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Author's Chapter Notes:
How did she get into that dress so easily? Obviously she’d been practising. I wondered why. Oh, and this isn’t Cordelia’s dress shop.
Never Ever Tell by Lilachigh


Meeting No.6 Zipide - do - dah.



Buffy held the dress up over her breasts with one hand and struggled to pull up the zip with the other.

The changing-room was too cramped, there was no wiggle room.

“Willow!” she hissed through the closed curtains. “Willow! Come and zip me up. Quick!’

Goodness knows where her friend was. The trouble was that Willow could wander off at the drop of a hat, just when she was most needed.

Buffy stared down at the slim skirt with the kick pleat at the back. She loved this dress. Even if she never got to go to the Prom, she still loved this dress. She smoothed the material with a loving hand, then sighed with relief as she felt the zip being eased up her back.

“Thank goodness. Where on earth have you - ”

She stopped in mid sentence. She’d looked up to talk to Willow in the mirror - and there was no one there! But she could definitely feel fingers on the warm flesh of her back.

Spinning round she grabbed at the top of the dress and hauled it up as high as it would go. “Spike! What the hell are you doing. Get out! How dare you. Any second and you’ll be dust, vampire.”

“It’s pink,” he said cheerfully, ignoring her hissed exclamation. “Pink and girly, Slayer. Very - well - very pink.”

“It’s not pink, it’s champagne, if you must know,” Buffy said angrily. “And what the hell am I doing talking about clothes to you? Go away, Spike. I won’t tell you again.”

He pulled a hurt face. “Slayer, I’m distraught. Here was I thinking I was coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress. Is it supposed to slip off your tits like that, by the way?”

“What!” Buffy squeaked and pulled the bodice up. How embarrassing. How much had he seen? She felt her face going red. God, if only she could let go of the bodice and reach for her stake, she’d get rid of this bleached idiot once and for all.

“Spike, this is a dress shop. You can’t be in here. And what are you doing in Sunnydale, anyway. You should be in Mexico.”

He sat on the little gilt chair in the corner of the cubicle and grinned at her. “Passing through, Slayer. On my way from A to B. Thought I’d look up my grandsire and see if there’s any action going at this Ascension thing that’s coming up. Sounds like a bloody good fight to me. I could do with a good scrap.”

Buffy looked at him in despair. The last thing she wanted was Spike in the mix when she and Angel were trying to work out their problems.

“Anyway,” he stretched and she turned away so as not to watch the muscles rippling under his black T-shirt. For some reason it made her feel uncomfortable. “Peaches was busy when I called round. He had a visitor - ”

He threw her a look under black lashes that were far too long for a man. But Buffy wasn’t listening. All she wanted was for him not to be there.

“Spike. Go. Now. To Mexico. Or wherever you usually slink off to when you get out of Sunnydale.”

Spike stood up and pushed his way out of the cubicle. He’d been going to tell her that he’d watched her mother going into Angel’s mansion. He’d been going to tell her what he’d overheard them talking about. He’d thought she’d be interested to know that her mother thought Angel should end their relationship.

But, sod it, if she was going to be all pompous and Slayerish, especially after he’d helped her to get dressed, he wouldn’t bother. Let them made their little plans without the Slayer knowing.

He checked that the coast was clear, then stuck his head back inside the cubicle. As he’d thought, the dress was now down around her waist and both her breasts were bare to his gaze.

He grinned wickedly at her nipples. “They look pink to me, too, Slayer! But I bet they taste of champagne!”

Next meeting very soon.





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