Sanityfair worked her magic and beta-read this for me. She is made of awesome. So just like I did for Promised, I have made a mix for Soul Meets Body. I tried to use only Death Cab songs, since I took the title from one and they have so many that fit (seriously they have a song called: Death of an Interior Decorator-WTF?) but I ended up cheating a little and including a song from The Postal Service. Anyway, if you are interested you can find it on my LJ Page: http://dorians-kitten.livejournal.com.

Thanks for reading and for reviewing.
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Buffy’s mouth opened and shut twice though she didn’t say a word. Her pulse raced as she tried to remember her words. Had she really just called herself his girlfriend?

Spike watched as the blood drained from her face. He hadn’t meant to push; the words had simply slipped out. When she dropped her gaze to the floor he forced a small laugh. “Hey, I was just kidding, pet. I wasn’t—”

She took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips. “Are you trying to say I’m not your girlfriend?” She enjoyed the bewildered look on his face for a moment. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but I don’t just go around heating up blood and hopping into bed with all the vamps in my basement.”

Her heart was still racing. He could hear it. He knew she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the words yet and he knew she had said them anyway. Spike couldn’t help but beam at her.

He had more hope in his eyes than she had ever seen before. It made her stomach churn. She wanted to jump into his arms and promise to be his for always, just so he would keep smiling at her like he was, but a part of her still wanted to turn heel and run as fast as she could. Returning his smile seemed like a fair compromise, so she did.

When she realized he might just continue to stare at her dazedly all night she laughed and rubbed his arm. “Come back to bed. You’re getting all cold.”

Grinning, Spike quickly scooped her up, sheet and all, and carried her back to the cot. He placed her on the mattress, and dropping down on his hands and knees, pinned her in place. “No worries, love. I know lots of ways to warm up my girl.”

Buffy gasped softly at the way he said it. She was his girl. He was right; she already felt warmer. “Spike.”

“Yeah?”

She laughed. She was the girl of a vampire who answered to the name Spike. It had been a long time since she had been forced to accept the reality of demons and vampires, and the even more unbelievable truth that she was the one person in the whole world chosen to face them. Still, she could remember the girl she had been before that day. She knew if someone had sat her down and told her everything that would happen, that she would save the world, gain a sister that had once been a ball of mystical energy, die, be brought back to life. She knew the slayer dreams had prepared her enough to listen to all that. She would have been skeptical, but open-minded. Sure there would have been some smart mouthing, but she would have dealt. But if anyone had tried to tell Buffy Summers, cheerleader and Homecoming Queen of Hemery High, she would be with a guy named Spike, she would have laughed her ass off. Buffy had dated football players, the kind that came from good families and would go to college for business or law and then settle down with a pretty girl. In her most extreme deviation from the norm, she would have considered a guy who wasn’t really popular, but smart enough to become one of those super-rich computer geniuses or maybe a screen writer. At the very least, she figured she would date a guy like that in college. The more she considered it, the harder she laughed.

Spike watched her with an increasing feeling of unease. At first hearing her laugh had been a pleasure. He thought it meant she was happy and that he might have played a part in that happiness was more than he would have asked for a few days earlier. But when she didn’t stop, he got worried. He knew she was under a lot of pressure, and he would never forget the day she had tried to escape into her own head while they ran from Glory. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to smack her again. “Buffy? Pet?”

“Spike. Your name is Spike.”

He frowned. “Right…that’s right. Do you know your name?”

She giggled harder. “No, I mean your name is actually Spike, like a dog or a cartoon pirate. Spike.” She watched as his eyes widened in shock and felt a little guilty. She wrestled a hand free to wipe the tears from her cheek and set her lips sternly. Her shoulders continued quaked, but she tried to look apologetic.

“Cartoon…bloody hell.” He glared down at her. “Your name is Buffy. You’re barely bigger than a bread box, and you run around saving the world with your super powers. Your name is Buffy, and I’m the bloody joke here?”

She snorted in a not entirely girlish manner and pushed herself into a sitting position. “Buffy is a perfectly good name. It’s the name my mother gave me.”

“Yeah, well, all things considered, I’m right sure my mum is thrilled I haven’t been using the name she gave me to wreak havoc all this time.”

She tried to hold back. Thinking about her mother and his should have been enough to bring her down, but it wasn’t. She felt too good. Laughing again, she leaned over and kissed his mouth. She watched the stream of emotions run across his face and her own expression grew more awed. The excess energy that had led to her giggles slid away. She felt calm. Her voice was almost breathless. “You’re…” She reached over and stroked the side of his face tentatively.

Spike forced himself to hold still. She was looking at him like she’d never seen him before. She was looking at him like he was something to be treasured. He wanted to declare his undying love and devotion, but he knew better. Buffy could be spooked all too easily. He watched as she shoved the tangled sheet aside and kneeled in front of him. Her gaze drifted about as though she was studying him, and he had to push down his nerves. He wanted her to see him, but he wasn’t sure he could withstand the scrutiny. He put on a good show, all bluster and bravado, but he knew he wasn’t really her type. She liked her men tall, dark and brooding, and though his recently restored soul had put a bit of a damper on his spirits, Spike knew that he was none of those things. He knew that he could make her want him, no doubts there, but he didn’t really know what she thought when she looked at him. He wondered if she would like him better if he were taller.

Buffy traced his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb and brushed the soft curls just above his ear. She remembered an assignment she had once had for an art class she had hoped would be an easy A. The teacher had told them to do a study on contrasts. She couldn’t remember what she finally handed in but, she was sure it had been something obvious, and she had pulled it together at the last moment. Smiling, she thought she should have handed in Spike; he was all sharp angles covered with soft skin. He was all contrast and contradiction. Buffy wondered whether her teacher would have appreciated her creativity or simply thought she was trying to get out of doing her work. She ran a finger down the bridge of his nose and traced his lips. She loved the shape of his lips.

When she reached up to touch his eyebrow, Spike couldn’t hold back his questions anymore. “Do you wish I looked differently, more…” He couldn’t believe he was asking. He’d spent a century pushing aside William’s insecurities, but it seemed the new soul brought more than William’s conscience to the forefront.

Buffy placed two fingers on his mouth and shook her head. “You are,” she paused to give him a wry grin, “ridiculously hot.”

He smiled and ducked his head. “Sure, but I—”

She took a deep breath and wondered at her own dark of night boldness. “You give me weak knees. Just looking at you gives me weak knees.”

He kissed her hungrily and pressed her back down against the pillow. “Say you’re my girl.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I am.”

He slid his hand down her side, felt the soft skin of her hips and groaned at the pleasure. “Say you’re my girl.” He pushed his knee between hers and settled himself between her thighs. “Please.”

Reeling at the force of her arousal, Buffy nodded and whispered. “I’m your girl.”

Spike squeezed her hip and pressed his erection against her. “Again.”

“I’m really not big on the talking. Oh!” She gasped and arched up to push against him.

His lips brushed her ear. “Say that you’re my girl. My gorgeous, amazing girl, just say that you’re mine.”

She felt the tip of his tongue tracing the top of her ear and moaned. When he started dropping tiny chaste kisses along her collarbone she tried to flip them both over so that she could be on top. She met resistance. It wasn’t that she couldn’t do it; he was strong, but she was stronger. He simply held tight enough to make it clear that he didn’t want her too. Buffy knew that a year earlier it wouldn’t have mattered to her what he wanted. She would have forced the issue; she would have had to take control. This time she could back down; she could let Spike take the lead. The thought was both discomforting and highly sexy. She decided to focus her energy on the latter.

Spike felt her fingers squeezing his shoulders and knew she was probably leaving bruises. He didn’t mind. He’d never minded a little roughness. He wanted her to forget herself, to forget all the rules she tried to live by. For just a few moments, now and again, he wanted to be the one that could make her forget everything. Not in an ‘I want to escape the world’ kind of way, just in that ‘I can get lost in your eyes and your cock feels heavenly’ kind of way. Spike figured everyone wanted to be that for someone. He considered his ability to admit it more a sign of honesty than weakness; though he knew a lot of people would disagree. When she tried to flip them, he pressed them both down against the mattress. He knew that she would try to rush things. She had never really let him take his time. When she didn’t immediately try again he smiled and brought his mouth back up beside her ear. “Gotta worship my girl properly. Gonna kiss every inch of you, love.” He felt shivers run through her body at his words and grinned. She hadn’t been teasing, Buffy didn’t talk much, but he knew she liked it when he did. “Should I start here?” He cupped her breast gently and rubbed his palm against her already hardened nipple. He dropped down to place his mouth there instead. “So pretty.”

Buffy let her head drop back and tried to surrender to the pleasure of his kisses and caresses. He left no part of her ignored. His lips brushed across her breasts, down her stomach, and over to the inside of her elbow. He’d bragged more than once during their previous relations that he knew exactly how to make her body purr. She’d never been willing to admit he was right, but she’d never really denied it either. She always figured that some lies were too big to even sell yourself. He used his blunt teeth to nip at her hip bone, sending her into a series of nearly climactic quakes, and she promised herself that she would find a way to tell him that no one in the history of the world had ever been as good at this stuff as he was. She also decided that she’d had enough of the opening act. “Spike. Please.” She reached down and guided his body back up and over hers. “Now.” Her hips arched towards his.

Spike moaned. The mixture of begging and bossing in her tone made his already hard cock ache. He rubbed himself against her. “What? This?” He almost laughed when she groaned in response. “Tell me what my girl wants.”

She dragged her hands down his back and grabbed his hips. The frustration made her shake and she wondered why he always had to try and make her talk. She was trying to let him lead; she had fought back the impulse to take over and ride him until they both lost consciousness, had let him march out his parade of never-ending foreplay tricks designed to make her whimper in a decidedly unslayer-like fashion. But enough was enough, she wasn’t going beg. “Want you. Please. Fuck! Spike, please.” Or maybe she was.



He cupped the back of her head and met her gaze with his own. “I love you, pet.” He moved himself into position and stopped. He trembled from the effort, but he held himself just outside of her warmth. “Now, tell me you’re my girl.” His voice shook, but his eyes stayed on hers.

“I’m your girl, Spike. I’m your girl.” She kissed him hard as he finally pushed in and had to hold back tears when she finally realized why he was so determined to make her talk. “I’m your girl.”