HAPPY BIRTHDAY vamptastica!!!

Let me tell you why I wish everyone had the pleasure of knowing vamptastica. She’s so talented, and so generous with it. Her art is gorgeous. She’s a big snuggly sweetheart, and at the same time fiercely protective of the people lucky enough to be her friends. She’s funny and pervy, and she’s so great at storming my brain when I get all hung up with a fic. I think I owe the completion of a good chunk of my porn to her. It’s been so great getting to know you over the last year, honey. I’m glad we met.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She wasn’t supposed to like him.

Good girls didn’t like boys like him. He was crass and crude, and not at all what she was supposed to be looking for in a husband.

Not that she was supposed to be looking for a husband yet. Her mother said she was too young for that, and that serious dating could wait until she went to university.

The point was, she wasn’t supposed to notice boys like him. Boys who wore leather and slicked their hair back and smoked cigarettes in the parking lot after school, leering at girls like her. Girls they couldn’t have.

She wasn’t supposed to notice the way his long fingers cradled his homemade cigarettes, the hollow of his cheeks when he took a long deep inhale, or the knowing Cheshire grin he gave when he caught her staring, smoke spiraling out from his nostrils like the Devil himself.

She wasn’t supposed to notice the bunching muscles in his arms when he kicked his boots up on the desks at school, or his strange grace when showboating for his greaser friends, or how his waist was oddly slim when not cloaked with his leather coat, despite the impression he left on a girl that he was a bigger man. She wasn’t supposed to notice the cocky tilt of his head, or the stupid accent that had half the girls in school giggling over him in the hallways, because they were too dumb to realize that a guy like him would use them—eat them alive and leave them heartbroken. She knew he had done it before, and so would they, if they paid any attention.

She definitely wasn’t supposed to notice that the tight cut of his jeans showed anyone who cared to look that he had a really nice rear end.

And she wasn’t even supposed to notice that his eyes followed her everywhere. Not begging, not asking her anything, just…on her, all the time. Smug as anything. As if he knew something she was keeping from him, which was stupid. She could hardly even concentrate on her schoolwork anymore, because he was in all of her classes—and that was another thing she didn’t understand. Buffy was one of the few girls in their school taking advanced classes, and a loser like him didn’t belong. But somehow he was there, and somehow she could always feel him boring a hole into the side of her head with his stupid pretty blue eyes.

Lashes like that belonged on a girl. He oughtta be ashamed of them. Jerk.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time it happened, it was an accident.

Well, it was an accident on her part. Spike knew what he was doing, but Buffy hadn’t expected to find herself being kissed by someone like him behind the bleachers during a game, when anyone might see.

She would die if anyone saw.

It was just after halftime and everyone had returned to their seats, so the concession area was deserted when she broke away from the squad to use the ladies’ room.

When she stepped back out, he was waiting for her…lurking by the entrance to the women’s like he belonged there.

She tried to slip past him, not even wanting to acknowledge what a stalker he was getting to be, but he ground out his cigarette and grabbed her by the wrist. She probably should have screamed when he took her by the waist and pulled her around the side of the building, pushed her against the wall and stepped so close that he was pressed indecently against her, chest to knees.

Should have, but…didn’t.

And when she didn’t, he smiled—sharp and sharky—and he didn’t even have the courtesy to ask, or say anything at all, before he leaned down and pressed his mouth full-on to hers.

She probably should have slapped him. She’d never let Angel or Riley do more than peck her cheek when they took her to dances or the drive-in or to Harry’s Diner for a bite to eat.

And this was….lewd. His hand was in her hair, mussing it, and the way his mouth moved against hers had to be a sin, even before his tongue licked along her lips and pushed its way between them. She felt herself flush hot that he had the nerve…but then his hips were grinding into hers and his hands—surprisingly soft hands—were stroking the little strip of skin bared between her sweater and the skirt of her cheerleading uniform, and her knees felt like jelly.

When he pulled away, she was a little too stunned to string a thought together, and he looked like he knew it—eyes fixed on her lips as he licked his own, like a lazy, proud cat.

By the time she finally pulled herself together enough to go ape, it was too late.

He laughed at her—laughed!—low and husky and mocking, and then he turned and walked away.

She slumped against the wall while she caught her breath…just for a minute…then she went back into the bathroom to fix her hair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The second time it happened, it was a mistake.

She should have just left well enough alone. It’s not as though, once confronted about what he’d done, she expected the jerk to be sorry, or—Heaven forbid—apologize, but the incident had haunted her all week, and she had to do something.

She marched up to him after school, when the parking lot had emptied and only losers and folks with activities were lingering, and his friends all watched her with raised brows and catcalls.

She ignored them. “We have to talk.”

He didn’t have any right to laugh at her that way, a low mirthful chuckle that caught on with the other boys after the sly look he gave her. He dismissed them with a glance and they all made their excuses and wandered off. Spike dropped his still-smoking cigarette to the pavement and opened the car door for her, holding it open in such a way that she’d have to crawl beneath his propped arm to get in.

As if she was getting in the car with him, anyway.

After a pointed look from her, he smirked. “Might as well let me give you a ride home, sweetheart. Friends have all left, yeah? You plannin’ on walking?”

Red-cheeked, she realized he was right.

“None of your friends around to know, Summers. Promise to be a gentleman, alright? You can tell me all about what a bad, rude man I am.”

He was trying to rattle her cage, and anyway, Buffy was pretty sure he didn’t even know what the word ‘gentleman’ meant. But she hadn’t left herself much choice, so she slid into onto the white leather upholstery and sat primly as he shut the door behind her.

This was a nice car. Real cherry, and brand new, too. She wondered how the likes of him got the bread to afford something like this.

He slid in behind the wheel, fired up the big rumbling engine, and laid rubber out of the parking lot so wildly that she had to hang on to keep from skidding across the bench and into his lap. That thought made her blush and brought back to mind what she was supposed to be doing here.

“You had some nerve…doing what you did the other night.”

He shot her an amused look, hands off the wheel lighting a cigarette, and she swore they were about to crash. “Might want to remind me exactly what it was that I did, luv. I’m a rather nervy fellow.”

Buffy scoffed, insulted at the implication that he might not remember kissing her. “I think you know,” she hissed.

He mumbled around his cigarette. “Oh. You mean that little kiss we had?”

He sounded so…so innocent that it made her want to do things no lady ought to do. Like sock him in the nose. “No, I mean the grody…slobbery kiss that you forced on me.”

Blue eyes were assessing and sardonic. “Funny, you didn’t sound like I was forcin’ anything. Made those little whimpery noises in the back of your throat.”

Her jaw dropped open. “I did not!”

He exhaled, laughing at her shock. “Close your mouth, Summers. Ladies don’t leave their mouths open ‘less they want ‘em filled.”

Buffy’s face flamed bright red. She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but…she could guess the worst, from things she’d heard. From the things he’d already done to her. “You…raunchy….!” She couldn’t even finish.

“I’m sorry, pigeon, did I interrupt your righteous little tirade with a spot of truth? Do carry on.”

“…It’s not the truth! I would never want you to do that! You’re slimy and common and completely unattractive, and I never would have let you touch me if you hadn’t…cornered me that way. You’re nobody. You’re a creepy nobody. And everybody knows you’re beneath me. Except you.”

There was a moment of dead air when she stopped ranting. He startled theatrically and looked at her. “Oh, sorry, were you still yappin’? I drifted off after the third lie.”

“I did not—!”

She was forced to brace herself as the car careened towards the curb and he slammed on the brake.

And then he attacked her or something. Buffy squeaked when he hooked his hand around the base of her neck and pull her across the seat towards him.

She recognized a split second of anger around his eyes just before he closed in on her mouth. So she was surprised when the kiss was…soft. A little politer than their first. Still not something she should have allowed him to do—still not something he should have taken the liberty of, but…. Her belly heated strangely as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth gently, and his hands cupped her face and neck carefully. His mouth teased over her lips for half an eternity, and he never once pressed against them with his tongue—something that still made her blush just to think about.

Buffy had honestly forgotten her own name by the time he pulled away and murmured, “We’re here.”

Her eyes blinked open. Disoriented, she looked around and saw her own mailbox, sitting in front of her own yard with the house where her own mother was waiting and could come out at any moment.

She would have yelled at him for kissing her again, here, but she was too busy scrambling out of his car before anyone saw.

Just before the heavy car door swung shut, she heard a deep voice laugh out “You’re welcome, pet.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The third time was blackmail.

Buffy didn’t know why she kept expecting him to have manners, but he cornered her two days later just outside the cafeteria, blocking her path to the powder room and hemming her in against the wall when she tried to turn and walk away.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Nothing’s changed.”

He looked annoyed. “Exactly. You always avoided me before, as well.”

She sighed, looking over his shoulder as if she were bored and not feeling a little hot just from the way he loomed over her. “What do you want?”

When he gave her the Devil’s own smile, eyes skittering down and back, Buffy blushed at the clear direction of his thoughts. “Think you know.”

Before she could really flip, he shifted backwards a bit and his voice lightened. “But I’ll settle for a date.”

Somehow that was worse. She recoiled as if he’d spit in her face. “A date!?”

He looked amused in the face of her horror. Was he immune to being insulted? “Yeah, luv, a date. Would think your kind would approve of that kind of thing.”

“Not with someone like you.”

His jaw flexed, and she felt inexplicably guilty. “Friday. Or I tell all your friends that you let me cop a feel.”

Her eyes rounded. “You wouldn’t! I didn’t!”

He shrugged blithely. “All a matter of perspective, innit.” There was a chorus of girlish laughter from the direction of the ladies’. “Sounds like someone’s coming, Miss Buffy. Seem to remember seein’ Cordelia go in there earlier….”

Yikes. If Cordy saw her standing here with him, she’d be ruined. “Fine! Fine. You’re horrible.”

“Yeah, luv, but I’m the best kind of horrible there is.”

She was stunned when he pressed a swift but wet kiss to her mouth. He winked, and split.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She had to be crazy. She had to be outta her mind. Why else would she be sitting in her living room all dressed up, waiting for him?

She was just glad her parents were out to a dinner party, or her daddy would skin Spike alive as soon as he got a look at him.

And of course he was twenty minutes late, leaving her to stew. She was in for a real fake-out. He was the rudest pig of a boy she’d ever met. When he finally rang the bell and she saw him leaning against the doorframe, dressed like the stupid greaser he was, she was ready to give him a piece of her mind…

Then he handed her flowers.

She reeled in confusion.

Suddenly remembering her manners, even if his were spotty, she stepped back from the door. “Um, I…come in. I’ll just…thanks. Let me go put these in water.”

Clearly Spike didn’t understand that he was supposed to stay in the foyer, because he followed her into the kitchen. Stood so close that it was only natural he made her a little nervous, and then she turned and realized his eyes were fixed on her—

She crossed her arms quickly over her chest. “Spike!”

Sleepy blue eyes ticked up to hers. “Mmmm?”

“What are you doing?”

He blinked innocently and gestured toward her cardigan. “You’re wearing cherries. Just wonderin’ if you were tryin’ to tell me something.”

She couldn’t conceal her ick-face, and he didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed of himself. “Let’s get out of here before I change my mind.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

All the little steps were so innocent.

Buffy didn’t object to being taken to the drive-in. All the kids from school would be here, but they could hide out in the far corner of the lot, and at least it was better than him taking her to the diner where everyone could see…and talk.

What Buffy should object to were the moves he was making on her. A little at a time, but she was no dummy.

He scooted a little closer.

He put his arm around her.

He sniffed her hair and smoothed a hand over her chastely-covered shoulder.

It wasn’t as if a boy had never put the moves on her before at the drive-in. But for some reason she didn’t rebuff him the way she had the other guys. At each new move, she thought she might, but in the end, she didn’t. Instead, she just got warmer and jumpier and more self-conscious with each passing moment. She wondered why she had agreed to come here. Just being here with him was bad for her reputation.

It wasn’t until the sniffing turned to nuzzling that her fast-beating heart really started to pound. And when his breath brushed hot against her ear, Buffy’s eyelids slid down until that feeling—his lips on her earlobe and the dry warm palm cupping her other cheek—became her whole world.

Suddenly she was very aware of places that no lady was supposed to think about.

It was a long time—a long time of his mouth brushing every inch of her throat, a long time of his thumb stroking her cheekbone, a long time of Buffy’s breath getting shorter and faster—before he turned her face towards his and took her mouth. She placed the blame squarely on his shoulders that by the time he kissed her, she wound her arms around his neck to pull him closer, and opened her mouth eagerly for the slip of his tongue.

Maybe he did have some manners after all, because he didn’t laugh at her. She’d have died if he had laughed at her. Or maybe she would have killed him instead.

But he didn’t. He just exhaled eagerly when she parted her lips, and slowly eased her into his lap. Before she could object to his hands on her hips, they were gone again.

They made out for a long time. She didn’t even see the rest of the movie, and she really didn’t care. She’d never felt this way before. Half the school could have been standing at the windows in shock, and she wouldn’t have seen them, she was so focused on his tongue and his taste and the way he smelled.

Thankfully, she still took notice of his hand sliding up her calf. His fingers brushed the back of her knee and her body gave a strange pulse of excitement—and then she smacked his hand sharply until he pulled it out from under her skirt.

He didn’t even pause in kissing her. Just chuckled into her mouth as though he’d expected as much.

Later, when she was at home trying to make sense of the way she’d behaved, she decided that this time, the fourth time, must have been some kind of crazy witch-doctor hoodoo. He’d cast a spell on her that made her do things she ordinarily wouldn’t.

This same logic had to be the explanation for the fifth time, as well. And the sixth, and the seventh, and a dozen or two times after that.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Their dates were kept secret.

Her insistence, of course, because he’d probably tell the whole school if he could, but he mostly went along with it, which surprised her. At school she pretended like she didn’t especially know him, and for weeks, most of their nights together were spent in his car, away from people who might see them together. Her friends were suspicious of something, but she’d put them off and she was pretty sure they believed her.

Spike had convinced her that the back seat was a much better idea—the seat was wider, and there was no steering wheel. No horn to be kicked on accident when she got a little too cranked.

Spike’s chest loomed over hers as they kissed, pressed there against her warmly, but his hips were to the side. She didn’t like it when he pressed into her there. It made her nervous, and when she’d told him that, he had sighed a little, but he hadn’t argued.

Not long after that—almost as a concession—she had let him start touching her breasts. He was cupping one of them now as his tongue thrust against hers, hand slipped underneath the halter top of her sundress from the front, bare palm cradling the weight while his fingers…rolled her nipple gently. Two nights ago was the first time she had let him touch her this way—bare—and it was still new and a little scary.

But she may have worn this dress with him in mind.

By the time his mouth slipped away from hers to suck and lick and brush over her throat, she was so overheated she thought she’d burst out of her skin.

He was breathing heavily, and his hips rubbed downwards…something he did more and more the more serious they got. She was glad it was the seat he was grinding against and not her. The thought of that was far too much.

“Buffy…so bloody gorgeous….”

She shivered when his teeth scraped lightly over her skin, but he didn’t pause too long in any one place. The one time he had accidentally—or not so accidentally—left a dark, telling mark on her neck, she had refused to see him for a week. She had been so embarrassed. No one knew she had a boyfriend…or…something, so showing up with a hickey just made it look like she was fast. They had argued about it, and Spike told her there was an easy way to fix that little problem, and when Buffy burst into tears at the thought, they had dropped it. Spike was more careful after that.

He was good to her, in his own coarse, demanding, suggestive way.

When he reached around to gently untie the knot at the nape of her neck, her heart jumped. “Spike?”

“Shh, you’re alright, luv.” He kissed her cheek, and strangely, she was, even though he was peeling away her clothing above the waist and she wanted to cover herself up.

He nuzzled the hollow under her chin before he leaned down and lifted her breast to his mouth. She…hadn’t really thought about this before. His lips were closed around her nipple, gentle wet touches, and it was like…water. So soft around the sensitive skin. He moaned around her flesh and her breath hitched and she tried so hard…tried so hard to keep still even though her body wanted to move, tried so hard to keep quiet even though sounds tickled at her throat.

Spike’s head came up, and he pressed a few chaste kisses to familiar territory. “It’s alright, pet. You can show me. No one but us, yeah? No one needs to know what a hot little ticket my girl is.”

His girl. Her stomach squiggled.

This time when he put his mouth over her nipple—the other—she let some of the noises come through, even though she was embarrassed. She squirmed a little, restless and over-hot. She couldn’t help it, and he had given her permission, even though she still thought it wasn’t right.

He liked her response. She could tell.

The more she responded, the more insistent his mouth became. He sucked harder, fingers playing over the other, increasingly eager. He was almost rough, but it didn’t hurt. Just the opposite. It felt really good, so good that she was really going to have to hide this pair of panties from her mother, and by the time his teeth closed down carefully on her, tongue flickering, the familiar dull throbbing was not so dull. It was turning into something….

“Spike.” Suddenly scared, she pushed at his shoulders, and when that didn’t really work, she pulled him away by the hair. “Spike, stop. I don’t like this any more.”

He collapsed, forehead to her breastbone as he heaved air. She couldn’t see his face, but he sounded a touch impatient when he said slowly: “Kitten…it seemed like you liked it a lot.”

“Well. Now I want to stop.”

She stiffened when he released another smaller sigh—nodded without lifting his head from where it was buried. She still felt…jazzed, and a little jumpy about him being there. She wanted to put her top back where it belonged.

He was muttering quietly under his breath, and most of it was incoherent to her. But she chilled when she heard a particularly irate ‘’s what I get.’

“What?” There was a lump in her throat, and her vision was a little blurred with tears when he looked up, face shifting into lines of sorry.

He lay the fabric of her dress back over her chest without tying it. He crawled upward till his face was too close to hers, guiding hers back around when she turned away to wipe at her eyes. “I’m a bad man, luv. Please don’t cry.”

She was stricken with the familiar, alien urge to pummel him. “Why do you have to be such a jerk?”

Those pretty girl-lashes swept down and for a moment she was self-conscious that he was looking at her chest. Then suddenly he was looking her straight in the eye again. He sounded strangely annoyed when he answered her, even though the words were soft in his mouth. “’M in love with you.”

She stopped breathing, until it burned her chest and she had to inhale. She didn’t say a word, because she couldn’t. Was it better that she let a man who loved her do these things, or worse because on top of every sordid thing they did, he loved her?

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He sounded resigned, and a little sad, and the only thing she did know was that gave her an aching pang of guilt. She was pretty sure it was guilt. Worse when he pressed his lips to hers in a habit of affection. “C’mon, Miss Buffy. We’d best get you home.”

He used to only call her that when he thought she was being difficult, as an insult. Now, like everything else, it sounded softer.

She felt bad the whole quiet ride home.

She avoided him altogether for four days. During school, this wasn’t much of a change…though now she avoided the teasing secret looks he liked to give her across a room, just to make her blush. But she stopped making excuses to leave the house to meet him in the evenings. She saw his car idling at the curb down the block every night, but she just watched from the window until he gunned the engine and drove away.

She felt all mixed up inside. She wasn’t sleeping, she couldn’t eat properly, and she felt the constant, inexplicable need to burst into tears, especially on the fourth night when there was no black DeSoto waiting for her down the street. She blamed it on her monthlies.

But she worried all night about whether he was going to give up on her and go with someone else. When she saw him at school, he looked strange. Cold and distant and angry with everyone.

She spent the weekend at home, so moody that she overheard her father cursing the fact that he was blessed with two daughters.

All she wanted at this point was for Spike to forgive her. But she was too proud to ask.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy Summers was in Hell. That, or a terrible terrible nightmare, that was too far out to be explained. She looked back and forth between her mother and Spike, in a daze.

When she had imagined Spike coming back to her, it hadn’t looked anything like this.

Literally.

“—but I didn’t really start falling for her till I heard her thoughts on Yeats. You have a brilliant daughter, Mrs. Summers.”

“Oh, William, that’s so sweet. Isn’t that just lovely, Buffy?”

Buffy stared blankly at her mother. Then her eyes slid to Spike—William—who was blinking angelically back at her. He didn’t look like himself at all. He was wearing a pressed button-down Oxford, his hair was loose in this curly mop that was really too dweeby to be named, and there wasn’t even a hint of cigarette smoke clinging to his skin or clothing. He smelled like moth balls. Probably because he’d mugged some loser’s granny for the outfit.

…Spike paid attention to what she said in class? She thought he just stared at her chest while she talked. Boys never took her seriously.

This was such a complete turn-around from the dangerous, sullen edginess lately that she had vertigo.

Buffy realized they were both staring at her and blurted, “He’s…something.”

Her mother’s look was full of reproach for her bad manners. “Buffy! You’ll have to forgive her, William. She doesn’t mean anything by that.”

Yes, she did. He was such a little sneak. He had her mother scolding her while he…was he blushing? He was! He ducked his head and blushed, and then stuttered out, “That’s ok, Mrs. Summers. Wouldn’t expect someone like Buffy to take to me, anyway.”

“Nonsense, William, you’re a lovely boy. Buffy would love to go on a date with you. Wouldn’t you, Buffy Anne?”

Uh-oh, whole name. As her mother glared, ‘William’ watched her guilelessly, pitiful hope shining from big blue eyes.

Oh, he was good. Either really good, or Spike had an evil dope of a twin that she’d somehow never met. She tamped down her temper at the fact that he had cornered her so effectively. Now she had to see him, or she’d be in trouble with her parents.

Never mind that she’d wanted him to talk to her again. This was completely underhanded.

“Of course I would.”

The flash of smug mischief was gone by the time her mother looked back at Spike. He smiled sweetly at her mother as she patted his arm. “There, see? And I think you’re just what Buffy needs. I’m afraid her studies have been slipping recently.”

His eyes rounded with concern. “Have they?”

Buffy crossed her arms, fuming.

“I told her father she’s been spending time with those friends of hers too much, of late. I know it’s unconventional, but we expect Buffy to excel academically. We want her to go to college after she graduates.”

“She should! I think it’s marvelous that you encourage her that way.”

Marvelous?!?!

“Well, I’ll feel so much better knowing that she’s spending weeknights studying with you, instead of hanging around the diner with her friends, rotting her brain with milkshakes and sighing over James Dean.”

Oh god. Why did her mom have to bring that up? Spike gave her a sly little look out of the corner of his eye. “She likes his films?”

“She’s certainly been watching a lot of them lately. Buffy, why don’t you walk William to the door? I really should start dinner.”

They all stood. “It was lovely meeting you, Mrs. Summers.”

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m sure I’ll see you later.” Buffy’s mother gave her a meaningful look.

Fuming, Buffy practically dragged Spike out into the front hall.

“What the heck was that all—” He had her pinned against the door with a mouth full of tongue so quickly that she didn’t even have time to finish her outrage. At first she tried to push him away…partly because he was a spiteful, underhanded jerk, and partly because her mother was only two rooms away.

But she could hear her mother banging pots in the kitchen, and then it didn’t matter, because…Spike and kissing and…wow. Still wow.

Then he started getting a little too grabby, and she couldn’t let him think she was that easy for him after that stunt he just pulled, so she shoved him till he stumbled back a step.

His eyes were lit with mischief. “I like it when you play rough, kitten.” When he teased his tongue through the gap of a naughty grin, all of her lingering anger melted away until it was pooled down in her feet.

So she reared back and kicked him in the shins.

It felt really good to finally do that.

His eyes flared comically and then he laughed so hard she had to cover his mouth so her mother wouldn’t hear. When he pulled her hand away, he was still grinning. “Turned you into a feisty little bint, haven’t I?”

She ignored that in favor of the issue at hand. “William?”

When he grinned and dipped his head to mouth at her neck, she tried to push him away. She didn’t push very hard. “James Dean?” he countered, deep voice tickling her ear.

Her knees buckled a little when he sucked on her earlobe. She couldn’t believe he was doing this in her parents’ house. Her mother wouldn’t like him quite so much if she knew what sweet little William wanted to do.

But it felt good, and she let herself sigh a little. When her hands met nothing but stiff cotton, she really wished he was wearing his leather jacket. He had ruined her for guys who wore leather.

And he knew it, the jerk.

She tried to stay on track. “How could you go through my mother like that? That was horrible of you.”

“You were being too bloody stubborn.” Oh, because he was a total prince. He pulled away from her neck to look at her, and he looked pitiful enough that she wondered if he was pulling the wool over her eyes even as her gut twisted. “I missed you.”

The sentence trailed off at the end as a prompt. He looked so sure that she felt the same that she tried to look disinterested. That only seemed to amuse him.

“Did you miss me?” he asked leadingly.

“Did pigs fly?”

He sighed dreamily. “Such a lady, my girl is.”

She snorted. If she wasn’t, it was all his fault. “I guess that makes two of us, Willamina. What was that all about?”

He winked. “I have hidden depths. Secrets like you wouldn’t believe.”

She rolled her eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Since her mother was all-aboard the William train, Buffy didn’t have to sneak around and they saw one another even more than before. After school, anyway. She could only imagine how people would treat her if they knew.

Him, too. The things they’d say behind his back. Or to his face, and she didn’t want him getting into creamed by her exes…or being the one doing the creaming….

Luckily, he didn’t push it. They just went on as before.

They also didn’t talk about what Spike had said to her, that night in the backseat. It was like it had never happened.

Except it had, and she couldn’t forget about it.

She thought about it every time he touched her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Spike….” She squirmed and started to push at his shoulders, but he kissed her.

“Relax, luv. So beautiful, aren’t you? My girl.”

‘Relax.’ She didn’t understand how she could. She was so hot, she was actually sweating. Ladies might not sweat, but she didn’t think this could really be called a glisten.

She clung to him. How was she supposed to relax when everything inside was tightening. He was touching her there, through her panties. Every time he did this, it was as if he were waiting for something. She didn’t understand what, but she let him touch her, longer each time, and it felt good.

Except now it felt like something was wrong inside, getting uncomfortable. He didn’t stop this time when she tried to warn him off. Maybe because she didn’t push him away—she pulled him closer. He just watched her face, breath ragged, while his fingers concentrated on that one place that felt better than all the others—the one that made her jump when he brushed it lightly, and was now making her ache as he rubbed little circles.

Her hips twisted with discomfort, and he brushed a kiss over her cheek as she murmured his name

Spike shifted, eyes flickering over her face, and then two of his fingers were pushing against the cotton, until they eased inside.

Buffy’s breath caught, and she went as stiff and still as a board. She didn’t want to go all the way. Not now, not till…. She didn’t want to. She shouldn’t want to. He really shouldn’t put anything—

In the midst of her panic, suddenly his hand was gone, and he was cupping her face and neck, brushing his mouth against hers. “Shhh. Just wanna make you feel good, nothin’ else.” When his knuckles brushed very lightly against her panties, she jolted, so sensitive. She was a little embarrassed when her hips strained up towards the teasing touch, but she felt him smile against her ear. “Not gonna hurt you.” His voice dropped, like he was telling a secret. “I love you.”

They hadn’t talked about that at all. Not since the first time. A different kind of warmth pooled in her belly and she relaxed a little. He kissed the soft spot he liked, under her ear. He felt so solid.

“Wanna show you something, pigeon. Can I?” Her throat stuck. She was scared. “If it’s ok, run your hand through my hair.”

She paused, uncertain, but then she did. Threaded her fingers in at the hairline and combed back, and immediately he turned his head and caught her palm in a kiss.

When he touched her, her breath hitched. His fingers slid under her panties, pushed them aside. They’d never done this before. It seemed so much bigger than everything else. He kissed her.

He traced lightly at first, but she was already so wound up that she jolted as soon as he brushed against that one spot. It was better when he returned there with two fingers, pressing and rubbing, and the feeling sparked sharp now with no cloth in the way. Her first instinct was to clamp together, but he kissed her cheek and gently pushed against one thigh until she was spread wide—wider than before. She blushed but stayed that way, actually moaning and pressing against his hand when he touched her again…deciding she liked the new openness.

She couldn’t help the movement of her hips as he kept touching her. He liked it. Encouraged her with near-moaning whispers, and now his own hips were moving against the seat, and it made her shudder, thinking about his hips moving against hers—

His fingers slipped inside.

Way inside. A few knuckles in, and he was still touching that good place with his thumb, and there was an excited spasm of her muscles there around his fingers, which felt very odd, and immediately Spike murmured “Oh, fuck!” and Buffy realized he had actually never said that word before. It was funny, to realize he had restrained himself in one thing after all, and she had just made him forget it.

He kissed her again, hard, but then everything began to happen very fast. He began to work his hand against her more rapidly and she felt that strange building pressure. She wasn’t sure that she liked it, but it made her move against his hand and pull away from the kiss gasping. And that just made him touch her more desperately.

“That’s it. Come on, baby.”

They were both sweating an awful lot, moving in this frenzied way, and she didn’t know what he wanted her to do, but her hand fisted hard in his hair, nervous. It only made him breathe harder. She did too, fast and shallow, disoriented by the building feeling, and that was when it started. The faster she panted, the more her body seemed to shimmer, building and building, but even that didn’t prepare her for the sudden deafness, blindness as her body spasmed hard, repeatedly. She was dimly aware that she was making noise, and he was murmuring something excitedly against her ear, but it was all she could do to breathe and feel, fingers pulling at his hair and his t-shirt. And then the bottom dropped out and she was back, shuddering at the last stroke of his hand before he pulled away.

When he tried to pull back to look at her, she clung tenaciously until his arms wrapped around her back and he hugged her hard—he had never hugged her before, or she had never let him—and that’s when she realized she was crying.

Not ugly crying, just…tears. And definite sniffles. And she couldn’t stop for a while, even though she really wanted to. He was laughing, but she didn’t want to hit him for it, and it seemed like he wasn’t really doing it on purpose either.

Eventually she let him pull away a little, still breathing hard as his weight eased off. “What was that?”

He wore this knowing, contented little smile as he stroked her cheek. “You okay, kitten?”

“…Yeah.” She felt so good…relaxed and calm, and there was this strange feeling of well-being everywhere that almost seemed to radiate out from where he had touched her.

Spike shifted so he was lying on his side next to her, head propped on his elbow, and when he winced and bent slightly at the hip, she saw the bulge in his jeans that neither of them ever mentioned. He smoothed her skirt back down and kissed her nose. “Good.”

She knew what that thing was and what it meant…mostly. She knew boys were supposed to want you to touch it, but Spike had never asked her to do that. He used to grind it against her while they kissed, back in the beginning, but it made her nervous and he had stopped.

Two fingers lifted her chin from where she was staring, and then his hand shifted to brush back her hair. It must be a total rat’s nest. She had to look like a wreck, but he just smiled at her smugly, proud of himself, and for some stupid reason, she couldn’t stop smiling back.

His hand dropped to rest on her waist.

“I want you to meet my mum.”

She choked at the sudden change of subject. “…Now?”

He snorted…and then started to laugh. “Not bloody likely. Try tomorrow, you silly cow.”

She drew in a breath, but he beat her to it. “No, not a cow. Something small, and cute. A tiny little piglet. Or,” he corrected quickly, seeing her eyes flare. “A lamb. Yeah, that’s it. Wooly little lamb. You’ve got a cute tail.”

“Baaaa.”

He snorted out a laugh. “I take it back, definitely a cow.”

She swatted at him until he kissed her, both of them laughing like silly children.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meeting Spike’s mother was…surreal.

The house was nothing like she expected…although if she was pressed to explain what she had expected, she wouldn’t know what to say. Her image of him certainly hadn’t involved a house much bigger than her own family’s, in the same neighborhood where Cordelia lived…the neighborhood that belonged to the whole country-club set. Complete with country club.

That explained where he got the money for the car.

His home was full of lace and soft colors, and he looked out of place sitting on the sofa in black leather. If it hadn’t been for the clear affection between himself and his mother, Buffy would have thought the place belonged to a complete stranger and Spike was putting her on.

But he wasn’t. He held her hand but kept a respectable distance between them as they had tea with his mother, and it became clear that Spike…her growly, sarcastic, foul-mouthed boyfriend was…a momma’s boy.

When his mother told Buffy that he hadn’t stopped talking about her for months, Spike avoided her eyes and blushed, no joke. She was beginning to suspect that ‘William’ hadn’t been a complete act.

He was so civilized with his mother that Buffy was almost surprised when he wanted to go parking afterwards.

She should have known. He always wanted to go parking. He was shameless that way.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Your mom is so smart. I can’t believe she has her doctorate.”

Spike nuzzled from her throat up to her ear, and Buffy shuddered as his teeth nipped her, breath tickling. “Do me a favor, pet, and let’s not talk about my mum, yeah? Sorta puts me off the mood.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Atomic warfare couldn’t put you off the mood.”

He copped a feel mischievously. “Our children will glow in the dark, but they will know what true love looks like with their own three eyes.”

Buffy laughed but her heart constricted at the casual declaration. Even if he was mostly kidding.

He leaned in to kiss her and she turned her head. “Spike.”

He sighed out his exasperation through his nose and kissed her neck. “Mmm?”

“When we first met, I never expected you to respect me.”

“Mmm-hhmm.”

“At all.”

She felt him smile against her throat. “Yeah, I know.”

“That doesn’t bother you? That I thought….”

“That I was the slime on the bottom of your stylish little shoe?”

She pushed at him uncomfortably, ashamed of herself, and irritated that he was still touching her when he should be mad.

“It’s not funny.”

“It is, pigeon, because I practically asked you to think of me that way.”

“I just don’t understand…. I’ve seen how you are with your mom. And mine. Why do you act—”

When he grinned, it made her all warm. “Like a naughty, naughty boy? Got you all hot, didn’it?”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “It did not!”

Spike scoffed, laughing at her. “Now you’re just lying shamelessly.”

Okay. So…she was. But she probably shouldn’t admit that hating him made her want him. It was…unseemly. “I didn’t really like you when you were like that.”

“No. But the lure doesn’t have to be tasty, luv, just shiny.”

“So now I’m a fish? I think that’s worse than being a cow.”

“Depends, really. When are you going to let me stuff and mount you?”

She didn’t blush quite as much as she would have when they first met. She laughed instead, and hit him on the shoulder. He just enjoyed seeing how fast he could make her flip out.

And she wasn’t going to…let him do that anytime soon, but when she tugged on his belt loop until he settle his hips against hers, his eyes warmed and it made her chest catch for a reason other than nervousness. He kissed her, tongue slipping through to stroke her teeth and tongue and the roof of her mouth, and when his hips flexed down into hers, she could feel the bulge pressing between her legs.

She felt restless. Her hips squirmed under his until he ran his hands down to coax her legs to wrap around his waist.

He moaned and murmured nice things in her ear, and brushed her face with soft little kisses.

The shift in position made her more…open, and with the movement of his hips, he was rubbing against all the best places. She gasped in a short burst of air and tightened her legs around him, and her arms, liking his solidness, and he didn’t tease her with knowing looks and evading touches. He just rocked against her, expression heavy and lax. She’d never seen him like this before.

She rocked her hips up against his and he moaned again, biting his lip. She liked it. She did it again.

He kissed her hungry, greedy, and they rocked faster and the car rocked with them, and Buffy felt that building buzz. His mouth grew more and more absent against hers until he dropped his forehead into the crook of her shoulder, like his head was very heavy. He was panting, and fondling her breast, and every stroke of his hips was dragging something hard against her in a way that made her more and more desperate.

“Spike….”

His face turned and his teeth sank into her flesh just before he brushed a wet, open mouth over the mark. For some reason, that made her flush hotter. She whimpered and swiveled her hips up hard and fast as he ground against her. Her breath caught and her arms locked as her body throbbed with pleasure.

She stayed there, riding that high wave until Spike moaned and clutched her tighter, shuddering as his hips stopped working and his weight relaxed against her.

His face stayed nestled against her throat, pressing a little kiss there, and Buffy let her fingers tangle into the curls that had worked loose at the base of his neck. She felt…. He shifted, snugging her closer, and Buffy felt a wave of warm affection, chased closely by something strange. Like…knowledge. Knowing how he felt when he came apart in her arms. Knowing she’d done that to him.

Knowing she’d never made him feel that way before, even though he always tried to make her feel good.

It made her feel joyful and sad and guilty and grateful and…older, all at once.

Spike stirred, rousing himself to shift his weight away, but she held it where it was, and he kissed her cheek. And then her mouth…a soft, soft kiss. She expected him to make a dumb, teasing joke, but he just kept touching her like she was made of glass and kissing her face while she tried not to cry. Her skin felt very thin.

“Let’s go out this weekend, luv.”

“Of course.” She thought it was pretty much unspoken that they would. She didn’t understand why he was asking. If possible, his expression grew more serious.

“No, I mean out. On a real date. Burger and shake at Harry’s, that kind of thing.”

Buffy’s chest felt all tight. She wasn’t ready for this…thing to be scrutinized by everyone. All of a sudden it felt too new. She’d been lying to herself, but she was real gone for Spike. It made her feel all vulnerable and wobbly, and she wasn’t ready to share it.

But when his eyes dulled and he pulled away, it only made her feel worse. “I know you never expected me to respect you, pet. Wish I could say I hadn’t expected the same from your end. Or that it bothered me just as little.”

The air in the car was dead silent and still. Buffy smoothed her rumpled circle skirt over her lap self-consciously, throat tight. But when he popped the back door open to climb back behind the wheel, she snapped out of it.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yeah, okay. If you wanna be all…boring, we can make that scene. Thought you were supposed to be a bad boy.”

As recoveries went, it was pretty transparent, but when Spike relaxed, face lighting with a grin, she knew she’d made the right decision. No matter what everyone said. “Reckon it’ll piss off the jocks to see me with their girl.” He frowned. “Not that you dated all of them…did you?”

“Spike.” She barely bothered to roll her eyes. He pulled her into his lap for a kiss.

“It’s gonna be alright. World’s not gonna crumble, yeah?”

He smelled nice. Under the cigarettes. She should have known he was more than your average greaser, to smell like that. For the first time, she wondered what his friends were going to think of her.

She felt like the whole world really was about to end.

“Yeah. It’ll be just fine.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

And it was. The first month was awful. She lost most of her friends, the evacuation being led by none other than Cordelia Chase, of course. People said horrible things that made her cry and made Spike defensive.

Those first two weeks, he had three fist-fights with Angel and Riley alone. At least half of it was his fault. He didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, but that was something she already knew.

But eventually, things got better. Her friends from her advanced classes stuck by her, like Willow and Fred. Some of Spike’s friends turned out to be just as bad as Cordy, but Buffy really liked Xander, and Oz. And after three weeks of posturing and arguing and laying into one another, Angel and Spike actually ended up friends.

Really good friends. Which was too disturbing to be named.

And now that everything was out in the open, they were really happy. Best of all, there were no more secrets.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Happy, happy last week of school to everyone. Have I mentioned how much I’m looking forward to the summertime?”

The cafeteria was buzzing with excited chatter. Angel smirked. “You might have brought it up.”

“Well, my mysteriously silent friend, I repeat myself so it’s clear: very much looking forward to three months of hanging.”

“We got the message loud and clear, Xan.”

“Good, Buff. Wouldn’t want any miscommunication on this subject.”

Willow jumped in. “What good? Not good! We still have finals and stuff. Really hard, cumulative finals.”

“Not if you’re a slacker like me. It’s your own fault for being smart, really.”

“I don’t see why I need to take the sodding final for European History anyway. It’s you Yanks who need that education. I should get a free pass.”

“Yeah, especially since…royal family. It stands to reason you already know that stuff.”

Their table fell dead silent. Everybody alternated between staring at a suddenly flustered and self-conscious Willow, or Spike, who looked stubbornly oblivious, and like he was considering going out for a smoke.

Buffy was the first to snap out of it. When she hit him, he flinched away with an ‘ow,’ but he wasn’t getting any sympathy. “Royal family??”

“Technically.”

“How have you never mentioned this?”

His face was innocently blank. “Didn’t seem important.”

“He’s probably ashamed of all the in-breeding,” Angel supplied. Spike made a hand gesture that he’d assured them was very rude in England.

“Not important? This is important.”

“You’re right, it is. Horribly important. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you were a money-grubber and I didn’t want you to be blinded by ambitions for the throne.”

“Buffy, Queen of England. I could dig it.” Oz smiled at her.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I’m fairly sure someone would have to poison half of England to even approach my name on the list. It’s really not a big deal, luv. ‘S just too weird to talk about, here. You lot have strange ideas.”

Buffy had never known Spike to hold back from bragging about anything, but she was slightly appeased by the explanation. “Still, it’s sort of romantic, when you think about it.”

“That’s right,” Xander confirmed. “When you think about it, he’s your smoking, swearing, drinking Prince Charming.”