There's a Place by facingthesun

Chapter 12

“Sunnydale might be tiny mile-wise, but we have a hell of a lot shoved into our tiny town. We’ve got rolling hills, flat plains, a desert—hell, even a sandy beach. You’ll get a taste of everything here, cutie.” Spike opened the passenger door for Buffy and waited impatiently for her reaction. “Well…what do you think? It’s nice, yes?”

“Oh, let me see.” Not aware that she had to pass immediate judgment on his car, Buffy climbed into the old black De Soto. “It is nice,” she said, running her hands along the vinyl seat. “Clearly you’ve babied this car.”

“I guess you can say that. I’ve restored her piece by piece.”

“So, you’re a car guy...”

“You got a problem with that?” he asked, kneeling at the gaping door. “Was Riley a car guy?”

“No, he liked sports.”

“Sports! What a bunch of bloody fools. Competitive cutthroats in those ridiculous short pants chasing around those blasted, uh, round balls--.”

“You like sports, don’t you?” Buffy laughed, tickled by Spike’s exaggerated disgust. “Honey, I won’t hold it against you if you have something in common with Riley.”

“You sure? Maybe just for giggles, you could jot down a list of the bastard’s likes and dislikes. I might need a heads up in the future.”

“There’s no need for a list.”

“Alright, if you say so. But once you learn of my soft spot for Manchester United you’ve got to promise that you won’t head for the hills.”

Oblivious of the team that he was speaking of, Buffy flashed him a smile and shook her head. “I won’t leave, even if you have soft spots.”

“Ah, you’re an angel, an ignorant angel for not knowing of the best soccer team in England, but an angel nevertheless.” Getting to his feet, he leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Now that we’ve got all that out of the way, shall we get going?”

“Yes please. I want to see some sights before the sun goes down.”

With a nod, Spike slammed the passenger’s door shut and ran to the driver’s seat. “You know, you’re looking pretty hot there, riding shotgun,” Spike commented as he backed out of the driveway. “It’s a good sign when my car and girl look so fantastic together. We must be written in the stars or some other rot line like that.”

“Yes, me, you, and your De Soto. We are all totally meant to be,” Buffy snorted, rolling her eyes playfully. “Hey, wasn’t I going to sit in the middle next to you? I can move over…”

“Stay put, we’ll probably get out soon anyway. Meanwhile, feel free to fiddle with the radio. All I ask is that you keep the pop bands to a minimum unless you’d like to see my head spin. And if the wind bothers you, I can roll up the windows.”

“I like the wind and as for the radio,” she scooted forward to press the buttons, floating between each of the preset stations. “What kind of music are you into if you don’t like the popular kind?”

“Oh, so there’s no other option? It’s bubble gum or silence, is that what you’re saying? On second thought, leave the radio and check the backseat. I have some CDs that you can thumb through. See if anything strikes your fancy.”

“I’ll look, but I really doubt that my fancy will be stroked—or, um, stricken, I mean.” Feeling slightly lame, Buffy unbuckled her seatbelt and folded her body over the seat with her butt up in the air. “What am I looking for, a case or something else?”

“It’s a case, pet. A black one.”

“I don’t see it.”

“It’s there, I know it.”


“Check underneath, it might’ve fallen…”

“You could’ve told me that it was under the seat the entire time,” Buffy said, hugging the heavy case to her chest as she returned to her seat.

“What? I didn’t know where it was.”

“You must be talented, being able to drive and check out my ass at the same time.” Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she flipped through his music collection. “It’s a good thing that you didn’t crash your car.”

“Oh…you saw that?”

“The staring? Yes, so you can’t deny it.”

“Hell, nothing passes by you, does it?”

“Nope. No way, mister. So, how’s this CD? Any good?”

“It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself. Why’d you pick on that one?”

“Because it’s pretty,” she explained, pointing to the art on the top of the disk. “It makes me think, ‘Why would a big bad guy like Spike own a CD that’s covered in such a pretty floral pattern?’”

“You think that I’m a bad guy? I’m flattered.” Chuckling, he took the CD from her hands and popped it into the stereo.

“Isn’t that what you want me to think, Spike?” Buffy teased, putting emphasis on his name. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, what’s wrong with your given name? I like the name William--.”

“But you don’t like Spike? Is it still a tag only suitable for some sort of guard dog? Because Buffy’s such a common name, you know, right up there with Joan and Veruca…”

“Hey, we aren’t talking about me, William. I like my name.”

“Do you really? I’d be downright suicidal if I were you.”

“I like my name,” Buffy repeated, finding it hard to keep a straight face. “It makes me feel unique…special. How many Buffys have you met?”

“Just one and I don’t care to meet another. She alone is almost too much for me to handle. Just how many Spikes have you come across, kitten?”

“Point taken, but I didn’t make up my unique name. Mine was given to me.”

“Yes, but--.”

“And also, you can go by whatever name you like, it won’t change anything. You’d be the same to me.”

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, yeah?”

“Now there’s a comment for a typical bad ass to make,” Buffy smirked, shifting in her seat, wanting to see his facial expressions as he drove.

“I’ve been elevated to a bad ass now?”

“I’d really like to know how you became Spike. And why Spike and not Butch?”

“Or Fido, you mean? I don’t know…Spike, it just sounded right.”

“It fit?”

“Yeah it did, actually,” he answered, scratching his brow with his pinky finger. “We’re almost to the beach, you want to stop?”

“But you didn’t tell me why you hate William…”

“We can continue our talk on the beach, how’s that sound?”

“Great,” Buffy answered, staying silent until he parked the car.

“I should keep a blanket in my trunk.”

“Why? Do you take all the girls out for some private conversation on the beach?”

“Well, no. I just think that it’d be nice at a time like this, Little Miss Funny.”

“You’re just worried that we’ll get your car sandy.”

“That’s not—wait, you’re actually one hundred percent correct,” Spike said, shielding his eyes from the sun. “But if worst comes to worst, I’ll have you vacuum the upholstery.”

“Fine, I can do that. That sounds fair to me. If it gets that sandy, I’ll vacuum your car.”

“Could you throw in a free wash too?”

“Don’t press your luck. So, you were going to tell me more about yourself…”

“Oh, yes, our name game. I was hoping that you’d forgotten.”

“Nope,” Buffy said, taking off her shoes and spreading her legs over the sand. “You should take off your shoes. Get some sand between your toes.”

“No thank you. Somehow I don’t enjoy the feeling of grit between my toes.”

“You’re no fun,” Buffy joked, knocking into his side. “You can spill whenever you’re ready, sweetie.”

“Well…first off, the sun is burning my bleeding eyeballs.” Spike turned so his body ran along hers but in the opposite direction. “Do you recall much of what Harm said? Knowing her, I’m positive that she let some incriminating remarks slip out into the open.”

“Incriminating remarks?”

“You know, about my…awkward high school years. I guess you can say that I was quite the nerd…”


“Don’t make fun,” he said, pinching up a tiny bit of sand and tossing it at the knee of her jeans. “Picture the nastiest case scenario and I can promise you that my William days weren’t too far off. Harmony knew me then and she wouldn’t give me a second’s glance. In fact, most didn’t until I was in college.”

“So, you were an ugly nerdy duckling that woke up exceptionally gorgeous days before your freshmen year? Thank God for secondary education if it has that kind of affects on people--.”

“I wish, pet, but there was a lot more effort needed on my part. But that’s all there is to say. Here ends our name game. William died long ago. I don’t feel like him anymore, so why should I go by his name?”

“I guess that does make sense…”

“Are you sure? I’m up for more questioning if your curiosities haven’t been met.”

“I’m sure, Spike.”

“I should be pleased, but whatever will we talk about now? I don’t have anymore dirty laundry to air out.”

“We can talk about stuff that doesn’t involve deep dark secrets, like…where did you say that you worked again?”

“I didn’t, but that doesn’t matter now because I’m between jobs at the moment. Don’t you know how to pick ‘em, love? Sadly, you won’t be making a sugar daddy out of me—not that I wouldn’t if I could, mind you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that I’m not looking for a sugar daddy. And since we’ve moved on to confessing about money, I’ll tell you that I’m between jobs myself. Let’s have three cheers for the unemployed!”

“Rah, rah, bloody rah,” Spike said, his lack of enthusiasm bringing a smile to Buffy’s face. “We’re a sad lot, me and you. Two pitiful losers without a regular nine to five.”

“But think of all the extra time we have on our hands,” Buffy pointed out coyly. “We can use it to get to know each other better.”

“Ah, I see…”

Edging closer, she turned her body so they could sit side-by-side. “Spike, why come to the beach if you spend the entire time avoiding the view? The sun isn’t that bright and it’s a little strange to sit here facing the parking lot. Unless I really misjudged your love for your car…”

“For your information, I’m not here to look at the beach. Some sand, rocks, and waves pale in comparison to the view that I’m looking.”

“Baby, I’m concerned,” she whispered into his ear as she hugged his left arm. “Do you think that there’s a car lovers anonymous that we could enroll you in? You might be in need of some professional help--.”

“Tease away, but my eyes haven’t been on my car and you bloody well know it.”

“Oh? Oh, I see...” Buffy let out little whimper as he drifted forward to press his lips against her neck. “But Spike...”

“You’re beautiful. I’ve said it once and I plan on saying it again and again. You’re beautiful, my sweet lovely Buffy.”

“No, you’re sweet...”

After snickering into her shoulder, Spike pulled back to search her eyes. “You’re going to argue with me?”

“Um…” Buffy shook her head, her eyes never leaving his intense gaze. Unable to stop herself, she held her cold hands to his face and pulled him near for a number of light kisses. “Thank you. I’m not used to all these compliments,” she admitted with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “And the flirting…I don’t think Riley ever—God, never mind, who wants to talk about my ex? Not me, not now. I’d rather be talking about my current new boyfriend. I’d rather be—” Buffy paused, moving forward, needing to feel his silky-smooth lips against hers once more, “—kissing my new boyfriend, because he’s, ah…very kissable…”

Letting out a loud, throaty moan Buffy seemed to melt once their mouths came together yet again. Wanting to make good use of each second, she crawled into Spike’s lap and guided his arms around her lower back.


“No more talking.”

“Timeout, Buffy.”

“Do you need to breathe?”

“Yes, it’d be nice to have something in my lungs rather than just your tongue.”

“That’s kinda gross if you think about it literally,” Buffy pointed out, wrinkling her nose. “Maybe I got too carried away…maybe I was going too fast…”

“Or maybe you were going at the perfect pace,” Spike said, holding her against his chest more securely. “And maybe I just had to butt in because of the time, pet. It’s up to you—we could blow it off, I don’t mind—but we’ve got reservations for dinner in half an hour and it takes about that long to get where we’re going.”


“We don’t have to go to that particular restaurant since it is in another city...but then, if we stay local it’ll be Willy’s or Willy’s or Dawn’s...”

“I almost forgot about the feuding Willy’s,” Buffy laughed. “Isn’t there a McDonald’s here? Doesn’t every American town have at least one fast food chain?”

“Our first date and she wants to be served by a sodding clown. What if we stopped by the bloody gas station? We could dine on Big Gulps and roller dogs.”

“Roller dogs?”

“You know, the hot dogs that just sit on the rolling grill for hours on end.”

“Um, I wouldn’t refuse...” Buffy grinned. “Could we have nachos too? Oh! And ice cream! Gas stations usually have the best selection of ice cream on a stick.”

“You’re serious? You want to eat at a gas station?”

“You weren’t serious?” she asked, her smiling fading. “Did I just make a fool out of myself?”

“Oh, don’t make that pouty face.”

“Now you’re going to mock me.” She stuck her lower lip out further and struggled to stay forlorn as Spike kissed her lip.

“Wherever we go we’d better head there soon or we’ll miss dinner and if I have my say, we’ll miss breakfast, lunch and maybe dinner tomorrow as well.”

“You want to stay at the beach for that long?”

“No. We’ll continue where we left off and get a bite to eat before we head back to your place, where--.”

“Where you assume that much love will be made, am I right?”

“That, or maybe some heavy petting—hell, I’d even take a lengthy cuddle if it was offered.”

“On the couch?”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” Buffy repeated with a soft giggle.

“Does this mean that you won’t give me a hint?” Spike whispered, his voice sending shivers down to her toes. “What should I expect, baby?”

“And ruin the suspense?”

“You tease.”

“Now, back to dinner. Where are we going to eat?”
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