Title: Blue Eyed Devil

Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me

Feedback: Yes, please.

Rating: Will differ from chapter to chapter, but it will go up to NC-17

Summary: AU. (Here I go again) Spike is an up and coming rock star. His band is called "Blue Eyed Devil". Buffy is a pre-school teacher, who meets him one night in a club where his band is singing. AN: Since I can't write music, and music is going to be a major theme in this story, I'll be using other songs that I like. Unless it's noted that the song belongs to someone else, I need you to suspend a little belief and pretend it's a Blue Eyed Devil song. I'm sure none of you will have any problem imagining "him" singing a love song...to whoever.

Part One... "Are you busy tonight?" Buffy glanced up at her best friend and employer. Willow was standing in the doorway to her classroom, clutching a piece of poster board that looked like she'd stolen if off the side of a building. She finished dumping the last of the wooden blocks into their bins, then sat back on her heels and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "I'm just finishing up some of my early evaluation reports and maybe working on next weeks lesson plan a little more. Why?" With an impish smile, Willow turned the poster board around and gave Buffy a look at it. Buffy looked, then shrugged. "Blue Eyed Devil? Who's he?" Willow sighed. "Honestly, Buff...do you ever turn on the radio or the television? I know you own one of each." Climbing to her feet, Buffy pushed the block box off into a corner, then turned around, smoothing down her skirt. "Look...I'm not up for one of your "let's drag Buffy into the modern world, kicking and screaming" talks. I don't know who he is...so just tell me." "It's not a "he", Willow explained, placing the poster down on Buffy's desk. "It's a band. A really...really...hot band. Their first single went platinum almost overnight, and they've just signed a zillion dollar contract for three albums..." Buffy straightened the books on the reading shelf. "So...why do I need to know all this?" "Because," Willow exclaimed. "They're gonna be playing here to- night! In a couple of weeks, they're kicking off this mega city tour, but they'll be here at Union Jacks tonight!" "At who?" "Union Jacks," Willow repeated. "That new club down by the pier. It just opened a couple of days ago." Buffy scraped a crayon mark off one of her books with her thumb- nail. "How come...a big band like that is playing in a little club here in Sunnydale?" "I heard that the owner of the club is Spike Devlin's uncle and he..." "Hold it," Buffy said, holding up one hand. "Who...is Spike Devlin?" "Oh for..." Willow shook her head in disgust at Buffy's ignorance. "He's the front man...the lead singer...plays lead guitar...and he's related to the man who owns the club...so they're playing here as a favor to him. You know...to get the place off to a good start." Buffy nodded. "And I take it that you want to go and see them? And drag me along for the ride." Willow grinned. "You got it, best friend." "But I've really got a lot to do tonight, Wils and I..." "Best friend here!" Willow cut her off. "Who gave you your first teaching job at her school...over more experienced applicants." Sighing, Buffy rolled her eyes. Willow was never...ever...gonna let her forget that little piece of information. She had indeed passed over three other teachers with years of experience behind them, and hired her instead...fresh out of school herself. Buffy knew she was trapped. Willow owned the school, and while she wouldn't use that as a weapon, Buffy didn't want to make waves with her boss. "All right...I'll go with you," she agreed. "I'll hear Blue Eyed what's-his- name sing and play, and...whatever. But you..." "Great!" Willow said happily, cutting Buffy off mid-sentence. "I'll meet you there at 7:00. We can have dinner first. My treat." Gathering up her purse and her jacket, Buffy grabbed her leather satchel as well. She stuffed her unfinished evaluation reports and her lesson plans in it. Maybe she could get a little work done before the band started breaking her eardrums. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They were seated at a side table with a fairly good view of the stage. After ordering hamburgers and milk shakes, they sat and talked about their plans for the school year. Willow filled Buffy in on some of the background of her fellow teachers, and Buffy countered with stories about some of her own class mates who were now working in the public school system. The bands instruments were all set up on stage, ready to go. Buffy counted five guitars, an elaborate keyboard set up, and a drum kit that looked like it could shake the walls to kindling. Their meals arrived, and they had just begun to eat when Willow's cell phone chirped loudly. She grabbed the tiny phone and went out into the main entry way to talk, and when she came back to the table, Buffy could tell it wasn't good news. "I've gotta go," she said, gathering her things together. "That was the cleaning service. A pipe burst in Marian's class- room and they don't know how to turn off the water." Buffy wiped her mouth with a napkin and started to stand, but Willow waved her back down. "You stay...it's nowhere near your room, and there's no reason for you to miss the band. Um...I'll see you tomorrow...and if you can get me an autograph...I'd.. I gotta go..." Sitting back down, Buffy considered leaving as well. But, she was hungry and didn't have much at home, since she hadn't bothered to go to the market. Besides, Willow had looked so upset and all....maybe she COULD get her the autograph she'd asked for. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Once her stomach was full, she pushed the plate away and grabbed her satchel. Spreading out the evaluation papers, she began to write on them, quickly becoming so engrossed that she wasn't really too aware of what was going on around her. She heard the band being introduced and the burst of loud applause that followed. Music began to play, but she didn't bother looking up....until a voice spoke almost directly into her ear. "S'cuse me, luv....are we bothering you with all that loud music we're playing?" Buffy finally raised her head and found herself looking at what had to be the 'Blue Eyed Devil' himself. Oh, boy....were his eyes blue! Like aquamarine gems...or maybe blue topaz...and they were framed by long, dark lashes that a girl would envy. He was leaning on her table, smiling down at her like a wolf who'd just stumbled over a particularly vulnerable looking lamb. A little over average height, he was dressed in a pair of skin tight jeans, a black t-shirt, and a red button down shirt on top of that, loosely tucked into his pants. He wore a pair of scuffed black boots, worn down at the heel, and around his neck hung a silver Celtic cross. Buffy's cheeks turned bright pink. "I...I beg your pardon?" she asked nervously. "I asked you if we were disturbing you with our music, darling," he repeated. The people sitting at the tables around them giggled and whispered amongst themselves as they watched this little drama. The band was still playing their instruments, but softly, wanting to hear what was being said. "Why are you asking me that?" she hissed, wiping suddenly sweaty palms on her skirt. "Am I offending you in some way?" "As a matter of fact, luv," he said, nodding. "I'm sort of used to people actually paying attention to the show. Makes me feel all warm and cozy inside." "I can hear you," she answered smartly. "Am I required to sit and stare at you as well?" The people around them all went "oohhh" at the same time, as though they were expecting a knock-down drag out fight to start. But the man bothering her looked delighted. "Sassy little thing, aren't you? What are you doing?" he asked, gesturing at her papers. "I don't see how that concerns you," she answered huffily. He laughed and made a grab for her lesson planner. Buffy grabbed the other end of it, and there was a brief tug-of-war between them. "Let go!" she demanded, slapping at his hand. "Ouch!" he said, pretending to be grievously wounded. "Come on...let me see." He yanked the book out of her hand and flipped it open. "Lesson plans....are you a teacher?" he asked, handing the book back to her. He leaned his elbows on the table and cupped his cheek in his palm. "That's fantastic," he murmured in a silky tone of voice. "You wouldn't believe the fantasies I've had about teachers, luv. Not as pretty as you...but close." Buffy's cheeks flamed scarlet again as her eyes darted nervously around. "Will you just get back up on the stage and...and do what you're supposed to be doing?" she whispered hotly. "Depends," he said, eyeing her up and down. "Will you promise to listen? I'll sing a song for you, if you do." At this point, she would have agreed to do almost anything in order to get him to go away. Her embarrassment was reaching horrifying proportions, and she was afraid that she might start to cry. This reaction was a holdover from her adolescence that she just couldn't seem to shake, even at the age of twenty-five. "Fine," she said irritably. "I'll listen." He leaned closer, until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. "Will you watch, too?" The other people in the club were getting restless. Apparently they were tired of watching this particular show and wanted to get back to the one they had come to see. She sensed a few dirty looks being aimed in her direction, but her tormentor obviously cared nothing about keeping the rest of his audience happy. "Yes," she snapped. "I'll watch, too. Now...shoo!" She waved him away, pointing at the stage. "Thanks, luv," he said, making a kiss at her. He turned and went back to the stage, jumping up on it in one leap. The bass player, a nice looking boy with reddish blond hair, gave him a look. "Thought you were never coming back. Not that I blame you...she's something else." Spike Devlin clipped his guitar strap back around his neck and stared straight at Buffy. "Down, boy," he said, audible to everyone in the club. "I saw her first."

Part two... Buffy's cheeks were still hot with embarrassment as the band began to play. She could feel people's eyes on her, and she'd never wanted to cut and run so badly in her life. But she could also feel HIS eyes on her, challenging her to keep her promise, and so she stayed glued to her chair. She was damned if she was gonna let this, no doubt second rate singer, chase her off like a frightened rabbit. Summoning up all her nerve, she raised her eyes and looked directly at him, ignoring the stares directed her way by the rest of the audience....and found him looking right back at her. "When she walks in the room every eye in the place turns to follow her every move..." Okay....so he wasn't a second rate singer. "She's arrived on the scene, in her diamonds and jeans. World class....she's got nothing to prove.." Actually...he was fairly talented. "It takes a long time to know her She gives it up a little at a time.." No....he was amazingly talented. "She's getting what she wants She's a popular girl Setting those hearts on fire Everybody wants to be part of her world She's a...popular girl Such a....popular girl." Oh, god....he was probably one of the best singers she'd ever heard. No wonder his first single had jumped to the top of the charts. As she watched him, she had to admit that it wasn't just the voice that he had going for him. His fingers were deft and agile as they coaxed the melody from his guitar. His hips swayed very slightly, in a suggestive manner that was all too obvious. He didn't seem to be able to stand still for very long. He prowled around the stage, making brief eye contact with a few of the female members of his audience. But every time he looked away from them, he returned his gaze to Buffy. Unexpectedly, as if he was trying to catch her in the act of not paying him the attention she'd promised. As if she could look away! "She walks down the street Knocks 'em dead on their feet With a casual nonchalance." She'd been too unnerved before to pay much attention to his looks, but now that there was a little distance between them, she could see exactly why all the girls in the club were eyeing him like a potential meal. He had white blond hair...it had to be bleached, no way it could be natural with the darkness of his lashes and eye- brows...and although he'd slicked it back, it was resisting his efforts to tame it and was showing it's natural curls. His face was almost pretty. He had beautifully sculpted cheek- bones, with a high arch to them, and a strong jaw. His complexion was on the fair side, which only added to the intense piercing quality of those blue, blue eyes of his. His left eyebrow sported a scar that looked like it had always been there...like it was supposed to be there. "When she's breaking your heart She's the state-of-the-art With license to take what she wants." But his mouth was a real work of art. Soft and sensual looking, it begged to be kissed. And she could almost taste..... "It takes a hard man to hold her.." She gasped when she heard him sing that line, staring right at her and pushing his hips forward in a thrusting motion that definitely left no need for guess work as to what he was implying. "She likes to get a little out of line." Buffy clasped her hands together on the table top, squeezing her fingers until her circulation was in danger of shutting down. "She's getting what she wants, she's a popular girl Setting those hearts on fire Everybody wants to be part of her world She's a..popular girl Such a...popular girl." She swallowed hard. How much longer was this song going to last? More importantly, how much longer was she going to be able to sit still for this? "She stands by the window, the world is her stage Each smile is her mirror, in the passing parade Passing parade." Grabbing the glass of water the waiter had set on the table earlier, she drank it down in four gulps. "And in the end, all she'll be is your friend Though passion's your lone desire.." She sat back and folded her arms across her chest, feeling oddly exposed as he stared at her. His next move, though, totally unraveled her. Her mouth dropped open as he dropped to his knees at the very edge of the stage closest to her, leaning his body back slightly, his guitar held on his upper thighs. "She's the one you can't touch You want her so much You're burning...your heart's on fire.." On fire. Apt lyrics indeed. She was actually beginning to feel more than a little overheated herself. "It takes a hard man to hold her The challenge is forever on my mind.." Buffy wiped her damp hands on her napkin, then shredded it into tiny bits of confetti in her lap. Would this song NEVER end? "She's getting what she wants She's a popular girl Setting my heart on fire Everybody wants to be part of her world She's a...popular girl Such a....popular girl.." Her eyes became wide and round. He had changed the lyric! Had stared right at her and changed the lyric of the song! People were looking at her again as the band played the closing notes of the song. Looking at her...and whispering. Okay....enough was enough. She began packing her belongings back up, shoving the evaluation forms into her satchel without considering that they were made of paper and would be hopelessly wadded up and crinkled. Grabbing her purse, she jumped to her feet and headed towards the exit. She walked swiftly, eyes glued to the door, not even registering it when someone in the audience muttered "Oh, not again!" Buffy didn't stop until she was forced to by someone behind her placing a hand on her shoulder. Ducking away, she whipped around and saw that Devlin had once again left the stage and was chasing after her. Half the audience looked intrigued and amused, the other half...not so much. Afraid that they were going to start some kind of riot, she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him away from her. "Quit following me!" she snapped. Completely unrepentant, he smiled. "Give me your name and your phone number, and I will." Trapped, Buffy's eyes darted about and fastened on the ladies room door. "I'm just going to the bathroom," she said, projecting a look of sincerity blended with urgent need. "Get back up there and...do what you were doing and...and I'll write it down for you when I get back." He hesitated, then backed away a little. "All right, then." Safely locked in the bathroom, she waited until she heard the band begin to play and then bolted out the door, running to her car like a bat out of hell. As though the devil himself was on her heels....(The lyrics in chapter 2, Popular Girl, are from Survivor's Vital Signs)

Part three..... After a long night filled with disturbing dreams punctuated by a few moments of restless sleep, Buffy had to drag herself out of bed. It wasn't until she'd had two cups of black, highly sweetened coffee and a shower that she began to think she might be able to screw her head on straight and go to work. Her morning was hectic and loud. The children from Marian Banner's class room had been parceled out amongst the other teachers until the plumbing could be fixed and the carpet relaid. This meant that Buffy had five more 4 year olds to deal with. She made it through the morning on a caffeine and sugar energy burst, and she only stopped to think about her experience the night before a half a dozen times or so. Fortunately, her attention had to focus on her children, which saved her from a lot of useless imaginings. Although he had haunted her last night in her dreams, Buffy had no illusions about the reality of the situation. She was quite certain that she'd been nothing more to him than an interesting diversion, probably prompted by her initial ignoring of his stage presence, and a challenge to his ego. To a person like him, it wasn't enough to have most of the girls in the audience bowled over...he needed to have them all in the same condition. During the morning rest period, she snuck into the kitchen and drank a bottle of Coke, hoping to boost herself up with more caffeine and sugar. It seemed to work, because she got through the rest of the class time until lunch without collapsing into a tired heap. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "So...how was the band last night?" Buffy shrugged as she filled her basket with supplies from the storage closet. Construction paper, glue sticks, buttons, pipe cleaners and Popsicle sticks weighed her arm down...ingredients for an art project she was planning for the afternoon session. "They were all right," she murmured absently, silently berating herself for telling such an outrageous lie. "All right?" Willow asked, disbelief making her voice squeak. "That's the best you can say...they were all right?" Buffy cleared her throat. "They were...good. Competent musicians...pleasant voices." "Well, which songs did they sing?" Willow pressed. Glad that she was facing in the other direction, Buffy allowed herself a brief memory of a silky, sensual voice and of pene- trating blue eyes fixed on her like a laser beam as he sang words that made the heat rise in her body..."She's setting my heart on fire...." "I don't really remember," she said, swallowing hard. Willow was silent for a long moment, and Buffy could almost feel her friends eyes burning into her, trying to gauge the level of truth in her voice. "Well, what about the guys themselves?" she asked. "Were they hot?" "No!" Buffy said, a shade too loudly. "They were just...just ordinary looking guys. Nothing special." She closed the door to the storage closet, hoping to avoid whatever lighting bolt God was about to pop her with for telling so many lies. "Oh, come on." The disbelief in Willow's voice ratcheted up about three degrees. "I've seen them on TV," she added, "They are majorly sexy...especially Spike Dev...." Buffy cut her off before she could finish the name. "I suppose they were, if you like that type!" she snapped. "But they just don't appeal to me." Another lie. She was actually afraid to step outside at this point. If not a lightning bolt, then surely an anvil would come crashing down from the sky and squash her flat. "Okay, okay," Willow said placatingly, holding up her hands as though she were being robbed at gunpoint. "I get the message. Miss Summers doesn't like rock and roll singers." She smiled, and Buffy knew what was coming next. "She prefers tall, blond loan officers." As hard as she tried, Buffy couldn't even muster up a small smile acknowledging Willow's teasing comment. Her best friend and employer was referring to Riley Finn, the officer at the bank that had approved Willow's small business start up loan. Riley had brought some paperwork to the school a few months ago, and Willow had introduced him to Buffy, hoping to prod her into wanting more satisfaction out of life than she got from teaching preschool. He was very nice, and there was no doubt he was good looking. Tall and built more like a athlete than a bank officer, Riley Finn had sandy blond hair, friendly gray eyes, and an open, guileless face. Riley was what he was. There was no hidden mystery to him, no secrets to explore. What you saw...was what you got. No more, no less. She had accepted his invitation to lunch that day, and had been out with him a few times since then. But, much to Willow's dismay, she couldn't seem to work up more than a casual liking for him. Even when he kissed her, although she tried to leave herself open for the bells and skyrockets that romance novels rhapsodized about, she never really lost herself in his kiss. Never wanted to drown in his eyes. Never wanted to lie in his arms and listen to him sing to her...sing softly...only to her.... Oh, no. She wasn't going there again. THAT was a dream. A silly, unattainable dream that had crept into her innocent sleep, uninvited. Buffy tried to change the subject. "What did the plumber say?" "Oh, it was just a faulty pipe. He replaced it and checked out everything else, said it all looks good." Willow wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. "The carpet in Marian's room will be back down by the end of the day, so...all's well." "Good," Buffy murmured, pushing open the door to her class room. Willow said nothing for a moment, and Buffy was afraid that her friend was once again gathering her forces to continue her "Buffy could love Riley if she just gave herself half a chance" lecture. But all Willow did was ask if she could supervise the noon play period outside. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There were twelve children in her class, and she adored every single one of them. From the time she'd been a child herself, Buffy had wanted to be a teacher. She had spent most of her playtime conducting pretend classes with her dolls and stuffed animals lined up in a neat row as she explained the mysteries of 2+2=4. As she grew to adulthood, she discovered that she had a special affinity for very young children. They were so full of wonder and joy, so eager to learn and so willing to love and be loved. Her little ones were old enough to truly learn what she was teaching them, but not too old to climb up on her lap for a hug, or to have an 'ouchie' kissed after it was treated with antiseptic and a band aid. They loved nothing more than to come and take Miss Buffy's hand and lead her out onto the playground to take part in whatever imaginary flights of fancy they were participating in. And Miss Buffy loved nothing more than to be taken along for the ride. She climbed the monkey bars, swung along on the swing sets, teetered as they tottered, and crawled on her hands and knees into the playhouses. She dressed and undressed dolls, built Lego skyscrapers, molded clay into recognizable shapes, and blatantly crayoned outside the lines of coloring books. When she took her class on a mini field trip to the little farm Willow had set up in the field behind the school, they followed her in a row, like ducklings. They tossed grain to the chickens, cuddled the bunnies, and laughed when she purposely allowed the tiny pygmy goat to lower his miniature horns and bump into her backside. And they asked questions. Endless questions about everything under the sun. Why was this like that, and why was that like this? Where did the sun go at night? Why did the moon change colors as it rose? Do flowers feel it when they're picked? How did the cinnamon and sugar stick to the graham crackers, and why was there no butter in the peanut butter? Do bunnies like jelly beans, and why did some have floppy ears while others had upstanding ones? They asked so many questions that she thought nothing of it at first when she was crawling out of the iron tunnel and heard Samantha ask, "Miss Buffy? Who's that man by the front gate?" Buffy looked up, saw who it was, and bumped her head on the edge of the tunnel hard enough to make the iron ring like a dull chime. Oh, no

Part four....

He had been watching her for several minutes before she was alerted to his presence, watching as she played with the children, looking much like a child herself. But there had been nothing 'childlike' about her last night. Spike had noticed her when he'd walked out on the stage, scribbling on a stack of papers, her entire concentration devoted to whatever she was doing. When the applause from their intro had ebbed, he'd waited for her to put her pen down, but she'd just carried on with her paperwork as though she was in a library instead of a venue where loud rock music was making the walls shake. A minute into the first number, he had looked over at her and was slightly irked to see that she wasn't paying a damn bit of attention to the band. They could have been playing on the dark side of the moon, for all she was aware. Never one to turn down such an obvious challenge, he had signaled for the music to continue being played at a softer volume, unclipped his guitar strap, and jumped down from the stage. Fully intending to deliver a little nasty sarcasm, the notion had been wiped clean from his mind when she'd raised her head and looked at him like the proverbial deer in front of a quickly approaching pair of headlights. Christ..what a knock out she was. Delicately made, with a lovely face and a wealth of shining, honey brown hair, she had the biggest eyes. Large and long lashed, they were jade green with tiny gold flecks in them. Although he'd been unable to see much of her figure, hidden beneath the table as it was, the parts that he COULD see were very pleasing to the eye. Very pleasing, indeed. Instantly jettisoning his plan to be rude to her, he'd begun flirting shamelessly, not deterred in the slightest by her whispered insistence's that he return to the stage. After securing her promise that she would both listen and watch the performance, he had finally done just that. Watching her squirm as he sang for her, he had been completely charmed by her. Charmed enough, in fact, that he'd had no qualms about stopping her from leaving until he knew who she was and where he could call her. But, the little sneak had hidden in the ladies room and somehow managed to escape without him seeing it. Which had pissed him off...momentarily. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Spike flinched in sympathy when he saw her head come in contact with the metal pipe she was crawling out of. He could hear the sound it make clear on the other side of the play yard. There was a little blond haired cutie standing next to the tunnel, and she must have been the one to announce his presence. But teacher lady was now climbing to her feet, dusting her skirt off and heading towards him with fire in her eye. He couldn't remember the last time he'd pissed off a teacher, although he'd done more than his share of it in school. When she was only a few feet away, he got his first good look at her in the light of day...and wasn't a bit disappointed. She was just as pretty now as she'd been last night...and a good deal angrier. "You all right?" he asked, hoping to distract her with his sincere concern. The little girl was trailing right along with her teacher, hiding behind her skirt. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her cheeks beautifully pink with irritation. "How dare you come here?" "Nobody dared me," he shrugged. "I just did." That took the wind out of her sails...for about three seconds. "Why? Why are you here?" Spike grinned. She must know why he was here. After last night...how could she not? "You ran out on me last night," he reminded her. "Pro- mised me a name and phone number, and then you snuck off without giving it to me." Her breasts were heaving with her agitation, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes on her face. He had the feeling that if she even suspected he was staring at her chest, this would all be over before it began. No way he was gonna let that happen. "You have to leave," she informed him. "This is...this is private pro- perty, and you have no reason to be here." "How do you know that?" he countered. "Couldn't I be checking out the local schools for the benefit of my kids?" For some bizarre reason, Buffy's heart jerked unpleasantly in her bosom. "You...you have children?" "Not yet," he replied. "But....you never know what the very near future might hold." Meeting his eyes as boldly as she could manage, Buffy saw that he was definitely checking her up and down when he said those words. If possible, her cheeks became even redder. "Well...if you want to know more about the school...you have to make an appointment with Willow. She's the owner and she'll tell you everything you need to know. Goodbye." "But I'd rather talk to you," he said quickly. "Come on," he added, lowering his voice, "talk to me." Buffy glanced around, then stepped a bit closer to the fence he was on the other side of. "I'm at work," she announced, as though he couldn't see that plainly. "I don't have time to play games like this with you." Spike chuckled. "Oh, darling...I'm not playing a game. Not the kind you mean. In fact," he stepped a little closer, "I've rarely been more serious in my life. Why did you run out on me last night?" Running her hands over her hair in frustration, Buffy countered with a question of her own. "How did you know where I worked?" He stared down at his feet, kicking a rock around with the dusty toe of one boot, then looked back up at her from beneath his lashes. This was a practiced maneuver that usually charmed the hell out of whatever girl he was after. Most girls had such a soft spot for shy, boyish behavior. "Remember when I opened your book? I saw the name of the school at the bottom of the first page," he explained, grinning devilishly. The little girl tugged on the back of teacher lady's skirt. "Just a minute, Samantha," she said, then looked back at Spike. "I have to take my class in...and you have to leave," she said firmly. Spike sighed. This wasn't going to be easy...but something like this...like her...was worth the extra effort. "I'll go," he conceded. "But can I call you? Will you at least tell me your name?" "No," Buffy replied. Wondering if he was going to have to actually take a tour of the school to get the information he wanted, Spike grinned when the little blond cutie came to his rescue. "Miss Buffy?" she asked, tugging again on her skirt. "Is that your boyfriend?" Insanely pleased, Spike knelt until he was at eye level with the child. "You are a very clever little girl to guess that," he said bold- ly. "And you're very pretty, as well." He rose slowly to her feet. "Isn't she...Miss Buffy?" Casting him an evil scowl, Buffy turned to the little girl. "Samantha, it's almost time for recess to be over. Will you start collecting the balls for me and put them in the ball cage?" Nodding eagerly, Samantha skipped off to do as she'd been asked. Buffy turned back to Spike. "Why won't you go?" she sighed help- lessly. The question made him frown. He wasn't used to being treated this way by a girl. "I will," he said. "When I get what I came for." Pausing a moment, Buffy clasped her hands together. "Look...Mr. Devlin, I..." "Spike" he interjected. "Mr. Devlin....I don't understand why you're doing this. You must have plenty of women just dying to throw themselves at your feet. Why you've decided to single me out for your...attention...I don't know, but..." "You really don't, do you?" he cut in, surprised. "Well, I'll tell you why. Because I felt something last night. The minute I saw you, heard your voice...I felt something. And you damn well felt it, too. Don't tell me you didn't. I was singing for YOU, Miss Buffy. And if you'd had the courage to stick around, I would have kept on singing for you." She couldn't think of a thing to say in reply to such a declaration. "When you get to know me better," he went on, "you'll see that I don't give up easily...not when I want something badly enough. So get ready for me, darling," He leaned over the fence until his face was close to hers and whispered, "because I intend to rock your safe...little...world." Before she could move, he dropped a light kiss on her lips. "Bye for now, luv." Sliding a pair of sunglasses on, he turned and crossed the street, then climbed into a black Mustang and drove away. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Part five..... Buffy wiped the chalkboard clean with slow, measured strokes of the eraser, staring through the gray slate. Her mind was still reeling from her earlier encounter, and she'd purposely stayed late this evening to try and distract herself with the little odds and ends of her preparations for tomorrow's class. But she couldn't concentrate on anything but him...couldn't see anything but his blue eyes as they moved over her body...couldn't hear anything but his voice tell her exactly what he wanted from her....his voice... "Well, well, well...if it isn't Miss Buffy. Still at school, and so late at night." She spun around in shock, clutching the eraser to her breast like a shield. There he was...the man she'd been trying so hard not to think about. He was wearing another pair of snug jeans, fraying at the knees. His boots were soft, scuffed leather, and he had on a blue button down shirt....the exact color of his eyes. "Tell me, teacher," he said, pacing slowly towards her with his hands tucked into his front pockets. "Have you ever been made love to...on your desk?" She shook her head, no. "Now that's a bloody shame," he added, stopping directly in front of her. Before she knew it was happening, he had his hands under her arms and was pulling her forward. And then his mouth...that beautifully sinful mouth...was on hers, devouring her like a hungry animal. His lips coaxed hers apart, and his tongue slid sinuously between them, finding and stroking hers. Buffy's knees turned to water, and she clutched at him to keep from falling to the floor. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he walked her backwards a few feet and sat her bottom down on the edge of her desk. Then, with one sweep of his hand, he cleared it of the books and papers, the pens and pencils, and all the other minutiae that cluttered up her work space. All of it landed on the floor in a messy pile. "Oh, teacher," he whispered hotly in her ear. "Can you teach me what you like? What gets you hot? Where you want to be touched?" He pushed her legs apart and stepped closer, easing her down onto her back. Of their own volition, her fingers slid from his shoulders up into the silky mass of platinum curls. Curving inwards, they held him to her. "And then," he murmured, his lips traveling down her throat, "I'll teach you what I like...where I want you to touch me...taste me." His right hand began to unbutton her blouse. He pressed slow, hot kisses to the skin he exposed. Buffy was panting as she stared at the ceiling, fondling and caressing his soft hair, holding him to her breast. Spike Devlin wasted no time. With one hand, he easily undid the front closure of her bra, then peeled the cups away from her overheated flesh. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed against her skin. "And I want you so much." She was through trying to resist this. Stubborn she might be, but she wasn't stupid. "Make love to me," she whispered, begging shamelessly. "Please..oh, please. I want you..." "And I want you, darling." He straightened up and pushed her skirt up around her thighs. "Lift up," he directed her, then pulled the scrap of satin and lace between her legs down and off. Reaching for her hand, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a tender kiss into her palm, then guided it down to the top snap of his pants. Without a second thought, she unfastened it, watching in delight as his zipper began to slide down on it's own, helped along by the intense pressure from the other side. "So big," she said, meeting his eyes. He smiled, pleased that he was pleasing her. "Touch it," he demanded. "Wrap your little fingers around it and squeeze a little...ahh...perfect." His head dropped back a little as she stroked and caressed him. "Miss Buffy," he moaned. "You have the sweetest little hands." She smiled. "I think you're going to be a very good student." "Mmm...tighter, darling...yeah, that's it...slide it up and down....good girl..." Buffy parted her legs further. "Do you have something for teacher?" she asked teasingly, tugging on his hard shaft, aiming it where she wanted it to go. Spike fell forward onto his hands. "Something better than an apple," he promised. She rubbed the cleft of her sex with his glans. "I do believe...that's an A+ you have there." "Lift your legs a little," he instructed, as he slid the head of his cock inside her. "Fucking tight," he groaned, his hips beginning to move back and forward in a rhythm that made them both happy. "Faster," she pleaded. "Harder....now....I want more..." "Yes, teacher," he panted, pounding into her like a jackhammer. "I'll give you all you can take." Buffy ran her hands up his arms and dig her nails into his biceps. The pleasure he was giving her was beyond anything she'd ever imagined. With no effort whatsoever, he was bringing her to a cataclysmic orgasm. Her own hips began to rise and fall, harder and faster, meeting every slam of his pelvis into hers. "Oh...oh, yes....yes..." "Say my name," he begged. "Please, teacher...say my name." "S-Spike....oh, yes, Spike....I'm...oh....oh....Spike...Spike...SPIKE!" As her body began to calm, she looked up into his lovely blue eyes, and wanted nothing more than to drown in them. "You're so beautiful," he said, still sliding smoothly in and out of her. "You're soft...and warm...and so pretty...you're a five car pile up on the interstate...with multiple injuries." Buffy frowned. "Huh?" "Ground fog...visibility...watch your speed..." "What....what do you mean...." "And in other news..." *************************************************************** Buffy's eyes flew open wide as she shot up in bed. Shaking her head, she reached over onto her nightstand and slapped off the clock radio, then collapsed back onto the pillows and placed one hand over her wildly racing heart. "Damn."Part Six.... Three days went by, with no sign of Spike Devlin. Buffy wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, or a combination of both. After her rather vivid dream, she had actually considered calling in sick at work, afraid he might show up. She wouldn't have been able to even look him in the eye, and she had a terrible feeling that he would know why just by looking at her. But her students were counting on her and, as always, they were the ones who really mattered. For some of them, the only stability they had was found at Willow Tree Preschool. As the days passed, Buffy began to relax and to believe that her experience with Devlin was a one shot deal. He'd probably just been bored in their bucolic little town, and needed something different to do to fill in his time before he left to go wherever it was he was going. Then, Friday afternoon rolled around..... ********************************************************* "Miss Buffy? Tanner took the straw from my juice box!" "Tanner...give Melody her straw back... NOW...please Tanner! Thank you... Michael, do you need help with your thermos?... No, turn it the other way...Be careful when you...It's all right...Go inside and ask Miss Willow for a towel...Don't get upset...It's only apple juice...Megan, your mother wants you to eat some of those carrots...No, BEFORE the cookies, not after...Because you'll be too full to eat them...You may save one for the bunny, but that's all...David, bring me your orange and I'll peel it for you...How about if I get it started?...Kyle, sit still...Be- cause when you bounce up and down that way, you shake the whole bench...Just pick it up and throw it in the trash can, Mia...Not when you drop it outside, no...Tyler, that's NOT what your sleeve is for. Please go inside and get a tissue..." "Miss Buffy?" "What, Samantha?" "Your boyfriend's here." Buffy's head whipped around so fast that her neck popped unpleasantly. ************************************************** Her heart lurched in her chest. Half of her was thrilled that he'd returned, wondering if he had actually meant the things he'd said the other day. But the other half, the sensible Buffy, was scared witless at the whole idea. She turned around. "If you're finished with your lunch, you may throw away your trash and play for the rest of the hour." The children seemed to be in no hurry to leave. Normally, they would have taken off before she could utter the final word. Today, sensing that something was up, their little butts appeared to have been hot glued to the bench. Trying to make a good show of things, they fiddled with the remains of their lunches, remains that had been destined for the garbage only a moment ago. Crusts of bread, some squishy raisins at the bottom of their bags, the four or five drops of juice left in their drink boxes and thermos bottles...even the granola bars that they universally detested...all of this was being consumed slower than an arthritic snail as they methodically went about qualifying for membership in the "clean plate" club. She closed her eyes tightly, deciding that he was an illusion brought on because she'd been thinking about him so much...much more than was actually good for her. Opening her eyes, she turned around again. The "illusion" smiled and waved. With a look of grim determination, she rose to her feet and, once again, headed across the play yard. Several of her students started to follow after her, but she turned on them and stopped THAT misguided notion with a look that meant business. ***************************************************** She halted five feet from the fence he was leaning on. "What part of 'private property' and 'you'll have to make an appointment' was I unclear about?" Spike Devlin smiled and shrugged. "How do you I didn't?" he challenged. **Yeah, right!** she scoffed, inwardly. **Like Willow would be able to keep THAT to herself!** "Fine. The main office is over there," she said, pointing in it's direction. "Goodbye." "All right, all right," he said when she began to leave. "I'll tell you the truth." The words stopped her in her tracks, and she waited. "I lied." Buffy turned and faced him. "I wanted to see you again," he confessed. "Is that a bloody crime...Miss Buffy?" "Yes," she answered tartly. "When I asked you to please leave, it became trespassing." Devlin chuckled. "Good luck getting THAT one to stand up in court." She was just about to give him his walking papers yet again, when the office door opened and Willow stepped outside with a piece of paper in her hand. "Buffy?" she asked absently, not looking up. "Do you know when the supplies for the copier came in? I think I've been billed twice for the same..." Finally raising her head, she was startled into silence when she saw who Buffy was talking to. "Oh!" she said, when she found her voice. "You're him! You're Spike Devlin! Buffy!" she turned to look at her. "This is Spike Devlin! Here! In our school!" "Will wonders never cease," Buffy muttered. "Wow," Willow continued to gush. "I can't believe this. I am such a fan of Blue Eyed Devil. I mean...I went to see you guys at Union Jack's but I had this...stupid emergency and I had to leave. But, you're here!" Sighing in disgust as she watched her employer de-evolve into a teenage groupie right before her eyes, Buffy made the introductions. "Willow Rosenberg...Spike Devlin," She paused for a moment, then crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a look. "Who is interested in the school." Willow gasped. "Really? In MY school? I mean...OUR school? I mean...THIS school?" Spike Devlin smiled charmingly. "It's nice to meet you, luv," he said. "This is a real sweet little place you're running here." Willow blushed, her cheeks turning the color of her hair. "Well, thank you!" she said. "What a nice thing to say." "Yeah," Buffy added. "Nice." She looked at Willow. "You should take him into your office, Wils," she suggested pointedly. "Show him our curriculum." Willow seized on the words. "Sure! Great! How old is your child?" she asked giddily. "To tell you the truth, pet," he answered. "I don't have one...just yet." Spike allowed his gaze to linger on Buffy for a moment longer, his expression making it clear that he knew exactly what she was about. Oh, GOD...he was going to enjoy this! Pursuing little Miss Buffy would be wildly exciting...and definitely worth the chase....

Chapter Seven..... Buffy could feel his eyes on her in a way that was almost palpable. The lovely blue of his iris seemed to have deepened, and they snapped with pent up energy. He made her so nervous that she actually had to take a step back. "So," Willow spoke up. "You don't have any children?" Spike Devlin shook his head, his eyes still pinned on Buffy. "None of my own," he replied. "I have a niece and nephew," **In England** he added silently, mentally crossing his fingers. "My sister's kids." "Oh...and you're checking out the available preschools for them?" "What?" He pulled his gaze away from Buffy and addressed himself to Willow. "Oh...yeah. Yeah, they're...about the right age and....so on." "I see." Willow glanced at her watch. "Well, it's almost time for the children to go in and have their quiet time. If you'd like to come into the office, I'd be happy to show you how we operate here at Willow Tree." Buffy sighed with relief. An escape opportunity presenting itself at exactly the right moment. Her out-of-whack stars must be moving back into alignment. "Excuse me," she murmured, then walked out into the play yard and clapped her hands. The children knew the drill, and they left what they were doing to form a slightly disorderly line. Buffy waited until all her ducklings were in a row, then marched them inside. The children followed along, going straight to their cubbyholes and pulling out their rest mats and stuffed animals. She read to them for fifteen minutes, turned off the overhead light, then sat down at her desk to begin cutting pieces of colored construction paper into different shapes and sizes for their afternoon art project, and NOT think about Spike Devlin. ********************************************** Spike was having a far more difficult time not thinking about Miss Buffy. He had willingly followed Willow into her office, and taken a look at her curriculum and the goals she set for the children attending her school. During a lull in the conversation, he was struck by a sudden inspiration. "You know," he said sincerely. "All this looks just great, and I'll definitely clue my little sister in...but I was just thinking that maybe I could visit one of the classrooms. Watch how things work. That be okay, luv?" This was a common and reasonable request, so Willow didn't find it strange. "The children are having their quiet time right now," she informed him. "But you're more than welcome to sit in on the afternoon session." "Fabulous," Devlin murmured, trying hard not to look too eager. But Willow just smiled and pulled out her attendance sheets. "Everyone has a full class today," she said, scanning the list. "Since you already know Buffy...maybe you should start there." Looking up, she closed her ledger and put it away. "I assume you've told her what you want?" He nodded. "Oh, yes," he said firmly. "She knows EXACTLY what I want." "Great," Willow said, standing up. "I'll show you where her class is." **************************************************** Buffy was beginning to think that someone had it in for her in a major way. As if she didn't have enough on her mind, the children were continuing to act up. Kyle needed to go the bathroom. Jason needed a drink of water. Keiko needed to get her stuffed 'sleep buddy' out of her cubby. Andrew just enjoyed making noise. Nina had sand in her shoes. By the time she had attended to each one, Jason needed to go to the bathroom, Kyle was thirsty, and she was back at square one. Even when she finally had them down on their mats, they couldn't seem to be still and rest. They giggled, they whispered, they kicked their legs, they hummed tunelessly, they flopped around like a school of beached goldfish. Then, when she was already on her last nerve, it got worse. **************************************************** "That's enough!" Willow stood in the doorway and clapped her hands sharply, twice. "Now," she added, when all of the children were lying as stiffly and silently as planks of wood, "we have a guest today." Buffy, who had her back to the door, clapped one hand over her eyes. She knew, without even having to look, exactly who the mystery guest would turn out to be. "This is Mr. Devlin," Willow said. "He's here to see how we do things at Willow Tree, and I KNOW that you want to show him what good boys and girls you all are. Do you think that's what you were doing a moment ago?" Twelve heads wobbled from side to side. "Then I expect you all to quiet down," she said firmly. "Buffy...?" Heaving a sigh that came all the way from the soles of her shoes, Buffy turned around and saw Willow wave her over. She smiled weakly, her suspicions confirmed. Standing beside Willow, with a smirk on his face that she could have cheerfully slapped right off, was Spike Devlin. **Help me, someone. Anyone?** Buffy approached the pair at the door, pushing her hands into the side pockets of her denim skirt. "Willow...I'm having a hard time settling them down," she murmured. "Maybe this isn't a good idea...today. Why don't you try Carolyn's class." Her friend stared at her as though she'd lost every last one of her marbles. She honestly couldn't believe that Buffy was turning down a visit from Spike Devlin. But, before she could say anything in reply, he cut her off. "I'd actually rather observe YOU, Miss Buffy. Watch how you...handle yourself," he double entendred in silken tones. "When the children aren't minding their P's and Q's, I mean." Trapped. Trapped like a caged ferret. ************************************************* The instant that the door closed behind Willow, Buffy dropped her smile and returned to her desk without speaking one word to her unwanted guest. As calmly as she could, she picked up her scissors and continued the task of cutting out shapes of con- struction paper. Devlin strolled leisurely around the room, pausing to study different displays of the children's work tacked to the walls, slowly working his way towards her desk. Buffy ignored him, concentrating on cutting the paper and not herself. In the state of mind she was in, she had no doubt whatsoever that she would slice a finger off. "What are you doing?" he asked, perching on the side of her desk. She stopped cutting and looked up at him. "Baking a cake," she replied sarcastically, with a dead-pan ex- pression. The children snickered, and she could have kicked herself. "Quiet!" Devlin just smiled. "Need any help?" he whispered. "No, thank you." "You sure?" "Completely." He was silent for a few seconds. "I don't mind helping." "No, thank you," she said doggedly. "My triangles are a bit lopsided, but my circles are works of art. Just ask my mum." Another wave of giggles swept through the room. Buffy flung her head up and smacked her palm on the desk. "THAT'S ENOUGH!" Looking up at Spike, she scowled. "I'm sorry...but if you can't refrain from disrupting my class, then...." "ME?" he asked, pointing at himself. "YOU'RE the one yelling at them." She stared at him, her lips slightly parted. He was absolutely right. HE had been whispering. SHE was the one with the volume control problem. The children's eyes bounced back and forth between the two adults, like tiny spectators at a really intense ping-pong tournament. It wasn't long before they began fidgeting and whispering again. ********************************************* Spike could see that the imminent loss of control over her class was agitating Buffy. Since he didn't want to be the cause of this problem, which would certainly not endear him to her, he decided to take some action. Leaning over, he spoke quietly to her. "I'll be right back, luv." Watching him walk out the door, Buffy was momentarily tempted to lock it. His car, the black Mustang she'd seen the other day, was parked at the curb. He unlocked the trunk and reached inside, bringing out a ..... "Oh, no," she said beneath her breath. This was the last thing on earth that she needed at that particular moment. Jumping to her feet, she intercepted him as he came through the door. "No. You can't do that in here," she said curtly. "I absolutely forbid you to...zip that back up! I mean it...do NOT take that out in my classroom." "Calm down," he said quietly. "I'm going to help." "How?" she demanded. "By damaging their hearing?" Spike opened the inner lining of it's case and removed a guitar. "Do you see any electrical outlets on this instrument?" he asked. "This, my lovely, is an acoustic guitar. It has a red cedar top and rosewood back and sides, mother of pearl inlay on the headstock, and a rosewood fret board." He looped the strap around his neck. "My first guitar," he informed her. "I take it everywhere, but I rarely play it except when I'm alone...because it's very special to me." Buffy was quite unable to say anything. "Today," he added, running his fingers lightly up and down the neck of the instrument. "I want to play it...for you. And for the little ones." He smiled at her, a genuine and open smile, with no hidden meanings. "That all right with you, lovely?" After a moment, she returned his smile. "Yes," she said softly. "It's all right with me." Actually...it was so VERY all right with her...that it scared her. Just a little...... **************************************************** Spike Devlin spent the next fifteen minutes of his life enchanting twelve children...and their teacher. Sitting on the edge of Buffy's desk, he moved his fingers over the strings of his guitar, drawing out lovely melodies designed to calm the wildest heart. Then he left the desk and began to wander through the room. It made Buffy smile, remembering how he prowled the stage at Union Jack's. It must be a habit so deeply ingrained that he did it without even thinking about it. "Hush a bye, hush a bye Go to sleepy little baby When you wake, you shall have All all the pretty little horses," The children never took their eyes off him, but they remained as quiet as it was humanly possible for them to be. "Blacks and bays Dapples and grays All the pretty little horses." His voice was every bit as beautifully tuned an instrument as the guitar itself. He kept his tone low and soft. "Hush a bye, don't you cry Go to sleepy little baby When you wake, you shall have sweet cake And all the pretty little horses. A black and bay, a brown and gray All the pretty little horses All the black ones, and all the white ones All the calm ones, and all the wild ones All the pretty little horses. All the pretty little horses." He stopped singing, but continued to play softly. Five minutes later, every child in the room was sound asleep. Then he turned and smiled at her, and Buffy knew that she was in danger of completely losing her heart if she wasn't careful. Problem was, she wasn't sure she wanted to be careful anymore. Part Eight.... Devlin placed the guitar back in it's case and propped it up against the wall, then turned his penetrating blue gaze on Buffy. When their eyes met, he smiled and she blushed...which only made his smile widen. He approached her with slow, measured strides, resuming his seat on the edge of her desk. He said nothing, but took the extra pair of scissors out of her pencil box, then picked up a sheet of red construction paper and began cutting out the circles she had traced on it earlier. The room was quiet, and they worked in a surprisingly comfortable silence with nothing but the soft sound of the scissors to mar the peace. When the chore was finished, Buffy stacked the different shapes in neat little piles, and tossed the scraps into her waste basket. "Thank you," she murmured. "My pleasure, Miss Buffy." She could tell that he was waiting for her to make the next move. "Listen," she began. "I was...I mean...I know that I was a little...rude to you...before. But...it's just that...that I'm not used to...." "Not used to what?" he asked, softly. "Not used to a man being interested in you? Being attracted to you?" His voice dropped into a lower register. "Wanting you?" These words sent a pleasant shiver up and down her spinal column, but what he said next would have buckled her knees had she been standing. "You'll need to get used to it...Miss Buffy." **Oh, help....** ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She expected him to pack up and go, but he surprised her yet again by showing no such inclination. Instead, he waited until the children began to wake up, then sat at the back of the room and watched as they did their "wake up stretches" on the interlocking rubber mats in the middle of the floor. Buffy was acutely aware of his eyes following her as she moved around the room, and she couldn't forget the sound of his voice telling her that she'd need to get used to being wanted...by him. She wasn't quite sure this was something she'd be able to do. She'd had her share of male admirers throughout high school and college, and had dated a few of the young men in Sunnydale when she'd first arrived. Riley Finn had made no secret of the fact that he most certainly was interested in more than casual friendship. But she had no experience with the sort of situation she was in now. She'd never even met a man like Devlin before. He was cocky and confident, completely sure of himself, and she had the feeling that he usually got pretty much anything he wanted. Spike Devlin lived in a totally different world, a world she had no knowledge of, a world she could never belong in or fit into. He had aspirations far beyond her scope, and probably wanted much different things out of life. She was a small town girl, and always would be. He was big city, born and bred, destined for stardom, for fame and fortune. These were things she had no interest in. Her goals in life were much simpler. She loved her job, and couldn't imagine doing anything else. Eventually, she wanted to be married and have some children of her own. Being an only child, she'd grown up lonely and so had planned to have at least three kids when she found the right man to settle down with. Spike Devlin wasn't the "settling down" type. How could he be? His career was just getting up and running, and he would have to be moving at a fast pace to keep it going in the right direction. Buffy couldn't hope to keep up with someone like that. And yet.... **He wants me...Spike Devlin, who could no doubt have any girl he chose...wants me** Yes, but for what? And for how long? Until the novelty wore off? He seemed interested now...but was it just the love of a chase that was turning him on? If she stopped running...would he still be there afterwards? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "All right, munchkins...this is called a command perfor- mance." Spike sat on the bench beneath one of the weeping willows and smiled at the children gathered around him on the grass. "That means your wish is my command. You tell me what you want to hear..and if I can, I'll play it for you." The entire faculty and miniature student body of Willow Tree Preschool was present for this particular performance. They all sat, grouped in their individual classes, giggling and excited. Buffy had to smile. Giggling and excited was a perfect description....and the children were enjoying it as well. The afternoon play period was almost over when Miss Willow came outside to see what everyone was watching. Within five minutes she decided that since it was such a nice day, and they had such a special guest, the period could be extended for a while. The children's taste in music was fairly simple, and well known. Standards like 'Old McDonald's Farm' and 'Pop goes the Weasel' were requested and granted. Devlin had a way with children that was very appealing. Not a lot of men had such a natural rapport, or could be so completely relaxed and at home in such a setting. He not only played and sang the children's song re- quests, he led them along with him, encouraging them to sing at the top of their lungs, to make sure "the people way in the back of the concert hall" would be able to hear them. "He's really something," Willow said quietly. Buffy nodded. "He's definitely a surprise," she agreed. There was a pause. "I get the feeling that you're a little better acquainted with him than you let on," Willow said, giving Buffy a speculative look. "You don't act as though this is the first time you've met him...and I don't mean just sitting and listening to him at Union Jack's either." Buffy stared at her shoes for a moment. "He was here the other day," she finally admitted. "We....talked." "But how did he..." Willow gasped. "Something happened the other night, didn't it? That's why you were so strange when I asked you about the concert!" "Willow..." "You'd better tell me," her friend warned, a wide smile on her face. "This is NOT something you can keep to yourself." Buffy's cheeks were bright red, she could literally feel them heating up. She didn't have the faintest idea in the world how she could explain to Willow about what had been going on between her and Spike Devlin. She avoided the situation by glancing at her watch. "It's getting late," she said quickly. "I have to go get the snack together." "Buffy..." "Later, Wils." Buffy said, making a promise of full confession with her eyes. Willow Tree provided a daily afternoon snack to all it's students, and each day it was a different teacher's turn to prepare it. Today was Buffy's responsibility. She was turning to go to the kitchenette in the main building when the kids all began to applaud the end of Devlin's performance. Some of them scrambled to their feet, jumping up and down in excitement. When they all scattered for a few minutes in the play yard, Spike put his guitar back in it's case and walked over to where Buffy and Willow were standing. The owner and operator of Willow Tree was effusive in her gratitude. "This has been such a treat for all of us," she said, smiling up into Devlin's eyes. "Thank you so much." "Don't mention it, pet," he said, returning her smile. "I enjoyed it, too. They're a great group of kids." He looked at Buffy. "Which isn't surprising, since they seem to have great teachers." Buffy was momentarily caught in his intense blue gaze, but said nothing. "Well," Willow said, sensing the the spark of electricity that seemed to be zinging back and forth between Buffy and Spike, "you have a whole new fan club now. The kids, I mean. It's nice to have you around." Buffy finally broke eye contact with Devlin. "Excuse me," she said softly. "I need to go inside and get their snacks ready." "Go ahead," Willow nodded. "I'll bring your class over to the benches for you." As Buffy turned and walked away, she heard Willow asking Devlin whether Blue Eyed Devil would be playing anywhere in the area before they left on their tour. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Buffy stood in the darkened kitchenette, breaking graham crackers along their dividing lines and placing them in small baskets. There was one basket for each table, and she made sure that there was enough for each child to have two full crackers. She was slicing apples onto paper plates when the bat wing door creaked open behind her. Her heart began beating at twice it's normal pace, and she knew who was standing there. Devlin crossed the small room and stood directly behind her, so close that she could feel the heat of his body. "What about you, Buffy?" he asked quietly, dropping the appellation 'Miss'. She swallowed nervously. "What about me?" she echoed, reaching for another apple. He placed his hands over hers, making her stop cutting up fruit. "Do YOU think it's nice to have me around?" Buffy closed her eyes for just a moment as he turned her around to face him. "Wh...what?" she stammered, looking up at him. "Do YOU think it's nice to have me around?" he asked again. Giving her no opportunity to reply, he put his hands on her waist, then slowly...so slowly...he lowered his head and captured her mouth in a kiss that was both tenderly sweet and madly passionate at the same time. "Oh.....help...."

Part Nine.... He kissed her until she felt herself becoming light headed. With a technique that was truly amazing, he alternated between firm pressure and light touches, just barely running his tongue along the closure of her lips, until they parted and invited him inside to play. After an initial moment of uncertainly, Buffy allowed her tongue to tentatively touch his. He tasted of coffee and a faint trace of peppermint, probably from toothpaste. When he drew back, he leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Miss Buffy...has anyone ever told you that you kiss like a dream come true?" Her eyes opened halfway, and they were slightly unfocused. "Mm...no, not really." Devlin chuckled softly. "Good, then I'm the first." A cacophony of childish voices from outside cleared her scattered mind, and she suddenly remembered exactly where she was. Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed him away. "I...I have to finish this. It's...it's time for the..." "Afternoon snack?" he offered. Buffy nodded. "Yes. That." She turned away and resumed working on the apples. He watched her in silence for a moment. "We're playing at Union Jack's tonight," he finally said. "Will you come?" She kept slicing apples, and didn't reply. "Buffy...will you come to Union Jack's tonight?" he asked again. Still, she said nothing. "Buffy!" "I don't know!" came bursting out of her. "I don't think I can." Spike placed his hands on the counter top on either side of her, caging her in. "You don't think you CAN?" he asked bluntly. "Or...you don't think you SHOULD?" "What's the difference?" "Oh, there's a big difference, luv," he said softly. "You don't think you CAN means you're too busy to come. You don't think you SHOULD means that you're afraid to." Buffy tried a weak laugh. "I'm definitely NOT afraid," she replied. Which of them she was trying to convince, she wasn't quite sure. "Yes, you are." He nuzzled the side of her neck. "And it's exciting, isn't it?" She shook her head. "Hardly." Devlin's mouth traveled up until he was once again speaking in her ear. "It makes the hot blood race through your veins like wildfire. Your heart beats harder, 'til you think it'll just explode if you can't have what you want...what you need. Tell me, Buffy," he whispered. "Tell me what you want...and I'll move heaven and earth to give it to you." If she knew the answer to THAT complex question, she wouldn't be in the predicament she was in now. Impatiently, he put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to turn around. "Say you'll come tonight," he said, taking a handful of her hair and tugging on it until her head dropped back and her neck arched invitingly. He pressed his lips to the place where the blood was visibly throbbing, his breath hot on her skin. "Say it!" Every ounce of her resistance drained out of her. "I will," she said, almost inaudibly. "I'll come." Devlin pulled back and looked into her eyes. "Promise me," he demanded. However hard she tried, Buffy couldn't break away from that laser blue gaze. "I promise." He nodded and smiled, satisfied. "Now," he said. "It's gonna be a long time before I see you tonight, so kiss me again. Give me a kiss that'll last me until then." Helpless to do anything else, Buffy complied. Devlin was the first to break away. "See you tonight, luv," he said, pinching her cheek, then heading out the door to say goodbye to the children. **************************************************** Hours later, Buffy stood in front of her full length mirror. She'd decided to wear a cream colored tank top, covered with a blouse made of the same colored lace. It had a V-neckline, and the sleeves were snug all the way to her wrists where they ended in a bell of lace that covered half of her hands. Her skirt was a black leather wrap around, it's hem just skimming the tops of her boots. After applying her make up, she'd had a twenty minute internal debate over how to wear her hair. Up in a loose chignon, or tumbling down her back? She'd compromised by leaving it down, but pulling it back and securing it with a gold barrette. When there was nothing more she could do, she grabbed her car keys and purse, and headed out the door, still wondering what in the name of god she thought she was doing. ****************************************************** Union Jack's was at maximum capacity when she arrived. Certain that there was no way she'd be able to get in, she was ready to turn around and go home when someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Are you Miss Summers?" The boy was wearing black pants and a shirt with the club's namesake on the back. His name tag read "Tim." Buffy nodded that she was indeed Miss Summers, and the boy beckoned her to follow him. He led her around the building and through a side door that opened directly into the main room. Every table in the place was occupied, save one in the middle, close to the stage. Tim seated her at the small table, then asked if he could bring her something to drink and if she needed a menu. Buffy declined the menu, but ordered a glass of white wine. Feeling ridiculously conspicuous, she didn't allow her eyes to wander around the room. Five minutes crawled by before the house lights darkened slightly and Blue Eyed Devil hit the stage. Spike Devlin's eyes zeroed in on her immediately, and he grinned broadly at her as he picked up his guitar. Determined not to let him rattle her, she lifted her chin and met his gaze with hers. He was delighted with this response, and he winked at her, adjusting his microphone. "Well, hi there Sunnydale," he said, looking out over his audience. "Didja miss us?" The crowd applauded wildly, some of them releasing whistles that only a dog should be capable of hearing. "I guess that means yes," the bass player said when the noise died down. Devlin laughed and looked at him. "S'nice to be wanted, innit?" The drummer gave them the down beat, and the band began making the walls shake once again. Devlin stepped up to his mic. "Watch closely now," he said. "You'll observe a curious exchange of energies." Deliberately, he looked at Buffy. "Are you a figment of my imagina- tion....or am I one of yours?" "Watch closely now Are you watching me now? Your eyes are like fingers They're touching my body And arousing my soul Riding the passion arising inside me How high can I go? You're coming with me, girl I'm gonna show you how When it's scary...don't look down." Buffy couldn't take her eyes off him. "Watch closely now Are you watching me now?" The song had a fast, hard beat, and the words brought back the memory of the last time she'd sat in this room and listened to him sing, the night he'd made her promise to watch him. "I see the hunger arise in your eyes And it's urging me on Higher and harder And faster and farther Than I've ever gone We're coming closer, lady Don't you leave me now We're gonna make it Don't look down.." Was he promising her something...or warning her? "Maybe I'm taking me too many chances With no net at all Baby, I'll teach you at least That you've gotta be free when you fall" Taking chances was not something she was good at. After a lifetime of safe and secure, how could she even begin to take this particular chance? "Watch closely now Are you watching me now?" But if she didn't, would she regret it for the rest of her life? "I'm the master magician That's setting you free From the lies you've been told When you're breaking your back Bring your last straw to me I turn straw into gold" Would it be worth it? Taking the chance...risking the possibilities... "I'm gonna need you later Will you be around? And I can take it Don't look down Watch closely now Are you watching me now? **Yes...I'm watching you...I am**

Part 10..... "Let's bring it down a little, okay? How about some- thing soft and sexy?" The applause was enormous, and went on for some time. Devlin grinned. "God, I love this crowd." The bass player nodded. "They're something special, all right." The band's lead singer turned and looked straight at Buffy. "Very special," he said softly. "Well just look at that girl With the lights coming up in her eyes She's got to be somebody's baby She must be somebody's baby.." Her cheeks turned pink, but she kept her eyes on him. "All the guys on the corner Stand back and let her walk on by She's got to be somebody's baby She must be somebody's baby She's so fine..." Actually, she was nobody's baby...not yet. "She's probably somebody's only light Gonna shine tonight Yeah, she's probably somebody's baby, all right." He smiled and winked at her. She reached for her glass and drank the rest of the wine. "I heard her talking with her friend When she thought nobody else was around She said she's got to be somebody's baby She must be somebody's's baby." A waiter appeared at her table, and she ordered another glass of Chardonnay. "Cause when the cars and the signs And the street lights light up the town She's got to be somebody's baby She must be somebody's's baby She's got to be somebody's baby She's so fine." The room began to feel somewhat hot. "She's gonna be somebody's only light Gonna shine tonight Yeah, she's gonna be somebody's baby tonight." A new glass of wine was placed in front of her. "I try to shut my eyes, but I can't Get her out of my sight I know I'm gonna know her But I gotta get her over her fright." Once again, the waiter left without requesting payment. "Well, I'm just gonna walk up to her I'm gonna talk to her tonight." The unaccustomed alcohol was starting to make itself known, giving her a warmish glow all over. "Yeah, she's gonna be somebody's only light Gonna shine tonight Oh, yeah..she's gonna be somebody's baby tonight." Lacing her fingers together, she threw all of her caution away and gave him the most dazzling smile she had as she met his gaze. "Gonna shine tonight, make her mine tonight." He stared at her, a slow smile forming on his sensuous mouth. "Mm-hmm...she's gonna be somebody's baby tonight." This time, she managed to control her blush. Barely..... **************************************************** Thirty minutes later, the band took a break. Three of them jumped down and headed straight for the bar. One of them headed straight for her. "You came," Devlin said, leaning on the table. Buffy shrugged and finished her fourth glass of wine. "I told you that I would." "Well, that's true." He gave her a speculative look. "Did you have some dinner tonight before you came here?" he asked. She had to think for a moment. "I...yes. Yes, I did," she nodded. "Why?" "Nothing, luv," he replied. "It's just that you've been drinking, but I haven't seen you order anything to eat." "I wasn't hungry. I ate before I left my house." The band was heading back to the stage for their next set. Devlin stayed where he was. "Umm...I think they're gonna start without you," Buffy pointed out. "They can't start without me," he said. "It's my band." Leaning a little closer, he lowered his voice. "I want to kiss you so badly I can hardly stand it." Buffy's heart lurched in her chest. She had no idea how to answer such a provocative statement. The bass player twanged a discordant note, and Devlin looked slightly irritated. "Shit," he swore softly. "I have to get back up there." "Okay," Buffy said agreeably. "Listen...I'm gonna drive you home tonight, luv." No, no, no....bad idea. "But my car is here," she protested. "I'll drive you home in it. I have someone who'll come and pick me up." He started to return to the stage, then turned back to her. "Do NOT try and leave without me. Got it?" Buffy had to smile at her reference to what she had done the night they'd met. "Got it." Devlin returned her smile. "That's my girl," he murmured. ** Your girl? ** *********************************************** "Okay...this is the last one. We need..." The air was peppered with cries of "No!" "Oh, come on," Devlin laughed. "We're beat. Just look at us....you've worn us out...and I have plans for the rest of the night!" Buffy had one elbow on the table, holding her chin in the cupped palm of her hand, resting her slightly fuzzy head. His announcement snapped her back to full alert. Plans? He had plans? He had plans for....THE REST OF THE NIGHT?! Instinct told her to run and not stop until she got home. If he had plans with some girl, she didn't particularly want to know about it. Buffy was surprised at how unpalatable the thought really was. She would have to start getting her defense mechanisms up and running again. No way would she allow these feelings to show. Sighing deeply, she listened to him sing for what she was determined would be the very last time. "Friday night I crashed your party Saturday I said I'm sorry Sunday came and trashed me out again." The song was fast paced and loud. Not what she would have chosen to hear for her final time. "I was only having fun Wasn't hurting anyone And we all enjoyed the weekend For a change." He couldn't have sang something soft and sweet, something just for.... "I've been stranded in the combat zone I walked through Bedford-Stuy alone Even rode my motorcycle in the rain And you told me not to drive But I made it home alive And you said that only proves That I'm insane." Buffy couldn't take her eyes off him....again. He was sweaty and smiling, obviously having a wonder- ful time. He suddenly pointed at her, and sang... "You may be right, I may be crazy But it just might be a lunatic You're looking for Turn out the light Don't try to save me You may be wrong for all I know But you may be right." What the hell was he doing? Buffy turned around and looked to see if he was perhaps pointing at someone behind her. "Remember how I found you there Alone in your electric chair I told you dirty jokes until you smiled." The only people behind her were definitely already paired into couples. There were no single girls to be seen. Confused, she looked back and found his eyes on her. "You were lonely for a man I said take me as I am 'Cause you might enjoy some madness For a while. Now think of all the years you tried To find someone to satisfy you I might be as crazy as you say.." Out of the blue sky, she remembered him telling her he would drive her home, and have someone pick him up. His "plans for the rest of the night" girl, no doubt. "If I'm crazy, then it's true That it's all because of you And you wouldn't want me any other way." Well, she was completely sober now, so there was no reason for him to delay his stupid plans. "You may be right I may be crazy But it just might be a lunatic You're looking for It's too late to fight It's too late to change me You may be wrong, for all I know But you may be right." The song ended, and the audience clamored for more. But Devlin just smiled as he unclipped his guitar strap. "Gotta save something for next time," he said. "You've been great, though. G'night." Everyone in the place got to their feet and rattled the silverware with their applause. It went on and on, but there were no more encores forthcoming. The band left the stage, and someone killed the spot- lights. Buffy waited for a break in the crowd as they all headed for the exits. "Did you like the music, luv?" Spike Devlin hadn't followed his band mates offstage into the rear of the club. He had jumped down from the stage again, and headed straight for Buffy, stopping only to thank anyone who praised the band. "Listen, honey," he added, shaking his damp curls back from his face, "I smell like a wet pony right now. Would you mind waiting while I grab a quick shower?" Buffy's lips parted slightly in surprise. "Wh..what?" Devlin grinned. "I want to take you out for something to eat, but if I get in a car with you like this...you'll find it pretty offensive." She looked at him. Ohhhhh....plans. He'd meant plans with her. Before she could say anything, he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. "Promise I'll be quick, luv," he said softly. "Wait for me?" "Yes," Buffy nodded, feeling ridiculously happy. "I'll wait."

Part Eleven... Good as his word, he was back in just under 10 minutes. Buffy watched him approach, her heart beating a little faster. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt that looked as though it had shrunk a size in the dryer. The sleeves in particular fit very snugly around his nicely muscled biceps. His hair was a soft mop of loose waves, still damp from his shower, and he was pulling on a short, brown leather jacket. "Ready to go?" he asked, holding out one hand. Buffy nodded. He looked, and smelled, wonderful. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to draw her to her feet. Halfway to the door, she pulled back. "Oh, wait...I need to pay the bill," she said, opening her bag. Devlin shook his head. "It's done, love. All taken care of." "By who?" Buffy asked. "By me. I told Tim to bring you anything you wanted." "Oh. Well....thank you." Those blue eyes looked into hers with definite intent. "Don't thank me yet, love," he said softly. "I'm just getting started doing things for you." The words made her blush from head to toe, but he had turned around and was pulling her along behind him and he missed it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In the rear parking area, Buffy handed him her car keys. He unlocked her door and helped her in gracefully. As she buckled herself in, he went around the front of her Camry and seated himself in the driver's seat, then adjusted it slightly. Before he turned the key in the ignition, he looked at her. "Much as I'd love taking you someplace elegant," he said, "it's late and I don't think we'll find a place like that still open, so...got any ideas?" Buffy thought for a moment. "There's a place right off the interstate that's open 24 hours. A little coffee shop," she suggested. Devlin started the car. "Sounds good to me. Just point me in the right direction." **Me, too...** ************************************************ "Tell me about Miss Buffy." They were sitting in the very back booth of Sunnydale's International House of Pancakes. Outside of a couple of long haul truck drivers, a group of giggling teenagers, and a CHP officer, they had the place pretty much to themselves. In the twenty minutes it had taken them to drive from Union Jack's to the IHOP, Buffy had learned a couple of new things about Spike Devlin. Number one...that he was a careful driver, and number two...that in spite of the fact that he made his living from rock and roll, he had very eclectic taste in music. He'd fooled around with the radio, tuning it from one station to another; jazz, soft rock, country, and even classical. Every time a station went to a commercial, he flipped to another one, then asked if she had any CDs in the car. Buffy had taken a handful of them out of the small compartment in the console, displaying them for his perusal. Surprisingly, he had chosen a Beatles CD, a collection of their biggest hits. Even though the band had broken apart years before she was born, she had always been partial to them. They had been her mother's favorite group, and Buffy had been raised with their songs as the background music for her life. Sitting and waiting for a red light to change to green, Devlin had sung along softly... "I give her all my love That's all I do And if you saw my love You'd love her, too I love her..." His fingers kept time on the steering wheel, tapping it gently. "She gives me everything And tenderly The kiss my lover brings She brings to me And I love her..." Almost hypnotized by the display, Buffy had no problem imagining him singing this song on stage. Alone...sitting on a stool with his guitar...bathed in the soft glow of a single spotlight...singing... "A love like ours Could never die As long as I have you near me.." Singing to her... "Bright are the stars that shine Dark is the sky I know this love of mine Will never die And I love her..." Buffy had been a little disappointed when he'd turned into the restaurant's parking lot. She'd have been quite happy to sit right there and listen to him forever. ********************************************** "There's not all that much to tell about Miss Buffy." "Come on...tell me something." His voice was a soft invitation, seducing her into revealing anything he might care to know. She drew a deep breath. "Miss Buffy is...a pre- school teacher. She attended UCLA...moved to Sunnydale a year ago when her best friend offered her a job teaching at her school...." Devlin chuckled. "Okay...we've covered all the basics. Now let's get down to the details." Her mouth suddenly dry, Buffy picked up her water glass and took a sip. "Such as?" He leaned forward and tilted his head. She'd noticed this gesture before. It was the kind of thing that made whomever he was talking to feel like he was hanging on their every word. "Such as, is Miss Buffy...involved...with any- one? Someone...special?" he asked. Her restless heart once again began pounding madly beneath her breast. Carefully, she placed the glass back on the table. "Not at the moment," she confessed. Devlin smiled. "Happy to hear that, love. I don't like invading another man's territory...although I will if I have to." "Territory?" Buffy asked, arching her brow. "You make me sound like the Louisiana Purchase." "No," he shook his head. "You're far more valuable than that. And," he added, lowering his voice to a deeper timbre, "far nicer to...explore." *********************************************** She was saved from having to respond to his comment by the waitress arriving with their order. The woman was no sooner gone, when Buffy discovered another new facet of this man's personality. He had a serious sweet tooth. She watched, fascinated, as he spread butter liberally over the surface of the pancakes on his plate, then in between each one as well. Choosing a bottle from the selection offered, he poured a veritable ocean of syrup over them, until they were soaked nearly to the point of falling to pieces. When he caught her staring at this spectacle, he grinned and shrugged. "I know...I'm worse than a child, aren't I? I can't help it. I've always been this way. I used to drive my mother crazy by eating my dessert before my dinner." Buffy smiled, too. Picking up the salt dispenser, she shook it lightly over the omelet she'd ordered. "I'm sure that's not the only reason you drove your mother crazy," she observed. He swallowed the bite of pancake he'd taken. "Oh, sassy," he murmured approvingly. "I love it." Buffy blushed slightly, forcing herself to maintain eye contact and not let him rattle her. After a moment, he asked, "How's your omelet?" "It's good," she said, taking another bite. "How are your...?" She gestured with her fork. "Delicious." He cut off a substantial bite. "Taste," he offered, holding the fork out. "Oh, I don't think so," she demurred. "Why not?" "Because I don't want to go into a diabetic coma." ************************************************* "...but it's really all I ever wanted to do. From the day I picked up a guitar for the first time, I knew." More than an hour had passed since they'd finished eating. Absorbed with each other, they'd paid no attention to the passing of the time, and just sat there talking. "Did you always want to be a teacher?" Buffy nodded her head. "My first day in kinder- garten? I didn't want to leave. I was in the morning session and I tried to talk my mother into letting me attend the afternoon session, too." "And did she let you?" he asked, amused. "No...she had to pull me out of the classroom to the car, dragging my feet every step of the way. My poor mother. She was so embarrassed." Devlin smiled, obviously picturing the scene in his head. Buffy saw this. "Are you laughing at me?" she demanded. "Of course I am," he admitted. "It's funny." There was light dancing in his eyes as he studied her face. "I want to tell you something," he finally said. Seeing the look on his face, she clasped her hands together on the table. "What?" "Do you know," he began, speaking in that husky voice, the voice she could FEEL, as well as hear. "that you have the sweetest mouth I've ever seen? I've been fantasizing about it since the minute I saw you." Buffy gulped down a lump in her throat, unable to speak a coherent word in the face of his dis- turbing...and arousing...remark. Devlin reached for her hand. Turning it palm up, he rubbed his thumb over the bracelet of lines circling her wrist, pressing down hard when he felt her pulse quicken. "Miss Buffy," he said softly. "I could fall in love with you...without even trying." Every nerve ending she possessed was jumping with an electric zing, just from the touch of his hand on hers. "Do you think," he added, lacing his fingers with hers, "that you could fall in love with me, too?"

Part 12.... Buffy's lips parted on a softly indrawn breath. Never in her life had a man stated his intentions so clearly, and she wasn't at all sure how to cope with it now that one had. The way he was eyeing her made her feel that this man enjoyed making her squirm by uttering out- rageous statements, then sitting back to observe her reactions. Determined not to give him the upper hand this time, she rallied herself as quickly as she could. "I...I barely know you," she stammered. "Falling in love isn't something you do in a couple of days." "Sometimes it is," he pointed out. "Sometimes it only takes hours, sometimes minutes. And sometimes," he added, stroking her wrist with his thumb, "all it takes is a moment. Just one." **Oh, I know...I KNOW..** She shook her head. "I don't know anything about you," she said, trying not to be distracted by the way he was touching her. Devlin kept up the gentle massage, smiling the smile that Buffy surmised charmed a lot of women right out of their clothing. "Ask me anything you like, love. My life is laid bare for you." He chuckled down deep in his throat. "So to speak." Buffy had a million questions to ask him...and they all disappeared from her brain at the same moment, leaving her with nothing but silly small talk. "Well...for instance...how old are you?" She wanted to take the question back the moment it came out of her mouth. Was that REALLY the best she could do? "Older than you, I'm sure," he replied, folding his hand over her palm. Was he avoiding the question? "I'm almost thirty." No, he was not. "Next question?" Okay. Next question. "Um...your favorite things? Like your favorite food?" "Chocolate cake," he answered promptly. Buffy gave him a skeptical look. "I meant real food." "Chocolate cake IS real food." "But you don't eat it for dinner," she said. "I've been known to." She wasn't a bit surprised by that. "Your favorite song?" "The ones I write. Listen," he said. "How about I save you some time? My favorite color is green. My favorite time of the year is autumn, favorite holiday is Christmas, favorite movie is...don't laugh...The Wizard of Oz. I like going to movies and reading, when I have the time. I'm difficult to get up in the morning and I'm usually late for every appointment I make. I'm concerned about the situation in the Middle East, I'm pro-choice, and I think OJ did it." It was the longest speech she'd ever heard him make, and it stunned her just a little. "Anything else? Feel free to ask." Buffy stared at him, helplessly. "What do you want from me?" He studied her face for a moment, brushing back a stray lock of her hair. Leaning just a little closer, he looked straight into her eyes, demanding that she do the same to him. "I want...to wake up in the morning with your hair spread out on my pillow," he said softly. "I want to hold you on my lap and feed you chocolate covered cherries. I want to feel your breath on my lips...and your fingers on my skin...and your body beneath me, and over me, and around me." He placed his finger under her chin and tilted her face. "I want YOU," he whispered. And...God help them all...she wanted him, too. ********************************************** His gaze locked with hers and suspended her in it's tender light. Giving her a little grin, he allowed her a moment alone to collect her thoughts while he paid the bill. When he came back and stood beside the table, Buffy grabbed her purse and jacket and scooted out of the booth. Without asking, he reached for her hand...and without hesitating, she gave it to him. A fresh breeze touched her burning cheeks as they walked slowly towards her car. When they reached their destination, Buffy waited for him to unlock the passenger side door of her car. But he did no such thing. Instead, he turned her until she was facing him. Placing his hands on the roof of the car, one on either side of her, he nudged her gently against the door with his body pressed to hers. Looking down at her, he asked, "Have you decided, yet?" She didn't try to pretend that she was unaware of what on earth he was talking about. "I...I think I could. If I let myself." "Oh, Miss Buffy," he sighed on a soft laugh. "Please let yourself." In the next moment, they came together, their lips meeting in a feverishly moist kiss. It wasn't gentle and sweet, but hard and passionate, almost bruising. Her hands were on his shoulders, his were holding her hips as their mouths worked together in a fierce exploration. Pulling back to breathe, Buffy nearly collapsed as she felt his lips travel down the length of her throat. When he came to the small hollow at it's base, he tongued it delicately. Passion rose like a tsunami, starting in the middle of the ocean with a single swell, then scaling to breathtaking heights before it crashed over them, leaving them weak in the knees and panting for air. She swallowed hard, dizzy with desire and a linger- ing insecurity. "Buffy," he breathed hotly against her skin. "I want to make love to you. Want you so much...you beautiful, beautiful girl." He kissed and nuzzled the side of her neck. "Say you want me, too." Her hands gripped him more tightly, holding on for dear life. "I do," she said weakly. "I do want you." It wasn't enough. "Say my name," he begged. "Spike," she whispered into his shirt front. "I want you...Spike." He must have been able to sense her sudden shy- ness and lack of certainty, because he stepped back and cupped her face in his hands. "Don't be frightened of me," he said. "I'll be very careful with your heart...and I promise I'll never break it."

Part 13.... Nothing in Buffy's limited experience had prepared her for this man. Sinfully handsome, wickedly sexy, and seductively charming...it was a heady combination of parts that went into the makeup of his being, and she had no idea in the world how to deal with them. Oh, but....she wanted it so badly. Wanted him....possibly more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. She felt his hands on her back, under her jacket but over her blouse. They were warm hands...strong and certain. He definitely didn't have any trouble deciding what HE wanted from this relationship. "You're thinking so hard about something," he murmured, apparently quite amused by the notion that a woman would have to think over whether or not she wanted him to touch her. "I wish I could see inside your mind...I don't suppose you'll tell me." "M..." She almost called him Mr. Devlin. Well, THAT would surely be a laugh riot, calling him Mister after those mind drugging kisses. "Spike, I....is that your real name?" Devlin sighed and pulled back slightly. "Um, no. My mother didn't take one look at me after giving birth and say "He looks like a Spike". I sort of...acquired the nickname in school, and it just....stuck." Buffy parted her lips to say something, but he placed his finger over them to hush her. "Before you ask...my given name is William. William Christopher Devlin." She looked up at him and shrugged. "Mine is Elizabeth Anne," she said, figuring it was a good idea to exchange this information. "Well," he said quietly. "It's a very pretty name, to be sure...but I kind of like Buffy, so I think I'll stay with that. If you don't mind, of course." The part of her brain that was still retaining a smattering of sanity allowed her to nod in agreement. Devlin pulled her closer. "I just love the idea of whispering," he added, leaning down and doing just that into her ear, "Buffy...you're so lovely...so soft...and sweet...Buffy..." His breath stirred the soft tendrils of her hair. "...when I make love to you." Her head tipped back and she stared at the stars as his lips caressed her ear, then her cheek, then her throat...be- fore finding hers again. Surprisingly, he didn't close his eyes this time either. He locked his gaze with hers, watching as the different expressions flickered through their green depths. He tightened his arms, and she immediately slid hers around his neck, holding on to him, keeping him where she needed him to be. When he finally pulled back, she stared at him with dazzled eyes. "Now what?" His smile was tender, almost as though he was speaking to a child. "Now...I take you home." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Buffy directed him to her house, taking the shortest route she could come up with. She wasn't quite sure why she was in such a hurry for them to arrive at her house, but she didn't question it too closely either. When he pulled into the driveway of the small two- bedroom house she was renting, he set the parking brake and turned off the ignition. Buffy's hands were clammy with nerves. She didn't know whether to stay put or run like hell and lock herself safely on the other side of her door. The click of a seat belt latch being undone sounded off in her head like a gunshot, making her jump. Be- fore she could react any further, he had leaned over and unfastened hers as well. Looking up at him, she found his gaze on her, his eyes so soft that she could taste his sweetness before his lips touched hers. "Buffy," he said, breathing warmly on her skin. "Are you...will you invite me inside, darling?" "In...inside?" she asked, her heartbeat doing wind- sprints beneath her breast. He seemed to understand everything about her without even trying to puzzle it out. "Inside your house...inside your life...inside your..." "Yes!" she yelped, cutting him off before she was so completely undone that she melted into a sugary puddle right in front of him. "Please...come inside my...my house," she said, and left it at that. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As she unlocked her front door, she could hear the small brass clock on her mantle striking the hour. One, two, three chimes.... Buffy was honestly surprised. The cliche "times flies" had never seemed quite so apropos before. She dropped her bag on the sofa, then peeled off her jacket and dumped that as well. Gathering up all of her nerve, she turned to speak to the man who had crashed into her life so abruptly, mussing it up until she didn't know if she were coming or going, up from down, day from night. "Can I...offer you anything? To drink!" she added quickly when his eyes sparked at her invitation. But he just smiled. "I'm fine, thanks," he assured her, looking about at his surroundings. "Nice house," he said, glancing at a few still unpacked cartons. "Been here long?" "Um...no, actually just about a month. Before I moved in here, I was in an apartment a few blocks away," she explained, her cheeks stained red at the idea that he might think her to be rather lazy, the type of person who couldn't organize their lives and their living space in a reasonable amount of time. Devlin nodded. "I hate moving," he said. "Although I suppose I'll have to get around to it one of these days. Get a permanent place here in the states." He grinned boyishly. "Gotta stop living out of suitcases." Buffy hated to bring up the subject. "But you're going on tour," she pointed out. "I know," he agreed. "But when it's over...I want to find a place and settle in." He paced slowly towards her. "Any suggestions on where I might do that?" His thumbs were hooked in the belt loops of his jeans, drawing her eye. "Um...well, I would guess...that is...where...where do you do most of your...your work?" she asked, purposely looking slightly to the left of him. He took in and released a deep breath. "We record in Los Angeles, right now," he said. "But that's not written in stone. You set up the right equipment, it can be any- where you want it. Sunnydale...for instance." Before she could reply, he took her hand and tugged her across the living room, then urged her to sit down on the green and blue plaid sofa she'd found at a local garage sale. "Relax, love," he said, turning her until her back was to him and placing his hands on her shoulders. "You're all....tensed up." It was a testament to her state of mind that it took her a few moments to realize that all he was doing was massaging her shoulders...rather expertly at that. His touch was gentle and direct, easing the tension from her. She could actually feel it draining away, leaving her limp and pliable. Leaning back, she sighed. "You're very good at that." "I've been on the other end of one enough times to know what I'm doing," he explained. Yeah. She just bet he had. Without consciously wanting to, she tensed again. "Well, you must have been paying attention to...whoever was doing you...doing IT!" she tacked on hastily. Spike laughed, his head dropping forward and resting on her shoulder. "Don't laugh at me," Buffy said fretfully. "I'm not, sweetheart," he replied, taking a deep breath. "I promise you, I'm not. Not in a bad, making fun of you, way. You're just so damn cute sometimes." His hands moved to her upper arms and pulled her back. "I can't resist you, you know." Tucking her hair behind one ear, he brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "You're so completely....irresistible." Standing up, he drew her to her feet, keeping her in front of him, but still facing away. As his hands moved down her arms, he placed his lips close to her ear.... "You want commitment Take a look into my eyes.." ....he sang softly. "They burn with a fire Just for you now." Reaching her hands, he took them and pulled them up until her arms were winding around the back of his neck. "Until the end of time I would do anything I'd beg...I'd steal...I'd lie To have you in these arms tonight.." When he had her arms where he wanted them, his palms slid down her body and held her by her waist. "Baby, I want you Like the roses want the rain You know I need you Like a poet needs the pain.." She had to lock her knees to keep from slipping to the floor right then and there. "I would give anything My blood, my love, my life.." Her eyes drifted closed when she felt him tugging her blouse from the waist band of her skirt. "If you were in these arms tonight I'd hold you...I'd need you I'd get down on my knees to you And make everything all right.." Buffy felt him bend his knees slightly, then press his front more intimately against her back. She could feel the hardness of his arousal rubbing against her bottom. "If you were in these arms I'd love you...I'd please you I'd tell you that I'd never leave you And love you...till the end of time.." His fingers came up to begin undoing her blouse. One button....then two...then three....then..... "If you were in these arms tonight..." That voice like rough velvet, singing only to her. It was really happening. He was seducing her with his voice while he undressed her with his hands. "We stared at the sun, and we made a promise A promise this world would never bind us.." Her blouse slipped down her arms, falling to the floor to lie in a champagne colored puddle at her feet. Devlin's hands moved slowly back up her arms, caressing her skin. His fingers slipped under the straps of her tank top. "These are my words Our words are our songs Our songs are our prayers Our prayers keep me strong.." Each strap was eased down off her shoulders. In- stead of slipping them all the way off, though, his hands moved back to her waist, encircling it, moving her ever so slightly to the sensuous cadence of his voice as it purred in her ear. "It's what I believe If you were in my arms tonight.." Still holding her waist, he stepped around in front of her. One hand then moved up to unfasten the clip holding her hair back. He dropped the barrette onto the coffee table, and then his fingers delved deep into her hair, mussing all it's tidy perfection. He played gently with the soft strands, dragging his fingers through it slowly. "Your clothes are scattered all over our room And everything smells like your lovely perfume.." He took her hands again, raising them both to his lips and kissing them, never breaking eye contact. "Everything here reminds me of you And there's nothing I wouldn't do To be in your arms.." He began to back up towards the stairs. She followed, with no thought of doing anything else...completely his at that moment. When they reached the first riser, he surprised her again by turning her around and sitting her on the third step. His hands moved down and lifted the hem of her skirt, easily relieving her of her footwear. "I'll hold you...I need you I'll get down on my knees for you.." And, to her shock, he did just that. Dropped down to his knees and leaned forward, urging her back into a lying position, careful not to press her down hard into the carpeted edge of the step. Catching himself on his outstretched arms, he moved just a fraction closer until their lower bodies came into contact. Buffy gasped, raggedly. Devlin's eyes closed briefly as he savored the contact. When he opened them again, they seemed to be an even deeper blue than ever, like dark sapphires with a flame flickering in their centers. "I'll love you....I'll please you I'll tell you that I'll never leave you.." Judging by the amount of difficulty she was having herself, she didn't know how he was managing to produce the lovely sounds coming from his throat. Lifting her own hands, she placed them on his cheeks, feeling the fine arch of his bone structure. Her fingertips danced down, touching briefly at his lips. "Buffy," he whispered, kissing the soft pads of her fingers. "I want you. Right now, darling." He wanted her....and she wanted him. Did anything else in the world matter at all? "I'll love you till the end of time..." Smiling down at her, he suddenly straightened and scooped her up off the stairs, carrying her the rest of the way up. "When you're in my arms...tonight.." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part Fourteen.... Buffy directed him to her bedroom, thankful that at least one room in her house was fully put together. Spike stepped over the threshold and set her on her feet. Sliding one arm around her waist, he pulled her body flush against his and lowered his mouth to capture hers. Melting like chocolate in hot sunshine, Buffy offered no resistance. She participated fully in the experience, slipping her arms around his back and hugging him fiercely close. When she finally had to break away to breathe, she tried to think of something to say to fill the silence. Something terribly sophisticated and seductive. "I...I should brush my teeth," was what came out of her mouth. **Oh, for....** She made a face at the inane comment she'd just uttered. He didn't seem to mind. "If you want to, by all means," he said, releasing her. "But don't do it on my account." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ **Brilliant...just brilliant..** Buffy glared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Sophisticated and seductive. Yeah, right. She was the ANTI-seductive champion of the world at that moment. Spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste, she rinsed her brush and placed it back in it's holder with absurd care, then filled a cup with water and added a small amount of mouthwash. After she spat it into the sink, she ran the water to clean the basin. She brushed her hair and dried her face on a towel. When there was nothing left to do in the bathroom outside of the obvious...and she wasn't about to do THAT with him in her bedroom, able to hear every- thing...she flicked off the bathroom light and opened the door. Peering nervously into the dim light of her bedside lamp, she saw him sitting on the end of her bed. His jacket was tossed on the back of a padded armchair, with his scuffed boots on the floor next to it. As she watched, he reclined back on the bed. Leaning on one elbow, he raised his free hand and beckoned her with one finger, displaying the universal sign that said "Come on over here." Ordering her feet to quit being such scaredy-cats, she approached the bed. When her knees made contact with the mattress, she started to climb on...only to be stopped by his voice. "Will you do something for me?" he asked, his eyes moving up and down her body. She would do pretty much anything for him right then, so she nodded yes. Moving a little ways back on the bed, he smiled. "Take your shirt off," he requested, his voice husky. Buffy hesitated for a moment, then crossed her arms over herself and grasped the hem of her tank top in both hands. She peeled the snug material away from her skin, then over her head and off. She stood before him, clad in her wraparound skirt, and her strapless bra...a little confection made of cream lace and satin. One of her deepest passions was beautiful lingerie, and she had a vast collection of it in her bureau. Everything from tiny lace thongs, to camisoles and tap pants, to snug fitting teddies, to garter belts and fancy stockings. In many different colors and fabrics, she was a one woman Victoria's Secret catalog. Since it was her only true needless indulgence, she indulged every chance she got. She only bought the best, and if the expression on Devlin's face was anything to judge by, he appreciated the effort. "That's very pretty," he said, with that killer smile on his good looking face. "Is there more?" Well, yes, there WAS actually. His eyes were riveted on her as she undid the hook of her skirt, unwrapping her wraparound and letting it fall to the floor. Devlin drew in a harsh breath at the sight she pre- sented him. The matching panties to her bra clung to her hips, secured only by tiny, flimsy satin ribbons. Her stockings were thigh-highs, held up by a decorative band of elastic lace and nothing else. "You are, hands down, the sexiest looking thing I've ever laid eyes on," he swore, his gaze burning with a new heat. Buffy blushed at the compliment. It couldn't possibly be true, since he no doubt had contact with beautiful women every hour on the hour, but it was pretty nice to hear, just the same. It was as though he could read her mind. "You think I'm just saying that, don't you," he asked. She did...but she couldn't very well admit it to him. Playing it safe, she just shrugged. "I'm gonna prove it to you." He rose to his knees and walked on them to the foot of the bed. Placing his hands on her waist, he bent his head and nuzzled the soft flesh of her abdomen. Buffy's own knees wobbled. The feel of his lips pressing slow, moist kisses on her skin, was just...magical. Seemingly on their own, she watched her fingers thread into his silky blond hair. She stifled an urge to pinch herself and make sure she wasn't in the middle of an erotic dream...AGAIN...and played with the unruly curls. He startled her by straightening up suddenly. Looking directly into her eyes, he reached behind her and searched for the hooks that held her bra. Unable to locate them, he frowned. "Um..I can't..." Buffy took his hands and brought them back around her front, taking them to the place hidden beneath a small satin rosebud in the middle of the garment. A slow, hot smile began to tug at the corners of his lips. "Handy," he murmured, twisting the clasp open. "It's hard to believe...being who you are and all...that you've never seen a front closing bra before," she said. He just laughed a little. "I've had a very sheltered life," he teased. Letting the bra fall on the floor behind her, he placed his hands over the lush curves of her bare breasts, squeezing them gently. "Oh!" Buffy gasped as he fondled her. Unaware of it, she leaned forward, pushing her flesh more firmly into the warm palms of his hands. He explored every inch of her, massaging the soft mounds, sweeping his thumbs back and forth on her nipples. "Such a lovely shade of pink," he mused, tugging gently on the the tight peaks. Buffy was rapidly scaling a height she'd never reached before. He started at the base of her breasts and then squeezed them all the way up to her engorged nipples. It was a sensuous caress, almost a milking motion. She could feel her body responding with pleasure, expelling moisture into her underwear as her sex contracted with every pull of his hands. He moved harder and faster, making her whimper in the most amazing torture he could devise. Before she knew what was about to happen, she felt an orgasmic rush shooting through her loins. Buffy couldn't believe what had just happened, and it took her a moment to process it. Devlin seemed to know without any sort of in- depth analysis. "You're so responsive," he murmured in amazement. "God....you came...just from me caressing your breasts." She couldn't summon up the energy to be em- barrassed by her lack of control. "Uh-huh," was all she could say. He grinned a delighted grin. "I can't wait to see what you do when I lick and suck them." Just HEARING that sentence nearly brought on an immediate encore. "Um...I need to sit down." **Before I FALL down** she wanted to add, but didn't. "All right, love," he said, pulling her forward until she was on the bed and kneeling in front of him. "But let me taste first." Cupping her breasts from beneath, he lifted them in his palms and lowered his head. His tongue darted out, playfully flicking each pink bud. Buffy looked down to watch as he moved back and forth from one breast to the other, giving each one his devoted attention. It was an erotic sight, and it felt better than just about anything she'd felt before, but it was getting to the point where she needed something more. Something like..... He pushed her breasts together, looking up at her as he lapped them with his tongue. "Do you want me to suck them?" he asked, his face buried in her cleavage. Oh, yes, that was it. His teeth nipped at her, then he opened his mouth and took her right breast in. Sucking hard, he nursed at her aching flesh. With soft moans of pleasure erupting from him, he swirled his tongue around the nipple as he kept sucking. When he had her the way he wanted her, he moved, dragging his tongue wetly to her other breast and taking it deeply into his mouth. Holding it there, he sucked as his hands left her breasts and moved down her sides to her hips. With- out releasing her breast, he found and tugged the little satin ribbons that held up her panties. He pulled them from between her thighs, then dropped them and replaced them with his hand. Indicating that he wanted her to widen her knees, he wedged his hand in and cupped her firmly, giving her a gentle squeeze. His mouth released her nipple with a wet suck as he fumbled with the front of his jeans. Buffy heard the snap pop open and the zipper slide down. Then he straightened up and took her hand, guiding it into the opening of his trousers. "Touch me," he whispered. She wrapped her fingers around the hard velvet length of him, taking it out of his pants. She couldn't help staring for a moment, and she blushed when he caught her doing it. "Well?" he asked, his eyes dancing with light. Well. Well, indeed. His thick, straining erection was as beautiful as the rest of him. It throbbed in her hand and moistened her fingers with a clear fluid that seeped from the head. Instinct was the only explanation for it when her hand began to slide up and down. Spike whipped his t-shirt off while his hips moved back and forth, his shaft gliding through her wet fingers. It only lasted a few moments before he had to pull out of her grasp. "Oh, Christ," he moaned, in a delirium of both agony and it's counterpart. "If...you have to stop or I'm gonna come." When he managed to calm himself back down a bit, he met her eyes and smiled, taking hold of her shoulders. "Come here and lie down," he said turning her in his arms and easing her down on the bed. "And I'll take you to the stars and back."

Part Fifteen..... His promise sent a shiver of anticipation racing up and down her spine, and she had no doubt that he could keep it. Hovering over her on his hands and knees, Devlin dipped his head and kissed her. His tongue coaxed her lips apart and plunged between them, feeling it's way around the inside of her mouth. Buffy's head immediately began to swim dizzily around the room. Good lord, this man knew how to kiss! With his tongue thrusting deeply, it was long and slow, and very wet. He pulled back just enough for their lips to separate, but their tongues continued to play outside of their mouths, flicking at each other. Shifting his weight onto one hand, he brought the other up and cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing the sensitive nipple. When he pinched it gently between thumb and forefinger, Buffy nearly lost contact with the bed. Finally taking his mouth from hers, he smiled. "I think you liked that." "I..think so, too!" "Shall I do it again?" "Yes, please." He chuckled. "So polite." His fingers continued their tender torture, making Buffy writhe and pant beneath him. Devlin lowered his head. "Buffy?" he breathed warmly in her ear. "Touch me, baby. I want your hands on me." She forced her eyes to open, and stared dreamily up into his beautiful face. Placing her hands on his waist, she flattened them and ran them around and up the smooth skin of his back. When she dug her nails in gently, dragging them down his spine, he hissed in through his teeth and arched his back. "God...do it again," he begged. Buffy did...luxuriating in the feminine power over him that he was giving her so willingly. Deciding on a change of venue, she slipped her hands back around and explored the firm muscle of his chest. Her fingers skimmed lightly over the flat copper nipples, making them tighten. After letting her play for a moment, he dropped a light kiss on her lips. "Don't go away," he whispered, lifting himself off her and standing in order to get rid of his trousers. Moonlight streamed in through the curtains, painting his body in a silver wash of light. He was lean and well built, with a firm layer of muscle over his abdomen. His biceps were nicely defined, not over- blown like so many mens were. There wasn't an ounce of fat anywhere on him, which seemed odd considering the sort of diet he existed on. He was, in a word, beautiful. Beautifully made, and beautifully hard. His erection extended straight out from his body, and there was a pearly drop of semen at the very tip. Spike kicked his jeans off, then looked at her. She smiled and held out her arms. Without a moment of hesitation, he fell into them. He kissed her, then pulled back to look into her eyes. "I'm falling, Miss Buffy," he said softly. "Will you fall, too? Will you, baby?" How could she not? "Yes," she nodded. "I will. I....I have." Devlin's eyes blazed with new heat. "Oh...me, too," he told her. "Baby...me, too." "Really?" she asked in a tiny voice. "Really." He kissed her again, then nuzzled the side of her neck. "Buffy...sweetheart," he whispered, "I'm gonna make long....slow....sweet love to you. I'm gonna touch you...and taste you...and make every part of your body quiver. And when I'm inside you...oh, I'll be in heaven, darling." Buffy was pretty certain she'd be right there with him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He moved down her body at a leisurely pace, not about to be rushed through this experience..no matter how much her breathy sighs of pleasure urged him on. His tongue darted out, lightly touching here, then caressing there, leaving a moist trail in it's wake. Over her breasts, lingering on the tips, swirling around them until they were diamond hard. Down the middle of her chest, then over to taste both under curves of her breasts. He drew a line down over her abdomen, then flicked his tongue in her navel, chuckling softly when she twitched and uttered something that sounded like "yeesh!" After rubbing his cheek against the soft swell of her belly, he continued down. The light brown curls guarding her sex were neatly trimmed, and he nuzzled her there, his nose taking in the scent of her excitement. Slipping down a little further on the bed, he gently pushed her legs further apart. She tensed suddenly, and he looked up at her. "What, baby?" he asked. She seemed unable to articulate whatever was crossing her mind, so he took an educated guess. "No one's ever done this for you, have they?" Buffy blushed and shook her head. It was all he could do to keep from shouting out loud in triumph. Just knowing that he would be the man to teach her about this aspect of love- making exhilarated him. "Just relax, baby," he coaxed her, massaging her inner thigh with one hand. "Just let it happen." When she began to soften under his touch, her thighs parted invitingly. Before Buffy knew what was happening, his head dipped and she felt the wet stroke of his tongue. He licked her hard, then soft. Fast, then slow. Stars were bursting behind her tightly closed eyes. Going super-nova. Exploding into particles and fragments of particles. Making her shudder and twist in his gentle hands. When she finally had the presence of mind to open her eyes, she looked down and saw that he was watching her face, studying her response. It must have pleased him, because he pulled away for a moment and gave her one of his devilish grins. "This is the sweet spot," he said, then lowered his head again and began to suck at her clit. Buffy inhaled sharply, her hands grabbing fistfuls of bedding. She had never in her life imagined that anything could be this good. His tongue working over her was the most erotic sensation she'd ever known. The moisture he was drawing out of her seemingly had no end, and he lapped it up with hungry groans. Still maintaining eye contact, he slowly slipped his tongue into her...then out....then back in again. She was coming apart at the seams, her entire body straining beneath the lash of his tongue. Blindly, she groped around and sank her fingers into his hair, forcing him down harder on her needy flesh. His tongue being otherwise occupied, he spoke to her with his eyes. ** Do you like that, baby? Does it feel good? You taste so sweet...so ripe and juicy...should I go harder? Faster? Deeper? Anything for you, baby. Absolutely anything. You want more? So do I. Want to make you wet...make you come. Do it. Come on, baby...let it happen. It's gonna taste so sweet, and I want every drop. I can feel how close you are. That's my girl. Now....scream for me...** Unable to hold out, Buffy gave him what he wanted. She raised her hips and stiffened all over, coming in a burning wave of pure liquid heat, screaming her pleasure to the stars he had promised to show her.

Part Seventeen.... He was just barely inside of her when he stopped. Looking perplexed for a moment, the realization of what he was feeling slowly dawned on him. Shocked surprise followed, and was itself followed by a staggering sense of responsibility. "Buffy," he breathed, leaning down to speak softly in her ear. "This is another first for you....isn't it, love?" Trying to parcel out whether he was pleased or horrified at the whole idea, Buffy was too embarrassed to force out a verbal affirmative, and had to settle for nodding in jerky little movements. She had been hoping right up until he penetrated her that she could get away with it. Hoping that if she seemed eager enough, and put on a "woman of experience" bluff, he might not notice until it was too late for him to stop. Well, THAT plan had just blown up in her face. He had stopped. Question was....would he continue? If she'd been able to divine his thoughts at the moment, she'd find that she had nothing to worry about. There wasn't a chance in the world that he was going to stop now. He would wait a moment, give her time to adjust....and then make her his. Raising his head, he smiled at her. "Open your beautiful eyes, baby," he coaxed her sweetly. "Don't be shy." When she did as he'd asked, he could read every emotion that she was feeling, could see it all in the light green pools that were begging silently for his under- standing. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, brushing her tangled hair back with one hand. "Don't be frightened. I'm going to be very gentle, I promise, and try very hard not to hurt you...any more than I have to." Buffy returned his smile, tremulously. He wasn't going to stop...wasn't going to leave her...wasn't put off by the knowledge that she was a twenty-five year old virgin. Devlin wasn't put off in the slightest. He was actually having a difficult time controlling the rush of possessiveness, coupled with an anticipatory thrill that came of knowing he was the first to breach the walls that this beautiful creature had been living behind. For her part, Buffy wanted it to be done. She wanted to know and experience all the things romance novels promised, wanted to put an end to her blasted virginity once and for all. And she wanted Spike Devlin to be the one to do it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Are you sure about this, sweetheart?" Some weird impulse of chivalry made him ask the question. After it was out of his mouth, though, he wanted to take it back. What if she said no? What the hell would he do then? If he was forced to leave the paradise he had found in her body, he would expire right there in her arms. He had no doubt that any denial at this moment would cause his innards to implode, leaving him in such a state of frustrated agony that he'd be begging to die. **All right, maybe that's laying it on a bit thick But it won't be fun, that's for DAMN sure..** "I'm sure," Buffy whispered, saving him from his gloomy imaginings. "I've been sure...I think...from the first time I saw you." That was ALL he had to hear! His arousal hadn't abated in the smallest degree during their little intermission. He was hard and ready, and she was extremely wet. "Try and relax, love," he said soothingly. "Start with your toes and move up." She followed his advice, going slowly up and up, a bit at a time. When the calm reached her thighs, they loosened up and parted even more. Devlin took immediate advantage. He gradually slid in a little deeper, then back, then deeper again. The sensation was nearly excruciating. The warmth and the tightness was unbelievable, and he had to concentrate on not thrusting into her with wild abandon. When he felt her nails scoring his back, he dipped his head and took her lips in a long, open-mouthed kiss. Need for air became an issue, and Buffy pulled back, gasping for it. "Please," she whispered on a raggedly indrawn breath. "Spike....don't be gentle. Be fast." A groan of assent escaped him, and he adjusted his position and buried himself completely inside her. Once he was in, he fought for a modicum of control and remained quite still, catching her scream in his mouth. Buffy's nails dug deeper, almost drawing blood. The pain was as bad as she'd imagined, but she forged her way through it just the same. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "I know I'm hurting you, honey." She could hardly deny it. The scream had pretty much given her away. "It's all right," she panted in his ear. "It's...getting better." He pulled back and looked at her. "Really?" "Yeah," she nodded, putting all the sincerity she could summon up into her voice and expression. "Just give me a minute....or two." Devlin was running on instinct at that point. He'd never been a girl's first lover before, and the only thing he could think to do was to try and distract her until the pain abated. "All right," he said agreeably. "Can I kiss you while we're waiting?" Buffy cupped his face in her hands, smiling at the shy request. "Oh, I wish you would," she replied softly, drawing him down to her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Catching her cheek, he kissed the sweet curve of her lips, penetrating her mouth with his tongue. Buffy moaned and tunneled her fingers up through his silky curls, making his kiss harder and deeper. He could feel the extreme tightness begin to ease up, making her no less snug, but far more accessible. Gently...slowly...he moved his hips from side to side. Devlin moved his hand from her face, trailing it down the side of her body in a teasingly light caress. When he reached her outer thigh, he lifted himself just a small amount, just enough to allow his hand to slip in between them. When she felt the touch of his fingers, her eyes flew open wide and stared up into his. Their mouths separated, and Buffy arched her back. "Oh...oh, God," she whimpered, helpless beneath the assault of pleasure. His mouth hovered above hers, absorbing her breathy sighs. "S..soon, love?" he begged, unsure just how much longer he could hold himself back. She helped him. Her hands moved down his back to clutch at the firm muscle of his rump. "Now," she breathed hotly. He began moving, each gentle thrust burying him deeper into her body as well as her heart. Although there was a lingering ache between Buffy's legs, the sharpness of the initial pain had begun to fade. As it left, she was able to concentrate on the other sensations her body was telegraphing to her brain. Every time he entered her, he rubbed himself in just the right spot, creating the most delicious friction exactly where she needed it. Her sex felt fluid and hot, almost heavy with the need to...the need for... Unknowingly, she raised her legs and wrapped them around his hips as he increased his rhythm. He kissed her once more, quick and hard. "Baby...oh, sweetheart," he murmured. "Are you all right? Is it good?" He leaned on one arm and moved his free hand around to hold her soft bottom, fondling it and squeezing it firmly as he lifted her into his down- strokes. It was so good now that she didn't know how to articulate it. The pain had turned to pleasure and the pleasure was all encompassing. How had she lived without this? He didn't seem to expect an answer, and he kept moving his hips in that slow, rolling wave of motion. "Baby...you feel so good," he said, locking her gaze with his own. "So wet and tight...and so bloody hot. Never been like this...never... you're the one...." Buffy couldn't hold back a soft cry of his name. Devlin's eyes burned with new heat at the sound. "You're the one, Buffy," he said again, pumping a little faster. "You're all I want...all....I...want..." Obeying her instincts one more time, she unwrapped her legs from around him and planted her feet flat on the mattress, then lifted her hips up into him, meeting each increasingly strong and demanding thrust. He went wild, growling deep in his throat, pumping faster and harder. Burying his face against the side of her neck, he felt the beginning of her climax. "Do it, baby...come for me...I want to feel it...make it tighter, love...that's perfect...yes...so sweet...my beauty...my star...unh...unh...now, love....now....do it now....now....Buffy....AHHH...NOWWWW!" Her moisture slickened him as he drenched her womb with a flood of semen. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The act of love...performed with love. It was better than anything he'd ever dreamed of. AN: I know, I know. Buffy's a virgin. Again. I can't help it. I like writing about Spike being her first lover, I don't know why.... One more thing: Yes, they didn't use a condom. There's a reason for that. So, I need you to suspend belief and forget AIDS exists. And I don't mean to offend anyone by asking you to pretend there is no AIDS. Believe me, I wish it was that simple, too.

Part Eighteen.... "I just now thought of something." Buffy opened her eyes and found him lying beside her, his head propped on his hand. "What's that?" she asked. "Birth control. Are you angry?" How could she be angry? She hadn't thought of it either. Until now... "I'm sorry," he said. Buffy met his gaze straight on. "You don't really look all that sorry," she informed him. Spike couldn't deny it, and no one was more surprised by that fact than he was himself. He'd had his share of brief relationships and even a few one night stands, but he was always careful to provide protection. With Buffy, though...it had been the absolute furthest thing from his mind. All he'd been able to think about was her, about how beautiful and sweet she was, and how badly he'd wanted her. He wouldn't have been able to stop and fumble around with a condom if his life had depended on it. He wanted a family someday, had always planned on having one...when he met the right woman. The right woman.... Was she here with him now? Lying beside him, looking at him with heavenly green eyes, in a room scented with the fragrance of perfume and sex. Yes. This had to be her. He wouldn't be nearly as calm and relaxed discussing the possible consequences of unprotected intercourse with any other woman. Buffy would be a spectacular mother. All you had to do was watch her for five minutes with her little students to know that. Tenderness and caring for them emanated from her in huge amounts. An incredible feeling of good fortune washed over him. How lucky could one guy get? He was in bed with a woman that he was falling in love with by leaps and bounds. She was beautiful and sexy, and sweetly innocent at the same time. A face that was cameo perfect...and a body that could stop traffic. With a wealth of golden brown hair for his fingers to get lost in, and the softest skin he'd ever touched...she was perfect. Add on the fact that she made him laugh just by being herself, and that she loved kids, and he was brought all the way back to his original question; How lucky could one guy get? He placed his hand lightly on her stomach, rubbing it gently. What if there was already a child growing inside of her? She was young and healthy, and no doubt fertile. There was no reason why a baby couldn't have been conceived. He'd certainly done HIS part, he decided, grinning arrogantly. He couldn't ever remember being so turned on and coming so hard....and so much. Yes, she was probably.... "You don't need to worry," she said, placing her hand over his. "It's not the right time of the month for that to happen." Oh. Oh, well....it was most likely for the best. That wasn't a good way to hold on to a woman. A baby should be planned for, by a husband and wife. He had very strong opinions on that subject, disliking the casual relationships that he saw so much of in his profession. There were a lot of people in his immediate circle of friends and acquaintances that had more than one child without ever bothering to get married. It wasn't going to be that way for him. He wanted the entire package...the bride, the house with the picket fence, the dog and cat....and the little ones. Someday. ********************************************** Buffy turned on her side, wincing slightly from the ache between her legs. Her cheeks turned pink at the sticky feel of her thighs peeling apart. This losing of one's virginity was not all moonlight and roses, no matter what the romance novels touted. Although painful at first, the sex itself had become wonderful, and the pleasure she'd felt was everything she'd dreamed it would be. The aftermath, though, was a different story. The lingering soreness, and the messy feel of their mingled fluids wasn't heaven on earth. But looking into the dark blue eyes of the man who'd taught her the meaning of sexual desire, she couldn't have cared less about the discomfort. And she was eager to learn more. "What are you thinking about?" she asked him. He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Just about you, luv. Did I hurt you?" Buffy could hardly lie about it. "It hurt at first, but you made it better." She placed one hand on his cheek, smiling when he turned his head and kissed her palm. "I guess I should have told you." He raised one eyebrow. "Why didn't you?" When she couldn't seem to find an answer, he provided one. "Did you think that I wouldn't want you if I knew ahead of time that you were a virgin?" Buffy smiled ruefully. It seemed kind of silly to hear it out loud. Devlin chuckled. "I'll tell you the truth," he said. "I've wanted you from the second I laid eyes on you. The way you tossed your head and gave me that 'who the hell do you think YOU are' look. Ignoring me, then ordering me to get back up on stage and stop pestering you." "Not used to women telling you to go away, are you?" Buffy asked. "Hell, no," he admitted. "But that's just one of the reasons I came after you." He wrapped one lock of her hair around his finger, rubbing it with his thumb. "When I saw you at the school the next day...I knew I was right to come looking. You absolutely knocked me out, ya know? Watching you play with the kids...then seeing you stomping across the yard to give me all kinds of hell." Buffy remembered it, too. She'd never forget. "I'll tell you a secret," he said, leaning closer. "When you were telling me off that day...I wanted to grab hold of you and throw you over my shoulder, carry you to my car, kicking and screaming. Just disappear with you....and make love to you for days and days." She felt her heart rate speed up. "And someday?" he added. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do." The scenario he'd just described sounded mightily appealing to Buffy. "Well," she said, returning his smile, "when you do...I don't think I'll be kicking and screaming." Moving closer still, he leaned down to kiss her. "Don't say that, yet," he murmured. "I think I can make you scream...just a bit." ************************************************ Before their lips came together, the clock radio clicked on and startled them apart. ".....gonna be a nice one today, with highs in the lower 80s inland, and the mid 70s at the beach, but temperatures will drop in the early part of next...." Buffy turned and banged on top of the gadget until it shut up. "Sorry," she said, facing him again. Spike peered at the red digital numbers. "It's Saturday," he said. "Why in the world do you have that set for 5:30 in the bloody A.M.?" Pushing her hair back out of her eyes, she made a face. "I usually go to the gym," she confessed. He flopped over onto his back. "You've gotta be kidding me," he said, looking up at her. "You're not gonna do it today...are you?" Buffy was about to say no, when a little devil with a pitchfork prodded her. "I really should. I go three days a week." "Can't you go tomorrow?" "But that would break my routine," she answered. Devlin took a deep breath, preparing to argue until he got his way. "Oh, come on. Live danger- ously." "You could come with me," Buffy suggested. "I can bring a guest." "At THIS hour of the morning?" He shook his head firmly. "No, thanks." Buffy shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said, turning to roll out of bed. Before she could slip away, he grabbed her arm and hauled her back down. "Baby, you don't need to go the gym," he informed her, a wicked light dancing in his eyes. "I can give you a proper work- out right here." She melted under the heat of his gaze. "Can you?" "Oh, yeah," he assured her, moving her beneath him. "I'll give you all the...exercise...you can handle, little girl." Buffy pretended to consider the offer. "Well...all right. But I have to take a shower first." He just grinned at her. "Lead the way."

Part nineteen.... "Buffy...oh, Christ, baby...you're so tight...so hot...sweet...yes...there...there..." Morning sunlight streamed into the kitchen, with tiny dust motes dancing in it. Spike's hands held her securely around her waist, keeping her from sliding backwards on the Formica counter as he pounded into her. She held on by wrapping her fingers around the hard muscle of his biceps. Almost delirious with pleasure, Buffy had to release her hold on him and place her hands on the counter, slightly behind her. With her legs encircling his waist, she could lift herself to meet every deep thrust. When her head tipped back and exposed her creamy throat, he lunged forward and licked it from the hollow at it's base, all the way up to the point of her chin. Seeking the moist sweetness of her lips, he kissed her hard, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Wanting to get closer...needing to go deeper, he curved his right arm around her waist and pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. Then, urging her to lie down all the way, he slipped his hands beneath her thighs, lifting her bottom until it lost contact with any hope of support except him. His eyes were shut tight with concentration as he pumped harder and faster. Sex had never been this good before. With Buffy, he felt like he was sliding into warm cream, and lying against soft pillows. Her body was so responsive to his lightest touch that it excited him past the point of coherent thought. Whenever he put his hands on her, the rest of the world fell away into a void he had no interest in searching for. Everything he wanted was right here...here in this sun-warmed little kitchen. He drove himself into her, harder and deeper, listening to the soft moans and half whispered words coming from her throat. He opened his eyes and found her staring up at him in amazed wonder. It was a breathtaking sight. Her skin was damp and flushed a light shade of pink, and her green eyes were glassy. The heavy wealth of her honey brown hair was spread beneath her like a halo. She was absolutely the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "I'm...I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked. Buffy shook her head, no. It wasn't enough. "Tell me," he insisted. "Tell me how it feels for you." She didn't really know what to say, being unskilled in the art of "pillow talk", and too shy to use the descriptive words he'd been saying to her. He tried to help her. "Does it feel good, babe? Do you like what I'm doing to you?" Now, there was a question she could answer! "Yes," she nodded. "I love...it. I do....." Sliding his hands beneath her back, he lifted her up. "Hang on, love," he directed, moving backwards and sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs. Amazed that he'd been able to perform this maneuver without breaking their connection, Buffy quickly discovered that this new position had definite advantages. With her sitting on his lap and facing him, she could balance her feet on the rungs of the chair and lift herself up and down. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he buried his face against her soft throat, kissing and licking it as she bounced on his lap. His mouth found hers, and they kissed with passionate intensity. His tongue delved deeply into her mouth, tasting the softness of her inner cheeks and dancing on the edges of her small, white teeth. Bodies pressed close, they rocked together, groaning and panting with every deep, gliding thrust. Buffy was close...so close to the spectacular finish he'd been priming her for. Her fingertips moved over the smooth flesh of his shoulders and up his neck, finally meeting around his face. He kissed and nipped at the soft pads, sucking each finger and swirling his tongue around it. His hands suddenly moved down, briefly squeezing her breasts before they found her waist. Lifting her just a little, he began to slam his hips up harder and faster. Her breathing became ragged and sharp, and she clutched at his shoulders again, hanging on. Their eyes met, and stayed locked on each other. Buffy came first, her hips grinding down hard on him as her sex milked him in violent spasms, demanding every drop he had to give her. She cried out his name, and fisted her hands in his hair almost to the point of pain. Devlin's control snapped. Taking a tighter hold on her, he began pumping even harder, gliding wetly in and out of her. Shouting hoarsely, he came, spurting what felt like a gallon of semen up inside of her. When it was over, their breathing began to slow and the sweat began to dry upon them. Nuzzling the side of her face, he laughed a little. "Didn't we come down here for breakfast?" Buffy smiled. "What was that we just had?" "Call it an appetizer," he replied, kissing her cheek with a loud smack. "I'm starved. Want to go out to eat?" She sat back and shook her head. "No. I want to dazzle you with my skill in the kitchen." Grinning at her lecherously, he said, "Consider me dazzled, gorgeous. Or...was that not the skill you were referring to?" "Very funny," she said. Giving him a slight shove, she looked around the floor. "Where did you throw my bathrobe?" "Who knows?" he muttered, rubbing his chest against her bare breasts. "Who cares? Hey...come back here." "Oh, no you don't." She dodged away from his reach- ing hand and scrambled off his lap. Their bodies separated with a moist, sucking sound, and they both made a face. "Sorry about that," he said, sounding not the least bit sorry at all. "Bit messy, huh?" Buffy snagged her robe and shoved her arms into it, feeling suddenly embarrassed about being naked in the kitchen. She excused herself to the bathroom, promising to fix him breakfast when she returned. Halfway up the stairs, she heard him. "Drop dead gorgeous, sweet and funny, loves kids, and she cooks, too!" he yelled. "Now I KNOW I'm falling, Miss Buffy!" She almost walked into the bathroom without replying, then gathered up all her courage and leaned over the landing. "Me, too!" she yelled back, diving into the bathroom and locking the door when she heard him mutter some- thing under his breath and come running up the stairs. **************************************************** She took great pains with her breakfast preparations, grateful that she actually had the food she wanted on hand. After starting the coffee maker, she pulled a large cast iron skillet out of a lower cupboard. Dropping in a spoonful of cooking oil, she sliced potatos and onions into the pan, frying them until the potatos were a golden brown, and the onions translucent.. When they were finished, she put the skillet in the oven to keep warm, and cracked a half a dozen eggs into her large blue mixing bowl. Adding a little milk, she whisked the egg mixture around until it was frothy, then melted butter in another skillet and poured the eggs in. Devlin sat and watched every move she made, asking questions and pestering her until she put him in charge of making toast to give him something to do with his wandering hands. She set the table with her grandmother's china and crystal, placing a chilled carafe of orange juice in the middle. When the eggs began to set, she scrambled them to a fluffy turn and spooned them onto a serving plate. Spike buttered toast, and searched through the fridge for jam. He found three different kinds, and placed all of them on the table. Buffy removed the skillet from the oven and placed it on a trivet next to the juice container. Placing her crystal salt and pepper shakers within easy reach, she poured two mugs of coffee and grabbed her sugar bowl. Before he sat down, Spike looked out the window and immediately headed for the door. Barefoot, wearing only his jeans, he snapped off a yellow rose from a bush in her next door neighbor's yard, then ran back in the house and presented it to her. Well, she had to kiss him for it, and she did...quite thoroughly. Placing the rose in a glass of water, she announced that breakfast was served. Spike pulled out a chair with a continental flourish. Taking her hand, he seated her gracefully, then kissed her fingers before he sat down next to her. They talked of inconsequential things while they ate. He told her about where he'd grown up...some- where in the southern part of England, and she in turn revealed a few things about her own childhood. He ate every scrap of food on his plate, praising it lavishly, and telling her that, while her skills in the kitchen were definitely not limited to the culinary, he certainly appreciated them at the moment. Snitching the last piece of toast off her plate, he slathered it with a thick layer of boysenberry jam. Buffy poured more coffee into his mug, smiling when he dumped three large spoons of sugar into it. She sipped her own lightly sweetened coffee, and considered the fact that for someone with his sugar laden eating habits, there wasn't an ounce of superfluous flesh anywhere on him. He was trim and lean, and very well built, and she had to force herself not to stare rudely at his bare chest. It was really...really...difficult to do. *************************************************** When the mantle clock in her living room chimed three, they were stretched out on her sofa kissing...making out was what she would have called it in high school...and they were both having a difficult time controlling themselves. "Damn it," he swore softly, looking at the little clock as though he hated it. "I have to go. We're having a rehearsal today...some new material we're trying out on the tour." Although he ordered himself to stand up and move away from her, the sight of her kiss-reddened lips drew him back for more. A few moments later, Buffy pulled away. "I thought you had to go," she reminded him, holding him off with one hand on his chest. "I do," he said, pushing her hand away and capturing lips again. "I'm going now," he added, trailing wet kisses up the side of her cheek. Her eyes drifting shut with pleasure, she arched her throat, murmuring softly when he began nuzzling and kissing it. "Temptress," he whispered in her ear, sucking gently on her lobe. Shaking her head a little to clear it, she nudged him away. "Be good." "I don't want to be good," he protested, wriggling his hips against hers. "I want to be bad," he added, smiling that killer smile of his. "I want to be bad with you...I want to be bad all over you." Slipping one hand up, he cupped her breast. "Don't you want to be bad with me, baby?" She did. She really did. But.... Grabbing his hand, she pushed it away hard enough to shove him right off the couch. "Hey!" he yelped, landing on his arse. Before he could climb back up, she lurched to her feet. "You need to go," she told him, backing away. Devlin rose to his knees and followed her. "Come here," he demanded, reaching for her. She skipped back just in time. "No. Now, you get the rest of your clothes on, and I'll...don't...no, Spike, you can't...we can't..." He'd jumped to his feet and was stalking her around the sofa. "Miss Buffy," he sing-songed. "You know I'll catch you, darling. Give in gracefully." Buffy tightened the sash of her robe. "You have a rehearsal," she pointed out, using her best "teacher" voice. "Now, you go and get ready for it." He stopped, surprising her a little. "Come with me." "Who, me?" "Yeah, come on. It'll be fun," he coaxed her, giving her that boyish grin she adored. She hesitated. "The others won't mind?" "Nah. I told you, love...it's my band. Come on." She was wavering. "Well...." Devlin sweetened the deal. "I'll sing you a song," he promised, tempting her shamelessly with his blue topaz eyes and charming smile. "A love song." That clinched it. She was in!

Part twenty..... Spike kept a firm grip on Buffy's hand as he led her through the side entry door of Union Jack's. The main room was empty, with all the chairs upended on top of the tables, but she could hear activity coming from the kitchen area. People talking and laughing, with an occasional four letter word thrown in for good measure. "Well, look who's here!" A man Buffy recognized as the drummer was sitting on the edge of the stage, kicking his feet against it and making a hollow thumping sound. "It's our fearless leader." The bass player looked up from where he was sitting, tuning his instrument. "Hey, Spike," he said mildly, ac- customed to his band mate's chronic lateness for rehearsals. Spike leaned over and whispered, "Come on and meet them. They won't bite." Trying not to feel completely intimidated, she pasted on a bright smile as he dragged her through the club. "Everybody," he announced, stopping in front of the stage. "This is Buffy Summers. Buffy, this is our bass player, Oz." Oz, a small and slightly built man of around twenty-five tipped a finger to his forehead in greeting, then continued fiddling with his bass. "The one with the big mouth is Xander Harris, our drummer," Spike informed her. "YOU'RE late and I'M taking the abuse!" Xander said dramatically. "Typical. Hi, Buffy." "Hi," Buffy replied. Xander had an open, friendly face, and a head of dark brown hair that curled at the ends. His Hershey bar eyes were expressive and curious. He reminded Buffy of one of her students, and she liked him immediately. "And rounding out the bunch is our keyboard..." Spike went on...glancing around. "Okay, where's our keyboard player?" "In the can," Xander informed him, gesturing with one drum stick. "He couldn't hold it." "Uh-huh." Spike smiled at Buffy. "You can meet him later. His name is Anderton Leopold La Pierre, which he hates, so he goes by Andy." "You can say THAT again," Xander added. "He hates it so much that the only time he uses it is when he signs his contracts." The door to the men's room swung open, and a man emerged. A bit taller than Devlin, and bone thin, he had his head tilted back and was holding a wadded up handful of toilet paper to his nose. "These nose bleeds are driving me fucking nuts," he said, his voice sounding like he'd been sucking helium from a balloon. "Oh, hi," he added, catching sight of Buffy. "Do I know you?" "This is Andy," Devlin explained. "Andy...this is Buffy Summers. She's...." "Yeah, I remember," Andy said. "You were here the other night. The teacher, right?" She nodded. "Nice to meet you." "You scampered off and he was a fucking bear for the rest of the night," he said, pointing at Devlin. "Never seen him so fucking pissed off." Buffy wasn't sure how to respond to this. "I'm sorry," she ventured. Spike flinched slightly. "As you can probably tell, Andy here can't really express himself without using the word "fuck" as often as possible." "Fuck you," Andy replied, goodnaturedly. "I can if I want to. And what I said was true. You were a fucking bastard for the rest of the night. Wouldn't even speak to the nice young ladies that chucked you their under- garments." "They did not!" Spike said curtly, then turned to look at Buffy. "They did not!" he said again, firmly. Andy shrugged and tossed his used tissue into a nearby trash can. "Equipment truck showed up a bit ago," he informed Spike. "Got those new amps you wanted." "What about my..." "Yeah, that too. Waiting out back for you, all nice and shined up." Sitting down in front of his keyboard, Andy ran his fingers over it. "So...we fucking rehearsing today or not?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Buffy sat at a table, sipping a glass of coke as she listened to Blue Eyed Devil work a little magic. They sounded wonderful, never hitting a wrong note or missing a chord, and she had to smile as she watched how well they worked together. Spike was totally showing off for her, giving her splendid demonstrations of his skill with a guitar. She was amazed at the way he could turn the simplest movement into something blatantly sexual. It had something to do with the way he moved his hips in little thrusting motions, and the way he tilted his head ever so slightly as he stared at her through those long, silky lashes. But what she found most wonderful about his performance was how completely he was enjoying himself. It was quite obvious that he loved what he was doing. His smiles and laughter were too genuine and spontaneous to come from anything less than total harmony with his place in the world. Spike Devlin was one of the fortunate few who had found his true calling...his passion...and also had the talent to make it work for him. Up on a stage was where he was meant to be. Making people happy with his music, excited by his life force. But...where did SHE fit in to this equation? HOW could she, when it was all so alien to her, so different from anything she'd ever dealt with before? Would he even want her to? After he was gone, would he ever think of her, or would she be nothing more than a pleasant memory to him? He would be leaving soon...in just a few days...and the knowledge caused a heavy ache in the pit of her stomach. What had she gotten herself into? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wiping his sweaty forehead on a bandanna that he pushed into the back pocket of his jeans, Spike grinned at her. "Besides some of our new songs," he informed her, "we're gonna cover a few of the classics, some of the older stuff. Now pay attention, babe. I really want your opinion." Buffy shook off her gloom. Deciding that, if she only had a few more days with him, she was going to make every one of them count. "Dazzle me," she said, returning his smile. He turned and said something to the band that she couldn't hear. They all nodded and began the distinctive opening drum licks and chords of a familiar song. Stepping close to the edge of the stage, he looked straight at her. "Pretty woman, walking down the street Pretty woman, the kind I'd like to meet Pretty woman...I don't believe you, you're not the truth No one could look as good as you.." The beat was faster than the original version, fitting in well with their other work. "Pretty woman, won't you pardon me Pretty woman, I couldn't help but see That you look lovely as can be Are you lonely...just like me..?" He let out a soft, sexy growl, making Buffy's heart jump in her chest when he aimed it her way. "Pretty woman, stop a while Pretty woman, talk a while Pretty woman, give your smile to me.." Buffy did as he'd requested. He smiled and rolled his eyes heavenwards, as though praying for mercy. "Pretty woman, yeah, yeah, yeah Pretty woman, look my way Pretty woman, say you'll stay with me.." As he had the other night, he dropped to his knees and leaned back, resting his guitar on his upper thighs. He mesmerized her with his heat and intensity, as he kept his gaze locked steady with her's. "Cause I need you I'll treat you right Come with me, baby Be mine tonight..." Buffy had no objections to that scenario. "Pretty woman, don't walk on by Pretty woman, don't make me cry Pretty woman...don't walk away, hey... If that's the way it must be..okay I guess I'll go on home, it's late There'll be tomorrow night But wait What's that I see? Is she walking back to me? Yeah, she's walking back to me Oh..whoa, pretty woman..." Rising to his feet, Devlin's eyes moved up and down her possessively. "Didja like that one?" Buffy nodded. "I've always liked that song." "Yeah, me too," he said. "It's a real classic piece of music. It's...well, its...." "Older than the fucking Dead Sea Scrolls is what he's trying to say," Andy interjected. "Andy!" Spike swung around on him. "What? What'd I say?" The man seemed genuinely confused and Buffy couldn't hold back her laughter any longer. "See!" Andy announced, feeling vindicated. "She fucking likes me. Don't you, doll?" Buffy buried her face in her hands and nodded. "I do," she admitted. "I really do." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Half an hour later, Spike called the practice session to a halt. Everyone was in a genial enough mood, but he seemed wired up and wanting to leave. Buffy watched as the other band members taunted him about something he apparently had left to do that day, giving her obvious side glances while doing everything short of nudging him in the ribs with their elbows while stage winking at him. He just shrugged it all off and jumped down off the stage. After checking in with her, he begged her to wait once again while he showered, then promised to take her somewhere fun that evening. Buffy sat and made small talk with Xander and Oz as she waited for Devlin to return. Two more cokes began to produce an urgent need for the bathroom, and when she came back out, Andy flagged her down. "Hey, beautiful" he called from the stage where he was tinkering with some of the sound equipment. "He's out back saying hello to the other girl in his life." He pointed her in the right direction, then went back to what he was doing, uttering an occasional "fuck this!" under his breath. Buffy left the building through the rear exit, and saw immediately what Andy had been referring to. The "other girl" in Spike Devlin's life was a big, shiny, black and chrome plated beast of the two wheeled variety. **Oh, no....no, no, no....** "A motorcycle!" she said shrilly. "You...you actually drive a motorcycle?" Spike straightened up from where he'd been kneeling next to the gleaming machinery, grinning at her and beckoning her to come closer. "Come on, teacher lady," he said coaxingly. "Let me take you for a nice...long...ride." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Part twenty-one..... Buffy's heart was lodged somewhere in the region of her throat. A motorcycle! He wanted her to get on the back of a motorcycle. The palms of her hands felt clammy at the very notion of it. She didn't like motorcycles. They were too loud, and the people who drove them seemed to be foolishly reckless. Her mother, a woman who never stopped reminding her to be on her guard against all the dangerous men who lived wild lives, had only recently sent her a new batch of newspaper clippings from the Los Angeles Times. She'd practically made Buffy a scrapbook of articles having to do with old friends and acquaintances; who was married, who was expecting a new baby, who had just been promoted in a Fortune 500 company, AND who was (as she put it) "not with us anymore." Her mom's last batch of 'Here's Who's Dead!' notices had included the obituary of a boy Buffy had only known in the most oblique way...a friend of a friend's cousin-in-law. Parker Abrams, a nice enough looking guy...although a little pop-eyed...had smiled up at her from the smudgy newsprint, a cautionary tale bearer from beyond the grave. It was a simple story. Motorcycle...rainy day...wet pave- ment...smash, crash, dead. Buffy had sighed and filed the clipping away with her mom's other notices of doom and gloom, on every subject ranging from "Don't pick up strange men in bars or bus stations" to "Be sure and change the battery in your carbon monoxide alarm, and what do you MEAN you don't have a carbon monoxide alarm? Don't you realize how many people die every year from carbon monoxide poisoning? Do you WANT to become a statistic?" So, now she had a carbon monoxide alarm, courtesy of her mother. Unfortunately, she kept forgetting to buy a battery for it. She was perfectly well aware that her mother's overwhelming concern was rooted in the love she felt for her. Joyce Summers suffered terribly from "Empty Nest Syndrome" and no oppor- tunities for excessive mothering perpetrated upon an adult offspring were allowed to slip by her radar. In fact, her mother was so good at the job that Buffy was surprised the woman's early warning system wasn't ringing it's little head off, letting her know that there was a...'NEW MAN'...making himself at home in her daughter's life. And, not just a man....a rock and roll singer. The creative and artistic type that her mom had no use for, having been thoroughly burned by one herself as a younger woman. Buffy had heard the story of "Simon...the Concert Violinist" more times than she could count. Her mom...an innocent 19 year old student at UCLA, had met Simon in the school library one sunny afternoon. Tall and slender, with black hair and stormy grey eyes, the moody young violinist had swept Joyce off her feet, romancing her with flowers, poetry, and music. Unfortunately, Joyce had been too much in love to become aware of the other three girls who were enjoying the same attention from good old Simon. Her friends had tried to warn her about his roving eyes...not to mention his hands...but she had just brushed their concerns off as jealousy, because they certainly had no one as "special" as Simon to lay claim to. The wake up and smell the coffee call didn't register with Joyce until she'd invested seven months of her life into the relation- ship. She had impulsively shown up one morning at Simon's frat house, surprising him with breakfast in bed. Which of them had been more surprised was debatable. Caught 'inflagrante delicto', Simon hadn't even tried to talk his way out of the predicament. He'd simply thrown his hands in the air and announced that he couldn't abide the "inevitable yowling" that would occur between Joyce and his new sleeping buddy. He had then dressed and swept dramatically from the room, somehow managing to convince both girls that the whole thing was their fault for being too possessive and clinging. The moral of the pitiful tale was, of course, watch out for the "artistic types" that thought the world revolved around them. The moral of the "Parker" story was far more basic: "Stay off of motorcycles! No matter what!" Buffy had already disregarded one maternal ad- monishment, and was still standing...so far. Did she dare tempt fate by flouting another? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Come on, teacher lady. Let me take you for a nice, long ride." Spike tossed aside a rag he'd been using to polish the gleaming chrome handlebars. He grinned at her like the most adorable little boy she'd ever seen...and she'd seen a lot of adorable little boys in her job. Show- ing her that perfect dentition of his, his blue eyes were practically twinkling in anticipation. Buffy swallowed hard...and chickened out. "I...I forgot something. Inside..." she stammered, pointing over her shoulder to let him know which 'inside' she was referring to, and feeling like a perfect idiot. Devlin just nodded. "Hurry back," he said softly, never breaking eye contact. Feeling her defenses begin to crumble, Buffy spun on one heel and headed back to the bathroom. She had her hand on the door when she heard the creaky swing of the men's room door open and stop. Two men stood talking, and Buffy recognized their voices. "So...when's "himself" planning on leaving good old Sunny-D?" Andy ventured cheerfully. "Thursday morning is what he told me," Oz replied, the most words Buffy had heard come out of him at one time. She held her breath, hiding herself just inside the ladies room. "Yeah, but that was before he met the little teacher," Andy said, sounding amused. "His fucking mind's been wandering lately." Oz said nothing, and Buffy heard the faint sound of a toilet flush. "Don't you ever wash your fucking hands?" Andy asked. "Why?" Apparently, Xander had joined them. "My dick's clean. It's been in my pants all day." Buffy clapped one hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. "Whatcha ragging on about anyway?" Xander spoke again. "Nothing much." Oz. "Little Miss Buffy" Andy corrected. "And how air-head's been behaving lately." "Oh, man," Xander nearly moaned. "She is SO hot!" Buffy grinned. This eavesdropping business was fun. "Or she COULD be," Xander suddenly tacked on, making the smile disappear from Buffy's face. "What the fuck do you mean, "she could be"?" Andy said. **Yeah! What the...heck...do you mean?** "Well, she's cute," Xander explained. "Got a great figure...from what I can tell. But don't you guys think she's a little...I dunno...prim and proper?" The other two were silent for a moment, as though seriously considering Xander's comment. "It's just," he went on, "her hair is all pulled back in that tight braid and she hardly wears any make- up. She looks a little...dowdy." Buffy's hand automatically went to the top of her head, her fingers touching the neat French Braid she'd made there. "And her blouse is all buttoned up tight. Skirt down to her knees. I mean...the girl's got potential, but she's not using it." "Doesn't look like Spike is real concerned about that," Oz pointed out. "Don't get me wrong," Xander said quickly. "She's real nice. She's just not his usual...type, if you know what I'm saying." "Of course we know what you're fucking saying," Andy chimed in. "We've been playing together for three fucking years now." Buffy heard the door start to swing closed, and the men's voices fade as they returned to the main room. "....when we get going..." "....he acts like he's pretty serious about..." "....that'll be the fucking day..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She stared at herself in the full length mirror mounted on the wall next to the sink, feeling dull and lifeless...nothing like the fresh, neat feeling she'd had upon leaving the house earlier. Prim and proper? Dowdy? Not using her full potential? The only thing they'd left out was the word "mousy". ** "Not his usual type...if you know what I mean." ** Buffy knew exactly what he'd meant. Devlin's usual type was, obviously, anything but her. So...what did that mean? What...he was just amusing himself, killing some time before he could get out of town and hook up with someone of his 'usual type'? But what about the things he had said? They'd seemed sincere. ** "You wouldn't believe the fastasies I've had about teachers..." ** Staring at herself, she pulled her blouse out of the elastic waistband of her skirt. ** "Give me your name and phone number." ** She slowly rolled the elastic, watching as her "prim and proper" skirt got shorter and shorter. ** "I've never been more serious in my life." ** Swinging one leg up at a time, she smoothed her stockings. ** "Get ready for me, darling." ** Buffy unfastened the top three buttons of her blouse. ** "I intend to rock your safe little world." ** She tucked the sides of her blouse inside, baring her skin and showing a hint of her cleavage. ** "You're what...not used to a man being interested in you?" ** Bringing her hands to her hair, she began undoing her braid. ** "...being attracted to you?" ** She shook her head, spreading out the soft waves the braid had left in her hair. ** "...wanting you?" ** She unslung her shoulder bag, dumping it's contents out on the counter. ** "You'll need to get used to it." ** Bending at the waist, she brushed her hair vigorously, then threw her head back. Full and thick from the back brushing, it framed her face in a honey colored cloud. ** "Tell me what you want, and I'll move heaven and earth to get it for you." ** When she was finished redoing her make up, her mouth was painted a glossy shade of crimson, and her eyes were heavily shadowed. ** "I could fall in love with you without even trying." ** Her mascara wand lengthened her lashes, and a fair amount of rose colored blush dusted her cheeks. ** "Do you think you could fall in love with me, too?" ** Oh, yes. Definitely. Without thinking twice. Giving herself a final once-over in the mirror, she smiled. "Prim and proper?" she asked her reflection as she gathered together her beauty products. "Well, as Andy would say....Fuck THAT!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She stepped out the rear door, and into the late afternoon sun. Devlin was waiting for her. Leaning back against the saddle of the motorcycle, he was wearing a blindingly white tee shirt, a snug fitting pair of jeans, and a short leather jacket. He glanced up when he heard her shoes crunching the gravel beneath them. When he saw her, his eyes widened and his jaw sagged. Buffy wouldn't have been surprised to see his tongue roll out and hit the ground. Ordering every scrap of her nerve to get her feet moving, she approached him with her hands clasped behind her back, a position that thrust her breasts forward enticingly...she hoped. "I'm ready for that ride you offered me." "Bloody hell," Spike muttered, still staring at her. "I've died and gone to heaven." Standing upright, he smiled and extended one hand. "Hop on, Miss Buffy," he said. "I'm about to show you a very good time."

Part twenty-two..... Buffy swallowed hard as she walked toward Spike, sitting there so calmly on his mounted death machine. Being brave by putting on a false face was one thing, but she was now finding out that actually following through with said bravado was quite another. "Come on, baby," he said, smiling charmingly. Oh, that smile was going to be the end of her, she had no doubt. As she moseyed towards him, hoping that something would come up to change his mind about going for a ride...anything would do, fire-flood-famine, she wasn't feeling picky...he suddenly kick started the engine, making it come to life with the kind of a scream she'd only heard in movies. Her hands automatically flew up to cover her ears. She could see him mouthing words at her, but couldn't hear them. "What?" she yelled, shaking her head and frowning. He started to speak again, then rolled his eyes and mimed her removing her hands from over her ears. "Oh." The scream of the motor had settled down to a bearable roar, and she grinned uncertainly. "Did you want to tell me something?" she asked loudly, still maintaining a healthy distance from the mechanized beast. Devlin gave her an appraising look, then beckoned her forward with one finger. Yep. Death. It was a certainty. Buffy inched a bit closer. "Yes?" "What's wrong?" "Pardon me?" Another inch. He spoke louder. "What...is...wrong?" "Nothing," she replied, trying to sound sincere. "Then climb on," he said, again holding out one hand. There was no way she could avoid it without looking like a total weenie. Placing one hand in his, she let him guide her onto the saddle behind him. Buffy wound her arms around his middle, tightly enough to cut off vital bodily functions. He patted the back of her hand, then turned on the seat to look at her. "You ever been on a bike before?" "Excuse me?" "I said...have you ever been on a bike...before?" What, was he kidding? Was she behaving like someone to whom such things as this were old hat? "No," she confessed. "But I've always," she mentally crossed her fingers and toes, "wanted to." Devlin gave her a seriously doubtful look. "You sure?" "Yeah," she nodded hard. "Let's...you know...blow this popsicle stand!" He laughed, clearly delighted. Apparently, she'd been successful at convincing him that she was ready to place her life in his hands. "Give me a kiss first," he demanded. She kissed him long and hard, almost ruining her brazen front by saying "goodbye". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After she'd been on the machine for a while, she began to relax. It wasn't nearly as frightening as she'd imagined it would be. Of course, he was staying off the main streets and highways, and was sticking to the coast road. The "scenic route", he called it. Stopping at a small roadside drive-in, the likes of which she didn't know still existed outside of old movies and television programs, he waited patiently as she used the bathroom. Buffy's kidneys had taken a bumpy ride, and she stayed until she couldn't squeeze out another drop, not wanting to have to ask him to pull over beside a clump of bushes on the way back. When she came out of the bathroom, she found him standing in front of a stand of trees, gazing out over the ocean as the setting sun painted it gold and crimson. The place where he stood was less than five feet from a sheer drop to the rocky shoreline below. She hated to bother him. He seemed to be thinking about something quite deeply, and it felt crass of her to just push on into his private thoughts. Walking towards him, she stood by a bunch of unoccupied picnic tables, waiting for him to notice her. It didn't take long. He turned and smiled, then straddled one of the benches and held out his hand. "Come and sit down for a minute." Buffy started to sit facing him, but he turned her around so that she was facing the setting sun. Pulling her back until she was reclining in his arms, he nuzzled her hair. "Can I ask you a question?" Hoping she wasn't about to be quizzed on any previous experiences she might have had on motorcycles before, she agreed. "Well...not that I don't love the effect...but why did you go back into the club looking like Miss Buffy, my sweet and no longer virginal little preschool teacher, and then come back out looking like Ann Margaret in 'Kitten With a Whip'?" Well, she could hardly say that it was eavesdropping on a private conversation that had inspired her sudden makeover. Problem was, she just wasn't good at spur-of-the-moment falsehoods. "I just thought that I didn't look...that you might think I'm...well, not sexy enough," she said lamely. "For who?" he asked, clearly surprised. "For me? What have I EVER done or said to make you think that?" Before she could stop them, the words were out of her mouth and into his ear. "YOU didn't say anything." She came down a tad too hard on the word 'you', and he picked up on it. "But SOMEONE said something?" Buffy just shrugged. No big deal. Devlin easily narrowed a list of suspects. It couldn't be Oz. In the first place, Oz never commented on the girls his friends dated, and in the second place...Oz rarely commented on much of anything. Stoic as the bleeding Sphinx, the man was. Andy was just as unlikely as Oz. He liked all girls, every one he came into contact with, appearances notwithstand- ing. All a girl had to do was be female and have a pulse. Or not! Sometimes a pulse was optional. After counting Oz and Andy out, it was obvious that Xander was the culprit. He had a bad habit of opening his mouth before his brain kicked in, and it had nearly gotten him punched in the nose on more than one occasion. Buffy was fidgeting uncomfortably, breaking his concentration. "So...what did this mystery person say to you? Come on, love...I know it was Xander. Tell me so I can beat the crap out of him and still have time to hire a new drummer before the tour." She was sorry that she'd ever said anything. Was it possible to actually die of embarrassment? Was she about to find out? Hating to say it, she mumbled something he couldn't quite hear. "What?" "I said..." She raised her voice a little. "...prim and proper." "Who is?" "Apparently, I am!" "He TOLD you that?!" Buffy squirmed. "Not exactly." "Well, WHAT exactly?" Spike asked, understandably confused. "He wasn't saying it to ME." "Buffy." He made her turn and look at him. "What did he say?" Wishing the side of the cliff would suddenly slide off into the ocean so that she could change the subject, Buffy confessed. "That I'm not your type. My hair is always pulled back...I don't wear enough make up...and my skirt is too long." "Fuck! I AM gonna kill him." "Oh, don't get him WRONG," Buffy quoted, still a little stung. "I'm nice and all that, but I'm just not your usual type." "I have a 'usual' type?" "Xander seems to think so." She allowed herself a tiny smile. "On the bright side, though....I have potential." Devlin sighed and squeezed her. "Buffy...you're the only girl I want. You know that....don't you?" "You mean," she said teasingly, turning back to face the ocean, "now that I'm more your usual type?" "No!" he said quickly. "I mean...you have been...you...oh, come on, you know what...I...hey, did I just hear you giggle?" "Maybe a little," she admitted, trying to control it. "But, listen, you can't yell at Xander...cause he'll think I'm a big tattle- tale. I don't even let my kids kids get away with that." He grumbled about it, but made no promise to keep quiet. In- stead, he turned her on the bench and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her until she was breathless. "So, you like this look?" she finally asked, gesturing down at her new 'self'. Devlin gave her a long, slow once over, his hands rubbing caressingly up and down her back. "I like any look that you care to show me," he said, nuzzling her ear. "Especially the one you showed me yesterday on the stairs..." "Spike!" "And in the bed..." "Quit it!" "And the shower..." "I'm leaving." "No, you're not." He bit down on her earlobe. Buffy waited, then gave him a little push. "Hey! Let's not forget the kitchen counter!" she reminded him. He grinned lecherously. "Oh, I'll NEVER forget the kitchen counter," he said, lifting his eyebrows in a highly suggestive manner that turned Buffy's cheeks pink. "It'll be one of our shining moments." "One of them?" "Uh-huh. In point of fact," he went on, kissing the warm skin of her collarbone, "I was thinking about making another...very special...memory." Buffy pulled back and looked at him suspiciously. "Ex- plain." Devlin jerked his head to one side. "See that bike over there? Well, I was thinking...." "You know what?" Buffy interrupted. "You've gotta quit calling that thing a bike. I ride a bike. It has two pedals and one gear, and a little basket on the front, and the brakes....." "The brakes are what?" he asked sharply. "The brakes are fine." She leaned back in his embrace and caught his "how dumb do you think I AM?" look. "They will be fine," she amended. "I'll get them fixed." "Thank you," he said politely. "Please do it BEFORE you take another ride down Suicide Hill." "Sunset Avenue," Buffy corrected. "And I was only nine years old when that happened." "I know, but you said...." "And it wasn't even the same bike!" He had to kiss her to stop her talking. "That's better," he said, when he'd subdued her into passivity. "Now, about the bike...the MOTORCYCLE...I was having this little fantasy earlier. When we were driving out here...you had your arms around me...and I kept imagining one of your pretty little hands slipping down into my..." "It's the new look isn't it?" Buffy interrupted, hoping to steer him away from the subject of motorcycle sex. "Now, you think I'm easy." With a sigh that started somewhere in the soles of his feet, Devlin looked her square in the eye. "Miss Buffy...if there ever was a word that couldn't be applied to you, the word would be easy." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ While waiting for it to get completely dark, Devlin ordered hamburgers and the greasiest french fries Buffy had ever tasted. She watched him douse his food liberally in salt and ketchup, then dump seven packets of sugar...SEVEN of them!....into a paper cup of iced tea. He took a long swallow and grinned at her. "Putting ice in tea is one of the best ideas you yanks have ever come up with." "Nice to know we're good for something besides kicking England's ass in a war," she came back smartly. Spike laughed. "Well, someone's saucy tonight." He looked up at her as she was licking a smear of ketchup off one finger, and his voice changed dramatically. "You ready to go, love?" "Yeah, I guess..." She glanced up and caught the look on his face. "...so." "Good," he nodded. "Because if I can't be somewhere alone with you real damn quick...I'll have to drop this ice in my lap." ******************************************** AN: I stole the "pulse optional" line from British comedian, Eddie Izzard.

Part twenty-three.... The kids running the drive in placed their 'Closed' sign in the window and piled into a black Ford pick-up truck that had probably been new right around the time that disco died. When he was certain that everyone in the area had departed, Spike wheeled his motorcycle under the lower branches of a Monterey Pine. The moon was fat and bright, and the ambiance couldn't have been more romantic if he'd planned it that way. Buffy watched as he flicked a couple of switches on the control panel, and was surprised when music began to play. "Motorcycles have radios?" "Some do." "How in the world can you hear the music?" He grinned at her. "I turn it up real loud." He wasn't turning it up loud now. It was at a perfect level for them to enjoy, without being obnoxious or frightening the local wildlife into a stampede. When a new song started, Buffy's attention perked up. "Hey, he sounds familiar." Devlin reached for her hand and tugged her up off the bench. "He should. He's the guy who's been panting and moaning in your ear for the last couple of days." She giggled, fanning herself with her hand. "Gee...I'm dating a radio star. The other girls will be so jealous." He placed her right hand on his left shoulder, then slipped his right arm around her waist. "My mother made me take dancing lessons when I was thirteen. Let's see if I can remember anything." Taking her hand, he waltzed her around the moonlit clearing, singing along with his voice on the radio... "Watching every motion In my foolish lover's game On this endless ocean Finally lovers know no shame Turning and returning To some secret place inside Watching in slow motion As you turn around and say Take my breath away Take my breath away "I haven't heard this one before. Is it new?" Buffy asked, trying not to watch her feet, while counting silently to herself. "Nope. One of our first," he replied. Releasing her from his arm around her waist, he kept a hold of her hand and spun her underneath his raised arm, three times. Butterflies danced in her tummy, making her laugh. "Watching, I keep waiting Still anticipating love Never hesitating To become the fated ones Turning and returning To some secret place to hide Watching in slow motion As you turn to me and say Take my breath away.." "It actually didn't do very well when if was first released," he said, reclaiming her in his arms and continuing to dance with her. "Then when 'Heart Racer' hit big and went platinum, a lot of stations started giving it air time." Buffy was surprised. "Why didn't it do well?" "Because it's not very good," he admitted. "But anytime a band goes to the top of the charts, they start to resurrect every piece of drek they can lay their hands on." "Through the hourglass I saw you In time you slipped away When the mirror crashed, I called you And turned to hear you say If only for today I am unafraid Take my breath away.." This was probably the single most romantic moment in her life so far. It had to be every girl's dream...an amazingly handsome and wildly sexy rock and roll star was singing a love song in her ear, and dancing with her under a full moon and a sky full of stars..old fashioned style dancing, too! Not the sort of thing where the participants danced three feet away from each other and never touched. "Watching every motion In this foolish lover's game Haunted by the notion Somewhere there's a love in flames Turning and returning To some secret place inside Watching in slow motion As you turn my way and say Take my breath away My love, take my breath away..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The song ended, and Devlin slipped both arms around her waist, walking her backwards towards the parked motorcycle until Buffy felt the seat pressing against the back of her upper thighs. Then, with one finger under her chin, he tilted her head up and looked down at her very seriously. "I love you." His voice was soft, but his words were firm and free of any hesitation or doubt. Talk about having your breath taken away! He had hinted at it, joked about it, and flirted around the edges of it...but this was the first time the actual three words had been uttered. It thrilled her. It terrified her. Her knees threatened to give out, and she had to grab hold of his arms to keep herself from melting into a shivery puddle. "You're making me nervous, love," he said, his brows drawing together. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Yes. She knew that "I love you" generally required a like response. But these were words she had never spoken to a man before. This was a huge, gigantic leap into unknown waters for her, and she wasn't wearing a life jacket. After waiting for her to speak, Spike took a deep breath and stepped back. "This isn't going the way I hoped it would," he said, staring at his feet. "First time I tell a girl that I love her, and I'm bollixing it up but good." First time? Buffy felt her heart jump in her chest. "The...the first time?" she asked, her voice shaky. "You've never...I mean...never?" Devlin shrugged. "Never," he confirmed. "I'm not saying I haven't had...relationships...before. But I never fell in love...until I saw you." Everything that made life sweet, that gave it color and magic, was shining from his eyes. This was just as new to him as it was to her, and she was awed by the courage he had to open his heart so completely. Now, it was time for her to step away from the cautious and carefully controlled patterns woven into the tapestry she'd been constructing for her life. Love wasn't meant to be that way. Fear had no place in a loving heart, and life couldn't be predicted or guaranteed. All it could be...was lived. A wave of giddy happiness suddenly swept through her, warming her from the inside out. All her mother's warnings were forgotten. She would no longer worry about some distant future that might never come to pass. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He was taking her silent reverie the wrong way, seeing it as a clear sign that she did not return his affections. Humiliation burned inside of him, and he could have kicked his own ass for speaking too soon. With slightly reddened cheeks, he tried to salvage as much of his dignity as he could by laughing it off. "You know, I haven't been this embarrassed since I tripped over a microphone cord and fell into the drum kit," he said lightly. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to just forget I said anything?" Buffy answered him by launching herself at him. She twined her arms around his neck, tugging until he lowered his head. "I love you, too," she said, sudden shyness making her voice almost inaudible. "Pardon me?" he asked, leaning a little closer. She raised her volume a notch. "I love you, too." The frown on his face slowly began to fade, and an uncertain smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You do?" "I really do." His smile widened. "Well, that's a relief. I was getting ready for you to scamper off into the woods." Buffy shook her head. "Not me," she replied, returning his smile. "Goodness only knows WHAT'S out there." Spike slipped his hands under her arms, sitting her sidesaddle on the seat of his motorcycle. "So, we're exclusive?" he asked, sliding his hands under her skirt and stroking the tops of her thighs. His touch was distracting her. "Mm-hmm." He parted her legs and stepped between them. "I want to be your boyfriend, Buffy," he said. "Officially." "Okay." She sighed as his fingers crept further up, sliding her underpants down and off. "With all the rights...and privileges...the position entails." One hand lifted her left thigh, maneuvering her into straddling the seat of the bike. "They're yours." He climbed on behind her and scooted her for- ward. "There's no going back," he warned. Pressing his front to her back, he reached around and started unbuttoning her blouse. Glancing down at his hands, she realized his intent and turned bright red. "What are you doing?" He bent down to whisper in her ear. "Making it official." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ To Buffy's own everlasting surprise, she didn't protest when Spike unfastened her blouse and bra. His hands felt too good on her skin, and she wasn't about to complain, even if she was outside where anybody and his brother could see her. When his hands skimmed up her sides and slipped around to cover her breasts, she leaned her back against his shoulder, nearly purring with the pleasurable sensation. Spike squeezed and molded her flesh, lightly flicking his fingers across her nipples. "Nothing prim and proper about you, Miss Buffy," he murmured into the curve of her neck. Nope. She'd left prim and proper behind about three miles back. But, when he urged her to lift up so that he could undress her, she had to say something. "Spike...no," she whispered, reaching back to stroke the side of his face and take the edge off her words. "I just...I can't...not out here." He had angled the bike so that if anyone should drive by and glance this way, all they would see was his back. However, he didn't want to break the mood and since she seemed so willing to go through with what he wanted, he was agreeable to her request. Totally naked could happen later, back when they had plenty of time and a nice, comfortable bed to play in. "All right," he conceded, nibbling the soft skin below her ear. "But if I can't have you naked, you're gonna have to do something else to really get me going." "Something else?" She sounded alarmed, and he laughed. "Don't get all worked up, luv. It's nothing completely depraved...not yet, anyway." That wasn't much help, but she decided not to press the point and just waited for him to tell her what he wanted. "Talk to me," he said into her ear. "Make me hard." Talking was something she could do. She could talk all day, if the subject was right. "About what?" she asked, knowing perfectly well what topic he was interested in, and hoping she could pull it off. "About the ongoing problem of global warming," he said, reaching under her skirt again. "And how we can contribute to it...right here." He placed his hands on her inner thighs and began moving them up. The light touch gave her goosebumps. "Well," she said, matter-of-factly, "I guess we could expend a little energy." "Tell me how," he urged, sending an exploring finger into the curls between her legs. Buffy felt a rush of moisture dampening the seat she was perched on. "Ex...exercise," she gasped. Devlin removed one hand and reached down to unzip his fly. "Sounds like fun," he said, extracting his erection from the tight blue denim. "Will you bend over and touch your toes?" "I...what? On this?" He laughed and pressed his hips against her. "God, you're adorable," he said. "And you've made me very hard, just talking about exercise. Imagine what you could do if you really got down and dirty." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For some reason, Buffy felt challenged. Rising to it, she turned her head until she could watch the expression on his face. "You mean if I asked you to put your hands on my b...my tits?" Her face turned bright red, but she managed to say the word, one that had never passed her lips before in her life. He caught his breath sharply, a bit shocked at what she had said. "God...Buffy," he muttered, pushing up her skirt and grinding his rigid cock against her soft bottom. She faced forward again, feeling pretty proud of herself. Wrapping her fingers around the hand grips, she leaned forward. "Suppose I told you...that I want you to touch me here," she asked, lifting her rear. "That I want to feel your fingers on me...making me...making me wet. What would you do?" Shaking his head in disbelief, he shrugged. "I would do it," he informed her, stroking her moist sex. "You know I'm your slave, baby." "Oh, that's nice," she whispered, rocking against his hand. "More, please." "More what?" "More of...what you're doing." Sliding one arm around her waist, he deftly inserted his finger inside her, sending it all the way in. "More of that?" he asked, beginning to pump it in and out of her. "Do you like it?" Buffy's head fell back against his chest. "Uh-huh," she said on a soft whimper of breath. Spike wasn't going to be able to last much longer. He wanted more than his finger inside of her. "Buffy," he said, leaning forward, "reach up and grab that branch." One of the lower limbs of the tree was situated at just the right height for what he had in mind. She looked up when he peeled her hands off the handlebars of the motorcycle and raised her arms in the air. Grabbing the branch as requested, she held on tightly. "Pull yourself up a little," he instructed. He put one hand on her waist, and used the other to position himself. "Now, baby...slide down...ahhh...slowly, luv....oh, yeah." With both hands on her waist now, he guided her up and down, watching the place where his shaft disappeared and reappeared so enticingly. Buffy clung to the branch, using the muscles in her arms to lift and lower herself. He went in so deeply that his penis touched places inside of her that she'd never known existed before. "God, baby...that's so good." He hissed in air through clenched teeth. "You feel so hot...so wet..." Violent spasms jerked and shuddered through him, making him lunge up harder, grinding himself into her. "Fuck me," he panted, kissing and nuzzling the smooth, damp skin of her back. "Fuck yourself....on me." With a herculean effort, he forced himself to remain still, letting her slide up and down, her tight sex grasping and pulling on his cock. Buffy felt completion approaching. She moved faster and harder, almost throwing herself onto his shaft, making him grunt with every impact. "That's it," he groaned, cupping her breasts and fondling them roughly. "Do it...come on...you know you want it...need it...don't you, baby? Harder...harder, goddammit!" She couldn't hold on anymore. All the strength in her body was concentrating in one place, and her arms were giving out. Devlin must have sensed it, because he pulled her back down. "Lean forward and grab the handlebars again," he said, then planted his feet and shifted his own weight forward. Once she had a firm hold, he began power driving into her at a meteoric pace. Placing one hand next to hers on the right hand grip, he took her left breast into his free hand and continued squeezing it, alternating from firm to gentle pressure. Ripples of pleasure widened and spread through them both as their bodies slammed together in a primal rhythm. "Baby," he said suddenly. "I'm...I can't last much longer..are you...can you...oh, fuck...yes...Buffy...tighter...tighter!" She squeezed her internal muscles down, clenching them around his cock in a vise-like hold that only got stronger when she began to climax. "Spike," she gasped. "I'm...oh.." "Do it," he encouraged her. "Come for me, Buffy. Come hard. I'm coming....with you, baby...now...ohhhh...yeah...right...now!" Using both arms, he hauled her down on him, holding her still as he ejaculated a huge amount of semen into her, his hips jerking with every spurt of fluid he gave her. Nothing was hidden...and nothing was held back. Passion fused their bodies together, just as surely as love bound their hearts.

Part twenty-four.... Buffy was far more relaxed on the ride back to Union Jack's. The combination of the moonlight, the warmth of the air, and the pleasant memories of their encounter under the pine tree, was making her positively mellow. Until Spike pulled the motorcycle into the back parking lot and she saw what was waiting there. The truck that had been there when they'd left was long gone. In it's place was another, half again as long. It was painted a gleaming ebony, and there was a beautiful painting on the side; a deep green aura, with a pair of very recognizable blue eyes and slanting dark brows in the center of it. Beneath this work of art someone had painted the name of the band in the same emerald green. Buffy knew without being told, that this was the truck that would soon be packed up with all the paraphernalia necessary for a rock and roll band to take on a nationwide tour. Although she hated to even look at it, she pasted a smile on her face as Devlin pulled up next to the truck and killed the engine. "Wow. Fancy," she said, trying to sound as though she absolutely loved it. Spike sighed impatiently. "I told them not to do that," he said, indicating the picture. "I just wanted a plain truck...something to get us where we're going. That...thing...is gonna attract a lot of unwanted attention." "Well," Buffy said consolingly, "that's what you get for having such beautiful blue eyes." He examined the representation more closely. "It looks like I'm wearing make up," he complained, lowering the bike's kick stand and climbing off. Standing in front of the truck, his hands on his hips, he frowned. "This was our manager's idea," he said, shaking his head. "God only knows what he'll have on the side of the bus." "The bus?" Buffy asked, standing beside him with her hands clasped in front of her." "Yeah," he said absently, walking around the truck to examine the matching picture on the opposite side. "This is just for the equipment. The bus is for us to travel on. Kind of a hotel on wheels, so I'm told." That particular description gave Buffy an unpleasant association. Hotels...motels...sleeping arrangements...all the girls that would be throwing themselves at the band... She couldn't stand looking at it for another second. "Well...it's awfully late," she said, glancing at her watch. "I should be getting on home." Devlin turned around and regarded her with a boyish smile. "Can I come, too?" A rush of love washed through her, and she smiled back at him. "If you want to." He laughed and rolled his eyes. "If I want to...she says." Slipping his arms around her, he walked her backwards to where her car was parked. "Yes, Miss Buffy. I want to. Besides," he added, with just a touch of self satisfaction, "I'm your boyfriend, remember?" "That's right," she said, snapping her fingers. "It must have slipped my mind." "Oh, really?" He pushed her up against the driver's side door of her car, plastering his body against hers. "Well, I guess I'm just gonna have to refresh your memory then." Ducking his head, he kissed her, long and hard. "You get started, babe. I'll be right behind you." ****************************** Spike watched the tail lights of Buffy's car disappear. Turning to go into the rear door of the club, the equipment truck caught his attention again, and a wave of dislike rose up in him. There was no real reason for him to feel that way. Even though he'd voted to keep the truck without ornamentation, it wasn't half as gaudy as some he'd seen. And all that really mattered was that it was large enough to carry their gear. He had seen the expression on Buffy's face before she'd managed to cover it with a smile, and knew what had caused it. The deadline for their leaving was now only four short days away, and this truck was a big, fat loud reminder of that unpleasant fact. Devlin sighed and headed in the back door of Union Jack's, wondering when everything had become so bloody complicated. In the space of just a few days, he'd found the girl he wanted to make a future with. She was beautiful, smart, and fantastically sexy, and although she had been a virgin, she made love like an absolute angel. Now, instead of settling in and making serious plans for their future, he had to get on a bus that would carry him hundreds of miles away from her. For the first time since the whole thing had been proposed, the tour he had looked forward to with such excitement didn't sound at all appealing. ****************************** He was surprised to see that Andy, Oz and Xander were still inside. They were kicking back at one of the tables, drinking beer and discussing some new arrangements of their songs. "Hey!" Xander said loudly. "Boss man is back. Where's your little cutie?" Devlin folded his arms across his chest and grinned. "She's gone on home," he said casually. "I'm gonna join her there later." "Sorry about the fucking truck," Andy said. "I told 'em to leave off the black eye liner. Said you prefer a nice soft shade of brown, but they don't fucking listen." Xander giggled like a hyena. Oz said nothing, although his lip curved in a small smile. "Funny," Spike said. Pulling up a chair and turning it around, he straddled the seat, then glanced at Xander, although he addressed his question to all of them. "So...what do you think of Buffy?" "Nice," Oz said briefly. "Oh, yeah," Andy agreed. "A fucking doll." "I like her," Xander chimed in. "She's great." Zeroing his gaze in on him, Spike asked, "You don't think she's a bit...prim and proper?" "Buffy?" Xander glanced at him, then stared at his hands. "Why would you think that?" "Well, you know," Spike said, shrugging, "her skirt is a little long...she doesn't wear a lot of make up...her hair's always pinned up." Xander sighed. "Okay, what were you doing? Eavesdropping or something?" "Not exactly." "Look...I like her," Xander said emphatically. "I really do. She's just not the type you usually go for, is all." Spike stood up and pushed the chair away. "Don't look so nervous," he told his friend. "I'm not gonna hit you. Just be careful what you say in the future. You never know who might overhear you." He pulled his car keys out of his jacket and headed for the door. Before leaving, he turned back and smiled, looking like a highly satisfied man. "Just so you know," he said. "I don't care if she pins her hair up tight during the day...cause I'm the guy who gets to take it down at night." On his way out the door, he heard Andy. "You've got the biggest fucking mouth in the universe, Harris." ****************************** Buffy was sitting in front of her vanity when the doorbell rang. She'd scrubbed her face clean of all the extra make up and was now brushing her hair until it was smooth, trying hard to keep away the gloomy thoughts. Four days to go. And she wasn't even sure how much she'd see of him during those four days. She had to work, and he surely must have last minute arrangements and plans to set in place. Plus, there'd be rehearsals and maybe even social obligations to be met. Four short days. And what would she do then....?Part twenty-five.... Buffy flung the door open. Without waiting for a greeting, she took hold of Spike's jacket and yanked him inside the house, then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him long and hard. "Good lord," he gasped, breaking away to breathe. "I've never had such a nice 'hello' before." She smiled and licked her lips. "You taste like sugar," she reported. Giving her a slightly embarrassed look, he showed her what he had in his hand. "I drove by it and I couldn't stop myself from going in," he said, displaying a bag from the local Krispy Kreme. "Have you ever had these?" he asked, opening the bag and holding it out for her to examine the contents. "They're bloody brilliant. Just going inside the shop is a sugar rush." Buffy shook her head. He had been right when he'd told her that he was worse than any child when it came to sweets. Still, there were worse things.... "And you just had to eat one?" she asked, hands on her hips. "Well...yeah." He handed her the bag and discarded his jacket. "They put one in your hand the second you walk in the door, and...well...you know me." Buffy peeked into the bag and counted ten glazed donuts, still warm and soft. "Uh-huh. So, you bought ten of them?" she asked skeptically. He pretended to look shocked. "They only gave me ten? I should go right back there and demand the other two. Wait here and I'll..." She snagged his arm as he turned away, pulling him into the front room. "Oh, no you don't," she said firmly. "I may never see you again." God...three of those sugar bombs! He'd be climbing the walls! Unless she could distract him. Sinking down on the couch, she gave him the most seductive smile she could come up with. "They smell good. Maybe I should dab some of the sugar behind my ears for you." Devlin knelt on the couch beside her, then dropped forward onto his hands, holding his weight off of her. "Believe me, luv, you don't need sugar to attract me. I'm already completely... attracted." He lowered his head and kissed the side of her throat. Buffy tilted her head back, shivering as his lips moved down her neck. She reached into the open bag and extracted one of the donuts. A little more sugar wasn't going to faze him in the slightest. She wiped her finger over the surface of the pastry...coating it with the warm, melted glaze...then held it up to his lips. Devlin grinned and started to take her finger into his mouth, but she suddenly pulled it away and used it to dab the base of her throat with the sticky glob of sugar. His eyes widened briefly, and he immediately ducked his head to lick up the sweetness from her skin. "Mmmm," he moaned softly. "Even better now." Bringing one hand up between them, he unbuttoned her blouse, then took the donut out of her hand and smeared glaze on the plump upper curves of her breasts. Tossing the mashed donut onto the coffee table, he began applying his tongue to her skin, cleaning every inch of exposed skin. "Undo your bra," he whispered, grinning lecherously as she obeyed. He fished around in the bag for another donut, and extracted a chocolate glazed one, rubbing the gooey chocolate onto each of her nipples. Buffy inhaled sharply at the sensation, then released the breath she'd taken when she felt the warm wash of his tongue swirling around and around her nipples, making them hard and sensitive. "Baby...you taste so good," he murmured against her skin. "And I love you so much." She smiled, twining her fingers into his curls. "I love you, too." He skimmed the sleeves of her shirt down her arms, letting her sit up a bit to pull it off. Her bra quickly followed, landing on the floor next to her top. Moving down her body, he nudged her legs apart, then looked up at her. "Guess what else I have in the bag?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows suggestively. "More donuts?" His right hand dipped into the sack and came back out holding a fat donut. "Jelly filled," he informed her, wrapping his fingers around the treat and beginning to squeeze. "Hey!" Buffy squealed. "Where exactly are you planning on putting that gunk?" He chuckled wickedly. "Between your luscious thighs, darling. But don't worry....I plan to lick it all off. By the time I get finished using my tongue on you, you won't be able to move for a...what did you say?" "I said...this is a brand new couch." He moved her panties to one side. "I promise not to spill a drop...of anything." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They ended up on the floor. After cleaning her as thoroughly as he'd promised, and bringing her to a toe curling climax, he rolled off the couch, taking her with him and pushing the coffee table a few feet away. She tried to hold on to him, but he slipped away and rose to his feet to undress. Naked, he strode across the room and twisted the knobs on the gas fireplace until he had a warm and romantic blaze going. He placed her throw pillows on the carpet, then picked her up and deposited her in the middle of the small nest he'd built before the fire. Buffy stretched out one arm, wanting him to take her hand. When he did, she tugged him until he was lying beside her, then rolled on top of him and settled herself comfortably. With her cheek pressed against his chest, she sighed happily, staring at the fire as he rubbed his hands up and down her back. "It's starting to rain," she said softly. "Can you hear it?" "Mm-hmm...it's one of my favorite sounds." "Mine, too." She looked at him, folding her arms across his chest and resting her chin on them. "What else are your favorite sounds?" He laughed. "What a leading question." "Yeah, so tell me." Continuing to stroke her back, he took a deep breath in and out. "Wind chimes. My grandmother had about a dozen of them hanging on her back porch. I pretty much grew up there, and I remember hearing those chimes when I was out- side playing." Buffy closed her eyes, picturing that little boy in her mind, seeing him pushing a collection of toy car and trucks around a garden, looking up every now and then to watch the wind chimes dance in a light breeze. "Good music, of course," he went on. "Applause when someone enjoys our show. The kids at your school, when I played for them...that was great. Listening to them sing along and clap their hands." She smiled at the memory. "They really liked you. You're all they talked about for the rest of the day." "Yeah?" He sounded pleased. "Think they'd like a repeat performance?" Surprised, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Can you do that? I mean, will you have the time before you..." Unable to make herself finish the sentence, she just left it hanging. Devlin thought for a moment, mentally calculating every- thing he still had to do before Thursday. "I can try. Don't promise them anything, but I'll definitely try." Pleased as she was to hear this, Buffy wanted to change the subject so as not to veer off into unhappy thoughts of his departure. "What other sounds do you like?" He held her arms and pulled her up until they were face to face. "Your heart beating...those breathy little gasps when I'm making love to you, right before you come." Her cheeks turned pink, and she hid her face against the side of his neck. "Miss Buffy? Are you blushing?" He sounded delighted at the idea. "No," was her muffled reply. "I don't believe you," he chided. "Let me see." "No." "Come on." "You really have a problem with that word, don't you?" Forcing her face up, he grinned unrepentantly. "Only when it gets in the way of something I want." "There, see!" she said, looking right at him. "I told you I'm not." He cupped her face in his hands, stroking with his thumbs. "Your cheeks are awfully warm." "We're three feet from the fire." "Yeah...that MUST be it." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Now, you tell me some of YOUR favorite sounds." She scarcely needed to stop and think. "Well, there's this guy I know..." "Yeah?" "Plays the guitar and sings." "He any good?" Buffy smiled slowly. "He's pretty darn good," she said, leaving the comment open to interpretation. Devlin shrugged. "Bet he's not as good as me." "He's also a little conceited." "I am not," he countered, pinching her rear. "Take that back!" "Or what?" "Or I'll have to get rough with you." Buffy tilted her head to one side. "Is that a promise or a threat?" Taking a firmer grip on her arms, he rolled her onto her back and lay on top of her. "Is that a dare?" he asked, grinding his erection against her mound. She had no wit to reply. All she could do was lie very still as he began licking her breasts again. "You still taste sweet," he moaned, moistening her skin. His tongue circled each taut nipple before he took one into his mouth and sucked it roughly, nipping with his teeth, holding her down so that she couldn't move. As he pulled her other breast into his mouth and gave it the same attention, she whimpered in her throat and arched her back for him. "Spike...." She was panting. "Yes, baby...that's right," he said. "Say my name. Don't ever stop." "I....I won't if...if you won't." What with her having been a virgin, Devlin was amazed at what a sensuous little thing she was turning out to be. All the untapped passion that had been building up in her for years was finally being set free, and he was the lucky son-of-a-bitch that had turned the key. "I won't," he promised her. "I'll suck you and suck you until you can't take it anymore." Between the fire in the hearth, and the one burning beneath her skin, her body glowed with a light sheen of perspiration, as though she'd been lightly coated with glitter. Rolling his tongue around her erect nipples, he was driving her slowly mad. He alternated pressure, sometimes soft and sweet, and sometimes hard enough to leave a bruise. Buffy sank her nails into his shoulders, encouraging him to take what he wanted. Devlin hardly needed encouragement. The taste and feel of her breast in his mouth inspired him, and rational thought was dwindling fast, leaving nothing but a primal urge that he couldn't hold back. Switching to her other breast, he cupped his hand beneath it and lifted it to his mouth, molding the soft flesh with his fingers. Buffy's thighs clamped around him, and she raised her hips to grind against his hard shaft. Her cries were becoming more and more ragged as he lapped at her breasts. "I...I need," she gasped. "Oh, I....I want..." "Tell me." "You...to touch me. Please...touch me..." Spike slipped his hand down between her legs, rubbing his fingers in her wetness. "Like this?" "Yes." She sank her fingers into his hair, yanking him roughly back to her breast, forcing him to suck harder. Her body vibrated like a tuning fork, while her nerves were stretched to their utmost limits. "More," she begged shamelessly, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. He returned his hand to her breast, fondling it and pinching her nipple. When he pulled on it, she felt contractions in her womb. Devlin brought his thigh up and settled it between hers to give her the pressure and friction she needed. Catching her nipple in his mouth again, he suckled it and shook his head a little. With her sex swollen and in need of release, she rubbed it against his leg as hard as she could, then let out a sharp cry and rode out the waves of pleasure. Spike released her breast from his mouth and pulled back. "Jesus Christ," he muttered. "Did you come?" She still couldn't speak, so she just nodded. "That's the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He buried his face between her breasts, kissing and nuzzling them as she came down from out of the clouds. "You never stop surprising me, Miss Buffy." Or herself, apparently.

Part twenty-six..... "Let's go upstairs," he murmured, stroking her hair back from her face. "I want to take you to bed." Buffy kept her expression hidden. "Mmm...now that you mention it, I'm a little sleepy." Spike was silent for a long moment, then eased her off of him. Arranging her on her stomach, he draped his upper body over hers, leaning down until she felt his warm breath stirring tendrils of her hair. "Whisper to me softly, breathe words upon my skin," he sang to her, his voice a sexy growl in her ear. "No one's near and listening, so please don't say goodbye. Just hold me close and love me, press your lips to mine." His tongue darted out and caressed her earlobe. Taking her hand, he stretched her arm straight out at her side, then slid his own hand back up to her shoulder. "Mmmm...mmmm...feels so right...feels so right.." Buffy allowed her eyes to drift shut, concentrating on the sound of his voice and the feel of his hand. "Lying here beside you, I hear the echoes of your sighs. Promise me you'll stay with me and keep me warm tonight.." Devlin brushed her hair off the back of her neck, nuzzling the sensitive skin he uncovered. "So hold me close and love me, give my heart your smile Mmmm...mmmm...feels so right...feels so right." Slowly, his lips trailed down her spine, his tongue just barely touching her. She parted her lips as her breathing began to speed up. "Your body feels so gentle, and my passion's rising high.." His mouth lingered in the small of her back, while his fingers lightly traced the path his lips had taken. "You're loving me so easy, your wish is my command.." Buffy was melting beneath his tender touch. A soft whimper escaped her throat and she felt him smile against her skin. Moving back up, his hand slid down her arm again, his fingers lacing with hers. "Just hold me close and love me, tell me it won't end.." How had she managed to go all her life without this man? she wondered hazily. Turning her onto her back, he gazed down at her, his eyes stormy and dark with passion. "Mmmm...mmmm...feels so right.." He placed one finger beneath her chin and tilted her face, leaning his head down to meet her lips with his. "Still feeling sleepy, luv?" he asked, tangling his fingers in her hair. Sleep? What was that? Who needed sleep? Buffy answered him by twining her arms around his neck. "Some other time, maybe." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lying on her bed, their bodies moved together rhythmically. Devlin had her breast in his mouth, sucking on it until she whined and squirmed. One hand slid up her back and lifted her upper body clear off the mattress. When he pulled away, he brought his hand around and took her breast in his hand, examining the hard, rose colored nipple for a long moment before his tongue darted out and tickled it. Buffy's body arched forward, not wanting to lose contact with that talented tongue. Back and forth, around and around, he licked and nibbled the taut peak. Wondering when she'd turned into such a raging nymphomaniac, she parted her legs, allowing him to lie in the V of her widespread thighs. Devlin released her breast with an audible 'pop', and rubbed his abdomen against her sex. "You're kind of wet," he observed, grinning fiendishly. "Very." She smiled back at him. "I'm not dreaming this, am I?" "What?" he laughed. "What makes you ask that?" Buffy tried to concentrate, but he wasn't exactly making it easy. "Well...the day you came to the school...the first time...I had this dream." "Tell me," he entreated her, his eyes dancing with amusement. She tried. "I dreamed that you came back, and I was alone in my classroom...and we had sex on my desk." "Shit! That sounds fantastic. Let's go and do that right now." Buffy rolled her eyes. "As if I would." "Oh, come on," he begged. "I promise not to mess up your neat little piles of paper, Miss Buffy." "Some other time." "Promise?" "Promise." "All right, then. Let's fuck." "SPIKE!" "What?" He sat up and braced himself against the head board, pulling her onto his lap. "Lean back on one hand," he instructed her. "Now, take hold of my dick." He held on to her hips, guiding her. "Lift a little...that's it...now, just...slide right down on it...that's the way...feel good?" "Good" was a hilarious understatement. Placing her other hand behind her for leverage, she moved up and down on his hard pole. "Faster, baby," he encouraged her. Buffy looked down between them, watching in total fascination as his penis disappeared inside of her, reappearing an instant later. "Oh, god," she moaned. "Like the way that looks?" "Yeah-huh," she replied, unable to take her eyes off their joined flesh. "Me, too." He shuddered slightly, slipping his hands beneath her bottom to help her bounce. "Come on, darling...lift and fuck...ride me hard...take what you want." "I want...I want you..." she stammered. "I want you, too." Gripping her ass firmly, he held her still and began pounding up into her. "Gonna make you come...come hard...yeah...oh, fuck yes..." "You...you, too?" "Oh, Christ...yes. Want to come with you...come in your sweet little pussy..." His fingers clutched her hard enough to leave bruises, as his hips pistoned upwards. Buffy was about to go over the edge. She could feel herself tightening around his invading shaft, bathing it in her warm fluids. "Spike...I'm...I'm..." "You what?" he demanded. "What are you about to do? Tell me...say it!" No longer shy about the words, she clenched her fists in the bedding and almost screamed, "I'm coming! I am...oh, yes...Spike...now...now...oh!...oh!...." When he felt the contractions of her pussy, he suddenly lunged forward until she was underneath him. Sliding his arm beneath one knee, he lifted her leg and rammed into her over and over and over. "Yes! Fuck, yes!" he said through clenched teeth. He delivered his final thrust, grinding himself into her with an utter lack of finesse...just needing to do it...needing to come...come inside of her...fill her up with his love...with his seed...spill it into her as far as he could send it...soaking her in it...huge spurts of cream and oh, yeah...there it was...in her...all of it...every...last drop..."BUFFY!" She could feel his body go rigid...and then relax, collapsing on top of her. With his face buried against the side of her neck, he panted and groaned, thrusting weakly a few more times. Buffy wrapped her arms and legs around him, petting and stroking him until he was calm in her embrace. "God, I love you," he whispered in her ear. "I'll always love you...just you....just you..." "I know." She sighed and smiled. "Can you hear the rain?"

Part twenty-seven..... The telephone woke them at 11:30 Sunday morning. It was still raining, and the room was dark even through her sheer white curtains. Every so often, there was a flash of lightning, followed by a boom of thunder. Buffy's hand reached over Devlin's chest, groping around for the phone on her night table. "H'lo," she said sleepily. "Buffy, hi! How have you been?" The voice was familiar, but it took her a moment to put a face to it. "Fine," she said softly, sitting up and turning her back on the man sleeping beside her. "How about you...Really?...I didn't know that...That's great...Congratulations....Pretty soon you'll be running that bank...I know you have...What?...Oh, I don't know...When?...I...I don't think I can, Riley...I already have plans for today...Tonight, too...." Technically, Spike hadn't mentioned any particular plans, but wasn't it part of the boyfriend/girlfriend dynamic to assume such things on a weekend? She put Riley off as well as she could, promising to talk to him later in the week. As she replaced the handset, a strong arm slid around her waist and hauled her back the foot and a half she'd scooted away. Molding his naked body securely around hers, Spike began kissing the side of her throat. "Who was that?" he asked, his voice perfectly alert, not in the slightest bit sleepy sounding. He'd obviously been awake through her entire conversation with Riley. Buffy wasn't sure what she should say. Riley wasn't anyone terribly important in her life. She'd dated him a few times, and they'd exchanged some rather tepid embraces. He had made no secret of the fact that he wanted to get to know her much better, but she'd always held back. Of course, now she knew why. Subconsciously, she must have known that she was meant to love someone else. But her 'someone else' was going to be leaving in a few short days, and he hadn't really said anything about coming back. She couldn't say for certain whether he even WOULD be returning, let alone when. Maybe, it was time to push a couple of buttons. "That was Riley," she said casually. "He's a...friend." The arm around her waist tightened. "Sounded like he was asking you out today," Devlin growled, propping his head on his hand and looking down at her. She shrugged casually. "He works at the bank and I guess he just got some kind of huge promotion...assistant manager or something. He wanted to celebrate." "With you?" Spike's dark brows slanted together in a frown. Buffy stretched her arms over her head. "I guess so." He lay silently for a moment. "I heard you say you'd see him later in the week." "Well...he asked me out for dinner. I didn't say I'd go." Spike turned over onto his back, staring at the pattern of the rain on the window. After a long pause, he turned and looked at her. "I don't want you going out with him." She was a little surprised at his tone. "He's a friend," she said defensively. "I...I don't think so," he replied. "He's a man who's interested in you." "You're exaggerating the case." He sat up and grabbed his jeans off the floor. "I really don't think I am," he said curtly, standing to yank his pants up. He turned to look at her, wrenching his zipper up so violently that she gasped. "You've gone out with him before," he accused. Buffy sat up as well, holding the sheet up over her breasts. "Yes," she admitted, wishing suddenly that she'd never started this in the first place. She should have known she wouldn't be able to pull it off. "So?" He folded his arms across his chest. "Have you done anything with him?" "Have I...what? What's THAT supposed to mean?" she asked, her spine stiffening. "Well, I know you haven't slept with him. Have you kissed him?" His tone was getting way too demanding and it was beginning to irritate her. "I'm not sure that's any of your business," she replied cooly. "Oh, well...excuse the fuck out of me," he said, flinging his hands up. "I thought you being my girlfriend sort of made it my business." "Well, you thought wrong!" she informed him. "My past has nothing at all to do with you, and I don't appreciate being interrogated about it." "Fine." His hands were now on his hips, his eyes narrowing. "I won't interrogate you any further." "Thank you." "But I don't want you seeing this guy." Buffy, who had no real interest in seeing Riley anyway, wasn't about to sit still for this. She yanked the top sheet loose and wrapped it around her as she stood up. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, they faced off across the expanse of the bed. "You want to run that by me one more time?" she asked, her own eyes snapping with irritation. "What part didn't you understand?" he asked in a snotty tone of voice. "The part where you tell me what I can and can't do! Who exactly do you think you are?" His brows arched. "I thought I was your boyfriend. If I'm wrong, tell me now." God....how had this turned into such a mess? She had to struggle to keep her voice down. "You don't have the right to tell me who I can be friends with." "That guy doesn't want to be your friend," he countered. "He wants you!" "You don't even know him!" she yelled. "He could be sixty years old...or already involved with someone...or gay! You can't possibly know what he wants after listening to one half of a five minute phone conversation!" "Is he any of those things?" Spike demanded. "Well....no....but that's not the point." Buffy clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "God...I don't believe you're acting this way! What's the matter with you?" "Oh, because I don't want my girl seeing some other guy, that means there's something wrong with me?" He yanked his shirt up off the floor and dragged it over his head. "Maybe," he added, buckling his belt, "there's something wrong with you!" "Like what?" she cried. "What did I do?" "Maybe...now you've gotten a little taste of THIS," he snapped, cupping his hand over his crotch and squeezing it, "you want to see what else is available. Zat your problem, love? You looking to cut a few more notches on your bedpost? See if there's something better?" All the color drained out of Buffy's face as she stared at him in shocked disbelief. Who had he turned into? "I...I don't..." she stammered, unable to form a coherent sen- tence. "Maybe something bigger?" Devlin asked snidely. "Is that it, babe? Think old Riley has a bigger cock for you to ride?" The color that had washed away returned to her instantly, mounting high in her cheeks as her eyes darkened with rage at his crude questions. "You...you GET OUT!" she screamed, pointing at the door and stamping her foot. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" "FINE!" he roared back, grabbing his boots off the floor and heading for the door. He yanked it open so violently that it banged against the wall with a resounding "crack". As he clattered down the stairs, Buffy ran out and leaned over the landing. "DON'T COME BACK...EVER!!" Devlin stopped at the front door. With one hand on the knob, he turned around and spat, "No problem...Miss Buffy." The door slammed behind him, the sound coinciding with another loud clap of thunder. Buffy remained at the top of the stairs. The anger had mysteriously vanished, leaving her mute with pain as tears began to brim over in her eyes. One hand slowly raised to cover her trembling lips, and she sank down on the floor...staring at the empty doorway. What had she done? "Spike..." she whimpered. "Don't leave me...I love you."

AN: Thank you to Jennifer for recommending the beautiful song, 'Sunday Morning'. Part twenty-eight... After a solid fifteen minute cry, Buffy managed to plug up the waterworks and think straight. Her throat and her head were both aching savagely, and she climbed the stairs to head for the bathroom and her giant economy sized bottle of aspirin. She shook three of the tablets into the cupped palm of her hand, rinsed out a plastic cup sitting on the counter, and swallowed the medication. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked at herself in the mirror. It was just as bad as she'd feared. Her eyes were swollen and shot through with red, and her skin was pasty and sick looking. Running a sink full of cold water, she washed her face, then reached for a towel and patted it dry. She still looked like hell. It wasn't the crying...it was the misery that went along with it. Spike was gone. And who knew if he'd EVER come back now? The fact that he'd been behaving like an ass didn't make his loss any easier to bear. Buffy didn't care about being right...she cared about being with him. And she'd only had a few precious days left. Now, even that small amount of happiness had been brutally jerked out of her hands by her own capriciousness. The whole thing had been so stupidly unnecessary in the first place. And over Riley, of all people! She liked him well enough, as a friend, but she wouldn't have cried for him if he suddenly up and left town. She wouldn't have spent a lick of time wondering if he was coming back...or when...or what he was doing while he was gone. She loved Spike Devlin. She would cry a river on the day he would be leaving and every day after that, she was sure. And she would miss him. Painfully. Horribly. Yet, if she'd been given the choice again, she wouldn't have done anything different. The heart ache would be worth all the joy that came before it. How had something so wonderful gone so terribly wrong? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wandering her house aimlessly again brought her back downstairs to the living room. She straightened up the mess they'd left it in last night, replacing the cushions on the sofa and tossing out the remaining donuts from Krispy Kreme. She never wanted to see another one of those things again. The rain was still coming down in sheets, and when she looked out the side window she cold see small rivers running down the sides of the street towards the storm drains, filling and clogging them with dead leaves and other debris. She cranked up the fireplace to dispel some of the gloomy chill, then flicked on the stereo. His voice filled the small room. "Sunday morning rain is falling Steal some covers, share some skin Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable You twist to fit the mold that I am in..." Although she wanted badly to turn it off, she couldn't make herself hit the button. He'd surprised her with the CD last night, pulling it out of his jacket pocket and slipping it into the player behind her back. It was Blue Eyed Devil's first CD, and only three or four of the songs on it were well known at this point. Not including the one she heard now.... "But things just get so crazy, living life is hard to do And I would gladly hit the road, get up and go If I knew....that someday it would lead me back to you That someday it would lead me back to you..." The lyrics were hauntingly perfect for her current situation, and his voice was entrancing. The longer she listened, the harder it was getting to swallow the pain that threatened to strangle her by massing in her throat. "That may be all I need In darkness she is all I see Come and rest your bones with me Driving slow on Sunday morning And I never want to leave..." Sadly prophetic words. He would be leaving. Regardless of whether or not he wanted to...he would be leaving. In four days. Buffy shut her eyes tightly to stave off another crying jag. All this weeping wasn't helping matters. But then again, nothing else was helping, either. "Fingers trace your every outline Paint a picture with my hands Back and forth we sway, like branches in a storm Change the weather Still together when it ends..." But they weren't together. And this was the time above all others that they SHOULD be. The end was closing in on them rapidly enough as it was. Now, the process had been cruelly accelerated. "But things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do Sunday morning rain is falling and I'm calling out to you Singing someday, it'll bring me back to you Find a way to bring myself home to you.." A moment of clarity made itself known to her when she heard the last few lines of the song he was seemingly singing to her. "Of course he'll come back," she said out loud, drying her newly moistened cheeks on the back of her hand. "He loves me." God...how faithless she had been. How completely and utterly faithless to think for a moment that he would simply walk away from her forever come Thursday morning. Spike would come back to her...or at least he would have if she had not started that stupid 'thing' that she had started. So what if he was jealous and possessive. Was SHE any less so? Didn't the thought of him with another woman bother her? Although she was not the worldliest woman in town by any means, she was perfectly aware of the sorts of things that happened when popular bands went on tour...the drunken and reckless behavior...the parties that lasted until sun up....the girls that followed them from town to town, wait- ing for a chance to get into bed with a rock star. Andy had made the comment about the girls in the audience throwing their underpants onto the stage. Spike had instantly denied it, but Buffy suspected it wasn't an altogether unknown phenomena. Spike would be out in the world, experiencing all the temptations his music and male beauty would throw into his path, while she would remain behind. How he would react was.... "Oh, god..." Laying one hand across her mouth, Buffy sank down on the sofa. Was THAT the devil that had prodded her into starting their altercation? Had she been subconsciously testing him? Maybe. But for what purpose? What in the world had she hoped to accomplish with such a thing? Trying to find out if he loved her as much as he claimed...or trying to gather ammunition to protect her heart and salve her pride by saying "I knew I could never really trust him" when it all blew up in her face? "And you may not know That may be all I need In darkness, she is all I see Come and rest your bones with me Driving slow on Sunday morning And I never want to leave..." She had to fix this! Before it snowballed into something neither of them could control. First, she would need to find him. No...first she would have to make herself look a little less like warmed over death. Then...she would go looking for him and bring him back. She didn't care anymore about who had done right and who had done wrong. Pride meant less than nothing when your heart was so totally on the line. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Buffy showered and applied a little make up in record time. She pulled on a heavy sweater and a pair of faded jeans, then zipped her feet up into her boots. Barely pausing to skim a brush through her hair, she grabbed a jacket and ran downstairs. After a frantic five minute delay to search for her car keys, she located them and shoved them into her jacket pocket. She flung open the front door, then stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who was standing on the bottom step of the porch. "Spike...!!?" "I'm sorry." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Never had Buffy seen anyone so thoroughly drenched. He seemed to be bleeding water from every pore on his body. How had he gotten so wet walking from his car to the front porch? "How long...how long have you been standing out here in the rain?" "Well, actually...I never left," he admitted. "I got as far as my car and then...Buffy, I'm sorry." He looked at her with his heart in his eyes. "I'm so sorry." Her heart thudded against her ribs as she reached out one hand and took his, pulling him out of the downpour. Unable to articulate any response to his apology, she became practical instead. "Take these wet things off," she ordered him, yanking at his jacket, "before you get sick and can't sing a note." "Buffy...please..." She dropped the jacket on the entry way floor, then began tugging on his t-shirt. "I can put all this stuff in the dryer. Except for the jacket, I mean." The t-shirt joined the jacket on the floor, and she moved to unbuckle his belt. "I can get you some towels...or...or maybe you should go and take a hot shower. I could make you some...." "Buffy!" He caught her trembling hands and held them in his grasp. "Please...look at me, baby." She bit her lower lip and slowly allowed her eyes to travel upwards from their fixed position in the middle of his chest. "Please...tell me that you still love me," he begged. "Tell me I haven't fucked everything up beyond hope." She shook her head, "Spike..." "I'll do anything," he inserted quickly, obviously fearing that she was about to shut him down for good. "Anything." Looking up at him, she could only think of one thing that she wanted. "Kiss me," she whispered. "That's all you need to do right now." The worry began to fade from his expressive eyes as a slow smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Once again, the world...their world...enveloped them in warmth and love, all it's sharp edges softened. Even the rain began to fall more gently when they came together.

Part twenty-nine..... "You've been a very bad boy, you know." "I have." "I should punish you." "You should." A fresh fire was blazing on the hearth. After tossing every pillow in the house on the floor in front of it, they stretched out side by side, facing each other. "If you were one of my students," Buffy added, arching one eyebrow, "you'd be sitting in the time out chair." "Yes, ma'am." Devlin gave her the most innocently sincere look he could summon up. A look she tried to disregard in order to maintain her upper hand. "Good thing for you you're too big for it." "I'm numb with relief," he assured her. The charm had been turned up full blast, but she was learning how to sneak around it. "Do YOU have any suggestions?" "What, you mean about punishment?" He moved closer, placing one arm around her waist and pretending to think. "One thing comes to mind." "Do tell." He leered playfully. "You could make me take all your clothes off and kiss every inch of your body...you know how much I hate that," he added when she snorted in an unladylike manner. But when he moved to kiss her, she placed her hand in the middle of his chest. The light moment suddenly changed. "About Riley," she began. "He..." Spike cut her off. "I know. He's a friend, and I'm an insecure moron. I get it now." "Actually, you really don't," she said, shaking her head. "So let me tell you; Riley is...he's a guy I've known for a couple of years. He's the bank officer who arranged for Willow's small business loan. That's how I met him." Spike stayed silent, preparing himself for what was coming. He wanted to be able to take whatever she was getting ready to tell him about this other man in an adult frame of mind. The guy was her friend and she'd every right to have as many friends as she chose without worrying about setting him off. But the LESS adult part of him, the spoiled and jealous child part, wanted to punch that clown dead in the face. "We've gone out maybe...I don't know...ten or eleven times. It was fun..." His jaw was beginning to ache with the effort of keeping it clamped tight. "...but I wouldn't care if he up and left town." **If only,** he replied silently. **If only...** The feelings that he was experiencing were very new for him. He'd never felt so possessive and territorially inclined with any other woman, at any time in his life. Buffy brought out all the primal instinct that he'd not given any thought to, or even known was there. "You believe me...don't you?" she asked, worried at the closed down expression that had frozen on his features. "Spike, you have to trust me. Because, if you don't..." That caught his attention. "It's not that I don't trust you, Buffy," he said, turning away from her and sitting up. "That's not the problem." "Then what is it?" Shit....he didn't KNOW what it was! If HE couldn't understand it, how the hell was he going to explain it to her? Staring into the fire, he spoke haltingly. "I don't...even know this guy...and I hate him. I hate everything about him. Because he knew you first, because you went out with him, because he's kissed you...and touched you." That was a stab in the dark, but she didn't jump in and deny it. He held his peace for a moment, then looked at her. "But I hate him most of all because he'll BE here...and I won't." His eyes were stormy as he regarded her. "I'll be on the other side of the fucking country." She really wished he'd quit reminding her of that. "But not for good, right?" she asked faintly. He looked perplexed. "I...what?" "I mean..." She swallowed hard. "You're coming back, aren't you?" Devlin stared at her in disbelief as her meaning became clear. "Is...is THAT what you've been thinking?" He frowned. "That I'm never coming back?" When she didn't answer right away, he jumped to his feet, towering over her and running one hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ, Buffy! How can you even think a thing like that?" Buffy's eyes darted away guiltily. Hadn't she just been wondering that very same thing? She opened her mouth to make whatever measly apology she could, but he leaned over and grabbed her hands, hauling her to her feet. "Buffy," he said, staring intently into her eyes and willing his words to convince her. "I'm coming back. The minute this tour ends, I'll be on the first plane out of whatever city I happen to be in." Buffy felt the tightening in her chest begin to give way. It was a feeling she'd been living with for the past three days, the axe poised to drop on her come Thursday morning. All his whispered words of love, his gentle touches, his abandoned lovemaking, hadn't been able to make it go completely away. It had been hovering on the edge of her happiness like a snake looking for a vulnerable spot to bite, and she'd been so worried about it that she hadn't been able to work up the nerve to raise the subject. But now, it was out in the open between them, ready to be dealt with...and three simple words from him was making everything better; "I'm coming back." Then, in a ridiculous coincidence that would have been too much in the corniest and most cliche laden old Hollywood musical, the room brightened as the sun finally edged it's way out from behind the rain clouds. They both glanced around the room at the sudden splash of sunlight, then looked back at each other. "Well," he said, smiling, "that pretty much speaks for itself, doesn't it?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Not that you don't look very appealing in my old sweat pants, but I think your clothes are probably dry." They were lying on the sofa, watching the last of the rain pattering off the roof of the porch, snuggling together beneath an afghan that her mom had knitted for her during her 'earth mother' phase, the one she had taken on immediately after Buffy had moved out on her own. For almost three months, she had been on the receiving end of more easy to reheat casseroles, home baked loaves of bread and gallons of soup than one person could possibly manage to eat. "I have absolutely no interest in putting any more clothes on right now," Devlin replied, tightening his arms around her. A sudden urge to cause a little mischief came over her. "Why don't we go for a walk?" "No, thanks." She wriggled around to look at him. "Didn't you say something in one of your songs about that being romantic?" "No, I said walking IN the rain was romantic," he denied. "Slogging through puddles and slipping on muddy leaves is just annoying." "Uh-huh." "Besides," he added. "I've got your romance right here." Burying his face in her hair, his hands crept up under her sweater. Underneath her was a very prominent erection pressing against her bottom. Shifting her hips made it even harder. She could feel the heat radiating from him, and she leaned back into him, soaking in his warmth. "Buffy?" he murmured into the side of her neck. "Do you forgive me for being such a bastard?" She smiled with her eyes closed. "Well...that grabbing your crotch thing was pretty rude," she said. "But you were right about one thing..." "Yeah? That's a relief. What was it?" Buffy could feel her cheeks reddening. She couldn't believe what she was about to say, even as she was saying it. "I...I have kind of developed a taste for this," she said softly, pushing down into his lap. Her movement elicited a choked gasp from him. "Me, too." He turned her over in his arms, slipping his hands back up under her sweater and unhooking her bra. She pushed up on her hands and allowed him to lift the front of her top and move her undergarment out of the way, then settled back down against his bare chest. Their eyes locked. Without a word, he took her hand and placed it on the swelling in the front of the borrowed sweat pants. Forcing herself not to blush or turn away, she tightened her fingers around his erection. Spike's head dropped back and thumped against the arm of the sofa. "Oh, Christ," he muttered. "Have a little pity, Miss Buffy," he begged. "Meaning?" "Meaning....stop." She blinked with surprise when he pushed her hand away. "I have some making up to do," he explained briefly, sliding out from under her. "And if you touch me like that...I won't be in any condition to attend to your needs first." This sounded promising, so she allowed him to pull her to her feet. He made quick work of removing her jeans and underpants, but he instructed her to leave her top the way it was, telling her that he liked the way it looked having her upper garments mussed up and askew while she was naked from the waist down. Dropping to knees in front of her, he pushed her legs apart and lowered his head to kiss her inner thighs. Buffy instinctively moved her hips forward, making him pause in his ministrations. "Settle down, princess," he scolded her. "I'm making amends here." Taking her hips in his hands, he lowered his head between her legs and breathed in the scent of her arousal. She was already wet, he could see and smell it, and it only made him hungrier. Pressing his face to her delicious sex, he began lapping and sucking at it, wallowing in the taste and moisture. He went at her with a tender fierceness, licking up all the wetness her body was producing, using his tongue to encourage more of it to flow by rubbing it firmly against her clit. As he ate her out, he took her feet in his hands and bent her legs, resting her feet on the sofa. Ordinarily, this wanton position might have caused her embarrassment, but she was too overwhelmed by the sensations that were uncoiling in her lower regions to care. Unable to get enough of the salty-sweet taste of her, his mouth moved from her clit, traveling down the folds of her labia. Reaching his goal, he darted his tongue inside and pushed it as deep as he could make it go. Buffy dragged air into her lungs, then released it on a soft cry of pleasure. Her hips writhed in his grasp as she sought the satisfaction he was teasing out of her. "More?" he whispered, licking her from top to bottom. "Shall I make you come this way, princess? The first time?" Not waiting for an answer, he dove back into his task. Going at her with even more vigor, he licked her hard and then slid his tongue in and out of her drenched passage as one hand moved up beneath her disarranged sweater to caress her nipples. Her climax slammed into her with little warning. One moment she was lying there enjoying the slow thrusting of his tongue, and the next she was straining forward when he slid one finger up into her at the same time he sucked hard on her clitoris. She cried out as the explosion sent shock waves of pleasure up and down her spine. Devlin brought her down from it gently, carefully, knowing full well that over stimulation at this point could border on pain. As her body calmed, his tongue slipped slowly away from her and he pillowed his head on her thigh. Looking up at her, he caught the satisfied smile she couldn't suppress. "How am I doing so far?" he asked pleasantly. "As far as making up goes?" TBC..... (Well....answer the man's question! ;-D )

Part thirty... "That's some of the best making up I've ever experienced," she told him, blushing profusely. "And I'm just getting started," Devlin stated grandly. "I think I have a long way to go yet before I'm completely forgiven." Buffy stretched, arching her back. "I may not survive." "Yeah, you will. I'll make sure of it." *************************************** The brief break in the storm didn't last. By the time they ended up in the bedroom, it was raining again. Not that either of them cared. Spike straddled Buffy's hips, pressing her down into the soft bed- clothes. His hands held her wrists down on the mattress as his mouth began exploring the silky skin of her throat. She closed her eyes, wanting to experience this by feel alone. His lips traveled down, lingering in the hollow at the base of her throat. He dipped his tongue into it briefly, laughing softly when he felt her shiver and heard her gasp. He quieted her with a kiss, hot and demanding, all pretense of gentility temporarily put aside. This kiss was meant to consume them both, he wanted to ravish and plunder her mouth, to lick her trembling lips and suck on her tongue until it was buried inside his own mouth. Buffy gave herself over to it. She wanted this dominating side of him to show itself, wanted him to control her...just a bit...until she was ready to shatter that control. Her tongue moved over the edges of his teeth and lapped at the soft inside of his cheek, fanning the flames that burned between them. Devlin ended the kiss, but didn't turn her loose from his grasp. He released one of her hands so he could gather up a fistful of her hair, then used it to tilt her head back on the pillow. Before she could even think to question his actions, he'd lowered his head and was kissing and licking at her breasts. Buffy felt her senses reeling. His tongue was performing the sweetest torture ever inflicted on an unsuspecting woman. He used it to paint delicate patterns on the upper curves of her breasts, then circled it around and around her nipples until she thought she actually was going to scream this time. At which point, he closed his mouth around one hard nipple and then the other, sucking them fiercely, hard and strong. When he had her whimpering and twisting in his hold, he let go of her hair and her wrist, moving further down her body. He paused at her navel, depositing wetness from his tongue in the small cup, then slid down even more. "Spread your legs," he rasped. She did, and he spent a moment just staring at what she revealed to him. Slowly, he leaned down and ran his tongue along the neatly trimmed line where her pubic curls began. Back and forth he went, wetting her thoroughly, then sliding his tongue right down the center and licking her clitoris. Buffy's hips lunged forward with no thought from her. He captured them in his hands and grunted out an order to "hold still" before he sucked on her long and sweetly. She had no time to prepare herself for the orgasm that crashed into her. He continued to hold her down as her hips jerked beneath his ravaging mouth. And when she finally...finally...began to recover, he quickly slid back up her body and sank his erection all the way inside of her. With his forearms bracketing her head on the pillow, he buried his face in her hair and groaned out her name. Buffy brought her arms up and wrapped them around him, keeping him lying flat on top of her. She didn't want so much as an air molecule to come between their bodies. Spike was plunging into her with all of his strength, there was nothing slow and tender about his deep, driving thrusts. He seemed unable to slow down, and she had no trouble discerning why he was being so dominant, so demanding....he was staking his claim. She wasn't sure whether she SHOULD be disturbed by his behavior, but she wasn't. She'd made a decision at some point, an unconscious one, that she was giving herself to him in every way. She wanted to belong to him, to be his. Just as she wanted him to belong to her. Devlin kept thrusting, harder and deeper, grunting against the damp skin of her throat with each forward lunge. The rain came down harder, as if it knew that something needed to be done to mark the occasion. It hit the window in violent bursts, then trickled down the pane, making crazy patterns. The two on the bed took no notice of it. Their bodies writhed against each other's in wild, earth shaking rhythm. Buffy lifted her legs and clasped them around Spike's waist, letting him sink in even deeper. She held on to him, nails digging into his back, as she strained upwards against him, meeting that erotic rhythm he had set, thrust for thrust. Then, when she couldn't wait another moment, she deliberately tightened her internal muscles around his invading erection, clamping down on it as orgasm swept over her once again. "Buffy...Buffy...oh, CHRIST!" he shouted, muffled against her neck. "Ah....ah....ah....yessss!" With a deep throated growl, Devlin surrendered to his own climax. He pounded his hips into hers, relishing every soft gasp he elicited from her lips. Pushing her down harder into the bed, then harder still, he emptied himself. Thick spurts of semen shot into her, filling her until it overflowed and leaked back out, trickling down her inner thighs and dampening the sheet. When she came to her senses...when the wild rushing in her ears faded...she could concentrate on him again, on how he was holding on to her tightly, and whispering in her ear over and over..."I love you...I love you...God, I love you so much." ************************************* "Are you hungry?" "Are you joking? Of course I am." "Well, let's go downstairs and I'll fix some dinner." "But that would mean getting out of bed," Spike complained. Buffy shrugged. "Sorry. You can't have it both ways." He was silent for a moment, then said, "Why not?" with a truly adorable pout. *********************************** It took her a few minutes, but she was finally able to talk him out of bed and into his freshly dry jeans and t-shirt. She threw on a pair of over sized pajamas and prodded, pulled and pushed him downstairs to the kitchen. He grumbled about it good naturedly, but sat quietly on the counter and watched her cook. Buffy disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with her arms full. She dropped the items on the counter, and located some ground beef in the refrigerator. "What are you making?" Spike asked with interest. "This," she informed him, grabbing her iron skillet and setting it on the stove, "is a really easy chili. It's nice for a cold, wet night like this...but it doesn't take as long to make as regular chili." "How come?" She shrugged. "Because I cheat. Open these cans for me," she directed, handing him the can opener. While he was working on the cans, she crumbled the meat up in the pan and started browning it. When it was nearly finished, she added garlic salt and a pinch of chili powder and let it settle into the ground meat to flavor it. "All cans opened," Spike reported, tossing the can opener into a drawer. Buffy drained the meat, then dumped it into a large kettle. "Now, we add the canned beans." She added a large can of pinto beans, then drained the liquid from a can of kidney beans and tossed them into the kettle. Two large cans of crushed tomatoes went into the pot. After stirring the mixture together, she added diced green chilies and sliced some onion into it. A few shakes of chili powder finished the preparations, and she covered the kettle and set the flame under it to simmer. "Give it about a half hour and it's ready to eat." Her words drew his attention. "What are we going to do while we're waiting?" he asked politely. Buffy glanced at him, then at the pot on the stove, then back at him. "I could use a shower," she said, heading for the stairs. "Hey! Wait for me!" **************************************** Buffy placed a stack of towels on the hamper in the bathroom, then lit three fragrant candles and placed them in strategic locations. Closing the bathroom door behind them to keep the room warm, she fiddled with the shower knobs until she had the temperature right. When she straightened up, she turned and ran right into Devlin. He smiled and started unbuttoning her pajama top, then shoved the bottoms down until they puddled around her feet. Ridding himself of his clothing, he opened the shower door and climbed in, pulling her after him. She was a little surprised when he didn't reach for her, but instead picked up a bottle of bath gel and a fat, pink sponge. He squeezed a goodly amount of the peach scented gel on the sponge, then began working it up into a lather which he applied lavishly all over her body. He was thorough, and left no part of her unwashed. Directing her under the warm spray, he carefully rinsed her clean of soap residue. She could feel his erection prodding her, but she took the sponge and soap and treated him to the same diligent cleansing. He stood it for as long as he could, then yanked the sponge away and spun her around until she was facing the tile on the back wall of the shower en- closure. He placed her hands on the wall, then nudged her feet apart. Buffy waited.... After considering his options, Devlin put his hands on her waist and squeezed gently. He stepped closer and bent his knees a little, then straightened, bringing himself up between her legs. His erection rubbed firmly against her as he slid in and out of the trap she'd snared him in. "D'ya feel that, luv?" he asked in her ear, rubbing himself against her more aggressively. "Feel how hard I am? How much I want to be in you?" Buffy kept her hands on the wall, certain that if she were to let go, she'd end up on the floor. "Feel me sliding back and forth over your pretty wet pussy?" he went on, breathing hotly against her skin. "In and out of your thighs? Do you like it?" "Yes," she said softly, nodding. Oh, god...did she like it! Her own hips bucked back slightly, seeking a firmer contact. "No, you don't," he said instantly, pulling away. "You be still. I'll give you what you want, babe. When I'm ready." Returning to his original position, he rocked his hips against her soft bottom, grinding his erection against it. "You have the prettiest ass," he murmured in her ear. "It's so soft and rounded. I love feeling it rubbing against me." The hot water continued to shower down on them, making their contact slick and slippery. He leaned down and licked droplets of it from her shoulders as his hands slid from her waist to her breasts. "Want me to play with them?" he asked, teasingly. Buffy didn't know what she wanted more at the moment, so she kept quiet and let him run the show. Devlin slid his wet hands up under her breasts, lifting them just a little and pushing them together. His thumbs swept over the hard peaks, rubbing them firmly. "You like that?" he hissed, biting her ear lobe gently. "Or...this?" His fingers tugged firmly on her nipples. "Oh...oh, god," she moaned raggedly. "Spike...please." His own control was beginning to slip, and that husky begging she was doing wasn't helping at all. He pulled back slightly, afraid that if he didn't he'd surely embarrass himself all over her pretty, little bottom. He put his hands back on her waist, fighting for the control that was slowly deserting him, standing behind her and struggling to calm his breathing. "Spike," Buffy whispered. "Please....now. I need you..." "Bloody, fucking hell," he muttered, and yanked her back onto him. With a harsh grunt, he slid all the way inside of her, burying his rigid cock in her sweet softness. The hard length slid in and out of her, steadily building up a pressure that would soon need to be eased. Buffy lost it. She pushed her hips back, demanding that he pound into her as hard as he could. One hand left the wall and reached behind her, sliding around the back of his neck. "Harder," she begged. Desperate to give her what she asked for, he redoubled his efforts until he was slamming her up against the cold tile, pumping into her in an orgy of unrestrained lust. Harder and faster, he rammed in and pulled back out. One arm slid around her waist to hold her up when he felt her legs giving out. Shaking the water off his face, he tried to apply a little finesse to the situation. Before he could really think it through, he pulled out of her and spun her around, then pushed down on her shoulders until she was sitting on the little shelf that carried her assortment of soaps and shampoos. He dropped to his knees and shoved her legs apart, then drove his tongue up into her, fucking her with it until she was moaning and gripping his hair in her hands. She came, screaming his name. Spike waited until she was all the way through it, then he pulled her to her feet and pushed her up against the wall. Sliding his hands beneath her ass, he lifted her, and when she had her legs secured around his waist, he impaled her on his steel hard cock. Buffy could feel the delicious stretching and tugging as her body accepted his length and thickness. Every thrust in made the base of his shaft grind against her clit, driving her pleasure even higher. Devlin held onto her bottom, his fingers digging in so hard that they'd leave bruises he wouldn't discover until much later. "Ah...fuck! Buffy!" He was nearly unable to speak, only managing little half moaned words and animalistic whines of need. "Want...you. Oh, fuck...you...do it...do it...move your ass, baby...that's...it! Ah! Jesus...fucking....hell." Buffy was spiraling towards another wonderful orgasm, but this time he had to come with her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she burrowed closer and began talking to him...encouraging him...driving him on. "Mmmm....Spike. That's so good....so perfect....I want you...want only you....harder....I'm..." She blushed and almost stopped her verbal commands, but forced herself not to. "I'm going to come," she whispered right into his ear. "Do it with me...please...oh, now...now!" Between her spoken pleas and the demands her body was imposing on him, Devlin finally reached his breaking point. With a mindless howl of lust and pleasure, he pumped hard five more times and then shoved her up against the wall as hard as he could, ejaculating inside of her clutching sex, reeling with ecstasy when he felt it tighten around him and milk his cock for every drop of fluid he could produce for her. When it was over, his knees buckled and they both slid to the floor of the shower....where they noticed that the hot water was beginning to give out. Giggling like children, they tumbled out of the shower and dried each other off. Spike pulled his jeans on, while Buffy contented herself with just the top of her pajamas. The chili was ready when they returned to the kitchen. Buffy dished up two bowls, then grated a layer of sharp cheddar over them as Spike popped the tops off two bottles of Tecate. Sitting at the kitchen table, they ate ravenously, sating their more prosaic appetite and gaining strength for whatever else the night would bring. ************************************* "You know what?" "What's that, luv?" "You're totally forgiven." "Yeah?" "Yeah." "Cause I can go on apologizing all night." "Oh. Well, in THAT case...." TBC..... Comments are welcome