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Soft pressure. Light and silky, moving across Spike's tense lips as smoothly as skates glide over ice. His heartbeat stopped entirely. His palms grew sweaty, sliding on the table behind them; muscles coiled so tightly he felt them clench and spasm.

Not her muscles, of course. Buffy was plush and pressing, like a granted wish. Every bone in her body melted, every inch of her stayed gentle and soft. When the moment unfroze, and the dark behind his eyelids sparkled, he wrapped his hands around her waist. Heat seeped into biting fingers. Gasps died behind closed lips.

Buffy lingered in the haze, moaning very quietly, like she was having a dream. Suddenly, William moved closer. Hips bumping, fast hands, eyes welded shut. At some point Buffy couldn't recall, she had stood from the chair, now he pushed her into the table.

He came to life, slid against her, hurried and smooth, warming her from the outside in. His body bent like a fist curls its fingers, she felt her pulse skipping, felt his caresses turn rough. Steam blowing against her mouth and when he pulled back just to dive back in, Buffy swore she could hear his heart beating.

She touched his arms, the fabric of the uniform coarse underneath her fingertips. He held on with an iron will that had been building for ages.

The pressure of her chest was a sensation William had never thought to feel against his own, but still imagined over and over again until the dream was a picture he knew every corner and color of, where the needy groans tickling his skin were all in his head. Where imagination ensured the woman in his arms wasn't a stranger, and she knew both his names.

Teeth nibbling her bottom lip made Buffy shiver.

She whimpered. Spike yanked her closer still. They were as molded together as two people could get. Gently, nails dug into muscle. She dragged her tongue along the seam of his lips and coherence returned like a shot. Spike's palms burned with warmth and his ears rang. The strenuous arching of body into body was not a random female with close-enough blonde hair. It wasn't his imagination. It was Buffy, it was his girl, and this was real.

*I love you, I love you, I love you.* The vow reverberated through his mind like an echo. Spike grappled with her hips until his fingers were bunching the material of her skirt. Little gasps and deep moans pulled sounds from his own throat he'd never thought to make around her, the kind of lost ecstasy a man exhibits when he's guided by the feelings of a tight zipper and unfettered heat.

She was weakening beneath him, her body sliding into lethargy based pleasure and sighing against his mouth every time they parted. He dove deeper, unwilling to stop. Unwilling to let go. Spike never thought he would taste her like this, know her like this. Everything around them was still and quiet, but between them, a hundred fires were lit, a thousand cherry bombs going off; audacious, alive.

His tongue slipped wetly along hers, stroking the insides of her cheeks and the backs of her teeth. Bodies grew sweaty. She bit his lip. A gentle hand sped over her ribcage to her breast, Buffy felt it cup her, then wander downward, yanking again at her hip. A growl that thoroughly surprised her accompanied skirt shifting. Her thighs were bare, air cool and denim chafing.

William touched her like he was handling a glass ornament, something breakable, but he could only remain so gentle. He craved her. He wanted her. She felt a stiffness kneading the soft part of her stomach, the portion below her belly button that was almost another section altogether.

It made her greedy. It made her gasp and made her burn. His kisses were electric, rough and desperate. They broke apart, crisis inhales of oxygen flowing into lungs. His lips dropped to her throat, biting, licking, loving the skin with fond nips and wet sucking. He tugged on her nerves through skin, nibbling up and below her ear. Buffy's eyes flew open, the view of the wide ceiling sadly reminding of where they were, and that they had never done this before. Any of this. Despite every lustful notion of I-missed-him which begged to differ.

She felt William's hands cup her elbows, tugging her impossibly closer. Buffy arched into greedy kisses, her name whispered hotly against her own throat, and the sound was so erotic she could scream. A pulse of warmth spread between her open legs, climbing into the apex of her thighs. Her hands slid through his hair and combed back. Hazy eyes rolled up in her head. She felt an insistent moan crash against her neck.

She was loathe to say a single thing, wishing the moment would never end. William wedged his leg between hers. Rough fabric was suddenly brushing and rubbing; flesh turned dripping, hot, throbbing. Buffy knew she had to stop, but the writhing, full body grinding was hard to forfeit.

In a very dark, very pathetic moment, she felt a sinking sensation of disappointment collide with sparks before the stupid words had even left her mouth. Gasping for equilibrium, she said, "We-We should stop."

It didn't stall him at first, maybe because her voice was quiet and breathy. Maybe because his eyes were closed and he appeared to be savoring every sweaty grind, just as she was. It took her a moment to get a handle and stop. But a second slid by where he changed, his entire, wonderful body going from hot and invading, to merely frozen. Her lips were trembling as William pulled away, all the tension in the world written on his face.

The self-assured countenance from earlier was nowhere in sight. Instead, Buffy was rewarded with a significant amount of insecurity. His blue eyes were passion filled, practically shining with heady lust and desire, but he said nothing. He gulped, but he didn't speak. Nodding was William's sudden reply; he still neglected to pull away.

Air flew in and out of her mouth; he seemed hypnotized by the action. She slid her hands high until they gripped William's shoulders, every inch of her skin on fire. Every single centimeter between them a distance too far for her liking. Control was a ghost emotion. Buffy hastily grappled with it before all sense flew out the window. Her wet panties were an entreaty and one pet name away from hitting the ground. "I- We-" Damn, where had coherency gone?

Their gazes clashed as she took in deep breaths, rather like lightning meets a metal antenna. Buffy felt the telltale sensation of fingers clenching and kneading her flesh through a chafing top. "You're an amazing kisser," she finally chuckled. William clenched his jaw and smiled, an unnerving combination. Buffy bit her lower lip, caressing his throat tentatively. Calm had to be restored before she leaned in again and stole his mouth with intent she'd never be able to kill. "I don't- I didn't mean for-..." Her own gulp cut her off; William was leaning into her stroking hands. She softened considerably as tension drained away.

He still trembled. William looked like he had something to say but didn't dare whisper a word of it. He didn't seem to want to let go of her, didn't look as if he was ready to chance breaking the spell neither of them had cast on purpose. Hastily gathered nerves fought with reservation in his eyes, stance unsteady as if braced for a fight.

"I didn't mean to jump you," Buffy murmured. She was so grateful he hadn't dropped his hands yet; they supported her quite well. "I just wanted... well, that."

The fact Buffy's warm, soft body was molded against his chest and groin probably had something to do with Spike's control right then. One might also gamble it could have the opposite effect, but shock wouldn't wear. He should be in bed right now, fast asleep, but this wasn't any dream and he was still accepting the fact he wasn't hallucinating. The urge to blink his eyes clear over and over again was acute. He couldn't with her watching him.

Before Spike could stop himself, he said, "Feel free to do it anytime." He panicked momentarily after the words came out, but her blinding smile shut him up real quick, and the apology was forgotten.

Buffy turned pinker somehow. She looked shyly away and his speeding heart skipped a beat. The words were on his lips, begging to be said. He swallowed them. Silence would have to suffice, the emotion in his chest contained, but echoing: *I love you.*

She spoke up gaily, yet somewhat bashful. "I don't think it qualifies as an after school program, though."

Spike chuckled, amazingly. She felt so damn good in his arms he held on tighter. She didn't balk or move away; rather, Buffy wriggled on his knee and snuck in a broken little gasp, so the grin on his face only spread thinner.

Messy golden waves framed her face as she leant back, eyes bright and happy. A goddess... Spike could taste the possessive desire to take her home and keep her there, in his bed preferably, for the rest of their lives. He could barely control the urge to pepper kisses across her cheeks and reddened lips. The bottom one was sucked under a top row of pearly white teeth, and he watched her nibble on it lazily. She was thinking of something, feeling unsure. "But maybe, if you want, we could do it again," she said. "Ya know, sometime when we're not at school. Like after dinner or... or something."

Spike blinked stupidly several times in a row, this time actively trying to clear the fog, fortunately unaware of how he reminded Buffy of Bambi right then.

Her hands gently massaged his biceps, and distraction caught her in its trap. Buffy was frowning, and scared to move away. If she did, would the heat dissipate? Would he leave or reject her? She had never asked someone out before, and right now, the silence was slowly wearing down what confidence she had regarding his affections.

William broke her from the sad dilemma with a hoarse reply. "I'd love that, Buffy."

She smiled warmly, happy and relieved. Spike watched in bewilderment and awe as she leaned up to kiss the corner of his open mouth. *Dear God, I must be dreamin'.*

But he wasn't, and as he reminded himself of this for the umpteenth time, and Buffy wiggled away with an apologetic beginning to a pout, taking the book that had started everything, putting distance between them, it didn't throw a bucket of cold water on his absurd delusions. Nothing was absurd. Nothing suddenly happened to ruin the moment or scare her off. His anxiety was both buzzing and dim, rather like alarm bells muffled by water. He didn't say anything stupid as he watched her strut to a shelf, didn't get caught adjusting his hard on in his jeans before she turned around. Hell, when Buffy came near after shoving the book back into place, making her way to the copier, Spike grabbed a hand without thinking and let her guide them both silently in that direction.

Blissfully unaware of the terror sure to strike the moment they parted, Spike gave in to this sense of... allowance. A right to be with her. It was something he'd never had before. It was entirely unreal and wholly undeserved.

He stroked her wrist tenderly with his thumb.

Buffy picked up the finished copies one-handed and tucked them against her stomach. She was supposed to leave them in the principal's office, so Felicity could pick them up tomorrow morning. Buffy suddenly realized she didn't have a key to the principal's office.

Fortunately, she had already planned on asking William to walk her to her car again, so a detour would likely pose no issue if he said yes. "I uh, I need to put these in the principal's office with a note for Felicity," she murmured, lifting the pile of papers up, forgetting he didn't know who Felicity was. Luckily, William sussed out the details. "If it's locked, would you mind letting me in?"

He shook his head. "Course not."

"Thanks." Buffy took a step closer and warmly squeezed his hand. "William, would you also not mind walking me out to my car after I drop the flyers off?"

Again, without hesitation, and his heart in his throat, he said, "Course not, love."

Buffy smiled...

...then tried to postpone. The moment they left the library was the same moment which would quickly lead to her departure, and she didn't want to let go yet.

However, gentle questions eventually allowed conscious note of the time. They were soon on their way out, and William held the door open for her before closing it behind them.

***

The flyers were safely stacked on a desk corner in Wood's office, and the walk from there to the parking lot had somehow lengthened due to delays with no cause. Neither wanted to separate, so with their hands dropping and rejoining at appropriate intervals, the couple managed to extend the trip by pinched minutes.

Finally tugged relentlessly through the exit doors, they found themselves drifting across the parking lot. She could feel him. Every step she took, he followed; every time Buffy spared a glance, William's eyes were already trained on her. It was a warm sort of feeling, made her nerves tingle, and on her palm his stroking thumb created sensations resembling hot candle wax turning cold.

She turned to him before opening the car door. The Jeep was against her backside, chilly and uncomforting as the wind played with the edges of her skirt. She remembered how his hands had bunched it, how they caressed and squeezed her hips. While the grip he'd taken was just this side of desperate, his fingers did not reach for more intimate corners. Buffy didn't know if that made her feel cherished or disappointed.

She knew the way he looked at her felt intimate. It was sort of like William saw something she couldn't, even if there was a mirror right in front of her. He tilted his head now, gazing with lingering focus, and fresh blood rose to the surface. Her heart beat a little faster, her cheeks felt warm. Buffy knew he was nervous. He stood so still but his thumb and grip on her hand was a bit fast, a bit trembling. She wondered when he had last held hands with somebody.

She couldn't recall the last time she did.

Spike watched her take an indrawn breath. Buffy smiled very kindly at him and while a countdown begun in his head, she said, "So... I guess I'll see you soon."

There was a hint if there ever was one, except the very words made Spike's head spin. He could barely blink let alone reply, and stood there silent, awkward, feeling like an idiot. His thoughts spiraled out of control when her hopeful eyes remained fixed, green in the setting sunlight and gold with want. *I'm gonna bugger this.*

She wanted him to make the next move. Buffy had taken charge in the library, from the kiss that shook his foundations, all the way to the dinner request. Now, it was his turn. His decision, his signal, and he couldn't even twitch a finger.

Buffy swallowed hard, waiting for some kind of response, but similarly aware she may not get one. After all, part of what endeared her to William was his bashfulness, the way he would look at her like a once blind man might the sun, but not speak his mind. If he couldn't tell her his feelings with words, he conveyed them very well with touch and gaze; but she noted that his thumb had finally abandoned the cycle of rubbing her palm.

Forced to quell insecurities, Buffy took a surreptitious breath and leaned up to place a kiss on William's sharp cheekbone. She lingered there and heard him half cough in his throat. Their chests met.

Spike tugged her closer to him. His instincts were suddenly untethered, like a whip was struck to break a thin, thin vine supporting his reservations. She fell off her tiptoes and gasped quietly against his jaw; the hard bulge prodded her stomach and she nuzzled her body closer into the fabric of his uniform.

Spike's voice was very tight but hardly controlled. "I'll call you." Of course, he wasn't sure if he could actually do that, but right now, he believed he could.

Buffy's smile was sweet, but uncertain. "You don't have my number."

*Fuck.* Heat suffused his chest. He wasn't supposed to know her number. "In the book, no?"

It was a pathetic false assumption, but thankfully, it worked. Buffy laughed and dipped until her moist, pretty mouth was well away from his skin. A groan filled his throat. "I didn't think anyone used that local phonebook."

Spike shrugged. "Don't usually have a reason."

Her eyes warmed and her lips slanted. All charm and gentle flirtation, Buffy backed up and opened her Jeep's driver's side door. Slipping between window buttons and the front seat, she tossed her purse in without checking where it landed. "Today was, um-" Suddenly unsure of where her mouth had taken her, Buffy glanced away, hastily biting back emotions. She finished in a voice of forced bold, which didn't sound very bold at all, but he saw the girlish happiness in her eyes, and that was so much more than enough. "I'll talk to you soon, William."

"That you will." He watched as she climbed in before shutting the door for her. Buffy gifted him with a pleasant smile and thanked him. Spike quickly stepped back, and was several paces away when Buffy started the engine.

She got no further than halfway through a two-point turn before he noticed the mark on the ground. Spike frowned and ran ahead, startling her into nearly breaking on his foot.

His hands gripped the edge of the window as Buffy rolled it down. His eyes must have relayed urgency, because she was definitely worried. "What is it?"

Spike indicated the windshield. "The car made a mark on the pavement, love." Nerves took a backseat as they both looked at the spot where Buffy's Jeep had sat since nine this morning. There was a dark green splotch and a matching dribble connecting the circle to the underbelly of her car.

Buffy turned the key in the ignition, reminded by William to put the car in park before she did so, and hopped out. They both walked side by side to the stain. Buffy's frown was severe. "What the hell?"

Spike knelt down, and stuck a finger into the half dried puddle of slime. Buffy cringed behind him. "Your car's leakin' coolant," he said.

His girl let out a very tortured groan, and he tried not to let it affect him.

"What?!" she exclaimed. "I just took it in to get all checked out and stuff. Like a month ago!" That wasn't long for a car, right? Buffy didn't get a tune up every month, but still. She didn't even go to the dentist as often as she visited the auto body shop.

William rose and casually walked to the front of Buffy's Jeep. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Can you open the bonnet, pet?"

Thankfully, she had a very British and sometimes juvenile cousin, who acted more like an overprotective father, living in England, otherwise she might not have known what William meant. Buffy dutifully went to pop the hood and pouted mildly at her car. The windshield displayed nothing but red, then she walked around to stand by his side.

Glancing incomprehensively between William's face and the chaos of her seemingly undamaged engine, Buffy took a step closer when he pointed at a black hose bordering the very front of the boxy cutout. "Got some wear in there. You'll need to refill the coolant 'fore you drive home. Might not get very far usin' it tomorrow mornin' if you don't do it then, too."

Buffy rolled her eyes and slumped. "Great. So does this mean I need to call Larry the mechanic and have him fix it soon?" She really didn't mind Larry. He was a nice old man and always gave her a discounted price for services other customers had to pay full on; however, that didn't mean she liked spending good shoe money on her car.

Besides, every time she went over there, Larry's oldest son had a tendency to hit on her, and he wasn't exactly polite or suave about it. The compliments he served up didn't amount to much more than sexual invitations and leering that made Buffy think he was constantly holding back wolf whistles like a mute construction worker. *Okay, true. But really not fair to Xander or his kind,* she admonished herself.

William shook his head decisively. "No," he said. Buffy missed the jaw clench because he turned to her with flaring eyes. "You don't have to go into that place. You-" He took a deep breath, abruptly breaking contact like a wind changing direction. "You don't have to go there. I can- I'll fix it."

Buffy paused. She stared at his taught cheek. "William... I didn't expect you to- I mean... I- I can pay you. Obviously, I'll pay you."

He couldn't let her do that. Spike shook his head again, harder this time. "No. Don't worry about it."

A moment passed, then, "But-"

"I'd like to do this for you, Buffy."

He could tell she was having trouble with that. She was staring at his profile but Spike could see the girl clearly. Her mouth was open in shock and her eyes were studying him like his silence might reveal more about his intentions if she just looked hard enough. Except some things were better left unsaid.

For one, he would never let a mechanic rip her off for a simple job such as this. Nearly anyone could do it. That was innocent territory, but he was too smart to mention it either way. Spike also didn't like when Buffy went to Larry's Auto Body Shop. *Breathe a word and you're as done as pulled pork.* He knew how the oldest boy looked at her, knew the git made her feel uncomfortable. The wanker had a way of talking about girls that the less said on his opinions, the better. It was probably good Spike had never been left alone in a room with the idiot.

There was no conceivable way she was setting foot in there if Spike could help it, and besides, he had the tools and the ability. After asking her to let him help, the next preemptive method would be accompanying her to the mechanic, or hell, fixing her car in the middle of the night. Of course, that would lead to many, many questions.

Just... anything to keep her safe.

Spike swallowed a sigh. Buffy could only know about a third of his reasons for this. He wanted to fix her car because he liked her. Because he was smitten. That was safe and true and feeding the thankful light in her eyes right now. He could only hope she didn't see too much.

"Thank you. I would really appreciate that."

The words were soft, spoken velvet, and his heart calmed. Buffy suddenly reached out to the leaking hose with her fingers, and Spike hastily snapped her hand back. Startled, she gazed at him in question.

"It's hot, sweets."

She blinked, then nodded numbly, gazing into his eyes. Their hands relaxed together until she had wrapped her fingers around his. Smiling, Buffy squeezed ever so gently and said, "It's not the only thing."

Another something hot caused William's pupils to dilate. He tugged on her hand and Buffy grinned her best bashful, feminine grin. "Can you come over tomorrow?"

He nodded, cobalt stare pointed and wide.

Her smile grew into something the Cheshire cat would be proud of. "Great." Buffy ticked one playful eyebrow. "I'll cook dinner."

In the midst of a gulp, and every single nerve within Spike's body going haywire, his mind turning to mush, he would never be able to guess how the words, "Sounds perfect, love," were uttered. But he managed to say them, and Buffy let him squeeze her hand a little tighter.

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