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*The following Saturday*

Buffy was enjoying a rare moment of vegging out around the house, with nothing pressing to do, or any chores pending. If only there were something to actually watch on TV, she would have been in heaven.

It was also the first time she was alone, not counting her patrols, or her being asleep, in what felt like forever, but was actually closer to the entire time she’d been back from LA. Her mother was receiving a shipment at the gallery, her dad was busy with setting up his practice in Sunnydale, and her watcher had met with Miss Calendar to try to patch things up after the teacher had revealed her secret mission in Sunnydale and the fact that she’d lied to everyone for more than a year. Glad I’m not there to see that go down.

She had tried getting the Slayerettes together, but Willow had to go to a family event, Xander had told her something about a cousin giving birth, and Buffy wasn’t desperate enough to call Cordelia. She’d probably have something to do that I couldn’t join her for, anyway. So Buffy had decided on a day of doing absolutely nothing.

Three extra-large bags of snacks, one tub of ice cream, and two TV-pizzas later she was flipping channels in search of that elusive something that would catch her eye, yet be mindless enough to allow her brain some much-needed down-time.

There was a lot weighing on her and she just couldn’t manage to get relaxed enough that she could feel lighter. Maybe another trip to that spa Spike treated us girls to would be of the good.

Which brought another burst of thoughts that made relaxing so hard to do: Spike; him killing people before and stopping for her; Angel; Giles’ trip to LA to get everyone settled in the hotel her Dad had arranged for them; her Dad being involved in her Slaying because of Spike; her Mom knowing about everything; the possible true meaning behind Dru’s warning; Ms. Calendar turning out to be a member of the clan that had cursed Angel; her Dad acting as Spike’s lawyer; Spike.

Whatever she did, wherever she turned, Spike seemed to always be on her mind, and yet she hadn’t seen him for almost two weeks. Give or take a couple of hours. A quick glance at a clock told her it would be exactly two weeks in ten hours. Knowing that seems lame, sappy, and sad at the same time.

She stood up straight on the couch. To do what? Not like I can just waltz in to his new layer in the middle of the day just to see him. Not that I know where that is, anyway, she thought bitterly.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a knock on the back door that was so quiet she wasn’t sure she would have heard it before—as she had started to define the time in her life up to her short death.

She got up to answer it, tying the sash of the robe she hadn’t changed out of since her shower that morning. She didn’t want to flash whomever it was that was bothering her during her time off.

She strode through the kitchen and opened the door only to find “Spike!”

Buffy’s life had slowed down before, during important battles, or when she’d first laid eyes on her bleached savior, but seeing him on her back porch bathed in sunlight brought time to a screeching halt. Her brain refused to work beyond the repeat of an equation she had learned long before: vampire plus sun equals dust.

The Slayer in her reacted on instinct and she grabbed a handful of his shirt, hauled him in, and dropped to the ground on top of him in order to protect him from the source of sudden death shining above. She started patting him down for flames, at the same time relishing the fact that she was still able to touch him. Not dust was the new mantra playing in her head.

It took what felt like centuries, but it was probably closer to seconds for her hearing to clear enough for her to register the chuckle coming from the man she was currently fondling. Which made her realize exactly how close their two bodies were, and that her hands were dangerously close to dangerously male parts of his anatomy. She scrambled to stand up, not able to process what was going on, and she laid back against the somehow closed back door in order to catch her breath. He didn’t move except to support his upper body on his elbows.

“What-?” She was panting and couldn’t have finished that sentence to save her life.

Spike stood up, a movement so sinfully fluid it made her look him up and down in appreciation without wanting to. He’d not worn his usual black on black, with black on top ensemble, instead wearing ripped jeans and a dark blue shirt. Color, limited as it might have been, looked good on him. She then noticed he had a pair of sun glasses in his hand, which he hung from the neck of his t-shirt, making it look slightly like a V-neck. Wait, sun! “How-?”

“All good questions, Slayer.” He was smiling as he talked, something that also looked good on him. Smitten much? “Why don’t you come with me to your living room and we can have a proper chat about it, yeah?”

She was slowly coming out of her panic-induced fog and her brain was beginning to work at its normal speed again. Her limbs had yet to stop being slightly numb, though. Still, talking and understanding were of the good, so she nodded her assent and waved him ahead of her. Whatever was going on, it was freaky and it meant she would not be taking her eyes off him anytime soon. And this way he can’t see me checking out his ass. She almost blushed at her own thought. Then she had a small panic attack thinking about how she might look herself, but before she had time to finish the thought, it was too late and they’d reached their destination.

Once they were seated with her back on the couch and him in an armchair she expected him to start talking. He apparently decided leering at her was a better choice.

“Are you going to explain or not?” She let bit of anger slip in her tone just to make sure he would be on his toes.

He waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, sure.” He pointed at her. “Are you naked under that?”

Oh, God! “You’re five seconds away from dusting if you don’t answer my questions and that is what you decide to say? You’re a pig, Spike!” She pressed her thighs closer together and pulled on the edges of the robe to make sure she wasn’t showing him any more skin than she absolutely had to.

“Well, yeah! I will always be more interested in you being almost naked, or completely naked, for that matter.” He looked her up and down the way he was watching her made her skin tingle. “Wanna take the robe off so I can check?”

She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Gah! I don’t even know why I bother. I’ll be right back and you better be here and explain-y when I get back.” She stomped her way to the stairs, shouted an outraged ‘Men,’ and then all but ran to her room, panting. She was sort of aroused, pissed off, and worried at the same time, which made her even more pissed off.

She took a few seconds to get a grip on her emotions before going to her closet to put some clothes on. She caught a glimpse of the way she looked and cringed. Her hair was wild, her make-up non-existent, she had a slight orange hue and a couple of splotches of chocolate from her earlier snacks. She was also flushed and her robe looked all rumpled. I’m a mess!

She wasted no time as she shed her robe—she ignored the slight flare of arousal she got being naked in her room with Spike waiting for her downstairs—and put a pair of cut off jean shorts and a white shirt on. Then she paused, got undressed again, and decided against going commando, opting instead for her most un-sexy white panty and bra set. Any little helps to keep my lusties in check. She put her clothes back on, wiped her face free of any trace food-items, applied some light make-up, and gave herself a confident look in the mirror. Now I’m ready to face the evil undead.

She refused to listen to the voice in the back of her mind telling her that if she didn’t want to give Spike a free show, she should have worn full length jeans. After all, it was her house and she could still wear whatever she felt like. Right.

When she got downstairs she found Spike lounging in the armchair, his right leg over its arm, and his right elbow behind its back. Yummy. Bad Buffy! He still has some explaining to do. He sat up when he noticed her and she did her best to look unaffected by the leer he was giving her.

She marched over to the couch, sat down as prim and proper as she could, turned off the TV, and then turned slightly to face him. “Talk.”

She could practically see the way he struggled not to make any inappropriate comments about how she was dressed, why he was there, what they could do, and any other thing that she knew he wanted to say, but didn’t because she would be upset. The simple fact that she knew all that was astonishing to realize, but not as astonishing, or as interesting as the main question. So she was more than a little relieved when he finally started to talk, answering her.

“This is an old and very active Hellmouth. As with demons, it drew all sorts of people with a knack for the occult, many times bringing their treasured objects with.” He paused for a second and she nodded slowly at him, urging him on. “There was a myth about a vampire Holy Grail, a gem that would make its owner invincible and impervious. The stories called it the Gem of Amara, and it became a sort of underground fairy tale, until Dalton found a more clear mention of it being buried somewhere around the Hellmouth.” He was grinning by now, the pride of being able to one-up everyone else clear to see. “I pushed, prodded, tested, dug, and found it!”

“I thought vampires were immortal anyway.”

“Immortal as in ‘not going to die of old age,’ yes, but as you well know stakes, holy water, the Sun, and so on are all valid ways to kill my kind. The Gem makes all those things useless.” His grin got even wider if possible. “Haven’t gotten around to testing decapitation, but everything else went well.”

“Wait, you tested this thing?”

He looked offended. “Of course I did: crosses, stakes, and the like.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say. A million and one thoughts came to her at the same time, from thinking they could go for picnics now, to the fact that there was no way for him to be killed if he did something truly evil, to how all the other vampires throughout the world would react to the news that Spike held the keys to everything they could possibly want. She settled to utter an almost silent ‘why?’

He got off the armchair and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “For us. I wanted to be able to be with you during the day, not just the night. I wanted to take you out on dates when I can watch the sun shine through your hair.” He looked vulnerable for a moment—which considering his new status as impervious to almost anything, was slightly weird. “Don’t you want us to go out?”

“You’re stupid, and insane, and gah! Of course I wanna go out with you.” She poked his chest with a finger. “Not that you bothered to actually be anywhere near me for the past two weeks.” She then used the same finger to tap her lower lip in faux thought. “I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t just punish you for you absence.” As soon as she said it his eyes darkened and he leered at her. Once her mind caught up with her words’ meaning she felt a flare of lust go through her body.

She couldn’t help it: she was happy that she could go out with Spike in the sun and she knew somehow that he wouldn’t do anything that would make her regret him having the ring. So she crashed her lips to his in what was actually their first kiss since he’d announced officially that he was courting her. Over a month ago. Talk about taking it slow.

Soon the kiss became even more heated though, and thinking became a problem better left for other times. Feeling was much better anyway.

So the Slayer and her vampire made out like a couple of teenagers—which one of them actually still was—until he pulled away from her, both panting.

“Want me to take you shopping at the mall, pet?”

It’s official: he’s perfect! She didn’t answer him, instead giving him another quick peck on the lips, followed by a squeal, and her rushing off to her room to get changed: what she was wearing might have been appropriate for inside the house, but she needed to get mall-ready! His easy laughter accompanied her all the way up the stairs.

~~~***~~~

*An hour later, Sunnydale Mall*

Giles was doing something he was woefully unprepared for. He had seen evil firsthand, had fought against arguably one of the most ancient vampires in history, had been in charge of the training of the single most unusual Slayer the Watcher’s Council had ever recorded, and yet going with a woman to the mall, of all places, was something that truly terrified him.

Still, he allowed himself to be dragged along by the giddy teacher to store after store, their importance and wares having blended together since long before. It didn’t matter, though, because she was looking at him a certain way from time to time, or she would grace him with that smile of hers that would melt his heart, and everything else would become just details to be ignored.

“Look, wouldn’t that scarf just be perfect for what goes for winter in California?”

He nodded. It didn’t really matter one way or another. She would look good in a burlap sack to him. She’d look bloody gorgeous without it, too.

They’d talked, they’d fought, and they’d yelled. In the end, though, he could understand having to do your duty above your personal feelings. He could also understand going against the grain, had done it before, and was willing to do it again. For her. She deserved it.

He deserved it. He truly couldn’t remember anything in his life that could make him feel so alive.

Plus, it never hurt having something on your woman, since they too easily held the upper hand.

His daydreaming about what a life next to Jenny—or should I start calling her Janna?—was cut short by a sight he had never thought he’d see: his Slayer dragging along her vampire, much in the way Jenny was dragging him along, in broad daylight.

His shock must have shown because Jenny was suddenly next to him, looking concerned. “What’s wrong? Rupert?”

He was at a loss for words and the realization only made his lack of verbosity more acute. “I… That… Look!” He mentally cursed himself for being articulate only inside his mind.

“What are they doing?” She grabbed his hand again and started pulling. “Let’s go, we have to ask them.”

Apparently after she got her own secrets off her chest, she was much more carefree and impulsive . As he was being pulled across the semi-crowded mall, Giles thought he would love to take the time to get used to her. May even take the rest of my life.

He was aware of how stupid his grin had to look as they approached the most powerful couple in Sunnydale.

“Buffy, Spike, what a pleasant surprise.”





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