A/N - Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews you've been sending. Your words really help me to know what's working and that I'm not writing in a vacuum. When you write me, it makes it so much easier to keep going. Thank you!



CHAPTER FIVE

Spike ushered her into the empty elevator, trailed his finger over the buttons and punched one. "There."

"How did you do that?" Buffy questioned, still holding onto his free hand.

He blinked down at her. "How'd I do what? Walk across the courtyard to summon the lift?"

"No, you pig." She punched him lightly in the arm and softened the blow with a smile. "You just came to terms with losing your Reading Room. How did you do it?"

He shrugged. "Same way I came to terms with getting turned and meeting Angelus, getting a soul and burning up, and everything in between, around it and nearby. Nothing special, Slayer."

"It is special. You're not like other vampires."

"'Course not." Spike looked outraged at the thought he might be.

"I can really tell the difference between the master vamp I met years ago behind the Bronze, and who you are today. At the same time, you just told me there are parts of you that haven't really changed since the night you were turned. So how did you decide what to change?"

Spike looked sheepish and leaned back against the elevator wall. "Don't rightly know. Just take it moment by moment and do what I've had to do to survive. Then move on to the next moment. Like I said, it's nothing special. Eastern philosophers have been doing it for millennia. Here's our floor."

Buffy dogged the vampire as they moved into a hallway. "Do you think you're different from other vamps because the William part of you never left?"

"Don't know , pet. Before I came to love you, the Judge said I reeked of humanity. The human part of me might have had something to do with that." Consulting his museum guide, Spike wandered erratically down the echoing corridors, peering at this exhibit placard and that. "What we want's down this way. Can't show you my books, but I'm going to show you something of writing."

Turning into a small alcove, Spike reached back to catch Buffy's hand and pulled her close beside him.

"There you go." He gestured at something displayed upright behind thick glass.

Buffy peered at a small brass placard proclaiming, The Vindolanda Tablets. "That's nice. What am I looking at?"

"The oldest surviving handwritten documents in all of Britain."

"Great." Turning from the exhibit, Buffy leaned up against her companion. Pouting, she trailed her fingers across his chest. "Spike... aren't there any nice diamonds or sapphires to look at? I really liked seeing the Crown Jewels."

"Did you, now?" Smirking, the vampire slid his hands beneath Buffy's shirt and across her back. Nibbling on her ear, he murmured. "Told you, Slayer, everything in life tells a story whether you're aware of it or not. Your jewels and these tablets, they all got a tale to tell."

"And what might that tale be?" He could always hold her with just his voice. He'd done so from the moment he'd said he wanted to save the world and not just for the happy meals with legs.

Spike turned Buffy gently around before pulling her hard against him and nuzzling his nose against the back of her neck. The slow patterns his cool fingers were tracing on the Slayer's belly also helped hold her attention.

"Vindolanda in Northumberland is where these tablets were found." His cool breath tickled her hair. "They're from Roman Britain, late first or second century."

"So wha-at?" She gasped when his tongue dipped inside her ear. Keep doing that, and don't stop talking, she thought. Say anything, I'll listen.

"You taste good, Slayer." His purring vibrated against her back. "Always have. That there's a private letter. Written by a serving Roman soldier to his mistress."

Turning her head, Buffy stole a deep, lingering kiss before whispering, "You're lying."

"What makes you say that?" he asked against her mouth.

"First-century mistresses probably couldn't read."

"Ah, there you have me. Perhaps she was a Druidic mistress."

Buffy laughed against his mouth, loving the way his teeth were trying to nip at her. You are so full of it, Spike."

"Full and hard. Always am, where you're concerned." His erection pressed against her buttocks. He began rocking gently against her.

"You are so not getting off on me inside a dark little alcove in a very stuffy museum." Buffy's amused tone took any sting out of her words. Turning, she held Spike's face in her hand. Savoring the hard line of his cheekbone the desire in his eyes, she kissed him again. "Keep it for later when we can both savor the moment, okay?"

Still moving against her, he turned on the pout. "I'll be hard and aching with it for hours."

"And I know you'll enjoy it." Smirking, she turned back to the display. "Tell me more about these violina things."

"Tablets. Right." Nestling her against him just so, Spike resumed his scholarly lecture. "They found a lot of 'em with a lot of different handwriting. Adds to people's knowledge of Roman cursive writing from the first century."

"Why is that important?"

"I'm not quote sure." His voice dropped to a purr. "God, but you're warm. The warmer you get, the stronger I can scent you. Goes right to my head. Both of them."

His nose was in her ear. She felt him open his mouth and gasped, wondering if he'd gone all fangs a moment before the tip of his tongue flicked behind her ear and he tasted her. Spike moaned – a sound coming from deep inside him while his hands began shaking as they held her.

"Gods, Slayer. You've no idea...."

Dropping her head back against Spike's chest, Buffy reached back to grip the outside of Spike's thighs.

"Want you closer," she whispered. "Missed your touch. Missed dancing with you."

"Missed you too, pet." He kissed her temple. His fingers were nudging almost frantically beneath her jeans, seeking her warmth. "Need to touch you."

Sneaky, unwilling-to-wait-until-later fingers, she thought.

"You were making with the talky," Buffy managed to gasp just as Spike's cool fingers wiggled between her legs. "Telling me about... about... what was it?"

"First thought the tablets were made of wood and wax. Or papyrus." Purring softly, Spike pushed aside Buffy's throng and began rubbing her heat insistently.

"Oh, my god. Don't... stop...Ss-stop that. You have to..." She moaned, grabbing his wrist and holding it still. "Spike, we're in public."

"Yeah. Danger's half the fun, sweetheart. Let yourself feel it." His teeth worried her ear.

She moved against his fingers and began panting in rhythm with his touch. "Oh, god. Don't stop."

Pushing his nose against her cheek, Spike directed Buffy's attention to the shadowed recess behind the tablets they were supposed to be studying. "You think maybe someone's watching us? Some pathetic git of a guard's at some computer screen. Watching me pleasure you in this little room?"

The thought that someone might be watching them set her aflame, and his fingers were on the move again to drive the flames higher. Gripping his thighs harder, Buffy whimpered and writhed.

"So hot and wet for me already. My beautiful, beautiful Buffy." His free hand pulled her tighter against him.

Buffy squeaked and clamped her thighs together in an effort to still his fingers. "Wha... What are the tablets made of?"

Spike chuckled and let his fingers lay still against her. "Hot steel, that's what you are. Can feel you quivering for me already, Slayer. Want me inside you?"

"What are they... the thingies in the window...."

He eased away from her, and Buffy stumbled back a step.

"Spike! " she hissed. "Oh, God... please!" Her knees shook, she shuddered. Moving despite herself, Buffy desperately sought to increase the pressure of his touch.

Moving aside her hair, Spike raked his teeth over her bare throat. "Still want me to stop, pet?"

Buffy could only gasp as his fingers were busy between her legs again.

"The tablets are wafer...thin...slices...of wood." Spike punctuated each word by nipping Buffy's neck as he pushed his fingers deeper inside her. "The Romans used carbon in...quill-like...pens. Sharp. And hard. So beautiful...."

Buffy arched and gave a soft cry.

"There's my girl. So desperate and so close. You like the story I'm telling?"

Her climax approached.

"Don't stop, don't stop," she babbled, arching steadily to meet his touch.

"Thought you wanted to wait until—"

"No!" Reaching her arms over her head and back, Buffy grasped Spike's head. "Want you. Now. Harder. Please, Spike, please!"

Footsteps pounded just beyond their alcove, headed straight for it. The Slayer leaped away from her vampire half a moment before a boy rounded the corner. Skidding into the steel and glass display case, he stared up at the dimly lit tablets.

"What's this, mum?" he shouted, oblivious of the Slayer shuddering and panting so frantically behind him, of the man beside her whose eyes had gone amber.

"I don't know, Ronnie," a female voice called from outside the alcove. Paper rustled. "Oh, blast. This map is impossible to read."

Spike growled softly, and the boy whipped his head around. Bones shifted, bumpies appeared. A lip lifted and a fang was revealed as the growl grew louder.

Giving a screech, the boy bolted from the room. "Mummy, there's a wolf in there!"

"What are you on about, the wolves aren't on this floor. Stop darting about and stay with me. You want to see the mummies, don't you?"

"The wolf had glowy eyes and fangs and he growled me!"

"I think I've got this map sorted now, Ronnie. Come along."

"But Mama—"

"Stop yakking and come on!"

The boy pelted after his mother whose footsteps receded down the hall. Buffy whirled and stared up at Spike whose eyes flashed gold as he looked sheepishly down at her.

"Did you go all game-face on that child?"

"Er... Sorry 'bout that, Slayer."

The next moment, Buffy began giggling.

"Here now." Spike scowled. "You off your trolley, or are you laughin' at me?"

Buffy only laughed harder. Sliding close, she ran her arms around Spike's waist and hugged him tight. "You're right, everything is a story. Especially our love life."

He snorted, but returned her hug. "Ongoing soap opera's more like it."

"I told you we needed to wait." Reaching up on tiptoe, Buffy kissed him lightly.

"Hate it when you're right." He was still scowling. "I wanted--"

"I know what you wanted. We'll share later, I promise. In private." She kissed him again.

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart and kiss my big toe, Spike."

There was the suggestive leer Buffy had missed earlier, complete with tongue caught between neat white teeth. "Gonna kiss a lot more than your big toe, Slayer."

Be still, my frantic-beating heart, she thought, but it's nice to know the Spike I fell in lust and love with is still in there.

The next minute the tongue retreated, the blonde head hair tilted, and those blue eyes softened.

"Buffy...You do know that I love as well I want you?" he murmured. "If I'm pushing or going too fast, you have only to say so, and I'll—"

"I'm not saying a thing," she interrupted, laying a finger across his lips. "That is, I mean you're perfect. Exactly right for me."

"Perfect, am I?" The suggestive leer was back.

"Ego much, mister?" She blushed to remember begging for his touch and practically falling at his feet in a puddle of need. "I don't really think you could go too fast for me now. But you said earlier that we've never really been together, and that we should go slow, so...."

"Did say that, didn't I? Always knew I could be a bit dim." He nodded at the Vindolanda display behind her. "You seen enough of that, Slayer? Ready to move on?"

"Definitely." She linked her arm through his. "Where did you say those mummies are hiding?"