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Thank you so much for your reviews, and keep them coming. It's like crack, but cheaper, and not bad for me. Enjoy the update!
A persistent knock on the door woke both Gunn and Buffy from a dead sleep at four in the morning.

“Spike, man, what’s wrong?” Gunn said sleepily when he opened the door. Buffy’s eyes widened and she rolled over to see their boss hovering in the door, hair messy, still in his clothes from the last time she’d seen him, but clearly sobered up.

“Sorry,” he apologized, his voice scratchy. “Buffy, I need you upstairs. Now.”

Without any protest Buffy jumped out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt and her glasses.

“What’s up, do I need to—“ Gunn started to offer, but was cut off by Spike.

“No, just need the computer bird, thanks mate,” he said firmly.

Buffy slipped on her flip flops and shrugged her confusion at Gunn. “I guess I’ll be back in a bit?” she said, and followed Spike up the stairs.

“What’s going---“

“Shhhh,” Spike silenced her. “Let’s talk when we’re upstairs.”

Buffy’s eyes widened as he led her past the hall that would lead to his office, and up the stairs to the area of the house that, according to Fred, “No one ever goes but Spike”.

At the very top of the stairs was a door that he quickly unlocked. He led her through his bedroom so swiftly she didn’t even have time to look around, and into another home office. Why he had two, she had no idea. “Why are we—“

“Buffy, please,” he spun and said to her. She almost recoiled at the raw desperation in his eyes. “I can’t explain, not right now, love, I can’t. I just need you to help me.” She nodded without another question. He led her over to the desk and sat her down in front of a laptop.

“Everything on this hard drive, everything, I need you to protect. However you can. No one can get into these files, no one, kitten, do you hear me? I need everything on discs, and those discs need to be safe as houses. Can you do it?”

“I—I can try,” she said nervously. The intensity and anxiety in his words and gaze scared her. “I mean, I know what I would do, but…someone could figure out how to break the codes, I’m not…It’s not magic.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, running his hands through his curling, bleached hair. “But it would take awhile, yeah? It wouldn’t be easy for someone to figure out how to read them.”

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded. “I can make it pretty damn difficult.”

“Good. Do it.”

She sat down and quickly went to task. Spike paced, allowing the fear and rage and worry to simmer and boil, but then subside, as he watched the ease of Buffy’s work. He observed her in awe. She didn’t even seem to think, she just moved, her fingers flying quickly across the keyboard, grabbing disks and putting them in the drive, biting her lip, narrowing her eyes. Her beautiful face was illuminated by the blue glow of the screen, and her glasses served to magnify her huge green eyes. She was so confident, so assured.

It was a turn on.

“Can I get some water?” Buffy asked without looking up from the screen.

“Yeah! Yeah, sorry, love,” he said, jumping up quickly and running to the bathroom. He called back, “I can get you soda from downstairs, or food, or—“

“No, just water.”

He came back in and set the glass down next to her, then backed up quickly, as if his very presence near her would be a nuisance.

Buffy had done so much practice encoding that it was second nature to her. And while the different locks and traps she was putting on each disk were certainly the most complicated she’d ever done, there was still brain power available for thinking other things.

Such as what was in these files. Spike wasn’t watching over her shoulder, which was helpful, and she knew she was doing an excellent job of hiding the fact that she was memorizing as much of the information as she could that she was carefully locking up in a metaphorical safe.

It was detailed accounts of crimes committed by Liam Angelus over the past four years. Bank records, police reports, tracking accounts, photographs, audio files. Buffy had her hands on enough evidence to put Liam Angelus away for life. Evidence that the FBI could only dream of having.

Evidence Spike had clearly been collecting for some time.

God, what she wanted it to mean was that he was on the side of good. That he had changed. That he wanted to go clean. That he was an informant for some part of the government, or wanted to be.

But Spike was incriminated in almost fifty percent of these crimes. Drugs. Theft. Embezzlement. Even murder. He would never give this information over to the authorities, right? Because he’d be put away for almost as long as Angelus. As she skimmed each of the files and wrapped them up tight in chains and locks of codes and passwords, her brain spun even more. What the hell was going on?

It had been an hour, maybe two. Her ass hurt. Her eyes were sore. She was nearing the end of the hard drive, and was no closer to understanding anything.

And she could feel Spike watching her.

After a few more minutes, she ejected the last disk and leaned back with a flourish. “And I am done.”

Spike breathed a shaky sigh of relief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, then looked up at his face. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

He averted his eyes from her. “I can’t.”

“I figured.” Buffy got up and moved to stomp off angrily, but Spike grabbed her and spun her back around.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, pet—“

“No, no, I get it, I’m just your, your, your something---“

“---I just don’t want to put you in any danger---“

“--it’s just, really, I know I was a bitch before—“

“You weren’t a bitch.“

“--But this was weird, what were all those files about---“

“Bloody hell, I know---“

“And you got me out of bed, so I deserve to know—“

“With your sodding boy toy---“

“Plus you were trashed earlier---“

“I’m so sorry about how I acted---“

“---I’m worried about you—“

“You are?”

“And I miss you.”

There was a moment of blissful silence.

“You miss me?” He said hopefully.

She hadn’t meant to let those words slip out.

“I do. Not when you’re slobbering drunk, but--”

His lips were on hers instantly. It was a kiss between two people who should have never spent any time apart, but did, for reasons neither could remember at this particular moment, and it was a kiss between two people who hoped never to be apart again. It was all desperate force and lust, raw passion and need, but filled with the sweetness of reunion, and the agony of potential love.

“I missed you, I missed your taste, I missed your everything,” Spike said in between sweet, chaste kisses to her lips and cheeks as he softly stroked her hair. “Dying without you.”

“It was like, four days,” Buffy said with a forced lightness once he finally pulled away. “And you hardly know me.”

“Four bloody days too long. And I do know you.”

“How?”

“I just do. You know me too, don’t you? You know what I am, who I am, even if we haven’t really known each other that long.”

Buffy paused, wanting to lighten the intense conversation. She started to joke, trying to remove this heavy sense of destiny from around them, “Come on, be serious, you could have found a nice girl to ha---“

“There is no one else but you,” Spike interrupted firmly, grasping her face between his hands and staring her directly in the eyes.

“You…you really mean that.” It wasn’t a question. The sincerity in his eyes couldn’t be faked.

His soft smile was the only response she needed.

Buffy reached for him and covered his mouth with hers, then walked him backwards until he sat in the desk chair. She ran her hands through his hair, down his chest, and started unbuckling his jeans. He moaned in her mouth and raised his own hands to pull off her sweatshirt, but pulled away with a “Huh?” as she stilled his movement.

Spike’s questioning gaze shifted into one of surprise when she sank to her knees in front of him, took off her glasses, and set them on the desk.

“Buffy…” he said in wonder as she finished undoing his pants and pulling out his cock.

She descended and delicately licked the tip, eliciting another reverential whimper of her name. He gently wrapped his hands around her head as she licked him top to bottom, touched every available inch of him with her wet and willing tongue, stroked him with her hands, until she slid his penis between her lips and down her throat. His turned on utterances of her name and proclamations of her beauty spurred her on; she glanced up and relished the look of utter awe and devotion in Spike’s eyes.

It was an apology for things she’d yet to decide, it was a seeking of forgiveness for what she knew she would do, it was a way to be close to him, to have him, to taste him, when she knew that she’d just have to return to bed with Gunn, return to a lie he still had to believe.

Giving him such satisfaction created pleasure within her own body, and she moaned around his erection as she took as much of it as she could into her mouth. She quickly learned just how to touch him, to drive him crazy, using her lips and fingers and tongue to push him into a frenzy.

“God, Buffy,” Spike sighed as his orgasm began to rise from deep within his body. “Perfect, baby, God, you’re perfect.” She sped up her tempo and his grip on her head tightened, and he no longer made sense as he verbalized his enjoyment. “You….God…I…beautiful…gonna…don’t……you…gonna…come…”

And when he did, he growled his climax, as she took him all the way in and swallowed. She drank down every drop of his release, and licked him delicately as his cock softened. Spike gingerly touched her face and she looked up at him with a smile.

He pulled her into his lap and kissed her softly, dipping one hand under the waistband of her shorts to stroke her eager sex. “Spike,” she protested, wriggling away grudgingly. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He murmured into her hair. “I need all of you.”

“I have to go downstairs,” Buffy whispered. He pulled away, looking horrified, but she quickly amended, “I don’t want to. I don’t, but…I have to, do you understand? Please…”

Spike weakly nodded, and the hurt look in his eyes broke Buffy’s heart. She kissed him gently then got up off of his lap, not trusting her resolve to hold when he was looking at her like that. She grabbed her glasses and turned to go.

“Let me walk you down,” Spike said, buttoning up his trousers and grabbing her hand.

“No,” she sighed, pulling away from him for what felt like the millionth time, and she didn’t really want to this moment either. “Get some sleep, okay? You look exhausted.” She leaned in to give him a quick kiss, but he grabbed her hips and pulled her flush to him, taking from her lips what he couldn’t take from her body or her heart in a wet and passionate tangle of tongues.

“Goodnight, love,” he panted as he grudgingly let her go.

Spike listened to the sound of her closing the door to his rooms behind her, and shuddered once his eyes traveled to the pile of disks she’d left behind. He grabbed them quickly and headed into his bathroom, where he removed a painting from the wall to reveal a metal safe. He quickly put in the code and shoved the disks inside, then closed it with a bang, and let out a sigh of relief.





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