Chapter 4.06
Thursday, May 9th, 2002

"Everything you've got is fine. Add in the bit we were talking about at the top of the second page and you've got it sussed." Spike somehow managed to combine pride and exasperation in the same tone of voice.

"But it's all hand-written. Can't I just tack it on the end? If I put it where you said I'll have to rewrite two full pages."

"You don't follow a logical progression in your argument if you just bung it in at the end. You'll probably still get marks for mentioning it, but the style's bloody awful and if it was me markin' it I'd mark you down for that. And if the bit about it being hand-written is meant to make a computer appear out of nowhere for you then, tough. And if it was typed you'd have to write a damn-sight more to fill three pages. The quicker you do it, the more chance you'll get to go along when your sister picks the films for tonight, so just get on with it.

And, Bit?"

"What?" Dawn's tone was sulky.

"You did good, love."

"Well, duh. Let's hope Miss Forman agrees with you." All traces of petulance were gone, just Dawn teasing Spike, business as usual.

Buffy stood just outside the room door for a few seconds, listening to the pair interact and wondering how he knew when to stop pushing and offer encouragement with her sister, when he always seemed to head straight in for the high speed train wreck when they disagreed.

"Can you check over mine now, Spike?" Not Mr... Whatever. No. He got to sound young and as cool as a stupid nickname like that could sound, but she was Ms. Summers. Of course, Janice had no idea what his surname was, but that wasn't the point. Buffy could almost hear Janice's eyelashes batting. Perhaps it was time for her to interrupt.

She strolled into the room, cordless phone still in her hand. "Your mom wants you back home by half past ten, so Spike and I will probably walk you back. The others will be here in an hour, so that's how long you have to finish up, if you want to see all of the films. Otherwise, you get to stay up here till he says you're finished." Buffy nodded at Spike.

"But Janice hasn't even seen my dress yet."

"So, it can't take you more than fifteen minutes to rewrite two pages. It won't take that long to show her the dress. Will and I are going to the store now. Is there anything you guys want?"

Spike pushed himself to his feet. "Just a goodbye kiss, assuming that's allowed." He strolled past Buffy out onto the landing, ducking around the side of the door out of the girls' line of sight. His hand trailed along her inner arm as he passed, the feel of his fingertips against her palm causing her to start slightly.

Dawn had a few suggestions. "Some popcorn, and you could take Spike's phone. That way you could call to check that we haven't seen the films you pick at Janice's already."

"Or not. If Xander and Anya have to take their chances, so do you."

"But you always get to pick."

"That's because I'm old enough to be a member and you're not. Deal." Buffy made a point of pulling the room door shut as she left. Strong arms captured her waist and pulled her to him. She arched her back and tilted her head around and back allowing him access to her parted lips. One of her hands reached behind her, pressing on his ass until his pelvic bones ground into her, the fingers of her other hand reached up to stroke the back of his neck, absently teasing the soft curls there. What had started as a chaste playful hug became an inferno of passion as he plundered her mouth with an intensity matched by her own.

A seemingly loud click brought her close enough to her senses to realise that somehow he had guided them into the bathroom and bolted the door between them and the hall. Her eyes widened, but she didn't resist as he shuffled them towards the connecting door to Willow's bedroom. As soon as the second bolt slid into place, his hands were on the move. One slipped up her top to cup her breast, the other rapidly undoing the fastenings on her jeans pushing impatiently at the stiff fabric until it cleared her knees. Her own hand slipped around his hip to cup his throbbing erection through his jeans before she started work on freeing him.

She struggled to turn in his arms, forcing him to move his arms out of her way before she grasped his shoulders and let herself collapse backward onto the cool tile floor, pulling him over on top of her. As soon as he felt her pull them off balance he wrapped his arms around her so that his forearms protected her neck and head from impacting on the hard floor. By the time he was sure she hadn't been hurt, her hands were already pushing his jeans out of the way, her hips pushing up against him.

She would have rolled him over and taken the dominant position but the tangle of material around her legs prevented her from straddling him. Instead she dropped her knees to either side drawing up her feet until she was exposed beneath him. She tilted her head to whisper in his ear.

"Will, remember on Sunday when I bit you. I want to do it for real."

"Not like this, love. Not with your sister and her mate listening through the door," he answered, his voice as muted as her own. He slid into her far more slowly than he had intended, not wanting to make her feel he was forcing his will on her. "Later, love, tonight at my place, in private." He could sense an impending storm and her movement beneath him had stilled. "Please, love." He waited until her mouth latched onto his, her hips shifting forcefully under him before he resumed a fierce thrusting rhythm. He didn't try to hold back his own release and his expert fingers moved between their bodies to bring her over the edge almost simultaneously, her cries muffled by his kiss.

He rolled off of her, but his eyes continued to hold hers as he mouthed the words "I love you."

Buffy eased up onto her elbows and leaned toward him, tilting her head forward so that she looked at him through the shelter of her lashes. "Me too," she whispered, her eyes dropping in instant confusion.

She started to adjust her clothing and Spike pulled his jeans back up enough to allow him to walk easily across the room, not bothering to fasten them. He pulled off a long strand of tissue, folding it into a neat wad as he returned to Buffy.

He wordlessly passed it to her and she positioned it between her legs where it would absorb the fluids that would drain from her when she stood up. He helped as much as he could with her clothing, making sure she was properly dressed before he finished adjusting his own attire. He wondered if her lack of underwear was due to her rush to get ready earlier, because of the cut of the jeans or whether it was for his benefit.

As he fastened his belt-buckle she stood on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

"I've really got to go. Will's waiting. The longer I stay the worse it looks."

He reached up placing his hand on the side of her face and running his thumb along her cheekbone. "I know, pet."

There was an awkwardness between them, like two strangers who've woken up in the same bed, who are trying to convince themselves and each other that it wasn't just a one-night stand. That their promises to call will be kept.

He stood behind her as she unbolted the door into the hall, peeking out before she left the security of the room. "I'll be waiting when you get back," he reassured her. She didn't turn but he heard her quiet response as she headed downstairs, "I know."

Somehow Spike was left with the feeling that yet again he'd done something wrong. Only this time he wasn't even sure she knew what it was.

He pulled himself together enough to quietly fill a tumbler of water, pour it from a great height into the toilet and flush before he went back into the room with the teenagers. Okay, so Bit would know it was a total farce, but her mate might think he was at least making a token effort to cover up what they were really doing. For Buffy's sake he'd pretend to pretend.

"Let's see this masterpiece of yours then, jail-bait," Spike asked as he braved the room with the teenagers.

"Catch then, Methuselah." Janice tossed the pad she'd been working from in his direction.

 The first time Dawn had introduced her friend to a seriously sorrow drowning Spike at the crowded Bronze, Janice had promptly announced that there was one guy she would break her "no dates more than two years older" rule for. And every other rule in the book. Any book.

Dawn hadn't so much lied outright to her to scare her off as taken a pinch of Dru and Spike's more exotic travels, added a major helping of typical Spike "every fibre of his being" love and finally added the heroine's tragic self-sacrificing death. Hence, broken-hearted stud moping into his beer. Since Janice had never found out about the Buffy/'Bot switch, that had been as close to the truth as Dawn had dared get.

Of course the tale merely turned Spike into an even more convincing romantic lead. Janice had spent the night asking him about his travels in Europe, Asia and South America, whilst turning on her adolescent feminine charms.

Spike managed to resist the urge to tell the pushy little bint to bugger off and instead commented that he was afraid that his loss left him inconsolable. However, if by some chance she could buy her own beer by the time he was once more ready to consider some form of emotional entanglement, it would be his delight to look her up. And that was where the age-ist nicknames had come in.

Of course Buffy's return from the dead had somewhat shortened his period of mourning, but that didn't stop Janice flirting with him even though it was patently pointless.

Spike read through the essay. He was always slightly disconcerted when her schoolwork showed signs of intelligence that indicated, if she tried, she could easily be following her sister to law school. How could she be so bloody bright and still go running round Sunnyhell after dark with kids she barely knew and nowhere to stay the night? Not to mention trying to chat up someone who looked ten years older than her? Guess brains and common sense still didn't necessarily come in the same packages, any more than they had when his mother had said the same about him.

"Looks fine to me."

 "No pearls of wisdom to add from your wealth of worldly experience?"

"Nothing that wouldn't sound offensive and far too cynical coming from a schoolgirl," he admitted.

 "Don't you know, these days schoolgirls are cynical."

"Yeah, right, and that's why you thought you were safe in the middle of nowhere with two older guys you'd barely met, and never seen in daylight when no-one had any idea where you were."

"Why do you keep bringing that up? It was months ago."

"'Cause I don't see you often enough to find out what the latest irresponsible stunt was so I have to work with what I've got."

"That was it. There have been no more irresponsible stunts, no drugs, no smoking, no more cute guys who're only interested in my young nubile body."

"Good, and next time you think about making a date with any teenage boy, who all fall into that category for at least eighty percent of the time, think about lunch ...in a nice public restaurant."

"So you're saying teenage boys are just interested in getting some, but older men are bothered about more than just sex." The look she gave Spike might even have made him blush if it had been possible.

"I'm saying in general, older men have their hormones under slightly better control and pay a bit more attention to who they're shaggin' rather than just makin' sure they're not sittin' in alone on a Friday night with their hand for company.

But where you've got an older guy who's after girls your age, it's normally because he's some sort of social inadequate and the girls his age have learnt to avoid him or some sort of sicko that likes the idea of being there first, who'll say or do whatever he has to to get in your knickers and then up and move on once he thinks you're not a challenge any more.

Just remember anything or anyone that seems too good to be true probably is.

Here endeth the lesson. Now, since Bit looks like she's finished you can bugger off and go 'ooh' at her posh frock." Spike threw the pad back to her.

"And on the off-chance you might need me for anything I'll be back in Buffy's room tryin' to get some kip."

In fact, Spike stayed in Buffy's room only long enough to get the sweatshirt so that he could make the dash to the car. He pulled his duster from the back seat where he'd left it when he and Buffy had made their initial dash for the house and checked that his phone was still in the coat pocket and charged. Then he ransacked the glove compartment until he found his money hidden at the back. Stuffing the wad in his jeans pocket, he smoked a cigarette and made a phone call from the relative privacy of the car before going back in the house. Now all he could do was wait and hope.

 Half an hour later Spike was pacing the front hall when his attention was caught by the metallic scrape of the knob turning, followed by a meaty thump as flesh met the unyielding door. Apparently, Buffy had taken to heart his comments about locking up. He glanced toward the door and was amused to see Xander's distorted and flustered face through the thick glass panes.

Serves the git right for assuming he can just walk in whenever he pleases Spike thought as he moved to open the door. As soon as it was open, pandemonium broke out. Anya was trying to push Xander's bulky frame through the doorway, or maybe she was trying to get past him. Xander stalled mid-greeting when he realised he didn't recognise the deeply cowled person in front of him, dropping the A3 sketch pad he'd been carrying and taking a blocking position in the doorway whilst trying to push Anya safely behind his back.

"Let us in. There's somebody following us," Anya's voice was high pitched with fear.

"Hey. Back. You are in so much trouble you do not realise,"

The carpenter scrabbled in his coat pocket.

"Xander. Move. It's turning into the drive."

"What the bloody hell am I meant to have done now?

Xander's hands did something behind his back, and Spike saw a bright glow flash across his eyes.

'Shit, He's really goin' to kill me this time and buggered if I know why.' The vampire fell into an automatic fighting stance.

"Ahn, stay back- Spike?"

"Who were you expecting, Santa bloomin' Claus?"

At this point Anya seemed to decide the best way through the doorway was between her husband's legs.

A heavy booted tread became audible from behind her as she scrambled through on hands and knees, crawling over the pages that had come loose from Xander's pad. Her husband meanwhile tried to step back to allow her to stand up and craned his neck to see the large figure coming up behind him since he was unable to actually turn around.

Spike didn't so much see the man who came up behind Xander as become aware of how much sunlight he was blocking out.

"Don't let him in. He followed us from Main Street, turn for turn." Anya's outburst coincided with the first words from the stranger.

"Katharine's florist shop. C.O.D. delivery for Buffy Summers?"

"Yeah, m'ere, mate. Pass the bill and I'll sort out your money if you start bringin' the stuff in," Spike replied.

Doing his best to ignore Xander and Anya and the crushed papers on the floor the delivery driver passed a clipboard through a gap at the side of the doorframe to Spike. As he walked back to open up the side door of the large van now blocking Spike's car into the driveway, Xander visibly sagged against the doorframe and Anya got to her feet dusting off her skirt.

"Hi, Spike," she gasped breathlessly.

"Hi, kitten. Why don't you go grab a seat in the living room while I sort this out? There's beer in the fridge if you feel the need for a pick-me-up after your little surprise, assumin' Bit and the witches didn't drink it all while we were in LA."

Spike surreptitiously took a few bills from the envelope in his back pocket and added them to some from his duster, clipping them into the clipboard and closing it. It took the driver four trips to bring in the various baskets, planters and vases that were dropped off in the hall along with an enormous box of continental chocolates and a bottle of champagne.

Xander managed to spin out picking up his pad and straightening up the loose sheets long enough to still be in the hall when the driver was ready to leave. The deliveryman seemed to do a mental tally, tying in the items on the floor to those on the bill.

"Right, that seems to be everything, and even if it wasn't the van's empty. We've billed you up front like you said for the next couple of months on your regular delivery, so you won't have to come in for a while, but Katie says to stick your head in if you're passing anyway. Said she might even rustle up some cocoa if you're lucky."

"I'll see what I can do, but things might be a bit hectic. Tell the missus thanks for puttin' everythin' together at short notice like she has. She's a life-saver. Sorry if it kept you from getting' home."

The driver just gave him a nod and raised the clipboard in a wave as he left. Spike closed the door after him, making sure it was locked again before he threw back the hood on his sweatshirt. All the while he waited for Xander to make some sort of smart-ass comment. He wasn't disappointed.

"So, I'm guessing the new-look didn't exactly meet with Buffy's approval. Must be a pretty big argument to need that much patching up. Or maybe she found out about whatever skeazy coffin-bait is getting your "regular order"?"

Anger flared red-hot in Spike's eyes and he almost swung a punch at his adversary before he remembered he was using the orbs. No point bruising his knuckles on the git. "Care to put your foot in it a bit more before your thimble sized brain remembers that Bit's mate's upstairs with her." It was only in the most distant reaches of his subconscious that Spike was aware of the sounds of the front door opening. "You don't know me. You probably never will. Don't presume to judge the motivation behind anything I do, because all you're ever going to do is keep showing over and over how small-minded you really are." Spike stormed upstairs grabbing his duster as he went.

"Thanks for setting him off, Xander. Now I get to sleep in a room that smells of cigarettes." Buffy started to follow Spike upstairs, but Xander grabbed her arm and she found herself unable to get away.

"Buff, he's cheating on you. The guy has a regular order set up with the florists and I'm betting you're not the girl on the receiving end."

Buffy stopped struggling. Her arm was going to bruise and she wasn't going to get free, but that didn't mean she was beat. She didn't rant like Spike, in fact her voice if anything was quieter than normal, but there was a cold harshness to it that Xander had never been on the receiving end of. "Tell me something that's news, and try getting your mind out of the gutter." She gave her arm a sharp jerk, pulling free at last due to Xander's surprise, and followed Spike upstairs. Xander looked across at Willow as she pushed the front door shut with her butt. His eyes clearly saying, "What am I meant to have done now?"