In Jealousy's Wake

Home : Stories by Author : Stories by Saber ShadowKitten : In Jealousy's Wake

Summary: Buffy asks Spike to pretend to be her boyfriend to hurt Angel, but things change.

AUTHOR: Saber ShadowKitten
EMAIL: daschus@attbi.com
RATING: NC-17, Warning - Contains mutilation
PAIRINGS: Buffy/Spike
SETTING: Season 4/Angel impied
DISCLAIMER: Joss and Carrie, not I.
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Part One

"You want me to what?" Spike stared at Buffy incredulously. She couldn't have just ask what he thought she'd asked.

"I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend," Buffy repeated, looking past him and around the cemetery. She was doing her rounds and happenstance to run across her reluctant helpmate, which was what she had been hoping to do. If her plan was going to work, she needed a boyfriend and fast.

The Slayer had asked what Spike thought she asked. "Why the bloody hell do you think I'd want to do something like that?" he questioned.

"You know what, forget it," she said. "I'll ask Xander. Or Riley."

She started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it, Slayer."

"Well, excuse me for not knowing that," she said, ripping her arm from his grasp. "The utter disgust on your face at the thought of being my boyfriend must have been your way of looking pleased."

"I only asked you why," Spike scowled. "And why didn't you ask the other blokes first? After all, pet, we aren't the best of friends."

"You lie better," Buffy said. "And you won't be intimidated."

Spike arched a brow. "Does this post come with hazard pay?"

"Look, will you do it or not?" Buffy snapped. "Because I have vampires to go kill, present company included if you don't answer."

He put his hands up in mock defense. "Testy, Slayer. Someone sure has her knickers in a twist over something." The stake came out of her sleeve. "Hold your bloody horses, pet. If you're rarin' for a fight, I'd be happy to give it a go."

"Yes or no, Spike," she growled.

"Before I decide, I want to know what's in it for me?" Spike said, dropping his arms.

Buffy smiled bitterly. "Revenge."

"Against who?" He knew the answer before the question was even out of his mouth. "I'll do it."

"Meet me outside of Willy's in an hour and I'll tell you what I want you to do," she said.

"Will do, pet," he said.

She nodded, the stake disappearing back up her sleeve, and walked away. Spike stared after her a moment, then went off in the opposite direction.

*****

Two weeks earlier

"What?" Buffy gasped, staring at Willow in shock.

"Angel and Cordelia," Willow said carefully. "They were all over each other at the club. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it."

"But...but...Angel," she stammered.

"They didn't know Oz and I were there," Willow said. "It was just chance that we ended up at the same club they were at."

"...and...and...Cordelia?" Buffy continued, trying to grasp the concept.

"Um, yeah," Willow said softly, laying her hand on Buffy's knee. "I'm sorry."

Buffy shook her head and a hard look entered her eyes. "How 'all over each other' were they?"

"Do you really want to-" Willow gulped when Buffy glared at her. "They looked like they were licking each others toes by going through their mouths."

"And their hands," Buffy said, her eyes narrowing.

"Under the clothing and on...parts," the redhead answered.

Buffy pursed her lips together and her jaw ticked from clenching it so hard. She nodded once, rose, and headed out of the dorm room. That night, the vampires turned tail and ran at the waves of fury radiating off of her.

*****

Present

Spike lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to curl into his dead lungs. He was sitting on the edge of the wall that separated the outdoor tables at the coffee shop from the sidewalk, awaiting the Slayer as promised. Raising his head, he looked out onto the dark streets, searching for her and for threats.

He'd been back in Sunnydale 'officially' for almost a year, watching the Slayer's back and helping out when he could by getting information through non-human sources. He had been blackmailed by Whistler into making his presence known and joining the fight for good, instead of staying in the shadows like he had been since the freak snow of 1998. What the demon had on Spike was something that the blond vampire never wanted anyone to know, living or unliving.

He heard the Slayer's sharp steps on the pavement before she came into view. He could tell that she was angry by the way her heels hit the ground with hard raps and, having grilled Willy about his sire during the interlude, he knew why. When she finally came into view, he felt the familiar tightening inside of him, like he'd been sucker-punched by Superman. To him, the Slayer was like a black widow spider -- beautiful and deadly.

Over the past year and a half, he'd watched as her skills became more and more precise, culminating to the point where he'd be hard-pressed to beat her one-on-one. He secretly praised her Watcher, even though he was no longer officially in that position, for his training of her. It took a real man to not stop his duties even though he'd been fired and replaced, then had his Slayer quit the Council altogether.

"Hello, Slayer," Spike greeted casually, cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Let's walk," Buffy said, barely pausing her steps as she waited for him to join her.

Spike hopped off the wall and fell into step with her. He saw the tension in her shoulders and in the clenching of her jaw. Normally, he egg her on to see how far he could go before the stake came out. Tonight, however, he did not. "I know what happened with the ponce, so you don't need to tell me."

"Good," Buffy said.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, flicking his cigarette away.

"I told you, I want you to act like you're my boyfriend," she said, irritation in her voice.

"I know that," he growled, then clamped down on his temper. "I meant how?"

Buffy looked over at him with a frown. "What do you mean, how? You do boyfriendly stuff."

"Slayer, I've never been anyone's bleedin' boyfriend, pretend or otherwise," he said, shoving his hands in his duster pockets.

"What about Drusilla?" she questioned.

Spike chuckled hollowly. "Dru and I were anything but that."

"Great," Buffy sighed. "I haven't had a real boyfriend since I was fifteen, not including Scott."

"Scott?" Spike said, wondering who he was. He only thought that Angel had been her...whatever they had been.

"Just a guy I dated for, like, three weeks. Of course, Angel came back during the second week and I was taking care of him, then Scott dumped me...never mind," she said, her pace quickening as her unresolved hurt over that incident layered onto her anger with Angel.

"Let me make sure I understand," he said. "You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend, but you don't know how you want me to act and I sure as bloody hell don't know how to act." He paused and gave her a half-smile. "We're buggered."

Buffy snorted, then fell into silence. They continued walking until they reached the docks. The Slayer walked to the edge of the pier and looked out over the water.

Spike watched her out of the corner of his eye. Anger wasn't the only emotion he could see in her face. Hurt and sadness, plus a little bit of jealousy, all rolled across her features as she stared out over the black ocean. Despite their no longer being together, he knew that she still loved him. Love was not like a faucet that could be turned on and off at will, as he very well knew.

He knew she was not exclusively angry that Angel had moved on, she was also angry because he had moved on to one of her friends. It rubbed salt into the wound in her heart caused by their breakup. It didn't help that the only person she thought he couldn't be with was her, but he could be with anyone else he chose.

"When is he coming?" Spike finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Friday," Buffy answered. "There's a new baddie suppose to be arising with the new moon and Giles felt that we'd need his help."

"And you were going to tell me this when?" he scowled.

"Tonight, whether you agreed to help me or not," she replied calmly. "I just found out this morning myself."

"Then we have three days to figure out how to act like a couple," he said, a frown netting his brows. "Are we suppose to be a new couple or and old couple?"

Buffy shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. Just as long as he gets the message that I am so over him he could explode in a cloud of dust and I wouldn't bat an eye."

"Ouch," he commented. A smile of evil glee crossed his face. His sire was going to hurt.

"Yeah," Buffy said, her eyes glittering with the idea as she met his eyes. "Ouch."

Part Two

Buffy rang the bell at the address Spike had given her. "What is it with vampires and warehouses," she muttered, pocketing the scrap of paper he'd scribbled on the previous night. Despite his help for close to a year, she'd never been to where he lived. She'd never even knew where it was until now.

She remembered the first night she'd found out he'd be helping her. It had been pouring outside and he had entered the small bookstore Giles owned, soaked and swearing. She had immediately leapt up and pinned him against the register counter, reaching for a pencil to use as a stake. He had called white flag and, because he had done so once before and helped her save the world, she released him. He then had pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Giles.

She smiled when she remembered the shock on Giles' face, and the unhappiness on Spike's, when the letter from Whistler was read. Spike had given Giles a phone number, then disappeared, only to mysteriously show up whenever she needed help. He was worse than Angel when it came to appearing out of nowhere.

Thinking of Angel caused a scowl to form on her face, and that was what Spike opened his door to. "Slayer, you're looking quite peckish this evening."

"Up yours, Spike," Buffy said, pushing past him.

"Please, do come in," he said sarcastically, closing the door behind her.

Buffy blew out a breath of air and apologized. "Sorry. That was rude of me."

"If you weren't rude, I'd be worried you were sick," he commented, gesturing to a stairwell beside the door. "Up we go."

Buffy let Spike lead up the four flights of stairs to the top level of the three-storey, boarded up warehouse. The Slayer couldn't hide her shock when she stepped through the fire door into his home. "Wow," she said, her eyes huge as she stood by the stairwell door.

She had expected dark, gothic colors, not the bright, cheery atmosphere she found herself in. The ceiling, venting, and brickwork were all exposed, and three black, old-fashioned ceiling fans hung suspended straight down the large room. The floor was hardwood and in a light walnut color throughout the level, with a few throw rugs scattered around.

The stairwell was located in the southeast corner of the room, bricked off, with a black fire door. Directly across from it was where the kitchen was located. A chest-high, beige counter partitioned the kitchen off, with one of the black, metal support beams serving as the corner-point for the area. A modern stove, refrigerator and sink filled the area along the east wall, with the same colored cabinets on the walls above as the hardwood flooring.

Just outside of the kitchen was a table and four chairs and beyond the next support beam, heading west on the north side of the floor, was an open area with a stack of mats against a beige wall. The entire south side of the floor was utilized as a living room. A light brown couch, love-seat and recliner formed a sitting area, with a low, walnut colored coffee table in the center on a large, western-colored throw rug. An end table was between the couch and the love-seat with a simple lamp on it. On the other side of the couch was a freestanding halogen lamp, with the recliner beside that. On the floor next to the recliner was an old fashioned magazine holder.

Along another built, beige wall was an entertainment center and bookshelves. Both were filled to capacity with books, CDS, movies, cassettes and albums. She saw ashtrays scattered around, along with open magazines, piles of newspapers, and yellow legal pads with Spike's chicken-scratchings on them. There were also bare shelves running at various levels along the walls, with a cut up box every so often, which made Buffy wonder what the shelves were used for.

She finally whistled in awe, and took a hesitant step forward. "Go ahead," he said, when she looked at him in askance.

Buffy took off her jacket and handed it to him, then ventured towards the small hallway created by the beige walls at the west end of the floor. There were two doors, both open, to her left and right. The one on the right led into a simple bathroom, done in white and green. The door on the left led to the bedroom.

A queen-sized bed was in the center of the wall across from the door, with a plain, light blue comforter on it, and night stands on either side. Along the brick outer wall was a wardrobe cabinet and, against the additional wall, was a chest of drawers. All the furnishings were the in the same colored wood as the hardwood floors.

And the most unusual thing was the white, short-haired cat with bright blue eyes sitting in the center of the bed. It stared at her, unblinkingly, until Buffy got the feeling that the feline was sizing her up. After a moment, the cat stood, stretched, then hopped off the bed and padded silently out of the bedroom.

Buffy followed and was in time to see the animal leap up to one of the shelves on the wall and move along it until the feline reached the kitchen. "Spike, I didn't know you owned a cat," she commented, as the cat jumped onto the refrigerator and began eating food from a dish she hadn't noticed.

"I don't own a cat," Spike told her as he handed her a Diet Coke. "He owns me."

She couldn't help but smile and shook her head at the total unbelievability of his home. "I really like your place," she said, popping the tab on the soda. "It's so...non-vampire like."

"Well, I'm going to be here for a very long time," he said. "I might as well have things how I like it." He gestured towards the living room area. "Have a seat."

Buffy sat down on the couch and sighed at its comfortableness. Spike sat down on the love-seat and parked his feet on the coffee table. He set a dark-brown mug down on the end table, then picked up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter off of it. "Alright, Slayer. Let's decide how we're going to do this."

She leaned forward and set her soda on the coffee table, then curled her legs up under her. "How riled up do you want to risk getting Angel? We both know that you are not his favorite person, alive or undead."

"I say bring the wanker on," Spike replied. He lit up a cigarette, then set the lighter back down on the open pack. He picked up the mug and took a drink.

"Then we'll be lovers."

Spike inhaled sharply, causing him to choke. He quickly set the mug down and covered his face with his hands, the cigarette between his fingers. He coughed so hard his eyes watered.

"Are you ok?" Buffy asked, when he finally calmed down.

"Would you mind repeating that?" he said, his voice hoarse as he stared at her.

"I said we should be lovers," she repeated.

"That's what I thought you said," Spike told her. He leaned back and inhaled deeply on the cigarette, looking up at the ceiling. The cat jumped up on the back of the couch and butted his head against Spike's ear. He reached up and scratched the cat behind the ears, his thoughts revolving around one word: **Fuck.**

"God, Spike, is the thought that we're lovers so revolting that you can't talk?" Buffy snapped, rising quickly to her feet. "Thanks so much for the compliment."

"Sit down," Spike growled, lowering his head to pin her with his eyes. "Now."

"Forget it," she said, heading for the door. "I knew I shouldn't have bothered to ask you for help."

He had her pinned against the door in an instant. "How the bloody hell did you expect me to react, Slayer? Should I have jumped for joy? Kissed your feet for allowing me to pretend to worship your body?"

"A simple 'no' or 'ok, pet' would have been just fine," she said, glaring furiously at him. "I know you hate me..."

"I don't hate you," Spike snarled. "You just bloody took me by surprise! Cor, I expected hand holding and flowers and maybe a friggin' kiss or two to show the prick up. Do you know how impossible it would be to pretend we're lovers?"

"Thanks a lot, Spike," Buffy hissed in a low, hurt voice. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

"That's not what I meant!" Spike yelled. He released her and stormed away from her. "I'm a vampire-"

"I know that," she spat.

He spun and glared at her, his blue eyes like chips of ice. "Do you? Do you really?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Duh. You drink blood, you're immortal, you have no soul."

"Exactly," he said. "I have no soul. I'm not like Angel."

"Of course I know you're not like him," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "But what does this have to do with your pretending to be my lover?"

Spike closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists, trying to calm down. He ground his blunt teeth together, his cheekbones becoming more pronounced with the action. Once he was certain he wasn't going to let his demon's face come to the foreground, he opened his eyes and said in a low, deceptively calm tone, "I am a vampire. There is no way for us to pretend to be lovers. Angel would never believe it."

"Why not?" Buffy asked, confusion coloring her anger with him.

"Slayer, vampires mark their human lovers with their bite," Spike told her.

"But Angel-"

"Had a bloody soul!" he snapped. "And he probably had to bite the friggin' pillow so as not to bite you!"

Buffy continued to glare at him, but she cast her mind back to the only night she'd ever had sex. The night was only flashes of memory now, sensory images that were burned into her mind. She remembered Angel's growl of pleasure as he came and tried to focus in on the sound. Using whatever extra-sensory perception she had because she was a Slayer, she was able to discern that Spike was more than likely correct.

"Ok, you're probably right," she said. "And, as much as I don't want your fangs to get near me, if I hold a stake to your heart, you can probably-"

"No."

The simple word held more finality in it than Angel's leaving her after the Ascension did close to a year ago. Spike had turned away from Buffy, not allowing her to see his face. "You're serious, aren't you?" she said. "I thought you'd pretty much kill to be able to drink my blood, I know the kind of additional boost it gives you, and here I am offering you a free taste."

"Slayer," Spike said slowly, staring at a spot on the floor hard enough to burn a hole in it. "I can pretend to be your boyfriend, I can pretend to love you more than blood, and I can make sure Angel knows that you're over him; but I cannot pretend to be your lover."

Buffy felt tears welling up in her eyes as all of her insecurities came rushing forward now that the anger had dissipated. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from letting them fall down her face, but they did not heed her wishes and freely made tracks down her cheeks. "Am I...am I that horrible?" she asked, having a sickening need to know whether or not she was as undesirable as Angel had told her so long ago.

Spike turned at the trembling in her voice and saw her looking at him with haunted, scared and insecure eyes, tears falling down her face. He felt like he'd been slammed by a locomotive at the realization that he was the one to make her cry. Walking back to her, he set his hands on her shoulders and looked her right in the eye.

"Slayer, you are beyond desirable," he told her. "You're enticing and tantalizing and enthralling and electrifying. Your body titillates no matter what you wear. You're dangerous and deadly, which only serves to fuel the temptation your delectable body makes. That's why Angel had to leave you to begin with. How long do you think he could resist? He may be a guilt-plagued poof, but he is still a man."

"But then why won't you bite me?" Buffy asked, a flush of pleasure staining her skin under her tears from his words. "That would ensure that Angel would hurt."

"I can't," Spike said, his voice quiet, but firm.

A light dawned in Buffy's red eyes. "Whistler," she said. "You can't bite me because of him."

He released her and turned away, chuckling bitterly. "You could say that."

Silence permeated his home. The cat walked over and wove himself around Spike's legs, and he bent and picked the feline up. Petting the cat, he walked over to the end table and picked the cigarette up that he had dropped into the ashtray when the Slayer went to leave. He took a long drag on it, staring sightlessly at the beige wall separating his bedroom from the living room.

He knew he'd admitted too much for his own piece of mind. He'd all but told her how attracted he was to her. Luckily, she had put two and two together and came up with five. Whistler did hold the truth over him like the Sword of Damocles and expected certain things from him in return for keeping quiet. However, not biting the Slayer had never come up.

"Listen, pet," he said, extinguishing his cigarette. "How about if we just haven't gotten to that point yet?"

"Do you think he'd believe that?" Buffy said, watching him and wondering what sort of hold Whistler had over Spike. She was going to have to have Willow do some digging. Perhaps he was using magick or was holding Drusilla captive.

"He would if I were madly in love with you," Spike answered, setting the cat on the floor. "I could probably convince him that I want to wait because of what happened between him and you."

"Really layer on the guilt?" she said, a smile forming.

"Like cream cheese," he replied, an echoing smile crossing his lips.

Buffy giggled. "You are so weird."

"Thank you," Spike said, bowing slightly. He gestured to the couch. "Why don't you come back here and we'll watch a picture and I'll hold your hand."

"Why would you want to do that?" Buffy asked, frowning at him, but moving back towards the sitting area.

"We have to start somewhere if we're going to be comfortable enough with each other to fool my trotting sire," he replied. He grinned mischievously at her. "You didn't think that I really want to hold your hand."

She rolled her eyes and took a seat, picking up her soda on the way. "Make sure there's a clear path to the bathroom," she said, taking a sip.

Spike turned from his perusal of his video selection and looked at her. "Why's that, Slayer?"

"Because holding your hand may make me hurl."

Part Three

"It's been a total of six hours in two nights," Spike said, sliding his duster on. "A bloody record."

"Well, you haven't done anything to really annoy me yet," Buffy told him, pretty proud of their non-fighting record herself. She followed him out the door of his place. "But tonight is just starting."

Spike chuckled and locked the main door, then pocketed his keys. Reaching down, he took the Slayer's hand and they headed towards the Bronze. Both of them were more aware of each other and comfortable with one another after only one night of being together. The stake she had hidden up her sleeve had not come out once.

They had held hands the previous night for an entire movie, then moved to the kitchen table to bicker over the film while having a late night treat. Buffy had proclaimed her love for him when he took out a carton of Double Chocolate Fudge Ripple Ice Cream and said she'd move right in. His laugh had been rich and full, filling the top floor of the warehouse and making her really smile for the first time in two weeks.

Tonight was their second step in building up a convincing show for Angel. Wednesday night at the Bronze was no cover, and they had planned to dance and act as couple-like as they knew how. Willow, and therefore Oz, were the only two who knew of the plan between Buffy and Spike. Spike had joked that they should take notes from the other couple's behavior and Buffy agreed -- as long as the note-taking wasn't with his doctor-like handwriting.

Entering the semi-crowded club, Spike spotted the redhead and her boyfriend and he wove his way to them, still holding Buffy's hand. He nodded a silent greeting to the wolf, who returned the same, as they sat down.

"So, how's it going?" Willow asked.

"Spike's not a walking dust pile," Buffy replied, taking off her jacket.

"I've read that's healthy step in a relationship," Oz said. "Not killing the other person."

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Willow said, looking between Buffy and Spike. "I mean, I know Angel did a bad thing. Really bad. But you guys broke up."

"And I'm over him," Buffy stated. "I just want him to know it." She grinned maliciously. "Plus a little retaliation never hurt."

"That's where you're wrong, Slayer," Spike said under his non-existent breath, too low for anyone to hear. He knew from first hand experience that retaliation could hurt more than the sun hurts a vampire. However, that did not stop him from wanting to get back emotionally at his sire for taking Drusilla away from him, and taking Angel's first true love, even if it was for pretend, was the perfect way.

Buffy turned to him as a slow song cued up. "Want to dance?"

"Sure, pet," he answered, sliding his coat off of his shoulders to leave at the table. She smiled at him and took his hand, pulling him after her towards the dance floor. Once there, she dropped his hand and slid her arms around his neck, as he slid his hands around her lower back.

Swaying to the slow beat, the two slowly drew closer and closer to each other. By the end of the song, Buffy had laid her head on his chest and Spike had his cheek pressed against the top of her head. A second slow song started, and the two did not change positions, any and all tension and nervousness disappearing with the music.

When a faster beat cued up, the two separated and exchanged content smiles. "That wasn't too bad," Buffy said, as they headed back towards the table.

"No, it wasn't," Spike agreed, having enjoyed holding the Slayer in his arms almost too much. If he wasn't careful, he would begin to believe that their 'relationship' was real, and that would lead to things that couldn't happen.

The remainder of the night alternated between dancing and conversation with the other couple. At one point, Spike put his hand on Buffy's knee, and she felt a warm, tingling sensation under her skin where he touched. It was hard to concentrate on what they were talking about after that point, because she became super-aware of the man beside her.

She had never thought of Spike as anything other than an annoying vampire who showed up when she was in over her head, killed the bad guys, then disappeared after a few mocking comments. Admittedly, she was curious as to how he always knew when she needed help, and she'd had many hilarious conversations with Willow about what sort of superhero the blond vampire could be, complete with tights and other paraphernalia.

She knew Giles called him to get information through the vampire grapevine and other non-human sources, but she never really wanted to get to know her blackmailed helper. Now that she was starting to get to know him as a person, she was finding herself liking him a lot more than she should like a vampire, even if he was a 'good' one.

It was with that state of mind that they walked backed to his place to get her car. They held hands again, and Buffy noticed the way his cooler hand fit perfectly with hers. She liked the way his long fingers curled over the back of her hand, the way he absently brushed his thumb back and forth across her skin.

"I have a question for you," Buffy said, breaking into the comfortable silence.

"I have an answer for you," Spike replied, giving her a half-grin.

"Funny," she said with a roll of her eyes.

He chuckled. "What's your question, luv?"

"Ok, I know that you're supposed to help me and I'm not supposed to kill you," she started. "And I'm surprised I never flat out asked you before, it being my sacred duty and all..."

"Are you planning to ask me any time soon, pet?" Spike interrupted, giving her hand a playful tug.

"Sorry," Buffy said, giving him a sheepish look. "I wanted to know how you eat. I know Angel will bring up the whole 'he's a bloodsucking killer' thing, and if that's still true..."

"It's not," he answered immediately. However, his voice dropped until it was almost a whisper, and it took almost a pain-filled note. "You can tell the tosser I bag it."

"Really?" she said, surprised. "Wow. Whatever Whistler has on you must be pretty juicy stuff to get you to change your soulless ways."

The bark of laughter that came from him was so bitter, Buffy cringed. He dropped her hand and she immediately felt bereft, and she chastised herself for bringing up an obviously painful subject. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I didn't mean to pry."

Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit up. After allowing the first rush of nicotine to hit him, he blew out the smoke and said, "Don't worry about it, Slayer. That's something a girl would know about her boyfriend."

"I doubt 'Does he suck the blood out of the living?' is a question in one of those 'How Well Do You Know Your Boyfriend?' quizzes," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I took one of those once," Spike said, allowing her to change the subject. "I think it was 'How Good of a Lover Are You?'"

"Let me guess, you're a vampire Lothario," Buffy said.

He gave her a devilish grin. "Actually, I failed it miserably."

"Now, why don't I believe you?" she asked. He chuckled and the tension was released.

*****

"Drusilla's dead."

"What?" Buffy stared at Willow in surprise.

"Dead, as in poof, no more," Willow said. "So Whistler isn't using her to blackmail Spike."

"Wait, how do you know this?"

"Willy," the redhead replied. "With the right amount of persuasion, he's a wealth of information. And wealthier himself." She grinned at her own joke.

"Who killed her?" Buffy asked.

Willow shrugged. "He didn't know. All he remembered was that Spike had come to the Alibi Bar the Christmas that it snowed, drunk as a skunk, and when Willy asked him if there was trouble in Loveland, Spike told him Drusilla was dead, then he left."

"That means that Spike was here less than a month after he kidnaped you and Xander," she said. She had a horrible thought. "Maybe he tortured her too much and killed her."

"But that information couldn't be used as blackmail," Willow said logically.

"I hope that's not what happened," Buffy said quietly. "No one should ever have to go through that pain." She gave Willow a sad smile, pushing away her memories. Angel was alive and alright, even if he was kissing Cordelia. "Ok, I'm fine. What else did you find out?"

"Um, I don't think Whistler has any magick powers," Willow told her. "But he could be using witchcraft."

"It would have to be a really powerful spell to get Spike to stop feeding from people," she pointed out.

"Maybe he'll get his soul back if he sinks his fangs into someone?" Willow suggested.

"Maybe," Buffy said. "He was very not willing to bite me."

"You wanted him to bite you!" she exclaimed. "Buffy, are you nuts! Remember what happened the last time?"

"Angel got better and helped saved lives," Buffy said calmly. "Don't go there, Willow. I would make that same choice now. Anyway, Spike refused, so it doesn't matter."

"What did he say?" Willow asked. "'Thanks for the offer, but if I bite you, Whistler will spill the beans?'"

"Actually, he just said that he couldn't," Buffy replied, frowning slightly. "He didn't bring up Whistler at all, I did."

"Why don't you just ask Spike?" Willow said. "I mean, now that I'm really thinking about it, this is kinda wrong. So is blackmail, but if it's making Spike not eat people, it must be something pretty big and he probably doesn't want us to know what it is, which is why he is allowing himself to be blackmailed. This is Spike."

"And not much bothers him," Buffy said. "Maybe after Angel goes back to LA, I'll ask him. I made a boo-boo last night by asking him how he feeds and things got all tense. It was not of the fun."

"Good idea," Willow said. "So what are you two going to practice tonight?"

"Kissing."

Part Four

"Awkward much?" Buffy asked later that night at Spike's home. They were standing in front of one another, both of them wearing uncomfortable expressions on their faces. Their body language screamed tension, as if they were ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

"It's just a bloody kiss," Spike said, then clenched his teeth back together.

"Just a kiss," she agreed. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Right," he said quickly. "This is pretend."

"Pretend, fake, not real," she said equally as fast.

"Right."

"Right."

They stood there, neither of them moving. The cat suddenly jumped down from a shelf, landing between them. Buffy let out a muffled shriek and Spike yelled something unintelligible as they both jumped back in fright. The feline looked from one person to the other, then sauntered away.

Buffy raised her gaze to meet Spike's and they both burst out laughing. Tears streamed down their faces and the Slayer was bent double, gasping for air. Spike had to brace one arm on the wall so as not to collapse, and was wiping his eyes with the back of his other hand.

"Oh god," Buffy said, calming down.

"Remind me to have the cat for supper later," Spike said. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know," she said. "I think he deserves a treat for that."

Spike turned his head to track his cat's movements. He watched as the feline disappeared down the small hallway, more than likely to go sleep in the bedroom.

"Spike?"

He turned his head back to find Buffy standing right beside him. Before he could even comprehend her presence, she went up on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips. He blinked in shock, his arms falling to his sides and, as impossible as it was, his heart pounded a single beat in his chest. He stared owlishly at her for a moment, then whispered, "Do that again."

Buffy's lips curved up into a smile, and she raised herself back up on her toes and pressed her lips to his with no hesitation. His hands moved around her waist and pulled her closer to him, both their eyes falling shut simultaneously. She slid her hands up around his neck, just like when they danced the night before, only this time her actions were to hold him to her as the kiss slowly deepened.

Spike was lost in a sea of sensations, unable to discern one from another. Each one was more powerful than the next, shaking him to the core, preventing him from doing anything other than feel. And feel he did, causing his senses to overload.

He tasted like mint, with an underlying hint of tobacco and the metallic tang of blood. Her toes curled up when his tongue met hers for the first time, leaving her barely balanced on the balls of her feet. She inhaled a shaky breath as their tongues tangled like their words always had, and she found herself assaulted by the purely male scent of him and the faint odor of cigarettes. She'd always thought the scent of cigarettes was unpleasant until now.

Her body became completely aware of the proximity of his, tingling in some places, tightening in others. She felt her heart flutter in her chest before it began to pound in anticipation. She pressed herself closer to him, and shots of electricity coursed through her as her breasts pushed against the solid wall of his chest, her lower body pressed intimately against his.

Hot. Cold. Soft. Hard. Vanilla. Silky. Blood. Baby Powder. Heart pounding. Berry. Cinnamon. Shaky breaths. Power. Female. Arousal. Mint. Bubble-gum. Pliant. Curvaceous. Diamonds. Musky. Tantalizing. Tangy. Heaven. Hell. Wanting. Needing. Smooth. Strong. Sweet. Salty. Pulse racing. Slayer. Buffy. Slayer. Pain. Buffy. Pain. Slayer. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.

Spike abruptly pushed Buffy away from him with a loud growl and she had just enough time to see his yellow eyes blazing before losing her balance and falling to her butt on the floor. She watched, wide-eyed, as he leapt over the counter into the kitchen and practically tore the freezer door off its hinges. He snatched something from inside and the next thing she knew, the bathroom door slammed shut.

In the bathroom, Spike turned on the water faucet full blast to cold. He cupped his hands under the water and bent down to splash his ridged face. His jaw was clenched tight as he willed himself to calm down. Tears of pain mingled with the drops of water as he continuously splashed the cold water on himself.

After what seemed like forever, his face slowly shifted back into its human planes and he turned off the water. Leaning over the sink, with his hands splayed flat on the counter, he took deep, calming, purposeful breaths. The pain settled into a general ache and he reached for a towel to wipe his face off. He then took the still cold, gelatinous mouth-guard he'd retrieved from the freezer out of his mouth and set it on the sink.

There was a knock on the door and Buffy's voice drifted through it. "Spike? Are you ok?"

Spike took another deep, unnecessary breath and blew it out slowly before answering. "Yeah, Slayer. I'll be out in a minute. Why don't you choose a picture for us to watch, alright?"

"Um, ok," she replied.

He heard her walk away from the door and cursed softly. He never expected kissing the Slayer would cause the reaction it did and he had loved it. Until he'd gotten an infinitely painful reminder as to why he should have kept his distance. "Cor, what the bloody hell am I going to tell her?" he asked the reflectionless mirror.

Buffy watched from the couch as Spike came out of the bathroom and headed for the kitchen, a slight frown marring her brow. She had decided to wait for an explanation, rather than asking flat-out what had happened. She hoped it wasn't because he'd been disgusted by the kiss, because she had thoroughly enjoyed it. So much, in fact, that she wondered if he'd be as good of a lover as he was a kisser.

"Thanks," she said, accepting the bowl of chocolate ice cream from him when he returned to the sitting area. He nodded and sat down beside her, his own dish of ice cream in his hand. "So, I, uh, chose a movie."

"You don't have to beat around the bush, luv," Spike said, eating a spoonful of ice cream. The cold felt wonderful and he ran the ice cream along his gums with his tongue before swallowing.

"Good, because this patience thing is over-rated," Buffy replied. "What happened?"

"I bit my tongue," he lied. She stared at him incredulously, to which he answered with a wry look of his own. "I told you I failed that quiz."

"That's all?" she asked. "You bit your tongue?"

"Hey, it hurt," he said, which was the truth.

"I know it hurts, I've done it before," Buffy said. She took a bite of her own ice cream, not looking him as she added, "I'm just glad it wasn't because you were grossed out or something."

Spike gave her an astonished look. "Fuck, no," he told her. "That was the best kiss I've had in a bloody long time."

Buffy blushed at the compliment, happiness spreading through her. "Well, good. It...kinda was for me, too. Although I seem to have a habit of causing vampires to go game face when they first kiss me."

"And just how many vampires have you kissed, Slayer?" Spike asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she teased right back.

Spike chuckled, glad that he managed to gloss over what happened with a single lie. Next time he kissed her -- and he knew there would be a next time, considering Angel would be in town the next night - he'd make sure he stayed in control. "What video did you pick?" he asked, setting the ice cream on his knee in order to light up a cigarette from the pack on the end table.

"The Cutting Edge," Buffy replied, picking up the remote off of the coffee table. "I haven't seen it before...well, I haven't seen very many movies at all. That whole slaying thing gets in the way of quality vegging time."

"You're more than welcome to come over and watch my collection anytime you'd like, pet," Spike said, then ducked his head in embarrassment. The Slayer seemed to have a knack for making him do things completely out of character for him.

Buffy smiled with pleasure. "I may just take you up on that offer, Mister."

The cat came bounding out of the small hallway at the same time Buffy turned on the movie. He leapt up on the back of the love-seat and walked over to the arm. Once there, he sat down and stared at Spike's ice cream dish on the vampire's knee.

"Forget it," Spike said, exhaling smoke at the cat. The feline meowed at him and he scowled. "This is my ice cream. Get your own."

"Spike, I don't think he can reach the freezer door," Buffy said, giggling. "And it would be hard for him to wrap his paws around the ice cream scoop."

"But he sure as hell would give it go," he said.

"What's his name, anyway?" she asked. "You never did tell me."

"He doesn't have one," Spike told her. She arched her brow in question. "He's deaf, so it wouldn't do me any good to call him."

"But he still should have a name," she told him.

"Then name him," he said. "Nothing nancyish, like Waldo or Edwin or..."

"William?" Buffy supplied with a straight face. He glared at her and she giggled.

"Good thing the picture's staring, Slayer," he growled. "Or you'd be wearing that ice cream."

"I look better in strawberry," she told him with a devilish smile. Then she turned her attention to the movie.

Spike had no trouble picturing what she'd look like with a little ice cream smeared on her. He also had no trouble picturing himself licking the ice cream off of her. He turned his head away from the Slayer and saw the cat still staring at him. "What are you lookin' at?" he groused.

He could swear the cat gave him a knowing smile.

*****

"'...We don't even like each other. We fight all the time.'"

"'Foreplay.'"

Buffy and Spike looked away from the screen and at each other simultaneously. The Slayer started to blush, telling Spike she was thinking the exact same thing he was thinking. "And all this time, I thought it was because I hated you, luv," he said, a mischievous smile playing across his lips.

"This is a movie," Buffy said, gesturing to the television. "What do they know?"

"You're telling me, after all this time we spent fighting, you never once wondered..."

"No!" she interrupted, then blushed even brighter red.

Spike leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Liar."

"Yeah? Well...you? What about you, Mr. Swaggering, Thinks-He's-Hot-Stuff?" she said, going on the offensive because she was embarrassed of her reaction. "You probably think foreplay is only fighting and bloodshed."

"Is that an invitation to prove you wrong, Slayer?" Spike said in a low voice, his eyes piercing hers. Everything inside of him was screaming to move away from the subject, but he didn't care. As futile as it was, he wanted to know if she desired him as much as he desired her.

Arousal flared inside of her, and despite the fact that things were moving too fast between them, she couldn't help but answer, "Yes."

Spike froze. He hadn't expected the simple answer, or her breathy voice that told him she really wanted him. He thought she'd joke it off, even if she did desire him in return. A coil of fire started to burn in the middle of his chest, threatening to consume him. He couldn't even kiss her without losing control, how did he think he would be able to do anything else to bring her pleasure?

He told the voices in his head to shut up, leaned towards her and kissed her. He was prepared this time for the tactile sensations that came with the action. Their intensity did not dim and he felt himself being pulled in by her taste and her scent and her softness. A low rumble emanated from him as he fought to keep his demon at bay, but he still did not stop kissing her. He never wanted to stop.

The feel of his cool lips upon hers was enough to make Buffy tremble. Her hands had gone up around his shoulders when he initiated the kiss. They were awkwardly turned towards one another on the couch, but she didn't care. All she cared about was the feel of his tongue sweeping against hers, the firmness of his lips, the taste of chocolate ice cream and tobacco and him.

She heard a low growling coming from him and it sent tendrils of excitement through her system. She stroked the nape of his neck with one hand, her fingers going up to catch the back of his soft hair before sliding back down his skin. She wanted to be closer to him, wanted to press her body against his, to feel the muscles that lay under his clothing with her hands.

However, it was not to be. Spike slowly pulled away from her and she opened her eyes to meet his gaze questioningly. He reached up and brushed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, following the movement with his own eyes. "You are such a wonderful woman, Slayer," he said softly. "You deserve much more than I am able to give you."

His words confused Buffy and she went to ask what he meant, but he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before she could. Then he turned and settled her against him to watch the remainder of the movie, and she did not bring up the question again.

Part Five

Buffy let herself into Spike's home the following afternoon. He had told her to just come up when she arrived for their final planning before Angel got into town. Climbing the stairs, she felt butterflies in her stomach, not from the thought of seeing Angel, but from the thought of seeing Spike.

She was really starting to like the blond vampire -- in the hug me, kiss me, do other things not including clothing to me, kind of way. In the past three nights, she learned that he was witty, sensitive, loving, had great tastes in movies and ice cream, and was a general, all-around good guy. Someone she'd date in an instant. Someone she could easily fall in love with.

Opening the fire door, she quietly called out his name so as not to surprise him. "Spike, I'm here."

She froze when she saw him, her heart leaping to her throat. He was sitting cross-legged on one of many blue mats spread out on the floor in the area next to the kitchen table. His eyes were closed, his back was ram-rod straight, and he had a short bamboo staff sitting across his legs. However, she was mostly concentrating on his shirtless torso and the slow, steady rise and fall of his muscular chest.

"Want to play?" Spike asked, not opening his eyes.

Buffy jumped slightly, then chuckled at being startled so easily. Closing the door behind her, she removed and hung up her coat, then toed off her shoes. "I'd love to," she said, walking over to him.

Spike raised his head, opened his eyes and sent her a devastating smile as she stepped onto the mat in front of him. Her knees grew weak as he stood, and her eyes left his face to trace over the muscles of his chest and abdomen. Her fingers itched to run over each ridge of the six-pack, then to slide down the center line over his navel and follow the trail of dark hair beneath his pants. She swallowed heavily when she saw that the black running pants were riding low on his hips, testifying to the fact that there was nothing but skin underneath them.

He turned and walked over to the kitchen table, grinning to himself in male satisfaction at her perusal of him. There was a medium-sized, open trunk on the table, and he took out a second staff, then tossed it to her. She caught it deftly, testing its weight. "Are we doing the Friar Tuck thing?" she asked.

"Bruce Lee," Spike corrected, his bare feet padding silently across the floor as he rejoined her on the mats.

Buffy grinned and raised her staff in salute. "Ready, Spike-i-san?"

"Ready, grasshopper," he replied with a grin, and the fight was on.

Spike faked a step forward, and Buffy fell back in reflex, her staff raising to block, allowing him to get in a quick shot to her thigh. She scowled at him, bringing her arms down quickly to hit the top of his staff. She turned and sent a back kick at him, followed by a round-off. He blocked her staff as it came around to hit him in the face.

The hollow clicking of the staffs as they met rang throughout the upper floor of the warehouse. The mock-fight grew faster, with each of them ducking, blocking, kicking and punching. Spike dropped to the floor and swept his foot out, catching Buffy around the ankles and knocking her to the mats. He rose over her, aiming the blunt end of his staff to her chest and jabbing downward.

Buffy brought her staff up sharply, knocking his away. She twisted her hands, bringing her staff between his legs and she snapped it upwards. She froze, ready to apologize for the cheap shot. However, the grin he'd been wearing the entire time they'd been fighting still on his face. He took advantage of her distraction by whacking her across the wrists with his staff, causing her to drop hers, then he brought the end down rapidly and stopped at her throat.

"Give?" Spike asked, nudging her chin with the tip of his staff.

"Give," Buffy agreed, staring up at him in confusion. He nodded and moved his staff. Bending, he picked up the other one and put it in the same hand as his, then offered her a hand up. She accepted it and he pulled her to her feet, then turned and walked over to the kitchen table. "Um, Spike?"

"Yeah, luv?" he said, putting the staffs away. He shut the lid on the chest and turned to face her.

"Do you have brass balls or something?" she said, unable to think of a better way to ask.

"What?" Spike said, confused.

"Well, I kinda just hit you between the legs, and most guys I know would be on the floor..."

"Oh, that," he interrupted, turning and heading for the kitchen. "You didn't hit anything, Slayer. No harm, no foul."

"Oh," she sighed. "Good. I wouldn't want to do any permanent damage to you. Down there."

Spike chuckled, but the sound was not one of humor. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a bottled water, then returned to the mats and handed it to her. "You can use the shower first, pet. The towels are under the sink."

"Thanks," she replied. She studied him for a moment. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

"I'm positive," he answered, giving her a half-smile. "Now go get cleaned up. And save me some hot water."

"'K," Buffy said. She turned and headed for the bathroom.

The second the door closed, Spike sat down on the mats and let his face fall into a bitter mask. Crossing his legs, he let his hands rest lightly on his knees and closed his eyes. He began taking slow, purposeful, measured breaths, concentrating on clearing his mind. If he didn't, he would either become angry or fall into depression, as he was wont to do, and he didn't need either emotion to hamper him tonight. Not with Angel arriving in Sunnydale.

In the background, he heard the shower, the hum of the refrigerator and radiator, but none of them bothered him. He had started doing the steady-breathing exercises over a year and a half ago, once taking the easy way out was no longer an option. It helped him build up his control, which was essential unless he desired to live out his unlife in pain every time his emotions got the better of him.

Not much caused the human mask to slip from his features any more. Kissing the Slayer had done it, which was understandable because kissing her was like seeing the sunrise for the first time in two centuries, and every-so-often his control would ebb when an injury was too intense. He carried the mouth-guard with him each time he went out to shadow the Slayer, just in case, and on occasion he had to use it.

He wondered how the Slayer would react if she ever learned the painful truth. He'd had two close calls already. He knew he should have said no when she asked for his help. He should have stayed in her shadow where he belonged, protecting her as he'd been told to do. But because he hadn't, he'd had a taste of how wonderful the Slayer really was, and that became a new, private hell. He could easily fall in love with her if he let himself.

The shower stopped and he could hear her moving around the bathroom. He could picture her in there, her body glistening, drops of water running down her golden skin. He could see her petite body in his mind; muscular, yet curvaceous and soft, hiding the deadly power she had. Her breasts would fit perfectly in his hands, not too large, with dusky areolas and hard nipples that begged for him to suckle them. At the apex of her thighs, he'd bet he'd find a nest of dark curls, attesting to the fact that he thought her not to be a natural blond either.

He saw himself carrying her into his bedroom and laying her on his bed. He'd kiss her mouth first, stroking her tongue with his, then move down her jawline to her ear. He'd take the pierced lobe between his teeth and tug slightly, then kiss the soft spot behind it. He'd slowly move down the side of her neck, lavishing her pulse point with his tongue, then nip at her shoulder.

Continuing around, he'd swirl his tongue into the hollow of her throat before going up the other side of her neck to her earlobe. There, he'd repeat his actions and return to her mouth, capturing it again in a searing kiss. Her body would tremble under his touch as he ran his hand lightly down her flushed skin. Moving to her side, he'd break way from her mouth to begin traveling down her body.

He saw himself kissing and licking a path between the valley of her breasts, and her heart would beat faster under his mouth. He'd turned his attention to first one breast, then the other, nipping the soft skin of the undersides, circling around the soft mounds before finally taking her diamond-like nipples in his mouth. He'd roll the buds with his tongue, tugging on them with his teeth, causing her to arch into his mouth and hold his head to her. In his mind, he heard her make little whimpering sounds as she enjoyed his actions.

Moving down her body further, he'd dip his tongue into her navel, then continue straight down to her sex. He saw himself separating her legs and settling between them. He could smell her musky scent of arousal, which increased when he used his fingers to pull apart her silken folds, baring her to him. Her eyes would be shut, her mouth open and her breathing rapid. Her lower lip would be glistening after she licked it in desire and anticipation.

Lowering his head, he'd run his tongue along both folds, causing her to hiss in pleasure. He'd circle her extended clit, the color of it darker against the light pink of her labia. When she started to wiggle under him, searching for relief of the exquisite tension caused by his ministrations, he'd take her nubbin into his mouth and suck it gently.

He watched in his mind as she arched her hips. He could hear her small cry of pleasure as he began to flick his tongue against her clit, moving his jaw repeatedly as he brought her to orgasm. Her juices would flood her hot cavern as she came, hitting him with their heady scent. She would writhe under him, bucking her hips as she climaxed, her head thrown back in sweet agony. He'd dip his mouth lower and taste her, drinking her honey.

He'd kiss her inner thigh, then move next to her as she calmed. Gently, he'd run his fingers up and down the center of her body, the fine sheen of perspiration over her skin making her shine. She'd open her blue-grey eyes and meet his gaze, a small smile playing across her lips. She'd reach for him and pull his head down, their lips meeting once more. Her hands would run down his bare back, around his sides and back up, and she would try to get closer to him, her fingers dipping below the waistband of his pants.

The images in Spike's head continued to play out what would happen next, despite his trying to stop them. He saw her face go from ecstacy to disgust and pity, her eyes not meeting his as the fire that had burned so brightly in them for him went out. She quickly left his bed, an awkward silence descending in the room. He watched as she hurriedly dressed, mumbled a goodbye, then left him alone.

A pain started in the area of his heart, radiating outwards until he was engulfed by it. He didn't hear the bathroom door open, or notice that Buffy reentered the living room. He didn't see her concerned expression when she saw him, or her kneeling in front of him until she laid a hand over his and spoke his name. "Spike?"

Spike pulled out of his torturous thoughts with a quick snap. He opened his eyes and met her gaze. Clenching his jaw, he reigned in his control and stood, ignoring the confused look on her face. "I'll be out shortly," he said, then escaped into the bathroom and shut the door with a firm click.

Part Six

"Ok, I told Giles that we were seeing each other," Buffy said, sitting across from Spike at his kitchen table. "He stared at me, then removed his glasses and stuttered big words."

"And then?" Spike asked, drinking from the mug in front of him. He had made the Slayer some dinner after he had cleaned up and she was eating it with gusto.

"Then he mumbled something about my being a strange girl, wished us the best, and said that he'd stake you if you hurt me," she concluded. She speared another piece of broccoli from her stir fry and ate it. She then gestured with her fork. "Xander went into conniptions and threatened to disembowel you and use your intestines as party decorations."

"A boy after my own heart," he joked. "So, what time are we to meet the great fuzz-bucket?"

"Angel and Cordelia-," she sneered, "-will be here around eight. We're suppose to patrol, then head over to the bookstore."

"Right," Spike said. He traced the rim of his blood-filled mug with one finger. "How sickening do you want me to be? Oz and Willow cutesy-ness or should I slobber over you like you were a bitch in heat?"

"Nice graphics," Buffy said, rolling her eyes. "And somewhere in between the two is just fine. Although I just showered, so go light on the slobber."

"Will do, pet," he replied. He drained his mug, then stood and went into the kitchen. After filling it with water, he opened a drawer and pulled out a plastic case, then retrieved the mouth-guard from the freezer and stuck it inside. He put the case into the front pocket of his black jeans.

"What's that?" Buffy asked, gesturing towards his pocket.

"Late night snack," he lied, giving her a smirk.

She arched her brow as she stood. "Now, why do I think that you're lying?" she said, as she bypassed him to put her plate in the sink. Spike shrugged innocently. "Come on, tell me."

"It's nothing, Slayer," Spike told her, moving to get his duster of the coat rack on the wall next to the fire door. He hadn't know that she had approached until he felt her arms move around his waist, her hand going directly into his pocket. "Slayer!"

Buffy pulled the plastic case out and dashed away with a giggle before he could stop her. He felt his temper flare and snapped, "Slayer, it's none of your fucking business!"

She stared at him in shock. He hadn't raised his voice to her like that in three days, not since the first night. The look on his face was pure anger and she actually felt a sliver of fear run through her. Without a word, she held out the black plastic object and he snatched it from her, then shoved it back into his pocket.

"Let's go," he growled. He slammed open the fire door and headed down the stairs without waiting for her.

Grabbing her coat, Buffy took off after him and caught up with him on the street outside of the warehouse. "I'm sorry, Spike," she told him, putting her jacket on to protect her from the cold weather. "I didn't mean-"

"Forget it," he interrupted, stalking up the street with his shoulders hunched, his hands shoved into the pockets of his duster.

"But-"

"I SAID FORGET IT!" Spike yelled, as he grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. "JUST FUCKING FORGET IT!!"

Buffy's eyes were huge as she stared up into his angry face. Gone was any of the softness and friendliness she'd seen over the past few days. Unbidden, she felt tears well up and she grit her teeth together so as not to make a fool of herself by crying. "Let go of me," she ground out.

He released her so quickly that she stumbled back slightly. Swearing, he turned away from her, his emotions bubbling inside of him. Closing his eyes, he fought them down, his hands clenched into fists. When he was sure he had control, he apologized. "I'm sorry, Slayer. I shouldn't have snapped like that. I-"

Spike turned back around as he began to speak to find that the Slayer was gone.

*****

The sound of fighting greeted Spike's ears as he approached one of the mausoleums that led to the electrical tunnels beneath Sunnydale. Swearing, he took off at a run towards the sounds, dodging headstones in the Sunnydale Cemetery. Rounding a stand of trees, he saw the Slayer surrounded by five, tall, wraith-like figures.

Each figure was a dull grey in color and had sharp talons for fingers, which they were using to attack the petite blond. Their heads were long and narrow, with three black eyes clustered in the center. Four slits were located where the mouth usually was, and they had no ears nor hair on their bodies.

He saw one of them on the ground, its neck at a strange angle, but still moving. He could smell the scent of blood in the air and growled when he saw a long gash running along the Slayer's cheek. In an instant, he was at her side, grabbing and twisting the head of the nearest attacker.

They worked in sync with each other, falling into a patter of kicks and punches that drove the creatures back in order to maneuver close enough to a single one and snap its neck. Buffy hissed in pain when a talon scraped across her abdomen, slicing her skin. She grabbed her attacker by the wrist and threw him over her shoulder to the ground, quickly stamping on its neck. With a dive roll, she was in front of the next one, fighting to take it down.

Spike snarled loudly when he felt the creature's claws rake across the back of his hand. He spun and kicked it in the torso, sending it staggering back into one of the others. Seizing the opportunity, he darted forward and pounced on both, sending them to the ground. He had their necks snapped within seconds.

Looking up, he saw the Slayer dispatch the last wraith-like being, and it fell to the ground with the others, still twitching. He rose to his feet and walked over to her. When he reached out to raise her chin, she yanked her head away. "I didn't need your help."

"Slayer, stop it," Spike growled, grasping her chin firmly. He studied the gash and the side of her face and cursed. "We have to get you bandaged up."

"I'll do it myself after I tell Giles about these guys," she said.

"No, we're going to do it now," he stated. "You can call and tell him from my place."

"Spike, I have two words for you," Buffy said, her eyes narrowed in anger. "Fuck. Off."

Spike pursed his lips together and stared at her, his blue eyes blazing. Then, before she could stop him, he scooped her up in his arms and headed out of the cemetery.

"Put me down, you goddamn bloodsucker!" she yelled, trying to squirm out of his arms. She gasped in pain as the cut on her abdomen split further, and she pressed her hand to it.

"Forget it," he told her, tightening his hold.

"God, you are such a jerk," she grumbled.

"Well, you're no prize yourself, Slayer," he replied. "Now, shut up."

"Screw you."

"I'm warning you, pet," Spike growled. "I am not in the mood for your bloody childishness."

"Drop deader," she sneered.

Spike stopped walking suddenly, dropped her to her feet and grabbed the back of her hair. With a loud snarl, he smashed his lips to hers, plundering her mouth with his tongue. His anger, fear, hurt and other emotions poured into the kiss, fueling it to a bruising passion.

Buffy held her hand tightly against her stomach, but she didn't feel the pain of the cut, as she fought with him without words. They battled silently in the middle of the street, neither of them aware of their dark-haired observers, who watched for a few moments, then disappeared back into the shadows.

As his emotions began to overwhelm him, Spike felt his control slipping and he broke away from her as his human mask flickered. A half-growl, half-whimper escaped from him as he dug the plastic case out of his pocket. He fingers fumbled as he tried to open it and it fell to the ground.

Buffy crouched as he did, ignoring the pain on her stomach and took it from his jerky hands. She squeezed the sides and the lid popped up. Raising her gaze from the strange-looking mouth-guard inside, she saw Spike in game face, his lips curled back in pain. She froze, a look of stunned horror crossing her face.

His canines, once long and pointed, were now cracked and flat edged, about half their normal size.

She barely caught a glimpse of them before he shoved the mouth-guard into his mouth and clamped down on it. He shut his eyes tightly and there were tears coursing down his cheeks. Slowly, so as not to startle him, she reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. He immediately held on tight, rocking slightly back and forth on his toes.

Spike breathed in deeply and let the unneeded oxygen out slowly, focusing on the feel of the air rather than the pain. After a minute, his face slipped back into its human countenance as he regained control. He opened his eyes and saw the Slayer's worried gaze, her one hand pressed against her stomach, the other holding his. He took a final deep breath, then raised his free hand to removed the mouth-guard.

"Are you ok?" Buffy asked, worried more about his pain then her own.

"I could use some ice cream," he replied, smirking at his feeble attempt at a joke.

"Spike-"

"Not now, Slayer," he interrupted, releasing her hand to take the plastic case from her. Buffy nodded and they made the remainder of the trip back to the warehouse in silence.

*****

Buffy was stretched out on Spike's bed, her shirt tucked under her bra, as he doctored the cut across her stomach. Because of her accelerated healing rate, the bleeding had long since stopped and the wound would be nothing more than a thin line come morning. The same went for the cut on her cheek and the ones on his hand.

Spike was silent the entire time, sucking on an ice cube he'd retrieved from the freezer when they arrived at his place. He avoided looking her in the eye and his actions were jerky, but his touch was soft.

Finally, Buffy couldn't take the silence anymore. "Spike, talk to me," she said quietly, watching him through lowered lashes. He stiffened and turned away, busying himself with the first aid kit.

When he began to speak, his voice was low and harsh. Bitterness and anger tinged each word so much, she flinched. "If you remember, I went back to Brazil to torture Drusilla until she liked me again. I should have known that a week wasn't long enough. Not five minutes after I unchained her, she attacked me. They say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. They weren't wrong."

Spike shut the first aid kit with a snap, then took a cigarette from the pack on the night stand and lit it. He inhaled deeply before he continued. "It didn't matter to her that I didn't do anything. She said I reeked of you and the witch, the boy and her daddy. She was so bloody jealous that, coupled with her insanity, she wasn't seeing right and Miss Edith agreed with her," he chuckled hollowly. "Her punishment was to make sure that I could never take a lover again."

He walked over to the dresser and picked up an ashtray, then leaned against the chest of drawers. He took another drag on the cigarette, then tapped the cherry into the ash tray. "She used an animal's nail clipper," he said, his voice raw. "She knew exactly what she was doing, the fucking bitch. She cut my fangs down just far enough that each time I let my human mask slip, the nerves she cut would tear again as they tried to descend."

"That's why the cold mouth-guard and the ice," Buffy said with understanding. "The cold helps numb the pain."

Spike nodded, but still did not look at her. "I was there that night, you know. Up on that hill outside of the mansion. Father and childe, both waiting for the sun to rise," he chuckled again, then sobered. "Then you were there, trying to get the wanker to go inside. You said that giving up was the easy way out, that surviving was hard and everyday and some other bloody stuff. I wanted to go over to you and shake you and ask what the fuck you knew, then I remembered that you had been through a bloody hell of a lot more than I had and that you were still kicking."

He stabbed out his cigarette, then played with the butt in the ashtray. "I told myself that no bleedin' Slayer was going to best me, then laughed when I realized it was too late, the sun would be up before I could find shelter."

"And then it snowed," Buffy said softly.

"And then it snowed," he repeated. "Whatever miracle you created for the poof saved more than just him, Slayer."

"I'm glad," she told him. She sat up and pulled her shirt down, then crossed her legs so she was sitting Indian-style on the bed.

"Some days I'm not," Spike told her truthfully. He turned and set the ashtray on the dresser. "Especially these past few days."

Buffy was surprised. The past few days had been spent with her, which meant... "Oh," she said, feeling her heart break. She stood. "I think I'd better go. It's past eight already..."

"Slayer," Spike said, turning and walking in front of her, effectively blocking her path. "I didn't mean it like you think. You are a beautiful, fascinating, marvelous woman. But now that I know that, it's even bloody harder."

"But why?" Buffy asked, raising her eyes to meet his. "I don't care if you have fangs or not. It's actually of the pos on the Chosen One end of the scale."

"Because nothing can come of it, luv," he replied.

"That's not an answer," she argued.

"Slayer-"

"No, I want to know why," Buffy said. "You said it wasn't me and I don't give a flying fig about the teeth. So why not? Are you in love with someone else?"

"No," he answered. "But-"

"Is it because you don't have a soul?" she continued. "That's actually a good thing, because then I don't have to worry about you losing it if we did things together that could make you lose it."

"Cor, Slayer, didn't you fucking listen to me?" Spike said, shoving a hand roughly through his hair. "I bloody told you that Dru made it so I couldn't have a lover."

"Yeah, that whole biting thing you brought up before..." He grabbed her hand suddenly and undid the fastenings on his jeans with his other hand. "What are you doing?" she squealed.

"This is why I can't love you, Slayer," Spike growled, taking her hand and shoving it down his pants.

Buffy's wrist was painfully twisted, but it did not deter her from feeling what he wanted her to feel. Complete and utter shock hit her like a sledgehammer, and she stared up at him with huge eyes. Before she could say anything, he released her and stepped away, re-fastening his jeans. "You'd better go," he told her in a low voice. Then he turned, walked across the small hallway to the bathroom and shut the door with a purposeful click.

Part Seven

Buffy walked quietly into the bookstore, her thoughts focused on what had happened at the warehouse. She knew she didn't have all the facts, but she could piece together the information she had in order to formulate an idea about what happened to Spike. Drusilla attacked him in a jealous rage, hurt him, he got free and killed her and probably any other minions around wherever they had lived in Brazil.

Undoubtably, Whistler was using this information to blackmail him. However, she couldn't figure out how, other than the fact that it was embarrassing. "Well, more than embarrassing, more like de-manning."

"Talking to yourself again, Buff?" Xander said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Buffy raised her head to see Xander, Willow, Oz and Cordelia sitting at a table in the back room of the bookstore. Angel was standing uncomfortably behind the table while Giles was leafing through a book in his hands, as usual. "Oh, hi guys."

"So, where's the prince of darkness?" Xander asked.

"Home," she replied, not rising to the bait. She wasn't in the mood for joking or much of anything. She wanted to go back to her dorm room, curl up in front of the window, and think.

"Is everything ok, Buffy?" Willow asked. "Between you and...Spike? Couple-wise?"

Buffy smirked at her friend's attempt to not-so-subtly follow the plan. A plan which she no longer cared about. "We're just friends, nothing more," she said. Giles looked relieved and Xander actually bounced giddily, making her roll her eyes. Willow and Oz exchanged confused glances, and Buffy shook her head when the redhead looked at her, indicated she'd explain later.

"Since when do just friends play tonsil hockey in the middle of the street?" Cordelia said to Buffy. "You two looked like you were going to go at it right there."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked, confused.

"We saw you, Buffy," Angel said quietly. "Outside of the Sunnydale Cemetery earlier. With Spike."

The name was said with such venom, Buffy's eyes shot to him, and she was greeted with a semi-angry gaze across the room. That served only to piss her off. "What right do you have to be angry? You have no say-so on who I kiss or not. Just like I don't get to tell you not to suck face with Cordelia."

Xander's head whipped towards Cordelia, an astonished expression on his face. "You sucked face with Deadboy?!"

"I did not," Cordelia said.

"But we saw you!" Willow said. "You had your hand down his...and your tongue was...you just were!"

"Oh, so now you're playing spy-girl, too?" Cordelia sneered.

"Hey, don't talk to Willow like that, corpse-kisser," Xander snapped at her.

"There you go, rushing to her rescue," Cordelia said, gesturing towards Oz. "Why do you put up with his crap? He kissed your girlfriend."

"Children-" Giles said.

"Cordelia and I are just friends," Angel said, rounding the table. He stopped directly in front of Buffy.

"Really, Angel," Buffy said sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at the vampire. "Since when do you smooch with 'just friends'?"

"It was part of a case...," Angel defended.

"Save it, lover-boy," Buffy told him. "I don't care if you two were madly in love with each other and screwed on the table over there in front of us."

"But Buffy, the plan...," Willow said, having caught Buffy's words.

"As Spike would say, bugger the plan," Buffy said to Willow.

"What plan?" Angel said, narrowing his eyes.

"Angel, go sit on it and rotate," she replied sweetly.

"Hey, don't talk to Angel like that," Cordelia snapped.

"Defending your new sugar-daddy?" Xander asked maliciously.

"That's going a little bit too far, man," Oz said, trying to keep the peace.

"Shut up, Oz," Cordelia said, then turned to Xander. "He's younger than your 1,200 year old man-hater."

"Don't talk to Oz like that," Willow growled, glaring at Cordelia.

"Look what you did," Buffy hissed at Angel.

"I did?!" Angel said.

"Everyone, that is enough!" Giles said sharply. All eyes turned to him in shock. He was holding his glasses in his hand and glaring at them. "We have work to do, and I do not want to listen to your petty bickering. I personally do not care who kissed whom, or who is shagging whom for that matter. Now, may we get to the problem at hand, or shall I go out and do this on my own?"

The group immediately mumbled apologies and looked significantly chastised. "Thank you," Giles said, replacing his glasses. "Now then, we have a-a possibly serious situation. The creature Javocarn is said to arise every millennia on the new moon the seventh month of the Roman calendar, which is septem."

"Septem is September on our calendar," Angel said.

"And the new moon is at its peak at 11: 37," Willow supplied, reading from her Witches Almanac. "Which is in twenty minutes."

"Any idea on what this Java guy looks like?" Buffy asked.

"Javocarn," Giles corrected.

"Him, too," she said, smiling at Giles.

"This book here says coffee-dude will be 'heralded by the Wastrels,' whatever those are," Xander read.

"They are wraith-like beings," Giles said.

"Tall, skinny, some-what pasty?" Buffy asked. Giles nodded. "Met them, killed them...I think."

"When was this?" Giles asked.

"Earlier tonight," she replied.

"Would this be before or after we saw you searching for Spike's tongue with your own?" Cordelia asked.

Buffy ignored her. "There were six of them," she told Giles. "They should still be lying in Sunnydale Cemetery, waiting for burial detail."

"Then it-it is most probable that Javocarn will arise at that location," Giles said.

"What are we waiting for?" Buffy said. "Let's go grind us some coffee-beans."

"Uh, Buffy," Willow said. "We don't know how to kill him."

Buffy shrugged. "So I'll improvise." She went over to the new weapons locker and opened it. The first thing that caught her eye was a pair of short staffs, which reminded her of fighting with Spike earlier that day. Thinking it a sign, she took them both, then shut the locker.

*****

"Hi," Buffy greeted Spike hesitantly as she approached him by the mausoleum, staffs in hand. He was leaning against the outer wall of the stone crypt, smoking a cigarette. "Where's the dead guys?"

"In there," Spike said, gesturing with his head to the open entryway. She peered inside and saw the bodies of the six Wastrels they'd killed earlier. "Figured I'd best get them out of sight until we can dispose of them."

"Good idea," she said. She glanced at him, but he avoided looking at her, and she felt uncomfortable. "The others will be here soon. Giles thinks the creature is going to pop up right here."

"Everyone?" he asked pointedly.

"Yeah, Angel and Cordelia, too," Buffy replied. "They saw us kissing in the street before..."

"Go ahead and say it, Slayer," Spike said bitterly, flicking his cigarette away. "Before you found out I was bloody asexualized."

"I was going to say before I changed my mind about pretending to be a couple to get back at Angel," Buffy snapped.

"Oh, that makes such a big difference," he replied, sarcastically.

She smacked him in the chest with the top of one of the staffs. "Listen, you dumb-ass vampire, I changed my mind because I could care less what Angel thinks."

Spike yanked the staff away from her with a growl. Buffy's eyes narrowed and she moved away from the mausoleum. He followed her, spinning the short staff expertly, an angry set to his jaw. Without warning, he lashed out, jabbing the end into her stomach before she could block. She oomph'd as the air rushed out of her, but she twisted the staff in her hands quickly, knocking his away.

This fight was not for fun, as it had been earlier. Both of them were fighting their own private demons with each snap of wood on wood. With each hit, Spike let out his anger at her reaction, over the hope that he'd had she'd react differently, of the futility of his having fallen in love with her. Buffy parried each one and struck back, not at him, but at what Drusilla did to hurt him, at Whistler's callous blackmail, at the fact that he thought her to be so shallow.

The others arrived at the cemetery, but neither Spike nor Buffy noticed. They tried to get their attention, but it wasn't until the ground began to shake and Javocarn erupted from the soil directly in front of them that they stopped.

Buffy turned and glared at the creature, whose brown skin, eye stalks and long limbs did nothing to threaten her. "Hey, we were fighting here," she growled at it. She raised her staff like a baseball bat, jumped straight up and swung at its eye stalk.

Javocarn's left eye went flying towards the others, where it hit Xander mid-chest with a sickening, wet thud. It howled in pain and focused its remaining eye on Buffy, turning and reaching for her with its clawed hands as she ran behind it. Buffy ducked and smacked it across the knees.

"What the Slayer said," Spike snarled as the creature bent to clutch its legs. He wound up and slammed the staff into its other eye stalk, sending the eye careening towards the group, as well. It also hit Xander, this time in the face, and the brunette yelled out in disgust.

Blind now, Javocarn swung its long limbs wildly. The Slayer slammed her staff into its gut the same time Spike smashed his down against the back of its neck. The creature fell face first onto the ground, and they both drove the ends of their staffs into its back simultaneously, piercing it to the earth.

A loud, ear-shattering screech filled the night, making everyone clamp their hands over their ears. Javocarn's body began to shudder in front of Buffy and Spike, then it exploded. Blue slime and innards rained down on the two, covering them completely.

Buffy wiped her closed eyes off with her fingers, flicking away the thick, blue slime before opening them. She saw Spike and burst out laughing so hard, she fell to the ground amidst the goop. "You...you...you...," she sputtered, trying to tell him he looked like the guy who got slimed in Men In Black.

Spike glared down at her, his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh. She reminded him of Smurfette, with her blond hair and blue skin. Then it started to burn.

A low snarl ripped from him at the same time that Buffy let out a pain-filled scream. She got up and began frantically brushing at her skin. "GET IT OFF!! GET IT OFF!!"

Spike grabbed her arm and pulled her after him as he started to run, ignoring the others. Pain exploded in his mouth as he lost control of his human mask, but he did not stop. Within minutes, he was kicking open the door to the warehouse and they were flying up the stairs, shedding their coats on the way. Both of them were crying and whimpering from the excruciating pain.

He practically threw Buffy into the shower and jumped in after her, turning the water on full blast. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it up and over her head, then did the same to her bra as she ripped the fastenings of his jeans and began to shove them down. He let go of her to pull his t-shirt over his head and she undid her own pants and pushed them down to her ankles.

Buffy flopped onto the floor of the tub with a sob, trying to pull her shoes off. Spike dropped to his knees and yanked them off of her, then grabbed her pants. As he pulled, she slid down and smacked her head on the metal faucet, and she yelled out as stars danced in front of her vision.

Twisting his body, he sat down and wrenched his own boots from his feet, throwing them out of the tub. His socks and jeans followed, along with the rest of their sodden clothing. Growling continuously, he stood and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. He uncapped it and poured almost the entire bottle on top of the Slayer, who still sat on the floor under half of the spray, then he dumped the rest over his head.

Buffy felt the cool shampoo cover her and she began to scrub at her skin with it, especially her face and hands. The burning started to fade as she rinsed the soap away. She shakily stood up near the wall and hit her head again, this time on the shower caddy hanging from the shower head. She felt Spike's hands on her shoulders and he pulled her towards him until she was directly under the spray.

Spike grabbed the bar of soap from the caddy and began to run it over the Slayer, starting with her shoulders and back. The burning had stopped for him, leaving only the pain in his mouth from when he had lost control. His human mask was back in place, allowing him to concentrate on making sure all the slime was off of her.

Buffy felt Spike's hands everywhere on her and she opened her eyes in time to see him drop to his knees in front of her. Despite the non-gentleness of his touch, the eroticism of the position he was in caused her to inhale sharply and arousal flood her core. He must have heard her, because he raised his head and met her eyes.

She gasped, her head lolling forward when he put his mouth against her mound. She felt his cool tongue flick her clit and she felt a jolt of electricity course through her. "Oh god, Spike," she moaned as he began to suck on her nub, his hands sliding up her soapy skin to her buttocks. He held her to his face, pleasuring her, as