(Part 1)

    Spike hastily gathered the money the slayer had thrown at him, wiping at
the tears that burned his cheeks.  Then he ran, ran as fast as his superhuman
reflexes could take him.  He had to get away from her, away from her scorn
and contempt.  When he stopped his flight, he found himself in a less
traveled section of Sunnyhell.  Near the docks, it was.  A place people only
went during the day and only if absolutely necessary.  The forlorn streets
led to warehouses and shoddy storefronts and to the occasional liquor store.
In the midst of the squalor stood a small brick building with darkened
windows.  The glass was so spotless someone with a reflection could see
themselves in it, the landscaping of small shrubs and wildflowers was well
maintained.  In one of the windows a blue fluorescent sign burned.  Sera's
Haven.  He had been curious, never having seen the place before.  And he had
been around the docks, having once been one of the creatures that made it
such a fearsome territory.  'Sweet Satan below, please let this place be a
bar.'  And so the broken vampire stalked through the door with  Buffy's words
still repeating themselves in his mind.  'Not with you, Spike.  Never with
you.  You're beneath me.'  At first glance inside he saw the bountiful array
of liquor bottles and felt a shingle shred of peace.  He was going to get
smashed.  Going to forget what had just taken place, forget making an advance
on the Slayer, his enemy, his obsession.

    The place was new.  It was so new that it lacked the stench of liquor and
tobacco that always inhabited an establishment such as the one Spike was in.
The tables were spotless and shining, the wooden floor gleamed as if it had
just been waxed.  It was dark, the only light coming from short, fat candles
on the tables and soft lighting at the bar.  Sweet Home Alabama was pouring
from hidden speakers.  Not a soul was inside, save for a young woman sitting
at a corner booth with a novel in her hand.  Just the place to sit and listen
to classic rock and drink copious amounts of alcohol.  He took a seat at the
bar and lit a cigarette.  Moments passed and no one came to serve him.  He
glanced at the woman in the corner, not knowing if she worked there or not.
He waited another moment.  Still no barkeep.  His already frazzled nerves
were at their end, and not being a patient man in the least, he let his
temper blow.

    "What in the hell does it take to get a bloody beer in here?" he
bellowed.  The young girl in the corner put her book down and glared at him.

    "If you want it that badly get it yourself," her soft voice stated dryly.
"And if you make me a gin and tonic, Blondie, your drinks are free for the
rest of the night."

    He was taken aback.  It had been ages since anyone had dared to speak to
him in such a manner.  Besides the Scoobies, that was.  Not only that, but he
couldn't fathom a barkeep not keeping her bar and encouraging him to take
free drinks.  He stared at the woman, who in turn smirked at him.

    "I'm not joking, guy.  Fix me a good G&T and the bar is yours.  Get as
pissed as you want.  You look like you need a drink," she stated sassily.
The vampire glared at her and shook his head.

    "What the hell," he muttered, sliding off of his stool.  He stepped
behind the bar and poured himself a Guinness.  "What kind of gin do ya care
for, pet?" he asked with a nod in her direction.

    "Tanqueray, guy.  Thanks for asking."

    "The name's Spike," he stated offhandedly. "Lime?"

    She nodded an affirmative and left her table to approach the bar.  Spike
finished her beverage and slid it toward her.  "And there ya are, ducks."

    "The name's Sera."  She lifted her drink in toast.  "To booze, broken
hearts, and new friends."  She tapped his mug of beer and took a liberal gulp
of her gin while Spike looked at her incredulously.

    "How--"

    "'Tis my job to know, Spike.  Leave it at that.  Now drink your beer."

    The vampire returned to his stool as Sera settled herself next to him.

    "Very good beverage you made, Spike.  Got experience making drinks?"

    "Got a bit."  'A hundred years or so,' he smirked to himself.  Sera
smirked right back.

    "Care for a job?  Nine bucks an hour under the table, five hours a night,
four to five days a week."

    Spike looked about the empty tavern questioningly.  "Can you afford a
bartender, love?  No offense meant, but the place isn't exactly busy.  Looks
as if I'm the first person to set foot in this place other than you."  Sera
smile warmly at him.

    "The place isn't exactly open for business yet.  You are the first person
to set foot in here.  That's why I didn't serve you.  It's not my job.  It's
yours, should you choose to accept."  She gazed at the handsome vampire,
absorbing his piercing eyes, chiseled features.  "I think I'd enjoy your
company.  I already know I enjoy your drinks."

    Spike let himself take a good look at the woman propositioning him.  Sera
was right pretty, beautiful even.  She was average height, about 5'6 with a
nicely curvy frame--ample hips and bust, slightly rounded stomach.  Her flesh
was pale, almost as much as his own, but luminous.  The grey eyes she
regarded him with, lined with black kohl, were large, almond shaped--they
seemed to pierce right through him, while drawing him in to her.  But her
lips and hair were what really made him gaze at her.  A lush cupid's bow of
deep red smiled at the vampire, showing her gleaming white teeth while
thousands of braided locks of deep, dark indigo and silver-white fell over
her shoulders, straight down to her waist. Indeed she was a beauty.  He could
afford to spend time with such a woman.  And get paid for it, hell.  He'd be
crazy not to do so.

    "How 'bout I try my hand at it for a week or so.  Then we'll take a step
back and see how it's going," he suggested.

    Sera nodded.  "Wise choice, Spike.  Start tomorrow night?"

    "Ay, pet. I shall."

    "Then go on with you.  It's late, and you'll need your energy if you're
to work with me."

    Spike's jaw hit the floor. "But I've only just got my drink," he
protested.  Sera shook her head and motioned in front of him.  Five beer mugs
and an ashtray full of cigarette butts graced the table.

    "And I say you've had quite enough, my boy.  Good night"

    Disoriented, he left his stool and headed towards the door.  'I honestly
remember nothing but having the one beer, and a sip of it at that.'  He spun
around to take the scene in again, but, alas, nothing was there.  No mugs, no
ashtray, no Sera.  Just an empty bar, as spotless and sparkling as it had
been when he first walked in--he took a look at the clock on the wall--three
hours ago.  'I must be losing my fucking mind.'  Just as he walked out of the
building a thought hit him like a ton of bricks.  'And I didn't even throw a
fit over the Slayer.  Maybe this is just the place for me.  Maybe it can make
me forget.'  The vampire grinned as he lit a cigarette and headed toward his
crypt home.
 

~*~*~*~

    Sera sat on the roof of her Haven and watched Spike walk away.  "Your
plan has begun, my Masters and Mistresses.  I thank you for sending the
vampire to me," she whispered into the night wind.  "His heart has real
worth, despite the demon.  William the Bloody," she mused.  "He will help
lead us to victory."  Sera was answered by the gentle breeze caressing her
face.  "You will make us proud," the breeze sighed.  "You have done well,
faithful servant."  Sera touched her cheek lovingly and began her descent off
of the roof.  It was time to rest.
 

(Part 2)

    The slayer walked the streets of Sunnydale in deep contemplation.  Her
conversation with Spike disturbed her more than she could have imagined.
Indeed, the vampire always tried to piss her off, she knew that he got off on
that since he had little else to do.  But his words, his insistence that all
slayers had a death wish, even her, he couldn't shake the fear that they were
true to some point.  She had to admit that every now and then, she wished it
would just stop.  That there was no world that needed saving, that she could
have some shred of peace.  Deep down, Buffy knew that her peace would only
come with death.  She was the Chosen One, the Slayer, the one girl in all the
world.............yadda, yadda, yadda.  'This is just the way things have to
be, Buffster,' she told herself.  'It's what you were born for.'  It didn't
mean that she was about to lay her life down or anything.  There were evil
forces to fight, the Beastly Glory to kill, friends to hang with, and a
bleached, de-fanged vampire to torment.  Buffy shivered as she thought of the
last moments of the evening with Spike.  'Not you, Spike.  Never with
you...........'  All nemeses had a bit of tension, she supposed, but to have
him actually let it manifest in an attempt to kiss her, that was just ooky.
'Maybe I was too cruel.  Maybe I should tell Will--'

    Just as she thought about the redhead, she turned the corner onto Elm
St., colliding with a fellow pedestrian.  The force knocked her on her bum
and jarred her healing wound.  Groaning, she got back on her feet and went to
help--

    "Willow?  Oh, God, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed when she saw her best
friend sprawled on the ground.  Willow blew a lock of fiery hair out of her
eyes and grinned at Buffy.

    "It's o.k., Buff," she replied, letting the slayer help her up.  "I
wasn't paying much attention either."  She looked at her friend curiously.
"So, um, what are you doing out this late, miss thing?  I thought you were
supposed to be healing, hence the Scooby patrol this evening.  Which is why
I'm walking around the Hellmouth late at night.  But that doesn't explain
you're up and at 'em."

    Buffy looked away from Willow's all seeing green eyes.  "I had something
I had to do."

    "I thought Angel was the cryptic one," the witch replied dryly.  The
comment earned a glare from the blonde and she began walking again.  Willow
went along with her, studying her friend.  Buffy looked tired, haggard.  Dark
circles had formed around her eyes and her face was tight with tension.  Her
fall had disturbed  the stake wound in her stomach and she held her side as
they walked.

    "Buffy, you're my best friend," the witch began earnestly,"you can tell
me anything that's bothering you. Anything.  'Cause holding stuff in isn't of
the good.  You bottle and bottle and bottle and then all you're emotions run
out of room for storage and go--"

    "Spike tried to kiss me."

    "--kaboom," she finished, her eyes wide in surprise.  "Spike?  As in evil
blonde English vamp guy?"

    "One in the same."

    "I don't mean this the wrong way Buff, but is that all?  You look like
someone just kicked your puppy, if you had a puppy, that is.  An attempted
kiss from Spike doesn't seem to warrant such sorrow."

    Buffy shook her head.  "It isn't just that.  I spent the night at the
Bronze with him, Wills.  I wanted to know how he killed his slayers.  I
wanted to know what made them lose, what made him the better opponent.  He
just told me some stuff I kinda already knew," she whispered.  "I hate the
fact that Spike of all people, or non-people if you prefer, has such
insight."  She sighed and kicked at a stone on the sidewalk.  Looking ahead,
she spotted her house.  "Wanna come in?  Mom's got that coffee that you love
so much.  And we can talk some more.  We haven't been able to do that much
lately."  Buffy took Willow's hand and squeezed gently.  Willow squeezed back
and enveloped her friend in a warm hug.

    "I'd love to, pal.  Lead the way."
 

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