CHAPTER 7

Before continuing to Willow's room, Buffy made a pit stop in the bathroom. She peeled off her work gear and toweled the moisture from her skin as best she could before slipping into her spare underclothes. Her jaw was definitely sore but the tingling in her limbs (and other places) took her mind off her facial throb.

I'm not going to start this again, she chided herself. He was on her mind-again. She had had enough of that on the walk home. Thirty minutes of Spike think time was more than enough for her. Too much, in fact.

'You're gonna crave me…' his voice sauntered into her mind. She was so not starting this.

"Show's where your priorities are slayer," she said to the weary face in the mirror. She scrubbed her hair with the towel and wrapped it around her head. She had to get her mind right. If the first thing on it was craving Spike after being decked by your double, then you had it bad.

"Have what bad?" she asked herself. But that was a question that she was definitely not going to answer.

She left her clothes in a heap and made her way to Willow's room, a second towel wrapped around her body.

Don't want Spike seeing the goodies. She shuddered involuntarily (for the umpteenth time) at the thought of Spike and…goodies.

Willow was sitting Indian style in the middle of her bed and caught the shiver.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"YeahImfine," Buffy blurted out. "Why wouldn't I be?" She refused to meet her friend's eye and made a beeline for the clothes Willow had set out on a chair.

"Well, considering you just got walloped by…well, by yourself, you have one free pass to not okay-ville."

Buffy sighed inwardly as she traded the towel for sweatpants. At least some things are safe.

"Well, yeah. I mean it hurt but I'll be fine."

"You know, you're taking this 'girl-looks-like-me-and-wants-to-punch-my-face-in thing pretty well," Willow said.

Buffy looked at her friend and was greeted by a deadpan expression. Two seconds later, Willow burst into a smile.

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

"I see," Buffy replied. She removed the towel around her head and began combing through her hair. There were still vestiges of grease strewn about. "I need a shower bad."

"Yeah, you do," a voice said from the hall. Both Willow and Buffy jumped. A slight 'eek' escaped the redhead's lips. Amused at the reaction, Spike sauntered in the room. He held his soiled shirt in hand and the light reflected the residual water from his upper body.

Buffy was mesmerized. Spike's arms swung cockily back and forth, his six-pack flexing with every step. His black jeans clung to his thin hips and Buffy could make out the sharp groove where his abs connected with his lower body. At that moment, a trickle of water dripped down his chest and over his abs. Buffy's only coherent thoughts involved honey, caramel and Spike's gorgeous six-pack. For starters.

"And myself needin' a good ole' romp in some hot water too, well…" he let the thought linger and traced his fingers across his chest. Buffy knew exactly where his mind was heading. She should have, since she had beaten him to it.

"Wow, Spike," Willow said, breaking the silence, "looks like somebody works out." She had also been transfixed by the vampire's taut body. Her thoughts, however, didn't reach the plateau of lust of other two. "Why if I weren't playing for the other team, I just might have helped myself to…" she stopped when both he and Buffy tore their eyes off one another to gaze at her.

"I mean…well," she stumbled. She put her fingers to her mouth. "Willow shutting up," she said and 'zipped' her lips shut.

Her distraction had given Buffy a much needed breather and when the slayer spoke, all (or most) of her faculties were re-focused on the important events of the day.

"So how is she?" she asked Spike.

"She's sleeping," he replied, his brows furrowing with his concern for the unnamed girl. "The bit just…"

"Bit?"

"Yeah, I called her baby bit," he pondered for a moment, "don't know why either. Just felt right."

"Well, I don't think Dawn's gonna like that you…oh my God, Dawn." Buffy looked at the clock with wide eyes. "She's going to be home soon…"

"Buffy," Willow interrupted as she hopped off the bed, "don't worry. Tara went to get her a few minutes before you came in."

Buffy sighed audibly before turning her attention back to Spike. "So what do you know anything else about her? A name? A place…?"

"That'd be a no, luv. Told Red here everything I know," Except that she doesn't have a bloody reflection. "Fancy we'll have to wait till she's done playing Sleeping Beauty 'fore we get some answers."

At the mention of that, the scene Buffy had walked in on earlier came back to her.

Her arms wrapped around his neck like he was the only thing holding her in this reality. The desperation in her embrace and then she kissed him.

"Well, guess you're her Prince Charming," Buffy said derisively, "better go finish your work."

Both Willow and Spike looked at her with puzzled eyes before it dawned on the vampire just what she was getting at. He walked up to Buffy and despite Willow's stares, moved in as if to kiss the slayer. For a moment she leaned in to him but the touch of his cool skin scalded her to the core and she jumped back. Spike looked at her amusedly, still leaning forward and whispered, "Jealous?" before he backed off.

Buffy was flustered and the red that crept from her thighs and onto her face was difficult to mask. She hurried to the mirror as if finishing her hair and it wasn't until then that she realized she hadn't put her shirt on.

"Lookin' for this, luv?" She turned around to find the shirt Willow gave her dangling seductively off the vampire's middle finger, swinging side to side. She snatched it from him, hastily tugging it over her head. She wanted to say something to him so bad she could taste it. But, as always, he had a way of making her lose any type of verbal proficiency.

Willow, for her part, had watched the exchange with interest. Something's going on between those two, she said to herself, quite confident of her supposition. She tagged a mental Post-It Note to the thought and moved on.

"So what are we gonna do about her?" she asked.

"I guess we'll have to wait for her to get up, like Spike said, and have a Scoobie meeting."

"I think it should be here instead of the Magic Box. She didn't look exactly like she could run a marathon," Willow added.

"Red's got a point," Spike chimed, still rubbing his hand up and down his chest. "She was right knackered after the rough and tumble with you, Buffy. She's still regaining her strength from whatever happened to her before."

"Great, another Scoobie meeting. Guess we'll have to put off taking Dawn out-again," Buffy said dejectedly. She couldn't help but feel bad. For as much as Dawn was becoming the Big Unbearable, Buffy missed spending time with her sister. She had thought that calling it off with Spike would give her at least some time to spend with Dawn. It made sense in theory. But she had quickly found out that the more time she spent at home, the harder it became not to think about him. Talk about a quandary.

She was spared another internal diatribe by a door opening.

"That must be Dawn and Tara," Willow said and hurried out the room. Buffy went to follow but Spike blocked her passage with his arm.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her patience all but gone.

"Nothin, luv," he said, flashing his 'innocent' glare. He brought his free hand up against her face. Buffy recoiled at his touch but more out of necessity than disgust. He knew he had her. He had smelled her desire when he first entered the room.

"Stopwhatareyoutryingtodo?" She blabbered. She could not let him touch her. As much as she needed it to be over between them, she knew if he touched her in that certain way, the way that had let her know that he loved her, she would fall right off the wagon. Two weeks of exercising her willpower down the drain.

"Nothing that you don't already want me to do, luv," he said. Spike casually maneuvered Buffy against the doorframe and ran his hand slowly down the side of her body. She gasped and unconsciously squeezed her thighs together. It was getting hot.

"Stop that," she said, unconvincingly. Her body betrayed her demand and she ran her hands up his chest. He moaned with need as her nail scraped against his alabaster skin. She pulled one hand back while the other one found his lower back.

"You're making this harder than it already is," she moaned out, lost in the blue oceans that were his eyes. He laughed at that and it made her shiver with warmth inside. His laugh was full of life, a denial of his body's non-life. No matter how hopeless her life and their relationship seemed, his laughter was a note of hope in the silence of despair. She had been so transfixed by his laugh that she was unprepared for how his face changed and he looked into her. It screamed of desire, lust, need, and promises she was afraid to see. She was a slave to that look and she knew that all it would take would be one kiss and the little control she did have would be history.

"Ya know, luv," he whispered, getting closer, "you're the one making it harder." He saw the protest in her eyes and put his finger to her lips before she could speak. "I wasn't talkin' about that, luv," and he pushed himself against her, "I was talkin' about this." She gasped loudly this time as his erection rubbed against her melting core through the thin sweat pants. He bent his knees so she could feel him against her now pulsating womanhood.

I can't let this happen, she told herself. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop but her words betrayed her.

"God, Spike. I need you…now," ushered from her lips.

The mixed look of shock and delight on Spike's face as Buffy placed her other hand on his hip and pulled him to her until their bodies were crushed together. He moaned, closing his eyes, and one hand found its way up the back of her shirt.

"Your skin is so smooth," he whispered as his tongue danced across her ear. She shuddered in anticipation. Her grip tightened on his hips, nails digging into his skin even through jeans. She lifted her left leg up and expertly hooked it around the back of his knee. He lowered himself further to heighten her stimulation. Spike felt her limbs tense and could stand it no more. He removed his arm from under her shirt. He licked the side of her neck and she moaned with every stroke of his tongue. He could taste her heartbeat and wondered how she was still conscious; it was beating that fast. A smile crossed his lips as he realized that it was him that got her like that.

His thoughts were interrupted as Buffy bit down on the flesh around his nipple. Her tongue danced around it and she bit down again, almost enough to draw blood. Spike's hands spasmed against the doorframe, clutching at air. His blood surged through his veins and his manhood ached for a release. Her mouth wandered to his other nipple and as rough as she had been with the left, she was that gentle with the right. Her lips were feather light as they brushed over his skin and the tenderness of her tongue made him quiver within. She looked up at him and he saw more than her lust for his body in her green emeralds. She licked her lips and he could not think any longer without at least touching her swollen lips. He bent down and kissed her delicately, as if she would break if he did not control himself. It was a chaste kiss at first before their tongues intertwined in a familiar dance. When they kissed like this, the whole world ceased to exist. It was as if they had been exalted to a higher plane of consciousness. He was no longer un-dead. He was alive. Though his heart did not beat, the passion that surged within was an ample substitute.

He was so lost in the moment that he didn't feel her left hand loosen its grip on his hip and sneak across his thigh. He did feel, however, when she squeezed his throbbing member. It was enough to break the kiss.

Buffy giggled lightly at the look of pure want on his face. His erection threatened to bust through his jeans to get to her and she had to smile at that. This is all for me, if I want it, she thought to herself. All previous convictions of staying away from him were lost in her storm of emotions. She removed her right hand from his hip while her left one continued to massage his erection. She traced the lines of his face. The scar above his left eye. The sharpness of his cheekbones. He was everything she wanted. Everything she needed.

He loves me so much, she said, finally coming to the complete truth. It wasn't about lust or about 'doing a Slayer' or a sick obsession (at least not anymore) that drove him to her arms time after time. No, it was a love that she thought he was capable of. A love that she had resigned herself to not having. It was unconditional in every manner of being. No matter how much she denied him. No matter how she hurt him with her words or fists, he would always do for her. Other men would have pulled back, closed up. And she wouldn't have blamed them one bit. But Spike was different. He was always there, whether she wanted him to be or not. Either for the good or the bad, Spike never went halfway with his love.

"What's on your mind, luv?" he asked. He had been hesitant to speak at first. He knew that, despite his attempts at flattery, the best things didn't always come out of his mouth. And as much as his actions could heat the mood up, his words could just as well cool it.

Buffy broke eye contact and studied his chest. His skin was red where she had bitten him. Her hand dropped from his face and traced along the outline of her teeth marks. What was she thinking? I just want to feel…Is this really happening? She was torn between the truth and lying.

"You love me so much," she said, her voice husky. The truth won out.

Spike kissed her on her forehead before lifting her chin up. Her eyes glistened in the light and he knew it was only a matter of time before tears fell. He marveled at it. Here was the Slayer, the Chosen One. She had stopped countless Apocalypses, fought for her life every single night and had died twice. She was the toughest person he had ever met in his 120 plus years of un-life. And yet, she was just as fragile as she was strong. She could battle toe-to-toe with a hell god and yet be totally baffled by affairs of the heart. He couldn't blame her. She hadn't had the opportunity to grow into her feelings. A whirlwind romance at sixteen with a 240-year-old vampire who just happens to go O.J. when you sleep with him didn't help. She didn't doubt that she loved the poofter, but this was different. Spike had done things to her she had never known were possible. But it was more than that. He loved her with all his being. And that realization scared her to no end. Her streak of luck with men was a far cry from a confidence builder. She was probably telling herself that as long as it was physical, she could deal. If it went further, if he managed to slither his way inside her heart… He knew what she was thinking. She was so afraid of letting someone in. She could give him her body, even her mind, but not her heart. And he understood. If she did let him in, he would be in a place where he could hurt her more than Angel or Riley ever could. And she probably would never recover from it. The simplest way to deal was to curse him and look at herself in disgust for what she let him do. It was her defense for caring too much. Afraid as she was, though, it was wearing on her. Slowly the levels of denial were stripped away. She had taken a big step in admitting Spike's love for her. For so long she had cursed him as a monster incapable of love. But she had experienced that love on numerous occasions. Spike smiled inwardly. If she could admit that a monster like him could actually love, then could she also admit to herself that it was possible to love him back?

Spike stared into her eyes. They told him so much about her. More than she ever knew. He could tell when she was hurt, angry, aroused or excited by a peek into the green seas that were her eyes. He searched them now. The fear of being hurt again was evident. As was the need to be loved. But there was something else too. He had seen it during the Glory ordeal and a hint of it when he had come to kill her on the porch as she lamented about her mother. She was a little girl lost whose sanity hinged on one kind word or deed to make the pain or fear go away. He knew exactly what she was looking for.

Reassurance.

"I'm scared," she whimpered, "that you'll…leave."

Spike could have sworn that his undead heart lurched in his chest. He looked at her face, a retinue of sadness, fear, desire and…love? He wasn't sure about the last one but there was something in the way she looked at him that gave him hope…

"Buffy, remember the time I told you I was drowning in you?" She nodded. "That will never change. No matter how much you deny what you feel, no matter how much it hurts not to touch you when someone else is around, I'm not going anywhere. And you know why?" She shook her head. He smiled gently and kissed her on both cheeks before kissing her fully on the lips. A moan escaped her, as she was lost in the kiss. He regretfully pulled away.

"Because of that, luv. When I kiss you, despite what you've said, I know that you feel for me. Now it may not be love," he smirked, "yet, but it is something. And no matter how pissed I get at you and want to tell you to sod off, I don't. All I've ever wanted from you was a crumb. A morsel for my hopes to cling to. Every kiss you give me adds another crumb to my collection."

She smiled at that. "So you're like the king of crumbs now."

He chuckled softly before answering. "Well, pet, I am moving up in the world. I fancy one day I'll have enough crumbs for a whole cake," he paused. A mischievous grin etched his face. He kissed her again, fully on the lips and trailed kisses down her chin. He kissed the side of her neck, gently taking her skin between his teeth and she moaned in barely contained ecstasy. His tongue traced her collarbone. He planted butterfly kisses between her breasts that made her head swoon even through the fabric of her shirt. She wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on her bare flesh. He knelt in front of her and kissed her belly button.

"Of course," he finished, "until I have all those crumbs, I guess I'll have to make due keeping my mouth busy with other things." Buffy shuddered at his words. She knew what he meant and boy did he know how to do it!

He was in the process of pulling her pants down when a chuckle-cough made the lovers whip their heads toward the hallway.

"T…Tara," Buffy said in exasperation. She was mortified beyond belief. Not that Tara had caught them in the act since she already knew. But it was the fact that…well, that Tara caught them in the act.

The witch did her best to stifle a bout of giggles but she managed to get out what she wanted to say. "We…we told Dawn about the other you and all. Willow called Xander and…he said he'd be right over."

"What about Anya?" Buffy asked, frantically trying to compose herself. That task wasn't easy considering that Spike still knelt in front of her…unmentionables. To make matters worse, his right hand, deftly hidden from view, rubbed the side of her leg endlessly.

"She won't get out the Magic Box until at least nine. She said she could stop by then."

"Right. Fine. Dandy," Buffy agreed. She finally mustered the strength to walk away from Spike's magnetic touch. "Going down stairs," she said and traded a bashful smile with Tara.

"Well then," Spike said, standing, "guess we should be getting down there too, wouldn't you say, Tinker?"

Tara only smiled at him, her eyes amusedly fixated on his crotch.

"What?" he asked.

"Ummm…so..ahhh…how's that cramp?"

"Cramp? What cramp? Oh…the one from Buffy's birthday gig?" He waved a hand dismissively. "Sodding thing feels great."

"I see," she said smirking leading his eyes down to the bulge he had forgotten was there.

"Bloody hell!" he said and Tara swore that he saw him blush. Satiated with her Spike teasing for the day, she practically skipped down the steps.

Spike only looked at her, perplexed. He really liked Tara and all but something was not right about her. She knew something about him and it was driving him crazy not knowing. He shrugged it off as he thought of what had just transpired between him and Buffy. She had taken a tentative step from behind that impregnable wall she so expertly hid behind. It was only a matter of time before she gave herself to him with no pretense.

That'll be the day, he thought and ambled down the steps, elated.

***

Finally some Buffy/Spike! Ha. Chapter 8 will get more into the stranger that's after the slayer. Tell me what you think so far.