Gone     

Willow is making an omelet for Dawn, still in  her pajamas. Buffy is talking to her about Dawn when Spike bursts through the kitchen door, covered in a blanket and sizzling. He throws off the blanket, straightens his hair while Buffy and Willow stare at him, openmouthed.

"Morning," he says, as though it's nothing out of  the ordinary.

"What are you doing?" Buffy says, "and here?"

"Just, er, took a stroll," he says, the picture of innocence. "Found myself in your neck of the woods."

Buffy gives him a -look-. Stroll. At 8:00 am.  Yeah, right. "You couldn't have found a less flammable time of day to take a stroll?" she asks, a little amused, her eyebrows crawling up into her hairline.

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"Yeah, well," Spike says, a little annoyed that  his attempt to be polite fell flat, "The fact is my lighter's gone missing. Thought it might have dropped out of my pocket last time I was here." He indicates the living room.

"Haven't seen it," Buffy replies, almost too fast.  Lying through her teeth...

Willow takes the unfinished omelette off the stove and goes upstairs. When she's gone, Buffy and Spike share a look, Spike hopeful and Buffy on the verge of an eyeroll. And a smile.

"Lame," she says.

"What?" he says, pretending he doesn't know exactly what she means.

"You." She turns to the sink. "Making up excuses..."

He saunters toward her. "Whoa, don't flatter yourself, love. 'M bloody fond of that lighter."

She turns to him. "Stop trying to see me. And stop calling me that." She's not angry about it, or upset; it's more of a reminder, and one she's not really completely serious about enforcing.

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He comes toward her again, that hipshot, slouchy saunter, smiling.

He knows she's not really as serious as she thinks she is. "So, um what should I call you, then," he says, softly, seductively. "Pet? Sweetheart?" He lifts a strand of her hair and gives her a look that would melt a cement block to goo. "My little Goldilocks?"

She wants to look at him, but it's too much, and she keeps looking down. Her lips part, and suddenly it's not quite so easy to breathe.

"You know, I love this hair," he says, still playing with it. His voice is low and knee-buckling. "The way it bounces around when..."

She picks up the spatula--the extremely plastic and metal spatula--but he catches her hand. "Ah-ah-ah," he says, grinning, "This flapjack isn't ready to be flipped."

She looks at him. "What the hell is that supposed to..."

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But she breaks off. He's touching her, very intimately. Her face softens--imminent goo, here. "Stop that," she whispers, but she's taken a moment to enjoy it before she speaks, and she -so- doesn't really want him to stop...

His hand moves toward her hip, and his face clouds. He's felt the lighter in her pocket. But before he can say anything, Xander interrupts them.

"Great Godfrey Cambridge, Spike!" he says. As soon as she hears his voice, Buffy slaps Spike's hand away. She doesn't, however, put any space between them.

Xander is standing in the kitchen door, come to take Dawn to school. "Are you still trying to mack on Buffy? Wake up already. Never gonna happen." He comments one the kind of loser who would hook up with Spike, mentions Harmony and Dru, and

Buffy, not really happy with being called a loser, even inadvertently, breaks in, saying that they need to get Dawn off to school.

"You can let yourself out, right Spike?" she says over her shoulder, and he gives her a thoughtful look.

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Dawn is still surly, and snarks at Buffy about finding time to get her into another car accident, just as they open the door to find the social worker. Dawn and Xander leave, and Buffy invites the social worker in. They're just about to start a conversation when Buffy sees Spike, sprawled in the armchair.

"So," he says, "are we going to chat this out, or what?"

Buffy, trying not to look panicked in front of the social worker, tells him that this is really not a good time, she has company. He says he'll just wait, then, and slumps further in the chair, his hand resting on his abdomen. In a very...suggestive way.

The social worker looks a little nonplussed, but goes ahead, calling Spike 'Buffy's boyfriend.'  Buffy denies it, saying, "He's just a..." But she gets stuck on what he really is to her. He's a little amused at that.

She tells him that the woman is a social worker, and raises her eyebrows in a silent signal that this is about Dawn and she doesn't want him to screw things up.

He gets it, and stands up, telling the social worker what a good mom Buffy is. Of course, he puts his foot in it, mentioning that he lives in a crypt, but Buffy manages to salvage things. She asks, pointedly, if he doesn't have to go now, because of that thing...?

He takes the hint, and asks for the blanket. She tosses it at him, giving him a hard look, and he goes, returning it in kind.

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                          *                 *                *

After the social worker leaves, Spike comes back into the room.

Buffy, exhausted, leans against the doorjamb then sees him. "Why won't you leave?" she asks.

"Thought you might..." Spike begins, but she cuts him off.

"Get out of here!" This time, she's serious.

It pisses him off, and he stalks toward her, pinning her against the wall without--quite--touching her. He's clearly furious. He reaches into her pocket, fumbles for a second, comes out with the lighter.

"Just getting what I came for," he snaps, and turns, coat swirling, and leaves. "Goodbye, Goldilocks," he says on his way out.

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                          *                 *                *     

In Spike's crypt...

It's afternoon, still lots of daylight left. Spike is sprawled in his chair, one leg over the arm, watching Passions. He gets upfor a snack, and the door to the crypt opens. Spike, getting blood from the refrigerator, looks up. He knows something's there...

"Whatever beastie you are, I know you're here," he says. "And I hurt beasties..."

The something brushes by him and turns off the television. He looks disgusted. "A ghost, is it? Well go and haunt the living, like a good spook."

The something comes close to him; he can hear it, smell it, as it circles him. Then it grabs him and throws him against the wall, pins his arms, and rips open his shirt. He looks down; do ghosts do this sort of thing?

The something pushes his head to the side, we hear...sounds. The something is kissing down his neck and onto his chest; his eyes roll back and he groans. He knows the feel of that mouth on him... He looks at the air in front of him. "Buffy?"

"I told you," InvisiBuffy says, "Stop trying to see me." She manhandles him away from the wall.

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                              *               *              *

Much later...

It's dark now. Xander, worried about InvisiBuffy (having figured out that she's going to turn to mush if they don't get her visible again), comes into Spike's crypt. The place is a mess, furniture overturned, clothes dropped on the floor... A little worried, Xander looks around and calls for Spike. There's no answer. He goes down to the lower level.

There are soft sounds coming from the bed, low moans and sighs. Spike, naked except for a sheet over his lower half, is on the bed, holding himself up and moving slowly over InvisiBuffy. To Xander, it looks like he's doing, well, he doesn't know what, exactly.

"Spike?" Xander says, very puzzled. "What are you doing?"

Spike looks over his shoulder, not really getting what's going on. "What am I..." Then it catches up. "What does it look like I'm doing, you nit? I'm exercising, aren't I?"

He does some very odd-looking pushups, vigorously leading with his hips, and again with the noises.

"Exercises," Xander says, obviously skeptical. "Naked.  In bed."

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Spike gets up, wrapping the sheet around his hips, and sits on the end of the bed. "A man shouldn't use immortality as an excuse to let himself go," he says. "Gotta keep fit for killin'."

More skepticism from Xander. He, of all people, knows what it really looks like Spike was doing. But SO don't want to go there... He shakes off the image.

"Looks like you had a little trouble upstairs," he says. A little concerned, even. "Mini-disaster-area."

Spike, worried that Xander is going to twig to Buffy's presence, misses the concern. "So, what, you just come by here to criticize my housekeeping?"

"Uh, no," Xander replies, "I'm looking for Buffy."

"Haven't seen her," Spike says, too quickly.

"Well, you wouldn't," Xander says. "Fact is, she's come down with a slight case of invisibility."

Spike pretends to be surprised at this news, and asks how it happened. And then twitches; Buffy is sucking on his earlobe. He tries to ignore it.

Xander says they don't know how it happened, and he really, really needs to find her.

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Spike says he'll look around and if he bumps into her, he'll let her know that Xander's looking for her. And all the while, Buffy is nuzzling and tickling and trying to distract him. He fends her off, trying to be unobtrusive, but Xander is looking at him funny.

"After your...exercises," Xander says, looking a little disgusted. He turns to leave, shaking his head. "You know, Spike, kidding aside...you really need to get a girlfriend."

"That was bloody stupid," Spike says to InvisiBuffy after he's gone. He gets up, flinging the sheet over her. We can see the outline of her under it.

"What's the matter?" she says, "Ashamed to be seen with me? He had no idea I was here. This is perfect."

"Perfect for  you," Spike says, and pours himself three fingers of whiskey.

"Well, picture me confused.," Buffy says. "I thought this is what you wanted."

"What I want…" Spike, frustrated, and stops himself. She knows what he wants, the bitch.

"This vanishing act is very liberating for you, innit," he says bitterly. "You can go anywhere you want, do anything you want... Or anyone."

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"What are you  talking ab...."

"The only reason you're here is that you're not here."

"Right. Of course," she says. We can't see the eyeroll, but it's there... "As usual, there's something wrong with Buffy. She came back allll wrong. You know, I didn't ask for this to happen to me." She sits up, and the sheet slides down.

"Not too put off by it, though, are you?" Spike says, finishing his drink.

"No," she says, throwing off the sheet. "Maybe because for the first time since... I'm free. Free of rules and reports... Free of this life."

"Free of life," Spike says, "Got another name for that--dead."

"Why do you always have to..." She comes to him, touches him. "I thought we were having fun."

He grabs her by the upper arms and holds her away from him.

"Yeah," he says, "Now. But sooner or later your little chums are going to work out a way to bring you back to living color." He lets her go, looks down. After a moment, he goes on. "You'd better go."

He looks up to where he thinks she is. "Get dressed, if you can find your clothes, and shove off," he goes on, and it's not easy for him to say this; he's completely naked now, body and soul. "Because if I can't have all of you, I'd rather..." He stops,
looks down.

"Hey, that's cheating," he says...

--

Dori

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