* * * * *

Title: Life Serial Revisited

Author: Tiana

Feedback: I LOVE feedback. Please, send any and all to: tianabelle@hotmail.com. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to Spike, Buffy or any other BTVS characters. Damn it.

Distribution: Just ask at tianabelle@hotmail.com.

Summary: Set Season 6, during the ep Life Serial. Picks up when Buffy leaves the Magic Box after her failed afternoon as a sales clerk. What really happens with Spike and Buffy before and after they start drinking together? Her take on what should have been a fun evening…

Rating: R (For now) for nudity and drinking and stuff.

* * * * * Chapter 1: Escape * * * * *

I slam my way out of the Magic Box, smiling in grim satisfaction as the door rattles on its hinges. Slayer strength comes in handy when you are storming out on a job as well as with the more common demon-killing tasks. Truth be told, I would have liked to rip the door off its hinges and smash it to bits in frustration, but then I would never hear the end of it from Anya and Giles. All sorts of lectures on responsibility and payment plans. I grin while imagining the shocked looks on their faces though, and it puts a slight bounce in my step. The grin fades quickly as I remember the special circle of retail hell I just escaped. Could a few more weird things happen to me today? I am not meant to sell things with a fake smile and wave. Oh no. I was chosen to kick demon ass, not try to sell demon…ass. Or other demon parts. Speaking of demons, I realize that I have automatically directed my huffy departure from the Magic Box directly toward his cemetery. And his crypt. And by him, I only mean one particular member of the undead. Spike.

Whoa, nelly. What’s that all about? My face scrunches up as I pull myself to a stop just across the street from the cemetery. Rather than head home, I was really heading for Spike’s dusty musty crypt. Well, that doesn’t make sense. I cock my head and look up at the late afternoon sun. Why would I head there now - he’s not even awake yet. I better wait a bit before I storm in on the annoying undead. I spin on my heel and head towards home, that bounce returning to my step at the thought.

An hour later, I walk down the street, periodically almost breaking into a run. I changed into jeans for comfort and to distance herself from my afternoon – or several afternoons as it seemed to me – at the Magic Box. Squinting at the sun low in the sky, my thoughts turn to him. He could be up by now… The thought of waiting any longer does not even occur. I had already spent the last hour pacing through the house, thankful that Dawn was participating in a sleepover at Janice’s. Better to avoid the inevitable “Are you okay?” and “How are you feeling?”, which were fast becoming my least favorite questions in the world. No, I am not okay. I died, I went to heaven and now I’m back, doing laundry and paying bills and generally feeling like curling up in a ball to cry for a good long while. Not that I can tell anyone that. Well, except Spike. Why Spike is something I do not consider. That way leads to confusion. The most comfortable reason is that he doesn’t really count. Just a vampire, not a friend. And yet, I’m heading his way after my terrible day, counting on him to cheer me up. Spike. To cheer me up. I shake my head with a rueful laugh. My return to life has truly been a weird weird trip.

I find myself suddenly in front of Spike’s crypt. I raise my fist to knock, but catch myself. Please. Like I knock. I do decide not to kick the creaky metal door open for some reason. Growing respect for his home? Nah. It’s just that…well, these shoes are new. And that door is very dirty. Instead, I gently push on the door, opening it just enough to let myself slip in. Closing the door behind my, I find myself in near darkness, though really it is just that it takes my eyes a few seconds to start adjusting. The crypt is lit with a soft orange glow from the dropping sun. As I start to be able to see a bit more, I look around the upstairs of the crypt. Empty chair, television off. Hmm. No Spike. I take a few steps toward the ladder and the heels of my snazzy new shoes click clack, the sound bouncing off the cold concrete walls. I freeze, amazed at how loud the sound seems. I lean down, slipping them off and putting them aside by the door. As my hands release them, I hesitate. What the hell am I doing? All the times I’ve barged in, loud as you please, run through my mind. And Spike’s reaction to those times also plays. Right pissed. And for my own reasons, I would really like him to be in a good mood when he sees me tonight. I want…well, I just want that. Won’t be in much of a mood to make me feel better if I piss him off just coming in.

A small sigh escaping me, I slip across the room on bare feet without a sound. I reach the ladder and look down, listening for…what? He doesn’t breathe, Buffy. Wondering once again at how just how out of sorts I am from my day, I put one foot on the top step of the ladder, and then the next. With quick, quiet movements, I find myself on the floor of his new bedroom space. While I have not admitted it to Spike, I really like the space he has created down here. It’s…cozy. Oh god, if he heard me say that...I’d never hear the end of it. Truth be told, it fits him and somehow, it fits me, too. Not that I plan on telling that truth anytime soon. I pull myself out of my thoughts, somewhere I have been spending an awful lot of time lately, to find Spike. It doesn’t take long. My sharp intake of breath is fully audible in the dim space.

Spike.

Sleeping.

Naked.

Now, that I was not expecting. I put my hand to my mouth, trying too late to stifle the gasp I let slip. The thoughts that fly through my mind bring a pink flush to my cheeks, I’m sure of it. Most of them are thoughts I don’t usually allow myself to have around the blond vamp, but they come blazing into my conscious mind at the sight of this much skin. I’m completely frozen. If he wakes up now, I will be mortified. But if I try to get back up the ladder, I can just imagine him waking up and again, mortification. While my brain peels from one thought to another at breakneck speed, my eyes get themselves busy cataloging the scene laid out in front of me.

First off, I can’t be sure he’s completely naked. But it sure as hell seems likely. Sprawled out in a deathlike (very deathlike, in fact) slumber, Spike is uncovered from head to low, low on his hips. The sheet just catches on his suddenly tempting left hipbone, preventing full disclosure to my wide eyes. But there is much too much skin showing for me to think he is wearing anything below that sheet. Spike has never struck me as the kind who bothers with undergarments and now I have confirmation. My eyes travel up from the line of the sheet, focusing on the incredible washboard abs I suspected were hidden under that black t-shirt all these years. Hard, ripped and mesmerizing. All those times I punched, kicked or tossed him across a dark cemetery, I felt these muscles, but seeing his taut pale skin stretched across them gives me a strange flutter lower down my own body than I am altogether comfortable with. His chest, his arms are equally impressive. Smooth and making my fingers twitch , wondering what it would be like to just feel that skin. Run over it with light fingertips. Without him knowing, of course.

Not that I would. Of course.

I finally close my gaping mouth, trying to rein in my suddenly very alert body. It’s just Spike. Evil, snarky Spike who is nothing more than a pain in my ass. Only that’s not all he is anymore. That’s just the convenient definition I’ve been clinging to with both hands ever since I found out the rest. The way he looked after Dawnie for months with no end in sight, with me buried six feet under, the way he kept the promise he made to me in the only form he could after the battle. And now, the way he listens quietly when I come and spill forth with random chatter, using the words to mask the pain that is eating away at me. He never presses for more, he just listens, nods. Every once in awhile, when he thinks I won’t notice, in moments of distraction, he gently pats my back or my arm, brushes his hand over my hair. So that I know he understands, that I am not alone. And I do notice, no matter how distracted. My skin tingles for an hour afterwards where he touched me.

When I get around to the real topic, when I mention the peace I felt in heaven, his eyes go incredibly soft and blue like…well, I haven’t figured out what that blue is, but it makes my feel like sliding into his arms and holding on for dear life. Only I don’t. Because he’s Spike. Spike, who never asks “Are you okay?” because he knows full well I am not. No, he just waves me inside when I appear, okay, crash through his door with no explanation. Sits quietly while I talk. And even more so, he sits with me while I don’t talk. When I escape into his home and just perch silently, he lets me. Doesn’t bother me, doesn’t demand conversation or anything else. He lets my fight for that sense of peace that I never find during the daylight hours. While I cannot admit it, I find it near him in the nighttime. I don’t know quite why, but he brings me peace. He brings my swirling thoughts to a gentle calm.

I find myself looking on his relaxed form with new eyes. Not borderline lust, but something else. Tenderness? Part of me wishes I could sleep like that. Dead to the world. In his case, literally. Another part of me, a part that is really freaking me out, wants to crawl in the bed and try it. See if I can sleep with him there, see if his effect on me could work this way, satisfy my craving for a good night’s sleep. One not filled with nightmares of digging out of the ground or aching reminders of what I’ve lost. Another tiny quiet part of me I am studiously ignoring wants to get in the bed for reasons not at all wholesome and pure.

I cock my head, studying his face in sleep. Angelic really, which is highly ironic. And not like Angel, but like angels. His cheekbones are still pronounced and sharp, giving him a predatory look. But his mouth, soft and full, makes me want to reach my fingers out again and just see if it is really as soft as it looks. I run my eyes over the features I know very well, but never really study. It strikes me in one sharp thunderclap that he is absolutely fucking gorgeous. For years, his smart mouth, his evil nature and oh, his attempts at killing me, made it hard to look at him that way. But now. Now he is my…friend? The word sounds weird bouncing around in my head. Is he? I shake my head, almost imperceptibly. Decide that later. Look now, while I still can. Even that shocking white blond hair looks delicious. All rumpled and curly, a look he usually erases before I see him. Slicked back and straightened, it suits his attitude more. But this look is positively adorable.

I freeze. Did I just refer to Spike as adorable? I have to get out of here. The day has obviously fried my brain. I look around, wondering how I am going to get out of this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I lie very very still. Pretty easy for a guy who doesn’t breathe. I’ve known she was there since she entered the crypt. Between the fact that it is almost time for me to wake up and the delicious jasmine lotion she wears, she had no chance of sneaking up on me. For whatever reason, I decided to see what she would do, figuring she would just yell at me to get my ‘undead ass’ upstairs. Only she didn’t. She didn’t even slam the door open like usual. Made me really bloody curious. Heard her take off her shoes and pad barefoot across the upper floor. Trying to sneak up on me? But why? Then her scent washed over me as she descended the ladder. If she had looked right then, she would have seen my entire body tense up for just a moment. I know she is standing no more than ten feet away and…what? Not moving an inch. All I can figure is that she is watching me. Waiting for me to wake up, maybe? But why not just yell for me to wake up like she usually would? I can wait the Slayer out. I stay still as full minutes pass. Right when I decide it may be easier to start pretending to wake up, she moves. I can hear it, both her feet moving and her heart racing at a furious pace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I take one step back toward the ladder, thinking I could maybe be quiet enough to get up a few steps and then yell to wake Spike up. Then, he would think I just arrived and not know I had been ogling him for the last few minutes. I put one hand to my cheek and realize how hot it is. I nearly moan as I realize I must be blushing bright red. Maybe he won’t notice in the dim light down here. I glance over my shoulder as I put one step on the ladder and notice he still hasn’t moved. Talk about sleeping like the dead! I could have staked him three times by now! I really could have. In fact, anyone could have. Maybe something is wrong with him. That thought had not occurred to me until just now. Of course, he’s a vampire, so the list of ailments is pretty short. Still, I should check.

I congratulate myself for the logical explanation I have deduced for moving closer to the Spike’s sleeping form. It’s not that I want to see him up close and maybe touch him. I’m merely concerned for his well-being. At the side of the bed, I frown. Still nothing, not a twitch. But, if possible, he is more perfect to look at up close than he was from across the room. Expanses of skin begging for hands. Speaking of hands, one is thrown across his stomach, the other lying open on the bed. Eyes darting from his face to that hand, Buffy starts to inch her hand towards it. It’s research. Yeah, vampire research. I want to see if…if he gets colder while he’s sleeping. That would be good to know. Um, for some very good reason I will come up with later… I notice that my fingers are trembling just a little as they get closer to his. It’ s not like I’ve never touched him before. Just not when there was quite so much skin available for the touching. And not when I wasn’t trying to kick his undead butt. Steeling myself, glancing one more time at his face, I let my fingers graze the skin on the inside of his hand. His hand twitches and I nearly jump out of my skin. Oh god, oh god, I am going to get so caught. Like the kid who has just broken into the cookie jar, I can’t help but go back for seconds. I drag one finger across and up his index finger. Smooth and cool, like I expected. Not being able to stop touching him, not something I expected. And then...suddenly, my hand is caught in a tight grip. His. Eyes threatening to bug out of my head, I look up to meet a sparkling blue gaze, wide awake and clearly amused.

I am so busted.

* * * * * Chapter 2: Sips or Shots? * * * * *

“Evenin’, pet.” His face is alight with a purely aggravating expression, that smirk just…just sitting there smirking at me! He knows he caught me doing something completely outside the Buffy rules. Dammit.

“Uhh, umm. Hi. I thought you were… I came in and you weren’t…and then with the not moving…and uhm.” I stop, take a breath. “Sorry I woke you up.” I bite my tongue to keep from saying ‘before I got to touch the rest of you.’ Shut up, shut up, Buffy! The flush that had been fading rushes up my face like wildfire as I pray Spike won’t notice.

He notices. And all of a sudden, we both notice that he is still holding my hand. Both our sets of eyes lock onto our clasped hands, mine trapped in Spike’s. I feel a tingle run clear up my arm at the solid grip he has on me. He meets my look and seems to close off those soft blue eyes… ACK. No, annoying blue eyes. But good grief, have they always been quite that blue?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Slayer smells like heaven and feels even better. Her little hand caught in mine, skin warm and smooth. I can feel her pulse against my fingers, thrumming double-time. She is nearly fluttering all over, trying to escape the truth of what she was doing, trying to figure out how to get that hand away from me. But I caught her and I’m not letting her off so quickly. I know full well she was standing there looking at me half, alright, fully naked and then dancing those fingers across my palm. Nearly bloody strained something not yanking her into the bed on top of me and showing her how good it felt. She could have staked me for laying my hands on her Chosen self, but damn, it might have been worth it to feel her warm body all against mine. Her eyes are wide, fear and something else flashing in those hazels. So damn beautiful. For some reason I can’t figure, gettin’ soft or something, I find myself taking pity on her and slowly releasing her hand. Must be something I see in those eyes. Also, little worried the bint will figure out I am as much affected by touching her as she is by touching me. She knows full well I still love her, or at least she should, but I’m not going to blurt it out just so she’ll hold my hand a bit longer. I’m still fighting full bleedin’ poofdom. As always lately, I strain for nonchalance, trying not to spook her into not visiting me. Would be more fun to tease her further, but I’ll hold off. Maybe later. “Thought you were a baddie, here to give me some trouble.” She doesn’t know that I was awake this whole time and I’m going to keep it that way for now. If she knows that I know, she will drop that old familiar wall down between us, the one I hated before she was gone. And I don’t even want to admit how much I don’t want that. Not even to myself and definitely not to her. Having her come to me nearly every night is too much to risk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No, no. No trouble, no giving. Just…whoa! Sheet!” I spin around, and my cheeks heat up like they are on fire. He started sitting up - and that sheet slid lower - and damn. I almost got a helluva view. Stupid to act so modest so quickly, curse my quick reflexes. I mentally slap myself for that thought. ‘Cause the top half looked lickable and I…argh. Time to derail that train of thought before it takes me somewhere very forbidden.

“S’alright, luv. I’m still decent. Well, you know…covered. Hold on, let me get dressed.”

“O-okay. Should I go up…?” I close my eyes tight, trying to swallow my embarrassment as well as the surging interest in turning back around and seeing just how ‘decent’ he is. I bite my tongue before I can say ‘ah-ha! I knew you were naked!’ That sure wouldn’t help with the whole keeping it a secret that I was checking you out.

“Nah. ‘m not shy, Slayer. If you’re feeling a bit nervous ‘bout being down in a dark crypt with a naked vampire, well… well, I guess you wouldn’t have come down here in the first place, now would you?” Damn that Spike. He can’t keep the pleasure out of his voice, that teasing tone. At least he doesn’t know I was staring at him slack jawed before I made the stupid decision to touch him. No, he just thinks…well, what does he think? He should really be giving me a much harder time than this for pawing at him while he was sleeping. I deserve even more teasing, and I let him do it for now without punching him into something hard, like a tree.

“Ha Ha, Spike. Just get dressed.” I cast my eyes upwards, thanking whoever is listening that he can’t see my face at the moment. Glancing around, I curse the fact that he doesn’t have any mirrors. Duh, Buffy. Even if he did, I wouldn’t get to see anything except my own reflection. Besides, I’m only curious. Spike turns out to have a hell of a body and I’m just a curious girl. Yep, cur-i-ous. I jump at least a foot in the air when a hand comes to rest on my shoulder. A soft cool hand that seems to linger lightly on my shoulder until I can almost feel it through the fabric. Shut UP, Buffy.

“Hello, anyone home? I said, I’m dressed, luv.” Spike’s voice is thick and sweet, and the implication is plain that this being dressed thing doesn’t have to be permanent. Since I know he doesn’t wear underwear, I also know that I am separated from the scene I just witnessed by one layer of clothing. My ears burn as I try very hard to get mad at him, but he didn’t actually say anything wrong and I just end up feeling hot all over. And not in a mad way. I swallow hard, regaining a sense of control as I turn and see Spike in his normal outfit: black t-shirt and black jeans. Only I can’t help but look a little harder at that shirt, catching hints of what I saw laid bare mere moments ago. And at those tight jeans and the view I was not given. Not to mention trying very hard not to think of how it made me feel, how it makes me feel even now.

“Oh. Uh, good. About time.” His eyes positively dance in that face of his, playful and sexy. And not sexy! I did not say sexy. And oh, he’s looking at me now like I’ve lost my mind ‘cause I’m just standing here staring at him. “I thought you were going to sleep the night away or something.” Oh jeez. Why don’t I just admit that I was here longer than he knew? That I was giving him the once-over? Okay, the twice, uh, the threetimes-over.

“How’s that, Slayer? Been here long?” Spike’s arms slowly cross over his chest as he looks down at me, eyebrow raised in infuriating fashion. Could he ever just miss what I say? Instead of coming up with an appropriately snappy and full denial-like comment, I end up fascinated by the definition of his arm muscles, biceps bulging through that black t-shirt. Why didn’t I ever really notice this before? Now what was I doing… oh, right. A reply…a good one to convince him I wasn’t here for very long.

“Nuh-uh. I just got here.” Oh yeah, that should do it. He’ll never see through that web of cleverness. I fight the need to roll my eyes and smack myself on the forehead. I brace myself for the renewed teasing. And then he does something surprising.

He changes the subject.

“So, what does bring you to my humble abode this evening, Slayer?” Spike’s voice softens slightly. He’s being nice to me again. Sneaky bastard.

“Just…um…visiting. But if you’re busy, I can go…” I make a half-hearted move towards the ladder, hoping and praying he will…

“Not busy. Thirsty, though. Wanna drink?” He moves toward the half-full carafe on his dresser, already assuming my answer. Which is always no. Until…

“Oh hell yes.” I have to bite my lip to not laugh out loud at the expression on his face as he turns back to me. His eyebrows shoot so high on his forehead, I catch myself wondering if you can strain an eyebrow muscle. Or is it really a muscle? Oh, damn. I don’t care. The point is, he’s really surprised. He always asks, I always say no. It’s one of our things. Only I could really go for a drink after the day I’ve had. People always say that can help when you’ve got troubles, and you can just color me troubled.

He hesitates in mid-stride, but recovers quickly from his shock. “Don’t have anything fancy with little umbrellas, Buffy. Just bourbon.”

“Okay.” I see another flicker of surprise cross his face as he takes the carafe from the dresser.

He gives me a quick once-over. Probably trying to figure out what I am thinking, why the sudden change. I’d swear he looks concerned, too. Which shouldn’t surprise me so much. I have to admit that Spike has become different around me and yet, in so many ways, still the same. Still snarky and annoying. It’s part of why I come to him. He doesn’t wear kid gloves, but he does show concern. In his own Spike way.

“Sips or shots?” I hesitate, figuring out what he means. Considering how little I ever drink, I know I won’t be able to stand the taste of the bourbon. Shots it is, then. Fast and dirty. I should really not say dirty with the state of my mind at the moment. Only, wait, I don’t know how to drink a shot. Beer didn’t go well for me and I never moved up.

“Shots.” My voice injects a question into the word and I see Spike pause before reaching into his top drawer and withdrawing two shot glasses.

“Sure about that, Slayer? Ever had a shot?” Am I wearing a sign on my forehead that simply transmits my thoughts to him? He always knows what I’m thinking, what I’m worried about.

“Oh yeah. Lotsa shots. Tons.. uh, no.” There’s really no point in trying to lie. He’ll figure it out if I try to take one and then spray the bourbon all over his face. Though that would be a funny sight. I turn my head a little to the side and look up at him. Dear god, am I flirting?? “Wanna teach me?” Holy crap. I am flirting.

I see Spike swallow, adam’s apple bobbing. I think the flirting is having an immediate effect and I am torn between being thrilled and screaming ‘what the holy hell are you up to, Miss Buffy!?’ I go with the first one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Does the Slayer know what she is doing? Does she have any bleedin’ idea what she does to me with a bat of those eyelashes? I am so whipped by her and she doesn’t even know it. And now, with the drinking? She doesn’t drink. I suppose some people would discourage her from starting, but I’m not her conscience, I’m a vampire and I like the sound of it. She’s come so close in the last few weeks to speaking the truth for more than a few seconds at a time. And the ability of liquor to loosen the tongue cannot be denied. I should try not to think about tongues…‘cause there’s hers. Bloody fucking hell. She is going to be the end of me one of these days.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike is squirming as I lick my bottom lip, his eyes locked on it. I should not be enjoying this. I should not even be doing this. I should not…

“So, how do we start?” But I am.

* * * * * Chapter 3: Smirk * * * * *



Spike’s smirk is stuck on his face, I’ve decided. He can’t get over the new and improved Buffy tonight. I’m tired of being down in the dumps all the time. Yeah, my day sucked beyond the telling, what else is new? Time for some fun and it turns out Spike is my first choice to join in the having of that fun. Go figure.

Spike hasn’t answered me yet. He is just standing there with the bottle and glasses.

“Hello? Spike?” I walk over to him and wave my hands in front of his eyes. Suddenly he snaps out of it, refocusing those dangerously blue eyes right on mine. Gulp.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a damn good thing vampires don’t blush. Or at least, I don’t. Never thought ‘bout whether we could. Point is, it’s also a damn good thing the Slayer’s powers do not extend to mind reading or I’d be meeting my dusty end at the point of a stake right about now. Standing there with the bourbon in hand, I thought of the Slayer all drunk and friendly and it just…well, another good thing is the lack of light down here so she can’t see my…reaction to that thought. What? Oh. She’s looking at me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Right here, Slayer. Bit lost in thought. So, you’ve really never done this before?”

I roll my eyes at him, his tone clearly adding those double meanings he is so fond of. “Right, Spike. Never.” I put one hand on my hip and look around, noting the lack of chairs to sit on. “So, where should we do it?” The minute the words fall from my lips, I feel the blush come back with a vengeance. Buffy’s mouth is not connected to her brain tonight. I stammer because Spike’s grin just got much, much wider. “The drinking. Where should we do the drinking thing?” I try to act like I don’t know what he is thinking, but since I am so obviously thinking the same thing, I fail miserably.

“Well, Buffy.” How does he say my name like that? I almost shiver from the sound of it. “We can do it just about anywhere you want to. Soft-like, on the bed there.” He gestures at his admittedly big and cushy bed with the bottle. “Or maybe hard-like, on one of the tombs up there.” This time he swings the bottle towards the upstairs. “You have a preference, luv?” His eyes dance in amusement, but there is something else there that makes my stomach flip flop.

Still, I could just stake him. Teasing me. Making me feel positively goose-bumpy with his sinister intentions and deep voice and…did I mention his lips? Yum. OH. No. I did not say that. We better get away from his bed area with all the bizarre ideas that are traipsing through my clearly overworked and overtired self. I’ll go with upstairs. I nod that direction before speaking.

“Hard. Definitely hard.” And that is the way I choose to say it? What the? I bite back a groan at my choice of words. Well, his choice of words, but I repeated them. I really do think the connection between thought and word is permanently short-circuited. The only other reason for me talking like this to him is really quite unmentionable.

“Prefer it hard, do you? I figured. Well, let’s go, then.” He turns and heads towards the ladder before I can protest and make the situation potentially worse. Again, sneaky bastard. I can just about see him smirking from behind. Behind. Lookit that. Mental note: Rear view equals good.

I decide to avoid speaking altogether for the moment, mentally trying to reign in my so out of control hormones. Yes, it’s true. Spike is a hottie. Particularly just out of bed with that tasty bedhead and stormy blue eyes. Stormy. Is that what the blue reminds me of? Kind of the blue right after a thunderstorm. Yeah, that’s it. When the sky is unsettled, the air still and electrified. Which is just the way he makes me feel when he looks at me with those eyes…

“Buffy? Coming, luv?” Spike hesitates at the top of the ladder, poking his head back down to see me rooted to the spot, eyes glazing. I really honestly hope I did not start drooling, but I’m afraid to check.

I blink, forcing my body into motion, even putting on an attempt at a normal smile. “Yeah, right behind you.” Oh yeah, right directly behind you. The slap to my inner self is ineffective. Every word out of my mouth is full of my darkest intentions when it comes to him. Those intentions are not to be spoken, but I can’t stop implying them tonight.

And the part that freaks me out far more is that I don’t want to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am so pushing it right now. Don’t know why the Slayer hasn’t put me back in my place. She is – dare I say it – flirting with me. And I can’t help it. I’m giving it back in spades. First, she sneaks into my crypt and gives me the eye while I’m naked. Then, she wants to drink with me. And now, with the flirty talk? Only so much a love-starved vamp can take, especially when it is the very object of my affection doing all of the above. ‘m not going to push it, though. She’s as skittish as they come nowadays. Take it bloody slow, Spike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I gulp and head towards the ladder as Spike’s feet disappear. I step up the ladder carefully, startled to look up and meet Spike’s gaze. He is waiting at the top for me, hand out. What’s that for? Oh, he’s helping me. Sweet. I reach up my hand, eyes never leaving his, and slide it slowly into his. His skin is smooth, slightly cool to the touch, but not too much so. I rarely touch him on purpose if not to punch him. It’s…nice. As his hand tightens on mine, I feel the nerve endings of my arm awaken, firing in sequence from the point of contact up to my spine and down my back. Goosebumps pop up and I try to feebly blame them on the chill in the room, but I know it is the way he is touching me that causes them. Gentle but firm, he pulls me up to a standing position as I try not to stumble, since I stubbornly refuse to release his eyes.

“Is it hard?” Spike’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at my statement. Think, Buffy, think! “Taking shots. Is it hard?” I am so, may I say again, busted. Sooner or later, he’s going to call me on this flirtation and I’m going to have to admit that he is the only one. The only one I like to be around anymore. And being around him more and more is only making my feelings topsy turvier than ever. He’s good to me and I just hardly know what to do with that.

“Mm. Not too hard, Slayer.” I can tell he’s holding back. There are so obviously some words he would like to be saying to me, but he is most certainly holding back. I kind of wish he wouldn’t, but that’s just the kind of thinking I am trying to avoid. A gentle pressure reminds me that we are still standing in front of each other, holding hands. Oh god. Just then, he releases my hand, letting his thumb graze the back of it as he does. I shiver involuntarily. “Cold?”

I should lie, say yes, I am cold. Frosty cold. Brr. “No, I’m okay.” Smooth, real smooth. He is studying me, absorbing my reaction to him, which he so obviously caught. Could he be a little less perceptive? “Where to?” I look around and he gestures to a nearby sarcophagus. Desperate to put at least a bit more space between us before I do something colossally stupid, I dart over to it. I hop on, swinging one leg over to straddle the cool stone. I thank my lucky stars that I was smart enough to switch to jeans tonight. This perch would be quite difficult, not to mention revealing, in the skirt I had on. Settled, I look up to see Spike in the same spot, head cocked, just looking at me. He leans over to pick up the shot glasses and glass carafe partly full of bourbon. Guess he set them down when he got up the ladder. My eyes instantly drop to his rear end, snapping away when he stands up and almost catches me. I pretend to study the walls of the crypt as he swaggers over to me. And oh, does he ever. When he arrives next to the crypt, I carefully place the most innocent expression I can on my face. I was not looking at his butt. No sirree. I glance up when he doesn’t sit down and the innocent expression I worked so hard on is instantly corrupted by that damn smirk of his. When did the little curve of his mouth become such an issue for me? I find myself matching it with one of my own as he settles down across from me, also straddling. Best not to think about straddling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vixen. Thinks she got away with checking me out. Wish I knew what the hell was going on in that cute little head of hers. She’s driving me bloody crazy tonight. She must have had one hell of a day to arrive in my crypt this vulnerable. So un-Buffy-like. Let the walls come crumbling down. With a bit of help from some whiskey, ‘course.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He sets down one shot glass in front of me and one in front of him. He pulls the stopper out of the carafe, puts it aside. For some reason, I am god-awful nervous. I’ve been coming to see him for weeks. I’m not sure why tonight feels different. Kinda feels like a date. A very unofficial, ill-advised, secret-like date. Yeah. I watch intently as he fills my glass and then his. Carefully putting the carafe down, he waits until I lift my eyes to his.

“Ready, Slayer?” Oh, damn. Am I?

“Yep. Soooo, how do I…?” Just then, Spike picks up the glass with just his thumb and forefinger and then proceeds to down the shot in a blur of motion. Before I know what happened exactly, the empty glass is back on the stone top.

“Your turn.” He smiles at me, mischief running rampant across his features. “Don’t sip it, luv. You have to down it in One. Quick. Swallow.” Oh, he is such a dead man. Well, a more dead man. Does he ever say anything that doesn’t have at least two meanings, one of them sexual? When I just sit there, half-scowling at him, he reaches out and lightly touches my hand, making me jump. “Scared?”

“Oh, right. I’m scared. I kick demon ass every night of the week without breaking a nail, but I’m scared of a little liquor. I mean, really, Spike.” I pick up the glass, sniff it and am startled at how strong it smells. “Nervous would be a much better word for it.”

He grins at me, lets out a low chuckle. “Worst thing that could happen is that you spit it all over me. Or swallow it too slow and burn your throat. Neither one very fatal, luv. Ready to give it a go?” I nod. I hold the glass to my mouth, eyes locked on his. “Open up your throat to help it slide down quick. Try not to taste it. Drinking shots really has nothing to do with tasting, pet.”

Screwing up my courage, I squinch my eyes shut, open my mouth and throw the liquid into my mouth. It burns on contact. I try to swallow fast, but it stays in my mouth long enough to make my eyes water and to set me off into a coughing fit.

Wiping my eyes, I glance back at Spike, who is desperately trying not to laugh at me as the coughs diminish. “Not bad, Buffy. At least you didn’t spit it back out. Burned a bit, though?”

I nod, still coughing a bit. “Guess I need to be quicker about it.” I feel a small pocket of warmth in my chest as the whiskey slides down. Mmm.

“Yeah, throw it further back, straight to the throat instead of your mouth.”

“Got it. Well, don’t wait all night. I’m not gettin’ any younger. And well, you’re not gettin’ any older, for what that’s worth. Pour.” I wave at the two glasses with my fingers. And wouldn’t you know it, there’s that smirk I’m starting to…well, not dislike quite so much anymore…

* * * * * Chapter 4: The Good Stuff * * * * *



“Fast learner.” His voice is caught between impressed and…concerned? I think. Things are not as crispy clear as they were when I got here. Back when he was naked. I feel my face slide into a pout. He’s not naked now. I shake my head, knocking that highly inappropriate thought loose. Only it is holding on kinda tight, not wanting to get shook loose.

“You all right, Slayer?” There it is again, concerned. Only more so. Wonder why? Ohhhh. ‘Cause I’m only talking inside my head instead of answering him. That might be the problem-o.

“’m fine, Shpike.”

“Then why did you call me Shpike?” Alrighty, now the amusement is back...and yep, there it is. The smirk. Ha freakin’ ha, Buffy can’t talk right no more.

“I don’t know, SPIKE. See? I can say it just fine.” I notice right then that the carafe we started is now empty. “Hey. Empty.” I frown at first the bottle, then at him. He smiles at me before swinging a leg off the sarcophagus and walking...where? “Where ya goin’?”

I hear him in the shadows, can just make him out bending over beside his chair. He returns into the candlelight we are drinking by and holds up his prize. A shiny silver flask full of somethin’. Booze, I guess. Booze. Funny word. Oh, he’s talking.

“Found the rest of my stash, luv. And this…” He swishes the flask around. “…is the good stuff.” He grins as he takes his place back on the sarcophagus. He quickly fills my glass and then his. He takes his shot and smiles slowly, with a look of pleasure I find very…interesting. I take up mine and look at it, matching his grin.

“This is gonna be great.” I throw it down and react immediately, shaking and fighting the taste. That was good? He is one weird vampire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is getting to be entirely too much fun. Slayer has really taken a liking…well, not so much a liking as found her calling with shots. She can take ‘em like a pro, but still hates the taste. Bloody well cute when she reacts, especially this new reaction to my good whiskey. Should have known she wouldn’t appreciate it, the way it slides down smooth and rich, warming from the inside out. ‘course, I’m more in need of the warming than she is. What’s this? Slayer feeling sorry for herself? Life is stupid? Well, yeah…she’s got a point there…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t believe how easy it is to talk to Spike. None of my friends can stand to hear how much life sucks. But Spike, he agrees. He tells me it’s okay to be sad, to be angry, to just feel, for god’s sake. Even says the right thing, the tough thing. And he’s cute when he does it, too. As a bonus. Ooh, more whiskey…

* * * Ooh. No more whiskey. Laaasst shot.

“You’re a creature of the darkness. Like me.” I study him. He almost makes sense and I don’t know if it’s the liquor or the truth. “Try on my world. See how good it feels.” Like to see how good you feel. Wha?! Focus, Buffy.

I glance down at my last shot and back up at him, vision blurring slightly. “Are there drinks in your world?”

Smirk smirk smirk. “Slayer, luv, indeed there are.” I throw back the last shot. Despite the nasty taste, I’m actually starting to get used to the strange burning sensation. It’s nice to just feel something strong like that. To know I’m alive.

I slam down the glass, nearly shattering it. Oops. Slayer strength. “Well, let’s have at it then. Kick some demon booty and have fun doin’ it!” I swing my arm in a very can-do maneuver, nearly knocking myself clean off the tomb. Spike’s arm darts out to steady me, grasping my upper arm. I freeze, wobbling slightly, and look from his hand, up his arm, to his face. He lets go quickly before I can get a really good look into his eyes. Blue. So so blue. I look down at my arm where his hand was and it’s still tingling. Back at him, but he’s turned his eyes away from me, trying to hide something…or was there nothing to hide? A short and awkward silence extends itself. I try to swing my leg over to get off the sarcophagus, but for some reason, it is not responding. I bite my lip and look at my uncooperative right leg. Frowning, I tell those muscles to move again. Nothing. Spike is just watching me. I’m not looking at him. He’s probably close to bursting into laughter.

“Little help here?” I frown up at him. “My leg is not responding to commands, it appears.”

I can tell Spike is exerting way more self control than usual to keep from laughing as he gets up and comes to my rescue. My leg is mostly asleep and I am mostly drunk, it aeems. With a touch more gentle than I expected or really even knew he had, he lifts my leg and rotates me so that my legs are hanging off the side. Which ends up making him stand right there, kind of halfway between my legs.

“Th-thanks, Spike.” I curse to myself at the waver in my voice. But god, his hands on my leg were so strong and firm and…um, boy. Back up those thoughts, Buffy. I glance up at him quickly. He’s still standing there, looking down at me in a most unsettling fashion. He nods in acknowledgement. It’s the booze, most definitely. Only he does not appear to be drunk in the least. Damn vampire. What, you need more of an actual bloodstream to get alcohol into it?? But on my side, it’s so the booze talking…and thinking. And kinda wanting. I bite into my lip, willing my inner voice to shut the heck up. When did I get so damn inner chatty? Time to go, let’s go, Buffy.

I break the quiet again, this time by hopping to my feet. Only Spike was awfully close to me when I did so, which just means I kinda rubbed against him when I stood up. My eyes widen at what I am quite sure I just felt. I mean, I don’t have the vastest – oops, not a word – knowledge of these things, but he felt a bit on the hard side. I swallow. And not small. No sirree. More what you would call…big.

I move away quickly, hopefully convincing him that I felt nothing. Could have been my imagination, what with the alcohol and inner turmoil. Yeah, it’s my inner turmoil and return from the deadness that’s making me act all wiggy. It will pass. I cut my eyes back to Spike, who has made a show of locating his duster off in the shadows. I hear that swish of leather and then he reappears in the familiar coat, eyebrows quirked up in question.

“Ready to go, Slayer?” Oh, so are we business-y again? I try to look serious, match his demeanor. I fail miserably and start to giggle as I mock salute.

“Ay ay, cap’n.” He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he likes it. He always likes it when Buffy comes out to play.

“You’re right pissed, luv.” He grins, jamming his hands in his pockets. Hey, is he moving? Oh no, it’s just the world rotating extra fast around me. Whoa.

“Nuh-uh. I’m not mad!” Again, eye roll. What did I do now?

“Not that kind of pissed, pet. I mean you’re drunk.”

My indignance flares up even further. Even though he’s right. “Nuh-uh!” I put my hands on my hips. Well, I try to. Hips are slippery and my hands slide right off. I try again, this time clutching quite hard.

“Whatever you say, Slayer. You up for this?” He cocks his head. Cuuute when he does that. No no. Not cute. Infuriating.

“’course I am. Not drunk. Jusht a little tipsy.” And lispy. Lispy, tipsy. Funny words…

“Right, right. Well, let’s take the motorcycle, it’s a bit of a hike to this place.”

I try not to squeal in excitement. Spike’s never taken me on the motorcycle before. And damn, I’ve really wanted to go for a ride. I just could never get myself to ask. I feign nonchalance.

“’kay.” I think the hopping and clapping blows my cover, though. Spike just chuckles, hands me my jacket and gestures to the door with a flourish and half bow.

“Your chariot awaits…”

“Wha? I thought we were taking the motorcycle!” The whine enters my voice without permission. Me wanna ride the…oh, a joke. Maybe I am drunk. “I mean, yeah okay.” Nice. That fooled him. Ha.

And for the thousandth time tonight, the smirk returns as we head for the door. I concentrate real hard on walking straight but whatever was in that flask has turned my knees to jelly. Suddenly, I feel a hand under my elbow, holding me steady. I let myself enjoy it for a moment before pulling away. Letting Spike touch me is still on the no-no list. Could give him…hell, could give me ideas. Change of subject is a good idea. “Where’s it parked?”

He looks a little wounded that I wouldn’t let him help me, but I just…well, old habits are hard to break. I smile at him and that seems to help. “Follow me, luv. Not too far.”

“Oh, I’ll follow…” Holy moley, I started to say that out loud. The downright lusty tone is not lost on him, dammit. I switch to innocent at whiplash speed. “you to the motorcycle.” His eyebrows furrow at my ridiculously obvious statement…and my obvious denial that I wanted to check out his rear view on the way to the bike.

I’m starting to wonder if this was such a hot idea after all… oh wait, he’s getting away!

“Coming!”

Spike slows down to wait for me. In fact, he stops completely and I crash right into him.

“Oops. Sorry, Spike.” I’m a little flustered and don’t move away from his leather-clad self quite fast enough. He’s just all…firm. I know this, why is this a revelation? He’s all sleek and muscle-y. Duh. I’ve been fighting with him for four years. So why does touching him now make me feel all shivery? Booze. Oh yeah, it’s the booze! That’s a relief.

I step back, hoping to death that the blush I feel did not make it to my cheeks. We drop back into step together and after a few minutes of a slightly more comfortable silence, Spike speaks without looking at me.

“You okay, luv?” He cuts his eyes at me quickly and then resumes looking ahead. I know we’ve gotten closer since I came back, but it’s still hard to remember, hard to really understand that he loves me, that he still loves me. And it comes out in these ways, in these small quiet moments.

“I’m trying to be.” We meet eyes and I give him a little smile. It would be nice if his smile wasn’t swimming in front of me. As mentioned, booze.

“Ah, here we are.” We arrive in front of the beat up motorcycle he apparently acquired the night I came back. Still haven’t heard that whole story, but I know he was sitting with Dawn. Looking after my little sis. I feel all warm inside and this time, I’m not so sure it’s the booze after all…