A. N. Right. Pardon the Spuffiness--wait. No, scratch that. Spuffiness is always good. But no worries, it doesn't last. It finishes quite nicely. Not the story. The chapter. :op Let's not forget that Buffy is still stuck on the side of the highway near Pasadena!

A. N. 2. All the reviewers: You guys rock! Honestly, I dedicate all of this to you all!

"This… It feels different."

There's something in his voice that makes me cringe. The uncertainty laced in with his rich, smoky, suave voice is sending me a warning sign. Okay, I do realize I went overboard with the adjectives, but I was at a loss. It feels different. What the hell does that mean?

"Good different, or bad different?" I barely recognize my own voice. It's sketchy. Probably 'cause my breathing is laboured. And that's probably due to the fact that his fingers are roaming somewhere down south.

He grins and leans his forehead against mine. And that's when I feel it too. It does feel different. Like something is missing. I'd give my last dollar to know exactly what that is, but unfortunately I've got more than a few bucks left.

Spike sighs and rests his eyes into mine for a few seconds before sitting himself up against the headboard. There's a ray of sunlight that escaped the curtained windows and it lands right on his chest. Yet he just sits there, giving his eyes a rest for a few seconds. It takes me a few moments to realize exactly what he's doing. He's absorbing it. He's absorbing the heat.

He slowly opens his eyes and leaves them level with the wall in front of us.

"I can't stay here, Buffy."

I shift myself to my side, and rest my head on a pillow.

"Why not?"

Finally his head turns, but unfortunately, he turns it the wrong way. He just stares out of the window; stares at the sun shining.

"I..." He whips his head around and lands his bright blue eyes into mine. "I've got so much to learn, Buffy! I can't just be expected to jump back into the human pool after over a century of…" He stops himself, as if he's looking for the right word to say, but can't quite put his finger on it.

I can feel my nose scrunch up involuntarily. He looks so different. Like a little boy the morning before his first day of school, ready to learn, eager to become something more.

"I can't stay here, Buffy."

"Yes you can. We can do this together. I'll be with you every step of the way."

But I don't say that. Somehow… It wouldn't be the right thing to say. Instead, I just nod. "Okay."

Spike tilts his head like only he can, and considers my answer. I can tell he's disappointed: It's not what he wanted to hear. His face turns sombre for only a second before he breaks out into a mischievous smirk.

"You're in love with her." He whispers. It's broken and soft. "God. How could I have been so blind?"

"What?"

He smiles again, and leans his head back against the wall.

"You have Harris's number around?"

And the award for the most dramatic change of subject goes to…

"Yeah. Somewhere. Why?"

Spike shrugs and gets up. He slips into a pair of faded denims and turns to face me. His eyes roam my body, and I suddenly feel a lot more naked than I really am. I don't know why, but I try to cover myself the best I can with the flannel sheet.

"I want to learn."

The porch I'm sitting on needs some work. Not a lot, mind you, but still, it'd be nice to walk comfortably without the fear of falling through looming in your mind. The previous owners had wanted to fix it up, but never got around to do it. They bought all the lumber and everything, and when Faith and I bought the house, it was under agreement that they leave the pile of two by fours so that we could have a try.

But as for now, I'm sitting on a step, thinking about Spike's words. You're in love with her. And I'm thinking so hard that it's bringing tears to my eyes. Confused is the word I would use to describe myself right about now.

My thinking comes to an end though when I feel Faith coming home from work. I can hear her put some things in the fridge before she opens the screen door behind me. I can hear bottles clink together and soft safe footsteps on the rotten wooden boards.

"Where's Blondie?" She asks my backside.

"Not here." I manage between sobs.

"He coming back?"

"No." It's broken and pathetic.

"You crying?"

"No." I whimper. "God, I'm such a bad liar."

I can just picture her smirk in amusement. The distinct sound of bottles being put aside make it's way to my ears and before I have a chance to do anything, Faith sits behind me, wrapping her warms around my waist and caging my legs with her own. I can feel her chin rest itself on my shoulder, as she leans her head against mine in a comforting gesture. Then she scoots a little more into me, until I feel her belt buckle nest itself in the small of my back, the cold metal in the warm night sending shivers up my spine.

God, if she only knew that I wasn't crying about Spike's departure.

"You wanna beer? It'll help with the confusion."

Okay, well maybe she doesn't need to look me in the eyes to read my mind. Confusion? Faith… If only you knew…

Her breath smells of cinnamon, and it lingers in the air, meddling itself with her distinct scent of dark chocolate, leather and omnipresent hint of smoke. She has no idea what that scent does to me.

Suddenly, I'm on autopilot, 'cause in a temporary fit of insanity, I loosen myself from her grasp and turn around so that my face is mere inches away from hers.
She only has the time to murmur my name before I doom myself forever.

"Buffy." It sounds so perfect when it trips off her lips.

And before she can do anything, my lips hover over hers for a moment before they make contact. It takes a second before she reciprocates, and I can feel her lips start to move against mine. They're soft and full with want. Instinctively, my tongue brushes her lower lip and begs entrance. Her lips part open as a silent invitation, and I quickly gain access. Her mouth is warm and inviting and suddenly I'm filled with an unwanted sense of fear.

What happens when we pull apart? What'll happen to that friendship we've been building so carefully for the past three years? She doesn't leave me anymore time to wonder as she breaks away, resurfacing for a breath of fresh air.

Her eyes closed tightly, her arms still around my waist, her thumb making a circular motion on my lower back, and she rests her forehead against mine. Her eyes are still closed. I know all of this 'cause, well, obviously, my eyes are wide open with shock of what I just initiated.

"Patrol with me tonight?" She says, catching her breath, her voice huskier than I've ever heard it. I can't help but notice the need in her tone, and it makes my eyes water again.

I can only nod, rest my arms around her neck and sigh in contemplation of what's to come.