Disclaimer: Oh how I wish Spike was mine... But he's not. :P And boo for me, I don't own anything else except the stuff in my bedroom. And a tape of James Marsters on Craig Kilborn from January 22, 2003 ;D

Shaking his head, Spike leaned back against the stairs, scrutinizing the group before him. He'd been here for almost half-an-hour already, and the Watcher was still pacing around, going from book to book, mumbling to himself about the stone in Dru's vision. So, in a fit of utter and complete boredom, he'd taken to giving his first-time assessment of these... kids.

The boy that the Slayer was sitting next to... Oz? Yeah, Oz. Bright green hair. Actually, he looked pretty cool; it was good to know that Spike wasn't the only man on earth comfortable enough with his masculinity to wear nail polish, although to be honest, he preferred his basic black to neon green. The boy caught his gaze and gave a nod in his direction. Spike nodded back. Okay. Nice, simple, easy-going type of guy. Yeah, Spike could definitely like him. Oz shifted slightly, and as he moved, a whiff of his scent moved towards Spike. He sniffed slightly, catching the off-center musk, almost like the smell of a... werewolf? The boy was a werewolf? Wow, he hadn't come across one of them since 1926, in Germany.

The Slayer sure associated with the strangest people.

The red-head, Willow... Oh, she looked like a tasty little morsel... Definitely yummy. Ooh, and bonus -- scared to death of him. A regular person may have only been able to see fear in her expression. Spike, however, could see (upon further inspection of her quivering lower lip and fear-filled blue-green eyes) that, despite the fact that everyone but her boyfriend and the Slayer saw her as a meek, docile little girl, she was actually... the strongest of them all. When it all came down to it, she was the bravest, in second place only to Buffy. She was curious and wary, but brave and intelligent. A brave, smart little girl, even if she didn't always show it, was always a lethal combination. He decided to himself that if it ever came down to it, he wouldn't eat her. Turn her, maybe. But even now as he thought about it... Eh. That probably wouldn't turn out too well.

The brown-haired twat in the corner, Xander -- Spike remembered him now; Angelus had offered him to Spike as a snack the night of his impatient school raid before Saint Vigeous -- he kept shooting him dirty glares. That is, in between the glances that he kept shooting toward the Slayer. Hey... Spike recognized that look. Hell, he'd fucking invented that Look. Oh-ho... so the boy was hot for Blondie, then? Wonder what his girl thinks of that, he thought, smirking as he peered at the aforementioned brunette.

Cordelia had glanced at Xander at the exact moment that his eyes had flitted toward Buffy -- or rather, Buffy's scoop-necked blouse -- and had just reached up to smack the boy in the back of the head. "Eyes back in your head, Harris, or you'll wish you were a eunuch," he heard her whisper. Xander's eyes went wide and his face went pale.

Oh... OH. He liked this girl. The thing about her, was that although she seemed too well-to-do, and above the others at this station, it was a show. She was actually pretty insecure inside, and he could tell by the barely-there lines on her face that she fretted over the little things, like how her friends would react to, say, the fact that she was dating a complete and absolute nonce. But beside all that, there was also a core of hard steel inside her, that made her just as brave as the others in this group. It made her a sound voice, and it also proved that just because she happened to be gorgeous, didn't mean she wasn't smart. In fact, she seemed to be the common sense of the outfit, when the Watcher was off in La-La Land.

He smirked. Plus, she'd make a helluva vampire. 'Course, since vampires were territorial and violent anyway, he didn't see how much difference it would make.

Oops. He seemed to be having the 'nummy, blood bag' thoughts that the Slayer had warned him about. He cast a cautious glance toward her... and saw that she was playing with a piece of string. Hmmm. Apparently, her affection for the Watcher did nothing to allay the feelings of complete boredom she felt in his presence. Spike leaned back against the stairs that led up to the stacks, taking the time to study her silently.

She was such a scrawny little thing. Tiny little waist, tiny little hands, tiny little arms, and feet, and legs. How in the hell had she managed to beat him so many times? He just didn't get it. He knew full well that the Slayer's ancient power surged potently through her veins, under that smooth, tan California girl skin. Hell, he could smell the sweet intoxication of her blood right through that skin, not to mention being on the receiving end of her aggression half the time. But how the Higher Ups had ever managed to cram such an explosive force into such a tiny little body was positively beyond him. It brought a whole new meaning to the phrase, "don't judge a book by its cover."

She kind of reminded him of the New York Slayer that he had slain. Except for obvious things, of course. The New Yorker... Nikki... had been from the '70s, and though she was a pivotal force of destruction, she barely matched what this '90s Slayer was capable of. He had respected Nikki and, though he was loathe to admit it, he respected this Slayer, too. Buffy was the only other opponent he had ever come across that bothered to return his quips and innuendos, and the only one that really matched him blow-for-blow, in speed and skill. His other rivals (not that he had that many), vampires, demons, or what-have-you, were just stupid, hellbent for a quick meal, or trying to become a new Master, which, now that Angelus was back, was never gonna happen.

He sat forward slightly, eyeing her intently. He'd met thousands upon thousands of beautiful women in his life, so Buffy was no exception. She wasn't explosively beautiful -- in fact, several chits in Sweden he knew were more gorgeous than her. Not to mention the fact that this girl was still barely out of adolescence -- she was only seventeen. But there was something about her, some sort of... well, he didn't know what. It was captivating. The girl radiated the same 'don't fuck with me' aura that he himself wore proudly, but at the same time, there was a playful, innocent child-like quality about her that was... almost remarkable to behold in a girl who had already managed to die and come back once, without fangs.

She was only a girl, but her eyes had already seen so much. She'd already grown up too fast. She was strong, and powerful, and brave, and cunning, resourceful... She had really thrown him for a loop the first time they'd fought. She was an absolute anomaly. She intrigued him, and angered him, and drove him absolutely nuts, but at the same time... that aura, that presence she had... She drew him, sucked him in, and for some reason, he found himself helpless to resist her. She made him want her. She made him hunger for her. She made him aroused.

Plus, she's got really nice tits. And it wasn't exactly like he could resist a woman who shook her tits in his face half the time in those tiny little scraps of cloth she called shirts.

Spike blinked, then bolted upright, shaking his head in alarm and instantly coming back to himself. Bad thoughts. BAD thoughts! Where the bloody hell had that come from?

But now, he couldn't help it. The seed had been planted, so to speak, and the more he looked at her, the harder... (he winced and discreetly attempted to adjust himself)... he got. Her eyes were just... so in depth. If he had the chance, he could probably... literally stare into them for hours. And her lips were so... lush, and pouty, and nibble-worthy, which was saying something because Spike never nibbled. Her neck was the smoothest expanse of skin he'd ever seen, and very.... lickable. And bitable, of course, but most especially lickable. Except for that scar that... he sniffed and glowered... that his bastard of a great-great-grandsire had placed on her.

Shaking it off... he was shaking it off... That barmy old bugger isn't around to criticize you anymore, just shake it off...

And moving downward... Well, he'd already expressed his interest in her full, perky young breasts (by now, he was throbbing), and the further down he went, the more he wanted to say 'sod this' and just take her in front of all her little pansy friends. Well, no, not all. Everyone except for the redhead. She'd probably be traumatized for the rest of her life.

His eyes traveled back up after he'd managed to get to her feet (very cute toes, by the way), and at that very moment, she stood up and began to pace. Her legs were long (despite the fact that she was so short -- did that make any sense?), curved delicately and tanned, hugged by the blue jean skirt she was wearing. She turned away from him, and he received a pain-inducing (for his crotch, at least) view of her ass. Tightly curved, swaying gently from side to side beneath her skirt, and for some reason, Spike just knew she was as tan under there as she was everywhere else. He let out a soft growl.

Buffy felt a tingly sensation run down her back, and instantly knew that someone was watching her. She had two guesses as to who: it was either Xander, who she ruled out immediately, because it looked like Cordy was about to castrate him for gaping at her again, not to mention the fact that he didn't exactly make her tingly, or... yeah, it was Spike. And, hearing his growl, she groaned to herself as she realized he was probably imagining her blood drained into a crystal goblet or something. The thought randomly popped into her head that at any snarky remark he made, the phrase 'eat me' just took on a whole new meaning. He probably would, too.

She turned to face him, and at once saw that she'd been wrong. Oh, sure, he looked hungry -- but not bloodlust hungry. Another shiver ran down her spine as she watched his eyes -- so blue, and so... well, something so beautiful, and warm and full of life that an evil, soulless vampire should not even have in the first place -- travel down the length of her body before slowly moving up again. When his eyes met hers and he realized she was watching him, he didn't avert his gaze, or scowl at her, or flash fang or anything. Instead, he made a show of slowly, hungrily, lustfully licking his lips. Buffy watched, her eyes becoming glazed, at the sight of his nimble pink tongue darting out to caress his soft, pillowy lips.

Er... clean-up on aisle two, we have a drooler.

Buffy blinked and quickly wrenched her gaze away from his. Bad Buffy. You shouldn't be staring at the hot, sexy... er, evil, disgusting vampire. You should be plotting ways to kill the evil, sexy -- DISGUSTING! -- vampire. Not thinking of what to do with that tongue. Definitely not thinking of that tongue... running down your... Oooh! BAD Buffy!

Her gaze flickered toward his for just a hundredth of a second, but what she did see of him made it clear that he knew exactly what she was thinking. His head was cocked to the side. A knowing smirk, and piercing eyes that stared a hole directly inside of her.

Okay. She was now convinced that Spike could read minds.

She flushed, and kept her gaze away from his for as long as she could. Suddenly, her skin felt too hot, and her clothing tight and restrictive. A rush of heat converged between her legs and she gazed down at herself in horror. Why was she reacting like this? She had gotten hot? And all Spike had done was look at her? In the point-two seconds that she'd glanced at him, how in the hell could she have managed to become aroused? And why him? She still wasn't over Angel! I-It was like... a widow getting married an hour after her husband was buried, or something, and, okay, so that was a really creepy analogy, but it fit. In a way, she was a widow, because in a fit of love-induced passion and a fear of abandonment, her Angel had essentially died, and Angelus had resumed the throne. The fact that Angelus seemed hellbent on simply annoying her to death instead of actually wrapping his hands around her throat and... okay, yeah, she wasn't actually going to finish the sentence now.

And besides. Spike? Yummy. I mean, EW! Gross! Yucky, icky Spike! 

Okay, the shit-eating grin on his face was really starting to make her uncomfortable. Stop looking at me! she wanted to scream. The problem was, she had a feeling that the smile would only get wider, and, well, her friends seemed to think she needed rehab for bringing him here in the first place -- they would probably only be too happy to toss her into a clinic before an apocalypse. Their idea of doing the right thing.

So the most she could do was just sit there and deal with it. At least until Giles finally found what he was looking for and sent them out. She'd make sure she was paired with Spike, just so she could beat the shit out of him if he tried anything on her.

Uh-huh. Right.

Giles frowned as he looked over his papers. He could have been certain that he'd left it right... there on the desk. Or maybe he'd put it on the table. And if Xander had used it as a napkin or something, he was gonna kill him.

Or not. His eyes lit up when he spotted the letter he'd been looking for, for some reason lying half halfway visible between his filing cabinet and his desk. Well, whatever, he wasn't going to question it now. All that mattered was that he'd found it. And as he grabbed it up and read it over, his mind struck him with the realization. Spike had said something about a stone. And, Powers help him, permitting he was right about this, then this stone, this... well, rock, was exactly what they were looking for.

Whatever this thing was capable of, he had no doubts that Angelus and Drusilla would go to any lengths imaginable to try and capture it.

He walked out of his office, waving the paper around. Instantly, Buffy spun around to face him, and Spike surged upwards on the steps, cocking his head to the side as he moved forward. The rest of the group simply stared in confusion when Buffy scuttled closer to Giles at Spike's approach. It... really wasn't like their leader to run from a vamp. Particularly the vamp that annoyed the hell out of her the most.

Spike watched Buffy hurry away from him with a smirk on his lips. The little bint was quite the prude, surprisingly. He'd smelled her reaction to his perusal earlier, and now she was running away when he approached like she was scared -- or worried -- that he was gonna take her down and fuck the living daylights out of her. Which, hey, not a bad idea right now. His cock was so hard it was this close to bursting, and for some reason, the thought of soft, warm, pliant but strong Slayer muscles under him was really working him up. He forced back an aroused groan at the thought.

Buffy folded her arms tightly over her chest, standing as close as possible to Giles without actually invading his personal bubble. Her eyes briefly flickered towards Spike, and she fought against the instant rage that enveloped her when she saw his smug, arrogant smile. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing to her! Calm, Buffy, she grumbled to herself. Whaling on the suddenly helpful vampire for making you hot by barely even doing anything is not gonna go over well. Except with Xander. Pfft. Like she was even gonna mention Spike's naughty looks to Alexander Harris. Angel... Angelus had been bad enough.

She forcibly shook the thoughts from her head. No More Thinking. If she did any more, she was going to drive herself nuts. And Psycho Buffy couldn't save the world as effectively as the original. Ooh. Original Extra-Crispy sounds good right about... argh! Focus!

"So what's the deal, Giles? Do you know what this thing is?" she asked, worrying her lower lip, while at the same time trying not to think of food, or the sexy blonde vampire who was currently still staring holes in the back of her head. Sexy? Okay, so it wasn't like it didn't describe him perfectly, and she'd caught herself becoming just a little teenybopper-ish in the last few minutes since she'd seen him checking her out. Besides, she did think he was good-looking. She'd thought it since the first time she'd met him.

Oooh! Gorgeous sexy male at... wha -- Oh... Shit! He's a vampire!

Her weekend had gone slightly downhill from there. What with the gorgeous sexy vampire now fully attempting to kill her. So what exactly had changed that? The fact that they were now, generally, in the same boat? That they were all sitting ducks until Angelus decided he wanted to go hunting again?

She was gonna stick with the fact that he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of her for the moment and leave it at that. Feminine wiles, don't fail me now!

Giles 'hmm'ed softly. "I know that it is a large rock. However, I have no knowledge of the powers it may contain. One of my acquaintances at the museum sent me this letter, asking if I would be able to assist in a study of some sort. Naturally, I agreed. A work crew has managed to excavate the large block of rock, which seems to be thousands of years old. There is no mention in here of anything unusual, but as always, this is Sunnydale, and we are above a Hellmouth, so anything can happen. I wouldn't be surprised if the stone contains the apocalypse inside of it right now."

He turned to Spike. "You said that Drusilla has seen this in a vision?" The vampire nodded once, eying the Watcher with his scarred eyebrow arched. "Can you recall exactly what she said?"

Spike frowned. In the past, he'd normally spent hours mulling over Dru's psychotic ramblings, and had become quite adept at ruling out what they meant -- you couldn't live almost 120 years without picking up a few things from a kill-happy loony. Unfortunately, since his ex-bint had become so fondly attached to her even more psychopathic 'daddy' and all, he hadn't exactly paid much attention to her riddles -- he'd been more on the side of trying not to hop out of the Red Trap of Doom and twist her head off like a bottle cap. And, unfortunately still, that meant he'd only caught bits and pieces of her words. Enough to get by and discover the answer, but not enough to appease Super-Research Man.

Ah, dammit. Buffy's California girl speech was seeping in again. Oh, and he'd called her 'Buffy' again. Now wasn't that just a doddle?

He sighed and screwed up his brows, thinking. "Er... I didn't get every single word she said, but it went somethin' like... Perpetual night... Excruciating pain... blah blah blah... Hell on Earth... She saw Sunnyhell on fire. An' a big demon thing with a sword stuck in 'is chest. Demons an' vamps running rampant..." He paused and licked his lower lip, then shrugged. "Eternal suffering. Y'know, apocalyptic visions, same old, same old. An' tha's jus' what I was able to translate."

Giles stopped, tilting his head curiously. "A demon with a sword in his chest?"

Spike nodded. "Yep. That'd be about it. She wasn't exactly one for sitting down an' explainin' herself."

Giles frowned. "Yes, well... of course." He turned away again and began scouting his books. "A demon with a sword in his chest," he murmured again.

Buffy watched quietly as Giles opened a book and began skimming. It had taken all of her might not to look at Spike before, and it was even worse now, because she could still feel those stupid, beady, beautiful -- wait, no, not beautiful -- disgusting blue eyes burning pinpricks into her body. Oh, god, it was hard to not turn around! She just wanted to give in and look at him all she wanted -- not because she was into him or anything. His hotness was simply a mere technicality that she could work around. It was because the way he was looking at her was making her... well... want him. Well, yeah. All he'd done was look at her, and she'd gone up about 60 degrees right then and there. Why was his nose twitching? Was he smelling something unnatural or -- oh, shit, she'd turned and looked at him without realizing it!

She inwardly squealed in horror and spun around instantly. Stupid subconsciousness! What the hell was going on here? How on earth could she, in the slightest, even be attracted to Spike? 'Cause he was still... 'ew, Spike.' This was in no way natural. He was doing something to her. With his mind, or some freaky vamp thing like that. He was evil! He was an evil, bloodsucking, soulless monster!

That happened to have a really tight, cute ass.

Oh, she'd done it again. She could see the group staring at her in bewilderment. What? she wanted to ask defensively. So what if I wanna start spinning in circles till my head hits the ground? It's better than listening to my thoughts, anyway!

How could he be affecting her this way? She'd been fine when she'd met up with him yesterday! Well, except during the tequila run, and wasn't she brilliant? Faking drunk, and bringing a vampire worse than her ex-boyfriend into the house! Okay, so Spike wasn't as bad as Angelus was. In fact, compared to the Psycho Fish Killer, Spike was pretty tame. As far as vampires went. But still. Evil and soulless.

Yep.

And hot.

Sigh. Okay. She was just gonna deal with it. Spike was hot -- factor acknowledged. There. Are ya happy now? she asked her brain.

A voice from inside her head snickered gleefully. Not nearly happy enough.

Uh-oh. Why didn't she like the sound of that?

"Buffy?"

She jumped. "No!"

Giles frowned at her. The group stared at her strangely, while Cordelia simply began to look bored. She'd seen enough of Buffy's weirdness to last her a lifetime. Spike had an eyebrow raised and there was a quirk in the corner of his lips, indicating he was more than slightly amused. And he was sniffing again. The hell? What was he, a bloodhound? She mentally snorted. Bloodhound... okay, that was unintentional. And funny.

"Well, er... I hope it isn't no, as a matter of fact. I need you to go and round up as much information as you can on this stone. Along the lines of Arcane rituals, Latin, demon, sword..." He paused. "Hell on earth."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Oh. So... apocalypse, then?"

"Yes."

She nodded once. "Right. Gotcha. I'm on it."

"Buffy," Giles called. He was going to regret this, he was really going to regret this... "Take someone with you."

She didn't stop, and without turning, she called to Xander. "Come on, Xand, big info search. I might let you beat up Willy the Snitch!"

Xander at once started to get up, but Giles put out his hand, wincing. "Actually... I'd prefer it if... Spike went with you."

The reaction was immediate, from Xander, Buffy and Willow all at once. "WHAT?"

Spike smirked and moved closer to the Slayer. Oooh... this was going to be fun...

"H-he commands a lot of respect in the demon community. He is a Master from the Line of Aurelius, Buffy. That in itself draws attention amongst demons, as Aurelius's blood line tends to have a great deal of strength, as well as intelligence."

Spike snorted. "I guess Peaches is the black sheep, then. All muscle, no brains."

A smile quirked on Xander's lips at that, but then he remembered who had said it, and his face turned stony again. "You can't let Bleach Boy go with Buffy! He'll probably turn on her along the way and use her as a midnight snack! If she has to go with him, then at least let me go along to keep an eye on him!"

Buffy scowled. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much, Xander Harris!"

He instantly turned on her. "Oh, like you took care of yourself with Angel? Yeah, look how well it turned out last time we left you alone with a vamp!"

Buffy visibly winced, pulling back, and Willow gazed at him, shocked. "Xander! How could you say that to her? As if she isn't hurting enough because of this, you have to go shove it in her face all over again? What the heck's wrong with you?" She walked past Oz toward Buffy, unheeding of Spike, and wrapped an arm around Buffy's shoulder.

More surprising, however, was the fact that Cordelia jumped on the 'don't dis Buffy' bandwagon. "Xander, that was incredibly harsh," she said, scowling. "I mean, sure, her ex is a raving psycho loony that's shacked up with yet another raving psycho loony" -- she paused and turned to Spike -- "No offense or anything, but it's true."

Spike shrugged and nodded. "No harm done."

Cordy turned back to her boyfriend. "But it wasn't as if she knew it was gonna happen! She fell in love and, big boohoo, it wasn't with you. Hello? Living in the past much? Get over it, and get off her case." Her eyes narrowed. "Unless you want to bring out the Queen Bitch. Which you are so close to right now, it's not even funny."

Xander's eyes darted back and forth among the group. Okay... okay... open-mouth-insert-foot syndrome strikes again. He knew when he was close to being killed. And from the look of anger and slight jealousy in Cordy's eyes, Xander had no doubt about how close to that line he really was.

Besides. Bloodthirsty vampire in the room. And if he stepped a toe out of line, one of the girls was sure to feed him to Spike. Instantly, he relented.

Turning to Buffy, he sighed. "I'm sorry. I just want you to be safe. You know that."

Buffy held his gaze for a moment, then abruptly shrugged off Willow's arm and turned away, striding to the exit. Xander's head ducked down in defeat -- for the moment. He was gonna need major brownie points to make up for this.

Giles hesitated for a minute, allowing Buffy to reach the door before calling her back. "Buffy. Take Spike with you."

Buffy spun around. "But Giles --"

Giles narrowed his eyes. "Now, Buffy."

"But --"

"Buffy!"

The Slayer -- the 17-year-old Chosen One -- stomped her foot in an act of childish petulance. "Fine!" Turning her rebellious gaze on the vampire, she growled out, "Come on then, Peroxide Boy." She looked at Giles again, then said sarcastically, "We have to go scrounge up info for the side of Good."

Without waiting for his response, she flounced out the door. Spike pinched the bridge of his nose, instantly feeling a headache coming on. This night was gonna be a bitch. Focusing his eyes on Xander, he slipped temporarily into game face and snarled threateningly, low in his throat. The boy let out a startled yelp and ducked behind his girlfriend, and Spike smirked before shifting back again. Shifting his gaze to Willow, he smiled and winked, then followed Buffy.

He'd been thinking to himself while the Slayer stomped around the town in front of him, occasionally flinging staking threats at him. Eh, he'd already gotten used to them. They'd managed to get old.

They'd gone through every demon bar that Spike recalled, and the breakthrough had already come at Willy's, after Spike had needed to, er... refresh the sleazy little bar-tender's memory. Honestly, do a bloke a favor once, an' they think they're scot-free!

"I-I-I don't know much!" he'd yelped. "I heard from a couple of guys of Angel's that this thing was heading into town in a week's time, and that it was pretty much gonna make everything go kablooey." When Buffy had snarled at him and yanked him right over the bar and onto the floor, threatening his vital organs with a painful ending, he'd relinquished the whole of the information: a ritual was to awaken the forthcoming apocalypse, and that blood was necessary. As to what was so special about the stone, there was nil.

Currently, they were heading back to the library with the information, and Buffy was muttering to herself about right, and wrong, and blah, blah, blah. There was also a brief snatch in there about keeping an eye on Angel's actions in order to avoid any needless deaths for the blood ritual. Spike was more than slightly amused at the firebrand in front of him. Throughout the entire night, she'd been a raving Hellbitch, that he figured was more due to the boy's idiocy than to the fact that Spike was tagging along with her.

In the library, Spike had managed to come to terms with himself. He could be honest, all truthful and no bullshit. He wanted her. He wanted to tie her to a bed, and shag her up, down, upside down, sideways, backways, and right into the middle of next month, until both of them were screaming in pleasure, until both of them were sated. It was as simple as that. The woman couldn't just walk in front of him, swaying that delicious ass from side to side, throwing her breasts in his face at every turn, or do the most innocent but arousing things with her tongue without expecting him to tear the seams in his jeans.

At the moment, he'd already popped half of them. It was a miracle that his baser mind hadn't managed to fall out and give her a scare yet.

But the fact of the matter that his intelligent mind was focused on at the moment, was that the girl was still head over heels for her brooding romance novel poofter. And he knew that Angelus hated the girl -- Buffy had instilled the most humanity in him. And it was only natural that she and her circle be the basis for his assault. And Spike... well, he'd been tossed to the side, in favor of a master that had proper use of his legs. The simple fact that he had given Dru everything he'd ever had inside of him had gone overlooked, as far as his former lover was concerned. His love for her had never meant anything. And truth be told, he could kill Dru for it.

In fact... he was planning on it.

So. Buffy was focused on killing the poof, but she was still in love with him. Angelus was focusing every fiber of his idiotic mind on destroying Buffy, assuming he wasn't currently engaged in any physical activities with Drusilla at the moment. And Dru, the insane beauty, was focused on three things only: her daddy; the degradation and destruction of the Slayer at Daddy's hand; and the destruction of the entire world. So Spike, as usual, was left out of the equation.

But he'd already made a way in. Buffy's reactions to him had most certainly not gone unnoticed. Which meant that she wasn't as cuckoo for Peaches as she thought she was. But the problem was that Angelus had laid claim to her, so he couldn't... shouldn't... technically do anything about it. But if there was one thing the poof hated, it was when someone upstarted him. When someone laid claim to what was so obviously his.

And it was a surefire way to distract him as well. Because Spike, in all actuality, hadn't really wanted to become Destructo Vamp with the whole bloody planet. He'd just gone along with it because Dru had wanted it. He liked it here.

His eyes fluttered again to Buffy's backside, and a smirk quirked his lips. He really liked it here.

An' hey, let's face it: 've always liked to piss off Peaches. Jus' for shits an' giggles. No better way to do it than to claim his Slayer's hot little body.

Well. That settled it. He was going to have to play nice with Buffy.

"OW!"

Right after she stopped hitting him.

Buffy folded her arms, scowling at him. "Try being on the listening end when there's a rant being directed at you."

His first reaction was to squeeze that lovely little throat of hers. He didn't act on it. Instead, he forced himself to calm down, then tilted his head to the side, rubbing the stinging redness of his newly injured nose. Deciding he would try to play the sympathy card, he sighed and ducked his head. "Sorry. Was thinkin' 'bout Dru."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Why would you wanna think about that ho?"

Spike felt a thundering scowl settle on his brow at that, and he growled. "Don't call her that."

The Slayer shrugged. "Why not? It's true, isn't it? Why would you want to think about her, when she's traipsing around right in front of your nose, boning my ex?"

Spike started to reply, then stopped, staring at her in surprise. She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. "What? Did you think I didn't understand what you said? You're British, not Chinese." She took a deep breath. "Shagging is slang for screwing. And I knew it couldn't be wrong after hearing Cordelia talking. The psycho loonies shacking up with each other?" She looked away from him. "Angel wasn't thrilled to death with my performance. It would only make sense he'd go after an experienced woman. Even more sense that it would be his childe."

Spike tilted his head. "It was your first go-round, wasn't it, pet?"

She looked at him sharply. "Yes. And don't call me that."

Spike ignored her. "An' he was perfectly normal until the morning after, right?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah..."

"Did he flood the gate?"

"Huh?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Did he come, Slayer?"

His eyes followed the irresistible blush moving up her cheeks. "Uh... yeah."

"Did he scream your name?"

Her face was the hue of a tomato. "Yes..."

Spike shrugged. "Then he lied to you. You brought him to his knees, so he twisted your head 'round, played with your mind. Whatever he said to you, was prolly the most hurtful thing he could think of. 'S why you went from a bloody fantastic shag to... er, inept." She still didn't look convinced. Spike sighed. "Slayer, you fucked him so well that the sod lost his bloody soul. The desouled version was lying to you. You weren't an awful shag."

"Oh," she said softly. Her face was still red, and she still looked embarrassed, but she also looked slightly grateful. And then weirdness set in. "Oh. Okay. This is frankly the most disturbing conversation I've ever had with you. I'm stopping it. Now." She turned and started walking again.

Spike chuckled to himself, jogging slightly to catch up. "You brought the subject up, pet."

"Stop calling me that." A long pause followed before Buffy tentatively spoke up again. "So... why?"

He looked over at her. "Why what?"

She refrained from looking at him. "Why are you still thinking of your ho of a girlfriend?"

Spike frowned, then shook his head and sighed. "I guess... 'cos I've been with her since I was turned." He stopped, pursing his lips and thrusting his hands into his duster's pockets as he stood in place. "I mean... I never left her. I was always there, always there for her, when she needed me. I loved her." He saw her look at him skeptically and he scowled. "I did! Jus' because I don't have a precious soddin' soul doesn't mean I don't know how to love. Believe me, if anything, I love too bloody much. It's a fuckin' curse."

Her gaze softened slightly. "When I held that stake to her heart. When we were at that vampire clique." She paused, studying him deeply. "You were scared."

He nearly exploded. "Bloody right I was! You were threatenin' to kill the woman I loved!" He stared at her incredulously. "You think I care so much about blood, about violence, murder, about killing you, that I'd have let her just die? You think you know me so bloody well, you think you've got my whole attitude down to a T? You think I'm just a selfish, idiot vampire that doesn't care either way about love or food?" He shook his head. "Well, you're half right. I am selfish. But not so selfish that I willingly would have given Dru up to your whole ass-kicking brigade... thing. The only thing I know, is I loved her. You could stake me for all I care, but so long as you didn't touch Drusilla."

Buffy remained silent for a bit, then followed Spike as he began to walk again. "And do you still feel that way? I mean, with the whole her and Angelus thing going on."

He sighed. "No matter what she's done to me, I'm always gonna love her. She created me, she... fuckin' raised me. She made me who I am. She believed in me, encouraged me when I wasn't good enough for my grandsire an' that bitch, Darla. So, yeh, Slayer, I do still feel that way." He paused. "But 'm still gonna kill her for fuckin' Angelus."

She let out a soft snort at that. "Well, good. One down, Angel to go."

Spike eyed her. "You ready to kill 'im? You know it's what you gotta do."

Buffy nodded. "I'm ready. As long as he doesn't throw me for a loop, like suddenly getting his soul back, I'm ready." She smiled brightly as she spun to look at him. "And then, I'm gonna kill you."

Spike cocked a brow, bemused. "You think you're gonna kill me?"

Buffy lifted her chin, gazing at him smugly. "I know I'm gonna kill you."

Spike smirked. "Is that a fact."

Without warning, he launched himself at her, taking her down to the grass with his weight. Snarling, he threw his head back as he slipped into game face, straddling her waist. Buffy flailed beneath him, kicking her legs uselessly, crying out in dismay. He leaned forward over her, his hands grasping her arms tightly. Tilting his head to the side, he slowly opened his mouth as he neared her throat.

And then, sudden pain as Buffy bucked up, then threw her head forward, headbutting him. Spike let out a stunned yell, falling back. It took him less than a second to get back up again, and he met with Buffy's heeled boots as he did. As he dropped back down again, he aimed a swing at her midsection, connecting and forcing Buffy to double over in pain. For good measure, he grabbed hold of her hips, propelling his head into her stomach.

Buffy yelped as Spike brought her down again, attempting to move on top of her, and she struggled, kicking at him as hard as she could. A strangled cry from his throat let Buffy know she'd connected, although she hadn't had the pleasure of emasculating him: he'd been crawling up her body when she'd hit him, and his head had almost been level with her stomach.

Reacting quickly, before Spike could, she used her momentum and rolled on top of him, pinning him firmly to the ground, practically stretched on top of him. Her knees were firm around his legs like a vice, and her hands were grasping his arms firmly, leaving him pretty much immobile. But in no way was he helpless. He still had his mouth.

"Slayer!" he gasped, feigning shock. "Never thought you'd be one to take it on top!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Spike."

He couldn't resist the urge to tease her some more. "So did your precious poof ever get to see this side of you? Or did he do the romantic thing. You know, flowers, candles, him on top, pumping away?" An evil smirk curled his lips. "Wonder what he would've said if you'd done this to him? What if he saw us like this? Would it shatter his image of innocent, naive little you? Would he have --"

Buffy released one arm momentarily to pop him in the nose before pinning it firmly to the ground again. Spike growled in frustration. "Would you stop aiming for the nose?"

"Well, maybe." He looked at her in surprise, before her gaze hardened. "I might if you weren't such a disgusting, perverted pig!"

"Oh, come on, it's not like you haven't thought about this!"

"I haven't --"

"And it can't be that you're the innocent, virginal one, 'cos we both know that's not true --"

"How dare you!"

"Well, you're not a prude if you're getting on top of me like this. All 'm askin' is if you rode the poofter!"

Buffy nearly shrieked in frustration and embarrassment. "That is none of your business, family or no, and if you think for a second that I'm gonna treat you like my secret gossip friend, then you are sadly mistake -- eep!"

Spike had broken free of her grip and had used her slight distraction to flip her over once again. His body now lay cradled between her thighs, and suddenly... she was painfully aware of Spike's state of arousal. She gazed up at him wide-eyed.

Spike cocked his head. "Maybe you are a bit of a prude." She huffed indignantly, and he smiled. "Think it's time I remedied that."

Like a bolt of lightning, his head ducked down, and he captured her lips in a hard, hungry kiss. Buffy gave a loud squeal of shock and dismay, automatically trying to kick him off.

But there was a problem here. A very big problem. Well, besides the problem that was currently rubbing briskly between her thighs.

Spike was a really good kisser.

And eventually, Buffy's protests died down. And soon after that, she began to kiss back.

It was really hard to stop.

Spike hadn't been able to resist the temptation. Flipping the Slayer over, she had looked so flushed, so rosy, so... delicious, that he just had to give in and see if those lips were really as soft as they looked.

Besides, he just been fighting her. Fighting made him horny. Not to mention his new-found lust for the young woman shifting under him at the moment. A soft groan escaped his throat as her thigh brushed his erection. Oh, god, he was seriously gonna need alone time after this.

More than anything, he wanted to taste her. But he had already managed to get carried away, and so, reluctantly, he pulled away from Buffy's intense heat. Of course he immediately regretted it. The site of her lying underneath him, flushed, sweating, breathing heavily, her lips already swollen and looking thoroughly kissed was enough to make him want to just rip her clothes off right then and there.

Unfortunately, her sensibilities came back moments after he pulled away, and her eyes widened in shock. She began pushing at him, and Spike rolled off of her, climbing to his feet. She gazed at him warily when he reached his hand down, then cautiously accepted it, allowing him to pull her up. Quickly and methodically, she brushed herself off, cursing under her breath when she saw grass smears on the jean skirt, and cursing louder when an old fallen leaf wouldn't cooperate and instead crumbled in her hair.

Quickly, before she could do anything, Spike swept behind her and brushed out her hair, pulling the broken leaf's pieces out. Then he moved away as quickly as he'd come, leaving her to look at him in wonder and trepidation. Then, simultaneously, they turned and continued on toward the school.

After a moment's silence, Buffy spoke, not looking at him. "That didn't happen," she murmured quietly. "Got that? There was never a heat-of-the-moment Buffy/Spike kissy moment, okay? It did NOT happen."

Spike looked at her, tilting his head as he saw the tremor in her shoulders. His eyes moved down to her tiny hands, and he saw that they were shaking as well. He looked back up at her face, smirking to himself when he saw that she was blushing insanely now. He nodded. "Got it. Didn't happen."

She sighed in relief.

But that doesn't mean that it couldn't happen at all.

Looked like he was well on his way toward revenge.

four || two || fog home || the naughtiness