"…Can I dance with you?"

It was the music.

And the dancing, definitely the dancing. It had spun her head around so much that up was down, right was wrong, and Spike was… was anyone but Spike.

It wasn't real, that was the key thing. It wasn't a spell, but it still wasn't real, it couldn't possibly be real, and she was holding onto that thought with bloody nails rather than admit to the butterflies rioting in her belly. Rather than reconcile with the fact she'd kissed him first this time because it felt far too much like giving in. Breaking the rules, at least for as long as his arm was around her waist, his fingers wrapped around hers, both tasting their mutual hatred melt into something else as the song changed.

The kiss ended as he pulled her upright, their dance continuing, but something important had fractured even as she regained momentum. Confidence faltered as doubt crept back in, hyper-aware of every movement, every note warbling from the stereo, every tension of Spike's fingers at her back as she followed his lead, her brain scrabbling to commit it all to memory for some reason and the first line sung almost tripped her.

"Ah, she takes just like a woman…"

Buffy swallowed.

I don't have to take, she tried to persuade herself as she took a strained breath in. Just because it's there and it's easy doesn't mean it's right. Or… good. It's still Spike! And it's still… me.

"And then she makes love just like a woman…"

Those words hurt and she couldn't figure out why—or rather she could if she wasn't actively shying away from the shard of glass glinting under those words, ready to cut her open if she put a foot wrong—but the feeling was easily ignored with how close their bodies were. With how tightly he was holding her hand (there was no gentility in that grip, just as there was nothing gentle in what she wanted at that moment, and that thought alone was terrifying), and how earnestly Spike was looking at her.

God, he really could look at her. Cold as he was, there was always heat in his gaze and she'd thought that heat had been 'hate' but now it looked like something had flipped the switch on that bloodlust-o-vision in his eyes and he was staring at her like he wanted to sink his teeth into her in an entirely different way.

"And then she aches just like a woman..."

Her heart thudded as Spike's nose brushed against hers, the song bringing her attention down to a cavernous feeling of unfulfillment that once it had been noticed refused to be ignored. She knew what it meant to ache…

"Does he make you burn?"

Spike's question from the night before tightened her throat. Did Riley make her burn? The way Spike's hand linked with hers was making her burn? The same way her fist landing a blow across his jaw had done before that particular outlet had been denied them?

She dragged herself back from those questions that made her lungs feel too small to breathe.

Obviously not. That's a way different type of burn. That's an angry burn… it's not the same.

His hand on her back flattened into a daring caress and she held her breath.

Isn't it?

His arm circled her waist tighter, her breasts crushed to his chest until she was sure he could feel her pulse beating through his skin.

Pull back, she pleaded as her heart thundered. This is… this is really not a good idea…

His lips grazed hers, and her eyes dipped closed.

"But she breaks just like a little girl."

And her resolve disintegrated. She kissed him again. And again. And again and harder as his hand dropped from hers to cup her shoulder, dropping onto the back of her neck to drag her in, the words muting themselves in the air as his tongue slipped into her mouth, twining with hers, his feet walking her backward.

Her back hit the bookcase she'd had him pinned to the day before, and something dislodged inside it this time from the force of his body against hers, his hand pressed to the glass next to her head. The song wound on but she was deaf to it.

"God what I'd do to you," Spike whispered, only audible over the music because of the proximity. "If we weren't supposed to be killing each other."

Buffy's eyes closed as his mouth latched onto her neck, swallowing tightly as his hips pressed into hers.

"If we weren't supposed to be killing each other," she repeated, tilting her head as his tongue caught the hoops in her ears. "What would you do?"

She hadn't meant it as encouragement but he seemed to take it as such anyway, righting her, sitting her on the ledge of the bookcase's cabinet so he could press against her fully, a lecherous grin across his mouth even as his eyes dipped half-closed as though in reverence.

"Dance with you," he answered, and the roll of his hips insinuated he didn't mean ballroom. He groaned against her skin as she wrapped her legs around him. It was an automatic reflex, just to stop herself from slipping further down the bookcase, but his hands were suddenly digging into her thighs, winding them tighter until her ankles crossed at his back. "That's all I want to do."

Buffy shivered. Held tighter just as he did. Kissing back harder and harder until she could feel her lips bruise from the onslaught, and as he pinched her lower lip between his teeth, testing the swell, she moaned.

Her ears burned to hear it, the hungry growl he echoed it with lighting a fire in her bloodstream and dappling her cheeks a dusky pink.

Somewhere there should have been revulsion. She knew that. She wasn't so far gone from herself that she'd lost sight of that. There should absolutely be horror too, at the fact that it was Spike grinding between her legs and potentially causing permanent damage to Giles' antique bookcase.

And guilt, definitely guilt, all with guilt, because this was not what good girlfriends did even if her intentions had originally been so noble, so innocent. Even as she'd strode back in a third night in a row, she hadn't really believed they'd end up here again. Flukes were all fluke-ish, lightning never struck the same place twice. Though apparently, stupidity never knew when to stop striking.

…But the way he kissed didn't feel like a betrayal, it felt like sparring. It felt like winning every time he bucked against her and she earned a groan against her mouth, every time he gripped her just a bit tighter. It felt right, the way good versus evil felt right. Natural; two halves of a whole.

Two partners in a dance.

"This doesn't mean anything," she argued breathlessly, more with herself than anyone else, trying to summon the guilt that was supposed to be there, but he growled into their next kiss, biting as hard as his electronic leash would allow.

"It means everything, Slayer. It means everything."

xXx

"...Can I dance with you?"

Spike groaned, holding tight as the warmth of Buffy's skin sank into every muscle, her lips pressing insistently into his.

She'd kissed him first this time. She'd kissed him first, and the world had fallen away. Not just the world outside, but inside too. Nothing but the feel of her mouth against his, nothing but the tapping of her beating heart filling his mouth. His whole body.

Filling it the way Dru had drained it. It was like his heart was beating again, and he could practically taste the salt of it. Of wanting more, and fuck but he'd never had that before. The spotlight had never been on him; he was always the attentive light shining on another, but Buffy was kissing him and he could barely think through it.

It was like a hunger.

Kissing her was so close to biting her, drinking her in and in and in, and yet never reaching that full-body slackness of her corpse sinking in his arms, death closing in around the blood loss. Rather than getting weaker, dwindling, stuttering out, her heartbeat was pounding, getting faster.

He pulled her out of their dip, breaking their kiss as the music changed.

"Ah, she takes just like a woman."

And didn't she just. Didn't she just take every blow, every knockdown, like she was built for it? Like nothing could mark that beautiful skin of hers. He'd seen it first hand, how much she could take, how she could spin it around into strength, and he didn't doubt that the more carnal meaning of those words would be just the same.

"You couldn't take me on, even if you tried."

His tongue darted out to run across his lower lip, tasting the traces of her there.

God, but I wouldn't mind trying…

"And then she makes love just like a woman…"

He felt her tense in his hold, her breath fanning his cheek hotter now, and it was as though the words were spell-binding, like their hold on each other was a promise, and it was starting to make him dizzy. The warmth of her in his arms was thawing something in him and letting go was becoming impossible.

She seemed just as dazed, staring at his mouth as she panted, and as he flattened his hand at her back, bringing their bodies flush against one another, he felt the anticipatory shiver dance up her spine.

"And then she aches just like a woman…"

Christ, he bet she did. He just bet she did.

There was no way that tension—that permanent girder over her shoulders, that grit in her jawline—spoke of any kind of release. Of any kind of fulfillment. She ached, and he could all but taste it.

They were so close now it was nothing to dip his head to hers, breathe her in.

Give me a chance, luv…

Give me a chance.

Kiss me again.

"But she breaks just like a little girl."

It was still a shock when she did. The newness of her lips against his was still sharp like a knife, but he'd cut himself open on it just to taste her more.

He dragged her deeper, practically clawing at her, feeling her gasp into his mouth as he pushed her back and back until she was up against the bookcase, her legs linking around his hips.

There were words, but he was hardly aware of them, whispering sweet somethings to her as he got his mouth on her neck the way he'd always wanted to, the burning heat between her thighs setting a blaze in his gut.

Want you, bloody hell, how I want you!

And she wanted him back, that was unmistakable, clearly enunciated with every scorching kiss and panted gasp, as her hands curled into his hair.

"This doesn't mean anything," Buffy rasped, and the tremor in her words gave it away for the lie it was.

He'd forgive her for it though, since he was just as headspun.

It means everything, Slayer… It means everything.

He bit her, teeth pinching in a kiss so fierce it would've hurt. Should've hurt, but apparently the chip didn't account for her pleasure balancing out the scales as she moaned into his mouth and no voltage in his frontal lobe accompanied it.

She bit him back, her teeth digging into his lip as she clawed his arms, and then she was off the bookcase and wrapped around him completely.

Spike staggered and turned, and only just managed to hold out a steadying hand as they crashed down to the carpet, taking the brunt of the fall along his forearm as Buffy clung to him. She arched her back instinctively as he peeled her t-shirt up her stomach, refusing to relinquish her kiss until the fabric was bunching at her collarbone. She ducked her head as he took it off, surging back up to him with her hands dragging him back in. Not that he needed dragging.

Tastes just like a woman too, he groaned inwardly, raising his arms as she pulled his shirt off him in kind.

"Christ, you're hot," he breathed as his bare skin slid across hers. She was; her body under his like a fever burning him up. Two slayers he'd had his hands on before her but this didn't compare. The bloodlust had been snuffed out and now it was just all out lust.

His hand was at the bow of her spine, fingers poised to flick open the catch of her bra when she froze, as the living room phone trilled next to Giles' armchair. She lay gasping underneath him, and after several rings, the phone clicked to the machine.

"Hey Buffy," said the slightly staticky voice of what Spike assumed was the Slayer's newest toy. "I couldn't get an answer at your dorms or your mom's—," Buffy scrambled, shoving Spike to the side and he cackled, catching her ankle and pulling her back out of reach of the phone, over her in a flash, his fingers reaching for the receiver, "so thought I'd make a last-ditch attempt here—" She punched him in the gut and spun him underneath straddling his chest with her hand pinning him down to the floor by his shoulder as she picked the phone out of its cradle and hit the answer button.

"Riley!" she gasped, breathless, and Spike leered up at her. "Here, I'm here, I'm—" she paused, swallowing as Riley's tinny voice chirped out of the headset. "No, nothing like that," she answered. "Just caught me mid… workout." She glared as he raised an eyebrow, savoring the blush it caused, a pretty pink flush dappling her cheeks. "No, everything's fine," she said again, and then her eyebrow creased slightly. "Of course I'm being careful…"

Spike frowned. The muscles in Buffy's neck were tensing, the blush in her cheeks no longer from arousal.

"I mean it was barely an apocalypse, and I super handled it— fine, we… no, I… uh huh…"

Spike squirmed. Buffy's hand only pinned him harder. But her eyes wouldn't meet his. Her hackles were dropping again, but only just barely, a smile being forced at gunpoint onto her mouth, bright and cheerful and saccharine, and Spike loathed it.

"Yeah, no problem…" she said at last after a lengthy bout of one-sided conversation. "I know… I miss you too. Bye."

Spike gritted his teeth. Well, wasn't that heartfelt?

They stared at each other for what seemed like an age before Buffy raised herself off him. She reached for her t-shirt, and slipped it over her head, untucking her hair in a flourish.

"Thanks for the dance lessons," she said, not meeting his eyes, and was out the door before he could say anything back.

Spike blinked as the door shut, letting out a stunned huff as he dragged his hands down his face, the song finishing its last verse.

"...Now I, I guess I just can't fit,
And I believe it's time for us to quit,
And when we meet again, introduced as friends,
Please don't let on that you knew me when,
I was hungry, and it was your world!"

"Ah, you fake just like a woman…"

He snorted.

"Ain't that the truth."

"You make love just like a woman,
And then you ache just like a woman,
But you break just like a little girl."