Prologue

Buffy stepped off the bus into dry heat and looked around as she waited for her bag to be unloaded. There were a lot of cars zooming past--many more than she ever would have guessed were in the entire state of Kansas, let alone one little town.

And, even though she was surrounded by buildings, the sky seemed endless.

Picking up her bag, she began to trudge up the street to the cheap looking motel she had seen from the bus as they had passed it. She had enough money for a couple of nights if she was lucky, then she'd be tapped out.

She would have saved enough for a Big Mac meal too if she had gotten off at the last stop--the capital she vaguely remembered from geography lessons, surely a large city-- but one look at Topeka and her mind had said 'no way'. The next stop had been as far as she could go if she wanted to sleep in a bed rather than on a park bench for more than a night.

So, here she was in Lawrence, Kansas, wondering what the Hell she was going to do with the remainder of her most- likely short life.

*****

Part 1

Buffy awoke at dawn to a really annoying sound coming through the paper thin walls of her motel room. It was a loud raspy buzz with a whine in it. Wondering what the Hell it was, she pulled herself from the bed and stumbled over to the window. Pulling open the curtains, she blinked in the early morning sun, but didn't see anything that might make such a horrendous noise.

Yawning, she groped her way into the bathroom to take a shower. Item number one on the list of things to do that day was buy a newspaper, quickly followed by item number two which was find a job.

*****

At 7:00 Buffy left her motel room to head for the nearby McDonalds for breakfast. She was immediately assaulted by what seemed like a million flying, buzzing bugs rising from the tree outside her room. Battling her way through them, she made her way to the relative safety of the parking lot.

"Great. I've moved to bug world," she muttered under her breath as she stalked down the street.

As she bought her breakfast and a paper, she was informed that the bugs were locusts and that the town was at the convergence of two separate cycles. In other words--a plague. Just perfect for her mood.

*****

Finding a job was ridiculously easy. Apparently, Lawrence had a very transient young population and there were a lot of employers willing to hire day labor without references.

By noon, Buffy was digging potatoes on a farm north of town alongside two young men and one woman. At a break they all sat under a large shade tree, drinking bottles of Gatorade. The other three--Tad, Janice and Quinton--had been traveling together for over a year.

"Yeah, we spent the summer here last year. It's a great town. Lots of cool people. Great music. The cops are pretty cool, too," Janice said between swigs of her drink.

"They don't roust you unless you're causing trouble. They get on panhandling, though, but there are always jobs like these in the summer," Tad added.

"So, where are you from, Buffy?" Quinton asked.

"Southern California. A little pit of a town an hour from L.A."

"Cool. We were in Frisco for a while last winter," Tad said.

Buffy was a little surprised that these kids, just a few years older than her own seventeen, spent their lives traveling around the country. It was a new phenomenon to her. "So, where do you stay here?"

Janice pointed back towards the town. "About two miles down this road there's a campground. We just pitch a tent. There are showers and a shop. The owner is pretty cool. Used to tour with some ancient rock band and is really into hippy stuff, so he gives us a decent rate."

Quinton stood up, brushing down his baggy camouflage pants. "Better get back to it. Hey, if you ain't doing anything after work, there are some great local bands playing at a club downtown where they have real cheap sandwiches. You want to come with?"

Buffy thought about it for a split second. She didn't really want to have a good time ever again, but a girl needed to eat. "Sure."

*****

One month passed pretty quickly as Buffy settled into life in Lawrence, Kansas. Her speedy work on the farm had gotten her hired on for the rest of the summer and after three weeks at the campground, she had been able to rent a small, furnished trailer. She could afford it as long as she lived off hamburger helper and canned vegetables and walked everywhere.

She kept herself too busy to think much about the life she had left behind. Sometimes she wondered what her friends were up to, if her mom was okay. A few times she had reached for a pay phone and just stopped herself from calling someone. The merest hint of a thought about Angel was brutally shoved to the back of her mind.

Her days fell into a welcome pattern. Up before dawn, a two mile walk to work, eight hard hours in the field, a two mile walk back to her trailer, shower, dinner, then hopefully dreamless sleep. On the weekends, she usually hung out on the downtown main street--which for some reason was not called Main Street, but was known as Massachusetts Street--with her new friends, going to clubs, playing video games and watching the world pass her by. Anything to prevent herself from having to think.

Her new friends didn't know much about her. That way, no one would get close enough to her to get hurt. She was still the Slayer, after all, although she hadn't seen anything worth slaying since her arrival. That was probably a good thing. Her anger at demons in general and vampires in specific had been building into a simmering fury for over a month.

The first vampire to cross her path would probably get the pounding of his or her unlife before being staked.

*****

A Saturday night in mid July found Buffy walking back across the bridge from the downtown just after midnight. Quinton had, for the dozenth time, tried to convince her to spend the night with him and rather than hang around watching him nurse her rejection with beer, she had decided to split.

A part of her wondered why she couldn't just fling herself into a one night stand with him or with any of the guys who had asked her in the last month. But the larger part of her knew why. Her body was cold and dead and she preferred it that way. Being held and caressed might just bring her back to life and that was the last thing she wanted.

Of course, she still loved Angel as well, although she didn't allow herself to think about him as being the real excuse for not wanting to sleep with anyone else.

Living on the streets--or near enough to it--for the past month, Buffy had seen a side of life she had only heard about. The kids here lived hand to mouth. Most slept in the parks or at the campground. None of the girls were alone. It was a well accepted fact that it was easier to get by with a guy--someone to share the expenses with, someone to protect you from the creeps that were out there. Sometimes love was involved, but more often relationships were formed for survival and companionship.

Their lives were nothing she had been prepared for. She had been raised to be like some of the college girls who came downtown on the weekends to shop, driving their daddy's cars and smelling of designer perfume. Sometimes it was hard to remember that she had once been just like them.

Suddenly a car screeched to a halt beside her, causing her to jump in surprise. As she spun around, Buffy took in the large black car, then stumbled back against the bridge railing in even more surprise at the sight of the figure emerging from the driver's side.

"I knew I recognized that butt!"

With a wide grin on his face, Spike flicked his cigarette away and circled the front of the car.

*****

Part 2

Buffy began to slide slowly along the railing of the bridge, her hand moving inconspicuously into her tote bag, her eyes never leaving the figure circling the front of the car, a wide grin on his face.

"Slayer! What a lovely surprise, finding you in the middle of nowhere."

Buffy continued to move backwards as he approached. Her searching hand grasped around a stake and she yanked it free of the bag. In a blindingly swift move, Spike grabbed the hand that held the stake and pinned it behind her back. Successfully blocking her attacking knee, he shoved her against the railing, bending her ever so slightly backwards.

"And here I thought we were bestest of friends," Spike said with a hint of menace in his voice.

Buffy gasped at the dizziness that flooded her, her ears filling with the sound of the water rushing over the dam thirty feet below her. She knew that if she managed to push him away, she could easily topple over the side. Going against every instinct she had, Buffy forced herself to relax.

"Sorry, Spike. Reflex action," she quipped in a shaky voice.

The grin returning to his face, if not to his eyes, Spike slowly pulled her away from the edge of the bridge and released her, taking a step back. Buffy immediately attacked, plunging the stake towards his chest. Barely managing to sidestep instant death, Spike flung himself towards his car. Spinning around, his demon at the fore, he backhanded his attacker, sending her flying into the railing.

The pain surprised her. It had been over a month since anyone had hit her. Memories of the last fight she had been a participant in swamped her and Buffy sank to her knees, facing the moonlit river. Silently she began to cry as the dam inside her broke, freeing the emotions that were always there under the tightly controlled surface.

"Get up," Spike growled harshly from behind her. Buffy ignored him, waiting, nearly praying for the death she hadn't had the courage to seek out. "Don't die on your knees, girl!" A clawed hand dug into her shoulder and jerked her to her feet. Turning her, Spike raised his hand, preparing to slash her throat. At the sight of the tears leaking from her closed eyes, the torment in her expression, he let her go, his face morphing back to normal. "This just won't do," he muttered petulantly. "It isn't fun if you don't fight back, pet."

Buffy's eyes flew open to stare at him. The humor had returned to his eyes as he leaned back against his car, arms crossed over his chest. Why wasn't he killing her? She swallowed hard and muttered through her tears, "Get it over with, Spike."

"Can't do it, luv. Right now you're too pathetic to kill." He made a tsking noise. "Sloppy attack, giving up way too soon, tears...Not much of a slayer, are we."

The sarcasm in his voice was almost enough to make her angry, but that emotion had become so foreign to her she let it be overwhelmed by the pain and guilt she lived with. The tears continued to flow as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying not to think or feel anything.

"Slayer, this is getting really pitiful."

"Stuff it, Spike," she choked out. As a sob broke from her, she spun on her heel and continued across the bridge, eyes downcast. She was aware the instant he fell into step with her.

"So, where are we going?" he asked conversationally.

Blinded by tears, Buffy stumbled only to be caught up against Spike's firm, lean body. Instinctively she began to struggle, but he held her tightly and swung her into his arms. As he strode back the way they had come, Buffy broke down completely, sobbing noisily. All the pain, guilt and grief she had bottled inside her for months poured from her and she clung to Spike. Pressing her face into his chest, she clutched desperately at his shoulders, wanting, praying for everything to just end.

"That's it, luv; let it all out," he murmured in a gentler voice than she had ever thought he could possess.

Gently Spike settled her in the passenger seat of his car, firmly disentangling himself from her grasping hands. By the time he had gone around to the driver's side, Buffy had curled into a little ball, her face buried in her knees as she sobbed.

Turning the key in the ignition, Spike found his eyes wandering to her huddled form. As the engine revved to life, he sat back and watched her, wondering why he hadn't killed her. His line about her being pathetic had been accurate, but since when had that stopped him? Most of his victims sobbed for their lives.

Maybe it was because she hadn't been sobbing for her life. He had seen mortals with death wishes before. Her's might be unspoken, but it was there in her feeble attack and break down. The slayer wanted to die.

So, again the question, why was she still alive, sitting beside him in his car?

That last night, the hesitant alliance they had made, the mutual desire to rid the world of Angelus...had there been something else hidden in their sarcastic, sniping hatred of each other?

He knew hate. What he was feeling was no where near it.

For the last several months his hatred had been reserved for his sire. His only thoughts about the slayer had been rather automatic--that Angel should just get on with it and kill her. He really hadn't cared whether she lived or died; he just wanted something--anything--to take Angel's attention away from Dru.

Thoughts of Drusilla brought too much pain and Spike shook himself from his revery. "Where to, pet?"

Slowly Buffy looked up at him. Tears were still sliding down her wet cheeks from her red eyes, but the hideous sobs had ceased. Rubbing her hands over her tangled, damp hair, she mumbled her address and directions to him. Spike pulled the car back into the minimal traffic and headed north.

As Spike drove, Buffy began to pull her scattered thoughts together, trying to understand what had brought her to this moment--sitting a foot away from her worst enemy, letting him drive her home. And, why hadn't he tried a little harder to kill her?

Why hadn't she tried a little harder to kill him?

Gently brushing the tears from her cheeks, Buffy glanced at him from the corner of her eye, taking in his strong profile as he easily guided the car with one hand, the other one propped in the open window. Why was he being nice to her?

Their truce had been temporary, a necessary alliance to bring down...Buffy's mind skittered and she swallowed hard, forcing the rampant emotions back down inside her. For a month she had survived by not thinking about him, not feeling anything about him but low level ever present pain and guilt. She wondered why the bad emotions crept through her barricades, but nothing good could escape. She had felt no joy, no pleasure since leaving Sunnydale.

Spike's presence had freed something inside her that she didn't want to feel. She could live without the joy if she never again felt the agony of loss that had consumed her for those few minutes on the bridge.

Now, slowly, she was growing cold again, stamping out all hint of emotion. Apparently, she would survive another night, but not if she allowed herself to feel anything but residual emotions. Allowing herself to truly feel would allow the grief to drive her mad.

Spike pulled up in front of her dingy trailer on a weed-filled lot and stopped the car. "Hmm, this is certainly a downgrade in choice of residences."

Buffy ignored him and slid from the car, walking up the gravel drive to the door. She knew Spike was following her, but pretended he didn't exist as she dug her key out of her bag and unlocked the door.

"Gonna invite me in, pet?"

Slowly Buffy turned to face her nemesis and found him grinning evilly at her. She gave him a cool, controlled look. "I'm not that stupid."

"Oh, c'mon. Here we are the only vampire and the only slayer in this dinky little town in Kansas, for Hell's sake. It'd get really dull if one of us killed the other, don't you think?"

"We're mortal enemies, Spike. That's what mortal enemies do."

*****

Part 3

Spike just looked at Buffy until she finally sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Fine. I must have a death wish," she muttered.

Yeah, he'd agree with her on that one.

"Come on in, but if you try anything funny, you're staked."

"Oh, yeah, you're scary," he replied, following her into the tiny, sparsely furnished trailer. He flopped down in an armchair that's stuffing was spilling from various holes and crossed one leg over his knee. "So, what are you doing in the middle of nowhere, Kansas?"

Buffy gave him a sharp look and dropped her bag on the kitchen table. "Where's Drusilla?"

Spike frowned at her. "Okay, no tough questions. What should we chat about?"

"So, what happened? She dump your sorry ass?" Buffy persisted.

"You really are looking for death, aren't you, Slayer?" he quipped in a menacing voice.

Sighing, Buffy sat down in a kitchen chair and crossed her arms across her chest. "Why are you here, Spike? In my trailer?"

"Because you invited me, luv."

Buffy rolled her eyes at the literalness of his answer and Spike began to tap the fingers of one hand on the arm of the chair.

"Maybe because you're the first familiar thing in a thousand miles," he said through gritted teeth. His voice gentled as he gazed at her frozen, empty face. "Why are you here, Buffy?"

It was the first time he had ever spoken her name to her and something opened inside her. She blinked at fresh tears. "I don't know," she whispered. Wiping at her eyes, she got up and started past him. "I think you better leave."

As she stumbled past, Spike caught her wrist and the next thing either of them knew, she had tumbled onto his lap. Buffy squirmed in a mixture of fear and embarrassment and their eyes met. Something in his eyes made her stop trying to get up.

The hand that held her wrist loosened and began to caress her trembling skin. Buffy's lips parted in a pant as she watched his eyes darken, harden. Unbidden, her free hand touched his cheek. The firm, cool skin was so familiar...

A low moan broke from her as her body came alive to the feeling of a man holding her. Tingling sensations washed over her and the tears leaked from her wide eyes. "I need..." she whispered.

"What do you need?" he answered in a husky voice, full of emotion he hadn't expected to feel.

"I need...to be held."

Spike's arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her closer until her breasts pressed against his chest. He couldn't believe this was happening. That he was growing aroused by holding the slayer!

But, he was. He wanted the young woman trembling in his arms. He had always found her attractive, enjoyed her wit and sarcasm, admired her sleek, lithe body, but...she was the slayer!

Trying to find a way out of this before they fell in too deep, he said, "And none of a billion mortals in this world could hold you?"

Buffy shook her head. "They'd make me feel alive. I don't want to feel alive." The hand on his cheek slid up into his hair. "Can you make me feel death, Spike?" she whispered before covering his mouth with her's.

All rational thought fled Buffy's mind. His touch was so familiar. She needed to feel that way again...the way *he* had made her feel, his cold hands caressing her hot flesh, his cold cock deep inside her. He had made her want to die...Maybe with Spike she finally would.

Stunned by the touch of her hungry mouth, Spike found himself instinctively responding, his arms tightening around her. The word 'slayer' kept bouncing around his short- circuiting brain, but his body was in control...for now, at least.

When she rose to her feet, still kissing him, he followed her and pulled her against him. Buffy rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, thrusting her tongue into his mouth with growing passion.

No longer thinking, driven by the heat spreading through her loins, Buffy backed them down the hall towards her tiny bedroom and the double bed it contained. A tiny part of her screamed at how wrong this was, but her body, untouched for so many months, was on over-drive, throbbing, hot, needing a man's touch.

And when that little part of her yelled that he wasn't a man, she ruthlessly shut it up, digging her hands into Spike's shoulders and tugging him down with her onto the bed.

The room was dark, but he could see her clearly as he lay propped over her. She was panting and trembling, obviously hungry for his touch. As he watched the emotions play across her face, knowing she couldn't see the similar emotions on his, Spike's hands began to unbutton her shirt.

He wouldn't ask her if she was sure she wanted to do this. If she said no, he wasn't sure he could stop.

At the feel of cold fingers sliding over the tops of her breasts, Buffy moaned deep in her throat, pushing her pelvis up against his hardness. She helped him pull his t- shirt over his head, then leaned up and began to place light kisses on his smooth chest.

Groaning, Spike turned her, pulling the shirt down her arms and flinging it over his shoulder as her hot lips touched his skin, sending sparks of pleasure racing through him. How long had it been since a woman had made him feel this way?

Gazing down at breasts encased in white lace, fuller and plumper than he could have imagined, an airless pant broke from his lips. Sliding one hand inside the cup, his fingers found her nipple, already hard. Buffy jerked and whimpered, her nails digging into his back as she began to nibble on one of his own nipples in lusty retaliation.

The front clasp of her bra easily opened for him and Spike feasted his eyes on her pale, pink-tipped breasts. Bending his head, he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.

Electricity jolted through Buffy. Gripping his head, she held him to her breast, moaning continuously. The pleasure was incredible--so long forgotten--so hot and unbearable. Spike moved to her other breast and she arched against him, eagerly offering herself.

As he tongued her nipples, one after the other, Spike's hands slipped down further and ran over the crotch of her shorts. He could feel her damp heat through the thick cotton. Nimble fingers untying the drawstring, he began to pull the shorts down. Instinctively Buffy lifted her hips and he pulled the article of clothing free.

Pulling back, Spike rose to his knees and looked down at her, trembling on the bed. Her eyes were open, but glazed with desire, her fingers were digging rhythmically into the bedding beneath her, her slender legs were slightly parted. Leaning down, he pulled her sandals off, gently running his fingers over the arches of her sensitive feet.

Buffy's feet jerked and she whimpered. When his cold tongue circled her big toe, she nearly arched off the bed. "Oh God..." she moaned, thrashing her head. The heat between her legs had become a throbbing pressure and he was kissing her feet! "Please," she begged, not really sure what she was asking for.

Grinning, Spike placed a kiss on her ankle, then ran his tongue up her shin, knee and thigh. The muscles of her thigh jumped under his touch. As his lips brushed her hip, his sensitive nose smelled the musky scent of her arousal and he was oddly pleased that she wanted him so much.

Excruciatingly slowly, one of Spike's hands slid up her other thigh, then slipped to the inside, then lightly ran across the crotch of her white panties. Buffy arched against his hand, a shudder running through her entire body. He began to peel the panties down, over her hips and down her trembling legs, then off her feet.

If he could have breathed, his breath would have caught in his throat as he took in the sight of the soft, brown hair between her thighs. She was exquisite and incredibly sexy all at the same time.

Looking up, past her heaving breasts and panting lips, Spike caught her eyes. They were wild and full of need. He could prolong this for hours, but, as a very experienced man, he recognized that it had been a long time for her--probably since that first and only time with Angel.

Dipping his head between her thighs, his mouth immediately found the center of her pleasure and he began to kiss and tongue her.

Buffy's knees pinned his head between her legs as she pushed against his mouth. "So cold, so cold, cold, cold..." she mumbled over and over as the pleasure built. Her hands found her breasts, tweaking the tender, hard nipples.

Spike had forgotten how different it was with a mortal. She was so hot to his touch, nearly burning his tongue as he lapped at her femininity. Her legs began a constant trembling and he knew she was near. Closing his lips around her throbbing clitoris, he sucked hard.

Yelling, Buffy exploded, her fingers twisting her nipples, her legs clenching his head, her body spasming. She flung her head back against the pillow and thrust herself against his mouth, her cries dwindling to moans.

Buffy whimpered as he pulled back and rose on shaky legs, but didn't have the strength to bring him back to her. Quickly Spike kicked off his shoes and yanked his jeans down his legs. Even with the endurance of a vampire, he couldn't wait much longer.

As he slid back between her thighs, Buffy's shaking arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him over her slick body. She moaned again as his hard, cold chest scraped over her throbbing nipples and met his mouth in a hungry, tongue thrusting kiss.

Feeling her legs wrapping around his hips, Spike slid his pulsing erection against her wet cleft. Buffy whimpered and pressed herself against him, sucking his tongue into her mouth.

As he thrust into her hot channel, she gasped, her eyes opening wide. It felt so good. Like ice inside her burning body. Her hips met his thrust and she tightened her legs around him.

Pulling her head back to pant through moist lips, she watched as Spike flung his own head back, propping himself above her with his arms on either side of her head. She began to run her nails over his chest, eliciting a groan from him as she scraped his nipples.

In the gloom of the room, she watched the pleasure that crossed his face, felt him speed up the thrusts, heard the slapping sound from flesh hitting flesh as their pelvises met. The tension began to build again inside her.

Groaning, unprepared for the quick, hot pleasure that slammed into her, she grabbed his shoulders, concentrating on grinding her sensitive mound against him. Putting his weight on one arm, Spike slid the other hand down between their bodies and began to finger her clitoris.

She yelped at his touch and climaxed noisily, babbling to God and clinging to him. Lowering his upper body to rest on her's, Spike gripped her hips and slammed her up against him as his climax hit. He thrust mindlessly, grunting in pleasurable agony as he emptied himself into her.

Finally, they both collapsed, him sprawled half on top of her, their bodies still intimately joined.

As his mind slowly returned to normal, Spike glanced up at the slayer with whom he had just shared an incredible sexual experience and found her asleep, flushed and cutely tousled.

Grinning, tired himself, he levered himself off of her and flopped on his back. Gently he pulled her into his arms and she curled around him, snuffling her face into his chest. Trying not to wonder what the Hell had just happened, Spike dozed off.

*****

Part 4

Buffy woke slowly, her eyelids fluttering, then shutting against the hint of light blocked almost entirely by the thick curtains over the one small window. She felt...strange. For a moment, her mind drifted away again, then sensations began to enter her awareness.

Whatever she was lying on was cool and hard, yet strangely contoured. There were unfamiliar twinges in her legs. She felt sticky with more than perspiration...

Suddenly it all came back in a rush and her eyes flew open. Her head rested on Spike's chest, one of her legs was draped across him, her knee pressed lightly against...was that really...OH GOD!

Stifling her instinctive groan and trying not to wake him, she glanced up. Spike's eyes were closed; he wasn't breathing. He looked dead.

The slayer in her yelled 'Find a stake. Do your duty.' Buffy ignored her inner voice and carefully moved off of Spike. Sliding from her bed, she grabbed for a t-shirt, yanking it over her naked body, determined not to think about the events of the previous night.

Slipping from the room, she headed for the bathroom and a long, hot shower. As the water pounded over her, washing away all physical remnants of the night before, Buffy closed her eyes and scrubbed blindly.

Images began to pop into her mind. Mouths meeting in hungry kisses; gentle hands caressing naked skin; cold flesh sliding over hot; his eyes on hers as he thrust deep inside her.

Shuddering, Buffy turned the water off and grabbed a towel, roughly drying herself, trying not to think. Her clean clothes sat unfolded in a basket outside the bathroom door. During the heat of the day before she hadn't had the energy to put them away. As she dug out a pair of underwear and shorts to go with the t-shirt, she was glad she didn't have to enter the bedroom just yet.

Dressed and brushing her wet hair she walked silently into the dark main room of the trailer and turned on the window air-conditioner, keeping the thick curtains tightly closed to keep out the heat. Letting the cold air chill her hot skin, she began to think about what she was going to do next.

*****

Late afternoon rolled in with no answers. Buffy had spent the day reliving the events of the previous night, from their first meeting, through their fight, through her emotional breakdown, through his strange tenderness, to...the sex...the wild, passionate, wholly stupid sex.

The last thing she wanted to do was dwell on the sex. Flushed from the erotic memories, it took her a few seconds to realize that someone was knocking on her door. Shaking her head to try to clear it, Buffy rose from the chair she had spent several hours in and winced as her muscles groaned.

Opening the door she found her new friends carrying food and belatedly remembered that she had invited them over for supper.

"Hey!" Janice exclaimed, brushing past Buffy carrying a grocery bag with hot dogs and buns. "You look thrashed. Did we wake you?"

"Um, no. Come on in." Tad and Quinton slipped past her, carrying beer, pop and chips. Shutting the heat outside, Buffy closed the door and turned to her friends. "I kinda forgot I invited you."

"We can leave," Quinton began.

"No, no, I don't want you to leave. I just forgot and the place is a mess..."

Janice gave her a cheerful grin and began to put the food in the fridge. "Spotless as usual."

"You want to come clean our place? It's a dump," Tad said as he opened a beer and flopped on the couch.

Quinton joined him. "Only because you've never lifted a finger to pick up one thing."

Ignoring the boys' argument, Janice found two glasses and poured some diet cola, then leaned against the counter, sipping hers. Buffy swirled the drink around in the glass for a minute.

"Your mind is a million miles away. Really, Buffy, we can leave."

Buffy glanced up at Janice's sympathetic, friendly face and plastered on a smile. "No. I want you to stay. It's just..."

"Well, well, you didn't tell me we were having company."

Buffy winced at the strong, masculine, cheerful, accented voice coming from the direction of the bedroom.

"Hey man, I'm Tad, this is Quinton and Janice. We brought dinner."

"I can see you did," Spike said, grinning. Buffy spun and glared at him, then set her glass down and hurried over to his side.

"You're up a little early," she said through clenched teeth as she took a hold of Spike's arm. The son of a bitch was wearing only his jeans with the top button undone. Silently she groaned, not wanting to face the inevitable questions. "He's a night person," she tried to explain, her fingers digging into Spike's arm.

"I'm Spike, an old friend of Buffy's."

"New in town?" Janice asked as she joined the group in the living room.

"Passing through. Ran into my dear old friend on the bridge last night." Spike pried Buffy's fingers off his arm and slipped his other arm around her waist, pinning her to his side.

Feeling a sudden influx of heat at his touch, Buffy silently cursed her traitorous body and managed to keep herself from stomping on his bare instep. Her eyes widened as Spike's hand slipped down, then patted her on the bottom. "Go get me a beer, that's a luv."

Swallowing her desire to break the flimsy coffee table into handy stakes, Buffy stomped into the kitchen and got a beer from the fridge. Turning back to her friends, she found Spike lounging in the easy chair, well away from the only sunlight which was coming through the kitchen window, chatting about some sport with Tad and Quinton. This was not good.

Handing Spike the can, she retreated to the table where Janice was sitting, gawking at Spike.

"Girlfriend," Janice hissed. "He's gorgeous."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess." Buffy took a big gulp of her drink, hoping it would cool her off--both her anger and her sudden lust.

"You guess? You really are blind, girl."

"Huh?" Buffy mumbled, confused.

"You haven't looked at a guy the whole summer. I figured you had a bad breakup or something. Was it with him?"

Buffy gave her a look of horror at the thought, then turned red as it hit her again just what she had done with her mortal enemy the night before. She groaned and ran her hand over her face. "Oh crap, crap, crap, crap, crap."

Janice patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Men do bring out that emotion in women...I'm gonna ask this one more time. Do you want us to go?"

Buffy grabbed her arm, shaking her head and whispering. "God, no, please. I don't know what the Hell I'm doing anymore. If you're here, maybe I won't do something else totally insane."

"Buffy, dear, your friends want to know how we met."

Inwardly wincing at the playful tone in Spike's voice, Buffy turned her head and replied sweetly. "He told me he was going to kill me so I kicked his ass."

Spike chuckled, but she could see the ice in his eyes. "She's such a kidder." He patted the wide arm of the chair he lounged in. "Come join me, luv. I missed waking up in your arms."

Buffy's eyes shot daggers at him, but she took a seat on the arm of the chair, if only to shut him up. But, Spike wasn't going to let it go at that. He tugged her down onto his lap, forcing her arm around his neck. "I'm gonna kill you," she hissed in his ear.

"Now, now, let's have dinner first," he teased.

Janice headed to the kitchen. "I'll get the hot dogs going. Buffy, where are your pans?"

"In the cabinet next to the stove. I'll come help you."

"No, you stay there with your friend," Janice said with a grin.

Buffy felt herself blushing at the looks Janice was giving her and squirmed a little on Spike's lap. He tightened his hold around her waist. She blushed even more at the feel of something hard poking the underside of her thigh.

"Stop that," Spike murmured into her ear before placing a kiss on the sensitive spot just behind the lobe. As Buffy winced at the sudden surge of lust between her legs, Spike cheerfully turned his attention back to the two young men on the couch. "So, you just travel from town to town, going with the flow, so to speak?"

"Yeah, man, Lawrence is pretty cool in the summer. Winter we try to go someplace a little warmer. Gonna try New Mexico, check out Roswell and all that other weird stuff this Fall," Quinton said smiling, taking sips from his beer, apparently resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to get anywhere with Buffy.

Spike nodded in understanding. "I used to do that, travel from place to place. Thought I'd found a place to settle down, but things got a little hot, so I'm on the road again. I have some family in New Orleans, so I'm heading there...well, maybe with a layover here. Lawrence has certain attractions." He leered at the girl sitting very still on his lap and winked at the guys.

Buffy wanted to hit him very badly.

"How may hot dogs do people want?" Janice called from the kitchen. People placed their orders and Tad went to set out dishes and cutlery on the table.

Buffy turned her head and took a hold of Spike's chin as if she was going to kiss him. "Do you want a hot dog, luv?" she asked sweetly.

"Only if it's real dog," he said quietly with a grin.

"Oh, no, pet, you gotta try one. They're made from animal byproducts," she teased, her eyes gleaming wickedly.

Spike frowned and his eyes narrowed. "There's only one animal byproduct I want," he muttered, then kissed her hungrily to shut her up.

Buffy came up for air gasping and Spike grinned, taking a swig of beer. Rolling her eyes, Buffy gave in and relaxed on his lap, hoping the evening would get easier.

*****

Part five

The evening with Buffy's new friends went reasonably well. They all ate hot dogs and chips--even Spike--and relaxed,chatting on a wide variety of subjects.

After dinner Spike made sure that Buffy spent most of the rest of the evening on his lap. Her mind protested, but her body was too willing. She liked being held by him.

Buffy listened to him comparing and contrasting the differences between punk rock of the seventies to modern music and found herself drowning in his voice.

"Okay, what about the new swing movement?" Tad asked. "Can it really compare to the real thing?"

Spike shook his head. "No. It's fun and great stuff to dance to, but nothing beats the early swing music. Cole Porter, Glenn Miller--that was great music, a great scene. I think it's just a case of one more thing coming around again. Seems to be the way the world goes."

"Yeah, if we wait long enough, maybe your beloved punk will return," Buffy teased. Spike growled in her ear and she giggled.

"Well, although this discussion is fascinating, we better head out if we want to make it back to the campground before full dark," Janice said, diplomatically.

Buffy scrambled off Spike's lap to help Janice gather up the extra food.

"We'll leave you two alone to...talk," Janice whispered to Buffy with a grin. Buffy glared at her friend and handed her the extra beer from the fridge. "I can leave that for Spike, if you want."

"It's not his drink of choice."

Janice added the beer to her bag. "Have fun."

"Go away."

Janice, Tad and Quinton said their goodbyes and headed out. Buffy looked at the sun setting in the west, then closed the door, slowly turning back to Spike, who rose to his feet and slid his hands into his back pockets. They stared at each other for a minute.

"Want to go back to bed?" Spike asked.

Lust hit her hard and she swallowed, blinking her eyes. "Yeah."

Spike held out his hand and Buffy took it, letting him lead her to her bedroom. Once there, she turned on the fan, sending some air moving around the stuffy room. Spike pulled her into his arms, running his hands up her back under her t-shirt and then kissed her.

Helplessly caught in sudden desire, Buffy responded, sliding her fingers into his short hair, her lips twisting hungrily against his as their tongues met and caressed. Her hands moved down over his cool body and slid around his waist. She had been sitting pressed against that cool chest most of the evening...and she loved it. The feeling of chilled skin next to her heated flesh aroused her and she wondered if a human would ever make her feel the same way.

Spike lifted the t-shirt over her head, then resumed kissing her as he pressed her hard-tipped breasts to his chest, smiling as she gasped and squirmed against him. Slipping his hands into the waistband of her shorts, he pulled them down, letting them fall to the floor. Buffy stepped out of them, leaving her in a pair of white panties, but not for long. They too joined the rest of her clothes in a pile on the floor.

Cupping her buttocks, Spike lifted her, pressing her against his arousal. Buffy wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck, clinging to them as their tongues dueled.

Although he could feel her wetness against his stomach, Spike tried to urge her legs down, but she held on tightly. "Slayer," he murmured between kisses. "Let go so I can touch you."

"Are touching me," she growled, biting his chin, then moving her mouth down to suck on his throat.

"I can't exactly reach your breasts are any other important part of you," he began to protest, then groaned as her teeth scraped across his jugular.

"Don't care. Just do it."

Spike's eyes widened at the demanding tone of her voice, then he shuddered as she sucked on his neck. The lust in his loins grew too intense and he found himself moving them, nearly slamming her back against the nearest wall. Pressing her there, he reached down and managed to undohis jeans, freeing his throbbing erection. As his jeans slid down his legs, his hands returned to her trembling bottom and lifted her.

Their eyes met and held, then he thrust her down on his erection and Buffy moaned, closing her eyes, writhing against him as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she moved on Spike, thrusting with him, her heels drumming against his back.

Grunting in pleasure, Spike caught her lips again in a hungry kiss. Buffy ground against him, her sweaty body sliding easily on the wall as she rolled her head and keened in need.

As her inner muscles clamped around him Spike exploded in ecstasy, filling her in hard thrusts. Shaking, he slipped from inside her and kicked off his jeans before stumbling over to the bed with her still clinging to him. Falling on his back, he sprawled Buffy on top of him. She was panting and trembling from unfulfilled desire. Squirming, she ground her pelvis against his leg and Spike grabbed her hips, tugging her up his body.

Intent finally penetrated her swirling mind and Buffy scrambled over him until she was kneeling over his head whimpering. Spike's hands caught her buttocks and brought her down to his mouth.

She was hot and wet, nearly burning his tongue as he lathed her clitoris, causing her to moan and jerk in his hands. As he moved her on his mouth and the desire built deep inside her, Buffy twisted her nipples in her hands, sending bolts of heat through her.

Suddenly his lips closed over her and Buffy yelled. The tight pleasure broke, sending shock waves through her. Whimpering she ground down against him until the tension was totally released, then toppled over to the side of the bed in a boneless heap. Gently, Spike scooted farther up the bed and lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She was panting, her eyes closed, her body gleaming with perspiration and trembling in satisfaction.

As she felt him caressing her arm, Buffy opened her eyes and looked up at him. "We're insane," she whispered.

Spike grinned languidly. "Insanity can be fun, Slayer."

Wrapping her arm across his cold chest, Buffy pressed herself closer, letting his lack of heat numb her sensitized body. They lay there quietly for several minutes, then Spike carefully moved her away from him and sat up.

"The sun's down."

"Uh huh."

"I need to feed, Slayer."

Buffy felt a different kind of chill sweep her and she curled herself into a ball, not wanting to think about that or the undeniable fact that she had just had passionate sex with a killer. Listening to him dressing, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

"When I come back, we're going to talk."

She shook her head. She didn't want him to come back. She didn't want him to go...

Spike crouched down in front of her, understanding her reaction probably better than she did. Gently he touched her cheek and her eyes flew open. "Slayer. You just fucked a killer. Get used to the idea."

Buffy's eyes blazed and she shot off the bed, grabbing her t-shirt off the floor. "Bastard."

Spike chuckled. "But then, so did I." He headed for the bedroom door and Buffy spun around as she tugged the t-shirt over her head.

"If you come back, I'll have a stake waiting," she promised.

He threw his answer over his shoulder. "No you won't." Spike left the room and Buffy slumped onto the bed, her shoulders hunching her over.

"Please don't kill," she whispered, knowing it was futile. Knowing she would let him back in that door and probably back into her bed. She needed him too much...and needed to understand why. She didn't think it really had much to do with Spike personally, although she had always enjoyed their banter and his intelligence. If a person had to have a mortal enemy, he was a pretty good one to have.

Buffy sat on her bed, stunned. Spike had gone to feed...to kill a human being. How could she have let herself ignore that fundamental part of him?

Fury swept through her and Buffy stormed into the bathroom, stripping the t-shirt over her head. Turning on the cold water, she stepped into the shower and yelled in shock as the water hit her. As her body adjusted to the temperature, she grabbed soap and a washcloth and began to scrub her body, trying to rid herself of Spike's touch.

This was becoming a bad habit. She craved his touch...but when reality returned...he was a vampire, a demon, a killer. He was out there killing...and she had given herself to him eagerly...joyfully. The lips that had kissed her with such tender hunger were now satiating another hunger.

He was killing. She should have stopped him. Why hadn't she stopped him? Screaming into the spray of cold water, Buffy rubbed the sponge over her breasts, digging deeply into skin that had so recently flushed at a demon's touch.

Buffy's skin reddened from the cold water and her hard scrubbing, but she kept going, washing from head to toe, desperate to erase his touch from her skin.

It didn't help. She had turned her back on everything, betrayed everyone she loved and everything she believed in--family, friends, her home, her duty...She had learned to live with that. Existing from day to day, not thinking, not remembering.

And then he had dropped into her life, forcing her to remember, forcing her to feel. Emotions buried for two months were swelling inside her, driving her insane...and memories...

Screaming, "NO," she squeezed her eyes shut against the images of her greatest betrayal. Shivering at the cold, Buffy continued to scrub her aching body, wishing, praying that the scourging of her flesh would help cleanse her soul.

Finally, gasping for breath, Buffy turned off the water and staggered from the shower. Staring into the mirror over the sink, she saw a wild-eyed stranger. A stranger who had let a demon fuck her, not once, but twice. A stranger who had reveled in the pleasure that demon gave her. For two months, this stranger had been the only reflection Buffy had seen.

The icy, hard woman in the mirror was not a Buffy Summers any one from her past would recognize. Physically she was the same...but on the inside...She was whatever that Buffy Summers had evolved into...a shell of the seventeen year old girl from Sunnydale. This woman was a survivor. She could exist by ignoring the past, the memories, the emotions.

Except...that when Spike touched her...instead of bringing her closer to death...he brought her to life. During sex she could exist in the present, but as soon as her body calmed, long dormant emotions threatened to escape. Against her will, Spike was making her feel...and she hated it. The icy woman in the mirror was beginning to melt...

Fear swamped her. Fear of buried emotions. Fear of this strange need she had for a demon. Fear of her memories. The woman in the mirror was shaking, shattering.

Buffy couldn't bear to watch her destruction. Screaming, she brought her doubled fists crashing into the mirror.

*****