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Chapter Eight


When Buffy woke again, the first word out of her mouth was, “Giles!”



“Not the first thing I thought you’d say to me in the morning,” a gravely, sleep-laced voice murmured near her ear.



Buffy was suddenly very aware that Spike’s arm hung loosely over her waist, and his back was no longer flush against hers. His chest had replaced his back and his knees were drawn up under hers, and because they were on a cot, he was extremely close to her – so close in fact that she felt how much –



“I just realized he’s out there in the storm,” she squeaked out, half wanting to jump away from Spike and his arousal and half wanting to snuggle closer.



Spike lifted his head and as such moved slightly away. “I don’t hear storming.”



“That’s not the point. Giles doesn’t have a basement at his place, and there’s really no place to shelter at the Magic Box. Oh, god, I should have called him earlier when we were upstairs.” Still, she didn’t move. Spike was normally room temperature, but they’d shared warmth, and she felt comfortable. . . more comfortable than she’d ever felt with Riley.



“The phone line was probably dead earlier,” Spike noted, still partially away from her, “what with the trees and all.”



“Do you think a tree fell on Giles?!” All Buffy could imagine was Giles squashed by a fallen tree. It probably hit him on the head. He was always getting hit on the head.



“God no, pet. Does your Watcher have any trees remotely the size of the trees around your house?”



She felt the tightness in her chest unfurl some. “No. He doesn’t.”



“Well, there you go.”



Without thinking, she leaned back against him. “Thank you.”



He didn’t pull farther away, his hips inevitably moving against hers as he slid back down again. “Didn’t you hear what I said not a minute ago?”



Buffy was too distracted by how much her body was responding to his – just the way it had before. “No, what?” The tone was way too distracted. She must not think of –



“Listening is a virtue, pet.” Well, that served to take her away from inappropriate sexy feelings for Spike.



“I listen,” she insisted.



Spike snorted. “Ha.”



“I’m listening now.”



“I don’t hear any sounds of a storm outside,” Spike said, his fingertips grazing her hip, making her dizzy even when she was lying down. “Which is why – ”



“We should get up and go investigate?” Buffy asked, sitting up abruptly, which was something she should have done as soon as she woke up. Only she had been too distracted by worries for Giles. Yep, Giles.



“We’re probably in the eye of the storm.” Spike’s voice was low and deep.



Buffy scrambled off the cot, noticing a little light in the small basement windows. Something was different. “And that’s when we should go out and find the source of the storm. And find Giles.” She grabbed her boots, unzipping them.



“Yeah, and um, pet?” Spike was looking her up and down with a smirk on his face.



Her glare felt forced kind of like after she and Spike had been betrothed. “Yeah?”



“You’re still wearing your pajamas.”



“So?”



He squinted. “Is that a sushi print?”



Buffy pouted. “They’re cute, and I like them.” She pivoted and hurried toward her tote bag. Unzipping it, she fished out a bright red top, jeans, lacy bra, and socks. “Shoot.” She’d forgotten underwear. How could she remember bras and not underwear?



“Shoot, what?” Spike asked.



Buffy almost giggled at Spike saying, “Shoot.” She couldn’t answer his question though. “Nothing.”



Spike appeared at her elbow, standing shoulder to shoulder with her as if her underwear debacle required readiness. “Not nothing. What is it?”



She took a small step away from him and confessed before she could stop herself, “I forgot my underwear. I can’t go without changing. . . why am I telling you this? I’ll just go upstairs and get – ”



“No!” Spike practically shouted.



“No?”



“Trees. Two of them. Maybe more.” Spike was looking shifty as he left her side to shrug on his duster.



She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly self-conscious that her hair was mussed. She probably didn’t look very Slayer-y. “What are you not telling me?”



“Nothing, pet. The trees. The second floor’s not safe. Maybe even parts of the first.”



She stalked toward him and gave him a little shove but a far less forceful one than usual. They’d just cuddled together after all. It would be totally weird to throw him against the wall right after that. Unless it was for – “Spit it out. The truth.”



“No idea what you’re going on about.” Spike’s left hand went to his duster pocket. He really wasn’t subtle.



“What’s in your pocket?” she demanded, staring pointedly at his hand-filled pocket.



“Nothing.”



“Bullshit. Show me.”



“Fine.” He didn’t roll his eyes; instead, they were filled with something like. . . worry? “But you have to promise me that you won’t go for the nose.”



“Fine,” she echoed. “I promise.”



He produced a pair of silky bright purple panties from his pocket – the kind that had lace trim but was still soft against her skin. He shrugged sheepishly. “They were sticking out of the drawer.”



Buffy’s cheeks were hot as she snatched the undergarment from his hand. She noticed he was holding it out to her and let go quite easily – so easily that she almost stumbled. “That’s gross and weird, Spike. Don’t you know it’s kind of stalker-y to do that kind of thing?”



“You don’t sound brassed off.” He sounded surprised. “And I thought you might need them.” That last part was kind of a lie; she could tell by the way his eyes went to the side when he said it.



Well, she’d give him something to be surprised about! “I guess it’s a good thing you’re a weirdo.” What?! She was totally letting him off the hook; what was wrong with her? She snatched her clothes off the air mattress and stormed over to the more private place near the stairs. “Don’t look.”



“You’re really not going to toss me around the room?”



She snorted and pulled down her pajama bottoms with her back to him. Did that mean she trusted him? Or worse that she secretly liked that it might mean he was still attracted to her if he stole her panties? “You’d like that.”



“I. . . I’m not bloody looking.”



She glanced over her shoulder; he was deliberately facing the wall. Ugh. Not knowing what to say, she hurriedly changed, and when she was zipping up her boots, she felt him watching even if she didn’t see him doing so. She didn’t have time for more confrontation. That would have to come later. “Weapon up. We have a hellmouth to investigate. After we find Giles.”



Spike squinted toward the window. “Seems overcast enough.”



“You won’t burst into flames?” Buffy wasn’t sure if her question revealed how much she worried about him being all dusty and how much it meant that she needed him for the possible fight ahead.





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