Title: Blue Eyed Devil Author: Pattyanne snapkik@yahoo.com Disclaimer: None of the BtVS characters belong to me. Feedback: Love some, thanks. Rating: Up to NC-17 Summary: Spike Devlin is the lead singer for the band 'Blue Eyed Devil'. Buffy Summers is the local preschool teacher he's pursuing. Part twenty-two..... Buffy swallowed hard as she walked toward Spike, sitting there so calmly on his mounted death machine. Being brave by putting on a false face was one thing, but she was now finding out that actually following through with said bravado was quite another. "Come on, baby," he said, smiling charmingly. Oh, that smile was going to be the end of her, she had no doubt. As she moseyed towards him, hoping that something would come up to change his mind about going for a ride...anything would do, fire-flood-famine, she wasn't feeling picky...he suddenly kick started the engine, making it come to life with the kind of a scream she'd only heard in movies. Her hands automatically flew up to cover her ears. She could see him mouthing words at her, but couldn't hear them. "What?" she yelled, shaking her head and frowning. He started to speak again, then rolled his eyes and mimed her removing her hands from over her ears. "Oh." The scream of the motor had settled down to a bearable roar, and she grinned uncertainly. "Did you want to tell me something?" she asked loudly, still maintaining a healthy distance from the mechanized beast. Devlin gave her an appraising look, then beckoned her forward with one finger. Yep. Death. It was a certainty. Buffy inched a bit closer. "Yes?" "What's wrong?" "Pardon me?" Another inch. He spoke louder. "What...is...wrong?" "Nothing," she replied, trying to sound sincere. "Then climb on," he said, again holding out one hand. There was no way she could avoid it without looking like a total weenie. Placing one hand in his, she let him guide her onto the saddle behind him. Buffy wound her arms around his middle, tightly enough to cut off vital bodily functions. He patted the back of her hand, then turned on the seat to look at her. "You ever been on a bike before?" "Excuse me?" "I said...have you ever been on a bike...before?" What, was he kidding? Was she behaving like someone to whom such things as this were old hat? "No," she confessed. "But I've always," she mentally crossed her fingers and toes, "wanted to." Devlin gave her a seriously doubtful look. "You sure?" "Yeah," she nodded hard. "Let's...you know...blow this popsicle stand!" He laughed, clearly delighted. Apparently, she'd been successful at convincing him that she was ready to place her life in his hands. "Give me a kiss first," he demanded. She kissed him long and hard, almost ruining her brazen front by saying "goodbye". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After she'd been on the machine for a while, she began to relax. It wasn't nearly as frightening as she'd imagined it would be. Of course, he was staying off the main streets and highways, and was sticking to the coast road. The "scenic route", he called it. Stopping at a small roadside drive-in, the likes of which she didn't know still existed outside of old movies and television programs, he waited patiently as she used the bathroom. Buffy's kidneys had taken a bumpy ride, and she stayed until she couldn't squeeze out another drop, not wanting to have to ask him to pull over beside a clump of bushes on the way back. When she came out of the bathroom, she found him standing in front of a stand of trees, gazing out over the ocean as the setting sun painted it gold and crimson. The place where he stood was less than five feet from a sheer drop to the rocky shoreline below. She hated to bother him. He seemed to be thinking about something quite deeply, and it felt crass of her to just push on into his private thoughts. Walking towards him, she stood by a bunch of unoccupied picnic tables, waiting for him to notice her. It didn't take long. He turned and smiled, then straddled one of the benches and held out his hand. "Come and sit down for a minute." Buffy started to sit facing him, but he turned her around so that she was facing the setting sun. Pulling her back until she was reclining in his arms, he nuzzled her hair. "Can I ask you a question?" Hoping she wasn't about to be quizzed on any previous experiences she might have had on motorcycles before, she agreed. "Well...not that I don't love the effect...but why did you go back into the club looking like Miss Buffy, my sweet and no longer virginal little preschool teacher, and then come back out looking like Ann Margaret in 'Kitten With a Whip'?" Well, she could hardly say that it was eavesdropping on a private conversation that had inspired her sudden makeover. Problem was, she just wasn't good at spur-of-the-moment falsehoods. "I just thought that I didn't look...that you might think I'm...well, not sexy enough," she said lamely. "For who?" he asked, clearly surprised. "For me? What have I EVER done or said to make you think that?" Before she could stop them, the words were out of her mouth and into his ear. "YOU didn't say anything." She came down a tad too hard on the word 'you', and he picked up on it. "But SOMEONE said something?" Buffy just shrugged. No big deal. Devlin easily narrowed a list of suspects. It couldn't be Oz. In the first place, Oz never commented on the girls his friends dated, and in the second place...Oz rarely commented on much of anything. Stoic as the bleeding Sphinx, the man was. Andy was just as unlikely as Oz. He liked all girls, every one he came into contact with, appearances notwithstand- ing. All a girl had to do was be female and have a pulse. Or not! Sometimes a pulse was optional. After counting Oz and Andy out, it was obvious that Xander was the culprit. He had a bad habit of opening his mouth before his brain kicked in, and it had nearly gotten him punched in the nose on more than one occasion. Buffy was fidgeting uncomfortably, breaking his concentration. "So...what did this mystery person say to you? Come on, love...I know it was Xander. Tell me so I can beat the crap out of him and still have time to hire a new drummer before the tour." She was sorry that she'd ever said anything. Was it possible to actually die of embarrassment? Was she about to find out? Hating to say it, she mumbled something he couldn't quite hear. "What?" "I said..." She raised her voice a little. "...prim and proper." "Who is?" "Apparently, I am!" "He TOLD you that?!" Buffy squirmed. "Not exactly." "Well, WHAT exactly?" Spike asked, understandably confused. "He wasn't saying it to ME." "Buffy." He made her turn and look at him. "What did he say?" Wishing the side of the cliff would suddenly slide off into the ocean so that she could change the subject, Buffy confessed. "That I'm not your type. My hair is always pulled back...I don't wear enough make up...and my skirt is too long." "Fuck! I AM gonna kill him." "Oh, don't get him WRONG," Buffy quoted, still a little stung. "I'm nice and all that, but I'm just not your usual type." "I have a 'usual' type?" "Xander seems to think so." She allowed herself a tiny smile. "On the bright side, though....I have potential." Devlin sighed and squeezed her. "Buffy...you're the only girl I want. You know that....don't you?" "You mean," she said teasingly, turning back to face the ocean, "now that I'm more your usual type?" "No!" he said quickly. "I mean...you have been...you...oh, come on, you know what...I...hey, did I just hear you giggle?" "Maybe a little," she admitted, trying to control it. "But, listen, you can't yell at Xander...cause he'll think I'm a big tattle- tale. I don't even let my kids kids get away with that." He grumbled about it, but made no promise to keep quiet. In- stead, he turned her on the bench and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her until she was breathless. "So, you like this look?" she finally asked, gesturing down at her new 'self'. Devlin gave her a long, slow once over, his hands rubbing caressingly up and down her back. "I like any look that you care to show me," he said, nuzzling her ear. "Especially the one you showed me yesterday on the stairs..." "Spike!" "And in the bed..." "Quit it!" "And the shower..." "I'm leaving." "No, you're not." He bit down on her earlobe. Buffy waited, then gave him a little push. "Hey! Let's not forget the kitchen counter!" she reminded him. He grinned lecherously. "Oh, I'll NEVER forget the kitchen counter," he said, lifting his eyebrows in a highly suggestive manner that turned Buffy's cheeks pink. "It'll be one of our shining moments." "One of them?" "Uh-huh. In point of fact," he went on, kissing the warm skin of her collarbone, "I was thinking about making another...very special...memory." Buffy pulled back and looked at him suspiciously. "Ex- plain." Devlin jerked his head to one side. "See that bike over there? Well, I was thinking...." "You know what?" Buffy interrupted. "You've gotta quit calling that thing a bike. I ride a bike. It has two pedals and one gear, and a little basket on the front, and the brakes....." "The brakes are what?" he asked sharply. "The brakes are fine." She leaned back in his embrace and caught his "how dumb do you think I AM?" look. "They will be fine," she amended. "I'll get them fixed." "Thank you," he said politely. "Please do it BEFORE you take another ride down Suicide Hill." "Sunset Avenue," Buffy corrected. "And I was only nine years old when that happened." "I know, but you said...." "And it wasn't even the same bike!" He had to kiss her to stop her talking. "That's better," he said, when he'd subdued her into passivity. "Now, about the bike...the MOTORCYCLE...I was having this little fantasy earlier. When we were driving out here...you had your arms around me...and I kept imagining one of your pretty little hands slipping down into my..." "It's the new look isn't it?" Buffy interrupted, hoping to steer him away from the subject of motorcycle sex. "Now, you think I'm easy." With a sigh that started somewhere in the soles of his feet, Devlin looked her square in the eye. "Miss Buffy...if there ever was a word that couldn't be applied to you, the word would be easy." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ While waiting for it to get completely dark, Devlin ordered hamburgers and the greasiest french fries Buffy had ever tasted. She watched him douse his food liberally in salt and ketchup, then dump seven packets of sugar...SEVEN of them!....into a paper cup of iced tea. He took a long swallow and grinned at her. "Putting ice in tea is one of the best ideas you yanks have ever come up with." "Nice to know we're good for something besides kicking England's ass in a war," she came back smartly. Spike laughed. "Well, someone's saucy tonight." He looked up at her as she was licking a smear of ketchup off one finger, and his voice changed dramatically. "You ready to go, love?" "Yeah, I guess..." She glanced up and caught the look on his face. "...so." "Good," he nodded. "Because if I can't be somewhere alone with you real damn quick...I'll have to drop this ice in my lap." TBC..... AN: I stole the "pulse optional" line from British comedian, Eddie Izzard.