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"You can’t be serious?"

She poked him in the arm as they strolled along the path to the river. "Don’t laugh, I’m very committed to saving the planet. Cars are bad for the earth."

He chuckled at her self-righteous expression. "You don’t seem to have any problem with being a passenger I’ve noticed." He adopted a high falsetto tone. "Oh Gram, I need to go to town. Can Spike take me, he’s so handsome." He fluttered his eyelashes at her.

"Oh please, I never said that."

He winked. "But you wanted to."

"Whatever. Anyway, it’s just, cars and I, not mixy."

"Buffy, it’s a machine, not a person, you just get in and drive." He paused for a minute. "Except maybe for your grandfather’s De Soto."

She rolled her eyes. "Again with the whatever. It’s just not that simple."

"Sure it is, you’ve got a wheel, a gas pedal and a brake. Very simple."

"Yeah, until I touch one of them," she muttered.

"You want me to teach you how?"

She snuck a glance over at him.

"I’m a very good teacher," he added persuasively.

She felt her heart flutter just a little faster as the words filtered through her brain. She imagined he would be a very good instructor, and not just with driving. With other things.

Like kissing. Which she should not be thinking about. But every so often, he’d look at her just so and she’d feel it, like a bolt of lightening, this need, this tightening inside, that she imagined only he could soothe.

"Buffy?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Earth to Buffy?"

She laughed it off. "Sorry, I was being a real space cadet there. So you’d really be willing to teach me?"

"Absolutely." He waggled his eyebrows. "I like to live dangerously."

"Okay, then. When do we start?"

"How about tonight?"

"Tonight?" She let out a small eep. "No, no, no. I need some time to, you know, get in the right frame of mind."

"Yeah. That’s part of your problem. You’re overthinking. Driving’s got be like a reflex, you just go for it. So come on, we’ll do it tonight."

He looked so excited she couldn’t really say no, could she? "Alright, but I’m warning you. We need a big field or something. I hit stuff."

~~~~~~~~~~~

The water was cold, but not in the bone-chilling way it was when the weather was mild. No, now the temperature was soothing, a relief to skin left drenched by the unrelenting rays.

Spike had followed her down the path carrying the basket her grandmother had given her along with a measured look which Buffy chose to read as "Be careful and don’t drown," rather than what ever other warning it might have been.

She’d caught just the faintest of protests as they’d headed out the screen door, and her grandfather placating her gran. But she wasn’t going to think about that now. She turned back to Spike.

"The water feels so good right now. Want to go in first?"

He sat down the basket with a shrug. "Suppose so."

Her mouth went dry as she watched him take off the t-shirt he’d worn, leaving him a pair of black trunks and a smile. She realized too late she was gaping and that he’d seen it. He did a slow revolve, stalked towards her like a runway model and then winked.

"See something you like?"

She stuck out her tongue and tried to play off the rising blush. "Just blinded by all the white." She slid her sunglasses down. "Yeah, that cuts the glare."

He snorted and tossed her glasses off her nose. "Yeah, yeah. Alright, you had your peep show, give me mine."

She raised an eyebrow. He raised one back. She reached for the button on her shorts.

And then gasped as she came up sputtering from the shock of being tossed into the cool water. "Spike!"

He was doubled over on the bank laughing as she stalked out of the water. "Oh, you are gonna pay for that, mister."

"Yeah, if you catch me!"

She ignored his plunge into the water as she struggled with the sodden fabric and managed to get the shorts and t-shirt off. She found a branch and hung them over it to dry in the sun before turning back to the river where Spike was lazily floating in the pool of slow running water that curved into the bank.

"You’re in for it now, buddy," she muttered as she waded back into the water as quietly as she could. Apparently not stealthy enough though. He rolled over, still mostly submerged as she headed in his direction.

Something in his expression made her pause as she waded in. For the moment at least, the playful teasing smile he wore so often around her now was gone. In his eyes instead was something that made her supremely aware of herself, of the way his eyes traced the pink top that clung to her breasts and the bottoms that hung on her hips, of the . . . hunger that was there, as though he could devour her with just a look.

And then he ducked under the water and the moment was gone, leaving her shaking her head and wondering if it was just her fevered imagination that left her feeling so hot and bothered. Until something grabbed her foot.

She shrieked and flailed and kicked until he popped up in front of her laughing so hard she thought he would fall over. She helped him out.

When he reemerged, he was still laughing. "You should have seen your face when I came up. Thought the creature from the black lagoon had you or something?"

"Are you crazy? You don’t grab people like that. They could have heart attacks. There are things under the water, Spike."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Fish and . . . and stuff."

"So," he paused for a minute, "let me just get this straight. You’re afraid a big, bad fish is going to come along and do what exactly? Swim by you?"

She crossed her arms. "Still not funny."

"Whatever. Let’s go short . . . just Buffy and have lunch."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So what’s this thing tomorrow going to be like?"

"Oh, the thing in town?"

"Yeah. All stars and stripes and rah, rah, rah?"

She shrugged. "Kind of. It’s more social. They have these goofy contests and stuff, three-legged races and pie-eating contests, things like that. Lots of food." She rubbed her belly. "I usually eat myself sick, with the hamburgers and watermelon and Gram always brings her strawberry shortcake and . . ."

He rolled over on his back. "Sounding good so far."

"It’s fun. The adults sit around talking most of the afternoon, the kids play games, the teenagers just hang. Everyone waits around for it to get dark, then they light the fireworks. They’re amazing, you can see’m for miles around." She rolled over on her towel so she could face him. "So, you are coming?"

"Of course. Have to figure out what makes you Yanks tick, you know, part of the whole reason I came over here."

She rolled her eyes. "You do know it’s a celebration of kicking England’s ass?"

"Not even going to debate the reasons you got lucky with that one."

"Fine, fine." She reached for the lotion and added a little more to the bridge of her nose where she always got a little too much sun. "You get some of this?"

She looked over at his rapidly reddening back. "Spike? Did you not put on sunscreen?"

He glanced back and frowned. "No, didn’t think about it."

She was kneeling by him in a flash. "Stupid man You’re going to be a lobster if you aren’t careful." She squirted the cold lotion on to his back and ignored his exclamation as she stated to rub the cream into his skin.

He had a beautiful back. It was an objective fact. Beautiful the way his muscles rounded over his shoulders across the defined blades that her hands smoothed down to the taper of his waist. She repeated the motion, sliding her hands down, then up, then down, taking her time to spread the lotion evenly across his skin. Because that was all she was doing. Really. Over and over.

Until he rolled over and grabbed her hand mid-swipe, his eyes dark. "What are you playing at, Buffy?"

"N-n-nothing," she stammered.

He searched her eyes for a minute and seemed satisfied. "Sorry, pet. Thanks for putting that on for me."

"You’re welcome." He let her hand go.

The sun was further across the sky now, the shadows starting to lengthen as they sat, locked in the tension of the moment.

"You want let’s cool off again?"

She nodded, and followed him back to the water. There were things going on here that she didn’t understand. Spike had been mercurial all afternoon, bouncing from playful to sullen to guarded and back and she didn’t understand what she was supposed to be doing. Mixed signals.

And they said women were confusing.

"You want to play a game?" she asked.

"Alright. You know how to play Marco Polo?" he answered.

"Of course, silly. Who doesn’t know that one?"

"Good. Let’s play." The sunny smile was back in place now that they were back on their usual turf.

"Who’s it?" She got up from the towels and headed toward the water, leaving the tension behind.

"I’ll be it." He was only steps behind her.

"Alright, but I’m warning you, I’m good at this."

"So am I. Now off with you." He stood waist deep in the water and started counting off as she swam a little ways away.

"Ready?"

She didn’t reply. He smiled. "Marco?"

"Polo." She instantly dived and came up several feet away. "Marco?’

"Polo."

The game continued for several minutes. He was right, he was good, clueing in on the splashes and ripples and honing in on her as she stayed just out of his reach. She was breathless and giggling after his last swipe just caught the string of her swimsuit as she wiggled out of reach. She couldn’t resist sticking out a tongue he couldn’t see as she made her getaway.

Except he’d somehow anticipated her move and made the same turn she did, causing her to stumble right into his outstretched arms with a muffled oof.

"Gotcha," he murmured in her ear as he held her upright while she struggled for her balance in the slick bottom.

"Guess you win." She was caught in his eyes, so close, as his arms banded around her waist and kept them together.

"Guess I do." She knew he must be able to feel her heart, which felt like it was about to jackhammer out of her chest, the slight tremble of her hands as she held on to him and watched his lips move closer to hers. He was going to kiss her. She could feel it.

"You are so very beautiful, Buffy." His lips brushed her ear as he tightened his hold for a brief moment and then set her steadily on her feet. "And so very dangerous."

He turned and backed away, heading towards the shore.

She watched him walk away in disbelief before following. Just as he mounted the bank and reached for his towel, she caught his arm and forced him to face her.

"What was that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"Well, maybe I’m a little slow. Run it by me again. You almost kissed me, Spike."

"Yeah, I did. My apologies, I was out of line." He went back to drying himself off and reached for his shirt.

"Nu-uh, it’s not that simple. Why didn’t you?" She moved closer. "You wanted to. I wanted you to."

He jerked the shirt over his head and shrugged until it settled around his shoulders. "Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll talk."

"Why can’t we talk right now."

His eyes pointedly drifted to her breasts. "Because you’re distracting me."

"And that’s a bad thing?"

He sighed. "Yeah, Buffy it is. Please, be a pet and get dressed and we’ll chat this out."

She felt as though she’d won some sort of victory at his admission and so she complied. Her clothes were dry now, if wrinkled, and she slid them over the swimsuit as she made her way back to where he was sitting on the bank, feet dangling in the water.

It reminded her of the night they became friends.

She settled beside him.

"How old are you Buffy?"

"Seventeen, you know that."

"And how old am I?"

"Twenty-one."

"Where do you live?"

"Los Angeles."

"And where do I?"

"Spike, this is stupid."

"Just answer the question."

"London."

He nodded as though he’d made his point.

"Spike, that’s why you won’t kiss me? Cause you’re a couple of years older and you don’t live around here? That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. Why Gramps is years older than Gram, like ten or something and it’s not like you’re in London now, and . . ."

And then he was kissing her and the whole world stopped. As first kisses went, it was more than memorable. The gentle slide of his mouth across hers, the way his tongue sipped at her lips, causing her to sigh and pull him closer. And then the world spun faster as he groaned into her mouth and the soft kiss spiraled into something harsher and wilder. She felt the grass at her back and her fingers clutching in his hair, trying to draw him even closer as everything in the universe narrowed to the touch and taste and feel of his lips on hers.

And then she was bereft, alone as he dragged himself away and shakily put a few feet between them, a slight tremble in his hand as he ran it shakily through his hair revealing that she wasn’t the only one affected by what had just happened.

He steadied himself before he spoke quietly, still not meeting her gaze. "That’s why Buffy. Because it’s not just all of the above. If that’s all it was, I probably would have kissed you before. But this, between us, this is playing with fire."

He turned eyes on her that seemed strangely old. "You don’t want to be burned now, do you?"





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