Notes:

Alrighty then – here it is – I have an excuse, I started a new one that took me on a roll!! I'll post that one pretty soon! Tis short, I know – but, bear with me – more coming!! Anyway – THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED!! I may not be able to say it personally to all of ya – but YOU.ARE.FAB. Do you comprende? YOU. ARE. BLOODY. BRILLIANT.

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erm, im just looking for the piece of paper where I wrote my comments…..

erm….i *may* have lost it……

SORRYYYYYYYY – daym, I feel shit now.

Next time – ill do it properly! I think when I cleaned up my desk #finally#, it may have gone the way of my 4 month old apple core…

No implied link there, btw!!!

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Stuff between these lines:

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are song/poem lyrics, disclaimed as 'Gabrielle – Rise'.

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-------------------FLASHBACK-------------------

"YES!! Classes are O.V.E.R!!!!!!"

"Pet, it's only the weekend."

"AND? Classes are OVER!"

Spike rolled his eyes as Buffy hugged herself with joy. Her body was wallowing in a huge sweatshirt and loose khakis making her appear much smaller and vulnerable than she really was. Spike grinned at her; she was the image of perfection in his mind, from her scruffy ponytail to her worn sneakers.

"What are you planning on doing then ducks? Going out for a daaaattttteeeeeeeeeee are you?"

Buffy grimaced. "No, thank goodness. He wouldn't bloody leave me alone. And I SO wouldn't let you miss your ritual whoopin' of ASS."

Ignoring the opening for a fight, Spike frowned slightly and, hesitantly spoke,

"I think you should head back into the world of girliness and dating a little more. Could make you feel nice." There was a tinge of jealousy in his voice, after all - If Buffy started dating it wouldn't be 'Spike and Buffy' anymore and however much Buffy needed to get that last bit of life into her, Spike felt a bittersweet ache when he pushed her towards it.

Buffy tensed and her smile dropped slightly. "Spike…I'm not read-"

"Whatever you say, pet. But it's been two years now Buffy. We've done so well – you don't need to hide anymore."

Spike shrugged and the conversation was over…again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey Bella." Buffy waved as she made her way to the court.

"Oh no. I forgot, its five o'clock." Bella groaned and dragged herself behind Buffy.

"Nope, It's 4:57PM." Buffy chirped, starting to jog slightly.

"Buffy, you and Spike can give it a rest for ONE night."

"Nope, this is my Slayer training."

They managed to make it to the court where Spike was standing with a basketball in his hand.

"Slayer."

"Cripple."

"Oooh. Harsh, pet."

"You're right, you need a soft landing. I'll be beating you pretty hard."

"Now, pet, no need to be testy."

"There's nothing TESTING about it. You loose everyday. I don't know why I bother playing."

"I win everyday pet, remember that."

"Lets just play bleachy."

"Fine, she-man."

"I resent that."

"And?"

Bella grinned as they primped themselves for the hour of hard one-on-one that was to follow.

And the game was off. They played around at first, not really playing, still very much in the teasing mode. Through some silent synchrony, they both focussed and the real playing began. Buffy had the ball, Spike bouncing on the heel of his feet in front of her – and off they went, Spike made a lunge for the ball and in triumph turned his back on Buffy – his arms ready to take over the ball. What he hadn't realised was that Buffy had managed to keep the ball and had taken his egotistical behaviour as an excuse to 'leg it' to the goal and shoot – to score.

She was easily the better player, but every now and again Spike would make his presence known with an amazing steal or shot. They took a short break and were back on the court, sweating and high on adrenaline.

Buffy smirked at her 'arch-enemy' and they were off again. They were quick, so in tune with each other that it looked like a choreographed sequence, an erratic dance of movements and gestures.

Finally it came to the final tied situation. There was one point to be played to determine the winner. Both of them loved when it came to this, as it often did. Truth be told, more often than not - it was Buffy that won – but the tension was no less thrilling each time.

"Well Slayer, I hate to do this to you pet, but – it's just so bloody easy for me."

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Play the game so I can go home and get a work out."

"As you wish, babe."

Spike's face was practically screwed up with concentration; Buffy was lightly swaying herself from foot to foot as they started the game for the final point.

The chip-less vampire started forward, an eye on Buffy – who took her chance, in his slow, easy-to-follow movements to dart and steal the ball and rocket to the side, away from him. Their roles were reversed and she made her way to the basket – Spike's defence was weak and she bounced up and raised her hands to shoot, when his foot darted out and grabbed her at the ankle. She fell – Spike caught her in his left arm, and with his right: grabbed the ball and shot a final, fatal goal that sealed another rare victory.

"CHEATER!!!!" Buffy ripped herself from his arms and stood, angry, her hands on her hips.

"What, Slayer?"

"IF YOU CAN'T PLAY THE GAME, DON'T CHEAT!!!!"

"I do not cheat, pet."

"CHEATER!"

"Don't call me a cheater!"

"CHHEEEAAATTTEEERRRRRR"

"DON'T CALL ME A CHEATER!!!"

"CHEATER!"

"I'M NOT A CHEATER!!!"

"CHEATER!!!!"

"SLAAAAYYYERRRR!!!!"

"SSSSPPPIIIKKKKKEEEEEEE!!!!"

They launched at each other, landing some punches and kicks that had little effect.

"I'm tired."

"Me too."

And with that, they stormed off in opposite directions. It was all over the campus again – Spike and Buffy had had another argument. No one worried, they were usually resolved within the hour, if not sooner. The fact was endearing and an argument could be expected at least twice a week. Doors were slammed, tongues were protruded and ice cream was consumed. A normal day for Buffy and Spike.

-------------Flash back-------------

Much time has passed between us

Do you still think of me at all

My world of broken promises

Now you won't catch me when I fall

Sometimes, BACK in the days of

Non-genetically modified

Bird FEED, people used to

Die of a disease in which

There is a lack of FEEDBACK.