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~*~

They’d been in the house for an hour. They had both eaten, joking around, and now they were standing awkwardly in the kitchen, trying to fight the attraction they could feel and ignore the burgeoning psychic connection that had asserted itself in the bookstore.

In short, there was a huge, multicolored elephant standing in Buffy’s kitchen, and they were both pretending it didn’t exist.

She watched him shrug, seemingly uncaring. “Dunno. Got some movies?”

Further proof that she was definitely as evil as he’d accused her of being—Buffy could feel a grin spread across her face as she thought about what sorts of movies she owned.

“Sure,” she said, that smile still in place. “And I know exactly what we can watch.”

She went out into the family room, expecting him to follow her. What she didn’t expect was to heard his voice once again reverberating in her skull.

So, Summers, you gonna make me watch a girly movie?

She jumped, spilling the DVDs she’d been holding out onto the carpet. Holy shit! Don’t do that!!

You’re such a girl.

Well, duh, she shot back sarcastically. I am just a little bit of a girl, you know.

Suddenly she felt him behind her, his hands pulling her backward. I know that, he all but purred.

To her everlasting shame, she damn near melted. His voice even sounded sexy in her head. Are you always this horny? she demanded irritably.

He grinned as he released her. ’f I answer no will you be nice an’ indulge me?

Hmph. Guys are so stupid, she grumbled, walking over to the video player.

“What’s that, luv?” Spike asked aloud, his tone teasing, as he sat down on the couch and propped his boots up on the coffee table.

“Boots down,” she ordered. “And I said, Guys are really stupid.”

“Oh, really? Think ‘ll have a few insults ‘f my own to throw around before the movie’s over. Bet you picked some girly flick.”

She forced herself to smile vaguely. Will you tease me about it in my head? she asked curiously.

He sighed. “Yeah, I kinda figured you’d be askin’ that.”

“Do you understand why it’s happening? I mean, why are we all with the mind-melding?”

“Maybe ‘cause we’re both Slayers?” he suggested.

She wrinkled her nose as she thought. “Would that be enough to make us be all psychic together?”

“Hey, ‘m not exactly an expert,” he said, shrugging. “’ve got no bloody idea what’s goin’ on right now.”

“But didn’t you say you’d been training for, like, ever?”

She rolled her eyes at him as he snorted; it hadn’t been all that stupid a question. “Been training for almost a decade, but just the fighting stuff. Giles learned early he wasn’t gonna shove some nancy-boy book learning crap into my head.”

“But…don’t you have to know stuff? You’re the Slayer!” Buffy protested, remembering vividly all the nights when Jenny had forced her to sit down and memorize dates and facts and a bunch of other boring stuff that she couldn’t have cared less about.

“Please. ‘f the Watchers had their way, Blondie, we’d be sitting in a schoolroom all day,” he told her. “Haven’t you ever stood up to Jenny b’fore?”

She could remember the one time she’d tried—the fury in Jenny’s eyes and the promises that made what vampires did to the humans they tortured look like fun and games. “Um, no.”

“Wimp,” he said with a grin, his tongue between his teeth.

She made a face at him and plopped down next to him on the couch. “Oh, like you’re not.”

“’ey! I’ll have you know ‘m just about as non-wimpy as they come, you silly bint.”

“Is that a fact?” Buffy could feel an evil smile spreading across her face as she held up a video in her right hand.

Spike stared at A Walk To Remember with what could only be described as horror on his face. “That’s below the belt, luv.”

“Well, then,” she said, popping the video into the VCR, “We’ll just have to see how much you have down there, huh?”

As the opening credits started rolling, she could hear him almost whimpering. “Sodding girly flicks,” he muttered.

“Shh!” Buffy ordered, her eyes already glued to the screen.

She was busy watching the (in her opinion, riveting) adventures of Landon and his less-than-honest-friends when she felt Spike’s arm slip around her wait and pull her closer to him. She shot him a warning look, half expecting him to start tickling her…but keeping his eyes on the TV screen, he smiled. One thing this movie has going for it—you’ll be sobbing like a baby by the time it’s done.

Despite the fact that she’d seen it five times and had done just that, Buffy retorted, I so will not! And anyway, you’ll cry, too.

Right. You go on livin’ in your little dream world, pet.

You totally will. Anyone who watches Dawson’s Creek is a shoo-in for this movie. They’ve probably done some kind of experiment on it.

Who said I watched Dawson’s Creek? he said indignantly.

You did. When we were shopping, remember?

A pause. Then: Oh, yeah. Dammit.

Buffy giggled aloud. “Now hush,” she ordered. “It’s getting to the good parts.”

He snorted but obeyed her request. They were both silent throughout the movie, though when Buffy glanced over at Spike she found him alternatively absorbed in the movie and raising a definitely sardonic eyebrow at it. He can’t admit he’s actually liking it, she thought smugly.

I’d admit I liked it ‘f I did, pet, he suddenly informed her. Which I don’t. Landon’s a bloody idiot.

How did you hear that? she demanded. I wasn’t talking to you!

Well, you weren’t talking to anyone, he replied. But c’mon, pet, you were thinkin’ so loud I couldn’t help but hear it.

Thinking loud? Now she was going to have to worry about privacy in her thoughts, too? Buffy groaned. “This really can’t get worse, can it?”

“Well, ‘s a two-way street. If you wanted to take a dip in my head you could.”

“Really?” Somehow the idea had never occurred to her before…wrinkling up her nose, she projected her mind towards his.

Suddenly, a myriad of colors and sounds whirled about her. She could feel her feet still securely resting on her living room carpet, but her—did they call it consciousness?—was stuck in what she could only guess was Spike’s head.

Images all but attacked her—she saw Giles’s face often, and vampire bumpies showed up a lot, too. Blood, rather a lot of it, and a kind-faced older woman that she guessed was his mother.

“Buffy? Buffy!”

“Huh?” she blinked and found herself staring into Spike’s concerned face. Unable to help herself, she smiled weakly. “Oh. Hi.”

“Where’d you go, luv?”

“Into your head.” She frowned. “Kinda literally. Is it all ‘this is your brain on drugs’ when you go into my head?”

“On drugs?” he asked, amused. “’s that what you saw, pet?”

“Never mind,” she said dismissively. “It’s an American thing. How can you sort out my thoughts in all that mess?”

Now it was his turn to look confused. “There’s a mess?”

She nodded. “A big one. Didn’t that happen when you went into my head?” When he continued to look dumbfounded, she elaborated. “You know, lots of swirly colors, some pictures…?”

He shook his head. “Think you’re goin’ a bit deeper’n I bothered to, luv. I just sorta skimmed your mind—caught onto the stuff that was right there on the surface. Your thoughts.”

It was totally unfair, the way he could make it sound so easy. Buffy scowled at her male counterpart. “You know what? I completely hate you sometimes.”

He rolled his eyes. Bloody irritating bint.

“Hey! I heard that!”

“See? You’re making progress.”

Starting a Slayer on Slayer smackdown in her living room wouldn’t be the best of ideas. Buffy was mature enough to acknowledge that. But she really, really wanted to. “So, all you ever do is insult me, huh?”

Spike’s smirk disappeared when he saw that she was actually semi-serious. C’mon, you know I wasn’t serious!

No, I really don’t. I’ve known you for—how long? Two days?

Uncertainty was coursing through her, and she was pretty sure he could feel it. She was getting irritated with herself, because she was being stupid and girly and teenager-ey, and she knew it, but at the same time, she couldn’t help herself. Some part of her was desperate for clarification about this thing they had going.

Yeah, during which we’ve fought an’ nearly shagged more’n could possibly be healthy.

What? No! We didn’t shag! There was no shagging!

Sarcasm radiated from him when he replied, Right. You go on believin’ that, luv.

Tears filled her eyes. So, that’s what I am? Some random, slutty girl who happens to be able to kick your ass?

“What the—balls,” Spike said, frustration in his voice. The statement seemed to echo in the house, which for all the emotion-charged communication had been completely silent for the past few minutes.

When she didn’t respond—because what could she say?—she heard him move until he was sitting next to her on the couch.

His fingers brought her chin up until she was looking him in the eye. “I don’t think you’re just a potential shag, luv. ‘f I thought that, I’d be out trollin’ that club of yours right now. You’re a brilliant, irritating, bloody beautiful chit, an’ there’s not a chance in hell I could ever think ‘f you as anything else.”

It was corny beyond belief, but Buffy found herself smiling. “Irritating, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted, grinning shamelessly. “’m not gonna turn into a complete poof and start singing your praises, so don’t hold your breath.”

She smiled slightly and moved towards him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “Thanks,” she said, releasing him.

Their eyes met, blue and hazel, warmth and coolness. After a moment Spike coughed uncomfortably. “So…’s almost six-thirty. We’d best be gettin’ down to the cemetery so Peaches doesn’t wet himself wondering where we’ve gone.”

She rolled her eyes at him but hastily hopped off the couch. “One great thing about Southern California—no coats needed,” she teased him as he grabbed his coat on the way out.

“What can I say?” Spike smirked as he opened the door. Buffy was jamming on her shoes. “Old habits die hard.”

“Yeah, right,” she joked as they left. She was careful to lock the door—demons weren’t the only thing in Sunnydale that would like to get into her house. They had a fair number of burglars, too.

“You know, I really think you only make fun of Angel because he’s just like you, minus the bleach,” she continued as they began to walk.

“Am not!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the immaturity of his protest. “Yeah, right. You go on believing that,” she teased as they rounded the corner and kept walking, out of sight of Buffy’s house.

Crickets chirped as the chatter of the two blondes grew more and more distant. The light in the front of the Summers’ home burned steadily, warding off the encroaching dark.

Angelus stepped out of the shadows and onto the porch. In his hand was a small bundle, one that he carelessly dropped at Buffy’s doorstep. Taking out an object from his pocket, he laid it on top of the package. A hollow smile graced his lips.

“And the games begin.”

As he disappeared, following the pair of Slayers as they made their way to the cemetery, the severed finger he’d dropped onto the package bled sluggishly into the paper of the envelope, staining it dark red.

~*~

A/N: Creepy enough for you? I swear, this fic keeps getting little plot twists! *pouts* Sorry about the delay in updates…I had this great problem where my dad dropped my laptop and I had to rewrite this chap…and yeah, I keep making excuses ;) But thanks muchly for the reviews!





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