Part Four

"You." Thud. "Won't." Thud. "Beat." Thud. "Me." Thud.

Spike's head smashed against the cinderblock wall repeatedly. He grabbed the hands that were firmly embedded in his hair and yanked them away, black spots appearing on the edges of his field of vision.

Turning to face the owner of the small, powerful hands, he picked the Slayer up and tossed her across the room, feeling no remorse at all at the action. She crashed into a table, splintering the legs with the force of her fall.

Buffy sat, dazed, in the pile of table bits, before shaking her head and scrambling to her feet. She came at Spike again, this time with a rubber practice broadsword. She tossed him its match, then swung the blade at him, and he parried, jabbing with his own weapon at her midsection.

Thrust. Jab. Kick.

Finally, she knocked his sword away and cornered him. Growling softly, she murmured, "Any last words?

"I'd like to thank my mum and dad for havin' me, and my sires for siring me, and� you for taking me into your home. But most importantly, I'd like to thank the Academy�" He jabbed his fingers at her ribs and began to tickle her.

"Spike! Stop that!" She was giggling loudly now. "Spi-ike! Eep! I� can't� breathe�"

"Sorry, luv." He immediately pulled his hands away from her sides, looking positively sheepish.

She immediately attacked him with her own hands. "Ha-ha! Fooled you!"

When it started to hurt, and he was writhing on the floor under her torture, she let up. "Let's go, we're both stinky."

~*~*~*~*~

Spike walked into the bathroom and undressed, leaving the door open a crack to ventilate the steam that would build up quickly. He looked down, examing his body for wounds and finding none serious enough to fret, so he turned on the water and stepped into the shower. Buffy's face appeared unbidden in his mind, her mouth opened slightly as she panted for breath. The imagery grew stronger, and he saw himself kissing her passionately within the course of a few moments, his hands roving her petite form.

In the shower, his cock grew painfully hard. He trailed one hand down his side, encircling the base with his thumb and middle finger. His eyes, which had been staring sightlessly at the shower wall, fluttered closed as he pulled his hand upwards. He brushed the slick head of his cock with the pad of his thumb, then squeezing slightly as he drew his hand back down the shaft. He imagined entering her tight body slowly, adding his fingers one by one until his fist was wrapped around himself, then pulled up again. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. In. Out. His hips began thrusting slightly into his hand as he fantasized about writhing nude with the blonde woman who'd been, in truth, haunting his thoughts since before he and Dru had gotten to Brazil.

"Buffy..." he groaned softly, jerking and shuddering in his climax. He rinsed the cum from his hand and abdomen, then scrubbed himself quickly. He turned off the water and stepped out of the stall, not realizing that Buffy was in the bathroom brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed. She gasped, dropping her toothbrush in the sink when she saw him step from the shower, dripping wet and completely nude. Her face reddened and she rushed out of the room.

He laughed softly to himself as he dried his body, the look on her face as she realized his nudity becoming ingrained on his memory. He wrapped the slightly damp towel about his hips, swaggering out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Then his eyes widened. She must've heard me. She was in the bathroom brushing her teeth when I got out of the shower. This. Was. Not. Good.

Not good not good not good�

He closed the door to his bedroom and padded barefoot across the carpet, shedding his towel as he went toward the bed. He opened the curtains to allow the white glow of the moon into the room, then got into the bed and pulled the sheets over his nude form.

Sometime around midnight, he heard a loud thump from the direction of Buffy's room. He leapt from the bed and raced down the hall, knocking on the door. "Pet? Are you alright?" he asked hoarsely. When she didn't reply, he opened the door and turned on the light. He stood in the doorway, chest heaving. Only when she looked at him in shock did he realize that he was naked.

"I� er� came to see if you were okay. I heard a noise." He swallowed, willing himself to remain flaccid. When he felt the beginnings of arousal spinning through his abdomen, he turned to go. "Right. Since you're okay, I'll just go� go."

Bugger. She's seen me naked twice in a matter of hours, and both times she's looked completely and utterly shocked. Can't be that bad, can I? he thought as he returned to his room. He flipped on his own light and walked over to the mirror, assessing himsef.

No potbelly, he thought as his eyes flitted over his chiseled abs. Not balding. He checked his hairline thoroughly. Not too small� He examined his crotch. Too big? Nah. If he remembered correctly, Angelus wasn't much smaller. Turning around, I checked his rear. Still firm. No weird growths, either. I don't have any scars that should make someone look shocked� Suddenly, his thoughts trailed off and his eyes widened. He'd forgotten one thing: the tattoo he'd gotten after a few months of not hearing from Drusilla. Located on his right pec, it displayed a small, red heart into which the outline of a tiny wooden stake had been carefully etched. That must be it, he decided, realizing that he'd better explain himself to her. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers, putting them on quickly, before returning to Buffy's bedroom.

He heard soft sniffling from behind her door and knocked softly before entering. "Luv? Let me explain about the tattoo."

"You have a tattoo?"

Oh, bugger.

"Yeah. It� it's on my right pec? Erm� I thought you saw it."

"No. I saw� you."

"Why are you crying, luv?" He moved toward the bed and sat on the edge of it.

"I'm a freak."

"What?"

"You heard me." She rolled over to face him, her cheeks streaked with tears. "I'm a freak. I'm abnormal."

He cocked her head, looking at her. "What do you mean?"

"All the men�" (sniff) "�that I've ever wanted�" (sniff) "have been somewhat�"

"Not quite average?" he finished for her.

"Yeah. My first real boyfriend goes psycho as soon as I sleep with him, tries to kill all my friends and family, and I end up killing him. Right when I meet a nice, normal guy, said boyfriend comes back from hell, only to leave again after I kill the mayor at my graduation. My second boyfriend is drugged-up on steroids and part of a demon hunting club. Everyone knows I'm the demon hunter around here. He leaves. Then my mortal enemy shows up at my door, alive and immortal." She looked at him pointedly. "If your love life had that record, you'd probably be crying too."

"You're not a freak. You're not abnormal. You're perfect and beautiful and I� you want me?"

"Yeah. I guess I do." She smiled, wiping her eyes on the sheets.

"You want me. How long?"

"Since I met you."

"You've been lusting after me for that long, and you never said anything to me about it? And here I thought I was the only one."

"I never said anything because we were supposed to hate each other. You were an evil vampire. And, for all intents and purposes, my mortal enemy."

"I'm not any longer, luv." He was staring at her mouth, fascinated with the way her lips moved as she spoke. "Well, it seems we have two factors in this. You want me, and I want you. What do you suggest we do about this?"

"For starters, you can stop staring at my mouth and kiss me."

~*~*~*~*~

He pulled away from her searching mouth slowly. "Baby�"

"Don't stop."

"I want to take things slow. And considering our near-nudity here, that might be hard." He sat up.

She touched his chest softly. He nearly weeped.

"That's touching. Get out." She was angry. She pointed at the door and waited for me to leave.

Idiot, he mentally berated himself when the door shut softly behind him with a click. You had the one thing you've wanted in years, and you
had to go and get a bloody conscience.

He walked back to his bedroom for the third time that night and locked the door behind him.

He fell out of bed the next morning, put on a green polo shirt and dark blue jeans, and gelled his hair, then walked down the stairs to fix a pot fo coffee. More precisely, coffee that would keep him awake for three days. Unfortunately, he had no clue how to work the coffee maker, so he munched on coffee beans instead. He then rinsed the taste out of his mouth with orange juice.

The aromas of eggs and bacon frying soon drew the Summers sisters down the stairs.

"Mmm. Smells yummy."

"What are you doing, Spike?"

"Thank you niblet. And I'm cooking breakfast, Slayer, if you don't mind."

"Right. Lemme at it. I'm starved."

He put servings of the eggs and bacon on each plate, along with two slices of toast. Then he poured each of them a glass of juice and sat down at the table to eat.

"This is delicious," Dawn mumbled around a strip of bacon. "We haven't had any real breakfast in a really long time. Ever since�" She took a gulp of juice and silenced.

"To be honest, I really didn't remember how to cook. I had to use a cookbook to make this."

"Really?" The brunette snorted, sticking a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

"And your coffee maker is bloody complicated." He grinned. "After a few minutes of trying to figure it out, I just ate some coffee beans."

"That's kinda� gross. It's not that complicated." Buffy walked over to the coffee maker, motioning for me to follow. "You put the ground-up beans in here with a fresh filter�" she explained, doing it as she spoke, "� and then you just dump a pot of water in the back here, put the pot on the burner, and turn it on."

"What's on the agenda today, ladies?"

"It's Saturday."

"And?"

"Shopping," the sisters chorused. Oh, great. Surround-sound Summers.

"And you're coming with us." Buffy grinned evilly at me. "We're gonna need someone to hold our bags."

"Oh, no. No. You can't get me to go with you. I don't think so�"

"If you don't go with us today, William, you'll be finding a new place to live tonight."

"Well, when you put it that way�"

Twenty minutes later they were out the door.

~*~*~*~*~

"What do you think of these, Spike?" Buffy turned slowly, displaying the low-rise, silver, vinyl pants she was currently wearing. "I'm going Bronzing tonight."

He could only gulp and nod. She looked incredible. She pulled a coral-colored scrap of fabric labeled 'halter top' off the rack and held it up to her chest. He imagined what it would-and wouldn't cover. Again, he nodded.

"Now I need shoes."

She grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip and dragged him along behind her. "Ooh!" she squealed, her eyes settling on a pair of black shoes with silver stars on the toes. "These are the ones."

After they paid for her new outfit with his credit card, she turned to him and said, "Now it's your turn."

"What?"

"You're coming to the Bronze tonight, too."

"Just no nancyboy clothes, okay, luv?"

"You got it. One not gay looking sexy outfit, please," she asked an invisible attendant as they walked into the next store, a men's fashion outlet. "I think tonight calls for a more Mr. Evil Dead look."

She rummaged through the trousers and found a pair of black leather pants. They had a red slash down one thigh from the hip, and the red wrapped around them down the calf and to the outer ankle. These she tossed over his arm.

"What makes you think I'll wear these, luv?"

"If there's even a shred of the old Spike left in you, I think you'd be more than happy to live longer� I mean wear these." She stuck her tongue out at him and proceeded to the shirts. He followed along behind like a bleedin' puppy.... She immediately found the shirt she wanted. It was black silk, long-sleeved, with buttons at the cuffs and down the front. The collar, he noticed, had tiny silver spots on it that would shimmer in the flashing lights of the club.

She put him in the changing room with the clothes and called, "Hurry up. You need new shoes, too."

As he changed into the clothing, a more high-tech version of his old wardrobe, he called back, "What's wrong with my boots?"

He finished buttoning the shirt and stepped out of the changing room, smirking when he noticed that the cashier was ogling him unabashedly.

"Besides the fact that they've been around longer than I have, and they're ratty and scuffy� nothing. Turn. Give the cashier another eyeful."

"Ratty and scuffy, eh? That gives them character." Spike turned slowly, purposely flexing his ass when he was faced away from the cashier. "Do you approve?"

"We're buying. Put your other clothes on again." She shoved him back into the changing stall and he heard her rummaging through something on a rack nearby.

As he changed, he realized how ratty my boots really were. Maybe a new pair of Doc Martens wouldn't be so bad. He could work at the Magic Box with them.

With the new clothes once again over his arm, he walked out of the stall and pulled out his wallet. He almost blanched when the cashier told me that two new articles of clothing would cost me well over five hundred dollars, but managed to keep his face straight. His credit card felt like it was melting. They walked into a shoe store and bought a pair of Doc Martens - shoes, not boots - before picking Dawn up at the GAP.

"Buffy, can I go to the Bronze with you tonight?"

"I thought you had a date."

Spike's scarred eyebrow rose. "So, niblet, you have a date, eh? Who is he? Do I have to kill him?"

"Spi-ike! You promised you wouldn't embarrass my dates anymore. You may be old enough to be my great-great-great-add a few more greats in there-grandfather, but you're not my dad. Jeez," she huffed.

"His name is Tyler and he's a senior at Sunnydale High. He's got brown hair and brown eyes and according to Dawnie here, he's cu-ute. He's 5'8" and he plays soccer."

"Football, huh? I can deal with a man who plays football."

"And Spike?"

"What is it, niblet?"

"Tonight, you're my older brother, Will."

"Do you have to use that name? It's�" ...what my mother used to call me.

"Normal?" Buffy supplied.

"Yeah." Liar! Spike's conscience protested.

"God forbid that Spike-former vampire and current immortal, who used to be the scourge of Europe's lackey-could be normal." She giggled at him.

"Funny, luv." He scowled at her. "Let's go get some lunch. I have an itch for a chocolate milkshake."

~*~*~*~*~

That night, Spike and Buffy walked into the Bronze, where music was blaring. Their elevated hearing allowed them to take in the murmurs of the other patrons as they walked by.

Who are they? They're so hot� I think they're movie stars or something. I saw those pants in a catalog for $300. Look at them�

The blonde couple took a seat in a corner after ordering drinks. Spike got a bourbon and Buffy ordered a daiquiri. They sat on the soft couch and sipped their drinks in silence for a moment. Then a familiar drumbeat filled the room.

Don't forget to smile over me
I know it's been awhile since I let you breathe

Spike stood and extended his hand. They walked silently onto the dance floor, which was packed with swaying couples. He pulled her into his arms and she rested her head against his chest. Flowers. Her hair smelled like flowers.

Maybe someday I'll find that one thing
That makes me feel like I wanna feel�

It felt so good� so right� to be holding her like this. She fit perfectly in his arms. He could feel her strength and her softness all mixed into one perfect package. She lifted her head and turned it so that her forehead touched the side of his neck, then sighed, her warm breath tickling the skin at his open collar. He wondered if she could feel the rightness of the moment.

I wish that I could crawl�
I'm standin' with my face against the wall�
I believe that it's not sinkin' in
I believe� but how could you forget it�

Suddenly he felt her stiffen. He rubbed her back gently with his palm, the skin silky and smooth. Willing her to calm down again, he pulled her closer, if that was possible. She leaned back into his embrace and snuggled up against him, and he propped his chin against the crown of her skull.

Maybe someday I'll find that one thing
That makes me feel like I wanna feel�

They swayed around in a circle and Spike suddenly saw what had made her tense up so suddenly. There, in a dark corner of the Bronze, stood Angel. He was watching them closely. Spike's eyes widened momentarily, and he bristled as the dark-haired vampire approached them.

"Angel," Buffy breathed. Spike could see unmasked hurt in her eyes, and a hint of confusion, and he wanted to rip his lungs out for making her feel this way.

"Buffy, Spike. This is an interesting development. Spike, mind telling me what you're doing here with a tan?"

Spike's was itching to ask him why he was back, but that was a question that he reserved for Buffy. Instead, he snarked, "It's that self-tan lotion. You should try it. It does wonders for a vamp's complexion."

Buffy stifled a giggle. "Spike is human. Or, if you will, human with remarkable healing powers. He's a male version of me." She paused, frowning. "Why are you here?"

"I went to Spike's apartment the other day because I hadn't heard from him in awhile, and I came to warn you that he was missing and probably after you, but since you already� found each other, I guess I can go back to LA." The dark-haired vampire shrugged and turned to go.

"Angel� wait. You can't go. It's almost morning. Come back to my house. We can fix up a room for you that's sunproof." Spike wanted to throttle her. What the bloody hell was she doing inviting Angel, his former Sire, and her former love, to her home? For all they knew, he had lost his soul again and had come back to finish it.

"Thank you, Buffy."

Bloody pillock,, Spike thought to himself. Bargin' in where he's not wanted.

The three warriors turned and walked out of the Bronze. Buffy and Spike led the way, while Angel flanked them. An' keep your eyes off my Slayer's sweet arse, Spike inwardly grumbled. Mine too.

"So, Spike?"

"What is it, Peaches?"

"What did you do to your head?"

~*~*~*~*~

They walked into the Summers' house and proceeded to the living room� where Dawn was sitting on the couch sucking face with her date.

"A-HEM." Spike cleared his throat loudly. The teens scrambled away from each other, moving to opposite sides of the couch. He smirked.

"B-Buffy! You're home early. I didn't expect you home until at least� what's he doing here?" She glared at Angel.

That's my girl.

"Angel is visiting. He hadn't heard from� erm� Will and I� for awhile, and he wanted to check up on us." She turned to the teenaged boy, who had stood when the three adults had entered, and was now nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "And you must be Tyler."

"Uh� yes, ma'am."

"Please. Call me Buffy. I'm not that much older than you. I'm only a senior in college."

Dawn interjected. "Tyler, this is my older sister Buffy and my older brothers, Will and Liam."

He stepped forward to shake their hands. Spike tried my best to look intimidating, no easy feat considering the height similarity. At least he was dressed better than him. He gripped the teen's hand and squeezed slightly, testing his own stubbornness. "Nice to meet you, Tyler." Wonder
what he'll do when he realizes that Angel's hands feel like a corpse?

"Likewise."

Angel extended his hand. His looming figure clad in black seemed to shy Tyler a bit, but not much. "It's good to be able to meet the guy our little Dawnie is dating. She grew up so fast�" The poof was embarrassing the poor chit.

"Nice to meet you, Liam. Man, you have cold hands."

"Well you know what they say� 'cold hands, warm heart.'"

Spike smiled, adding under my breath, "Or in your case, 'cold hands, dead heart.'"

"What do you do, Tyler?"

"Do?" He was obviously still somewhat nervous.

"Yeah. You know, do. I'm a musician�" Spike siad, lying through his teeth, "� and Liam 'ere is a bodyguard."

"I work at the Hungry Bucket on Fifth. Other than that� I play soccer." He was warming to the conversation.

"What do you think of Man U?"

"They're the greatest, though right now I'm focussing more on college teams. I'm trying for a scholarship." He checked his watch. "You know, it's getting late� I'd better be going." He walked toward the door. "G'nite, Dawn. It was an� interesting� night."

She stood and walked him to the door, then exited with him. The door closed behind them, and after about three to five minutes, the adults in the house heard a car engine start. Moments later, Dawn walked in the door and sighed. Then she glared at Angel again. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what? Oh, you mean the embarrassing older brother thing? I don't know� I was just getting into it. You know how it is�" he shrugged sheepishly.

"AARRGGHHH!" She threw up her hands and stormed up the stairs.

The three of them stood there momentarily, tense in the new silence. Angel spoke first. "Buffy? The room?"

She looked up as if coming out of a daze. "What? Oh, right. The couch pulls out if you take off the cushions." She walked over to the couch and pulled said cushions off, laying them to the side. She then unfolded the couch and left the room to get some sheets and a blanket.

Spike stood stiffly with my hands in my pockets as Angel walked over to the side table and fingered a photo frame of Buffy and Dawn. It was a recent photo. They had gotten them taken for their mother's birthday. She had died before they could give the photograph to her.

"It's hurting her, isn't it?" He looked over at Spike with those tortured eyes of his.

"What is, Peaches?"

"Me being here. And yet she still invited me to stay with her."

Stupid poofter. "Yeah, it is. She still loves you, mate. I-" I'm jealous. Spike looked away, fingering the top of the red slash on his trousers. "I don't think anything will ever stop her from loving you."

"Spike, I..." he began, unsure of himself. "I need to know something." Suddenly his feet became the most interesting thing in the world to him. "Spike, before I got the soul, I... I remember how horrible I was to you. And I know I hurt you then. All I need to know is if you ever forgave me."

Spike tried to puff out my chest with some semblance of I'm-the-Big-Bad-I-Don't-Get-Hurt, but it didn't work. His shoulders slumped just a bit as he admitted, "Yes, you did hurt me, Peaches. But what did you expect? You were my Sire, mate. Not something a bloke gets over quickly."

"I'm so sorry Spike," he said remorsefully. "I wish there were some way I..." he cut off as Buffy walked into the room, her arms laden with bedding.

"Don't worry about it, ya big poof. I forgive you. It's in the not so recent past anyway." He turned to look at Buffy, watching her complete the domestic scene as she made up the couch for Angel.

Angel must've caught the longing in his former Childe's gaze, because he cleared his throat before whispering, "Happened to you, too, huh?" He nodded in the direction of the woman who had quickly become the center of Spike's universe.

"Guess it happened a long time ago. When I realized I couldn't kill her. Then again, she never could kill me either." He smiled, memories flooding his mind.

Buffy had finished making up the couch so it was sleepable at this point. She made a show of stretching and yawning broadly before saying, "Well, I guess I'm going to hit the hay. Bronzing takes a lot out of me."

She turned and left the room, leaving Spike in another slightly uncomfortable silence with my former grand-sire. "I... erm..."

"Goodnight, Spike."

The former vampire left the room, walking upstairs, where a bed and very pleasant dreams of cavorting with a blonde Slayer awaited him.

~*~*~*~*~

The next night, after Angel had left for LA, Buffy came up behind Spike and asked softly, "You have a history with Angel, don't you?"

"He half sired me, pet. Does tend to give a little history." He smirked, plopping down on the front steps of the house. She sat daintily next to him.

"That's not what I meant. You and he had a history."

He chuckled. "And maybe, luv, I'll tell you about it when you're older."

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