Internal

We love,
Rubbing the nakedness with gloved hands,
Inverting our mouths in tongued kisses,
Kisses that neither touch nor
care to touch if
LOVE IS INTERNAL.
The Detached' by Maya Angelou

Twilight was just turning into night by the time that Buffy looked up from the palms of her hands. Her muscles ached from being in the same position for so long, and her hair flopped in front of her face in such an annoying way that she had to restrain herself from ripping it out. How was it possible to cry for so long? Don't the tears ever run out? Shouldn't she be a dehydrated mass right now? Hmm... Speaking of lack of fluids.

She glanced over at the stationary form of Spike, still leaning against the opposite wall of the crypt and smoking what was probably his twentieth cigarette. She glared at him for a long while before he realised she was watching him. Even then he just rolled his tongue back behind his teeth in a smirk.

What are you still doing here?

He shrugged and blew out a mouthful of smoke. He really did have the whole James Dean thing going. Except for that she'd seen that movie and JD was no way rebellious enough to be the walking-undead. Buffy placed her palms on the floor and gently pushed herself up to her feet. She rubbed her dry eyes warily for a moment, glad that she hadn't got around to the make-up stage that morning. Her gaze returned to Spike and she had a slightly stupid, but raw-from-crying-so-I-don't-give-a-damn idea.

The Slayer's eyes raked her surroundings before settling back on Spike, she walked over to him, hips swaying with seduction. Spike backed up against the back wall of the crypt and stared at her. Sure she was a little sexy, but also deadly, manipulative and angry. He wasn't going to forget the events of the past hours.

She rested a hand on his chest and looked up at him with hooded eyes. He took a long hard drag on his cigarette and looked back at her, ready for whatever blow she was about to inflict. He winced when her hand came up to his face, but it was only to pull the cigarette out of his mouth and stomp it into the floor.

What do you want, Slayer?

His voice broke a little in the middle, relinquishing that idea of being the Big Bad. He was so screwed. Her fingers played with a button on his shirt.

Spike...Help me?

The last words were said in a rush and Spike snorted. Yeah, help her. He knew she wasn't just being all Lady-Of-The-Night with him just because he was so hot. Heh. He wondered vaguely how long it would take for their illicit affair to end and for one of them to be dead. He should just kill her now. But still...

Help you Slayer? Not bloodly likely. Smacking me around wasn't the biggest incentive to invoke some compassion for your precious self.

She drew away from him with a soft thump to his chest. Welcome back Slayer. But he could almost swear that she was pouting. Spike you stupid git, kill her already. All that powerful Slayer blood pumping around her veins, warm and sticky.

W-What do you want help with Slayer? Homework?

Killing Angelus.

Buffy backed off a few more steps and snorted. Whatever had possessed her to be all slutty the moment before was gone and she just had that kinda dirty feeling in her stomach. Like something had crept inside her and died. Goody. She should have just said that bit first, but she'd thought... Uh, like she'd been thinking at all.

Spike's eyebrows shot up and he exhaled the mouthful of smoke that he'd been holding back. Killing that wanker was the kind of thing he could really go for right now, but he didn't think that the Slayer could be that serious. After all, they had the forever-type love. Like he and Dru had had. He still maintained that, even after recent events. Forever.

You want my help killing your boyfriend?

HOW MANY TIMES--My boyfriend is dead! I want to kill the demon wearing his body, why does everyone find that so hard to believe?!

Perhaps because your boyfriend has always been dead, luv. A change in attitude doesn't necessarily make him a different demon.

Oh, what do you know? It was rhetorical anyway.

Spike shrugged, and stopped offering her his opinion.

I hate you. Buffy reminded him with a glare.

Then why do you want my help?

Buffy took her turn to shrug and that revolting smirk curled Spike's lips again.

Because I'm all you have... Right?

Yeah, Spike, I just can't live without you. Buffy rolled her eyes skyward with a snort.

You could die with me.

Spike stalked forward and pressed a hand against her shoulder, it was meant to be threatening but the small blonde didn't move one inch or break eye contact with him. After a second she grimaced and shook his hand off.

So are you going to help or not?

What's in it for me?

A free pass out of town without being staked.

So appetising, Slayer, but I could get that for free right now.

Buffy ignored the overconfidence and continued diligently with offers more exciting to a demon.

Violence, mayhem...

Shilly-shallying and chicanery? Great offers to a bloke like me... Any job perks?

Perks. You know... Extra's. I enjoyed the last one..

You're a pig, Spike.

Thank you, George Orwell. How do you want to kill him then? Sun, holy water or general stake through the heart? You know he's insane right?

Buffy worked her way through his response slowly. That meant he was going to help right? She wasn't going to tell him her plan only to find out that he was being capricious.

Well, when I said kill--

I meant, that I wanted to kill him soon, but not now... Need to know his, er, weaknesses and, stuff.

No wonder your mates don't believe you.

He killed someone-- A friend, and he will die, I just don't want it to go wrong.

That's when some of the best stuff happens. Unexpected stuff. Variation, spice, life...

I didn't come to you for a debate, Spike.

Oh, yeah, you came here to beat me up and then ask for my help...

Buffy said uncertainly.

No? Then maybe this is what you came for.

Spike grabbed the Slayer's chin and held her face still and he pressed his lips down onto hers. It was an emotionless kiss that mirrored the one that Angelus had given her days before. Violent and over in a second.

Feeling unloved are you Slayer?

Buffy wiped her mouth and almost considered spitting on the ground, if it hadn't been a little-too unladylike for her.

I swear to God, that if you ever do anything like that--

His lips descended on hers again, cool and demanding. She responded, looping her arms over his shoulders and pulling him down. His hands linked at the small of her back as their tongues battled rhythmically. His teeth nibbled at her lower lip, and her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. The break from the kiss was mutual, both of them choosing the same moment to let go and move apart. Buffy looked mortified, and Spike angry.

Please, just... Stop that. She said, her voice breaking. Spike snorted, full of macho-demon pride and lacking the bone in his head that was supposed to tell him to shut up.

As if I'd ever do it again, Slayer.

And stop saying my name at the end of every sentence, who else could you be talking to, Spike?

She was hurt and she didn't hide it well. Nice for him trying to pretend that the kiss wasn't. Uh. Good. She was a good kisser. As if he had a right to berate that now. God, its just Spike, why do you care? She didn't.

Are you going to help or not?

Play the spy in Angelus's den... I'm game. He slid off the human mask to reveal his demon face, But I'd better not find a stake with my name on it in your panty draw.

If I thought you could get into my... that draw then you would already have that stake through your unbeating heart.

Fine? Fine. Right, then... Report to me later. Buffy turned and begun to hurry out.

Later when? Where?

Uh... Tomorrow... Here... Midnight.

Spike cocked an eyebrow and said in a deliberately provocative tone,

Its a date.

Buffy made a noise of disgust before disappearing out of the crypt. She heard the Vampire laughing behind her and all she felt like doing was crying. Again. When the night-air hit her face she remembered about Jenny, and everything else, and suddenly was not in the hunting mood that night.

Spike's chuckles quickly dissolved and he was left watching the exit and wondering why about so many questions. He felt like a stupid human with all the thoughts that were drifting around in his head, and he didn't even have the big one. Death. All that he wanted to know was why she kept touching him. And that he couldn't answer himself.

(Author's Note: I have nothing much to say (mainly because its 1am) other than to thank those who have reviewed, and especially those who continue to review. You help to, uh, pressure me into those few more lines that lead to chapters. Cheers)