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Glad some one out there likes this. Thanks for the reviews.
Chapter 2

Buff couldn’t contain her sigh of pleasure at the feeling of cool hands softly caressing her shoulders. The bedroom was now overly warm, and she didn’t protest as her white silk strapless gown fell away to pool at her feet. She could see the desire building in his eyes, matched only by the flames burning behind her own half-closed lids.

As their lips touched gently, it felt like the first time they had ever kissed. Fleetingly she thought that perhaps it was. This Spike who had come back to her was different from the one she had known before. She wondered just how deep those differences ran, and whether she was about to find out. She giggled as she thought how odd it would be to have the experience of making love with Spike for the first time – again. If what they had done together could be called making love. Somehow she was sure that this time, it would be. This Spike was gentler, more playful. She smiled into the kiss. She could hardly wait to find out.

Smiling, she led him to the bed, still warm from where she had lain sleeping. Gently, so gently, she began to undress him. When he was finally naked, she inspected every inch of his body. New scars marred his once nearly perfect flesh. She shuddered at the thought of the torment that would be necessary to inflict those kinds of lasting wounds on a vampire, hoping she could erase at least some of the pain as she bent to kiss each one. She wouldn’t count them. There were too many. Maybe one day she would be brave enough to question him about what he had endured, but not today.

Finally leaving the rest of the scars for another time, Buffy decided she couldn’t wait any longer. Using no force at all she gestured that she wanted Spike to lie back on the cushions. Kissing him deeply she moved to cover his body with her own. Slowly she began to move, rocking the bed slightly so that the headboard tapped against the wall. Although she knew no one else would hear them, the noise was disturbing her concentration. She slowed until she was barely moving, but the annoying sound grew louder and more persistent.

“Buffy? You awake?”

Spike’s voice at her door brought Buffy abruptly awake. Her face flamed as she realized what she had been dreaming, and she hoped that Spike was far enough away from her that he wouldn’t notice her embarrassment.

This time Spike couldn’t restrain himself, and he peered around the door looking at the vision of Buffy sprawled out on the bed, nightshirt barely concealing her rounded backside. The soft scent of her arousal reached his sensitive nostrils, and he was mesmerized. He tried to pull himself away, but he simply couldn’t.

“I knocked and knocked, but you must have been really out of it. Not even the sounds of all those birds fluttering about woke you. You’re bloody exhausted, Buffy. You need to take better care of yourself.”

Blinking her eyes, Buffy tried to ignore the remnants of the dream (or was it a premonition?) that still clung stubbornly in her brain. She and Spike were in the same bedroom as she had imagined, but she was still decently covered in her nightshirt (or almost so, as she quickly adjusted it), and Spike was on the other side of the room, standing in the doorway.

Blinking, she wasn’t completely convinced that her mind hadn’t merely moved on to another part of the same dream. She stared awestruck at the vision he made. This couldn’t be real, could it? Standing halfway in the room, Spike stood dimly illuminated by firelight. He was once again dressed in his traditional black, but a fancy black tuxedo had replaced the jeans and t-shirt. She blinked a few times and pinched herself to make sure that she wasn’t still asleep. “Wow. He really cleans up well.” The words came out in a whisper – but of course Spike could hear them.

“What, you think the fancy dress was only for the birds? That wouldn’t look proper now would it?” He strode over and pulled the covers the rest of the way off the bed, picked her up and set her on her feet. “Come on, time to get ready and join the party. The guests are beginning to wonder whether I’ve got you chained up in the basement somewhere.”

Only Spike could make a joke out of what was possibly one of the most painful days of his unlife. But looking back on it now, it surprisingly did seem kind of funny. Now she believed that Spike had been all flash and bluster when he had talked about setting Drusilla loose on her if she didn’t admit her feelings for him – but back then she hadn’t been nearly so sure.

But she didn’t want to voice any more of her thoughts. Instead, she relied on her ever-ready snippy comments. “Fine. Fine. Give me a minute will you? I want to do this dress justice.”

Spike held out the dress for her to put on, but made no move to leave the room. With a gasp, Buffy realized that it was the same white silk dress she had been wearing in her dream. Confused, she decided not to argue, as she gestured for him to turn around so she could slip it on quickly. Then she moved to stand with her back to him so that he could help her fasten it. She shivered as he put his hand on her waist so he could pull the zipper up – the scene was so similar to her dream. If she hadn’t still been in something of a haze, she might have taken offense as she heard him whisper, “You’re always beautiful to me.”

It wasn’t quite a declaration of love, but it was close enough. Since he had his soul restored, Spike hadn’t made his feelings for her quite so plain. Until now she hadn’t really considered whether his feelings towards her had changed. Hadn’t really cared as long as he was still willing to fight for her. Strangely, she realized that although his declarations had made her feel uncomfortable before, now that he was silent on the matter she missed knowing where she stood with him. She didn’t want to admit that she missed the feeling of being loved so fully and unconditionally. No, she assured herself, it was only the uncertainty now that she found uncomfortable.

She glanced in the mirror and was almost startled to see only herself reflected. Since the soul, she had begun to think of Spike as almost human. The next thing she noticed was her hair – it was even worse than she had feared it would be. Starting to come undone from the braid and sticking out at strange places making an unruly mass that would take forever to untangle.

“Don’t lie to me, Spike. My hair’s a mess. I don’t think a quick fix is going to be enough to make me presentable. I knew I shouldn’t sleep on it still damp, but there was no hair dryer….”

“I won’t call you on it just this once, Slayer, but remember you promised, no complaining. Besides, you don’t need a hair dryer. Women have been doing their hair just fine for centuries without hair dryers. You’d think you could manage it for one night.”

“Women may have managed without hair dryers, but this woman has not. You’d better leave Spike, I don’t think this battle is one you can help me with.”

He mimed being shot to the chest, “It pains me that after all this time, you still have no confidence in me. I’ll have you know that I dressed Dru’s hair for over a century.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Spike regretted them. The reference to Dru was unfortunate, and he could see that Buffy’s mouth had turned down.

“Dressed her hair? What’s that supposed to mean? And if you think that I want to look like that ho, you are so wrong.”

“Don’t worry. On your worst day you are far more lovely than Dru could ever be.” Taking her hand, Buffy let Spike lead her over to the dressing table, where she had noticed an array of clips and combs, obviously meant as accessories for her hair – but Buffy didn’t know what to do with them. She usually either left her hair loose, or tied into a quick ponytail. There was even an assortment of her own cosmetics on the table. “You really did think of everything, didn’t you?”

The mirror didn’t reflect the slight tremble in Spike’s hands as he leant to take the brush away from her. “Let me.” He whispered softly in her ear, and Buffy felt goose bumps begin to rise on her neck, knowing that he was so near. As he took a handful of her hair and expertly began to undo the tangled locks Buffy slowly began to relax again.

Wanting to help her unwind, that was after all the purpose of the evening, Spike decided to keep up a steady monologue. That way the Slayer would be able to keep track of him by the sound of his voice, since she couldn’t see him in the mirror. “Used to do this all the time for Dru, even Darla sometimes. No mirrors, remember. Plus, I think they just liked it – having me help with their hair.” He wasn’t about to admit to how much he had liked it too - so sensual and delicate. Being one of the fanged four had been many things, but soft and sensual was rarely one of them. Course, being with the Slayer hadn’t been about romance and flowers either, much as he had wanted it to be. But he wasn’t going to go there – not again. They were friends now, and he wasn’t going to muck this up like he did the last time.

“Would you,” he stuttered for a moment, trying to get a hold of his emotions. “Would you like me to put it up for you? I’ve brought some things…”

Buffy had been enjoying the feel of his hands in her hair, his voice speaking softly, leaving soft puffs of air on her bare neck. She hadn’t really been paying attention to anything he had been saying though, so she prevaricated, “What?” It came out a little more harshly than she had intended, so she tried again. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said I could help you put your hair up – doesn’t have to be fancy. Just get it off your shoulders….”

The sensations were getting to be too much. She needed a little distance, so she answered flippantly, “That would be great, Spike. Get this untidy mess up and out of the way. Kinda goes with the whole fancy ball thing.”

“Yes,” he said simply. Spike was completely immersed in the moment. The smell and feel of her hair was intoxicating. He had helped Dru do her hair more times than he could count, but he didn’t mention how often the soft play of her curls and the close proximity of her neck had led to other things. He wondered if Buffy had any idea how erotic this was for him. He half wished that he had the conviction of his previous incarnations so that he would be brave enough to kiss her bared throat. But he knew that he couldn’t bring himself to actually do it, and also knew that it was probably for the best. Even if she acquiesced, it was probably better that they didn’t get involved again. He had messed things up so badly the first time, he was afraid to make a misstep. He valued the friendship that they had now. If she wanted more than that, then she would have to be the one to initiate it.

Except for a few moments when they fought, or when Spike had still been convalescing, they hadn’t been this physically close since the year before. And Buffy honestly couldn’t remember a time when she’d allowed him to touch her so gently – even when they had been sleeping together. The year they had spent together hadn’t been about tenderness.

Unlike Angel and Angelus, Spike and souled Spike usually seemed pretty much the same to Buffy. It was only in moments like this that Buffy could sense the vast changes in him. Or perhaps he had always been like this, but she had been too blind to see it. Surely pre-soul Spike would not have let the opportunity go without making a pass at her, or at least making suggestive comments. He never would have simply let himself suffer and enjoy their closeness without pushing for more.

But at least he hadn’t been lying, Buffy saw as her hair seemingly bent itself into rings and sprays held by gold butterfly clips. Spike had certainly done ladies hair before – Buffy tried not to let thoughts of Spike and Dru spoil her mood.

Finally, he was satisfied, and Buffy had to admit to herself that she was also pleased with the results. She felt like a supermodel or a movie star on the cover of a magazine. It was almost surreal as Spike took her arm to lead her downstairs.

“One more thing. I almost forgot.” He turned back momentarily then slipped a brilliant gold and diamond-studded choker around her neck. “There, now you’re perfect.”

Buffy had to agree. The color of the dress set off her skin tones and eyes perfectly and the necklace tied it all together with an elegance she knew she’d never had on her own. Behind her, the sounds of her sister’s latest infatuation boy band filled the hallway. Buffy nearly skipped down the stairs, while Spike watched from above, smiling. This was how she was meant to be – beautiful, happy and carefree. Not burdened with the fate of the world. He was glad that he had given her this, and that he had been privileged enough to see it.

**

The SITs and their friends filled the great room downstairs. The men were easy to pick out. They were the only ones in black. Giles, Xander, Wood, hell, even Andrew looked pretty hot in a tuxedo. And each man was virtually surrounded by a sea of girls. And the girls themselves… they looked amazing. Beautiful, elegant, carefree and relaxed in a way Buffy had never seen them. Every color of the rainbow was represented in their gowns. They were young, beautiful, alive, and despite their training, still so very innocent of death and killing.

One long table had been pushed against the wall and the leftovers of what must have been a fabulous spread littered the table. Buffy almost let out an annoyed comment, but then remembered her own promise of no complaints. So there was no food left – no big. She wasn’t here to eat, she was here to relax and have a good time. And she had had that wonderful long soak in the tub and a long nap that she couldn’t possibly have lived without.

Spike had left her to her own devices and was chatting with Amanda and some of the other girls on the other side of the room, so she headed over to Xander and Dawn.

“Great party, huh,” Dawn gushed. Buffy had never seen her look so radiant and grown- up in a long empire-waisted blue gown with matching hair ribbons. Around her neck was a matching necklace almost as elaborate as the one Buffy wore, only Dawn’s was accented with both blue and clear stones. Somehow, the outfit vaguely reminded her of the gown Sweet had conjured for her – while at the same time being totally different.

“Did you try the cake? It’s so out of this world. You really should say something to Willy – Spike hired him to cater everything and he really did a great job.”

“Willy?” Buffy was stunned.

“Yeah, Spike had him cater the food. It was great.”

Even Xander had something good to say, “And amazingly enough, totally human friendly. No blood or other unmentionables – well, if you don’t count Anya’s stinky yak cheeses.”

“No,” Dawn agreed, “Not demony at all.” She looked over at the decimated table, “Too bad it’s all gone. Guess that’s what happens when you sleep most of the party away.”

Buffy had promised no complaints to Spike. Didn’t say anything about not sniping at her sister. The least the little brat could have done was save her a few pieces of fruit or ‘stinky cheese.’ Jeez, some people here hadn’t even had dinner. She opened her mouth to say something snarky but closed it again. Dawn simply looked so happy. Happier than she could remember her being since before Mom died. She wasn’t going to ruin it by saying something nasty. So, Dawn was self-centered and unsympathetic. What else was new? She was a teenager – that’s how teenagers are supposed to be.

Buffy wandered around the room chatting with Giles and some of the SITs. Xander had asked her to dance, but she had declined. She was still slightly sleepy and a little grumpy at having to go without dinner. And almost everyone she talked to commented on how great the food had been. Finally, she ran into Willy himself, escorting one of the girls off the dance floor. She was a little surprised that he was here with them, enjoying the party, but figured Spike must have invited him.

Before she could say anything, Willy began. “It really was nice of you and Spike to invite me to stay for the big shindig, Slayer. I’m not usually much of a party animal myself, but Spike said that you were a little short on humans of the male variety. Also, mentioned something about a protection spell on the place – so I figured why not? I haven’t danced so much since I got myself invited to a Chancre demon’s wedding. Turned out anyone not dancing was assumed to be part of the buffet. Plus, I have to say, most of your girls are a hell of a lot prettier than a Chancre demon.”

Most of what he had actually said had passed right by her – the music was loud just where they were. Idly Buffy noticed Dawn’s boom box on the floor nearby and tried to step away from it slightly so she could hear herself speak. “I wanted to let you know that everyone is just raving about the food, Willy. I hear it was really good. I guess that’s why it’s all gone now.” She tried not to let the pout slip into her voice.

“Didn’t you try it, Slayer? You need to eat more – you’re as thin as a rail these days.”

“Well, it’s not for lack of wanting. It’s just that I overslept, and by the time I came down it was all gone.”

“You look in the kitchen?” Willy suggested. “I coulda swore I saw Spike put aside a plate or two for you, Slayer. Why don’t you ask him?”

“Thanks. I think I’ll do that,” she said, nonplussed. She scanned the crowd and spotted Spike standing in a group with Anya, Dawn and several other girls. The sight of Spike anywhere near Anya still got her angry. “I think I’ll just head into the kitchen and check it out,” she murmured.

Spike saw her look over at him for the first time that evening, and decided to follow her into the kitchen. He’d wondered how long it would take her to find the stash of goodies he’d set aside for her. He had to stop for a second when he opened the door and saw her tucking into the food hungrily. Dressed so elegantly it made his unbeating heart ache, she had food in both hands, and was messily tearing into a chicken wing, which she had dipped in ranch sauce. The dressing had pooled around her lips at the side of her mouth, and she was greedily licking her fingers.

The sight evoked memories, which, if not exactly painful, were inappropriate at the moment. He moved quickly to put the kitchen island between them, so that she wouldn’t have the opportunity of a laugh at his expense. Damn tuxedo pants were made of much flimsier fabric than his jeans, and revealed far too much of what he was thinking.

Spike had learned early on that the best defense is always a good offense, “Enjoying yourself then, pet?” he drawled.

He rarely called her ‘Pet’ or ‘Luv,’ anymore, and Buffy wondered what had brought it on. She was still feeling snippy, “Unlike you, us mortals get hungry. I didn’t have any lunch and I slept through dinner – I don’t know how I was going to last until morning.”

“What, you think I don’t get hungry, Luv?”

His voice was taunting and rough, and heavy with desire. When Buffy looked up at him, she could see the hunger in his eyes, and it wasn’t for the food. This was more like the Spike she remembered.

He reached out a hand towards the plate of food Buffy was guarding, and without thinking, she slapped it away. For a second she was stunned by what she had done. Why was her first reaction always to hurt him? Best to brazen it out. “You saved it for me, so it’s mine. If you want some you’ll have to ask,” she quipped.

Spike had gone quite still. Immediately as she slapped his hand a shiver of pleasure ran through him. God, how he missed touching her. Every brush of her hand, every blow while training, reminded him of how badly he wanted her – how much his body still craved her, and how hard the soul had to work to restrain himself from letting her know that.

Before he could pull himself together, the kitchen door burst open and Robin Wood strode in. He took one look at Spike’s face and Buffy’s hand still touching his on table by the plate of food, and snorted. “Not interrupting anything, am I?” Without waiting for a reply he went on, “Giles told me you’re hiding some actual alcohol in here, a way from the children. Can’t imagine why no one else would have mentioned that to me.” Another pointed look over to Spike.

“Sorry if you missed the memo, mate.” He was pretty sure Wood didn’t miss his sarcasm, although if Buffy noticed she made no sign. “It’s just out the backdoor.”

While Wood was out of the room, Buffy squeezed Spike’s hand, and mouthed the word, “Sorry.” When Wood came back in carrying two cans of beer, Buffy was happily tucking into her food again, and Spike was leaning against the refrigerator. Wood spied the food.

“Glad I came in here. Who knows what else you’re hiding?” It was said with a smile, but Spike noticed that it didn’t reach his eyes. Spike didn’t much care for Wood, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Without asking, Wood reached over and helped himself to the last of the shrimp. Spike could tell Buffy was simmering, but she didn’t say a word as Wood munched away happily. “I must have had about a dozen of these earlier. They sure are good.”

Reaching over to grab another helping of something else, Wood never realized how close he was to finding himself flung back out the kitchen door, chip be damned. But Spike had looked to Buffy before moving, and she held him back with a shake of her head. She didn’t want Spike’s assistance. But apparently she wasn’t ready to speak up for herself either. Spike had to content himself with looking glares at the man, hoping he would take the hint and leave. Couldn’t Wood tell that Buffy had been seriously under eating? But Buffy shook her head again when she heard Spike growling under his breath. It was her choice, after all. If she didn’t want to speak up for herself, it wasn’t it his place to stand up for her. She was the Slayer after all. She could take care of herself.

Just then Faith and Andrew burst into the room. “Hey, we hear you’ve been holding out on us B. Where’s the good stuff?”

Robin gestured to the door, just as Andrew commented, “Ooh, more food. Did you try these chicken wings, Spike? They’re terrific. Makes me wish I was a demon and had the nerve to go to Willy’s on my own. Not that I’d be afraid to go in there, of course, just, just that I’d feel uncomfortable being the only human, well besides Willy anyway.”

Spike just shook his head and made to leave when he felt a hand on his arm. For a brief second he hoped that it was Buffy, asking him to stay. But it was the other Slayer, Faith. “Don’t tell me that’s all there is, out on the porch. I know you’ve got some of the strong stuff around here somewhere. Giles had Scotch.”

Damn and damn. Beer and wine weren’t enough for these interlopers? Of course Faith needed to have a go at his good Scotch. And he knew what would happen too. Faith would have some, and then Wood, and finally Andrew. Andrew wouldn’t like it, and couldn’t handle it, but he’d just have to have some so that he wouldn’t look so much like the wimp he was. He’d probably be sick later too. Then not only would his liquor be gone, but they’d probably all blame him for their hangovers too. He should have known it would come to this and kept his private stock of liquor completely off premises.

Only question was, should he give in gracefully as the Slayer had done, or put up a fight? Probably didn’t matter. They’d get what they wanted anyway, so he may as well salvage what he could out the situation and get on the Slayer’s good side, by offering.

With a look at the Slayer, making sure that she knew that she had started it, he pulled out the bottle and several empty glasses. Poured one for himself and left the rest. Of course they didn’t take it in good graces. Faith jabbed him playfully (but hard) “Knew you were holding out on me, Spike.” At the same time Wood grumbled, with a sideways look at Buffy. “Knew he was hiding something. Probably lots more we don’t know going on too.”

Spike had had enough and left for the main room with his drink. He remembered that the courtyard was always lovely at this time of night. Perhaps there he could be left in peace. He ran into Dawn on the way, and the two of them sat outside looking at the stars in silence for a while.

“This is nice, Spike,” she said. “I understand why you brought us all here, even if it is kinda weird and creepy that Angel used to live here. We needed a break. Some time to relax and relate to each other in a way that doesn’t involve killing things. Buffy especially. I don’t think that the others can see it, but she’s kinda…fragile right now. On edge. Like she’d grasp at anything to keep from sinking. I think that’s why she went out with Principal Wood that one time.”

Spike knew that she meant her comment to make him feel better, but instead it just made him feel worse. Is that what Buffy’s on again off again attraction to him was? An attempt to keep herself from falling over the edge into despair? That wasn’t what he wanted from her. He wanted her to want HIM, not any random bloke who offered to make her feel better for a night or two.

And what had that been about, in the kitchen? Spike hadn’t let her see how her actions had affected him. At the same time that it had aroused his passion, her slap had also hurt his feelings. He didn’t know how the same action could evoke two totally contradictory feelings in him, but it did. Somehow Buffy was good at that.





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