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Author's Chapter Notes:
Ahem. Alright. So, this fic is kicking my ass. But here's more--thank you so much to all of ya'll who are still reading at this point!
~*~

“Spike!” She’d been running for almost five minutes—Spike may have been going to the mansion, but he was deliberately taking a long, winding route through Sunnydale’s numerous alleys, trying to throw her off, tire her out.

The problem was that if she was tiring, then he undoubtedly was, too; and he showed no signs of stopping to rest before he took on Angelus.

She’d slipped up back there and she knew it. Showing her terror for Angel so openly, refusing to call him Angelus—because she’d shut off her emotions, Spike couldn’t possibly tell that she felt anything even resembling sympathetic towards the vampire.

Well, that wasn’t precisely true. She cared about him; how could she not? But far more important to her was her friend’s and her own well being. Spike, for all his academic knowledge, couldn’t possibly understand the fear that went through her when she so much as considered the idea that Angel was gone forever and Angelus had taken his place.

He didn’t even stop when she called him. Buffy gritted her teeth in annoyance and increased her speed, determined to catch up.

“Spike,” she panted, drawing level with him. “Spike, stop!”

“Why should I?” His face was grim. Shit.

She screwed up her face, bracing herself for what she was about to do—and punched through the mental barriers he’d erected between them. Because if you don’t I’ll jump on you, we’ll both fall in the mud, and then your coat will be ruined.

He stopped dead at that. His face was still dead serious, but she felt the flicker of anger-tinged indigation.

Low blow, pet.

The name, coupled with the fact that his voice rang clear and intimate in her mind, made her smile. Whatever. Can we please go home? We’ll call Jenny and Giles and have a research session, figure out how to kill Angelus without dying ourselves.

D’you really think that’s going to work? That we’ll find the magic spell or whatever the bloody hell is gonna let us get out ‘f this alive? He looked towards the mansion, and Buffy decided right then that she did not like it when he looked all creepy and broody.

I don’t know, she replied honestly. But I do know that if you charge in there, you’ll kill yourself.

He snorted. Big loss.

For about the millionth time since she’d met him, Buffy snapped. Big loss? The second day I met you I was ready to lose my virginity to you! Does that not make you cling to life even the tiniest bit?

She realized her mistake the second the words left her mouth—and so did he. He looked her up and down very deliberately before smiling in that devious way of his. Y’know, it really does. He sighed out loud, digging his hands into the pockets of his duster. “You’ve convinced me, Blondie. Let’s haul arse back to the library. Giles got a job there, he’ll let us in.”

Relieved, Buffy turned around with him. “You know, I’m not sure we’re even allowed there. It’s a school day.”

Spike took out a stake from his pocket and began tossing it from hand to hand. “And?”

“We’re suspended.” God, he was so socially retarded in some ways. “We shouldn’t be on school grounds.”

“So?” Spike shrugged carelessly before whirling around and throwing the stake.

Buffy didn’t even have time to yell at him. The sharp wood lodged itself in the eye of a scaly green dog-looking demon less than twenty feet away.

Impassive, Spike turned back around and headed for the school.

Her voice was shaking and she didn’t even care when she said, “Spike? What was that?”

“C’tarra demon,” he replied, not bothering to look at her. “Deadly poisonous. Nasty little bugger.”

“Not the stupid demon, I couldn’t care less what it’s called,” Buffy said, irritated. “What I meant was, what’s up with the—“ She imitated his throwing motion.

He shrugged. “Been training for almost a decade. It oughta be good for something by now.”

She wanted to hit him. She really, really did. How could he possibly be so casual about that?

“Okay, you do realize that a demon like that would have given me the serious wiggins?”

His eyes were cold and distant when he looked at her. “’m two years older than you. Give me credit for some experience, yeah?”

And just like that, she knew what was wrong. Thank God for mysterious psychic connections.

She placed a hand on his arm. It wasn’t enough and they both knew it as soon as the spark from the touch rushed through them.

“Please.” It was a whisper, but coming from him she knew that he might as well have gotten down on his knees and begged.

It didn’t feel like a concession at all when she went on tiptoe and kissed him.

At first it was as soft as her touch on his arm—a meeting of lips, nothing more. But then he gripped her arm much more tightly than she was holding him, and her arms went round him and her hands locked behind his neck, and suddenly the kiss was deep and hard and she just plain couldn’t get enough of it.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for breath, Buffy slid her hands down to his front to grip his leather jacket. She was careful to look him in the eye, their faces so close together that their noses were actually touching. “If he’d killed you,” she whispered, panting in between words, “I—I would’ve died.”

His eyes filled with tears. Real, honest-to-God tears. The past few days had been more stressful than either of them wanted to admit. “Fuck,” he muttered, the words an angry hiss. “I wasn’t gonna die, luv.”

“But you might have,” she insisted. “And then where would we be?”

His mouth twisted wryly. “Well, I’d be dead.”

She wasn’t sure whether he was serious or not, but right then she didn’t care. They were walking away from a death trap; that was all that mattered. “You are such a dumbass,” she informed him. “I really should have pushed you into the mud.”

He actually growled. And here she’d thought that only vampires could do that. “If you’d ruined m’ coat, you wouldn’tve needed Angelus to kill you.”

“That’s not funny,” Buffy announced, linking her arm with his. “But I’ll forgive you. If I’d pushed you over then I wouldn’t have been able to kiss you, so it’s all good.”

“You wouldn’t kiss me ‘f I was muddy?” he asked, wounded.

“Um, no. Seriously, could there be anything grosser? I like you all nice and non-muddy, thanks.”

“So it was self-serving. I get it.” He made as if to turn around. “Best go try to defeat Angelus, then. Reckon ‘d be able to stake him b’fore one of his minions killed me.”

“Nu-uh.” Buffy shook her head resolutely. “We are going to go to the library and Giles and Willow are going to help us figure out a way to end him, once and for all. Sometimes a little brain with your brawn can be a good thing, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He had the grace to at least look a little shamed. “C’mon, pet. The sooner we kill this rotter, the sooner I can relieve you ‘f that precious virginity of yours.”

~*~





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