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Thirteen - Am I Spaghetti to You?
 
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Chapter Thirteen - Am I Spaghetti to You?

"I can't do this!" Buffy was pacing around the small sleeping area, pausing occasionally to kick at imaginary things. She threw herself back onto the unmade bed and kicked her bare feet until she got tired.

"Bloody hell, Slayer! Why didn't you tell me I needed to get some Ritalin for you?"

"Rita- what?" She snapped back up to glare at the vampire just emerging from the far end of the big room. "Where have you been?"

He set down the bags he was carrying and gestured to them. "Got you some breakfast - got coffee, too, but I've changed my mind about letting you have that!" He pulled two large lattes out of one of the bags and put them on top of a tall bookshelf out of Buffy's reach.

"I want it," she whined, jumping to her feet. "Come on, Spike. Let me have it, please?"

"Oooh, I like the sound of that," he purred. "Say it again, luv."

"Say what again?" Buffy quickly reviewed what she'd said while staring wistfully at the lattes. "Oh, in your dreams! You are such a pig!"

He just shrugged and pulled some boxes from the other bag. "Here you go. Donuts, a breakfast burrito, and an Egg McMuffin. Pick your poison." He reached up and brought the lattes down, holding one in each hand. "If you promise drinking this stuff won't make you more hyper, I'll let you have one."

"I'll be fine," she muttered, examining the donuts. "I was just bored and I hate the idea of being stuck in here all day."

Spike nodded and stretched before skinning off his T-shirt. Before Buffy's astonished eyes, he slipped out of his boots and unzipped his jeans. "Might want to turn your back, luv," he said mildly.

"Wha— what are you doing?" Buffy's voice was more of a squeak than the authoritative slayer voice she had intended.

"I'm going to get into my own bed – now that my guest isn't using it – and get some kip. Make yourself at home, just try not to make too much noise, yeah?"

When Buffy didn't turn around as he'd suggested, but continued to stare at him with her mouth open, he shrugged and dropped his jeans, stepping out of them without any sign of embarrassment. He ignored her flaming face, and much too late spin in the other direction, sliding into the bed and burrowing under the covers. By the time Buffy took a timid peek over her shoulder, his head was under one of the pillows and his body was still.

~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours later, when Buffy had eaten, drunk her latte, and run out of things to do besides avoid looking at the comfortable bed and the vampire now occupying most of it, she went up the ladder to take another look around the actual crypt level. She moved the "door" only as far as was necessary for her to squeeze through, leaving it where she could easily pull it back into position if and when she returned to the bedroom.

There was enough light coming in the high, dirty windows that she could see the stone interior fairly well. Well enough to decide the furniture she and Spike had placed earlier didn't please her newly proprietary eye; she amused herself for a while rearranging tables and the one chair until the decor suited her.

"I wonder what the feng shui rules are for crypts?" she muttered as she brushed off the top of a sarcophagus and put some candles on it. Suddenly a sound from outside brought her dashing to the wall to try to listen through the window.

"This is a waste of time," she heard a male voice grumble. "Who would hide in a cemetery, for fuck's sake?"

"Somebody who spends a lot of time in them," came another voice – one that tickled Buffy's memory just a little.

"I still don't see why we didn't just rough up that old guy -– whatever he is to her – a little more. He'd have caved sooner or later."

Buffy's hand crumbled the stone she was grasping as she realized who they were talking about.

Giles! They're talking about beating up Giles!

She listened to the soldiers wrenching open the outer door, and enjoyed their bewildered curses when they encountered the second heavy oak barrier. "What the hell? Who's buried in here, King Tut?"

"Looks like a family mausoleum. Probably got heirlooms or something in there."

Buffy watched with wide eyes as the very heavy stone she and Spike had placed in front of the door shuddered, but remained firm.

"Aw, the hell with it. The door's stuck. The thing probably hasn't been opened in fifty years. If we can't open it, there's no way some chick did – I don't care how strong she is."

"All right, let's move on. Maggie really, really wants this girl. If we don't find her here, we've got three more cemeteries to go through before dark."

She heard the clang of the metal door as it was slammed back into place, but waited until she was sure they were gone before slipping back through the opening in the floor and pulling the plywood and rug into place.

She assumed Spike had slept through the close call, but when her eyes had adjusted to the small amount of light coming from the one guttering candle, she saw that he was lying on his back, arms behind his head, watching her.

"You heard?"

He tapped his ear. "Hard to sleep through all that banging and grunting." He smiled at her. "Couldn't budge it, could they?"

Buffy shook her head. "I can't decide if I'm happy we're safe, or pissed off that they were so sure I couldn't have opened that door by myself."

As she talked, she'd been walking towards Spike, stopping in confusion when she realized that the only place to sit was on the bed. The bed in which Spike was lying... naked. He watched her for a second, grinning at her obvious embarrassment and indecision, then shook his head and moved over, carefully keeping the sheets pulled up to his waist.

"Relax, Slayer. Sit down and lets talk this out."

"Talk what out?" Buffy perched gingerly on the side of the bed, resolutely keeping her eyes turned away from the chest and arms so tantalizingly close.

"I think we need a plan. First thing is to find a way to contact your watcher so we know what's what."

"Oh! Poor Giles! I almost forgot. They've talked to him – one guy said they should have roughed him up more."

"Stupid gits." Spike shook his head in disgust. "I watched that man stand up to Angelus' tender attentions. Those amateurs wouldn't have got anything but tired."

Buffy forgot about the naked chest and stared at Spike, comprehension dawning in her face. "You like him, don't you? All that poking fun at his tweed coats and being a watcher... you're faking it."

Spike looked away and cleared his throat. "Just know there's more to the man than what it seems on the surface.... "

"Too bad you didn't meet Ripper. You two would have bonded." Buffy grinned, laughing when Spike asked, "What's a Ripper?"

"Giles was! And it's not "a" Ripper, it's The Ripper. That's who he was when he was young. A couple of years ago, one of his old buddies brought this weird candy to town, and it made everybody... and then my mom and Giles... " She stopped and wrinkled her nose at Spike's puzzled face. "I guess you had to be there."

"I guess." Spike shrugged and sank back down into the bed. He caught Buffy yawning and patted the bed suggestively.

"I need a couple more hours before I'm ready to go back out to get more things to keep you fit and happy. Care to join me?"

"Depends," Buffy said. "Who am I talking to – Spike or William?"

"I can't be both?" Spike's lip came out in an exaggerated pout and Buffy swallowed hard.

"I don't know. Can you?"

He sighed and nodded, meeting her eyes with a steady gaze. "I can if you need me to. Wouldn't be my first choice, but if that's what you want..."

"Why can you do it now – with me in the same bed – and a few days ago you said you couldn't even stay in the same room with me?"

"That was the spell, wasn't it? I wanted you, you wanted me, and I could tell you did. There was no resisting that. Not the same thing now. I know how to take no for an answer, Buffy."

Buffy yawned again, covering her mouth with her hand. Spike smiled and rolled over to face away from her.

"Get some more sleep, luv. Something tells me we might have a busy night tonight."

Buffy stared at his bare back, then pulled the sheet up all the way to his shoulders.

"Tucking me in?"

She poked him. "You wish! I'm just covering you up because I'm going to use the comforter." She followed words with actions, lying down and pulling the fluffy coverlet over her clothed legs. She stared at Spike's inert body again, bit her lip, then moved one side of the cover over him. She moved marginally closer so that they both had enough warm cover to be comfortable, alert for any sign that he was planning to take advantage of her generosity but he remained still. Her eyes drifted shut and she relaxed again.

She woke to find the candle had finally guttered out and she was in complete darkness, not even a trace of light to relieve the inky atmosphere. She also had, at some point, moved close enough to be resting her back against the immobile one behind her. Spike wasn't breathing, feeling so much like the corpse that he was that Buffy forgot briefly that he didn't need to breathe; her heart rocketed until she remembered and relaxed again.

Sleep, however, was elusive and she became more and more conscious of the body laying only a thin sheet away from hers. Moving slowly and carefully, she shifted until she was facing his muscular back rather than leaning against it. The sheet she'd pulled up over him had once again slid down, leaving his smooth skin only inches away. In spite of the utter darkness, her slayer senses as well as the scent that said "Spike" to her kept her very aware of who she was in bed with, and how close together they were.

She rested one palm between his shoulder blades, wishing briefly that the spell had lasted long enough for them to actually make use of the bed before it broke. She was lifting her hand before she gave in to the urge to run it over the still body beside her when it suddenly was trapped in a powerful grip. Moving with the speed that made fighting him so different from any other vampire she'd faced, he'd turned and captured her hand with one of his before she could pull away.

Shoving the tangled cover down to their feet, he purred, "Is it time to get up, love? Is that why you're touching me?"

Buffy seized on the excuse immediately, nodding her head vigorously and demanding that her mouth and brain function properly. "Ye...yes. I mean, I think it might... I can't tell. It's too dark in here."

He pulled her hand to his mouth, kissing her open palm and sending a thrill up her arm that lodged in her throat. She felt him smile against her hand as he lightly touched the center of her palm with his tongue. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Buffy attempted to speak.

"Guh... you... gah... aaaah..."

"It is dark," he whispered, moving his lips from her palm to her wrist and nibbling his way up her arm. "No one can see us. We can't even see each other. Nothing but darkness here... we can be anybody we want to."

Buffy whimpered as his lips paused to suck on the soft skin on the inside of her elbow, gasping when he began moving up her arm again.

"You taste so good, Buffy. You have perfect skin, perfect flesh. Just soft enough, just firm enough. Al dente, as the Italians would say."

"O... okay," she said, her voice shaky. "There's something very wrong about having a vampire's teeth on me and being compared to spaghetti...." She intended to pull away, but found herself moving closer instead. Spike's mouth was now on her shoulder, nudging away the strap of her tank top as he kissed his way across her collarbone. "Where's William? I want... I need William!"

Without moving his mouth from her skin, and working his way up her neck, Spike said, "He's out writing bad poetry to you. Left me in charge."

"Oh!" Buffy arched her neck to give him better access. "I think that was a very bad idea...."

There was no reply this time as Spike's lips brushed across hers, moving lightly back and forth until she grabbed his lower lip in her teeth and growled, "Dammit, Spike. If you're going to kiss me, will you just hurry up and do it?"

"Thought you'd never ask." He fastened his mouth on hers, igniting the same heat that she'd so easily blamed on a spell the last two times it happened. She was very grateful for the sheet that separated her clothed body from his so very not clothed one, but to her surprise, he only kissed her – skillfully and with great enthusiasm, but without trying to take it any further.

It was Buffy – whose entire body was responding to the soft, supple lips on hers, the tongue that teased and caressed her own, and the man whose entire focus seemed to be on keeping her incoherent and unable to speak – who slid her hands around his bare torso and pulled herself against his body. Spike's growl that vibrated against her chest only deepened her need to feel his skin against hers, and she tore her lips away long enough to skim her tank top over her head.

Spike fastened his mouth on one nipple, pushing the skimpy bra out of his way and rolling Buffy onto her back. His slender hips rested on her closed thighs as he alternated between her breasts until she was holding his head in place and wishing he had two mouths. He began to trail his lips down her ribcage, stopping when he got to her belly button and teasing it with his tongue. Buffy's "Oh God!" as she arched into his mouth, rather than encouraging him as she'd expected, made him stop.

He moved back up her body and gave her a light kiss before resting his forehead against hers. Even with his vampire-enhanced night vision, he couldn't actually see her eyes in the darkness, but his other senses told him she was staring back at him with doubt just beginning to cloud her expression.

"You stopped," she said, a breathy catch in her voice.

"Did. Want to be clear on what's going on here. William would be happy to lie here kissing you all day. It was all I intended, till you put those hot little hands on me." As though to make his point, he brushed his lips across hers, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth and biting it gently. "There's no spell to blame this on, Buffy. It's just you and me, and if you're going to regret it, tell me now."

"That..." She gasped a little as he shifted his weight and she felt the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. She recovered her voice and whispered, "That sounds suspiciously like William to me. I don't think Spike cares if I'd regret it or not...."

Buffy couldn't see his face, but she couldn't miss the disappointment in his voice, or the way her body protested when he rolled off to lie beside her. "Don't think you know me quite as well as you think you do, pet," he said, dropping a kiss onto her bare shoulder before moving just far enough away that they weren't touching.

What the hell? How did I go from happy, ho-bag Buffy to not getting any Buffy?

"Will— Spike... I didn't mean... I... What just happened here? Don't you want me?"

In response, he took her hand and placed it on his thorough aroused cock. He couldn't prevent his groan when she automatically squeezed it. Through gritted teeth he said, "That's got to be one of the stupidest questions you've ever asked. I've done nothing but want you since that soddin' spell that had us thinking we were in love. Want you so much I can't think about anything else. But..." He sighed and with another groan, he moved her hand back onto her own body.

"But what?" The righteous indignation in her voice just barely disguised the humiliation she felt at having her obvious offer turned down.

"But .." He shook his head, then snarled at himself. "Nothing. But nothing. You're willing, and I'm a bloody idiot..." As quickly as he'd moved away, he rolled back on top of her, pinning her hands over her head and pressing his hips into her. Buffy's anger and embarrassment temporarily overcame her relief at once again being under his muscular body, and she wriggled under him.

"Maybe I don't want to anymore," she said. Although she was trying to pull her hands loose from his, the rest of her body was pressing into Spike's and her thighs fell open to allow his hips drop between them. They both gasped when his cock pressed against the seam in her jeans. Still struggling feebly to convince herself she was too offended to give in, Buffy gasped, "I don't want... I want William to come back..."

Spike growled as he took both of her hands in one of his, using the free hand to unhook her bra and unfasten her jeans.

"William has left the building, Slayer."
 
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