It was rare that Buffy felt as though she was getting in the way, and she didn’t like the feeling one little bit. After years of being The Slayer, and Dawn’s Big Sister, and The Teacher Miss Summers, she had gotten used to being the one in authority, the one that everyone looked to in times of need.

And now, she was not only feeling useless in discussing the upcoming battle against the Order of Aurelius (not even going to be the one fighting the Master - just have to sit there holding hands with Faith, of all people) but she had to admit that she was also feeling superfluous around both Angel and Spike.

She had never fully realised how much she took for granted being the centre of attention, especially with the two vampires. It was an eye-opener to realise that she was jealous of both Dru, and Faith, for their close relationship with the two men that she considered somehow “hers”. And like all moments of self-realisation, it was making Buffy feel a bit uncomfortable.

It is pathetic, though, she grumbled to herself. Two grown vampires, acting like mother hens with their chicks. Spike fussing over Drusilla; Angel fussing over Faith. Angel mothering Drusilla; Spike mothering Faith.

It was the latter combination that she was directing her scowl at now, while listening to Giles go over the battle strategy one more time. They were just awaiting the final sign from the prophecy, the earthquake that would happen some time in the next three days during the full moon, which Drusilla believed was the sign that the ritual could take place. The proclamation that the time was at hand when the Master could finally, irrevocably, be destroyed.

Third time‘s the charm, Buffy told herself.

Her frown deepened as she watched Drusilla clutch Angel’s hand in both of hers, drawing comfort from him as she listened to Giles. It was just wrong, somehow, watching Angel hold hands with someone else. Even though there was nothing remotely romantic or sexual about it, it still gave her the wiggins.

However, if Buffy had to be completely honest, it was the sight of Faith and Spike, slouching side by side on one of the sofas, that really disturbed her.

Both the epitome of loose-limbed grace, sprawled like big cats, with legs stretched out in front, heads lolling against the back of the sofa, half-lidded eyes watching what was going on around them. Every so often, one of them would murmur something that only the other could hear, eliciting a smirk or low chuckle.

Buffy twitched irritably as Faith muttered something, sparking a rumble of laughter from Spike. What had she said? Why did Spike find her so amusing? For some reason, it was driving Buffy up the wall.

At long last, Giles drew the meeting to a close, and with a sigh of relief that she only just managed to keep hidden, Buffy rose and made her way out through the french windows into the courtyard. It was a clear, cool night, and she felt the need to blow some cobwebs out of her brain and get some perspective from star-gazing.

She perched against the wall and tilted her head back, staring up at the pinpricks of cold light so far above her. A few deep breaths, and she was beginning to feel better. One of Alison’s hobbies was astronomy, and Buffy had spend many hours with her, looking up at the heavens, learning some of the constellations but preferring to just relax and gaze up at them until everything swirled together in a silver blur.

The serenity had started to have its desired effect on her, when she heard (or was it ‘sensed‘?) Spike nearby. Immediately the tension flooded back into her.

Looking down from the skies, Buffy met his eyes. He cocked his head slightly and raised a packet of cigarettes.

“Mind if I ...?” he asked.

She shook her head, watching as he shook out a cigarette and brought it to his lips.

It’s enough to make me want to take up smoking, she thought as he tilted his head, sheltering the flame of his lighter, the planes and angles of his face highlighted momentarily by the flare of gold, eyes lowered, dark lashes lying against his cheek.

He inhaled deeply, lifting his head to catch her staring at him, and she jerked her eyes away, flustered.

“Buffy? What’s up?” She felt him move towards her. “You’ve been all skittish all day.”

“I’m fine.” She searched her mind for an excuse. Faith. That‘s always a good one. “It’s having Faith here - gives me the wiggins.”

Spike took another drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly before speaking again.

“Look, pet, I don’t know your story with Faith. I’ve heard bits from her, less from Angel and Wes. But it was a long time ago, Buffy, and she’s not the same person she was back then. Working for that Mayor, doing those things - she wouldn’t make that choice again. She‘s changed. And she‘s here to help.”

Buffy chuckled dryly. “Yeah. I know that. But I can’t help it. If it was just the helping-the-Mayor thing, or the trying-to-kill-Angel-and-Willow thing, or the lying-to-us-all thing ... maybe I’d be able to forgive her. But the stealing-my-body, sleeping-with-my-boyfriend, and trying-to-take-over-my-life thing - I’m finding that kinda hard to deal with.”

Spike looked taken aback. “The what-with-your-body? And - the other stuff?”

“Haven’t you heard that story?” She settled back against the wall again. “When Faith woke up from the coma, she found a way to make us switch bodies. I was in her body, she was in mine. And while I was being dragged back to England by the Council for all sorts of not-fun and games, she was busy living the life with Riley, and God know what else.”

Spike went very still. “When was this?” he asked.

“About ... seven, eight years ago.”

He tilted back his head and laughed. “It was her! Not you.”

“Her, not me, what?” Buffy asked suspiciously.

“I met her. You.” Spike tried to explain. “It must have been. In the Bronze, all dressed up in black - and not much of it. You - she - was...” he trailed off, shaking his head.

Buffy gritted her teeth, rage rising up in her. I‘ll kill Faith. “What. Did. She. Do?”

Spike stepped towards her, trying to look concerned but unable to hide his amusement. “Nothing too bad, Buffy. She was just - flirtatious.”

“What did she say?”

He took another step closer, amusement winning out, along with a hint of desire prompted by his memories. His voice was low, husky, and dangerously seductive.

“Something about riding me at gallop.” Another step. “Making my legs buckle.” Step. “Popping me like warm champagne.” Step. “And then hurting me just a little bit more.”

He was far too close now. Only a breath away. And he was doing that thing with his tongue, curling it up against his teeth ...

“You promised me all that, love,” he murmured, smiling wickedly. “And you more than delivered. On every. Last. Word.”

Buffy’s stomach clenched as memories of the nights - and days - spent lost in lust swept over her. God, the things they had done together, things she had never imagined trying, let alone enjoying. Mixed in with her shame at sleeping with Spike, and her worry at her friends finding out and judging her, had been the fear that there was something wrong with her, that she was some kind of sexual pervert for enjoying those things ...

With the benefit of hindsight - and numerous women’s magazines and conversations with Anya - she could now recognise that she had just been too inexperienced and too young to recognise that sex games and experiments were perfectly normal.

And at this precise moment in time, frozen before Spike’s blue gaze, she couldn’t help wondering - didn’t want to stop wondering - what it would be like to be with Spike now?

She allowed her eyes to lick over him, as he had done to her. Still one hell of a fine body on the man - how had he described it once? - a hot, tight little body. The description had repulsed her at the time, then later she had laughed a bit, but now she could admit that it described him perfectly.

A little devil whispered in her mind. What if ...? And she made up her mind.

Buffy looked back into his eyes and very deliberately bit down on her lower lip.

The air hitched in his chest, and he lowered his head so that he moved ever so slightly closer to her.

A shiver ran up her spine.

She tilted her head slightly, the perfect angle for a kiss, but didn’t move any closer ... still a hair’s breadth - too far - away. Lowering her eyes to look at his mouth, her eyelashes brushed against his cheek, and he growled softly.

Very slowly, Buffy leaned forward and caught Spike’s lower lip very lightly between her teeth for a second. Then she released it and gently, so gently, kissed him.

He remained perfectly motionless, and after a moment she pulled back, confused and embarrassed. Oh god, had she read him completely wrong? She was making an idiot of herself.

Buffy stepped back quickly, forcing herself to look him in the face. What she saw confused her further. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed, and he was breathing deeply in and out, as though he was trying to regain a control that she wasn’t aware he had lost.

“I’m ... sorry?” she offered hesitantly.

He opened his eyes and glared at her. “You bloody well should be.”

Her mouth dropped open, embarrassment forgotten. “Rude much?” she asked indignantly.

Spike began pacing in front of her. “I’m many things, Buffy, but stupid isn’t one of them. I saw the look on your face tonight, and I know you’re feeling all left out because this latest apocalypse isn’t All. About. Buffy. And then there’s Angel too wrapped up in his wounded girls to spend time angsting with you. So you decide that you can get your attention quota from old Spike here. Well, it’s been a long time since I was your lapdog, and I’m not planning on taking on the job again any time soon. And, frankly, I’d expect better from you.”

Buffy crossed her arms and glared at him. “Are you quite finished there? Because I’ve had enough of your pop-psychology based on your comprehensive knowledge of me over the past five years. Oh, wait. You haven’t seen me or spoken to me in over five years. So I guess that must mean that you’re - let’s see - completely and utterly wrong.”

He nodded his head in a way that screamed “sarcastically“. “Right. I’m completely wrong. So why don’t you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I’m definitely not so desperate for attention that I’d drag you out here to jump your undead bones,” Buffy told him. “Okay, so I admit that I’m finding it strange that I won’t be more involved in the fight against the Master. And yes, it’s more than weird to have both Drusilla and Faith here, and to see you and Angel so close to them both. But that’s not why I kissed you.”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

“Because I ...” Her voice trailed off, and mentally she gathered her courage. I’m going to have to do this. “Well, I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“You wanted to,” he repeated. “Now that I’m all soul-having, it’s all right for you to fancy me?”

“Your soul has nothing to do with why I ‘fancy’ you,” Buffy retorted.

Spike opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. There was silence for a long moment.

“You ... fancy me?” His voice was so soft she almost missed the question.

“Well, yes,” Buffy answered in an isn’t-it-obvious? tone. “I can’t remember any more when I didn’t fancy you. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself before now.”

“But now that I have the soul ...” he began again.

She rolled her eyes. “I told you, it has nothing to do with the soul. I don’t know why. I always thought that a soul was the most important thing. But for some reason, that’s not what I’ve been thinking about over the past few days. It’s what you said to me. About how you felt - after attacking me in the bathroom.”

He tried to turn away, but Buffy caught his arm and forced him to face her. “It was knowing that you really, deep down, in your heart, in your soul if you prefer, regretted it. After it happened - I was hurt, and I was angry, and I hated you. But after time passed, I realised that I wasn’t angry, or hating, any more. And I felt as though I should. You’d tried to rape me, so therefore I should always hate you. I thought there was something wrong with me for being able to get over something like that.

“But when I saw you again, the other day, and listened to you, I realised that it was okay for me to get over it. And then I realised that I was over it, and I had been for a while. And that meant that I could admit to myself, that there was something ... that I ... well, that I had feelings for you ...” It was Buffy’s turn to move away. “Am I making any sense here?”

“Not really.” He sounded shaken. “And - perfectly.” He took a deep breath. “So, what does it all mean?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Not if you don’t want it to. I just thought I should let you know how I felt. You were always so brave in telling me how you felt, even though you knew how I’d react. I thought you deserved the same honesty from me.”

“Buffy.”

At the sound of her name, she turned to look at him, and found herself enveloped in his arms. She wrapped her own arms firmly around his waist, holding on tight.

“Buffy, I don’t know what anything means any more,” he murmured against her cheek. “My whole existence has been turned upside down since I met you. All I know for certain is how good it feels right now to hold you.”

Buffy tilted her head up and smiled. “Then just hold me until it doesn’t feel right any more.”

He grinned back at her, a full, wide, open smile that made her breath catch. “That sounds perfect.”

Just as he finished speaking, the earth began to rock beneath their feet, and a roaring filled their ears. The tremor lasted for just a few seconds, then everything settled down again, leaving them staring at each other.

“So, did the earth move for you, pet?” Spike asked, quirking an eyebrow.

She chuckled. “It sure did. And I bet it’s made Giles’ day. Come on, we’d better find out what’s going on. I think that was our wake-up call.”