Seven - First Steps

"Man, that Priscilla chick sounds like a total bitch," Faith called from the bathroom, where she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup for that evening.

"Drusilla," Buffy corrected. "And yeah, she's all holier-than-thou. It's really weird seeing Spike with someone that dominating.

"Bet you'd like to dominate him, B..." The brunette said slyly, emerging from the bathroom.

"What? I... no, of course not!"

Faith raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I've seen the guy on ESPN, hon. He's a hottie. If I didn't have Wesley... Let's just say I'd show up at his doorstep and beg him to let me ride him at a gallop until he popped like warm champagne."

"Hello to the imagery," Buffy said. "Very nice."

"You're picturing yourself doing it, aintcha?" Faith teased.

"Yeah," she admitted. "The look on his face when he..."

"You've done him?!" Faith was taken aback. "How was he?"

"It was three years ago," Buffy replied. "And we were both pretty drunk that night. I left before he woke up."

"Yeah, but how was he?"

"I don't remember much, but..." she hedged.

Faith folded her arms across her chest. "Stop avoiding the question. You screwed the hottest guy in professional sports. Let me live vicariously."

"He was the best I've had," Buffy finally said. "Ever."

"That's quite the admission. So why are you in Los Angeles instead of kicking the Ice Queen's ass?"

"Because he loves her and not me," she replied. "I screwed things up the first time, I know, and now I might not get another chance with him."

"B, you're depressing me," Faith said. "Let's go clubbing."

~*~*~*~*~

"My Spike..." Drusilla called quietly, poking his naked shoulder. "Wake up, Mummy needs to speak with you..."

He grumbled and rolled over onto his side, his eyelids fluttering. "Go 'way," he slurred tiredly.

"Wake up," the brunette said again, more sharply this time.

"What is it?" he asked, reaching up with his left hand and blearily rubbing his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I don't think this is working for me anymore," she said. "When you could move your legs, you were so much more fun."

His eyes popped open. "What are you sayin', pet?"

"I've met someone," she replied. "I can't be with you anymore."

His mouth dropped open in shock, his eyes becoming steely and ice-cold. "Get out," he said quietly.

"I was hoping that we could have a little fun... you know, one last time?"

"Get. Out."

She uncurled her naked form and slipped from beneath the sheets, plucking her clothing off the floor and stepping into it. "So sad," she purred wickedly. "You could've had me one last time. But I guess now you can run off to your little Buffy and have her lick your - "

"You don't talk about Buffy," he said harshly. "Get the bloody 'ell out of my house."

She slipped into her shoes. "Goodbye, my Spike," she said.

"I'm not your anything, you bint. Get out." He pointed toward the door. "Now."

She slipped through the door and closed it softly.

"Graaaah!" he screamed, picking up an empty water glass and pitching it at the door. It shattered upon impact.

He rolled back onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling.

~*~*~*~*~

The throbbing beat of a dance remixed pop song surrounded Buffy and Faith as they entered the club. Hundreds of gyrating bodies were packed onto the dance floor.

"Let's dance!" Faith called over the cacophony of the club.

"I need a drink first," Buffy replied, heading for the bar.

Three shots later, she was ready to bust a move. She and Faith pushed their way toward the center of the dance floor, immediately attracting attention. Buffy's miniskirt threatened to ride up every time she moved her hips, and Faith's halter top wasn't providing much coverage. Strong male hands trailed down the blonde's sides, and she attempted to turn to face him. He halted her movements and she shrugged, then continued rotating her hips suggestively. Her arms raised above her head, moving behind her and wrapping about his neck.

"Damn, B!" Faith shouted. "Way to reel in the hot-tay!"

Buffy flashed a brilliant smile, continuing to dance with the stranger. His hips ground into her ass as he pressed his chest tightly against her back. One of his hands pressed against her stomach, firmly travelling downward, and the other cupped her hip.

She leaned back into him, but he stepped away and she stumbled. "Whoa," she said, finding her balance. "That was..."

"Riley Finn," Faith finished.

"No way," Buffy said, her eyes widening at the thought of dancing with the television star.

"He's right over there," the brunette replied, pointing in the direction of the bar.

Buffy looked over and saw him dancing with another female patron, much in the manner that he'd danced with her. "I think I need another drink," she said. "Want something? I'm buying."

"Yeah," Faith replied.

~*~*~*~*~

"Where is she?" Spike asked testily, rolling back and forth in the hallway in the wheelchair. "I'm not payin' 'er to take m'cars out an' not come back."

The front door opened and closed. "Where were you?" Spike demanded, entering the foyer.

Buffy winced at the volume of his voice. "Not so loud," she pleaded. "Hangover."

"You drove my vintage Mustang with a hangover?! Sorry," he said, noticing her cringe once more. He softened his tone slightly. "But that was bloody stupid, Buffy. You could've at least called, or stayed somewhere until you felt better."

"I'm sorry," she half-whined. "But Faith and I went to a club, and then she brought a guy home, and the sound of them going at it kept me awake half the night. And then she didn't have any painkillers for the next morning. I just wanted to get your car home and crawl into bed, and not come out until next year."

He rolled his eyes. "If you damaged my car..." he threatened.

"It's fine," she said, wincing again when she emphasized 'fine'. "It's back in the garage, all gassed up."

"I'm sorry I shouted," he said. "I was just wor - "

"Where's Drusilla?" Buffy asked suddenly.

Spike gritted his teeth. "Dru an' I are no longer together," he ground out.

"Oh," Buffy replied. "I'm sorry. I know you loved her."

"Yeah..." he trailed off. "Well, off you go. 'M expectin' a session later this afternoon."

"Only if you have Tylenol," she said. "I'm gonna need it."

~*~*~*~*~

The parallel bars creaked slightly as Spike rested his weight on them. "I feel like a soddin' gymnast," he grumbled. His pecs and biceps rippled beneath his sweat-soaked skin as he shifted slightly.

"You're doing great," Buffy said encouragingly. "You've been up for almost a minute now. Need to rest yet?"

"What I need," he replied, "is to walk again." The muscles of his thigh contracted and he lifted his foot slightly, then shifted it forward and rested it back onto the floor. His eyes widened. "Cor..."

"You walked," Buffy gasped. "That's great!"

He attempted the same movement with his other leg, and soon he was standing close to a foot away from where he'd been standing previously. "I can walk," he said, grinning hugely at her.

Buffy smiled back, shuffling backward and glancing up at him. His eyes were focussed on her face. His left hand gripped the bar tighter, and he slowly shifted his weight to his left arm, then reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "Thank you," he whispered.

The sexual tension in the room was nearly palpable, and Buffy attempted to alleviate it. "Told you I could get you to walk again," she said. "How about we get you back onto your bed so I can give you a rubdown."

He nodded. She hurried over to the nightstand, plucking a dry towel from it and then returning to Spike. She patted his skin dry, then wrapped her arms around his back. Their combined efforts soon had him on his stomach in the middle of his bed, waiting for his massage. Buffy grabbed the bottom hem of his nylon shorts and tugged them off him, and he flipped onto his stomach while she tossed the sweaty garment in his clothes hamper.

The lotion bottle protested loudly as Buffy squirted the last few drops into her palm. "Dammit," she groaned. "I'm all out of the unscented kind."

"What else do you have?" Spike asked.

"The only other lotion I have is peach-scented," she replied.

"There is no way that I'm gonna traipse around smellin' like an orchard in Georgia," he protested.

"Guess I'll have to make a little go a long way then," she said, wiping most of the lotion onto the back of his neck.

He cringed. "Oi! That's cold!" he complained.

"Baby," she teased. "It'll warm up." She took a tiny bit of lotion and rubbed it into his shoulders, then began to massage. "You're getting all muscley," she commented.

"Mmm," he grunted. "Dru didn't like that, 's I recall."

What is she, stupid? Buffy thought. "That's too bad," she said.

"So you 'ad fun last night, I'm guessin'?"

"Yeah..." she replied. "Went clubbing. Danced with Riley Finn. Got drunk."

"Riley Finn? As in the poofter in that daytime soap, what's it called...?"

"Blue Horizons, yeah," Buffy said.

Spike scoffed. "You don't fancy the bloke, do you? 'E couldn't act 'is way out of a wet paper bag."

"But he's a great dancer," she said slightly dreamily. She shook out of her reverie. "No, I don't 'fancy him'," she said in a horrible rendition of his accent. "We just danced."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure..."

A knowing smile spread on her face. "You're jealous," she realized aloud.

"What? No," he denied quickly. "Why would I be jealous?"

"I don't know... why would you?" Buffy slid her moist hands down his spine.

"Luv, 'snot polite to answer a question with a question..." he trailed off and groaned as her capable fingers worked at a small knot that had formed on his lower back the previous day, due to lack of massage.

One of her fingertips dipped into the lotion that still coated his neck, and she worked it into the tender spot carefully. "Maybe you're not," she replied. "Maybe this thing with Drusilla is still too fresh, and you're still..."

"She didn't love me," he interjected. "I was the hot new athlete, so she used me and discarded me like all the others. I knew what I was gettin' into when I started seein' 'er."

"Oh," Buffy said softly. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he murmured. "Never loved 'er either. She was just convenient, y'know?"

Sarcasm laced her tone. "Well gee, Mister Broad, that sure makes you look like a great person." Her fingers slid lower, manipulating his buttocks and upper thighs slowly.

He turned his head, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "She was a replacement... for someone I couldn't 'ave."

~*~*~*~*~

A low-pitched, dull thump awakened Buffy. She blinked a few times, and when a creaking sound filtered through her closed door, she rolled out of bed, pulling on a pair of soft, loose-fitting cotton drawstring pants and padded barefoot out into the hallway. The creaking came to her again, obviously emanating from Spike's room. She tugged on the hem of her light green camisole, then opened the door a crack. "Spike?" she asked, peering in. Her eyes widened when she saw him standing, nude, between the parallel bars, nearly three and a half feet from his wheelchair.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

"Playin' soccer," he replid sarcastically, lifting his right foot and shifting it forward.

She quirked an eyebrow. "Naked?"

"Yeah, well... I was considerin' becomin' a nudist. Not much sense wearin' pants if I never go anywhere." He grinned at her, then stepped forward with his left foot.

Buffy ducked beneath one of the bars, coming up between them and facing him. "Think you can stand without the bars?"

"I'll try anythin' once," he said, shifting his weight on his feet and then slowly releasing the bars. His knees locked and, though he swayed a bit at first, he stood fairly steadily.

Buffy's gaze locked on his pecs, and Spike noticed. He reached out with his left hand, tucking a finger beneath her chin, then lifting it. His eyes were on hers as his mouth inched toward hers. He moved slowly enough to allow her to pull away if she wished, but there seemed to be a magnetic pull between their lips, because Buffy found her own mouth gravitating toward his as well. Wrapping one arm about her hips, he pulled her close, and his lips descended onto hers. Their eyelids fluttered closed as they kissed softly, both of them tasting a hint of the fire that lay just beneath the gentle contact of mouth to mouth.

Author's Note: Hmm. Golly, what could possibly happen next in this here story? Only I know. Well, me, and possibly everyone in the Spuffy Archives chat. But whatever. Next installment should happen as soon as real life stops mopping the floor with my ass. But enough Mopey!Magz. Kella, I finally put your nudist line into the story. Aintcha happy? As far as the bondage goes, I'm not quite sure how I'm gonna work that into the storyline, but I'm sure I'll figure it out. I also have the last scene of one of the last chapters finished, although I still don't know how I'm going to get to it. Yes I do, I'm lying. I did the diligent author thing and wrote an outline.

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R to NC-17