So I've been getting e-mails from both sides of the Movie/Faye-Spike debate.

I think it's safe to say the movie plot has always been secondary - even in third place perhaps - to the Spike/Faye relationship and now Faye's past with Ezekiel. I have no problem admitting that! The last chapter actually made its appearance a lot earlier than it was supposed to, so the flow did get disturbed and I'm unhappy about that. However, in the end I'm glad I moved it because its abrupt, and rather unwelcome (by some) presence, has bought me a lot more time to return to my slower 'flow'. I think the hints to the plot will be easier to spot now and the pace won't seem to drag the way it seems to have for some people.

So Roscoe the bad guy. Predictable? Yes, Rashaka. Very. :) But you guys shouldn't worry too much. Between my penchant for constantly changing my mind, my housefly-like attention-span and my severe short-term memory loss I might still be able to surprise you all.

Thanks for the constructive criticism. You guys really are too goddamn nice to me. Even your criticism makes me all gooey inside.

Oh, FUCK, that sounded gross.

ssg.x.

ps. Still working on the site and wondering what you'd like to see on it (or if you'd like to see a site at all)...It's going to take a while since my schedule is pretty freaking nuts right now, but I thought a nice idea might be to just have a url for now that links to an mp3. Most likely the songs I use for the openings of the chapters. Let me know what would get you guys to visit li'l ol' me and I'll get my sloth-like ass in gear for you and speed up the appearance of the site. Again, thanks so much for reading. :)

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You don't know

What you've done to me

With that voice

With those eyes

With that smile

With that smell

Oh, tonight you're going nowhere

You are lying here with me

Oh, tonight your skin is warm enough

To rid this chill in me

So open up your eyes

Open up your mouth

Let me kiss your forehead

Now the night has fallen down

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Spike couldn't remember any favourite books from when he was a kid.

These days he liked Graham Greene. A few months ago he'd managed to lock himself up for a couple of hours in the tub with Timothy Findley's 'The War'. He was shivering and wrinkled when he finally got out. It had been some time since he'd been able to finish a book in one sitting that way.

He couldn't think of any kid books he'd enjoyed, though.

Oh, wait. There was that one book about the kid in the Old West who gets trapped on top of some barn or silo or something with no water or food and he ends up keeping himself from getting thirsty by sucking on a rock. Spike remembered thinking that was a pretty good book. Funny, though, how all he could remember about it was that bit about the rock. Probably because he thought it was a good survival tip that might come in handy some day.

Jesus, he was a stupid kid.

That unicorn book.

His mother used to read this book to him about this unicorn that gets turned into a human by mistake and there was this bull that was after her. Spike never had a thing for all that fantasy crap. But his mum had a thing for those sorts of books and he wasn't about to begrudge her those attempts at bringing a little magic into her only child's life.

He also liked the way she smelled when she came into his room to read with him. It was the cream she'd put on her face before bed. And her housecoat was warm when she curled her body around his, arms hugging him in her lap as she held the book out in front of them.

He remembered she used to make up little tunes for all the different poems and stuff in the book. And there were lots of them. So many that she never sang the same tune for the same song twice. Except for one. There was one that was her favourite and it always had the same tune.

Why was he thinking about all this stuff right now, anyways?

The tune faintly came to memory for a few seconds and he remembered a couple of lines only just this moment.

"Love may be strong, but a habit is stronger, and I knew when I loved by the way I behaved."

Spike smiled to himself in the crook of Faye's neck and shoulder.

That was kind of romantic.

He toyed with the idea of saying it aloud for about a split second and then almost laughed when he realized how out of character that would be. But the fact that he'd thought about it for even a moment both pleased him and frightened him almost as much as it would have had he spoken the lines to her with his own two lips.

He felt himself changing now and it scared him beyond measure but he couldn't keep from touching her. He kissed her as though he couldn't be sure he was doing it correctly. Gentle, silken kisses against her parted lips. Her eyelids and cheekbones. The warmest, softest place beneath her ear, occasionally, because he shivered inside when she sighed.

He was still throbbing painfully from her earlier assault on him but despite this his hips moved slowly against the slight curve of her belly as his mouth parted further, collapsing into the pool of her gentle gasps and warm breath.

Faye toyed with the waist of Spike's trousers when he lifted his pelvis, adjusting himself so that he lay impossibly close, framed by her warm, still pyjama-clad thighs. She brought a knee up around him, cradling his hips against her own.

The bed creaked softly beneath her careful ministrations and Spike could feel what could only be compared to thousands of flames licking their way down his spine and into his legs when her mouth and nose left his, accidentally brushing against his ear, singing along the line of his neck, as she pressed a heel into the bed in an attempt to pull them both up further onto the mattress. Once her heels were on the bed, he felt the bed dip the tiniest bit as she began to use her newly acquired leverage to press against him even harder.

He groaned into her hair and clutched her face between two tremulant hands. He opened his eyes unconsciously and found himself staring into hers. Green like absinthe and just as effective. He felt his chest seize and sought to relieve the impact on his heart by looking away but he felt her voice on either side of his head, holding it in place as though it were flesh and bone and he found he couldn't move.

"Don't."

Spike's eyes narrowed as though he were staring into the sun. This was different from the last time their eyes met this way. That day he was consumed with hate and his bullshit idea of duty and closure.

But now.

Now he was being consumed by Faye.

He couldn't see her right in front of his face that day.

He was looking straight into her eyes but not seeing a fucking thing.

She had drawn back, he remembered, but she never looked away. Not for a second. He wondered if that's when she began to love him. If she could have loved him at such a time when his heart was so shrunken and selfish and screwed up, she was even more remarkable than he thought he'd realized so many days before.

He wondered if she could see inside him then the way he knew she must be now. He felt so exposed he wouldn't have been surprised to look down at himself and see his soul pinned to his shirtfront.

As though Faye were answering his question, she leaned in closer, two eyes becoming one large glowing jewel in the middle of her forehead when Spike became dizzy with the heady scent of her. All-encompassing. All-encumbering. The only word he knew at that moment was her name.

"Faye..." He breathed.

"I've never seen you before," She said, touching his lips to silence him. "Let me look for a bit."

For the first time since he could remember, they were silent with eyes on eachother. Pouring into eachother.

Spike didn't realize how violently he was shivering until he felt her hand on the small of his back willing him to keep still. Her other hand felt timid and nervous at the waist of his pants. Still her eyes stayed on his. She began to breathe heavily like he was already moving inside her. Her small mouth pouty and swollen. A tear slipping alongside the bridge of her nose on her impossibly perfect face. He thought he could hear music but he was sure he must have imagined it.

His hand closed around hers and he saw the apprehension and self-reproach in her eyes before he guided her hand gently to work on the zipper, raising himself to accommodate the suddenly awkward fingers between them.

Funny, but ever since Spike woke up dreams just didn't seem to cut it anymore.

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++Quote taken from Peter S. Beagle's 'The Last Unicorn'. Lyrics taken from Hefner's 'Love Inside the Studfarm'. Don't sue. I have to get my cat neutered soon and I'm a little short on cash right now.