Digging Out of the Tunnel
Sequel to “Tunnel Blockage”
By Barb (Once Bitten Spike)
Buffy peered into the refrigerator hopefully, then frowned. No decent leftovers to be had that Dawn hadn’t marked as after school snackage. The few remaining possibilities had spoons stuck in them already, a sure sign that her sister had already been at those, as well.
Bummer. Still too early for breakfast, she was hoping to find a quick snack to tide her over and now would have to actually make one.
She yawned widely and nearly lost her balance, hanging onto the refrigerator door for support. Slamming the door shut, she padded barefooted over to the utensil drawer and yanking it open, she pulled out a butter knife and closed the drawer more gently, this time remembering that it was only six a.m. and everyone in the house was still asleep.
She started to pull the inevitable jar of peanut butter from the cupboard shelf and paused to yawn again. Stretching her arms over her head and trying to get the most out of the stretch, she lost her grip on the butter knife and it clattered to the floor.
Maybe this pre-breakfast snack was just not meant to be. Annoyed at her lack of dexterity she grabbed the knife back up, laid it on the table, snatched a loaf of bread from the counter top, and sat down with it plus the peanut butter.
As she put a generous dollop of the calorie-laden spread onto a slice of bread, she thought about the things that had transpired in her bedroom only the night before.
Lost in thought, she took a large bite of her finished sandwich and chewed it slowly for a moment, then stopped, frowning at her sandwich. It needed something. Marshmallow spread!
She hopped up and dug through the cabinet but was unable to find what she searched for, and decided to settle for the marshmallows themselves. To her considerable disappointment, there were none.
“Damn!” She was sure that her mother had brought some home today, as well as more cocoa, because she’d joked about Spike being so fond of them.
Buffy sat back down and ate the sandwich sans marshmallow and returned to thinking about the previous night’s events, which included her ‘sort of’ date with Spike, the gang’s reactions to finding them alone in the dark in her room, and her own thoughts later about everyone’s misguided good intentions, which she decided right then and there would be nipped in the bud, before anything sillier could occur.
She took another large bite of sandwich before she’d fully chewed the last one just as a horrible thought came to her. If her well-meaning friends and relatives had opened that door about a minute later than they had, they might have really gotten an eye full.
She’d been about to remove her top, because Spike had told her that if she did, he would spare Mr. Gordo’s life, and not throw her stuffed animal out the window as he’d threatened.
God. And she had been full of the devil, spurred on by the challenge in his twinkling blue eyes, and had been just about to do it, forgetting all about it until this moment…
“Gaaaak!” She choked on her mouthful, and her elbow knocked the peanut butter jar off the table. It hit the floor and smashed into several pieces (of course, her mother had to buy the stuff in glass, not plastic) but she was too busy gagging and trying not to suck something down the wrong pipe to worry about the jar.
Spike grimaced in his sleep and rolled over the other way to drown out a bothersome racket from above that was keeping him from settling in for a good day’s rest.
He pulled the soft comforter up over his head and tried to ignore it, but then, as it sounded like someone was trying to clear their throat in a really gross and rude manner, he sat halfway up and squinted at the luminous dial on the watch he’d laid on the floor beside the cot.
Six fifteen a.m.…A.M.????
He’d only gotten to sleep an hour before!!
“Bloody Hell!” He cursed softly, and was about to add more when he remembered that none of the people above knew that he’d decided to roost in the basement, and besides, even though it sounded like someone was choking a bloody cat, they had a perfect right to make all the noise they wanted. It was their house, after all.
He sighed. He was only a vampire with a tenuous foothold on Buffy’s affections and he should be satisfied with their progress of late, and stop being a wanker.
The noise from above stopped, suddenly.
“Bout’ bloody time!” He said, rolling his eyes at the floorboards above.
Spike reached over and took the half empty, now cold cup of cocoa topped with marshmallows and brought it up to his lips, sipping at it as he eyed the thermos bottle that sat near by.
The thermos had contained some ‘real food’ that he’d nipped down town and acquired earlier. He’d greedily gulped it down before sleeping, to keep from starving, with no guilt what so ever. He’d behaved himself, and bought it legitimately, although the source was less so.
Of course, one of these days, Xander would probably realize that Spike had picked his pocket during their ‘discussion’ in Buffy’s bedroom, and miss the money that he had ‘borrowed’, but, the kid was already mad at him anyway, Spike was broke, and not about to go hungry when he didn’t have to.
After draining the remaining cocoa, which never failed to comfort him, he sighed in contentment, mouthed a little kiss at the floorboards above his head, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
He never heard, as Buffy, after drinking a glass of water to wash down the peanut butter, cleaned up the mess in the kitchen.
As she dumped the broken glass into the trash she cursed.
“Bloody Hell!” Then she stomped back up the stairs to get a couple more hours of sleep, realized her choice of words, and smiled, fondly.
Dawn paused at the top of the basement steps. It was only eleven a.m. on a Saturday, and here she was, stuck doing laundry. She turned back and yelled into the living room, where Buffy and Willow were sitting, talking.
“Have you seen my favorite comforter?”
Buffy rolled her eyes at Willow and sighed. “Stop stalling, and get down there and get started. Even mystical energy has chores to do.”
Willow threw her a look that said, ‘don’t be such a big sister’, but Buffy just grinned at her and then remembered something. Getting up off the couch she motioned Willow to stay put and went to where Dawn stood, arms crossed, and pouting a little by the door.
“That reminds me. Did you use my hair gel? I left it in the bathroom, but now it’s gone.”
“Why would I use that gunk? I don’t like it, it makes my hair feel all stiff, like Spikes’.” And while she was on that subject…“Speaking of him, what do you think?” She grinned at her big sister.
Buffy frowned. “About his hair? Well, now that you mention it I don’t like that gel on it, either.” She got a dreamy, far away look on her face.
Dawn knew the look. It was the Mode formerly known as Angel, which was now the Spike Mode. Drooling was the next scheduled event. “I don’t mean his hair, I mean the rest.”
Buffy snapped out of it, reluctantly. “Rest of what?”
Dawn’s eyes rolled upwards. She spoke slowly, like she sometimes did to Xander, and small children. “The rest of the dirt! Dish it out! I want to know everything about last night, and especially the part where you kissed him. And don’t tell me that you didn’t, because no girl in her right mind sits in a chair in a bedroom in the dark with a hottie like Spike and doesn’t kiss him!”
Buffy turned and went back into the living room, plopping down beside Willow again. “Ok Wil…what were we saying?”
Willow had heard all that had been said around the corner. “Oh no you don’t. Dawny’s right. Dish!”
At Buffy’s pleading look, Willow gave her a mock frown. “Out with it. Don’t make me use a truth spell!” She didn’t have one of course, but Buffy didn’t know that. It was like getting a warrant, on one of those TV cop shows. She could get one, it would just take longer. She smiled at the thought.
Out numbered, Buffy gave in. She knew that Dawn was going to hear it all anyway, sooner or later, and as long as her mother didn’t hear her chatting about Spike’s unmentionables it would be fun to tell about it.
She turned to summon Dawn, but the teen had already bounced to the couch and sat down on the opposite side of her as Willow, grinning, and twisting at the ends of her long brown hair.
This was going to be better than the time she’d overheard the action as Riley put his hand down Buffy’s pants for the first time. No one ever suspected her, when she was sneaking around. She was nearly as good a sneak as Spike.
But not quite. The Master Vampire, and part time master sneak, had heard the exchange at the doorway, and waiting till the coast was clear, he’d sneaked up the stairs. If he couldn’t bloody sleep, he might just as well listen in, and his newly discovered ‘intercom’, an air vent of some kind down in the basement, wasn’t quite letting him hear into the living room.
He settled against the wall in the hallway and kept perfectly still.
Buffy sighed. She was surrounded. “Ok, what do you want to hear about first?”
Willow just stared at her. “Well DUH! How about everything that we didn’t all see while spying, or should I say, trying to spy on you two.” Warming to the idea, she continued. “Start with any and all kissage that took place, then how he touched you and where, OH and don’t leave out the conversation! That’s very, very important! And then you need to rate it on a scale of one to ten, so we can compare it to the others! Oh, DARN I wish I’d brought my colored pens!”
Willow’s eyes were bright, her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing hard, as if she’d been running.
Buffy’s eyes slid over to Dawn, who was sitting there with her mouth open, and back to her best friend. Tara was right. Definitely quirky.
“You haven’t been out much lately, have you Wil?”
The red headed witch tried to relax on the couch and appear as if she didn’t really care all that much about anything, but her inner feelings made a liar out of her as a potted plant on the windowsill abruptly wilted.
Dawn saw it out of the corner of her eye, and swallowed. That plant had never thrived, anyway.
Buffy looked from one to the other and shook her head. Everyone around her seemed so changeable of late. She of course, was like a rock. A big crumbly sandy sort of rock.
Meanwhile, round the corner, Spike was getting bored out of his mind. He was dying for a cig and was just about to slink back down the stairs when he heard Buffy start to speak again, and stayed where he was.
Buffy leaned forward as she began to tell Dawn and Willow a little about her evening with Spike.
“First of all, I’ll tell you this much, he can really kiss.”
Willow sat up with great interest. “Rate it!”
Buffy just looked at her for a minute, and her friend relaxed her posture a bit, but looked so disappointed that she sighed, and tossed her a bone. “It was at least a ten.”
Dawn squealed and said, “I knew it! You can just tell, by that cute lower lip he has!”
Both Buffy and Willow looked at Dawn, askance.
Dawn snorted. “Backward, much? We do have broom closets at my school, too y’know.
Buffy, wondering if her mother had ever had that all-important talk with her sister, continued. “Um, ok. Anyway, it was a very good kiss, and please don’t ask me to compare it to anyone else’s. It was different, but in a very good way.”
Willow coaxed her just a little. “And you can’t compare it to, say, um…”
Buffy, aware that Dawn was hanging on every word debated going into the territory that she knew Willow wanted her to.
Waiting for Buffy’s next words, with a keen sense of dread mixed with curiosity, was Spike. “Come on, Slayer,” he whispered. “Say it. Say the bloody name.”
As he heard her begin to speak he nearly bit through his lower lip in impatience. His ‘cute’ lower lip. He smiled, and strained his ears to hear.
“Alright, if you must know, Spike does kiss better than Angel.” Buffy paused for a second, convinced that she’d heard some sort of sound in the hallway, but Willow and Dawn were making so much noise that she gave up trying to hear.
Willow was arguing that Buffy had loved Angel with a pure, first love, and that it would never truly end, no matter what she might feel for someone else.
Dawn was reminding Willow that Spike had saved Buffy from countless vampires while on patrol, and where was Angel then? And something about Spike’s cute little ass.
They were both presenting their cases like lawyers, and at the top of their lungs, giving Buffy whiplash as she tried to keep up, until she clapped her hands over her ears and yelled at them to be quiet.
Dawn stuck her tongue out at Willow.
Willow told her she was a child.
Dawn retaliated by flipping her the ‘bird’.
Buffy, about to chide them for their behavior, held up one hand in a demand for silence as, this time, she was sure she’d heard something in the hallway.
It was just after she’d confessed to liking Spike’s kiss over Angel’s, and it had distinctly sounded like someone saying ‘Yes!’ in a loud whisper.
Putting her finger to her lips in a plea for silence, Buffy smiled and motioned to the girls to follow her lead.
“But, you know,” began Buffy. “The real difference between Angel and Spike is a kind of…odor. Angel always smelled good. But Spike…do you think that vampires can have B.O.??”
A distinctly audible, choking sound came from the hallway, and as Dawn and Willow clapped hands over their mouths to silence their hysterical laughter, Buffy got up and crept quietly over to the doorway.
Reaching around out of Dawn and Willow’s view, she grabbed on to Spike’s arm and hauled him out for display.
Right across a tiny beam of sunlight that stretched along the carpet!
Spike yanked his arm from Buffy’s grasp and yelped in pain and surprise, then looked at her with a shocked expression, as he dodged away from the sunny spot.
Buffy, who honestly hadn’t intended to hurt him, was about to apologize for her unintentional gaff but remembered that he hadn’t explained how he came to be here in the middle of the day.
Her radar honed in on how twitchy he looked, and suspicion set in. “Spike, what the hell are you doing here?”
Think fast, think fast. Lie. Most definitely, lie! “Just passing by?”
“Haven’t we had this conversation once before? But, say now, that was at night, wasn’t it? And you said the same thing. Which we now know to be a fib, don’t we?”
“We do.” Spike couldn’t argue with that. “But it’s true, this time.” He gave her a very sexy look that had Dawn making an appreciative sound from the couch.
Buffy glared at her sister, and indicated with a nod that she and Willow could go make themselves scarce while she finished grilling Spike.
As the disappointed duo filed past, Dawn mouthed, “Bitch.”
Buffy filed that under the same heading as her own slippage lately, due to the influences of a certain vampire.
Waiting until they had gone out to sit on the porch, she turned back to Spike who was looking extremely uncomfortable. “Well?”
Spike was not one for beating around the bush very long, and he hated having to do it now, just to protect his own skin, but he was very attached to his skin. It had been with him for over a hundred years, after all. “Like I said, Slayer, I was just passing by, and came in just then, when you heard me.”
“When I heard you the first time, or the last time?”
“The last time…ah, shit, Buffy, that wasn’t fair. And it was just a slip of the tongue, what I really meant to say was…”
“Spike, do you really mean to tell me that you came all the way over here to my house in broad daylight, in just your shirt and jeans? Not even a blanket to cover up with?”
“Uh…yes.”
“Barefooted?”
Crap. He’d been in such a hurry to eavesdrop that he’d forgotten his boots. “Well, ok, I guess you’ve got me.”
“I haven’t even started! And Dawn is missing a bedspread, and I’m missing my hair gel. And we would find them where?”
Spike hung his head like a small boy caught in the cookie jar. “The basement.”
“You slept in the basement, after I asked you to go home?”
“You only said that I couldn’t stay in Dawn’s room, Pet. The basement was fair game.”
Buffy stared at him in disbelief. What had she gotten herself into? “There’s one thing I have to know from you, Spike.”
She didn’t sound all that mad. “And that is?”
“Why didn’t you just slip into my room while I was asleep. You could have, you know.”
Actually, he’d asked himself the same question as he laid down there on the cot, but kept coming up with the same answer. “Because I wasn’t invited.” He just stood there, and looked at her with a hopeful expression.
“No, you weren’t invited. Because I need more time.” It was true. She did need more time, in spite of her raging hormones, because if she was really in love with this vampire, his lower lip and his ass included, she needed to go slowly.
No matter how much she’d like to just take him upstairs right now and enjoy him for the rest of the day, he wasn’t hearing that from her just yet.
Spike was fed up with her stalling. He knew that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Why couldn’t she just act on it? “You’re repressed, is what.”
“Excuse me?!”
“You bloody well heard what I said.”
“I am not repressed, but I’m impressed with how you used the word in a sentence.”
“You’re so plugged up that you’re about to bust wide open. You need your cork popped, Pet. And soon, before it kills one of us.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but saw that he was grinning at her. So, to wipe that infuriating grin from his mouth, she played her trump card. “Well, we’ll just have to see, won’t we? You might as well know, that I’ve called Angel, and he’s coming here tonight to help me decide what I should do about some of the changes in my life.”
“The Poof?!” Spike’s face would have been purple if possible. “What the fuck did you go and bloody do THAT for?”
Buffy was tired of arguing, and she wanted to quit while she was at least this much ahead in the game. Of course, she was not really that far ahead. She hadn’t really called Angel as yet, but she was going to, just as soon as she finished reaming Spike a new one. “He’s gonna be here tonight, like I said. So why don’t you go and crawl back down the stairs and hide again?”
At first, all Spike could do was sputter.
Buffy giggled in spite of herself. He sounded like a motorboat.
Spike opened his mouth to fling a nasty retort, and then remembered that she hadn’t thrown him out…just banished him back to the basement.
He strode up to her, grabbed her up against him with her feet dangling and kicking, and kissed her until her feet stopped moving. And then he added a few seconds more just for good measure, and because he was getting off on it.
So was the audience on the front porch, a spot that had turned out to be front row seats. Dawn and Willow were plastered to the window, which was beginning to fog up.
As Spike stopped kissing her, Buffy pulled her head back a little groggily and realized that she was still in Spike’s arms with her feet off the floor. She dimly heard her sister’s muffled voice, saying, “Give it to her, Spike!”
Spike looked into her eyes, his blue ones boring a hole into her brain. Then he slowly let her slide down his body making sure that she came into prolonged contact with the growing bulge in his jeans.
He sat her on her feet, and stepped back.
“Call anyone that you like, Slayer. Take all the time you think you need. We both know how this is gonna end up.”
With a cocky grin, he wheeled and headed for the basement, leaving her to think about it.
But as soon as he got there, he crawled onto the cot and sunk into a depression the size of the Grand Canyon.
“Fuck me.” He said, and he drew his legs up, putting his arms around them, and put his chin on his knees.
The last thing he needed right now, was Buffy’s former true love to come in and muck up the situation that he had worked so hard to bring this far.
Not only was Angel a rival in his love for Buffy, but the big ponce was also his ‘grandsire’ of a sorts. Just another screwed up soap opera family.
He sighed, and flopped back on the cot, putting his forearms over his eyes.
He might as well try to get some rest before the shit hit the fan.
Buffy had gone up to her room after sending Willow and Dawn out on an errand. She wanted the house empty, as empty as possible with a vampire in the basement, while she made the phone call that she was dreading.
She almost hoped that her mother would come home from her Saturday at the gallery a little early, and she could postpone this some more, but five minutes later, she pressed the buttons on the phone slowly, not unlike she was walking the last mile.
Angel had given her this number recently, after acquiring a cell phone, and once he’d figured out how to use it had only given out the number to Cordy, Wes, Gunn, and herself, to be used for emergencies only.
The familiar voice answered on the third ring. “Hello? Tina, is that you? I just left your place, man that was quick.”
Buffy, surprised and a little stunned, was unable to speak for a moment.
“Hello…is anyone there? Tina, are you ok?”
“Angel…it’s me. It’s Buffy.”
“Oh…hey, hi there. I thought you were someone else. Is everything ok, are you alright?”
She felt her lower lip begin to tremble, and then chided herself for it. If Angel was seeing someone it was really none of her business. “I’m fine, Angel, it’s just…it’s nothing. I just wanted to touch base, that’s all. How is everyone there, how’s, um, Cordy?”
Angel’s radar went crazy. Buffy could care less how Cordelia was doing. “Buffy, whatever it is, you can tell…” Then he realized why she wasn’t getting to the point. “Buffy, Tina is a client. I told her to call me if she got the idea to take some pills again. She nearly overdosed recently.”
Funny, but the explanation didn’t make her feel the relief she thought it should. In fact, she really didn’t care that he’d told her, other than being interested in what he was doing of late.
Then it hit her. She didn’t mind if he was dating, not really. In fact, she hoped that he was, as long as he didn’t get deliriously happy over it. (For obvious Angelus reasons) And she knew why she felt as she did, and grinned like a silly teenager. “Angel? There’s something that I’ve got to tell you. Are you sitting down?” Buffy started at the beginning, or as near to it as needed for clarity, about Spike’s capture by the Initiative, leaving out of course, anything involving Riley, except to say he’d left, because Angel had never taken a shine to him.
She underlined how helpless Spike had been after the chip had been put in his head, and how he’d at first helped them all out for money (at which point Angel made a rude noise and said ‘sounds like Spike’ ) and then, after taking a deep breath, she told him about Spike’s stalker like habits, where she was concerned, and then about it finally culminating in the scene beneath Spike’s crypt.
When he learned that Spike had fed again, on a human, Angel said in a serious, even tone. “Buffy, why is Spike still not-breathing? Why didn’t you stake him?”
Another deep breath. Nope, chickened out. “Can we meet somewhere? This is gonna run your bill wayyyy up.”
“Buffy.”
“Oooh…ok. Angel, I hope you sat down like I asked.”
“I’m laying down, in my bed. You woke me up. Daylight, remember?”
“Oh, my bad. I forgot. Sweet dreams!”
Buffy hung up the phone and backed away from it as if it was the boogey man. Sure enough, it began to ring a minute later.
She sighed, and picked it up. “H…hello?”
“Like Paul Harvey, I’m waiting for the ‘rest of the story’.”
Buffy could hear the impatience in his voice, as well as suspicion. Angel wasn’t as dumb as he seemed, sometimes. Ashamed at the traitorous thoughts about someone she’d once loved very much, she answered him. “Angel, I think… I know, that I’m in love with Spike. And as I told you, he said he was in love with me down in the crypt, but I didn’t really believe him, and I denied any feelings for him, and…Angel? You still there?”
Buffy waited anxiously but when a voice finally answered it wasn’t Angels’.
“Hello, who the hell is this?” Cordelia’s voice shrilled from the receiver.
Oh shit…“Hi Cordy. It’s Buffy. I was just asking about you. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m just fine. But don’t you have an elsewhere to call? What the hell did you say to Angel? He’s catatonic!”
Buffy was just about to ask her what she was doing in Angel’s bedroom when Angel’s voice returned to the conversation. At the other end.
Buffy could hear him telling Cordelia to give the phone back, and to stop dusting his room while he slept, and to get out because his sheet was slipping.
She giggled.
“Buffy!” Angel said, in a loud, imperative tone.
“What?” Buffy answered back in an innocent voice.
“Listen, we need to talk about this. I just happen to have time to come over there tonight, but it will be awhile, of course, till I can leave. Just promise me that you won’t DO anything until we talk.”
“Uh…that depends on what you mean by ‘do anything’.” Buffy heard a groan at the other end. “But we’ve only kissed…mostly. But just because we keep getting interrupted!” And because Buffy is chicken.
“Look, you tell Spike to keep it in his pants until you and I have a little heart to heart, is that clear?”
Buffy didn’t like his tone. “I don’t think I need your advice after all, Angel. But thank you for going all parental, anyway.”
Angel sucked in a deep unnecessary breath. “You may not want it, but you’re going to get it anyway. I’ll be there later this evening. And tell Spike, that I said that he can shove his…CORDELIA! Get out of here!”
The line went dead. Buffy figured that the sheet must have finally slipped all the way off. She grinned, as she imagined Cordelia running for her life with a pissed off Angel, his legs tangled in a sheet, chasing her.
A pissed off Angel that would arrive at her house sometime this evening.
“Oh shit. Spike, forgive me, but this is gonna be a long night!” Buffy fell back on her bed, her forearms over her eyes, unknowingly in the same position as the blonde vampire in the basement.
“Oh, Angel! Why couldn’t you live in Canada, instead of L.A.?”
Spike sat nervously at one end of the couch, and Buffy sat stiffly at the other. It was nearly seven-thirty, and both of them felt as if they were on death row, for some reason.
She had sent Dawn over to Xander and Anya’s place, where Willow and Tara were going to join them as well and have a pizza party. And not talk about the Buffy and Spike thing.
To be doubly sure they would not be interrupted during the big meeting, she had talked Xander into taking her mother to a movie. She’d had to promise to buy the pizza for the girls before he’d agreed.
And she knew he’d have done it for less because the last place he wanted to be was in a room with a bunch of women who only wanted to talk about Buffy and Spike’s love life.
The entire time they’d been here, waiting, Buffy had been unable to say the things to Spike that she really wanted to and instead had only come up with a few insults, and those weren’t even original ones but rehashes of previous barbs that she’d used before.
It had finally happened. She’d run out of material.
Spike was nearly numb, and he as well had been resorting to name calling and petty arguing for the last hour or so, his fear of what might happen when Angel came through that front door rendering even his usual sarcastic wit useless.
It was abundantly clear that both were sorry that the dark vampire had been brought into this thing between them, before it could have a chance to reach some sort of conclusion without his interference.
Spike darted a glance at Buffy, who instantly returned it, and they stared hard at one another for a full minute before Spike recovered enough of his normal attitude to speak. “Y’know, Pet. There is a way to make all of this unpleasantness go away.”
Buffy took the bait, lost in Spike’s blue eyes. “Oh?”
Spike, warming to his train of thought, (literally) explained. “We just get up off this couch right this bloody minute, and go up those stairs over there, and go into your room and hump like bleedin’ bunnies till tomorrow morning”
“And that would solve everything for us?”
“Works for me.”
Buffy hated to think it, but it worked for her, too. But Angel was going to be there by eight at the latest, unless he got a ticket for doing ninety all the way there. Which wouldn’t surprise her. She’d gotten them both into this, and she really was sorry about it, but they would have to see it through.
There was a sudden knock on the front door, and they both jumped, but Buffy found that she’d landed right next to Spike, so close to his body that a pin wouldn’t have fit between them.
Her left hand was firmly clutching his crotch in a vise like grip that almost prevented him from hardening at her touch. Almost, but not quite.
Spike forgot all about the knocking at the door that was continuing as they both sat there, incapable of movement, partly because of their fear but mostly due to the strong pull of need between them.
His voice, husky with desire, reached Buffy’s ears through her foggy brain. “Slayer, either take your hand off that, or get up here and bloody sit on it!”
She looked down and was mortified at what she was doing, but her hand stayed where it was, like it had a will of it’s own. “Oops. Sorry Spike.” She glanced at him, and back at the door that was still being pounded upon.
Her hand was so happy where it was, it began to explore. It had relaxed its grip slightly, and now was beginning to map some previously undiscovered territory.
Spike just stared at Buffy like she’d grown another head, which was a condition not uncommon to the Hellmouth.
She was just sitting there, staring at the front door as she felt him up!
What a time to discover that she wanted to shag him just as much as he did her…when they couldn’t do anything about it!
A voice came from behind the front door, and the knocking ceased. “Hello? I know you two are in there, I can smell the sexual tension from here!”
Buffy finally relaxed. It was Xander. She let go of Spike who flopped backwards on the cushions in either relief or frustration, and went and flung open the front door.
Xander stood there, grinning, and Joyce stood beside him. “Early movie,” Xander said, and snickered.
Buffy sighed. “Well, Glory’s finally gone and done it. I’m in Hell.”
Unable to believe that Xander had made that sex comment in front of her mother, she just stood aside as they trooped in, noticing that her mother carried a pizza box, and also that she was trying very hard not to burst out laughing.
Joyce smiled down at Spike as she passed the couch on the way to the kitchen. “Hello Spike, dear. You look tired. Would you like some pizza?”
When she saw that the blonde vampire fairly leaped up to follow her mother, Buffy hissed, “Spike?!”
He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. “If I can’t shag, I am bloody well gonna eat!” He disappeared in the direction the pizza had taken.
Buffy folded her arms and glared at Xander.
The brown eyed self-appointed chaperone, grinned back at her. “If I’d known that Spike would leave you for a pizza I could have ended this thing long before now. The girls parted with this one, it’s an extra.”
“What do you mean by coming here when you knew I wanted to be alone with Spike?!”
“Because I knew you were going to be alone with Spike?”
Buffy closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them, she felt a little less like killing him. For Spike it was usually a much higher number. “But Xander, what you don’t know, and what I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d flip out, is that Angel will be here, too. Any minute now.”
His mouth hung open, but no words came out. Then after a long pause, during which about a million reasons went through his head as to why he’d rather be elsewhere on the planet, he spoke. “But…they don’t get along at all! And now I’m here, and none of us gets along at all! And they both think of you as belonging to them, and I used to think that it would be nice if you belonged to me, but I knew it would never happen in a million years, and now I’ve given you WAY too much information, and please stop me before I divulge anything more!”
Buffy rubbed at her temples. It seemed to help Giles when he did it. “Xander, please go into the kitchen and eat. I want to plan what I’m gonna tell Angel.”
“I’ll just bet that you do.” Xander had recovered some of his swagger. “Just one thing I gotta know, though, Buffster.”
“What is it now?”
He grinned again. “Are you sure you didn’t have some sort of threesome planned here tonight?”
Buffy didn’t find that funny. Her eyes narrowed.
Xander held up his hands in mock surrender. “OK, don’t hurt me. Can I help it if I think that Spike could be that kind of a guy?” He giggled all the way into the kitchen with Buffy’s stare boring holes in his back.
A car door slammed outside and Buffy forgot all about everything as she whirled and looked out the still open door.
Angel had arrived. Buffy watched as he went around to the passenger side and opened the door. He had a passenger?!
As a beautiful woman stepped out of the car Buffy thought she looked familiar, but the hair was all wrong. Her mouth dropped open. Holy reunions, Batman. It was Cordelia!
Buffy looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Glory! Stop it. Please! Stop warping my reality!”
By this time, Angel was standing in front of her, a questioning expression on his face, and Cordelia was just shaking her head as if she’d always known that Buffy would end up nuts.
Not taking the time to worry whether she was thought of as crazy for the Spike thing, talking to herself, or any number of other reasons that Cordelia would already have, Buffy smiled. “Hey Angel, hi Cordy. Come on in.” She turned and preceded them to the living room and offered them the couch that had, until recently, been expecting some real action, but would have to settle for brooding.
Cordelia had a big smile pasted on her face that just wouldn’t go away, and Angel, who noticed that though there was room on the couch for three, Buffy had seated herself in a chair, made no comment.
Buffy did think that she had seen him twitch, just a little. And as Spike’s voice came from the kitchen, arguing about ‘someone’s lousy choice in pizza’ she noticed an actual tremor run down his large frame.
“Well. That was about a five on the tension scale, I’d say. You ok?”
The dark haired vampire had been looking toward the kitchen with undisguised irritation and as Buffy spoke, his head snapped back and he looked her way. “What?”
“Never mind. Listen, there’re a few things that I didn’t cover over the phone that you should know about Spike. Well, mainly one thing…”
Cordelia was tired of sitting there smiling, and dropped the pretenses, interrupting the conversation with a practiced art and absolutely no guilt. “Whatever. Do you both mind if I don’t remain here while you reminisce? I’ll just go out and have some of that food that I hear being consumed in your kitchen, ok?” She got up and swept from the room with a slightly regal air.
Buffy stared after her, and frowned. “She’s such a princess! Anyway, back to what I was wanting to say…”
Angel noticed that she stayed in the chair when she could have joined him on the couch, thus putting a hole in his theory that she hadn’t wanted to sit near Cordy, but filed that away to wait until he had more information. He realized that she was saying something important, and that he’d missed part of it. “You already told me about Spike’s chip, Buffy. On the phone, remember?”
“Hello? Are you in Sunnydale, or still back in L.A.? Pay attention, and save your brooding retrospect for later!” Whoops…that had sounded a bit nasty, hadn’t it? “Sorry, but this is important, and I wanted to tell you before anything happened, or someone else mentioned it. Not that I think that there could be any trouble. I’m sure of it now. Spike is really trying, and he won’t hurt anyone. At least I’m pretty much kinda sure about it, as long as you aren’t Xander.”
Angel was beginning to fidget in his chair, which was ruining his illusion of cool detachment. Every time he heard Spike’s voice from the other room it was grating on his nerves like a fingernail on a blackboard. And he was pretty sure that he had heard the blonde vampire flirting with Cordy, which had caused him to scoot pretty close to the edge of the couch. “Buffy, could you get to the point, if there is one?”
She’d about had it with his impatience, and was a little put out that he didn’t seem to be as glad to see her as she thought he’d be. “Okay. Spike’s chip, the one I told you about on the phone?”
“Yes! What about it? It’s great, it’s perfect, he’s neutered. You told me.”
“Oh, really. Did I? Angel, the chip is the ONLY thing about Spike that is neutered.” Just ask my hand, she thought, and smiled at the memory.
Angel was straining to hear the conversation in the kitchen, but now she had his full attention. “Come again?”
Hopefully, very soon, she thought. “The chip is kaput. Do you need me to repeat that?”
Angel’s hearing was excellent, even for a vampire. He sat up straight and nearly fell off the couch due to his close proximity to the edge.
About then, Cordelia’s scream sent him running for the kitchen with Buffy close behind him.
They both arrived in the doorway to see a fuming mad Cordelia, standing there by the table while Spike dabbed at something red on the front of her dress, with a rag.
“What’s going on here? Cordy, are you alright?” Angel was glaring at Spike, who only smirked up at him and continued to wipe.
Cordelia glared at Buffy. “No, I am most certainly not alright! This uncouth dolt of a vampire has ruined me! This dress cost a fortune, and it’s not like I have one of those any more, y’know?”
Joyce, standing to one side, snapped her fingers. “I think I have some good stain remover in the bathroom.” She hurried off to find it.
Buffy, trying not to grin, tapped Angel on the shoulder. “Pizza sauce.”
Xander piped in. “But listen, Cordelia, if it makes you feel any better, it was a really expensive pizza!”
Spike looked up at him, waiting for an insult aimed in his direction, but when none came, he grinned at his nemesis, who, to his complete surprise, grinned back.
He stopped rubbing at the stain and stood up nose to nose with Cordelia, who was still hopping mad.
“Sorry about the stain, luv. But even if it doesn’t wash, it could have been something so much worse. We are on a hell mouth, y’know.”
She glared at him, and then smirked. “Oh, really? And I suppose you think I should be afraid of you for instance? I’ve heard all about your little chip thingie. And ‘chip’ and ‘dip’ always did go together pretty well, don’t you agree?”
Buffy winced. Spike was never going to let that one go by, and she watched as he put one of his Doc clad feet on top of Cordelia’s open toe sandaled one and begin to put his weight on it, still staring her down, a slight flaring of his nostrils the only sign that he’d like to do a lot more.
“Ouch! Hey! How come you don’t have a headache?”
Spike gave her a sinister smile. “Because I don’t have to ‘fake it’ any longer, you silly bint.”
Buffy was impressed. Spike usually reserved that name for Harmony.
Cordelia’s tanned face went two shades paler, as the point finally went home. Her eyes widened and she tried to remember if she’d crossed the line to far in insulting Spike a moment before.
Angel pushed past Buffy and straight to Spike, who he noticed, didn’t flinch an inch. “Just step back out of her face, Spike.”
Spike turned, removing his boot from her toe, ignoring Cordelia now, who grabbed the rag and rubbed at her dress some more, keeping one eye on the blonde vampire.
He faced Angel, just inches away, and though he had to look up at the dark vampire, his bearing suggested that he was the taller of the two. “What’s the matter, Peaches? Aren’t you glad to see me?” He smiled, showing more than a little bit of tooth, his blue eyes full of the devil.
Angel grabbed a fistful of the front of Spike’s black shirt and put his face so close to Spike’s that no one but the two of them could hear his words. “Hurt Buffy, and you know I don’t mean physically, and I’ll kill you.”
Spike allowed Angel his say. The vampire before him was within his rights, as his elder, if not his relative. “Don’t worry about Buffy. She’s about to be in very good hands, if we can ever get rid of the lot of you.” His words, unlike Angel’s, carried to everyone in the room. “And you seem very protective of this lady that you brought with you. Could she be the reason that you stay in L.A.?”
Angel’s grip on his shirt tightened, but Spike only made a kissing motion at him with his lips.
Joyce picked this time to re-enter the kitchen, smiling as usual. “Angel! Welcome, and nice to see you again. Would you please put Spike down now?”
Angel nodded to Joyce. “Nice to see you, too.” He let go of Spike’s shirt and stepped back, still glaring at the unrepentant vampire.
Spike smirked, and said with a thoughtful expression, “Can someone in this room please tell me, why the bleedin’ hell I got called Spike, when my hair lies down so nice and flat, and this Poof’s goes in all directions?”
Buffy stated, in an amused tone. “Today, Spike’s flat hair-do is courtesy of hair gel. Mine.”
Spike ignored her. He was on a roll. He narrowed his eyes at Cordelia, and ran his tongue out, licking his lips and then smacked them together, just for good measure.
Angel started in the direction of the laughing Spike but Joyce stepped between them. “Isn’t it time that you two had a little chat alone, without an audience?” She turned to Spike. “You, especially, don’t need a cheering section. You’re enjoying yourself way too much.” She smiled, as Spike winked at her. She turned back to Angel. “Take Spike outside, and talk to him. And Angel…listen to him. I think that you might be surprised.”
Buffy had been standing stock-still, wondering if there was going to be a fight between the two vampires, knowing that there was still bad blood between them that didn’t involve herself. She knew all about how Angelus had carried on with Drusilla right under a wheelchair bound Spike’s nose, and taunted him about it both during and after. It hadn’t been Angel, but the demon within him, but she knew that Spike was bitter about it just the same. “I think that’s a very good idea.” She said, quietly.
Both Spike and Angel looked at her in surprise. She wanted them to get together and talk, when she knew that it would most likely end in a fight?
Xander had been stuffing the last of his pizza down the hatch, and stopped in mid chew. Whoa. This should be better than television.
Buffy read his mind. “Go home, Xander. And tell Anya and everyone else to keep an eye on Dawn tonight. I want her to stay over there, just for tonight, and this time, will you please actually stay there too?”
Drat. Xander’s big brown eyes filled with disappointment, but he nodded, and left the kitchen.
Joyce looked at Buffy, mouthed a good luck at her, and followed him out. She was going to go to bed a little early tonight, and let this thing play through. She knew where it was going, and that everyone involved would figure it out. Besides, she was tired. Xander had forced her to sit through a really boring movie today, and hadn’t even bought the popcorn. Something about losing some money somewhere…
Cordelia just stood there, having long since given up on her dress. She was uncomfortable at the tension in the room, until Joyce left her the third wheel, and decided that enough was enough. “Angel, I think I’ll just wait in the car.” She turned to leave but he caught her by the arm.
“Cordy, wait.”
“Why? I’m not gonna listen to you guys flinging testosterone around the room, and apparently, neither is your little former girl friend.” She indicated the space where Buffy had been standing, which was now empty. Then she headed for the car and was slightly annoyed that no one seemed to notice.
Spike started to go after Buffy, but Angel stopped him. He was not surprised when Spike flung off his restraining hand.
“Leggo’ me arm, ya’ Ponce. Why the hell can’t you just go and console your new girl while I try to make a life with your old one?”
Angel let go, but immediately drew back and slapped Spike on the side of the head. Hard.
Spike took it, but his eyes had gone gold. “Let’s just go on outside, like the lady asked. I don’t want your blood all over her kitchen, and besides, I need a smoke.”
Angel, silently fuming, followed Spike out to the back porch where he started down the steps but stopped as he noticed that Spike had sat down on the top step.
Spike smirked up at him, pausing to light a cigarette, as the larger vampire seated himself, his back against the support post. “Disappointed, Peaches?”
A long-suffering sigh. “About what?”
“That we aren’t going to fight.”
“I wasn’t going to fight you.”
“Maybe not. But only because you respect Buffy’s mum. Admit it. You’d like to tear my bleedin’ head clean off.” He sucked in, and then blew the smoke out into the evening air.
“You’re wrong, Spike. If you and Buffy are really going to be together, then we need to get along, in spite of the fact that tearing your head off would give me immense pleasure.”
Spike looked sharply at his ‘elder’. “It would?”
Angel grinned, at last. “No, actually, I’ve always wanted us to get along. But Angelus always stood in the way.”
Spike studied the cigarette in his hand. “That’s because Angelus is a mother fucking son of a bitch.”
Ok, thought Angel. Now that’s asking for it. And not quite true, either. But after a moment he said, “You’re completely correct.”
Spike chuckled, his thoughts, which had been taking a darker turn, lightened up a bit. “Now isn’t that a nice, soulful answer.”
“Spike, you just won’t let me be nice, will you? How did we both come to be here, anyway?”
This time Spike grinned broadly. “Because we both admired Buffy’s back porch?”
Angel grinned, and then laughed, himself. “Well, it is very nice, but that’s not quite what I meant.”
“I know what you’re getting at, and while we’re on the subject, it’s my back porch now, mate.” Spike flicked his spent cigarette out into the night, it’s smoke trailing behind it.
Angel noticed that Spike’s face was set, and as serious as he’d ever seen it. “And Drusilla?”
“A memory.”
“A threat…”
Spike looked him in the eye. “I’d kill her, if it came down to it.”
Angel studied his face. After a moment, he said, “I believe you. But get in line, because if she crosses my path again, I’ll probably have to do that myself.”
“Not queuing up for the deed, you pillock. But I would, if she ever came near Buffy again, I would kill her.”
“You really do love her, don’t you?”
“You should know.” Spike leaned back against the post on his side, unconsciously mimicking Angel’s pose opposite him.
Angel had one more concern, and it was a biggie. He would never stand in Buffy’s way, but Spike had the potential to be lethal again. A killer. With a deceptively casual look his way, he asked Spike. “So now that the chip is a thing of the past, how do you plan to control the hunger?”
Spike had hoped that he wouldn’t ask that question, but he should have known better. If he were in Angel’s shoes, he would have asked the same thing. Of course, if it were Angel, and his soul was gone, Spike would have staked him first, and asked the bloody question after, especially if Angel had slept with Buffy to end up that way again! He turned and faced his ‘grandsire’, and considered him for a bit. “I guess I’m gonna need some help with that.”
Angel smiled. “Good answer.” He got to his feet, and brushed the dust off of his pants, glad that none of it was Spike.
Spike sat where he was, looking up at the vampire who he’d hated, loved, and respected for over a hundred years. He smiled at the way Angel was slapping at his pant legs. The ponce. “I’ll take care of her, Angel.”
The taller vampire had started down the steps, and paused. He turned back and his eyes flashed gold as he spoke. “You’d better.”
“I love her.”
Angel noticed, with surprise, that Spike’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. He reached back up, put his hand on the blonde’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “I know.” Just as he knew that somehow, Spike was different from other vampires. It was a puzzle that he might never solve. Angel turned then, and walked slowly down the steps, knowing that it was for the last time. He was leaving his best girl in good hands. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he was certain of it.
Spike felt elation spread through him as he watched the dark vampire walk away, partly due to being on somewhat good terms with him for the first time in perhaps, their lives, but mostly because finally, at long last, everybody was out of the Summers’ house and he and his Slayer were alone, at last!
He yelled after Angel’s form as it disappeared around the corner of the house. “Oh! Angel! Tell Cordelia I’ll pay for the dress!”
Angel laughed, and waved back at him, pausing for a moment. “She’ll probably hold you to that!”
Then he was gone, and Spike heard the door slam, and the engine start.
When he heard the car start to pull away, he darted around to the front of the house and looked up at Buffy’s bedroom window.
As he’d thought, there she stood, peeping through the curtain, watching, as the taillights faded into the distance. “That’s right, Pet. Say goodbye. But if I have anything to say about it, you won’t even miss his bloody ass.”
He pulled out another cigarette, and went to his old ‘post’ by the tree. He pulled out his lighter, lit up, and leaned back, keeping an eye on the window upstairs.
He could see her pacing back and forth, and knew she was wondering why he didn’t just come back inside. She must be dying to know what they’d talked about and waiting for him to tell her all about it.
He debated just staying down here for about an hour to make her really sweat, but decided not to press his luck too far. Buffy hadn’t punched him in the nose in quite awhile now.
Besides. This was his last cigarette, and his own patience had worn thin. Suddenly he was more than eager to get back to Buffy. So why was he still standing here?
He bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time and was through the front door seconds later. Another minute after, which seemed like an eternity to Spike, he was standing in front of her bedroom door.
He lifted his hand to knock, and then, feeling silly, opened the door, letting it swing slowly into the room.
Buffy stood near the window once more. She had seen him, as he raced up to the porch and heard the door slam as he barely took the time to shut it. She turned and faced him.
She was changed somehow. Perhaps because he had Angel’s blessing, or what amounted to it.
He stood in the doorway, just drinking in the sight of her. She wore the same little black, fitted tank top and jeans that she’d had on all day long, but to him she was a vision in denim, standing there in the low light from a small bedside lamp. He was surprised that there wasn’t an aura around her face.
Now you’ve truly replaced the ‘Poof’, he thought to himself, but didn’t care one bit.
But he couldn’t seem to make the first move. He wanted so very badly for her to come to him, and he stood still, and waited.
Buffy stood unmoving, and just looked at Spike for a long moment. Then she slowly began to walk toward him, increasing her pace as she closed the distance between them.
When she reached him, she put her small hands on either side of his face and caressed it, as if she’d never really seen it before. She moved her fingers over his face and explored it, much as a blind person would.
Spike stood as still as a statue, needlessly holding his breath, afraid that at any moment she would disappear like a dream. He could count the times on one hand that she’d touched him in anything other than anger, and never had it felt quite like this.
Buffy wondered if she’d waited too long, teased and provoked him too many times, for him to trust her, and fully give his heart to her, undead or not, and the thought caused her to hesitate briefly.
Spike’s eyes had drifted shut as he relished the feel of her little fingers moving over his high cheekbones, but as she paused in her explorations, he heard a sound, like a little sigh, or a whimper, and when he opened his eyes and looked at her he realized that it had been he, and not she, who had made it.
He had waited a very long lifetime for this moment, and the thought of Buffy backing away from it was enough to cause him anguish of a kind he had never before experienced in either of his lives.
Not with Dru…and as he recalled the depths of his feelings for his Dark Princess, that was saying a lot. Especially the anguish part.
Nor with that childish bint, Harmony. Of course, that was a no-brainer. No pun intended, but true just the same. The only true anguish Harmony had ever caused him was in running her mouth until he wanted to stake himself.
And certainly not with the object of his human desire, Cecily, more than a lifetime before this. His memories of her carried only pain and sorrow, and the regrets of youth.
For a split second, it was as if his undead heart would break if Buffy withdrew her hand, and he would die on the spot. With a strangled cry, he crushed her to him and held her there in his embrace, for a long moment, and simply let them be.
Buffy understood. She marveled at the fact that she did, and her arms went round his body feeling the muscles in his back, at first taught as bowstrings, begin to relax.
And as he became less rigid, she could feel the tremors. It was a shock to realize that he was near to tears, and she became flustered at the thought of having to comfort him without striking a blow to his ‘big bad’ ego. Good Lord, she thought, nearly smiling. We can’t have that! She was saved from the dilemma by Spike, who suddenly pulled back just enough to look into her face.
“What’s with the ‘water works’, Slayer?” He smiled a bit shakily down at her.
Buffy just looked up at him uncomprehending, until she realized that she had tears in her own eyes, and as one of them escaped and rolled down her face, Spike stopped it with his finger just as it reached the corner of her mouth.
She froze, her arms still around him, her hands resting lightly on his back, as she watched him bring the damp fingertip up to his own mouth and lick it, slowly, as if it were nectar, his blue eyes, dark with desire, never leaving hers. She had never been so turned on in her life.
“Angel,” said Spike, abruptly and softly.
“Huh?” Buffy blinked.
Spike leaned down and took her mouth then, with something akin to violence, and was rewarded by her total cooperation.
After a few seconds, he was just trying to keep up.
She kissed him so hungrily that for a second he nearly forgot himself, and vamped. He clamped a lid on that part of himself just in time, because she wasn’t yet ready for it, and he wanted this moment to be perfect for her.
Besides…
He wanted her to ask him for that privilege, or even better, to beg him for it. He could wait.
He hoped!
She felt his shuddering as he fought for control of himself, misread it as a case of advanced lust, and propelled them backwards until the backs of her knees hit her unmade bed. She stopped kissing him long enough to eye the rumpled sheets. Good. One less obstacle.
Then she fell backwards onto the bed taking him down on top of her and resumed kissing the unlife out of him.
Spike was unsure, as yet, if she was serious and would finish what she’d started. About then, she put her legs up over his back and dug her heels into his jean clad ass, still kissing him and running her hands through his peroxide blonde locks until his hair lost every last bit of it’s borrowed gel.
Her satisfied mewl at the demise of the gel caused Spike to abandon any further misgivings, forget about being a gentleman, and forgo all pretense of holding his weight off of the tiny blonde.
He settled down on top of her and ground his growing erection into her as she spread her legs even further apart, and threw them over his back, her heels taking a walk all the way up to the back of his neck.
He stopped sucking on her tongue long enough to pull back and ask an important question. “So, Slayer. What’s wrong with this picture?”
Buffy trailed one foot back down to his ass and booted it gently, as her little pink tongue darted out and licked his earlobe. “Too much wardrobe?”
He grinned down at her. A situation that was about to be remedied. “That’s the important thing, yes. But what I was wondering is, where are your minions?”
He wouldn’t be too surprised to find Xander hiding in a closet videotaping the event so that he could show it to the rest of the Scoobies as he stood beside the screen and used one of those little pointers to show them all of Spike’s mistakes.
The thought was enough to make ‘little Spike’ pause, and shiver in response. He sent a mental message to his chum not to worry. There would be none of those kinds of mistakes.
Most likely, if anyone watched a video of his and Buffy’s first real shag together, it would be Xander, and it would be used as a tool to toss off to later, in private.
Buffy frowned up at him, clearly impatient with his musings. “If you’re oh so cryptic question referred to my friends and family, I got rid of them.”
“So, you finally offed the lot o’ them, eh?” He made a ‘smoochy’ face at her and grinned.
She laughed. A carefree and naughty laugh. He loved the sound of her laughter, especially when he caused it, and it wasn’t at his own expense.
“Very funny, Spike. No, we’re all alone right now, drat the luck. Whatever will we find to do to fill the time?” Stroking his ribs with her toes, she pulled him back down to her again, letting her legs fall back to the bed, still spread enough for his hips to fit between them.
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