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A/N: I'm baaack! Hiatus sucked, so I've finally returned. I'm on vacation now, so I can finally get down to some good, solid writing. Hope you enjoy this chapter, it might be a bit odd, as my skills have grown a little rusty. Reviews will serve as oil ^.^

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Buffy woke with a start, the screeching of her alarm clock making the small figure curled up against her stir restlessly. Buffy hastily slapped the button to silence the shrill scream, then tumbled sleepily out of bed, her goofy smile surviving even the indignity of getting one foot caught in the sheets and falling flat on her face. Clearing her throat, she carefully climbed back up onto her feet, gently placing the offending article over Dawn’s slim shoulders.

It was only while she was in the shower that the realization of what happened today made the smile fade from her lips. Spike and Xander would be leaving tomorrow at midday, so this would be their final full day at the hotel. It was a bittersweet thought: while she loved being in such close quarters with Spike all the time, at least when he’d left their relationship could be made public knowledge. Provided, of course, that he still wanted a relationship.

That thought made her pause while she was drying herself off. What if he didn’t want a relationship outside of the hotel? Despite the way he seemed to be behaving at the moment, she remembered with a sudden sense of foreboding that he’d only come to the hotel to relax after his recent heartbreak. What if this was just a holiday fling for him, a way to forget Lilah? By the time she had finished dressing in her charcoal-grey suit, she was feeling irritable and not a little afraid of confronting Spike.

Those fears weren’t helped when Wesley opened the door for her and Jonathon and Andrew rushed out of the kitchen. For a moment she thought that they’d done something awful like give Spike and Xander a second round of food poisoning, but then they began to talk with breathless excitement and her initial dread turned into a knot of cold, hard foreboding that settled in the pit of her stomach.

“Buffy! What do you want us to make those gorgeous boys for their last supper.” Andrew’s face became dreamy for a moment. Xander Harris could wash my feet – or any other part of me, for that matter – any time he liked. “It’s got to be a fab meal, but could you ask if they’d prefer caviar or asparagus as a starter?”

Buffy forced herself to smile, but it was a weak effort. “Why don’t you ask them?”

Andrew gasped. “After spending the last hour slaving away in the kitchen and with no chance to freshen up? No thank you.”

Buffy couldn’t help but give a proper smile at that and Andrew, sensing weakness, squealed and gave her a hug. “Thank you, ducks! You’re a star.”

The two disappeared back into the kitchen, heads together and hands waving as they argued with good-natured heat. Buffy heard Wesley smothering something that sounded suspiciously like a snort and she turned to him, one eyebrow raised threateningly. He blinked innocently, but his lips quivered.

“Not one word.” Buffy menaced him with a stabbing finger.

“Of course not, ducks.” He bowed, face perfectly straight, and vanished through into the massage parlor, though Buffy couldn’t help but wonder what for. When she heard a familiar giggle, however, she realized that Willow was cleaning in there and that Wesley had probably just related the ‘ducks’ incident. Charming.

Sighing with resignation, Buffy turned towards the hallway and walked straight into a hard but unfamiliar chest. Looking up into Xander’s amused eyes, she blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you coming!”

Unable to resist, he smirked cheekily. “That’s okay, Buff, I’m not really a screamer.”

Her cheeks glowed fire-engine red as she ducked her head, taking a step back and freezing as Spike wandered into the room, hair tousled and eyes still deliciously heavy from sleep. He stopped short as he caught sight of the two of them standing so close together, and Buffy was suddenly acutely aware of Xander’s steadying hands on her shoulders. He seemed to have the same thought, because he quickly released her and backed away, grinning nervously.

Spike’s eyes narrowed into a glare and his friend gave a jerky wave. “Spike, my man, how’re you doing? We were just talking about… uh, never mind.”

Slowly, one of Spike’s eyebrows began to climb until he was directing a menacing but somehow curious expression at the pair. His voice was deadly soft. “What was that you were discussin’ in here, sorry?”

Xander coughed, mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘shit, I’m so screwed’ and sidled quickly out the door, leaving Buffy to face Spike alone. Rolling her eyes at the chivalry of men, she stomped across the room, hooked both hands around the pale Englishman’s neck and pulled his lips down to hers.

The instant she kissed him, he forgot all about the hot surge of jealousy that had stabbed at his chest when he saw her joking so intimately with Xander, forgot even the bitter parting of the following day; he just groaned, pulling her closer and opening her mouth with his own, plundering the warm, wet cavern with his tongue. She cooed in answer, tangling her fingers in his hair. They stayed like that for a long few minutes, absorbed in the passion crackling between them, until finally she pulled away, panting for breath.

Looking up into his dazed eyes, she grinned. “Now, Mr. Giles, would you like caviar or asparagus as a starter at your final meal this evening?”

Spike stared down at her, eyes dark with lust, voice gravelly from a mixture of need and sleepiness. “If I choose one, can I have you for dessert, kitten?”

Buffy’s breath hissed between her teeth as the erotic imagery flashed through her mind. “If you ask nicely.”

Without dropping her gaze, he slid to his knees in front of her. “Please.” The word was whisper-soft, and she had to strain to catch it, so much so that she didn’t feel him move until his hand began to slide up over her leg. “Please.” Slightly louder, and she caught her breath as he lightly stroked the sensitive skin behind her knee. “Please.” Almost swallowed by a groan this time as his fingers found the top of her suspender belt, that she’d donned subconsciously that morning. “Please.”

Spike watched her eyes flutter closed as her breath became heavy panting, a low moan sounding in her arched throat. His fingers skimmed her hip bone, sliding down and in, encountering… nothing? He gave a low growl, eyes flashing. “No knickers? Bad girl, Buffy.”

That made her whine, followed by a whimper as his finger tapped her clit then slipped further down. “What’s this? Somebody’s gettin’ a bit wet here, kitten.” His husky voice made her spread her legs as much as she could under the skirt, his caresses making her so hot she could hardly stand it.

“And so bloody hot.” The next moment he had suddenly impaled her on two of his long fingers, making her squeal. He grinned. “Shhh, baby, don’ want anyone hearin’ now, do you?” He began to thrust his fingers into her, humming his pleasure. “You’re so tight, Buffy, feel so good around my fingers.” His pace increased as she began to tremble. “Go on, kitten, come for me. Know you want it. Wanna feel you squeeze me. Do it, let go, yeah, tha’s it!”

His voice was like dark chocolate: velvety smooth, sinful and addictive. She could feel it coming, heat rising in her limbs, her body tightening almost unbearably until suddenly she burst, shuddering in wave upon wave of sweet rapture. She dimly heard him groan his own pleasure, and was amazed that the sight and sound and feel of her own ecstasy could bring on his own release. She came down slowly as he stood, rearranging her mussed clothing and smiling tenderly.

She looked up into his eyes and her doubts melted away. Then reality set in, and she blushed a bright red, mortified. “Spike!” She hissed, “Anyone could have walked in!”

He smirked, curling his tongue behind his teeth in the wicked gesture that never failed to get her hot, and she was suddenly aware of a trickle of warm moisture oozing down her thigh. She shifted uncomfortably and his face became serious. He lifted her chin with his clean hand, looking pleadingly into her eyes.

“I jus’ wanted you to have this, before I go, so you won’ forget me. I won’ be able to forget you if I try, kitten. You’re in m’ blood now, an’ I’m addicted to you. The way you look.” His eyes raked over her slightly disheveled clothes. “The way you smell.” He leaned close, inhaling her vanilla scent. “The way you sound.” She giggled when he nuzzled the side of her neck. “The way you feel.” His hands mapped the curves of her body. “The way you taste.” He raised his sticky fingers to his mouth, suckling at her essence.

She looked down, overwhelmed for a moment, before clutching him to her in a fierce hug. Blinking back tears, she gave him a wobbly smile. “So, caviar’s alright then?”

He chuckled. “Caviar’s fine.” His face grew grave again. “I know we’ve only known each other a few days, Buffy, an’ I know it feels crazy. Bloody Hell, it probably is crazy, but I can’ go unless I know. You wan’ somethin’ outta this, somethin’ more than just a quick fling, right? I couldn’ stand it if that was all you wanted, don’ tell me that, please!”

Looking into his suddenly bright eyes, she smiled gently and reached up to stroke his face. “Of course I want more than that, you great butthead! I thought that maybe you didn’t, that this was just a way to forget Lilah.”

His face tightened for a minute, but then he relaxed and smiled. “Silly bint, doesn’ know I’m half crazy for her even after all that.” She poked her tongue out at him and he smiled. Content, she began to turn away when his voice stopped her. “An’ Buffy? Butthead?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “Yeah.”

“Butthead?”

“Yeah, butthead. You got a problem with that?”

“Nope.” Then, under his breath, “Barmy cow.”

“Dork.”

“Bitch.”

“Vampire.”

“Angel.”

“Whipped.”

“You know it, baby.”

The day passed in a blur, sometimes moving too quickly, the moments she spent apart from him agonizingly slowly. When at last the whole staff gathered in the living room and toasted their guests for the last time, Buffy couldn’t help but let slip a few tears. Smiling through them, she stepped forward and beckoned Anya and Willow to her side. She cleared her throat and silence fell.

For a moment she thought about abandoning her job and her new friends, flinging herself into Spike’s arms right then and there, declaring her claim official and running off into the sunset. Then she thought about Wesley’s dry humour, Willow’s friendly openness, Anya’s endearing bluntness and Tara’s sweet smile. These people would make her pain easier to endure, even if they couldn’t admit to it until Spike had left.

Drawn from her thoughts by the feel of inquisitive, and in some cases derisive, eyes on her, she turned to the two men, one blonde, blue-eyed and pale like a Greek statue, the picture of agile masculinity, the other stockier, darker and more open; she had come to like both in their short stay, and wished passionately that it could be extended a little longer. With that in mind, she smiled her brilliant smile and began to speak, her soft voice vibrant with emotion.

“Spike, Xander, it has been an honour to meet and get to know both of you. We hope that in the future you’ll remember to call the Hotel Elise should you need accommodation; we’d be happy to have you back. These are small reminders of our gratitude.” Willow and Anya handed the two men the elegant, expensive customized watches that bore the hotel insignia and their names. “Come back to us soon.”

Her eyes caught and held Spike’s, and the unspoken message hung in the air between them. Come back to me.





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