Title: Heart and Soul

Author: Tiana

Reviews: Yes and please and thank you.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to Spike, Buffy or any other BTVS characters. But if anyone’s offering, I’ll take Spike.

Distribution: Just ask at tianabelle@hotmail.com

Summary: Set in the middle of Season 6. Spike's struggle to get a soul and Buffy's struggle to love him...with or without it... B/S all the way, baby.









* * * * * Chapter 1: Patrol Play * * * * *



Sunnydale Cemetery, 10:15 p.m.

I can’t stand it. I really can’t. Why do I want something, someone I just shouldn‘t have? Want is not a strong enough word... I crave, desire, need. When he saunters up to me and cocks that eyebrow, I experience a feeling that no one has found a name for. It consumes me. He is everything I shouldn’t have and everything I can’t live without tied up in a delectable leather-wrapped package. So, naturally, I punch him.

"OW! Bloody hell, woman! I didn’t even say anything to you!" Spike loses all his swagger as he checks his nose for damage.

"Well, you were thinking something! And it was wrong! I TOLD you ...it can’t happen again." My certainty wavers by the end, but maybe he didn’t notice.

"What’s that, luv?" Reassured that I didn’t break his nose, the glint is back in his eye. He did notice.

"You know what, and you’re not dragging me into this conversation again. We are done. Can we just get back to patrolling?"

"Fine, luv. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’ll drop it. Let’s see if we can dust some more of my old friends and family to make the evening extra special." Sarcasm. There’s a shocker from the mouth of Spike.

The rest of the evening passes without too much incident. A couple more vamps make the mistake of crossing our paths, but all in all, a pretty quiet evening. Now, the part that makes me weak. Saying good night. As we finish our lap of the last cemetery near my house, I turn to Spike. Better do it quick and above all, avoid eye contact. I duck my head, letting my hair slide and cover my face a bit. "Alright, then. That should do it. Good night, Spike." I turn towards home, attempting a quick getaway.

I fail.

"Hey now, Slayer. What’s the rush? The night is young and so are we...well, you are, anyway. Surely we can find some more fun ?"

I pause, but I don’t turn around. It’s not a good idea to make eye contact, Buffy. I’m chanting it to myself, no eye contact, no eye contact. " We’re not having any more of that kind of fun, Spike." My voice is quiet, restrained. I hope he can’t hear how my breath is catching in my throat.

"Never said anything of the kind, now did I? Guess your mind is the one wandering down that path, eh?" He’s smirking, I just know it. I can hear it in his voice. "I was thinking of some pool down at the Bronze. Or maybe darts, luv. They just put up the boards and you’re awfully good with pointy things."

"Spike..."

"Slay...Buffy. Can you turn and look at me, luv?" Damn him. Just when I am thinking I can write him off as sleazy, he turns all Prince Charming again. I turn a little, look at him out of the corner of my eye. Maybe that doesn’t count as eye contact...

"Just come with me to the Bronze for a little while." He stops, looks down for a minute, his brow creases, and then his eyes are back on me. Oh man, there it is. Eye contact.

Huge sigh. I crack under the power of those baby blues. "Okay. But no funny stuff, I mean it, Spike." I start to walk off quickly, forcing him to trail behind me "I AM awfully good with pointy things..." My voice pitches higher. "...and if you don’t stop looking at my ass, you will find yourself on the business end of one!"

"WHA...! Alright, fine..." He runs to catch up with me, probably wondering how I knew what he was doing. It’s because I know him, know him very well....and it’s exactly what I would have done in the same situation.

* * * * *

The Bronze, 11:30 p.m.

"Something to drink, Slayer? I’m gettin’ a beer." I give him a look. He knows I can‘t hold my booze. And let’s not forget, beer bad.

"Just a Coke. Uh..thanks." It always throws me when he’s nice. He acts like just a regular guy instead of the vampire I know him to be. I just shake my head. Stay strong, Buffy. Evil. Soulless. Thing. He is not the man for you. Hell, he’s not even a man. Get a grip! And stop talking to yourself! He’s back!

"Your Coke, luv." He hands it to me, gently brushing my fingers as he does. I wonder if he did that on purpose just to see me quiver the tiniest bit. The look on his face confirms that he did. " I got us the first lane over here seeing as it is your first time...playing darts, I mean. That way any stray darts have less risk of injuring an innocent bystander."

"Ha Ha, Spike. Do you really think I will miss that big board? I’ve been throwing knives since I was 15, I think I can handle darts. Now...move out of the way. " I grab a hold of the tip of the dart, and wind up, preparing to throw it just like a dagger.

"No no, pet, you’re scaring the locals." People do seem to be backing away a little bit. "This way...."

He takes my hand, releases the dart and rotates it so I’ve got my first two fingers and thumb on the shaft just below the flights. I’m so distracted by his cool touch on my suddenly hot little hands, that I don’t realize he is now behind me, his chest lightly pressed against my back as he reaches around. He’s got his hand around my hand on the dart.

"You hold onto the shaft very lightly, don’t grab it. Just lightly hold it with the tips of your fingers.." He’s moving my fingers and I think I’m starting to get dizzy from the proximity. Did he just say shaft? Mind! Out of the gutter!

" Now look down the shaft and line it up with where you are shooting. That would be the bullseye, luv."

I swallow hard and whisper ,"Yeah, I figured that." Where is all my tough talk now? I’m just putty in his hands. His firm cool hands that are all over my.... what is he saying?

"...release and then follow through with your arm. And there you have it. Darts 101." Whoops, I missed the middle part of my lesson. I peek at the guys in the next lane, deciding to copy them and try to fake it. Slayer skills should help me somehow, right?

"Right, right. Okay." He can totally tell I wasn’t listening. Why does he have to know me so well?

"Here, I’ll guide your first throw. Just relax." RELAX? He’s standing directly behind me, one hand wrapped around mine and one...where is the other one?

On my HIP! And I’m going to relax?

I have to act like he is not having any effect on me. Deep breaths, slow the heart rate. Try not to fall into that thick leather smell, that oh-so-Spike way of smelling like the night air, cool and crisp and a bit dangerous. Just makes me want to breathe him in. But first, relax.

"Slayer! Hello, slayer strength a bit of a problem here. Relax!" I am clutching the dart so tightly my fingertips are white. I let up. "There we go, now bend at the elbow and throw..." He guides my arm in a fluid motion and the dart ends up just outside the bullseye. I’m following through like he said, so my left arm is now pointing towards the dart board and his arm is stretched the length of it, hand still on my hand. I don’t think I can move. He slowly bends my arm back with his and turns me toward him, still holding my left hand. His eyes are the deep blue of the night sky.

"Not bad, luv. Not bad at all..." he says it low and syrupy, nearly purring. I don’t know if he means the throw or something else entirely, and I’m not going to ask. I quickly pull my hand out of his and take two steps back. I back into the tall table with our drinks and nearly topple it. Trying to recover, I turn and grab my Coke. The glass is sweating from the heat in the bar, little drops of moisture running down the sides. I feel the same way. He’s still looking at me when I bring the glass to my lips and slowly sip. I’m watching him over the rim, trying desperately to break eye contact, but failing miserably. Finally, mercifully, he looks away, saving me. Then he moves closer, reaching past me to get his beer.

"Shall we play, then?"

Oh yes....

* * * * *

The Bronze, 12:45 a.m.

I’m laughing hysterically. I don’t remember Spike being this funny before. Of course, this could all go back to the fact that my Cokes became rums and Coke awhile back. I’m not drunk though. I’m just giddy. I’m finally starting to forget my worries. Just for tonight. Willow is home with Dawn and I’m out with my man...my mortal enemy! Mortal enemy! He is not my man. He was my plaything, my toy and it was wrong wrong wrong. I wish he would stop staring at me. Maybe it’s because I’m just laughing and having my own internal conversations. "What are you lookin’ at, mister?"

"I would tell if it wouldn’t get me staked, luv. I prefer to un-live a bit longer yet..."

"Awright, Spike, I’ll give you one Get Out of Staking Free card. Tell me what is on your mind."

"That’s a loaded question, Slayer. How ‘bout I take the card and redeem it a later date, when I really need it?"

"Well, okay, if that’s the way you want to do it... Now where were we... I remember, I was kicking your undead British ass at darts! I thought this was some kind of English sporty thing. Why am I so much better at it than you, old chap?" I know what I am doing and I just don’t care. I like getting him riled up.

"I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and just let my darts do the talking, eh luv?" He locks his eyes on mine as he throws at the board. Bullseye. We’re playing Cricket, one throw per turn, and all he needs now is a 20. I need a double bullseye to win. I step up to the line. I’ve just got to win. Slayer pride and girl power and all that stuff. I squint down the dart, lining up the bullseye. I pull my arm back and just as I release, I feel a hand lightly pinch my ass. The dart swerves and I miss the bull completely, landing three inches to the right. "Oi! Luv, that guy just grabbed your arse. Want me to go after him?"

I spin around and don’t see anyone but him behind me. I close my eyes to a sliver and grind out, "Your turn." I know he did it and I could bitch him out, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction. We’ll see how well he throws with a distraction named Buffy at his side. With practiced ease, Spike spins the dart in his hand and then lines up his shot. I wait for his arm to start moving forward and then stand on my tiptoes and suck his earlobe between my lips for a split second. His reaction is immediate and the dart ends up stuck into the wall above the board. "Bloody hell!" He turns on his heel to give me a lashing and I’m standing there sipping my drink.

"Oh, is it my turn, now? Bad luck, that...I’ll get a different dart since that one is too high for me to reach..." I grab a dart, set my drink down and move to the line. " Spike?"

"Yeah?" He’s still stuck somewhere between mad and completely aroused by my recent actions.

"Wanna place a wager on this game? I win, I pick the prize. You win, you pick..."

"Pick anything?"

I turn to look at him. I am truly out of my mind tonight, but it really feels damn good. "Anything."

"Abso-bloody-lutely, Slayer." I know he is really hoping I’ll miss now. He naturally assumes his choice will be more to his liking. Little does Spike know what I’ve got in mind. I’ve got to stop kidding myself. He’s not my man. Ha. Tonight, he is whatever I want him to be. I turn and focus on the board, aiming ever so carefully. I give him a warning look over my shoulder. He shows me his hands, proving they are nowhere near my ass. I turn back to the board and close my eyes. When I open them, I am completely focused and I throw. Double bull.

"Oh, bloody hell. Guess the party’s over."

I slam the rest of my drink and take his hand, dragging him towards the back door. "Guess again."

 

* * * * * Chapter 2: Slow Motion * * * * *



Alley behind the Bronze, 12:55 a.m.

I drag Spike through the back door and without a word, slam him against the brick wall in the alley. He is startled to say the least. I’ve got one hand on his chest, holding him at arm’s length as I make eye contact that is turning my insides to jelly. "Buffy?" I think I’m scaring him a little.

Good.

"Look, Spike. Like I’ve said before, this is all wrong between us. I can’t love you, I just can’t. And believe it or not, I don’t want to hurt you. But I do feel something. Something visceral, something deep. It draws me to you..."

My eyes break from his and light briefly on his lips. Back to the eyes. "..and if I wasn’t a little tipsy right now, I wouldn’t be telling you any of this. My life is screwed up as it is without admitting that I can’t get you out of my head. Out of my heart."

His eyes are softening as my grip on his shirt loosens a bit. I feel tears welling up in my eyes without permission. "And I’ll admit it, since I seem to be spilling my guts all over this filthy alley. I want to surrender to you. I want to." I take a deep breath. He opens his mouth, hoping to get a word in. "No, don’t interrupt. If I stop talking, I won’t start again." His mouth clamps shut again. He’s never heard me reveal this much before. " I would give you my body." A small smirk plays with his luscious mouth.

" I would give you my heart." My breathing is rapid and he is unsure what to do, I can tell.

" But I cannot give you my soul . We match in everything but that and the rest don’t mean a thing without it." He closes his eyes and leans his head back on the alley wall. "Spike, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to express how sorry I truly am." I’m silent for a second.

"But the fact of the matter is, I won our bet. And I intend to collect on it." His eyes slowly open and I see they are wet. I start to lean towards him, pulling him in by his shirt. I smile ever so slightly. "Can we just enjoy tonight? Make it last forever, so I don’t have to decide what to do in the morning? So I don’t have to turn away from what I feel?"

I press my lips together for a second and look into his eyes as I get closer still. I slide my lids closed and gently touch my moist lips to his. Stars explode behind my eyes. At first, he doesn’t move. I know he doesn’t know what to feel about what I’ve said. I exert a little more pressure on his lips and he gives way. His hands come up from his sides and clutch my hips, pulling me tight against him. The kiss deepens as our tongues dance together. I let go of his shirt and rest both my hands, possessively, on his chest. I want him more than ever, even though I’ve just broken his non-beating heart. I feel like such a bitch, but he has no soul. Can a vampire really change without a soul? Maybe some, but enough? He still treads the dark side, and while I dance there myself, it can’t be my whole world. I need more.

Enough! Stop with the analyzing, Buffy. Kiss him.

We keep kissing ‘til I’m sure my lips are bruised. I pull away and look at him. "Let’s get out of here." He nods wordlessly. I pull him down the alley towards the street. We walk about two blocks in silence before he takes an unneeded breath and opens his mouth. I can read the tension in his jaw.

"Slaye...um..Buffy?"

"Yeah."

"I love you."

"I know."

"Good. I’m leaving town tomorrow."

I stop so suddenly, he gets a step or two ahead of me. "What do you mean? Where are you going? When will you get back?" I catch up and turn him towards me.

"I mean, I’m packing it in. I can’t be around you and love you like this anymore. I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if I’ll come back. If I wasn’t already dead, I would say you were killing me. I’ve offered you everything I’ve got and it is not enough. I can tell it hurts you too and I swore to myself I would never hurt you. It will be better for both of us this way."

He starts to walk again, his shoulders are tight and I sense his mind is made up. We walk for awhile in silence again and I trail slightly behind him, watching him walk. He lopes like a wolf, but still, I sense his feeling of defeat. His head hangs a little lower. We arrive in front of his crypt without another word spoken. I step in front of him, back to the front door. I can tell he expected me to head for home.

"Spike... I don’t want you to leave. I really don’t. But I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t give you what you want no matter how much love you feel." My heart aches with these words. We were having such fun earlier...and now all this pain. "Make love to me tonight. " He stops studying his feet and snaps his head up to meet my eyes. I’m smiling weakly at him. "Make me feel what you feel."

He reaches past me to open the door to the crypt. I step backwards into it, leading him into the dim room. A few candles are lit, near to burning out. He comes in, closes the door behind him. And he just looks at me, raking me with his dark eyes. I can just barely see his face in this light, the angular cheekbones casting shadows on his cheeks. His hair catches the flickering light. There is something very solemn about him...the way he looks at me, the way he moves. Neither one of us makes any sudden movements, afraid to break this quiet spell. The looseness brought on by drinking is gone. Our moves are taut and intentional. He moves around behind me and gently pulls my suede jacket, grasping the lapels and peeling it back. I feel it smoothly slide down my arms and off. I hear his duster drop to the floor with a dull thud. He leans in and brushing my hair aside, lightly kisses the back of my neck. I feel it all the way down my spine.

He breathes in my ear, "Come with me. Downstairs." I feel hypnotized. I nod and let him lead me away from the door.

Spike slips down the ladder to the lower part of the crypt. I start to descend slowly. It’s very dark, which doesn’t seem to affect him the way it does me. As I am reaching the last few rungs, I feel him around me. His hands are on the ladder, surrounding me as I reach the ground. I turn slowly inside the circle of his taut arms and try to look up at his eyes. There are a few candles sputtering down here, too, but it‘s so dark. The flames flicker a little bit and I catch a brief glimpse of his eyes. I see so much emotion there...pain and love and some other indefinable thing. It shakes me to see it. He is mere inches from me, I can feel his breathing on my face. The breathing he doesn’t need to do, but seems to be too strong a habit to break.

He leans toward me so slowly I’m not sure he’s moving ‘til his cool lips meet mine. I blink several times, and then melt into his mouth. Just as I start to respond, he pulls away. I nearly moan out loud, my eyes still closed as I feel the proximity of him disappear. Everything I said to him earlier is out of my head. I just want him tonight. The rest of the world can keep spinning, but we are separate from it down here. Time is ours to toy with.

I finally open my eyes. He is across the crypt, lighting new candles. He does it slowly, moving from area to area, until there is a soft golden glow throughout the crypt. The warmth of it makes him look alive. Spike takes the match from the last one and brings it to his mouth, pursing his lips to blow it out. He looks at me again, and I feel it like a physical force. His look is solid and pulsing. I start taking steps towards him, not really aware of my legs, just my need to be closer to him. Now.

"Buffy." He just breathes my name out. And in it he speaks volumes. He loves me, he needs me, he wants me, he misses me already.

He is in pain.

I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to get the pain out before it drowns me. I close the gap between us quickly now, putting my hands on the sides of his face, and pulling him to me. We kiss. Soft, then harder, more frantic. The strength of a Slayer and the force of a vampire battling it out with our tongues. I want to bite him, devour him, lick him head to toe. I just can’t get enough. His hands are running down my back. I shiver at their cool touch on my steaming hot skin. He pulls away a little and I think he is leaving, it’s too much.

But no, it’s not that. His hands have found the ties that are holding my top on. He slowly pulls the one on my lower back. I shiver as his cool hands trail across my spine. He takes one of the next ones in his left hand and the next in his right. Pull. All the while, he is planting small kisses on my lips. He reaches under my hair at my neck with both hands and pulls the last tie, painfully slow. The bow comes undone and he brings the ends around front and down, pulling the scrap of black fabric down my now completely exposed torso. Goosebumps run up my arms and down my back, making my breasts tight. His fingertips graze the nipples and I feel myself getting wet. He is worshiping me with his hands and his eyes. The frantic feeling we shared minutes earlier has faded again.

Our world is revolving in slow motion and he and I both are going to savor every last second of it.

He puts one arm around my back and starts to pull me towards him. I fight back a little bit, stopping him with my eyes. It’s my turn. I reach for the top button that is done on his slate blue button-down. I undo it carefully. I kiss the hollow in his neck that is now more fully exposed. He moans in his throat very quietly. Next button, another kiss. Lightly blowing on the wetness, causing him to twitch and grab onto my shoulders. One more button, and I can get my hands inside his shirt. I run up his chest, using my nails ever so lightly. And then my hands slide back down. Pop pop. The last two buttons are removed suddenly and I fling his shirt open. My hands come to rest on his tightly carved abs as I look up at him, a slightly devilish smirk on my face and in my eyes.

Spike smiles very slightly back at me. Takes both my hands in his, lifting them up to his mouth one at a time, kissing the back of each gently. He flips the left hand and kisses the palm, places it around his neck. Then, he repeats this gentle act with the other. My fingers lace into each other on the back of his neck. The cool skin there can do little to quell the heat issuing from me in waves at this point. Spike grabs me around the waist and lifts. My legs wrap around his waist and I can’t keep my lips off his any longer. With the balance and grace of a night predator, he backs steadily towards the bed, never losing his grip on me or my hungry mouth.

He stops just short of the bed and I unwrap my legs from his waist and stand in front of him. I feel his hands slip from my waist to the front of my suede pants. His hands run from my skin to the smooth brown fabric hugging my hips. I feel him doing things down there somewhere in the distance.

A voice in the back of my head reports his actions, but I barely hear it. I am too busy with the kissing. Dear God, I don’t remember him being quite this good a kisser before. If I had a religion to swear off of, I would, just to spend endless hours kissing this devil.

But there is more in store than kissing. The voice is telling me this as I feel my pants start to shimmy down my hips like I’m shedding my second skin.

OH, the kissing stopped.

I open my eyes and my mouth to protest, but Spike is not there. I look down and see the top of his blond head. He’s kneeling down, pulling my boots off. Rolling my socks down my feet. I’m lifting my feet to help him, the voice in my head reports. I wouldn’t know, I’m still thinking about the kisses. My body cooperates without my brain’s permission. He tenderly pulls the pants all the way off and I’m standing there bare in front of him.

I feel Spike’s hands on my ankles and then a wet kiss somewhere below my knees. The feel of his palms slowly sliding up my legs and his kisses that follow the trail upwards is almost more than I can stand. In fact, it is literally more than I can stand. In the course of him ravishing me, I’ve ended up with my back to the foot of the bed.

I collapse onto the bed in slow motion, I feel like I’m melting ever so slightly around the edges. I notice the crisp fabric of his coverlet and randomly wonder at the fact that he’s washed it recently...for me? I smell fresh flowers from a detergent bottle and I can’t help but smile. The smile spreads across my face and I slowly open my lust-filled eyes halfway.

He is standing at the end of the bed, watching me wriggle on his bed. His hands are on his belt, pulling it back to undo it. I sit up and scoot up to him on my knees. I break the silence.

"Let me do that." I whisper, stilling his hands.

For some reason, it is imperative to me at that moment that he knows how badly I want him. I usually hide this information from him as long and as well as I can, never giving him that power over me. Just like everything else since I walked in his crypt tonight, I’m doing this different. I take one end of the belt and pull it out of his pants, enjoying the way I slightly jostle his waist as the belt slips around his jeans and off. I put the belt down next to me on the bed, wondering if I might want it later. I reach for the button on his jeans with both hands. I push my fingers down inside his waistband as I work the button. He inhales sharply at this contact so near his obviously swollen erection and throws his head back. I undo the button and pull the zipper down an inch or so...and stop.

He flings his head down to look at me and I point to his feet. Boots. From my perch on the bed, I watch him unlace the boots and throw them away with his socks. Better. He stands back up and I think of something I saw on TV once. What the hell... I lean in towards his pants and grab a hold of the zipper with my teeth. The metal sound rasps louder than ever as I know Spike is holding his non-existent breath, taking in the show. My hands are around his hips on his ass. This has not escaped his attention either. As I get the zipper down near the bottom, I hook my hands around his waistband in the back and tug. The leather squeaks a little, it is cool like his skin under my hands. I release the zipper and push his pants down as far as I can. The proximity of my mouth and my hair just brushing against his cock finally crack his veneer.

He pushes me back on the bed suddenly, crawling the rest of the way out of his pants as he drags me up the bed with him. He is completely naked now. I’d long since learned he didn’t bother wearing anything under those tight pants. I want my hands on every part of him at once. His skin is like carved stone, but more supple. I trace the lines and edges of his muscles, amazed again at the spareness of him. There is nothing wasted, nothing extra. He is finely toned at every turn. Perfect.

Spike meets my eyes briefly as he pulls me onto the soft pillows at the head of the bed. In that passing second, as the candles on the bedside table cast a warm glow on his features, I see a look in his eyes that makes me nearly weep. A look so vulnerable, so wide open. I didn’t know he was capable of it. Then, the lust that is warming him from the inside out takes back over and darkens them to midnight.

He kisses me on the lips once and I want him to stay forever. Instead, he slides down a little, kisses underneath my chin and then the hollow of my neck. He traces my right collarbone with the tip of his tongue. I shiver. He hasn’t even touched me anywhere else and yet I feel like I’m drowning in my own moisture. He knows it too. I see him smile. I feel myself smile in response, though he does not see it.

The hands he had placed on my shoulders are sliding down my arms. He moves down with them, kissing the inside of one elbow and then the next. I have never had a man document his love for every square inch of me like this man. Man? I shake my head slightly at my slip. He’s not a man, but ohhhhh... In my distraction, he’s shifted over to my breasts. Spike lightly kisses the place between them. Then he takes the right nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it like a piece of candy. His left hand is cupping the other breast, lightly brushing that nipple to attention. I realize suddenly that I’ve stopped moving. Not even sure I’m breathing.

I’m afraid if I touch him, he will stop. Break the spell. And I don’t want him to stop.

I’ve got my hands tangled in my own hair stretched above my head and my eyes are glazed over a bit, alternately looking at the ceiling in supplication and watching the top of his blond head and strong hands map me. I hear a moan and it takes a second to realize it was me. Spike knows though. He lifts his head from the right nipple and blows a bit of cool air on it just as he pinches the left. The moan escalates dramatically as goosebumps run screaming over the expanse of my exposed skin. "Too much, luv?"

Ohhhhhh...wait, he’s talking to me. I breathe out "No..no..not too much. " My voice drops an octave.. "Just right."

I’m starting to itch inside my skin. The slow worship is taking its toll on me. I want it to last and last...and I want to feel him in me this second. He does not ask my preference and I am at his mercy. And to my shock, I like it. It’s almost like...I trust him. But that can’t be it. I don’t trust Spike...do I?

Back to that thought later, he is on the move again. His tongue is tracing the line from between my breasts to my belly button, pausing for kisses to mark the route. I start to tense up as I know the destination of this road. Of course, I knew it all along, but now the anticipation is getting painful.

His smooth hands are tracing the curve of my body, leaving my breasts, in at the waist, back out at the hips. His thumbs press in at my hip bone as his mouth reaches the blond curls at my apex. My legs are so numb I don’t even realize he’s spread them, the width of his body slowly forcing them apart as he slid down. He’s still moving and I have definitely stopped breathing. This night is nothing like the others. No frantic desperation, no quelling of sorrow in a frantic tussle in the bed. Just this...this memorization. Before he leaves. Oh god, he’s leaving.

Oh GOD! His tongue has found my clit. Just visiting, though. He lightly licks it, just making it swell a bit more. Then he runs his tongue down my lips and back up the other side. And then that cool heaven darts inside. I hear a low wail, a groan somewhere outside me, but again, it turns out to be me.

My body is shimmying side to side, trying to alternately escape and aid this attack on my arousal. He just keeps it up, relentless. The same pattern over and over, ‘til tears are squeezing out of my tightly shut eyes. I’m definitely breathing now, breathing so hard I threaten to burst. Rapid, short breaths as I try to regain my balance, my sanity. As my noises bounce off the walls of the crypt, I realize Spike is so so quiet. I’ve never been around him when he’s been like this. I worry despite myself and my writhing pleasure. I’m also not sure how much longer I can take this...oh god, not much longer. I feel the low ripples in my pelvis begin. I pant harder and then I hold completely still for just a split second, willing it to happen. Spike can sense the orgasm coming and he shows not one lick of mercy, literally. He dedicates himself to the clit, knowing its sensitivity is sky-rocketing. The repeated pressure there forces a scream from me as the waves crash.

HARD.

This is no localized orgasm, this is head to toe, fingertips to my knees and beyond. The voice in my head reports I am not just screaming in an unintelligible manner as I‘ve done in past encounters.

I am screaming his name.


 

* * * * * Chapter 3: Drowning * * * * *





My heart is pounding as I realize what I just did. Talk about revealing yourself. I was screaming Spike at the top of my lungs. It’s not like he wouldn’t notice. I’m starting to regain feeling in my legs now and becoming aware of Spike’s location. After I regained my stillness, he moved up a little and his blond head is lying below my breasts, looking off into the darkness. I swear I feel moisture on my stomach. Is he crying? No...he couldn’t be. I’ve never seen Spike cry in my life. I’ve seen him come close, but never let the floodgates open. I wonder if he cried when I died? I never thought to ask. Too wrapped up in my own problems with the clawing my way out of the grave, ripped from Heaven and so on. But right now I am sure of it. He’s shaking ever so slightly. I feel this chasm open in my chest. _I’ve_ caused this? It’s my fault? I still feel all wiggly and satisfied and he’s drowning. It can‘t go like this.

"Spike?" No response. "Spike...please."

I can’t tell if he didn’t hear me the first time or just was trying to compose himself. Finally, a muffled voice. "Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

I forget how fast he can move. He saves his vampiric skills for fights most of the time. Before I can blink, his mouth is on mine. I taste salt on his lips and my fears are confirmed. I grasp his hair in my hands to keep him there. I kiss him soundly, roughly, gently, savagely, tenderly, trying to erase the memory of those gentle sobs from this supposedly evil thing. His tears are drying as I feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against me. I release my clutch on him ever so slightly, pulling our lips apart so I can meet his eyes. They are nearly black and until that moment I had no idea how much he is controlling himself. He wants me so badly, but he is waiting for my approval.

"Spike, be in me. Be in me now."

Again, with the lightning fast reflexes, I am stretched fully by his thrust and one of those moans rolls off my tongue and right into his mouth as he kisses me again. He does not move for what seems like years. It’s as if the very act of being inside me, with me, is what he craved all along. His welcome into my being is like a climax. I think he puts me on too high a pedestal, I fear the height from which I can fall. God, it never occurred to me that this was something I feared. I fear disappointing Spike?! I’ve always been so derisive of him, made him feel so unworthy. But in some ways, it is the way he makes me feel so worthy that scares me. I could disappoint him and this love that burns would burn itself right out. And I must admit....whoa.

He’s started to move and it is rocking my world. I’m so wet and swollen from his previous actions and my nerve endings are still on fire. It burns and thrills all at once. His slow, methodical thrusts, almost all the way out and then back in suddenly. I feel my body jerk each time on impact, as if he is trying to plant his lust, his passion, his love so deep inside me it can’t get out. Hide it away so the world can’t kill it with questions.

I wrap my legs around his back as high as I can, deepening his access to my very core. I unconsciously closed my eyes when he started to thrust, trying to lock the sensation in by eliminating other distractions. But then I realize there is one 'distraction' I don’t want to miss. Right as Spike is going to thrust back into me, I open my eyes and find his eyes locked on mine.

I feel a hitch in his movement, almost surprise. He is used to watching my face during sex while I look away or close my eyes, not getting an invitation into my feelings through my eyes. His eyebrows knit together briefly as he looks at me. I am confusing him endlessly, something I seem to excel at. Maybe it’s because I am so good at confusing myself. His eyes are so tender, I caught him unaware and saw the raw emotion there. I may have been wrong before about his not being able to love. I just don’t know. I do know that I am starting to have trouble thinking straight. His rhythm is accelerating. My eyes are urging him on and I start to moan and step up my breathing. I reach back with both hands to grab onto the headboard.

I hear a slow, low sound from his mouth. Finally, after all this silence. I hold my breath to hear him and realize it is my name. Not slayer, not luv, not pet...Buffy. He murmurs my name between breaths, like a chant, like a spell. Over and over again. He’s driving me around the bend, over the edge with my own name.

Spike is getting louder and louder. As he comes closer and closer to climax, I realize something is changing. His voice is becoming more ragged and those eyes I am locked into are swimming in front of me. I think he is starting to cry again, but I then feel the strange sensation of moisture dripping out the sides of my eyes, running down into my hair.

It’s me. I’m weeping.

Spike’s eyes re-focus on me sharply and I can see he is afraid he’s hurting me. I also see that he will stop immediately if so. His eyes question me and his mouth opens slightly as he breaks the litany of my name. I shake my head and smile weakly at him. I’ve lost my voice suddenly, and so I simply mouth to him "Keep going."

He crosses the inches between us to kiss my left temple and then my right. Tasting my tears. He thrusts with renewed vigor and every entrance forces a cry from my lips. I am offering my own voice to the heavens to mix with his. His voice, which has roughened like sandpaper. Just as I feel the moment building to its point, Spike reaches down between us and presses on my clit. The heavens explode above me and I cry out as he roars his arrival. I feel the cool sensation of him coming inside me and I’m sure there is steam coming off us from the chemical reaction. I’m mewling like a kitten as he collapses slowly on top of me, his body losing all coordination in its pleasure. I swear I hear sizzling as his chilled skin kisses against mine, cooling the length of me just as I was sure to combust.

It was never like this before. Thoughts are swimming in my head as I stumble towards unconsciousness. It was feral and wild and it made me pant like an animal, but it never made me cry. His love burned into me with such power that it pressed tears from my eyes. Those eyes that have now slipped closed. He loves me. All the times he said it before and I never once believed it. Never once allowed myself to be loved. I lazily rub his back, not even sure if he is still with me. He may have blacked out already. His unnecessary breathing has stilled - a sure sign he is sleeping. I kiss his cheekbone, lightly lick his earlobe. Whisper with my last act of consciousness: "I love you too..." I can tell him again in the morning...

* * * * *

Spike’s bed, pre-dawn

I roll to one side and my arm reaches out for him. And reaches...all I feel is something sharp-edged...paper? I feel my heart skip and catch in my throat. I’m afraid to open my eyes as the whole evening rushes back over me. The heartbreaking things I said to him, the way he looked at me when he told me was leaving, our mutual worship of each other’s bodies, the mind-shattering climaxes, slipping off to sleep with love in my heart and my love resting on my chest. I’m sick as his words run through my head at breakneck pace. *packing it in....love you like this anymore...don’t know where I’m going ..don’t know when I’ll be back...killing me...swore to myself I would never hurt you...*

I am suddenly nauseous. I was so wrong about him. So wrong. I know with stomach-twisting certainty that he is gone. When I open my eyes it will be true. I fight it. My fingers are clutching the paper I find. It is firm...an envelope. I sit up in the bed and confirm what I already knew. Looking around, I see he is not here. I don’t even have to call his name. I feel his absence. I look down at the envelope in my hand and realize I’ve never seen Spike’s handwriting. It’s beautiful. I’m sure he thought that would be very inappropriate - that the Big Bad would have perfect penmanship. I laugh in spite of myself, hearing him deny it in my head. The laugh is hollow though. It says "Buffy" across it in dark black ink. I flip the envelope over and study the back. It is sealed with a red wax seal...a W in the middle. I am struck by this. He kept this stamp from his days as William? Why am I learning all these things about him after his disappearance?

This time the laugh is cynical and sharp. The voice in my head has become much less friendly. Because, Buffy, you didn’t want to learn those things beforehand. They would have made him seem human to you. He was easier to fight off as long as you kept him evil, a demon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a red candle on the bedside table, partially melted and lying on its side. It strikes me that he wrote this letter while I was sleeping. Right here next to me. My hand goes to my forehead as I am suddenly convinced beyond a doubt he kissed me goodbye there. I see him leaving the letter and pressing those soft lips to my brow, though I was sound asleep when it happened. I have to know what the letter contains, but I’m so afraid I’m shivering. I take a deep breath, shuddering a bit, and slide my fingers under the flap of the envelope.

My hands are trembling as I break the seal on the letter. I gingerly pull the sheets of parchment paper out. I lay the envelope aside on the pillow where I found it and unfold the pages in my hands.

Buffy,

I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, luv. At the same time, I couldn’t bear waking you. I was afraid one look into your eyes and I would lose my nerve. It kills me to walk out the door with your heavenly body tangled in my sheets, your golden hair spread on my pillow. It’s like I dreamed it. But as you told me, you don’t love me. You can’t love me. You can’t love THIS me. I know you have affection for me. I saw it in your eyes last night, Slayer. For a brief shining moment I thought it was love. But I cannot fool myself. Not anymore.

Indulge me, pet. My mind has wandered into the past while I write, sitting inches from you, listening to your gentle breaths. Let me tell you a few of the things I’ve never had the nerve to say.

I think I loved you from the day I met you. That night I saw you dance. No, not in the Bronze, out in the alley against that vamp. Didn‘t even need music. Kill you, yeah, I wanted to kill you then. Didn’t mean I didn’t like you. Lucky your mum showed up with that ax the first time I got a chance at your soft throat.

Dru knew it. I fought it. I never told you why she finally left me. She could smell the humanity on me. I loved a human, whether I knew it or not. She said the Slayer was all around me, covering me. Dru may be a complete loon, but she always had the sight. Rather than run to the bloody ends of the Earth to burn the humanity out of me, I went straight back to the scene of the crime. Sunnydale.

You know a lot of the rest, pet. I won’t bore you with history lessons. When I first realized I loved you, I fought it with every evil ounce of my body. Love the Slayer? Bloody hell. Waking to the love I felt for you was difficult to say the least. You started to trust me that year, though I didn’t know why. I tried to earn that trust, but still never expected it. But that’s you. You’re special. And when I let you down in the end... well, that was the lowest point of my existence. If I could have died over and over just to keep you from dying, I would have. I would have greeted the sunrise every day for a century just to have your light stay in this world. I cried and cried. Don’t tell anyone, though they did see me break down when we saw your body. With every bone in my body broken from the fall, I cried for you, luv. I cried for me. Like I told you, I saved you every night after that. In my head. I was faster, more clever, stronger, and in the end you were there. Alive and in my arms.

Little did I know or even think that one day you would truly be in my arms. You know the Scoobies never told me ‘bout the plan to bring you back, right? Saved their necks every other night for that whole summer and they didn’t trust me one bit. All of ‘em knew that I would rather see you stay dead than come back wrong. Or suffer again. Probably the first selfless feeling I ever had. But you came back. My heart burned that night. Now that you were back, you would know I was a failure. And yet, you never reproached me. Never told me I should have been faster, more clever or stronger. How could I not love you?

Believe it or not, I want love. Not just shagging and fighting and your grudging participation in both of them. I just...well, you deserve to be with a man you can love. You deserve better. I’ve told you before, not very well, but I have tried. You are better than the dark life I tried to drag you down into. I thought if I could just contain, maybe dim the blazing light that is your soul, you wouldn’t miss mine. One of many of my bloody brilliant plans that didn’t work. What right did I have to try and snuff that light? My bleedin’ right as a creature of darkness? I thank my stars every night that I was a fool. A fool to think your light could be swallowed up by my darkness. I was all wrong in my thinking. Better that I should step out of the dark. But how?

No one has made me feel like a man in over 100 years...hell, not ever. I was a bloody ponce in life. But you, you make me feel it. When I’ve got your golden skin against mine, I want to live. I haven’t wanted to live...well, again, not ever. I thought I was so bloody happy as a dead thing for a century. I killed, I drank, I rampaged over half the world. And it was all rot. Bloody rot. Why would you love this thing? A killer. It’s what I am. Or was... Maybe I can be more than what I am, though. It is this belief that takes me out of your warm embrace on this cold morning, pet. I’m leaving to become more. To become something...someone you can love. Someone you deserve. So, I’ll admit I shaded the truth to you earlier.

I will be back, Buffy.

Take care of yourself and the Bit.

My love,

Spike

The looping script blurs in front of my eyes as the sobs begin to wrack my entire body. He left me. Just when I woke to the love I felt for him. I throw myself back into his pillow, clutching the letter tightly, and raging against it all with the strength of a Slayer. The fact that he will return is cold comfort as I pour out my anguish into his pillow. His scent still lingers there and it makes me angry. It teases me with his distance. I sit up and throw the pillow across the room and hear glass breaking. I curl up in the bed, trying to find warmth where there suddenly is none.



 

* * * * * Chapter 4: Honesty * * * * *

Spike’s bed, morning

I wake from my disheartened sleep with puffy eyes and tangled hair. I know he’s gone. It’s the first thought in my head. My resolve is desperately trying to kick in. His departure is like another death, another loved one gone. I’ve been through this pain before.

Come on, Buffy. You’re the Chosen One. Get the fuck up and get dressed.

My right hand still grips the letter he left me. I gently lay it out, smoothing the wrinkles and folding it back up. I tuck it back into the envelope and turn it back over, lying it in front of me on the bed. I stare at it for a few seconds before I get up and start looking for my clothes.

As I rummage around on the floor, I start to notice a few of Spike’s things are missing. Drawers hang open on the ratty dresser he found, clothes hanging out. The spot on the table where he leaves his lighter and cigarettes is empty. A black bag he kept weapons in is gone, but most of the weapons lay strewn on the floor. Guess he had to pack in something. I realize how well I know his place. Despite the disgust with him and his lifestyle I threw in his face at every turn, I know this dark, dusty place like the back of my hand. Or rather, I know the man who dwelt here. The clothes he wore last night are gone from the floor. And wait, so is my shirt...I smile despite myself. Just like Spike. I can see him now with that little scrap of fabric tucked in his back pocket. The smile fades as the reality of the moment comes back to me. I find a black button-up shirt in his drawer and put it on. I bring the sleeve to my nose and inhale. There it is, his scent. Leather and copper, dark and crisp.

I stand at the foot of the bed, staring at the site of our lovemaking. And that is what it was...lovemaking. I feel my eyes burn again. I snatch the letter from the bed and tuck it into my waistband. I scramble up the ladder and find my coat by the door. To my shock, his duster lies there next to it. I pick it up and lie it gingerly across his chair. It is the most encouraging sign yet that he will actually return. I slam the door behind me and run from the scene as fast as I can, trying to dry the tears on my face with the wind.

I slow as I reach the house, hoping hoping hoping I can get in the house and up to my bedroom before Dawn wakes up. Last thing I need is for her to see that I’ve been out all night...and crying. I start to head for the front door and think better of it. I look at the tree in the yard. One I always think of as 'the tree Spike lurks behind.' My Slayer strength kicks in as I shimmy up it and scramble up the porch roof to my window. It creaks a bit as I open it, but I think I’m home free. I crawl in and look around. My door’s closed, looks like no one knew I was gone. I pull the letter out and slip it under my pillow. I throw my coat on the floor, peel off my pants, and start to un-button Spike’s shirt...but no. I’m keeping it on, just a little longer. I get under the covers of my bed and snuggle into his scent for a bit more sleep. Things will look better when I wake, I’m sure of it.

THUMP THUMP "Buffy!" THUMP "Buffy??"

"Huh...wha? Dawnie? Come in..."

"My God, you’re alive! Buffy, do you know what time it is? " Dawn goes to the curtains, flinging them open and the light blinds me. I try to peer at Dawn through the hand shielding my eyes.

"No, what time?"

"It’s 11:30! Are you gonna sleep the day away?"

"11:30. Wow. No, honey. I’m sorry. I’m getting up. Just had a rough night."

"Yeah, I never even heard you come in. Is there a new oogly-boogly to research?"

"No....just the same old thing. Vamps." I sigh deeply, wishing the "same old thing" was still in his crypt waiting for me. Damn, what am I gonna tell Dawn about Spike? She’ll notice he’s gone... well, she won’t notice immediately, I’ll have time to come up with something.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you wearing one of Spike’s shirts?"

*gulp* "Uh, what?" My mind is struggling to catch up. Shit shit shit. I wasn’t ready for this.

"Buffy, you are wearing one of Spike’s shirts. Why?"

"This old thing? Uh, this is mine. Not Spike’s." Did I convince her? Pretty lame. I doubt she’s buying.

Dawn rolls her eyes. "I’m 16 years old, Buffy. I think I can tell a man’s shirt from a woman’s. And I’ve seen Spike wear that very shirt!" Her voice pitches higher. I’ve wounded her teen pride for the millionth time. Damn.

I take a very deep breath and look at Dawn. I’ve got to start trusting her more one of these days. And she will eventually find out he’s gone. "You’re right, Dawn. It is Spike’s." I just let that statement hang in the air, looking at her with eyes pleading for understanding. Understanding what, I’m not quite sure yet.

She cocks her head slightly, studying my reaction. I see a light slowly begin to creep across her face. Wham, there it is. The dots have officially been connected. "BUFFY! Did you...did he...omigod!" She shrieks. I flinch.

"Dawn, wait. Calm down. Dawn!" Dawn has jumped onto the bed, cross-legged.

"Tell me everything!!"

"First of all, uh, no. Don’t get carried away, sweetie." She doesn’t even really hear me. Dawn is still lightly bouncing on the bed. Spike has been so many things to her...crush, protector, big brother, villain, father figure, hero. I wasn’t sure what her reaction would be. She was not thrilled when he chained me up that time, but then, neither was I. How things have changed. I smile wanly at the turn of events. She is truly happy about us being together. Weird. Her hands are flailing around a bit. "Earth to Buffy! Tell me what happened!"

"Dawn. Please." I swallow. This is going to be hard. I’ve never verbalized my feelings for Spike. To anyone. I’m not sure I can do it. Better start with the bad news. But which one is the bad news? She feels my seriousness and I can see her deflating slightly.

"Buffy? What’s wrong?" Her wide eyes are staring at me. She reaches over and touches my arm. "Are...are you okay?"

God, my sister is not a child anymore. Even she can see I feel shattered. My eyes are wet.

"Buffy?!" There is panic. Fear. "Is...he okay?"

The memories of the morning roll through me. Quietly, "he left." Pause. A whisper, "He‘s gone." The floodgates come crashing down, the dam bursts and the sandbags are not holding. My sudden tears freak her out even more as she leans over and crushes me with a tight hug .

"But...but why?"

"He loved me. He left because I told him I could never love him in return." Her arms twitch around me. She leans back slowly, loosening her grip, her wide eyes lock on mine.

"Buffy, if you don’t love him, why the waterworks? And why the shirt? I’m confused. And is he coming back? " I can see the threads of Dawn’s life unraveling further. How much more change can she take? How much more loss? And why can’t I stop crying?

* * * * *

Buffy’s bed, 12:30 p.m.

We’ve been talking for almost an hour. I feel so free all of a sudden. A huge weight is lifted. Dawn has listened to me spill my guts about the whole sordid affair. She hasn’t condemned me, questioned my motives or made me feel evil. All the things I feared. Of course, she likes Spike. Others are not so fond...especially those he’s tried to kill before. Naturally.

I so want to be a role model for her. I protected her from my life these last few months, hoping she would learn how to act from someone with more sense. Turns out I was stupid. No substitute for big sis in her mind. I’m not just her sister anymore, I’m pretty much the only family she’s got. Naturally, I leave out a lot of details. She IS still my little sister and I’m not giving her sex tips, especially not the kind Spike and I shared. I tell her I felt so sad when I came back. The world was too much for me. Spike helped me forget all that, made me feel safe, indulged my need to feel. I admit I used him. Not my proudest moment. I tell her I finally believe his love for me to be true. And then I reveal the terrible timing of my revelation about my feelings for him. And I actually say it out loud, for the first time.

"...I love him, Dawn."

"Oh, Buffy." Tears have long since formed in her eyes. She never expected the story to end so good and bad all the same time. "But he’s coming back, right?" I can see that losing another person in her life is threatening to release the welling tears. Her young mind is probably eight steps ahead of me, seeing us as a family, living happily ever after. And her vision is being threatened by him leaving. He has to come back. It’s hard to believe I’m only 22...talking to her makes me feel 50. All I see her are the obstacles to happiness. She looks right through every difficulty and complication, digging for that little bit of goodness and hope. I realize that is why she likes Spike. She can see right through his big bad facade. And he likes it, as loath as he would be to admit it. That’s why he loves his "little Bit."

I nod. My voice is starting to fail me. "His letter said he would, Dawnie." I brush a hair away from her face. "We just have to trust him to keep his word." She nods in response. We both look down at the bedspread, wondering what to do next. Finally, I speak. "Dawn, it’s Saturday. Let’s go out and do something. No sense in staying cooped up here on a beautiful day. Be my date for the day." I screw up my courage and give her a smile. She echoes my smile and pats my hand reassuringly.

"Of course, Buffy. I’ll get lunch going. You get dressed." She leaps from the bed and I hear her clatter down the stairs. Every move from that girl is so big - all arms and legs. I can’t help smiling. I can get through this. As long as the sun is shining, I can pretend he’s still around. I’m going to focus on making it up to Dawn. I didn’t really tell her everything, but enough. She is young and wants to believe in love. This talk would be substantially harder with any other Scooby. Let’s not get into that, just yet. First, a shower. Slowly, reluctantly, I unbutton his shirt and hang it carefully in the closet. I want to keep it nice. He’ll be back for it.



 

* * * * * Chapter 5: Angel * * * * *

A month later. Buffy’s house, 9 p.m.

My head is killing me. I massage my temples, trying to lessen the pounding. I knew that talking to Xander about Spike would be the hardest, that’s why I waited so long. But whew, I really underestimated the extent to which Xander dislikes "Deadboy." After two hours, the best I could do was make him promise not to stake Spike when he comes back. I guess some would call that progress. I groan and sprawl back on the couch. I can’t believe how hard this has been. After talking to Dawn, I decided it was time for Buffy to stop with the lying and begin with the truth-telling.

Anya was the easiest to tell. She just wanted details on the orgasms. Like how long did my legs go numb for and would I tell Xander how Spike did that thing with his tongue. Egad, no! The hardest part was getting her not to tell Xander ‘til I got to him. I can still hear her now, "But Xander and I like orgasms and you and Spike clearly do too. Shouldn’t he be happy for you? We‘ve got things in common to talk about during our double dates." Ha.

Talking to Willow and Tara was fine. Tara had an inkling about me and Spike already and Willow wasn’t completely shocked. Willow is so great she is even forgiving him for trying to kill her...twice. They seemed willing to accept my love for him and his for me. Naturally, they are worried. Not quite sure what it all means and if it will end well. Join the crowd, ladies.

Giles didn’t take it very well, but at least I got to do it over the phone. I could practically hear him cleaning those glasses over and over, massaging the spot between his eyes as I talked. He doesn’t approve, but in line with the Buffy standing on her own two feet theme, he supports me. As with everyone else, he offers to stake Spike if he hurts me. Do they forget that I’m the Slayer? If there’s any staking to be done, Mr. Pointy will be first in line.

I can’t decide if I should call Angel. We don’t talk anymore. He’s out of my life, and though I still hold a bit of love in my heart for him, I haven’t called. You can’t really expect the ex to sign off on me dating his soul-less childe, now can you? I do feel like I should tell him, though. Arghhhh. At least all this torturous discussion of my relationship with Spike has passed the time. I wish I knew where he went. I have no clue when he’ll get back. He could be halfway around the world. And what does he mean when he says he wants to be more than he is? Is he taking anger management courses or what?? Hypnosis so he can kick the habit of craving human blood? I hate not knowing.

Well, the night is still young. My conversation with Xander has already put me into a sour mood. Might as well put a cherry on the angst sundae. I reach for the phone and dial up Angel Investigations.

"Angel Investigations. We help the helpless. Can we help you?"

"Cordelia?"

"Yeeessss....who is this?"

"It’s Buffy."

"OH! Uh, hold on, okay?" *click* I flinch a little and turn to look at the receiver. She’s acting strange. And putting me on hold? Nice music, though...

*click* "Buffy?" His voice sounds incredulous.

"Angel! Is everything okay there? Cordy acted a bit weird just now."

"No, no. Everything’s fine. We’ve, uh, just got a client here." He does not sound normal. I hear loud music in the background...is that the Kinks? I hear the distinctive chords of "You Really Got Me" but no words.

"ANGEL! Are you guys doing Karaoke???"

"Karaoke? Are you kidding, Buffy? Of course not. " He covers the phone and I hear urgent whispers, replies and a door slam. The music is muffled now. "So, uh, what can I do for you?"

"Angel, you are acting seriously weird. What kind of client have you got there? A music demon? Hey, if you are all singing involuntarily, watch out . We had a...well, an incident awhile ago. And uh, let’s just say there was singing, dancing and spontaneous combustion. Not of the good. Even Spike rattled off a few numbers."

"Spike? Really? Well, that is something."

I’m really starting to think Angel drank some bad blood. I’ve never mentioned Spike’s name before and not heard a growl from him. He actually sounds interested. Interested and nervous. Whatever.

"Well, speaking of Spike.."

"Why? What do you....I mean, what?"

"Angel, settle down. I have to tell you something about Spike." I can’t believe I’m doing this. I should just hang up, pretend I dialed in my sleep or something. Yeah, sleep-calling. Happens all the time. Right? *sigh* "Well, things have changed with Spike lately."

"He didn’t get the chip out, did he?" Now, there’s the familiar reaction to Spike. Suspicion, anger. All the fun ones.

"Nooo....it’s just... Angel, I don’t know how to break this to you easy, but I wanted to let you know. SpikeandIareinvolved."

"Huh? You and Spike are what? You said it too fast, Buffy."

"Spike. And. I. Are. Involved."

"Involved in what? Is there another apocalypse?!"

Holy crap. Was he always this thick? "SPIKE AND I ARE DATING!" Whoops, didn’t really mean to yell that. "Only, he’s not here right now, so it’s weird..."

Silence.

More silence.

"Ange..."

He cuts me off, "Are you trying to tell me that you are WILLINGLY going out with, with Spike?"

"Yeah."

His voice takes on a stranger quality than before, as if he is trying to talk through clenched teeth. "Can you hold on? Thanks." *clunk* I didn’t even get a chance to say anything. He’s obviously put the phone down on a table or something. I can still hear sounds. More urgent whispers, voices rise, the music cuts off, the door slams and he’s back. "I’m back. Buffy, are you out of your mind? How can you trust him? What drove you to him?"

I’m starting to wonder why I called Angel in the first place. He’s sounding like a cross between a Dad and a jealous ex. I guess he does have the qualifications for the latter, but still. I didn’t call to be lectured.

"It’s a long story, but Angel, you just have to trust me. I..." I’m not telling him I love Spike. I’m tired of explaining it to everyone. There’s only one person I want to say it to and he’s not around. "I’ll be fine. We didn’t really tell anyone and I hated leaving my friends in the dark. I hope you’ll respect my wishes. He loves me, Angel. He won’t hurt me." No response. "Um, I should go...."

"Buffy...don’t hang up. Thanks for trusting me with this. I know it was hard to call. I can’t believe it myself, but I’ll try to respect what you’ve asked. You must really care for him. But if he hurts you...."

"I know I know. Take a number." I smile despite myself. "See ya." *click*

I did it. I told every person in my life about my love for Spike except for the very subject of my affection. And really, didn’t Angel take all of that a little too well? No yelling or anything. Huh. Maybe he’s starting to mellow in his very much older age. Huh. And where the hell is Spike, anyway? I flop back on the couch. Sleep now, think tomorrow.

* * * * *

Angel Investigations, Two Hours Earlier



Cordelia leans at the front counter, chin perched on one hand as the other flips through case files. She mutters to herself, "Demon... Demon... Demon. Same old, same old. Oh wait, here’s a warlock. Purple robes, so not a good look..."

WHAM. The front door slams open, smacking the wall.

"Anyone home? Angel, you big poofter, where are you?"

Cordelia’s mouth opens wide, and her chin slips off her hand. Nearly knocking herself out on the counter, she takes a few seconds to recover. "Sp..Spike?!.....ANGEL!"

Angel comes flying out of his office, papers flapping in his hand. "Cordy? What’s wrong?"

She just points at the blond vampire, now flopped down on one of the couches in the lobby, feet on the coffee table, smirking. "Why, Angel, I see you haven’t changed one bit. Funny thing that... I have."

With one swift motion, Angel swings over the counter and strides to Spike, picking him up by his shirt. "What the hell are you doing here?" he grinds out.

Spike puts his hands up in surrender. "Hey now, game face and everythin’. Didn’t know you still cared."

"You have three seconds to explain yourself , Spike. What are you doing here? Is something going on in Sunnydale?" He shakes him once, hard. "Is Buffy okay!?"

"Oi, mate! Put me down, eh? I’m not here to fight ya. Well, unless you want to, of course. I never get tired of disrespecting my elders..."

In a warning tone, "Spike."

"Oh, right. Listen, I want to talk to you. It’s....uh..well, it’s personal. Can we not do this in front of the bird?" Spike jabs a thumb towards Cordelia, who is just standing there behind the counter, files forgotten.

"Spike, is Buffy okay? We’re not moving ‘til you tell me the truth."

"Really the purpose of my visit. She’s fine, I hope . I haven’t seen her in four weeks. Been out and about..."

"Spike, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we’ll talk about it downstairs. Cordy, stay here, okay?"

"Uh yeah. You betcha." She watches the two vamps head for the freight elevator. Once they begin to descend to Angel’s living area, she returns to the files. "Never a dull moment, that’s for sure...oh my god!" She holds up a piece of paper. "We drag a Sherak demon out of their crawlspace and these people never paid! Oh, we’ll just see about that..." Cordelia moves to the computer, typing furiously...listening for sounds of furniture breaking downstairs. It’s really quiet. Maybe a little too quiet...

 

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