Title: Out Of My Head

Author: A.J. Hofacre

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Ever wonder how things might've gone if Spike HAD gotten the chip out in "Out of My Mind?" Well he's definitely chip free now... but that doesn't mean the bloodsucker isn't Buffy-whipped.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Feedback: is good. Is necessary. Makes the heart grow fonder. Makes chocolate extra tasty. And ends World Hunger. No, really.
 

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Part 7....
 

She had done a –very- stupid thing. She should've just stayed at home and looked after Mom and Dawn. And instead, she'd allowed her friends to drag her into another Bronze night. Why? Because they'd felt that she needed 'cheering up.'

Whatever.

They'd already had a Bronze night earlier that week, for Tara's birthday. It had been a very welcome diversion after the chaos that was Tara's family and a bunch of invisible Lei-Ach demons. And as if she didn't have enough problems, she was still sore from that fight she'd had with some big blonde slut who thought she was some sort of god.

Anyway, Spike had entered the training room, just as she was being attacked by two of them (she figured that his link to her had given him fair warning). But the spell Tara had used had clouded everything of supernatural origin from her eyes, so she hadn't even known he was there until the spell was reversed.

He'd actually managed to save her, and he'd even scared off Tara's family at their attempt to take her by going into Attack Vamp mode, snarling and going after them. Now that she thought about it, it really was quite funny watching Mr. MacLay turn tail and run from Spike, screaming like a little girl. True, Spike had said that he hadn't really cared, but she guessed that he'd wanted in when the Summers girls and Giles had looked like they were going to break some bones.

Bloodshed always reeled them in.

Later on, Spike had scented Tara... or at least that was what Buffy had told everyone. Actually, Tara had been happy enough by –not- being taken away that she had allowed Spike to gently bite down on her finger, to test her blood for any demon residue. Which, Buffy realized dumbly a minute later, that Spike could do. Obviously, Tara was demon free.

Having a vampire around really came in handy.

Anyway, that minor – MINOR – interaction with him was one of the only times that Buffy had spoken to him since the sweet, gentle, yummy Spike with evil, sharp teeth incident. <I have REALLY got to get a shorter name for that.> Otherwise, it was all business. And when she went patrolling, she always towed someone else along with her, in case she ran into him.

She just didn't trust herself alone around him.

She mentally snorted. <Would anyone?>

"Eve where air balloon and craft out jam crackers in Bali." Buffy jumped to attention, nearly knocking her untouched glass of Coke right off the table as she looked at Willow. She creased her brow, blankly trying to put together the words and hopefully comprehend the phrase she'd just heard.

"Wh... what?" Willow sighed.

"I said... oh, never mind." Buffy sighed. "Buffy, are you okay? You've been so out of it ever since you broke up with Riley. Are you regretting it?" Buffy's head shot up and she glared at her friend.

"Hell no! Breaking up with Riley was the smartest thing I've ever done. I swear, by the time I dumped him, I was so ready to just wrap my hands around his throat and strangle him till he turned black and blue," she muttered, completing the disturbing image with hand motions. She looked up at the silence and caught the wide-eyed gaze that both Tara and Willow were giving her. Buffy grinned sheepishly. "Uh... pretend you didn't hear that." Both girls nodded quickly.

"No problem," Willow mumbled, eyeing Buffy wearily and taking a sip of her tonic water.

The girl was gonna snap any day now.

"Whoo!" Xander bellowed, doing a little dance and spinning once before flopping down onto his seat. Anya, shaking her head, followed right behind him with a smile on her face. Xander wrapped an arm around her and tilted his head at the other three girls. "So what's up, guys? We've ceased to get our groove on tonight? Oooh, listen, they're playing that Sublime song on the speakers!" Buffy shrugged.

"Eh. I'm not really up to boogying down right now, Xander. But you all can go on, I don't mind." Xander pouted, Willow armed herself with a puppy dog look, complete with jutting lower lip, and Tara tilted her head at Buffy, biting her lower lip.

"Are you sure, Buffy? We can stay here and talk. The song's over anyway." Buffy smiled reassuringly at the blonde witch and nodded. <Poor Tara. She's still feeling bad about the birthday thing.>

"I'm okay, Tara. You can... go on." At that moment, Buffy had glanced at Xander and noticed, with alarm, that he was studying her a little too intently. Instantly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny, she asked, "Whaaaat?"

"Does this moodiness have anything to do with Riley?"

"No!"

'Well are you sure this thing with Spike hasn't made you paranoid or something?" He leaned closer. "Did he do anything, force himself on you so he could bite you?" It was quite convenient of Xander to completely forget that Riley had mentioned Buffy –not- resisting Spike. "Do we need to make with the poofing?" He pantomimed himself sticking a stake into Spike (although in this case, his hand was actually hitting the pizza in the plate in front of him). He pulled his hand back and grimaced, wiping it off. Buffy shook her head in frustration.

"Nooo. Guys, god, I didn't let Spike do anything to me that I didn't..." She stopped as soon as she realized she was about to let slip too much info. "I mean, I –let- him bite me. And I know he wasn't trying to hurt me. I know about the claim and everything." She sighed and put her head in her hands. "I just don't know why he claimed me." Xander shrugged.

"To control you?" Anya bounced in her seat excitedly.

"Because he likes her!"

Four heads shot up to stare at her in shock. Buffy's face paled.

""W-what?" she whispered. Anya realized that she'd said a Bad thing. Oh, for Christ's sake, she couldn't help it! It was hard being perceptive and learning to keep her mouth shut!

Fortunately enough for her, she'd spent a thousand plus years learning how to cover herself after unconventional means of vengeance.

"Well we were commenting on what could possibly make Spike want to claim you. Maybe he likes you. It's a possibility. But not a big one. Don't worry, Buffy. Xander's probably right. Spike probably just wants to control you so it'll be easier for him to kill you later." She smiled and crossed her legs, smoothing her skirt and grabbing on to Xander's arm. Buffy gaped at her.

Somehow, the thought wasn't all that comforting.

<Come my lady, come, come my lady
you're my butterfly, sugar, baby

come my lady, come, come my lady
you're my butterfly, sugar, baby>

Damn. She felt lonely.

Maybe she should've held on to Riley, just for... No. No, definitely not. Breaking up with that maggot was the best thing she'd ever done.

<Such a sexy, sexy, pretty little thing
fierce nipple pierce, you got me sprung with your tongue ring

And I ain't gonna lie, cuz you're lovin' gets me high
So to keep you by my side, there's nothin' that I won't try>

She hated him. HATED him. Okay, so maybe she didn't hate him, but she really, really didn't like him anymore. He didn't have what she needed. HE wasn't what she needed. She didn't need him. In fact, if anyone needed anyone, it was HIM who needed HER!

Well she didn't need him, didn't need anyone for a relationship, OR for some stupid dance. She'd danced by herself before. So fuck it. She'd dance by herself now.

<Butterflies in her eyes and the looks to kill
Time is passing and I'm asking could this be real?

Cuz I can't sleep, I can't hold still
The only thing I really know is she got sex appeal>

Standing up, Buffy was the walking definition of the well-written lyrics. Walking to the dance floor, she exuded an air of confidence that succeeded to turn heads, both male and female.

Okay, so it was the strappy blue halter-top and the tight black leather skirt that was grabbing most of the attention. So what?

Making her way to the center of the floor and closing her, she listened to the churning punk rock beat of the song. The music took over her body, and her hips began to gyrate, her waist beginning to twist, her arms rising above her head in a bewitching dance.

<I can feel too much is never enough
you're always there to lift me up when these times get rough

I was lost now I'm found
Ever since you've been around

You're the woman that I want so yo I'm puttin' it down
Come my lady, come, come my lady

You're my butterfly, sugar, baby
Come my lady, you're my pretty baby I'll make your legs shake, you make me go crazy>

Demoness.

That was what she was. She moved like a demon, fought like a demon, it'd only make sense that she be a demon.

She hadn't talked to him since that night at his crypt, and it was driving him insane. He didn't understand, couldn't understand... why had she run away?

He'd felt things he never thought he'd feel again. Things he hadn't felt since the last happy times he'd had with Dru.

<I don't deserve you unless it's some kinda hidden message
to show me life is precious

then I guess it's true

But to tell the truth I never really knew
till I met you>

That was it, he couldn't stand it. He had to touch the girl.

He chugged back the last of his imported beer and extinguished his cigarette in some preppy school boy's Coke, earning a resentful Look from the twit. Spike gave him a purely evil smirk, baring his fangs, and slammed the beer bottle down on the bar. Getting up in one lithe surge, he sauntered onto the floor.

<I was lost and confused, twisted and used up
knew a better life existed, but thought that I'd missed it

My life style's wild, I was livin' like a wild child
Trapped on a short leash paroled, the police files

So yo what's happening now?

I see the sun breaking, shinin' through dark clouds
And a vision of you, standing out in the crowds>

Heh. Was this the story of his unlife with Buffy, or what?

Yecch. The poor chit had a bunch of mangy frat boys slobbering all over her. One braved the seductress's dance and slid forward, putting a hand on her hip. Buffy made no move to bring herself closer, but Spike's demon still flared, and he growled gently to keep it from emerging altogether.

No one, but NO ONE, least of all some pussy-faced, pimple-popping little college kid who didn't know his dick from a twig, touched his girl.

The whole Big Bad attitude came out as he moved through the crowd, who parted instantly, like the Red Sea for Moses. When he arrived at the throng of dipshits surrounding Buffy, most of them moved out of the young man's way rather than attempting to pick a fight with him. He shook his head as he watched Buffy and the four remaining lugs enclosing her.

Really. What in the blue hell made these stupid gits think they even had a scrap of a chance with his Slayer?

<Come my lady, come, come my lady
You're my butterfly, sugar, baby

Come my lady, you're my pretty baby
I'll make your legs shake, you make me go crazy>

She could sense his presence behind her – had sensed it since she'd felt part of the claim twist around her. Her Spidey sense always seemed to be extra aware when Spike was around. Like it knew that Spike was a special one, a vampire to be held in higher regard than other vampires. She knew she should be slightly wigged at his proximity, but right now, she was having way too much fun to worry. So she thought nothing of it when two of her admirers went flying, and she pressed into him when Spike's cool, sensual hands wrapped around her waist.

Spike peered over Buffy's head at the college boys and smirked in victory, leading his hands up her body and cupping her breasts, squeezing them possessively. Buffy let out a low moan and pushed into him more, one arm wrapping around his neck. Spike ground his crotch into her ass, fully aware that she could feel every inch of him awakening, and truly not giving a flying fuck. The frat boys glowered and shoved off, knowing that the blonde girl had made her choice – she hadn't let either of –them- get that close to her.

Spike slid his hand under the Slayer's skimpy top and captured a rosy nipple, twisting and turning it, rubbing it until it ached. Buffy moaned again and threw her head back against his shoulder, hearing his ragged voice mutter in her ear, "Fuck, I want you." She replied by pressing into him, rubbing her ass up and down his cock with a powerful, dizzying friction.

He could see her skirt riding up her thighs, and oh GOD... if they weren't public right now, Buffy would be on the ground, riding something else. Spinning her around, Spike hoisted her into his arms, and she quickly hooked her legs around his, her fingers gripping the thick leather of his duster almost enough to bruise it. They were face to face now, hooded blue eyes meeting heavy green ones, both aroused, both proud and secure in their sexuality, neither giving a damn now about where they were.

Buffy began to move against him, the skirt sliding up around her hips. Spike quickly draped his duster over her, intent on keeping the view of her body from everyone else's view but his own. He let out a soft groan as he felt her crotch grind into his repeatedly, the wet spot on her panties burning a hole through his jeans and making his cock jump towards her. Her excitement was filling the room and Spike was dizzy from the scent of it. He was drowning.

<Hey, sugar mama, come and dance with me
the smartest thing you ever did was take a chance with me

whatever tickles your fancy
girl, it's me and you like Sid and Nancy>

Oh, god. Oh, god, he was gonna come. Fast. There was absolutely no friggin' way on earth that he could be here, dancing to this song, in this position with the Slayer, and –not- come. His balls were aching, and his cock felt like it was gonna explode. He could hear Buffy's harsh breathing in his ear as she ground into him, and knew that she was having a bit of the same problem.

His eyes focused on a droplet of sweat that appeared at the nape of her neck, and slid over her collarbone, moving down her chest, trickling down the very visible valley between those sweet, supple breasts...

His head darted forward, and his tongue traced the path, licking up the saltiness, sucking her skin momentarily. Buffy moaned softly, and arched up, the wetness of her panties once again coming in contact with Spike's throbbing crotch.

<So sexy... almost evil
talkin' 'bout butterflies in my head

I used to think that happy endings were only in the books I read
But you made me feel alive when I was almost dead>

Recognition of the lyrics flashed through both of their eyes, each understanding the implications of the words. A crooked smile crossed Buffy's face as she wrapped both arms around his neck, and Spike returned the smile, tugging her closer. God, he loved this girl.

Buffy was up against Spike enough so they could... um, "dance" comfortably, but she was low enough on him so that anyone who looked would think that they actually were dancing. Which was probably a good thing considering Xander, who very well may have had a heart attack lest he realized what his best friend and the evil vampire were actually doing.

As it was, the sight of them... um, "dancing" together was enough to freak him out.

"Holy Toledo! What in the sacred name of Zeus is that?" he yelped, nearly dropping Anya. The ex-demon turned, following her boyfriend's gaze. She grinned slightly.

Anya *really* liked it when she was right.

"It's Buffy. And Spike. They're dancing. We should dance, too." She tugged on his arm, trying to convince him of the sense in her words, and made a small noise of frustration when he pulled away.

"Dancing? Buffy's dancing with Spike? It doesn't LOOK like they're dancing! They look like they're about to eat each other alive, like they're going at it in the middle of the floor!" Anya grinned to herself; by the flushed looks on their faces, it seemed that was exactly what they were doing. But she couldn't tell that to Xander. He might go into cardiac arrest.

"Xander, take it easy. Buffy's been stressed lately with all this Riley stuff. Maybe she just wants to relax for one night. She's put the minor fact that Spike is an evil vampire to the side for tonight, and if she can, then so can you." Xander looked at her.

"But –"

"Xander..." Anya gently touched his shoulder, her voice softening. "Look at her." He did. "Does she look disgusted? Like she's gonna back away and stab him anytime soon?" Xander frowned and shook his head. He saw Spike lean in and whisper something to her, then gawked in surprise when Buffy actually laughed. Anya continued. "No, she doesn't. She looks happy for once, doesn't she?" Xander sighed and nodded.

"Yes..."

"Right. She's happy. So just leave them alone." She took his hand and pulled him close to finish the dance.

He really didn't want to. Leave them alone, that is. He looked toward the center of the floor again.

But as long as Buffy was happy.

<You filled that empty space with the love I used to chase
and as far as I can see, it don't get better than this

So, butterfly, here is a song, and it's sealed with a kiss
And a thank you miss>

"You know you're bloody well beautiful, don't you?" Buffy grinned.

"Pretty sure of it." She leaned in, burying her face in his neck, breathing in his scent. "Any particular reason for bringing it up?" Spike pulled her closer, kissing her neck. His hands cupped her ass, and his grinding became quicker, his breathing coming in shallow, erratic bursts.

"Just checking, luv." Buffy moaned blissfully, resting her cheek against his. She whimpered in his ear, then playfully licked his earlobe, sending shivers running up and down the vampire's spine. She paid for it when Spike slammed his pulsing bulge against her scantily clad clit.

Her fingers curled into his hair as she moaned, and she arched backwards, her head falling back, her hips thrusting against him blindly. Spike groaned and quickly unzipped his pants, knowing he was close and not particularly wanting to wash out any stains from his jeans later.

<Come my lady, come, come my lady
you're my butterfly, sugar, baby

come my lady, you're my pretty baby
I'll make you legs shake, you make me go crazy>

Buffy gave a long, pleasured sigh, her insides clenching and spasming as she approached her own release. When she did, she buried her face in Spike's neck and bit down gently, her blunt teeth not even close to penetrating his skin. Nevertheless, the feel of her teeth against his skin made instinct rear up. He lifted her hand, allowed his fangs to slid out, and gently bit into her wrist, suckling at her blood.

After a moment, he withdrew and placed a gentle kiss on the wounds. Buffy slid down, looking up at him with dazed eyes. She lifted a shaky hand and touched a finger to his lips, wiping off a smear of crimson. She sighed.

"You really have to stop doing that," she murmured. Spike gave her a small smile, discreetly zipping himself up with one hand. She hadn't even noticed he was free. Hah.

"Why?" She slid a finger down his chest and splayed her hand over his abdomen, rubbing his muscles gently.

"Because then I won't be held accountable for what I'd do to you."

He wasn't sure whether to curse the non-existent vampire refractory period, or thank the Powers That Be over and over for it. He tilted his head.

"Show me?" Buffy smiled.

"Maybe." She brushed past him to the bathroom, a mile-wide grin plastered on her face. Spike dipped his head, inhaling the heady scent of her orgasm, and he literally had to restrain himself from going in after her. His eyes followed the Slayer as she disappeared through the crowds. When she was out of his line of sight, he sighed and turned around. He had to wipe his hand off somewhere. Somebody's shirt was on the floor. Heh. Obviously, he and Buffy weren't the only ones getting busy during the song. Picking it up, he smeared the quick-drying goop on it, then threw it back on the ground. He looked back, over his shoulder toward Buffy.

And he smiled.

Buffy walked into the bathroom, fully unable to wipe the smile off of her face. Damn. If they had been *that* intense just grinding, would the earth explode if they actually had sex?

She went to the sink and turned on the tap, splashing the cold water on her face. Okay, make up was definitely finito. And it figured, she hadn't brought her bag to touch up.

Oh, well.

Her panties felt too slippery. She turned the tap off and ducked into a stall, shimmying her skirt up and squirming out of a very soaked white thong. She chuckled softly to herself as she cleaned up her little mess.

Holy crap.

The fact that it was Spike that was evoking these feelings in her was no longer an issue. The only thing that mattered was that he could. She hadn't felt so happy and so relaxed in such a long time and, once again, because of dancing and grinding? With Spike?

She was thinking that this was a big yay.

Should she curse the Powers, or thank them for getting her involved with Spike? Stupid mystical beings... they ALWAYS had to complicate things.

Buffy left the restroom, tossing the soiled panties into the trash. Another smile forced its way onto her face.

But complications always made things a lot more fun.

Heavy combat boots clomped into the room and Xander froze. Last night at the Bronze had been a step up for him in not picking on the evil, blood-sucking fiend (especially since the puppy had his chompers back – heh. Yeah). He'd held himself in check pretty well, even when Spike had joined them at their table at Buffy's behest. He had to admit, having the vampire there, even if his attention had been entirely focused on Buffy, had definitely lightened the mood. Xander had even engaged in some pleasant banter with him.

That didn't mean he was gonna officially be friends with him.

Anyway, there was only one person he knew that sounded like that when coming into the room, and he had to steel himself so as not to bitch, lest Buffy followed him in.

Surprisingly enough, the owner of the boots was Buffy.

Should he be wigged?

Damn. He'd forgotten that Buffy Anne Summers owned one of the world's most extensive collections of shoes, including eight different pairs of boots. The combat boots on her feet all-too-closely resembled Spike's. With a skin-tight white T-shirt emblazoned with the word 'hottie' on front with blue flames and a tight black skirt that reached mid-thigh, however, she was all Buffy.

Except for her apparent new love for all things restricting with a lack of room for circulation.

That and it seemed she was taking creepy fashion tips from Spike.

Really weird fashion tips. Xander suppressed his gag reflex as an involuntary picture of Spike walking around in Buffy's clothes with sunglasses on popped into his head.

How disturbing.

Maybe the claim was having more of an effect on the Slayer than they'd originally thought.

Xander stood up, his finger pointing at her. "Look. It's a cross between Madonna and Billy Idol!" Buffy's head jerked around, focusing on him, and he shrank back, wiggling his fingers sheepishly. "Please don't hurt me."

Buffy shook her head and turned away again, taking off her sunglasses. "Shut up. FYI, I just wanted to try something new. And I've had these clothes for, like, ever, so I figured I'd get some wear into them. Okay?" Xander held both hands up.

"Okay, okay, sorrrrrreeee." Buffy frowned, then shrugged.

"Whatever."

Whoa. Buffy was going back to pre-Slayer, Los Angeles Buffy days. Creepy.

Xander shivered.

"Hey, Xander, hey, Anya, hey, Buff-eee, whoa." Dawn bounced into the room, glancing over her sister's outfit. "Wow, look at you! All punk-ish and goth-y... now all you need is that dark make-up you always wore when you dated Angel, and you'd actually be cool." Buffy scowled at her sister, but a tiny smile was twitching at the corners of her mouth.

"What are you doing here? Did you follow me? Or did Willow teach you teleportation?" Willow's head poked out of the training room, and she waved meekly.

"No teaching of any things magic, Buffy, I swear. I was just coming here and Dawn was walking around, so I brought her with me." Buffy stilled, then looked at the Energy Blob.

"You told me you were going to Caitlyn's. Who, as I happen to recall, lives right down the street from us." She turned back to Willow. "Where was she walking?" The red-head froze up. She felt like her throat had globbed over.

"Um... um, she was... just around..." A sleek blonde eyebrow rose up, and Buffy looked wearily at her friend. That slut she'd encountered had been looking for the key. Dawn was the Key. What if this woman had found her? From what Buffy had seen of the chick, she had more strength than two Buffies put together. She grabbed Willow's arms.

"Where was she, Will?" Willow took one look at the Slayer and broke down.

"She... she was at Spike's cemetery with him. I'm sorry, so, so sorry!" Buffy felt relief wash over her immediately, and she looked down at the teen, who was glaring at the witch for her betrayal.

"You were with Spike?" she asked. Dawn turned to her and nodded meekly.

"Yeeessss..." Buffy smiled and nodded.

"Okay." She turned toward the training room.

Dawn blinked.

Willow gaped.

Xander choked.

Anya pretty much ignored them all.

The other three looked at each other, before Dawn raced after her sister, with the two Scoobies on her tail. Catching up to her, Dawn grabbed her shoulder.

"You mean, you don't mind that I was with him?" Buffy turned to her.

"No. I don't. Because I know you're safe with him." She turned to walk again, but spun back just as quickly. "But I AM a little miffed that you lied about where you were going." Dawn pouted.

"I'm sorry... I just really wanted to see him. He was so cool about what happened with Tara's family on Monday." Dawn paused, thinking for a moment. "I think I scared him when I showed up. Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Buffy laughed.

"For some reason, little girls have a way of unnerving big manly vampires. You saw how Angel wigged every time he saw you. Don't know why." She put a hand on Dawn's shoulder. "Okay, you're off the hook this time. Don't do it again... someone could... you might scare Mom." The two shared a meaningful look, and Dawn nodded.

"I gotcha. Thanks, Buffy." Buffy nodded, touching a lock of Dawn's hair.

"No problem." Dawn grinned giddily, then flounced off to somewhere in the store, most likely to bother Giles.

After a brief pause, Xander and Willow walked up to Buffy. Xander had his hand over his face.

"Did I just hear what I... thought I heard?" Buffy looked at him, unclasping her skirt to reveal workout shorts underneath.

"What would that be?" Xander glanced at her in disbelief.

"You? Saying that Dawn was *safe* with the Evil Dead? Are you nuts? He's got his fangs back! He could go after Dawn to get to you, and you're saying that she's SAFE with him?!" Buffy turned and glared at him, tying her hair up.

"Did you even see how he was with Dawn the day I broke up with Riley? He couldn't even believe that she liked him! And did you see her just now? Did you see any marks on her? Did you see her shaking, and crying, and, and scared to death?" Xander started to reply, but Buffy cut him off.

"No, you didn't. What, Xander, do you think I'm stupid? That Spike's claim on me has completely clouded my judgment of him? Because it hasn't. In fact, with the damn claim, I'm thinking more clearly than before. Dawn is fine with Spike! She didn't come back maimed or torn! He wouldn't hurt her, he wouldn't do anything cruel to her, and do you know why? Because he cares about her. I know he wouldn't. I trust him."

Xander's jaw fell open and he stared at Buffy in shock. Willow's eyebrows had risen up on her forehead, and she was just watching the two. Buffy turned away, more stunned than the others were at her own words. But as she slid her boots off and taped her hands up, she knew the truth, and repeated it with more resolve. She had confidence in him.

"I trust him."

 

TBC...

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Part 8...
 

"I think I've stepped into some weird, freaky, parallel dimension or something. Did she really say that she trusted him?" Xander asked, his eyebrows raised, his face holding a look nothing short of confusion. Willow nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, Xander. She did. A-And please don't go all... um, Psycho on me, but... I think she likes him." She winced when Xander whirled to face her, and put her hands up protectively. "Hey, I said no Psycho! Believe me, I don't understand it, but I think she likes him, and I think he more than likes her, too." Xander snorted.

"So, what are you saying, Wills? That a chipless, soulless, evil vampire is in love with Buffy?"

Willow bit her lower lip. Xander's eyes closed and he grabbed at his stomach, trying to avoid his sudden bout of nausea.

"Oh, god."

He ran for the door to the cellar, intent on crashing right into the bathroom. Willow waved her hand at his back apologetically.

"Sorry!" she called.

The door slammed open upstairs, echoing off the walls. Dammit; he really had to get a secure bolt for that damn thing. As if it hadn't been startling enough to finish the work on his shower and walk upstairs, then get scared out of his wits when he found Bitty waiting for him that morning.

He growled and put down the hammer he'd found at the dump, opting to carry his chisel with him. It wasn't a railroad spike – that hadn't been his signature for 95 years – but it would do for now. He sniffed, testing the air around him, but the must and stone dust had thickened the air so much, he couldn't even tell which nostril was where. So, holding the chisel at his side, he climbed up the ladder.

Damn. The must had drifted all the way to the upper level. He looked around.

"Who's here? Show y'self." There was absolutely no response. "I swear, I find you, they'll be diggin' you up a millenia! Y'hear me? Get your ass out here!"

Still no response.

Then Spike dropped the chisel, letting out a small gasp and wincing in pain. He looked down slowly.

... and saw one big ass stake protruding from his shoulder; just above his lung, and, thankfully, way off from his heart. A revolting scent drifted up from the wood, and the recognition flared instantly. He growled dangerously.

Soldier Boy.

He turned slowly, being extra careful in case the dick aimed again and got a good shot in this time. A feral smile curled his lips and he yanked the stake out, ignoring the pain as well as the gaping hole that was bleeding uncontrollably.

"Well, well. Look who got himself a pair of balls," he drawled, tilting his head. Riley took Spike's words as his cue to step forward, and did so, armed with a crossbow.

"Wish I could say it was good to see you, Spike. But then, it never really is good to see you, is it?" the boy said, drawing himself up straight. Spike raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, come now. Don't be so harsh, boy." He jutted out his lower lip at the mortal. "You just might hurt my feelings with those witty barbs." Spike sighed and hooked his thumb in the front of his jeans. "So... what, now? You're here to fight for Buffy's honor or somethin'? Cuz I think you're about ten or twelve centuries too late to apply for the chivalrous knight role." Riley inched closer, grasping his taser with his free hand. He looked completely calm and determined, but Spike could hear the git's heart beating off the charts.

"Shut up, Spike. I'm not here for the small talk. I know you've done something to Buffy. Yeah, you claimed her – I know about it, the whole gang does. But you didn't just claim her, did you? You put some sort of spell on her, a spell to cloud her judgment. You're a real piece of work, you know that, Spike?" Spike smiled proudly, straightening.

"Hey, glad you noticed, mate!" He stretched (carefully; that stake wound hurt like a bitch right now), arching his lean, toned body. He glanced down, appraising himself. "I –am- pretty, ain't I?" Riley's disgusted gaze never wavered.

"Yeah, Spike. You're pretty. A pretty big pain in the ass. Stay away from Buffy or I swear to God, I'll use this," he ground out, holding the crossbow up. Spike smiled, his face shifting into his demon visage.

"You... do remember that your little metal tinker-toy isn't in my head anymore, right? An' that means I can kill you. Do you even know what you're up against, mate? I'm not afraid of you." Spike advanced on the boy, his white, white teeth glistening. "Not in the least."

Without warning, his foot shot out and knocked the crossbow and the taser out of Riley's grasp.

"'S not brave fighting with weapons. You think you're such a man? Then fight me with your fists, pillock." Riley stared at him stonily, then nodded, getting into a rather amateurish fighting position.

"Fine. Let's fight."

Spike growled, an insane grin appearing on his face, and he launched himself at Farmboy.

"Ungh!"

Left foot down, right foot in the air. Jump kick. Right foot down, left in the air, this time. Roundhouse. Right hook, left uppercut. Circle around, right jab, left jab, right, right, right, left, right, spin kick.

The punching bag flew off of its hook and hit the ground with a thud, the bag splitting open on its side. Buffy's eyes widened and she winced.

"Oopsie. Sorry, Giles."

Giles sighed and stood up from his place in the corner, walking over to her. He put a warm, fatherly hand on her shoulder.

"It's all right, Buffy. I'm sure Xander and I can manage to fix it." They looked down at the bag simultaneously. The sand inside had poured out of the split cloth, and it looked like someone had massacred the Sandman. Giles sighed again, then looked at Buffy. "Any unreleased aggression I should be warned about?" Buffy grinned up at him.

"Just a tiny bit," she said. Giles nodded.

"Care to explain why?" She peered up at him for a moment, then shrugged.

"Just a tad annoyed at Xander." A faint smile donned the Watcher's face.

"Ah, yes... I'm all too familiar with that feeling, unfortunately," he said. Buffy gave him a slight smile, pushing him playfully.

"Well, yeah, but that's different. Cuz he's been an annoyance to you ever since you met him. This is kinda new for me. Xander's suddenly decided that Buffy needs psychiatric help. Just because I've decided to trust Spike." Giles' eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I... er... you have?" Buffy glanced at the baffled Watcher, then groaned at the look on his face.

"Oh, no... no, no, no... Giles, please don't get on my case about this. I have a century's worth of criticism from Xander as it is!" Giles shook his head quickly.

"No, Buffy, I, uh... there is no 'getting on your case.' I-I'm just a tad surprised. What's the reason for this?" The Slayer shrugged.

"I... I don't know. It's just a feeling. Like you said, no Slayer had ever been claimed by a master vampire before. So the results are all up in the air. Well, I think this is one of those results. Something's, like... poking at me, telling me that it's safe with him. That he'd never hurt me, or... or Dawn, or any of us. Well, except maybe Xander. Xander irks Spike just as much as Spike irks Xander. But... yeah. It's something I can just... sense, y'know?" Giles nodded.

"I see... Buffy, I'd like to get you and Spike in the same room together. This is a unique opportunity, and I want to record the full extent of response on your part to Spike's claim in my journal. But, er... Buffy?" She looked up, a sudden queasy feeling pricking at her stomach.

"Yes?" she asked. Giles eyes her.

"Have you reciprocated the claim?" Buffy shook her head and hid a wince. The queasiness was intensifying rapidly, and now it was starting to hurt. Something was wrong.

Spike.

"At first, I-I didn't realize that I had to, cuz I didn't know he'd done it when he bit me the first time. I figured it out when he bit me again. But no, I haven't... um... traded bities with him." Giles frowned, and suddenly Buffy really didn't like the expression on his face. "What?"

Giles drew a deep breath. "In order to see the effect of a claim on a Slayer and a master vampire, I... I believe you may have to..." He stopped when he looked at her and noticed the considerably pale look on her face. Her hands were clutched to her stomach, fingers digging into the material of her top. "Buffy?" he queried, alarmed.

At first, Buffy didn't respond, her face contorting in pain from the pangs in her stomach. Then she scrutinized Giles. "Something's wrong," she mumbled. Giles noticed that despite the immense look of pain on her face, her voice was still strong and clear. Abruptly, she turned and grabbed her skirt, pulling it up around her legs. She slid her feet into her boots and started for the door. "Something is -really- wrong, Giles."

He hurried after her as she ran out, the bell above the door chiming loudly to signal her departure. He lunged for the door, ignoring the confused looks that Anya and the others gave him.

"Buffy!" he called.

Buffy kept running.

"That all you got, White Bread? Come on, now. Give it to me," Spike growled, motioning Riley closer. The boy, bruised and bloody with a swollen eye, complied, aiming a punch at Spike's injured shoulder. Spike easily deflected it, but punched back with the same arm, forgetting himself. He made contact, capping Riley right in the jaw, but he'd stretched his arm out too far. He'd already lost quite a bit of blood from the wound, but it had started to heal during the scuffle. Now, the skin had broken once again, and blood began pouring out, more copiously than before. He let out a weak cry and clasped his arm, closing his eyes in pain. He cursed at himself. < I couldn'ta waited till it was healed, could I? >

Riley saw Spike falter from the wound and took advantage, getting up and plowing his foot into Spike's stomach. At the vampire's gasping wheeze, Riley felt encouraged, and began kicking him repetitively.

Spike closed his eyes as the steel toe of Riley's boot once again connected with his midsection. He felt himself being rolled over, and then he felt nothing but absolute agony as Riley's foot slammed down on his shoulder wound, making the blood spurt out even more. A kick to his head – yet another injury turned bloody. He wrapped his arms around his waist and attempted to curl into a fetal position, but Riley shattered his effort.

Why wasn't he fighting back? He could easily destroy this shithead, in the blink of an eye, yet here he was, lying on the ground and praying for the pain to stop.

It didn't occur to him exactly how bad the stake wound was, or how much blood he'd actually lost. It wouldn't kill him, but as of now, he was incapacitated.

Oh, god, he was gonna die.

Buffy raced along the streets, stumbling every so often on a dislodged piece of sidewalk or an ousted tree root. The pain in her stomach was getting stronger and more tormenting with each step she took. She was about twenty feet away from the entrance to the cemetery, and another fifteen from Spike's crypt.

Would the pain kill her before she made it?

Buffy let out a loud cry as a particularly sharp jolt occurred right below her ribs, just above her stomach. She stumbled against a tree, holding on tightly until the pain started to dissipate. Ow, ow, ow, what the hell was that? Was this part of the claim? And was it normal for a claim to go this deep?

Either way, she definitely knew something was wrong with Spike now.

Scrambling against the tree trunk, her head beginning to throb, she fairly shot towards the crypt, thanking someone up there for the preternatural speed given to Slayers.

She was gasping for breath from several more abdominal attacks when she got to the door of the crypt, and when she saw what was happening, she lost air altogether.

Spike. On the floor. Being kicked repeatedly by Riley. Blood all over his body. A dislocated shoulder by the looks of it. And a...

Holy shit.

Stake wound. Stake wound in very close proximity to his heart. Left shoulder. Bad, bad, BAD!

"Spike," she mumbled. She limped forward; god, it was horrifying to think that Riley, of all people, was capable of something like this. Why hadn't Spike fought him back? From the look of Riley's face, Spike had really laid into him, but she wasn't used to seeing Spike down on the ground, getting the absolute shit beat out of him. Well, unless it was her that was doing the beating. Her gaze narrowed on him again, and suddenly it clicked – he'd lost blood from the laceration. Her heart twisted painfully, and her eyes drifted down his face. His eyes were open, and he was squinting at her weakly; she deduced that he'd heard her whisper his name.

She looked up sharply when she saw Riley reach for a stake. Her eyes widened.

"No.... no, no, no, Spike!" she cried out, pushing forward and grabbing Riley by the back of his shirt, then flinging him effortlessly into the wall. He groaned with pain at the impact, then let out a yell as Buffy grabbed him around the neck, slamming him into it again.

"You idiot. You stupid, fucking, moronic idiot. Maybe you didn't get it the first time I said it. I'm pretty sure I told you to stay the hell away from Spike. Now, why could you not comprehend that?" she asked, her grip squeezing around his neck. Riley wheezed and coughed, trying to answer, but nothing came out.

A backhand from Buffy got at least one noise out of him.

"I've given you plenty of fucking chances to get out with your dick intact, Riley, but you don't get it. You just don't fucking get it!" Her knee came up and delivered a painful kick directly between his legs. Riley's eyes widened and he emitted an agonized groan, doubling over onto his knees.

"Buffy?" he choked out. Buffy glared down at him, then grabbed him up, dragging him out the door.

"I want nothing to do with you. Ever again. I don't know you. If I ever find you even two hundred feet near Spike, I'll rip your damn head off and shove it up your ass." She shoved him out into the graveyard. "Get out of Sunnydale."

Riley looked up, desperate to plead his case, but was faced with a closed door.

Buffy turned and strode quickly to Spike's side, struggling to pull him up without jarring either of his arms. Wrapping her own arms around his waist, she stood him up and tugged him gently to the sarcophagus. Looking around for some sort of cushioning, she discovered a pillow stashed haphazardly into the corner. Grabbing it, she placed it on the stone, then gently laid Spike's head down on it.

She sat down next to him and gazed at him as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Buffy reached out her hand, touching his face with her nimble little fingers. Spike gave a soft purr and leaned into her touch, his eyes shutting. Her hand moved up, stroking his soft, white-blond curls.

"God, what did he do to you?" she whispered. Spike coughed softly, then turned his head to nuzzle her hand. Considering the pain that was ripping up and down his arms and chest, this felt really good.

"You know. You can see." Buffy frowned and he looked up at her. "I'm fine, pet. I'm not as off as I look. Quick healin' an' such, though I'm kinda surprised. That bastard did a number on me." Buffy looked to his shoulder.

"He tried to stake you," she murmured. Spike yawned slightly.

"Operative word bein' 'tried.' As you can see, I'm still here." She managed a tiny smile, then leaned down, resting her forehead against his.

"I'm so sorry, Spike. I really am."

"An' if I could move my arms, I'd show you that there's nothin' for you to be sorry about. It was my fault, I baited the little shit an' told him to fight without his toys. Don't know why it actually sunk into that peanut brittle brain of his," he replied, nuzzling her cheek. This time, Buffy's smile wasn't forced. Especially with him rubbing his face against her like a cat. It was cute.

"But other than the stake wound and the shoulder thing, you're fine?" He pulled away and cut off his happy sounds, grinning.

"Peachy, pet. Just a little winded. Did that great big nit play football or something?" She raised her eyebrows, ignoring his question.

"And I suppose now you'll tell me that since my ex did this to you, I should play nursemaid?" The grin widened.

"Well... I wasn't gonna say as such, but... Hmm. You, struttin' about in a nurse's duds, playing servant girl to my every whim?" Buffy scrunched up her nose, swatting his chest. "Oi, watch it, luv! Walkin' wounded here!" Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Okay, Mr. Walking Wounded. I'm gonna close the door. Just lay back and relax. It'd be beyond bad if a demon walked by and found out that William the Bloody is temporarily down for the count," she said. Spike glared at her, emitting a warning growl low in his throat, then shifted from 120 year old vampire to a five year old child, sticking his tongue out at her. Buffy laughed and shook her head, standing up, walking to the door and pulling it closed. She looked back at him, biting her lower lip.

"Do you want some blood?" she asked tentatively, preparing to pull the shirt away from her neck. But Spike apparently had no idea what she was saying.

"Get me the type O pack, it's behind the jar and under the AB," he called, surprising her. He didn't want to drink from her? Okay, weird... Wouldn't her blood help him heal faster?

Okay, even weirder. She wanted him to bite her. Again.

Shrugging it off, she ambled to the mini-fridge, getting out the abnormally large packet of blood. And she couldn't really help it – she was curious about what Spike really kept in there – she snooped through the contents of the fridge.

Not much to go on. Three water bottles in the back. The large jar of the more abundant pig's blood that Spike got at the butcher's. The very rare bags of human blood Spike got as special treats for himself. A couple of bottles of beer, and finally, a half-full plate of buffalo wings, spicy barbecue sauce congealed on top, that he'd most likely taken from the Bronze. The big thief.

Hesitating, she reached in and grabbed a bottle of water, then took it and the blood baggie over to the tomb. Sitting down again, Buffy gently helped him up and handed him the packet.

"Drink up. I'll have to clean up that stake wound..." she bent her head to look at his other arm and tugged on it gently, wincing when Spike roared in pain. "Sorry, sorry... Okay, relocation is necessary now." Spike shot her a 'duh' glare before his face shifted. Raising his eyes to look at her (which was a bit difficult with his brow ridges dipping over them), he bit into the baggie with relish, happily milking the blood inside for all it was worth.

"This 'nursemaid' stint is already goin' to your head, innit?" he asked in amusement. Buffy glared at him and shoved him on to his back, grabbing the bag away and tossing it on the floor. Grasping his shirt at the collar, she jerked, tearing it right down the center and making him jump. He looked up at her with a truly patronizing grin on his face.

"Damn, Slayer, if you wanted to see me shirtless—" She gave him a warning glare, her hand hovering dangerously over the big hole in his shoulder.

"Shut up, Spike. All I'm doing is cleaning this up. That's it."

He sighed, looking at her. "Get the whiskey, then. It'll clean up better'n the water would." She nodded, then ran to find it, digging around Spike's various... things – all of which had been found at the junkyard or dump, no doubt.

When she did find the whiskey bottle, she strode back over to him and tore a bit off of his T-shirt, dousing it with the cool liquid.

"Hold on to my arm or something, cuz this is gonna sting like major hell," she murmured, lowering the cloth to the raw, bleeding injury. Spike grunted in response, but grabbed onto her with the arm anyway.

"Y'think I don't know that?"

Buffy grimaced slightly as the scent of the liquor wafted up, permeating her senses. She tried to ignore it, instead trying to focus on cleaning him up. "Shut up, Spike."

She pulled him toward her in a half-hug, barely noticing Spike's wince when the cloth and the fiery liquid came in contact with his skin. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his head onto her shoulder, jerking slightly as the drops of liquor seeped into the gash. When Buffy pulled the rag away and squirted some water on it, then replaced it on his shoulder, he sighed with relief. The sting of the whiskey was taken away instantly as cool relief replaced it.

Buffy gently pulled away from him, then ripped off another piece, using it as a gauze for the wound. < Behold. The many uses of just one of Spike's black shirts. > She squirmed over him until she sat on his other side, then handed him the whiskey bottle. "Drink," was all she said and Spike, though curious, obediently lifted the bottle and gulped down the burning liquid. She lifted her head to look at him. "Do you have anything here, something to use, some wood?"

Spike's scarred eyebrow went up. He grinned.

Buffy instantly scowled, rolling her eyes. "You know what I mean! Is there something here to bite down on? You know, so you don't bust your teeth when I pop your shoulder back in? Something to distract you?" Spike pondered it, then observed her.

"What about you?" he asked, trailing a hand down her arm. "I'm sure you could... easily provide somethin' to..." he quirked his lips, adding a mischievous wiggle of his eyebrows, "occupy my interest."

Against her better judgment, a smile cracked her lips. "And what am I supposed to do exactly?" Spike regarded her innocently.

"You can think of somethin'."

Buffy smirked at him and got up, pulling the rest of his shirt off and shoving it in his mouth. The vampire grunted, scowling at her to show what he thought of her little solution, but nonetheless placed a hand on her shoulder. Buffy braced her hand on his chest and grabbed his injured arm with her other hand. She peered at him.

"You ready?" Before he could answer, she jerked his arm, hearing the bones grind and shift before a loud pop signaled that the joint was back in place. Spike's howl of displeasure resonated through the crypt, and he ripped the shirt out of his mouth with his free hand, seething.

"You bloody great bitch! That fuckin' hurt!" he yowled. She bit her lip, crawling over to him and touching his cheek gently.

"I'm sorry, I had to do that! But hey, at least it's back in place now. You aren't walking around, waving a ripped off arm in your other hand." Spike narrowed his eyes at her words.

"Don't you start, little girl. My arm may be all fucked up, but I can still knock you down to your knees!"

Buffy grinned at said her next words before she could stop herself. "Don't have to knock me down to get me on my knees," she said mischievously. When she realized the words that had fallen from her lips, her hand flew up and clapped down over her mouth, her face turning bright red in anguish. Spike's eyebrows went up and he grinned. Reaching out his arm, he tugged the girl into his lap, wrapping his left arm around her waist and pulling her close.

"Really, pet? Is that so?" He tilted his head down and began kissing her neck. She whimpered and attempted to pull away, thoroughly embarrassed by her big fat mouth. "Care to show me?" he asked, then lunged for her, his lips suctioned firmly over his bite marks. Teasingly, he began to suck slowly and sensually as he slid his hand over her thigh, across her ass, up her back. Buffy moaned softly at the sensation and turned in Spike's arms, straddling his lap. Moving both hands to her ass, he guided her hips in a gentle rock against his. Pulling his mouth away, he lifted his hand to touch her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her lower lip when she looked at him.

Buffy automatically stopped her movements, tilting her head as she gazed at him. And dammit, she'd just looked in his eyes again. She had to stop doing that. Spike's eyes could do the same thing as a thrall just by glancing at someone.

Not that he didn't already have her under his little spell. Smug, gorgeous bastard.

Why couldn't she do the hypno-thingy with him? He seemed to be just as enthralled with her as she was with him, so how come HypnoEye didn't work for her?

Oh, well.

A tiny smile crossed her face and she leaned in, pressing her lips gently to his. She couldn't resist. His soft pink mouth, with the full, pouty lower lip looked too yummy to ignore, and god she just wanted to suck on that lip! He drove her crazy when he pouted at her – half the time she was trying to resist from pouncing on him right in the middle of a conversation, just to make out with him.

Soft, pink, pouty lower lips on tall, pale, Gothic, yet incredibly hot vampires were a dangerous combination.

Spike smiled under her mouth and tugged her closer, kissing her back feverishly. Such a little vixen. Truth to tell, he hadn't expected that kiss. He'd figured she was still a little embarrassed about her little 'down on my knees' slip. The genuine affection he'd seen in her eyes and on her face when she'd smiled at him had startled him in the best way. Was she falling for him?

"Oh, luv," he murmured softly, his fist running through her hair and convulsively clutching at the blonde locks, his lips nibbling and seeking something from hers with soft, sweet, chaste kisses. Her hands moved up and cupped either side of his face, drawing him closer to her, to feel his lips against hers even more. And finally, when she had to breathe, she pulled away and rested her head in the crook of his neck, her nose nudging the strong muscles in his throat.

His eyes closed and he buried his face in her hair, breathing in the sweet lavender scent decorating the tresses. Actually, it'd be better to stop doing that. The scent was having a positive effect on him in the most physical sense, and this was a bit of a tender moment. He was NOT gonna ruin it.

His arms closed tightly around her, hugging her close. Buffy breathed softly, running her fingers up and down the hard, corded muscles in his back. "Spike," she sighed, snuggling contentedly against him.

Holy crap. She was happy. Jesus H. Christ... how many times had that not happened to her in the past five years?

Spike looked down at the tiny woman in his arms in surprise. Damn. If she was anymore relaxed, she'd be purring in pleasure. Which wasn't that bad of a thought... The Slayer purring at him was one really good thought that could lead to the beginning of one helluva fun night... < NO! Stop it, you git! Romantic moment an' all that! Don't you fuckin' ruin it! The Slayer's havin' a snuggle with you. YOU, not the dick, not the poof, not the soddin' whelp, YOU. Get your head out from between your legs! >

Hmm. Strangely, talking to himself seemed to do the trick sometimes. As weird as it seemed.

"I don't want to move," he heard the Slayer whisper, and pulled her more protectively into his embrace.

"I don't want you to, either. I like you here," he murmured. Buffy pulled her head up and smiled brilliantly at him, and holy shit, he could've sworn his heart just thumped.

"I have to though," she said, attempting to squirm off of his lap. Spike let out a little petulant growl, pulling her back down. Buffy paused and stared at him, then grinned. "We need to leave, Spike. Giles wants to do a study on us. He'll be pretty renowned for being the only Watcher that has a complete account on the claiming rites between a Slayer and a vampire." Spike snorted, thoroughly unimpressed.

"And?" The normally not-there end to the word came out hard and annoyed. "I'm supposed to be dazzled by this? Rupert wants to write out a review of me for those Council wankers just because I've claimed his Slayer?" Buffy frowned at him.

"No. It's not going to be about us. He just wants to observe us and figure out the effects of a vampire's claim on a Slayer. It'll have nothing about either of us mentioned. What, you think Giles likes those bastards in England? He hates them almost as much as I do. I think he's figured out that there won't be any co-op from you if he mentions anything about your life." She tilted her head. "Why do you hate talking about Pre-Vamp Post-Vamp so much?" Spike shrugged.

"Most'a what I've done after Dru Sired me... It's already been written down somewhere in those bloody journals. An' the only person allowed to know 'bout me before I was Sired is me. It's private, an' it's the past. I wanna leave it behind. That good 'nough for you?"

Buffy sighed. "I guess. Anyway, get up. I need to make a sling for you till your arm heals. Then we'll leave." Spike smirked as she turned away, saluting her in the most unconventional way, accompanied with a leer as he stood up.

"Yes'm, Madam General." She turned and grinned at him.

"Shut up, Spike."

"That's all you got, eh?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, Xander, yes, that is all I got, considering she ran out of here like a hellion was after her."

Xander didn't look convinced. "Giles, Buffy wouldn't run from a hellion."

Giles sighed, rubbing his eyes. God, he was ready to strangle the boy. "Yes, that is true, Xander. However, I still don't know why she ran out. Now kindly back off?" Xander sheepishly moved out of the Watcher's way, sitting down at the table. As Anya walked by, Giles began fiddling with the Menkhari root water, setting them down next to the Abrigan baboon's feet. Anya paused momentarily to observe him, and her eyes widened when it registered what two things he was putting together. When he turned away, she ran for the products, looking around wildly and pushing the water away. However, she accidentally knocked one of the glass bottles over, spilling the root water inside of it. She winced as a loud pop permeated the air, and a baboon's foot shattered, pieces flying onto the meeting table. Giles spun around in alarm, looking questioningly at his employee.

"What on earth was that?" he queried, his brow creasing. Anya shrugged and pointed at him.

"You put the root water and the baboon's feet together like a complete idiot. Don't look at me," she said, then turned back toward the cash register, grabbing a few sales slips. Giles frowned as he watched her, then shook his head, walking back to the table. Willow and Tara, busy discussing one of their classes (and the topic of Buffy's newest foe when Giles was watching), looked up when said Watcher approached.

A rain cloud must have lost its way and settled on his brow. Willow cocked her head. "What is it, Giles?"

The Watcher shook his head, frowning. "What? Oh... oh, it's nothing. It's just..." He turned to look at the Wiccans. "Buffy's been gone an awful long while now. I suppose I'm just a bit worried about her, that's all. I shouldn't be, I know. She can take care of herself. But she seemed... so unsettled earlier, before she left."

Willow grinned. "Awww, Giles is being the Worried Daddy. How sweet!"

Giles managed a wry smile. "Yes, I am. I can't help it," he said, turning away and tinkered with the Tibetan lobeman reeds. "She does that to me." Willow looked on sympathetically, then jumped nearly fifty feet as the Slayer crashed right through the door, a dark-haired vampire attacking her. The blonde kicked at the fiend's stomach, shoving him up off of her and tossing him in the air.

Anya was freaking out. "Not in the store, not in the store! You're gonna wish I was still a vengeance demon from what I'd do to you if you break anything!"

Both Slayer and vampire ignored the frenzied ex-demon, continuing on with the fight. A few quick kicks to the midsection, then a kick between the legs, and Stinky was ready for dusting. However...

"Dammit, someone throw me a stake!" the Slayer hollered. Xander jumped to attention and flung a stake toward her. Almost like magic, the stake glided right to Buffy's hand, and her arm swung down, embedding the wood into the vampire's back. A puff of dust, and the mini-war was over.

Buffy didn't stay for long, though, running back outside and cutting off everyone's congratulatory praises. She rounded the corner of the Magic Box and ducked into the alley, mauling a blond head that was resting on the ground.

"Spike," she murmured, pulling his head into her lap and looking over him. "God, are you okay?" she asked, tenderly rubbing the gash in his left shoulder through his new shirt and duster. Spike grunted at the words and made an attempt to sit up by himself. His arm flailed and he grabbed ahold of Buffy, pulling her head down. She looked down, mildly amused.

"Was that accident or purpose?"

Spike grinned. "Depends, luv."

"On what?"

Spike lifted his head up to peer into her eyes. "Oh, nothing. Just this." He pressed his lips gently to hers, his silky, cool tongue slipping out and lapping at her lower lip. Buffy giggled and pulled away. She stood and gently tugged him up, slipping an arm around his waist. Thank God he was injured. If she walked into the shop like this with him any other day, the Magic Box would be reverted to a zoo from all the noises and the 'what-the-hell-are-you-doings' that would be thrown at her. Slowly, they made their way into the shop.

Surprisingly, Giles was the first to comment. "Good lord, what happened?"

Then Tara, Anya, Willow and Dawn rushed her. Willow and Tara grabbed Spike and took Buffy's place at either side, helping him to a table while Anya and Dawn followed quickly, both girls entirely too intrigued in his injuries. "Oh my god, what happened, Spike?" the younger Summers asked, wide-eyed.

"Was it demons?" Willow questioned, biting her lower lip. "Was it that demon lady that Buffy's been fighting?"

Spike's blue-eyed gaze rested on the Slayer's little family (well, except for Xander – duh.) He shook his head, nearly laughing. He really had to find whatever it was that these goofs were on and take a hit himself. It didn't seem to register with them that they were still dealing with a very intelligent, very famous, very powerful vampire at the moment.

"Riley attacked him," Buffy stated quietly, causing all eyes to turn to her. She folded her arms and sighed. "I ran out, went to his crypt, and there was Riley, kicking the shit out of him. Dislocated his shoulder, and tried to stake him."

"And you stopped him?" Xander scoffed quietly (but not quietly enough for Spike's hearing not to catch what was said). The blond vampire turned his head and glared menacingly at the brunette.

"I heard that. Watch your mouth, mate," he growled softly, flecks of yellow rippling through his corneas. Strangely, instead of provoking the vampire anymore, Xander shut up, sitting still and silently watching his friends.

Buffy tore her gaze away from Xander and her lov – um, Spike. "Anyway, that's all you need to know, really. Um, Giles, Spike's agreed to the observing thingy. Is there anything particular that we need to do? Interaction with each other, fighting, body language, what?"

Giles looked at his charge rather sheepishly. "Er, yes, there is. I attempted to tell you, but you ran out before I could finish. Ah, so I receive all information and findings correctly, it would probably be best if you were to... ah... oh, dear."

Giles couldn't finish his thoughts, but Spike seemed to be reading them. "I'm not gonna let her bite me so you can do your little study, mate. A claim is sacred, intimate. Y'think I'm gonna make her do it with all you gits standing out here an' gawkin' at her like some sorta freak? Sod off, Watcher."

Buffy looked toward Giles, disturbed. "You want me to bite him?!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed.

Giles sighed. "Well, as I said, it would only be for the best recordings... however, I obviously didn't think this through. This would attach you to him forever – there would be no way to cancel the claim and separate you from him. We can't have that at all." A snort from Spike, ultimately ignored by the Watcher. "I suppose we'll just have to make do with Spike's side of the claim for now. If anything would show up."

Spike sighed, leaning back in his chair. The elder was a brilliant man – really, he was – but sometimes he was just so bloody dense... "Eh, mate? Not to be tootin' my own horn here, in fact, 'm just tossin' my two cents in... but just how the bloody hell do you think Buffy knew about me an' her ex grapplin'? Psychic powers and that whole bloody lot?"

Giles paused, frowned, and took off his glasses. Then he glanced at Spike. His gaze slowly rolled towards Buffy. Then once again back to Spike. Realization dawned on him and he sighed.

"Bloody hell."
 
 

TBC....

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