bottle of wine there.

“Aren’t you not supposed to drink?” she pointed out.

“One glass ‘f wine on a special occasion?” The way he said it made it all too clear that he wouldn’t drink if she asked him not to.

She bit her lower lip as she pondered something very dangerous. “On one condition,” she agreed. “You have to pour me one, too.”

Spike froze for a moment in stunned silence. “I-I thought you never… Because of…” he stammered slightly in surprise.

“I haven’t,” she whispered softly, approaching him. “But I’m not afraid as long as I’m with you.” She planted a soft kiss just on the edge of his lips. “I trust you…”

Those three words were easily the most lovely he’d ever heard in his life. He didn’t want this moment to end, he was so completely and utterly happy. Better than sex, better than…everything…

“Spikey, wake up,” Elizabeth said with an amused shake of her head.

“Huh?” He blinked and finally took the glass from her. Somehow she’d managed to retrieve the bottle from him and pour two glasses all while he’d been in his stunned stupor.

“To us?” she offered a toast.

“To us,” he agreed in a deep voice, studying her face intently as their two glasses met with a clink.

She watched him as well while she drank of the deep, garnet liquid. “Good stuff,” she commented. “It’s been a long time. I’d forgotten just how much I liked wine.” She finished off the small glass with a flourish. Unaccustomed to the alcohol as she was, she felt slightly giddy in response, but no panic settled in over her as she felt herself losing control. This was Spike. Sweet, sexy Spike who loved her and would never, ever do anything to hurt her.

“My parents always have the best stuff around the house,” he agreed, finishing off his own glass. True to his word, he put the bottle aside. “Care for a dance, luv?” he asked softly, holding out his hand to her.

“If it occurs in your bed, yeah,” she countered with a wink and a giggle.

He gulped. The sight of her so carefree, trusting in him completely, wanting him…

“Come up to bed, luv,” she pleaded softly, catching his hands and pulling him up against her. Her teeth nipped at his throat gently, and she enjoyed the sensations that flooded through her body when they were this close.

He really didn’t have any argument for that. True, he had other plans, but they had the whole weekend, and…

With a frantic intensity to rival their first coupling, the two of them made their way up to Spike’s room despite their entangled kisses and fell to the bed, limbs intertwined. Elizabeth let him pin her down after only a brief mock-struggle for dominance and lay back, thoroughly enjoying the attentions he was bestowing upon her body.

“You taste so sweet,” he whispered, trailing kisses down the skin that was exposed as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse. “Like fine wine. Need to taste you. Drunk on you now, Summers…”

She smiled lazily and wound her fingers into his peroxide locks. “Want you,” she agreed. “Need you…”

His tongue reached her navel and played with the depression there, simulating the actions he was soon to take lower down on her body.

She squirmed and writhed beneath him. “Good boyfriend,” she teased lightly. “Learns quickly.”

He gave her a mock scowl before turning to look at her pants. “Now, that’s no good,” he tisked and shook his head at how they prevented him from pleasuring her. “Hafta get you off,” he decided with a little grin, moving to unclasp the top button.

Elizabeth’s hands fumbled at his shirt as well. “Wanna see you,” she insisted. “Wanna be with you…”

Whether it was lust or the bit of alcohol they’d both consumed for the first time in over a year, neither could say. But their actions fumbled more than usual, raising the tension and desire between them to almost feverish levels. Spike’s jeans caught around his boots, and he angrily kicked the whole ensemble across the room while Elizabeth worked at the stubborn clasp of her bra.

Both triumphant in their tasks at the same time, they turned to look at the other, and the world seemed to stop.

“Beautiful…” Spike purred, returning to the bed and slowly crawling up its length to where she lay amidst the pillows.

“Breathtaking…” she agreed, watching the steel of his muscles slide beneath the silk of his skin. So hard and so soft all at once, and she just wanted him now, more…always more…

“I love you,” he whispered raggedly, settling between her spread thighs.

“I-I think I…” she stammered nervously.

“Shh,” he hushed her, “just let it happen, luv…”

She nodded and looked up at him with a little smile. “You’re wonderful,” she said, still amazed at how loving he could be. “Everything about you…” Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, and he leaned into her caress, eyes squeezed shut tight.

His hand ventured into her dark curls, finding her wet and ready for him. He parted her inner lips gently, stroking her and stretching her, determined to make this as pleasurable an experience for her as possible.

She hissed at the feel of his fingers inside her, pulling him down for a kiss as her desire for him continued to increase exponentially. “Spike?” she requested softly, looking up at him with wide sloe eyes.

His forehead leaned in to rest against hers. “Yeah…” he agreed with a slight nod.

Their lips brushed softly before he slowly rotated his lips, so that just his swollen head was within her. The position was almost impossible to hold, the desire to thrust all the way inside her overwhelming. He fought back the instinctual urges, however, despite her needy whimpering.

“Spike?” she repeated, her voice sounding hoarse, desperate.

“We’re gonna savor every second,” he informed her, his own voice strained, “feel every inch. Wanna teach you what lovemakin’s all about…”

Heat suffused her body at the thought. “Yes,” she gasped, wrapping her arms around his back and pulling him close. The action caused her breasts to press flat against the planes of his chest.

A delighted sigh escaped both their lips, and he began to push oh-so-slowly within her. Elizabeth could literally feel her internal muscles press into him before they slowly relaxed, stretching and accommodating the large invasion. It was an experience unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It was almost like she could feel everything he was experiencing, knew exactly his pleasure, his thoughts, his needs, his desires…

By the time they started moving, they were so intimately joined - body, mind, and soul - that they weren’t even aware of their actions. Pleasure rose, peaked, and fell, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the union. They were one being, complete at last, whole at last, loved at last.

Spike rolled onto his back, still within her, when the intensity became too much and the world began to fade away.

Vaguely aware that something of cosmic scale had occurred, but too sleepy and satisfied to deal with it at the moment, Elizabeth drifted off into a deep, wonderful sleep.

Her lover’s body still tied to her own rhythms, Spike joined her, finally convinced that the love of his life was really and truly his. Forever.

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