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Chapter Two

RAF Langdon Airbase, June 1940

"She's coming over mate."

"Oh bugger. Look, tell her I had to visit a sick relative or something."

The improbably blond airman rose from his chair and reached for his jacket. He'd only got one arm in it before the other blonde arrived at his table, effectively blocking his escape. He looked around for a fire exit or another door. Anything rather than face the wrath of Buffy Summers, who was now standing in front of him, arms folded, foot tapping and with a face that told him she wasn't going to let him go until she'd had her say.

And that was it. The moment he fell in love with her. Of course he didn't know it at the time, that's what hindsight's for. All he remembered initially about the meeting was the telling off she'd given him. How the hell was he supposed to remember he'd gone storming into the ladies' toilets and demanded that she give him her knickers? He'd passed out, dead drunk five minutes later. And the knickers in question had mysteriously disappeared. In fact they were quite probably now gracing the backside of some floozy that one of his mates had picked up that night.

She didn't back down though. He had to admire her for that, given the reputation he had as crazy guy extraordinaire. You had to be in this game. In fact the crazier, the better. It gave you an edge, a spark of brilliance that set you apart from the rest. It kept you alive but it could just as easily get you killed. It was a fine line that he walked these days.

Spike's plane was always the first up, even when it wasn't supposed to be, and always the last back. Then, of course everyone could be witnesses to the stupidly low barrel roll that was his trademark. He liked people to know he was around, did Spike. Liked to show off. Didn't want to die and not leave anything behind. Because they were all going to die, that's where he came from every day.

Today could be your last day on earth mate. Make the most of it. Make your mark, or no one's going to remember you. No-one's going to remember stammering, tongue-tied, William with his stupid curly brown hair and clothes that looked as if his dad had bought them for him.

But, everyone's going to remember dashing airman Spike, with his snarky backchat and who- could- care less attitude. And the hair that nearly made his squadron leader have a whole litter of kittens when he'd first bleached it. And his newly found predisposition for running into ladies' toilets and demanding knickers. The list just went on and on. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do. Wasn't a dare he wouldn't undertake. He had nothing to lose because soon he was going to be dead. So, in the light of that he wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, except, strangely this small blonde woman who now had him virtually pinned against the wall by the sheer force of her outrage alone.

And if he didn't get his ass to the nearest lingerie shop pretty pronto, then it wasn't the enemy that was going to kill him, because she was going to do it for them.

He heard his drinking companion snigger as she turned to go, at last, having described in horrible detail just what was going to happen to him if he didn't get said underwear to her by that evening. And strangely enough Spike managed to stifle the impulse to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out, probably to the jeers and cheers of all his mates, and show her just who was boss.

Instead he found himself meekly touching his cap as she retreated, and wondering what size she was. And later that evening he was even more surprised to find himself standing on the doorstep of the nurses' quarters, politely asking a rather fierce looking matron if Buffy was available. Not that his visits to the nurses quarters was anything unusual, just the method of entry he was using at this time. Drainpipes were more his style, but he somehow didn't think that Buffy Summers would appreciate him suddenly appearing at her window bearing a pair of very lacy, bright red French Knickers.

He had no idea why they were French, but the colour would match her eyes if he remembered anything about their earlier encounter. She'd been blazing alright, but she didn't have him that whipped. He wanted to see her face when she opened the parcel, and he wasn't leaving until she did. The thought had crossed his mind that perhaps she'd model them for him. Hell, most of the girls he knew would be glad to, he didn't have any problems in that area at all. And they'd cost him an arm and a leg, so she owed him something for that. But he somehow didn't think so. Still, he was going to ask, probably. She may have left him somewhat stunned that afternoon, but he was fast recovering.

Buffy Summers had thrown down a challenge. He wasn't the type to back down and neither, he suspected, was she. She'd won the first battle, but he was going to win the bloody war. And he was going to see her in these before the night was out. If it was the last thing he did.

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"Oh, Buffy, he's so cute. Are you really not going down?"

Buffy leaned over the banister rail and looked, with some satisfaction at Flight lieutenant Spike Giles, who despite using every charm offensive in the book, still hadn't managed to wheedle himself past matron. And she wasn't going down. No way. Cute or no cute he deserved a little discomfort after what he'd done to her. Not only had she waited in the toilets for over an hour for him to come back, but then she'd had to walk back to the base on one of the windiest nights of the year because, by then, she'd missed the last bus. Serves her right really for being just drunk enough that handing her underwear over to a perfect stranger had seemed a perfectly reasonable thing to do at the time.

"Nope. Let him stew, the rat. Too cocky by half that one."

Gonna get him killed. But he'll go out in a blaze of glory. He's not going quietly into the night, not him.

That thought almost made her relent. They were all living on the edge these days. All of them doing crazy things. And the future, which used to be something that happened without you having to think about it, was becoming an elusive thing. Something you'd always taken for granted, but was now a precious commodity. Something that some people didn't have any more. That the man standing downstairs giving matron the puppy dog eyes might not have.

She stood, and stretched out her arms, stifling a yawn as she contemplated a relaxing evening drinking cocoa and reading that rather racy novel she'd managed to get her hands on. Twelve hour shifts were a bitch, and they didn't exactly put you in a good mood. She took one last glance at the now-desperate Spike and turned for her room. Did he even realise how difficult it was to walk knickerless in a bloody gale force wind?

No, let him stew, he'd survive. Or not. It wasn't her call anyway and she had nothing to feel bad about. She wasn't responsible for this mess of a war. Just someone who was trying to help.

"Does that mean I can have him?" Her friend winked at her and took one last look downstairs.

"Yeah." Buffy started on the buttons of her nurse's uniform. "Take him, he's all yours."

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She wasn't going to relent.

He'd tried every trick in the book and still matron stood before him like the proverbial Valkyrie, arms folded and just daring him to get past her. He'd thought there wasn't anything he couldn't or wouldn't do, but he was beginning to learn a few things about himself since he'd had the misfortune to run into Buffy Summers.

Women. It was simple, right? They either loved you or they didn't. Sometimes they said yes, sometimes they said no. You either lucked out, or you walked away. Like buses there's be another one along in a little while.

Since he'd turned into Spike he hadn't had so many of the no's, and it really hadn't bothered him. Until now. Why the hell didn't he just hand the parcel over to the dragon and have done with it? Then he could walk out of Buffy Summer's life and, with a bit of luck, never run into her again.

Because he wasn't thinking with his brain right now. He was thinking with his trousers, and that image of her wearing the French knickers, just wouldn't bloody leave him alone. Suddenly, the most important thing in the world was not to die before he'd seen her in them. He sighed dramatically as matron resolutely closed the door and then he squinted up at the building. It was going to have to be the drainpipe after all. Now, which room was hers?

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It had been a heck of a day. Even in the middle of a war, when you'd thought you'd seen everything there was to see there always seemed to be something else waiting for you. To test your reserves. To see what stuff you were made of. Buffy undid the remaining buttons of her uniform and slipped it off. Throwing it down, she flopped back on her bed and let out a long breath. One of the young airmen had upped and died on them just like that. He'd been getting better, had started talking about going home and then he was gone, quietly in his sleep. Never had made a fuss that one. Just gave up for no reason, some reason, who knew? And there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.

She covered her eyes with her arm and tried not to think about it too much. Yes, it affected her, but you had to maintain some degree of detachment or you couldn't do your job. Especially during a war. And everybody needed to do their job right now.

And then there was Liam. He'd asked her out again and she was starting to think very seriously about saying yes. So, he was a little older than her, but mature men were good, right? And you could do worse than a consultant surgeon; any nurse would tell you that. Her friends looked on enviously and couldn't believe that she even had to think about it, and her father would approve. Oh yes, Squadron Leader Hank Summers, who really hadn't wanted to bring her to England with him, would approve of her marrying a surgeon. Fitted right in with his image of what he'd always wanted for her.

It was giving her a headache just thinking about it. Her roommate was away for a long weekend and she was thankful for that. Anya never stopped talking, and she'd made it more than plain that she'd have Liam if Buffy didn't want him. Dropped incessant hints, despite the fact that Buffy had told her more than once that she was welcome to him, and that he wasn't actually her boyfriend anyway.

So Buffy hauled herself from the bed and slipped into a robe. She picked up her spongebag and made her way to the bathroom. Bath, then cocoa, then novel and bed. And nothing else. She wasn't going to think about young airmen who lay hopeless in their hospital beds, she wasn't going to think about Liam and his offer of a date at the opera, and she wasn't going to think about cheeky young fighter pilots who thought the height of amusement was stealing your knickers.

She reached the bathroom just as the door was closing and the bolt firmly thrown across. "Damn." She closed her eyes in frustration wondering if she had the energy to walk upstairs to the bathroom on the second floor, and then she decided she didn't. Exhaustion was overtaking her and if she didn't get into bed soon she was going to fall asleep right there on the corridor. She walked along to the small kitchenette that served her floor and made herself a hot drink, and then she went back to her room stirring the cocoa as she went.

Spike had looked so funny standing there trying to get round matron. No, funny wasn't the word. Surprised? He'd looked like someone who was used to having women fall at his feet and had suddenly come up against one he couldn't charm and it had confused the hell out of him.

"Ha," she gave a little chuckle as she let herself back into her room, they didn't call matron the dragon for nothing. She'd earned that nickname with honours. Not that she had a clue what went on behind her back of course. It was inevitable really, given the combination of young nurses and airmen. They were all screwing like there was no tomorrow, which for some was a grim reality. She'd been on a few casual dates but had tried to steer clear of any involvement, given that she was going back to the States after the war. That was until Liam had come onto the scene. His soulful gaze and quiet persistence were working on her in subtle ways. It wouldn't be a one night stand with him, she already knew that. And all she had to do was say yes. And maybe she would, but not tonight.

She slipped the robe from her shoulders, letting it drop as she lay back onto the bed and reached for her book. John and Amanda were about to do the dirty deed somewhere in a hot, steamy jungle and a little escapism was just what she needed right now... She plumped up her pillow, found her page and reached for her drink.

Then she froze.

Someone was in the room. She looked around, no, not in the room there wasn't exactly anywhere to hide, but she could hear someone moving. She went very still and listened and there it was again, a scuffling noise and a muffled curse. Then a slight breeze caused the curtains to ripple and focused her attention on the window.

Bloody hell, someone was climbing in through her window. For a moment she stayed very still, then she jumped form the bed and grabbed her robe.

"Boy have you got the wrong room, buster," she muttered as she picked up a medical textbook. These airmen thought they could do what they bloody liked and he probably had just got the wrong room, but she wasn't in the mood for this tonight. All she wanted to do was read her novel, drink her cocoa, then go to sleep. It wasn't too much to ask, was it? She made her way determinedly to the window and stood beside it as the shape struggled with the flapping curtains. Whoever it was wasn't going to forget Buffy Summers in a hurry.

She didn't hit him very hard. She was a nurse and she really didn't want to hurt whoever it was. Only wanted to make her point, but it was enough to floor him. He went down with a surprised grunt, hit the floor and just lay there, unmoving.

Buffy folded her arms. "Okay, you can get up now."

No response.

"I said you can get up, quit fooling around."

Still no response. The nurse in her was struggling with the outraged woman at this point and of course the nurse won. She dropped to her knees beside the prostrated figured and reached across to pull him over. He was just coming to, giving a slight groan as he flopped onto his back, and then she was looking into the very blue and rather dazed eyes of airman Spike Giles. He stared at her for a moment, gave her a lopsided grin then fell back, his eyes closing once more.

She sat back on her heels, hardly able to believe what she was seeing, or what she'd done. She also had no idea how you could feel incredibly annoyed and really sorry for someone at the same time. But it was him, yet again. He seemed so very determined to force his way into her life, yet every time they came in contact with each other they seemed destined to come to blows. She'd wanted to hit him in the canteen, especially when he'd had the nerve to smirk at her when she was making a perfectly valid point about him returning her underwear. And now he was here, lying on her bedroom floor, probably with a concussion, and all she managed to feel was tremendously guilty.

This was one determined guy. She should have gone down after all, taken the parcel off him and that would have been that. End of story; never have to see Spike Giles again. But no. She'd had to give him a reason to pull a stupid stunt like this. God, she could have pushed him out of the window and killed him, the stupid jerk.

"You're a stupid jerk, you know that?" She told his still figure as she worked out what to do next. "And I didn't hit you that hard."

She pulled herself up and went over to the basin in the corner of the room. A cold compress was what he needed. She ought to do something for him, being a nurse and all, but it was more than he deserved, the idiot. As she dropped to her knees beside him once more and felt gently for the bump on his head, she thought that perhaps she would say yes to Liam. It was about time she got herself a regular boyfriend. Someone steady and not crazy. Someone who would never contemplate climbing in through girls-he-hardly-knew's bedroom windows to deliver parcels of underwear. There was enough craziness around her without adding to it by having anything to do with Spike Giles.

Thought he could charm the birds off the trees? Well, not this one. And how the hell was she going to get him out of the front door, past the dragon? She always had her door open at this time of night for that very reason. He didn't look in any fit state to climb back down the drainpipe.

She twisted him round and pulled his head into her lap as she waited for him to come to. He was taking rather a long time over it, which was typical of him. Probably made a drama out of everything - even being knocked out. Well, concussion or no concussion, when he woke up he was going to get another very large piece of her mind, and then she was going to have to work out how to get him out in one piece, because this was nothing compared to what would happen to the both of them if matron found out he was here.

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He'd been right when he'd thought she wouldn't appreciate it, but as usual, he hadn't stopped to think his cunning plan through. Climb in the window, give her the parcel then somehow convince her to try them on.

Simple, yes?

Wrong.

What the hell was it with this woman that she couldn't be within ten feet of him without either threatening or trying to kill him?

But mmm, this was nice. He nearly gave the game away there and then as he struggled to stop his trademark smirk from breaking out all over his face. She really thought she'd knocked him out? Insulting really, surely he looked tougher than that? Okay, so the blow had hurt some, but it had definitely been worth it because now he was not only lying in her lap enjoying a wonderful view of her breasts where they spilled over the lacy cups of her bra as the robe gaped open, but he had her completely at his mercy because she had to be feeling guilty about this, right? He was going to milk this one for all it was worth, and he was definitely developing a thing for American underwear.

He gave a little moan to signal that he was about to wake up, and fluttered his eyes open. She looked so concerned that he almost felt sorry that he was deceiving her, but what was the saying? All's fair in love and war. Well, they had the war but he wasn't about to fall in love with anyone. Focus on the mission - getting her into the underwear - he told himself sternly, giving another groan for effect. God, she was pretty though, and she had a body to die for, as the now completely open robe was showing him. One that was going to look great in these red lacy things he'd bought her.

Time to move mate, getting a bit carried away here.

Her arms went around his shoulder and he let her help him up, breathing in her delicious perfume as he rested his head on her chest. She pulled her robe closed, self consciously as she helped him to sit up, and then just stared at him.

He stared back into her beautiful, green eyes. Yes this was very nice. Definitely worth being hit over the head for.



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