Chapter One

Spike balanced himself on the awning outside the Slayer's window and listened to her dream. The tiny whimpers told him it was a bad one but there were no words, nothing to indicate which of the troubles in her life was giving her nightmares at the moment. He hesitated on the window ledge, unwilling to enter uninvited. She may have been spirited in her defence of him the day before but Spike was afraid of her reaction if she woke to find him in her room.

But a second anguished sob broke his resolve and a moment later he was kneeling beside the bed, gently shaking Buffy's shoulder.

"Spike, no!" she screamed, jerking bolt upright.

Ah, that dream. Spike blanched and was already backing away, hands up in denial, as she opened her eyes.

Buffy had seemed perfectly relaxed in his company during the day, no longer skittish as he'd put it. Had requested his presence, more than once, and he'd allowed himself to hope that she was starting to forget how he'd hurt her, now he'd have to chalk that down to Buffy's amazing fortitude and dedication to the mission.

That was his girl alright, gold medal in bottling things up. Too focused on her duty to bother with hysterics, and too compassionate to hate him like she must want to. These last few weeks he thought he'd been helping, she'd asked him to stay; maybe she just knew how much he needed to feel needed.

And it left Spike in a bit of a dilemma. To flee now would be cowardly and downright strange, but he was well aware he was the last person she would want to see right now.

Buffy swam into consciousness to find she was already sitting up. She blinked owlishly at Spike who looked like small child caught at a bad thing, backing towards the bedroom window in nervous dismay.

"Sorry L... Slayer, didn't mean to intrude. You were... I mean... I'll be off."

Buffy ran a tired hand through her hair. "S'okay. Stay a minute. I was having a really horrible dream."

"Yeah, I heard." Spike shook his head, half to himself, refusing to meet her eye. "Can't be nice waking up to find me here, I'll get out of your hair." He dared a glance up. "I am so sorry, Slayer."

"Kind of got used to you calling me Buffy," she remarked absently, rubbing her eyes again and trying to shake off that nightmare feeling of dread. She eyed Spike narrowly. "It's not so much better waking up in a cold sweat on your own, no need to be sorry."

"Meant about giving you nightmares in the first place. And you can't want me here, do understand that."

"You'd think you'd have learnt your lesson, assuming you know what I want."

Spike visibly flinched, frozen halfway between the bed and the window. And where the hell had self-pitying Spike returned from when they were getting along so nicely? Comprehension dawned, only one thing could make Spike brood.

"Wasn't that kind of dream," she spoke softly, "And I didn't mean it like that."

Buffy wanted to say more, cause it was unnatural seeing Spike so dejected, but she didn't want to think about her dream and was too tired to find the words.

"Wasn't the other kind," said Spike dryly, not approaching the bed. "They smell nicer. And you said my name, screamed my name. Again, not in a good way." His eyes were sympathetic as much as pained, no melodrama here, just regret.

Maybe Buffy could learn to appreciate the new Spike, if only he would stop moping. But right now she was missing the classic version, especially the way he told her everything in a stream of consciousness rant that left her in no doubt what he was thinking. God he could be exhausting, but she had less than no idea of what to do with penitent Spike.

"Wasn't that kind of dream," Buffy repeated. "Only a nightmare of the standard 'we're all going to die' variety. Everyone was dead." She shuddered despite herself, trying to erase the mental image of her slain friends.

"I killed them?"

"Fuck no!" Buffy exclaimed with genuine exasperation. "There really is just the one lonely track in your mind, isn't there? And I really think I preferred it when the train was going in the other direction. Was a time when if I'd said your name in my sleep you'd never let me forget it, now you get all offended."

"I'm not-" for a second there was a glimpse of the old Spike, quickly reined in. Buffy decided to poke a little more.

"You know, you're starting to sound entirely too much like another vampire of my acquaintance."

"So what were you telling me not to do?"

The question was mildly spoken but the fear in his voice gave him away, he was plainly sure his original assumption was correct.

"You don't have to spare my feelings," he continued when she didn't answer. "I deserve it, we both know it, but you don't and I'm so-"

"Disintegrate," interrupted Buffy, unable to stand any more.

"Huh?"

If a reference to Angel wasn't enough to distract him she'd just have to steel herself and find the words. "The Uber-vamp killed everybody. You remember, the evil baddies that I'm actually worried about? I was going to kill the Uber-vamp when you just appeared, like apparated. Now I think about it, was probably my subconscious noticing you in the room. Like when your alarm goes off and your dream suddenly gets real noisy? Or if you get cramp in the night and dream something's biting your leg. Do vampires get cramp?"

Turned out her subconscious really didn't want to talk about her dream, either. She noticed Spike's raised eyebrow. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Yeah," agreed Spike fondly. "But I'm making a tit of myself so you're one up."

Buffy returned his grin but still felt a little uneasy, dreams for her too often portents. And she wanted to make sure he understood.

"I staked you," she confessed. "I was going for the Uber-vamp and I couldn't stop and you dusted. Really wasn't a good dream. But it was kind of nice that you were here when I woke up. And by the way? I think you've apologised enough for your entire existence, and if you don't cut it out you're going to end up with a deficit of evil deeds to catch up on."

And there was a real smile, the one he seemed to save specially for her.

"'Kay Love." His eyes held oceans of feeling but all he said was; "I'll take my self absorbed arse out of here and let you get some sleep."

Buffy pouted and wriggled over to the far side of the bed. "Stay. You can protect me from the nasty nightmares."

Buffy guiltily enjoyed watching Spike's face try to decide on an expression. Surprise, pleasure, doubt, more guilt, and oh look, lust. But she almost wished she hadn't spoken as he seemed to settle on embarrassment and toed at her carpet as he answered.

"Mighty kind of you Love. But I think I'm safest in the basement."

Buffy shrugged and burrowed herself under the covers. Well damn him too, not like she was going to jump him and they really did have an overcrowding problem.

"Suit yourself. But you'll be sharing with two new potentials and frankly I snore less."

Spike narrowed his eyes. "More girls?"

"'Fraid so. Giles got back after you went to patrol." Buffy folded back a corner of the duvet and patted the bed invitingly. "You are welcome, Spike, though it's okay if you'd rather not."

"Oh I'd rather." He stared at her a long moment before seeming to come to a decision, strode swiftly across the room and sat down on the bed. His movements were brusque and defensive as he unlaced his boots. "One more teenager and I might have had a relapse."

He suddenly turned and frowned anxiously. "I'm kidding, you know that, right?"

Buffy offered him a sleepy smile. "You're such an idiot, sometimes. I thought we were friends now?"

The absurdly pleased smile he gave her in return made Buffy feel indefinably guilty as he shrugged off his duster and got into bed fully clothed. Impulsively she snuggled against his chest.

Spike hesitated a second then put his arm round her shoulder and lightly kissed her hair.

"So we're friends now?"

A flash of panic but it didn't sound like a loaded question, just hopeful.

"Yes," she answered firmly.

"We're gonna win, Buffy Love. You're gonna give the source of all evil a darned good talking to and break all its evil toys and I'll have your back, the whole time, you know that?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Cause you deserve to have nice dreams about puppies and boybands and such."

Buffy laughed. Tried to imagine a dream where she slaughtered evil boybands but was just too tired. And this was just so... nice. Could dream about fluffy bunnies every night, sleeping like this, held and soothed and protected.

Why did her life have to be so complicated?

"Night Spike."

"Goodnight Buffy."

Spike listened as her breathing deepened and her heart rate slowed, wished he could pinpoint and preserve the precise moment of her falling asleep in his arms. When he was sure she was under he planted another soft kiss on her forehead.

"Love you, Buffy."

"Love you too," she muttered against his chest.

Spike smiled. It may not be him she was dreaming of this time, but it was enough that he'd stopped the nightmares.

Chapter Two

Buffy woke to familiar and long missed sensations. Cool hard muscle against her back, the heel of a hand lightly resting on the curls between her legs, fingers gently stroking the inside of her thigh starting a delicious tension in her body.

Sleepily she sensed as much as remembered Spike. She could feel him curled around her, face buried in the curve of her shoulder, denim clothed erection hard against her backside. From the aimless smoothing of his fingers and the stillness of his ever busy mouth Buffy guessed he was still asleep and took a moment to enjoy his gentle touch. Arousing and yet she felt tranquil; it was hard not to imagine what might have been.

And those fingers, making her moist even in sleep from sheer memory of what they could do. Unconsciously Buffy arched back against Spike, who moaned into her neck and pulled her tighter.

"Spike?" she asked softly.

"Mmmm," He shifted against her, fingers moving confidently to her slit. Found her pleasure spot, moving in rhythm with her breathing, and Buffy felt herself quickly getting to a place where control wasn't.

"Spike?" she repeated a little louder, reluctant to move in case she caused a... reaction. "You awake?"

"Buffy..." he breathed reverently into her hair, nuzzling closer to inhale the scent of her skin. Then froze. "Buffy?"

There was a very long silence as neither so much as twitched. Eventually the tension got to the Slayer.

"Would you move, one way or the other, the suspense is killing me."

And move he did, getting tangled in the bedding in his haste to be away from her. "I am so very sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to... I'm so... Shit!"

Buffy snagged his T-shirt and unceremoniously yanked him back down on the bed. Half wanted to knock a little confidence back into him but he looked so very guilty she didn't have the heart.

God she was sick of guilty Spike. 120 years of killing people and she just knew all that guilt was tied up to five minutes in her bathroom.

"I thought we agreed you needed to go cold turkey on the apologising?"

"Yeah. I'm..." Spike caught himself and managed a wry chuckle. "I'm guessing saying sorry for apologising is going to get me a slap?"

"At the very least," said Buffy firmly, leaning back against the headboard. She was still feeling illicit tingles, but now was definitely time for mature Buffy, not the nympho ho-biscuit version. So she tried to put lustful memories out of her mind and concentrate on this new man before her.

He looked much the same, black uniform and radioactive hair still screaming big bad but the body language no longer matched; still and supplicating instead of confident and graceful. Underneath she was certain she could see much of the old Spike, not in the wishful way she'd tried to trace Angel's likeness in Angelus' mocking features, but the traces of wit and perception that leaked through his new demeanour.

In the few weeks he'd been relatively sane they'd had one crisis, and potential, after another to deal with.

It had been easy to think of Spike in the context of a problem to be solved, a hostage to be rescued, another body to find space for in her ridiculously crowded house. And another strain on the tense relationship between the Slayer and her former mentor.

She'd not had to consider Spike the person when she'd decided to have the chip removed. Repair would have meant further contact with the Initiative, one way or another, and he'd earned the benefit of the doubt. Now he had a soul he fell into the category of people to be rescued, rather than disposed of, a Scooby of sorts and under the Slayer's protection.

There'd been no shortage of high drama, but none of it really helped her figure out who he was.

"So you gonna talk to me, or just leave in a really awkward silence? And before you say it, I'm aware of the irony."

Spike gave her a smile that turned tingles into something warmer. "You're a fucking lovely woman, you know that?"

He ducked his head bashfully and Buffy found herself blushing right along with him, took his hand as he continued. "You should hate me. What I did to you was unforgivable. But you make me welcome. Can't tell you, Love, what it means to me."

A girl could lose herself in that voice. Not the same rough drawl that whispered unspeakable things in her ear, but an old Spike voice just the same. Full of wonder and love, exuding feeling. Had the same effect too, make her feel weak at the knees even when she wasn't standing and she wanted to make him feel more than welcome. But this was mature Buffy, who tackled problems head on.

"Is this still all about what happened in the bathroom?"

Spike flinched but made no attempt to move, still stretched out on the bed where she'd pulled him down, looking up at her and toying with the cuff of his sleeve as he answered.

"Promised I'd changed, wouldn't ever touch you when you didn't want..."

"Jeez, Spike. You were asleep and I was way over on your side of the bed. And I asked you to be here. Now I might not always be the most reasonable person in the world but you can't expect me to be that pissed at you."

"T'isn't that."

"No," Buffy sighed, ran a hand through sleep mussed hair. "You think you've damaged me. You keep expecting me to have a big freak-out every time you get too close."

"I think I might have put you off me," corrected Spike patiently. "Thought you wouldn't like waking up with my hands on you, and I don't blame you."

"Well I kinda did, actually." Suddenly he was laying far too close and the Slayer also picked a piece of material to hold her attention as she explained. "I was having a very pleasant dream and it was just... relaxing. You should know me well enough by now, when you're pissing me off I tend to let you know. And I wasn't afraid you wouldn't stop if I wanted you to, more worried about another round of metaphorical breast beating."

She eyed him sideways. Spike was still looking up at her, a little uncertainly, and she got the uneasy feeling he was waiting for his dismissal, or at least for her to tell him what he was expected to do next. It was power of the non-erotic kind, far too loaded with responsibility.

"I know you have all these tortured new William bits now and I don't really know you any more, maybe he had mopey depths and you're liking the self flagellation. But if you're feeling so bad cause you think you caused me harm, then you can stop now. Not one of my favourite memories, sure, but I don't have nightmares about you, Spike."

He made to interrupt but Buffy forged on.

"You don't scare me, or creep me out. I like you. And I'd like to find out who you are now, and there's got to be more than all this... jumpiness.

"It used to be so easy to see what you were thinking and now you've got this iron reserve thing going on because of something I'd hardly think about except you've got me on tenterhooks in case I accidentally set off your conscience. And you won't tell me what you're thinking, in case it's not what I want you to be thinking. Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is? You did a bad thing, you're sorry, I forgive you, get over it. Truth is we both of us did worse last year, and should probably both suffer for it, but life goes on and we have a war to fight, they'll be plenty of suffering all round when that goes down-"

"And I'm distracting you from the killing by trying not to be evil?"

"Well at least you remember sarcasm."

The vampire rolled onto his back with a sigh. "I'm an all-round dickhead, Love. But humour me just a while longer, would you? What do you mean, I did worse?"

"Telling me I came back wrong, for one. Did more damage, caused more harm. And I didn't say you, Spike, I said we. I've never been your victim, have I? Hardly encouraged niceness. Beat you nearly to death for trying to help me, hated you for loving me. Was angry and bitter and downright horrible and I took most of it out on you, because I could. And I'm sorry too, really I am, but I'm trying to be a different person now and you've pretty much taken that idea to it's extreme already, so we can start over. If you want to."

"Well you're certainly a lot chattier than you used to be," said Spike, sounding just a little awed.

"Motivational Speeches are now my forte," Buffy mocked herself with a slight smile. "Did it work?"

"'Bout fifty-fifty, I'd say. I have an almost uncontrollable urge to apologise for being so bloody wet."

Buffy giggled, a hiccupping fit of laughter that had her sliding down the bed to lay beside him. "You'd better be joking," she choked.

"I'm joking," he confirmed quietly. "And I want to, start over that is. Been in my own little world of self-pity and you're right, it's pathetic. I want to be friends, more than anything, and I don't want to mess it up." His mouth quirked up into a mischievous smile. "So just to clarify, you're not mad at me?"

Buffy groaned and rolled her eyes, decided he might just be too much so early in the morning and pulled the duvet over her head.

"Yes I'm mad at you, you halfwit. You get me all aroused when I'm trying to be mature Buffy and not jump you when you're all vulnerable and confused. Then you make with the big scaredy runaway and I have to try and form sentences at seven o'clock in the morning and now you think it's funny. God you're so frustrating."

Spike lifted up the edge of the duvet and peered at her doubtfully. "Say that again."

"Uh... you're so frustrating?"

"Not that bit," he growled.

Buffy mentally processed her last few sentences. Hmmm, maybe some thoughts were best left in her head. Absolutely way too soon for any putting on of moves but how was she supposed to concentrate on what she was saying when he was so close on her bed, openly admiring now her skimpy satin nightgown. Not too late for a hasty back-pedal and a bit of misdirection which was always easier when Spike wasn't looking at her with those questioning blue eyes and had she really missed the way he'd looked right into her?

"I said vulnerable and confused," she snapped a little defensively. "I could have said miserable and annoying but this is mature Buffy, remember? And I'm above pointing out how very far up your own ass you've got since you got that soul."

Spike laughed with delight. "Missed you too, bitch. Does mature Buffy always hide under quilts?"

She yanked the bedding out of his hand and darkness returned. "Not hiding," her voice was muffled, "Attempting to recover my sanity. And looking at you makes my head hurt. Besides, if I meditate hard enough I'll realise you're just a necessary part of life's rich tapestry."

"And when did you get all one with the universe?"

"Right after you left, actually," came the muted reply. "Big epiphany, you should have been there. I'm not saying I'm issue free but I'm gonna get there, maybe just a few more decades of meditating."

Spike lifted the quilt again, smiling his amusement but his voice was soft and serious. "You forgive me?"

"Yes, you moron." A tiny hand snuck out to punch his shoulder. "I swear, Spike, mature Buffy's really losing her grip. Any second now I'm just gonna-"

"Jump me?" interjected the vampire, and that interested quirk of the eyebrow was pure old Spike.

It made Buffy shudder and forget she was sulking. "Maybe," she admitted, pulling the duvet down to hide lust fuelled Buffy. "Escape while you still can."

"Uh... Buffy Love? If you're relying on my self control, we're both fucked."

Buffy snorted. "You don't seem to be doing so bad, bleach boy. First Evil induced hysterics notwithstanding. You certainly- Oh my! What are you doing?"

Cold hand coasted over the satin of her nightie and Buffy tried not to gasp. Spike ducked all the way under the duvet to answer, staring down at her in the near darkness.

"Relieving your frustrations," he whispered, tugging at the hem of her slip. "Or losing control, not sure. Just seemed like a real good idea to touch you and you're not telling me any different."

Oh shit, she'd forgotten how to think.

Spike was pushing the silky material further up her thigh and he already knew she wasn't wearing underwear.

And Buffy'd used up her self restraint quota when she'd woken up and a few sleepy touches brought her so close. Was this too soon? Or was this what she'd been waiting for all along? Good thing or bad thing? She couldn't remember. Concentrated on the feel of Spike's hands as he pulled the nightie over her hips, knew he could see better in the dark than her.

"There's been no-one since me, has there? Can feel it, the tension in you. Tell me you aren't aching for a bit of touch?"

"Potentials!" Buffy groaned into the duvet.

"They're all underage, Love." He bowed his head to kiss her stomach, settling his weight between her legs.

"No... Me... God, Spike! You know I can't be quiet."

Spike stilled his movement, the hem of her gown taut across her nipples. "You want I should stop?"

What? She had to think more? When he was laying fully clothed against her near naked body and making her desperate for more touching.

"No, want you."

She reached to pull him up to her but Spike batted her hands away. "Cut that out. I've dreamed of touching you in this bed, intend to make the most of it. We're friends right? Nothing's going to change that?"

The last words were said with a fierce intensity that almost wasn't a question but Buffy answered anyway, breathlessly.

"I'm much less of a bitch now, honestly. Perhaps we can get along."

Spike was touching her in earnest now, stirring sinfully good memories and brand new sensations.

"Nothing wrong with being a bitch, pet. Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?"

"You've been unusually restrained on the subject of late."

Hey look at that, her brain still worked. But not for much longer, if he carried on skirting her erogenous zones. The tension seemed to be building in Spike, too, there was a catch in his voice as he continued.

"And sexy and alive and kind and strong and gorgeous."

He pulled the nightie over her head and tossed it to the floor, throwing back the duvet in one smooth movement. "Wanna see you, Love. So beautiful... And you'll tell me if this is too much? If I go too far? What with you being naked and all I might not be thinking too clearly."

Buffy moaned encouragement, arched into his hand as he tugged at a nipple. "Nowhere near far enough... need more..."

"Good, cause I wasn't done. Love this gorgeous little body, that you're letting me touch you. Love you. Love that you can still laugh, love the way you care, even about me. Love the smell of your skin, so soft, the smell of your pretty little pussy. And did I mention you're looking better? Got some flesh over that muscle now, Pet, lovely round curves-”

"Spike?" Buffy interrupted, voice quivering.

"Yes Love?" He lifted his head to look at her, and for a long few seconds Buffy was captivated by those gorgeous, questioning blue eyes.

"When you're done listing my imaginary virtues, and telling me I'm fat, I can think of better uses for that mouth."

"Yes Love."

Buffy wasn't sure if she was coming down or coming to as she opened her eyes. Spike was hovering over her, blue eyes a little startled, looking like he wanted to smile but not quite sure if it was appropriate.

"You okay?"

He sounded like the whole world was balancing on her answer, when it was the silliest question possible. "No," Buffy whined with a teasing smile. "My knees don't work and I feel all dizzy. D'you think I might be coming down with something?"

The vampire gave her a patented Spike look, adoration and amusement all mixed in. Even fully clothed he was a gorgeous sight, muted morning light glinting through his hair, there weren't words to tell him.

"You look just fine to me. Very hot-"

"Would you kiss me already?"

He dipped his head to comply, slow languid kisses that felt they could go on forever.

Or until there was a bang at the door.

"Buffy! If you don't wake up and get your ass downstairs Vi and Rona are going to kill each other over a bowl of cereal!"

Spike rolled off her, hastily pulling the duvet up but the door stayed closed. Buffy gave a small whimper. "Can we hide? Hiding sounds good."

"Only if you think you can spare a potential or two."

Another whimper and an armful of naked slayer snuggled against his chest like a little girl, leaving Spike torn between lust and manly pride.

Buffy tilted her head to pout at him, got distracted by cheekbones and a soft smile.

"Don't think I ever told you you're beautiful."

And she would have done earlier if she'd known he could smile like that. "Balls to the potentials. I wanna stay here and tell you that you're beautiful."

And kiss, she added mentally as he caught her mouth again, tongue probing gently and leaving her bereft as he pulled back.

"I love you. Now go battle evil. And have some breakfast."

Chapter Three

"Are you boinking her again?"

The question made Spike spit his coffee clean across the kitchen island. Could only have come from Dawn. Well maybe Anya, but that faintly accusatory tone, the teenage disdain, definitely his Niblet. And Anya had never deliberately timed her inappropriate questions with such embarrassing precision.

He'd been dreading this conversation, knew Dawn would have waited till he had no hope of rescue.

"Where did that come from?" he asked carefully, turning round to face her.

Dawn took a step closer, a predatory gleam in her eye. "You weren't anywhere to be found when I woke the potentials, yet here you are. D'you want me to repeat the question?"

God she'd grown up in his absence. Not just height wise, though she had a good inch on him now. He didn't know, any longer, how to talk to her

"There has been no boinking," he answered stiffly. "Not that I can see how it's any of your business, Bit."

"My business when you turn evil again and murder us all in our sleep."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Did I mention I'm now immune to guilt trips and emotional blackmail? You know that's never gonna happen, you're just being nosy."

Dawn hopped up on the kitchen counter with an unrepentant grin, immediately changing tack. "Duh! Teenager here. I have a God given right to stick my nose in anywhere it's not wanted. Especially when it's about my sister. So spill."

Spike tried to hide that deer in headlights feeling, knew it would only get worse if she scented blood.

"You've heard my thoughts on the subject many a time, pet. In my perfect world there'd be nothing but boinking. I suspect your sister has other priorities."

Time to divert with a serious question. "Would you mind?"

"I'd mind if you hurt her," answered Dawn promptly. "I'd threaten to stake you but I hear there's a queue."

Well at least there was one thing he could say with certainty. "I wouldn't hurt her. Know you've heard it before but it's never going to happen again. Fucked up though it is you're my family, little as you might want me I'll never hurt either of you again."

"You don't know that."

Challenge or just cynicism?

"Damn well do. And you didn't answer my question."

Another shrug. "She got happier, after you left. It took a while but she got better."

The words stung and he knew they were meant to, but verbal dig out of the way she seemed to be seriously pondering the question.

"She missed you. You could tell cause she never mentioned you. She kept giving me all these feminist lectures about how no always means no and all men are idiots. When I asked about you she said, and I quote, 'it's complicated.' I want her to be happy, but it's still twisted, that she could want to be with you after what you did to her."

"Don't think she does, was hypothetical is all."

"In that case I don't mind a bit," said Dawn, with a not entirely kind smile. "You're way easier to get info out of than Buffy, anyway."

"Sorry Bit, you want gossip 'bout your sister you're gonna have to ask her."

"Yeah?" There was a threat in that short word. "So if you're not sticking it to her, why were you in her room? All night."

"You take that back," Spike sputtered, much to Dawn's amusement. "You can't say things like that, s'not right. Just kipped in there is all, she had a bad dream."

Dawn opened her mouth and Spike was truly afraid of what she might ask next, so he carried right on talking. "It's not like that, you dirty minded little tramp."

And it really hadn't been, but he was thinking of the morning after and the words didn't ring true. "S'all perfectly innocent, we're friends now and... Bloody hell! I'm playing right into your hands, aren't I?"

"Like a fly in a web."

He snorted. Outwitted by a chit of a girl who mixed her metaphors. "You're wasting your time. There isn't anything to find out, and I can't tell you what your sis is thinking cause I don't know. I'm never going to be the happy ending for Buffy, I know that, but I love her and that's never gonna change either, don't need to know all the answers just yet. Love you too, for what it's worth, know I made a lousy job of that as well."

"Too right. And don't think you're getting round me with big sad eyes, you're playing the master." But she very nearly smiled, and didn't try all that hard to hide it.

"I'm not playing. You ever gonna forgive me?"

"Not my place to," said Dawn flatly. "It's not like we're friends."

And on that petty note Dawn flounced out of the kitchen.

********

Buffy couldn't sleep.

She wasn't frustrated, absolutely not, but she'd half expected Spike to join her again tonight and when it became clear he wasn't going to she had to lie awake and wonder why not.

They'd been getting on well enough in the morning, hadn't they? After the obligatory angst and before they were interrupted, and it felt to Buffy that something had changed. Like they had unfinished business, but he didn't come.

Had he been waiting for an invitation? She'd hardly had time to gather her thoughts during the day.

Or a worse thought, was he waiting for her command?

Buffy tried to remember the exact details of their conversation, marathon in length by their standards. Seemed she'd talked an awful lot. Had she coaxed out a new, fun-having Spike? Or given him to think she required his services?

It was almost unbearable to believe he'd touched her because it had been expected of him, because he thought that was why she wanted him around. But she'd hardly been guarded in her reactions to him, that was what she wanted and Spike had always been good at anticipating her needs.

But it wasn't enough that he would give Buffy what she wanted, she didn't know if she could reciprocate, especially when she didn't know what it was.

He'd kissed her and told her that he loved her, Spike had never lied about such things and it wasn't fair to doubt him now.
So Buffy lay in the dark and doubted herself.

She could ask him, if he was here, but then if he'd come they probably wouldn't be talking and that was her fault too. She'd pushed too fast and tempted him too soon and now he was probably avoiding her in case she was mad at him.

Why wasn't telepathy included in the inventory of slayer skills?

Maybe he was mad at her? Thought she was treating him as a convenience as she had done last year, and maybe he wasn't wrong.

If the apocalypse could hold off for a couple more weeks maybe they could find a minute to talk. She was getting better at the talking, and not just motivational speeches. Hell, it could be fun, gossiping and teasing like she'd done before she got so lost.

But it didn't seem fair to tease Spike when he was sensitive to her every word, she didn't know how to regain the easy bantering relationship they'd shared before the sex. She needed him to talk but didn't know how to ask the questions without also dictating the answers, if he knew what she wanted him to say then she couldn't trust he wasn't just saying what he thought she wanted to hear.

He'd said he still loved her and she had to trust that. Maybe it was unfair to expect him to share his thoughts when she'd shut him down so often in the past, and she'd pushed too hard already.

Maybe it was just her turn to lie awake and wonder what the hell was going on in his head.

Karmic retribution.
********

A strong hand diverted Spike's course to the basement door and he found himself facing Buffy in the hallway.

"What's up, Slayer? New instrument of the first? Andrew been cooking again?"

"No, nothing apocalyptical." Buffy hugged herself, glanced into the empty kitchen. "I just wanted to talk to you, you've been all avoidy."

"I've been busy," he corrected. "With fifteen adolescents you won't let me kill.."

Spike looked at her more closely. All the signs of trouble were there in her body language, arms wrapped round a nagging worry she didn't want to share. He sighed. "Out with it, Buffy."

"Out with what?"

"Oh don't give me that. I can read you like a book. Just don't know what bizarre idea you'll have got into your head to worry about today."

He half expected a standard denial, but instead Buffy laughed.

"I do not have bizarre ideas. I have legitimate concerns, even if I'm not sure what they are, and I like frequent reassurance. You may have noticed I don't have such a good affect on people I share a bed with."

Spike wished for the millionth time in their acquaintance that she was easier to read, for all his boasting the print was still a little fuzzy. Concerns in which direction? Was this the 'don't make too much of it' talk or the 'am I still beautiful?' question. Knowing his Slayer she could worry about both simultaneously, and a hundred and one other things besides.

"You had a good affect on me, used to be evil, remember?"

He reached out to tug a lock of her hair and she leaned into his touch with a smile. "That's an interesting way of looking at it. Don't remember it being that simple."

Spike pulled her into a hug. "It's simple now. I'm not brooding, I'm not plotting evil, I haven't gone off you and I don't want anything from you, does that cover everything? I'm here for whatever you need, pet, and nothing's going to change less you want it to." He rubbed her shoulder, trying to will her to relax. "Hate to think I'm another headache for you when you've got so much on your plate."

"You're not a headache! Hey, maybe I just needed a hug."

Was Spike's turn to laugh as she wrapped her arm round his waist and snuggled closer. "Talking and hugging? Who are you and what have you done with my Slayer?"

"Oil! Update, bleach boy, not me that's been making with the meaningful silence just recently. When you're not stammering."

"Oil yourself! That was last week. I'm back to being my loud, obnoxious self I promise." Spike reached down to pinch her bum before making his escape to the cellar.

"You little..."

"Sorry love, can't stop," he called over his shoulder. "If I don't get back down there and supervise you're going to be down a pommel horse, so chill out, yeah?"

Spike paused and turned to wink at her from the safety of the cellar doorway. "Doesn't it make you scared when I'm the responsible adult?"

To Be Continued

Chapter Four

When Willow timidly announced she'd be prepared to take the potentials on a Bronze shaped outing Spike could have kissed her. The suppressed pleasure on Buffy's face alone was worth a big fat snog.

And now after weeks of cramped chaos in every room the house was unnaturally quiet. Dawn had elected for mysterious teenage rituals in the usually busy bathroom, Xander was playing sheepdog to Willow's guardian angel and Buffy had eschewed Giles and the auxiliary Scoobies in the living room in favour of a little alone time.

Spike found her on the porch, staring at her hands and looking a million miles away.

"You worrying about the upcoming apocalypse or the hormone bomb out on the town?"

Buffy turned to give him a distracted smile as he settled on the steps beside her.

"You, actually."

"Thought we agreed you don't need to worry about me?"

"Not worrying, per se. Just thinking about last year. I've got the night off, why shouldn't I think? And I should. Those who fail to learn the lessons of history, etc etc."

Despite his better intentions Spike bristled a little. "There will be no repeat of last year," he stated. "I'm different, Buffy."

"But am I?"

The question caught him by surprise.

Spike could hardly remember the pale, miserable shadow of last year, eclipsed by this vibrant new girl. No, woman.

"Brooks no comparison, love. Less of a bitch, to use your words. Happier, I'd say, feeling better about yourself. And it's good to see."

Buffy laughed, eyes dancing as she glanced at him sideways. "Oh you, you always make me feel better. Wouldn't have survived last year without you."

"Worked out nicely, then." The vampire was doing an internal Snoopy dance at her casual admission, so glad she could laugh with him now. "So why all the thinking?"

"You really have problems with that concept, don't you?" Another laugh, teasing now. "Buffy thinking, the last sign of an apocalypse."

"I've learnt to be cautious. No telling what might be going on in your head and sometimes you overestimate my powers of clairvoyance."

"It's just... I'm happier now, like you say. And I'm happy you're... well whoever you are now. I shouldn't want..."

She lowered her voice, as if making a great confession, and looked down at her shoes. "I miss it sometimes, last year. Not the feeling shitty all the time but... sometimes... Oh crap, I get on at you for the stammering and now I can't finish a sentence."

If Spike had learned one thing from her it was a little patience, so he waited silently for her to gather her thoughts.

"I'm just so fucked up," sighed Buffy eventually. "Really was all badness last year and I wasn't myself. But now, I should know better, but sometimes I remember... You know what? I think my subconscious hates me. It's evil and must be killed."

"Might get a bit messy, that."

"Full frontal lobotomy ought to do it. Ever considered trepanning?"

Spike dared a grin, but it was obvious under the joking something was nagging at her and she didn't know how to get it out.

"Everyone's fucked up, you do know that? One way or another, Slayer, everyone's confused."

"Tell that to Doctor Phil. My dreams would make his eyes pop out."

Spike couldn't help laughing now. "Sometimes, Buffy love, I don't know if you're pondering the philosophical terrors of life or worrying about a yen for rough sex."

At her guilty start he chuckled again. "Ooh, has the Slayer been having naughty thoughts?"

Buffy glared out of habit, then added a nod.

"You're a daft old bird sometimes, no point worrying about what gets you hot, is there? No-one expects you to be Julie Andrews in the privacy of your own mind."

"I left nun-like a way back, you've still got the scars."

"Wear 'em like trophies," he scoffed. "Never did anything to me I wouldn't have begged you to. You know what was wrong with last year, Slayer? Not with me, I was an arsehole and I'm working on that. But why you were so unhappy?"

"Cause I'm a sick little puppy who can't tell the difference between fighting and fucking?"

"Cause. You. Beat. Yourself. Up. You've got all the time in the world for me, and Willow, and Angel, though none of us deserve to be forgiven, but for yourself you set impossible targets of perfection."

Buffy shook her head. "I'm far from perfect. And I hurt you, whatever you might say. Don't want to do that again. Don't want to be that person again. But sometimes I see you and I do, want to do it all again."

Hmm. Spike took a moment to digest that. Seemed like anything he could say would sound like a come-on, and perhaps it wasn't a good moment to point out he wouldn't mind. "If me being around's making you... unsettled, I can buzz off. Just say the word."

"No!" Buffy elbowed him soundly and continued with some asperity. "If you're going to get all melodramatic again I'm reconsidering this conversation bullshit. I was just thinking, I do that sometimes, I'm told it's healthy. There's no big drama, just who I am, I like to understand stuff and sometimes it takes me a lot of working out."

She shot him a look that was almost pleading. "It's hard enough to share my thoughts. And I have abandonment issues, you keep offering to go away and I'm gonna think you want to."

Spike bumped her shoulder affectionately. "Now who's being melodramatic? You'd have to throw me out, we both know it."

Maybe it took a bit of getting used to, being friends, he was still adjusting to mature Buffy, who worked through issues and didn't let her problems overwhelm her. And maybe not everything could be glossed over with a new start, but God he felt close, sitting here sharing her thoughts.

Spike put his arm around her and Buffy laid her head on his shoulder.

"You're a good person, love. Seen the best and the worst of you and I should know. There's nothing wrong with what we did."

Buffy snorted. "The other day or last year?"

"Either. Both. But I was talking about last year. It's connected in your head, the sex and the misery, but if you'd done those things with someone you loved, or just for fun..."

Buffy straightened up to give him her full attention and Spike suddenly found he was getting a little tongue tied himself. "We were bad for each other, but that wasn't the sex. S'not dirty... what consenting adults do in bed... whatever the hell gets you wet, it's not wrong... S'awkward, this talking stuff, ain't it?"

Buffy seemed torn between blushing and smirking, went with both. "You were very good at the sex." She patted his knee, mostly teasing. "So wasn't the problem."

"Thank you," he growled sarcastically. "But I don't actually have performance anxiety and I was talking about you. Using sex to punish yourself, that's twisted. Doing something that makes you miserable. Being ashamed, that's what's fucked up."

"Wasn't ashamed of you," answered Buffy softly. "Just what I made you do."

"You didn't make me do anything!"

"Not made, then, encouraged. Wanted you to take me, and hurt me, taught you that when I said no, I meant make me..."

Buffy trailed off, Spike was staring at her in a way that made her almost afraid.

"If this is going where I think it's going, you can just shut your fucking mouth, young lady."

She gaped at him in amazement.

"You want to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, fine. But you can't take responsibility for what I did, what anyone does, understand?"

She shook her head. "Wasn't going there. But you did a bad thing and you're sorry, and you changed. Me, I did lots of bad things, and I want to do them again."

"Really?" Spike drawled into her ear, low and seductive. "Like what?"

"It's not funny!"

"Bloody well is. What, exactly, is it you want to do that's so bad? Phone your dad, ask if your mum only ever fancied the missionary."

He rode right through Buffy's scandalized gasp, warming to his subject. "Do you know Willow and Tara kept a strap on under the bed? Size of it made me envious. Giles has a stash of specialist magazines that are illegal in California. Hell, even Dawnie-"

"Stop right there!" Buffy squeaked. "I never want to know the end of that sentence."

But Spike wasn't to be stopped.

"Giles and your Mum did it on the bonnet of a police car, just for the thrill of maybe being caught."

"They were under a spell!"

"To make them feel young. You're already young. You're allowed to be irresponsible, expected to make the occasional bad choice, and you're supposed to cut loose and have a little fun. If your idea of fun leaves bruises, well that's between you and whoever you're having fun with. Believe me, there's no higher power that cares if you like a bit of S&M. Come to England, it's virtually a way of life. Hell, go to Germany, see what they sell on the high streets and then tell me you're peculiar.

"S'got nothing to do with being the Slayer, not really, 'cept you can give more and take more. And sure you have to be careful cause you can hurt where another girl wouldn't leave a mark, but all men live with that. You shouldn't ever be ashamed of what you want, everyone's got their own dirty secret, nine times out of ten it's the ones who bottle it up who turn out to be a menace to society. It can only be wrong if you're willing to hurt people to get what you want and I know you better than that.

"I knew you didn't want me and I tried to take you anyway and nothing you did can excuse that. Nothing you did should be compared 'cause I always wanted you, enjoyed every second and you know it, only hurt when you didn't want me and that's not your fault, just the way of the world. You're just... normal. If you'd ever had a chance to leave this suburban hell hole and see a bit of real life you'd have found all this out for yourself. You're never alone, s'why talking so important. And I've been doing that a while, shutting up now.

"Your mouth is open, by the way."

Buffy closed her jaws with a snap that echoed round the now silent garden.

"Pervert," she said eventually.

"Necrophiliac," he shot back.

Buffy laughed, she couldn't help it. "Got me there. You realise we've been talking about sex for, like, ten minutes and you haven't hit on me once? What's up with that?"

Spike eyed her warily, be easier if she told him what the right answer was before asking questions like that. "It's not a trick question," she added, with unnerving perception. "I'm just wondering."

"Didn't think you'd want me to."

"Were you having a different conversation to the one I was having?"

He cocked his head on one side, regarded her thoughtfully. "What does that mean, Buffy?"

The Slayer wriggled a little, caught in his piercing gaze. "That sounds like a serious question. I'm kinda all serioused out, you mentioned something about fun?"

"Um I did?" Spike stalled, tried to recall the exact words of his impassioned rant. "And serioused? Can't let that one go."

Buffy met his eye, and he could see she was trying not to smile at his uncertainty. "Not S&M fun, just cutting loose. What do young people do? And it's so very sad I have to ask that question."

"Drink lots and listen to really bad music," answered Spike promptly. "Then gyrate around in a ridiculous parody of dancing until they're sick on their ridiculously expensive shoes."

"Hmm. Think I've passed young. What do slightly older people do?"

"Better music, less vomiting."

"Right." Buffy used Spike's shoulder to lever herself to her feet and dusted down her jeans. "Give me a couple of hours to get Dawn out of the bathroom. If you fancy it, that is."

Spike shrugged, tried very hard to stay casual. "Would have gone with the S&M myself, but I'll deal."

********

When Buffy reappeared a mere 45 minutes later it was with a much made up Dawn, towering over her sister in a pair of borrowed heels.

Off Spike's look the Slayer shrugged and explained.

"We're gonna sneak her into the new bar down town, really living dangerously tonight. Anya's going to join us when she's done in the shower. I told Andrew he couldn't come, just to prove I'm still sane."

Spike fought down uncharitable disappointment that he wasn't getting her all to himself, and gave Dawn his best evil grin. "Come on, then, let's go and corrupt the minor."

And it was impossible to feel hard done by as she took his arm walking down the front path, done up to the nines and positively glowing. And relaxed, for all that she was still Buffy and still had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was carrying it better.

"If you two are gonna make with the PDA's I'm calling social services," said Dawn tartly.

Buffy laughed, leaned into Spike with a suggestiveness purely for show as she turned round to answer. The vampire shivered against her, hard in seconds.

"You just wait, missy. I'm gonna dance, embarrassingly and enthusiastically. Then I'm gonna get drunk and tell all your potential dates cutsie baby stories. Then I'm gonna let Spike threaten to rip their arms off and you're gonna wish I was just snogging him in a corner somewhere."

"Snogging? God! Buffy, you need therapy."

But the Slayer just laughed again. "This is therapy. Grown-up, alcoholic, dancing therapy. You wanted to come."

"Fine," Dawn snapped, marching past Spike and Buffy with a disdainful toss of her head. "But you'd better be sharing that alcohol. Passing out sounds good right about now."

Buffy followed, tugging a dazed Spike in her wake.

Snogging? Suddenly Spike was convinced this was a really bad idea. If one casual touch and the merest suggestion of a kiss left his thought process in tatters, how the hell was he to survive watching her dance?

"PDA's?" he asked quietly.

"Public displays of affection."

"Like... holding hands?" Spike suggested.

To be continued....



And can I make a request? If you feel moved to comment, say something mean. Everyone's been really nice, maybe it's an American thing, and it's toe curlingly good to read that people have enjoyed my fiction enough to comment and say so. But without critisism my learning curve is going to be a horizontal line.

Chapter Five

Buffy was following through on her threat to Dawn to the letter, pogoing with tipsy enthusiasm next to her slightly alarmed sister. Dawn had wisely refrained from dancing with any one boy, so there'd been no-one for Buffy to regale with tales of youthful misadventure, but Spike had watched from the bar as she'd deflected a few eager suitors of her own.

Anya flopped with theatrical exhaustion onto the bar stool next to him. "You may have had the right idea with the sitting down and glaring. That Slayer Stamina is no joke."

Spike agreed with alacrity and Anya rolled her eyes at the slightly glazed expression.

"Just so you know, I do not want to know the details of what you are thinking."

When the energetic *Modern band* song ended, Dawn and Buffy threaded their way through the crowd to join the wallflowers.

"Dawn says if I make her dance anymore she's gonna pass out," Buffy whined with a pout, taking Spike's hand. "It's time you strutted your funky stuff, mister."

Already uncomfortable in his jeans, and trying to remind himself why it was such a bad idea for him to be here, the vampire previcated. "Give me a couple more beers, would you pet? Was enjoying the spectacle over here."

The pout grew more calculating, Buffy added an eyelash flutter. "I'll have to find someone else to make a spectacle with, then," she threatened suggestively.

Spike knew when he was beat. Off his stool and leading her toward the pulsing throng with a possessive growl and no further argument. There was a tiny, masculine part of Spike that wanted to complain about this blatant manipulation but the larger part was too surprised at seeing his Slayer being a girly girl to say a word. And when she pulled him round to face her, slipped her arms round his neck, he forgot all protests.

Spike could dance, in a swaying, sexy, getting down and dirty without getting undressed way, or in a formal 19th Century way-hell, in over a century he'd even picked up a little Salsa. But this breathless modern bouncing was more to be enjoyed by men than participated in, he'd long since decided; and he was content to mostly stand there as Buffy writhed and jiggled in front of him.

When the tempo changed she looked at him in what he assumed must be an invitation, certainly she relaxed into him happily enough when he wrapped his arms around her.

Buffy was glowing with exertion, the scent of sweat creeping under the flowery perfume she wore and having a visceral affect on the vampire. Spike may have been reborn with the manners and emotions of a gentleman but his nose was a finely tuned instrument that reacted on instinct, and he nuzzled at her hair to get a better whiff.

"You sure about this?" he pulled it together enough to whisper. "You know little sis will be telling tales on you when you get her home?"

"I don't exactly live with my parents anymore," said Buffy without moving an inch from her comfortable spot on the curve of Spike's shoulder.

"No. Just your watcher who wants me dead, your friends who hate me and a dozen teenage girls you're supposed to be setting an example to."

"Shut up, Spike, you're ruining the moment."

"We're having a moment?"

"Yes," said Buffy firmly. She burrowed further into Spike's collar and sighed. "Willow doesn't hate you," she offered after a long pause, he barely heard her over the relentlessly cheerful background music.

"That's reassuring."

"I'll blackmail Dawn into silence. She totally snuck the last of the fudge ice-cream yesterday."

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Spike neutrally, though truth be told her words brought him down to earth a little.

"I don't want to hurt you again," said Buffy quietly, and Spike pulled back in surprise at this non sequitur.

"Shame," he said lightly, waggling an eyebrow. "You make it hurt real nice."

Buffy just met his gaze, calmly demanding a serious response and the vampire sighed. "World's ending soon, let’s take what fun we can get, yeah?" His hands tightened around her slim waist and he steered them both out into the centre of the dance floor. "I'm a big boy, Slayer, can take my own risks. And if you're not worrying about tomorrow, well I'm just fine with that."

********
"Do you think they're doing it under that coat?"

Dawn gave Anya a disgusted look. "No!"

"They could be, you know. In those ridiculous sandals, Buffy's as tall as Spike. Do you think that's why she wore them? They don't go with that skirt. And behind that leather he could slip it in-"

Dawn covered her ears with a squeal. "I'm gonna tell Buffy you're warping my fragile little mind."

Anya shrugged. "Because that's what she's worrying about right now, your delicate teenage sensibilities. While her evil vampire boy toy is giving-"

"Anya!"

"Fine." The former demon turned to the bar to order herself another cocktail. "They're just dancing. Really close, rubbing together-"

"He's not evil," groused Dawn, intent on interrupting Anya's pornographic daydream.

"Oh? I thought you still hated him?"

"Well yeah, but only cause he's a jerk."

********

When the song ended they both forgot to let go. Spike looked down and Buffy was smiling at him, her head tilted at just the right angle for a kiss.

Spike gulped and suddenly pulled away from her. "More beer," he gasped. "That is, I need a refill. More... um... water, Slayer?"

Buffy's smile spread to a grin, Spike presumed at his social ineptness. "What's that stuff they put into tiny little glasses and then set fire to?" she asked. "I always thought that was kinda neat."

"Nuh-uh. I've seen you shitfaced little girl, no Sambuca for you."

He was met with a Slayer look, one that meant business, and Spike threw in the towel without even token resistance. "Fine. Flaming liquor delivered by your flammable vampire, check. But I'm warning you now, get drunk and I will take advantage of you."

He stomped off back towards Dawn and Anya at the bar. "Promises, promises," Buffy called after him.

********

The vampire was trying to catch the barman's eye and simultaneously ignore Dawn's request for 'whatever my degenerate sister's having' when Buffy caught up with him. She attracted the bartender’s attention in a way Spike's gesturing had not, and he appeared immediately to take their order.

The vampire felt as if he was watching through a window as the sisters argued, for the most part good-naturedly, over what Dawn could or could not drink. It was impossible to credit how much the teen had grown up in the year or so he'd not been looking, a century plus of not aging and he'd forgotten how quickly time passed for humans. The conversation moved on to drunken young stars and Britney Spears and Spike tuned it out altogether. Nursed his beer and watched how the two girls sparkled, one almost a woman and the other looking younger than she'd seemed for years, it was a beautiful sight. Bittersweet too, reminding the vampire of how far he was from the world they should be living in.

It was almost a relief when Buffy dragged him back into the drunken dancing masses, though not for long, as she seemed determined to drive him insane tonight and he didn't know how much of it was deliberate. Knew even tipsy she couldn't be oblivious to the effect she was having, as she shimmied her pert little bottom against his obvious erection, and Spike struggled to keep his hands over her clothing.

"Are you trying to torture me, Sweetheart?" Spike asked with a groan, "Or is all this grinding leading to something?"

Buffy whirled in his arms, and there was a world of communication in her look. "I hear there's a lovely view from the terrace," was her subdued answer.

Without a word Spike yanked her through the patio doors.

********

The kiss was desperate and hungry, like the first they'd shared. Going at it like they could swallow each other whole, bodies barely touching as their tongues duelled.

Spike could feel himself getting lost in her. All his mental promises of restraint went out the window, till all he knew was need, hands fisted at his sides to restrain himself from ripping her clothes off and taking her right there on the patio. Neither of them noticed their audience.

"Oh. My. God. You're, like, totally having sex with your mouths. That's just disgusting."

And didn't little sis have a knack for spoiling his precious moments nowadays? The only consolation was Buffy seemed right there with him, leaning her forehead against his as she clutched his shoulders.

"Did you want something?" she asked Dawn faintly.

"Just to let you know, Anya's driving me home. You can carry on with the PG porn and not worry about my fragile little mind. And if you still care? Half the club can see you, if there's gonna be nudity, you'd better hide in the bushes."

"Dawnie-"

"Don't bother, I'm good. But we are so gonna renegotiate that no dating rule tomorrow."

She left the patio and Buffy sagged against Spike with relief. "Oh, my God." She echoed Dawn's opening gambit.

Spike wrapped his arms around her anxiously. "Sorry love, should have heard her coming. Got a bit carried away."

"No." Buffy shook her head emphatically. "Just Oh. My. God. That was one hell of a kiss."

The vampire pulled back in surprise, seeing her mirror the slow grin that spread across his face.

"You don't know what you do to me, evil wench."

Buffy twinkled at him. "I've got an idea," she murmured, pulling him closer until she could feel the effect up close and personal. "If it makes you feel any better I think I'm old enough to give it up on a first date."

Spike's eyes widened. "Is that what we're doing now? Dating?"

"You think Dawn being here disqualifies it? And no flowers. You're totally right, I'm not putting out without flowers and dinner."

"Oh shut up."

He enforced this order by bending his head to kiss her again, this time even more thoroughly. This time bodies met, hands grasping, and Buffy was only half aware as Spike lifted her up and carried her off the patio. When he released her mouth and she bothered to pay attention again they were far away from the crowd outside the club and Spike was grinning at her smugly.

"All alone, Slayer. Whatcha gonna do now?"

"Pass out?" she offered weakly.

"Don't think so, love. Not so much fun if you're unconscious."

"Spiiike!"

The vampire lifted her against a tree, kissing her forcefully as his hands roamed under flimsy dance clothing. "Don't tell me we can't, Buffy love. Know what you need, my dirty little girl, you've been seducing me all night. Time to pay the piper."

Buffy leant her forehead on Spike's shoulder, wrapping her legs round his waist. "What, exactly, does the piper want?"

"Want you, you little minx," he growled into her hair. "Want to give you what you need, make you scream. Want this too, don't you?"

"God yes!" Buffy yelped as Spike snapped the waistband of her thong. "You always know what I want."

With little preamble he was thrusting his hand inside her. Buffy clung to his shoulders desperately, weight braced against the tree.

"That's right, darling. I know your every fantasy. Know what you dream of doing when you touch yourself in the night, know exactly how to make you moan and shiver. I remember exactly what you like. Is this what you missed, love? Cause I missed it too, the feel of you, all warmth and passion."

Buffy began to lose the sense of his words, blurred into one continuous sexy growl by the blood pounding in her ears. And God that Sambuca must be good stuff; she was coming already, helplessly biting down on Spike's collar to muffle her cries. He held her up as her body quaked against his and Buffy melted against him as the aftershocks subsided. "Oh yes," she breathed, voice muffled by the leather of his coat. "Missed this, missed you..."

"Should we... stop now?" Spike asked uncertainly.

Buffy's head shot up and she gave him an incredulous look. Still inside her, he looked a tad embarrassed.

"It's just that I have, on occasion, been known to think with my dick and Little Spike's not all that bright, even as penises go."

Buffy laughed, changed it to a gasp as he eased his fingers from her and pressed down on her clit. "Guess with all that thinking, you're too busy to... umm..."

"Shag you senseless? I could probably make time. If you wanted?"

There was something more serious in his eyes than lust and Buffy suspected they were talking about more than a quickie in the bushes, but her whole body was buzzing and she didn't care.

"Please Spike..."

"Please what?"

His voice was teasing but she knew how much he needed to hear the words, needed to be sure.

"Want you inside me, want you with me. Is that enough?"

"It's enough," he whispered, grinding against her as her hands searched for his zipper. "You're irresistible. God I love you, Buffy."

Deer-in-headlights eyes met his and her hand froze half inside his jeans. Impatiently the vampire pulled himself out and wrapped her fingers round his cock.

"Gotta say it," he breathed. "Feel it so much, it's got to come out. Doesn't matter that you don't-"

She silenced him then, lips on his and tongue plunging hungrily into his mouth as she lowered herself onto him, saying more with a kiss than she knew how to with words. It was enough.

********

Spike stretched out on the grass, well shagged and relaxed. His hand found hers and squeezed it lightly.

"So this is like... a first date?" he teased.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Would you rather count the time you chained me up in your crypt and offered to stake your skanky ex for me?"

The vampire grinned, unrepentant. "Knew I should have gone with flowers."

"You are such an idiot."

"Was," Spike corrected serenely. "I was such an idiot. Reformed now, don't forget."

"Oh yeah. Now the soul's made you all sensible. Wait... No...."

"Fine. I'm stupid. But good with my tongue, remember?"

"Mmm, I remember." The Slayer propped herself up on one elbow and leant over for a demonstration, but Spike wriggled away and hauled her to her feet. "Home time for you, my tipsy one."

Buffy followed, grumbling, through the undergrowth and out onto the pavement, hastily trying to repair her clothing as Spike strode across the road and into the graveyard that was between them and home. Still a little shaky on her heels, Buffy had to run to catch up with him, finally catching his elbow to pull him around for another kiss.

"Dammit girl, tryin' to walk here," he groaned as she shimmied against him.

With considerable effort, Spike pushed her away. Buffy pouted prettily and turned to stalk off. "What happened to 'you're irresistible?'"

Spike caught her from behind with a laugh. "And you know it. But I wanna get you home, do this proper, kiss you all over in your own bed." He rubbed himself sensuously against her back as he spoke and was dismayed when she froze.

And bloody hell, he should have known better. One thing to fuck against a tree, but talk of a little foreplay still stopped her in her tracks. "Or not," he added, trying hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice because he'd promised it was enough.

Buffy turned around and poked him in the stomach, pouting again. "I'm the one that worries too much? Don't do that, okay?"

"Don't do what? Give you a cuddle?"

"Think!" Buffy accused playfully. "I can virtually hear the little voices in your head, telling you to brace for impact."

Spike smiled ruefully. "It's a fair cop. But it was my turn."

"It's just... I kind of like my room."

"Your private space, I get it."

"No! No and no. Furniture, load bearing walls. The kind of thing that tends to get damaged when we... y'know."

"Oh."

"And even if I was ready to come out, that doesn't mean I want an audience when we... um..." She leaned into him for a brief but passionate kiss. "I want you," she continued huskily. "All naked, in my bed, with the kissing and the touching. But we really can't demolish another house, okay? Especially not mine, so we're going to have to be a bit restrained when we... do that. And you have the strangest effect on me - I just want to make lots of loud noises which might seriously wig out the others."

"Well in that case..." Spike paused dramatically. "I'll just have to gag you."

And he was off, racing for home, chased by a laughing Slayer.

********
When they got back to the house, Willow was sitting on the front steps. "We've got a new potential, dead, and a new bad guy," she said sombrely. "Something's gone down in LA; they need a witch on hand so I'm driving down. Giles wants to talk to you; he doesn't think it was bringers that killed this girl. He's in the kitchen."

With a quick glance at Spike, Buffy was disappearing into the house, and just like that their night off was over.

End of chapter five.

As ever I like my feedback spiced with criticism.

Chapter Six

When Buffy got back from the hospital she was beyond tired. She'd learned nothing except what Giles had already told her from the mortuary attendant, only the file she'd managed to lift stopped it being a complete waste of a trip. The unknown girl had been brought in to the hospital barely conscious, most of her blood left behind on the coast road, insistently asking for Buffy Summers. In an effort to calm the girl and get her stable enough to operate, the hospital had looked Buffy up in the phonebook and, Buffy being absent at the time, Giles had sent Kennedy to play her part. The girl had told a confused tale of escaping from hooded figures only to run into a far more human looking menace, dressed as a priest, who'd ripped through her intestines with a knife and left a message for the original Slayer. Her medical records detailed the complications during surgery that were mostly so much medical jargon to Buffy and the end result she already knew; there was one potential less in the world. But there were two clear photos of the burn mark on her neck, which would do for Giles, and meant Buffy wouldn't have to break into another cold room to look at another cold body.

She hid the file in her clothing then it was on to the police station for a compulsory statement. No surprises there; Sunnydale's finest were only going through the motions, ticking boxes, woodenly accepted her statement that she knew nothing of the girl, filed it away.

Spike was waiting outside when she returned, but Buffy brushed past him with a muttered 'later', and went straight to the kitchen for a watcherly update

********

There was something insufferably smug about Giles tonight, at least it seemed so to Buffy. His whole being seemed to radiate 'I told you so's' in a way that prickled at Buffy's conscience and put her back up all at the same time. A part of the Slayer still wished she'd thrown Giles out of the house. She'd understood all too well his motives for wanting Spike out of the picture, both the ones he acknowledged and the ones he didn't, but forgiveness wasn't coming easy. Maybe because he showed not the slightest remorse. But throwing him out in Sunnydale equated to feeding him to the bringers, and that was harsher that Buffy was willing to go, even if she wasn't forced to admit they needed Giles on the team

She slapped the stolen file on the table.

"I got the photos. You were right about the mark, it doesn't look like any signet ring I've ever seen. So we figure this jerk's got another girl, right?"

It was all business Buffy and she hoped the watcher would pick up on her mood, but as he sighed and removed his glasses she could sense the lecture coming. Buffy wasn't sure she could listen without violence.

"So are you convinced yet of the seriousness of the impending apocalypse?"

Condescending, that was the word. As if he was still the only grown-up. The Slayer gritted her teeth, opened the file and took out the photos of the dead girl's neck. "I'm taking it seriously, Giles. See me planning?"

"After taking the night off to cavort with your tame vampire?"

And that was why Giles always won the arguments; he could hit her on so many levels at once she didn't even know where to start with the disagreeing. The description of Spike as her tame vampire rankled, and the way he managed to make 'taking the night off' sound like 'eating new born babies for fun.' As for cavorting... Well it was none of his damn business if there was cavorting or not.

"Half the night," she said mulishly. "I took half the night off, seeing as it's still dark and here I am working again. Some people, grown-ups even, have whole days. Weekends. I've heard rumours of these things called vacations where people do whatever they feel like for weeks at a time."

"Those people are not responsible for the safety of nearly twenty minors and the whole world."

"That's not fair, Giles." And could she sound any more like a twelve year old? But it really wasn't fair. It wasn't even her idea. "And I'm somehow forgetting the part where you said 'No, Buffy, you shouldn't take the night off.'"

"I thought a rest would help you think more clearly, that you might benefit from some reflection. I-"

"I reflected! I benefited! So I'm thinking the real problem here isn't that I took time off, it's with whom I chose to spend it."

"No! The problem here is while you were indulging that waste of space a girl was being butchered."

It was a low blow and part of Buffy knew it, but that didn't make it any less true. The butchered part. "So I'll kill the thing that killed her," she answered, with a monumental effort of sticking to the point. "Do you know what it is?"

"All my information is second hand, maybe we should get Kennedy in-"

"No!" As much as she liked to deal herself blame, even Buffy couldn't believe she deserved a dose of Kennedy after everything else tonight. "Just... tell me what you know."

"Very little, really. The dead girl described him as a human man, a priest or dressed as a priest, in his mid-thirties. She also said he was very strong, although it's possible that was nothing more than human strength overpowering a frightened girl. He called the harbingers 'his boys' and he seemed very keen to get your attention, the girl said he had something that belonged to you-"

"I got that bit. And he has my attention. So we hand over sharp pointy things to the potentials and go on a little field trip to kill a priest."

"Possibly doing exactly what he wants."

"He won't be expecting a full scale assault, not this quickly. It'll be our one chance to catch him by surprise."

"Possibly," Giles repeated. "But I hardly think we're ready for action. Some of the potentials have yet to stake a vamp, they're not ready to face an unknown threat. And do you have any idea of what's going on in LA at the moment?"

"No. I was taking the night off, remember? So do tell."

"I hardly have all the details myself, and I won't until Willow calls. I do know that while she's gone she can hardly assist in keeping these girls safe. This is a completely unknown threat, Buffy, and I can find no reference in these books-"

"Well you carry on looking then. I'll speak to the girls, see who wants to kick some preacher ass while you're researching his mother's maiden name."

"Buffy..."

But in a fit of childish temper the Slayer kicked the door shut behind her.

********

The Slayer was still fuming when Spike intercepted her in the hallway. He could hear it in the angry stomp of her black boots as she tried to walk straight past him.

"How you holding up, love?"

"I'll survive. But busy, okay?"

She made to brush past him into the living room, the vampire caught her arm. "Spare five minutes, surely?" he asked mildly.

"I can't. I don't have time for this."

Again she tried to pull away, Spike held firm. Buffy didn't even look at him, head down and shoulders set as if she could plough him out of her path, closed off in a way that was frighteningly familiar. "We really back to playing that game?" he asked incredulously.

"Games with you probably cost that girl her life," she spat icily. "Now let go of me."

"No," said Spike patiently. "I just want-"

Buffy twisted away with more violence, intent on her briefing with the potentials, but in the short scuffle that followed it was the Slayer that ended up pinned to the wall. She glared at Spike, more than a little pissed off but, he was relieved to note, unafraid.

"Don't," she said coldly. "Not now."

"Wasn't going to," he insisted. "Just talk to me, Buffy."

"No."

"You mean later?"

"You really have problems with that word, don't you? You think holding me down is a good way to open communication?"

Spike eyed her reprovingly. "One, that was beneath you. Two, sometimes holding you down is the only way to open communication with you. That's your damage, Summers, not mine. Just... trust me, love. Let me in, Buffy."

"This isn't about you. I need to be focused, you're a distraction."

"I can focus too! I'm not trying to cop a feel here, Buffy, I just don't want you shutting me out."

"Put. Me. Down."

"Fine." Getting angry in turn, Spike released her so suddenly she slid down the wall. "But you're going to hear me out, 'cause your furniture won't stand another fight. That girl didn't die because you were fucking against a tree, she died because the source of all evil is trying to take over the world. And being ashamed of me now won't bring her back. I don't want to be a distraction, I want to help, and if I'd known you were going to beat yourself up this way I never would have touched you."

Buffy stared for a second and then her mouth twitched up. "I forgot. You're now the sensible one in this relationship."

Spike smiled back, though he could see she was still far from happy. Maybe now wouldn't be a good time to point out her casual use of the R word. "Well, pay me more heed next time."

Instead of the punch he was still half expecting, Buffy took his hand. "I'm not ashamed of you," she said with a quick squeeze, but quickly as she pulled him close she was pulling away, running a distracted hand through already messy hair. "There just... there's stuff to be done. I should have been out there tonight, but I wanted... It's not your fault-"

"No," interrupted Spike solemnly, "it's yours. Powers that be spotted you were taking the night off so they decided to throw their lot in with ultimate evil and strike down a few innocent girls to teach you a lesson. It's all your fault. So quick, push Spike away and go haring off after something that might be nothing without so much as sharing the plan with the best fighter you've got. Maybe that'll earn you your karmic brownie points back."

Buffy smacked him lightly on the arm. "I'm sorry, okay? You're gonna burst a blood vessel with all that irony."

"Was sarcasm. And it's not my fault you're stupid and need these things explaining to you. What about those two vamps you staked on the way to the club, eh? They'd've taken dinner home if you'd been off saving that potential. The potential you didn't even know existed. And if you're gonna tell me we're friends then brush me off when you've got other things on your mind I'm going to take issue. Sometimes I have whole thoughts that aren't about getting in your knickers, y'know."

"I do know," said Buffy with a sigh. Then she brightened. "Hey, you're being all Spikey again."

He stared back suspiciously. "I'm what now?"

"You know. All 'I'm a bad-ass, got my rocks back' kinda Spike. The annoying one."

"Sorry pet, guess it's not so easy to change-"

"No... No, it's good. I missed the annoying, in this weird way. You know I'm not going to change either, don't you?"

Spike looked up in surprise. "Bloody well hope not."

"That's not true though. This stuff... I'm sorry I shut you out, and I'll try not to be so... But in the end, this is how I deal. I shut myself off because sometimes it's the only way to deal, that's always going to be me."

"And it's always going to be me pushing, doesn't mean I'd wish you different. But I do hate the way you blame yourself. It wasn't your fault."

"But it was! Those girls are going to keep on dying and it's always going to be my fault because it's my job to keep everyone safe."

"That's an impossible job, love."

"Do you think I don't know that?"

For possibly the first time, Spike realised that no amount of loving in the world could lighten that load. That, help as much as he might, he could never lift even an iota of the responsibility from her shoulders. It was a sobering thought for a vampire whose one goal was to make his girl happy. Not that sheer impossibility had ever daunted Spike before.

"Come on," said the Slayer, jolting Spike out of his musings. "I want to talk to the potentials while Giles is still hiding in the kitchen."

"Talk to them about a plan?"

"Kind of. Not so much. I was going to take some of them with me, to kill this preacher-man. Just the volunteers."

"You know Willow's already gone, don't you?"

Her mouth hardened into a thin, unhappy line and she nodded.

"And if it's the old bait and switch?"

She sighed again, still holding herself aloof. "That's pretty much what Giles said."

"Well he might not be wrong. No point getting whatever this new guy has if you come back to a house full of dead potentials."

"Then I leave you here. I think I can manage an itsy bitsy priest and a hologram all on my own."

"I couldn't manage a Turok-han."

She looked dismayed and Spike hated to be the one to put the brakes on her obvious need for action, but he had to go on. Couldn't bear the thought of letting her down and he knew his own limits. "Maybe one, if the rabble weighed in in a useful way. But you just know there's more of those buggers waiting to crawl out of the woodwork. We get two of them calling while you're gone, you're going to come home to a massacre."

"There's a whole army of them coming."

"I get that, love. And if you want to take the risk you know I'll follow your lead. I ain't afraid, and I ain't complaining. I'd die for you, and do it happily, but no amount of willing is going to make me stronger."

There was a definite crack in that hard shell now and Spike didn't know whether to be glad or sorry. "But I need to kill something!" Buffy whined. Tentatively Spike held his arms out and Buffy leaned gratefully into his embrace. "So what do you propose I do, oh wise and mighty man-type person?"

Spike smiled into her hair. "Sit tight, love. Wait for the witch to come back."

"You think we should do nothing?"

"That's what I said. Get your strongest fighters around you, let the old man do the research bit, then worry about this little upstart. Have a night playing scrabble, let Rupert do the worrying for a change."

"You realise his first act as leader would be to stake you?"

"And I'm just trembling in fear."

Buffy breathed deep into his collar, as if she could soak up enough support to see her through before she inevitably disentangled herself. "And you're sure this plan has nothing to do with staying home and getting some?"

"No! Buffy, I wouldn't-"

But the Slayer was smiling. Watery, but definitely a smile, she interrupted him with a wave of her hand. "Joke, Spike. And it's an upside, right? So you go and play scrabble, and I'll tell Giles the new non-plan."

********

It was only as he wandered back into the living room, noticed the scattered sleeping bags, that Spike realised the night was almost over. Not that four a.m. was taking a toll on the assorted teenagers, they were clustered around Anya partaking in that age old and terrifying ritual - girl talk. And boy did Spike not want to stay and hear it, but neither did he want to go elsewhere and hear Buffy and her watcher. It was a mere two minutes since she'd disappeared into the kitchen and the raised voices told Spike he didn't want to know the details.

And it seemed he was to be included in the girl talk, he caught the word vampire from Anya's monologue and several curious pairs of eyes swivelled in his direction.

"...prefer conventional pairings, really quite unadventurous compared to vengeance demons-"

"Hey!" Spike may have been sharing lodgings with an all-girl pyjama party but he had enough male pride left to put his foot down there. "I'm adventurous - you take that back. Done things I'll bet you can't bloody well spell."

"I was referring to the vampiric preference for humanoid partners," answered Anya haughtily. "And I've always considered that a strange boast. Spelling is hardly a required skill for sex. Can you spell fellatio, for instance? That's a fairly socially acceptable form of intercourse but quite an unusual word to see in print."

Spike caught sight of Buffy in the doorway, flushed and angry. He virtually cringed as Dawn picked that moment to join in the conversation, oblivious to her sister's presence.

"I can't even spell blow-job," said the teen. "I mean, is it all one word, or does it have one of those apostrophe thingies?"

"Hyphen," put in another potential. "I think it has a hyphen."

"And a big who cares from the lesbian contingent," put in Kennedy, flashing her tongue piercing in a pointed way. "Those are all fancy ways of saying 'female emancipation'."

"Now there's something I can't spell," put in Spike, hoping to steer things back onto safer ground for their unnoticed audience. It didn't work.

"Anya's right, nobody cares about spelling," said another potential, one of the later arrivals that Spike had yet to put a name to. "If you look on the web, it's like, anything goes. No punctuation or nothing."

All too soon the pyjama clad underage girls were discussing the standards of modern pornography. Distinctly paler, Buffy disappeared from the doorway and into the basement. Spike stood through a few more minutes of risqué chatter before quietly following. When he slid through the basement door Buffy was leaning against the banister at the top of the stairs. She turned when he came in, gave Spike a slight smile that left him relieved.

"Hiding out?"

Buffy nodded. "Anya's like soy sauce, y'know?"

"That's putting it kindly. I'm sorry if-"

"No." Buffy spoke quietly but her voice was firm. "Don't do that. There's no reason they shouldn't. No reason you shouldn't. I was just pissed at Giles, he... he..."

"Pissed you off?"

"That's pretty much it. You were right, we could all use the time off. Besides, it was kinda funny."

Spike didn't want to ask what Giles had said. He'd already caught the loud highlights of the first go round and he could imagine the rematch. Sacred duty, blah blah, stake Spike, blah blah, fun is evil, polish glasses. Sometimes it got very hard living in a house where everybody hated you. And in the main part Spike couldn't give a fig for the opinions of others; he could only imagine what all this conflict must mean to Buffy. Even before their personal relationship had become fresh gossip again, she'd been coming in for more than her fair share of hatred really meant for him. And they were her friends, her confidants, he knew she couldn't dismiss their disapproval as easily as he did.

He wasn't sure if now was the time to be the stoical second in command or comforting lover. The thing between them was too new for him to feel comfortable.

"It's a nice word, don't you think?"

For once not following the train of her thoughts, the question caught Spike by surprise. "What word are we talking about here?"

"Fellatio. It's all... Italian and... rolling"

The vampire raised a slightly sceptical eyebrow, but as ever he was happy to follow her lead. "Sure, love, very... Italian. Not so good as a verb, though. 'Will you felate me?' ain't never going to be the sexy chat-up line of 'get on your knees, gorgeous.'"

Buffy took a step towards him, something predatory about the slow move. "Say that again."

The eyebrow climbed a good half inch higher. "Get on your knees, gorgeous."

She grabbed his hips, slamming him back against the basement door as she dropped before him. Despite the suggestion lacing her voice Spike was taken by surprise.

"Buffy, love..."

"Don't, okay? This is going to be the last calm before the storm, isn't it? A day or two of battening down the hatches before Willow comes home and Giles does the research and we have to make with the do or die action." Her hands were running over the crotch of his jeans, eyes level with the growing bulge under the thick material.

"So you're going to spend that time sucking my cock?"

"Maybe not all of it. My knees would get achy."

He laughed, a sound she interrupted with the shift of his zipper. Sometimes Spike didn't think he'd ever truly understand this girl. He wasn't complaining.

"It's coming soon, I can feel it. And one of us is bound to die because I'd just be way too happy otherwise and the Powers That Be can't be having that. I don't want regrets. And I've never... not really. Not for you."

She ran her tongue over the head of his freed erection and Spike gasped, eyes fluttering closed. "That is," Buffy added, "If it's okay with you?" His eyes opened again to see that little girl pout, eyes glittering wickedly behind.

"No," he deadpanned. "You've found the one male in every known universe that doesn't like getting h- Oh yeah... that. Don't like that..."

But Buffy was beyond the talking stage, her lips firmly wrapped around his throbbing cock.

"Lucky the Powers That Be don't give a piss about me being happy. You'd be getting struck by lightning right about now."

********

When he spent himself in her mouth, Spike felt spent entirely. Buffy tucked him back in and he sank to the floor beside her, pulling her into his lap for a cuddle while he recovered. She burrowed against his chest like a cat.

"Your turn now. Cheer me up."

His hand slipped under her T-shirt but she caught it without even lifting her head. "I didn't mean... That part comes when I'm cheerful already, y'know? Just... tell me a joke or something. An amusing anecdote."

"A joke?"

"Yeah."

Spike thought a while, stroking her hair absently.

"Until last night, I was a virgin."

"Huh?"

"First shag for my soul."

"But... You mean since you died?"

"Nope."

"You died a virgin?"

"Yup."

"You didn't have sex your whole life?"

"That's what the word generally means, yes Slayer."

"My God." She craned her neck to examine his face more closely. "You weren't exactly under 21 when you died, were you?"

"Wasn't exactly under 31."

"My god," she repeated with a giggle. "Doesn't sound like it was much fun being Victorian."

"I may have been more backward than most," Spike admitted.

Buffy curled her fingers round the nape of his neck and pulled him down for a gentle kiss. "So I'm your first? That's so sweet."

It wasn't a word Spike thought might ever be applied to himself, except perhaps by Harmony, but he decided he could live with it.

"Okay, I'm all cheered up now, you can start with the touching." In one smooth movement Spike was on his feet and carrying her down the stairs, intent on the cot bed against the wall. Buffy gave him another kiss and an impish grin. "Guess you've got a lot of catching up to do, huh?"