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Author's Chapter Notes:
Story and chapter titles borrowed from U2's "A Sort of Homecoming."
At her front door, she paused and cleared her throat. "Spike, that - thing back there - "

His mouth curled; he'd been expecting this the whole not-uncomfortably silent walk home. "Yeah?"

" - not that I didn't, you know, sorta enjoy it - "

Full-fledged smirk now. Sorta? Right. Oh, he was still evil enough to enjoy her racing heartbeat, the sound of the blood rushing to her cheeks. Or maybe it was just sheer masculine pride in his prowess at revving his girl's engine. Mad hotwiring skills, yeah. A smart slap on the back of his head interrupted his preening. "Oi!" Rubbing the sting, he glared at her. "I didn't even say anything!"

"Yeah, well, I know what you're thinking."

He shrugged, conceding the point, and they traded knowing grins. It wasn't long before hers faltered and her eyes went a little shy, a little hesitant, but still - resolute. Not running away, or hiding, just...hitting Pause on the TiVo. "I just think we should, you know - "

"Not rush into things?"

Relieved sigh. "Exactly."

"Right. Moratorium on kissing, starting now." It'd be okay. He could live off that memory (and others) for a good long while. Maybe forever. Might have to...

"Yeah." She looked at him sidelong, lips twitching. "Status to be reviewed periodically."

...or not. He covered the surge of hope with an eye-roll and a snarl: "Bugger. Cut the soldier-speak, will you?"

"You started it, Mister 'Moratorium'!"

"Oh, very mature, Slayer."

She shook her head, abandoning the field but not admitting defeat, for such was just not in her idiom. Live to fight another day was more her style. "You coming in?"

He extracted his cigarettes from his duster pocket and lipped one out, grinned at her around it. "In a bit." He lit up. "Go on, luv. Give Rupert the bad news."

Her eyes flashed the Wrath of Buffy and he winced in sudden unwonted sympathy for the Watcher. Oi, Rupert. Better duck and cover. When she looked at him again, though, her expression had softened. She touched his cheek where the healing burn still stung. "How's that feel?"

"Likely be gone by morning. Don't worry about me, pet. I'll be fine." He caught her hand on the descent, raised it to his lips. Felt her pulse jitter, and smiled into her skin.

"Cheater," she chided, even as her fingers curled around his.

"Well, you know...evil."

"Oh, yeah. You're still the Big Bad," she chuckled, releasing his hand and opening the door. "G'night Spike."

"'Night, Buffy."





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