William “Spike” Giles was not in the best of moods. He’d had a crap day and his night was turning out to be worse. All day he’d had to deal with punks and thugs, and he couldn’t wait for his shift to be over. Being a cop in Sunnydale, California on days like this did not have its perks. Working on his paperwork – something he hated more than anything – he glanced over at the calendar hanging on the bulletin board. It was hanging on by a thread, the tack slowly giving way. He wondered why he didn’t just go over and press the tack back in, thus righting the calendar. It’d be so easy. But he was lazy; which was laughable considering the grueling hours he worked.

His blue eyes squinted, focusing narrowly on the date. Full Moon. No wonder the day blew. Sighing he typed up the last of his daily log and was about to print it out and hand it in, when a commotion at the front door drew his attention away. Several of his colleagues were ushering in a woman, a tiny woman it appeared, huddled in a gray wool blanket, her head down and her golden hair wet. Curious, he stood to find out what the commotion was all about.

“What’s this about?” he asked Riley Finn, who had been one of the cops following her in. He couldn’t stand Finn most days, mostly because the man just had to know everything about everyone and seemed to have his hand in a little bit of everything; but if it meant he could get information, Spike would play nice.

Finn sighed and ran a large hand through his moppy brown hair. “Remember that case with the girl who witnessed her boyfriend and best friend getting murdered?”

“Yeah…uh, Summers, right? Betty or something.”

“Buffy. Yeah, this was just a couple weeks ago.”

“Right. What kind of name is Buffy?”

“Her first name is Elizabeth.”

“Whatever. So, what happened?”

“Well, she felt unsafe since she turned herself over as a witness. Sarge took pity on her; she’s really such a small little thing…”

Spike fought the urge to roll his eyes. There were times when Finn was nothing but a ponce. He thought perhaps the guy was gay and far back in the closet, but then there were times when he thought Finn was getting ready to catapult himself out of that closet. Like now, for instance.

“Yeah, and?” Spike prompted when Finn gazed off into the room where Buffy was talking to the Sarge.

“Well, the cop that had been scheduled to watch her house—“

“Andrew?” Spike snorted, “Yeah, I knew that was a mistake.”

“He fell asleep on the job and Buffy’s house got broken into.”

“Jesus,” Spike swore under his breath. “They get caught?”

“No, they ran off when Andrew finally came to and bounded in the house when he heard Buffy screaming her head off. He got shot and the intruders ran.”

“She all right?”

“She’s shook up. She was taking a shower when it happened.”

“Christ,” Spike muttered and peered into the room. He couldn’t make out her face; her hair was a drape in front of it, blocking his view. She was shivering, he noticed. So focused was he on Buffy, that he didn’t notice the Sarge opening the door and barking at him.

“Giles, get your ass in here!”

Spike snapped to attention and nodded, heading into Sergeant Ethan Rayne’s office. Now maybe he’d get to see Buffy’s face. It was driving him nuts that he couldn’t see her face. Spike hated mysteries, or rather; he liked them, but had a burning need to solve them immediately. He wasn’t known for his patience with these things…or most things actually. He just wanted to get to the bottom of things, solve the case and get it done. He supposed that’s why he was labeled “Impulsive” and “Impatient”. He could count on both hands and both feet how many times he’d been punished to desk duty because his impulsive and impatient behavior had gotten him into trouble.

Entering the Sarge’s office, he took a good hard look at Buffy. Her head was down, dammit, he still couldn’t make out her face!

“Have a seat, Giles.”

Sergeant Rayne’s steel blue eyes focused in on Spike. “Did you hear?”

“I did.”

“Figured as much; saw you talking to Finn.”

“What do you need me for?” Spike asked, wanting to get to the bottom of what he was needed for already. He braced himself for having the job of having to watch Miss Summers’ house in place of Andrew.

“What do you think?”

“Right. Summer’s house. What shift? Day? Night?”

“Both, you’re going to stay with her.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “I’m what?”

“You’re going to stay with her, and Finn along with Gunn, will be placed to watch the house. Those intruder’s, we feel, are connected to the murders Miss Summers witnessed. She feels violated as well she should, not to mention frightened.”

What Spike found odd through this whole exchange was how Buffy sat there, unmoving, and not having any reaction to what was being said. He found that quite strange and resisted the urge to tap her on the shoulder and ask her what she thought about all this.

“Right. So, how long am I to stay?”

“Until they’re caught.”

“Sarge, who the hell knows how long that’ll take.”

“We have a lead, hopefully it won’t take long.”

“A lead huh? They drop a business card or something?”

Sergeant Rayne glared at him. “Don’t start, boy.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for her to stay with me instead? Keep her safe?”

“She does not wish to leave her home; she has everything accessible to her there that she wouldn’t have anywhere else.”

Spike rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. He turned to Buffy. “Hey, how you doin’? I’m William Giles, but everyone calls me Spike.”

“Spike—“ Sargeant Rayne began.

“Hey, you’re gonna have to talk to me, eventually,” Spike said to her.

Buffy’s head lifted then and she looked at the Sarge, inquisitively. Sargeant Rayne nodded towards Spike and she looked at him, finally.

Spike’s jaw nearly dropped, and his heart plummeted. My God, she’s gorgeous, he thought. She had delicate features, Buffy did. Her eyes, large and expressive took him in, she blinked and studied him, her small mouth parted just a bit, her cheeks rosy and her nose, Christ, her nose was cute. Her skin looked so smooth that Spike’s hands itch with the desire to reach out and affirm its smoothness.

“Are you the one that will be staying with me?” she asked, her melodic voice firm and yet a tad wobbly.

Spike was incredulous. Had she been listening at all? Was she daft? What the hell was that about? “Yes,” he said, not able to keep some of the irritation out of his voice.

She turned back to the Sargeant. “Thank you.”

“Hey, I’m the one staying with you, you might want to be thanking me,” Spike said, annoyed.

Sargeant Rayne nodded toward Spike again.

Buffy turned back to him. “I’m sorry?”

“I said…you might want to be thanking me.”

Buffy bit her lip, “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Spike. Hey are you deaf or something? I said that already—“

“Spike!” Sergeant Rayne barked at him warningly.

Buffy nodded, “As a matter of fact, Spike, I am.”

Spike felt like a world class dick. For all his powers of observation, how had he missed that?

“I can read lips, and loud sounds are slightly muffled to me, so when you talk to me, you’ll have to look at me so I can read your lips,” Buffy explained. Now that he knew, he could hear the slight muffled tone to her voice.

“I can sign too, but I find that since most people don’t, I don’t bother unless I’m around those who can,” she went on to explain.

Spike was making like a guppy; he looked to the Sarge for help and found the older man shaking his head in disappointment. Well, that was nothing new now was it? He turned back to Buffy. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize—“

She smiled at him softly, “It’s all right. How would you know unless someone told you?”

“I’m usually quick to pick up on things, I’m embarrassed.”

“For your powers of observation being off, or for getting upset with me?” She was teasing him, he could tell by her smile.

How was it that he had just colossally insulted her, and she was the one making him feel better for doing it? Shouldn’t she be demanding someone else stay with her? Someone less insulting, perhaps? He didn’t know quite what to say to her, so instead he said nothing and just smiled in what he hoped was sheepish manner. Really, all he wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“So, now that you’ve stuck your foot in your mouth, why don’t you escort Miss Summers home?” Sergeant Rayne directed.

“Yes, sir,” Spike mumbled and stood.

Buffy stood slowly. She looked up at him. “I’ll follow your lead.”

That might not be wise Spike thought sardonically. Following my lead might be detrimental to your health.

He headed toward his desk where Finn was hanging around. Eyebrows raised, he studied the oaf. “Something I can do you for, Finn?”

“Nothing, I heard you were taking over at Buffy’s.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed, “You heard or you eavesdropped?”

Finn gave him a look, and opened his mouth to speak when the Sergeant bellowed for him and Gunn. Before departing however, Finn reached out and touched Buffy’s arm, catching her attention. She jumped a mile from the touch, and Spike rolled his eyes. That’s right, scare the girl whose home just got broken into, you git.

“We’ll take good care of you,” Finn said slowly, forming each word perfectly, if not exaggerated.

“Thank you,” Buffy said graciously, smiling up at him.

Grabbing his holster and jacket, Spike looked at Buffy who was now watching him intently now that Finn was gone, “Ready?”

She nodded and brought her blanket around her tighter. He led her to his car, his black vintage DeSoto and expected to hear some grumbling. Women usually grumbled when they came across his car. Instead though, she just waited patiently for him to unlock her door and she climbed in.

The car ride was silent and more because Spike was aware he had to look at her to talk than anything else. His mind was buzzing with all sorts of questions. How’d it happen? Were you born with it? How do you talk on the phone? Did they do anything to you when they broke in? How did you happen to witness your boyfriend and best friend being murdered? He also figured that most of those questions were not PC, or rather, just downright rude.

He also felt like a git for not telling her they were going to his place first. He was going to need a few things after all. Pulling into the parking lot of his apartment, he pulled the car into a spot and cut the engine. He turned to her and found her looking up at him, as if she anticipated him to speak to her.

“Gathering your things?” she asked him.

He nodded, “Yeah. You’re quick, you know that?”

She shrugged. “Have to make up for that which I lack,” and she climbed out of the car. “By the way,” she said, “You have a nice car.”

He stared at her dumbfounded from over the hood. “You like it?”

“A DeSoto, right?”

“Right,” he said slowly.

She nodded, “My brother Angel had one.”

“Where is your brother?”

“He’s in New York right now. He was staying with me for a bit, but his job is very demanding and he had to leave for a few days.”

“And that’s when the break- in happened?”

She nodded, “Yes. I’m glad he wasn’t there, though. Who knows if they waited until I was alone, or if they would have come anyway and hurt him.”

“Most people would be pissed that they were left alone for that to happen to them.”

She smiled warmly. “I’m not like most people.”

“I guess not,” he said and smiled back at her. He found her simply amazing. There was something so sweet about her, so unguarded and innocent, and yet there was a hint of jadedness about her. He was intrigued. She was a mystery to him, and he always did like to get to the bottom of a mystery…

Entering the apartment on the second floor, Spike winced. He knew the state of his flat. What he lacked in decoration and homey touches, he made up for in clutter and mess. Flicking on the light, he started to apologize for the state of his flat, for the pizza boxes, sub wrappers, beer and red bull cans, empty coffee mugs papers spread out all over, and for the lack of furniture, when he felt her small delicate hand touch his arm.

He stopped his apology abruptly and turned to her. She couldn’t hear him and he’d been talking without looking at her.

“Were you speaking?” she inquired.

“I was; I’m sorry. . . How did you know?”

“I sense these things. What were you saying?”

“I was apologizing for how my place looks.”

She shrugged, “You are a man. It doesn’t bother me.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Wait here on the couch. I’ll grab a few things and we’ll go.”

She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. “Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Could we …could we stay here?”

He blinked, “What?”

“My home was broken into tonight while I was in it; in the shower mind you. I just don’t feel like going back there. Can we stay here, please?”

Her big green eyes were full of trepidation as she looked up at him. How could he say no? It had to be scary as hell for her, especially since she couldn’t hear so well. “Sure, Buffy, we could stay here. Just let me clean up.”

She heaved a sigh. “Thank you. Let me help you.”

“Buffy, you don’t have to do that.”

“Let me, please. It will give me something to do to take my mind off things and besides, I am a guest, and I have made this request to stay.”

He nodded, obliging her. “Sure. Follow me.”

They plowed through his flat quickly and efficiently until every piece of garbage had been cleaned up. She even grabbed the Windex and started scrubbing off the coffee rings on his glass coffee table. After calling the Sarge to let him know they were staying at his place for the night, he watched her attack his coffee table, not sure if he should feel guilty or insulted for all the cleaning she was intent on doing.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he told her, kneeling on the opposite end of the long coffee table, placing a hand on her arm. “You don’t have to do that,” he repeated.

She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, am I overstepping my boundaries? I tend to clean when I’m nervous. And I’ll admit, any smudges or rings on coffee tables are a pet peeve.” She placed the Windex and paper towel down. “Better?”

He chuckled, “No, Buffy, it’s all right. I feel bad. I take you here and it’s a mess.”

“You didn’t know I’d be here; and you didn’t know I’d ask to stay.”

“True, but here you are cleaning away and I’m just watching you.”

“Spike?”

“Yes, kitten?” he asked, the pet name flying out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Could I take a shower? I just feel I need to . . . wash.”

“Of course. Just let me make sure the bathroom is clean, all right?”

“Sure, thanks,” and she smiled, causing his breath to catch.

God, she was a sweet one, he thought as he padded down to the bathroom. And so strong, too. For all she’d been through, outwardly he wouldn’t know she was shook up if not for the verbal declarations that she was.

He whistled low as he took in the state of the bathroom. What a mess. It wasn’t that there was garbage in there, it was just a mess with toothpaste smudged in the sink, his mirror dotted with toothpaste and he didn’t even want to think about the shower and the toilet. Hauling the untouched cleaning supplies from under the sink, Spike whistled to himself as he set to clean the bathroom for Buffy.

********

Finn had been right; she was a tiny little thing. He noticed just how tiny she was when she finally discarded the blanket she hadn’t let go of since they’d left the station. She was thin, almost to the point of skinny, but he could see from the way her arms moved, exposed, as they were in a white tank top, that she had some muscle. She wore gray running pants with two white stripes down the side and white socks, having discarded her sneakers at his front door. He could tell also as she hung her blanket up on the hook on the door, that she was not wearing a bra. Her pert breasts were visible through the white ribbed material of her tank. He was a man noticing a woman at that point, and so his mouth watered at the sight.

He showed her quickly how to use the shower and handed her a white towel to dry off with after, and exited the bathroom quickly. It wouldn’t do well to be attracted like that to the witness slash victim. He had to keep things professional.

He went in hunt for some food he could make, if he wasn’t mistaken, he’d heard her stomach growl earlier. Pasta, he decided. He could throw together some pasta. Course, his method of throwing together pasta was to boil some noodles, slap some canned sauce on it, and then microwave it so the sauce warmed. He did know how to make an excellent sauce from scratch, but he never had the time anymore, so he grew accustomed to the warmed canned crap.

His father would be so disappointed in him.

Shoving that thought out of his head, he set about boiling pasta, and listening to the shower run. The phone ringing jarred him out of his thoughts of a naked Buffy and he checked his watch. “Damn,” he muttered, and let the machine get it.

“William Giles, where are you? You were supposed to call me.” His on again, off again “girlfriend”, Anya Jenkins, demanded over the machine. He said on again, off again, because he could not seem to make a commitment to her, despite her trying as best she could to corner him into one. When she put the pressure on too much, he bolted, and then she’d back off, seduce him, and for a while they’d have great sex and some fun before she was back to demanding a commitment. This was one of those times, it seemed, that she was sliding back into demanding a commitment. He was supposed to have called her when he got off his shift so they could get together, which meant, they were supposed to get together to screw.

He just didn’t feel like dealing with Anya at the moment. He just wanted to settle Buffy in and get some answers to the questions he had swirling in his mind.

Anya could wait.

*******

“Oh, thank you so much for this,” Buffy said gratefully, taking a bowl of pasta. “I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until we were cleaning.”

Settling into his bare, white kitchen at a small oak table, they tucked in to their respective bowls.

“Buffy,” he said when she looked up at him. “Can you tell me about your boyfriend and best friend? I know very little about your case.”

She nodded, “Sure. Well, my boyfriend, Parker, owned a bar downtown, it was, or rather is called The Realm. I was to meet him after hours so we could go back to his place. Well, when I got there, it appeared he’d forgotten that I was supposed to be there.”

“How so?”

“He was screwing my best friend, Gwen, on a pool table.”

“Oh Jesus,” Spike muttered, shocked.

“I was frozen, standing there, watching them. I was horrified and hurt, naturally. The next thing I knew there was a man all in black with a ski mask behind them. He shot them both in the head. He didn’t see me, as I was kind of standing in the shadows, the bar wasn’t even fully lit, and he never once looked my way. He took off and I called the police.”

“Buffy, Christ, that’s awful.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said softly and then without warning, burst into tears.

Spike didn’t know what to do. He never did when a woman cried. When Anya cried, it was a more often than not a contrived attempt to corner him into something. Buffy’s crying shook him, probably because she’d been so stoic thus far, it didn’t seem right that she would cry now, which was ridiculous. All that he’d witnessed of victims, either their emotional responses kicked in immediately or much later. He should have seen it coming.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I think it all just hit me.”

Getting up, Spike made his way around the table and awkwardly took her in his arms, hugging her. He patted her on the back, and then remembered reading that patting someone on the back was insincere. He stopped, resting his hand on her back. She was warm, her hair was damp and she felt so small and soft in his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder and cried.

When her cries had ceased somewhat, he pulled back and handed her the paper towel he gave her as a napkin. “Buffy, why don’t you wish to be put under police protection and stay with me?” he asked gently.

“I didn’t want him to get the best of me and drive me out of my home.”

“You witnessed a murder Buffy; you had to know he would come after you.”

“I did. I think I almost wanted him too.”

“Why?”

“So he’d be caught.”

“You set yourself up as a sitting duck?”

“Andrew was there.”

“Andrew,” Spike scoffed, “Is afraid of his own shadow.”

“Riley would come by often as well.”

That piqued Spike’s curiosity, “Did he now?”

She nodded. “He’s very kind.”

“Yeah, a real hero,” Spike muttered and Buffy giggled.

He looked up at her, surprised. “You giggled.”

She did it again, “I did.”

“That was nice to hear.”

“Thank you. You don’t like Riley?”

“No, I don’t. He’s a wuss.”

“And you don’t like Andrew.”

“No, he’s another wuss.”

“Is there anyone that can do the job correctly, Spike?”

He laughed then, her comment taking him by surprise. “No, don’t you know? Only I can do the job correctly.”

She smiled.

Something was nagging him now and he just had to get it out there. Sending her an apologetic look, he figured he’d just shoot straight from the hip. “Buffy, forgive me for asking, but aren’t you a suspect? I mean, you were the only one that saw it.”

“That is true. And my only alibi is that I spoke to Angel just before I left to meet Parker. I let them search my home and my computer for any evidence. I have nothing to hide, and they found nothing to incriminate me.”

“What are the suspects looking like?”

“Well, I know Parker had enemies – who doesn’t, right? – but I never would have thought their relationships were that bad.”

“Who were his enemies? Was it stupid guy stuff or something more serious?”

“A mix. There is a rival bar across town, The Bronze, and the owner was irate that Parker’s bar was very similar to his, and he was losing business because of The Realm. I’d seen the guy before get in Parker’s face about it.”

“And you told Sergeant Rayne this?”

“I told him all that I know.”

Silence, then, “You know, you don’t make sense.”

“How so?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“You made your brother a sitting duck as well.”

“I told him not to stay with me, but he insisted…I realize it’s a little contradictory, but life is full of contradictions, don’t you think?”

He smiled back, “That it is.” It was then that Spike became aware of how close they were, of her hands on his shoulders and how warm they felt through his white undershirt. He also became aware of the fact that he had the urge to kiss her. Just to see what she tasted like, and possibly to give her some comfort as well.

“Besides,” she continued, sliding her hands off him and turning toward the table, almost as if she’d read his mind. “I have what I need at my home. It really is locked up like a fortress.”

He put his hand under her chin and made her look at him. “So how’d they get in then, despite Andrew?”

“Somehow they figured out how to dismantle my alarm.”

“Forgive me again, but how are you able to hear that?”

“Don’t apologize, it’s a legitimate question. I have a pager with me at all times in the house, it alerts me if there is a fire by blinking a red light, and flashing a message telling me if there is a fire, or if there is an intruder. It’s waterproof. If I had been watching carefully, I would have seen that the pager completely failed on me, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was rinsing my hair. Plus they figured out how to make it so the security cameras I have in every room that switch from the garage, the front door and the back door, were shut off.”

“And if you’re sleeping? How are you aware of these things?”

“I keep the pager under my pillow and it vibrates.”

“Interesting. Did they hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did they come in the bathroom?”

“I saw them through the shower curtain; they were in my room, one through my drawers, two were trying to take my television, and one was coming for me.”

Spike’s whole body tensed. “What did you do?”

“I threw body wash and shampoo bottles at him, and then grabbed hair spray when I jumped out of the shower and sprayed him in the eyes, all the while screaming my head off.”

“My God, Buffy.”

“Andrew heard me then, and came up. By then they seemed to be frightened so they ran out of the house, but only after shooting Andrew.”

“Jesus, Buffy, they could have shot you.”

“They didn’t though. I can’t…” she shook her head, “I can’t dwell on that.”

“Christ, how can you not?”

She smiled at him. “You notice that when you say ‘Jesus’ in one sentence, you say ‘Christ’ in the next? It’s funny.”

No, he hadn’t noticed, and he didn’t care about that at the moment. “Buffy, I think you should stay with me.”

“They think the break in is connected.”

“You’re not listening—“ Callous statement, considering? He wasn’t sure.

“I don’t think it is. I think it was just a break in. If he was coming after me, they would have done me in, all of them, not just one.”

“Maybe they thought only one was needed to take care of you. Maybe they figured they might as well get what they could while they were there.”

She frowned, “Or they just heard the shower and saw me. Or had been watching the house for a while. Or decided to take their chance despite the cop.”

“You have a lot of theories on this.”

“I read a lot.”

“See any faces?”

“Nope, they wore a Mike Myers mask, you know, that creepy guy from the Halloween movies? Those movies always scared the crap out of me. That character is the ultimate boogey man. Now I’ll never again be able to watch them again.”

“Buffy, why don’t you just stay with me, here?”

“Can I think about it?”

“I know it’s not much—“

“It’s not that. Can I just think about it?”

“Sure.”

“It’s my home, Spike. I’ve had to overcome a lot of things in my life; I don’t wish to think I can’t overcome this.”

“You’re a hell of a woman, you know that?”

She smiled wistfully. “No, I’m not. I’m just me, doing the best that I can.”

“Well, it’s a hell of a lot than most could or would think to do.”

“That could change when you take me home. I could be a mess.”

“I thought you were going to think about staying here instead?” he said, cocking his head to the side, narrowing his eyes suspiciously and quirking his lips into a lopsided grin.

“Yes, I am,” she said resolutely, and turned back to her bowl of pasta, effectively ending the conversation.

********

She hadn’t wanted to put him out by making him sleep on the couch, but when he told her that he’d already changed the sheets for her, she acquiesced. Lying in the middle of his full sized bed, she called out to him as he made his way to the living room.

He turned and felt his breath hitch. Images of him in bed with her, with her under him infiltrated his mind and annoyed at his thoughts, he barked “What?”

She looked taken back by his outburst. She didn’t have to hear to read he was irritable and just snapped at her. “I – I wanted to thank you.”

“You’ve done enough thanking me tonight. Just stop all right?”

“All right.”

“Get some rest, we’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”

She nodded solemnly, and he felt like a git for yelling at her. He hadn’t meant to. It was just that she looked so fetching to him in his bed, looking all sweet, innocent and vulnerable. He had enough complications with Anya; he certainly didn’t need another one. Especially one that had burglars and a murderer after her.

Spike woke slowly, the smell of bacon and pancakes tickling his nose. He shot up, reaching for his gun on the floor and then calmed. Oh yes. Buffy. And besides, what intruder would make him breakfast? Perhaps his instincts were fading.

Stretching and yawning loudly, Spike stood, feeling his muscles creak in protest. Right, maybe if Buffy did decide to stay with him, he’d invest in an air mattress. Nature calling, he meandered into the kitchen, yawning again.

Buffy was humming as she cracked eggs on a skillet. She was a strange one all right, she was singing “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning”, from Oklahoma! softly. Coming over to her, he tapped her arm.

She whipped toward him, spatula poised for attack. He chuckled and grabbed her wrist before it could descend. He met her green eyes and was once again, swept away by her beauty. The sun from the porch door poured in behind her and made her look ethereal to him.

She relaxed in his grip. “Sorry. Just reflex.”

“Don’t apologize. Those are good reflexes to have. Did you sleep well, pet?” he asked, releasing her wrist. And here were some more pet names.

“Yes, I did. Thank—not thanking you, right.”

“Look, Buffy, I’m sorry I snapped at you like that. The day and the night caught up with me at that point. Forgive me?”

She waved her hand, dismissing his apology. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. Of course I forgive you. I hope you don’t mind that I decided to make breakfast. I was hungry and I figured after all you did for me…”

“I didn’t do much,” he drawled and scratched his bare stomach.

“Sure you did,” she said and went back to the skillet.

He went to the bathroom, which was attached to the kitchen, came back, and set about making coffee and pouring orange juice. She was setting the feast she made out and he had to grin at the spread. He was famished, and it was nice to have his flat smelling like someone actually lived here instead of just crashing occasionally. He sat down with her and when she was looking at him, he said “I didn’t know I had this stuff here.”

She chuckled, “I don’t think you spend a lot of time here, do you?”

“I don’t,” he admitted, running his hand through his bleached blond locks.

“How old are you, Spike?”

“I’m thirty-three. How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“You’re such a young un,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”

“Compared to me you are.”

She laughed, “You’re only four years older. My brother is the same age as you.”

“Are you very close?”

“Yes, we are. He’s been watching out for me for a long time.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you know, growing up being deaf, you get teased a lot. No one understands it, and you sound funny, so I understand from being told anyway. Angel was my protector. He got into a lot of fights beating up the kids in the school yard that made fun of me.”

Spike didn’t blame him. He had a wish to get names so he could arrest them just for the hell of it. How could anyone pick on someone with a disability like that? It was inconceivable to him. Especially someone like Buffy.

“How are you not bitter?” he asked, before he could think about what he was saying.

She shrugged, buttering her toast. “Well, there’s really no point. I can’t change things. They are the way they are. And kids are cruel. Some of those same kids that picked on me became my close friends as we get older. Kids just don’t understand differences as well.”

“Buffy,” he asked with some hesitancy. “Were you very much in love with your boyfriend?”

She shook her head, looking regretful. “No. What about you, Spike? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No, I don’t.”

“That works out well then.”

His pulse jumped, “How so?”

“Well, it’d be a bit of an awkward for you to be watching out for me if you had a girlfriend. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of problems.”

“Oh. Well, that’s very sweet of you.”

“I try,” she grinned. Gesturing to the spread, she ordered him to eat. Happily, he dug in.

********

Whistling to himself, and chuckling inwardly when he realized it was “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning”, Spike dried off from his shower and quickly threw on his clothes and set about shaving.

He hadn’t asked Buffy yet if she wanted to go back to her house or stay here with him. He didn’t want to pressure her, having got the impression she didn’t do well with pressuring.

He lifted the shaving cream bottle in his hand and was about to squirt some out when he heard a shriek. Dropping the bottle, he bolted out the bathroom and found Buffy with her back up against the wall across the kitchen and Anya, Christ, Anya in her face, waving a finger in her face and ranting. Buffy was looking down at Anya with her eyes wide. She looked fearful, which was funny considering all that had happened to her. Anya was just a pint-sized woman, though…she was a hellion. He wouldn’t put it past her to scratch Buffy’s eyes out.

“How dare you hit me!” Anya yelled.

Spike was halfway across the room when he heard that, and that gave him pause for half a second. When he finally reached the pair, he grabbed Anya’s arm and hauled the blond off Buffy.

“Anya, get out of her face,” he ordered, annoyed.

“Who is she? Huh? Who is she William Giles?”

“I’m Buffy, I told you—“ Buffy tried to explain, still close enough to be able to read Anya’s lips.

“I’m not talking to you!” Anya screamed at her.

Buffy shut her mouth and started to slink away. Anya, catching this out of the corner of her eye, halted her with a look.

“Anya, leave her alone. She’s a witness and she’s under my care. I didn’t call you last night because this was sprung on me last minute,” Spike explained as calmly as he could. God, this was exactly what drove him nuts about her; her screeching and flying off the handle over every little thing.

“Why did your stepfather give it to you? Why couldn’t someone else do it? Can’t you ask him if someone else can take care of the bimbo?”

“She is not a bimbo!” Spike hollered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Buffy staring at him nervously, and he took a calming breath.

“Don’t you yell at me, William!”

“Anya,” Spike began, calmer this time, “I slept on the couch last night. She is in my care; my stepfather does not care about my personal life when it comes to giving me assignments, and you need to calm down.”

She huffed and crossed her arms across her chest, stamping her foot. “I don’t like this.”

“Nothing I can do about that,” Spike said, shrugging.

“One day, William Giles,” Anya warned, her finger in his face, “You’re going to be sorry you jerked me around!” And with that she left, slamming the door behind her, causing Buffy to jump. He was sure she could feel the vibrations from the slam since it reverberated through the flat.

Buffy looked at him accusingly, “I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?”

Spike sighed and ran a hand through his wet locks. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Then what was she?”

“She’s. . . it’s complicated.”

“How? It seems pretty simple to me.”

“She’s someone I see now and then.”

Understanding dawned on Buffy and her mouth formed into an ‘O’. “She’s your…you sleep with her?”

Spike winced at how horrible it sounded coming from Buffy’s mouth. He could tell Buffy wasn’t that sort of girl. She was probably a one-man woman that demanded commitment and not just the occasional hook up. He felt like scum and found he couldn’t look at her. “Yes,” he answered simply.

“Then. . . does she have others? Do you have others?”

“No,” he shook his head. He could barely take Anya, he couldn’t even fathom another girl coming along and mucking things up like that. “And she doesn’t have others, either. She wants to be with me, exclusively, but I don’t….I don’t want to be.”

“Ahh…”Buffy murmured, nodding. “No strings.”

“Right, no strings.”

“It’s really none of my business. But, I have a question: Who is your stepfather?”

“Sergeant Rayne.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “He’s your stepfather?”

“He is. Not a fact I like to share too often.”

“Why? Do you – do you get special treatment?”

Spike laughed derisively. “No, I don’t. He rides my ass.”

“To make up for the fact that he’s your stepfather?”

“No, just to prove to me that he’s in charge and that I can do nothing about it. I can do nothing about the fact that he’s Sergeant, and I can do nothing about the fact that he’s married to my mother.”

“You dislike him,” Buffy observed.

“Dislike is too weak. I pretty much loathe him.”

“Oh. Because he is your mother’s husband?”

“Yeah, exactly. Look, can we drop this?”

Buffy nodded. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t worry about it – you hit her?”

Buffy averted her eyes, the expression on her face reading guilt. “Yes. I didn’t hear her coming in and I guess she’d started yelling as soon as she saw me. She was in my face suddenly and it startled me, so I hit her. Then she backed me into the wall.”

“Jesus, Buffy, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Well, actually, it kind of is. You should have told her even if you are just. . . sleeping together.”

“I don’t have to answer to her,” he snapped, “I don’t have to answer to anyone.”

Buffy pursed her lips together and nodded. “Spike, if you don’t want to stay with me, I understand. I could have someone else, like Riley—“

“No!” Spike blurted out forcefully, even surprising himself. “I will do it.” I want to do it.

“All right then. Do you mind if we go to my home?”

“So, you’ve decided not to stay here then?”

“I want to try it.”

He sighed, “All right. Let me just shave and pack.”

“Thank you,” and she walked away.

Was it wrong that he was more concerned about Buffy than Anya? Shouldn’t he at least care that Anya was upset with him? Instead though, he cared what innocent Buffy Summers thought of him.

********

Pulling up to her house on the ritzy side of Sunnydale, Spike let out a low whistle. Yeah, he might have to amend the theory that the intruders had been after her because of the murder and not just for a burglary.

Her house was vast.

It was marble with two sharp roofs in the front, a garage he could just pull into by the press of a button, and a stone pathway that led up to her house on the hill.

No wonder she didn’t want to stay at his place. Compared to her home, his flat was a shoebox. Climbing out of his car, he let out another low whistle when he spotted the Mercedes next to him. He looked at her, “That yours?”

She shook her head, “Angel’s.”

“What does he do exactly?”

“Mergers and acquisitions.”

“Tough job.”

“So is yours.”

“Touché.”

She led him through the garage and up some stairs to her home. They entered into a large kitchen that he was sure was the size of his flat. She had gray marble counters that seemed to stretch on and on, a wide sink he thought maybe he could take a bath in, and a fridge that could probably hold food for the army. He looked over at Buffy who he found was trembling.

Immediately he snapped into action, placing a hand on her back in a comforting manner. “Buffy? You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Do you want to go?”

“No. I haven’t come this far in life by giving up.”

He had to smile. His girl was a fighter. Wait. Hold the phone. His girl? She was not his girl. She was Buffy and she was her own person, just as he was his own person.

“Buffy, do your parents know what happened to you?”

“No, I didn’t call them…I will.”

“Uh, how do you call them?”

She smiled. “You’ll see. I have state of the art technology courtesy of my parents. It’s very cool, if not a bit much.”

“How do you not get lost in this place?” he asked her.

“I’m used to it.”

“You’re a rich girl, huh? What do you do?”

“No, I’m not. My parents are,” she seemed offended by that question. “I’m a website editor for a small business company. Nothing fancy.”

“Being a cop isn’t fancy either. You work from home?”

“Yes.”

He was starting to gather an impression that Buffy Summers was alone a lot of the time. For all her bravery, he was gaining the distinct impression she still closed herself off from the world.

“I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t mean to insinuate or make it sound like you were an uptight rich girl or something.”

“Most gather that impression of me, living in this house. But it’s not the case. How can I be a snob and be the way I am? It doesn’t fit or make sense. My parents do all this for me, and at one time, I didn’t want any of it, but now it’s home to me. I feel safe here. Or, at least I did. This was my sanctuary at one time and I want so much to feel that it is again.”

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “You will feel that way again, I promise.”

She smiled warily, “Thank you. Come on, let me show you around.”

Spike couldn’t sleep. A fact glaringly obvious by the amount of times he’d looked at the clock. Going on two hours now.

Buffy had shown him the house, including her phone that had a TV attached it, that flashed red to alert her she had an incoming call– pretty high tech, she was right about that, and she had someone right there for her to sign. She showed him the pager she used and the machine it was connected to. It was all intricate and all quite fascinating. It made him realize how people, who had all their senses, took it all for granted. People without handicaps took plenty for granted, and those without had to rely on inventions such as the pager to make it through. He was struck that as high – tech it all was, it wasn’t a guarantee that she’d feel the vibrations if there was a fire, or intruder, and any number of the things could go wrong. It was frightening to think of.

After checking out the TV phone, he asked her to sign for him, curious and wanting to learn more about how to communicate with her. He was really fascinated, and hearing her laugh while he tried to copy some signs was an added bonus, along with having her hands on him when she was moving his hands into position for him.

The house was homey and comfortable, if not entirely too large for one person. She even had a special ‘movie room’; with the biggest flat screen TV he’d ever seen his life, a popcorn maker and a few easy chairs and love seats. It even held a fridge. It was pretty amazing to him. She admitted to not spending a lot of time in any other room aside from her bedroom, the study where she worked, the library where she read, the kitchen (naturally) and the living room.

Parker, she told him, always wanted to throw extravagant parties and have movie nights in her home. And she’d go along with it, she said. Spike was gathering the impression Buffy’s relationship with Parker hadn’t been the best. To him it sounded as if Parker was using her; a fact that seemed obvious to him when she informed him that she had helped fund his bar when he was just starting out. When she spoke of him, it was with an edge to her voice, almost of distaste, and she barely mentioned Gwen. Not that he could blame her. It had to be hard to muddle through not only seeing your boyfriend and so-called best friend getting shot right in front of you, but then knowing that they had been carrying on in an affair as well.

Maybe Buffy did do it. Maybe she knew all along of their affair and only said she didn’t to make her not look suspicious.

He shook his head. That route had already been explored. Especially if he knew his uncle, the man trusted no one. Spike had been around enough murderers and criminals to pick up on the vibe they gave off: even when they were feigning innocence and ignorance. Many times Spike had had to follow his gut on a suspect in the face of evidence that pointed another way. Inevitably, his gut was always right.

So, why? Why were they murdered? He was kicking himself for not studying up on the case before taking Buffy out of the precinct, but he felt rushed. Buffy was in need of sanctuary, and he wanted to provide for her. He wondered if Buffy had any ideas. He also wondered if she was up as he got up and went in search of her. Chances were, she was asleep, but if she wasn’t, they could maybe talk, and if she was, he could walk around the house and hopefully tucker himself out.

Walking by her room, he heard her TV going and pressed his ear to the door for any sign of movement. Nothing. “Buffy?”

No answer. He rolled his eyes at himself. Like she was going to hear him. And knocking on the door, yeah, that was out too.

Taking a deep breath, and hoping not to frighten her, he pushed her door open slowly. She was up, as was indicated by her sitting up and turning to look at him. For a second, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She sat up in bed, in pink and white striped capri pajama bottoms and a pink tank top, her legs stretched out before her, her toes, he noticed, painted pink.

“William, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he said, and meant it. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. In the center of her room was her king sized bed, her sheets cotton and colored lavender with a matching flowered comforter. Her carpet was gray, and her walls had just the hint of a lavender hue. Her TV sat across from her on a small entertainment system, and an oak desk was shoved up against the wall across the room, against her full sized windows, her gauzy white curtains billowing in front of them. Her phone system was just to the right of TV. Her bathroom, he noted was just to the right of her bed. All things considered, her room was pretty sparse and not that large.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, “Can’t sleep?

He nodded in her direction, “You can’t either.” Glancing over at the TV, he was momentarily distracted by watching the close captioned at the bottom of the screen.

She sighed heavily, letting the air out slowly between her teeth. “No, I can’t. It’s hard because I can’t hear anything...” her eyes welled up in tears. “So I can’t hear if someone could have hurt you and is coming after me. And I keep looking at the TV in the corner to see if someone is at the door, but it’s broken now because of them.”

Spike all but lunged at her, settling himself next to her and gathering her straight up in his arms. He was getting better at this comfort thing. Mainly, he realized, because he hated seeing Buffy cry. It broke his heart. She was not someone who let her handicap rule her, she ruled it, as he’d witnessed through being around her, but this was a time when she felt her handicap was harmful to her. It frightened her, and he could understand why. To an extent anyway. He’d never had a handicap, never even broke anything in life, knock on wood. The only thing he’d had to overcome was his father’s death and his mother’s betrayal.

But here Buffy was, deaf, and locked up in the fortress of the house built especially for her and her needs, and someone, rather a bunch of someone’s had come in and shattered her sense of security; they’d penetrated her fortress. That had to be nerve-wracking.

She cried into his shoulder, her body shaking with sobs. It took a minute, but soon, she had her arms wrapped fully around him, holding him tightly to her. He could feel her clothed breasts pressed up against his bare chest and he tried to ignore the light-headedness he felt. She was so soft, so warm, so tiny and so upset. He wanted to chase away all her fears and obliterate all that had happened to her. Someone like Buffy did not deserve to have to deal with all this shit. She was someone that deserved to be treated like a Princess, taken care of and loved – and most certainly not cheated on.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling back and furiously wiping at her tears. “I keep crying on you.”

Reaching over to her nightstand, he grabbed a handful of tissues from her tissue box and handed them to her. “Hush, now,” he said, tilting her face up so she could read his lips. “You have every right to feel as you do, Buffy. Anyone would. You’re not a robot.”

“It took me a long time to get to a place where I didn’t feel as though being deaf was the end of my life. I accepted it, and learned to live with it. But right now, I hate it.”

Brushing her hair from her face while she wiped her tears and blew her nose, he found himself staring at her tenderly.

“What?” she questioned him.

Her lips were so pink, and she looked so sweet and so innocent. All he wanted to do was taste her, just once, just to see what her lips felt like under his...

He jerked back when he found himself leaning in. Buffy looked up at him trusting and wide-eyed. “Spike?”

“Pet, I’ll grab my blankets and pillows and sleep in here on the floor, all right?” he said, releasing her and getting up from the bed.

She nodded mutely. He knew she could tell the change in him and was wondering what had happened. He just couldn’t get involved. He didn’t wan the complication, didn’t need it. If he did, he’d go to Anya and finally give her what she wanted. Besides, Buffy was an angel. She was far too good for him. She didn’t need his cynicism and cold heart, his constant irritability and jadedness. She might have been through tough times, she might have been hurt, but she was still somehow, an innocent. He didn’t want to sully her by getting too close.

As he looked over his shoulder and found her watching him intently, her expression confused, he felt the pull of her, the urge to go back and gather her back up in his arms, soothe her and kiss her.

But that was dangerous, and so he forced himself out the door. Professional, he repeated to himself over and over.

Buffy had never met someone like Spike before. He was different, he came from a different world, and one in which she was wildly curious about. She’d always been on the inside, always coddled and protected and it hadn’t been until she agreed to have her home built that she got a taste of independence. Her parents had made it so she’d never need anything from the outside world, but she wanted to taste the outside world; she didn’t want to be a prisoner, though she was feeling like one now.

She hadn’t realized until she’d seen Parker and Gwen screwing on a pool table just how sheltered she really had been; and then of course to completely shatter her ‘shelterdness’ into smithereens, she watched them get shot. That was an image that visited her nightly. She could count on every night waking up at least once or twice to that image infiltrating her dreams.

Simply horrific.

Spike bursting back in the room caused her to jump and he shot her an apologetic look before setting up a makeshift bed comprised of several blankets and pillows on the floor. He gestured toward her light that was still on and the TV when he was all set and she nodded, shutting off the TV while he got the light. She watched him in the semi-dark lie down and get situated. She lay back, staring up at the ceiling for a long time. Cautiously, she sat up and peered over at him. He appeared asleep, but who knew? Deciding she didn’t care anymore, Buffy shimmied her way down to the edge of the bed, aligning her body on the bed to his on the floor. She stared down at him, feeling perhaps she was acting like a stalker, but again deciding she didn’t care.

He’d almost kissed her; she knew that. She’d wanted it too. If not because she was attracted to him, then because she invited the comfort. She felt as though she were bursting at the seams. She was trying so hard to keep herself strong and clear-headed, that eventually it caught up with her in these outbursts of emotion. She was conscious of the fact that she didn’t want to be the weepy deaf woman that everyone felt sorry for, even though she was feeling pretty sorry for herself at the moment.

Buffy didn’t want Spike to feel sorry for her though, didn’t want him to kiss her out of pity, though at that moment, she hadn’t cared if that’d been the case. She didn’t know why he stopped himself from following through: her powers of observation weren’t that great.

Yawning, she shut her eyes and finally, sleep claimed her.

********

As Buffy watched the scene before her unfold, watched the tall man all in black blow away her boyfriend and best friend, she felt a hand on her arm, tugging on her, trying to pull her away from the horrendous scene.

Her eyes snapped open and found Spike holding on to her arms, trying to jerk her awake. He turned the light on and told her, “You were having a nightmare.”

She could tell he was perplexed, concerned. “I have one or two every night. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

He shook his head. “Buffy, don’t be sorry for waking me. I’m a cop and I keep odd hours to begin with, and anyway, that’s not the point. Were you dreaming of…?”

“Parker and Gwen.”

“Every night, you say?”

“Yes, every night…Spike?”

“Yes, kitten?” Her heart fluttered, she sure liked it when he called her names like that, even if he didn’t mean them. But then his hand was pushing hair from her face in a thoroughly tender manner and she thought maybe he did mean to call her such endearments.

“You’ve been around people like me before, right? People who have seen something horrible?”

“I have. Seen a few of those horrible things myself.”

“When do the nightmares stop? How long until I don’t dream of it anymore?”

“I suppose until you’ve healed from it. It’s different for everyone, Buffy.”

“Is there something I can take? A pill or something?”

He was laughing, chuckling maybe; she thought maybe chuckling the way his shoulders barely moved, though his smile was just as wide. “No, luv. There’s nothing you can take. The most you can take is a sleeping pill to help you sleep, but those won’t stop the dreams.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“No, not laughing at you. I just had to chuckle at how cute you are. If only there was a pill you could take. If there was, I’d be sure to give it you.”

She smiled and hugged him, “Thank you.”

He pulled back sooner than she was wanted to, and he looked at her imploringly, and quite nervously, “Do you want me to sleep in the bed with you? Would that help?”

Oh, yes, she thought, that’d be nice. But out loud she cleared her throat and said, “Only if you want to Spike. I don’t want you to feel you have to take care of me.”

“Buffy,” he said, and his demeanor changed to one of frustration. “Just tell me if you want me to sleep in your bed with you, dammit.”

“Yes,” she blurted. If he wanted her to speak plainly about it, then she would.

He nodded once, abruptly. “All right. Lie down. I just need to use the loo.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at that, albeit a nervous giggle that broke the tension. He smiled down at her, all frustration having dissipated.

“Something funny, kitten?”

“You. The ‘loo’.”

He grinned, “My apologies. The bathroom.”

She giggled again as he went to the “loo”. When he came back, she used it, and when she came back, she felt suddenly nervous and incredibly shy. The only man she’d had in her bed was Parker, and he wasn’t much of a cuddler. Something told her that Spike could possibly be a cuddler, despite his tough exterior. He was looking up at the ceiling, the covers up over his waist, one arm flung in the back of his head.

She gulped, thinking for the hundredth time in two days how lovely he was sculpted. Sheer perfection. Crawling into the bed, she smiled nervously. She started to roll so that her back was to him and he stopped her, by grabbing her arm. She looked at him, her heart hammering in her chest. Was he going to kiss her this time?

“Good night, Buffy.”

Nope, he wasn’t. “Good night.” And she rolled over as he shut the light out. He was sleeping with her to ease her mind and calm her nerves. He was sleeping with her to help her sleep, and all Buffy found herself was wide awake.

Spike woke up first. He woke up warm, well rested and extremely comfortable. And, he had an armful of Buffy.

Even better. She was spooned into him, her back against his front, and her hand on his hand that was wrapped around her belly. She held onto him as if she were afraid he’d let go. No chance of that.

She hadn’t woken up again since he’d climbed into bed with her. Seeing her thrash in bed, and whimper in fear, had caused his instincts to protect her at all costs to kick in. If he could fend off the demons in her dreams, he would. Her grateful hug had caused his libido to kick in, and that hadn’t sat well. Here she was, trying to gain some comfort and thank him for being there, and he’d wanted her. Again. Then he’d gone and asked her if she wanted him to sleep in her bed. He’d wanted to kick himself for not being able to help himself. When she’d hesitated and put it in his hands, he’d been frustrated. Leaving it up to him was not safe. If she told him no, he would have gone. But she’d said yes instead.

What was she thinking? I’m a bad, rude man, Buffy. I’m not for the likes of you. I’d only hurt you. Just ask Anya. Or don’t, actually. I don’t need her tainting me against you. You see me as some kind of hero, as maybe a friend even. When I see me through your eyes, I can almost feel like a good man. But I’m not. I’m nothing but a vampire, and I’d prey on someone as sweet as you.

“Spike?” she murmured, wiggling against him.

He shut his eyes, Oh Christ, no. Yep, sure enough his member was wide awake now. All it took was the sound her voice saying his name in such a manner, a little wiggle, and he was hard as a rock.

Irritated with his response, he jumped out of bed and all but stomped into the bathroom, hoping to tame his erection.

********

Buffy wasn’t sure what happened. One minute she was in bed snuggled up with him, and she’d awoken, wondering if he was awake, and the next thing she knew, he was stomping off to the bathroom.

Had he hated being in bed with her? Did she hog the blankets? Oh God, did I snuggle up to him? Did he hate being snuggled up to me? She felt hurt. Obviously something had upset him, unless he always stomped off to the bathroom in such a manner, and that didn’t seem plausible.

Well, fine, she thought huffily, and crawled out of bed, stomping herself downstairs. If I’m that repulsive to him, then I’ll just stay away from him. He won’t have to deal with me at all then!

The idea that he possibly found staying with her a trial, and that he’d much rather be off screwing Anya hurt terribly. She best not forget her place with him. She was the victim, and he was there to protect. It was what cops did: Serve and protect. Any connecting she might have felt they’d done, any attraction she might have picked up on, was possibly all one-sided and could very well be the by product of grief and shock. Was it still even shock at this point?

And honestly, did she really feel grief over Parker? Sure she felt sad that he was dead, no one deserved to have to go at such a young age and especially not that way, but she didn’t feel that thing over his death. She didn’t feel that she would miss him, or that she would pine over him and wonder what could have happened in the future for them.

Truth was, she hadn’t seen much of a future there.

Parker was the first man who’d showered her with affection, who charmed her, wined and dined her and the first man to take her virginity. She did it with him more out of just wanting to get it over with than because she cared for him. Fact was, he was just there. She’d tricked herself into thinking she loved him, but she didn’t. Any love she fooled herself into thinking she had for him had been flung out the window the minute she saw him in the throes of passion with Gwen.

That bitch.

Spike grabbing her arm, knocked her out of her reverie. “What’s wrong?” he asked her. “I got out of the bathroom and you were gone.”

“Nothing,” she said haughtily and yanked her arm from his grasp. “I can make breakfast if you like?”

“How about I make you something? You made breakfast for me yesterday.”

“Sure, fine, whatever,” she said, shrugging.

He cocked his head to the side, studying her. “What’s going on? You’re not acting like yourself.”

“I am too,” she snipped.

He frowned, “No, you’re really not. How about you tell me what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

“I do not have my panties in a twist.” She smirked then, a brilliant idea hitting her. “How do you even know I’m wearing any?”

He grinned, “You’re not that kind of girl, Buffy.”

Rolling her eyes, she started for the bathroom. “I’m going to use the shower.” At times like that, she really enjoyed not being able to hear, for if he was shouting for her to stop, she couldn’t hear him.

********

Something was up with her, and she was hell bent on not telling him. Her attitude was cold and he did not like it. She wasn’t warm and welcoming to him, she was stiff and uptight. That wasn’t the Buffy from the day before, and the night before that.

Oh God, what if she’d felt his erection? What if she’d been repulsed by it?

He sneered at the fridge, “Maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe she isn’t as sweet as I thought; maybe she really is an uptight rich bitch.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “And maybe I shouldn’t be talking to refrigerators.”

Fine then, he thought. I’ll just keep my distance. She’s in my care and that’s it. I’ll serve and protect and keep it distant. Nothing says we have to be friends. Nothing says we have to be anything.

Okay, sure he’d thought she was too good for him, and that he’d only hurt her, but damn! It hurt to know that she possibly felt the same way; that she was above him and he was beneath her.

This is good. This is just what I needed to be clear on what I am doing here. Distance. That’s what he need. Distance.

The idea though, of not talking with her, of not seeing her laugh and feeling her bestow a smile upon him, made him feel an incredible sense of loss. Clenching his jaw, he pushed the feeling aside, as he was so good at doing, and set to work on making breakfast.

When Buffy came down the stairs for breakfast – she could smell the sausage and eggs – she found Riley and Officer Gunn in her kitchen with Spike. Spike was dishing out breakfast in two plates, and he was clearly annoyed.

“Hello,” Buffy said easily, breezing into the kitchen and smiling brightly at the two officers.

“Hello, Buffy, how are you?” Riley asked, gently touching her arm.

She didn’t know why he felt he always had to do that. She was looking right at him; she didn’t need a cue that he was talking to her.

“We’re going to start watching the house, and we’ve come to install a new alarm system and fix the cameras for you,” he explained.

“Oh, thank—“

“I can do that,” Spike interrupted handing Buffy her plate and narrowing his eyes at Riley. “You guys can just sit out in your cars and do the job you’re supposed to do. I can take care of the rest.”

“He’s right, Finn,” Gunn jumped in, eyeing the plate Buffy held in her hand. “We should keep a watch out in case anything looks suspicious.”

“Both of us don’t need to do that,” Riley said. Buffy could tell he was becoming slightly annoyed. His body language reeked of it.

“I said I’d take care of it,” Spike said. “Now why don’t you shove off, eh? Don’t need you eyeing our food like a couple of vulchers. I’m sure you had your fill of donuts this morning—“

“Oh, I’m sure I could make something for you if you’re hungry,” Buffy offered.

“Wouldn’t think of imposing, Buffy. Spike’s right. We’ve got work to do,” Riley said, smiling at her warmly. “He treating you right? If he’s too much for you, I can always ask—“

“Finn, shut the hell up and get the hell out,” Spike barked at him.

Even Buffy recoiled at the anger and demand she could see written clearly across his face. His whole body was tense; and he looked poised for attack.

Riley and Spike shared a glaring match while Gunn reluctantly got up from his seat and pulled Riley’s arm until Riley willingly followed him.

“You really don’t like him at all, do you?” Buffy said once they were out of the room.

“No, I don’t,” Spike replied, cracking his neck. He muttered something that Buffy couldn’t make out since he turned his head away from her and sat down at the table, tucking into his breakfast.

They ate their meal in silence, each wanting to say something, but not knowing what to say. Things were now strained and Buffy longed for the easy camaraderie that they seemed to have had. She’d never taken so easily to another person before.

Then she remembered how he’d marched off to the bathroom that morning, his body tense with frustration, and she shut the need to talk to him off. He probably felt he overstepped a boundary last night and was angry at himself, and possibly her, for doing it. She should have told him not to sleep with her; clearly he hadn’t really wanted to and was kicking himself for it now. He probably thought she was all dependent on him now…the poor deaf girl whose home had gotten broken into needed the big strong cop to assuage her fears.

Well, she was not that poor deaf girl and she didn’t need him to assuage anything. All she needed was some protection, and of course for the killer and the intruders to be caught, and when that was done, they could each go their separate ways and live their separate lives.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye as she ate. She would sure wonder about him though.

********

“You’re going to what?” Spike asked, looking up at her from where he was fiddling with the new alarm system. He was never that good with things like this, wiring and all that, but he’d be damned if he was going to ask Finn for help. Then he’d have to hear Buffy tell him how thankful she was for him helping. Yeah, he was all set with that.

“I’m going grocery shopping. I just need to pick up a few things.

He stared at her. “How are you going grocery shopping?”

“Cab.”

He shook his head. “I’ll go with you.”

“Spike, you don’t have to do that.”

“You know,” he said, annoyed, “If I had a dime for every time you told me ‘thank you’ and ‘you don’t have to do that’, I’d be a rich man by now.”

She glared at him, the fire rising in her eyes, and he felt rooted to the spot. She was glorious when she was angry.

“Fine, then let me put it this way: I don’t want you to go!”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re acting like an ass, that’s why!”

“How am I acting like an ass, what the hell have I done?”

“Good bye, Spike!” And she stalked off, muttering under breath.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he muttered and went after her. Catching up to her near the Mercedes, he grabbed her arm and spun her around to look at him. “I’m. Going. With. You.”

“No. You’re. Not.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been tense all right? Just got a lot on my mind. Let me just go with you, Buffy. I’ll pick up a few things for myself. You’re under my care right now and I don’t think you should go alone.”

“They wouldn’t do anything in broad daylight like that would they?” she asked, surprised. Clearly, she hadn’t thought it through.

“You never know. Depends on how desperate they are.”

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Great, let me grab my wallet.”

*******

Buffy Summers had a sweet tooth and, he was finding more and more, an infectious giggle. He’d been floored that her routine of grocery shopping included first visiting the candy aisle and picking up a big bag of whatever struck her fancy and then snacking on it all the way around the store. Toward the end of their shopping, he found he was sticking his own hand in the bag of Reese’s Pieces she’d chosen and mowing down himself. He wondered what other odd little quirks she had. All those things that made her uniquely Buffy-- as if she wasn’t unique enough.

They slid back into easy conversation, though there was a strained undercurrent. He hated it, and he didn’t know what to do to change it.

By the time they’d made it back to her place, Spike admitted to himself one fact that had been glaringly obvious to him from the start: He was wildly attracted to Buffy. And it wasn’t that she was gorgeous with a killer body, what he imagined was silky hair and skin, no, it was just her. The more he learned, the more he liked. The more he liked, the more he wanted to learn. The more he learned, the more he liked, and then the more he wanted to learn… It was a vicious cycle that was not befitting a cop with a job to do.

Though he’d be damned if Finn was going to do it. Or anyone else for that matter. Even if the longer he spent in her presence, the more he wanted her and fantasized about having her.

He was going to have to find a way to relieve that tension. Perhaps for just a couple hours he could have Finn stay with her and he could make up with Anya long enough to relieve some of that tension. . .

The arrival of Buffy’s parents later that evening set Spike even more on edge than he already was. Her mother, a petite woman with shoulder length bouncy hair that reminded him of Buffy’s, and welcoming eyes that also reminded him of Buffy, had a domineering, protective streak in her that did not remind him of Buffy. Spike could see Joyce, as was her mother’s name, smiling while cutting you down to size at the same time. Underhanded comments served with a smile.

Hank, her father, was more relaxed. He was a stocky gentleman that had eyes the same hue as Buffy’s and a smile that welcomed everyone around him to smile as well. Just like Buffy. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and Spike took an instant liking to him.

Upon their arrival, Joyce had eyed him like a hawk, and Hank had stuck out his hand, introducing himself. Buffy seemed nervous, and all Spike wanted to do was calm her. He didn’t like seeing her tense for he fed off it, and became tense himself. He stood right by her side, hoping to give her some strength.

Unless of course she opted not to tell them about the break-in. In which case, that’d be fine with him. Sure enough, when Buffy had settled them in the living room and wisely gave them each a glass of Merlot, and then told them what happened with the break in, Joyce started squawking and flinging accusations and snide remarks Spike’s way. She started with “How just protective the cops were in this town”, and “Did they not realize her daughter needed around the clock supervision?” and “Were they all just a bunch of louses that felt the need to sleep on the job instead of doing their job?” and “Did they not realize her tax dollars paid them?” Just when she was demanding Spike’s credentials in taking care of her daughter, Buffy put cease fire to Mama Bear Joyce. Hank told his wife to calm down and got a “Shut up, Hank” for his trouble. Instead, he sent an apologetic look to Buffy and Spike and sat back.

Hank knew the drill, and he knew he’d have no say, Spike figured. Just like a woman. They claimed they had no rights, they claimed it was a “Man’s world”, but when you got down to it, it was the woman who ran the show, or at least tried to run the show. All the whipped men in the world just bowed down to their ladies, and for what? For the promise of sex? For some chicken soup when they were sick? Screw that, Spike thought bitterly. I don’t need anyone to take care of me, and I sure as hell don’t need some bird telling me what to do. That’ll be the day when I bow down to any woman.

“Spike, I’d like to speak with my parents alone for a bit. Why don’t you go out for a little while?” Buffy said imploringly.

He didn’t want to leave Buffy alone with Mama Bear to make her feel as though she couldn’t take care of herself. He felt he owed it to Buffy to tell her mother how strong she was and how she was doing great at taking care of herself. She was a resourceful woman and her mother needed to know that. Buffy was kind and generous and sweet and…and nothing like her overbearing mother.

Sensing his hesitancy, she said, “It’s okay.”

He nodded slowly, eyed Joyce, and left, giving Finn and Gunn a heads up.

Time for relief.

********

“Mom—“ Buffy started.

“Buffy, come stay with us. We’ll get around the clock watch and maybe pull some strings to get a real detective in on this case. Your father knew someone in New York that—“

“No, Mom,” Buffy said firmly.

“Buffy, you cannot think about staying here. Not after what happened. How can you think of staying here? How can you feel safe?”

“Honestly, I didn’t feel safe at first last night—“

“And that cop,” Joyce said, grimacing. She said ‘cop’ as if it were a dirty word. “Does he do anything but grunt? How can you stand it? They’re all so…barbaric.”

“Oh, and Parker was so much better,” Buffy snapped.

“Parker was a gentleman!”

“Parker was fucking Gwen on a pool table!”

Her mother’s jaw dropped, horrified, and Hank cleared his throat, motioning his hand across his throat in a signal to Buffy to knock it off.

“Did you learn that language from Spike?” Joyce demanded.

“His real name is William, if you must know, mother,” Buffy sighed. Her mother had the uncanny ability to drain the life out of her.

“He has to go,” Joyce said with finality.

“No!,” Buffy said forcefully. “He’s not going anywhere.”

*********

“What the hell do you want?”

Spike put on his best heart-melting grin and leaned casually in the doorway, looking up from underneath his long lashes. “Come on, Anya. Don’t be like that.”

********

“Buffy, don’t—“

“Don’t what? Don’t fight you? Don’t argue with you? Don’t ‘be ridiculous’? God, Mother…just…just back off. You’ve done nothing but coddle me my entire life. Thank God Angel was there to help me figure things out on my own, or you’d just have someone do everything for me for the rest of my life! I let you set me up with Parker and look how well that turned out! But you don’t want to see that, do you? Because it doesn’t fit into your world, and in your mind, so it’s best to just ignore the fact that he was a two timing creep and instead focus on the cop that has been here doing everything he can to make sure I feel safe. So, you know what I’d like for you to do? Butt out. I just want you to butt out and let me live my life. Let me take care of this on my own mother. I can take care of myself.”

Joyce stared at her in shock, and Buffy braced herself. Would she start screaming or threaten to ‘take it all away’ as she so often did when Buffy challenged her?

Instead, she straightened her gait, puffed out her chest and lifted her head haughtily. “Fine then. You take care of yourself. Don’t call me when you end up dead.” And she stalked off. Buffy had to bite back her laughter at that.

Hank stood, looking worried and yet proud. He came over and gave Buffy a big hug, holding her tight. Pulling back, he said, “Do you want me to send your mother home and I’ll stay here with you until Spike gets back?”

“Thank you, Dad. I’m fine right now. I’ll ask either Riley or Gunn to come in with me.”

Hank winced.

“What?”

“Your mother is beckoning me. Call me if you need anything, pumpkin, okay? I worry about you.”

“I will Dad, promise.”

Giving her one last peck on the forehead, he left.

Buffy felt good. Real good. She’d told off her mother and it felt fantastic. She couldn’t wait to tell Spike. But first, she had to get Riley or Gunn until he came back.

Anya glared at Spike. “You’re not coming in.”



“Come on, baby,” he purred, reaching out to touch her. She slapped his hand, hard, away. “Bloody hell, Anya, that actually hurt!”



“Good! You deserve it. I told you you’d regret the day you shoved me around, William Giles! I’ve had it. You have an itch you want to scratch? Fine, then scratch it with that bimbo you’re staying with.”



Spike growled. “She’s not—“ But the door was slammed in his face before he could finish.



Sighing heavily, figuring he didn’t have a shot in hell at getting laid, at least by Anya, and feeling he had to get back to Buffy – not to mention feeling guilty for trying with Anya – Spike headed back to Casa de Summers.



*********



When Spike saw that Buffy’s parent’s car was no longer in the driveway, he felt guilty. He’d only been gone an hour, but still. Buffy shouldn’t have been home alone for that long. He supposed she could have called Finn or Gunn in – and that thought, the thought of Finn inside with her, sent him racing through the alarm access code and jetting up the stairs.



He heard her laughter, Finn’s voice, and then Buffy shouting, “Go! Run! Get him!”



Curious, Spike slowly made his way to the living room and peered in without letting them know he was there. He found Buffy and Finn watching football. Buffy watched football? Course, it wasn’t the same football he grew up with and was accustomed to, but his time in the States had eased him into liking the American sport.



And seeing Buffy get into the game was a surprise and a turn on to boot. Anya hated sports of any kind. She would nag and complain that she wanted to go out when he wanted to stay home and watch the game.



Buffy was avidly watching, her luscious bottom on the edge of the couch cushion, a Patriots hat on, her hair jutting out in a pony tail at the space in the back. She was so…adorable.



What he didn’t like was Finn, hovering close by, smiling at her like a rambunctious puppy.



“Finn,” Spike drawled, coming into the room. “You can go now.” He didn’t take his gaze off Buffy as he strolled over to her, meaning to take Finn’s spot on the couch.



She looked up when he came into her peripheral. She smiled brightly. “Hi!”



He chuckled at her exuberance. “Hi. What are you doing?”



“I’m watching the game! And, the Pats are winning. Naturally.”



“Pet, they’re a New England team, right? Shouldn’t you be rooting for the Raiders or San Francisco?”



She wrinkled her nose. “No. See, my Dad is originally from New England, so growing up it was all about the Patriots and all about the Red Sox. He didn’t watch much hockey or basketball, so those were the two games I grew up watching and learning about, and those were the teams I became fans of.”



Spike smiled down at her. Yet another new thing he learned about her, and another new thing he loved. He slowly turned to Finn, feeling he very much couldn’t take his eyes off Buffy. “Finn. I told you to go.”



“The game is almost—“



“Go!”



“Spike, surely he can stay until the game is over,” Buffy reasoned.



“He can listen to it in the car.”



“Spike!” Buffy jumped up. “You’re being rude.”



“I don’t care. Get out of here Finn.”



Glaring, Riley stood until he was just about eye level to him. Problem was, he was a bit taller and Spike knew it. Although, he knew Riley meant to make him look like a ponce by being taller, Spike kept his cold hard gaze steady on him. He wasn’t one to back down, and he wasn’t one to be made to feel intimidated.



Riley seemed to realize he wasn’t going to win this round and with a grumble, he cleared out.



Buffy was glaring at him when Spike turned his attention back to her.



“What?” he asked innocently, knowing full well why she was so mad.



“Why do you have to be such a jerk?”



“I wasn’t. I was getting him back to his post. He was the one being the jerk trying to make me feel all less of a man by being taller than me.”



“Get back to his post…” she muttered. “You left, remember!” she shouted.



“You told me to!” he shouted back.



“There’s two minutes left to the game. He could have stayed.”



“Well, I didn’t want him to!”



She shook her head. “You’re a child.”



“I am? What about you? You’re living under Mommy and Daddy’s thumb—“



“I do not live under their thumb!”



“Don’t you? This house is really theirs isn’t it? What did you have to promise Mama Bear to get her off your back tonight? ”



Jumping up, Buffy slapped him hard across the face, causing his head to snap to the side. He felt shock first. Then instantly felt guilty for having pushed her to that. He looked back at her to see her shaking in anger.



“You’re an asshole,” she said and marched off.



Sighing heavily, he took a deep breath and sat down. This was an apology he didn’t want to fuck up. Buffy deserved more than just a shoddy “I’m sorry.”



She deserved…



She deserved everything.



And he couldn’t give her any of that could he?



********



He found her in the library/study, hunched over her desk, writing furiously in what appeared to be a journal. Coming up slowly, he realized she must have felt his presence because she froze and put her pen down.



“What?”



Yep, she felt him.



He came round and looked at her. “Pretty good trick you got there, pet.”



She looked up at him, annoyed. “Well, you know what they say about losing one of your senses…”



“The others are enhanced, I remember.”



“What do you want?”



“To apologize,” he said, perching himself on the desk.



She sat back, eyeing him. “You know…you don’t know anything about me. You think you do, but you don’t.”



“I want to know more.”



“Then maybe you should try asking instead of flinging accusations about things you know nothing about.”



“I’m sorry, Buffy, I really am,” he said earnestly, hoping to convey with everything in him that he was truly sorry.



She sighed, “Apology accepted.” She eyed him, scrutinizing him. “As much as you try to have a hard shell, Spike, you actually do have feelings, you just don’t want to admit to them.”



“That’s quite an assumption,” he said, stiffening. “I could say the same about not knowing anything about me, pet.”



“I watch people, Spike. That whole thing about the other senses being enhanced? I have to watch people to learn what mood they’re in; how they feel…that way I can be in tune to them, especially useful since I can’t hear their tone when they’re talking to me. If you didn’t have feelings, you wouldn’t slept in my room last night, you wouldn’t have slept in my bed –“



“I get it, Buffy, all right?” Spike snapped at her. “How is it that I come in here to apologize and this becomes about me?”



“Because I find you fascinating, I suppose. I want to know what makes you tick and what got you so riled up earlier to insult me the way you did. ”



“Fascinating? Me?” he balked. “Whatever for?” And what got him riled up earlier? It was fucking Finn in your living room hanging all over you, that’s what got me riled up. Git tried to show me up in front of you. And then you defended him!.



“Because you’re different than I am.”



“Oh, a cop with dirty hands, that it? Attracted to the darker side of life, pet?”



“That what you want me to think?”



“What is this? Psych 101?”



“You’ve led a different life than I have Spike, but a lot of people have. I’ve always felt on the outside growing up and it wasn’t until Parker that I started to feel I was getting a taste of the world outside this house and my overbearing mother. I don’t mean to insult you when I say I find you fascinating. I just mean that …you’re interesting to me.”



God, how could he resist this woman? And how was it that her simple explanation could bring him to his knees? He felt more and more that he wasn’t worthy of her. So, why he got up, leaned over her, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her languidly, wanting to taste every inch of her, was beyond him.

Buffy’s only registered thought when Spike started kissing her was “hummana, hummana, hummana…” God, this was a fantastic feeling. Heady. Thrilling. Her body had a mind of its own, and she grabbed his leather bomber jacket and pulled him closer to her.

He tasted of cigarettes, liquor and Spike…just heavenly, blissful, and all male, all Spike. A girl could get used to this! He kissed her as if he knew how she always wanted to be kissed. He all but devoured her. Of course he kissed with such passion, he didn’t do anything without passion.

She was drunk on him, that was the only way to describe it, but oh man, how could any girl in her right mind, not be drunk on him? He was divine! No wonder Anya—Crap.

She stopped the kiss, pulling her head back. His eyes popped open and met hers, questioning.

“Anya,” she said simply.

His head dropped and she could only imagine that he groaned at the same time. It seemed fitting at least. His head popped back up and sat back on the desk, running a hand through his hair. “That was wrong of me.”

Wrong? It was wrong? It was only wrong in her mind because of Anya – Buffy did not fancy being “the other woman” or any form of a passing time girl. But surely he didn’t mean it was wrong in any other way…right? She waited, holding her breath, for his explanation.

“I shouldn’t be kissing you, Buffy, I’m sorry. That wasn’t professional of me—“

“And what of Anya?” she pressed, not wanting to hear about how it wasn’t professional and all that other crap that took the wind out of her sails.

He blinked. “What about her?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re still with her…?”

“No, it’s well and truly over now.”

“Oh?” Now?

“Yeah…trust me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed…nervous. He kept forgetting she could read body language and sense these mood changes. Not to mention, the “now” implied he knew something now that he didn’t know before.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you spoken with her lately to end it?”

His head shot up. “What?”

“Anya, have you spoken with – you saw her tonight, didn’t you!”

He winced. Caught!

Her small victory over figuring it out soon gave way to feeling completely sick. Had they--? Or had they not because he was saying it was over? Why did he go over there…Oh God. No, he didn’t. He went there to end it. That was it…right? No goodbye screws…but he was looking guilty…

“I don’t want to know,” she blurted out, and jumped up, dashing out of the library and down the hall to her room.

She let out an ‘Eep’ when Spike grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. He looked so intense, his eyes boring into her, trying to make her see something…Man, he was hot. And when had she become a tramp? She was acting like a hormonal teenage girl with her first crush. So unlike her.

Or maybe it was just lying dormant and Spike was the one bringing it out of her. She was like Snow White and he was Prince Charming (and wouldn’t he balk at that!) bringing her back to life with a hot kiss.

Well, in actuality, if any fairy tale befitted them, it was probably Rapunzel.

“Buffy, I—“

“Spike, it’s okay. I mean, a man has needs, right?”

He shook his head, shutting his eyes tight. “Buffy, I…” His eyes popped open and her heart stopped. God, what was he going to say? The suspense was killing her. He released her. “I’m sorry.” And he walked away from her.

She stared at his retreating form, stunned. Sorry for…? For kissing her? For Anya? He shouldn’t be sorry about Anya for her, he should be sorry about Anya for Anya. She was the one he “broke up” with.

She wanted to stop him and ask him what it was he was thinking, what he was sorry for and hope that it wasn’t that he hated kissing her. But she couldn’t. She stood rooted to the spot, her pride bruised. There really wasn’t anything left for her to do except go to bed. Alone.

********

Spike was ashamed of himself. He was a right git, a bastard really. The look of hurt on Buffy’s face when she put two and two together and figured out where he’d gone that night was enough to send him begging for forgiveness on his knees.

She felt something for him. She had to to have had that reaction. And, he didn’t get it. Why him? How? He was a loner and a louse. He was good at his job, but not much else. He wasn’t exactly known for his great “people skills”. His relations with women were nothing but sexual; he didn’t have the time nor the patience for that other stuff. Not to mention the fact that his dear mother and his once upon a time girlfriend had pretty much ruined him when it came to relationships. He’d learned from them that women could be cold-hearted bitches. He toyed with the idea of being a low grade misogynist; though if any woman could break him of that, it would be Buffy. She wasn’t cold-hearted, and she wasn’t a bitch. Though, he was sure given enough time…

God, Buffy. . . she moved something inside him. She made his cold heart drip from her warmth. She made him rethink things. A woman in her position, he figured she’d let herself be coddled and taken care of. Hell, he probably would. She didn’t though. She fought back, she lived life. She had a hunger for life, and a thirst for knowledge that reminded him of himself once upon a time. Problem was, he’d seen too much and experienced too much. He’d lost his childlike innocence and his hunger for life. He’d gotten to a standstill, only he hadn’t known he was there until Buffy came into his life and brought things out in him that he didn’t know he had.

Damn her.

When she reached out to him, he recoiled. Tonight, she’d told him how she found him fascinating and his back had gone up. What did she want from him? What were her plans for him? She didn’t want anything from him though. She only wanted to learn more about him because she found him interesting. And the reason why she found him so interesting? Because he was opposite of her.

So, what was the wrong in that?

He wasn’t sure, but if he thought long and hard enough about it, he was sure he could find something.

********

Buffy came down the stairs the next morning with her belly tied in knots. What would the morning bring? Would they forget the kiss? Would they act as if nothing happened? Would Spike ask for someone else to stay with her? All options made Buffy tense with worry. As much as she knew it was probably wrong to have feelings for Spike, she could not help it; she did and it was as simple and as complicated as that.

Entering the kitchen, she found Spike already up and on his cell phone. He looked grim. He was facing her, but was not looking at her; he seemed completely lost in whatever was being said on the other end. Coming closer to him, he looked up and met her eyes. His eyes filled with concern. For her? She questioned him with a tilt of her head. Saying a quick goodbye to the person on the other end of the phone, he clicked his phone shut and looked up at her.

“Buffy, luv…”

“What?” she asked, worried. Did he ask to leave her? Was he finding it hard to break the news to her? She certainly hoped so if that was the case. She hoped he found it as hard to leave her as she would find him leaving—

“The robbers that broke in…they were found.”

Buffy held her breath, feeling trepidation and relief at the same time. “Oh? And are they linked to the murder?”

“Hard to say,” he said, frowning.

“Why?”

“They’re dead.”

Buffy’s mouth dropped. “What?”

“They’re dead. They were brothers. Well, three were and one was just a friend. Seemed they made their living this way, and they all lived together in the same house on the other side of town.”

“How did they die? How were they found?”

“Fingerprints. The lost art. They weren’t apparently very bright thieves.”

“They wore gloves though,” Buffy said, frowning.

“Not when they dismantled the alarm and the cameras. Or put their hands on the garage door, and the basement door….They were tracked down, only by the time the cops made it down there, they’d already been murdered.”

“Murdered? How?” Buffy whispered.

“Shot in the chest.”

Buffy felt sick.

“Buffy, luv, it’s all right.” He took her hand and led her to the table, pulled out a chair for her and made her sit, kneeling before her, he took her hand in his and squeezed it.

“How do they know that all of them were thieves? I mean, it’s conceivable that not all of them were.”

“They were all thieves, Buffy. They had a shitload of garbage they’d obviously stolen and a couple of them had warrants out for their arrest already.”

“So, they used gloves in those houses?” Buffy joked lightly, feeling light-headed.

Spike chuckled, “Yeah, they got cocky most likely. Hit so many houses and got away with it that they didn’t think. It just takes one slip to end a lifetime of crime.”

“I don’t feel so well.”

“Baby, what is it?”

Had she been feeling better, she might have responded to the ‘baby’, but after hearing about her robber’s demise she felt ill.

“I just…I know they’re criminals and they need to be taken care of, but I didn’t wish death on them. I just wanted them to be caught and brought to justice, not to be murdered…I don’t, I don’t get it. As silly as it sounds, it’s like everyone that comes in contact with me, ends up dying. Do they know who did it?”

“No, they don’t. Not yet. Probably friends who were thugs that wanted a cut of something. That’s the way it always is with criminals like that.”

“Any leads?”

“Buffy, luv, relax.”

“Spike, I just don’t like this. I feel like death is all around me…”

He hated seeing her so distraught. She was positively trembling and she’d grown considerably paler. He could see how she might feel the way she did, but it was also far-fetched. They were criminals, with most likely, criminal friends. And those criminal friends were probably the ones that did it.

From her angle though, he supposed he could see how she made the links. First her boyfriend and so-called best friend, and then a short time after that, the thieves that rob her home are murdered.

“Luv, come on, how about we go out for breakfast, hmmm? Let’s get you out of here and into some fresh air, all right?”

She looked up at him, slightly dazed. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“Not at all.”

“Do you think it’s possible that they’re still linked to Parker and Gwen?”

“I thought you didn’t think they were to begin with.”

“I didn’t, but I still hoped. If they were part of it then we’d be closer to finding out who the killer is.”

“Buffy, we will find who did it. We will, pet, I promise.”

She nodded slowly, meeting his eyes. He stood abruptly, the urge to hold her overwhelming him. Tugging on her hand, he encouraged her to stand. “Let’s go. Come on, we’re gonna get some breakfast. My treat.”

“Spike, you don’t have to—“

“Hush,” he said lightly, smiling and leaning in slightly. Big mistake. One look into her gorgeous green eyes and he was lost. His gaze dropped to her glossed lips and he felt himself losing a battle he knew he had to keep.

Stepping away, he smiled again, confidently. Her purse was on the counter and he handed it to her as he led her down to the basement. This was just what they needed. Time out in public away from temptation.


*********

She had an appetite, Buffy did. Out at the local IHOP, Buffy ordered waffles with whipped cream and strawberries, and then asked for extra strawberries and toast. He found it funny that she asked for wheat bread. What was the point after all the waffles; strawberries dipped in sugar and whipped cream? But hey, that was his Buffy.

No…not his.

“Spike?” Buffy asked uncertainly as she took in a mouthful of waffles.

“Yes?” he asked, sipping his stronger than hell coffee.

“Um, can you tell me more about your stepfather?”

“Sergeant Rayne?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I’m curious.”

“Don’t start with that again.”

She gave him a dirty look.

“Pet, it’s not important,” he said, feeling guilty for bringing last night to her attention.

“Fine.”

It was anything but fine, Spike could tell that.

He heaved a sigh, “All right.” Except, she wasn’t looking at him, she was focusing intently on her breakfast, at the people next to them, at the people across the room from him – basically anywhere that was not him.

Putting his hand on hers, he stared at her, waiting for her to look at him. She did after some time and he could tell it was with great reluctance. “Yes?”

“Sergeant Rayne married my mother a month after my father died.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ The corpse wasn’t even cold yet and they’d …they’d been carrying on behind my father’s back for years.”

“How did they meet?”

“Rayne was adopted into the family when he was a boy by my grandparents. He came over to the States a few years after my father to see if he too could find a new life here.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped, “So, he’s your uncle too?”

“Unfortunately. You could say I’m a poor man’s Hamlet. Rayne found what he wanted all right….my father’s wife. My darling mother.”

“Oh Spike…”

“Look, don’t be feeling sorry for me all right?” Spike snapped.

“Stop being such an ass,” she snapped right back, shocking the hell out of him. “It’s not that I feel sorry for you. It’s that it’s a horrible situation to have to be in; I can see how angry you are about it. Anyone would be. There’s nothing wrong with someone sympathizing with your situation, Spike. If we all went around not caring at all about others, then what kind of world would we live in?”

Spike stared at her, feeling something prickling behind his eyes that felt uncharacteristically like tears. How was that possible?

“Did your father ever find out?” Buffy continued, as if that little outburst had not happened.

Spike cleared his throat, “No, he never did.”

“Well, at least there’s that, right? How did your father die?”

“Heart attack.”

“Was he a cop too?”

“Yes. He had Rayne’s place.”

“My God. No wonder you hate him. How long ago did this happen?”

“A year ago my father died.”

“Ever consider moving?”

Spike barked out a laugh at her innocent question. “I have. But…I got my niche there, you know? Besides, I’m horrible at saving money and I make crap. You’ve seen my apartment. It’s a shithole—“

“Spike, it’s really not that bad. You just don’t decorate.”

He guffawed, “That’s a girl thing to do.”

Cocking her head to the side, she gave him an ‘oh really?’ look. “That’s the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard you say. Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean you can’t decorate. I’m not saying you have to go out and buy fluffy bath mats or anything, but you could put up pictures of things that interest you. My brother has an appreciation for art, so he likes to gather pieces of art that catch his eye.”

“He gay?”

“Are you a child? No, he's not gay. He has a girlfriend as a matter of fact.”

“That doesn’t mean much.” He really didn’t mean that comment, but seeing her get riled up was fun to watch. Now, he was pretty much just goading her.

“Shut up, Spike,” she said, bristling and going back to her breakfast.

He laughed and put his hand under her chin, making her look at him. “Pet, I’m just kidding. I was just trying to get you going.”

She batted his hand away. “Just because your mother was awful in what she did to your father, and just because you flit around thinking it’s all right to treat women like a piece of meat, and just because you’ve seen things that most haven’t, and just because you’re jaded because of all of that, it does not make you an authority on anything, Spike. As far as I can see, you’ve got a lot to learn about life.”

Spike sat there, completely gobsmacked. In less than 24 hours, she had filled him with desire, made him feel like world class dick, filled him with desire again, made him feel like a dick again, made him want to hold her and never let her go and now…now he was back to feeling like a dick. So, he mused, this is what it feels like to be put in your place. He didn’t like that feeling. He hated it. And it didn’t happen often, either.
Even on Anya’s best day, she failed to make him feel anything but annoyed. When he said callous things like that in front of her, her method of dealing with it was to scream and nag. He couldn’t decide which she sounded like after a while: the adults in the Peanuts cartoons, or Dino on The Flinstones.

Little Buffy Summers though, with a few carefully crafted words had managed to verbally slap him. Well, he conceded, I did insult her brother. He knew family (except for his) was a line one did not cross. It angered him that she was able to do that to him, but at the same time, how could he really be angry with her? It wasn’t as if what she said wasn’t true, he just wasn’t going to admit it. Instead, he sat there mutely, trying to keep his conflicting emotions under control.

“Do you mind if we stop at the grocery store? I have a craving for mangos. I’m thinking I’m going to put them in the fruit salad I’m going to make,” Buffy continued, not missing a beat.

God, how did she dothat? That was another thing he was learning from her. Bumps in the road were just that, bumps. And once you got over the bump, you continued on. Did he do that? Or did he just sit at the bottom of that little bump and wallow in it, allowing himself to be beaten down? Considering the fact that he was pouting, sulking really, he figured that had to be his answer.

Damn her.

“Sure,” he mumbled by way of reply, not even bothering to look at her when he said it.

She touched his arm. “What did you say?”

Looking up at her, he felt another slap. God, how could be angry with her? Look at her, so beautiful, so sweet and so…right.. He cleared his throat. “I said, sure.”

She smiled at him and nodded. “Thank you.”

*********

After a quick trip to the grocery store, she asked if they could stop by the book store, and he obliged. They split up and he found himself in the poetry section, feeling like a ponce. He kept darting a glance to see if anyone was watching him. Pulling some Plath off the shelf, he engrossed himself in trying to decode her.

“So, my brother is gay for liking art. You like poetry –what does that make you Mr. Stereotype?”

He froze. He just had to head for poetry. Bloody ponce… When he turned, he found her bubbling over with mirth.

“Spike, you really are full of contradictions, aren’t you?”

He glared at her, “Look—“

“Spike, relax. I think it definitely shows a softer side that you like poetry. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I think it’s sexy.” She slid the comment in so easily with a sly wink, and before Spike could even respond, she was asking who he was reading. Thus began a conversation about poetry. Buffy admitted she hadn’t read much poetry, but liked a few of the Romantics and Victorians, and Spike launched into discussing his favorites and why. She listened to him with rapt attention as they walked around the bookstore, and he felt like a God. The only other person he’d been able to talk poetry with, well, two people, was his father and his ex. She had taught him a lot about it, he had to give her credit there. And that’s pretty much where it ended.

“You’d be a great teacher,” Buffy mused.

He blinked, “You think so?”

She nodded adamantly, “Oh yes, you would. And you know what’s really cute?”

“What?” he asked, not sure if wanted to be likened to ‘cute’, but somehow coming from Buffy it worked, and made him feel even more like a God.

“How animated you get when you talk about it. You really like poetry and it shows.”

“I got into in college, but I wanted to be a cop like my dad, so I didn’t pursue it any further. My ex, Drusilla, she was an English major. She taught me a lot.”

“I’ve never heard about her,” Buffy said, settling down on the puffy green-striped couch in the middle of the bookstore.

He shrugged, sitting down next to her, and turning his body towards hers. “That’s because I don’t like to talk about her.”

“May I ask what happened?”

“She was my first love. My last love.”

“Your only love?” Buffy teased.

He had to grin. He did make it seem so grim. “Well, I don’t know about that,” he drawled. “She would always tell me how I was the love of her life, her Prince Charming…problem was, she was telling at least four other guys the same thing.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Spike muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Hey, look at the bright side.”

“What’s that?”

Buffy grinned. “At least you didn’t witness her getting her head blown off while she was cheating on you.”

Spike barked out a laugh. “You have a twisted sense of humor, Summers.”

She shrugged, “Can’t help it.”

“Buffy…how is it that you don’t mourn Parker?”

“How do you know I don’t?”

“I’ve never seen you do it.”

“Just because I don’t cry at every moment doesn’t mean I don’t mourn him.”

“Do you then? Mourn him?”

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…I mourn that he had to die that way. I mourn that he had to die at all. I think it’s horrible what happened to him and no matter what, he didn’t deserve it. But, I guess my problem is that I feel guilty.”

“For what?”

“For never having loved him. I feel like I should feel more for his death, and I don’t. I feel like somehow my life should be on hold and I should be that grieving girlfriend that pines and wallows…but I don’t. I feel like that makes me an awful person.”

“I don’t think it makes you awful. You can’t control how you feel about another.”

“Don’t I know it,” she muttered.

“And what of Gwen?”

Buffy sighed, “Oh, that’s a good question. Gwen had been my best friend for so long and…” she shook her head. “I never thought she’d do something like that to me. I think I spent most of my life being jealous of her.”

“Why?” he asked incredulously. He found it hard to believe Buffy being jealous of anyone, which seemed sort of funny to him to think.

“Because she was so…audacious. Everyone flocked to her. She was always the center of attention. She was beautiful and had all the boys wrapped. I was always the one they came to for advice on her. I was the one that became ‘one of the guys’, their best friends, while they lusted after Gwen. I loved her, but I resented her. I wanted to be in the spotlight too once in a while. I have mixed emotions about her demise. On the one hand, I mourn her because I knew her for so long and I loved her like a sister, and on the other hand, I’m so angry with her for doing that to me. And that’s the thing with Parker too. Coupled with the guilt I feel for not mourning him as I should, I am so angry at him for doing what he did. He used me…he used me and I let him. I get so angry when I really stop and think about it and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not like I can let them know. It’s not like I can gain any closure for it.”

“Jesus, and here I am wallowing in my own shit,” Spike, said, shaking his head.

“Everyone has problems, Spike. It doesn’t make your problems any less when you find out about someone else’s. It just reminds you that you’re not alone in having them. And as sick as it sounds, it’s comforting. When you feel all alone in your problems, you feel isolated, but being able to share them and hear about others’ problems, it makes you feel less alone.”

“So, you’re saying I should open up more?”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.” She jumped up. “You know, as far as Dru’s concerned…and your mom…Women always say that it’s always the men that do stuff like that, but it’s not true. Just as there are bad men in this world, there are bad women too. I’d like to think though that for every bad person out there, there is someone nice to make up for it. I mean, look at you this morning. There I was feeling sick about those robbers getting killed and you took me out. You wanted to make me feel better.”

“It doesn’t erase what happened.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it makes me feel better to know that someone was there for me.”

Spike gazed up at her, thinking she had to be an angel. His angel, perhaps.

“Come on,” she said grinning and holding out her hand to help him up. “I want to go for a run now.”

Riley ran over when Spike and Buffy arrived back from their trip out. Touching Buffy’s arm in what he probably figured was a comforting manner, but in Spike’s eyes was just annoying, he made possibly the most callous remark that even Spike would never have said.

“Do you feel better knowing that you’re safer now from the robbers, Buffy?”

Buffy’s expression was one of pure shock and horror. She stood there, mouth open, aghast.

Spike stepped forward. “First of all, how the hell do you know about that and secondly, that was just wrong, mate.”

Riley paled, looking at Buffy and started making like a guppy. “The Sarge called, that’s how.”

“Why was he calling you for? He only wanted me to know for now so I could break the news to Buffy.”

“Well, Gunn and I are the ones watching the place, Spike. Of course he’d want us to know.”

“Yeah, eventually, not now... Great, fucking bastard…” Spike muttered.

“I’m just going to go inside now,” Buffy murmured darted off, not even bothering to spare a glance behind her.

“You’re a moron, you know that?” Spike told Riley quite bluntly. “How could you say something so rude? Do you think Buffy was happy to have learned they’re dead?”

“I didn’t mean it that way…I just meant that…” Riley shook his head. “Crap, that came out all wrong.”

“Yeah, maybe you should go back to your post and think about what you did,” Spike said, shooing him with his hand. Glaring at him, Riley turned and walked away like a dog with his tail between his legs.

*********

“You all right, pet?” Spike asked, touching her arm gently. Buffy looked up at him, noting how it didn’t annoy her when Spike touched her like that, but it annoyed her to no end when Riley did it.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, “I just don’t get why he said that. I mean…I can understand a person feeling happy that their thieves had been caught, but to say something like my being happy they were dead? That was just…”

“Wrong.”

“Right.”

“He’s just…he’s an oaf. A gigantic, bumbling oaf. And I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but he didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. I think he was really trying to be nice. But Riley tries way too hard.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose, “Yeah, he does.” Shaking her head, she heaved a big sigh and clapped her hands together. “So. Want to go for that run now?”

Spike grinned. “Do you ever stop?”

“I do, but I don’t feel like it today.”

Cocking his head to the side, Spike eyed her curiously. “Running from something, pet?”

“No,” she shook her head, causing her ponytail to slap her in the face. “I’d like to think I’m running to something.”

“And what would that be?”

“Peace of mind.”

*********

Spike always thought he was in fair shape. He could chase down a thief if the situation called for it, and with minimal huffing and puffing, but he was finding that running with Buffy was difficult. He figured chasing a thief had more to do with adrenaline than being in shape. Plus, it didn’t help that he smoked, though he hadn’t done that much since being at Buffy’s. He’d occasionally pop out for a cigarette, but it wasn’t as often as when he was at home.

After stopping the third time to catch his breath, he found he had a cramp forming in his side. Buffy pulled him to the side of the road in a patch of grass, and had him sit down. She got behind him and had him lean back into her, rubbing the area that was hurting him with just enough pressure with the palm of her hand.

Spike could feel her breasts pressing up against his back and could feel her warmth permeating through him. He had a vision of spinning around and tackling her to the ground, pounding into her right on the side of the road for all to see.

He lurched forward, “It’s good now.”

“Spike?”

He knew if he turned around, he’d likely pounce on her, so he stood to gain some distance, and turned to her. “I’m good.”

She smiled, “Okay.”

“Can we…you know…”

“Go back?”

He sighed, “Yeah.”

She giggled, “Sure. Want to just walk back now?”

He sagged in relief, “Yeah, please.”

“Maybe tomorrow, we can make it all the way to two miles,” she teased.

********

Spike was feeling something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling: at home, and at peace. When they’d gotten back from their run, they’d dropped off to their respective rooms and taken showers, and while Buffy putzed around the house for a while, Spike watched TV. So comfortable was he, that he fell asleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, only that he knew he shouldn’t have done that. Scratching his belly, he meandered into the kitchen and found Buffy making her fruit salad. He smiled watching her mutter to herself and dash here and there to grab the various fruit she had scattered all over. She was so…cute.

She looked up to see him and smiled, “Hi. Have a nice nap?”

He frowned, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Nonsense. If there was trouble, I was here.”

“Yeah, but you can’t…” he broke off.

“Hear them?”

He said nothing.

“Spike, it’s all right. I am aware that I can’t hear them, but I have a new alarm, the cameras are set up and Riley and Gunn are outside.” She shrugged. “It was no big deal.”

“Well, to me it is. If something happened to you on my clock—“

“Spike, it’s okay. I feel much safer with Gunn and Riley out there, and with you in here – asleep or not, than I did with just Angel and Andrew.”

“So, looking good,” he mused, watching her work.

“Yeah, it does—ow!”

Sprinting over, Spike grabbed the knife from Buffy’s hand and pulled her hand to him, checking to see how deep the cut was. It wasn’t bad, but it needed tending.

Pulling her to the sink, Buffy protested. “Spike, I’m fine—“

“Hush. I’m going to fix it.”

She smiled, “I’m fine. You know how many times I’ve cut myself? I’m a menace in the kitchen.”

“No, you’re not. I’ve tasted your food, you’re bloody brilliant.”

“Never knew that everything was flavored with my blood huh?” she giggled.

He gave her a horrified look and she giggled some more. He smiled slowly, broadly, as he tended to her cut, washing it, wrapping it in a paper towel and making her stay put while he went in hunt for a band aid.

She watched him tend to her, silently, and mused how tender he could be when he wanted to be. He was quite chivalrous, and that went beyond his serve and protect motto as a cop. Nothing said he had to go above and beyond just watching her house. Nothing said he had to sleep in her room to drive away the nightmares, or tend to her wounds or make her breakfast or even take her out. For all intents and purposes, all he had to do was just stay there. He could be the proverbial bump on a log, just keeping post. At times she sensed he wanted to do just that, but he wasn’t one to stay quiet and still for long. She liked to think that she had some pull on him, that he enjoyed her company. After today, as a matter of fact, she thought they’d made definite steps towards being friends.

“There,” he said, drawing her finger to his mouth and kissing it lightly. “All better.”

She smiled nervously, thinking of those lips and how they felt on hers the night before. It wasn’t until now that she felt there was an elephant in the room. It could be her reaction to his touch, and his caring. He really wasn’t looking at her as hotly as she thought, was he? It didn’t escape her that no matter how confident she could be in some areas, this was the one area she lost all of her confidence.

“So,” he said, scratching his head and looking around. “You made dessert, so how about I make dinner?”

“What are you going to make?”

“Well, I was thinking I could make pasta. The kind my father taught me to make, from scratch. You got tomato sauce and tomatoes?”

“Oooh…that sounds good already.”

He grinned. “If you stick around, I’ll teach you.”

“I’d like that. Let me grab a pen and paper too…”

“I’ll help you clean up this mess first.”

And so they set to work, cleaning up the kitchen and preparing for dinner. Working side by side, they moved easily and in sync with each other. A few times, they got in one another’s way and they would smile and chuckle, tease one another and move on.

Spike, being the good teacher, and Buffy the model student, they worked together to make their dinner, and when it was all set on the table and ready to go, Buffy brought out the wine.

Buffy was a lightweight when it came to holding her liquor. Spike realized she should have had some more food before she had some wine, because the wine was acting faster than the food could get in her system. The first thing he noticed was how her cheeks became rosy after a few sips, and then how giggly she got. The she started to slightly slur her words.

“What?” she asked, off his grin.

“You’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk.”

“Yeah, you really are.”

“No, I’m really not,” she mocked him and poured herself some more wine. “How many have you had?”

“This is my second and I’m not even through it yet. You’ve have two and you’re about to have your third.”

She gave him a haughty look and turned her head from him, sipping her wine. She turned back to him, placing her glass down and gestured toward the food with a wide smile. “This is really good, Spike.”

He had to chuckle, she was just so damn adorable. “Thanks, pet.”

“Spike?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you call everyone that?”

“Call everyone what?”

“Pet, luv, kitten…do you call everyone that or just me?”

Oh, what a question.

“Well, it’s part of my vocab, but I try to watch it in professional situations.”

“So…this isn’t a professional situation?”

“Oh, it is,” he said on a sigh, “But you bring those endearments out in me.”

She smiled brightly. “Really?”

“Yes, kitten, really.”

“Did you call Anya all those?”

“How about we leave Anya out of this?”

“What about Dru?”

“Her too.”

“Okay.”

Her stream of consciousness was quite amusing, and considering she was well on her way to being completely shit-faced, he was sure he was in for an interesting evening.

********

He’s just so pretty, Buffy thought dreamily, staring at him from across the table. Even the way he chews is perfect…Look at him…munch, munch, munch…swallow…bite…munch, munch, munch, swallow….ooh! Sip of wine! And now he’s smiling at me…love that smile…directed at me.

“Buffy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why don’t you eat some more, huh? How about the garlic bread we made. It’s really good.”

She smiled and nodded, “Okay.”

*********

He had to bite back a laugh. Currently she had her elbow up on the table, her chin in the palm of her hand and she was blatantly staring at him with a dreamy smile on her face. Grabbing the garlic bread, he placed it in front of her and directed her to eat.

Slowly, she grabbed a slice and bit into it with vigor.

“Spike?”

“Yes, luv?”

“Have you had many women?”

That caught him off guard and he shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat. “Uh, well, define ‘many’.”

She wrinkled her adorable nose and waved her hand, dismissively. “Furrrget it. I don’t wanna know anymore.”

“Why? Jealous?” he told himself he asked that to tease her, he even said it in such a light-hearted manner that it could only be taken as a tease, but…yeah, he wasn’t playing fair. He was playing dirty for he really did want to know if she was in fact jealous.

Her honest, matter-of-fact “Yeah,” threw him for a loop. Her sudden retraction in not wanting to know told him as much, but hearing her admit it was a different story altogether.

He was finding the room small, which was laughable considering the Boston Pops could have fit in the room with room to spare, and he was suddenly warm. He gulped down some wine and studied her as she picked at her garlic bread and pasta.

“Spike?”

He grinned, “Yes?”

“Why do guys like virgins?”

He stared at her, “What?”

“Virgins. Why do guys like virgins?”

“You’re not a virgin.”

“Yeah, I know that,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But I was. Parker was fascinated by it.”

“Parker,” Spike drawled, “Was a simpleton.”

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

He shrugged, “It was true, wasn’t it?”

“He was…a man. Can you answer the question?”

“Well, to the best of my knowledge, being a man and all,” he paused while she giggled, “A man is ‘fascinated’ by a woman being virgin because it’s the whole thrill of being the first one in unchartered territory. It’s kind of like Columbus discovering America. He got there first and he was well remembered for it. Plus…a virgin is incredibly tight.”

“Spike!” she admonished.

“You asked,” he pointed out.

“Okay. So…then…if guys like virgins so much, why do they like sluts too?”

Spike heaved a deep sigh. He was partly turned on by the conversation, and partly feeling they were heading into some touchy areas concerning her, Gwen and Parker. She could take this in one of two ways: With a grain of salt, her stream of consciousness bringing her someplace else in a minute, or it could make her incredibly sad and angry.

“Well,” he said carefully, “It’s not that we like ‘sluts’. They’re not the ones we ultimately want to be with.”

“Then why bother?”

“Because unlike a virgin, sluts have experience and will pretty much do anything sexual, and to a man who loves sex, that is exciting. Plus, a guy doesn’t have to work so hard to get a slut in bed because, well, she’s a slut. A virgin though, you have to work a little harder to get in bed. Virgins are also intimidating to a man because they’re so pure and innocent, and while we still want to be the ones to take them out of that, we also feel as if we’re doing an injustice because of how pure and innocent they are.”

She looked at him sadly. “So am I tainted because I’m no longer a virgin?”

He shook his head, “No, baby, no, not at all.” I’m just sorry it had to be Parker that was your first.

“I’m not?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

“Not at all. You know what I think?”

“What?”

“The reason Parker had to settle for Gwen – and that’s what he did, he settled – was because you were too good for him. You’re perfect and she was just a…well, slut.”

Her eyes welled up in tears, despite the fact that that was what he had been trying so hard to avoid. He was up and kneeling before her in an instant, taking her napkin and wiping her tears away gently.

“I just…I just wonder if he was in love with her at least,” she told him as the tears fell. “Maybe I would feel better if I knew that he loved her and just couldn’t tell me because he didn’t want to hurt me….And then I feel like it shouldn’t matter because I wasn’t in love with him anyway, but why couldn’t he love me? What is so wrong with me? Is it because I’m deaf?”

He hated to think it, but if Parker were alive at that moment, he might take a shot at him for making her feel this way. He didn’t want to get forceful in his response, since he felt his anger rise a few thousand notches. They were so incredibly unworthy of her, and somehow they made her feel as if she were unworthy of them. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing, baby, nothing at all. You’re perfect. You’re an angel. He was a bloody git that had no right to touch you—“

“So I am tainted!” she wailed.

“Buffy, no. No, you’re not tainted. You’re still perfect, still a gem—“

“Would you want to have sex with me?”

Spike stared at her, mouth agape. He hadn’t expected that to come out of her mouth, though he wasn’t sure why. It was a perfectly logical question from her standpoint, but he wasn’t prepared for it, and certainly didn’t know how to answer it in a tactful manner. Would he want to have sex with her? He’d wanted to have sex with her a thousand times over already. He wasn’t sure if that was something he could really tell her, and he wasn’t sure if that was something he couldn’t not tell her.

She was looking at him in almost sheer desperation, needing to know the answer to that, in her mind at the moment, it was a life and death question. How could he be anything but honest with her?

“Yes, Buffy, I would want to have sex with you.”

She took a trembling sigh, sat back and threw her hands up in the air. “You’re just saying to pacify me ‘cause I’m drunk!”

All right, so really, it wouldn’t have mattered either way how he answered that apparently, but he was still pretty sure he answered the right way. How could you go wrong with honesty, right?

She stumbled out of her chair and finished off her wine before grabbing the bottle and heading for the living room. Spike followed her, not entirely sure he could leave her long enough to clean up dinner.

She turned to him. “Are you following me?”

“I am,” he said evenly.

“Why?”

“Because I want to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine. I just want to…hey, can we play a game?”

This should be good. “What kind of game?”

“Skeletons in the closet.”

“Haven’t we been playing that already? Pet, maybe we could play something else, like say, checkers.”

“Bo-oring. I want to play Skeletons in the Closet.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I don’t care, I want to.”

So, there was a bossy side to Buffy. Just had to get her drunk to draw it out. Fun, fun.

“Well, maybe we should clean up dinner first?”

She shrugged and headed back to the dining room. “Okay! But don’t think I’m going to forget about playing. We’ll just play while we clean up.”

Can’t wait, Spike thought as he gathered some dishes and watched her closely to make sure she got everything she picked up all right. No sharp objects around Buffy at this point in time, no way.

Walking back and forth from the kitchen to the living room, Buffy seemed to be thinking hard about what to ask. He chuckled to himself, watching how her forehead crinkled in though and she got a little crease in the middle of her eyebrows.

“What would you do if you weren’t a cop?” she finally asked.

He smiled, “I’d probably teach.”

“English?”

“Yes, luv, English. What would you do if you weren’t editing for a website?”

“Travel. I’d like to travel.”

“You have enough money to do that, I’m sure.”

“No…I don’t want to live off them even more. I want to do that on my own with my own money.”

“Where would you go?”

“London and Italy.”

He smiled, “London, huh?”

She grinned, “Yep!"

He had to laugh. “Okay, so—“

“Nope, that was two – three—questions. My turn now.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you miss England?”

“Well, I was only a teenager when I left, but yeah, I do.”

“Maybe you could show me London one day.”

“Maybe I could.”

They stared at each other for a moment, just smiling at each other.

“Kay, pet,” he said, breaking the staring contest, “What else you want to ask?”

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“Twenty.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped and Spike chose that moment to start dishing the leftover pasta in some Tupperware. She stood across from him at the island as he worked. “Really?” she said in disbelief.

“Yup. Shocked?”

“I figured you did it at like…fifteen or something.”

Spike laughed, “What are you trying to say, pet? I’m a slut?”

Her eyes widened, horrified. “No, no, I just meant that you seemed…experienced—“

“Is that just a PC way of saying ‘slut’?”

“No, Spike, I’m not saying that at all—“

“I’m teasing you, Buffy.”

“Oh.” Then she glared at him. “Jerk.”

“I lost my virginity late because…Well, truth was, I wasn’t so good with the ladies then—“

“And you are now?” she joked. “I’m kidding, I couldn’t help it. You walked into that one.”

He gave her a look, though he was grinning. “Laugh it up.”

“Sorry. Continue. Not good with the ladies and…?”

“And my first time was with Drusilla.”

“Oh, Spike.”

“I know.”

“That totally blows!”

He laughed again. “Blows huh?”

“Yeah, we both lost it to people we thought truly cared about us, but noooooooo….it’s amazing to me how some people can do crap like that and live with themselves. It’s like all it is is a game to them. It’s absolutely disgusting. And you know what’s even worse?”

“No, what?”

“The fact that those guys could have known about you and still did it. To another guy. And the fact that Gwen did it to me, another woman. Shouldn’t there be some code of ethics? Some kind of rule or law…something that says ‘thou shalt not screw over their own gender’? I mean, women take crap from men and vice versa, so shouldn’t we be looking out for our own gender?”

“’Fraid the world isn’t made up that way.”

“It should be.”

Silence, then, “Buffy, did you like your first time?”

She stared at him, blinked, and said “Sort of. Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he was patient at first and then it was just like as soon as he got where he wanted to be, it was a race for the finish line. I didn’t win that round, and it wasn’t often that I won after, either. I was ready to go right away, but he was all tired.”

Spike couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh, pet. You crack me up.”

“I wouldn’t talk this way if I were sober,” she told him, blushing.

“I know. You want to know something though?”

“What?”

“It’d be okay if you did. But just with me though.”

“Well…I’m curious about…stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like what it feels like for the guy, for example.”

“Wet, warm…like…when you’re out in the cold and you put a pair of warm gloves on from your pocket and you have that blissful moment of being encased in snug warmth.”

“But then more exciting than that? That sounds kinda boring.”

Chuckling, Spike nodded. “Yeah, but more exciting.”

“What is your favorite part of sex, Spike?”

“I don’t know that I have a favorite part. All of it is good.”

“Is it true that sex is like pizza—even if it’s bad, it’s still pretty good?”

Spike grinned, “You tell me.”

“Yeah, I guess, but…I would have liked to have ‘won’ more often.”

“When someone cares about getting the girl they’re with off, and not just themselves, you will get off, pet.”

“So, do you want to try it?”

He froze. “Try what?”

“Getting me off.”

“Okay, you’re not allowed to drink anymore,” Spike said, snatching the bottle of wine out of Buffy’s hand.

“Hey!” she exclaimed and lunged for it.

“You’re cut off, Princess.”

“Oooh, that’s a new one.”

“You like it?”

“As long as you haven’t called anyone else that, I love it.”

“I haven’t. That was just for you.” Note to self: Do not tell Buffy ever that you called Dru your Dark Princess.

She beamed at him. “Great. So, you have a question now.”

Oh, thank God. She forgot. He somehow managed to avert that disaster. Did she have any idea what she did to him?

“What happened the other night with your parents?”

“Oh, the night you left to get laid from Anya?”

“Buffy—“

“I stood up to my mother.”

His eyes widened. “You did? How?”

“I told her basically that it was my life, and my decision to stay here and stay here I would. I also told her that I was not going to send you away and that you were a great cop and would protect me as you promised…can I get some more wine? I’m starting to get a headache.”

Spike still held the bottle firmly in his hand, looking at her in awe. “You said all that?”

“Yep.”

“What did she say?”

“She huffed and she puffed and…” she broke off giggling, “I think she wanted to blow my house down, but she just said not to call her when I get killed.”

“She said that to you?” Spike growled.

“Come on, it’s funny if you think about that for a minute.”

“Buffy…”

“So, my dad was on my side, of course. But then he was beckoned away.”

“Buffy, I’m so sorry,” Spike said softly.

She blinked, “Why?”

“While you were here defending me, I was…God, why did you defend me?” He felt lower than low. While he was out trying to bang Anya to get relief because he really wanted Buffy, Buffy had been here defending him and standing up to her mother….God, what an idiot he was!

“Because you’re a good cop,” she said simply.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“I told you to go,” she reminded him softly. “Can we change the subject now?”

“Sure, kitten, we can.”

“Ask me something else.”

“Okay, I have to think—“

“Did you sleep with Anya that night?” Buffy blurted out.

Spike shook his head, making sure to look directly at her so she could see the honesty in his face. “No, luv, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Buffy—“

“Just tell me, please.”

“She didn’t want me. She was still angry with me.”

Buffy looked down, “Oh.”

Making his way around the counter, he lifted her chin up, making her look at him. “Buffy…I …I went there because—“

He was cut off by Buffy’s plump and luscious lips kissing him hungrily. Her fingers were digging into his shoulders as she drew him close to her, his hands found her waist and pulled her up against him, their bodies melding together.

“I went there,” Spike began – “I went there to see her because—“

Pounding sounded from the door and a man’s voice, yelling through the door, alerted Spike. He looked over at the monitor’s.

“Spike?”

“Buffy, do you know who that is?” Spike asked, pointing to the monitor of the front door.

Buffy turned to look and exclaimed immediately. “Angel!”

Oh shit, the brother.

Buffy was already off and running to the front door to let her brother in, Finn beside him.

“Buffy, what the hell is going on?” Angel demanded. He pointed at Spike. “Who the hell is that and why am I being escorted to your door?”

“Buffy, this is your brother, right?” Finn asked her.

“Yes, Riley, it is. You’ve seen him before!”

“I just wanted to make sure—“

“Thanks, Finn!” Spike said, shutting the door on his face once Angel was inside.

Angel; tall, dark, with brown eyes that were sizing Spike up – and somehow Spike didn’t think he was adding up—was actually almost menacing. Most likely because he was clearly annoyed. He was glaring at Spike as if he knew of his intent to bed Buffy - and wasn't his appearance a serious wake-up call in the cold shower department.

"Angel, calm down," Buffy demanded.

Seeming to listen to his sister, Angel took a deep breath, "All right, I'm calmed down. Now what the hell is going on?"

That seemed to annoy Buffy more and she just shook her head, letting out a heavy sigh of annoyance. "It's a long story. I want you to sit down."

"I'm not an imbecile, Buffy. I know nothing good every comes from another person saying 'I want you to sit down'."

"Some thieves broke into the house while I was in the shower," Buffy said matter-of-factly.

"I think I need to sit," Angel whispered and made his way over to the couch, dumping his bags along the way on the carpet.

Spike raised a brow, watching the exchange between the siblings. It seemed a penchant for the dramatics ran rampant through the family, though Buffy didn't seem all that much like a Drama Queen at all. She was possibly the most down-to-Earth, so far, of the Summers clan that he'd met.

Settling back in a corner chair, Spike watched the scene unfold before him. Buffy was tiny like her mother, and Angel was big and broad like Hank, and he was sure was going to have tendencies towards Hank's huskiness later on if he wasn't careful. And, Spike noted, Angel was definitely not gay.

"Are you all right?" Angel asked his sister.

"I'm fine, Angel."

"How did this happen?"

Buffy relayed the story with much trepidation, and Spike watched Storm Angel grow darker and darker with anger. His jaw was twitching, which meant he was clearly clenching, and his eyes were growing narrower and narrower. When his nostrils started to flare, Spike was pretty sure he was going to blow at any moment.

When Angel's focus went straight to Spike, Spike sat up taller and stared him in the eye. He was not going to let this man intimidate him. "And now you're here," Angel said simply.

"Yep."

“And you got my sister drunk?”

“She did that of her own volition.”

“So, you’re not taking advantage of her?”

Spike glared at him, “No. I would not do something like that to Buffy.”

That seemed to appease Angel. Spike knew he’d been testing him, seeing if he had malicious intent towards Buffy, if he was legit or if he was there to take advantage of her and her situation. Spike couldn’t blame the guy for that. He was her brother, after all, and he’d probably seen his share of people trying to use and abuse Buffy for whatever reason. The thought of that angered Spike.

“Is there any way to get that Finn character off this case?” Angel asked.

Spike broke into a wide grin. “You’re not such a bad bloke after all, are you?”

********

When Angel had finished questioning Buffy and Spike on all the happenings since he’d been gone, he’d claimed exhaustion and went to bed, promising to be out of their hair the following day. Not that Buffy minded having her brother around, but she was sort of glad he was going to his own apartment. She wanted Spike to herself.

That interruption though had sealed it for them for the night, for after Angel went to bed, so did Spike. Buffy sat up in bed, pouting as she channel surfed. They’d been on the brink of something potentially amazing and it had all came to an abrupt halt. Now she felt jipped. Whatever had been building had shattered and Buffy wasn’t sure if and when they’d get it back. Spike blew hot and cold so much, she wasn’t sure exactly where she stood with him. Sometimes she felt as though he might want her back, and other times, it was as if he just wanted to run for cover.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy flung the remote on the bed and climbed out of bed. She wanted answers, dammit, and answers she was going to get.

It was time to talk to Spike, and she didn’t care if he was sleeping. She wanted to talk to him now.

Flinging her door open, Buffy found Spike just on the other side, his fist poised to knock. “Hi luv,” he greeted her, dropping his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I was just coming to see you,” she told him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I . . . we never got to . . . you were starting to tell me something when . . . Do you want to come in?”

Raking a hand through his locks, Spike stepped back. “How about we go downstairs instead? Maybe get some air on the patio?”

Okay, so he didn’t want to be alone with her in her bedroom. She should take that as a compliment of sorts, right? She wasn’t liking this though, she was feeling as if she were about to get the brush off again and that was not settling well in her half-drunk, half-sober brain.

Following him down to the patio, she slipped on a cardigan and they stepped outside. Immediately, Spike lit up a cigarette and faced her. “I couldn’t sleep. I felt as though things were left up in the air. Buffy, I don’t want to lead you on.”

She stared at him, expressionless. It seemed pretty simple to her. “Then don’t.”

He took a drag from his cigarette and again ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s unprofessional of me to do this.”

“Do you want me, Spike?”

“What I want and what I’m going to do are two different things.”

“Just answer the damn question. Do you want me or not?”

“I do. It’s why I went to Anya, Buffy. I wanted you so much and I knew I couldn’t…I had to get you out of my system.”

Well, that was a slap in the face if there ever was one. “You went to Anya because you wanted me?”

“Yes, I—“

“You went to Anya because you wanted me.”

He was catching on that he was in trouble because the look on his face was one of impending doom.

“How did you think that telling me you went to another woman like that was going to make me feel better?”

“Because you’d know how much I want you,” he said slowly.

“So instead of coming to me, you went to Anya. How do you think that’s supposed to make me feel?” He started to open his mouth and she stopped him, holding up her hand. “No, wait for it. I’m going to answer since you don’t seem to have a clue, which is why you felt it okay to go ahead and share with me that you had to ‘get it out of your system’ with another woman. I understand that you and I are not together, Spike, I understand that we have no ties to one another, but just the same, a woman does not like to hear that while she is wanted, she is off limits so much that someone else had to be used to take the pressure off. Not only is it horribly wrong for you to do something like that to Anya, but also you basically just told me that I am interchangeable enough that just anyone would do.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty much wading in it right now. So, this is what I’m going to do, since I’m the one that’s caused all this…discomfort for you. Since at this point, the only one I trust to be in this house with me is you,” And since I don’t want you to go no matter how much you just hurt me, damn you, “I am just going to quite simply stay out of your way. You want this professional then fine, we’ll make it professional. No more dinners, no more hanging out, no more talking. I certainly wouldn’t want to be the cause of your distress, nor would I want to be the cause of your having to use another woman. Good night, Spike.”

She walked away from him on shaky legs and she just prayed that she’d make it up the stairs and into her room before she lost it.

********

Spike watched her go, feeling like possibly the scummiest person on Earth. What the hell had he been thinking when he told her about Anya? How could he have possibly thought that was going to work out well? All he’d thought was Well, then she’ll know how crazy she drives me; how much I really do want her.

“Good on you, you stupid git,” he muttered to himself. “Now you’ve single-handedly made her think that you really are a pig.”

I am a pig. And a colossal fuck up. I can’t do anything right by her – or any woman, can I?

Feeling that he’d just lost something incredibly precious, and he had, no matter his every intent on keeping his distance after their passionate kiss in the kitchen, he felt the loss acutely.

He was also aware of his contradicting actions and his hot and cold routine…it wasn’t fair to her. She deserved better than that.

She deserved better than him.

Right then. This is well and truly it. The end of what never was to begin with: Buffy and Spike.

*********

The next afternoon, after Spike and Buffy made like two ships passing in the night all morning, and Angel made phone calls from his ‘room’, Buffy went out to tend her garden in the front yard. That gave her real peace. Her mind drifted back to the question Spike had asked about what she would have done if not website editing, and she had to say, right now, it’d be a florist. She didn’t know why she didn’t say that considering how much pleasure it gave her. She felt soothed by planting, weeding, feeding and watering her plants. She did her best thinking in the garden.

As she pulled out a weed and dumped it in a bucket, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Looking up and over, she found Riley. Standing, she turned to him, shading her eyes with her gloved hand. “Hi, Riley, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry about last night with your brother and all. It’s just that I’d rather be safe than sorry and I only met him once, ya know?”

“I understand, and I appreciate it, thank you.”

“Listen, I was wondering…I know what I said the other day, err, yesterday, was ‘uncouth’ of me and I really feel bad about that.”

“Oh, you mean with the robbers and…yeah, just forget it, it’s all right Riley. Sometimes intent and what we say and do gets crossed…” Kind of like Spike.

“Well, I was wondering, that is, if you’d let me and all…. See, I think Sergeant Rayne is gonna pull me and Gunn tomorrow and just keep Spike here with you and I was thinking, that is if you—“

“Spit it out, Riley,” Buffy encouraged kindly, yet firmly.

“Can I take you out? Just for dinner or whatever…?”

Buffy had to smile at how endearing he was. How nervous. He liked her, an idiot could see that, and though she’d never given him any encouragement, she could see that really, Riley was not a bad person. He was a good guy. A sweet guy. And knowing how it felt to be rejected and have your feelings squashed like a bug under a boot, Buffy didn’t want to be the one responsible for not at least giving Riley a chance. A chance, Spike. That’s all I wanted…how was that so wrong?

“Sure, Riley,” Buffy agreed, “I’ll go out with you. When do you want to go?”

Peering out the window, Spike spied Riley and Buffy having a chat. His eyes narrowing, Spike did not like the way Riley was smiling too brightly and too happily at Buffy. Something was up, and he intended to find out what.

Strolling outside, whistling, Spike plunked himself down on the front stoop, and commenced with the eavesdropping.

“How about tonight if that’s all right? I could take you to this little Italian Bistro, and maybe after we could hit the The Bronze for some dancing,” Riley said.

Spike nearly fell from where he was perched. Buffy was going out on a date with Riley?! With Finn. Oh, hell no.

“Now, I know you can’t hear the music,” Riley continued, “but I read that deaf people can feel the beat to dance if it’s loud enough. Is that right?”

Buffy smiled, “Yes, it is. I rather like to dance.”

He smiled broadly, looking as if she had just given him the world. It would have been almost touching if he didn’t feel like heaving.

“What time should I be ready for?” she asked.

When they’d finished making definitive plans, Riley went back to the car, and Buffy sauntered over to her flowerbed. Jumping down from his spot on the stoop, and waiting until Riley was out of earshot, Spike went immediately over to Buffy.

Grabbing her arm, he all but yanked at her to look at him. “What was that?” he demanded, gesturing toward Riley.

She blinked, “He came over to talk to me.”

“He asked you out and you accepted.”

“Yeah, imagine that. I gave him a chance.”

“You’re doing this to spite me,” he said, pointing at her.

She yanked her arm free of his grasp. “I’m not doing anything to spite you, you jackass. You’re the one that doesn’t want me—“

“I told you I did –“

“But we can’t, and we shouldn’t, and you have to go to Anya to get relief. Well, you know what?” she got in his face. “I have needs to, and if you’re not willing to do anything about them after I’ve practically thrown myself at you, then maybe Riley will.”

“You’re playing with fire, Princess,” he said warningly.

“Well, at least I’ll be playing with something.”

“Everything all right out here?” Angel asked, standing in the doorway, looking down at the pair with eyebrows raised. He looked straight at Spike, questioning him. Putting up his hands, Spike stalked off, going around the back of the house.

Buffy started to well up in tears. So, yeah, maybe Spike hadn’t been so far off in his accusation. Maybe she was doing it partly to spite him, as well as be kind to Riley.

What a little hypocrite she’d become. Her intentions had started out well enough, and now she wasn’t sure anymore.

Damn that Spike.

“Buffy, what’s going on?” Angel asked her, concerned.

She looked up at him, “I just seem to have tragic taste in men.”

********

After Angel spent most of the rest of the afternoon goading her into telling him what was going on, Buffy finally cracked and told him. They sat together in her bedroom just a few hours before her date, talking. Spike was…around.

Angel listened, his expression unreadable. If there was one person on the planet Buffy had a hard time reading, it was him. Even if he was her brother. When she finally finished, Angel said, deadpan, “You want me to kick his ass?”

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh. “No.”

“I mean, he’s probably quick and all, and a cop, but I could take him I’m sure.”

Buffy continued to laugh, “No, be serious.”

“I’m at least sixty percent serious here, Buff. He hurt you and you’re my sister.”

“But …am I being a hypocrite for going out with Riley?”

“Little bit, yeah. But…I don’t blame you for wanting to do it. However…Riley?”

Buffy shrugged, “He’s not so bad. Kind of awkward and bumbling…large and…but he’s sweet. He’s been good to me.”

“Gratitude is not a reason to agree to go out with someone.”

“I felt sorry for him.”

“Neither is pity, either.”

“Oh, shut up.” Buffy said, getting up from her bed. “You know what? I don’t care, okay? I don’t.”

“Yes,” Angel said on a sigh, “You do. But what is it you care more about? Riley or Spike?”

“You know what will just be nice?”

“What?”

“Going out with someone who actually likes me. Not someone that is later going to screw my best friend, and not someone who is later going to find someone else to ‘relieve the tension’ I cause him, or get hung up on the whole professional thing as some kind of buffer. Screw that. I’m going out tonight, dammit, and I’m going to have a goddamn good time!”

Angel smiled broadly. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”

********

It was determined that Spike wouldn’t have to go since she was going to be with a cop after all, and Gunn would be fine all by his lonesome. Spike figured that at least by the following day, Gunn and Riley would be set free since the robbers were found, and they, so far, were not linked to the murder.

Spike was seething by the time Buffy came down the stairs to greet Riley. She was so out-of-this-world gorgeous in a “swingy” knee length lavender dress, that crisscrossed in the front before it flowed out, giving her an almost fairy like look. She wore strappy silver sandals that tied up around her ankles; her makeup was light and yet dramatic enough for an evening out. She had a matching purse and a cardigan on hand if need be. She had pulled her hair back with sparkling barrettes, with tendrils coming down in curls and framing her face.

His hands itched to touch her. Instead, he smiled tightly, and wished them a good night through clenched teeth. He considered the idea of following them, but if either were to see him, there would be hell to pay. He also entertained the idea of just going out for a while, but really, he wanted to be sure he was there in case she gave Riley the boot early. He wanted to see her face as soon as she walked through that door.

Once they were gone, Spike headed for the fridge to see what kind of liquor she had besides wine.

********

Dinner had gone pretty smooth, and all Buffy was hoping at this point, was that Riley would loosen up enough with her to have a good time. She hated to see him trying so hard. She didn’t consider herself as hard to impress, or hard to talk to, and it made her feel that perhaps she was doing something wrong with his inability to relax.

He was nice enough, but she felt it hard to really draw him out and get to know him. The truth of the matter was, she didn’t see it going past friendship and hoped that Riley was in tune enough to the situation to realize that as well.

When they made it to The Bronze, Buffy made Riley get a drink in the hopes that he’d relax.

Riley frowned, “I’m not a good ‘fast’ dancer, but I can slow dance. If you’d like to dance, please feel free.”

“You sure?” Buffy asked, gazing longingly at the throng of bodies moving on the dance floor. She could feel the beat under her feet, and she wished she could hear it.

“Positive. I’ll just go say hi to a buddy of mine at the bar.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll come find you in a few.”

“All right,” Buffy said standing.

“If you need me –“

“Riley, I’m all right.”

He smiled, “Of course.”

Jumping into the throng, Buffy set about proving that you didn’t actually have to hear to dance. It was all about the beat…

*********

Buffy understood why Riley felt self-conscious when he ‘fast danced’, he wasn’t really good. He wasn’t all that great at slow-dancing either. She counted three times he’d stepped on her feet.

Who am I to judge? she thought as the beat picked up once more and she was once again, lost in her own world. Riley excused himself to get them drinks and she figured she couldn’t be rude, and decided once the song she was dancing to was over; she’d use the facilities and then join him.

On the way to the bathroom, Buffy had the uncanny feeling she was being watched, possibly followed. She hated that feeling, always hated people behind her. She felt since she couldn’t hear, she was an easy target, and so it made her paranoid to feel people behind her. It had always been a thing, so she didn’t put that much stock into it. Turning down the dim, winding hallway to the bathroom, she looked over her shoulder and found nothing in the shadows. Girls filed out of the bathroom as she entered, and she shook the feeling off as being ridiculous.

Going about her business, she wondered what Spike was up to. Was he mad? Hurt? Did he not care? Maybe he invited Anya over…Blech. No, he wouldn’t stoop that low.

Heading to the sink to wash her hands, she looked up to check her makeup and froze. Behind her, staring at her was a man dressed in black with a ski mask.

The Murderer.

She felt the wind knock out of her, her knees were buckling and she forced herself to face him, trembling hard all over.

“Cock tease,” he said and it took her a minute to comprehend what he was saying through the slit in the mask where the mouth was.

She started to make a dash for the door when he grabbed her arm and slammed her up against the wall. Her back slammed into the wall, and she felt her breath leave her.

He leaned in close to her and she shut her eyes until she felt him move back, terror gripping her. She got it in her head to reach up and yank the mask off, and her hands moved slowly, so paralyzed by fear she was.

Stepping back away from her, he spied her hands reaching up and backhanded her, sending her to the floor from the force of it.

In a flash he was gone.

Girls burst through the door, chattering so fast, Buffy couldn’t make out what they were saying, and nor could she focus.

She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t do anything really; except pass out.

When she came to, Riley was carrying her out of the club and flashing lights alerted her that cops had arrived on the scene.

Looking down at her, Riley asked. “How’s the face?”

It took her a minute to figure out what he was saying. Oh, God. “Riley, put me down.”

“Buffy—“

“Please!”

He put her down and she promptly heaved, bursting into tears. Coming around her, Riley drew her into his arms and she sobbed into his chest. A second later, she felt a blanket being draped around her.

She was led to his car and tilting her head up, he instructed her to get inside and they’d go down to the station.

All she wanted to do was go home.

All she wanted at that moment was her brother and Spike.

********

Down at the station, she was surprised to find Spike there. As soon as she saw him, she burst into tears, and he ran to her, gathering her up in his arms, kissing her forehead. She could feel his lips moving against her forehead, but of course she didn’t hear him. She could imagine what he was saying though, and that was enough somehow to soothe her.

Leaning back a bit, he made her look at him. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and her hand instinctively went to her cheek. His eyes darkened and he put his hand over the spot where she’d been backhanded, touching it tenderly.

“I want to go home, Spike.”

“I know you do, Princess, and we will. Just have to answer a few questions, okay?”

She nodded dumbly. “How come you’re here?”

He looked at her solemnly. “You thought I was going to stay there when I heard what happened?”

“Who called?”

“Gunn. He heard the call over the CB.”

“Did you call Angel?”

“No, luv, I didn’t. I don’t have his number.”

“Can you call him now, please? I just…I just want to see him right now.”

“I understand luv. Give me his number and I’ll call him while you answer those questions like a good girl, okay?”

“Please don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” she said wrinkling her nose.

Chuckling, he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

When she was escorted off with Riley to answer questions, Spike rang Angel, his hands shaking the entire time.

He’d never forget the feeling that came over him when Gunn had called and told him that Buffy had been hurt. His heart had stopped beating, he was sure. He felt cold all over, and he’d had a hard time breathing. All he could think was: Buffy is hurt and I’m not there to protect her. He couldn’t move fast enough to get to her.

He just had to see her, touch her, hold her, assure himself that she was standing upright and in one piece. He nearly cried from relief when he saw her climb out of Finn’s car. She’d looked so lost and so frightened.

I wasn’t there, I should have been there.

“Hello?”

“Angel, it’s Spike.”

“What is it? Buffy all right? Why are you calling me at this hour?” Angel demanded, clearly worried.

“She…she got attacked at The Bronze.”

“What?! Where is she? How badly hurt? I’m coming over.”

“We’re down at the station. She’s asked for you.”

“Spike....how badly hurt is she?”

“She was smacked across the face. She passed out after.”

“Who was it?”

“The murderer.”

“Jesus Christ,” Angel muttered. “I’m coming down now. Do not leave until I get there, please.”

Buffy needed her brother, and whatever Buffy needed, Spike would give her. Besides, he was hoping to get a chance to ream Riley a new asshole for leaving her for even a second.

********

Buffy walked out of the Q&A session feeling numb. She’d learned that there was some questioning going on at The Bronze, finding out if anyone had seen a man all in black with a ski mask. A lineup would be produced for her in a few minutes of possible suspects that fit the height and weight of the murderer, and that Riley had found her by the girls that had been in the bathroom, screaming for help.

How could so many people have missed him? Buffy had to wonder. She felt as though she were stuck in a really bad horror movie. The kind where the murderer is able to commit deplorable acts against his victims, all while his victims are screaming their heads off, and no one comes.

She felt helpless. How’d he get to her? Why did he call her a cock tease? That hinted that he knew her somehow…that he was angry with her. She wanted to scream her frustration; wanted the cops to work harder and faster. She wanted her life back, and mostly, she just wanted to feel safe again.

In all honesty, she’d felt spooked before, but now…now she felt as though she were a sitting duck. Who was hunting her? And would she, and everyone around her, make it out of all this in one piece?

Looking up, she spied Angel bursting through the swinging doors of the precinct and Spike rushing to greet him. She burst into tears once more at the sight of her brother. She wanted to go see him, but she couldn’t seem to make her feet move to get to him.

Buffy hated the feeling she had, the feeling of being helpless, of not having any sort of control. She’d fought so hard to gain control of her life, and to live like a normal person despite her handicap and now, in one fell swoop, she felt as though she couldn’t do anything. She didn’t remember ever feeling so afraid.

Would this happen to me if I could hear? she couldn’t help but wonder. Strange thought to have, really, since this sort of thing happened everyday to people who could hear, but if the murderer knew something about her then he must know . . . and was that part of the appeal for him? Or had the ‘cock tease’ remark just been because he was some kind of misogynist and just put that label on all women?

So many questions and no answers to any of them.

She watched Angel bound over to her and she held out her arms, needing the safety of her big brother. Angel had protected her from everything. He’d been there when the kids at school would pick on her; he’d gotten into many fights when they were younger when those kids would make sport out of following her and taunting her, laughing about the fact that she couldn’t hear what they were saying. He’d been there when their parents had tried to shuttle her away from the world. He’d allowed her to feel very normal in the world; he’d helped her find ways to live and adjust and for that, she was eternally grateful for him. Growing up, when she was upset about something, the person she sought was Angel.

Angel held her close in his arms and she sobbed her frustrations out while trying to relay what had happened at the club.

Tilting her head up, he moved her head to the side so he could get a look at the mark across her face. “Did you get ice for that?” he asked.

“Yeah, Riley got me some on the way here.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore. Is it bad?”

“Just red. Hand or glove?”

“Glove.”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You didn’t recognize anything at all about him? Anything that could clue you into who it was?”

Her tears had been settled and now they started up again. “No.”

“Buffy, it’s okay, it’s all right.”

“What if he never gets caught?”

“He will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because…because I have faith.”

“No, you don’t. You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“He’s gonna trip up, Buffy, he will. Showing up like he did tonight? He’ll get caught.”

“Maybe I could be used as bait.”

Angel paled. “Do not even joke about something like that.”

“I’m not joking.”

“I don’t think so,” Angel said definitively, shaking his head.

“Why not? If he knows me, Angel, if he’s watching--”

“I said no!”

Even though she couldn’t hear him, she knew that he had yelled and she jumped just the same.

Spike was there then, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking at Angel. “What’s going on?”

“Buffy here wants to make herself bait for the murderer.”

Spike shook his head adamantly. “Absolutely not, Princess.”

“But—“

“No.”

Buffy sighed, and then had to laugh. First she had been scared beyond belief because of the murderer, and then she was offering herself up to catch him. A bit contradictory, but testament to how much she just wanted this to be over.

They looked at her as if she were mad. “I just want to go home,” she whined. “I’m done, I’ve had it.”

“All right, Princess, let’s go home.”

Angel raised a brow at that remark, but said nothing. Instead he followed the pair out of the precinct, noting how Spike wrapped a protective arm around Buffy and cuddled her close to him. Seemed to him that Mr. Giles was finally figuring out just what Buffy meant to him. Too bad it took her getting attacked for him to feel he could express it better.

********

Once they’d arrived at Buffy’s, Spike set about making sure everything was locked up tight. Angel helped him while Buffy showered.

“Spike,” Angel said as they stood in the living room, checking the window latches.

“Yeah?”

“Look…I like to think I can read people rather well.”

“Yeah…?” Spike said slowly.

“And I think you’re a good guy, if not a bit…fucked in the head. You’re a good cop, I can tell that, and I can also tell you care about Buffy, but you have a funny way of showing it. She likes you, you know she does, and here’s the thing: If you’re just gonna hurt her, then leave her before she gets more attached to you than she already is, but if you really do care for her and want to make her happy, then stop playing the head games. Figure out what you want and go for it. Cause Spike…if you hurt my sister, I’m gonna have to kick your ass and I don’t want to have to do that, all right?”

Spike nodded. “I get that.”

“I love my sister more than anything. Growing up, it was just me and her and I’ve seen kids be mean to her, people treat her like shit, overlook her because of her handicap and I am protective of her, often overprotective, but I figure its best you know where I’m coming from than being in the dark if I have to take a swing at you, you know?”

Spike laughed, “I hear ya.”

Angel smiled. “I just want someone to take care of her. Not because she’s deaf. She’s a strong woman, she really is. It’s just…everyone deserves to have someone take care of them.”

“I do care for her a great deal, Angel.”

“I know you do. I just wish you’d show it more. For all of Buffy’s bravado, she’s really scared inside, and not just about this…but just about being alone and all that. Parker was an ass. He treated her like shit, and she bore it, and the only reason why she bore it was because he was her first for everything and he showed her interest where others hadn’t. I’m convinced that bastard was using her, and he pretty much confirmed it when he took her money to open his bar. Buffy’s got a big heart, and she wants to live life to the fullest and I don’t want to see her waste that zest for life she has. I want to see her embrace it as she’s always done. I see how you encourage her and support her; I think that’s what she needs.”

“I agree,” Spike whispered. “She’s…she’s an angel.”

Angel laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. She’s got a stubborn streak a mile long.”

Spike chuckled. “Don’t I know it.”

“And she can act like a brat when she doesn’t get her own way.”

“Did you want me to continue to like her or not?” Spike joked.

Angel laughed again. “I’m stopping.”

“I…I won’t hurt Buffy for sport, Angel, you have my word on that.”

“Don’t hurt her at all, Spike.”

“I will try not to. It’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

“Make sure it is the last thing you ever do, or I will.”

********

After the house was checked in every room, every nook and cranny, Spike made his way up to Buffy’s room and Angel retired to his.

Opening the door slowly so as to not frighten her too much, he found her staring at the TV expressionless. She looked over at him and smiled weakly. “Hi.”

“All locked up. You all right?”

“Not really. How about you?”

He sat down next to her and took her hand in his. “Not that well either, pet.”

“Why not?”

He studied her, “How can you ask me that?”

She blinked, “I’m…sorry?”

Sighing, he shook his head, looking at her with what he hoped was sincerity. He was going to lay it on the line for her, and it was important that she believe him, that she ‘read’ him correctly.

“Buffy, the start of this night was hell for me…the day was hell, who am I kidding? You going out with Riley....All day that was all I could think of. You and Riley. Him touching you, saying nice things to you, wooing you…and you possibly falling for it. It…it killed me. And I know I have no right to feel that way, especially after what I did in regards to Anya.”

“Spike—“

“Let me finish, please?”

She nodded and gestured for him to continue.

“I was dumb for doing that; you were right. That was awful of me to use Anya like that. Pet, one thing though, you are not interchangeable. Not in the least. Anya is a nice enough person; she’s just not for me. You though…you’re,” he broke off, running his free hand through his hair, “To me, you’re an angel. You embody everything that I need, Buffy. You make me see things differently. You show me different ways of looking at things rather than keeping my narrow outlook. You don’t play stupid games that other women do, you’re upfront and you’re honest—“

“Well, in all fairness, it was wrong of me to go out with Riley just to get back at you.”

“Well, yeah.”

“On the other hand, I wanted to give him a chance…I knew something about not being given one, and not just by you, Spike.”

“I don’t get that…how anyone could have you in their life and just waste it away…waste it on someone like Gwen,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

She smiled, “Thank you.”

“Buffy, tonight when I got the call that you were attacked and hurt, I lost it. I was the most scared I’d ever been and that’s saying a lot considering I’ve had guns pointed at me with the intent to take my life before.”

She looked horrified by that, but he continued on. “I would have moved Heaven and Earth to get to you. The thought of you hurt…it drove me crazy.”

“Spike—“

“And besides, even if you did want to see Riley again, you won’t be able to.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Why not?”

“Cause I’m pretty much gonna put him in a full body cast when I see him.”

She laughed, “You wouldn’t do that.”

“He should have been there with you.”

“He was.”

“The whole time.”

“What was he supposed to do? Follow me to the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes widened, “Would you have done that?”

“Princess, don’t you know?” he said softly, sidling up closer to her. Reaching out, he took a lock of her hair and twirled it in his fingers as he looked at her tenderly. “I’d do anything to get to you. Do anything to keep you safe.”

She said nothing, just stared at him, slightly dazed. He kissed her; slowly at first, and then rising in passion. He poured his longing, need, desire, worry, fear, relief and adoration for her all in that kiss, and this time when she pulled him closer to her, he didn’t pull away, but instead allowed himself to be dragged down onto the bed so that his body covered hers.

Buffy broke from the kiss, and pushed at him slightly. She couldn’t believe she was the one stopping this time, but she felt she needed to be sure of a few things first.

“Spike, are you sure?”

He grinned boyishly, “Sure that I want you?”

She nodded.

“Most definitely, kitten.”

“Are you going to tell me how much of a mistake it was in the morning? How you should have been professional and all that crap? Cause if you are, please stop now. I couldn’t bear it.”

He pecked her nose and looked at her solemnly. “I won’t.”

“Are you lying?”

“Buffy, can I make love to you or not?” he asked impatiently.

She smiled broadly and nodded, bringing him down against her once more. The feel of him on her was so heavenly. She missed the feel of a man on her, and Spike was a real man, not a boy like Parker. She put her trust in him fully that he would take care of her. She supposed perhaps it was naïve of her to do, but she couldn’t help it. There was just something about him that called to something in her and damn if she could deny it.

Tentatively, she put her hands under his shirt at his waist, feeling his gloriously warm and smooth skin. She smiled into his kiss.

“What’s that about?” he asked, pulling back a bit breathlessly.

“You feel nice,” she told him honestly, stroking his skin almost shyly, but growing more and more bold with each caress.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you drive me?” he murmured, searching her eyes.

“I do?” she asked innocently. As if it were a surprise, as if she didn’t know how alluring she was and the effect it had on him.

How was that possible? he had to wonder.

He nodded, “You do. You’re not like…this is going to sound awful and I want you to put it out of your mind as soon as I say it. Just take what you want from it and put the rest out of your brain, you got it?”

She nodded eagerly.

“You’re not like the other women I’ve been with. They’re all so jaded and they …they don’t play and get excited about the little things like just touching and caressing—“

“You mean they have a lot of experience?”

“Yeah, and I know you’ve had some already and I’m not saying you’re lacking, I’m just saying—“

She put her finger over his lips, stopping him. “It’s okay, Spike. I’m glad I’m not like them. That means I stand out.”

“Oh, Buffy, you do, you do,” he said huskily and kissed her senseless. “I’m torn between wanting to keep your innocence and wanting to teach you everything. And trust me, that has never been an inner struggle before.”

She smiled softly and ran her fingers through his hair, watching how his eyes closed and a tremor went through him. Curling her hand around the back of his head she pulled him down to kiss her. “Teach me everything,” she said just before their lips met.

He devoured her, kissing her hungrily, as though he were a man starved despite the bells in his head that were going off and warning him to take this slow. Too much passion too soon might be too much for her. On the other hand, wasn’t passion the very thing she craved? Hadn’t she been saying as much? She greeted everything with enthusiasm, why wouldn’t this be the same? Parker had obviously not known what to do with a woman like Buffy, a woman eager to learn, to touch, caress and explore. What a stupid git he’d been, not knowing how to tend to a woman as voracious as Buffy. With all the passion she received, she returned it three-fold – what man was stupid enough to not want part of that?

“I want you to take my shirt off,” he told her, caressing the soft skin of her bare arms.

Chewing her bottom lip, she obliged, lifting the hem and pulling it up and over him. Her eyes devoured him and he shuddered under her perusal.

“What do you want to do?” he asked hoarsely.

“I want you to lie down on your back,” she told him.

He nodded, not being able to speak. Moving off her, and his body missing her already, he rolled to her side and lay on his back, waiting in breathless anticipation for what she’d do.

She surprised him by straddling him, covering his clothed, but very hard member with her hot center. God, yeah, she was going to drive him out of his bleedin’ mind.

And then she touched him with her warm hands on his bare skin, right on his nipples and he nearly tossed her off his lap.

She giggled, “Did you like that? Or hate it?”

“Bloody love you touching me,” he ground out. “Do it some more.”

Watching her intently, Spike moaned as she swept her hands all over him, tracing every muscle and indent on him, and then she leaned over flicked a nipple with her tongue.

“Bloody hell!”

She lifted, “Did you say something?”

“I said ‘bloody hell’. Pet, no one has driven me this crazy just by doing what you’re doing.”

She smiled broadly, “I must have the touch,” and she went back to his nipples, expanding out with her mouth, leaving hot, open mouth kisses on him.

He was hard as nails, and ready to burst through his denim, but God, he didn’t want to stop the sweet torment.

Spike watched with growing excitement and interest when she wriggled off him and to the side. Looking at him, she met his eyes and grinned wickedly. Oh, kitten, what are you thinking?

He found out a second later when she unbuttoned his jeans and undid the zipper. He let out a ragged breath, and then held it, waiting for her inevitable surprise when she found he went commando. He felt perhaps he should warn her and was about to tap her arm when she drew back with an “Oh!” when his member popped out.

He had to laugh at how cute she sounded. He tapped her arm and when she looked at him, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t know you went commando, it surprised me is all,” and then she set about removing his pants, and he helped her discard them. Spike took immeasurable delight in her pushing him back on the bed and straddling his calves. His member lay slightly on his stomach, semi-erect.

And as soon as she put her mouth over him, he was hard again.

He hadn’t expected that, not so soon, not that night anyway. Not that he didn’t wish for it, all men wished for that, but he had been more than willing to wait for it. He should have learned by now to expect the unexpected with Buffy.

His Buffy.

She moaned around his member as her mouth took him as far as it could before she’d start to gag and then she suckled the head in her mouth, lapping at the underside, causing his hips to lift off the bed under her ministrations. He wasn’t going to last long….

When she took him down again and then cupped his balls gently and uncertainly, he pushed at her to stop.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?” she asked, straightening.

“No, luv, you’re just about making me cum and I don’t want to do that in your mouth.”

“What if I want you to?”

He shut his eyes and groaned. Popping them open, he shook his head. “No. I want to cum with you, luv, okay?”

She nodded. “What do I do?”

Sitting up, he pulled at her tank, lifting it slowly from her. When it was gone, he stared at her as if it were the first time seeing breasts before. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered and pulled her to him, kissing her and cupping her breasts in his hands, flicking the nipples with his thumbs.

She pressed against him, kissing him harder, and started rubbing her center against him, seeking friction.

He rolled her onto her back and set to work on kissing his way down her luscious body, suckling a breast in his mouth, laving the nipple and sucking again. Making sure he treated each breast with the same treatment, he went to the other one and repeated the action.

She was wriggling and squirming against him as he trailed kisses down her body, pushing her pajama bottoms off, taking her panties with them. When they were discarded, he drank her in, his Golden Goddess laid bare for him, her hair spread out like a halo around her head, looking up at him with complete trust, longing and lust in her eyes.

She undid him.

“Buffy…I’m…love, you’re just so incredibly perfect and –“

“No, Spike, I’m not perfect. I’m just me.”

“You’re perfect for me,” he whispered.

She smiled, “I like that.”

Starting at her slender waist, he slid his hands down over her belly, and over her creamy thighs. He wanted to taste her so bad his mouth was watering.

Pushing her legs apart gently, because he planned to set up camp between them, he looked up at her and told her to spread them for him. She bit her lip and obliged looking slightly nervous.

“Do you want me to not do this?” he asked her.

“No, I want you to.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m just nervous is all,” she said shyly.

“Why?”

“Well, Parker didn’t much like it…he said he didn’t like the taste…”

“Parker is an idiot.”

She giggled and then wagged a finger at him, “Don’t speak ill of the dead.”

He shrugged and dove in, licking up her slit, gathering the moisture that was already there on his tongue. Baby got turned on sucking me off.

Spreading her nether lips with his fingers, he dipped his tongue inside her, smiling when she heard her gasp. He popped his head up. “You taste divine by the way,” he assured her. “Parker was an idiot,” he said into her thigh.

Wanting to hear her gasp again, Spike paid special attention to her clit, flicking it with his tongue, sucking it in his mouth, and twirling it round and round with his tongue. She not only gasped for him, but started writhing and moaning, and digging her fingers in his scalp. Listening to her had him nearly dry humping the bed to get his own needed friction, and spurred him on to get her off. He wanted her to ‘win’.

Gently, he slid a finger inside her, and groaned with how tight she was. Adding a new sensation repotoire, Spike curled his finger up and inside her, pressing down on her G-spot while suckled her clit.

"Oh...oh!" she burst out, and came with a vengeance. "Oh, Spike," she breathed, "Spike..."

He smiled, loving hearing his name like that on her lips. Licking up her spendings, thinking she tasted like honey. And Parker hadn't enjoyed that? What a wanker.

Climbing up her body, he watched her as she came down from her climax, a very satisfied expression on her angelic face. She smiled up at him, cupping the side of his face. "Thank you for that," she whispered.

"Baby, we're far from done, so don't be thanking me yet," he chuckled. "And the pleasure," he said, kissing her quickly, "Is all mine, trust me."

Settling himself between her heavenly thighs, he rubbed his aching and throbbing cock at her core, feeling her wetness seep onto his member, coating it.

She hummed in delight and pulled him closer. "Please, Spike...please...I'm ready."

He paused. "Buffy...this is a crappy time to bring this up, but...what about protection?"

"You have met my mother right? Of courseI'm on the pill."

He chuckled, continuing to rub himself against her. He thought about teasing her, but then decided they'd both waited too long for this and grasping his cock, he lined himself up at her entrance and sunk in slowly, savoring her wet, tight heat.

"Jesus, you're tight," he muttered, shutting his eyes.

"That's good right?" she asked on a gasp. "Ooh! You're so big."

He smiled down at her, his eyes popping open. "You sure know how to make a bloke feel good, pet."

"I can feel you everywhere inside me...I feel so full!"

Her enthusiasm was intoxicating. With long strokes, he started to move within her, making sure to go slow to build up the tension. He wanted to pound into her, but he made himself go slow, wanting to make sure she enjoyed every part of this. The primal part in him wanted to make sure she remembered every single part of this, wanted her to feel him inside her even when he wasn't, wanted to mark her and make her his.

She was touching him everywhere, caressing, cooing, letting out breathy moans, murmuring "More, more, more," and "Yes, yes, yes." Instinctively, she thrust back at him with every lunge he took inside her.

Before he knew it, he was pounding into her, unable to stop himself as he watched the pleasure flit across her face with every stroke. He was nearing completiong and so he ran a hand down her slender body until he came to her clit and he started to rub it in circles.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. "Oh...Spike..."

"Yeah, baby? Talk to me," he breathed.

"You feel so good inside me," she moaned.

And faster he went at her words.

"How do you feel?" she asked him.

"I feel like I'm touching heaven...all in your glorious body...your warmth is burning me up all over...Buffy, baby, you feel so perfect..."

She came then, her head arching back slightly, her mouth opening in an "O", and then bursting out with "Spike, Spike, Spike...oh, God..."

Watching her come undone, sent him into his own orgasm and he came inside her with a gush, bathing her cervix with his cum. "Buffy!" he gasped. "Oh God, Buffy....Wanted you so much..."

Wrapping her arms around him, Buffy held her to him, and they both came down, murmuring to each other, nonsensical words. Even though Buffy couldn't hear the words, she felt that, and that was enough. Spike for his part, could not stop touching her and caressing her, telling her how perfect she was, how lovely, how sweet, how she was an angel, his angel...

It wasn't long before they were making love again, so insatiable for one another they were and this time, their coupling was harder and faster, a race to the finish line.

With her head on his chest after, Spike held her close to him, feeling at peace finally, feeling as though he'd come home. It jolted him, that feeling, but he opted not to dwell on it at that moment.

"I won a lot. Thank you," she whispered and he chuckled, kissing her forehead and holding her tighter as they both drifted off to sleep.

This time when Spike woke up with an armful of Buffy, he didn’t mind so much. In fact, he snuggled up closer to her, pulling her in tighter to his body – and hardening cock – to revel in the feel of her a bit longer.

Burying his face in her hair, he wondered what it would be like to wake up every morning like this with her.

Every morning. Every morning. Day in, and day out, not a change, the same woman, the same bed, the same everything every morning.

Okay, yeah, he could admit he wanted her, cared for her and needed her in his life, but he was not yet ready to admit anything beyond that. He was not yet ready to settle into her house and become an added fixture. He was still his own man.

You want her, you care for her, you need her…sounds a lot like love, mate, his mind argued.

It was then that Buffy stirred, moaned and then let out a breathy yawn. His cock was hard instantly.

“Mmmm,” she hummed and pulled his arms tighter around her.

Burying his face in her hair, he felt his heart expand in his chest. What kind of life could they have together? What could he offer her? He wasn’t rich; he wasn’t a gentleman, not really. She made him feel like a God, that was true, but what if she realized one day that she could do so much better than him? What if she wanted more than he could give? She deserved the world on a platter.

Abruptly, she spun his arms, giggling and smiling brightly at him. “Good morning, sunshine.”

God, she was beautiful and perfect and so many things he wasn’t. Don’t you dare fuck this up, Spike, his mind told him.

Like I have a choice, he said back. Inevitably it will happen. I will lose her.

That’s right. You keep thinking positive.

She frowned slightly and pressed the pad of her pointer finger in between his brows. “What’s wrong?” she asked, “You have the worry crease there.”

“I do huh?”

“Yeah, you do. You’re not…you don’t regret it do you?” she asked, and stiffened in his arms.

“No, luv, I’m not.” But one day you might regret me.

“Good,” she chirped and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. “I understand that morning sex is a perk of relationships.”

“You never had…?”

“No. Parker thought it was gross to do in the morning before a shower.”

“Was there anything he did like?” Spike asked, flabbergasted.

“Yeah, Gwen.”

“I might have to speak ill of the dead pet.”

Buffy giggled and flipped his hands over his head. “Can we save that for later?”

Feeling her breasts pressed against his chest, her hot core against his hard cock and soaking him already, he readily agreed with a nod of his head.

“Good,” she murmured and kissed him softly, slowly, and sweetly.

Cupping her bottom in his hands, he brought her closer, lifting her slightly.

“I want to try it,” she whispered, breaking the kiss and leaning back.

He knew what she meant, and he grinned up at her. Oh he was enjoying Parkers lack of adventure and appreciation for a real woman immensely.

"Take my cock in those hot little hands and put him inside you pet...yes, just like...oh fuck."

"That good?" she asked, as if she didn't know.

"Yes, perfect..." and placing his hands on her hips, he lifted her, guiding her into a rhythm with him. Her eyes fluttered close and she leaned forward, slightly, placing her hands on either side of his head.

Her breasts dangling before him, Spike leaned up and suckled one in his mouth, smiling when he heard her breathy moan. She was rocking on him faster, her walls were clenching him tight, and from the expression on her face, he knew she was close.

He wanted to make this last a little longer...

Spinning her on her back in a flash, he looked down at her surprised expression and grinned, rocking inside her slowly.

She clawed at him, begging him for more, and still slow he went, even resting inside her while he kissed her.

"Spike, please..."

"Tell me what you want...tell me and I'll do it," he said, sliding slowly out and then in.

"I want you to go faster and harder."

"Do you like my cock inside you, Buffy?"

Her eyes glazed over and she replied breathlessly, "Yes."

My girl likes dirty talk, he mused happily, Is there anything about her that isn't perfect for me?

"Do I make you wet?"

"Yes," she moaned.

"Do you want to cream all over my cock?"

Her eyes rolled up in her head as he started pumping her fast and hard. "Yes," she hissed.

Bending his head, he teased her nipples with his tongue, making them erect.

"Oh...Oh...Spike!" she shouted, her walls clamping down around him, trying to ring the cum out of him.

Her head arched back, and she let out a loud moan before grabbing him and kissing him hard. One, two, three thrusts later and he was cumming inside her.

Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against hers and gasped her name as he spilled inside her. "God, Buffy..." he murmured, "You make me cum so hard."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Definitely."

********

Watching her make them breakfast, watching the way her hips swayed, the way her smile came readily every time she looked at him, the way she glowed that morning, and the way she laughed easily, Spike felt himself be swept away by her. It was so easy to. She created a world for him that he felt safe in, that he felt he wanted so desperately to be part of. She touched something deep inside him that he thought was long dead. That ‘something’ being his heart.

His mind drifted back to the night she came into his life and how effortlessly she stepped into it. She never judged him when he felt he should be judged. She took him as he was and made no excuses for him, when really; he felt he made excuses for himself all the time. Scratch that: He hadn’t put that much self-analysis into it until Buffy pointed it out to him. She’d hit the nail on the head with him. He was hurt a couple times, betrayed, and he just curled up over that bump and lay down to die. Compared to some and what they went through in their life, his was cake.

Look at all she’s been through, Spike mused as he watched her scoop scrambled eggs onto his plate. She’s had to overcome obstacles all her life, and is she bitter? Does she carry them around like a cross she should be martyred to? No. She lives with them; does what she can, and hasn’t she been telling me it’s all anyone could do?

God, he was thinking like her now. He was well and truly under it wasn’t he? She was burrowing right under his skin—screw that, she was already there! She was setting up camp inside him, taking root, holding on…

Old fears, and yes baggage, came with that feeling, that knowledge that it was happening and he was powerless to stop it because one look at her face, at her smile, and he was irrevocably lost.

And she was smiling at him right now, making him forget that he was his own man and that he had to protect himself.

“I want to be used as bait,” she blurted out unceremoniously.

He blinked, “What?”

“I want to trap the murderer by using myself as bait. If he has been watching me or knows me, then he—“

“We talked about this. I said no,” he said sternly. Jesus, he couldn’t ever let her go for the simple fact that if he did, she’d be getting herself into trouble.

“But, Spike—“

“I said no, Buffy. End of discussion.”

“You have to know, being a cop, that there is merit to the idea.”

“There might very well be a lot of fucking merit to it, but you’re not doing it.”

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked curiously, not even demandingly. God, how did she do that? How did she just read him like that?

“Your hair brained ideas are what’s wrong.”

“No,” she shook her head, “Something else is bothering you. You forget I can read you.”

“Well, quit it!” he shouted and shoved his plate away, stalking off. The doorbell ringing caused him to head toward the door, thinking maybe there was some news and he could focus the …he didn’t even know what to call the feeling he was having. Uncertainty? Fear? Was he just overwhelmed? Lost? What was it? And how did he stop it whilst keeping Buffy near, but not too near?

Whipping the door open, he could hear Buffy coming around the corner. Finn stood there, flowers and some kind of box in hand, looking sad and pathetic.

Memories of the night before – of the bad parts came rushing back. What happened to Buffy while she was with Finn. How she as hurt. How she faced the murderer alone.

How she could have been killed.

And that was when Spike hauled off and decked Finn.

Finn crumpled to the ground under the smack of Spike’s fist and Buffy gasped and shouted, “Spike!” after seeing him fall.

Spike watched her rush around him and tend to Finn, which only served to fuel his fire further. Grabbing her arm, he hauled her off him and made her look at him. “He almost got you killed!” Spike shouted at her.

“What the fucking hell is going on in here?”

Angel was up.

Buffy glared at Spike and yanked herself free. “You didn’t have to hit him!”

“Who hit who?” Angel asked curiously, jogging up to see. He peered over Buffy’s shoulder at Finn who was now climbing to his feet. “Damn…” Angel whistled. “You did that?” he asked Spike.

Spike nodded. “Couldn’t help it,” he said, still looking at Buffy. “He hurt Buffy.”

“No, he didn’t,” Buffy spat, “The murderer hurt me.” And she went to tend to Finn once more.

Finn had his hand over his nose and Spike could see some blood leaking out. Buffy was helping Finn in the house, who was dutifully ignoring him under Buffy’s tender loving care. Cracking his neck, Spike clenched his jaw in annoyance and followed them to the bathroom while Angel picked up the mess that Finn had left behind.

Leaning in the doorway, Spike watched Buffy tend to Finn as though he were a child. “You’re lucky she cares what happens to you, Finn, cause I don’t.”

Finn ignored him.

“So, what? You think if you ignore me, I’m going to go away?”

Still, Finn ignored him.

“She’s not going to protect you when I tell Rayne to take you off the case.”

That snapped Finn out of it and his head whipped to Spike. “You can’t do that.”

Spike raised a brow. “I can’t? Watch me.”

Buffy spun to him, glared, and then pushed him out of the way, shutting the door and then locking it behind her.

Spike stared at the door, stunned at that, and angered even more. Stalking into the kitchen, he found Angel looking in amazement at the box, which was actually a velvet jewelry box that Finn had brought over.

Angel looked up at Spike and gestured toward the box, “Check this out.”

Coming over, Spike peered inside curiously. “What the fuck?” he muttered, taking the silver necklace with the sapphire pendant hanging from it out of the box. He held it up, studying it.

“That’s…well, not to sound like a chick,” Angel said, “But that’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah…and I’m sure very expensive.”

“Check it out, there’s even a card attached. All sealed up though,” Angel said, waving the white envelope around. “No doubt not for our prying eyes.”

Spike was about to grab it and open it anyway when Finn and Buffy emerged from the bathroom and were entering the kitchen.

Upon seeing Spike with the necklace he had for Buffy in his hand, Finn marched up and snatched it out of Spike’s hand, glaring at him while shoving the necklace back in the box.

Buffy shook her head at them, clearly disgusted by their behavior.

“Buffy, could I talk to you for a minute alone?” Finn asked.

“Absolutely not,” Spike barked at the same time Buffy said “Yes” and started to lead him away.

Spike growled, ready again to pummel something.

“So, uh, how much do you guys make anyway?” Angel mused. “I wasn’t aware cops could buy things like that.”

“They can’t,” Spike said simply, “And trust me; I intend to find out how he did.”

********

Riley sat down next to her on the living room couch, looking awkward and upset. His nose was swelling and while it wasn’t broken, Buffy did suggest that he get it looked at.

“Buffy, I didn’t mean to come over here today and have all this happen.”

“It’s not your fault, Riley. Spike was out of line.”

“And yet I do understand where he’s coming from. I’d most likely be the same way.”

Buffy smiled, “I find that hard to believe.”

Riley nodded earnestly, “I would if it came to your safety and well-being. It was the whole reason why I came over today.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sorry about what happened last night, Buffy. I should stayed close to you, should have gone to the bathroom with you. Well, not with you, I would have given you your privacy, but I should have stayed outside the door and kept watch…And gone in to make sure no one was hiding out in the stalls. You know, the whole standing on the toilet trick to hide—“

Oh boy, Buffy thought, while Riley rambled on. He seemed to be aware that he was, because finally, he stopped and heaved a deep sigh.

“I got you this,” he said and shoved the box to her.

Opening the box to reveal the necklace she briefly saw being waved around and held by her brother and Spike, Buffy gasped. It was gorgeous. Sparkling silver with a chain so fine, it was soft in her hand, and the sapphire was gorgeous, iridescent and simply beautiful.

He gave her this to apologize? That couldn’t be normal.

Looking at him, at his hopeful and eager face as he watched her behold the necklace, Buffy knew she could not accept it. It would just be leading him on in some way and she couldn’t do that to him.

“Riley, thank you so much for the thought, but I cannot accept this,” she told him as she placed the necklace back in the box.

His smile faltered. “What?”

“I simply can’t accept that. It’s not something you should be giving me, and certainly not as an apology.”

“But, I want you to have it.”

“I can’t, Riley, I’m sorry. You should save that for someone special—“

“You are someone special,” he said adamantly.

“Thank you, but I mean a…a girlfriend, Riley.” Buffy watched him, holding her breath on that one, hoping he’d caught her meaning.

He stared at her, at the box, and then at her again before grabbing the box. “I apologize,” he murmured.

Before he could walk away, Buffy grabbed his sleeve. “Riley, please don’t be upset. I do like you a great deal, but—“

“No, Buffy. You don’t have to apologize, its okay,” and he hurried away.

The poor guy. He got caught off guard by coming over and getting a punch in the face as soon as the door was open, and then she went and rejected him.

She felt bad. Some people got off on hurting others, but she was not one of them. Hurting someone like that was not fun, especially since she knew something about being hurt and being rejected.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder she looked up to see Spike standing over her. “What did you say to him?” he asked. “He looks like he just lost his best friend.”

“I couldn’t accept the necklace. Not that it’s any of your business,” she said haughtily and stood, facing him.

“Buffy—“

“You were out of line, Spike.”

“Apparently we don’t see eye to eye on this.”

Her eyes widened, “Ya think?”

“Buffy…you don’t get it…” he said, shaking his head and starting to walk away.

“Then explain it to me!” she exclaimed.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to her. “I told you last night I nearly went out of my mind to learn you got hurt. You. Got. Hurt. For me, it’s pretty simple. No matter that you were on a date, he should have been watching. He didn’t and you. Got. Hurt. What if the killer had…?” Spike shook his head, closing his eyes. When he opened his eyes, his blue eyes bore into her with their intensity. “If you’d gotten more than a slap, I wouldn’t have thought twice about doing much worse to Finn.”

Coming up to him, like a moth to a flame, she looked up at him imploringly. “What does that mean, Spike? That feeling…What does it mean?”

Please let it mean that you love me, or are at least falling, she begged him in her mind. Please.

Instead though, he stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, I’ve got an idea, you want to come with me?”

She frowned, feeling dejected. “Sure. What idea?”

“I want to do a little investigating of my own.”

“Sure,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Where are we going to go?”

“To see a sort of friend of mine.”

“Who?”

“Faith.”

Jealousy flared inside Buffy. “Oh?”

“Yeah, she has her ear to the ground if you know what I mean.”

“How is that?” Buffy asked. “She a snitch?”

“Only for me,” Spike grinned.

“Where is she?”

“Around. She’s a hooker.”

Buffy’s eyes bugged. “You know a hooker?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding almost proud. Was he purposefully trying to make her jealous?

“How is that…legal?”

“It’s not. Not really.”

She gave him a look. “I would say it’s not.”

“Well, she tells me she’s a female escort and I pretend not to know more than that.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

Spike shrugged, “That’s the way it is. You have a problem with that?”

Hmmm…Interesting. Was he now testing her? Cocking her head to the side, she eyed him curiously. “Should I have a problem with that? Do you want me to have a problem with that?”

“You can be anyway you want about it,” he said huffily. Yeah, he was testing her.

“Have you ever…sought her services?”

Spike grinned. “Would it bother you if I had?”

“Are you deliberately trying to make me jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

He stepped closer to her, so that he was inches from her, and he smiled. “Maybe I’d like it. Maybe it’d turn me on to know you were jealous.”

“Would it?”

He nodded slowly, waiting for her reaction. Waiting, she imagined, for her to admit that she was. Except, that she wasn’t going to play that game with him even if she was jealous—and she was. Simply because he wanted her to be, and simply because he’d goaded her into it. He wanted something from her, and what that was exactly, she hadn’t figured out, but she knew her reaction would prove something very vital to Spike.

With that in mind, she leaned up so that her lips were just inches from his. He watched her intently, his eyes glittering with anticipation.

“Well, Spike,” she whispered. “I’m not.” And she pulled back, smiled brightly and bounced away.

*********

Coupled with Buffy’s jealousy was the wildly curious part of her that wanted to meet this Faith and see Spike at work. She wanted to see how the other half lived, and how a cop did their job. She wasn’t much into cop or detective type shows, but being up close and personal with it, she couldn’t help but be fascinated and curious.

Even if it was a hooker and even if Spike was intent on being vague about whether or not he’d been with her. She sure wasn’t going to let him know it was eating away at her. No way. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. It actually pissed her off that he’d tried to goad her into something. Why? What was the point? Had her reaction pleased him or pissed him off?

Looking sidelong at him as he silently drove on their way ‘downtown’, he didn’t seem upset or mad. He seemed fine, but then again, Spike could sometimes be the master of hiding his emotion.

Man, Buffy wished she had that gift. Maybe right about now, it’d be a help. Buffy wasn’t stupid, she’d sensed a change in him from last night. He put a wall up; distanced himself. She wasn’t sure if he regretted last night, and really, she couldn’t allow herself to dwell on that. If she did, she’d go mad.

Perhaps the problem was that she’d made herself to accessible to him. She’d pretty much lain herself bear for him and maybe that was nothing more than a turn off for him. Maybe he needed more of a challenge; needed more of a hunt. Anya had wanted more from him than he wanted to give, and that had been what caused her downfall. So, maybe it was all a matter of playing a little hard to get, a little nonchalant, a little indifferent to the attention he was giving or not giving.

Or maybe there just needed to be no games. Buffy hated games. Always had. She always much rather preferred getting down and dirty than beating around the bush. And, for all of Spike’s claiming that he was a no holds barred, straight-to- the-point kind of guy, he really wasn’t at times. He withheld and dodged, weaved and avoided.

It was rather annoying. Too bad her heart had already decided it wanted him….Though…he didn’t to have know that, did he?

No, he didn’t. So, maybe in the game she had to play, that was the ace up her sleeve.

Maybe.

Games usually had the tendency to blow up in one’s face, and Buffy wasn’t up for this to blow up in her face at all.

*********

They were meeting Faith in a pizza shop that certainly looked as though it should have been closed down a thousand times over.

Spike sat back in the wooden red booth casually, and watched Buffy sip a soda and watch the door like a hawk. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet on the ride and he wasn’t sure what to think of that. In fact, she’d been pretty quiet since she’d questioned him before they left about what he was going to ask Faith.

“What are you thinking, kitten?” he asked, tapping her hand so she’d look at him.

“What?”

“What are you thinking?”

She shrugged and stared at the door. “Not really thinking anything.”

He tapped her hand again and when she looked at him, he asked. “I don’t believe that.”

She shrugged again. “Do you meet her here often?”

“Sometimes.”

“Where else do you meet her?”

“At the gym around the corner or on the street.”

“Oh.”

“Never seen a hooker huh?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Is your virtue going to be all a flutter from this?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Okay, fine then.

He turned to face her and she looked at him. “Yes?” she snipped at him.

“I was never with her.”

“Well, Spike, you’ve made it perfectly clear to me from the start that you can do as you please. You have no ties to anyone right?”

“Well, yeah,” he said slowly.

“Then it shouldn’t matter to me what you do, or what you’ve done. You don’t really go for that sort of thing.”

“But I already told you that it’d turn me on for you to be jealous.”

“Right, well, I’m not about to be made to feel guilty either. That just seems a bit needy to me.”

“Now, look here—“

“Spike.”

Whipping his head over his shoulder, he found a fresh-from-the-gym Faith. Her brunette locks were pulled back in a pony, her usual pound of makeup was gone, and her tight and accentuating-of-all-her-features attire was gone. She wore running pants and a tank. Sliding into the booth she nodded towards Buffy. “Hey.”

Buffy nodded slowly, “Hey.”

“So, is this a new one?” Faith said to Spike, nodding toward Buffy.

“Faith, we’re not here to talk about my personal life, all right?” Spike said, annoyed.

Faith shrugged, “Fine, whatever. But if you want the goods, you might want to be nicer to me.”

“Are you hungry?” Buffy asked Faith.

Faith stared at her. “What?”

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” Faith said slowly. “What’s her deal?” she asked Spike.

“It’s called being polite,” Spike drawled. “Maybe you should look into it.”

“You’re one to talk, asshole.”

“Shut up. Look, I need to know if you’ve heard of anyone taking out a club owner recently,” Spike said, cutting to the chase.

Faith sighed, “No, I can’t say I have. Things have been eerily quiet, which is never a good sign.”

“You don’t say.”

“When things get quiet, it usually means something’s going down and people are scared by it.”

“That so?”

“Right. And you know who I’ve seen hanging around with some of the thugs?”

“Who?”

“Your pal, Finn.”

“What?” Spike said, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing him around here at odd times. He’s always carrying food with him. I’m telling you man, he’s bad news.”

“How do you figure?”

“Why else would he be hanging around with thugs?”

“To get information like I do from you?” Spike said matter-of-factly.

“Fuck you man, he’s up to something, mark my words.”

“Or you’re just afraid he’s gonna sniff you out and then rat you out.”

“Yeah, and he does that, then I just turn around and rat your ass out.”

Spike glared at her. “Why do I seek your counsel?”

Faith grinned. “Cause I get the goods when I know what you’re looking for.”

“Well, now you know. So off with you already.”

“Peace out,” and she slid out of the booth.

“Faith,” Spike called and she stopped, turning to him.

“Yeah?”

“Find out what you can on Finn.”

Nodding, Faith waved at Buffy and left.

Buffy stared at her retreating form. “Did we learn anything?” she asked, turning to Spike. “I feel like we didn’t learn anything.”

“We learned something, all right.”

“Like what?”

“Finn, our modern day Leave it to Beaver, the poster boy for upright citizen, is possibly getting his hands dirty.”

“What does that have to do with my case?”

“Possibly nothing. But, I’ve also learned in this life that sometimes you just never really know a person, and often by the time you do, it’s too late.”

“I want Finn taken off the case,” Spike told his stepfather after him and Buffy’s visit with Faith.

Sergeant Rayne looked up at him from the paperwork in front of him. “What?”

“I want Finn taken off the case,” Spike repeated, feeling already annoyed that he’d been ignored the first time. He swore it was a power trip for Rayne to make people repeat themselves and wait for him to be ready. If he did the same thing, he’d be ripped a new one and labeled “insubordinate”, and it got harder and harder each time for Spike to keep his mouth shut. Clenching his jaw something fierce, Spike met his stepfather’s ice blue eyes unwaveringly.

“Why?” Rayne asked simply.

“He’s too close to the case, I want him off.”

“Some could say the same for you,” Rayne said matter-of-factly, leaning back in his wooden swivel chair and causing it to creek, his fingers pressed together, almost as if in prayer.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Spike blurted out angrily.

“The little display you had last night when Miss Summers came in here. And don’t think Officer Finn didn’t call to tell me that you punched him this morning.”

“He went on a sodding date with her last night in which she got hurt by the sodding murderer! I don’t give a rat’s ass if he goes on a date with the girl--”

“Yes, you do.”

Spike glared at him. “Not the point.”

“Isn’t it? You’re accusing Finn of being too close to the subject, but as far as I can see, you are as well.”

“You’re going to keep him on to spite me, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not keeping him on to spite you.”

“Thank you.”

“But I am keeping him on.”

“Are you daft?” Spike asked incredulously.

Rayne bolted up from his chair. “You better watch your mouth, boy!”

“You’re being an idiot! With the way you do things half-assed, you’re going to run this precinct into the sodding ground, you cocky bastard!”

“Who would do better then?” Rayne demanded; his face red with anger. “You? Your father?”

“You keep my father out of this,” Spike said through clenched teeth. “You got what you wanted, all that you wanted, so you keep my father out of this.”

Rayne softened, his anger seeming to leave him in an instant. “Spike, listen--”

“No, I’ve done enough of that,” Spike bit out and stalked off, slamming the door behind him, causing several heads to pop up from their desks.

His eyes zeroed in on Buffy who was sitting at his desk, waiting like a good girl, and talking to his mother. Could the day get any worse? Rolling his eyes, Spike made his way over and waited for Buffy to realize he was standing there, waiting for her.

She looked over at him, smiling. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he grunted.

“Hello, dear,” his mother said softly. “How are you?”

He looked at his mom; her straw-colored curls were pulled up in a loose bun, some strands cascading down her face. Her green eyes were warm and hopeful and yet guarded, as if she knew instinctively not to expect a warm welcome from him. She was a tiny woman, his mother was, and getting on in years, though you’d never know it by looking at her. She was quite active and spry; she was always on the go, unable to sit still for very long at all. She had a quick mind and was inquisitive about everything. He inherited a lot from his mom; however, his father had been the same way. Rupert Giles was incredibly smart, sometimes too smart for his own good. He’d had a temper, though unlike Spike, he was slow to anger, but once provoked…it was best to run for cover.

Glancing briefly at her, he nodded, “Fine.”

“Your mother was just telling me how you used to play cops and robbers in your backyard with your father,” Buffy told him.

Spike’s mood darkened considerably. “Come on, Buffy, it’s time to go,” he said and hauled her up by her elbow.

“William honey, would you like to stop by for lunch? I came by quickly to see your stepfather, and I’m on my way home—“

“No, thanks, we already ate,” Spike said quickly.

“No, we haven’t,” Buffy corrected.

Spike glared down at her, “Well, we’re going to.”

“Honey, come over, I’ll make your favorite ham and swiss wraps--”

“No, thanks, mother,” Spike said and dragged Buffy to the door.

Once outside, Buffy freed herself from his bruising grasp and turned on him. “What the hell is your problem?”

“What?” Spike said, throwing up his hands. “What did I do wrong now?”

“She was trying, Spike. Extending the olive branch to you.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck if she was extending the whole damn tree!”

“You know what she was saying to me? She was telling me what a good cop you are and how smart you are. She was singing you praises, talking about how proud she is of you and how lucky I am to have you protecting me. I agreed with her.”

“No doubt trying to get you on her side so you can do this!”

“And what is it I’m doing?”

“Turning on me.”

“No, Spike,” Buffy said, shaking her head. “I’m not turning on you. You turn on yourself. You truly are your own worst enemy.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Buffy so don’t you dare fucking start with me!”

“I do know what I’m talking about and that’s why you’re so angry with me right now. I understand that you hold a lot of resentment for her, and that you feel betrayed by her behavior, and I don’t blame you. But she does love you Spike and I think if you just tried to talk with her, maybe you could work it out—”

“God, what is this? How am I the one being ganged up on today?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. You never do anything wrong to warrant anyone getting upset with you. You have reserved the right to be angry at the world for what’s gone wrong and to never take responsibility for your own actions when you do mess up. I apologize for that mistake and I won’t let it happen again,” Buffy retorted sarcastically.

“How have I messed up today?”

“Did you want that alphabetically or numerically?”

Spike glared at her. “Surprise me.”

“Well, first I ask you what’s wrong this morning when you started being distant with me, and I got my head bitten off for it--”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Excuse me for not feeling the need to talk about my feelings.”

“Then you punched Riley.”

“He had it coming, he got you hurt, you were in danger.”

“And then you deliberately goaded him. You acted like a child.”

“I’m so sorry that I’m not as perfect as you.”

Marching up to him, Buffy got in his face, “I am not perfect. If you think that I am, then it’s you that made up that perception of me. Not only did you provoke Riley into something today, but then you provoked me. You tried deliberately to make me jealous and I am not going to be played like that.”

“You were jealous,” Spike whispered, his eyes blazing.

“Yes, I was, but that’s not the point. You have issues you need to work out then fine, work them out, but don’t work them out on me. I am not going to be your punching bag and I am not going to let you take me down with you while you’re self-destructing.”

“And just how am I self-destructing?”

“By closing yourself off from those that care about you. I’m not saying that you have to go in there and give your mom a big ol’ hug and act as if nothing happened, but I don’t see how you couldn’t at least try to talk with her. She’s not stupid, Spike, she knows you can’t stand to even look at her right now.”

“Then she shouldn’t have married my goddamn uncle and cheated on my father!”

“No, she shouldn’t have, but it’s done now. There’s no going back, the only thing you can do is move forward.”

“Stop trying to tell me how to live my life!”

“Stop pushing me away! I care about you and I can see how unhappy you are, and I just want to help,” Buffy said, nearly pleading with him.

He walked away from her then, needing the space from the intensity of their discussion to clear his head. His head was hurting and he felt tears sting his eyes. He refused to give into them even if he knew it would do him good.

Climbing in the car without a word, he watched her stare off at him, sigh, and then head toward the car to join him.

**********

Spike watched from the window as Buffy and Finn chatted on the sidewalk in front of her house. His fists clenched when she touched his face tentatively and Finn leaned into her touch, bestowing her with a goofy and sappy grin. And all this despite the brush off he’d received from her that morning.

What an idiot.

He felt something burning inside him as he watched them. It wasn’t just jealousy he was feeling at watching them, it was something else.

Desire.

He was looking for an outlet to the emotions swirling around inside him, most of which she’d provoked in him. Yeah, he’d wanted her good and jealous this morning. Wanted her to feel the sting he felt when she went out with Finn. He wanted to experience her jealousy, feel her possession of him wash over him and cover him like a blanket—he wanted to know he was worth getting jealous over.

She’d admitted it too, but it’d taken all damn day, stubborn bint. Buffy Summers, he realized, was not one for games, and well, could he blame her? He hated them too, and yet he’d played them with her. She hadn’t pulled an Anya, hadn’t yelled at him or demanded something from him. No, she’d let him know that she wasn’t going to play his game and if wanted something from her, he was going to have to ask for it. Nicely. And wasn’t that what he’d wanted all along – a woman that didn’t play games and demand things from him? So, what had he done? He’d played the game instead. Irony at its best.

Watching her come back to the house, Spike watched her intently. He was going to make sure he made it loud and clear what he wanted when she came inside so that there were no misunderstandings at all.

Coming inside, she looked at him standing in the foyer, arms crossed and eyes glittering. Her look of apprehension excited him and his lips curled into a slight, feral grin.

“Hi,” she said slowly, “What are you doing?”

He lunged at her, causing her back to hit the closed door with the force of his pounce. With hands on either side of her head, and his pelvis pressing into her, she was trapped.

“Wh--” she started, but never finished as his lips came crashing down upon hers. His hands left the wood of the door and found the hem of her shirt, pushing up until her bra-covered breasts were in his hands. She moaned into the kiss and he kissed her harder. He wanted her to know that she was his, his and no one else’s. It went beyond the simple jealousy he felt at Finn; this was deeper, more primal and savage. There was a name for it, too, and he wasn’t yet ready to put voice to it.

Soon, though. He felt it was going to take him over soon and even as he touched her, he felt it coming closer, bubbling up inside him. That should have been enough of an impetus to stop, to gain some distance, yet he couldn’t. He was powerless against her.

Her arms were around him, pulling him closer to her, clawing at him and begging him for more. She didn’t have to beg; he was going to give it to her all right. He was going to give her everything she asked for and more.

Shoving a hand down her pants, she gasped when his finger found her wet folds and stroked steadily in and out of her, circling round her clit and then again in and out of her. She was clutching at him, using him to hold her up.

Well then, what would she do if…

And he dropped to his knees, yanking her pants down and taking her panties with them. He dove in unceremoniously, licking her sweet nectar from her soft nether lips.

“Oooh…” she moaned and dug her fingers in his hair.

He licked, sucked and nibbled, probing deep inside with his tongue before sliding a finger inside her and playing a steady beat with his tongue on her clit. She came, screaming his name and showering him with her juices that he lapped up hungrily. Standing, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the living room, laying her on the couch. She looked up at him, waiting anxiously to see what he was going to do next.

Grinning unrepentantly, he yanked off her shoes and socks, and pulled her panties and pants off completely, dropping them on the floor carelessly. Lying on top of her, he pushed her top up and off and pushed her bra up, suckling at her milky white breasts.

“Oooh…Spike,” she murmured gyrating her hips against him as he devoured her.

Rearing back, he looked down at her, spread out for him. Impatient fingers worked her bra off with her help, and then he whipped his shirt off. He went for the buttons on his pants, when her hands covered his and she undid them for him.

He was trembling now. The need to be inside her was great and he was shaking with it. When she unzipped him and pushed his pants over his hips and took him in her hot mouth, Spike’s eyes screwed shut and he knew he wasn’t going to last long, not with her sucking him in abandon as if he were a treat she just couldn’t get enough of.

He pushed her back, a little more forcefully than he wanted, and she looked up at him, hurt.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, luv,” he quickly assured her, discarding his jeans and socks. “I don’t want to shoot off in your mouth; I want to be inside you.”

She nodded and lifted her arms to accept him into the haven of her body.

Oh, God. The tears were coming back with a vengeance. She was so accepting of him, even after he’d been so difficult that day. Even after he’d distanced himself from her and tested her, tried to make her jealous and make him wonder about him and his intentions, after he’d punched Finn and screamed at her in the precinct parking lot.

Burying his face in her neck, he slid inside and wept. Each dive inside her body had him chanting I love you, I love you, I love you in his mind, hoping she could feel it, sense it and let him know somehow…

Pushing at him, she made him look at her. Smiling softly at him, she cupped his face in her hands and gazed at him. The wealth of emotion pouring from her eyes told him just what he needed to know.

She loved him. She did. This angel loved him. His angel.

“You were made for me,” he said to her and kissed her deeply, probing deep inside her with his cock and his tongue, wanting all of her for him.

He knew too, that he had to give and even if he couldn’t yet say the words, even if he didn’t know all the ways to let her know, even if he was inept at times and fumbled through his feelings and his life…he loved her with his whole being and was so afraid to lose her that his soul tremored and his heart ached at the thought. He had met his match in her, and he would not give her up for the world, even if one day she decided that she wanted no part of him, he would stay by her, hoping to one day find a way to bask in her light again.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he watched the play of emotions flit across her face, but one remained the same, ever clear and ever present: Love. Her love for him. It wasn’t her jealousy he felt cover him, it was her love, and it didn’t just cover him, it encompassed every single part of him, bursting in starbursts through him, causing his heart to leap, his throat to clog and every sense to be full of her. It was Buffy, all Buffy.

Pounding inside her, he hoped to convey through his touch, his caresses and him inside her, that she meant everything to him and that without her, he’d be lost.

Please don’t make me say it just yet, Buffy, he pleaded with her.

Her eyes rolled up and she snapped her lids tight, gasping “Yes! Oh, God, yes, Spike!”

That was all it took to have him spilling inside her, roaring her name, his head thrown back as he pumped his seed inside her.

Collapsing against her, he nuzzled her neck, kissed her unhurriedly, and smiled at her.

Gazing up at him searchingly, she gave voice to that which he feared. “I love you,” she told him, her eyes welling with tears.

Unable to hurt her by not being yet able to say it back, and not wanting to see her face as it crumbled in disappointment under his inability to express himself properly, Spike buried his face back in her neck, holding her tightly to him, trying to show her with his body that he was never going to let her go.

She held him to her in the soft afterglow, his head upon her shoulder, his arms woven around her, keeping her close to him. Her fingers played with the curls on his crown, twining her fingers round them, and soothing him with her gentle touch.

She looked down at him and her stomach growled. She winced on a smile. “Did you hear that? I think my belly just growled; I could feel it.”

He grinned at her, “Yeah, I heard it,” and he placed his hand on her belly. A thought came unbidden to his mind of her, holding his baby inside her. He shrugged it off, not dwelling on it.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“I guess,” he shrugged.

“You guess?”

“I don’t want to leave here right now,” he told her honestly. “I like being here like this.”

She burrowed deeper into the couch, sliding a leg over his hip and kissing him softly. “Me too.”

“Buffy, I--”

She looked up at him, studying him expressionless.

“I—I don’t want you to be with anyone else.”

She smiled, “I don’t plan on it.”

“And I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“You don’t?”

He shook his head, “No, I don’t. I want…I want to be with you.”

“I’d like that,” she whispered. “I like when you’re with me.”

“I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you today,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry I pushed you so hard today.”

“When?”

“Your mother.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I realize I might have overstepped my bounds and I apologize for that. I have no right to pass judgment on what it feels like for you or what you should do in regards to that whole situation. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if either of my parents did that, though, I wouldn’t necessarily blame my father if he did.”

“Buffy, I’m shocked!” he said, grinning.

“You have met her, right?”

He laughed, “You never cease to surprise me.”

“You don’t think I’m boring?”

He gaped, “Boring? Are you kidding? Where would get an idea like that?”

“Parker.”

“That wanker.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not going to scold me for speaking ill of the dead?”

“Nah, what’s the point? I pretty much agree.”

He smothered her in a kiss, chuckling into it. Pressing her into the couch, he shivered when his hardening cock lined up with her center and rubbed against her.

Cooing at him, she brought his head down for a kiss. The kiss started out gentle and slow, and built in its passion and intensity. Soon, he was hard as a rock and rubbing his erection against her folds.

“Let me inside, kitten,” he murmured, “Let me inside the juicy quim of yours.”

She spread her legs for him and he sunk inside her, both of them sharing a moan of completion. He rocked inside her, taking his time making love to her slowly, tenderly. There was no rush as they murmured to each other, nonsensical words that only they understood. Their moans and sighs were like a symphony and their bodies were the instruments they were playing in perfect execution.

“I love you, Buffy,” Spike whispered in her hair, “I love you so much. Please don’t leave me, ever; I couldn’t bear it if you did.”

“Spike,” she murmured, tugging on him to look at her. “What did you say?” she asked breathlessly.

“Just sayin’ how good you feel, kitten.”

“Mmm…you feel good too.”

“How good?” he asked, brushing hair from her face, his eyes boring into hers. “Describe it, I want to know.”

“You’re so hard…”

“Yeah?” he encouraged, pumping faster.

“And so smooth inside me. You’re so deep inside me…”

Putting his hands under her bottom, he lifted so that her pelvis tilted. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he penetrated deeper inside her.

“Ah, yes…like that, Spike, just like that…”

“My girl going to cum?”

“Yes…all over your big cock inside me…want you to cum inside me…I love it when I can feel you cum inside me…”

“Oh, God, Buffy…” he moaned, swiveling his hips slightly.

She gasped. “Ooh…right there.”

He grinned, “Like…” and he thrust hard inside her, hitting her clit, “That?”

“Yes,” she hissed and he did it again.

When her walls clamped down around him, squeezing him into oblivion, she moaned loudly and brought his face down to kiss him hard. “I love you,” she whispered into his mouth and kissed him again.

Hearing those words sent him over the edge and he let go, jerking inside her.

When their breathing was normal once more, Buffy’s belly growled once more and she giggled, running her fingers across his sweat-slicked brow. “I’m really hungry now.”

“Stay there, luv,” he told her, rolling off her. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll get you something to eat.”

*********

Buffy was learning the joy of loving someone coupled with the heartbreak of them not being able to say it back.

She saw it in his eyes when he made love to her, could see the love he had for her and it had prompted her to tell him what was in her heart. She’d always been of the opinion that what was the point of having feelings if you couldn’t express them? And what she saw was real right? He did love her...right? He had to, no one could fake that look.

Buffy had in that moment let go of her earlier conviction to not tell him, and let it fly free. She desperately wanted to hear the words, wanted him to put voice to his feelings, and not just because she wanted to know that what she saw in his eyes was the real thing, but because she really thought that if he could just let go of some of his control he'd find himself a lot happier.

And wasn't that what love was all about? Wanting the one you loved to be happy? And she did love him, so very much...and he did love her, too...right?

********

Spike stood in the kitchen feeling like a coward for not just fucking telling her. What the hell was wrong with him?

Oh, let me count the ways...

What would be lost if he just told her? He felt it, so what was wrong with just saying it. It'd probably make her feel good to know.

He'd have everything to gain and nothing to lose...conceivably. Really, though? He felt as though he'd have more to lose. Saying it out loud, putting it out there, letting her know could give her power over him. She could smite him if she chose. If she left him, knowing how he felt....but she'd said it. She loved him. How was it that she wasn't afraid? Though, she wasn't afraid of much, that woman.

God, he could learn so much from her. How to let go, how to embrace what you felt and let it take you over...he'd done it while he made love to her and by God, it had been a spiritual experience. Having sex when you loved someone made all the difference in the world.

So, then, what was the problem? Bad things happen when that word gets flung around. What if she left me? Then what? I'd be lost. What happens to me if I say it? Though, nothing has happened and I feel it. She hasn't made me change...at least not in ways I don't want to, or need to. She’s not Anya, she’s not her mother and she’s definitely not my mother or Dru…so then what’s the problem? Is it a simple matter of changing how I look at things? And isn’t that what she’s been telling me to do all along?

The doorbell ringing made him jump and he dropped the mustard he was using to make Buffy a ham sandwich on the counter. It splattered all over him. Jesus, good thing I’m naked. He was then gripped with fear -- Christ, I hope it’s not Angel having come back!

Straining, he heard Buffy talking to someone that sounded very much like….Finn. What the hell? Growling, Spike wiped himself off quickly and quickly peeked into the living room. She was dressed, though he could tell she’d hastily put them on, her pants were on correctly, but her shirt was on backwards and inside out. Her hair was completely mussed. He grinned. He’d done that.

He had an urge to call for her, but she wouldn’t hear him. Thinking fast he remembered the robe that was hanging in the downstairs bathroom and he ran to get it. He thanked whatever powers he had to that the robe was not frilly and girly, but plain white. Slipping it on, he strolled to the door, whistling.

He could hear Finn saying something about food and he could hear the rustling of what sounded like a paper bag.

Sidling up next to Buffy he grinned at Finn. “What do you want?”

Finn looked startled and then hurt. He looked down, shuffled his feet and then looked back up, but at Buffy. “So, yeah, I uh, brought this sub over. I know you like steak and cheese.” Hadn’t Faith said… “He’s always carrying food with him.”?

“Thanks, Riley, you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I was out getting food for me and Gunn, so it was no problem.”

So then, what is he doing when he goes to get them food? Spike wondered. And does he always go? Next line of questioning will be with Gunn…

“Mmm..steak and cheese,” Spike mused, taking the bag. “Thanks.”

Finn glared at him, “It’s not for you.”

Snatching the bag from him, Buffy glared, sending him the message to cut it out. Spike shrugged.

“See ya, mate,” Spike said and flung the door shut.

Buffy made to open the door, to say a proper goodbye no doubt, but Spike stopped her by wrapping his arms around her. “Now, now, luv. He’s gone off like a good boy.” For now.

She was unable to move in his embrace, so all she could do was shoot daggers at him with her eyes. “Why do you have to be such a jerk to him? You don’t have to rub it in his face that I rejected him and look at you—in a robe! He’s going to think--”

“That we just made mad, passionate love?”

She blushed and her expression softened instantly. I did that, he thought proudly.

“So what if he thinks that? It’s true isn’t it? And besides, he could think I'm heading for the shower. The only thing that might give it away is the fact that your hair is a mess, and your shirt is on backwards and inside out.”

She blushed even deeper, and her expression turned to one of horror. “No!”

“Yep,” he replied grinning.

Pushing out of his arms, she looked down at herself. She looked up at him, mortified and worried, “Does that mean you’ll be taken off the case?”

“For?”

“For…you know?”

“Making mad, passionate love to you?”

She smiled, “Yes.”

“No. If he’s not taking Finn off the case for almost getting you killed--”

“Spike--”

“Then, he’s not going to take me off the case. Especially if he can’t even prove anything. And you have final say anyway…you don’t want me to go, do you?”

Flinging herself in his arms, she kissed him quickly. “No, I don’t.”

“Then no worries, luv….So, what do you say we get you out of these now, hmmm?”

In two seconds flat, Buffy was buck naked once more and two seconds after that she was on her back and on the couch once more as well.

Later that night, Buffy and Spike lay facing each other in her bed on their stomachs. From time to time Spike would run his hand up and down her back, trace the curves and dents and marvel at how soft her skin was.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you thinking about Riley?”

“I’m really not thinking of Riley at the moment, luv,” he said, grinning. “I’m thinking about you.”

“I’m right here, though.”

He grinned, “That doesn’t mean I still can’t think about you even when you’re right here.”

She smiled. “What are you thinking about me?”

“How beautiful you are. How sweet and kind…how you’re unlike any woman I have ever met.”

“That a good thing?”

“A great thing,” he said, nodding.

“You’re unlike any man I’ve ever met.”

“That a good thing?”

“Yes. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you give me strength, Spike.”

“How so?”

“I feel safe with you here; you make me feel that the murderer is going to get caught, that I am going to get through it all and that he won’t get the best of me.”

“Luv,” Spike mused, gliding his hand down her back, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve done that well enough on your own. I’ve never known anyone bounce back from something as horrible as what you’ve been through so easily.”

“It’s not real, Spike. It’s fake.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, just like you, I am good at hiding my feelings. My fear and my worry anyway. Growing up, I adopted this kind of stoic façade so no one would know what I was really feeling until I shared. You’ve…well, you’ve gotten shown a lot of what I feel. The only other person I let see those things is Angel.”

“I’m honored.”

“You should be.”

Leaning over, Spike kissed her softly. “I am.”

“He will be caught, right?” Buffy asked softly.

“He will Buffy, I promise you that.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“He will.”

“But--”

“He will. Stop worrying your pretty head over that.”

“What if he gets to me, or you, or Angel before that happens?”

Wrapping his arm about her, he gripped her tightly. “Don’t you talk like that, you hear me? Don’t. He’s not going to hurt any of us, least of all you, you understand me?”

“Yes, but Spike--”

“If you think you’re gonna start on your ‘use me as bait’ tirade now, forget it.”

“But if it was carefully planned and I had protection—“

“No.”

She studied him carefully, “Is this one of those times where you let your feelings come before your job?”

Glaring at her, he sat up and she followed suit. “Yes, it is,” he said simply, watching as she pulled the sheet up to her, covering herself.

“Isn’t that a job hazard?”

He shrugged, “In this case, I don’t care. I’d saw off my own right arm before I’d let anything happen to you, Buffy.”

That was as close to a love confession as he was going to get for now, Buffy wagered, and that was fine with her. For now anyway.

“Really?” she asked, with something akin to awe.

“Yes, really. God, you just don’t get…the thought of you in danger chills me to the bone. I couldn’t bear it, Buffy, and if something happened to you and I knew that I’d help put you in that situation…I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Snuggling up to Spike, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him softly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, love. It’s me who should be thanking you.”

“For?”

“For being you.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts of their relationship, which felt both secure and tenuous, and of the case which was a mystery laced with danger. The answer felt close, and yet not, at least that’s how Spike felt. He felt as if he were on the verge of figuring it out, but just needed a little bit more to seal it…

“Spike, I just thought of something.”

He looked down at her, “What?”

“I never told Riley I liked steak and cheese subs.”

“Well…isn’t that something, then?”

“Yeah, he’s…a stalker.”

“Mmmm…” Or perhaps something more than just that, Spike mused.

********

The following morning after a romp to the start the day the right way, Spike and Buffy had breakfast, and while Buffy tended to her flowers in the backyard, Spike took it upon himself to have a chat with Gunn. How he was going to do so without Finn overhearing, he wasn’t sure, but he was certain he’d come up with something.

He wasn’t all that surprised to find that actually, Finn wasn’t even there. “Where is he?” Spike asked, without preamble.

“Gone to get us breakfast.”

“He walk?”

“He walks everywhere.”

“He take off often?”

“Anytime he can.”

“You get tired of it?”

“Yeah, pretty much tired of him, if you want to know the truth. Spending as much time with a guy as we have, you tend to get tired of them. Except for you with Buffy huh?” Gunn grinned.

Spike’s eyes narrowed, “What are you on about?”

“Well, Riley was all riled up last night after he brought her that sub. He was muttering to himself and going on and on about how you weren’t good enough for her and how he just knew something was going on. I told him to chill out about it, and he just clammed up, wouldn’t talk.”

“He’s got it bad for her then.”

“Pretty bad, I’d say, but he’s weird about that sort of thing though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Gunn began, “He’s so tight-lipped most of the time. When he talks, it’s most often about correct procedure, stupid cop things that no one gives a shit about hearing or, it’s about Buffy.”

“So, he’s the model cop, or at least tries to show he is.”

“Tries to…I mean, no one can be that perfect. And you see how he kisses Rayne’s ass…”

“Yeah,” Spike said with an eye roll, “I have. What does he say about Buffy?”

“Just how sweet and pretty she is, how she didn’t deserve what’s happened to her. He’s alluded that he could probably do a better job protecting her than you have.”

Spike narrowed his eyes. “That so? That why she ended up with the murderer in the bathroom smacking her across the face?”

“Yeah, he feels bad about that. He beats himself up over it to the point that it’s just ridiculous. I think if given the chance, he’d be her personal bodyguard for life.”

“Don’t you find it…creepy?”

Gunn gave him a pointed look, “Dude, I find him creepy, period. I’m telling you, that man has a dark side in there underneath that wholesome façade. And when he cracks, he’s really gonna crack.”

“Sooner than later?”

“Who knows with him.”

“What do you want?” Looking up, Spike spied Finn making his way to the car, glaring at him.

“Came to see how you boys were doing is all,” Spike told him. He nodded toward the bags in his hand. “Filling up on snacks?”

Finn just nodded and threw the bags in the car. “How’s Buffy?”

“She’s fine. Hey, how did you know she liked steak and cheese subs?”

Finn gave him a look of superiority. “I pay attention.”

“To the point of stalking?”

Finn shook his head, “Why don’t you go and do your job, Spike?”

Spike nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, think I’ll do that.”

Sauntering over to Buffy’s yard, he met with Angel coming out of the house.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Angel asked, nodding toward Finn and Gunn. “Something happen?”

“Sort of.”

“Oh? Something helpful?”

“Perhaps.”

“You gonna tell me?”

“Not just yet,” Spike said walking away.

“Why not?” Angel called after him.

“I’m still theorizing.”

“Will you let me know when you’re done?”

Looking over his shoulder, Spike grinned. “When I’m done, everyone’s gonna know about it."

Everything had been quiet for about a week. Not that Spike suspected a huge fallout. Murderers, or well, criminals in general didn’t work like that. They took their time, planned and plotted just right. Some did anyway. The seasoned ones that watched other criminals blunder and get caught time and again studied what not to do and then carefully made it a point to do everything. Just. Right.

Stalkers were sort of the same way. Though they had an impatience and impetuousness about them that prevented their carefully laid plans from coming through. Their desire to get to the ‘prize’ took over all else, especially when they thought the object of their desire might fall into someone else’s graces.

Spike was actually surprised he and Buffy had not been disrupted by Finn. Well, they’d been disrupted all right, on a daily basis –oftentimes more than twice—but it was not to the caliber that Spike figured it would be. He made no threats to him, made no comments, he came to talk to Buffy about trivial things like watering the lawn, and that was it. Spike was begging for it: the reaction of a jealous stalker about to go to bat for what he considered to be his property. If not for the fact that he could get Finn kicked off the case, out of the precinct and out of Sunnydale, but then maybe he could then start to cash in on his new theory of Riley Finn the Murderer.

He wasn’t sure when it started to creep into his twisted mind that it was a possibility. Perhaps it had always kind of been there, kind of in the back of his mind, more as a musing of “I could so see that guy offing someone”, rather than based on actual fact.

But then small little facts started to build in his mind. He liked to think of his mind as a filing system that connected the dots at random. He filed away that a) Finn had such an obvious crush on Buffy b) she got hurt while he was with her c) Faith had disclosed he was up to no good with the thugs in the area, d) because of possible dealings with said thugs, it was entirely possible that was how Finn was able to pay for the incredibly expensive and highly inappropriate necklace e) Finn was nothing if not incredibly bothered by just the idea that Buffy might be involved with him and f) Finn knew what kind of sub Buffy liked. He wasn’t about to toss that factoid off with a shrug and mark it as him just ‘noticing the little things’. Then there was his overt kindness to Buffy – over fucking watering the lawn-- and his complete indifference to Spike to the point of just completely ignoring him.

Buffy thought he was a nutter. One day he’d offhandedly mentioned to Buffy his theory, just to give it wings and see how it’d fly. It hadn’t. It fell to the floor with a dead thud. She’d laughed at him. Waved her hand at him, dismissing the notion.

Spike was not so quick to dismiss it and, he found, that once the idea took form and became such a definite possibility, it wouldn’t let go. It took hold of him. The problem was he didn’t know how to prove it without raising suspicion. Finn was such a kiss ass and the ‘favorite’ down at the precinct that if he so much as brought up the idea as offhanded as he had to Buffy, he would be told that he was causing trouble because he was jealous. They would balk at him the way Buffy had. And the thing was, he had no concrete proof. All he had were hunches and little things that didn’t amount to much of anything. You couldn’t go pointing fingers, chanting “murderer, murderer, murderer” on nothing more than a few hunches. That sort of thing just didn’t fly.

So, things were quiet. Easy. Mundane, even. He and Buffy fell into a routine and normally something like that was cause for Spike to feel antsy and jumpy; anxious with the thought that this was so much like a relationship, but this time, he didn’t care. And why should he? It was Buffy he was with. It was Buffy he was helplessly in love with. She was the sun in the center of his universe and she was all he needed. She was the epitome of all that was good that he thought was lost in the world. Being close to her brought humanity back into him and made him believe in the humanity of others.

Yet, she had no clue, no real clue anyway, what she did for him.

Like at that moment for example, she was curled up on the couch, half naked and engrossed in a movie and he, pussy-whipped as he was and for once willingly, he was making her a ham sandwich because she claimed he “made them the best”. Angel was out with his girl, and the two had taken advantage of having the house to themselves to fornicate in every room and on every surface they could find. Buffy was quite the insatiable lover and oh boy, he loved it. Her hunger matched his and he was finding more and more that they matched in most everything.

She really was made for him.

Whistling as he spurted the mustard on her sandwich, something small and red caught his eye. On him. On his bare chest. It took but a second for it to register, it would have been sad if it hadn’t considering his line of work.

Infra red dot right on his bare chest meant one thing—

Hitting the floor just a scant second before the glass shattered in the kitchen window Spike watched the bullet that was meant for him go clear across the room and into the wall behind him. He rolled onto his back, heedless of the glass cutting his back.

The Murderer.

Buffy came bounding into the room, having to have felt the impact of the bullet go through the glass and the wall, and of him hitting the floor.

She screamed his name and was on her knees in an instant, kneeling beside him, trembling, her eyes wide with horror and fear. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

He looked up at her and rolled up to his knees. He was all right despite the glass on his back, and now she was hurt, the glass on her knees, cutting into them and causing her to bleed. That bastard is going down. She was unaware of the glass shards digging in her skin though, and the idea that she loved him that much filled him with a sense of pride that he’d never known. It also made him want to take down the bastard and save the day. For her, and for them.

“Look at me, luv. Listen carefully okay?”

She nodded, and he could see that shock was setting in. Her pupils were dilating.

“Go down to the garage, okay? Crawl there. Do not get up.Get in one of the cars and lie down on the floor. Do. Not. Move. You got me?”

She nodded slowly.

He shook her, her body putty in his hands, and not in the good way. “Buffy, you have to pay attention! Don’t leave me here, luv.”

She gulped and nodded, and he pushed her in the direction of the door. She stopped and turned. “Spike, I don’t want to--”

“Go!”

“—leave you.”

“Buffy, I’m going to be fine, luv. Just go, baby please?”

“Okay,” her bottom lip trembled and her eyes welled up in tears. “I love you.”

Meeting her eyes, he said it. The words. “I love you too.”

“Spike,” she sobbed.

“Go!”

She went, crying the whole way, leaving a trail of blood from her cut up knees.

Crawling to the hallway, Spike shot up and ran up to his room, the room he’d abandoned for hers, and threw on the bullet proof vest he took with him after her incident at the club (one never knew when something like this would occur in the midst of a case such as this), and grabbed his gun, cocking it.

Running down the stairs at top speed, Spike turned the corner and came face to face with a man in a ski mask, dressed all in black.

Meanwhile…

Gunn’s head whipped to Riley upon hearing a shot ring out. “You hear that?”

Riley’s eyes widened. “Do you think—?”

“Let’s check it out!” Gunn exclaimed, whipping his door open and bounding out with a mighty slam of the car door. Immediately, he reached for his gun and cocked it. Riley, meanwhile, called in for backup and bounded out of the car, cocking his own gun, his face a mask of worry.

“You all right?” Gunn asked him.

“Just worried. Don’t want anything to happen to them.”

“Let’s move,” Gunn said, his voice deep with authority, his body on autopilot. He started for the house, straining his ears for any sounds of yelling or shouts or anything that could tip them off to what could be happening inside. Despite how many times he’d had to do this, his stomach still tied in knots.

“Go to the back, I’ll go through the garage,” Riley told Gunn. “He had to have gone through the back somehow, we haven’t seen anything out here all night.”

“Bet that fucker knew we’ve been watching.”

“Doesn’t really surprise me. Does it surprise you?”

“Nothing surprises me much anymore, man.”

“Hopefully if we come at different ends, we can catch him off guard.”

“Element of surprise,” Gunn mused.

“Let’s hope,” Riley said gravely. “It’s time we got this fucker.”

*********

Buffy slid down the stairs on her bottom, her body shivering as if she were in thirty below weather. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe, could barely move. Her legs when she tried to stand gave way. All she could do was slide down the stairs on her bottom like a child, sobbing the whole way in the dark. Instinctively, she knew where to go and she was sure that if she had to, she could see quite clearly in the darkness.
If only she could hear. If only she could be blessed for a few moments of complete clarity and hear all that was happening, just so she could somehow know what was happening to Spike. So she could infer that he was safe and alive…his voice, what she wouldn’t give to hear his voice.

The tears were never ending as she made her way to the car, standing finally on wobbly legs. Grabbing onto the wall to steady herself, Buffy went to the car, Spike’s car, and climbed in the back, huddling down on the floor and waiting.

It was all she could do. Shutting her eyes, she started to pray for his safety to whatever power would listen.

********

“Well, well, well,” Spike drawled, gripping his gun. “We finally get to meet.”

The man said nothing.

“What’s that then? Cat got your tongue? If you’re gonna take a cheap shot at someone the least you could do is talk to him.”

Still, silence. It was eerie. Silent ones like that were often the sneakiest and most efficient in their ‘work’. It was distressing, but Spike kept himself keenly aware of every breath, every movement, every everything. It was the only thing that was going to save he and Buffy.

They stood face to face, neither moving, just staring at each other in the dim light. The masked man lifted his gun and Spike, with catlike reflexes, kicked out and the man stumbled, but did not relinquish hold on his gun. He did however, let out a low growl and when he righted himself, Spike punched him dead in the face. The masked man was like a Weeble, rocking back and then standing straight. Spike lunged, grabbing hold of his wrist, directing the gun away from him and they fell to the floor together.

The masked man was stronger, but Spike was stronger and he used all his strength to slam the masked man’s hand repeatedly on the floor, trying to disengage the gun.

“You mother fucker!” Spike shouted and with a burst of power, the masked man flung Spike off him. Spike went back, his head hitting the floor and he felt woozy for half a second. Bringing his gun up as the masked man climbed to his feet and started to raise his gun, Spike shot him.

The masked man wobbled, his eyes wide through the slits of the mask. He aimed and Spike rolled, the shot just grazing his shoulder. Another shot rang out and Spike’s head whipped up.

Gunn.

This time, the masked man fell forward, falling in a heap on the floor.

Spike jumped up, wincing at the graze in his shoulder. He aimed his gun at the masked man.

“They always come back for one final scare,” Gunn said, his gun aimed as well.

Nudging him with his foot, the masked man did not move. Spike looked up at Gunn. “I don’t think he will be,” Spike said, watching the blood gush out onto the hardwood floor and head for the cream flowered Oriental. Buffy was going to have a fit about that.

“You all right, man?” Gunn asked, nodding towards his shoulder.

Spike nodded and flipped the masked man over. “It’s time we found out who he is,” and he proceeded to unfurl the ski mask.

*********

Meanwhile….

Buffy was staring up at the window of Spike’s car, hoping that at any minute she’d see him. She kept chanting, “Please, please, please…” and then a figure moved past the window…no mask… but not Spike.

She sprang up from her spot to see whom it was, peering out of the backseat window. Whoever it was stopped and turned to her, causing her to rear back until she realized that it was Riley.

She undid the door, pushing it open and flung her arms around him. Relief flooding her, there was help; everything was going to be all right. It had to be all right now. She pulled back, clutching at Riley’s shirt in desperation.” Spike-- we have to get to him, Riley, he’s been hurt—“

“Sshh…listen, it’s all right. First, we need to get you to safety, Buffy.”

”No, Riley, Spike, he’s hurt. The killer is up there—I think—he shot at him and-”

“And you’re not going to do Spike any good by getting in the way. Gunn is up there and backup is on the way. Let’s get you to safety.”

“Riley—“

“Buffy, please. I need to get up there, but you have to be safe first. Come with me now, please.”

Buffy was torn, she didn’t want to go, but she also didn’t want to possibly put Spike in any more danger than he was already in.

Taking Riley’s hand, she followed him out of the garage and he started into a run, going straight next door with her desperately trying to catch up as she kept turning back, hoping to catch a glimpse of Spike.

“Well, then…” Spike muttered, “Isn’t that interesting.”

“Who the fuck is he?” Gunn asked, staring down at the now unmasked man.

Spike stared at him. Black shaggy hair, dead brown eyes, pointed straight nose, slightly plump cheeks. He was of slightly muscular build, his mass leaning more toward plumpness than muscle. Spike looked up at Gunn. “I have no clue.”

“Think Buffy would know?”

“She might.”

Red and blue lights ripped through the room, bouncing off the walls and letting the pair know that backup had arrived.

“I swear it’s like a movie. They always come after you need them,” Spike muttered. “Do me a favor would ya? Find out who he is. I’ll let the men in blue know we’re fine. I gotta get to Buffy.”

“Sure thing, man,” Gunn agreed, and began to tend to the body.

Spike opened the door and stepped. “We’re fine! He’s…down!”

A rush of blue swept forward like an army of ants, Sergeant Rayne being in the lead. His face was a mask of worry as he strolled right up. “You all right?” he asked Spike imploringly.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I was shot at, what do you expect?”

“That the only place you were hit?”

“Yeah, only place.”

The unexpected came next. Rayne hugged him, and even more unexpected – Spike let him. It was as quick as it came, as if both needed to remember who they were and what their place was – beyond Sergeant and Officer – and clearing his throat, Spike told him he had to get to Buffy.

“Where is she?”

“I sent her to the garage to hide in a car until it was over.”

“Smart move.”

Spike felt pride at that compliment, but did not acknowledge it verbally. “She’s gotta be out of her mind with worry.”

“Go then, go get her,” Rayne told him confidently. “We’ll need her to identify the body,” he said, all business once again.

Spike sprinted to the basement stairs and jogged down; wincing at the blood trails she’d left leading to his car. His poor girl was hurt and scared and God, why did bad things have to happen to good people? He didn’t care that she’d gotten blood in his car. Her safety was much more important to him than anything else, and now that it was all over, finally, he was going to shower his girl with love the likes of which she’d never known, or would ever know again.

Whipping the door open with exuberance, a smile settling on his face, now feeling relief that this was all over, Spike’s smile fell when he found her not there.

“Buffy?” he said, heedless to the fact that she couldn’t hear him. He bent down, peering even closer. Nope. Not there. Then over to the front. Nothing.

He stepped back, eyeing the trail of blood. It went from the stairs to his car and then some drops went toward the side door of the garage and stopped halfway there. The door was wide open, a slight breeze bringing in the sound of a cricket just outside, and a slight warm breeze scented with flowers.

Running to the door, Spike ran out, scanning the crowd. Riley…Riley and Gunn had to have split up so maybe Riley took her to the car they’d been living in for nearly a month.

His feet beat a path to the car, his prize in sight though he could see no figures illuminated. Maybe Riley had gone ahead and left her there in safety when he saw back up arrive. Flinging the door open, he stared to say “Buffy” and stopped short. She wasn’t there. He checked the front, scouring for any sign that she had been there. Nothing.

He felt it then. Something settling in his chest that felt quite like doom. It was mounting inside with greater intensity with each breath that he drew and each second that passed.

He took her. Finn took her somewhere. He had to think…think clearly, cover all bases before jumping to conclusions…he could have just gotten her out of there completely, just to keep her safe. That was all it could be. All it had to be.

Running back to the blazing lights, Spike searched for Buffy and for Finn, asked around and got nowhere. No one had seen him, no one had heard from him.

Barreling to the house, he found the body being lifted on a stretcher, the coroner making notes. Rayne was there, talking to Gunn and Spike pushed forward to Gunn.

“What happened to Finn? Where did he go when you came to the house?”

“What the hell is going on?” Angel was home and ran up next to Spike, wide-eyed as he watched the body being lifted. “Oh Jesus,” he swore, his voice clogged with emotion and flung the sheet off him, eliciting a disgruntled “Hey!” from the cops carrying the body out.

“I need to know if that’s my sister!” Angel screamed at them.

“Angel, it’s not her man,” Gunn told him calmly. “She’s all right.”

“Where is she? Where’s my sister?” Angel asked frantically.

“Where the fuck is Finn!?” Spike shouted at the top of his lungs, startling everyone quiet. His breath was coming out in short gasps, his body was tense and his fists were balled at his sides.

He was going out of his mind, and he was about ready to take someone out – anyone—if he didn’t start getting answers, and soon.

“Dude, he came in through the garage when we split—you haven’t seen him?” Gunn asked, pointing at Spike.

“Where’s Buffy?” Rayne asked.

“I can’t fucking find her!” Spike exclaimed. “She’s not downstairs, she’s not in the lookout car outside, she’s not outside with anyone and neither is he--”

“Spike, relax. We’ll call him and find out, all right?” Rayne said, taking out his walkie-talkie from his belt buckle.

Spike nodded, running his hand through his hair while he listened to Rayne try to reach Finn. Finn wasn’t answering.

“He took her,” Spike said hoarsely. “He took her.”

“What do you mean he took her?” Angel asked fearfully beside him.

“That theory I’ve been working on?” Spike said rhetorically, looking over at Angel.

Angel nodded gravely.

“Well, it just came to light. He might not be the killer, but he’s the mastermind behind it all.”

“Spike!” Rayne exclaimed. “You don’t know that--”

“Then where the fuck is Buffy?! Why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he answering? Where the bleeding hell did he take her?!”

“Serge, we got a call. Body on the other side of town,” an officer said, marching into the room.

Fear gripped Spike and he blanched, ready to heave.

“It appears it’s a hooker, found wearing nothing but a blond wig and a silver necklace with some kind of pendant on it.”

“Get on it,” Rayne ordered the officer.

Angel and Spike exchanged looks.

“He did it,” Angel whispered.

“Find out if the necklace was sapphire!” Spike barked at the officer, “And call me as soon as you find out, got me?”

The officer appeared confused by that direction, but nodded, whilst looking at Rayne for confirmation of his orders on that.

“What does it matter what kind of necklace it is?” Rayne asked.

“Because Finn gave Buffy a silver necklace with a sapphire pendant,” Spike whispered.

“So?”

“She gave it back to him.”

Dawning cleared on Rayne’s face and it was then that Spike ran to the bathroom and tossed his cookies, tears he hadn’t known he was shedding, streaming down his face the entire time.

Buffy felt as though a marching band was stomping its way through her head, and her head felt twenty sizes too big. It was going to explode, that was the only way to describe it.

She became aware of the feeling in her head, the hurting in her head, and then became slowly aware that she was moving. In a car moving, and the pillow under her head was not a pillow, but a thigh that was covered by blue jeans.

“Spike?” she murmured and tried to turn her head to look up at him. Her mind was too foggy to process anything at the moment and it was about to get foggier.

Officer Riley Finn placed the white handkerchief to Buffy Summer’s face and watched her eyes roll up in her head. He tried to squelch the anger he felt at hearing her say that bastard’s name. He brainwashed her that had to be it. He did something to make her feel something for him. Why else would someone as pure and innocent go for someone like Spike?
It was disgusting to him to even think of. She was tainted by his touch, but not completely lost. Given enough time, she’d realize that she was meant for him instead. That she was to be his mistress and he her Master. But first, they needed to get to safety and then in the morning they’d begin their new life. Together. Just the way it was intended for them.

********

“Screw it, I’m going with them,” Spike told Rayne, coming out of the bathroom. “I need to see the body and the necklace.”

“I’m coming with you,” Angel said firmly.

“Fine. Let’s roll.”

“We’ll meet you down there after this is cleared up, son,” Rayne called after him as Spike headed to the basement door.

Spike stopped abruptly, nearly causing Angel to knock into him. He turned slowly to Rayne, his expression devoid of emotion aside from a slight narrowing of his eyes. “I’m not your son, Rayne.”

The older man shook his head, his black hair glinting in the light of the room. “It slipped out, I’m sorry.”

Spike opened his mouth and then shut it. He shook his head, frustrated, and then opened it again. “I’ll see you there.”

Rayne’s dark eyes softened and he almost smiled, though he didn’t, almost as if he knew that would be too much. He nodded without a word passing through his lips.

Spike spun and started off.

“Spike?” Angel asked as they bounded down heavily on the basement stairs. Buffy’s blood having dried already, leaving maroon blotches, added to Spike’s list of why else he was going to strangle Finn when he got his hands on him. “Do you think he’ll hurt her?”

Spike said nothing, his own thoughts marred with visions of what Finn was planning for his Buffy. “I don’t know, Angel. I don’t know,” he said sadly, wishing he had someone to assure him that Finn wouldn’t hurt her the same way Angel was looking for reassurance. Trouble was, Spike had seen and been around enough to know that these were the sorts of things that could really go either way. Could anyone ever really get into the head of someone as obviously detached from reality as Finn?

“I mean, he’s been obsessed with her for sometime now,” Angel mused. “That much was obvious, right?”

“Right,” Spike agreed, climbing in his car, trying to keep his emotions in check. He could smell her in the car, her scent permeating in the confined space, tickling his nose and bringing tears to his eyes.

“So, why would he hurt her, right?” Angel said rhetorically, desperately, as he slid in beside Spike.

Spike felt for him. He was a brother, concerned for his sister and was trying his best to reason Buffy being all right and not hurt, despite the fact that Finn most obviously had something to do with the murder of Parker and Gwen, of almost Spike, and the kidnapping of his sister. He’d also possibly hired someone to do his dirty work for him – at least one could speculate it that way. Oh, yes. And the possible of murder of a hooker could be added to the list. I hope it’s not Faith, Spike thought despondently.

“He is probably like all those other obsessed freaks out there that only wish to keep her from those around her that could spoil her against him. Like you. Like me. Right? If he truly believes he’s in love with her, then he wouldn’t want to hurt her. He’d just want to take her away and it’d be easy enough to find them, right?”

Spike said nothing, wishing he could lie to the man and tell him that he was absolutely right, but the plain fact remained was that he just didn’t know. Finn had snowed them all. He’d portrayed himself one way when he was really the other way. It was hard to say anything for certain with someone like that. And God, he wished he could say for certain that Buffy was in no immediate danger, that she was all right, but just horribly scared.

Gunn’s thoughts on Finn having come to light that night came to Spike’s mind, haunting him: “Dude, I find him creepy, period. I’m telling you, that man has a dark side in there underneath that wholesome façade. And when he cracks, he’s really gonna crack.”

Finn had been cracking all along. So, what would happen now?

“Can you answer me?” Angel exclaimed frantically.

Spike threw him a sideways glance, grasping the steering wheel so tightly in his hands he wondered if he could pull the wheel from its spot out of sheer anger and worry. “It’ll be all right, Angel.”

“But you really don’t think so,” Angel murmured dejectedly.

“I just don’t know, that’s the problem. I just don’t know. We have to find some way to get one step ahead of him. That’s the whole key to this. Finding something that will keep us one step ahead.”

“Can you just…just lie to me? Tell me we’ll get to her before he can hurt her, please.

Spike’s eyes burned with impending tears. “I promise,” he said, trying his best to keep it together for Angel. And for Buffy. She needed his strength now more than ever, and she had said that she drew strength from him. He hoped that wherever she was and whatever she was going through, she could feel it.

********

Buffy’s eyes opened slowly, she felt disoriented and detached from her body, from everything. She was struggling through what felt like being underwater, swimming desperately to the surface of her muddiness.

“Mmmm…” she groaned, and felt a cool hand caress her face lovingly.

Her eyes snapped open then; a wave of pure fear rolling through her like a storm as memories came clicking into place like puzzle pieces.

Riley. He was standing above her. . . Where? She was in a room that appeared to be some kind of bedroom, she couldn’t discern and she was, oh God, she was tied to the bed. Her wrists were up against a headboard, and her feet together. The room was dingy and dirty. The wallpaper was peeling from the walls; the TV across the room appeared to have an inch of dust on it and a falling apart bureau, with broken handles and missing drawers, the edges of it scuffed with shards of wood jutting out sat next to it. On it were two black suitcases. She stared at them, focusing in on them.

Riley tapped her to make her look at him. She did so, reluctantly, frightfully.

“We’re going away, my darling. Taking a trip. We’re gonna get away from all this mess that’s here and start fresh.”

He was smiling at her so sweetly and innocently, Buffy felt her stomach turn. She shook her head, unable to find her voice to speak.

“Yes, darling, we are. You’ll see, it’ll really be the best thing for us. Especially for you. You need to get away from all the horridness that is Sunnydale. All of its memories and bad people that betrayed you and tried to sully you.”

“Sully me?”

“You know…Parker that lying, cheating bastard. He really was no good for you, carrying on as he did behind your back. He betrayed you,” Riley shook his head in disgust and sat down next to her on the thin brown comforter. “And then Gwen…that whore,” Riley spat. “She pretended to be your best friend and all the while she was messing around with that scum.” Riley wrinkled his nose in disgust. “And then, of course, Spike. I know he tricked you into being with him, Buffy. It’s okay. I understand. He brainwashed you and he used you. It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“I don’t…need…your…forgiveness,” Buffy struggled through her words, tears clogging her throat. “I love him.”

Riley’s expression darkened considerably. “No. You. Don’t. You think you do because he made you think that way, but really, you don’t. He’s filth, Buffy. You’re pureness. Innocence. An angel.”

Buffy turned her head. “Don’t call me that.” Spike calls me that.

Putting his hand on the side of her face, Riley made her look at him. “You are,” he told her imploringly. “And I got rid of all those people that hurt you.”

Buffy started to cry then, let the balled up emotion out in a gush. “You did it. You killed them all.”

“No, silly. I didn’t do it. Of course I didn’t actually do it. I would never think to my hands dirty that way. I hired someone to do it. Though…he messed up. He might be dead now, having not gone past Spike and Gunn. That’s okay though. I can let it go….For now anyway. He might still live, but I will find a way to live with that for the time-being.”

“Spike is…alive?”

“Maybe, don’t know. Probably. That …” Riley shook his head. “He makes me sick. And he had his hands all over you…”

“Riley, please…let me go.”

“No, not going to ever let you go now. You belong to me, don’t you see? You are mine. Can’t you see how I’ve protected you so well? Those robbers that tried to get to you, tried to steal from you--”

“Oh God,” Buffy moaned.

“I took care of them for you," he said proudly.

“Riley--”

“Shush now dear. It’s all right. We have a long road ahead of us, you know.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“We have to get out of here. There is one problem though.”

“Wh-what?”

“I lost your ticket. I need to get you another ticket.”

“T-to where?”

“Maine. We’re going to Maine. Live on the ocean, cleanse ourselves in the sea of all our past sins and start fresh. First though, I have to get you a ticket. No worries. We’ll get you one tomorrow at the airport.”

“Riley, please, don’t take me from my family.”

“I’m your family now, sweet. And when they accept me, you can see them again, I promise.”

Buffy sobbed. She sobbed for where she was, who she was with, Spike, Angel and all those that had to die because of her.

*********

It was Faith. Spike felt the bile rise up within him for the thousandth time that night. Her body, cut up and mutilated in the bottom of a dumpster, a blond wig on her the same shade as Buffy’s and the necklace Finn had given Buffy.

It was then that Angel tossed his cookies.

Using gloves provided by the coroner, Spike extracted the necklace and shoved it into a plastic bag held by another officer and the wig was shoved into another one, crusted with blood.

“This body has been here for a while,” the coroner told Spike.

“How long you think?”

“Hard to tell exactly, but if I had to wager a guess, I’d say a few days at least.”

“I want to know how long when you find out,” Spike told him and watched the body be lifted from the dumpster and onto a stretcher.

More life wasted.

Looking around the dumpster, Spike perused carefully, looking for anything, any clue. There wasn’t much in the dumpster to begin with, it being shoved far back in an alley not many lived near or ventured near.

An envelope in the corner under some papers caught his eye and he picked it up. Delta Airlines it read. Opening it up curiously, Spike nearly sobbed with relief. Buffy’s name was on it. Her ticket. It was her ticket to Maine. And just inside, tucked in, a small piece of paper. A receipt with Finn's signature. Oh God in heaven, Finn was taking her away and here was her ticket and his proof of purchase.

A ticket he’d have to replace, surely.

“Spike?” Rayne had arrived.

Jumping out of the dumpster, Spike handed over the airline ticket. “Need any more proof that he’s got her now?”

“What an idiot,” Gunn muttered watching Spike hand over the airline ticket to Rayne. “You’d think if you went so far to have someone else do your dirty work for you, you’d make sure to cover your tracks very well.”

“They always mess up at some point,” Spike told him. “It’s what we count on.”

“You gotta figure though, he knew he’d be missing a ticket that was imperative for their getaway.”

“I don’t care how he missed it, just that he did,” Spike shrugged. “Besides, let’s face it. He’s had small windows in which to carry out his dastardly deeds. He had to fumble somewhere.”

“You know what they say about the best laid plans…” Angel murmured.

“I feel so stupid,” Rayne cursed. “He always presented himself as such a pillar of the community, an asset to the precinct.”

“It’s always the ones you least expect,” Gunn told him.

“We need get the DNA on the hooker, prints on the necklace…” Rayne muttered. “But first, we need to set up a team at the airport, and we need to alert the officials and the team there to be on the lookout for him and for Buffy. No doubt he’ll use disguises and we have to be meticulous about that. There is no room for error here. We have a kidnapping and a life in danger. I’ll alert LAX and set up a team at the airport.”

“I’m going,” Spike volunteered.

“Me too,” Angel jumped in.

“So am I,” Gunn added.

“If he sees any of you--” Rayne began.

“I don’t give a shit,” Spike said forcefully. “He can take a goddamn shot at me if he wants. Buffy is with that rat bastard and I want her to see me there for her. I want her to know that I would never give up on her and fail her. I’m going to be there.”

“Spike, this is a serious matter. What if he takes your presence there out on her?”

“Then I’ll hang back; let the special operatives handle it, but I. Am. Going. To. Be. There.”

*********

Buffy wasn’t sure what time Riley forced her awake, but it was still dark when he had. She was surprised that she had even been able to sleep, but she figured the horror of what had happened, plus the drugs he’d given her to knock her out, and her worry over Spike caused her to just mentally collapse.

He shoved a black wig on her, he himself wearing a blond wig and matching fake moustache that was skewed to the right, and carried her to the car, still tied up. What kind of place was this that seeing a woman being tied up and carried to a car did not elicit a phone call to the cops? What kind of world was this now?

“Where were we?” Buffy asked.

“We were at a friend’s.”

“Oh?”

“I find that if you do special favors for people, such as making it so they can do what they please without getting caught, those same people will do special favors for you.”

“Such as letting you do things so you don’t get caught?”

Riley chuckled . “I wouldn’t get caught, Buffy,” he told her, pulling out of the parking lot to the apartment building they were in. “I’m a cop. No one would believe a thug over a cop.”

“Even if that cop was a thug himself?”

“I’ve worked very hard to present myself in a fashion that would go virtually undetected by the so-called competent men-in-blue.”

Spike knew though. He figured you out, Buffy thought proudly. She was sure though, that was something she could not share with him. Who knew what kind of response that would elicit.

“Was it you in the club?” she asked hoarsely.

“No. It was a friend. I was on the lookout. Made sure no one disrupted you two.” The way he said it, made it sound as if she were left alone to catch up with an old friend. Her stomach turned and she looked away from him. Her mind was whirling with all the things that had happened since Parker and Gwen had been murdered, how Riley was behind it all even if she never once laid eyes on him until after she’d turned herself in as a witness.

“How did you know me, Riley?” she asked, turning back to him.

“How?” he plastered on a goofy grin, his eyes softening to one of tenderness. “I used to come to Parker’s bar after a shift. Saw you there one night and knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That you were my girl. I love you, Buffy.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t have hurt me--”

“Hurt you?” he bellowed, “How have I hurt you? I’ve protected you. I tried to protect you. It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate my efforts. It’s not my fault you decided to listen to Spike when he turned you against me. He tried to turn you into a whore. Just like you were at that club. That disgusting club where you showed off all your assets to anyone that would look--”

“I was dancing! You told me to dance!”

“And you danced like a goddamn whore. Why else do you think I had to scare you? Scare you straight. Teach you a lesson that when you play with fire you will get burned.”

“You’re sick.”

“No, darling, I’m not sick. Everyone else is sick. No one appreciates purity and innocence--”

“I seduced Spike you fucking asshole! I wanted him!”

And that was when Riley snapped and backhanded her so hard; her head hit the car window. She swore she was going to start seeing cartoon birdies chirp and bounce before her eyes with that hit.

He slammed on the brakes, and yanked her so that she was facing him, his eyes boring into hers with intensity. “You are purity and light. You are not a whore. He tried to make you one like that Faith he cavorts with.”

Buffy’s eyes widened at the mention of Faith’s name.

“Now I confess…I used her. I used her when you wouldn’t come to me. When you went to him instead. Had to see what it was like to roll with filth like you did. I felt dirty after. Absolutely dirty. Had to get rid of her, that filthy whore, and I did. She was disgusting and I got my hands dirty—just that once. But you…” he smiled sweetly then, his hand caressing the side of her face. “You’re not like that. It’s just those around you that try to steal your light. I want to protect it, savor it, and cherish it. Once we go away and start our life together, you’ll see how happy I can make you. I won’t sully you, Buffy. I promise.” And he placed her gently next to him once more, buckling her in. “Just a few things you have to do when we get to the airport, okay? Because if you defy me…it won’t be pretty. I won’t be pushed, Buffy, not now. Everything depends on us getting out of here and that is the one place I will not allow you to back talk me, okay?”

The only place? she thought. Who are you kidding?

********

Feeling his gun press into her side was enough for Buffy to comply with all he demanded of her. Being in an airport full of people she felt it was her responsibility to the safety of innocent people to not fight him.

Light was dawning, but the airport was still incredibly busy. No rest for the weary. Quickly, Riley got them to the line where he patiently waited with a twitch in his eye for the chance to purchase her ticket to Maine. Her eyes darted all around, trying desperately to see if there was anyone she recognized, anyone that she could catch the eye of and implore to help her. But everyone was busy, everyone lost in their own rat race to pay any attention to her or anyone else for that matter.

She felt tears clog her throat. She felt lost, alone, desperate, and all her options were slipping from her fingers…Buffy had never felt so scared in all her life. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the way it was going to end. She couldn’t go to Maine to live with him; spend her life with this man that had blood on his hands and claimed to love her; this hypocrite that spoke to her of purity and filth while he murdered and hurt those around her. He didn’t do any of it for her; he did it for him!

Once the ticket was purchased, a time in which Buffy tried desperately to catch the eye of the attendant behind the desk – the pair started for the metal detector. She wondered how in the hell he was going to get past them with the gun in his pocket, but she never did get the time to figure it out.

“Get your hands over your head! Freeze!”

Buffy was startled when the man she’d been absently watching as they approached, lurched forward with a gun drawn and yelled that order. And then, watching, she spotted several lurch forward, guns drawn.

Her breath hitched and frantically, she looked for Spike, feeling the uncomfortable squeeze of Riley’s fingers dig into her flesh.

She looked up at him, hoping to see defeat on his features. Instead she saw determination.

“I have a gun pressed right into her side. You shoot me or try to take her from me, I will blow her away,” Riley told them calmly.

“Let the lady go,” one of the officers said. “Come on, Finn. We can take care of this all pleasant-like.”

“I’m going to Maine!” Riley screamed and Buffy felt his passion tear through her body with force, causing her to jump.

Looking around them,she saw him. Spike. He was staring at her intently, his eyes fixed on hers. She wanted to let him know she saw him, she wanted to yell to him, but knew if she did that would rouse the beast beside her that much more.

She had to get to him. She had to get away. She had to take a chance. And a chance she took. With a burst of strength she didn’t know she possessed, Buffy yanked herself free and shoved Riley from her running blindly toward Spike who screamed “No!”

Buffy didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare see the gun that was aimed at her---

All she felt next was her body being knocked to the floor. She fell hard with an “ooof” and felt the impact of a shot tremoring through her body.

She braced herself, thinking she was the one hit, but when no pain came, she realized she was fine and popped open her eyes. Spike. He was there, pushing her on her back and hovering above her.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

She gulped and nodded, perusing his body for injury. He looked fine. Alive. Perfect.

She clutched at him and he crushed her against him, running his hands all over her, checking for injury, and kissing her feverishly anywhere he could reach.

Over his shoulder, she saw Riley being dragged away, his hands cuffed, with Gunn behind him.

She let out a cry of relief.

It was finally over.

“Your cheek, it’s red,” Spike murmured, drawing her to her feet and tentatively touching her cheek where Riley had slapped her. His eyes turned indigo with rage. “He hurt you.”

“It’s nothing--”

“What I wouldn’t give for some time alone with him,” Spike muttered. “Baby, how are you knees?”

“What?” she blinked at him, confused.

“Your knees, baby. Remember you cut them last night?”

She looked down and lifted her pants leg. Riley had obviously dressed her. She wore wide leg black pants and an oversized plain white t-shirt. Holding up her pants legs, he saw that she had bandages on them. “I forgot about them,” she told him honestly. “Riley,” she wrinkled her nose, “He must have fixed them for me.”

Seeing Angel bounding up to them behind her, Spike pointed and she turned in enough time to have Angel catch her in a hug. He held her tight, swaying side to side. He pulled back, cupping Buffy’s face in his hands. “I was so worried about you. Are you all right?”

“I’m all right,” she assured him nodding. “Just really want to get out of here. I want a shower.”

“A shower?”

“I spent the night with Riley,” she said dryly.

Spike tensed, glided up to her and spun her to face him. “What?”

“What?”

“You spent the night with him? Did he…touch you?”

“No! Not like that, I didn’t mean it like that!” She shuddered at the very thought.

Spike let out a breath of relief and tugged her back into his side, burying his face in her hair.

“Who got shot?” she asked him.

He looked up at her, “What?”

“I felt a shot; it just clanged right through my body. Who got shot?”

“The wall.”

Buffy looked up and over at the white wall with a gaping hole in it, shards of it falling down in small clumps. “Oh.” She looked back at Spike.

“You ever pull a move like that again--” he told her sternly.

Angel tugged on her arm, making her look at him, cutting Spike off. “Thank you for that. You put my heart in my throat. I know now what it feels like. Don’t do that again.”

“Yeah, cause that’s what I plan to do again. Get kidnapped by a whack job. I don’t think so,” and she shook her head adamantly. “Were you hurt?” she asked Spike, concerned.

“Just a flesh wound,” he told her, grinning slightly.

“Where?”

“Shoulder,” he told her and peeled away his t-shirt a bit. He had gauze taped on and a little splotch of blood had seeped through.

“Oh, Spike…”she said mournfully and then burst into tears without warning. “I’m so sorry.”

Making her look at him, he gazed at her, “Why are you sorry?”

“I got you hurt…I got…everyone…hurt…. and…. killed,” she sobbed, having a hell of a time getting the sentence out.

Rayne strolled up to them then. “Hey, we need you down at the station,” he told Spike. “She’s gotta answer some questions.”

“Can it wait?” Spike snapped, holding Buffy protectively. The last thing he wanted was for her to have to deal with anymore of the damn case.

“No, it can’t. We need statements from the lot of you, let’s go,” Rayne said sternly. He paused, seeming to have noticed Buffy for the first time, crying in Spike’s arms. “She all right?” he asked, concerned.

“No, she’s not, she’s upset and rightfully so,” Spike told him, annoyed. “I want to get her home.”

“After she answers some questions,” Rayne told him. “I have a nut job in my custody, Spike. I need statements. It’s a necessary evil and I’m sorry, but it can’t wait. You know the drill.”

“Yeah, I know,” Spike grumbled. “We’ll be right there, okay?”

Rayne nodded and patted him on the back. “You did well,” and he sauntered off, barking orders as he went.

Leading her away, with Angel by them, the three walked out of the airport and into Spike’s car, Spike keeping her close by his side the entire time. He figured it was going to be quite some time before he was willing to let her out of his sight and out of arms reach.

*********

Needless to say, Buffy was more than just a little shell shocked over the next week. And rightfully so. She’d been through an ordeal. And with Riley having been caught, she had to answer questions, find out answers that were more than just a little disturbing to her, and live through the deaths of Parker and Gwen all over again. Now that she knew who did it and why…it made it all that much sadder for her and this time, she truly did mourn. Guilt drove it mainly, but to Buffy, they were just senseless deaths. All of them. She had a hard time mustering up some sympathy for the murderer Riley hired, but it was just all so…senseless. She wasn’t worth people having to die like that. It certainly gave her something to chomp on. Like how you never really did know someone and how so many turn to crime to get by. It was frightening when the ones you were supposed to trust were crooked themselves.

Spike was there by her through it all. He held her, talked with her, comforted her and most of all listened to her. It was really just all she wanted: to get the bad out so she could move past it. He even returned to his apartment with Buffy as his guest. She had been adamant about the fact that she did not want to be in her home for possibly forever. Her parents were looking into a way to arrange that for her, despite her protestations that she would figure it out.

“I think you should just live with me,” Spike told her one night. They were lying side by side in bed together, she in a tank top and shorts, and he just in boxers.

“What?”

“I mean, we’d have to get a bigger place and add some features I don’t currently have, but it would work.”

“Spike….”

“Yeah?”

“You…you want to live with me?”

“Yeah, I want to live with you. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t want it.”

“What happened to ‘I’m my own man’ and all that crap.”

“I am my own man. But I’m my own man with you,” he said, grinning proudly.

Buffy smiled broadly. “By George, I think he’s got it.”

“I love you, Buffy.”

“I love you, too.”

“And yeah, you were right…it took me a while to get that I didn’t have to become someone else, and that loving someone didn’t mean I had to sacrifice who I was.”

“Nope. It just means that you share who you are.”

“Right. And…when you love someone, truly love them and know its right…then it’s not so scary anymore.”

“I think when the right person comes along, you know.”

“Exactly. And you know with Dru…I guess on some level I knew. I just didn’t want to know.”

Buffy smiled. “I’m in touch with that emotion.”

Sidling up to her, Spike pulled Buffy closer to him so he could feel the warmth of her body against his. “I know I waited until a real crap time to tell you I loved you.”

“Spike--”

Pressing a finger to her mouth, he silenced her. “But I felt it the entire time, Buffy. I think I fell in love with you the minute I saw you. Something about you just drew me to you like a moth to a flame.”

“Maybe the fact that I was a damsel in distress?” she teased, smirking at him.

“Or just my heart and my soul knew. It recognized you somehow; saw you as the one I needed. You have all of me, you know. All of me.”

“Does that terrify you?” she asked on a whisper.

“It does, but…I trust you.”

She smiled. “If you’re absolutely sure about living together--”

Pouncing on her, Spike settled between her legs and flipped her hands over her head with his hands. “I’m more than sure.”

“Mmm…you are showing me a benefit right here.”

Kissing her fiercely, he whispered, “Allow me to show you some more benefits. In fact, I’ll show you some benefits all night long…”

Epilogue

It hadn’t been an easy case to stomach, for either Buffy or Spike. But when all was said and done, Riley was put behind bars and then, with complete certainty, Buffy could say, “It’s over. It’s well and truly over.”

The pair had made special plans once the case was done to get away. Since it had taken seemingly forever for it all to be tied up and put away, Spike and Buffy had moved in together – her parents insisting despite heavy protests from the couple that they could manage on their own – on getting them a nice apartment and making sure that Buffy had all that she needed. Spike had elbowed his way in on that deal and told them in no uncertain terms he was taking care of things for Buffy and he’d ask if he needed help, but they were to clearly butt out.

Her mother had grudgingly caved in. Buffy knew Joyce didn’t want to outright admit it, but Spike had saved her. He’d kept his promise to take care of her, and though she liked to lord it over Spike’s head now and then – when he was arguing with her and challenging her, namely – that Buffy had gotten kidnapped in his care. Joyce did know, however, that that was something out of his control. He had, after all, been squaring off with a gunman.

Buffy actually found it amusing the way her mother and Spike related. She’d make demands, he’d retaliate, her mother would argue, Spike would argue and slowly Joyce would come around. It was quite fascinating to watch, and Hank kept pestering Spike on how he did it. Spike would just smile and say “It’s all a part of my charm.” To which Buffy would retort, “You have charm?” Which of course led to Spike later showing her just how much charm he had. Oftentimes, she swore she did it just for that.

Angel had moved in with his girlfriend, Cordelia Chase, across town and made sure he did his brotherly bit in checking in on the pair now and then. He liked to hoard his “Big Brother” status over Spike every now and then and mostly, Spike just humored him, or stepped aside and let Angel do what he had to do. Buffy and Angel had a sibling bond that could not be penetrated and Spike respected that. He also knew that there would be times when Buffy wanted to talk to Angel about something first before approaching Spike about it. At times it bothered him, but he was learning that it was just something she had grown accustomed to and as long as she did come to him in the end, he supposed it didn’t matter too much.

While his relationship with Buffy’s parents thrived, so was Spike’s relationship with his mother and stepfather/uncle. Slowly, anyway. It wasn’t “one big happy family” yet, but they were trying. Some days were good, and other days not so much. It was a lot to wade through, but both had been there for him and Buffy during the trial and that had meant a lot to Spike. He figured perhaps it was time to work through their issues so that one day maybe they could be that “one big happy family”.

And now, the pair was on a beach in sunny Hawaii, basking in the sunlight. Well, she was anyway. Buffy watched the ocean with avid attention. Others found peace in hearing the waves crash, and since Buffy could not partake in that experience, she found her peace in watching it. She felt the stress of the past year dissolve and all that was left was a sense of peace and clarity. She looked over at Spike who she could tell was grumbling about the sand getting everywhere it wasn’t supposed to be and she grinned. He was just so cute.

“Spike.”

He looked up at her. “Yes, Princess?”

She smiled. “Will you go in the water with me?”

“Sure,” he drawled, “I could stand to wash the sand that’s seemed to have set in with my goodies.”

She laughed and stood from her spot on the blanket, and held out her hand.

Grinning, he took it and they walked hand in hand to the incredibly brilliant blue water.

Buffy cooed in delight when the water lapped at her skin. It was so warm and inviting and though she was used to it in California, there was something to be said for being in Hawaii and away from home in a thoroughly gorgeous atmosphere.

They waded out for a ways until Buffy could stand it no longer and dove in under water, swimming furiously.

When she came up, she found Spike looking worried.

“What?” she asked.

“You were under there a long time!” he exclaimed, coming toward her.

She shrugged, “I told you I was a good swimmer.”

“I know, kitten, I just…worry sometimes. You’re my girl, ya know?”

She smiled and pulled him into her arms when he was close enough to grab. “I know.”

Picking his girl up, Spike encouraged her to wrap her legs around his waist and he held her close to him as they bobbed in the waves.

“Besides,” he went on to explain, “I don’t want to have to be the one to tell your mother I was irresponsible and lost you at sea.”

Buffy giggled. “You know she likes you.”

“Yeah,” Spike smiled, “I know the old bird likes me. Frankly, I think she has a bit of a thing for me.”

Now, Buffy laughed and Spike couldn’t help but be swept into good humor, and laughed as well.

“Buffy.” He said, chucking her under the chin to make her look at him. It hit him suddenly as to what a perfect time it was to ask her the thing he’d had to go to Angel and her father for – purposely avoiding Joyce – and ask them permission, as was traditional to do.

“Yeah?”

Looking down at her, he was swept away by her. “I love you so much,” he gushed. One thing he had gotten so much better at was expressing himself when it came to how he felt, and what he wanted and needed from her. He could still be a sullen boy that refused to give it up, but more often than not, he found he was able to tell her what was in his heart and without holding back or playing games.

“I love you too,” she cooed at him.

“You are…the world to me, and God, I …I never thought I’d find someone like you. I thought I was going to be alone for the rest of my days.”

“That’s not really what you wanted though, was it?”

“No, I didn’t. I just convinced myself I would be perfectly fine that way.”

“I know how you feel though, Spike. I felt that way my whole life.”
“Until me?” he asked hopefully, still needing reassurance every now and then.

She smiled, “Until you.”

“You so casually swept in my life and you just…you just grabbed my heart and didn’t let go.”

“Sorry?”

“No, luv,” he said gently, “Don’t apologize for that. I thank you for that.”

“You did the same, you know. Right from the start.”

Kissing her forehead, he whispered. “Marry me.”

She reared back slightly, stunned. “What?”

“Marry me. I can’t imagine my life without you, Buffy. I don’t want to. I love the life we have together; I love who you are, what you do, and selfishly, what you do for me. I want that forever. I was going to ask at dinner, make it a whole big thing, but here, right now, in the water, it feels right, don’t you think?”

Smiling dazedly, Buffy kissed him hard. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I will marry you.”

Whooping with joy, Spike rained kisses all over her face. “I love you so much, baby.”

”I love you too,” she giggled, trying to meet some of his kisses.

“How much do you love me?” he asked wriggling his brows and leering at her.

She eyed him suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”

“Sex in the water. Whaddya say?”

“Spike, we can’t!” Though the idea of it had her instantly wet.

Tugging her bottoms and his bottoms down with minimal protest from her, Spike slid a finger inside her. “Oh, I think we can. Especially since my girl is already so wet for me.”

“Spike,” she gasped.

“Lift up…and now sink…yeah, that’s it. Ride me, Buffy.”

Some might have known what they were up to, after all it was a public beach and nothing but the water around them was shielding them no matter how far out they were currently, but Spike didn’t care, all he could see, and feel, was his now fiancé, riding him as best she could. And with the knowledge now that she was his and his forever, Spike was closer to release than ever before.

“Spike…I’m gonna…” she murmured. And apparently so was she.

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded, making her look at him.

“I love you.”

“Tell me it’s only me.”

“Only you.”

Cupping her face in his hands, he declared. “I love you with everything I am. You were made for me.”

And she let go, with Spike following behind.

Holding onto each other as they came down from their highs, Buffy looked up at him lazily. “You’re just full of surprises.”

He grinned. “And I’m sure we’ll have many more to come.”

"You know what our next challenge is?"

"What?"

"Getting our swimsuits back. I think we lost them."

The End