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Buffy woke up, alone in bed, the breeze from her open window like a whisper on her skin. She pulled her comforter up to her chin as she turned her back on the sunlight. About two minutes went by, and she lived in the state between sleep and wakefulness, before reality returned and her eyes shot open.

Awareness. That was the right word. Aware of the two other... inhabitants in her house, aware of their undead characteristics. Aware that they may or may not be sleeping, but surely hiding from the sunshine either way, and much more determinedly than Buffy herself was right now. Aware of the last thing she had done with one of them before going to bed.

She sighed, breath fluffing out the white sheet she'd yanked over her face. Sitting up, Buffy let the blankets drop. Swinging her heavy legs over the side of the bed, she checked the clock. Ten in the morning. Well, that was earlier than usual for a weekend, but on the bright side maybe she could get a little alone time before her guests awoke. Given, she probably could have slept at least six more hours before that happened.

Buffy went to the bathroom. She brushed her hair, then her teeth, rummaging around in her closet for something comfortable to put on before she started applying a little makeup to her freshly washed face.

She didn't have any plans for today, though often enough Faith would call in the late afternoon on Saturdays to see if Buffy wanted to go out, but tonight probably wouldn't turn into a dance filled memory. Not with two vampires under her roof.

She took a last look in the mirror, and mentally approved the white shorts and light blue halter. It was a very summery ensemble, with her long blonde hair covering her back, she felt comfortable and not too revealing.

She opened the curtains wider to allow fresh air into the room and left, bare feet padding into the dead quiet of the hallway. When she saw the door to Dawn's old room, she felt something like soap bubbles popping in her stomach.

Buffy gulped and went to check in on Darla. She saw that her friend was asleep. At least, she appeared to be. The curtains were drawn and it seemed the window had been shut, but that was fine. Darla looked content, and no sunlight drew close.

Buffy quietly shut the door. Then, her eyes were drawn to the other one again. She looked down at herself, and decided that the little flutter she'd gotten in her heart when picking out her clothes a few minutes ago had to have been imaginary. True, Buffy considered this one of her lucky tops, for every time she wore it she got plenty of male attention. And yes, the shorts showed off her legs very nicely, but it was hot out. Besides, what vampire liked pastels? Spike was probably more likely to drool over something in red and black, not this.

Yet, there was a chance...

Buffy rolled her eyes and refused to go and change, instead heading downstairs to make coffee, which sounded like a less obsessive and much more rewarding plan.

After she had filled a mug with the brew Dolly Parton once called "ambition," Buffy found herself thinking over things that made her seek out the solitude of the backyard, contemplation clear on her face.

This garden was like a sanctuary. Filled with perennial plants, beautiful hydrangea and bright green creeping vines, sweet herbs, shrubs of evergreen, the magnolia tree. Every flower and leaf was healthy, eye-catching, the fences around enclosing it all.

She always felt like this garden of her mother's was a peaceful place. Joyce had planted everything; she had been the one with the green thumb in the family, but Buffy learned, too. She learned enough to keep the garden up. It wasn't precise, there was always some overgrowth, but the yard had a certain energy about it that might be due to its untidiness.

Of course, her schedule wasn't all that busy, but she did like her job. She liked hanging out with Faith and being carefree on the weekends, she liked talking and going out to lunch with her sister, and watching crappy television programs. Buffy had a simple, day to day, easygoing life, and excitement in it was minimal.

She frowned at that thought. Until now.

She couldn't decide if there was a part of herself that was grateful for the change of tune Spike was bringing to her life, and so Buffy didn't examine the idea too closely. Instead, her mind wondered over last night's hot cocoa... kiss.

It had been pure heat, that kiss, but still soft. Like a candle flame is hot yet contained. It was something warm and tender, and still branded with a message.

This thing between them, this claim, was real. She didn't want to imagine what it would be like once they were "properly" linked, after the sex and words that were supposed to happen, she figured any image or feeling she could conjure would only fall short.

It's like when you imagine a scenario in your head, because you're going someplace new or trying something out for the first time, and you have all the time in the world it seems to guess what it's going to be like. Then, no matter what it was, you find out that you were wrong; every time. The experience is completely different from anything you'd dreamt up, sometimes worse, sometimes better. Buffy didn't want to be wrong this time, or worry about it, so she shut her mind off to thinking about how things could be with Spike once they were linked to each other.

God, the very idea of being attached to someone else made her shudder. It was terrifying to her. Buffy Summers kept her heart thoroughly protected most of the time, as she was immediately vulnerable when she loved someone.

She wasn't even sure she would fall in love with Spike, but she knew that she could. That, scared her, but she also couldn't be connected to someone for eternity knowing that love wouldn't be a part of the deal. It was frightening, the concept of loving someone wholeheartedly; yet just as scary, the idea of not receiving such love.

Buffy took a large gulp of her coffee, letting it burn the insides of her cheeks before swallowing and sending the heat down through her throat. She had to do this. She knew that. Buffy was able to admit that a part of her wanted it, too, completely separate from anything to do with the claim or her almost instant attraction to the vampire. She honestly... just kind of liked him.

All of that arrogance. He was a bad boy fantasy for teenage girls and women everywhere who'd ever gawked at a James Dean poster, but he was real. A man who actually had a heart- no soul, but not the point here -and he wasn't an abandoner. He didn't give up. Spike was so many things, he bugged her and made her nerves hum. He wanted her, made her know it. He was honest.

She did like him.

Buffy muttered some choice words to herself. She had a crush on a vampire. What was her life? Seriously, this was not a fantasy novel, but someone out there seemed to like the idea of weaving her reality into one.

She thought about their last kiss again. After she'd pulled back from him, she'd found herself sitting on his lap. They must have looked like some sweet, sappy couple in a movie, but only for a moment. Buffy had quickly stood back on her own two feet and then taken a big swallow of the scalding hot cocoa, before tossing the rest down the sink.

Spike brought his drink up to his room, following her when she told him she was tired again. She wasn't tired, of course, and he knew that. However, Buffy needed the space and to not be feeling Spike's body against hers.

Her skin had raised goose bumps and heat had begun seeping through her system, all from that kiss. Suddenly, distance became imperative if she was going to remain un-claimed for any continued portion of the night.

Nothing like... that spark, had ever touched her before. Either the connection was getting stronger, more insistent, or her feelings were.

Buffy sat down on the wooden steps, absently watching a bird move around in the grass. Her heart was already hammering, and every time she relived the tender moment with her vampire, every time she recognized Spike as her vampire, her vision clouded and the world melted away.

She was screwed.

Buffy had lain down in bed after they separated for the evening, and wished she hadn't washed the taste of him out of her mouth with hot chocolate before practically bolting from the kitchen. It didn't compare, and she'd only been trying to savor some dignity... somehow. She was a moron. His lips were so much better than chocolate.

She craved him. That had never happened before. Not to her.

Buffy wanted to bang her forehead against the nearest wall. *How do I accept the fact I'm attached to a man who might never love me?*

Buffy drained her coffee cup, then looked at the magnolia where he had first appeared and still always did. Spike was tall and strong, like that tree, but much, much darker. He had so much life in him that it was strange to know otherwise. The man was a beacon of vitality, smirks and jovial energy, with emotions as intense as tidal waves. His eyes could make you feel like you were melting.

He was so intense. He was the one.

*I am SO screwed.*

***

Spike awoke to a dark room. Unfamiliar scents, and then more common ones like dust and stale air settled around him. He inhaled greedily, for underneath the dry aromas lay a much sweeter one, an invigorating perfume.

His mate.

He was in Buffy's house. He turned on his side in the old cot he'd called his bed last night, groaning quietly.

It had to be just after sunset. Yeah, that felt right. Spike stretched as he stood up, grimacing at the feel of slept in denim. He'd removed his T-shirt and shoes, but the jeans had been left on. It wasn't out of any kind of feeling of embarrassment, mind you, he simply didn't like the idea of scaring his twitchy little mate just when he was getting closer to her.

Spike smiled as he thought of Buffy. He bent to put on his Docs and let the images from last night wander through his mind. It was like a favorite story. That moment in the kitchen they'd shared... He knew she was coming around, and quickly, to the notion of being tied to him.

His undead heart seemed alive again from the contemplation. She could make a vamp smile, that was for damn sure, and Spike felt like a lovesick boy.

Her kiss was scorching, but he'd already known that. What Spike hadn't known until last night, was how lovely vulnerability could taste when someone you cared about, someone who was special, trusted you to accept theirs. Buffy was not shy, but she was cautious, and careful with her heart. He understood that all too well. If you did not guard yourself in this world, you could get hurt, even shattered.

Yet Buffy was starting to let her guard down, and for him. Even after she had skittered away like a scared rabbit upon realizing she was sitting in his lap, Spike could still only see the good points of last night.

They'd talked a little, she'd let him stay in order to make sure she was safe, and then she had kissed him.

Alright, she had let him kiss her, but she had fallen into it right with him. He'd never believed her to be anything but a lover. It was branded within her, the ability to make a man tremble and die a little in rapture, only to come begging back for more. She was a goddess of this century, a Venus among men.

Last night, he'd gotten to taste the sweeter side of the siren. The devoting yet cautious girl, the eager student and tender teacher, the woman who was so careful with her heart. The human who was his mate. She was an anomaly on this earth. A fire too tempting not to let himself burn.

Spike stood again and threw his shirt on before heading for the door. He needed to see her. After last night, he knew that she would come to him soon. She would accept this, the inevitable crossroads they were coming to, and then she would walk with him. They were to go together. He would never let her go once she allowed him the privilege of holding her, even if it was just her hand to start.

Spike was already in this, claim aside. His heart was possessed and his feet threaded to her shadow. He would follow the woman to the ends of the earth.

The speed at which he found it all happening scared the living shit out of him. Spike was no fool, perhaps a lovesick fool but no other kind. He was love's bitch, and that was a truth he had long ago admitted to himself.

He just hadn't allowed love to wrap a leash around his neck since last getting charred and broken. However, if fate gave you no other options, and there was a promise of forever, and running was suddenly futile... Well, Spike just had to accept things then, didn't he?

Though he knew that was a load of bull. So would anyone that had ever met him. He didn't follow the rules, or let something like "destiny" fuck with his unlife. He was his own vamp, through and through, didn't cater to a single bloody person or creature.

Until now.

Spike walked downstairs silently. He didn't do anything in this world that he didn't want to. Buffy was a choice. Even if part of their relationship was fate bound, he could have fought and walked away.

Could have, but didn't.

Spike wanted her. He had from the moment he saw her dancing. And he still did, and he was wanting her more and more with every passing second he spent with the chit.

And after last night...

Spike quickly ran back up the stairs, grabbed the empty mug he'd left on the ground beside the cot, then went downstairs again. All he heard as he headed for the kitchen was the sound of one heartbeat, a soothing tempo. Buffy was the only one up, the Darla bint must still be down for the count.

He walked through the swinging door and Buffy immediately caught his eye. She was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, though, for a mere moment. Spike's stomach seized.

All cute, startled, then it faded, and she smiled softly at him, and he relaxed. "Good evening." A note of amusement entered her voice that he was sure could be blamed on the fact his morning equated to her night. That was something Spike was sure would change; after they mated, both their sleeping schedules would very likely be screwed.

He didn't mind. He'd try and be an early afternoon riser at least, for her, if it made things a bit easier. "Evening, pet," he said, before setting the mug he held down on the island. When he stepped up to her side, her heartbeat sped and he forced back a grin. Skittish, she was, but delectably his all the same.

And she leaned into him after only a few seconds hesitation, which lead Spike to hope harder and relax even further. "What are you making here?"

"I'm following my mom's chicken soup recipe. It's Darla's favorite, and even if she doesn't exactly need human food to... well, survive, I thought she might like it." Buffy gave the pot another stir before placing a lid on it. "We had it the last time she was in town."

Spike nodded, watching her shrug her slender shoulders. After Buffy turned around to face him, he saw the little blue halter top she had on, and the lengths of her bare legs, only her upper thighs were covered by tiny white shorts.

His mind was easily distracted by the ensemble, but Buffy went about her business oblivious to his attention. She swung around and walked away from him, her long hair curling around a shoulder. He got a peek at her bare back, and gulped.

The woman's body was beautiful. All of that smooth skin, her golden wealth of hair, long legs and swaying hips. She was a picture. Petite, soft and warm, with gentle curves all around. His fingers twitched at his sides as he watched her stand on tiptoes to reach for a container of cornstarch that was high on a shelf, her shirt riding up to reveal the arc of her lower back.

Yet every lustful thought paled, almost vanished, when she turned to him with her warm eyes of green and smiled again. "Would you like some?"

*You have no idea.* But she couldn't have meant that. Spike frowned. "Some what?"

"Soup."

"Oh, right. Sure."

She nodded and then went back to the stove again, adding ingredients and stirring the boiling pot. "It will be ready soon, maybe ten minutes."

He said nothing, just watched and waited for her to place the lid back where it belonged. When she pulled away from the stove and headed to the sink, he let her rinse her hands before coming up behind her. Spike's arms went on either side of her, blocking her in. She tensed and turned around, frowning into his eyes, a question there.

Spike leaned in and kissed her, like before. Soft, unrushed, tender. He could be so damn tender with this woman. She brought out things in him that the demon snarled at and cowered away from. Nothing made his baser instincts flinch more than human emotion, and yet still, somewhere deep inside the demon was resigned, because this woman was its mate. Even for a vampire, gentleness could be permitted when it came to her.

Except the sweetness evaporated like steam after several seconds. Time started to drift away from them altogether. Buffy stood up on her tiptoes and softened her body against him. She pressed into his chest, and Spike wished he had skipped putting his back shirt on.

He wanted to feel her skin and heat without fabric in between, but that would have to be later. He was impatient, but she was settling in. Spike might be ready and willing for her, all of her, but she was only just accepting the idea. Letting him touch her with abandon was more than simple acceptance, but he would need to let her set the pace. He didn't intend to scare her off by going too fast.

When she hopped up on the edge of the counter and spread her legs, yanking him to stand between them, Spike was confident the wait wouldn't be long.

And if it was, she was worth it.

Buffy moaned in the back of her throat, pulling away reluctantly for breath. Spike's mouth travelled down her chin, then the skin on her neck, finally stopping at her collarbone to nibble and lick. She tugged him closer before finally capturing his lips once again with her own.

He was in her veins, and that was crazy, but the more they kissed, the worse it got. Buffy just wanted to hold him and love him and feel this kind of heat always, but she was terrified her wishing would cause her nothing but heartache.

Buffy sucked on his tongue and bit his bottom lip, hard, conjuring a growl from Spike. "You're waving red in front of a bull, love."

His warning did nothing to her. She'd never wanted someone this badly, and Buffy knew part of it must be the claim, but that would have surely caused their lust to be strong from the beginning. Either it was getting more demanding, wanting the connection to be completed already, or her feelings were running high, gaining weight and depth.

He was in her heart, and she had no way to get him out. Even her fears refused to make her separate from him now. She craved him, wanted his fingers dancing along her naked spine, his hands bruising her thighs.

Buffy pulled away with a gasp. Spike stared into her eyes with fire and lust, greed. She'd never been looked at like that before. It invigorated her. Her shuddering sighs touched his open lips and Spike just waited, patiently, for her to decide the next move. It seemed like he could hear her thoughts.

Hesitancy would have lost to lust if the spell hadn't been abruptly broken. Darla walked into the kitchen and rolled her eyes before uttering a very disgusted exclamation. "Oh for the love of-! Would have appreciated a little warning, ya know."

Buffy froze, then quickly hopped off the counter as blood returned to her brain. Stepping away from Spike who backed up very unwillingly as she made her way back to the stove, her cheeks were as red as the fire in her gut. Buffy only swallowed and looked at Darla. "We didn't wake you up, did we?"

If she had said anything, anything at all, that was maybe a little less insinuating, Buffy wouldn't have wanted to crawl into a hole. However, the words were out there, and Darla was raising one eyebrow just as Spike was smirking at the floor. "No," the she-vamp said, "but given a few more minutes, I think I might have woken up to moans and groans."

"Probably would've been more than just that, pet," Spike joked. Buffy really did just want to get a shovel and head for the backyard.

Instead, she simply swallowed her embarrassment, and said, "The soup is done. Darla, I- I hope you still... eat it."

Her friend's eyes lit up with sudden appreciation, and the tease and slight disdain she'd held in them only a moment before quickly faded. "You made soup?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure, with your new blood diet and all, if you still liked it, but-"

"No, I do." She assured, quickly going to find a bowl to fill. "Thanks."

Spike followed suit, and before Buffy knew it, there they were again. Two vampires sitting across from each other, nearly glaring as they ate a hot meal neither one needed for sustenance. Buffy wanted to sit down and be oblivious to the sense of weird in the room, but she couldn't manage to detach herself from the reality that was her life.

Spike kept glancing at her from beneath his lashes, and told her how good his needless food was; Darla complimented next.

"Blood."

They both blinked. Darla frowned hard and turned to face her. "What... about blood...?"

Buffy swallowed. "You guys. You'll need blood, right?" When they didn't answer her, irritation rose, and she felt immensely awkward. "I figure since both of you are too stubborn to let me stay a night in the same house with a vamp that isn't one of yourselves, and neither of you trust each other, we'll all be bunking down here for a while. Believe me when I tell you that I was not ready to house people of the undead variety, so someone needs to get blood."

Both of them shuffled nervously in their seats, not missing the ire in her voice. Darla took another spoonful of soup and said, "I was going to pick some up for myself once the sun went down." She glanced at Buffy over her shoulder. "There's this guy who always gives me a discount on his stuff."

Spike scowled over the counter. "Human blood, or animal?"

"Human," she purred, looking decidedly smug all of a sudden. "Real cheap, leftover from a hospital about an hour out of town. He orders it special for his customers, but when I buy from him, I get a markdown."

"Why would the wanker cut someone who ain't a regular, a deal?" Spike questioned.

She smiled and took another bite of soup, crunching on a carrot. "He likes me."

Spike scoffed. "Bleeding typical."

Buffy crossed her arms, digesting the fact this conversation was actually happening, and in her kitchen no less, then shook her head. "Can you get extra?" Did she really say that?

Darla looked at her a little strangely, but nodded. "Yeah. No problem."

Spike smiled, and looked over at Buffy. She was red in the face, and her pulse was skipping over itself. She felt out of place, strange for asking about blood like it was a typical item you'd put on a grocery list.

And she was asking for him.

***

Buffy found herself alone in the kitchen again after Darla left. The vampire walked out the front door and into the night not long ago, and she'd left under the certainty that Buffy would keep near the phone.

"I don't expect him to hurt you anymore," Darla had admitted, "Not after I walked in on you two dry humping against the counter."

Buffy titled her head back and almost sighed, but Darla had opened her mouth again to say, "You've never lost your head like that before... It was kind of nice to see you relax."

Buffy frowned very hard. "What?"

"Well," Darla gave a little eye roll, "not the grinding, sweaty part that was featured. But the not being so tied down, actually losing yourself in something? I don't see that very often."

Buffy's facial expression didn't waver. "Are you telling me you're approving of Spike, Darla?"

Her brows went up. "Oh, so I tell you that you're not acting as uptight as usual, applaud that, and I just have to be approving of Spike?" The sarcasm was tangible, but Buffy heard something beneath that.

She heard acceptance- Or, at least, the closest thing to it. "No. But you are, aren't you?"

Darla groaned. "I'm not saying I like it. Or him for that matter, his attitude rivals my own and you know how I don't like to be challenged."

Buffy smiled. "No one should dare."

"Exactly." Darla met her friend's eyes. "Dear, you're not dumb. And even though 'kiss' is a four letter word in my book, I saw the way that idiot of a vampire looked at you, held you. He's not going to hurt you, and if I believe that then I'm inclined to believe he really is your mate." She sighed heavily, very dramatically. "And I realize there isn't anything I should even be trying to do about that."

Buffy leaned in to hug her. Darla was surprised, but accepted the embrace all the same.

"Still, stay by the phone," the vampire advised as she pulled away and stepped through the front door. "You know how I hate to be wrong."

Buffy noted the true concern lying in Darla's eyes, and nodded. After the woman left, she went back into the kitchen, and she'd been there ever since.

Buffy was grateful that Darla had come around so easily- Well, as easily as was possible. Things were still new, and Spike was still a complete stranger to her.

However, she was a woman who accepted what her gut told her, and always kept an open mind. Darla was wise beyond her years, and Buffy suspected that she had not left the house with any doubt in her mind that Spike wouldn't hurt her friend. Otherwise, no one would be getting blood tonight.

Spike was still in the house. She'd told him he could use her shower if he wanted, and she'd also offered a change of clothes if he didn't feel like slipping back into the ones that were surely starting to chafe his skin a bit. Surprisingly, Spike had accepted both offers, and now the vamp was upstairs soaping up and washing his bleached hair.

Buffy wondered if vampires shaved.

Shaking the thought away, she decided to go downstairs and grab those clothes she promised him.

The laundry room and main storage unit of her home, the basement rarely got cleaned out. Buffy hardly noticed the dust and ugly gray walls anymore. She was used to it down here, all the boxes marked with faded black Sharpie seemed to belong.

She approached the washer and dryer units. There were two cardboard boxes filled to the top with old clothes sitting inside them, an accumulation of years gone by. As she opened the first box, she found several pairs of sweatpants, ugly maternity tops, T-shirts with discolored band logos, and even some things her and Dawn has grown out of but couldn't bear to part with for some unknown emotional reason or another.

Buffy sifted through the clothes until she found a large black T-shirt and dark green sweatpants. She knew for a fact they weren't hers, or Dawn's, but probably had once belonged to their father.

Neither of them could ever keep stuff that had once belonged to an ex-boyfriend. They simply didn't want to, and surely no new man that came into their life later on would appreciate it. Joyce, when she'd begun dating again, hadn't gotten a chance to lose a beau and therefore burn or donate his gifts and clothes to charity. However, Hank Summers was one man none of the Summers women could ever seem to get over.

Buffy's father had run out on them all when she was only sixteen. It had hurt, and bitterness and resentment had coiled in her stomach over time for his lack of care when it came to her mother, her sister, and herself. Yet still, not a single one of them could manage to get rid of quite all the things he had left behind.

Buffy sighed and folded the T-shirt and sweats, then reclosed the box and headed back upstairs. The clothes were clean, they would fit Spike, and she wouldn't have to worry over him getting all growly about wearing some other man's clothing once she reassured him they didn't use to belong to someone she'd dated. So it was a good thing, despite the knot in her throat.

Buffy next thought to herself, as she ascended the staircase to the second floor, that she should really get rid of the boxes in the basement and just tell Spike to bring some of his own clothes over here.

She tripped on the last step. When had her thoughts gotten thoroughly taken out of her control? Why would Spike need any of his stuff kept here?

*Because he's going to be staying.*

Buffy knew it. It made her sigh, also made tingles run down her spine, but she accepted it as the fact that it was. They hadn't discussed it, not since before Darla's arrival, and Buffy knew Spike probably wouldn't sleep anywhere else at least until her friend had gone again.

By that time, Buffy was sure, on some baser level she just understood, that she'd be too used to him being so close all the time that she wouldn't want Spike to leave. He would gather his belongings, then move into her home.

It would become theirs, which was utterly terrifying.

Buffy gulped as she knocked on the bathroom door. The sound of falling water stopped and she heard him say, "Just a sec."

Spike moving in with her was... ugh, dare she think it... inevitable. She realized this, because frankly, beneath her nerves and inner wigging, the idea of him leaving bothered her now. He'd only spent the night once and the thought that he wouldn't sleep so close to her again after Darla left town made Buffy actually sad.

She hated it. She hated this attachment that was growing so fast she could barely catch her breath-

Spike opened the door, and breathing ceased completely.

There he stood, the vampire that drove her crazy. Only a towel covered him for decency, the rest of his body was bare. Tall and beautiful he stood. He had toned abs that looked completely unreal, his arms were smooth and sculpted out of quiet strength. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him, he was molded from pure skin and muscle.

She shoved the clothes she held in her hands at him and mentally went down for the count.

The look in Spike's eyes was telling, but Buffy barely noticed it. He knew she was ogling him, but she didn't catch on to that. "Thanks, love."

"S-Sure." She shook her head and blinked, seemingly trying to wrangle her verbal abilities into order. "They weren't an old boyfriend's."

Spike rose an eyebrow, then looked at the clothes in his hands. Understanding dawned. "Ah. Good to know." He probably would have vamped out if they had been, right before burning the damn things.

Buffy gave a jerky nod then turned away. "I'll be downstairs."

He called out to her. "Buffy-"

"See you in a minute." *Hopefully when you're clothed,* she thought.

***

Okay, so living with a totally attractive vampire just got way worse.

Buffy inhaled deeply, trying to get the fresh evening air to clear her mind. Her heart was still pounding in her chest as she paced her tiny back deck, and she was hot and moisture was pooling in her underwear.

*Jesus, relax!*

She'd seen Spike practically naked, though, and her brain would not let her forget it. She couldn't relax. That body was to die for- pun not intended -and she had a claim on it. A claim on Spike. The total hottie/pain in the ass undead creature she would soon call her boyfriend- or mate- or whatever!

Buffy ran her hands through her hair. This was just all so frustrating. Her hormones were also, not helping matters. She had decided to try and welcome Spike's presence in her life with less resistance and more trust. Really, she was, but how could she let her guard down at all when just seeing the man without a shirt and pants on got her this hot and bothered?

Buffy felt like she was losing control. She could not go into this without caution. She couldn't. That would wreck her, surely, even if they were going to end up together anyway. There was a big, meaningful difference between affection and lust.

Buffy let out a rush of breath. She just wanted a guarantee. With Spike, with this claim, for her heart. It was irrational and never going to happen, but she wanted it. She wanted a promise, from whatever overpowering deity had decided to write her and Spike's lives this way, that everything was going to be alright.

"How do I know it's going to be okay?" She muttered the words to herself, very quietly, ignoring the helplessness of the statement. She needed something to level out her worries, her fears, and more than anything else, she needed something to cool her down. Her heart was still fluttering.

"It will be okay."

Buffy spun around on a gasp, her dignity crumpling to dust when she saw Spike standing behind her. He was wearing the sweat pants she'd given him, but no shirt. Great. "And you know this how?" she blurted angrily.

He stared at her reddened cheeks and heaving chest. His eye narrowed as he stepped closer.

She moved an inch away as he closed in, then she came to the edge of the steps. Spike had stopped, but she could tell he wanted to touch her. "Because we'll make this work." When she stayed silent, he bit back a sigh. "I get it's going to be hard, yeah? You do, too. We've got a fight ahead of us, probably a lot of them." He cracked a smile, trying to catch one of hers. "But that doesn't mean we can't figure it out... together."

Buffy's lips pinched. She crossed her arms and looked at her feet. "We'll have to."

There it was. The base of her fears. They would have to find a way to be together. There was no divorce for mates, no separating. They could end up hating each other and still be stuck, with no way out.

He felt the same fears as Buffy did, but she had never thought in terms of forever. He, however, had lived a long time never expecting to grow old and pass on, but Spike didn't plan to find a mate, either, though he'd always wanted it.

He wasn't truly worried that they would grow to hate each other. He didn't see it happening, and sure, anything was possible, but the best way to avoid it was to work on liking each other first. Buffy had started that, and he was already in deep. However, her fears were causing her to pull away just when she was letting him get close.

"Having to do something, doesn't mean we've lost all control," he said.

Her head shot up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that just because some meddling forces out there like to try and be funny, doesn't mean we can't do this on our own time, love."

She actually took a step closer to him. "I know. Y-You've said that before."

He smiled down at her, softness in his eyes that he didn't know shined clear through. "If we did the mating bit tonight, Buffy, it still wouldn't change how we decide to take things. All of the decisions we make are our own. We move, no one else moves us. We're not chess pieces."

She felt a weight lift from her shoulders, something like peace suddenly settling in her stomach. If he believed that, then maybe she could, too. There was one thing, however... "Feelings usually take on a life of their own, Spike."

He smirked gently, somehow looking both rakish and trustworthy, before saying, "Baby, ignoring them won't help a thing."
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Thanks for all of the reviews! They really help me to write and I love hearing what you guys think! Please continue to give me your thoughts, they help the muse. And I would love to know how you feel about the banner, too. (I put it on the first chapter after I made it, but for those of you who haven't seen it yet I'm excited to know your opinions)
Thank for reading! *HUGS*





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