Chapter 13

It felt fine to dress up in a shirt and tie occasionally; better still to know that in a few minutes he'd be joined by a pretty young woman whose company he savored.

To take her to a nice restaurant. ("Good dance floor, good wine list. Here's the address." "You're a peach, Kay.")

In a decent car. ("You can't drive that piece of shit. Take my Camry." "Owe you one, India.")

To gaze into a pair of warm brown eyes and-

"OHMYGOD! You look GORGEOUS!"

Thu crashed a heavy bag of weapons onto the floor and beamed in admiration.

"Thanks, Squirrel. Seen Fred comin' out yet?" He glanced anxiously out Singh's parlor window with the uncomfy thought What if she decides to back out? whispering to him like a nasty little disease.

"Here I am. I'm so sorry, the blowdryer conked out and I was waiting for Paloma to get here so I could borrow hers, and I thought about just drying it in the car like I used to do when I was late for work - you just roll up all the windows and turn the heat and fan on 'High' and aim all the vents at your head, but then I realized that in this weather we'd both be sweating like pigs by the time we got there..."

She wound down like an alarm clock. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"Don't mention it." He distantly heard his own voice, but nothing really registered except how incredibly lovely she was. She had put on a gauzy, sleeveless little summer dress with a pale floral print that lay on her like gossamer and gave her the look of a delicate pastoral nymph. The opal sparkled like a tiny bonfire below her throat. Spike wondered helplessly how he was going to conceal the screaming hard-on saluting her from the front of his pants.

"Oh! Before you guys go! Lemme take your picture!" Thu rolled over the back of the couch and dug a Polaroid camera from one of the kitchen cupboards, giving Spike time to whip around in the opposite direction and reach the shadowed safety of the wall directly behind Winifred.

"Okay, be still," Thu instructed. The Polaroid clicked and whirred, and spat out a print. "It's a Russell Stover moment," she added happily, surveying the resulting image. She turned the camera upside down, examining it from various angles. "I thought vampires didn't make reflections in mirrors. Don't cameras have little mirrors inside them?"

"Yeah, we got reflections, they just can't be seen by human eyes. But they can by camera guts. Camera's not alive, it's a machine; sees everything. That bit of film there's what the camera saw a few minutes ago." To Fred he added in a whisper, "Let's go before she starts quizzing you about digitals."

They fled into the night.

"I'm trying very hard not to drink too much this time," she announced into her wine glass later that evening. It was going to be awfully difficult: their table was small and intimate with candlelight, and the man seated across from her was mouth-watering.

"I told you, you're cute when you're tipsy."

"No I'm not; I blither like an idiot. So does my mama." She fingered the glass stem worriedly. "I wonder if Michael's ever going to be able to get word to them that I'm okay?"

"He will. He's just trying to come up with a way that doesn't spook the shit out of them and doesn't tell them where we are. Whoever's running the show in L.A. now may have their own little mind-readers tuned into your mum 'n dad's wavelengths, doin' a bit of psychic wiretapping."

Impulsively he chucked her under the chin. "Cheer up, Love. Angel and Charlie'll be here tomorrow, and we'll all make a nice fresh new set of plans. So get just as boozy as you like."

"You REALLY don't want to see that."

Kay had been right: the club section of the restaurant did have a nice dance floor. He led Fred by the hand onto the edge of it, slid an arm across the small of her back, laced her fingers through his and held them against his chest. The music was recorded rather than live, but on a good sound system and with a decent choice of artists: Dido, R.E.M., Edie Brickell & The New Bohemians. Slow, seductive tunes. She found herself staring up into his face, mesmerized by the sharp blue of his eyes, her hand unconsciously kneading his bicep. Miles below, the lower half of her body quietly informed her of a rock-hard erection. As another song began he moved her arms up to encircle his neck and wrapped both of his own around her waist, drawing her tightly against him. Then his hips began to sway slowly in time with the music, sensual and serpentine, carrying hers with them.

The straw that broke the camel's back was a soft little kiss on her earlobe.

She responded with a whimper and nuzzled his neck. She felt him quiver, and suddenly he was maneuvering her into a shadowed, secluded corner, pressing her back against the wall with the length of his body as he caught her face in his hand and brought his mouth down on hers with a raw, intense hunger. His free hand roamed feverishly down her hip and flank and slid underneath her skirt, pushing the filmy material up as he groped her bare thigh. He gripped the underside of it and lifted, wrapping her leg around his own and pinning it there as he continued to kiss her fiercely.

Sweeter than I ever imagined, mouth's like honey, want to put her innocent little mouth all over me, want to be hers...make her happy...make US happy...

With a herculean effort he finally pulled his mouth away from her and released her leg, bracing his hand against the wall instead. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, panting, his breath hot on her face.

"'M sorry, Pet," he gasped. "I swore I wasn't gonna...oh, hell." He'd fucked it up again. Forced himself on a girl, and this time there hadn't been a history of confusing "no means yes" signals to help explain it. He turned his head away from hers, miserable now. "I'll take you home."

"Good."

And then, incredibly, lips pressed into his palm.

To his astonishment, she wasn't angry. What he saw in her face were all the things he'd hoped to see in the women he fell for: acceptance, approval, serenity, desire.

A chance.

For the third time in his life, he perched upon the precipice.

And leaped off.

"I'm in love with you."

For the first time in his life, the landing didn't hurt.

"I love you, too."

Home.

Naked.

The almost-dark was bearable now; a solitary lamp illuminating their bodies as they slid and stroked and arched and trembled, touching secret places and crying out in ecstasy.

Sleep, when it came, was deep and peaceful. Toward dawn Spike awoke, resting on his side in the middle of the bed. He opened his eyes to see a vast empty space between himself and the edge of the mattress, and the old, familiar, hollow feel of isolation and hopelessness settled onto him: she was gone, just as Buffy had always been gone when he woke up, even in the final days when she had stopped despising him and sought him out for strength as much as comfort. Lingering, he'd learned, might have implied commitment, and that wouldn't have done at all.

Then something warm stirred against his bare back. He turned…

And she was there after all, Winifred, pushing herself upright from where she'd been lying on her belly, her long brown hair tangled and tumbling over her shoulders, eyes heavy-lidded with sleep. She blinked for a moment in confusion, then her gaze fell on him and she gave him a languid, loving smile. Her voice came out in a whisper.

"Good morning."

Through a torrent of silent emotion he reached out and pulled her on top of him.

"What are all these little scars?"

She lay with her cheek resting on his stomach, fingertips slowly dragging back and forth from his navel to the inside of his thigh. Around her hand, barely visible except at this close range, dozens of faint lines slightly paler than the rest of his skin crisscrossed his chest and abdomen.

The reply was quiet and pained. "When the soul came back, it burned. I thought live coals were inside me. I know now it was from guilt or being off my nut, but it felt real, 'n it hurt like hell, an' it wouldn't stop…so I took a knife and tried to cut it out of me."

"Oh, my god," she breathed, looking up at his face in horror. She scooted up the bed and put an arm around his chest and hugged him tightly.

"I wish I'd been there to help. Not help you cut yourself, I mean; just…help."

He wished it, too. He drew her head up in his hands; studied her.

"You really do love me?" There was an almost childlike wonder in his voice.

She stroked his cheek. "I really do."

She lowered her mouth to his and kissed him, softly, and he came undone. With a low growl he rolled them both over but as he entered her she winced in pain.

"Oh, shit!" he gasped, mortified. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, I'm just…I've never done it so much in one night before." She gave an embarrassed little smile. "I'm kind of sore."

He pulled out immediately. "God, Sweetheart, I'm sorry - can I get you something for it?" He wasn't sure what he could get. Somehow he didn't think an icebag would cut it.

"It's all right; we can do it some other way," she assured him, trying to sound cheerful. She held up her hand brightly and began walking her fingers over his dick. "Itsy-Bitsy-Spider-climbed-up-the-waterspout…"

"Lamb, I'm serious." He caught her hand and held it carefully, as though it was suddenly made of thin glass crystal. "You've got to ALWAYS tell me when I get too rough."

"I will."

She contemplated the hand, small and mortal.

"William…if you decide that you've bitten off more than you want to chew here, I'll understand."

"How's that again?"

She raised her face to his. "I'm not like any of your other girlfriends - I'm not a slayer, or a vampire. I won't be able to keep up with you the way they did, in bed or patrolling. I can't back you up in a fight the way they could, either. I can do lots of things well, but those won't be among them. And I'll grow old one day."

"Hell, Fred, I don't care about any of that!" he burst out, almost laughing. "And growing old isn't a problem; there's plenty of spells'll take care of that. They've got 'em temporary and permanent, in all speeds. Just gotta find the right witch."

"No. I won't use an eternal youth spell. They're dangerous, and they demand all kinds of sacrifices. The price for them is too high."

He released her hand to trace the smooth contours of her face.

"I meant an aging spell. For me."

It took a moment for the enormity of his proposal to sink in. "You'd grow old with me?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes. Hadn't thought about it before, but…yes. Whatever it takes. Not gonna leave you behind."