A Ghost Of A Chance

Part Six

Spike examined the window in front of him, a thoughtful frown on his face. After a moment's contemplation, he dug out a credit card he'd stolen long ago, but only used for this sort of activity.

"Billy, tell me you aren't going to break into the Slayer's room," Nia said.

"I'm not going to break into the Slayer's room," Spike said, sliding the hard plastic up under the window.

"Now, why do I think you're lying through your fangs?" Nia asked.

The lock slowly slid over and Spike grinned. Dropping the card back into the depths of his duster pocket, he pushed open the first floor window. He gestured dramatically inside. "Women and ghosts first."

"I should hurt you for this," Nia grumbled as the vampire climbed through the window. She disappeared and reappeared sitting on Willow's bed. "Breaking and entering is not on the good behavior charts."

"So hurt me," Spike said with a shrug. "It's not going to stop me from doing this."

With a grin still plastered on his face, he pulled his Rob Zombie CD out of his pocket and walked over to the stereo. He put the CD in the player and set it for continuous repeat on track three, then adjusted the volume so it was loud enough to be heard, but not to disturb the neighbors. He was a courteous vampire.

"You're a nut," Nia muttered.

"'Dead I am the one, exterminating son,'" Spike began to sing as he set the case on top of the stereo. He ran his hand across Buffy's comforter as he walked over to her desk. He grabbed a notebook off the shelf bolted to the wall and dropped it on the middle of the desk, then drummed on it with his hands. "'Dead I am the sky, watching angels cry...'"

Pulling out the chair, he took a seat and opened the middle desk drawer in search of a pen. He found a clear box of colored paperclips and took it out. Opening the box, he began to hook the different colored clips together in a chain for all of two minutes before he got bored. He draped it around his neck, closed the box and stuck it back in the drawer, then removed a pen.

He tapped on the edge of the desk with a pen and his finger like drumsticks before he shut the drawer and opened the notebook. "Blank page, blank page, blank page," he said as he turned each filled notebook page, searching for an empty one. His leg bounced rapidly under the desk. "Blank page, blank page, bla-...well, what do we have here?"

"Hopefully her plan to stake your hyper-active hide," Nia commented.

Spike didn't pay any attention to Nia, he was too busy examining the page in front of him. He reached over and turned on the desk lamp for better lighting than just that coming through the open window. "Now, this is quite interesting," he murmured, his ego swelling as he looked at the sketches. Sketches of him, according to the little captions under each one. Lots of them. In various poses. Was that one of him laying naked on his bed, asleep?

"Cor, it is," he realized, leaning forward to look closer at the picture. The caption read: "It's not fair." He wondered what was not fair and if he really looked like that when he was sleeping. If so, it was no wonder the ladies tended to stare at him like a piece of chocolate. He was damn good looking.

Nia snorted. "Not."

"Sod off," Spike told her, continuing his perusal. He saw a little heart in the corner of the page and sat back abruptly, surprised. He couldn't have seen what he thought he'd seen.

"What did you see?" Nia asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly, his eyes heading for that little heart again. It was still there. It hadn't been his imagination. It created a strange, mushy feeling inside of him that he wasn't sure if he liked or not. It felt like any second he was going to heave.

He sat, unmoving, staring at the little heart for several minutes -- an amazing feat for his currently hyper-active self. The song repeated itself again and his mind slipped back to earlier when he'd been playing with the Slayer. She had smelled so very good, felt even better pressed flush against him, and he wanted nothing more than to sink to the floor and make love to her. He had started to purr to tease her, but when she tilted her neck purposely for him, his purr went from teasing to loving.

"Oh fuck," Spike swore, his eyes widening as it hit him. "Bloody fucking hell."

"What's wrong, Billy?" Nia asked.

"Stop calling me Billy," he said in a stunned voice. It couldn't be true. He didn't want it to be true.

Or did he?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, leaning his elbows on the desk and dropping his head into his hands. One simple, joking action designed to make the Slayer flustered had an unforseen circumstance attached to it. It was almost reminiscent of how he got cursed.

Only he had killed Nia, not fallen in love with her.

"Bugger," Spike sighed resignedly. It was true. He was in love with the Slayer.

Now, what was he going to do about it?

As he uncapped the pen, a smile spread over his face. He turned to a fresh page in the notebook and began to write.

Buffy inserted her key into her dorm room door and yawned tiredly. The dance had been fun; a nice, relaxing way to spend a Friday night, but she felt as though something were missing the entire time. It wasn't as if things had changed, Willow was still with Oz, Xander was the single girl-crazy fool and she was single, as well. They had laughed and danced and did the same things they'd done at the previous dances, but things seemed off.

Not bothering to worry about it, she opened her door with the intent of going straight to bed. Instead, she froze in the doorway as music drifted to her from her stereo.

Dead I am the rat, feast upon the cat
Tender is the fur, dying as you purr

It would have to be that verse. Her knees turned to liquid as she was immediately transported back several hours to the music store. She grabbed the doorframe and steadied herself before she swooned.

"Get it together, Buffy," she told herself firmly. Straightening, she flipped on the light, entered her dorm room and closed the door behind her. Willow was staying with Oz that night, so she would have the room to herself. She set her purse and keys on the small dresser, then moved to the stereo on a stack of crates beside it. The Rob Zombie CD case was sitting on top of it and she picked it up, unable to help the quirk of her lips.

"Spike, you are...well, I no longer know what you are, but whatever it is, you're it." She put the case down and pressed stop on the player. She knew she should be mad that he had been in her room, but instead she felt pleased that he would go through all the trouble to do something like this -- even if it was a little on the silly side. Unless he was sending her a message.

That thought caused her knees to weaken again. Could he want her like she wanted him in the store? Did she want him to want her like that? "No, I do not," she stated.

Her body called her a liar and her mind wasn't too far behind.

With a frustrated sigh, she turned off the stereo and kicked off her shoes. She turned to grab her pyjamas off the bed and stopped when she saw a notebook sitting in the center of it, surrounded by a paperclip chain. Rounding the side of the bed, she smirked at the paperclips and picked the open notebook up.

The first thing she noticed was Spike's handwriting. It was a combination of printing and cursive, angled the wrong way because he was left-handed. She rolled her eyes when she saw he had addressed it 'Slayer' instead of her name. She wondered if he would ever call her Buffy. Maybe he would while they were in the crux of orgasm...

Buffy violently pushed that thought away with a blush staining her cheeks. She turned her attention to reading the note, rather than fantasizing about the writer.

Slayer~

"It has to be admitted that we English have sex on the brain, which is a very unsatisfactory place to have it."

Tomorrow, one o'clock, at the mansion. A much better place, don't you agree?

Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed, her breath catching in her throat. That was all the note read, but it said so much more. Spike did want her as much as she wanted him. She didn't know whether to rejoice or run.

And she only had until tomorrow at one to decide.

"My headstone is going to read: 'Here lies the Slayer, she died either fighting vampires or sleeping with them,'" Buffy muttered, as she approached the mansion's front door. She smoothed down her skirt in a nervous gesture, then did the same with her upswept hair. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.

She had spent the rest of the night and most of the morning tossing and turning in bed. What sleep she did get was filled with dreams so hot, she woke up panting and sweating. By eleven, she decided to forget thinking and go with what her body wanted her to do -- give herself to Spike. She'd spent the rest of the time getting ready for zero hour.

Her dorm room looked like a disaster area in her attempts to find something to wear that was sexy and easy to remove, but not slutty. She finally settled on a simple black knee-length skirt and a man's Oxford dress shirt with the top three buttons left open. Underneath she was wearing a white, lace bra that gave her more cleavage than she normally had and matching panties. On her feet were thin-strapped, black heels.

Buffy put her hand on the doorknob and sent a silent thought of apology to Giles, who was going to maxi-wig when news of her liaison with another member of the undead reached his ears. Then she opened the door and went inside.

A surprise met her right at the door. Lit candles made a path in the curtained mansion from the front door towards the hallway. Flower petals were scattered along the same path, the scent of jasmine and roses hitting her senses. After closing the door behind her, she followed the trail to the bedroom she knew belonged to Spike. Through the partially open door, she could hear soft music and she could see more candles. She pushed the door open further and saw Spike across the room, standing in the shadows, as he held the dark curtain back so he could look outside.

He must have heard her because he turned his head. A slow, seductive smile spread across his lips and he released the dark curtain. He swung back into place over the window, blocking out the daylight and allowing the only illumination to be the candles scattered throughout the bedroom. He moved with sure, steady steps towards her, his bare feet silent on the floor, the dark slacks he was wearing molding to his legs with each step.

Buffy swallowed heavily as he stopped directly in front of her. He was wearing an open black button-down over and equally black t-shirt, a testament to his bad boy persona. With her thick, three-inch heels, she was almost the same height as him and she had no choice but to meet his gaze directly.

Spike's eyes were like twin pools of water reflecting a cloudless, bright blue sky. They glowed with intensity and barely suppressed passion. She found herself being drawn into them, her face moving closer to his on its own accord. She stopped three inches from her mouth being pressed to his and unconsciously licked her lips.

Then the intensity in his eyes was replaced by the intensity of his kiss. She absently heard the door close behind her before she felt his arms move around her. His hands splayed against her lower back and the back of her head, holding her as his mouth melted together with hers. His tongue lightly brushed her lips before it dipped inside to sweep against hers.

Sensations bombarded her. Everything became clearer and at the same time more fuzzy. She could hear the whisper of his shirt brushing against hers, but the music faded away. The scent of the candles disappeared under the purely male scent of the man holding her. Where he touched her, her skin felt like it was on fire despite the layer of material between his hands and her body.

His kisses consumed her. She had no coherent thought in her mind, she could only feel the coolness of his lips, their firmness, the possessiveness of them as they claimed hers. His tongue demanded and coaxed and asked all at the same time, causing her to cling to him as her body went weak with desire. Her pulse was racing beneath her skin, her breathing was erratic, her muscles were quivering with the spiral of tension that was building within her.

Spike's hand slid down from her lower back over the curve of her buttock and he pulled her closer to him. She could feel the hard length of his erection beneath his pants and she moved her hips in a small circle, rubbing herself against him. He tore his mouth away from hers and inhaled sharply, the sound music to her ears. She opened her eyes to meet his and she visibly shook from the hunger she saw in his gaze.

Somehow, she ended up on the bed with him, their clothing a pile on the floor, the candlelight highlighting their naked bodies. His hands caressed her, his lips and tongue tasted her, his cool length pressed against her. Her body hummed under his ministrations and when he nudged her legs apart, she accepted him without hesitation, opening herself for his loving.

Their eyes met and held as he thrust into her for the first time. She gasped at the sensation of his shaft stretching her, filling her. He growled deep in his chest, the sound rolling across the room like thunder. Then his mouth was upon hers again, his tongue plunging between her lips, and he began to move.

She felt like she was flying and fighting and exploding and dying. Her legs were hooked over his and he was pressed almost flush against her, his muscular forearms on either side of her. Her arms were around his back, her fingers rubbing along his skin, trembling with every stroke that brought her closer to the edge.

He shifted and she felt his hand move between them and then his fingers touching her most sensitive spot. She ripped her mouth away from his with a harsh gasp as the world dropped out under her and she fell into an orgasm so intense it burned her from the inside out. Her body shuddered and quaked and trembled under him as she drowned in a sea of colors and feelings.

She barely heard his guttural snarl or felt his body tense over her or his shaft pulsing deep inside of her as he climaxed. She couldn't catch her breath or open her eyes or even move. If the world was on fire, she'd have no choice but to let it burn.

The first sensations she felt afterwards were cool, soft kisses on her forehead, on both of her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips. Next, her heart slowed enough for her to pick up quiet purring and then she felt the vibrations from his chest pressed against hers. Finally, she was able to open her eyes to find that heaven looked a lot like Spike's bedroom.

Spike's mouth continued placing kisses along her jawline, the purring growing louder the closer he got to her ear. He kissed the tender spot right behind the lobe and his purr stopped only to emit words that were spoken so softly, if his mouth hadn't been at her ear, she never would have heard them. "I love you, Buffy."

In her heart, she knew immediately she had no choice but to love him, too.

Her hand moved up to brush the back of his hair and she pressed a kiss to his shoulder before telling him so. His purring stopped, the room falling into silence save for the soft music she'd forgotten was playing, and he raised his head. Startled blue eyes met her hazel ones and he stared as if he were searching for the truth to her words.

Then a smile brighter than any sun she'd ever seen appeared and she suddenly found herself on top of one trembling vampire, still intimately connected, as he held her tightly to him. When their lips met again, it was with a tenderness that can only be born from love.

Part Seven

Spike couldn't believe he told Buffy he loved her. Granted, he had been thinking it and he'd just had mind-blowing sex, so he wasn't in full control of his facilities, but he shouldn't have said it. It wasn't that it wasn't true and she had responded in kind, which meant that everything was good, but still... What if she hadn't felt the same way? What if she had was only caught up in the moment? What if she had only said it because he had said it? What if she only said it and didn't mean it?

He had to get out of the bedroom. He had to think. He had to run far away. He had to blow out the candles before something caught fire. Was she snoring?

Spike glanced down at the woman curled up against him. Yes, she was snoring. A light little feminine snore that made a smile curl up his lips. She looked so peaceful and content. She looked so very beautiful. She looked like she'd just made love or had won a really vigorous fight. He needed to blow out the candles.

Carefully, he extracted himself from under her and climbed out of the bed. He adjusted the covers over her, then picked up his pants and slid them on. He blew out all the candles in the bedroom except for two, turned off his portable stereo and paused at the end of the bed to look at the sleeping Slayer.

He couldn't believe he told her he loved her. He had only figured it out for himself the night before and his first reaction had been to curse. Why hadn't she cursed? Why hadn't she figured it out for herself? Why did he tell her? Why did she say she loved him back? Why was he standing and looking at her when he had candles to blow out?

Spike's feet cracked as he quickly made his way to the door. He opened it and reared back, startled. Nia was standing across from the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him before hissing, "You almost bloody scared the demon right out of me."

Nia grinned. "That would have been an interesting sight."

He glared at her, then bent to pick up the candle next to the door and blew it out. He set it down and picked up the one on the other side of the door, then blew it out. He set it down, walked forward three feet, picked up the candle on the left side of the hallway, blew it out and set it down again. He turned and picked up the candle on the right side of the hallway...

"What's wrong, Billy-boy?" Nia asked. "You're concentrating awful hard on blowing out those candles."

"Nothing," Spike said quickly. Of course, that was a lie. He told Buffy he loved her. She told him she loved him. He didn't know if it was true. He didn't know if she was lying. He didn't know if she knew if she was telling the truth. He didn't know if she knew if she was lying. He didn't know why the hell he had lit so many damn candles.

"Oh, this is fun," Nia commented. "You're even more hyper after sex then you are after sleeping too much."

"I'm not hyper," Spike told her, grabbing yet another candle and blowing it out.

"Whatever the term is then," Nia said. "And you told her that you loved her? Already?"

"Like you didn't know," he scowled. "Bloody peeping ghost."

"I did not listen in on you two," she said. "I promised that your bedroom was your sanctuary. I would only know if you tried to munch on her. I'm not into porn."

"Go away," Spike said.

Nia waved her hand and the rest of the candles went out. "Not on your unlife, this is too much fun."

Spike put the candle in his hand down, then stomped to the kitchen. He practically ripped the refrigerator door off before he grabbed a container of blood and plunked it down on the counter. Nia appeared on the counter beside the container and he jumped back. "Bloody hell, Nia!"

"You really need to relax," Nia said seriously. The grin on her face belied her serious tone.

"You need to leave me the fuck alone," he growled.

"Never going to happen," she stated.

Spike rubbed a hand over his face and wondered how long it would take for the sun to burn him into a little pile of ash.

"15.7 seconds."

"Bugger off."

"Hey, I left you alone all morning while you pranced around lighting candles and throwing flower petals everywhere," Nia said. "Well, I really left you alone because it was so amusing. I still don't believe that you went out into the garden in the sun to get those flowers."

Spike didn't believe that he did that, either. He had wanted everything to be perfect for some odd reason. Flowers seemed like a good idea at the time. Flowers were a good idea anytime. Women liked flowers. Nancyboys like his sire liked flowers. Would Buffy like a flower? Maybe he should go out and get one. He could put it on the night-stand where she would see it when she woke up. But what if she didn't like flowers? She could be the one woman who didn't...

"Oh, for pete's sake," Nia said. She waved her hand and a flower appeared in front of Spike on the counter. "Will you just give her the flower and stop thinking about it? I'm the one who's suppose to annoy you, not the other way around."

"Stay out of my head and you wouldn't have a bleedin' problem," Spike told her. He picked up the white daisy and headed back out of the kitchen.

He came to an abrupt stop in front of his bedroom door, debating whether or not to enter. She could be awake already. She could be awake and thinking about how she told him she loved him. She could be awake and thinking about how she told him she loved him and how it was a lie. She could be awake and thinking that she'd just had the worst sex of her life. She could be awake and comparing him to Angel. She could be awake and comparing him to Angel and deciding his sire was better.

He heard Nia yell, "Just give her the flower already!!"

"Sod off!" Spike yelled back. He glowered at the door, clenched his jaw, then opened it and walked into the bedroom before he smartened up.

Buffy was still sleeping. And snoring. She had a cute snore. He wondered if he snored. Could someone who didn't breathe snore? Could he get any more pathetic?

Spike quickly set the flower on the night-stand and left the bedroom again, closing the door firmly behind him. He leaned against it and thumped the back of his head on the hard wood. He had to be the biggest wanker on the face of the earth. Maybe even the galaxy. Or galaxies. Or the universe. Aliens were probably laughing their parts off at him. Antennae and tentacles were littering spaceships everywhere.

"You are so strange," Nia said, appearing in front of him.

"AH!" Spike yelped, smacking his head hard on the door. He glared at her, his head throbbing. "Don't fucking do that!"

"And miss out on all the fun of you screaming like a wimp? Never," she said.

"If you weren't already dead, I'd kill you," he growled.

"Hostility is a sign of sexual frustration," Nia said. "Was she not good in the sack?"

Spike's eyes flashed gold. "Don't."

"Are you telling me what to do?" Nia asked threateningly.

"Yes," Spike replied, his true face appearing as he lost control. Too many emotions and thoughts, combined with his current hyper-active state of mind, were rolling through him to keep a handle on it. He took a step away from the door towards the ghost.

Nia narrowed her eyes at him. "Watch it, Billy."

"I FUCKING TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING ME BILLY!!!" Spike roared. He drew back his left arm and threw a punch with all his might at Nia. It went through her and straight into the wall, cracking the stone and shattering the bones in his hand.

The bedroom door flew open and Buffy stood in a fighting stance wearing Spike's discarded black t-shirt, her hair sticking up, a wild look in her eyes from being woken suddenly. Spike spun around to face her, snarling, his broken hand pulled protectively near his waist. Buffy fell back, looking like someone punched her in the gut, her face paling.

Nia threw out her arm as if brushing someone away and Spike flew back and was pinned to the wall. She put herself between him and Buffy, her anger causing a ghostly wind to whip through the hallway, raising her hair and that of the Slayer's, and the door to the bedroom slammed shut with Buffy on the other side. A bolt of blue-white energy exploded from her hand and struck Spike on his bare stomach. He howled in pain, unable to move to protect himself. His skin burned from the inside, the top-most layer turning black and charring.

The ghost let him go and he fell forward to the ground. He put his hands out to catch himself and collapsed onto his left forearm as the broken bones connected with the stone floor. The door was wrenched open by his head and he caught a glimpse of the Slayer as she dashed past him.

"Slayer, wait!" he yelled out, his voice wracked with pain. "Slayer!"

The slam of the front door rang throughout the mansion.

"Damn you, Nia," Spike growled, pushing himself to his feet.

"Serves you right," Nia snapped.

"But the Slayer didn't do anything and you're bloody punishing her!"

"Me?!" Nia said. "You're the one who went to hit me, which wasn't one of your most shining moments. Ghost, remember?"

"She's going to think I've pulled an Angelus on her!" Spike yelled. "Bloody hell! You don't know what the fuck you've done to her!"

"Oh crap," Nia cursed. Spike knew that she was reading from his mind the images and thoughts of the past and what he pieced together from when Angelus had returned to the 'family.'

"Yeah, 'oh crap,'" he said sardonically. He walked painfully to the kitchen and opened the freezer, then stuck his broken hand in the ice bin. He urged the sun to set faster. He had a woman to find.

Buffy sat on her bed in her dorm room, clutching her pillow to her chest. She stared blankly across the wall at the Wiccan wall-hanging Willow had put up. She was still wearing Spike's t- shirt and nothing else, which had gotten her many catcalls as she ran onto campus and to her dorm. Luckily, her RA had been able to let her into her room with a simple lie of Willow having accidentally locked her out while she was in the bathroom.

Her mind had shut itself down protectively once she'd sat down on her bed. It refused to let her think the worst. She could only sit numbly and stare at the hanging.

"Um, Buffy?"

Buffy slowly turned her head and saw someone standing in her room. She blinked in surprise, pulling her away from the numbness. Her hands clenched into fists and she focused on the different ways to kill the person if she wasn't human. "Who are you and how the hell did you get in my room?"

"I'm Nia," Nia said, staying near the door. "And I need to talk to you about Spike."

Her expression grew wary and her heart started to hurt. "What about him?"

"What happened at the mansion wasn't his fault," Nia said. "Well, it was his fault, but it had nothing to do with you."

Buffy's wariness of the girl went off the charts. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Nia sighed. "I guess I should explain so you stop thinking of ways to off me and get back to the mansion before Billy drives himself insane waiting for the sun to set. I swear, that vampire can get so hyper, he makes coffee nervous."

Buffy was off the bed and in a fighting stance in an instant. "Alright, chicky, you have five seconds to explain or I'm going to use your head as my new doorstop."

"Now I can see why Billy lo-likes you," Nia said. "Both of you have the 'shoot first, ask questions later' mentality."

"Who the hell is this 'Billy' you keep referring to?" Buffy scowled. "Your five seconds is almost up. Two...one..."

"Spike and Billy are one in the same. I just call him that to annoy him," Nia replied. "And before you open your can of whup-ass, I have to tell you, you can't hurt me."

"And why is that?" Buffy asked sarcastically.

"Because I'm a ghost."

Continues