Author's Note: Yes, this will be one of those fics with endless UST...well, not entirely unresolved... But it's entertaining UST, and in the end isn't that half the fun? ^_^

All in all, Buffy was glad that Willow had already gone off to class by the time she woke up. The recent memory of beautiful, pale hands doing the most wondrous things to her would undoubtedly have ruined her concentration…just like they had for the entire afternoon. And she was quite thoroughly sick of it. This spell is warping my mind, her mind insisted repeatedly. It’s making me want…that. She shivered; whether from revulsion or something else, she chose not to think about.

However, she couldn’t ignore the fact that what she had had last night was a Slayer dream. Thankfully, the part she was trying to avoid thinking about had occurred entirely after the prophetic part had ended. For that she was eternally grateful.

But, as usual, her dream had made very little sense. What she desperately wanted to do right then was to go tell it to Jonathan so that he could explain it to her. Giving up the ally with the psychology degree and the specialty in dream analysis was a definite minus of her current situation. Hell, right now she’d even go to Giles to see if he could make heads or tails of it. But all those options were out.

Stick to the plan, she encouraged herself. Jonathan and the monster were linked in dream. Just keep worrying about the monster, and maybe everything else will just work itself out…yeah, right.

She started well the bell rang and guiltily walked out of the class she hadn’t been paying attention to. Fortunately, it was the last one of the day. All she had to do now was drop off her English Lit. assignment, stop back by the dorm to change into something stealthy, and sneak out to meet Spike.

Why was it that the simplest plans always went awry?

“Buffy!”

Buffy halted dead in her tracks. Please don’t be Riley! she pleaded inwardly. Please don’t be Riley, please don’t be Riley…

“Hey, Buffy,” Riley panted, slightly out of breath, as he slowed to walk beside her. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Just dropping off my paper in Professor Cavitch’s box,” she smiled sweetly and continued to walk on at a brisk pace. Thank you very much, universe, she grumbled internally. I can’t even ask for one little thing…

“Professor Cavitch’s box is in there,” Riley pointed to the building she’d just left.

“Right,” she nodded, increasing her pace, “and I just dropped off my paper in there.”

“So whatcha doin’ now?” he inquired.

Buffy cringed inwardly. “Just going home to drop off my books and change,” she began.

“Great!” he said enthusiastically. “We can do something tonight then.”

She slowed to halt and fumbled for the best excuse she could think of. “Sorry,” she finally said, falsely apologetic, “but I have to patrol tonight, which means I have to get all my homework done first…”

“No, you don’t,” he said with a little grin. “After you left last night, we decided that you probably needed a little break. So Jonathan agreed to do your patrol tonight!”

“What?” Buffy said, dumbfounded.

“Surprise!” Riley said cheerfully.

“B-But I really should…” she began weakly.

“You need to relax,” Riley said, resting his hands on her shoulders and beginning to give them a little massage. “Take the night off for once, and we can do something fun.”

Wrong hands to relax to… Buffy let out a long sigh. “Homework…” she made one last protest.

“Homework can wait,” he informed her. “I was thinking that maybe we could have some time alone, talk things over… My dad always told me that the best place for a long conversation with a lady’s on a long, moonlit drive in the countryside.”

“That’s…nice,” Buffy forced the smile onto her face, “but I really feel like—”

“You want to go Bronzing instead, that’s cool,” he hastily amended. “I told Xander we’d meet him and Anya there later, anyway.”

“You told them already?” she asked in disbelief.

Riley gave her a sheepish grin. “Well, yeah. I figured since Jonathan got us back together…”

“It’s all right,” Buffy sighed wearily. “I just have to go change first.”

“Great!” he said with a broad grin.

Buffy debated escaping out the window while Riley waited out the hallway “like a gentleman” while she changed. Unfortunately, sooner or later even he would realize that she wasn’t coming out, and then would come the searching parties, and the catching of her in probably the most awkward situation imaginable, and the explanations, and the disbelief, and the mental institutions, and the electroshock treatment…and she was probably exaggerating now, but still her escape plan had been foiled.

No, she would have to escape later. This was a better plan. She would go with Riley to the Bronze, hang out for a little while, and then plead a headache or something. Actually, this was a serious situation. It was time to pull the Big Gun out the excuse bag. In the mirror she prepared her ‘I’ve got feminine problems’ look for use on Riley later – the only sure fire way to send every male in a ten minute radius running away in horror.

Switching into a black blouse and set of pants that looked just dressy enough not to arouse suspicion, she stepped out to meet Riley, her smile now more genuine that she wasn’t condemned for the entire night…

Buffy yawned. Whatever had possessed to date a guy that thought stories about farm equipment were exciting was beyond her.

“Because sometimes there are accidents if the engine’s not tuned right…” Riley went on and on in the background while Xander nodded in rapt fascination.

She figured it was probably one of those guy things, bonding over carburetors and the latest issue of Playboy…

Anya looked no less bored. “Let’s dance!” she abruptly demanded, blessedly cutting off Riley’s speech. Buffy could have kissed her right then. “We can gyrate erotically in front of dozens of strangers and then sneak off to have sex!” she added perkily.

Xander stuttered and apologized ineffectively before rushing off to follow Anya’s suggestion. That left Buffy alone with Riley.

“Wanna dance?” she asked half-heartedly.

“I don’t dance,” he reminded her.

“Oh…yeah.”

“So…” he began.

“So…” she agreed.

“How ‘bout them Lakers?” he finally asked.

Buffy frowned. “Why do they call them ‘Lakers’ anyway? I mean, there aren’t any lakes in LA!”

“Actually, I know this one,” Riley began proudly. “See, they used to play up in—”

“Uh-oh,” Buffy cut him off before he could go into boring-sports-mode. “Drink’s empty,” she explained, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“Here, let me get you a refill,” he stood up, taking her glass.

God, he’s so predictable…

“I’ll just go join Xander and Anya while you do that,” she smiled at him, then practically fled when he turned his back.

She circled the dance floor as far away from Riley as she could and prepared the first stage of her attack – the ‘somewhat awkward dancing’.

However, before she go join Xander and Anya on the floor, rough arms grabbed her about the waist and mouth, silencing her as they pulled her back into the shadows.

“Stay quiet now, pet,” a deep voice breathed into her ear, setting her entire body ablaze. He removed the hand from her mouth.

“S-Spike?” she gasped in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” She fought the memory of what hands just like the one on her stomach had done to her in her dream and spun around to face him.

The darkness hung around him several shades blacker than usual, as it had a tendency to do around vampires and other creatures of the night.

“Thought we had a date, Bunny,” he taunted her, his tongue flicking out to lick his upper teeth and giving her a brief sneak preview of just how agile it was.

“It’s Buffy,” she seethed. “And, no date! We were just going to—”

“You were gonna take me out for a night on the town,” he teased and flashed her a mock pout. “Din’t think you would stand me up, Slayer. ‘Specially since we were betrothed once…”

“What part of ‘never mention that again’ don’t you understand?” she hissed.

“What?” he sniffed unconvincingly. “Ditch a bloke at the altar an’ then don’t ever call? Didn’t know you were so cruel…”

She put a hand to her forehead. Much more of this and she wouldn’t have to fake the headache excuse. “Knock it off, Spike,” she finally said wearily.

“Right then,” he nodded. “We’ll be off then.” He grabbed her arm again.

She shrugged him off. “I can’t,” she protested. “They can’t see us together or they’ll know—”

“Know what?” he raised a scarred eyebrow at her. “That the obvious conclusion is that the two of us ‘re conspirin’ together to overthrow Jonathan by way of a l’il breakin’ and enterin’?”

“They’ll know that something’s up,” she retorted. “Maybe you should do this part alone…”

“Yeah, right,” he said in a clipped voice. “Not that I don’ trust you not to set me up, luv, but…I don’t trust you not to set me up.”

“Fine,” she hissed. “I’m coming. Just let me get out of here my way.”

“Ten minutes,” he gave her a suspicious look.

“Ten minutes,” she agreed. “I’ll meet you there.”

He vanished into the shadows once again.

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. She always found it exceedingly difficult to think when he was near. Time to make my escape. She found Riley at the table and walked over to him with a somewhat uncomfortable sliding step. This was stage two, the ‘ouch, I’ve got really bad cramps’ ruse.

“I got your drink,” he handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she gave him a small smile. She promptly sat down, took two sips, and announced that she had to go to the bathroom. Stage three: ‘mysterious bathroom trip.’

She redid her makeup, checked her hair, and hummed a bit as she checked her watch. She had no doubt that Spike would get majorly pissed if she didn’t show up on time, but she needed to stay in here just long enough to convince Riley that she was doing ‘unspeakable feminine things.’

Deciding she’d waited long enough, she strode back over to the table, still limping slightly and with phase four – the ‘I have to go now look’ – firmly in place.

“I’m really sorry, Riley,” she began. “I was having such a nice time.” Not. “But I’m not feeling very well. I think I should call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” he frowned for a second and then recognized The Look. She would have sworn he leapt back several inches. “Right,” he nodded numbly. “You should go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or, next week.” He flinched slightly. “Or, later.”

“Bye,” Buffy gave him a final smile and tried not to rush from the Bronze at her elation. Works every time, she thought to herself satisfactorily…

“I don’t like this,” Buffy whispered.

He rolled his eyes.

“Jonathan’s going to catch us.”

“Look,” Spike said in a perfectly normal speaking voice, “’e’s not here. There’s no one to catch us.”

“But anyone walking by could hear us!” she protested, still whispering.

“If you don’ stop chatterin’ away, they will,” he hissed at her.

“But I feel guilty,” Buffy finally sighed, reluctantly taking the volume Spike handed to her, “and how am I supposed to read this in the dark anyway?” She stared into the pitch black where she guessed Spike was.

“Should’ve thought of that before you came,” he countered, reading through the book before him with perfect ease. “Nope,” he shut it and replaced it on the shelf. “Lemme see yours.”

She handed it back to him without complaint.

“An’ this is no good, either,” he commented. “There’s nothing here.”

“Well, he must keep his demon books somewhere,” Buffy insisted.

Spike nodded, although the effect was lost since she could only see his vague outline in the darkness. “’f he’s tryin’ to keep ‘em hidden,” he began thoughtfully, “then they’re prob’ly in the bedroom.”

“Sounds good,” Buffy agreed. “Let’s go.” She turned around, took a step, and promptly crashed into the end table.

“Bloody hell, woman!” Spike exclaimed, lunging to catch the lamp before it could fall to the floor and break.

“Sorry,” Buffy apologized sheepishly.

“Why don’t we jus’ advertise our presence?” he inquired sarcastically. “Big neon banner: ‘Burglary In Progress’.”

“I said I was sorry,” she hissed. “It’s not my fault we’re bumbling around in the dark because someone refuses to turn on any lights.”

“Again,” he raised one eyebrow at her sardonically, “do you want to get caught?”

“I want to see!” she countered.

“Thought Slayers had night vision,” he scoffed.

“We do,” she insisted. “We have very good night vision…for humans.”

He let out a sigh of exasperation. “Why me?” he asked before grabbing hold of her.

“Eek! Spike!” she squealed in horror when he lifted her up into his arms. “Where are you taking me?!”

“The bedroom,” he informed the squirming load in his arms.

“Pervert!” she screamed and hit him hard in the head.

“Watch it!” he cried out, clutching his nose and dropping her in the process. “That hurt!”

Buffy made an ‘oof’ sound when she hit the floor.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he reluctantly apologized, moving to pick her up again.

She scootched away from him. “Keep your hands off me! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Fine,” Spike gave her a long-suffering sigh, “you can jus’ bumble ‘round in the dark tryin’ to find the bedroom by your lonesome.” He proceeded to stomp up the stairs.

“Spike?” she asked curiously, feeling around her and discovering he wasn’t there. “Where are you?”

He stopped, fought back the clenching muscle in his jaw, and climbed back down to where she was. “Right here, luv,” he whispered right against her cheek.

She leapt back a foot, arms flailing wildly. “Don’t do that!” she exclaimed, trying to calm her racing pulse.

“Right then,” he said, obviously annoyed. “So what do we do then? I just stand here watchin’ you wander around blind as a bat ‘cause ‘m not s’posed to touch you? We could make a game out of it. How’re you at Marco Polo?”

“You’re not trying anything sneaky and underhanded?” she asked warily.

“’m always tryin’ somethin’ sneaky an’ underhanded,” he teased, “but no hanky panky in th’ bedroom, honest. You’ve really got to get over this notion that ‘m about to ravish you.”

And why aren’t you? her mind began that oh-so-bad pouting again. Don’t you want me? Don’t you remember that spell just as much as I do and spend every waking hour wishing that we had had time at least once to—

“Slayer? Hello?” The gentle slap to the face pulled her out of the happy-but-forbidden place her mind was in. “Wake up, Slayer!”

“Stop that,” she pushed his hand aside.

“So now what?” he demanded.

“Fine,” she sighed, “you can carry me…”

She really tried not to enjoy the feel of those strong arms holding her once more. Really she did. And the soft, short hairs at the back of his neck where she had wrapped her hands to keep from falling again…

“Here we are,” he set her down unceremoniously. “Don’t move. Don’t knock anythin’ over.”

“I’m not a child,” she sulked.

“Sure, you’re not,” he rolled his eyes, turning to the bookshelf. His brow furrowed. “There’s nothin’ here either…” he began.

In the hallway, a light turned on.

Spike blinked and shifted out of game face at the sudden light.

Slowly, soft footsteps echoed down the hallway, headed straight for the bedroom…

In unison, the two of them dove for the closet, Spike closing the door behind them. The bedroom light turned on just instants after he did so. Buffy gave Spike an irritated look for not detecting that anyone was in the mansion. He shrugged.

“I don’t see it in here,” one of the twins called from beside the bed.

“Check the closet,” the other called from the hall. “It might be in there.”

Buffy and Spike mouthed the word ‘Closet?!’ in perfect time with each other. He quickly nudged her to go to the back of the walk-in closet, and she did so, getting as close to the back wall as she could. He squeezed in as close to her as he could. She held her breath and waited as the closet door opened…

And then something shifted beneath her hand. She fell backwards as the wall slipped out from behind her and grabbed the nearest thing she could find for support. Unfortunately, that happened to be Spike. They both toppled back into the secret compartment that had just opened up just before one of Jonathan’s floozies turned on the closet light.

She blinked when she thought she saw something moving at the very back, but then shook her head. It had seemed as if the wall had just closed up, and she knew that was ridiculous. She continued to search for her sister’s misplaced bathrobe.

Buffy and Spike found themselves in an only slightly less uncomfortable position. The secret room was small, just small enough for the two of them to be squished together face to face. Spike had to lean forward in order not to accidentally trigger the door again…and, well, because he didn’t exactly have any real objections to being pressed up against the Slayer’s hot little body.

She squirmed slightly to get her arms out from in between them and give them more room, and he fought back a moan when she rubbed just the right way over certain regions of his anatomy…

“There,” Buffy whispered in his ear when her arms were finally freed. She rested her hands lightly on his shoulders and waited for the danger to pass.

“Are you sure you left it in here?” one of the sisters was demanding.

“Positive,” the other insisted, also standing at the closet door now.

“It was the blue one right?” the first inquired.

“Well, actually it’s more aquamarine than blue…”

Buffy rolled her eyes in irritation at the inane conversation that was keeping them cooped up in here. There were shelves against her back, and they dug into her spine in a particularly unpleasant way. Not to mention the fact that the stake in Spike’s pocket was poking her right between the…

Her eyes widened and she let out an involuntary gasp when he shifted slightly and she felt for certain that that was not a stake in his pants. Who knew he was so big?! And, oh god, he was rubbing right up against her…

She began to squirm again, trying to escape the persistent vampire erection that sent little twinges of ecstasy through her clit…even with several layers of clothes separating them.

Spike at least had the decency to look embarrassed and uncomfortable as well, and he tried to shift away, too.

Their efforts were synchronously timed, however, and rather than alleviate the pressure, they managed to grind harder together, unintentionally dry humping each other.

“Oh god,” Buffy whimpered at the sensations that swept over her, heedless of the fact that they might be heard.

Spike put his hand over her mouth to silence her and then gritted his own teeth to prevent himself from crying aloud.

On a mutual signal, they both froze in place, still touching intimately but not making the matter any worse for the time being.

“Is this it?” one of the sisters asked, still searching for the missing bathrobe.

“No,” the other said in exasperation. “The one with the frilly, lacy thing.”

“Oh, that one! I saw it here just now…”

Buffy and Spike stayed stock still, both praying that the sisters would find the damn robe already and let them get out of this awkward position.

“There!” one finally said.

“That’s it!” the other agreed.

With what seemed like agonizing slowness, they turned out the closet light and shut the door. A few seconds later the bedroom lights were off and that door shut as well.

“Are they…gone?” Buffy panted right in Spike’s ear.

He nodded weakly.

“We have to get out,” she declared.

“Can you…reach the…panel?” His unnecessary breathing was heavy as well, and he was trying as hard as he could to block out the scent of Slayer arousal.

“How do you open it?” she felt against the panel with her hands, her face pressed right up against Spike’s chest to reach around him better.

He moaned aloud when her cheek roughly rubbed one of his nipples through his shirt. “Have to get out!” he exclaimed desperately. He felt as though the heat of her were burning him alive.

Buffy felt the heat, too, and was sweating with exertion by now. “Think I’ve…found something.” She reached for it and accidentally ground herself harder against Spike’s erection as she did so. If anything, it swelled up even larger than before.

She let out a little mewling sigh as her stomach got a good feel of just how large he really was. She mentally made note of where he began and ended to take measure later. Hey, if she was going to have fantasy dreams, she might as well have accurate measurements, right…?

A switch clicked beneath her hand. The panel opened, and Spike practically leapt back out of her arms. The place between her legs feeling a bit uncomfortable, she stepped out to join him.

He flicked on the closet light, and one mutual look was all it took to tell each other that they would never refer to this incident again…

“Let’s see what ol’ Johnny’s keepin’ secret, shall we?” Spike said, breaking the awkward silence between them.

Buffy nodded, and they looked at the contents of the hidden room together.

“Books!” she exclaimed. “Bet they’re the ones we’re looking for!”

“I don’t think so,” his brow furrowed, picking up the nearest one. “ ‘The Nitpicker’s Guide for Classic Trekkers’?” he read the title in disbelief.

“ ‘Star Wars’ novels?” Buffy agreed.

“Feel like we’re in the Nerd Central Library,” Spike commented, shutting the panel again.

“Why would Jonathan hide all this stuff?” Buffy wondered. “And does this mean he doesn’t have any demon books?”

“The answer to the first is ‘e doesn’t want anyone to know ‘e’s a geek,” Spike concluded, “and the answer to the second is no, I don’t think so…”

Oh, will they do it next chapter? You'll just have to keep reading on and on to find out...and reviewing as well... Bwahaha! ~_^