Title: Ribbed 1/1

By Denna at dennaseer@hotmail.com

Rated PG-13 for implied sexual situations and mild profanity

Keywords: buffy, spike, kiss, love, crypt...

All characters and places presented in this story belong to Joss Whedon.

Summary: Buffy finds herself in an awkward situation when she finds out
Spike wants more from her than she thinks...

Ribbed

Spike's Crypt

Friday Night

7:30


As Buffy walked up to Spike's doorway, she checked her watch, smoothed the
wrinkles from her jacket, and pulled down the hem of her skirt before
knocking. She was brushing the hair away from her face when Spike answered
the door.


"Hi Spike," Buffy said, trying not to stare.


"Come on in, Slayer." Spike was leaning against the doorframe, shirtless,
hair still wet from the shower, "And you actually knocked this time. Good
for you!"


"You have a shower in this place?" asked Buffy.


"You'd be surprised."


"I see." Buffy answered, squeezing past him into the crypt, "Am I early?"


"No, no. I was late getting into the shower. I'll be right out."


Buffy watched Spike disapear into

the crypt basement. Buffy paced around the rest of the room.


"Make yourself at home, then!" Spike called out.


"Sure." Buffy said, smiling to herself, 'Make myself home, where?'


Buffy decided he must have meant the rest of his home and she climbed down
the ladder. She had never really seen the rest of his crypt, but it was
really not that different from your average apartment. Somehow, he managed
to get running water here. 'Oh yeah,' Buffy reminded herself, 'The
gravedigger used to live here. Until he ran into a vampire...'


She took in the pillow and blankets on his couch, the coffee table
overflowing with magazines, empty blood-packets, and take-out containers.
Buffy stood uncomfortably in his home, wondering what to do, when the phone
rang.


"You have a phone, too?" Buffy called out, "Do you want me to get that,
Spike?"


"No, I've got it, love." Spike hurried out of the bathroom to grab the
phone. She noticed toothpaste on the corner of his mouth.


"Spike." he intones gruffly.


Buffy pointed at his mouth and then wiped away the imaginary toothpaste at
the corner of her own mouth. His scarred eyebrow rose in question, but then
he got it. He winked at her and scrubbed at his mouth with the heel of his
hand. Buffy grinned.


"Red?"


Willow? Why would Willow call Spike? Probably checking up on a featured
creature. Buffy checked her watch again and tapped her foot. She hoped this
wouldn't take too long, whatever it was about. She wanted to beat some
demons up. The vampires would be up soon.


Buffy walked around the room while she waited, trying not to listen in on
his conversation. As she bended down over his coffee table, trying to make
sense of the disaray, she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He was
still shirtless. For some reason she wished he'd go put a shirt on. He saw
her looking at him and smiled. 'Shit.'


"All right, Red, what do you have for me?" Spike said into the phone.


Buffy wandered off into what seemed like a kitchen, though there was really
just a microwave and a tiny portable fridge with a small garbage can. She
tried to get her bearings together. 'What is wrong with me, tonight?'


'I'm just a little nervous,' she told herself, as she circled the small
room, 'I'm not sure why, though. Me and Spike patrol all the time
together...but it seems we've been on some kind of crash course,
toward...well, I don't know for sure...The tension I've been feeling over
the past week, the strange glances I've been getting from him, it's starting
to feel a little wiggy...

"I'm too old for this stuff," Buffy grumbled and with a frown realized that
she was only 20 years old. But of course, she was practically ancient for a
Slayer.

She headed back into the living room.

"...really want everything to be-" Spike saw her enter the room and paused,
"Hey, Red, can you hold a minute?" Spike covered the mouthpiece of the phone
with his hand, "Uh, Slayer, I'm almost finished with this. I'm just going
into the bedroom so I can change. Wait a minute, love?"

Buffy shrugged her indifference but Spike headed toward the bedroom before
she could say anything. Buffy decided to get comfortable. She didn't know
how long it would take but she felt stupid just fidgeting around like an
impatient toddler. She took off her jacket, revealing the silk tank beneath.

As she passed Spike's bedroom on her way to the chair by the T.V, Buffy
heard her name. Normally, Buffy wouldn't even of thought twice about it, but
tonight wasn't normal. And besides, what could Spike be telling Willow about
her?

Jacket still in her arms, Buffy migrated to Spike's bedroom door. It was
only closed halfway; Buffy could see him inside, pacing. His nervousness was
evident and the Slayer couldn't help but overhear what he was saying.

"This is really important to me, Red," He ran his hand through his damp
hair, "I think this could be the night."

'What?'

Buffy inched closer, holding her breath, hugging her jacket to her chest.

"I know, I know, pet. But I've been thinking about it a lot now." Spike
disapeared from her line of sight, but the creaking of bedsprings betrayed
his location. Buffy continued to listen. "I've put a lot of time and effort
into this." A loud sigh. "I'm hoping Buffy feels the same way."

'Whoa.'

Buffy backpedaled from the door, feeling the blush creep up her body. 'Does
Spike mean what I think he means? Oh no. Not Spike.' Heart jack-hammering in
her chest, Buffy was afraid to hear more but could not resist. Gulping, she
creeped near to the door again.

"It's been so long...yeah, I got the large...Yeah, like I would normally
get, but ribbed." Her eyes widened in surprise. "You think Buffy likes
ribbed?...Mhmmmm...I was trying to guess what color she would like best, but
of course that doesn't matter would it? Plus, it's not like a have a great
variety."

'Ohmigod...'

"Yeah, I know...whatever happens, happens. But the waiting is just killing
me, Red."

'Why, of all people, would Willow buy into this?' Buffy ran from the
bedroom, in a complete panic.

She was back in the living room, struggling into her jacket when Spike
emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a black sweater and jeans. Buffy froze,
like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Spike frowned in concern. "You
allright, love?"

Buffy stared at him like an idiot, one arm in her jacket, the other arm
curled in front of her protectively. 'Damn it, Buffy, say something!'

Spike strode toward her purposefully. "Here, let me help you with that,
pet."

Still mute, Buffy barely contained the involuntary jerk his touch invoked as
he helped her into her jacket. Buffy cleared her throat nervously.

"Thank you, um...Spike," Buffy was tugging on her skirt, looking at the
ground.

"I'm sorry I took so long, Slayer. Now we better go rough around a bit,
huh?"

Buffy looked at him with a horrified look, but when she realized he meant no
harm, nodded nervously. Spike moved to his chair, picking up his trademark
duster. Buffy let out a loud breath, thankful for having him out of her
personal space.

"We better get going or we'll miss our reservations. After eight thirty the
demons give your seats away. Damn buggers."

Buffy let him guide her to the door. Spike was still rambling on and on
about kicking some ass, but Buffy hardly heard him. Buffy walked ahead of
him, anxiety seeping into her body, wondering how to deal with this new and
awkward situation...

Spike's Crypt

11:45 PM

Buffy didn't know why she let Spike lead her back to his crypt. She could've
said she didn't feel well, or that she was tired, or that she had to do
something with her mother early in the morning. She should've just left.

'But no. I never take the easy way out.'

Patrolling was a blur. There had only been three easy-to-kill vampires and
everything she walked near him she felt like a boulder was rolling down to
the pit of her stomach. Also, she was desperately angry at herself for being
stupid enough to wear a skirt. Spike had been unnaturally quiet during the
patrol. Even in her state of anxiety, Buffy was still able to notice this.
They hadn't talked much. Their eyes had both flicked away from each other
nervously and shifted uncomfortably every time they accidentally touched.
When it had been nearly an hour without a sign of any demon activity, they
both knew it was time to leave.

The walk back to Spike's crypt was even worse. Spike kept coughing and
clearing his throat to the point of annoyance. Buffy thought she had never
wanted a drink more in her whole life. By the time the familiar abode came
into view her stomach was in knots and her knees were weak.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Spike asked.

Buffy sank into his couch, nodding her approval. As she heard glasses
clinking in the would-be-kitchen, her mind was working overtime.

'What the hell is going on here?' Buffy thought to herself, 'I mean, I hate
him...he hates me...it just doesn't work this way. We are mortal enemies, he
feeds off the weak, I protect the innocent. Those two factors never come
together well. But, of course, he hasn't necessarily fed off the weak for
about a year...but that wasn't his own choice. I mean, what the hell is
this? I don't whether to feel disgusted, manipulated or flattered! Did Spike
really think this would just happen because he decides it will?'

Spike returned with two beers.

"Do you have anything stronger?" Buffy mumbled.

"What was that, love?"

"Never mind." she answered.

Buffy took the proferred glass and sipped the cool beer. Spike sat down next
to her. They sat in silence, drinking. On an impulse, Buffy turned to Spike,
startling him in her suddenness.

"Spike?"

"Slayer." Spike's attentiveness was unnerving.

"I know what you're doing."

"What? Wait-"

"If you think I'd go through with it, you're dead wrong. This is way too
fast. Do you think I'm that easy?" Buffy took a huge gulp of her beer,
trying in vain to steady her shaking hand.

Spike was trying to swallow, his throat making dry, clicking sounds. "But-"

"I'm flattered, really I am, Spike. But I never pegged you as the type to go
for this and actually think I would agree? Do you think I'm stupid? And why
the hell did you involve Willow?" Buffy practically jumped from the couch,
pacing nervously in front of him as her anger increased.

"What?"

Buffy was sure that if Spike could blush, he would be cherry red by then. He
was looking around, as if to find some place to hide as Buffy continued to
rant.

"I mean, is this some adolescent frat boy vampire thing? Whoever screws the
Slayer first wins the prize? Are you trying to use me or something, because
of all people you should know I wouldn't fall for something like this. You
know, I was just starting to think that there was something at least decent
between us. Respect, maybe? I should have known...God! Do you really think
you could just give me some beers and I would hop into your bed?" Buffy was
done pacing and was now standing over him, hands on her hips, glowering.

Spike recovered, looking both angry and confused, "Now wait just a bloody
minute, Slayer. Just what are you implying?"

Spike stood, now looking down at her. Her nervousness returned.

"Oh, God. Don't play dumb with me, Spike." Buffy retorted.

"I'm not playing, Buffy."

His eyes were burning into hers. Buffy stifled a harsh laugh. "What was with
patrol then tonight? Actually being nice to me for once? Acting all strange
and staring at me all the time? The way you've been acting psycho the last
few weeks? The phone call from Willow?"

Spike's eyes narrowed, "You listened to my phone call?" Spike turned away
from her, shoulders slumped. "What did you hear?" he asked after a moment.

"Not much, really," Buffy paused at the awkwardness, "Okay, too much."

Spike turned back to her, eyes downcast, "I wanted this to be special,
Buffy. What's wrong with that?"

Buffy folded her arms across her chest protectively, "Apparently your
definition of special is a lot different from mine. God, did you really
think this would work?"

Confusion crossed Spike's face again, "You didn't answer me before, Slayer.
Just what are you implying?"

"Oh God, Spike..." Buffy sighed, "I heard you on the phone with Willow. I
heard you say something about tonight being the night. You said I hoped I
felt the same way..." Buffy paused, not sure of how to word the rest, "You
were talking about condoms, Spike. It doesn't take a genius to figure out
where you were going..."

Spike looked shocked and then he began to laugh. Loud deep laughs echoing
from his chest. Buffy stared at him, irritated.

"What the hell is so funny?"

"Buf-" Spike was gasping, wiping tears from his eyes, "Buffy, I never said
anything to Willow about condoms, I swear!"

"I heard you!"

Laughing fit subsiding, Spike strode over to her, placing his hands on her
shoulders. He looked her in the eye, "And what exactly did I say about these
condoms, pet?"

Buffy sputtered and stammered, not exactly used to this kind of talk with
the vamp, "Uh...well...you mentioned..ribbed...um...and you were...talking
about...colours..." She was blushing furiously, her ears burning.

Spike began roaring in laughter, "No, Slayer...I wasn't talking about
condoms...No wonder..." He trailed off, hands still on her shoulders,
leaning down into her, laughing into her hair.

Buffy pushed him away from her, her anger and humiliation mounting, "Then
what were you talking about?"

Spike stopped laughing so quickly she could almost hear his mouth snap shut.
He grabbed his beer off the table and slumped down into his couch.

"Spike..." Buffy warned.

He perched on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, swirling the beer
around in the bottle. Buffy could hear him mumble, "Sweater."

"Huh?" Buffy lowered herself down next to him.

Refusing to look up, he said softly, "My sweater, Slayer. I was telling Red
about my sweater."

Her eyes darted back to the black sweater Spike had worn that night. Black.
Like he always wore.

'Omigod...it's ribbed!'

Buffy was so embaressed, now it was her turn to talk into her lap. But
something was still nagging at her. Buffy turned to him and placed her hand
gently on his arm.

"Spike?"

"Yes, love?" He still wasn't looking at her.

"What does your sweater have to do with us?" She asked softly.

Spike downed his beer in one gulp. He set the bottle down hard on the table
and Buffy heard the deep breath he took. Buffy drew in her own breath and
held it. He faced her, the liquid depths of his eyes holding her captive.

"Buffy," he started slowly, "It's true. I did plan tonight. I did want
something to happen...with us...tonight. But not for the reason you thought
I did."

Buffy was drawn to his mouth, the way his lips moved to form his words. She
bit down nervously on her lower lip, and waited for him to continue. He
stared at her own mouth and something started to stir deep within her belly.
Buffy trembled slightly, hoping he couldn't see how he was affecting her.

"Buffy..." His voice had gone deeper, "I wanted tonight to be just right,
perfect..."

Buffy thought she could almost see Spike trembling too, and his voice had
dropped to nearly a whisper. "I'm tired of playing games with you. I'm tired
of hiding from you, being afraid of what you think of me," He licked his
lips and continued, "I finally decided that tonight...tonight..."

He trailed off, his eyes locked with hers. Buffy found herself lost in them,
so many unspoken thoughts, feelings and fears. But in that moment, it all
seemed so clear.

"Spike," Buffy whispered, "We shouldn't be doing this."

Spike shushed her with a finger to her lips. They were mere inches from each
other then, and she could feel his cool unecessary breath against her cheek.

"Buffy..."

"Spike..."

"I need you to know how much you really mean to me. I need you to know what
I feel for you. I need you to know that I...that I..."

He stopped again, tracing the outline of her lips with his fingertip. Buffy
was lost, her control crumbling under his touch, the voice in her head
screaming to stop this dying away. Spike leaned closer to her. Their mouths
were so close, Buffy could hear his breath in short pants, and she could
smell his familiar scent of musky sweat sweetening it. Time had stopped for
them. Somehow his hands had found their way into her hair and Buffy was
holding onto his biceps to steady herself. They were both trembling then and
Buffy could hear Spike softly whispering her name...

Before he crushed his lips onto hers, Buffy heard him say, "Buffy, I love
you."

His mouth was on hers and it felt like cool fire, searing her lips. After
what feels like an eternity, they pulled away and let each other's eyes
meet. He smiled at her, a wave of emotions passing over his face.

Buffy smiled back, "Ribbed, huh?"

Buffy reached out and touched the soft fabric of the form fitting shirt,
running her fingernails down the vertical ruts. She chuckled as Spike
grabbed her and held her close. He planted gentle kisses on the part of her
hair, and Buffy laid her head against his cool chest. She rubbed her cheek
up and down it, reveling into the smoothness. She snuggled in closer,
wrapping her arms around him. Buffy closed her eyes and smiled to herself.

"For her pleasure." Buffy whispered.