Buffy spun around, fuming as she noticed Spike’s smirk. “Oh no,” she said, abhorred. “We are so not going to sleep together.”

“If you say so, Slayer.” Spike said seductively, the grin still in place.

Realizing her mistake, Buffy blushed furiously. “No! I mean, you know I didn’t mean that! I meant we are not going to share one bed.”

“So we are sleeping together, then?”

“NO!” Buffy cried. God, he was so obnoxious. She took a deep breath to let the rising anger inside her trickle away. “Listen,” she said. “I’m tired. I want to go to sleep. But not in this bed, with you. So either one of us is going to find another bed.”

Spike smiled deviously. He was just playing with her, getting on her nerves for the hell of it. But he couldn’t deny that the thought of that warm Slayer body against his own wasn’t pleasing. It was nothing new to him to think of her that way. Despite the mortal enemy thing they had going, he had always thought she was hot. And from the way they fought, he figured they would fuck the stars right out of heaven if they ever got half the chance. The only thing that was new was that he was now suddenly in the position where he was with her, not against her, and that seemed to open up a whole new realm of possibilities. It looked like she wasn’t ready yet to admit it though, he thought.

“Well,” he said, “Seems like you’re the one with the problem so you find yourself another bed. Don’t think you’ll find one, mind you, but then there’s always the floor.” Buffy glared at him.

“If looks could stake...” Spike muttered under his breath.

“What?” Buffy said sharply. Before she could go on a polite knock on the still half-opened door of their room interrupted their exchange. It was the innkeeper, carrying a single candle to light his way. The man turned to Spike and said, “Is everything as wished? Is vostra signora happy?”

Spike nodded, a smile playing upon his lips. “She’s very happy, I assure you.”

“What?” Buffy said again. “What are you saying to him?”

“I’m saying you’re happy with the room.”

“No I’m not!” Buffy blurted out. “I’m not!” she said to the innkeeper. “Spike, help me. Explain to him. We need another bed.”

“’Fraid you’re gonna have to try explain yourself, love,” the vampire replied smugly. “I don’t think he’ll understand. He thinks we’re a couple after all.”

“He thinks WHAT?? You told him we’re a couple??”

“It’s the Middle Ages Slayer. Think it’d be a bit suspicious us staying here together and not be married.” Spike shrugged, took off his velvet coat and stretched himself out on the bed. His lean, full-clad body took up almost three-quarters of the space.

“So you told him we were married...” Buffy said slowly.

Spike decided not to answer that. If she wanted to make a scene she could do it on her own. He was going to sleep. The innkeeper took Spike’s going to bed as a sign to leave. He smiled friendlily at the strange couple and closed the door. Buffy was still standing in the corner of the room. The blinds weren’t closed and the light of the almost full moon came pouring through the small window. It accented the outline of the vampire on the bed, the smooth curves of his shoulders, the shadows that his razor-sharp cheekbones threw on his cheeks. His hair had become more and more tousled during the day without the usual gel to keep it slicked down, and his long dark eye-lashes lay like satin upon his skin. He was a vision to behold, and Buffy sighed unwittingly while staring at him. It was a small stirring of the overall so completely still body that made her snap out of her reverie.

Buffy yawned and noticed how tired she really was. She tried to think of what to do now, but the rough wooden boards that made up the floor didn’t look very appealing a bed. At length she took a hesitant step forward towards the double bed, followed by a more resolute one. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Spike was still clothed, thank God for that, she thought, and if she kept on her dress there would be lots of inches of garment separating the two of them. A beat later she reset that thought. Okay, maybe there would only be one inch or so of fabric between them, but still. If she laid far enough to the right she didn’t even have to touch him.

A short moment later Buffy had closed the blinds and had tentatively lain down in the little space that was left in the bed. She was lying on the far right edge of it, trying frantically not to make any body contact with the vampire next to her. Her back turned to him, she had shut her eyes tight and did her best to fall asleep, but it was very hard. She could almost feel his presence behind her, even if she didn’t touch him, and he didn’t breathe. It made her try even harder to fall asleep, to keep her breathing under control, to not think of his hands and how wonderful it had felt when they had roamed her back earlier that day.

Spike wasn’t asleep yet. He kept his eyes closed but he could hear the tension in her breathing and the speeding up of her heartbeat. It had surprised him a little that she had given in so easily and had just gotten into bed, albeit lying as far away from him as was possible in the small space. Now though she seemed to have a hard time falling sleep. Their closeness was obviously affecting her. Spike briefly considered trying his luck and pulling her into an embrace, which he thought could be the beginning of quite the fun night. He felt himself grow hard at the mere thought of having her in his arms, all his and willing. But he knew it wouldn’t be like that. She’d never admit to herself that she actually wanted him, and in the worst-case scenario she might even stake him. No, better not, he thought to himself. Not yet.

After about a quarter of an hour of doing her best to relax on the edge of the bedstead, sleep finally seemed to close in on Buffy. Her breathing became slower, more regular and as her eyelids became heavier, suddenly staying on the edge didn’t matter that much anymore. Buffy sighed and rolled back to the middle of the bed a little, half asleep now, until she lay with her back against Spike’s chest. It was much more comfortable than her previous position, and within seconds she was fast asleep.

*
”Hmmm, Angel,” Buffy murmured. She snuggled up to the cool hard body next to hers. “Buffy,” he whispered back. Strong arms were wrapped around her and Buffy softly kissed her love. This was heaven, she thought. It was perfect. Angel kissed her back, his tongue pushing through her slightly parted lips, exploring her mouth first slowly and then more ferociously. She could feel the heat build at her core and moaned when a hand touched her thigh, sending shivers throughout her body as it moved up her leg in long strokes.

Spike woke up a little groggily as the Slayer snuggled up to him. Sunlight poured through the cracks of the blinds. It probably wouldn’t be long till dusk, for they had slept for quite a while. The feeling of two soft Slayer breasts pressed against his chest got Spike fully awake. “What the fuck?” he thought. Why in the world was she getting cuddly all of a sudden? “Buffy?” he whispered, a little confused and most definitely surprised. He studied the Slayer’s face and thought she might still be sleeping, but he discarded that possibility immediately when she firmly pressed her lips to his. Spike couldn’t believe his luck. He briefly wondered if she had gone insane overnight, but when he kissed her back and their tongues began the endless dance of passion, he didn’t bother wondering about her state of mind anymore. All that mattered was that she apparently wanted him. He wrapped his arms around the girl and pulled her close. Moving quickly, he pulled up her long skirt and slid his hand up her leg. She moaned, her eyes still closed.

Buffy closed her eyes and gave herself completely over to the sensations. A split second later, she knew something had changed. She opened her eyes again, but the feelings were overwhelming and made it hard to determine what was different. It seemed as if everything was foggy. The hand at her leg had now reached her panties. She moaned again, and suddenly she could see through the fog again. Angel wasn’t there anymore. He had changed into… Spike. Buffy knew this should be a sign that her wonderful dream had turned into a nightmare. She should wake up as soon as she could. But it didn’t feel nightmarish. It just felt incredibly good. And it was just a dream. “Buffy,” Spike groaned as her mouth left his lips and kissed his neck, his chest... Spike skillfully moved his hand inside her panties, dipping two fingers into the wetness between her lips. Buffy gasped and pushed against his hand. Her own hands started to roam downwards until they reached the bulge in his pants. The vampire groaned again, “oh, yes, Slayer…”

Slayer? It was as if ten alarm bells started ringing in her head all at once. “Wrong!” Buffy thought, resisting the pleasure that was ever building inside her. This was Spike. Enemy. Dream or no dream, this was not good and she had to wake up. NOW.

Buffy opened her eyes wide and screamed. Spike was slightly startled and pulled his hands back as the Slayer jumped off the bed, her eyes wild and cheeks still flushed from passion. “Oh no,” she was saying. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

“What?” Spike asked indignantly. It seemed like she really had gone insane.

“This is SO not happening,” Buffy said, smoothening the skirt of her dress. “I’m still dreaming. That has to be it. I’m still dreaming.” She did her best to convince herself.

“You were dreaming?”

“Yes. Oh my God, this is real.” Buffy felt her knees go weak and leaned against the wall. Oh no. She had been kissing Spike. Touching Spike. And he had been touching her. And it had felt… “NO!” she cut her thoughts short. This was gross. Spike. She knew she should’ve never gotten into that bed with him. And now her stupid dream turned out not be a dream and she could still taste his kiss and she had to get out of here as soon as possible! “That’s it,” Buffy said. “I’m getting out of here. Like now. I don’t have to stay with you. I don’t have to put up with your stupid nightly schedule.”

“You were dreaming?” Spike asked again, disbelieving.

“Yes. About Angel.”

The words hit Spike harder than he’d expected. So she’d been dreaming about the bloody poofter while getting it on with him? Bitch.

Buffy was surprised by the effect her words had. She saw the vampire flinch. It even seemed as if an expression of hurt flickered in his eyes, before they clouded again with the hate she knew so well. She turned on her heels, grabbed the package of her twentieth century clothing that lay beside the bed, and fled the room.

The door slammed behind her and he felt like calling after her, but he didn’t.

*
It was still day when Buffy ran out of the inn. Good, she thought. This way he couldn’t come after her. She shrugged off the ridiculous feeling inside her that kind of wished he could, and would, come after her, and took to the Roman streets.

A few hours, a quarter of a loaf of bread and a beer (“don’t they serve water or something?”) later, the sky began to darken. Buffy wondered if she should do the sensible thing and find some shelter for the night again. She should really get back to her usual day-night rhythm. It was a good thing she got rid of Spike and his annoying nightly life. “And I’ll find out how to get home myself, too,” she told herself. “I can do it.” Truth was, she had been wandering the city without any hope of figuring out the cryptic clue she and Spike had been handed in their dreams. It was much too vague. “I wish Giles were here,” Buffy sighed as she started crossing the nth piazza of the day. Then a luminous idea hit her.

“Of course!” she muttered. She stopped in the middle of the square by the sheer greatness of her thought. “The Watcher’s Council!”

Every Slayer had a Watcher. And Chosen Ones had been around since the dawn of mankind, Slayer lore told. So… “The Slayer,” she thought, as she continued her way. “There is a Slayer, and she has a Watcher, who, if he’s anything like Giles, can help me find my way home. And if he can’t help, there’s always the Watcher’s Council.” No matter how much Buffy disliked the stuffy Watcher’s Council back in her own time, now they seemed like a life beacon in a sea of hopelessness to her. “Great. Now I only have to find the Slayer in the whole wide world,” Buffy thought. Still, this was better than not having any idea whatsoever. Maybe she could hit the demon world of these days, and find out where the Slayer was from the nasties. Someone or something was bound to have heard of the Chosen One.

Buffy’s train of thought was interrupted by a pull on her arm. Slightly startled, she turned around. A small girl of about ten stood behind Buffy, her hand clasping Buffy’s sleeve. With reddish brown curls and freckles on her fair skin, the girl stood out among all the dark-haired and dark-eyed Romans. Her green eyes looked up at Buffy. Then she spoke, with a voice even smaller than her posture, words that Buffy didn’t understand.

“I don’t understand you.” Buffy said, gently freeing her sleeve from the girl’s hand.

The girl closed her eyes and muttered a few words that sounded different from the Italian Buffy had heard around her all day. Then the little one spoke again. “You seek the Slayer.”

Buffy was stunned, even more by the words the girl has spoken than by their meaning. It was crisp English. “What?”

“You understand me now, don’t you?” the girl said plainly.

“I, yes, I do, but—“

“Getha, no!” An old woman came running out of one of the houses surrounding the piazza. She was yelling at the girl, and to Buffy’s astonishment, the woman spoke English too.

“You speak English,” she stated the obvious, but the woman paid no attention to her. She flew at the girl and grabbed her arm roughly.

“Hey!” Buffy said. From up close she could see the woman probably wasn’t very old at all. She couldn’t be more than thirty. She just looked very tired and worried, and poor, too. Her clothes were mere rags and her brown hair ran in long greasy strands down her back. It was quite the contrast to the little girl, whose garments didn’t spell riches either, but weren’t completely worn out.

The woman now turned to Buffy. “I am so sorry, ma’am. She didn’t mean to, she isn’t a…” The woman seemed at a loss for words.

“Hey, no problem.” Buffy said. Gesturing to the girl, she added, “Frankly, I don’t know what she did wrong.”

The relief the woman radiated at these words was almost tangible. “So she didn’t… oh thank the Lord Almighty.” She looked heavenward and quickly made the sign of the cross. “Getha, inside, now.” She pushed the girl into the direction of the house.

“No, wait!” Buffy said. “She said something. It is very important to me.”

The woman stood still, eyeing her suspiciously. Getha looked up at the woman. “Mum, she is searching,” she said softly. The expression on her mother’s face hardened.

“I’m sure you are mistaken,” the woman said. “My daughter did no such thing.”

“Yes she did,” Buffy said, “she said something, and, and I couldn’t understand it. And then she did thing, this, like a spell, and suddenly she is speaking English.”

The woman’s eyes widened in shock and fear. “No…” she whispered, pushing the resisting Getha again. “Getha, I told you to never… don’t talk to strangers. Not like that. It’s dangerous, you know how dangerous it is dear. Let’s just—“

A loud scream made the woman froze mid sentence. “There is proof!” A man’s voice wailed. He too spoke English. Buffy figured the little girl must have done some kind of translating spell. “The Prizza’s girl is a witch! There is proof!”

His cries found company in an instant. All around the square, people came running out of their houses. “She is a witch child!” The man howled. Other accusations joined his until they came together in a chant of a mob that now came running towards Buffy, Getha and her mother. “Witches, witches, witches!”

Getha started crying. Buffy shoved her and her mother towards the street that lead out of the piazza. “Run!” she told them, “run and hide.“ Then she turned around to face the mob coming for the two women.

The two ran. Buffy fought. Kicking, punching, hitting, she threw them off. Men and woman, some of whom carried tools and kitchen utensils as weapons; she fought everyone who tried to follow the little witch Getha and her mother. Soon Buffy had driven the mob back, by either hitting them or scaring them with her strength. “Watch out!” A high-pitched woman’s voice cried. “She’s a witch too! She’ll kill us all!”

“Damn right I will!” Buffy growled, and her ferocity frightened herself. Here she was, fighting humans, for what, the third time since she got here? She wouldn’t really kill them of course, but if it hadn’t been for her self-control, her anger might have gotten the better of her and she would have. How dare they try and harm a small girl like Getha, only because she had some power?

“Ignorance, Buffy,” she told herself, “It’s just ignorance on their part.” But she still burned with rage. “Witch, witch, witch.” The crowd hurled the screams at her. She wondered for a second if that may have been what those highwaymen had yelled when she fought them on her first day in Rome. She figured it was her unusual strength that made them think she was witchy. Well good, she thought, as she threw off yet another stubborn guy who launched at her. It was weird having to fight humans. And she hadn’t even fought a single demon yet since she got here…

The crowd disbanded, scared and confused, and spread into several parts of the square. “I’ll tell the tribunal!” The man who had started it all yelled at her from a safe distance. “They’ll get you, witch!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buffy said, and then turned to go after Getha and her mom.

Four blocks up the road Buffy just about started to think she’d lost them and wouldn’t see the pair again when she heard Getha’s mother’s voice call her. The now complete arrival of night made it impossible for Buffy to see them, until they appeared from a small crack between two houses. It looked like they had barely fit in there.

“Ah, there you are.” Buffy said, relieved. “Thank God.”

“Thank you,” the woman said. “So much. I am Maria Prizza.” She put out her hand and Buffy shook it. “Buffy Summers.”

Next Maria took her daughters hand and said softly, “They were waiting for it. We knew we weren’t safe much longer. They knew, about… about Getha.”

“I know,” Buffy said, putting her hands on the woman’s thin shoulders. “Listen. You can’t stay here. They’ll come back for you.”

“Yes.” The Maria said. “You are right. We must leave immediately.”

“Do you have anywhere to go?” Buffy asked.

“I have some family in Naples. We will travel there and be safe with them.”

“Good.”

“We were supposed to go there. I. . . it’s been hard. Getha, she had two sisters. No brothers. The girls, they died, they were ill. And my husband, he died too.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said.

“It’s okay.” Maria replied. “It happened a while ago. Last year. It’s hard taking care of Getha, so my family, they were going to send for us, but had no money. So we would go on our own, but have not yet gone.” She shrugged. “Now we will just have to do it.”

“How far is Naples?” Buffy asked them.

“About two days of walking, maybe three.”

Buffy remembered the pouch of money she had stolen from the gatekeeper. She took it out and fished out a piece of gold. “Here,” she said, taking Maria’s hand and putting the money in it.

“No, we cannot—“

“Yes, you can.” Buffy said sternly. “You need it. Now go.”

Maria started to say thanks in a thousand words, but just then Buffy remembered what the little girl had said earlier. The cause of everything that had just come to pass. “No, wait!” she said quickly. “Getha, she said something. Getha?”

“Yes,” Getha said seriously. “You seek the Slayer. And... you have her power.”

Buffy nodded slowly. “You know of the Slayer.”

“I’ve heard tell of her. Tales on the wind,” Getha pointed at Buffy. “You are like her.”

“Yes.”

“She is across the mountains.”

“Across the mountains,” Buffy repeated. “Where across the mountains?”

“In a country in the north,” Getha said, “the country is torn.” Her expression became worried. “It’s very bad. Bad things are happening,” she paused for a moment, deep in thought. Then slowly, she added. “They will last very long.”

“What will?”

“The horror. There is horror there. And hate.” The girl sighed. “I don’t know anymore.”

It didn’t help a lot, but it was something, Buffy thought. At least she now knew she had to go up north, and to another country. Why could psychic messages never be exact, like give you an address or something? “Thank you. Now go, leave here.”

“Yes,” Maria said, “if we leave now, the gate is still open. We cannot thank you enough, Buffy. May God be with you and shine his light upon your path.”

“Uhm, yeah, thanks.” Buffy said. Religion, she’d never really get it. Although the crosses were very useful.

Maria and Getha turned to leave, hand in hand, when suddenly Getha stood still, as if listening to a sound only she could hear. Around them was silence. The girl looked worried again.

“Getha, what is it?” Maria said anxiously. “Are they coming again?”

Getha shook her head. “No... no. It’s your friend,” she said to Buffy.

“My... my friend?”

“The one that drinks blood.”

“Spike?” Buffy blurted out.

“He is in danger.”

A strong sense of uneasiness came over Buffy. She was suddenly very worried. Worried about Spike, it didn’t make any sense, but she couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him. Earlier she had been so eager to leave him, to be on her own, but even if she was alone, she at least knew there was someone else in this world, in this time, who knew where she came from and had to find his way back too. He was the only one she knew, the only thing she knew from her own time. The thought of being really alone in this world was choking. Also there was another feeling underlying her fear to be the only one left from the two of them. She simply didn’t want him to get hurt, let alone…

“Where is he?” Buffy asked, very alarmed.

The little girl stared ahead into the night. It seemed ages before she broke the heavy silence. “They want to bury him. He is in a place of death. Bones, skulls. . .” The child looked positively horrified.

“A place of death?” Buffy turned to Maria. “Please, help me. Where could that be? Do you know?”

“I’m not sure,” Maria mused. “It could be one of the cemeteries, or a crypt in one of the churches. I really don’t know.”

“But I have to know,” Buffy said. She knelt in front of Getha and clasped both the girl’s hands. “Please,” she said, “try to see, or umm, hear more. More specific. Can you do that? It’s extremely important that I know.”

The girl closed her eyes and concentrated, apparently struggling to find more information. “It’s a place from the olden days,” she finally said. “outside the walls. And…”

“And what?”

“St. Sebastian. He’s watching them.” The girl sighed. She seemed exhausted.

“St. Sebastian!” Maria exclaimed while Buffy got up again. “I don’t know where this place is, but I do think... St. Sebastian, there’s a church for him. It’s outside the walls, like she said, and it’s on an ancient road.

“I guess that’s my best bet then,” Buffy said. “How do I get there?”

“You follow this street to the walls and take the South East Gate out. It’s called Porta de San Sebastiano. The road is the Via Appia Antica. It’s a few miles. After a while you come upon the basilica.”

“Good, good, thank you.” Buffy said hastily, ready to take off. She was worried sick now. She had to find Spike before he could be... “Pray that I’m not too late.” She muttered.

“We will,” Maria said.