A/N: I apologize for the shortness! There's really nothing to this chapter other than underlying Spuffy and Woz. So, enjoy the fluff-n-stuff, because it is a prelude to the big moment, coming next chapter!!!!! Fwahh!

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Buffy looked Spike up and down, taking in his appearance. He was standing with his head cocked, examining his handy work. His normally slicked hair was tousled a bit and there were some curls in it. The long sleeves of his shirt were pushed up to his elbows, andhe had a wrench in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. His black combat boots were splattered with paint and plaster. Shit… Buffy thought. Why does he have to be so damn attractive? Suddenly it occurred vaguely to her that Spike was calling her name, restoring her senses.

"…Buffy? Buff-y?" Spike was watching at her expectantly, looking slightly amused. "You know, I wanted your opinion on the bathroom, not my ass, but I'll take either one," he said slyly, catching her staring. She turned crimson.

"Oh, no, I wasn't- I was just- um…" Buffy stammered. She took a quick look around the bathroom. Sure, he had done an excellent job. Far better than Xander: the Glorified Brick Layer could have done. The wall was patched seamlessly, the mirror had been replaced, and he had done quite a nice job installing that new toilet. However, all his construction in the bathroom seemed to pale in comparison to the builder himself. And judging by the smirk on his face, Spike could tell what she was thinking. "Wow… it looks… great!"

"What, my ass or the bathroom?"

"Both," Buffy blurted, catching herself just a little too late. "I mean- uh- the bathroom!" Spike chuckled at how flustered he had made her. He grinned and laid his tools down on the counter, walking over to her. She swallowed hard, trying to resist from turning any redder. He went right up to her. Close. A little too close. He put his face right next to hers, and when he spoke she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips.

"I'll be going, then," Spike said softly, his voice sounding warm and thick. He couldn't help but grin at how wide Buffy's eyes had gotten. He turned and grabbed a blanket from the hallway, trotted down the stairs, threw the blanket over his head, and ran outside. He slammed the door, leaving Buffy staring after him.

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Willow and Oz were looking fruitlessly through volumes of magical texts, oblivious to the fact that Spike had already left the house and the whole "researching in shifts" thing really wasn't necessary. Willow pushed aside a copy of Demons of Light and Dark and sighed. Oz looked up from Magic of the Seasons at her.

"Nothing?" he asked as Willow got up and walked across the room to the book shelf.

"Not a thing. And being around all these spell books is making me kinda tense," Willow commented. "Wanna take a break?"

Oz nodded and closed his book, following Willow into the kitchen for snacks.

"You know what? I don't think the kitchen is the best place for us to be together," Oz said, and he and Willow sniggered. Willow picked out some promising strawberries and a can of whipped cream from the refrigerator. They sat down at Giles' sofa. Oz took the top off of the whipped cream and squirted a huge dollop directly into his mouth. Willow looked at him funny.

"Eew…" she cringed. "That seems… unsanitary."

"Are you kidding me?" Oz said after swallowing. "You haven't lived until you've eaten whipped cream out of the can."

"I don't think so," Willow declined.

"Oh come on," he coaxed, holding out the can. She finally took it from him.

"Darn peer pressure," Willow joked. "It's a good thing you don't do drugs." Willow tilted her head back and squirted the fluffy white substance into her open mouth. "Mmm! This is so good!" she squealed. She squirted more into her mouth while Oz laughed.

"Told you," he stated. She swallowed and gave him a very poor attempt at a glare before they both burst into laughter. Oz noticed a bit of whipped cream on her cheek, and he reached over to wipe it off. Savoring the moment, he remembered how much he had always loved the feel of her soft skin under his rough, guitar-worn hands. He looked at her and their eyes locked. The emotion behind her expression was impossible to read. Suddenly Oz realized that his fingers were lingering much longer than necessary on her face. He quickly withdrew his hand, looking casually around the room. Spotting Giles' guitar and seeing it as quick and easy way to end the awkward silence, he rose and picked it up. He removed it gingerly from its case, sat back down on the sofa, and began strumming it softly. He didn't notice that Willow was still staring at him, transfixed.

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