“Knew ‘d find you here,” Spike said with a satisfied smirk as he sat on the stool beside her.

Elizabeth snorted and continued to mix a deep midnight blue on her pallet. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m so hard to find…” she teased sarcastically.

“Weren’t in the bed,” Spike joked back, “and, believe me, I checked very thoroughly…” He gave her a lascivious little smirk.

She jutted out her lower lip playfully. “Now you make me feel bad that I missed it,” she pouted.

He chuckled and watched a rich shade of violet darken the paint before her brush snatched it up and stroked it across the pale canvas. “How’d classes go?” he asked curiously, watching the landscape unfold before him.

She scrunched up her nose. “Calculus is evil,” she decided. “Class is bad enough. Do we really have to have problem sessions as well?”

“Sometimes you can get the TA to do your homework for you,” Spike pointed out. “Try that.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Not my TA,” she sighed. “He doesn’t even speak English.”

“Chinese?” he inquired curiously.

“German,” she sighed.

“At least that’s remotely close to English,” he commented.

“Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she complained. Several more dark strokes, and the murky darkness became the outline of a shadowed tree. “What about you?” she inquired.

“Skipped Comparative Lit. Had a quiz in World History, so I went to that. Never take a class from Hinckley,” he advised with a shudder.

“Wasn’t planning to,” she agreed. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

“Can’t seem to keep anythin’ straight in his head. The man’s brilliant, but he delivers the most confusin’ lectures…” Spike trailed off. “That’s the lake behind my house,” he noticed as the silver ripples in the water became apparent.

“Yeah,” Elizabeth agreed with a little blush. “I like it there.”

“Like it there, too, kitten,” he agreed with a delighted little smile.

“I figured it was a good addition to the ‘Places That Have Changed My Life’ theme,” she commented before reaching in carefully with a tiny brush and adding white tips to the waves.

“Life changin’ experience, huh?” he whispered seductively, leaning in so close to her ear that she could feel his warm breath tingle her sensitive skin there.

She batted him away with her elbow. “I’m trying to paint here,” she pointed out.

“I don’t mind,” he countered unreasonably, nibbling gently at her ear.

“Don’t make me paint your tongue blue,” she threatened, eyes narrowed menacingly and paintbrush wavering in a threatening manner.

He chuckled and ducked her attack. “Enough, luv,” he laughed, hands raised defensively. “I surrender.”

She just rolled her eyes and returned to her painting, a smile curling at the edges of her lips. “So, Mister Giles,” she asked coyly, “what are you planning to do this fine Friday evening?”

“Why, Miss Summers!” he teased back. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Do you want me to?” she flirted right back.

“Under normal circumstances, ‘d be honored,” he said with mock-gravity. “But not tonight.”

“OK, I’ll bite,” she said with a curious look. “Why not tonight?”

“Because ‘s come to my attention that tonight’s my beautiful girlfriend’s birthday,” he sighed. “Hafta cow-tow to the old ball ‘n chain, y’know?”

She gave him a deadly glare in response. “You don’t watch it and your beautiful girlfriend will have your head on a platter for her birthday,” she threatened lightly.

He chuckled. “Too true,” he agreed. “So you see why ‘m not available tonight, then?”

“I suppose so,” she played along with his little game. “But it’s too bad ‘cause we really could’ve had fun…”

“Don’t s’pose my girlfriend’d let you come with?” Spike suggested, stroking his chin in a way that supposed to look thoughtful but ended up just looking goofy.

Elizabeth giggled. “Depends if she’s the jealous-type,” she decided.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “Whattaya you think?”

“I think,” Elizabeth set down her brush and moved over to him, “that she’s very territorial about these things…” Her arms slipped around his waist, and her lips gently brushed his.

He let out a little groan in response, and his eyes rolled back in his head. “You’re too good to me, luv,” he whispered raggedly, obviously deeply touched by her admission.

A shy little smile skirted across the edges of her lips, and she cautiously reached up to run her fingers through the peroxide blond locks at one temple. “Spike,” she said simply, savoring the knowledge that this wonderful man really was hers.

“’Lizabeth,” he sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

They held each other like that for a moment, still linked in a loose embrace before Elizabeth opened her eyes once more.

“I guess I can take it that you’re not cheating on me, then?” she teased lightly, picking up the clunky mug that someone with very little skill in the pottery class had been too ashamed to claim. It made a great depository for her brushes, though.

“Well, technically, I think I might be cheatin’ on you with yourself,” Spike said after a moment’s confused consideration.

She laughed at that as well as she washed out her brushes. “That’s the one compromise I’m willing to make,” she agreed.

He chuckled and sat down on her vacated stool, watching her clean up. She was so beautiful, even like this with a paint-splattered smock on and her hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a little smudge of blue and white on one cheek. In fact, he thought she looked more beautiful than she ever had before. His heart felt like it would break his chest every time he saw her like this and…

“Hello?” Elizabeth snapped her fingers right in front of his face, breaking him for his daydreams. “Earth to Spike?”

“Pickin’ up Cordy’s mannerisms, I see,” he commented wryly.

Elizabeth snapped again for emphasis and grinned. “She’s got this whole theory about how it’s the only way to get through to thick-headed men,” she teased. “So far all data support her hypothesis.”

He rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. “So what was it you were tryin’ to say while I was busy undressing you with my eyes?” he inquired.

She blushed slightly when her suspicions about his distraction were confirmed but didn’t let it phase her. “Where are we going?” she repeated her question.

“Just dinner, I thought,” he said a bit nervously. “Unless you want somethin’ more. But ‘ve got massage oil and that weepy girly music you like to listen to back in our room so…”

“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed with a contented smile. Her smock neatly hung over the hook in her locker, she slipped back into his embrace. “Shall we go, lover?” she joked lightly.

“Mmm…” was his incoherent response as he buried his nose in the vanilla perfume of her hair.

“Spike!” She whapped him the shoulder before dragging him along behind her.

He chuckled and followed her more than willingly. “So how does nineteen feel, luv?” he inquired.

“I feel as though I’ve acquired a whole new level of maturity,” she answered mock-seriously. “I am a true adult now, ready to take on the work-a-day world. This is the new, professional me and—”

“Luv?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got paint on your cheek.”

“Hey, Ahn,” Xander said softly from the doorway. “How are you feeling?”

Anya let out a massive yawn. “Sleepy,” she blinked a couple of times before nestling down onto his bed once more. “Kinda achy, too.”

Xander frowned. The past two weeks had been great – the best of his life, in fact. He and Anya had hit it off as soon as he’d gotten back as if the break had never occurred. He’d actually been worried at first that maybe her baffling – to him, at least – interest in him would have passed over the holiday season, but she was the same funny, workaholic, orgasm-loving woman he’d left behind.

Which was why this latest turn of events had him so worried. “You don’t have a fever,” he commented, brushing her hair back from her forehead to feel her temperature. “At least…I don’t think so. Maybe I should ask Willow if she has a thermometer…”

“I’m fine,” Anya insisted with a hint of her old self-assuredness. “Just tired is all…”

“If you’re sure…” Xander began hesitantly.

He got a soft snore in response.

As silently as he could, he shut the door behind him, sparing a smile for Jonathan as he returned to his room from class. This was no good, Xander decided quickly. This was getting less and less of the good every day. So, Anya was tired. Plausible? Yes.

Or maybe it would have been if she hadn’t been in bed for three whole days…

The Blue Club, as it was fondly called by the population of the College of New York, had seen this all a thousand times before. It wasn’t really surprising for a place where depressed students went to get drunk, dance, or just scream loudly into the microphone on stage. There was a reason the Club’s sterile, college-sponsored, generic name was known by none, and instead a color to describe the dismal mood of the student body during the cold, claustrophobic days of winter had taken its place.

However, the sight in the Blue Club tonight was not of the dismal sort, although many prominent examples could be seen throughout the large Friday-night crowds. What was taking place wasn’t the callous drowning of sorrows but a slow and meticulously planned seduction. A hunt, actually, with all the deadly connotations contained therein…

“Hey.” Veruca’s svelte body seemed to waver, almost as if it would be blown away by the slightest gust of wind. Her body language was odd, off-centered, as if something were awry deep inside, yet at the same time mesmerizing, like a coiled cobra ready to strike.

“Hey.” Oz unplugged his guitar, oblivious that this time around it was finally his turn.

“You headed out then?” Veruca’s question was innocent enough, but there was nothing innocent in those dark eyes surrounded by black rings of mascara.

“Yeah,” Oz agreed. “Busy life.”

“A man of few words,” she responded with a coy smile. “I like that.”

A slight furrow of Oz’s brow indicated that he was contemplating her, her existence, her actions, her very place in the universe. Whatever conclusion he came to never made it to his calm demeanor, however.

“If you wanted to…?” Veruca began, leaving the question open-ended.

There was something so tempting in the words that not even Oz could resist. “What?” he asked, a note of curiosity in his voice.

“The night’s young,” she answered mysteriously, her body flowing like a silky liquid as she sat on the edge of the stage beside him. “We could, y’know…do something.”

Such a seemingly innocuous beginning.

“Cool,” he nodded in affirmative.

Something deep and dark flashed in her eyes. “Great,” she agreed, a half-smile lighting up her face. “You wanna head out, or…?” She pointed with her thumb towards the door.

Oz caught Devon’s eye for a second and gave him a quick good-bye wave. Devon just nodded absentmindedly and continued his conversation, not aware of what was to come.

“I love a cold winter night,” Veruca sighed as she and Oz strolled out of the Blue Club. “The complete silence and dark, the full moon overheard… It just makes you just want to…go wild…”

“Oh, honey, you look beat,” Tara said sympathetically as Willow practically trudged into her room and collapsed upon the bed.

“Remind me again what I was thinking when I decided that taking two labs back-to-back on a Friday was a good idea?” Willow asked rhetorically.

“That you were a psycho masochist?” Tara teased lightly.

Willow barely managed to crack a smile before she began rubbing her temples.

“Headache?” Tara asked, concerned. In an instant, she’d closed her well-worn tome of Hemingway and was giving her girlfriend a little shoulder massage.

“Ah…” Willow sighed in relief at the feel of Tara’s healing touch. “You just saved my life.”

“It’s almost ten,” Tara pointed. “Lab really ran that late?”

“Later,” Willow admitted. “I managed to sneak out of the clean-up. I’m thinking maybe I should drop or audit or something…”

“I thought you needed two more lab classes to graduate,” Tara pointed out.

Willow sighed. “Damn you with your logic,” she joked lightly, feeling better under the other woman’s caresses. “So, what exciting things did I miss while I was in The Lab That Would Not End?”

Tara giggled into her hand, brushing aside the locks on dishwater brown hair that had gotten in her face as she did so. “It sounds like one of those really bad horror movies that Xander and Spike watch,” she decided.

“Except those movies are far less painful to watch,” Willow added.

“That bad, huh?” Tara gave her a quick peck on the lips.

“Yeah.” Willow gave her big, soulful puppy-dog eyes and earned herself another kiss for her troubles.

“That make it better?” Tara asked softly.

Willow pretended to frown. “Don’t know. Try it again,” she teased.

Tara rolled her eyes and flopped back down on the bed. “You got an e-mail from Faith,” she delivered the only exciting piece of news that had happened while Willow was gone.

“Ooh!” Willow exclaimed excitedly. “What’d she say?”

“I don’t know,” Tara looked over her shoulder at her girlfriend with a coy smile. “Unlike some people, I don’t go around reading other people’s e-mail…”

Willow stuck her tongue out in response to that and double-clicked on the message. “Not coming back this semester,” she summarized the message. “Not surprising given that she’s not, y’know, back… Out of rehab, though. Been clean for three months…”

“Good for her,” Tara said with a smile, reading over Willow’s shoulder. “Ooh, not living with her psycho mom, either.”

“Maybe she’ll come back next year,” Willow agreed. “She sounds better.”

“It must be tough having to deal with classes on top of all that other crap,” Tara agreed.

“Especially with her mom being all freaky,” Willow agreed.

“Like your mom didn’t freak?” Tara pointed out.

“Like your whole family didn’t freak?”

“My whole family didn’t need to freak, they are freaks…and not in the good way.” Tara shuddered slightly.

“Here’s to casting aside psycho families!” Willow exclaimed, collapsing back down on the bed and closing her eyes.

“We’re staying in for tonight, I take it?” Tara observed with a little smile.

“I’m dead,” Willow agreed with a sigh, pulling the blanket over her. “Damn, how am I going to survive this year?”

“You’ll find a way,” Tara said confidently. “You always do…”

“I love you.”

Elizabeth sighed in a deeply contented manner and snuggled back into the arms of the naked man who had just spoken. At that moment, she felt like she would never need anything again as long as this would never end. She was whole, complete, loved…

“How can you tell?” she asked curiously, finally responding to his admission.

He shrugged against her back so that she could feel it. “Just know,” he insisted. Long, deft fingers brushed her hair aside, exposing the soft curve of her neck to his tender kisses. “Just sorta…slips up on you, y’know?”

Reluctantly, she turned in his arms so that she could face him. She wanted to look at him while they discussed this, and then hopefully she’d be able to figure out what cosmic change had occurred to have made Spike first whisper those fervent words to her two weeks back.

“Tell me about it,” she requested softly, her fingers gently tracing the scar on his eyebrow.

His eyelids shut in response, a simple defensive technique to prevent her from seeing the vulnerability within him. It was in moments like these that he was the most unsure about whether he should have told her about the depths of his feelings. She hadn’t reciprocated his words; she had claimed that she wouldn’t say them until she knew for certain what love really was. He could understand that, given the way she’d been hurt so badly…

“Teach me,” she whispered against his lips.

He sighed and opened his eyes, allowing her to see the unfathomable emotions that swirled about in their depths. She gasped in response, and he smiled before leaning in to brush his lips slowly across hers.

“Being with you…” he began. “’S indescribable. Like everythin’ else’ll be all right as long as you’re with me. ‘m drawn to you, Summers, a part of you. Just the thought of tryin’ to go on without you…it’d be like a part of me was missin’…”

“It’s not the great sex, then?” she teased lightly.

He chuckled softly. “You make me laugh,” he added in a whisper, and her fingers traced his lips as he spoke, “and you make me burn. You infuriate me and delight me and drive me near mad at times.”

“Insanity equals love?” She raised one suspicious eyebrow.

The deep timbre of his laugh echoed throughout his room. “C’mere,” he purred seductively, pulling her over so that she lay on top of him. He looked down at where her head was cradled against his chest and let out a contented sigh. “Just want this to last forever,” he finally decided.

“Yeah, my plans kinda include forever, too,” she agreed. “Is that love?”

“Does it feel like it?” he asked curiously, hopefully…

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “How do you…?” She let the question trail off. “I don’t know if I’ve ever really loved anybody before,” she finally admitted shakily. “My family’s…tolerable at best, and I’ve never…” She felt somehow embarrassed by this admission, dirty.

Spike frowned and tried to explain it. “You just feel somethin’ deep down inside, and you can’t place it for the longest time. And then, one day, you ask yourself ‘is it love?’ an’ the answer’s a resoundin’ ‘yes!’,” was the best he could come up with.

“I think I’ve got a hodge-podgey ‘I have no clue’,” she sighed in response.

“But forever, huh?” He clung to the good.

“Forever,” she agreed with a soft smile, placing a light kiss on his chest. “So,” she perked up slightly as she transitioned onto a lighter topic, “whattaya wanna do this summer?”

“Depends,” he pointed out. “Spent the last summer here, so generally ‘d head off to England this year. But if we’re gonna get an apartment…”

“If we got an apartment, then we’d move out of the dorm next year,” she pointed out.

“That would be the plan,” he agreed. “S’pose we could sublet for the summer ‘f we wanted ta come back…”

“Do you wanna come back?” she asked curiously, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” she admitted with a shy smile. “I’d kinda miss the guys, y’know?”

“I would, too,” he agreed with a relieved smile of his own. “So we’re comin’ back to Westing next year?”

“Definitely,” Elizabeth nodded. “You’ll be able to get this room again, right?”

“Can’t imagine Anya or Cordy tryin’ to steal it from us,” he put her fears to rest. “’specially given all the action the bed’s gotten,” he added with a wry smirk.

“Don’t be so sure,” she warned. “Cordy’s stuck with Faith’s room right now, which is smaller and has a mattress with an equally shady history.”

“Yeah, but Cordy’s a weepy romantic at heart who would never rob us of our li’l love nest,” Spike teased.

“Maybe we should resort to bribery,” Elizabeth decided with a little giggle. “When do we choose rooms?”

“May. We’ve got plenty of time…” he assured her.

“Good,” she decided. “So, you’re going to England, then?”

“Only if you are,” he insisted.

“Hmmm,” she sighed. “Definite possibilities there…”

“Don’t hafta decide just yet,” he pointed out.

“Okay,” she agreed with a lazy smile.

“Uh, pet?” he said uncomfortably after a moment.

“Yeah?” She looked up at him in surprise and concern.

“You’re not as light as you look.” He gestured to where she was sprawled entirely on top of his body.

She frowned. “I’ll move, but only on the condition that I get quality cuddling time,” she demanded.

“Like tha’s not what I had in mind anyway.” He rolled his eyes. “Plus,” he added with a wicked gleam in his eyes, “’s your birthday, luv. Which means ‘m yours…” He leaned in close so that he could whisper the next part in her ear, his voice deep and husky. “Any. Way. You. Want me…”

A feminine thrill ran up and down her spine at that. “Mmm, my Spike,” she said with an evil little smile. “Just the way I like ‘em…” She finally rolled off of him to lie at his side, and he let out an audible gasp of relief. “Quality spoon time,” she reminded him.

Instantly, he was pressed up against her back. “Like this?” he inquired, fingers flitting ephemerally over heated flesh as the soft contours of her body molded to the hardness of his chest.

“Mmm…” she agreed with a contented sigh. Her own caresses grazed across his strong arms as they lay together.

He shut his eyes and let his forehead brush the golden silk of her hair, wishing fervently that this evening would never end…

“Do you think I should get my bellybutton pierced?”

“What?!” It was such a random question that he couldn’t help to complete shock out of his voice.

She pouted. “You don’t think it would be sexy?” she demanded.

“You’re serious?” he asked in surprise.

“Not really,” she sighed, fingering her navel lightly. “I just figure that piercings are fun to play with, and if I had one—”

The tip of his thumb flicked across the small depression. “There’re more direct ways of tellin’ me how you want me to touch you,” he commented.

“I think I’ll save the ‘oh, Spike, fill me with your humongous cock!’ statements for Anya,” Elizabeth retorted. “Plus, it’s fun to confuse you.”

“Humongous?” he repeated with barely concealed delight.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “God, you are such a…a…guy,” she finally decided.

“No arguin’ with that,” he practically purred, pressing his hardness into the soft curve of her ass for emphasis.

“Well, you do kinda have the questionable sexuality thing going on with the black nail-polish,” she pretended to seriously consider this statement. “And then there’s the whole earring thing. Not to mention the lack of body hair.” Her finger trailed down the smooth center of his chest. “What’s with that, anyway? I thought British guys were supposed to be, like, ultra-hairy or something… Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Just got lucky and ended up extra-sexy,” he retorted, turning her slightly so that he could hover over her. “And you know ‘m all man, luv, so don’t even pretend—”

“Less talk, more action,” she demanded. “’Cause, y’know, actions speak louder than words.”

“Got me there,” he agreed with a chuckle before sliding down her body.

“Spike?” she frowned and blinked. “What are you—oh!”

“Figured that cute bellybutton ‘f yours was lookin’ for a bit more attention,” he retorted with a wry grin. “But if you want me to stop…”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she ordered, pulling him down against her once more…

Yadda-yadda-yadda...more to come...review... You know the drill by now, right? ~_^