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Chapter 14
In the breath of a mere instant, Spike's tenuous standing with Buffy was almost lost.

Her muscles jumped to tense with wary anticipation, a familiar action he had witnessed many times in his previous pursuits to end her life. Yet it was the look of saddened resignation that settled over her lovely face that managed to do the trick, striking its way to the very quick of his indignant fury.

Self recriminations slammed into Spike as he paused in his attack to gather himself together, almost having risked perfect bliss for the mere sake of retribution over a few thoughtless comments. From someone who did not matter in the least in the grand scheme of things.

But he stopped himself before it was too late, and that was what was important.

Buffy continued to watch him warily, her warrior stance relaxing somewhat. It was several terse seconds before Spike found himself at a safe point to speak again.

Addressing the cause of his near ruination, Spike growled, "You need to have a bit more respect for women than that, you git."

 Floating in the back of his awareness, the boy somehow sensed that a dark and sinister event had just been avoided. He lost no time in nodding mutely before sending a mumbled "sorry" in Buffy's direction.

Somewhat mollified, Spike turned and reached into the car, retrieving an item that was of the familiar to Buffy.

"God, you still have that thing?" Buffy found herself asking, her body practically sagging with relief at Spike's apparent self-control.

He shot her an offended look. "Bloody right I do."

"Hey, did anyone ever tell you that you look like Billy Idol?"

Spike glared at the valet parker, ignoring the stupidity of the question.

The boy hunched his shoulders. "What! I was just asking..."

Buffy watched as Spike turned his back on the hotel employee and slipped his arms into the familiar coat, the well worn leather bringing a myriad of conflicting memories to the edge of her consciousness. Yet just as quickly as they tried to surface, Buffy stomped them down, not willing to give her common sense any credence.

Because being here with Spike? There was no amount of flawed logic that could convince her better judgment that she wasn't doing something totally stupid.

So better to not give it a chance to speak up at all.

She watched as Spike threatened the parker over the safety and well-being of his car before handing over a tip. A significant tip, at that. She found that bizarre; Spike's switch from 'don't you dare open your own car door' guy to monster with deadly intent before switching into the big tipper in the span of a mere minute. She chalked it up to the enigma that was just Spike. An enigma she still had to figure out what was all about, and more importantly, how she fit in.

Spike slid his cool palm through hers, lacing his fingers tightly and led her through the wide glass doors into the hotel's spacious, opulent lobby. Buffy was more than aware of the looks of curiosity they were receiving and briefly wondered how Spike could remain so immune and unaffected by it. His typical bad boy swagger was in full affect and Buffy had to make a visible effort to slow her steps down to match his leisurely pace.

She had never been so glad to reach an elevator in all her life.

She eased off on the death grip she had maintained on Spike's hand and prayed for the doors to open, still feeling the full weight of stares digging into her back.

Paranoid? Oh yes, definitely so, also knowing that most of the looks were most likely in regard to the swaggering made-up, jewelry-clad vampire at her side rather than disapproving glances over her youthful self accompanying a man up to his hotel room.
Helplessly lost in full retro tribute, her mind flashed to the movie she had watched for the millionth time the previous week, Pretty Woman and she felt a sense of recognition.

'Please don't let there be a bench in the elevator,' she thought to herself fiercely, making an attempt to fetter away her increasing and misplaced anxiety.

With a loud 'ping' the doors to the elevator slid open,-happily bench free and empty to boot-and it was all Buffy could do to not to bolt into the small space, eager to be swallowed up in the close confines and regain her usual anonymity.

When the doors shut in front of them and the appropriate floor button had been selected, Buffy peeked over at Spike and noticed the indulgent, amused grin he was bestowing upon her.

"What?" Buffy asked suspiciously, scowling.

"You. You're adorable."

That wasn't quite the response she thought would have spilled from his sexy mouth, but the obvious sincerity in his voice comforted her and she consciously willed the muscles that had drawn up again in tight bunches to relax ever so slightly.

"Why am I doing this?" she asked, questioning more herself than the vampire at her side.

Spike snorted beside her, earning a sharp look. "No really, Spike. Why?"

A seemingly endless sea of blue suddenly captured her eyes. "Because you can't help it anymore than I can," he uttered softly.

And that just about summed it up.

She was saved from having to reply by the elevator coming to stop. Nervousness struck hard as she watched the doors open. Spike gave her hand a gentle squeeze and following his lead, she allowed him to guide her down the long, tastefully muted blur of a hallway. He paused outside of a door, releasing her hand to grab the key card out of his duster pocket.

When he had the door successfully open, he held it ajar for Buffy, amused by her skittish bolt into the room and the refusal to meet his eyes.

He found her standing in the middle of the room, mouth slightly agape.

"Wow, you really work this rock star gig, don't you?"

Spike flashed a smile at her, shrugging out of his duster and throwing it over the back of a chair. "Might as well be comfortable."

"Comfortable? I didn't even know they HAD rooms like this in Sunnydale," Buffy commented, her eyes traveling around the large two room suite-anywhere but at the now half naked vampire standing in front of her.

She watched him saunter across the room to the huge dresser that took up half a wall where he retrieved a pair of jeans from the contents of one drawer.

"There's a mini-bar over there, help yourself," he instructed before heading for the bathroom and leaving her victim to her own imagination.

And imagine she did; visualizing the probability of a naked spike just behind that bathroom door. In a gaping swirl, Buffy suddenly found herself engulfed with conflicting feelings of embarrassment and desire, making her feel so very much her tender age.

That, she didn't like.

Telling herself to grow up, Buffy made her way to the mini-bar Spike had alluded to, finding it stocked with a variety of beverages of both the alcoholic and non-alcoholic persuasion.

Picking a diet coke from the ample selection, she flicked the tab open and wandered the large hotel suite while she waited for Spike to emerge. The door that obviously led to into the bedroom portion of the suite was slightly ajar, and Buffy couldn't harness the morbid curiosity that pulled her in that direction.

That was how Spike found her, peeking into the room, her whole body shouting out with obvious trepidation

"You expecting dead bodies to throw themselves out at you, or what?" he couldn't help but ask, amusement softening his voice

His eyes lit up with mirth when a scream was strangled in her throat, her body whipping around to face him.

"God, you so suck, " she pouted, wiping the coke off of her arm that had become airborne during her frightened spin.

"Thought you were the Slayer and all. Able to sense a vamp's approach," he mocked, crossing his arms over his chest, his body language clearly challenging her to rebuke that statement.

Buffy drew herself up. "I was distracted," she admitted.

"Right," he drawled before sending her a knowing wink and crossing the room to grab a beer out of the bar. He obtained a menu from the desk top and held it out to her. "You hungry? Could order room service."

Feeling once more like she had stumbled into an alternate reality, Buffy shook her head. "Nope, I'm good. And if you suggest strawberries, I WILL kill you."

At the questioning tilt of his eyebrow, Buffy encompassed the opulent suite with a dramatic sweep of her hand. "This. This whole thing. It's just way too freakily like Pretty Woman."

Spike snorted. "Not bloody well likely. Can't say as I see you as an easy lay, pet."

Buffy found herself gaping at him in wonder. He was supposed to be evil? "Ok, I think that was a compliment," she replied warily, having been struck off balance once more.

She regarded him carefully as he moved with liquid grace to stand in front of her. Bringing his hand up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb slowly tracing the generous contours of her bottom lip, he nodded.

"Yeah, pet. That was a compliment."

*****
"Boy, aren't we all about the observiness," Xander commented with disgust, his eyes searching for his friend and the bleached blonde who was even MORE of an 80's wannabe now.

When the recorded music came blasting through the speakers following the brief delay of the stage act's disappearance, the occupants at the table expelled a united sigh of irritation.

"Where did they go?" Willow asked.

"I don't know, but I think I'm going to find out real fast," Xander muttered, slamming his chair back forcefully and jumping to his feet. Willow and Giles were mere seconds behind with a persecuted Angel the last to lumber to a full upright position.

Xander slipped his way through the crowd in pursuit of the door that led to the backstage area, familiar with its location thanks to his association with Oz.

He did fail to note the beefy guard standing just to one side of the door and as his hand reached for the knob, it was clamped in a vise of pain.

"What do you think you are doing?" the bald headed beefy bouncer asked.

Xander's nostrils flared with his sense of injustice. "Can I just say... OW." He tried to extract his wrist from the meaty grip. "Angel, little help here."

Angel sighed heavily and exchanged a look with the bouncer. Xander suddenly found his hand released and he clutched it tenderly against his chest, the very image of the unjustly manhandled.

"Can't let nobody back there."

Xander opened up his mouth to give a seething response when Giles sent him a sharp glare. Giving the large gentleman in front of him a polite smile, Giles announced, "We do appreciate your diligence to your job. However... we are searching for a friend of ours and we have reason to believe we will find her behind that door. If you could just allow us a moment, we will then be out of your way."

The bouncer stuck a toothpick in his mouth. "Nope. Nobody goes backstage. Boss's orders."

Giles's composure slipped just a fraction. "Yes well, perhaps we could speak with your employer?"

"He ain't here."

Xander threw his hands up in frustration. "He ain't here. Well, that's just great." He glared at the bouncer. "I think he needs to do a bit better job of screening potential employees. That Billy Idol freak? So not legal."

The Bouncer shrugged one beefy shoulder. "Don't matter."

Xander's eyes widened comically. "What do you MEAN it don't matter?"

Another shrug. "That Billy Idol freak? He owns the club."
tbc...

Ok, I think this was the hardest chapter I have EVER written. Talk about something that did not want to come!! I would like to thank everyone who voted for Seed Born of Blood in the Lost in Spike awards! You guys are amazing. Here's hoping that the next chapter will be easier to get out!





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