Buffy gives up checking the time. The minutes have slipped well passed midnight, raising her anger a degree with every second.

I didn't even want to patrol again tonight! I already patrolled once! I hate being stood up if I didn't even want to go in the first place! God men are so USELESS.

She picks the phone up off the bed, keying in Riley's number, then thinking better of it and cancelling the call.

If he wants to spend the rest of the night with his army buddies then fine! I'm not going to tag along after him like a heartbroken schoolgirl!

She drops her stake back into the trunk at the bottom of her bed and kicks the lid shut. She'd twirled her hair into an up-do to keep it out of the way for the slay and she undoes it, letting her hair fall back down over her shoulders. She pulls the rest of her clothes off, leaving them in a heap by the side of her bed and wraps her robe around her, heading for the bathroom.

The house feels lonely and dark, and anger flares harder around her heart at being left out for the night in favor of his army friends.

At least I know he's safe though. He's been acting super twitchy lately, especially after I took that stake to the stomach. Keep feeling like he's going to go off half-cocked and get himself hurt to make himself feel better about it.

In the bathroom she turns the shower on and spends half an hour just basking in the warmth letting her mind drift away on Riley.

Think I'm really coming to the end of this. Of us. He used to be so... dependable. If I'm being honest that was a major draw on him. Sweet, and predictable. I really wanted to want that.

Until I found out he was part of this huge government underground unit. You think that would've made us so right for each other, both fighting for the same side, and no more hiding, but if anything it just made it all complicated. Maybe it could've worked if only one of us was out demon fighting while the other was home being all ignorance-is-bliss-y. Or even if we were in the same special unit or whatever and I wasn't some chosen one. But I don't fit in within his army ranks, and he doesn't want to just be a Scooby on the sidelines. It's not enough for either of us, and he's punishing me more and more for it.

Tears of anger are washed away underneath the torrent of water. He knows I'm here waiting for him. Is he making me wait as some ridiculous power play? Get the upper hand? Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen?

Asshole.

She sighs and shuts off the water, towelling off before wrapping her hair up to dry.

I never get it right. Every guy I go for always has secret depths of being a complete asshole. Angel, with his 'here let me help you let me be on your side oh wait actually that's not going to work for me see you never'. Then manipulative sex obsessed Parker, piling on the sensitive college boy routine before doing a 180 and kicking you to the curb once fun has been had.

Wasn't even that fun...

I guess you have to write off the first time for getting to know you-ness but you kinda expect there to be a second round after the awkward fumbling icebreaker.

And now with Riley... says he's there for me, says he wants to be there for me, but it's only if it's on his terms. Only if I play the part of weak little girl so he can play pretend at being the macho knight-in-shining-kevlar for an hour.

I just want one guy who can be honest about himself. God, send me a man who doesn't act all sweet and nice only for the mask to slip once it's served it's purpose.

She undoes her hair, drying off her locks and shrugging out of her robe before slipping into the sheets. The night is hot and close and her anger has raised her temperature even higher. She wriggles down under cool sheets, letting it sooth her hot skin, but it does nothing to cool her internally. Unbidden the feeling summons thoughts of Spike, the cool of his skin against hers.

If all men are monsters might as well date a monster. At least you know where you stand. There's something to be said for the bad boy routine, it's a lot less surprising when they turn into an asshole.

The real surprise is when they randomly visit your mother in the hospital-

Buffy turns angrily in bed, shaking her head as if she could dislodge thoughts of Spike that way, but he's stuck tight.

God, I'm seriously losing it.

The way he growled, moaned against her even as she pushed him harder, the thought of it turns the heat up inside her to a vicious inferno. The warmth of her room feels cloying, airless, and she moves further into the cold of the sheets, trying to find some respite.

Bet he could cool me down... Wonder if he's cold all over?

Wonder what it would feel like not to have to worry about leaving bruises...

I want that... not necessarily attached to him, or with him, but just once it would be nice not to have to be so careful.

That first kiss had danced on the edge of pain. Feral and wild. A kiss with teeth in it. With hunger underneath it. Passion running through it like a surging river. No hint of gentle, or sweet, but brutal. Almost as though he'd starved for her. Strength against strength, claws on skin.

Like a stream flowing into a river Buffy's thoughts merge into memories of Spike, perched on his lap at Giles', spellbound and desperate for him. He hadn't kissed her gently even then, and Giles' company had done little, or more accurately nothing, to put him off as his hands had roamed with unstoppable force, pulling her closer into him as he wrapped his tongue around hers.

Blind as Giles' had been Buffy had tried to keep the noises escaping her lips as chaste as possible, but Spike had seemed to take a perverse pleasure in seeing how far he could push, wanted to tip her over the edge, kneaded his fingers into her sides, scratched her as he sucked and bit her lips, refused to give her an inch to take a breath. The way he pulled her against him, held her close as she pushed back, both of them knowing she didn't want to be let go, that she was just testing the waters to see how tightly he could really hold her. How much pressure those arms could really inflict...

After such an onslaught her moans had finally escaped, earning a scolding from poor blind Giles, and with a smirk Spike had finally released her lips, but not her waist as his free hand travelled lower. He'd shifted in the chair to let her drop to his side, bringing her closer to him as they tangled tighter around each other. Legs wrapped around each others. He'd caught her wrist in his hand, dragging it down to his crotch, curling her fingers around the hard bulge under his jeans, smoothing her fingers down under his own before travelling up to the button of her pants. Unfastened them before she could stop him, and slid a hand down her stomach muscles and below, enjoying seeing her jump and squirm each time a finger grazed a nerve. She'd moved her lips to his, needed something to muffle the moans about to escape, but he'd pulled back with a grin, wanting to watch her struggle to keep herself quiet without his tongue in her mouth dampening the sound of her need.

Cool fingers found their way under the edge of her underwear, dipping down lower he'd wrapped his whole hand over her pussy. Held her firmly. Greed had filled his eyes while he'd watched her wriggle, as she waited for some little movement from him, waited for a hint of what he planned to do as the anticipation built to a shivering crescendo. Her breathing had started to turn to panting. Gasping. Those ice blue eyes had burned at her, all while his mouth had shushed her silently, motioning towards Giles lying on the sofa, and at that moment he'd slid two fingers down between her lips, grazing over her clit as she jumped in his hands, a trickle turning to a hot river.

She hadn't been able to stop a blush from flooding across her face as she felt how wet she was underneath his fingers, and he'd let her hide her face in the crook of his neck as he rubbed her, teasingly slow, pulled the hood of her clit back to glide a wet finger across it, rolled her back and forth for a while, tipping her towards an unbearable edge before moving lower, deeper, first one then two fingers inside her as she clung to the shirt on his back, terrified that worse noises than moans would reach Giles' ears.

Of course once the spell had ended she'd been mortified. Horrified. Had avoided him for weeks, but thinking about it now, with the cool sheets of her bed wrapping closer around her every time she moves she can't help but replay those moments in her head. Her hand finds its way down between her legs, mimicking the caress he'd inflicted on her then, hips moving, imagining him next to her. Inside her. Not just fingers... lips and tongue... more...

Thoughts of him then, and thoughts of him now, constrict round her mind like a python tightening its suffocating grip, vivid and dark. So vivid that she doesn't here the click of the front door closing.

Spike watches Buffy leave the Bronze with Willow, books under their arms.

The line across his throat where Buffy's forearm pinned him against the wall is burning. Every place she touches him now feels like it's being set on fire, and it's glow doesn't dissipate for hours after.

The evening is still early but he decides he's wasted enough of it. Passed enough time by now surely.

He sets off towards downtown on foot. It's warm out, and sort of damply humid. A sticky sort of heat. A couple up ahead of him seem engrossed each other, walking in tandem whilst locked at the lips, tongues darting in and out of each other's mouths without shame. The girl pulls back a little and a glint of teeth underneath a street light sparkles in the dark. Spike realises he can only hear one heartbeat from the both of them. The demon features have slid seamlessly into place over the girls delicate heart-shaped face, and the man at her side dips his head to run his lips over her fangs.

They turn left into the parking lot of the factory, his arm draped over her shoulders as they climb the steps to the entrance. In the far corner of the parking lot underneath the shadow of an neighbouring building Spike has parked his car in anticipation of the stake out.

Bad pun. He thinks to himself, as he opens the door, settling himself behind the wheel. A few more couples make their way across the lot, climbing the stairs and disappearing within. Two college boys, beers in hand, trip and shove each other, pushing each other towards the door with dares and laughter that echoes across the empty expanse, before ducking inside.

Spike drums his fingers on the steering wheel, impatience starting to make him agitated.

Come on, Soldier Boy. You gotta be itching for it by now.

He turns the electrics on enough for the dash to light up to check the time. Just before midnight. He shuts the car off again, taking a deeper breath. The flask in the glove compartment is mostly full and he pulls it out to take a swig from.

Maybe I could take a gamble... go and get her now...

He takes another swig, trying to settle. Trying to quell the impatience.

Don't be an idiot. He scolds himself. If he's not there and she busts in tearing the place apart then it's over. He'll cover his tracks, and there's no way she'll take my word without proof.

Just want to see her now is all. It's driving me mad-

A figure emerges out of the shadows of an alleyway across from the factory and Spike freezes, recognising the excessively upright gate, the military swing of the arms.

Gotcha.

He waits for Riley to get all the way inside the factory, and a couple agonising minutes more for safety, before starting the car and pulling out of the lot, heading to Revello Drive.