Chapter XIV. Identity Crisis
“Willow, you won’t believe what I—” Buffy said as she entered her dorm room in a rush, stopping mid-sentence when she realized that her friend was not alone. The two girls sitting on the bed jumped to their feet immediately, making her suspicious as to what had been taking place between them before she interrupted, which was reinforced by the blushes that covered their faces and necks. What’s been going on here? It couldn’t be what she was thinking about, could it? “Hmm, hi, err, am I interrupting?” She looked from one blushing girl to the other.
“N-no, Buffy, you’re not interrupting anything, why would you say that?” She forced a laugh. “Hey, have you met Tara?”
“No, can’t say I have. Hi, Tara, I’m Buffy, Willow’s roommate.”
“H-hello, it’s n-nice to meet you. Willow talks a lot a-about you.”
“Really? She’s talked about you, too,” she lied. The girl seemed nice but very, very shy so she figured it wouldn’t hurt to try to put her at ease. And sure enough, the white lie garnered her a sweet and thankful smile as Tara glanced shyly toward Willow. Hmm, yes, suspicious, very much so.
“Tara has been helping me research the ‘thy will be done’ spell and its possible consequences, Buffy.”
Buffy’s eyes widened comically at that. “B-but…”
“D-don’t worry, I-I… your secret is safe with me, I p-promise,” Tara hurried to clarify.
“Will, err, could I talk to you for a second… you know, outside?”
“Sure. We’ll be right back, Tara, okay?” The blond girl nodded, following the other two girls with her eyes as they walked out of the room.
“You think that’s wise, Willow?” Buffy asked as soon as they stepped out of the room.
Willow didn’t even pretend she didn’t know what Buffy was asking her about. “Buffy, it’s alright, I promise, she won’t tell anyone.”
“Alright, alright, I trust you, but who is she? You’ve never talked about her before and now she’s all with the friendliness and knowing about me and—”
“I…she’s a friend from the Wicca group, you remember that I told you I joined the one on Campus?” Buffy nodded and Willow continued, “To be honest, she’s probably the only one aside from me in the whole group that has an idea of what being a witch really is, so we started hanging together to try spells and such and became fast friends. She’s truly a very powerful witch; you should see some of the things she’s taught me.”
Buffy smiled at Willow’s enthusiastic description of Tara. Seemed she hadn’t been that far off her mark. Not that she’d leave it like that, it was her duty as her best friend to tease her regarding possible love interests, so she erased the smile from her face and arched a brow inquisitively, asking, “Are you sure you’re just friends? ‘Coz it looked like a bit more than that going on when I came into the room. And hey, were you ever going to introduce her to me?”
Willow looked into her friend’s eyes, surprised by her questions but most of all, that she’d actually noticed that they were acting more than ‘friendly-like’ toward the other when she came in. “Well, I’m not sure yet, but there might be something there,” she answered honestly, a bright red blush tingeing her cheeks once more. “And of course I was gonna introduce her to you, it’s just that… you know, it’s so new and I wanted to keep it to myself for a while, feel like I had something that was only…”
“Yours, I get that.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I truly do. Remember the desk?” They both giggled. “’Kay, you’ll tell me when there is something else between you two, won’t you? After all, I’m your best friend; I hope I still am at least,” she said, half-teasingly.
“Oh Buffy, of course you are and I promise you’ll be the first one to know when there’s something to know. Anyway, Tara is really good at researching, so we might find something very soon on that spell.” She turned to enter the room again, but Buffy’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“She seems nice, Wills.”
Willow beamed at her before going through the door. “She is.”
“Ev-everything okay?” Tara asked, wringing her hands nervously.
“Everything is perfect, Tara,” Buffy answered with a bright smile. “Will tells me you’ve been helping her research?”
“Y-yes,” she replied unsurely.
“Good, since we’ll need all the help we can get.” She breathed in deeply before continuing, handing her friend the frame she’d been holding close to her chest. “I found this yesterday... last night after patrol, inside the secret panel. Take a look at it and tell me I’m crazy for thinking what I’m thinking?”
“But what are you—“
“Just look at it, Willow and tell me… please?”
More than a little curious why her friend was acting so weird, Willow took the picture from Buffy’s hands then gasped. It couldn’t be. Could it? Nah, it had to be some trick of light. Although she imagined there was no trick of light that could fake those cheekbones, was there? Oh Goddess, was this her fault, too?
“So what’s the verdict? Am I crazy or not?”
“Depends, are you sure William sent this to you? I mean, don’t you think Spike could be playing a joke on you?”
“No, I don’t think so. William sent me a letter along with the picture and I’m sure it’s him. I… he’s… I know he’s Spike. It goes way beyond the resemblance. It's like I feel it in my heart, especially after the things Spike and I...” she cut herself short, not wanting to divulge all the kisses they'd shared as of late.
“The things Spike and you… What?!” Willow paled. There’s no way Buffy was implying what she thought, could she?
Oops. “Err, you know… I told you about that, I’m sure I did, that William had turned into Spike in my dream? Remember?” Hopefully that covered her tracks.
“Yes, I remember,” Willow replied unconvinced.
“What did you think I meant? You can’t possibly believe there’s something going on between Spike and me, can you?” Even if there is and it’s much more than you want to admit, the annoying little voice added. Buffy wrung her hands in her lap, trying to appear affronted at the thought, but only managed to make herself appear guilty.
“Buffy, what aren't you telling me? Because I think I know you well enough to know when you’re hiding something. H-has something happened with Spike other than the dream or the spell-induced engagement?” She almost dreaded what she was sure would be the answer but Buffy had been awfully supportive with the whole Tara issue, even going as far as doing her best to make her girlfriend feel more at ease in her presence. She turned to look at Tara and found her smiling softly, reassuringly at Buffy and decided to do the same. After all even if her suspicions turned out to be true, at least Spike was a whole lot more likeable than Angel ever was.
“Yes,” Buffy replied meekly.
“Now we’re getting somewhere. So, what if William and Spike turned out to be the same person, would you mind it very much?”
"I-I..." Would she mind? If they are... it means he found a way. He found a way. And was it so bad? No, of course it isn’t. Because... He found a way for us to be together, to overcome time and distance so the love he’d promised in his letters would turn into a beautiful reality. So Spike was no Prince Charming, that’s for sure, but he had a lot of the qualities she admired in a man, he made her feel… like she never had before. Not with Angel and certainly not with Parker. She knew he had a softer side that he kept hidden, that William side that she longed to discover now that she knew it was there. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Willow sighed, not surprised by Buffy’s answer even if she would have preferred it to be different. Now it was her turn to be the supportive friend, Buffy didn’t need her recrimination. Not now and especially if William didn't turn out to be Spike. She would be devastated if that were the case, but she would be there for her and somehow would see her friend through it. And even if William was truly dead, if he hadn't found a way for them to be together, and if, as she suspected, Spike was someone with whom her friend COULD find happiness with then she would help her find that happiness with Spike. Life was nothing without someone to share it with whether it was a witch, a human or… yes… even a vampire… It didn’t matter, all that mattered was to find a love that would be enough to go through everything together, the good, the bad and everything in between. And Buffy deserved that, whether that everlasting love could be found in William, Spike, or both if they were the same person.
“Okay, then how about we go to the computer lab, do some research now then maybe Tara and I can visit Giles later? Hit the books? Don’t worry, we won’t tell him anything about this, we’ll just say we’re researching some spell for the Wicca group or whatever.” She giggled at her friend’s surprised yet thankful expression and winked, taking Tara’s hand in hers and looking pointedly at her friend, who just nodded happily.
~*~*~*~*~*~
After extracting the promise from both witches that they were going to continue researching both the web and Giles’ books until they found everything they could about William Pratt, Buffy left, deciding to go home and change her clothes before picking Spike up at his crypt for an early patrol. Of course, changing her clothes into something slightly more feminine than her usual slaying attire had nothing to do with the fact that she was going to see him. No, it had nothing to do with Spike at all. Not even if her mother’s all-knowing smile when she saw her and told her where she was off to said that she thought differently. If anything that damned smile almost made her go back upstairs and change back into her jeans instead of wearing the short black leather skirt with slits on both sides, red halter top and knee high boots she’d chosen.
She would’ve hated to change though. She looked pretty damned good if she said so herself, not that she was trying to impress anyone let alone a certain vampire, but her outfit was stylish yet still comfortable enough to fight in.
“I should start my own line of clothing, call it Slayer Wear. Make it dust-proof and trendy," she thought out loud as she walked through the streets of Sunnydale towards Restfield Cemetery. “Who says you can’t look good and fight the undead at the same time? It would sure save me the hassle of going home to change after a hard night of slaying before heading to the Bronze.”
Her mind drifted back to her afternoon of researching with Willow and Tara, they hadn’t found any info on William… yet. Still, she was convinced that whatever they eventually found would confirm her suspicions that William and Spike were one and the same—and why on earth wasn’t she more wigged out by that? Much to the contrary, the possibility that they could be the same person left her breathless and almost giddy with anticipation. Because it meant he had found a way, just as he promised he would, for them to be together. Sure, it wasn’t the most conventional way, but as long as it worked... However, there was something bothering her. Why was it that Spike hadn’t remembered the letters they’d exchanged or the desk? She knew he knew about the letters she’d been exchanging with William, he’d told her so. Hell! He’d found her writing to William and even read part of her letter. So why hadn’t he said anything about it then? Duh, Buffy! How could you forget about that? she thought, wishing there was a wall nearby to bang her head on it. The answer was obvious, she had written to him as Elizabeth, not Buffy. There was no way he could know they were one and the same now, could he? No, of course not.
Especially since she hadn’t been too forthcoming with the information. Not that she had any reason to be all with the forthcoming or anything anyway. How was she even supposed to guess that Spike and William could be the same guy? It wasn’t like Spike was anything like her sweet William, although he wasn’t exactly your run-of-the-mill-all-with-the-evil vampire, either. No, he was different, always had been from the first moment their paths crossed. He was capable of loving with his whole being and didn’t need a soul for that, for one, unlike certain vampires that shall remain nameless to protect the not-so-innocent. From what she’d seen of his interaction with Drusilla, insane vamp-ho that she was, he was loyal and devoted. She had to give him credit for that, even if it almost made her lose all the contents of her stomach to think of them together. And of course, that he has a body that would put to shame that of a Greek god doesn’t hurt either, the annoying little voice inside her head added… not that she could really deny the truth of that statement or wanted to anymore for that matter.
She stopped with her musings when she found herself standing at the door to his crypt, a little dazed as to how it was she’d arrived without noticing and more than a little confused as to how to act now that she came face to face with Spike.
How does one act when faced with your former pain-in-the-ass, mortal-enemy, potential-boyfriend… err, vamp-of-your-dreams? Especially considering the ‘near-sex’ they’d almost engaged in last night before that stupid fledgling ruined… ahem, did her the huge favor of interrupting them before it actually happened. Because if he hadn’t, she shivered, she wasn’t sure she would have had the strength or the will to stop them from having sex… in a cemetery of all places. Now, though, today, at this minute? Well... if Spike and William were one and the same, it was an experience she could look forward to with no regrets.
She entered the crypt, hoping he wouldn’t be inside while at the same time excited to see him, if that made any sense at all. Not that any of what had been happening to her lately made any sense either.
Huh! He wasn’t on the top level and when she called his name, there was no answer or noise that could account for the vampire’s whereabouts. Could he be sleeping? Her mind instantly supplied an image of a naked Spike sprawled on his bed and she had to suppress a moan at her body’s reaction to said image. Berating herself for those naughty thoughts but… unable to stop herself from finding out if it could be the case, she went down the ladder to the lower level as slowly and stealthily as she could so as to not to alert him were it true. Disappointment bloomed in her chest when she clearly saw he wasn’t there either. Where could he be? Not that it mattered… much, but it wasn’t like he had a huge social life so where could he be if he wasn’t in his crypt? They hadn’t made plans for tonight but… she felt the warmth of the blush that crept upon her face when she remembered the reason why they hadn’t. Still, it was nearing their usual time to patrol so where the hell could he be?
Deciding to wait until he showed up—not like she had anything better to do than to wait and hey, hadn’t Giles, her mother and Spike almost made her swear over the bible that she wouldn’t patrol by herself?—she sat on his bed. Oooh, comfy, she thought, running a hand over the black silk sheets before surveying the room. She’d never been down here before, only upstairs, and while she’d known that her mother had given him some furniture, she never expected a crypt could look so… homey.
The bookcase she saw to the left of the bed seemed awfully familiar. Wasn’t it the same one he had upstairs the last time she was here? The one where he’d hidden his notebook? The same notebook he’d very suspiciously put away as if not wanting her to read what was inside? What was he hiding in it? Could it hold at least some of the answers she’d been hoping to get tonight?
“Should I?” she asked herself, already half-way to the bookcase. She shrugged, of course she should. After all it was his own fault. If he’d been here when she arrived as he was supposed to be, she wouldn’t be downstairs or even remember the damned thing. Decision made, she stood on her tip-toes until she reached the notebook, which thankfully was still on the same shelf he’d originally placed it on.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she stared at it. This was it, she was sure. She could feel it in her blood, in her soul. When she opened this, she would have her answers. Suddenly, she was scared. Scared of what she’d find inside. Scared of what she might not find. Those things she wanted to find. What she held in her hands could confirm or deny her suspicions and now… when faced with it, she wasn’t sure which option she preferred.
She sat on the floor, her knees trembling so hard that she felt if she didn’t, she would fall. With shaky breaths and quivering hands, she slowly opened the notebook.
Her eyes filled with tears the moment they affixed themselves to the familiar handwriting. She could recognize it anywhere, knew it by heart. It was the same that adorned his letters. But it wasn’t just that, oh no. The pages were filled with poems. Poems about… her? No, not her, about the Slayer; then again, she was the Slayer. There was an entry note for each, complete with date, starting from that first fateful night outside the Bronze. She read through the pages, they were all about her. One of them, near the end of the notebook, however, was about her, Buffy, the girl, the woman and his feelings for her, not for the Slayer.
Only tell me you love me
And I’ll stop howling to the moon
You have a better understanding than me
Of this world and its creatures
Take out my heart,
Pull me out of this place
And take me far away
Surround me with mirrors
I want to see only your reflection
Obsession, a joke of destiny put you in my way
Obsession, when you’re not with me you are my obsession
Let your … heart show me all your secrets
And your domino effect break down all my fears
It’s impossible, my love, that all this grieve and pain
Has been imposed by God or by whomever
We have to fight it, you are my obsession
Obsession, a joke of destiny put you in my way
Obsession, when you’re not with me you are my obsession
So what if it wasn’t perfect? Who cared about metric and rhymes when it was heartfelt? Was this what he felt for her? What he thought of their relationship? She had to accept that her predisposition of falling for vampires, the very beings she was destined to kill, was truly a joke of destiny.
She turned the page and read the last poem, gasping what she realized what it was about.
Who are your arms going to fool now
Who are your lips going to lie now
Who are you going to tell “I love you”
And then in silence you’ll give him your body
You’ll stop time over your pillow
He’ll spend a thousand hours looking into your eyes
There’ll only be life loving you
And now who would it be?
And who will write you poems and letters
And who will tell you of his fears and faults
And who will you let sleep over your back
And then when it’s silent you’ll tell him “I love you”
You’ll stop his breath over your face
He’ll lose his path lost in your eyes
And will forget his life loving you
Now who would it be?
Who would it be if it’s not me
I look at myself and cry on the mirror and I feel stupid
Illogical, and then I imagine you giving him the scent of your skin
Your kisses, your eternal smile and even your soul in a kiss
In a kiss goes the soul
And in my soul goes the kiss that could have been
Whose bed would you leave your scent on?
Whose memories will you be on tomorrow?
Whose hours will go by with calm?
And then in the silence will want your body
Time will stop in his face
Who will spend a thousand hours in the window
Who will lose his voice calling for you
Now who would it be?
Now who would it be?
Tears streamed down her face by the time she finished reading. He was jealous… of himself. She’d wondered, if only to herself, whenever she read one of the books of poetry that they assigned her through high school or in College, if she’d ever be the kind of girl, of woman, to inspire anyone to write something as heartbreakingly beautiful as this poem was. If she’d ever be able to inspire that kind of passion, of… dare she say it, love, in someone.
Love. He loved her. He had to or at least he had to feel something deep for her. No one could write something like this and feel nothing for the person they were writing about. Did she love William? She was enamored of all he made her feel with his words, of his romanticism, but it had been mostly a dream… it was hard to evaluate her feelings for a dream since she’d been more than aware that she couldn't be WITH him physically, and with Spike??? Could she love him? When they HAD shared things so physical, so nearly intimate???? Maybe not yet, but she could, easily, very easily. He was William and he was Spike, he was all she ever wanted and all she never imagined she could have.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Meanwhile at Buffy’s house
“Have you been drinking?” Joyce asked Spike after giving him a hug.
“Jus’ a couple beers, Joy— er, mum.” Her look of disapproval was a mirror image of her daughter’s, reminding him why he’d gone to Willy’s in the first place before having to face the slayer.
“You may be more than old enough to drink but I don’t like it one bit since you’re supposed to be protecting my little girl while on patrol. Speaking of, Buffy left about fifteen minutes ago to find you so you should probably get going.”
“Mum,” he began cautiously. “I was wonderin’.” After the ‘almost sex’ he and the slayer ‘almost’ had last night, he was more than determined to have a look at that desk. If it weren’t for those bleeding love letters, things might have gone differently, might have turned into ‘actual’ sex. “May I see the desk Buffy’s been usin’ to communicate to that bloke with? I won’ take too long... promise.” He gave her the most charming of smiles.
“Certainly, dear. Follow me.” Grinning as she led him up the stairs, she sensed Spike’s jealousy over this William fellow though he would probably never admit to it. It pleased her to no end and only confirmed his ‘covering up’ any feelings for her daughter was just that... a cover up. Now, if she could only convince her daughter to see past his lack of heartbeat, she was sure they would make not only a formidable team against the demon world but make each other happy as well.
Joyce went back downstairs, leaving him to inspect the antique in private. He ran his hand over the surface slowly, still unable to shake the feeling he’d seen it before but then it had come from the era when he was human. He’d seen a number of desks like this one, had owned one himself at one point but as to the secret panel, he was clueless.
Crouching down, he studied the underside of it, running both hands along every inch of it in search of some trigger or mechanism that would release the hidden panel Joyce had spoken of. When nothing turned up, he pulled out every drawer and continued his search.
“There you are.” The corners of his mouth curled into an evil smile. A small button on the side of a particular drawer made a slat of wood, flush with the rest of the desk to pop out, revealing two smaller drawers within. He frowned after finding nothing more than several pieces of blank parchment and a few envelopes. However, when opening the second drawer, his attention was immediately drawn to the inkwell. Pulling it out for further inspection, he was sure he’d seen it before, so sure it felt more like déjà vu than mere coincidence it too was from his century as a mortal.
This wasn’t what he came here for... to find two empty drawers. Well, he did come to see the desk but more than anything he wanted to read the letters that pillock wrote that had the slayer’s knickers so tightly knotted that he was unable to get her out of them last night.
They must be here. They must be somewhere in her room. He spied a book-bag over by her closet and after tuning his hearing in to make sure Joyce was still in the kitchen, he set about rummaging through it. When it yielded nothing more than school work, he looked about the room. Where do most birds keep their love letters?
Scanning the room, his eyes landed on her night stand but this too, yielded nothing. He was about to give up when her hairbrush fell off the nightstand upon closing the drawer. Leaning down to pick it up, he spied the edge of a shoe box.
“Bingo!” Not very bloody original, placing her diary in a shoe box that actually read ‘Diary’ on the front of it, but at least it contained the same envelopes he found in the secret panel. As he opened the first, he almost felt guilty for invading the slayer’s privacy like this but then remembered... evil vampire here.
By the time he finished reading all her letters, his blood was boiling. How could the slayer fall for nancy-boy’s mamby-pamby bullshit? Of course it did sound like the type of stuff he used to write when he thought he was in love with Cecily, not to mention the penmanship looked eerily similar to his own back in the day. He shrugged it off and started flipping through her diary.
“... and the way Angel kissed me, told me he loved me... blah blah blah.” He skipped ahead by a few pages. “Angel blah blah.... Angel the love of my life, blah blah...” He made like he was jerking off with one hand while sticking his tongue out to spit in time to the mock strokes. “Bloody poof.” Flipping through the rest of her book revealed she hadn’t written anything in quite some time according to the date of the last entry. Just as well, he was already pissed off enough as it was and needed to get going.
Putting everything back the way it was, he quickly headed downstairs and bid Joyce goodnight, saying nothing more than he was satisfied with what he’d found and would talk to Giles later about the desk’s possible origins.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Slamming the door to his crypt wide open, he had to stop himself from babbling out loud about how the slayer had to have some feelings for him, especially after last night. He expected her to be standing there waiting with an irritated look on her face but found nothing. Tilting his head to one side, he picked up a rustling noise coming from the lower level. Assuming it was her, he headed down.
She heard the bang of the door upstairs and jumped a mile, dropping the notebook to the floor and picking it up in the same heartbeat as she tried to put it back on the same shelf without creating a disaster.
Oh God, oh God, oh God! This was a bad idea, she should have known better than to stay downstairs, no matter how much her curiosity had tempted her. What would he say now when he found her in his bedroom? She picked up a t-shirt that lay over the bed and passed it over her face trying to clean the evidence of her crying and why did the damned vampire not have a mirror around? How would she know if she had raccoon eyes even if her make-up was supposed to be waterproof? She threw the shirt back on the bed and sat down, trying to act as nonchalantly as she could when she heard his footsteps coming down the ladder.
He descended the ladder casually, making it seem as if he didn’t know she was there, when he was more than aware that the daft bint was waiting for him… in his bedroom of all places. Perhaps she was there to continue where they left off last night? Just that thought was enough to melt some of his anger and jealousy away, not to mention making him harden almost painfully in his pants.
Spike hid a smirk as he saw her on his bed, trying to appear as fresh as a cucumber but failing miserably. His irritation continued to wane while his curiosity, and erection, grew. She was slightly out of breath, her heart beating faster than usual and he could practically smell her anxiety coming out of her in waves as she refused to look his way. What had she been doing that had her so agitated?
She didn’t want to look at him. She was sure that if she did, he’d discover what she’d done and that wouldn’t be of the good. Not that not wanting to look at him did her any good anyway, since her silly eyes seemed as if they hadn’t gotten the memo and kept straying to steal glances of him, which only increased her stress levels to the roof.
“Find anything interesting, luv?”
Oh God, how on earth did he find out what she was doing? Then again, how on earth would he know what she’d been doing? Her eyes darted to the bookcase, relieved to see that indeed, the notebook was still in the same place he’d left it. Maybe he was just trying to see if he could make her admit to something. Yes, that was it. Breathing in deeply to calm her frayed nerves, she looked at him.
“Cat got your tongue, pet?”
“N-no, I-I was just...”
“What? Waitin’ for me so we could continue where we left off last night before we were so rudely interrupted?”
“No, of course not. Whatever gave you that silly idea? I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” She blushed at her blatant lie. No, of course you wouldn’t touch him with that, you would touch him with your hands and with your lips and with your whole body, especially if he is who you think he is, annoying little voice interjected.
He refused to let disappointment creep up on him at her words, he knew she was lying. She had to be. He could feel it in his blood. He could see it in the way she avoided looking directly at him while saying it, in the blush that now covered her cheeks while hearing her heart rate increase. She was lying her little but very bitable arse off.
“Then why are you here, in my crypt, on my bed if you’re not waiting for me?” he lowered his voice to a husky whisper, stepping closer to her and running his hand over her arm, delighting in the shiver that very obviously ran through her as he did.
“I-I just came to ask you a question,” she said, before standing up and taking a step away from him.
“A question?” He arched his brow. What the hell did she want to ask him?
“What’s your last name?” she blurted before losing her nerve.
And that’s the last thing he ever expected her to ask. “Why the bloody hell would you want to know that?”
“Just curious.” She tried to sound indifferent though inside she wanted to rip the information out of his throat. If they were one and the same, the next big mystery was why Spike couldn’t remember any of it.
“Why don’ you look it up in one ‘f your bloody Watcher’s books?”
“Because you’re standing right here and it’s quicker for you to tell me.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and tried not to act exasperated. “What’s the matter, is it something stupid sounding?”
“No!”
“Then tell me.”
Hmmm. Maybe he’d been given an opportunity to make her understand last night was not one of those ‘it-just-happened-lack-of-better-judgment’ excuses on her part. It was because she bloody well belonged with him and not some dead guy who couldn’t do anything more than write to her, fill her head with silly notions of love. He was here, with her every day and she could physically touch him... tha’s it.
“It’ll cost you for that information, slayer.”
“Cost me?” she asked incredulously. “You want me to pay you to find out your last name?” He shook his head.
“Not money.”
“Then what?” Tilting his head to the side, he gave her that irritating yet seriously sexy smirk before naming his price.
“A kiss.” Surely she couldn’t deny what she felt after kissing him. Their kisses always led somewhere and now that they weren’t physically fighting, if she kissed him now, if it went any further, it was time for her to admit it... at least to herself.
What?!?! A kiss? Oh God, oh God, oh GOD!!! Her gut instinct was to punch the insane thought out of his bleached head. Had all that peroxide finally seeped into his brain and made him go wonky? Then again, if both men were the same, if Spike was her William then it wasn’t a bad thing, right? If he was, in fact, her William, then it would be their first kiss, er, well, sort of anyway. It would be the first kiss that wasn't magic-induced or lust-induced or... whatever. If she gave him this kiss it would be... real. How many William Pratts could there be from his time? It didn’t seem like a common last name.
“Ahem, gonna make a decision, Slayer? Or are you jus’ gonna stand there all night.”
“Oh, uhmmm... fine. A kiss.” I can do this.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. She’d said yes without a fight? Well, damned if he was going to interfere and ask her if she’d hit her head on the way to his crypt.
“So tell me. What’s your last name?”
“Tsk, tsk, pet. Kiss first, name after.” There she is, he thought. There was the normal, brassed off expression he was used to. But again, she surprised him.
“Well? Are you going to kiss me or what? Time’s ticking. Hello? We need to patrol.” He crooked his finger at her to come closer.
Breathe. Breathe and act disgusted or else he might suspect something. Yeah, that maybe she was hoping he was her William? She stepped up to him with what she considered reasonable kissing proximity so as not to look too eager, although inside, the butterflies were on serious caffeine right now, beating their little wings furiously inside her stomach. She waited, but he still hadn’t kissed her.
“Spike? Now would be good.”
“Uh-uh. You,” he pointed at her, then to himself. “Kiss me.” That earned him a look of shock.
“Fine, whatever.” Why did he have to be so, so ‘Spike’ about this. She decided to make the kiss short, just in case. How icky would that be if she found out he wasn’t her William? Not that icky, if she were to be truthful with herself.
She looked so cute and nervous he almost wanted to laugh. If she felt nothing for him then there was no reason for her to act nervous... so it was a definite sign he’d been right all along. She placed a tiny hand around his neck and tilted her head, rising up on her toes while pulling on him to meet her half way.
Okay, so she intended to make the kiss a brief one, but the moment she felt his silky, cool lips press against hers, that decision flew out the window. She wanted more, more than just a meeting of their mouths, she wanted to taste him. He brought a hand to her cheek, stroking it tenderly with his thumb then tilted his head, trying to deepen the kiss.
She parted her lips a fraction and he took this as all the permission needed to wrap his free arm around her tiny waist and pull her warm body flush to his. Her tongue came out to dance and he could feel himself drowning in her again. Before he became too lost, however, he pulled away to give her what she paid for.
“Pratt. The last name`s Pratt, luv.”
tbc
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ETA: Disclaimer: The poems used in this chapter are my translations from Spanish to English of two songs: Obsesión by Miguel Mateos and Ahora Quien by Marc Anthony, which we thought worked great with what we were trying to convey. Hope you think so, too.