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~*~


“So,” Buffy said, sitting down on the couch.

Spike arched an eyebrow at her. “So?”

“We need to get a plan together to kill Angel—I mean, Angelus,” Buffy said, wincing at her mistake. The last thing she needed was to start thinking about how Angel had been before he’d lost his soul again.

“So we put a stake through his heart.” He shrugged. “End of story.”

“Do you honestly think it’s that easy?” Buffy asked impatiently.

“’ve been training for almost a decade,” he said, plopping down on the couch next to her. Buffy immediately looked away. It was completely and totally unfair that someone so sexy and so…well, sexy, was sitting on her couch and she wasn’t allowed to do anything about it.

And it was even worse, she thought at her face reddened and she felt his mind brush against hers, that she wasn’t even allowed to think about it without him finding out.

“Naughty thoughts, pet?” he asked, leering at her.

“No!” she all but yelped. “I—I mean…okay, so you’ve been training since you were ten, but you’ve never staked anyone like Angelus before, have you?”

Spike tilted his head thoughtfully and sucked his cheeks in. Buffy fought not to stare.

Hell with it. Her eyes flew to his face and traces the line of his cheekbone. God, it was so sharp, and she wanted nothing more than to trail her tongue down it and to his mouth…

Go ahead, then.

She jumped. “Hunh?”

Spike smirked at her. “’f you keep sendin’ thoughts like that to me, we’re never gonna get anything done.”

She could’ve done several things at that moment. She could have blushed and steered the conversation back to Angelus; she could have fervently denied that her thoughts had been anything but G-rated; she could even have knocked him out and dragged him back to Sunnydale Motel. But when she twisted over to his side of the couch and straddled him, feeling his erection beneath her, she knew she’d made the right choice.

Angelus was probably going to try to end the world, and their Watchers were both still injured, and then there was that annoying destiny thing—but right now all Buffy could think about was how much she wanted to kiss Spike.

So she did.

It was hot, and messy, and a little confusing, since she’d jumped on his lap and started kissing him in about a second. Spike’s mouth had been open when she brought her lips to his, so there was also some confusing tongue action going on…

But then he moved, placing his hands on her hips and holding her firmly, and his mouth began to move against hers, and it might have been messy but at that moment it was perfect.

“Mmm,” she murmured, slipping her hands under his t-shirt, “I think we should do this all day.”

“Can’t. We’ve got—work to do.” But even as he said it, his hands were hiking her top up and cupping her breasts.

“Work later,” she murmured, leaning into his touch. “Right now…play.”

She wasn’t actually being irresponsible. Not at all. Throwing herself at Spike wasn’t immature or bad in the least. It was fun. Lots and lots of fun.

Buffy moaned, partly in response to his fingers and partly because she felt herself going all melt-ey because of something that had nothing to do with the way he was touching her.

When they kissed again, it was with renewed determination on her part. The dream she’d had last night meant nothing. Not to her and not to him. The fact that they had a psychic connection, that he was more in tune with her than anyone else had ever been—that didn’t mean anything, either. He made her feel good, and that was the end of it.

But when they broke apart for air she buried her face in his neck, not wanting him to see just how much he was affecting her. I didn’t want to go out with Angel back when he was all non-evil, but the second Spike comes along, I get all horizontal with him. Wonderful. Why did she feel like such a slut?

Spike’s hands stilled the second he felt her stiffen. “Buffy, pet? ‘s something wrong?”

“It’s just—“ she sighed. “Never mind, I’m being stupid. What were you going to say about Angelus?”

He arched his eyebrow at her; she was still straddling his lap. Blushing, Buffy swung her leg back over and sat beside him. When he put an arm around her, though, she didn’t resist.

“I don’t know much about him. I mean, I know the basics—mass murdered, really damn old, hooked up with a whore for most of his unlife—but I don’t know much ‘bout him. Fighting styles, attitude, favorite bloody color, whatever. That’s your territory.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “So you want Angelus lessons?”

He scowled. “I s’pose so.”

“Right, then.” She drew up her knees and cuddled closer to her fellow Slayer. “So, you know he’s really big—and not like that,” she added severely. “God, you’re such a pervert. He uses size to his advantage—like, he literally throws his weight around. So I guess that’s a point in our favor…”

~*~

By the time Buffy had finished analyzing Angel’s strengths and weaknesses and comparing them to his own, Spike was feeling sorry that he’d ever asked. On the surface, the chit didn’t appear to be that smart—but he’d be buggered if he’d ever met a girl who was quite that thorough when she set her mind to something.

Made him wonder what she’d be like in other areas of study…

That, mate, he told himself firmly, is just perverted. Perverted an’ wrong an’ bloody stupid. You really wanna get mixed up with a girl whose expiration mark is stamped on her forehead, just like yours? Kind of luck you have, you end up gettin’ her killed even sooner.

But that was just the thing. When he was around her, he felt safer than he ever had before. He felt like a pouf, admitting that he wanted to feel safe…but he did. He liked knowing that someone was capable of watching his back.

Plus, he thought, grinning as he dodged another of her punches, he never had to hold back with her. That was fun.

When she’d kissed him in the living room—well, she’d pulled away, and he’d let her. Only a wanker would’ve tried to keep her there. But he sure as hell hadn’t wanted to stop. He’d known the girl less than a week, but she was already under his skin. He’d been in her head, had felt her thoughts and emotions; in many ways, they were closer than couples who’d been together for months or even years.

When she feinted to the left and succeeded in knocking him to the floor, he laughed. And when she straddled him and announced triumphantly, “Gotcha!” he merely held her closer.

“That you do, pet. That you do.”

It was only late that night, as he drifted off to sleep with the image of Buffy’s laughing face before him, that he realized: Fuck it all to a thong-wearing rabbit's hell. I’m falling in love with her.

~*~

A/N: YES, there was a lag in updates. And if you're still sticking with this fic then you pretty much kick ass. Thank you. *hugs readers*





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