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Chapter 8

They lay on the bank of the stream, watching the stars rolling overhead in the cloudless sky. As the weeks had drifted by since they’d begun their . . . flirtation? . . . romance? . . . she’d noticed they’d both avoided labeling what was between them. And she was okay with that.

"You come down here at night often when you’re here for the summer?"

She nodded. "I’m sort of a night owl, always have been. It used to drive Gram crazy, she’d wake up to find me gone when I was little." Buffy shrugged. "She finally decided since I always came to the same place, I was safe, so I don’t think they even pay attention to me slipping out anymore." She pointed to the flashlight lying by her side. "I just have to always take that with me."

"Probably not a bad idea, that one turn is tricky, what with the roots and whatall." Spike sighed and took her hand in his, sliding their fingers so they slowly interlocked. "Can’t blame you though. I don’t know of many more peaceful spots on Earth. Maybe at my grandfather’s country place." He gestured with their joined hands. "Has a stream just like that running through it, very quiet like."

"Do you go there much?" Buffy asked.

Spike shook his head. "Not often anymore. Mother never liked the country, always wanted to be in London, and so I just went for short visits when I was small."

"That’s a shame."

"Yes, it is. I may have to go out there more when I get home."

His hand tightened on hers involuntarily as he mentioned leaving. It was another on the lists of subjects to avoided. They were in a special place, one that wasn’t quite real, and if they didn’t speak of it, the illusion remained intact.

After a few minutes of silence, Buffy broke the quiet, leaping into the far distant future as an alternative. "So what are you going to do after college?"

He was quiet for a long minute, and she wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t have gone there, shouldn’t have brought up anything outside the here and now that was safely in their comfort zone.

Then he spoke. "I’ll work for Aetherton."

She rolled to her side and looked at him. "Is that what you want to do?"

He rolled to face her as well. "It is. There was a time, a few years back, when I didn’t want to. Wanted to strike out, be something beside what everyone expected."

"Like what?"

He waved a hand lazily in the air. "Don’t rightly know, mostly just teenage rubbish. Writer, poet, well, rock star really." He flashed her a grin she could just make out in the limited moonlight of the waning moon.

"Rock star, huh?"

"Well, the chits do go for that sort of thing. Bet you’ve had a boy band of two on your walls, yeah?"

She giggled. "Maybe. Course I’d believe that more than poet."

He jumped up and gestured about as he ceremoniously declaimed,

"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here we will sit and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony."

She clapped, laughing at his mock seriousness as he bowed. "Okay, now that was good. Did you . . .?"

He chuckled. "No, I can’t take credit for that one, props to the Bard. Hence the not becoming a poet, you see."

"Aw, I’m sure you’d have been good. But seriously, you really want to work with your family?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I do. I went through a rough patch in school, fell in with the wrong crowd as they say, and then Grand took me out, kept me at home a term. I hated him at the time, but it was the best thing that ever happened. I got straightened out, started going to the office with him after I was done with lessons for the day, and it was just like this whole other world for me."

"How so?"

He rolled over so that he was lying beside her, staring down into her face, but his concentration wasn’t on her, she could see in his eyes. He was off in another world as he told her about the way he felt helping create something, the ownership in seeing the grapes form and flourish and then become something even more. When he was done, she couldn’t help touching his face.

"Wow, that’s amazing. I didn’t know you felt that way about it. I guess it really isn’t just a job to you."

He shrugged and turned his head to kiss her palm. "So yeah, there you have it. What about you?"

"I don’t know. Nothing like that, like what you’re going to do. I mean, I don’t really have a dream. I’d like to travel, maybe write for travel magazines or something like that." She laughed. "Or maybe it’s just teenage rubbish."

"Nah, sounds like you have more sense than I did."

He was gazing into her eyes now, and though his face was mostly shadowed as he leaned over her, she could sense the desire there. This was the way it had been the last few nights, the calm beginning, them talking and laughing the way friends do, and then at some point, somehow the currents would shift, and she’d feel the tension growing, the need to touch him, kiss him, be in his arms.

It was exhilarating and a little frightening at the same time, as though she were walking a tightrope without a net. The knot in her stomach, of anticipation and something else was building, making her want to do crazy unpredictable things, bare herself to him completely, go beyond the super intense make out sessions that always stopped, but a little further than the night before. Never quite where she wanted to go, but always short of where she was afraid of arriving.

"Buffy?" His voice was rough, full of want and she felt her pulse jump in response, her whole body grow soft and languid in anticipation of what was to come.

"Yes, Spike?"

"Can I kiss you now?"

She didn’t bother to respond, just met his lips as she sank her fingers in to the soft strands of hair and pulled him down to meet her, their bodies intertwining in the grass as the water continued to rush by, and the crickets kept chirping. But for her, the earth had shrunk down and stopped on its axis to that one tiny place, with him.

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

She eased the door closed behind her, turning to give him a half-wave before she disappeared inside and up the steps, careful to avoid the third one that creaked. Her grandparents seemed fast asleep, judging by the snores, and she slid quietly into her room, shedding her clothes and groping in the darkness for a t-shirt to sleep in.

Her skin still felt electric, tingling from the touch of his hands and lips, and she was too wired to sleep as she made her way to the window and looked down, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. His light was still on, and she could see a shadow behind the shade, moving around as he got ready for bed.

She glanced at the clock. It was after 2:00am. They’d been out later than ever before, and it had been so hard to pull away when he’d finally lifted his head, and whispered they’d best be heading back. She’d agreed, albeit reluctantly.

It was hard to think when she was with him. Hard to do anything but just feel. But afterwards, when she was alone in the dark with time to think, she knew that she’d been mistaken about something. With every day that passed it was becoming downright impossible to pretend he was nothing more than a friend with benefits. Because he was starting to become much more than that.

She touched her fingertips to her lips and then to the screen of the window just as the light below went out. "Sweet dreams, Spike," she whispered, and turned to slide into her own bed.

She opened the door to her nightstand and pulled out the small volume inside. She doubted the ineffectual little lock to the side would keep out anyone determined to read it, but there was a sense of security that her innermost thoughts and feelings were protected from prying eyes.

She flipped the pages, finding the last entry and penciled in the new date. July 20th. And then she stopped.

How did she put this into words, the way she felt? It was something fragile, like a butterfly just climbing out of its chrysalis and slowly stretching its still damp wings, this thing between her and him. It was exhilarating and terrifying and life-altering all at once.

Deep down, she wondered if it was actually love.

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

"It’s done?" Her grandfather glanced at the calendar. "Why we’re more than a full week ahead of schedule."

"It’s finished. I’s dotted and t’s crossed. Proofed it twice myself last night just to make sure. Buffy took a look through as well."

"Excellent. If we can get it in the mail today, I’m declaring the rest of the week a holiday." Her grandfather turned to Buffy. "This is supposed to be your summer vacation, young lady, although I appreciate all your hard work. You’ve made your grandmother and I very proud this summer."

Buffy couldn’t help but beam as her grandfather hugged her. It was about this time last year when they’d had the mammoth fight that had sent her home, causing the rift it had taken nearly a year to heal. To have her Gramps look at her with that twinkle in his eye again was priceless.

"And you, sir." She watched as he turned to Spike. "I intend to call your grandfather tonight and let him know how well you’ve done on this project. You’ll be a real asset to the business, and he’s lucky to have you."

"Thank you, sir. I’ve enjoyed working with you. I’m sure this is going to be a real boon to the vineyards in this area, to have this new hybrid. Should really help with that disease that’s been such a plague."

"One can only hope. We’ll see what Professor Jenners says after he reviews the results, of course. Now William? Why don’t you run this into town, see if you can get it posted today." He handed the boxes to Spike, who headed for the door.

"Oh, Gramps, can I go too, maybe pick up some things at the drugstore? Oh, or maybe we could go see a movie." She mock pouted. "After all, I have been slaving away."

Her grandfather laughed. "Well there’s a sales pitch I can’t resist. Certainly, you may, if Spike doesn’t mind. I’ll tell your grandmother." He reached in his pocket and handed her some folded bills with a wink.

"Do you mind?" Buffy turned to Spike, who was ginning benevolently.

"Of course not. Come on, Buffy."

The sun was shining, the grass was green, the birds were chirping, and all was right in her world as she slid over to sit closer to Spike as he drove. He threw his arm over the back of the seat and turned a lazy grin in her direction.

She giggled and gave him a quick kiss. It didn’t get much better than this.

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

"Done and done. It’s all up to the good people of Fed Ex now." He opened the door to the Desoto and slid in beside her, giving her a quick wink. "I do believe you and I have some free time now, shortcake. What do you want to do? You want to go to that movie? Or want me to take you shopping?"

Her eyes lit up. "Shopping, ohhhh. And I have cash!" Her face fell as he could see her mentally ticking off possibilities. "There’s not anywhere good to shop in SunnyD though, except that little old ladies boutique at the end of Main. Let’s do the movie thing instead." She bounced excitedly on the seat.

He regarded her with amusement. "As the lady wishes."

He navigated the short trip to the Sun, Sunnydale’s oldest and only movie establishment and parked in the empty expanse of asphalt that adjoined.

"What you up for? Action? Adventure? Romance?"

She grinned. "I’m fond of romance myself."

Minutes later, they were back in the car.

"Who doesn’t have matinees? I mean, really," Buffy huffed as she fastened her seatbelt.

"Pet, they’re closed for an extermination. It’s not a conspiracy."

She arched a brow. "Are you mocking me? I was promised a movie. We were going to have a date."

"A date? Oh-ho, is that what this was?"

She crossed her arms. "Fine, make fun of me."

"Aw, now, shortcake, don’t be that way. How ‘bout I make it up to you?"

She perked up. "Really? How?"

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. "Let’s see. First, I’d like to start from the top, do things properly."

She regarded him expectantly.

"Buffy, would you like to go out with me?"

Her face bloomed with a smile. "Absolutely."

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

"Shortcake, you will never cease to amaze me with how much food you can put away." Spike shook his head as she slurped the last of her milkshake.

"You calling me fat?" She arched a brow.

"Nope, just saying. That’s one crazy metabolism you’ve got going on."

She just smirked as she dipped another fry in ketchup. "So what’s next?"

"Well, I thought we’d go for something new. Something novel. Something earth-shattering."

She chocked slightly on the fry as a mental image of something earth-shattering they could do together flashed through her brain. She grabbed her drink and quickly washed it down.

"I thought we could put Buffy Summers behind the wheel of a car. I never did give you that driving lesson, did I?"

She sat down her drink. Not nearly as exciting as what she‘d been imagining. But dangerous none the less.

Buffy shook her head. "Nope. And you promised, too," she pouted at him.

"Oh look at that lip, gonna get it."

"Spike!" She squealed in protest as he leaned across the table, but let him capture her lips anyway.

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

"So this is the best place?"

Buffy nodded. "Big level field. Nothing to hit. Buffy can’t kill anyone."

"All right then." Spike put the car in park. They were several miles out of town now, and with the radio silenced, the world around them was quiet. "You ready to start?"

Buffy shrugged. "Ready as ever. Thought you promised me a fun date?"

"Now, pet, stop looking like you’re about to face the executioner. It won’t be that bad." He laughed at her continued dire expression.

"You just wait until I get behind the wheel. You won’t be so perky then, cupcake."

He laughed and crossed to the other side of the car as she slid behind the wheel and adjusted the seat.

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

The engine died as Buffy failed to find first for the fifteenth time. She banged her head against the steering wheel punctuating her words. "I will never be a driver."

"Well, I think we’re going to have to take this to the next level."

She peered at him with one eye. "There’s another level."

"Yup. Personalized driving instruction with yours truly."

"I thought that’s what I was getting already," she grumbled.

"Hence the next level. Slide the seat back."

She complied and he slid across and hoisted her up into his lap. "Alright, princess, let’s try again. Put your left foot on mine, ‘kay."

She positioned herself atop his lap and placed her hand over his on the gearshift.

"Alright, shortcake, get ready to go for a ride."

It took a few more attempts of feeling the slight change in pressure that signaled the elusive thing he kept referring to as the friction point, but she closed her eyes and followed his lead and suddenly, it was there.

"I felt it, I think I‘ve got it. Let me try."

He moved his feet out of the way and she made the next shift successfully.

"I did it, Spike, I did it!"

He took control again and brought the car to a quick stop as she did a happy dance of joy in his lap.

"I did it, Spike!" She turned and wound her arms around his neck in a celebratory hug that evolved into a kiss that drove all thoughts of motoring from her brain.

It wasn’t enough. She navigated the obstacles of gearshifts and steering wheels, searching for more contact that he willing gave, embracing her curves as he pulled her back in for another mind-blowing kiss. She finally pulled away with a gasp. He pressed his forehead to hers as they both drew in ragged breaths.

"That was . . ." She trailed off with a shiver as he traced the vein in her neck with his tongue to the tattoo of her pounding pulse.

He raised his head and met her eyes and the passion there burned like a white-hot flame. "Yeah, it was. Buffy?"

"Uh-huh?"

"You want to move to the backseat?"





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