Title: Everytime We Touch: Chapter Four.

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Set in season six, Spike and Buffy find themselves in the Bronze once again. Spike wants to have 'his' Slayer relax after a strenuous night. I know, not the most original, but I needed some Spiffy(Spuffy as my bestfriend, who this is for, dubbed it.) action to write. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything here. Save for the storyline. All characters and the like are trademark properties of Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy and it's affiliates. Lyrics are copyrighted to their respected owners and blah, blah, blah. Please don't sue. I'm just a poor girl. Really, I am.

Pairings: Spike/Buffy.

A/N: I know. I know. I slacked. But with so much bullshit from work going on here, I haven't had time to work on fanfiction. That shall change starting now. :) I shall be updating all of my fanfiction that needs to be updated. Thank you once again to the reviews I've had on previous chapters. Reading them made me really have the urge to get back into writing.

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Three nights had gone by and she had yet to think of a solution. Everytime she thought on a certain end of the line one, she always wound up sick to her stomach in a way she only ever felt when she thought of her mother being gone. A heart and gut wrenching pain that was set apart from any other. Even as she stood at the counter of the Double Meat Palace, working the night shift of the drive-thru, Buffy's mind stayed focused on what she she would be in nine months. Or according to the calculations Willow and Tara gave, seven or six months. Such a short time away it seemed. Whereas had she thought of seven months, well, seven months ago, it would seem like a lifetime away.

"Buffy?" Came a voice off to her left. No response from the Slayer who looked zoned. "Buffy?" A little louder this time. Then, "BUFFY!" That time her attention was caught as she whirled around to be face to face with the pimple faced assistant manager who was barely out of hghschool.

"Hmm?" She asked cluelessly, still snapping from her train of thought.

"You have a customer at the drive-thru. Mind taking their order?" The manager raised a finger, pointed to the register and then stormed off to deal with another slacking employee.

Giving out a deeply exasperated sigh, the blonde pressed the talk button, "Welcome to the Double Meat Palace, would you like to hear today's special on double stacked burgers and extra cheese fries?" Nonchalantly she breathed into the microphone.

"Not really." Came a familiar British accent, "I'd rather hear the special reason why I've been ignored." Spike whispered into the speaker.

"Sorry, that's not on the menu. Try a psychiatrist." The connection went dead after Buffy forced the little red button down and in doing so, managed to get the damned thing stuck. While fiddling with the now broken button, the sound of a bike revving up could clearly be heard to anyone not busy with the late night customers causing a small issue in the dine-in section. Giving a push off from leaning against the register, Buffy stalked over to the drive-thru window with an uncapped cup of soda in her hand that she snagged on the way, "This is for people who, you know, are people and who eat things that are already dead. Not for vampires who eat living people." Buffy barked while glaring dangerously at the coy biker vamp who was running his hands along the sides of his gear handles.

"Last time I ate a girl, I had no complaints." Was the sly remark Spike quipped back with. One that earned him a reddening blush from the usually fierce Slayer debating whether or not to pour the soda on him just yet. "Still no complaints." He added flicking his tongue slowly over his lips.

Gritting her teeth and counting mentally to ten, Buffy clutched the plastic cup too hard that suddenly the contents of it spilled all along the side of her pants and shirt. "Ugh!" Was all she could muster out. Her back now facing the sheepishly looking and mischeiviously plotting vampire. "Just go away. When people are ignored it's for a reason. To be ignored!" She spat, whirling back to him and tossing the crumpled plastic cup at his helmetless head.

Not a moment after it made contact, was there a voice calling from behind her. "Buffy! What in the world do you think you are doing to the customer?" The annoying ass...istant manager was right there and had seen it all.

"He's not a custo---" The irritated blonde was going to finish up with Spike being nothing of that sort, when Spike piped up with an interruption.

"Oh, I'd beg to differ. But honestly mate, s'not a big deal." He told the boy, "I'm quite alright. I would just like an apology from this young woman here."

Oh, no! If he thought he was getting one, he was dead, no pun intended, wrong!

"Buffy, apologize to the customer." Came the order and not usually one to follow such, the blonde realized if she wanted to keep a roof over her head and one over Dawn's and her baby's, she'd have to resort to the lowest of lows as she was going to have to demonstrate now.

And so, with her head down, her hands entwined together, the once proud Slayer apologized dryly, "I'm sorry." Then in a whisper too low for mortal ears to catch, added, "That you're a jerk and I wish you would eat a burger I made and could choke to death on it." Lifting her head, she smiled softly over at Spike, who returned the end bit with a low growl.

"I think you should take the rest of the night off Buffy. Come back in the afternoon tomorrow." The assistant manager turned to Spike and offered him a free meal, but it was turned down.

Gathering her stuff from the backroom, and next to selling her soul, wished for Spike to not be there when she exited the front doors.

Yet, there he was. In all his glory, a smile that would melt any other girls heart plastered on his rugged face. "You really hate me, huh?" The small Slayer asked with her face skyward.

"Nah, I think he likes y'alot. Afterall, if he didn't, then why would I be here?" He chimed in, rolling his bike in follow along the side of the curb to the pissed off other.

"Do more and more brain cells die nightly that you just cannot grasp I do not want to talk to you?" Buffy stopped midstep, whirled to him and found herself pressed chest to chest with Spike.

"Something's got your panties in a bunch n'it ain't me this time." He ran a hand down the side of her face, pushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "G'na tell me what it is, pet?" He was giving her room to open up and not lash out. Room that had Buffy faultering in her 'I-Hate-You' attitude directed his way.

Easing up some, visablly and otherwise, Buffy took in a deep breath, "Maybe. Not right now. I had a long night. Could you just drive me home?" For some reason, the mile walk seemed too much for the Slayer at the moment.

Nodding, Spike led the smaller blonde over to the bike, helped her up, and joined her. Something in the vampire told him to take it slow. Despite that on the back of his bike was a woman who was as tough as the pavement under them.

With her arms wound around Spike's waist, cheek pressed to the middle of his back, the two took off in silence for Revello drive. In Buffy's mind, well, that silence wasn't present. Maybe that's why she let him drive her home? Too many thoughts elsewhere would have her going in circles. Amidst the wind slapping at their ears, Buffy mumbled a sincere, "Thank you." For the ride.

-TBC (Will Buffy tell him tonight, and how will she? Read to find out. :))