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Chapter 3: Kiss Me, Kill Me, Love Me, Thrill Me

Embarrassment- to feel self-conscious, confused, and ill at ease; disconcert; fluster. To make more difficult; complicate.


cont...

Knock- Knock


Spike’s eyes conveyed both fear and anticipation as his head snapped back to Ulysses.

“Weeeell… get the door, I know you learned everything in like one millisecond and you’re about an hour old, but you do have manners.” He pushed Spike off the couch.

“You get it!” His hands clutched at his friends forearms.

The ethereal being shrugged away from his worried companions grasp. “Hate to break this to you sonny but only you can see me, kinda part of the no interaction scenario.”

“Gee Lyss thanks for tellin’ me, not that you couldn’t have mentioned that before the knock at the bloody door, whoever’s out there is gonna think I’m senile when they find out I’m talkin’ to myself!” He spat through gritted teeth.

Tap-tap-tap-tap

“Hello?”

Spike spun around towards the stranger’s obtrusive presence and back again, Ulysses was gone.

“Wha…”

“Hel-lo!” The voice became louder and more pronounced.

“Uh… comin’!” Spike whipped his head back and forth like a distressed puppy, hoping Ulysses would pop back into the room, no such luck.

He made his way across the cold planks, unlatching the lock, momentarily enjoying the feel of the smooth cool steel prior to jarring the door from it’s frame.

“Hi, sorry…” His eyes froze on the image before him. Beautiful.

“Uh…” mouth suddenly dry the stranger took a moment before rouge tinted her cheeks and she looked away, “sorry if I was, interrupting something.”

“What? No.” His cerulean orbs never moved from her face, his reply unimportant.

“Oh… I… it’s…” the colour of embarrassment deepened as her gaze drifted over his nearly naked frame.

Snapping out of his revelry long enough to take notice of his appearance Spike jumped back a step.

“Bollocks!” His skin flamed. Great thinkin’, answerin’ the door nearly starkers. Kill me now!

A tiny giggled escaped the perfect cherried lips before him.

“Glad m’ utter humiliation brings a smile sweetheart.” He attempted to cover himself, eyes making contact with hers once more.

“Yeah well, I wasn’t the one who forgot clothes this morning,” she smiled her best smile, “I feel no guilt.” Eyes danced as she giggled again.

“What if a cry? Would you feel guilty then pet?” He arched a brow in question.

A wry smile replaced her laughter. “No, but go ahead, It would be funny.”

“Oi! You’re killin’ me here luv!” He gestured between them.

“Buffy.”

“Huh?”

“My name. It’s not love, or pet for that matter, it’s Buffy.” She stuck out a manicured hand. It is Buffy right? Yep, Buffy… points for remembering your name in front of the almost naked, very bumpy stranger. Deep breaths.

“Buffy.” He uttered her name in response as his skin covered her outreached hand; he became lost in the touch. The world around him slipped away as he assimilated the feeling of her soft creamy flesh, he held back a moan, barely. So this is what heaven really…

“…I could just call you ‘that naked guy’.”

He realised she was speaking in time to catch her last few words.

“What?” He jerked his head down, hurriedly checking for the presence of his flimsy shroud.

“Well do you have a name, or should I make one up?” She smirked at his agitated state.

Someone already beat you to it kitten. He snorted suddenly remembering Ulysses.

“Spike.” It was out of his mouth before he finished his thought process.

“Your name is Spike? Some parents you must have.” Buffy raised an eyebrow semi-sceptically.

“William… my…uh…” he thought about the lie for a long moment grimacing, “parents named me William, but my… uh… friends call me Spike.” He tried for a cocky grin, but looked more confused.

“Right,” she flashed a quizzical look briefly, trying to puzzle him out before shaking it off and continuing, “Well I should probably get with the formalities, again I’m Buffy, and as hard to believe as this is I’m actually not here to gawk at clothes-less males-”

“And here I thought you had a fetish.” He smirked- it felt good.

“I’m here,” she shot a quick glare and persisted, “because I’m the building manager. I know you moved in yesterday, but I don’t like being all intrudy when people are unpacking so I thought I’d stop by today.” She clutched her hands together behind her back swinging slightly.

“Right, thanks for that.” He wondered how he managed to move in while he was a non-corporeal form in Heaven.

“Giles mentioned that you applied and paid your deposit and first and lasts while you were still in London, he’s looking forward to meeting you I’m sure.”

He furrowed his brow in contemplation; quickly realising he knew exactly what she was talking about… all the new information was clogging his thought ways. Giles was the landlord; he was from London, check.

“Yeah, the move was pretty sudden.” He didn’t lie.

“How do you like the place? I mean, you didn’t even get to see it before you signed the lease. I’m not good with surprises, especially when said surprise is apartment shaped.” She shrugged.

“It’s…” he leaned back from the doorway, scanning the apartment.

A large studio-loft spread out before him. Hardwood floors, entire right-hand wall covered in privacy blinds, hiding floor to ceiling windows. Black iron staircase in the centre spiralled up to a loft that hung over just half of the space. Cosy kitchen nook and bar, living space, several doors lined the underneath of the loft he would explore those later.

“…great.” He smiled warmly, relaxing.

“Much to my relief, I have to clean these after every occupant moves out, and not that my theory’s been tested, but I suspect even after one day, Giles would get insisty with the slave labour.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Yup, just stay put, don’t have any loud parties, and ex-nay on the breakage of anything not yours and this is sure to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship. One without me fixing dripping faucets and getting woken up by Mr. Snyder’s weaselly voice in the middle of the night.” She shuddered then smiled widely.

Spike studied her for a stretch of time. Relationship?

His intense gaze caused the red in her cheeks to flare up again as she fidgeted slightly. Her adorably shy reaction caused him to break from his revelry.

“If you ever need a hand, I mean, with your manager duties, I’m bloody brilliant with a hammer and wrench.” He winced inside, hoping beyond hope the words pouring from his mouth weren’t complete lies. He wasn’t entirely sure about the capabilities of his body and as far as he could discern there was a vast difference between knowing how to do something and being able to do it and well for that matter. Maybe I’ll be brilliant at fixin’ faucets, doesn’t seem too hard? Or am I in trouble?

“Really? That’s so nice.” She sounded surprised that anyone would dare to be nice.

“Yeah, just call me Mr. Fix-It.” He smiled charmingly. Say ‘ello to trouble you bleedin’ Idiot!

Buffy beamed at that. “I will definitely be taking you up on that offer, I might be the strong independent type, but handling icky things is a whole world of bad that I really don’t want to explore any further.”

“Well, yeah, anytime, night or day, just give me a ring.” Still smiling. Keep it coming you wanker, why stop now, when you’ve been signed up for all things ‘icky’, push it and maybe you’ll have the pleasure of takin’ on gross, slimy and thoroughly disgustin'.

“You already hooked up the phone?”

“No, not exactly, but when I do I’ll get that number to you straight away, how’s that sound pet?”

“Its still Buffy.”

“Come again luv?” He wasn’t sure if he had been paying attention again or not.

“My name… it hasn’t changed in the last few minutes, still not pet or love.” She was smiling despite the correction.

“Buffy is a lovely name…” he suddenly had an idea, “but I’ll make you a deal.”

She raised a poignant brow, crossing her arms over her chest, but never let her smile fade. “I’m listening.”

“My helpful hand around the buildin’ in exchange for you easin’ up on a bloke and allowin’ a few little endearments now and again. What d’ya say kitten?” He emphasised that last word, almost purring.

“Uh-um…I.” Her voice wavered for a moment. “S-seems fair. Well…” Shaking it off she regained control of her faculties. “It was nice meeting you Spike.”

“Likewise.” He beamed like an idiot as she backed away.

“Oh, and…” she halted before turning down the hall, “nice boxers.” She giggled and was gone.

He didn’t want to look, he willed himself to bend his neck and take in the sight of the ridiculed object.

“Oi! VERY FUNNY!” He stepped back into his new place slamming the door violently.

“He’s not without a sense of humour.” Ulysses suddenly appeared on a bar stool laughter erupting from him.

“I should pluck every smart-ass feather from your…”

“Oooooooooh threats, I’m so scared!” He scoffed.

Spike lunged for his mocking friend only to have him disappear in a flash.

“Over hear blondie!” Ulysses taunted from the edge of the loft.

“Ponce!” Was all Spike could manage to bite out.

“Oh honey, lets make up, I hate when we fight.” He giggled manically.

“You should leave, I reckon I can do this on my own, right!” He hid his fear through carefully placed anger.

“Look, there are plenty of clothes up here, you can change… and burn those if you like, ok!” He gestured behind him.

Mumbling under his breath as he ascended the stairs. “Yeah, set you on fire while I’m at it.”

“I heard that!”

“I thought your hearing had seen its better day!” Spike accused, reaching his destination.

“Comes and goes.” He laughed.

“Right, I should have guessed I’d get the only bloody Angel, who can manage to lie!” Growling he turned away like a sullen child.

“Impossible and you know it. I just… bend the truth a little that’s all. Now take a look at your wardrobe you whiner.”

Spike sauntered over, opening what was sure to be a closet door. An array of clothing was folded on shelves and hanging neatly.

He seized a pair of black jeans and a black cotton shirt.

“What style!” Ulysses quipped sarcastically.

“Bugger off!”

“Your boxers are in the chest of drawers.” He pointed a devilish finger, letting a wild smirk play.

“They can stay there, ‘m not wearing another pair of bleedin’ knickers long as I live. Now turn ‘round!”

Ulysses averted his eyes while Spike tore off the infuriated garment- baby blue silk boxers covered top to bottom with cute little angels playing harps and walking on clouds. Three words in fluffy navy writing were scrolled over the very center of their front- Heaven On Earth. Both irony and innuendo were blaring.

He quickly got dressed, clearing his voice roughly to alert Ulysses he was decent.

“Happy?” Ulysses asked.

“Thrilled.”

~



*A/N: And so they meet! I hope you all liked it! The next chapter we learn a lot more about Buffy and why things are happening! A couple more "familiar" faces pop into the fic as well! Please please please review, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! *hugs*





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