*** I wasn't gonna update so soon, but you guys gave me such nice reviews... Flattery will get you everywhere, people. ;p ***


Chapter Eight ~ Addicted to Love

“You can’t eat. You can’t sleep.
There’s no doubt – you’re in deep.
Your heart beats, your teeth grind –
Another kiss and you’ll be mine…
Oh, you like to think that you’re
immune to the stuff.
But it’s closer to the truth
to say you can’t get enough.
You might as well face it
you’re addicted to love…”

~ Robert Palmer


Buffy dawdled on her way to the Magic Box. It wasn’t intentional; she just couldn’t seem to clear her mind of thoughts of Spike. All day she'd been haunted by that damn dream. Doing the most ordinary things it would hit her, a vivid flashback of their night together. The kisses, the caresses, the tingling touches. Dressing, brushing her teeth – every little daily activity had been saturated with Spike-ness. It was a good thing she’d taken a shower last night, ‘cause Lord knows what that would lead to.

*Very wrong naughty thoughts, that’s what!*

And that was definitely bad. And wrong. Not to mention dirty.

*And fun.*

Bad Buffy Brain whispered.

“No, not fun! Really… I mean it…”

She protested weakly, while people walking by stared curiously at the girl talking to herself. Buffy caught their looks and blushed furiously, turning away.

*Gah! Spike is making me crazy!*

Okay, so he always made her crazy, but this was up to a whole new level of crazy. He was invading her dreams, making her feel all confused.

*(Not to mention tingly)*

Bad Buffy Brain piped up. Okay, fine tingly too – but in a very bad, very wrong way.

*Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it. You LIKE thinking about him that way.*

“ I do not!”

She protested hotly, eliciting more nervous stares from the elderly couple passing her on the sidewalk.

Uh oh, better quit that before they decide to call out the men in white coats. She clamped her mouth shut and walked with purpose to the Scooby meeting, determined to put all thoughts of Spike to rest. Permanently, if possible. It was a gorgeous day – why not concentrate on that?

* Yes, great let’s just do that.*

Buffy plastered a perky little smile on her face (ala years of cheerleading practice) and focused on the beauty of the day around her. The fresh green grass, the autumn trees with their leaves just starting to turn, the sun shining brightly in the deep blue sky… She sighed and admired the dazzling azure expanse above her, dotted with sweet little bunny-fluff clouds, and her smile turned genuine. Taking a deep breath she allowed herself to relax and simply enjoy the day. Sunnydale was a pretty little town – if she didn’t know better she’d think it was downright idyllic. But there was something about that sky that bothered her. Somehow it kept drawing her eye. What was it that it reminded her of? She tried to ignore it, and strolled leisurely towards her destination. She hummed along to the song that had been buzzing around in the corners of her brain all day.

“ Baabyyy, I think I love you…but what am I so afraid of…hmmm, hmmm, hmmm…”

What was that song, and why was it in her head anyway? She shrugged and kept up her tuneless singing, closing her eyes and tilting her face towards the sun, enjoying its warmth.
She opened them with her face to the sky and caught her breath. Spike. That’s what it reminded her of. The sky was the exact color of his eyes last night in her dream…

*When he said he loved me.*

Buffy froze, stunned. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was shallow and rapid. She brought her head back down, trying to draw a fresh lungful of air.

“Calm down it was just a dream, Buffy. No need to panic.”

She told herself quietly. He shouldn’t affect her this way! And why did he? Why did she let him? It was just a dream. A stupid dream and it didn’t mean anything. No sublimated desires, no representations, no Freudian slips

*No thank you, I don’t wear one.*

Her mind supplied nonsensically. Just a straightforward, ridiculous, run-of-the-mill dream. It was probably because they had that fight last night - that’s it! Spike had been taunting her and making with the innuendos – and she always got turned on when they fought anyway so…

“Dammit, I cannot believe I just admitted that – even to myself.”

She cursed her betraying mind under her breath, stalking angrily now towards the Magic Box. Thank God she was almost there. At least the meeting would provide her with some kind of distraction. Bad Buffy Brain had been on autopilot all day, dredging up thoughts of Spike at every turn. Didn’t Willow mention a forgetting spell once? Opening the door to the shop she resolved to look into that.

*Immediately, if not sooner.*


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


“Every little thing she does is magic, everything she do just turn me on. Even though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes on…”

Spike soaped vigorously, singing with gusto. He was in a damn fine mood this morning. And why wouldn’t he be? After all these months of being on the ass-end of an agonizingly unrequited love, he finally had a reason to hope. He knew a sweet little secret, didn’t he?

“ I have to tell a story of a thousand rainy days since we first met. It’s a big enough umbrella, but it’s always me that ends up getting wet…”

He belted out, rinsing off his chest. He broke into an impromptu drum solo on the washboard of his abs, sending droplets of water careening off the cement walls of the makeshift shower. Oh yes, he knew a wonderful secret indeed. His Slayer had a thing for him. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

*Just give her time.*

He thought smugly. She was gonna come around sooner or later, and he was a very patient man. He could wait. He could wait a long time – and Lord knows she was worth waiting for. ‘Sides, he wasn’t gettin’ any older, was he?

*Nope – still be this devilishly handsome for the next coupla decades at least.*

Spike smiled to himself thoroughly pleased and turned off the water. He grabbed one of the pilfered motel towels off the steel hooks next to the shower and stepped out, still grinning. Drying briskly he sauntered naked into his bedroom in search of fresh clothes. He wanted to look extra sharp for Buffy today. This was the beginning of an all out campaign to wear her down.

“Gonna kill her with kindness, I am.”

He said jovially, and tossed his damp towel onto the bed. Rummaging through his dresser for fresh clothes he continued his cheery singing;

“ I resolve to call her up a thousand times a day and ask her if she’ll marry me, some old fashioned way. But my silent fears have gripped me before I reach the phone, and before my tongue has tripped me – must I always be aloooone?”

Not only did he have a spectacular night with Buffy. But he’d had the most amazing dream afterwards. Buffy was the star as usual, but there was something different about this one. It was Technicolor, 3-D in Dolby surround sound and THX. Bloody realistic it was. He could almost smell the scent of her silky skin slathered in mango and papaya, and feel her slick heat surrounding him right now. That’s how clear and strong just the memory of it was. Most nights he woke up with a stiffy and some lovely, but vague images of her naked body in his mind. Last night he felt like he’d lived it, like he’d made love to the girl of his dreams all night long. He’d kissed her sweet mouth, tasted her skin, spent a half an hour devouring her gorgeous cunny and then shagged her into oblivion for the rest of the night. Left him with sticky sheets, but it was well bloody worth it.

“Oh yeah.”

He grinned lasciviously. Then began pulling on his black jeans, pausing to adjust his growing erection comfortably before zipping up. He patted his bulge affectionately before putting on a skintight black tee and tucking it in. Spike selected a silk dress shirt the color of burgundy wine from the bureau. He rolled up the sleeves casually and left the rest hanging, as was his custom.

Even though the shagging was brilliant – best ever – in fact, it wasn’t even the best part. The best part was that she’d said she loved him. Sweetly, tenderly and with conviction. She said it like he had always wanted her to, looking right into his eyes and touching his face. Made his heart swell even now just thinking about it. It gave him hope, like it was a sign from the Powers themselves. And who knows, maybe it was?

He stopped for a moment to sigh wistfully and then went on with his preparations. Spike grabbed his silver rings from the dresser and went looking for some industrial strength pomade to tame his wildly rioting curls. Palming a giant dollop from the bathroom cupboard, he began working it in.

“ ‘Cause that whole poodle thing just ain’t gonna cut it, Mate.”

Spike continued humming the love song he’d had stuck in his head all morning. Funny that – usually it was something more hardcore he’d find himself singin’. The Vandals or the Clash or somethin’. But today it was love songs. Oh well. At least it was the Police and not something truly horrible… like the bloody Partridge family.

*I shudder to think…*

Head thoroughly saturated with goop, he whipped his favorite black comb expertly through his slick hair. A few minutes manipulation left him sleek as a selkie, setting off his razor sharp cheekbones and the hard line of his jaw. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he could have use of a mirror. Not having the Polaroid handy he’d just have to go with it, and trust it would do. He wiped his sticky hands on a Motel 6 towel and went back into the bedroom for some cologne.

He could still sense the sun – it must only be about 4 pm yet. Better hurry – he had a Scooby meeting to attend.

*Gotta go see about a girl.*

He thought smiling. Splashing his wrists liberally he brought them to his neck and chest. He could only hope to smell half as good as she did. Still, a fella had to make the effort, didn’t he? Spike grabbed his leather duster on the way out the door and entered the tunnels singing again;

“ Oh, I’ve tried before to tell her all the feelings I have for her in my heart…”





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