Chapter 9
Buffy stood at the kitchen counter with her younger sister, Dawn, making Christmas cookies. As Dawn fanned her oven mitt over the cooling pastries, Buffy held a pastry tube over them and created little colorful, Christmas-looking, squiggle-drawings on them. Dawn blinked after Buffy finished one of the cookies, leaning in closer to take a look at the image created.
"A dog?" she asked in confusion, looking to Buffy for clarification.
Buffy sighed and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind one ear as she continued trying to squeeze out a Christmas tree on the next cookie. "It's a reindeer."
"Looks like a dog, to me," Dawn commented.
Frowning, her older sister turned to her. "Say one more thing and I'll show you a whole new way to eat that cookie."
Wide-eyed, Dawn backpedaled and headed for the fridge for something to drink. "Touch-y," she said in singsong. "What's crawled up your ass and died?"
Putting down the pastry tube momentarily to brush the same strand of hair out of her face, Buffy shook her head and sighed. "His name was Scott Hope, if you must know."
"And he died while crawling up your ass?" After receiving a Death Glare from her sister, Dawn held her hands up in surrender. "Sorry. Please continue. I love hearing about your dates that go wrong."
Staring at her for a moment, Buffy finally said, "He has a dirt collection."
"A what?" Dawn sat on the stool at the breakfast nook with an incredulous look on her face.
"You heard me. He takes these old-style coke bottles, empty of course, and fills them with dirt every time something 'important' happens."
"Such as?"
Waving her hands in the air for emphasis, getting some of the icing on the ceiling in the process, Buffy shook her head. "Like… When Clinton was elected, for instance. The first time, I mean. When O.J. got off for his wife's murder. Stuff like that."
"He was at these events?"
"No," Buffy sighed. "He would go out to his backyard and scoop some of his own dirt into the bottle every time these things happened. Then he'd label them and put them on a shelf in his bedroom."
Dawn nodded. "Okay. Getting the wiggins just hearing about the man. Don't explain the date, for my sake?" She stuck her hand into an open bag of chips that was lying on the counter, munching on one before saying, "I don't understand why you don't just get involved with your friend Spike. I mean, he's totally hot."
"Dawn, shush. We're just friends."
"But if you could be more…?" Dawn persisted.
"No," Buffy insisted firmly. "He's just…"
"He's what? A friend with a cute ass?"
"Dawn!" Buffy gasped, scandalized that her "baby" sister could think that way. "No, he's… a mess."
Dawn looked over to where Buffy was intent on decorating a cookie with "Spike" on it. A green and red heart encircled the name. Raising an amused eyebrow at her, Dawn remarked, "So why are you making a cookie for him?"
Buffy paused, staring at her handiwork before shrugging in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. "He's a nice mess."
The Christmas holidays passed by in a blur, with only minor encounters with Spike. Buffy was fine with that, she wasn't in the mood for company. It would only further her feeling that she was truly alone during the holidays. However, Spike had somehow managed to talk her into going to a New Year's Eve party at some ritzy Las Vegas Strip hotel with her. Now, she danced to some old-style tune in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Some far corner of her brain insisted that it wasn't half bad being pressed against him like this, as he dipped her in time to the song, but she tamped the annoying voice down. Friend. Spike-shaped friend. Nothing more.
"I want to thank you for taking me out tonight, Spike," she said, breathlessly, as he brought her back up. She was all-too-aware that their faces were mere inches from each other's.
Obviously, he noticed this too, as his Adam's apple bobbed with the hard swallow he forced himself to take. Smiling in a casual manner, he winked at her, continuing their dance by moving his hips slightly against hers. "Think nothing of it, luv. And next year, if neither one of us gets lucky, you've got a date then, too."
Buffy laughed as she said into his ear, "Deal."
They danced for a moment, staring into each other's eyes, each lost in their own thoughts. Buffy's thoughts were a swirl of confusion, and she could see from the stormy blue his eyes had changed to that his were as well. Her breath was coming in shorter gasps, which had nothing to do with the mild exertion of their dancing. His face was suddenly all too close to hers, and she found herself not moving away. Her traitorous lips parting slightly in anticipation further shocked her.
Then, suddenly, he pulled back, as if remembering himself. The moment was officially halted. Looking at her for an instant, he said softly into her ear, "Do you want to go outside and get some air?"
Buffy swallowed hard, nodding awkwardly. "If you do."
He offered her his arm and she took it with a dramatic flourish. Their laughter offset the nervousness they both had been feeling. As they crossed to the patio, he took a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lit it. They stood in silence as she watched him smoke. He watched her watching him.
Buffy finally sighed and looked him straight in the eyes. "Do you think the fact that we're friends is what's keeping us from finding other people?"
Spike almost choked on his smoke, laughing softly after he finished coughing. "Yes, pet. I do," he said solemnly. "I think we should stop being friends, go home right this minute and shag each other bleedin' silly."
He watched in surprise, as she appeared to seriously consider this. Finally, after a pause, she shook her head. "No, you don't mean that," she said, more to herself, as if in reassurance. "You know you don't."
He was about to protest that he did, in fact, mean it, at least in part, when the crowd inside began to count down.
10 – 9 – 8 – 7 – 6 - …
Buffy looked at Spike with an expression that was akin to a deer caught in the headlights. She knew New Year's tradition as well as he did. Butterflies flew around frantically in her stomach.
5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1…
Spike licked his lips nervously, eyes focused on Buffy doing the same. Tentatively, he took a step closer to her, marveling as she did the same. He watched as she quickly worried her lower lip between her teeth in anticipation, and was about to open his mouth to reassure her that she didn't have to kiss when…
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
…All thought was pushed out of his mind as she reached out and pulled his face to hers, crushing his mouth with a kiss. He froze for a moment in shock, then wound his arms around her lithe figure, returning the kiss with ardor. Their lips played over each other's, teeth venturing small nibbles here and there at the lower lips. When she opened her mouth slightly to allow him further access, he hesitated. It was brief, his pause, allowing him only enough time to catch his breath before crushing her body against his as he invaded her waiting mouth with his tongue. They gasped and moaned against each other as hands began their inevitable search of each other's body. Tongues battled for dominance as their heads tilted to allow each other deeper access in the kiss. As passions stoked, so did their breaths run out all too soon. Pulling back, Spike gasped softly for breath, trying desperately to control the now-difficult strain his erection caused within his pants. Resting his forehead against hers, he stroked her bare shoulders with the backs of his fingers.
She stared into his eyes, likewise panting for breath, wondering what the hell they had both done. Oh, but gods, it was good… Aloud, she said in a soft, husky voice, "Happy New Year, Spike."
Closing his eyes briefly before staring back into hers, he allowed the corner of his mouth to quirk upwards in a smile. "Happy New Year, Buffy."
Neither spoke what was on their minds.
Neither said to the other the question that plagued them, that they both wanted to answer, but would never admit to.
What happens now?
