Buffy glanced anxiously at the door again then back to her watch. She’d been on edge for the past half hour, not even knowing if she did or didn’t want him to come in. She’d hardly slept a wink last night, playing over and over again in her head the fight then the heated make-out session. She blushed, the memory of her wanton behaviour – and out in the open too! – both horrifying and tantalising in equal measure. The door banged open and her head shot up. It wasn’t him. She was disappointed.



‘God Buffy! Contrary much? Don’t want to see Spike, then you jump his bones and wait for him like he’s your date or something?’



She was aware she was acting crazy, but like she’d told him – he made her that way. She nodded at Willy when he waved her through to the back for supplies, returning a few minutes later with a keg of beer and couple of bottles of O-neg that she put up on the optics. She shivered, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Slowly, she turned round, her heart pounding.



Nervously licking her lips she moved towards where he sat, eyes naked with emotion and fixed on her hungrily. She smoothed down her apron, wiping her hands before resting them on the bar counter. What to say…..she really didn’t know. Seemed like Spike was similarly tongue-tied, because he just fidgeted with a paper napkin, shredding it between nervous fingers to become soggy confetti. Wordlessly, Buffy grabbed a glass and filled it with bourbon, pushing it towards him. Spike took it, raised it to toast her, and drained it, still silent.



Buffy busied herself wiping down the bar counter, tidying the bottles… basically doing anything but start a conversation between them. The tension between them was palpable and drawing nervous glances from Willy and the anxious demons lining the bar. Something had to give. She took up her place again directly in front of Spike and placed her hands flat against the wooden bar top.



Spike pushed the double chocolate chip muffin with his index finger to sit squarely between her splayed fingers. He grinned to himself; she wouldn’t be able to resist, the girl was such a chocolate whore.



“What’s this?” Buffy tilted her head in perfect imitation of his.



“What’s it look like, love? ‘s a muffin.”



“Uh huh, I can see that with my Buffy eyes…..why?”



Spike snagged the bottle of JD, suddenly nervous at the poncey gesture. “You’re too thin. Need feeding up, can’t fight the nasties if you’re fainting from hunger now, can you? I never see you eat, and I doubt you’ll like the grub here. Most of it’s still movin’.”



Buffy felt a hot flush suffuse her neck and throat. He’d brought food for her? And chocolate? He knew she loved chocolate. Of course he did; it was a way to get into her pants. Like he needed to give her a bribe……..But his face was so devoid of guile, his eyes so full of his feelings for her that, deny their existence as she may, she couldn’t ignore them. A clump of ice deep inside of her aching heart melted.



Shyly, she inched her fingers towards the muffin that was so much more than chocolatey goodness. It lay between them, a symbol of something that she couldn’t risk thinking about. She felt the moist bun yield beneath her fingers, digging into the sweet pastry and picking off a chocolate chip. She raised fluttering eyes to meet his, startled by their icy blue intensity, her chocolate covered fingers pausing on their way to her mouth. On a whim, she changed direction and proffered up the sticky prize to Spike’s parted lips. His eyes never left hers, the blue deepening to stormy grey as he flicked his tongue out, wrapping around her finger and the nugget of chocolate and sucking them into his mouth. Buffy’s own lips parted in a gasp of pleasure, the bar and the assortment of demons disappearing as she focused entirely on the heady sensation of his tongue and mouth suckling at her sensitive digit. Her legs shook with the effort to remain upright, breathing ragged and shallow as she closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the rasp of his tongue against her flesh. She jumped when he nipped at her finger.



“Hey!”



Spike grinned, head tilted and eyes sparkling with mirth. “Sorry, love. Got a bit ……carried away….” He quirked his scarred eyebrow and poked his tongue between his teeth. Buffy couldn’t help but laugh.



This was nice. This easy chatter between them. After last night, she couldn’t really pretend she felt nothing for him. Even if it was only blinding lust. But she was scared that it was more than that. She moved off to serve some customers, eyes swivelling to watch Spike as he steadily made headway with the bottle of Jack Daniels while keeping an eye on her treat. He wasn’t drinking angrily tonight. He looked relaxed, happy almost. She thought back to the last time he’d sat and chatted with her over a glass of bourbon. That night in his crypt when she’d wandered in, not knowing where else to go to find somebody who would understand her. And he did. Understand her. He was the only one. Even now when her friends and sister knew she’d been ripped from heaven, they didn’t know how that affected her. She was dealing better with it, but every morning when she opened her eyes, she mourned what she’d lost. Hid it from them to spare them. And the only one she could really be herself with was Spike.



Silently willing her customers to go away, she quickly filled their drink orders and sped away from the counter before it could fill up again. She almost cried when she reached Spike’s stool – he was gone! She craned her neck, trying to find him, pouting when she couldn’t see him anywhere. The cool breath on the back of her neck startled her. “Lookin’ for someone, pet?”



Buffy spun round, finding herself backed up against the counter, Spike’s arms braced on either side of her. His lips were tantalisingly close, moist from the tongue that flicked along them. She stared as he caught his full lower lip between his teeth, aching to taste him but unable to move, frozen by the years of indoctrination in the ‘all vampires are evil’ school of thought. Spike watched her eyes, noting the struggle. Almost. He almost had her.



Slow, don’t wanna hurt the girl………….



He dipped his head, kissing her softly, a brief whisper of lips that was gone before she knew it. Buffy blinked, feeling the whoosh of air as he whipped away from her. She cursed her indecision.



Spike was sitting by the bar again filling his glass. He smiled as she turned back to him, throat and cheeks flushed, heart going pitter patter. It had killed him to draw back from her, especially with the scent of her wafting up his nostrils, but he was playing this game by different rules. The demon had tried to win the girl and failed; now it was the poet’s turn.



Buffy swallowed, mouth working soundlessly as she fought to make some sense of the thoughts whizzing around in her head. Her dilemma was solved when Willy hollered at her to quit goofing around with the customers and go clear some tables. As she scampered off she caught Spike’s chuckle of amusement – and frowned when the urge she got was to kiss him senseless instead of the usual one to stick a sharp wooden stick deep into his chest.



Buffy worked hard, clearing, washing down tables, collecting and delivering drinks. She was doing well for tips too, although half of the money was magical and would disappear before the morning. Fool’s gold. All the while she worked, she could feel the heat of his blue eyes following her every move. It felt good, somebody watching her back. Each time she returned to the bar for a drink order he managed to touch her, just briefly, a brush of his fingers across her arm, gently lifting her hair to tuck it behind her ear, the whisper of his fingers stroking her cheek. Seriously in danger of passing out from sensory overload, Buffy could do nothing but look at him through huge eyes, incapable of putting into words what she was feeling. The final time she came back for drinks, Spike eyed the clock and spoke softly. “What time d’you get off, love? I’ll walk you home, yeah? Don’t want any big bad getting a nibble of you. Maybe we could take a trip through the cemetery on the way, deplete the sorry vampire population some more?”



Buffy chuckled. Last night she’d been pissed at him for trying to save her from a demon making friendly with her butt; tonight he wanted to make sure she got home safe. Funny; tonight she wasn’t pissed at him at all, found herself nodding and saying she’d like that. Was looking forward to it in fact.



Amazing what a night spent tossing and turning and craving a cool, hard body would do to a girl.



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




The two blondes left a bewildered bar owner staring after them when they wandered out into the night. He’d been open-mouthed when Buffy stashed her apron and turned to put her arms into the coat Spike held up for her, thanking him in a little girl voice. He was astounded when the Slayer linked her arm through Spike’s, chattering and smiling at him as they left side by side. Willy reached for the half-full bottle of bourbon on the counter and downed a healthy swig, hand shaking the bottle against his teeth. Whatever was going on, he was terrified….



The linked arms became hand-holding a little further along the path, Buffy so giddy and happy that she couldn’t care less who saw her. The fact that the Scoobies were all wrapped up in their own lives and wouldn’t be venturing anywhere near where she was did flash across her mind when she first decided to go with her instincts…..Spike didn’t care about anything. All that he knew was that he was walking through Sunnydale holding hands with the woman he loved – no, adored – and she wasn’t slinking off with him into the shadows, was laughing and giggling with him for anyone to see.



They met a couple of vamps who stupidly decided that they were tasty morsels, but other than that, the night was uneventful until they found themselves standing in front of Spike’s crypt, both of them shuffling nervously as the silence stretched between them. Buffy eyed her feet, scuffing her toes on the stone step. The low rumble of Spike’s voice sent shivers down her spine and she found it very difficult to answer in the negative.



“Fancy a nightcap pet? Got some of that juice you like…”



“No…..I..I don’t think so, Spike. Not tonight. Dawn’s expecting me. I’d better get home.”



Disappointed, but not letting it show, Spike smiled at her. Dare he risk it? He leaned in to her, cupping her cheeks and raising her head so that he looked into her eyes. “Alright. But you be careful, yeah? Don’t go getting bitten……..except by me.”



The kiss was urgent yet not intrusive, his tongue swirling across her lips and sliding inside as she gasped against his mouth, eagerly sucking his tongue inside and nibbling lightly. Her hips moved forward to meet his, her hands coming to rest on his butt as she ground against him. Fast. This was all moving too fast………..



Gasping, Buffy moved back and away from him, panting for breath.



“Sorry……I’m…….I shouldn’t have…..Spike……I’m…..I have to go……”



Spike wanted to stop her, wanted to sweep her up in his arms and kick down the door, throw her to the floor and fuck her senseless. But he’d done that already. He wanted more now. He could wait.



Buffy turned to run but was stopped by his hand on her arm.



“Be careful, Buffy. And I’ll see you tomorrow……….”



God, she hoped so. With leaden legs, she stumbled away from him, fighting the urge to run back with every step she took.



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



Every night she waited for him anxiously, her hands polishing glasses over and over until she sensed his approach and quickly checked her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. By the time his butt hit the stool she already had a full glass of bourbon waiting for him, her smile filling his vision as she greeted him.



“Hey. You’re late tonight. Thought you weren’t coming.”



“Love, I’ve been here every night for the past five weeks. An’ I’m not late…….well not much. Gotta wait for the sun to set before I can toddle, Buffy, and I did have to take a detour.”



“Why, what happened. You didn’t get into any trouble did you?” Buffy’s eyes flitted over him checking for signs of battle.



“Well, caught a nasty scratch off these buggers.”



A dozen white roses appeared on the counter tied with a simple white satin ribbon. He pushed them towards her.



“For me? Spike, you shouldn’t have!” She was delighted, grabbing the bouquet and searching about for something to put water in. They ended up in an ice bucket, proudly displayed on the back shelf. Spring in her step, she set about her duties, returning frequently to primp the flowers and make sure Spike’s glass was full. He almost burst with happiness when her hand lingered as she passed the glass over to him, her fingers tightening around his hand. He smiled, head bowed over his drink. Spike couldn’t remember ever feeling this contented. Buffy had started to spend a few hours in his crypt with him after their nightly patrol and it was a completely different relationship they had now. She was relaxed and happy in his company, content to sit and rib him gently about ‘Passions’ and his obsession with Monty Python films. He gave back as good as he got, ridiculing her interest in makeover shows and the way she’d sob at the weepy movies. It was a standing joke between them that he’d cried first while watching ‘Love Story’ – although he’d deny it until he was dust!



The poet was puffed up with pride and pleasure, embracing every courtly gesture, every soft and gentle touch of lips or hands. And Buffy was happy. He could see her filling out, her rosy cheeks replacing the pallor of recent months and the shadows disappearing from beneath her eyes. He’d done that. Spike. William. She laughed more than frowned now, and he was proud beyond telling. He’d earwigged on a Scooby meeting a couple of days ago. They hadn’t noticed him hanging around and were talking freely, chiefly about how perky Buffy seemed these days.



“Yeah, I was worried about her at first, working at Willy’s – but it really seems to agree with her. She’s smiling all the time now, singing in the shower. What do you think Dawnie? She’s eating more too, isn’t she?”



“She is. She even ate that concoction you made the other night. Honestly, Xander – it was so gross!”



“What? It was ………experimental cooking. I followed the recipe……….”



“What in? The Cookbook from Hell? Bleaaargh!”



“You should have sent for the man, Wills. A man’s job is to eat what the woman cooks. And stop with the glare – you cook, I swallow.” Xander grinned at his oldest friend. Buffy’s mood was infectious, partly due to the resulting lessening of guilt at having dragged her from heaven. All of the Scoobies were happy these days. Him too. Mostly. Until he realised what he’d lost when he’d left his beautiful girl all decked out in white and nowhere to go. “So the Buffster’s all keyed up? Haven’t seen much of her…….but then I’ve been doing the wallowing in self-pity thing. Good to know somebody’s happy.”



Rolling his eyes, Spike had wandered off then, incapable of listening to another ‘poor me’ rant from the sorry sod who’d left Anya at the altar. But at least he knew that Buffy wasn’t putting on an act for him. He’d grinned all the way home through the sewers.



And now she was proudly showing off her flowers to her co-workers and shooting him shy glances when she thought he wasn’t looking.



Heaven. He must be in heaven.



Buffy eagerly threw her apron underneath the counter and grabbed her roses, sailing out and cheerily shouting ‘night’ to Willy. He’d gotten over his initial shock at the increasing friendliness between the Slayer and the biggest, baddest vampire in town and was now capitalising on their relationship by quietly advertising by word of mouth. Sooner or later he figured there was going to be a meltdown, was counting on it, in fact. Business was up 30% on the strength of the impending doom. And to think he didn’t want to give her the job……..



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



A nest of vamps was dusted quickly, Buffy stashing her flowers safely before slaying with a passion missing from her fights since she’d returned from heaven. Spike watched her, on alert to give her a hand but not needing to do so, delighting in the fluid movements and her obvious enjoyment in her calling. She was a vision, whirling in the moonlight, hair loose and wildly tangled and surrounded by the cascading dust of ex-vampires.



Unable to stop himself, Spike rushed towards her, grabbing her up and spinning her round, his arms around her wrapped around her back and his head buried between her breasts. He inhaled her scent, cock hardening instantly. Buffy laughed, head back, completely at ease with the world for the first time in ages, arms outstretched to the sky as she enjoyed the moment.



They both became aware of the change in mood as she slid down his body, his hands caressing her back, her shoulders, before fisting in her hair. They were breathing into each other’s mouths – one breathing out of necessity, one from habit. Buffy’s pulse was racing; she’d felt this moment building and was incapable of stopping her body’s response.



More importantly, she didn’t want to.



Spike whispered against her lips. “You comin’ in, pet?”



Buffy nodded, boy was she! Spike stifled a surprised yelp when she kicked open the door and pushed him through the opening to land in a heap on the floor. His body reacted, remembering the last time she’d been astride him. Delicious pressure built at his groin, his cock straining to be let free of the restrictive denim. Eagerly, he reached for her, groaning when she jumped up and wandered over to the refrigerator leaving him lying desperate and unfulfilled on the cold stone floor. He watched her warily, unsure what was going on and expecting her to zoom out of the front door any minute.




“You got any juice? All that’s in here is beer and you know how un-mixy I am with alcohol. Oh, never mind – found one. Come sit with me?”



Spike slowly drew himself up off the floor, puzzled and increasingly amused by her actions. Buffy was seated in front of the tv, back resting against his easy chair, and flicking through the channels. Wordlessly, he walked towards her, taking the proffered bottle of beer and the tv remote and settling into his seat. Buffy leaned back against him, his legs apart with her in the middle, hair cascading across his lap.



“Stroke my hair, Spike. I love it when you stroke my hair.”



This was new. He’d stroked her hair, sure – but never by request, more him seeing how far he could go before she freaked. But she liked it? He’d never, ever stop…



Buffy sighed; she was dog-tired but Spike’s fingers were doing delicious things to her scalp, her neck, her body in general. She shivered….



“Cold, love?” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her, and in that instant, Buffy’s world shrank to the two of them, the moment, the feeling of his cool arms surrounding her and keeping her safe. She put down the juice and turned in his arms, kneeling up so that her face was level with his.



“No, Spike. I’m not cold, far from it. Kiss me.”



Slowly, Spike narrowed the distance between them, softly brushing her lips with his, tongue ghosting over the sensitive flesh as his hands cupped her face reverently. He closed his eyes, willing her to feel his love, to know deep in her gut that what he felt was real. Buffy’s fingers caressed the back of his neck pulling him deeper into the kiss as she felt the final barrier erected by years of propaganda melting away. It might be true of other vampires, the whole “evil, will kill you as soon as look at you” label – but this vampire was unique. And he was truly hers.



As she was his.



There; she’d admitted it to herself. If she could just admit it to him they had a good chance of making it work……