Giles rapped on Buffy's office door, interrupting her very pleasant post-lunch daydreams. She'd been recalling how Spike had dropped her off last night, then shown at her bedroom window a half hour later, doing his best not to fall out of the tree and claiming he couldn't sleep a wink without her. He was such a cuddly, tactile freak. But then, when it came to Spike, so was she. Giles had returned home two days ago, on Wednesday, and she had barely slept at all Wednesday night without her boyfriend-shaped teddy bear. So when Spike had rapped on her windowpane last night, Buffy had been secretly happy to see him, even as she'd pretended to bitch him out for being so needy and irresponsible. When his face had fallen and he'd turned to go, she'd wrapped her arms around him from behind to prevent him from leaving. Buffy had giggled madly and hung on for dear life as he'd tried to climb out the window with her clinging to his back like a monkey.

One round of make-up smoochies later, she'd fallen asleep without any problem, wrapped in the safety of his strong arms. The best part had been trying to sneak Spike out of her home early in the morning, before her mother caught him in her room. Buffy didn't know if her mom would have actually freaked to find Spike in her bed, considering she was twenty-two years old and they'd remained clothed all night, but it was still fun to creep around like the naughty teenager she'd never been.

"Are you ready to meet now?" Giles said.

"Yes sir, boss-man." She and Spike had sent Giles regular reports while he'd been in Bath, but they'd yet to sit down together since he'd returned.

"Buffy. The only appellation worse than boss-man is that ridiculous G-man Xander insists on calling me. Please. I have missed you greatly, but not enough to let your absurd nickname slide."

"That's a no on the boss-man. Check. Hmm." She pretended to think, tapping her pencil against her lips. "How about marathon-man instead? Is it okay if I call you marathon-man?""

"Mar- marathon-man? Why on earth would you call me that?"

"That's what Mom called you," she sing-songed. The glasses came off, and Giles polished them so hard, Buffy was afraid he was going to crack a lens before his stammering, blushing fit ended. "Don't worry," she said, trying to console him. "The marathon-man thing runs in the family."

A lens cracked with an audible snap, and Buffy eeped, covering her face as she realized what she'd admitted. "Please pretend you didn't hear that," she said through her hands.

"Hear what?" Giles asked, his voice strained. "I'm fairly certain I haven't heard a word you've spoken for the last several minutes." He gripped his glasses tighter, then very slowly, and with a great amount of dignity, tucked them into his shirt pocket, ignoring the broken pieces. "I was wondering, Buffy, if you might have a moment to go over the numbers now?"

Cheeks still flaming, Buffy spoke from behind her hands. "Yes, Giles, I do. I'll be right there, and we can conduct business, like regular business-conducting people."

"Very good."


When the echo of Buffy's heels clicking down the hallway had died out, his uncle rose and closed the door to his office. "Spike – William," he said. "Now that you and Buffy are in a relationship, have you spoken with her regarding your true identity? I am afraid I shan't be able to keep up this pretense day after day, and I shall inevitably slip and reveal your given name. Never mind that it is unfair to Buffy to maintain such a deception. When you were no more than co-workers, I was willing to go along with your charade, despite my reservations. But now – this is indefensible, William."

Spike hung his head. "Don't I know it." Wishing for a drink to calm his nerves, and steadfastly ignoring the urge, he said, "Tried to fess up a few times, but I couldn't go through with it. Got as far as telling her my name was Bill. Smart girl that she is, I'm sure she's already sussed out Bill is short for William, but no, I haven't told her I'm the William she knows. S'on my to do list."

"I see. And how do you imagine she is going to take this news?"

"Not well?"

"Precisely."

The weight of Rupert's disapproval forced Spike to meet his gaze. "I am going to, you have my word. As soon as this project of hers is over, and she doesn't have so much on her plate."

"And may I inquire why you didn't divulge the truth the moment your relationship turned romantic? Surely you realize that with Buffy, complete candor is always the best policy."

"Realize it, yes. Be man enough to do what I knew I had to? No, I sodding well wasn't, and each day I put it off, it became more impossible a task. I understand I have to man up and do it, though, and I will. Next Sunday." Spike scrubbed his hands across his face. "When she dumps me on my ass for it, you'll put in a good word for me, won't you? Tell her how I'm a coward, not a liar."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Not bloody likely, but let's hope."

Despite his uncle's reprimands, Spike remained wound up thanks to his earlier conversation with Jessica. He spent most of the afternoon flitting about the club, unable to focus. If she did come back tonight, he wanted the Dingoes to be ready for her, and even if she didn't, there were plenty of others to impress. The band hadn't been going at it full bore with Devon absent, but that needed to change. Spike had a whole list of things for them to work on tonight, ways to impress the representative and her agency. Problem was, the Dingoes all had day jobs, and he couldn't share his ideas until the band members arrived. What with already having to avoid Buffy in order to keep from blurting his news, and waiting impatiently for the rest of the band to arrive, he could barely contain his nervous energy.

As soon as they'd all trickled in, he hurried them to his uncle's empty office and shut the door. "Look, here's the deal. I heard some buzz about your band around the club. Seems like there might be a booking agency interested in you – one with the kind of pull you're looking for if you want to hit it big – so you lot need to put on your best show tonight. Let them see what you're capable of. They haven't had much chance to hear Devon and Buffy together, so let's let them, yeah?" He faced Devon. "You need to give it your everything for as long as you can. Better to leave the stage after three of your best renditions ever than stick around and muddle through five more mediocre ones if you don't have the energy to continue."

"Screw you," Devon said, pushing himself to stand. "Who the hell made you the boss of my band?"

"Devon," Oz said. "The man's trying to help us. He knows what he's talking about."

The lead singer rolled his eyes. "If he does, then why doesn't he have his own band, huh?"

"He knows how to manage." Buffy moved to stand at Spike's side. "Band managers don't have to have had their own success to know how to do things properly. Just hear him out," she said, her tone turning placating. "We don't have to do what he says, but maybe he'll have some good ideas. This might be our only shot at impressing the right people, Devon. It can't hurt to put on the razzle-dazzle."

Devon grumbled, but waved at Spike to continue as he sat back down.

"Right. From what I overheard, they're liking how you two sound together," he lied. Jessica had said no such thing, but he was positive she would have. "So let's put the duets up front, and anything you can harmonize on without much practice. And…" Spike gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue. "Know it's a bit awkward with you not being so mobile at the moment, Devon, but if you and Buffy can practice some of the more, uh, intimate moves we've been using for 'Hither' before you take the stage tonight – add a little sizzle…" Buffy turned her wide eyes on him, and he gave her an encouraging smile, all the while trying to beat back the feelings of jealousy that were roaring out of control at the idea of some other pillock touching his girlfriend.

"You're right, we should work on that," Buffy agreed, even though her tone clearly said she wasn't sure at all. "We can practice back here, I guess." She touched Spike's hand, seeking reassurance, before she turned to Oz. "You good with letting Sam and the Troll take care of host duties so we can work on this?"

"Of course," Oz replied. When the others fell into conversation, the orange-haired man drew Spike aside. "You certain about the sizzle? Devon and Buffy don't exactly have the same chemistry you two do. What if it falls flat?"

Oz's assertion that there was no chemistry between his girlfriend and some other man sent a flood of warmth through Spike's chest, even though a lack of chemistry would be a bad thing for the band. "If they do fall flat, you'll see it in the next few minutes and know to scrap that part of it." He looked at Buffy laughing with Devon. "She's a clever one, though, eh? I have the feeling she'll figure something out. Your other job, mate – the more important one – is to keep Devon from being a dick tonight. Remind him you've got to have more than a pretty face and a good voice to make it in this business."

Oz gave Spike an appraising look. "You know, your better bands – the ones who make it – tend to have good friends in their corner. The kind who use their own mistakes to help others out."

He narrowed his eyes, curious, but Oz didn't add to his statement. "You been to London in the last few years?" Spike asked.

"Been to YouTube. Seen some amazing bands that didn't make it big, and it wasn't for lack of talent. Or pretty faces."

Spike smiled wryly, no trace of bitterness in his voice when he spoke. "Yeah. That happens a fair bit. Or so I've been told." Oz nodded and turned away, leaving Spike to wonder just how much the shorter man knew of his own musical career, and why he hadn't said anything before. He preferred it that way, but still. It was curious.

He spoke to the group at large. "One more thing. Whatever merch you've got, get it all out there tonight. Have some good-looking girls selling it, create a buzz. The music industry favors those who are already successful, and they're looking for musicians who are willing to work for that success. Show them you're already there." The Dingoes nodded their understanding, and Buffy and Devon began a hurried conversation.

"Let me know what you need to get that set up," Spike said. After pausing to give Buffy a quick kiss, he dashed off to talk to his uncle and see what they had in the way of video equipment, so they could get tonight's performance up on the internet and garnering hits before morning


"What a weekend," Buffy groaned when she climbed back in bed after a quick trip to the restroom, eyes still half-shut. "Hooray for Sundays."

"Hooray indeed," Spike said. "Got the whole day to ourselves. Nothing to do but let me pamper you, least 'til you and Willow go do whatever it is you birds do when you get together."

"This I like to hear." She wiggled her toes, running them up and down Spike's calf. "How many more times do you think we can get away with sneaking you into my bedroom before Mom discovers she's been playing unwitting host to you every night?"

He stretched like a cat, and Buffy admired the view, ghosting a hand over his bare torso. "Fair bet she already knows. Rupert's already sussed out I haven't been spending the nights there."

"Oh. Darn. And here I thought we were being all clandestine."

"It's not so bad. 'Specially since I have the feeling your mum's room went unused last night. Think the older generation's taking advantage of my absence to have a love nest of their very own."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Can we please not mention that? No groininess allowed when it comes to the old people. In happy-Buffy-fantasy-land, Giles spent the night on his couch, thank you very much." Her frown deepened into a full-blown pout. "Why didn't you say something when you got here? Dawn spent the night at Janice's, which meant there was nooooo reason to keep our clothes on. And keeping your clothes on when you don't have to? Should be a crime."

Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth. "Is that right, now? Glad to see we agree. Though you have to admit we were both too tired for shagging last night. No way I could have given you a proper seeing to."

"Maybe. Still. We could be making up for it right now." She tugged at her shirt, but Spike halted her.

"Go check, see if your mum's here. I'd hate to be wrong, kitten. She might overlook me spending the night, but I don't fancy the dirty looks Joyce'll give me if she catches me out ravishing her daughter right down the hall from where she's sleeping."

Buffy bounded out of bed, hurrying to do as Spike said. No car in the driveway, but she double-checked the downstairs and even peeked in her mom's and Dawn's rooms before sounding the all clear. "Looks like we've the house to ourselves."

"And the day just keeps getting better."

"Yes it does." Buffy bumped her door shut with her hip, then locked it for good measure. "You want to know an interesting fact?" He nodded, and she pointed to her bed. "This bed is a virgin bed. Innocent. Untouched." She moved closer, peeling off her top as she went, and paused at the foot of her bed. "It has never seen the sex."

"You're making me feel sorry for your bed, kitten."

"Am I?"

Spike crossed his arms behind his head. "Know this isn't the kind of thing a modern man is supposed to feel, but I have to admit it's giving me a thrill to know no one else has had you in your girly bed. I get to be the first."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Who said anything about having me?"

He nodded at her chest, leering at her hardened nipples. "A picture's worth a thousand words, princess. You gonna come here, or just tease me?"

She weighed her options, then decided she wasn't much in the mood for teasing. Not when they'd had to restrain themselves for the last several days. Teasing could come later, when her aching need was satisfied. Buffy shimmied out of her pajama bottoms and divested him of his black sweats with a quick yank. She crawled up his body, covering it with her own and enjoying his hard, naked flesh beneath her. Reaching into the bedside dresser, she fumbled around until she found the strip of condoms she'd hidden in there, just in case.

Condom in hand, she said, "I need you. Now."

"Right to it, then." Spike slipped his arms around her, tangling one in her long hair as the other caressed her lower back, and Buffy wriggled against him, moaning his name when he promptly hardened against her belly. His hand slid lower, to tease between her legs. "Are you wet for me, love?" She didn't bother to answer; the ease with which his fingers slipped against her folds was answer enough. Instead, she sat up, grinding into him as she unwrapped the condom.

When he was positioned and ready, Buffy twined her fingers with his and brought them to her mouth to kiss the backs of his hands. She sank down an inch, just enough to feel him spreading her open. "Spike?"

"Yeah?"

She kissed his fingertips one by one, making sure his gaze remained locked on her. "I love you." His eyes widened in awe, and she plunged down before he could form a response.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, and propped himself up on his elbows to look into her eyes as she began a rhythm. "You mean it?"

She smiled sweetly, entranced by the look of wonder on his face. Buffy tugged him upright until they sat face to face and cupped his jaw, thumbs tracing those well-defined cheekbones as she stared into his wide blue eyes. He held still, breathless. "Yes. I love you, Spike." He blinked and swallowed heavily, cupping her face in return as he pressed tiny kisses everywhere.

"God, I love you, Buffy. Love you so bloody much," he said, punctuating each word with a kiss. She began to glide up and down his length once more, and Spike picked up the rhythm, supporting her bottom when she wrapped her legs around his waist. Buffy slid her arms under his and held him tightly against her, belly to belly, breasts pressed firmly against his chest, clitoris sliding against him as they moved. The way he kept hold of her gaze, looking deep into her eyes as if trying to meld their souls, breath hitching and expression incredulous, had Buffy spiraling towards orgasm faster than she'd ever done before.

Just as her lashes fluttered shut in ecstasy, he said, "Look at me, baby. Please?" She did, and shuddered with the force of the love she saw there. Spike stiffened, then thrust into her, groaning in time with his release. He dropped his forehead to rest against hers. "What you do to me, woman," he said with a shiver, and Buffy hummed in agreement, tightening her hold on him as he did the same. His entire body began to shake as his head fell against her shoulder, and she realized with a start that he was crying.

"Spike?" she said, alarmed. "What…?"

He didn't answer, just gripped her tighter, and Buffy held on to him and waited. Finally, he said to her shoulder, "I'm a bad, bad man. I don't deserve you." He looked up, eyelashes dark with his tears. "You're so radiant. Full of warmth and goodness. I don't deserve your love."

"How about you let me decide that," she whispered, terrified by the heartache she saw in his eyes. Buffy kissed away his tears, desperate to ask what it was that had him so worried, but afraid of the answer. While he clutched at her like a man drowning, her mind went back and forth, debating whether to ask him outright if there was something he needed to tell her.

Spike took the decision out of her hands. "Got to use the loo, pet," he said, attempting a manly sniff.

"Oh. Okay." She climbed off of him, wrapping the sheet around herself as he went to the door, opened it, and poked his head out to listen. He disappeared down the hall, bare-assed, and Buffy heard the shower start up minutes later. When Spike returned, hair damp and curly, drops of water dotting his skin and towel slung low on his hips, she was curled against her headboard. She watched him carefully as he padded closer, rubbing himself dry.

"Hope you don't mind," he said. "Figured I ought to get that taken care of before anyone came home." He gestured to the clock, which showed just past noon. "Reckon we won't be alone much longer."

"No, it's fine. Good thinking." Buffy chewed her lip. "Spike… Are you – are we okay?"

He dropped down to the edge of the bed and leaned forward to capture her lips. "Still getting used to how I turn into a right nancy-boy 'round you, love," he answered when the kiss ended, and Buffy could see the fear lurking behind his bravado. Something was off, but he wasn't admitting to it. "Hard to keep up the manly act when I start sniveling every time we get intimate."

Buffy scooted closer to him. "You know it only makes me love you more, right?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Bloody women. Can't let me get a bit of my own back." His face softened. "It's nice to hear, though. That you love me. Even the nancy part of me. Thank you."

"Well if you can love my inner bitch, I can love your inner girl. Fair is fair." Spike snorted and tackled her to the bed, tickling her, and Buffy screamed in laughter.

"Hello?" Dawn called out from downstairs. "That screaming better not mean what I think it does!"

The pair of them froze, and then Buffy began to giggle helplessly when Spike yelled, "Go away Bit, I'm busy ravaging your sister."

"You're disgusting," Dawn yelled back. "I'm going outside to water the plants, and when I'm done, you two better be downstairs and decent, or I'm telling Mom." The front door slammed and the house was quiet once more, except for Buffy's giggles.

"Good thing she didn't come upstairs." Buffy smacked him hard across his bare ass, which would have been visible though the door he'd forgotten to shut. "She would have been traumatized for life."

His eyes darkened. "I remember you saying you wanted to return the favor, pet, but now is hardly the time." Buffy gulped when she realized he meant a spanking, and gulped again as his erection grew before her eyes, standing proud and tall within a matter of seconds.

"Put that away," she hissed.

Spike lowered himself to nudge against her folds. "Can think of somewhere I want to put it. How long does it take to do the watering?"

"The way Dawn does it? Five minutes. Unless she wants to be good and sure we're not naked when she comes back in."

He leapt off the bed, shut and locked her door, then grabbed the strip of condoms from where it had fallen to the floor. "Roll over onto all fours, and we'd best hope she makes it ten." Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but Spike set his tongue dancing over his teeth, and gave her a look filled with such promise she swore her toes curled. She hurried to oblige, ripping off her shirt and dropping to her hands and knees.

"Scoot backwards, to the edge." He gripped her hips and helped her into the position he wanted, his obvious excitement releasing her own fresh rush of slick moisture. Spike spread her wetness with his condom-covered cock, pushed her upper body down, flat against the bed, and gripped her hips. "Ready?"

"God, yes."

Without warning, he plunged into her, without any pretense of gentleness. Buffy gasped into her mattress, trying to stay quiet as began a series of hard thrusts that filled the room with the illicit sound of flesh smacking flesh. One of his hands slipped around to rub her clit, and he changed his angle slightly with each thrust until she cried out, hands scrabbling to hang on to something. "Oh yeah, that's my girl," he said. Spike maintained his punishing pace until she bucked backwards against him with helpless jerks, gripping her sheets so hard she pulled them right off the bed, screams muffled by the bunched fabric she stuffed into her mouth. Buffy hung limp in his grip, dazed, throbbing and trembling, while he pistoned harder, grunting in time to the rhythm of his hips. With his own cry, Spike slumped forward, body heavy and slick with sweat. They lay together in a daze, panting and gasping.

"Okay, wow," Buffy said when her fingers and toes had stopped tingling and she could think again. "Quickie sex has merits too."

Spike rolled off of her and glanced at the clock. "Six minutes. That leaves four for getting dressed and getting downstairs."

"You do that, superman. First, I need to lay here and recover. Then it's my turn to shower." She let go of her sheets and flopped onto her back, next to him. "I don't suppose I could talk you into making something to eat too?"

"Course you can." He dropped a kiss onto her shoulder. "As long as you can wait 'till my legs work again. And you don't mind eggs and toast. That's about as far as my culinary skills go."

She grinned at him. It was what he always made, and she wasn't sick of it yet, far from it. To Buffy, eggs and toast had come to define her mornings with Spike.

"My favorite."


Later, under a tree at the park and with his guitar in hand, Spike sang to Buffy. The dappled sunlight danced in her hair as she sat on a blanket listening, a soft smile upon her face. His heart ached. She'd told him she loved him, and it made everything so much harder. Harder to wait one last week to tell her the truth, harder to stick to his resolve to come clean and risk losing everything.

"That's beautiful," she said when he finished. "I can sing, but I can't write. Not one note."

"I find myself writing quite a bit lately." All about her, of course. Same as ever. For the briefest of moments, he considered playing the very first song he'd written for her, the one about the library, just to see her reaction. The desire was short lived, though. Today wasn't the day.

Buffy lay back, hands pillowing her head. "When did you start writing songs? I want to hear them all."

"In my teens. Most of it's punk, though, and even more is utter tripe. Not the thing for an afternoon in the park with your girl."

"Don't care. Wanna hear them all." She rolled to her stomach, chin cradled in her hands, and scissored her feet in the air. "Wanna know everything about you, silly. Oooh. Do you have any pictures from when you were younger? I have to see those. I can't believe Giles doesn't have any pictures around."

Spike grinned at her enthusiasm. "Not the sentimental sort, old Rupert. I do have some pictures of me and my mum tucked away in the bottom of my closet. We'll pull them out after I get my own flat, and you can ooh and aah over how cute I was when we unpack. Or… or why wait, how about next weekend? Sunday, when the contest's over and we've nothing more to worry about. I'll pull everything out and let you go through it. You can see all my kiddie pictures, go through the shoeboxes of my life, everything." He hoped she'd remember this moment when he told her the truth of who he was, hoped she would realize he'd never intended to keep his past a secret.

Buffy crawled over to him, curled up by his side, and laid her head against his chest. Her hand ferreted its way under his shirt to rest over his heart. "All your dirty little secrets… Am I going to be shocked and dismayed?"

He slipped his fingers through her long, blonde hair, enjoying the silken slide across his skin. "Reckon there might be a surprise or two," he told her, voice rough. "But nothing too dismaying." He bloody well hoped.

Reaching for the housing ads, Buffy settled into a more comfortable position, her head in his lap as she perused the newspaper and the choices they'd already circled. Spike closed his eyes, his back against the tree trunk, and enjoyed the peace of the moment.