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He stared at the amber liquid for a long time before he poured another drink. Knowing it was probably the worst of worst ideas, but he couldn’t resist. The fireworks had stopped a few minutes before, the pops and whistles fading away now into the usual almost silence of the farm at night.

She’d be here soon.

He been trying to suss out exactly what had happened this afternoon for the longest time now. Why had he followed her when he’d seen her with that poncy git? Nice little farm boy like that, ‘bout her age, it was exactly what Buffy needed.

Not someone like him.

But he couldn’t let well enough alone. Oh no. Despite his best efforts to put her off yesterday afternoon, he’d make a mistake with that kiss that had haunted him all night.

By the look on her face when she’d slid into the car this morning, she’d seen it as more of a challenge than anything. He’d resisted temptation at first, though he was hardly oblivious to the clear effort she’d made. But he’d kept his cool, enjoyed the spectacle and the food, and then promptly extracted himself from her presence. Because if he’d had to look at that halter top just low enough to keep him sneaking yet another peak at her soft cleavage any longer, he’d have lost it.

So he’d taken off and low and behold, the perfect distraction. Faith. Not one to hold a grudge apparently for him bailing out on their date and then never calling again. No, she’d been just a friendly as ever, though something along the lines of a cat in heat was probably the fairest description.

And it had worked for a bit. Warm, willing, slightly older, clearly well-versed in the ways of the world. Not an innocent baby who swallowed him up with her enormous green eyes and made him feel like he was someone special.

He didn’t want to be that someone. He hadn’t been that innocent in years.

So yeah, he’d seen her catch sight of them, taken in her hurt little gaze and the little snoot of her nose as she walked away. And he’d thought the problem was solved. She’d be angry with him when she got home, probably give him the silent treatment for a day or two, but she’d have gotten the message loud and clear.

And then he had to go and bollix it all up.

It had been hard to miss the farm boy who’d swooped in on her, the way he’d sized up her assets and swiftly made his move. Her quick take to the kid had surprised him a little, though he’d caught her glancing his way once, a toss of her head that said two can play at this game. And then she seemed to forget him, pranced off, clinging to the whelp’s arm as though he were God’s gift or something.

They’d done the rounds, stopped for approval from the grandparents, who were all smiles and waves as the pair set off. Faith’s tongue had been in his ear at that point, and her hand suggestively moving on his thigh in a way that should have entirely put Buffy from his mind. He’d tried to focus on her, and the no strings attached night she was offering him with a low whisper in his ear.

But all he’d been able to do was watch those bright red shorts strut towards the bathrooms while the boy ogled her rear. And in that instant, something had snapped.

He’d pulled away from the limpet attached to his neck. Faith was left looking pissed off at his abrupt disengagement, but he’d managed to get out some halfway plausible excuse to make a hasty exit in time to waylay Buffy before she rejoined her date.

She’d looked stunning as she walked out, lips freshly crimson, hair swinging just so. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from pulling her round the corner to hide them from prying eyes. Hadn’t been able to resist the lure of her sweet lips again.

But he also hadn’t expected the powerful reaction, the way she’d molded herself to him, meeting him with a matching hunger that told him this was a lost battle and he might as well surrender. If he were honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop their clinch from reaching its logical conclusion if he hadn’t heard the boy coming back for her, and that knowledge had sobered him, despite several drinks to blur the reality.

Because he wasn’t looking for that. For someone with the kind of power that could make him lose himself entirely in her. He’d been down that road, learned the hard way that pinning your hopes on one person was a fool’s idea of happiness.

And in a strange way, he wanted to protect Buffy from that as well. This thing between them wasn’t one-sided, she was as susceptible as he was to the undertow that could pull them down. And she deserved better than that, better than him, for the first bloke she fancied herself in love with.

Except right now, she couldn’t see that.

He stubbed out the solitary smoke he’d allowed himself inside tonight. It wouldn’t be long now. And he still had no idea what to do.

The knock on the door startled him out of his reverie and he tossed back the dregs from his glass and moved to open it..

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

He was backlit by the lamp glowing in the room, a haze around him as he leaned in the doorway and smiled down at her. Her stomach was doing those little back flip things that made her feel like she might lose her lunch or might learn to fly, she wasn’t sure which at the moment. He was so beautiful.

He stepped back and gestured. "Come in, Buffy."

The way he said her name, that slight inflection his accent gave it, made it seem less stupid, almost exotic to her ears. He rarely used it, favoring her with every nickname in the book when he teased. But now, now he was regarding her steadily, seriously.

She’d thought about him all evening, closing her eyes and reliving this afternoon, the way he’d smelled, the slide of his hands on her, the groan he’d made as she’d moved against him. Owen had nudged her a few times to keep her with the flow of the conversation and she’d tried not to appear too spacey in front of the others. But she’d really just been counting the minutes until the final red tendrils of fire died away across the sky and she would be with him.

She’d imagined it differently though. Him sweeping her through the door, carrying her to the bed, laying her down, like a good Harlequin romance novel. Which she knew was sort of cheesy, but she wasn’t really sure what would happen at that point. Well, she knew the technicalities and terminology for it all, thanks to good old sex ed class and her mom’s blushing birds and the bees talk, but her knowledge of how it all actually went down was based on a blurry mix of second-hand conversations and rumors she’d always thought maybe weren’t true.

She shifted nervously and wished they could just skip straight to the kissing. When he kissed her, she didn’t, couldn’t think really, it was all about the sensations. But this, this was scary. She tried to swallow, wished she had some water or something, because her mouth seemed was so dry.

But instead he seemed to want to talk. Talk? Huh? Where were the heaving bosoms and thrusting members? Wasn’t that how this was supposed to go now? He’d seated himself at the table and poured another glass of the whiskey, gesturing her to the other seat.

"Thirsty, kitten?"

She wasn’t really sure she could stomach the hard liquor at the moment, she was already on a bit of a roller coaster ride. "Um, no, I think I’ll be okay."

He grinned and chuckled a little and she felt herself start to relax. "Wasn’t trying to get you schnockered there pet. I have some cola."

She brightened at that. "Oh, yes, please, that’d be good."

He poured her a glass. She continued to shift nervously in her seat until he slid it in front of her. She took a big gulp, refreshing her throat, then placed the glass back down as he leaned forward, reaching for her hand.

He slid his fingers around her wrist, seeming fascinated with its slimness and bone structure as he traced the skin above her pulse point in a way that made goose pimples stand up all over her skin. She almost jumped when he finally spoke.

"Buffy, what are you after here?"

The dry mouth was back. "W-what do you mean?"

"I mean what’s this thing we’re playing at? Just wanting a few smooches, some good stories to carry back to your buds? Little bit of slap and tickle? Something . . . else?"

"Oh." Slap and tickle? "Oh. Um, no, I mean, I don’t know, it’s not that, I mean, I haven’t really thought about it like that." She cursed her tongue and brain for sounding entirely incoherent at the question.

He nodded. "Didn’t much think so. You know what I think?" He was still keeping her enthralled with his gentle movements on her wrist.

"What?"

"I think there’s something between us. An attraction, yeah?"

She nodded, "Uh-huh."

"But I also think that could give us some problems, what with us being friends and all. Because we are, aren’t we Buffy? Friends, that is?"

"Yes. But does that mean we couldn’t be something else?"

"Like what?"

She searched her brain. What was the phrase she’d heard Cordelia toss out? Right, she had it. "Couldn’t we be friends with benefits?"

He laughed a little at that. "Well, well, never underestimate today’s youth I suppose. So is that what you want Buffy, a friend who you can play with?" The way he caressed the word play almost made her shiver at all its implications.

"I, I think so."

He watched her eyes until she started to lower them a little, then caught her chin and lifted her face so she couldn’t hide from him. "You sure that’s all you want, nothing . . . deeper?"

She couldn’t quite decipher what he was trying to say to her. There was something in his tone, in the nuances of that word that caused her breath to hitch just a little at the wealth of possibilities that it held.

"I’m not sure."

He leaned back then and she followed him forward, wanting his touch, even the slightest contact back as he returned to toying with his glass.

"Well, that’d be the problem here, pet. You don’t know precisely what you want. And that’s how someone ends up getting hurt." He tilted his head and his eyes softened as he tried to make it easier. "You know that Buffy, we’ve both seen it."

"But Spike, who would get hurt, if we both, you know, want to do stuff?" She gave a little gasp. "Oh, do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, no girlfriend. But there are other people involved who could get hurt here." She looked puzzled until he pointed at her and then him. "Maybe you, maybe me."

She bit her lip. "Does this mean you don’t want me then?" She knew her voice sounded small, almost pathetic, but she couldn’t help it. Her eyes were closed tightly, not wanting to see his face. All her pretty daydreams were rapidly disintegrating and she was starting to think this was yet another one of his attempts to talk circles around her as a fancy way of rejecting her. She wished he’d just said that from the start.

He was on his knees in front of her chair, her face in his hands before she could move. "Does this feel like I don’t want you?"

His tongue traced her lower lip gently where her teeth were still embedded and she whimpered just a little at the soothing contact. He pulled her to the edge of the seat with one hand, while the other tangled in the end of her ponytail and guided her head towards his slanted mouth.

It wasn’t quite like either time he’d kissed her before. Not new and unexpected. Not wild and dangerous. It was gentler, reassuring, and yet she could feel her whole body softening towards him as he tilted her head back and kissed a trail down to her collarbone, murmuring something against her skin that she couldn’t quite make out, but that set her blood to racing at the vibrations of his lips on her sensitive skin. She shivered against him and tried to pull him closer as she ran her hand over his shoulders to the muscles in his back, bunching and tensing beneath his skin.

They sat that way for a long time, her holding him against her, feeling his heart beating against her body, his lips still buried against her throat as their breathing gradually slowed from the initial rush.

She slowly pulled away and raised his head, "Spike, I don’t understand what’s going on here. You’re confusing me. Why don’t you tell me what you want?"

He smiled and she was more than a little distracted as he nuzzled her just a bit without replying and then she caught herself and pulled his head back up again.

"No way, mister. Don’t be distracting me like that."

She got the full on Spike power grin that time and it was kind of blinding as he traced the neckline of her halter again. She had to congratulate herself on the wardrobe choice, he’d definitely seemed taken with the outfit.

"Like you weren’t trying to be distracting all day in this?"

She had to smirk a little at that. "Maybe. What makes you think I wore it for you? Maybe it was for Owen."

He shot her a disbelieving look and goosed her ribs just a bit, enough to get a giggle and a swat out of her. "That’s the git’s name? Pfft, you expect me to believe that?"

"Conceited much? You think it’s all about you?" He flexed his fingers again and she squirmed. "Okay, okay, I thought you might like."

"Oh, I do very, very much."

And then they were kissing again and somehow the tie on the halter had started to loosen as his fingers grazed the sides of her breast gently. She gasped a little as he palmed the soft mound in his hand, smoothing and caressing the underslope in a way that made her toes tingle with anticipation of where he might touch her next.

He pulled back with a visible effort as she caught the top before it fell down entirely and held it to her breasts. He was breathing hard and she felt a little thrill of satisfaction that she’d done that.

"This wasn’t how I planned it."

She arched an eyebrow, "Really, how did you plan it?"

"We were going to chat things out, get clear on where we stood."

She sensed more talking coming up and tried to head things off. "I thought we did that already. Remember? You over there, me over here." She wrinkled her nose. "Not of the good."

"Maybe not, but Buffy, I don’t want to hurt you. Do you understand that? I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep, and the end of the summer will come before we know it."

He was deadly serious, and a part of her knew that he was right to be concerned, to lay some ground rules between them. It was oddly touching that he cared enough to want her to understand he couldn’t promise her some kind of big uber love thing.

She reached out and cupped his face. "I get it. You can’t promise me forever. You’re not gonna be my one and only. I know that Spike. I’m seventeen, not stupid. I don’t want that either. Friends with benefits, remember?"

He leaned into her hand, his eyes still locked with hers. "You sure about that?"

She nodded. "I’m not as good with words as you." She tapped his lips lightly with her finger and giggled as his tongue gave a quick swipe that caught the tip. "You on the other hand sometimes don’t know when to shut up. But yeah, I’m sure. Spike, I like you. You’re gorgeous, you’re fun to hang with, and your kisses are um . . ."

"Amazing?"

She rolled her eyes. "Did I mention conceited? But yes, amazing. I like this. I don’t have expectations or whatever it is you’re afraid of, okay? We’re clear."

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

She seemed so calm when she said it, and he really did believe she meant it. She didn’t know what it was like to have love consume you, it was all a bit of a game with her. And he wasn’t planning on being a fool again and make it anything other than that to him. He’d tread lightly on her heart, enjoy snogging her and no one would be the worse come September.

"Well then, since we’ve established I don’t know when to shut up, I think I’ll try to change my reputation a bit and prove you wrong."

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

He stood and caught her up in his arms to carry her over to his bed, where they both landed in a heap as he tossed her onto the mattress. She laughed and pulled him closer.

"So what are you doing now."

"Gonna teach you how to have a good long snog."

He had to laugh at the look on her face.

"Um, a what?"

"Let’s see, what’s the American term, ah, yes, make out, I think. Not as economical a phrase, takes time away from the important stuff."

He was worrying her earlobe now and she had to agree. Less talky, more kissy was good in her book.

She was just about to tug his tee-shirt from his jeans so she could explore the chest she’d admired so the day before when the sound of a car turning into the drive startled them both.

He rolled off the bed and peered out the window towards the driveway.

"Pet, I believe your Grands are home."

She was already up, refastening the halter more securely and sliding her sandals back on.

"I’ll go in the back." She stopped and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "See you in the morning, Spike. Best Fourth ever."

And then she was gone, slipping quietly out the door and around the back. He saw the faint movement behind her window screen and then a quick wave that let him know she’d made it, as the Summers continued talking quietly and carrying in the remains of the day’s feast from the car around front.

They were a factor he’d forgotten about for a while, and he still felt that Mrs. Summers in particular wouldn’t appreciate his courting of her little girl, even if he had the best of honorable intentions. Which he didn’t. He’d be willing to bet a good bit that the friends with benefits line wouldn’t hold much water with her. Well, that was a bridge they’d cross when they came to it.

For now, he had the rest of the night to dream of Buffy. And, he adjusted his jeans that had been unbelievably tight for most of the last hour, to take care of more pressing matters.





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