Spike really tried not to do it. Had a whole inner debate and even convinced himself to go to another bar. So here he was on his way to the Fishtank avoiding Willy’s Bar like the plague. After last night’s little contretemps he was not going to put himself in that situation again. It was time he faced facts. No matter what he did, no matter how much he helped her – Buffy would only ever see the demon and never the man. And he was both. Now more than ever he realised that. Sod Angelus and his ‘it was Angelus who did that, I’m good now – I’m Angel’ crap. Angel was Angelus just as much as Angelus was Angel. One and the same; like twins that shared one body instead of two. If that poofter couldn’t work that out for himself, he deserved to brood for eternity. And Buffy was obviously suckered into the same school of thought. Beyond his reach.



Not for the first time Spike thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t been cursed with a soul; he had a hard enough time with the chip in his head and adjusting his lifestyle to that. He still couldn’t get used to cold blood and it had been a bit of hit and miss with the microwave at first. Should really get himself one of those meat thermometers to check it was all human temperature when he’d zapped himself a mug. Yeah, that’d be great.



He stopped his musings and reached for the door handle.



Bloody hell. How had he gotten to Willy’s when the Fishtank was over on the other side of town? Was there a conspiracy? Still……..as he was here….



Maybe it was her night off…..



No. There she was, stupid blond hair gleaming like a beacon as he sauntered towards the bar. He took his seat on the stool without a word, holding Buffy’s gaze from about half way across the room and refusing to blink as he sat down. She looked away and he smiled a small smile of triumph.,i> ‘Forgets who she’s messin’ with….’



It was obvious that she was avoiding him. She wouldn’t even serve him, sending Willy to fill his glass. The bar was packed too, and there was plenty of opportunity for her to be occupied elsewhere. Spike shrugged; didn’t matter to him. Didn’t want to speak to her anyway, just wanted to have a quiet night, maybe shoot some pool, play some poker. And most importantly – get rip-roaring drunk.



Buffy made a show of ignoring him, only glancing across under pretence of checking for waiting customers. He was knocking back shot after shot and seemed to be muttering to himself, waving his hands around as if he was disagreeing with what he was saying. That would be just like him; he had the knack of irritating, even unintentionally, so no doubt he was seriously pissing himself off. She grinned. More and more often, before she’d called a halt to their couplings, she’d found herself analysing him, watching him. Smiling inside when she knew what he was going to do next before he did it. To be honest, that was part of the reason she’d told him it had to end. He was getting too close to her. He made her crazy. She had to stop it before he realised.



And now, here she was again, watching him and feeling all warm when she just knew he would curl his lip at any moment………there! Full on snarl. Buffy shook her head. If he knew she was thinking of him constantly…..well, she just couldn’t let that happen. It was wrong, the two of them. She knew it……..but it always felt so right.



‘Bad Buffy!’



Breathing deeply to compose herself she made her way over to where Spike was sitting, convincing herself that if she could just speak to him, have a normal conversation without either of them slapping, biting, or running off, they might just be able to actually be friends. Or something. Because one thing she was sure of, she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life without him being near enough to run to if she had to. She knew she was being selfish, that she should just tell him how she felt. But he’d want more than she could give and right now, she wasn’t capable of putting up much of a fight.



“Hey.”



The muscles in Spike’s jaw moved as he clenched his teeth. Bloody buggerin’ bint wouldn’t even let him drink in peace. He looked up slowly.



“What do you want, Slayer? I’m not here for any trouble, just having a quiet drink and contemplating my navel. Don’t really want to do that thing we do where you bug me and we scream then one of us has to leave. Not tonight, yeah?”



Buffy blinked. She bugged him? The arrogant bastard….ah, the cycle was starting again. Maybe they really shouldn’t have any contact. But she knew she was better than this bickering. Plastering a smile on her face, she started again.



“Spike. I don’t want to fight either. I’m here to work, so why don’t I get you a drink, on the house?”



“Fine. Bottle of JD – full one, mind.”



Right. Snarky as usual. Buffy gritted her teeth and turned to grab the bottle. She ignored Willy’s narrowed eyes as she took the liquor and handed it over to Spike’s outstretched hand.



“Do you want a fresh glass? Some peanuts perhaps? I don’t think we carry spicy wings but I can ask Willy to get some in for you.”



Spike looked at her earnest face. There didn’t seem to be any guile in her eyes, but the Slayer was tricky. Maybe this was a really sick joke and she’d kick him in the head any minute now.



“Pet, what’s all this about? This being nice to Spike gig you’ve got going on. ‘m not complainin’ but it’s not how you usually talk to me. Just doing your job, then? Or is this the last meal of a condemned man or something? ‘Cause if it is, I’d like to order up some Slayer blood and give the wings a miss, thanks.”



“Gah! Why do I bother!” Buffy stalked off, ripping the apron from her waist and slamming the door to the back through which she’d left. Willy eyed the vampire clutching the bottle of Jack and got ready to protect his glassware, as it looked as if the bottle was getting thrown any time now.



“Hey, Spike – you alright there? Got everything you need?”



“Oh piss off, Willy! Don’t know why I’m sitting in your rank hole anyway – and your staff are all……….bitches! Tell you what, bar me – go on! You’ll be doing me a favour. Go on!”



Willy was dumbstruck with fear. The last time he’d tried to bar Spike, the vampire had left him with a black eye and a bite on the leg for his trouble before they’d agreed to disagree and Spike was assured his patronage would always be welcome. So he was reluctant to actually do what he was being asked to do right now.



Willy laughed, nervously. “You’re a funny one, Spike. You know you’ve always got a stool waiting for you here. Take another bottle, on the house. Appreciation for your past patronage.”



Spike stood quickly, the stool falling backwards as he thrust it away from him. “Bloody hell! Right then – gimme that.” He swiped the bottle out of Willy’s hands, adding it to the other one held against his chest. Buffy was just emerging from the back, cheeks pink and eyes suspiciously bright. Spike glared at her before yelling.



“Oi, Slayer! I’m gonna leave you to it, right? So you won’t have to pretend to be bothered just because I’m a customer. Catch you around, unless I’m lucky and I see you first.”



Buffy stood open-mouthed as he swirled round and stalked through the bar’s front door. The last thing she’d done was offer him free food and drink………and he’d just gone off on her, shooting his mouth off for no apparent reason. Well! She wasn’t going to let him have the last word………



For the second night in a row, Willy watched Buffy stride out into the night after Spike. What the hell was going on there? Strike that……he really didn’t want to know.



+++++++++++++++++++++



Spike pulled the cap off one bottle as he walked – well, stomped – off towards his crypt. He did contemplate going to his original destination, but right now he might just be tempted to rip off the head of any petite blondes he came across. And that would set off the chip, give him one hell of a headache, and he’d still have the problem of Buffy bloody Summers after he’d slept the headache off. No. Better he spent some alone time at his crypt and get better acquainted with the two Jacks he carried. He stopped to take a good swig out of the uncapped bottle and then he heard the dreaded footsteps. He almost bit the lip off the bottle when he found himself snarling.



No. Not happening again. He increased the pace panicking a little when the footsteps behind him did likewise. Maybe it wasn’t the Slayer. Maybe it was just somebody on their way home, going his way. Yeah. And maybe he was the tooth fairy……



Sod it. He stopped and whirled round, crossing his arms as he waited for her to catch up. Buffy’s footsteps slowed as she drew near, her steps uncertain as she took in his seriously angry countenance where he stood bathed in the glow of the streetlamp. The soft light cast shadows down that accentuated the angular beauty of his face. Her breath hitched in her throat. He was stunning – all monochrome, black and white perfection. She took a few steps nearer so that she was within the circle of the lamplight.



“Buffy, if you keep following me, people are gonna talk.”



“Well, if you quit stalking me then ducking out, I wouldn’t have to!”



“Stalking you! Me stalking you? What the …. are you on crack or something? You took a job in my soddin’ local – stands to reason I’m gonna be there because it’s MY SODDIN’ LOCAL!” Spike was standing inches away from her, a bottle of bourbon in each hand, his brow furrowed with anger. “You, Buffy, are stalking me! And after you told me you didn’t want to see me. Well, love, you might do better not seeing me if you didn’t pull pints at the one pub I’m bound to go into.”



Buffy knew he was right, which incensed her even more. Hell, if she was honest she’d taken the job so that she had every chance of seeing him again. But he couldn’t know that and he damned well wasn’t going to get her to admit anything of the sort.



“But…….but……….you knew I’d be there tonight and you still came in. I’d call that stalking!”



“Wanted a drink, Willy’s is the nearest………sod it! I’m not bloody well explaining myself to you, Slayer! It’s a demon bar, I’m a demon – end of story. Now piss off home and stop following me.”



“I wanted to talk to you about before and……….HEY! Don’t turn your back on me when I’m talking to you!” Buffy grabbed at his shoulder as he walked away, jerking his arm so that the bottle he held clattered against the wall and broke spraying them both in bourbon.



An enraged vampire snarled his anger and turned round, Buffy backing away at the venom in his eyes. Her legs started shaking until she remembered that she was the Slayer and could dust him in a heartbeat. Well, theoretically. Somehow this vampire and her killing him were unmixy in the extreme.



“Get your hands off me! And look – you owe me a bottle of JD, Slayer.”



“But you got it for nothing!”



“Yeah, but I had to put up with you and your insults to get it. You owe me. Cough up the dough.”



“Oh this is pointless. Remind me not to talk to you ever again. You make me crazy!”



Buffy turned on her heel and stalked off, leaving Spike dumbfounded and reeking of alcohol. This was too much. Twice now he’d sought solace in a nice quiet drink and been forced to leave Willy’s, and twice she’d followed him and had him boiling with rage. He made her crazy? She should be inside his skin and see how she coped with the crap she came out with. Not that that made any sense. Bugger.



Spike stretched out his neck. He was not going to let her get away with this. Face set in angry lines he pounded off after her, tossing the remaining bottle onto the grass for later collection. Buffy was walking quickly, her entire stance showing her barely restrained anger. Spike used his vampire speed to dash in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. She looked down at the floor.



“Move out of my way Spike or I swear…”



“What, Slayer? What will you do?”



“I’ll….I’ll……..just move.” Her shoulders dropped. She was tired of this, tired of fighting him and fighting her own feelings at the same time. She was exhausted with the effort of not caring about him. “Please.”



The last word was whispered. And was that a sob she stifled?



“Slayer? Are you alright?” No reply. He stepped towards her, a hesitant hand reaching for her chin and raising her eyes to see tears swimming in their hazel depths.



“Buffy? Love?” Spike’s other hand came up to cup her face and he rubbed his thumbs soothingly across her cheeks. Much as he’d wanted to kill her mere minutes ago, he knew it was only bravado manufactured by his ego. He’d no more hurt her than stake himself, and seeing her so distressed felt like he was being stabbed by a thousand knives.



“Hey now; don’t cry. You know we always do this. Doesn’t mean a thing, just us lettin’ off steam. Don’t mean to beef at you, love.”



Buffy lurched forwards and buried her head in his chest, sobbing and muttering incoherently even to his enhanced hearing. He just let her cry it out, patting her back and stroking her hair, unable to resist lifting the silken strands and inhaling her scent. After a few minutes she calmed enough to push herself slightly away, still held within his embrace but her face not resting against his sodden chest.



“I’m sorry.”



“No need. Don’t like seeing you cry, Buffy. Did I do that?”



“No, it’s not you. Well, it is, but not how you think. Gah! I don’t know, I can’t think straight when I’m around you.”



Spike smiled and laughed softly. “Yeah, love. Join the club. You do something to my synapses, make me all ga-ga.”



Buffy chuckled. They were a right pair. A perfect match.



She breathed in sharply. She couldn’t do this………could she? All thoughts disappeared as she felt Spike shift slightly, the arms that were loosely wrapped around her back tightening to bring her flush against him, one hand travelling up her spine leaving a trail of goose bumps along the surface before it wrapped loosely in her hair. She blinked rapidly, tipping her head up, knowing that she’d see the face that haunted her dreams moving ever closer as his lips sought hers. She ought to fight it, duck out of his arms and run. But she didn’t want to.



Her lips parted slightly in anticipation of the soft whisper of his kiss, her flesh tingling as she felt his cool breath and smelled the heady mix of bourbon and cigarettes laced with pure Spike. She felt herself melting further into his embrace, her own hands wrapping around him and reaching up to tug on the platinum curls that responded to her fingers’ caress by loosening and wrapping around her fingertips. She loved his hair where it reverted to his natural curls. The hand that pressed at her lower back skimmed further down, cupping the globe of her ass and pulling her groin into contact with his obvious erection. Spike swallowed the moan that escaped her mouth, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with her own as the kiss deepened. Buffy’s hands were roaming up and down his back now, sliding over the leather of his duster as she grabbed him closer. She was grinding against him, her heat seeping through her jeans and burning him where they gyrated together.



By wordless agreement, Buffy pushed Spike onto his back, straddling him where he landed, their lips never losing contact. She reached between them and untucked his shirt, eager fingers seeking out the rock hard stomach and rippling muscles that led the way up to his chest. Her hand skated across his skin, a finger brushing a nipple to hardness and eliciting a sharp hiss from him when she tugged at it between thumb and forefinger. He growled against her mouth and Buffy felt the familiar tingle of an approaching orgasm. God knows why he had this effect on her. She was fully clothed and just kissing him and she was already limp with desire.



His cool hand cupped her breast through her shirt and she arched into him, her lips leaving his eventually as she gasped for air. Her eyes were closed, even white teeth nibbling on her bottom lip as she lost herself in the ecstasy of his touch. Instinctively, she rotated her hips where she straddled him, the seam of her jeans hitting her clit on every downward thrust. Spike almost swallowed his tongue as she reached for his free hand to cup her other breast, her own hands held over his and pushing him to stroke her as she moved more quickly.



Christ! She was bringing herself off, and using him to do it. That was so hot!



Fuck! He felt himself grow ever harder with her movements and desperately tried to buck her off before he spilled his load. She was too strong, lost in the moment and intent on her goal. Spike gave in to the inevitable and crushed her breasts to the point of pleasure pain, tweaking her nipples to hardened peaks and meeting her downward movement with an upward thrust of his own. The friction of his cock against the stiff denim of his jeans was building up to an explosive ejaculation that he would rather have spent inside her but the Slayer was too far gone to stop now. With a final thrust, she arched her back, screaming his name and digging her nails into the backs of his hands where they still caressed her breasts. Spike felt the flood of moisture that accompanied her orgasm, the scent wafting up to his flared nostrils and sending him over the edge to come in his pants like a useless teenager. He grunted his pleasure, jerking spasmodically against her sensitive mound. She responded with little mewls of pleasure as the movement against her engorged clit signalled a further fluttering in her passage.



She panted, totally spent and satiated, contentment washing over her. Suddenly limp, she fell forwards to rest against him, smug smile creeping onto her face. “Mmmmmm,” she murmured against his throat. “I like that kind of fighting, Spike.”



He closed his eyes. Opened them again. No, she was still here – wasn’t a dream. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling at her neck and kissing her hair. He was scared to speak, not wanting to break the moment, but they were lying on the grass in full view of any passers-by and they had to move.



“Buffy, love. Shall we move this to my crypt? ‘s not as it was, but I got me another bed……..we could……”



There. That did it. Mention of the word bed and Buffy stiffened in his arms and pushed herself upright. What had she done? Again? She got to her feet, wobbling on legs that wouldn’t obey her. “This never happened! I told you – I can’t do this. I have to go…….I’m sorry…I….this is over….”



She raced off, leaving him lying in a wet heap on the floor, jeans soaked through at the crotch by their mingled spendings. He watched her go and smiled. Yeah…….it was over. Right.

TBC