Revelations

A few hours later, Spike was going mad wondering what was going on with her. He figured he could treat her to dinner to make it up to her and cheer her up. He went to her room and knocked on the door. No answer. His eyes narrowed and he knocked again. "Pet? Buffy?" No answer. He was just about to start hunting for her when the door flew open to reveal a sleepy, tousled Buffy.

"What's wrong?" She asked, yawning.

He smiled at how cute she looked. "Have a nice nap?"

She nodded. "Apparently I was tired. Come in."

He followed her inside, resisting the urge to reach out run his fingers
through her tousled locks. "Wanted to know if you wanted to get something
to eat?"

She nodded, "yeah. I'm hungry now that I'm awake. Have a seat; I'm just
going to freshen up."

He sat in her ‘living room' and flicked on the TV, waiting for her to come
back. When she did, she looked awake and fresh. Her hair brushed, her
makeup reapplied, her skin glowing. She was even smiling a bit. "Ready?"

He nodded and followed her out.

They opted to eat in the hotel restaurant and they sat in amiable silence
and watched the people around them float here and there.

Suddenly, Buffy turned to him and said conversationally. "Let's do
something fun tonight."

Spike blinked. She wanted his company for longer than dinner? She
wanted to spend time with him? He tried to recover his shock quickly.

"Like what?"

She shrugged. "Something fun." She leaned forward, her eyes glittering
with mischief. "Let's go club hopping. We'll make it a rule that we have to

have at least one drink before we move on to the next one. And . . . . among
the clubs we have to hit is a female strip club and a male strip club."

Now his jaw dropped. Was this the same straight-laced Buffy he'd known
since high school? "Are you serious?"

She nodded, smiling devilishly. "Very."

"You want to watch women strip," he said matter of factly.

She shrugged, "why not? We are in New York; we might as well take
advantage of it, right? You done yet?" She pointed at his food.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Let's go then," and she stood, dropping some bills on the table before
waltzing off. He followed suit and ran after her. He grinned in anticipation
as he watched her behind sway out the door.

They'd been to two clubs and she'd had two drinks so far. She was loose
and smiling and talking animatedly to Spike who was sucking up the
attention and basking in it. It helped that he was her sole companion, but
they were learning things about each other that one or both of them had
never taken the time to learn before. For Buffy, she liked him the more she
learned and for Spike, he was falling in love that much more the more he
learned. She enjoyed his ability to adapt to his surroundings and was
learning from him how to do that. He was learning that whenever she was nervous, she leaned on him and by the time they had started for their third club, she'd taken to holding onto his arm as she laughed about some of the freaks they'd encountered in the previous club. He laughed along with her and easily slipped his hand over hers, securing her hand in place on his arm, possessively. He wanted the world to know that she was his. It didn't matter to him that the girl on his arm knew it yet, for tonight at least, she was his.

Entering their third club, Spike watched bug eyed as he took in the writhing half naked bodies of what appeared to be a fantasy/sex club. He looked over at Buffy whose jaw had dropped to the ground and was paling considerably by the minute. She gulped and looked at him, unconsciously tightening her hand on his arm. "I don't know, Spike."

He grinned, "come on. You wanted to experience New York. Let's
experience it."

She gestured at the bodies around them engaged in…she tilted her head to
the side. Was that couple--?

"Try not to gawk, sweetheart," he told her in her ear and he could smell
the sweet scent of warm vanilla waft through his nose. God, he wanted to
eat her up. She looked up at him wide-eyed and nodded. He noticed though,
that she plastered herself at his side.

"Let's get our one drink," she told him and led him to the bar.

Once at the bar, she allowed herself some room from him and while they
waited, she swiveled to watch the crowd.

"Hey beautiful."

Buffy looked to see who was talking and who he was talking to when she
realized that dark haired man was talking to HER.

"H-hi."

His eyes raked over her body, "how you doing?"

"Good, how are you?"

He chuckled and leaned in, "I'll be doing great if you agree to dance with
me." Boldly, he ran a hand down her bare arm and licked his lips.

"The lady is with me," Spike spoke up. She looked up at him and was
startled to find Spike looking about ready to pummel the guy. Huh,
whaddya know. Spike was defending her honor. Spike wrapped his arm
around her shoulders and brought her close.

"How about a sandwich?" The guy asked.

Buffy's jaw dropped for the hundredth time. Spike glared. "No, I don't
share her."

The guy shrugged and walked off.

Buffy smiled up at Spike, "Spike Marsters, you're my hero," she said,
imitating Cameron from Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

Spike laughed and handed her the beer she ordered. "Want to watch?"

"Let's walk around. I want to see stuff."

Spike laughed and noted that she must have felt braver because she was
no longer plastered against him. He missed it; he wanted her back by his
side again.

Spike couldn't help but find the whole atmosphere incredibly erotic as he
watched couples writhe, make out and just about fornicate all over the club.
The smell of sex, perfume, cologne and sweat permeated the air and it was
intoxicating. Stopping suddenly and blatantly watching the activity, Spike
watched with hunger as Buffy nibbled her bottom lip. She looked up at him
and grinned saucily before grabbing his hand and leading him to the floor.
"Teach me," she told him. "I want to dance like that." She pointed to the
grinding bodies on the floor and Spike gulped this time.

"Buffy," he started uncertainly. She flung herself into his arms and wrapped herself around him. He groaned at the feeling. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her even closer, molding their bodies together and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He stared into her wondrous green eyes and lost himself. Letting the music over take him and the feel of her body against his, he began to move slowly, letting her feel every part of him as he did her. She looked shook up, but determined to do this at the same time. He watched her eyes and the emotions reflected in their green depths. He couldn't really decipher many of them, but he enjoyed trying to figure it out. He felt himself rise in arousal and didn't care any longer if she felt it. He knew the minute she did though because she laughed and pushed herself away from him, shaking her finger at him.

"Naughty boy," she teased him.

He grabbed her, hauling her against him again, "let's both be naughty."

She laughed again and pushed him away. "Now, now. I have a boyfriend.
You have to be nice," and she bounded off, grabbing his hand. "Next club!"

He followed her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her and lose himself in
her, claim her, mark her, make her his. He couldn't though. He had to keep
himself in check or he'd lose her forever by acting rashly. His heart was
thumping in his chest and he was nearly shaking with desire. God, this had
never happened to him. What kind of spell had she cast on him?

The next club was a female strip club, which did not help his raging libido.
Was it him or did all the girls look like her? Oh God, he couldn't even look at
gorgeous naked women without seeing her. What was happening to him?
He was obsessed.

She watched in open fascination and contemplativeness. She pointed at the
girl stripping on stage. "I could do that."

Spike groaned and his head dropped to the table. Images of Buffy stripping
for him danced in his head.

She laughed at him, "what's wrong?"

He looked up at her with unbridled lust, "are you trying to kill me?"

She looked taken aback. As if she might not know that she was desired, as
if she might not know that he wanted her. "Want to go?"

"Do you?"

"You uh seem a little bothered. Maybe too much stimulation."

He stared at her hotly until she began to fidget. "Stop."

"Stop what?" He asked innocently.

"Looking at me like that. I'm not them, remember?" She put her hand on
his face and turned his head towards the women stripping. "Direct that at
them. Not me."

He turned back to her. "Impossible."

She furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"Because I'm not in love with any of them," he blurted out.

He regretted it a second later when her eyes bugged out of her head and
she looked as if she had to run far, far away. She stood unsteadily and
grabbed her purse.

"Buffy, wait, please."

She smacked his hand away and quickly rushed away from him. He ran
after her, finally catching up with her outside. "Buffy—"

"Are you crazy? What the hell are you thinking?" She screamed at him,
spinning to face him. "How many have you had? You don't go around saying
stuff like that—what is going on with you?"

"I'm not drunk. I'm not crazy although, you certainly make me feel that
way. Especially when you're being so bloody difficult!"

She pointed at herself, poking herself in the chest. "I'm difficult? Me? I'M
DIFFICULT?"

"Yes! Do you know that I spent most of my high school existence trying to
get your attention? All I got was your scalding hatred."

"Well if you weren't UP MY ASS all the time MAYBE you would've gotten
more!"

"I wouldn't have been UP YOUR ASS if you'd tried to at least be nice to
me!"

"You wanted me to be nice to you? You dumped Jell-O in my hair the first
day of school, you tried to scare my prom date away by telling him you
were my brother that just escaped from jail, you nearly had me killed when
you got your license and I almost ended up meeting the business end of
cow—no, tell me Spike, why SHOULD I have been nice to you? You did
everything you could to drive me absolutely INSANE!"

He threw up his hands. "Don't you see? Don't you see that all of that was to
try to get your attention?"

"Yeah, it got my attention Spike. I spent most of my high school existence and then at least half of my college life wanting to maim you."

"See? I grew on you. You only wanted to hurt me half of your college life."

"Only because you went away to California for two years, remember?"

"Oh."

"Yeah. Listen. Let's just forget that you had that slip up in there and move
on. You had a lot of stimulation tonight. You're a guy; you're all about the
visual. I'm a girl, I was . . . here. It's normal. Lust maybe, but not love."

He shook his head. "I can't pretend anymore Buffy. I can't. I love you. I
always have and I always will."

"What are you talking about you always have. You have NOT always have
and you will not always WILL."

He stepped forward, grabbing her by the waist and bringing her closer to
him. "I have. I do. And I will."

She pushed him away and shook her head. "I have a boyfriend. You just. . .
"

"Just what?"

"You just want me because I'm with someone else!"

"The someone else you don't love you mean?"

She glared at him, nearly spitting daggers from her eyes and she spun
around and started off without him. Sprinting after her, Spike fell in step
beside her no matter how fast or how hard she tried to get rid of him.

"You can tell me you hate me all you want, but the fact is you don't. You
can't deny that there's heat between us, Buffy."

She snorted. "You're nuts."

"You made me that way."

She stopped and turned to him. "So what can I do to stop it?"

He shook his head, grinning at her almost sadly. "Nothing sweetheart.
You're stuck with me."

"Lucky me," she muttered and stalked off again.

The way back was wrought with silence although Spike could see her
stealing glances at him every once in a while. Of course when he looked at her, she turned away haughtily. He shook his head and sighed. She could be

right difficult when she put her mind to it.

"I'll be by at ten. Be ready," she told him at her hotel room door before nearly slamming the door in his face.

Sighing heavily, Spike wondered how that possibly could have gone worse.

She'd overslept. She knew it the minute her eyes popped open and landed
on Spike's concerned blue ones.

"What time is it? How'd you get in my room?" She asked groggily as she
struggled to sit up.

"It's ten and there is a door that joins our rooms. I found the key and let
myself in. You feeling all right?"

"Yeah, apparently my alarm didn't go off. Shit. We have time. It's all right.
It doesn't matter what I look like." She crawled out of the bed and looked
around the room, lost for minute. "Okay, note book," she picked up the
notebook with all her notes she prepared for the interview and thrust it at
him. "Look this over while I shower. If you have any questions, then we'll
cover them on our way. Sound good?"

He nodded, "pet, you do you want me to order you something?"

"No time. Just read. I'll be out in fifteen."

She rushed into the bathroom and took a quick shower, dressing even
quicker as she tried to make herself presentable with a tooth brush stuck in
her mouth. Rushing out of the bathroom to gather her things, she found
Spike staring at her, slightly wide-eyed.

"What?"

He shook his head.

She shrugged and slid on her socks and shoes. She stood. "I'm ready. You
ready? You have your coat?"

He pointed to the bed where it was draped.

"Okay, let's go."
"Did you go over the possible questions and the answers? I made a list of
what to avoid answering and how to deflect certain uncomfortable questions." She took the notebook from him as they entered the elevator.
She began flipping through the notebook.

"Okay, this one. The girlfriend question. You don't have a girlfriend right
now so it's not a big deal—"

"And if I did?"

"Then you'd tell them that you wish to not discuss your personal life."

"Is Cordy going to reassign you?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "Why would she do that?"

"Well, I assume that you can't date a client. So when we start dating, does
that mean that I'd have to find a new representative?"

She stared at him, floored. Her mind was still groggy and was unable to
focus on more than one thing at a time. Switching gears at that point was
difficult and what he just said made her wonder if there was something
about last night she'd missed.

"What?" She asked, dumbfounded.

"When we start dating—"

"Whoa, back that bus up. WHEN we start DATING?" She shook her head.
"We're not dating Spike. Did I say something that led you to believe we
would?"

"You don't love Angel."

"I don't love you either."

He appeared stung at that and she shrugged it off. "Who the hell do you
think you are making decisions for me?"

He leaned in close. "I'm the guy that loves you. I'm also the guy you DO
love."

"Angel loves me too."

"But you don't love him. You love me."

"Are you mentally challenged?"

He clucked his tongue in disapproval and shook his head.

"We're not dating Spike. I don't love you, you don't love me. I have a
boyfriend and I'm committed to making it work. I find it rather scummy
that you would try to get with someone that's involved."

"I'm not trying to ‘get with' you, Buffy. I'm trying to love you and make
you happy."

"You want to make me happy?"

He nodded.

"Then just shut up and let me do my job. You do your job; I do my job and
nothing else. Got it?"

He sighed and looked toward the elevator doors. "For now."

"God, you're just so –"She stopped when the elevator doors opened.
"Annoying," she hissed as they exited.

"And you're not?" He asked her out loud.

She glared at him. "And you claim to love me. Ha!"

He glared back and she strode forward, ignoring him.

In the car, she refused to look at him. She stared out the window as she
thought about them. Their life up until now. How he'd always been this
permanent fixture in her life that she just couldn't seem to get rid of. He
was always right there by her side. He seemed to do everything he could to
annoy her and yet he was always there to comfort her when she was down.
Funny how she never focused on those times very much.

"Remember when I didn't get the part in The Tempest?" She blurted out
suddenly, still not looking at him.

"You were devastated. Didn't want to talk to anyone."

"You found me at the library."

"All the way in the back."

"You brought a flask of tequila with you."

"You were all wound up about getting caught, but you took some anyway."

"You always seemed to be there when I didn't even know I needed
someone."

"Sixth sense."

She looked at him now, "is that what it is?"

He smiled, just a ghost of one and shook his head. "No. It's love, pet. It's
because I love you."

"When?"

"Been so long I can't even remember when. Just always was."

"Why? I'm horrible to you."

"Sometimes, I deserve it. But you haven't been that way to me always.
Those times, like the one at the library . . . you weren't awful to me then.
We talked, really talked and we didn't argue once."

She nodded slowly, looking down. She looked up at him then and gazed at
him. He was watching her, wondering, she knew, what was going on in her
head. And as she stared at him, all those times when he had been there
started coming at her playing like a movie in her mind. Before she even
realized what she was doing, she was in his arms and on his lap and they
were kissing as if there was no tomorrow. He was devouring her lips,
moaning as he tried to practically pull her into himself.

"I love you, god, I love you so much," he breathed when they parted for
oxygen. He was on her in an instant and she wound her arms around him,
playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The limo screeching to a halt jolted her out of their passion. "Spike, we're
here," she told him, breaking away.

He looked at her, his gaze full of lust and love. "I don't care. Cancel it. I've
got my girl in my arms; I don't care about a bloody interview."

"Spike, we can't do that," she crawled off his lap and flung the door open,
crawling out. He followed suit a moment later and immediately grabbed for
her, pulling her against him and nuzzling her neck.

"Spike . . . stop. You're making a scene."

"So then let's make a scene. I don't care. You're my girl and I don't care
who knows it."

"Interview," she told him firmly and pushed at him, righting her clothes.

He sighed and grabbed her hand. "Can I at least do this?"

She shook her head, "that'll lead to questions. Professional, Spike, okay?"

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "You're bloody impossible
you know that? Got my motor all revved and ready—"

"You'll live. Let's go."