Author Notes: POV piece for Buffy. B/S hook-up. After Angel, but not making with the nookie (not with Angel, at least!). Season 2.

Praise be to Joss and his Whedonism. Rock on, Comrade! And eternal thanks to my James Marsters desktop wallpaper to whom I bid 'good morning gorgeous' every day before I write.

REFRACTED AFTERGLOW

by Kathryn Adkins

I knew what he was. I could sense it even before I saw it. And he knew what I was. I felt him as he watched me, ice trickling down my spine as he dragged his blue eyes down the length of it. Saturday. He said he'd kill me on Saturday.

I'm still here.

"Should be dead," I whispered.

"Hmmm... been there, done that. Don't think you'd like it much."

He rolled over and threw his arm across my bare stomach. I should have been scared. I should have run. Instead, I snuggled deeper into the pillows. What the Hell have I done? What the Hell was I doing? It gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 'sleeping with the enemy.' Sleeping. No, we hadn't done a whole lot of that. But we'd done things I'd never even read about in my mother's dirtiest novels. You know, the ones she'd hide between the mattress and boxspring in hopes of keeping them from teenage eyes. We'd done things I couldn't even spell if I'd tried. And then I opened my big mouth.

"I love you."

He tensed up for a second. And then he did the strangest thing. He pulled me very close, his arm still draped across my stomach kind of possessively. For a second, I thought he might bite me. I mean, jeez... Slayer here, you know. Not supposed to be confessing love to the undead.

He didn't bite me.

He was purring. Purring! Like Mr. Mancus, the Siamese cat we had when I was 3. It was soft and guttaral and it tickled my neck where he had buried his head. What did that mean?

"Did... did you hear what I said?" Why the Hell was I pursuing this?

"I did," he whispered. His breath was cool on my warm skin.

"Do... do you want to bite me now?"

He pulled back and looked at me like I had three heads. Okay, maybe not such a great analogy because in our business, well, the three-headed ilk were pretty common. He looked at me like I had three Buffy heads. Or something. I never was any good at analogies.

"What are you saying?"

I shrugged my shoulders. Bite. Me. Doesn't he want to bite me now? I mean, he said he was going to kill me on Saturday.

"You... you said that you were going to kill me. Today. Saturday."

He craned his neck and squinted a bit. Not that he needed to squint. Hello, vampire vision and all. But he was looking at the clock.

"Aw, bugger," he complained. "Well, I guess there's no point now. It's no longer Saturday."

He was teasing me. Teasing. ME.

He laid his head back down and stared at me, his nose just inches from mine. He looked like he was trying to get a line into my head. Good luck. I wouldn't even want to go there. And I'm me.

"Buffy," he said softly. Wow. My name sounds so sexy when he says it. I don't think I'd ever heard him say it before. I mean, even when he came, he yelled out SLAYER. I think it kind of got him off. You know. Him being a vampire. Me being the Slayer. Us collapsing in his crypt in a puddle of black satin and nakedness and tingling, engorged naughty parts. Not supposed to be mixy. Not at all.

"It's the thrall, isn't it?" I finally asked. It had to be the thrall.

I'd heard all about it from Giles. That crazy Drusilla bitch that Angelus hooked up with. She had the thrall. And she'd had him, too. So, if she could throw someone the old eye, why couldn't he?

He laughed. It wasn't loud. Or obnoxious. Or smug even.

"Is that what you think, Slayer? Think I've got you in the thrall?"

I knew he didn't. He knew that I knew he didn't. A girl could only hope, though. I mean, how the HELL am I going to explain this one? I could just see me telling Willow and Xander. Or Giles. Or, oh God. My mother.

Oh, me and Spike? Well, I was just minding my own business, dancing at the Bronze and then there he was! And he said something about killing me on Saturday. And, well, since I am the Chosen One, I couldn't just not show up. And, oh... the whole part where I staked myself on his dick? Total accident. No, really, Mom. I just, you know... was trying to introduce him to Mr. Pointy and the next thing I knew, he was introducing ME to Mr. um... well, you get the point, don't you?

Yep. That was a conversation I was really looking forward to having.

And there he was. Purring again. Making me want to stroke his head like he was a big, cold kitty. Damn him! What the Hell was it about him anyhow? He didn't have a soul. I mean. Yeah. Angel had a soul. But he still turned into Angelus. I never even had the chance to give myself to him. We talked about it. We started to. And then POW. He totally vamped. That was SO not supposed to happen. And then. THEN he tried to kill me. And my friends. Oh, yeah. And my mother. He ratted me out to her. Told her I was the Slayer. And that I threw myself at him begging for him to take my virginity. Men are such assholes. Doesn't matter if they're dead or alive.

Now, there I was. Laying next to a vampire. A purring vampire, mind you. But a vampire nonetheless. When had my brain shriveled up and died? If I was on drugs, that would have been a great excuse as to why I gave myself -- freely, too -- to Spike. Or if I had been drunk. But the whole dance... the whole game of cat and mouse. Well, I guess we know who's the cat. I pulled him to me. Tight. Tighter. Tight enough to bruise any human man.

"Is it a spell?" I asked him.

He laughed again. Maybe he should have been offended. I was trying to find all sorts of outs for myself. And still I held him so close that I should have cracked his ribs.

"No, Pet. It's not a spell."

Hmm. Not a spell. Okay. Good.

"Not the thrall?"

"No, Pet. Never learned to do that. Think there has to be a missing link for it to work."

Color me huh?!

"Uh, Dru. She's always been a bit 'round the twist. Think that's a prerequisite."

Oh. She's crazy. So I just fucked the vampire who spent the past 120 years with the psycho undead. Great.

"Would you..."

"In the blink of an eye."

I didn't finish.

"I didn't finish."

"I'd kill her for you. In the blink of an eye."

I guess I didn't need to finish. Not that I'd ever ask him to kill her. I mean, sick and twisted as it may be, if it weren't for Drusilla... we wouldn't be laying there in some refracted form of afterglow. No. I'd have to give her a pass the next time I saw her.

"You said you love me."

I did. Point?

"Why did you say that?"

I started twisting my hair around my finger. Tighter until only the tip of my finger peeked out bright white. Cutting off the circulation. Why did I say that?

"Because I feel. It. Something."

"Uh-huh."

That's all he's got to say? Starting to feel kind of stupid here.

"What happens now?"

Was that me? I barely recognized my own voice. It sounded so far away. So small and childish. He sighed and rested his head on mine.

"This shouldn't have happened."

That's so not what I wanted to hear. I knew that already. Voice of reason here, you know. But I didn't want to hear it outloud, left to ring over and over in my ears. Great. Now I'm fucking crying. Way to go, Slayer.

"Oh, sweetheart. That's not what I meant," he told me. He was leaning above me now, on his elbow. He leaned down and kissed me so softly it felt like a whisper against my lips.

"I love you too, Buffy."

That just made me cry even harder. He loves me. Now what do we do? Find stupid reasons to run into each other so that nobody gets suspicious? Sneak quickies behind headstones? Oh, I know. I'll just take him right on home to mom and get started on the wedding plans. Yeah. That will go over big.

"Keep thinking like that and you're liable to spontaneously combust."

I tried to shake away all of my fears. I'm here. Now. With him. With Spike. A vampire. No, wait. MY vampire. Mine. And nothing else matters.