TITLE: Wishes
BY: Zorya
E-MAIL: LunarMyth
DISCLAIMER: Joss, WB, Mutant Enemy....all rich guy types, whereas I'm not...rich...or a guy.... Also, Robert Burns for "Auld Lang Syne"
CATEGORY: S/B
RATING: PG
DISTRIBUTION: If it's something you want, just ask.
SPOILERS: After Season 3, like two years after.
SUMMARY: It's New Year's Eve and Spike introduces Buffy to a new tradition.
COMMENTS: With all my recent thoughts and ideas for B/A, this just came to me during the middle of class today.
FEEDBACK: It's becoming an addiction. Feed the addiction. Please? Pretty Please? With whipped cream and chocolate and cherries and Angel on top? On the bottom? Anywhere? (OK, so I can't deliver on that. If I could....weeelllll....I like to think I'd be otherwise preoccupied at the moment. And for many moments in the future.)


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She sauntered through the crowd in her home, smiling and nodding at the guests she didn't know and brushing by her friends with a gentle touch or a softly spoken word. As graceful and poised as her movements were, she was a woman on a mission. Amidst the din of music and conversation, tinkling crystal and the crackling of the fire, Buffy searched the party for the one face she hadn't seen all night. The soft glow of white twinkle lights could be seen from the corner of her eye, but she doubted he'd be hiding in the Christmas tree.

"Buffy!" she heard Willow cry out. Turning too suddenly, as the Slayer was wont to do, Buffy was encountered with champagne from Willow's glass.

"Oh no," Willow gushed. Buffy noted the girl's cheeks were flushed and she had a slight glassy look in her eyes. Obviously Will had imbibed one too many. "I hope I haven't ruined your dress," the redhead said as she dabbed at the shimmery white silk of Buffy's dress.

"It's okay, Will. I'll just go upstairs and make sure the stain doesn't set in. Did you need something?" Buffy asked, noting the two men in tuxes standing behind Willow. She had to admit Xander and Oz cleaned up quite snazzily. Will looked picture perfect herself -- besides the obvious signs of a slight buzz -- in a classic strapless black velvet dress.

"It's almost midnight, and Will just wanted to make sure all of us Scoobies were together," Xander volunteered.

"Oh," Buffy said, nodding. "Okay, well, let me just go get cleaned up. Mom would kill me if I ruined this dress after just one night. Especially since she found out what a pretty penny it cost me. I'll be right down, kay?" She watched Xander and Oz steer Willow to the kitchen.

While she was walking upstairs, Buffy paused midway, sweeping another searching glance over the room before heading into the bathroom. As she looked into the mirror, she had to admit it wasn't a large spill. With any luck she'd catch it in time. However, that meant she had to change. Slipping off the gown, Buffy treated the dress and hung it over the bathtub with a prayer. Scrunching up her nose, she debated making a mad dash to her room. No one was supposed to be upstairs, but she was hesitant to stroll around in the buff. Oh that would be cute. Buffy in the buff. She could practically hear the frightful jokes. It was no use taking the chance -- people had the tendency to wander, after all -- so she wrapped a towel around herself and walked to her room. When she entered, she was glad she hadn't decided to brave the wilds. It was quite chilly inside, which didn't make sense since they had central heat and air. But after looking around, Buffy spotted the problem. Her window was wide open. Immediately, Buffy was on edge. She walked to the window sill and looked out, noting nothing especially wrong or out of place.

"'Come to the party,' she says. 'It'll be a lot of fun,' she says. 'It just won't be the same without you. You're a part of the group now whether you want to be or not,' she says. Hasn't noticed I'm not around, has she? I could bloody well be freezing off my bleedin' unmentionables, and she'd let me," she heard mumbling above her.

Buffy turned her head ever so slowly to look up. She was met with the view of the bottom of Spike's boots. Which was really kinda nasty. Didn't he ever clean those things? It took all of her control not to laugh as she listened.

"But noooo. She had to insist I make an appearance. Show a little fang, now that's what I should do. Not that she wouldn't stake me in an instant," he said to himself. He *was* by himself, wasn't he? And he was talking about her? Buffy remembered quite well how put out Spike had acted when she'd insisted he come to their New Year's Eve party. "Probly wouldn't even notice," he continued grumpily. "Not while Boy Wonder's in her face anyway. Now there's a neck I wouldn't mind taking a bite out of. In fact, the only good thing about 'im is he dislikes my blasted Sire as much as I do. 'Dead Boy'," Spike mused aloud before taking another sloshing swallow of the champagne he'd pilfered from the Summer's kitchen before heading up on the roof. The sight of Buffy kissing Xander had sent the soulless vampire into a fit of jealousy. It didn't matter that they'd probably only been being "friendly". That was just a little too "friendly" for Spike's tastes. Unless, of course, she ever decided to be that "friendly" to him.

Buffy slid back inside silently and discarded the towel before pulling on an old pair of jeans and her favorite crimson sweater. It was V-necked and contoured to her body and so extremely soft and cuddly. She fought with her tennis shoes for a moment and hastily unpinned her hair, running her fingers through the silken blonde locks. When she was satisfied that she looked perfectly unkempt, Buffy climbed out of her window and onto the roof. She misjudged her grip by a degree and pulled herself up, practically into Spike's lap.

"Howdy," she said, holding back a grin as she hopped over him and sat down.

"'Lo, cutie. Thought you had a party to go to," Spike said, not bothering to sit up. He'd been lying on the roof, staring up at the stars, and thinking about the little Slayer who was now seated beside him.

"Ehhhh. Willow spilled her drink on me and I had to come up to change. What's your excuse for being antisocial?"

"I'm afraid any more time with your pals would have inspired me to celebrate the New Year with a snack. Unfortunately, I remember you expressly telling me not to eat the guests. So, no fun for Spikey."

Buffy grinned. "Good thinking." And good old Spike. "Formal" for Spike obviously didn't mean the same to him as it did to others, she noted appreciatively as her gaze roamed over his tight leather pants. As her look traveled up and over his red silk shirt -- and the black mesh one beneath it -- Buffy offered up a silent thanks to the Powers That Be that he hadn't stuck around downstairs. It wasn't that she was ashamed of him. On the contrary, she didn't want any of the "friendly" skanks downstairs to see him like this. No, she wanted to keep this all to herself. "I'd hate to start the New Year off with a dusting. It just doesn't bode well."

"Mmmm," he grunted. "So why are you out here bothering me, Slayer? To think I thought I might enjoy a night by myself for once." *Please don't go away,* he silently pleaded.

"What? You don't relish my company? And here I thought you were sticking around because of my great smile," Buffy teased.

"More like there's no where else to go. Might as well stay here. Can't raise any Hell, but hey, that's not my job, it's Angel's."

Buffy stiffened at his words. Two years since he'd left and it was still hard to talk about Angel. They were friends now, but Buffy tended to shy away from the subject. Spike, however, was a different matter. Tact was a foreign word to him. She smiled slightly and plucked at the black shirt, her nails slipping between the netting. "Well...it's obviously not my keen fashion sense keeping you here," she noted, determined to change the subject.

Spike shrugged and grinned up at her. "I don't get any complaints," he told her, a pleased grin on his face.

Buffy laughed. "That's probably 'cause the only people who see you these days are us and the demons you're up against. I doubt there's time for them to comment on your...unique...style of dressing."

Spike smiled as he reached out and tapped his finger against her nose. "Haven't heard you complaining though, have I, luv?"

Buffy flushed and looked up at the stars, ignoring his question. They sat in comfortable silence for a long time.

"You know," Spike said finally, his gaze never leaving the shining silver orbs above him, "It was a tradition, when I was a child, to make a wish at midnight."

Buffy looked down at him. He looked so innocent, so normal, lying there and talking about his childhood. Had she not known better, it would seem like any other date with a guy. Not that this was a date. But to hear Spike reveal intimate details about his life, well...it made her heart smile. Obviously he was beginning to trust her. Just like she trusted him. The fact that she'd never uttered the words to anyone didn't matter. Buffy trusted Spike with her life. She had to, or she could never fight side by side with him every night. And he'd never let her get hurt.

Staring down at him now, Buffy was almost able to imagine that things were different. That he wasn't a vampire and she wasn't the Slayer. But in her heart, she knew it wasn't really something she wanted to forget. Part of Spike's allure was that he was different. He was a vampire and a rebel and the danger he exuded made her blood boil. He wasn't safe like Angel, who would have died before hurting her in any way. Except when he left. And he wasn't safe like Riley, who was human and relatively normal. Spike was a vampire. Spike would hurt her -- even if it was for her own good. And when she looked closer, Buffy could see that maybe he didn't seem so normal. The way the pale moonlight only increased his skin's likeness to alabaster, the way his lashes fanned out over his cheeks -- their shadows only deepening the set of his eyes, the way his cheekbones were so chiseled and his lips were so full and his brows were so arrogant...all of these enhanced the ethereal aura that seemed to surround him.

"You mean like wishing on a star?" she asked, her voice carrying her dreamlike feelings.

Spike sat up and looked at her. "On a shooting star?" he asked curiously.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Or just on any star."

Spike shook his head and laughed. "Just wishing on any star? That doesn't seem very magical, Slayer. Never heard of it."

Buffy gaped at him. "You've never heard of wishing on a star. You know, 'Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight...'?" At Spike's bewildered look, Buffy sighed. "You really have been out of it for too long."

"Tell me more," Spike asked. When Buffy talked about wishes, the look in her eyes made her seem years younger. He could almost imagine what she'd been like as a little girl, wishing on her stars.

Buffy laughed slightly and sat up Indian style, her hands resting on her knees. "Uhhh, okay. Well, you pick the first star you see at night and you say, 'Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.' I think that's kinda self-explanatory," she finished, a bit self-consciously.

"Seems rather redundant to me," he told her. He liked to watch her lips move when she talked. Her smile was always quick to show itself, and it was so warm. When she smiled, it was like a light went on in her face. Buffy was beautiful, but she was luminous when she smiled.

Buffy frowned. "Yeah, well, it's not like I've heard of making a wish at midnight on New Year's Eve, so don't knock it."

"You know," Spike said after a bit. "It's been so long since I've made any wish. I mean, you get to be as old as I am and you see the world, and there's no real use for wishing. The good ones never come true."

"I know what you mean," Buffy agreed softly. "I mean, I'm not nearly two hundred years old," she amended, "but I've probably reached the old age of Slayerhood. The world used to seem like a place of wonder and possibilities. But in the real world, wishes just can't survive."

They sat in companionable silence once again. Each seemed lost in their own thoughts, but Spike was concentrating on the sound of Buffy's breathing and Buffy was focused on the way his thigh was pressed against hers.

"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!" they heard the chanting from downstairs, followed by the cacophony of noisemakers and screams and laughter and horns.

"Make a wish," Spike leaned over and whispered softly in her ear.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne!

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne."

The loud singing from downstairs wafted up and seemed to become a throbbing force in the cold night air.

"So...what'd ya wish?" Spike asked with a grin.

Buffy laughed and leaned over, playfully shoving him with her shoulder. "I can't tell you that, silly. My wish wouldn't come true if I did."

Spike turned towards her and leaned forward ever so slightly. "That's not true," he told her huskily, his eyes glowing unnaturally bright.

Buffy had noticed a while back, with a small amount of surprise, that when Spike got excited his eyes -- halfway between his normal clear blue and his demonic gold -- tended to become an incandescent blue-green. His eyes were beautiful. "It's not?" she asked him, her voice light and breathy as she unconsciously moved closer to him.

Spike shook his head. "No," he told her seriously. They weren't joking around anymore. "A wish is a wish. If it's gonna come true, it will...regardless of who you tell." He braced a hand behind her, his shoulder brushing lightly against hers.

"Oh..." was all Buffy could think to say. The sight of Spike's lips so near to her, the cold planes of his face inviting her caress, caused all thoughts to fly from her mind.

"Yeah," Spike murmured quietly. Her eyes were uncommonly large, their hazel light like pools inviting him to drown in them. Which, Spike realized, he would do quite willingly. As his gaze wandered over her flawless features, Spike marveled at the inner light that seemed to radiate from her. She was so good; it seemed wrong of him to feel this way for her. As if he might tarnish her. Spike had never felt so unworthy of anything as he did then, staring into Buffy's fathomless eyes. She'd never said anything, but Spike knew she trusted him, cared for him. There were so many ways he could use that against her, was tempted to use that against her. The demon in him recognized her trust as the weak link he could manipulate to bring down yet another Slayer. But a larger part inside of him, inside of his heart, knew that Buffy wasn't just another Slayer. She was his Slayer. And he would do anything he could to protect her from harm. "So what'd you wish?"

Buffy shook her head, bringing her closer to him yet. A few strands of her golden hair brushed against his cheek and caught on the silk of his shirt, but Spike didn't mind. "I...still can't," she whispered.

"Why not?" he asked, not letting his tone betray his surprise.

Buffy bowed her head. "'Cause...it kinda has something to do with you," she admitted grudgingly.

Spike smiled slightly. So her wish had something to do with him, huh? "Well, that's rather amusing."

Her brow scrunched up. "Why?" she asked, becoming defensive.

Spike lifted his free hand and brushed his knuckles over the curve of her cheek in a soft caress. He let his eyes drift shut momentarily as he basked in the smoothness and warmth of her skin. His finger slid beneath her chin and Spike raised her face to his. "'Cause mine rather involves you, Slayer," he told her, his voice raspy and laced with desire.

Buffy's breath caught in her throat as she stared into Spike's eyes, the brilliant blue lights feverish with something she would have sworn was passion. "So what'd you wish?" she asked hesitantly.

Spike curled his fingers around the back of her neck and tilted her head back, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive hollow between her neck and shoulder and sending delicious tingles down her spine. His lips hovered a scant hair's breadth above hers and he smiled sexily. "I'd rather show you," he murmured before his mouth descended the short distance to her parted lips.

She tasted like the sun. Which seemed a totally inane thought to Spike, but it sounded right. She tasted like everything good that he'd ever been denied. Her mouth was warm and moist and her tongue was like velvet. It sent shivers down his spine. Buffy was completely intoxicating.

He tasted like champagne. The thought made Buffy want to giggle, but she was *so* otherwise occupied. He tasted like everything she'd been missing, everything she'd been longing for. His mouth was cool and moist and his tongue was like velvet. She couldn't breath, but it didn't matter. The sheer shock of the friction his entire being caused against hers was too exquisite for her to want to let him go. Spike was completely intoxicating.

Spike lifted his head and gazed down at her. "Happy New Year, Slayer," he whispered after he caught his nonexistent breath. Kissing Buffy was a heady experience. He could see why the Great Poof had enjoyed her so much. Loved her so much.

A satisfied smile played over Buffy's slightly swollen lips. "Happy New - " she began.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!" three voices chimed in, finishing the statement that Buffy could not. Buffy's eyes opened wide and she reluctantly turned towards the sound. *Please don't be.... Please don't be....* she prayed.

It was. Willow, Oz and Xander were crouched on the roof top, about three feet away. "You two weren't at the party," Willow said, "so we decided to bring the party to you."

Buffy unwrapped her arms from around Spike's neck and sat up a bit, pushing Spike back from his position above her. "Still blitzed?" she asked Oz, referring to Willow, as she pointedly avoided Xander's unhappy look.

"She found the Jell-O shots," Oz offered.

Buffy winced. "Ouch."

"Bu-uuu-uuu-fffy!" Willow whined. "You're not dressed!"

Spike regarded the witch with raised eyebrows. "She's not quite right in the head, is she?" he whispered in Buffy's ear.

Buffy swatted him. "You're one to talk," she murmured before returning her attention to her friends. "If you guys don't mind heading back downstairs, we'll only be a second. Spike was...ummm...sharing an old tradition. About wishes. And midnight. About making wishes at midnight," she finished lamely.

"And what exactly were you wishing?" Xander asked, but Willow pushed him down. "Toodles," she called over her shoulder.

When they were alone again, Buffy and Spike looked at each other.

"So..." Buffy said awkwardly.

"So," Spike echoed, not sorry at all that he'd kissed her.

Buffy licked her lips and Spike felt his heart contract as he watched her small pink tongue travel over her lips.

"So that was your wish, huh?" Buffy asked as she slipped off the roof and into her room. She dusted off the back of her jeans and Spike shook his head appreciatively as he watched her small hands travel over the curve of her ass.

"Like it wasn't yours, Slayer," he said chidingly.

Buffy swung around. "Excuse me?" she asked incredulously. "No, it was not," she assured him.

"Riiight. You'd like me to believe that. Look, we both enjoyed it. You might as well admit it."

Buffy gaped at him. "You are...are...an egotistical, illogical, Billy Idol wannabe...*vampire*...and I *so* did *not* wish you'd kiss me!" she sputtered furiously.

"So what did you wish?" Spike asked her with deceptive calm, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Buffy blushed, turned away from in a huff and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "I don't have to tell you that."

Spike narrowed his eyes. A slow smile formed over his features. "Ohhhhhh. I get it. You wished for more than that, did you, Slayer? What was it?" he asked curiously. "Did you wish I'd touch you? That I'd make love to you?" his voice lowered as mental pictures flooded his mind. He'd be more than happy to oblige her.

Since Spike was caught up in his dreams, he didn't even see Buffy's fist flying at his face. Didn't notice it until he was flat on his back and Buffy was standing over him, smirking. He lifted his hand to his jaw. She really packed a good punch, even for a Slayer.

"Yeah, you want me, Slayer," he said knowingly.

Buffy threw her hands up in the air. "Can you *not* get over yourself? Thanks, but I'll be joining the party now, Fly Boy." She stalked out of her room, leaving Spike on the floor.

But she still heard him yelling after her. "You *know* you love me, Slayer!!!"

"In your dreams, Spike!" she answered, her voice ringing out over the noise of the party.

Spike hopped to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh yeah. You want me, Slayer," he said to himself, grinning. "Just have to wear you down." Grinning, he strolled out of her room, content to finally join the party.





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