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Chapter Two


Buffy grunted as she nudged the door open with the heel of her boot and trundled into her empty house with two arms loaded down with bags. As she plunked the bags on the kitchen island, she sighed.



“Stupid people buying all the water and toilet paper and batteries and food. Why is everything gone at the store if they’re just going to leave town anyway?” The line of vehicles headed out of town had been bumper to bumper and sluggish.



“Ah, pet, bought out the store, eh?”



Buffy’s head jerked up to see Spike lounging in the doorway of the dining room, his duster missing, and his arms looking really nice in his usual black T-shirt. Spike had good arms. Did she just think that? She forced herself to scowl at him. “What are you doing here?”



“Just standing about.”



“In my house.” Buffy pulled the packet of string cheese out of a bag along with a huge pack of bacon (more than she’d ever need) and a six-pack of diet Coke. Sadly, the store had been out of Tab. “Not a place to lurk. Why aren’t you outside?” Ignoring how his eyes were following her, she tugged open the refrigerator door with two fingers and started shoving things on different shelves.



“In case you hadn’t heard, there’s a hurricane coming. Rare thing around here. I don’t fancy being outside.”



“You could hunker down in your crypt or head out of town like everyone else.”



Spike meandered into the kitchen, looking oddly less swagger-ish than usual and sort of. . . hopeful? “It’s still daylight. Crypt is far away, and I can’t exactly go on foot.”



“And yet, you got here in the daylight.”



He didn’t bite on her barb, instead pulling three bags of chips out of the bags. “These go in the larder?”



Buffy was confused for a second and then realized he meant the pantry. She nodded automatically, finding her annoyance at the vampire in her home slipping down a notch. “Yeah. Thanks.”



As Spike tucked the chips away, he asked, “What’s with all the snack food?”



Buffy huffed at him and repeated what he’d already said, her words dripping with sarcasm. “In case you hadn’t heard, there’s a hurricane coming. A once-in-a-lifetime storm. The kind that never hits California because of weather. . . stuff I don’t understand.” She picked up the one gallon of water and six-pack of bottled water she’d been able to find.



Spike plucked out a can of Spam. “Why do you need ten cans of Spam? And five of. . . Beanie Weenies? Do you even eat this stuff?”



Loading the water in the fridge, Buffy peeked over her shoulder at him. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. “I panicked.”



He lifted an eyebrow at her as she turned toward him and tucked her hands in her back pockets.



She shrugged. “It’s protein.”



Spike gazed at the can in his hand almost thoughtfully. “If you want, I could probably do something with it. Make it somewhat palatable.”



Mixed emotions that she couldn’t decipher filled her chest. He cooked? And was offering to cook for her? “But you aren’t staying here with me during this. If that’s what you’re implying.”



He regarded her as if trying to sort something out. “Why are you staying on the hellmouth? It’s about to become a whole lot more hellacious when this storm gets ahold of it.”



Buffy didn’t trust Spike, but ever since their Acathla treaty and maybe even when he returned to Sunnydale all heartbroken over Dru, Buffy knew something had shifted in how she viewed him even though outwardly she couldn’t let him see it. She couldn’t let herself see it either. Not unless she squinted and looked at it sideways. He’d done a lot of really bad stuff, too. Still, her response to his query was automatic. “Because Giles thinks something else is going on that’s causing the storm to pull ashore here instead of skimming up the coast.”



Spike set the can of Spam on the counter, his fingers lingering over the edge of it. He pressed his lips together, and for some reason, Buffy found herself remembering how those lips felt on hers – so soft and gentle but with an energy behind the kisses that left her feeling like she wanted him to push her up against a wall already. She mentally kicked herself. Stupid thoughts, stupid memories, stupid Willow-spell-gone-wrong. “I’ll stay. If it’s something supernatural, I’ll help.”



Against her better judgment, Buffy heard herself say, “Okay.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “But no funny business, or there’s a stake with your name on it.”



“I’ll hold you to it, pet.” She blushed again when he looked at her with those blue, blue eyes and winked at her. Damn him. He would like it if she tried to stake him.





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