**PART TWO**
CHAPTER SEVEN
She caught a flash of the metallic silver object out of the corner of her eye and her senses fixed upon it, turning over in bed so that she didn't have to twist her neck.
"I hope you're not planning on smoking in here."
He shook his head, a wavering expression flitting across his features as he clicked the lighter open igniting a flare of light that masked his bone structure with an amber glow.
Her expression hardened with concentration, a faint nag of concern straightening her back as she wrapped the sheet round herself and sat up. She stared at the hand that hovered only just within minimum-safe-distance of the shivering flame. "What are you -?"
Another shake of his head silenced her once more and her attention returned to the fire, ready to intercede should the element's nature remember Spike's nature. Silence danced within the flickering blue heart of the flame and she was transfixed.
After an eternity or two had been consumed and burnt out by the fire, the lighter snapped to extinguishing the flare and jolting her back into awareness. She glanced up to eyes that that still held the flame's blue heat and was once more captivated. So absorbed that she didn't register his first touch until his hand moved up past her knee. Looking down with furrowed brows, it was a moment before she realised what was different.
"Warm?" His hand had retained the fire's heat. (Not -) Meeting his eyes again she shook her head. "I warm you."
An acknowledging smile crossed his lips as he leant in to kiss her. "That you do."
She gasped as his naturally cool hand met her body the instant his lips brushed hers.
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"Ugh!"
"Bad day?" Buffy followed Dawn into the kitchen and spoke to her sister's back, watching as she headed straight for the fridge to load up on and sugar.
Dawn shrugged, cradling her selection snacks up to the island and off-loading them into a heap for further contemplation. "Was okay. If it was bad you'd really know about it."
"Just so long as you're okay."
Dawn glanced up from her perusal. "How can I not be when I have all these munchies?"
Buffy smiled, coming forward to examine the food (if you can call it that). "Think I went overboard with the shopping?"
"No, not overboard. -- More like you drowned in the keeping-greedy-teenagers-happy aisle."
(Happy?)
Buffy glanced up from the ingredients listing she was reading and mirrored Dawn's grin. "This is just a big pile of E numbers isn't it?"
"Uh-huh... and your point is?"
"I have no point." Buffy shrugged. "I am point-less."
"Well you said it." Spike drawled, ignoring Buffy's glare and converging on the pile. "Hmm. Peanut butter."
"Hey! I want that."
"Tough."
Dawn's lip jutted out in a full-blown pout as she lunged for the jar only for Spike to take a step back. "You're evil."
Spike nodded with a strangely familiar glint in his eyes. "Yep." He forced the airtight lid with ease and dipped a finger in for an ample helping of the gooey substance. "There you go."
"Eww... I don't want it now your freaky undead fingers have been in it."
"He'll get you some more, Dawn." She turned and fixed her eyes on a gaping Spike, cutting off any attempt of argument. "Won't you, Spike?"
He produced another of Dawn's patented grunts and set to licking the peanut butter off his finger. Buffy turned away as a flush of heat rose up her neck and burned her cheeks.
"Good."
"Good." Dawn repeated for emphasis. Crossing her arms and smugness in full flow, she glared at Spike.
He paused and blinked, finally recovering his smirk as he swallowed his mouthful. "Still evil."
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A bitter breeze nipped at her face as she stepped out on to the step slamming the door behind her. (So much for spring.) She wrapped the flaps of her coat closer around herself and exhaled her frustrations into the wind. Hearing the door open and close behind her, she smiled.
"You okay?" She heard him ask.
She nodded. "Am now."
"It's just—he's only..."
Feeling the by now familiar twist of instinct turn in her as he stepped up behind her, she leant against him. "I know... Xander was just being Xander." She forced a smile and looked back at him. "But I don't want to think about him -"
"Understandable."
"Hey!" She turned in his arms and curled her hands round the lapels of his duster, smiling at the feel of the soft leather under her touch. "He's my friend... he may be an ass sometimes, but he's still my friend. Okay?"
He held her stare, one side of his mouth lifting. "Okay, there will be no bad-mouthing of the baby-sitting ass."
Buffy rolled her eyes, catching a subtle change in his expression she questioned him: "What?"
Averting her stare, he shrugged. "You think... Dawn --?"
"Will be okay... Glory can't come near with the - are you worring about my sister's safety there?"
"What? No, I --"
"Good -- 'cos that's my job."
She relaxed her fingers until her grasp of leather fell away to handfuls of intangible air. An impulse flitted across her mind's eye in a pulsing strobe of light and she clutched at him again, gripping his leather in tight fists as she tugged him into a kiss.
"I like this coat." She breathed as they parted, her palms smoothing it out along his shoulders. "Where'd you get it from?"
An abrupt choke of a laugh caused her to look up at him again. He shook his head. "...Off the last Slayer I killed."
His gaze didn't avert, he was gauging her reaction. She nodded, releasing the instant tension from her muscles and the breath that plugged her lungs with a slow, controlled exhale. "Oh."
"Yeah... 'oh'."
Silence danced at their feet, mocking her from its short perspective. She flicked it away with a shake of her foot as she turned to head down the steps. "Come on, we'd better be going." She kept her stride short until he appeared beside her.
"Where you taking me anyhow?"
She smiled as she looked at him, picking up speed and noting the ease with which he kept up with her. "You'll see."
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"What is this place?"
Buffy watched him turn about the spot, taking in the new environment. "My training room."
He nodded, his lower lip jutting out in appraisal. "I'm impressed."
"Giles was saying I need to get back to training. It's been a while -- ever since..." she trailed off, not needing to say any more.
"Yeah." He reached out and smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before completing one more circuit, taking in the weapons on the wall and the dummy Xander made. "It's nice and all, but what the hell am I doing here?"
She shrugged, letting her arms loll at her sides as she ambled an arc around him. "I kinda thought we could..." looking at him, she grinned at his skewed stance and raised eyebrow, "train."
"Train?"
"Yeah, you know, get with the..." she punched the air in front of her and opened her hands out to carry the gesture over to him.
"You want me to fight you?" His hands were in his pockets as he rocked back in his boots, a quiver of a grin betraying his attempt at incredulity.
"Well, duh! Give the boy a gold star. - You did promise."
His brow furrowed and his gaze turned to the ceiling in confusion. "When?"
"When I was drunk, that first night... You said you'd 'humour' me."
He laughed, his tongue pushing one concave cheek out. "I'm pretty sure there was a 'maybe' in there somewhere."
"Maybe, schmaybe." She cringed but transformed it quickly into a smirk, continuing her meander around him until he had to crane his neck to see her. "You gonna disappoint me? You gone all... soft on me?"
His face clouded at her words and the memory they incited. (It's working.)
"Did I tell you lately just how unbelievably annoying you are?"
She rolled her shoulders as she began bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I am kinda unbelievable aren't I?"
"One of a kind."
A sensation rippled through her body, following the path of his eyes as he looked her up and down and she looked away to hide her smile. "Shame the same can't be said for you."
He flinched, his eyes jerking back up to hers and darkening as they took in her expression. "What?"
"You heard me." She sighed and examined her nails half-heartedly (so in need of a manicure). "There's nothing that makes you different from Vampires I slay every night of week. You've just got some delusions of grandeur 'cos you got lucky with a couple of Slayers -"
"More than a couple."
She ignored him, didn't look at him as she continued. "You're nothing special. The only reason I let you live as long as I did was because I. Felt. Sorry. For you."
His eyes flared as he glared at her, his arms crossing and his gaze narrowing into a keen squint.
(Gotchya.)
"That what you really think... that all this is? Just pity?"
She stopped walking and aligned her body with his, mirroring his stance. "That's entirely what this is.-- But hey - it's mutual, right?"
The flash of hurt that sprinted across his features pulled at her gut, but she ignored it, straightening her back. When she lifted her head the slate of his features had been cleared and chalked with anger.
"I don't believe you." His voice was a shadowy whisper of his usual tone and she had to strain to hear him.
"No?" She smirked at him, opening her arms out into a wide shrug. "Then do something about it... show me what makes you different - Come on Spike. Humour me."
Her vision red-blacked with the impact, a surge of hot pain flaring the whole left side of her face. (Deja vu.) She touched at her cheek, checking for blood as she righted herself back into balance. A laugh fluttered out of her throat as she settled into fighting stance and looked up to see his startled features.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak she dealt the retaliating blow to his jaw. She smirked as his head snapped back with the force and righted to reveal his game face.
"That's more like it."
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"Getting tired, Slayer?" He purred as he advanced on her, blood dripping from his re-broken nose and a cut above his eye.
"Not likely. I can keep going all night."
His jaw pushed forward as his tongue pushed against his lower teeth. (Another smirk - maybe I should start cataloging them.)
"Oh, I know that, Slayer."
She wiped the smug grin with another punch. "Shut up."
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Somewhere along the line it disintegrated. Somewhere along the line they'd started throwing punches and kicks with the intention to miss. Every now and then he would catch her fist and their fingers and eyes would instinctively interlock until they pushed away from each other with appalled moans of protest. Every now and again floorings and subsequent straddled attempts for dominance had only led to much rolling, grunting and pathetic struggles that were less about harm and more about contact.
The problem was that they had crossed the line.
She went down with a sigh that resounded into a groan from the impacts of the matted floor and his weight crashing down onto her. Hands that should have fought him off clutched at him as he lunged for her neck. She gasped and braced herself, feeling a familiar pressure against her thigh she smiled and twisted her head to extend her neck -
They froze.
Cringing as she felt his biceps contract under her grasp, she reluctantly turned to face the head that was lifting with excruciatingly slow progress to reveal questioning yellow eyes. Silence more than made up for its earlier dismissal, proudly pantomiming despite the lack of audience participation.
(Behind you.)
A nervous burst of laughter emerged from her constricted throat, the sound ricocheting around the few centimetres of space separating them, but nothing was released. The air pressurised, the atmosphere condensed, and she struggled for air as they exchanged the same breaths.
She stared up at him, her eyes flickering across his face to take in the harsh lines of his game face, the feral yellow eyes, the dried blood and the orthodontist's nightmare. He should have repulsed her, but when their eyes met again and he leant in, she found herself responding, opening her mouth so that she could taste the blood on his lips and trace the jagged edges of his deathly acute teeth. She'd been here before, but in a way she hadn't; she knew what was coming, but in way it was alarmingly new. Her pulse accelerated in anticipation and she nodded.
She wanted it.
A sigh of anticipation escaped her as his lips began their descent along her jaw line and down her neck. He paused at her scars and with a mumbled grumble switched to other, untainted side of her neck. He licked the sheen of sweat from her skin, drawing his tongue along the throbbing vein. She gasped as his teeth scraped against the site and he simultaneously ground himself into her groin. Her pulse was racing and her blood rising to the surface, heating her body with an illuminating glow.
She felt his hand on her arm, smoothing down the muscles and descending to take the pulse at her wrist before taking her hand. A twist of digits and palms and their fingers were twined, he squeezed her hand lightly and she responded with a final assent as his teeth punctured her skin.
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Fragments of songs whistled through her mind. The tone frail and rasping like fragile shale crushing to dust underfoot. Remnants of childhood rhymes whispered to her, echoing a time when she was all naive innocence and her mother's embrace was warm and soothing.
His embrace was warm, his body heated with her blood. She relaxed against the solid weight of his chest, his hands on her bare shoulders and his legs jutting out on either side of her. He was speaking to her, the deep hum of his voice surrounding her, but she wasn't listening. She sighed and sank further against him, letting the lilt of his words wash over her and the vibrations in his chest percolate through her body and lull her into a contented snooze.
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"You okay?"
She grinned at him but it paled into a grimace, she made a few not-word noises and in exacerbation pointed at her neck. "How'm I gonna explain this to Xander?"
His response was a smile, his lips barely moving but his forehead lifting and his eyes shining in the moonlight. "You don't"
"But -"
He silenced her with a kiss and she didn't resist, her body melted against his.
"I have turtlenecks."
"If it bothers you that much - here." He shrugged out of his duster and wrapped it around her, pulling the lapels of her coat up to cover her neck. "Better?"
(Warm)
She smiled. "Better."
TBC (Three chapters left)