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~*~

“Oh my God, Willow, I so do not look sexy! I look like—like Tinkerbell!”

“Tinkerbell wore green,” her friend pointed out sensibly.

“Well, okay, Tinkerbell in a vat off...ketchup,” Buffy said, before renewing her freaking out. “The point is, I look completely stupid!”

Willow studied her friend carefully. Short red dress, cut raggedly at the hem. Hair teased into gentle curls. Red, red lipstick and fingernails.

“Um, Buffy? If it didn’t sound really gay, I’d say you look hot.”

“I so do not!” Buffy insisted, before turning back to the mirror and staring in it, head cocked. “Do I?”

“Look at it this way, Buffy. If tonight when Spike sees you—if his eyeballs go ker-plunk when he picks you up—then you’ll know he thinks you’re hot!”:

“But...what if his eyeballs don’t go ker-plunk?” she whined. “What if they go mush, or they burn up because I look so dumb? Oh no, what if he starts laughing!” Buffy went into panic mode. “He’ll laugh and probably look all sexy doing it but I won’t be able to jump him because there’s no ker-plunky eyes so he doesn’t think I’m hot!!!!”

“Okay, you guys are acting, like, really dumb.”

Buffy made a face at her sister. “Who asked you?”

Dawn shrugged and came into Buffy’s room, plopping herself down on the bed next to Willow. “You shouldn’t be worried,” the thirteen-year-old informed her older sister. “Spike’s completely in love with you.”

“What?! He is not!” Buffy practically yelled. Just the thought freaked her out in a big way. It had only been almost three weeks since Giles had made them do the project. Granted, it felt like practically forever—but the fact was that every time she was around him she was horny and he was horny too. Thinking about love and all that stuff would only make everything more complicated.

“He so does,” Dawn shot back. “After Dad was such a bastard to you? He was hanging outside the house, and when I talked to him, he was all, ‘I gotta go find my girl’.” Dawn arched an eyebrow at Buffy. “I mean, duh!”

“Wait—I’m confused,” Willow said, frowning. “I thought Dawn was the evil bratty little—“

“Things are starting to change,” Buffy cut in hastily. “Dawn—he really said that?”

Dawn nodded. Strangely enough, she didn’t bother confronting Willow about what the older girl had said. “Yeah. He was all with the being protective and stuff.”

“Aww, Buffy, that’s so sweet!” Willow exclaimed, a huge smile on her face.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said, trying hard to hide the fact that inside, she was jumping and squealing.

She adjusted the small red dress again, peering at herself intently in the mirror. Things had been getting better with her mother; Joyce had agreed to find some errand that would get Hank out of the house long enough for Spike to pick Buffy up. Which was good, because although Buffy had no idea what her boyfriend would be going as, she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be in the realm of normal, and if Hank saw her dress he’d totally flip.

She was about to ask Willow if she looked okay again when she heard the doorbell ring. Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, Wills!””

She heard the door open and close; her mother voice floated up the stairs, followed by a low British rumble that she knew was Spike’s. Someone laughed, and then Joyce called up the stairs, “Buffy! Willow! Your dates are here!”

Buffy gulped, hard. “You know what, guys? This was a bad idea. Bad, bad idea,” she repeated, bounding over to the closet and rifling through it for something a little less sexy. “Willow, why did I let you talk me into this?!”

“Um, I seem to remember you talking me into wearing this!” Willow squeaked, motioning to her skimpy ghost outfit. “Don’t you have a blanket in there or something?”

“Okay. You’re not wearing blankets, or shawls, and Buffy if you put that stupid cloak thing on I will so kick your ass!” Dawn exclaimed. She grabbed first Willow’s, then Buffy’s arm, and dragged them over to the door. “Now, get your asses out there and go greet your boyfriends!”

I so officially hate Dawn now...for real, Buffy amended as she edged toward the steps. Spike wouldn’t like it—he wouldn’t remember what he’d told her—and she’d look like a complete idiot at the dance!

All thoughts of looking like bad vanished when she came halfway down the stairs and saw him.

She was pretty sure that Oz and Willow were doing the whole mushy greeting thing, but her eyes were glued to Spike—and, more specifically, what he was wearing.

He’d gone completely punk rock. He was wearing faded jeans, fastened with a black belt. Gone was the duster and neat, slicked-back hair—he wore a torn vest with safety pins randomly stuck through it, and his hair was whiter than usual and sticking straight up. He even had eyeliner on.

On any other high school guy, it would have looked ridiculous. But on him...

Oh, crap. I really shouldn’t have worn a thong. It was soaked through.

She wasn’t sure how long she stared at him, occasionally licking her lips, only faintly conscious that he was staring at her, too. She came to her sense when her mother cleared her throat.

“So, um...” She looked him up and down, trying not to salivate again. “What are you going to sign in as, Billy Idol?” Because there was a costume contest, they all had to sign in at the door.

“And what’ll you be goin’ as?” Spike shot back, looking her up and down. “Tink after Charles Manson got to her?”

“I asked first.” Buffy pouted at him.

He smiled slowly. “Well, I was gonna put in “The Sexiest Bloke At The Whole Soddin’ Dance, but yeah, Billy Idol’ll do.” He raked his eyes up and down her body again. “Your turn, Tink.”

She took a deep breath and walked down the stairs until she was looking him in the eye. “Remember when we had that talk outside school and you told me I looked like a pixie?” she asked, quietly enough that her mother wouldn’t hear.

He grinned at her. “Be damned hard to forget that, luv.”

“Well...” she motioned to herself. “Pixie. Dressed in red, cuz it’s your favorite color.”

His mouth went open a bit, and then a look came into his eyes that Buffy had only seen there when they kissed. Before she even had a chance to gulp, he grabbed her and kissed her—right in front of her mom, Willow, and Oz.

Despite the embarrassment factor, she returned the kiss eagerly, her tongue wrestling with his, her fingers buried in his hair. God, he was so hot—and this time she wasn’t talking about how he looked. His mouth, his hands, his entire body was burning into her. She could feel his hard-on press into her belly—well, either that or it was the zipper on his jeans, but she really didn’t think zippers were that big, and it wasn’t like it was a foreign feeling or anything...

Her mother’s voice cut through her half-lucid thoughts. “Buffy? Buffy, honey, I thought you were going to a dance!”

“Huh?” Buffy pouted when Spike’s lips went away from hers. She noticed everyone staring at them and blushed. “I mean...yeah...dance. Let’s go!” And then before Joyce had a chance to reprimand them, she grabbed Spike’s hand and dragged him out the door.

Once they were freely outside, Spike smirked at her. “Naughty girl, snogging your boyfriend and then runnin’ scared.”

“Hey! I wasn’t the only one who was snogging, mister,” she said, poking his chest. “Besides, how am I supposed to not snog you when you’re standing there all sexy in those clothes?”

His smirked grew. “So now ‘m sexy?”

“Oh, please. I’ve told you that like a million times bef—hey!” she protested as he grabbed her, lifting her feet off the pavement of the driveway in process.

All protests died when he proceeded to “snog” her right in front of the car.

She was just starting to really get into it when someone tapped their shoulders. They broke the kiss to see Oz standing there, completely expressionless as usual. “Dance?” he reminded them.

Buffy looked over at the DeSoto; Willow was already sitting in the backseat. “Right. Dance. The dance...that we have to go to, because we paid for tickets and not showing up would be very bad and—why don’t we just get in the car?”

Spike and Oz were both staring at her, Spike with an out-and-out incredulous look on his face, and Oz with one eyebrow raised—which for him was like staring at someone openmouthed.

Buffy gave them both what she hoped wasn’t a very insane looking smile. “Sorry,” she apologized, before running for the car and practically diving in.

She slammed the door and slumped against the window. “I am such an idiot,” she muttered, watched Spike and Oz. Oz said something and Spike laughed—Buffy would’ve bet any amount of money it was about her.

“I dunno, I thought it was kinda funny.” Willow grinned at her mischievously from the backseat. “You got all flustered and silly and stuff.”

Buffy made a face at her friend. “You’re one to talk. Oooh, Oz,” she put on a high voice, “You dressed up as a werewolf, that’s so sexy—hey!” They burst into laughter as Buffy glared at her friend indignantly, rubbing her head where the soft slipper from Willow’s foot had hit her.

Their laughter died down—Spike and Oz were still talking. “So...” Willow said finally, “Are you as nervous as I am?”

Buffy frowned. “’bout what?”

“I think Oz. wants to—you know,” Willow said. “And I mean, it makes sense, since we’ve been going out for, for almost four years, but at the same time I’m just really nervous about it all. Are you?”

For a second she had no idea what Willow was talking about. Really nervous about—ooh! She wrinkled her nose. Ew! Willow and Oz doing the nasty! Wait, Willow said they hadn’t yet. And—she think Spike’ll want to? Her mind flashed back to the erection he’d been sporting in her foyer. Okay, so he wanted to—and she did, too. The only problem was...”I’ve only been going out with him for a few weeks!”

“So?” was her friend’s response. “Faith says you guys have had big-time, um, sexual tension for kinda forever.”

“Well, yeah, but that so doesn’t mean I’d be willing to just—“

“Hey, guys.” Oz opened the back door and slid in next to Willow.

“Gettin’ lonely without me?” Spike asked, getting into the front seat and tweaking Buffy’s nose.

A nose that she immediately wrinkled at him. “You wish,” she shot back. “Me and Willow were having the funnest time ever. Weren’t we, Wills?”

Willow giggled. “Well, if funnest was a word, then yep, that would be us.”

“Hey! Funnest is so a word!”

“Think Red’s got a bigger vocab then you,” Spike taunted with a grin. “Makes sense that she’d know what’s a word and what’s not.”

She scowled at him. “Hello, girlfriend here! You’re supposed to back me up!”

“Sorry,” he said with an unapologetic grin.

“Besides,” Buffy continued, ignoring his apology, “Funnest is so a word. It’s in the Scrabble dictionary.”

“Does that count?” Oz wondered.

“Yuh-huh.” Buffy beamed in triumph. “If it’s in the dictionary it’s a word, right?”

“I didn’t know you played Scrabble,” Spike said, eyes narrowed and twinkling.

“Oh, no, mister, I am so never playing you,” she told him. “You’d kick my butt with all the weird British words.”

“And you’d use California bint words, so we’d be even,” he replied.

“Aha!” she shrieked, bouncing up and down. “See? You just used one! In America, bint isn’t a word!”

He just gave her a look. Of the long, slow, he wanted to kiss the hell out of her variety.

And just like that, her reservations about the—well, the making of the two-backed beast—went flying out the window. Because when Spike looked at her like that, she just wanted to jump him.

“Guys? Halloween dance?” Willow reminded them.

They yanked their eyes away from each other. “Uh, right,” Spike said. He jammed the key in the ignition and started the car. As he was backing out of the driveway, Buffy caught his eye and licked her lips flirtatiously.

He ran into the ditch.

Grumbling under his breath, he de-ditched the car and brought it out onto the road. Buffy patted his hand consolingly; in the backseat she could hear Willow stifling a giggle. Even Oz looked amused.

Something told her this was going to be a long, long night.

~*~

A/N: Sorry, it's a day late. I couldn't be prompt even if my life depended on it =D Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the wonderful reviews!!!!! You guys are the absolute best EVER!





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