Chapter Fourteen ~ Ain’t Love a Kick in the Head ?

“Like the fella once said – ain’t that a kick in the head?
My head keeps spinnin’, I go to sleep and keep grinnin’,
If this is just the beginnin’ my life is gonna be beautiful.
I’ve sunshine enough to spread. It’s just like the fella said;
Tell me quick, ain’t love a kick in the head? ”

~ Dean Martin



Buffy was coming at him with a stake in her hand, wearing a murderous look on her face. But it was her eyes that were killing him now. There was a fire in them Spike was hypnotized by. They burned into his, brimming with passion and fury. Thank God she didn’t have an axe in her hands, ‘cause she looked hell-bent on homicide. Why didn’t he care about that exactly?

He only knew he felt alive right now and there was nowhere else he wanted to be. Nothing existed outside the circle of her regard - however deadly that regard might prove. Her face was flushed with rage, her long, fair hair streamed out behind her. She looked like a warrior goddess, like a Valkyrie in flight.

*Tell Valhalla I’m coming…*

He thought, unrepentant. She was on him in a moment – a blur of motion as she attacked. He could have laughed with the joy of it. It was all so right, just as it should be between them – as it had been from the very beginning. How long was it since they’d truly fought? It felt like an eternity. His only regret was that he could not give her the battle she deserved. The chip would not allow it. He could block her, and as long as he had no intention to harm her he was fine. But he missed the dance. Their dance.

Spike would take what he could get right now though. And watching her as she tried to beat him within an inch of his un-life was pretty damn good. Her skin was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, her hair mussed, lips moist and parted as she panted from exertion. She was the most entrancing thing he had ever seen. He could hear the pounding of her heart, feel the heat coming off her in waves – but best of all he could smell her. There was a light tang of ginger-lily mixed in with the scent of her excitement. It made his mouth water. She was more aroused than she had ever been around him before and it thrilled him to no end. He knew it was for him, all for him…

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Buffy was beating him down with everything she had. But he never stopped smiling. He just ducked and weaved, blocking her when he could. She used the stake like a set of brass knuckles, buttressing her punches. She managed to smash him in the jaw, and watched his head snap back with satisfaction. Bastard. She kicked him square in the chest and watched him fly a dozen feet landing hard on his ass. It made her want to giggle hysterically. She noticed how giddy she felt, how high. She was actually enjoying herself. This didn’t surprise her too terribly much – she’d always loved fighting him. No one else challenged her like Spike. Even now, when he should be five minutes from a total K.O., he was still holding his own.

As if to prove her point, he leapt up from the ground and came stalking back, grin still firmly in place. Buffy whipped off her jacket and tossed it on the grass. She placed herself in a fighting stance: body cocked to one side, leading with her right fist. She was ready for him.

“ Feel better, Kitten? Release some of that nasty tension?”

His voice was oozing with insincerity. She shot him a brightly vicious smile.

“ As a matter of fact, I feel great. But then again I always did enjoy kicking your ass.”

“ Tell ya a secret, Pet…” He whispered conspiratorially “ So did I.”

He winked at her and pursed his lips in a mocking kiss.

It had the desired effect, inciting Buffy to lunge for him. He avoided her neatly, but found himself staggering back from a solid boot to the head a minute later. He laughed, ears ringing.

“ That’s right, Baby. Put it all on me.”

He shook his head to clear the bells and stood his ground, eyeing her impudently.

“ You know it’s no good for you to be so bloody pent up, Slayer.”

He said with mock concern, dancing like a boxer in front of her. Ready for Round 10.

Ooooo! He was so infuriating. What did it take to beat him down? His ego was unbelievable! She’d used him as a human punching bag for the last half hour. He couldn’t even hit her back for God’s sake! But there he was, cocky as ever – smiling, laughing, taunting her. His mouth just kept working overtime. What the hell was it gonna take??

Buffy looked her adversary up and down, sizing him up – taking him in. As if he was a puzzle she could solve with careful study. His platinum hair glowed in the darkness and the moonlight played on the sharp, handsome planes of his face. The blood on his lip only accented the finely cut sensuality of his full mouth, which was twisted up into an insolent smirk at the moment. He looked dangerous and sexy and far too pleased with himself.

She was reminded of a line from Peter Pan, and could practically hear Spike crowing it now:

“ Oh the cleverness of me! ”

That struck a chord – there was only one thing that ever quieted the Pan.
Finally Buffy seized upon the single thing in the world that would shut Spike up.

She kissed him.



** Can you believe I just left it there? Bad, bad Rosie...;p Maybe I'll give you just one more chapter. Don't want to torture you too much...**