Chapter Two

Buffy woke to familiar and long missed sensations. Cool hard muscle against her back, the heel of a hand lightly resting on the curls between her legs, fingers gently stroking the inside of her thigh starting a delicious tension in her body.

Sleepily she sensed as much as remembered Spike. She could feel him curled around her, face buried in the curve of her shoulder, denim clothed erection hard against her backside. From the aimless smoothing of his fingers and the stillness of his ever busy mouth Buffy guessed he was still asleep and took a moment to enjoy his gentle touch. Arousing and yet she felt tranquil; it was hard not to imagine what might have been.

And those fingers, making her moist even in sleep from sheer memory of what they could do. Unconsciously Buffy arched back against Spike, who moaned into her neck and pulled her tighter.

"Spike?" she asked softly.

"Mmmm," He shifted against her, fingers moving confidently to her slit. Found her pleasure spot, moving in rhythm with her breathing, and Buffy felt herself quickly getting to a place where control wasn't.

"Spike?" she repeated a little louder, reluctant to move in case she caused a... reaction. "You awake?"

"Buffy..." he breathed reverently into her hair, nuzzling closer to inhale the scent of her skin. Then froze. "Buffy?"

There was a very long silence as neither so much as twitched. Eventually the tension got to the Slayer.

"Would you move, one way or the other, the suspense is killing me."

And move he did, getting tangled in the bedding in his haste to be away from her. "I am so very sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to... I'm so... Shit!"

Buffy snagged his T-shirt and unceremoniously yanked him back down on the bed. Half wanted to knock a little confidence back into him but he looked so very guilty she didn't have the heart.

God she was sick of guilty Spike. 120 years of killing people and she just knew all that guilt was tied up to five minutes in her bathroom.

"I thought we agreed you needed to go cold turkey on the apologising?"

"Yeah. I'm..." Spike caught himself and managed a wry chuckle. "I'm guessing saying sorry for apologising is going to get me a slap?"

"At the very least," said Buffy firmly, leaning back against the headboard. She was still feeling illicit tingles, but now was definitely time for mature Buffy, not the nympho ho-biscuit version. So she tried to put lustful memories out of her mind and concentrate on this new man before her.

He looked much the same, black uniform and radioactive hair still screaming big bad but the body language no longer matched; still and supplicating instead of confident and graceful. Underneath she was certain she could see much of the old Spike, not in the wishful way she'd tried to trace Angel's likeness in Angelus' mocking features, but the traces of wit and perception that leaked through his new demeanour.

In the few weeks he'd been relatively sane they'd had one crisis, and potential, after another to deal with.

It had been easy to think of Spike in the context of a problem to be solved, a hostage to be rescued, another body to find space for in her ridiculously crowded house. And another strain on the tense relationship between the Slayer and her former mentor.

She'd not had to consider Spike the person when she'd decided to have the chip removed. Repair would have meant further contact with the Initiative, one way or another, and he'd earned the benefit of the doubt. Now he had a soul he fell into the category of people to be rescued, rather than disposed of, a Scooby of sorts and under the Slayer's protection.

There'd been no shortage of high drama, but none of it really helped her figure out who he was.

"So you gonna talk to me, or just leave in a really awkward silence? And before you say it, I'm aware of the irony."

Spike gave her a smile that turned tingles into something warmer. "You're a fucking lovely woman, you know that?"

He ducked his head bashfully and Buffy found herself blushing right along with him, took his hand as he continued. "You should hate me. What I did to you was unforgivable. But you make me welcome. Can't tell you, Love, what it means to me."

A girl could lose herself in that voice. Not the same rough drawl that whispered unspeakable things in her ear, but an old Spike voice just the same. Full of wonder and love, exuding feeling. Had the same effect too, make her feel weak at the knees even when she wasn't standing and she wanted to make him feel more than welcome. But this was mature Buffy, who tackled problems head on.

"Is this still all about what happened in the bathroom?"

Spike flinched but made no attempt to move, still stretched out on the bed where she'd pulled him down, looking up at her and toying with the cuff of his sleeve as he answered.

"Promised I'd changed, wouldn't ever touch you when you didn't want..."

"Jeez, Spike. You were asleep and I was way over on your side of the bed. And I asked you to be here. Now I might not always be the most reasonable person in the world but you can't expect me to be that pissed at you."

"T'isn't that."

"No," Buffy sighed, ran a hand through sleep mussed hair. "You think you've damaged me. You keep expecting me to have a big freak-out every time you get too close."

"I think I might have put you off me," corrected Spike patiently. "Thought you wouldn't like waking up with my hands on you, and I don't blame you."

"Well I kinda did, actually." Suddenly he was laying far too close and the Slayer also picked a piece of material to hold her attention as she explained. "I was having a very pleasant dream and it was just... relaxing. You should know me well enough by now, when you're pissing me off I tend to let you know. And I wasn't afraid you wouldn't stop if I wanted you to, more worried about another round of metaphorical breast beating."

She eyed him sideways. Spike was still looking up at her, a little uncertainly, and she got the uneasy feeling he was waiting for his dismissal, or at least for her to tell him what he was expected to do next. It was power of the non-erotic kind, far too loaded with responsibility.

"I know you have all these tortured new William bits now and I don't really know you any more, maybe he had mopey depths and you're liking the self flagellation. But if you're feeling so bad cause you think you caused me harm, then you can stop now. Not one of my favourite memories, sure, but I don't have nightmares about you, Spike."

He made to interrupt but Buffy forged on.

"You don't scare me, or creep me out. I like you. And I'd like to find out who you are now, and there's got to be more than all this... jumpiness.

"It used to be so easy to see what you were thinking and now you've got this iron reserve thing going on because of something I'd hardly think about except you've got me on tenterhooks in case I accidentally set off your conscience. And you won't tell me what you're thinking, in case it's not what I want you to be thinking. Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is? You did a bad thing, you're sorry, I forgive you, get over it. Truth is we both of us did worse last year, and should probably both suffer for it, but life goes on and we have a war to fight, they'll be plenty of suffering all round when that goes down-"

"And I'm distracting you from the killing by trying not to be evil?"

"Well at least you remember sarcasm."

The vampire rolled onto his back with a sigh. "I'm an all-round dickhead, Love. But humour me just a while longer, would you? What do you mean, I did worse?"

"Telling me I came back wrong, for one. Did more damage, caused more harm. And I didn't say you, Spike, I said we. I've never been your victim, have I? Hardly encouraged niceness. Beat you nearly to death for trying to help me, hated you for loving me. Was angry and bitter and downright horrible and I took most of it out on you, because I could. And I'm sorry too, really I am, but I'm trying to be a different person now and you've pretty much taken that idea to it's extreme already, so we can start over. If you want to."

"Well you're certainly a lot chattier than you used to be," said Spike, sounding just a little awed.

"Motivational Speeches are now my forte," Buffy mocked herself with a slight smile. "Did it work?"

"'Bout fifty-fifty, I'd say. I have an almost uncontrollable urge to apologise for being so bloody wet."

Buffy giggled, a hiccupping fit of laughter that had her sliding down the bed to lay beside him. "You'd better be joking," she choked.

"I'm joking," he confirmed quietly. "And I want to, start over that is. Been in my own little world of self-pity and you're right, it's pathetic. I want to be friends, more than anything, and I don't want to mess it up." His mouth quirked up into a mischievous smile. "So just to clarify, you're not mad at me?"

Buffy groaned and rolled her eyes, decided he might just be too much so early in the morning and pulled the duvet over her head.

"Yes I'm mad at you, you halfwit. You get me all aroused when I'm trying to be mature Buffy and not jump you when you're all vulnerable and confused. Then you make with the big scaredy runaway and I have to try and form sentences at seven o'clock in the morning and now you think it's funny. God you're so frustrating."

Spike lifted up the edge of the duvet and peered at her doubtfully. "Say that again."

"Uh... you're so frustrating?"

"Not that bit," he growled.

Buffy mentally processed her last few sentences. Hmmm, maybe some thoughts were best left in her head. Absolutely way too soon for any putting on of moves but how was she supposed to concentrate on what she was saying when he was so close on her bed, openly admiring now her skimpy satin nightgown. Not too late for a hasty back-pedal and a bit of misdirection which was always easier when Spike wasn't looking at her with those questioning blue eyes and had she really missed the way he'd looked right into her?

"I said vulnerable and confused," she snapped a little defensively. "I could have said miserable and annoying but this is mature Buffy, remember? And I'm above pointing out how very far up your own ass you've got since you got that soul."

Spike laughed with delight. "Missed you too, bitch. Does mature Buffy always hide under quilts?"

She yanked the bedding out of his hand and darkness returned. "Not hiding," her voice was muffled, "Attempting to recover my sanity. And looking at you makes my head hurt. Besides, if I meditate hard enough I'll realise you're just a necessary part of life's rich tapestry."

"And when did you get all one with the universe?"

"Right after you left, actually," came the muted reply. "Big epiphany, you should have been there. I'm not saying I'm issue free but I'm gonna get there, maybe just a few more decades of meditating."

Spike lifted the quilt again, smiling his amusement but his voice was soft and serious. "You forgive me?"

"Yes, you moron." A tiny hand snuck out to punch his shoulder. "I swear, Spike, mature Buffy's really losing her grip. Any second now I'm just gonna-"

"Jump me?" interjected the vampire, and that interested quirk of the eyebrow was pure old Spike.

It made Buffy shudder and forget she was sulking. "Maybe," she admitted, pulling the duvet down to hide lust fuelled Buffy. "Escape while you still can."

"Uh... Buffy Love? If you're relying on my self control, we're both fucked."

Buffy snorted. "You don't seem to be doing so bad, bleach boy. First Evil induced hysterics notwithstanding. You certainly- Oh my! What are you doing?"

Cold hand coasted over the satin of her nightie and Buffy tried not to gasp. Spike ducked all the way under the duvet to answer, staring down at her in the near darkness.

"Relieving your frustrations," he whispered, tugging at the hem of her slip. "Or losing control, not sure. Just seemed like a real good idea to touch you and you're not telling me any different."

Oh shit, she'd forgotten how to think.

Spike was pushing the silky material further up her thigh and he already knew she wasn't wearing underwear.

And Buffy'd used up her self restraint quota when she'd woken up and a few sleepy touches brought her so close. Was this too soon? Or was this what she'd been waiting for all along? Good thing or bad thing? She couldn't remember. Concentrated on the feel of Spike's hands as he pulled the nightie over her hips, knew he could see better in the dark than her.

"There's been no-one since me, has there? Can feel it, the tension in you. Tell me you aren't aching for a bit of touch?"

"Potentials!" Buffy groaned into the duvet.

"They're all underage, Love." He bowed his head to kiss her stomach, settling his weight between her legs.

"No... Me... God, Spike! You know I can't be quiet."

Spike stilled his movement, the hem of her gown taut across her nipples. "You want I should stop?"

What? She had to think more? When he was laying fully clothed against her near naked body and making her desperate for more touching.

"No, want you."

She reached to pull him up to her but Spike batted her hands away. "Cut that out. I've dreamed of touching you in this bed, intend to make the most of it. We're friends right? Nothing's going to change that?"

The last words were said with a fierce intensity that almost wasn't a question but Buffy answered anyway, breathlessly.

"I'm much less of a bitch now, honestly. Perhaps we can get along."

Spike was touching her in earnest now, stirring sinfully good memories and brand new sensations.

"Nothing wrong with being a bitch, pet. Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?"

"You've been unusually restrained on the subject of late."

Hey look at that, her brain still worked. But not for much longer, if he carried on skirting her erogenous zones. The tension seemed to be building in Spike, too, there was a catch in his voice as he continued.

"And sexy and alive and kind and strong and gorgeous."

He pulled the nightie over her head and tossed it to the floor, throwing back the duvet in one smooth movement. "Wanna see you, Love. So beautiful... And you'll tell me if this is too much? If I go too far? What with you being naked and all I might not be thinking too clearly."

Buffy moaned encouragement, arched into his hand as he tugged at a nipple. "Nowhere near far enough... need more..."

"Good, cause I wasn't done. Love this gorgeous little body, that you're letting me touch you. Love you. Love that you can still laugh, love the way you care, even about me. Love the smell of your skin, so soft, the smell of your pretty little pussy. And did I mention you're looking better? Got some flesh over that muscle now, Pet, lovely round curves-”

"Spike?" Buffy interrupted, voice quivering.

"Yes Love?" He lifted his head to look at her, and for a long few seconds Buffy was captivated by those gorgeous, questioning blue eyes.

"When you're done listing my imaginary virtues, and telling me I'm fat, I can think of better uses for that mouth."

"Yes Love."

Buffy wasn't sure if she was coming down or coming to as she opened her eyes. Spike was hovering over her, blue eyes a little startled, looking like he wanted to smile but not quite sure if it was appropriate.

"You okay?"

He sounded like the whole world was balancing on her answer, when it was the silliest question possible. "No," Buffy whined with a teasing smile. "My knees don't work and I feel all dizzy. D'you think I might be coming down with something?"

The vampire gave her a patented Spike look, adoration and amusement all mixed in. Even fully clothed he was a gorgeous sight, muted morning light glinting through his hair, there weren't words to tell him.

"You look just fine to me. Very hot-"

"Would you kiss me already?"

He dipped his head to comply, slow languid kisses that felt they could go on forever.

Or until there was a bang at the door.

"Buffy! If you don't wake up and get your ass downstairs Vi and Rona are going to kill each other over a bowl of cereal!"

Spike rolled off her, hastily pulling the duvet up but the door stayed closed. Buffy gave a small whimper. "Can we hide? Hiding sounds good."

"Only if you think you can spare a potential or two."

Another whimper and an armful of naked slayer snuggled against his chest like a little girl, leaving Spike torn between lust and manly pride.

Buffy tilted her head to pout at him, got distracted by cheekbones and a soft smile.

"Don't think I ever told you you're beautiful."

And she would have done earlier if she'd known he could smile like that. "Balls to the potentials. I wanna stay here and tell you that you're beautiful."

And kiss, she added mentally as he caught her mouth again, tongue probing gently and leaving her bereft as he pulled back.

"I love you. Now go battle evil. And have some breakfast."