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Author's Chapter Notes:
Well, here it is. I do hope you all enjoy,.
Cont’d from chapter 11............

"Sweet dreams Buffy." Leaning in, he placed a featherlike kiss to her lips then turned and left, not sparing one glance back in her direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at his studio apartment, William sat down hard and threw his head across the back of the couch. Covering his face with both hands, he began laughing insanely. Once he was able to stop, his thoughts went over the events of last night briefly.

And here you told her that she’d be cravin’ you when you were done with her.

He shook his head in defeat. Somewhere between her sweet kisses, soft skin and the sounds she made while climaxing around him, the script had flipped. He wasn’t sure when it had happened exactly, only that it did. He was sunk.

Buffy had made him ‘feel’, something that never happened… until her. That tiny slip of a woman had brought out a range of emotions for him, some foreign, some frightening, all forbidden. William wanted nothing more than to court her, Spike wanted nothing less than to possess her… all of her. And like a caveman, that primal need had driven him to take her over and over again as if to mark her territorially so no other man would dare to come near her.

She'd lured Spike out of the ‘zone’, drawn William out of hiding, and brought them both into the here and now of the moment. And ‘there’ they stayed with her, for every blissful second of their joining until exhaustion claimed their bodies for sleep.

He smiled as he remembered waking up to find himself spooning her. She held his hand against her breast, her fingers lightly intertwined overtop of his. She had made him instantly hard in that moment even as she snored.

Wonder what she’ll be thinkin’ 'bout when she wakes up. God knows she’ll be sore for a few days.

He chuckled, feeling somewhat proud of the fact that every time she sat down she’d inevitably think of him and everything they had done.

Lifting the collar of her shirt from his chest, he inhaled. Mmmm, Buffy. He quickly stood up, taking it and her sweat pants off, not wanting to taint their smell with his own so he could savor it later. Standing there naked, he gently folded then laid them on the coffee table in front of him and sat back down.

He rested his elbows on his knees, clasping both hands together between them and simply stared at the neat little pile. The image of her face twisted in pleasure flashed through his mind, making his cock twitch. He didn’t think he would ever be able to take another job without closing his eyes just to picture her face rather than look at that of whatever random woman he’d have to service.

Suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he could. Would he accidentally call out her name? That would be a bit embarrassing, not to mention he’d have one very pissed off client and then no paycheck to show for it once Lorne found out.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine being with one of his past clients again. As it played out in his mind, he nearly gagged. The mere thought held an atmosphere of betrayal so thick he could taste it, the feeling as if he were somehow cheating on Buffy... and it choked him.

He shook his head to try and clear it of everything Buffy.

“Get her out of your mind. She could never want the likes of you.”

At least I have her clothes if she never calls. It would be a bittersweet reminder of her and their passionate night together.

He decided the best thing he could do for himself right now was to get some sleep. He still had an eight-hour shift at the restaurant later that afternoon. Heading straight for his king-size bed, he decided to skip showering for now, feeling too exhausted and not quite ready to wash off the lingering scent of sex on his skin.

As he lay down, he realized Lorne would probably still be awake, taking care of some bookkeeping before leaving The-Hide-Away. Better call now.

Reaching towards his night table, he grabbed the phone and hit speed-dial. Two rings later and Lorne picked up.

"Spike, my man, how's it hanging?" He chuckled in spite of himself then coughed. "Sorry, couldn't resist. So, do I have another satisfied customer?"

"I think it's safe to say she'll be feelin’ her 'satisfaction' for a few days."

"Ha, haha…that's my boy. Cha CHING, so she'll be a repeat?" Lorne waited patiently as seconds ticked by. "Ahhhh, Spike? Something wrong?"

"I kinda screwed up... kind of, sort of... maybe."

"You went, she CAME, you conquered. What's the problem?"

"Well, remember what she said 'bout not wantin' me to stay the night?"

"Yeeeees, continue."

"See, things went SO well that when I waited for her to go to sleep, I sorta fell asleep too. I just got in about twenty minutes ago. You're not mad, are you?"

"Well, that depends. Is she upset?"

"Not really. I mean, I sorta woke her up and proceeded to...”

“Spare me the details, I get what you did.”

“Right! She fell asleep afterwards and then I slipped out."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, as long as she's happy it doesn't really matter to me WHAT you do with your free time. Just remember what I said, about how you spend your time with her."

"Been meanin’ to ask you 'bout that mate. Wha…" Interrupted before he could finish, Lorne cut him short.

"Whoop, gotta go. Got another call coming through, sorry. Call me later, we'll talk more then."

"WAIT! Will you at least tell me what she says? When she calls? I... just want to be sure she got her money's worth... you know." Yeah, right! He knew she did, what he really wanted to know is if she would mention any word about wanting to see him again.

"Sure thing, buddy. Why dontcha stop by after your shift for a drink and we'll chat. Ciao."

The receiver went dead and William sighed. Again with the warning and again he got the feeling Lorne knew something he should be telling. Hopefully he'd wheedle it out of him later. Odd that Lorne avoided the conversation whenever he brought it up. Don' know if that's a good thing or not.

Placing the phone back in its cradle, he lay on his back and closed his eyes. Thinking back to when he'd first started this whole gig and everything that led up to it, he still hoped it wouldn't be much longer until he could officially quit.

~~~~~~~~~~

William Jeffery Ivanhoe IV, though born to privilege, power and money, had been cut off by his family after he pursued what they felt was a fruitless waste of his time and efforts.

It didn’t deter his dream; rather, it fueled his goal even more to make it on his own. He would show his parents, more specifically his father that he would succeed.

Anne, his mother, had given birth to him in London. Four years later, both parents had moved to the States for the purpose of expanding their wine empire. The young boy was left under the care of his Uncle Rupert Giles, his mother's older brother. From there he was to attend private schools and then Oxford as per instructions, to follow the family tradition.

William loved his Uncle dearly. He'd been the only real present and steady father figure in his life. Naturally, there were phone calls and trips to California during the holidays and such, but the time spent there was filled with lectures on the family business and doing well in school since one day he was expected to take over the North American end of the Ivanhoe’s business so that his parents could retire and move back to England.

William would listen quietly as his father talked on and on while strolling through the vast vineyards, dutifully following behind him, replying with the expected "yes, sir" here and "no, sir" there. Once back home with Uncle Rupert, all he could do was talk about his lack of interest in any part of his father's plans for him.

His Uncle was an open-minded listener to his only nephew's every thought. Feeling sorry for the predicament of his arranged future, Rupert tried to verbally reason with the youth while still supporting his growing interest in cooking. He felt the boy was gifted, but could see nothing but discontent in his future once he was finished with college and expected to join his parents’ business.


On several occasions, Rupert wanted to share with Anne her son's extraordinary talent. However, that would have led to arguments the minute his father found out, and he felt it wouldn't be fair to William when his father stepped in to crush the young lad's dreams of becoming a chef. For now, he could only hope that William would either outgrow his love for cooking or, if not, that he would be strong enough to stand up to his father when the time came.

Rupert allowed William the run of the house from the time he came to live with him. The household staff instantly fell in love with the blue-eyed, curly brown-haired boy as he toddled from the grounds to the stables, asking a zillion questions as children often do, always delighted to explain. His thirst for knowledge was insatiable and they admired the boy's willingness to learn and to 'help' in their chores as they provided instruction. From dusting bookshelves to saddling horses, William wanted to do it all. Maids and footmen alike all agreed that he would one day grow to be the finest gentleman England had ever produced.

It was the kitchen however, that William loved the most. He couldn't get enough of the fresh smell of bread baking in the oven or the sound of beef as it sizzled in the frying pan laced with onions and mushrooms. The "why's" and "how's" were answered with patience and love for the boy's curiosity. As time went on, they allowed him to 'help' prepare meals almost daily before having to shoo him out to dress for dinner.

By age twelve, William's sole interest centered on the kitchen and everything that went on inside. At that time, Rupert had found a lady-friend, Jenny, with whom he was quite taken, and so, he hired a full time chef to see that every meal she joined him for was perfect.

William still remembered the day the Frenchman 'Jean Philippe' had arrived with his haughty attitude and mile high white chef's hat. He commanded the staff in dictatorship style, insisting the 'best' of every item be brought to him fresh from the market or he simply could not work.

The tween had walked in, two hours before Jenny was to arrive, to help in the preparation of the evening’s meal to find a short, red-faced man barking orders and demanding his 'special' knives be brought to him 'or else'. One hour later found the obnoxious middle-aged man with his pants charmed off by the youth and forever dubbed 'Uncle John'.

Over the years, Uncle John had schooled him on the finer points of taste, proper preparation and above all, presentation of food. Eventually, he was allowed to oversee certain areas of preparation for special, catered events. It especially thrilled William that when his Uncle wed Jenny, the meal was to be supervised by him with 'no questions asked'.

Shortly after the beautiful spring wedding, he finished his Advanced Supplementary Level exams. The celebratory party his parents insisted on throwing for him should have been a happy occasion, but not for William. He’d worn a smile, was cordial to his guests and for appearance sake seemed to be having a good time. Both Rupert and ‘Uncle John’ could see through the façade. They knew that he not only had broken up with Cecily two weeks prior, but that he dreaded the thought of packing his bags in the fall for Oxford. After much debate, Rupert and Jean had come up with a plan.

Four days later, after William’s parents returned to California, Rupert found William lounging under an old oak in the gardens, face buried deep in Shakespeare.

“Ah, William, my boy, there you are.”

“Uncle Rupert.” He nodded politely and promptly closed the book as his Uncle came to sit on the bench next to him.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.” He paused to take off his glasses, preparing to clean them while relaying his plan.

“Since you’re cleanin’ your spectacles, I presume it’s not somethin’ pleasant?”

He really did make William nervous every time he did that. Only two times could he recall his Uncle beginning a conversation with that small act where it had turned out to be something positive. The first had been about the gentlemanly responsibilities concerning the birds and bees, which was followed by a trip to the apothecary for prophylactics. Rupert had been astute about the eventuality of what his nephew would be engaging in when he had met Cecily. The second time came when he announced his intentions of asking Jenny to be his wife.

“As a matter of fact, ahem, quite the opposite.” Placing his glasses back on his face he continued. “It appears that you have been quite down as of late and understandably so. It saddened me to see your relationship with Miss Underwood go sour.”

“We’ve already had that discussion, Uncle. Bloody bint got what she deserved.”

“William! I’ll remind you not to speak in such a manner about a young lady, even if Cecily is a... ‘bint’ as you so aptly put it. I agree with your, eh... assessment where her, shall we say, indiscretions are concerned. Your handling of the situation was nevertheless... Oh dear, allow me to start over, this is not how I intended for this conversation to go. Now see here. My point is that you’ve been in a slump ever since and it has only gotten noticeably worse since finishing school. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t know why either.”

William interrupted him. “I know what you’re going to say Uncle, so spare me the...”

“No, no you don’t. Now if you will let me finish.” He waited until William had nodded and apologized.

“Right then. Now I know you have no desire to attend Oxford or to take over the winery for your parents. If you did, your life would be, shall we say, quite dull and... unfulfilling I’d wager. I’m about to propose an arrangement that I think will be to your liking.”

William quirked an eyebrow. This was certainly going to be interesting. Maybe it was good news.

“After Jean and I had a little discussion, we’ve come up with a plan to aid you in your... aspiration.”

“Aspiration?”

“Yes. If you still desire to become a chef.”

“I do, I want to, you know that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He was practically on the edge of his seat in anticipation of what his Uncle would say next.

“Of course. Now, there is NO way I can convince your parents to allow you to attend culinary school, however, if I didn’t know you went there instead of attending Oxford, well then... do you understand where I’m coming from?”

“Oh, Uncle Rupert! You mean it? Really mean it?” Hope filled his face along with astonishment at this news. It was almost too good to be true. “But HOW? I mean, wouldn’t they... how?”

“You leave the details to me. Jean and I are handling it and that is all you ever need know. Other than that, I fear I may be ostracized once you arrive in California.”

“I don’t understand.”

“In other words, I can only deceive them for so long. And you WILL have to make your appearance in California eventually. I can only hope that once you are there, they will see reason and spare you the leniency you deserve as a man with his own destiny to forge. If not, then it is entirely up to you what to do from there. So, how say you, William, would you attend Le Cordon Bleu if given the chance? It would have to be the London branch of the school I’m afraid, but...”

William never gave him the chance. He launched himself into his Uncle’s arms, nearly sobbing his thanks over and over before realizing they were two grown British men engaged in a hug. Pulling back seconds later, they finished the hug with semi-straight faces and gentlemanly hard pats on the back.

“Yes, well. I presumed that you would accept the offer.” Rupert loved the boy dearly as if he were his own son, and as such no longer cared what his parents thought. “You know, I rather relish the idea of still having you around the house while you attend the school. As an Uncle, I rather feel at times like you are a son to me, and as such enjoy having you around as well as seeing you happy.”

William just smiled.

“I love you too, Uncle Rupert. And I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

“I’m sure you won’t, dear boy, and I... love you, too. You’re like a son to me. I’ve always admired not only your talent, but your drive and dedication as well. Jean and I are both very proud. And I dare say but you do make a splendid Beef Wellington.”

Both men chuckled. It was a private joke that Jean felt his preparation of said dish was superior to any one chef in the world, until Rupert had tasted William’s.

As if trying to convey a sense of secrecy, Rupert leaned in to tell his nephew one more thing.

“And for the record, however much I disapprove of vulgarity, I was quite chuffed when the school called to tell me the exact words you had addressed Miss Underwood with; she was a selfish, boorish, insufferable... bint.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now back in the States, William not only felt like a foreigner, but his parents were complete strangers to him as well. They had the nerve to tell him as if he were still a child, of what his ‘planned’ future consisted of, and fully expected him to comply with their plans without question.

A hot headed and willful William finally rose to the surface, refusing to be molded to any purpose but his own and promptly left his parents’ estate with what savings he had. He knew it wasn't much, but it would allow him to live by himself until he could get work and continue to see his dream through of having his own restaurant. He would show them.

The first 10 months of independence had found him living in a studio apartment in the outskirts of LA where he’d found a job cooking at Grisanti’s. It wasn't long before his funds were being consumed rapidly by the essentials of daily living. Feeling depressed one day, he’d sat down with his friend Lorne trying to drown himself in whiskey and discussed the possibility of giving up and giving in to his parent's desires to run the winery. He’d gotten got so drunk that he got up in front of the crowd in Lorne's club that night to belt out Billy Idol’s ‘Rebel Yell’. He could still remember Lorne’s amused look as he staggered from the stage.

Lorne informed him there would no doubt be some compromises to be made on his self-imposed journey, but if he stuck to it, he would be successful, no two ways about it. What he didn't tell him, was what sacrifices and all of what he would have to endure to attain his dream. For his friend's sake, he chose to remain silent rather than upset 'The Powers that Be' and disturb the domino effect that fate had already set in motion for him. Lorne's 'gift' was a blessing and a bane that constantly needed to be tempered with wisdom for fear of bringing any harm to those who sought his help.

“Wha’s the possibility of me workin' for you, mate? Ya know, every once in awhile, just to pay the bills?” William knew he was taking a chance by asking this of his friend. The thought of reducing himself to becoming a hooker felt demeaning, but it was money…quick and good money, the very thing he needed. William viewed sex as an act between two people that were in love, but he would do it if it meant he could build his savings back up and buy Grisanti’s once Antonio was ready to sell and retire. He’d held his breath and waited for Lorne’s refusal.

“I have no doubt you could do it, William, but are you willing to put up with all that you know it entails?” Lorne could ‘read’ into his friend’s very mind and saw the contempt he held at the thought of crawling back to his parents.

“Jus’ till I have Antonio’s askin’ price.” He slumped back in his chair. “I’d rather live with that than to go back and live a life of my parent's miserable makin'.”

“Tell ya what, since we are friends I’m going to make an allowance I wouldn’t normally, but only because I do see you succeeding in the future. I can arrange for you to have work and I’ll see to it that it’s nothing or no one you couldn’t or wouldn’t want to handle. I’ve been meaning to take on a more, shall we say, legitimate business that I can grow old and retire from. So here’s what I propose.”

Lorne agreed to hire William as an escort, give him an unheard of fifty percent cut from every ‘job’ with the understanding that he wouldn’t touch the money until the time came time to buy Grisanti’s. Then Lorne would go in halves with him and run the business side of the restaurant while William took over as head chef. It would only take them as long as Antonio had planned for retiring, two years, for William to take the right amount of ‘jobs’ to seal the deal.

And Spike was born.

~~~~~~~~~~

Late morning found Buffy awake with a feeling of pure contentment humming through her body. She started to stretch with a smile on her face until the soreness between her legs had her memory come hurtling back like a slap in the face.

“Oh GooooOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!” She pulled her pillow over her face and started laughing her head off, the shaking from it jarring her over sensitized flesh down there. Once her composure returned, she sat up with a wide goofy grin and just knew it was going to be a very good day no matter how much her bottom ached. There was no use in her feeling embarrassed as she thought about everything she and Spike had done last night. He had completely rocked her world in every way possible and even created a few new ways she would think about later. Springing out of bed like a cat, she pranced into her bathroom to turn on the radio.

A song had just finished fading out when the next one started.

---That hunk of salty goodness was worth every sore muscle in our ass. So when are we gonna call him again?”

Ooooh no. This was a one-time deal. I got exactly what I wanted; I am not going to jinx myself.

---And what do you plan to do the next time we get horny, hmmm? Call Riley?

Don’t know, don’t care. Go away, you’re spoiling my good mood.

---Alright, just remember what he said, you know the part about being in our system and craving him? Well, we’ll just see what you do when the time cums.

What EVERRRRR!

Turning the shower on, she hummed lightly to the tune on the radio as it played Breathless by The Corrs.

---‘... the slightest touch and I feel weak...’

Uh oh. The bitch was back, and singing in her head.

---‘... I’m losing the will to try. Can’t hide it. Can’t fight it...’

Aaaaaaaaaargh. Well, it is a good tune. She turned up the volume full blast and began singing out loud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy had decided to stop by the gallery to see how Anya was doing, and if she wanted to grab some lunch. She walked in through the side door and headed straight for her office before going to find her friend, still humming the tune that was now stuck in her head since her shower. She walked through the door and headed straight for her coffee maker, never noticing Anya who was seated with her feet propped up on her desk, reading a magazine.

Anya looked up from her position at Buffy, curiously watching her bounce to her humming.

“What are you doi…” Then she saw Buffy’s face.

“OH, MY, GOD!” As Buffy looked in her direction, Anya’s shocked expression went comically wide as her eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.

Hearing her voice, Buffy turned and wasn’t surprised at Anya’s unusual position.

“What?” She felt nervous suddenly.

“You got laid!” Anya squealed it out like a fact rather than a question. She watched Buffy’s face go pink. Still, she kept looking closer and closer at her.

“What? I so did not... ok, fine. Did you take mind reading 101 or something?” She ‘humphed’ and turned her attention back to her coffee, trying hard to appear as nonchalant as possible. Anya got up and kept staring as she walked right over to grab her shoulder, turning her as if trying to read Buffy’s face some more. There is no way she’ll get this out of me.

Satisfied with her assessment, Anya released her grip.

“You had orgasms… lots of them! About time, way to go, Riley!” She raised her fist in mock triumph then crossed her arms over her chest, smiling only seconds before the shock returned to her face.

“Not Riley! Buffy, you… spill it, sister.” She had the look of someone who wasn’t going to walk away without an explanation.

“Good God, woman, are you the devil?” Buffy couldn’t believe her friend’s power of perception. Either she really was psychic or Buffy reeked of the sin she had engaged in. She raised her arms to signal her to stop.

“Okay, fine. I got laid, I had many orgasms and no, it wasn’t Riley. There, happy?”

“Not till I get all the juicy details. Aside from that, what ARE you doing here; you're supposed to be on vacation while I make more money.” Now she was back to being the Anya she knew so well.

“I came to see how you were doing and if you felt like going to lunch.”

“Oh… well in that case, yes, let’s. Your treat I assume, seeing how your many orgasms have left you with a feeling of generosity towards your friend and top employee? But I still want the full scoop you… you… you harlot, you. I’m almost jealous, you know, I mean look at you.” She waved her hands in the air around Buffy to make her point. “You’re all… glowy and what not from all the… let’s leave now, I can’t wait to hear how this mystery man actually made the ice queen melt.”

Buffy burst out laughing. She is so off base about who the harlot really was.

“On one condition though. I give you the details BUT… I’m not giving you his identity.” She felt a sudden urge to protect Spike. She knew Anya could probably care less if she knew that Spike was for hire or that Buffy had stooped to hire an escort. It was more about Anya’s reaction if she found out after she gave the specifics of their shared night that worried her. With her carefree attitude towards sex, Anya might ask for Lorne’s number to see how good Spike was for herself. She may be stingy when it came to her money, but she didn’t want to risk it considering the value Anya placed on orgasms. If she knew how amazing her Spike really was, and that he was readily available, well… she wouldn’t put it past her friend. They may share many things, but she was unwilling to share Spike. Wait a minute, since when is Spike my anything?

"Who cares WHAT his name is, I just wanna know HOW he did it!"

Of course she does. Ten minutes and a car ride later...

Sitting in the small coffee shop, Buffy relayed only the highlights in between bites of her turkey and cheese on rye. She didn’t tell her about the ‘break in’ or anything she and Spike had talked about. But far be it from her not to rattle off all the taboo things they’d done, beaming with pride every time Anya would gasp or choke on her lunch in surprise or envy.

"First contact? THE final frontier? You? Whoa, Buffy. Good on you, or rather, in you. So did you like it, was it was good?"

"Would it be too crude to say... Oh yeah!"

"Please. You know how I feel about it. So, are you going to see him again?"

And there it was; the million dollar question. She decided not to think on it too much lest the slut come back to argue with her again. So she stuck to her original decision.

“No, I don’t think so.” A hint of sadness came with her answer.

“WHAT? Are you crazy? The ONE man who brings you not only your first real orgasm, but several? Buffy, you’ve met a man most women would kill for, so I don’t understand.”

“I mean, just because we clicked in the bedroom doesn’t mean there would be any ‘clicking’ outside of it.”

“Well at least keep him as a ‘fucking’ friend.”

As appealing the idea was; it wasn’t realistic. Huh, realistic. She still had yet to sort out what was and wasn’t realistic about last night. Shrugging off the thought, she replied.

“Uhhh, I don’t think he’d be interested. It was more of a one night stand really.” Yup, and if she tried hard enough, she just might convince herself of that. Spike had already talked about a next time, and to make matters worse, had gotten to her on a frighteningly emotional level. Something she couldn’t afford in her life with any man, especially him because of what he did for a living.

“From everything you’ve just told me I’d be surprised.” Full of sarcasm, she continued. “I mean, the guy does all, all... THAT, and wouldn’t be interested? Come on Buffy, even you’re not THAT dense.”

“Maybe. I guess. I don’t know, doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t have his number and he doesn’t have mine.” Not a lie, not a lie.

“Oh, I see. What about Riley?”

“Yeah, uhm, about that. I’m going to take him to dinner soon and break up with him. I’m just not sure what reason I’m going to give him. I knew I was going to dump him last Sunday after I left his apartment, but...”

“Tell him the truth.”

Buffy gripped the table and leaned forward.

“Are you insane? I can’t tell him the truth, he’s a-a-a... sweet guy, he doesn’t deserve...”

“Keep your britches on Miss hot pants; I’m on your side. Personally, I never liked him. There’s something about him that... just doesn’t... isn’t right. Anyway, so when is the break up?”

“Well, as soon as I get back from my ‘business trip’. I’ll call then, ya know, not until I get back, to help in the set up of me dumping him. He expects me to call him almost every day, so when I don’t...”

“Smart. I agree. Give him a silent heads up you’re no longer interested.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m going to talk to Willow about how to do it smoothly. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but...”

“Enough said. Now, tell me again about the scarves, cuz whoa, bondage is good for the soul.”

Oh my God. It caught her off guard that Anya had said something so similar to what Spike had. Shaking her head clear of the thought, she giggled, and did her best to remain in a light mood as she went over the details of that unforgettable moment.

After dropping Anya back off at the gallery, it was time to call Lorne and let him know she was happy with the ‘service’ he’d provided her. Yes, the ‘guy he had in mind for her’ was perfect; a little too perfect.

Once she got home, she knew her mind would begin the struggle to figure out what had occurred, if anything, between her and Spike in those final moments they were together. If she could just put it off a little while longer... Since it wouldn’t hurt to hang onto her good mood, she decided to go shopping, even if she didn’t need anything. Yes, that would keep her distracted and away from the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night as Buffy readied herself for bed, she couldn’t help but stare at the black denim and ripped t-shirt that were still lying on her floor. She almost couldn’t bring herself to go over and even touch them, let alone pick them up. She knew the minute she would she’d...

She did it anyway, first the t-shirt. She picked up the torn piece of clothing and went for his jeans next. She held them for a moment before bringing them to her nose, inhaling deeply. Spike.

Just then she looked up to see herself in the mirror. Staring back at her was one woman, desperate for one man. Desperate for what she’d already had, paid for less than twenty four hours ago. She almost didn’t recognize herself for a moment.

I shouldn’t want him; it was just, just...

One night. A night that never should have happened, could never happen again. So why did she want it too?

Who was she kidding? As the scent of his clothes, of him filled her senses, her body quivered. As sore as she was, her body craved it, craved him. It was just a business arrangement.

---Keep telling yourself that, and you just might believe it.

She didn’t feel like arguing with herself. Why was the slut even here? Had she come to somehow rationalize that maybe Spike did...

No, that’s all it was for him. She couldn’t think about it; the way he’d made her feel. There were parts that seemed so real, like he was... with her... with her.

She sighed in defeat. There was no denying what she thought had gone on between them; a connection. A connection that ran deeper than she’d ever experienced with any of the men she’d chosen to be with from her past. Still, he didn’t, couldn’t feel the same way, could he?

“This is ridiculous, I’m being ridiculous.”

Even as she said this, she climbed into bed still clutching his clothes and turned out the lights, not even fully aware of the fact she now held them close to her face, just to keep his scent close.

As her eyes closed, she clutched the material closer and sighed heavily, still exhausted from the prior night and her own conflict over what exactly happened between them. Now wasn’t the time to think about it, she needed sleep. The scent of his clothes surrounded her, wrapping her in a blanket of comfort of his familiar smell ... Spike.

She drifted off, to a place that held only images of him. Of the pleasures he’d brought her body, of the feelings he’d filled her with, where she belonged to him, and he belonged to her.

Little did she know how he would continue to plague her dreams in the nights to come... before she could no longer take it.

A/N; Reviews please???





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